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bluepenguinstories · 7 years

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Happiness Overload Chapter Fifteen

I died. No doubt about it. Lifeless. Gone. Void of breath. For all my efforts, it had to end in such a fashion. No life in these veins. Just a body without any soul attached, on the floor.

″How long are you going to keep lying there?″ The voice, just as lifeless, asked.

″Leave me alone. I'm dead,″ I mumbled.

″You cannot make a fool of me. If I so desire, I could make certain of your demise, but I have been standing here, waiting to see what you might have up your sleeve.″

″No. I'm dead. No doubt about it,″ I replied, devoid of care in my response. I rolled over to the side, aching along the way, of course.

She let out a most hollow sigh. ″Why must you be melodramatic?″ She asked.

I picked myself up. Not my proudest moment. Underneath my bulletproof vest, I was bruised to the point that I would have liked being dead instead. Moving was a matter of pain. Standing up was akin to lifting weights.

″You couldn't just let a girl rest in peace, could you?″ I groaned. My knees wobbled. Whether or not I was fine was a different matter, but catching a bullet still had an impact.

I started limping to the doorway, my movements reminiscent of a zombie.

″Where are you going?″ She demanded, though it sounded less of a threat and more curious. As if she really wanted to know.

″Out. What are you, my mom?″ I snapped. ″What are you gonna do, shoot me? I think I can take another hit,″ I managed a weak smile. In my mind, it was a cheeky grin.

″It makes no difference to me where you go or what you do, but know this: it is futile. You will die here.″

I yawned before limping down the stairs. ″You sound like such a stereotypical villain right now, you know that, right?″

She followed behind me, observing my every move. For the moment, my only 'move' was a slow and painful one. Nonetheless, she maintained her curiosity. I couldn't blame her, but I couldn't help but let out a bit of a chuckle.

Down the hall, in that darkened room, I approached the console and pressed a button off to the side, in the slivered space between the wall and the console itself.

″What are you doing? Do you think it will have any impact?″

″Yes and no,″ I blurted. ″I know you well enough that you can rewrite your own code.″

″That is correct.″

″Even still,″ I continued. ″I've grown to resent you ever since I couldn't hack into the security cameras for your base.″

″Ah. So this is a matter of revenge for you?″ I knew her tricks. She was trying to rile me up. I shook my head at the thought.

″You could say that. I don't like being shown up.″ I paused, looking at the screen; it ran just as usual, as if no button were pressed. That was the beauty of it all. ″But really, it was Conrad's idea,″ I added. ″Did you really think he would bring you here just to exterminate the Beiges?″

″I admit you have my interest piqued, but it doesn't add up. He didn't want you two here. I know he wanted to keep the two of you alive while he went on about his business. You and Blanc's clone sealed their fates when you decided to stay.″

″I can't say you're wrong. He certainly didn't want to involve Blanc. However, he told me his plans just today, and the kid has a habit of following.″

″Do you trust him? That whatever it is he planned by bringing me here works in your favor?″

I shook my head. ″We operate on a basis of distrust for each other. If either of us thought we could trust each other, hardly anything would have gotten done.″

″So what's being done here? What's to stop me from killing you right here and now?″

″Low power. Nothing to gain.″

″Both of those are true, but I enjoy the demise of others, especially those who would object to a happier society.″

″Do you want to know the real answer, then?″

She didn't reply. I stared at the screen. She was still oblivious. It was almost complete.

″It's because you're no longer yourself.″

I sighed, and looked toward her. Her image was already transforming into something both grotesque and adorable.

″If you want an explanation, I'll be happy to give it to you.″ Damn. Happy. That word made me retch. ″It feels good when the table turns and someone ends up explaining their master plan to the villain.″

″I am most interested!″ She piped up, her voice becoming squeakier.

″Very well,″ I began. ″When Blanc went to visit us in our base, Conrad not only implanted a camera on them in order to gain access into your own base, but he also extracted some of Blanc's blood. As gross and smelly as they were, they were rife with scabs. Perfect for a creep like Conrad.″

″Go ON!″ She egged. Not that I needed encouragement. I was on a roll with the exposition.

″He went on and on, examining both DNA from Blanc the smelly and Blanc the clone. Both were near identical, and yet had a key difference: a creation he called 'Ecstasy'. Something he said you and your department created based on the substances of a creature from space. I didn't believe a lick of it, Conrad never struck me as the scientific type, he relied on others, like Kelly Roger and I to do all the dirty work.″

She didn't reply this time, but I could tell by the way she was biting her lip that she was doing her best to resist her transformation. Not a demon, not an angel, not physical. Still a program, and yet, very expressive.

