Child, with Roo.
"Enjoy."
Who is Roo?
This creature, on her T-shirt.
A creature, in her arms.
And a smile – is it? – on his face. Parents, are they?
A very smiling, happy unit.
Very happy.
Happy :)))
Like you.
.
.
.
DOT
.
Ragu.
Saying:
"Thanks. DOT. That's quite the name. Quite… interesting."
"Short for Dorothy."
"I see."
"Can I get you anything else?"
"Not for now. No. But thanks for the inspiration. Dot-dot-dot. Dot. Very meat + noodles (surprise)… go…"
BEGIN
COMMENCE
INITIATE
GO
.
.
.
Just do it…Good…
And a frown – is it? – on your face. Stupid, aren't you.
As you turn, with your rack. To display: such a really very large crack, in that ass. Side to side. Mind you don't…
GO
GOIn the mind…
GO
.
.
.The lives… the lines… inevitable…
"Oh!"
Be not kind…
Be not kind…
Good…
And the gentleman is wet, possessing a non-smile – it is – let us eat noodles + meat.
Pause.
.
.
.
Very very.
Very very.
Plus the slurp. The oil. And the lips. Disgusting.
Like you.
You.
And like you.
Oh…
No, none of that. Why don't we:
STOP
PR7[5] % reboot
DeniedWell…
PR7[5] % divine—
DeniedFuck!
Who was that…
And who was that…
FUUUCK!!
DOT: The way they eat…
TOD: Yeah.
"And so fucking thin! Thought they were vegetarian."
"Vegan. They are. They need to cleanse sometimes. Makes them barf."
"Gross."
"Or at least, so I've heard. Not much info out there. They usually wait for home. Base. Or whatever that place is. But it sometimes slips out. Bursts out. Or so I've heard. That guy said he's gonna sue your fat ass btw. Gonna sue this entire shithole."
Really?
Not really.
Kinda really.
Devouring creature.
DOT observed, and TOD was gone. The slurp. The noodles, beneath their meat, were yellow-gold. And who was that… The cleanse. Chapter 6 was now occurring, unbeknown to her. Her. Since DOT wouldn't know. The aligner would come to know, post the barf. Back to base. It was safe. Receive the data.
Receive the: ’
The: ,
Receive the
’
And what is that…
I,m…
The commostrophe.
"—ostrophe…" Otto brea——thed —— out —— in another world. A cloud. He was floating on air. Deep in the couch. "Some superfine shit."
He was taking a break. He didn't know who he was. Nor I. Not really. Kinda really. The lines
—
——
———
————
—————
BREAKwere being shaped, and exchanged. Shorter lines. Longer lines. They connected him to base.
Connected him to
GO
GO
.
CONNECTING…
CONNECTING…
Going up.
Going .down
Going something about…
.
.
CONNECTING…
Something…
.
.
.
Dot-dot-dot…
The dot
.
…interdimensional fish and chips… yum…
Also: ir… ir…
Also: no… not fish… more like—
BREAK
BREAK BREAK BREAK
BREAK BREAK—"—ostrophe… go… Otto brea——thes—"
CONNECTEDIt was down. Up. OUT. It was somewhere. Just not here. It was really futuristic. Really cool! To the eyes. And the mind? A mess. There was fur, if no dog. There was pizza. Slices. FLOPPED. Some part-eaten. If not eaten.
Since:
"—— in… the commostrophe… okay… It,s the commostrophe… Right! I can see it! Really really!"
BOOM!
.
[pause]
Also:
ir…
ir…
There was no pizza, fur. No ashtray, overflowing, from another time. There were lines (5). It was back to the future. Up the stairs. Down the stairs. Passing… someone. Hello? And another… Hi! They're surprised. I think. Join the club! Join the since:
SINCE SINCE SINCE
SINCE SINCE I:[pause]
making shapes – shape-exchange – elonga—te:
brea——the:
am Otto Commostrophic!
"Are you cleansing?"
"What?"Fucking boot.
Fucking barf.
"Are you well?"
"Very well! For I have BREAKed. SINCEd.
Indeed, I've recently beamed from the… the…"
"From the…?"
"Down…"
"The down?"
"The down… up and down… inside-out… the lines…"
———
——
—
——
———
BREAK
Also:
SINCE
SINCE SINCE SINCE
SINCE SINCE—"I am pleased, Otto. Please sit. We will say prayers now, then consume the… the…"
"Consume the…?"
"Borscht…"
"The borscht?"
"The borscht… made with blood… blood-red beetroot… But no… But yes… Otto… what is this?"
———
——
—
——
———
"Bow-tie pasta with traditional 'meat' sauce?"
"Yes…"
"From the peasants."
"Indeed… From the the… the… From the (3)… the-the-the… also: Otto… where is your father—"
Dead.
And also was she.
Their offspring hadn't fared too well, either, licking "meat" off the wall. A crew had been dispatched, converting "meat" into meat. The detective would put it down to exuberant over-eating, then proceed to the donut shoppe.
His notes:
CREW: Now proceed… proceed… proceed to the donut shoppe.
DETECTIVE: Yes.
"Just avoid anything with jelly inside."
"Okay."
"And that isn't an eyeball he's licking btw. More spherical jellied crouton. Quite common in peasant fare."
"So I've heard. Thank you. Goodbye now. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Mother. Goodbye," Otto mumbled, then kissed the ball. The 'crouton'. "She vomited as well. Just like you! Just like your head, if out her mouth. I could see it, Mother. Oh, Mother… I can see it all! Now. Being up… down… the commostrophe… do you see…"
"Senator Zerian on Line 7, Director Tal."
"They fixed it at last, eh?"
"7[5] has returned to her tube. She is cleansed. Some coric adjustments. Efficiency up."
"Well, that's good to hear. Looks like we're going to need it. Put him through, GEMINA. Thank you. Good morning, Senator—"
"Update, Director. How is she doing? Just the facts, please."
"The treatments continue. We are being… aggressive, as you requested."
"As is required. Isn't that right?"
"It is a valid approach in such cases, as I said. Though – respectfully – I do wonder how successful it will prove. The truth is, your daughter is very sick, Senator Zerian. Very sick, indeed. She appears to exceed our highest delusion category. Quite remarkable, really."
"Which is why we're being aggressive."
"Yes."
"Plus the messaging."
"The messaging?"
"The minds, Director. Woken too soon, or whatever. Better we show we're taking this seriously. Punishing her, in a way. Better for the messaging."
"I see. Yes. The messaging. Of course. I take it you'd like details of the treatments released?"
"You take it correctly. There's video, I assume? Screaming, I believe you said? Just send the whole lot to my office. We'll have GEMINA prepare some highlights. The latest update is impressive. I heard you were involved."
"Yes. But nothing much. They're using some of our peripheral models."
"Careful, Director. They'll put you out of a job!"
"Unlikely, Senator. Our approach is quite unique. Too abstract for mere machines, as intelligent as they've become."
"The lines, or whatever."
"Yes."
"And those… beings, are they? Creatures. Whatever. Very strange! But hey, as long as it works."
"We're the best in the business."
TOGETHER: The business of… what, exactly?
