Chapter 16: We played blind man's bluff 'till they stopped the game.

May 10th, 2023, Creston, California - Earth

Oliver pointed to the bookshelf near the bed. “You mentioned you like to read?” The direction was awkward and without subtlety. Ben had said he wanted to adopt a small one and read to him, this was not quite the same thing.

These were not books appropriate for bedtime reading. There were no easy words with phonics or rhyming. No morality plays about friendship, no certainty, no lessons to learn. Ben recognized a few names, they taught a few of them in his department. Hegel, Kant, Smith, Plato. Nope, none of these would be good. His eyes moved to the tiny text on the next shelf. Pynchon, Woolf, Tolstoy. No no no, these books had a weight, he could kill a man if he threw one. Where were the ones with pictures?

“I've been reading this new one.” Oliver grabbed a large book that was found level to the bed, the rest of the shelf fell lazily into the absent space, The People's History being squished at an angle by a massive eight-hundred-page volume by Gibbon.

“So, it's a Terran author. He is starting this new field of study called comparative Whig history, and it looks at the lives of the important people of the twentieth century on both worlds, and shows how their lives were different. It's supposed to be five volumes, but I can't imagine it gets easier as he does the next part, and this is the first twenty years.” The paperback flopped a bit as Oliver waved it towards Ben.

“Like, I had always assumed Franz Ferdinand had made a wrong turn, and that's what caused World War One, like Terra was simply the outcome of turning left instead of right, but no, he paints a case that the war on Earth was inevitable, and the crisis point was earlier, in nineteen hundred, when Franz Joseph refuses to attend his nephew's wedding. On Terra the Emperor's health declined rapidly as he had picked some virus, and Ferdinand begins the Federation project in nineteen oh' six.”

Every word Benjamin heard was gibberish. References to people, places, dates, counterfactuals, for two worlds that were not his own. What was a “World War One”? How many “World Wars” did Earth have?

“OH! And my favorite chapter is just called 'Aye and Doubleyou', like the root beer place. He doesn't even use their names, just the initials. And it's written like a Koran translation, with the Earth history on the left side and the Terran on the right. And he just perfectly lines up the tragedy of these two men's lives, which is identical up until nineteen fifteen. Winston on Terra falls out of government just like on Earth, and ends up retiring and taking up art. His stuff is outside the trends of the era, and he never really makes a splash. Meanwhile, 'Aye' gets into some art school and doesn't make a name for himself either, creating these dreadful landscapes without proportions because he lacks skill, and the Austrian Empire is completely different in those first two decades. The focus is obviously on the Earth side, Terran readers would be unaware of how important these men would be. The final part explodes into action as it details the gas attack that injures 'Aye', really giving details of the horrors of World War One. While on Terra, there's this small art expo in Belgium where the two unremarkable men put up their works. And that was it, no one ever heard from the two ever again, though Zang thinks the two had met at the conference, because he managed to track down a photograph from the exhibit.”

Whig history. Great men shaping the world through their personality and inspiration. You could hear Benjamin eyes detach from his brain in disappointment, floating away in his head. This was populist entertainment being propped up as serious research. Oliver was a child trying to impress his parent with a drawing done in a crayon. He flipped through the book Oliver handed him; the letters were too tiny to read anyway.

Benjamin spoke quietly to him, gently to let him down. It was like the advice of his father, “Oliver, it isn't a good idea to read non-fiction before bed. Fiction helps bring the mind to a meditative and restful state and non-fiction winds it up.”

There was no voice involved. It was just good advice. Oliver's shields had gone up, every muscle had tensed, and then he realized Ben was just being nice. Maybe he was just tired and didn't want to read or talk about anything serious any longer.

Ben tried again, “Sleep is something you do every day, and in some ways your whole day is building towards this wonderful experience. You earn your dreams through the investment of your work into the day. It is the great reset, a place you can practice real life safely, a good night’s rest is needed to make your next day start off perfectly.”

Still nothing. Oliver relaxed and closed his eyes, taking a large breath out. That made sense. Too bad we only have twenty-four hours in a day, more sleep would be nice.

It turned on, “That is why I want you to always go into bed with a plan.”

No longer would Oliver be the type of person who would stay up until he was tired. He would set a bedtime and try to stick to it. He would make sure he had fiction prepared, so his mind would be meditative and filled with nice dreams. He would always brush and floss and dress in his pajamas. He would plan his meals and liquids to minimize disturbance and chance he'd wake. Perhaps even keep a journal just so he could record the last-minute thoughts for the day. Sleep, properly planned, was now a priority in his life.

Oliver could feel the shift, like a block moving in his head. He knew what Ben had done. He knew Ben had seen him drop his defenses and slipped in a change. Oliver shook his head, but it was stuck. He had always wanted to sleep more, and now, his mind was just letting him get what he wanted, just a small swap of his tower in his brain for where things were prioritized.

He narrowed his eyes before addressing Benjamin, “I thought we had agreed to not use the voice on each other. That we would show each other respect.”

