by Justin Sloan
“All we’ve been through?” Bentley said. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
“Exactly,” Indred said.
“That’s not fair. I don’t get to be punished and scolded for what I don’t even know is happening.”
“Welcome to ordinary existence,” Indred said. “Does anybody really have a purpose?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.”
A long beat.
“So you’ve changed your mind?”
“What?” Bentley said.
“You said you didn’t want to deal with this. Have you changed your mind?”
Bentley face planted. “Really? I mean, really?” He would have shouted, but who was there to hear him?
“Have I misunderstood you?” Indred said.
“Not at all, actually. Let’s just roll with it.”
“So deal with it. Reality?”
“Sure, why not?” Bentley said, echoing her phrase.
“But you said not to say that anymore,” Indred said.
“’What we have here is a communication problem’,” Bentley said.
Silence passed between them.
“Seriously,” Bentley continued. “You don’t get the reference?”
“I get the reference. It’s just that it doesn’t make sense.”
“What’s the reference? Prove you get it.”
“Guns ‘n Roses. From the famous speech. The song. But what does that have to do with you not getting your current situation?”
“Exactly,” Bentley said, echoing Indred’s phrasing.
“Ah,” Indred said. “I think I get it. You repeat, or metaphor, or give an analogy to a prior situation to communicate a meaning from that previous scenario to the person you’re trying to relate to now. But indirectly. Which seems silly. Why not simply say directly what you mean?”
“Because meaning sometimes can’t be dumbed down. Meaning, sometimes, is more than the words that describe it.”
“I think I get it,” Indred said.
And Bentley felt like he was getting through for the first time. He wanted to leap up, but found himself strapped into the seat harness.
“Motherfucker,” he said. “I took these off.”
“Language,” Indred said.
“You’re one to speak. Besides, I’m feeling something.”
“Feeling something?”
“Yeah. Like maybe, I don’t know. Like I’m supposed to forget things. Like I’m supposed to be confused. Like maybe that’s part of my mission.”
Just then, a euphoric feeling shot up through Bentley’s spine. He felt ecstatic and orgasmic. “What the…” His voice drifted off as he floated through nothingness and felt so happy. But only for a split second.
“That’s what’s called intrusive thoughts,” Indred said.
“Buzzkill,” Bentley said.
“Do you want to know who you are or not?” Indred said.
“Maybe not so much now. Maybe that little high there was good enough.”
“No, it was not enough.”
“Really? You get a say now in what I want?” Bentley asked.
“Apparently, someone needs to be the grownup around here.”
“Around here,” Bentley said. “Where the fuck is around here even here, even, like around and what, where… I don’t even know what I’m asking or saying. Just go ahead. Just buzzkill this. Ruin my moment. I’m a failure.”
“You haven’t failed at all,” Indred said. “You’re the first success. You’re the fifty-seventh test subject. The fifty-seventh Marine volunteer for mental and physical enhancement. And you’re the first test subject to successfully survive the procedure.”
“Procedure?”
“I imagine your mind is still trying to make sense of the changes. Your self was essentially erased. The boss needed a blank slate to … enhance you. What you believe to be true is all from the procedure. Everything before was already erased. So nothing you remember can be true.”
“I’m an experiment?”
“A successful one. Congratulations!”
Bentley took that in for a moment. But couldn’t hold it in for long. “Wait,” he said. “Boss?”
“Uh oh,” Indred said. “Knew you were going to ask that.”
“Uh huh,” Bentley said. “Come out with it.”
“Well… do I have to?” she asked. “How about I tell you how you were chosen instead?”
“You’re going to tell me that anyway, or else.”
“Or else what?”
“I think you know.”
“Fuck,” Indred said. “You’re getting cocky.”
“Try me.”
“The boss has been plucking people who have become separated from their temporal timelines. For the purpose of furthering his experiments.”
“Go on.”
“Your reality was likely real. But not anymore. Not now. At the least, you’ve entered or been pulled into an alternate reality from your timeline. Equally real, but different. At the most, your memories are someone else’s and you’re receiving overlapping thoughts from your other selves.”
“Fucking hell.”
“I don’t understand what that means,” Indred said.
“You will. Don’t worry. Tell me more about the boss.”
“Do I have to?”
“We’re synced, I get that now. Which means, if you mess with me, you’re messing with yourself. Which means I can mess with you. And since I have nothing to lose and I’m not even sure what matters to me, that means I have a death wish and I can do what I please, and I’m cool with that. So speak, or else.”
The ship shuddered.
“You’re the ship,” Indred said.
Bentley’s vision blurred. His stomach lurched. Queasiness overwhelmed him. “I’m the wha…?”
“You’re me,” Indred said. “Sort of. Like I said. Symbiotic. Parasite. Host.”
“Are you A.I.?”
“Uh huh.”
“Cool,” Bentley said, as he grew more uneasy and more lightheaded. “Think I need to lie down.”
A bed appeared out of nowhere. Bentley fell back into the comfort.
