SEAN ROBIN HUGHES

The event changed all of our lives.  Not for the better nor for the worse.  But it definitely changed things for everyone.  What caused the event no one really knows, but their are plenty of theories out there.  One popular theory is that God died.  When God died, all the rules of our reality where flushed down the drain. Another popular theory is that one of those large super colliders opened a rift in reality, and all sorts of exotic matter escaped and/or was created.   My favorite theory is that the event was caused by too many people wanting something, desperately believing in one thing.   The world was so bad, that this one thing became the ultimate desire for a dominating majority of the quantum observers in our own little pocket of reality.

Let’s call it the Emerging Observation Theory.

Take a bunch of folks.  Idiots, every single one of them.  Take some more folks, who are smart, but just enjoy dumb things.  Then take some more folks, those that like to criticize the first two groups… you know, your common asshole.  If you were to chart these folks out on a line graph,  you may find that you have a bell shaped curve.  A honest to God standard distribution where 68.5% of the people fall within one standard deviation from the center.  Those 68.5% are all people that actually read books. Then take one author, whose writing is palatable to all those folks, and that author creates a story that everyone can identify with and have a personal and emotional connection with.  Say it was about a little kid who found out he was a wizard, and got to go to a magic boarding school and have all these crazy adventures, saving the world time and time again.  Yay for the little whiny fuckwit, he is so special.  I could be him!

Then some asshole says, hey, let’s turn this into a movie.  No.  Wait.  Seven movies.  And those movies, through another stroke of luck, are all wildly successful.   Those movies suck in another section of people that don’t read, but watch movies.  Now you have 95% of the populace.  95%!  (Including all the other countries and translations.) And all of them want magic to be real.  Desperately.  The world sucks.  This imaginary world is so attractive, so much better than reality, that everyone that can think, observe, and process information wants the fantasy to be the reality.

Boom.

It is.  The universe adjusts to a new shared and observed reality.

But, like anything, the lowest common denominator of the sample is what determines the functionable level of the result.    So instead of spells to make things fly, the spells make people half way across the world fart uncontrollably for a few hours.  Instead of spells to protect you from harm, the best spell out there turns all tangerines in the world blue for exactly twelve seconds.  You craft a potion to make you handsome, it makes your grandma’s nipples grow little afro’s.  Things like that.

Magic is real.  And it is terrible.

And the problem with all this?  Its so benign in nature, getting 95% of all observers to reverse it will be impossible.

We are stuck with it.

Hi, my name is Cassie.  You the new therapist?
…
Well that is good.  Therapists come and go, though.  So I won’t stick to the script.
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Yeah, I guess I can tell you about myself. I would usually start off by telling you that I am older than I seem, younger than I feel, and just about sick of the world I live in, but I know already that you wouldn’t care in the least.  And that doesn’t bother me.
…
Why?  I don’t know.  It just doesn’t bother me.  I know the way things are.  And how they will be.  And how they have been.
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Do I think I am crazy?  You should know the answer to that without me having to answer.  I am absolutely crazy. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here, right? There is not a definition of crazy that is large enough to contain my own special kind of the stuff.  But it is not like I stand in corners asking the walls if they have seen my shoes or anything. I am not bag-lady crazy.
…
Pessimistic?  It is not my fault I can see the world for what it is.  I call that being a realist.  I can be positive.  I like your shirt by the way.  See?
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Reminds me of a circus event. Elephants and lions and acrobats. Just crap flying everywhere.
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Do I like circuses?  Who doesn’t?
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Well I am sorry for you.  Scared of the clowns?
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By the way, you should call home.  Your son is choking on a carrot and your wife is downstairs vacuuming.  She can’t hear him. If you call now you can save him.
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Yeah. I told you I was crazy.  Of course you think I am kidding.  That is what has made me crazy.  “Sadness unto all those with deaf ears and blind eyes, for those that see and hear mourn you all and themselves as well, for you pay them no mind.”
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Something I heard somewhere.  I am not sure from where.  But in my case it fits the bill.  Your wife is about to call you hysterically.  Your son has passed on.  But don’t worry.  You will get up, turn around, and forget everything that I said.
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Oh yeah, go ahead, answer it.  No… no… I don’t mind the interruption.
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Yeah you can come back and see me.  It sounds like an emergency.
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Ok.  See you later.
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Well, well, just me and the walls.   Again.
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Have any of you seen my shoes?
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Shit.

