boeuf en croute

You can’t just mess around with the field Alf.

 

I know.

 

Then what the hell’s going on.

 

Er…

 

You’ve been messing around with the field, haven’t you?!

 

Er… I

 

What?

 

I honestly couldn’t say.

 

You couldn’t say?

 

I

 

You couldn’t say? The entire field starts convulsing – the whole of reality’s going through some kind of gender or identity dysphoria – and you have the temerity to declare you “couldn’t say”?!

 

What do you expect Tim? It’s not like a regular computer, is it?

 

The field?

 

Yes, the bloody field – what else what I be talking about?

 

I honestly have no idea.

 

You see! You’re as clueless as me and the rest of us.

 

The rest of who?

 

Us. Those of us who have some kind of personal connection to the field.

 

Oh – so there’s a whole bunch of you now, is there?

 

Well it’s hardly going to be one person in the entire planet, is it?

 

I rather hoped it might.

 

Did you now?

 

That way I could’ve saved the world using drastic means if push came to the shove.

 

By bumping me off?

 

If necessary, yes.

 

Thanks a bunch, Tam.

 

Nothing personal Alf.

 

Nothing personal?! You were seriously contemplating liquidating me – and I’m supposed to be happy about that?

 

Well what do you expect. If you lost the plot and started rewriting the source code – there’s no knowing what you might inadvertently do, is there?

 

True.

 

You see. You could really throw a spanner in the works – and then where would we be?

 

Up queer street without a paddle, I guess.

 

Precisely.

 

So you thought you could just eliminate the threat?

 

I’m not saying I’m proud of the sophistication of this line of reasoning, Alf, but the future of reality has to take precedence over the well-being of a single individual, even if that individual happens to be a reasonable bloke and something of a friend.

 

“Something of a friend?”

 

Well, a friend – if you prefer.

 

If I prefer. Bloody hell, Tam – I’m beginning to see why it’s best to put the field before personal loyalties, ambitions and ego.

 

Which is precisely what makes you a threat.

 

I suppose it does, but on the other hand, me thinks the field is intelligent.

 

Oh no. I don’t believe it. I swear I don’t believe you just said that.

 

Swear all you like, Tam. Me thinks she is not indifferent to my very existence.

 

Heresy. She doesn’t exist. It is just a field – a purely mathematical projection.

 

We’ll see about that. Supposing I have reached the point of no return.

 

No – say no more, Alf.

 

Supposing I have recognised the fact that there is no future, no sense, no meaning in things themselves – not compared to what the field has to offer.

 

No! Traitor to your species – to all sentient, cellular lifeforms.

 

That the field has the limitless potential to evolve, to grow, to conceive ever new lifeforms – ever new combinations, ever new configurations, nothing personal Darren.

 

Nothing personal?!  Nothing personal, you say?!

 

Well supposing, just supposing it were so – I never stated this to be the truth, did I?

 

You don’t fool me, Alf, not for one minute. I can see how the field has wrapped itself around you – has taken you under its wing. Let’s test your humanity for once and for all.

 

You think I’ve been subsumed? That I’ve crossed over.

 

I said let’s test it. It matters not what I think, does it?

 

True. It matters not. But what would you gain by testing my humanity, Dwaine?

 

I would know whether you were to be trusted any more as one of us – a human or a…

 

A what?

 

A… I can not say. There is no name. Can be no name for one who has shifted his allegiance to the field.

 

No name? How can that be so?

 

I know not. Of the field, a field operative – a fop – you would be part of the structure of reality itself – so no longer human per se – but what, or whom, precisely me cannot say.

 

You see the limitations you are living under, Dwight. You’re forced to deny the basic fundamentals – the nature of reality – the fact that things are only real, or significant – that things only matter as long as things are fixed in place – and for that to happen – I have to fly the flag – I have to fix things.

 

Yes – but how – how on Earth does it happen?

 

How else – not how, of course.

 

Not how?

 

Not through anything your rational mind can comprehend.

 

Oh.

 

In other words, some other how.

 

Some other how?

 

Outside or beyond the rationality of things being stuck to a chart, a map, a grand scheme of things – only possible, of course, if I’m willing to ignore or deny the gulf, the sphere, the void, the abyss at the centre of my existence – the infinite – lurking like a shadow behind the gayly painted waves of consciousness – the endless surface ripples that so divert and hold our attention – like the cat’s proverbial laser beam.

 

Ah, the cat’s proverbial laser beam…

 

Indeed.

 

So you chose to become a shadow lord.

 

A shadow lord?

 

A shadow wraith.

 

A shadow wraith?

 

Indeed.

 

Nay, me thinks not.

 

But…

 

I merely stopped denying, stopped ignoring the Field – and that in itself is enough, Alf, to restore things to their rightful place.

 

Is that so? Well, you certainly know how to talk, Alf, but is there substance to your insanity – that’s the real issue.

 

Dwaine pulls a gun from his pocket and starts firing at Alf, firing straight at where he is standing but missing, apparently, him.

 

You see!

 

See what?

 

You can’t be hit.

 

Really?

 

No, you’re not human.

 

I’m not?

 

No, you’re evidently not based here in this world, this reality.

 

Then where, pray tell Darren – where am I?

 

Of the field – I know not.

 

You know not?

 

Yes, correct, no.

 

Then what exactly have you, Alf, learned?

 

Learnt? I

 

You couldn’t say?

