Older-Art frowned. He attempted to shake the man’s hand, but he found that his hands were still strapped to the bed.
Randy the Saw laughed. “Oh, forgot about those.”
Older-Art did not respond.
Randy the Saw shrugged. Then he said, “I’ve got good news and bad news, though the bad news could be good depending on your perspective. Which do you want first?”
Older-Art sighed. “Good news. Always good news first.”
Randy the Saw nodded to Ginny.
Ginny walked into the room and placed a hand on Older-Art’s chest just below his shoulder. He winced. She looked down and frowned. She had placed her hand on one of his wounds from the battle. She muttered a quick apology, and then she crossed to the other side of the bed, where she placed her hand on that side of his chest. She said, “The good news is that your service is done. Captain King Solomon sent me up here to tell you that you can finally return home!”
Older-Art’s heart raced faster and more excitedly than it had ever raced before. He worried momentarily about a heart attack.
“Yes!” he screamed for a solid minute. He grinned so hard that tears fell from his eyes.
Randy the Saw approached from the other side of the bed. “Settle down, settle down. You’ve just been through major surgery. You’ll wear yourself out if you push too hard.”
Older-Art nodded.
Then Randy the Saw said, “Ready for the bad news?”
“Nothing could feel bad after what I just heard.”
And then Older-Art realized just how wrong he could be. Randy the Saw flipped back the sheet. Everything below Older-Art’s belly button was gone. Randy the Saw had lived up to his reputation for solving all medical problems via amputation.
“What the hell?” Older-Art screamed. “Where are my legs? Where’s my di-”
“Calm down,” said Randy the Saw. “It will be OK.”
“It will be OK? How? My life will never be the same! You’re lucky my arms are strapped down, or I’d strangle you, you sonovabitch!”
And with that, Randy the Saw pressed a button on his communicator. “Bring it in,” he ordered.
Three nurses entered the room carrying a large, hairy object. When they set it down, Older-Art realized that it was the lower half of a gorilla. “No,” he said. “No, no, no.”
Randy the Saw nodded at the nurses. They unstrapped Older-Art’s arms from the bed and carried him to the gorilla-half. They set him down in an opening in its top. As soon as they did so, it made a squelching noise and squeezed tight around his torso. He felt a sharp stab in his belly and back, and then felt something shove its way under his skin and wiggle up his spinal cord until it forced itself into his brain. He screamed. Then he felt the immense pressure in his torso disappear.
He looked down. A pile of feces had splattered onto the ground between his feet.
“It works!” screamed Randy the Saw. “I partnered with the Engineering and Cybernetics departments on this one. Since your back was broken and your body thus needed to be amputated from just above the wound, you no longer had any means to extricate yourself of your waste. We had the choice to either let you die or create something new. Luckily for you, one of our crew’s Purple Shirts—a Gorilla-Person from Earth 90,888,435,222—was severed in half during the battle above Earth 8,669 in the exact right spot to provide what you needed. We used his corpse to create this new, artificial lower half to extricate your waste for you. We also jury-rigged a system to make it wire itself into your brain, so you can control it with your mind. I’ve given your body a huge upgrade! You’ll be able to run and jump and climb faster and higher than ever before! See what I mean? It’s not really bad news if you change your perspective! You’ll be better than new once you get used to it! You’re welcome!”
Older-Art buried his face in his hands. He had no desire to run or jump or climb ever again, let alone do it faster and higher. He tried to sob, but the tears would not come. If this is what it cost him to go home and never see any of these people again, it was worth it.
“Can I at least get some pants?” he asked.
Chapter 50
NOT GOOD NEWS FOR EVERYONE
Normal-Art entered 29333’s hospital room. She looked pale. He had never imagined she could appear fragile, but she did in this bed.
God-Art’s teeth had shredded through her and nearly killed her, but she had survived thanks to Bagoo’s quick action. He had wrapped her bleeding wounds in his stringy bandages, and though it had caused her incredible pain, it kept her from bleeding out.
