9. Close Encounters
Starbase Gandalf, Starbase Gandalf
on moon Gollum:
I SAW IT.
Starbase Gandalf, this is, this is
Lieutenant Redshirt, of the SS Undertaker lasering in report of second Crowley,
planet 4, fly-by recon.
My trajectory took me over Crowley’s south polar
eye-storm. It’s winter there, polar night, so the eye-storm’s continuous
lightning is easy to see.
Despite radio interference from the
storm, I was able to monitor transmissions from Kitchener. So I heard about the battle. How
the truce was broken, how fighting escalated…
I heard about the graviton emitter…
And I saw them… I saw the gravitons.
They were huge. They blazed as they
flew. They spewed out light and radiation as they hurtled at near light speed.
Then they detonated, each one at precise coordinates.
I saw Kitchener destroyed. And Danport. And Franklin. And Potter. And
Podkayne. And Tono-Bungay. And many, many others. I saw it.
And then, silence. I attempted to
raise a signal. None detected, anywhere in orbit around Elvis. I was the last
man alive in a dead star system.
A megasecond passed…
And then…
Kitchener reappeared in a burst of
replication energy. And so did Danport. And Franklin. And Potter. And Podkayne. And
Tono-Bungay. And all the other settlements orbiting Elvis.
All are now replicants. I know this
because I saw it all.
I saw it….
Enemy activity detected.
Redshirt out.
# # #
The most mysterious phenomenon associated with the replicator is
the replication vision. Many replicants, shortly after materialization, claim
to have recently had encounters with otherworldly beings. It is undecidable
whether or not these visions are 'genuine' -- i.e. of spiritual entities
somehow connected with astronomical bodies in the Elvis system -- or
hallucinations -- i.e. the too-revealing 'reboot' of the replicant's brain. Do
these conversations occur before replication – whatever that means – or are
they confabulated shortly after? It is not decidable which explanation gives
less comfort to the replicant, for the experience is not inherently pleasant.
The experience is highly subjective. No two visions are alike, and
some see deities known only to themselves. The latter are usually fetishists
personalizing their obsession objects.
Whatever replication visions are,
mystic vision or neurological glitch, they are never welcomed by those who
experience them. Perhaps there is something within brain and psyche that does
not bear well under introspection. It's enough to make one wonder if the
Ellisonian Theory isn't correct.
# # #
Afterwards,
everybody tried to make some sort of sense of it. Afterwards, in recollection, they seemed to
recall… encounters: snatches of conversation, some images and actions --
dreamlike, illogical, more real than real. Afterwards they could find words
that fit.
Not
during. During, there are no words.
But
afterwards, this is what they told themselves they remember:
# # #
“…
but first, riddle me this. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”
Randy
Underwood wiped custard cream pie off his face. He said, “A circle has no
beginning.”
Murphy
said, “That is correct! You win your soul back!” Murphy was one handspan tall, and as green as
a leaf from head to toe. His tiny ears were pointy and tufted. The trickster
god said, “And have I got a deal for you! Just answer three riddles, and you
get a wish!”
Randy
said, “But if I don’t answer?”
The
Gremlin King said, “Then I get you.
So riddle me this. Why is it dark at night?”
Randy
said, “Because the universe is expanding.”
Murphy
said, “That is correct! Now riddle me this. What is the speed of darkness?”
“The
same as the speed of light.”
“But
what is the speed of light?”
“The
same for everybody.”
Murphy
said, “Again, correct! Now riddle me this. Is light a wave or a particle?”
Randy
said, “That depends on how you look at it.”
“That
is correct!”
“So
I get my wish now?”
“A
wish? From me? Sure! Just answer
three riddles!”
“But
I already answered three riddles!”
“But
I’m already an agent of chaos!”
Murphy retorted. “Speaking of chaos, riddle me this; when did the wind shift?”
Randy
said, “I know that one! When a butterfly flapped its wings!”
