never could be any other way
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Never could be any other way
a novelby
Maximillian Quinn
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Crow Bird Productions, 2011
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We're on the side of the angels. People want open, competitive markets.
- Jeffery Skilling, Former CEO, Enron
When you reach equilibrium in biology, youre dead If I ask you whether your brain is an
equilibrium system, all I have to do is ask you not to think of elephants for a few minutes, and
you will know it isnt an equilibrium system.
- Arnold Mandell, quoted in James Gleicks Chaos.
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Crow
Tusk
The Wizard, Part One: Logos
The Wizard, Part Two: Blackbird
Moon
Everythings a Circle, but not a Perfect One
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Crow
Why don't I tell you how I came to be? You see, my father was born a woman, at least body-
wise, and had long been unsatisfied with his life, so he looked into a sex change thinking that he
might be man born in a woman's body. Well, lo and behold, he was half right. After intensive
therapy and very many self-help books, he realized that he was actually not only a man but also a
female, and thus, in his true essence, he was a hermaphrodite caged in the female form. This
elated him since he was already a woman, he was half fulfilled - he needed only to procure some
male body parts, and snip, clip, and stitch, my Dad would be complete.
Well, even though this was way back before the City had its wall, medical science was really
good if you had the needed flow, so the doctors saw no problem accommodating my father
because she was rich and had sufficient insurance. They ordered a set of male genitalia from a
supplier (extra-large because psychologists projected that Dad's inner male self would have some
issues to resolve and suggested that a gratifying penile length would certainly booster his self
confidence), and with a few whiffs of anesthesia, a few swipes of the scalpel, and a couple of
sutures, Dad was his complete hermaphrodite self.
But he was also very narcissistic, and shortly after the operation, he fell in love with himself
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and wanted to have his own child. He had the ovaries and uterus after all, he figured he might as
well put them to some use. But a problem arose - given the location of Dad's separate genital
structures, he could not make love to himself (the penis could not reach the vagina because they
were neighbors). Once again he consulted the doctors. They toyed with the idea of relocating his
penis in order to make physical love possible, but Dad felt this solution to be rather
dehumanizing and potentially socially awkward. So instead, Dad elected to have himself
artificially inseminated with his own sperm. The doctors thought this would work, so they
pumped his left side full of hormones and ovulation producing drugs while his right side had a
rendezvous with a jar.
Well TV caught on to this, and Dad appeared on several talk shows and wrote a book, and
someone stole the jar (so Dad had to remasturbate), and all the while his left side was bloated
and cranky, and to make matters worse, the TV coverage got a bunch of maniacs whooped up
and pounding some thunder-book they all used to read aloud from while spitting nickels and
pissing fire or making some such display way back then. So they went to court and, an injunction
here, an injunction there, and the whole matter had to be postponed and settled by the law.
The lawyers for the side in favor of not allowing anything stipulated that Dad being both
father and mother of a child reeked of incest and therefore was illegal. Dad's lawyers countered
with the argument that a) a relationship must consist of at least two people, b) incest is a
relationship between at least two family members, and c) while Dad may well be his own family,
he was only one person and hence no incestual relationship was involved in his having his child,
thank you very much. That logic got the thunder people shaking and quaking and quoting, and,
believe it or not, the judge caved and ruled that Dad couldn't have his own child. Well, that made
Dad sad, and he went out on a drinking binge. But his left side just couldn't hold its liquor like
his right side, and the next morning, on the other side of a night of love, Dad woke up pregnant -
with me.
Now, I never actually met my Dad. Yea, boo-hoo, poor me, youre probably thinking my Dad
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died giving me birth and left me alone in the world.
Not quite. Its just not that simple.
You see, this was before the City had its wall. Way back then. So, how come Im not some
crinkly lump tucked in a corner somewhere wearing wrap-around shades and grinning at
anything in a skirt? Why am I still so young and vigorous? Well, its because my Dad was a
smarty. He pieced together that the world wasnt as shiny and bright as people were hearing and
that the Great Dilapidation was lurching right over the horizonline all set to spring upon the
world with one mighty leap and stomp, stomp, stomp what was just wasnt gonna be.
Thats no time to have a kid, obviously, so Dad took a precaution he had me surgically
removed and freeze-dried for safe keeping. (Freeze-dried in this instance is a non-technical
way of saying he had me preserved.) He kept me in a little box (actually, a locket) on the mantle.
Then he made a movie about himself so that I would know who he was and how I came to be.
But he wasnt much a filmmaker, unfortunately he propped the camera up and then sat down in
front a big, big bright window, so to me hes pretty much a roly-poly silhouette (he doesnt seem
to have missed dinner all that often). He told me about himself and how I came to be. He was in
his penthouse, and the Great Dilapidation was erupting all around (it came even quicker than he
thought it would), and every-so-often hed take the camera over to the window and you can see
the mobs of folks running amok, burning, looting, shooting, blood and guts, tears, and smoke the
world over, then a couple bullets tag the window, and thats that for window gazing its back to
shadow-Dad and the camera propped up on a coffee table, and its sad because Dad seems
genuinely moved to be watching the world go bye, so much so, that towards the end of the
movie, hes just sitting there repeating my name Crow, Crow, Crow (with some sniffles and sobs
interspersed). You hear them hammering away at his door, a big crunch, and footsteps and
shouting. Theyre coming for him.
And what does Dad do? He doesnt panic. He doesnt cry, shriek, or sob. He gets real, real
bright while saying my name till the crowd comes to a stand still, you can see their shadows and
theyre all covering their eyes, and flash no more Dad.
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Then someone knocks over the camera and thats the end.
Dad named me Crow. Dad climbed a giant hill when he was a woman and said it was the most
beautiful place he had ever seen. He said he sat on that hill during a fiery sunset and watched a
flock of doves sail down from the clouds, appearing as little points of white light and then
becoming doves, their alabaster feathers capturing the brilliance of the setting sun in pastel hues
of red, orange, and yellow. They sang to him in a chorus rivaling that of any castrated boys'
choir. Unfortunately, he said that there must have been a dove season or something like that
because suddenly there were men with guns and for the next half hour Dad watched all of those
birds except one get blown out of the sky and crash to earth in clouds of feathers, screeching like
a boys' choir being castrated. The one lucky survivor bird, though, fluttered through the air
without a care singing its happy song, its happy song falling like a veil over the screams of the
dying. In that sound, in that blend of music and misery, Dad said that he for the first time knew
himself, and the self knowledge gained that evening eventually led to me.
But he didnt want to name me Dove or Pigeon, so he named me Crow. Of course, when I
emerged into the world, people wanted to give me a real name and actually make it like two or
three words (no one knows Dads last name). And they did. For my first few years I had this
stupid fucking name that I just dropped when I saw a special about myself on TV and learned my
real name. I owe that much to TV. Its where I learned about Dad.
Still, though, how did I come to be? With it safely in the past, consumers wanted to relive the
Dilapidation, so the TV people scurried about digging up whatever they could find that would
offer a direct taste of the Big D. Dad was only one of about a million people with a camera
rolling during the last days, and his is just one of those million or so movies to survive. Whoever
stole the camera (after knocking it over) buried it in the ground afterwards, and there it remained
with a mish-mash of other ill-gotten goods (but not the little box that contained me) for years on
end until the time when the City people decided to build a chain-link fence around the City wall
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to prevent the Outies (the people living on the other side of the Wall) from vandalizing it. Lucky
for me, they sited a post for the fence right where the camera was buried. It didnt take long for
Dads movie to hit the airwaves and play over and over and over and over and over and over and
over until some TV exec, seeing the part in the film in which Dad tells me that I'm the little guy
in the box on the mantle, decides to stage a contest to see who can find me.
Heres his thinking (I know this because many years later he came to me looking for a job):
He thought Dad was delusional (with the world ending and all) and that there was no me. So he
figured he could stage the contest because: a) there were plenty of losers in the City whod pay
(yes pay) to be in the contest, b) there were many more second-level losers whod pay (yes
pay) to watch the contest, and c) there were plenty of companies whod pay (of course pay) to
advertise to any losers available. And since I was complete fiction, no one would ever find me,
hed never have to pay out any prize money, and the contest could go on forever (or until its
ratings dropped below the death line, at which time, he said, hed have staged something or other
to make the show go out in a blaze of glory).
