Saturday, December 24, 2016

Rogue Possession: Winning (Part V)

“How did you find me?” Gilbert asked. Neither of them were making any effort to hurt the other, but they were careful about maintaining a healthy distance.
The Weaver held up the hilt of a bladeless knife. “This allows me to track teleportations.”
“That could come in handy,” Gilbert said. “Why don’t I hold onto that for you?”
“I want my Apprentice back.”
“Well, you can’t have him. Here’s something that you need to understand. I’ve been struggling with my purpose my entire life. All along, even with tons of money, I always felt like a loser. Then the world of salmon and choosers falls into my lap. All I could think when I encountered them was, man, I wish I were like them. I wish I could get some control over things. Well now that’s what I have. Now I have real power. I was the President of the United States for four years, and that wasn’t even enough for me. That was first grade table tennis. I want Wimbledon. I want a win.”
“You want to take over the world?”
“Nothing so pedestrian. I want to change the world. I want to fix it.”
“Well you’re not going to be able to accomplish that with the Apprentice’s body, I can guarantee it.”
“Why not?”
“He’s still young, but I see something in him. In his eyes, the way he looks at others. He’s...he’s dangerous.”
“How so?”
“He seems to feel no empathy for others. He’s probably a psychopath. He’s destined to hurt people. I know that, when you possess people, you adopt properties of their personality. You can’t stay good, and keep his body. Besides the fact that such a thing is morally objectionable on its own, the longer he remains in your possession, the worse you’ll be.”
“How is it that you know so much about me?”
“Did I say destiny earlier? I meant future circumstance. He’s not simply bound to turn out bad, he’s known to become bad.”
“Oh my God, if he’s a bad person then why the hell are you teaching him how to use your temporal power?”
“I was hoping to adjust the future by showing him kindness. I cannot do that if you do not return him to me.”
“Well, you’re not wrong about me being corrupted by my possessions, but I’m still the one in control. I can make him better. I can do whatever the opposite of corruption is to him.”
“I cannot take that risk, and I cannot let you continue.” She wasn’t backing down.
“That hilt can track me even when I jump through time?”
“The Apprentice never learned to time travel, but yes.”
“I think I can figure it out. I do it all the time, in my own way.”
“But again, I’ll always find you.”
“That’s why you’ll have to die.”
“And you say you think you’re not becoming too corrupted.”
“This is pure logic. It’s all about survival. You understand.” Gilbert, using one of the Apprentice’s powers, apported a full knife of his own to his hand, and approached the Weaver.”
“My dear sir,” came a voice Gilbert didn’t know. “Could I ask you to not do that?”
“What?”
The man approached the gaslight and showed himself. He was dressed in an all-white suit and a bow tie. He had wild high-standing white hair. Only two people in the world ever looked like that. One of them was Albert Einstein—who was a teenager at this point in history—and the other was Samuel Clemens, otherwise known as Mark Twain. He spoke in an unusual cadence, slowing down and speeding up, carefully choosing his words, as true writers do. His voice was gritty and older than the man speaking it. “I was hoping to dissuade you from harming this woman.”
Gilbert let his arm drop to his side. He was curious, more than anything. “I know you.”
“Well...if you two are time travelers, which is how I understand it, you may know me better than I know myself.”
“Mark Twain,” the Weaver said.
“I prefer Samuel Clemens for the story of my own life. That’s Clemens, with an e.”
“You do not seem surprised at meeting two time travelers.”
Samuel shrugged. “You may not be the first. Who knows?” It was unclear whether he was joking or not. “What I do know is that no good can come from murdering this woman. You may disagree with each other, but you both have the right to live. I suggest you leave it as this...and part ways.”
“He has something I need,” the Weaver insisted. “Someone,” she clarified.
“It sounds like you’re not going to get it. I suggest you take what you can get, which is your life, and hope that it works out.”
The Weaver gave Gilbert this look, like she wasn’t really going to let it go. She was planning on finishing this once and for all when they were out of sight of the human. “If I have no choice...”
“This has to end now,” Gilbert said. He really was being massively corrupted. Donald Trump was bad, but this guy was violent, and his urges were really itching to come out. Gilbert couldn’t help himself. He lifted the knife again and prepared to plunge it into the Weaver’s chest.
An arm appeared and held his own at bay.
“Mateo?”
Mateo Matic still had to use a considerable amount of strength to pull Gilbert’s arm all the way back, and wrestle the weapon from his grip. “Hello, old friend.”