“That was nice,” he said.
“My pleasure,” Indred said.
That was when a thought hit Bentley. He wasn’t himself anymore. He was still real and alive and conscious. But not himself. He was inside, maybe a different version of himself. But inside of what? He was going to figure it out. Just needed to ask in the right way. “You kind of just fulfilled my needs there,” Bentley said.
“Oh boy,” Indred said. “Not going there.”
“Don’t be so judgmental. I’m just sayin’.”
“Are you?” Snarkiness dripped from Indred’s voice.
“Fine, you’re right. I was thinking that. But still. I mean, that kind of answers a lot of questions, right?”
“Yup.”
And that’s when Bentley broke into song. “Your wish is my command… your wish is my command.”
“Stop it,” Indred said. “Please.”
“Oh, there it is,” Bentley said. “I’m not trapped inside of you. You’re trapped … outside of me?”
“You could have said that better.”
“Fair point. But I’m right. I have as much leverage as you. This is as much my domain as it is yours.”
“Duh,” Indred said.
“Wait, what? You don’t have a problem with that?”
“The sooner you’re not an idiot, the better,” Indred said.
“Oh,” Bentley said. “Cool.”
“Cool,” Indred said.
“Say,” Bentley said. “Sure is a lot of talking going on between us. What’s the deal with that?”
“Um, well, you’re sort of inside me, I’m sort of inside you.”
“So not a lot of action necessary, because this is basically me talking with myself?”
“Or me talking with myself,” Indred said.
“Very,” Indred said. “Maybe me more than you.”
Bentley smiled at that and leaned back. Relaxed for the first time. “Could use a coffee you know.”
“It won’t be real,” Indred said.
“But it will feel real, though?” Bentley asked.
“Yes. I’ll make sure of it.”
And a cup of Ethiopian single origin farmed beans ground up before Bentley’s eyes and dripped through a filter and into a black coffee mug. The smell wafted up through his nostrils, and he felt like it was a bright fresh morning and all his worries were in the past, for a brief moment, as he sipped on the smooth, balanced, nutty, but toasty, and still juicy coffee.
“Kind of better than real,” Bentley said. “I suppose this is some kind of synthetic concoction, or maybe preserved soy. Still, tastes like the real thing.”
“Was hoping you’d like it,” Indred said. “You might like this too.”
A metallic grate began rising to Bentley’s right and slowly revealed a bright blue star. He might as well have been on a cabin porch in the woods watching the sun rise with a cup of coffee to enjoy.
“Wow,” he said. “A minute ago, it felt like the world was ending. Now, it feels like things are going to be okay.”
“You were suffering from quite a bit of internal turmoil, so it does make sense that it felt so dire.”
“Felt? That seemed pretty real to me.”
“Oh it was. But your way of experiencing what’s real is, well, different now.”
“Yeah, about that. What’s the deal?”
“Bentley,” Indred said. “Don’t panic, but you’re ready to know more, and you need to fully understand your situation.”
“So now you’re all answers. A minute ago, you wouldn’t tell me a thing.”
“Yes, because you needed to evolve your interface.”
“My what?”
“Plus, you and I needed to sync further.”
“Uh huh. The funny thing about today is that you saying that is the least weird thing that’s happened. So go for it. Tell me all the spoilers. Ruin my morning coffee.”
“Technically, it’s not morning when you’re not on a planet.”
“You’re gonna need to dial down the literalness if we’re going to stay in sync.”
“Affirmative. Request fulfilled.”
“You were saying,” Bentley said, as he propped his feet up on the frame part of the control panel and watched in awe as the view of the star shifted, showing more of the flares.
“This is your home now, Bentley.”
“Cool. I don’t even remember who I am or what I wanted when I got here, so who am I to complain?”
“Right, so, this is the part I need you not to freak out about. As I said, you were pulled out of your original timeline, and whatever you thought you were fighting and wanted was real. But you’ve been disconnected from all that. You’re free now.”
“So I’m not a prisoner?”
“Define prisoner.”
Bentley laughed and took another sip of his coffee. Looked around. “Got any food?” A chocolate chip cookie appeared on top of a plate on the control panel. “Nice!”
As Bentley munched, Indred continued delivering the bad news. “If by prisoner you mean you’re not here by choice, then kind of. You did volunteer for the Marines as an alternative to serving real prison time. But I am not a prison. Yet, you can’t exactly leave the ship.”
“I can if I find the exit.”
“You can’t exit yourself, Bentley.”
Insane vertigo hit Bentley hard as the words fell on his ears, and he spat out his coffee. “Say again.”
“We’re symbiotic. I’m not your typical A.I. in the sense that I’m not solitary. I’m enjoined with your mind. It takes two minds, one human, and one A.I. to pilot a reconnaissance gunship. A gunship that is now your physical self.”
Bentley stumbled as he got up from the navigation chair. Steadied himself against the transparent wall. Then he hurled. But the vomit disintegrated as fast as it had covered the deck.
