Arag
Things are not always what they are, or so some might
say. Arag the Touched believes this in
much the same way he believes he is not who he thinks he is. Needless to say, Arag is and has always been
touched. Still, there might be something
to his belief, a belief he believes is not what he believes it to be. He often feels muddled and tends to be
uneasy, unsure of his surroundings, his motivations, his thoughts, and even his
existence.
I would tell you Arag is our protagonist if it was true. But, then if I told you that there would
always be the possibility that I am wrong, an all too likely possibility, given
that I have written very few words of this story up until this point. That said, I will say Arag is a great
candidate for protagonist of this story, despite the fact that he might be
anything but the protagonist. Got it?
Arag is a Neanderthal.
I mean that literally. He lives in
a long lost age. He is the last of his
kind and is about to be attacked by a human.
That human, Bok, thinks Arag is an abomination. Bok believes all such abominations should be
killed and has killed many of them, including women and children. Bok has a club. Arag has a leaf that he might soon use.
Right about now, Arag is relieving himself behind a large
boulder, and Bok is standing on that boulder looking down at Arag.
Arag had been constipated for days. He knew this, but didn’t believe he knew it. Despite that, he squatted down to relieve
himself.
Above him, on the boulder, Bok stared down at Arag, ready to
jump down and club the abomination to death.
The sun was rising in the east, casting Bok’s shadow down the
west side of the boulder, a shadow that Arag could see since he happened to be
on the west side of the boulder. Unlike
Bok, Arag had some small clue about shadows and what they meant, or not. Arag looked up just in time to see Bok jump
down, club in hand.
Arag dodged to the side, swatting at the smaller human and
knocking him down. Bok dropped the club
as he fell and Arag picked it up. Bok
got up and took a few steps back, wondering if the abomination would send him
into the darkness of night, the netherworld for humans who died at the hands of
abominations.
Arag did not want to kill this human. It was not his way.
Bok, ignorant of the fact that Arag didn’t really want to
hurt him, launched at Arag and tried to knock him over, but Arag stepped to the
side and threw Bok to the ground yet again.
Bok rose and glared at Arag, displaying his most loathsome
glare. He shouted something Arag didn’t
understand.
“Go away,” said Arag in modern English, a language he should
not have known since it didn’t exist yet.
Of course, Bok didn’t understand English and launched himself at
Arag. Again, Arag threw the human to the
ground.
“Quit bugging me,” said Arag.
Bok let out a shout, calling for help, but none of his tribe
members were within earshot. He got up
and lunged at Arag, who swung the club, hitting Bok on the head, thus knocking
him out.
“Stupid human,” said Arag.
“Or maybe he is not a human. Who
knows? I doubt he is not a wooly mammoth.”
In that instant Bok’s body turned into the body of a very
large, odiferous, and unconscious wooly mammoth.
“Of course, I doubt this wooly mammoth is not a rock,” said
Arag. The wooly mammoth turned into a
rock. “Whatever, none of this is real.”
Arag’s particular point of view has a rather interesting
effect on reality. It allows him to
change things by doubting they aren’t what they might be. So, for instance, if Arag sees the sun and
doubts it is the sun, and, in fact, doubts it isn’t nothing at all, the sun
will cease to exist. This is an example
of a doubt negation modified by a negative doubt instantiation. Fortunately, the sun is very bright and Arag
avoids looking at it and thinking about it.
Could you imagine what would happen if Arag turned the sun into nothing
at all? Unfortunately (not so
unfortunately at times), Arag has many doubts about things and ideas and has a
tendency to drastically alter reality, and not just for him.
Arag returned to his home, a sprawling modern affair
overlooking a lake, another product of doubt, and a rather nice one in Arag’s
mind. He sat on his sofa and turned on the
TV, a device he truly enjoyed and avoided doubting. He also avoided doubting his beautiful home,
having doubted it once before, turning it into a dark, dank, cold cave with
poor ventilation and ravenous rats.
Arag put his bare feet up on the coffee table, and then
doubted he was dressed as a Neanderthal, opting for a pair of khaki shorts and
a Hawaiian shirt.
Through his twenty-foot by twelve-foot window he saw a group
of humans approaching his house. This
caused him no concern since his property was surrounded by an invisible force
field that if touched would disintegrate the one who touched it. He watched as one of the humans walked into
the force field and turned to dust. Two
more humans died before they got wise.
Feeling generous, Arag doubted that the humans had died and
doubted that they had come near his house, thus returning the dead ones to life
and sending the whole group far away where they scratched their heads and
grunted to one another, their primary form of communication.
The humans rarely approached Arag’s home, ever fearful. Humans feared everything. Perhaps that was why they had killed off all
of the Neanderthals. Arag assumed the
humans were there to stay and that one day they would dominate this planet, a
planet he was tempted to doubt did not exist, but did not. Further, he was not, oddly enough, tempted to
doubt that humans would one day be the dominant life form on this planet,
perhaps because he didn’t see the point in doubting the inevitable, however
illogical the inevitable might be.
Of course, he could have doubted the humans out of
existence. He could have doubted that
the Neanderthals had been hunted down and killed by the humans. He could have done just that, but he didn’t. Again, we have to return to Arag’s acceptance
of the inevitable, the ever illogical inevitable.
Arag sighed, abandoning these thoughts and then doubted that
he wasn’t holding a hotdog in a bun that didn’t have ketchup. He happily ate the hot dog then let out a
large burp. Hot dogs always gave him gas.
He was tempted to doubt the existence of gas, but thought it might serve
some purpose. Anyway, it was
entertaining in some crude way.
