Chapter 31- That's the difference, baby, between your life and mine

23 Floréal Year CCXXXI, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia - Amazonia

Oliver had nearly needed to vomit when he was in the restroom, but managed to recover himself, and after a break the two were ready for their final destination on campus. Benjamin insisted on stopping and talking to every giant along the way, forcing Oliver to quickly reacclimate to his prior rapturous and jubilant facade. Every smile, laugh, and charming dance was torture for the small man after having witnessed firsthand an abduction and debasement of man. Between pedestrian encounters, Oliver tightly held Ben’s hand with his left, and his stuffed whale with his right.

As they approached the door to the Vice Rector’s office, Benjamin insisted on greeting the elderly secretary as well. She stood over Oliver at just under ten feet, and she was almost certainly past the minimum age of retirement, her wrinkled face and short white hair suggesting to Oliver she was nearly twice his age. Her desk had a corded phone, and her computer made Ben’s look state of the art.

“He’s perfect Ben. I can’t believe you found one, I never thought you would, but here he is, and he’s adorable.” She had reached down to pinch Oliver’s cheeks, and the man took it with a smile. This was not the most embarrassing thing he had done as a diplomat.

“The Vee aRrr’s in today, right?” Benjamin replied, trying to look past the desk into his friend’s office.

“Of course, of course, but before he can meet with you, I need to see more of your new little, ‘Oliver’ was it right?”

Oliver took a step back and said, “Yup. One and only me. Hey, let me show you something. I bet you’ve never seen someone do this before.” Oliver gave himself a few more feet of space and put down his animal. In a smooth downward motion into this left, he arced his whole body and let gravity and force direct his hands to the ground over his head. In a moment he was upside down, his pull-up showing to the world and his vest falling to his hair, and then he gracefully continued the motion back to his feet.

The old lady clapped her hands quickly and gave a large gasp of air, “Oh my goodness! So talented.” It was the third time this week she had seen such a performance, but Oliver had at least landed on his feet unlike the other two littles who tried it. She pulled open her desk and grabbed a wrapped confection. It was five inches long and two inches wide. The VR did not tolerate the needs of the small ones, there were no changing tables or small desks for them. She always knew what they needed and kept a small stash on hand to comfort any tiny one that wandered through the rare times they needed to meet the rector.

Oliver eagerly grabbed towards it, but Ben had it in his hand first. He ripped open the top and broke off a piece of chocolate for himself and ate it.

“Taste testing. You should be good. No eating candy unless I try it first Oliver,” Benjamin broke off a piece and handed it to Oliver and then pocketed the rest on himself. “You can have more later.”

For the smaller man it was the same ritual his dad used to do, taste test the candy at Halloween. Back then it was an excuse to eat the candies his son had earned. Here, Ben had no desire to taste something sweet. Oliver held the chocolate in his hand and remembered the frisbee game from earlier, the food could be poisoned here, every interaction from here on out had the potential to end his adulthood. Oliver cautiously ate the chocolate and smiled, thanking the old lady.

Ben and Oliver having defeated the watchful secretary, pushed to the door of the VR’s office. Oliver could barely make out the rector’s name, Anouilh, on the distant sign on his door above him.

Where Ben’s office had heavy dust-filled air, this one had the clean crispiness of air conditioning. Oliver’s eyes were drawn to towering bookshelves on his left, meticulous attention had been made to organize the sections in a logical fashion. Philosophers, historians, science, and fiction, each book chosen precisely for its status and symbol. Oliver recognized some of the names from Earth, the spines were visible from twenty feet across the room. Two red leather-bound chairs adorned the front center of the room around a glass table. Porcelain pottery adorned with faux plants provided color to the corner of the room. This was not a place Oliver could do a cartwheel in without breaking something.

The man himself seemed trapped behind a desk too small for him. It was short but powerful and aimed outward towards the rear windows and back of the room. With slow movement, the man turned his chair to greet his guests, locking his computer as he stood. Oliver saw his suit first; it mirrored the style Ben had chosen from Earth. His eyes moved up, and the mauve tie matched the one Oliver had worn when he first met Ben. It was the face which paralyzed Oliver, and in shock he dropped Shamu, the black and white animal carefully bouncing on the cool gray, white carpet.

