Chapter 52
THE HAPPIEST FOREVER
Drillbot watched his compatriots as they made their choices. He was proud of Ginny. She would make a fine officer in the B.T.T. The Arts were a different story. They were a zero to Ginny’s one. Where she was compassionate and caring and loyal, they were abrasive and selfish and unfaithful. Other than long ago on Earth 1,000,000 when Art had prevented Drillbot from being left behind to die, Art had done little to show that he actually cared for Drillbot. Thus, Drillbot made no move to intervene when Ginny began beating Older-Art senseless.
Captain King Solomon turned to Drillbot and spoke loudly to be heard over the pummeling that Ginny was giving to Older-Art, “Drillbot, you also have a choice to make. Like Ginny, you may remain in the service of the B.T.T. You, too, would enter Officer Training immediately after you complete Purple Shirt Training. I could likely secure for you a position as a Chief Security Officer on one of our sister ships once you are an officer. Or I can send you anywhere you want to go in the Multiverse, and you could build a new life there. You could even work for the B.I.T. if you would prefer to pursue that route.”
Drillbot’s processors kicked into overdrive. He played out the scenarios in his head. He could be happy in the B.T.T., but he would always feel like a piece of him was missing. He looked down at Henry, who was perched in the crook of his arm, having been fully healed by the B.T.T.’s infirmary. He could be happy running off to adventure after adventure with the gourd, righting evils across the Multiverse. But in this scenario, too, he would always feel like a piece of him was missing.
And then Drillbot decided. “[whir] None of those options would make – CLACK – would make Drillbot happy. Drillbot has a different proposal.”
And then he told it to Captain King Solomon. Captain King Solomon nodded and said, “There is no going back from this, you know. You will be stuck there forever.”
Drillbot smiled his version of a smile. “[whir] And it will be the happiest forever Drillbot could imagine.”
Ginny was still beating Older-Art, but Drillbot decided she had done enough damage. He needed to say goodbye to her. She was the person he would miss the most.
“[whir] Goodbye, friend,” he said as he pulled her off Older-Art.
When she realized what was happening, a tear fell from her eye. She leapt up and wrapped her arms around the spot where his head met his shoulders, hugging him. “Goodbye. I’ll miss you.”
He hugged her back. “[whir] Drillbot will miss Ginny most of – CLACK – most of all.”
Ginny began desperately slapping his metal hide. She huffed, “Can’t…breathe…”
He released his grip. “[whir] Drillbot apologizes. Drillbot did not mean to – CLACK – to hurt Ginny.”
She grinned at him. “I know,” she said.
Drillbot handed Henry to Ginny. “[whir] This is – CLACK – This is Henry. He will be a good friend to Ginny. Please look after him.”
Ginny looked at the gourd quizzically. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”
Henry sighed. “I can read a room, you know,” he said. “You think I’m excited to be hauled around in your sweaty hands for the rest of my life?”
Ginny smirked. “Sorry. I meant no offense. I didn’t realize you could talk.”
“Well, I can. And if you don’t mind a sassy gourd at your side, I think we could make a good pair.”
“And if not, you will make a good stew.”
“That’s not funny,” replied Henry.
They continued exchanging banter, but Drillbot ignored it. He hugged Ginny once more and then followed Alex out of the room and toward the Jump Chamber. He did not say goodbye to the Arts.
*
Drillbot’s sensors experienced total blackness, and then they returned to their normal functionality. When they did so, he found that he lay cuddled with Ginny Rex. His internal chronometer revealed that this was the eve before the fateful battle on Earth 55,777 where she was destined to die and be disintegrated. His internal gears and processors moaned and whirred, and he became more aroused and excited than he had ever been.
She was spooning him, so he rolled over to look at her face. He could stare at it forever. He did for a few seconds before his sensors experienced total blackness. When they returned to their normal functionality, he was back in the position in which he had been moments before, lying in the embrace of Ginny Rex’s tiny arms and being spooned by her.
Captain King Solomon had granted him the wish that would make him happier than anything else in the entire Space-Time-Multinuum. Drillbot supplied the idea of planting his consciousness into a brief moment in time. He would experience the peace and ecstasy of these same few seconds with Ginny Rex on loop for all eternity.
And to Drillbot, this was the happiest forever anyone could ever experience.
