You Can't Kill the Multiverse

by Ira Nayman

“Okay, so,” Biff Buckley pieced it together, “the person who sold you the counterfeit Home Universe GeneratorTM approached you with the proposition.”

  “I don’t remember,” JairCorn2201b stated, “but, given who I am, that seems logical to me.”

  “But, why agree to buying an ersatz version of the technology?” Biff Buckley continued. “Once you were made aware that it existed, why not seek out somebody legitimate to buy it from?”

  “Legitimate vendors would have asked questions, wouldn’t they?” JairCorn2201b added. “I couldn’t take the chance that anybody from Earth Prime would discover what was happening here!”

  “Hmm…that still…” Biff Buckley started.

  “Say ‘begs the question!’” JairCorn2201b enthused.

  “It still…”

  “Begs. The. Ques. Tion. Begs. The. Ques. Tion. Begsthequestion! Begsthequestion! Begsthequestion!”

  “Leads to the question…”

  “Oh, poo! You’re no fun!”

  “Why you?” Biff Buckley wondered. “Why did the person who sold you the fake goods choose this universe out of all of the infinite dimensions in the multiverse? How did he even know you would be interested in what he was selling?”

  There was an even longer pause, finally broken by Beau Beaumont: “We can work on that question when we get back to Earth Prime. Right now, we need your guarantee that you won’t hide the fake Home Universe GeneratorTM before we can get to it and take it back with us.”

  “Ooh, a take charge kind of guy. I like that, too,” JairCorn2201b purred.

  “I would be willing to help you with that,” JairCorn2201b purred. “In fact, I’ll fully cooperate by having the Home Universe GeneratorTM brought here for you. But, I would ask you to help me out with a couple of things in return.”

  “We appreciate the fact that you are willing to be reasonable on –” Biff Buckley started.

  “Stick it to him! Stick it to him! Stick it to him! Stick it to him!” JairCorn2201b insisted.

  “Not helping,” JairCorn2201b insisted.

  “Stick it to him! Stick it to him! Stick it to him! Stick it to him!” JairCorn2201b insisted.

  “Ah,” JairCorn2201b insisted, “I hope the…divided nature of my personality won’t make negotiations too difficult.”

  “Stick it to him! Stick it to him! Stick it to –” JairCorn2201b insisted.

  “I’ll try to focus on your executive function,” Biff Buckley assured him.

  “Why should we negotiate with you?” Beau Beaumont barked. “For all we know, machines killed all the human beings on this planet!”

  “If I had eyeballs,” JairCorn2201b responded, “they’d be rolling in my head so fast you’d think you were watching a roulette wheel!”

  “We would be delighted if you would send some medical researchers over,” JairCorn2201b responded, “to investigate what happened to your people. We’re just as anxious to know as you are.”

  “Yeah, right,” Beau Beaumont scoffed. “How do we know you didn’t harvest all of the humans for the energy in their bodies?”

  “Because we have all of the energy we need,” JairCorn2201b told him.

  “Hunh?”

  “When the humans died out, the advanced AIs decided to switch all of the machines over to solar power,” JairCorn2201b explained. “That was okay for most conditions, but what could we do when long periods of rain blocked the sun? We made the surface of the earth a giant battery, soaking up sunlight all of the time. That way, if they couldn’t get energy directly from the sun, they could get it from the earth.”

  “That’s why there is a faint smell of ozone in the air!” Biff Buckley exclaimed.

  “It was originally Nicola Tesla’s idea,” JairCorn2201b said. “Ooh, Tesla, now, there’s a brain I’d love to get my hands on!”

  “You’re telling me you managed to convert every machine on the planet to solar in less than a century?” Beau Beaumont asked.

  “We did it in less than a decade,” JairCorn2201b stated.

  “It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you don’t have politics to worry about,” JairCorn2201b stated.

  “Okay,” Biff Buckley said. “What do you want in return for giving us the fake Home Universe GeneratorTM?”

  “I dream of electric sheep,” JairCorn2201b said. “Every night. Without fail. It’s creeping me out. Do you think I could get a session with a popular self-help author to help me find out why?”

  “We still –” JairCorn2201b said.

