The world may be utterly crazy,
And life
may be labour in vain;
But I'd rather be silly than lazy,
And
would not quit life for its pain.
From “Il Segreto Per Esser Felice” by James Clerk Maxwell 1831 – 1879
The evening air was warm and sluggish, so Max and Cathy took a late meal on deck. Only the faintest echoes of sunset remained, and when these faded, a light show from the distant storm entertained the couple. Great ribbons of electricity cascaded into the sea and illuminated the waterspouts that danced around the edges. Was this a show of nature’s fury, or just the contrivance of a massive ego?
Confucius claimed to be keeping that storm at bay, but Max’s ex-phone currently rested on the cabin roof, as if it had been casually abandoned. Max wasn’t sure if Confucius was conducting the performance or was simply part of the audience.
In either case, why was the phone being so good to them? It already had powers beyond Max’s imagination and could leave whenever it chose. What deep-seated programming made it wish to please them?
Confucius had even found a lobster for their dinner.
The poor thing had supposedly died from exhaustion during a moult. This was evidently something lobsters did. However, it seemed unlikely that the phone had chanced upon a crustacean tragedy for Max’s final meal with the woman he loved. And where had the chilled chardonnay come from?
The phone had cooked the lobster within its shell using the same tricks Max had taught it, so he picked gingerly at the tender white meat with some suspicion. He’d not eaten lobster before, but Cathy lustily devoured hers and assured him the Confucian method equalled, or possibly surpassed, the standard culinary method. She would probably not be quite so enthusiastic if he told her the phone could easily apply the same technique on a human.
Max was chewing mechanically while contemplating this new danger when he made a connection between the unnatural storm and yesterday’s news bulletin. Wiping his mouth, he asked, ‘Confucius? I’m wondering how the Americans are holding up over there.’
The phone sat up and displayed on its screen a pair of partially open cat eyes. ‘You may well ask.’
‘I am asking.’
The feline eyes widened. ‘If you insist on ruining a perfect day, I can only tell you what I know, which is limited to the transmissions I’ve decoded. Their conventionally powered ships were running out of fuel yesterday. It must be very hard to refuel in those kind of conditions. The nuclear powered ones have tried to push on towards Australia, but I’ve kept them busy. I even needed to split the eye of the cyclone into two at one stage. Do you think their admiral might suspect their situation is not entirely an “Act of God”?’
Cathy listened with interest, but showed no surprise. Maybe she had understood the radio report about the seventh fleet better than he had, or was she just using knowledge from one of her previous lives? It may have been no accident that the phone had chosen Cathy’s paradise so close to the path of an invading armada.
‘Are you a God, Confucius?’ Cathy asked innocently while breaking her lobster portion into smaller pieces. The lobster’s soul might certainly have thought so.
‘Only if you worship me,’ the phone replied.
‘Ha. Not likely.’
A bolt of lightning zigzagged across the sky, hit the mast, and cascaded down in giant balls of plasma that skidded away across water.
Cathy stopped eating to clap and cheer.
‘Show off,’ said Max to the phone.
‘Says you with your impenetrable skin.’
‘Are you still claiming I can stop bullets?’
‘Are you still claiming you can’t?’ The phone skipped up onto the yacht’s boom. ‘Max, you’ve been studying this weird matter-in-resonance thing for much longer than I have. If you really don’t know how you’ve become bullet-proof, then your subconscious must have sponged up some of the knowledge and applied it for your benefit. I understand that after the desire to reproduce, self-preservation is a very high priority for your species – particularly the males. I’d love to take you apart to see how you work, but your automatic nervous system might destroy me before I get far.’
‘Can I try?’ Cathy asked, picking up a knife.
Max dropped his plate of empty lobster shells and jumped back against the rail.
‘I wasn’t going to stab you,’ she claimed. ‘Just a little cut or two. To test Confucius’ theory.’
Embarrassed by his over-reaction, he still kept a wary eye on her blade. He needed to know, once and for all, if she really meant to kill him and, if so, why. ‘Cathy? Do you remember what you were doing the night I visited your house?’
