This was my first serious attempt at writing a short story. It was written as part of our family's writing group back in 2005. I started the group as a way of motivating me (and others) to finally try writing some short, creative fiction. It worked pretty well as we had several people participate. Even better: we kept going for many years and this turned out to be the first of many stories that I would write.
Eights in a Hole
by Rusty Keele
They weren't listening to me. I can't stand it when people don't listen to what I'm saying. I had tried to make the discussion environment more interesting - perhaps I had succeeded too well. Trying to be more in the “island” spirit, I had set the virtual interface to create a large open-walled thatch-roofed hut. The weather was set to light rain, with bits of sun shining through here and there, just what I imagined a real midday shower to be like – refreshing as well as relaxing. The hut was located at the edge of the jungle, coconut and mango trees were scattered all around us. Just 50 meters away was the lagoon. The tiny waves lapped lightly at the small beach.
Their faces showed that the setting was more interesting than the discussion - their eyes taking in all the details of this perfect representation of an era gone by. Why did they even show up? They were all bored. I sat cross legged in the center of the hut, with the seven of them in a semi circle around me. There was the middle aged woman in her bright skirt – from Kosrae? - and the two men dressed in their business attire – which meant Hawaiian shirts and slacks with flip-flops. A couple of other ladies that looked like sisters or something, and then there was “the King.” Some young man – 20 maybe? - sitting on his virtual throne. Had I not set the image firewall to filter out representations that were not conducive to a religious discussion he would have looked much more intimidating. I checked the port into which he was streaming his image – he was sending a red-skinned man, complete with black goatee and two small red horns. The firewall was displaying him without the red skin or horns, but he still had his devilish beard. He must be somewhat interested in the message, however, because he knew I was altering his image and yet he still remained. As strange and childish as it was for him to alter his image to reflect a devil, he wasn't the one that bothered me the most. That honor went to the stick. A perfectly drawn stick man. He stuck out horribly - just like a cartoon in the real world. He sat on a virtual (albeit stick drawn) park bench and pointed his face towards me, giving the impression that he was paying diligent attention to every word that I was saying. It was hard to accurately read sticks, hardly any facial expressions or body language came out of that all-too-perfect stick man figure. He looked like he was drawn by a five year old graphic artist. His head was perfectly round with perfectly oval eyes and a half-triangle nose. All of this was stuck on a popsicle stick figure with angular bony arms and legs, and round paws for hands and feet. I think he was paying attention. His brush-stroked eyebrows did raise and lower every once in a while, and his head intermittently nodded back and forth – was he agreeing with what I said? Gosh, I hated dealing with sticks. Why didn't he just use a virtual body instead? Who would want to hide his identity behind a stick figure while attending a religious discussion? The guy must live in a really paranoid world.
The discussion seemed to be almost pointless, so I finally stopped talking and asked if anyone had any questions, or would be interested in hearing more about this message. The way they all popped out of the virtual hut was my answer. The stick stayed though. He got up off of his bench and cartoon walked his way over to me. I thought briefly of changing my appearance into Satan himself, but I quickly suppressed it. The Church wouldn't be too happy with me for trying to scare away an investigator – even if it was a stick. Besides, the image firewall would block my burst of childishness.
I asked what he thought of the lesson and he smiled a perfect half-circle smile and made an action with his head that I took for a nod. It was only when I asked him what his favorite part was that his presence - and the situation - got even more annoying. He started moving his hands and arms in some sort of rhythmic circles and waves. In mid stream his circle hands changed into more-lifelike ones, complete with fingers and thumbs. It took me a few moments, but I finally realized that he was trying to use Netsign to communicate with me. Good grief, he was even more paranoid than I thought! Not even talking? Surely only someone in big trouble - a criminal perhaps - would go to such lengths to disguise his true identity.
I told him to wait a minute while I downloaded standard Netsign. I straightened up, relaxed, closed my virtual eyes and accessed the files on the language database server. I didn't take long to find the directory for Netsign. I quickly scanned the sub-directories and found what I thought would suffice – Standard Netsign for Basic Communication. I downloaded the entire directory and executed the language override protocol in my virtual body. It took five seconds, but I was finally able to understand the stick.
