Section F: Fairy Tales & Physicists

Chapter 32

"Oh, come on."

Exasperation—not fear, not anger, not even surprise. Just exasperation. That was Fields' overriding reaction to having a gun pulled on him by the nerd who was supposed to be busy saving the world—pure, unadulterated, industrial-grade exasperation. "You cannot be serious."

Featherstone blinked. This was clearly not the response he'd been expecting. "What...what do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Fields flopped into a conveniently nearby chair—if Featherstone wanted to shoot him for sitting down, well then, he was tired enough to risk it. "What the hell do you mean, by pulling a gun on me? By clinging to the deluded fantasy you might actually be able to finish whatever the hell it is you hope to achieve with all these crazy schemes of yours? Can't you see it's over, Featherstone? Don't you think you've done enough harm? Caused enough death? Can't you hear the fat lady singing, Frankie-boy? She must be just about ready for the encore by now. Face it—it's over."

"You're wrong!" insisted Featherstone, his tone petulant. "It's not over. Don't say that. There's just been a few setbacks, is all. Some glitches. A few bugs in the code. And I'm good at fixing bugs."

"Ha!" I've really got to stop saying that. "I'll tell you what you're good at, Frankie. You're good at being a dumb-arse. I don't think I've ever met anyone better. Radovic might have been a first-class, A1, despicable arsehole, but he was right about you. You are the stupidest genius in existence."

"Stop it!" demanded Featherstone, the gun he held wavering with the force of his emotion. "Don't say that! You will show me some respect, damn you!"

Taking a leaf out of Britney's playbook, Fields elected to demonstrate his respect via an emphatic, prolonged raspberry. "Blow it out your arse, dipshit."

Clutching his wounded side with one hand, Featherstone stood. "Stop it!" he demanded again, taking a step towards Fields. "You will stop that right now. You will do as I say, you...you...stinkface!"

Expression blank, Fields held his gaze for a moment. And then cracked up. He just couldn't help it. "Stinkface? Stinkface?" he gasped, wiping his eyes. "That's the best you can do? You know Frankie, I don't know that you're really villain material. I think maybe you should stick to quantum cats."

"Be silent!" shouted Featherstone, wincing at the effort. "Of course I'm not a villain." He paused to catch his breath. "I'm doing this for the good of the world. Every great enterprise requires sacrifice—Dr Radovic explained it to me."

"Oh, yeah? Was that before or after he started offing your princess girlfriends?"

"Be quiet!"

"I'm guessing it was probably before he shot you."

"Shut up!" Breathing deeply, one hand pressed to the dressing keeping him alive, the scientist took another step towards Fields. "That was...my fault. I let Dr Radovic down. I brought this on myself. I've been foolish and weak and lacking in resolution. But no longer.

"I know now what I must do. Sitting here, looking out at...at..."—vaguely, he waved his gun at the green-lit vista visible through the shattered windows—"all this, the situation has become clear to me. It's all right there. I have achieved what virtually every scientist before me thought impossible. I have ventured to the very edges of reality. I have wrought wonders both miraculous in nature and staggering in scope—yet my discoveries are marred by the glaring ineptitude of my failures. My softness. And yes—my stupidity.

"So, it is time for a clean slate. Time to wipe away all trace of this debacle. Time to start over, with renewed purpose, with a clear focus and with no more mistakes. It is time to prove I am worthy of both Dr Radovic's trust and the responsibility for setting the world on a better path."