Microstory 2305: Not Some Big Scam

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

I finished this stage script, and that’s what I’m mostly concerned about now. The novel is great so far, but I think that has more to do with Nick’s own imaginative mind. The musical, on the other hand, is a tool. It’s one last gift from him to us, and according to these version logs, he’s been developing it pretty much the whole time he’s been here. There are certain people in the multiverse who can travel to other branes, as he calls them, but there’s no way to contact most of them out of the blue. Could you imagine how difficult that would be? I mean, none of us even knew that the bulk existed until he showed up. But this musical, it’s our one chance. It’s an opportunity to prove that he was right all along, and this was not some big scam. A man by the name of Joseph Jacobson has a magical multicolored coat, which allows him to cross these dimensional barriers. Normally, he goes wherever he wants, whenever he wants. But he can sort of be summoned if you please him with a performance that depicts his life. His story has evidently been altered and adapted so many times, it’s not a hundred percent accurate of what happened, but that’s apparently not an issue. He just wants it to be good, and worthy of his time. This script is the first step in that endeavor. With Nick gone, it will be up to us to put it into production. That’s the next chapter in my life. I’m gonna produce this play, and prove once and for all that Nick was right. So...who’s with me?

Microstory 2049: Oklahoma

< > Table of Contents

Back in August, my papa was sitting in his wheelchair in the dining room. He was looking up at the map where he and my dad had placed stickers to show which states they had gone to. My papa was only missing two states. He had never gone to Oklahoma or Minnesota. It was hard for him to pick up objects, but he asked me to hand him a quarter. When he let go of it, it fell to the floor. It landed on tails, which he had decided meant that he would be going to Oklahoma. I think he knew that he didn’t have very much time left, because that is where he died. He was sitting in a blue camping chair, watching the sunset with his favorite people. My dad was sitting on his right, and I was sitting on his left. Grandma Daphne, Aunt Cooper, Uncle Currian, and my cousins, Nash, Osmond, and Thatcher were all there too. Even though we knew that it was going to happen, it was sad, especially since I was there to see it. Still, I’m glad that he was looking at something so beautiful when it happened, instead of just staring up at the ceiling, or something.

Microstory 1788: Vulpeculiar

< > Table of Contents

I never wanted to get into gambling. My family has a history of gambling addiction, and I knew that I didn’t want to even look down that path, so I never put myself in that position. Unfortunately, gambling found me anyway, and I fell into it hard. Maybe if I hadn’t been so afraid of it, I could have learned restraint, but there’s no way to know now. I’m madly in love with it, and every time I lose, it only makes me want more, because there’s always a chance of turning things around. I’m actually not half-bad, now that I know the rules of my favorite games. I’ve come up with a system, and I know everyone says that, but most of the people who say it are thousands—or even hundreds of thousands—of dollars in debt, whereas I always keep myself in the black. I have a special savings account of money that I don’t touch. It doesn’t matter how close I get to losing everything else, that money is for food and shelter, and I’ve held firm on that. That doesn’t mean my life has been safe and happy. I’ve certainly had some problems, especially with sore losers who think that they’re entitled to live their own lives free from consequences. It’s hard to disabuse them of the idea that they won when they’re holding the scary end of a gun against my temple. I’ve recently become immersed in the shadier side of gambling, to which the authorities either turn a blind eye, or can’t even find. I’ve just been going deeper and deeper, playing games with higher and higher stakes. I’ve recently discovered the most mysterious and unusual game of them all. Bottom of the rabbit hole, I call it. The people who play it, though...they call it Vulpeculiar.

