by Darst, Matt
No. All Ian had was a passing knowledge of judo.
Defensive Tactics was a required course in the New Order, and judo, or the “soft method,” was a key component of that curriculum. Students were taught to use an opponent’s strength against him by applying force indirectly, to adapt to circumstances, and to use leverage and momentum to keep an attacker off-balance. Basically, use your opponent’s weight against him.
This climax was as boring as a math equation, really. The monster was leaning over Ian. (A) His center of gravity was too high, and (B) his weight was displaced forward. (C) His footing was poor, his shoes having little traction on the incline and (D) atrophied muscles compromised his balance. The monster was (E) either not cognizant of his surroundings or unable to process that information and modify his pursuit of Ian.
What do you get when you add A+B+C+D+E?
Ian grabbed the Fat Man by the wrist with his right hand. Tightly. He ignored the fact that it was greasy to the touch, that he felt the skin sloughing off. He pulled the creature toward him, careful not to jerk him too fast (thus possibly dislocating—or, yuck, detaching the arm from—the shoulder) or too slow (thus allowing the creature to roll back on its heels and find traction). Ian drew the monster in evenly. As he slowly pulled, he rolled to the left onto his back and tucked his elbow, quickening the pace and shifting the thing’s weight to a single foot.
The monster tumbled over Ian. He bounced, the earth punching his kidney with a grunt as gas belched forth. End over end he flipped. Ian watched him disappear into the chasm.
If this had been a Hollywood climax, Ian would have some swift witticism at the ready, like, “Enjoy your trip, see you next fall” or, “Thanks for the hand.” But all he could muster was a muttered, “Fuck you.”
Roger Moore would have been so disappointed.
The fans would have been disappointed, too. The climax is supposed to come at the end of the story. Yet there’s more story to tell.
Ian caught his breath, then ran.
The monsters could not follow. They lacked his speed and his nimbleness, their fine motor skills a fraction of what they had once been.
**
Wright stares at Ian suspiciously. She knows there’s more to his story, that he’s hiding something. Maybe it’s something traumatizing. Maybe it’s something secreted to protect the group and their rising spirits. Whatever it is, Wright is sure it’s for a reason.
Conversations are returning to the usual. The mundane. The comforting.
What do you miss most?
Food?
Your bed?
Your family?
This is good for them. Generally. But Ian is sick to death of talking about everything he misses. He’s too hungry to talk about food, too tired to talk about his bed. He welcomes Wright’s suggestion to check the perimeter with her.
Anne sulks as Ian and Wright leave. “How about a story, then? Anyone know any?”
“I’ve got one,” Burt replies. “A little before your time, but still pretty good. ‘A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away—’”
Van interrupts. “Please tell me this isn’t Star Wars.”
And with that, all that was pleasant and previously enjoyed evaporated.
Burt’s jaw drops. He asks, “What’s so wrong with Star Wars?”
Van gives him two words: Frank Herbert. They guy who wrote a little novel called Dune. A novel so good, it was made into a movie…twice. And Star Wars is totally derivative of Dune. A copy. And copies are never as good as the original, especially when they’re not authorized or credited.
Van turns to Anne, explaining the premise. Essentially, Star Wars and Dune are the same story, but Dune was written ten or more years earlier. “And,” he says, “George Lucas totally stole it.”
“That’s okay,” Anne says. “I haven’t read either of them.”
Van’s brow wrinkles. “No, it is definitely not okay. You deserve to hear Dune, the original, the novel. Star Wars is just series of movies that recycled the same themes.”
Burt leans in. “Just a series of movies that grossed billions of dollars. Anyway, science fiction, as a genre, regularly recycles themes. Like the orphan of humble beginnings, who struggles against evil and discovers his inner strength in the process; the prophecy of the ‘one’ who will ultimately bridge the gap between light and dark and bring peace; or—”
“No,” Van interjects, “I know you wish it was that simple, but it’s more than coincidence. They not only share characters, they share key plot points.”
“Really, guys,” Anne says, sensing the building tension, “I don’t mind hearing either story.”
They ignore her.
Burt doesn’t believe him. “Give me an example,” he begs.
Van chews his lip. “Well, it’s been a little bit, so you’ll have to forgive me if I’ve forgotten some names and places.”
Burt smirks. “Duly noted.”
“Okay,” Van sighs. “Here goes.” And with that, Van begins what can only be called an oral treatise, an exposition on setting, character, and theme. He stands up. “In column A, we have Dune.” He gestures with both hands, indicating a pillar on his left. “In column B, we have Star Wars.” He says Star Wars with disdain. “First, the setting. In column A…”
Dune…is set largely on Arrakis, a harsh desert planet prone to fierce sandstorms.
Star Wars…is set largely on Tatooine, a harsh desert planet prone to fierce sandstorms.
Dune: Arrakis is situated on the edge of the galaxy, but it carries significance because spice mining.
