by Lee Bond
And that would most useful.
“Yes, of course.” The Emperor smiled magnanimously. “That’s all part of it. So there you have it, Garth N’Chalez, Kin’kithal and would-be destroyer of the Universe. You have coin in the bank. I can give you what you need to succeed, but be warned! Some things cost more than others. A single … purchase … can empty you out completely, and all chance of reuniting with someone who might become a friend or ally will be lost to you forever. What say you? What … things … do you think you might need to accomplish the dual goals of protecting your friends from Samiel and from what comes after, for that surely is the root from which your guilt grew in the first place, no? Not being certain they were safe after you were forced to leave?”
Garth took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “This … model of the proto-Reality…”
“It is no model, nor simulation, nor anything you’ve ever encountered before.” Eddie snapped angrily. “It is as real as the Unreal Universe.”
Garth snickered. “That ain’t sayin’ much, pal. Anyways, how accurate is it?”
“Eh?” Eddie raised a glorious Emperor eyebrow.
“How far back in the past can it start? A week? A month? A year? A decade? Is there enough information to properly render your … pocket dimension from some other temporal vantage point?”
Drake started shifting his weight from one foot to the other but a sudden, speculative glance from Garth forced him to move closer to Eddie instead to disguise the movement. He ignored the strange look from his best friend. He needed to be more on top of his game; Garth's response to his inadvertent change in posture had been swift and unmistakable. Technically impossible given that Eddie was dampening the Specter's abilities, and therefore considerably worrisome.
This was going to go poorly.
It just remained to be seen who was going to come out on top.
Eddie –keeping Drake in his peripheral vision- nodded. “I see now what you intend, and I assure you, between your memories and our own, there is enough data to send you quite far into the past. But that is a costly purchase.”
“All these people are up for sale?” Garth demanded, using a tone he’d heard Babel use often enough. It was a special tone, one that automatically put people on their guard because it quite earnestly oozed ‘I’m about three seconds away from ripping you off but you won’t see it coming’ vibe. The cool thing was, even with their guard up, they almost always wound up looking in the wrong direction and wound up losing everything including their underwear. “Including Sparks and Drake?”
“Why would you want to…”
“It’s as you said, Emperor-for-Life.” Garth interrupted with an honest shrug. “The timeline I experienced was completely manufactured for me, from the ground up. You’ve implied on more than one occasion that my only meeting with the Ushbet M’Tai was merely my final one, which suggests that they did more than massage my entrance but actually directed everything in my life, including my friendship with Drake and Sparks.
Without interference, without divine intervention and the walking deus ex machina they turned me into, there is actually very little chance I’d be friends with them. You’ve seen my memories. You know what they were like, the things they were into. The danger they invited into their lives. Lissande Amour turned out to be the worst of them all, sure, yeah, but you can’t really count on time-traveling zombies rolling in to fuck your shit up. But illegal bitcoin servers, hosting Silk Road knock-off Darkweb auction sites, gambling, bribes, drugs, alcohol, all those things invited a less than savory element into their lives. Either the M'Tai toned that recklessness down or the guys did it themselves, but the signs were unmistakable. Saw 'em, and ignored them. So, Etienne Marseilles, what are my two best friends worth in this mythical shop of wonders? Anything at all?"
Furious and doing his best to disguise it, Eddie nodded. “Of course they are. As I said. All your friends and allies are on the table. Shall we deal?”
Drake wanted to pull Eddie aside to warn him about the likely outcome of this little barter session, but stayed his hand, for two reasons.
One, Eddie just plain old wouldn’t listen; ‘The Emperor’ was absolutely convinced he had the upper hand. Pressing the point would only force Eddie into admitting that he found it impossible Garth–a man he called savage- was his intellectual equal, much less his superior.
And two, Drake realized he didn’t want to. Eddie's outright announcement that if Garth failed in his endeavors that he’d be the one to destroy the Universe was an unpleasant glimpse into what the 'Emperor' had become these past few millennia. Drake held out hope that this was all some new part of Eddie’s gambit to force Garth into really and truly working through these moments as were intended, so he held his peace for the time being.
