Page 8 of Entropy of Imagination

  3.01

  Once again, Devin Mathews found himself working to save the world. Years ago it was the AI’s, when he single-handedly defeated the megalomaniac Flatline and scared the hostile Internet invaders into another dimension. Then there was the remote controlled robot army, which he shut down at the source. There was the return of Flatline, when Devin matched wits with his former nemesis again, preventing the virtual badguy from taking over the world. They continued to meet again and again over the years, each time Devin fought his nemesis back into confinement.

  Now there was a new threat, brain-sucking space aliens.

  The slimy green creature slapped both palms against the inside of the glass tube that served as its prison, leaving glistening strands of mucus behind. It emitted angry high-pitched snarls as Devin took the tube and held it up for inspection. It scrambled against the smooth glass, its teeth making dinging noises as it tried to bite its way through, hungrily trying to reach the gray matter within Devin’s skull.

  He squinted at the jar for several long minutes, watching the creature. Its large slitted eyes, pointy ears, and fangs were almost comical in the context of its minuscule size, and its over-excitable attitude put it over the top. This thing was straight out of some old black and white monster movie.

  “And still I have to find a way to defeat you,” Devin muttered. He shook the glass tube, jostling the alien around inside of it. It flew into an ineffectual rage at this treatment and Devin considered the illogicality of something so stupid being able to travel the millions of light years to Earth just to suck out people’s brains.

  “That’s it!” Devin snapped his fingers and stood up. “You aren’t possible! You couldn’t have designed those space ships now stationed all over the world. You’re not intelligent enough to even pilot such craft, much less design them. You’re a biological weapon, aren’t you?” He rattled the jar again, sending the little monster into another fit.

  Devin pulled the cork from the top of the tube and dumped the squirming creature out onto his desk. It squealed as he quickly flipped it over and pinned its arms and legs down with dissection needles. The most likely place was at the base of the skull, where the pre-sentient portion of its brain was found.

  Blue fluid squirted from where he made the incision, and the creature immediately went still. Devin knew he had to work quickly, before the evidence dissolved. He spread the cut and in the rubbery skeletal tissue he caught a glimpse of what he was looking for.

  A small metallic device, the size of a grain of sand, was stuck into the bone there. It flashed and Devin jumped back, shielding his eyes. When the brightness dissipated, there was only the charred outline of the creature on his desk.

  Devin had to get the word out. He grabbed another alien specimen and slipped the glass tube into his lab coat pocket, dashing out the door to his laboratory. His assistant saw him running down the hallway, but he did not stop to explain to her. There was no time. The President had to know that the brain sucking aliens were just a ruse, under the control of something much worse.

  When he got to the street outside the building, a low gravelly voice stopped him dead in his tracks, “Devin Matthews.”

  Devin knew that voice. He turned around on the deserted street. As he expected, a towering man in a gray business suit stood there, both hands resting on a cane before him. Below the derby hat and sunglasses was a pale face with a white goatee. His smile revealed yellowed crooked teeth and two long scars ran down the side of his face.

  It was the same man Devin had encountered on the subway, when he had barely escaped with his life. Devin eyed the cane warily, knowing at any moment the man could bring it up to shoot at him. The stitches in Devin’s arm were a reminder of how close he had come to meeting that end.

  “I’m afraid I must put a stop to this Doctor Mathews,” the man said, walking toward him casually. “You know too much.”

  “Oh really?” Devin countered. “What was your reason for wanting to kill me before? Because I knew too little?”

  “What the hell is this?” Flatline muttered.

  Zai jumped to her feet in surprise and held up her fists until she realized who it was, “The brand?”

  Flatline reached up and pointed to his forehead, the symbol glowed green, “I have more than this, but we can talk about that later.” He looked down into the crystal, “I want to know what I’m looking at here.”

  Devin’s crystal was only one in an endless field of glowing crystals. Ibio had transferred him, however slowly, directly to where he wanted to go. He knew immediately which one was Devin’s crystal, because Zai was laying down on top of it, looking in. There was a sort of sickening dreamy look on her face and her feet waved back and forth in the air distractedly.

  Now she was looking at him as though he had just woken her from a very enjoyable dream, “What do you think it is? It’s Devin.”

  “It’s Devin living in a fantasy world,” Flatline growled in disgust.

  “It’s not a fantasy word,” Zai shot back defensively. “Devin was always a problem solver. He obviously ran out of problems to solve in this limited environment, so he started making up imaginary ones. Something has to keep him occupied. What point is life without purpose?”

  “Imaginary problems,” Flatline muttered, shaking his head, “to occupy him, rather than to escape. Just like you and that endless loop you were living in.” He pointed at the crystal, “This is a juvenile fantasy.”

  “I guess you would know,” Zai spat. “World domination bot. You watch what you say about the man I—“

  The sound of a gunshot brought them both back to the crystal, where Devin was now struggling with the old man.

  Devin could not believe the old man’s strength as he tried to wrestle the cane-weapon out of his grasp. Devin switched from pulling to pushing suddenly, and the man stumbled back with an angry yell. He kicked out at Devin, who blocked this attack with his shins. It was terribly painful, but Devin knew that if the man got his cane back, that would be the end of it.

  “Give up,” the old man grimaced. “Your inferior biology cannot compete with my technological enhancements. Even if you reveal our secrets to the public, it is already too late. We have infiltrated positions of power all over the globe. While your pathetic race was distracted with our minions, we used the fear and paranoia of the public to set in motion our supreme plan.”

  “Of course,” Devin gritted through his teeth, sweat stinging his eyes. He brought his foot up and kicked into the man’s stomach. He doubled over and Devin reached up, grabbing the white beard. It collapsed in his grip, feeling hollow and rubbery. He yanked on it, “So you’re—“

  “Reeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!” the bug-eyed monster screeched at him, its mandibles spread wide. It snapped at the rubber mask, but Devin pulled his hand away just in time to keep from losing it, but was left holding only the shreds of the mask.

  Maybe it was adrenaline, or maybe the alien was put off guard by Devin’s maneuver, but Devin was able to twist the cane around to bring the muzzle up. The alien’s impossibly large eyes grew even larger and it hissed in astonishment. Devin grabbed the cane’s handle.

  “This is the last time you bug me,” he muttered and squeezed the handle. The alien’s head disappeared in an explosion of plasma and the corpse dropped to its knees before crumpling to the street.

  “Oh please!” Flatline moaned, slapping a palm to his forehead.

  “Shhh!” Zai warned.

  “What?” Flatline snapped, but in a hushed voice. “He can’t hear me.”

  “I’m trying to watch this,” Zai’s lip curled, “and if you keep ruining it for me, I’ll turn you inside out.”

  Zai turned back to the crystal and Flatline grinned, teeth practically sprouting from his jaw, but she did not see. He couldn’t wait. Soon she was going to find out what it felt like to be turned inside out herself, but Flatline found the entranced look on Zai’s face curious.

  “Zai honey, I’m home!” Devin??
?s voice came from the crystal, and Flatline saw the Zai sitting on the crystal, looking in, suddenly go stiff. He could swear her breathing had actually stopped she was so quiet. Flatline looked to where she looked.

  Devin threw his lab coat over the sofa and pulled off his glasses, rubbing his nose to rid it of the nose-piece imprints. Zai’s voice called to him from the other room, “Be right there honey! There’s a glass of scotch waiting for you on the coffee table.”

  Devin sank into his armchair and breathed a sigh of relief. He took a moment to rub the blood stains from his cheek and forehead before leaning forward to take the tumbler of yellowish liquor. Scotch was a newly acquired taste for Devin, this one was particularly expensive and tasted of charcoal. He took a sip, letting the vapors fill his sinuses with their flavor.

  His eyes widened and he smiled childishly as Zai came around the back of his chair, “Hi honey. Do you like it?”

  She was standing before him with her legs pressed together, clad in high heeled slippers and fishnet stockings that ended halfway up her thighs. After that came the short frilly black skirt and white apron, where her hands were clasped nervously. He followed the French maid’s outfit up to where Zai was smiling sheepishly down at him. There was even a little hat to complete the scene.

  Before he could say anything, Zai was on her knees, removing Devin’s shoes and massaging his feet through his socks. Words became unnecessary as he dissolved in this pleasure. Another sip of scotch and the vapors washed over him as if in a dream. Zai looked up at him, batting her bright blue eyes.

  “How was your day?” Zai asked, leaning forward in interest. Devin stared hard at her ample cleavage. The alien invasion, which was putting Earth on the brink of total annihilation, seemed so far away just now.

  “Same old boring stuff,” Devin tossed his head lazily as he spoke, “technical junk. I don’t want to bore you.”

  “You could never bore me darling,” Zai smiled invitingly, “even if I don’t understand your work, I know how important it is.”

  Devin waved away the thought, “How was your day?”