Good plan but the worlds cruel.
And sometimes quite violent.
You see, a few years before they found Dads camera when digging that fence post, the City
decided that it needed a circus. Now, clowns werent hard to come by, but animals were whod
seen an animal outside of a nature show in eons? The circus company sent scientists and Guards
all around the globe to find some (some neat ones, not just rats and mice) and they were pretty
much striking out until they went far away, and there, way far away, they dug up some bones,
scraped some chunks into a test tube, shook it up and poured the contents into a machine, waited
a few months, and out came these big, floppy-nosed beasts called elephants (something else I
learned from TV). The circus people paraded the elephants through the streets and into the circus
and it was all a big success. People filled the big top day after day to see real live elephants. All
was gold.
But then: there was this family which (like any family) had a nanny from the Outside. Now
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this nanny always used to wear a little box on a chain around her neck because she thought it was
magic and would protect her from getting in trouble with the City Guards and shit like that. The
family assumed the box contained some superstitious hokey-pokey because she was from the
other side of Wall where people believed in junk like that. So, the family goes to the circus one
day and brings the nanny to keep tabs on the kids. Things are going fine and out come the
elephants and everyones cheering and taking pictures. Then one of the elephants, the biggest
elephant, loses it, kills his trainer and goes on a rampage. People stream out of the big top and
the elephant starts plowing through them. But the nanny, the nanny with the little locket around
her neck, whats she doing? She and the family she was with were some of the first people out of
the big top when the elephant burst out on to the street all they had to do was turn left or right
to get out of the way which is what they did except the nanny. No, the old bag turns towards
the elephant and freezes in her tracks. Ive seen this a thousand times on TV, and every time, no
matter how many times youve seen it, youre thinking to yourself Lady, get the fuck out of the
way, but thats not how it happens. She stands there, and (if you havent pieced this together yet
sheesh!) Im the one hanging around her neck, and its like she and I are going to stare down
this elephant or shes gonna pull some sort of karate and stop it in its tracks, or she thinks its
magic, the little box Im in and it will keep her safe and make the elephant go through her or
over or something.
The elephant, it didnt stomp her or anything like that. It just sort of gave a sideways thrust
with its head one of its teeth hit her and knocked her flat.
After that, the elephant ran into the center of the City and knocked over the Tree that was
there (and broke one of its teeth). By then though, the Guards had so filled it with lead that it
took only a couple more bullets to bring it to reason. And the City planted a new Tree and put a
glass box around it.
The family that had had the nanny went back to her body before the street cleaners came. One
of the kids thought the box around her neck was pretty and pitched a fit when pop said it was
time to go, so pop relented and gave her the box. Now, the box was locked, but the kid could
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have used a hammer or something to get it open fortunately, I dont think this kid was far
enough along to understand the concept behind boxes or hammers, so there I sat in her room
pegged to a cork board until Dads movie hits TV and then the pop, realizing what hes got,
starts dreaming up ideas for how I might best benefit his bank account. Along comes the contest.
Its easy money, and, well ,if you dont take the easy money, then youre just banging your head
against the hard money until youre up in smoke. So on the first day of the contest, the pop
swipes the locket from the kids room, marches down to the TV building, and wins the contest.
The TV exec is awash in red, the shows over, and Im proven to be real.
(I didnt hire the guy.)
But Im still not born. Famous, but not alive. But being famous meant that there was no shortage
of ladies stepping forward offering to finish me off, and thered be a movie and tie-ins the
standard fare. And it looked like itd work out that way, until someone with even more money
stepped in the WonderSlap Corporation. WonderSlap had cooked up yet another product to
revolutionize the world (innovative little buggers those people at WonderSlap). What was it
theyd developed? What product was just waiting to be launched? The Cunt Machine (I know, I
know. WonderSlap for years afterward spent millions trying to kill that little nickname. The
official name of the product was the Cybertronic Uterine Nurturing Device or the CUND
machine. It didnt take long for the consuming public to drop the D and add the T. You
see, again the world is cruel. WonderSlap certainly intended to come up with a better name, but I
arrived a little too early and caused them a dilemma they could either use me to debut their
product and get big splash, or they could spend the time to come up with a better name and let
me come to term in a woman or someone elses product (they werent the only ones looking to
get into the artificial birth market). Well, the fear that I may be born out of someone elses
product was the clincher, so WonderSlap made a grab for me, raced the product to market and
stuck with the engineers name for it (The thing of it is, though, who finally killed their war
against the term Cunt Machine? Me. Grown-up me working with their marketing branch. I said
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that Cunt Machine rolls off the tongue. Its easy to remember. Its a gift, guys. Embrace it.)). So
in I went, the timer was set, and a many months later, ding! I was done.
Being the first kid to pop out of a Cunt Machine made me an instant celeb. I grew up in the
public glare. No parents, but plenty of money (WonderSlap gave me a nice place to live in their
building). I got my picture on TV for being so special. A lot. But, on top of it all, Im a fricking
genius. You see, most people, having had such an extraordinary pre-birth life, would cash-in on
it and ride it out fat and happy until the public lost interest. And after that, theyd keep trying to
revive their fame to squeeze out every single penny. But not me. Being famous is basically like
being able to sing one song really well. The first few times people love it, but after that who
gives a fuck? It dawned on me early, while I was listening to some TV guy babble on about some
toy Id be pushing I realized that this schmoe brought nothing to the show except me. On his
own, he couldnt sell beer in a bar but he had me, and so he was raking it in. Im not the first
famous person to see the big picture; however, upon apprehending the situation, most famous
people try to run their own show (cut out the middle man, so to say) and they go on singing that
one song that nobody really wants to hear. Me I admired the guy. Why have an asset when you
can take a piece of someone elses? Why limit yourself?
So there I was, all of four years old and grinning away people thinking that some lump of
plastic is making me shine, but no, no, its not that. Its that Ive figured them out.
Leverage. Its the principle behind the oldest tool. If people know you make something out
of that. If they dont know you make them know you. If they need something offer them
something. If they dont need anything make them want something. These are simple rules that
I have lived by. When all the other kids were sweating away at school and seriously worrying
about being tossed over the Wall, me I coasted, first of all, because school was fucking easy,
and secondly because I knew that education was fucking useless content-wise, at least (the
morning after I took first prize in the Little Brainiac Science Fair, I was in the WonderSlap
marketing department telling them, first, to let the thing be called a Cunt Machine, and then
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Outie got in the City packing heat).
But, I never played this game. The idea that a guns going to get you something is a joke. Ive
always though that they just get in the way.
But then I started doing this thing called dreaming. I thought it was TV at first just real
strange late-night shit. Id see Dad (the roly-poly silhouette) and hed be telling me to get a gun,
that hed meant to leave me one but it had been stolen. I thought theyd dug up another tape hed
made but nobody else ever saw the show, and Id be asking and theyd be saying That wasnt
on TV. I brought all this up to my therapist and told him that I didnt think this was TV, and my
therapist had to hit the books, and then it was like Youre dreaming. And, dealing with the
therapist, he was kinda giddy because it was like wow! He found a dreamer. But, he didnt have
any answers for me, so I had to self-medicate. I basically, I just gave myself what the dreams
were asking for. A gun.
But the dreams didnt go away. (The Wizard was the only other guy I knew who dreamed. But
he led a complex life)
Now for the funny thing that happened:
One morning in March, I woke up in a sweat. Im used to sweating in bed, but not when I
sleeping peacefully by myself. But it wasnt peaceful my sleep, that is. It was like a strange TV
show playing over an over. (Another dream.) Id hear a pop that would almost wake me up. Then
the sky at sunset would fill with dots of lights, and then fire, and big ugly beasts running amok,
and me lost in the scramble. And then I had to go to work everyone did because we had to
work for aliens who took no shit and paid squat. Scared the piss out of me.
