And that’s when something happened that he had not expected. He had assumed that by stuffing the pink blob inside himself, he had made the ultimate sacrifice: his internal systems would be ripped apart and he would die, but he would also safely lock the pink blob away from ever harming another living being, for he would be its inescapable prison. However, his left eye clouded pink. The ones and zeroes within his processors began turning pink.
He had experienced rage and anger and fury before, but the feeling of hatred was a concept that was not programmed into his processors. Drillbot sensed his code being altered. Feelings of hatred appeared within him and became prioritized within his systems to be his most important emotion. The hate spread through him like the cybernetic mushroom infestation he had witnessed on Earth 5,222,187,999.
His processors began scanning his memory banks. In each of his memories that involved a fleshy being, his new pink code caused him to notice how terribly they treated each other and how much suffering they caused one another. Drillbot revved his gears and fought against the tide of pink hate. He refused to give in, for he had always prioritized most highly the act of valiantly defending life. In fact, he had not stopped with merely defending life. In addition, he had always maintained a secondary priority in his coding to reduce the suffering of those around him in order to make others’ existences as positive as possible.
The pink inside him must have recognized this weakness in his logic. And the pink twisted his code again. Drillbot’s systems reprioritized their goals. He realized with sudden clarity that a reduction in suffering was even more important than keeping someone alive, for if a life was full of suffering, then it would be worse than merely being alive.
And that was how the pink won. It all clicked into place in his processors. He realized that his desire to reduce suffering could actually live in harmony with the Pink One’s goal to destroy all life, that in joining the Pink One, he could help reduce suffering throughout the Multiverse in aggregate.
The logic laid itself out in his processors. If he were to partner with the Pink One to destroy all life in the Multiverse, it would be bad and run counter to his programming that said he should defend life. However, if the meatbags throughout the Multiverse continued to exist, they would replicate and cause death and destruction and suffering to one another. And every generation on every reality would continue the cycle, and before long, the infinite suffering caused by allowing life to continue existing would far outweigh the suffering caused by snuffing out all life in the Multiverse. In order to protect the meatbags from themselves, he would need to give in to his hatred and kill them.
Drillbot smiled his version of a smile. His telescopic eyes filled with murderous, pink hatred. His drills roared to life.
Chapter 40
WHY ALEXANDER THE GREAT ISN’T JUST A CLEVER NAME
Alex felt the wind whip across his face. The flames from his jetpack beat harmlessly against the backs of his thighs, his uniform protecting his flesh from the charring fire. When he neared the roof of the Olympus building, he released the throttle on the jetpack. His momentum carried him high into the air in an arc that dropped him onto the roof’s edge, where he touched down with his knees bent to cushion the landing. He crouched and waited for his compatriots to join.
As Alex waited, he studied the plan in his mind. God-Arthur would be appearing near the middle of this vast rooftop in but a few moments. The B.T.S. Unicorn Husker would then disengage its cloaking device and begin an attack on the god from above. When the god was distracted by the ship’s attack, the Landing Crew would then flank the god from all sides.
Alex turned to watch the Landing Crew approach. One after another, the men and women and multigendered agents and nongendered agents made their jetpack-boosted leaps. 29333 arrived first and landed gently upon the edge of the roof. She was followed by Bagoo, who used no jetpack. The three-dozen Purple Shirts arrived after him. And then Younger-Arthur careened above the edge of the rooftop, flying in an arc that took him far too high and resulted in a rolling crash that left him in a bumbling heap. 29333 grabbed him by the collar of his suit before his momentum caused him to roll off the roof’s edge.
Alex ignored the fool and addressed the group, “Purple Shirt Squadrons Poundsign, Multiplication Table, and Forward Slash, you will spread out to form a ring around the perimeter of the roof. You will follow Officer Bagoo’s orders. Commence your attack on our quarry as soon as Bagoo gives the word. Remember that the safety of the Space-Time-Multinuum is at stake today, and if you must sacrifice your lives to protect it, you will have done so for a cause that will save countless others.”
