by Rudy Rucker
“Hey,” he said, struggling to disentangle himself. Getting clear took just that one or two seconds too long. When he was free, there was nobody around, and his clothes were gone. The pants and purple shirt he’d crafted on Unipusk.
“Mom,” shouted Frek, hoping it had just been her, maybe doing laundry.
Nobody answered. From downstairs came the sounds of his family having breakfast. Frek hurried down the hall. The whole second floor was empty, with a morning breeze blowing in through his bedroom’s wide open window. His dirty clothes lay in the middle of the bedroom floor. Even before he checked, he could see there was nothing in the pants pocket. Leaning out the window, he heard the faint sound of angelwings beating above the anyfruit tree.
He pulled on some clean clothes and ran down to the kitchen. Lora, Geneva, Ida, and Gibby were sitting at the table, and the dogs were outside chowing down from a big bowl.
“Hi, Frek,” said Lora, smiling broadly at the sight of her son. “Our hero! I found some giant raspberries on the anyfruit tree, dear. They’ll be yummy with this toasted grobread.”
“Where’s Renata?” demanded Frek. “Did she fly away?”
“Maybe,” said Geneva, glancing out the window. “I don’t see her wings on the lawn anymore.” She turned to Frek and giggled. “We thought she was still upstairs with you. Renata has a goggy crush on Roarboy. L - O - V - E.”
“Love?” spat Frek. “She stole my elixir!” He knew he should act calm for the sake of the eyes in the walls, but he just wasn’t able to. He’d traveled to the center of the galaxy, fought with aliens, sacrificed his father, and bounced off the very rim of the universe—only to have the prize picked from his pocket by the girl he’d almost thought he loved.
“Calm down and eat,” said Lora sternly. “Act normal.”
“No use!” yelled Frek. “Yessica and Renata are gonna sic the counselors on me again, I know it. Come on, Gibby, let’s get out of here before it’s too late! Let me use your angelwings, Mom!”
Gibby quickly hand-walked over to the kitchen door. Out in the yard, Wow was standing by the abandoned counselor hut barking at the sky. “Oh, Salla,” murmured Gibby, peering out and cocking his head.
“What is it?” said Frek.
“I hear them geevin’ lifter beetles,” said Gibby and sighed, pulling down his hat. “It’s too late for us to try to fly. We gotta run for it, Frek. Take us down the back alleys to the river. If we can luck out that far, I’ll get us home. I know the riverbanks real good.”
“Not again!” wailed Lora. “I can’t stand this!”
“We’re going to win, Mom,” said Frek. Suddenly he felt a deep confidence. He could make weapons by kenny crafting, and even if he couldn’t keep the mind worms from spying on him, he had the sky-air-comb autopoiesis to keep them from having too much control. The Orpolese were on his side, and maybe the Magic Pig. “The revolution begins now.” He glanced over at the house tree wall. “You hear me, Gov? Your days are over.”
When Frek and Gibby stepped out onto the front lawn, they saw lifter beetles coming from every direction. A half dozen of them, carrying counselors with webguns at the ready.
“Craft a blaster,” urged Gibby. “Blow them away.”
“I—I’m not sure I should,” said Frek, suddenly doubting himself. “They’re humans.”
“Make a blaster!” insisted Gibby. “It’s the only way!”
So in the midst of all the confusion, Frek focused on the empty space between his hands, did his best to merge with the emptiness, and tried to vaar some dark matter into a ball of kenner. But nothing was happening, and before he could try again, here came gurpy Zhak and PhiPhi, sprinting across the lawn, Zhak holding a crimson uvvy that looked even more sinister than the yellow peeker uvvy he’d had before.
Frek wanted to run the other way, but two more counselors were coming across that side of the yard, and when he turned back toward the house tree, yet another pair of counselors burst out the front door, carrying jo nets. Wow and Woo were mixing into things as well, barking and snapping. Frek’s legs got all tangled up, he tripped over Gibby, and—
Splat.
The sticky jo nets wrapped Frek and Gibby into a single bundle. PhiPhi and Zhak were leaning over Frek once again, the two of them wearing Gov’s uvvies on their necks. As before, they were dressed in powder blue overalls.
“Welcome back the space voyager,” said PhiPhi. “Big week for small boy. Gov yes saved the memory of you shooting him in case you wondering. And Yessica tell us lots of things.”
Wow and Woo seemed ready to bite her—but she produced an electric eel and gave Wow a shock that sent him yelping away, with Woo following after.