He indicated that he found the discussion very interesting and wanted to know if he could make an appointment with me to learn more. I felt a pang of guilt for wanting to change into Satan. I thought a response and watched as my hands and head created a reply in Netsign. I would love to teach him some more - when could he come back? This was when the trouble all started. He replied that he didn't want to come back, but instead he wanted me to come and visit him – in person! Ha! Good luck with that one buddy – the Church rarely granted access to virtual net missionaries to actually visit people in the regions they serve. I told him that was very unlikely, but he could contact the physical mission office on Guam, and they could probably help him. Then the stick man really surprised me as he reached into his thin body and pulled out a ticket. He handed it to me and asked if this would make any difference. It was a fully paid open-ended transport ticket issued by the FTA, but even more amazing was the fact that my name was already printed on it! That thing must be worth a small fortune! Stick man was serious, so I asked him to wait while I contacted the Church's missionary office at HQ. Five minutes later, much to my astonishment, I had clearance to teach a one-day live missionary discussion in Micronesia.
***
Since I didn't expect this discussion to take more than an hour or two, I didn't really have to pack for the trip. I just showed up at the international airport the next morning at 1:00 am. It was quiet and empty. Not like the olden days when planes actually transported people all over the country. There were a few planes out there, close to the only remaining runway. I could see the corn fields beyond them – thats where the old runways had been. I made my way to the international transport center. Since there were so few people, I quickly made it through the ticket check and arrived at the security jack. I never could get used to the feeling of jacking in and allowing the security worms to access my memories and personal inventory files. Nothing in me but memories of packing my scriptures and virtual discussions guidebooks.
I was issued a transport number. I took it and found a seat in the airport lounge. I watched the airport news channel for about 10 minutes before my ticket started softly beeping. I grabbed my bag and headed for the gate.
The stewardess asked me all the standard questions – did I drink or eat anything in the last hour? No. Did I have any medical conditions that might be affected by transporter travel? No. Did I have any diseases or genetic manipulation that might be screened by the transporter? No. Then my favorite – the personal identity / security question: what was the name of my first virtual pet? Finger Shark. Then I was in.
The stewardess held the door open for me as I entered the red and silver cylinder. I sat on the high backed leather seat and adjusted the head rest, then buckled the straps. She made sure I was in all nice and snug, and then checked my bags too. When I was all set she smiled in a pretty but plastic sort of way and bade me a good trip. She left and I could hear her securing the door from the outside. After a few seconds I heard the door being unsecured, and in came a different stewardess. This one had dark hair. “Hafa Adai! Welcome to Guam!” I smiled, sneezed a couple of times, then just nodded as she undid the straps.
After making my way through the security check and the ticket return station, I finally exited the restricted area. The smoky sliding glass doors opened into a steamy yet delightfully fragrant reception area. It was hard to breathe for a moment, then I heard a man ask if I was the one who had come to teach them the gospel. Yeah, I was starting to remember why I enjoyed being a virtual missionary.
The teddy-bear looking islander with the mustache and red flowered shirt said his name was Lepai. I learned that he wasn't from Guam, but another island in Micronesia several hundred miles away – Pohnpei. That was no problem, but I was starting to feel put out when he said that we would be taking a plane – actually flying - to Pohnpei. The island didn't have a transporter, and I was to meet with several of them.
Before leaving the airport I found a jack-booth. I plugged the cable into the base of my skull, straightened up, relaxed and went into a semi trance as I accessed the Church's language database again – this time I downloaded the entire directory for the Pohnpeian language. It took 3 minutes, but I figured it would be worth it to teach these people in their own language. Once I had the files I needed I tried to jack out but couldn't – the connection was being held on request from the Church's security servers. Since I had accessed their databases from a previously unknown jack-booth, I was required to be inoculated against any kind of electronic virus, malware, adware, trojan, worm or anything else that might try to hack the Church's servers. It took an extra minute. When I finally unjacked I tried the newly acquired local greeting “Kaselehlie! Ia iremw?” but Lepai was anxious - “C'mon friend, it is already 7:09 – we need to catch the plane!” There was only the slightest of pauses as the language override protocol had to actually interface with my speech biotech – not bad, but also not as nice (or as fast) as the virtual LOP. I had to hurry - I had forgotten that true flights actually kept a timetable!
