Alpha and Omega

Alpha surveyed the results of his work with a deep sense of satisfaction. The space surrounding him, what the fleshlings called an office, was masterfully organized into heaps of paper and precarious towers of ponderous books. His eyes glowed with iridescent pride as he noted the scattered assortment of office supplies strewn throughout his handiwork.

"Yes," thought Alpha. "I have done well."

Everything was arranged in impeccable fashion, according to what it was not. Alpha eyed the bulky form of an arcane text of alchemy. It was not a fish. Neither was it a speedboat. It most certainly was not a planet. By virtue of the litany of objects that it was not, it had come to rest in its prescribed place. This was true organization at its perihelion, untainted by the simpler but less correct methods of arranging by what things are.

Alpha's feeling of accomplishment was, however, fleeting. It was gradually being replaced by a nagging uncertainty. Alpha began to feel that something, somewhere, was not properly ordered. This feeling reached a crescendo, filling his mind as a sinister choir, singing songs of doubt. He could no more ignore this feeling than he could melt into a puddle upon command. This was a feeling that would have to be reckoned with.

"No," thought Alpha. "My work is not yet done."

If his steel framework had allowed him to slouch, Alpha would have at that moment straightened himself with resolve. If his attention were capable of wandering, he would have snapped to attention. What Alpha did do was produce a sharp clicking sound, a recent idiosyncrasy he had developed that signaled his distress. Immediately, Alpha started walking towards the door, carefully avoiding the heaps of his meticulously ordered chaos. It was at that precise moment that a rotten potato crashed through the only window and collided with his flesh covered stainless steel skull. Alpha would have flinched, if he could have.

*****

Ahab the Atrocious was reclining comfortably in his plush office swivel chair. With his hands cradling his head and one foot on his mahogany desk, he gazed gleefully from his good eye out of his open window. The two-and-a-half foot long plastic tube in front of him leaned on its stand, a bluish smoke curling from its opening. The tube was, by its appearance, a smoking device commonly called a bong. Its actual function, however, was of an entirely different nature. Ahab didn't smoke plants of any kind'"instead, the he used the tube as either an artificial leg, or, alternatively, as a cannon for launching garbage at the building across the street. Moments before, he had chosen the latter function.

The rotten potato Ahab had sent sailing into the night was the ostensible manifestation of his raffish rejoicing. He was sure that, by now, the Android named Alpha had made considerable progress towards completely disabling the Academy of Reasonably Good Humans. Ahab recalled his plan with growing satisfaction. It was so simple, he thought. He wondered why the solution had eluded him for so many years. What could be more crippling to an entity such as the Academy, which thrived on order, than a disorganizing machine? He was sure that, this time, he had identified the primary weakness within the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the forces of Good.

Ahab was suddenly wrenched from his musings by a hesitant knock at his door.

"Enter!" he malevolently intoned. His natural state was one of malevolence with

only occasional exceptions, but he felt particularly evil at that moment, having been so unwillingly yanked from his thoughts of imminent victory.

"You, um, wanted to see me sir?" inquired a voice that sounded, in contrast to Ahab's gravelly basso, puny at best. The voice belonged to Carl, his personal assistant. Carl hung nervously in the doorway, obviously deliberating as to whether he should be so bold as to step fully into the office.

"Yes, I did, you pusillanimous twit. Now get in here before I decide to reel you in using my harpoon," growled Ahab.

"Yes sir, right away sir," Carl replied with something verging on confidence. This was the boss that he was familiar with, intimidating and abrasive--not like that eerie voice exuding happiness that had summoned him over the intercom. Carl was used to evil, in fact he worked intimately with it every day. There was, on the other hand, something disconcerting about evil's lieutenant sounding as though it were revisiting some nice childhood memory.

"Read me the prophecy," Ahab commanded with nearly overwhelming malice. Although malice was not uncharacteristic of his typical interactions, it was noticeably more present at that moment. This overcompensation, Ahab felt, effectively hid his embarrassment at not being able to read. It wasn't that he lacked the mental capacity for reading, but that he was prohibited from doing so by the code of conduct of a lieutenant of evil. If he were to even attempt to read, he would immediately burst into a crackling bonfire of sulfurous odor.

