Last Playground

by Geoff North

  Brinn was shaking her head and staring at the fire. “But we’re in one of those worlds that Uncle Neal created. Why haven’t I ever been able to visit Bertha’s world?” Paris looked at her with a hurt expression. Had she never imagined what his world was like?

  Robert Gunnarson knelt down in front of her and took one of her hands in his own. He spoke softly and slowly. “Everyone and everything that has ever lived, everybody living now, and all those yet to be born, have the ability to create parallel dimensions through thought. It’s why the universe is so vast, so infinite. You can tap into those worlds, Brinn. You can bring the people there to you—a lot of people can. Neal, though…well, he could create portals to those other worlds. He could bring his creations to him, and he could visit them as easily as walking into another room.”

  “What do you mean by ‘a lot of people’? Besides myself…and Uncle Neal, I’ve never heard of imaginary characters being dreamed up by anyone else.”

  “Your world is full of examples,” Reginald explained. “There are sightings of UFOs, alien abductions, forest creatures such as fairies and Big Foot, mysterious sea monsters, dragons, angels and demons, ghosts and goblins, vampires, werewolves, gods, demigods, and dozens more. The list is endless. Earth’s legends and mythology are proof positive that the commander’s theory is in fact, fact.”

  Paris finally took an interest in the subject. “That’s all really awesome, but what is the ‘contraction’ part of your theory supposed to mean?”

  Gunnarson stood and swatted the dirt from his patched knees. “We all die, boy. Our imaginations die with us. Think of it as the universe’s way of tidying up, making room for new lives, new dimensions. That’s what is happening to Neal’s world. Things are closing in, shutting down.”

  “So what am I expected to fix?” Brinn asked. “Sounds like there’s nothing I can do to change a thing…even with my ability.”

  For the first time since wandering into the camp, Commander Gunnarson looked unsure of himself. He shrugged. “You’re a direct relation…maybe you can take over where he left off.”

  “You want me to replace him?” She had warmed instantly to the man that looked so much like her grandfather. Now she was beginning to fear him. “You expect me to stay here?”

  “Good heavens, no! It’s nothing like that. I only want—we only want you to get a feel for the place…get to know us, get to know all of Neal’s creations. I believe you have the power to give everything a jump start—a recharge. All can return to normal through you.”

  “I won’t live forever. What will happen to these worlds then?”

  Gunnarson was ready for her this time. He grinned and his eyes glistened once again. “You’ll have children, nieces and nephews. There will be grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Nothing needs to truly die as long as the lineage carries on.”

  It was insane, Brinn thought. But it also made sense in a crazy way. Royal families had been ruling countries and empires for thousands of years. All Brinn was expected to do was keep a parallel dimension—an entire universe—running forever.

  Piece of cake.

  It wasn’t fair. Brinn only wanted to live a normal life. She just wanted to be a teenager—or to at least try and be a normal teenager. It had been hard enough losing her mom. Everyone expected her to pick up the pieces and carry on. And now this.

  He saw the concern on her face. “Do you want to see where I was when you came here?”

  Brinn sighed resignedly. “Sure, why not?”

  The others started to follow them up the small trail towards the crater rim. Gunnarson waved them back. “Give us a few minutes alone. There’s nothing up there that most of you haven’t already seen…and you know how I feel about the place.”

  Reginald and Oscar stopped, but Selma, Bertha, and Paris pushed on. “I’ll be fine.” Brinn motioned them back as well. Paris shrugged and returned to the fire, where Lowe was still sitting and smoking. Selma went with the wizard. Brinn was starting to wonder if the girl had taken an interest in him. Don’t bother, she thought. He isn’t worth the effort.

  Bertha stood there, halfway up the path, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Brinn shook her head and the woman finally turned back as well.

  “That’s a loyal friend you have there,” Gunnarson commented as they left the crater.

