"The Absent-minded shall inherit..."

I always listened to the tall tales in the Mare Inebrium. I may not have believed them all, but I did listen. Some folks seemed to have a better stock of stories than others. The old D'rrish Ambassador for one, the Reever for another. Ah, the Reever, immortal and ageless. You've heard of him? He's the Chief Judiciary of the Immortals, the original natives of Bethdish. His job is something like being a policeman, prosecutor, defense attorney, judge, jury, and if necessary executioner. I've heard him say that he's over thirteen million years old. You could learn an awful lot of Bethdish's history by listening to him. But he doesn't come all that often. At least not often enough. The D'rrish, now he's in almost every time I've been here.

I remember one night when the weather was threatening one of those short summer squalls that Bethdish is noted for. I had just gotten in off of a transport from a buying trip. It felt good to be back in City of Lights. Even back then I was beginning to think of Bethdish as home. When I got to the Mare Inebrium for a drink or three to celebrate being home again, I found Max the bartender deep in nervous conversation with the old D'rrish, Kazsh-ak Tier. Since I'm a nosy type I went over and butted in, besides I like Kazsh-ak's stories. Kazsh-ak's antenna were drooping and Max looked as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. They were both looking forlornly at a strange little box that lay on the bar between them. It seemed to be rough-cut plastic about four inches square and an inch thick with a single control button protruding. I could see nicks and scratches on it's surface, as if it had been carelessly handled.

" What should we do with it?" asked Max in hushed voice.

"How should I know?" rumbled the D'rrish. "I'm no scientist. Besides, I'm to frightened to think straight at the moment."

Right away I was worried. I mean, anything that could scare that giant scorpion had to be plenty dangerous.

"What's going on?" I asked, carefully keeping my voice quiet. "What's this box and whose is it?"

"What it is..." started Max.

"I hardly know where to begin." added Kazsh-ak Tier. Just as it was hard to imagine him frightened, it was hard to imagine him at a loss for words. I began to wish I was still back on the ship, far far away.

"We don't know for sure what it is," Max said reluctantly. "That fellow Camfortt brought it in and forgot it when he left."

"Have you ever met Camfortt?" asked Kazsh-ak. When I shook my head "no" the D'rrish continued. "He seldom comes in, I am not surprised you have not met. He is an inventor of sorts. Rather less disciplined than most. Actually, he's rather sloppy for such an intelligent being. I fail to understand why he has not accidentally blown his laboratory high-sky."

"Sky-high you mean," said Max, "I think that language chip in your translator has vibrated loose again. Better have it looked at before you go to another diplomatic meeting. You say the wrong thing then and there'll be hell to pay."

" Lord yes, all that paperwork. I will see to it as soon as I go back to the Embassy. But we digress. Camfortt has worked quite a bit for the military, as well as half a dozen corporations. He usually has several contracts to fulfill at the same time. He always brings his projects in under budget, but I wonder if that isn't because he simply can't remember for which job any particular funds were allocated."

"But he came in today?" I asked, more to prod the D'rrish into getting to the point than anything.

"Yeah," said Max. "Brought that with him, too." indicating the harmless-looking box on the bar.

"He had finished it, you see." said Kazsh-ak, "and wanted a few drinks before he delivered it to the client."

"And promptly forgot it when he left. I see," I said.

"No, it's worse than that!" interrupted Max, "He forgot what it was before he finished building it!"

"What, how could he finish it if he didn't know what it was anymore?" I was getting really worried now.

"To make matters worse," rumbled the D'rrish, "He was working on several projects simultaneously. By the time he had cobbled this box up, he had gotten hopelessly confused as to what it did, who paid for it, and where it was to be delivered. He came in here to try and remember all that."

"What happened then?"

"We talked to him for an hour or two, he had too many drinks and seemed on the verge of collapse."