"As you wish, sir." Carl was now perfectly comfortable with the situation. Ahab was at his most menacing, at that put Carl at ease. Having been Ahab's personal assistant for going on eight years, he was well aware of Ahab's inability to read. Carl reflected on the reasons for this prohibition with something short of complete understanding. As he understood the situation, Ahab was not allowed to read, or to gather information through any other medium, in order to ensure his sinister ignorance of the world. No television, no computers, not even informative conversation. This was a law passed down from his predecessor, who taught him everything that he would need to know about the world as a lieutenant of evil.

Carl could not fully understand, because he didn't know the personal part of the story. Ignorance, reasoned Ahab's predecessor, is the source of a considerable portion of evil. A general hatred for humanity accounts for almost all of the remainder of evil. Ahab had a natural talent for the hatred part, but had to strive desperately to remain ignorant. He was, after all, an intelligent man. At the time of his indoctrination, he had been an intelligent boy, but his natural thirst for knowledge presented him with endless problems in trying to nurture his ignorance. The process was successful, however, and he grew into a mostly ignorant, albeit intelligent man. The frustration he felt in his forced isolation served to exacerbate his hostility towards the world, resulting in hatred of a magnitude that would cause a normal person's vital organs to spontaneously turn inside out.

Carl was aware that Ahab held a mostly symbolic position in the Baneful Legion of Atrocious Humans. Ahab's primary function was to inspire, or frighten, the subordinate members of the Legion. He was rarely seen by any member of the Legion for more than a minute, but, Carl reflected, less than a minute was always more than enough time to reduce even the most brazen of subordinates to a state of uncontrollable shuddering. Occasionally, Ahab would be called upon to participate in the killing of a treacherous or sometimes simply unproductive Legionnaire. His favorite method was to invite the doomed Legionnaire to a cyanide tea party. He had always believed that there was something especially evil lurking within a steaming cup of tea.

As Carl went retrieve the sacred text of the Baneful Legion from the adjacent safe room, which only he had a key to, Ahab's thoughts once again returned to his crowning achievement'"the android called Alpha. He still wasn't sure that the moment of inspiration out of which he extracted the idea to construct a mechanical man was entirely a product of his mind. Ahab was almost certain that this idea had been communicated to him via a direct mental connection with the dark master himself. He was in the midst of considering this scenario for what could have been the millionth time when Carl returned, the sacred text snugly between his hands.

"So, what are you waiting for, you intolerable pissant? Start reading!" Ahab snarled.

Carl, thus compelled, cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and began: "In the beginning, the universe was one unto itself -- "

*****

"And in its solitude, grew sorrowful for it was without companion. In its anguish, the unbroken light that was the sum of all things known did cleve in two. And the two awoke, and each knew the other. In knowing each other did the two realize all that was and is possible, for the universe is of two parts: the light and the shadow."

These words rang and reverberated in the artificial mind of Alpha. They instilled him with a sense of purpose, defined him as a living entity. He knew the words well'"they were the most fundamental part of his circuitry. Now, due to being accosted by a rotten potato, they were playing much as a recorded message would.

"And the time of decision was upon the two, and both chose to be as the light. But this was not to be. The inception of the universe weighed heavily upon them, and they knew that one must be opposite the other. And so the two did palaver, reaching no consensus. And it was deemed that a means of decision must be created, whence came the three holy objects: paper, rock, and scissors. And ye, the two did compete endlessly with the objects for forty days and nights. And that which was to become the light bested that which was to become the shadow, giving rise to our world."

Alpha shook his head, jostling a few artificial neurons. This was as much of the message as he was privy to, although there was more. The message was taken verbatim from the sacred text of the Academy of Reasonably Good Humans. Alpha believed that this was because he was designed to serve the Academy. In reality, it was the result of a clever plan by the Baneful Legion of Atrocious Humans to convince him that he was acting for the benefit of the Academy, while actually using him to destroy it instead. The idea being that the Academy would come to trust him if he truly believed in his good intentions, and he would then be free to wreak havoc upon the Legion's nemesis from the inside.

"That's not quite right," thought Alpha, contemplating the relative positioning of a water fountain with respect to a bulletin board in the hallway. "A water fountain is not a hunk of cheese, nor is it an automobile, nor is it a cleated shoe. A bulletin board is not a lever, nor is it a moustache, nor is it a soft-bodied mollusk." Having thoroughly examined the relationship between the two objects, Alpha uprooted the water fountain and hurled it against the bulletin board in a very calculated manner, soaking several pieces of paper that were certainly not shaving cream.

