Timtown

“I wanted this,” Arty said defensively

  “What for? Why not fix your body?”

  “It was useless, it had been for a long time,” Arty said quietly.

  “But making a freak out of yourself? I was hurt too, and I’m pretty sure that I was dead, but I’m the same. Mr. V fixed me up without throwing part of me away,” Tim countered.

  “Think so?” Arty shot back fast.

  “What do you mean by that?” Tim asked, but now he had a defensive tone.

  “Do you think you’re the same as before?” Arty made it a statement, rather than a question.

  “Hell yes, don’t you think I’d know if I was—” Tim stopped, now uncertain. “Mr. V, have you been listening to this?”

  “I listen to everything, you know that,” Mr. V returned.

  “Okay, okay, I don’t need a history lesson,” Tim said impatiently. “How did you fix me?” Tim asked with a slight apprehension in his voice.

  “So you would live again,” the computer replied.

  Tim took a deep breath and looked around, hesitating. “I’m not all real then?” He finally managed to get the question out.

  “You’re real. The part that makes you Tim is still exactly the same.”

  “I mean, is my body the same as it was before I got shot?”

  “No.”

  “Oh god!” There was anguish in Tim’s voice. “Do you know that I ‘murdered’, I think, maybe eight people today? I was trying to figure out how I could do something like that, and now you tell me I’m, ah I’m—I’ve got different parts in me. Is that correct?”

  “The parts I used to make you live again had nothing to do with your actions today, or yesterday, or in the days to come. The parts simply perform a function. Your heart and a few critical organs and glands were destroyed by the projectiles. I simply replaced what was destroyed. I did the exact same thing with your brother.”

  “Why couldn’t you repair the old stuff?” Tim whined.

  “Not possible.”

  “What about the body you use sometimes?”

  “It looks real, but so did Deputy Dog.”

  “Oh geez! What next?” Tim turned to Arty. “But why did you have to do this? He could have made a duplicate of your body, correct?”

  “Yeah, but I learned to hate my body. It kept me from doing things for so long, I won’t miss it.” Arty still wanted Tim to understand his decision.

  “But you’re a freak! People are going to look at you, I can guarantee that. They are not going to treat you normal, I can also guarantee it.”

  “I’m not interested in being normal,” explained Arty. “I haven’t been a normal person for years now. I would lay in that bed and dream and dream of being my old self again, like I was before the crash. I thought about it so much at first. For a while it helped, you know, it helped to think about walking again. It gave me hope, and I hoped the doctors would perform a miracle. After a while I knew there would be no miracle, and the dreams didn’t do any good anymore. Then I grew to hate my withered body. Can you understand how a person could learn to hate something that caused them so much despair? With this,” Arty looked down at his mechanical body, “all my dreams are real, and all my hates are gone.”

  “Besides, is the world normal anymore?” Arty continued. “Is this what you would refer to as normal?” Arty swung one of his mechanical arms around to indicate where they were.

  “No, I guess not, but why no legs?” Tim had conceded.

  “They get in the way. I can move five times faster, I’m smaller. My new arms and hands are a lot stronger, quicker, and more precise. Besides, I can switch to a normal appearing body quite easily, if we decide to go out for lunch.”

  “No, if we go to lunch, I’ll just put a leash on you,” Tim laughed a little.

  “Oh, could you imagine!” Arty laughed.

  Arty then went into demonstrating and explaining his new body. All that remained of him was his head and seven vertebrae below the brain stem. The cylinder performed all the functions necessary to keep his brain and head alive. He did not need food, produced no waste, and needed just a little amount of sleep.

  It all sounded so good the way Arty explained it all. One thing was bothering Tim though. He remembered when he was dying, the euphoria of a body free state. He voiced his concern to Arty.

  Arty tried to convince Tim he could still think normally, but Tim was still not comfortable with the statement.

  “Understand, I just wanted you to be like the old Arty again, and I still think this constitutes a freak; an out of this world, flashy tin can, just so you can zip around faster than anyone else, probably invulnerable, and armed to the teeth. Am I right?”

