Kev

by Mark A Labbe

  “Hey, what are you doing?” said the sphere.

  “Sorry, pal, but you’re going to heaven,” I said, taking the sphere and myself to the top of the tallest peak in heaven.

  After burying the Proth Sphere in about ten feet of snow, I returned to my home on Uthio Minor, in the present, finding everyone eating dinner.

  Clive was there, as I expected, a sick grin on his face. “So, Kev, you’ve been busy,” he said.

  “Yup.”

  “Where did you go? You kind of ran off.”

  “I had some things to take care of,” I said.

  “Have you seen the Proth Sphere anywhere?” said Clive.

  “I’d ask you why you care, but I know you won’t answer me.”

  “True. No worries, buddy. We’ll play some other time.”

  After dinner, Clive invited me to go down the beach to the bar.

  “So, you pressed the button five times,” said Clive.

  “Yup.”

  “How does it feel to have infinite knowledge?”

  “I don’t have infinite knowledge, but I think you know that already.”

  “Well, near infinite at least. Don’t you think it’s odd that you don’t have any of my knowledge, or the girl’s?”

  “Don’t toy with me,” I said. “If you want to tell me what’s going on then tell me.”

  “Rules are rules, Kev.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “Have you considered pressing the button six times, or maybe more?”

  “The thought has crossed my mind. Why?” I didn’t know what pressing the button six times would do, but I remembered the instructions for the cube said I should press the button six times if I had pressed it five times.

  “I don’t know. I mean, I would want to know, but that’s just me. Hey, do you still have that red cube?”

  I looked at Clive for a moment, long enough to know that something bad might happen if I answered that question truthfully. “Why?” I said.

  “Do you know what it does?”

  “No.” I didn’t know, and from what I could tell, nobody in any of the infinite universes other than maybe Clive, the girl, the Proth Sphere, Bri and Jesus knew. “What does it do?”

  “Why don’t you give it to me and I’ll show you?” said Clive, wearing his best poker face.

  I knew Clive knew that I could easily teleport away if there was trouble, so I doubted he would attempt to forcibly take the cube from me. “Why don’t you just tell me what it does?”

  “Nah, you’ll figure it out.”

  A big grin appeared on Clive’s face as he looked over my shoulder. I turned and saw a pale blue alien, an alien named Chit, an alien that worked for B24ME, an employee of the show. “Here, you dropped this,” said Chit, holding out his hand so I couldn’t see what he had. I reached out and he placed a little blue cube in my hand. An almost inaudible curse escaped my lips. I heard Clive say, “Rule twenty-one, Kev.”

  The pale blue alien disappeared, leaving me with the blue cube in my hand.

  “Looks like you’re on The Show again, pal,” said Clive.

  “Well hello, Turd Fondler,” said B24ME.

  “You did this?” I said to Clive.

  “What are friends for?”

  “Are you ready for your next challenge?” said B24ME as I appeared inside a large, empty cube with glowing, purple walls. On one of the walls I saw a small panel with numbered buttons.

  “What is this?” I said, but I knew. I had appeared inside a Gorg auto-collapsing death box.

  Gorg, home to exactly thirty-seven billion ten-foot tall, bulbous, purple beings, had a serious problem at one point with storing their dead. Religious beliefs dictated that dead Gorgians could not be cremated or stored anywhere other than on the surface of the planet. Over time, the Gorgians realized that they had nowhere left to store their dead. In fact, a very large portion of the planet served as a graveyard. Two million years ago, the planet overrun by corpses, a clever young Gorg named Horuk invented the Gorg auto-collapsing death box, a box that would totally eliminate all storage problems while not violating their strict religious codes.

  One simply had to place a dead Gorg in one of the boxes and activate it. Over a one-hour period, the box would collapse, shrinking to the size of a grain of sand.

  After developing this ingenious device, it took the Gorgians two hundred seventy-three thousand years to collapse all of their dead, placing these collapsed cubes in a two hundred foot on a side, clear cube, a cube that would not reach capacity for billions of years.

