Mercury Shrugs (25 page)

Chapter Forty-Two

“But why?” asked Red Mercury. “Why does the universe disintegrate? It seemed perfectly fine.”

“Not enough points of consciousness,” said John. “If you’d appeared a thousand years later, the local tribes might have grown to the point where the universe could rest on their shoulders, but we’re not quite there yet. Existence depends on observation. You need a critical mass of sentient observers to sustain a universe.”

“So leave the Outpost active for a while longer,” said Blue Mercury.

John shook his head. “Keeping an Outpost active in a universe where causation has begun to break down is like giving steroids to a cancer patient. You just feed the cancer.”

Balderhaz nodded. “You can’t deploy the universe without the Outpost because it’s not self-sustaining, but you can’t deploy it with the Outpost, because the Outpost exacerbates the breakdown in causation.”

“Between a rock and a hard place,” said John. “Between the devil and the deep blue sea. Scylla and Charybdis. Out of the frying pan—”

“We get it,” said the Mercurys together.

“But your simulation showed a stable universe at first,” said Red Mercury.

“Because, as I said, I was keeping it alive artificially,” said John. “I added a minimal flow of ontological energy, just enough to keep it going but not enough to feed the causal anomaly. Think of it as putting a throttle on the flow. The simulation is being fed the equivalent of roughly one one-thousandth the output of the Outpost.”

“Can you duplicate that effect in reality somehow?” asked Blue Mercury. “Throttle down the flow of energy from the Outpost?”

John shook his head again. “It doesn’t work like that in reality. The Outpost is inside the universe. Imagine a radioactive heating element in a closed, insulated room. You can channel the heat with fans and ducts as much as you like, but you have no control over the amount of heat generated. All that heat is going to end up in the room, one way or another. This simulation depends on there being a controllable source of energy
outside
the universe.”

“Multiple universes,” said Balderhaz. “One with the Outpost, and others without. The alternate universes act as safety vents for the universe with the Outpost. The energy is split across a thousand different universes, so the each get enough to sustain them without feeding the breakdown in causation.”

“I’m not authorized to create multiple universes,” said John.

“Who gives a shit what you’re authorized to do!” cried Blue Mercury. “Would it work or not?”

“Theoretically,” said John with a shrug. “But I can’t do it.”

“You mean you won’t do it,” said Red Mercury.

“The Ontological Observation Society has strict rules about these things. One failed universe is a mark on my record, but it’s not the end of the world, so to speak. But if I set up a thousand different universes and something goes wrong… the shit hits the fan. The pooch is screwed. You can’t unring that bell. There’s no way to contain the damage at that level. It could spread across the entire multiverse. No, I’m afraid it’s out of the question. I’ve got a few housekeeping chores to do, but then I’ll be shutting this place down.”

“The hell you will,” said Blue Mercury, getting to his feet. “We’ve given you a perfectly reasonable solution, and you won’t even consider it. At least get your bosses on the phone or however you communicate with them.”

“There’s no point,” said John, getting to his feet and staring coldly at Blue Mercury. “The rules are very clear. A causal breakdown of this magnitude necessitates a full abort. I’m not going to waste my superiors’ time on something like this. So if you gentlemen are finished with your beers, I will see you out.”

Red Mercury stood as well, and the two of them towered over John for a moment. John chuckled.

“Before you get any ideas about overpowering me and taking over the controls,” he said, “remember what I did to that ape.”

“We’re not apes,” said the Mercurys together.

John laughed. “No, you’re
angels
,” he said. “Immortal beings with mystical powers. Guess where your powers come from, Heckle and Jeckle?”

The Mercurys exchanged glances.

“That’s right,” said John, holding his hands in the air. “This place. The Outpost. Your so-called ‘Eye of Providence.’ And guess who controls the Outpost? Tell you what, gents. Why don’t you try using your hocus pocus on me and see what happens.”

The Mercurys said nothing. Balderhaz remained seated, watching the exchange, holding his empty chocolate milk glass in his lap.

“How about this,” said John. “A simple test.” He pointed his finger at Balderhaz, and the empty glass jumped out of Balderhaz’s hands. Balderhaz gave a small yelp and sat up straight. The glass floated toward John, pausing to hover between him and the two Mercurys. “Fill this glass with water,” he said.

“From this angle?” said both the Mercurys simultaneously.

“You’re as childish as you are predictable,” said John. “Too challenging? How about shattering the glass? Surely you can manage that.”

The Mercurys made no response.

“I have to do everything myself,” said John. “It’s fine, I’ve been doing it for six billion years.” He snapped his fingers and there was a sudden crack. The glass had shattered into dozens of little pieces, which floated before their eyes.

