A Toaster on Mars

by Darrell Pitt

  Elvis went on to explain that he had been about to head upstairs to catch some shut-eye when he’d heard an odd sound behind him. He’d turned to see a small black hole appear in the air on the far side of his kitchen. Within seconds it had taken up half the room, and then a man in a laboratory coat had stepped out, clapping his hands in delight.

  ‘Hello, 1977. Goodbye, 2082.’

  Elvis had been so surprised he dropped his deep-fried peanut-butter sandwich. ‘Who in tarnation are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m Professor John Galwick and I’m here to save you.’

  ‘From what?’

  ‘From yourself.’

  Galwick explained that he had come from the future in a time machine of his own invention to save the king of rock ’n’ roll because he didn’t have long to live.

  When Elvis asked, he wouldn’t say how long.

  Zeeb says:

  Time travel is, of course, illegal. There are serious punishments, depending on what part of the galaxy you happen to reside in. For example, anyone found tampering with the laws of time on Elidor Minor is punished by a thousand years in the Toovian sludge pits before being drawn and quartered.

  Of course, punishments don’t stop people from breaking the law. Many individuals have tried to tamper with time over the years, but it always ends in disaster.

  On Earth, so many people have tried to save John F. Kennedy from being assassinated that at one point the former president was found to be both travelling in the motorcade in Dallas and shooting at himself from the nearby grassy knoll.

  Likewise, multitudes have tried to kill Hitler. In one parallel timeline the Führer ended up becoming a female singer and performing ‘We’ll Meet Again’ before Winston Churchill at 10 Downing Street in the middle of World War II.

  You can see why it’s best to leave things as they are.

  ‘I can offer you salvation,’ Professor Galwick had explained to Elvis.

  ‘You mean like Jesus?’

  ‘Better than Jesus.’

  ‘No one’s better than Jesus,’ Elvis said. ‘Except, maybe, Little Richard.’

  The plan was simple—or, at least, simple to someone travelling backwards in time from the year 2082. Galwick wanted to scan Elvis’s body and take a DNA sample. After returning to his own time, he would introduce Elvis to a whole new generation.

  As Elvis saw it, he didn’t have too many choices—especially if he was about to become a lead singer with the band upstairs.

  So John Galwick scanned Elvis with his Hyper-Tensile DNA Reader. After taking the sample, Galwick produced a copy using a portable matter creation synthesiser, and Elvis soon found himself staring at his naked doppelgänger.

  ‘I’ve never looked better,’ Elvis said.

  The Hyper-Tensile DNA Reader had recreated his body just as it would have been without all the deep-fried peanut-butter sandwiches and prescription drugs.

  ‘I feel better,’ Elvis Two had said, staring in amazement at himself. ‘Like I could live forever.’

  ‘And you will,’ Galwick said.

  ‘Sounds like a good deal all round,’ the real Elvis said, rubbing his stomach. He let out an unruly burp. ‘Pardon me, folks. I might go upstairs. I’m feeling a mite poorly.’

  ‘A trip to the bathroom might be in order,’ Galwick gently suggested.

  ‘I might just do that.’

  ‘Then we’ll be on our way.’

  They said their goodbyes, and Galwick and the clone skipped back to the 21st century while Elvis hobbled up to the bathroom to claim his throne for the final time.

  The rest is history. Or should have been.

  ‘I remember reading about the Elvis craze in the history books,’ Blake said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. ‘There were said to be upwards of a million Elvises on Earth.’

  ‘There were more,’ Elvis said. ‘Many more. Eventually, we were herded up like hound dogs and brought here.’ He paused. ‘That’s a little Elvis humour for you.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s great. Where is here, exactly?’

  ‘We call it Elvisworld,’ Elvis said. ‘But it’s actually an inter-dimensional pocket in time and space.’

  ‘We need to get back home,’ Astrid told him, and explained about Lisa’s kidnapping and their need to break into GADO.

  ‘I’d love to help you people,’ Elvis said, ‘but I don’t know how. If we could leave here, we would.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve been working on this,’ Nicki said. ‘I think there is a way out.’