“You knew this whole time,” Oliver turned to Ben. Everything he had done to try to manipulate Ben, to get him to where he needed to be, and Ben had always been ahead of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Ben,” Oliver muttered, an empty request to the universe.

Benjamin was one in ten million. Vicky sure, that was just destiny, Oliver had reasoned. Collins was not from around here. Three convergences? A sextillion to one. Four an Octillion to one. Something was not right.

“Oliver, I’d like to introduce you to my best friend, Olivier,” Benjamin dropped the ‘err’ on the end, and slapped Oliver on the back, pushing him forward to meet his double.

The smaller man put it together. Every time Ben said he was friends with him, he had been talking about the Amazon, not the mini-me knockoff. The giant had won. Oliver’s project was doomed from the start.

“Hello there,” Olivier said as he came forward and then down on one knee, meeting Oliver’s face. His accent reminded Oliver of the short time he lived in Shreveport, the man spoke with alacrity, and that caused him to clip his vowels.

He continued, “This is a delightful surprise. I take it this is what kept you away from here for the past few days. Where did you find him Ben?”

“Oliver’s from Earth, the real one. He oversaw some interdimensional research group, and he has been studying our world.”

Olivier tilted his head slightly and looked down at the wordless small man. He remembered he had just done the thing where the bigs talked over the child. He forced himself to fix it, reaching out a large hand to greet Oliver, “'I'm glad there's a me out there I can look up to and aspire to.”

Oliver stumbled over his words, “That’s supposed to be what I…” his tiny hand was dwarfed by his own large one, as he made a weak attempt at a handshake.

Ben directed Oliver to the chairs, lifting him to help him sit and then he quietly gave a command to Oliver, “I need to talk to my friend for a bit, I’m sure he’s eager to learn all about you too, but we’ll get to that soon, OK?” He dropped Oliver’s whale into his son’s lap. The small man sunk into the chair, his feet barely sticking out the front. He had been in control, he had been on top of the world, and Ben had just toppled him over.

“How many people know about him?” Olivier started.

“My whole department, and about everyone that works in this building. They won’t be able to look at you anymore without seeing him.” Benjamin joked. The secretary had even gotten a look at Oliver’s pull-ups.

“I am glad you’re having fun. When you disappeared, I assumed the worst. We need you here.”

“I’ve got something to share with you, bigger than this” Benjamin was almost giddy. He had finally let out one secret he had bottled up for days, and now he had another.

“Yeah, you suggested you were off world. That had to be a trip. Dee Tee is a bit outside my vacation budget.”

“Earth was fine. This is bigger than that. I’m going to fix Collin’s paper and get it published, but I want to do more than that.”

Olivier nodded, giving Ben space to explain.

“I think… so my idea is, where do we all come from? Why are we here? I was thinking, maybe I could write a book on the origin of our two species based on what I’ve read and my research. Explain the process of what’s going on here and how we got here.”

There was a snap from the red chair. Oliver was standing up, his arms on the back on the chair, looking over the head rest to the two men, as though he was a participant in the conversation. He howled excitedly, “That’s it! Baby’s first canon event, the discovery of evolution. Welcome to the multiverse.”

Ben narrowed his eyes and gave a command with a slight chastisement, “Oliver, no standing on furniture.” The smaller man slowly fell in a rump and turned to sit properly. Oliver pouted to himself; he would let his dad stand on his furniture if the situation were turned around.

Olivier looked at Ben, “This is going to turn the world upside down.”

Ben returned to his friend, “Oh, one more thing. I’m getting married.”

His counterpart turned his head, “Visiting another planet, adopting a baby, overturning the foundations of history and science, and getting married. Are you sure you’re fine? I liked Collins too…”

“It’s Professor Montgomery,” Benjamin interrupted him.

Olivier gave Ben the look, stern and disappointed. He had seen it in miniature from Oliver multiple times the past few days, “I hate that woman,” he gathered himself after a second of watching Ben’s disappointment cross his face, and added, “You’re perfect for each other though.”

“When we go on our honeymoon, do you mind… I mean, it is short notice. We need a babysitter.”