“Whoa,” said Red Mercury. “He broke a glass.”

“It’s a metaphor for his career,” said Blue Mercury.

“Very amusing,” said John, as the glass shards—with the exception of two large, jagged pieces—fell to the floor. The two remaining shards floated toward the two Mercurys, one toward each of them. The Mercurys tried to step backwards, but found their feet stuck to the floor. The shards moved toward their necks, stopping only when the jagged edge began to bite into the skin of their respective throats.

“One thought from me—not even a motion, just a thought—and you’re both dead. Forever. Because I control the Outpost, and the Outpost is the source of your immortality. I don’t know how you managed to tap into it in the first place; some kind of glitch in the causal matrix. But it doesn’t matter. I can shut it off with a flip of a switch. Ooh, I have an even better idea! The two of you fight to the death. Two Mercurys enter, one leaves!”

“That’s not much of a prize if the universe is going to evaporate twenty minutes later,” said Red Mercury.

“We’ll do it,” said Blue Mercury, glancing at his counterpart, “if you agree to try Balderhaz’s universe-splitting idea. Let the universe live, and we’ll fight. To the death.”

Red Mercury looked at Blue Mercury grimly, but said nothing. Blood dripped from his throat where the glass shard pressed against it.

“Interesting!” said John. “Two identical beings fighting to the death for the fate of the universe. Except, of course, you’re not truly identical, are you? Red Mercury cheated Blue Mercury out of a chance at happiness.” He took a step toward Blue Mercury, regarding his face curiously. “I can see why you’re so eager to kill him.”

The Mercurys remained silent, staring at John.

“I’ll tell you what,” said John. The shards of glass moved away from their throats, and the other broken pieces of glass leapt into the air. The pieces fused together into a glass once again. Then the glass morphed into a crystal hummingbird, which buzzed away. “Out of respect for your fighting spirit, I will seek an audience with my superiors regarding the fate of your universe.”

“Great,” said Red Mercury. “Get them on the phone right now and we’ll make our case.”

“Out of the question,” said John. “I must visit the headquarters in person. Your bodies would never even survive the translation into pandimensional form. Don’t worry, it won’t take long. Only about an hour in your time. And then I will give you an answer. But don’t get your hopes up, the rules are quite clear in this case and I have no reason to believe my superiors will grant an exemption. But if nothing else, you will have an hour to prepare for your obliteration.”

“Gee, thanks,” said Blue Mercury.

“It’s the best I can do,” said John. “I’ll see you gentlemen out and then be on my way. Follow me, please.” He clapped his hands and the display disappeared. The two Mercurys and Balderhaz reluctantly followed him out of the room and back through the entry way.

“So,” said Blue Mercury, “assuming your bosses say no, what happens next?”

“From your perspective, the Outpost will simply cease to be. In reality, it will never have existed at all. And shortly afterward, nothing else will either.”

“How shortly?”

“Hard to say. Milliseconds, probably. If you’re lucky you might get a second or two of existence, depending on the aggregate observational power of every conscious being. But it doesn’t matter, because even that time will never really have happened. There will be no mark left of this universe anywhere. Even my backups will have to be erased; can’t risk bringing the ontological impression of a faulty causal schema back to headquarters. The only thing that will remain is my own notes and my memories. Well, thanks for stopping by, gentlemen. I’ll be back in an hour to pronounce the fate of your universe.”

John opened the door and the three filed out. Blue Mercury glanced at the area on the pyramid wall where the keypad had appeared as he walked by.

“Don’t get any ideas,” said John. “I’ll be changing the combination before I leave. And the Outpost will be set to self-destruct in the case of a mis-entered code. One wrong key and the Outpost—along with your universe—goes kablooey. So sit tight, say goodbye to your friends, make your peace with… whatever. I’ll be back before you know it.” The door slid shut, with John inside.

“Now what?” asked Red Mercury.

Blue Mercury shrugged. “We wait to die, I guess,” he said.

“Man, did we land on the right name for you,” said Red Mercury.

“Whatever,” said Blue Mercury. “Let’s go tell Green Mercury the exciting news.”

The three walked away from the pyramid across the desert plain.

Chapter Forty-Three

“Son of a bitch!” Lucifer cried as he materialized on the prehistoric desert plain. “How do you keep getting ahead of me?”

“Well,” said Green Mercury, turning to face him. “It helps that there are three of me.”

“And who the hell are all these people?” Lucifer asked, noticing the crowd that Green Mercury was addressing. The crowd, in turn, stared speechlessly at Lucifer.

“Just some folks we picked up in the desert,” said Green Mercury. “Not angels or anything.”

Lucifer regarded the crowd curiously. “Are you sure?” he said. “Because a lot of them look familiar.”