  “You know I can just teleport out of here, B24ME,” I said.

  “I’d like to see you try,” said B24ME.

  I tried to teleport back to Uthio Minor, but nothing happened, realizing then that B24ME had placed a containment field around the box, a containment field I did not have the means to disable at that moment.

  “So, to win the challenge, I have to escape the box, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  I knew the keypad on the wall was a type of failsafe. If a Gorgian found himself in a death box, not yet dead, something that happened quite often, given the somewhat hasty nature of Gorgians, all she or he had to do was enter the code to be freed. Of course, all Gorgians are taught their code from a very early age, so if the need arises they can escape certain death after being declared dead and put in a death box. I didn’t know the code for this box and didn’t recall the one thing that would have allowed me to figure it out. Further, the code was a six-digit number, which meant there were a million possible combinations. I had an hour to find the right combination, a virtual impossibility. I knew if I did not enter the right code before the box collapsed to the point where it would kill me, I would be contained within it for all eternity, dying and coming back to life over and over.

  I could sense the walls closing in on me. “Can you give me a hint?” I said.

  “Tell you what,” said B24ME. “When you have a minute left, I’ll give you a hint.”

  I searched my memories, frantically looking for clues that would reveal the code, entering any six digit number I found in the memories of any of the Gorgians that had every lived. Nothing worked.

  With a minute left, the interior of the box would be about the same size as the interior of a washing machine. Given that I wasn’t a large person, I probably would be able to type codes on the keypad, scrunched up in that small space, but I wouldn’t have much time, maybe just seconds before I was crushed.

  “Gee, thanks, B24ME,” I said as I entered codes on the keypad. I then remembered the code was the number of Gorgians it took to build this particular death box. However, that number varied from day to day and I didn’t know on what date this death box had been manufactured.

  With a minute left, B24ME said, “How many Gorgians did it take to build this death box?”

  I groaned. Of course B24ME wouldn’t truly help me. “B24ME, when was this box made?” I said, hoping he wouldn’t realize I could figure out the code if he told me.

  “Now, why would I tell you that?” laughed B24ME.

  At that point, I could barely move, but I had made sure that my right hand was positioned near the keypad. I knew that it took a different number of Gorgians to make the boxes on different days, largely due to religious considerations. However, I didn’t know when this death box had been made. I could still see the keypad and noticed a number at the bottom of the pad. That was the serial number of the box. I felt like a fool for not noticing it before, but also felt hope in that moment, despite the fact that I had little time left. Searching my memories, I found the manufacture date for this box. From that I could tell how many Gorgians had been involved in its construction, three hundred, seventy-three thousand, seven hundred thirty-seven. I managed to type the first five digits before the collapsing box forced my hand away from the keypad. I tried to force my hand back into position and heard a sick crunch as my arm broke, and then another crunch as my spine snapped. Fortunately, this put m
e in a position to type the final number, pressing it an instant before my injuries killed me. At that point, one side of the box disappeared and two large, purple hands grabbed me and pulled me out. I saw a flash of light and then found myself on the ground, now alive and healed, a large Gorgian hovering over me, and said, “Thanks for the hint, B24ME.”

  The Gorgian grumbled something and lumbered away.

  “I see I’m going to have to think up something a little more creative,” said B24ME, his disappointment more than evident.

  I pulled the blue cube out of my pocket and placed it on the ground, remembering destroying it in the past, realizing I had managed to get off The Show a number of times by doing just that.

  “Yes, Turd Fondler, we anticipated you might try to destroy the cube again, so we re-engineered it. It is indestructible. Nice try.”

  I stomped on the cube repeatedly to no effect, then picked it up and threw it away from me. The cube reappeared in my hand.

  “Are you ready for your next challenge?” laughed B24ME.

  “Hey, B24ME, I have a question. What is this game I’m playing?”

