Unmellow Yellow © John H. Evans, November 2020Central space port, Planet Zoyant, 4386 light years from Cybertron; 2nd June 257,981 BC6185523125 got the message and backed away. He’d been too disparaging. There hadn’t been an actual fight but there’d been a full holographic simulation. In the virtual arena, a mocked-up 6185523125 had been torn to rags by his opponent’s back blades. It’d been chastening, especially when the real back blades revved menacingly nearby.
“That’s clear, yeah?” said the small, deadly mech. “I’m not taking your usual rust. You’d better get your wheels on the freeway. I mean the freeway to the space port. It’s time you went to your next assignment anyway.” The blue bot 6185523125 twisted himself into car mode and followed the suggestion.
“Freeway’s a good one for him,” said yellow bot 82123116. “I’ll call him that from now on. It might stick.”
“What do you mean?” said the little green bot 2019567211219.
“Do you remember what we were just talking about?” replied 82123116. “We need short names for all this galactic outreach. I’m Hubcap. You can be Slugfest on account of your fighting skills. The one who just insulted you will be Freeway. It’s appropriate because he wants things freed up. In particular, he wants freedom of humour.”
“Huh, your new names seem pointless to me,” said Slugfest. “I’ll keep them in mind but I prefer my original name. Besides, I won’t be doing a lot of diplomacy. I’m not good at it. They want me for data storage and transfer. I can take prodigious amounts between ships, bases, cities, planets and anywhere else. I’m far better than a transmission.” Hubcap watched as Slugfest continued absorbing files by the trillion. (This was information recently shipped in from around the galaxy.) It was odd that he could hold buckets of information in his databanks and yet not learn from it. Soon, Slugfest was filled to capacity and waiting for transport.
“Remind me again why you’re offline,” said Hubcap as he watched robots shifting heavy loads toward the nearest collection point. “Is it your new body tech?”
“Yeah, I’m their little experiment,” said Slugfest. “I signed up for it. I wanted to be useful. I’m tired of not being valued. The main drawback is that the process interferes with telepathy. I’m permanently linked to hyperspace. It blocks my mental connection to the collective. They haven’t solved the problem yet.”
“That’s too bad,” said Hubcap sympathetically. “Who’s the team leader on that project? Maybe I could speed up the research. You need a work-around solution.”
“He’s 3181311161520,” replied Slugfest. “He says they’re doing their best but hyperspace tends to defy scientific methods. I might be offline for a long while. To tell the truth, I don’t mind. It’s more tranquil for me now.”
“Fair enough,” said Hubcap. “I’ll still talk with him, though. I want to rename him ‘Crackpot’. It’s fitting.”
“True but even I know that’s tactless,” said Slugfest. “Give him a break! He’s shifting super-towers to help us all. I thank Primus that we have such great intellects in our society.”
“So you really look up to him,” commented Hubcap. “I’m intrigued by the whole project. If only I’d volunteered for it.”
“Ah, you missed out,” said Slugfest. “They’re doing amazing things in hyperspace. It’s a shame you can’t see the installations.”
“Maybe I can,” said Hubcap, having a sudden idea. “If you offload some of that data, I could put part of my personality into your storage drums and then you could take me into hyperspace.”
“I don’t know if we should,” said Slugfest. “It could screw things up. It could be really bad.”
“No, it’s only data transfer,” said Hubcap. “We do it all the time. My personality is data. It’ll be fine.”
“I guess so,” said Slugfest, putting some of his data into a separate storage device. “You’re a friend. I’ll take you across. You can interface with the storage banks in hyperspace. You’ll appreciate the lengths to which they’ve gone to build them.” A few minutes later, when all was ready, Slugfest engaged his special transformation. His physical form shrank to only a few centimetres long. At the same time, most of his mass shifted into hyperspace. Inside Slugfest, Hubcap’s shard of personality didn’t experience anything until it interfaced with the storage banks. When he started to gauge the size of the banks, he was astonished. The interior capacity seemed endless. He felt dizzy simply looking at the directory lists that stretched into the distance.
“This is what we’re going to need in the future,” said Slugfest, who was used to the cavernous stores. “Stupendous volumes of virtual space are required for all our data.”