But if he was wrong, if Eddie did see himself in that unwelcome role, that was a terrible shift in behaviors and attitudes.
One that’d need curtailing.
“Oh yeah, I got a list of stuff I’d like.” Garth smiled wide. “But before we get down to selling these people like cattle, there’s something else we need to discuss.”
Emperor-for-Life Etienne Marseilles tilted his head to one side. “Such as?”
Garth waved his hands around. “I dunno how it works for other people in this here place, but I’m willing to bet that I’m the only dude that’s got this kind of shit to deal with, am I right? I bet I am. Find it real hard to believe any of the other rando peeps who come your way have issues of, oh, say, time traveling maniacs to deal with. Or quite as lengthy an ordeal. I’m right, right? You can admit it.”
Eddie paused for a long five count, unwilling to accede to Garth’s summation so readily. When an appropriate length of time had passed, The Emperor dipped his head sagely. “It is true. Of all the people who have stood before me, your … trial … is both longer, and with more intrinsic difficulties. For most, it is a day, or perhaps a week. Why do you ask?”
“I ain’t willing to go through this if, every time I die, I start all the way back at the fucking beginning.” Garth licked his lips. “And owing to the complexity and length of my ‘trial’, as you call it, I think that’s incredibly unreasonable to expect. And boring, too. Admit it, you got bored when I died on the cab ride over, didn’t you? I mean, I know I did. After like, round seventy, I gotta admit, I was looking for hilariously grisly ways to die. If I can’t make it past a certain point, I’ll never learn my lessons. And …”
“And?” Eddie demanded with an arched eyebrow.
“And you won’t be able to crow at me if I eventually fail. Because sooner or later, the goal –in theory- is that I make it to the end, right? Where this awful thing happened? You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”
“So.” Eddie stroked his long Emperor Beard thoughtfully. “What is it you propose?”
“Save points.” Garth beamed. He liked the idea, especially because –no matter what the pompous ruler claimed- he was in a goddamn simulation. “Like in video games.”
“I am familiar with the concept.” Eddie was glad N’Chalez had broached the subject on his own rather than leaving him to bring the idea up a second time; by being so crafty, the Kin’kithal had put himself in the negative. “I can see the merit of the idea, yes.”
“So whaddya think? Every hour? I can tell by the sourpuss look on your face that you think that’s … every day?” Garth shook his head. The Emperor’s stoic expression screamed quite loudly ‘keep on tryin’, asshat’. “Every week?”
Eddie nodded slowly, magisterially, affecting a look of great kindness as he did so. “Agreed. Once a week, at midnight, on Sundays, your progress will be ‘saved’. Should you die at any point after that, you will return to that moment in time. A bit unlike this ‘Groundhog Day’ movie, but the point remains the same, I suppose.”
Garth smiled easily. “What if I’m going to do something supremely risky?”
“I do not follow.”
“Okay, look, say … say I find a b
unch of ODDities chillin’ in their underground basement lair, right? And I’m like, oh shit son, I could kill all these dudes and considerably lessen my chances of being murdered in the street by these lens-eyed maniacs. What then? Like, in the video games, they always let you save before a boss fight.”
Eddie bit back a curse. He could feel Drake’s amusement, and it made his skin itch. “Is this something you are likely to do? More than once?”
Garth nodded assiduously, adding, “Bro, are you sure you looked at my memories? I’m, like, one hundred percent certain of it. I might even get into rando knife fights on the boulevard for shits and giggles. That’s how I roll. Well, how I roll these days.”
An idea blossomed in Eddie’s mind. “Very well, but … at a steep price. You may ‘save’ yourself whenever and wherever you want, but in order to do so, you must … kill yourself.”
“What, like in that shoot and loot game? When that CEO guy offers your player a whack of rare what-the-fuck-ever if you jump off this fucking really high place?” Garth shook his head. “That’s bonkers. Like, totally bonkers. The whole point of this thing is to not die and the first thing out of your mouth is ‘Dude, you need to off yourself’.”