“I’m bored,” said Arag, getting up from the sofa. “Maybe I’ll go somewhere. Maybe there is a tropical paradise in the
universe, the best tropical paradise in the universe and maybe there is a bar
there that serves green tea.” Of course,
Arag, at that moment in time didn’t know about Uthio Minor, the ultimate
paradise. He doubted it existed and that
he was not there sitting at the bar and in a billionth of a second he was
sitting at the bar on Uthio Minor.
The bartender, an insect like creature named Brok, said
something Arag didn’t understand, so Arag doubted that he couldn’t understand
anything anyone said.
“What can I get you?” said Brok.
“Green tea, please,” said Arag.
Moments later, Brok placed a large glass of green tea in
front of Arag. Arag examined his
surroundings, noticing the beautiful beach and the hundred foot tall palm
trees. Down the beach he saw a house and
wondered whose house it was and wondered if it wasn’t his, but he dismissed
that thought when a human emerged from the house, came up the beach to the bar
and sat across from him.
“Hey, Kev,” said Brok.
“Hi,” said Kev. “Do I
know you?”
Brok laughed and said, “Lost your memories again have you?”
“I guess,” said Kev.
Arag seriously doubted this Kev fellow had lost all of his
memories.
“Wait a second,” said Kev.
“What?” said Brok.
“I remember now. I
remember everything. Holy crap. Have you seen Clive?”
“Yeah, he was here about an hour ago,” said Brok.
“Did he say where he was going?”
“I think he said Gamma Alpha Gamma,” said Brok.
Kev disappeared and Arag doubted that he had disappeared,
thus bringing Kev right back to where he was before he disappeared. “What the?” said Kev. Kev disappeared. Arag brought him right back, wondering if
maybe he was wrong that Kev did not disappear.
However, he did not doubt that Kev did not disappear.
Kev sat down and ordered a green tea. Arag remembered his green tea and took a
sip. He heard children laughing and then
a voice.
“Welcome to The God is
Sitting Right in Front of You Experience, brought to you by Kev, of
course,” said a woman’s voice.
“What’s this?” said Arag out loud.
“Don’t worry pal,” said the bartender. “Enjoy the ride.”
Arag ignored the bartender, focused now on a show of sorts
that detailed the birth of all creation, an act of God. When the show finished, Arag witnessed a
group of humans killing a tribe of Neanderthals. The show ended and Arag said, “You’re God,
huh?” to Kev.
“Um, yes. Why?” said
Kev.
“You don’t look like God,” said Arag.
“What should God look like?” said Kev.
“Not like you,” said Arag, holding off on doubting this was
God.
“Well, to be honest, I can’t prove it,” said Kev. “I mean, Clive told me I was God
yesterday. I don’t know if I believe
him.”
“Who is Clive?” said Arag, starting to feel some doubt, but
suppressing it.
“Clive is Satan,” said Kev.
“Who is Satan?”
“I created him. He is
a really great guy. You should meet him.”
Arag thought it over and decided he was not going to doubt
that Kev was God, and further that he would not doubt the existence of Clive or
Satan or whomever. “What’s it like being
God?” he said.
“I don’t know. It’s
okay, I guess, but I would sure like to understand what is going on,” said Kev.
“You have all your memories back, so why don’t you know
what’s going on?” said Arag, wondering if he didn’t have the right doubt when
he doubted Kev didn’t have his memories.
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you? I mean, right now, I have all of the memories
of all of the living things that have ever existed in all of the universes that
have ever existed and I still don’t really know what is going on. Further, I don’t know that I’m God, so
somebody might be playing a trick on me.”
Arag doubted that Kev did not know he was God and said, “Do
you know now?”
Kev smiled, an ancient smile.
He walked around the bar and gave Arag a hug. “That’s some trick, Arag. You should be careful what you doubt
though. You could cause a lot of
trouble. Kev disappeared. Arag did not doubt that Kev had disappeared
and did not doubt Kev was God. That was
perhaps the first time in his life that he had not been tempted to doubt
something.
Kev popped back into existence beside Arag and said, “You
know what? Clive, the girl, Bri, the
Proth Sphere, and Jesus and I are playing this game. Maybe you’d like to play with us.”
“What game?” said Arag.
“Well, I don’t want to give anything away, but if you agree
to play you might just find out,” said Kev.
“What if I doubt that I don’t know what the game is?” said
Arag, feeling not in the least bit tempted to do that.
“I know you won’t do that, Arag. Come on.
It will be fun.”
“Sure, I’ll play,” said Arag.
Kev disappeared. Arag doubted he didn’t
know where Kev went then doubted he wasn’t where Kev was, the house just down
the beach on Uthio Minor.
Arag looked at the people in the room, a beautiful young
woman, a large, brown man with a silly grin on his face, a young boy with
blonde hair, a man with long brown hair, a beard and a mustache, and Kev. Off to the side he saw a floating yellow
sphere.
“We’re all here,” said Kev.
“Everyone, this is Arag. Arag,
meet the girl, Clive, Bri and Jesus. The
yellow sphere is the Proth Sphere.”
Clive came over to Arag and shook his hand. “You are in for the ride of your life, man.”
“I’ll warn you, Arag.
This is a dangerous game.
Anything can happen and we can all get hurt, but none of us, including
you can die. So, if you don’t want to
play we understand.”
“I’ll play,” said Arag, wondering if he should doubt he would
get hurt.
Kev is going to lay out the rules and goals of the game, and
I’m not going to tell you the rules or the goals of the game. Kev is then going to send each person or
thing(the Proth Sphere) to a different place and time in the universe and wipe
out their memories and wipe out his own memories as well. At that point, the game will begin.
