A Future We'd Like To See 1.27 - The Universe, Version 2.0 By Twoflower (Copyright 1993) "'Class notes, Mr. Q'woruarargnst, Reality Engineering 101. Subjects : Informsorbs OO'ooaf and OI'sswwt. Project : Final Exam, reality engineering...'" "We already know the grade, put that evaluation back," OO' whispered, tossing a pocket DNA mixer at his classmate. OI' ducked, and continued reading. "We need these notes, bud. How else are we going to figure out where they put FWLS?" OI' rasped, careful not to disturb anyone else in the Reality Engineering department. "Here we go. It says, 'OO' and OI' rewind the project, conduct appropriate after-project procedures, and the project is moved to public display as an example of what not to do. It is placed in time- replay, so that the pattern is repeated from front to back many times for other informsorbs to examine.'" "Public display?" OO' blinked. "I haven't seen it anywhere. Does it go into detail?" "Nope. Just 'public display'. Humph. He even mentions that Elf weiner who was sitting behind us. Still say he wasn't picking favorites?" A warm gust of wind blew through Mr. Q'woruarargnst's office. The two students blinked, and paused in their searching. "Either you left the door open and there was one hell of a draft outside that could make a sixteen floor journey," OI' suggested, "Or... CRUD! Hide!" OO' dumped the class notes file and leapt for a desk. OI' slipped behind a filing cabinet. The room was flooded with the traditional purple burst of light, and the Reality, Inc. official popped into the middle of the room. He glanced about, looking for the two miscreants, then double checked his palmtop editor to make sure he was in the right place. He frowned, shrugged, and started to tap in a false alarm report when OI' hit him over the head with a Probability Conditioner. The bejumpsuited editor collapsed to the ground, dreaming little bureaucratic dreams. "I KNEW this would happen," OI' scowled, tossing the Conditioner aside. "I told you we wouldn't be able to change reality without them noticing. They watch this whole department like a hawk for idiots like us that want to play god." "We ARE god, doofus," OO' replied, frisking the unconscious auditor of existence. "At least for our project. We made it, we've got the right to fix it up a little. ALRIGHT! He didn't lock the controls on his palmtop!" "So?" "So? Jeez, OI', you can be so dense at times. Now we don't have to sneak into Reality, Inc. and swipe a booth, Tardis, Delorean or whatever. We just use this. Didn't you study up on your reality editing 101 class?" "No, but neither did you." "Yeah, but I had the sense to get a memory implant instead. Well, this completes the materials, now we only need to find where Reality, Inc. stuffed FWLS... should be very easy with this guy's palmtop..." "Umm, OO', this guy's waking up." "So hit him again." *CLANG* "Alright. This thing says it's down in the basement... just need to configure it to beam us there, beats picking the locks... he's stirring again, better give him a few more whacks." *CLANG* "Okay. Ready to go?" "Wait!" OO' said. "Where'd we put the coil?" OI' blinked. "Don't you have it?" "I thought you did." "No wonder we got a C+. Can't even keep track of a simple Everything Coil." "Wait... here it is. Had it in my pocket under the gummibears." "Figures. Alright, we're off." The wind picked up, and the two informsorbs vanished in a burst of purple. * "Ow," Jones complained, holding the side of his head in pain. "More ice, please... thanks." The server droid augmented the icepack, which did a good job of beating down his headache. "They wonked you and took your palmtop," Dill said, pacing the control room. Other jumpsuit-clad bureaucrats of existence went about their business nervously, knowing what the senior editor could be like when angry. "Yeah, that's it, sir. Wonked. Ow." "So you got a warning from Reality, Inc's main computer that there was a potentially dangerous fork in time occurring in that building, and all you decided to do was take a palmtop and show up to check it out? No backup? No extra weaponry?" "I didn't think much of it, sir." "Son, we have three warning levels here. Level one, the little burps and mishaps that don't mean much. Level two, where something goes SLIP but can be edited out