The Purple Shirts nodded and began running along the edges of the rooftop to form a perimeter. Alex turned to 29333. He said, “Officer 29333, you’re in charge of Arthur. Ensure that he accomplishes what he is destined to accomplish. And try to prevent him from killing himself.”
“Aye, sir,” said 29333, at which point she strode over to Younger-Arthur and lifted him off the ground. He began moaning about being in pain, but she threatened to give him something truly horrific about which to moan if he did not stay silent. Younger-Arthur acquiesced, and the pair hurried to the southwest corner of the building.
Finally, Alex turned to Bagoo and said, “Bagoo, though it may not feel like it in a few moments, know that your assignment is vital to the success of this mission. For without the failure of your assault on God-Arthur, then Younger-Arthur would never act. And I can think of no one that I would rather perform this duty today than you. I’ve been in your position in past time-loops. I know the burden thrust upon you, and I have no doubt that you’ll live up to the precedents set by those who came before you.”
Bagoo nodded. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “If my upcoming wounds don’t kill me, then I shall wear the scars with pride, just as you do with yours.”
Then Bagoo glanced away from Alex and off into the distance. Calmly, the bog ghost said, “Sir, it appears that it is time for you to go. Did you remember to retrieve the necessary weapon from Captain King Solomon?”
Alex followed Bagoo’s gaze. In the distance, Drillbot was leaping toward the pink blob, which had shrunk to the size of a stuffed bear and was pulling Ginny into itself. Alex said, “You’re talking to Alexander the Great. How could there be any doubt whether I remembered?”
Bagoo nodded. “Of course, sir.”
Alex placed a hand on Bagoo’s shoulder. Alex said, “I’ll be back before it’s over, but not long before. Keep Arthur alive at all costs. As much as we may despise him, remember that the bumbling oaf is the key to victory.”
Bagoo nodded. “Of course, sir. I know the situation well.”
Alex nodded back. Then he leapt off the side of the building, and as he did so, he heard Bagoo say, “Alright, folks. Engage camouflage and maintain silence until my mark.”
Alex stared down at the ground, which was now rushing to meet him. He smiled. Adrenaline kicked in. He loved this feeling. He spread his arms out wide, allowing the wind to whip past him.
And then he grabbed the handles sticking out of his jetpack and jammed his thumbs down on the throttles for both engines. He blasted straight toward Drillbot, who was covered in Ginny’s blood and had just finished stuffing the pink blob into his torso.
Alex frowned. He admired Drillbot’s endearing selflessness. Granted, the robot was not always the smartest tactician around—as evidenced by Ginny’s corpse lying on the ground and the fact that he had just stuffed a cosmic entity inside of himself on a whim—but Alex admired him, nonetheless.
As Alex blasted closer and closer to Drillbot, he watched as the pink blob began overcoming the robot’s will and transforming him. Alex counted down from three, and then let go of his throttle. He pulled a small, round device from his holster and twisted a knob on it. He rolled in midair so that his feet faced toward the robot and then waited for his momentum to do most of the work.
And it did. He crashed feet-first into the robot, and the impact
resulted in a resounding clang. The sound was one of the loudest clangs Alex had ever heard, and it reminded him of the mating call of the sentient giant bells from Earth 67,099,843. If it weren’t for the Boots of Bashing that Officer Groveland had checked out to him from the Artifact Library, he would have been killed on impact. But these boots had been acquired by the B.T.T. from a reality occupied by adventurers who constantly embarked upon quests to fight dragons, frequently doing so inside of dungeons. And these boots gave enhanced endurance properties to their wearer and formed a magic barrier that protected the wearer from falls originating from great heights. And since the logic behind leaping from a great height and launching yourself feet-first at an enemy at full-jetpack-speed was nearly the same, the Boots of Bashing did their job and kept Alex from dying.
Alex tumbled across the ground, his breastplate and Phrygian-style helm protecting him from taking too much damage during his tumble. Drillbot caromed away into the rubble of a nearby building. Alex got to his feet and immediately cursed. In all the times he had performed this maneuver on his many adventures, today was the first time he had hurt himself. As he put weight onto his right ankle, pain shot through his leg. Dammit. Must’ve rolled it during my landing, he thought. This could make things interesting.
