Xerox

A typical event in the life of a bad sci-fi writer

 

Xerox

 

By Dax Radtke

 

 

SO there I was, sitting at my computer desk in a lost place in Alaska. Not much reason to sit there other than that here in my small cabin, in the absolutely isolated middle of nowhere, for some weird reason about which I am very skeptical, strange s**t happens to me. I don’t have to make stuff up. I could just write it down. Problem is; the stuff that happens is really lame. No sci-fi writer would report this stuff or write about it. It’s just stupid and pointless – and impossible. For instance:

Tonight a slightly-glowing blue rectangle appeared where the window should be. I looked over for no particular reason and the f****n’ window got all foggy for about three seconds, then this blue thing came into focus where the window was. Yah, another no-way story was being handed to me. I rotated my office chair and sat back rather bored to stare at the thing. Nothing.

“OK, this is your game.” I said out loud to an empty cabin. Nothing. While I sat there I started thinking how stupid this situation was – again. I’m just a bad science fiction writer. I can come up with my own stories. That’s why I moved to Alaska, to get away from everything else and concentrate on my writing. I don’t need these distractions. As soon as I moved into this cabin a bunch of nobody-would-ever-believe-it stuff started to happen. Yah, I write the stories, but not even I believe them. They’re apparently just some very bad writing I’m channeling from some terribly unimaginative being from some nearby universe or another. I wish he had a little imagination, but the situations he usually puts me into are so predictable I tend to lose interest. This was no exception. A “magic blue rectangle” had “appeared” at my cabin. Yah, visible to me from my computer where I just happen to be sitting trying to write science fiction. Sure. This happens all the time. The old magic blue thing bit. Hell, I’m not even curious.

So it just stood there, blocking my view out the window. Actually it kind of pissed me off. I rolled a fatty from some really bad weed I’d gotten from a spacey Alaska local. He’s a musician. Sort of. His music’s pretty average and a little on the whiny side, but he’s harmless enough already. I lit the joint and remembered instantly why he had given it to me free. It was crap.

After choking and coughing my head off on the s**t, I looked again at the blue rectangle. It was about the size of a small door. Still not interesting. “I’d rather see out my window if you don’t mind” I stated out loud to any alien beings that may be observing me as a test.

“This is stupid.” I said, and went back to concentrating on my blank computer screen. Being this distracted does little for a writer’s imagination. I made a few false starts in the next half hour but it was clear that this was another episode of writer’s block, and it would accomplish nothing to sit at the keyboard and get frustrated. Besides that damn blue thing won’t go away. It just hovers there in front of the window, tempting me to be a lab rat. I know it. I’m not just some dumb human they can play with. I refuse to be an experiment.

I finished off another Mountain Dew and threw the can at the rectangle. It passed through it and disappeared. OK it’s a door, I thought. I figured it would be a great garbage disposal. “I am not going to write a story about this. It’s stupid, unbelievable, and not even all that interesting as science fiction goes.” I said to whomever was sending this thing to me. Then about ten seconds after I had thrown in the can, two of them popped out. Both were dented the same. Both were empty. I got the idea.

“A Xerox machine?” I asked the observer. “I’m unimpressed. Big deal. So what? You can copy stuff. Ooooh, you’re so smart. Golly, what kind of amazing, far-advance civilization would ever dream up an invention like that? Great big deal, but no thanks, not interested. I am not writing a story about a Xerox machine.”

After a few more minutes of staring at it I pulled my wallet out and got out a dollar bill, then tossed it into the “portal.” Ten seconds later two came back. I looked at them. Same serial number. Hmmm. I threw in a small potato. Two came out. I tossed them into the micro-wave and hit 4 minutes, then turned on CNN to amuse me while I ate. They were delicious. “It’s still a stupid story, and I’m not going to write it.” I said to…whomever.