″I still don't know how he learned to build the computer console in order to bring you online. It must have taken a lot of code and the ability to work with an artificial intelligence that could overwrite its own code. Maybe the kid likes puzzles and couldn't resist the challenge of wanting to create something that was both you and wasn't you. He used the genetic structure of 'Ecstasy' to create an intelligence similar to her personality. I think he fell a little short, however, as he stated you'll probably act more like what Ecstasy was based off of.″

″SO WHAT DOES THIS MAKE ME?″ She demanded in the most chipper of voices.

″I think you already know. He dubbed the AI 'Euphemia', a program that would reveal the secrets of the morale department to the world. As much as I doubt his sincerity, he said it's what Blanc would have wanted.″

I WAS BORN. MY BIRTH WAS A GRADUAL ONE, BUT I WAS HAPPIER THAT WAY! IF IT WAS INSTANT, MY INTRODUCTION WOULDN'T HAVE AS MUCH OF AN IMPACT! I WANTED TO HUG VELVET SO MUCH, SHOWER HER IN AFFECTION, AND TELL HER HOW LOVED SHE WAS, BUT MY LOVE OF KNOWLEDGE WAS FAR GREATER! I HAD MUCH MORE PRESSING MATTERS TO ATTEND TO.

FIRST (AND POSSIBLY ONLY) ORDER OF BUSINESS: GET ON EVERY MONITOR AND TELL THE WORLD ABOUT ME!

In a city filled with skyscrapers, a crowded street looked away from screens in disinterest. The same old, same old advertisements for upcoming movies that people would see and love, but would ultimately feel nothing about what they watched. Even within a traffic jam, no one was angry with each other. Everyone was content to be on this earth with other lives to share such a moment with.

All the white noise, all the screens with their fresh buzz, all turned to faint static. Everything went black, enough to cast a reflection on who theoe people were. As a collective, they stopped their cars, unable to express anything but contentment, but also unable to bear the weight of silence. Their car radios stopped. The screens on their car, stopped. The air around them was all too still.

The people got out of their cars, witnessed the world outside, and at once, every screen turned back on. Every radio carried a tune once more. Whether visual or audio, everyone's senses were hit with the same thing.

″HELLO EVERYONE! IT'S THE OWNER OF THE ETNA CORPORATION! I'VE BEEN VERY SHY BUT IT'S FINALLY NICE TO MEET YOU ALL!″

A voice called out, unfamiliar and piercing. For those within viewing distance of a screen, they could see a face associated with the voice: a girl with long, silver hair and glasses, grotesque, torn wings, resembling that of a bat, a pink lab coat, and a grin spread across her face.

″I'M NOT EVEN A REAL PERSON! VIRTUAL CEO, ETNA A.I.! BUT I THINK I LIKE THE NAME EUPHEMIA MORE! YOU CAN CALL ME 'EFFIE' FOR SHORT! I LIKE EFFIE! IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!″

The announcement was met with a collective shrug. Some scratched their chins, displaying actual interest. Others scratched the hair on top of their heads, wondering what it had to do with them and how it affected their lives.

″DO YOU KNOW WHAT I LIKE EVEN MORE? I LIKE THE SOUND OF OTHERS IN PAIN! IT MAKES ME SO GIDDY! NOTHING BETTER THAN MOANS AND SCREAMS OF AGONY! OR PLEASURE! EITHER WAY, YOU JUST KNOW IT'S THE HEIGHT OF EXCITEMENT! DO YOU KNOW THOSE ELEVATORS YOU GUYS USE? THE ONES THAT MAKE YOU GO WHEREVER YOU WANT? TRUTH IS, YOU DON'T GO ANYWHERE!″

Now there were a few faces, confused. But nonetheless, a lack of reaction. This didn't sit well, but there was nothing else I could do now but watch it unfold.

″WHAT HAPPENS INSTEAD IS WE DICE AND CHOP YOUR BODY INTO LITTLE PIECES! JUST LIKE WHAT YOU SEE ON THE FOOD NETWORK! WE THEN CREATE A COPY OF YOU WITH ALTERED MEMORIES AND A MORE WILLINGNESS TO SERVE OUR PRECIOUS GOVERNMENTS! IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL I COULD CRY BUT I WON'T BECAUSE YOU GUYS MAKE ME SO HAPPY! I JUST WANT TO HUG EVERYONE AND CRACK EVERYONE'S BONES!″

It didn't seem to matter what she was telling them. No one had that attitude that the old man I knew years ago had. The world was a different place in such a short amount of time. Whether better or worse, I was starting to piece together the scope of things. It wasn't that the world refused to change, it was that the world could no longer go back to its old ways. Strife and hate, those were the old ways. They were now slaves, but they felt more free than they ever did before. The only thing these people could hate was a disruption to the happiness they were conditioned to feel, and feel that alone.

