The Refrigerator Light of Logic

23

2005-06-04T07:58:00.000-07:00

      "Listen, Isis," began Douglas, "I want to apologize for the way I acted before."
      Isis was caught off-guard and looked away before she spoke.
      "It's not important," she said, "I saw how the cockroaches acted. It must be very hard for you."
      "Maybe, but being good when it's easy doesn't count for much."
      "Must I be around for this?" groaned Josef.
      "Feel free to leave," replied Douglas to the mouse sitting on his shoulder.
      "Hey guys, this is hard enough," said 1 to everyone sitting on his shoulders, as he scaled the tower with bubble gum hands.
      Everyone went quiet until they reached the top. There, they went speechless.
      The small, flat, triangle roof held nothing more than a wooden desk and chair. It looked like an average workspace – with office supplies and a small picture frame – perched inexplicably above a planet.
      "He's not here!" said Douglas.
      "Of course he's not here," Josef replied, "The planetary controls are in the core."
      They all looked at Josef.
      "Then shouldn't we have gone that way?" Douglas found himself pointing at the picture frame, which turned out not to hold a goofy-looking family member, but a rather serious-looking green down-arrow. At least, it was green until Douglas pointed in its direction. Then it beeped and flashed a menacing bright red.
      Something, somewhere, clicked.
      Josef looked severely at Douglas.
      "Don't panic."
      Douglas was falling. They were all falling.
      The only thing more unsettling than the incredible speed at which they fell and the terrifying length of time spent falling was the soft, carefree music playing in the background.
      Then the scary red down-arrow flashed off and became a calm blue up-arrow. Something clicked again.
      "Fun," 1 sighed, "Douglas, you took that very well."
      "Indeed," agreed Josef, "Good show. I was afraid it would be too much for your monkey brain... Douglas?"
      Douglas screamed terribly.
      "What was that?!"
      "It is clear 3 installed a kind of –"
      "I know, I know. Some kind of super-elevator to the center of the planet, right?"
      "And the strange sensation you were –"
      "The elevator creates artificial gravity to maintain a pocket of air and keep us grounded, right?"
      "Douglas, was there an actual question you were posing?"
      "Does it have to go so fast?"
      "Fast?!" Josef scoffed, "There is only so fast you can go on gravity alone."
      "Isis?" interrupted 1.
      "Bright... so bright..." gaped Isis, who was the only one facing the door.
      The rest of them turned and were bowed to the blinding light.
      "I told you," said Isis, and walked through the door.
      The room was impossibly white. The white walls reflected every quantum of light onto massive white computer terminals arranged like solemn white pews. And on an altar of alabaster sat a very old man.

22

2005-06-03T05:29:00.000-07:00

      The Column of Unseen Fear rose from the general collapse with an air of heavenly superiority. Its crown appeared a perfect triangle whose sharp corners twisted shadowy grooves down the face of the building. A thick black line on the ground around the tower seemed to tempt the surrounding architecture to just try anything.
      "I suggest we pause here a moment," said Josef.
      "But why?" asked Douglas, "The Column is right there. We've got to -" The momentum of his sentence was lost to laughter when he saw Josef, whose fur was suddenly sticking out in every direction. "Josef, are you full of Unseen Fear?"
      "Funny," joined 1, "You look like an Ursine lint monster."
      Josef looked around and climbed a few orphaned stairs to a large, roundish rock. He began trying to push it at them.
      "Very nice," Isis scolded, "Always pick on the little guy."
      "He's not so little anymore," muttered 1.
      "Hey, we're sorry, Josef," said Douglas, "My hair feels kind of poofy too."
      The poofy mouse ignored them and kept pushing the rock, until it tumbled awkwardly down the stairs. They each stepped out of the way as it rolled toward the Column.
      "I suggest you watch."
      Instantly, an enormous branch of blue light caught the rock from above with a loud crackle. When the smoke cleared, all that remained was a freshly scorched blotch.
      "It's a giant bug-zapper!" exclaimed Douglas.
      "I'm afraid our journey has reached an end," said Josef.
      1 roared in frustration. It echoed around them.
      "What about the base of the tower?" Douglas asked.
      "It isn't charred!" replied 1.
      "I think we'll be safe if we can get over there," added Douglas.
      "Or maybe no one's made it that far," subtracted Josef.
      "Don't worry," replied Isis, who had clasped her hands above her head. She walked past all of them toward the tower.
      "No, Isis! What are you -" tried Douglas, but it was too late. She passed onto the blackened earth and was immediately struck by artificial lightning. The only thing stranger to Douglas than this beautiful robot-girl in the throes of unimaginable electricity was how happy she looked about it.
      "I'm well-designed!" beamed Isis.
      "I'll say," he agreed.
      "We've gotta be shorter than her arms, so everybody crouch -" 1 looked at Douglas, then at Josef, "Oh, all right, just me then."
      "But -" objected Josef, as 1 ran crouching across the zap zone.
      "All clear!"
      "But -" objected Josef again, as Douglas headed off past Isis.
      "That's a fun word too, isn't it?" he called back.
      "Oh, burpel," muttered Josef.
      Isis waited for the mouse to pass and then slowly followed toward the others. She seemed unreal, like a dancing puppet carried along by a single, luminous blue thread. Douglas blinked and it was over. The thread vanished and she brought her hands back down.
      "What were you trying to say, Josef?" 1 asked.
      "My modest concern," replied Josef, standing on his hind legs and dramatically staring up at the tower, "was what we were going to do once we got here."
      1 looked at Douglas, who was looking at Isis.
      "I don't know what to do," replied Isis.
      "Do about what?" asked Douglas.
      Josef was out of sighs.
      "1, see if you can scale this monstrosity. Isis, look for an entrance. Monkey, stay out of trouble."
      "But -"
      "Rest assured, if I find a banana, you'll be the first to know."
      Douglas felt a tap on his shoulder and froze.
      "Please tell me you ran around at super-robot-speed and that's you, Isis."
      "No, that's Papa Bear trying to climb the tower. I'm behind you. I just tapped on your shoulder, remember?"
      "Robots," grumbled Josef.
      "Mice," grumbled Isis.
      "What's the word?" asked 1.
      "There's no way in, but I can help you up."
      "Indeed?" Josef chuckled, "Have a gadget for that too, do we?"
      "Nope," she replied, and opened a panel in her stomach. Pinkish gobs of pink oozed out, pinkly. "I was saving this for later."
23

21

2005-06-02T05:39:00.000-07:00

      Douglas gasped. It might have been because he was suddenly surrounded by the massive ruins of a very ancient city. It might have been the way the drab crumbling buildings resembled gravestones against the pale winter sky. It might have been his memory oddly insisting that he had been somewhere like this before. It might have been all of these things, but he gasped, in fact, because the air was thin and stinky.
      "New York City!" declared Isis through gum, "right?"
      "No, no, Isis," corrected 1, "this city is dirty and inhabited by cockroaches."
      Josef and Douglas smiled.
      "It doesn't feel like Earth," observed Douglas.
      "The planet is on emergency environmentals," answered Josef, "3 has taken it too far from its sun."
      "No, the Sun is right there." Douglas turned around and pointed. "I guess it's smaller than usual..."
      "Oh no!" 1 cried, "Oh no, oh no, oh no. He's almost there!"
      "Where do we go?" Douglas asked Josef.
      "I haven't the foggiest."
      "Hold on," said Isis, and pulled a small metal sphere from the tip of her left index finger. She tossed it high in the air. "This way," she said, catching the sphere before heading off.
      "Groovy." Douglas ogled.
      A few more blocks, and they all knew where they were headed. It was a huge white tower, barely distinguishable from the huger white sky. Douglas was the last to notice it, but only because he was busy wondering if many robots got the same face, or if they got to choose, or what...
22

20

2005-06-01T05:58:00.000-07:00

      The Dining Hall, as it turned out, carried all the charm of the Throne Room, with its own addition. Spanning the center of the floor lay a long wooden board, festooned with gobs and gobs of chewed bubble gum.
      "Awggh!" exclaimed Josef. Douglas shrugged.
      "One time I looked under a cafeteria table."
      They followed the Cockroach King to the far end of the board and sat down. Soon the Hall was filled with cockroaches and the festive sound of cockroaches eating gum.
      "You do not eat!" the King said to Douglas, "What troubles you, O Great Destroyer?"
      "That, actually," replied Douglas, and was quickly struck on the cheek by a bit of gum.
      "Oh, excuse me, Great Destroyer," apologized Josef, "Sometimes I'm not very careful with my mouth."
      "That's okay," Douglas smiled, "Let me help you." He held a mouse-sized gob inches above Josef.
      "Not the fur! Not the -"
      The King clicked with laughter.
      "Earth must be a very strange place."
      "Some days," nodded Douglas, resisting the impulse to look around.
      "What did you mean before?"
      "Well..." Douglas decided the struggling pile of goo next to him was right, and chose his words more carefully. "It's just... I haven't even destroyed anything yet."
      "A-ha!" cried the King, "The Urge Hacer!"
      "The what?"
      "The Urge Hacer!"
      Douglas hit the side of his head.
      "I'm sorry, I think there's something wrong with my Babel fish. It's translating the word hacer in another Earth language."
      "What does the word mean?"
      "I don't know. Some kids in my class speak Spanish, but I don't know that much."
      "Think deep. Most of what we know hides under the refrigerator."
      "I think it means to do - but also to make."
      "Ah-ha!" repeated the Cockroach King, "Your language has no word for both! Grave dearth. Does not everything we do make a new Universe?"
      "Oh," said Douglas, "I guess, a little."
      "And that is what you are feeling, Douglas Dent! All aware lifeforms feel it - the urge to make the world better in some way. The urge to earn the life you've been given."
      "Yeah! That makes sense. What do I do about it?"
      "Anyone who would answer that question for you would be a terrible liar. You must make your own passage - I can only provide counsel."
      Douglas spent a few moments in thought. He knew what he wanted to ask, but wasn't quite sure how to ask it.
      "Is there any way to avoid passages which end badly?"
      "What a reflective question! Many suppose that they will be satisfied with something outside themselves. A job, family, friends. Not so. Everything out here, around us, is luck. Have I earned my way because I was born a King? Not so. Life is lottery. The only thing you can really earn is who you are inside." The King tilted his head, and looked thoughtfully at Douglas. "I know it's hard to believe, but even something grand like destroying the Universe may not be as rewarding as you think."
      "Let's hope not," sighed Douglas.
      The King nodded and finished eating.
      "I've enjoyed meeting you, Douglas Dent. And your friends." He addressed them all, "You are welcome to Ootheca for as long as you wish. However, there is a surface hatch just out that door and to the left. Aloha."
      The Cockroach King turned and disappeared into a crevice. Douglas turned to his friends.
      "Are we finished?"
      "Thoroughly," answered Josef, who had managed to free himself from most of the gum, "Assuming someone will unstick me."
      "I'm done," said 1, "but I don't know about Isis..."
      What had once seemed a sweet, well-read girl robot, now appeared a fast, stringy blur of pre-chewed bubble gum. She ate voraciously, and only paused to find out why Douglas and 1 were staring.
      "What?" she asked, then saw Josef trying to free his paws, "Oh! I'll help."
      "Oh -" was all Josef got a chance to say before being yet again swept into a sea of pink goo.
      "You're lucky, Josef, to have so much help," smiled 1.
      "Indeed," frowned the gum-covered mouse, "If only help weren't quite so sticky."
21