The same could not be said of Bagoo, who remained in intensive care. He was unconscious, and though Alex had assured Normal-Art that the bog ghost would survive, Normal-Art did not quite know whether to believe it. It would not be the first time that the B.T.T. had lied to him.
Normal-Art crept into the room and sat in a chair near her bed. Ginny and Drillbot were a few rooms down, checking on Older-Art. But Normal-Art did not much care for Older-Art, because he was boring and always attempting to impart terrible advice to Normal-Art.
After a few minutes, Normal-Art heard an excited scream emanating from down the hall. The voice sounded like his, so he assumed it must be originating from Older-Art’s room.
29333 opened her eyes. She said, “Tell them to shut up. Or close the door. I’m trying to rest.”
Normal-Art nodded. He stood and closed the door, since it was the closer of the two options.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked as he sat back down.
29333 groaned. “Y’know. Stuck in a hospital ward because a damned god decided to use me as target practice. With teeth I’m pretty sure he never brushed over the course of his entire existence. So never better.”
Normal-Art stared at his feet. “Well, we finished our mission. I figure the Captain’s going to send me home soon.”
29333 chortled. “Yeah, you keep figuring. You’re bound to be right eventually.”
“I just wanted to stop by and say goodbye,” Normal-Art continued. “You turned out to be a lot less of a bastard than you were for the first decade that I knew you. Oddly enough, I think you and Drillbot might be the only people I will actually miss from this crazy, stupid adventu-”
He was interrupted by a loud snore. He looked up from his feet and saw that she had fallen asleep. He shrugged and leaned back in the chair. He closed his eyes and took a nap.
*
Normal-Art woke up. He did not know how long he had been out. He glanced over at 29333. She was sitting up in her bed, wide awake. “Y’know,” she said. “You’re the first hospital visitor I’ve ever had, other than when 27142 came to visit me once to give me orders to heal faster. I think I’m beginning to grow a little fond of-”
The room’s communicator interrupted her. “Arthur, you are to report to the bridge immediately.”
“As I was saying,” she said. “I think you and I might be more compatib-”
Normal-Art’s addled brain realized the communicator was referring to him. He sprang to his feet and sprinted for the door. He called over his shoulder, “This is it! They must be sending me home! Have a nice life!”
Normal-Art raced into the hallway. He narrowly dodged being crushed against the wall when Older-Art burst forth from his own hospital room, followed by Ginny and Drillbot. Older-Art’s lower half was that of a gorilla and he wore short, cutoff jeans to cover his unmentionables.
“You always been half-gorilla?” Normal-Art asked between puffing breaths as they raced toward the elevator. “Did I just not notice before?”
“It doesn’t matter! It’s time to go home!”
They reached the elevator and cut to the front of the line. The Purple Shirts took one look at Drillbot and did not dare complain.
Soon, the four arrived on the bridge. When they entered, they found Captain King Solomon sitting in his captain’s chair, Alex standing at his station, and Leif steering the ship at the helm. A Purple Shirt sat at 29333’s station. Normal-Art wo
uld have been annoyed that she had been replaced so quickly by such an unqualified replacement, but he did not care enough to allow himself to be annoyed.
“Are we finally headed for home?” screamed both Arts simultaneously, excitement and nervousness underlying the question.
Captain King Solomon stood from his chair. “We are headed for Earth 6,076.”
The Arts looked at him blankly. Captain King Solomon slapped his own forehead. “That is where you are from,” he said.
The Arts cheered. Captain King Solomon gestured for them to quiet down. When they eventually did, he said, “Soon, some of you will have choices to make. Some of you will be given the option to go home.”
Normal-Art shrugged. “I don’t care about the choices! Just send me home!”
Normal-Art raced around the bridge. He high-fived Alex, Leif, and every Purple Shirt he could find. None of them replied with much enthusiasm. “What gives?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be happy? Didn’t we just save the Space-Time-Whatever? And aren’t you finally getting rid of us?”