So later that morning, Im in a staff meeting with my feet up on big round table, receiving the
day's updates with my minions nattering on about this project and that project, and me acting the
part of the bored boss absent-mindedly staring out the window periodically nodding my head or
raising my eyebrows (never to anything in particular, but you got to keep up appearances), and
so we pass an hour or so until we get to the touchy subject. I could tell by the way they were
shuffling about and sniveling and letting me know what great ideas I had that this meeting was
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going to have a touchy subject something that for some reason they think Im going to so
deeply care about that the mere mentioning of it will send me into violent rage with desk
pounding, paper throwing, ultimata-making, and fist shaking and here it is:
This brings up a sensitive matter, Crow, so says a phone lying on the table.
What would that be?
Well, sir it concerns the new WonderSlap product
What are those guys making now? I say. Of course, I know what theyre making, and
everyone in the room (corporally and electronically) knows I know what theyre making because
I designed the campaign theyre getting ready to question, but I say it anyway just to hear the
reaction.
Well, sir. Theyre moving into the
Just tell me what the problem is, I say.
Silence. I have my face turned away from them. Im looking out the window at the sky, the
clouds, and buildings sparkling in the sun, and the Wall, and on TV Im seeing beautiful women
running along the beach shedding their clothes and drinking beer with a bonfire crackling away
and the orangy light dancing on their bodies, and Im not in the staff meeting anymore because
Im down by the shore with the women sipping a few brews circling the fire, the warmth on my
face.
Then pop.
Im back in the staff meeting, sitting up straight: What the hell was that?
What was what, sir.
That noise. That pop. Is something wrong with the phone?
We didnt hear anything, sir we mean, there could be something wrong with the phone...
probably a bad connection or a bad phone Theres probably something wrong with the
phone should we get another phone?
I shake my head. What were you talking about? That thing with the car.
The car, says the phone, Yes. The car. Maybe we should talk about it some other
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Just talk to me about the car.
Well, sir, says the phone, We, us and the people at WonderSlap, arent sure that the
Wizard is the best choice for its spokesmodel.
This is the sort of simpleminded bullshit I put up with all the time. Someones introducing a
new product and they want Big Splash. They talk about creating an entirely new campaign that
spellbinds the masses and makes them crave the product. So you give them that. You design a
campaign like no campaign before and so its, therefore, different. Well, nothing scares nobody
like different. So here you are, just before launch, and what do they want? The same old same
old. So Im tapping my fingertips together, readying my usual speech, locating the objects
(mugs, pen holders, etc.) that I can fling about the room, drawing together the main points of my
argument (a cars a fucking car, its buying it thats the thrill, therefore, you need to make people
thrilled about buying it), and choosing my off-color joke, and just as I stand up and clench my
hands into fists
I hear that damn pop again, and lose everything.
My hands fall to my sides. I just tell them that hey, Im homely as homely gets, and if a big
nosed no chin skinny bonerack like me can sell just about anything, then a bald stubby little pug
like the Wizard wont have a problem selling another damn car. Besides, weve put so much into
creating him.
And then I walk out.
I walk into my office and meet with my therapist.
Somethings bothering me, I say.
Tell, me about it, Crow.
Im not sure what it is.
"A woman perhaps?"
"No, that's not it. Why is it that every time a computer thinks I'm upset it assumes that a
woman must be involved? That's not it at all. Ive filled several latex sheaths recently."
"Fantastic then, Crow.
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That pop echoed in my head. It reminded me of something, but I couldn't remember what or
even describe it.
"What are you doing?" my therapist requested.
"I'm trying to remember something I can't name."
"Describe it to me, and I will name it."
I tried but I still couldn't recall anything about it. Just that pop. I couldnt tell if it existed or
had really happened. It was just something I had experienced (I guess). I explained all this to my
therapist. "What's wrong with me?" I said.
Are you dreaming again? He was getting a little excited saying that.
I think so, I said, There was some weird shit on about aliens last night. taking over the
world, you know how that goes. Im pretty sure it wasnt TV.
It sounds like a dream.
"What a dream." I put my hands behind my head and stared at the wall. "The sky filled up
with spaceships, and millions of aliens came out of them, big ugly aliens who wanted people to
work for them.
"That's very upsetting, Crow. Is that what you couldn't remember?"
"How should I know?" I stared at the wall.
Silence.
I thought it was TV, I said.
I dont believe there was any program like that on last night, Crow. Though, there is a movie
out about aliens that you might like. Maybe thats what your dream was telling you. I can give
you the showtimes. Or else, maybe you should visit Spaceland amusement park. Make your
dream come true.
I nodded. Or maybe I should just go buy something.
Or maybe you should just go buy something. Crow, you work so hard. You give so selflessly
to your company and the general economic well-being of the City. Thats quite a burden. Youre
a hero for taking it on. Perhaps, though, you should take a few hours off. Buy something for
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yourself. You deserve that much.
Buy something, I said.
Exactly. Treat yourself. Give yourself something. You deserve it.
"Is that so?" I nodded. And then left.
I didnt go buy anything, though. I had already bought it.
I went home and put on black pants and my favorite big black coat and my lucky yellow
boots. I went to talk to the Wizard. He was lazing about in his apartment muttering about how
much he hated everything. Not good company for a man in my state of mind. And with a gun. I
took off.
Then I just walked around with the gun in hand, occasionally twirling it around my index
finger.
I put on my sunscreen and looked up and saw the sun's swinging phallus going left and right
like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. I came upon the City's Tree and pressed my face up
against the glass box surrounding it. The birdies fluttered around inside, skipping from branch to
branch, going wherever the little laser projectors sent them. The speakers emitted ruffling noises
and all the other sounds of birdies preening and cooing, spreading their wings and pecking the
ground for hologram seeds. They even fought over the feed in quaint 3-D posturing scuffles. I
left my face print on the glass and someone had to come and wipe it off. A Guard walked up to
me. He told me to read the sign forbidding face pressing next time. He had a gun, too. But he
didnt see mine.
I needed more sunscreen.
The bullets jingled in my pocket.
I dropped the soda can in the garbage bin and it said thank you. I said it was welcome. Then
the guy came to collect the cans. He had a gun, too.
I sat down by the river and the fresh green water. I listened to the river flow and the traffic go
by and the road stretching over the water and the horns
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Blllllllllllllluuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!!! I sniffed the nozzle of the gun. It smelled like
metal. A car backfired. I threw a bullet in the river. I didn't see it go down. The sun's ding-dong
said noontime. I went for lunch and put it on plastic and unwrapped it from plastic and ate it with
plastic utensils off of plastic plates and then put the plastic in the plastic plastic garbage bin with
everyone else's plastic (it said thank you). I waited until the plastic man came and took the
plastic to the plastic plant to be made into more plastic. He had a gun, too. A Guard told me I
wasnt supposed to stand next to the plastic recycling bin. I clapped. I went to work. I jumped up
and down. I waved the gun. The security guy said hi Crow. I thanked him. He was fat. He had a
gun. I went to my office. My admin said hi Crow. I thanked her. She said I had a nice gun. I
thanked her again. She asked why I had it. I said it was time. She said for what. I said to get a
gun. I turned on my therapist.
"Welcome back, Crow. What did you buy?"
I fired and fired and fired. Crack, fizzle and pop and sparks dancing all around that system
sputtering in shock, and me laughing and laughing and laughing. I drew in a deep breath of
smoke and gunpowder fumes. The last bullet I fired sailed straight and narrow, and without any
effort at all, buried itself just right deep inside my therapist, who hummed in pain. Then a pop.
And finally a whistle which faded to silent good-bye.
I jumped up and down.
I wasnt sure if I had fired all the bullets. But I was done firing.
My employees had fled in terror and I could hear them waiting for an elevator, clicking the
button over and over. I put the gun in my pocket. Walking over to a window I looked outside and
saw that the sun had a woody.
The elevator bell went ting.
The sun was having a rather personal moment right out there above us.
I heard sirens and footsteps in the stairs. It was security. They had guns, too.
I could get life.
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They were mad. They wore armor. The building began to tremble and the herd of footsteps I
heard reminded me of thunder. But it was still nice and sunny outside. In fact the sun was so
worked up that it seemed to glow a little brighter.
I'd need more sunscreen.
