Milky Way Marmalade

by Mike DiCerto

  "But you, Eagle 5! You may be my greatest find yet."

  Find? Caffrey could only wonder.

  "Eagle 5, I want us to become mates. Friends. Partners."

  "I'm honored—but this android and his—"

  "Yes. Blooth. I've heard.” His Him smiled and looked at Poe. “The Portsmith to the Mighty Blood of Og."

  "I'm sorry,” confessed Poe 33. “I have not a clue what you mean."

  His Him laughed loud and deep. “Very droll, 6 Iron. Very droll!” The Belkibon's face turned oddly serene. “Eagle 5, you may well be a One Human. It has been whispered in special circles that your entire family bloodline is intrinsically blessed with the Milk of the Grand Teat. The very reason your uncle Greppledick was favored to build the Portsmith. Let us be good, hearty mates, for all eternity. I can give you that. Eternity. With you and the Portsmith at my disposal, I can acquire the penultimate treasure. The L'Orange!"

  Caffrey gathered every ounce of restraint from every pore of his person and took a deep breath.

  "Sir, His Him, I have no interest in your little hobby."

  The old man closed his eyes, and his body went still again. The trio looked at each other questioningly.

  What the hell? Caffrey wondered.

  "It would appear he has died again,” Poe 33 decided after scanning the Belkibon's body.

  "He seems to have the same circuit problem as you do, Poe,” Yin whispered.

  "There is something putrid rotting in Denmark,” mused Caffrey, cynically.

  "Yes, my sweet Danish,” Angie agreed, “Something is definitely souring the milk. I think this fly needs to investigate from a new wall."

  "Do your thing, Angie-girl."

  Just as abruptly as His Him had slipped into his strange deathlike trance, the snow-white-haired Belkibon opened his eyes and was back amongst the living.

  "I am offering you partnership in what will become the most powerful ruling sect of all the O.D.O.R groups! Forget that poser Spydersloth and his merry band of fervent rump huggers! My plan is simple greed! Galactic domination. With me, you know where you stand!"

  Although Caffrey appreciated His Him's honesty, the despicable nature of the Belkibon's ambitions awoke his boat-rocker spirit. And His Him was a ship in desperate need of capsizing. Caffrey folded his arms and smirked. There was only one way to deal with him—push the buttons of his blood pressure.

  "Panties,” he said with perfect enunciation.

  "Eagle 5!” His Him's response combined fear, loathing and anger.

  "Jock-strap. Tap-i-o-ka. Can-dle-stick,” taunted Caffrey, leaning forward assertively.

  "Stop it!” demanded His Him as he jumped to his feet.

  "Mandlebrot,” Poe 33 said, deciding to toss his rebellious spirit into the ring.

  "Fish paste,” added Yin.

  "I am His Him! How dare you challenge my rules!"

  This time the voice echoed from someplace other than the small man's mouth. The room was vibrating, and small cracks were forming on the walls. The face of the man was suddenly blank and without the reddened flush.

  "Jockstrap!” Caffrey repeated, pointing out the courtyard door to Poe 33 and Yin.

  "You will join me or your friends are applesauce!” a voice from beyond the room threatened.

  "The other side of the wall, Quarky!” Angie whispered.

  "What?” Caffrey was confused.

  "I don't quite have the vocabulary, my hardbound Webster."

  "What is going on?” Poe 33 asked in a bewildered tone.

  "Blast the courtyard door!” Caffrey instructed the android.

  Poe 33 turned his upper body toward the rear courtyard door; but before he could aim, a solid steel slab dropped over it.

  The rumbling grew more violent and a Zorro-like gash opened in the crumbling wall. Pink light poured from the crack, followed by thick, musty steam.

  "It would appear he has thrice died,” Poe commented, noticing the petite man was standing still as a mannequin.

  "He's not dead, Poe. That's a marionaute,” Angie gasped.

  "I believe you are correct, Angie,” Poe 33 agreed.

  "A what?” Yin needed more information.

  Poe 33 obliged the pseudocanine. “A marionaute is a personality slave—an individual lifeform which has had its brain removed and replaced by a remote-control animation unit and trans-vocalization system. Used by folks unhappy with their physical appearance and of that financial strata that allows for a lack of conscience."

