by Scott Meyer
“I know,” Jeff said. “I knew the dangers. I took precautions. I picked the most harmless animal I could think of.”
Tyler said, “No animal is harmless to an animal that’s smaller than it.”
Phillip asked, “What animal did you use, Jeff?”
“Sheep,” Jeff said. “What’s more harmless than sheep? They run from dogs, but aside from that all they do is stand around, eating grass and waiting to be fleeced.”
Tyler said, “Jeff, I’m from Montana. I know a thing or two about sheep, and I can tell you that you never, ever turn your back on a ram. They’re very aggressive.”
Jeff shrugged. “Yeah, but sheep are docile.”
“But I’m telling you, rams aren’t. If rams were docile, Dodge wouldn’t have named a truck after them.”
“So what?” Jeff asked, raising his voice. “That has nothing to do with anything. I told you, I used sheep, not rams.”
After a long silence, Roy said, “Kid, you know how a male cow is called a bull?”
“Yeah.”
“And a male pig is called a boar?”
“I didn’t know that, but I believe you.”
“Do you know what a male sheep is called?”
Jeff cringed and thought for a long time, his cringe growing more intense as time passed. Finally, in a weak, hopeful voice, he said, “A heep?”
Tyler said, “A ram. A male sheep is called a ram. In a lot of breeds they have curved horns, and in all species they have a bad attitude.”
Jeff nodded. “Yeah, okay. I see. Yes. I see the problem. Well, I gotta say, this is, by far, the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.”
Phillip nodded. “It is, at least, the best example I’ve ever seen of someone meddling with things that are beyond his comprehension.”
“It’s like three examples of that at once,” Martin said. “It’s the Neapolitan ice cream of mistakes. You didn’t know enough about sheep, you didn’t know how sheep behavior would translate into giant flying lizards, and you didn’t know for sure what all the variables you used really controlled. We’re lucky that only a few extra dragons got spawned.”
“That’s the thing,” Brit said. “We don’t know that only a few did. There could be dragons all over the world. They could even be reproducing.”
“No,” Jeff said. “I don’t think they’re reproducing.”
Phillip asked, “What makes you say that?”
“They don’t have genitals.”
“Okay,” Brit said. “I’ll give that one to you. They probably aren’t reproducing.”
Gary said, “But they’ll definitely be angry. I know I would be.”
“So, I know the answer to this is probably no,” Martin said, “but can’t we just go into the file and delete them?”
“We’d have to figure out how to identify them from just their code and find all of their entries in the file. It’d be like looking for moving needles in a haystack where the pieces of hay are also moving. And if we make a mistake we could wipe all sheep from the face of the earth,” Roy said.
Martin said, “Okay, also figuring this’ll be a no, but could we just leave them be? They can’t actually hurt anyone.”
“No, but we saw today that people will hurt each other trying to protect themselves from the dragons,” Brit added. “And we don’t know what all the file is doing with them. Genitalia or no, new ones might be appearing, and if they are, even if they’re only living a normal sheep’s lifespan, with no natural predators, they’ll just keep appearing until they eventually block out the sun.”
“Nuclear winter,” Phillip said, “but with dragons instead of ash.”
Gary said, “At least we have the satisfaction of knowing that the end of the world will look like the cover of a Megadeth album.”
“And that’s the optimistic outcome,” Gwen said. “It assumes the dragons won’t attack people.”
“They have no weapons,” Jeff said. “Their flames and talons don’t burn or break the skin.”
Gary said, “And even without claws and fire, one could bite someone.”
Jeff shook his head. “No, the teeth don’t work. They’re just like the claws.”
“So they could gum someone,” Gary said. “That sounds better, but not much better.”
Phillip sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing sheep are herbivores.”
Again, Jeff turned to Tyler. “They are, right?”
Tyler said, “Yes, they are herbivores. In the case of rams, aggressive, violent, herbivores.”
“That’s good news.”
“Yes,” Phillip said. “The fact that the dragons aren’t quite as dangerous as they could be does, in this situation, constitute good news, which might be the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Maybe we should spread the news,” Gary said. “Tell everyone to keep their distance, but that the dragons aren’t as dangerous as they look.”
Tyler stroked his chin. “Hmm. Attention citizens, the dragons are not as deadly as they seem. There is only some cause for alarm. No, I think we’d be better off letting people think they’re death with wings. At least they’ll stay out of the way.”
“Right.” Roy said, “The dragons have to go, and the sooner the better. We might be able to automate a way to track them down, but we’re going to have to destroy them manually, one at a time, and none of our current powers will do it.”
Phillip said, “There is an option we haven’t discussed, but none of you wants to hear it.”
Several of the wizards groaned, knowing what Phillip intended to say, but the groans were cut short by the surprising sight of a second copy of Martin appearing directly in front of Phillip.
Second Martin waved his arms, and in a mock-spooky voice said, “Phillip, I have come from the future with a dire warning. Do not bring up the idea of Jeff going back in time to warn himself not to make sheep-dragons.” Second Martin dropped the theatrics for a moment and said, “Jeff, honestly, just saying that out loud sounds like a terrible idea. What were you thinking?”
