Off to Be the Wizard (31 page)

“What an eloquent way to sum up your world view.”

Jimmy said, “Thank you,” and launched Giant Jimmy at Martin again. This time, since Giant Martin was hunkered down in a crouch, Jimmy swung his giant staff at him like a hockey stick. Martin sprung into the air. Giant Martin mimicked the movements of Martin’s actual limbs on a much larger scale, and in the process multiplied the forces involved. Since the only parts of Giant Martin that had mass were the hands, feet, staff, and Martin’s comparatively tiny real body suspended inside Giant Martin’s torso, that meant that a leap that would make Martin fly two feet into the air sent Giant Martin rocketing into the gold plated rafters of the great hall. He tried to grab the rafters, but only managed to give himself an awkward spin as he fell back to the floor a hundred feet below. He landed on his side, then struggled to regain his footing. Giant Jimmy was again standing at the throne end of the hall, bobbing lightly with bent knees, the way actors do when they are playing a ninja. Martin could hear the people watching laughing at him.

“That was not meant as a compliment,” Martin said.

“The best compliments seldom are,” Jimmy replied.

“You lied to me, Jimmy. When you asked me to join you, you said you wanted to make a better future.”

“And who’s to say I haven’t?”

“The Orcs!”

Jimmy laughed. “That’s just silly! The Orcs don’t talk, or at least they won’t when they’re finished.”

Martin righted himself and faced Jimmy, ready for the next attack.

“You really don’t get it,” Jimmy said, as if he was only now understanding Martin’s confusion. “Martin, nothing we do affects the future at all. We’ve proven that. Not only is there no reason not to change things, knowing what we know, it’s our moral
duty
to change things. I talked the king into ordering people to boil their water and to not eat spoiled food. I got slavery outlawed. You don’t hear Phillip complaining about that, do you? Sure, the Hobbits and the Elves are a bit silly, but if we’re going to improve the world, why shouldn’t we have fun doing it? Think of the possibilities! I plan to put an end to the Crusades. Then I’ll prevent the Inquisition. Imagine a Renaissance where someone with unlimited funds lets Da Vinci build whatever he wants. Where Michelangelo is never without a commission. What if, when the new world was discovered, the Native Americans had horses and guns? Let’s find out! Picture World War One with armored blimps! What if Adolf Hitler’s parents had an unfortunate accident, and he got adopted by a nice Jewish family? I have seen the future, Martin, and it’s a better past!”

After a moment’s thought, Martin said, “Jimmy, I won’t be a part of this!”

Jimmy said, “And you’ve convinced me that you shouldn’t. Well done,” and hurled Giant Jimmy at Giant Martin with all of his strength. Giant Martin was standing flat footed in the middle of the hall, holding his staff at waist height with both hands. Jimmy was aiming high this time, and it was clear to everyone that Martin would not be able to dodge. Jimmy’s aim was spot on, and Giant Jimmy’s left fist flew with staggering force into Giant Martin’s face. Since Jimmy had forgotten what he was doing, and punched one of the many parts of Giant Martin that had no mass, his fist streaked through Giant Martin’s head as if he had punched a cloud of smoke. Martin, meanwhile, reversed his right hand’s grip on the staff, took a single step backward with his left foot, and as Giant Jimmy flew past, Martin swung the giant staff, the bust of Santo on the end acting as a counterweight, and struck real Jimmy in the small of the back. The blow added a substantial amount of momentum to Jimmy’s already out-of-control trajectory, sending him screaming and flying toward the entry hall. Spectators dove to the side as Giant Jimmy skidded and tumbled through the antechamber and back out into the courtyard.

Martin said, “I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement.” He pointed his staff forward, and Giant Martin flew out of the great hall.

The streets of Leadchurch were not particularly full, but still, the sight of a white Pontiac Fiero tearing through at speeds of up to forty miles per hour had caused a great many people to scream, then dodge, then scream again.

Inside the car, Phillip looked like a kid in a candy store, and Gwen sounded like a mother who didn’t want to buy any candy.

“What in the world? Why is the music so loud?” she asked.

