never could be any other way

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Never could be any other way

a novelby

Maximillian Quinn


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Quinn: Never could be any other way Page ii

Crow Bird Productions, 2011


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Quinn: Never could be any other way Page iii

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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Quinn: Never could be any other way Page iv

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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Quinn: Never could be any other way Page 2

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

never could be any other way

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