I opened the window and headed down the fire escape, floor after floor after floor. In the
windows I saw people pointing and screaming. The Guards were spilling out of vans, locked and
loaded. They had real guns, now.
I heard sirens in the streets below.
I jumped the rest of the way.
Then I ran.
The sun was making chirping noises.
People stood in the shade and cheered for the Guards. They ran after me. People laughed.
Bullets caught up with me and went on by. I didn't hear the bangs. I only heard my feet bouncing
off the pavement. Everything streaked by me. As I passed, everyone got old and the old people
died and the young people got white hair and bent over complaining about arthritis.
But the Guards ran fast.
Bullets flew. I looked behind me and saw a flock of bullets, big dumb bullets zipping through
the air in formation, high, way above me but coming down, nose diving.
So I ran faster. They hit the ground like raindrops. Helicopters threw some more at me. They
were skydiving bullets. But they couldn't catch me.
Until I hit the Tree. I was looking backwards and laughing at the Guards, but moving forward.
I didn't see the Tree, and I went crash into the glass (pressed my face against it). It didn't break,
though, I just smooshed against it with a slap and stopped dead cold.
The birdies became unsettled. The speakers sounded accordingly.
That guy told me about the sign prohibiting face pressing. I wiped my face print off the glass.
Then I turned and looked at everything approaching. A million new old people hobbling and
waving canes and bullets darting downwards and a mad crowd of Guards and security, their
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mouths bent in growling frowns and more bullets blazing and the buildings curving in over me
like I was looking through a bubble lens. Bullets splattered on the ground pock-marking a trail
directly to me. The birdies spun around the tree in a circle that dipped at one end like a half
melted ring. The whole flock whirled and whirled and whirled. In the reflection on the glass I
could see everything, the whole world approaching. People came. Security came. Guards came.
Then it cracked. The whole world split with a snap and then shattered, and the reflection
transformed into a mosaic of tiny reflections that held together only for a second because some
more bullets hit the glass and dispersed all the little reflections, the glass cascading to the ground
and each shard capturing a portion of the O so bright sun and shining with the light as it fell.
With the glass showering around me, the birdies escaped, their hologram wings flapping silently,
the din of raining glass and flying bullets drowning out the speakers, the birdie flock sailed
skywards. I climbed to the top of the Tree to have a better view, bullets whizzing through the
leaves and thudding into the wood. I reached the top, the very top, and being sure to dodge
cannonballs and howitzer shells, I watched the birdies go and cheered as the bullets passed right
through their not-there bodies without the slightest disturbance, the birdies ignoring them
completely though the helicopters filled the air with lead and noise.
Then the sun came.
The city became a milky white ocean. The helicopters had to land. The people couldn't run.
No bullets flew. Things were very quiet.
The fluid on the ground covered the projectors scattered through the Tree branches and swept
the birdies from the sky. No birdies could fly without being projected.
Except one.
One bird remained in the sky, its wings working the air, its tail pointed to me. The sun shone
strong and refreshed, and the lone bird glowed in its golden light, the world so silent around us
that I heard the flapping of its feathers, and its tweet tweet tweet, a thin song stretching all the
way from the bird to me, becoming thinner and thinner as the distance between us increased.
Then I heard a pop. A tiny pop. A bullet rose to the sky and blessed the crown of that bird
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with a puff. The song ceased, and the bird, its wings outstretched, spiraled downwards, a fall that
took some time and ended with a splash in the white ocean. Ripples surrounded the point of
impact and thinned out as they grew.
The people picked themselves up from the ground, the slimy residue dripping from their
bodies. They wiped their eyes and looked twice as mad. They staggered forward, their fingers
bent like claws. The helicopters recovered and the roar of violence and bullets exploded around
me. The people growled, sloshing through the goo, they climbed the Tree, fangs in their mouths,
grenades flung in the air.
Right then, the alien swooped down and rescued me.
He had a spaceship that sped us away from all the misfortune. We did, however, almost hit the
sun's phallus, which was again swinging like a pendulum. It glanced at us in disapproval. Then I
asked the alien to tell me about himself.
His name was Humpy Prime (you dont often think of aliens with names like that). He was
from a planet called Ginger. I said he must then be a Gingerian. He said no. He was a Timmie.
He was one of the Timmies of Ginger. Originally the planet had been named Timmie, but then
its sun got sick and ready to swell up into a red giant, so the Timmies had to leave and build a
new planet. They had really good science and were many millions of years ahead of humans. So
they built a new planet no problem and put it in orbit around a new star. They named it Ginger.
They had done all this before humans were a twinkle in the universe's eye.
"So what brings you to here?" I said.
"Take me to your leader," he said. Then he laughed, and I realized it was a joke and laughed
too. We were sailing over the city. "I've come to spread progress and intelligence and all that
business," he boasted.
"That's great!" I cheered, "You aliens are something else."
"Not all aliens are that great," he told me. (I asked him if 'he' was the proper term, and he said
it would do.) "There are two alien races in this universe. We are the Timmies and we are
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dedicated to spreading intelligence and scientific miracles."
"And the other aliens?" I asked.
"They have no name, but they pillage and enslave." Then he assured me that those aliens
hadn't found us, yetbut they were on their way.
Then I asked him how he liked it here so far. He wasn't sure. He had hit a weather balloon and
crashed in the Outland. As usual, it was one group of Outies fighting another, so they each
wanted to know if Humpy had lasers and cool shit like that that they could borrow to do in the
other side.
Oh, I dont have weapons, he told them, All I got is a busted spaceship and some Super
Neutrino Energy Canisters, also called SNECs, to fuel it with.
SNEC, I said. Who the hell came up with that name?
Whats wrong with it?
What isnt, I said, Its got no pizzazz. Nothing to make you want to remember it.
Yea, well, SNECs are pretty fucking great if you want to travel across the universe, buddy
boy.
Hey, man I have nothing to do with function. Im strictly about form.
Humpy giggled a bit and then went on with his story. He told the Outies that he had
knowledge, and that spreading it was his main reason for landing here to share knowledge and
understanding and to help build a better world for everybody to share. The Outies had stopped
listening when he said he didnt have any guns, so they started fighting amongst themselves over
what to do with him. Eventually, though, the Outies opted to "fuck it and shoot him." And they
did. Then one of them hitched Humpy's ship to his pick-up truck and dragged onto his front lawn
so it could lie there and rust and make him the envy of the neighborhood.
But Humpy wasn't really dead. They cant kill me, he said, No matter how hard they try.
He snuck back into his ship and got the hell out of there.
"And that's when I came to rescue you," he smiled.
"How did you know I needed help?" I asked.
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"Aliens know," he muttered nonchalantly.
"So what now?"
"Well," he said, "You touched upon it a minute ago. Progress is great, but we Timmies have
decided that we need a more savvy marketing plan."
And thats where I come in, I said.
Exactly! I want to land in the middle of the City, and, with your help, convince everybody to
use the science Ive got and to give their all for peace and progress.
Steer the ship to the City, I said. Were going for Big Splash.
Sounds good.
Just let me do all the talking, I said.
Gotcha.
Just so Im clear. You're going to unveil all your secrets to us humble humans?"
"That's right."
"What are your secrets?" I asked, "Like anti-matter and stuff like that?"
"Anti-matter?" he laughed boisterously, "Ha! Why is it that every time I visit a planet all they
think I'm going to bring them is anti-matter? Anti-matter ain't shit." He put his hand (I guess) on
my shoulder. "Crow, it's neutrinos these days. It's all neutrinos."
"Fantastic," I said.
So we landed the ship right next to the Tree. The City had cleaned up nice, but the people
were a little edgy at seeing me. But I put on a big smile and strode down the gangplank waving
like they adored me (which they then began to do). I told them that we had a visitor, and that
they needed to put their hands together for Humpy Prime. And down comes Humpy, lights
flashing and theme music, grinning and saluting the crowd and jabbering non-stop to the point
that I could not get a word in.
Thats how it always is. They want you to give them something new, they want you to do
something for them until the very last moment and then they want to take over and go with the
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same old same old.
We were still a big sensation. Humpy was getting a little technical with all of the details, but
the people were willing to extend a little leeway to the alien. We were taking over the airwaves.