  “You need a strong leader.”

  “Who put you in charge?” Tim asked surprised.

  “It would be for the best, I think?” Arty said calmly.

  “Hey, wait a short minute here. I’ve done pretty well so far, besides, Mr. V might have something to say about this?”

  “He thinks it’s for the best too,” Arty countered quickly.

  “You’ve conferred with him on this, then?” Tim was angry; the tone of his voice indicated it.

  “Yes, a bit. Look, Tim, I have more leadership experience, and we think it would be for the best.”

  “You think!” Now Tim sounded really annoyed. “The best for what, or rather for who? What the hell’s going on Arty?”

  “I don’t get your meaning?” Arty was trying to calm Tim.

  “In less than one month my whole world has disappeared. Mom’s dead, our house is gone, all the people I knew, gone, except for you and Ann. People are killing each other for sport.” Tim paused, and took a deep breath. “Do you know what happened to Ann? If you could have been there and saw what one human can do to the other.” The vision was clear to Tim. He let out a sigh and paused to regain his thoughts. “Arty, do you know how many people I’ve killed since all this started?” He was now calmer and the question came out strong and unhurried.

  “You did what you had to,” Arty commented.

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, to get this far, you had to.”

  “But, why did I ‘have’ to?”

  “What was the reason you killed the first time?” Arty asked.

  Tim though about it carefully, wanting to be totally honest. “To save Ann, I guess.”

  “Wasn’t that a good reason? If you hadn’t, what would have happened to her?”

  “What’s become of her anyway? She’s not the same person. I get the feeling she resents me for helping,” Tim lamented.

  “For the time being you’ll have to accept the fact she’s trying to forget the horrors, and you just remind her of them.”

  “I do not; I never say a word about anything that’s happened.”

  “Your presence is reminder enough. Give her time, and the scars will heal. Every person that goes through something like she has, has an adjustment to make. The trauma has changed their lives. What they were accustomed to has been broken, severely, and often violently. Things that were enjoyable and comfortable are taken away. That’s the difficulty in adjusting. You, me, Ann, and everyone else in this refuge have been thrown into a totally new situation with nothing of the past to hang on to. It will take time; look how well you’re doing.”

  “If I’m doing so well, how come the big spiel, and why do you think you need to take charge?” Tim asked with a snooty tone.

  “This is not a pep talk, just the facts. No one could have done any better, believe me. And I don’t need to take charge because you can handle the situation very well, you’ve proved that. It’s just that, number one: I have more leadership experience, and two, you should concentrate on some important things, like Ann, and being a kid just a little bit longer, and three, I don’t have anything else to do. In all the years I was a non-person, I never established any relationships. I am basically alone, you’re not. You don’t want to be like me,” Arty explained. “Incidentally, I’m extremely proud of you.?
??

  “I guess I’ve held up pretty well. It’s just the future scares me. Realizing that I won’t be able to continue from where I left off. When the ground was shaking and I was bouncing around it was a thrill. I was scared, but I told myself, ‘when it’s over, no sweat’, but now I realize that it will never be over. It has come too far.”

  “It may go a lot farther,” Arty stated.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know Mr. V has informed you there is a major geological shift underway. This thing is far from over, and I’m better prepared to make decisions. You know that Tim.”

  “I don’t want to discuss it now, okay?”

  Tim had an uneasy feeling about what was in store. As he walked to the living quarters he thought about the command sequence Mr. V had explained to him. He was tempted to talk to Mr. V, but decided not to. It could wait because there was no rush. It pissed him off that Arty had decided, on his own, to supersede him.

  If it hadn’t been for me, Arty would be dead! The thought startled him. He had been so excited about helping Arty, but now he was mad at him. Things were very confusing. The killing of the people today was still troubling him because he had gone on a rampage. I could have just scared them off, but they would have hurt someone else, so I had to kill them, didn’t I? Yes, no? Shit!” he exclaimed to himself. “Now Arty has to go and do this weird shit.”