The flight to Pohnpei took a few hours. We landed at a “vintage” airport. It still had both runways – albeit they were built on an artificial island in the middle of a harbor. It felt as if I had stepped back in time a few hundred years as we were herded through the antique metal detectors, and had our luggage physically searched. Nowhere near as invasive as the virtual security worms. On our drive to the main island (and subsequently around it) I tried to determine if Lepai was the stick man who had requested the meeting. He didn't seem to like to answer my questions directly, but from what he said I figured he didn't have anywhere near the experience to create a virtual stick facade to mask his true identity. He had a jack-port at the base of his skull, but it was an older connection – and no telling when he had used it last.
After going through the main town – Kolonia he called it – we headed east and started to circle the small island in a clockwise direction. Lepai explained that even though we would only be traveling a few miles, it would take about a half hour to get to where we were going. The road was windy, and the asphalt hadn't been replaced in nearly a century. I thought places like this existed only in books and movies. It was beautiful, yes, with it's steamy jungles and mangrove trees that met the ocean. But it was also old, and backwards. I saw several people actually walking – to where I had no idea – but they walked along the roads as if they had no idea that a moving vehicle could actually crash into them. No one seemed to care, and most of them smiled and waved as we slowly made our way past them. It didn't take long before I became sick to my stomach and had to flop over on the bench seat. More than once I had to ask Lepai to pull over so that I could empty my stomach of its dizzying contents. Stupid motion travel! I was glad I rarely had to experience it!
***
Finally the truck pulled off of the pavement and went down a short but bumpy dirt road. When it stopped I stepped out into a light, warm rain. We were at the edge of the lagoon, or edge of the island – if you like to look at things that way. I imagined that the water must be crystal clear if the rain drops weren't distorting it. Even though it was only early afternoon, the dark rain clouds made it feel later than that. There was no hint of cool or dry air however – it was still a steamy sauna. Lepai pointed across the harbor to a piece of land I thought was just a peninsula. He said it was actually an island, and he called it Takai Ehu – One Rock. That was where we would be going to meet with the rest of his group. I suddenly realized that I had no physical protection should Lepai or any of his friends decide that I would be most useful unconscience. (The virtual world had so many advantages over the physical one!) I decided that a scripture bag to the head would be my best bet if anything should happen. Sad... I know.
We pushed an outrigger canoe into the lagoon, boarded it and started for Takai Ehu. I attempted to help Lepai paddle, but my awkward movements and the combination of the waves and unsteady floor helped me decide that I liked being horizontal instead – even though the rain pelted my face.
It must have only taken 20 minutes to make it to the island. After feeding the fish with the last of my lunch, we beached the canoe and and began hiking along a trail that eventually led around the northern part of the island. The rain stopped now, and a hot steamy sun began to shine. Halfway down the backside of Takai Ehu we emerged from the jungle into what was obviously not a natural beach. It was only 40 or 50 meters from one edge of the jungle to where it resumed. But right in the middle of the beach, jutting out into the sea was a trail. It wasn't like the trail that we had just come on, this trail was made of some artificial substance, similar to concrete, but it looked more like coral. It was way too straight to be natural. The coral trail was about a meter wide, but began on the dry sand and led straight out into the lagoon. It never went under water however, but appeared to be about 6 or 7 centimeters above the glassy water for as far as I could see.
“What is this?” I asked Lepai, suddenly feeling very much like a pirate prisoner.
He hopped lightly upon the coral trail, turned, smiled at me and said “Friend, this is where they are.”
“Where who is?”
“The group – the ones who want to meet with you.”
“What?! Who would be out there? Am I supposed to meet with a group of fishermen?”
He smiled and pointed at the water near the walk-way. About 5 meters away from the beach I noticed them and nearly cried out. Octopuses – several of them! Maybe 10 or 12, split about evenly on both sides of the path. I could see them floating, almost treading water – as if they were waiting for someone (me?) to follow their yellow brick road. How big did octopuses get? These seemed frighteningly large to a small mellow missionary like myself. Most of them were about three meters tall. Were they supposed to be that big? Boy, I could really use a jack-booth right about now. I had never really bothered to learn much marine biology, because I always assumed it would be at my neuron tips whenever I needed it. It was getting harder to breathe – it must be the hot humid climate.