Jeff shrugged. Second Martin shook his head sadly at First Martin, who shrugged at Second Martin, who then turned back to Phillip and resumed his spooky act. “Do not suggest that Jeff go back and warn himself, Phillip. It will only start an argument you cannot win, as it has every other time you’ve suggested it. Heed my warning Phillip, while there’s still time!”
Second Martin disappeared.
“Well, Phillip,” Martin asked, “Will you heed that wise man’s warning?”
Phillip said, “Mock all you want, but I don’t see why it isn’t worth a try.”
“That’s why!” Martin said. “You right now are why! It never works, Phillip! Any time any of us has tried to go back in time and warn ourselves to avoid doing something it hasn’t worked. Gary, remember that time you tried to warn yourself not to time travel to 1962 and hit on Marilyn Monroe?”
“Yes.”
“Did you listen to yourself, Gary?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“No, he didn’t, Phillip. Gary, what did you say to your future self when he warned you?”
“That I would be careful, and to mind his own business, and not to ruin my fun.”
“And did you go hit on Marilyn?”
Phillip said, “Martin, we all know all of this.”
“Yes,” Martin admitted, “but I like to hear the story. Gary, did you hit on Marilyn Monroe?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Three times.”
“And how’d that work out for you, Gary?”
“I got beaten up.”
“All three times?”
“Yeah. Once by the Mafia, once by the Secret Service, and once by Joe DiMaggio.�
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“And that’s why we don’t go back in time to warn ourselves not to do things, Phillip. Because, of all the times we’ve tried, the best result any of us has achieved was getting beaten senseless by Joe DiMaggio. At least that was a good story.”
“It was at a party,” Gary said. “Dean Martin told him to kick me harder.”
“We know,” Martin said. “Several of us went to watch. Warning ourselves before a mistake just makes us feel resentful before the mistake, and feel stupid after it. The closest thing we’ve had to success has been with going back right after something has happened and preventing the damage. That’s gotten us some limited success.”
“If you call saving my life a limited success,” Jeff said.
Tyler muttered, “Right now, we might.”
Phillip said, “Just because something hasn’t worked before doesn’t mean it can’t work now.”
Martin said, “Let’s see. I’ll go back in time and warn you not to bring this topic up.” Martin disappeared for less than a second, then reappeared.
“Are we still having a pointless argument?” Martin asked.
Phillip said, “Yes. And it proves nothing.” Phillip turned to Brit and said, “Come on, help me out here. You have regular contact with a future version of yourself. Sometimes you listen to her. You’re walking proof of my point.”
Brit the Younger shook her head. “But a lot of the time I don’t listen to her, dear. And when I do, she says that she remembers me listening to her, so she’s walking proof of Martin’s point. I’m afraid we cancel each other out.”
“Well, maybe it hasn’t worked yet because we almost never try it,” Phillip said.
“We almost never try it because it never works,” Martin countered.
Phillip said, “Maybe it does work, and we just don’t know it. Maybe we only remember the times it failed, because when it succeeds it changes the timeline.”
Roy said, “You’re saying that reality changes, and the versions of us that have the problem just cease to be?”
“Yeah,” Phillip said. “Maybe.”
Roy said, “Screw that.”
“Yes,” Gwen said. “I’d like to keep existing, thank you very much.”
“You would,” Phillip said. “You’d still exist. It’d just be a different you. Or, what if reality forks? We stay in the timeline with the problem, but our warning helps another version of us avoid the whole mess?”
Tyler said, “I say let theoretical other versions of us fend for themselves. We’ve got our own problems, and I don’t remember them ever showing up with any helpful hints for us.”
Brit put a calming hand on Phillip’s arm and said, “No, Phillip, I think the consensus is that we need to figure out a way to find the dragons and delete them, then jump to the moment right after we ran them out of town, and take them out before anyone else gets hurt.”
Phillip sighed. “Okay. I get it. On to business, then. Anybody have any ideas?”
Jeff said, “I’ll come up with something.”
“And I’ll help,” Roy said.
“We all will,” Phillip added.
“No,” Jeff said. “I caused this problem. I should be the one to fix it.”
“You will,” Roy said. “With our help.”
Jeff said, “Look, guys, this is my mess.”
Martin said, “But you can share. You brought enough mess for everybody.”
11.
“People of Leadchurch, thank you for coming out for this emergency town meeting. I know that we usually hold these meetings in the church, not the tavern. We chose to hold it here at the Rotted Stump because the church is full of the wounded, and given what we all went through this morning, we thought everyone would appreciate gathering someplace where they could get a stiff drink.”
The man’s name was Gibbons. He was one of the local merchants, a short man, but he had a larger man’s voice, bearing, and belly.
“Friends, as we all know, there has been an attack on our village. Many people, including the entire militia, were injured in the act of defending our property, and now they lay, asleep and helpless in the church, leaving us, and our property, undefended. We’re here to figure out what went wrong.”
