The Traveler's Companion

by Chater, Christopher John

  “I don’t know how it works, but I don’t think you can blame yourself,” the man said.

  “Yes I can. I’m human and human beings have no business playing God. It’s my fault. In my reality, I’d be thrown in jail or sentenced to death for this.”

  “Punished for creating life?”

  “For causing suffering. Crimes against humanity, against nature.”

  “But we’ve been given a chance to experience life, to help one another, to become more than just something that occupies space for a fleeting moment. Have you seen the news? Heroes are being made every second.”

  The man excitedly went over to the television and turned it on. The news was on every station. Iverson sat on the end of the bed and watched through a veil of tears as they reported the heroic acts of his creations. These mayflies were doing more good in their fleeting lives than Iverson had done in twenty-five years at the CIA. He had never felt this way about Angela. He felt proud.

  “Thank you,” the man said, patting Iverson on the back.

  The news reported that, in one hour, the mayor was going to issue a statement. Iverson knew what he had to do next.

  * * * * *

  Iverson ascended the marbled steps to the second floor of city hall, passed under an archway, and arrived at the offices of the mayor. There was a lobby desk and behind it was Emily. She was on the phone. Behind her were a dozen of the mayor’s staff, frantically fielding phone calls.

  Iverson knew he could teleport into the mayor’s office, but he didn’t want to alarm him. It was best to ease him into the truth.

  “Hello, Emily,” Iverson said.

  She smiled at him, but held up a finger to signal she was on the phone.

  “Yes, the mayor will be issuing a citywide state of emergency. A formal statement will be released to the press within the hour.” She hung up the phone with a sigh, and gave Iverson her attention though many other lines on her phone were blinking.

  “Hello,” she said, exhausted. “This has been a nightmare day.”

  “Emily. I need to the see the mayor.”

  “That’s impossible. If you haven’t noticed, we have a city in crisis.”

  “I know. I’m here to help. Tell the mayor I’m from the CIA and I have information about what’s going on.”

  She stood staring at him blankly, assessing him, and then she said, “Come tell him yourself.”

  She led him down a hall and to an opened office door with a plaque on it that read: The Mayor of San Francisco.

  Emily knocked once and went inside. The mayor was young, probably early forties, and attractive in a slick kind of way. Though he wasn’t smiling, Iverson imagined he had a winning smile. He was currently sitting behind a desk, engrossed in a thick legal book.

  “Mister Mayor. This is Ryan Iverson. He says he’s from the CIA.”

  “CIA,” the mayor said, looking up from the book. “What can the CIA do about a city that’s disappearing?”

  “I’ve come to help,” Iverson said.

  “Can I get you anything, Mister Iverson? Coffee?” Emily asked.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Iverson said.

  Emily left, shutting the door behind her.

  “Mister Mayor, I’m Deputy Director Ryan Iverson of the Directorate of Science and Technology at the CIA. I’m here to help. First, let me tell you what’s going on, and from there we can go about the best way of fixing the situation.”

  The mayor shut the book in front of him and sat back in his chair. “I’m trying to follow protocol, but it’s not working. I’m at a loss.”

  “Yes, I can imagine that would be frustrating for you. In this situation . . . in a situation like this, you would contact the governor of California. The governor would then contact the President of the United States and request federal assistance.”

  “I can’t get ahold of the governor.” He shrugged angrily. “What’s going on?”

  “You can’t get ahold of the governor because he doesn’t exist, at least not in this reality.”

  “What are you talking about? Who are you? Let me see some identification.”

  “I don’t have my identification. I was pickpocketed the other night. I can assure you that I am who I say I am and what I’m telling you is true. I just need a minute to prove it.

  “First off, this city isn’t what it appears to be. The buildings, the streets, the people—everything you see is the result of a thought experiment. It’s merely a facsimile of the real San Francisco. Imagine you were given a machine that could replicate life; it could reproduce the known universe. You used this machine to create a city, a place that looked and felt just like the real thing, it even contained all of the same natural elements of the real thing, but it was just a copy, like a picture.”

  “Copy? Are you trying to tell me that none of this is real? Are you insane?”

  Iverson was doing the best he could, but he had to admit, were he in the mayor’s place, he would have reacted the same way. The whole thing sounded ridiculous.

  “If I were in your shoes, I suppose I’d want proof.”

  “Quickly, my friend. I don’t have the time or energy for any of this. If you are who you say you are, and the government has built some type of super weapon that can dissolve buildings, will you please tell them to stop? For the sake of mankind, I hope it’s not true.”

  “It’s not a weapon, exactly. It’s a place where neurological energy is converted into matter.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means that I created everything here, including you.”

  The mayor looked more annoyed than shocked. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “Allow me to demonstrate,” Iverson said.

  “I’m calling for the guard.” The mayor reached for the phone.

  “Don’t use that phone.”

  As the mayor held the receiver to his ear, Iverson made the phone vanish.

  The mayor jumped to his feet and backed away from the table. “What the hell?!”

