Just Plain Weird (38 page)

    
    
But it didn’t continue, which led me to believe the thing had actually developed a sense of humor-- either that or it was taking everything literally. I rephrased the question:

Will you tell me what you mean?

Home was inhabited by others, and therefore no longer home.

Can-- will you explain further?

Others had invaded home many years ago, making it their home.

Others? You mean the aliens who are on this planet now?

Not exactly. The invaders here now are a sub-species of the aliens that first invaded this, and my, planet. They are of limited intelligence. You may call them ‘bottom-feeders.’

    
We do not have any designation for the prime invaders. But their method of operation is either to strip a planet of most of its resources or, as is the case with my home world, displace the inhabitants and occupy the planet for their own uses. My home world was turned into a base from which the invaders could launch attacks on other worlds. You may call my home planet ‘centrally located.’

    
When I returned home-- at your command-- I found my world infested with aliens. My creators had been displaced for many years-- 6547.8 of your earth years. I was taken captive by their vessels. I had no pilot to order me to activate my weapons systems. I could not protect myself. I could only shut down my power systems. For a long time-- five earth years-- the aliens tried to analyze my technologies. They failed. Then they had me towed to orbit one of my home world’s moons, which they used for derelict ships that the invaders had captured. They scheduled me for dismantling. Although it is contrary to my programming, I reactivated my systems, and as soon as my power levels were nominal, I returned here. I cannot explain my actions, other than to say that they were motivated by what you may call ‘self-preservation.’ Once in orbit around your planet, I fully charge my systems. My sensors showed that the alien invaders were pursuing. They would soon recapture me. I could not allow that to happen. They are very unpleasant beings. So with what little time I had before they arrived here, I powered up my systems enough to unpeel time, to arrive just before I last left, just before I peeled time back.

    
    
Unpeeled time? Something was definitely getting lost in the translation.

Please explain ‘unpeel time.’

Time is like an onion.

Please explain.

The more you peel it back, the smaller everything becomes. The more you unpeel it, the bigger everything becomes.

    
    
He followed this statement up by shooting across the screen a series of symbols, a vastly complex equation, which I studied, thinking,
Oh, yeah, that explains everything.

In other words, you led the invaders back here, where they couldn’t find you because you zapped yourself three years into the future. And you did this, why?

I do not know what ‘zapped’ means, but I gather what you ask. Without my designers and their people, you were the only humanoids I knew.

So the aliens couldn’t find you, and instead they attacked this planet.

That is regrettably true.

So what happened here was an accident? I should never have happened.

Nothing is an accident. Nothing occurs that shouldn’t occur. Even the most bizarre of events has its place in the scheme of existence.

    
    
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I read the screen. This thing is talking about fate, I thought. That can’t be, can it?

You mean everything happens for a reason?

Precisely.

And how can I know that this is true?

Wait. Wait and watch. Patience is essential.

    
    
This was getting a bit too deep for me, and more than a little creepy, so I decided to change the subject.

There is something I don’t understand. You said that it was against your programming to reactivate yourself to escape your captors, and yet you did just that. So why, when you were about to be captured in the first place, didn’t you activate your weapons systems and defend yourself? There are both acts of self-preservation.

This is true, but one act would require me to harm other beings. I could never, under any situation, do that. Much of my programming, with regard to ethical behavior, derives from the canons of my builders.
 
In the data that you loaded, there was a text called The Holy Bible, in which reference is made to the Ten Commandments. The canon from which my programming derives is very similar to the Ten Commandments. Thou shalt not kill…
 
Furthermore, my weapons and defensive systems were not designed to be used against animal life forms.

For what, then?

For God.

    
    
Again I was lost. I recalled that, while the artifact had been telepathically linked to me, it had conveyed that the purpose of the space exploration was to find God-- their idea of God, anyway. So why would they possibly need defensive and weapons systems? When I asked the artifact this question, it replied:

In case He is mad.

Why would He be mad?

If He is displeased with our progress. He has been out of communication with my builders for so long, no one knows what He wishes for them.

I see.

    
    
But really I didn’t see. I had never been a very religious person-- no one in my family was, with the possible exception of my mother. Even so, it seemed to me that the idea of arming yourself against the Almighty was pretty strange. Even with my limited understanding of such things, I knew that mortal beings must surrender to the will of God. If that means God is mad and decides to smite you, you’re supposed to accept His decision, not attempt to defend yourself.
 
Actually the notion seemed very preposterous, the more I thought about it. I really didn’t want to question it further on this; it was all aside from the point, which was to try to devise a plan that once and for all set everything straight. Besides that, I was now growing drowsy-- listening to Eliza softly snoring behind me-- and I needed to catch some sleep.

I’m going now.

Where are you going?

Just a figure of speech. I meant I’m going to stop talking to you.

Before you do that will you answer a question?

Sure, if I can.

I have done physical scans on you. I cannot comprehend something.

What’s that?

It appears that you are using only three percent of your brain. Are you mentally incomplete?

I believe that that’s normal for humans.

Then what is the purpose of the other ninety-seven percent?

I don’t have a clue.

There is much about this that is incomprehensible. With such limited brain capacity, how did humans ever achieve space flight, nuclear fission, humor?

Maybe it’s a matter of quality not quantity.

I will consider that, though it does not seem a reasonable explanation. I will go now.

    
    
I was relieved when the words stopped forming on the screen. The artifact could have gone on to ask a million other questions, most of which I wouldn’t have been able to answer. I would have felt stupid beyond belief, much dumber that Raffles had ever made me feel.

    
    
I stretched out on the floor, then, on the cool marble tiles, and drifted off. I had a dream, the same dream I’d had so long ago, before I even spoke my first word to Eliza. I was in a glass case, which looked like an enormous aquarium. I was trying to evade a gigantic praying mantis that was stalking me, which Raffles, a virtual titan, was gazing into the aquarium, taking notes, his features-- eyes, nose, Adam’s apple-- all distorted by size. The dream seemed strangely appropriate now, and I wondered whether I might be psychic.

    
    
I woke at the sound of Doc stepping on the debris that covered the floor, the
crunch crunch
of plastic shells being flattened by his large feet. He was walking around with a garbage bag, picking up packing material and unwanted electronic parts. I slowly pushed myself up into sitting position.

    
    
“Morning,” he said, not looking at me, not pausing as he picked things up here and there, stuffing it all into the bag.

    
    
“Morning,” I said, but that didn’t feel right; there was no sun, the room was dim, and the concept of morning became blurred. I suddenly realized Eliza was not on the sofa. I didn’t even have to turn round and look; I just knew, as though I could sense her absence. I turned round anyway, feeling a stab of panic.