19

2005-05-31T07:37:00.000-07:00

      A winding network of musty dirt tunnels terminated in a musty dirt Throne Room. The space was awkward, the lighting a bit cheerless, and it was full of giant cockroaches. The cockroaches were assembled in two sections, creating an aisle at which Ryan and Franz stopped. At the other end of the aisle sat the largest and oldest armchair Douglas had ever seen. He was just wondering how big the King was when the room suddenly went silent. The Cockroach King had entered, much to Douglas's surprise, under the chair.
      Every cockroach stood. A few of them jumped and waved their arms. The Cockroach King crawled about halfway down the aisle toward them. He was significantly shorter than the others. He appeared to survey the scene and then returned under the chair, where he sat watching.
      "Your Royal Lowness," spoke Ryan, "These are the prisoners." He gestured toward Isis, Douglas, and 1 and stepped into the crowd.
      "Prisoners!" addressed the King, "You have interfered in the course of cockroaches. My only question is how to dispose of you..."
      Isis gripped Douglas's arm.
      "Halt this at once!" came a voice through the court. It was a small voice, but it was struggling to be very big indeed.
      "Who dares interrupt the Cockroach King?"
      "I am 3, descended from the Column!"
      A mouse appeared at the center of the room and rose upon a staff. At any moment, Douglas expected a bug to walk over and squish Josef. To his surprise, no one moved.
      "Even standing, he could hide much better than the King," someone whispered.
      "We are honored by your presence. What is the purpose of your visit?"
      "To save these prisoners!" declared the lab mouse.
      "Of course!" replied the King, "You humble us with your wisdom and your tininess."
      "Indeed!" laughed Josef, much too caught up, "And if you do not obey you shall be smote by my magical power!" He ran his staff back and forth across a twig lying on the ground.
      1 hid his face in his hands.
      "What's wrong?" asked Isis. Douglas moved to her ear.
      "They have stun guns," he whispered.
      A spark finally caught on a small, dead plant.
      "Yes, well," ignored the King, "Activate the laser show." A cockroach to the right of the throne stood up at a computer console, which produced a dazzling chaos of brightly colored lines and shapes. "And contain that 'god'."
      "Oooh," said Josef, distracted, as he was shuffled toward the other prisoners.
      "Excuse me," called Douglas to the King.
      "Yes, what is it?"
      Douglas took a step forward.
      "Hello, my name is Douglas Dent and I -"
      He was interrupted by the laser show terminal as it toppled over and crashed to the ground. The dancing lights blinked out and everything was still for a moment.
      "As I was saying, my name is Douglas Dent and -"
      The Cockroach King crawled up right in front of him, and stood.
      "And -"
      The King raised his arms.
      "I -"
      The King hopped. All of the other cockroaches stood and hopped.
      "We shall have a feast in your honor," he said, putting his arms on Douglas's shoulders, "O Great Destroyer of the Universe."
      Douglas's heart sank. There was a great deal of clicking.
20

18

2005-05-30T06:31:00.000-07:00

      Douglas tried desperately to figure out what he was looking at. It was flat and large and seemed to be quite painful. He had to push himself away before he recognized the floor. Everything else in the room came at about the same speed. A sofa. A lamp. A small table. Two people he may or may not have known. It seemed a fairly nice place if someone would have just turned off all that blinding light. Then again, something did seem to be missing.
      "Where's Josef?"
      "We don't know," answered 1, "We just woke up too."
      "Yes, but where's Josef?" Douglas insisted, trying to get up. "I feel kinda..."
      He stood and dizzily stumbled to the wall.
      "Kinda stumbly."
      "That's normal," said 1, "You've never been stunned before."
      "Sure I was!" argued Douglas, "When I saw my report card!" He laughed loudly, but it sounded even louder than that. And more like a girl. "Oh," said Douglas, because Isis was laughing too. That same lovely laugh, both beautiful and peaceful. So beautiful and so peaceful, in fact, that he decided to lose consciousness again, right there against the wall.
      When he rewoke, things seemed clearer. He felt a bit pleased, actually, that the strangest thing he had to deal with at the moment was a finely furnished living room. Sadly, however, the more comfortable things got, the more something else began to gnaw on his brain.
      "Oh no," he said.
      "What is it?" 1 asked.
      "I feel better now," winced Douglas, "I think. But I can hear Josef in my head - like in my dreams." 1 came over and examined Douglas's eyes.
      "What is he saying?"
      "I'm not sure. It's mumbled. Something like 'Your stop signs are not red.'"
      1 put his ear on the wall and waited.
      "Yup, I hear it too. Sounds like 'You're stinky, but not dead.'"
      "Your candy is for Ted."
      "You're sleeping in my bed?"
      Isis screamed and ran behind the arm of the sofa. Douglas and 1 were both alarmed. She poked her head out.
      "Right?" she asked, smiling, "The three little bears."
      "Oh!" said 1, "Bravo, Isis. But I don't think that's what he's saying. Could you run it through some filters?"
      Isis joined them at the wall and closed her eyes. Douglas watched her closely. After a few moments she stepped back and opened her mouth.
      "You're standing on my head!" came Josef's voice.
      "You're standing on my head?" wondered 1, "What does that mean?"
      Slowly, they all looked down at Douglas's foot, pressed firmly against the wall. He lifted it.
      "Oh!" cried Isis, and went to rescue the lab mouse, who had nibbled a hole through the wall. "Poor thing! Did he squish you with his big, mean shoe?"
      "I..." protested Douglas, but when she looked at him, she smiled.
      "Where have you been?" continued Isis.
      "Cockroaches." answered Josef, exhausted, "Wretched things didn't even notice me, so I stowed away when they brought you back."
      "Back?" asked 1.
      "Here, to their planet Ootheca, which I'm fairly certain -"
      "Stop!" interrupted Douglas, "Just... stop. Aren't there any alien creatures in outer space? The turkeys I could accept. They looked mostly not like turkeys, after all, and there was a logical explanation as to how they might spread across the galaxy. But now, cockroaches? I mean, why did we even bother to leave Earth?"
      "This is Earth," said Josef, "of course. The rogue Earth."
      "Oh. Oh, well, that's all right, then."
      "And for the record, these are some of the strangest creatures I've ever seen. However, if what they did to the Hyperborean is any indication, now is not the time for a study in sentient entomology."
      "Cockroaches must have been the only animals to survive 3's experiment..." Douglas thought out loud.
      "Do they know 3?" asked 1.
      "They believe 3 is God and say he lives on the Column of Unseen Fear, but I have no idea where, or if, such a place exists."
      "...And then they evolved..." continued Douglas.
      "I'm fascinated," replied Josef snidely, "right in the hindlimb. But we need to get you out of here." There was a thud at the door. "I'll do what I can!" blurted the lab mouse as he disappeared back into the wall. The cell door opened.
      Douglas suddenly realized he'd never taken the time to really look at a cockroach. He simultaneously realized that there are some things you never have to try to know they'll end up ick.
      Each had six hairy limbs, which sprouted from their shiny, burnt-orange middles. Below was a round, layered abdomen that ended in dangerous looking horns. Above, their heads were black with short proboscises dangling from their cheeks and ridiculously long antennae coming out of their eyes.
      "I hate coming in here, Franz. The bright light, the fresh furniture. Place gives me the creeps."
      "All right, prisoners, let's go. Time for your trial."
      Douglas marched right up to Ryan, whom he only recognized by voice.
      "Why did you destroy the Hyperborean?" he demanded.
      "Same reason you blew up that perfectly good mouse ship," replied Ryan.
      "That was an accident!"
      "Oh," said Ryan, "Well, no, we do it on purpose. It's cockroach nature. Well, except for Franz. He had an unhappy childhood."
      Franz did something with his face which might have been grinning. It might not have been.
19

17

2005-05-29T05:59:00.000-07:00

      Douglas followed the signs blindly. Lights winked around him, glass crunched under his weight. An occasional tremor stole his balance and he would have to stand, begin again. Though dreaming of a turn which might take him somewhere far from here - back somewhere he belonged - he only turned when he had to. Fearful now, he approached the doorway of the Engine Room and listened.
      Laughter. Wait - laughter? 1 and Josef were laughing! This took Douglas so by surprise that it took him a few sincere efforts to achieve the right false smile.
      "Hey, everybody!"
      "You popped the bubble!" laughed Josef.
      "Popped the bubble!" roared 1.
      "We're stranded on a doomed ship!"
      "Doomed doom doom doom."
      "At least you're not mad!" Douglas laughed along.
      "No, there's a nitrous oxide leak!" squeaked Josef, "It's making us silly!"
      "I've fixed it now," chuckled 1.
      "We are actually quite angry," said Josef, suddenly very serious.
      "Oh," frowned Douglas.
      "I found it!" yelled Isis, racing into the room, "The Captain's journal!" She held a holodisk in her hand, and switched it on.
      The Engine Room lights flickered a little, then dimmed. A tall, furry cone appeared in blue light above a panel near Douglas. The cone wore a small hat, and a hole opened about halfway down its body.
      "...she is welcome to read whenever she wants to," came from the hole, "but I found her hiding in the closet again. I don't know why she -"
      "Sorry," interrupted Isis, and pressed another button. The image cut out and returned.
      "We're under attack!" screamed the conical Captain. Isis smiled. "If anyone finds this, you should immediately..." He paused. "Right away you need to... uh..." Stripes started to show on his front. "Oh, this is so insensitive of me." He turned. "What is that thing you guys do with your legs?"
      "Dance?" guessed someone in the background.
      "Play croquet?" answered someone else.
      "No, no, Llorrac. With your legs. When you're in a hurry."
      "Great quantities of honey!" Llorrac tried again.
      "Scurry or scamper?" asked the first voice, "Scuttle, maybe?"
      "Scuttle!" announced the Captain, "Well, maybe. No - Not quite the right word."
      "Churches?"
      An explosion in the recording drowned out the discussion. Pale blue sparks rained down.
      "Run!" shouted a new voice.
      "Ah yes, finally," grinned the Captain, "Run. Kind of a funny word. I wonder if it always sounds like what it means. You know, in most languages? Anyway, as I was saying..." He turned forward again. "Run! Run away! A horrible gigantic bug has destroyed our ship! O horrible! It may come back!"
      The holodisk clicked off, and the lights flickered on. The room was silent for a moment.
      "My name," said someone from the doorway, "is Ryan." Everyone turned to see who Ryan was, and, perhaps, whether or not he was a horrible gigantic bug. Everyone, of course, except for Ryan. Ryan already knew that he was a horrible gigantic bug.
      "He really is insensitive," said Ryan.
18