Welcome to The Show
Kev looked in the mirror, a mirror he had never seen
before. He looked at the likewise
unfamiliar face in the mirror and wondered why he didn’t remember himself. He left the bathroom and walked out into the
family room of a house that might or might not be his. Sitting on the couch in this family room, he
saw a large, brown skinned man. The
brown skinned man had a bowl of cereal in his large brown hand. He turned to look at Kev.
“Who are you?” said the man.
“I don’t know. Who are
you?” said Kev.
“No clue. You want a
bowl of cereal?”
“Nah. Whose house is
this?”
“Not sure. All I know
is that I’m sitting here eating a bowl of cereal that I didn’t get from the
kitchen, if there is a kitchen.”
“Well, you know, maybe there are clues in this house that
will tell us who we are. Actually, check
your pockets,” said Kev.
Kev checked his pockets and found a wallet. Inside the wallet he found a driver’s
license. His name was Kev Pryce. What kind of name was Kev? Kev thought it was a stupid name, a silly
abbreviation. He would have much
preferred the name Jeremy.
“I think my name is Clive,” said Clive, holding up his
driver’s license.
“Give me a second,” said Kev.
Kev searched the house, finding two bedrooms, a workshop with some large
black cube and a computer, and another room, a study of some sort. Kev went to the computer and looked at the
screen. One of the open windows had a
list of messages.
“Feeling lonely? Want
a little intercopulation? Respond to
this message and I will be right over — Ruby,” read the first.
“Want to travel through time?
Plans attached,” read another. It
had an attachment that Kev opened. The
device in the designs had two parts, a black cube with a circular hole and a
cylindrical insert that went into the hole.
The insert had a button on it.
Kev wondered where you could get the parts, so he responded to the
message asking for the parts. He
received a response a few seconds later.
“Don’t know. If you find them,
tell me.”
“Kev, what’s going on?” read yet another. “I’m on Gamma War hanging out with Bok
Choy. You should come here — Flot.” Kev responded, “Where is Gamma War?” Flot wrote back, “Lost your memories again,
huh? Go to Surth Beta and find the brain
in a vat. It has your memories.”
The next message read, “I’ve figured it out and I’m going to
win the game, dummy — the girl.” Kev wrote “What game?” Her response read, “There is no way I’m going
to tell you, loser.”
The last message read, “I doubt you’re not reading this, so
don’t answer the door.”
The doorbell rang. Kev
went out into the family room and seeing Clive approaching the door, said,
“Wait. Maybe we shouldn’t answer the
door.”
“Why?” said Clive.
“I don’t know. Might
not be a good idea.”
“I’m going to take my chances,” said Clive.
Clive answered the door, now confronted with a pale blue,
lipless alien carrying a briefcase.
“Oh, you’re both here,” said the alien, walking into the
house. The alien sat on the couch and
opened the briefcase, pulling out two blue cubes, placing them on the table in
front of the couch. “Any questions?”
“What are those?” said Kev.
“Things,” said the alien.
“What are they for?” said Clive.
“They do things,” said the alien.
“What things?” said Clive.
“Look, I don’t have all day.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date that I’m late for.” The alien left the house.
“You know, Clive, I think that was an alien,” said Kev.
“I was just thinking the same thing. Do you think this is a dream?”
“Maybe.”
“What do you think they are?”
Clive and Kev each picked up a blue cube.
“Someone is talking to me,” said Kev.
“Me too,” said Clive.
“Says his name is B24ME,” said Kev.
“Same here,” said Clive.
“He says I have to go to some place called Forg Off and
defeat a Forgian Bludgeoner. What do you
think that is?” said Kev.
“He just told me the same thing,” said Clive.
“You know, I don’t think this is a good thing,” said Kev.
The blue cubes teleported Clive and Kev to an arena of sorts
on Forg Off. In front of them stood a ten-foot
tall bipedal nightmare holding a stone club.
“Not good,” said Clive.
“Not good at all,” said Kev.
Given an Advantage
Riding on a wave of jubilation, the girl teleported to her
home on Uthio Minor. She knew. She remembered who she was and what she
wanted to do more than anything. The only
problem was she didn’t know how to do it.
Still, she was pretty certain she had a head start. All she had to do was find Arag. But, where was he? Actually, when was he? He could be anywhere in space-time.
She knew Kev had no clue what was going on, and suspected Kev
was with Clive. Hopefully, Clive was
equally clueless. Bri was probably out
in his blue-sky dimension with the Sphere.
Kev had a tendency to put them there.
She wondered what team they were on.
Jesus could be anywhere, but she was willing to bet he would end up in
ancient Israel. He seemed to like it
there.
Where to? She had no
clue where Kev might have put Arag.
Knowing that Arag was a Neanderthal, she wondered if Kev would have
placed him back in his era. Where had
the Neanderthals lived? Europe, she
thought. But, when? There was no way to know.
She needed the black cube, the cube that would give her
infinite knowledge. Did that exist in
this universe? Did Kev have it? Perhaps it was in his house in Vermont. However, he might be in his house in Vermont
right now. If he saw her would he
remember her? Would he remember everything? If so, she might lose the advantage. But Kev’s memory in all of the infinite games
preceding this game had been so terminally impaired that even when he did
remember, he couldn’t really keep those memories or process them
effectively. That decided it.
The girl teleported to Kev’s house in Vermont, the year 2016. He was not there. Nor was Clive. Perhaps they had been tricked into getting on
The Show, an unpleasant thought.