Lepai turned and started walking down the coral trail – straight out into the sea. I wasn't about to go down it, however. After he had walked about 20 meters or so, he stopped and turned around to look at me. He wasn't smiling anymore, instead he had that motherly “Let's go!” look about him
“Friend, I'm waiting for you.” he said.
“Um... I don't think I really want to go out there” I replied.
He starting walking back toward me. It was a purpose driven walk, and led him off of the coral trail and up the small sandy beach until he stopped just in front of me.
“Listen, I'm not going to go...”
His hand was fast – unnaturally so - it shot around and hit me hard in the temple. There was more power behind it than I could have imagined. It sent me sprawling onto the sand. I lay on my side vigorously rubbing my head and wondering where the bright lights had come from. Lepai leaned over me, smiled wickedly and said “Yes. You are.” He turned around and faced the water, and for the second time in two days I saw someone actually use Netsign. I wondered who he could possibly be communicating with, then I noticed that he was looking right into the water – about five meters out! The octopuses! This was crazy! But as I looked out at them, I saw several of them turn and head out to sea, and even more amazing – I saw one of them respond in a wild form of the language that involved four tentacles. These were not normal octopuses... I must have been hit harder than I thought.
Lepai grabbed me by the arm and yanked me to my feet. I was still reeling, and it was hard to stand. He led me over to the coral trail, and forced me up on it. Slowly I started down that terrible path, having no idea where I was being led to. Some of the octopuses were still there. It was eerie – in a horror movie kind of way. They just floated along beside me on both sides of the path as I made my way along it. I tried to think of everything I knew about octopuses. Years ago I had watched a virtual documentary about them on Public Information Net. I remembered that they could change their skin color, like a chameleon. They could also pull their flexible bodies through very small spaces. What I didn't remember was how they propelled themselves in the water. This posse that escorted me seemed to float easily in the water, and didn't seem to have a hard time keeping up with me.
As I went farther along the path, the octopuses were joined by more of their kind. Some were smaller or the same size as the ones I saw by the beach, but several were increasingly larger. After I had walked for about a kilometer, there were approximately 50 of them surrounding me. Though I tried not to show it, I think they could sense my fear. Finally the path came to the edge of a humongous bowl made out of the same material as the path. The walkway stopped abruptly, and then split in either direction to form the lips of the giant bowl - a hundred meters across! My horror only increased as I looked into this big teacup-like structure – hundreds, maybe thousands, of octopuses were swarming in the midst of it.
My eight legged escorts waited while I looked on in horror, but Lepai gave me a shove that almost knocked me into the water.
“Go!” he said, pointing to the path to the left. I walked to the left. My legs were trembling now as my worst fear was falling into this inner circle of Hell. Several of the octopuses rushed toward me as if they wanted a first hand (tentacle?) glimpse of me. There were hundreds following me around the inside of the bowl now, but there were also 50 or 60 following me around the outside of the bowl. I noticed as I walked, that were several holes in the wall that connected the inner bowl with the rest of the ocean. At these junctures many of the octopuses would would cross over to the other side. I also noticed one other thing - when I got about a fourth of the way around the lip of the bowl, I saw another pathway. This one led right, and straight across the diameter of the bowl to the other side. I looked at it from several different angles, and realized that it wasn't a solid pathway like the one I had walked on from the island, but it was more like a bridge that led from one side of the bowl to the other. I wasn't about to try it though. I continued to circle around the bowl as Lepai remained at the junction, scowling at me ominously.
I finished my walk all the way around the lip of the bowl. I had accomplished nothing, other than I was now exceedingly fearful of falling into the water - and I had found the bridge across the circle. That was it. I didn't get too close to Lepai. He didn't say anything, so I just stood there, gazing into what I was sure would be my cauldron of death. After what felt like several hours in the blistering sun I finally decided to try the bridge. I back tracked counter clockwise to where the bridge met the rim wall trail. I took a deep breath and started across it. After about 10 meters I began to doubt my thinking, and I turned back as if to make toward the rim wall again. Then I noticed something I wasn't able to see from the rim. Several of the octopuses seemed to be working on something down there. In several places along the inside of the rim, about 10 meters down, there was black pipe sticking out of the bowl wall. I couldn't tell what they might be, but they looked like black PVC pipes waiting to be connected to something.
