The Time Tribulations

by Travis Borne

  “Well, it doesn’t seem that’ll do us much good,” Jon said, and turned to Jim whose eyes were floating in thought. “Unless, you would like to be a bot for a while? But they have their own minds, albeit lent, yet still—”

  “Felix,” Jim blurted. Ted raised one eyebrow.

  “Felix?” Jon wondered.

  “Marlo, would you put Felix Lopez on screen?” Jim asked. With a single flowing nod Marlo faded away. On screen appeared, Felix Lopez: Lender. Status: Deceased.

  “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen him,” Jon said, and he thought: Valerie’s father, and Rosita, Rosita’s death… “But, what? And why him?” There was still much Jon didn’t know about Jewel City, having been left on a mountaintop outside what was left of Socorro, New Mexico. “I met him in LA. He rode with us in the hover-jet—then we picked up Q and Lia, and you, Ted. We endured that disastrous world-wiping storm together, and then—”

  “Felix is alive,” Jim interrupted.

  “But I thought Marlo had said—”

  “Jon, he’s living inside a map called Old Town. And he’s Rico’s father. We met him not long ago, in fact. As Marlo had explained the other day, Felix had been put in charge of Jewel City. He perished years ago during an attack not dissimilar to the one we recently experienced, but somehow, the system captured his consciousness. Ted, maybe we can bring him out? Marlo?”

  “It’s been a long time,” Ted said, “just over fifteen years since I’d seen him in person. A good man, very brave. I know you had quite an experience with him, together with Rico.” He turned to Jon. “Felix assisted in getting us the code that saved us.” Ted touched his chin. “If we could, somehow, yes, we should.”

  “I believe we will be able to do just that,” Marlo confirmed.

  “That’s excellent, let’s do it,” Jim said. “I must admit I didn’t like Felix at first, but mostly because I’d thought he was a mere dream character. But he’d surely grown on me. And when I realized, upon activation of the code just beyond the stinky freezer, that he was in fact real, I liked him even more. We could really use a man like Felix here on the outside. If we’re to pull this off we could use some of that bravery, and his knowledge.”

  “Well,” said Marlo slowly, reappearing on another screen. He had rotated his position and the back of his castle could be seen, as well some lavish gardens, a fountain with a pissing statue, and the other moon, the rocky one. It was higher in the sky and appeared much smaller—but still larger than Earth’s moon, when it had one. “There are a few things to consider. First, we would need a bot, a fresh one, as I don’t speculate Felix would like being a builder—the only type we have here. Besides, the builders already have their own sense of self, they are, in a very real sense, alive with their own personalities. I do not believe it would be fair to steal a life in this manner, or use the bot’s vessel for your friend. However, we can if you deem it necessary.”

  Their countenances said, “I’m pondering that,” and deeply by the looks of it.

  Marlo continued, “Second, even if a bot was to offer oneself in this sacrificial manner, I don’t believe Felix would be happy actually existing in such a large and bulbous form—he might have trouble coping, perhaps. And he would not fit well inside this facility. I suggest, he would be happier with a form more similar to his human form. And that is if he agrees to the procedure at all.”

  “We could ask the builders,” Ted suggested. “The one with the least amount of runtime, perhaps.”

  “No, he’s right, Ted,” Jim said. “I agree with Marlo. But knowing Felix, well, there’s also the fact that Rosita resides inside the map with him. Would he, could he, leave his wife?”

  “I recall Rosita,” Jon admitted. “She died in the hover-jet after we’d escaped from LA, but Herald did something. Was he successful in transferring her consciousness into the map?” Jon recalled it very clearly now. Rosita’s death aboard the ship, and after she’d passed Herald declared that he had accomplished something special. He told Felix and Valerie that they would see Rosita again. He also realized on a tangent, that since Rico was Felix’s son as he’d just learned, well, he’d have to disclose to the both of them what had happened to Valerie, unless—

  “I surmise so,” Jim replied. “She was there with him, although seemingly...”

  “What, Jim?”

