Kev (6 page)

Someone knocked on the door. I figured it was
the police, coming to question me further, probably not satisfied
with asking me at least a hundred times if I had killed Clive, and
interested in asking me that question at least a hundred more
times.

I opened the door and saw a five-foot tall,
pale blue alien with a lipless mouth and bright orange eyes, a
cigarette dangling from its mouth, and a small, metal briefcase in
one hand.

“Well, are you going to let me in or what?”
said the alien.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, moving out of the
way.

The alien entered my house and looked around.
“Nice place. Did you decorate it yourself?”

I didn’t answer. The alien sat on the
bloodstained couch, placed its briefcase on the coffee table, and
opened it. Inside I saw a single blue cube, which it took out and
placed on the table.

“What is that?” I said.

“An object.”

“What does it do?”

“Things. Look, I don’t have a lot of time. I
have a date tonight,” said the alien, getting up.

I stared at it and it stared right back at
me. “What are you?” I said.

“I’m a Canadian,” said the alien. “Not a
North American Canadian, a real Canadian. Now, if you don’t mind, I
have needs, and those needs aren’t going to be met if I stay here
answering stupid questions.” With that, the alien departed.

I looked at the cube, remembering something
about a blue cube, something important, but I couldn’t fully recall
it.

I still had bits of flesh all over me, so I
took a shower and got into some new clothes. After that, I went to
the bar, thinking more than a few drinks were in order, thinking
this might be a dream, a horrible, detailed dream.

The next morning, the coroner called and told
me that Clive’s cause of death was definitely possibly unknown and
hung up.

Clive’s mother had died when she heard the
news, or so I had heard from a mysterious caller who sounded like
Clive, right after the coroner called. I wondered who had told
Clive’s mother about his death, knowing full well that I did not
ever have in my possession her contact information. I remember
thinking it rather odd that I had never met either of Clive’s
parents, but then lost that train of thought and in the process
forgot a number of things, which I would not until much later
remember I forgot. That was pretty typical for me, of course, so I
thought nothing of it, primarily because I didn’t remember that
there was anything to think much of. I think you understand.

Clive had no other family, so I invited some
of our friends from college up for a small ceremony. After the
ceremony, we all went to the bar, where, at first, I forgot that I
had been the one to invite them to Vermont, and then completely
forgot who they were.

I spent most of the time with them trying to
remember names and faces, although I did manage to stay in the
conversation in some odd way. They all knew I had serious memory
problems, and had some laughs at my expense, but it was all in good
fun. Most of the time, they talked about the crazy things Clive had
done in college. Clive liked playing pranks on people and had
pranked most of the guys that had come up for the ceremony.

At one point, Bill Peterson, one of the guys
Clive had tormented most during our time at MIT, a good natured guy
who never took offense to some of the more ridiculous things Clive
did to him, things I had long forgotten, took me aside and said,
“So, Kev, does any of this seem like déjà vu to you?”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“I don’t know. Don’t you feel like this might
have happened before?”

“What might have happened before?” I
said.

“You know, Clive exploding and all that,”
said Bill.

“Clive exploded?” I cried. I had completely
forgotten.

“Never mind, Kev. Forget I said
anything.”

“Wait a second. Did you say Clive
exploded?”

“Nah, I didn’t say that. No worries. I’m sure
Clive is just fine, wherever he is.”

“Do you know where he is?” I said,
remembering Clive, but totally unaware of where he might be. Hadn’t
he been the one to invite the guys up for a visit? Where was
he?

In that moment, I remembered the horror of
witnessing Clive’s death. Bill and the others did their best to
comfort me, each of them saying things like, “Don’t worry, Kev.
Clive is fine,” and “Maybe Clive will come back from the dead, Kev.
You never know.” None of this really sunk in, of course.

After they departed I returned home, and for
the first time in days, checked for messages on my communications
device. I had more than I could count, but one stood out.

“Sorry about Clive,” it read. “Hope you are
okay.”

I responded, “Who are you?” No response.

Three days later, two hundred thousand, nine
hundred, ninety-nine people across the globe exploded.

Five days after that, scientists in Norway
found microscopic rectangles in the remains of one of the victims.
Imprinted on the rectangles were the words, “Made in Canada, you
infidel pigs!”

Not long after, the same scientists found
trace amounts of radioactive particles in the remains of that same
victim. Then the word “pnuke” emerged in the media.

A pnuke is a personnel nuke. Millions of
these devices had been deployed into the bodies of the victims and
detonated. The scientists believed they had been constructed by
nano-bots, although they had not been able to find any nano-bots in
the remains.

The world turned its eyes toward Canada.
Canada’s response was simply, “It could have been worse, you
hosers.”

The world responded swiftly, condemning the
Canadians. Sanctions were put in place, and US troops started
massing on the US, Canadian border.

I wasn’t so sure the Canadians had done this,
although I had to admit, they probably didn’t love Clive. After
all, he had written terrible things about them and had wreaked
havoc on their computers and networks. What if they knew about the
viruses? That could have been cause to go after him.

Still, something didn’t add up. Why would the
Canadians leave those little rectangles behind? Why would they
announce their involvement?

Clive’s death really pissed me off, and I had
little faith in the people investigating the matter, people I
believed were more interested in the technology behind the pnukes
than in capturing those who were responsible for this atrocity, so
I took things into my own hands. I wrote a virus that when deployed
would search through files on host computers and send back files
that contained certain keywords. Using a wide variety of illegal
methods, I deployed the virus and waited for information to come
in.

