Author : Andy Bolt

I am in a hole. It is a filthy place in a bad neighborhood in Bucharest, surrounded by government troops who are about to evilly stomp their way in here. They are having some trouble getting past my photon tent. It creates an alternating series of forty-two hundred force fields that borrow from the energy matrices of forty-two hundred non-parallel dimensions not yet tapped by physical probes. I enjoy these powerful, swirling forces, several of which have bizarre and horrible effects when introduced to our universe.

And yet, they will be through my shield soon. Already, I can sense the cold boxes creating a localized zone of absolute zero. This will disrupt the functioning of all but a dozen of the alternating fields. Of those remaining, all but two have well-developed counter measures. Those two will simply be shot until they overload. I can feel the bombardment starting.

I am watching reruns of “Guess What’s in Your Mouth” and buzzcasting doctored images of the Eastern European governor, Milt Sill, committing obscene and illegal acts with obscene and illegal entities. They have tried to cut me off, but there’s just too much information in the air these days. Gel phone frequencies and omninet signals. Quantum vision and mindblower wavelengths. Extradimensional routers and redigitizer stations and retro-radio transmissions. You can’t get them all. So my buzzcasts go out and they try to break in and libelous pictures of Sill get passed around campuses and electronic office parks and meanwhile, my storewell gets nondescriptly dumped into Gabrielle Denizen’s system in Managua.

There are only twenty-six of us officially involved in the Mythical Revolution against Worldgov, including me, Dither Todd. They are panicked enough to send two hundred shock troops and eighty million dollars worth of heavy artillery to kill me, a guy in his basement watching shitty reruns. We are very good with computers. We know things they do not want us to know. We say them very loudly.

I am surrounded by angry men with guns who wish me harm. I let them have a glimpse of me, all ruffled blue hair and black glasses. Then I’m gone. “Dither Todd” is a collection of digital information and optical rewriters. I am an invisible ball of data programs and consciousness frequencies with the tools necessary to physiologically manipulate a bio-optic system into “seeing” a physical body that isn’t there. I am an imaginary form of life.

My dataself dissolves and goes out a dozen different ways. They can’t block them all. I’ve gotten enough on Sill, of the gross legal and ethical variety, that he’ll be forcibly removed from office within a few days. He was a high-up in Worldgov, third in line for Man Prime. Eastern Europe will be in chaos for months, but hopefully, they’ll learn something from this.

It’ll take years for my dataself to coagulate back to the point where I’m capable of having a coherent thought. I welcome the rest. Let Gabby change the world for a while.