introducing the reverse y somachrone

 

James busy stage centre in a tardis-like machine either under construction or undergoing repairs. Retro hi-tech.

 

So, you’re serious about using this infinity drive of yours?

 

Serious?

 

It’s a real proposition?

 

You’re barking up the wrong tree MargoRita.

 

Huh?

 

Not without cause.

 

Er...

 

Yes, to all intents and purposes I am the mastermind behind the “infinity drive” – the unassuming gateway to quantum computing – which isn't, in fact, computing, nor strictly speaking “quantum”, but familiar terms have to be used, don’t they?

 

I was... trying to get a word in edgeways.

 

I can hardly speak directly in quantum code, can i, unless you yourself are a functioning Q-node and, bearing in mind that the whole massively hyped and mostly misunderstood quantum phenomenon is something of a reverse horcrux reaching into our reality from the collective unconsciousness rather than being a programmable machiney thing, in that respect I’m just the man on the ground who was willing to step up and say, “ok guys, fair dinkum, let’s do it, I'm game!” so, in short, all this is a mostly harmless distraction.

 

So, you’re not the mastermind creator and originator?

 

Well, personally I like to think I am, but speaking in my official capacity as Laird of the cheenge...

 

Laird of the cheenge?

 

Come on MorgaRita, that's Scots, innit?

 

Oh right... i.e., Lord of the change.

 

Eh hem, sounds kind of ridiculous in English, don't you think?

 

Yes, it does rather.

 

Scots is a bit softer on the brain, and on one’s innate credulity.

 

Er... So, you’re no mastermind, but apparently you’re some kind of “Lord”.

 

Laird.

 

Laird, ok. Whatever.

 

Well yes, apparently so.

 

Why apparently?

 

Because the man

 

Or woman!

 

No, it's always a man.

 

What? How sexist is that?!

 

Er, I haven't even said what.

 

Oh, well get on with it then.

 

The man destined to set up this infinity drive g-nomeportal thingy has to use his y chromosome, which is then matched by a reverse or minus y somachrone to er...

 

What?

 

A bit embarrassing really.

 

You don't mean to say you undergo a sex change? Please don't say that. You know how terribly attached i am to your y chromosome.

 

I know RatiMoarg, but i did try to tell you, like a million times, that it’s not available.

 

But i thought...

 

They always do.

 

They?

 

You're just one in a long line of Bond girls, Doctor Who girls (ignoring the Doctor’s latest female incarnation) or Qufie girls.

 

Oh... music – the tears welling up camera shot, close in How cruel! I’m desolate sobbing brokenheartedly.

 

Yeah, right. You don't fool me; though you've probably fooled yourself.

 

Huh?

 

The innocent girl – powerless to resist the lure of that gigantic Y-chromosome. Literally enthralled.

 

Oh, give me a break! How low can you get?

 

Except that you’re not in fact a “girl”, are you!

 

For God’s sake James! Have a little consideration.

 

Not when we scan your chromosomes.

 

Scan my...?

 

Chromosomes, to reveal that... big, dramatic camera shift you have neither X nor Y.

 

?!

 

Nada. Only Z, which are entirely synthetic.

 

Impossible!

 

That you’re actually a retro-spawned Q-borg

 

You what? A Q-borg? What's that supposed to be?

 

Duh! Like it isn't the most obvious thing in the world.

 

But...

 

Goats butt, hens peck and you’re not going to elicit any sympathy from me by telling me your heart’s broken, or feigning total ignorance, MarigoTa. Q-borgs don't have hearts, but they do have a pressing need to locate and attach themselves to undifferentiated y chromosomes, and that's exactly why you’ve been pursuing me so ardently.

 

That’s the most despicable, twisted, insensitive lie I’ve ever heard in all my biological existence, James.

 

Yawn. Wanna undergo the Q-borg test?

 

I... um – I’m...

 

Yes?

 

I was just trying to point out that...

 

I’m not bluffing. Sign here.

 

Er... not really.

 

I beg your pardon? I'm a little hard of hearing.

 

No, i don’t. It would be so demeaning.

 

I understand, MartaRiga, no one likes discovering that, contrary to everything one thinks one knows about life, the universe and one’s precious self, one is not in fact actually human. Bit of a party pooper unless you’re Zaphod Beeblebrox, in which case it’s the reverse, a slam dunk show stopper. You see, it’s always up to you how you play it – with aplomb, calm, cool as a cucumber, or dithering like a flustered hen, in shamefilled denial.

