by Lee Bond
“But he did!” Chaos shouted happily. “You guys missed it!”
“This is your augment AI?” Eddie sneered at the mess of blue wire. “It’s an idiot.”
“Watch your tone, pal.” Garth didn’t like what Eddie had become, but at the same time, knew that the younger guy’s transformation wasn’t to blame. All that rest squarely on the incongruity’s shoulders. “Chaos might not be the most eloquent of AIs, but you got to remember, he’s in charge of … everything inside me. There’s kind of a lot inside there, so he’s … permanently … hmmmmmm … distracted. Yeah, that’s a good enough way to describe him. And yes, I did so edit my memories. I conned the Universe into lurching towards self-destruction and kept that shit a secret from my own goddamn self, so fucking around with memories is kind of in my skillset. Right up there with ninja-ing and wakeboarding.”
“Then why here?” Eddie gestured and finally felt a bit of incongruous power surge through him. Off in the middle distance, Earth as it’d been during Garth’s run materialized. “Why here, of all places? If you are actually able to do as you claim, why would you choose a stretch of time filled with such … disaster? With Baron Samiel?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Drake’s shout echoed throughout the vast room. “He did it for …”
“Don’t say it.” Eddie shut his eyes. “Please don’t say it.”
“I did it for the recipes.” Garth offered glibly, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Goddamn it all.” Eddie slumped down, defeated. “Really?”
“Oh sure.” Garth nodded. “That, and … I missed you guys.”
“I call bullshit on that last bit.” Drake, more or less pleased that Garth had managed to find his way out from underneath Eddie’s murderous thumb, was nevertheless not entirely certain he should trust anything coming out of the man’s mouth; at this point, even if the two of them were looking at a blob of blue paint and Garth pointed to it and said ‘this is blue’, Drake knew he’d need to bust out all kinds of scientific equipment to prove that there was anything there in the first place, let alone something that qualified as 'blue'.
Garth made to answer, but Chaos stepped forward in the man’s place. “It’s true, you guys. You don’t know what it’s like to be out there, in the Unreal Universe, doing the goddamn things he’s got to do. He planned the fucking end of the Universe! Not only that, but there’s so much shit going on out there that every time he turns out, some new thing is like ‘hey, I’m super powerful and I’m going to fuck your shit up and by the way, you already missed the part where I did all that’. My man here has been falling further and further away from the person he wants to be ever since he woke up. The man you guys helped him be. So … when confronted with the overwhelming opportunity to essentially choose which part of his own life he’d get to Groundhog Day, of course he’d choose The Dream.”
“No brainer, really.” Garth was glad Chaos had stepped up to deliver that little bit of impassioned speech. Hearing it from someone else made it more real, and from the looks on both Eddie and Drake’s faces, it seemed as though they were taking the news more seriously. “But also, for the junk food recipes. And the movies and TV shows.”
“You hardly even saw us.” Drake struggled to find the words. The Americanized Brit turned to his friend Eddie and saw a dark cloud forming behind the other man’s eyes.
Drake knew what was going through Eddie’s mind.
The Emperor-for-Life Etienne Marseilles was remembering everything he’d done while Chaos had been down in the simulation, pretending –with reasonable skill- to be Garth N’Chalez. There was a lot of regret in the storm brewing inside Eddie, and as well there should be; at the end of the day, when you stripped away all the glamor and glitter and glibness percolating through Garth Nickels, there was one thing he was above all else.
Dedicated to ensuring the safe rebirth of the Universe and as many people currently living in the Universe as humanly possible.
As Etienne Marseilles, Eddie had spent the majority of his time attempting to unravel the mysteries of the now-bogus Ushbet in the Box, revealing to Garth precisely what he intended on doing with any and all fresh powers he uncovered, literally outing himself as a foe to contend with.
“Meh.” Garth dismissed the statement with the flick of a hand. “Didn’t matter. Saw you guys that one time before I got my head blown off…”
“Oh man, that was right fucked up.” Chaos laughed. “Dude, when I went to the Uni with Rommen and we both watched me get my head split, I was like whatttt and the look on Rommen’s Kansasonian …”
“Kansan.” Eddie supplied apathetically.