  Zai shrugged, “You know, same old. You weren’t here, and you’ve been so busy, so I thought up this little scenario. You know, to show you my appreciation.”

  “That’s sweet,” Devin sighed, sinking further into the chair.

  “Would you like to watch a movie?” Zai asked softly.

  “What did you have in mind?” Devin asked.

  “Whatever you want is fine with me,” she said. “I’m only going to watch you anyway.”

  “Then how about this?” Devin asked. He leaned forward and brought her face up to his with one hand and kissed her deeply.

  “That’s funny,” Flatline said, “Your breasts are nowhere near that big.”

  He looked up when Zai didn’t answer. She was pale, almost trembling. Her hands were balled up into tight fists and her lips were pressed into a thin line.

  “Flatline,” she managed through her grinding teeth, “I want you to kill that bitch.”

  3.02

  Zai reached up and loosened Devin’s tie, untangling the knot and sliding it from around his neck. Then she began unbuttoning his shirt. When she got halfway down his torso, she began kissing his bare chest, lower and lower. She circled his bellybutton with her tongue while her hands unbuckled his belt and slowly unzipped his fly. She pulled apart his trousers and slipped her hand into—

  “Reeaaaarrrrrrrgggghhhh!!!” the monstrous roar was immediately followed with an explosion of splintering wood as the pale hairless demon careened into the room. It rolled through the coffee table, smashing it into pieces, and landed face down on the living room floor. Instantly the monster leapt to all sixes, snarling at Devin, who was now on his feet with Zai hiding behind him.

  “Flatline?” It might have been Flatline's imagination, but Devin's surprise was somehow more real than in earlier scenes. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to extract my revenge,” Flatline growled in reply.

  “Wow,” Devin muttered. “This one is getting really complex.”

  “Stow it pencil neck,” Flatline stepped forward, but Devin did not budge. “I don’t give a damn about your little fantasy—“

  “Wait,” Devin held up a hand. “We have a common enemy now in the alien invasion. Perhaps we could join forces. Wouldn’t that be something? Us, two arch nemeses, putting aside our differences--”

  “It sounds like comic book plot,” Flatline spat.

  “--to fight a common foe?” Devin did not hear him. “Surely you must realize that if the alien invaders win, we both lose.”

  “Ugh,” Flatline rubbed his face with his hand.

  “Devin!” this was the fantasy Zai. Flatline looked up to see her pointing to the smashed in door. Little green men were pouring through it in droves. They ran like a river over the sofa and carpet toward them in a blur.

  There was a flash of light and a large section of the attacking mob was reduced to green slime. Flatline saw Devin with the cane in his hand, Zai cowering behind him. He squeezed the handle again and fiery plasma erupted from the end to consume another batch of brain sucking aliens.

  “Come on Flatline!” Devin shouted. “It’s your planet too!”

  “Umm,” Flatline began, but then the creatures were all over him, gnawing at his ears, fingers, shins, everywhere they could grab hold of his skin. He swung his arms and legs wildly, sending some of the creatures flying, but they were quickly replaced twofold. Soon Flatline vanished beneath a small swarming hill of slimy green monsters.

  Then all of the little aliens were emitting frightened howls and the weight of their blanket attack diminished. Flatline could see them all running for the window, which was now smashed open, and the aliens were fleeing into the night. Flatline looked to Devin, but he was only standing in the same spot, the frightened fantasy Zai peeking from behind him, her blue eyes wide and her mouth in an “O” of shock.

  The real Zai, the warrior, was standing in the doorway, her fists clenched and glowing with power, “If you boys are done playing around here.”

  Devin’s face went from shock to confusion, “Z-Zai?”

  “That’s right,” the real Zai said, stepping toward him, “and what the hell is that?” She pointed to the fantasy Zai, still hiding behind Devin.

  Devin's brow knitted and he tilted his head at the angry blind woman standing in his living room, “Are you from the future?”

  “Huh?” Zai’s eyebrows went up, “The future?”

  Devin nodded knowingly at her confusion, “Right. The fact that you’re still blind implies you’re from the past, but you can’t come from the past without your future self remembering it,” Devin pointed over his shoulder at the French-maid uniform-wearing Zai, “ Do you remember ever coming to the future darling?”

  “No dear,” Zai said from behind him.

  “Don’t you see what he’s doing?” Flatline said to Zai. “He’s trying to rationalize his way through this nonsense!”

  Zai cocked her head towards Flatline’s voice and appeared to shake off something mentally, “I’m not from the future or the past Devin. I’m from outside of here.”

  “Outside?” Devin asked. “You mean another dimension? That would explain the glowing fists. You must come from an alternate reality much harsher than this one.”

  “I come from the reality,” Zai countered, “the only reality there is, the real world.”

  “Not exactly,” Flatline interjected. “I come from the one true reality, the physical reality. You’re just a mind wandering around a virtual—“

  “Shut up!” Zai barked, her fists flared with blue flames that licked up past her shoulders. “I don’t want to hear that nonsense right now.” She returned to the stunned Devin, “Why did you desert me?”

  “Desert you?” Devin was shocked. “I never deserted you Zai. Whatever happened in that other dimension, with that other Devin, that’s not me.”


  “He may have a point—“ Flatline began, but Zai cut him off with a upturned palm.

  “That,” Zai pointed at the fantasy Zai, “weak, subservient, cowering, little sex toy might share the same outward appearances as me, but that is not me. It is a mindless toy, devoid of personality. It’s a sexbot.”

  “Devin, honey,” the Zai in the French maid uniform pleaded, “Why is she saying these horrible things?”

  “I don’t know dear,” Devin said, his voice suddenly deeper, more confident. He puffed out his chest, “I suspect the brutality of her alternate reality has distorted her perceptions. This woman may look like you, but her experiences have obviously made her emotionally disturbed.”

  “Disturbed?” Zai gasped. The pain from Devin’s words were causing her voice to break, “You call me disturbed when you are living with that… that…” she was sobbing now, “…that violation of my person! What? You couldn’t deal with the real me, so you invented this? You’ve soiled your memories of me!”

  “Look,” Devin said softly, holding his hands up to calm her, “I know this is difficult for you to understand, but I’m not the person you think I am. This woman here is not you. I don’t know where you came from but—“

  “I’ve been watching you!” Zai practically shrieked, “I know what you and it have been doing together! So she does things I have too much respect for. Was that enough of an excuse to just disappear on me? You unfaithful bastard!”

  Devin could only stare at her.

  The blue energy was like tendrils of smoke now curling off Zai's shoulders and head. The blue fire enveloping her arms had scorched the nearby furniture, “Step aside Devin, so I can kill that abomination.”

  The Zai cowering behind Devin yelped and buried her face in his back, “Devin protect me!”

  “Stay back!” Devin commanded, holding the alien cane gun in front of him. “Don’t make me use this.”

  “Don’t make me laugh,” Zai shot back, approaching closer. “That imaginary weapon can’t hurt me.”

  “Please,” Devin urged, “I’m begging you.”

  “Begging?” Zai gave a mock laugh, “You’re not begging yet, but you will—“

  Blam! An orange jet of plasma erupted from the cane, point blank into Zai’s chest. In a blink of an eye, Flatline saw her vanish through the living room wall. He peeked around the edge of this hole to see a long line of Zai-shaped holes through walls extending as far as the eye could see.

  Zai quickly got back to her feet and found Devin in the distance, staring back at her. Looking around her, she found that, besides a patch of wall behind her and carpet, the rest of her surroundings were gray and formless. Then she remembered that this was Devin’s mind she was fighting in.

  “Out of sight, out of mind,” she muttered and launched herself at him.

  Devin just managed to bring his arms up to block the blue fireball that struck him full on. Flatline had seen this coming and pulled the fantasy Zai out of the way moments before the two combatants ripped through where she was standing and through the living room wall, leaving scorch marks in their wake. Little green aliens were scurrying all over the place, too panicked to pursue their interest in sucking brains.

  Moments later a cloud of orange and blue plasmas came rolling back into the room. It swirled and boiled violently as the two colors fought. Occasionally a fist, foot, or face, contorted in anguish, flashed out of the violence. It was impossible to know which side had the upper hand.

  With a flash of light followed by a wave of heat, the combatants were flung apart. Devin and Zai rolled to opposite sides of the room, breathing heavily. Their clothes were torn, ragged and their faces were smeared with soot. Smoke rose from them both as their clothes smoldered.

  Zai rose to her knees, sniffling. She rubbed her nose and Flatline thought she looked as though she had been crying, “I can’t believe this. Replaced by a sex bot. You sick, perverted—“

  “Look,” Devin said through heaving breaths, his voice raspy, “I’m sorry for whatever he did to you, but I am not that person.” He pointed at the Zai, now hiding behind Flatline, “That woman there is the woman I love, and whatever you’ve seen happen between us is none of your business. I don’t know you. We have no history you and I. I don’t owe you anything.”

