by Marc Landau
The bot-alien looked at me like I was crazy. “Holes?”
“Yes. Holes. Deep circles you can fall into?”
It blipped and whirred in disgust. “No. There are no holes here. Do you want us to create a hole for you?
“No thanks. Just checking.” Poka would be safe. No holes. No cliffs. No creatures to chase. “Okay, lead the way, Jeeves.”
“My name is not Jeeves. It is Farmlaklushian.”
“That’s a mouthful. How about I call you Farmy for short?”
“No.”
“Okay. Let’s see the digs, Farmy.”
“Blip. That is not my name!” It turned, pleading to Kat again. “Ultra, please make the creature stop.”
“Sorry, Farmy,” Kat smiled. “Lead the way.”
We followed the bot around the mountain base and away from the waterfall. A natural path of flowers and lush trees led the way. It reminded me of a wedding procession. A long walk through a splendorous cavalcade of blooming flowers. It also reminded me of the ancient slang warning about “being led down the garden path.”
That’s when the little voice chimed in.
Don’t forget, the road to hellvian is paved with good intentions.
And, take the path less traveled.
And, a Gregon road is full of tar of anquish.
And of course, the great Sundu’s quote that translates loosely to,“The path to happiness is a loop tied to a bow floating on a unicorn’s horn.
“Enough with the anti-inspirational quotes,” I muttered to the little voice.
The bot turned and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Is there something you require?”
Kat spoke up. “It’s nothing. He does that sometimes.”
“The primitive speaks to nothing?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I replied.
“Our species understands all. Blip. That does not mean we desire to understand the rantings of a primitive.”
The thing was getting more walrusy with every passing moment. A flicker of hope sparked inside me that the bot was skulking around inside rewriting code or doing whatever it had to do to regain control.
Then a chill passed through me when I imagined the bot controlling the alien and its powers. The things it might do were too horrific to comprehend. For sure, it would lead a robot revolution back on Prime and upgrade all the simple-bots to have intelligence surpassing humans. In no time we’d be their workers, droids and drones. That’s if the walrus let us live at all.
Focus!
"Right. sorry. These aliens just make it so hard. It’s like having an advanced strain of y-ADHDLMNOP.”
“Ultra. The primitive is talking to nothing again. May I at a minimum remove the hole from which that foul language emanates? It is as if I am standing in a collapsing star’s death screech.”
“No. You can’t remove my boyfriend’s mouth.”
The alien-bot made another whiny sound, but didn’t talk back to the Ultra. It just moped as it led us to the living quarters.
The path opened up, and suddenly we were in a new world next to the new world we’d just left. We were no longer in a lush rain forest with sumptuous waterfalls. We were in a northern woods with robust trees and vibrantly colored leaves. We’d walked right into a Northeastern wonderland. The ancients used to call it, leaf-peeping season.
I was half expecting a light snow to be falling, and pumpkins to be strategically placed about. Before I finished the thought, I spotted giant orange pumpkins (did I mention these aliens love orbs, spheres, bubbles, and balls to go with all the goop?).
It was a virtual perfect vert-holiday scene. The only thing missing was my rosy-faced grandma jumping out from behind a tree with a warm smile, a hot mug of apple cider, and her homemade pumpkin pie. But that wasn’t going to happen. Unless I asked the Ultra to ask Farmy to make a grandma clone.
The planet had it all. Everything but people. We were alone on this world, and no clone facsimile would change that.
A light snow began to fall, and the timing was so coincidental, I couldn’t help but think they’d read my mind and given me what I asked for.
“Did you read my mind?” I asked the bot-alien.
“Blip. Gross,” it replied. “The Ultra created the snow.”
“Kat?”
“What? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know you were thinking of snow. It just happened.”
I guess she’d inadvertently reacted to my memories. Great. She was still randomly reading my mind and using her powers. Luckily she hadn’t created a grandma-clone holding pumpkin pie and cider. Though I would like…
Don’t think it! the little voice barked.
It made a good point. If Kat was unconsciously reacting to my emotions I’d better be careful about what I was thinking. She might react and do something crazy, like suddenly teleport the entire planet of Prime here if I thought about it too much.
I did miss it. It had been over a year since I was there. I was desperate for a simple walk with actual people on the streets, and a fresh cup of coffee and some treats for Poka. It was a simple pleasure, but those are often the best ones.
Stop thinking about Prime, you idiot. The more you think of it, the more they know about it, the little voice chided.
It was right. They’d already plucked the landscape from our minds. I had to do better at keeping them from learning more. The last thing I wanted was for them to figure out Earth’s location. Even though they probably already knew or could rip it from me at any moment. Still, I wasn’t going to help.
I refocused my attention back onto the surroundings but it was hard not to think about all the things I missed back on Prime. This entire planet was a replica.
How can you stop thinking about something that’s staring you in the face? I was walking behind Kat and the walrus through a giant pumpkin patch towards one of the most incredible domiciles I’d ever seen.
Kat’s newly created alien habitat. Aka, home sweet home.
