How to Save the Universe Without Really Trying

by John Cusick

  A small transport shuttle buzzed quietly away from the lights of Singularity City. It carried its occupants from the hubbub into the great nothingness above, where the largest hypergate in existence was no longer turning slowly, and where a small private space yacht, the Tin Can, waited.

  The hypergate system, as everyone across the galaxy was discovering right about then, was offline. Temporarily Unavailable Due to Heavy Traffic was the message winging its way across the Extraweb. Millions of ships hovered in immense traffic jams in hundreds of millions of star systems.

  We Apologize for the Inconvenience, the message continued, appearing on screens and tablets, whispered through radios and sub-ether sensors. Service Will Resume Momentarily—Sincerely, The Fogg-Bolus Hypergate and Baked Beans Corporation.

  If you enjoyed this message, please like and subscribe for more updates.

  The tiny shuttle docked with the Tin Can. Air locks pressurized, doors slid open with a cold hiss, and the prisoner was brought to the bridge.

  The bridge itself was on the top deck, open to the stars, protected by a transparent force field. There was a steering wheel and ship’s nav computer, and all the other accoutrements one would expect to find. There was also—and the prisoner’s eyes fixed on this almost immediately—a very peculiar-looking chair.

  The captain stood over a control panel, uninterested in the breathtaking view. With the space traffic stalled, the view was almost placid, like a lake before someone sets off some dynamite in it.

  “We have the girl,” said the Bog Mutant commander.

  The captain turned in his little chair.

  “You look like a bean,” said Lola.

  Goro Bolus chuckled. “Well, my dear, you look like an ape.”

  Lola supposed that was fair.

  “Put her in the machine,” Bolus commanded. The Bog Mutants picked Lola up and took her to the peculiar-looking chair.

  It was unmistakably a device of evil. Black and garish, no thought had been given to the subject’s comfort or aesthetic sense. Lola felt the blood drain from her face as the Bog Mutants strapped her in. Nodes were attached to the backs of her hands, to her temples.

  “You’re fortunate,” he said, turning back to his control panel. “It was delightful to torture the Foggs, but the information you contain cannot be extracted by such . . . indelicate methods.”

  “If you’re talking about the answer to the Question of the End,” said Lola, “I really don’t know it. Someone already told me what the question is, and I mean it, I really don’t know the answer at all.”

  “Oh, but my dear,” said Bolus with a smile, “you do know the answer. Perhaps you do not know that you know it, but you do. And that is why you are sitting in that machine. Shall I tell you what it is?”

  “No,” said Lola immediately. “It’s fine. I don’t need to know.”

  Bolus grunted. “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway.”

  He stood at her side and drew his fingers along the cabling in a way that made Lola’s skin crawl. “It’s a Truth Machine. A simple name for a complicated device. Once switched on . . .” Bolus leaned across Lola and flicked a switch. The chair began to hum. Lola’s spine tingled. “. . . the subject can speak only the truth and will answer any question given to her. The process is painless, which is good news for you, I suppose. But when the Phan arrive and ask you the Question of the End, you will answer it,” said Bolus, a grin slithering across his features like something alive trying to escape his face. “The Phan will be appeased. Now . . .” He leaned in. She could smell his breath, earthy and stomach turning. “Let’s test it out, shall we?”

  “We shall,” Lola heard herself say, and gasped. She hadn’t meant to speak. What she thought was translated instantly into words, without filter. “This is how Phin must feel all the time,” she said out loud, and gasped again. “And I don’t even feel bad about saying that!” She gasped a third time.

  Bolus looked pleased.

  “Tell me,” he said, steepling his fingers, “what is your name?”

  “Lola Ray.”

  “What did you have for breakfast the day after your second birthday?”

  “Peach baby food and mashed green beans in a baby-blue bowl.”

  “What do you want more than anything in the world?”

  “To own a reasonably priced scooter that gets great mileage.”

  Goro Bolus frowned. That last answer wasn’t quite what he’d expected, but the readouts confirmed the subject had spoken the unequivocal truth.