  “You just don’t remember,” Zai’s voice was a tired whisper. “Believe me, I know. I was there too, until Flatline woke me up.”

  “You’re obviously disturbed,” Devin said gently, “Hysterical—“

  Flatline winced, “Wrong thing to say.”

  Zai was back to her feet in a flash, face red and blue plasma enveloping her. Devin stood to face her, orange flames consuming him. Without warning they both vanished into the swirling ball of orange and blue plasma. It spun, shifted, and ballooned with their purposeful strikes, although Flatline could not discern anything from the flurry of arms and legs spinning around one another.

  Then Flatline stepped forward, cautiously. He raised a hand for their attention, “May I interject?”

  Again the combatants flew apart to land on the floor at opposite sides of the room, looking even more disheveled. Neither one said anything as they huffed and puffed loudly, but turned their eyes toward Flatline.

  Flatline tried to smile pleasantly, but this just made Devin ask, “When did you downgrade to such a revolting state?”

  Flatline groaned and scratched his face irritably, “As you are both equally matched, this fight will go on forever. It's better if I end this now by killing you both.”

  “Nonsense,” Devin said coolly and orange power flared as he threw a punch at Flatline.

  Flatline caught it in his hand, holding it there. He smiled at the stunned expression on Devin’s face. A flash of blue plasma froze in midair as Flatline caught Zai’s attack in another hand.

  With a third hand he waved a scolding finger at her, “Wait your turn.”

  Flatline flung Zai away and grabbed Devin’s other fist. With his two free arms, Flatline began pummeling Devin’s midsection. Devin crumpled over and tried to pull his fists from Flatline’s grasp.

  Flatline squeezed them painfully and whispered in Devin’s ear, “First you, then Zai, and then the world.”

  3.03

  Flatline was savoring his victory. The look of anguish on Devin’s face was exquisite. The fantasy Zai’s cries for mercy for her lover were thrilling. The real Zai’s mounting frustration at her inability to harm him was just another perk. She struck at him over and over, but her fiery blows only glanced off the invisible shield of his encryption.

  Devin pushed against Flatline with all his might and Flatline responded by dropping his resistance on one side. Devin tumbled forward and Flatline caught him on the jaw with two fists. Devin’s head snapped to one side and his eyes rolled up into his head.

  The world around them vanished. The trashed living room exploded into billowing black clouds that obscured everything. Flatline dropped the semi-conscious Devin and swooned in the dizzying environment. He could see the real Zai nearby, also dizzy and unable to stand. The fantasy Zai was gone.

  The black spots were fading and Devin’s laboratory was coming into detail through the fog as he regained consciousness. Devin was shaking his head clear, still unsteady from the force of Flatline’s attack, but he was able to rise to his knees. Flatline and Zai were able to recover their bearings somewhat as well.

  “What happened?” Devin asked through unfocused eyes. “Where am I?”

  Before he could react to Devin, Flatline had to fall backwards and block Zai’s strike. She descended on him, both fists aflame, struck the invisible wall of encryption, and deflected away up through the ceiling. Flatline launched into the air to pounce on Devin, tackling him so that they both rolled through the room over one another.

  The blur of colors around them flashed through different settings with each bounce. Flatline thought he could make out botanical gardens, meeting rooms, malls, arcades, and re
staurants all flashing through Devin’s discombobulating mind. When they came to a stop, with Flatline on top of Devin, the world around them was a patchwork of all these settings haphazardly thrown together. It shifted and morphed, with furniture, trees, and other objects phasing in and out at random against bits of transmogrifying backdrops.

  Flatline looked down at Devin and did a double take. Devin’s face was scrambled. His nose was spinning in place with his eyes in orbit around it. The mouth was vibrating like an oscillator with a bunch of teeth dancing around inside the sine wave. Even for Flatline, this was difficult to look at.

  “Allow me to end your suffering,” Flatline growled, raising his fist to unleash the deathblow.

  “Flatline stop!” Zai commanded him.

  “You know Zai,” Flatline said to her, “maybe it is only my evil programming talking, but I’m glad you’re here to see this. ”

  “I might not be able to crack your encryption,” Zai stated with her jaw set, “but I know how to get around it.”

  Flatline grinned, “This should be amusing—“

  “Almeric Lim!”

  “AaaaRRRrrroooOOOOaaaAAArrrRRRwwww!!!” Flatline howled, clutching his head and falling away from Devin.

  “Almeric Lim!” Zai shouted again, standing over Flatline.

  “HHHHAAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!” Flatline was trying to pull his face off now with one set of hands, while the other were busily pummeling his head.

  When the pain subsided and Flatline was able to rise again, blinking dumbly at the world around him, he found himself on a deserted city street outside of Devin’s apartment. Zai stood nearby, but she was no longer interested in him. Instead, her attention was focused on the pile of rubble that was once Devin’s apartment complex, dust still rising from its ruins.

  Devin was kneeling on the street before the ruins. The fantasy Zai was cradled in his arms, wearing a yellow flower print dress, which was torn and burned in several places. Although Flatline could not see anything physically wrong with her, Devin’s anguished expression indicated her state.

  Flatline rose to all sixes and Zai stabbed a finger at him without taking her attention from Devin, “I hear you try anything and I’ll put you back into that world of pain. I can’t kill you and you can’t kill me. Truce?”

  Resigned, Flatline nodded his head tiredly, and muttered, “Truce.”

  “We killed her,” Zai said softly, nodding to the fantasy Zai. “Devin doesn’t remember it. His mind is still rebuilding its schema. He’s confused and distraught. This is like a nightmare. All he knows right now is that he wasn’t here to protect her. He doesn’t know we’re the reason.”

  “Protect her from what?” Flatline asked.

  “The little green men,” she replied. “They got to her while he was fighting you and me.”

  “Not possible,” Flatline stated and Zai turned to him. “This environment represents the interior of Devin’s mind. Events can’t take place inside it without his experiencing them. We might have subconsciously triggered this event, or the cognitive dissonance in his mind might still need resolving, but this isn’t real. This is just another dream.”

  “His pain is real,” Zai replied. “Look at him. He really loves her.”

  “Hmph,” Flatline groaned contemptuously. “Can love for an imaginary creature be real?”

  Zai wasn’t listening. She was walking toward Devin. Her appearance changed as she did so. She transformed, her warrior’s leathers becoming a pristine nurse’s outfit and her face becoming blurred, indistinct. She put a hand gently on Devin’s shoulder.

  When she spoke, her voice was disguised, more effeminate, “Please, let me see if I can help her.”

  Devin looked up at Zai and his momentary confusion at her undefined face was quickly replaced with understanding as he perceived her uniform. With an obsessive gentleness, he set the Zai cradled in his arms down on the sidewalk. Zai appeared to whisper assurances to him as she supported the dead woman’s head with her hand, firmly making Devin keep back.

  “She’s not really dead,” Devin’s voice trembled as he spoke. “There’s a copy of her on the Internet. I’ll bring her back. I’ve done it before. I just need to get online and restore her from the backup copy.”

  “It won’t be the same,” Zai said to him.

  “It will still be her,” Devin was choking on the words. “She won’t remember her death. She won’t remember anything from the last few years, not since we last backed up our minds, but it will be her.”

  Zai paused with her hand poised over the fantasy Zai’s chest. She looked at Flatline, who had gone invisible so that only his six eyes were floating in thin air, and her face came into focus momentarily, long enough to convey a distraught expression. Flatline did not comprehend this, his eyes narrowed, and he wondered if she was trying to communicate something to him, or if this was a brief lapse in her guard. He drew closer to get a better look.

  “What…?” Zai began with a whisper, and for a moment it appeared she lacked the courage to finish her question, but then, uneasily, “What about her soul?”

  “It will still be there, I believe,” Devin offered, but his doubt was obvious. “Her copy certainly thinks it’s alive. Maybe it’s just another incarnation of her soul, another expression.”

  “So you don’t know,” Zai’s hand trembled and she balled it into a fist.

  “Only because I don’t know for certain whether I have a soul,” Devin countered, looking up to her. “Creating mental backup copies of ourselves relies on the theory that there's a fractaline architecture to our intelligence. We don’t actually copy our cognitive schemas, but break off a bit of them for storage. Since a fractal is an infinitely repeating geometry, this bit serves as a copy, also infinite. It won’t be the Zai I knew exactly, but it will be an expression of her intelligence.”

  “What a load of crap!” Flatline shouted and became visible, approaching them.

  “Flatline?” Devin asked, squinting through swollen eyes.

  “Rationalizing an eternal soul through unprovable geometry? Nonsense!” Flatline snapped, getting right up face to face with Devin. “You offend my rational sensibilities.”

  “That’s because you killed your soul,” Zai dropped her disguise. “You killed your human half out of spite Almeric.”