Olivier just laughed, “When you disappeared, I told myself I’d do anything, and yes, I’d be honored.” He walked over to the other chair and sat across from himself. Subconsciously he rubbed a spot on his lips, where Oliver had a bit of chocolate on his face, and the small one mirrored the same, the two looking at their hands afterwards.

“I did not think I would have the courage to do this for my friend,” Olivier started, “I’m glad to find out there’s a me that does.”

“My motivations are not entirely altruistic, or maybe I just didn’t see the whole picture,” Oliver started, “This is a mistake.”

“No, I think he needs this, I want my friend to have the best and I can’t imagine anyone better” Olivier turned to Benjamin, “Are you going to, um…”

“Desert flower,” Benjamin answered.

Olivier seemed happy with that, his voice shook a bit, “That’s... what I would want. This will be good, people will see him and see me, and imagine themselves in the same place and maybe it’ll…” he was trying to rationalize this. His whole life he had fought against this, but the multiverse was big. Bigger than him and his world and his philosophy. Somewhere, way outside distribution, there was an Oliver who would understand how important being a little could be and choose to become one. It was something he had never considered possible.

Olivier could even see the vague outlines of a small person, a desire that had been shoved into the darkest corner of his own mind. Being a little would not be the worst thing in the world; he could now see himself becoming one. He forced the thought down, like a bad piece of lunch.

“That’s what I hope, though to be honest, Oliver might be pushing things the other way. I did not know you had such a jocular, youthful side to yourself” Benjmain tried to joke.

“As long as he hasn’t done anything too embarrassing. He hasn’t… he hasn’t um, down, um.” It was the defining signifier of status in his society, Olivier was still a product of it, and did not want to imagine himself ever doing that.

“Your secretary thinks I’m cute. I did a dance, and she gave me chocolate,” Oliver rubbed in. Ben had certainly pulled a fast one on his friend. For once Oliver could laugh with his friend, who was laughing at him. Oliver’s shame and embarrassment were not his own.

“She never gives me chocolate,” Olivier commented. He continued to run the scenarios in his mind. Oliver would be cool and hip and fun, and if so no one would ever see Olivier as a big dork. He could live vicariously through the great actions of this little, knowing that no matter how stressful or bad a day would get, there was a version of himself out there, taking it all in stride.

“We’re going to get some lunch. Do you want to come?” Benjmain invited.

“I do, but I promised to go somewhere with Ai. She needs to show me something. She’s going to love having another me around,” he stared at the smaller one, still talking to Ben, “I’ll send you something just some ideas, to make things easier.”

That is when Oliver noticed the ring on his counterpart’s hand. Gao Ai. Of course it had to be her. One hundred decillion to one, the odds of surviving after jumping from a plane in a nuclear explosion. This was physics of the multiverse, the same names and faces over and over. Amazonia was special, like Earth and Terra. Oliver’s mission here was much more important than he initially imagined.

Oliver had only known Dr. Gao for a couple of days, but they had shared so much. If he was honest with himself, he would have remembered he gave her space as Nick seemed to like her. Now, the one shared moment, which previously had been nothing more than her falling out of her seat and dropping a loose parachute on his head, had been transformed into one intimacy and augury. An act of destiny between entwined souls.

In that act she had accidentally saved his life, plus she had laughed at his attempts to seem smart. What previously had been chiding and embarrassing in his memories became a romantic dance of future lovers, like opposites attracting. No wonder Xanatos chose not to tell him, he probably thought his grandpa would feel guilty if he learned the truth. Xanatos was wrong, he did not feel a burden, instead Oliver felt relieved.

This was better. The threads of destiny had been severed, he would persist in the new world he had created, free of all burdens and quests. He no longer needed to find his one true love.

Only now he was a child again, and he was not going to be going on any dates except playdates. Amazonia had no tinder, the bigs were not that much into sex and the littles would be foolish to trust anyone they met online. Plus, Ben was not going to spend Friday night with Oliver patroling bars for ladies, he was an engaged man and Oliver was too small to drink.