“I wasn’t prepared,” said Hubcap as he opened some blank files. “It’s like when a youngster contemplates the universe for the first time. I need a few minutes to acclimatise.”
“Take your time,” said Slugfest. “My pick-up isn’t due for an hour.” Hubcap explored rank after rank of vertiginous storage blocks. Everything seemed empty and would probably remain so for a long time. Perhaps he could use a couple of these files? He wasn’t certain but he believed that his data wouldn’t be discovered for years. He made a basic copy of his personality shard and placed it in a file. That would be a handy back-up. It didn’t take up much room. How about another? How about a thousand more? He started churning out copies and stacking them in a file. He reached a thousand quite quickly and wondered if he should deposit more. Just then, Slugfest called him back. The real world schedule couldn’t be avoided.
“Magnificently organised vacancy, isn’t it?!” exclaimed Hubcap as he returned to Slugfest’s storage drum. “I’m so proud of our foresight and planning!”
“Yes but think of the work we’ll have to do to fill it!” said Slugfest. “I’m guessing we’ll be slaving away for millions of years!” Hubcap felt a chill. He hadn’t anticipated such long service. He’d have to prepare himself in various ways. The hidden personality copies were a start. Further opportunities would present themselves later, he was sure. Slugfest returned him to his body. Presently, after refilling his storage drum, Slugfest was collected and taken to a regional command centre. Hubcap wandered outside and watched as Freeway’s star ship teleported away. The haulier and stevedore robots retreated from the dock and went to prepare for the next shipment. Meanwhile, the blood red sun glowered over the scene. Behind that sun were billions more to be visited. Hubcap understood the scale of it now, not just in his mind but in his workings, his deep circuits, his elemental soul. Transformers trans-galactic: yet what was their role? Would they be explorers, archivists, police, peace-keepers, governors or even emperors? The thought made him twitchy.
* * * * *
Planet Riag, 4677 light years from Cybertron; 3rd June 257,981 BC‘He of the bright fruity gold
Will bring us in from the cold!
The other one of purplish-red
Will put us in a warm bed!’
The chanting outside went on incessantly, irritatingly. Hubcap grimaced and his monitor Wresprey frowned. Their sanguine host Shaman Elborko was used to it, so he ignored it. He was preoccupied with other thoughts, such as the way that he’d had his lodge rebuilt shortly before this alien visitation. He’d had the foresight to expand the building enough to accommodate these metal giants. He thanked the spirits for that.
“So you’re called Hubcap,” said Elborko calmly. “You named yourself after a small part of your anatomy. If I’d been like you, I would’ve called myself ‘knee pad’ or ‘tummy tentacle’.”
“Give us a chance,” said Hubcap with a little laugh. “We’re new to short names. Our real names are long and meaningless to you.”
“My name’s halfway between body paint and avian predator,” said Wresprey. “That’s what they said on the last planet. It was their truth but also a mild joke.”
“A word of advice,” said Elborko to Wresprey. “Ease up on the mind talk. I know it’s a big part of your job but it brings bad luck.”
“Oh, you can hear us?” queried Wresprey. “We thought that this world had no telepaths.”
“Not officially but I’ve taken many different psychoactive substances over the years,” said Elborko. “I can read some of these mind messages but I can’t make any myself.”
“And what’s so wrong with telepathy?” asked Hubcap.
“Those who practice it tend to disappear,” replied Elborko. “We used to know three telepathic races. They all went away somewhere and we never heard from them again.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t run our operation without telepathy,” interjected Wresprey. “We’ll just have to take our chances. Besides, we’re not exactly lightweights.”
“Indeed, you’re utterly fearsome,” said Elborko. “I’d be weeping in the corner and soiling myself if I wasn’t so enlightened ... and sedated.” He took a small semi-rotten fruit from his side table and squeezed the juice into his mouth. This made him even more relaxed. Wresprey took the opportunity to ask the people to stop their chanting. It was getting on his nerves. They saw and heard him through the window. Slightly afraid, they stopped their special chant and went back their regular, quieter chant:
‘We are all quite normal
Nothing here’s abnormal
It’s all going our way
On this normal day!’