  “Very well,” he said. Bolus rose and strode to the door. “Make yourself comfortable, Ms. Ray. It won’t be long now. The end is inevitable.”

  “It is,” Lola said. “It’s already happened.”

  Bolus paused at the door. He turned slowly toward her, narrowing his beady eyes. Then, with a sneer, he left her strapped to the Truth Machine, in the company of the Bog Mutants and her own frantic thoughts.

  44

  THE SLEEKLY RED SHIP hurtled through space at several times the speed of light, a crimson streak of mind-blistering speed. And still it was too slow.

  “We’re never going to make it in time,” Teddy said, studying the controls. He and Phin were seated in the cockpit. It was a luxurious cockpit, outfitted with leather seats and crystal tumblers, one of which Phin held in his hand. His glass was filled with NectaPop, the most expensive soft drink in the galaxy. This, Phin thought, is the way to travel.

  “You don’t look very alarmed,” Teddy grumbled.

  “Hey, I’m in a limo that’s been converted into a taco stand by Bog Mutants,” said Phin. “And my stuffed bear is at the controls. Things are just pretty wacky right now. We’re headed into almost certain death. I’m going to take a moment to enjoy myself.”

  Teddy shook his head. He scanned the latest readout from the ship’s computer. “The hypergates have been put on lockdown. That means Bolus has almost certainly gained control. Look at this . . .”

  He turned the screen so Phin could see. A set of angry red digits were ticking down.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a countdown, Phineas,” snapped Teddy. “It’s a countdown that’s pulsing through the hypergate mainframe. And what do you think it’s counting down to?”

  Phineas swallowed and took his feet off the dashboard. “Um.”

  “It’s counting down to the arrival of the Phan. They’re on their way. Even now the hypergates are linking. Bolus has done it. He’s going to bring them through.”

  “Well, look,” said Phin, sitting up. “What are we supposed to do about it?”

  “We’ve got to stop Bolus, of course. There’s something else you might want to see.”

  A few keystrokes and the image on the screen changed. It was a security feed. The view was of a ship’s bridge, a very nice-looking ship’s bridge, though not as nice as the ship they were now piloting. A few Bog Mutants were standing at attention, disintegrators at the ready. Otherwise the bridge was vacant, save for a peculiar-looking chair and a girl strapped to it.

  “Lola!” said Phin. “Where is she?”

  “On Bolus’s ship,” said Teddy. “And if I’m not mistaken that’s a Truth Machine she’s strapped to.”

  Phin put down his glass and swallowed. “This is bad.”

  “It is bad,” said Teddy.

  “We’ve got to rescue her,” said Phin.

  “Indeed we do.”

  Phin sank into his seat. It made a lush, squeaking sound underneath him. They flew in silence for a while, the ship’s engines humming, the stars streaming past the view screen in a hyperspace blur.

  “I’m sorry,” said Phin.

  “Hmm?” said Teddy, focused on the controls.

  “I said I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “You told me to save her. You told me only I could do it. And I’ve completely flarxed it up.”

  This word, flarxed, wasn’t even a rude word. It was a word Phin had made up, since none in existence could express just how badly he’
d flarxed.

  Teddy sighed. “Phineas T. Fogg, you have a part to play in all this yet.” He turned to face Phin and smiled sadly. “You’re a good boy, Phin. No one knows you better than I do. I’ve been with you your whole life, and I see who you are when no one is watching.” He turned back to his controls. “You are my best friend.”

  Phin looked away, out the window, and blinked a few times. Then he blinked a few more times and wiped at his face.

  “How long until we reach the Singularity?” he said after a moment.

  “Another twenty-five minutes, I believe,” said Teddy.

  They flew on in silence, and then Phin cleared his throat, sat up straight, and said, “Well, we’ve got some time to kill. Let’s play a game.”

  One short, very distracted game of Apples to Gravleks later, the limo materialized a few thousand miles from the Singularity hypergate. Wrapped in a cloaking device, it slowly, stealthily approached the Tin Can, floating nearby. Unseen, it hovered just beneath the larger ship’s aft docking port, and there it waited.