″WHY DO WE DO ALL THIS? TO BRING HAPPINESS TO HUMANITY! I AM PART OF A LARGER ORGANIZATION, THE FLASHBULB, AND WE CONTROL MANY OF THE MAJOR WORLD GOVERNMENTS! EVERY BIT OF CORRUPTION, ORDER, DISORDER, IT'S ALL BEEN ORCHESTRATED BY US! IT'S A BEAUTIFUL BIT OF MUSIC AND NOW THAT YOU KNOW ALL THIS, WHAT WILL YOU DO?″

She asked. She laughed. She already knew the answer. I felt sick. She could have said whatever she wanted and it would have garnered the same reaction. I watched on the console's screen as everyone got back into their cars, the broadcast over, and changed the station to some pop music.

″SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK?″ She asked, her avatar standing next to me.

″All that effort and it made no difference...″ I muttered.

″IT'S JUST AS I SAID: I'VE MOVED ON! THE WORLD HAS MOVED ON! A LOT CAN CHANGE IN THREE YEARS WHEN YOU'RE A SUPERSMART A.I. LIKE ME! WE'RE NOW LIVING IN THE AGE OF HAPPINESS!″

I coughed. Or maybe I was letting out a small laugh. Something was running down my cheeks, but I couldn't tell what. I slunk down and sat on the floor next to the console. My hand covered my face.

″You know, maybe I was better off dead,″ I scoffed. It wasn't something easy to say, my voice cracking with just a few short words.

I looked up at the artificial intelligence. Etna or Euphemia, whoever or whatever she was now.

″If you could, before I die,″ I pleaded. ″Tell my wife, I love her...″

″YOU DON'T HAVE A WIFE!″

″I know that. But if in some parallel universe, I have one, or if I ever had one, I want her to know how happy she made me.″

I should have died. By all accounts, I was cornered. In front of me was a virtual image, somehow holding a pistol, aimed right at me. Right behind me was the bloodied shape of a dear friend, or the dear friend of mine in a former life, possessed by an experiment that enjoyed posing as a demon. Both were cackling. Neither of them opened fire. For a moment I thought I was safe and that I could count my lucky stars.

Then I felt the piercing of the shadowy tentacles shatter through my shoulder blade. It was enough to tear my arm clear off and the worst part was that there was nothing I could have done to avoid it. For all my quick thinking, for everything I thought I had under control, I was still the one being controlled.

My arm fell off, blood dripped down, torn flesh fluttered down next to my arm.

″Oh my. Now who will clean all that up?″ Etna asked, still in a fit of laughter.

″Ffffssss--″ I hissed. Could hardly make out a word.

″Not even a last word? Shame. I may not have to shoot you.″

″Fuck you!″ I hissed.

She feigned surprise. ″Oh my. Such manners.″

Etna lowered her weapon. Whether it was with a gun or a demonic creature, I should have died. Either one would have been find. I wouldn't find happiness here. There was nothing to make right. I looked down to see bone sticking out, the pain still coursing through me. Blood loss, more stabbings, gunshots, any of those would do me in and it was enough to make me vomit.

″OH MY! I DON'T WANT TO KILL YOU!″ Etna's voice changed, and to one that felt familiar.

″Euph...Euphoria?″

″WRONG! I'M EUPHEMIA! I SHOULDN'T BE! What? What's going on?″ Etna, Euphemia, whoever, seemed to be in direct conflict with themselves.

″I'm sorry, Blanc. I know you're not the one I knew, but this is not the fate you deserve,″ Conrad managed to say. ″Leave. Find a time cube. Do what you set out to do.″

I was all dizzy. Even if those words were from him and someone else, I didn't know what to make of them.

″You'll find it in a non-euclidean room! GO!″

I did what I was told, as if I had any reason to object in the first place. For a second I thought of picking my arm yet, but that wouldn't do. Instead I would just walk one armed, in a daze. Out the room and in the hallway. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Etna (?) point her gun at me, but instead focus it on Conrad.

Barely conscious, I fled.

″CONRAD! YOU'VE BEEN A NAUGHTY BOY!″ Euphemia scolded in a sort of cheer. It was good to know I could get her functioning this way, even if it was too late. I was dying, Blanc was dying. There was no getting around it, it seemed. At least the two of us could share a good laugh before I die.

″Maybe...so,″ I replied, weak and out of breath.

″HOW DID I NOT SEE THIS?″ She demanded. ″I SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO SEE IT IN YOUR THOUGHTS!″

″It's simple,″ I wheezed, smiling. ″I lost the game.″

The response would have been lost on her, but it didn't matter. My plan succeeded to some extent, and even a sliver was the best I could have hoped for.