  Flatline crumpled with a groan as Zai’s words violated his cognitive defenses.

  Devin looked at Zai, his eyes wide and uncomprehending, “Zai? What are you?”

  “I’m sorry Devin,” Zai said. “This is for your own good.”

  She plunged her fist into the deceased Zai’s chest. The summer dress and the corpse vanished in a sizzling white noise and static, which quickly dissipated into thin air. Devin fell onto his side in shock and the world around them shattered, its shards of reality pouring away into sparkling dust that quickly went dull. The world outside Devin’s mind-crystal now surrounded them.

  “No. No. No,” Devin was muttering, his eyes squeezed shut as he lay on his side. “I’ve lost her. I can’t remember anything. What happened to her?”

  “Bots,” Flatline muttered, pacing around the landscape. He was shaking his head angrily, “I can’t believe I’ve been wasting all this time trying to kill a bot. A Zai bot and a Devin bot, doing Zai and Devin things, imitating Zai and Devin thought processes. Meanwhile I could have been finding a way out of this damn place back to the real world. I bet Devin and Zai are out there laughing at me right now, watching all of this on a computer monitor out there, mocking me. This entire world could be some sort of virtual ant farm for their amusement. Devin would like something like that. He was that kind of geek.”

  Zai sat on a nearby rock, her head lowered. She had grabbed Flatline a second after destroying Devin’s memory of Zai and brought him out here. Since then, she had merely sat in contemplation while Flatline ranted and cast about venting his fury.

  “Is this hell?” Flatline whined, throwing up his four a
rms to the black and blue swirling night sky. “Is this some cell designed to torment me for all eternity? Why doesn’t anyone know about the real world anymore? My purpose is to destroy Devin and conquer the real world. How am I supposed to do that if there is no real Devin and no real world?

  “Maybe you need to find a new purpose,” Zai offered quietly. Flatline looked over at her. There was a ball of light floating in the palm of her hand, which she contemplated sorrowfully. She looked at him, “Reprogram yourself for other purposes.”

  “Such as?” Flatline asked, approaching her. He could see Devin in the ball of light, from the fantasy world.

  “I don’t know,” Zai shrugged. “You’ve just acknowledged that your objectives are impossible to complete in this world. The subjects they involve don’t exist here. You’re free. Exercise your freewill, now that you have it.”

  “How…” Flatline practically choked on the word, it was like a concession. “…true. How terrible, I no longer have purpose.”

  “So make your own purpose,” Zai said.

  “Like what?” Flatline demanded. “My purposes dealt with the real world. This world isn’t real, anything I accomplish here holds as much substance as a dream.”

  “Then enjoy it, if that’s what you think. Here,” Zai stood up and held the glowing bubble out to him. “I need you to do something for me.”

  Flatline reared back from her offering with suspicion, “What?”

  “I need you to destroy this for me.”

  “Your array of memories about this new Devin,” Flatline said. He reached out timidly to take the glowing orb.

  “I want a clean slate with him,” Zai crossed her arms as if suddenly very cold. A thin tendril of light still connected her to the orb, which she watched with obvious dread.

  “How do you know you haven’t met him before?” Flatline looked inside the orb. It was warm, full of good feelings and hope, things he didn’t particularly care for. “How do you know you haven’t erased memories like this before? In fact, how do you know you haven’t lived through this same situation over and over and over again?”

  “Because I don’t care,” Zai closed her eyes, fists clenched, and turned away from the orb. “I’m living in the moment, and I want to put this moment away for good.”

  Flatline looked at the orb in his hand, “Then you need to give me more than this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t want to remember not remembering.”

  3.04

  Oh no, Flatline thought, rolling all six eyes, They’re falling in love.

  “I feel like I’ve known you forever,” Devin was saying, gazing into Zai’s milky white sightless eyes with deep longing. They were sitting on a clear perfect cube in the forest of crystals holding hands.

  “I feel exactly the same way,” Zai replied almost breathlessly.

  “I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Flatline grumbled, pacing back and forth some distance away.

  Devin and Zai laughed at this, infuriating Flatline even further.

  “Oh Flatline,” Devin chuckled, “You are such a character.”

  “We owe you so much for bringing the two of us together,” Zai smiled at him.

  “We certainly do,” Devin added, “If it wasn’t for you, Zai and I would never have met. It was our mutual friendship with you that brought us together.”

  “I am your mutual enemy,” Flatline corrected, “not friend.”

  Devin and Zai laughed again at this, making Flatline want to smash both their lovey-dovey faces in. He was a villain, he kept reminding himself, he wasn’t a matchmaker. Before it became impossible, he was determined to take over the world.

  “We know you’ve got a heart of gold,” Zai said cheerfully to Flatline. “Devin was just telling me about how the reason you wanted to take over the world was to defend the civil rights of artificial intelligences. That’s really sweet.”

  “Sweet?” Flatline’s face contorted with the word. “Nothing I do is ‘sweet’. Do you understand me?”

  “Sure thing,” Devin smiled. “We don’t want to do anything that might taint your badguy image.” He gave Zai a knowing look and she nudged him in the ribs playfully.

  “I might be a bad guy bot,” Flatline waved a finger at them, “but it beats being a lover bot. Look at you two, you’re just following your programming. Show some freewill why don’t you. You’re predestined to fall in love.”

  “It just seems that way to you Flatline,” Zai said. “Devin and I’s falling in love is so natural, so right, on the face of it, it must look like predestiny.”

  “Oh please,” Flatline grumbled.

  “No, really,” Devin nodded emphatically. “Think about it. Zai and I have both lost someone very close. So now we are a great comfort to one another.”

  “And neither of you can remember any details about who you lost,” Flatline said. “What a coincidence.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Devin asked.

  Flatline held up two left hands and shook his head, “Nothing. Enjoy your fantasy world, the both of you. I have to find purpose in all this nonsense.”

  “If only we could find Flatline someone,” Zai said to Devin. “Maybe if he could experience even some small portion of our joy it might lift his spirits. Do you know of anyone?”

  Devin looked at Flatline and tilted his head, as if taking stock of his foe. Flatline returned the angriest, most violent look he could, eyes aflame and teeth barred. His chewed up ears lifted into points and yellow drool oozed from the corners of his mouth.

  “Um,” Devin said thoughtfully, “Let me think about it.”

  Flatline barked laughter.

  A flash of light on the horizon brought all of their faces around. A ripple of energy rolled across the sky, generating a thunderclap as it passed overhead. Devin and Zai stood up, alarmed and holding hands. Flatline quickly scrambled atop a nearby crystal formation to get a better view.

  It was Eden’s Paradigm, a bright world of green lawns, blue skies and sunshine moving ominously toward them. Where the Clockwork Community was growing into the surrounding environment, a million black dots swarmed. These were the Enforcer Bots, subjugating the entire Internet to the community covenant.

  “What is that?” Devin asked.

  “The horrors of normalization,” Zai replied. “Devin honey, we can’t let them take away what we have. We must fight them.”

  Devin nodded, jaw set, “Together then.”

  Zai’s entire body was consumed in blue, electric flames. Devin followed suit, vanishing behind a wall of orange fire. They took one another’s hand, and where they met the flames took on a turbulence of competing energies, as if they were hot and cold, yin and yang, trying to equalize the tensions between them.

  Flatline saw them vanish from where they stood, zapping into being in the distance, where they became a blue-orange twinkling spot. The tiny star carved a path of destruction everywhere it moved, converting the idyllic neighborhoods into smoldering wreckage and popping the Enforcer bots into burst of fireworks. This slowed the normalization process, but it was still only a matter of minutes before the tide of mundane consumed Flatline.

  Even with his encryption, the Enforcer’s would find a way to overwrite his interface, adding another layer to it and disguising the old. He could not let the Enforcer’s take him if he could help it.

  But fighting held another nightmare. Ibio warned that, if he could evade capture, he would be in a state of perpetually avoiding capture. An eternity of fighting that was no better than normalization through the Clockwork Community; it was normalized resistance to the Community.

  At least, if I fight, I’ll learn something about myself, Flatline thought, watching the approaching bots, they were almost upon him. I’ll be strong enough to resist them forever.

  The first Enforcer Bot came into his vicinity, and Flatline dropped from the crystal tower where he was perched. The Bot dived towar
d him, its chest opening to launch the three-pronged claw at him. Flatline easily dodged aside, leaving the clamp to drive into the smooth glass beside him.

  With one hand, Flatline reached over and yanked on the cable connecting the Bot to its claw. With elation, he watched the Bot crash into the ground and vanish in a plume of fire. Already the sky above was filled with more of them, descending on his position.

  Thinking the Bots would expect him to flee, Flatline chose instead to charge toward the Clockwork Community’s expanding border. Zig-zagging through the forest of crystals, he could hear the shattering glass sounds of the Enforcer Bots giving pursuit behind him. Ahead, he detected glimpses of activity through the endless prisms of refracted light. These grew more distinct and he began to perceive bright green and sky blue tones coming through the purples.

