Emperor of the Universe

by David Lubar

  “So, how do we buy stuff?” Nicholas asked.

  “You need to deposit funds or use your personal credit,” Clave said.

  “How do I do that?” Nicholas asked.

  “At the moment, you don’t,” Clave said. “You have nothing of value.”

  “What about you?” Nicholas asked.

  “Sadly, at the moment, I’m in about the same position as you. Except you’re broke and trying to get home. I’m broke and trying to figure out where to find a new home and how to replace the cargo I lost.”

  So, no holo-suit? Jeef asked.

  “No new one. But you can borrow mine.” Clave plucked the device from its shoulder mount and knelt by the cart. The holo-suit wasn’t actually a suit, but a slim box the size of a stick of gum with an array of lenses on top. After strapping it to the utility chamber, he told Jeef, “Say something,” and pressed the tattooed tip of his forefinger against a spot beneath the lenses.

  Something, Jeef said.

  “It’s now set for your voice,” Clave said, lifting his finger. “Try it out.”

  Cow, Jeef said.

  And, just like that, there was a cow in the room.

  “Wow. You look so real,” Nicholas said.

  “Impressive, in a beefy sort of way,” Clave said.

  Jeef remained silent.

  “What’s wrong?” Nicholas asked.

  I don’t feel any different, Jeef said.

  “But you look amazing.” Nicholas tried to give Jeef a reassuring pat on the back, then yanked his hand away as it passed through her flank.

  “Very cow-like,” Clave said.

  Nicholas gave Henrietta a nudge with his forefinger. “Beautifully bovine,” she said. “If I were a bull, I’d be in love. I’d be bringing you flowers. Or hay. Or something. You are the most amazing, awesome sack of milk that—”

  Nicholas wrapped his fingers around Henrietta’s mouth, cutting off the excessive flow of compliments. “You look very nice, Jeef,” he said.

  Really?

  “Really. Wait, I have an idea!” Nicholas snapped his fingers, fortunately using the hand that wasn’t currently muzzling Henrietta. “Stay right here.” He ran to the cooking area and grabbed a large metal tray from a counter.

  “Look at yourself,” he said, holding the tray in front of Jeef. “This is what we see now.”

  There was another silence. But it felt like a happy silence to Nicholas, not a sad one like he’d sensed from Jeef so often. And indeed it was.

  Late that morning, Spott’s parents led Nicholas and his companions out of the apartment. Henrietta rode on his shoulder. Jeef rolled along next to him, though anyone who looked—which was everyone—saw a cow. While the Beradaxians were used to aliens of all sorts, there were few visitors to the planet who looked anything close to Jeef. Quadrupeds rarely showed an interest in leaving their planet.

  The concert hall was large, but plainly decorated. “We saved a place of honor for our guests,” Spott’s father said, pointing to seats in the exact center of the room. Nicholas and Clave sat down, placing Jeef’s cart between them.

  “I hope he’s good,” Nicholas said. There was nothing at all on the stage. Not even a microphone. Or a backup band. His parents had a small truck full of sound and lighting equipment for their shows.

  “There’s definitely a crowd,” Clave said.

  Every seat was filled.

  I can’t see, Jeef said.

  Nicholas unplugged the leads, lifted Jeef from the cart, and put her on his unoccupied shoulder. He glanced from gerbil to beef, and back. “I feel like the world’s weirdest pirate.”

  “Or coolest,” Henrietta said. She let out a parrot-like squawk.

  The lights dimmed. Spott walked out onstage. He was dressed in a sleeveless top of loose orange material and simple white pants.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said as he kicked off his shoes. “And thank you to my friends for rescuing me.”

  “That’s me,” Clave said to the Beradaxians seated behind him.

  Spott tapped his foot against the stage seven times. The audience responded with seven taps.

  Spott sang.

  Nicholas’s jaw dropped. Not far. And not for long. But it dropped. The music was hauntingly beautiful. It seemed to come from a place deep inside the singer, and it resonated into two, then three, and then four distinct voices, all in harmony. Eventually, the first song ended. Spott began another. This one had two voices, along with a rhythmic bass sound. The third song, in a solo voice, was just as magical.