  ‘We’ll do everything we can,’ Elvis said, giving Astrid a small smile. ‘Though I gotta admit, little lady, I’m kinda stuck on you.’ He paused again. ‘That’s Elvis humour, with a touch of flirting.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Mr Elvis.’

  ‘Just call me Elvis. All my friends do.’

  ‘Talking about your friends,’ Blake interrupted. ‘How many of you are there?’

  ‘I’m not rightly sure,’ Elvis said. ‘All the different types are here.’

  ‘The different types?’ Astrid repeated.

  ‘There have been lots of mutations since we arrived,’ Elvis said vaguely. He turned to Nicki. ‘Do you think we could leave too?’

  ‘If we can, you can,’ Nicki said. ‘But aren’t you happy here?’

  ‘We’re not unhappy. But we’d love to see what Earth is like now. Especially if it’s part of some intergalactic club. It’s fair to say we’d like to return to sender.’

  Elvis winked.

  Leaving the valley, they followed a trail towards a town on the coast. Here people worked in the fields, planting crops and harvesting grain. They were all different kinds of Elvises. Fat Elvis, thin Elvis, tall and short Elvis, male and—

  ‘What the sprot?’ Blake exclaimed.

  A woman gave them a wave from a doorway.

  ‘Like I said,’ Elvis said. ‘Mutations.’

  There were people who looked a lot like Elvis—and plenty who only slightly resembled the King. Blake began to think of their Elvis as Woodsman Elvis.

  Fifteen minutes later, they reached a town. ‘We’re going to see the King of Kings,’ Woodsman Elvis explained.

  ‘God?’ Nicki asked. ‘Good. There’s some stuff I want to complain about. Hunger, pestilence, drought—’

  ‘No, no. The king of Elvisworld.’

  ‘So where do we find him?’ Blake asked.

  ‘Just down the end here.’ Elvis motioned to a sign that read Lonely Street. ‘At the Heartbreak Hotel.’

  Another wink.

  Blake sidled up to Nicki. ‘I’m not sure how much more of this I can take,’ he murmured.

  ‘What’s wrong with you, Blake?’ Nicki asked. ‘What have you got? A wooden heart? Get it? Wooden heart?’

  ‘I’m in hell,’ Blake groaned. ‘Elvis hell.’

  At the hotel, another Elvis clone led them to a penthouse overlooking the coastline. The ocean was sparkling blue. A school of animals that looked like dolphins—only with six fins—frolicked in the water. Seagulls as big as albatross dived for fish in the ocean.

  Elvisworld was one of the more genial places Blake had seen. The world had been selected to imprison the Elvis population, but not to kill them off.

  Still, Blake thought. Marooning these people here for all eternity is cruel no matter how you swing it.

  The king of Elvisworld sported a handlebar moustache. ‘Howdy, folks,’ he said. ‘It’s nice to see a new face for a change.’

  Blake explained their dilemma.

  ‘So what can we do?’ the king asked.

  ‘I have a plan,’ Nicki said. ‘I’ve identified an exit portal off the coast. We can use it to return to Earth.’

  ‘I’ve never seen any sort of portal,’ the king said.

  ‘It can only be opened under the right circumstances,’ Nicki told him. ‘A sonic resonance blast would force it open long enough for us to jump through and return.’

  ‘How do we make this blast?’ Woodsman Elvis asked.

  Nicki
explained.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ Blake groaned.

  Later that afternoon, they all assembled on a cliff overlooking the coast. A stiff wind blew sea spray onto Blake’s face as he peered over the edge. Hundreds of feet below he spotted a rocky platform.

  Blake swallowed. If this plan doesn’t work, there’ll be no second chances.

  Speaking of second chances, his gaze crossed to Astrid. Woodsman Elvis seemed to have taken a real liking to her. Blake drew her aside.

  ‘How’re you coping?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine.’ They had been married long enough for her to know when something was up. She peered at Blake suspiciously. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Elvis seems to have taken a shine to you.’

  ‘He has a certain attraction to me,’ she admitted. ‘He describes it as a kind of burning love.’

  She stifled a laugh.

  ‘Astrid,’ Blake said. ‘Think of what you’re doing. You can’t just go batting your pretty eyes at every Elvis that comes along.’