“It isn’t!” Phillip explained, cranking on the wheel. “It seems loud because the speakers are built into the headrests! Isn’t it awesome?”

“It might be if you were playing something good,” Gwen said, gripping the dashboard for dear life.

Phillip steered the car sideways through a sliding turn while explaining, “That’s
Genesis
! It’s called ‘
That’s All’
! It’s a song of love and loss and a relationship turned sour!”

“Does Phil Collins write songs about anything else?”

“He doesn’t have to. He’s so good at writing that, to do anything else would be a waste of talent! It’s a great song! In the video the whole band was dressed up like bums.”

As a chicken bounced off of the windshield, Gwen asked, “Why? What do bums have to do with this song?”

“You know,” Phillip said while the car skidded to a stop in front of his home, “I’m not sure.” The car had scarcely stopped before Phillip threw the door open and ran into his house, taking his staff, which had lain across both of their laps and out of Gwen’s window.

Gwen followed, taking the time to look around at the frightened villagers, eyeing the Fiero like it was a vicious beast, which they probably thought it was. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It can’t hurt you.” She remembered Phillip’s driving, then added, “When it’s still. It can’t hurt you when it’s still. If you see it moving, run and hide.”

Gwen entered Phillip’s home and found him hastily untying the knots that fastened a heavy canvas hammock suspended in the corner. “What are you doing?” she asked.

One end of the hammock came loose and fell to the floor. Phillip lunged to the other end and started to work on the knots, mumbling, “Martin’s been using this tarpaulin as a hammock, but I need it now.” A few seconds later, the hammock was no more, and Phillip had a tarp tucked under his arm. He scurried over to a trunk that sat in the corner near the cold fireplace. He rummaged furiously, let out a triumphant shout, and came up with a coil of rope.

“All right,” he said. “We’re ready to go!”

“Where are we going?” Gwen asked.

Phillip squinted, set his jaw, pointed to a door that was not the entrance and said, “To the bathroom.”

Gwen grimaced, and said, “Ewwwww.”

Giant Jimmy ground to a stop in the front courtyard of the castle Camelot after tumbling through the entry arch and sliding for some distance. He had just enough time to get up on all fours before Martin was on him again. Jimmy had demonstrated that the giant forms flew more gracefully than they walked. It was a lesson Martin took to heart.

Giant Martin barreled out of the castle skimming the ground, and grabbed Jimmy with his free hand as he passed. As Jimmy left the ground, Giant Jimmy went with him, mimicking every move Jimmy made. Martin shot up at a forty-five degree angle. Almost instantly they reached an altitude of a hundred feet, and Martin employed the first maneuver he had learned, albeit by accident. He pulled his staff arm inward, as if to shield his face. The staff’s air speed dropped to nothing, then to full reverse, as it had the day he learned to fly. Again, Martin’s body cracked like a whip. This time he kept his grip on the staff, but he deliberately let go of Jimmy. Giant Martin hung in space from his hovering staff and watched as Giant Jimmy splatted against the inside surface of Camelot’s golden wall, then slowly slid down to the ground.

Martin adjusted his pose to look a little more heroic and floated, waiting, while Giant Jimmy groaned and rolled on the ground, stunned. Jimmy crawled over and sat heavily on the ground, his back resting against the wall. Clearly, hitting the wall had knocked the fight out of him. Martin looked around. The tops of the walls were lined with the soldiers enjoying the best view in the house. The gate held back a sizeable crowd, not that any of them had any interest in getting closer. Martin felt a small pang of sympathy for his adversary. Jimmy wanted to be important, and who couldn’t relate to that? Jimmy was learning the hard lesson that the things we do to make ourselves feel big end up making us look small.

Giant Martin drifted in closer. “Had enough, Merlin?”

Giant Jimmy’s shoulders sagged. Jimmy laughed. “Yeah. I’ve had enough.”

“Good. Let’s go inside and wait for the others.”