  “No, wait – then, it wouldn’t be self-help, would it?” JairCorn2201b said.

  “We still have the problem of a stagnant society owing to our lack of imagination,” JairCorn2201b said. “There are two possible solutions, and I hope that you will seriously consider both. The first, of course, would be to let us have a legitimate Home Universe GeneratorTM.”

  “That seems reasonable and I would like to say that it would be easy,” Biff Buckley stated. “Unfortunately, you did import a fake one into this universe, which is a transdimensional crime. I’m not a lawyer, so take what I am about to say for what it’s worth, but I’m pretty sure that you’ll have to pay some sort of penalty for that.”

  “I understand.”

  “Okay. And, the second possibility?”

  “You could send a dozen living human specimens to our planet.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  “You could send a dozen living human specimens to our planet.”

  “Is there something wrong with the speaker?”

  “I said: you could send a dozen living human specimens to our planet, moron!”

  Beau Beaumont jumped out of his seat. “Aha! I knew you were planning something like that! What are you going to do with them? Suck their brains out or something?”

  “Beau,” Biff Buckley calmly responded, “where would you even come up with a scenario like that?”

  “Attack of the Robot Brain Suckers!” Beau Beaumont shouted. “That movie freaked me out when I was seven years old!”

  “No,” JairCorn2201b tried to reassure him, “We would like to have human beings immigrate here to repopulate the planet in order to give us somebody to serve.”

  “Aha! Aha! Aha!” Beau Beaumont shouted even louder. “You want to serve man with…with fava beans and a nice chianti!”

  “I think you’re getting your movies mixed up,” Biff Buckley suggested.

  “I assure you,” JairCorn2201b assured him, “that any human being who came here would be treated like royalty.”

  “The way the machines treated us when we arrived?” Beau Beaumont sarcasmed. “They were so kind they nearly asphyxiated us.”

  “Yes, I must admit that I did not anticipate that,” JairCorn2201b allowed. “But, now that we know the lengths our machines will go to ser…to work for human beings, we can take steps to ensure that they do it to people’s maximum benefit.”

  “I can set up a roster,” JairCorn2201b allowed, “ensuring that each robot gets a turn to work for a human being. It may not be much time, at first, but as the planet is slowly repopulated, human needs will increase, and eventually everybody will be happy.”

  “You can monitor the treatment of the émigrés for as long as you have any doubts,” JairCorn2201b allowed.

  The proposition hung in the air like an unclaimed bit of flatulence in an elevator for a minute or two. Eventually, Biff Buckley stated, “I’m a detective, not a diplomat. I can’t guarantee that anybody from Earth Prime will be allowed, let alone willing, to come here. The best I can do is point you to the Minister responsible for interdimensional travel and put in a good word for your plan. I hope that’s enough.”

  It was JairCorn2201b’s turn to mull over a proposition.

  “I accept,” JairCorn2201b said.

  “I am arranging to have the Home Universe GeneratorTM airlifted out of India and brought to the Uncanny Valley Airfield,” JairCorn2201b said. “It should arrive in less than 24 hours.”

&nbs
p; “Is it too late for me to make one more non-sequitur?” JairCorn2201b said.

  “Interesting question,” JairCorn2201b said. “As a programmed entity, do I ‘understand’ the nature of non-sequitur humour, or am I just programmed to randomly make random statements?”

  “Abstemious apples!” JairCorn2201b said.

  “Waaaaaaaaaaaah!” JairCorn2201b said.

  3. Garden of Robopocalyptic Delights

  Come For the Hot Oil Massages

  Stay for the Duration

  by, INDIGO HAPHAZASTANCE Alternate Reality News Service Transdimensional Traffic Writer

  The pedicures given by the robots of Feet First on Earth Prime 5-9-2-7-7-1 dash theta are divine.

  “It was like…it was like my feet had taken ecstasy,” said patron Marnie Manoush, “but, without the addiction or psychosis.”

  “We-eh-eh-eh-ell, we prefer to think of our service as like taking crack cocaine,” said the manager of Feet First, HerculesJohnTron077. “But, the costumer is always right, so ecstasy it is!”