In Kev’s workroom, she found the communications device. On the computer attached to the device she
found the plans for the black cube. The
plans were less than helpful. Where
would she find the parts? She remembered
that Kev had used his blue cube from The Show to go to the workroom to retrieve
the parts. In fact, this was the only
way at the outset of the game to get the black cube. But, if you touched the blue cube, you would
be on The Show. Did The Show exist in
this universe? Almost definitely. Kev had a masochistic streak of universal
proportions. Of course The Show would
exist in this universe, and of course, B24ME would be the host.
She had
never been on The Show, but knew quite a bit about it and about B24ME. She knew if she became a contestant, she
would likely suffer greatly. However,
she would have the blue cube and would likely be given an opportunity to
retrieve the black cube. She had to get
on The Show.
She looked at Kev’s computer and had a thought. Kev’s communication device broadcasted
messages immediately to every point in the universe. She could just send a message out and B24ME,
wherever he was, would likely get it.
She wrote, “Interested in being on The Show. On Earth right now in 2014 at 37 Old Brook
Lane, Hoover, Vermont, USA. I’ll be
waiting.” She hit send.
A response came in.
“We will be right there. Don’t go
anywhere.”
The girl went out into the family room and sat on the
couch. She knew that being on The Show
would be exceptionally challenging and quite painful, but desperately wanted to
win the game. It would be her first win,
something she had wanted for some time.
The doorbell rang and she got up and opened the door, seeing
a pale blue, lipless alien with a cigarette dangling from its mouth. The alien held out a little blue cube. The girl took the cube, and the alien left
without a word.
Moments later, she heard B24ME’s voice. He welcomed her to the show, told her the
rules and then sent her to Par Four where she had to evade a Hulk death ball,
driven by a Hulk Pro. B24ME failed to
mention how long she would have to evade the death ball and then failed to
answer her when she asked. She would
figure it out. She might have to die a
few times, but that was a small price to pay for victory.
Making Friends
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” said the Proth Sphere.
“What about?” said Bri.
“Who I am,” said the sphere.
“Who are you?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“Yeah, I don’t know who I am either.”
“What’s your worst nightmare ever?” said the sphere.
“I don’t know. Maybe
the end of all creation,” said Bri.
“Wouldn’t it be interesting if that nightmare came true?”
“I don’t want it to come true.”
“You know, right about now, I have a strong desire to connect
with your mind. Isn’t that odd?”
“How would you do that?”
“I’m not sure. Do you
want to give it a go?”
“Sure, why not?” said Bri.
The Proth Sphere and Bri connected, and when they did, all creation
came to a sudden and terrible end. A
billionth of a billionth of a second later, Kev recreated all creation(it’s just a simulation, you know) so the
game could proceed.
“Strange,” said the sphere.
“You know, you have some bad nightmares.”
“Yeah, I know. But, I
also have great dreams, don’t you think?”
“You know, I think we just ended all creation together. And you know, I think someone re-created
it. Unfortunately, I still don’t know
who I am.”
“Yeah, me either,” said Bri.
“I think I’m going to go find someone to connect with,” said
the sphere.
“Yeah, I think I’m going to find some company too. Not that I don’t like your company. I just want to meet some new people.”
“We’re on the same page,” said the sphere right before it
teleported to Europe, 37,000 BC, a nice, random place to meet new and
interesting people.
A Little, Red Cube
Jesus looked around, seeing nothing but enormous, windowless
and doorless, drab green buildings, some with signs that read, “Work Now,” “Get
to Work,” and “Don’t get Recycled.”
Around him he saw purposefully striding aliens going here and there,
always moving, never pausing, and in fact passing through one another whenever
their paths intersected. On the ground he
noticed a small, unmarked, red cube. He
picked it up, wondering what it was. He
also wondered who he was and why he had a strong urge to go to an ancient world
and bring peace and love to all who needed that sort of thing. Jesus made a wish, and that wish came true.
All the Comforts of Home
A group of humans had Arag surrounded, humans with clubs and
spears. Arag knew something awful would
probably happen and probably happen in the very near future. One of the humans, the leader of this pack of
murdering fiends threw a spear at Arag, impaling him and sending him to his
death. Arag’s vision went dark. He saw a flash of light and then found
himself standing on the plains surrounded by humans, no longer impaled by the spear,
which now lay on the ground at his feet.
The humans all gasped and muttered, taking a few steps back.
Arag shouted out something in Neanderthal, a language the
humans did not understand. However, the
humans had some sensitivity to intonation and knew full well that Arag’s utterance
contained a rather hostile message. The
humans dispersed, traveling at great speed, away from Arag.
In that moment, Arag had one thought, “Who am I?” He did not know.
Of course, Arag knows nothing of his quite special talent. Otherwise he would probably doubt that he
does not know who he is. He is also
wondering what his purpose is, a natural enough thing to wonder, and would also
like to know why that spear didn’t kill him.
Of course, it did kill him, but he came back to life. If I were Arag, I would desperately doubt
that I didn’t know absolutely everything and that I wasn’t God.
Just as Arag prepared to wonder something else, a yellow
sphere of energy appeared in front of him.
“Hey, friend,” said the sphere in Neanderthal.
In that instant, Arag doubted the sphere existed, and the
sphere ceased to exist.
Well, I guess the Proth Sphere is out of the game.
Bored and tired, Arag set off to find some place to rest,
hoping there might be a cave somewhere nearby, or bushes he could hide in to
avoid predators, predators he wished had never existed.
Eventually, he found a cluster of tall bushes with a cozy
bare patch of dirt in the middle. He lay
down and tried to sleep, doubting he would get any rest at all. Sure enough, sleep wouldn’t come and he left
the bushes with a muttered curse, now contemplating finding food.
