by Scott Meyer
“You didn’t create that!” Martin said, straining to hold Jimmy at bay. “All you did was take something I created and change it!”
“Yes! I changed it into something new,” Jimmy said, bearing down with all of his strength. “Something better, that I made.”
“I created this macro! I came up with the idea! I invented the control scheme. I animated the transition!”
“Yes, and I thank you for your assistance,” Jimmy said, with an innocent expression that Martin thought just might be genuine.
Martin shifted his weight to the right and let all of the strength go out of his arms. Jimmy fell forward and rolled to the side and away from Martin. As he clumsily got Giant Martin up on his feet, he hissed, “You have no originality!”
“That’s ridiculous!” Jimmy said, as he rolled on the ground.
Martin stood over him brandishing his staff and shouted, “This castle. The Hobbits. The Orcs. My macro. Even your name! Everything you do is a copy.”
Jimmy sprawled on the ground, flailing wildly for a moment before managing to maneuver Giant Jimmy into a low crouch. “And I was the first person to put it all together!”
Martin thought, I gotta keep him occupied, and get him out in public if I can. He glanced around the hall. People were starting to gather in the doorways and outside the gigantic windows that lined the walls. He took a clumsy step backward with his right foot to adjust his stance and said, “There’s more to innovation than just putting other people’s ideas together like LEGO bricks.” He adjusted his grip on his staff, holding it near its base with both hands. He swung it like a baseball bat with all of his force, aimed squarely for the real Jimmy at the core of Giant-Jimmy. Jimmy saw it coming and took a single step backward. Being Jimmy, that single step took Giant Jimmy all the way to the back of the hall, leaving Giant Martin to cope with the momentum of the swing. Martin spun clumsily, lost his footing, and fell to the marble floor.
“You make a valid point,” Jimmy said. “My innovation wasn’t to do what everyone else did. My innovation was to do it better.”
Phillip appeared in the secret upstairs annex of his shop and was immediately horrified. Four wizards were sent there before him with the instructions to use his Commodore 64 to try to find a safe teleportation point into Camelot. The first wizard to be transferred, David the Russian ladykiller, had made a beeline for the computer and was hard at work. The next three wizards, the two Magnuses and Sergio from Italy, had clearly decided that David had matters well in hand, and that the best thing they could do was make themselves at home. One Magnus was trying to pry the coin box of Phillip’s GORF machine open to see if there were any quarters. The other was draped over Phillip’s white couch like a slab of melted cheese, his boots kicked up on the armrest. Sergio was sitting in the driver’s seat of the Fiero, inspecting the interior with an amused scowl on his face.
“You! Feet off of my couch!” Phillip shouted. “You! Out of my car!”
Sergio muttered, “Gladly,” but didn’t seem to be hurrying to comply.
Phillip turned his attention to the GORF machine. “Magnus, you can make all the gold you could ever need! Why would you even bother trying to steal from me?”
Magnus looked at Phillip and said, “I dunno. It’s what’cha do, isn’t it?” He turned his attention back to trying to jimmy open the coin box.
Gwen appeared. Phillip spun around and said, “See why I tried to keep this a secret?”
Gwen held up her hands and said, “You’re preaching to the choir.”
Jeff and Felix were still sending wizards over, so it was no surprise when Kirk appeared. He spun slowly in awe, then said, “Wow! It’s like I’m watching an episode of Miami Vice!”
Couch Magnus said, “Really? I think it’s kinda dated and sad.”
“That’s what I meant,” Kirk replied.
“Okay, Gwen,” Phillip said, “now we have to get to my hut.”
“Do you know the coordinates?”
“Not off the top of my head,” Phillip said as he ran to the roll-away garage door built into the wall. “If I did, we’d have just gone straight there. We have to get there as soon as possible, and we can’t get the coordinates because my computer is occupied.” He hefted the door up on its rollers. It slid smoothly along tracks on the ceiling, exposing a mass of sturdy looking oak planks. He backed up, took a moment to gather his strength, then ran into the planks with his shoulder, causing them to break free of the door frame and tip forward at hinges built into their base. The planks stopped with a dull whump, forming a ramp between the second floor of Phillip’s shop and the crest of the steep hill behind it. Phillip opened the passenger door of the Fiero and made an inviting motion with his other hand toward Gwen, like a doorman helping a lady into a cab.