Eddie gestured dismissively. “That is my one and only offer. You may save yourself whenever and wherever you wish, so long as you kill yourself. A … blood sacrifice, if you will. And each time must be different than the time before.”
Garth pursed his lips, considering the offer. As far as ‘good deals’ went, it was firmly smack dab in the middle of ‘batshit insane’ and ‘can’t really turn it down’. “I’m not going to be stepping over my own corpse or anything, am I?”
“Hardly. Each reset will be pristine. Yay or nay, N’Chalez, there are more pressing matters to attend to.”
Garth pressed his lips firmly together. The notion of offing himself on a non-stop basis to get what he wanted out of life seemed like a poor idea indeed, but alternative solutions weren’t exactly flinging themselves at his face, now were they? “Fine. Deal. Guaranteed unique suicides each time I want to create a spawn point. On your honor.”
Eddie bowed deeply. “On my honor. Now, let us begin the true matter at hand.”
“First, I’d like to buy three months of time. In the past. Plus, a bulletproof history. The exact duplicate of the one the Ushbet gave me, up to and including the dead Swedish parents and legitimate entrance into the United States of America. That includes a PIDpak and everything else. At no point during my time in your simulation do I want that identity to fail on general principles. If I do illegal shit and I get busted, that’s fine, but I don’t want to be hanging out at a Slappy Burgers and have Officer Friendly bust me for being an illegal alien. I need three million dollars in cash and …”
“Three months of lead time has eaten nearly all your available funds, N’Chalez.” Eddie waved a hand and all but three characters remained: Billie Timmins, Delbert Granger and the bio-organic machine known as Tezzy. “The PIDpak is the least expensive, but I am feeling … generous. I’ll allow that one to skate in with the purchase of the time in. Three million dollars, though … that’s exorbitant. None of these are worth that to you.”
“Tezzy alone is worth fourteen million nu-dollars.” Garth countered hotly. “Stolen bio-organic computational machinery didn’t grow on trees that far up The Line, you know.”
“Ah, so sorry.” Eddie plastered an obsequious, apologetic smile on his face. “I forgot to mention, it’s not their own worth that was used to calculate their value, but their value to you personally. These three were involved in your life, yes, but ultimately speaking, they had tremendously little impact in what was going on.”
“Delbert Granger was the one who got me back into the hotel. Where I wound up being in the future. Which was all part of the plan.”
“That was preordained. The Ushbet always wanted you there, and had he failed, someone else would’ve come along.” Eddie countered deftly. “Billie Timmins initially wanted nothing to do with you, but you forced her to join you. It wasn’t until much later that she came along willingly. You would’ve done just fine without her presence. And this … Tezzy thing? It … she … could’ve been of much use to you, I agree. Inestimable use, but you were … invited to leave Jim Seeker’s group after Deshawn caught you using your Kin’kithal powers and convinced the others you were … inhuman. If you want cash in the bank, as it were, these three people are worth barely a hundred thousand dollars.”
Garth cursed under his breath, but it was all for show. The plan had always been pointed in a different direction. “You said anything, right? Anything at all?”
Eddie stifled a surge of glee. He’d been disappointed thus far that Garth hadn’t tried bargaining for any of his Kin’kithal powers but that was about to change. Why, he was even willing to give the man whatever he wanted for the last three people on the table because that would allow him to change the rules of the game even further.
What would he ask for, Eddie wondered. Strength? Speed? Telekinesis?
Garth opened his mouth to say something, so Eddie spoke up. “I am an Emperor of my word, N’Chalez. Anything you can think of. So long as the values balance, that is.”
“Okay.” Garth nodded like an accountant ticking off a column. “Just so we’re clear here. Three months in the past is already locked in and unchanged?” He continued when the Emperor nodded. “And my identity is bulletproof. As far as the United States government and all affiliated people are concerned, I spent the majority of my life living in Sweden. My parents died in a plane crash and I decided to move to the US afterwards. Good. This is kind of fun. I’ll take ten thousand dollars in cash and the property at 43 Miriam Street.”