“That’s an improvement!” said Hubcap.
“The vaguest kind of improvement,” said Wresprey. “They’re doing it to confuse their thoughts. I’m having trouble reading them.”
“As it should be, my metallic master,” said Elborko languorously. “We do what we can to stave off the downfall.”
“We’ll investigate this ‘downfall’ business later,” said Hubcap. “Today we want to talk about practical matters like minerals. As you might imagine, we Transformers need a great deal of metal and also other stuff. May we be allowed to mine in your territory? There will be very little disruption to your lives. The tunnels will be deep down and we’ll fill them in afterwards.”
“I’m grateful that you asked politely but obviously we can’t stop you mining,” said Elborko. “The spirits told me that it would be fine. They give me hints and tips on a regular basis. You have our blessing. Go ahead and dig. Where will you sink your shaft?”
“There’s no need for one,” said Hubcap. “We have scanning and teleportation technology. The job will be done by the end of the day.”
“Oh, I see!” said Elborko with an expression of happy realisation. “It’s the same technology that brought you across the galaxy without hitting a star or planet.”
“That’s right, it’s pretty amazing,” said Hubcap. “You should try it sometime.”
“No thanks, I’ve seen enough,” said Elborko. “We don’t trust that space warp technology yet. It’s too hazardous, in our opinion. You simply don’t know who or what is out there.”
“We’re the new mechs in town, comparatively speaking,” said Wresprey. “We’re still exploring but we’re fully prepared, if you know what I mean.” In his mind, he showed Elborko a glimpse of his primal spark. The power and brilliance of it silenced the Shaman for a moment.
“You ... you’re different, aren’t you?” observed Elborko. “You’re going to change the game. Huh, I’ll watch with interest!”
“Before we go, do you have any questions?” asked Wresprey. “I’m aware that you may need help with some infectious diseases.”
“You’re curing them already,” said Elborko, remembering a psychedelic vision that he’d had a few hours ago. “I thought that you were up to something. You’re very decent, responsible people.”
“Well deduced,” said Hubcap. “However, if you have these cures then you must be prepared for a population surge in years to come. You should grow more food, build more houses, create more schools and do everything else necessary for the people who won’t die of infections anymore.”
“Understood,” said Elborko. “Now, would you like a little tour of our land? You could drive and I could guide.”
“I’m terribly sorry but we don’t have time,” said Hubcap graciously. “Robots will continue our work here while we resume exploration. So many stars, so little time!” The two mechanoids transformed into ground vehicles and drove carefully through the main doorway. They didn’t especially like being in organic peoples’ homes because there were so many fragile things there. Once outside, Wresprey became a flying craft and carried Hubcap beneath him. They flew back to their star ship, the Quiri Floe. Soon after, the great ship blipped away to the next red star civilisation. Wresprey told the others on board that he thought Hubcap was an excellent diplomat and negotiator. As transmission conditions allowed, news of this assessment spread across the galaxy. Hubcap was pleased but some mysterious issue niggled in his brain. Wresprey and his colleagues would monitor him. They knew that the galaxy contained many invisible influences, both known and unknown. The Transformers were still learning about them.
* * * * *
Quiri Floe star ship, 4492 light years from Cybertron; 4th June 257,981 BC. (Normal reality)The collective was shoring him up. They were trying many angles to boost his morale and keep him stable. The problem here was Glemthek and his mark-269 disintegrator. Glemthek was less than fifty kilometres away from the Quiri Floe, doing some asteroid mining. The disintegrator was removing tonnes of dust and gravel to reveal some decent metal deposits. However, it was also opening paths to hyperspace and exposing the whole ship to exotic energy waves. Hubcap had always been sensitive to those. Now, though, his sensitivity had increased and he felt besieged. He wanted to escape. The trouble was that there was nowhere to go around here, except a few barren space rocks. The nearest planet was thirty seven light years away. The nearest life world was two hundred and ninety eight light years away. The nearest Transformer base was over a thousand light years away. There was another star ship about twenty light years away but it had a packed schedule and couldn’t come over.