  “Bertha’s wild and hard to control sometimes, but yes…besides Selma she’s the best friend I’ve ever had…the most faithful anyway.”

  “I know how you feel. My best friend is just around this pile of rocks.”

  They followed a small footpath between boulders and came out into a clearing lined with a circle of dead alien shrubs. Fuel for his fire? More of the essentials? Another rock sat in the center of it all, a man-made rock.

  A tombstone.

  As they approached, Brinn could see a black-and-white photograph inserted near the top, protected by a plate-glass covering. She knew who lay buried beneath even before recognizing the beautiful woman pictured above.

  “Gramma Erin.”

  Gunnarson squatted down and touched the glass, his fingers gently following the outline of her face. “My wife…Amy.”

  It was sadly ironic, Brinn thought. In her world, this woman was still alive, mourning the loss of her husband, her daughter, and her son. But here, the husband still lived, longing for his departed wife. Only one thing remained the same in both worlds. Neal was still dead.

  “I know you can’t bring the dead back to life,” he continued, his voice low and shaking. “All I ask is that you remember us…remember everything.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Neal and his damn imagination is what happened to her. It wasn’t enough to plop us on this godforsaken space rock.” Gunnarson stood back up. “No. He didn’t think things through. When we first traveled here, he pulled the asteroid in too close to the moon. He thought it looked ‘cool.’ That was all fine and dandy when he was alive. His imagination could do whatever the hell it wanted. Neal’s world…Neal’s rules…. When he died the asteroid’s orbit started to decay.”

  Reginald had been right, Brinn thought. The robot knew something was wrong.

  “There’s a sustainable atmosphere down on Big Red. Amy and I attempted to make it there. Those machine parts you saw back in camp are the remains of a spaceship. It worked well enough when Neal was still alive. The three of us used to hop from planet to planet and moon to moon.” Gunnarson closed his eyes and shook his head. “We never even made it off the surface of the asteroid. A fire broke out…Amy didn’t make it… I should’ve used the transport terminal and taken us back to Earth—to the Plains of Stauch…hell, even Artica Land. At least she would still be with me.”

  Brinn looked out into space. Big Red sat in a field of black and nebulous blue, suspended there like a fat oblong fruit. A strip of yellow broke over the asteroid’s rocky horizon. The curved surface of the immense moon rose up before her eyes, blocking half of the planet out in less than a minute.

  “The asteroid is going to crash into the moon… How soon?”

  “Soon. Too goddamn soon.”

  “You sure swear a lot for a religious man.”

  “Amy was the spiritual one. I was always too busy reading science journals and working on my equations. I only took to reading the Bible after she died…it brought me closer to her in a way.” He straightened back up and looked to the heavens. The moon was directly in front of them now. Big Red had disappeared behind it altogether. The Milky Way spun lazily through intergalactic space in the opposite direction like a giant cartwheel—or their asteroid did; it was hard to tell the difference. “It’s a good book…lots of meaningful things to be learned there…plenty of fine lines I like to quote… But no, I’m not a religious man. Not really.”

  They continued to watch the expansive kaleidoscope of stars for a minute in silence. It gave Brinn time to think further on things. “Am I just a character dreamed up by someone out there? Is my whole world just some al
ien child’s imaginary playground?”

  “That could very well be. Earth itself may be living on borrowed time. Let’s hope that alien kid is long-lived.”

  “That isn’t a comforting thought…and it doesn’t leave much room for…a God.”

  Robert Gunnarson’s hand was still resting on top of the grave marker. “I wouldn’t say that, Brinn. Something had to create everything in the first place. I like to believe that someone is watching over all of us.”

  “Is that your next working theory?”

  “Blessed are the ignorant, for theirs is the kingdom of God.” He laughed up at the distant galaxies and started back down the path into the boulders. “Some theories should never be put to paper, young lady. Figuring out how the universe works was enough for me. I’ll leave the why to whoever’s pulling all the strings.”