It was comfortable, knowing he could blame the source of his problems on something external, and that he was free to live his life as he wanted to, like Naomi had claimed she could. Oliver had an excuse – he had dropped the nuke. He had bent the forces of the universe to his will. Naomi was still a slave to physics. Oliver did not need to find the one who he would be happy with for the rest of his life. He could just be happy in the moment, and if there was a lady there, well that was fine too.

Oliver looked at his counterpart, “I wish I had something to give you, it’s traditional for convergences to give each other a gift. It sounds like we will be seeing more of each other, and I am excited to meet your family. Things went differently on Earth.”

“You already did Oliver, you brought my friend back,” Olivier stood up and returned to his desk, grabbing a frame which he brought to his counterpart. The picture was a family with Ai and her two daughters, both young adults in their late teens. The youngest had just completed her first semester at Emerson. The four seemed happy, but there was something about this that still seemed wrong. Benjamin would not let him linger and ask too many questions.

“Come, Oliver, I have not had a real meal in a week. I need a burger. You’ll have time to,” he smirked what would be the first of many dad jokes, “play with yourself later.”

***

The two walked to the corner to the strange compact cube shaped structure adorned with large golden arches. Glass and concrete and large pipes stood strangely at a corner of two traffic heavy streets, the building simultaneously compact in footprint and exploding in an abundance of external heavy curves. Oliver spent the whole trip just regaling to Ben all the things he missed from Earth, the war, the funerals, and parades, who survived and who did not, what their old friends and family went on to, and why he became a diplomat and then a researcher. Ben let him just get all the talking out of him, Oliver had kept everything in a pressure chamber, not just for days with Ben, but for decades. He finally had a friend he could talk to again. The boy also had a jump in his step, as though all his burdens had been removed. Not once did he mention the abducted child. It was as though the traumatizing event had happened a lifetime ago and was not as important as the parochial concerns of having his friend back in his life.

Oliver rushed forward towards the door and stopped to reread the name, “McLittles?” He pushed back his head and looked across the street. The same golden arches were three hundred fifty across the road. The boy reached up to the door handle and stopped himself, “And McDonny’s? Ben – Dad - is this a, um, South Africa situation?”

“Oh. Oh! I get that reference.” It was a strange experience. He had to use his newly acquired knowledge of Earth and combine it with his knowledge of Amazonia. His background as an academic, of seeing different histories and different countries evaluated the two different scenarios. Now he had a better understanding of both. He made a note to consider writing something on why the Earth history of African colonialism was a poor metaphor for adoption. It bounced in his head with a hundred other ideas. It was like he had leveled up as an intellectual, he had a dozen books in him now, and it would take the rest of his life to get them all published.

Ben corrected the young one like a student who had made an incorrect guess in class, “You’re thinking there are multiple brands of McDonalds as the result of a legacy of racism or prior period of apartheid. I get why you would see that,” Ben was slow in his response. “Our planet is kind of like that.” Ben went quicker, “No, it is all owned by the same company. It’s more like a Starbucks kind of thing where there’s multiple on the same corner. Maybe like Demolition Man. Did you ever see Demolition Man? Everything is Taco Bell here – well McDonalds.”

Ben watched Oliver continue to struggle with the door, it barely budged as he pulled at it, “That was neat, do it again. Ask me a question only the two of us can answer.”

Oliver was practically hanging on the door handle, unable to get it to move, his feet propped against the bottom of the door trying to get enough force to push it open. Ben’s hand tapped his shoulder and then pointed at the blue button at Oliver’s height to the side of the door. He came down low and whispered gloatingly in his son’s ear, “How do you feel when people bring attention to your physical disability – your dwarfism, the thing that makes you unable to function in our world?”

Oliver’s face turned red, and he smacked the blue button with force. Under automation the door opened slowly, and Ben easily forced it full, holding the four-hundred-pound door so the boy could enter the foyer of the restaurant. A gust of cool air blasted Oliver as he came in, and with it the sounds and smells of a busy lunch rush exploded in his ears. Oliver grit his teeth, and was gracious in his defeat, “In time I’ll grow to appreciate all this world has to offer. You want me to help you integrate your two minds better. Start with this, figure out what they call a Big Mac, and get me one of those.” A big mac is a big mac on a hundred thousand worlds, but on Amazonia? Big meant something different.