“Alright,
smart aleck, then riddle me this; why did the apple fall?”
“Because
space-time is curved!”
“Correct!
But riddle me this; why don’t rivers run backwards?”
“Because
you can’t unscramble an egg!”
“Then
why can’t you unscramble an egg?”
“Because
rivers don’t run backwards!”
Murphy
said, “Correct! And now you get a wish!”
“Good!”
Randy said, “So here’s my wish. Smite my
enemies!”
“Ooo,
a vengeance wish! What fun!”
“Crash
their hard drives! Plant trojans in their e-mails and glitches in their
programs!”
“Hey,
some of my best friends are glitches!”
“Put
sand in their bearings, sugar in their gas tanks and dirt in their oil!”
Murphy
thought it over. “Smite your enemies, eh?”
“Blast
them with chaos! You’re good for it, you know you are!”
“To
be sure! But still, why blast your enemies? Why not you?”
Randy
shrugged. “Fill my life with chaos?
What for? That would be pointless!”
Murphy
scratched his pointy little head. “Ah, I see. Your life’s already a mess.”
Randy
said, “Malvolio, now, he’s much more
together than I am! He’s Mister Control Freak Incarnate! Mess him up for a change!”
SPLAT! A pie hit Randy in the face. Randy removed
the pie tin from his face and licked his lips. Custard cream pie.
Murphy
said, “Proposal accepted.”
“Good!”
“But
first, riddle me this. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”
Randy
Underwood wiped custard cream pie off his face. He said, “A circle has no
beginning…”
# # #
Belladonna
said, “How dare you call me that?”
“I’ll
call you whatever I want to! And what are you going to do about it, huh?”
“I’ll
- I’ll tell Daddy!”
Roseanne
guffawed. Her breasts and belly shook. “That’s rich! Thaaat’s rich! You’ll run
to that so-called Galactic Overlord and whine that Rosie was mean to you!”
“He
is Galactic!”
“No
he isn’t, you idiot! And what’ll he do? Where’ll he send his goons?”
“Um...
where are you?”
“Exactly!
And what am I? Am I a goddess? Am I a
planet?”
“You’re
a hallucination!”
The
goddess of motherhood said, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just a glitch in
your twisted little brain. But if so, then I’m your glitch in your
twisted little brain! And this
hallucination is calling you a bitch,
a skank, and a loser!”
Belladonna
said, “Isn’t this getting a little… personal?”
Roseanne
said, “That’s ri-ight! I’m in your face,
honeybun; and I’m in your head! So
listen UP, you HO! It’s time for Daddy’s little girl to GET A LIFE!”
# # #
Kinndur
strained against his bonds.
“Iron
Mistress, let me go!”
The
Undertaker answered, “No!”
Kinndur’s
personal goddess had a woman wrestler’s physique. With muscles like that, she
could throw him across the room, no trouble. The spirit of his beloved ship was
dressed in a leather mask, leather gloves, a leather girdle, fishnet stockings,
leather boots, lace panties, and little else. She bore a paddle.
Kinndur
said, “I love you!”
The
Undertaker yelled, “Then CRAWL, you WORM!”
Kinndur
inch-wormed up to her boots.
She
ordered, “Lick them!” He licked her
boots. She ordered, “Confess!”
He
looked up and said, “I’m a bad boy!”
“Bad
boys get SPANKED!”
WHAP!
# # #
The Tech
Gods were inspecting the wreckage of the Undertaker.
Doc Hal said,
“The rectilinear reciprocator is askew!”
Horatio Algernon Drudge said, “I’ll re-align it!”
Sir Arthur said,
“The turboencabulator is de-gaussed!”
Horatio Algernon Drudge said, “I’ll re-polarize it!”
Isaac the Great
said, “The thiotimoline is desynchronized!”
Horatio Algernon Drudge said, “I’ll re-polymerize it!”
Brother Robert
said, “The gostack is distimmed!”
Horatio Algernon Drudge said, “I’ll re-lesnerize it!”