  Kind of like the little boy that created you, she thought. Without any idea how the universe was organized, and not even caring to know, Neal Stauch had inadvertently imagined someone that could. She kept this last part to herself.

  ***

  The camp had split into two groups. On one side of the fire sat Marshal Lowe and Bertha. They said little, settling their steely glares and thoughts instead into the purple flames before them. Reginald, Oscar, and Selma were poring through more of the commander’s papers at the work table.

  “Where’s Paris?” Brinn asked.

  Oscar tilted his head towards the tent. “Said he felt a bit queasy. He’s resting inside.”

  “Presumptuous little turd, isn’t he?” Gunnarson muttered.

  Brinn squeezed between the android and the robot to see what they were looking at. A map was spread out across the table. On it was an immense area of semi-organized grid lines and blocks. There were hundreds of streets, business locations, government installations and public facilities. She saw rivers and roads slicing and twisting around tiny squares and rectangles that could only be buildings. “What is that? A city?”

  “It’s New Hamden, back on Earth,” Oscar answered. “The biggest city there is.”

  “Any city is bigger than Old Hamden,” Selma added. They gave her a funny look but said nothing.

  Reginald glowed blue. “This is only a quarter of the original map. New Hamden at one time was home to more than fifty million people.”

  Brinn tried to picture a work table four times larger, a map four times bigger. The intricate amount of detail on the one before them was staggering enough. Uncle Neal’s imagination had been limitless. “Does it still exist?”

  Oscar pointed down at an upper edge; the sleeve of his jacket rode up his arm, revealing the mechanics once covered by artificial skin. “It’s still there alright, but it’s no longer such a nice place to visit. We have to make our way to the center of the city…here. That’s where the S.S.I.A. is located.”

  “Why do we have to go there? Don’t I just have to keep you all in my thoughts to keep this universe going?” Oscar looked down at his feet. Gunnarson puffed out his cheeks and stared at the moon above his head. Reginald sat there, no longer glowing blue, no longer producing any color. Selma leaned against the table, looking confused and worried. “You’re hiding something from me… What is it?”

  “New Hamden is now overrun with wannasee and worse,” Oscar began. “And here resides Neal’s most powerful imaginary friend. He’s sucking whatever life is left from the city into himself.”

  Reginald beeped beside her. “His present rate of power consumption will drain the city within days; soon after that he’ll begin drawing life-energy from the surrounding municipalities and bordering worlds. An already dire situation is being accelerated by his actions.”

  Gunnarson nodded. “It’s what’s speeding up this asteroid’s decaying orbit. Everything everywhere is being affected by it.”

  Brinn leaned against the table. “I can barely protect myself from a single wannasee. How do you expect me to stop a whole city filled with them, and this…this…super-character?” Her eyes met Marshal Lowe’s. There was a twinkle in his steely grays—a sick, murderous excitement. He couldn’t wait to get to New Hamden; the more wannasee for him to slaughter, the better. She looked to Oscar for answers. He was the one that had promised them safety when they first met. He was the one that had convinced her to enter Uncle Neal’s strange universe. He was the one she held responsible.

  A scream broke the awkward silence. Brinn spun around and saw Paris stagger out of the tent. He was holding a hand to one side of his face.

  Gunnarson reached him first and shook his arm. “What is it, boy? What’s the matter with you?”

  The hand dropped away and Gunnarson stepped back—they all did.

  Paris Pureheart’s left eye was gone, the socket now covered with pale, yellow skin.

  Chapter 10

  “My face! My beautiful face! What’s happening to me?” The wizard boy stumbled into a pile of machine parts and toppled over. Oscar was helping him back to his feet before Brinn could even move.

  Gunnarson stood back, not offering assistance of any kind. “I want that kid out of my camp and off of this asteroid. He’s turning…becoming one of them. Maybe you should put him out of his misery now before it goes any further.”

