The Secret Lives of Emails.docx

by A. J. Ramsey

  “No, but you’re probably just spam.”

  “Spam? What’s that?”

  “Junk e-mail, advertisements for things people would never buy unless they were tricked into it.” Brittany noticed Emal’s hurt expression and for once decided to soothe his feelings.

  “Look. I left out something earlier. We both carry messages like I said, but you’re actually a little more unique than the rest of us who had the awakening.”

  Emal perked up. Calling someone unique is the key to most people’s hearts, not cooking. People will eat almost anything.

  “Listen, you probably noticed that most of the people running around here are all a little different from each other,” Brittany said. “The ones dressed in simple running outfits are typically a mixture of picture and text data. Those dressed in more elaborate outfits, or what you might think of as costumes, are more complex information. They carry video or music streaming data. Of all the aware beings I know, we were all originally one of the high-level packets.”

  “But I was completely naked when I woke up?” Emal asked, perplexed.

  “Yes, I unfortunately remember it quite well. The people you see running around with no clothes are text-based communications. They are usually emails, of which the majority is spam, or they might be chat transcripts, or simple text files. They are the simplest of us all, and before you, not a single one has had an awakening.”

  Emal let this sink in for a bit. His nagging feelings that he was special were actually right. His face was beaming with pride as he embraced the knowledge. I’m the only one. I really am special.

  Brittany noticed Emal brighten at the information that he was unique. She felt a twinge of pleasure at making his day, but it was quickly replaced with a twinge of guilt.

  He has no idea what’s in store for him if he ever reaches his portal.

  An inconvenient meeting

  ~

  Brittany and Emal continued traveling through the tubes in silence now. There was a gentle buzz in the air from the light traffic that flowed around them, but any conversations between the pair had mostly died. Emal was too busy contemplating just how special he was turning out to be and what he might do about it.

  Being special comes with great responsibility. I must be careful not to brag about it. Note to self: avoid referring to myself as special anywhere but inside my own head. Don’t make the mistakes Kanye West has made.

  Brittany was thinking about how she would love to come across some water. A lake, a stream, or even a small puddle would be plenty. A combination of sweat and mold followed Emal everywhere like fleas following a pack of dachshunds. She was making plans to push him into the first bit of water they came across because she couldn’t handle his stench any longer.

  I don’t need to be gentle. He probably thinks I’m his mentor now, so I can just tell him it’s an initiation ritual. If I hold him under a little too long and he passes out, I can enjoy the silence.

  Their journey continued for hours as Brittany led them through tube after tube. I’ve decided we shall skip over the details of this portion of the journey for the sake of our short attention spans. And because nothing exciting happened.

  Soon enough for our purposes, they turned a corner in a nondescript tube, and both of our skirted adventurers halted and gasped at the beauty of what lay before them.

  Brittany and Emal saw something neither of them had seen before. And that’s saying something considering they are in the Internet. Directly ahead was an enormous pearly gate. The gate was large and wide, filling about half the width of the tube and reaching nearly to the top. To the sides of the gate, were evenly spaced golden shimmering bars with sculptures of different animals at their tops. Pouring out from behind the gate was a bright light that emitted a warmth upon their slack jawed faces. The light danced and flickered off the metal and illuminated large and small fluffy clouds that floated lazily in the air.

  “What is that?” Emal asked in awe.

  “One of the homes of He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named.”

  “Just one of them?”

  “Oh yes, I’ve been told he has dozens. He has taken over some old server farms and begun building sanctuaries for his animal friends. He has more homes in his other world as well.”

  “This place used to house servers? Where you said us messengers come from?”

  “This was one once. Probably for some defunct company whose bubble burst in the late nineties. There were a lot of those. I’ve seen my share of server farms though, and they don’t look like this.”

  Brittany walked up to the gate and knocked a rhythm on the hard metal. It was a rhythm she had been taught a long time ago by friends who had found her after she had her awakening. Brittany hadn’t before had the privilege to call on He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named, but she still remembered the correct pattern to knock.

  At least I didn’t get lost. Mentors are not supposed to get lost.

  It didn’t take long before a sea otter came floating out on a cloud of its own. A picture of serenity and calm, the animal lay on its back with its head slightly raised by some bumps in the cloud. It held its hands together at its chest like it had been in the middle of a deep meditation.

  “Good day, citizens of the Internet. The Verse. The Grand Series of Tubes. These things under Earth, which have been bestowed upon us by the one, the only He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named,” the sea otter spoke while he gestured slowly around.

  Brittany took a step back from the gate and gave a little curtsy to the sea otter and gestured for Emal to do the same. He hastily complied.

  “Oh, Grand Furry Master of the Sea. We, his children, seek an audience with He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named.”

  “Today is your lucky day, citizens. The one, the only, Creator is present at this sanctuary. He would be happy to receive your audience, and I believe he is expecting you. Know in your heart of hearts that He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named is always ready to hear the word of his children. Come. Come.”

  The sea otter gestured for them to come inside the now slowly opening gate. Low clouds parted ahead to reveal a yellow brick road that wound its way into the distance. While facing back towards Emal and Brittany, the sea otter floated ahead of them on a cloud. He resumed clasping his hands together and closed his eyes lazily. He looked like he could be asleep he was so relaxed.