“Can I offer you a ride in my car?” Phillip asked.
Sergio, still in the driver’s seat, said, “Cool. Where are you going to sit, Phil?”
Martin had to admit, Jimmy had improved on his macro. Not only was Giant Jimmy larger, stronger, and flashier than Giant Martin, but Jimmy’s signature glide-step was a superior means of locomotion when compared to Martin’s technique of flailing his arms while struggling to maintain his balance. Jimmy was playing with him. He would drift effortlessly from one corner of the great hall to another and Martin, standing in the center of the room, would laboriously turn to face him. A few times Jimmy cut diagonally across the room, forcing Martin to defensively leap out of his way, then clamber back to his feet. It was all the more embarrassing for Martin because of the spectators. Looking at the windows and doors, it seemed to Martin that the castle’s entire staff was watching Jimmy make a monkey of him. Not bad, he thought, but if we’re ever going to draw a proper crowd, I need to get him outside.
Giant Jimmy was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. Martin could just pick out Jimmy’s face peering out from between the glowing blue orbs. Since he wrote the macro to begin with, he knew that the spheres that made up Giant Jimmy were transparent from Jimmy’s point of view, much like the boxes that made up Giant Martin were to him.
“You should’ve joined me, Martin,” Jimmy said, moving gracefully across the far end of the great hall. “I really could’ve used someone with your skills.” Jimmy launched Giant Jimmy at Giant Martin with surprising speed. Martin ducked, barely evading Giant Jimmy’s arm as Jimmy attempted to clothesline Giant Martin on his way across the room.
Martin smiled bitterly and turned toward Jimmy while remaining in his crouch. He made a show of looking over Giant Jimmy from head to toe, then said, “Seems to me you already did.”
“Why is everyone so hung up on who came up with an idea? In the end, nothing could be less important! It’s who utilizes an idea that matters. Inventing isn’t nearly as important as using.”
“What an eloquent way to sum up your world view.”
Jimmy said, “Thank you,” and launched Giant Jimmy at Martin again. This time, since Giant Martin was hunkered down in a crouch, Jimmy swung his giant staff at him like a hockey stick. Martin sprung into the air. Giant Martin mimicked the movements of Martin’s actual limbs on a much larger scale, and in the process multiplied the forces involved. Since the only parts of Giant Martin that had mass were the hands, feet, staff, and Martin’s comparatively tiny real body suspended inside Giant Martin’s torso, that meant that a leap that would make Martin fly two feet into the air sent Giant Martin rocketing into the gold plated rafters of the great hall. He tried to grab the rafters, but only managed to give himself an awkward spin as he fell back to the floor a hundred feet below. He landed on his side, then struggled to regain his footing. Giant Jimmy was again standing at the throne end of the hall, bobbing lightly with bent knees, the way actors do when they are playing a ninja. Martin could hear the people watching laughing at him.
“That was not meant as a compliment,” Martin
said.
“The best compliments seldom are,” Jimmy replied.
“You lied to me, Jimmy. When you asked me to join you, you said you wanted to make a better future.”
“And who’s to say I haven’t?”
“The Orcs!”
Jimmy laughed. “That’s just silly! The Orcs don’t talk, or at least they won’t when they’re finished.”
Martin righted himself and faced Jimmy, ready for the next attack.
