Older-Art climbed off the ladder and into the hallway. Drillbot swung from his perch and landed next to Older-Art. “Nearly there,” said Older-Art. He grabbed Drillbot by the drill and led him down this corridor for a few moments. They turned another corner and arrived at an intersection of three hallways, one of which was short and narrow. Drillbot realized the short and narrow hallway was the first one they had attempted to use, because as he zoomed in his telescopic eyes to see way back near its origin, he saw a Drillbot-shaped dent at its entrance and wheel-dagger-shaped scrapes in its walls.
“We’re here,” said Older-Art as the pair stood before a closed, black door just beyond the intersection of hallways. Above it in green letters was written: Holo-Scouting Deck.
Before Drillbot had the opportunity to question what that phrase meant, Older-Art leaned against the license-scanner to the right of the closed door. It chirped in response, turned green, and then the black door zoomed up into the ceiling.
As they passed through the door, they entered a room with a single, small lightbulb hanging down on a cord from above. The walls, ceiling, and floor were stark black with a grid-pattern of shining silver painted across them. When the door shut behind Drillbot and Older-Art, the robot experienced the sensation of both infinite space and claustrophobic confinement.
“[whir] What is this place?” asked the robot.
“The crew uses this room to scout the locations of future missions,” said Older-Art. “The room retrieves a juncture in space and time. This allows the Purple Shirts to provide a recommendation on when and where the Landing Crew should appear within the timestream of whatever reality they’re intending to interfere with. Years and years ago, when I was first forced aboard this ship, I used this room to look back at my couch and remember how much I desperately wanted to be there. Today, we can use it to bring to us your lost love.”
“[whir] So how does Drillbot make it – CLACK – make it work?”
“Just say ‘Sprinkle Buns,’ and then the time, date, earth number, latitude, and longitude that you want to see,” replied Older-Art.
“[whir] Sprinkle Buns? Drillbot does not – CLACK – does not understand.”
Older-Art sighed. He said, “Yet again, here comes some information clogging my brain that I would rather devote to literally anything else: The first captain of this ship came from a family that operated a unicorn-dairy farm. They sold the milk across the Multiverse. Sprinkle Buns was the name of that captain’s favorite unicorn. He named the ship’s computer after her, and he named the entire ship in honor of his family’s profession—a Unicorn Husker is apparently the colloquial term for a unicorn-dairy farmer. From what I understand about the process, unicorn nipples have husks that you have to yank off before they’ll release any milk. People who do so for a living develop ridiculously huge forearms. The first captain is pretty easy to spot back in the Captain’s Ring because his forearms are the size of a—”
Drillbot could wait no longer, so he interrupted Older-Art by calling out the computer’s name, followed by the time, date, earth number, latitude, and longitude of the first time he met Ginny Rex. The silver stripes on the wall began vibrating, and then large wave patterns began flowing across them. It seemed as though the room was thrashing and rotating and bouncing. Pixels began floating from the black paint on the walls and filling the room. If Drillbot could become dizzy, he would have needed to shut his eyes at this moment to prevent nausea. But Drillbot was not capable of becoming dizzy, so he watched the change in scenery with awe. Older-Art, however, was absolutely capable of the sensation, so the shifting scene and floating pixels overwhelmed his senses. He began heaving his breakfast onto the floor, and then he collapsed. Drillbot caught him before he hit the ground.
A few seconds later, Drillbot found himself standing in a familiar jungle. The sun had set, and the moon’s light bounced off the surrounding leaves, creating a subdued tint to the vibrant jungle colors. Drillbot smiled his version of a smile, which manifested as his mouth-speaker vibrating on a nearly microscopic level, his telescopic eyes retracting about an inch inside his head, and the three radar dishes on the top left side of his head spinning slowly counterclockwise rather than clockwise.
Older-Art frowned and said, “I forgot to warn you about the shift. You need to close your eyes, or it causes severe nausea and dizziness. Forgot to shut my own eyes if it makes you feel any better.”
Drillbot did not reply, instead setting Older-Art upon his feet. The man stood in place and put his hand on Drillbot’s shoulder for balance. “You know where we are?” asked Older-Art.