Everyone was tuned in. Humpy told us all about neutrinos and all sorts of other things. The
people were very appreciative, and spoke in unison once Humpy had finished his lecture. "That's
great," they said, "This is exactly the kind of thing we need!" They applauded themselves and
became very giddy. Then they began drawing up the necessary plans, making deals, putting the
wheels in motion.
And then Humpy had to say:
Why this technologys so good, youll be able to tear down that there wall and live
peacefully with everyone else on the other side. Share and share alike.
Oh, Bad, I thought. I prepped myself for a little damage control, but theres some damage that
will bear no control.
Again, the people spoke as one:
Thats a bunch a fucking horseshit you alien dickhead, they said. Whats the use of having
stuff if you cant own it?
They unanimously decided that Humpy and I were security risks and had to be destroyed.
Out came the Guards with guns. But Humpy shielded me from their fire, and we sped away in
his ship.
We landed a long way away. Humpy asked me if I were all right. I said yes. I was unharmed. We
were in the way Outside, so far outside that there werent even any Outies around. I sat down on
the grassy surface and surveyed the green and blue world in front of me, green rolling ground
below and perfect blue in the sky. Humpy handed me a beer and told me to wait a minute. He
ducked into his ship. He emerged a few minutes later and handed me another beer as he sat down
next to me. He said we should rest a while. He pulled out a remote and pushed a button.
Suddenly I heard his theme music playing softly. It matched so perfectly the landscape spread
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beneath me.
"You know, Crow," he said staring out at the distance, "This happens on every planet I visit.
This exact thing."
"Really?" I said.
"Yep..... Every single civilization I meet reaches the exact same conclusions."
I was depressed. "So the humans are going to kill themselves, huh?"
"No," he said sipping his beer.
"What do you mean 'no?'"
"You know that other alien race I told you about? The one that pillages and enslaves?"
"Yea, the aliens-with-no-name?" I said.
He nodded. "I just called them and told them where we are. They'll be here in a half hour."
I was stunned. I shook my head in disbelief, but I had to sort of smile. "You're just going to let
the human race be enslaved?" I exclaimed.
He nodded.
"You asshole," I said.
He laughed. "You don't want it to commit suicide, do you?"
"No, I guess not." I still felt depressed.
"Don't worry," he said slapping my back, "The aliens-with-no-name will let me use their tools,
and I'll fix my ship properly so that it will work in outer space, and you and I will buzz out of
here. You'll like it on Ginger."
I felt relieved. I was better able to laugh at the bitter irony of the whole thing.
"By the way," he said, "Do you know where we are?"
"On a hill." Then suddenly, I lifted my head and felt a sensation of peace. It's the only time in
my life I think that I have ever experienced wonderment.
"This is the hill your Dad told you about. The one where he discovered the self-knowledge
that led to you," he smiled.
How did you know about that? I asked.
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Aliens know.
We tapped bottles and drank to each other's health.
The music kept playing. We opened two more beers and waited for the greatest event in
human history to hurry up and get going. When it did, a million little points of white light dotted
the sky. The moon was rising, but the sun was going down. That made me laugh.
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Frame of reference is everything when it comes down to it. Like the Wizard used to say, all we
do is compare and call it thinking. What do you judge the world by? When do you notice
change? And when do you change your frame of reference? In the end, these are the only
questions that exist. You answer them, and you answer everything.
I normally dont think like this and would rather leave the philosophizing to others like the
Wizard and move on without a moment devoted to the Big Questions. But, I couldnt escape the
frame of reference issue right thenfor two reasons, one obvious and the other a little more
abstract.
Reason One: I was spinning. Theres nothing that will make you more cognizant of your
frame of reference than spinning. And it wasnt me, personally spinning, it was Humpys ship. I
wasnt moving at all from my perspective, being all strapped into my seat (the Timmies being
bright enough to understand the importance of seatbelts). I was immobile as a statue. And really
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the only reason I knew I was spinning was that I could see out the windshield, and the world,
which had conformed to the order of sky on top, ground down below now twirled around a little
center point that in reality meant nothingsomeone outside staring at that same point in the sky
would have noticed nothingbut because Humpys ship was spinning left over right, that little
insignificant point became the center of my universe and the place where I was going.
But, why the spinning?
Let me tell you how it came to be.
You see, the whole aliens-with-no-name thing had taken a wretched turn for the worse
and Humpy and I needed off the planet pronto. Humpy never got the tools he needed, so the ship
wasnt up to flying at all. But we had no choice. Staying stationary was not an option. So we
took to the sky flying on little more than wishpower, my hands wringing and palms sweating, the
ship creaking, popping, snapping, cracking, bouncing through the sky like a boat on the rough
old sea, and Humpy pissing and bitching and moaning and twisting dials, turning knobs and
pounding panels screaming Move! Move! Move! Clouds splattering on the windshield like
immortal bugs and my lone, sad-eyed reflection just looking back at me as though to say hey,
man, you gotta do something, Im just the reflection here. But there was nothing I could do. I
mean maybe Humpy and I grasshoppered it on the hill back then just lollygagging and lazing
about drinking beer and looking at the sky when I should have been learning how to fly the ship
or something like that, but past is past and now is now, and now we were zipping along through
the sky moving faster than anything Id ever seenI mean there I was strapped into my seat and
Humpys next to me pounding on this orange button and the ships speeding up, I can feel it
hell, if it hadnt been for his constant imploring of the ship not to fall from the sky, Id have been
able to overlook all the hanging wires, blinking lights and junk strewn about and wrapped myself
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in a nice cozy quilt of ignorance thinking oh, its gonna be okay. But not with the way he was
acting. I just had to hope. Nothing more than that.
Were booming through the sky and Im feeling many, many gs pressing against me, my
face doing that stretch and ripple thing and my poor butt feeling like itd slip through the crevice
between the seat back and the cushion and be lost like a shiny penny. The outside world melted
away into strips of blue, green and brown. Humpy billowed like a flabby sail, his hands gripping
the joystick by which he flew the whole damn show, and both of us staring straight out the
window with tears running from our eyes. He pressed the orange button again and then jammed
back on the stick and up up up up up light blue to deep purple and we could see the stars. My lips
receded from my teeth and I could see my reflection in the windshield grinning like some shit-
eating skeleton with bulgy eyes and slicked-back hair. The stars were little dots (the first time Id
ever seen the stars). Then the engines went floooommmm (seriouslyfloooommmm) and the
stars stretched out like skinny fingers reaching towards me. But then floooommmm became
boooommmm and then nothing and the skinny fingers shrank and the stars were dots again, and
then the dots shot upwards and the image of the world filled the windshieldlovely blue, green
and brown like some mural youd see on TV. I could still see my reflection, a little fainter now,
but normal and smiling and my hair pointing all over the place and I felt like my seatbelt was the
only thing holding me down, like you could tack a pair of wings on me and Id float to Happy
Land doling out lollipops to all the little people and singing show tunes. I held my hands at
shoulder level and I was about to tell Humpy hey, cool out man, theres nothing achieved by
panic and stress, let it go, man, let it go when it dawned on me that the world was getting
mighty big in our windshield and that my little reflection was slowly morphing back to the shit-
eating skeleton and instead of telling Humpy to cool out and let it ride to Happy Land, I said
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something more in the line of get that fucking engine working and he started blaring at me and
pounding on that little orange button and that mural just started getting more and more detailed.
Then a menu appeared on the windshield, a field of letters superimposed on a blossoming
mountain range:
Select one:
Communications
Systems
Flight information
Beverages
Humpy diddled with the joystick and the button and Systems lit up and winked at us.
Select one:
Computers
Engines
Appliances
Engines lit up.
Select one:
Engines On
Engines Off
Engines Eject
Engines On lit up, the blithely unaware of the big mountains coming close, my face
reflected on the windshield right next to it. Sputter, sputter floooommmm hack, cough and off
again. Humpy thumped the button.Engines Off lit up, the peak of a mountain pointed
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straight at me. Hack, hack, hack, uhmmmmmm, floooommmm, doooommmm, snoooooze
Engines Trying . Bang. Fl, fl, fl, fl, FLOOOOMMMMM. Engines On !Humpy
cranked back on the joystick and the mountain sank to the bottom of the windshield and then
vanished and nothing but blue sky and smiling me. The screen gave us one big Thank You!
