Benson's World

by Rath Dalton

  * * *

  After an interminably long period, the bell rang and kids shuffled out of the room, moving to their next class. Benson moved too but his next class wasn’t on his mind. He followed the new kid, staying close to keep him from disappearing again. He caught up in the hallway.

  “Hey, kid. What’s the deal?”

  “There is a deal?”

  “Yeah, there’s a deal. That stupid smile – you messing with me? Making me look like an ass? What’s the trick?”

  “I am not messing with you. There is no trick. It is easier to observe you if the others don’t notice me. I shut them off.”

  Benson’s mind stumbled over itself.

  “Shut them . . ?”

  “It’s like darkening part of a room except the room is inside their heads. They don’t see me.”

  “Yeah – sure. Nut case. I can see you just fine.”

  “Oh, I need you to see me, Benson Beutweiler. I have been looking for you for some time.”

  Yeah? Why are you looking for me? I don’t even know you.”

  “But I know you,” the odd boy said. “I am ‘The One Who Requests’ from subcategory T42, sector EEE388, landmass E, subcategory 654C.”

  “You are messed up. No one would call you that.”

  “They do, but you can call me something else if it makes you more comfortable.”

  “Yeah, I will – you’ve got a hamburger head. From now on you’re Ham.”

  “Very well; I am Ham.”

  “Now what are you doing here, Ham-head? And why are you watching me?”

  “I have come to bestow an honor upon you. I am here to invite you to subcategory T42.”

  “You talk like a dork, ‘bestow an honor upon you’,” Benson mimicked. “Why would I want to go to your crappy Tee whatever? Is it a place full of dorks like you?”

  “Yes, our people are numerous. We have great technology and intricate social systems but even so, we needed you to give us purpose.”

  “You needed me?”

  “Yes you, and your whole race.” Ham cast about for words. “You have reality shows in your world – we have you. We watch you.”

  “You watch me? That’s crazy.”

  “We watch you. It’s not so crazy, it’s our life. At first it was only our scientists, just a small group but your people are so creative, so spontaneous and unpredictable. Soon everyone wanted to observe. Everyone wanted to experience the thrill and exhilaration. We began to place bets, to trade merchandise based on your lives. Industries sprang up, the economy shifted, it grew.

  “Whoa – let me get this straight; you people watch us? And like - trade action dolls and stuff? Your whole planet?”

  “Not just T42, our population is huge. There are billions of planets and each one is dedicated to observing a different person on earth. Each day we thrill to your decisions, your actions; will you get up when the alarm goes off or will you sleep in? Will you study for the quiz or play Assassin’s Creed until midnight? Will you floss before bed or sleep with wild abandon while plaque grows in your oral cavity? It is thrilling to us. We place bets, we cheer, we cry. Fortunes swing on your decisions. We manufacture and sell, buy mementos and replicas of items in your life. We walk like you, talk like you, write plays about you.”

  “Let me get this straight – you’ve got a planet that’s all about me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Planet Benson?”

  “Essentially yes, Planet Benson. That is a good name.”

  “And everyone there worships me?”

  “Everyone lives and breathes your daily life, your past, your future. You are the most important thing to the planet.”

  “That is so awesome. I love this. Can I see it?”

  “You want to go! I am so glad. We had hoped for as much.”

  “Hell yeah, I want to go.”

  “Benson Beutweiler, this is a wonderful day. We can go immediately. Follow me and I will take you.”

  “You’d better not be hosing me or I will wreck you.”

  “I am not hosing you.”

  The other kids had filtered into their classes by now and the halls were empty. The class bell rang as Benson and Ham began to walk. Their footsteps echoed.

  “Hey,” Benson hissed, “the teachers will see us. We’re gonna get busted.” He looked into an open doorway as they passed where a teacher was speaking to her class.

  “We will not get busted,” Ham said. “I have turned down the lights for all of them. We are in the dark.”

  “All of them - cool,” said Benson. He watched a classroom as they walked by. No one looked back. No one pointed to say ‘Hey, Benson’s in the hallway again.’

  “This is so awesome!” He stopped outside the doorway and capered like a monkey. “Mrs. Thomson has a hairy butt,” he called, chattering and squawking.

  Ham pulled at him.

  “Do not do that,” he said. “You are not invisible. They will see if you draw attention.”