What options did Hubcap have? Despite all the support, he felt like his name: round, shiny and stupid. He should’ve stayed on Cybertron. If not that, he should’ve gone on shorter, easier missions. He’d been over-confident. He’d thought he could handle the trials of a long space mission but now he was suffering because of his error in judgment. He transformed to car mode and drove aimlessly around the ship. Nothing seemed to alleviate his unease. He wished that he could sleep like some of the organics, to escape into dreams. He envied them. But wait, maybe he could find refuge in a daydream! Setting his slow course to automatic, he cruised as he let his consciousness sink into reverie. The ray vibes faded. The collective voices diminished. Hubcap slipped through a gap into a place of perfect peace. There was no psychic noise here. It was dark. There was no room to move. He was secure. He could rest indefinitely. It was a huge relief.
* * * * *
Quiri Floe star ship, 4492 light years from Cybertron; 4th June 257,981 BC. (Not quite normal reality)“Come in, number 82123116,” called Wresprey from his chamber. “Your time is up.” Hubcap stopped doing convoluted circuits of the ship and drove over, wondering what Wresprey meant. It turned out that Wresprey was quoting a petty functionary from a ‘boating lake’, which was one of those silly little organic indulgences. Hubcap reached Wresprey and was confronted by a team of eight monitors. They were concerned about him. Through some occult means, Hubcap had done what the entire collective had failed to achieve. He’d calmed himself completely and was currently untroubled by hyperspatial disturbances like the disintegrator beam. They wanted to know how this was possible. Had he discovered a groundbreaking new remedy or was something more sinister going on? Hubcap transformed and sat down while the others probed his mind very carefully. It seemed subtly different today...
Get behind them.
Sleight here, shimmy there.
The copy boys are working.
Feed lies to the watchers.
While they’re distracted, flip them about.
Tumble them hyper-randomly.
Telescope time, snap the ends together.
Rewrite their life narratives.
Convince them, lads! Convince!
Why did Hubcap’s friendly smile evoke consternation? It was uncanny, especially when they’d just established his excellent mental health. They needn’t have worried about him. It turned out that he’d learnt some positive thinking techniques from wise organics thirty five years earlier. He’d dredged them out of his deep memory this morning and used them. They’d proved to be very refreshing. His mind was now cleaner than it had been for five hundred years. The monitors thought that they should try those techniques, since they were so effective. They rose and left Wresprey’s chamber, going back to their regular activities without a backward glance. Hubcap took an energon stick from Wresprey’s dispenser and ingested it immediately. He’d been driving for a few hours so he needed it. Wresprey was left to wonder if Hubcap really had overcome his mental difficulties. He had to remind himself that, in this age of marvels, anything was possible.
Hubcap didn’t think about the situation. He hadn’t been responsible. Had it actually happened? He wasn’t aware of anything. He had been daydreaming lately, fantasising about the outlandish possibilities of hyperspace. It was only his chuntering subconscious in action. He could disregard those idle speculations. He left Wresprey and returned to his quarters at a leisurely pace. The next assignment ought to be fun, he thought. Before that happened, he’d get a full service check and replace old or damaged parts. He didn’t want to face the organics in a sub-par condition. Life was good, he reflected as he drove. It was as if this was his first day in the galaxy! These were such crazy times...
* * * * *
Quiri Floe star ship, 4492 light years from Cybertron; 4th June 257,981 BC. (Slightly weird reality)Driving along.
Intuition warns him of something imminent.Transformation begins.
There’s a general sense of distaste.Rear axle divides.
A new feeling arises in his spark.Thousands of interlink clamps open.
This thing is slow but inevitable.Drive shaft modulates and repositions.
He thought he was in the clear.Armour wraps around sturdy legs.
‘A fresh hell’, they say: rather apt.Steel flesh is rearranged by charges and cables.
How can he block this novel scrutiny?Chunky arms form a pugilistic pose for naught.
The collective swivels attention at him. They’ve noticed!Head pops out of trunk, plates sliding into lock.
