Why Aren’t the Rockets Flying?

Ah, Here’s the Cause — Another Me!

Tuesday’s Green, Made for Cleaning Toilets and Mowing Lawns … the Dull Thing Shouldn’t Even Exist Anymore!

A green? The one who called himself a “frankie,” then sauntered off to seek self-fulfillment? I wondered. How could it be here?

The AI-XIX screen displayed new letters:

“Ignore the Distraction,” my own voice muttered. “The Launcher Will Repair Itself. Get Back to the Business at Hand.”

The business in my hand — achieving immortality the way Escher and Einstein did, with a pencil. Adrenaline surged and my heartbeat pounded. Reptile, primate, cave dweller, and urban man all tried to mutiny. But now spiritual resolve felt much stronger than instinct.

It would be just like inloading, I thought, gathering strength.

Only another diversion yanked the makeshift weapon back again.

This time it was pain. Brilliant, dazzling, coruscating pain.

Yosil Has Seen My Plan — How realAlbert’s Death Whiplash May Eject Him!

Yosil Reacts, Channeling a Blast of Refined Agony to Knock Albert out of Alignment.

Poor Albert Moans at Sudden Images of Fire and Brimstone. Hellish Pangs Abet the Animal Portions That Always Come Embedded in Trueflesh, Rousing Them to Flee or Fight.

Now Yosil’s Golem Shouts from His Swinging Perch, Calling for His Daughter to Rush Downstairs — for Her to Push Albert Aside and Take His Place in the Beam!

This Will Keep Their Agreement, He Vows. But She Must Hurry.

With Seconds Left, I Must Draw Albert Back into Focus. Show Him That Pain Is an Illusion.

“Pain Is an Illusion,” my own voice soothed. The mouth spoke words from outside the brain. “Pain Is a Mirage Compared to the Hyper-Reality of the Great Soulscape.

“Gaze upon It Now, Albert.

“Behold!”

All at once, the panorama of that vast new realm spread open before me, wider and more gorgeous than any Earthly horizon, beckoning me away from a hellish abyss, replacing it with appealing cross sections from every “heaven” ever imagined.

The pleasures of sensual paradise!

The bliss of unreserved acceptance and love.

And the nameless serenity that comes with detachment from the Great Wheel. All of these heavens and more — tendered without trickery or deceit — would soon be mine.

Ours, I thought, imagining a better a world for all. All people. All life.

It worked! The visions soothed my “animal” parts, calming resistance, easing the way.

And yet -

While reaching out, I also felt the green ditto’s flickering presence nearby, now a barely mobile lump sprawled on the floor of a cold chamber somewhere upstairs in this very labyrinth, watching helplessly as the missile launcher deployed robotic repair units to dislodge a pitiful ceramic limb. The golem’s brave sacrifice had bought only a little time for the city. Minutes, at best.

Of course he knew nothing of the broader ramifications, or the greater good that would come out of all this, or the inviting immensity that awaited us in the vast soulscape.

And yet -

And yet -

There was something about the greenie lying there, so pathetic after making that grand, futile gesture.

Feelings rose unbidden within me. First a soft touch, then a tickle at the back of my throat.

A tickle that burst forth as a surprised snicker.

Then a chuckle at the hapless, one-limbed, decaying parody of me — flopping about on the floor, all wretched and friendless, without even another leg to throw, but still trying to intervene.

The image was poignant, touching … and funny!

Both tears and guffaws flowed like uncorked magma, not from mind but gut. I laughed at the piteous thing — at its courage and misfortune and utter slapstick obstinacy. Moreover, in that raw moment I knew with perfect clarity:

I’m not meant to be a god.

All those heavenly perspectives I’d been shown. They were true possibilities, ripe for reification. Only now I realized what was missing. Not one of them had a place for humor!

How could they? Any “perfect” world would eliminate tragedy, right? That meant giving up the gritty-human answer to tragedy, the defiant levity that can make even a futile gesture worthwhile, even — especially — in the face of unbearable injustice.

Aw, man. I had more in common with that ragged green than any pompous, puffed-up, deified gray.

This one insight seemed to push great billows of fog away. Suddenly feeling whole again, I hurled the stupid pencil across the room with a derisive chortle.

Then I started looking for that folding chair.

Incredible. He Refused the Offer!

Worse, realAlbert Hopes to Interfere.

I Can Stop Him. Just Reach out and Tweak His Beating Heart. Burst an Artery. Disrupt the Sodium Channels in a Few Million Well-Chosen Neurons.

I’ll Be Doing Him a Favor.

To Win the Prize, It Seems That I Must Not Only Defeat Yosil. I Must Also Imitate Him.

I Must Crush My Other Selves.

With a bit more spring in my step, I turned away from the great soul-amplifying apparatus and saw what I was looking for, a much simpler machine, right there in front of me. Grabbing and lifting the chair with both hands, I figured Pal would approve of my monkey wrench. It had pleasant heft. I felt stronger and filled with purpose as I brought it swinging down, first at the computer’s holo array.

REPAIRS 60% COMPLETE, it flashed as the fragile display blew apart, filling the air with sparkling meshtrodes. Satisfying? Sure, but that was just a holo unit. The true superconducting heart of AI-XIX lay beneath, in a pressed phenolic casing.

The chair swung up again as someone yelled. Was it Ritu or Beta, approaching as the stretched seconds ticked slowly by? Did it matter?

On the next downstroke I felt swarmed by unpleasant sensations. Palpitations in the chest. Throbbings in my arm. I might have called it painful, except I’d been taught there’s no such thing!

The CPU casing cracked under my first blow. It might take several, plus a prayer that Professor Maharal never spent extra for remote backup. I raised the chair once more — even as my lips moved, once again muttering on behalf of the mega-entity in the glazier beam.

“Albert … Yosil and I Agree on This … You Must Be Stopped.”

I wanted to shout back — the hell you say! — but a tight fist clamped around my heart, sending me reeling.

Still, the mouthed words came.

“Sorry … About This … It Must … and Will Be Done.”

That was when another voice broke in, reverberant and strange, as if out of nowhere.

Oh no, it won’t.

As suddenly as it came, the pressure in my chest vanished, leaving me to stagger, nearly blanking out. Consciousness wavered. But I couldn’t give up now. Not after witnessing the example set by that poor greenie.

I can do anything that I can do.

Gritting my teeth and grunting hard, I brought the chair down again with all my might.