Out of Spite, Out of Mind

by Scott Meyer

  “Are you arguing that I copied your ownership when I copied the ships?”

  “Yes.”

  Brit the One Hour Elder ended the call without saying a word to Phillip.

  Gwen and Brit the One Hour Elder busied themselves assisting the other wizards and sorceresses, directing people onto the barges, breaking up fights, and assuring people that they didn’t need to struggle to keep their families on the same barge, as all of them were going to the same beach on the mainland.

  Twenty minutes after beginning the evacuation, the wizards watched as the last of the citizens stepped down from the dock onto one of Martin’s automated barges. Most of the wizards followed the flotilla, flying a few yards above the ocean. Even Gwen moved on, putting distance between herself and the magic-made city that now seemingly had been destroyed in a magic-made disaster.

  Only the two present Brits, Brit the Younger and Brit the One Hour Elder, remained behind, looking down into the bowl. They watched the entire city, the city they had imagined and would one day build, randomly flicker between looking perfectly normal and resembling a poorly rendered mock-up of itself.

  Brit the Younger said, “At least the water seems to slow it down.”

  As the glitch spread down the docks to the very farthest points from Brit the Elder’s home at the city’s rim, the water lapping at the affected surfaces did change, flickering in unison with the rest of the city, but the spread of the error slowed to a crawl once it hit the water.

  “Maybe it’s because the water’s in motion,” Brit the Younger said. “Or because the molecules aren’t bonded to one another.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Brit the One Hour Elder said. “I’m not cheered up by the idea that the inevitable destruction of all things has been slowed down. If we don’t think of a way to fix this, it’ll spread to all of the world’s water, and all of the land that touches it, like some kind of digital ice-nine.”

  “In a way, I think Vonnegut would be pleased.”

  “We have to think of a way to fix this.”

  “Maybe we do,” Brit the Younger said. “Or maybe, any second now, another me will turn up and fix everything.”

  They floated there in silence for a moment, then Brit the Younger started to write something in her notebook.

  “You don’t have to make a note of the fact that nobody showed up,” Brit the One Hour Elder said. “I’ll remember. Look, my job’s done here. I’ll be on my way. I’d say that I’ll see you later, but you’ll be me an hour from now.”

  With that, Brit the One Hour Elder disappeared.

  Brit the Younger placed an invisible spherical force field around the entire city, more to keep people from wandering into the error than to prevent it from spreading. After that, she flew out toward the flotilla, past Martin, Phillip, and the captain of the original barge.

  Phillip said, “The barges aren’t going to be of any use to you. We’re just going to make them disappear when the people have unloaded.”

  The captain shouted, “Are you threatening to destroy my property?!”

  25.

  Three hours later, most of the wizards sat around in Gary’s newly remodeled home in Medieval England.

  Shortly after they all reconvened, Louiza and Jimmy left to put their heads together on a solution to the glitch without distractions. Brit the Younger excused herself to go be Brit the One Hour Elder and guide the evacuation of Atlantis. She returned in a matter of seconds, and the two functioning Brits got to work.

  Brit the Younger and Brit the Much Elder had made it clear that the only way the others could really assist them would be to stop trying. Since then, the others had merely sat on the two built-in sofas that lined the sides of Gary’s brand-new conversation pit, feeling utterly superfluous yet too emotionally invested in the proceedings to leave. Besides, the Brits could declare that they were ready to try their fix at any moment, and everyone wanted to be there, either to watch it happen or try to stop them. The others wouldn’t be sure which until the time came. They sat as far from the Brits as they could, lest the grim silence grow too distracting for them.

  The Brits worked on two identical high-powered computers, set up on the dining table with two monitors each. Every monitor had the same sets of windows, open in the same pattern. Martin found the whole scene weirdly fractal, but he looked at the faces of his friends and chose not to mention it.

  Brit the Elder hung, suspended in midair, frozen in the exact position she’d sat in back at her home. Her left arm was extended in front of her as if it rested on her desk. Her right hand hovered in space, the index finger extending downward to press the button of a mouse that was nowhere to be found. A dry washcloth protruded from her mouth, deadening the constant squeal she produced. The washcloth had long since started glitching at random intervals, just like Brit the Elder herself.

  Clear down at the far end of the room, Future Phillip sat, leaning against the wall, sulking in his silent prison. He’d been told that he could go free if he’d just tell them how to fix the mess they were in, but he said nothing and stayed in his transparent box.

  Across from Martin were Tyler, Gary, and Roy, looking around in a bored, uncomfortable manner, each exuding that unique attitude that most men are capable of but only use in theaters and airplanes: that they don’t want to seem uncomfortable sitting next to each other, but are still going to great pains to make sure that there is no physical contact whatsoever.

  Martin glanced at Gwen, who sat beside him on the couch, drumming her fingers. They were all in a terrible, stressful situation, but he and Gwen had made up, and Martin refused to feel guilty for being happy about it. Beyond her, Phillip sat, ramrod straight, with his eyes closed in thought.

  All in all, the wizards had little to do but stand by, look concerned, and examine Gary’s redecorated home.

