by Mike DiCerto
The soft whine of the atmosphere generator eased down to nothingness, and all onboard lights went out. With a mighty shove, the escape pod was launched out into the black hand of space. Oafy laughed.
"We have two minutes left, my large-lunged love dove!” Angie cried.
Caffrey had momentarily blacked out. He hadn't anticipated such a violent push and had a brief but sincere thought of writing to the Vicar of Self-Incrimination and suggesting that should someone volunteer their own demise they at least be subjected to low G-forces upon their disposal. He quickly dismissed the idea when he realized that no one in this place and time did much writing and, besides, finding a stamp, never mind a mailbox, would be quite a chore in itself. He opened his eyes, and they adjusted to the traces of starlight beaming in through the portholes. Oafy was still laughing.
"It's time we try our little experiment,” Caffrey announced, rubbing his temples and leaning to the controls. “Ready, Angie?"
"Ready."
"We're going to open up a brand new temporal branch, but copy the frequency and wave-forms from the ten-minute period before The Moby Dick was fried."
"You'll wind up with a temporal twin,” Greppledick postulated.
"No,” Angie interrupted, “I will clip the wave forms of the frequencies that describe the twins of myself, Poe 33 and Quarky. Violet will also return. Although I will perform that horrid task under protest."
"That's the spirit, Angie-girl."
"We have one minute, ten seconds until destruction,” Angie reminded the crew. “Ten seconds until Moebius engagement!"
"Here we go! Nine ... eight..."
"It will never work!” screamed Oafelia.
"Seven ... six ... five...” Caffrey continued.
"Viva O.D.O.R!"
Caffrey slowly pulled the acceleration lever, and the engines rumbled.
"Four ... three ... two..."
"I give of my essence!” cried Oafelia.
"One!” Caffrey applied full throttle. A bluish glow illuminated the cabin, followed by a sudden shower of sparks. Caffrey and Greppledick threw their arms before their faces as all went dark. All went silent.
Caffrey was baffled; then Angie realized what Oafy'd done.
"She killed herself. She peaked her own life voltage. Surged every amp of her current into the circuits of the Moebius Strip Generator and fried herself."
"And took the Moebius Generator with her,” Caffrey said in disbelief.
"Yes. Yes, my poor, doomed darling."
"We have less than a minute,” Caffrey muttered.
"Thank the cosmos!” Greppledick praised. “Trust me. It'll be better for all of us."
Not appreciating Greppledick's option, Caffrey tore a panel off the wall and began pulling fuses and tearing wires.
"What are you doing, electro-muffin?"
"One of these wires must control the destruct device,” Caffrey insisted, having a hard time with a particularly thick cable. “We might not be able to stop the clock, but we might be able to disengage the actual explosives."
"What is that?” Greppledick said, pointing to gray mist entering the pod in a micro-thin hair-like stream. The mist gathered in a thickening blob that began to shape itself into a familiar form. Greppledick watched in amazement as the smoke formed itself into a sphere. A metallic sphere.
"Peebo?"
The android bounced up and down excitedly then sent out a finger of wispy smoke that entered the fried Moebius Generator.
"What's he doing?” Greppledick was amazed at Peebo's antics.
"We have twenty seconds! Caffrey!” Angie called out.
Peebo began wobbling wildly. Greppledick watched carefully, smiling as the message was communicated.
"Try it again, Caffrey!” Greppledick shouted.
"Try what?"
"Your Moebius thruster experiment!"
"It's fried!"
Greppledick slapped his hand on his thigh. “We have ten seconds, nephew! I have no problem having my aged and crumbling body scattered across this solar system, but if you have any future ambitions that require the use of your physical self I would try the thruster again!"
"That sentence used five seconds!” Angie cried. “Three! Two!"
Caffrey looked at the thruster level. He looked at his uncle. He thought about Violet and the possible use of his physical self. He dived to the controls and gave it a yank.
The world around them melted. Like a cookie tray of sixty-four crayons in a pizza oven, the fabric of space-time dripped and bubbled and came apart in an incredible display of intersecting colors and fractals. There were hues Caffrey's eyes had never seen before—weird shades of love. Tints of sadness. Tinges of joy. It was as if all emotions, all experiences, were represented as pigments. Drops of inks in crystal-clear water. The cosmos warped and twisted.