16

2005-05-28T06:53:00.000-07:00

      "Research?!" whined Douglas loudly.
      "Indeed," agreed Josef, "Someone needs to scour the sensor readings stored in the flight record database."
      "But I got out of research to come with you guys!" Douglas looked around at the futuristic arcade of computer displays and interface controllers. He looked back at the panel in front of him which read: Very small rock. (7 days ago, result 1 of 8,243,721). "Isn't there anything else I could do?"
      "Short of a degree in Stress Impact Probability Mapping?"
      "Yes."
      "No." Josef hopped off the control counter and headed for the door. "Remember Douglas, these terminals provide total access to ship functions. Please be careful."
      Douglas sighed, slouched, and selected the next entry.
      Very small rock.
      It was two and a half very small rocks later that his eyes began to wander. They were mostly as bored by the rest of the touchscreen as they were by the sensor readings. But it was after the disappointing distraction of a medium-sized rock that they spotted it. Voice Interface. Douglas's finger quickly arrived as back-up.
      "Hello? Computer?"
      "Hello, visitor," replied the monotone collage of a synthesized computer voice. Douglas jumped.
      "Groovy! Umm... How are you?"
      "Ship's function at an estimated negative nine percent. Engines inoperable. Navigation inoperable. Sensors inoperable. Fires detected in -"
      "No, no. It was just a polite question."
      There was a pause.
      "I'm fine, thanks," replied the computer, and began to make an unexpected noise.
      "Computer," said Douglas, "Why are you laughing like a girl?" The laughing got louder, and lovelier. Douglas turned around.
      The Command Center, the chaos, the Hyperborean all vanished. He was only aboard the vessel of his mind now. Isis was his expedition.
      "You're Douglas Dent," she said, proud of her own discovery, but also a little scared by it.
      "How..." he felt so nervous he decided to quit while ahead, "How?"
      "I've heard of you," she replied simply, "I bet you've been on so many adventures." And Douglas experienced a strange inclination. He suddenly wanted to say many things which, as far as he could tell, held no resemblance to reality. It was only his resulting sense of surprised silliness that saved him.
      "This is my first actually," he said, and watched as the interest faded from her gray face.
      "Well, anyway, I'm sure you'll try your hardest."
      "What?"
      "You know, when you destroy the Universe."
      Small explosions detonated throughout Douglas's head. He tried to regain control, but it was too late.
      "Oh, come on!" he was yelling, "I'm not going to destroy the Universe! That's not even possible! Besides, how could you know?!"
      Isis stood silent for a moment, then turned and ran out of the room.
      "Shoot," sighed Douglas, frustrated.
      "As you command," responded the computer, "One target within firing range. A small spheroid docked to the ship. Confirm aggression."
      "Yeah, right," said Douglas angrily, "I really want you to destroy our only way of getting off this exploding spaceship. Stupid computer."
      The Hyperborean was rocked by a new, different kind of explosion. Instead of an ominous, tremulous, cacophonous eruption, this was really more of a pop. Goosebumps descended.
      "Douglas," called a strangely calm mouse voice, "1 and I would like to have a word with you."
17

15

2005-05-27T07:28:00.000-07:00

      Douglas vaguely remembered being taught that the human heart was the strongest organ. He was also pretty sure that it wasn't meant for this. Outside of the Hyperborean airlock, a furious chaos extended away from him in three directions. The ceiling sparked, the walls burned, and the floor was littered with parts from each. 1 was pulling something out of a pile.
      "New threads," he called, and held up a gray Galactic Ward jumpsuit. It was slightly singed, but certainly better than the remainder of his old one. He ran around the corner to change.
      "Do you hear that?" asked Josef.
      Douglas was, in fact, trying to ignore a multitude of dangerous-sounding clanks, bzzts, and rumbles. He stared at Josef with a blank face, but Josef had decided against bothering to look.
      "It's a robot beacon." The mouse darted around a puddle of wires and down the hallway.
      "A robot?" asked 1, poking his head around the corner, "Go with him. I'll be right there."
      Josef had stopped in front of a small, red door buried behind wreckage.
      "Where does it lead?" Douglas asked.
      "Curious," answered 1, arriving behind him, "It oughtta be just a closet."
      "In any case," said Josef, "there's a robot back there."
      1 reached down and began tossing aside chunks of twisted spaceship.
      "Wait," Douglas worried, "how do we know it's friendly?"
      "We don't," replied 1, as he pried the final hunk of metal from its indentation in the door. Douglas and Josef took many steps backward. 1 pressed a panel by the door and the closet swooshed open. He stood staring into the darkness.
      "Surprise," he said, and immediately fell backward, attacked by something short and gray. The robot and 1 were locked in a violent struggle rolling around on the floor. 1 was crying out, but Douglas didn't know what to do. Then the situation adjusted itself unexpectedly. 1 wasn't yelling, he was laughing. The robot was tickling him.
      An explosion shook the hallway and vibrated through the piles of metal.
      "If you two are finished..." said Josef, irritated. The robot paused and looked to see Douglas and Josef.
      "Oh, hello," it said. She said. Douglas was shocked. The robot was a girl. The girl was a robot. With long, golden hair. She turned back to 1.
      "You saved me, papa bear!" 1 smiled and blushed, then stood up.
      "I... uhh..."
      "We know," Josef interrupted, "Embarrassed."
      "Isis used to work with us at Headquarters," explained 1, "Isis, this is Josef and Douglas."
      Isis walked over to them. She had a robot body, but her gray face very closely resembled a human girl's. And when she shook hands with Douglas, her palm felt soft and warm. She bent down to pick up Josef.
      "What do you think you're -" protested Josef.
      "It's been a long time since I've seen a mouse," said Isis smiling, "You're so furry." She stroked his back.
      "Stop that," he demanded sleepily and yawned, "Could you at least tell me what happened here?"
      "I'm sorry, no," frowned Isis, as she put him back down, "I went into the closet... I was... uh... looking for something. Then there was an explosion and I couldn't get out. I heard people screaming and more explosions. I thought we were being attacked." She looked at 1 sadly and hugged him.
      "Looks like everyone got away okay," comforted 1.
      "Sadly," sighed Josef, "because there is no one left to tell us who did this."
      "Isis, what was the Hyperborean doing out here?" Everyone looked at Douglas, who hadn't spoken a word since they found her.
      "Douglas..." frowned Josef disapprovingly, then he paused, "Oh. That's a good question."
      "We were going to Violet on a routine delivery mission..."
      "Pre-chewed bubble gum, again?" asked 1. Isis nodded.
      "What do they do with -"
      "Please, Douglas," interrupted Josef, "don't ask."
      "On the way there," Isis continued, "Navigation saw a huge object at the edge of sensor range. I think we were going to look at it."
      "Any idea what it was?" Douglas asked, before anyone else could.
      "No, that's what we wanted to see," answered Isis, "Opis, the science officer, said it had to be a planet, because it was perfectly round and seemed to be inhabited. But then Arge, in Navigation, called Opis a Throovian pathospray, and said it had to be an asteroid, because it wasn't near a star or any other orbitable mass. So Opis said, 'Are you sure your momma's not in town?' And then Arge threw her -"
      "Thank you, Isis," said Josef, "It is clear that this mysterious object is our rogue Earth."
      "Earth?!" exclaimed Isis, and she looked at Douglas with surprise. Another explosion rumbled through the hallway, this one much closer.
      "Afraid," cried 1, then shook himself, "Josef, we've gotta get to the Engine Room and get these explosions under control. Meantime, Isis..."
      "Earth," muttered Isis, who was still staring at Douglas with wide eyes.
      "Please, go check the Captain's log." Isis walked away quickly, but thoughtfully. 1 turned to Douglas.
      "Douglas, you have the most important job of all... in the Command Center."
      Douglas smiled.
16

14

2005-05-26T05:59:00.000-07:00

      Douglas stared hard. Nothing seemed to happen. He had watched a lot of things come and go, but this thing was different. Out there, weightless, distinct. There were no precedents, no reference points. An approach without the courtesy of footsteps. He had to look away and look again to know anything had changed. Doing this a few times made him feel dizzy and inexplicably old.
      "They declare themselves the Hyperborean."
      1 squinted.
      "Confused. I've been aboard the Hyperborean. It doesn't look like that. Maybe you were right, Josef."
      "I'm afraid not. There doesn't appear to be anyone alive on that ship. So unless they are ghost pirates... And yes, Douglas. The entire galaxy is haunted by ghost space pirates. They are terrible and evil and have top secret tea parties where they howl and shriek and plan the abduction of left socks."
      "Hey 1," whispered Douglas loudly, "I think Josef is a ghost space pirate."
      Just then the Hyperborean caught everyone's attention with a spectacular explosion. Debris dispersed in every direction. They were close enough now to see why 1 hadn't recognized the ship. Whatever the original shape of the Hyperborean, this was clearly not it.
      What floated before them was a story. An epic tale of exotic worlds and glorious space battles. A beautiful narrative full of dramatic climaxes and heart-wrenching twists, neatly crumpled into a little ball.
      "Josef said there's no one alive."
      "It's all right, Douglas. The escape pods have been launched."
      "That is good to hear, I'm sure," said Josef, "I have reversed the drift so as to take us in the direction of the attack."
      "We've gotta board it first."
      "Board that?! Ridiculous! It is a few explosions shy of a toaster!"
      "It could help find 3."
      "Not so. If 3 is responsible for this, he must be nearby. This is a waste of time, either way."
      "Josef, this is a Wardship. We gotta find out what happened."
      "Perhaps I should remind you, 1: you are no longer a Ward."
      "You know, Douglas," frowned 1, "I think Josef might be a ghost space pirate after all."
      "Now wait just a -"
      "Oh no!" replied Douglas, "How can we tell?"
      "I am not a -"
      "We'll have to eject him into space. If he survives, he's definitely a ghost space pirate -"
      "Fine." Josef sighed. "We will investigate your precious ship. Your specious reasoning is torture enough."
      "It isn't specious," replied 1, "'cause I don't even know what that means."
15

13

2005-05-25T06:46:00.000-07:00

      Quiet is exactly what no one was around to be missing in the universe of the missing Earth. They would have been, had they been, if they had been fluent in any of a billion galactic languages, which they weren't, because they weren't, so they weren't. But a billion is a good rough estimate which almost entirely fails to account for the incredible number of galactic languages into which "The Sound and the Light" has been rhymed.

         Here and there, the Sound and the Light.
         One day the Sound declared a fight.
         "I do not like the way you are.
         I'll prove that I'm better, by far.
         I bounce through air, water, and things.
         I am the note each atom sings.
         But you are neither particle nor wave.
         It makes no sense how you behave."
         "I'm me. For me that's sense enough,"
         Replied the Light, who knew his stuff,
         "But if you like we'll have a race.
         We'll race to get to Outer Space."
         The Sound smiled, "No, I've seen you fly.
         This race will be to see how high."
         (For Sound knew Space was dark as Night.)
         "As you wish," replied the Light.
         So off they went, and very soon,
         They parted clouds and saw a moon.
         But the Sound would lose - it shone clear.
         He could not leave the atmosphere.
         "Wait up," said Sound, "That's not fair!
         There are no things, water, or air."
         "You see," Light called, "I'm self-reliant,
         But you need others who'll be pliant.
         The greater truth your loudness bars -
         We can see, but not hear, stars."

