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A Sufficiently Advanced Technology is Indistinguishable from Magic Johnson

A Sufficiently Advanced Technology is Indistinguishable from Magic Johnson

An honest-to-God gong went off somewhere in the dome. It was a low, rumbling note that shook my teeth. Schmendrick yowled along with it. I heard the rest of her pack down the hill in their shelter, yapping and howling too. Gary kept working, but he did pause for a moment, so you know things were pretty serious.

A heavy, grinding metal groan filled the night. Blazing blue light flickered in the Observatory windows, and then the round top of the entire structure cracked open in triangular segments. It opened, blooming like one of the flowers that surrounded the Radio, but huge.

Speaking of the Radio. Its voice boomed, shaking the world: “The Observatorium Sapientiae welcomed its Steward.” Then it ramped up, sounding officious and angry: “So it was decreed, so it shall be, from this day until the stars themselves dim and the great machines of creation cease to run.”

“Thanks, Radio, you’re a pal–OW!” Because the blue glow from within the dome had reached out into flickering sapphire flame, and it was barbecuing me.

It HURT. I was surrounded by blue fire. I rolled on the ground like one is told to do, but the flame wrapped itself around me, singeing the trees and grass, burning my clothing. Now I was emitting smoke. I was treated to the aroma of my own skin cooking, and the wounds hissed and fried like bacon in a pan. I yelled and tried to crawl away but the fire stayed on me, burning, stinging…

Schmendrick yipped in alarm and charged toward me. I held up a hand, stopping her. “No, stay away sweetie!” She skidded to a halt, ears down, fangs out.

It stopped, finally, leaving me in a crater of torched jungle plants and blackened grass. Embers quickly died in the rain. I still smoked.

Gary had stopped to watch. The blue fire was gone. He went back to work.

Schmendrick, seeing that I was no longer ablaze, crashed into my face, pressing her small skull to my forehead, whining. “Not dead again,” she said. “Not fire again.”

I stroked her neck. “I’m okay. Stay away, I might burn you, don’t get hurt.”

Umf umf, she made her distressed noise, and didn’t back off until I shakily stood.

I was still smoking, fresh from the flame broiler. I wasn’t wounded, exactly. I’d been marked. Tattooed? My skin hissed where rain struck it, which was everywhere. In fact, my cheap shirt, bargain cargo shorts and truly ghastly underwear fell to ashes. The shoes too, breaking into chunks with glowing, smoking edges. All those things had desperately needed laundering and it’s probably best that they died in fire.

I heard a high-pitched scream on the edge of perception. It was Gary. He’d stopped working and vibrated in midair. “Behold these fleshy protrusions that offend the very laws of structural harmony! What crudity of form and function dares profane the sublime design of the universe?”

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“Don’t overreact or anything, Gary.” The rain was helping cool the burns. I was one entire burn, I think, even the aforementioned ghastly protrusions.

“No tail,” Schmendrick said. “Bad.”

“Funnier that way.” I examined the backs of my hands, my belly, legs. There were intricate marks all over me now, geometric patterns and circles. They glowed faintly blue-green.

And they moved. “You guys see this?”

“Unspeakable horror!” wailed Gary, and fled to the trees.

Schmendrick inspected my hands as I knelt for her. “New,” she said. Then she said a string of things in her language, and I didn’t understand, so she said: “Marcas mágicas.”

The markings crawled over my skin, forming new designs, breaking apart into circles and spirals, intricate triangles and fractal paisleys. Constantly zipping and swirling, constantly glowing. I’d been marked with moving badges of office.

“Huh,” I said. “Radio, why did I get tattooed by animated gifs?”

“The Steward knew he would need to interface with the mechanisms of the Observatory, as well as the new visitors inevitably arriving to pay their respects.”

“Oh, great. Why’d you make that big announcement, blabbermouth? So it was decreed, so it shall be…”

“As the Steward was well aware, the Observatory was bound by rules.” The Radio had started playing a song, high, sweet feminine voices:

You’re outta the woods, you’re outta the dark, you’re outta the night

Step into the sun, step into the light…

The Observatory now had an open door, through which golden light flowed, and a new stone ramp that had risen from the jungle floor.

“I’m not ready for that,” I said. I still stung and burned. The rain was still cooling me and it helped. I grabbed the shovel. “Gary, come back here, we ain’t done. Tell your dudes to take cover in there. Schmendrick–

But Schmendrick was already herding her pack up the stairs. “Safe?” She called.

“Yeah. Please find me a pair of pants if you can, Schmendrick. Radio, I don’t know what’s in there, but make sure none of it hurts the guys, please.”

“The Steward, in his wisdom, has declared that none shall lay hand or harm upon those whom he has welcomed into the embrace of this hallowed place. His word is law, his decree absolute, upheld by the immutable forces that govern the very fabric of our world.”

“What word ‘pants’?” Schemdrick called.

“Don’t worry about it, just get in there and take care of your crew. Gary, I’m getting tired, let’s finish up.”

The rest of the Gardeners were trooping into the Observatory. They bumped the archway and ceiling, because they were so wide, but they made it through. Good, one less thing.

Gary was still out here, though, floating over in the trees. “You disgust me,” he said.

“So we’re done?”

“No!” He got back to work, and so did I. The rain eventually stopped, and my burns finally stopped stinging. I went into the Observatory.

Time to get things rolling.