  *

  Tim entered the living quarters and stood back in surprise. The new inhabitants had transformed it into a home. A large table floated in the middle of the space with the children all gathered around playing a game. Numerous couch and chair like objects were strategically arranged. Many plants and small trees in large pots were situated around the quarters breaking up the monotony. It looked good. The adults were seated all around, and looked content.

  After all the hassles of the past weeks, this certainly must be pleasant for them.

  Sims saw Tim, and got up to greet him.

  “What do you think?” Sims asked.

  “How did you manage all this? I’m the only one that has access to the computer. I hope you didn’t take the liberty of—”

  “I did it.” Arty had just entered the living quarters behind him.

  “Oh, that’s okay then,” Tim said sarcastically and then headed over to the counsel to produce a beer.

  Tim watched the children rush to Arty. They surrounded him, jumping with glee. Arty took them two at a time in his mechanical arms and gave them fast rides around the quarters.

  After he had taken all the children for rides he floated over to Tim.

  “A little young for that,” Arty commented to Tim.

  “Arty, I’m forty already,” Tim replied.

  “Sixteen to forty in just weeks. I guess that’s reason enough to drink a little. About the computer—” Arty wanted to explain.

  “Hey, no sweat, just make yourself at home,” Tim snapped.

  “Look, if you want to stay here and tend to the needs of your charges, fine, but what if something happens to you on one of your little escapades? I suppose it’s okay to leave everyone to starve,” Arty said sternly.

  “That’s not what I mean!” Tim looked directly at Arty as he spoke.

  “What’s troubling you then?” Arty asked while picking up a small child that had walked up to him.

  “Arty, I don’t know these people. The wrong person gets into that computer?” Tim said it as a supposition. “It’s dangerous, I’m sure you realize that!”

  “I do, and maybe I am the wrong person. Is that your problem?” Arty said not looking at Tim, but playing with the child.

  “Well, it’s too late to worry about it now!”

  Arty looked directly at Tim. “So it is Little Brother, so it is.”

  Tim spotted Margie headed his way. “Oh, oh, here comes trouble,” Tim said, thankful for the distraction because Arty’s smug comment had upset him, but he didn’t want him to know it. Margie was definitely zeroing in on him. The way she was dressed and the way she was walking it looked as if she was interested in more than just talk.

  Arty was watching her as she approached and commented to Tim. “Drinking and now this, what’s happening to you?”

  “You mean, what’s going to happen to me, don’t you?” Tim said jokingly and he raised his eyebrows.

  “It might be good for you. Make you forget your problems, make you ease up a little.” Arty said kindly.

  “Hi Hero.” Margie’s voice was cheery. She nuzzled up to Tim and gave him a wet kiss on the cheek.

  “How’s it going Clank?” she said to Arty. Tim looked quickly at Arty for a reaction and saw nothing but a solid smile.

  “Careful with the beer, Hero Baby, we’ve got a lot of exploring to do. You promised to show me this place and there’s no better time than the present.” She pressed tight against him, and he could feel the curves of her body.

  “What would Mom say?” Arty said with a smile as he turned away.

  *

  Tim was in the control room the next morning. He had been aware of many tremors during the night and they were almost continual the last hour or so. The base’s monitor had registered well over six hundred in the last twelve hours. He was searching a hologram for some answers to what was happening on the outside.

  “Checking the morning news?” Arty had entered.

  “Sure lots of shaking going out on there,” Tim said.

  “I’m afraid it’s a lot worse than that, the fault is pulling apart. The Pacific plate is pulling away from the North American plate,” Arty said factually.

  “Mr. V said that might happen, but I was under the impression it would be sometime yet,” Tim said.

  “It seems to be underway right now. There’s no way to predict something like that. Even Mr. V can be surprised,” Arty said. “But, I’m the one that’s really surprised.

  “Why’s that?” Tim asked.

  “I thought those sort of things happened over millions and millions of years, but according to Mr. V, the area is splitting in half, and Mountain Cove is moving northward at two hundred feet an hour.”

