kaolin fire presents :: writing :: fiction

"Bob_4.0"

words

Through the woods... Through the woods? Death. Bob? I am Bob. i am Bob? eye am boB. 'allo bOb. Through the woods fer sure. am bob.

Bob opened his eyes, and floated outside.*1* Jubilant to have defeated the evil space aliens and not too unhapy about confirming his identity, Bob surveyed the scene before him.

Powdered buttermilk lay all around. Nothing stirred. No air movement. No pedestrian movement. No roadway movement. No cognisational movement. Blank mind and blanketed earth, complete and fulfilled by white noise in each case.

Bob sat.

Bob sat.

Slowly, thoughts began to spring back into existance.

Bob pondered the significance of such activity, or the lack thereof.

_Whyforistherenopersons? Whereforhowforiseveryone? Oh. Wait. Time now is for celebration. Must needs be celebration. Why, I ask? Why? I tell myself: "I am now Bob! I have become Bob!"_

Bob screamed out to the world at large: "Bobdom has been achieved!"

Thoughts scurried. Questions questioned and raised more... turnips. Slowly, Bob began to realise that his was not the only voice he heard inside his head. At first he didn't believe his own thoughts. Could he be deceiving himself? No. He was quite certain that he had other selves. Perhaps it was one of them that was deceiving him? Bob set out to count the selves that now co-inhabited his mind and learn a bit about them.

_Hello...? Hello... yes you, the blue one... Umm... I'm Bob. This is my mind... was wondering... well.... Nice weather out, dontcha think? Now now, don't be shy... I don't bite... Oh, yes, rule for all you here. No bloodshed in my mind.... makes for a rather bad mess of all the thoughts floating round. Yes, now, umm. Blue... what did you say your name was? Ah. Bob. Pleasant meeting you. Feel free to use the facilities, although please do not attempt to overtake the cortex... I'd rather keep this unit somehwat cohesive and under original ownership.

Ah, and you? The red one in the corner. How fare thee? What are your thoughts on Buttermilk? What would you say the top ten ways to save a planet would be, and if you had to be buttermilk, what flavour would you be? Did I say something to offend you? Do you understand english? Ah. Does anyone here speak... sounds... *achoo* Hrm, haven't used parts of this mind for some time I see. Does anyone here speak Gezhundheit? Oh, okay, I see. And your name is? Bob. Brilliant. Could you interpret between this red being and myself? Ah, thank you. Could you inquire as to his name, nature, demanor, hit points, experience, and armor class? Oh. You don't know what those are. Very well. His name is Bob. Thank you. I believe I'm beginning to understand something the narrator mentioned back when I was visiting the troposphere. No, had nothing to do with buttermilk, amazingly. Oh well, have fun, I've found it quite an enjoyable mind to use over the last... well... lifetime and then some, I suppose._

Bob slowly categorized each of the minds occupying his umm.... mind. It seemed that 99.99% of the cohabitants were named Bob. Everyone turned to the meek little intellect slowly edging its to the back. It mumbled apologetically, saying that well, it's friends called it Bob, but well, it's real name was Russ. He was a mathematics major that had been going to Berkeley when the nuclear missiles hit. This last statement gave Bob (the main Bob) pause.

"What are you saying? Has someone attacked us? Are the space aliens still alive and plotting to get us?"

"I doubt anything could be alive after that. *mumble mumble* things just *mumble mumble* You see? There just isn't much statistical chance of it."

"Are the space aliens going to get us? We have to mobilize against the space aliens! We will swarm their home planet and make certain that they can no longer threaten our world! I am Bob and I command all of you to follow me on this! Russ: would you care to join us as an advisor? You seem to have a handle on the situation. Just please don't try to mingle too much with the Bobs... we're rather individualistic."

"*mumble mumble* why I *mumble* crazy *mumble mumble* this is your mind *mumble mumble* so I suppose *mumble mumble*"

"Ah, good. Everyone now, just sort of concentrate, well, hrm. Does anyone know where the space alien invasion came from?" Silence greeted him.

Silence has a very firm handshake you see. Silence's grip is often enduring and quite enthusiastic. He's rather sure of himself and is often accompanied by Fidgeting, who's a sidekick of sorts. However, he charges a lot for his services as participant in major gatherings. He never deigns to attend speed metal concerts, although he oftimes peruses the opera scene. He's actually quite fond of academic labs, at least when cold fusion is not being discussed. Mental gatherings were usually exempt from Silence's presence, but this was a special occassion. The death of a planet generally is.

Bob reiterated the question, thinking that perhaps he had simply been misunderstood. Or maybe he was just drawn that way. When noone was forthcoming, he looked to the blue Bob for help. The blue Bob looked away uncertainly. Bob decided to retract his question. "It wasn't worth the thoughts really. I'm sure we can think of a simple way to find the evil space aliens."