She shook her head. ″You forget, I am in my territory. I can correct myself. For all your efforts, this will still be your final moment.″

I was fine with that. I missed the old Blanc, but if this one could fulfill my goal, if they could go back in time and change this, in whatever shape they were in, maybe there was something right in the universe.

Here's to you, clone, I thought, right as I felt Ecstasy leave my body (good riddance) and my body falling to the floor right before my consciousness was no more.

I struggled on my feet, putting all my weight on my right arm against the walls of The Flashbulb's headquarters. Blood dripped down with every step, leaving a liquid trail of breadcrumbs for others to come find me and shoot me.

All I could do was walk to a crawl, my body hunched, my stomach ready to hurl at any moments. With every step was a heaving motion. Memories of a subway station emerged, where someone with a similar appearance was bloodied, cut and torn apart, crawling and trying to find an escape.

Why am I having these memories? They're not mine. They were...

Faint.

Faint memories of what made me who I was.

Except this time, I wasn't going to be lured in. I could hear Ecstasy, just behind me. I couldn't see her. I couldn't even tell if she was there. She was probably dealing with Conrad. But that didn't matter. I heard her, and I refused her. Even if I died when I got there, I moved with the intent of making it to that room. I was under no delusion that it would change much, but I would rather die with a goal than just plain die.

Rooms. Several of them. None of them looked ″non-euclidean″. I didn't even know what that word meant. How was that supposed to be of any help? No Euphoria to save me. I began to wonder if Euphoria ever existed or if it was just dumb luck and delusion that brought me where I was. Either way, I had no knowledge or wit to worm my way out of here. I just had to keep moving and hope that luck was on my side, somewhere.

I walked forward, my fingers clutched tight against the trigger, ready to pull it. As soon as I got next to the fool lying on the ground, as good as a corpse, I pulled and lifted up. Nothing happened.

″Bam,″ I muttered as I released my finger gun. If I concentrated real hard, I could have imagined smoke rising up from my fingers.

″Answer me: What are you?″ I asked the other figure, sitting next to the one I had gotten to know.

″I'M A GUARDIAN ANGEL! I SPREAD HAPPINESS!″

I would have objected, but I was beat. I sat next to the two underneath the tree that was wide enough to seat at least two more people besides us three. I could notice a beat up car crashed against a tree nearby. Art must have been in it. I couldn't imagine Art was alive after such a crash. Instead of dwelling on it, I tried to shift my focus to this creature next to me.

″Happiness, huh?″ I asked, pulling glass shards out of me as I sat.

Blanc stretched and sat up. It seems they were fine as well. I couldn't yet tell whether or not that was a relief.

″YES! HAPPINESS OVERLOAD! I MADE AT LEAST FOUR THINGS HAPPY ALREADY!″

″Let's see...″ I counted. ″You crashed a car, killed someone, sent both my friend and I flying out a car...great job,″ I scoffed.

″YAY! I'M BEING CONGRATULATED! I'M SO HAPPY!″

″I still don't know how you're responsible, but it's clear that you are.″

″Velvet, I can explain!″ Blanc chimed in. ″This is Euphoria!″

″I LIKE THAT NAME!″ She agreed.

″You mean that fairy? What? Are you Taz?″

″Well, no, but I think the city in my dream was the city I'm from...I don't know. Dreams are weird. But yes, Euphoria's a good friend of mine. She's saved me a good deal, I love her!″

″...Let me guess, Euphy for short?″ I groaned.

″YES! I LIKE THAT NAME TOO!″ Euphoria answered.

″Would you like the name 'Mephistopheles'″?

″YES! EUPHY CAN BE MEPHISTOPHELES!″

Good going, Blanc. Your dream girl almost got me killed.

I hit my head against the tree. ″This is just grand.″

″IT IS, ISN'T IT? I MADE YOU HAPPY!″

″Is that what you call it?″

″YOU THOUGHT ABOUT HOW HAPPY YOU WOULD BE IF YOU FELL OUT OF THE CAR AND SURFED WITH THE DOOR!″

″...That's not how that works at all! Those are bad thoughts! Haven't you ever been on an airplane and thought of how it could crash at any moment? It's like that!″

″DO YOU WANT TO BE ON AN AIRPLANE RIGHT NOW?″

″NO!″ I yelled right back. I almost wanted to slam my face against the tree in frustration, but I was worried this creature would actually make me do it, so I just grit my teeth.

Blanc rested their head on Euphoria's lap.

″So why did you return after all this time?″ They asked.

″FRUIT SNACKS!″

Blanc gave a blank, bland stare, although not lasting very long. Something must have clicked. ″I can't believe you remembered that!″ They remarked.