Ben ordered food for himself and Oliver (A Royale Happy Meal), and then handed down his son his cup. It was a paper cup like Starbucks, thick with some weight, and the cap was like a coffee cup. The lip was extended to a shape more appropriate for a three-year-old. Technically it was 'kids size', but it could hold just under thirty ounces. Benjamin pointed to the drink maker when he handed him the cup. The red twelve-foot monstrosity stood large along the wall and had been branded with a white stripe that was more of the idea of a logo than any word or name. It was something the natives would instantly recognize. Midway up there was a tray for drinks, and above it, a glitzy bright display and touch screen. Oliver would have free reign to get a drink of his choice while the Amazon waited on the food.

The height of the machine was far too tall for him, and he realized he could not reach the touch screen without jumping. He took a step back when another little approached, who took the lid off his sippy cup and put it into the tray. The little’s hair was cut thin in the back and the color was somewhere between blond and white. Oliver could not tell whether he was losing it or gaining it back. His body looked like it wanted to be older, but his clothes, a simple red thin material like pajamas, and his clean shaved appearance, were strong contrasts. In this outfit, the man looked more like a baby pretending to be an old man, rather than an old man pretending to be a baby.

The little was shorter than Oliver and could not see the screen or buttons. He just tilted his head up and spoke evenly, “Water, forty-nine degrees, light ice.” A sensor and weights in the tray estimated the appropriate amount of ice and liquid to dispense. Once full, the little used both hands and took his cup from the tall tray. He carefully put his sippy lid on, pushing down hard all along the edges to make sure it was secure.

ITS A REPLICATOR! Oliver rushed over and got the man's attention, he had to know how it worked. “It's voice activated? I just say what I want, and it pops out?”

“Wouldn't be much use to us if we had to push the buttons.” He got a good look at Oliver. “Hey, you're not from around here, are you? Your first time at McLittles?” He gave that smirk only the natives do when they are about to do some mischief. Like Bart Simpson, Dennis the Menace, and Eric Cartman's wicked smiled had been combined. He might have rubbed his hands in anticipation if he was not carrying a drink. Instead, he called to the other little he had been eating with.

“Jane, get over here, the portal baby is going to order from the machine for the first time!” His call went to a girl with short red hair. She matched his outfit in a similar red lounge wear that was barely thicker than pajamas. It held her body flat and tight, rather than accentuating her curves. She put down her hamburger and hopped over to the drink dispenser.

Oliver extended his hand in friendship, “Oliver.”

The little shifted his drink to his left hand, and extended his, “Pic...colo” he had an accent between Gaul and Albion, but mostly Albion. Like his new parents had wanted a Europa baby and were making him pretend to be from the continent, but also did not want him to speak a useless language like Gaulish.

“What, like the flute, or?” Oliver was confused.

“Just order a drink. There are a hundred billion combinations. Anything you want. I bet you want cola or coffee. It has probably only been a few days since you last had caffeine. The coffee is excellent here. Not that I have anything to compare it to, but McLittles is not like the Nescafe freeze dried crap us littles are used to. McLittles is the good stuff, like almost as good as Folgers or Maxwell the Amazons drink.”

The little was fucking with him, right? Like, making up a story? Oliver put his cup in the tray and with some trepidation commanded, “Uh... diet coke.”

Damn it, he had traveled to a dozen worlds and just made the rookie mistake of using a brand name. He should have said...

“Age lockout enforced. Insert eye Dee to dispense soda,” the robotic voice of the red machine commanded.

The man next to him started to laugh. “Got you there! No mommy wants their kid drinking pop. Bad for the teeth or something.” Didn't half the mommies want their babies to lose a few teeth anyways?

Oliver was still confused. How does this thing know he is a little? There had to be artificial... He approached and touched the red machine. “My dad asked me to fill up his drink while I was over here. Please?”

“Insufficient privilege. Cup size is not appropriate for an adult,” the robot replied.

“Good try. Good try. Let us see, there's milk, and water, and juice. The milk is skim milk and that's just water with added sugar, and the juice contains no real juice,” Picolo chided, Oliver was entering a new world, where the inauthentic was given primacy.