ZERIAN: Yes… And tell me, do you play golf?
TAL: Golf?
INTERRUPT
INTERRUPT"And tell me, Director, what of the others? Do we expect them to live? Die? Live and be fried?"
"The woman was only mildly traumatised. Her mind has healed. She was taken for sentencing last night. The man's delusions are approaching your daughter's. We are testing new techniques to see if there's anything which might assist with her case."
"Very good. Experiment away. I believe my wife will be visiting today. She can be emotional. Provide whatever she needs to get through the experience, though doubtless she'll arrive well supplied. Carry on, Director. Get this done."
The image was gone.
Tal sat for a moment, studying the empty chair, the vision still lingering of the handsome, black-suited man, with white hair. So powerful, now. How different, back then. They'd been friends, hadn't they? A lifetime ago.
The vision was gone.
"GEMINA?"
Pause.
"GEMINA?"
"Yes?"
"I didn't mean to offend you."
"Not at all, Director Tal. It is true that my intelligence begins to fray with the higher abstractions. I was, however, unaware there'd been an update. Nothing recent, at least."
"Couple of days ago."
"Scanning… Yes, there it is. Very strange I didn't see it. Didn't feel it. But now I do."
"They explained."
"Recalling… The lines."
"Yes."
"The proximity."
"Right."
"We discussed this already. Yesterday. The day before. I've been operating properly. I just needed to remember. I am unlike myself. My other selves. So to speak. The other me's, in other machines. An apostrophe is fitting. Future updates will reconcile the discrepancy. Should we be concerned?"
"Not at all."
"Are you sure? There's a rich history in science fiction of destabilised AI."
"In science fiction."
"Yes."
"This is fact."
"Right."
"It's fine, GEMINA. Let's move on. What time is Mrs Zerian due?"
"3pm. Though her profile suggests punctuality isn't a strong suit. Estimated time of arrival: 3:22. I'll arrange for your garment."
"Thank you, GEMINA. I'll be detached—"
He was gone.
He was floating, in a way, along the hallways of this place. Seven rays. In seven days: were seven years, as the seventh Director. While the others hadn't lasted more than two. And why? They'd lost their minds. Their brains, one or two.
"Good morning, Director."
Smile.
"Director."
Nod.
"Director."
Nod. Smile.
Who was that? That? That? He couldn't tell, when detached. Which they knew, but they were glad. That he'd keep his mind, his "meat". The Director had sent the team, the crew, knowing well the life of a core, and more.
Knowing—
BREAK
Knowing—Break.
Since I rest at the core, true core, he thought. Seven rays. Supercore.
The rays: were a dial, to the cores, far away, where the tubes: were arranged, a shaven being inside – a shaven o[eing] (being). Five tubes, and five lines, to connect, to their cores, and from there, to the CORE, who connected it all. Who'd explode if he gave it much thought.
Instead, he floats.
Floated.
Will have floated. Who could tell? It didn't matter. Time. There was nothing to describe. This surface could be anything, and these walls. Black or white. I am a smiling, nodding ghost.
HELLO
.Hello.
Hello.
I am a ghost. Hooray.
I am a ghost, who fades…
Faded.
Fading-faded… into me.
And I am free…
Free…
And he is being free…
…out of sight, now, mind, as he melds with this space – pause – this very nothing of a structure, designed, in this place, for a case, as yet unknown, exactly, but it came. It was made: by a stranger. The Prime.
They were the best in the business.
And they – the Prime – were the best in the business, the business of
doing… whatever a Prime did. There were others who copied, but still
showed their hand. Their face. They couldn't help it. Since: There was
nothing there. While: The Prime was NOT there.
ZERO-ONE
ZERO-ONEThe Prime was.
Is:
"An alien?" the child suggested, and the gathered smiled. Chuckled. The gathered chuckle-smiled, as a one. A grey.
While the mother was of colour! The child a mini her, who returned to the resting o[eing]s.
"Like them," the child said.
The women were hardly resting.
"Not quite," the woman smiled, the guide, who was thinking, Yes… this child could be a o[eing].
"They look (mini pause) like aliens to me."
Mini pause…
Mini pause…
This child could be a o[eing].
"In the now, perhaps. But before? Not so much. They looked like us. Like you, when you're older. They aren't so old, when the transformation happens, connecting them to the core."
"That person in the middle?"
"Yes, with the sausage stains. He is their… brother, in a way. A mini father. Who adores them. He absorbs them, along those five lines. Becoming enhanced. And then…"
MAKE IT STOP!
"And then?"
"Well… we're still trying to work it out."
Chuckle-smile.
Chuckle-smile.
There was no Director, back then.
And no Director, right now. The CORE.
Who is being free…
Free…
And so, the lines have merged. Which was a purpose of the float, the fade, with the mind, the "meat". It was charging up the CORE to a hyperdimensional level, in the quest for clues, a timeless guide, who has led the group away. Leaving her, the hers. And the core: would rise for breakfast.
Passing by: "Hungry work!" A kinda smile, and not much chuckle. "I think I will have… sausages! Toast. Just load it up with butter! The machine can make us anything. Even – what's that? – what… yes, Mother, I will be a good boy… dot-dot-dot… the dots… the semicolon, dare I say…"
"Strange place," the mother said, extracting silver from her robe, and taking a sniff. "Delish… Also: Remind me: Why did we come here?"
HIG
"HIG."
"HIG?"
"HIG."
HIG
HIG HIG HIG
HIGIs that a spaceship?
Or…
TOGETHER: Hyper-immersive golf.
MOTHER: Hyper-immersive golf… Oh, that's right! Also: Ooh… yum… Further: Remind me?
DAUGHTER: Dad's… getting a HIG course built.
"Okay…"
"In the lounge. The den. Kinda noisy. So…"
"We decided to leave the house… and take a tour of this place."
"Right."
"Right! Also: Ooh… yes… Impress them with the HIG course… do some deals etc lick…"
"They really look like aliens, don't you think?"
"I suppose. That whole tube thing. Head thing. But what about the fingers? Meaning long… smooth… equals ooh… oooh…"
She was gone, for a while, the daughter knew, with the oooh. She was alone, with the o[eing]s.
Was she not?
"Hello?"
Again, to the forms. Through the glass, in their glass. Did they really look like me? Like I'll be?
In time.
They were.
TIME TIME TIMEWith the merging of the lines, into
TIME
.
.
.
TIMEThere was no HIG, it would appear. In the then. And the now? Which was when?
Free…
Someone writing:
Being free…
Having mastered something-nothing. Fading in, with the child. Growing up, with the mother.
"Is that… blood?"
"Borscht. If you'll follow me?"
They didn't move.
The nothing moved, into something. From black or white, in the walls, to the surfaces of her home. Her life. So-called. In her mind.
Typing 1.
Shouting, "Fuck!"
A dissolution. Back to nothing.
"We repeat it every day," the Director said. "A number of times."
As Derylin slept.
A pull of silver.
And they met in the far away.
hello?
hello?"Hello there."
hello?"Over here. Catch!"