He wondered if he had a home, and what it must be like, but
then doubted that he didn’t have a home, something large and warm, made of
stone with openings in the walls that let light in but didn’t allow wind to
come in, a home that had ample seating, and a nice soft bed, with plenty of
food and a more proper place to relieve himself. He doubted that didn’t exist at all and also
doubted he wasn’t in it right at that moment.
Arag appeared in his brand new, spacious, granite home. It’s actually a model. He explored the home, finding all of the
things he had doubted did not exist. Was
it real? One of the rooms in this home
had a metal box with a door of some sort.
Arag opened the door and inside the box found fruits and vegetables and
other boxes and strange transparent bottles that might have contained liquids
of some sort. There were markings on
these containers, markings he didn’t understand.
He grabbed a round, red object that looked like it might be
food and bit into it. It was sweet and
tart at the same time. This was,
perhaps, the best thing he had ever eaten.
Arag closed the door and walked out into the main room of the house,
sitting on a soft seat. Ahead of him he
saw an opening in the wall that looked out onto a lake. A black rectangle on a wooden block stood in
front of the window, partially obscuring his view.
On the seat next to him he found a small rectangular object
that had little bumps on it. Each of the
bumps had markings. He picked up the
object and started pressing the bumps, starting with the bright red bump. In front of him, the black rectangle came to
life, and on its surface he saw images he did not understand. The images moved, and he heard sounds,
voices, coming from the rectangle. He
saw humans, wearing strange clothes.
Arag stared at the moving pictures, unable to comprehend
anything. He watched for a while then
pressed another button on the small rectangle.
The pictures changed and he saw something he understood even less than
the pictures of humans. He saw stars,
and then a gray spearhead-like object coming into the picture. Green lines shot out of the spearhead-like
object and raced off the screen. He
heard a strange noise when they appeared, a noise he had never heard
before. He pressed another button and
the sound went away, so he pressed it again and the sound came back. Another button made the rectangle turn blue
with black symbols covering its surface.
Not as entertaining as the moving pictures, so he pressed another button,
which took him back to the spearhead and strange sounds.
Arag took another bite of the
delicious red, irregular sphere in his hand, his focus entirely on the moving
images on the strange rectangle in front of him. Several hours passed and the sky grew
dark. Arag, now bored and tired, found a
room with a bed, a soft bed with white blankets and cushiony things that you
could rest your head on. He lay down and
this time did not doubt he would sleep.
Setting Up the Pieces
Meta, Beta, Whatever
Sitting in a small
office behind an apocalyptically battered desk, Meta Lingua, philosopher,
professor, and unfunny bastard stares into space. Sitting across from Meta is his one friend,
Beta Franca, who happens to be Meta’s only student. Meta and Beta are in the middle of a two-month
long debate over whether or not yes means no, and Beta appears to have the
advantage, much to Meta’s dismay. Here
is a brief peek at the conversation.
“Are you wearing pants?” said Meta, thinking he finally had
Beta cornered.
“Yes,” said Beta. Beta
was not wearing pants, having taken them off to prove a point, but had quite a
vivid imagination and imagined he had pants on with so much force that he did,
in fact, believe he had pants on.
“But, you don’t have pants on,” cried Meta.
“Therefore, yes means no,” said Beta. “I’ve got you.”
“Fine, I’ll give you that one, but you’re not going to
convince me of anything else.”
“Your eyes are orange,” said Beta.
“They most definitely are not,” said Meta. “My eyes are blue.”
“They look orange to me.”
“Then you are color blind.”
“But, what’s blue to you is orange to me. Therefore your eyes are, in fact, orange,”
cried Beta.
“Dammit. Look. I’ve had enough. Let’s get something to eat,” said Meta.
“Does food even exist?”
“Stop that.”
“Is it ethical to eat food?”
“I said stop.”
“Do I really know about food?”
“Beta, if you are trying to piss me off, you are doing an
amazing job.”
“Fine. Let’s get some
goog.”
Meta and Beta got up and exited the office, entering into the
ninth cellar’s hallway, the ninth cellar being the bottom most cellar in Philo
Hall, one of countless buildings on the campus of If University, a school
dedicated to the pursuit of philosophical studies, a school with over
thirty-seven million students, all of whom looked forward to graduating so they
could become utterly useless members of society.
They took the stairway to the main level, exited the building
and stopped.
“Where to?” said Beta.
“I’m not going to get into a debate with you right now,
Beta,” said Meta.
“I am not debating you.
I just want to know where we are going.”
“Well, how will we know where we are going until we get there,
you dolt?” said Meta, smacking Beta upside the head.
“Good point. What
direction should we go in?” said Beta.
“You really like pushing my buttons, don’t you?”
Beta took a step forward in one direction and Meta took a
step forward in another. They each took
three more steps then stopped to look at each other. Both sensing a stalemate they continued going
in separate directions, Beta heading toward the lower central mid side
cafeteria and Meta heading toward the upper mid central side cafeteria.
Both reached their destinations that might or might not have
existed and ate food that might have been real if everything wasn’t a
dream. Following that, they returned to
Meta’s office for another lively debate.
You know, eventually
these two are going to do something interesting, perhaps something important,
or maybe not.
The Ultimate Chronograph
Piter looked at the Swiss and the Swiss looked right back at
him. Piter glared and they glared in
return.
“This is most definitely not the watch I ordered,” said Piter
looking at the platinum watch with a two-inch dial and an olive, nylon band.
“You were very specific Piter. You said, and we quote, ‘I want the ultimate
time piece,’” said the Swiss.
“This watch says it’s April first, two thousand, thirty-seven
at eleven o’clock on the dot. I happen
to know it is not April first, two thousand thirty-seven at eleven o’clock on
the dot,” said Piter.
“It most definitely is.
The watch is never wrong.”