  “Ah, nothing. But anyway, I’m not confident he’ll leave her alone.”

  Marlo interjected, “Sirs, if we can find a bot for him, and one for her, he might not have to leave her behind.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, Jim,” Marlo replied, “the item Herald gave you is unlocked, at least the pith for our intents and purposes.”

  “Unlocked?” Ted inquired. He portrayed an overwhelming interest in all of this—as if just then all memories of his job antecedently, the day-in day-out data, had become a gray cloud that he’d escaped—and newfound purposes inherited a newfound sense of gratifying invigoration.

  “Ted, sir, the sphere is open source, at least the parts we need. I can duplicate it. We can manufacture more, many more—although I will need some materials, the nature of which we can discuss later. And Jon, your first idea, might be just what we need. You could sleep on the lending bed, and inside the dream world while lending, you would inhabit the body of a bot. You would in effect sense and experience what the bot does, wherever you go, whatever you choose to do—you will be the bot.”

  “But we don’t have enough bots, and we surely don’t have enough lenders,” Jim said. “How would this help us?”

  “Jim, use your imagination, think about the possibilities,” Marlo replied. He raised his staff, the universe spinning above it was beautiful, a coalescence of dark blues and purples with swirls of teal spiraling out like star-mottled solar flares. It contained glimmers of yellow suns and flashing neutron stars. “We will surely need an army for our mission, but you don’t have the necessary bots, that’s one thing. But what do you have enough of? If we can get the bots needed to make a formidable army…”

  Ted shook his head. Jon came up with a blank.

  Jim thought deeply. What is there a lot of, and why won’t Marlo just fucking say it? He thought about the town, the meager amount of people. Hardly any now. He thought about the dream worlds and his old adventures with Lion, the DCs they destroyed. He thought about Amy. He remembered his favorite and ultimately the last time with her. They’d floated into the sky with an incomprehensible feeling of orgasm, the colors, the tingling sensation, and how they passed it to the… Wait. She infected the dream characters with—the orgasm! The hundreds of thousands of dream characters. He exploded, “We have DCs! Hundreds, thousands, nearly unlimited and easily replaceable dream characters!” His enthusiasm imploded about as fast as it had exploded. “But, can they?”

  “I believe so, Jim,” Marlo confirmed. “Although it will take some time for me to create the interface. But yes, I do believe it to be possible.”

  “But we’d still need an army of bots,” Ted said.

  Jon replied, “And I know just where we might be able to get them.”

  Jim’s head floated on his shoulders. The three of them looked each other in the eyes. They’d all known, deep down, perhaps, that this really was suicide. But now there was a glint of hope, a sharp realization that maybe, just maybe, they actually could pull this thing off.

  21. The Other Side of the Bulge

  “The bunker, in Vallecito,” Jon said. “There could be hundreds of bots, all types. I was half dead but when I first came to, aboard the ship—” Jon pointed up, to outer space. “—Amy and I talked for quite a while. She mentioned her father left much behind. But—”

  “We can’t get there,” Jim said. “I was thinking the other towns but this is even better. We must make the trek, somehow.”

  “It’s at least 700 miles away,” Jon replied. “And nobody goes out there. Any that try perish.”

  “Could we, perhaps, repurpose one of the outer defense ships?
” Ted inquired.

  Marlo had taken a step closer, which made his head half as large as the wall-sized screen. He said, “Unfortunately I would not recommend we use the perimeter ships. We need each where they are. With even one missing our perimeter is highly compromised. We can lose one or two, temporarily, but not for any lengthy amount of time.” Marlo took over the HAT once again. The active dream maps faded. A display appeared showing the outer perimeter and the patterning ships encircling at high speeds. As an example, one ship was pulled from the perimeter and a statistical graph appeared floating above the city. Minus one ship, the perimeter would be 78% more likely to be compromised within a 24-hour period. Another ship departed the line. The remaining ships not only increased speed but wildly changed the patterning deviations of their flying algorithms. The graph flashed a red, UNSTABLE, and the display’s digits noted penetration inevitability within a 24-hour period. The example clearly showed—using the outer perimeter ships was out of the question. Marlo continued, “But, I do have some good news, although I am not informed as to how well it could work out.”