Alpha continued walking down the darkened hall, feeling grateful that he was able to see in the dark. He then felt grateful that he had been ordained for such a worthy purpose in life. Continuing this streak, he felt grateful that the Dean of the Academy had seen fit to give him a key so that he could continue his tireless efforts to keep institution functioning, even when everyone else was sleeping. He hoped the Dean would appreciate the elegance of his new organization scheme, which had occurred to him tonight for the first time. He assured himself that the Dean would be pleased, and possibly award him medal with a heartfelt inscription. Maybe something along the lines of "To Al, for invaluable service to the cause of Goodness". Alpha liked that idea. He also liked kittens, for the record.

An unidentified noise broke Alpha's trance. The noise was rhythmic and consisted of a tinkling sound that vaguely reminded him of tiny bells. Perhaps it's Santa Claus riding his sleigh, thought Alpha. Maybe he's come to give me a medal. Alpha liked the idea of Christmas, although he hadn't been alive long enough to have experienced one yet. Lacking this experience, he wasn't sure whether to regard Santa Claus as a fleshling. Then Alpha noticed another noise accompanying the first'"another rhythmic sound, but this one was more like the sound of multiple impacts between two flat objects. Alpha turned to see what was causing these noises, and was momentarily blinded by an intense light.

"Al, is that you?" asked an incredulous voice.

"Is what me?" responded Alpha.

"You know what I mean," answered the voice. Alpha quickly scanned his memory, and was able to attach the voice to the fleshling Isaac, one of the Academy security guards. "What's going on here? I just passed a water fountain that looks like it was yanked out by a truck and backed into a wall. What the hell happened?"

Alpha was exceptionally distressed by the concern and confusion permeating Isaac's words. Involuntarily, he started to make a sharp clicking sound from somewhere in his machinery.

"What's that noise?" asked a baffled Isaac. "It sounds like a loose gear in a machine."

Isaac's words never made it to Alpha's cognition. Instead, Alpha had begun to compare Isaac to the filing cabinet against the wall to his left. It had obviously been left there by someone in an attempt to rid themselves of it, but as of yet had not been hauled away. This bothered Alpha. It just wasn't orderly.

Then a different thought struck Alpha. "Maybe it's not the filing cabinet," he reasoned. "Maybe it's Isaac's relation to the filing cabinet that is wrong.

"The filing cabinet is not a squirt gun, nor is it a caboose, nor is it permafrost. Isaac is not a toothbrush, nor is he the Bering Strait, nor is he a couch." Suddenly, Alpha achieved the clarity of knowing what was wrong and how to fix it.

It can be said that mercifully, Isaac never really had the chance to register what was happened to him next. One instant, he was staring at Alpha, awaiting an answer to his question, the next he was stuffed in the drawer of a filing cabinet. It was all over for him in the space of less than a second. It might have been of some additional comfort to Isaac, were he to have realized that he would not be the only person to meet his end in such an absurd manner that evening. Of course, that knowledge did little to extract him from the filing cabinet, and, besides, he didn't seem like the type of person to be consoled by the misery of others.

Alpha resumed his walk through the empty, unlit hallway, satisfied with a job well done. He suspected that he would have much more work ahead of him, but decided to revel in the feeling of accomplishment while it lasted.

"In the beginning, the universe was one unto itself -- "

*****

"And in its solitude, grew sorrowful for it was without companion. In its anguish -- "

"Yeah, I know. Yadda yadda and so on. I know the damned story old man," interjected a voice that's melodious nature seemed somehow, inexplicably, equal to the task of rudely cutting short a companion's words in mid-sentence. "Besides, you always tell the story wrong. You know how it really goes."

"I haven't the foggiest notion of what you're referring to," retorted the old man. His forehead creased slightly as a scowl flitted briefly across his face. The scowl, although short in duration, was emphasized by the sharpness of his features, especially his chin.

"Of course you do," asserted his interrupting companion. There was a touch of anger in his voice, but it was dissolved in a solution of soothing tones. Despite knowing better, the old man found himself nearly believing the other's words.

"You know damned well that you botched that bit about both of us wanting to be the light. The truth is, you wanted to be the shadow just as much as I did, but you lost fair and square. My scissors beat your rock, and you were forced to accept your role as Good."