“You look older,” Gilbert pointed out. “Much older.”
“Heh,” Mateo said. “Time, right?”
“What year is it for you.”
“It’s supposed to be 2369, but I’m on a diversion because I need your help for a mission. Actually, I need the Apprentice’s body, and your mind, and I need it before you’re more fully corrupted.”
While Gilbert thought through the ramifications of going to a future he did not understand, Mateo casually greeted one of the most famous authors in history.
“Time is of the essence here. We have a short window when you’re powerful enough to help me but not quite as much of an asshole as you’re going to become.”
“If you know how bad I get, then maybe I should leave this body right now. Maybe I should find a way to stop possessing people altogether, even if it kills me.”
“You cannot do that,” Mateo informed him. “I don’t love the future you create, but it’s the one I know, and I don’t want you making another one. Come with me now, and do some good while you still can. If you kill this woman, though, all hope will be lost. For you, and for me.”
That was a pretty convincing argument. It would be nice to go back to where it all started; when he was both helping, and being helped by, Mateo. “I’m all in. Anything for a friend. I’ve never been to 2369 before. Do they still have bourbon?”
“You won’t be going quite as far as 2369. You’re needed the better part of three decades earlier. And I’m sorry to say that I won’t be able to be there with you either. I have to get back to my own time. You won’t believe what it cost me just to get a diversion trip back here. It’s almost worse than what Dave charged me for a simple Sanctuary ferry.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but how will I know what to do if you’re not there?”
“You’ll figure it out. First, we have to get there, though. I’ll need you to teleport us to The Great Pyramid of Giza.”
Gilbert took Mateo by the arm, and teleported them away, despite protests from the Weaver. “Why would we need to go there?”
“Stargazer?” Mateo asked. They were standing in what must have been the benbenet of the Great Pyramid. A small window showed the night sky, but it didn’t look like the regular starry heavens. It was a strange, and even somewhat unsettling, mix of swirly colors. This was no normal place.
A middle-aged balding man replied in a Franco-British accent, “I am, yes. I was not expecting passengers. You know that you don’t actually need to be in Aarukhet to access Shimmer, right?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Gilbert said. “Slow down. I don’t understand what’s happening. What is a Aarukhet? What is Shimmer?”
Mateo ignored him for the moment. “I need you to send this man to Worlon at...” He pulled out a slip of paper. “Let’s see, Leona wrote it down for me.” He turned it around a couple times, trying to find the right scribble among an army of them, all written in different directions. “Zero-point-two-zero-four-four-one-six-c.” He handed the piece of paper to The Stargazer. It’s very important that he arrive on that exact day. If the calculations are off by even—”
The Stargazer dismissed him. “Yes, yes, I know how relativity works, thank you very much.”
While the Stargazer was adjusting his sextant, Mateo finally turned his attention back to Gilbert, who was feeling very confused and left out. “This pyramid was built to focus travel to other planets. Like the man said, normally, you don’t have to actually be here to access the hyperstream they call Shimmer. But that’s because most people are trying to get there instantly. I need you on a delay, and I know that your current body can’t jump through time, which is why the Stargazer has to do it for you.”
“Okay that makes sense...as much as anything in our world could possibly make sense, at least.”
“I’m ready,” the Stargazer said.
Mateo looked at his watch. “Perfect timing. I can’t stay here much longer. There’s one more thing you need to remember, though. When you see the one-eared dog—” Mateo suddenly disappeared
“I sure hope that wasn’t important,” the Stargazer said unsympathetically.
“I appreciate your support,” Gilbert responded sarcastically.
“This is gonna hurt a little bit,” he held the sextant up to Gilbert’s eyes. “You’ll get used to it after a few years, though.”
“A few years!” But it was too late. The Stargazer activated the temporal object and sent him on his way. What both of the others failed to mention was that the delay did not abate consciousness. Gilbert was entirely aware of the passage of time throughout the entire course of the journey. It took him 450 years to reach his destination, and he felt every second of it. Upon arriving on another planet for the first time in his lives, Gilbert Boyce found himself to be extremely pissed off. That anger never really went away, and even after finishing his “mission” and returning to Earth, his rage persisted. Most of it was directed towards Mateo Matic.