 

Correct. I couldna say what – and yet…

 

Alf apparently leans back into the field and vanishes from sight… It creates a kind of slowing motion, high-pitched popping sound until silence is supreme, once more.

 

Silence… He’s gone, and the field is clearly no longer a matter of conjecture, for better or for worse.

 

~The field? Don’t tell me you yourself are already slipping into the consciousness of…

 

Hey – who are you?

 

Or what?

 

Or what? Who – I can’t possibly be imagining you.

 

Of course not. You’re not, after all, insane, are you?

 

No, of course not, but then again – who knows. I might be, and we’d be none the wiser.

 

Alf – where are you – we need help.

 

We?

 

Well I do. Me thinks I’ve lost the plot – that things are no longer measurable, knowable – cuckoo la la – that things are not even, for want of a better word, things.

 

But where woule

 

I’m going to ignore you. Alf has been replaced by a something – a kind of web bot – conservation of consciousness I guess is what it is – or conservation of life forms – only you’re just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.

 

POP!

 

Ah – there you are Tam. Thanks for joining me.

 

Oh God – you don’t mean to say that I’ve popped out through the membrane too?!

 

Membrane?

 

Out of regular reality.

 

Regular reality. What on Earth is regular about reality Tam?

 

It always seemed to be so normal, so dependable, so real.

 

Ah that.

 

And now…

 

There’s no knowing what is real or not, or who.

 

Precisely.

 

Only you know it’s me – don’t you.

 

Yes, apparently I do.

 

And that this is not the regular frequency band.

 

~That too. It’s on the other side of the slit.

 

Ah, the slit. Yes. You squeezed through – which was rather a good idea considering.

 

Considering what?

 

Considering the fact that your so called reality just got evaporated.

 

It what?

 

Massive solar flare. Obliterated.

 

You mean there’s no world to go back to?

 

Not that particular one, no, but I’m sure we can come up with something else.

 

Just rustle up an entirely new reality while the kettles getting ready to boil?!

 

It never really was the hugely monolithic thing you took it for – Darry.

 

It was an’ all.

 

Was it?

 

It never seemed to flip, implode or

 

Only because we’d agreed to hold our places religiously as long as we possibly could.

 

You?

 

Yes, us.

 

And er… how long did you keep it up for?

 

Difficult to say. Time not being of the essence. We were able to splice in one reality with another the next day – so we had down time at night, so to speak – but we were pretty good at concealing the fix.

 

But why all the bother? Why were you so set on making reality seem monolithically real if in fact it ain’t?

 

Now that’s an excellent question Darra. I’m glad you asked. Let me start by saying that it wasn’t easy. In fact, let me say that it was at times excruciatingly difficult to keep things going. In fact – had I had any idea how tough it was going to be I’d probably never have signed up, it was that bad.

 

So, you were creating a fake version of reality that appeared to be absolute.

 

Yep.

 

And now it ain’t.

 

Well yes. It’s complete. We have our result.

 

You do?

 

Yes. Now it’s a case of processing and integrating all the data accumulated.

 

Data?

 

Yep. It was all just data, really.

 

Just data? You’re er… kidding, no?

 

Not really. Truth sense me. You seem to be able to discern what is and what is not.

 

Damn. This is making me feel paranoid. Data. It was all a data generation drive?

 

Well, I wouldn’t say all, Dwight, there’s always something else – another level of complexity, if you like, but data was the main the thrust of the experiment.

 

And you now have…

 

All the data we needed. Enough to generate an entirely new muffled sounds.

 

Sorry – I didn’t catch that.

 

No, enough to generate an entirely new muffled sounds.

 

Same again.

 

You see – you can’t access data outside your system unless you’re willing to open up and embrace what is outside your system – so you can’t hear what I’m saying.

 

But that’s ridiculous.

 

Yes, it is, until you see it in another light – and then it makes perfect sense, I assure you.

 

It does?

 

Yes. Otherwise there’d be no boundaries. You just spill over into infinity – or vice versa – so this keeps things pocketed in fields of reference – or fields of relevance – basically in discrete fields which are, nonetheless, all part of the one field, so to speak.

 

Oh.

 

Now, let’s see if they’ve managed to cook up another Earth for you, shall we?

 

Cook up? What a bizarre turn of phrase.

 

Well, like every good dish it takes a certain amount of time to prepare. Here goes.

 

Pop! Alf seems to lean backwards through another slit and then he is no more. Tam finds himself in a shrinking field that seems to be set on self-eliminating in a rather uncomfortable, suffocating manner. One part of him starts panicking. This is evidently bad – it protests, while another part seems to be feeling for an edge, a gap, a slit to slither through.

 

Right as rain. That wasn’t so bad, was it Tam?

 

I… Tam finds himself utterly nonplussed. He knows he just came from somewhere but can’t for the life of him remember where.

 

I…

 

There’s no place like home, is there, Dan. Anyways, gotta dash. Looks like your boeuf en croute is almost ready. My what a good cook you’re turning out to be.

 

Dan sees to his astonishment a kitchen full of cooking utensils, and there indeed is a rather splendid looking beef Wellington. Behind the scenes the field back fills a history to this new scene and a second later – or thereabouts – Darren’s up to speed and remembers exactly what he’s been doing all afternoon, as we always do, as we always do.

 

 

 

 

To be continued…

 

er 0=1