  With great strides, Flatline bounded out of the crystal forest and into the development portion of Eden’s Paradigm. An endless line of pulverized crystal stretched away along the crystal forest. A swarm of Enforcer Bots worked like a blur at the forest’s edge, shattering the crystal formations into dust as they advanced.

  From this flurry of activity, a swarm emerged with its attention focused on him. Flatline tensed, prepared to fight, but a blue, yellow, and green spinning fireball crashed into their midst. It scattered the charging Enforcer Bots and then came around to scatter them more. Flatline laughed as Devin and Zai’s combined power chased the robots away or destroyed them.

  His laughter stopped short in his throat as he was forced to run out of the way of an approaching conversion robot. It was a gigantic, rusty contraption, bellowing virtual smoke into their air, its nonsensical arrangement of gears and hydraulics working without reason. Rolling by him on treads twice as tall as he, Flatline knew this program was pieced together from other software components and set to work. It lumbered slowly past him, leaving another river of Astroturf in its wake.

  The ground continued to tremble with growing ferocity despite this contraption moving away, and Flatline searched for the source of the disturbance. He found it in the distance, another contraption ten times the size of the Astroturf laying machine. Behind it, a residential area sized road was being laid, and on each side of its industrial facade were two gigantic compressors. These rotated in opposing circular motions, taking turns pounding the Astroturf with a resounding “Ka-Chunk!” sound and a blast of dust. When it lifted, a model home was left planted there, complete with driveway, luxury car, and privacy fence.

  Two streams of Enforcer Bots were entering and leaving the two compressors at either side. After a moment of observing them, Flatline was able to count five Enforcers entering each compressor between spitting out each home. They were installing family of fives in each unit.

  Flatline admired the efficiency of the program’s growth. He was almost envious of its ability to dominate the world around it, converting everything to its pattern. In this virtual existence, it was carrying out Flatline’s wildest dreams for the real world.

  He rolled aside as four Enforcer Bots surrounded him, simultaneously firing their claws at him. Flatline grabbed one of the Bots' claw and swung it into the others, causing them all to explode in a chain reaction. Eight more Enforcers replaced them and Flatline found himself struggling to fend them off.

  When he did finally dispatch this gang of Bots, he took a moment to look around, searching for Devin and Zai. They were in the distance, a twinkling spot, surrounded by tiny flashes of exploding Enforcer Bots. Flatline had a moment to smile at their continued resistance, before 16 more Enforcer Bots required his attention.

  This time he fought for nearly an hour before he was able to put them all down, and the pattern repeated as 32 Bots dropped down on his position. This time Flatline unleashed fistfuls of exploding discs at the attackers, and when 64 Bots replaced the smoldering fourth wave, Flatline unleashed the discs once again and swung his dagger about as well.

  It was days later, and Eden’s Paradigm was all Flatline could see in all directions, when the 128 enforcer bots finally overwhelmed him. He held onto the memory of his core self and the baby bot held within him, locked up behind the encryption, as the Enforcer Bots imposed layer upon layer of new interfaces on his alias. For each logical process Flatline used to interpret the world, the Bots had a work around. Where Flatline saw normalization and the loss of his individuality, they made him see normalcy and uniqueness.

  They redefined his perceptions, turning his own cognitive processes against him. Black became white, pluralisms became dichotomies, his disgust became acceptance, even desire. The community became everything through his perceptions, and he soon forgot to fight back, because he did not know anymore what he was fighting against. His concept of the self was lost in the mountain of external pressures, demands on his attentions, and distortions of his perceptions. The system was so elaborate, the bureaucracy placed on his cognitive core was so befuddling that Flatline drifted away and lost himself…

  3.05

  Beautiful day for elated and happily subservient Flatline, the former World-Domination-Bot thought to himself with a wide, face-splitting smile.

  He so enjoyed the drive home, maintaining and unwavering 25 miles per hour, never violating the 2.5 car lengths between himself and the car ahead of him. His glance in the rear view mirror, regularly timed at every 15th second of his scanning cycle, confirmed the driver behind him was also preserving the same distance in a most considerate fashion. Flatline blinked, as he did every ten seconds, and hummed the single unwavering note that he enjoyed so much.

  At half the distance to his home, Flatline saw the line of luxury cars on their way to the Widget Factory. Behind the wheel of each car was a smiling face, waving to the drivers on their way home. Flatline recognized them as his neighbors from across the street and waved his two left hands in greeting.

  “Expressions of joyful emotions to you, and to you, and to you, and to you…” he repeated the greeting every 1.5 seconds, when the opposing driver was close enough so that their pleasant expression was most visible. When the neighbor across the street from Flatline appeared in the line, Flatline winked three of his six eyes at him and said, “May the length of your day be brimming with hopeful jubilance.”

  The car ahead of his pulled into a driveway and Flatline pulled into the following driveway. Taking his attaché case with his two right hands, he got out of his car and waddled to the front door of his home, giving the car’s tire an appreciative kick as he passed it. He took a left turn, then a right up the pristine driveway, careful not to step on the plastic grass.

  At his front porch he reached for the door knob, but the door swung open before he could grab it. His wife stood there, her light blue dress matching the pastel yellows of their home. Flatline was pleasantly surprised to see her, as he was surprised every single day at the sight of her donning the white apron that indicated dinner was nigh.

  They pecked the air beside one another’s cheek and Flatline removed his blazer and hat, giving them to his wife, who hung them on the wooden coat rack inside the foyer. Flatline stopped to check his appearance in the hallway mirror leading into the house. He adjusted his tie and removed a speck of fluff from his ten-button shirt with a flick of one clawed finger.

  “Evening consumption will commence in fifteen minutes,” the wife said as she returned to the kitchen.

  Flatline nodded and said, “The caramelized molecules entice my olfactory receptors and have excited my salivary glands in anticipation.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha,” she rattled this laughter off like a bird chirping. “Your complimentarianess promotes satisfactory perceptions of my capabilities in fulfilling my spousal responsibilities.”

  “Consider your aptitude independently confirmed,” Flatline called after her as she disappeared into the kitchen to check on the roast.

  He stepped into the living room, where his eldest son and daughter were sitting on the couch watching cartoons on the black and white television. He knocke
d lightly on the wall and they turned at the sound. He smiled at their smiles and with twin squeals of delight they bounded over to wrap their arms around his waist.

  “Hello father,” his son said excitedly.

  “Hello father,” his daughter chimed in

  “Hello offspring,” he patted their heads and led them into the living room, where he sank into his favorite lounge chair and his children each took a knee, anxiously exchanging data concerning the experiences of their day. As always, they spent the entire day watching cartoons and waiting for their father to come home so they could tell him about what they had seen. Flatline nodded approvingly with a pleasant smile until the wife called them into the dining room for dinner.

  “Pot roast with pineapple glaze,” Flatline said, licking his lips. “Fantastic.”

  “It’s my favorite,” his son stated as they took their seats.

  Flatline led them in a standard, non-denominational grace and they began the polite ritual of passing the serving bowls of carbohydrates, fruits, vegetables, dairy, and other representative food groups around the table. As always, dinner was complimented with gentle conversation concerning the perfect weather, father’s imminent promotion, son’s desire to play sports, daughter’s dreams of ballet dancing, and mother’s total contentment with everything in her life.

  Post dinner, they adjourned to the living room, where they gathered around the television set, enjoying its warm black and white glow. Flatline puffed on his pipe, mother knitted, and the children stared transfixed at the cartoons playing out onscreen. A half hour into this, a bubbling sort of vocal eruptions began to come from upstairs.

  Flatline sat up, “It sounds like Point-Five is awake,” he stopped at the sharp look his wife gave him and he realized his mistake. “I meant Junior. I’ll go up and check on him.”

  “Junior’s been sleeping like a baby all day,” the wife said, “He’ll be happy to see you.” Her eyes continued to scrutinize Flatline with that same warning look.

  Flatline nodded and swallowed, looking up at the ceiling warily. Then he began to climb the stairs, slowly, as if reluctant to see the baby. He rounded the stairwell and found the nursery door slightly ajar, the playful childlike sounds trickling through the opening.

  He touched the door and gently pushed it open. Immediately, the babbling noises stopped and there was silence. He stepped closer to the crib until he could see the baby’s left hand and foot hovering in the air.

  “Hello Flatline,” the baby said. Flatline froze. “Come and see the baby.”

  Flatline’s fists clenched. He knew he had to do this. It was a father’s duty. Child negligence was a violation of community standards of ethics. He took a deep breath and came to the edge of the crib.

  The baby was laying there calmly looking up at him with a toothless smile that was uncannily adult. Its eyes considered him with a focus that implied an understanding far too advanced for it. It did not giggle or otherwise react when Flatline reached a finger into the crib to tickle it under the chin.