Star Wars: Tatooine is situated on the edge of the galaxy, but carries significance because of spice mining.
“Remember spice in Star Wars?” Van asks. “Remember that cheesy pod race in the Phantom Menace? Anakin raced through the spice mines.”
Dune: Spice is an addictive drug that improves mediation, increases longevity, and grants the power of prophecy.
Star Wars: Spice is an addictive drug that improves meditation, increases longevity, and grants the power of prophecy.
Dune: Spice is so popular a commodity, it is smuggled on the black market and inspires battles for control (the Empire battles Paul Atreides).
Star Wars: Spice is so popular a commodity, it is smuggled on the black market and inspires battles for control (the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo).
“Han Solo was a spice smuggler for gangster Jabba the Hutt, right?” Van asks.
“Yes,” Burt says. He clears his throat to say something else, but Van continues. He’s on cruise control.
Dune: Arrakis was once covered by water, and great caches of water are stored underground.
Star Wars: Tatooine was once covered by water, and great caches of water are stored underground.
“In Star Wars, prospectors search for untapped subterranean water.” Van pauses. “I doubt it’s a coincidence that George Lucas named a topographical depression on Tatooine the ‘Dune Sea.’ Seems like a nod and a wink to Herbert, right?”
He’s greeted by silence from Burt.
“And then there are the characters...”
Dune: Arrakis is under the jurisdiction of an Empire.
Star Wars: Tatooine is under the jurisdiction of an Empire.
Dune: Struggles among political dynasties are instigated and quelled by an emperor (the Emperor pits the House Harkonnen against Paul Atreides’ father, the popular Duke Leto).
Star Wars: Struggles among political dynasties are instigated and quelled by an emperor (the Emperor Palpatine pits various planets and civilizations against each other).
Dune: an orphan undoes The Empire.
Star Wars: an orphan undoes The Empire.
Dune: The orphan’s father is murdered (by the Baron Harkonnen).
Star Wars: The orphan’s father is murdered (so to speak, by Darth Vader).
Dune: The murderer, in the end, turns out to be the orphan’s…grandfather (gasp!).
Star Wars: The murderer, in t
he end, turns out to be the orphan’s…father (gasp!).
Burt cuts in. “Darth Vader didn’t really murder Anakin Skywalker.”
“Really?” Van replies. “But isn’t that exactly how Ben Kenobi put it?”
Burt nods reluctantly. “Okay, I get it.”
“Wait,” Van says, “I’m not done yet.”
Dune: Mysticism is explored through the Weirding, or Bene Gesserit, Way.
Star Wars: Mysticism is explored through “the Force.”
Dune: The orphan (Paul Atreides) receives mental and physical training allowing him to sense the future (called the ‘Golden Path’).
Star Wars: The orphan (Luke Skywalker) receives mental and physical training allowing him to sense the future (or “disturbances in the Force”).
Dune: The orphan can alter others’ perceptions or command them into action with his voice.
Star Wars: The orphan can alter others’ perceptions or command them into action with his voice.
Dune: The orphan can communicate with dead ancestors (the deceased Harkonnen drives his sister insane).
Star Wars: The orphan can communicate with dead ancestors (Ben Kenobi mentors from the grave).
Dune: The orphan can defy the laws of physics (he realigns his own metabolism to neutralize a toxin).
Star Wars: The orphan can defy the laws of physics (he can move objects with his mind).
“And, also,” Van continues…
Realizing there will be no story, Anne rolls over and tries to sleep.
**
“Do you think it was a mistake,” Wright asks, once they are out of earshot, “leaving those two alone together?”
“Nah,” Ian replies. But he really isn’t thinking about Van and Burt. He’s thinking about the night. This night. A full moon illuminates the landscape before them—every tree, every fallen branch, every rock. Their surroundings are nearly luminescent. It’s almost as though the terrain is glowing from the inside. It’s magical.
But it could also expose them. They are easy targets in this light. Ian feels vulnerable.
He thinks about Kari’s question again and corrects himself. “Maybe.”
**
“Are you done, now?” Burt nearly spits.
“Almost. Let’s talk about themes.”
Genetics.
Dune: Paul Atreides’ powers are based in genetics (the product of Bene Gesserit breeding programs).
Star Wars: Anakin Skywalker’s powers are based in genetics (his blood contains ‘midichloridians,’ whatever the hell those are).
Prophecy.
Dune: Paul becomes the one of prophecy (the Kwisatz Haderach).
Star Wars: Anakin becomes the one of prophecy (the one to bring balance to the force).
Cloning.
Dune: a cloned soldier, Duncan Idaho, protects Paul.
Star Wars: cloned soldiers, stormtroopers, protect Anakin.
References to the Third Reich.
Dune: Imperial Sardaukar.
Star Wars: Imperial Stormtroopers.
Worms.
Dune: Arrakis is crawling with giant worms known for attacking ships involved in spice mining.
Star Wars: The asteroid belt is crawling with giant worms known for attacking ships involved in spice smuggling (Millennium Falcon).