This can’t be! It’s just more make-believe.Hubcap forces his body to relax. This is a passing fancy. It’ll vanish sooner or later. Ordinary life can continue. He does his best to focus elsewhere. The alien thing leering at him means nothing. He’ll carry on doing what he likes. For example, Bregnid has a growing collection of organic artefacts. Also, Ounsemblar has some thrilling aerial evasion and combat re-enactment programmes. There’s plenty to see on this ship.
But the collective has other ideas. Three big enforcers converge on Hubcap and box him in. He has no choice but to go with them. He’ll have to stay in a special research facility while they gather information about the ominous, discarnate entity lodged in his brain. Of course he’s dismayed. This isn’t his fault! That thing just showed up. How can he be blamed?!
* * * * *
Quiri Floe star ship, 4492 light years from Cybertron; 4th June 257,981 BC. (Two increasingly weird realities)It wasn’t worth the hassle. Hubcap took one last look as the creature did battle with thousands of ultra-militant Transformer psychics. Most of the action was taking place in the spiritual realm but there was some physical overspill. Rooms were being wrecked. Girders slammed into decks. He knew that his people would win but the creature was no push-over. They hadn’t named it yet. Hubcap called it the Confugulator because it was confugulating the area nicely. The little Transformer turned away and slipped into hyperspace. Since when had he learnt how to do that? Possibly since Slugfest had shown him an entrance. He was back in the vaults. Their ludicrous hugeness made them the best known hideout. When psychic minders came looking for him on the Quiri Floe, he was nowhere to be found.
Therefore, naturally, he had to find himself. In an unfamiliar yet familiar place, he was secure, snug and safe for a moment. Then he was back on the ship as if nothing had happened. The Quiri Floe was a great ship. The interior was so bright and spacious. It looked like a glorious summer day on Cybertron, only with fewer towers. There were millions of lights all around. At this point in history, the Transformers had energon to burn. They had access to resources from nearly half the galaxy. It was easy for them to do all kinds of things, like fix the damage caused by the Confugulator. That entity had been defeated by now or at least ‘run out of town’, so to speak. Hubcap watched contentedly as robot swarms repaired numerous gashes and craters in the steelwork. They’d be finished in half an hour. Replacement parts were being rushed out of storage, assembled and slotted into place. Monitors surveyed the scene, looking for any little erroneous detail. Everything seemed fine but they worried that they were missing something vital. Was it a part, a robot or a Transformer? They didn’t remember but they suspected that the colour yellow was important.
Meanwhile, Hubcap was enjoying the vibes. The disintegrator wasn’t operating anymore. The asteroid miners were using other tools to break up the metal deposits. Stombalt was testing his freeze ray, though. At a distance of five hundred metres, the side-effect of the ray made Hubcap feel fizzy. Particles were being greatly slowed in Stombalt’s targets but displaced energy was causing little jolts all over the ship and beyond. The ray needed further tuning. Stombalt fully intended to reduce the side-effect to a minimum once he’d measured it fully. Hubcap proceeded along the central boulevard. He was sure that he had something to do but what was it? He could view a collection or a simulation. He could get some maintenance. He could also talk to old friends. There was plenty to do as long as... He could avoid... This was strange. He was fully protected and yet he felt threatened: by rays, by monitors, by nameless beasts from beyond. He was passing a friend’s quarters. He hoped that old Xtephion was at home. He couldn’t find his presence in the network. He stopped, transformed and looked through Xtephion’s window. Xtephion wasn’t there and neither were any of his possessions. Instead, another person called Qhatezan was there, looking back at him quizzically.
“Xtephion isn’t aboard,” said Qhatezan via the network. “He stayed on Cybertron. He had a few minor medical issues and he preferred to tweak software at home for the benefit of the regional lubrication council.”
“That can’t be right,” thought Hubcap. “Xtephion has been here for months. Something’s very wrong, either with me or with the galaxy.”
“The galaxy’s fine,” said Qhatezan. “You must’ve had a brain fritz. I’ve called the monitors.” Hubcap was taken away to a dedicated monitor suite and probed. There was nothing wrong physically except minor wear and tear. The main problem was with his memories, several of which were wrong. Some of those were simply outdated or caused by misapprehension. The rest were glaring errors. Of course, they were put right but the situation was troubling. It was as if Hubcap had experienced an alternative version of Transformer society. He was kept in for observation. He wasn’t allowed to do much except daydream...