“Hmm... I seem to remember one party in a repeated decision conflict announcing unilateral disarmament. Not exactly a wise strategy when we should tit-for-tat each other.”

“You already know about game theory.” Ben had known enough to pretend to be ignorant, to let Oliver believe he had one over the giant the whole time, that he was the more traveled and aware man. Even worse than Ben using the voice to change him, was finding out his plan to make him a scholar of great admiration was doomed.

“Yes, we don't call it that, but we have something like that.” He moved the blanket up some to tuck Oliver in. “It means a lot to me you thought I am good enough to take credit for something that important.”

“But how could you do that? Doesn't it bother you, to just change a person into something...” Oliver was incredulous.

“You made it so I couldn't lie to you.” Benjamin gave a sharp complaint.

“No. I made it so you couldn't be intellectually dishonest to me, there's a difference. You made it so I am tactful around people who mispronounce words and,” Oliver was unsure how to continue.

What was his complaint, that he had a bedtime now? That he was getting what he always wanted but his adult desires had denied him.

“And that I have to get plenty of sleep... and” He realized it was petty, not worth holding a grudge over, “No, you're right. There are worse things we could do to each other and we're just doing some nipping, play fighting.”

Benjamin had won, his boy had admitted he was right, and more so he had learned a lesson. He was not sure what the lesson was, but his baby had become better from the experience. It felt good, not like playing airplane or cooking macaroni good, but a different good. Like seeing a paper he wrote in the journal, or when he finished grading for a semester. He wanted to feel like this all the time.

Plus, no more complaining about bedtime, Oliver was going to be so cooperative. That was worth it right? He did promise he would read, since the boy handed him a victory, now he was obligated read to Oliver.

“Do you have any other books, but smaller? It's been a long day for me.” Oliver snuck an arm out of the blanket and reached through the bookshelf. It pulled back a small flat screen that was plugged into the wall. He carefully activated it, illuminating the room in a soft blue white for a second, and Benjamin watched as he entered a password on the front. One, Two, Zero, Seven, One, Six, easy enough to remember. The seventh of Fructidor in the sixteenth year of King Louis's reign. - Unification day, the real one, not the fake one pushed out to the end of Brumaire for commercial reasons.

“I put a work credit card in there, so, just buy whatever you want I can get it expensed. This website has everything from 'Aye to Zee', see the arrow in the name. Careful with the tablet it's meant for a light touch.” He handed the flat device to Ben. A whole website named after his people! Convergence, just like Oliver had said. Ben hands had precision and delicacy, as they were made to handle babies, and this tablet, which had dwarfed Oliver's head, was about the size of his entire hand. Oliver had even turned on some handicap options around text and pressing to make it easier for the giant.

This one. It said it was brand new. It was colorful, with a cover showing a cat and a fish and bears hopping on bears. It was close to something on his own planet. It was an anthology of short pieces, the author's full oeuvre. A brand-new release after some controversy from his estate around censorship and modernization.

Benjamin almost giggled with excitement as the book started to load on the title portal. This tablet was magic, the entire knowledge of Oliver's species just freely given to him, and a computer so easy to handle a baby could use it. They had computers on Amazonia, just like with Earth everyone wanted to be a computer science major, but it was different. Computers were for production not entertainment. The internet was filled with plain websites with maybe one or two static images, chat rooms, message boards, and file transfer servers.

He primarily used the internet for e-mail. To get the most out of a computer you needed a text interface. The most advanced website he ever visited was Netflix. In the world of software, the only acronym that mattered was NOW – as in the NOW Network that owned Netflix and us-box, and those were aimed at a less sophisticated audience. The thing he held in his hand, access to a planet wide logistics network that could deliver anything imaginable with same day free shipping was impossible on Amazonia.

Earth must truly be an advanced people. Benjamin allowed his mind to wonder what miracles Earth's robotic nannies and hologram technology must be capable of. Oliver hadn't even shown so much as a robotic vacuum, perhaps it was like with him and TV – something for the hobbits and children of this world and not of much interest for grownups.

“I'm going to read you this one.” He turned the screen for Oliver, so he could follow along. Oliver's wince lasted a few seconds before he shook and refocused.

“It's fine... it's fine, if that's what you need. I understand this is where you're at. Um... Ben, can I talk to you about this actually?”

“Have you read this before?” Benjamin wondered he if should look for something else.

“It's been a few decades, those are classics. No, um, I've looked at what you call literature on your planet aimed at the” He was not sure how to address this, “ones with conditions. Or maybe your own children, I'm not sure, the media tends to blend them. I don't want to say they're pointless, but the stories don't really go anywhere and they're not really about anything.”

Literary criticism? Analysis? Stories are stories, they were just something you read before bed and then you had fun dreams.

“Like, usually there's a plot, but it's like the phonics and rhyming books in that collection you just bought, they just exist to exist. We do things differently on Earth.”

