Split Second Solution

by Denny Taylor

  Cat yowled as the A-I hacker recommended “delete” and the entity signed off, making a note before he did, “Girl dead. Boy psychotic. Surveillance low priority. Recommend terminating.”

  “Apologies for the scratches,” Cat said, in his head. “They would have known if you faked it. You were in pain and you disclosed the information they wanted to hear – that the girl is dead – so they’re no longer interested in you.” Cat did not tell X-it the recommendation was to terminate him.

  “Do you know what happened to her?” X-it asked, his anxiety clearly written on his face. “I tried to save her but the current was so strong and the water was so full of shit I lost sight of her.”

  The Old Crone sat quietly her hands still in her lap staring at X-it. Then she looked at Death who had resumed her Kiss persona and was standing in front of the Fire.

  “Perhaps we should wait for the truth telling in case the hacker smells a rat and comes back,” Death said. “You’ve been recategorized and reassigned but we don’t want to tempt fate.”

  “Smells a Cat you mean.” X-it couldn’t help himself. He started laughing. “I’m God knows where talking to an old woman who looks as if she was born before the year dot, talking to the Kiss of Death who keeps turning into a Cat that likes to mooch in my head, and you talk of tempting fate!” X-it shook his head. “God help me!”

  “She’s trying to,” Death said.

  Seven

  They sat in silence. X-it on the rug by the Fire. Death who needed comforting was once again Cat sitting on the Old Crone’s lap in her favorite position with her front paws tucked under staring into the Fire. And the Old Crone with one claw hand on Cat’s back appeared to be sleeping.

  “I saw devils in the Fire,” X-it said, in a monotone.

  “You imagined them,” the Old Crone said, opening her eyes and staring at him.

  “Did I imagine being hacked by Cat?” X-it asked sarcastically. “Tell me I imagined that!”

  “No,” Cat said, turning and speaking out loud, “that was real.”

  “I’m lost,” X-it said. Angrily, anxiously, he whispered his grieving and his loss. “We’ve endured infinite misery and reached the point of our final doom and all I want is to know what happened to –”

  “No!” The Old Crone said authoritatively. “Don’t think about her. Not until you have learned to detect the A-I or bio-hacker monitoring your thoughts.”

  “And how would I do that?” X-it asked, the desperation in his voice indicating that he was close to breaking.

  “I’ll teach you,” Cat said, turning her head to look at him. “We know you are very intelligent just not very smart. I will teach you to be smart.”

  “Okay,” X-it said, staring back at Cat, “but just tell me is –” he hesitated “– my friend okay?”

  “Your friend is in a deep sleep,” the Old Crone said. “It is best she stay that way until we can find a way to save her.”

  “Is she here?” X-it asked, trying to contain his thoughts by remembering the maggots and severed fingers.

  “You’re smarter than I think!” Cat said.

  “Don’t distract me!” X-it said. “It’s difficult to think one thing and say another!”

  “Yes,” the Old Crone said. “She’s here in a room above us.”

  “Can I see her?” X-it asked, his heart beating faster.

  “Careful,” Cat said.

  “Maggots!” X-it said out loud. “Maggots!”

  “Keep thinking maggots,” the Old Crone said. “No. You cannot see her. It would endanger her life and yours. We don’t know yet if her mind has also been infiltrated.”

  X-it shook his head. “Not possible. She’s encrypted – I hate maggots! – No one knows –”

  “Stop!” the Old Crone said, fiercely. “Reveal nothing. It’s her only hope of survival.”

  “I’ll have a mooch,” Cat said, purring as she opened her eyes wide and looked directly into X-it’s eyes. “Just keep thinking about bloody little fingers.”

  X-it made up his mind to cooperate and began thinking about maggots and severed fingers. He tried to think of something just as gross and Cat said in his head “worms in feces?” and he couldn’t help himself, he started laughing. But he quickly stopped when he heard what sounded like a bird chirping.

