Rhonda Leigh Jones . com

Tom discovered the thing he had found in Sargosian’s bathroom was an Event Horizon Calculator the moment he began gazing at the screen, because the words I AM THE EVENT HORIZON CALCULATOR had appeared there. After that, Tom had merely sat and stared in dumbfounded fascination at other parts of the machine, hoping they would explain themselves as well. He would begin randomly pressing buttons, he thought, if there were any buttons to randomly press, but the surface was sleek and silver.

When he wondered what would happen if he flung it across the room, the following words appeared on the screen:

“Event Horizon Calculator shatters, forever depriving you of the answers you seek, 79 %. Event Horizon Calculator bounces in entertaining fashion, damaging internal workings, gives you faulty calculations which result in a terrible hangover, 21 %.”

“Oh well, isn’t that interesting,” Tom muttered, not quite sure what to make of the little device. The screen went blank for a moment. Then a new probability appeared: “Event Horizon Calculator seeks nasty revenge should it ever become sentient, 100 %.”

Tom laughed nervously, gesturing with one hand as he spoke. “I was only joking, you see and…wait a minute. You can read my thoughts. Event Horizon Calculator,” he said appreciatively, then repeated it for good measure. “Event Horizon Calculator…I don’t suppose you can show me the questions asked by Jelinek Sargosian having to do with me?” he asked.

He discovered the Event Horizon Calculator did indeed keep a history of the most recently asked questions, along with the probabilities it had generated. After that, he discovered that Jelinek Sargosian had a very strange mind indeed, but decided, based on the events of the last few minutes, he was in no position to judge.

He had given in to the temptation to use the hot tub.

While playing with the high-tech toy, Tom sat in the greenish goo enjoying the sensations it created. He was naked. Since it looked very much like an Earth hot tub, Tom hadn’t thought being naked in it was at all odd, in the beginning. However, the greenish stuff that inhabited it seemed to be alive, and moved over him soothingly and without the apparent aid of jets. In spite of such a relaxing situation, however, a vague worry had begun to creep over Tom, and he wondered if perhaps he wasn’t in the process of violating some sort of decorum or protocol by heaving his nude form into the gelatinous…being…and hoped he wasn’t sitting inside a high-profile government official or business executive from some strange world.

It was very soothing, however. And warm. And the being, whatever it was, made soft little squeals, which were all very pleasant. He thought the being might not have made thing quite so pleasant if Tom were offending it. Then he considered the possibility that aliens may have different ideas about what is and isn’t pleasant, at which point he became very confused, then decided to drop it and just enjoy himself and tinker with his new toy. Tom sighed and stared at the screen, trying to focus his eyes. Green gelatinous beings were so much better than water, he decided.

The stuff squealed softly. Tom sighed loudly.

His search of the Event Horizon Calculator’s databanks turned up something very interesting: Tom had done this all before. According to the device, he had teamed up with someone named Otis at a place called the Pleasure Mall, then traveled back in time to prevent Sargosian from interfering with a reptile that was to become the grandmother of the human race.

The idea that the human race had a grandmother made him feel warm and bubbly inside.

Sargosian had asked, “What if I travel back to the Precambrian period, find humans’ reptilian ancestor and simply change the course of its wanderings?”

The Event Horizon Calculator had replied, “Evolution of Homo Reptilian species, 98%. Evolution of strange species of sentient eels with a penchant for poker, 2%.”

“How in the world does an eel play poker?” Tom muttered. Excited, he said, “Further back, Calculator. Further back.”

Eventually, Tom discovered that, after being foiled by him and Otis, Sargosian had simply traveled back in time and prevented the two from meeting.

“Hmm,” Tom said, not terribly fazed by what he had read. “What if human beings had never evolved?”

“Evolution of different sentient species, 64%. Takeover of Earth by race of warrior monks, 25%. Reality television created much sooner, 11%.”