So, were zooming straight through the open air, not up or down, or spinning, just nice
and level. Humpys twisting dials, pushing buttons, sliding switches and turning knobs. The
worlds streaking by, and, all things considered, Im relaxed. My hearts beating. I wipe the snot
from my nose and lean back in my chair. Low-level clouds stream over the ship, sliding over the
windshield, the shimmering effect they create gives me the intangible tingles and sends me on
my way to Happy Land again. Humpy seems more confident. Hes twisting less dials and
pressing less buttons and saying ohhhh! And there it is! And thats what she needs! tapping the
control panel and thereby instilling in me a sense that everythings alright. I look at the clouds
and my reflections smiling at me. I close my eyes and reflect on my hectic day. Change comes
suddenly. It certainly does.
My thoughts drifted to Ginger. Humpy had given me some pamphlets to look at so I had
a pretty good idea what lay ahead for me, and to tell you the truth, I was all for it. The Wizard
was always on my case about divorcing myself from the physical world and journeying through
the land of the Mind where I could play hopscotch with abstract ideas and concepts and achieve
Understanding and junk like that, but I could never really get to first base with the whole notion.
He had this sort of life going on where he could have poked this or that from sun-up to sun-down
and then the other way around because he was a star, always on TV, every channel, youd flip
through and thered be his facethe Wizard. But damn it, he hated it. Pouted all day and night
like stardom was some sort of curse. Me? Thats not the way I think. Hell no. Why the very
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second my grinny face shone on the TV and they were telling the City what a fucking genius I
am, I had but one thought, and only one, and one that I am in no way ashamed of: Coitus. Pure
and simple. I had the money and notoriety and I was going to be laid like I had to make up for a
long line of celibate ancestors. But it was like the Wizard just couldnt be happy unless he was
pissing on me for it, and Id say to him look around, this is the Cityweve perfected life.
Weve embraced the notion that were nothing but a bunch of waterbags that need to eat. And
just under half of us come with DNA guns and itchy trigger fingers. Whats the problem? And
then hed start moaning about how there was so much more. But he didnt know about Ginger.
When these Timmies had a chance to build their own world, Bang, they did it right. Thats what
Humpy saidImagine the opportunity to build a world that you actually want. What would you
put in it? The Big Questions? Not me. Good beer, beautiful women and rubbers that grow on
trees. Everything else is a complication, and when you think about it, everything else amounts to
nothing but whining about why you dont live in world with good beer, beautiful women and
rubbers that grow on trees. Thats Understanding. We could have made a mint selling trips back
and forth from the City to Ginger. I would have pocketed more cash than WonderSlap.
But that was neither here nor there. The whole big wide world was on the way out and all
the people I knew, even the Wizard, were lining up for a heaping serving of the Big Good-Bye,
and given that, given that it was all ending anyway, I could be heading for a planet of libraries
and blue cheese and Id still have to say Oh Lucky Me! But I was going to Ginger. How could I
complain?
I opened my eyes. My reflection winked at me. Humpy was bent over twisting a couple of
loose wires. The clouds parted and there was blue sky.
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One problem: we were rapidly approaching one of the avenging angels, who held his
sword up and smiled like a bastard ready to slice us in half.
Reason Two: Often during the most stressful moments of my life I feel as though I sprout a little
bud of extra consciousness that either comments on the events causing me so much distress or
rambles on about something entirely unrelated to the world as I know it then. So, while Im
confident that my Main Brain was not particularly interested in the concept of a frame of
reference, this little bud blossomed and could think of nothing else.
But before we get quite to that, Im going to take advantage of this frame of reference
idea (now that my Main Brain gives a hoot) and slide the frame of reference back through time
(about an hour) to when Humpy and I were sitting on the hill, slugging beers and waiting for the
aliens-with-no-name.
The sun balanced on the horizon, all red and all, and the moon stood there on the opposite
horizon, the two of them there like they were eyeing each other up and I thought of what an odd
sight it was to see them so situated, one burning and glowing and the other golden and cool and
the horizon a rim of light fading and changing between them and the sky enveloping it all in
purple and then the lights slowly approaching, little white lights coming to change the world. My
bottle empty, I placed it on the grass. It tinked against the others, and before the words touched
my lips, Humpy asked me if I wanted another beer. Sure, I said, sure do and mused on why
hadnt the Timmies, with their technology and all, invented something to make beer appear on
desire, and Humpy reminded me that his ship was broken. The two of us sat quietly for a second
just watching those lights coming to enslave and dominate the world.
They look like stars, I said.
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He snorted, If youre going to get poetic, I guess they do. But, Ive seen stars up close. Ive
driven by stars. Ive seen them grow big and red and Ive seen them blow up. Theyre a lot more
than little dainty lights in the sky.
Ive never seen the stars at all, I said. Theyre more a rumor than anything else in the City,
something you see on TV. I know theyre lights in the sky, but theres are a lot of things that I
was sure I knew what they looked like before I saw them and when I did see them I didnt know
what they looked like. Those, I think, look like stars.
He started laughing and punched me on the shoulder.
I laughed at myself, I mean, I know those arent real stars. But arent real stars a lot like
those?
Oh sure, he said, Hell, if that sun ever goes down, youll see some real stars before we
have to take off. He stood up. I tell you what Ill get the beers and a telescope and you can
groove on the stars all you like until I get the ship ready and then well see some real ones up
close. He hopped up the gangplank and vanished into the ship. He yelled out to me, Ginger is
awash in stars.
Images of the night sky teeming with stars filled my mind. Sure Id seen such things on
TV, but at that particular moment I was making a distinction between television and seeing. He
called to me again. A beer popped out of the doorway and landed in my waiting hands. I heard
him rummaging through barrels of stuff and telling himself that it had to be somewhere. I opened
the beer and sat staring at the approaching fleet trying to find one fixed point of light among that
multitude, one little dot not growing brighter or larger. But I couldnt. Every time a new one
appeared, I thought this is it, thats a real one. But no, itd get bigger and brighter like all the
others. I thought about the Wizard (for the first time since arriving at the hill). Id seen him on
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TV saying that hed seen the stars; in fact hed been born there and he kept lamenting about how
he wanted to go back. Once, he told an audience (his frame of reference being loosely hinged)
that hed flown through the sky and through time and seen the stars being born and held them in
his hands. Theyd even talked to him, I think, but by that point Id pretty much tuned him out. I
almost felt bad for the Wizard, really, his forthcoming subjugation and enslavement and all; I
wondered if I should ask Humpy to pick him up once the spaceship was fixed and wed take him
to Ginger. But Ginger didnt really sound like his sort of place, and besides, I had no more time
for thinking.
The ground to my right became wet. I looked down at it and theres a beer bottle lying on its
side and pouring out its contents on my foot. I looked up and theres Humpy with the telescope
to his eye and quivering and whimperinghes looking up at the approaching lights, and before
I can ask him hey whats the matter, he drops the telescope, lets out a little cry and starts
bumbling toward the ship. Man, I think, if hes any indication, I can drink these Timmies under
the table. He goes stumbling up the gangplank. I look back at the lights, and nothings changed,
theres just more of them. And the suns in the same place. And the moon. Eyeing each other up.
Thats weird, I think.
The telescope rolled past my feet and would have rolled all the way down the hill, but it
knocked up against a rock.
I stood up, my knees snapping and cracking, my back sore. I stretched and could feel those
beers sloshing around in my gut. I unzipped and set several of them free. Humpy banged and
thumped around inside the ship. I tapped, tucked and rezipped and strolled over to where the
telescope rested against a rock. Picking it up, I noticed something funny in an odd way. The
telescope was pure gold and covered in etchings. The red light of the sun kissed it all around.
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Etched into it was the picture of an elephant and I thought about something Id seen about them
on TV where people theorized that right before the Great Dilapidation, people took the elephants
on and finally wiped them out. Evidently, the elephants had been on the loose and misbehaving
and we had to stop them, so we got our guns and boom boom boom boom we cleared them out
and made the world safe and it was the last great thing people did before the Great Dilapidation.