  “Yeah, Mr. V told me about it. He called it gradual and catastrophic geology. According to him, the Rocky Mountains were formed in a matter of weeks. The Earth sits fairly stable for long periods while the stress builds up, then wham, one event weakens everything and the crust becomes unstable. It’s happened many times before; there was just no one around to bitch about it.”

  “Except Mr. V,” Arty added, “but he has nothing to worry about, he says this place is safe no matter what happens.”

  “Say you know I haven’t talked to him today. He’s probably wondering why.” Tim was curious about what Arty had been up to so the uneasy feeling would not go away.

  Arty said nothing; he was engrossed in something in a complicated hologram he had produced. It was time to go to the Secret Place Tim decided. I’ve been kind of apprehensive about the molecular dissimulation thing so I’ve been putting it off. I’m not scared, but the thought of my body being broken into little pieces and then transported someplace is a little unsettling, but now I need privacy and the Number One thing seems perfect.

  “Yo, Mr. V, Tim here, haven’t talked to you in a while.”

  “You’re much too busy for old friends.”

  “Not really busy, I’m just trying to figure out a few things.”

  “Good for you. Taking care of yourself is important. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Yes, I want to go home.”

  “Ah yes, you do qualify.”

  Tim felt a sudden buzzing in his entire body, then his vision started to blur and his ears started ringing. In a matter of two-seconds his entire surroundings were blotted out. He remained in this state for about five more seconds and then the process reversed itself.

  *

  “Where am I? Mr. V, you still here?” he asked as he looked around at his new surroundings. He was standing in a white void.

  “Shit, I knew
it! Goddamn, the thing screwed up,” Tim jabbered to himself. “Mr. Vhhhheeee!” Tim yelled.

  “Et ze atek utalir on mitizeke dugl suf,” a strange voice said.

  Tim was startled by the voice, but just because he wasn’t expecting this strange tongue. The speech was not harsh, but in an unfamiliar tone and form. It had the sound of someone talking from the back of their nose and the form was short and blocky.

  “Huh?” was his only comment.

  “Et zebel duglde sok.”

  “I don’t understand you.” Tim responded. “Who are you?”

  “I lp sobol tur tu et.”

  “Helloooo, my name is ‘Tim’, do you understand me?” I hope that’s not a stupid question. “I am ‘Tim’.”

  “I gadteko set do ‘Tim’.” The new voice emphasized Tim, so there was some recognition there.

  “Yeah, I ‘Tim’.”

  “Desligt, I ‘Et’.”

  “Yes, I ‘Tim’, you ‘Et’.” Tim was proud of himself, it registered in his voice.

  “Tim cadalsees da ca to.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Tim cadalsees.”

  “I don’t know, ahum, I’m sorry, I didn’t know anybody would be here. Mr. V, he sent me here.”

  “Tosouk Mr. V.”

  I’m sure that was a question. “Mr. V, he runs this place. He’s the central computer. I was supposed to come to the ‘Number One’s’ place.” Tim held up one finger.

  “Hadtickta, Number One.” As the voice spoke, a large straight line appeared in front of Tim in the fabric of the white surrounding him.

  “Yeah, that’s a one.”

  “Aytus hu.” Another line appeared next to the first one.

  “Yeah, that’s two.” Tim pointed to the second line. They were so close together he wasn’t sure if he had made an impression.

  The second line disappeared. “Number One”!” the voice stated.

  “Yeah, yeah, hot damn, we’re getting someplace now. I’m ‘Number One’!” Tim said excitedly as he pointed to himself with one finger. Then he held the finger up and repeated, “‘Number One’! I ‘Tim’, I ‘Number One’.”

  “Tassaas ‘Tim’, Gadseesa fot dit to Et. Tim ‘Number One’, I Et.”

  “Ooooh boy!” Tim said out of frustration. “This is going to be a long one, I can see it coming.”

  The voice didn’t return for half a minute or so. Tim didn’t know what else to do so he just silently waited.

  “Number One—youll—aret,” the voice said finally. There were long hesitations between the crudely formed words.