  Sure enough, the teacher stepped to the door and looked out. Benson held his breath as she peered up and down the hallway, confused, unseeing, then closed the door.

  “That was double cool,” he said. Then, fueled by the thrill, “How are we getting to Tee whatever, Ham? This really better not be a sack of crap.”

  “It is not a sack of crap, Benson. You will see.”

  They walked up the stairs and came to the roof door.

  “That’s locked,” Benson said as Ham reached for the knob, “I’ve tried it.” But when the odd looking boy touched it, there were a series of clicks and the knob turned smoothly under his hand.

  “How do you do this stuff?” Benson asked with wonder.

  “You have devices that you use; cell phones, calculators, internet. Ours have been entwined with our genetics. They are part of us.”

  “Get out. You are so messed up.”

  “Yes, we get way out.”

  They stepped out onto the roof. It was a flat expanse of tar and gravel with ventilators sprouting up at odd locations. The only other thing here was a forgotten Frisbee, lost to the roof in a misthrow by some student.

  “What the heck, Ham? I don’t see a ship.”

  “We are not taking a ship. We are trans-placing.”

  “Trans-my-ass. I want to see a spaceship. I signed up for a ship. Show me a ship.”

  “There is no ship I am aware of that is capable of making the journey. The distance and the physical perils, make it impossible. This is much quicker.”

  He produced a vial from his pocket, popped it open and poured the contents in the air. It made a cloud of grey dust. The cloud moved by itself, swirling and growing, enveloping them.

  “What is that?” Benson asked, covering his mouth.

  “Entangled half-pairs. We will swap a small space on your planet with a small space on T42. You and I will be inside that space. Your scientists would call it quantum mechanics.”

  “I’d call it bat-shit crazy voodoo.”

  Benson thought about what it would be like to be on a planet that orbited around him. A planet where everyone’s first thought was about Benson and what he would do next. Maybe the people there would make him king. Maybe he would never come home. Or maybe he would wait until he was grown up and return as the Great Intergalactic Emperor Benson. Then everyone here would wish they had been nicer to him. He laughed to himself. He thought he might miss beating on Kirby but there would be plenty of fun on Planet Benson.

  “In another moment, we will swap locations,” Ham said. “Are you ready?”

  “I’m ready.” Benson imagined basking in the adoration of millions.

  The grey smoke seethed around them.

  Ham called out, “We are swapping – now.”

  The transfer was shocking in its triviality, like a feather brushing across his brain. The surroundings changed and he was in a new place. Benson found himself standi
ng on a high stage surrounded by a cheering crowd of thousands, no, tens of thousands with Ham beside him. The cheers almost drown him out as he shouted to Ham “Is that for me?”

  “Oh yes, Benson, that is for you.”

  Benson closed his eyes and raised his arms, soaking in the moment. He doubted he would ever get tired of this. These people knew how important he was. He listened closer, hoping to hear some specific praise but it was odd. Now that he listened, the cheers sounded more like jeers. These people sounded - angry. He opened his eyes and looked at some of the faces thinking that cheers on a weird planet might sound different. He assumed he would see their smiles and their friendly waves but the people he saw not only sounded angry, they looked angry. Almost dangerous. Pieces of trash flew up on the stage and a bottle-like thing whizzed past him. Benson began to get scared.

  “Ham, I don’t get it,” he shouted, his voice wavering with fear. “I thought everyone loved me on planet Benson.”

  “Oh, they do. They love you very much, but I never said we were going to planet Benson. This is planet Kirby. They asked me to bring you here. You are a very big deal on planet Kirby.”

  A Note From The Author

  I need to thank the NSA for inspiring this story with their citizen monitoring programs. Discussions with friends revealed the idea that the NSA can’t possibly watch everyone all of the time. It made me wonder; who could? And why would they want to? Why, the folks from the universe of T42, of course.

  The next question was who to send on this trip? It seemed natural for a kid to go; a visit to a planet where it is all about you would be more exciting than a trip to Candyland. When Benson auditioned for the part, he was such a bad egg I knew there had to be a come-upance and thus the twist.

  If you liked the story, you might try leaving a review where you downloaded the story. Positive reviews help independent authors greatly. If you didn’t like the story, feel free to email me at rathdalton@gmail.com and let me know where I went wrong. It’s always good to get feedback. Thanks for being a reader.

  Rath