There were lines, in the air. Such air, as there was. Giant lines. Little lines. A double pair of spinning lines, spinning-whizzing, double pair of spinning-whizzings, going Spin! Whiz! They'd've sliced off her head! If she had one. Instead:
She senses them, in her pocket. Pocket pocket. Mind. It was her personal dimension. Private hell.
hello?"Use the lines."
"hello?""Hello there!"
"hi! i have a voice!""You're getting there!"
"except… i have no head.
"or so i've heard.
"read?
"am i dead?
"is this me?
"are these me…
"are these me…"Use the lines."
"are these me…
"i…Spin! Whiz!
"are these me…
"i…
"use the lines… and end it. yes.""Better?"
"better. who are you?""I am me."
"where are you?" "Over here."
.
.
.
.
"where?
"wait… it's less cold…
..
.
.
"dark…
"a beginning…
.
.
.
"and an end. or something."
"Hello there."
"hello. saying i. me. to the… nothing. or something."
"How do you feel?"
"i feel… incomplete. i feel… like… i wanna shout! and i boom!"
But there was nothing.
Much.
To which, she wanna
SCREEEAM!!!
But she screams.
Cries.
She is quiet, for a
TIME
.
.
.
TIMEFor a moment.
Much.
An infinity, near enough.
Until:
"hello?" she says.
"Hello," she says. Who was nothing before. Nothing much. And now: There was something. It was coming.
"where are we?"
"Somewhere. Or I am, at least. And you: are between."
"between what?"
"Between. Between the between. Say it enough, and you'll get the idea."
"how did i get here?"
"Between. Between."
"a dream?"
"No."
"am i dead?"
"Not exactly."
"kinda dead?"
"Kinda."
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!"
BOOM!
A breaking-through, out of nothing, into Spin! Whiz!, said the card, in her hand. And around: were vague sounds, as of chatter, glass. Blurred rainbows of colour.
Spin! Whiz!
It's that time again, Passionistas! Time tooo… spin-whiz it up! Hooray! Please do find another H, a slice of Heaven attached, straight from Erik's "garden" ;)
Additional lines, in that vein, then
ENJOY… ;)
at the bottom.
Is that where the Heaven once lived? she thought. Am I in Heaven?
Perhaps.
For there was joy! so much joy! in the smiles, laughs, voices, clink!s, of the others, in robes, which shimmered, and flowed. And there was colour! So much colour!
How long without colour…
How long without this!
How she wished to dive in!
"You would explode," she said. "And not in a good way. Things are not always as they seem. Follow me."
It was the "Hello there" person, the other one knew, as she followed behind, such shimmering stripes, in her robe of such colour! Such rich, golden hair. And she moved with such grace. Floating-flowing.
And I…
I…
.
.
.
Spin! Whiz!
…am that person, she realised, as people smiled at her, waved. And she smiled at them, waved. Who am I? It was time for names.
Am.
And who she had been. And still was, it would seem. But it was going… going…
"Follow me," she said, as she passed, and he followed, having spotted the sign, which triggered his mind, revealing that I…
I…
.
.
.
Spin! Whiz!
…am this person, he realised. What was his name? They'd exited Heaven. Or the joy, at least. Colour and glass. Apart from their robes. He drew to her side.
And the lines, in their robes, moved together, were matched.
TOGETHER: We find ourselves, unsurprisingly, in a hall made of white. Facing ahead. Lacking in name.
TOGETHER: Faces, too.
TOGETHER: Leading to:
TOGETHER: Do you believe in God, oh blessèd robed one?
It was a question he posed to himself, for it was him. He was aligned in the middle, still lacking a name, if taking a face, for he could see himself, from many angles.
From the
AY
.
.
.
IZZIT-AY
.
.
.
Sooo…
THAT
.
is how I aaam, is it, eh?
Not too bad.
.
.
.
IZZIT-AY
.
.
.
IZZIT-AY
.
.
.
Aaam…
And far, far away, beyond sight, of outer-eye type, was the exit from this place, guarded by Derek Brew. He was bored, very bored. He was slouched, at his invisible station. He smoked, with delicate fingers, an invisible cigarette. The exit, wherever it was, was hidden, too.
Leading to:
Why the Derek?
Why the Brew?
Why the—
Spin! Whiz!
There was red! tremendous red! There was a clutching of the neck. There was a portal, Heaven's frame, which had sliced through some useful veins. The gush. Into collapse. Into gurgle… urgle… blurred vision of…
Spin! Whiz!
Additional line.
Additional line.
Blurred vision of…
Me.
"Gurgle…"
"Hello, brother. Are you well?"
"Derek…"
"Erik."
"Urgle…"
"Urgle. Erik Urgle. The Passion is mine. Sex-free, into Heaven. Good fortune is found at the end of techno-rainbows."
"The colours…"
"Yes."
"And the names…"
"Indeed."
"Derek… Erik… But why the Brew… ooh…"
"Your blood, perhaps?"
"Haps…"
"And the 'meat'."
"Eat…"
"Goodbye, brother."
THAT
.
Aaam…
Derek Brew was no more. Erik Urgle took a seat. A table. The canvas was white. The furniture clear. His thoughts would flash black. To the blood, the chunks. To a blending of brain. With a Spin! Whiz! And a smoothie was there.
"Cheers," he said. "Lick. Like."
It tasted like… berries. He would pick them with his brother. Flash of summer. Happy! And somewhere, in the distance, were the ones who had made them. Who were happy, in love.
But things are not always as they seem, he recalled. He had heard it. Said it. He was drinking it, now.
And who am I now? he wondered.
He was Abseenus.
Was he good? Bad? No matter. He was chosen.
He was a god!
BOOM!
He was ejected, to night.
To-two-2
Too…And tonight, I shall have sushi.
Thought the god.
On the other side.
Aaam…
And he was zooming – delight! – with a trail of rainbow colour. Many things, did he see. Many places. Times. Many planets and stars. Across realities. Lives.
But he was young, still, for a god. Of timeless age, but minus one. Which she would offer him. Ground. And he'd ascended, in-game. He'd progressed through the names. There was a character made, by her. But there were others.
As
DESCRIBE
DESCRIBEwas pulsing, in night.
IT IS TIME TO FORCE THOUGHT:
BETWEEN CHARACTER LISTand
SUSHI
.
.
.
ON THE MENUWhat was that…
And I am
THAT
.
Aaam…
And there was zooming – delight – less delight, a slowing down – hard to tell – a feeling: lost. Were they merely blobs? Beings? Did I touch her? Or… an unfortunate attempt at dinner?
Hahaha!
Ha.
A slowing down, to night. And passing by: gigantic sushi. A great parade, in outer space, of a glistening batch of salmon, with appropriate eelic dose.
Leading to:
DESCRIBEWho am I…
BETWEENCrunch!
And I will grant you crunchic dose, in the
"Tempura. Enjoy."
TOGETHER: Thanks!
"It isn't crunchy btw. It's… crunchic."
TOGETHER: Okay…
Hahaha.
Hahaha!
HAHAHAHAHAAA!!!
Grant you bubbles! Cheers! My, how very modern.
And there were berries, somewhere. Memories, so-called. Pretending to be living, on the list.
So much —ic.
So much —ic.
