Landis looked up questioningly; another mood swing had taken place, and he had not only stopped sobbing but looked disconcertingly with it for a change. "We can fix it, can we?" he rasped. "How?"
"Um, well, just suppose," Dabbler went on, "suppose that ... Jim got the BE gun back!"
Nearby, Detective Alvarez, who in the latest variable had transformed himself into an obscenely endowed sex god and was cackling in triumph over the horrified officers and Russells, suddenly suffered a coughing fit, dropping the gun, which Jim was quick to snatch up and point at his tormentor--
"No good," said Landis in a dull voice, and the scenario shifted into low gear. "What's it matter who's using the thing, they all turn it to evil. Elvira against the Russells. Jim against Elvira. Both, against Boris and Rick. Alvarez as well. Everyone sex-slaves, or half of 'em thrown into the clink by folks with no idea what went down. Lives ruined, just to give all those fucking fourth-wallies watching out there a hard-on." Then realization lit his face, and the world hesitated once more on the cusp between dream and waking. "Or," he said slowly, "Just to give me a--"
"Maybe Jim's learned," Dabbler broke in hastily. "He started acting more or less responsibly after the gun was stolen, within the constraints of his programming. Maybe he'd use it less selfishly this time."
The surrounding scenario, in which cracks had begun to show, sped up once. Jim zapped Alvarez back to normal, and then, after some hesitation, himself. He was asking Elvira if the gun had a mind-wipe setting--
"No," said Landis, sending shivers of change through the setting. "it's inherantly corrupting. And this is Jim we're talking about, remember? Give him a little power, and what does he do?"
Jim hesitated again, looking at the gun, and then his family-cum-harem and the horde of police. Whatever Elvira was saying, he was no longer listening. He brought the gun around to bear on the beseigers, more and more slowly as he turned--
Landis laughed harshly as the world shattered and blew away yet again.
"It would work," Dabbler persisted stubbornly, "if you wouldn't keep gumming it up!"
The world was back. Jim had the gun again, but this time he was listening to Elvira--
"No it wouldn't," Landis snarled, abruptly exploding it. "Forget the fucking gun, it was written out for a reason, dig? The detectives aren't coming back, they're off on their own story. You can't trust these plot devices, they always lead to a plot!"
They were back to the basic siege, with no sign of the detectives -- or the gun.
"But--" Dabbler began.
"No! No plot devices! You've got to get rid of them!"
Dabbler's eyes widened. Plot devices....
Dabbler, said the virtual-Zorlond voice uneasily. What are you thinking?
"Plot devices!" Dabbler exclaimed. "That's it! How could I forget? This whole storyline's an offshoot of one featuring the biggest plot device of all! In fact, you could say this is nothing but a mammoth diversion to keep it from being gotten rid of!"
Landis, surprised into something like attention, stared at him. "What do you mean, kid?" he asked.
"Listen," said Dabbler, starting back toward the house, and drawing the other magnetically behind him. "Haven't you ever wondered what a two-bit camp horror actress was doing visiting the Russells? She had a purpose, and it wasn't the nutty one she gave it out as, that's just what she was sidelinked into. (Good, good, the door's open, now what about the basement...) Come on, fella, right down here."
"Why are there eight identical girls making out in the basement?" Landis asked as they reached the foot of the stairs. "Weren't they up with all the others a moment ago, and with bigger tits and bellies?"
"They're a last-ditch distraction from the big plot device," Dabbler told him. "Works every time--" Dabbler stopped and gulped as his crotch started stiffening. So was Landis's, from the look on his face. The girls turned towards them, seeming, somehow, to perceive the ghostly visitors for the first time. The action was slowing again, beginning to crack -- and simultaneously growing more solid, more real. That, or the two observers were. What would happen to them if they were participants in this variant by the time it shattered?
"No!" Dabbler shouted. "It doesn't always work!" And the girls sped up and began milling in confusion, unable any longer to perceive them. Dabbler swallowed hard. That had been close. He turned to Landis. "Elvira beat it in other threads," he explained. "So can we!"
Go back - Go to the parent episode.
Sat Oct 02 12:06:51 2004
Linking Enabled