      And so, anyone floating at this particular point in space would have probably objected to

         1) a strangely audible woo sound
         2) the lack of breathable elements

Though perhaps not in that order. This being would probably also want to move.
      The offending woo was not actually breaking any rules, it simply did not yet belong to this Universe. It instead belonged to the inhabitants of a bubble, which suddenly appeared there.
      "Quiet!" snapped Josef.
      "Sorry," said Douglas and 1. But it was no good.
      "That was groovy!" exclaimed Douglas.
      "That," replied Josef sourly, "was a boring, unremarkable Universe hop."
      "Boring?!" cried 1 incredulously.
      "And this," Josef continued, "is a particularly boring and unremarkable Univerrr..." He trailed off, distracted by invisible controls.
      "Josef?" asked Douglas.
      "My apologies," replied Josef, "Had an incoming transmission."
      "What was it?"
      "Oh, nothing. A distress signal or some such. Shall we be getting back?"
      Douglas looked at 1.
      "What frequency are they using?" 1 asked.
      "Government channel," Josef answered apathetically, "Let the government deal with the government, I say."
      "A government ship all the way out here?" 1 was worried, "Gotta be a Wardship."
      "Or," sneered Josef, "pirates pretending to be a Wardship."
      "Space pirates?!" hoped Douglas. Josef turned to him.
      "Douglas," the mouse condescended, "we are in space. You need not put 'space' before everything. Do you think they call it 'chinese food' in China?"
      "Of course not," replied Douglas, in his most innocent voice, "They speak Chinese there."
      "Great," whined Josef, "Now I'm hungry."
      "Either way," 1 chuckled, "Let's try not to be too valuable... or too tasty."
14

12

2005-05-24T19:36:00.000-07:00

      "Time is big," 1 said finally.
      He laughed a little.
      "You know, people go on and on about the ends of Space and Time, but I have the hardest time just knowing where to begin."
      Josef coughed politely.
      "The Question."
      1 looked at him with surprise, and sighed.
      "The Question," he nodded. "When we learned of the mice plan, to construct Earth and discover the Question, the Galactic Wards held a special meeting. The day was rainy. We argued fiercely. Very difficult. Very sad. Was the last time I would be there. 3 and I left the Wards forever.
      "We came up with two plans to save the Universe. I was supposed to destroy the Earth as quickly as I could. Luckily, the Vogons took too long, didn't understand anything, and required anything they didn't understand in triplicate. What with the mice, the dolphins, and 3 working against them, they didn't stand a chance."
      "I thought 3 was on your side."
      "3 was supposed to... well... replicate the Universe. Sort of make a back-up copy, in case the mice succeeded in destroying the whole of existence."
      "That was not our intention!" objected Josef.
      "Only because it wouldn't make you any money!"
      "Some of us don't pay for things with rocks!"
      "Stupidhead!"
      "Stink... face!"
      "Hey!" scolded Douglas.
      "Sorry," said Josef and 1.
      "How was 3 going to copy the Universe?"
      "He was developing a computer program to -"
      "That's absurd!" interrupted Josef, "It would be quite impossible to duplicate that much matter and energy!"
      "Oh, the program works," replied 1, and he watched Josef closely. "It just steals stars and planets from existing galaxies."
      "Are you trying to suggest that a computer program has been dissecting the Universe into the Whole Sort of General Mish Mash as we know it?"
      "It was a destructive solution, but it seemed necessary."
      "Simply preposterous! There is no computer powerful enough to... to... oh my..."
      1 nodded.
      "3 installed the program on Earth. Earth is a kind of focal point that exists in every copy of the universe."
      "Because mice built one in every universe!"
      "And do you also have an explanation for how mice became pandimensional in the first place?"
      Josef's mouth dropped.
      "We are better because we deserve it!"
      1 took a deep breath.
      "The first time the program was run it created one new universe, but 3 didn't stop. By the second run, you mice had moved to Earth, and you became inextricably bound to it. The program created many more universes and spread your presence to every Earth."
      "Ah well, it seems you are mistaken. One Earth was successfully destroyed by the Vogons before we even arrived."
      1 sank.
      "Guilt. So much guilt." The herculean man sat against the central rock and began to sob. Douglas walked over to him.
      "You wanted to save the Universe."
      "Many people want something," replied 1, "Few think about who they have to become in order to get it."
      "Fancy talk from a caveman," jeered Josef.
      "That's quite enough!" Douglas defended.
      "He started it."
      "And if you follow a lemming, you've no right to complain."
      "By Zaphod, what is it - Cheap Proverb Day at the Mega-Market?"
      Douglas turned back to 1.
      "Because if it is," muttered Josef, "please, just drop me at the nearest black hole."
      1 slowly brought his crying to a halt, much as one might a massive locomotive.
      "Josef is right," he sniffled.
      "What?!" gaped Douglas and Josef.
      "We don't have time for this. Last I heard from 3, he was preparing for a final, infinite replication of the Universe." 1 rested his elbow on his hand and tapped the side of his forehead. "Think, think, think..."
      Douglas turned round quickly and pointed at Josef.
      "No!" he said. Josef closed his mouth. Douglas stared at him.
      "It's... endearing," the mouse tried, struggling to subdue himself, "really."
      "Josef," asked 1, "Do you know if any of the Earths are odd in any way?"
      Josef fell over backward, rolling with laughter.
      "What... No... That's..." he tried to respond, "That's rather like asking if any cheeses smell funny."
      Douglas and 1 stared at him.
      "Relativists," he scorned, "Aside from the usual hypocrisies and bureaucracies, they're all perfectly 'normal'. Except for the one the Vogons blew up, of course."
      1 sighed a deep, despondent sigh.
      "But..." began Douglas, in the desperate hope he'd find a reason for saying it. Surprisingly, he did. "That was before mice moved in, right?"
      "Indeed," replied Josef, "Yet another senseless tragedy that was entirely not our fault."
      "But," questioned Douglas, who had decided to begin all his sentences with the word but, "if you weren't there yet, how do you know the Vogons destroyed it?"
      "Well, you see, it wasn't there anymore, was it?"
      "But -"
      "Thank you, Douglas," interrupted 1, "Let's get going!" He smiled and charged off through the tunnel. "Adventure!"
      "There's nothing there," insisted Josef, "This 'adventure' is completely pointless."
      "But..." grinned Douglas, "still an adventure."
      "Oh, do be quiet."
13

11

2005-05-23T07:13:00.000-07:00

      Douglas didn't mind a night sky, but inside dark was something completely different. It was a different kind of not knowing and it made him anxious. Darkness had been watching his hesitant footsteps for what seemed like forever, but when he checked behind him, sunlight was still peering expectantly over his shoulder. It turned him back toward the colorless stone void.
      He often found that the things he saw with his eyes were a poor roommate for the things he thought in his head. When either went away, the other liked to throw big, noisy parties. In his bedroom at night, his thoughts chattered and danced. Babysitters were always telling him to just go to sleep already, but that struck him as a crazy idea. Who can sleep in the middle of a party?
      The party was roaring in this jungle cave. His fear quickly filled the dark empty space in front of him. That whiffling could be the motion of some terrible creature, those burbles the only warning of its malicious approach. But maybe not. Probably not. After all, what were the chances of anything he could think of? He just needed to admit the freedom of possibility.
      "There could be anything at the end of this cave."
      "And whatever it is," quaked Josef, entirely failing to help, "we just freed its lunch."
      As it happened, the whiffling was wind. The burbles, such as they were, echoed up from a small spring. It was the faint blue glow around the corner that deserved some explaining. Closer inspection merely blinded Douglas and Josef until they cleared the swath of projected light.
      Nothing could have prepared Douglas for what he found in the large room at the end of the cave. The tunnel opened onto a silent, ghostly chaos. Alien text and images moved eerily across the cave walls. Pale, patchwork monsters surrounded him, imploring him to listen, to care, to buy.
      "Television..." Douglas spun, "so much television..."
      "The holosphere on that rock is projecting them," replied Josef, "He is monitoring the sub-etha news networks - probably for news of Earth."
      "Who is?"
      The dim light of the broadcasts made it difficult for Douglas's eyes to adjust. After much squinting, he was finally able to discern a crouched silhouette on the other side of the room, watching the projected images. Someone deceptively large. Size and distance stumbled around dizzily in the synthetic moonlight. Douglas snuck a quick glance at Josef to make sure his own size wasn't changing. Then something else occurred to him about this being in a cave on the other side of the galaxy.
      "He looks... human," he whispered.
      "Oh," replied Josef, "did I forget to mention that?"
      Douglas glared at him.
      "Your species is not native to Earth," stated the mouse, with a bit less consideration for Douglas's sanity than the situation allowed.
      "What?!" cried Douglas loudly, with a bit less consideration for the situation than his sanity allowed.
      The silhouette dove for a corner of the cave.
      "Afraid," it growled.
      "We should stand our ground," whispered Douglas through his teeth.
      The massive man stared at them. He reminded Douglas of a caveman from a Science textbook. His hair and beard were long and bedraggled. His clothes hung in dingy tatters. Douglas briefly wondered if there was a monkey somewhere behind him.
      "Are we standing our ground?" asked Douglas.
      "Are you paralyzed with fear?" replied Josef.
      "Yes."
      "Then yes."
      "Good for us," said Douglas.
      "Afraid," growled the man from his corner, "Confused."
      "Me too," sighed Douglas.
      "Golgafrincham," muttered Josef quickly, "You humans crash-landed on Earth from a planet called Golgafrincham. You were very similar to the species designed to grow on Earth, so you simply replaced them. That is how the whole experiment got bungled, you see."
      "You said it was sabotaged."
      "Yes, well, bungle is a rather harsh word."
      "Sabotage is much harsher," argued Douglas.
      "Wait 'til you're a taxpayer."
      "What?!"
      Their company didn't seem to get it either and suddenly took a few looming steps toward them. Douglas and Josef hastily retreated to the tunnel.
      "The point is, you live there now. Are you going to save your little blue-green planet or not?"
      Douglas crossed his arms and pouted.
      "Fine," he grumbled, and began a cautious approach back toward the man. Josef was startled.
      "Where are you going?"
      "He doesn't know what he's doing."
      "I am certain he knows that he is trying to destroy Earth."
      "The truth is like a jigsaw."
      "Truth?!" gawked Josef, "TRUTH?"
      But it was too late. Douglas stood inches from the titan. Staring up at the thick beard and stern face, he felt himself sway on a breath.
      "Hello. I'm Douglas Dent and I've come to tell you to stop. The Earth experiment is over. It failed."
      The man gazed down with a terrible stillness.
      "Oh! Oh, well, that's all right, then." The moment stretched and yawned. "Relieved," the man said.
      "That's it?!" Josef approached. "I could have done that!"
      "This is Josef," apologized Douglas, "He's a mouse."
      "I am Galactic Ward 1."
      "That's it?!" repeated Josef, "After the dream-visits, the mouse council, the superturkeys! I was going to turn this into a book deal, but who would be dumb enough to read a book like this? No one, that's who. Isn't there anything else?"
      "Oh no," said 1 suddenly, "Oh no, oh no." He retreated to the wall of the cave, with eyes full of fear.
      "Dear Zaphod, we've lost him again," squeaked Josef, "I told you this would never work."
      "Have you learned nothing?!" asked Douglas, disbelieving the mouse. He turned to 1, "What is it?"
      There was a long silence as 1 brought his mind back into the cave. It began as a low whisper. At first, Douglas mistook the brooding hulk to be breathing funny. But soon, the breathing was very clearly a word - a word repeated over and over.
      "He's saying, 'Three'!" exclaimed Josef.
      "Three?" Douglas asked calmly, "There's three of us."
      "No, no," breathed 1, "Oh no, oh no. 3 doesn't know."
      "3 doesn't know?" puzzled Douglas, "Is 3 a person? That other Galactic Ward, Josef?"
      "Yes," replied Josef dismissively, "but he disappeared. 1, I assure you there's nothing to worry about; 3 hasn't done anything."
      "3 doesn't know," repeated 1 gravely, "and you don't know."
      Douglas sensed Josef's fur stand up. He himself felt strangely like a crow on a wire, in that moment right before the murder flies off all at once.
12