EPILOGUE
Normal-Art sat behind Mr. Reynolds’ desk, having adopted the guise of the Department of Motor Vehicles manager. His mind drifted to all the times he had sat on the opposite side of this desk, receiving lecture after lecture about the need to shape up and take life seriously.
He had occupied this position and this desk for a year now, and it felt just as foreign to him as it did the first time he sat here. He stared at the fake family photo that the B.T.T. had provided to him. He stared at the calendar on his wall, which featured a kitten hanging by a paw from a clothesline, desperately trying to prevent itself from tumbling away into the blue nothingness below it. Above the kitten, big block letters spelled out Hang Tough!
“Get in here, now!” he screamed to the open door.
A younger version of himself trudged inside. Normal-Art had hired this younger version of himself soon after he began his position as manager, and he had hated every minute of the experience. From this side of the desk, his younger-self was brash, arrogant, and above all, lazy. It was an internal struggle every day to not give in to his desire to fire the younger version of himself and be done with it. But if he ever wanted to be free of the B.T.T. and to be allowed to live his life again, he knew that he needed to cooperate, and thus needed to keep his younger-self around until he disappeared on the adventure with God-Art.
God, I hope it happens soon. I can’t stand another minute of this kid, he thought.
And then his younger-self sat down. As Mr. Reynolds, he launched into a long lecture about how Younger-Art needed to shape up. A piece of spittle flung from his mouth and landed squarely on Younger-Art’s forehead. Younger-Art gripped the chair’s hard, plastic armrests until his knuckles turned white.
“I mean it this time. This is your last chance,” screamed Normal-Art.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Reynolds,” replied Younger-Art, his eyes glazed over. “I can go now?”
Normal-Art frowned. “You really need to work on your attitude. Lots of people out there are out of work, and they’d love your job.”
Younger-Art stood up and shrugged. “Oh, yeah, people are just dying to work at the DMV. When they’re standing in line all afternoon, I overhear, like, every one of them say to each other, Hey, I love this experience so much, I wish I could come back every day.”
Normal-Art began screaming at Younger-Art as the younger man stood and walked out of the room. Normal-Art wanted desperately to chase after his younger-self and beat the annoying brat to within an inch of his life.
After Younger-Art left Normal-Art’s office, he received word from the other employees that Younger-Art had left the Department of Motor Vehicles office without permission and was going on break for the rest of the day. Normal-Art immediately called him. The line went to Younger-Art’s voicemail. Normal-Art seethed and screamed a nasty message into the phone.
And then he looked down at his messy desk, only to see something he had never seen before: a tiny man about the size of a pinhead wearing what appeared to be an astronaut’s uniform. The man sat on Normal-Art’s newspaper. The man pressed a button on his suit and grew to about an inch in height.
The man removed his b
ubble-shaped helmet. He looked just like Normal-Art. The man waved.
“Hi!” squealed the man’s tiny voice. “I am Captain Art. I lead a fleet in the Bureau of Microscopic Travel. I am you from the Microscopicverse, a series of subdimensions smaller than anything you could possibly imagine. I’m here because we’re desperate. I need you to come with me. You are the key to saving the Microscopicverse.”
Normal-Art sighed. He was never volunteering for another adventure so long as he lived. He immediately slapped the tiny man. It felt like slapping a bug. He walked to the bathroom and washed the tiny gore off his hand.
Then he called Younger-Art again. This time, the line answered and then immediately hung up. He sighed once more, hoping one day soon, he would be free of the B.T.T. and get to return to his own life and laze about on his own couch.
He eventually got his wish. But as you know, it did not happen quite when or how he wanted it to happen.
ANOTHER NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This novel revolves around time travel (obviously).
If you noticed any continuity errors, then great job! Sometimes the story changes ever so slightly through successive time-loops, and the text can’t keep up. Congratulations on recognizing the blips in the Space-Time-Multinuum.
Definitely written in total sincerity,
Chris Brimmage
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to Mark Reddish for all the help. You always take the time to make these things better, and your feedback is always appreciated.
Just so you know: if you threw a party, and you invited every single person you knew, then you would soon see that the biggest gift would come from me, and the card attached would say, “Hi. This is from Chris & G & Little Bear. That is all.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christopher Brimmage is a writer, teacher, marketer, and former boy band frontman. He has a wife named Geraldine to whom he loves to sing Meatloaf, a son named Augustus with whom he has formed the Steam Roller Boyz, and a pair of brothers that he loves to annoy.
And Now, Time Travel Page 39