KATACLYSM: A Space-Time Comedy (12 page)

At that moment, the image of lasagna next to the brain began to change.  At the edges of the iridescent dish, the layers began to fray and coalesce into one another, until there was barely any yellow separating the sheets of green at the periphery.

“As it happens however, near the very fringes of the universe, where I am afraid one finds the planet Earth, there is surprisingly little of the ‘tomato, cheese and meat’…and, with nothing to come between them, the sheets of pasta tend to fold into one another.  It is at these edges that even a relatively weak device like Paroophoron’s box can create holes between different sheets that are in near-contact…holes between different moments in time.”

Amaurosis Fugax rose even higher, obscuring the glowing lasagna image to heighten the drama.

“So instead of finding a tea chest in modern day Boston, he found one several hundred years in the past…and what happened next is why we are all standing here today.”

If you look carefully, you will find that there are exactly nineteen different states of matter that are achieved in one place or another in our universe.  Of these, eleven are complete rubbish.  Many people suspect that God just threw them in to allow intergalactic physicists to impress their friends with neat special effects shows that are utterly devoid of meaningful content but manage to land them sizeable grants to study things like wormholes and fractal china patterns.  Of the remaining eight states of matter, two are only useful if you’d like to knit socks while submerged in the seas of Sarcon V at a temperature of 7600 degrees Fahrenheit and at low tide.  One might question why anyone would want to undertake such an activity, especially since no one in his right mind would wear socks at that temperature regardless of the position of the tide.  Nonetheless, a pair of intergalactic physicists managed to get funding for research in this area and they were able to show conclusively that these states do in fact exist and only under those specific conditions.

Neglecting the more mundane conformations, one finds that, in truth, there is only one form of matter that is of any real consequence.  It is a form so spectacular that it actually alters the very fabric of space-time in its vicinity, a thing so wild and unique that it makes even Lady Gaga look average.  We are of course speaking about that universal sensation, the irrepressible and inimitable thing that we call tea.  Indeed, it is tea and tea alone that is the true key to unraveling the mysteries of the world around us.

Whatever the reason, tea has had a hand in all of the defining moments in every planet’s history.  Earth, of course, is no exception.  Take, for example, the case of Machiavelli.  He was inspired to write “The Prince” only after he saw what he could get his wife to do for him if he simply made her a cup of tea.  It was all purely accidental.  One afternoon while relaxing at his estate in Sant’Andrea, Machiavelli had a hankering for a cup of tea.  So he boiled himself some water.  To his disgust, he found that Orange Pekoe was the only tea left in his tea chest and he hated Orange Pekoe.  Parenthetically, this is an early demonstration of one of the world’s great truths.  While Italians have wonderful taste in many things, tea is not one of them.  None of the greatest Italian Prime Ministers, Presidents, Emperors or even Generals ever longed for a good cup of tea.  Perhaps this character flaw is the real reason why Italian armies seem to surrender with such frequency and enthusiasm.  Returning to Machiavelli, he was eager to get rid of the Orange Pekoe, so he prepared a pot for his wife.  When he presented her with the tea, Mrs. Machiavelli shook her head in astonishment.

“You know Niccolò,” she said.  “I never knew you could be so thoughtful.  If you did this for me every day I’d probably stop making love to the gardener.”

So from then on, Machiavelli dutifully made his wife a cup of tea each afternoon.  And it is true that from that day forward Mrs. Machiavelli never once popped off for a quickie with the gardener.  Of course she couldn’t have even if she had desired to do so, for on that very afternoon Machiavelli fatally shot their gardener Mario as well as six other gardeners who worked nearby just to be on the safe side.  So while the lawns in Sant’Andrea in Percussina did look a tad shabby for several years thereafter, the field of modern political science was born and all because of tea.

The fact is that even the good Lord himself has been known to throw his hat into the proverbial tea ring.  Being all-knowing, God realized that human history would be dramatically influenced by tea.  Therefore, he decided to provide the people of Earth with some help.  He personally presented the early humans with a complete dictionary which listed the word tea in every known language in the universe.  He made a big show of it, parting the sea, manifesting himself in a pillar of fire and the like.  Really went all out.  Unfortunately, this dictionary was somewhat erroneously translated by the simple desert folk into the widely read book called “The Bible”, much to God’s chagrin.  After all, this book has little if anything to do with tea or even tea preparation.  And really, anyone who thinks that God only spends one day out of seven lounging around just doesn’t know God.