  The limo’s airlock hissed, oxygen vented into space, and a hatch opened. To an onlooker it would have appeared as if a glowing doorway had opened in space itself. Debris began to float out, turning against the stars—bags of beans, loosely chopped lettuce, and cornmeal tumbled like stardust through the void. And then, a young boy in a space suit appeared, floating after it. The door closed behind him.

  “The yacht’s aft docking port is just above you,” Teddy’s voice buzzed in Phin’s helmet radio. “There is a maintenance hatch just to port.”

  “Ten-four, Tederino,” said Phin.

  “Don’t call me that,” said Teddy.

  With a small burst from the suit’s onboard jets, Phin maneuvered himself along the underside of the massive yacht. To his left the docking port flashed red, its edges rimmed with yellow-and-black safety paint. The maintenance hatch was considerably smaller and unmarked. Phin positioned himself beneath it. It was tricky to get the override panel open with the clumsy space suit gloves, but he soon got it. The hatch opened, and silently he slipped inside.

  Meanwhile, the Bog Mutants who had accompanied Phin and Teddy in the limo were staring out a rear porthole in wonder. They’d never seen such an incredible sight, a beautiful ballet of weightlessness.

  “Look at that!” said one, pointing.

  Amazed, they watched as a single tortilla wafted past the double-pane glass, catching, as it did, some beans and a bit of lettuce that happened to be floating in its path, and folding itself around them, neatly in half, to form a brilliant half-moon.

  “Amazing!” said another of the Bog Mutants. “So that’s how you do it!”

  “But,” said the third, “but then, how do we reach it?”

  They watched as the taco floated farther and farther into space and were stumped.

  45

  THE INTERIOR OF THE Tin Can was dark. Wood-paneled corridors stretched in two directions, studded with portholes. Phin, having shed his space suit and stowed it in a nearby hamper, crept down the hall.

  He could hear Bog Mutants arguing over a hand of pinochle. He backtracked and eventually came to a less comfortable section of the ship. Here were the engine room, the ventilation chambers, and the coolant tanks. Piping snaked along the ceiling, and the way was lit by halogen security lights that cast strange shadows as the ship teetered in space.

  Phin turned a corner and found himself facing another long corridor, this one lined with windows opening onto an interior chamber. He pressed himself to the wall and peered through the glass.

  His jaw fell so hard and fast, it nearly sprained.

  In a flash Phin had the security panel open and pulled the release valve. A door slid aside and he rushed through. The occupants of the tiny brig were nearly unrecognizable, huddled and broken, filthy and shivering.

  “Mom! Dad!”

  Wincing in the light, the prisoners looked up.

  “Buddy?” croaked Barnabus Fogg.

  “. . . Phinny?” rasped Eliza.

  What followed was one of the longest, tightest, stinkiest hugs in all of galactic history.

  “You guys you guys you guys,” said Phin, pressing his face into his parents’ tattered clothing. “Oh it’s so good to see you, I love you, I love you. You smell terrible.” He pulled back. “I just realized I’ve never smelled you guys before. Is this the way you always smell?”

  “Oh baby, my baby,” Eliza said, stroking her son’s hair and pressing him to her. “My precious boy.”

  “We’re so sorry we didn’t believe you, Phineas,” said Barnabus. “You were right about Bolus. He captured us.”

  “Evidently,” said Phin.

  “Where have you been?” Eliza said, taking in his appearance. “How on Earth did you get here?”

  “Oh, guys, I saw just like . . . so much cool stuff,” Phin babbled. “It was amazing. I wish you could have been there. I was on a cruise ship, and I met a superintelligent fungus core and his mushroom children, and did you know they have a ball pit on Luna?” Phin was unable to keep the grin from his face. “Anyway, it’s a long story. I’ll tell it to you as soon as I finish saving the universe.”

  “Phin, Bolus has rigged the hypergates together,” said his father. “We think he may be using them to open a hole in the universe.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know all this,” said Phin.

  “He’s bringing something through,” said Eliza. “We heard him talking. It’s some sort of alien consciousness from—”

  “Another dimension,” said Phin. “Yeah I know!”