Chaos shook his head. “That can’t be right.”
Garth made a face. “Mmmm, no, I think it is.”
“That is not a word.” Chaos planted his feet. “No way.”
“Pretty sure it is.” Garth pretended to check a dictionary, going so far as to point to an invisible entry in a nonexistent book. “See? Right here. Kansan.”
“That’s stupid.” Chaos felt he’d made his feelings on the matter very clear, so he continued. “Anyways, bro! Rommen looked just awful. Like he was in the Twilight Z…”
“This is all fun and games and everything,” Drake ignored the look on Garth’s face and Chaos’ unhappy gesturing, “but there are more important issues at hand. Like…”
Garth leaped on the opening. “Like Eddie’s retarded decision to become God of Reality 2.0? Like how did I actually do what I did? All that stuff?” When Drake’s handsome mug went stiff as a board, the Kin’kithal snickered. “See how fucking irritating it is to be cut off? It’s super irritating, like I said.”
“I wasn’t … I wasn’t really …” Eddie’s voice spiralled into silence.
“Yes.” Garth interrupted, tone cold as the void between the stars, and just as empty. “You were.”
***
Bitter silence filled the area. Colossal amounts of awkwardness soon followed as everyone shifted their bodyweight from one foot to the other. Chaos –perhaps the most uncomfortable with feelings because of his artificial nature- decided to wander around a bit, humming the theme song from The A-Team, allowing Garth to work out his issues with Drake and Eddie on his own.
“I can explain.” The words tripped from Eddie hastily, jumbling themselves up and coming out in a rush.
“I’m certain you could find some way to justify your actions, Eddie.” Garth tried sounding anything less than completely choked, knowing immediately that not only was it not working, that he didn’t even really care.
Yes, the incongruity had a terrible habit of corrupting people absolutely, and yes, perhaps he’d sort of set Eddie Marshall up to take a big fall, but still.
There was only one entity in all of the Unreal Universe that was perfectly suited to be in charge of the infinite sheathes of Reality 2.0, and that person was most definitely not in the room, and was even more definitely not organic. Not a guy from San Francisco. Not a dude born in England, and sure as fuck not a completely handsome badass paradoxical Kin’kithal.
Even someone utterly under the incongruity’s sway and transformed into something completely mental because he’d spent the last five thousand years playing Emperor all by himself should’ve been able to see that, especially when that someone had access to a certain Kin’kithal’s memories.
"It's not what you think." Eddie stammered, feeling the perfect fool. Between Drake's insistence a short while ago that doing anything with or to the Ushbet and the revelation that it'd been Garth all the time, subtly using the promise of greater power to out him as precisely the kind of person who shouldn't be trusted with any power at all, he was feeling … foolish.
And betrayed, to a certain extent, though again, there wasn't anything he could really do, not now he'd been caught red-handed. Even the festering hatred that'd soured his mood towards Nickels had dissipated.
Sure, the man was responsible for introducing Naoko to a very dangerous lifestyle, but
at the end of the day, she was Latelian. Growing up in the Latelian Regime, especially under Doans' rule and as a half-breed, she'd been in danger from the moment she'd been born.
Death by God soldier, death by Order of the Chair, death or worse by disenfranchised 'full-blooded' Latelians ... any one of those horrible fates had lurked around every corner, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
What difference between those possible destinies and the one that'd befallen her? During his preparation to bring about the end of the Universe, Garth simply could not have ever planned on someone like Jordan Bishop, nor could he have ever even hoped to comprehend the absolute depths a man like that would descend to in search of revenge.
"It kind of is." Garth said sadly. "From the moment you were able to see my specific, exact plan for the birth of Reality 2.0, you made your choice to cut me out. You rationalized it as repayment for what's happened to Naoko, you convinced yourself that you'd be a better Godlike being for what comes after this Unreality, but the truth is way different. You saw your chance at perfectly realized power the likes of which no one can truly comprehend and you reached out to grab it."
