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  “Do you want to die from the cough?” Allor asked her.

  “How did you know?” she asked him.

  Allor turned his device for her to see. “I heard you cough when you first arrived. See this word? It means death if you don’t let me use my machine to heal you.”

  On the machine display were ancient words that only Allor, Dubitam and MinKey knew the meaning of. Some words are horrible, and in a world of good would never be necessary. Cancer is one of those words.

  “We all die,” she said, still scared of him. “What price do you want, devil?”

  “But you will die before you give birth to your replacement in your belly. That is my price, she lives.”

  “Why do you care?” asked the woman, looking down at Allor, who was scanning her feet. She looked at him hard, a hardness towards a trickster.

  “Because I like a bargain,” Allor replied, pointing at her stomach and smiling.

  “I know you lie,” said the woman with a mean tone as before, but with just a glimmer of softness.

  “Do what you can to help others like I help you. Give them food. Shelter. Water. And ask them to do the same.”

  “Why should I?” she asked.

  “To pay me back.”

  “But I pay you nothing,” she insisted.

  “Yes, you do. For a moment, you will be different.”

  “That is nothing,” she retorted.

  “It could be everything, the only thing that matters” Allor replied.

  He finished and then stood up in front of the woman. He helped the woman to her feet.

  “I do not believe you are a god, no matter what your mother says” said the woman, looking directly into his eyes. Allor sighed at the mention of his mother.

  “Neither do I,” he said softly in reply.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Emergency meetings are rare at any university. But in the History Department at the University on Centrum Kath, it hadn’t happened in a very long time, 11.167 Kilorevs (~31 years) ago, during the Modus Emergency. Please try to do further transformations on your own. A rev is 25.71 of your Earth 5 hours, so think of it as one of your days, but with an extra 102.6 minutes to sleep.

  The room was very long, and in it was a very long table. Around the table sat men and women in spiffy white robes with gold piping mostly. A few diverged from the majority fashion. Professor Wingut most of all with his color splashes robe, a gift from a friend. He sat roughly midway down the table, next to Professor Mostly, herself in a blood-red robe with ugly harsh leather fasteners.

  At the end of the table sat Professor Sipolonius (Sip) Longley, the head of the History Department at the University on Centrum Kath, the greatest repository of knowledge and learning in the known universe. And they are so proud of this status that they include it in all of their marketing and branding. It is also required to be the last thing on all messages originating from the university.

  Polls every 100 revs reassure the chancellor and administration of the university that they are also perceived by everyone in the known universe as the greatest repository of knowledge and learning in the known universe.

  There is, however, a small contingent of renegade physicists at the university that are working to open portals to other universes, just to spite Chancellor Obfusmanian-Dropelagoos.

  His beautiful daughter, Cloop, declined an invitation to attend the Physics Department’s annual Bowling and Billiards Night Out. Professor Mein ran the billiards table eight times that night before retiring his laser pointer and protractor.

  Professor Sip Longley looked down the table at the men and women gathered. These were the most powerful men and women in the known universe. A few had a green leaf embroidered on their robe. They were the ones that maintained Calc Majoris, the largest probability calculator in the known…you know the rest.

  A little background might be useful here.

  You can calculate the odds of a horse race easily with pen and paper. But what would it take to calculate the odds of every possible outcome in the known blah, blah, blah. Consider it for just a moment. That is trillions upon trillions of calculations. And they all require data, evaluated, prioritized, given probability values, and values that can change with changes in the value of other data, the Ostrofsky effect. Get the picture yet? It is a combinatorial nightmare with trillions of f(x) functions.

  But let’s consider the end result. Say for instance, if your grandmother’s driving could cause a wreck that kills a possible Nobel Prize-winning medical researcher, the Grand Probability Calculator (Calcus Majoris) at the History Department on Centrum Kath will tell us the likelihood of it and warn us in advance.

  And there are so many possible comes. It is such a large set of results that we only catch the really important outcomes, or POCATFU events, as it is known in department lingo (Potential Of Catastrophic And Total Fuck Up). We also search for POWATFO too (Potention Of Wonderful And Totally Fabulous Outcome). Yes, they really are the most powerful men and women in the known…

  Professor Longley cleared his throat. The polite side conversations stopped.

  “It’s been one rev, and there is still no Professor Klept. Our field historians are on over four thousand planets as we speak. Still nothing.”

  “And are we sure of the data?” asked Professor Ellen Lall.

  Longley sighed slightly when he heard her voice. For the last 600 revs Professor Lall had argued that the probability calculator had significant logic flaws and should be turned off until corrected. She categorically voted against every mission raised to the Council. Longley smiled at the large woman with the orange robe with blue piping.

  “Seventy-four point eighty-one percent is significant. Even if we consider your theories about errors, do we really want to risk it?” he replied. “The Physics Department indicates that the three black hole combination would be sufficient to move the entire galaxy.”

  Quick note to you, the reader: Black holes have their own natural limit beyond which they don’t grow. However, they can combine with other black holes to exceed this limit. Professor Antino Klept’s experiment might cause the three largest black holes in Andromeda to combine, pushing it off course.