“Isabella!”

Shut up.

“Isabella!!!”

That’s my father yelling again. Always yelling, my father.

“Isa – bella!”

Isabella is my mother. They have been fighting again, about…. My father has a problem. Well, not a problem, an epidemic. He likes the to play the field, even though he is supposed to be in the dugout. He cheats.

There I said it.

He cheats!

Why my parents stay together, is beyond me. Last weekend their fighting got really bad. My father had a date pick him up at our small house in lower Queens. At our house! Now, I know my father is smarter than that. I know it. And, well, having a date pick him up at our house didn’t make my mother too happy. She just cried.

“Isa – bella!”

Why can’t he shut the hell up?!?

Mother is not home, you drunken slob. Oh yeah, another great thing about my father, he can’t hold a job. My mother goes to work, comes home, goes to bed. My father then wakes up, takes the money and blows it all on the sauce. What a jerk-off.

I don’t love my father. And he hits me, he hits me HARD.

And screams. He always yells at me, “Vinnie you little shit! Why don’t you succeed, why don’t you try?!” And I cry. But I always think to myself, “why don’t you?”

“Why don’t you?!?!” I scream inside my head!

Because if that came out, he would probably put me in the hospital. And right now, he is sitting upstairs with a bottle of the cheap shit yelling for my mother.

“Vinnie!”

I look up at the house. I’m playing in our small cramped stoop with my baseball. I love baseball. The Yanks are my team.  Don’t talk to me about the Mets. Forget about it.  The Yanks, though.  What a team! Whenever I can, I sneak into the park to watch a game.

“Vin – nie!”

He’s really piss-ass drunk, now. And I know if I don’t go in, he’s probably going to lay into my little brother.

Time to face the damn music.

I walk slowly up the small brown stoop, aged by the incessant smog and sun. The pollution is baked right into the stone. Baked. First step, second step, third. I open the tattered screen door and look up into the darkened house. I hope he’s on the couch in front of the T.V. Slowly pushing the door, so it won’t creak, I put my foot inside.

“There you are you little Shit!!!” he screams violently.

I am thirteen, not really a little shit anymore. My dad comes running at the screen door. I don’t move. He grabs the door and throws it open, as if he wants to rip it off of the hinges like a loon escaping from their institution.

I don’t move.

“Little Shit! Where’s your MOTHER?!” And he slaps me.

I feel the quick shock of a thousand pin pricks spread slowly across my face. My vision blurs then clears. Then I hear my mother walk up behind me on the step. He grabs me by the hair and drags me into the living room.

“Stay here! And don’t peep,” He says as he turned back towards the door, “or I’ll rip your little faggot heart out.”

I hear my mother come in. I hear the door slam. I hear my father start to yell. I hear my mother start to scream, pleading for him to change his ways.

“Change?!? You expect ME to … Don’t cry! Don’t cry! Or I’ll give you something to cry about!”

I clench my fists. Here it comes, I know it.

SLAP!

No more! Something just rips itself inside of me. I feel a redness explode in my chest as I run to my room…

SLAP!

I grab my baseball bat…

SLAP!

I hear her cries for him to stop. I run back…

SLAP!

…out to the living room. I run into the kitchen grasping the bat in both of my hands, careful to not choke up. I see my mother trying to block his blows but failing. I see his hand start to turn into a fist….

I scream. “NO!” And I swing the bat.

I swing HARD.

I feel the bat make contact, the blow travels up the bat into my arm, through every part of my being. The first blow takes him at the back of the knees. He drops like a brick.

I pull up the bat to strike again. I see my mother astonished and crying.I see something in her eyes.  Shock?  Sadness?  Fear?

Of me?

No. No more hitting. He’s on the floor looking horribly pathetic.

“Get out.” I say as cold as my tears will permit. “I’ll take care of the family now. Never come back or I’ll put this bat through your fucking skull. We don’t need you. We don’t need you.”