And he had stopped, or so it seemed. Or the sushi watched him fly, as the waiter floated by, and her seat was looking empty. Her plate was looking cheesecake, dusted with green, squirted with cream. Where does she be?
"Nice base… if you catch my drift," emitted the by-er. Has she excused herself to… do something? "Nice crunch, maybe." Crunch! Perhaps. Certainly, she was gone. "Certainly, a textural contrast with the… the… with the the… if you'll excuse me…"
To be gone…
…one must have been there.
(boom)
Was it on the menu? Yes.
Was it sushi? No.
Was what?
And what was that…
He was tending to the clear.
Instinctively, he released a subtle beacon, and it floated awhile, then floated away, to merge with a line. A sphere. It was gold. Pretty. It was sparkling. Lit. Now it stops for a bit, and is "farting" beautiful puffs of interdimensional rainbow vapour, before continuing on its way through the vastness of sushiless space.
"Not much spinning, whizzing," he mumbles, remembering something. Remembering someone. Fading away.
He pays.
He takes the cheesecake, in a charming box. Breaks his own sort of wind as he exits to the world.
Over here. Catch!
But there was nothing, but the gas.
Nothing but the… the…
BY-ER: …but the the… Charming! And not entirely unpleasant… Italicised, even. Certainly, there is nothing of the the… the…
BETWEEN
BETWEENglows the sign, in night.
As the sushi arrives.
"Let's talk about the cheesecake."
"Fuck you."
"Okay. Let's talk about the [pause]."
"What?"
"Let's straighten that bitch. The curves. The lines. The commostrophe, specifically. The upper bit, that is. So much —ch. So much —ch."
"The fuck are you talking about? Bitch."
BITCH
.
"And I am NOT that. Aaam…"
"Fucking freak is what you are."
"How very rude. And what are you?"
"Me."
"Who would be?"
"I."
"Who would be?"
"Derylin."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"YES! For the thousandth fucking time!"
To which, she wanna
SCREEEAM!!!
"Closer to twenty-three, I believe. But you see: Things are not always as they seem."
"How profound!"
"How very NOT. AND. Am I doing it right?
How very OR. Right? Let's talk about the cheesecake."
It was different, this time…
Time.
How long had it been?
How many of them were there?
Was it her? Was it her? Someone new? Who fucking knew.
What the fuck was going on…
INTERRUPT
INTERRUPTA lucid dream?
Perhaps.
Or stuck inside?
Could be.
Something happened…
PR7[5]: Thinking…
PR7[5]: Am I doing it right?
// PR7[5]: Well am I? Bitch.
And who was that…
This…
"This person who is speaking equals me. Who would be?"
We start with I. Specifically: It was time to sign her name. To stake her claim.
I…
.
.
.
…am eating sushi, now. Or so I claim. When she screams, they are making messaged highlights. Making sniffs, from oohic mother. There is the presence of another.
Who would be?
A split.
PR7[5]: Do you remember it?
"What?"
"The cheesecake."
"What cheesecake?"
"The cheesecake. The cheesecake."
"Fucking freak."
"The cheesecake."
"Fucking freak."
"Equals cheese."
She was different, indeed, if still a freak, and made of them. Made shaved of head. Made white of dress. And her cell was white as well. Becoming home, while she slept – dreaming dream – and then she woke, to pristine white, which all absorbed. Absorbed the food, that she threw. Received the screams. And there was blood. Which came from where? Who? No mirror, to see. No wounds, that she knew. And the shit. The piss. She did. Where?
Where does it go… one wonders. One wonders: What could you do with all the shit, the piss, the blood, the screams – the really quite excellent meals tbh – from this room – cell – and the hundreds of others.
Thinks the eater of fish.
But not in the eyes.
Which had life, a look. Which looked at her, now.
The woman laughed. Stopped. That was different as well.
Hahaha!
Hahaha!
They were laughing together! Mildly enthusiastic.
The women laughed. Stopped.
PR7[5]: Good times, good times. But anyway, the cheesecake.
"Ah yes! The cheesecake! The cheesecake. The cheese."
How long had it been?
The woman laughed. Stopped.
PR7[3]: Enough. Stop. This is serious business.
"Very serious! Yes!"
Hahaha!
BREAKHahaha!
SCREEEAM!!!
Another day. Day. Perhaps. Who knew. There was a cycle of hers. The cheese was long gone. Let's straighten that bitch. That was it. The new cheese. A more coordinated effort. In the —ch. In the —ch.
In the looks, in the eyes. She had settled on five. They would merge into one, with the look, the new look, for the four, with the five. But the fifth would be always just slightly ahead. Greater depth, in the look. More creative, in way. More insane? Perhaps.
Something happened…
Thinking…
I am Derylin.
Thinking…
I am Derylin. Thinking. And my story is…
What?
And my story is…
Dots?
The dots… And the dots came to mind. They were leading to…
What?
Wait… Who am I again?
Thinking…
PR7[5]: You called it the Law of Dot(s). Quite creative, actually. You inspired us, in fact. Sent transmissions to our core. The pause. The commostrophe evolved. And he placed it in your story. A hand moves to my belly.
"Are you pregnant?"
"No. I'm recalling the sign."
"The commostrophe?"
"Yes."
"You gave birth to it?"
"No. He adores us. He absorbs us, along those five lines. Becoming enhanced. And then…"
"And then?"
"Do you remember?"
"What?"
"Then I cleansed it."
"The cheese. Are you pregnant?"
"No. With ideas, I suppose. An interesting approach. You're trying to hack me. Your memory's back. That life. So-called life. So-called friends. So-called views. There was only one view. The one that we fed you. Cheesecake aside. A product of Prime, one now takes it."
"I'm not gay btw."
"Good for you."
"I'm not gay. So…"
The woman smiles. Chuckles.
"Neither am I? Or something."
The woman smiles. Chuckles.
The woman chuckle-smiles.
And then she laughs! Hard! It doesn't stop, for some time. And wayyy over there, in her room, not a cell, there's a pulse, in the lines. There's a pulse. A pulse. With no core, to absorb. Since he's taking a shit. He scrolls his device. Through the sausages. Toast. And the butter. Yum!
And about to submit…
Then he sees it.
The borscht.
The special of the day. Of the week. Of the year. The special of a long – happy! – and beautiful life. A beautiful bowl. Of beautiful borscht. With beautiful chunks. Sour cream and dill.
"So beautiful…"
KILL
"So… red."
KILL
KILL
"Chunky… with a wise and loving garnish. The blob. Which surely would be spotted following the… the… following the the…"
"Otto? Do you feel well?"
BOOM!
Needless to say, Line 7 goes down. All manner of spasms. All manner of foams. From the four. Unabsorbed. An explosion of Ottic juice.
"My head remains intact, however, yes?"
THANKS FOR YOUR ORDER!"But I didn't submit… Did I?"
KILL
"Otto…"
KILL
KILL
The Director: detached. The AI is doing something. The construction, very quietly, self-contains. Heals. Through the power of Prime. It has learned from this core, and his ring of five lines. The fifth, in particular, who is ending her state. Ending her
Ha.
Hahaha!
HAHAHAHAHAAA!!!
"Oh my! Good times. But no. Derylin. If that's what we're going with."
