Rudy Rucker - The Ware Tetralogy

Phil squinted kata toward where the alla-threads met the cross section of Earth. Slowly, slowly, Om was moving them closer. Closer to Yoke. He prayed for their landing to come soon. As he was watching, a new pair of alla-threads appeared, purple ones. Someone else on Earth had just gotten an alla. He wondered who, but the only way to ask Om would be to fall asleep and dream. And he wasn’t tired.

Phil had lunch with Darla and Tempest, played with Planet, looked out the flaw some more, showed Darla and Tempest his alien “fishbowl,” examined Starshine’s old wowo, thought about flying machines, and carved a little on the oak tree with his fuzzy alien pocketknife. The way the knife worked was that its little metal tentacles would pick away at something to carve out the shape you wanted. It didn’t have any kind of DIM hookup; you controlled the little feelers by turning the knife this way or that. Phil carved “Yoke” and then started on a bas-relief of her face, as best he could remember. The carving wasn’t coming out all that well, but learning to use the knife was a pleasant enough way to pass the time.

And then, finally, there was a pop and a dark ball appeared in the midst of their hyperspherical space, off to one side of the oak. Phil pushed off from the oak, drifting toward the black ball. “Come on, Darla,” he called. “This is the exit. You too, Tempest. Bring the dog.”

The women hauled themselves up the trunk and pushed toward the black sphere as well. Nobody doubted that this was their salvation.

As they entered the dark ball there was a hyperdimensional switcheroo. The space inside the dark ball became their space, and the Om space they’d come from became the inside of a small bright ball behind them.

As they switched spaces, there was a stretching and pulling in Phil’s guts again, but he didn’t mind. Anything to get back home. Darla and Tempest thumped into him; Tempest was carrying Planet. Phil was worried the women’s impact might knock him out of the dark space, but he stayed well within it.

It wasn’t completely black in the new space, there was a dim yellow glow, with spots. The bright ball of the space they’d come from was shrinking. Still visible within it were the warped tiny images of the oak tree and Starshine’s wowo. Now that they were inside the dark space, it seemed ever brighter, and no longer so round. It was longer than it was wide, and dim yellow with spots on it—

“We’re inside my blimp!” exclaimed Phil, and then— pow— the spotted blimp burst. Phil clearly heard the ting of his father’s wedding ring falling to the platform of the stage they landed on, and then Planet started barking. There was a spotlight shining down on them and a few people staring up, very surprised, but where was—

“Phil!” screamed Yoke, running toward the stage. “Ma!”

“Yoke!” Da’s wedding ring was right down there by Phil’s foot, the ring finally unknotted by this last disturbance of space, and Phil scooped it up before Yoke jumped onto the stage. He hugged her and kissed her, and before Yoke could say much more of anything else, he put the ring on her finger and said, “I want to marry you, Yoke, I never want to lose you again,” and Yoke kissed him some more and said, “Yes, yes, me too.”

And then Yoke began to hug Darla. There wasn’t really anyone for Tempest to hug, but Randy Karl Tucker hugged her anyway. Babs Mooney was right at Randy’s side, clinging to his arm; it looked to Phil like they’d grown closer while he’d been gone, which was kind of surprising, though it made sense in a way.

Phil felt into his pocket where he had the fuzzy knife, the black “fishbowl,” and the necklace with the big gem. He put the necklace on Yoke for good measure. Yoke was all smiles, squeezed in between Phil and Darla. The gem looked amazing, continually changing between looking like a ruby, an emerald, a diamond, and a sapphire. And Da’s gold ring was shining on Yoke’s finger. Phil felt like his heart would burst. They were on the stage of the nearly empty show room in the Anubis, with most of the few remaining people wandering off to the bar rather than pressing forward with questions; they seemed to think this miraculous appearance had just been some kind of hokey, overblown magic trick.

Cobb came across the dark room from the little door on the far side, his pink skin looking a little rough and blotchy.

“Phil’s back!” Babs called to Cobb. “Along with this dog and two women! Yoke’s mother.”

“I know,” said Cobb. “Hi, Darla. Hi, Tempest.”

“Kin you flaaah me and Planet down to Tre and Terri’s, Cobb?” Tempest wanted to know. “I bet they been worried sick.”

“Worried sick that she’ll come back,” Yoke giggled to Phil.

“I’m gonna stay here, Tempest,” said Cobb. “There’s, um, too much going on. And frankly I’m a bit lit. I was trying to talk to Siss, but before I knew it I’d rubbed on some betty and started conjugating with her. What a session. I’ve got to learn to lay off this stuff. Whew. It’s too much fun. Hire a Snooks moldie to . . . um . . . take you to Santa Cruz, Tempest. Ask one of those dancers in the bar.”

“Ah don’t have that kind o’ money.”

“Here,” said Yoke, pulling a big bill out of her purse. “Now scram, Tempest. You can’t be the focus. We’ve got Phil and my mom here, we’ve got seven Metamartians disguised as moldies, we’ve—”

“Seven aliens?” cried Tempest. “Kill them!”

“Shut your pie-hole, Tempest,” said Cobb. “They’re leaving anyway. Go the hell home.”

“And don’t blab,” cautioned Yoke. “No need for the Snookses to get worked up.”

“You were so dumb to tell her, Yoke,” put in Babs. “She’s such a redneck.”

“Xoxx all of you,” said Tempest, and stomped off, dragging Planet after her.

“You’re lifted, Cobb?” said Babs. “How lame. Did you find out how to make an alla? Did you get the message about the plutonium to Om?”

“I’m not really lifted,” said Cobb. “Just buzzed. And, yes, I told Siss to tell Om to please not let us make plutonium or uranium. Siss was surprised that we thought instant atomic bombs would be such a big problem. Weird. It’s the two-dimensional time thing again. On Metamars it doesn’t matter all that much if a city gets blown up; it’ll still be around in all the other time lines. But, yeah, she passed the word to Om. Check in your catalog and see if you can still make plutonium. And, um, as far as copying allas goes, Siss told me that Phil already knows how to do it. Is that true, Phil?”

“Yeah,” smiled Phil. “Om told me. We can make allas for everyone. Everything’s going to change.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Yoke.

“And Om really got the message!” exclaimed Babs, who’d been focused inward on her alla. “I just checked, and plutonium is like grayed out in the catalog. Uranium too.”

“So maybe I’m not so lame,” said Cobb proudly. “More news. The Metamartians are leaving here tonight because, um, the seven of them are planning to make a new baby. It takes them about three months. Sweet Siss is gonna be a mommy.”

“They’re leaving Earth?” asked Yoke. “We’re off the hook?”

“Not quite,” said Cobb. “They’re not ready to leave Earth entirely. Like I say, they have to finish mating and, um, gestating and all that. And they want to kind of keep an eye on things too. To make sure we aren’t ruining everything with the allas. Did I say that they’re planning to travel around in a flying saucer?”

“A saucer?” said Phil. “Have they been talking to Kevvie?”

“You hit the nail on the head,” said Cobb.

“You’re kidding!” said Phil.