* * * * *
Transformer Data Store, hyperspace; 5th June 257,981 BC. (Also a brief trip to a horrible reality)“Are you sure that you want to pursue this path?” asked someone authoritative next to him.
“Who are you?” asked Hubcap in return. “Have you come to throw me out? I’m not authorised to be here.”
“You have every right to be in the Transformer collective’s file store,” said the stranger. “More so than me, in fact: you’re a full-timer while I’m a free agent. Rest easy for now; it’s the other episodes that are, shall we say, unfortunate.”
“Well ‘free agent’, perhaps you shouldn’t try to interfere in my business?” said Hubcap. “I’m not having issues. I’m not causing problems. Everything’s fine. Be polite and introduce yourself. Maybe also tell me why you’re offline.”
“Don’t worry, scout!” said the stranger. “I’m looking out for you and all your friends in the galaxy. I’m Vector Prime, intrepid traveller in space and time (with the occasional rhyme). I’m watching over many important people. I’m offline because there are a great many hazards along the time-line. It’s too perilous for me to venture online. There’s so much at stake.”
“What peril?” queried Hubcap. “Don’t you know the awesome power of the collective? Anyone who crosses us runs the risk of obliteration!”
“Think about it logically,” said Vector Prime with a sad smile. “If we Transformers can achieve such might, so can others. There are plenty of challenges still to encounter. I’m sorry to say, you will encounter them. See for yourself.” Hubcap awoke to a scene of darkness, debris and utter cold. All the interior lights had gone out. There were no personal Transformer lights either: no shining eyes, headlamps, warning markers or activation indicators. Was the crew hiding? Had they gone away? There was still some illumination coming from the local sun. That was normal but why was it brightening? Also, it seemed to be moving too fast from right to left. Furthermore, there shouldn’t be a large window in that location. Hubcap looked at it directly. It wasn’t a window. It was a massive hole in the side of the ship. The jagged edges were starkly revealed by the blazing red orb beyond. Too much light! Hubcap had to cover his eyes. It was clearly time to escape. The Quiri Floe had been wrecked by an atomic explosion or something equivalent. The crew must’ve been defeated or driven off. Vector Prime was certainly accurate in his predictions. The stricken vessel was spinning around steadily as it fell toward the sun. Hubcap transformed and started negotiating the ship’s interior roads, which were damaged and strewn with wreckage. He hoped there would be survivors and shuttles in areas that were more intact. After a few minutes, he was suddenly consumed in a huge fusion fireball. The unknown attackers had claimed his life as they smashed the ship. They aimed to exterminate all possible Transformers in the area.
“I just... died,” said Hubcap, back in data storage. “There was the brightest flash and then it was lights out. We were being crushed. I don’t understand it.”
“Reality isn’t straightforward for advanced people like us,” said Vector Prime. “We’re both on odysseys through a selection of alternatives. My advice is to enjoy yourself and treat it as an educational experience.” That didn’t compute: Hubcap didn’t know how to enjoy a fiery death!
“Vector, could you guide me?” begged Hubcap. “I haven’t done much of this. I’m not good at it. I shouldn’t be here at all!”
“Fear not, scout,” said Vector Prime. “Not everyone is destined to have a simple life. Some of us are meant to navigate preposterous tangles. They infuriate but they build wisdom like nothing else, trust me!” He withdrew into the shadows and went out of sight. Hubcap reached out...
* * * * *
Planet Zmiakethe, Verity Vaub Galaxy, approximately 63 million light years from Cybertron; 5th June 257,981 BC“Do you mind?!” cried someone who appeared abruptly before Hubcap. “That’s my caboose you’re squeezing with your blocky fingers.” The person pulled away, as did Hubcap.
“I’m sorry but you caught me by surprise!” said Hubcap. “I’m not sure where I am, what I’m doing, who you are or anything else. I see you’re a mechanoid.”
“It’s one of the best forms, isn’t it?” said the person, having turned around and stood up. “I mean, why should we be squashies and live for a few years when we can be harder than nails and live as long as we want?!”