Caffrey had no sensation of his body nor did he see the bodies of his friends. There was no solidity. He wasn't floating through space-time as much as space-time was floating through his mind—a mind located everywhere at once, yet nowhere perceivable. Perhaps this was the other side Greppledick had bragged about? It was beyond pleasurable. It was a moment.
Then the moment became a series of moments flashing and speeding up like a filmstrip getting up to proper projection speed. The bulb flashed. The screen burned. The theatre went black.
* * * *
"Good morning, my master. There is a cup of hot Earth coffee awaiting you with one sugar and a dash of cream,” Angie said. “My God, you look disgusting! I warned you, Caffrey!"
Caffrey was back aboard The Moby Dick, and it took a moment for him to realize what had happened. He was turned inside out like a tight rubber glove pulled off from the wrist. He looked at his own hand and noted the pulsing veins and twitching muscles. His brain was still spinning, and he clasped his palms atop his head only to recoil in disgust. Greppledick was standing by the window, a six-foot-tall stack of bones, muscles and veins, silently staring at the beautiful ringed Komquista. Yin was still asleep, curled in a grotesque inverted ball of blissful ignorance. Poe 33 sat in a lump on the floor, chips, hydraulics and circuit boards exposed for all to see.
"Now, that's pretty disturbing,” Caffrey agreed, studying his hand as it reached into the food prep unit to retrieve the cup.
"Can someone please explain where we are?” Greppledick finally spoke.
"More like when we are,” corrected Angie. “We are moments before The Moby Dick was grabbed by the tug beam. However, since we opened an alternate temporal branch, there are changes. The wicked witch Oafelia is gone. Sweet Yin and you, my gentlemen friends, are here, inverted and horrid; and if I had a stomach its contents would be projected about this cabin. And, if you look in sleeping compartment B, Violet is, indeed, sleeping soundly."
Caffrey smiled at the tone Angie used to speak the name “Violet.” There was obvious agitation swimming like salmon against the flow of her audio stream. Perhaps jealousy.
Peebo emerged from the stern of The Moby Dick, glowing crimson once again. He was, oddly, not inverted.
"Thank you again, Peebo,” Caffrey nodded. “I have no clue what you did or how you did it. But thank you."
Greppledick approached the floating android and studied it carefully. “You are amazing. You weren't even affected by the Moebius Generator's inversion of time and space. When I built you, little Peebo, I had no clue of the abilities you would self-perpetuate. Carbon extraction and sculpting. Anything. You can create or recreate anything you come across using the carbon molecules of your environment. Incredible."
Greppledick turned to Caffrey. “He learned that on his own. I built him to kill time. I had a couple of days of boredom aboard that miserable Arachnid's ship. In a matter of hours Peebo evolved to levels that should have taken decades!"
Caffrey turned to Angie. “Angie, make double-damn sure we're cloaked. Last thing I want is to get back into the tug beam and have a little repeat of our previous escapade. I suggest we awaken Poe and wai
t for the extraction of Haptiwoo. Then we'll enter the wormhole."
"I refuse to travel another meter with you looking like that!” Angie objected.
Caffrey studied his uncle. “How do I look, Uncle Greppledick?"
The old inside-out man stepped closer and took a good look at his nephew's innards. “A bit moist. Otherwise, quite well, boy. Quite well."
"You look like a man of ninety, on the inside. I would never guess by those guts that you were a resurrected old geezer of one-eighty."
"Thank you,” replied Greppledick with a wry, toothy grin.
"You see, Angie-girl. We're fine."
"I liked you better as a snake,” she sniffed, floating off in a huff.
Caffrey smiled after her then went over to compartment B and banged on the wall. Violet jumped from her sleep.
"Wake up! Time to move on."
A startled yip sounded. Yin had awakened to discover his once soft and lustrous fur had a strange, meaty feel.
"My boy! You've rejoined the living!” sang Caffrey gleefully.
