Chapter thirty-one

After what-appeared-to-be-hours had passed, we removed the canvas slung around our interconnected arms. Who knows if they were hours; they could’ve been seconds or years after hearing everything Neddy had to impart to us. We re-bandaged our forearms in silence, trying not to think too hard or too much. My thoughts cleaved to the book nevertheless, and the command not-to-read had waned in my perception to a soft, faintly admonishing whisper.

“So you’re dreaming, Lester,” Dion broke the silence, and I perished my literary thoughts. Yes, he knew then what I know now, and I still couldn’t wake myself up. I’m telling you: could I have broken the spell, then I would have: I didn’t want to have to face those characters waiting for us in C-ville. Black dude continued: “I’m the one who brought you here.”

“You don’t know that,” I said, recalling something the Decksetter announced earlier. “Someone on the other side might want me, or I could’ve been abandoned. Don’t blame yourself, man.” I stopped for a moment, and then I said: “I know that you wouldn’t blame me for all this trash.”

“Like I said before, all that trash out there certainly isn’t your fault.”

“Then we both shoulder the blame, like true brothers,” I posited. Dion nodded. I noticed Ned was walking around on the deck of the ship, a bit listlessly, like he knew something bad happened up here. I felt bad for him; I imagined he was looking for Dex. Maybe they were friends. I didn’t have the heart to explain the other robot’s demise to him, so I figured I would never really know if they were companions.

“He must know about Dex,” Dion said; perhaps he felt my thoughts impressed upon his mind. “Don’t worry about him; all my robots have a process of remorse, much like that of humans. Just be there with a hug for him if the need arises.” I looked at Dion, and briefly, I was ashamed of Dex’ death. “Stop thinking about it, Lester. We can fix Dex up when we get to Carthago. You know that I forgive you, dude.”

I did know it, but it helped so much to hear him say it out loud. The robot came back to where we were on the prow, and he smiled a big counterfeit smile. I couldn’t read his thoughts, but anyone who knew how Ned normally smiled would have known he was preoccupied. Dion walked over and threw his arms around the Learned. I think a little bit of plasma leaked from Neddy’s fake eyes.

“Masters, I’ve retained the copy of Don’t Read,” the robot spoke quickly, trying to get his robotic mind off of his fallen comrade. I still wanted to read the book, but I didn’t know quite how to bring it up to Dion.

“Neddy,” Dion started to speak, but couldn’t find the words to finish. Ned just looked over Dion’s shoulder, over at me, his eyes tearing-up a little more now. I walked over and put my unbandaged arm around the both of them. Dion was right about these robots: they were exactly like people. After another hour or second or year, we untangled ourselves, lingering amid our catharsis.

“Neddy,” I said, trying to finish for Dion, “we don’t want to have to read that book.”

“Why not, sirs?” Ned said, regaining most of his composure.

“Well,” Dion said, picking up the thread. “We’re afraid that if one of us reads it, then the information we learn will be useless.”

“Dion believes –” I started a sentence, but then thought better of it. “We believe that if we read the story, then perhaps the ending might change.”

“I think that’s what occurred after I read the Mystery Thesis. I think that’s why Lester is here instead of Chris, and perhaps why Dex was killed.” Dion was choosing his words carefully now; he could have said “murdered by Lester,” but he chose not to.

“That phenomenon may be true for Mystery Thesis,” Ned analyzed. “But can you be certain that the same holds true for this text?” The Solomon Learned unit had re-produced the book entitled Don’t Read, displaying it as though he were an assistant on a television gameshow.

“I don’t think we should take that chance,” Dion said. I didn’t agree with him. I mean, what choices did we have left? Either, we come up with a good plan right here and now, or else we read the end of the new book. Otherwise we would just be sitting ducks on our arrival.

“I can’t rule it out yet, Dion,” I said, in all honesty. “We can’t just go in there with no plan.”

“Well, I can rule it out,” he retorted, “even if you can’t.” Dion was starting to get pissy with me.

“Alright then, how about we just call that plan Z for now?” I said, changing the subject, trying to garner some participation out of Dion. He avoided my gaze as I addressed him again: “Dion, tell me you have some sort of solution in mind at least, something to get us out of trouble.”

“I have something in mind, but it has nothing to do with thwarting a couple of thugs.” He was looking out over the ocean again, which surprisingly had very little trash at this point. Dion was watching that glassy tide come in and out.

“What the hell are we going to do, man?”

“I have no idea, Lester,” Dion said. His eyes were distant, and he’d already moved on to something else – he’d given up. “I’m going surfing one last time, man. I don’t really care anymore what happens when we get there, and I’m not going to hear anymore about reading any books. Do what you want, Lester, and I’ll go along with you.” With that, he leapt over the side of the boat with his plank, completely armorless.