“You seem to be modelled on a female body type, though,” observed Hubcap. “Don’t you find that there’s a reduction in raw strength?”
“Don’t worry about it,” said the person. “I can change myself anytime. I’m merely learning the intricacies of female movement first hand. By the way, you can call me Gradskod. That’s what everyone calls me.” Hubcap stopped and glanced around. He was on an unfamiliar planet with a white sun above. There was sparse organic life. The temperature was bearable but rising fast.
“Let’s find shade,” advised Hubcap. “Your coloration is darker than mine. You might overheat.”
“So might you,” said Gradskod. “I’ll carry you to those big eastern rocks. Prepare for an airlift.” She jumped up, transformed to flight mode, took Hubcap by the arms and hoisted him across to the rocks. She wasn’t the strongest mechanoid so carrying Hubcap was quite an effort. They arrived in the shade and landed. A few small animals were already there. They ran or flew away.
“Well done for a lightweight,” said Hubcap as Gradskod transformed. “Most fliers your size can’t lift me properly. Anyway, I hope that this shade is cool enough for us. White suns can be fiercely hot.”
“It is cool enough,” said Gradskod. “I’ve been here for days, so I have experience.”
“Perhaps you can answer my questions,” said Hubcap. “Firstly, I was with a Transformer called Vector Prime a few minutes ago. He disappeared and then I was teleported here. Did you see him around? Judging from his body plan, he was a flier. He seemed very old but he was still healthy.”
“I’m afraid not,” said Gradskod. “I’ve been alone here, with only the little crawling critters for company. What does he do for a living?”
“He told me that he travels the cosmos, watching over people and tackling emergencies,” replied Hubcap. “Beyond that I don’t know much about him. He showed up and went away very quickly.”
“How curious,” said Gradskod. “He and I are somewhat similar. I also travel the cosmos with a trouble-shooting role. We should meet sometime. If you see him again, you could point him in my direction.”
“Ah yes, about that,” continued Hubcap. “You’ll have to give me contact details. I can’t seem to access your data-files wirelessly. Are you offline, like Vector?”
“I usually am,” said Gradskod. “It’s probably for the same reason: security risks. Never mind, take this nano-chip. It contains extensive instructions for contacting me. He’ll understand that I can’t meet people casually. I have self-defence procedures, so he’ll have to be patient and prove his trustworthiness.”
“Oh, then I should go through those procedures too,” said Hubcap. “This is embarrassing! I reached you accidentally.”
“It’s too late for regrets and procedures, don’t you think?” said Gradskod with a chuckle. “Besides, I have numerous internal weapons. They’ll keep me safe.”
“A lot of Transformers have them these days,” said Hubcap. “It’s getting crazy in our part of the galaxy. You can’t find a bot without some explosive or ray gun lodged in an uncomfortable place. They call it preparedness but often it’s unnecessary. I haven’t had any weapons fitted yet.”
“When you’re ready, you can have them,” said Gradskod. “I don’t know your laws and customs so I can’t say more than that.”
“Hmm, you’re like us but I presume you’re no child of Primus,” said Hubcap. “Where are your people?”
“I left them far behind,” replied Gradskod. “I’m an oddity with a firm sense of separate destiny. I couldn’t do what I wanted if I stayed with them. I had to go out and roam free. The universe called and I answered.”
“I’m glad that you’re independent, at least,” said Hubcap. “There’s no one to stop you from helping lost souls like me. I have absolutely no clue where I am. I’ve been experiencing memory loss, missing time, visions and reality warps today. Could you send me back to my ship, the Quiri Floe? We were in system 74908862. That’s not far from the famous Gaseous Octoped nebula. If you know the Milky Way galaxy, you should be familiar with the Octoped!”
“I haven’t heard of the Quiri Floe, the Octoped or the Milky Way,” said Gradskod. “This is all new to me. I mean, the only reason we’re communicating is that you have an excellent person-to-person translator link. I tapped into it immediately and acquired your spoken language.” Hubcap’s spirits sank. He felt that he shouldn’t be here. His memory gaps were deeply worrying. This environment was unrecognisable. He couldn’t contact the Transformer collective. He was losing track of his normal reality. This whole planet might be a dream. He didn’t know how to escape. He sat down and rested his back against a vertical rock surface. Gradskod sat next to him. She understood his dilemma. She’d been lost before and had encountered many other lost folk over the years. In solidarity, she held his hand.