Assassination.
Dune: An attempt is made on Paul’s life by an insect-like hunter-seeker that slipped into his bedroom at night.
Star Wars: An attempt is made on Queen Amidala’s life by an insect-like creature that slipped into her bedroom at night.
“And then there are the Messianic references—”
“Enough!” Burt cries, loud enough to wake Anne. It is all too much for him.
Chapter Nineteen: Van Wars – The Return of Brom Sybal
When the world—Burt’s world—went to hell, Burt was left with nothing to cling to. He lost everything on that fateful day, 18 years back.
He lost his girlfriend, Melissa.
He lost his unborn son.
He lost his family.
He lost his cat.
He lost his home.
He lost his job.
He lost his dreams.
He would have lost his mind, too, but Burt has largely repressed the events of that day. He has largely hidden the carnage beneath layers and layers of escapist fodder, comic books and movies that replaced his reality with that of Superman, of Luke Skywalker, of Neil Gaiman, and of J.R.R. Tolkien.
He remembers leaving the comic book store early. Something was wrong. There were too few customers. Even the regulars were missing. And they were never missing.
He had tried ringing Mel up. She hadn’t answered. There shouldn’t have been anything unusual about that. She was hanging with his sister. They were going to redecorate the second bedroom for the baby. Burt’s sister, Heather, was particularly artsy. She was going to paint jungle scenes on the walls about the crib. But Burt felt there was something amiss.
Burt hardly recalls his fears being confirmed when he entered his home. It was an older place, but it was all he could afford. The door was ajar, and it groaned like a ghost as he pushed it slowly inward. He started to call for Mel, then saw the gallon of fresh paint turned over in the foyer. Moss green veins streamed across the floor and pooled in a corner. Green footprints, a woman’s—maybe his sister’s, by the size of them—gave chase down the hall.
Chasing what?
He followed them.
Past the dining room.
Past the bathroom.
Into the kitchen.
Burt barely remembers finding Mel and his sister there. He’s repressed the image of them on the floor…tearing at Fido’s carcass (God, they had thought themselves so clever in naming the calico after a dog)…blood and fur strewn about the room and…their mouths.
He doesn’t recollect dispatching Heather. Or the weight of his grandma’s heavy wooden rolling pin in his hand. Or the painful reverberations in his palm as Heather’s head gave way.
He can’t call to mind Mel’s animal expression, her exposed canines, and her charge. Or her nails in his shoulder. Or his panicked grab for the butcher knife on the counter. Or the stabbing. Repeatedly in her chest and…belly. Or the cutting. Or Mel’s head loosening from her shoulders.
He can’t recall striking the match and burning the house, and the secrets it held, to the ground.
He spent the next three weeks holed up in his store’s basement, reading every comic about the Man of Steel front to back. When he finished, he watched Star Wars. Then he watched it again. And again. Over and over and over. When the battery in his laptop died, he used his portable DVD player. When those batteries failed, he used the batteries from the store’s gaming system. When those were spent, he pillaged the batteries from the fire alarm. And after those died, he was left to the machinations of his own mind.
But Burt did not like that place. No, he hated it. He wanted to be in another.
So he simply decided it would be so. It didn’t take much more than that decision and time. Time to build a complex alternative reality. A new home he could immerse himself into completely. Convincingly.
In this world, he was a lone Jedi, traveling the outskirts of the galaxy, saving maidens from the Imperial scourge. It was a dangerous assignment, one that prevented him from embracing the trappings of friends and family. It was too risky, too dangerous, to let people get close, especially to someone like him, Brom Sybal.
Brom Sybal? Yes, he had even invented a Star Wars name for himself and a back-story that involved—wait for it—being orphaned. When he emerged from the basement, his beard long and hair tied in a Padawan knot, he was no longer plain old Burt.
Brom didn’t survive long, however. It was one thing to pretend to be a Jedi in the darkness of a basement. It was another to pretend to be a Jedi in the light of day, without special powers, without a light saber or a starship. Brom couldn’t exist in this new world. But neither could the old Burt.
So
a new Burt was born, a Burt devoid of recent history. A Burt whose adult years would be bridged by the lessons of fantasy.
And now Van challenges this lie. Van seeks to turn the foundations of this current iteration of Burt into rubble. Van threatens Burt’s very existence by exhuming the graves of…
No. Burt will not allow that to happen. He can’t bear to lose Mel again.
“Enough!” Burt screams again.
Van pays him no heed. “Take all of this, and couple it with Lucas’ penchant to borrow from others—he admittedly appropriated from Akira Kurosawa—”
“Don’t you ever shut up?!” Burt yells.
“—that proves,” Van continues, sternly, “Lucas may have found his influences not so ‘long ago,’ and in a place not so ‘far away.’”
Burt jumps up. He strides toward Van, fists clenched. “You obviously must not have had a daddy, because no one has taught you respect.”