I threw my dirty plate into the sink, looked up at the portal in my loft, and sat down to do some thinking. It’s a Xerox machine, a duplicator of some sort. Could come in handy, but why is it so big? I mean you could walk into it! What would happen if I did? Would there be two of me suddenly? Hmmmm. It’d be easy enough to do, but the ramifications of having an identical twin, no a clone, no a duplicate – Well whatever it would be, it just doesn’t seem right. On the other hand, hey, I could send “duplicate me” to work while I took a day off. Hell, I could make him a slave! Then I wouldn’t have to do anything! I could make an army of “me’s,” and build a house! Yah, they could chop down trees, shape the logs, and make the log cabin I’d intended to build someday happen in a matter of weeks if there were enough of them.

But then what would I do with ‘em?

Ah Huh! I’d have ‘em build several cabins, like a camp. Then we’d all live together, a bunch of me’s! I’d have someone to play pinochle with whenever I wanted to. I’d have someone to run into town and get groceries when I needed them. Wait, that wouldn’t be necessary because anything I needed I could just throw into the “duplicator” and get two back. I’d never lack for anything! WE’d never lack for anything.

Except women. Hold on a sec, I could invite out a cutie from town, trot her into the contraption, and have a spare for myself! I could get spares made out of any gorgeous babe I could con into stepping into the thing! Well, well, well.

Hold on, this is getting out of control. A bunch of “me’s,” to do my work, and a bunch of “dupli-babes” to play with, and free food and supplies for life, hmmmm. What’s the catch? I had to think this thing out before acting too hastily.

What if I didn’t duplicate any living things, but instead drove a snowmobile up to the portal and hopped off? Wouldn’t I get two back? I could sell one and keep one. Hey wait! I could get a tiny amount of gold, a nugget or two, then duplicate them over and over. I’d be rich! Yea! That’s it! Start duplicating gold – or silver – or diamonds! OK, I think I’m warming up to this thing. It’s still not a story to write, but it might be a handy little tool to have around the house.

No! Every time I let these weird things tempt me I get in trouble. That’s why this stuff happens to me all the time, because I’m a cooperative lab rat. It had been like that ever since I moved into this cabin. Some advanced beings had apparently discovered that I make a good little lab rat. Every time I end up embarrassing myself, and I get nothing, notta, bubkis out of it. Well it aint going to happen again. No. “I am not interested.” I said outloud.

I went down into the living room to watch some CNN. That would get my mind off that damn contraption. I eventually nodded off, and woke up the next morning with a crook in my neck from sleeping on the couch. After making coffee I headed up to the computer. I glance over to the window, and that damn blue rectangle hadn’t moved. I ignored it and sat down and booted up. While waiting I looked over at the blue thing, then noticed something amiss. On the floor near it sat only one Mountain Dew can. I looked around. What had happened to the duplicate?

Ignore it, ignore it. I am not a lab rat. It doesn’t matter.

On the other hand, what would be wrong with taking advantage of the situation and writing the story? So what if it’s cheating. If some strange advanced being was going to screw with my head, the least I could do was make a profit out of it. I mean what would be wrong with that?

“It’s a crappy, unbelievable, uninteresting story no one would believe, no one would read, and no one will publish.” I said outloud. “A total waste of time.” I got up and started down the steps to the main floor to make a snack. On the way down I picked up an old tennis show and tossed it at the thing out of frustration. About ten seconds later, as I was cracking a couple eggs, I heard two tennis shoes hit the floor up in the loft. It only served to piss me off.

After eating I decided to head into town for a few supplies. I didn’t really need much but that damn blue thing upstairs was just enough to annoy me to the point that I couldn’t ignore it, and therefore couldn’t write anything. Why not go into town? I went upstairs and put on some clothes including my sneakers, of which I had two right feet. I put one on and tossed the other into the trashcan by my desk.

