by Bill Fawcett
The slit above the controls showed him that dim-lit tunnel. He sat before it, grasped the levers to either side, and pushed them forward quite carefully. The tank cranked, then coughed, then clanked into motion. Warily, though, Father Vidicon held its speed to crawling, not much faster than he could walk. His gain was that he could travel sitting down, but in truth 'twas the thrill of adventure in operation a device hitherto unknown.
So he went grinding down that tunnel, allowing a little more speed, then a little more, until he was traveling at a pace quite decent— 'til a sudden crash did sound upon his right and the tank did slew about. At once Father Vidicon did throttle down and the tank slowed dutifully—but slewed as it slowed, and Father Vidicon realized that he swinging about and about in a circle.
He pulled back on the levers, killed the engine, then clambered out of the hatch, setting foot down onto the right tread—and found nothing there beneath his step. He froze, then levered himself up and about to climb down the left-hand tread instead, then walked around the machine and saw that the right-hand tread was gone indeed. Looking back down the tunnel, he saw it lying like a length of limber lumber on the ground. Frowning then, he came close and sat upon his heels to study the end, and saw where the connection had broken, crystallized metal fractured, as indeed it might have if this Sherman tank had really sat in wait through six decades. " 'Nature always sides with the hidden flaw,' " he mused, then stiffened, remembering that he quoted a corollary of Murphy's Law. Yet he had defeated Murphy—so which of his henchmen had engineered this mishap?
Or was it a henchman? It might well have been a monstrosity quite equal, for Murphy's Law was itself a corollary of Finagle's General Statement, and many were the minions of Finagle.
Suspending judgment, the Blessed One rose to stand and turned his face ahead. Onward he strode down the tunnel.
Then came he to a bank of recorders whose reels spun two-inch tape. He frowned, remembering such things from his youth, but finding no television cameras or control chains nearby—but his eye did light upon an antique electric typewriter without a platen. "A computer terminal!" he cried in delight, and went to sit by the console and log on.
Behind him reels did hum, and he froze, reminding himself that he dealt with a device unknown. Casually, then, he typed in a program he knew well—but when he directed the computer to run, the reels spun only for a minute before the printer chattered. Looking over to it, he saw the words, "Error on Line 764"—but the type-ball flew on until it had drawn a picture in marks of punctuation. Peering closer, Father Vidicon beheld the image of a beetle. "It doth generate bugs!" quoth he, then realized that he was in a realm in which any device would have a hidden flaw.
Rising from that place, he resolved most sternly that he would ignore any other device he found, and onward marched.
Full ten minutes did he stride before a doorway blocked his path, and a lighted panel lit above it in the yellow-lettered word rehearsal. The Blessed One's pulse did quicken, resolution forgotten, for in life he had been a video engineer, and he quite clearly did approach a television studio much like the one in which he first had learned to operate camera, in the days of his youth.
He wondered if he should enter, but saw no reason not to, if the souls within were only in rehearsal. He hauled open the sand-filled door, discovering a small chamber six feet square with a similar door set opposite him and another in its side, as a proper sound lock should have. He closed the door behind him carefully, so that sound might not be admitted, then opened the door to the side and stepped into the control room.
It lay in gloom, with three tiers of seats rising, all facing bank upon bank of monitors—the first tier of seats for the engineers, the second for the switcher, director, and assistant director, and the third for observers. Each position sat in its own pool of light from tiny spotlights hung above.
None were peopled. He stood alone.
Looking out through the control room window, he saw the studio likewise unpeopled, but the huge old monochrome cameras aimed at easels, each with a stack of pictures. Even as he watched, the tally light on Camera One went out as its mate atop Camera Two came on, and on Camera One's easel, one picture fell to the floor, revealing another behind it.
Father Vidicon frowned; it was clearly an automatic studio, and even more clearly a temptation. Still, he saw no harm in it, and since the studio blocked the tunnel, it had to be navigated—so he sat down before the switched, smiling fondly as he saw only a preview bank, two mixing banks, and a downstream key cluster; the memories that it evoked were dear.
But he could not wallow long in nostalgia, for a voice called from the intercom, "Air in five . . . four . . . three . . ."
Quickly, the saint split the faders and went to black.