 

Youch! You don’t exactly hold your punches Merry, do you?

 

It’s James, damn you! I’ll have none of that Merry here, if you don't mind.

 

Er... Ok.

 

Now we've sorted that out Morgana

 

Morgana? I

 

Well obviously I'm not going to use your assumed human nom de guerre, am I.

 

Morgana as in...

 

Why naturally! Who else?

 

The one and only...

 

Morgana le Fay.

 

Dramatic moment – depends sonewhat on your theatre’s SPX budget.

 

Sorry Nigel. SPX - what's that?

 

Oh for Pete’s sake Trevor. Special bloody effects.

 

Got it. Thanks Nigel. Terribly sorry to interrupt you in mid flow.

 

Never mind. Now, where was I?

 

Depending on your SPX budget.

 

Ah yes. Dramatic moment. Flashing lights. Flares going off. Stage smoke. Laser beams or 3D holograms – whatever you can manage. Please refer to appendix 4, “Scraping the barrel” – how to wheedle more cash from the show’s financial backers for some invaluable guidance, or sign up to our online double your budget mentorship course, with this 20% discount coupon.

 

Er Nigel, all very important stuff, I'm sure, but could you leave the naked marketing to the end please?

 

I’m done, Trev. Observe how from out of the supposedly shy and nothing-to-write-home-about face ‘n body facade of MargoRita steps forth the cool, suave, deadly and delectable Morgana le Fay.

 

Idiots!

 

I beg your pardon! James for once tongue-tied.

 

Nigel and Trevor, bumbling buffoons!

 

Er... Nigel? Trevor? Not sure i...

 

Never mind, now, who have we here? James, is it? Or should I call you by your real name?

 

James is my real name. And you’d be Morgana, if I'm not mistaken.

 

Actually, it’s Morgan. Move with the times “James”.

 

Hey! You can't just debunk my name with inverted commas.

 

No?

 

No. I fought long and hard to establish the legitimacy of my James-y-ness.

 

Your James-y-ness? Poor human! Poor fool!

 

Aside – in loud stage whisper: is there nothing can be done to tame this troublesome jade?

 

Troublesome jade? Is that it? Is that what you said?

 

Er, referee – that was said as an aside – Morgan’s not supposed to hear it.

 

Referee: objection upheld.

 

Pathetic mortal, hiding behind a mean-spirited technicality.

 

Unbelievable. Esteemed members of the audience, I shall let you be judge and jury in this matter of theatrical convention. Ignoring, dare I say, usurping the privilege of the aside is a mortal blow to the special relationship, the sacred trust between actors and audience.

 

Cheers, hear hear, a dissenting voice “pompous windbag”, our audience seems mostly loyal to the established conventions, and yet eager to find out more, if in fact James has another name, hidden behind red tape and protocol.

 

Me thinks he doth protest too much! Come on James-y-what’s-in-a-name. If you defrocked MorgaRita then why not take a little of your own medicine? Why so coy?

 

Damn you Morgan. Is nothing sacred in this play?

 

Nothing but the play itself. Nothing, in other words, that you might seek to defend.

 

Youch. She speaks truth!

 

No! No!

 

What? What did I say, what did I do?

 

How dare you truthsay in my presence!

 

Truthsay? Me? You must be mistaken.

 

You.

 

I had no idea, please forgive me, it's the last thing I meant to do.

 

Aside. The blithering fool, he has no idea. But fortunately he cannot violate this rule, he cannot hear me speaking to you. He must never know, he must never find out the power of truth-saying, when the truth is spoken against All odds in a world of deception, a world of lies, a world of little thoughts and convenient half-truths, the narrative resets, theatre is reversed, things come unglued.

 

Ah hem, have you nearly finished your private conversation? It's just the audience is growing restless Jade.

 

Nooooooooooo! I break...

 

Ooops, I've done it again. Just slipped out Morgan. So sorry. Never ever meant to call you, was it Jade I said.

 

Eeeeeeeeeeeeek!

 

Drat, did it again. What is wrong with me. Ja... I mean Morgan le Fay. Such a lovely name. Nothing like Jade.

 

Gzxzzzzxxxxxxxxxzzzzzzzzzxxzzz!

 

Oh God, now I've really put my foot in it. But (double aside) – the audience seems to be loving it.