“You really don’t get it,” Jimmy said, as if he was only now understanding Martin’s confusion. “Martin, nothing we do affects the future at all. We’ve proven that. Not only is there no reason not to change things, knowing what we know, it’s our moral duty to change things. I talked the king into ordering people to boil their water and to not eat spoiled food. I got slavery outlawed. You don’t hear Phillip complaining about that, do you? Sure, the Hobbits and the Elves are a bit silly, but if we’re going to improve the world, why shouldn’t we have fun doing it? Think of the possibilities! I plan to put an end to the Crusades. Then I’ll prevent the Inquisition. Imagine a Renaissance where someone with unlimited funds lets Da Vinci build whatever he wants. Where Michelangelo is never without a commission. What if, when the new world was discovered, the Native Americans had horses and guns? Let’s find out! Picture World War One with armored blimps! What if Adolf Hitler’s parents had an unfortunate accident, and he got adopted by a nice Jewish family? I have seen the future, Martin, and it’s a better past!”
After a moment’s thought, Martin said, “Jimmy, I won’t be a part of this!”
Jimmy said, “And you’ve convinced me that you shouldn’t. Well done,” and hurled Giant Jimmy at Giant Martin with all of his strength. Giant Martin was standing flat footed in the middle of the hall, holding his staff at waist height with both hands. Jimmy was aiming high this time, and it was clear to everyone that Martin would not be able to dodge. Jimmy’s aim was spot on, and Giant Jimmy’s left fist flew with staggering force into Giant Martin’s face. Since Jimmy had forgotten what he was doing, and punched one of the many parts of Giant Martin that had no mass, his fist streaked through Giant Martin’s head as if he had punched a cloud of smoke. Martin, meanwhile, reversed his right hand’s grip on the staff, took a single step backward with his left foot, and as Giant Jimmy flew past, Martin swung the giant staff, the bust of Santo on the end acting as a counterweight, and struck real Jimmy in the small of the back. The blow added a substantial amount of momentum to Jimmy’s already out-of-control trajectory, sending him screaming and flying toward the entry hall. Spectators dove to the side as Giant Jimmy skidded and tumbled through the antechamber and back out into the courtyard.
Martin said, “I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement.” He pointed his staff forward, and Giant Martin flew out of the great hall.
The streets of Leadchurch were not particularly full, but still, the sight of a white Pontiac Fiero tearing through at speeds of up to forty miles per hour had caused a great many people to scream, then dodge, then scream again.
Inside the car, Phillip looked like a kid in a candy store, and Gwen sounded like a mother who didn’t want to buy any candy.
“What in the world? Why is the music so loud?” she asked.
“It isn’t!” Phillip explained, cranking on the wheel. “It seems loud because the speakers are built into the headrests! Isn’t it awesome?”
“It might be if you were playing something good,” Gwen said, gripping the dashboard for dear life.
Phillip steered the car sideways through a sliding turn while explaining, “That’s Genesis! It’s called ‘That’s All’! It’s a song of love and loss and a relationship turned sour!”
“Does Phil Collins write songs about anything else?”
“He doesn’t have to. He’s so good at writing that, to do anything else would be a waste of talent! It’s a great song! In the video the whole band was dressed up like bums.”
As a chicken bounced off of the windshield, Gwen asked, “Why? What do bums have to do with this song?”
“You know,” Phillip said while the car skidded to a stop in front of his home, “I’m not sure.” The car had scarcely stopped before Phillip threw the door open and ran into his house, taking his staff, which had lain across both of their laps and out of Gwen’s window.
Gwen followed, taking the time to look around at the frightened villagers, eyeing the Fiero like it was a vicious beast, which they probably thought it was. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It can’t hurt you.” She remembered Phillip’s driving, then added, “When it’s still. It can’t hurt you when it’s still. If you see it moving, run and hide.”
Gwen entered Phillip’s home and found him hastily untying the knots that fastened a heavy canvas hammock suspended in the corner. “What are you doing?” she asked.
One end of the hammock came loose and fell to the floor. Phillip lunged to the other end and started to work on the knots, mumbling, “Martin’s been using this tarpaulin as a hammock, but I need it now.” A few seconds later, the hammock was no more, and Phillip had a tarp tucked under his arm. He scurried over to a trunk that sat in the corner near the cold fireplace. He rummaged furiously, let out a triumphant shout, and came up with a coil of rope.
“All right,” he said. “We’re ready to go!”
“Where are we going?” Gwen asked.