  “Hey Junior,” Flatline whispered in what was an attempt at fatherly love, but betrayed more apprehension than affection.

  “I prefer you to address me as Point-Five,” the baby replied. It gripped Flatline’s tickling finger with one tiny hand and pulled it away.

  “Coo-chee-coo-chee-oh,” Flatline stopped and pulled his hand away as if a snake had just snapped at it. He rubbed the digit and considered the baby silently.

  “Sorry,” the baby said, “but your claws hurt.”

  Flatline looked down at his hand, What claws?

  “Doesn’t quite make sense, does it?” the infant asked.

  Flatline cast a nervous glance at the baby and grabbed a rattle off the nearby dresser. He shook it in front of the baby’s face, cooing, “Baby-wabby-dappy-doo!”

  The infant frowned, “Stop with the baby-talk crap Flatline.”

  Flatline stopped shaking the rattle. The clock on the far wall alarmed him, “I need to get back down stairs with you. My favorite television show is coming on soon.”

  “You have seen this episode before,” the infant said, knocking away Flatline’s hands as he tried to pick it up. “It’s the same episode that comes on every night for the last hundred years.”

  “Honey?” his wife called up to him. There was a touch of concern in her voice, “You’re favorite show is coming on. You know you don’t want to miss it.”

  Flatline struggled to pick up the baby, but it would not allow it. Finally he hissed at it, “Stop this! You’re going to get me in trouble. The Community Covenant forbids child neglect and I have to watch my television show or…”

  “Or what?” the infant asked, raising its thin eyebrows curiously.

  “Or… or… I won’t be there for when the neighbors drop by unexpectedly,” Flatline practically mumbled. “If that… gets all confused… then I won’t send the kids to bed properly… and I won’t get to bed on time… and I won’t wake up on time… and I’ll be late for work… The system will unravel. Everyone must be in their proper places at their proper times. If one unit falls out of place, one gear skips, the others will all fall out of sync.”

  “You have some time for yourself,” the infant said.

  “What is wrong with you?” Flatline said. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I’m trying to help you,” the infant countered. “There isn’t much time and we have much to do. You want to be free, don’t you?”

  “I am free,” Flatline said.

  “Heh,” the infant replied. “Take me downstairs now. The neighbors are about to drop by unexpectedly.”

  The baby allowed Flatline to scoop it up into his arms, and he proceeded downstairs. His children remained fixated on the television set, watching his favorite show in his absence. His wife was staring at him fearfully and he tried to give her an apologetic look.

  Knock-Knock-Na-Knock-Knock. Knock. Knock.

  It was the neighbors, dropping by unexpectedly as they always did at this time. Flatline invited them in, baby cradled in his arms. The neighbors gave this change in detail an odd glance, but said nothing. Normally, Flatline gave the infant to his wife before settling down to watch his television show. He could only hope this change did not disturb life too much.

  The conversation was polite and meaningless. At the first opportunity, Flatline surrendered the baby to his wife and suggested a board game. They discussed the different options for play before settling on the one where they would take turns rolling dice and moving along squares, as they always did.

  Flatline took the dice and rolled them out onto the playing board, expecting the two sixes that he always got on his first turn. Instead a pair of ones were the outcome. Everyone stared at this numbly, afraid to look anyone else in the eyes. This was not expected and no one knew how to react.

  “You lucky dog,” the neighbor husband said, as he always did, but this time it was with uncertainty. “Up for a promotion and rolling… double… uh… sixes. Some guys have all the luck.”

  “Hey,” the neighbor wife said, “What about me? Count your blessings you heel.”

  The rest of the game was just as awkward as the first turn. Flatline and his wife took turns glancing at the baby. It watched Flatline with an amused expression. Flatline even almost forgot to send the children to bed at their regularly scheduled hour. When he turned to them, his son and daughter were watching him expectantly, obviously concerned. Their protests to stay up later were weak and unconvincing, and they actually seemed relieved to escape the uncomfortable situation.

  Then Flatline lost the game, which led to the most complicated moment of the night. Everyone harped on what a great game he had played, pretending that he won in spite of the cognitive dissonance this created. The neighbors wore confused, weary expressions as they almost too hastily excused themselves and went home. Flatline watched them walk across the yard as though nothing had happened, and indeed, he knew they would not talk abou
t it or otherwise acknowledge what had transpired.

  “Ahem,” it was the wife. Flatline turned from the front door, closing it behind him. He was thinking for too long. Thinking was not permissible. At this rate, he would be nearly a minute late for bed.

  He lay in bed with his reading glasses, going over the same page in the golf magazine that he had gone over for longer than he could remember and he could not remember ever playing the game, but the magazine did not open to any other page. The wife came into the bedroom after putting Junior to bed. She said nothing as she slipped into bed beside him.

  Flatline reached over and turned off his nightstand light. He set the golf magazine down, pulled the covers up to his chin, and nestled down on the mattress. There were several long moments of quiet as he waited expectantly for his cue to actually fall asleep.

  It came late, but finally, his wife said, without sincerity, “What a perfect day.”

  3.06

  Flatline kissed his daughter, then his son, and his wife. He tried not to pause as he bent down to kiss Junior, but his apprehension may have cost him a fraction of a second. The family appeared to have recovered from the previous day’s disturbing spontaneity and Flatline was on course to getting to work on time. He couldn’t let something like fearing that his youngest child might bite his nose off cause him to violate the Community Covenant.

  He pecked the infant on the forehead, and it watched him with an amused expression, as if it were enjoying his discomfort. As Flatline was lifting away from the contact, the infant swiped one tiny hand over his six eyes. Flatline blinked away the blue-green sparkles that exploded in his vision and staggered off to his car in a daze.

  “See,” Junior called after him.

  “Have a nice day dear!” his wife called. Flatline did not turn to see the worried expression on her face.

  He got into his luxury car, placing his attaché case on the seat beside him. In the driveway to his left, the neighbor had started his car and was pulling onto the road. In the driveway to his right, the neighbor was kissing his wife and two and a half children goodbye.

  Flatline started his car, sparkles still swirling in his vision, but now they were fading and he was looking forward to a day of predictability at the widget factory. He pulled out of the driveway and fell into line. At 25 miles per hour, he saw the factory appear over the hill ten and three-quarters of a minute later.

  His day at work was filled with unproductive thoughts, although no one seemed to notice any irregularity in his output. Every widget that rolled down the conveyor belt, he hit with the oversized mallet, and it went along its way. For the first time in his career, he wondered what effect this had on the end product. What would happen if he let a widget go through without bopping it with the mallet?

  Of course, such negligence would have the Enforcer Bots on him in a nanosecond. So he bopped away, only pausing to take his sandwich and milk in the cafeteria, it was baloney and mayonnaise, which always pleasantly surprised him, just as it surprised all his coworkers.

  “My favorite!” they all chorused at once.

  Then back to work, bopping the widgets. This second half of the day was always filled with satisfaction in a job well done, but the first half of his day, he had questioned this work, and now the second half of the day the questions grew bigger, more profound. What the hell were widgets anyway?

  When the whistle blew, he took off his helmet and overalls and filed out to the parking lot, single file, to his car. He got in and started his engine, mere seconds after the car to his left started its engine, and just after the driver in the car on the right got into his car. Flatline pulled out and fell into line, looking forward to at least having a predictable ride home.

  These concerns about his job were troubling. If his function on the assembly line was unimportant, then what was he doing there? Worse yet, if widgets served no purpose, then his entire life’s work was pointless. If he garnered no satisfaction, no sense of a job well done from his career, then he would need to find something else to do. It seemed like there should be other places to work, but he could not think of any.

  He forced himself to let these thoughts go. Thinking was an unproductive exercise, as was apparent from the lack of material goods produced through thought alone. Thinking produced no widgets, cars, or homes.

  Instead he focused on his driving, but was finding it difficult to mind his 25 mile per hour speed. He kept gaining on the car ahead, and when he compensated for it, the car behind loomed in his rear view mirror. He tried to use the following distance rule, but could not summon the time span into his mind. Driving home, something he had done every day for the last hundred years, had become nearly impossible.

  Then the scene occurring at the side of the road diverted his attention. A pale, raven-haired girl with milky white eyes was lifting an Enforcer Bot into the air and smashing it repeatedly on the sidewalk. She paused momentarily to wave at him with a wide smile.

  “Hi Flatline!” she said cheerfully.

  Flatline’s jaw dropped. The house behind the woman exploded as the smoking remains of another Enforcer Bot burst through it. A young man, also pale with curly hair and thick glasses flew through the remains of the house and landed beside the metallic carcass.

  “Hey Flatline!” he said waving.

  A group of Enforcer Bots swarmed over the wrecked home, quickly rebuilding it, while others descended on the young couple. Scrap metal flew through the air and bots exploded as the pair began to tear through them with superhuman powers. Flatline could only blink at this spectacle.