There’s a family game I remember playing as a kid called Catch Phrase. I don’t remember the rules, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s just the game disc for Vulpeculiar that reminds me of it. Only 121 people can play in the world, and the only time someone new can join is if someone quits while they’re in the black. This is hard to do, because if you’re in the red, you can’t choose to play. Only someone else can select you as an opponent. It’s a game of chance. You choose who you want to play against, and how much to bet. Then you squeeze the button. You either win, or you lose, and the only strategy is to decide to quit while you’re ahead. When you lose—and you will lose—if you can’t pay with money or collateral, you pay with your soul. You’ll be sucked into the disc, where you’re conscious, and totally at the mercy of the corporeal players. They can give you a chance to win back your freedom, or they can ignore your slot, and play against someone else. The guy who got me into this mess is probably best described as my frenemy. I guess he figured it would be easy to convince me to help him cheat. It’s a two-man job. If I hold the disc, and he squeezes the button, the game is confused about who the player is. If he loses, the round will be disqualified, and nothing will happen. But if he wins, it will pay out into our supposed joint account. Of course, he betrayed me, and never gave me access to those funds, so I’ve decided to screw him over too. I let go of the disc at the very last second, dooming him to losing after betting the sum of every player’s debt against the “dealer”, which he could never hope to pay. He’s sucked into the disc, and I realize I’m the last corporeal player left. It has to end here. The game is evil, and I’m the only one who can stop it. I bet the pot too. It’s over a billion dollars, so I assume that I’ll be sucked in, and leave no slots open for new players. I was wrong. Not only do I win, but the other 120 slots suddenly open up. I think I just killed everyone.

Microstory 1559: The Point of Faith

< > Table of Contents

Prompt

My teacher told us that every day was a gift, and my friend’s parents flipped out about it, because they detected a religious leaning that none of the students noticed.

Botner

They were living in church and told us all that we would burn in hell if we didn’t do the same. I went back to school and pulled one of my friends aside and told him that there was a chance we would go to hell if we didn’t accept Jesus Christ into our hearts. I don’t even remember what his response was. I found out later that he had taken his own life. I was so angry. He was one of my good friends, and I had told him the truth. I’d said it with a lot of conviction, too. Now, I hadn’t learned a thing about the Church. I didn’t know what we were supposed to believe. I didn’t have the gospel. I didn’t know how to speak the faith into his life. All I had was a real, legitimate chance at eternal damnation, and I didn’t understand the mechanics of that. I didn’t see why I couldn’t just change my mind, just change religions if I needed to. Well, I did. I gave up Catholicism. This is one of those stories that I am glad that I have. I am glad that my heart was pure, and I found an answer to my question before it was too late. I am glad that I had enough common sense to take responsibility for my actions. I am glad that I took my friend’s death seriously. I am glad...

Conclusion

...that I’ve given up my superstitions. I don’t know why my friend killed himself, if it had anything to do with what I told him. But I’ve decided I can relieve myself of the guilt. We all make our own choices in the world. Sure, I might have influenced his actions, but I didn’t tell him what to do, and I didn’t purport to be some kind of authority on the matter. It’s true that there’s a chance hell is real, and that has been the case since before I came into the picture, but the degree to which he accepted this was his own decision to make. I move on with my life after this, still without a certain answer to the question, and you know what? Things have turned out okay. I look around at my religious peers, and I don’t feel like my life is any better or worse than theirs. They think they’re safer than me, because they’re doing all these things with their faith, predicated upon the possibility that it’s all true. They think I’m at more of a risk, because I don’t believe. But what if what they believe is also wrong? What if, at the end of our lives, I’ll be judged more favorably. Maybe God wants us to not believe, and it’s the believers who are in trouble. You don’t know. You don’t know. The most likely outcome is that we all turn out to be wrong, and I say that’s fine. At least, I say that there is nothing we can do about it. The reality is that a religious person having faith in their own faith is no more reasonable than a heathen like me having faith in themselves, or in other people. It’s all a crapshoot, because the point of faith is that you can’t ever be sure, and no one else can either. So believe, don’t believe, it doesn’t matter. The chances of you being right or wrong cannot change, no matter what you do. All you can really do is try to be a good person, and hope to leave the world a little better than it was when you found it.