10

2005-05-22T07:07:00.000-07:00

      It began long before they reached the mountain. The herd of bright yellow birds - flapping, tumbling, doing something. What were they up to? It looked like a race, but some of them were clearly faster than others and didn't rush ahead. Douglas watched as one of them broke free, then just as quickly slowed back down into line. The line! They were forming an even line in front, which grew straighter the further they went. Then, all of a sudden, the line stopped.
      "That's the mountain?!"
      He was looking at a hill of large purplish rocks, barely capable of containing its one cave.
      "Douglas, it's important to keep things in perspective."
      "Yeah, but so should they!"
      Josef was content to ignore this comment and climb toward the cave, but Douglas had become mesmerized by the superturkeys. Some of them had begun to scooch forward and then back again. As though it were a tiny sea of superturkeys and the tide were coming in. The front line surged closer and closer to the cave, which was strewn about with feathers and bones and a very small pile of rope.
      The ebb and flow continued until the band of superturkeys retreated with impossible elasticity and were flung forward at an incredible speed. Almost all of them skidded to a tumultuous halt, but one rather cunningly failed to stop, ran conspicuously up the hillside and onto the rope. It fell over and began thrashing about. Douglas watched all of this with a smirk, and then approached the cave entrance.
      "Oh look, it's the vegetarian!" exclaimed the all-too-familiar superturkey lying in front of him, "Happy now? I'm about to be eaten."
      "Vegetarians don't eat meat," corrected Douglas, patiently, "usually because they think it's wrong for animals to be eaten." He reached for the rope.
      "What are you doing?!" demanded the superturkey, "Decide you wanted to eat me yourself?"
      "I'm setting you free."
      "I'll never be free from these knots of injustice!"
      "Ow. Not if you keep pecking at my hands." Douglas put his towel over the superturkey's head.
      "You can't silence me!" came a muffled yell.
      "You're not even tied, just a little tangled, see?" he said, removing the towel, "There you go."
      The superturkey looked about for a moment.
      "Owww! My wing!" it cried, "You broke my wing!"
      "That's so cool!" whispered a young superturkey in the audience.
      "You don't even use your wings!" Douglas lifted the bird and started it off toward the ground.
      The audience gasped. The superturkey tried to laugh as it landed, but the others pecked at it and chased it into the woods.
      "You know, that turkey will probably never be cool again," observed Josef.
      "If only it had used its powers for Good," replied Douglas, still smirking.
11

9

2005-05-21T07:12:00.000-07:00

      "I still don't get it," said Douglas, who was absently watching a superturkey try to fix its small stick hut using only its head.
      "The plan," repeated Josef, "was to create a group of turkeys who thought it was cool to be eaten. Unfortunately, every time the idea was introduced to them, it was quickly replaced by sleep-deprived lava dancing or tattoos. So scientists spent many thousands of years trying to figure out how things stayed cool."
      "Why did it take so long?" asked Douglas.
      "I thought I mentioned," replied Josef, "they were scientists."
      "Ohhhh..." nodded Douglas.
      "They finally realized," the lab mouse continued, "that things only stay cool if it's wrong to say they are cool."
      "That's dumb," said Douglas, as a couple of young superturkeys wobbled by.
      "I'm going to be eaten first!" declared one of them.
      "Are not!" argued the other.
      "Hush," a mother chided, "don't say such awful things."
      Suddenly, a metal clank coasted softly through the jungle air, followed closely by a loud gaggle of boggles. What was likely the entire village of superturkeys crowded past, picking up stragglers, shouting and boggling.
      "To the mountain!"
      "Come on," said Josef, and darted off after them, "this is what we've been waiting for."
      "We've been waiting for something?!" called Douglas, rising to follow.
      "They have to feed someone."
10

8

2005-05-20T07:36:00.000-07:00

      Douglas was a human with not so much on his mind. He had thunk every thought he could think to have thunk. And anyway, the big important questions that kept him awake at night had finally found their big important answers. Or so he thought. Trampsing through an exciting jungle on an alien planet was a time for a little straight-forward fun. And so Douglas sang a little, straight-forward song.
      "Burpel burpel burpel burpel burpel burpel burpel..."
      "What is your fascination with that word?" interrupted Josef.
      "It's fun!" replied Douglas, "Try it."
      "No, thank you."
      "Come on, Josef. What are you, mouse or man?"
      Josef stopped.
      "You take that back!"
      "Burpel." said Douglas. Josef sighed.
      "Burpel." said Josef, "See? Burpel burpel burpel. It's just a word. Burpel burpel."
      "I bet I can say it louder!"
      "You cannot!"
      "Burpel!" yelled Douglas.
      "Burpel!" yelled Josef.
      "Boggle!" yelled something else entirely.
      Douglas and Josef stared off into the dark, tangled distance.
      "I didn't know echoes could change the words," said Douglas, and tested again, "Burpel! Burpel!"
      "They can't," confirmed Josef.
      "Boggle! Boggle!" denied the echo. It seemed louder.
      "They also can't," Josef added, "get closer."
      Douglas crouched down.
      "What is it?" he whispered.
      "Boggle!" it called, on its own this time.
      "I have the rather funny notion," whispered Josef, "that I've heard this before and that we're not going to like it."
      "Boggle! Boggle!" The leaves rustled all around them.
      "Where do I know that sound?"
      "Boggle! Boggle!" And out they came.
      "Oh no!" exclaimed Josef, "Superturkeys!"
      There were a great deal of them. Bright yellow cubes with long heads out in front, which bobbed up and down behind maroon squawking beaks. Small white wings hung limp at their sides, but how they moved was hidden beneath them.
      "Superturkeys?"
      "Variations of turkey are a common food source across the galaxy, though mice prefer the less talkative kind."
      "They don't look like turkeys," observed Douglas, but even as he said it, he had begun to doubt himself. Although they weren't shaped like turkeys, there was something vacant in their eyes. Something about their aimless wobble.
      They were all around now, growing ever more comfortable with their visitors. The distance at which they wobbled got smaller and smaller until one of them actually bumped into Douglas and fell over.
      "Oh no!" cried the superturkey, "He's got me!"
      "I do?"
      "He's got me! I'm done for!" It thrashed about at his feet - well, as best as a box-shaped bird can thrash. "If only I hadn't been so delicious!"
      "I'm not going to eat you."
      "What?!"
      All the superturkeys stared at Douglas.
      "I'm not going to eat you."
      "Must be a vegetarian," it said, and the rest of the turkeys laughed at Douglas in a way he didn't like.
      "I'm not a vegetarian, I'm just not used to eating food that - I mean, who - well..."
      "Who... what?"
      "Who want to be eaten."
      The superturkeys gasped.
      "Hear that? Now we want to be eaten. You think we want to be stuffed with bread and vegetables? You think we long to be slow-roasted and marinated over a crackling flame? You think we fantasize about being served steaming on a lavish platter, heavy with the scent of exotic spices?"
      "You certainly act like it."
      "Maybe I act like this because you messed with my head, you vegetarian."
      "Ha!" cried Douglas in disbelief, "Why would I mess with your head if I were a vegetarian?"
      The flightless bird looked him square in the face.
      "You tell me."
      Douglas objected with a series of mumblings and frustrated hand gestures, which looked to Josef like the rain dance of the Babeloney fisherpeople. Finally, he threw his hands in the air and stormed off. The superturkey turned its attention to the lab mouse.
      "How about you? Are you feeling hungry? Up to some vicious nibbling?"
      "I'm afraid not."
      "You're a vegetarian too?!"
      "No," replied Josef, "just a gourmet."
9

7

2005-05-19T07:28:00.000-07:00

      Douglas was a human with a lot on his mind. It comes, therefore, as no surprise that he was in a bit of a haze as he reemerged in the travelling bubble. It is also clear how the descent into his first alien atmosphere might have been missed. He can even be forgiven for ignoring the foamy velvet crests of the electric gray ocean as they soared above it. Beyond that, however, one might properly call him silly.
      And so he was. For he was snacking on his own thoughts past serpentine shores of midnight blue. The glistening dawn, over tiered violet cliffs, found him face-down in a breakfast platter of confusion. And when the bubble finally alighted in a pointy, pale pink field, Douglas was, indeed, completely out-to-lunch.
      Nonetheless, he stepped out onto what were, lucky for Douglas, not what they appeared to be: shards of broken glass. He stretched pensively. Though jagged in appearance, the shards were a fairly soft form of plant life he had entirely failed to notice. Also unnoticed went a flock of silky white triangles who suddenly billowed and spiraled off around him when he screamed.
      The speeding comet of his thoughts had finally run out of gravity and had stopped to look around. He felt tiny bits of ice collide with his spine.
      "We're here!" Douglas jumped around.
      "Careful," cautioned Josef.
      "We're really here!"
      "Ah, there it goes;" frowned Josef, "you've killed my Babel fish. Poor thing starved to death."
      "Really?" asked Douglas, a bit shaken.
      "A mouse can dream..."
      "So what's this planet called?"
      "Are you joking?" Josef sighed. "No, of course you're not. This planet is as far from the center of the galaxy as your own. The only reason Earth got a name at all is because you obsessive monkeys live on it."
      "So this planet is nameless?"
      What few older white triangles had carelessly resettled in the same field were sent sailing again with another happy shout. Douglas thought for a moment and then held out his arms.
      "I dub thee... Fallen Stone!"
      "It's a planet, not a knight."
      "What's the difference?"
      "Apparently planets get dumb names. Now come on." Josef headed toward a jungle of winding black trees with rectangular, brick-colored leaves. "There are transmissions originating about a mile in this direction."
      "Josef, if you always leave a planet before you burpel," Douglas snickered, "Burpel. Burpel. Burpel... What was I saying?"
      "In case we need to leave in a hurry," answered Josef, and disappeared into the grayscale undergrowth.
8