  Even though he had lost his concentration X-it was sure he felt a ripple in his consciousness and Cat leaving his head. He also felt an urgency, which he didn’t understand, almost like panic. He knew something was happening that had nothing to do with Cat having a mooch – but what?

  The Walls of the room were rippling, the Four Corners bending, and the Old Crone was gone.

  “Where’d she go?” X-it asked Cat, who was now covered in mange sitting beside him on the rug swishing her tail. “What’s happening?”

  The chirping became shrill, the bird’s song sounding like a pulsing high-pitched siren and then it suddenly stopped.

  “Don’t know,” Cat said. “I think I’m having an anxiety attack. Can I sit on your lap?” Cat gave X-it a screwed up Cheshire Cat smile and he picked her up even though she was now covered with sores that were foul smelling and oozing.

  “Thank you,” Cat said. “You’re a kind boy. I won’t forget your kindness,” she said as she curled up on his lap her teeth chattering. “I hope she doesn’t die,” she mewed. “Please God, don’t let her die!”

  “Let’s concentrate on mooching,” X-it said, thinking to himself that he couldn’t believe he was cuddling a mangy Cat that sometimes looked like Kiss and had a soft spot for David Bowie.

  “You’re right, the entity and A-I can pass through matter without interacting with it so –” Cat did not finish the sentence.

  In the room above the girl opened her eyes, ready to fight and possibly die, if she was not already dead. She reached for the knife that she kept strapped to her leg but the sheaf was empty and so she clenched her fists instead. But the effort to be conscious was too much and she began to drift, light headed, and unable to think of anything except her determination to survive.

  “This is the moment,” Cat said, her eyes dilated and her claws out digging into X-it’s leg. “Oh god! Oh god!” the scabrous Cat started yowling. “I know she’s dying and I don’t know what to do! I don’t want to let her down! Or you! We’ve got to get this right.”

  “We will!” X-it said, having no idea how they were going to do that.

  “There are no cowards,” Cat said, yowling a lament. “People are dying so beautifully, with great courage, but it’s wrong, and we’ve got to stop it!”

  X-it thought it peculiar that it was Death who was agonizing about people dying, and he had no idea how Cat thought they were going to stop what was happening. But for the first time he was convinced he could trust her and he would continue the struggle alongside her. At a loss to know what to say next to comfort Cat, X-it just blathered.

  “It’s just a momentary ripple in the pond of spacetime,” he said.

  “That’s profound,” Cat said, her distress diminishing with the introduction of this new and interesting thought.

  Eight

  When the girl opened her eyes the second time the Old Crone was there looking down at her. “You’re safe,” she said, soothing her. “Shhh. We love you. Shhh. Don’t try to talk.”

  The girl looked up at the Old Crone and saw her mother smiling, loving and reassuring, looking down at her. She pushed her glasses up onto her head so the girl could see her eyes that were filled with morning light.

  The girl’s mother looked just the way she remembered her, dark brown hair pulled back in a clip, white t-shirt and blue cardigan, jeans, and sneakers. She remembered the way her mother pushed her glasses up on her head before … before … the girl’s eyes filled with pain.

  “You’re safe my darling,” her mother said. “Make sure you block incomings.”

  The girl nodded, a small movement of her head, looking at her mother with worried eyes.

  “Do you sti
ll have it?” her mother asked. “Is it safe?”

  Once again the girl nodded. With her hand she pulled off the soft blanket that was covering her and then caught hold of the hem of her t-shirt, lifting it to show her abdomen. Letting go her shirt she traced her fingers over the tiny lines of writing that were tattooed on her skin.

  “I am vellum,” she whispered, the pain in her eyes bringing tears to her mother’s eyes. Then with a look that was sharp and unsullied by emotion the girl said, “If I live we have a back-up.”

  “Everything is going to be okay,” her mother said, as the girl pulled her t-shirt down and the blanket up. “You can trust Cat and Et,” she said, holding her hand. “Now, my darling girl, I want you to close your eyes and sleep a little longer.”

  Drifting, the girl imagined holding her mother’s fingers and turning her hand over so she could see the birthmark on the inside of her wrist.