" . . . two . . . one . . . You're on!" the voice cried.
Father Vidicon faded in Camera One, seeing a vision of St. Mark's Plaza appear on the program monitor as a mellow voice began to narrate a travelogue. Father Vidicon glanced at Camera Two's monitor, saw a close-up of the gilded lion, and readied a finger over the button "Two" on the air bank. As the voice began to speak of the lion, he punched the button, and the close-up of the lion appeared on program. Grinning then, he began to fall into the old rhythm of a program, taking from one detail to another, then seeing a photograph of a gondola on a canal and dissolving to it.
Just as the picture became clear though, the picture fluxed, shrinking, then expanding, then shrinking to die. Instantly did Father Vidicon dissolve back to Camera One—and it too bloomed and died.
"Telecine!" he roared, that his voice might be heard through the director's headset (since he wore none). "Trouble slide!"
And Lo! The telecine screen lit with a picture of an engineer enwrapped in layers of videotape as he spooled frantically through an antique videotape recorder, attempting to clear a jam. It was a still picture only, so Father Vidicon leaned back with a sigh, then rose on rather wobbly legs. "I should have known," he muttered, "should have remembered." Then he walked, though rather unsteadily, back into the sound lock, then on into the studio. Around the cameras he went and drew aside the heavy velvet drape that hid the back wall—and sure enough, it had hidden also the double door to the scenery storage room. He hauled open portal, stepped in among the ranked flats, threaded his way through piled sofas and stacked chairs, and found the entry door beyond. He opened it, stepped through, and found himself back in the dim light of the maroon tunnel. He set off again, mouth in a grim line, for, said he unto himself, "Now, then, we know which minion of Finagle's we shall face"—for surely there could be no doubt who sided with the hidden flaw, who made machinery fail in crucial moments, who was attracted to devices more strongly as they became more complicated, and it was not Nature.
And Lo! The monster did approach—or, more precisely, the Saint did approach the monster, who smiled as he saw the Blessed One approach, glanced down to make a check mark on his clipboard, then looked up again to grin—or his lips did; Father Vidicon could not see his eyes, since they were shadowed by a visor of green, and his face that of a gnome, not a man. He wore a shirt that was striped and held by sleeve-garters, its collar tightened by a necktie, though over it he was clothed in coveralls (but they were pin-striped), and he left hand bore socket wrenches in place of fingers. Clean-shaven he was, and round-faced, smiling with delight full cynical, the whiles his right hand did play upon a keyboard.
Then Father Vidicon did halt some paces distant, filled with wariness, and declared, "I know thee, Spirit—for thou art the Gremlin!"
"I do not make policy," the creature replied, "I only execute it."
"Seek not to deceive!" Father Vidicon rebuked. "Thou art the one who dost seek to find the hidden flaw and doom all human projects."
" 'Tis in the nature of humans to bring it out," the Gremlin retorted. "I only execute what they themselves have overlooked."
"Wouldst thou have me believe 'tis Nature who doth side with the hidden flaw, though well we kn
ow that Nature makes not machines?"
"Nature sides with me," the Gremlin returned. "Canst thou blame me for the nurture of the natural?"
" 'Tis not Nature thou dost serve, but Entropy!"
"What else?" the spirit jibed. "Humans seek to build, when 'tis the way of Nature to fall apart."
"Only in its season," Father Vidicon admonished, "when the time of growth is behind."
"Not so," the Gremlin answered, "if the flaw's inherent in the newborn creature. Thus only when it doth come to maturity doth its undoing become manifest."
"And what of those whose flaws emerge before they're grown?"
The Gremlin shrugged. "Then they never come to the age at which they can build, and only looking backward can they see a life worth living."
"Thou dost lie, thou rogue," Father Vidicon said sternly, "for that cannot be behind which is before!"
"Oh, so? Hast thou, then, heard never of the Mule?" The Gremlin's hand did beat upon the keyboard, and letters of a glowing green did glimmer in the gloaming 'fore his face: "boot mule." Father Vidicon did step back with a presentiment of foreboding; then the words did vanish, and beside the Gremlin stood a stocky quadruped, with longish ears laid back, teeth parting in a bray.