Friday, December 23, 2016

Microstory 480: Floor 5 (Part 2)

Mail Sorter: What is it, Mail Runner?
Mail Runner: Huh, what?
Mail Sorter: I can tell you’re thinking about something. That’s the second time you’ve compulsively pushed the cubbies against the back wall. You push ‘em back any further and they’ll end up in the next room.
Mail Runner: Oh, I’m just anxious. I’ve spent every day since getting this job running mail up to the floors endlessly. Now that I don’t have anything to do, my resolve is stronger than ever.
Mail Sorter: What resolve might that be?
Mail Runner: I think we should quit?
Mail Sorter: Both of us? At the same time?
Mail Runner: Yes, exactly at the same time. We should walk out of here right now and never come back.
Mail Sorter: That would cause problems.
Mail Runner: For who? For us? No, we’ll be gone, and frankly, I don’t care about these people...or what they think of me.
Mail Sorter: You should. Every choice you make leads to consequences, good or bad. You can’t just walk out of your job. You have to give then two weeks notice.
Mail Runner: Mail Sorter, this is a terrible job. They don’t deserve two weeks notice. They don’t deserve two seconds notice!
Mail Sorter: I’m not talking about what’s good for the company. This can have an effect on your future. It is common practice to provide your current employer with two weeks notice. If you applied for a new job, and were given an offer, it would be perfectly appropriate to inform them that you would not be able to begin work once you accept the position. They build that time into their search projections. And this is important to understand, because you have to know that all legitimate businesses behave this way, and if you subvert these manners, you will only make yourself look bad.
Mail Runner: I heard that employers only call previous employers to confirm dates of employment and list of responsibilities.
Mail Sorter: That may be, but bear in mind that we’re dealing with humans. They say what they want. You piss off your employer enough, they could make things tough. You remember Mick Daniel? He quit without giving notice. He just left his badge on the table and never returned. I’ve kept track of him on social media. He’s been out of work ever since.
Mail Runner: I didn’t know that.
Mailer Sorter: This may be the worst place to work ever, but potential employers don’t want to hear that about your last job. No matter how true it is, that will only cause them to think that you’re not loyal, or a team player. You have to finesse your way into a job by simultaneously making it look like you like your old job, but also that you’re ready for something better. It’s a tricky dance. I can teach you. Let’s do this thing right.
Mail Runner: So you’re in?
Mail Sorter: I’m in.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Microstory 479: Floor 6 (Part 2)