easily enough. Level three, where something is about to go horribly wrong and if not dealt with effectively and immediately could damage the continuum. And what level was the call again?" "Err... um... three?" "YES, THREE!" Dill yelled. "You don't act like some Indy clone recklessly jumping into a level three! You treat these things with the respect they need! Jeez, I'd bust you back in the ranks if you weren't already at the bottom rung. Computer!" *Computer here,* telepathed the main computer. "Instance 346/A, which out Mr. Jones here completely munged. Is it recoverable?" *Time to calculate : 2 minutes* "Good. You do that. And Jones?" "Yeah, sir?" Jones said, lifting the droid's arm away to stand up. "Go take a refresher course in Reality Emergencies. You'll find the forms in the front hall." Jones thanked and scraped and buttkissed his way out of the control room. Dill turned around to glare evilly at the other workers, who quickly went back to what they were doing. "Let that be a lesson to the rest of you," Dill said. "We run a tight ship here are Reality, Inc. The fate of billions times billions of souls depends on our day to day auditing of everything that exists. It is NOT a job for foolhardy excitement seekers. I don't want to catch ANY of you jumping into a rough situation without at least three people on emergency backup, GOT IT?!" The ants stirred slightly, but none of them had the guts to squeak out a 'yes, sir'. Dill assumed it was implied and resumed his work. *Projection completed,* pensed the computer. "S'bout time. Alright, can it be recovered?" *Subjects are in process of disturbing reality index FWLS at this moment,* the computer pensed. "Oh, SH--" *Danger level - 0%. Situation already recovered.* "Come again?" Dill said, genuinely surprised. The look of shock sent waves of confusion in Dill's peons, who had never seen him surprised before. "They're mucking the works up and everything is fine?" *Correct.* "Somebody get a debugger up here," Dill stated quietly to his subordinates. "I think the computer lost a screw again." * OO' and OI' appeared on a rainy urban street in a blast of purple light, splashing their denim-coated behinds in a puddle. "What's this stuff?" OI' asked, afraid. "I think it's weather," OO' said. "How can they stand it? Isn't it hard to breathe with all this liquid falling from the sky?" "We're breathing fine." "Well, yeah, but that's because our noses are under our chins, like the rest of our species. I forgot how weird you designed these guys." "Don't look at me, you're the one that picked out their facial features," OI' protested. "What do we do now?" "Well, it's very simple. We find a person, explain the coil to them, and everything works out alright in the end. Umm." The rain continued to pour. "'OI?" "Yeah?" "Do you think they'll understand the Everything Coil?" OO' asked. "I mean, you read the teach's notes, they thought it was some sort of toy when they invented it." "I've got faith," OI' said. "Come on, they can't be THAT dumb. We designed them, after all. Now, let's find someone, give them the coil, and go home before Reality, Inc. comes snooping around for us. There, someone's heading this way now." The hunched figure was busy plodding along the sidewalk, green antennae sticking up through his raincoat hood. "Say, you there!" OO' yelled to the person. "Over here!" "No, over here," the being replied. "You're in the middle of the road!" "What's a road?" OI' quietly asked his companion. "It's a primitive transport system, I think," OO' said. "I wonder why there aren't any sort of movers ar--" There was a massive flurry of honking, and a land rover roared by, wildly swerving to avoid the two students. Someone shouted a traditional Yttian curse against all pedestrians who foolishly choose to stand in the westbound lanes on rainy Thursday nights at them as the rover shot off across the city. "Get over here!" the antennaed being yelled. OI' and OO' ran as fast as their legs could take them, not wanting to encounter another of those strange metal beasts again. "Jeez..." OO' panted. "Did you make those monsters? I thought all our species were carbon-based, except for the virtual ones!" "Don't look at me," OI' said. "I just did the Ytts and Sarens." "Who are you two weirdos, and why are your noses in the