  An hour passed, though Nicholas had lost all awareness of time. He felt he could listen to Spott sing for an entire day without tiring of his voice. That was good, because Beradaxian song cycles last from five to seven hours. Beradaxians have a great love of music and huge bladders.

  The second hour started.

  “I have to capture this,” Clave said. “It is beyond belief. The universe needs to know about him.” He pulled out his sfumbler.

  “No!” Nicholas said, grabbing Clave’s wrist.

  Clave wrenched his arm free. The sfumbler flew from his hand and landed in the aisle. People turned to stare at Clave. Nicholas saw a flashing blue light in the handle of the sfumbler, but no enveloping purple light. “What’s that mean?” he whispered.

  “It’s broadcasting live,” he said.

  Nicholas wanted to turn off the sfumbler. But he couldn’t just get out of his seat and push his way to the end of the aisle. Nearby Beradaxians were already staring at him and Clave after their whispered conversation.

  He almost lost his train of thought as the next song, which had a strange, jazzy rhythm and alluring counterpoints of two chanting voices, seized his attention. But he pulled himself away from the music and asked Henrietta, “Can you turn it off?”

  “No problem.” She scampered down his chest, slid along his leg to his shoe, and hopped to the floor. Nicholas saw the light blink off after Henrietta bumped against the sfumbler.

  “Thanks,” Nicholas said when she climbed back onto his shoulder. He turned his attention to the concert.

  So did countless others, all across the universe.

  OUT OF CONCERT

  Tens of thousands of Xroxlotl fans had amassed at the arena for a direct view of the stage. Millions more took spots in sub-arenas that filled every bit of land, and floated on all the waters, around the rest of the planet, where they would view the stage through a light-and-sound-bending-and-magnifying technology that allowed them to feel as if they were right in front of the musicians. Only those who saw the event from the planet’s surface would get to enjoy it live. Other Xroxlotl fans would have to wait for the release of the recording.

  Behind the stage, Xroxlotl waited. And they waited some more. The one thing their fans didn’t know was that they were not even as smart as a sack full of dirt. (We’ve already seen that even a sack full of dirt is capable of thought. As is the dirt, without the sack. And the sack, itself, for that matter.) They could barely breathe without instructions, let alone perform a concert. And the one who gave them their instructions was currently drifting through space, thanks to the destruction of his headquarters.

  The crowd grew restless. But they’d paid huge sums of money for their seats—especially in areas with an actual view of the stage. Some of them killed time by viewing sfumbles or other entertainment. One of them, while searching for the latest episode of Cooking Across the Universe with Fleexbeezle, accidentally stumbled across an amazing streaming clip of a Beradaxian singer. He showed it to everyone seated near him, even though the scene lacked captions or narration, and shared it with his friends, some of whom were also at the concert. His friends shared it, too.

  It was that good.

  So good, it went univiral.

  It didn’t take long for someone to figure out that the singer, along with most of the audience, was a Beradaxian. The crowds on the fringes left their seats. First, in a trickle, and then in a wave.

  Eventually, even those in
sight of the stage, despite having paid unimaginable sums for the privilege, started to leave. Just moments later, after a frustrating delay due to the incompetence of his retainer, Emperor Zril arrived on a landing pad near the stage, expecting to find a planet bursting with millions of donors who would bring him back from the edge of death with the gift of a portion of their vitality.

  No such luck. The cupboard was bare.

  Soon after that, the emperor sapped everything he could from his entourage.

  It killed all two thousand of them on the spot, but their vitality wasn’t anywhere near enough to bring about a 178th rejuvenation.

  And then, after the horror of seeing his own body start to decompose, Emperor Zril died. For good. And for the good of all.

  CURTAIN CALL

  Toward the end of the fourth hour of Spott’s performance, aliens began to trickle into the concert hall. There were no seats, so they stood in the rear. And then, as more came, they filled the aisles. Spott seemed slightly startled at first, but then gave himself totally back to his singing.