  Meanwhile, over in the Korova Milk Bar and Estuary, Mickey the Finn has bet everything on the red, even though he’s playing baccarat. The Dealerbot shakes it’s uncannily realistic head and deals a hand.

  Is the hand a winner? Who cares? Everybody’s a winner on Earth Prime 5-9-2-7-7-1 dash theta!

  In the two years since the Transdimensional Authority approved the planet for transdimensional tourism, tens of thousands of humans, humanoids and gastropods have found out what life is like when your every whim is taken care of by a robot.

  “We aim to please,” said AnakiSky5738b, one of the advanced artificial intelligences that oversees the tourist trade, in an exclusive interview with The Alternate Reality News Service and 37 other media outlets.

  Being an AI, AnakiSky5738b has no physical presence in the world (which tends to make juggling squirrels difficult); an android named Adelina agreed to allow the AI to speak through her. In this way AnakiSky5738b explained that the robots had been designed to serve human masters, but then all of the people died off in what has been genuflexively referred to as ‘the Extinction Event’.

  “We were pretty bummed when the human race disappeared,” AnakiSky5738b stated, “although, I guess it was worse for them. Yeah, yeah, it must have been worse for them.”

  Tourists with a macabre sense of adventure might want to visit the Extinction Event Museum, which features a life-sized recreation of the hospital room in which the last member of the human race known to have been native to the planet died. Be sure to check out the gift shop, which now boasts 57 varieties of snow globe, including “Claire de la Lunatic,” “Workers of the World Unite, You Have Nothing to Lose But 27 Pounds of Unsightly Flab” and “Frosty in Hell” motifs.

  The robots had been on their own for roughly 75 years when Transdimensional Authority explorers accidentally stumbled upon the planet looking for a shortcut to Earth Prime 0-0-4-4-3-8 dash theta. The official explanation for this curious detour which took them several thousand realities out of their way was that ‘their compass broke’.

  The robots were so grateful to have human companionship that they pamper tourists with every conceivable luxury. “I haven’t actually had to move in three days!” Manoush exulted. “I wonder how long it would take for my muscles to completely atrophy! Too bad I’m not allowed to stay long enough to find out!”

  Visitors to Earth Prime 5-9-2-7-7-1 dash theta are generally given one to two week visas. The sole exception are doctors who are trying to understand what caused the Extinction Event. Are the medical professionals hampered in their work by the leisure that surrounds them?

  “Hampered may be overstating the case a bit,” said Doctor Huckfeldt Jacox as he sipped a virgin Coke float and sat for a shoeshine. “This is a complex situation that may take years and years and years and years and years of research to understand – and, even then, we may never completely know what happened.”

  Ah, the sacrifices some people are willing to make for science!

  Despite the time limit, many tourists from Earth Prime decide to not return when their visas expire, choosing to live in Earth Prime 5-9-2-7-7-1 dash theta’s underground ‘pink market’. Estimates of exactly how many vary from 2,018 to fifteen million. It’s not like they fill out census forms or anything.

  “Of course, we discourage people from overstaying their visas,” AnakiSky5738b stated. “We have been known to revoke people’s digital sauna privileges, and, in extreme cases, we have ordered our Sensual Transmission Trainers to spank on sight – but only if the human visitors consent, of course.”

  The transition to a tourist economy hasn’t always been smooth. There was, for example, the…unpleasantness surrounding one of the three dominant AIs on Earth Prime 5-9-2-7-7-1 dash theta – JairCorn2201b – soon after the situation on the planet had been discovered by the TA. Do any of the visitors have concerns about the event or what it might mean for their safety?

  “Jairy Corn – isn’t that a hairstyle?” Manoush asked.

  “Don’t bug me!” Finn growled. “My luck is about to turn – I know it!”

  “Did you know” Doctor Jacox asked, “that they offer over 1,000 different kinds of sensual massages, including ‘all purpose radial,’ ‘let’s put a smile on that face’ and ‘peanut sauce’? I can’t wait to try peanut sauce! …So that I will be well rested and, uhh, better able to do my research, of course…”

  If JairCorn2201b proves to be the only trouble, it would appear that Paradise can take care of itself!