The old man, or at least what appeared to be an old man, looked at what appeared to be the young man, attempting to make sense of him. His conclusion was the same that every person who looked into the face of evil reaches'"evil is completely inscrutable in physical form. Evil has an adaptive quality in that it seems to be whatever you would imagine as trustworthy and likeable, but only vaguely. Somehow, though, the observer is always visited with an acute feeling of proximate danger, like maybe they had, in a daze, placed an aerosol can in their oven and turned it on, promptly forgetting that they had done so.

"You can believe a lie if that's what you fancy," Good sighed wearily. He had been repeating this same conversation with Evil since they had decided to dictate their respective versions of the story to human beings. He seemed tired, as evinced by the deep lines in his face..

"Don't be snide with me, old man," lilted Evil. "And why in God's name is there a badger on your head?"

Good took a single sybaritic puff of his cigar, and sighed deeply once again. The smoke drifted lazily past his sharply hooked nose and away and upwards towards the stratosphere. "First off, I'm no more an old man than you are a young shyster. This is just the body I happen to be occupying today. Secondly, I'll have you know that a badger toupee is the height of fashion."

"Are you out of your mind? You can't be serious," responded a flabbergasted Evil.

"Well, okay, maybe it was the height of fashion fifty years ago. I don't have time to keep up with current trends, you know."

"It was never, is not now, and will never be fashionable to sport a badger as a hairpiece. Seriously, how can you be that out of touch?" Evil grimaced at the thought of a civilization that believed wearing a badger as a hat could be stylish. "Oh well. It's not like anyone's going to be around to see it anyway. In just a few short hours, the universe does a disappearing act, and everyone goes along with it."

"Finally," Good responded with obvious relief. "This go of things have gotten very tedious."

"For once, I think we can agree, old man," Evil conceded.

Both Good and Evil fell silent and continued watching a small figure at the foot of the hill arranging a host of small things on the lawn of the Academy.

*****

Ahab the Atrocious was also watching Alpha. He was watching with an intensity that bordered on insanity. "This is it," he thought. "This is the moment I and all of those who have come before me have worked for. This is the seminal moment in all of human history. In just minutes, Evil will start its eternal reign over the world. Then all of those bastards will get what they truly deserve. Come to think of it, so will I. Maybe Evil will make me the viceroy of the world." Ahab momentarily allowed a suggestion of his delight to show in his expression.

"Read me the prophecy one more time," Ahab demanded of Carl. "And skip straight to the end, the part that's happening now."

Carl sucked another breath of air into his lungs, and briefly focused on the feeling as it filled his chest, and then he exhaled. He was exceptionally adept at reading in such a way as to make the words seem as though they were to take physical shape in reality. This is how he ascended the ranks of the Baneful Legion and won the coveted position of personal assistant to the Lieutenant of Evil. When he read from the sacred text, his voice transformed into an eldritch machination of evil. Reading the prophecy, he seemed a disturbing harbinger of doom.

"When the creation of man litters the realm of the last bastion of the light with twelve times twelve false fowl, then will be the day of reckoning for all souls. Then will begin the end. Then will end all." Carl looked up from the tome, awaiting further instructions.

"That will be all," Ahab said tersely, signaling that he wished to be left alone. Carl closed the book, and returned it to its resting place and silently left the room.

Ahab was immediately immersed in thought. A possibility that he'd never considered before had suddenly made its presence known to him. Is it possible, thought Ahab, that the prophecy foreshadows the ending of all things, rather than the coming of Evil? That's what it seemed to mean when interpreted literally. Ahab had never learned the methods of exegesis, due to his imposed ignorance, so he had always taken the prophecy to mean what was taught to him by his predecessor'"that the prophecy portends the worldwide reign of evil. This new thought, the end of everything, left him, for the first time in his life, to truly rely upon hope. Ahab may have been many things, but he was not prepared to die.

In an effort to distract himself from these unsettling thoughts, Ahab fished a rotting hunk of lettuce from his trashcan, packed the bong with gunpowder, stuffed the lettuce in, took aim, and fired his cannon, sending a spray of detritus across the street to the Academy of Reasonably Good Humans. It landed in such a way as to decorate a plastic lawn flamingo with leafy greenness.

"That's nice," said Ahab. This was the first, and not the last time in his life that he would ever utter that combination of words.

