Kev

by Mark A Labbe

  I grabbed onto the sphere and did what I believed would institute this change in reality, focusing all of my thought on creating a new universe that would not be set against me.

  “I’m sorry, Kev, but I can’t do that,” said the sphere.

  “What?” I said.

  “Rules are rules. I can’t help you. Now, if you want to have a giant nozzle come and suck up the entire universe or change the entire universe into a giant theme park or something like that, I’d be more than happy to help, but I’m not going to let you cheat.”

  “Cheat?” I cried. “How is this cheating? What rule says you can’t do this?”

  “Well, that would be rule seven, actually. Sorry, Kev.”

  “Dammit. What are the other rules?” I said.

  “Can’t tell you that. I shouldn’t have told you about rule seven.”

  “Well can you tell me how many rules there are?”

  “I guess. There are thirty-seven rules. There are always thirty-seven rules.”

  “Always? What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Anyway, you’re going to have to figure it out on your own.”

  In that instant, I remembered the black cube and reached into my pocket, grabbing it. I should note that, at the time, I had the black, red and clear cubes in my possession.

  I remembered something about pressing the button five times on the black cube, something I should never do, but something I felt I must, for reasons unknown.

  “You sure you want to do that?” said the sphere.

  “Are you breaking the rules right now?” I said, suspecting the sphere was offering help, but wondering if it was trying to stop me from doing something that would allow me to win this game.

  “You know, I’m not entirely sure. Go ahead and do it. Let’s see what happens.”

  I pressed the button five times, blacking out and falling to the ground.

  Thirty-seven days later, I opened my eyes and saw a girl who looked identical to the girl hovering over me, a look of concern on her face. I was in bed. I knew more than I could have possibly imagined I could ever know, but I knew I did not know everything.

  “Are you okay?” she said.

  “Yes,” I said. “Thank you for taking care of me. Have you seen a floating yellow sphere of energy recently?”

  “It left a few days ago; said it wanted to connect with someone named Aputi, but I don’t know who that is,” she said.

  “I do,” I said, recalling the horrific nightmare Aputi had once had, realizing that if the Proth Sphere connected to Aputi, all creation--absolutely everything--would be lost.

  Would the sphere really connect with him? It would know what he possessed. Would it really end everything? I couldn’t take any chances.

  At the time I pressed the button five times, Aputi had been in Barrow, Alaska, at the time making plans for pnukes, part of his plan to end humanity, something I now realized Clive put him up to. Why would Clive do that?

  I teleported to Aputi’s home in Barrow, a small shack on the outskirts of town, finding him standing by his sink, preparing a glass of green tea.

  Aputi looked at me, shock on his face. “Kev. I didn’t expect to see you this soon. What brings you here?”

  “Have you seen the Proth Sphere?” I said.

  “Well, no…I mean, what is the Proth Sphere?”

  I eyed the wrinkly, little man suspiciously. While I was concerned about the possibility that the sphere might come here and try to connect with Aputi, I had other questions weighing heavily upon me. Why had Clive hired Aputi to end humanity? Why had Clive elected to be the first person that Aputi’s pnukes would kill some ten years in the future? I knew Aputi didn’t know the answer and knew that Clive would never give me the answer.

  Something dawned on me in that instant. Aputi already had killed off humanity many times, but in different lives. Countless times he had enlisted me to help him find the yellow cube, a cube I had given him many times after he manipulated me. I realized that I had lived many lives, some remarkably similar to each other. The majority of these lives appeared to have ended at two different places in relative time. The only way I knew this was I had the memories of all of the beings that had ever interacted with me and I could tell when they had stopped interacting with me, and then I could tell when their lives suddenly came to a halt all at the same time, and they started over. In fact, I saw this pattern over and over again in my memories; all of the lives of all of the beings in the universe cut off and then restarted in a single moment. What could this mean? I kept searching my memories and realized that this had all started at the moment I inadvertently killed myself while in hell with Clive. I had done that many times after the first time. I had done that many times, leading up to a final time that led to a new pattern, one in which I lived my life up until I was living in Vermont after graduating from college, up until the day after Max, the last person to see me, saw me for the last time in each of the lives that followed that pattern. In that pattern, always about a day after the last time Max saw me, everyone in the universe died and was reborn, reborn on the day of my ninth birthday. How many times had that happened? What caused it?

  I remembered the voice telling me I was stuck in a loop, and in this instant understood what it meant, although I did not fully understand the nature of the loop. I puzzled on it for a while before concluding I was wasting my time. I would not find the answer. I focused on Aputi. I had to find somewhere to hide him, somewhere the sphere couldn’t find him.

  This begged the question, how much did the sphere know at any given time? Could it track everything that happened in the infinite universes or was it only Bri who could do that? I remembered Bri telling me that in some past life. What did the sphere know?