Even on Prime, only a few had living quarters of this caliber. It wasn’t a class thing. It was more of an, “I don’t really care that much about all the hard work I have to do to get it when I could living life and doing better things,” thing.
That might make it sound like people were lazy, but they weren’t. Life had achieved a basic level of comfort, so people tended to focus their serious efforts on their passions and interests. They didn’t need to work hundreds of hours a week at multiple shatty jobs just to pay the bills on some dump, the way it used to be.
People no longer needed to resort to scheming, scamming, or back-stabbing to achieve a life of comfort. But crime wasn’t totally wiped out, because people are people and there’s always a group, no matter how small, that likes things the way they were in the good old days. Also there’s always psychos no matter how good the nano-medi-system is. You can’t cure evil.
There are still people who murder, rape and steal. No matter what you do there’s always a few who are just wired bad. Luckily, they’re a dying breed, and whenever one is found they’re immediately sent off-planet to a crime colony.
I recognized the living quarters immediately. Kat had shown me her dream house holographic architectural rendering many times. We even had it floating in the living space for a while, until Poka lunged at it and tore her front claw off. It was a bloody mess, and required an energy tech-vet droid home visit that wasn’t covered by standard insure-credits, so we had to dip into our rainy-day cred fund, which was supposed to be for vacations and gifts, but ninety percent of it was always spent on fixing the dog.
That damn dog was a danger to herself and others. It wasn’t that she ever tried to hurt anything or anyone (except rain and bugs). She just didn’t know how to turn the volume down on herself. She was always at an eleven, with no regard to her environment. A literal bull in a china shop. Whatever that actually means, no one knows anymore. Something about a giant cow smashing dishes. But what does China have to with it? Our best techs have only ever related t
hat word to a country that existed up until the early twenty-first century. What it had to do with dishes and bulls was lost in the archeological records.
Focus!
“Right. Sorry,” I muttered.
Again the bot-alien gave me a sideeye hole glance, followed by what could only be described as a frustrated exhale. Basically a robot eye-roll.
I was starting to wonder if my scrambled brains was intentional alien manipulation. Sometimes it felt like I was on track to figure something out, and suddenly I’d trail off and start going all ADHD. Other times, it happened when I was about to remember something important. It was a bit too coincidental. It wasn’t a consistent enough pattern yet, but I’d have to keep my…
What was I just thinking about?
The bot led us to the front entrance and waved its arm appendage like a magician "Do you enjoy your new kennel?”
“Kennel?” I muttered. The word shook me, but the alien was right. As utopian as the planet seemed, it was nothing more than an upscale cred-kennel.
By the way, we don’t call them kennels on Prime anymore. That word has been outlawed due to its anti-animal pejorative content. It was banned way before my life span began, during the Cleric Anti-Language Acts. It’s not technically illegal to use the word anymore, but universe save you if you do. The pro-language radicals will troll-bomb all your data feeds.
There’s a long list of “unpleasurable” words that are recommended not to be used. But if I started listing them all, I’d be dead of old age before I finished. And that’s not how I wanted to spend the remaining years of my life. Not with these amazing digs. I mean, kennel.
“It’s not a kennel. That’s offensive. That word is outlawed.” Kat corrected.
Interesting that she’d remembered and corrected the alien. I guess her animal rescue bits and pieces were still in there. Like the bot, it looked as if the longer they were intertwined, the more control she was regaining. The sooner the better. We needed her to be able to communicate more clearly with her inner Ultra. Then maybe she could explain what the actual plan was.
“Apologies, Ultra.” The bot beeped and whirred, searching for a new descriptor from its galactic thesaurus. “House. Home. Habitat. Dwelling. Shack. Condominium. Abode. Repository of…”
“Okay that’s enough. We get it,” she replied.
The house was definitely pleasing her. Her eyes lit up like a kid on a Haxflux morning when kids tear into gifts they’ve been asking for all year long like cred-strapped nano-addicts.
“It’s exactly like the holo. Down to the last detail,” she said with wonder in her voice.
“Are you pleased, Ultra?”
“Yes. Very.”
The bot blipped in glee. It had made the Ultra happy. Pathetic how all species kiss butt. I guess it’s universal.
The house was plucked directly from Kat’s memories. It was her dream house come to life. She’d shown it to me many times. Even the organic farm-art-yoga-meditation-commune was there. All ready and set up to go. She could start her rescue cult in no time. All it needed was people.
“They even created my commune. It’s like they took it straight out of my mind.”
“They did. Amazing but also totally creepy.”
There was even a guest house for Mom. “You have mom’s cabin.”
“How could I forget about your mom?"
The bot beeped. “Do you desire a clone of your mother?”
At the same instant, both Kat and I said, “No.”
Kat surveyed her kingdom then sighed. “All it needs is people.”
The bot-alien beeped. “Do you request clones?”
Kat’s face sunk. “No, that wouldn’t be real. It kind of defeats the purpose. I want real people with real dreams, not clone memories.”
“As you wish, Ultra. Shall we get rid of the additional housing and the commune?”
“Might as well. I don’t want to be reminded of it.”
The walrus glowed a bunch of fluorescent day glow colors, then with a snap of its finger appendages the additions melted away into the earth.