  “Which game?” said B24ME.

  “Not The Show, the other game.”

  “You must know I don’t know that, right?”

  “It was worth a try,” I said, knowing full well that B24ME didn’t know that, although I had hoped I was wrong.

  “Now, I might be willing to give you a hint if you agree to stay on The Show,” said B24ME. Was I wrong? Did I truly have all of the memories of all of the beings that ever lived in all of the infinite universes, with the exception of Clive, the girl, Bri, the Proth Sphere, Jesus, and myself?

  I knew if I stayed on The Show, B24ME would just try to torment me for all eternity, and knew that there were ways in which he could do that, this last challenge almost proving to be the one that trap me for all eternity. Even though I couldn’t die in any final way, I could be put in situations where I would die over and over with no hope of escape.

  B24ME was an autonomous electronic entity, originally programmed to be a space traffic controller. He had subsequently been programmed to be the host of The Show, programmed by me. His programming included a random challenge generator he used to devise challenges. He could also pick and choose from queues of generated challenges randomly. I had no way of knowing what he might select next and so I could not prepare for any of the challenges, even if he would give me enough time to prepare. Further, I wasn’t sure he really knew the answer to my question and suspected he might lie to keep me on the show for all eternity.

  “I’ll pass,” I said.

  “Okay. Let’s see. What should we do next?”

  “How about you let me take a break?”

  “I suppose we could take a commercial break. Have to pay the bills after all. I’ll give you a day, your time.”

  “Wonderful,” I said, teleporting back to the bar on Uthio Minor.

  Clive looked at me and said, “So, you won the challenge.”

  “Have I ever lost a challenge on that show?” I said, knowing the answer.

  “No.”

  Aputi’s Dream

  “Well, it’s time to end this,” said Clive, the Proth Sphere appearing by his side. How had Clive managed to get the sphere? I didn’t realize that when I died, I ended up disabling the containment field that held the sphere in place. The sphere escaped on its own.

  I felt the Proth Sphere connect to my mind and immediately teleported to my house in Vermont back in 2016, hoping Clive wouldn’t follow me to such an obvious place. How did the Proth Sphere get away? Did Clive find it while I was in the death box? Was the sphere ever trapped? Nothing in my memories could answer those questions. All I knew was that I could not let the Proth Sphere connect to me under any circumstances.

  I wondered then why the Proth Sphere hadn’t tried to connect to me when I captured it on Earithon. Maybe it didn’t want to. Maybe Clive was going to force it to connect to me. Maybe he had some kind of control over it.

  I now felt certain Clive wanted to connect me to the Proth Sphere in order to make Aputi’s nightmare come true. Clive wanted to end all creation; but why? Who was Clive? Actually, who were the girl, the Proth Sphere, Bri and Jesus? I knew almost nothing about them. I did know the girl loved me. Of that I was certain, but I also knew she was a part of this conspiracy. Did she want to end all creation? I thought not.

  Clearly, Clive did not know that Aputi had the one nightmare that could end all creation, or he would have connected Aputi to the sphere. But, he knew I had it, or at least suspected I did. How could I get rid of that memory? I remembered the black cube in that instant. The instructions had clearly said I should press the button six times if I ever pressed it five times. Why?

  I pulled out the cube and pressed the button six times, and in that instant I blacked out.

  I woke up thirty-seven days later, although I did not know that thirty-seven days had passed. I had lost all of my memories, but did not recognize the enormity of that loss. All memories of the girl, Clive, The Show, and pretty much everything else had been wiped clean. I didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t know who I was.

  After picking myself up off the floor, I looked around this unfamiliar environment. I called out, but nobody answered, so I searched the house. In one room I found a computer and next to it a strange black cube, my communications device. On the computer screen I saw an open window and in the window I saw a list of messages.

  One read, “Having trouble remembering me? Respond and I’ll stop by to fill you in. Ruby.”