"Yeah," said Max. "I had Trixie set up a room upstairs for him to sleep it off and everything, then BAM! Up he jumps and runs out the door. A couple of the local Cops were here off duty and I got them to start looking for him, but I don't know..."

"What were you doing when he ran out?"

"Still talking about the box. Trying to figure out what it was."

"We were listing the projects he had been hired to complete." said Kazsh-ak Tier. "Fascinating really, such genius from such an undisciplined mind." The D'rrish waved his eyestalks gently from side to side sadly.

"Well," I said. "What were they? Maybe we can figure out what the box is from the list."

"There were several," began the D'rrish.

"One was for a terraforming company," added Max. "It was something to precipitate all of the moisture out of a planet's atmosphere at once. Evidently they had bought a planet where it was always raining and wanted to dry it up."

"Another was for someone's military." said Kazsh-ak. "It was a stellar detonator, something to cause an enemy's sun to spontaneously explode."

"That's sick!" I exclaimed. "Nothing but genocide! What government could be trusted with a thing like that?"

"There is more," said Kazsh-ak. "There were several weapons on the list as well as several devices that would make life easier on colony worlds. Food replicators, micro fusion welders, an impenetrable forcefield..."

"Don't forget the Telepathic Telegraph!" added Max.

"And he still couldn't remember?" I asked.

"Maybe he did, " said Max. " He got kind of quiet and I had to make a round of drinks for some Thixar businessman. I had my back to him and he shouted something, jumped off of his bar stool and ran out the door waving his arms around and cursing. I didn't think much of it 'till I got back here and saw Kazsh-ak staring at the box."

"We have no way to tell what he remembered." sighed the D'rrish. "The list was too long and he sat too long in silence before running out."

I sat and looked at button on the box, unable to think of anything else to say. There were too many possibilities, too many chances to guess wrong. Finally I sighed with frustration.

"It could be anything," I said. "Anything at all. Maybe you should put it into the Lost-and-found under the bar before someone thinks it's the remote control for the Video."

"Yeah," said Max. "I'd hate to have someone blow up the sun, trying to get a sports score."

"He'll come back for it," I said. "After all, he can't just forget..." My voice trailed off into silence as I realized that that was exactly what had happened in the first place. I looked at the innocent little box and shuddered.

"He has to come back," said Max plaintively. "He just has to!"

"If he hasn't already forgotten being here today." said Kazsh-ak Tier sadly.

THE END

© 1996 - 2007 By Dan L. Hollifield

Bio: Dan Hollifield, Aphelion's Senior Editor and Publisher, was born in 1957 at almost the same moment that Sputnik II was launched. This seems to have warped his point of view in the fact that he has always been rather a nut on the subject of spaceflight. A life-long SF and F reader, he began scribbling stories for his own amusement and for schoolwork back in the 1960s. His oldest surviving work, carefully preserved by his Mother, is a two-act play about four children finding hidden treasure in a haunted house. He began composing his first attempt at a SF novel in 1987. This manuscript led directly to his "World of Bethdish" short stories and novellas, his "Collector's Museum" series of stories, and the "Mare Inebrium" shared universe series. After having been drug online, kicking and screaming, in 1995 by noted Filksinger and Web-Guru Robert Wynne, he joined Dragon's Lair Webzine as a frequent contributor and later as Assistant Editor. His first e-published story was a Horror short in Dragon's Lair. His fiction has been published in Dragon's Lair Webzine, Titan Webzine, Steel Caves, The Writer's Club, and Aphelion Webzine. He lives with his wife in a tiny brick house near his parent's farm in the howling wilderness that is rural Madison County, Northeast of Athens, Ga. USA. He is an avid collector of firearms, swords, knives, books, and music- both vinyl records and CDs. An amateur musician, he also composes music, lyrics, and Filk as well as having been an artist all his life. One of his oil paintings, done on commission for a local fan, is soon to be featured in a book on Elvis Presley Fan-Art that will be published in England.

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