  "A gorgeous galaxy this is,” Yin grumbled with a frown that grew suddenly tighter, “My nose is picking up major stinkage."

  "Smells like old cheese rotting in a bowl of vinegar misted with the smoke from burning acetate,” Caffrey concluded, demonstrating amazing olfactory accuracy.

  Yin hopped onto the table and trotted over to the motionless marionaute, grabbed it by the belt, gave it a tug. The diminutive gent toppled over with a horrid thud as his snow-white head bashed off the table. The crumbling wall gave way and as the dust-cloud cleared, the truth of the man-behind-the-curtain became evident.

  Now that is a Belkibon, Caffrey said to himself.

  "Sit down! All of you!” Quagmo Dagmo ordered.

  He was immense beyond vulgar Belkibonian grandeur. He sat in the largest Vibrundaspooner Caffrey had ever seen. The room beyond was clouded with horrid, putrid steam scented with body odor and fat cheese oils that were perhaps decades old.

  "Angie, thank your maker you were created devoid of a nasal system,” he whispered.

  "He must be in the vicinity of two thousand kilos,” estimated Yin sotto voce.

  "He's in the vicinity of everything,” Caffrey noted wryly.

  "Very good, Eagle 5! Finally, a shimmer of wit!” Quagmo approved. “Enough of the feigned pleasantries and twinkleshite. My offer is now elevated to a threat. Either join me or rot in my menagerie forever."

  "Would you allow me an hour or so to ponder this? In my ship, perhaps?"

  The Belkibon grabbed a handful of creamed eechie pig from one of the six nearby vats and shoved the brown goo into his tremendous mouth as Caffrey posed the question.

  "You are the personification of droll,” Quagmo leered through the pasty pig. “A simple question requires a simple answer. ‘Yes’ or ‘menagerie?’”

  Caffrey smiled and gave his reply.

  "Bite my nipples!"

  The rage that spawned on Quagmo's face was only less horrific than the rising of his massive body from the tub of goop. Snapping, rubbery sounds insulted Caffrey's ears as impossible layers of rolling fat emerged like a school of whales.

  "Soldiers! Render these plebes to the menagerie!"

  Immediately, a dozen man-child soldiers appeared from invisible doorways sliding open around the room. Brandishing the colorful bubble-chamber weapons, they helicoptered in beneath their powerful prop beanies and surrounded the table. Caffrey and Yin exchanged looks of surrender, while Poe 33 appeared to sigh.

  * * * *

  It was rather cozy, as zoos go. They were in an empty section of a row of a dozen cells, each a rather generous ten-by-ten-meter square, which were undoubtedly the result of a Belkibonian concept of uncramped design. The walls and floor were finished in a rather pretty salmon-and-gray marble.

  Caffrey sat on the hefferbill-leather sofa and gazed at the blue crystal bars keeping him from freedom.

  "For a species of fat, disgusting creatures they do have an eye for design. Albeit, a bit garish,” he noted as he examined the chorus line of corpulent nude Belkibonian women painted on the ceiling.

  Poe 33 was scanning the atomic structure of the imprisoning material as Yin, poking his nose through the narrow space in the bars, sniffed the air for any clue that might aid them.

  "Anything of interest in the air, Yin-boy?"

  "Nothing but the faint odor of Belkibon sweat and toe cheese,” the little dog reported.

  "Poe?"

  "These bars are pure norasithe. A type I have never seen. None of my l
asers or particle cutters will make as much as a nick."

  "Angie?"

  There was no reply. After a moment Caffrey stood up and paced the perimeter of the cell.

  "I've spent time in far worse prisons than this. And I've escaped from cells with much tighter security. We'll link our minds and figure a way out."

  "I'm back my jailhouse, rock candy darling,” Angie whispered, surprising him.

  "Angie? Where were you?"

  "Just doing a little stealthy scouting. I've mapped out the facility. There are dozens of cages, tanks and chambers with quite a collection of exotic fauna. I even found the talking mymy. Taught him a few of Quagmo's favorite words. Started with ‘nipples.’”

  Caffrey laughed; and Yin trotted over, stood up on his hind legs and pressed his muzzle to Caffrey's ear. “I think it's time for you to seek a few answers elsewhere. Remove my collar, please."

  Caffrey threw an odd look to the dog and smirked coyly. “I do hope you're not suggesting I dabble in some kinky fetish? This is neither the time nor place."