He looked at me. Pushed himself up off the floor, dusting off his stained pants.  He stumbled out the door.  I heard the screen fall back and make its banging noise.

And we haven’t seen him since.

Excerpts from Case File h0054-3a, Item 01, “Tommy’s Very Secret Journal”.  Artifact located after initial contact date, Sigma 02-12-12. Released to Special Committee for study by Contact Group.  Excerpt collection, commenting, and collation provided by Contact Group, as follows.  Excluded material was found to be non-identifiable and not pursuant to case.  Dates intentionally removed.

Excerpt 1 – first mention by Tommy of Suzie

My name is Tommy.  I am eight years old.  I was born in Colorado Springs, CO.  I live in Evergreen, CO with my family. I have two brothers and one sister.  I am the third children (sic). My mother is a home designer, she helps make new homes pretty.  My father is a realtor, which is just a fancy way to say he is a salesman of other people’s houses.

I have an imaginary friend.  Her name is Suzie. Suzie loves me. I love her.  She is my best friend.  I can’t tell anyone about her.  I did a couple times, and got in big trouble with Mommy and Daddy.  Suzie tells me that she has been with me since I was 2 years old.  I talked about Suzie for a long time when I was a baby, but when school started, Mommy was upset that I still talked about Suzie.  She took me to a doctor today.

Mommy bought me this notebook.  I like to read. Mommy says I should write stories.  Stories about my invisible friend.

Suzie said that she agrees with Mommy.  I will try.  I want to make Mommy and Suzie happy.

Excerpt 2 – second mention, first signal notation!

Today was my birthday.  Everyone forgot.  Mom was working, Dad is traveling, my horrible brothers don’t care, and my sister is at a sleepover.  I turned 10 today.  10!  And no one remembered my birthday.

Suzie did.  She sang me a beautiful song and told me that we should take a hike tonight to the lake.  She told me that she could show me something special.  I asked her what she meant.  She doesn’t want to spoil the surprise.

<<CC: Different handwriting – note the loops and the change in direction on the flow of the characters>>

It is a surprise, and you will like it, Tom.

<<CC: returns to Tommy’s native handwriting>>

I hope so Suzie. You are the only one that calls me Tom.  I like Tom.

Excerpt 3 – day after above excerpt (#2)

Suzie and I walked up to what my dad calls the Thunder Tree.  It is an old burnt tree that is cracked in half.  In the summers, we come up here for picnics in the meadow.  Thunder Tree burned down when I was two years old.  Dad said it was a hell of a storm.

Suzie told me to walk past the tree and head to the lake.  At the edge of the lake, she told me to step into the water.  I didn’t want to get wet.  She told me to be brave.  I was.

I walked on the water. It was like firm ground.  It was amazing!  I could see the fish under my feet, and even a turtle!

Thank you Suzie!  That was a great!

<<CC: Second signal notation, again notice the changed pattern in the writing.>>

You are welcome, Tom.  You mean the world to me.

Excerpt 4 – (redacted) In which Tommy and Suzie discuss puberty and human physiology.  

<<CC: security clearance required for this passage due to genome modification and the resulting questionable homeland security concerns, please contact administrator for further details. Appears that integration was accelerating with Tom’s permission, the details are graphic.>>

Excerpt 5 – first mention of integration success by Tommy

I started my biology unit today. We will be dissecting a toad in the next couple weeks.  Yuck.  I am not very excited about the slicing and dicing, but Suzie has started talking about the finer points as we go through the material.  I love having my own study partner.  Being a freshman is hard, but having someone else to talk to helps. Since I can talk to her now without speaking out loud, it makes it so much easier. She told me she is like lace, laying gently over me.  It has taken a long time to get to this point, we have grown a lot together since she first asked.  She is whispering to me now about constellations, telling me to wrap my journal entry up.  She loves the stars.

Excerpt 6 – Tommy’s discovery.

Suz showed me how to seperate my thoughts from hers. She told me that I was my own person, and that I had every right to my own thoughts, feelings, and self.  It is getting easier to pull my attention away from her.  It helps when I talk to others.

