Руди Рюкер - Master Of Space And Time

"Our leader is meditating," she called down the stairs to them. "He is receiving truth."

"Looks like he received a whole fifth's worth."

"Oh, Dr. F., I'm so glad you're back. Those vulgarians keep asking for Harry."

"We'd better pour some water on him. I'm going to need his help to get the blunzer going."

"You found the blue gluons?"

"Yes," said Sondra. "And we didn't have to shoot anyone."

"Thank goodness."

Sondra and I drank a little vodka to keep the Gary-brains off, and then I got to work.

"Harry," I crooned, dribbling a glass of water over his scalp. "Wood, Harry. Wooden thoughts, wooden moods, wooden sensations." I reached down and began pinching his cheek. "Dry martinis, Harry. Cold beer. Fried chicken. Naked women. Come on, you fat slob, wake up!"

Slowly he righted himself. There was a big orange smear of yam around his mouth. "Those brains," said the mouth. "They won't get me again."

"I have the gluons, Harry. Three and a third grams."

"Four minutes' worth," he said, brightening. "Do you know what to wish for?" He dabbed daintily at his mouth with a filthy handkerchief. "I seem to have dropped off for a minute."

"Here, Harry," said Antie, proffering a mug of sweet coffee. "Drink this to clear your head." Harry slurped down the coffee while Sondra and I knocked back a little more vodka.

Finally our leader lurched to his feet. "Let's do it."

"What about the disciples?" fretted Sondra. "They'll smell the liquor and try to —"

"Fletch'll kill them," said Harry. "Did he waste Baumgard?"

"I don't kill anyone," I protested. "I'm no gunsel."

"Then give me the shotgun. Lead the way, Antie."

Antie told the disciples to leave, but one of them wouldn't budge. It was the big fellow I'd spoken to yesterday, the jerk with the stained-glass vocabulary. Suddenly I realized where I'd seen him before. He was the chauffeur who'd carried the first Garybrain over here!

"Behold," he intoned, walking toward us with open arms. "The flesh of our Lord's udder hath been milked to anoint the Father's wen."

"Beat it," snapped Harry. "Or I'll blow your stinking head off."

"He likes that expression," whispered Sondra with a giggle.

"But, master, surely it is written that the oxen low. And where His hoof hath sucked…"

The shotgun blast was very loud in the small store. Fortunately Harry was so ripped that only a few pellets struck his looking-glass disciple. The fellow took off like a whipped dog. A lot of people pressed their faces against the store window to peer in. Antie locked the front door.

"We better go in back," I urged, taking Harry by the arm. He was trying to reload the shotgun. I had the gluons in one hand. "Come on, Harry, don't antagonize them."

"It is the Anti-Gary," the big disciple was wailing outside. "His milk is sour!" An angry mutter swept through the crowded street. The people looking in the window could see we had no slugs on our backs. Harry was leaning over now, trying to pick up a shell he'd dropped.

"Goddamn, Harry, come on!"

Sondra and I dragged him back into the workshop. Antie had already started the blunzing chamber's refrigeration unit.

"Okay, Fletcher," said Harry. He was suddenly sober. "Give me the gluons and go on in there. Just lie down on the hotshot table and put on the breathing mask."

With difficulty I made myself hand Harry the bottle of gluons. I couldn't believe it was already time for me to get blunzed. I hadn't even made up my list of wishes. But the crowd outside was increasingly noisy. Someone was hammering at the back door. They'd be breaking in before long.

"Does the needle hurt much?" I wanted to know.

"Turning chicken?" snarled Harry as he clicked on the microwave cavity. "Would you like me to get blunzed instead of you?"

"Don't let Harry go again," cried Sondra. "It has to be you, Joe. You're the only one with enough sense."

"All right," I sighed. "But I wish I had something I really wanted. I wish I had a wish."

"Maybe you'll think of something," said Sondra soothingly. "I'll try to help you." Lord, she was beautiful.

"Antie, get the gluons," said Harry. "Well, go on, Fletch. Go on in."

The street noise had grown to a steady roar. I opened the blunzing chamber's door and peered in at the grim death table. Flakes of frost formed in the frigid air.

"Is there anything you want, Harry? Any wishes for you?"

"Just get Gary Herber off people's backs. I've had enough excitement for a while."

"Don't forget about me," called Sondra. "Or the fritter trees."

There was a crash from the store's front. They'd broken the big window.

"Here goes," I said, and hurried into the blunzing chamber. It was cold and dark. I lay down on the hotshot table and slipped the breathing mask over my mouth. Sondra slammed the door shut, and then one of them energized the chamber's copper sheathing. The electrostatic field set most of my hair on end. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see faint glow-discharges at the tips of my fingers.

Now came the singing sound of the gluons merging into the microwave field, and then the crash blast of the gluons being fed into the vortex coil. There were yelling voices in the workshop — the Herberites. Harry's shotgun roared; the voices drew back.

The vortex coil grew louder, so loud that the struggle was drowned out. The hotshot table shook with the chatter scream. I braced myself for the instant when the long needle would plunge down through my skull.

There was a heavy thump. Agony in my ears, chamber at vacuum, the swift crunch of needle through bone. I tried not to scream.

The Planck juice was in my brain now, I could feel the white heat of it. My whole body felt prickly and soft. I was a hologram made of pure light.

The needle slid back out. I sat up. Copies of me twisted off like soap bubbles from a bubble wand. It was still dark in the blunzing chamber. I could see perfectly. I felt no need to breathe. A crowd of tiny Fletchers flew around me. My little echoes, correction terms to the blunzing process. This felt good. This felt good.

I wished myself out of the chamber, and there I was, out in the workshop. A terrible fight was in full progress. Five of the Herberites had broken in. Harry had killed the big looking-glass one with his shotgun, but just now one of the others had slashed Harry's throat open with a machete! Covered with blood, Harry was lying dead on the floor!

Seeing me, Sondra began screaming for help while the Herberites with the machete charged at me and…

I WISH EVERYTHING BUT ME WOULD STOP MOVING. The trick for stopping the world is basically to turn your time axis at right angles to everyone else's. It's nothing for the master of space and time. The room around me grew still. The struggling people were like so many waxworks.

I WANT A DIGITAL DISPLAY OF THE TIME I HAVE LEFT. Purple numbers appeared in my field of vision: 3:50. Only ten seconds gone so far. Good. Now what? First bring Harry back to life — he'd done the same for Antie.

I glanced over at Harry — but that's not quite correct. I could see in every direction at once, all the time. When I say, "I glanced over at Harry," what I really mean is that I focused part of my attention on him. A few hundred of the little Fletchers flew over to transmit my wish. I healed up his wound, and as an afterthought, got rid of his headache. Now it was time for the real work. Too bad I'd had to hurry into this half-cocked.

3:42.

I WISH I HAD MY LIST OF WISHES.

20. God Goes Trans-Sex1. Send voice back.2. Sondra's body.3. The Gary-brains.4. Ten million dollars.5. Plaza penthouse.6. Power of flight for Nancy.7. Porkchop bushes and fritter trees.8. Indiana.9. Baumgard.10. How the blunzer works. Tell Harry.

The list, in my own handwriting, seemed to be complete. I tucked it in my shirt pocket and got to work.