  Brinn tore her eyes from Paris and looked at the commander uncomprehendingly. Had he actually said that? This man based on her grandfather—a man that quoted from the Bible—did he really find it acceptable to put a teenager to death? No one else seemed shocked by the suggestion. She looked down at Lowe, his gaze still entranced by the purple flames of the fire. He spat a wad of tobacco into the coals and it sizzled. Bertha sat next to him, the trace of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She hated Paris. Selma continued to stare at the yellow flesh covering the wizard’s eye socket. Brinn couldn’t read her expression at all. Only Oscar had a slight look of compassion to him.

  “What’s wrong with all of you?” Brinn shouted. Paris had collapsed to his knees, cradling that part of his head where his eye had been in both hands. She put her arms around him and hugged tightly. “Why are you all just staring like that?”

  “The commander is correct,” Reginald offered. “The boy is becoming wannasee.”

  “Th-that’s impossible,” Brinn whispered. Paris moaned in her arms. “He’s one of mine. I imagined him into the world. How can he change into one of those things when I’m still alive?”

  There was a long moment of silence. One of Reginald’s arms slithered out and patted Paris on the back, as if comforting a child—or readying a dying animal. “Why don’t you help Paris back into the tent where he can get some more…rest?”

  Lowe spoke up. “Or you could let me take him behind the rocks and let be done what needs doin’.”

  She ignored him and looked pleadingly to Gunnarson. He turned away quickly and nodded. Brinn helped Paris to his feet and back into the tent. He slumped down onto the cot without protest and shut his remaining eye. He fell asleep within seconds.

  “It always starts out like that,” Oscar said quietly. He stood in the opening, his hands tucked awkwardly into his pants pockets. “The initial shock wears them right out. Believe me, he’ll sleep for hours, and well…when he wakes up…he probably won’t remember who he was.”

  “That’s supposed to make me feel better?” She slipped past him and went towards the fire. She sunk down into the dry dirt and watched the flames spark and jump higher as Lowe threw more wood on. Oscar sat next to her but remained quiet. Everyone remained silent. She looked at each and every one of them. “Nobody answered my question—why Paris?”

  “Do you like the boy?” Gunnarson asked.

  “What does that matter? Nobody deserves to be turned into one of those things.”

  “No, you misunderstand… I get the feeling you don’t care much for him—haven’t for some time. Maybe he doesn’t feel that strongly about himself, either. Now maybe, just maybe, when you combine those facts with the drain constantly sucking life from New Hamden—”

  “B
ut we’re light years from New Hamden,” Brinn interrupted. “How could that drain affect any of us here?”

  “Perhaps because of the family connection…I don’t know…it’s happening, that’s all that matters. You have to get there and stop it.”

  “And Paris? Can the changes be reversed?”

  The ground beneath them shuddered. An explosive noise sounded through the air that reminded Brinn of the marshal’s rifle firing, only much louder. Selma left the fire and went over to a six-inch-wide chasm that had developed on the asteroid’s surface less than twenty feet away. Small rocks and dirt continued to cascade down into the dark opening. The others followed her and Reginald pulled the girl back.

  “Nice imagination your uncle had,” she said, pushing the android away once the tremors subsided. “Cowboys and robots, and asteroids with earthquakes.”

  “Neal didn’t imagine that,” Gunnarson said. “The closer this rock gets to the moon, the more gravitational force is being pulled on it. I’ve been feeling tremors for weeks now, but that was the hardest yet. The asteroid is pulling itself apart.”

  The fat yellow moon appeared on the horizon again. They watched for a few moments as it rose before them, completely blocking Big Red out behind it. Reginald rolled back and forth, his squares blinking red and orange. “The asteroid will impact the moon’s surface in seventy-two hours, fourteen minutes… However…” There was another series of clicks and beeps from under his blinking surface. “At our present rate of orbital acceleration, the asteroid will crumble to pieces sixty-four hours before that.”