“Well, yes, in a manner of speaking,” said Alex. “But you must understand: for you, this adventure has encompassed your entire life for decades, but for this ship, this is an infinite time-loop that the Husker repeats every few years using whichever crew happens to be currently assigned to it. The only constants are you, your companions, the mission, the setting, and this ship. Been this way since before I joined the B.T.T., and it will be this way long after I die.”
Normal-Art squinted at Alex. “I’m confused. I’d ask you to explain it again, but I don’t care! I’m going home!”
Captain King Solomon smirked. “I said that some of you will be given the option to go home. Unfortunately, Younger-Arthur, now is not that time for you.”
Before the words could sink into Normal-Art’s brain, Alex swept forward to restrain him. Normal-Art tried to jerk forward and punch the Captain, but Alex was too strong. “No!” screamed Normal-Art. “I did everything that you asked!”
“And now, you will perform one more task.”
“No!”
The Captain replied, “Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter. Events in this time-loop must play out as they must, so as much as I hate to extend our time together, the B.T.T. Governing Council has deemed it necessary to conscript you into our service.”
Normal-Art frowned. He muttered, “I thought all B.T.T. agents had a choice in whether or not they serve. My choice is no.”
The Captain frowned. He said, “Under normal circumstances, that is the case. But in this instance, the existence of the entire Space-Time-Multinuum is at stake, not simply the lives of those spanning a select number of finite realities. For the sake of the entire Space-Time-Multinuum, you must serve the B.T.T. whether you desire it or not.”
Captain King Solomon pulled what looked like a wad of fur from his pocket and pressed it onto Normal-Art’s upper lip. He then retrieved a small hand mirror from his chair and held it up to Normal-Art’s face.
“Now tell me, what do you see?” asked the Captain.
At first, Normal-Art refused to look into the mirror. After a few dozen seconds, when he finally did, revulsion overcame him.
“What do you see?” the Captain repeated.
“Oh, no. Oh, god, no.”
“Well?”
“How did I never notice it before? How did I never notice that I looked just like my old boss at the Department of Motor Vehicles, but without a mustache?”
Captain King Solomon shrugged. “Probably because you rarely notice much of anything,” he suggested.
“Are you really this much of an idiot?” chimed in Older-Art. “Before I brought you aboard this ship, I showed you that Mr. Reynolds was me in disguise. This shouldn’t be a revelation to you at all!”
“Sh-Shut up,” Normal-Art whined to his older-self, apparently unable to think of a clever comeback or response to the fact that he did not pay enough attention to the Mr. Reynolds-Older-Art-revelation to remember it the first time he saw it. Then his shoulders slumped. “If I do this for the B.T.T., then I get to go home?”
Captain King Solomon nodded. “Yes, when your mission is complete, you get to return home.”
“And what’s my mission?”
“The last few decades of your life happened as they did because they needed to happen that way to save the entire Space-Time-Multinuum. And because time occurs in loops that form streams when laid end to end, you must ensure the next loop through happens exactly the same as this one.”
“And how do I do that?”
Captain King Solomon smiled. “There’s no script to follow, if that’s what you’re wondering. You will simply be Mr. Reynolds, your former manager,” he said. “When you were younger, you took the job at the Department of Motor Vehicles so that you could get fired and receive unemployment benefits. Any other boss would have fired you very early on in that employment. But instead, Mr. Reynolds kept you close so that he could keep an eye on you and ensure you had the motivation you needed to run off with Artheoskatergariabetrugereiinganno when he showed up on your doorstep. He then ensured the B.I.T. was alerted to your illegal dimension-hop so that they would come arrest you. And then he was present when you returned from your culture’s version of Hell to deliver you to the B.T.S. Unicorn Husker. You must also perform these tasks to ensure the necessary series of events will occur that will save the Space-Time-Multinuum.”
Normal-Art glared at Older-Art. “Wait, this bastard sicced the B.I.T. on me? He’s the reason I got kidnapped by the B.I.T. and tortured for a decade?”
