Chapter twenty-three

When I was all alone again, I reminded myself to stay vigilant. I kept the crane hovering over Dion, way out there on the water, ripping up the waves; I had to stay focused because any number of terrors could be lurking in the water. At the same time, a part of me was thinking about something Dex said, how he promised to return to the deck and watch Dion surf a little. I would be alone with the robot again, which meant this could be a perfect opportunity to slay the little fucker.

As I watched the water, Dion successfully caught the face of a good-sized sized wave, perhaps a fifteen-footer; it was more like a wall than a wave. He looked so fucking cool out there; I wished thoughtlessly for a camera (but alas, nothing fell from the sky). What a story for the folks back home! Before the lip came down on him, he jumped into the water pulling the nose of the plank with him. I don’t think he really needed me to use the Magnatron to save him; Dion was a mighty good surfer.

“Ding!”

I oriented myself toward the elevator doors, but I kept my focus on the crane and on Dion, on the dangers that lurked around him. The Solomon Decksetter unit walked over to me and then turned to face where I was looking out over the water.

“No smarmy greetings, Dex?” I inquired, keeping my focus on the black knight, and yet still watching the little robot out of the corner of my eye.

“I’m done taunting you, Lester,” Dex said, with all-too-much honesty. I could tell he wasn’t looking at me; he was smiling, looking off at his inventor Doctor Demeter, way out there on the surprisingly glassy water. “If you are going to come after me and kill me, or give me calypsus or whatever, I can’t stop you. I mean, I could try to stop you, but I figure you would come after me anyway. And then – should you survive – you’d convince yourself that you had a good enough reason to try and kill me in the first place. The result of your own actions would justify them in your mind. I’m right, aren’t I?” He paused, still diligently watching his first master, the original Primary. “At least now, you’ve made yourself look foolish, and that’s enough for me.”

“You’re not right, Solomon Decksetter,” I said. “I am justified in wanting to destroy you.”

“Oh really?” There’s the sarcasm that I know and love.

“Yes, really. You’re a killer. Killers deserve to be killed. An eye for an eye.”

“Whom did I kill?” Dex said, in proper English.

“You killed my friend, a little Tarantula that I named the Queen of Shadows.”

“Oh, the spider,” he said, knowing exactly whom it was. “She was not the Queen of Shadows.”

“Yes she was,” I shot back. “I named her.”

“No you didn’t. That spider was an emissary from the true Queen of Shadows, able to suggest things to you unawares. Did you see visions in her presence? Did she make you feel happy and loved? She did, didn’t she? That’s what these creepy-crawlers do: they’re friendly at first, and then they make you do their bidding.” I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he had taken a moment to look me over. Sure of himself, he continued: “It appears that you are still under the Queen’s influence. I believe that it is at her suggestion that you desire to destroy me. You know, Lester, there are forces in this dimension that you just won’t understand. The Tarantula whom you loved was a spy; she had to be killed.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could I be under someone else’s influence? I am the mind reader around here. No, Dex had to be wrong about this, about everything. She was my Queen, and I wouldn’t fail her in this of all things. I had come too far. Quipzux could come later, but I would have to dispatch Dex here and now. And with Dion out on the water, I had to make my move.

Disengaging the powerglove, I reached over to the Solomon Decksetter unit and quickly set to touching his joints. He tried to push away my hands, but I was too fast and clever – left knee, right arm, right knee, left arm. He toppled to the ground like a stack of child’s blocks.

“You motherfucker,” Dex said quietly. “I knew this was coming, you know.”

“Then why didn’t you stop it?” I said.

“Because I know calypsus can still save me.” Dex was speaking quietly, cryptically. I looked over at Dion, he was fine: waiting for the next swell. Why wasn’t Dex calling to him for help? “I know what you’re thinking too, Chris. Because we’ve read this story before, and we know how it will end.”

Was he speaking literally? Was it possible he knew all of my intentions before I ever acted on them? That explains his quick-to-anger attitude, but it doesn’t explain why he would behave as though he hadn’t “seen the movie before.” Maybe it had something to do with calling me Chris.

“What if I go-ahead and change the ending, then?” I looked down at Dex, helpless as I had ever seen him; a metal fish flailing around on the deck of the Monmouth.