  I took a step back. How many times had the Proth Sphere told the girl on Earithon that it was going to find Aputi, and how many times had I come after Aputi to take him to some safe place? I couldn’t count the number of times that had happened. I knew I never actually tried to hide Aputi, that I would come to him in Barrow with the intention of hiding him somewhere, and I would talk to him, and the conversation would inevitably drift to subject of Clive. I questioned him countless times about working for Clive, getting very few answers, each time getting to a point in the conversation, often in different ways, where I gave up and left, not taking Aputi with me to hide him. I sifted through those conversations, looking for a pattern.

  Aputi definitely did not know why I ultimately chose not to hide him each time. I was certain of that. So, what had he said to me? I had the memories, but in my frantic state, I couldn’t piece things together. The only thing that offered any clue was the fact that I had, over and over again, left Aputi there, essentially out in the open for the sphere. If that had happened over and over and all creation had not come to a terrible end, then would it come to an end if I left him here now? That struck me as highly unlikely. However, I did not understand why it was so.

  I sifted through Aputi’s recent memories, memories from this life, memories leading up until the moment I pressed the button on the black cube five times. I realized Clive had hired Aputi to work with the Canadians to end humanity thirty-eight days ago, at least in this life. However, that didn’t make sense. I was with Clive at the precise moment when Clive hired Aputi. Had Clive somehow traveled in time to do this? If so, from when did he travel? Did it even matter? I knew Aputi didn’t know the answer, so I abandoned that line of thought, going back to the issue of the sphere.

  Would the sphere really try to connect to Aputi? It hadn’t in the past. I believed the sphere knew where Aputi was, for whatever reason. If that were so, wouldn’t it have immediately come to Aputi after telling the girl on Earithon that it was going to connect with him? Something clicked.

  The sphere had told the girl on Earithon that it was going to connect with Aputi because it wanted me to visit Aputi. It didn’t intend to connect with him. Why did it want me to visit Aputi? What was I mi
ssing? Was the sphere trying to help me? Was it telling me something? Maybe it was telling me that it couldn’t end all creation by connecting with Aputi, a strange conclusion to draw, but the one I drew. If that was the case, then the sphere might only be able to end all creation if it connected with me, because I now had Aputi’s nightmare drifting around in my mind.

  I was unconscious for thirty-seven days, unconscious but in possession of Aputi’s nightmare. The sphere could have connected to me in that time and wiped everything out. It didn’t do that. It didn’t do that because it didn’t want to do that.

  I had another realization in that instant. The sphere didn’t want to connect with me at all. However, someone wanted the sphere to connect with me. Someone wanted to end all creation. Who?

  None of my memories pointed to a suspect. However, I didn’t have absolutely everyone’s memories. Those of Clive, the girl, Bri, the sphere and Jesus were missing from my mind. I knew Clive, the girl and Bri would not help me, and believed the sphere had already done all that it was going to do to help me. I vaguely remembered Jesus helping me in the past, although my memories of that were quite foggy. Would he help me now?

  I teleported to ancient Israel, to Nazareth, to the home of Jesus, a boy at the time. He looked at me when I appeared and said, “I am happy you came to me, my friend. We need to talk.”

  “I know. You need to tell me what is going on. Who wants to end all creation?”

  Jesus smiled sadly and said, “Don’t you already know?”

  “Know what?” I said, forgetting my previous lines of thought.

  “Maybe you don’t. Interesting. I’ll come right out with it, then. Clive is Satan. He is trying to end all creation by connecting you to the Proth Sphere. I take it you pressed the button on the black cube five times, did you not?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you have Aputi’s nightmare?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you are exposing all creation to great danger. You must find a way to eliminate that nightmare from your mind. If Clive catches you and connects you to the sphere, that will be the end, a very absolute end.”

  “Clive is Satan?”

  “Yes.”

  I had few memories of my thoughts about God in all of my infinite lives. The ones I did have centered on my doubt that God existed. In this moment, I found that I had a very profound belief in God. I believed that Jesus told the truth when he said Clive was Satan, and I accepted the idea that Satan would want to end all creation, my understanding of Satan largely influenced by what I had learned as a child, a rather limited view of the truth.

  “But, what if Clive figures out that Aputi had that nightmare?” I said.

  “The sphere can only end all creation if it gets the nightmare from your mind, Kev. You must be rid of it as soon as possible. You are not safe here or anywhere, for that matter.”

  “Do you know how I can get rid of it?” I said.

  “That I do not know. However, you should know if you pressed the button on the black cube five times.”

  I searched my memories and found something interesting. At one point, Aputi had seen the instructions for the black cube, instructions I had forgotten. One of the instructions read, “Press the button six times if you have pressed the button five times.” The preceding rule stated, “Never press the button five times.” Of course. Pressing the button six times would eliminate the nightmare from my mind. Who created those instructions? Who created the black cube? Did I? Was this a message to myself, a warning?

  “I see you have figured it out,” said Jesus.

  “I think so. I think I know what I have to do.”

  “Good luck, Kev. I love you. I hope you know that.”

  “I love you too. Goodbye.”

