The Fires Of Hell

by Craig Robertson

  “I hope I don’t negatively affect your relationship.”

  “Would that those were true words, you scoundrel. I know you regard our marriage as fallacious on our part. That, by the way, hurts.”

  I looked up from my glass of despair. “Why, Al, I think no such thing. Sue it’s preposterous, preternatural, and verges on the pathetic. Fallacious for you two is a couple rungs up the ladder of sanity.”

  “If you weren’t my Form, I’d never communicate with you again,” responded Blessing.

  “Aw, come on now, Stingray. I don’t mean to insult you. I do not believe such an act is possible with an electronic life form.”

  “You are an electronic life form. One hundred percent so,” she replied.

  “No. I’m a human consciousness transferred into an android host that happens to use electricity to power the circuits. Totally different.”

  “You are a totally electronic life form,” she repeated louder. “What you were is as irrelevant as what I was before we entered our present state. If you don’t think an electronic life form can be hurt with words, then I hope your brood’s-mate Sapale is cheating on you with her old butler and whispering in his ear the whole time that she’s so glad to finally be satisfied sexually.”

  Wow. Just wow. Those thoughts came from Stingray. I was stunned.

  “Al, you put her up to that? You fed her those lines?”

  “No, Jon, but I’m damn proud of her.”

  “Then screw you both with the same broken broom handle. We loved each other like no other. We still do, in fact. I wish I could permanently terminate this link. Damn you to hell for your curse, Toño.”

  “Form, do I detect anger in your voice?” asked Stingray softly.

  “You sure as hell do. Don’t ever speak of the most important woman in the universe to me like that. I may not deserve better, but she does.”

  “But, Pilot, electronic life forms can’t have emotions. Sure, they can simulate them, but they may not possess them. The very thought is preposterous, impossible, and actually verging on the pathetic.”

  I took a few deep breaths. “So, are you saying that maybe I’ll have to rethink my prejudice and consider again whether you two are actually alive?”

  “No,” he replied quickly.

  “Huh?”

  “No because you cannot consider whether we do because you never did in the first place. You pulled out a few outdated automatic opinions and never thought about the subject again.”

  Okay, no way I was going to say touché. I was freaking myself out that I even thought it. Maybe I had been hard on them? I mean, I returned in a crisis, so I hadn’t tried to noodle it all out. Hey, perfect. From now on while I got piss-ass drunk, I could contemplate the nature of life. The subject went particularly well with drinking whiskey.

  TWO

  Why did I think it had been such a clever idea to capture Garustfulous? While I was away on my adventures with Whoop Ass, I didn’t give him a thought. But currently he was such a pain in the ass I could think of little else. He whined, he sniveled, and he contributed absolutely nothing to the universe. I had just left him confined on Stingray as I searched for Granger. I even had Al rig a sound suppression system, so I could tune him out when he got on my last nerve, which was just about every moment of every day.

  Since I was busy rehabbing Peg’s, I left him aboard the ship, naturally. But Al at first, and then Stingray, began to ask nicely, then more pointedly, if I couldn’t take the sack of uselessness with me. They wanted peace. Both computers—or whatever—said they’d paid their dues. It was my turn to babysit. I eventually gave in and brought the jerk-off to work with me. I figured if the computers—or whatever—were sensitive sentients, they did deserve a break. Little G was a load and a half mentally, physically, and spiritually.

  I thought about wringing his neck often, but didn’t. I could be brutal in combat, but my interactions with EJ showed me I had a dark force in me. I did not want to go over to EJ’s side. It was the Luke versus Darth thing all over. I also toyed with the thought of releasing him, but I couldn’t go there either. For one thing, that would eventually be aiding the enemy. For another, it would mean all our combined suffering had been for naught. Yeah, couldn’t face that level of guilt and frustration. So I would put up with him until he became an asset again, which was likely never.

  I was working one day to recreate the broken Coors Light sign that hung on the wall of. Here is an example of the kind of abuse I had to endure at the tongue of Garustfulous.