“I thought the same thing,” said Green Mercury. “But trust me, they’re just a bunch of knuckleheads waiting for the Second Coming. Whatever you’re planning, it’s not going to work. There are no angels here, nobody to manipulate. If Heaven even exists, it’s inaccessible from here. And there’s no angel band. Try it yourself.”

Lucifer concentrated a moment, and a frown crept over his face. “This isn’t right,” he said.

“Disappointing, isn’t it?” said Green Mercury. “You expected somebody else to have done the heavy lifting before you got here. They set up the angelic hierarchy and you slip in and corrupt it. But there’s no hierarchy here. Nothing to corrupt. If you want to build an empire, you’re going to have to do it from scratch.”

Lucifer thought for a moment. “No matter,” he said. “It’s just as well there’s no competition.”

“Competition is the least of your worries,” said a voice from in back of the crowd. The crowd parted to reveal Red and Blue Mercury returning with Balderhaz.

“You weren’t joking,” said Lucifer, stunned. “There really are three of you.” He shook his head and regained his composure. “It makes no difference,” he said. “You still won’t be able to stop me. Soon this entire plane will be mine!”

“Go for it,” said Blue Mercury, as the three approached. “You’ve got about forty-five minutes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Lucifer.

“It means,” said Red Mercury “that before the ink is dry on your global despot business cards, this whole universe is going to vanish. You see that?” He pointed to the glinting in the distance. “That’s the Eye of Providence, also known as Outpost 73221. It sustains all of reality. In less than an hour, it’s going to disappear, and take the whole universe with it. None of this—none of us—will have existed.”

“Damn it,” said Green Mercury. “And our
Gilmore Girls
convo was just starting to get interesting.”

Lucifer chuckled. “What an absurd bluff. The three of you and Mr. Crazypants travel 7,000 years back in time and this is the best you can do?”

“Check it out yourself if you like,” said Blue Mercury. “Or go nuts with your world domination schemes. We won’t try to stop you. Either way, this is it. Game over.”

Lucifer scowled. “Well, that’s no fun,” he said.

“So that really is the Eye of Providence?” Green Mercury asked, squinting at the horizon. “Shouldn’t it be in Heaven?”

“Apparently not,” said Red Mercury. “All of reality seems to have been the result of some sort of experiment by extradimensional beings. We broke something when we both did and didn’t go back in time, so they’re shutting it down.”

“Who is ‘they’?” asked Lucifer. “You talked to someone?”

“Yeah, a guy named John. Kind of a dick. He’s checking with his superiors right now, but he basically said there’s no hope for appeal. When he gets back, he’s going to redeploy the Eye and then everything goes away.”

“Ridiculous,” said Lucifer. “I’m going to go see this thing myself.” He turned and started off toward the pyramid.

Green Mercury sighed. “Should we try to stop him?” he asked.

“I don’t see the point,” said Blue Mercury. “He can pound on that pyramid all day and it’s not going to change anything. Well, he can do it for about forty-five minutes anyway.”

“But this John,” said Lucas, who had been listening from a few feet away. “He said he’s going to come back with a verdict?”

“That’s right,” said Red Mercury.

“Then we should all go there,” said Lucas. “Maybe he’ll be more sympathetic if he has to look us all in the eye.”

Red Mercury shook his head. “I don’t get the impression that John’s a real sympathetic kind of guy. He sees universes created and destroyed all the time.”

“And kills apes,” said Blue Mercury.

“Well, we can’t just give up,” said a woman’s voice. They turned to see the woman who was the spitting image of Tiamat. The Mercurys looked at each other and shuddered.

“Do what you like,” said Blue Mercury. “I’m done trying to fix the past. I’ve been hopping from one timeline to another all day, and this is where it’s gotten us.”

Red Mercury nodded. “Me too,” he said. “I’m out.”

“Well,” said Green Mercury. “I at least want to see this guy who’s pronouncing our doom.”

Red Mercury waved his hand dismissively.

“Attention, everyone!” yelled Green Mercury. “We’re going on a field trip to the shiny thing. Everybody follow me.”

There was some confused mumbling from the crowd, but ultimately everybody followed Green Mercury. It was unclear how much they had heard or understood about what the Mercurys had been saying. Most of them still seemed too dazed and overwhelmed to make much sense of anything.

Red Mercury and Blue Mercury watched as the crowd made its way toward the glinting in the distance. “Should we go after them?” Blue Mercury asked after a moment.

“Why?” said Red Mercury.

“You know, end of the world. Doesn’t seem like a good time to be alone.”

“We’re not alone,” said Red Mercury. “We have each other.”

The two exchanged distasteful glances.

“Yeah, okay,” said Red Mercury. “Let’s go.”