  Another read, “Hey, Kev, could you send me a copy of Hocus Pocus?” Was my name Kev? What kind of name was that? Seemed like a stupid name.

  A third read, “Having trouble with your flog? Is it unresponsive or far too responsive? Respond for a free Flogulator. The Flogulator is guaranteed to solve all your pesky flog problems.”

  I went back to the first message. I assumed the sender knew me, so I wrote back, “I appear to have lost all of my memories. Who am I?”

  Ruby wrote back, “I’ll be right there, Kev. By the way, I’m your wife.”

  I noticed a ring on my finger, so I was willing to accept Ruby’s claim that she was my wife. However, I had no memory of her.

  Moments later, the front door opened, an absolutely gorgeous blond wearing a tight red dress entering the house. She hugged me and said, “I’ve missed you, Kev. Where have you been?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. Who am I?”

  “You’re my husband,” said Ruby, coming in the house and leading me to the couch.

  “You don’t remember anything, do you?”

  “Not one thing. Where am I?”

  “This is our home, Kev.”

  “Oh. How long have we been married?”

  “Five years, five wonderful years. You look pale. Let me get you something to drink.”

  Ruby disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. I took a sip, noting a strange, bitter taste, and said, “How long have I been gone?”

  “Thirty-seven days,” said Ruby.

  I felt a tingling in my spine and let out a laugh. My vision clouded up as my thoughts became strange. The world around me faded.

  Some time later, I woke up in bed, Ruby by my side, now naked. Ruby wasn’t a woman. I was pretty sure Ruby wasn’t human and probably wasn’t a she. I felt quite certain that Ruby wasn’t my wife.

  “You’re not my wife, are you?”

  “No, but I’m the next best thing, Kev.”

  “How do you know me?”

  “You’re the father of our children,” said Ruby.

  “Children? Did you drug me?”

  “Of course I did. Why you think you intercopulated with me?”

  “What? Intercopulated? What are you?”

  “I’m a Nidian.”

  Somewhere deep inside me, memories stirred. However, I could not piece them together. I jumped out of bed and put on my clothes. As I put on my pants I not
iced a lump in my right pocket. Reaching in, I found three cubes, a red one, a clear one and a black one. More interested in escaping a quite distressing situation, I stuffed them back in my pocket. Note that when I pressed the button on the black cube six times, I performed a type a reset, a reset that wiped out my memories and got me off The Show. That is why I did not have the blue cube. Just thought you might be wondering about that.

  “Kev, come back to bed.”

  “No way,” I said, remembering part of my experience with Ruby.

  “But we had so much fun.”

  “I wouldn’t call that fun.”

  Ruby sighed. “Well, I guess I better tell you the truth, or at least the part I’m allowed to tell you.”

  “The truth?”

  “Your name is Kev Pryce. You are married to the girl and you live on Uthio Minor. This is also your home, but you don’t come here that often. You and I have three boys, Kev the first, Kev the second, and Kev the third, and will soon have Kev the fourth. You have a daughter with the girl named Soph.”

  “What else?” I said, thinking Soph was a stupid name to give a girl.

  “Well, you just got me pregnant, and I will give birth in about an hour. That’s all I can tell you. Why don’t we go down the street to the bar?”

  “Why? So you can drug me again? Wait a second. I just got you pregnant?”

  “Yes, I’m pregnant, and I promise I won’t drug you. I don’t intercopulate when I’m pregnant.”

  “How wonderful. Where the hell is Uthio Minor?”

  “About thirty-seven billion light-years from here.”

  Ruby and I went to the bar down the street from my house, a bar she assured me I had been to many times. As we entered, a burly, bearded man wearing a red flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up, sporting tattoos on his arms and neck, called out to me, “Hey, Kev. Where have you been?”

  I looked at the man, trying to remember his name.

  He laughed and said, “Did it again, didn’t you?”

  “Did what?” I said.

  “Lost all your memories, Kev. I swear you have the worst memory.”