  The quality of the décor was all too predictable. Gary had created a stylish bachelor pad as envisioned by a man with little or no style. Dim lights almost illuminated walnut paneling and an assortment of darkly colored furnishings, as if Gary had figured that if people couldn’t really see his home, they would simply assume it was cool.

  “Where are all of your apprentices?” Jeff asked.

  Gary said, “Out in the clearing in front of the cave, doing some landscaping. I’m thinking of putting in a swimming pool. I’d disguise it to look like a pit full of blood or lava or something, but it’ll be a normal pool full of water, with a diving board and a spa.”

  “Inground or above ground?” Tyler asked.

  Gary grimaced at him. “Inground! Who’s ever heard of an above-ground pit of blood? That’d just look cheap.”

  Martin said, “You should have had them make you a shoe rack. If you’re going to make us take off our shoes before we come in, you should give us somewhere nice to put them, instead of just making us leave them in a heap outside the door.”

  “I’ve got a brand-new carpet to protect, and I like the shoe heap,” Gary said. “If any locals see it, they’ll assume the shoes belonged to my victims.”

  Martin ran his foot across the cream-colored shag, noting that his toes almost got lost in the strands. “It is quite a carpet. I didn’t know they made them this . . . thick.”

  “I had to special order it. It’s the deepest pile they can make.”

  Gwen said, “The pile is deep, I’ll give you that.”

  Roy examined the joinery of one of the dining chairs. “I’ll admit, the workmanship’s really good for a bunch of untrained medieval peasants.”

  Gary laughed. “No, this isn’t the stuff they made. I went to the future, bought what I wanted, then had the guys try to make something similar. When they were pretty much done, I swapped what they made with the good stuff in a cloud of smoke and a light show, and told them the tools I gave them were enchanted.”

  “Wh
y go to the trouble?” Tyler asked.

  “I wanna build up their confidence, make them feel like they’re capable of accomplishing things.”

  “So you lied to them?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t know any other way to do it, in their case.”

  Martin looked at Phillip. He had been through an awful lot, and Martin was concerned for his friend. “How’s your hand?”

  Phillip flexed the fingers of his right hand. He had put on a black glove, and pulled his robe sleeve down to cover his wrist. “It feels okay. I think it’s almost up to the elbow, but I kinda don’t have the nerve to look. I saw Brit the Elder’s problem spread to her shoes, but I just didn’t think about it spreading to other people. What’s done is done. I’ve got more important things to worry about. You know, I considered going with a sequined glove, as sort of a tribute to Michael Jackson.”

  Martin said, “Eh, I’d suggest a metal gauntlet, like in Army of Darkness. It’s a bit less dated of a reference.”

  Gwen muttered, “Just a bit.”

  Phillip looked up toward Brit the Younger, who was pouring all of her concentration into the computer monitor. Martin saw a strange certainty in Phillip’s eyes, as if he had made some momentous decision and now intended to act on it.

  Martin said, “No.”

  “What?” Phillip asked.

  “Don’t do it.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Whatever you’re about to do.”

  “You have no idea what I intend to do.”

  “True, but I know it’s something, and anything you could do, other than sit there looking unhappy, would be a mistake.”

  “I’m just going to tell Brit—”

  Martin put up a hand. “I’ll stop you there. Making contact, any contact with Brit, any Brit, is a terrible move. One of them can’t talk to anybody, and the other two don’t want to talk to you.”

  Phillip said, “I know, and that’s why I need to talk to them.”

  Gwen shook her head. “You see? You see what women have to put up with?”

  All of the male wizards who weren’t Phillip nodded.

  Roy said, “Phil, when your engine overheats, do you let it cool off or do you step on the gas? Give them time to cool down.”

  “I need to make it clear that I’m sorry, and that I want to help.”

  Tyler nodded. “Understandable.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And you intend to do so by doing something you know they don’t want.”

  “I rescind my thank-you.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Gwen said. “You should double down on it. The guys are giving you good relationship advice. I’m as surprised as anyone. If you’re smart, you’ll listen, and do nothing until some Brit gives you a signal that she wants to talk to you.”

  Phillip said, “You’re probably right. I should wait for them to make a move.”

  “Yes, you should.”

  “Unless . . .”

  “No!” Gwen pointed at him. “No unless!”

  “Unless by not talking to me, they’re leaving me an opening. They could be waiting for me to make the first move. Why, if you look at it that way, I’d be a fool not to go talk to them.”

  “Yes,” Martin said. “If you look at it that way, that way being incorrectly.”

  Phillip stood up, straightened out his robe, and asked Gwen, “How do I look?”

  “Like a man about to make a terrible mistake.”

  Phillip ignored her and walked to the edge of the conversation pit, near the table where Brit the Younger and Brit the Much Elder were hard at work, conferring in hushed tones over some line of code or other.

  Phillip smiled sheepishly, looked up, as he was standing in a pit beneath the Brits, and cleared his throat.

  Brit the Younger said, “No.”

  Phillip walked up the two steps out of the pit. “I just wanted to—”

  Brit the Much Elder looked at him, not entirely unsympathetically. “You heard her.”