He didn’t have time to question the Event Horizon Calculator further, however, because he suddenly had the strangest feeling Love was doing loop-de-loops. Because spaceships have artificial gravity fields, everything nearly stayed in place as though nothing out of the ordinary were happening. The only way Tom could tell something odd was going on was the flip-flopping of his stomach and the strange sensation that the hair on his head was trying to stand on end, not to mention that little slow-motion waves were forming in the green…thing. It emitted what sounded for all the world like a squeal of sheer, unbridled glee.

Careful not to get the Event Horizon Calculator wet (if such a thing were possible in the goo) he climbed out of the tub. It felt as though the goo were grabbing at him. Its squeals had turned decidedly disappointed, he thought. He began to worry he had gotten himself into some sort of relationship.

“There there,” he said, bending over the tub. “We’ll do it again soon. But for now I’ve got to go turn around a lizard.”

He could have sworn he heard the words, “Not that again,” come from the goo.

Tom pulled on his clothes and set out again to look for the bridge, because that seemed the most likely place to have a conversation with the spaceship one was currently inhabiting. As Love was a very small ship, he had no trouble finding it.

“Love,” he said. “I know what your master was up to.”

Love responded with a long, drawn out, “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeee-haaaaaaaaaaaa!”
It sent Tom’s blood cold, because for a second he thought he was back in Georgia.

“What did you just say?” Tom asked.

Love yee-ha’d again.

“That’s what I thought you said. Listen, Love, I know what Sargosian did on old Earth and we have to go back before it’s too late. Time’s running out, Love. We need to cut this short.”

Just then he had the strangest sensation that he was standing upside-down on the ceiling. “Oh my, now that is interesting. I do wish I had time to enjoy it properly.” A bit louder, he said, “Love, do you hear me?”

“Of course,” the ship replied. “I hear everything that goes on here. Oh, the stories I could tell. Hold on!”

Tom clutched at the wall, even though he suspected there was really no need. And it didn’t stop his stomach flipping anyway.

“Listen, Love, we have to go back now. We can do this some other time, but you see, Earth is changing as we speak. If we don’t nip back in time before things get to a certain point, it may be irreversible, even with time travel. I’m not sure how that works, but this little contraption seems fairly certain of it.”

The Event Horizon Calculator beeped angrily.

“Sorry,” Tom said. “I’ll make it up to you later.” He wondered if he was going mad. Then he decided he was having too much fun to care.

Love was also enjoying himself much too much to care about anything else. “No can do, Daddy-O,” he said gleefully. “I haven’t had this much fun in years. How do I know we’ll come back?”

“Because I’ve given you my word, Love,” Tom said soothingly. “We just have to undo what Sargosian did and-”

“And then something else will come up. Some other species will need to be saved or you’ll be mysteriously summoned by some powerful alien race. I know how you save-the-Cosmos types operate, and I’m not falling for it. Wheeeeee!”

Tom widened his eyes. “Save-the-Cosmos type? Do you really think that’s me?”

In reply, Love began singing, “Who Let the Dogs Out?” and Tom realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his current plan.

He thought for a moment, wondering about the best way to get control of the situation? Failing to come up with anything, he decided he would think better after a drink. Or he wouldn’t, but that was a chance he was prepared to take. He had been taken hostage by a pink spaceship that had apparently gone redneck and was hell-bound to do nebula-flips all night. Anything that could offer even the tiniest bit of help was worth a try.

He made his way over to the bar, where colorful liquids swayed ever-so-slightly in their containers. He got an idea. He grinned to himself.

“Love, I’m pouring myself a drink,” he said. “Would you like one?”

“A drink?” the ship asked incredulously. “For me?”

“Why of course. It sounds like you’ve been a long time without any fun, and what better way to enjoy whatever it is you’re doing than with a healthy dose of…whatever this is?”

“I don’t know what to say,” the ship replied. A bit tearfully, Tom thought.

Deciding to go all-out for the occasion, Tom sniffed the various liquids and mixed them in such a way that were likely, he thought, to go down the most smoothly. He made two of them, and asked Love where he should pour one of them. He was subsequently directed to a small nearby vent, into which he poured one while raising the other.

“Cheers!” he said, and took a sip. This, he thought, was going to be easy.