After a long pause, someone said, “Dragons attacked us.”
“Yes,” Gibbons said, “yes, that’s right. Dragons attacked us. But what I’m getting at is, why? Why did dragons attack us? We need to figure out what we did to draw the dragons down on us so we can keep them from coming back because, friends, I think if we learned anything today, it is that we are not prepared to fight dragons. Everyone who tried is over in the church. Even the wizards couldn’t help us much.”
A horrific sound flooded the inn. Everyone who heard it cringed involuntarily. All conversation, all interactions, all rational thought came to a halt while every adult in earshot received an urgent message from their own central nervous system, a message that said, Find the source of that noise and make it stop. Humans are genetically tuned to abhor the sound, a sound originally meant to alert parents that their offspring were in danger, but which later got repurposed as a weapon by those offspring.
It was the shriek of an angry girl.
Everyone turned and faced Honor, and mostly saw the inside of her mouth as she persisted in screaming at the top of her lungs. She was sitting on the corner of a fully loaded bench, but all of the adults sharing the bench with her leaned away from the source of the spine-melting noise, giving her more room to flail her arms. The only one in the tavern who didn’t seem bothered by the noise was Runt, who sat on the floor next to her, looking up with an air of mild curiosity.
After several seconds, Honor’s angry shriek gave way to a raging torrent of words. “The wizards weren’t helping us. How can you think the wizards were helping us? The wizards were helping the dragons!”
The townsfolk all looked at each other warily. None of the parents in the group had brought their children, but Honor had no adult to tell her she couldn’t come, and it would be centuries before liquor laws would be invented. She was the only child in attendance and, as such, had far more control of the situation than she understood.
Gibbons said, “Now, now, dearie, that just doesn’t make sense.”
Like pretty much every other human being capable of understanding speech, Honor hated being told now, now, and despised being called dearie. Being told that what she knew to be true made no sense did not help.
“I know what I know, and I know what I saw,” Honor said. “I saw the dragons attacking the town, and I saw the wizards protecting them while they did it. Not making sense to you doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
There were a few titters from the group. Like a stream of urine, an aggressive child can be amusing when it’s aimed at someone else. Gibbons felt himself losing control of the room and asked, “Little girl, where are your parents?”
The laughter stopped. A man frowned, then stood and spoke quietly into Gibbons’s ear.
Gibbons listened, bit his lip, looked at Honor, and said, “I’m very sorry. Honor, isn’t it?” As much as she’d hated being called dearie, she hated being called by her name even more when the person speaking had a note of pity in his voice.
“I haven’t seen you in quite a while,” Gibbons said. “You’ve certainly grown.”
“How would you know?” Honor asked. “I’m sitting down. In this crowd, you can only see my head.”
Gibbons said, “And your head has grown,” then paused and turned red while the crowd enjoyed a small laugh at his expense. “I knew your father. He was a good man. I sometimes do business with your brother. Fine boy. Where is he?”
“He’s in the church, with the rest of the people the wizards cursed.”
A woman seated in the middle of the throng said, “No, dear, on
e of the wizards told some of us they were just putting the injured to sleep.”
“By cursing them,” Honor said. “The wizards cursed them to sleep. I saw them do it.”
“Yes,” the woman said. “I suppose you could put it that way, but the wizard told me they’d done it so that they could rest and heal.”
“And stop attacking the wizards’ dragons. The dragons that had hurt them in the first place.”
“Is that what happened to your brother?” Gibbons asked. “Was he hurt attacking a dragon?”
Honor blushed and said, “No.”
Gibbons brightened slightly and opened his mouth, clearly preparing to exploit this hole in her logic.
Honor said, “He and Bishop Galbraith threw themselves over me to save me from arrows. They both got hit. One of the wizards watched it happen and did nothing to help any of us. Then another made them sleep with her magic.”
Another of the local men spoke up. “I’m sorry that happened to your brother, but I saw the wizards trying to protect us and chase off the dragons.”
“Then they didn’t do a very good job, did they?” Honor said. “Mister Gibbons said that the entire militia is down. So are my brother and the bishop. All of the folks lying in the church right now got hurt while the wizards were protecting them.”
“You said you know what you saw,” the man said. “I know what I saw, too, and I saw the wizards trying to chase the dragons off.”
Gibbons nodded. “Thank you, Seth. Very good. See, Honor? He was out there, too, and he saw the wizards helping.”
Honor said, “Maybe a few of the wizards were faking. Maybe they pretended to try to help us so that we wouldn’t blame them, and we wouldn’t hurt their dragons.”
Gibbons said, “I seriously doubt that, Honor.”
“Why? Did you see them helping? Did you watch them trying their hardest? Or were you just told it and now you believe it because you want to?”
“Well, no, I didn’t see them helping,” Gibbons admitted. “I was in the church most of the time. I didn’t really see much, but others did. Everyone, show of hands, how many of you really got a good look at what happened?”