Phillip squinted, set his jaw, pointed to a door that was not the entrance and said, “To the bathroom.”
Gwen grimaced, and said, “Ewwwww.”
Giant Jimmy ground to a stop in the front courtyard of the castle Camelot after tumbling through the entry arch and sliding for some distance. He had just enough time to get up on all fours before Martin was on him again. Jimmy had demonstrated that the giant forms flew more gracefully than they walked. It was a lesson Martin took to heart.
Giant Martin barreled out of the castle skimming the ground, and grabbed Jimmy with his free hand as he passed. As Jimmy left the ground, Giant Jimmy went with him, mimicking every move Jimmy made. Martin shot up at a forty-five degree angle. Almost instantly they reached an altitude of a hundred feet, and Martin employed the first maneuver he had learned, albeit by accident. He pulled his staff arm inward, as if to shield his face. The staff’s air speed dropped to nothing, then to full reverse, as it had the day he learned to fly. Again, Martin’s body cracked like a whip. This time he kept his grip on the staff, but he deliberately let go of Jimmy. Giant Martin hung in space from his hovering staff and watched as Giant Jimmy splatted against the inside surface of Camelot’s golden wall, then slowly slid down to the ground.
Martin adjusted his pose to look a little more heroic and floated, waiting, while Giant Jimmy groaned and rolled on the ground, stunned. Jimmy crawled over and sat heavily on the ground, his back resting against the wall. Clearly, hitting the wall had knocked the fight out of him. Martin looked around. The tops of the walls were lined with the soldiers enjoying the best view in the house. The gate held back a sizeable crowd, not that any of them had any interest in getting closer. Martin felt a small pang of sympathy for his adversary. Jimmy wanted to be important, and who couldn’t relate to that? Jimmy was learning the hard lesson that the things we do to make ourselves feel big end up making us look small.
Giant Martin drifted in closer. “Had enough, Merlin?”
Giant Jimmy’s shoulders sagged. Jimmy laughed. “Yeah. I’ve had enough.”
“Good. Let’s go inside and wait for the others.”
Giant Jimmy’s hand slowly went up. Jimmy said, “In a second. There’s just one thing I want to do.” He made a fist and thrust it toward Martin, shouting “Ŝraŭbo vi!” Something, a force field, a shock wave, a wrecking ball, something hit Martin with tremendous force. As he flew helplessly through the air, he was dimly aware that Giant Martin had dissipated. His body hit the wall of the castl
e just above the entry arch and fell to the ground below. As he rolled on the ground, struggling to catch his breath, he saw the blue mass of glowing orbs that formed Giant Jimmy closing on him fast. He felt the giant hand close around him, and then he was streaking across the courtyard again, hitting the far wall and falling to the ground.
“Such a waste,” Jimmy said as he rushed toward Martin again. Martin was lifted and thrown again too quickly for his brain to process the sensations. As he sailed through the air, hit the castle wall, and fell to the cobblestones below, he heard Jimmy still talking.
“And now you learn the central truth of your friend Phillip’s life. He never really does anything.” Then Martin was streaking through the air, into the wall and down to the ground again. “He watches,” Jimmy continued, “while other people do things and he complains about it. Sure, he felt just as strongly as you did that I needed to be stopped.” Martin was flung across the courtyard again. He was getting to where he was hardly aware of it. “But you’re the one here getting used as a racquetball, and where is he? Somewhere far away, probably saying something snide.” Jimmy threw Martin again, with extra force this time, as if he were throwing Phillip … at Phillip. “He’s perfectly happy to let others take all of the risks, but he resents anyone who claims the rewards.”
Martin lay, a crumpled mess on the ground. He was stunned and in great pain, but some part of his brain knew that he was not injured. Giant Martin was gone, but his invulnerability remained. Perhaps other things still worked. He lifted his staff into the air and said, “Flugi.” A different part of his brain was not at all surprised when nothing happened.
Giant Jimmy stood over Martin, giving him time to realize just how doomed he was. Martin employed the only means of escape his brain could provide in its current state. He crawled.