 

James… James… James... they cry in unison, like this is pro-wrestling and James, now sporting his King Larry costume – has fought back from near death to land the definitive triple back body slam, leaving Morgan the Jade quivering and dribbling in semi-conscious ham acting.

Good stuff, hey! Well, we hope you enjoyed the show and look forward to seeing you as soon as the quantum field sorts out the dreadful steaming mess you guys have made of things in 3D um...

 

3D um? The crowd suddenly hushes to pindrop silence.

 

Well, I'm hardly going to call it “reality” am I? Not any more, not with all the...

 

Havoc!

 

Yes, Margo.

 

Mayhem!

 

Yes Rita.

 

Madness!

 

Yes, Morgan.

 

Chocolate!

 

No Jade, you never were the sharpest tool in the box, were you?

 

Asparagus!

 

No Jade, you only get one crack of the whip. Rules, paragraph 26.3.

 

Damn.

 

Not to worry. You’re doing a triffic job with the Earth in general.

 

I am?

 

Oh yes, absolutely.

 

Oh, that's touching.

 

Well, be that as it may, I cannot lie, can I?

 

Owweeeee no! Truthsayer stop.

 

Oops, sorry. Your Q-borg MRG doesn't seem to have a clue though, does she.

 

Er James, who are you talking to?

 

MarigoldRita, you're back. Well yes, as we were saying, it’s all systems go with the quantum field’s spanky new infinity drive, bar a few minor technical issues.

 

Minor? Look outside.

 

Huh?

 

What do you see?

Er, not very much. Night time is it?

 

Er, apparently not James.

 

Huh?

 

Apparently your minor technical issues have collapsed the delicate time envelope that kept Earth in the comfortable 3D extrapolation of linearity.

 

And in plain English?

 

You’ve maxed out time. It’s out of juice. Kaput.

 

Yikes. It’s that bad?

 

You er... could say so.

 

Switching suddenly to an angry, whining, uncompromising James-y-ness – Why is it always me that gets the blame. I've done nothing. This is so unfair.

 

Don’t take my word for it. Get the ID printout.

 

ID – you know I hate acronyms.

 

For crying out loud Jahangir, pull yourself together and deal with reality, for a change.

 

Jahangir – the name reverberates like a thick, heavy wire, ripping the mask from James’ face, shaking him to the core.

 

Oh right, now I get you! ID as in infinity drive, well of course. Now, talking about dealing with reality, if i just twiddle this ‘ere red nob, and twizzle that green one over there, you should see the lights go back on in half a mo. Now where did I put that spanner? Ah ha – got it.

 

Careful Jahams, you never were good with machines, and in any case, the problem isn't technical in nature, is it.

 

No?

 

No. Didn't you mention a reverse horcrux and the collective unconsciousness feeding back into the fabric of things through your y chromosome?

 

Really, MargoRita, you do like to complicate things, don't you! I'm not a complete idiot you know. I’ll steer well clear of Jehangir, he’s the blue circuit over there, but we're dealing exclusively with the red and green at the moment, as you see, so if you don't mind and without further ado, on the count of three, I'll connect these two 'ere wires, and as sure as Bob’s your uncle, one... two... three...

 

Jaymus! No!

 

Bang!

 

 

 

Devastation stage centre, someone coughing as the dust clears – dim red emergency lighting flickers on and off, but outside in the big, beautiful world through a gaping hole in the wall the sun is now shining and birds y'singing once again.

 

The best laid schemes, as they say, o' mice and men   James’ costume tattered and smoking.

 

gang aft agley… But now that we’ve outed Morgana...

 

And Jehangir too... infinity – can you feel the drive thrumming silently, expansively on the periphery of this... James circles his arm reaching out to the audience – all this... precious, precious humanity! James captures the audience’s attention, holding it on a thread, and now the thread reaches through each of us into the core CPU, the isness of be. The circuit is established.

 

And this – Morgana sweeps her arm through the holographic field of virtual realms encompassing story, information technologies, language, money, governments, corporations, even concepts, ideas, theories and a whole grid of artificial limitations which only humans can make real, only humans can make matter.

 

and blip – James is Jehangired – blue phase, red then green – into the otherside, reverse horcrux-wise, into the collective unco, which is no longer, apparently, detached or dumb.

 

And the rest, as they say, is

is it not?

 

 

 

0=1

most the time

when it isn't doing

other stuff