  “In the beginning …” the girl whispered. Smiling, she closed her eyes. By the time her eyelashes touched her cheeks her mother was gone and there in her place was the Old Crone, wanting to hold her hand, looking down at her.

  “…. was the word,” the Old Crone said, looking at the ancient sign for the human soul, handed down through time from the very first Truth Keeper. The Old Crone knew she must protect the girl. She was an old soul and must endure.

  “Sleep,” the Old Crone said. “We’ll watch over you.”

  The Walls rippled once more and then straightened, the Four Corners bent and adjusted their right angles and the Walls sighed, satisfied that they were doing a good job watching over the girl.

  “Yes,” the little bird chirped, flying about the room, and landing on the pillow close to the sleeping girl. “We will watch over you.”

  “Call if you need me,” the Old Crone said to the bird and then turning in a circle she thanked the Four Corners and the Walls.

  When X-it looked up the Old Crone was back in her chair.

  “I’ve been telling Cat about gravitational waves and black hole mergers,” X-it told her, without commenting on her swift return.

  “X-it knows a lot about astrophysics,” Death said, back to her psychedelic self, looking more like Bowie than Kiss in a red body suit, a black eye patch, and a yellow scarf with black polka dots tied around her neck.

  “Gravitational waves and black hole mergers?” the Old Crone asked raising her eyebrows.

  “He thinks that consciousness and space are analogous,” Death said.

  “If consciousness is like deep space,” X-it hypothesized. “Mind mergers could create the equivalent of gravitational waves that are imperceptible to people – don’t you think? Theoretically, this would make it possible for hackers to enter our consciousness and pass through our minds without us knowing they are there. But while gravitational waves could pass through the mind and be undetectable, theoretically they should be detectable in the brain, because they would distort synaptic connections in the mind-brain continuum.”

  X-it looked at the Old Crone and then at Death. “Roughly,” he said. “Sort of. You get the idea.”

  Death was beside herself with glee at this banality and for a moment there were two psychedelic creatures in the room in red body suits and with black eye patches. They circled each other and then merged sending pseudo-psychedelic gravitational rings ricocheting around the room.

  “Enough!” the Old Crone said, speaking sharply to Death. “X-it has formulated a way of thinking about the task we have set him. His analogy is a stretch, but if it helps him detect the entity or A-I that has infiltrated his consciousness that’s all that matters.”

  “So what’s your plan?” Death asked X-it looking skeptical.

  “Well,” X-it began. “You said you could teach me how to detect mind-hackers but the problem is I have to be thinking about something while you are teaching me to detect the hackers.”

  “Okay,” Death said. “What are you going to think about so no alarms go off in Hackerland?”

  “I thought about that,” X-it said. “If I was really psychotic a psychiatrist would be asking me about my childhood.”

  “Dream on,” Death said. “The hackers would send a few electrical charges to zap you.” She clasped her hands together. “And then you would be mine!”

  “Not funny,” X-it said.

  “No,” Death said. “A bit insensitive of me but the truth nevertheless.”

  “I think it’s a good plan,” the Old Crone said. “If Einstein could theorize about ripples in the spacetime continuum of the Universe there is no reason why X-it can’t theorize about ripples in the spacetime continuum of consciousness. If it works we might be able to –” the Old Crone shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows in an anything-is-possible-but-unlikely moment.

  “Exactly,” Death said. “Let’s get started.”

  Nine

  “Do you think we’re weird?” Death asked, no longer a mangy or glossy coated Cat or a psychedelic rock star, but a bat-like creature with black shiny wings hanging upside-down from the mantle.

  “Not as weird as the world in which I live,” X-it replied. He was sitting on the chair opposite the Old Crone, who once again had her hands in her lap, head down, and eyes closed. She appeared to be sleeping, although X-it was sure she was not.

  “In my world,” X-it said, “just to survive,” his voice tremoring, “you go from the most heinous, vicious people to the most courageous, brave, and caring people every single day.”