  Phillip didn’t slow his pace as he hooked around in a tight U-turn, stepped back down into the pit, walked back to his seat, and sat down. As he settled into his seat, he noted the looks of sadness mixed with amusement on the faces of his friends. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Future Phillip, sitting, disconsolate, in his invisible prison, making an obscene gesture at him.

  “That went exactly as well as I expected,” Gwen said.

  A high-pitched warbling sound rang out. Gary held up his left hand. A flat image of Jimmy giving a thumbs-up in front of the famous Reno: The Biggest Little City in the World arch floated in the empty space above his upturned palm.

  “You gave him a custom ring image?” Phillip grumbled.

  Gary answered the call. “What’s up, Jimmy?”

  “Louiza and I have been talking, and we have a suggestion to make. Is everyone still at your place?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mind if we come over?”

  “Sure. See you soon.”

  Gary hung up.

  Phillip asked, “Are you really comfortable having Jimmy in your home?”

  Gary said, “He called before he came over. That’s more than any of you does anymore.”

  Jimmy and Louiza appeared.

  Jimmy said, “Hey, everyone. Louiza and I have been looking at things.”

  Gary said, “Shoes.”

  “What?”

  “My carpet. It’s brand-new. Please take off your shoes.”

  Jimmy and Louiza both hastily slipped off their shoes. Louiza bent at the knees, scooping her shoes up off of the ground in a single fluid movement. She looked around for a moment, then asked, “Where should we put them?”

  Gary said, “There’s a big pile of them just outside the door.”

  “Clearly, you think how we treat your carpet is more important than how we treat our shoes.”

  Gary shrugged. “To me, yes. It’s my carpet, and they aren’t my shoes.”

  Once they’d deposited their shoes on the top of the pile of footwear just outside the door, Jimmy said, “So, as I was saying, Louiza and I have been looking at things. Combining what she knows about medical research and what I know about altering people’s file entries, we’ve worked out a schedule for how to safely research Brit the Elder’s problem and, in time, come up with a solution.”

  Everyone faced Jimmy and Louiza except Brit the Younger, who kept her eyes on her monitor.

  Brit the Much Elder said, “Hey, Brit, they say—”

  “I heard what they said.”

  “Well, don’t you think you should listen to—”

  “I am listening to them. I can listen and work at the same time. That’s how I heard him in the first place.”

  Brit the Much Elder shrugged and turned her attention back to Jimmy and Louiza.

  Louiza said, “Everyone agrees that we need to figure out what’s gone wrong with Brit the Elder, and by extension Atlantis and Phillip’s hand. Jimmy and I have laid out some protocols for how to ethically experiment with the code in a way that will slowly build until, eventually, you’ll be able to make certain specific changes to Brit the Elder’s code with a reasonable certainty of safety.”

  Gwen asked, “Could you please define what you mean by a reasonable certainty of safety?”

  “Don’t bother,” Brit the Younger said, still focusing on her monitor. “Tell me about eventually. How long is that?”

  Louiza shook her head. “It’s impossible to say for sure.”

  “Take a guess.”

  “You can’t rush these things.”

  “So, how long will I be wishing I could rush it?”

  Jimmy bit his lip. “Phase one should take around . . . I’d say six months
.”

  Brit the Younger took her eyes off of her monitor and spun her chair to the side so she faced Jimmy and Louiza. “It should take around six months? Should, about. There’s a lot of wiggle room in those words. How long would it take, exactly?”

  Jimmy said, “Probably somewhat longer.”

  “Probably, somewhat?”

  Louiza said, “We can’t tell you exactly, because we don’t know, but we believe it would take at least six months.”

  “For phase one?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how many phases are there?”

  Jimmy said, “Something like five.”

  “Something like?”

  “Depending on how successful it is. If any of the phases fail, we’ll need to repeat it until it works.”

  Brit the Younger said, “No, thank you.”

  “But then we can come back in time with the solution, and Brit the Elder, Atlantis, and Phillip’s hand would all be fixed immediately.”

  “That’s not the problem. Look, Brit the Much Elder and I have found the chunk of memory we think got corrupted. It’ll take us maybe another twenty minutes to make sure we have all of it, then we can replace it with the uncorrupted section from our memory, and we should have this all handled within the hour.”

  “It’s risky.”

  “Maybe. There’s a chance that something could go wrong, or that it won’t work. The same thing’s true of your plan. It’s dangerous too, and it has a one hundred percent chance of taking years of work to execute. If my choices are fast and dangerous versus slow and dangerous, I’ll take fast and dangerous every time.”

  Jimmy said, “Yes, but remember, we’re time travelers. We wouldn’t experience it in real time.”

  “The rest of you wouldn’t but I would,” Brit the Younger nearly shouted. “For all of you, a future version of me would pop up any second now, present the fix she worked on for years, and then you all will say Problem solved, then, and get on with your lives. I’m the one who’ll be stuck doing the years of work.”

  Phillip said, “You wouldn’t have to do it alone. We’d all help.”