Drillbot did not respond with words. Instead, he rolled forward. He passed between a pair of gigantic tree trunks and came to a familiar hill. He gasped when he looked up at its top.
Drillbot saw a still image from a moment in his past, only he was outside his body. At the crest of the hill stood a mirror image of Drillbot with a smitten look on his face—an expression that manifested itself through his eyes telescoping outward. Drillbot smiled his version of a smile, remembering this moment and its significance in his life as the first time he had ever felt attraction. However, he then smirked his version of a smirk, for he had not realized before witnessing the moment from this vantage how obvious he had been about his emotions—for his past-self’s eyes were telescoped nearly a foot out of his face. Next to Drillbot floated the blue bear. The bear was missing the lower half of his body, and blue mist floated around him. His snout lay curled upward in a smile, and his pink teeth gleamed in the dim light.
A shadow lay across the Drillbot at the top of the hill, originating from the fearsome tyrannosaur towering above him. Drillbot smiled when he looked at her. Ginny Rex, his one and only love. Her dirty blonde hair—short in the front and long in the back—hung below the crown of fangs that sat atop her head. The spikes on her jacket danced in the dark hues of the moonlight. Her tail stretched out long and stiff behind her. Slaver was dripping from her sharp, dagger-like teeth. Artkylosaur, her runty little ankylosaur valet, sat atop the saddle on her back, chomping down on his cigar and ready to fire the rocket launchers mounted to her sides if such an outcome was deemed necessary.
Drillbot raced up the hill. Older-Art called out something behind him, but Drillbot did not listen. Drillbot reached the feet of his lost love. He stared at the three ferocious toes on each of her feet and wanted nothing more than to massage the bottoms of those feet one more time.
Older-Art caught up to Drillbot. He stared up at Ginny Rex’s terrifying visage. “That’s her?” he asked.
“[whir] Yes.”
Older-Art smirked. “She must have a dazzling personality.”
“[whir] The best. Isn’t she – CLACK – isn’t she the most beautiful creature you have ever seen?”
Older-Art frowned. “Sure, let’s go with that.”
Drillbot reached out his right drill and attempted to stroke Ginny Rex’s face. But her skin felt limp and lifeless. He prodded it with his drill, and the drill passed through her. He pulled it out of her, and her skin popped back into place. Drillbot placed the end of his drill in her hand and pulled it down to his side to hold, but a flash of light erupted from her arm and it disappeared in a blurry wobble, reappearing back where it was before he grabbed it.
Drillbot frowned his version of a frown—his mouth-speaker retracting slightly, his telescopic eyes vibrating, and his radar dishes wobbling to-and-fro. He spoke with a trembling voice, “[whir] What is this? Why can Drillbot not – CLACK – not interact with her?”
Older-Art frowned even harder. “Sorry, old friend. This place is designed for scouting purposes. You can see anything at a single point in the Space-Time-Multinuum, but you can’t change anything. You either pass through anything you touch too hard or try to move, or else it immediately reverts back to its condition right before you touched it—y’know, exactly where it was at the time and location that you ordered the computer to show you.”
Drillbot wailed. “[whir] Why did y
ou bring Drillbot here? This is torture.”
“I thought it might make you happy if you could at least see her.”
Drillbot’s radar dishes wobbled harder, his telescopic eyes vibrated faster, and his mouth-speaker retracted farther. His voice trembled even harder as he said, “[whir] No. This is even worse – CLACK – worse than before. At least in memories, Drillbot was not merely a – CLACK – not merely a voyeur. Drillbot could interact with her.”
Drillbot stared longingly at Ginny Rex’s dagger-like fangs and reptilian eyes and flared nostrils. He wanted to hear her voice so badly that every gear in his body hurt. Seeing her again without being able to feel her alive in his arms was agony. He dropped his arms to his sides. “[whir] Get Drillbot out of here.”
Older-Art called out to the sky, “Sprinkle Buns, deactivate scenario.”