“I put the ooey in Frek now?” said Zhak, hefting the crimson uvvy. It was isolated in a transparent membrane or bag, presumably to keep it from fastening onto Zhak himself. The ooey must have been able to smell through the bag, for when Zhak held it near Frek, the blood-colored glob began twitching like a hungry leech. Its surface was covered with soft, hair-fine tendrils that writhed against the membranous sack. Frek was sure the ooey would be capable of filtering itself right through his skin. Teasingly, Zhak toyed with the seal at the top of its bag.
“Hold on,” said PhiPhi. “We ask Frek things first. Ooey not well tested, still having wetware problems. We counselors not wearing them yet, you notice, Frek. And since your brain maybe having some peeker damage from last week, is chance ooey can malfunction in you. So we debrief him first, Zhak.”
There was a burst of cursing from Gibby, who chose this moment to make a last-ditch effort to tear off their jo nets. But in the end, the nets held them only the tighter. Nevertheless, the sound of Gibby’s voice reminded Frek that he wasn’t helpless.
Frek focused on the space between his hands, which were bunched against his chest right below his chin. He shut out PhiPhi’s pushy voice, the tension of the rubbery net, the rough feel of Gibby’s tail against his shoulder, the cries of the other counselors, the sound of Lora yelling from the house, and the sweet smell of the spring morning breeze. Everything was different, everything was the same.
Frek stared at the space between his hands until he saw it shimmer. Breathing evenly, he vaared the dark matter into a nicely striped ball of kenner, nestled between his palms. This was half the battle. The only thing was, the kenner felt a little funny. Instead of passively waiting for him to vaar it into shape, it was twitching, as if it were trying to crawl off.
“Won’t answer?” PhiPhi was saying in an sharp tone. She’d been talking all this time, and Frek hadn’t heard any of it. She was angry at being ignored. “Come, Zhak,” snapped PhiPhi. “We load them into lifter beetle and debrief on way to Stun City. Taking off kid gloves.”
“Drop Grulloo splat on ground,” chuckled Zhak. “Scare Frek to talk.”
“Snap out of it, Frek!” cried Gibby, thrashing so hard that the whole world seemed to shake. “Get somethin’ happenin’, boy!”
While Zhak, PhiPhi, and another counselor were roughly bundling Frek and Gibby into the cargo basket of PhiPhi’s shiny teal lifter beetle, Frek kept his attention upon the little ball of kenner between his hands. He had to press his palms together to keep the willful kenner from wriggling away. Feeling around in his mind, he found the ruby-crystal blaster specs that he’d used on Unipusk. He pushed the spidery diagrams out to make a shell around the borders of his mind. And in the center was the ball of kenner.
Lora loomed up to one side. “Frek! Are you okay?”
Merged with his crafting process, Frek couldn’t pause to answer. This was it. He let his carefully arranged images of the blaster descend upon the shuddering ball of kenner. And it turned into—something more like a crippled rat than like a blaster. Something very much like a rat. The malformed kenner-rat bit into the ball of Frek’s thumb, drawing blood. And then it squeaked and limped across his chest, slipping down to land on Gibby’s face. Gibby bellowed, and the kenner-rat leaped into the air—where it disintegrated back into i
nvisible dark matter.
Meanwhile the lifter beetle rose up, leaving Frek’s family behind. Frek caught a last glimpse of Lora, Geneva, Ida, and the two dogs sadly staring up at them. He pressed his hands together, stanching the trickle of blood. He was remembering the last words Gawrnier had said to him about kenny crafting: “Never work with kenner that tries to fight your will.”
“Where’s the geevin’ blaster, Frek?” muttered Gibby.
“It’s not gonna happen,” answered Frek. “I can’t craft kenner here.”
“Talking now?” said PhiPhi, whirling around in her seat to glare at him. “Answer my question, or Zhak throwing ugly Grulloo buddy overboard.”
“What question?” said Frek. “I didn’t hear.”
“Not play dumb,” cried PhiPhi. She snatched a short brown eel out of her pouch and reached back with it to tap Frek on the neck. A terrible electric shock traveled through Frek’s chest and down his spine, driving an odd, involuntary chirp from his mouth. His muscles spasmed and went limp.
“Answer question,” repeated PhiPhi.
“I really didn’t hear you before,” said Frek, hating how frightened he felt. “Say it again.”
“Throw out Grulloo now?” said Zhak, who’d turned around in his seat as well. They were hovering some five hundred meters above the ground, outside of Middleville on the way to Stun City.