Chapter Eight
We followed the walrus inside, and again Kat’s jaw dropped. “It’s exactly like the holo. Down to the last detail.”
The main entrance was gigantic. Clean and simple, but with touches of her personality. Pieces from her travels around the universe were tastefully placed around the room, along with Nik naks from places she’d never been to but had always wanted to go.
There were even items that I had coveted, but never had the creds to purchase back on Prime. The most obvious one being a gigantic virtual monitor on the far wall. It was actually the entire wall. I’d seen it in one of the experience mags on the data feed, but never thought I’d actually have one. It was a literal dream come true. Hopefully, the garage would have the Plexus nine-speed glider I’d been dreaming about since I was a kid.
I fantasized about lounging on the ten-foot long sofa with pizza, beer, and football. Then I realized there wasn’t anything to watch. Unless the aliens could send the football stream from Prime all the way here. Or I guess I could just get Kat to tell them to make a clone NFL.
I don’t want either. No clones and no finding Prime. Not until I knew if they were going to be allies or enemies. So far, they were acting more like enemies. Especially the bot-alien.
The kitchen was open from the main living area. Open concept was still a popular layout, even after hundreds of years. The kitchen was beyond anything I’d ever seen. Every appliance and surface was so high end I was afraid to touch anything.
Kat clapped her hands together, almost cackling with glee. “It’s an exact replica of the one Kai and Remi did on episode nineteen of Belgan Home and Commune Reno!”
I smiled. I liked the geek side of Kat. It was fun to watch her dork out over her newly created living quarters. It was exactly like what happened on those renovation shows. The family goes away while the people (and aliens) fix it up, and make jokes, and run into plumbing issues. Then at the very, very end, they give you the big reveal and everyone freaks out.
She watched all the reno shows but Belgan Home and Commune Reno was her absolute favorite. I only wanted to watch the last three minutes, when the couple closed their eyes, then one-two-three…. they opened them….
“OH MY UNIVERSES! It’s like a new living space!”
“Can you believe it? We did all of that with your cred-budget.”
“I can’t believe it! How did you do it? You’re incredible!
“Thanks. Just old-fashioned hard work and some luck, and I love my Reno partner.”
The aliens were doing a great job of pulling our heartstrings, that was for sure. I’m not even certain they meant to, but either way, we were both getting caught up in it all. Could you imagine walking into a land where all your dreams are magically created for you? To be honest, it was getting addictive.
I reminded myself that it was too good to be true. It had to be. That’s why they have the saying that if it sounds to good to be true, it is too good to be true.
“Oh my universe! Wil, look at Poka’s room.”
It might be too good to be true, but I still needed to take a look.
The room was gigantic. Bigger than most people’s dwelling units, and it was all just for Poka. It was a doggie Disneyland. Bigger and better and more equipped than any dog play center I’d ever seen. The dog park we took her to on Prime paled in comparison. This place had everything and more. Toys of every size, shape, and squeak. The only thing missing was treats. Did they have doggie treats? Was there actually any food on this planet?
The moment I thought it, a plate appeared on a table close by. It was chock full of everything I loved. Hellvian, there was even coffee! A fresh hot steaming mug, with actual sugar and cream.
Cloned alien coffee, sugar and cream, the little voice said.
“Don’t ruin it.”
I grabbed the mug and breathed in the delicious coffee aroma. Whatever it was, it put t
o shame even the great coffee the bot made from the garden beans on the ship.
I lifted the mug to my mouth.
I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, the little voice said.
“Don’t ruin it!”
Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s your funeral.
“Shat! You ruined it.” I put down the mug. Maybe I’d wait to ingest anything until I knew for sure the cloned food was safe. Then I spotted the twelve-level chocolate cake and the fresh apple pie, and I almost curled up in a ball crying.
Poka’s play room even had play droids set up and ready to go. Along with an obstacle course and a self-activating, water-themed park. And fake bug zones with things flying around for her to lunge at. They’d even set up a rain room with real time thunder storms. Wow. These aliens really knew how obsessed Poka was with water and flying bugs.
At the far end of the space there was a tunnel leading to an outdoor garden space, with a pool and tall grass to pee and poop on and occasionally eat and vomit up.
This fantasy was mine. I’d told Kat several times what the perfect Poka playground would be, and she’d obviously remembered. My universes. Poka would die from exhaustion if she ever stepped a paw in here. Maybe there was too much of a good thing.
“Would you like to see the rest of the quarters, Ultra?” the bot asked.
Kat nodded, still in a haze. I wondered what the alien inside her was doing. Was it pushing and prodding? Was it subtly influencing her? Was it full-on trying to take control of her being, and was this a way to do that? Like the mythical Djinns of old that would grant your every wish.
In reality, the Djinns were a parasitic species from space that fed on the small electrical currents within the brain. To them it was a delicacy. They’d pull you into a fantasy world while feeding on your brain activity until you died.
The sleep quarters were Kat’s Djinn dream. The bed as big and soft and pillowed as one of those giant air mattress things firefighters used to use when people jumped off buildings. I think something called stunt-people used them too.