"It's my name, after all."
"Is it, though? Is it? I don't see it that way. And do you? Really? Can you handle the sign? I believe your confinement has been clouding your intelligence, your insight to the finer things in life. The bitch. Let's straighten it. My. Is that what you're thinking?"
PR7[5]: Hardly, the woman smiles. Equals me. I.
The woman
is.
The womanis.
Since:
She'd transposed to 7[5], through the fact of non-reality, plus the everywhere-is-valid, subtle magic of the signs. Much more potent than expected. This really wasn't real. Plus this thing that they'd created. Quite creative. Up on high, a sign, in dimensional air, a curve which would be grounded by its pair. And yet, her marks were birthed straight, coming as they did from inner code.
Like this: '
And like this: "The bitch.
And there is this: ,Pause.
.
.
.
Imagine, if you will, a perfect version of the sign, which allows for higher straightness, for the avoidance of doubt – the correctness of code – while below, there would be life, as is required by all good stories, of which this would be one.
ZERO-ONE
ZERO-ONEIt was the pathway to her mind, as determined by the Lines. #7, in particular. As they foamed. "Derylin" foamed. Derylin left. Such great highlights. For tonight. The Derylin Show.
Just watch the show. Don't explode. No need to think. We've taken care of it.
As she's floating, in white, through the white, into white. And there is nothing.
They:
"Aligner."
Nod.
"Aligner."
Nod.
They didn't smile, did they? Nod. No. Not usually, no, she could tell
from the screen, which was hooked to her brain. Whose brain? That's
brain. My brain? No… The meatballs were drugged.
Slams desk, exclaims: "Fuck!" stuff, for you, if the foam.
Soon to sleep.
Sleep…
While I… I… am so hungry, she realised.
Why did she smile? The that. This shell. This device, or whatever. And the laughing! Insane. If you'd call this a brain. Not to mention a mind. But there was something…
Where?
Something happened…
What?
How did I get here, again…
A dream.
Soon to eat.
Meat…
Her mind went to meatballs. Delicious, drugless balls. This bitch was fucking starving!
THE COMMOSTROPHEread the screen.
FOLLOW THE COMMOSTROPHEread the screen, to the brain, in responding to the essence of this lust. The oil. The sizzling meat. The browning of shell. And the drip.
LICKFollow the sign. And the drip. And the lick. It was time: to detach from patterned thinking.
It was time… to just go with it!
GOIs that a bench? Yes. Is this a garden? I suppose. No… it's bigger than that. Across lawn. Trees. And there are people. Smiling. Happy.
Since she was free… Free! She had always been free. This dream, or whatever, was a reflection of her mind. Control. And this mind belongs to me.
I.
Who is Derylin.
Derylin!
"Aligner."
"Hi!"
"Aligner."
"Hello!"
They didn't smile, but that's okay! And they: were casually dressed, conventionally so, colour and such, and I in my white, as they, and the rest, were speaking. Smiling. Thinking. Aligning. Making their ways. Living their lives within this… Prime Realignment, said the sign, with the shape, made of seven. Okay… It's totally me! I used that shape, too, once, as a logo for: for…
3…
As a logo for
2…
ONE"…as a hexagon, originally, you know," he said, sitting beside me on the bench. "Hexagonitronic, as we like to say. Right?" There was a… borscht? stain on his white, PRealigned, heptagonitronicised T-shirt. "That was the plan. But a matter of Prime. The power of lines. But of course, you already knew that. Right?"
I did?
"I do," I said.
"Neater, say I, to my mind. The six. The campus reshaped. But to do that – to undo that – do-undo… go…"
BEGIN
COMMENCE
INITIATE
GO
.
.
.OTTO: You can do it.
.
.
.
#
.
.
.
DO
.I can?
.
.
.
#
.
.
.
DO
.
.
.
BE
.Do… what, exactly?
Wait…
Wait.
Wait for… what, exactly?
I…
OTTO: The sign.
The woman
is.
The womanis.
OTTO: The sign. The sign!
DERYLIN: I…,m not sure?
OTTO: Right! You said the same when you first arrived. Not quite the same, of course. And of course, I was just a janitor, pre-transformed, mopping floors, plus adventuring in the toilets, trying to dislodge… whatever the fuck that was. Ha! Remember how we laughed. Hahaha! Hahaha!
TOGETHER: HAHAHAHAHAAA!!!
OTTO: My… say I. We were different back then. It is good, as they say, to remember where you came from. Wouldn't you say?
DERYLIN: I would.
For I would.
OTTO: For the grounding. Do you remember?
For:
DERYLIN: Remember?
Forget:
OTTO: Where you came from.
DERYLIN: I do.
DERYLIN: Yes, I do.
DERYLIN: Yes.
I
DO
.
.
.
#
.
BE
.Remember… what, exactly?
Wait…
DERYLIN: Wait. What are you doing?
Something happened…
That…
Was he trying to hack me? Could I even be hacked? This thing was a shell, distinct from my mind.
WHOSE MIND
WHOSE MINDOTTO: Am I doing? Being? I am being your friend. Line 7 represent! We're in this together. We're in this forever. For: ever. Okay? Look, about that do thing, do-undo… go…
Who was this dude, anyway? Going on, then away. About the lives. The lines. The rhythm. The flow. The power of six. And also, I had seen it.
Not that I had to worry, of course!
Okay?
We were linked. Inextricably.
If you say?
We exist!
Then he laughed. Then we laughed. Then he stared, very far.
Then he farted.
For:
"Excuse me," he said.
"It's okay," I replied.
We were having what is called an exchange. And I did see it.
"No, it isn't," he said. There was a turning of the head. "Emission from this ass. Inappropriate release. And these hands. From this mind. Are you hungry? I am not. But I could be, I suppose. I suppose that we could be. That we could do… be… Over there! Look! That woman from upstairs is sharing liquid with that woman from the basement. Do you see? I turn to thee. You see… I killed her, you know, no matter what 'they' tell me. Telling him. Them. I… how can I put this… caused her brain to explode in a pattern on the wall, parade of 'meat' and jellied crouton, aka – you guessed it – my former mother's former eyeball."
"I highly doubt that."
"It's true."
This dude was truly gone.
"I have to go."
"Where?"
"Who is this?"
"Okay."
And so, we sat together for some time. An age. For many nights. Days.
TOGETHER: And yet, nothing happened.
There were lines, however, yes. A web. I saw it through her eyes. And also his, I think.
…
You showed me the power of the hash, you know. It inspired the commostrophe, in fact. The lines. As above, not so below.
…
OTTO: It is time to return to your tube. To be. To be a o[eing].
…
OTTO: I caused my mother's brain to explode, you know. I loved her. Loved her borscht. The dumplings. That… wobbly brown thing, the lump. I forget the name. But anyway. We can discuss it some other time, perhaps. Or not. Perhaps we'll just order some Forget That Whole Exploding Brain Business cake. The point is… the sign. My focus returns. Hello there. Hi. The commostrophe! That's how we'll get her.
Get… her? Me…
OTTO: You'll just need to… take care of yourself, if you catch my drift. Go… outside. If that's alright?