6

2005-05-18T06:37:00.000-07:00

      "Where are we?"
      Everything felt a bit slanted, but he was still a little dizzy. He had tumbled nearly halfway down a bare, brightly-lit hallway. There was no sign of the stars or the bubble. No sign of anything that might make sense of what was happening, or help ease the growing fear that his life was rapidly evaporating around him and would never be familiar again. He stood and immediately hit his head on the ceiling.
      "This is one of many travel nodes connecting the mice fleet cross-dimensionally. Opposite this wall is the provisional chamber of our governing mouse council, who have been awaiting your arrival."
      As they came nearer, Douglas noticed a mouse hole in the wall. He felt even more anxious.
      "Is there anything I should know?"
      Josef looked at Douglas and burst out laughing.
      "...about the mouse council, I mean!"
      "Yes, of course that's what you meant." Josef smiled politely. "Nothing that I can think of, though you should ignore my manner of speech. I was appointed this position due to my fluency in human-speak and mouse governments tend to be a bit out of touch. See you in there."
      "Josef!"
      "Yes?"
      "Umm... How do I get in there?"
      "You can squeeze through the cat door."
      "The cat door?"
      Josef pushed against a part of the wall to show that it was hinged.
      "But I thought mice and cats... Well, you know..."
      "Another ingenius mouse plot, I'm afraid. We find them quite useful as inconspicuous modes of transportation. We only made you believe that they eat us." Josef passed through the mouse hole.
      "So we wouldn't realize you ride them?" asked Douglas, pushing open the cat door with his head.
      "It's far cleverer than that, of course. Consider it. Whenever a mouse finds a new home, all he must do is dart around a little, munch holes in a few boxes, and hi-ho-the-derry-o, he's got a new cat."
      "Wow," said Douglas, having wriggled himself into a short, immense, round, columned room. Then he realized both the mouse plot and the room deserved amazement. "Wow," he said again, for the room this time. Of course, it bothered him immediately that the first time had not been specifically for the mouse plot. "Wow," he said, for absolutely the last time. Did he really just think through all that? "Wow," he said accidentally. And immediately hit his head on the ceiling.
      "I thought human children said waa," came a mouse voice. Douglas turned to find, in the middle of the room, three raised mice on three raised platforms.
      "You're thinking of human babies," replied a second mouse, from the highest, center platform, "Human children say why."
      "Then what do human adults say?"
      "Why me," answered the last mouse gruffly.
      "This one's already reached that stage," said Josef.
      "To be expected, of course," amended the third mouse, "He's different, isn't he?"
      "Hello," Douglas interrupted. The mice were a bit startled.
      "Hello, human Douglas Dent. I am the Vice President of mousekind. To my left is the Minister of Progress, and to my right the Minister of The Question."
      "The question?"
      "That was quick," replied the Minister of the Question.
      "The Question's the reason for the season, man," explained Josef, inexplicably.
      "Still practicing the human-speak, Josef?"
      "I find it quite hard to forget."
      "All will be explained, human," said the Vice President, "in this entertaining educational film." A white rectangle descended from the ceiling behind Douglas.
      "Don't forget the candy!" cried the Minister of Progress.
      "Oh yes, of course," replied the Vice President. A small hole opened in the floor through which a bowl of chocolates rose on a short, white pedestal. "Here is your candy, human."
      This strange behavior filled Douglas with terrible indecision, torn between curiousity and candy.
      "Why?" he asked, hardly believing himself.
      "We understand that your movie industry is based almost entirely on your candy industry."
      "Oh. Umm... right," agreed Douglas, quickly choosing a chocolate.
      "Also," added the Minister of the Question, "Feel free to pay us up to ten times what the candy is worth."
      "Mmm... They're very good," Douglas grinned, "They're a lot like some chocolates my mom got in Belgium."
      The mice suddenly stared at him, frozen.
      "Josef," whispered Douglas, "Is 'Belgium' some kind of bad word here?"
      "Not at all," laughed Josef, quite loudly, "It just happens to be a codeword we use for 'The humans are on to us, everyone look surprised!'"
      "Oh," said Douglas, as the mouse council relaxed their expressions.
      "Yes, we made codewords out of all your small countries," said the Minister of Progress, "You'll never guess what we use Fiji for." There was some giggling amongst the council.
      "Enough," demanded the Minister of the Question.
      "Quite right," agreed the Vice President, "Here's the film."
      The screen faded to an image of an approaching mouse. It seemed familiar to Douglas, which was odd, because he didn't really know any other mice.
      "An extremely long time ago," the mouse began, "our ancestors built the greatest computer the Universe had ever seen."
      Douglas realized at once that it was the Minister of the Question. The voice in the film wasn't as gruff, but it was gruff enough.
      "They called this computer Deep Thought, and asked it to compute the Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything."
      "Oh really?" Douglas whispered, teasing Josef, "Exactly how long does something like that take to figure out?"
      "About seven and a half million years, actually," replied Josef.
      "Oh." boggled Douglas, and promptly shut up.
      "But the Answer was quite unsatisfactory," continued the film, "The Answer, it seems, is 42."
      Douglas wondered for a moment if this was some kind of outer space joke. He very nearly let out a polite laugh.
      "It wasn't a joke to us," saved the young narrator, "And so Deep Thought designed a new, bigger, better computer. This new computer was the size of a planet, and had to be. We knew the Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything, but now we had to figure out the Question."
      The film cut to images of a planet in the making. Curiously, the planet also seemed familiar to Douglas.
      "So Earth is a giant computer?"
      "Shhh..." whispered Josef, "not yet."
      "It is widely believed that if both the Question and the Answer were ever discovered, the Universe would be instantly destroyed and replaced by one even more inexplicable. Therefore, our noble quest for Truth, Purpose, and Exclusive Merchandising Rights was overcome with controversy. The computer was sabotaged in every Universe, and despite the best efforts of mice, the Question was lost forever."
      The word forever echoed dramatically as the screen returned to white. The Vice President looked up from a very tiny magazine.
      "This may surprise you, human, but your planet was our giant computer."
      Douglas gasped an incredible, incredulous, entirely unnecessary gasp.
      "See?!" said the Minister of Progress, "I told you they didn't know. You owe me one ningi."
      "Later," continued the Vice President, "Right now we must explain the mission to our young visitor before his planet is destroyed."
      "Oh, you always say that."
      "Human Douglas Dent, not everyone is aware that our plans were sabotaged and that the experiment is over. I refer specifically to the Galactic Wards, a branch of the galactic government who have disparaged our efforts since the beginning. Two of their six members, called 1 and 3, disappeared immediately before the experiment. We believe that one of these men is still trying to destroy the Earth, and is responsible for many of the attacks from which we are constantly saving your planet."
      "Earth is being attacked?"
      "Someone has hired a planetary demolition crew of lumpy green ogres called Vogons. The loathsome things have developed a multidimensional corporation devoted to destroying Earth in every form."
      "I thought mice were the only pandimensional creatures."
      "We are, of course..." the Vice President hesitated, "They bought the technology from us."
      "What?!"
      "Well, we were completely unaware of their intentions. If we had been, I am certain we would have charged a great deal more."
      "Very charitable of you."
      "In any case, we believe that it is a former Galactic Ward who employs the Vogons, and that Deep Thought has chosen you to stop him."
      "That sounds very hard."
      "Yes. Yes it does." An ordinary pause passed into an uncomfortably long silence. "You had best be getting to it, then."
      "Oh." Douglas looked at Josef, who had started back toward the ship. A little disordered, he turned to follow.
      "Safe journey," called the Minister of the Question.
      "Good luck," called the Minister of Progress, "And we don't care what anyone else says!"
      Douglas took two more crouched steps, then stopped.
      "What anyone else says?" he turned back, "What does that mean?"
      "Nothing of significance," urged Josef, "Off we go."
      "What does it mean?"
      "He hasn't heard the prophecy?" asked the Vice President, "How is that possible?"
      "He's human," Josef sighed, "This is the species who coined the phrase 'Ignorance is bliss.'"
      "What prophecy?!"
      "They certainly ask a lot of questions for an ignorant species."
      "It seems to me," replied the Minister of the Question, "That they often ask questions so they won't have to think anymore."
      "Hello," interrupted Douglas.
      "Hello, human Douglas Dent."
      "What prophecy?!"
      "It is a prophecy handed down from the beginning of Time," began the Minister, even more gruffly than usual, "Across so many generations and so many languages that its origins have long been forgotten..."
      He paused for effect.
      "Its origins have been forgotten, but the prophecy remains clear: a hero named Douglas Dent shall fail to save the Universe."
      "What?!" Douglas suddenly felt very ill. "Does it say when or how?"
      "No, that's all of it, I'm afraid. It's nonsense, of course."
      "Quite right," agreed the Minister of Progress, "Ancient nonsense."
      "You knew this and still sent Josef to get me?"
      Josef cleared his throat.
      "The Universe ain't up for grabs this go-round, dig?"
      "Impressive," applauded the Minister of The Question, "Also, the prophecy foretells a hero. I do not intend offense, child, but you are not yet a hero."
7

5

2005-05-17T05:37:00.000-07:00

      It was a strawberry Saturday morning. The kind of morning when the sun no longer seems happy just making the sky pink, but goes around making everything else pink too. The brick walls of Douglas's school had a rosey hue, the freshly-cut grass seemed strangely salmon, and the small bubble parked in the middle of the kickball field was definitely pushing magenta. Douglas recognized it anyway, and ran ahead of Josef.
      "Why did you park so far away?" he asked from the pitcher's mound.
      "As with our species," Josef began, a bit out of breath, "mice spaceships move through many dimensions. Unfortunately, there is a danger to burpeling."
      "Burpeling?" smiled Douglas.
      "Yes," said Josef, "The burpel is a way to travel between dimensions. It was discovered by Professor Bathos Burpel, Dean of the School of Interburpel Studies, and now President of Burpel and Burpel Industries."
      Douglas fell off the mound laughing.
      "In any case, if you don't burp- travel in wide open spaces, and you make even the slightest miscalculation, you could arrive anywhere. Say, perhaps, in the middle of a mountain or an opera."
      "Eww," said Douglas. They both shivered.
      "Time to go," said Josef impatiently. And he pushed his tiny paws through the surface of the bubble, which rippled as he wriggled his way inside. "Come on."
      "Ummm..." Douglas looked at the small bubble. He performed a quick bit of estimation (as quick as he could, since it was a Saturday), and came to one inescapable, happy conclusion.
      "Do I get my own wheels?"
      "What?" asked Josef, quite preoccupied with pushing invisible buttons, "Oh. No, I'm afraid not."
      "But I can't fit in there!"
      "Try," the mouse replied.
      So Douglas reached a hand inside and the bubble began to grow. He invested his other hand. It felt a bit like breaking the surface tension on a pool of water and he had to fight an instinct to hold his breath when he finally pushed his face through.
      "And these 'wheels' aren't so bad," added Josef, as Douglas pulled his body in, "It can go from here to there in a blink."
      "Wait," said Douglas confused, "from where to where?"
      "You name it," answered Josef.
      "Oooh."
      Douglas looked around at the dirt inside the spaceship and tried to position himself as conveniently as possible.
      "No, no, don't sit down yet," ordered Josef, "I need you to jump."
      "What?" asked Douglas.
      "A hop. A bound. A leap. The ship will do the rest."
      Douglas jumped.
      He'd been dreaming of space his whole life, but here, in this most dreamlike instant, it felt as though he were finally waking up. All at once, he understood that everything had changed.
      The jump itself wasn't very high, but as he pushed on the top of the bubble, the bottom followed. It caught him in mid-air and just kept going. The laws of physics didn't trouble him nearly so much as the sudden queasiness in his stomach. He half-wondered if he'd jumped at all. Or maybe he would just be falling forever.
      He sat back down by feeling for the bubble with his hands. Something in the way the clouds were rushing past kept him from wanting to look in that particular direction. Instead, he watched stars appear from behind the blank upper atmosphere, and realized that maybe night didn't disappear every morning - it just hid up here.
      "Found you," he whispered, "You're it."
      "What?" asked Josef.
      "This is a long blink." Douglas laughed, a little nervously.
      "Whenever possible, I like to distance the ship from inhabited planets before a burpel," answered Josef defensively, "As a primitive species, I would think you could be a little more appreciative of the courtesy."
      "Oh, umm..." Douglas stumbled, "That's... er... very kind of you." Then he wondered if a few thankful monkey grunts would have been more appropriate. One escaped his thoughts.
      "Besides, we have somewhere to be," added the mouse, "and I think we're late."
      A slit of white light appeared behind them, and quickly opened into a doorway. Douglas barely had a chance to see it, before he fell through...
6