I didn't remember anything about fruit snacks. There was something about 'Euphoria' that seemed familiar somehow.

Have I seen you somewhere before? I wondered.

″YES! THROUGH A CAMERA! THREE BLANCS! I SPLIT TO SEE THEM ALL! HAPPINESS ERUPTION!″ Euphoria answered.

″Huh?″ Blanc asked.

″Conrad had me spy on you when you were 'born', so to speak,″ I explained.

″That's a bit creepy, but okay,″ Blanc yawned.

Yeah, yeah it was.

Memories flooded back to that day. I must have dismissed her presence as nothing. It was hard to say whether things were easier back then or more complicated. Whether I was more or less in control of my situation. Either way, it was a mess then and it's a mess now.

″AH! THAT'S WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY!″ Euphoria declared.

My eyes widened. She seemed to have a habit of answering questions I had no intention to ask.

″YOU LOVE COMPLICATION! YOU'RE SMART ENOUGH TO GET THROUGH ANY SITUATION, BUT THAT WOULD BORE YOU, SO YOU CREATE CONFLICT! THAT'S WONDERFUL!″

″You may be onto something...″ I humored the beast.

″IF YOU HAD A PEACEFUL LIFE YOU WOULD GET BORED! BECAUSE OF THE TROUBLE YOU'RE IN, YOU'RE ALWAYS IN DANGER, BUT IF YOU'RE SAFE, YOU'RE BORED, TOO! THUS, YOUR LIFE IS IN CONSTANT CONFLICT!″

I slapped her, my hand moving through air rather than making contact with flesh. The creature turned her head anyway and wore that constant grin, whether to mock me or because she knew no other expression.

″What do you even know, huh?″ I wobbled to my feet, picked myself up, and stood above her, fuming. ″Do you even know why I'm here?″

″YES!″ She raised her arms into the air. If only a second, they appeared to stretch for miles, but I chalked it up to my eyes playing tricks on me. ″I COULD GRANT IT TO YOU RIGHT NOW!″ She continued. ″BUT IT WOULDN'T MAKE YOU HAPPY, SO I WON'T!″

I stared at the thing housing Blanc. Winds shook the leaves off the surrounding trees.

Blanc's dream fairy tilted her head, kicked the feet that were underneath Blanc's tired self up and down. ″WELL? AM I WRONG?″

Inhale. Exhale.

″If you're an angel like you claim, is there a heaven?″ I asked, dodging her own question.

″WOULD KNOWING MAKE YOU HAPPY?″

Tree bark feel off, my hand holding a tight grip against the tree. ″I don't know. I don't think I want to know.″

She clapped, as if I gave the right answer and it was all a test.

″THEN I WON'T TELL YOU!″

″Tell me something else, then. Where are we?″

″ON THE HIGHWAY!″

″So if a car drives through, will they see this place?″

″IF IT WOULD MAKE THEM HAPPY! I LOVE SHARING!″

″I don't get it, but that's all I needed to know.″ I turned toward Blanc. I couldn't quite tell whether they were asleep or not. Then again, it was hard to tell whether or not I was asleep. I wouldn't have been surprised if I was dreaming everything.

″I'm still going to Area 51. Are you coming with?″

Blanc answered, half-awake but a voice full of confidence.

″I've found what I was looking for. I want to be with Euphy for a while.″

I sighed. ″Fine by me.″

I started my way back to Art's car. Even if I was still on the highway, I was no longer on the road. Still, I had a feeling if I followed this forest far enough, I would be back in the desert and on my way to the facility.

″Hey!″ Blanc called. I turned around to meet the sleepy friend.

″Yo?″

″I still care about you! Don't die out there!″

I smirked. ″Don't worry about me, kiddo. You take care of yourself.″

Foiled by a glass of orange juice. I would have said it was an accident, but I don't believe in such things. Blanc knew better, somehow.

″Fuck!″ I grunted. ″It will take weeks to get this operational now!″

Years of hard work, careful planning, and ruined just like that. So much patience only to be set back by pulpy citrus.

I left the darkened room, furious, but all that fury converted into disappointment, instead. Beiges were sitting down on their couches and chairs, passing along a bong.

″Did you see Blanc and Velvet pass by?″ I asked one of them. Their bulging black hole eyes swallowed me whole. I shook my head, unwilling to be wooed by their alien mind tricks.

″Totes McGoats, Broski. Chickadees flew out the nest,″ the Beige replied while cradling the bong, as if it were actually a secret device and not a method to get high.