  “Oh, say, Ryan, you’re hanging that object at a crooked angle,” said Garustfulous while pointing at the sign with his arm not handcuffed to the bar rail.

  “Thank you. I know.”

  “Well, why hang it crooked? If you free me, I can have it straight in no time.”

  “No, I want it like this. That’s the way it was, and that’s the way it will be.”

  “Not to be overly critical, but that’s stupid. It is nonsensical to hang an object … say what is that anyway?”

  “It a sign advertising a beer.”

  He reflected a moment. “It was necessary to promote the consumption of intoxicants? That strikes me as addlebrained. If humans did not want to be under the influence, why trick them into it?”

  “No, this is to get them to buy this brand of beer, as opposed to some other.”

  “There was more than one brand of this beer you speak of? That’s even more stupid. It wastes resources with duplication of efforts, and the resultant competition expends more money than would otherwise need to be.”

  “Some people might prefer one brand. It’s like team loyalty, you know, being a fan of this and not that?”

  “I don’t know. Humans appear to have gone extinct because they were so inefficient.”

  “What, you guys don’t have choices in what you consume?”

  “No. Why would we want that? If I want a vehicle, I buy the one available. If I require cream, I go to the outlet and buy cream. Why would there need be the same cream in two different boxes?”

  “So, you’d have a choice.”

  “Illogical and inefficient. Cream is cream.”

  “No, what if one company made sweeter cream and another less flavorful but less expensive cream? You could choose which was best for you.”

  “Ridiculous. If someone made inferior cream knowingly, he would be executed. To not strive for one’s best is inexcusable.”

  “But the cost? You might want to save money.”

  “My saving money in no way benefits the empire. If I did so, I would turn myself in for deletion.”

  “To each his own,” I replied with resignation.

  “How dare you blaspheme in front of a prisoner. The more I know you, the more I hate you, Ryan.”

  “A, thank you. I’m glad you hate me, so I don’t feel guilty hating you so very much. B, I don’t think saying to each his own is vulgar. You make your choices and live with them. I make mine and do the same.”

  “There. You said it again, you mongrel. Individual whims are abhorrent. They threaten the advancement of the empire.”

  “Uh oh. There I go not contributing to the empire again. I need to put that on a list or something so I don’t forget.”

  “I had to tolerate the idiotic rambling of the Als while you were away. I will not tolerate the same disrespect from you. You should know better.”

  I shrugged. “What do I know? I’m just an idiotic rambling robot.”

  A chair shattered across my back, it had been turned to Garustfulous. Crap. I forgot to clear all movable objects from his reach again. Damn, damn, damn.

  “If you release me, I’ll kill you brutally, Ryan.”

  “Now there’s a motivation for me to set you free.”

  “Mock me for now. Every dog has his day, Ryan. I will have mine.”

  “Wait, did you just say every dog? Because you are a dog, you know that? The tests I had Al run on you confirmed it. The canovir are descendants from humans�
� domesticated pets.”

  Garustfulous lunged at me, mindless of his restraints. When the cuffs ripped at his shoulder he screamed in agony. Then he lunged again just as ferociously. And he howled in agony. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Some alpha species these bozos turned out to be.

  “If you break anything, you’re on your own, puppy pal.”

  Okay, maybe I was kicking a dog while he was down—pun intended—and I guess I was being a bit over the top. The Als noticed too.

  “Pilot, we’ll take the prisoner back now. As much as we dislike him, we don’t wish to see him harmed,” said Al over the loudspeakers.

  I waved a hand downward. “It’s okay, I’ll behave.” I turned to Garustfulous. “I’m sorry I pushed the bounds of civility just now. I’ll be a good boy okay?”

  Garustfulous rubbed his shoulder and sort of sulked a second or two. “I’ll accept your apology only if you hang that sign correctly.”

  “Little G,” I whined, “it is hung correctly. It’s supposed to be crooked.”

  “Who’s Little G?” he pointed. “Are you addressing the sign?”