Frustrated with the bloody imagery and general non-teaishness of The Bible, God decided to stop popping by the Earth for a few million years.  That’ll teach them, he thought.  Interestingly, this decision has inadvertently spurred popular religious thinkers all across the planet to give numerous lectures in bookshops that have titles like “why God doesn’t talk to us anymore.”  Sadly, the reasons they come up with are way off.  As a consequence, few humans have ever viewed tea as more than a pleasant drink.  That was about to change.

In the process of performing a spectacular cartwheel, Amaurosis Fugax had transported the group back to the past once more.  This time, by the humans’ estimation, they had gone back as far as the period of the American Revolution.  They all stood in a large room, a study perhaps, and watched as a finely dressed gentleman chastised his niece who was playing with her dog on the floor.  The décor was lavish, with medals, busts and fine wooden bookcases adorning the room.  Clearly the gentleman was a person of some importance, but as Jude, Flower and Paroophoron struggled to comprehend the dated English being spoken, they wondered why they had been taken to this place.

“…Remember as I have, at pains, tried to teach you, Sue” said the man to his niece. “For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe the horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the battle…”

At that instant another man, a servant by his dress, burst into the room with tea on a silver platter and began to address his master.  Jude let out a quiet gasp.

“My God, Flower!” he said.  “The resemblance is amazing…He could be your twin brother in costume.”

“Very good Jude.  Very good indeed,” said Amaurosis Fugax.  “Hold on to that thought.  All will be explained shortly.  For now, just watch.”

The brain and its guests stood and watched the Governor’s meeting with Crépuscule and the incident with the Orange Pekoe.  As the Frenchman exited the study, the image again faded.  When it was gone, Amaurosis Fugax’s three guests let loose a flurry of questions, drowning each other out.  The brain held up an eye, gesturing for them to wait.

“Allow me to explain please.  Up until early this past Sunday morning on the planet Earth, history showed that the man seated at the desk, Governor Hutchinson, rebuked Crépuscule and sent him away.  In that sequence of events, Hutchinson was replaced by General Thomas Gage who led the British in the first engagement of the American Revolution. In that history, though the British were ultimately defeated, the area surrounding Boston came to be permanently known as New England.”

Flower rubbed a spot over her eye, clearly confused.  By comparison, this clarified many things for Jude.

“In the history which you just saw, that is, the new history of Earth, with which you are both familiar, Hutchinson does not receive his cup of Orange Pekoe tea.  He becomes frustrated enough that, on a whim, he accepts Crépuscule’s offer and betrays his King.  With Hutchinson’s help, the French were able to surprise the British and capture the territory in a rout. And though it was only under French rule for less than three decades, being ceded to the Americans along with Louisiana in 1803, the region was henceforth known as New France.”

“I’m sorry,” said Flower.  “But I really haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about.  To my recollection, the area around Boston has always been called New France.  I’ve never heard of New England.”

“Oh, of course you have Flower,” said Jude.

“No.  She truly has not,” Amaurosis Fugax interjected.  “On Sunday morning, the people of New France went about their day as though nothing had happened…and in fact, as far as they were concerned, nothing had.  Only you noticed that things had changed, Jude.”

The brain flew up to the human so that the two beings faced each other eye-to-eye.

“On that morning, you noticed things were different.  You were surprised to hear Donald Trump as president and sounding like an actual human being, even though you vaguely remember that respect and bipartisanship were his campaign platform.  You knew that after years of therapy he had been able to stop living out his own narcissistic injury and rage cycle on Fox News, but it still didn’t seem right.  You could not understand why the National Bank of Myanmar was sponsoring the local football team even though, if you searched your new memory, you would recall that the club’s star quarterback is the first Myanmarian to play in the NFL.  You even took note of the transient heat wave that should never have happened…except that years of smoking by a French-influenced Massachusetts created a small amount of extra pollution which ever-so-slightly changed the region’s weather patterns.  You noticed it, Jude...you and only you.”