4

2005-05-16T05:34:00.000-07:00

      Chills squirmed through Douglas's starry blue pajamas before he knew why. Strange echoes were leaking from the bathroom vent. He finally noticed them while drying his face. Tides of choppy squeaking - faint, but familiar. They were so distracting that he headed downstairs still holding onto the small towel.
      It was just as he turned the corner, in that moment when it becomes too late to actually do anything, that he finally recognized the sound of his mother crying. And she was sitting at the kitchen table, reading his dream journal.
      "Don't cry. Please..." He crossed the room quickly, set the towel on the table, and knelt by her chair. "It's not real, I know. See, your name isn't Fenchurch." She kept crying. He put his head on her lap. "Please don't be sad again."
      "Oh," she sighed, crying a little deeper. But she lifted her fingers to stroke his hair and took a breath to speak. "Amelia is my middle name."
      Douglas struggled for a moment. But then how - He must have misheard. He looked up at her.
      "What?"
      "Amelia is my middle name." And slowly, with much twisting of her face, she pulled a small yellow fish out of her ear. Douglas shivered.
      "Mom?!" Fenchurch saw his face, and laughed a soft, lovely laugh.
      "Oh, Douglas - it's all right. This is a Babel fish." She held it out to him. The world fell all around Douglas.
      "You knew!" he shouted, trying not to smile.
      "Not really," tried Fenchurch, "I mean, I didn't want to!" Tears filled her eyes again. "Oh Douglas, you're so young!" She hugged him, fish and all.
      "It's true, then?" he asked, mostly for himself, trying to remember everything Josef had told him, "About my father too?"
      Fenchurch hesitated. "It's mostly true," she replied, "but it leaves out the most important part. There's only one thing you really need to know about Arthur Philip Dent."
      He watched her face closely as a wide, warm smile appeared.
      "He was a good person," she said.
      Douglas sat down on the floor and closed his eyes. He knew. He'd always known. It was the way she looked at him. But to hear her say it... A good person is just about the hardest thing to find in the Universe. It takes a lot of thought to be good, Douglas knew. And for the first time in his life, he missed his father.
      From behind this moment, Douglas was only vaguely aware of his mother saying something, rising from her chair, and opening a cabinet. It was when she emptied an entire box of cheese crackers onto the table that he sat up to look. There, amongst the artificially yellow-orange squares, sat an artificially yellow-orange mouse.
      The mouse looked surprised for a moment, then preened himself as best he could.
      "Just can't help myself," confessed Josef, "Marvelous invention, really."
      "You're welcome to them," offered Fenchurch, "This is a very noble thing you mice are doing for us Earthlings."
      Josef choked on a bit of fur and cracker.
      "We live here," he said, coughing, "you know."
      "Still, you mice have lived in many places, and the Earth was a failed experiment," insisted Fenchurch, "It was terribly nice of you to stick around and look out for us."
      "Yes, well..." started Josef, "No, actually. The truth is, we're all just terribly bored and out-of-work." The room felt a moment of embarrassment. Douglas felt a decade of confusion.
      "How was Earth a failed experiment?"
      "The Earth," began Fenchurch, "is not actually a -"
      "There will be time for that later," the mouse interrupted, "We must be off."
      "Hold on," halted Fenchurch, "I am his mother and he is from ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha."
      "Mom!" objected Douglas, before he remembered he had no idea what she was talking about.
      "There is no safer place in the Universe than among mice," tried Josef. Fenchurch frowned.
      "Deep Thought picked Douglas?"
      "Indeed," Josef replied, "Hadn't talked to us in centuries, actually. Some people just can't appreciate a good conversation, I guess. It really is a lost art form, conversation. I can't remember the last time I -"
      "Josef, please..."
      "Anyway, the thing popped on just long enough to give us coordinates and a name. The coordinates are a jungle world on the other side of the galaxy. The name, Douglas Dent."
      Fenchurch walked to the table slowly and picked up the towel. She seemed about to cry. Instead, she turned to Douglas and pushed a small fish in his ear. If ever anyone had been more happy to have a cold-blooded vertebrate shoved through his aural tract, Douglas didn't want to know. Then reality struck.
      "Ewwwwrggh," shivered Douglas.
      "Sorry, honey. It's really the only way," she said, and placed the towel over his shoulder.
      "What's that for?"
      "You never know when you might need one."
      "Very true," interrupted Josef, who had finished cleaning himself, and was sliding down a broomstick toward the kitchen door, "But we really must be going."
      "What? In my pajamas?!" asked Douglas. Josef and Fenchurch laughed.
      "It's tradition," said Fenchurch.
5

3

2005-05-15T05:50:00.000-07:00

      The Universe is a difficult idea to get used to, especially when you suddenly find yourself floating in the middle of it. Douglas gazed at the stars and nebulas and things. Impossible. The harder he tried to understand that space goes on forever, the harder it was to understand. So he let his mind relax and began to look between the stars. His thoughts stretched outward. He sensed matter, space, energy. Soon it felt as though all the stars were singing to him - with him. And maybe he wasn't so different after all.
      Which is probably why, when he heard a voice in his head and turned to find a mouse in a bubble, the first question on Douglas's mind was rather philosophical.
      "Why me?"
      The mouse made a face which seemed to indicate he had come a very long way in a very big hurry, and that's exactly the kind of question he wasn't getting paid to answer.
      "You are Douglas, son of Arthur?" replied the mouse finally.
      "My father's name was Arthur, but I never knew him."
      "Nonetheless, he was Earth's greatest adventurer."
      "My dad?"
      "Indeed. Arthur Dent hitchhiked all over the galaxy."
      "Hitch-hike? How do you do that?"
      "Nevermind. The point is you've got adventures of your own."
      "I don't know..." replied Douglas, but was thinking something different.
      "Remember that I'm communicating directly with your thoughts," interrupted Josef, "Right now, you are trying to convince yourself that this isn't real."
      Douglas laughed for a moment, without knowing why.
      "What are they telling you about your dreams?"
      "They still don't believe me. They think there's something wrong with me."
      "That's just like humans - always jumping to conclusions," said the lab mouse.
      "It's very hard to believe in something with everybody giving you weird looks," said Douglas.
      "Maybe you should find people who won't give you weird looks for what you believe," replied Josef, "Anyway, you shouldn't have to believe me, your mother knows."
      "My mother?" asked Douglas.
      "Indeed. Arthur and Fenchurch exploring the galaxy..." thought Josef dramatically. His mind played a jarble of illustrated memories Douglas couldn't recognize. "In fact, there is one story you might like to -"
      "Fenchurch?"
      "Fenchurch. Your mother. Must you repeat everything in the form of a question?"
      "But my mother's name is Amelia."
      "Matter, anti-matter. What's the difference?" grumbled Josef, "Do you want to hear the story?"
      "All right," answered Douglas, but he was finally convinced. Her name was Amelia and none of this was real. If Josef knew of his certainty, the mouse kept quiet.
      "Your parents journeyed to the tranquil planet Rom, to attend the funeral of President Loid. It was to be their last adventure, because your mother had been feeling quite ill, and they decided to head back to Earth. But there was something neither of them knew..." He paused. "Douglas, you're not paying attention."
      "I was!"
      "You were looking at the stars."
      "How do you know what I'm looking at?"
      "Since I can read your thoughts, I also know what you're looking at, your intended body movements, and facial expressions."
      "Yeah?" replied Douglas, "Can you read this facial expression?"
      "Oh, very nice, Douglas. Very mature, indeed." He let out an airless little mouse sigh. "Maybe I should skip ahead."
      "Please do."
      "Your parents were returning from an adventure on Rom. What neither of them knew was that your mother was pregnant with you. And your father would never find out, because just then a terrible, stupid catastrophe occurred. From his perspective, your mother vanished. From her perspective, she suddenly appeared on a different spaceship, with a different ticket, sitting next to a three-headed, Picoid crystal bird poacher. Needless to say, all five involved were a bit disconcerted."
      "Why did that happen?" Douglas asked. Even if it weren't true, it was becoming a good story.
      "Your mother was pulled into a parallel universe," Josef answered gravely, "And don't look at me like that. It happens."
      Douglas tried not to look at him like that, but didn't feel very successful.
      "And it was this event," Josef continued, "which seems to have given you pandimensional properties - similar to those we mice have always possessed."
      "So it's like a super-power."
      "Well, mice can pass through different dimensions like passing through a hole in the wall."
      "And me?"
      "You can float around an empty sector of space in your sleep."
      "That's not worth very much," he frowned.
      "And yet," replied Josef, "it is worth more than almost any other thing your species has ever done."
      "Be nice!"
      "Be worth it."
      Douglas wanted to argue, but found he didn't know how.
      "I should have left minutes ago," hurried the white mouse, "I have to meet you on Earth. Do you understand these dreams now?"
      "Not really," smiled Douglas, amused at the idea of holding up his own dream character, "I have a few more questions."
      "Very well. Quickly, please."
      "First of all, where is here? It's nowhere near Earth."
      "How do you know that?" asked Josef, very much surprised.
      "I can't see Orion."
      "Orion?" replied Josef, "Oh, yes. The connect-the-dots hunter you humans see in the stars. Not very life-like, don't you think? The dolphins, on the other hand, think it's a butterfly."
      He thought about it. He thought about it some more. He turned his thoughts sideways.
      "Oh!" cried Douglas, quite impressed with his imagination, "That's much smarter."
      "Of course it is - dolphins have the time to really look. Humans are much too busy asking things like Where am I?, Why am I here?, Am I missing recess?"
      "Yes. Where am I, by the way?"
      Josef scrunched up his nose and bristled his whiskers.
      "This is the sector in which your mother disappeared. It's a different universe, so there are different constellations. And you know I've never visited you in school. Not enough time. So your recesses are perfectly..."
      "Question two," interrupted Douglas, "If I'm actually on Earth in another universe, how can you communicate with my thoughts?"
      "With the help of a fish," answered Josef simply.
      Douglas wished he hadn't been clever enough to ask.
      "Wait, let me guess: a superintelligent dolphin? Josef, one of us is definitely crazy."
      "A dolphin is not a fish," corrected Josef.
      "Oh, that's good," sighed Douglas, "At least we know you're the crazy one."
      "A dolphin is a mammal, just like you. And the fish I'm using is called a Babel fish. It is a marvelous creature you stick in your ear and -"
      "What?"
      "Your ear. You stick it in your ear," insisted Josef, "And it translates languages for you. Might as well have a good laugh about it..."
      "Sounds groovy."
      "Oh. Well, um, it would normally only translate the things you meant to say, but this one was engineered to feed on all thoughts. We weren't quite sure it would work, actually."
      "Question three," began Douglas, "Why me?"
      Josef sighed again. And in the pause, Douglas noticed a faint beep-beep-beep that hadn't been beeping before.
      "Who knows?" responded Josef, "Deep Thought chose you."
      "Deep Thought?" Douglas asked, and noticed that the beeps were growing louder.
      "A very old, very wise supercomputer."
      "You do what a computer tells you?"
      "Sometimes. I mean..." Josef hesitated, and the sound got even louder, "only when we feel like it, of course."
      "How fast is it?"
      "What? It's... very fast, I suppose."
      "Well, how does it work?" He had to concentrate very hard now to hear Josef's thoughts over the beeping.
      "Oh, I haven't the foggiest -"
      "Then who built it?"
      "We mice... It was such a long time ago, you see." If Josef thought anything else, it was lost to the noise.
      "Last question!" yelled Douglas excitedly, "What is that horrible beeping sound? An approaching enemy vessel?"
      "Sort of," replied Josef, "That's your alarm clock."
      Douglas woke up.
4

