Excerpt Twenty-Five
Sigh On
‘Mabel and Frank,’ Mabel thought, out loud… ‘Why was the entity that was the two of them, Frank and Mabel? Why not Mabel and Frank? Why not just Mabel, fuck Frank, fuck running around saving the world with the cataracts and ingrowing toenails that were Frank.’ She could just take her own lance and rent it out to a fat payer, or payor, whatever, and joust the fuck out of all-comers and their conker collections. Her thought spurt was new, and publicly broadcast. Frank was listening, processing, anticipating a response that never came, unneeded: unbelievably, Frank was privately thinking the same thing; his silence said as much.
They retained a oneness, and yet, the oceanic scene was being set… A potential future flashed through both their minds almost simultaneously that presaged an iceberg slicing their catamaran in two; the hulls of Frank & Mabel keeling over, and then righting themselves with re-invention; taking compass readings, scanning the horizons, and setting sail on contrastingly dissimilar bearings. Already poles apart; The Mabel, drifting away into the sunset; the Frank bobbing up and down amid the sunrise bound windstreams.
Of course the talk remained in the same. They shared an orbit, and spoke earnestly of togetherness, teamwork; and Two for All, and All for Two, but it was just talk, a breeze of words, gusting to squalls of chat, drenching them in natterances of denial and false truth.
They had a lot of time on their hands and it ran down their arms and into crevices that served as arteries to the crevasses forged by the Ages. A drone in the mountainous distance neared, closered, threatening Time and her precious wastelands with instant dismissal.
The cleaning and polishing undertaken by Frank and Mabel had come back round to dusting new dust that made the clodhopping atmospherical filtration system look inappropriately nonchalant. The cavern of early-tech, the theatre-of-the-outdated, swung slowlymotioned into a fluff-punching packet of mild activity. A ‘magnetic tape’ of a voice, crackled; spoke in a jolly, metallic staccato, ‘Welcome! Today, you are about to experience, in a very fun way, how technology has transformed all our lives, promising us all a bright and rosey future. Well, let’s not dwell on the would be’s. Let us get under way with the what are’s…’
Frank and Mabel rose from a ‘the-end-is-coming-soon-anyway’ slouch, standing, they raced forward to confront the operations panel.
As no one had expected the end of the world to start so soon, not even, it seemed, the perpetrators of the unnatural passing of Mother Nature and her off-spring, the control panels had gaps and holes and exposed wire harnessing. It was far from finished; it spoke, at length, of unissued health and safety certificates.
By the time Frank and Mabel looked at each other, across the rising tide of stillness, the voice had adjusted a little, sweetened some, background distractions lessened, ‘… Our leaders have created this facility as a precaution against techrenegades or maliciously programmed Artificial Intelligence. But relax, such scenarios emanate from the imagination of science fiction authors. For the purposes of our interactive encounter let us play along with the game. Ours is not to question why, yes? Just a brief note on background, this program is brought to you by SuperTech Industries and Novel Kinesiology, and not to be sniffed at… Ha, Ha, Ha…’
Both Frank and Mabel assumed the antiquated operating system would be updated just as soon as the data sieving inlet security drip-line caught up with currency.
…And…
They were right. What subliminal training had been fed to their minds during unconscious training modules had surfaced and was gasping for air. It was like returning to a childhood home that held fond memories to find a ruin and evidence of gruesome evacuation splattered all over what remained of the walls.
‘Come on guys. Let’s get interfaced! Plug yourselves in and secure the ride, scream if you want to go faster…Aree youuu readyyy?’
‘UPDATE available, please instigate a reboot and download system update, this update is vital to accommodate strained data still being pooled for integration into generic scenarios missions accumulations… malfunctioreboot.’
‘Do we upload and reboot or reboot and then upload?’
‘Both.’
‘Are you—‘
‘No, too scary. Upload…’
‘I agree,’ said Frank, wanting, but unable, to disagree.
They both had to turn a key and press a button, which was replicated on their designated screens, within three seconds of each other to initiate the operating system download.
They read a text silently, simultaneously, it read:
‘My name is Una. This is an ES OH ES. If there is anyone there…This is an SOS, not for me, but for you…anyone with any command at the resistance Headquarters… The QASAI system is…’
Was this a joke? A prank? A glitch? A virus? A test? A program?
‘Download complete… extraction from quarantine and virus eradication process initiated…’ came a new voice; sophisticated compared to the first, sounding almost human, dating it to at least a decade before. More downloads were to come before Frank and Mabel could make any sense of the situation.
Frank needed instruction from an upchain command authority to progress. Mabel secretly endured nothing but unadulterated agreement with him…
And yet…
Frank & Mabel, Frank and Mabel…Frank…Mabel…Mabel…Frank, Etc. The relationship was clogged up in a bog of unfamiliarity and an impossible lack of intimacy. Their mutual, dual monitoring role necessitating separate command structures, that needed to materialise for them to progress, for the sake of…the sake of…what? Playing by the rules?
Underlying this proposed bifurcation of the Mabel/Frank complex; darting about in the shadows, in the stream, in the depths beneath conscious connection, was Fate and the realisation, all angles bent into shape, that Fate was playing them at a game that it had already won. One clarity had overridden another clarity.
Besides…
‘Who,’ Fraybel thought, ‘was Una?’
‘And, what,’ Maybank, pondered, ‘was the QASAI system?’