  So what, you ask?

  Well, Andromeda and our own Milky Way Galaxy are expected to collide in about four billion years. The POCATFU is that Professor Klept will reduce that from four billion years by a factor of 97.38176 percent. While this is not today, tomorrow, or even in your lifetime, or your children’s children’s lifetime, on a geological time scale it is the equivalent of next Tuesday.

  “Are we sure that he has run?” asked Professor Delmus Fitzcaraldo.

  Professor Fitzcaraldo is one of the new members of the Council, caused when Professors Smithers, Abaka, and Han all died on the same day. “Fitz,” as he is known, favors shutting down most agent operations. He is also friendly with professors from the Sociology Department and attends their social events. Longley doesn’t trust him for this reason.

  “No. We can’t be sure. He could have been kidnapped. But his dog is also missing,” replied Longley.

  There was a collective gasp in the room. “We need the probs on a runner taking their dog versus a kidnap,” said Professor Wingut.

  “I’m on it,” said Professor Misers Plunk.

  Plunk was Longley’s second-in-command in the History Department. Plunk suffers from historian bias. He thinks he is an excellent administrator, manager, and organizer. But he isn’t, and is generally rather hopeless in those three “adventures,” as he calls them.

  Still, he doesn’t see his own incompetence. The result is missing reports, poorly planned meetings and minutes. However his meetings are without a doubt the best catered gatherings in all of the university.

  Professor Plunk is larger than most. And when it comes to the probability calculator, Professor Plunk is mostly a man of genius.

  He poked his fingers in the air at something only visible to him. It was the interface he took with him everywhere.<
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  “92.7936 percent probability of him running if he took his dog,” answered Professor Plunk. He turned around in his chair and took from the rolling tray one of the very fine red square cakes with shaved coconut covering it. He put it in his mouth and made a most pleasant facial expression.

  The History Department in the University on Centrum Kath is responsible for all of history. Past, present, and future. When they find significant POCATFU or POWATFO, they must intervene. Sometimes it is a simple intervention, like a helping hand to drive grandma to her appointment to get her eyes checked. Sometimes, you have to kill grandma.

  You should expect her to object to this outcome and possibly resist. For this reason, being a field agent of the History Department in the University of Centrum Kath, the greatest repository of knowledge and learning in the known universe, is also the most dangerous job in the known universe. Excellent paycheck and benefits, though.

  Apologies in advance, I should tell you about EBC (Expected Body Count). It is a major criteria for prioritization of possible outcomes to promote or prevent. It just makes me sad when I see the numbers. Maybe I’ll tell you later or you’ll figure it out on your own; the name pretty much says it all. I am still trying to get my stomach around explaining Splatter Grannies and Goo Grannies.

  “Should we deploy agents on the bench?” asked Professor Wingut.

  Longley frowned.

  “Agents are on the bench for cause,” replied Longley. “Once they have cleared up their matters, they can become resources again.”

  You know how most areas of study culminate with obtaining a Ph.D. and then good times follow? Teaching positions and published papers and faculty dining rooms. It’s different with historians at the University on Centrum Kath. They get their Ph.D. then become field historians, human cannon fodder. Sent out to change history.

  But with enough successful missions and some luck at staying alive, agents get promoted after about five years to Educator.

  From there it is all gravy train, the good life, feet up on the desk. Teaching history is one of the top five highest-paying careers. Add to that running the known universe and traveling the stars as a revered and well-compensated expert, and it becomes a lifestyle most can only dream of.

  For this reason, agents, some of the most physically fit segments of the population, experience a metamorphosis when they become Educators. Not all do, but most gain a lot of weight.

  “Couldn’t we declare an emergency or an amnesty or something to get them off the bench?” asked Professor Wingut.

  “I can’t do that, it would violate University Policies on Expense Reimbursement, Conduct and Discipline, and our new Policy on practical jokes” replied Longley, making sure to emphasize the perpendicular pronoun.

  “Circumstances don’t warrant?” asked Wingut, as if hinting to a student in his class the right answer on an exam.

  “Circumstances don’t warrant,” replied Longley coldly. “No matter what the Sociology Department says,” he added with a tone of voice akin to a sneer. Longley liked consensus most of all. Dissent, not so much.

  The Sociology Department is the enemy of the History Department and run by Professor Leo Trill. Those idiots want to take over some of the planets currently under control of the History Department. It’s all about budget with them. We have it and they want it.

  Specifically, the planets in quarantine. The jack-booted thugs that are sociologists believe that they can best administer to planets that we have declared to be off limits to everyone.

  Why are they off limits?

  Because they haven’t met the contact criteria yet.

  What are the contact criteria?

  Better sit down for this one. Fix yourself a nice strong drink first.

  The History Department, with assistance from the Departments of Anthropology and Philosophy, drafted the contact criteria a long time ago.

  Not long after the Final War between the forces of Good and Evil, versus the rest of us.