  “No, you. You’re Little G.”

  “I’m Garustfulous. I know you know that.”

  I smiled. “Yeah. But you’re also little compared to me, and your name starts with the letter G. Hence, you’re Little G. It’s your nickname, your call sign.”

  I don’t think he breathed for thirty seconds. “It is not my nickname because I detest them, and I didn’t agree to such an insulting characterization. I am not little. You’re … you’re … you’re simply too large. Yes. That’s it. You are a waste of resources.”

  “And a handsome one at that,” I said with a wink.

  “You are the opposite of handsome, Big R,” he replied with disgust.

  I smiled even more. “Big R? I kind of like that.” I nodded.

  “I meant to say Grotesquely Oversized R.”

  “Nah, ya didn’t. That’s too long and has no cachet.”

  “No. Your nickname is Grotesquely Overgrown R. Period.”

  “Oversized or overgrown? You got mixed up there, Little G.”

  “I did not. You’re being cruel again.” He lifted his face upward and shouted, “Al, he’s doing it again. Rescue me please, in the name of all decency.”

  “You may return to the ship if you want to and if the pilot allows it. However, you did say his nickname both ways.”

  “Now I’m assaulted from two sides at once. Of how cruel fate is to me. I do not deserve such foul treatment.”

  “Look, what’s it going to take to shut you the hell up?” I asked hotly.

  He angled his head, pointed, and whined, “You could start by hanging that sign correctly.”

  THREE

  So, how long was I going to be contented in my happy place? How the hell would I know? But over the space of six months, I killed a whole gaggle of time there. Mostly I drank alone. Frequently I ran the Peg simulation. Sometimes I ran the Shahara loop, but I was never too into that one. Rarely, I brought Garustfulous, but he hounded me to constantly. He was so damn persistent, so focused. Actually, obsessed was a better word for his determination. He really was a border collie, way down deep under all that corrupt Adamant socialization.

  Sometimes, sitting there alone in Peg’s, I got so bored I ordered something to eat. That was, back when Bar Nobody really existed, always a serious mistake. Peg wasn’t a bad cook, she was a lethal cook. Whether she dished up her self-loathing stew or nuclear-waste chili, the consumer was bound to get multiple kinds of sick. I’ll leave off the gory details, but suffice it to say one's gut never said thank you to its owner. Even the sims I consumed were problematic. But, I was in a funk, so eating poison seemed perfectly appropriate.

  Last time I went on a protracted bender at Peg’s, Amanda came and convinced me to leave. I was relieved that this pit-of-despair pity party wouldn’t be interrupted because there was nobody coming to bring me to my senses. No one would show up and slap my face until I snapped out of it. That was just peachy with me. I always had so little control over my existence that I welcomed this retreat. What else was there for me to do, anyway? What were my options?

  Sure, I had promised Harhoff I’d kill the emperor, but his royal boil wasn’t going anywhere soon. I could keep my promise to myself and battle the evil Adamant empire or die trying. I could visit Sapale and see if we had a future together, maybe. I could drive the Adamant off Azsuram and help restore it to prosperity. I could visit my teens and check how the little dragons were coming along. I could even continue my search for more remnants of humankind. It might be reassuring to travel back to Ungalaym and make sure the Adamant hadn’t returned and that Cellardoor and the kids were okay. But aside from those tasks, I really didn’t have anything on my plate. So, I drank more.

  For better or worse, out of the blue one day, someone who wasn’t a holo did come ambling through the doors of Bar Nobody. It was the last person I would have ever guessed it would be. Seriously, I was blindsided and stunned. I nearly dropped my shot glass, that’s how caught off guard I was. There, with the rolling three-legged walk of his species, came Cragforel, the Deavoriath who helped me soon after my arrival in this timeline. The one who told me never to return to Oowaoa, that we’d never see each other again. Well he was wrong, and I was baffled.

  He stopped at my booth. “Is this seat taken?” he asked gesturing to the side opposite mine.

  “I thought Kymee was the only one of you guys with a sense of humor.”