"You tricked me." Eddie shouted hotly, face turning crimson. "If you hadn't pretended to be an Ushbet, none of this would've ever happened! Why would you even do all this?"
"The moment I realized that the only thing that could possibly be fueling this whole Groundhog Day/Inception thing you've got going on here was the incongruity..."
"How did you figure that out?" Drake wondered aloud, smirking a little bit at the flicker of irritation on Garth's face at being cut off mid-sentence yet again. "Sorry. Mea culpa."
Garth waved away the apology. "Working from the basic principles of what’d be required for a full-on simulation capable of providing a penitent with the kind of experience necessary for absolution and extrapolating, it pretty quickly developed that there isn't anything in this Universe that could do it. I know, I know, end of the day, it was kind of a leap, but after the bullshit I ran into over in Arcadia, I found myself embracing the notion. Soon's I saw the color of the field, that was just the nail in the coffin."
"Did you know it was us?" Eddie asked, dreading the moments that were coming soon. With most of the simulations destroyed by Garth's masterful ploy and with control over the incongruity's remaining assets under siege by Chaos' manipulations, there really wasn't anything he or Drake could do to get out of the mess they were in.
"Nah." Garth looked at Chaos, who shook it's head and snorted. "Not until I revealed myself as Fake M'Tai. More than a little surprised to see you here in the future, and I was honestly on my way to revealing who I was, but then you went and did that whole 'I am going to kill Garth and steal all his power and become fucking Skeletor bullshits', which kinda ruined my bonhomie. I was especially overtaken with your reasons for coming here. That was really cool."
"'Cool', he says." Drake found all kinds of reasons to be annoyed with Garth's words. "We traveled all the way here to help you, only to find out you didn't need our help, and that you were more than a little disingenuous as to who and what you are."
"Oh, I love it when this happens." Chaos chirped. "It's so cool."
"What is he … it … talking about?" Eddie demanded.
"Ahhhh." Garth smiled that famous lopsided smile of his. "He's referring to the fact that our chat has kind of looped around in on itself, neatly giving me the chance to do a nutshell."
"Garth loves nutshelling." Chaos fist pumped. "Mostly because he loves the sound of his own voice, but also because he also loves feeling like the smartest person in the room at all times, when in point of fact it's because…"
"Hey!" Garth stamped on Chaos' wiry foot. "No, but yeah, it's true. I love nutshelling. So. Before I finally get to the good stuff, let me break down what we've learned so far. One, I cheated and edited my memories, focusing on Samiel's time in the spotlight as the thing of most regret so that I could just basically chill and eat pizza and watch video games and stuff. Two, I ran what you guys would call an unfair con on Eddie, which, too bad so sad, you fell for and outed yourself as a thirty thousand year old jerkbag. Three, through Chaos pretending to be me, I done went and jacked control over the incongruity."
Garth looked at Chaos. "That about sum it up so far?"
"Basic brass tacks." Chaos nodded. "You … you gonna tell 'em what really happened up The Line?"
"Gotta, especially if they're gonna properly understand how I did all this here, in the incongruity."
"I think it's a bad idea." Chaos hazarded slowly.
"Yeah, but you also thought it was a good idea to drive Rommen completely batshit insane before he eventually decided to try and murder you, so." Garth eyed Drake and Eddie while he and Chaos bantered back and forth, feeling genuinely sad for them both; they were as deflated as flat footballs.
"He showed signs of being one of Samiel's pet projects right away! Talking about Uncle Sam the whole time? I mean, even ignoring the thin stink of temporal revision washing off that dude, come on! The only thing he didn't do was, like, put on a cape and run around the Arcade shouting 'BLAH, I AM EVIL!' at the kids!"
"Can we roll this along?" Eddie demanded, with Drake concurring right away. It was weird, wanting to hurry everything towards the ultimate conclusion, especially when there was a really solid chance that whatever was coming their way, it wouldn’t be Emperor and Android friendly.