“Please tell him the question again,” begged Gibby. “He surely wants to answer!”
“Okay, you listen good,” said PhiPhi. “Yessica say aliens watching us like toons. Yessica say aliens can change what we do. Yessica say Frek is representing humanity for this deal. Gov want Frek tell aliens to make Gov strong. Will Frek do?”
“Sure,” said Frek, with a bit of a sneer. “Anything you say.”
“Not enough,” said PhiPhi sharply. “Tell more.” She scowled and leaned toward him with the electric eel. The kritter had tiny red eyes, blank as two glass beads.
“They call it the humanity channel,” said Frek, talking fast. “These branecasters from another dimension are broadcasting our thoughts. And some sunspot aliens from the galactic core are our, like, sponsors. The Orpolese. I picked them instead of these uptight other aliens called Unipuskers. When the Orpolese fully launch the show, the individual Orpolese subscribers will be able to affect what people on Earth do. I’m not sure how that’s gonna come down. We’ll be like toons in a game played by Orpolese aliens. I’d really like to try and—”
“Now we get somewhere,” interrupted PhiPhi. “You saying like Yessica. She say if Orpolese not helping Gov, we can kill you and Yessica talk to branecasters and let Unipuskers run humanity channel instead. Yessica say Unipuskers is better bet for Gov.”
“Oh, you can trust me to make the switch if you like,” said Frek quickly. “Yessica’s a grinskin. You don’t want to work with her.”
“But we not trusting you,” said PhiPhi. “Not yet, anyhow.” She winked at Zhak. “Give Frek his ooey. Remember, Zhak, the ooey must crawl in through left eye socket to stick on left half of brain. Not right side. This side.” PhiPhi tapped one of her angular cheekbones.
Zhak grimaced, showing a black tooth Frek hadn’t noticed before. Zhak was fiddling with the ooey bag, undoing the seal. The bag’s top flopped open, and Frek caught a smell compounded of disinfectant and decay. Zhak leaned into the carrier basket, his glittering eyes fixed upon Frek’s. The web had drawn itself so tight that Frek could barely move his head. Zhak came closer, balancing the sack with the excited ooey right over Frek’s face.
Someone please help me, thought Frek, not saying it out loud, as he didn’t want to give PhiPhi and Zhak the satisfaction. But wasn’t anyone watching over him? Frek could feel the golden glow. Surely there were espers looking through his eyes. Where were the Magic Pig and the Orpolese?
The living blood-clot of the ooey stretched a first tendril down toward the corner of Frek’s eye. Help!
And then, finally, the welcome chaos of an Orpolese donut darted in, surrounding them with luminous orange walls. The Orpolese craft felt large on the inside, maybe a hundred meters across. Suspended in the center of the pumpkin-colored interior was a giant ebony cuttlefish, his curves rippling with iridescent fringes of color. In an instant, one of his glistening black tentacle-tips had snatched up the ooey and vaporized it in a puff of light. Two other tentacles plucked PhiPhi and Zhak from their seats and held them high in midair, while other black tendrils tore apart Frek’s and Gibby’s bonds.
“Gov getting you for this, Frek,” called PhiPhi, her voice shaking.
Meanwhile Frek and Gibby clambered out of the cargo basket and into the lifter beetle’s front seats. Immediately the beetle settled to the curved orange floor of the donut and folded its veined wings beneath its metallic teal blue wing covers. It had a stubborn look about its compound eyes.
A flock of teardrop-shaped tweets spiraled down from a nub on the inner surface of the rind surrounding them. The tweets flew through Gibby, the beetle, and the humans as easily as if they were fog. Frek knew from past experience that the Orpolese were sampling their thoughts. The great black cuttlefish edged closer to talk.
“Yubba you,” said the alien, rolling from side to side, brandishing PhiPhi and Zhak like a witch-doctor’s dolls. “I’m Vlan, and we’re inside my main squeeze Tagine. Time to close the deal, Frek.” These were Bumby and Ulla’s grandchildren.
“Tangerine?” said Gibby as if not understanding the name.
“Mandarin, kumquat, satsuma, tangerine,” riffed Vlan. “But the name is Tagine like the popular Moroccan dish. Meat, chard, and anyfruit steamed under a glazed clay cone, yubba. My sweet sour Tagine. You saw us get born?” Like Bumby before him, Vlan spoke in bursts and spirals.
“We saw it,” said Frek. “Whaler and Tusky pinched you off. What do you mean about closing a deal?”