At first, I received too much information, so
I modified the virus and redeployed it. The new information proved
much better and I soon found an email originating from Barrow,
Alaska, to some guy named Doug in Toronto. It read, “Doug, Great
first test of the nano-technology. Pnukes (I love that word) appear
to be effective. I just want to say, I heard Bob say we should kill
everyone, and I have to say, that was not the deal. Three million
must remain for the plan to work. I don’t want to have to pull the
plug on this operation, but I will if Bob doesn’t get his head on
straight. Aputi.”

I looked up the name Aputi, an Inuit name. I
then identified the location of the computer from which the email
originated. I believed this Aputi character was the one I was
after. Not long after, I saw a response from Doug, “Aputi, don’t
worry about Bob. He’s a hoser. Three million will be spared, as
agreed, but Bob and I don’t want to be in that list. Doug.”

Aputi wrote back, “Yeah, I know. I don’t care
if you guys kill yourselves. Just save three million.”

I considered going to the authorities, but
thought that would land me in a heap of trouble, given my highly
illegal activities. However, if I could get more evidence, maybe
the authorities would forgive me for my transgressions.

I deployed new viruses to Aputi and Doug’s
computers and waited. After a few hours, I had the entire contents
of their hard drives. I found the plans for the nano-bots and the
pnukes. I also found the list of the three million people who would
be spared. My name was not on that list. Then, I found something
that startled me, a file with my name, Kev_Pryce.txt. I opened the
file and read it. “Kev, we should talk. Come to Barrow, Alaska.
Meet me at Singularity Bar. Aputi.”

I traveled to Barrow, and, as instructed,
went to Singularity Bar, a strange dive with an otherworldly vibe.
When I arrived I was the only one in the bar, so I sat on a stool
and waited. A woman (she might have been an alien) came out from
the back and said, “What are you having?”

“I don’t know. A beer, I guess.”

“You look like you need a green tea,” she
(it) said.

“No, thanks, a beer is fine.”

“Suit yourself.”

Green tea stirred a memory, but one I
couldn’t recover.

“Do you know Aputi?” I said, as the bartender
placed a pint of beer on the bar in front of me.

“Yeah, he’s sitting right behind you.”

I turned around and saw an old, wrinkled man
wearing a parka, shorts, and flip-flops, sitting at a small table.
He looked up at me and motioned for me to sit with him.

I sat down across from him and said, “Why are
you going to kill everyone on this planet?”

“Settle down, Kev. Actually, can I call you
Kevin? Kev is such a stupid name. Were your parents mentally
challenged?”

“My name is Kev,” I said, more than a little
annoyed.

“Whatever. Look, before you assume the worst,
hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“The universe is going to end if I don’t save
it.”

“Really?” I said skeptically, although part
of me accepted this.

“Really. The only way to save it is to get
rid of most of humanity, then get rid of all of the things humanity
has created and re-engineer the minds of the ones who remain. Those
re-engineered humans will save the universe.”

“You know that is the most ridiculous thing
I’ve ever heard. What does killing billions of people and wiping
out all traces of civilization have to do with saving the
universe?”

“It has everything to do with saving the
universe, lad.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said.

“Well, you don’t have much choice. There is
nothing you can do to stop me. Further, if you don’t help me, you
won’t be on the list of people to be saved and re-engineered.”

“I could go to the authorities right now. I
have enough evidence to bury you.”

“Kev, all of the nano-bots are already
deployed. All I have to do is press the button on this cube five
times and everyone other than those three million who will be
re-engineered will die, including you,” said Aputi, showing me a
little brown cube with a yellow button.

“I don’t believe you,” I said.

“Tell you what, Kev. I can tap the button
twice and another three hundred thousand will die, if you need me
to prove my point. Maybe you will be one of those three hundred
thousand. Who knows? I don’t keep track of these things.”

“Well, it sounds like you don’t need me if
you can already kill off most of humanity.”

“But, I do need you. You see, Kev, I need
something, something that will allow me to re-engineer your minds.
It’s a little yellow cube. Only you can find it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll still kill pretty much everyone.”

“Yeah, but you won’t save the universe,” I
said, wondering if that would make any difference to this deranged
man.

Aputi paused before saying, “You are wrong. I
can find it without you, but it will take much longer than it would
take for you to find it. Of course, the universe will expire in
about three years, so hopefully I can find it before then.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Do you want to live?”

“Isn’t there another way?” I said.

“Well, you could prevent the destruction of
the universe, but you clearly don’t know how to do that or you
would have done it already.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Kev, you have some serious memory problems,
and those memory problems could get us all killed. I have found a
way around your memory problems and I can save the universe, but
you have to help me.”

“So, I have to help you kill billions of
people?”

“It is for the greater good, Kev. You’re a
utilitarian kind of guy, aren’t you?”

“What do you need me to do?”

“You need to bring me the yellow cube.”

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, how am I supposed to find it?”

“You have to find the girl.”

“What girl?”

“How should I know? All I know is that you
can find her.”

“You’re not human, are you?” I said.

“Absolutely not. I am a Bladrithian, a shape
changer.”

“Oh yeah, well why don’t you change into a
hot blonde?”

“Look, you shit-nosed punk. Are you going to
help me or are you going to die?” Aputi briefly changed into a
gorgeous blonde, wearing a red cocktail dress and a string of
pearls.

I agreed to help Aputi, but only to buy time
while I tried to save humanity and possibly the universe, if his
claim was true. He agreed to hold off on killing more people before
I found the cube.

By the time I got back home, I had forgotten
everything that had anything to do with Aputi or the pnukes. I
remembered Clive’s death, however, and I remembered my
communications device. Further, I remembered the plans for the
black cube. I knew I needed it for something, but didn’t know what.
Of course, had I remembered Aputi, I would have known that I needed
the black cube to go back in time and stop him.