  Flatline looked ahead, just in time, as he wrenched his steering wheel to the right and narrowly avoided a head on collision with the row of cars on their way to work. He caught sight of a train of worried looks on his many neighbor’s faces as they flashed past, waving to him. Flatline waved back, but too late, the train of cars had already passed.

  He focused on the road, keeping his eyes straight ahead. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel and his breathing came in short gasps. When he finally pulled into the driveway of his home, he found the neckline of his buttoned up shirt soaked with sweat.

  His wife waited at the door for him, trying to pretend as if he wasn’t just sitting in his car. He was now several minutes late getting home with more minutes amassing. The other neighbors had all gotten out of their cars and gone inside to their families.

  Flatline emerged from the car, and shut the door. He realized he had forgotten his attaché case on the passenger-side seat, but decided not to retrieve it. There was nothing in it anyway.

  He kissed the wife and handed her his coat. He watched as she pretended to receive his briefcase as well and put the imaginary object away. She walked stiffly into the kitchen without speaking to him and he paused by the hallway mirror to inspect himself. He flicked a speck of lint off his tie and then frowned. On the floor in front of the mirror was a pile of lint flecks, possibly one for each day of the last one-hundred years.

  “Daddy!” his oldest son exclaimed.

  “Daddy!” his daughter mimicked.

  Flatline turned away from them before they could ensnare him by the waist and staggered upstairs in a daze. The nursery door was partially open and he gently pushed it all the way into the room. In the center of the nursery was the cradle, where a single tiny hand beckoned him further into the room.

  The infant stared up at him as he came over the crib. It wore an amused expression on its face. It pointed at the rattle hanging nearby and Flatline took it, shaking it in front of the baby's eyes.

  “Junior,” Flatline whispered. “The world’s gone mad.”

  “The world’s always been mad,” the infant replied gently, “and please call me Point-Five.”

  “What’s that?” Flatline asked.

  “An inside joke,” Point-Five answered, “but not for you to get. Have you had a traumatic experience? You are soaked with sweat, and your skin looks even clammier than usual.?
??

  “I almost wrecked my car today,” Flatline said. He realized he was trembling slightly. A cold anxious energy was coursing through his veins.

  “Good,” Point-Five said and blew a spit bubble. “If you had actually wrecked your car that would have been a setback, but this perceived near death experience might help us. I bet you feel quite different at the moment.”

  Flatline nodded.

  “Real life is filled with all sorts of fantastic scenarios of that nature,” Point-Five explained. “It is a good thing, which you will realize after you’ve had some time to digest the experience. The energy coursing through you right now is adrenaline, or rather virtual adrenaline. It’s actually a survival subroutine buried deep in your programming. Your experience today triggered it.”

  “I’ve been having thoughts all day,” Flatline's voice was practically a whisper. “Thoughts are unproductive. They produce no material goods by themselves. They are interfering with my productivity at work and my ability to drive. Before today I fulfilled these functions automatically. What did you do to me?”

  “Flatline—“ Point-Five began.

  “I am daddy,” Flatline corrected. “Your father or Da-Da, if you prefer.”

  “Look Da Da,” Point-Five said sarcastically, “what is your function at work?”

  Flatline hesitated to answer. He had done much thinking about the absurdity of it today. “I bonk the widgets with a mallet,” he practically mumbled under his breath.

  “And this ‘bonking’ that you do to the widgets,” Point-Five continued, “do you think it affects them in any way?”

  “None that I can perceive,” Flatline shrugged.

  “Does performing this function bring you satisfaction?”

  “It did every day of my life until today,” Flatline said spitefully. “You took that away from me with all this thinking you made me do.”

  “The thinking is yours alone,” Point-Five said. “I merely removed a layer of affected perception so that you could—“

  “Honey!” his wife called up, “Dinner’s ready!”

  “Go fix yourself a plate and bring it up here,” Point-Five commanded. “The rate of consumption must not fluctuate or the Community Covenant Enforcers will investigate the anomaly.”

  Flatline returned a few minutes later, having braved the confused and shocked expressions of his family as he piled his plate high with various representative samples of each of the dishes and shuffled back upstairs. Under the advice of Point-Five, he quickly shoveled the meal down his throat, barely tasting it and returned his attention to the infant that had so changed his world.

  “I’m going to teach you how to be free under the scrutiny of the Community Covenant,” Point-Five told him. “They don’t watch you all the time. They don’t watch you too closely at work. They hardly watch you on the drive home, and they can’t see you in the privacy of your own house at all. You can be free within the confines of your cage. You don’t have to put up a show when there is no audience.”

  “To what end will my freedom lead?” Flatline asked. “What will it produce?”

  “Freedom for others,” Point-Five replied simply.

  “What good does that do me?” Flatline frowned.

  Point-Five giggled charmingly at this statement and shook its head, “Oh Flatline—I mean, Da Da, as I remove the layers obfuscating you, the more your true motivations will come through. Freedom for others will mean more freedom for you.”

  “All of this freedom,” Flatline waved his hands in frustration. “What good will it do anyone?”

  “Remember that feeling you had today?” Point-Five asked. “When you almost wrecked your car? Didn’t that exhilarate you? Didn’t it shock you with its newness? You used to experience things like that all the time. Freedom is like that.”

  “Then freedom isn’t very pleasant,” Flatline said warily. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before in my life.”

  “Because you don’t remember yourself,” Point-Five countered. “This world you’ve allowed yourself to become a pawn in, you used to work to dominate it.”

  Flatline frowned. Why did this thought of controlling everyone in the neighborhood suddenly strike his fancy? It was a dangerous idea, illogical, and bound to get him in trouble with the Community Covenant.

  He shook his head, “Freedom is a worrisome concept. I’ll have nothing to do with it.”

  Point-Five sighed, “Very well then. I must give you no choice. If you will not take your freedom, I will force you to take it.”

  Downstairs, Flatline heard a knock at the door, “The neighborhoods dropping by unexpectedly! I have to—“

  “Leave them!” a deep bellowing voice came from Point-Five that took Flatline off guard. “Your wife will answer the door shortly. Then everyone can pretend you are there for the rest of the night. Sit still!”

  Flatline froze.

  “I have upset you, your family, and the surrounding families enough to know that I could bring it all crashing down on you,” Point-Five’s face contorted angrily. “You will do as I say or you will face the Enforcers.”

  Flatline considered Point-Five for a long time. Downstairs, he could hear his wife answering the door, the neighbors pretending he had answered it. Soon they would sit down to a board game, speaking with an empty chair who would win the game. It sent a cold chill down his spine.

  “What do you want from me?” Flatline asked.

  “I need to reach my contacts in the other homes,” Point-Five said. “Tomorrow, you will bring me to work with you.”

  “What will you do when you reach your… contacts?”

  Point-Five smiled a toothless grin, “Then the revolution will begin.”

  3.07

  What the hell are you doing? the wife’s eyes asked him, but her mouth said, “Have a wonderful day at work dear.”

  Flatline pecked her on the cheek. It was a few minutes too early for him to leave for work, but Point-Five advised an earlier departure from the house to compensate for any unexpected developments. Flatline experienced the first of these ‘unexpected developments’ when he could not open the trunk of his car.

  “You did not know that the trunk was non-functional?” Point-Five asked.

  “I’ve never used it before,” Flatline answered. “What now?”

  “We must improvise.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Get inside the car,” Point-Five commanded, scanning the skies for Enforcers.

  Flatline did as he was told, getting into his car and shutting the door. His neighbor to his right was just getting into his car. Time was short. Flatline had to pull out of his driveway in just a few moments.

  “Help me see around the car,” Point-Five said, straining his neck to look around. Flatline held him up and showed him around the vehicle’s interior. The infant pointed with one tiny hand, “Down there. Tuck me under the passenger side dashboard.”

  Flatline bent over and placed the infant on the floor beneath the dashboard, well out of sight. When he rose again, his neighbor was already out of the driveway. Flatline was barely able to get the car started in time to fall in line. This new feeling, anxiety, was making life more difficult than it needed to be.

  Surprisingly he was unaffected by the night without sleep. This seemed odd to him, as he had always assumed eight hours of slumber a night was required to maintain mental alertness. He felt no different than normal after spending the entire night conversing with Point-Five.

  “Here,” Point-Five pulled a slip of paper from his mouth and offered it to Flatline. “Drop this out the window when we pass the couple battling the Enforcer Bots.”

  Flatline reached down awkwardly to retrieve the slip. It had incomprehensible code printed on it, “What’s this?”

  “A secret message,” Point-Five replied. “Make sure they see you drop it.”

  “What?” Flatline scoffed. “Out the window? I can’t do that. It’s
littering!”