"Would someone please explain why I have X-ray vision?” the Bopple desperately wanted to know.
"Not quite, boy. We used a Moebius Strip Generator. We managed to open a brand new temporal branch. The little side effect is a typical Moebius effect."
"Is that all? Good work, Quarky,” Yin applauded.
Another scream filled the cabin. Violet sat staring at her body.
"Good morning, Violet. You look exceptionally good this morning,” Angie mused.
"Don't tell me,” Violet mumbled “Moebius?"
Caffrey, Yin and Greppledick all nodded coyly. Caffrey stepped up to Poe 33 and turned to look inquisitively at his uncle. “Are you going to awaken His Eminence?"
"I suppose.” With a click of the Portsmith's on/off switch, Poe 33's interior shimmered with a quick twinkle of colorful lights. He came to attention.
"Please. Await your turn. You will have ample time to worship me. Thank you."
"Welcome back, Poe,” Caffrey said, patting the robot's exposed back.
"Quark Caffrey? Is that your spleen I see?"
"Yes, Poe. And this is my rib cage and this red thingee here is my liver. Looks surprisingly healthy,” mused Caffrey. “You look a tad exposed as well."
Poe 33 gave himself the once-over. “Looks like I've been Moebiusized."
"How are you otherwise, my boy?” Greppledick asked.
"I am fine, but why was my worship service interrupted? It was going so well."
"You have an important assignment,” Greppledick reminded him. “You must be reunited with the L'Orange."
Poe 33 seemed disinterested. Caffrey explained, “Haptiwoo will be devolved in moments, and we will follow its primal material into the dimension of Nefarious Wretch. With any luck we will find both my friends and your Master."
"He is no longer my Master,” Poe 33 said softly.
"Bite your tongue, Poe!” scolded Greppledick. “The full surrendering of the ego is the first prime Portsmith precept."
"I feel no connection. I haven't for some time. Caffrey seems to be more in tune with the Great L'Orange than I."
"You are going through a period of confusion. You must have experienced electrical surges to your ego centers. But you will be back to your old self. You will serve your Master as I programmed you to,” the old man insisted with increasing conviction.
"I don't think so. I think instead he will worship me.” Poe 33 seemed to smile with a newly found resolve. “Yes. I believe if we are ever reunited, I shall be the wise one and he'll play the role of subservient lackey."
"Poe!” Greppledick was about to explode, but Caffrey took him gently aside.
"One problem at a time, Unc. Relax. Look at your heart! It's pumping like a tweezle rat in heat.” He moved over to the navigation console.
Greppledick took a deep breath and nodded, studying his circulatory organ as it pounded away.
"Angie? Are we prepared for trans-dimensional shift?"
"Yes. Can you do your favorite sweet audio angel an itsy-bitsy favor?"
"What's that?"
"May I please activate the Moebius Generator during our wormhole transit? Get this horrid group of meat and bones back to normal?"
"Fine, Angie. Fine."
Moments later—again—aboard the Crystal Guise, the crowd of fervent psychotics cheered and drooled as Planet Haptiwoo and its poor, music-loving populace began their transition to the dimension of Nefarious Wretch. As the swirls of matter drifted into the opening wormhole like water down a drain to God-knows-where, Caffrey and the crew aboard The Moby Dick patiently waited. As the final bits of Haptiwoo tumbled down the cosmic loo and the dangers of colliding with the violent stream of particles was at a minimum, The Moby Dick made its move.
Slowly, the ship drifted towards the opening punched in the black sheet of space. Greppledick took one last glance at the Crystal Guise and its disco-ball moon scattering starry light on the thick wafts of fog farting from the rear of the mother ship. Yin glanced sideways out the starboard porthole at the ringed star of Komquista and resisted the call to wax poetic. Caffrey, however, gave in to the call.
"We raced across the stars. Rings ringing. Singing. We were the armor-plated three-headed lizard-tube men of Mars."
"What's that from?” Violet wondered.
Yin volunteered the info. “It's from the Marmalade Skies second album. Part two of Xing Xang's triple quest—Orbus Tres. ‘Reptilian Fugue in C.’ It's a beauty. I've heard it performed live. Kick-ass guitar solo."