I checked the other side of the bowl also. Sure enough, about 20 meters away, there was another pipe sticking out. I looked for a second one but I was surprised to see something else. It looked as if there was a giant glass sphere in the exact spot where another black pipe should be. What was it? Could it be some sort of air tight room? Is that what they used to connect whatever-it-was to the end of the pipe? I knelt down and leaned as far forward as I dared, so as to get a better look. The combination of the shimmering wavy water and the light refracting from the sphere's surface suddenly made me sick to my stomach again. I reared back immediately, but I went too far – I felt myself falling backwards into the sea!
The fear made me thrash around like a drowning child. Forgetting where I was I tried to scream and my mouth filled with bitter salty water. The last thing I remember was seeing (and feeling) a huge tentacle wrap itself around my face – covering my eyes. I am a dead man I thought.
***
When next I opened my eyes I was lying on my back in a small puddle of water at the bottom of a thick glass sphere – it had to be the one I saw from the bridge. I coughed up some sea water - that really made me want to get out of the puddle I was in. I stood up. The sphere wasn't too big – but I couldn't quite touch the top of it with my outstretched fingertips. For a while I just gazed out into the sea and watched my captors go about their work. The octopuses didn't seem too interested in me anymore. Several groups of them were working around the black pipes. That reminded me that this sphere was right where one of them should be. This sudden dawning caused me to quickly turn around to look for it. It was right there. A hole in the sphere exposed about a foot of the bowl wall, and right in the middle of it was a jack.
I must have stood there dumbfounded for several minutes as it occurred to me that I could actually jack in. But I wasn't so sure I wanted to do that. This was an unknown, unsecured jack in the middle of nowhere – not to mention that I was several feet underwater and standing in a puddle! This thing could literally fry my biotech brain! I decided that was not how I wanted to die.
After an hour or two I realized that I didn't have my scripture bag with me anymore. I figured I must have dropped it when I fell into the bowl. I began to scan the bowl for it. Now that I was on the inside, I could see that the bowl wasn't as deep as I thought – maybe only 30 or 40 meters. My little sphere was about a third of the way down the rim wall. After some intense scanning I finally spotted my brown leather bag at the bottom of the other side of the bowl. How I wished for some comforting words in this time of fear and depression. That would make the end easier. Then I remembered that the jack could also provide that.
My depressing mood must have sapped the last bit of strength out of me, because the next thing I knew I awoke and it was dark. Not completely dark though. There was a bright blurry moon that I could make out overhead. I couldn't see the entire bowl, but from what I could see I determined that there wasn't an octopus in sight. I didn't care. I let myself escape back into sleep.
Over the next few days I became more depressed and the jack weighed ever more heavily on my mind. During the days I would watch the octopuses come and go. I think they were hunting, because they would come back and be relatively sedate for a few hours. I also noticed that bones and other fish remains begin to be a more frequent sight – either on the bottom of the bowl or floating freely in the water.
I eventually became aware that they were putting another jack to the right of me, and this became my chief form of entertainment. In just a few days they installed another sphere and then two of them worked in the airtight environment to make the jack connection. After that the sphere was removed and the jack didn't look all that different from mine. In fact the only difference that I could see was that it was fully submerged in water, while mine had been sealed (along with me) in an air tight sphere. Then to my astonishment I watched several of the octopuses test it. I hadn't noticed that they had jack ports on the back of their heads, but obviously they did. One of them floated back until it was almost in contact with the jack, then it's rear tentacles went to work. Two of them encircled the pipe for support, and one of them acted as a guide as the octopus backed onto it. Just like a human, the octopus went into a highly relaxed trance-like state as the connection took hold. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of information it was accessing – the best local fishing spots? A human language database? How to fend off sharks? How to best ensnare humans? Some sort of aquatic erotic art? Ha ha ha ha ha!! I began to laugh uncontrollably. I couldn't stop. It was great in a way but it made me hyper-ventilate and I eventually reeled forward and hit my head on the hard spherical glass as I passed out – again.