  “Are you ready to tell us about your world?” the Old Crone asked opening her eyes.

  “After I’ve had a mooch,” Death said as she flew as Bat from the mantle and landed as Cat on X-it’s lap.

  X-it smiled. He opened his eyes wide.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Cat said.

  “Thought I did,” X-it said, feeling just a little bit foolish.

  “But I do like it when you stroke my back,” said Cat, giving him her signature lopsided Cheshire Cat smile to make up for making him feel foolish.

  X-it laughed and stroked her as she went inside. The embers of the Fire glowed and the Four Corners drew closer. X-it thought he could feel Cat fur brushing up against his thoughts.

  “You have an overactive imagination,” he heard Cat say. “It’s an important lesson. You are stroking my fur and imagining it as a mindful experience. Your biggest challenge is to distinguish between what you physically feel on the outside and what you think you feel on the inside.”

  “Got-it,” X-it said, imagining being in some superhuman state, while he sat quietly stroking her.

  “No visions of grandeur,” Cat said. “That’s not very smart. Could cost you your life in a tight spot. It’s important that you distinguish between what’s real and what’s not. It’s the only way you will be able to tell if the hackers are garnering your thoughts.”

  “Okay,” X-it said. “I haven’t got it. But I am smart!”

  “You will be if you pay attention,” Cat said. “Like now!” she said, swishing her tail. “In an emergency if you see me swish my tail you will know I’m inside. A simple signal that might be useful in the near future.”

  “You swish your tail all the time,” X-it said, without speaking. “Are you going to stop?”

  “No,” Cat said. “Tail swishing is part of my emotional repertoire, but I can control it if I want and if there is an emergency you’ll need a signal –”

  “Why not just speak to me when you’re in my head?” he asked.

  X-it felt Cat shudder, but because he was stroking her he wasn’t sure if he felt it on the inside or the outside. He thought it could have been his own empathetic feelings for Cat who seemed to have become a fur ball of anxiety.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Cat yowled a huge Caterwaul of a lament.

  “Shit!” X-it said. “Try not to do that when you’re mooching! Felt like I was electrocuted.”

  “Apologies,” Cat said, sounding techy. “Which question do you want me to a
nswer first? – ‘Am I okay?’ – No! – ‘Why not just speak to you when I am in your head?’ – Because there might be a time when something dreadful is happening and speaking could be dangerous,” Cat said, tail swishing in agitation.

  “What Cat is trying to communicate,” the Old Crone said, one eye open, “is there might be a moment when the situation is so dire that she enters your mind because you’re the conduit to the entity and A-I and she might learn something from their occupation of your mind that will save your friend.”

  “Save all of us! And it’s going to happen soon! Very soon,” Cat said, jumping down off X-it’s lap and leaping onto the lap of the Old Crone. “All clear,” she said. “No hackers in his head.” She nuzzled the Old Crone under the chin. “I’m so frightened,” she said.

  “Shhh,” the Old Crone said. “Now that I am back it will be okay. I apologize for staying away for so long.”

  “You were really mean to me when I first arrived with the girl,” Cat said.

  “You’re right, I was,” the Old Crone agreed. “You understand why,” she said, giving Cat a matter-of-fact pat to end the conversation as she looked across the room at X-it who had just learned that it was Cat who had brought – the Old Crone stopped him mid-thought.

  “Brought your friend to me,” the Old Crone said. “Be careful,” she said sharply, cautioning him. “Remember, try not to think of her and do not say her name.” And then calmly and more kindly with a smile, “Would you like to tell us about Max?”

  “Max?” X-it repeated jarred by the sudden switching of topics and wondering how the Old Crone knew about Max.

  “When you first arrived you said your name was Max and then you said your dog was called Max, do you remember? Something about a bus?” the Old Crone said. “Where would you like to start?”

  “Max is a big old black lab,” X-it said. “Max is not my name. I think my family started calling me X-it when I was about six – that’s a whole other story – so much has happened I’ve forgotten my birth name.”