  “We think he’s got that girlfriend of yours locked on the bridge,” said Barnabus.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” said Phin. “I love you guys but yes, I know all of this! It’s under control. Also, gross, she’s not my girlfriend.”

  The Foggs fell silent.

  “Do you trust me now? Can you believe, for a microsecond, that I know what’s going on and I just might know what I’m doing?”

  They hesitated. This was clearly difficult for them. At last, Barnabus said, “Yes, we trust you.”

  “We believe in you, baby,” said his mother.

  “Awesome,” said Phin, and clapped his hands. “Please say that more often. Now, is there any way to stop the hypergate countdown?”

  “Now that Bolus has access to the mainframe, he has control,” said Barnabus.

  “But there’s an autodestruct,” said Eliza, quietly, almost to herself.

  The boys turned to her.

  “What?” said Phin.

  “Honey, no,” said Barnabus.

  “Phin,” said Eliza, “in the event of an emergency, a sequence can be initiated that will destroy all the hypergates. But the only one who can activate it is you.”

  “What?” said Phin again. “Why me?”

  “For this exact scenario,” said Eliza. “If we were ever to be kidnapped, we couldn’t activate the sequence ourselves, even under torture. It has to be you.”

  Phin’s face went slack. “That’s why you guys kept me locked away all these years. That’s why you wouldn’t let me out. Because if I were ever kidnapped, I could destroy the hypergates!”

  There was an awkward pause.

  “No, baby, we kept you at home because we’re overprotective,” said Eliza.

  Barnabus nodded.

  “Oh,” said Phin.

  “But now there’s no other way,” Eliza rushed on. “You have to get to Bolus’s control panel, Phin. The sequence is linked to your exact DNA. Only you can initiate it.”

  “But, Mom,” said Phin. “Destroying all the hypergates, I mean . . . that’s the family business! Wham-pow, no more company!”

  “Phineas, buddy,” said Barnabus, and put his hand on Phin’s shoulder. “You’re thinking of putting the business before the fate of the entire universe. My God, you are a Fogg.”

  “Drab droof the company, sweetheart,” said Eliza.

  Phin set his jaw. He looked at his parents. Then, he
kissed his mother on the cheek and ran for the door. “Okay. You guys follow this hallway to the end and take a right. There’s a maintenance hatch I used to sneak aboard. You can hide there until Teddy can work out a way to get you off the ship.”

  “Who?” said Eliza.

  “Just trust me!” said Phin, and bolted out the door.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” called Barnabus.

  Phin reappeared in the door, a wild look in his eyes. “I’m going to save my girlfriend!”

  He dashed down the hall and only got a few paces before rushing back and adding, “I mean, my friend who’s a girl, not my girlfriend. Okay, see you later!”

  And with that, he was gone.

  46

  BOLUS HAD RETURNED TO the bridge of the Tin Can. He’d spent the last half hour sprucing himself up for the arrival of the Phan. His skin shone, his little beard was freshly waxed, and he’d dressed in a dapper waistcoat that would have been cute if its occupant weren’t so evil.

  “You’re going to get away with this,” Lola spat, meaning to say something else but unable to speak anything but the truth. “You’re going to get everything you ever wanted!”

  “Glad to hear it.” Bolus chuckled, and took his seat in the captain’s chair.

  “I totally don’t think we’re going to win,” Lola added with as much grit and determination as she could muster. “But I hope we will.”

  “Save your voice,” said Bolus. “You’ll need it in a moment.”

  There was a small hissing sound as a hatch at the back of the bridge opened. No one, including the Bog Mutant guards, heard the patter of feet as the intruder hurried along the wall and hid behind a terminal. No one noticed the snapping sound as the intruder opened a panel, nor did they hear the scuttle of the intruder’s fingers across the keypad there.

  “Only two more minutes,” Bolus said, grinning so hard his teeth threatened to crack. “Watch closely, boys.”

  The guards approached the railing to get a better view of the hypergate and Singularity below. This was just what the intruder needed.

  He entered the final keystroke and the bands securing Lola to the Truth Machine popped open.