"I should have thought," the priest did breathe. "This is the beast most susceptible to thee, for 'tis also the most contrary; when we most wish it to work, it will not."
"All who will not work are with me," the Gremlin answered, "as are those who, in the name of standing firm, give way to stubbornness." He reached out to stroke the beast, and chanted,
"The mule, we find,
Hath two legs behind,
And two we find before.
We stand behind before we find
What the two behind be for."
* * *
And the Saint did find the mule's tail confronting him, and the hooves kicked up and lashed out at his head. But St. Vidicon did bow, and the feet flashed by above. "Affront me not," quoth he, "for I do know this beast hath fallibility."
"Then make use of it," the Gremlin counseled, "for he doth set himself again."
'Twas true, the mule did once again draw up his hooves to kick. Father Vidicon did therefore run around the beast up toward his head.
But, "What's before, and what's behind?" the Gremlin cried. "Behold, I give the beast his head, and he doth lose it! For if we know what that behind be for, then assuredly, what's behind's before!"
Father Vidicon did straighten up before the mule's head—and found it was a tail, with hooves beneath that did lash out.
"Surely in his stubbornness," the Gremlin said, "the mule has lost his head!"
The good priest did shout as he did leap aside, quickly, but not quite quickly enough, and a hoof did crack upon his shoulder, and pain shot through his whole side. He cried out, but his cry was lost in the Gremlin's laughter, which did echo all about.
"Thou canst not escape," the spirit cried with gloating glee, "for if thou dost run around the beast, thou wilt but find what thou hast lost!"
Hooves slashed out again, and the priest did throw himself upon the ground. The mule's feet whistled through the air above him, then drew back to stand, and began to hobble toward him.
"Come, come!" the Gremlin cried. "Thine heart was ever in thy work! Wouldst thou now lie about and trouble others? Wouldst thou be underfoot?"
But the priest had scrambled to his feet, a-running, and heard the thunderous echo of galloping hooves behind. At a thought, however, he turned back. "Two backward sets both running must go against each other; they thereby must stand in place!"
Assuredly, the poor beast did; for each pair of legs, in leaping forward, did naught but counter the other's thrust.
"Let it not trouble thee," the Gremlin counseled, "for I've held him close thus far—yet now I'll give the beast his head!"
Father Vidicon knew then that he had but a moment to draw upon the strength of Him to Whom he was in all ways dedicated; and holding up his hands to Heaven, he did pray, "Good Father, now forgive! That in my pride I did think myself equipped to defeat the Finder of Flaws. Lend me, I pray Thee, some tool that will find and hinder all bugs that this creature doth engender!"
Of a sudden, his hands weighed heavy. Looking there, he found a halter.
A bray recalled him to his conflict, and he saw the mule's tail grow dim, then harden again to show forequarters topped by a head that did reach out, teeth sharp to bite, as the mule leaped forward.
Father Vidicon shouted and spun aside, flailing at the mule with the halter—and sure enough it caught. The mule swerved and reared, braying protest, but Father Vidicon did hold fast to reins and turn the mule toward its master, then leaping to its back. Still under the Gremlin's mandate to attack, it galloped ahead, teeth reaching for its master.
"How now!" the creature screeched, drumming at its keyboard. "How canst thou turn my own artifact against me?"
The mule disappeared, leaving the saint to plummet toward the floor, the halter still in his hand—but he landed lightly.
"Thou didst expect that fall!" the Gremlin accused. "How couldst thou have known?'
"Why, by preparing 'gainst every eventuality," the Saint replied, "then expecting some other malfunction that I could not name, because I had not thought of it."
"Thou dost not mean thou didst expect the unexpected!"
"Surely, for I have always expected thee, since first I learned to program Cobol." The Saint advanced, holding out the halter. "Know that with my Master's power, these straps can harness any who their energy expend." Then he advanced, the halter outheld.
"Thou dost speak of those who embody Entropy," the Gremlin protested, and did back away.
" 'Tis even so," the Saint replied, "for to live is to expend energy, but to grow is to gain structure."
"You are not fool enough to think to reverse entropy!" the Gremlin cried, still backing.
"Only for some little while," the Saint replied, "but each little while added to another can constitute a lifetime entire."