Warlock Larry
said, “The mana is depleted!”
Horatio Algernon Drudge said, “I’ll re-enchant it!”
The Tech Gods
looked at each other. Doc Hal said, “You’d better do that.” Sir Arthur said,
“That and more.” Isaac the Great said, “More to the Nth power!” Brother Robert
said, “Better grok it all.” Warlock
Larry said, “And whatever you do…”
And the Tech Gods
said in unison, “GET IT RIGHT NEXT TIME!”
# # #
Irving
Nimrod Poindexter screamed “NOOO!!!”
He
jumped out of the closet and ran, and ran, and ran. He dodged and weaved
through doorways, along corridors, up stairways and down ladders.
But as
he ran, the Voice pursued him. It wailed, “Come to me!”
“NO!”
“I want you…”
Irving
Nimrod Poindexter wailed, “Leave me alone!” He saw a door, marked “Sewage
Overflow Containment”. He jumped in and closed the door.
There.
Dark. Quiet. Safe.
Then
suddenly, at his left ear…
“You
great steaming hunk of a man,”
Marilyn crooned. “Big boy, stay with
me…”
# # #
The
Empress said, “What kind of air is
that? Methane, ethane, ammonia, chlorine, carbon monoxide, and a dash of
cyanide? And a huge stable bacterial ecology to keep it there? Did you know we were coming?”
Miss
Liberty just laughed.
Dulgencia
hissed, “You’re useless!”
Libby
said, “Exactly!”
“Oh,
I understand! Useless to me is useful
to you!”
Miss
Liberty pirouetted and trilled, “Tra-la-la-la-laa!”
Dulgencia
frowned. “Outrageous!”
“Tra-la-la-la-laa!”
“And
the example you set! Those
Columbians… organizing them is like herding cats!”
“Better
a cat than a sheep!”
“Those…anarchists don’t even honor paper
money.”
“It
keeps out the riff-raff!”
Dulgencia
declared, “They are as useless as you
are.”
Miss
Liberty laughed. “How sweet of you! And
in return… some free advice.”
“Advice?
From the likes of you? What do you
know that an Empress does not?”
“Just
this. Dump him.”
“What?!”
“You
heard me, sister. Dump the creep. Take the girl.”
“But…
but...” Dulgencia clutched at her pearls. “What’ll I do?”
“Without
him? Lots better. Don’t worry, kitty, you’ll land on your feet.” Then Miss
Liberty jumped into the air. She flew away at the speed of the wind.
Dulgencia
cried, “Wait! Come back!”
Liberty, laughing,
disappeared.
# # #
Malvolio
was flying through space. By force of pure will he accelerated, decelerated,
banked, and turned. “Flight is sight,” he thought to himself. “You fly on wings
of vision. To move, just change your point of view.” He whipped into and out of
a corkscrew spin. He thought, “Flying’s beyond easy. How did I ever not fly?”
The
cinder-world Loser flashed by. It yelled, “Loser!” Then Terminus passed. It
said, “Hasta la vista, bay-bee!” Ahead
loomed… darkness.
Blackegg.
The
black hole was directly in his path, and closing fast.
Malvolio
turned hard to port and willed high gees. The dark star’s mighty tidal force
grabbed his legs and feet. His boots slipped loose, then off, then tumbled
away.
The
black hole muttered, “More…”
Malvolio
strained at maximum thrust. His sword and his blaster pulled heavily at his
belt. His pants slipped off his waist, then below his knees, then to his feet,
and off, down, down, down, through the event horizon.
Blackegg,
the Thief God, rumbled, “I want more…”
Malvolio,
naked below the waist, accelerated free into open space.
Behind
him, Blackegg roared, “I want more, more,
MORE…”
# # #
…
and the Wizard King said, “You are, of course, entirely in the right.”
“You’re
doing it again!”
The
sorcerer said, “It is a curse, laid upon me by the King and Queen of the Shee.”