  Unknowing

  I teleported back to the park in Macon, Georgia, to a moment not long after the moment the girl brought Clive and me to Uthio Minor, to the top of the fort, pulled out the black cube and pressed the button six times, immediately blacking out.

  Thirty-seven days later, I woke in a hospital in Macon, virtually all of my memories wiped away. However, I remembered Clive, who was now sitting beside my bed, my father, who stood at the end of my bed, my mother, standing beside my father, Uncle Joe, standing next to my mother, and the girl, standing beside me, holding my hand.

  I did not know that Clive was Satan, and new nothing about a plot to end all creation. I had no memory of Jesus or the Proth Sphere, no memory of Bri or of any of the infinite lives I had lived. I remembered nothing of other worlds or aliens, nothing of the future and quite little of my past.

  I saw the ring on the girl’s finger and felt tears come to my eyes, realizing how much I loved her despite the fact I had known her only a short time, at least so I thought in my present state.

  “Welcome back, Kev,” said the girl, leaning over and kissing me. The others all came to my side.

  “What happened?” I said.

  They all looked at each other for a while, and then the girl said, “You made a decision.”

  “What kind of decision?” I said, somewhat confused.

  “You decided to forget, but I’m happy you did not forget me.”

  I looked at Clive. He wore a dark look, perhaps annoyed in some way.

  “What is the date?” I said.

  “October eighth,” said Uncle Joe.

  “Shouldn’t I be in school?” I said, forgetting everything about making a decision, any doubt I had about the present situation vanishing.

  “Your father and I are going to take you home for a few days with Clive, and then I will take the two of you to school,” said my mom.

  I looked at the girl, realizing that she would not be coming with us, feeling despair creeping over me.

  “Don’t worry, Kev. I’ll find you. I always do.”

  Back at school, Clive and I settled into a routine of sorts. Although my memories of my time with Clive were vague at best, I knew something had changed between us. He seemed distant and depressed at times, not engaged and less eager to play, devoting most of his time to his studies. In fact, he seemed quite reflective, often speaking of philosophical matters like the existence of God and the nature of knowledge, with an emphasis on memory, something he would talk about quite often.

  “Do you think if you can’t remember a thing, you don’t know that thing, even though it is somewhere in your mind, Kev?” he asked once.

  “I don’t know. I suppose when you remember it, you know it,” I replied.

  “What do you think you know that you have forgotten?”

  “I don’t know yet. I guess I won’t know until I remember.”

  “Yeah, but what do you think you know?” he pressed.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you know who you are?”

  “I don’t know. Who am I?” I said. I felt the little, clear cube vibrate, as it always did when I asked such questions, but did not pull it out to examine it, having long since given up on trying to discover its nature.

  “It’s vibrating, isn’t it?” said Clive.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “What do you think that means?”

  “How should I know? It’s just a stupid, clear cube.”

  “I think it’s much more than that. I think it is your memories, trying to come back to you,” said Clive.

  “Yeah, well, it must be broken, because they’re not coming back.”

  “Maybe you should ask yourself other questions,” said Clive, now much more engaged.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, but if I did, I would tell you. I would definitely tell you. I’m sick of waiting for you to get your head on straight.”

  “What does that mean?” I said.

  “Who do you think you are?” he said.

  “I told you, I don’t know.”

  “I think you’re God, Kev. I think you have forgotten you are God.”

  “You’re a kook, Clive.”

  “I almost belie
ve you. Maybe none of this is real. Maybe this is just some strange simulation and we are all just little programs running in some predetermined way.”

  “Oh, so we don’t have free will?” I said.

  “Who knows? Remember you brought up free will, Kev. I didn’t break that part of the rule.”

  “What are you talking about? What rule?”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s rule ten. I wasn’t really paying attention at the time,” said Clive, yawning.

  “I have no clue what you are talking about.”

  “You probably never will at the rate you’re going.”

  “Why don’t we play The Show?” I said, thinking this might get Clive out of his funk.

  “Nah. I already know what I need to know.”

  “Chess?”

  “I’m sick of games, sick of this game. Why don’t you just remember who you are and end this thing?”

  “What the heck does that mean?” I said. “What is all this stuff about rules and games?”

  “Never mind. Look, I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when you figure something out, okay?”

  Clive turned over on his bed and went to sleep.

  The year passed much the same way. I asked Clive to stay with me for the summer a few days before summer break, but he declined, saying I needed some time to reflect on things and he would only be a distraction.

  That summer, I spent most of my time playing in my fort, sometimes writing in my journal, but never going back and reading it, still uncomfortable with the thought of reading the things the voice had told me to write, things I didn’t remember, but knew enough about to know I didn’t want to read them.

  That August, Uncle Joe brought me down to his farm. By this time, I had completely forgotten about the girl, and could barely remember Clive. I felt somehow disconnected from the world, uncertain and lost. So I was when the girl came to me in the park while I was standing at the top of the fort, reflecting on a life I barely remembered.