Caffrey concurred. “Thank you, Yin, my little pooch. Maybe one day my aurally deprived uncle will see the Skies perform live, and his mind will open to more musical possibilities than classical Denlopo chamber tunes."
"There is no other music,” Greppledick declared with every ounce of snobbery he could muster.
"Rock music, at its best, is of equal musical complexity, but it surpasses your pompous tunes in lyrical meaning, social profundity and subtle beauty."
"Flying porko poop!"
"Brilliant comeback, Unc! Angie, play us a sample. How's about something soft and limpid for my virginal-eared uncle?"
"A little Sabbath?"
"Perfect."
"Paranoid” exploded from the ship's speakers. Caffrey's ears twitched as the song started. It was playing backwards.
"Bloody Moebius!"
"Guess now we can check on those satanic messages, huh, Quarky?” Yin jested.
"Angie, make damned sure the Moebius Generator engages on final thrust into the wormhole! One second before entry for a duration of point-five seconds. That should do the trick."
"Thank you, my soon-to-be normal love."
It was mere moments until the last of Haptiwoo's former glory swirled away into the anomaly. The Moby Dick's engines engaged, racing the ship towards the closing wormhole, stopping for a half-second as the Moebius Generator flipped time and space—providing a similar albeit much shorter neural roller-coaster ride for all on board. The Moby Dick and her crew entered the hole, which closed behind them with melodramatic timing.
* * * *
Caffrey Quark, a voice spoke directly into his mind, do you have an invitation?
The world around him was frozen. Violet, Yin, Greppledick and Poe 33 were all stuck in a moment of time. The voice was odd. It changed with every syllable. It morphed seamlessly from one tone and timbre to another. It was a constantly changing stream of voices holding no rhythm or pattern.
Who is this? Caffrey wondered as he tried to move his body. He, too, was frozen.
I will grant you entrance as my special guest.
Are my friends there? Caffrey asked, feeling as if his mind was melting away.
Never mind them! Wouldn't you prefer a seat of power? You must be impressed with my abilities.
Bite me, returned Caffrey.
The Portsmith is weakening. He will convert soon. Take a lesson from his wisdom.
He has converted. T
o an air guitar-playing, palm-drumming, knows-every-lyric Rock music fan, Caffrey replied in his head, jabbing the entity's appropriate mental buttons. I think he even mentioned wanting to sleep with David Bowie. So, once again, creepo—bite my pale coolie.
There was a demented cry, seeming to fill Caffrey's head with thick, burning tar. As it dripped out of his ears, the distinct sound of a roulette wheel spinning sent his mind bouncing around on the pegs of universal chaos, masquerading as randomness and chance.
It was as if he blinked.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kashmir
Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face,
Stars to fill my dream.
I am a traveler of both time and space,
To be where I have been.
To sit with elders of the gentle race,
This world has seldom seen.
Led Zeppelin
Caffrey looked around his cabin, and the first thing he noticed was Yin scratching at a patch of fur on the back of his neck.
Fur. There was not a muscle, vein, bone, chip, gear, circuit board or organ visible anywhere on board. Greppledick, Poe 33 and Violet were all tossing little silent glances about. Peebo hovered, his red light glowing softly but outshone by the brownish light pouring in through the portholes.
"Everyone okay?” asked Angie.
All the heads onboard nodded in the affirmative. Violet unbuckled her straps and went for a peek out the aft port.
"Where are we?"
Angie was hesitant. “I am not sure. This location is nowhere to be found in the onboard map database. It's a peculiar piece of space."
An Earth-size planet the color of coffee sat in a moonless/sunless plot of space. Yet, despite the absence of a mother star, the planet was illuminated in a bright glow.
Caffrey squinted and stroked his chin. “Is it my imagination, or does the space around this world seem to be finite?"
Violet concurred in amazement. “It is. This world is in a cosmic box."
Indeed, the spherical space around the dark-brown world was at a minimum—perhaps ten kilometers in every direction to where the black void simply ended. No distant stars. No distant galaxies. No infinity staring back to elicit grand feelings of inferiority in the face of God.