The lush vegetation and the multitude of Arts and Ginnys in the forest around the duo melted and the pixels floated back into the walls. Ginny Rex and Artkylosaur and the blue bear and past-Drillbot all collapsed into pixelated fragments that disappeared back into the walls. The hill upon which they were standing melted back into the floor.
Older-Art put a hand on Drillbot’s shoulder. He said, “I’m sorry. I thought you would get some pleasure from this.”
Drillbot said nothing in return. Older-Art led him to the door, and they exited. Older-Art brought Drillbot back to the robot’s room. Silence hung over the journey, a fog of sullen quiet into which Older-Art’s sighs and grunts and apologies disappeared with no response from the robot.
When they reached Drillbot’s room, Drillbot entered and shut the door behind him without inviting Older-Art in. Drillbot could hear Older-Art standing outside the door, his heart beating lonely thumps. Older-Art muttered another apology, and then he walked away.
*
Drillbot avoided Older-Art after that experience, doing so by staying in his room and losing himself once more in his memories of Ginny Rex. He did not answer the multitude of knocks on his door that came over the following days. Finally, one morning arrived in which knocks came and would not desist, no matter how many times Drillbot yelled for whoever was without to go away.
He slowly rolled over to the door and opened it. Ginny stood on the threshold of his room. When she pursed her lips, the gap between her front teeth was visible. It looked gigantic, and Drillbot wondered how much of one of his drills he could pass through it without touching either of her front teeth. “I think you’ve been avoiding me,” she said.
Drillbot did not respond. She was correct. He had been actively staying as far away from her as possible, because when he was in her presence, he needed to suppress his rage and his desire for vengeance lest he rip her apart.
When Drillbot did not respond, Ginny said, “Can’t say I wasn’t doing the same. But unless you’re going to kill me to prevent it from happening, we’re going to have to speak to each other sooner or later. So, I think we should get it over with and have a conversation before we’re forced to work together on whatever mysterious mission the B.T.T. is planning to send us on. That work for you?”
Drillbot’s drills activated as the sight of this woman filled him with rage. She stared at him with neither anger nor hatred, but rather acquiescence. She nodded and said, “I’m not going to try and stop you if that’s what you want to do. Can’t say I don’t deserve it. But I would rather you didn’t.”
Ginny ran her fingers through her hair and glanced at her own feet. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. She said, “Robot, please hear me out. If you decide to kill me afterward, I won’t blame you, and I won’t put up a fight.”
Drillbot stood where he was, his drills continuing to spin.
“I know you despise me,” she continued. “I despise me, too. I will never expect to be forgiven for what I did. And I would never ask for your forgiveness. But I want you to know that I am sorry. I was possessed by a power far greater than I could control. And now that I am free of that power and can think for myself, I would trade places with the one I took from you if I could.”
Drillbot stopped his drills. He rolled forward. “[whir] Come with – CLACK – with Drillbot.”
Drillbot led her toward a nearby elevator bank. An elevator arrived, and he cut to the front of the line. He ignored the protests of the queued Purple Shirts. “[whir] Ginny has no idea how – CLACK – how Drillbot feels. Ginny took from Drillbot the thing he cared about more than – CLACK – more than anything else.”
Ginny pushed her way onto the elevator behind him. He slammed the point of his drill into the button for the tenth deck. The button smashed and cracked in half but lit up all the same. The Purple Shirts on the elevator gasped. The elevator jerked into motion.
When the elevator opened on the tenth deck, Drillbot exited. Ginny followed behind. He led her to the Holo-Scouting Deck in silence, following the path that Older-Art had laid out for him. Once inside, he called out orders to Sprinkle Buns.
Pixels flared out from the walls. Ginny leaned over and began heaving. Drillbot held her steady to prevent her from falling.
When the three-dimensional point in time was finally done forming, Drillbot fought every instinct inside him. The Holo-Scouting Deck had formed into the moment in time over a decade ago when Ginny had permanently murdered Ginny Rex. Drillbot wanted to rip Ginny apart, but he held himself in check. He needed Ginny to experience this moment unencumbered by the Pink One. And he needed to see beyond her apologetic words, since they could easily be rehearsed or faked. He needed to see how she reacted when forced to confront what she had done. He would then allow his processors to analyze her emotions and determine whether mercy was the correct choice for her.