  “Sit down, Mister Mayor. Stay calm. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “What the hell’s going on? Who are you?”

  “Do you have a name?” Iverson asked him. He had hoped to get through this without panicking the mayor, but that had been wishful thinking.

  “Of course! My name’s. . . .”

  “Can’t remember, can you?”

  “I can’t remember.” The mayor sat down.

  “You don’t have a name, because, for some reason, I didn’t give you one. I was able to create human beings, people with personalities and intelligence, but who, for some reason, didn’t get histories. Experience is impossible to replicate, maybe because it’s unquantifiable, I don’t know. You are, as far as I can tell, a clone; a copy of a human being, minus their life experience.”

  “This was you? You made this happen?”

  “Yes,” Iverson said.

  “I’ve been getting reports from all over the city. People don’t know who they are.” He continued to look for the phone, a part of him believing he had been tricked somehow.

  “In quantum theory it’s believed that matter is determined, in part, by the observer. The simple truth is that no one knows what reality is exactly or what consciousness’s role is in it. Where do we come from and where do we go after we die? No one knows.”

  The mayor looked lost and Iverson hoped to simplify things for him. “Are you like me? No, you’re not. You only live a few days and you aren’t able to manifest things like I can. You lack my god-like power. But, you are real.”

  The mayor sat down and stared at Iverson, wondering what to make of him. “I need more proof,” he said. “None of this makes sense.”

  Iverson stood and approached the mayor. “Give me your hand.”

  Reluctantly, the mayor extended a hand. Iverson took it, shut his eyes, and imagined the Waldo Tunnels.

  He and the mayor were now standing at the entrance of the Waldo Tunnels. To Iverson’s su
rprise, there was a traffic jam. Commuters trying to leave the city had parked their cars on the highway, gotten out, and were camping on the side of the road. Were they afraid of what was on the other side of the tunnel—the dark fate that awaited them? Traffic coming into the city was flowing steadily, and people were gathered on that side to marvel at cars appearing from nowhere.

  “This is unbelievable,” the mayor said. “How did we get here?”

  A man speaking intensely with a group noticed the mayor and quickly ran over to him.

  “Mister Mayor,” the man said. “Are you aware of what’s going on here? Have you seen what’s at the end of the tunnel?”

  The mayor shook his head.

  “Come with me,” the man commanded.

  The mayor followed him. Iverson went with them, but trailed a few feet behind them.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” the man told the mayor. “There’s nothing on the other side. Just blackness. Look.”

  “Blackness?” the mayor asked, slowly going further into the tunnel.

  “Nothingness!” the man shouted, his voice echoing inside the tunnel.

  From Iverson’s perspective, they both appeared to vanish into the darkness. When they reemerged, the man with the mayor was livid. “There should be something on the other side of this tunnel! Earlier, I saw a man disappear right in front of me. There’s only one explanation for that! This isn’t real! We aren’t real, God damn it!”

  “Could you keep your voice down?” the mayor asked. “You’re going to start a panic.”

  “It’s a little late for that, Mister Mayor! You should see what’s going on with your constituency. People have built refugee camps on the beaches. Hundreds of families are displaced. They’re afraid to go home. They’re afraid everything is going to dissolve. They don’t know what’s happening, but I do. I know the truth. None of this is real!”

  The man was attracting unwanted attention, so Iverson took the mayor by the arm and escorted him into the darkness. From there, Iverson teleported them back to city hall.

  The mayor fell into his desk chair and sat in shock. “He was right, wasn’t he? None of this is real.”

  “It’s a copy of my reality. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re as real as I am,” Iverson said.

  “Why did you come here? What do you want from me?”

  “I have two options for you. I can start over. Everything will vanish and be replaced with something new. Eventually, that will dissolve, as well. I’m unable to make things last more than a few days without maintenance. If I start over, you’re existence will be gone. Everyone here will be erased. For lack of a better term, it will be genocide.”

  “You said we’re just the result of a thought experiment. Do our lives even matter?”

  For the moment, Iverson ignored the question and said, “Your second option is to allow me to fix as many people as I can and let things play out.”

  The mayor sighed. “How should I know? It’s your damn thought experiment.”

  “Everyone is going to vanish eventually; I can only prolong the inevitable. You should know that, before you were created, it was believed that people created here were not actual life forces. I’ve come to learn that you are sentient beings. Your lives matter.”

  “But our fleeting existence will be filled with suffering,” the mayor said.

  “I’ve observed more than just suffering. Heroes have been created here. That’s why I came to you. When you make a statement to the press. . . .” Iverson suddenly felt overwhelmed by emotion and had to stop talking for a moment.

  “Go on,” the mayor said, filling in the silence.

  “I want you to tell them something for me. I want you to tell them that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I want you to ask them for forgiveness.” Iverson could barely contain the emotion and was on the verge of tears.

  “You want forgiveness? That’s why you came here? What would you do if your creator came to you, broken and crying, asking for your forgiveness? He says your life was a big mistake, but that he was really sorry. What would your response be?”

