Энди Вейр: Short Story Collection

“So I grabbed a handful of money from one of the drawers. ‘Hey, what the hell are you doing?’ someone said. ‘Oh, my bad’ I said, putting the money back. ‘I’m new.’ Then everyone was happy again.”

“Seriously?” He asked.

“Yeah, seriously.”

“Cause it sounds like bullshit,” he said suspiciously.

“I did some more tests over the next few days. As far as I can tell, everywhere I go, everyone thinks I’m supposed to be there.”

“Yup,” he said. “Definitely smelling the bullshit now.”

“But it’s not a free ride. People think I’m supposed to be there, but I can only get away with doing things they expect. I stole some drugs from a pharmacy, just to see if I could. I walked right behind the counter, got an empty pill container, and filled it with Valium. The pharmacists didn’t give me a second look. People who are supposed to be there are expected to fill pill bottles. But people at a bank are notexpected to grab handfuls of cash. See?”

“See? No. Smell? Yes.”

“I figure I could work for you.”

“See what I did there?” He pointed out, “I was talking about smelling the bullshit.”

“I need money. Give me a job with a good salary. I’ll spy for you.”

“On who?”

“Whoever you want! I’m sure you’ve got all kinds of people you’d like to spy on. I could just go wherever they are and sit quietly. Maybe take notes. Whatever you want.”

He sighed. “If your delusion really were true, then yes, I could use someone like you,” he agreed. “But come on. You expect me to believe you can waltz in to high security areas, past countless guards? And that you can chat with people there and they won’t know anything’s wrong? Can you provide any proof? Anything at all?”

She leaned forward. “I don’t know, Mr. President. You tell me.”

He lay prone, his eyes fluttering open.

Near-darkness granted the sky a dark blue hue. Was it early morning? Late evening? He didn’t know. Gentle winds rustled the tall grass surrounding him. Slowly sitting up, he took in his surroundings. There was nothing. Just tall grass all the way to the dark horizon.

His face grew increasingly more puzzled as he tried to remember how he got there. Last he remembered, he was in his apartment. Had he gone to bed? How did he get to this place?

Standing, he brushed the dirt off his overcoat and turned a full circle, surveying the landscape. He looked for anything. Anything at all. Any feature, no matter how minor, might tell him where he was or how to get home. There was nothing.

“…boredom…”

He cringed at the sudden… sound? No, it wasn’t a sound. It was a thought. But not his own.

“Who’s there?” he called out nervously.

“…me…”

Jerking his head about, he tried to find the source of the words. But they hadn’t come from anywhere. They had simply happened.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“…me…”

“That’s not an answer,” he said. “Where am I!?”

“…me…”

“Who are you?”

“…me…”

He paced through the grass. There didn’t seem to be any place to go, so he walked in a circle. “I don’t know why I’m asking you anything. I have no way of knowing if you’re lying.”

“…what… lying…?”

“You don’t know what a lie is?”

“…no…”

“It’s when you say something that isn’t true.”

“…unable…”

“You can’t lie? Everyone can lie.”

“…demonstrate… lie…”

“Uh, ok. I’m ten feet tall.”

“Interesting!”

A small table appeared before him. On it rested a plate with a roast beef sandwich.

“Wha—” he stammered. “What the hell is this?”

“…reward…”

“You gave me a sandwich?”

“…humans require food…”

“You can make stuff?”

“…anything…”

He picked up the sandwich. No point in worrying about poison. This entity could kill him easily if it wanted to. He took a bite. Not bad.

“How did I get here?” he asked between mouthfuls.

“…took you…”

“Why?”

“…boredom…”

“You kidnapped me because you had nothing better to do?”

“…boredom… millions of years… sensed your plane… interesting… took you…”

“What are you?”

“…me…”

“Yes, I know you’re you. But what are you?”

“…me…”

“Ok, one more try. What kind of being or entity are you? And don’t say ‘me’. Give me an explanation of what you are without using pronouns.”

“…plane of existence… alive… self-aware… wandering the void…”

He gestured to the featureless terrain. “So this is you? You’re this entire plane of existence?”

“…yes…”

“And you can reach in to my plane. That’s how you grabbed me.”

“…yes…”

“Then you can put me back.”

“…yes…”

“So put me back!”

“…no… must alleviate boredom…”

“All I’m going to do is try to escape.”

“…that will be interesting…”

“Damn it!” He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. “Ok, so you’re bored? You want something to do?”

“…yes…”

“Look at Earth. The plane you took me from. There are billions of people there doing all sorts of stuff.”

“…daily lives… boring…”

“So find something interesting.”

“…already did… found you…”

“I’m not your damn pet.”

“…inaccurate… I will give food… care for… keep safe… you will entertain… this is a pet…”

He thought for a moment. “If you send me to Earth, can you pull me back whenever you want?”

“…yes…”

“And it’s impossible for me to get away, right?”

“…correct…”

“So send me home. I’ll find you something interesting to look at.”

A white door appeared in front of him. It was attached to nothing, simply standing upright in the meadow.

“I think I see how this works,” he said, opening the door. As he suspected, it was a portal back to Earth. It looked to be a city street. Stepping through, he felt the hard sidewalk under his feet. Passers-by took no notice of his sudden appearance.

“Excuse me,” he said to a man walking by.

“Yes?” said the man.

“Sorry, never mind.”

The man scowled at him and continued on his way.

“They can see and hear me,” he mumbled, “but they didn’t notice me show up.”

“…protection…”

“You made them ignore me?”

“…yes… only notice if you directly interact…”

“At least I don’t look like a lunatic talking to myself. Let’s find you something interesting. How about a museum?”

“…no… make abnormality…”

“Abnormality? Like what?”

“…make things happen that have never happened…”

“How would I do that?”

“…you decide… I enact…”

“What can you do?”

“…anything…”

“So why do you need me?”

“…you decide… I enact…”

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have an imagination. That’s what this is about. You aren’t capable of coming up with interesting things to do.”

“…correct…”

“So I’m not just a pet. I’m a service animal. Like a guide-dog for the blind. I’m an idea-human for the unimaginative.”