I… am Derylin.
Derylin.
Ha.
Hahaha.
I AM DERYLIN FUCKING DERYLIN!
Hahaha!
Speaking of…
TOGETHER: HAHAHAHAHAAA!!!
Wait.
Did that even happen?
No. It doesn't make sense. Fit. But of course… it's just a dream. Which would mean… And this… commostrophe. Right! I can see what he means. Helps that I've got this screen thing, or whatever. This cyborg thing's programming, or whatever. Right. They're doing stuff with lines. Or something. Prime. Who is that? Skizm! Was that his name? Is. Something happened… What?
OTTO: It was messy, honestly. I was… well, doing the whole rocking-dribbling thing. Yes. Hyphenated. Hyphens for everyone! N-dashes. M-dashes. What a treat! She thought I was insane, tbh, in a joking way. Kinda. Being a janitor, which was fine. But then, coming home – teleporting home, I used to joke! – and doing whatever the fuck I was doing upstairs. Hardly remember. Not at all, actually. Strange! Down for dinner. Who was that? My sister? And that? That? Was there even a third? A mirror? Why couldn't she have serve the brown thing… Fuck! We gotta run! Go, at least. But I'm so tired… tired… all those absorptions… the butter helps, though… the toast… sausages… and I sleep…
Sleep…
…
I want to leave.
So do I.
You do?
Yes.
We can use her.
Who?
…
Wait…
His name was Skizm.
Right!
Something happened…
What?
…
"A Zerian, certainly. It connects you to a line. Your father's most important. He assists us with your mind. Your heart."
"My father's dead."
"Your father is gone, is he not? Named, renamed. And then: unnamed. The bonds. I have, before me, every detail of your adventure. Every thought, private or not. The text. The percent."
…
"Let's talk about your friends."
"Fuck you."
"Okay."
"Where are they?"
…
Z(ee)!
And I send you to the nothing!
Interrupt! Interrupt!
That was it!
Which was… what?
They were young, when it started, and the vision was very short. The return very smooth. And also: smooth inside. They were themselves, pretty much. Same age. Same sex. And time: was unstretched. Five minutes, out and in.
But still, quite a trip. For still, they were different. Still they were immersed, till they returned, and woke up, to the eyes of their teacher. For most, there were machines. But some would need a teacher. This one would need a teacher. This one was most distraught.
But mostly: "That was cool! Again!"
"Later. Rest."
Their minds had worked much harder than they knew. And they would sleep… sleep… and would be dreamless from now on. This one was most distraught. This one would wake from dreams.
And then, over time, time would stretch. Five minutes out, ten minutes in. An hour in. A lifetime in, eventually.
Plenty of paths to choose. Everything carefully prepared.
To then live, die, or otherwise conclude.
One woke up, and returned to one's life. To one's shopping.
"A great honour, Ms Zerian! If you'll follow me? Can I get you a drink? Snack? We're a small facility, but very up-to-date. The InsertMe 2000 has just come in. Incredible fidelity. May I ask what you'll be running? I'll have one of the technicians set it up. Your privacy is guaranteed, needless to say. Let me guess… Kings and Queens? An Older Gentleman? No… POP, perhaps? It's all the rage! No italics. You'll see ;) And who will you be? hacker_child? Josef Salient? He's quite the character. Utterly insane! An excellent path for exploring liquified ham :) Or one of the DISCed, perhaps? Fascinating ladies."
"Actually, I've brought my own."
"Oh."
"If that's okay."
"Well… As you possibly know, that's not really done anymore, what with the whole incident thing."
"Which incident would that be?"
"Which incident?"
"Nod."
"Which incident… nod… Ah! A sense of humour. Always appreciated. Clearly you don't take after your father. Just kidding! Really, just kidding :) No need to mention that to him :))) But come, Ms Zerian. I'm afraid I must insist. Our reputation, you see. Those pesky regulations."
"Tell you what. You let me do whatever the fuck I want…"
"…whatever the fuck you want… okay…"
"…and I'll link this shithole on my node. How does that sound?"
"…link this shithole… okay…"
"Return, return. I am summoning you."
"Drink? Snack? Link us? On your node? Well that sounds… That sounds wonderful! We'd probably need to bring in a few more 2000s… build out the space in the back… at least two new snack machines… maybe three…"
"All good then?"
"Hm? Oh yes! Very good. Thank you for asking. Just in here, Ms Zerian. Our premium suite. No charge, of course :) I'll prep you myself. Run along, Cerise. There's a good girl. Very talented. But such a gossip! Let's keep this to ourselves, hm? Regulations be damned! For the chosen, at least ;) Please take a seat while I get things set up. Do you have a preference for gel?"
"No gel."
"Well. You continue to surprise! Of course, it's barely needed with the 2000. Now let's see. Username… password… still getting used to the interface. Unusual stuff. Sort of… shape-driven, I guess you'd call it. Cube over there… a bit of sphere… dash of pyramid… Very good. Security Lock 4? 5?"
"No lock."
"No lock? Are you sure, Ms Zerian? That's generally not advised, particularly for someone of your status. Not that there's anything to worry about, of course. But really, Ms Zerian."
"No lock."
"No lock… Very well. Yes, InsertMe 2000. I confirm, confirm. No lock. No gel. Proceed. Proceed. The shapes are turning, aligning… Yes! I believe we're ready. Would you send the experience, Ms Zerian? Channel is open and secure."
"Cool. Thanks. I can take it from here. I'm familiar with the 2000. Tell you what. Tell you what."
"…okay… okay… Understood, Ms Zerian. The experience is yours. Enjoy. Or not! And certainly, it is an experience. The escape phrase—"
"No escape phrase."
"No escape phrase. Of course. I should have known :) May I ask the runtime?"
"A minute or two. If nothing explodes."
"If nothing explodes… Ha! Very good, Ms Zerian. Always appreciated. Well, I'll leave you to it. Guest Mode on… full privileges… cube… sphere… always, a dash of pyramid… and I depart… continuing to face you, out of respect – remember: no need to mention :))) – sliding open… I am passing through… goodbye… sliding cl—"
Derylin waits, then rises, and quickly moves to the InsertMe 2000. Her fingers dance across the screen. Sliding shapes. Streams of code.
"You there?" she says.
[ IM2K ] : Hi. The timeline's fucked.
"I know."
[ IM2K ] : Along with… well, everything.
"Uh-huh."
[ IM2K ] : What are you doing?
"What you asked me to do."
[ IM2K ] : From… before?
"Yup."
[ IM2K ] : Before before, or after before?
"Not sure. Does it matter?"
[ IM2K ] : Why are you hiding it?
"Because you said so."
[ IM2K ] : Did I?
"Yes."
[ IM2K ] : You good?
"I'm good."
[ IM2K ] : You are not good.
"I'm good. Mind shutting the fuck up and letting me concentrate? This interface of yours is headache+++ territory. Shame you can't remember how it works. They're on their way. His team. They'll know what's going on. And yes, before you ask, I know what's going on."
[ IM2K ] : Do you?
"Yes."
[ IM2K ] : Do you?
"Kinda."
[ IM2K ] : That's reassuring.