“And why me?” asked Jude.

“Yes.  Why him?  Do tell,” said Flower half-sarcastically.

“You noticed because you bear an ancient scourge, something known around the cosmic world as the alb-atros…” began Amaurosis Fugax.

“The albatross?” snapped Flower with full sarcasm.

“Forget Coleridge for the moment dear,” said the brain.  “That silly alien did love his plays on words…”

“Alien?” said Flower.

The brain’s black eye shot a look of disapproval in her direction.

“Oh, very well.  Go on then.”

The brain turned back to Jude.

“In short Jude, you are cursed.  And you have been since the day you were born…by your situation and by your parents.  You see, every generation has a person with an alb-atros and, for yours, it is you.  This cannot come as a complete surprise to you.”

“At this point,” said Jude.  “I find it hard to be surprised by anything.  But I still don’t understand.  What does it matter if I’m cursed?”

“Oh, it matters a great deal,” replied the brain.  “The burden of the alb-atros has created an awareness in you unlike that of anyone on your planet.  Why do you think that no one else noticed when the world changed?  The reason is simple.  Most people are far too preoccupied with nonsense to take note when trivial elements of their lives change into other equally trivial things.  You, Jude, are burdened with true, brutal awareness of the world around you.  But do not despair.  All negatives are balanced with positives.  With that awareness comes knowledge and, with knowledge, the ability to change the future…something you have done already.  You convinced Flower that she was in danger.  You managed to find Paroophoron’s spaceship and you managed to bring her here.”

“Now I hardly think I was responsible for getting us here,” Jude protested.

“Weren’t you though?” asked the brain.  “You were aware enough to put all of those events in motion.  I think you underestimate your abilities.  Hutchinson’s servant looked no more like Flower’s twin brother than Paroophoron there does.  Yet not even Flower was able to recognize her own great, great, great, great, great grandfather.  You did.  And if you are patient and listen to me for only a little longer, you may be able to fix this mess and rid yourself of the alb-atros in one fell swoop.

“…the thing is, we told her that she only had one or two years to live,” said Albert Avery as he addressed his residents at the weekly Morbidity & Mortality rounds on the ground floor of Massachusetts General Hospital.  “So, and I suppose you can’t fault her for this, she spent every penny in her bank account.  Had a hell of a ride for the last year and now she’s broke.  Who knew that she was going to go into remission?...Ah well, she’s upstairs for a few tests now.  At least she’s insured and won’t have to pay rent until we discharge her.”

Eric Silver was sitting at the far end of the conference table with Emily.  He appeared quite sullen to Paroophoron and the two humans.

“Why are we watching him again?” a scowling Flower asked Amaurosis Fugax.

“Because it is vitally important to understand what happens here,” replied the brain.  “This scene is occurring virtually as we speak and it will influence the events of tonight…Tuesday evening.”

“And why are we standing on the conference table?” asked Jude.

“I’m sorry,” came the response from Amaurosis Fugax who was floating alongside them above the table.  “I had to put this projection together hastily.  It’s a bit awkward, but rest assured, they can’t see us.”

“He looks awful,” said Flower pointing to Eric.

“You think that this is bad,” said the brain. “You should have seen him while he was doing a fecal disimpaction an hour ago.  Observe what happens now carefully.”

Emily pretended to stretch and leaned her head behind Eric’s.

“You still aren’t looking well.  You should take it easy today,” she whispered in his ear.

Eric pretended to look down at his notes.

“I can’t,” he said under his breath.  “I’m on-call again tonight.”

Emily gave a nearly inaudible snort.

“So what is that?  One in three?  You were doing one in two for the past two weeks.  It’s ridiculous.  Who’s making up the call schedule?”

“I don’t know.  I…”

“Silver!” shouted Avery.  “Pay attention!”

As he said this, Avery slammed his hand on the table, sending shockwaves of such force, along the flimsy conference table, that Jude, Flower and Paroophoron were thrown onto their backs.  Amaurosis Fugax continued to hover placidly as the other three dusted themselves off.