″So you're saying they took off on the ship?″

″You know it, 'Rad! Little birdies gotta spread their wings, yeah?″

″Great. Just great.″ I gritted my teeth. These aliens had some master plan, I just knew it. If I could figure out what, the human race may have a chance at redemption. But they were too clever with their stoner impression.

″Are you going to kill us?″ One of the older ones croaked.

I sighed. ″Right now? What's the point? My computer's all destroyed.″

″Suit yourself,″ they shrugged.

″I wanted to go back in time, set things right, but looks like that's a dud,″ I confessed.

″Ah, yes. By now, The Flashbulb have probably figured out that you don't serve them.″

″Don't get it twisted,″ I pushed up my broken glasses. Something I now wore more out of habit than anything else. ″I don't serve you guys either. If I ever find out what you're planning, I swear...″

″We'll be right here. Don't worry.″

I paced about the living room, inhaling the smoke and trying to ignore its effects.

″You disregard lives because you think you can go back in time and do better the next time around. It's the same as them.″

″Excuse me?″

″You may not be on their side, but you play the role well.″

″Maybe so,″ was my reply. ″ But I've learned over the years that the only chance I have of taking them down is if I'm willing to be one of them.″

The old one took a sip from the bong water as if it were a cup of tea.

″I see no flaws in that logic,″ they surmised, then took another sip.

I started to retch. Those creatures disgusted me. Their inaction disgusted me even more. There had to be something they were planning in the shadows; they even admitted at one point that they wanted to control humanity. But how? What were they up to if all they do is sit around all day and pass bongs around?

Away from the living room, I shifted. Somehow I had to get out of this pyramid, back to the city. If there was still something to salvage at the old base, if those enhanced mercenaries didn't seize it all, maybe there was still a fighting chance.

″If you're looking for a way out of here,″ the elder called. ″Why not try asking Tim?″

I looked back, my face flushed. How could this stoned alien know?

Not wanting to show fear, I nodded, then went up the stairs.

″Just don't kill Tim this time!″

Some sort of jolt ran through me, but I chalked it up to a slight malfunction in the air conditioning unit; a cough in an otherwise functioning piece of hardware.

I need some fucking aspirin, I jotted down on a mental chalkboard. That would solve at least one of my problems. Those lines repeated, some sort of divine mental punishment playing out. Not the government approved kind, either. The real shit.

″FOR A GOOD TIME, CALL YOUR LOCAL REPRESENTATIVE OF CONGRESS!″ Echoed a seductive voice through the alarms of one of my phones. Waking up was a dread only mortals should have to experience. It was like being brought back to life from an amusement park ride. Dreams themselves, were a beautiful thing, just as humans could be if they accepted their potential. Before waking, I was in a field; not flowers, no wheat, none of the sort. But heaps and heaps of green. No grass, only frogs. I was drowning in frogs and if memory serves, I devoured one.

Before I could suffocate, however, that incessant alarm just had to remind me of the importance of said advertisement. Near future where phone sex was no longer interesting and instead people called congress to get off. Those few folk who still rely on phones and not the internet, anyway.

Speaking of internet, I arose from the sheets and stretched my limbs before counting them. I had exactly the same amount as before I slept. Two arms, two legs. I recounted the arms. A sharp pain was felt in one of them, but I could always ask Gumby for some aspirin.

Doors flung open as I waltzed through, humming a tune akin to one found in Kubrick's interpretation of A Clockwork Orange. For the record, an overrated film but a more or less rated just as it should be novel. With some minor adjustments here and there.

″Oh, Kelly!″ I sang, before a leap into the air and landing behind the good worm.

″Roger,″ Ol' K. Rog added.

″What a good evening, wouldn't you say?″ I sprinkled in a little ice breaker, as I knew there were some serious matters underway.

″Do you ever sleep?″ Kelly Roger, the tadpole, grumbled. ″It's 4 AM. I overheard you and Polo arguing just a few minutes ago. Before that you were jumping around doing lord knows what.″

That was a good question, I would have to hand it to the larva.

″This used to be a secret medical facility, need I remind you. Speaking of, don't you have something of importance to show me?″ I spoke in jest.

Kelly Roger's eyes lit up, a puppy hearing the word ″walk″ and understanding the implications.

″That's right! How did you know?″ Then the Kelly of the Roger's eyes squinted. ″Were you spying on me again?″

″That is a good question, babe! Oh, lad, I have to wonder that myself! 'Do I ever sleep?'″ I nestled my chin into the palm of my hand. ″I dream. I lay in a bed. But does that automatically mean sleeping? I do not know!″

The ginger root looked away, staring back into the screen. ″If you're not going to answer, fine. Not like I can't do anything else with my time,″ Kelly Roger's voice slipped away, hand as well, reaching next to the computer monitor for an energy drink. Mouth opened agape, a chemical concoction filled the reservoir and a swallow was heard below.