  5 trillion people died in the Final War. Yes, that’s trillion with a ‘T’. Entire planets were destroyed at the Battle of Least Mistakes. Fortunately we had the first proven Improbable, The First McGee. If it weren’t for her, we would all be slaves to G&E.

  And it all started with Bliss. Planets couldn’t recover from the collapse of the Cult of Bliss, a particularly virulent strain of the disease that causes humans to believe they can achieve a higher level of consciousness by doing very dumb things. Think Whirling Dervishes with anti-gravity belts, punctuated with rhythmic head trauma.

  More examples later. But for now just know that when the High Priest of Bliss, a man pledged to chastity, was found in the act of being most unchaste, their mining contracts were not renewed and the entire religion became financially insolvent. Apparently the lifestyle of a High Priest is very costly. But the effect of it was like someone shot an Archduke or something. In response they tried to remain financially viable by conquering new planets very quickly.

  Big war, lots of death, eventual victory for us, followed by reflection.

  The First McGee, in her address after the banishment of the G&E Survivors, suggested we had just been given the biggest argument for change in history and it would be very stupid for us to ignore it. She showed us the same cycle happening over and over again. Megalomaniacs, Empire, Death, Destruction, Repeat. Example after example she went through. Always the same pattern. Always the same result.

  And to further the point, she suggested that in many instances things would have turned out much better if we had done the exact opposite of what we actually did.

  Now she had intended this to be hyperbolic and said it mostly for dramatic effect. Yes, she has said this in latter interviews and writings. However, at the time, no one heard it as hyperbolic. Rather it was the words from the woman who lead us to victory over a group of people who were very bossy and thought they had all the answers. The woman who had saved us all from slavery.

  So instead of thoughtful reflection upon her words, we acted upon her words with all the enthusiasm of Maoist students denouncing revisionist professors during the Cultural Revolution.

  And she was right. In a lot of instances, doing the opposite is much better. But more about that later. Pick up that drink now.

  As a result, here are the contact criteria agreed to and currently enforced:

  No wars – this one is pretty obvious to everyone except soldiers. 5 Trillion dead bodies. It was not only a slaughter, it immediately became an enormous health hazard of ancient diseases. And I even think that deep down soldiers would agree to give up wars if they had a decent guaranteed income. The Final War proved that we must break the chain of fighting or we will perish.

  No military – again, organizing to efficiently murder others, well we’ve had enough of that already thank you. We barely survived it. It just doesn’t work. And it periodically brings us to the brink of total destruction. There were seven instances during the Battle of Least Mistakes when actions could have resulted in the eventual death of all sentient life in the universe. We are demilitarized now.

  (Big Sip Now) No Mythology – this might be the most dangerous thing in history. It certainly holds the heavyweight title in every galaxy for carnage. The Final War against the Forces of Good and Evil was all about this. They insisted we adopt their mythology. We said no thank you to their children’s stories. They got very offended about this and attacked. They wouldn’t even look at our evidence disproving their beliefs. But fortunately for us………………..they suck at science.

  Please know that this does not include spirituality. You can be into oneness with the universe until your heart’s content. It’s the children’s stories and the willingness to kill because of them. Those aren’t allowed. Besides they are a large part of the cause for the next prohibition.

  No slavery—physical or economic or gender.

  (yes, gender—you read that right, guys. Get over it. Every time we’re been the ones in charge, we’ve fucked
it up. So let’s try everyone/no one in charge for a change. Let’s get over ourselves). And using children’s stories and saying they are true in order to oppress women isn’t allowed. Even if you have brainwashed them into thinking it is their place in life. Sorry, we’ll leave you alone until you come to your senses.

  No Carnivores – think about it for a moment. How would you like to be some other species’ version of caviar? In fact there are several instanced where other larger, more advanced species have found humans to be a delicacy. You might have even read a true Earth Five story about it.

  I bet that isn’t the list you would have made. Me either. I don’t care what you believe, as long as you keep it to yourself and everyone can buy beer on Sundays.

  But a lot of thought was put into the list and let’s be frank for a moment. Letting a barbaric group of humans loose on the galaxy with technology and visions of conquest in their eyes along with genocidal teachings from imaginary friends will just get a lot of people killed, again. That’s what the Final War was all about. We’ve had to change the model to survive.

  Fortunately often, before the barbarians even get off their own planet, the problem resolves itself and the planet in question self-destructs. The Tech Emp gets them.

  What’s that? Let me explain it simply like this:

  Imagine a graph.

  The left vertical axis is propensity to violence, the horizontal axis is time. But there is also a right vertical axis too. It is for the number of kills per use of a weapon. Consider it weapons effectiveness.

  There is a line that curves down to the right, indicating that as our civilization progresses, we become less prone to violent responses over time. We understand more things and can be more compassionate instead of fearful. Let’s call it empathy.

  There is also a curve that starts near the intersection of both axis on the left and goes upwards as it goes to the right. Body Count per use of a weapon. More basically, it represents weapons technology. As time progresses we can kill more people every time we blow the shit out of things.