"Okay, okay." Garth rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs. "The first thing you gotta know is, I didn't massage any memories of my time in the 21st century, but pretty much everything on the other side of my jaunt to the future is edited like you wouldn't even believe. Let's start right from the moment I popped out into Samiel's waystation..."
Chaos rubbed his hands together. "Oh, this is so good!"
***
It was evident from the semi-distracted squints on both mens’ eyes that they were still trying their best to dig into their hijacked systems, and Garth honestly thought about letting some of the old incongruity juice flow back into their grasp, but in the end he decided against it for a number of pretty good reasons.
One, as much as Eddie was behaving like a man who’d been beaten at his own game, Garth just couldn’t get over how quickly he'd leaped at the chance to gain more power than the substantial amount he’d already held.
Putting power back into Eddie’s hands –even a little smidge- might prolong the moment or turn them down a much darker, much less ‘hey, everyone gets to live for a change’ moment.
Two, while Drake was still –and probably permanently- afflicted by the logical existence he’d endured for the last five thousand years, the disagreement between them wasn’t nearly as awful as either man pretended; if it were, if Drake had been truly as enraged over the betrayal and his five thousand year prison sentence, the two of them would’ve been trying to murder each other damn near from the start.
And three –and this one was mostly for no other reason than because he could- Garth had no goddamn intention of letting anyone have this kind of power ever again. Though that bit was going to be kept secret until the very end.
“We’re waiting.” Eddie smacked the balustrade angrily. The only time they’d ever been countered on this side of the wormhole that’d led them to the Unreal Universe, and of course, it’d have to be by Garth motherfucking Nickels.
“Hold your shit together, Smails. He’s thinking.” Chaos flipped Eddie the bird.
The whole exchange had Drake laughing his ass off. “If a fucking groundhog shows up and starts dancing to Kenny Loggins, I am out.”
Garth nodded once. “Okay. Here we go. This is only going around once, and there probably won’t be time for questions or answers once we reach the finish line, so I’ll try and keep things as simple and as sweet as possible, okay?”
When both men nodded begrudgingly, Garth readied himself. At his side, Chaos mimicked his pose. “I assume you both spent an unhealthy amount of time examining my life, especially the ti
me I spent up The Line?”
“Know thine enemy.” Chaos intoned, suitably enough to be on stage.
“Stop that.” Garth smacked Chaos in the back of the head, but it wasn’t hard enough to disturb a single quadronic line. “Okay. So. Winding the dial on the chronometer back a bit, I am trapped in Las Vegas, more or less, by the downright dirty maneuverings of one Delbert Granger, Senior Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation…”
“Ohhhh, did you see what happened to him in this version?” Chaos interrupted. “Like, I mean, I know the guy was nothing more than an illusion, kinda, but goddamn. I wouldn’t wish that kind of shit on anyone, and I’m supposed to help you destroy a whole fucking Universe.”
“Yes, Chaos, I saw what happened to Granger, and yes, it was awful, and yes, you are going to help me destroy the Universe so no, it didn’t really matter.” Garth made an apologetic face to his oldest and dearest friends. “Like I said, he’s new to talking. Anyways.
In Vegas. Trapped. Told by Granger that unless I breach Samiel’s hotel…”
“Gentleman Jim’s.”
“Thank you, Chaos.” Garth continued on without slowing. “Gentleman Jim’s, some kind of toxin or nerve agent or bombs would go off and everyone inside the hotel would be killed with Vegas itself becoming the backdrop story for a new John Clancy FPS video game. So I agreed, partly because I really am all about helping people out, but also because the guy had some of those bullshit Zigghead-ready weapons. They pack a wallop. So I went in.”
“Where, eventually, you met Lissande.” Drake supplied half-heartedly, trying to imagine what it’d been like for a man of Garth’s stature, to suddenly be confronted by an ordinary –crooked, but ordinary- man in possession of weapons capable of countering a Kin’kithal’s powers.