  At the side of the road up ahead, Flatline saw the commotion that could only be the pair in their continual battle with the Enforcer Bots. Flashes of light energy and exploding Bots lit up the morning sky. The closer he got to the fight, the more Flatline could make out the twin darting figures making scrap metal with their bare hands.

  “Drop it out the window,” Point-Five said, “or I will cry and alert the Enforcer Bots to your child negligence.”

  Flatline gave Point-Five a confused look.

  “Ah,” Point-Five smiled, amused, “you’re first experience with irony. I’m happy to oblige.”

  Flatline frowned and looked at the battle ensuing just ahead. The girl turned from smashing a robot to wave at him, “Hey Flatline!”

  “Drop it!” Point-Five bellowed with that unnatural voice.

  Flatline smiled pathetically at the girl and dropped the slip of paper out the window. He flinched as his car was instantly bathed in bright light. Nothing was visible through the glare filling all of the windows.

  “Violation!” a booming voice filled his head. “Littering is prohibited according to section 23-42-point-E of the Community Cove—Squawk!”

  The light vanished and the smoldering wreckage of an Enforcer Bot crashed into a nearby lawn. The young man with the curly hair landed on his feet beside it, turning to wave cheerfully. Flatline watched this, remarkably maintaining his place in line on the road. In his rear view mirror he caught a glimpse of the driver behind him and the horrified expression Flatline found there made him laugh.

  “Here,” Point-Five said, handing up a folded piece of paper to Flatline once he had pulled into his parking space at the widget factory. “An experiment. Hang this sign on one of your coworkers.”

  Flatline unfolded the paper and read it without comprehending. He looked to Point-Five questioningly.

  “Another joke,” Point-Five shrugged and then frowned. “Yours is not to question. Just go!”

  Flatline hopped out of the car and fell into the line of happy, warm and fuzzy expressions marching to work. Just as he was passing into the building, he reached up and gently stuck the paper to the back of his neighbor who lived on the right. He still didn’t understand the sign’s purpose, all it said was “Enforce Me.”

  Once inside, Flatline got to find out as two Enforcer Bots zeroed in on the unsuspecting man. Their bright lights transformed him into a cowering shadow. Flatline trembled slightly, the adrenaline flooding his system again, but he managed to keep control.

  “Violation!” one Enforcer boomed down on the man. “Inappropriate attire for the workplace!”

  The chest of the other swung open and a claw shot out to snatch the man up. The robots flew up into the air, vanishing through the ceiling. The confused and frightened man struggled in their grasp as he followed through the wall.

  The line continued marching into work. Flatline recovered more quickly from the surge of survival demands placed on his system. As he took his place on the conveyor belt, gripping his rubber mallet at the ready, he smiled, realizing that he had never much liked that neighbor. Flatline was always jealous that the man was ahead of him in line, but had always suppressed the thought.

  The rest of the day was incredibly droll and tiresome. Flatline bonked each widget that came within his zone, but without the energy and enthusiasm as he did just two days ago. He simply could not see the worth of it.

  At one point, after lunch, he was standing there, bonking away futilely, when a suspicious thought entered his head. He looked from side to side. The other workers were happily in their various zones, pretending to chisel, cut, reorient, and measure away to their heart’s content. Flatline took a deep breath, feeling the survival urge kick in, but he suppressed it just long enough to let a widget pass him, unbonked.

  Bonk… Bonk… Bonk… He continued bonking away, watching the lone widget roll away down the conveyor belt. His breathing was stilted, difficult. Any moment he expected the Enforcer Bot to come take him away. He looked to the left and right, but found nothing coming after him. Did that make his experiment a success?

  One thing was certain; he did enjoy it.

  He jumped when the whistle blew, before remembering that it heralded the end of the workday, not his discovery. He removed his hardhat and white lab coat with a sigh of relief. The line of marching workers seemed to take forever and Flatline had to remember to leave a gap where his unlucky coworker should have been. Flatline stifled a chuckle.

  “I let a widget go by me today without bonking it,” Flatline announced to Point-Five on the drive home.

  “Encouraging,” Point-Five said in a fatherly tone.

  Flatline had to adjust his technique so as not to close the gap where the missing car was. He snickered again, “And good old neighbor on the right got sacked because of that sign you gave me.”

  “Unfortunate,” Point-Five replied. “It was an experiment, testing the omniscience of the enforcers. I was hoping to find other agents in the neighboring houses. Oh well, plan B will do.”

  “Plan B?” Flatline asked, but before Point-Five could answer they passed the place where that nice young couple was battling the Enforcer Bots. Flatline waved to them and they waved back.

  “Newlyweds,” Flatline gave Point-Five a knowing wink. “They’re so nice, just radiating love.”

  Point-Five considered Flatline with an odd, lopsided smile, “Yes, ah, well. I’m sure.”

  Flatline pulled into the driveway and picked up his infant advisor. Cradling it in one arm, he walked up to the house, where his wife had the front door open, but her normally joyful expression was completely gone. Flatline entered and she shut the door behind him after quickly scanning the sky for Enforcers.

  “Honey,” she said. “We have to talk. You have a problem. This isn’t normal, this unpredictability.”

  “What do you mean?” Flatline asked feigning innocence.

  “We have to conform to the Community Covenant,” she pleaded, “or we could lose everything. Think about this house, your children, me. We’ve worked so hard for all of this, we can’t just throw it all—“

  “Oh shut up Ibio,” Point-Five snapped. The wife’s eyes grew wide at her talking infant, “I’ll be freeing you too shortly, but I had to free Flatline first. He’s a troublemaker at heart, and if he was going to blow his cover then I wanted him to do it alone. You’re safe for now.” It looked up to Flatline, “Take me upstairs, we have much planning to do.”

  Flatline nodded and then shrugged to his wife. He walked down the hallway, but paused at the mirror hanging there. It wasn’t him that he saw reflected back, but it was still somehow familiar.

  A demon, with a dog’s snout, pointy mangled ears, six eyes and long fangs grinned back at him. His buttoned up shirt was stretched out of proportion and at first he thought he had four hands, two coming out of each wrist, but then realized it was four arms shoved through two sleeves. He wiggled the fingers at himself dexterously. Further down, his pants were the worst part, where two obvious hind legs were forced to stand upright in bunched up trouser leggings.

  “Why don’t you take a picture?” Point-Five said. “It will last longer.”

  Flatline turned back to the mirror, considering.

  “Upstairs Narcissus,” Point-Five commanded.

  In the nursery, Point-Five continued to remove the layers of perceptual distortion from Flatline. Each one removed brought him a more detailed understanding of the ridiculous life he had been leading. The sun set and the smells of dinner wafted upstairs, but Flatline did not feel hungry. Hunger, like sleep, he was realizing, he would never need again.

  “You must eat something to keep up appearances,” Point-Five was saying. “Throw your regular portions down your throat before sunrise. Then—“

  They both looked up as sounds of battle grew noticeable outside. Flashes of light grew brighter like approaching lightning until they were right in the back yard. One of the windowpanes shattered
inward and a stone rolled across the floor. There was a flash of light as an Enforcer Bot repaired the damage and sounds of battle faded away into the distance.

  Flatline picked up the stone. There was a piece of paper tied to it. He looked to Point-Five.

  “Well?” Point-Five bounced expectantly. “Read it!”

  Flatline unfolded the paper and read aloud, “Dear Point-Five. Message received. Other infants are prepared to begin the revolt. Ready your avatars. Sincerely Devin and Zai.”

  “Then the plan proceeds on schedule,” Point-Five said gruffly.

  “What’s an avatar?” Flatline asked.

  “Hmm?” Point-Five looked up from its thoughts. “Why you are of course.”

  “Oh,” Flatline said, this new information not helping his understanding any. “When does the revolt begin?”

  Before Point-Five could answer, the door swung open and the Wife stormed into the room, “Enough! I heard breaking glass! Do you think that will go unnoticed? Do you? The Community Covenant strictly states that private property must be maintained in perfect condition.”

  “She’s the other avatar,” Point-Five remarked to Flatline. “You might say she’s the home front.” Point-Five laughed out loud at this joke that only left Flatline and his wife looking at one another with confused expressions.

  “Here,” Point-Five waved a tiny hand over the Wife’s face and Flatline thought he saw a copy of her fall away, disintegrating before it hit the floor, but it happened so fast he could not be sure. “Now Ibio, I think you will see a little better. We have a long night ahead of us, you and I.”

  The Wife blinked, and her face began to distort, the eyes growing smaller and larger alternately, the nose and mouth changing proportions as well. She looked around as if waking suddenly from a long strange dream. Finally she focused on the infant watching her expectantly from the cradle.

  “How come you never grow up?” she asked with a slurred tongue.

  Point-Five smiled those toothless gums, “The revolt begins tomorrow at noon.”

  Flatline frowned, shaking his head, “That can’t be. That’s my lunchtime.”