by RussetDivinity on Sat Jul 05, 2014 5:51 pm
1. I've come because I need your help to save time and space from our arch-rival: Evil Qara and her army of zombie cyborg duck-men
2. They want to give you the past cheese, so that you can go to the fest. Well, maybe some of it.
3. Past you, unconcerned with rifts in space-time, trundles past you and on to the festival.
4. Past you, unconcerned with rifts in space-time, trundles past you and on to the festival.
5. Past you, unconcerned with rifts in space-time, trundles past you and on to the festival.
6. Past you, unconcerned with rifts in space-time, trundles past you and on to the festival, obviously still having the cheese.
7. Past you is about to open up a rift in space-time, thus closing the loop.
Random number generator says... 3.
Past-you may have caused the space-time rift, or may not have. Either way, there is no concern on past-your face as the robot trundles on, past you and toward the festival. Of course; 14.27 seconds before any of this started, your only concern was to get to Fondue Fest. Now, of course, you've lost your chance, while past-you can continue on. You don't blame past-yourself. You might have done the same thing in past-your situation.
With a sigh, you climb back up your robot, wishing there were more ladders randomly scattered about the city. With no chance to get to Fondue Fest, you decide you might as well do your second job of the day: dumping Ethan's body in the ocean. Hoping past-you has a good time so that someday you can steal the memories of Fondue Fest and pretend they were yours all along, you turn the robot and head of in a straight line toward the sea. Luckily, the city you regularly terrorize is close to the ocean, so it's a short walk to the coral reef that used to be Ethan's family. You try to take some joy in crushing oil executives and their cars, but now that your cheese is well and truly lost, life seems to have lost all meaning.
You park the robot on the cliff above the reef and lug Ethan to the edge, almost positive he won't mind the grass stains on his uniform. He's a lot lighter now that he's old, and at the edge of the cliff, just before throwing him off, you stop and say, "Well, it's been wonderful. I'm sorry your cheese never got to win first prize at the Fondue Fest, but it served a better purpose: keeping space and time from falling apart." As an afterthought, you add, "And sorry I forgot the fruit basket. I was going to pick one up after the festival, but... well, you know. Or you wouldn't, being dead."
With your farewells said, you roll Ethan to the edge of the cliff. But wait! Who's that out in the kayak?
Jubilation and despair are two sides of the same coin.