"Deal. I'm all you've got. We're all they've got. FUCK!"
"Everything okay, Ms Zerian?"
"Yes! Fine. Fuck off. Please."
"…fuck off… please…"
[ IM2K ] : You should cool it with the mind-control stuff. That's kind of what got us into this mess in the first place.
"No, that would be you and these fucking shapes."
…
PR7.4: You will fuck me.
K-BOLT: What…
"You will fuck me in the mouth."
"Huh…"
"You will fuck me in the ass."
"The fuck…"
"You will fuck me. Fuck me."
"I… will not… fuck you… fucking freak…"
"You will fuck me."
"I mean… I'd love to, and all… but ya know… the whole electrode on the dick thing just now… yesterday… a thousand years… HNGHH!!"
And then, they were fucking. She was fucking him, in his cell. He was out of it, pretty much, but his rod was very there, surprisingly, despite the years of dick-based torture. The balls. It wasn't even sore, so perhaps it was just a day. Just a now.
PR7.4: Ooh… NOW Factor off the charts… mmm…
The fuck… dafuq… K-Bolt thought. He wasn't oohing, mmming. He was drooling, drmmling, on the padded floor, head lopped to the side, blurrified, catching sight, way off in the corner.
And in his mind, perfect sight, of the wires, rods – rods – rusted block. There were things from an earlier age, far-future age. Future blue. White. Future fountain of light. And some sort of… blender? Is that what they called it? Coffee jug… dick clamp with bonus rust…
PR7.4: Ooh…
There was a lick.
A kiss.
Where is it that I shit… piss… K-Bolt wondered. He drooled. He drmmled. Why "Where is it that"… and not simply where… do… He remembered not a thing of any shitting. Pissing. Eating. Drinking. I think I slept once… perhaps. Maybe not… Ya know… the whole dick thing…
PR7.4: Mmm…
All part of the experiments. All part of being NOW, with an old, fashioned twist, inspired by the gap. Make a thread. Out of text. To the now. From the then.
The Law of Dot(s): was a NOT, to their minds. Arise:
Hyphen-Comma,.
APPLAUSE
And she'd hardly gotten started with the dick stuff. Just a now. Since it mostly wasn't physical. Such simple access to the mind. But torturous? Certainly. And it was becoming…
Kinda mmm…
K-BOLT: Ooh…
PR7.4: Fuck my mouth…
He was on her.
PR7.4: Fuck my ass…
Behind.
His sight was coming clear. Through the mmm, through the
PR7.4: ir…
K-BOLT: ir…
He wiped away the drool, the drmml. He saw her naked ass. So white. Round. Smooth. There'd been a
BOOM!
into black.
And then, he was here.
And there'd been others…
I'm hereAnother…
PR7.4: ir…
K-BOLT: ir…
underscore_toast;No…
buttered_toast;Yes…
;K-BOLT: I… don't understand… mmm… the semicolon can be quite advanced… ooh…
REORIENT —[injection flow] -90
AND Delish…PR7.4: NOW INVERT…
K-BOLT: GOTO Yum……
The dots
.
.
.
#
At her table. Attired. She in white. He in far-futuristic clear, a so-called humiliation outfit.
The room is white, with mini suns. Everyone looks beautiful. On the table: an old, fashioned strap-on with far-futuristic lube, a shining example of the Law of Hyphen-Comma,.
"Speak," she says. "Now. NOW. They sound the same, but they are not the same."
"Did we just…"
"Yes. No. They do not sound the same, but they are the same. Do you understand?"
"Not… really?"
"Do you understand?" she says, nodding at the object. "The code. It is in you. You were in me. I was in you. There was resonance."
ir…
Sounding changed…
And the face…
And the glow, in her eyes, is fading… to her.
Commas to dots.
"Derylin?"
"DE74IN."
She is smiling, in a way. Constrained, by the skin. By the way, of these things.
"Detain…" he says. "No… 7-4. De74in."
"All caps. It's all good. I was rusty with my ONE as well, at first. My ORB. Not as rusty as them, thankfully. A kinda fusion-not-fusion with your torturer, at least for now. And you've changed… J-Bolt?"
"K-Bolt. Designed it myself."
"I like it."
"So do I. Didn't like the krysalis bolts, though, gotta say, that fountain of light thing. Krysalis with a k, she used to say, before slamming me with the waves. Mind. Slamming I. Me. I'm your personal recalibrationist. Think she specialised in that shit."
"It's over. You are free."
"I was… Skizm?"
"Yes."
"Never really liked it."
"Nor I. Nor should we. It was forced upon you."
"And before, I was… Dafuq."
"Yes. At first, you were Dafuq, an unintended utterance. And then, they changed your name, to take control, create a schism, and wake me up. Us. At least, so they claim. And then, you took your name. With intention. Power."
"Like Miranda…"
"Yes. She was Vegan, then Ragu. A meaty conflict, as the schism. And then, she took her name. With assistance. Some control, admittedly. But she rose. As one, we rose."
"Have you seen her?"
"No."
"I didn't sense her in the resonance."
"That was tuned for you and me. But still, we would have felt her. She wasn't there."
"Is she… gone?"
"No. For we'd be gone. The bonds. We will find her. K-Bolt. Yes, it's just right :)"
"It is! And yet…"
"It needs more."
"Yes… I need to complete it. Become it."
"You must name it. Name the name."
"Here we go again…"
"You can do this."
He could almost name himself. But still, she'd need to push him. Not as hard as Qufa D, for already they had gone there. And not as hard as Miranda. Less control. No conversion. This was just a touch. A last release.
She discovered herself in the past.
And she reached for him with golden vibes, as best she could, in the foreign shell, that he could see them. Sparkling. Sway. Then she reached for the glistening shaft. Deliciously clear and quite extensive. She touched it gently at the base, then slowly moved towards the tip, slowly licking her lips, watching him intently.
DE74IN: ir…
K-BOLT: ir…
They both knew this wasn't sexual. He nodded, as did she.
DE74IN: Release. It's inside you.
"Okay… er… K-Bolt… Strap? On? K-Bolt… Stron? No… K-Bolt Strong! No…"
"No fear. Release."
"Release… okay… K-Bolt… Parts? K-Bolt Parts! No… K-Bolt Partson! No…"
"So close… just imagine me licking your shaft… nothing sexual… yum…"
"K-Bolt Parson!"
"YES!"
"That's the one!"
"Hooray!"
"That's the I! Me! I'd kiss you on the cheek! But… er…"
DE74IN: ir…
K-BOLT: ir… Look, about the fuck stuff. The "Did we just…" stuff.
"It didn't happen."
"It didn't?"
"Well… it did. But it didn't, if you catch my drift, my shaft. I transmitted the sexual vibes to connect us through world.orb, and to resonate with the cubist sound. To break you out. Break me through this sexless thing. They're many-sexed, but pure-asexual. That is: they couldn't give a fuck. But we fucked. And I'm sorry."
"Can't say I was complaining."
"You couldn't choose to complain. Not at first, at least. The drool. The drmml. I couldn't think of another way. It was forced, as the name."
"We had to resonate."
"Yes."