(This, of course, made it a surprise to find some for the circus they did end up misbehaving,
though, and we did end up killing them all.)
Funny to find one here on a telescope, I thought. I was about to ask Humpy about the
whole thing when:
The sky rippled like water and this almost visible wave of sound knocked me flat on my
ass and set the ground shimmering beneath me.
I got back up. Humpy was thumping around like a mad thing in the ship and I started to
wonder if I should join him in there, but Im an inquisitive sort of soul, and I just had to know
what was going on. The million white lights were falling from the sky and splashing into the
earth like white hot metal falling on waxthey filled the sky, streaming down like meteorites,
streaking through the purple sky, the moon smiling and the sun shuddering and the stars falling. I
lifted the telescope and put it to my eye. I pointed it to where the first star had fallen, a crater
there, my hand around the telescope, twisting back and forth, blurry, sharp, blurry, hazy, a hand,
blurry, wings.
I dropped the telescope and let it roll away. I didnt need it. I didnt want it. The elephant on it
somersaulted down the hill, tink, tink, tink against this rock and that.
The first one rose from its crater. It stood a mile away and glowed with such light that it made
the air seem like perfect glassbut I could look right at it, even though it burned so bright, I
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could stare at without so much as squinting. It was vision clearer than any vision. From a mile
away I could see the hairs of it eyebrows and the lines surrounding its mouth. It stood a hundred
feet into the air, its robes alabaster and flowing and a rope tied around its waist, its skin white-
white and smooth, hair to its shoulders and green-green eyes glaring at me the little figure on the
hill. Its eyebrows dipped down and the lips parted and the teeth showed and the wings unfurled
and up it went, sword in hand, sandals on feet, and down again, on the ground, but still looking at
me. The sword gleaming and mirrorlike and reflecting the light of everything in the sky right
then. It pointed the blade up as if to receive a blessing. And then, back to me, little old me.
At this point, it may seem that little old me ought to be thinking thoughts of escape because
the big unhappy giant angel with the sword is frowning and walking towards me and making the
earth shake with each step, and without question thats exactly what I was thinking at that
moment in one of my consciousnesses. Right then, thats when the little bud popped up
somewhere in my mind and started fawning over how bright and glowy the angel was, and how
it was wearing sandals and what a big sword it was carryingthis isnt uncommon, for at such
moments in my life my consciousness bifurcates and though the real me may be tumbling down
a flight of stairs, signing a contract for several trillion dollars, or ironing the wrinkles out of a
celebratory female, the little buds there telling me how I ought to get my shoes resoled, or
wondering whether or not the paper is twenty-five percent cotton fiber, or if TV would be better
if it only had a few more channels or some other such nonsense that I, at the particular time, just
dont care about. And on that hill, I truly didnt give a damn whether that angel had perfect teeth
or not, in fact, I was practically pissing and shitting all over myself and doing the dance of fright
with my knees knocking together and tears spitting out of my eyes and wanting to do nothing
more than beat it into Humpys ship and blast off to Ginger. But I was just too fucking scared to
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do anything other than practically piss and shit myself while doing the dance of fright. So there I
am watching this thing come at me and hearing this little bud go on about how clean and well
groomed that angel is, but then, with cleanlinesss regal position in the scheme of things, one
would have to figure that appearance is a high priority in heaven.
(About angels and all that we werent completely ignorant about this stuff in the City (we
had TV and documentaries) and I know it tied in the thunderbooks and all that jazz from before
the Big D. I never got a real clear picture of it, but some of it was useful you know you could
make good things heaven and bad things hell and for the simple-dumb it was good enough
marketing. The guys with wings thing, though, never did much for me kinda goofy, really.
Never could decide if it was all part of the best salesjob ever, or the worst.)
This is what I had to put up with. All heaven breaking loose, and I cant do anything but listen
to this crap coming from inside me. And Im not even thinking it. As that angel approached with
its wings outstretched and that sword in its hand and as all those angels poured from the sky and
as Humpy struggled to get the ships engine to turn over, I didnt hear any of it though the sound
filled my ears; I didnt see any of it though the scene filled my eyes. All I knew was that the
sword looked like big razor and did I shave this morning? Even as the angel dipped the point of
the blade into the earth and let it drag behind as it advanced on me and the hill. Even as the gash
it gouged in the ground welled up with blood and the other angels, also heading this way, took
notice and did likewise to the poor green world. Even as Humpys ship sputtered and howled and
he screamed for me to come in. Even as the angel lifted its sword and swung it horizontal to the
ground, splashed earthblood on me and slashed the hill beneath my feet. Even as I turned it up a
notch with the virtual pissing and shitting and dancing frantically and started crying for Dad.
Even as the angel roared and spit upon me. The only thought present to me: All your life youve
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wanted something to happen and now it is. Lucky man. You get to experience yourself
experiencing something like this.
A beer bottle struck the back of my head and must have knocked the little bud cold because
all of the sudden I felt like a part of what was happening. The angels eyes went dark and it
shrieked, and I dont remember spinning around, but I was running in the other direction
screaming for Humpy, who had another beer bottle ready to let fly at me. Up the gangplank,
down with the door.
I strapped myself in and got ready to feel the gs.
He pressed the orange button and said I think it will. And it did. Floooommmm. I felt all the
cosmos pressing me down, saw that little skeleton reflecting back at me. That moment, sailing
over that angels head, twisting the ship round to the west and blasting off into the sunset, that
was the happiest fucking ten seconds in my life. Looking down on angels.
Then the engines cut for the first time and up comes the menu:
Select one:
Communications
Systems
Flight information
Beverages
And guess who reappears and is wondering why everythings written in English and why all the
faces are human caricatures? Floooommmm, what a funny noise. Normally healthy engines hum.
Is this a healthy engine? Oh, there are the stars, at long last. Oh and theyre stretching out like
spaghetti. Well, what way are they supposed to be? Are stars really stringy but we dont move
fast enough to notice? Its so quiet when the engines shut off. And there go the stars back to dots.
Maybe were not supposed to move at all. I wonder what kind of appliances they have on this
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ship? Probably that one that makes beer. And a photocopier, I bet. Why would you want the
engines to eject? Oh Crow, you obviously didnt shave this morning. You forgot to buy new
blades and you didnt want razor burn. Ive never seen a mountain from the top before. Not even
on TV. Is this sort of like the opposite of climbing one? I just cant get over that noise
floooommmm. What about that elephant on the telescope? Yes, that was plenty close to the
mountain for me, marvelous really. Oh an angel. Do they have to polish those swords in
heaven?
Back to Reason one: I said the ship was spinning. How did the ship get to spinning? Heres how:
So the angels smiling like a bastard ready to slice us in half. Humpys not looking out the
window. Instead hes fucking around with some wires, so I pick up an empty beer bottle thats
lying next to me and crack him over the head, and instead of getting pissy with me, he sees what
I see, yelps and takes what is commonly referred to as evasive action. The ship tips to the right,
then the left and then right between the angels legs. No nards there. The angel spins around and
swings the sword. I hear metal hitting metal on the right side of the ship, the engines cut out, and
the laws of physics impart unto us a centripetal force that sets the ship to spinning and makes
everything in the windshield swirl.
So there I am marveling over my frame of reference and fixating on that little point that is the
center of my universe.
Meanwhile, Humpy was frantically trying to restart the engines which he did after a few
tense seconds. Flooooom. Then he set to stabilizing it, and again, he succeeded. We werent
spinning anymore. The center of my universe vanished.
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We coasted through a valley. Very picturesque, mountains on both sides and a river beneath us
like a blue ribbon. My frame of reference was still spinning and Im not quite sure what forces
acted upon my body. But things were quiet otherwise for me, no little voices. The mountains
rushed by us and at the long far away end of the valley there was the sun, a blob of red on the
edge of everything.