Russ mumbled something under his breath*2*. And Bob had a brilliant jump of inductive logic. Space aliens always had a fatal flaw, something that gave them away, something that told the good guys exactly what was going on and how to stop it. He thought back to when he had spoken with the troposphere and first viewed the terrifying swarms of evil space aliens. They had had a definite grouping pattern. If he squinted his mind's mind's-eye, it he could make the alien blots look rather like a poodle. Or a butterfly. Poodle... Canus... canus... butterflies were rather small... Canus minor! He knew where the evil space aliens came from!

"Let's go get those filthy dogs! Those mongrel curs! Those... those... those... those evil space alien thingies!" Immediately, Bob's mind elevated itself and slowly traveled upwards, sending a passing salute to the troposphere as Bob braced for impact with space. Actually, he was rather looking forward to the depressurization of space. It would be, in effect, a load off of his mind. He could use the time to wind down. And also an added bonus was the fact that the more he dispersed, the less dense he would be, and the higher the speed he could attain.

Bob and entourage were well on their way to Canus Minor. They had made sure to take a left at Albequerque and were heading off into the sunset. Actually, they had passed several very beautiful Eclipses, and even a Porsche. Space flight was what Bobs were destined for, they were sure. They passed the time playing cribbage, bones, and dragon poker. The rules for dragon poker were rather more difficult than usual due to spacial orientation and every few hands or so they drew up a new horoscope for the area they were passing.

Eventually they came to their destination. Although most were expecting this, Russ for one was quite amazed. He was rather skeptical as to whether they'd actually found Canus Minor, the presence of evil space aliens made this a rather moot point.*3* Bob floated down to the single populated city, amazed at the likeness to earth of the entire place. Most horrificly, the aliens were humanoid in stance, shape, size, flavour of breath, and choice of underwear. And they had *FRANK* on their nametags. All of them. All of them had name tags. And all of them were named Frank.

Bob drifted to a randomly industrious Frank.

"Take me to your leader."

"What? What? Hey, Frank, did you hear something?" Another Frank looked at him weirdly.

"No, not really. Why, voices in your head again?"

"Yeah, I suppose. Think I should report it to the Boss?"

"You know the rules...."

"Yeah, yeah. Kay. Can you handle this spot weld for me?"

"Sure no problem, just leave the deuterium on the side."

Bob was looking at the first Frank in wonderment. THESE were the terribly efficient evil space aliens that were going to take over his world? There must be some supreme mastermind, a tyrant, a power, a supreme dictator of this free world in existance. More than ever, he wished to meet it, and stop its nefarious plans. He sat around, wondering what was going to happen, pondering how to contac tthis supreme "overmind."

Minutes passed into half-hours. Lots of them. Enough to fill a half empty glass. If it were half-full. On tuesdays. But it's definitely a tuesday somewhere. The glass slowly filled. Every once-in-a-while, Bob despondantly drained it in a quick gulp, feeling the invigorating handle of time flow through his mind. At this stage, he still needed pot-holders, but he was beginning to get the coat-hanger of it.

Bob closed his eyes in order to think more clearly. He failed to think of anything startlign although he realised finally that he had misnumbered his address book and that that was the reason his parents had felt neglected. When he "opened" his eyes, he realised he was in a different area than he had originally landed in. It was empty. Sparse. Dark. Smart. Draining. Very draining. In fact he noticed that his cohabiting Bobs were slowly being drained from his mind.

"Wha? Wha? Uhm. Help? Umm. Whafuck???"

"I am Bob. I am THE Bob. I am the BOB. I AM the bob. I am all bobs. You shall be mine, neighbor. I am Bob of Bob; you will be rounded to the nearest whole number." At this point, Bob began to panic. He was up against Bob! There was nothing he could do! He faught frantically against giving in against succumbing to the mind-encompassing powers of THE BOB... slowly he felt the last remnants of his cohabitants be sucked into THE BOB like slimer into a ghost-vac. Even Russ, the non-bob, was slowly dragged in to the fray. And that was when Bob realised THE BOB's mistake. He ran. Fast.



"OHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHITI'mGonnaDieI'mGonna DieI'mGonnaDieI'mGonnaDieI'mGonnaDieI'mGonnaDieI'mGonnaDieI'mGonnaDie" Bob fled as THE BOB tried to assimilate Russ into his collective. Time warped strangely as transexial transylvanians waltzed on tiled floors of silver and palladium and held serious discussions on the production of neutrons and tritum when put under a microscope.

The Universe Exploded.

-------------------------------------------------------- 1:It is easy to relapse into the nomenclature of mortality even when past such mundane concerns. 2:a)This is the usual way for people to mumble things. b)This is also Russ's modus operandi. Go figure. I'm sure you hadn't noticed. 3:They'd found the aliens, who cared whether their assumption as to location and ability to navigate was.