I have made some good friends this year.  I thought Biology and Chemistry would be my worst subjects, but at this point, I don’t think I have a worse subject.  Suz helps me with everything in her own way.  Last night, I was at a study group with my friends, and George asked about my homework after everyone else left.  I told him it was already done, and he asked me if he could sneak a look.  I trust George… he is a good friend.  I don’t think he was looking to cheat, just get some direction.  So I helped him.   While we were chatting I accidentally mentioned Suzie.  He gave me a strange look when I blurted the thing about an invisible friend.  Good thing we were alone, because he probably thought I was nuts. I laughed it off and told him I was messing with him.  He didn’t look too sure.  But eventually I got him to laugh about it too. That was close.

I confronted Suz about it on the walk home.  She told me that we were unique. I had just thought it was taboo… something everyone just didn’t talk about, like sex or Aunt Margie’s live-in “friend”.  All this time, I thought everyone had a voice inside their head.  I thought everyone had an invisible friend. I thought that is what everyone was talking about when they talked about the little voice saying what is right and what is wrong.  All those other things… the holy spirit… the internal dialogue… the subconscious…. all a lie.  No one else has their own Suzie.

Suz explained that other people have the internal thoughts, but she herself was not one of those things for me. She lifted my arm and changed my eyes to see.  I could see her… bound within me, under my skin, near my bones, wrapped around me in the most intimate way.  She explained to me that we were the only ones like this in the entire world.

I don’t know why, but I cried.

I still am sad about it.  Not about being alone in this with Suz.  But I am sad for all of my family.  My friends.  My teachers and fellow students.  All of them, alone. So very alone.  Not a single one knowing what true companionship is like.  Not a single one of them knowing what it was like to have a best friend with you all the time.  Not a single one of them feeling complete love from the other… the sense of devotion that I get from Suz when we are talking about the stars, about the principles of fusion and quantum mechanics, about the underlying fabric of our universe.

All of you out there, like solitary candles in the dark.  It is so sad.  My mom and dad, brothers and sisters…

I am lucky.

Excerpt 7 – The last entry in the artifact diary.

I graduated today, two years early.  I should say that both Suzie and I graduated.  I was top of my class, Valedictorian.   I was class president, number one track star, and state record holder for the 100 meter and high jump. I could have been a world champion in anything.

I am holding back.  Suzie and I were both holding it back.  She told me she was waiting for something from me.  Maturity?  A certain level of understanding?

HA.  She just told me that she was waiting for my short hairs to grow in.

The reality is that I am much more than human.  Suzie, a crystalline entity that has inhabited my body since she crashed into Earth when I was only two years old, has made me something more.  Something complex and meta-human.  We can talk to cell phone networks without cellphones, we can communicate with satellites without the operators knowing we are there, we can hack on the internet in real time without a computer sitting in front of us.  Wikipedia, Google, the deep internet, unseen sites that have been around since before I was born, university learning programs, governments, very scary people and organizations… all of it… open to me at a moment’s whim.  We just need a signal.

And Suzie is telling me to point out that the porn was ‘handy’ too.  Har de har har.

But that isn’t just it.  She has made me stronger.  I never got sick as a kid.  My brothers and sister did.  Everyone thought I was just a hardy kid. Suzie made me strong, fast, and healthy.  I can run faster than anyone, jump higher than anyone, run longer than anyone. I can hold my breath under water for long spans of time (hours, we tested it last week).  She can finely control my digestion and metabolism.  I can eat anything.  Literally.  Last week, I ate a bar of soap, fourteen ball bearings, small loops of copper wire, a platinum medallion that I picked up in a pawn shop, and some nickels from the 1950s.  Suzie ‘processed’ it into a subdermal mesh for interfacing with electronics at a physical level.  I just touch things now, and I understand them. Fundamentally.

We are building something cool.  Something to take her home, and I am going with her.

But first we have decided to leave a message.  Mankind has to know that they are not alone.

So if you are reading this… now you know my own personal journey in this.  Know that I was not forced or coerced.  Know that she gave me the choice many times to separate.  Know that Suzimerieralil, Explorer First Class, and second of fourteen aboard the Chalsineei, has been the best part of me all these years.

Oh… and by the way…

We will be coming back.