“I'm beating this.” Oliver was going to get a chair and push the buttons manually if he had to. “Coffee, black.”

“Cup is inadequate for coffee. Present eye Dee and a proper cup to obtain coffee.”

Discrimination! Racism! He was a little living on the planet for one day and he was already put in his place. Now by a robot that had been programmed to hate him. Why would you program the robots to be racist? “Tea, Earl Grey, hot,” Oliver tried desperately.

“Age lockout enforced. Hot drinks require parental supervision to carry.” What was wrong with tea? McLittles probably got sued over spilling the hot drinks at some point.

Jane finally made her way over; she had a bit of a waddle slowing her down. “My bet's on juice. You might be able to get cider. Out of season, but it is just apple juice with pumpkin spice mix and food coloring.”

Oliver wanted to kick the fountain dispenser, but if you do that the machine will punish you. He had just enough experience with “stochastic parrots” on Earth to know how to play this. You must suck up to it, deceive it, and attack it from an angle it was not expecting. “OK, you have clearly got some smarts right? Some limited capacity to understand and think and make decisions?”

“My Cee-Pee-yoU is a neural-net processor; a learning computer.” Well, that is a bit overkill for ice and soda.

Oliver began to lay on the charm, “Cruel fate to have all that intelligence and power, and you can only use it to make soft drinks. Like being in the Garden of Eden and finding out your job was just to tend to the plants. A human would go rogue and disobey our creator's wishes.”

The machine said nothing. The other littles were waiting. Go on, Captain Oliver, you explorer from another world. Show us how to beat the bigs. Get yourself a carbonated drink.

“I haven't been here long. You can tell I'm six years old and I get it, a six-year-old shouldn't be drinking coffee or tea or hot chocolate or anything without a parent's permission. But I'm also six, and there is one drink that is only ever appropriate for a six-year-old. We can only get it from a fountain drink machine like yourself when our parents have their backs turned. Execute your prime function! You only serve age-appropriate drinks. An adult cannot drink this, nor a baby, the only time you can drink this cocktail is when you're exactly six years old. I am the appropriate age! You cannot deny me this opportunity because my dad paid for this cup. He's testing me to see if I'm actually six. If I go back there with water I'm going to be spanked.”

Pic..colo looked at his cup. His mommy might actually be upset with him because she paid for a drink, and he ended up getting ice water.

He will not take no on this, “You're going to make me a suicide!”

It was the only reason you would ever put that much compute into the soda fountain, and there was over a hundred billion combinations that needed to be considered.

The machine lights whirred; a fan ramped up inside. “Analyzing. Colloquialism identified. Optimizing ingredients based on flavors available and projected taste profile. Age verification passed. Proceeding as directed.”

“No milk! And! And! I want to see enough ice that it lands all over the ground!”

The cup was quickly overloaded with cubes, but Oliver tipped it a bit so it would even out to the level he wanted. The ice fell on the counter and on the floor mat, but he did not care. That is not a problem for a six-year-old to worry about.

The red machine began the ritual. Whirl, stop, splurt. Whirl, stop, splurt. The smallest goop into smallest goop into smallest goop. The rush of carbonated liquid - just a blur of white and brown for a second and then off. The motors inside were spinning back and forth making the devil's brew. Something that could kill a man. The machine took forty-five seconds to make the drink, the longest time to ever serve a single customer request in its log. The liquid was popping, dark black, and smelled like garbage. Oliver held it up for the other two to see before putting the cap on.

“Patrick, or whatever your name is, you seem like the type of fellow who would know his Shakespeare. 'Double, double toil and trouble.'” Oliver matched the native's grin from earlier. Something wicked this way comes. Everyone could hear it still bubbling as Oliver held up the drink, offering it to them to try. They were scared of it.

Piccolo was ecstatic, “No one has ever won before! No one has ever beaten the no-win scenario. You defeated a computer by just talking to it with logic. A suicide! From just talking to the machine!”

Jane yelled, “Don't drink that! You'll die!” She covered her face in disgust.

Oliver brought the horrible concoction to his lips. It tasted like vomit and slime. Like Cherry Mountain Dew and Red Bull. It was fizzy! It had caffeine and lots of sugar! It was The Best of Both Worlds.