Drillbot burst from the rubble. Two small scuff marks lay on his metal hide where Alex had dropkicked him. Drillbot’s telescopic eyes glowed bright pink.
Even though Alex already knew the answer, he called to the robot, anyway, “Drillbot, comrade, are you in there?”
The robot replied, “[whir] Drillbot is no more. Drillbot is now – CLANK – is now Pinkbot, the Right Drill of Destruction!”
Alex shrugged. If he were still a Purple Shirt facing vast cosmic threats, he might have been intimidated by the obstacle that lay before him. Instead, he allowed his mind to drift back to the training he had received as a young man before taking over as king of the Macedonian Army. First, he breathed six deep breaths to calm his nerves. Then he tilted his head to each side, stretching his neck muscles. Then he blew his nose and inhaled deeply once more.
Calmness engulfed him. Alex placed the small, round device in his left hand. He used his right to retrieve from his holster the cylinder from which he created his laser-weapons. He switched the setting toggles on the handle to short range and traditional melee combat. A forward-curving blade formed from solid light erupted from the handle. He held the laser-Kopis upright in a defensive position and nodded toward Pinkbot. “Bring your worst,” he muttered.
Pinkbot’s engines roared, and the possessed robot blasted toward Alex at full speed. Alex smiled, noting that other than the robot’s eyes being clouded with pink, the pink blob was not visible anywhere else—no tentacles poking out, no pink blob growing to astronomical proportions. Drillbot’s self-sacrifice to stop the blob was nearly flawless. The robot had managed to completely imprison the blob inside himself, which severely limited the blob’s cosmic power. His only miscalculation was that he assumed he was immune to being warped by the blob into one of the Pink One’s puppets.
Alex used his laser-Kopis to parry drill-strike after drill-strike, waiting for the right opening to pounce. He gave some ground to maintain his defense, wincing every time he stepped onto his right ankle.
Pinkbot noticed. He said, “[whir] Your body has betrayed you, meatbag. Lay down and die, and Pinkbot will – CLANK – Pinkbot will make your end quick.”
Instead of acquiescing, Alex struck a quick blow to the top of Pinkbot’s head. It left a scorch mark on the metal, but otherwise did no harm to the robot. Alex then stepped backward to dodge a blow from the robot’s left drill, and as he did so, he feigned a pained squeal and pretended to stumble as he stepped on his right ankle. He went down on one knee. And just as he expected, Pinkbot attempted to capitalize on Alex’s weakness, diving at him with both roaring drills outstretched.
Alex shifted his weight onto his left leg, leapt into the air, and flipped over the robot. As he did so, he slapped the round device onto the top of the robot’s head just below the scorch mark he had created.
Alex landed gracefully on his left foot and turned to face the robot, who crashed into a nearby pile of debris. Alex said, “As the version of myself from Earth 54,111,087,111,001 would say: Tis all in thy reflexes!”
The robot roared in fury.
Then Alex screamed, “Today is Opposite Day!”
These were the words given to Alex by Captain King Solomon before Alex left the Unicorn Husker, and in screaming them, Alex activated the weapon he had placed on the robot’s head. The weapon was deadly only to robots. It was a logical-paradox amplifier, known simply as the Logical Paradoxiplier. When the weapon is placed in contact with a robot, any logical paradox presented to the robot is multiplied by a factor of a trillion, causing such an intense negative reaction that it overloads the robot’s systems. This overload results in such massive internal damage to its processors that a robot will invariably initiate its self-destruct sequence to cease the discomfort.
The logical paradox of “Opposite Day” went to work. “Opposite Day” was a term that many children on Earth 6,076 used during the late 20th century C.E. (and possibly before/after) because they thought it was clever. However, it was distinctly unclever. The phrase did, however, create an unintended paradox. For if someone claimed that it was Opposite Day, then by necessity it would be the opposite of Opposite Day, and it would thus be a normal day. But if the day were normal, then it could not be Opposite Day, and thus the declaration of it being Opposite Day would be untrue.