***
After what felt like several days I was starving and unbearably thirsty. I was rapidly growing weaker. I knew the end was near, and I finally rationalized using the jack. I figured the worst case scenario was frying my brain and dying instantly. The best case scenario was gaining access to my mailbox and composing letters to my friends and family. I began to realize that maybe I could communicate with them and they could send help. Why hadn't I thought of this before? It was my best shot. I stood up, I was wobbly but I could do this. I would have to lower my head about 6 centimeters or so, and maneuver myself onto the jack backwards. This proved much more difficult than I imagined it to be. Just before I connected I noticed that several octopuses had attached themselves to the sphere. I could see the suction cups on the bottom of their tentacles. I had the sudden fearful idea that they were trying to break in to stop me. This only strengthened my resolve, and I used my last bit of energy to jack in.
There was a bright flash of white light. As it died down, I saw that I was in a white bowl – just like the real one under the water. Red warning phrases kept flashing in front of me: Warning! Insecure Connection! Warning! Unknown Process Attempting Access! Warning! Virus Alert! Warning! Do Not Attempt To Access The Public Net! The security programs that had been uploaded into me at the airport were obviously on full alert.
The air was heavy as syrup – and it was truly hard to breathe. I wasn't sure if this had to do with the virtual environment or the physical one. However, I had gained more that just Net access – the connection was feeding energy into me as well! Incredible! I had no idea a jack could be used for anything other than virtual purposes. I felt myself getting stronger. These beings (I truly doubted now that they were octopuses) must have learned how to send more than just information through a jack connection. I was in awe.
There were three other beings around me – they weren't the octopuses that I had seen in the real world. These were faceless mounds covered in what looked like lizard flesh, with four tentacles each. They were using their tentacles to stand on mostly, but every once in a while they would use them like hands too. Every few minutes another one would pop in – they must be jacking in from the outside. I knew that I would be overwhelmed by them shortly so I must act fast. I straightened up, relaxed and closed my eyes. I had access to a vast amount of information – but the structure, and indeed the information itself, was completely foreign to me. Frantically I searched for anything that I might recognize. Then I saw it – the one thing I never thought I would see – the complete suite of FTA transporter applications and files! I quickly accessed it. Its top layer held the public access protocol and interactive menus. Knowing just what I had learned by watching stewardesses at airports, I began to move through the options.
I was interrupted by a tentacle wrapping itself around my leg. I let my gaze drop back into focus. A lizard mound was attacking me with two of its tentacles. I used my other foot to kick it hard in the center of its body. My foot sunk deep into it, but didn't break its skin. There was a high pitched burst of sound and it let go and scampered off towards the others. Twenty or thirty of them were directly in front of me now. A couple were off to the side accessing some sort of controls inside an elaborate interactive panel. I ignored them and focused my attention back on the transporter program.
As amazed as I was to see an unsecured transporter program, I was even more amazed to see that it had been cracked – and was apparently usable! The user interface was built to be intuitive and easy to use – thank goodness for that! I found what I hoped was the destination dialer. I set it for Church HQ, then activated it. Amazingly – it worked! The blinking warnings stopped and the white room faded. I could see the sphere's glass wall – covered by hundreds of octopuses. Then even that started to fade – I was really being transported! I could see the inside of a cylinder materializing around me – then I was there! The door was quickly opened by a security guard, and I fell into his arms.
***
I awoke in a hospital bed. There was another security guard in my room, who immediately called for the doctor. The doctor gave me a complete check up and then released me. I wasn't quite free to go home however – first I had to meet with the Church's virtual security department. I spent the rest of the day being interviewed and checked for viruses. It seems that the inoculations I received in Guam were the only thing that saved my life. The alien jack had tried to infect me with several kinds of malicious programs and files.
The people at Church HQ were kind enough, but I don't think anyone really believe my story – or my outlandish theory – that the octopuses were under the control of some sort of alien beings. I did my best in explaining what had happened though. My reward was that I was given a month off of virtual missionary duty. I went home and crashed. I spent the rest of the month watching tv and reading print articles about octopuses – careful to stay away from the net.
The End
This story copyright © 2005 Rusty Keele. All rights reserved.