  The schematic of the great wall loaded once again and this time the highly detailed view panned to the other side of the facility, near the annihilated end of 3rd Street. Another vault made itself clear as Marlo maneuvered the view closer. It was roughly the same size as the secret area that’d housed the dormant builders.

  “Any other surprises to let us in on?” Jim asked, somewhat impatiently.

  “I’m sorry, Jim. Perhaps I’ve forgotten how to converse and strategize with real people, having been in a locked state for so many years. My instructions had always been clear but I find myself still latching on to my critical programing orders. This bunker contains a hover-jet and supplies. Rafael arrived in this and it has been locked away ever since. But unfortunately, I have no details of its functionality. It might, or might not function, and as well I do not believe it can survive outside the wall; the appearance denotes its defense capabilities are limited, and beyond our perimeter exists a formidable enemy that has only grown stronger since its day.”

  “Well,” Jon said, “only one way to find out. Can you please open the wall so we can take a look, Marlo?”

  Jim added, “And while you’re at it, buddy, are there any other surprises or hidden compartments you think we should know about?”

  “This is the last of the undisclosed areas that can be of use to you, Jim,” Marlo replied. “Although the wall is grand and the possibility for hidden areas unknown even to me, does remain.”

  “You are a puzzle, Marlo, kind of reminds me of someone,” Jim said. “Well, I guess we should head out and take a look. Shall we, Jon? Join us, Ted?”

  “I’ll stay here, you two head out. You know me, more data to crunch, especially with what we’ve just learned.”

  “Okay then,” Jim said, “let’s roll, Jon.”

  22. Birthday-Suit Tractor Beam

  Outside, just as before, but on the right, the inner wall beside the bulge started to open. The resounding crack caught the attention of a few builders repairing houses to their right. A huge fifty-foot-wide by twenty-foot-tall vertical section of the wall ejected outward, stopped, then began to slide upward, grindingly, revealing another large chamber. And inside, there it sat.

  Jon recognized it right off the bat. It looked exactly like the one he’d loaded and prepared with Herald, the day before it all began. He walked inside as if mesmerized by his memories. The grand ship was flat silver, not glossy as he remembered it. Running a hand gracefully along its sexy smooth hull revealed a layer of dust hiding its sheen, and the skin of the hover-jet changed color, still chameleon, still alive, mimicking Jon’s skin tone. It was only silver because it stole the gray color of the bay in which it resided. Its wings were folded back and it hardly fit into the space. And although it looked streamlined, Jon knew the inside was spacious, enough to transport at least six builders, plus twenty people (or two crates and half that)—as well as two lenders.

  Jim stepped forward. Rico arrived shortly after.

  “Jim,” Rico said. “Saw it on the cameras, what in the world—and this has been here the entire time?”

  “Morning, Rico,” Jim replied, “and yes, we’re learning exactly to what degree we’d been fucking sheep. Seems there was a lot hidden right under our sniffers. Our town wizard finally decided to let us in on things.”

  They walked around the craft, slowly, touching its dusty body. The dust came off with the slightest motion of their hands as if the surface was waxed and electrostatic. It felt like charged plastic, static to the touch, smooth as glass. The stale air regained a natural turbulence from the outside, but it was enough. The dust fell as if the ship’s hull was repelling it, and once again the hover-jet took on a glossy, brand-spanking-new appearance.

  Jon found himself at the rear, as though he knew exactly where and how to enter. The ramp, its only entrance, however, was sealed and locked. And the nearly seamless shell had no buttons, control panels, or handles.