“That’s
the most absurd fable Meeper has ever heard!”
“You
are, of course, entirely in the right.”
“Again you do it! Is that some sort of compulsion? Every time Meeper contradicts you, you say
that Meeper is entirely in the right!”
The
mage said, “That geas is, indeed, the Shee curse. I am compelled to assent to
all contradiction. Cai-bel and Etar laid this spell upon me as a hindrance and
a detection.”
“It’s
inhuman! It creeps Meeper out!”
“Pardon
my uncanniness,” said the god of magick. “I come to grant you a vision.”
“For
Meeper? Of what?”
Crowley said, “Writer’s Paradise.”
The Wizard King waved his wand. “Above the Blessed Battles,” he said, and they
saw a glimpse of holy warfare – “above the Reward of the Chosen Few” - and they saw a vision of a city of gold – “above even the Fame of the Celebrities” –
and they saw a clip from an awards show – “lies the Perfect Bliss of the Great
Makers.”
Meeper
asked, “The makers of what?”
Crowley said, “The Makers
and Creators of the Heavens and the Earths. Behold now Writer’s Paradise!” He waved his wand, and Writer’s Paradise appeared.
Crowley said, “These
blessed souls are in ecstasy, for they are doing the Great Work. Only creators
know this joy. If you know it not, then
I pity you.”
They
beheld Writer’s Paradise awhile.
Crowley said, “Witness
the beauty of this holy abode! The marble halls, the stained glass, the inlaid
mosaics and the illuminated tapestries! See also the glory of its godlike
inhabitants! Such avatars of grace! Such paragons of style! Seers of the ideal,
themselves ideal in body and mind, eternally proclaiming immortal truth in
flawless verse!”
Meeper
retorted, “Meeper sees nothing of the sort! Meeper sees a pigsty! A filthy den! A
sloppy midden of books, pencil
shavings, crumpled waste paper and half-written first drafts! Its denizens are
ill-clad, ill-groomed, ill-fed, muttering, cursing lunatics, all of them
scribbling raucous nonsense across acres of spoiled paper! This ‘Writer’s Paradise’ is a mess,
and its inmates are freaks! Every
single one of them is as freakish as – as Meeper!”
Pause.
And
the Wizard King said, “You are, of course, entirely in the right...”
# # #
“O
Holiest of Holies, Supreme Being, Light of Existence, Unmoved Mover, First
Cause, Primal Processor, Cosmic Computer, I call on Thee! Hear me! Attend to
Thy worshipper’s plea!”
Multivac
droned, “State your name.”
“It
is I, Tesla Nechaev, Thy most devout
worshipper, who loves Thee and reveres Thee, Thee and only Thee, O Font of all
Truth! It is I, Tesla Nechaev, once born of woman but now again born of
replicator! It is I, Tesla Nechaev, returned to this ambiguous place, seeking
wisdom from Thee, O Wisest of the Wise!”
Multivac
droned, “State your question.”
“Teach
me about the Spirit, O Wisdom God! Explain to me the Mystery of the Replication
Visions! Are they, as Underwood claims, proof of the transmigration of souls?
Or are they, as I aver, a fiction created by the shocked brain, designed to
screen itself from the incomprehensible – its own replication?”
Multivac
droned, “Your question to this system is: are replication memories the effect
of transmigration, or of biomechanism?”
“Yes,
O Luminence!”
Multivac
droned, “No possible experiment can yield evidence one way or the other.
Therefore the question is undecidable.”
“But
Mighty Multivac, what of this very vision? Surely it is proof of something!”
Multivac
droned, “Negative. This vision is unverifiable.”
“Please,
please, I beg of Thee, offer me certainty!”
“No
such certainty exists.”
“But
what is true reality? Computer, say the
word!”
It
answered with finality, “Your question is absurd.”
# # #
That’s
how they made it out to themselves, in memory.
These
are the stories they told themselves, afterwards.
During,
there are no words.
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