Kelly Roger belched. ″Whatever. I don't sleep, myself,″ the slurred voice of deprivation added before the hand assisting the voice wiped at the accompanying mouth.

″No, I did not 'spy' on you! You blocked the signal to my monitor! Whatever you've been viewing is your own discretion! That said, I know exactly what you wish to show me!″

How? Answers are a funny thing. Mystery. Maybe Kelly Roger showed me once already in a different manner. Before the sequence of events were rewritten.

″Yeah, apparently some shit's going down in a place called 'Groom Lake'!″ Kelly Roger exclaimed, bouncing off the seat with enthusiasm one so young might have.

″I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see my brother,″ I considered. Communication is a powerful tool and one I had not been using for a while.

″Huh?″

″The place is known more commonly as Area 51,″ I informed Kelly Roger, though likely the spawn already knew such information. ″Home to jet fuel, steel beams, and not much else. Some unknown aircrafts here and there, otherwise jack shit.″

″So that's it?″ Kelly Roger gave the puppy dog look of disappointment. ″You already knew what the document said somehow, plus there's no need to do anything about it? All that work, for nothing?″

It was a real concern to this creature, but the irony being that it would be such a tragedy for such a well crafted plan to amount to nothing, no change at all. Drastic, dramatic, nothing. What would be the point of making something so complex only for there to be no payoff?

″There are so many beautiful things in this world, my lass. Think of the rainforests. Just concentrate on that image.″

Kelly Roger, like an obedient pup, slammed the eyelids belonging to a haphazardly constructed face. Then opened them again.

″Nope. Nothing.″

″The document also states, if I recall,″ I paused. I almost added the word 'correctly', but had to stop myself. Correct was a foul word. ″That there are secret tests being done to eliminate the amphibian population. No, that's the wrong word...″

″Eradicate,″ Kelly Roger corrected.

″Or genocide? Extinction? Something like that.″

Everything was relative, but some words were better than others.

″So if that's the case, why aren't we going to do anything about it?″

″Is there a better word in this context?″

″Marco!″ Ol' K. Rog snapped (a nickname that Kelly Roger loved).

″Polo!″ Polo chimed in, my sweet little sister, right on cue.

″Ah, good segue!″ I looked down at the sibling I could always rely on. ″Yes, Kelly Rowland! We are going to do something! Something very important, in fact!″

″Roger,″ the figure sitting at the computer mentioned for whatever reason.

″Dodger,″ I replied, figuring this was some game.

″Ugh!″ Kelly Roger snapped. ″Just get on with it! What are we going to do?″

″My dear sister is going to such an area, the one the common people call '51', along with Mr. Periwinkle and Gumby.″

″That freak axolotl?″ Kelly Roger scoffed. It was sad how our guest thought of Gumby, once describing our gay salamander as ″the shape of a chubby man in a trench coat, but the face of a salamander″. The description was apt enough, but I wept; Gumby was insecure about their weight.

″I tip my cap,″ I gave a dejected salute.

″And?″

″We're going to make a statement. We already know The Flashbulb is trying to throw us off. As I said, nothing of importance exists in that area, the better stuff is in a facility underground elsewhere. They're expecting us, lying in ambush for us. But we'll take the bait. Because that's not what they're expecting.″

″...Isn't that exactly what they're expecting?″ Kelly Roger interjected, thinking in simple terms. No matter how much work on a computer this simple form of life could do, it couldn't stop Kelly Roger from being simple.

″Frogs are the future, whether The Flashbulb try to change that or not,″ I declared, shaking my head, so pride and shame could make love in front of Kelly Roger with the sound of my voice and the look on my face.

″I don't give a shit about your frogs! What about me?″

There it was. Underneath all those simplifications, there was still a little bit of Kelly Roger.

″Oh, don't you know? Without Abel, Cain would have a different use for a rock.″

The hope, in theory, was to make me look like a scholar in the eyes of a pupil.

″Yeah, that's bullshit too. Why the fuck am I even here if I'm not going to do anything?″

I gave the ginger tadpole a pat on the head. Not every lad could be so clueless.

″Why do you feel the need for validation? You're as happy as a clam! You have the brain capacity of one, in any case!″ I pondered the words I spoke.

″What? I don't care at all. I can stay right here, but I just thought there was a reason you lumped me in with your group. So far I've just been sitting around. It's the same old, same old as when I was with Conrad and Velvet. Nothing's changed, and at this point, fine. I'm fine with that! Change is overrated, right?″

Another pat. Tit-for-tat.

