Rudy Rucker - The Ware Tetralogy

“Or Hell,” said Phil, and pushed himself away.

Phil woke up earlier than the others. He put on Humpty-Dumpty and got to work trying to see San Francisco again. This time he took closer notice of the six metallic tendrils leading kata from Om toward Earth. The tendrils seemed to be in pairs: two were golden, two silvery, and two copper-colored. All six led down toward the grid that seemed to be San Francisco. Was there any chance he might glimpse a slice of Yoke? Phil asked Om for help.

“Can you move us closer, Om?”

There was no audible answer, and Phil expected none. In last night’s dream conversations, Om had explained that she was accustomed to talking only to Metamartians, to beings who lived in endless layers of parallel time. Om’s utterances were so diffuse that a human needed to be asleep in order to achieve a state of mind subtle enough to hear her voice.

But even though the waking Phil couldn’t hear Om’s answer, he could see that his request had been noted, for now the grid pattern of San Francisco began to expand. The crazy, shifting angles of the cross-sectional buildings seemed no more than a few thousand yards off . Phil felt sure Yoke was down there. What if he jumped kata toward her? This might work—or it might not. He might end up like an animated sidewalk painting of a man with all his innards on display. Or fall through Earth-space entirely. Or not intersect it at all.

Someone was tugging on his legs. Da. Last night had been way gnarly. Tempest had gone on to find snap and gabba in the ever expanding catalog and then, though Phil managed not to witness it, the maddened Da and Darla had probably fucked. Ironic, that. All Phil and Yoke had managed so far was to kiss and to lie briefly in the same bed. Kid stuff .

This morning Tempest was nodded out on gabba, but Kurt and Darla were wide-awake on snap, very wired, very lifted. Why did people do this to themselves? “I’ll do it, Phil,” chattered Da. “I’ll go into the Light, and Om will be satisfied. Sacrifice Abraham instead of Isaac. And then Om will let you and Darla go back to Earth.”

“Calm down, Da.” Humpty-Dumpty slid off of Phil, but Phil kept a good hold on the fat egg, lest Da try something rash. Today was going to be xoxxy. This was definitely Hell—or at least that’s what these pheezers were making it into.

“He’s right,” said Darla, her eyes looking glazed and jittery. She was naked again, with Planet at her side. “Kurt and I have been fabbing about it all night. Om must want one of us to jump all the way out of that hole. She’s like curious to see what happens. And if Kurt does the deed, then Om will put us back. Why can’t you wave it, Phil?”

It occurred to Phil that—duh!—he hadn’t yet thought of directly asking Om to return them. So now he tried.

“Dear Om, please put us back on Earth. Please take us back.”

Kurt and Darla were quiet for a minute, looking around, but nothing happened.

“I’m going out now,” said Kurt, tugging at Humpty-Dumpty.

“Stop it!” said Phil.

“Give it to him!” said Darla, prying at Phil’s arms. “It’s the only way!”

“You guys are too spun to know what you’re talking about,” said Phil. “Forget it.”

But then Kurt and Darla set upon him in earnest. The excited Planet began wildly barking. It was hard for Phil to fight back, to strike out at his father and at the plump, nude mother of the girl he loved. But he managed to stave them off—until Darla woke Tempest.

“We need to get the Humpty-Dumpty doll,” Darla told Tempest after jabbing her into wakefulness. The old cracker woman’s eyes were goofball pinpoints of instant rage. “Phil won’t give us the doll,” hissed Darla. “Work out on him, Tempest.” The lean Tempest joined battle with a streetwise savagery.

A minute later Phil’s face was bleeding from where Tempest had clawed him, and he was doubled over from being kicked between the legs. And now Darla had managed to bind his wrists with a knotted loop of material from her discarded clothes. Tempest looked like she was ready to beat up on him some more.

“No, we’re done now, Tempest,” said Darla, shoving the vicious crone away. “We’ve got the Humpty-Dumpty doll. See? Kurt’s putting it on. Time for you to get weightless, Tempest. Take another hit of gabba. That’s a girl. Curl up with Planet there, Yaaar, nice furry dog. Wavy dreams, sistah.” And then Tempest was asleep again.

“I hope you’re all right, Phil,” said Darla, dabbing at his wounds. “I didn’t viz that Tempest would come at you so giga nasty.”

“I’m sorry, son,” said Kurt. “And don’t worry, I’m not just doing this for you. My life’s garbage, has been ever since I left Eve for Willow. I don’t want to go back to Earth. They’ve already had my funeral! I’m moving on. Into the SUN. Can’t be any worse than this. And maybe Om really will set you back down.”

“Da—”

“And one other thing, Phil. I’m sorry I ever dumped on you for not finishing college. It doesn’t matter. You’ll do fine, whatever you do. You’re a good man. You have heart and soul. And you’re every bit as smart as I ever was.”

Hearing that made Phil feel wonderful. Like a weight falling from his shoulders. “Thanks, Da.” He smiled. “You’re good too. Now please take that suit off and tell Darla to let me go.”

“Sorry.” And with that Kurt pushed himself out through the flaw and disappeared.

“Set me loose, Om!” cried Phil. And the knots around his wrists slipped free. Phil peered into Om’s ever-expanding alla catalog, and there, just where he needed it, was a bubbletopper spacesuit. “Actualize,” he said, and when Darla snatched the first spacesuit, he made another one. And then he was halfway out the hole in Om’s hypersphere, peering out through his imipolex visor to look for his dad.

At first he couldn’t find him. He saw a cross section of the Earth, the mountainous pink curves of Om, the six shiny tendrils leading from Om kata toward Earth, and the great SUN ana everything.

And then way out there, silhouetted against the Divine Light, appeared the brave little figure of his father, moving steadily ana.

It would have been nice to end like that, but now something shocking happened. A jagged beaklike form streaked across hyperspace toward his father. Wobbling his head this way and that, Phil could make out a few more sections of the intruder—each view was fierce and angular, like shark jaws, like a heraldic predatory bird. And then the beast struck at his father and ripped him in two.

Phil groaned in agony, as did Darla, who was next to him now, watching as well. Phil had been wondering if he might retrieve his father, but he now knew there could be no restoration. The hyperspace monster tore his father to bits. It was too sad. Da would never make it to the SUN.

But wait—now Phil glimpsed a final resolution. A form like a tattered butterfly lifted out of the torn fragments of Da’s body. Gently beating its wings, the gossamer shape continued ana, ever closer to the final Light.

Phil passed the rest of the day grieving, looking through the alien alla catalog, and praying for Om to take him back to Yoke in San Francisco. He avoided Tempest, but he had a pretty good conversation with Darla, who was supertalkative from all the snap. Finally he was tired enough to go to sleep.

Babs and Yoke alla-made themselves some nice new outfits for the evening’s outing. Yoke made herself a plush green crop-top and black leather pants with elastic along the seams. Babs made herself a form-fitting red dress with a low decolletage, a white cashmere cardigan, and a funny little red flower-bud of a hat.