Older-Art shrugged. Captain King Solomon said, “It happened that way because it needed to happen that way.”
“That’s dumb,” said Normal-Art. “None of it needed to happen that way. As a matter of fact, you don’t really need me for any of this.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong,” said the Captain. “Time is loop after loop after loop. This is the way it’s always happened. So, this is the way it must always happen. You will be sent to Purple Shirt Training, and then you will be stationed in your earth’s past as Mr. Reynolds.”
Normal-Art buried his face in his hands. “I don’t deserve this. Please! Just give me what I want!”
Alex leaned over and whispered in Normal-Art’s ear, “Deserve has nothing to do with this. But trust me, you are the ideal person for this. Because if it were happening to anyone else—anyone with even slightly redeeming values—we would feel at least a twinge of guilt over how that person’s life was ruined by this. But this is happening to you, so such guilt isn’t necessary.”
Chapter 51
AN UNEXPECTED OUTCOME, BUT NOT REALLY IF YOU WERE PAYING ATTENTION
Ginny glanced over at Normal-Art, who had buried his face in his hands. She placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but he shrugged it off. She would like to say this reaction surprised her, but it ultimately did not.
Ginny cleared her throat. Captain King Solomon looked over at her, Older-Art, and Drillbot. The Captain stroked his beard. “And here is where choices come into play,” he said.
The Captain turned first to Older-Art and said, “Arthur, you have two options: you may return home, or you may stay in the service of the B.T.T. and be promoted to an officer of-”
“It’s Art! And send me home!” Older-Art screamed, interrupting.
“But you should know that you shall return to your earth years after you left. Nothing will be the same.”
Older-Art frowned. “Just return me to the moment after I left on the stupid adventure with God-Me. You can travel through time. I know you can do that for me!”
Captain King Solomon shook his head and said, “Unfortunately, that is not possible. There were necessary events that needed to happen in the intervening period in order to save the Space-Time-Multinuum. And you being there could interfere with the timing of those events, which could result in Artheoskatergariabetrugereiinganno being resurrected at the wrong time, or you could bumble y
our way into preventing certain events from happening as they must. Such catastrophes could result in nothing working as intended and could spell the end of the Space-Time-Multinuum.”
Older-Art frowned. Then, after staring at the floor and thinking for a few seconds, he shrugged. “Whatever,” he said. “I don’t care if everything has changed. Send me home, anyway.”
Captain King Solomon nodded. “It shall be done.”
Then he turned to Ginny. “Ginny Longfellow, you have proven your worth to the B.T.T. You may return home, or you may remain in service to the B.T.T. If you choose to stay, you will undergo Purple Shirt Training, and then be immediately promoted and enrolled into Officer Training.”
Ginny glanced over at Older-Art. She placed her hand on his shoulder. She said to him, “Part of my heart wants to choose love and go with you, but my conscience tells me that I should remain here and try to make up for the horrific deeds that I committed while under the Pink One’s control.”
Older-Art stared at her, a dumbfounded look on his face. He muttered, “Babe, I never invited you to come along with me.”
Ginny gasped, “What the hell do you mean? I’m your girlfriend! You said that your younger-self was an idiot for treating me the way he did. And now we’re in a relationship! We’re in love!”
Older-Art shrugged. He said, “I thought we were, y’know, just having a little fling while we were stuck together on this adventure. I never agreed to a relationship once we were done.”
She slapped him. She screamed, “You are such a bastard! You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”
Older-Art shrugged. “That’s probably true. But in a few minutes, I’ll be heading home and will never see you again. So, I don’t need to pretend I care more than I do to keep you from getting upset.”
She jumped on his shoulders and began beating him. Nobody on the bridge made any effort to stop her, though Captain King Solomon eventually interrupted to ask her to make her choice. She chose to remain with the B.T.T., and then she resumed pummeling Older-Art.
And Now, Time Travel Page 38