Drake took a step back. He couldn’t help himself. The cunning. The sheer, sheer cunning of it all.
If this bold move didn’t prove that Garth was more than just a man who could destroy, that he was –in fact- able to think around corners and actually plan an attack that took thirty thousand years to come into play, then nothing would.
And they’d all be lost.
“Nonsense.” Eddie returned glibly. “That property belongs to Baron Samiel. It is his beachhead in the San Francisco area. I can’t give you something that someone else owns. Just as I can’t make you President of the United States of America, neither can I steal something from someone else.”
“I agree,” Garth replied just as glibly, “the old school on that property does become Baron Samiel’s property. Well, Lissande Amour’s, but … yeah, no, you get it. Not until a month before I arrive. Prior to that moment in time, that property lay on the market for more than two years. I know, because I saw the paperwork when I broke into the club hoping to find some incriminating evidence. I wanted to ask for something a little more saucy, like a job at WesFornia Drugs, you know, the Western seaboard’s prime distribution point for the drug that hypothetically arrests or otherwise prevents people from catching Ocular Degenerative Disease but then I thought to myself, nah, the Emperor’d probably say something like ‘I can’t do that because reasons’. But the land? Where SlimJim’s gets built? No one owns it at the beginning of the specified time… The government is desperate to sell property, Emperor. They’re even offering major kickbacks to anyone who picks up fallow land. If the Baron wants it that badly, he could’ve picked it up anytime over the last two years alone. You can’t not give it to me. It’s only worth about three thousand dollars because of all the work that’s got to be done to it and you can’t tell me that I don’t have that much left. I’ll even give you three thousand of the dollars you’ve already given back.”
Garth paused, letting his speech sink in, enjoying the silence, wondering what in the hell was going on with Spur. You’d have to have been blind to miss the android’s reaction to his demand for one of Baron Samiel’s properties, but … it didn’t make sense.
There was definitely something else going on here. Something that wasn’t immediately obvious. It had a lot to do with
how Spur and the Emperor were downright frosty to one another, only there was a lot more subtext going on that simply just bitterness at a five thousand year separation.
“Well, Emperor?” Garth demanded into the silence. The extravagant murals and paintings all seemed to be staring at him now. Hell, for all he knew, they were doing exactly that. “Or are you telling me that your simulation can’t handle the changes this will force the Baron … sorry, your version of the Baron … to take?”
“Fine.” Eddie snapped bitterly. “The land is yours. The ten thousand dollars is yours. The identity and the time, all yours. I remind you, though. The Baron is a time-traveler. He’ll notice the loss of something that was, for him, destined. And he’ll come looking.”
Garth put on a look of extreme satisfaction. “That, Emperor, is what I’m hoping for.”
Eddie clapped his hands, and Garth ‘Nickels’ N’Chalez disappeared back into the pocket dimension.
“Wow.” Drake commented dryly. “He bent you over and fucked you stupid.”
Emperor’s Lies
Drake repeated his words when it looked like Eddie’d suffered a minor stroke, embellishing as he went along, “Like one of those guys in the pornos. With the really huge wang, and you were like some kind of fresh eighteen year old who barely reaches five…”
“I get it!” Eddie snarled, flashing away the ‘reality’ he chose to present to Garth whenever the man returned from the proto-Reality; the Emperor disappeared in a puff of smoke to reveal Eddie Marshall, occasional ne’er-do-well and current ‘ruler’ of an entire civilization of people. The huge auditorium wavered into nothingness, revealing a rather intimate room similar to the one they’d spent so much time in on the other side.
“I get it.” Eddie said again, this time a little listlessly.
It didn’t make any sense. Who in their right mind would choose not to regain some lost measure of their power? He’d seen it a million times! There wasn’t even a need to make a formula out of it, it was that simple.