“Activating the esper feedback loop is what you very well know I mean, bad boy. Don’t scheme on burning us. A deal’s a deal. For sure we’re working our end.” Vlan waggled the struggling figures of PhiPhi and Zhak once again. “You got your elixir, and, yo, I’m here when you need me.”
“But I lost the elixir,” said Frek, mentally scrambling for ways to postpone the Orpolese control over humanity. “Renata stole it.”
“Never mind,” said Vlan, drifting still closer. Like Bumby, the Orpolese cuttlefish had yellow eyes with W-shaped pupils. On big Vlan, the eyes were intimidating. “Our audience is raring to go; they’re solar-flaring a Congo beat. Start the, start the, start the show! Fact is, getting your elixir in action is one of our gamers’ priority tasks. We’ve already got ten thousand customers, Frek—signed, aligned, and paradigmed.” Vlan extended a tentacle toward Frek, forming the tip into the shape of a shiny black hand. “Press the flesh, bro. Squeeze me tight.”
Frek knew full well that shaking Vlan’s pseudohand was going to change everything. But at this point he had no other choice. The hand-shaped tip of the Orpolese alien’s tentacle was firm and pleasant to the touch. Frek gave it a quick shake and broke contact. They’d closed the deal.
Right away Frek had the sense of something trying to latch onto his brain—an Orpolese player wanting to control him. He pushed the oncoming glow into the space around him; he made his thoughts as clear and permeable as air; he imagined combing his brain’s patterns into their natural state. Sky-air-comb. The player slid aside, unable to take root or gain purchase.
Meanwhile Vlan set down Zhak and PhiPhi on the pumpkin floor beside Frek. All of a sudden the two counselors had tiny little donut-shaped halos floating above their heads, as if they were old-time cartoon angels. PhiPhi’s donut halo was pale green with dark blue veins, while Zhak’s was smooth gray with bilious yellow markings.
“We like to show the players’ icons above their talent avatars,” said Vlan by way of explanation. “We bootstrap off the talent’s wave function to realize a model into the talent world.” Clear as mud.
“I will help you now, Frek,” said PhiPhi
. “Logging in Hexatope from galactic core. PhiPhi-Hexatope front and center for kicking Govvy butt.” She twitched spastically, nearly fell down, then caught her balance and lurched closer. “You need help to fly lifter beetle. Beetle only listen to PhiPhi. I fly you Stun City for the revolution. Shut up, Gov!” With a quick motion, PhiPhi whipped her hand up and tore the uvvy off her neck and tossed it on the floor.
“Me yes too,” said Zhak, casting away his own uvvy. “Logging in Gaga. Want slash puffball with sword.” By way of demonstration, Zhak began executing a series of karate moves, circling around the gently curving orange floor.
Though Zhak was initially awkward, as the distant gray esper learned the counselor’s body parameters, the twists and lunges took on an inhuman smoothness and intensity. Soon Zhak was executing the supernaturally deft katanas of a martial arts toon character. A final somersault and twist brought the counselor to a standstill directly before Frek.
“Zhak-Gaga report for action. We fly to Stun City and recruit.” The little gray and yellow halo wobbled above his head.
“Urk,” interrupted Gibby, still sitting next to Frek in the beetle’s pod. “Urk, urk, urk.” There was the ghost of a halo above the Grulloo, a pink and blue thing that kept flickering in and out of visibility. Gibby was fighting the takeover.
“Sky-air-comb!” Frek urged his friend. “Diffuse the signal. Don’t give the esper any clear thoughts to latch onto. Focus on your self. You can do it, Gibby.” Frek laid his hand on Gibby’s scaly tail, willing strength into his friend. Gibby shuddered, struggling to keep the esper off. But his struggles were weakening; the pink halo looked nearly as real as Gibby’s brown skin.
“Let him alone,” Frek cried to Vlan. “Leave Gibby and Renata and our families out of it.”
“You got it,” said Vlan, and then made some slobbering, chirping noises for the benefit of Gibby’s halo. The pink bagel disappeared, and Frek could see Gibby becoming his old self. But for the moment, the Grulloo was too wrung-out to talk.
“Hella many fleshapoids,” continued Vlan. “Even if we spare a few. Eleven thousand Orpolese espers and five billion humans realtime census, tick-tick! Got a ten-percent subscription bump soon as we went live. Fat spike of flame-brains spinning toward Stun City, you understand. Everybody wants to see Frek make the walls come atumblin’ down. Blow your horn, baby. Squonk it. Me, I’m out of the picture for now. Bye-and-bye.”