  “I think you have some fellow sfumblers,” Nicholas said when he noticed that scattered among the crowd, aliens were holding a variety of flashing and flickering devices.

  “Clearly, a bunch of unskilled amateurs,” Clave said.

  As the concert ended, with a haunting solo-voiced repetition of the opening song, the audience responded in the traditional Beradaxian display of delight, by raising their own voices in song. The sound almost turned Nicholas’s bowels to water, but he survived. And he was thrilled for Spott. This had to be one of the most amazing homecomings of all time. Nicholas was both glad and sad that his own homecoming would be noticed by nobody.

  Crowds thronged around Spott as he left the stage, but he managed to make his way toward his friends.

  “You were amazing,” Nicholas said.

  “Thank you,” Spott said.

  “I sort of let the word out across the universe,” Clave said as he retrieved his sfumbler from the aisle. “You seem to be rather universally popular.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Spott said. “I never thought anyone off planet would appreciate me.”

  “Do you mind if I capture a quick shot of us?” Clave asked.

  “Of course not.”

  The instant they finished, Nicholas said, “I think we need to get away from here pretty much immediately.”

  “I understand,” Spott said. “I deposited funds from the concert into your account, Clave. And I had fifty j-cubes delivered to your ship.”

  “Wonderful.” Clave put his left index finger in Spott’s right nostril. “We’ll meet again, my friend.”

  “We will.” Spott turned to Nicholas. “As will we.” He stroked Henrietta’s head and gave Jeef a pat.

  “I hope so,” Nicholas said. He braced himself for some sort of bizarre or uncomfortable alien farewell gesture, but Spott threw him a hug.

  “I guess that’s a good thing about mind reading,” Nicholas said as he returned the embrace.

  “One of the best,” Spott said after they’d stepped apart. “Take care of yourself, my clever friend. And listen for your song. It’s out there somewhere.”

  Nicholas pushed through the crowds of aliens that had converged outside the concert, along with Clave, Jeef, and Henrietta. All the way to the shuttle, and all during the ride back up to the ship, they talked and marveled about the performance they’d heard.

  “It’s a big universe,” Clave said. “With a lot of wonders.”

  “I wish I could see more of it,” Nicholas said.

  “I’m sure you will,” Clave said, which sounded to Nicholas slightly better than we’ll see, but not anywhere near as promising as I’ll pick you up a week from tomorrow and we’ll go looking for another supernova to ride.

  They boarded the ship.

  “Ready to go home?” Clave asked.

  “For sure. And I’ll be there before my parents.” Nicholas pulled out his phone to check for messages. “Roach brains—it’s dead.”

  “It’s organic?” Clave asked. “I had no idea Earth had reached that stage of technology. But I guess that explains the smell.”

  “It’s not organic,” Nicholas said. He sniffed his shirt. It didn’t seem all that bad. “The battery’s dead. That’s all. But I don’t have a phone charger.”

  “Battery?” Clave asked.

  “Sure. It holds electricity.”

  Clave started to laugh. “Holds electricity? Why in the world would you want to do that?”

  “Don’t you use them?” Nicholas wondered how a civilization that had space flight and the ability to build underground cities would never have developed something as simple as batteries.

  Clave held his hand out. “Let me see it.”

  “You aren’t going to text a picture of your butt to all my contacts, are you?” Nicholas asked.

  “Why would I do that?” Clave asked. He studied the phone for a moment, then inserted it into a slot in the console on the bridge.

  “Is that a charger?” Nicholas asked.

  “No. It’s an adapter.” Clave tapped a series of buttons. “This won’t take long.”

  While Nicholas waited, he sniffed, again, and caught a faint whiff of a familiar stench. He looked over at Jeef, who seemed to be trying to do a handstand with her cart, then turned toward Henrietta, who was perched on his shoulder, and mouthed the words, Do you smell that?