  ‘Jealous?’

  He didn’t reply. He was jealous. Old feelings died hard and it wasn’t easy seeing his ex-wife being wooed by one of history’s greatest performers.

  ‘Just don’t start anything you can’t finish.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she promised. ‘But you know how it is. Sometimes you just can’t help falling in love.’

  ‘Dear God…’ Blake peered up at the sky. ‘Take me now. Please.’

  Over the next hour, thousands of Elvises gathered at the headland. The king had sent the word out and the people had answered. Blake hoped Nicki’s plan was not just a figment of her mechanised imagination.

  ‘Are you sure this is going to work?’ he asked her.

  ‘We’ve got a seventy-thirty chance.’

  ‘A seventy per cent chance of survival?’

  ‘Um…’

  ‘Forget I asked.’

  Woodsman Elvis gave Astrid a kiss on the cheek. As he gently released her hand, he gave Blake a guilty look. ‘Just saying goodbye to a beautiful woman,’ he explained.

  ‘That’s fine,’ Blake said. He didn’t have anything against Elvis. He’d gone out of his way to help them, and Blake wanted the best for him. ‘I want to thank you for everything.’

  ‘You’re welcome, partner,’ Woodsman Elvis said. ‘And you’ve shown us a way out too.’ They shook hands. ‘Thank you—thank you very much.’

  The king quietened the crowd as Nicki climbed onto a high rock to speak. The numbers had swelled in the last few minutes and there were now tens of thousands of Elvises spread all the way into town and onto the beach. Blake felt unnerved seeing so many versions of the same face.

  ‘We are going to need a High C!’ Nicki yelled to those who could hear her. ‘And you need to sustain it for as long as possible!’

  The instruction spread through the crowd like a wave.

  Nicki climbed down from the rock and the king took her place.

  ‘We’re going to send our guests off in style,’ he said, raising an arm. ‘You heard the lady. High C for as long as we can hold it. On a count of three. One…two…’

  He dropped his arm.

  ‘Three!’

  ‘Ahhhhhhhhh!’

  The wall of sound struck Blake. He peered over the edge of the cliff. Nothing was happening. Nicki signalled to the king to increase the volume—and within seconds the sound grew deafening.

  Gripping Blake’s arm, Nicki pointed at a spot fifty feet below where a swirling mist had begun to form. A black line appeared in the middle.

  ‘It’s working!’ Blake shouted. He nodded encouragement to the king and the sound grew even louder.

  The hole widened. Grabbing Astrid and Nicki, Blake led them to the edge. If they missed the hole, they would plummet to their deaths. Blake swallowed the lump in his throat.

  How do I get into these situations?

  Taking a deep breath, he prepared to jump. Then, remembering some unfinished business, he turned back to Woodsman Elvis.

  ‘It’s now or never!’ Blake cried. ‘Get it? It’s now or never!’

  They jumped.

  22

  ‘Here’s your chicken,’ Badde said peevishly. ‘The Game Prism’s on order. It won’t arrive till Friday.’

  Lisa sighed. ‘I suppose that’ll have to do.’

  A whole day had passed and Lisa was starving. She had even begun to wonder if Badde had abandoned her. She ate three pieces of chicken without looking up once. Finally, chewing on a drumstick, she noticed Badde staring at her through the bars.

  ‘Do you want some?’ she offered. ‘There’s plenty.’

  ‘No, thanks,’ Badde said. ‘I’m trying to watch my weight. Evil geniuses always have to look their best.’

  ‘For when you get caught?’

  ‘I won’t get caught. Nobody knows my real name or what I look like.’

  ‘Bartholomew Badde isn’t your real name?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I needed something catchy, something that would roll off the tongue, something that would resonate with the newsreaders, and my real name wasn’t it.’

  Lisa took a sip of Hypergo. ‘So what’s happening in the outside world?’

  ‘The usual. Delgar Five won the Interleague Baseball Pennant. The president of Rastarus has resigned due to corruption charges.’

  ‘So nothing’s changed.’

  ‘Not really,’ he agreed. ‘There’s one odd story, though—a fifty-foot cheese sandwich is rampaging through the lower east side of Neo City.’

