Chapter 404: Plus Ultra

Chapter 404: Plus Ultra

...3! I lunged.

My plan was simple. I attack Peter with the spike, aiming for his head. Jenny would be forced to make a choice. We would all know what the deal was going forward.

Peter had all sorts of magic resistance and who knows what other ways to avoid death and various other responsibilities, but a good stab in the head was usually hard to live with.

In any case, if my theory was correct, a direct attack on Peter would cause Jenny to realise shed been compromised.

It was a good plan, I felt. A lot of answers to be gained, lots of incontrovertible facts to display. The only problem with this equation were the variables, which wouldnt stop varying.

Peter decided he wasnt going to assist me in my little experiment and ran away.

I would have thought hed go for a more theatrical form of defence. Maybe a force field, or summon a magic robot to save him. When you have a world full of magic at your disposal, some sort of show is expected. Legging it is a bit underwhelming.

The room wasnt that big, though, and he wasnt exactly in his salad days.

Hey, stop. Just let me stab you once. Its for science. I tried to get to him but the consoles were in the way. Rather than go for the nearest exit, he was staying just on the other side of the nearest console and we were going round in circles. Story of my life.

Jenny had remained where she was, making no attempt to protect Peter, or to deal with me the way she had with Claire. Was my theory wrong?

The ships, damn you, said Peter as he matched my movements to always remain opposite me. This is no time for larking about. We need to work together.

Peter was playing all coy and hard to get because he still needed me, or needed to know how I had managed to power up the spires. Once he had the secret, I was sure hed dissolve our partnership at the first bloody opportunity.

I dont care about the ships, I said. My attempt to prove (or disprove) Jennys loyalties wasnt really working as planned, but I was committed to this line of play, so I felt obliged to at least give the bastard a little prick. There are more important things to worry about than wholl rule the world. Your problem, Peter, is that you think too small. I tried lunging across the console, but Peter just jumped backwards and out of reach. He was sprightly for his age.

What is it you think any of this proves? asked Jenny. She did not seem impressed by my need for proof regarding her feelings towards me. I would have thought giving her the chance to put all doubts to rest would have appealed to her, but apparently I dont understand women. I know, a ridiculous accusation. I thoroughly denounce myself for making it.

Did I really want to prove Jenny wasnt into me as much as she claimed? I mean, as long as she had herself fooled, it didnt really matter what I thought.

But the idea of getting a firm resolution was just too tempting.

Ive seen a bomb disposal expert interviewed, and when asked if the process of diffusing a live bomb is as nerve-wracking as youd imagine, he answered no. Either you do it right and nothing happens, or you screw up and its no longer your problem. Theres no middle ground.

Thats how I felt.

Peter, meanwhile, was managing to keep the middle ground between us, which made it very hard to stab him. Inconsiderate git.

Since I was very clearly trying to harm Peter, and Jenny was not reacting in any way (other than slightly riled at being tested), that could be said to have provided me with the answer I was looking for.

But had she overcome the urge to defend Peter using the depth of love she had for me, or was it the power of being pissed off that had done the trick?

This wont prove anything, said Jenny. Even if I did attack you, that would just mean I wasnt in control of myself.

She was right, and it had even happened before, so what was I really proving?

This is different, I said. This is a direct confrontation between me and them. You get to choose in the moment, were doing it live. I gave her a thumbs up. She scowled.

It wont mean anything, insisted Jenny. You cant blame me if Im not in control of what Im doing.

The thing about having a voice in your head telling you what to do is that how many voices telling you what to do have you ignored in your life?

For most people, we spend most of our lives, certainly the early part, resisting doing what were told. The whole idea that you would say, a voice told me to do it, as a justification for doing anything is ridiculous.

Even when the person is insane, being given instructions by a mysterious voice is meaningless. Have you ever tried to tell a crazy person what to do? I have. They arent that cooperative.

In those cases, the thing the voice tells them to do is basically what they want to do anyway, in some form. They may not have a reason to murder John Lennon specifically, but if they want attention and to be famous, then thats a pretty good way to get it. If the voices were truly the product of insanity, theyd be much more likely to suggest weird shit that no sane person would do.

I mean, the voices never force people to use their gym membership and hydrate more regularly. Why not? If it was just random shit, it would be useful random shit half the time. nove(l)bi(n.)com

I am Satan. You will do as I command. Go mow the lawn.

Its a little different when magic is involved, I suppose. Like giving someone mind-altering drugs to get them to do sick and depraved stuff they would never normally do, but in those sorts of cases it requires a complete change of personality. If I suddenly started running around naked shouting, Free blow jobs for all the boys, first come, first served, you would be able to tell I wasnt my normal self. Yes, you would.

Because you deserved it, Jenny yelled back. I felt like I wasnt entirely in the loop.

What about him? I pointed at Peter who still had the spike in his neck. Why isnt he dead? Is he immortal?

He was already dead, said Claire. That isnt Peter, its just a construct Maurice made.

What? said Peter. Young lady, I can assure you

Claire grabbed the dagger out of Jennys hand and sliced off Peters left hand. It was one quick cut and the hand was off. Claire caught it before it hit the ground. The fingers were still moving, and there was no blood. It was like shed cut through clay.

You arent real, she said very coldly to Peter and handed his hand back to him. He seemed upset, as you would.

Peter died back in Gorgoth? I asked.

Yes, said Claire.

And Maurice made a new one? Why?

Claire just looked at me. If we could just tell you, dont you think we would have?

But how did he know which buttons to press? I said. Peter had just operated the spires controls like an old pro.

Maurice trained him, said Claire. He was his assistant. Helped him write that book.

If Peter this Peter had helped compiled the notebook, it suggested he might be able to help me. Was he like 288, the imp in Nekromel? I took a closer look at Peter. Was part of Maurice in there? If so, technically he was in white-face, and that shit was racist.

I am the real Peter! proclaimed Peter, shaking his hand at us. Im standing right here.

Wait, I said. If he isnt the real thing, who nailed the cool kids to the walls of the spire?

I did, said Claire.

Why?

Because I dont like them, she said slowly.

I dont want to come across all chauvinistic, but Claire had become a bit overwrought since Maurice had left her. She seemed to be sublimating her frustrations into a bit of the old ultraviolence. He really needed to come back and give her a good stuffing.

The same would apply to men, by the way. As superficial as it may seem, the therapeutic benefits of blowing your load shouldnt be underestimated. My reconnection with Jenny had more than proved that, even though wed only done it once. Well, technically it was three times, but Jenny insisted the first two werent statistically significant.

I am real, Peter muttered to himself. I am.

Claire snatched his hand out of his hand and stuck it back on his wrist where it resealed itself. He looked with wonder at his fixed limb.

Maurice spoiled him, she said. Thinks hes a real boy. She pointed at the screen. Thats what weve been waiting for, although we werent expecting them to come in flying ships. We have you to thank for that.

Whats on the ships? I asked. There was no point trying to prove they had done me wrong worse than I had done them. Might as well keep things moving.

Youll find out soon enough, said Claire. The important thing to remember is that when it all starts making sense, you owe us all an apology.

I felt she had her priorities a bit backwards, but so be it. What am I supposed to do now? I asked, since they seemed to have been preparing for this moment.

Weve done all we can, said Claire.

You havent done anything, I said.

Havent we? said Claire, and the two girls looked at me like the rest was up to me.

No. You havent. I turned to Peter. Looks like its you and me from here.

Peter slowly edged away from me until he was standing with the girls. Best of luck to you.

I wasnt really sure this was the team I wanted to be on. I wondered if there was any spare room on one of those ships.