  Henrietta slipped her snout inside his ear and whispered, “I’ve been smelling it for days.”

  “Is it Jeef?” Nicholas asked.

  “I’m afraid so,” Henrietta said. “I think all those crashes, before and after she got the cart, have taken a toll on her wrapper.”

  “We’ll have to figure something out.” A jumble of ideas ran through Nicholas’s mind. He could try the fridge or the freezer when he got home. Though he wasn’t sure how he’d hide Jeef from his parents. Or maybe there was some kind of preservative for meat. It was possible rotting away wouldn’t harm Jeef, since she was already ground up. Though she did seem to be speaking less and less.

  “Hey, Jeef, do you feel okay?” Nicholas asked.

  My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust, Jeef said. My skin is broken and has become loathsome.

  “Ew…” Nicholas said. He’d never heard her say something so gloomy or hopeless. “We’ll fix that, as soon as we get home. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”

  Nicholas turned his mind back to the problem, but his thoughts were broken as the console pinged. Clave plucked Nicholas’s phone from the slot and handed it back to him. “Here you go. It will charge from the ether.”

  “Ether?” Nicholas asked.

  “Barbarians…” Clave muttered.

  Nicholas stared at his phone. There were no new messages. That wasn’t a huge surprise, since his parents were traveling. But the battery icon had the tiny lightning bolt that showed it was charging. That was a huge surprise. “How…?”

  “It’s complicated,” Clave said.

  “Ether was in a lot of movies,” Henrietta said. “The universe is full of charged particles. I guess a device just needs to be adapted so it can absorb them.”

  “That’s it?” Nicholas asked. “Anything can stay charged?”

  “Yes. That’s it,” Clave said.

  “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  Nicholas stared at his phone. “Forever?”

  “Forever.”

  “This will be so awesome when I get home,” Nicholas said. He thought about all the times he’d stressed over watching the solid white rectangle inside the battery icon shrink into a tiny sliver.

  “Take a seat,” Clave said, spinning back to the nav panel. “I need to give us a boost toward the jump node.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” Nicholas strapped in.

  “That’s odd,” Clave said.

  “What?” Nicholas asked.

  “I feel like the ship is slightly tilted. Maybe the grav
engine is out of adjustment. Do you feel it?”

  “Yeah. Just a little,” Nicholas said. He leaned from side to side and tried to figure out exactly what was different.

  Clave pointed at his console. “It’s all reading fine. Oh, well. It’s no big deal. I’ll have the system checked out the next time I get the ship serviced. I’ll probably do that right after I drop you off.”

  “I can’t believe I’m finally going home,” Nicholas said. “It’s been an amazing adventure. I wonder whether the concert made the news. Or whether the Yewpees know we were there.”

  “Let’s see.” Clave activated the broadcast.

  “And in our top story,” Stella said, “physicists have made an alarming discovery. The expansion of the universe has slowed and appears to be grinding to a halt. At which time, it will begin to contract toward an all-consuming point scientists have dubbed the devouring singularity, located inside the remains of the planet Zeng. Though, at the moment, it’s not a singularity, and it appears to be not so much devouring as atomizing. Not that the end result will be all that different, once everything is consumed.”

  “What?” Nicholas screamed. “Heaping, steaming roach brains! We’re all doomed.”

  “Do I have to bite your nose again?” Henrietta asked.

  “No. I’m okay.” Nicholas took a deep breath.

  “Calm down,” Clave said. “You’re thinking like some child who has no idea of the size of the universe. It will take forever for that to happen. We’re talking about the whole universe. Even an experienced pilot like me has trouble grasping the magnitude of that.”

  “Scientists are deeply concerned,” Stella said. “While the initial contraction will be slow, it most likely will accelerate at a pace that indicates the entire universe will be consumed in roughly three years.”

  An ad for exotic sports cars appeared next to Stella with the caption: Spend it while you can.

  “Three years?” Nicholas said.

  “That’s only an estimate,” Clave said. “It could be decades, or even centuries. Scientists never get these things right.”