  ‘No kidding?’ Lisa’s eyes angled to the single window. It looked like it was getting dark out there. ‘Only in Neo City.’

  An agreeable silence played out between them. Badde had seemed like a badass in the beginning when he made her watch the Brady Bunch episodes, but now he seemed almost companionable.

  ‘You could always let me go,’ Lisa said.

  ‘I could, but I won’t. You’re a very small but important cog in my plans to destroy the human race. While my actions have resulted in terrible destruction over the years, I’ve never actually caused the ruination of an entire planet. Can you imagine how I’ll be remembered?’

  ‘As a fruitcake?’

  He ignored her. ‘When I’m done, they will speak about Earth in glowing terms: of the rise of life here, the evolution of the human species, the development of civilisation, and then—kapow!’

  ‘Kapow?’

  ‘The end of the world.’ Badde sniffed. ‘Doesn’t happen every day.’

  Lisa frowned. ‘Why do you do such awful things?’

  ‘It’s a long and involved story,’ Badde said, not meeting her eye now. ‘I’m just made that way.’

  ‘That’s a load of sprot! You can choose to be whoever you want!’

  Oh God, Lisa thought. I sound just like my mother!

  ‘You don’t have to be an evil villain,’ she continued. ‘What if you used your superpowers for good rather than evil?’

  ‘I don’t have any superpowers.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ Lisa said. ‘What made you become a villain?’

  ‘A terrible childhood. I was beaten and made to eat rats for dinner.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No, I just like being evil.’

  Badde seemed ready to keep talking, but then he froze. For a full five seconds he stared blankly into space, as if listening to some inner voice. Finally he broke out of it and glared at her.

  ‘I don’t have to answer your questions,’ he said. ‘You’re the hostage and I’m the, er, hostage-taker.’

  ‘I was only trying—’

  He strode to the door. ‘We shouldn’t become too friendly.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If your father doesn’t retrieve Maria for me, I’ll be forced to hurt you,’ he said. ‘Badly.’ He paused. ‘No pun intended.’

  After he had left, Lisa sat in the silent cell, a cold piece of chicken in her hand.

  Oh dear, she thought. This mi
ght get really grim. He might even have episodes of Gungler’s Planet.

  Zeeb says:

  Gungler’s Planet is probably the worst television show ever made. It’s about a family travelling through space to start a new life on a distant planet, but they end up crashing somewhere. There is only one type of food available: small, red berries they imaginatively christen ‘the red berries’.

  Every day is spent searching for the berries. Each and every day. Day after day. There are no monsters on the planet. There are no alien visitors or ancient civilisations or cool spaceships they can use to escape. It’s simply a big, dusty planet with the occasional cluster of berries. No one dies. No one even gets sick.

  After a while, viewers hated the show so much they started sending letters to the network demanding the torture and death of the main characters.

  Despite all this, it was strangely addictive. People found they could not stop themselves from watching the program. Some people even recorded it so they wouldn’t miss an episode. In the end the show was cancelled—not because of low ratings, but because it was causing so many brain seizures.

  That hasn’t stopped its ongoing success. It’s always in syndication. Somewhere.

  I’ve got to get out of here, Lisa thought.

  Discarding the chicken, she began searching her cell for a way out. It didn’t take long. The floor was concrete. Building materials had come a long way, but good old-fashioned concrete just seemed to stick around. Using her fingernails, she could probably scratch a tunnel through in about a century.

  The ceiling looked the same, but she shinnied up the bars and checked the roof anyway. Sprot! She tried shaking the bars. They didn’t budge. Unless she grew metal teeth, there was no way to get through.

  This left only the back wall.

  Lisa tapped the wall. Surprisingly, it sounded hollow. She glanced back towards the door. Hiding an enormous hole wouldn’t be easy. Shame she didn’t have a painting to hang over it. If only there was a way for it not to be seen…

  Peering under the bed, she realised there was enough room for her to slide under. Each time Badde had come to her cell, she had heard his footsteps echoing down the corridor. It took the best part of thirty seconds. That would be long enough to jump back onto the bed and start filing her nails or humming a happy tune.