wrong place?" the Saren asked, looking strangely at the two informsorbs. "Oh. Sorry, we're OO'ooaf and OI'sswwt, although you can call me OO' and him OI'. We made you and this entire universe, and we'd like to give you this. OI'?" "Hmm? Oh. Sorry, lemme get it..." OI' mumbled, rooting through his pockets. "Here you go." The Saren peered at it. "A slinky?" "Err, no, it's an Everything Coil," OO' said. "It's a model of how reality, energy, matter, and soul all intertwine to form the basis for the everything, including all of the realms, every soul, interdimensional travel, time manipulation and that sort of stuff." "I thought you just made them go down stairs," the Saren said. "I remember putting one on an escalator once when I was a kid. Quite fun." "No, it's not a toy," OO' said. "It's the explanation of everything! The reason for your existence, the meaning of life." "Which substance are you two on?" the Saren asked, backing up slightly. "Or are you toy salesmen or something?" "Maybe this one doesn't have enough intelligence," 'OO wondered. "Perhaps we should find someone else?" "Who you callin' an idiot?" the Saren said. "I'll have you know I've got a degree in mechanical engineering." "Is that anything like reality engineering?" OI' asked. "Whatsit engineering?" the being asked. "Look, I'd love to talk to you, but you're starting to scare me. Please go away, I have a blaster." "What's a blaster again?" 'OI asked the other student. "It's sort of a primitive energy burst weapon." "Damn straight it is. Now if the two of you would kindly turn around and walk in the other direction." "Why? Is there someone over there that could help us?" "Probably not." "Then why should we walk over there?" The Saren simply gave up and left, leaving the two strange things with misplaced noses standing in the rain. "Well, he wasn't of much help." "Don't panic, I'll just track down the leader of this reality on the palmtop... He should be able to help... Ah, here we are : name, Doofman. He runs the Terran Confederation." * "Wannanother whackbuggl, OO'?" Doofman asked, walking across the Oval Office to the wet bar. "You sure this guy leads these people?" OI' whispered to OO' as an aside. "I mean, he's clearly not very responsible. I think the fact that his 'IN' box is stacked to the ceiling and his 'OUT' box is stacked with dust proves that." "I'm a bit suspicious of these stains on the rug, too," OO' whispered. "So why do you want me to have this slinky?" President Doofman asked, bouncing it from hand to hand. "I have a few of my own already." "It's not a slinky," OO' repeated. "It's an Everything Coil. It's a physical model of the explanation of why everything is the way it is." "Cool," Doofman said. "So I can like figure out where I lost my car keys and stuff with it?" "Well, yes, but that's on a very low level. I can explain the nature of existence, and the grand unification theorem." "Neat. Umm. What's that?" "What, the nature of existence, or the grand unification theorem?" "Either." "The coil should explain it." "What, this slinky?" "ARGH!" OO' exploded, jumping to his feet. "WHY can't you guys figure this out? I mean, 70% of the realms that exist understand this! They can travel through time, cross dimensions, the works, but it seems the best you weirdos can manage is to make a spring walk down stairs!" "You don't have to yell, I get it," Doofman said, flopping the spring back and forth. "You do?" OO' blinked. "Yeah... lesse. So, this is some sorta metaphor for why everything is the way it is. Like, the spiral is representing how matter mixes with energy and all that, and the length represents time... and... um... infinity... and..." "Yeah? Yeah? And?" OO' egged on. "You know, I really never could get these things to do that infinite thingy with escalators," Doofman continued. "Mine would always stop or hit the side instead of going on forever. One even got sucked under the top of the stairs, and my mom had to buy me a new one." "ARGH!" OO' yelled (again), jumping forward and grabbing Doofman by his tacky plaid Presidential sport coat. "IT IS A SIMPLE CONCEPT! Come on, I almost failed the course and I understand it FINE! I created you feebs! WHY! DON'T! YOU! GET! IT!" "Eep?" Doofman gurgled, half sloshed. He scrambled about on the desk behind him, and slapped