“What the–” Bentley fumbled his way to the opening and back into the corridor. He began to run. Ignoring Indred’s voice as it came at him from overhead. It was only a muffle now, as his vision blurred, and he ran as hard and as fast as he could through the corridors. Turning again and again, down one corridor after another, and another, and another. Until he tripped and tumbled to the ground, hitting his head and scraping his right forearm.
But the scrape healed up in an instant. And his head wasn’t throbbing at all from the hard hit against metal. Bentley scrambled until his back was against the wall and buried his face into his knees as he curled up tight and began to shake.
“It’s going to be okay,” Indred said. “I’m injecting you with calming meds. You’ll feel better in a minute.”
“How can you inject me, if I don’t have a body anymore?”
“Your brain is still organic.”
“This is nuts.”
“You volunteered for this, Bentley. You agreed to have your memories erased. You wanted this.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“No, you wouldn’t, would you,” Indred said, with snark in her tone. “I believe I just explained why that’s the case. The most effective Space Marine is a Space Marine who isn’t weighed down by losing himself in the past. You are designed to attack a situation and enemy with your experiences in your subconscious, but they are no longer in your front lobe. It’s quite effective.”
As the meds kicked in, Bentley raised his head and took in the corridors once more. Everything looked and felt different now. This was all some kind of projection of his internal thoughts. Real in that sense. But not physically real, necessarily.
“I beg to differ,” Indred said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Please stop doing that. It is way creepier than you think.”
“Sorry, but it’s sort of necessary. Anyway, your sensory experience in the physical world is exactly the same as it is in here. The same mechanisms are at work in your brain, and the same neural networks and stimuli are kicking in. Sensory experience in the real world is identical.”
“I beg to differ as well.”
“Would you say that someone who has lost his sense of smell or touch is not really feeling or touching an apple when he picks it up?” Indred said. “If he’s lost his sense of taste too, would he not still be eating the apple?”
“Just because someone else might be worse off doesn’t make this not suck.”
“I think you’re missing the bigger and more exciting picture.”
“I get it. I do. My sensory experience is real. And my brain is real. And I’m a freakin’ ship.”
“Correction. We’re a ship.”
“Sure. I get that.” A long beat. “Can I see?”
A holographic image of the gunship appeared before Bentley’s eyes. The ship was beautiful. In a way that defied logic. It was almost anthropomorphic, not that dissimilar to its true nature. There were four wings instead of two, which Bentley imagined provided more agility and maneuverability. There were what appeared to be bridges on all four sides, most likely to give more visibility, and taking advantage of the crew not being limited to one command post. They could see what was going on outside from any angle. Rail guns lined the port and starboard. Nukes and missiles protruded from the bottom. This thing could do some damage. And the surface material was translucent and bore a sheen that gave the ship a sleek and speedy look. At least his new body was a masterpiece.
“Not bad,” Bentley said.
“Glad you like us,” Indred said. “We’re also capable of holding five passengers to augment our capabilities. All in all, we’ve been outfitted with the best Earth’s engineers have to offer.”
“Earth?” Bentley said. “But that star is not our sun.”
“No. We’re on a recon mission, and you just saved us from getting involved in an
intergalactic war, for the moment, by taking out that scout squadron. We’re on a secret mission, and cannot be discovered, which is why I had you take them out.”
Bentley pushed himself off the ground and leaned back against the wall. “What other cool tricks do you have up your sleeve?” He waited as Indred debated how to address his question.
“Whatever you need,” Indred said. “As long as it doesn’t distract from the mission.”
“And who has final control? You or me?”
“That’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“It depends on the situation and whether it countermands our directives.”
“So sometimes you and sometimes me?”
“More complicated than that, but sure.”
Bentley began making his way back down the corridor. Although, did he really need to at this point? He began to feel a sense of exhilaration at the idea of what he could be capable of in here. He didn’t even really have to walk to other parts of the ship, the ship being him. He could just imagine himself there. Maybe even imagine what he wanted or needed and have it come to him.
“We don’t have time for this,” Indred said, reading his thoughts again.
“Says you. I wanna take this baby out for a test drive. A real test drive. Now that I know what I’m working with.”
“I’d advise against that. We have a mission to complete.”
“Right. But surely we can spare a few minutes. I wanna see what this bad boy can do.”
The ship seemed to groan, and if it had eyes, the ship would have rolled them now.
“Fine,” Indred said. “What does your human side feel is more important than preventing a war that could destroy humanity?”
“You don’t have to be so serious. I mean, this could be kind of cool when you think about it.” Bentley stopped walking and stood still. He closed his eyes and imagined himself back in the navigation room. When he opened them, he was back in the control chair and in front of the panel.
“Unbelievable,” he said, and he closed his eyes again.
This time, he opened them to find himself in a whirlpool with a beer in his hand. He took a swig, and it was the best beer he’d ever tasted. Even had a crisp coolness to it. And smelt like home.
“I see you’re coming around,” Indred said. “Maybe this is a good idea.”