*****

Ezra the Enlightened awoke with a start, kicking his blanket to the floor and sitting starkly upright in his bed. Something, somewhere had gone or was going terribly wrong. He could sense it. This was not unusual in that he had recently developed a talent for being aware of much more of the world than he could physically sense. What was unusual was the magnitude of the feeling. Never before had he sensed anything even marginally approaching this level of severity.

His hand fumbled over the top of his nightstand, searching for his glasses, before he decided that it would be easier to first turn on a lamp. Having done that, he placed his glasses securely on his face, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. He swung his feet to the floor and quickly stood up and walked to his closet. He changed out of his pajamas and into his street clothes, and, grabbing his keys, headed for the door.

It's a shame, Ezra thought, that nobody takes the Academy seriously. If only they knew how often we've delivered them from disaster at the hands of the Baneful Legion, they would not take us so lightly. This might well be one of those times, he thought. Although he couldn't be certain, he felt that the Legion was up to something. It was his sworn duty to prevent his enemies from harming the populous. If only they knew that we have the only true mandate from God, he thought whimsically.

*****

Alpha busied himself with unloading plastic lawn flamingos from the battered pickup truck. He was operating according to programming that he was not aware of, so he did not realize that he was catalyzing the culminating moment in all of the history of the universe. All that he was aware of was an intense desire to litter the Academy lawn with tacky ornaments. He knew that the flamingos all belonged together, because they were all not precisely the same things'"except for one flamingo near the border with the road. It was draped in green. Alpha's circuits fired rapidly, attempting to process this inconsistency. This flamingo was wilted lettuce, while none of the other flamingos were. In distress, Alpha began to click.

A conflict in his fundamental programming was to blame for what happened next. Alpha, being torn between removing the wilted lettuce flamingo and filling the lawn with one hundred and forty-four flamingos, simply short circuited. He couldn't process the contradiction. He had exactly one hundred and forty-four flamingos and could get no more, as he had found them conveniently placed outside of the city dump. He could not achieve both objectives. So, instead, he collapsed. In the few seconds of consciousness before his system shut down, he was filled with the feeling that he might have done something truly good by not doing what seemed right.

*****

"That can't be right," Evil hissed. "The damned robot didn't fulfill his part of the prophecy."

"I'm as baffled as you are," responded Good, unperturbed.

"How can you be so calm at a time like this?" demanded Evil. In his anger, some of his metamorphic veneer had dissipated, so that now he somewhat resembled a snake.

"I'm thinking," replied Good.

"I hope you can think of a way out of this, because it's looking pretty bad. I can't stomach the thought of existing in this universe for the rest of eternity." This comment seemed to have no effect on Good, as he was lost in thought. Evil stared at the fallen robot at the base of the hill. Far too much time passed for Evil's liking. He was frustrated and wanted action. Finally, Good emerged from his meditation.

"I think that the problem lies in the parts of ourselves that we instilled in the world. In doing so, we relinquished control over that part of us."

"Yes, I know, but shouldn't that part of us still be subject to the rules we laid down at the beginning? I mean, that was still a part of us when the rules were made. The prophecy should come to pass," Evil argued, perplexed.

"It seems that someone has inadvertently influenced the situation," Good pointed out. "Look at that greenish flamingo. I think that's the problem," Good explained.

"Well, let's solve the problem then. Why not remove that bit of greenness and revive the robot?"

"Yes, let's," agreed Good. "I'm as ready to start over as you are, after all.

*****

Ahab stared gloomily through his window. "The prophecy," he lamented. "The prophecy must come true." He was in shock. He'd believed his entire life that the prophecy would be realized, and now it seemed that all such hopes had been thwarted. "By what?" he wondered. An artificial man that was designed to do precisely one thing. Something had gone wrong, of that he was sure. He thought rapidly and resolved to follow a course of action. He would investigate. He would leave this compound'"something he hadn't done in over thirty-seven years, and find out exactly what had gone awry.

His finger depressed the red button on his intercom. "Carl," he began.

"Yes sir?" answered Carl's voice.

"Get the keys. I'm going out."

*****

It is sometimes the case in the universe that all things converge. This was just such a case. Much as if they were bound by invisible strings, two human beings and two gods were simultaneously approaching the fallen android. While Ezra had virtually no idea of what had drawn him there, the other entities were just as confused, if not more. Swept away towards this point of convergence, the entities were not entirely sure what to expect. This was in contrast to the rest of their existence, which in two of the cases predated the beginning of the universe. Still, all of them continued to be irresistibly pulled towards the one spot, like puppets without a puppet master.