“Look. Today is June
ninth, two thousand fourteen, eight PM.
See my watch?” said Piter, showing the Swiss his other rather expensive timepiece.
“That watch is an aberration.
You should destroy it.”
“It’s a fifty thousand dollar watch. I should probably destroy your watch,” said
Piter.
“Our watch can’t be destroyed.”
“It can’t be trusted either.”
“Piter, it is an undeniable fact that our watch, your watch,
is the absolute most accurate time piece in the universe, and is also the
ultimate watch in existence. It is
precisely what you ordered. Anyway,
there are no refunds, so take it and be off.”
Piter put the watch in his pocket and left the building
without another word. He had spent a
million dollars on that watch. What had
he gotten? It had no controls that he
could identify, came with no directions and the Swiss gave him no directions
verbally other than to say, “Sometimes you want to stop, sometimes twist, and
then other times push. Your choice.” He had been scammed, and considered suing the
bastards, but knew the contract he had signed with them gave him little chance
of recovering his money.
Piter took out the watch again, looked at it and said, “What
the hell?” The watch read April first,
three thousand thirty-seven, noon. He
noticed movement in the sky and looked up, seeing what looked like flying cars. He scanned the area and noticed that the city
had changed considerably, the buildings taller and more modern, holographic
street signs, people moving to and fro on what appeared to be hovering boards. Where was he?
When was he?
Piter turned around and went back into the building from
whence he came, ready to give the Swiss an earful. However, he could not give them said earful
because this building was no longer the site of a watch factory. In fact, it appeared to be a lingerie shop. Piter walked right back out of the building, now
coming to the conclusion that he was not going to find his car and that he
probably no longer had a home, and further had no job or friends or pretty much
anything, a shocking realization to have.
He looked at his new watch again. It read, April first, three thousand
thirty-seven, twelve o three. Piter
needed to find a bar, much more than he needed to figure out what was going on,
so he scanned the street for the tell tale signs of a bar, spotting something
that perhaps could be a bar, something called Singularity. He crossed the street, entered the building,
glad to see it was a bar, sat on a hovering, cushioned disk at the bar and made
eye contact with the bartender, a six foot tall, black, insect like creature
with six arms that oddly enough had human like hands.
“What will it be?” said the bartender.
“Give me the strongest drink you have,” said Piter, at this
point not the least bit concerned about the possibly dangerous alien behind the
bar, and, further, not concerned about the possibility that he quite possibly
had gone insane.
“Coming right up,” said the bartender.
Piter checked the watch again, and only a minute or two had
passed. The bartender placed a glass
with a greenish liquid in it in front of Piter.
“What’s that?” said Piter.
“Green tea, our strongest drink.”
“That won’t get me drunk,” said Piter.
“Trust me, this will alter your life.”
Not wanting to argue, Piter drank the entire glass of green
tea, gasping as he put the glass on the bar.
He then heard children laughing and looked around the bar, wondering
what children would be doing in this sort of place. Seeing no children, and not the least bit
interested in wondering if he might be hallucinating, and, further, unwilling
to entertain the notion that he had gone batty, Piter turned back to the bar
and sighed. He then heard a woman’s
voice say, “Welcome to The Welcome to the Game Experience brought to you
by Kev.”
“What?” said Piter, looking around the bar again for the
source of the voice.
“Just listen,” said the voice, a voice he now realized was
inside of him, perfectly reasonable, all things considered.
“Hi, Piter, happy to have you here enjoying a green tea
experience with me,” said a man’s voice.
“I’m Kev, and my friends and I are playing a game, and we’d like you to
join us. In order to win the game, you
must find God and convince God that God is God.
I’ll give you a clue. God has
taken a human form. Now all you have to
do is find God, convince God that God is God and you win. Of course, if God discovers that God is God
without your help then you can’t win, unless God forgets God is God and then
you convince God that God is God. Make
sense? Of course, the winner gets a
prize. So, do you want to play?”
Piter felt like repeatedly beating himself on the head with a
baseball bat, but since he had no bat to beat himself with he said, “Sure, I’ll
play.”
“Awesome. Okay, one
thing. While you play you will be
immortal. However, you will be able to
feel pain. Further, you will be able to
teleport yourself anywhere and any time in the universe you choose with a
thought. And just so you don’t end up
suffering for all eternity, remember not to take any little blue cubes from
anyone. That is really important. Very bad things will happen if you do.”
“Okay,” said Piter.
“Great. By the way,
Piter, I am God, the one true God, but after I finish this sentence I will forget
that I am God, the one true God.”
“This concludes your green tea experience,” said the
woman. “Good luck.”
Piter wondered if any of that had been real and guessed it
probably had been real, seeing as he had jumped into the future over a thousand
years, and that he lacked the creativity to dream such a thing up. So, how was he going to find God? Did he want to find God? Who was God, anyway? Why would God want to play such a game? Who were the other players? Were there other players? Blue cubes? Very bad things? Peter sighed and motioned to the bartender.
“I think I’ll have a bottle of vodka, chilled please.”
So, God has invited Piter and Arag into the game. But is Piter’s game the same as Arag’s or as
anyone else’s who is playing the game?
I’m not going to tell you. I
wonder if God will invite anyone else. I
kind of want him to invite Meta and Beta, but I think they would be too busy
arguing with each other to really play the game. Not to worry. I’m sure there will be other candidates.