  "Don't be ludicrous. Just to remove it,” Yin insisted, keeping his voice to a whisper.

  Caffrey did as instructed and studied the little fluff-ball appraisingly. “This is the first time I've ever seen you naked."

  It was quite true. Yin was wearing the collar the night Caffrey rescued him on that October evening in the West Village. Although there had been less than frequent baths through the years, Caffrey had always surrendered to defeat as Yin fought off any attempts to remove the old black-leather-and-silver-studded collar.

  "Unscrew the third stud from the left. Carefully,” Yin instructed, using his nose to sniff out any approaching busybodies.

  Abruptly, Poe 33 let out a screeching, metallic cry and launched himself against the bars.

  Caffrey eyed him warily. “What's wrong?"

  "I haven't the foggiest of ideas,” Poe 33 replied quite casually. “My fight or flight circuitry seems to be sending signals to my locomotion unit to get the hell out of here. Odd. I otherwise feel quite terrific!"

  "Please, Poe, relax,” Yin requested.

  After a bit of difficulty, Caffrey removed the small hemisphere to reveal a little compartment within. Inside was a small, translucent orange disk. Caffrey rolled his eyes.

  "Why does this bloody color make me cringe? I used to love orange. Such a joyous color. Filled with glee and childlike flamboyancy. Now it just makes me want to retch."

  "An O.T.H.E.R spy managed to swipe that sample from the private residence of another Belkibon, Quigmo Digmo."

  Poe let out yet another cry for freedom and began climbing the bars in an attempt to find an exit.

  "For Godsakes, Poe! Get down!” demanded Caffrey.

  Poe 33 peered down sheepishly from atop the bars. His legs seemed to be trembling with fear.

  "Once again, Quark Caffrey, I have not the haziest of clues. I seem to be having a bad reaction to that tiny sample of my Master's essence. Rather unexpected."

  "It would seem Poe 33's circuitry has been rewired to reject the very thing he was programmed to protect,” Yin concluded.

  "Rewired? Impossible!” Poe 33 protested.

  "Perhaps ideologically, Poe, but the reality seems to differ.” Yin was certain. “Can you self-diagnose?"

  "Of course. I have been self-diagnosing my systems from the moment of my lighting3."

  "Then we will have to have you examined elsewhere. Perhaps the One can illuminate us? Partake of the L'Orange,” Yin instructed with great reverence. “I want to confirm this. We need answers now."

  "Confirm what?” Caffrey asked.

  "That you are somehow connected intrinsically to L'Orange. That perhaps you are a One human."

  "I thought the high and mighty L'Orange permeated everything? Aren't my cells just naturally overflowing with the mystic marmalade?” Caffrey asked.

  "Overflowing is a bit of a hyperbole but, yes, Quarky, all of creation contains the essence of It—stored in hyper-dimensional folds of three-dimensional reality. Ideally, we all should be able to access its knowledge. This sample, however, is the only sample that exists in three dimensional space,” Yin explained.

  Poe 33, still hanging up atop the cell, qualified Yin's information.

  "The only sample that exists in 3-D space aside from the original cube that was my charge. The pure, singular substance that is my master—lost in the vast—"

  "We know, Poe,” Yin interrupted. “If you, indeed, are a One Human, Quark, partaking of this sample should launch you into the ante-conscious realm of the collective wisdom."

  Caffrey placed the disk carefully onto his palm. He shot Yin a doubtful stare. “How high of a dose is it?” He was a little concerned.

  "Dose? Dose? This is the essence of the Universal Wisdom, not an acid trip! Besides, it's cut with a special edible gelatin that has kept it safe within the sometimes heated, sometimes frozen stud of my collar. The actual amount of L'Orange is microscopic. Mere atoms."

  "I now recall seeing this little orange snot dot before.” Caffrey remained hesitant as he raised his palm to his lips.

  "Caffrey, we may be running out of time. We need answers. We have no idea what our friend Quagmo has in store for us. You must test the waters of your destiny. Eat it."

  Caffrey shrugged. It wouldn't be the first time he took a ride on the psychedelic choo-choo train. He closed his eyes, popped the disk into his mouth and stood motionless. He swallowed.