“Not possible, Mystery Thesis has already been written. The actions you take today have been previously logged. I know the story, as does Dion. In fact, he should be coming back in right now to warn you not to trigger calpysus.” So that’s what he’s expecting; me tripping Quipzux. Makes sense: it was my plan all along. I guess it’s time to go back to some of the original plans I announced to him before.

I looked out over the water, and Dion wasn’t surfing any more. He was paddling back in, making a B-line for the ship. I had to think fast: re-donning the power glove, I began to focus upon the image of a diamond-edged executioner’s axe. It worked! There – straight out of the sky – fell the answer to my dilemma. I shot my mechanical arm out to hover over my well-sharpened vehicle of dominance; instantly and magnetically I scooped it up with the chrome-head. I wrenched the crane back to its starting position and I dropped the horrifying instrument of torture right next to the helpless little fucker.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to end, is it Dex?” I had brandished the shiny axe, and resting the blade upon his neck, I took a good long moment. Dion was nowhere near the boat yet, but he was screaming at me, about Quipzux. That answered my question.

“So you are Lester, not Chris,” Dex said to me. “You look exactly like he did, you behave like him, and yet you are not him. Another stowaway; a different rat entirely. I don’t know how to explain it. The story dictates: Chris engages calypsus and Dion saves you both – that is what was supposed to happen. But you are Lester, and thus the ending was allowed to change: you are eviler than Chris, sicker than him. You let Dion and I believe you had goodness; that behind the lies there was something redemptive within you. But there is nothing, only blackness –” The blade slipped cleanly between his collarbone and chin as I dropped it onto his thick fibrous neck; the head halfway attempting to roll away from the body. I couldn’t bear to let this little shit finish his monologue.

The plasma started to flow out of his neck, sparking with electricity. I kicked the head of Dex away from his squirming body, so that the plasma couldn’t work its healing magic. It was done: I had killed him. Right about then Dion was climbing over the hempen rope; he had abandoned much of his suit of armor and the surfboard to the fury of the sea.

“What in Hades?” He said. I smiled at him, because now I knew what he was expecting, what he thought he was going to have to go through when he got back. He couldn’t look at me; instead he just ran over to hold Dex’ lifeless, artificial body.

“No calypsus,” I offered. Dion didn’t answer for a while, and I could see a tear come to his eye.

“Chris, why did you do this?” He asked. “I mean, you weren’t supposed to do this, man!”

“I told you I was going to kill him. And don’t call me Chris.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want to right now. You told me you wouldn’t kill him.”

“No, I said I wouldn’t induce calypsus, and I didn’t: no calypsus.”

“Why did you do this?” Dion repeated; now he was crying. “Don’t you get it, you idiot? He was alive! And you killed a part of me when you beheaded him; you killed my son.” I had to keep myself from laughing; I mean, Dex’ a fuckin’ robot. “I’m not like you though, man. I’m not vengeful; Momma raised me a Christian, so gimme a little time and I’m sure I can forgive even this. But we’re up paddling up crap-creek now...”

Maintaining my composure, I spoke carefully to him: “We can save the head; the book said that he could be re-printed, or something.”

“Re-imprinted.” Whatever.

“So he’s not dead,” I said. “We’ll fix him up.”

“You did this over a dumb spider, bro,” Dion said. “You are so petty.”

“Well, he shoulda known better. She was my sweetheart.”

“I’ll say it again: you are an idiot,” Dion repeated. “We can’t get to our destination too soon now; that’s how sick of your bullcrap I am. But I’ll get over it. We got bigger problems. For example, how the fuck do we get there without an acting captain?”

“Don’t fret,” I said. “I’m not that bad of a guy. I would never kill a human being.”

“Shut up about the robot right now. I don’t want to think about him, because it’s only gonna make me more angry. Let’s look at our situation: We’re stuck out here, in the middle of Pipeline, with no freakin’ way to go forward or backwards, up or down. Do you know how to get our ship to that city – what was it called? – Carthago?”

Of course I didn’t know; well not exactly. I did have some great ideas, though, now that Dex was out of the way. No more trash duty for Dion or Lester; that was certainly a plus. I even had an idea of how to get us over to that weird city.

“Let’s go to the Library,” I said to Dion. “We need to do a little research before we go anywhere.”