Gak
Tak is a scientist of sorts, creator of Gak, a disease that wants
nothing more than to spread the joy of dance to the universe, even if said
dance will lead to their deaths. Of
course, Gak’s version of dance is far from graceful, or rhythmic or anything
else you might think dance ought to be. Gak dancing, a frenzied, violent form of dance,
more like a violent seizure, is harmful to both the dancer and those around the
dancer. Further, making eye contact with
an infected being transmits Gak to the poor soul who happens to make eye
contact with a Gak dancer. Needless to
say, Gak spreads quickly, and Gak is quite pleased with this because it means
Gak will possibly (likely) spread the joy of dance throughout the entire
universe. Seriously.
Tak, unhappy with his little experiment, has been working on
a cure for Gak, but so far has only been able to transform the dance into an
odd humping exercise, a dance that still leads to death. Of course, he only tried that on one Gak
dancer, and quickly killed the dancer when he realized he had not found a cure
for Gak, so the other million or so Gak dancers inhabiting the city in which
Tak lives and works are now doing what we will call the classic Gak dance,
again, a violent seizure like dance that ultimately leads to death. Locked away in his lab, Tak only emerges to
restock his food supplies, a very dangerous exercise in which he has to blind
himself and navigate through the crowds of dancers that are kicking, screaming,
twirling, flipping, flailing, grunting, and in general causing all sorts of
problems for those who are not yet infected but soon will be infected because
they don’t realize that making eye contact with a Gak dancer will essentially
bring them into what we will call the Gak fold.
Meanwhile, Gak, a conscious disease that really enjoys the
thrills of dancing, is on the prowl for new hosts. Gak can, by taking of the minds of its hosts,
communicate with its hosts, but is unable to compel said hosts to communicate
in any other way than screams, grunts and howls, and of course through the
magic of dance. Unfortunately, the only
beings that can understand Gak dance are the dancers, dancers you wouldn’t want
to make eye contact with. You could try
to talk to them with your eyes closed, but they are too busy dancing and so
forth to talk to you.
Word of Gak hasn’t really spread throughout the universe
yet. It has only existed for about two
days. If Tak has any sense at all, he’ll
send out a warning to the universe with his nifty communication device that can
send messages to the entire universe. I
doubt he will do that, however. Tak
doesn’t really want the entire universe to pin this whole Gak thing on him.
Right about now, one of the Gak dancers is teleporting to
Uthio Minor, Kev’s home. The dancer’s name
is Bleek and he has a lot on his mind.
Bleek knew everything, everything except how to stop dancing,
a regrettable reality since he was basically dancing himself to death, and in
the process causing other beings to start dancing themselves to death. While this did suit Bleek in some strange
way, he knew he needed to go to some remote place to rid himself of Gak,
someplace that didn’t have Gak dancers that could re-infect him.
After spinning around three times, kicking his right leg out
and throwing his head back, thus stating his intentions to the other dancers,
he teleported to a far corner of the crescent shaped island on Uthio Minor, the
only island on that ocean world. He
appeared on the beach, swung around, punched forward, did a backflip and shook
his butt violently, thus stating he intended to purge himself of Gak right there,
hopefully without spreading the disease further. Fortunately enough, all of the spinning and
twirling allowed Bleek to see that on this particular stretch of beach there were
no potential Gak victims. Bleek
expressed his profound joy at discovering this by doing the worm and smashing
his head against the ground, breaking his nose and filling his mouth with sand. Gak, who in no way wanted to be purged from
this host, but unable to fully control the actions of this host, prayed that
someone would come along, someone who might actually enjoy the trill of dance.
That’s enough of Bleek, don’t you think? We’ll come back to him later when some moron
makes eye contact with him.
Pocus and Grav
Pocus and Grav have been together for thousands of years,
entertaining countless audiences, and amassing a stupendous fortune. Pocus, a green bipedal alien with four arms,
four hands, and six digits on each hand, is the front man for the act, while
Grav works behind the scenes making the magic happen. Grav is a graviton, and elementary particle
that is a source of sorts of gravity, except not in the way physicists might
tell you, those ignorant bastards.
So, Grav can do a number of things, some of which I will
explain. One thing Grav can do is create
gravity wells of various strengths.
These gravity wells exert force on objects, drawing them in. Grav can create an infinite number of these
wells. Think about that for a
second. Let’s say you are standing atop
a pile of broken glass and Grav creates a gravity well fifty feet above
you. Let’s also say the gravity well is
strong enough to pull you all the way up to it.
Then let’s imagine what would happen to you if Grav got rid of that
gravity well while you were fifty feet above a pile of broken glass. Get the picture? Another wonderful thing Grav can do is cause
gravitational explosions, something he rarely does, something quite deadly for
anyone caught in the wake of one of those releases of gravity pressure waves
that tend to pulverize things. The last
thing I’ll mention is Grav’s ability to negate gravity locally, in as many
locations as he chooses. I certainly
hope you know what gravity is, because I am not going to explain it any further.
This night is the night of Pocus’ and Grav’s one hundred
thousandth show, a special night. There
is a special person in the audience tonight, Balthiton, a wizard, a real
wizard, no fan of Pocus and Grav.
Balthiton fully expects that on this night he will expose Pocus and Grav
as frauds. Of course, Balthiton looks
just the way you would expect a wizard to look, which is fortunate for Pocus
and Grav because they will know the second they see Balthiton, know what he is
and know what the wizard is up to. Many
wizards have tried to expose the two in the past, but Grav has always managed
to take care of the problem. Balthiton,
unaware of the fact that he sticks out like a demon in a host of angels, fully
expects he will cause Pocus and Grav to suffer the most ultimate form of
humiliation, and when he accomplishes this he will turn them both into frogs, a
pretty standard wizard trick.
Pocus scanned the audience for signs of trouble, almost
immediately spotting a wizard in their midst.
He mentioned this to Grav.
