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