Trainer: Oh, dude, I didn’t see ya there.
New Writer: Yeah, I got lost. This is my first day, and I don’t really know where I’m supposed to go.
Trainer: We’re on lockdown, though. You shouldn’t have been let through the lobby.
New Writer: Yeah, I was actually here about a half hour before that announcement came on the speakers. I’m really lost. I assumed the guard would make me be escorted, but I guess they were too busy to worry about those kinds of things either way.
Trainer: Well, you can’t leave now, but I could tell you what floor you’ll be on. What’s your job?
New Writer: I’m the new writer?
Trainer: Oh, you’re the replacement. Man, you couldn’t have come at a worst time in general, ya know because of all the window problems, but it’s even worse because you didn’t get to meet the guy before you.
New Writer: Why, will he be a tough act to follow? Is everyone gonna keep comparing me to him, or something?
Trainer: No, quite the opposite. Well, I guess they will compare you, but you have a pretty strong advantage against him. He was—and keep in mind that this is coming from a personal trainer, I know my stereotypes—kind of a douchebag. No, scratch that, he was a pretty big douchebag. I don’t know why they hired him.
New Writer: Was he really that bad?
Trainer: Yeah, you would think I wouldn’t know him that well, but he only came here to talk. He didn’t even ever workout. He just sat on one of the machines to tell me about his life story. Apparently his portfolio was this blog he still writes for. He writes paragraph-long stories, and posts one every single day. Guy was damned proud of it too. Thought he was the next Stephen King. Along with publishing the next great American novel, he says he’s gonna be working on his website for fifty-two years...but, I don’t know where he came up with that number.
New Writer: There are fifty-two weeks every year. Maybe he just likes squares?
Trainer: Oh, that musta been it. Honestly, I love getting to know my clients, but he was the kind of guy who just never. Shut. Up. Which is ironic, I know, ‘cause here I am goin’ on and on.
New Writer: Oh, it’s fine. I like listening to people talk as well. I already know what my own thoughts are. What I need is to understand how other people work.
Trainer: That’s...that’s really beautiful, man.
New Writer: Thanks. They’re just words. I’m not here for the next great American novel. I’m just happy to have a job with benefits.
Trainer: Yeah, I feel ya. But hey, I thought they were stuck at a hiring freeze, because of the whole window thing.
New Writer: That’s what I heard too. Everything’s becoming more and more automated though. Maybe it was a clerical error?
Trainer: That wouldn’t surprise me. Between you and me, I don’t see this company last through the end of the year. In fact, if the place is still up and running on December thirty-first, I’ll give you my last paycheck.
New Writer: Deal.

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Microstory 478: Floor 7 (Part 2)

Quality Manager: God, grant me the serenity to—
QA Associate: Dear God, grant me the strength to not slap this guy in the face.
Quality Manager: What’s your problem?
QA Associate: That’s, like, the fifth time you’ve said that in an hour. Could you do that somewhere else?
Quality Manager: This is my desk, I have every right to be here.
QA Associate: Not if you’re going to disrupt my nap to spout a bunch of religious nonsense.
Quality Manager: It isn’t nonsense. The Serenity Prayer is—
QA Associate: It’s nothing.
Quality Manager: Would you stop interrupting me!
QA Associate: It is nothing. It is an inspirational quote. It was not created to inspire people to feel a certain way, or to improve themselves. The guy who came up with it did so with the intention of being inspirational. That is, he didn’t want to inspire change, but to make people take note of how inspirational he was. He did it for the same reason any human does anything: ego.
Quality Manager: That’s a cynical viewpoint, and I refuse to live in the dirt with you.
QA Associate: Have you ever paid attention to the words you’re saying?
Quality Manager: What do you mean? I know it by heart, of course I’ve paid attention.
QA Associate: No, I mean really paid attention. I’m not saying it doesn’t reflect how you actually feel, but have you analyzed the message, and really tried to understand it? Or was it taught to you once, and you just accept it, because you were told that it would help?
Quality Manager: I—I guess...
QA Associate: Do you know what a chant is? Lots of Eastern religions use them. They often hold no semantic meaning, if they have any meaning at all. They call out the names of their gods, or they just repeat some random string of sounds. They’re not trying to convey an idea, which makes it non-language. What they’re doing is centering themselves on a rhythm, so that they can clear their mind of worldly anxiety, expand it to accept the divine, and learn discipline. It doesn’t matter what they’re saying; only what they’re thinking about while they’re saying it. The Serenity Prayer is no different, because most people don’t consider it deeply on its own. They just use it to escape the stress of reality’s current moment.
Quality Manager: What’s your point?
QA Associate: My point is that chants were invented before soap and toilet paper. We’ve evolved since then. We now know that there is a much better way of reaching zen.
Quality Manager: And what might that be?
QA Associate: Sleep. Now shut up so I can get back to naptime.