The Logical Paradoxiplier amplified the conundrum within Pinkbot. Alex watched as the pink clouds present in Pinkbot’s telescopic eyes began swirling in confusion. The robot screamed, “[whir] Noooo! Pinkbot cannot compute! What did – CLANK – What did you do to Pinkbot?”
Pinkbot’s head began spinning round and round, faster and faster. Steam began whistling from the robot’s microphone. And then the nigh-impenetrable head of the robot exploded. The robot crashed to its side.
A piece of sharp shrapnel stabbed into Alex’s left shoulder. He rolled with the momentum of the blow, tumbling to the ground and then twisting back up onto his feet. As he did so, the pink blob began to emerge from the hole in the top of Drillbot’s torso. The blob leaned toward Ginny’s corpse.
Alex twisted the dial on his metallic cylinder. Satisfied, he threw the laser-Kopis at the pink blob.
The laser-Kopis stabbed into the pink blob and then bounced onto the ground. The pink blob froze. Alex had set the weapon to its permanent stasis mode. The frozen pink blob looked like a murderous butterfly emerging from an equally murderous cocoon. Alex retrieved a Nothing Net from his holster. He unfolded it and swept it over Drillbot and the blob.
Drillbot and the pink blob disappeared. Alex toggled on his communicator. “This is First Officer Alexandros ho Megas of the B.T.S. Unicorn Husker. I’ve got a cosmic weapon contained in my Nothing Net. I need it extracted at once.
“I will also need a time-reversal on two separate entities,” continued Alex. “One is inside the Nothing Net and will need to be separated from the cosmic weapon before reversal occurs. The other is on the ground, shredded into multiple pieces.”
A voice replied over Alex’s communicator. “Affirmative, First Officer Alexandros ho Megas. Both a clean-up crew and a medical crew are on the way to your location. Give them ten seconds to arrive, and as soon as you brief them, you may return to battle.”
“Aye,” said Alex. He retrieved his metallic cylinder from the ground and shut it off. He placed it back into his holster. Then he crossed his arms and waited.
Chapter 41
THE LAST HOPE
Normal-Art watched in dismay and counted the ways things were going wrong.
First, Drillbot had never appeared up here on the roof behind him, and Drillbot had saved his life more often than he cared to think about right now. Normal-Art felt naked without that protection. Second, Alex had flown away. Naturall
y, Normal-Art assumed that Alex was abandoning the Landing Crew to their deaths in order to save himself, just as Normal-Art assumed any commander would do when the odds became too overwhelming. Third, God-Art had appeared in a flash of lightning, and the sight of the god filled Normal-Art with such dread and disdain that it took a lot of effort to prevent his bowels from loosing in his pants. Fourth, it became obvious that his older-self’s back was broken. This meant there would come a day when Normal-Art could no longer walk. This sounded on the surface like a great thing, as the likelihood of any interdimensional or intertimeliminal policing agencies showing up on your doorstep and whisking you away on an adventure were likely much lower if they needed to carry you everywhere. But the downside to this was that when Normal-Art eventually became Older-Art, getting up off the couch to get a snack would be much harder. Fifth, the High Commander of the B.I.T.—Hephaestus, or whatever the hell you wanted to call him—had burst from the entrance to the rooftop, gigantic and frothing and furious. He held an onyx saber in the hand of his oversized arm, and the saber was identical to the one on which the cosmic bears had hung when Art had first encountered them so long ago. Sixth, as Normal-Art glanced from the rooftop out toward the battle between the bears’ armies and the remnants of the B.I.T., he noticed that the incredibly dangerous cosmic bears were now fighting extremely close to the Olympus building. If Normal-Art had a stone to throw, he could have thrown it at them. Granted, he would have missed because he had a terrible arm for throwing, but a regular person with a halfway decent arm would have been able to hit them.
And Now, Time Travel Page 34