  “I would be disappointed to say the least. But I didn’t say your lives were a mistake. I said I didn’t plan on things going the way they did. I didn’t mean for anyone to suffer. I’m no God. I’m just a man.”

  “You’re a broken man. I actually feel sorry for you. This thought experiment is making you insane.” The mayor stood and went to sit on the desk in front of Iverson.

  Iverson realized he was slouching under the weight of the emotion and shame, but he didn’t have the energy to sit up straight.

  “If you’re leaving it up to me, I can’t allow you to wipe out our lives. We should be allowed to exist, however traumatic or however fleeting it may be.”

  “That’s very honorable. I can help.”

  “The Transamerica Building. The top floor is gone. Can you fix it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. As far as the forgiveness part is concerned, I don’t think the people of San Francisco are ready for that just yet. I think we should keep your existence quiet. An in-your-face God will just scare them. You’ll work in the background. We’ll just focus on fixing things for now.”

  “Then please assure them that everything will be okay. Tell them not to worry. Make something up if you have to. Tell them the memory loss and spontaneous dissolving are being caused by a virulent strain of flu, but your scientists are currently close to a cure.”

  “Sure. But you’re going to have to make me look good. By the time I issue the statement, everything has to magically go back to normal. If it does, I’ll tell them to thank their creator. We both win. Sound good to you?”

  “Sounds fine,” Iverson said.

  “First things first. I’m going to need my phone back.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Iverson had teleported back to the Rolls Royce, and he was now driving slowly up California Street, barely concentrating on the road. After several hours, he had gotten the city under control. The urgency was no longer necessary, but he was mentally still back with those people, the victims, the heroes, the martyrs, the criminals, whatever or whoever they were. He would be ashamed to admit to anyone but himself how much of an effect they had on him.

  Everything in the city looked fine, so he headed back to Lombard Street. When he got inside the house, he found Beth watching TV in the living room. A newscaster was covering the mayor’s speech and was commenting on the impact it had on a traumatized city. As soon as Beth saw him, she ran into his arms.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Where’s Angela?”

  “She’s in the office.”

  “Mister Go never came and got her? He never called?”

  “Not that I know of. What does that matter, now? We were worried about you. We saw what’s going on in the city on the news. It’s horrible.”

  “I got it under control.”

  “Tell me what happened. Did you try to help them?”

  Iverson went over to the couch and sat down. He manifested himself vodka on the rocks and took a generous drink.

  Beth went to sit next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “It must have been a terrible experience for you. You must feel responsible.”

  Iverson sighed defensively, but he felt she had hit the nail on the head.

  “What are you going to do? You can’t maintain the city forever.”

  “I just need to keep the city corporeal long enough for them to expire. They shouldn’t last more than a day or two.”

  “I’ve been around for three days now, Ryan. How do you know we won’t last forever?”

  “I’ve seen people vanish. For some reason, some last longer than others.”

  “Ryan. Have you considered what I said earlier? Why don’t you love me? Pour your emotions into us and I’m sure you could get things to last for decades. We could be happy living her
e.”

  “This place is an abomination. If people come here, unimaginable horrors will take place. Look at what happened today. Sad part is that Go doesn’t even think the ephemera are sentient beings. He thinks they’re puppets from his mind. Do puppets cry when their mothers die? For fuck’s sake, they’re real people!”

  “I’m so glad to hear you say that. You’ve come so far, Ryan. Don’t you see how you’ve grown since you’ve been here? You care for these people. You obviously care for me; otherwise I wouldn’t have lasted as long as I have.”

  “You may be real, but you’re not my wife.”

  “We’re your children, Ryan.”

  “Give me a break!”

  “You needed this day. I’m sorry you had it, but you needed it. You were a lonely man before you came here. You created a philosophy—a religion out of death because you were dead inside. You treated a robot like it had feelings and people like they were robots. You needed a kick in the ass. Today was a wakeup call for you.”

  “Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think of me.”

  He drank the rest of the vodka, stood up, and went toward the bedroom. He didn’t wait around to see if she was going to follow him.

  * * * * *

  Iverson lay on the bed having waking nightmares. He longed for the solace of sleep, anything to get away from this place. But there was no escape. Gods didn’t sleep. After an hour, he got up and went to look out the window. It was hard to take his eyes off that skyline for any length of time. For now, everything looked okay. But just to be sure, he pictured a perfect San Francisco in his mind and restored the city.

  He wandered into the living room like a zombie and found Mr. Go sitting in the club chair. Angela and Beth were on the couch. He chose to sit at the dining room table, his back to them.

  “Doctor Iverson. How are you?” Go asked.

  Iverson grunted groggily.

  “I heard you had quite a day,” Go said.

  “Have you come to a new understanding of ephemera, Doctor Iverson?” Angela asked. “Are they real people?”

  “I can’t get over how your daughter calls you ‘Doctor’. Hilarious,” Go said.