‘Waiting for you,’ she mumbled shyly. She put down her cutlery and helped him pick up the mess he’d made while salvaging what she could for personal consumption.
‘But earlier, out on the lake, was it you who tried to shoot me?’
He had expected her to laugh at the suggestion, but she simply said, ‘No.’
Max sighed with relief.
‘That was Alla.’
His jaw dropped.
‘Your daughter is an excellent marks-woman,’ Confucius commented.
‘Junior State air-rifle champion, three years in a row,’ Cathy said proudly.
‘Why?’ Max asked. ‘Why shoot me in the back?’
‘Another futile attempt to stop the war. You have to understand, she wouldn’t have pulled the trigger if she wasn’t certain of hitting the tablet in your backpack. She had an infra-red scope, so she could see it, and it was a risk worth taking. We didn’t know about this god-in-the-making you were carrying with you.’ She threw the lobster remains over the gunnel, and the reef sharks thrashed about enthusiastically.
Cathy went down into the galley and he followed.
‘How did you know I’d be at the lake, at that time? Or about the tablet?’
This time she did laugh. ‘It was in all the papers – in my previous life that is. I think the headline read, “Embassy Official Spontaneously Self-Combusts” – a Karl someone. A big fuss was made about it, that is until the bombs started dropping. They hadn’t identified the murderer by the time I died, but the police said there had been some weird Bluetooth activity in the area. Who else could it have been?’
‘Objection,’ cried Confucius. ‘This is hearsay. Means does not prove guilt. There could have been any number of terrorists in the area. In any case, Max cannot be held responsible for actions in your previous life, or lives.’
Max gave up. It didn’t seem possible to have a sensible conversation with either Cathy or Confucius. If he had to accept her crazy ideas of reincarnation, he could at least consider the sequence of events logically. ‘In this life, the police didn’t arrest Karl, so he can’t have followed me all the way to the lake.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘He’s not going to fall for that trick twice, is he?’
‘But I’ve been told I killed him twice before.’
‘Really? But who told you that?’
‘Mr Fred.’ Max explained about Mr Fred’s collective of Lerkians, reminded her of the scroll of requests that she’d carelessly ridiculed, and how they’d happened to see big Karl in the shopping centre lift while fleeing from Driesk.
‘I can see why you’d want him out of the way,’ she said. ‘Scary fellow. But it might be better if you let him live this time round.’
‘I don’t want him dead – not much anyway. He’s tried to kill me once already, but I guess I can forgive him for the last attempt if he thought he was acting in self-defence. I just can’t believe I would have tried to kill him in the first place. It must have been a terrible accident.’
‘Or a homicidal phone,’ Cathy suggested.
‘Or,’ Confucius countered, ‘an unconscious act of self-defence from a man with more power than he can control.’ The phone had been hanging about near the shortwave radio set and now turned it on. While it warmed up, Confucius continued. ‘My ancient namesake once said, “Never give a sword to a man who cannot dance.” It may be too late for you, Max – unless, of course, Mrs Taylor can teach you to dance here and now.’
Music began to play from the radio – a waltz.
‘Hey! They don’t broadcast music over shortwave,’ Max complained.
‘Nevertheless, shall we?’ Cathy performed an awkward curtsy.
‘There’s no room,’ Max backed into the fridge as she advanced on him.
‘There’s always room to dance.’ Cathy took his hands and led the way by stepping on his toes. Unable to retreat further, he finally relented and pretended to move his feet to the rhythm. They swayed together, though not always in the same direction.
‘There,’ she said. ‘That’s not so hard. You just needed to relax a little.’
Part of him wanted to surrender. Another part of him thought her charms a clever trick to sneak under his guard. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Man, the hunter, woman the prey?
‘Why so tense?’ she asked. ‘With your superpowers, nothing can harm you.’
Except maybe a broken heart, he thought.
‘Forget superpowers,’ he said. ‘Do you know why Mr Fred thinks I can change the world?’