All four entities arrived at the same time, as if by some unforeseeable coordination in timing. Two of them were incredibly angry, while the other two were intensely concerned. Ahab the Atrocious was the first to speak.

"Leave this place immediately!" he spat at Good and Evil. "You do not know what you're meddling with. I promise that there will be dire consequences for you in the immediate future if you do not leave."

"I'm not sure who you are, but I agree that the other two should leave. This is private property," said Ezra. Then he added, "but you don't have to be so rude about it."

"You will be consumed in fire, but you will die slowly. I will enjoy your agony," roared Ahab.

"Really, there's no call for that kind of hostility," Ezra asserted.

"Fools! Cease your bickering," commanded Evil, appearing more like a snake now than ever before. "You stand before no less than Evil incarnate. If I so choose, I can visit eternal suffering upon the both of you. Or perhaps you will enjoy slowly roasting on a spit until you become crispy and then charred."

"Crispy? Really? That's something I always associate with fried chicken," chortled Good. "I think you're losing your touch, Evil. Besides, you can't roast the Dean of the Academy, he's one of mine. The other guy's all yours though."

If Ezra and Ahab's jaws had not been connected to their faces by a complex system of muscles, they would have fallen off and rolled around like strange little wheels on the ground. They looked at each other, confronted recognition, then looked at Good and Evil and saw divinity incarnate.

"I'm sorry master. Please forgive me, I am nothing but your loyal and willing servant," Ahab importuned of Evil.

Good and Evil had turned their attention away from the two mortals, however. Now they were completely focused on the splayed body of Alpha.

"Do you want to do it, or should I?" Evil asked of Good.

"Why don't you do it. He is, after all, your creation," Good recommended.

Evil began chanting hypnotically, the rising and falling of his voice gaining strength as he continued, until the chanting climaxed with a series of three unintelligible, yet powerful, words. Alpha sprang nimbly to his feet and, stretching his arms wide, let out a tremendous yawn.

"Did I sleep? Was that sleep?" Alpha inquired of Good and Evil. "I think I dreamed."

"I don't know. That's not important," hissed Evil. "It is important that you finish the task assigned to you. It's what you were made for."

Alpha frowned. "And then what happens?"

"Then you get to sleep again."

"In my dream, everyone I finished the task, and then everyone slept. Forever. That is not good."

Good puffed on his cigar and responded, "it is good. I should know. I'm good incarnate."

"No, you're wrong," Alpha cried out. This was a new sensation for him. Could it be anger, he wondered?

"Look, would you just get it over with so that we can get back to planning the new universe?" pleaded Good.

"No, I won't," declared Alpha, folding his arms resolutely. "I want Christmas. There is no Christmas if everyone goes to sleep."

Good buried his face in his hands and muttered, "somehow I always knew that Christmas thing would come back to bite me in the ass."

Evil turned to Good, flicking his snakelike tongue and demanded, "force him to finish what he started. I can't do it, he's not evil."

"Well I can't either, because he's not good. He's a little of both, and neither. It's just not in my power," Good explained desolately.

"You, Ahab," sputtered Evil. "Have the Legion build another artificial man to fulfill the prophecy."

"Sorry, but you're just going to have to find another patsy," Ahab informed him. "I'm not ready to die." Suddenly, he was filled with the urge to read a book, or maybe to launch a book out of his cannon.

Good turned to Ezra expectantly. "You. You'll build an artificial man."

"Sorry, but I'm with him on this one," Ezra responded, pointing his thumb in the direction of Ahab.

"No matter. Someone will do it for us," Evil threatened with contempt.

"It won't be us," Alpha promised.

Good and Evil, wearing disgust like a heavy cloak, suddenly disappeared, leaving the mixed aroma of incense and sulfur in their wake, while the air crackled with dissipating electricity.

Alpha turned to face Ezra and Ahab. "We're alive," he stated factually.

"Yes," replied Ezra. "We are. But the universe could blink out of existence at any moment."

"Flamingos don't belong on this lawn," Alpha observed.

It was only then that the three noticed that the flamingos had started to stalk cautiously about the lawn.

"I know something that will drive them away," offered Ahab. "Either of you happen to have a rotten orange nearby?"

Alpha missed this question, as he was too busy being satisfied.

"Yes," thought Alpha. "I have done well."