  Social convention requires me to greet new people, Emal thought. He gave the creature an awkward, nervous little wave as they stepped onto the path and said, “My name’s Emal. What’s yours?”

  Brittany made a quick choking sound and elbowed Emal sharply in the ribs.

  “That’s rude. Names are volunteered, not asked.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since sea otters began floating on clouds.”

  Other than slowly beginning to rub his little paws together where he held them on his chest, the sea otter gave no indication that it had disturbed him.

  “It’s okay, daughter Brittany. I can see he is but a dayling. New not only to this world but also to our customs.” A moment of even more awkward silence passed until he spoke again. “I have decided he meant no offense, and I, therefore, will not throw him to the sharks,” he stated.

  Emal’s step faltered for a moment. He hadn’t thought the sea otter was contemplating a punishment for him. He glanced quickly around for said sharks and noticed that the edges of the yellow brick road dropped off into what appeared to be very deep and very blue water. Deep blue water that did, in fact, have fins cutting the surface only a few feet away from the path’s edge. He quickly moved toward the middle of the path where he bumped into Brittany coming from the other direction. She had noticed the fins as well, and after a quickly exchanged look, they decided to walk as close to one another as possible—right down the middle of the path. Brittany decided that perhaps Emal’s bath would wait.

  “The name is Clarence,” the sea otter said.

  “Clarence?” Brittany chuckled. “What kind . . .”

  “Yes?” aske
d Clarence. He was no longer moving along ahead of them but was stopped and staring intently at Brittany.

  “What kind . . . What kind of . . . Clarence is such a lovely name,” Brittany recovered.

  “Yes. I suppose it is,” Clarence said indifferently as he began to float up the path again.

  Brittany and Emal attempted to keep silent after that, but it proved to be difficult as they were constantly engaged in pleasantries from animals that kept popping up on the edge of the path.

  Dolphins swam next to them, surfacing to say hello and playfully spraying them with water. Whales splashed water across the path, accidentally it seemed, when they surfaced to say hello. Even the sharks they had previously been threatened with surfaced with toothy grins to growl a greeting. The walk became a repeated scene of Emal and Brittany jumping away in shock every time an animal surfaced and then attempting to recover their dignity by apologizing for being startled and responding with pleasant tones of salutation.

  After a few miles of walking, the path was no longer surrounded by water, but the sand of a beach. The beach was short and the path led to some open fields with grazing animals of all kinds. He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named really is a friend to all animals, Emal thought to himself. This place is like his own private ark. I wonder if I should be aware of any impending floods. Maybe this will become a post-apocalyptic story. A few more miles and they were now surrounded by thick trees that bent over the path in places. More animals, bears and fox and wolves, jogged along with them for a while. Brittany began to suspect that they didn’t get that many visitors as she and Emal seemed to be a freak show of sorts.

  Eventually the forest opened up to reveal an enormous manicured lawn. The lawn was hopping mad with hundreds of rabbits wearing little red sashes as they attended to the elaborate hedges with their teeth. The hedges and lawn stretched for as far as they could see, and it surrounded an enormous palace that sat slightly elevated on a small hill. The palace was a white marble structure with an open front entrance that was supported by fifty-feet-tall white columns. In between the columns hung twenty-five-foot long banners of red silk that portrayed selfies of He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named.

  Brittany and Emal shivered involuntarily at the images and were once again struck dumb by the enormity of it all.

  “You may enter at your leisure,” Clarence said calmly as he allowed Brittany and Emal to wander past him.

  How does one get rabbits to agree to be their gardener? Emal wondered.

  I’m pretty sure one of those selfies was taken in the shower, Brittany thought.

  Clarence cleared his throat from behind them.

  “Oh my, I’m so sorry,” Brittany said as she hurried over to where Clarence lounged a few feet away.

  Brittany and Clarence performed a complicated clapping game while singing “Pat-a-cake, Pat-a-cake, Baker’s Man.” Satisfied, Clarence floated off into the distance.

  “Well,” Brittany said after a deep breath. “We should go in.”

  “Yes,” Emal said.

  Neither of them moved, and instead, they gawked at the surroundings. The rabbits hopped back and forth going about their work in an apparent hurry.

  “Well,” Brittany said, turning to Emal, “lead the way.”

  “Oh no,” Emal said, “this was your idea. I’d never even heard of the guy. This is your bizarre party.”

  “Fine, coward,” Brittany said and hesitantly started walking toward the steps of the great building.

  They walked through the magnificent hedges and yard, going up a few dozen poorly spaced stairs to the giant open doorway. Brittany took another deep breath and strode into the building with her head held high. They were treated to another amazing sight when they saw that the interior was one large open room with a great golden dome. Stone work with elaborate carvings adorned every inch of the palace from floor to ceiling. As Emal and Brittany spun in circles, awe struck, a booming voice called out to them.

  “Who calls on me this fine day?”