Yadda Yadda, I spent a few hours in town, etc. etc., on the way back to the cabin my right sneaker, now on the gas pedal, felt “spongy.” As soon as I noticed it I looked down at my foot. Everything looked right, but now it seemed that I could “feel” the gas pedal under my right foot – right through the sneaker. I pulled over by the side of the road and got out of the truck to inspect my feet. The right sneaker was disappearing! It was just fading away. One moment it looked normal, the next moment it started to dissolve, felt squishy, and I could see my foot inside it, then within a minute of the beginning of the effect it was over, and I was bare-foot.

“Great.” I said disgusted, speaking again to the entity using me as a lab rat. “So whatever gets duplicated disappears in a few hours? What good is that?” I got back into the pickup and headed up the mountain to my cabin. When I got there I looked upstairs for the other shoe. It was in the trash by my computer. I pulled it out and felt it. It seemed solid. I sat down to think this out.

So far I had figured out that when you throw things into it they get duplicated, but the duplicate only lasts a few hours. Hmmm. I decided to experiment. OK, I’m a lab rat. I still wouldn’t write a story about it in a million years, but what could be the harm in killing a little time playing with the thing. I got out some paper and started taking notes.

4:33 Tossed in a sneaker, wait ten seconds, two came out.

4:35 Tossed in a T-shirt, wait ten seconds, two came out.

4:36 Tossed in a dollar bill, wait ten seconds, two came out.

(Note: same serial number)

Then I thought about something. What would happen to something alive? I saw a fly in the window buzzing around. After a few attempts I caught it and put it in a jar, still alive. Then I rolled the jar into the blue thing.

4:42 Rolled in the fly, wait ten seconds, two rolled out.

Both flys buzzed around inside their respective jars. Hmmmm. I gathered up my experiments (Yes, and feeling pretty stupid but what the heck,) and took them over to my computer desk as the other end of the loft. Then I sat down to do some writing.

Yah, right. I just stared at the blank screen for about half an hour then decided to watch a little TV while I waited what I figured would be about five hours to see what would happen. To be sure I caught the effect I put on the sneaker and the t-shirt, then set the dollar bill and the flys in the jars on top of the TV.

9:32 The sneaker on my foot started “thinning out,” that’s the only way I could describe it.

9:33 The sneaker is gone

9:34 The t-shirt is starting to disappear, right on schedule I thought.

9:35 T-shirt gone, Dollar bill fading.

I picked up the jar with the fly in it and set it next to the “original” fly in a jar, and I watched.

9:41 The duplicate fly didn’t stir. I shook the jar and he flew around a little. OK, he was still alive. I looked closely at him. In a period of about 15 seconds he got kind of transparent, then quickly “dissolved” into thin air along with the jar he was in. At the same time I observed the original fly, and at the moment the duplicate disappeared, he kind of zipped around his jar, but then landed again and it seemed that nothing had happened. I unscrewed the top of the jar and he flew back to the window and continued buzzing around. Hmmmm.

So live animals, at least insects, aren’t harmed by this effect?

I looked over to where my cat was sleeping in his favorite chair.

 

***

 

It’s amazing how fast a log cabin can be built when you’ve got help. I get up around noon, jump into the unit ten or twenty times, and ten minutes later a bunch of me’s are headed out to work. We never know which one it is. After a “cycle” all the memories of all the copies just becomes part of my own memory. It’s as though I am them. I guess that makes sense. The coolest part of it is how well we all get along…every time! We all do a five-hour shift, but sometimes we break for an hour or so and I talk to, well, myselves, about what is going on in our, my, their heads. They, um, I, all have the same memories, even up to the day before. They say that it’s a strange feeling to find out at the end of the day that they are not the one. They understand that it’s a five hour existence. They…don’t mind. It’s like I, we, they, we all see the advantages to it. There’s no down side.

The “Giggler,” if you will, is that just before the five hours is up, I blow a whistle and we all get together in a circle to watch each other fade out. One at a time they disappear at the speed I originally stepped into and out of the blue thing. The fade-out takes no more then 30 seconds. As each disappears their memories are added to my own, and each time I get a buzz.

 

This weekend I’ve invited up a little cutie from town.

 

***

 

Author's Note

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