  Jim took an hands-on-hips stance next to his bud, Rico—lunch was beckoning and his stomach rumbled slightly. He proceeded to let Rico in on what they’d discussed over the course of the morning with Marlo: ONE, the sphere Herald had given him could contain a consciousness; TWO, a person could log in and become the bot it was inserted into—possibly DCs as well, they could control a bot here in the physical world—as odd as that sounds; THREE, Marlo said he could reproduce the pith—whatever the fuck that meant—of the sphere in mass quantities because it was, unlocked or, open-source; and FOUR, they needed to find bots to assemble an army, and, Jon said he knew exactly where many were, hundreds, possibly more: Vallecito, Colorado, Herald’s massive bunker.

  “Well, bad news,” Jon said, walking back to the front. “We can’t get in. It’s likely, just as plentiful technologies of the early Twenties had become, DNA responsive, meaning, it activates in the presence of a programmed user. And that includes, none of us. And furthermore, I can attest, this thing is nearly impenetrable.”

  “Another dead end,” Jim said. “No wonder Marlo didn’t tell us. Smart nerd of a wizard trying to save us time. Here we are bouncing around like meatheads.”

  “Well, who is the programmed user?” Rico asked inquisitively.

  “Rafael, should be, but he’s long since gone,” Jim replied, shaking his head with an ever-flattening smile.

  Rico lowered his noggin and touched his mouth. “Rafael,” he said questioningly, and paused in thought. “Jim, Nelman said he used to be someone named Rafael. Perhaps—”

  “I saw Nelman get obliterated, Rico. A mower drone came down on him, blended him to chunks. Tore me up inside when it happened, he was a good man—I mean, bot. He saved Amy. Maybe Marlo can use his fucking wand on the scrap pile—the one that had gotten smashed into one of the new wall blocks. We’ll just order the builders to uncrush the shit.”

  “Jim,” Jon alerted. “The pieces, could we use the small part that—”

  “Doubt it,” Jim said. “But I see where you’re going. When I said mower, Jon, I mean mower from motherfuckin’ hell. The damn thing sucked him up. Really, man, there is nothing left.”

  “Gotta be a way,” Jon said.

  “Even if we do get in,” Jim said, “Marlo said it wouldn’t survive on the outside.” He turned to Rico. “You saw those swarms, nothing can—” Jim held his breath and paced back and forth two times; he was getting red. “—and what, if we could, just get in the fucking thing and fly—shit, man. This ain’t some sort of fuckin’ science-fiction movie where—”

  Rico interrupted before Jim’s pessimism fully crossed onto the other side of the line. “We have to try, right? Jim, what good will anything be if we don’t at least try. Logging in with Marlo tomorrow to discuss options—that’ll be purposeless too. Think, we have to think, there’s always a way.”

  “You’re right, Rico,” Jim replied with a tired sigh. He looked around. The large hanger of a room was devoid of anything b
ut the ship, that and a fine layer of nose-molesting, twenty-year-old dust. Above were grated vents capping brightly lit tunnels similar to what they’d seen ascending the wall months earlier with Amy and the top lenders. The same odd metallic smell lingered, like burnt electronics or tires—or Bertha’s burnt potato wedges and some plastic. But…to the far right Jim made out what looked to be a workshop area behind a glass partition. His feet carried him a few steps and he made out assorted tool boxes, metal cabinets, and what looked like over-sized high-school lockers. He slogged a few more, curious steps. There were tools hanging and assorted parts thrown about, and a large metal workbench. On it sat what appeared to be a ball under a sheet. He could only see it vaguely because the glare from the shiny tower currently being constructed outside said, “you need sunglasses, dude,” that and the lights were off inside, but it was enough to lure him closer. Jim tilted his head and left the two optimistic thinkers as if he was being called over by Amanda, who never wore underwear, and Kim in her birthday suit, and neither of them were wearing as much as a thread—and damn if he didn’t—but...

  He gravitated toward the room as if getting sucked—birthday-suit tractor beam, imagination on roids—and entered through the glass door and flipped on the lights. Then he saw more clearly. The sheet was a layer of semi-clear plastic covering it. He yelled, “Jon!”

  23. The Head

  Still captivated by the ship, Jon and Rico jolted as if fireworks had exploded at the back of their necks. Jim’s yell was Bertha’s train horn compressed into a half second.