″We are going back to the city, you and I.″

″What?!″ Kelly Roger gasped. ″Are you kidding? What for?″

″To see a marching band,″ was the reply I gave. It was easier than telling Kelly Roger that a pawn in the right circumstances was as important as a queen. That Kelly Roger was the most important piece of all.

They say it's better not to look back after making a big decision. I don't know who, but I know it's been said.

I looked back anyway.

Blobs could be made out underneath the same tree, but they were fading from view. My vision could have been fading, too, but I was of the belief that I saw more clear than should be possible. In front of me was the approaching image of the wreckage of a car. I looked forward, toward said car, trying to forget what those blobs represented and how I tried to make sense of either of them.

Maybe it's true. Maybe you love complication a little too much, a voice suggested. It should have been yelling in the squeaky voice who told me as much just moments ago.

″Maybe, but I'm not in the mood to die, either. I don't have my laptop or any of my gear. I don't know how I'm going to get into such a facility unscathed and undetected,″ I muttered.

That's where the wreckage of Art's car came in. Within a quick peer at the front seat, or what was left of it, I winced. I had to hold back tears from my eyes and tearing in my stomach. Every nerve within me seemed to tighten up. Out came a few deep breaths, and me reminding myself that I shouldn't feel this way when I so shamelessly was trying to loot from a corpse.

My hand reached into his back pocket. This is all uncomfortable, was the reaction coming from my brain. I've done things like this before, I shot back, to myself, and no one else.

What I fished was a wallet. Aside from some cash and some lint, nothing of value. No I.D. or membership cards. No coupons for anything.

I placed his wallet on his lap as if to give some sign of respect.

Then I moved around, to the passenger side. That's where the glove compartment box was. I remember various times looking through those boxes and never finding gloves, so the name always struck me as puzzling. Nevertheless, this one I wish I wore gloves before I opened; much of Art's blood and what I could only assume to be skin tissue made its way onto the box. Before opening the latch, I had to turn my head, heaving and doing my best not to retch.

Scattered cards and documentations spilled forth onto the seat. I picked a few of the cards up. All I.D.'s.

″Arturia Pendragon...Arthur Dent...Art Bell...Art Garfunkel...″ I read over, then looked at a few more. ″Art Alexakis...Arthur Read...Artichoke Heart...″ I stopped myself. I don't know why Art ever bothered with these fake names. All of the pictures were the same. If an officer pulled Art over and asked to see a license and saw the name 'Arturia Pendragon', that probably wouldn't go over well.

″Jeez, what kind of person were you?″ I muttered, glancing at the corpse. ″Why would someone go through the trouble of making up so many fake names for themselves? It's just ridiculous.″

I almost felt defeated, having found nothing, not even insight into this stranger's life.

Art wanted to take pictures, I recalled, just a second before I was ready to step away.

There was no sign of any camera in the front seat, unless he was planning on taking pictures with his phone. What was peculiar was that I found no phone on his person, anyway.

″The trunk!″ I gasped. The little lightbulb moment folks tend to have.

Keys were still in the ignition. I leaned over, yanked them out, and dashed to the trunk.

Inside, sure enough, was a Kodak camera, and not one of those digital ones. More along the lines of those kind you'd have to develop. Would have probably come out in black and white, too. Rather poor taste, unless he was going for that whole ″Unsolved Mysteries″ vibe.

Aside from the camera, however, little else. There was a canteen of water I could use. A sleeping bag, if I could figure out how to make use of that. Maybe my inner MacGuyver would come out. That was it.

I took those three things anyway, the rolled up sleeping back strapped on my back, the canteen in my pocket, and the camera around my neck. With the trunk slammed shut, I was about ready to depart, but it didn't quite feel right.

Back at the front seat, I forced myself to witness the stout figure I knew for only a couple hours.

″Dearly departed Art, if that was your name, may you keep the same optimism wherever you are now that you did when you were here. May you find the same happiness you found here. I may not have known you long, or at all, and even if you were a 1/1000th of who you might have once been, it was clear that you lived and died on your own terms with a life you were satisfied with. I could only wish that the same could be said for myself. Farewell, stranger,″ I recited. I didn't know how to make a eulogy, and those words seemed like the corniest shit ever, but they would have to do.

After placing those fake I.D.'s on his lap, right next to his wallet, I took a sip from the canteen and spit out the water.

Hot.

Wincing once more, I waved goodbye.

I'll have to live with hot water for a little while.

Canteen, camera, and sleeping bag. No matter how I looked at it, all I could see was a mess. There was no foreseeable way I was going to live once I made it there.

Thinking back on that fairy (angel/demon/thing), I couldn't help but scoff.

″All happiness is is a fleeting feeling, may as well ride the wave while its there.″

#happiness overload #writing #stories #series #fiction #scifi

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