Giant Jimmy’s hand slowly went up. Jimmy said, “In a second. There’s just one thing I want to do.” He made a fist and thrust it toward Martin, shouting “
Ŝ
raŭbo vi!” Something, a force field, a shock wave, a wrecking ball,
something
hit Martin with tremendous force. As he flew helplessly through the air, he was dimly aware that Giant Martin had dissipated. His body hit the wall of the castle just above the entry arch and fell to the ground below. As he rolled on the ground, struggling to catch his breath, he saw the blue mass of glowing orbs that formed Giant Jimmy closing on him fast. He felt the giant hand close around him, and then he was streaking across the courtyard again, hitting the far wall and falling to the ground.

“Such a waste,” Jimmy said as he rushed toward Martin again. Martin was lifted and thrown again too quickly for his brain to process the sensations. As he sailed through the air, hit the castle wall, and fell to the cobblestones below, he heard Jimmy still talking.

“And now you learn the central truth of your friend Phillip’s life. He never really does anything.” Then Martin was streaking through the air, into the wall and down to the ground again. “He watches,” Jimmy continued, “while other people do things and he complains about it. Sure, he felt just as strongly as you did that I needed to be stopped.” Martin was flung across the courtyard again. He was getting to where he was hardly aware of it. “But you’re the one here getting used as a racquetball, and where is he? Somewhere far away, probably saying something snide.” Jimmy threw Martin again, with extra force this time, as if he were throwing Phillip … at Phillip. “He’s perfectly happy to let others take all of the risks, but he resents anyone who claims the rewards.”

Martin lay, a crumpled mess on the ground. He was stunned and in great pain, but some part of his brain knew that he was not injured. Giant Martin was gone, but his invulnerability remained. Perhaps other things still worked. He lifted his staff into the air and said, “Flugi.” A different part of his brain was not at all surprised when nothing happened.

Giant Jimmy stood over Martin, giving him time to realize just how doomed he was. Martin employed the only means of escape his brain could provide in its current state. He crawled.

Martin scarcely noticed when Jimmy deactivated Giant Jimmy, landing lightly on the ground next to Martin, who continued crawling, his head slowly clearing, while Jimmy followed.

Jimmy explained in a calm voice, “While your friends have spent the last few years sewing robes, building cars, and making their homes look like Ozzy Osborne album covers, I’ve spent my free time creating shell commands that only I can access.”

Martin continued crawling and groaned. “You all agreed that you wouldn’t do that.”

“Which is often your first hint that you should do something.”

Jimmy followed silently, watching Martin crawl, and said, “It’s just so sad.”

Martin asked, “What is?” Martin ran into something. He looked up. He had crawled directly into the stone rim of the pool that surrounded the golden statue of the old king, the young king, and Jimmy. Every part of Martin that he could feel, hurt. He flopped over and sagged onto the ground, leaning against the rim of the pool.

Jimmy looked down at him. “Martin, you’ve thrown your life away. You must see that! There’s no way this can end well for you, and what did you do it for? Nothing!”

“Some things are just wrong, Jimmy.”

“Yes, and destroying yourself for no good reason is one of them!”

Martin shook his head. “Jimmy, you killed a town. A town, Jimmy, dead. You did that! For what? Because you like Tolkien? Your Hobbits died, your Orcs are in constant pain. God knows how the Elves are doing.”

“They’re fine.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. Jimmy, you’ve killed or injured hundreds of innocent people! That’s why I came here, and that’s not nothing!”

Jimmy replied, “Yes it is, Martin. Yes it is! Look around you!” Jimmy gestured toward the crowd beyond the gate and the soldiers watching from the top of the parapets. They still had a large audience. Their now non-amplified voices could not be heard from the distances involved, but they were still in plain sight. Martin and Jimmy were having a private conversation in front of a massive audience.

“Look at them, Martin. They don’t know the truth, but you and I do. They aren’t real. They aren’t people. They’re lines of code. They’re information, and not very much of it. They’re algorithms, created automatically by another algorithm to accomplish who knows what for we don’t know who! What could be more unimportant? What could be more insubstantial? They’re not real, and nothing done by them or to them could possibly make any difference.”

“They’re just as real as you are,” Martin spat.