2

2005-05-14T07:39:00.000-07:00

      Sticky chairs. This is what makes a grown-up office different from, say, a playground or a grocery store. The principal, the dentist, the sleep psychologist - if your legs are painfully stuck to the surface of your seat, you're probably in for it.
      There was a long silence. Douglas lifted one leg and it made an awful suction-cup noise. He put his leg down. Dr. Bromyde flipped through his notes, ignoring the sound. Douglas unstuck his other leg.
      "Hello, Douglas," started Dr. Bromyde, clearly annoyed.
      "Hello," said Douglas, and put his leg back down.
      "The last time we met, which I believe was over a month ago..." He looked hard at Douglas's mother, who was looking anywhere but back, "we began to discuss a new character, named Josef. Is he still appearing in your dreams?"
      "Sometimes."
      "And is he still a..." the doctor dove into his notes.
      "A laboratory mouse," helped Douglas, "Yes. More than ever." Dr. Bromyde looked at Douglas. Douglas looked at Dr. Bromyde.
      "Right. A superintelligent lab mouse."
      "Oh no," corrected Douglas, "he's quite an ordinary lab mouse." Dr. Bromyde put down his notes.
      "An ordinary lab mouse who talks and flies a spaceship to visit you in outer space?"
      "All mice can," said Douglas, simply, "We only think we're the smartest animals on Earth. Josef says mice and dolphins are both smarter."
      "And if Josef is right, why don't all mice talk to us - you know, ask for a nice piece of cheese, try to take over the world, that kind of thing?"
      "They're doing experiments on us."
      "Ahh," said Dr. Bromyde, "So when we run them through mazes and chase them with brooms, that's what they want, because they're smarter than us."
      "And dolphins," added Douglas.
      "And dolphins," sighed Dr. Bromyde, "Tell me, are the dolphins also doing experiments on us?"
      "Nah. They just, you know, muck about having a good time."
      "Of course. Douglas, dreams are extremely important. They can show you what your brain is thinking about, even when you don't realize it. I want you to start recording your dreams in a dream journal. All you have to do is keep an empty school notebook by your bed. As soon as you wake up, write down as much as you can remember of your dreams. Do you think you could do that?"
      Douglas pretended not to be excited.
      "Good," continued Dr. Bromyde, "Is there anything new you'd like to talk about? Other characters maybe? When was the last time you spoke with Josef?"
      Douglas shrugged.
      "About a week ago," his mom said quickly.
      "Uh-huh, uh-huh," nodded Dr. Bromyde, taking notes, "and what did he say?"
      "He told me he's going to come and get me," answered Douglas, "because I've got to save Earth."
      Dr. Bromyde looked at Douglas's mom, then back at Douglas.
      "And what are you saving Earth from?"
      "I don't know yet," said Douglas confidently.
      "Oh, look at that - our time's almost up," said Dr. Bromyde, "Why don't you go sit in the waiting room, while your mother and - "
      "I know, I know," Douglas interrupted, "I'm going."
      Dr. Bromyde followed Douglas to the door, and then pushed it closed.
      "The door doesn't close all the way if you just push it," Douglas said quietly to no one in particular. And he walked a small circle that returned him to the crack in the door. He listened.
      "This is getting serious," said Dr. Bromyde, approaching Douglas's mom.
      "It's gotten better since Josef arrived," she replied, rising from her chair.
      "Amelia, I'd hardly call a talking space-rat better."
      "It is in fact a lab mouse," she corrected, as if that made more sense. Douglas smiled.
      "Yes, yes, well," the psychologist huffed, in that way that only really smart people can, "in any case, he is a fiction. And one that is keeping your child from a good night's sleep. Honestly, Amelia, sometimes I wonder..." He trailed off importantly.
      "Yes, doctor?" Amelia responded. She wasn't going to be beaten by silence. "What do you wonder?"
      "It's just, sometimes," he wasn't at all ready for this, so he stumbled and grew irritated, "you act as though you believe his dreams. Like this rodent is going to waltz in your back door tomorrow and take Douglas on some great space adventure to save the Universe. I think this fantasy is a convenient alternative to dealing with more important issues, like his father, and sometimes I wonder, well, I wonder if you want the fantasy to end." Douglas cringed.
      "Uh-oh," he whispered, "wrong answer, Doc."
      Things were suddenly very quiet in the office, and Douglas carefully peered inside. His mother stood there, kinda funny, with her mouth open, and her finger in the air. She turned away, then back again.
      "I know that there is a problem," she began finally, angrily, "and Douglas knows I will do anything to help him. But I am not a bad mum, and I am not going to listen to you tell me that I am."
      "Amelia - " the doctor protested, but she was already opening the door. Douglas jumped to a chair.
      "And I know he's not going on some great space adventure to save the Universe," she added, her hand on the doorknob, "just the world. Isn't it your job to listen?"
      This time, the door shut.
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2005-05-13T06:10:00.000-07:00

      Somewhere far away from the little blue-green planet known as Earth... there was empty space. Then, just a few flinches to the right... there was also empty space. But, even farther away, in a completely different direction, with a quick turn here and a nose-dive there... there was more empty space. Come to think of it, the Universe is pretty much nothing forever, with little moments of twinkly.
      And then there was Douglas Dent. He was floating somewhere in sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha, but didn't know it. He just knew that outer space was a very strange place for a twelve-year-old boy to be.
      There was a lot Douglas couldn't remember. For example, he couldn't remember if he'd brushed his teeth this morning. He couldn't remember whether he'd finished all his homework. And he especially couldn't remember why he'd been dropped off in the middle of outer space, instead of at Hamilton Elementary School. He did seem to remember being a tall boy with light brown hair, but when he tried to look for himself, there wasn't anything there. Just his thoughts drifting among stars and nebulas and things.
      He wondered what time it was back on Earth. Was he missing recess? Dinner? Bedtime? Without day and night, there'd be no way to tell when it was bedtime. Wait - no bedtime?! YES! He was finally free of all the things grown-ups had said were really important and totally unavoidable. No chores! No grades! No vegetables! Maybe this wasn't so bad after all...
      Then he felt it. At the very edge of his senses, a vibration began to ripple across the surface of the Universe. It rumbled through the darkness toward him, and the stars jangled like wind chimes in its wake.
      "Oh no," thought Douglas, "not again."
      But the rumbling only grew louder, closer, until he was tumbled by the force of a single, haunting, ghastly word: "DENT".
      The stars and nebulas and things swirled around, as if he'd been hit on the head with a large cartoon mallet. He panicked and grasped for one last dizzying glimpse of the Universe before it left him. Everything closed up and blinked out like an old TV screen.
      He opened his eyes.
      "AHHH!" yelped Douglas at the scariest big orange blur in the Universe.
      "Mr. Dent," spoke the orange blur, "I hope you haven't been sleeping through my lesson on mythology."
      "No, of course not," Douglas said through a yawn, "The sun was in my eyes." The class giggled.
      "Good," replied what looked more and more like Mrs. Thorne, "Then you can remind the class how our hero Perseus kept from getting turned to stone by the monster Medusa."
      "Sure," he said cheerily, "He used his shield as a mirror, so he didn't have to look at her - like this..." Douglas turned around in his chair, used his hand as a mirror, and fought a pretend monster behind him. The class laughed.
      "Correct," snapped what was now quite clearly his gray-haired, hard-chinned sixth-grade teacher, "Then you'll also have no trouble telling us who wrote the version of the story we've just read."
      Douglas desperately missed the big orange blur.
      "Of course not." He had no idea. "It was... umm..."
      Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It opened.
      "Mrs. Dent," announced Mrs. Thorne in a tone of sweet maple syrup, "What a pleasant surprise." Douglas felt the weight of a hundred thousand homework assignments lift from his mind. He went for his backpack and the door.
      "I didn't mean to interrupt class," said Douglas's mom, smiling weakly, "I just came to pick him up for a doctor's appointment."
      "No trouble at all," his teacher continued, drowning even the largest of pancakes. Then one of his classmates whispered "Lucky break, Doug," and Mrs. Thorne had found new prey.
      "As luck would have it, Mr. Chandler..." was the last thing Douglas heard before the door closed and he had escaped. He looked around, gave his mother a quick hug, and they started down the hall.
      "What was a lucky break, Dormouse?"
      She had heard. And Douglas quickly rediscovered the hundred thousand homework assignments - they had just been hiding in his backpack. He ignored them.
      "Would you stop calling me Dormouse?" he said instead, "I don't read that kid stuff anymore."
      "Well! Happy Unbirthday to you too!" she said with love, and then tried again, "Your friend said you got a lucky break."
      "Oh that?" mumbled Douglas, "You just got me out of class early, that's all."
      "Douglas," she said, and stopped walking. She knew what he was hiding.
      "Oh, no," he said, and stopped walking also. He knew that she knew, but was going to make him tell anyway.
      "Truth is like a jigsaw..." she began.
      "It's no good in pieces," he recited with her. She smiled at him and sighed, in that way that only mothers can, and they continued walking.
      "I fell asleep again because facts are boring!" he declared before she could say anything else. And then changed the subject again, just as quickly, "You didn't tell me I had a doctor's appointment."
      There was a pause.
      "We're going back to see Dr. Bromyde," she said hesitantly, "the sleep psychologist."
      "You never tell me things!" he exclaimed, and then wondered if he was actually frustrated, afraid of going to the psychologist again, or just trying to keep her from asking him more questions.
      Things were quiet as they walked out of the school and into the parking lot. It was a warm spring day, so there'd be no talking in the car either, just singing into the wind. Douglas reached for the brown, rusty door and stopped.
      "What's the matter, Hatter?" his mom asked. He looked at her, a little strangely.
      "You always lose puzzle pieces when you want," he said, and got into the car.
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