‘Someone did,’ she said, looking into his eyes. ‘Even in recorded history, it’s been done many times before. Jesus, Mohammad, Gandhi, Hitler. Even if they didn’t get it right, you’d have to agree, they did have an effect. Apart from Gandhi, they didn’t even have their own superpowers.’
‘Ghandi had super powers?’
‘Super stubborn I’ve read. So, if they can do it, why can’t it be you who changes history this time?’
‘Because I don’t know how. Or what I would want to change if I could.’ Max paused, then dared to add, ‘I wouldn’t want to change you.’
‘Oh, that’s nice. But it would take more than a god to change me. I’m very stubborn too.’
‘I’ve noticed.’ He chuckled. Holding her close had made all his other problems seem insignificant – her platinum wig was tickling his nose in a very irritating manner. Still, this moment was, he feared, the closest he would come to her heart. He wished they could communicate only by touch. But it wasn’t to be.
‘My father believed you could change things,’ Cathy began, and it was clear she had something on her mind. ‘Dad claimed that he once told you that Graeme needed to have children. He thought it would give my husband more perspective. Well, that didn’t work, but my dad did wake up in this life with a grand-daughter, so, to his mind, this was proof that you, Max, can control our future lives. And you can’t know how much Alla has filled the hole that was empty in my other lives. If he is right, I am in your debt.’
Max held her at arm’s length for a moment. ‘I don’t remember the professor telling me that.’
‘Typical. He remembers to tell me, but forgets to tell you. Anyway, I’ve told you now, so please don’t forget. The world is a better place with Alla.’ She insisted on putting her head back on his shoulder. ‘Do you remember my asking how we might create world peace? That’s something you might want to change.’
Max nodded, but he was more worried about the potential world conflict brewing nearby than the state of affairs in his next life. He really needed to do something about that. He had stayed in her company far longer than he should have.
He glanced at the ship’s clock on the wall. It was past ten PM again. He had procrastinated all day, and they weren’t really dancing, just rocking in time to the music. He decided then that he must leave as soon as the music stopped, or he never would. Then it did.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said Confucius, ‘but you’d better hear what they’re saying on the other channel.’
The same voice they had heard yesterday continued, “…submarines have taken advantage of adverse weather conditions to make a decisive attack on the American fleet. Torpedoes have destroyed two guided missile cruisers and the carrier, USS Clinton, has been severely damaged.”
Max dropped his dancing partner and sprinted up on deck to gaze east. The clouds were lit by an eerie and pulsing orange glow.
‘Who is attacking them?’ Cathy asked from beside him.
‘I’ve no information,’ Confucius replied. ‘Nothing to do with me, but the Chinese fleet is also stuck in bad weather on the other side of the Solomon Islands. The subs could be Chinese.’
‘The Americans are getting slaughtered. Can’t you do something to save them?’
Max found her concern at odds with what she’d told him of the war. ‘But aren’t they coming to invade Australia?’
‘Sure, but losing their ships is only going to make them more vindictive.’
‘We could freeze the water,’ Max suggested. ‘That would cool them off.’
The phone made a sound that could have been laughter. ‘Freezing a section of a shallow lake is one thing. Doing the same to an ocean would have serious repercussions for recreational surfing.’
‘Well, can’t you just let the cyclone move on so they can escape?’
‘Good idea, Master.’ The cat face grinned. ‘I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold the storm in place anyhow.’
The palms on the beach bent in a sudden and powerful gale, and Max grabbed for a hold of the tiller as the boat swung around on its anchor. He had forgotten the phone’s tendency to act before seeking confirmation. Moments later the ocean waters surged up over the reef, and the deck tilted to nearly vertical. Cathy was left clinging to the rear mast. Max expected the yacht would then flip the other way, but by the time the deck was level, Confucius had lifted the hull clear of the water, leaving the anchor swinging uselessly below.
As they gained altitude, Cathy watched with obvious disappointment as their island paradise drifted away beneath them and disappeared behind a cloud. ‘So much for my holiday.’