And then there were the angels. Three of them popped up over the horizon shimmering in
their angellight, holding their swords and coming straight at us in a V formation. Humpy pressed
the orange button and the floooommmm intensified and I understood that Humpyd had enough
and he wasnt veering from his chosen path and that this ship was either going to work now or go
down in a blazing fireball. We didnt say a word to one another. I didnt even look at him, but I
could see our reflections in the windshield, both of us staring straight into the bloody red sky and
the avenging angels. I thought to myself (and this was me, not some extraneous consciousness)
what have angels ever done, anyway? And right then, right when those three prickless bastards
were in the center of the windshield and the crosshairs of my mind, I hoped, I pleaded that angels
were born telepathicmore than anything else in the world, I wanted them to pick up the shit I
was laying down in my mind like it was television and I was the only channel in the universe.
Thats right ladies, I was saying to myself, Im on to you. Guys with wings. Holy shit thats
creative. Look they can fly! Too bad they dont have dicks. And when I thought that, the too bad
they dont have dicks thing, the three of them shot their eyes right at me and I could see their lips
quivering and it felt better than if I had a gun. So as Humpy cranked it up, I kept it up: My
therapist woulda been all over this. Got envy? You guys arent even player on the other team
youre like mascots. Like cheerleaders. Why dont you get some megaphones and jump around.
And that had them trembling and their formation getting all shaky. They raised their swords and
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howled. Humpy slammed the stick sideways and the ship tipped to the right and what was
horizontal became vertical and we sailed between two of them.
Then vertical became horizontal. Humpy pulled back on the stick and the sun slipped beneath
the windshield and we were off into the sky with the stars. I desperately wanted the engines to
kick in with everything they could so that we could make the stars stringy and cruise away from
all this mayhem.
But, they just wouldnt do it.
At the same time, they didnt give up the ghost either, so things werent all bad. The stars
were still dots, but we were moving forward not fast, but forward just the same.
I felt my consciousness heal and let out a breath. Frames of reference seemed all left behind
for the angels to hack apart along with anything else they wanted. It was their world now.
Humpy seemed more relieved than me. He put the joystick on the dash board and leaned back in
his chair. I told him that hed done a nice job.
There aint nothin that can stop me, he said, Lets get away from this world. Ill fix the
engines later.
Sounded good. Youre the man, I assured him, Ive come to realize that. I almost asked if
he wanted a beer, but I thought maybe not while hes driving. But I wanted to keep the chat
going, if only to dispel any lingering anxiety around us, so, jokingly, I asked Humpy what the
deal with the elephant on the telescope was.
The what?
The elephant, I said, It was etched on the telescope you gave me.
Fucked if I know, he said, I got that thing from the aliens-with-no-name.
Really? I said, I thought the angels were the aliens-with-no-name.
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They wish
Have you had to deal with angels before?
Time to time you bump into them up here.
I didnt even know the fucking things were real, I said, I thought they were just trinkets or
knick-knacks you put on a windowsill.
Yea, well, what can you do?
He didnt seem to want to talk about them. So I went back to the elephant on the telescope.
Its an elephant, he said.
I know that, I said, I just didnt know you could find them all over the universe. Again, he
wasnt too forthcoming with words. So I asked: Are the aliens-with-no-name elephants.
No! he snapped, Theyre aliens without names.
And what?! I said, They pillage, they enslave, and like to give out presents like nice, shiny
telescopes?
Yea, thats it, still snapping, They give shit away. Like this they gave me this. He pulled
a chain from out under his shirt. It had a pedant dangling on the end of it.
This is what the pendant looked like:
They gave you this?
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I found it, he said.
They gave it to you, or you found it. Which one?
I have it now.
You stole it, I said, You stole this necklace and that telescope.
I did not! he yelled, Where I come from nobody owns anything. There is no stealing.
Well, that sounds like Crazy Land to me, I laughed. I thought we were playing a game.
But, Humpy got serious.
It has been lately, but youre going to help me set it straight.
That sounded a bit like a mission. And up to this point, I was in it for the broads and beer
(and the escape). I wanted to press the matter with Humpy and find out what was going on.
But something hit the ship
Before either of us could explain ourselves, floooommmm became Boom! and then silence.
Humpy dove over to the joystick and the menu came on again:Engines On !
Then:
Boom.
Sorry, Engines Dead
And before either of us could start keening for the engines, something else thudded
against the top of the ship and Humpy and I just looked up knowing this couldnt be good. We
looked at the ceiling and followed a sound as it crawled toward the windshield. It peeked out
over the top edge.
Angels, I said.
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Uh-oh, he said. He pressed a button and a holographic image of the ship appeared between
us. Three angels on top, their swords stuck in their belts. One held on to the top and the other two
each took a side and then after the top one counted three, they each pulled up and the ship
twisted around and we headed back to earth on angelpower. I looked at the little ship and I could
see myself in there looking down at another little ship.
Beer? asked Humpy.
I nodded. He put one in my hands and the two of us pulled up chairs and watched the little
ship fly (though it never moved from between us), the angel wings flapping. The little bud of
consciousness sprouted, but it didnt say anything, being as taken in with the whole situation as I
was, it just perched on my shoulder and gave me an odd sense of harmonyI was experiencing
this and watching myself experience it and experiencing myself watching myself experience it.
And with a beer.
Its been one bitch of a day, Humpy.
Yea.
We had nothing else to say. The world popped up in the center of the windshield, and the little
ship between us headed straight towards it. In the windshield, mine and Humpys reflections
each carried a serene look of resignation and Hey I didnt go down without a fight. Oceans and
clouds and land, so different than TV, the clouds slippery and silent and the ocean monotonous
until it meets the land and then all those hills and all those rocks. And then our hill. We circle it
once. I finished my beer and Humpy his. No more motion. I felt the ground beneath us (the
angles actually put us down softly). Angel feet in front of us. Three pairs. Super white mixed
with pink. The suns still there clutching to the horizon and the moon, too. I looked at Humpy
and he looked at me. And between us, piercing right through that little ship, a sword plunged
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through the ceiling and pinned the ship to the ground like a bug in a bug collection. I got the
tremblies. Another blade broke through, this time at the ceilings edge, a little blade like a knife.
It circumnavigated the edge of the ship opening it up like a can of beans. I got the shakies. But
Humpy remained cool. He reached behind his neck and undid his chain, the elephant in his
hands. He held it up and reached out to me, gave it to me and told me, I came here to save you.
The knife made it halfway around the ship and then withdrew. Why me? the bud said, then me
aloud, Why me? Another sword poked in, this time at a slant and at the midpoint in the arc that
the knife had cut. The sword anchored itself in the floor of the ship and then did the lever thing,
straightening itself out to perfect vertical and prying open the ceiling of the ship, the metal
whining, and then angellight flooded in. Humpy closed my hands around the pendant. This will
protect you. I was wondering if it turned into a bomb or something like a hand grenade. But I
didnt ask him that. A big white hand came in and wrapped itself around the old guy and up he
went through the roof and into the angellight leaving me with the pendant. I looked out the
windshield and there he was on the ground glowing in all that light. And then Thoop. Thwack.
And Plok. They ran ten or twelve shiny swords through him and no more Humpy Prime.
I looked down on the floor of the ship. There were ten or twelve little angels all doing the
same thing to a little holographic Humpy. And then they turned and looked back at the ship and
one of them rolled up their sleeves. I felt free of all feeling and desire at that moment, tingly and
wondrous. Staring down at those little angels, I reached for the joystick and pressed the orange
button. Engines Dead . One of the swords came out of the ship and I saw one of the
little angels handing it to another one. Then he put his foot on the remaining roof of the ship,
rolled up his sleeves again and grabbed the hilt of the second sword, the one holding the ship to
the ground. I press the button. Engines Dead . Im thinking to myself, come on you
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little fucker, do it. I press the button. He started yanking on the sword but it was in there pretty
good and the ship rocked back and forth as he struggled with it and hes denting the ceiling
pretty bad with his foot and all the pressure hes using on it, and the other angels are taunting
him. And I press the button again. The sword broke loose and the angel staggered backward
almost falling down. I lifted my finger off the button. He got up. The menu sputtered and I heard
a pop from in back. The angel bent over and put his hands in the ship. Engines
Resurrected .
Floooommmm and some mighty surprised angels, especially the one holding on as the
ship blasts into the sky.
So there I am flying a ship that I dont know how to fly and dragging an angel with me. I
looke
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