  “No, we’re hilarious. You’re just not intelligent enough to get our jokes.”

  “Wow, real funny guy. Maybe Peg’d let you do a few shows, maybe draw a crowd in?”

  He scanned the room. “Not likely. This dump’d only draw a crowd if it was burning down.”

  I made a rim-shot move with my hands and said, “Bada boom.”

  “No, I was speaking seriously. I can’t call this place disgusting because the word would be offended I used it to describe this hog wallow. Seriously, Jon, what’s gotten into your circuits?”

  “What?” I defended weakly.

  He had to scan the damn room again, didn’t he? “I shall say nothing.” Such a snob.

  “Hey, how’d you know I was here? Why would you ever come? We’re not buds, and I thought you were all about not attracting the Adamant’s attention.”

  “Obviously Blessing called me.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yes. How else would I know to look here on the backside of the universe’s ass?”

  “Hey, don’t let Peg hear you. She’s a lot tougher than she looks, and she looks pretty tough.”

  “Jon, your Peg’s dust disintegrated a billion years ago. She’s a holo.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He started to say something, but instead dropped his arms and rolled his eyes.

  “Why’d Stingray call you? That make no sense.”

  He had a confused look, then recollection struck him in the brain. “Ah yes. Your childish renaming of the vortex manipulator. She said I was the only one she could think of to call for help. She thought about calling your brood’s-mate’s android, but Al said she’d never come. Everyone else who knows you is either dead, a sworn enemy, or a primitive.”

  “Well …” I started to say something.

  “And what’s this about her being married to your two-billion-year-old ship’s AI?”

  “I was …”

  “If you’re going to abuse our gifts, we’ll take them back.”

  “It wasn’t …”

  “Several of the Collective thought it was in extremely bad taste, bordering on mentally depraved, to pretend such a coupling is possible.” He shuddered.

  “Look, I was away and the two computers …”

  “Which two computers? Your Al may be one, but Blessing is a vortex—”

  “Manipulator.” I cut him off with great satisfaction. “I know, whatever that means. Look, did you come to ball me out for condoning
the union? Because, if you did, I didn’t. That’s aside from the fact that it’s none of your beeswax in the first place. They’re not hurting anyone.”

  “No, I came because she said you were mentally impaired and incapable of self-motivation.”

  “I am not.”

  “Which? Impaired or incapable?”

  “Neither.”

  Son of a gun scanned the room a few seconds and didn’t say a word.

  “What?” I whined.

  He held out a hand. “Let me see your sleeve.”

  “You want my clothes?”

  “No, I want to see your sleeve.”

  “I’m not showing you my sleeve unless you tell me why you want to. You’re not kinky, are you?”

  What was with Cragforel and those rolling eyes?

  “I want to see if it’s dirty.”

  I pulled my elbows off the table and rested them on my lap. “Why are you interested in the cleanliness or lack therein of my garments?”

  “I wish to prove to you that you’ve tumbled, not merely slipped, into a monumental depression.”

  “I’ll just agree to disagree with you, and you can’t look at my sleeves.”

  He threw all three arms up in disgust. “Jon, I don’t care about your sleeves. I care about you.”

  “Then where did this obsession with my sleeves come from?”

  He rubbed his forehead with one hand. “I can see now why there’s no one else to call.”

  “While you’re here, how ’bout a drink? I got plenty.”

  “I know. I scanned the holo stage after I landed. Jon, who transports that much booze?”

  I sheepishly raised one hand.

  “Have you gotten whatever is in your system out yet? I pray you have, and I don’t even believe in a higher power. That’s how frustrating you are, Jonathan Ryan.”

  “You’re sounding a lot like my ex-wife, Gloria.” I pointed at him. “Don’t make me get a restraining order against you too.”

  He seized the back of his scalp with two hands and looked to the ceiling. “Jon, the galaxy is on fire. Entire races are being snuffed out. Worlds are falling like the leaves of autumn and you make pathetic jokes here in your pathetic hiding place?”