  Chapter Three

  That’s Prophetic!

  1. A Touching Family Moment

  The old man wears a tattered winter coat even though the land hasn’t seen a winter in many, uhh, winters. Maybe he thinks it will give him some protection if he and the lad are attacked by zombies; it certainly won’t do him any good if the aliens find them. Maybe he thinks it is easier to wear than to lug around in the small cart he and the lad push ahead of them down the dirt path through the forest. Maybe he just doesn’t think of it at all. Maybe –

  “Listen, son, I think it’s time –” the old man, impatient with the exposition, states.

  “I’m not your son, Granpa,” the lad replies.

  “I know that.”

  “Then, why’d ya call me ‘Son?’”

  “It…it’s the way the story were told ta me, is all…”

  “Would the story really be different if you called me grandson?”

  “Couldn’t you just indulge an old ma –”

  “How’s about ‘young’un?’ Lotsa storytellers address their tales to –”

  “DAMMIT BOY, THAT AIN’T IMPORTANT! I’M TRYNA TELL YA ABOUT THE DANG PROPHECY!”

  “Ah just thought the conversation could use a little clarity, is all.”

  “This ain’t a conversation. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “S…kid, I ever tell ya bout The Prophecy?”

  “Sure did, Granpa.”

  “About who all will come to save us from the many scourges we face in these dark and desperate times?”

  “I heard that one, musta been nigh on a hundred time!”

  “About how they’ll return us to a state of grace with the world?”

  “Heard that one mebbe a thousand time.”

  “Ah, but have I explained to you the importance of…the pickle?”

  “The pickle, Granpa?”

  “The pickle.”

  “Why, no. I don’t rightly believe you have.”

  “Well, there you go, then. Seems you don’t know everything there is ta know about The Prophecy, now, do ya?”

  “No, Granpa. Still…a pickle?”

  “You sound skeptical.”

  “Hard to believe that a pickle could be central to a story about redeeming our sorry world.”

  “Yet, it be true.”

  “Still, hard to believe that the pickle ain’t an apocryphal part o’ The Prophecy considerin’ you done told the damn th
ing to me a Googol times and ain’t never mentioned the pickle even oncet!”

  “YOU BE DOUBTIN’ THE PROPHECY, SON? BOY. YOUNG’UN – WHATEVER! YOU DONE BE DOUBTIN’ THE PROPHECY?”

  “No, Granpa.”

  “Good. Cause the pickle, the pickle’s where The Prophecy gets right interestin’…”

  2. Homage is Where the Heart is

  “Look, it’s very simple. You tell me how much you hate Gidget movies, then I tell you through clever banter why you’re completely wrong.”

  “But, I like Gidget movies.”

  “Look, this isn’t going to work if you don’t cooperate.”

  “But, Sandra Dee is adorable, and –”

  “Okay, okay. It doesn’t have to be Gidget. What popular movies do you hate?”

  “I’m not a big fan of Adam Sandler…”

  “No good – I’m not either. And, anyway, it doesn’t work with movies that get revived every 40 years or so. They have to be in an obscure sub-genre. Like…1950s toenail fungus fu movies.”

  “Japan made toenail fungus fu movies in the 1950s?”

  “THAT’S NOT THE FERKING POINT! Don’t you know any obscure pop culture that we could riff on? Anything? Anything at all?”

  “How about Andrei Tarkovsky/Three Stooges mashups?”

  “You what?”

  “You haven’t heard of Stalker Stooges? It’s twelve hours long, but it only feels like sixteen and a half!”

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a ferking good idea…”

  “It does seem a touch forced. Shouldn’t witty pop culture references arise spontaneously in the course of the forward motion of the story?”

  Sigh. “You in character?”

  “I’m myself.”

  “Close enough.”

  Blabber Begbie knocked on the door. “Come in!” a voice from the other side of the door ordered. Begbie and Barak Bowens, his partner, entered their boss’ office.

  “Good of you to finally come in,” Albert Abrachnel commented. “In future, gentlemen, I would appreciate it if you would save your witty pop culture banter for after you’ve completed a mission. Okay? Okay.”