“We’re not getting paid much for this show. Why don’t I just kill them all?” said Grav.
“Excellent idea,” said Pocus.
Grav directed a gravity explosion toward the crowd, killing
everyone, including the wizard. Pocus
and Grav then teleported to Uthio Minor to enjoy a nice stroll on the beach.
You should know this.
I don’t like wizards. Anyway,
Bleek is on the very same stretch of beach that Pocus and Grav are on. Of course, Grav can’t make eye contact with
anyone, so he is safe, but Pocus has eyes and those eyes just noticed Bleek
dancing madly on the beach. Pocus and
Grav decide they are going to investigate.
Bleek notices Pocus. He can’t see
Grav since Grav is an elementary particle.
Bleek does a split, jumps back up, slaps himself on the face and howls,
warning Pocus to not make eye contact.
Pocus and Grav understand none of this and continue toward Bleek.
Turks and Friends
Turks Blather, intrepid reporter for The Infinite Reboot and Revisionist
Press, sits at a desk in an absolutely enormous five thousand floor
skyscraper in the middle of New Times City on Print, a planet not too far away
from Earth, but not as close as you might think. A terminal, a very special terminal, sits on
the desk, a wholly unique terminal that Turks, and only Turks, can use.
Right now, Turks is sifting through the universal event logs,
logs that tell him pretty much everything that is happening in the
universe. Needless to say there are an
almost infinite number of entries in the logs, making them somewhat difficult
to sift through. However, Turks has the
help of two programs, intelligent programs that can help him find interesting
bits of news to report on. These two
programs are plog and find. Plog helps
isolate logs for certain parts of the universe and find allows Turks to search
for specific types of events, very handy programs. There are two other programs on this
terminal, rm and reboot. Rm allows you
to remove events from history, useful if you want to make something not have
happened, quite good at rewriting history, and something that Turks uses
often. Reboot allows you to reboot the
universe, creating a new universe that might have some better news, another
program that Turks has used extensively.
At the moment, Turks is looking at a particular set of log
entries, log entries he almost doesn’t believe.
Apparently, God and a bunch of immortals have decided to play a game, a
game that could change things forever.
This is precisely the sort of story that will win Turks the coveted and
never yet awarded journalism award, an award that those who will award it have
determined will only be awarded once.
This award, which represents the ultimate recognition of unbiased,
detached, completely objective and without any exceptions, completely accurate
journalism, is awarded by the Committee for the Ultimate Recognition of
Unbiased, Detached, Completely Objective, and Without Any Exceptions,
Completely Accurate Journalism.
Understandably enough, the award is called The Award for Pure, Unbiased,
Detached, Completely Objective, and Without Any Exceptions, Completely Accurate
Journalism. Turks has come close to
winning this award on one other occasion, when he reported on the impending
destruction of all creation.
Unfortunately, all creation had not been destroyed, so his story turned
out to be utter bunk. It just so
happens, God and some of the immortals that are behind this new story were
responsible for creating the situation that brought the previous story to life.
Turks, now fully aware of the power of these immortals, and
of some of their self imposed weaknesses, is certain he can ensure that this
story does not turn into fifty thousand words of utter bunk.
“Plog, where are they now?” said Turks.
“They are in log AZCEFGIFGDF-9405993492834212,” said plog.
“Find, give me events surrounding Kev and Clive in that log,”
said Turks.
“They are on Forg Off fighting a Forgian Bludgeoner, and it’s
not going well. They have died exactly
five thousand, thirty-seven times. No,
five thousand, thirty-eight times.
Dammit, five thousand, thirty-nine times. Crap, five thousand…”
“I get the picture.
So, they’ll be there for a while.
What about this Arag fellow?”
“He is watching TV, understanding very little of what he is
watching,” said find.
“And the girl?”
“On Uthio Minor. She
has just completed a challenge on The Show and is trying to convince B24ME that
she needs a break.”
“Piter?”
“Staring into space, wondering what he did to deserve this,
blissfully unaware of what is about to happen to him.”
“What is about to happen to him?”
“Look,” said find. “I
don’t know the future. All I know is
something is about to happen to him, just like something is about to happen to
you and me and virtually everybody else in the universe.”
“Fine. Bri and the
Sphere.”
“Well, this is interesting.
Bri has gone to some bar called Singularity, not the one on Gamma
War. He is looking for new friends. You know, I believe that is the bar Piter is
in right now. Anyway, the sphere has
gone to 37,000 BC to look for someone interesting to connect to. Come to think of it, Arag is in 37,000 BC
right about now. Go figure.”
“What about Jesus?”
“Jesus has found the red cube on Birth Right, quite a find if
you ask me.”
“Okay, that’s everyone.
They’re all immortal, right?”
“Correct,” said find.
“Plog, find logs for individuals who intend to be a part of
this story except people in the main group,” said Turks.
“I have only one log BOKCHOY-5498739872,” said plog.
“What do you have, find?” said Turks.
“Bok Choy, pissed off because he wasn’t given enough
attention in Kev. He is at
Singularity Bar on Gamma War, having a green tea and waiting for Kev to show
up. He wants to tag along with Kev,
hoping readers will see what an interesting character he is,” said find.
“Great twist. I guess
I’m going to go to Earth, 37,000 BC first.
This Arag might be the most interesting character in the story,” said
Turks.
“Have fun,” said plog and find.
“Run trackers on everyone so I can know where they are at all
times,” said Turks.
“Will do,” said find.
Turks teleported to Europe, 37,000 BC, into a beautiful stone
house, where a Neanderthal sat on a comfy couch eating an apple, staring at a
TV.
“Quiet, it’s getting to the good part,” said Arag,
waving a hand at Turks.