Ginny stared at the images in front of her with an expression mired in disgust and shame. Ginny’s past-self was floating within her kaiju-sized pink blob, holding aloft a B.I.T. tank that she was firing into the resurrected half of Ginny Rex—the half to which the dinosaur’s head was attached. This was an action that caused the permanent death of the tyrannosaur. Though she was in the process of being eradicated, Ginny Rex was staring at the image of past-Drillbot and mouthing something to him.
Ginny began sobbing. “What did the tyrannosaur say to you?”
Drillbot moaned. Then he said, “[whir] Because she did not make a sound and Drillbot had only her lips to read, it is hard to – CLACK – hard to tell for certain. Using deduction, Drillbot has narrowed it down to either ‘I love you’ or ‘Elephant,’ with an 85% likelihood that – CLACK – that it was ‘I love you.’”
Ginny stared at him. “How can you not be 100% certain that it was ‘I love you?’ That seems pretty obvious.”
Drillbot moaned again. “[whir] Because she – CLACK – Because she liked elephants. A lot.”
Ginny glanced at her feet. She sobbed harder than ever into her hands. “I am so, so sorry.”
Drillbot nodded. “[whir] Drillbot understands the logic that you were a puppet of the cosmic pink monster and that you had – CLACK – you had no choice in your actions. But the parts of Drillbot’s processors that are not governed by logic are – CLACK – are filled with rage. Drillbot needs you – CLACK – needs you to see and understand what he sees every time he looks at you. Drillbot needs Ginny to understand how hard he must fight not – CLACK CLACK CLACK – not to kill Ginny when he is near her.”
Ginny sobbed and said, “Oh, Drillbot. I see this in my mind’s eye every time I look at you, too. And I feel shame and regret. Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of the terrible acts I performed, and I relive them in my head over and over and over. Even when I sleep, I can’t escape what I did. The Pink One invades my dreams every night. If you think I am not scarred by my service to that beast, you are wrong. If you think I do not wish to change every choice I made over the past two decades, you are wrong. But I can’t, and I will carry the shame with me for the rest of my existence.”
Drillbot allowed his processors to go to work. He studied her face and her body
language. He analyzed the chemical composition of the scents that her body subconsciously released and the tempo of her heartbeat. Something within his emotional processors clicked into place, and though he still felt rage over Ginny Rex’s death, the hatred for the Ginny before him flushed from his systems. Just in case there came a time when he could not control his rage, he placed an internal, password-protected override order in his systems to shut down his drills if he intended to use them on Ginny.
He nodded once more and said, “[whir] Drillbot knows. Drillbot has used his emotional profiling systems to evaluate your – CLACK – your reactions when faced with your most horrific deed, and he judges your remorse to be true. Drillbot can never forgive the Pink One, but Drillbot forgives – CLACK – forgives Ginny. Drillbot will do his best to restrain – CLACK – to restrain the urge to kill Ginny, but he can make no – CLACK – make no promises.”
Ginny frowned. “I didn’t ask for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. I was a puppet and I felt only hatred for a decade. But I had a choice. I was selfish, and I picked the safety of my own earth above the rest of the Multiverse. Above your love.”
Drillbot rolled forward toward her. He put his heavy arms around her, and she collapsed under their weight. He did not mean to do that, so he picked her back up.
“[whir] Drillbot has thought about Ginny Rex – CLACK – Ginny Rex for nearly every second since her death. And Drillbot has concluded that – CLACK – that Ginny Rex loved Drillbot too much to want rage and anger and sadness to – CLACK – to consume Drillbot. Forgiveness is what – CLACK – is what Ginny Rex would have wanted. So Drillbot forgives Ginny, even if she will not accept it.”
Drillbot watched Ginny stare at the hatred on her past-self’s face for a while longer, allowing her to soak in the horror of the violence she had enacted on Ginny Rex. Then he ordered Sprinkle Buns to return the point in space-time to its proper place. The room transformed back into its natural state of black walls with silver stripes.
And Now, Time Travel Page 9