  His eyes widened like a flung-open shade and filled with orange light.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AND YOU AND I

  I listened hard but could not see.

  Life tempo change out and inside me.

  The preacher trained in all to lose his name.

  The teacher travels, asking to be shown the same.

  Yes

  Caffrey saw nothing. However, the nothing that he was witness to was like no other nothing he had ever seen.

  There had been instances in the colorful life experiences of Caffrey Trinesmart Quark II when he had seen very little. Nothing, true nothing, was another story entirely.

  What surprised him most was the color of nothing. He had assumed—the origin of this assumption remains a mystery—that nothing would be a black-as-coal-at-midnight-sans-lights-cannot-see-hand-in-front-of-his-face-whilst-blindfolded sheath of ethereal pitch. In actuality, nothing was a lovely shade of teal with gold trim.

  After he had admired the nothing for what seemed like days there came a break in the naught in the form of a distant silver ball. The silver ball rolled toward him, leaving behind a trail of rainbow trout, peahens and purple tapirs scattering off in every direction. The silver ball multiplied tenfold, each newborn sphere stretching and twisting into a chorus line of silver Crebbledog dancers. Like figures poured from liquid titanium, they began performing The Rancid Queen of Byrum, an ancient ballet Caffrey suddenly recalled seeing as a child.

  From atop the dancer's heads sprang multitudes of indigo blooms, reindeer horns and several lost puppies, who gazed upon Caffrey as if expecting directions home.

  "Odd,” he muttered as he watched the spectacle continue to evolve.

  The puppies folded themselves into ostrich-skin wallets, sprouted pigeon wings and clumps of chestnuts and flew away crying out “Pickaw! Senyip! Bartook!;” and Caffrey smiled, recalling the story of “The Three Lost Dormice,” a favorite tale told on cold winter nights when he was a lad.

  "Very odd,” he noted.

  Memories, like clothing from a jilted lover's closet, were being tossed out by the armful.

  "Not odd,” argued a voice that slid across the landscape to his ears. “This is a mere pittance of the collected works that is Caffrey Quark."

  "I'm a little baffled by the sequence."

  "I'm simply trying to clear a place to reside for a moment."

  "By rummaging through my brain?"

  "I am not rummaging your brain. I am rummaging your mind. Two entirely different animals. You
r brain is yours to keep. It will, however, rot once you pass on. Your mind you sublet from the consciousness of the Cosmos."

  "Who are you?” Caffrey asked. “Your voice seems familiar to me."

  "It is from the countless vocal memories you have stored in your mind. Whom you chose and why is for you to decide."

  "Uncle Greppledick. I'm hearing my uncle's voice."

  Caffrey tried to slap his own temple until he realized he had no body. No physical form to slap, kick or pinch back to the physical world.

  Relax, he advised himself, trying to stay calm and confident. It'll wear off. Just ride it through. Don't panic!

  "You're not tripping. Your mind has actually moved from your body to your consciousness."

  "Uncle Greppledick, please. Shut up. You're freaking me out."

  "I would imagine you chose your Uncle Greppledick's voice for a reason."

  "I'm thinking a lot about him lately. I've been haunted by his egomaniac android."

  "Do you like him?"

  "Who?"

  "Your uncle."

  "Why are you speaking of yourself in the third person? For that matter, why am I speaking for you in the third person?"

  Caffrey felt like he was on a Tilt-O-Whirl at Coney Island after too many beers and hotdogs at Nathans.

  Relax. Just breathe and relax, he told himself.

  "Relax, indeed, Caffrey Quark. I am not your uncle and you are not speaking for me."

  "Then what? Where is this voice coming from?"

  "You are doing something that every thing in the universe can do, yet very few attempt."

  "What?"

  "You have connected to the wisdom of the One. That's a capital O, by the way."

  "One what?"

  "The One.” The voice rolled across the landscape as a colorful wave.

  "Yin, are you playing with my head?"

  "Yin is back in the zoo of Quagmo Dagmo with your unconscious body, Poe 33 and the Revenant. I am what you like to call the L'Orange."

  "I don't believe in the L'Orange."

  "You don't even believe in your own current being?"

  "My current being is on an amusement park ride at the moment."

  "So, ride the wave. After all—it's all waves. All Music. All vibrations. Transcending upper dimensions of reality can be confusing to those not adept."