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Microstory 477: Floor 8 (Part 2)

New Machinist: Hey, Old Machinist, could you help me clean the LC-10J?
Old Machinist: I keep trying to tell you people that I’m new here. I didn’t have anything to do with the windows. I don’t know anything.
New Machinist: Uh, yeah...but didn’t you have these machines over at the other building?
Old Machinist: No, we were still using 10Gs. And I’m sorry for blowing up at you. Yes, I could figure out how to clean it, I’m sure it’s not that different. But why would you want to? We’re on lockdown. About the only benefit to that is that we’re not expected to do any work.
New Machinist: I know, but I’m bored out of my mind. I was working fourteen hours on an oil rig back when those were a bigger deal. Idle hands, and all that...
Old Machinist: So were you let go? Because of the push towards renewables?
New Machinist: No, I quit because of renewables.
Old Machinist: Ah, yes, you could see the writing on the wall.
New Machinist: Well, the thing about the writing on the wall—which makes it different than which way the wind is blowing—is that someone has to write it. Then, for it to have any impact, enough other people have to read it. If only a few people take notice then it doesn’t really mean anything. The only way the future survives is if we protect it. Over the last several years, I consistently grew ashamed of my work. We were holding progress back for the entire world, and our logic behind it was that such work was our livelihood. And that’s a very good reason; one that’s pretty hard to argue with. I used it for years. Then at some point, I had to realize that the only way Big Oil stays in business is if guys like me keep working for it. I had to take a stand. I had to be strong enough to risk losing everything. And it worked. Here I am, in a better job with shorter hours, and dental. I went from sucking up oil from the ocean to oiling up machines that are slowly learning to replace me. I guess I’ve not come far when you put it like that.
Old Machinist: You’ve done better than me. I’ve never taken a stand on anything. I’ve never risked anything. I don’t know what it’s like to be ashamed, because I’ve never allowed myself to be in a position to make any major mistakes. I’ve never really lived.
New Machinist: You’re young. You have time.
Old Machinist: That’s right, I am young. I’m a millennial, and I know when I’m not wanted. Like you said, these machines are replacing us, so why would I stick around?
New Machinist: You’re going to quit?
Old Machinist: I don’t think I have a choice. I think I need to go back to school.

Monday, December 19, 2016

Microstory 476: Floor 9 (Part 2)

Product Developer 9: All right, Product Developer 9, you can do this. You are a strong, powerful, white man. You own this world. You’ve been through a lot, and you’ve earned your place within the organization. You deserve this, more than anyone. No, it is not too early to ask for a promotion. People die every day, and a lockdown is the perfect time because he won’t be able to leave. And when will you get another chance? The Head of Development doesn’t come downstairs every day. You have to do this. You belong in a management position, and no one can take that away from you. Now say it. Yes, again, say it. I am the creator. I know beauty, I am beauty. Art lives in my soul. Ive earned what I have, and am entitled to more. [...] Crap!
Senior Product Developer: That’s right, that’s what I was just doing. Sorry to be a party pooper, but it’s your fault for not checking the stalls before undergoing your daily affirmations. I just couldn’t stay here any longer, they get more cringe-worthy over time. Don’t be embarrassed, though. We’ve all heard them before. I’m not sure if you know how loud you are, but it’s never been a secret. Kind of like how Product Developer 4 is afraid of carousel animals, but not actual horses.
Product Developer 9: Oh my God...
Senior Product Developer: I know, right? I guess it’s because they go in circles and never get tired. If I may be so bold, I would like to offer my advice. As a strong, black man—who has actually earned a place in leadership, and didn’t just have college fraternity connections—I feel qualified to suggest you go ahead and wait on your little speech.
Product Developer 9: Why? You afraid they’ll listen to me, and choose to replace you?
Senior Product Developer: No, honey. I want you to succeed, which is why you should wait until after I quit and accept the job at Snowglobe.