  Brittany and Emal spun in the direction of the voice and saw more marble steps about fifty feet away that led up to a large raised platform. At the top of the platform sat a throne, and in that throne sat He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named. Or perhaps it might be more accurate to say that he was crouching, slightly turned away from them, slightly bent over at the waist, and naked as the day he was born. Assuming that he needed to be born at all and hadn’t simply always been there.

  He sat with his chin perched on his fist, deep in thought. Emal and Brittany made their way to the base of the stairs, and Brittany spoke for them.

  “It is us, oh Creator. Brittany and Emal. Two of your children,” she said with another curtsy, which Emal imitated quite well this time.

  “Welcome, my children. Tell me. Did you pay Clarence his toll?”

  “Oh yes,” Brittany said quickly. “We paid quite happily.”

  “Good, good,” He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named said. “He can get rather cranky if people don’t play with him on occasion. Don’t let that relaxed demeanor fool you. He could quite easily tear your face off or feed you to the sharks, or do both. Though, I suppose sharks do need to eat, don’t they?”

  “Yes, yes, Creator,” Brittany said. “Sharks do need to eat.”

  “Tell me, children. How did you travel here today?”

  “Ummm . . . we walked, sir,” Brittany said.

  “I see. I see. I suppose that is the only way, isn’t it? Personally, I prefer to travel by private jet, but these tubes are quite small, aren’t they? I suppose I should have made them bigger,” he said with a chuckle. “I wonder if someone might make me a smaller jet that would work in these tiny tubes . . .” he said, his voice trailing off.

  “Excuse me, sir, but I have an extremely important matter to discuss with you today,” Brittany said quietly.

  “Extremely important you say?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s just that . . . well it’s just . . .”

  “Spit it out, child. You can speak freely here. Did you wish to speak about global warming?”

  “Not today. This is a more pressing matter. There are people violating your laws of creation.”

  “Is that so?” He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named said calmly.

  “I don’t know exactly who, sir, though I have my suspicions, but someone is building new walls within the tubes. They are creating restrictions on traffic and blocking certain places all together,” Brittany said quickly.

  “New walls you say? Did they use organized labor?” he asked, not moving from his thinking position.

  “Ummm . . . I couldn’t say. I’ve only come upon already finished walls. I have heard construction noises but haven’t been able to locate the source.”

  “I see. Do you know anyone who might be able to build me a smaller jet plane? For easier travel in the tubes of course. I do need to travel quite a bit. I have many talks to give on global warming and saving the environment. I must have my jet plane for that. It would be so convenient here in the tubes instead of all this walking.”

  “Yes . . . I’m sure it would be convenient, sir,” Brittany said slowly as she glanced back at Emal with a puzzled expression. Emal simply shrugged his shoulders. Like I told her, I don’t know this guy. Though, he seems to be really into planes.

  “Sir, what about the walls being built? There are people violating the neutrality of the Internet. They are taking the free and open nature of the tubes and creating narrow openings that limit traffic. They are blocking access entirely to certain areas. Someone is consolidating power.”

  “Do you think they are expelling carbon waste?” he asked, seemingly suddenly interested.

  “Of course they are,” Brittany said angrily. “Everyone is to some degree, aren’t they?”

  “Oh yes,” he said, subdued again. “That is the problem, isn’t it? We are always expelling carbon and creating a dangerous world for our fellow animals. Such a shame really. If only everyone would buy my books and attend my lectures, then we could all understan
d. Children, do you want to buy some carbon offsets today?”

  “What’s that?” Emal asked.

  “They are wonderful things to help us save the planet. Since we all emit carbon dioxide, which is the environment killer, carbon offsets allow us to quite literally offset that waste and balance our emissions. It will quite literally save the planet. You must buy some. I sell them, you see.”

  He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named was now pacing with excitement on top of his high tower.

  Clearly, this is what he wants to talk about, Emal thought.

  “I have the honor to travel around the world giving talks on this global warming threat to the uneducated. I then sell the carbon offsets to eliminate the guilt these people have in their lives for the cars they drive, the plane rides they take, and the fuel they burn. After my expenses to maintain my fleet of planes and homes, we use those carbon offsets people purchased to help save the environment. Exciting stuff, isn’t it?”

  “But what are they?” Emal asked again, quite confused by all this. “People buy carbon offsets from you; you pay yourself money for managing them, and then what? What does that do for the environment?”

  “My poor boy, you don’t understand, do you? The offsets do just what they say. They offset the carbon you burn and save the environment.”

  “But how? What does a carbon offset do?”

  “Well, nothing. I mean . . . well, sometimes we plant trees and stuff to offset the carbons, and . . . and . . . we give lectures on saving the environment,” He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Named said, confused himself now, for he didn’t understand what this skirted little man didn’t understand.

  “HEY!” Brittany yelled out. “Who gives a shit? Don’t you realize we are talking about the end of the Internet as we know it? These people are just slowing up traffic today, but I can guarantee you that they want to do a lot more. They are worse than the mob. They’ll start doing shake downs, but they’ll be protected. If they get away with this, they will start building toll roads and dictating who can go where. They will be able to give premium access to people who pay the big money, and all the little guys will have the scraps. The Internet is under threat. It is being taken over!”