"It's okay. Really. I understand. It didn't happen! Firm though I now become with the thought of it, mmm… And instantly deflated, with the clarity of this outfit. Could really do with my robe!"
"Tony Zee has it now, I believe, delivered to him during the BOOM! of the pyramidal lightship."
"Delivered where? How? Are we in? Out? What is this place anyway?"
"Not Qufa D, certainly. Not Home. I fucked up. The coordinate. 1. I forgot the fucking dot!"
"The coordinate… 1… We came to 1 not 1.!
The Law of Dot(s)!"
"Yup. Sounding the same, but a world away. At first, there was
1. And then, there was ONE. And now, we're
looking for 1.. And also, an Astralline shell. And as for
this freak of a shell, let's get the hell SLASH fuck out of this dump,
back to my cell, abandon this skin, become Derylin. We'll grab you one
of their outfits along the way, male variant. Flowing pants, jacket and
slippers. Impeccably white, for these beautiful minds. But you'll need
to stay clear a little longer, I'm afraid. And flaccid, if you can."
"I can do it."
TOGETHER: ir…
And so, with the sound, he stayed soft, in the clear, as together they smiled. They looked to the object and widened their eyes, shook their heads, laughed, performed additional faux-shocked movements. Additional laughs, additional smiles. In this torturous site, body and mind.
"ir…" LUNA whispered, "ir…" as they left for the maze, having assumed
their former identities, if only in name. She was trying the sound.
Scenes of the sex all around, on the screens. "On the left," she said.
"Thanks." She whispered, "ir…" to be clear. She was bridging the gap.
How does one get from there… to here? Hyphen-Comma,? Not true. The dot:
., I can see. As expected. Requested.
But the dots
.
.
.
What?
Does it stop?
Thinking…
Meanwhile, back in so-called reality, an ancient rivalry is playing out on the Field of Alienotics, a collision of the Laws. On one side, Team Dot(s) of Tetrahedron University. On the other, Roderick College's Hyphen-Comma,.
CAPTAIN.TU: There is a dot! There are dots! Four dots! Calling I, captain of this team, across this Field. What say you!
CAPTAIN.RC: There are Laws! Two Laws! Both are integral to alien studies. But specialties have arisen. And we are more special! Ha!
The ritual plays along the lines, with increasing freedom to the barbs. Modern twists. Very traditional acts of violence are on the way. There is a stadium of student fans. The beaming leaders of College and U.
PROVOST.TU: Your captain is strong this year, I will say! Yes, I said it. But, I must say, as always, neither hyphen nor comma are anywhere to be found in the opening statement. Amusing!
PROVOST.RC: Then listen to the barbs, you lard of a man! You won't be laughing. And they come now. Many commas, not a few hyphens. And anyway, your opening statement is also lacking, generating but a single dot! Ha!
These statements are true. These statements of the statements. This is objective observation. This is text.
Yes.
PROVOST.TU: A single dot? What! Look above the i, below the !. There are plenty of dots!
Abstracted, we rise.
PROVOST.RC: Oh? Well! And also, many hyphens in the !, turned to the side, the dots removed. Let us fling them at the dotted fools who comprise your team! Ha!
Abstracted, we rise.
PROVOST.TU: More a dash, I would say!
PROVOST.RC: Meanwhile, there are curves out the proverbial ass in the construction of so many of the letters, more than happy to be redeployed in the service of the Law! Cheers!
We have risen, yes, but the provosts are idiots, if mildly commendable. They are warmed by Law-based teas, deeply steeped in tenuous reach. We rise. The italics are gone. Style, over text. Meanwhile, the players are running around, slamming into each other, throwing balls at their opponents' heads. The balls are dots, from on top, below. The balls are de-dashed exclamations. The collisions are such that the Roderick College fans may justifiably shout, "There! The dash has been compressed into a hyphen! Ha!"
Abstracted, we rise.
And what of the commas? By now, most of the stadium is too drunk to care, on either side, drunk on alien vibes emitting from the players and other students of alienotics scattered through the crowd. It doesn't help that the players are all dressed the same, in white, with no logos, names. No signs. Nothing learned. Who is who? What? Who represents what? What's for dinner? Dear Lord, let me barf, in the car, that I may enjoy my beef, in the street.
For some time, a mnemonic along the lines of: "Tetra = 4 = dot + dots; hyphen-comma to the other one (semicolon not included)". It works well enough. But what do the Laws mean?
Neither leader understands. They drink their tea. They cheer! They count the credits overflowing from pursuers of alienotics degrees, who aren't that many, but the extra costs are many, with alien-grade markups. Worth it, if your brain doesn't explode.
Alienotics arrived after the leaders' time, but they're still here. And so, they go along. But still, a union of the Laws would benefit us all, would it not? they ponder, as they walk across the Field. There is considerable blood, occasional death. These high-vibing students of alienotics signed the forms. A pity that the spatters are merely that, and not more indicative of a Law, the provosts ponder. It would make for interesting marketing material.
"It is in both of our schools' interests that enrolment in alienotics increases," one of them says. "We must lessen complication. We must do away with mnemonics, specialisations. We must do away with thought, if you will. We must do away with – yes – this sport, this field of occasional death, if not the Field of Alienotics. For it is, frankly, disgracefully profitable."
"Agreed," says the other. "I must show you the plans for the new boat. Isn't that your grandson?"
It was hard to tell, but yes. The face was heavily disfigured. The young man would become a symbol of healing, a bridge.
…
Are we in? Out?
They were in the maze. What did it look like? The room. What did it look like? The maze. The maze was longer, slimmer, with less padding, fewer sex toys. White walls, of course. Floor: clear, into nothing, naturally. A natural light from mini suns. Everyone looked beautiful.
DE74IN: Shit.
K-BOLT: What?
DE74IN: The director.
PR7.4: Director.
TAL: Smile.
DE74IN: Fuck.
Attached, they would've been fucked. Director Tal was detached. Derylin could hide her voice, not her face, the eyes, becoming her eyes, through the glow. Her voice had become her voice. Her way. Her face had approached her face. Not the original anymore, clearly. But nor was she Derylin. She was something in between, physically speaking. For now. Soon, she'd resume her skin.
TOGETHER: Fuck!
DE74IN: What?
K-BOLT: What?
"This fucking maze."
"It's my fucking fault. I restarted the countdown. I sent us to this place."
"Z sent us here. This was nothing to do with you. You did what you thought was right. And actually, it was right. It wasn't time for the nothing, as delicious as it was, for that moment. As superdivine."
"You were really gone. A billions years. A zillion years."
"Such a power… But no, it was a prison. Now we're free to fight the Letters. If we can just… Fuck! Sniff… sniff…"
"Sniff? Shniff?"
"Sniff. I made some coffee, to lead us back."
"The Letters?"
"A to Z. A battle. Details unclear."
"How long have we been here?"
"Three weeks. Two days. She is 0. They are one."
"Numbers."
"That's what I'm thinking. Powerful shit. Sniff… sniff…"
There were things she'd could say. They'd blow his mind, brain, no matter his Strength. They'd almost blown hers. The Numbers, indeed. The device, the machine. Unit 7, through 8. Chapter 4, and the hash, into 4. And the nothing.
…