"Yet in the end your race shall die! In mere billions of years, your sun shall explode, and all will end in fire! Thus all is futile, all is done in vain, all's absurd!"
"Yet while life endures, it contradicts absurdity—if it has structure." Father Vidicon relaxed the halter, then swung it at the Gremlin to ensnare.
The Gremlin wailed and winked out as though he'd never been.
Father Vidicon stared at the place where he had been and bethought him somberly, "He is not truly gone, but will recur wheresoever people try to build—for against such as him we struggle to find meaning." Then he looked down at the halter, contemplating it a moment before he held it high in offering. "O Father, I thank Thee for giving Thine overweening servant the means to banish this Foe of Humankind, no matter how briefly. I return unto Thee the Halter Thou hast lent me to rein in our impulses of self defeat, for the use of which I thank Thee deeply."
For half a minute, then, the halter began to glow, then scintillated as it vanished.
The Blessed One stood alone, reflecting that once again he was unarmed; but he recalled the words of the psalm and murmured them aloud: " 'For Thou, O God, art my wisdom and my strength.' Nay, I shall never lack for defense within this realm, so long as Thou art with me."
So saying, he strode forth once more, further downward in that tunnel, wondering what other foe the Lord might send him to confront.
As Father Vidicon strode onward down the throat of Hell, he was resolved to confront whatsoever the Good Lord did oppose to him. Even as he went, the maroon of the walls did darken to purple and farther, till he did pace a corridor of indigo. Then the light itself began to dwindle and to darken, until he groped within a lightless place. Terror did well up within him, turning all his joints to water and sapping strength from every limb, yet he did resolve upon the onward march, rebuked his heart most sternly, and held the fear within its place. He did reach out to brace himself against the wall—yet it was damp and soft
and yielding, and did seem to move beneath his palm. He did pull his hand away right quickly and did shudder, and was nigh to losing heart then; yet he did haul his courage up from the depths to which it had plummeted, and did force his right foot forward, and his left foot then to follow; and thus he onward moved within that Hellish tunnel.
Then as he went, the floor beneath him did soften, till he did walk upon a yielding surface; and he stumbled and did fall, and caught himself upon his hands. He did cry aloud, and backward thrust himself with a broken prayer for strength, for that floor had felt as moist and yielding as tissue living. "In truth," he muttered, "I walk indeed within the throat of Hell."
He plucked himself up and pushed himself onward, bowed against the weight of his fear, yet going.
Sudden light did glare, and did sear his eyes, so that he did clench them shut, then did slowly ope, allowing them to accustom themselves to such brightness, whereupon the glare was gone, and Father Vidicon did see a grinning death's head that did glow there—yet not if its own light, for it was of a pale and sickly green that did shine too brightly for the light to be within. Yet naught else could Father Vidicon see there about him. He did frown, and held his hand before his face; yet he could see it not. "In sooth," he breathed, "what light is this, that is itself a darkness—what light is this, that doth not thus illuminate? How can light cast darkness?"
The answer came at once within his mind, and he did pull his Roman collar from out its place and did hold it out before him, to behold it as a strip of glaring bluish-white. "It doth fluoresce!" he cried in triumph, and he knew thereby that light did truly fill the hall, but was of a color that human eyes see not. Yet his collar, in consequence of the detergent held within it, did transform that color, and did reflect it as a one that human eyes see as glowing.
Father Vidicon replaced his collar then within his shirt with hands that trembled only slightly, and he murmured, "I have, then, come within the land of the Spirit of Paradox." His heart did quail within him, for he knew that the perversities he'd faced ere now were naught indeed when set against the reversals and inverted convolutions of the Spirit that he soon would face. Yet he bowed his head in prayer and felt his heart did lighten. With a silent thought of thanks, he lifted up his head and set forth again down that gigantic throat. The death's head passed upon his left, and on his right he did behold a skeleton frozen at odd angles, as though it were running and was small, or as though the person were now distant. And onward he did pace, past skulls and crossed bones on his left, and on his right, skeletons in postures that might have been provocative, had they worn flesh—and as they must have been to the Spirit of Paradox. Father Vidicon did pray that he would not behold a being fully-fleshed, for he felt sure that it would lie as one who's dead.