What had he just downloaded? Did they start children off on literature from the beginning? Like instead of potty training or walking, they immediately got them focused on the depth of possibility of art and music and – Ben's eyes turned and saw the shelf with thick works of fiction, each one a thousand pages of terse complexity. Only bigs wrote books this long. Were the Earthlings brazen enough to expose their children to Shakespeare by the age of five? Could a five-year-old handle such a thing?

“So, um, how about we look at one of the ones with a life lesson, like Sneetches or the Lorax. I want you to read it with a critical eye, like a real work, and maybe we can discuss the lesson afterwards, like why it's important we want them to learn that lesson early.” Oliver had a memory of another work, Horton. It might break the old man to learn 'all people should be treated equally regardless of size' was a lesson taught to babies on a world without giants.

Ben read with passion and rhythm, taking a slow pace, and carefully watching Oliver's eyes fall with each paragraph. His eyes meandered onto the shelf again, 'Das Kapital', 'The Theory of Moral Sentiments'. The message of this story was obvious.

The power of market forces must be so strong on this world it can overcome racism. Only by flattening all identities and catering to the consumerist vein can we truly escape our differences, to level past the materialism and sectarian divides, and learn a greater equality and happiness. Just as you, Mr. Two Year Old, will be growing up into a larger world, so too is society in its struggle to the utopian – moving through capitalism to a final end state.

What a strange message to teach children. If a three-year-old could handle intersectional Marxist literature, then what could a former adult who was forced to pretend to be a three-year-old do? The littles of old thought maturosis was a gift, and perhaps under the right conditions, with the right training and the right direction, even the worst students of his could have been …

No, they were babies. They could not count to ten, or say their alphabet, or control down below, but how much of that was the Amazons and how much of it was the littles? How much of their condition was society, and how much was it a physical change?

Collins was right. The greatest discovery in the history of the world and because Benjamin only wanted a baby boy forever, he gave it up. And now, day one, he had just done everything he had ever wanted, gave his boy his favorite meal, hugged him, and loved him, and protected him, and read to him, and gave him advice like a good dad should, and it was not enough. He wanted more.

The soft sleeping breath of Oliver filled the room, dragging his thoughts back to reality. Oliver was not his son either, he was a grown man with his own goals and ideas and accomplishments. He looked out the window into darkness, this was not his world. He was not tired, but today was his first time being a parent and he felt he should have been. He wanted to be a man exhausted.

He went to the light and flipped it off, closing the door, and made his way back to the couch. He read the rest of his new book, which did not take him long. He liked the one with the flower and the elephant, and he'd have to make a point to share it next semester, the small students would get a kick out of it.

It would be a bit cruel. A story from Earth, the paradise. The little's own version of the lost city of Atlantis. Where no one judged people for being too big or too small. Where having a medical condition was just a medical condition and not a one-way ticket to babyhood. The land where even children were expected to learn to think like grownups, to learn to appreciate art and literature like an adult. It is wrong to treat an adult like a child, if real children are capable of thinking like an adult.

Benjamin had been given a once in a lifetime opportunity to see the universe in a new way, to learn and be improved by it, and he had wasted it on his own damn needs to have a tiny one. His own dad had raised him better, and he was just as bad as the rest of his society. Every single little would have given anything to be here, on Earth, the real land of the tiny people, even for just one day, and he had spent it crying and wanting to go back. He should have taken this as an opportunity to get outside himself, to learn a new way of thinking, and to become more.

He heard a soft chime and dong as a grandfather clock across the living room ticked twelve, he looked at it with confusion. It dragged him out of his thoughts, and he stared at the black screen across from the couch. It was bigger than the one he had back home. He stood up and looked at the console, carefully feeling the wood and then he saw it. He would have to kneel down low to access it. A Blu-Ray player. Why had Oliver made such a big point about this? He opened the drawer below the player and saw the titles. Firefly, Star Trek, Star Wars, but one had been placed right on top. It was still wrapped in plastic and unopened.

'Necessary Evil'. He stood up with it and tried to squint at the back, moving the box back and forth to barely make out words. 'July Twentieth, Two Thousand and Eight, the story of the opening day of the war to liberate Terra, and the bomber which got through, with interviews with Captain Swift.'

The front had Oliver and five other littles, their aviators and caps obscuring their blurry faces. He recognized Oliver, standing in front of some old timey plane. Well Ben had seen their paradise. He had seen the good the small ones could do. What was the flip side of the coin?

The urge was too great, he peeled the plastic and threw it to the ground. He clicked open the case and carefully took out the disc. The silver plastic reflecting his own face between rainbow sparkles. With the care of putting a fresh diaper on a newborn, he opened the disc tray and placed the movie in. The TV turned on automatically. Everything autoplayed.

Oliver slowly crept back into his room. He had been waiting, hoping the hints from earlier in the day would lead to this, that the monster's own curiosity would be his undoing. Benjamin had taken the bait. Oliver slid off the medical garment and disposed of the unused cloth in a small waste bin in his room. He made sure the soundproofed door was closed before going to sleep for the day.