a button. Moving with speed that can only be compared to a jaguar on amphetamines, fifteen secret service agents swarmed into the room through a variety of doors, windows, cracks in the ceiling, and trapdoors in the floor. "Get 'em, boys!" Doofman ordered. With similar swiftness, about five agents tackled each of the students. "Jeez, they attacked the PRESIDENT! Off to the gulag with them!" "Um, sir, we don't have a gulag," one of the agents said, holding down a thrashing informsorb. "Hmm. Do we have a gulash?" Doofman asked. "You're gonna make us into soup?!" OO' freaked. "Well, it's a soup that eats like a meal," OI' replied. "Hmmm. Alright, off to the gulash with them!" The agents had their own way of dealing with their erratic president. 1. Smile. 2. Nod your head. 3. When out of visual range, act according to normality. "Alright, come along you two! We're going to throw you in the, um, soup," the agent said, as the fifteen agents and two prisoners promptly left the room. Doofman smirked smugly to himself, before realizing that the room was empty now and he had noone to talk to. He tried to talk to the walls for awhile, but got bored quickly and looked around for his paddleball. Hit foot bumped into something solid. "Hmm, what's this?" the tipsy leader pondered to himself, looking at the odd calculator-like thing one of the strange-nosed creatures had dropped. He picked it up and looked it over, wondering where you inserted the game cartridge. He wandered over in an aimless, bump-and-go manner to close the window, before realizing the window was already closed. Funny, then where's that breeze-- BAMF! In a blast of purple light, a very annoyed looking guy in a green jumpsuit popped into view. He looked about, spied the palmtop Doofman was holding, and frowned. "Gimmie that," the man said, grabbing the palmtop away from Doofman. "Hey, that's mine. I found it." "No it's not, it's property of Reality, Inc. I'm just reclaiming it to make sure no other fools do damage with it." "Say, do I know you?" Doofman asked, raising an eyebrow. The man looked puzzled for a moment, then thoughtful, then confused, then nostalgic, then horrified, then panicked, then reassured and calm. Doofman pondered that and tried to imitate the man's funny facial expressions, but failed miserably. "Ummm... I don't think so," the man concluded. "Yes I do. You're the guy that showed up about three hundred years ago and told me something about an error in reality, or something." "I don't know you," he tried to reaffirm, as sweat began to bead. A few more looks of anxiety passed over his face, making Doofman wonder if he was engaging in method acting or something. Maybe he just really had to use the lavatory. "Remember? You agreed to sweep it under the rug if I could line you up with some drinks and girls? Whooohoo, we hit the town that night!" "You have me confused with someone else. I am an official of Reality, Inc. We do not make mistakes." "Then why have I been the same age for the last three centuries? It's quite fun, I must admit. Thanks! Maybe I oughtta send you a thank you bouqet or something one of these days... where's that number for the florist... come to think of it, what's your address?" "Goodbye, sir. I trust you will NOT speak of this encounter with others," the man said, reassuming his gruff stance. He immediately punched out of the room with another purple burst. "Hey, wait!" Doofman shouted at thin air. "Come on, let's go party again! I haven't partied that hard since 2045!" Doofman realized he was, again, alone. But this time he managed to find his paddleball game, and got about six bounces in a row before missing. He changed the high score tally on the Oval Office Chalkboard to six, then turned in for the day to watch late night talk shows. * "I trust you had no problems?" Jones asked, as Dill BAMFed back into the control room of good 'ol Reality, Inc. "Of course I didn't have any problems," Dill said, returning Jones' palmtop. "I'm a senior officer. We don't screw up and try to weasel out of it like you junior lackeys." * About a year later, an ex-jailer from Washington, DC tried to form a remarkable new religion shown to him by a prisoner. Despite its attractive springy concepts, it never really caught on, although it led to a revolution in toymaking.