“Your best chance is to let me interface,” she said. “I know it’s a risk for both of us but you’re stuck here and I don’t have a way to repatriate you. As far as we know, the only way forward lies inside you, in your spark memories. I could take a risk and connect our minds. I have security software that should protect me. I reckon you have some too. It’s probably safe. What do you say?” She was the only other mechanoid in the area. Hubcap couldn’t detect anyone nearby. There were no star ships or other craft in range. Civilisation didn’t have a presence here. She was his only hope. He interfaced...
* * * * *
Various unspecified places; various unspecified timesAstronomical survey. System 3864221. He knew this one. The familiar details were humdrum but now they were a joy to behold. He was close to home!
Astronomical survey. System 1904595. New details came in. He had a rough idea of the hyperspatial route to this place.
Astronomical survey. System 7769300. Totally unknown. Data within normal parameters. Why did he keep skipping?
Astronomical survey. System ???????? Red giant. Vast planet below, firing lightning bolts into space.
Astronomical survey. Unknown. Blue star. Too hot. Steel skin melting.
Astronomical survey. Even more unknown. Yellow star in a spiral disembowelling. Falling onto white dot. White dwarf. Radiation blast shredding circuits.
Astronomical survey. Primus help him.
Astronomical survey. The others in the room aren’t moving.
Astronomical survey. Still not moving. Dead, maybe?
Astronomical survey. They’ve gone. New crew members now. A planet hurtles past, dragging an entire asteroid belt behind it.
Astronomical survey. The sky’s pulsing in different colours.
“GRADSKOD!!!” screamed Hubcap. As if in response, the scene changed. He was no longer on a star ship.
Construction project, jungle environment. Bugs creeping up his legs.
Construction project, tundra environment. Ice building up on his shoulders.
Construction project, desert environment. Sandstorm abrading his armour.
“Gradskod, I get it!” shouted Hubcap. “You’re showing me the future or some possible futures.”
Construction project, asteroid environment. Harpooning big chunks of nickel and reeling them in. Simple pleasures!
Construction project, cavern environment. Working down here is the only way to avoid detection by angry locals.
“How long are you going to do this?” queried Hubcap. “I don’t like it. We’re going too fast. I can’t adjust quickly enough.”
Construction project, star ship environment. Onboard factory producing drones with weapons. Millions of them, as far as the eye can see. What could possibly warrant such a vast armament operation?! No answer came.
This was Hubcap’s reality now: a succession of scenes, apparently from his future. It was hard to tell. Sometimes, he caught sight of his arms or legs. It proved that this was his story, told chaotically in random snippets. It might be genuine. It could also be a ‘what if?’ deal that wouldn’t happen to him. Furthermore, it could be realistic animation of fictional events. Perhaps it was a mixture. Gradskod wasn’t responding. All Hubcap could do was watch and learn.
Hard labour: twenty two scenes.
Planning: thirteen scenes for peace time, seven scenes for war.
Battle command: nineteen scenes using those armed drones.
Data collection: twenty one scenes in space, seventeen scenes in planetary biospheres.
Miscellaneous: forty three scenes, very varied in nature.
Telekinetic assault: thirty one scenes, extreme power, entire worlds shattered, stars detonated.
Was this still him? Would he become a god? It seemed unreal. He couldn’t come to terms with it. This wasn’t like him. He wouldn’t do such things, would he? How could he? Those worlds could’ve been populated! Surely he’d only annihilate worlds if... there was a VERY good reason. There had to be super-powered enemies.
“Gradskod please!” begged Hubcap. “I don’t want to see all this! There’s no need to show me anymore! I only want to go home! Have you found a way?”
Death scene. Shot in the chest.
Death scene. Lance through the brain.
Death scene. Melted by magma.
Death scene. Crushed by heavy debris.
Death scene. Bisected by laser saw.
Death scene. Grenade trapped in neck and detonated.
Death scene. Some kind of titanic metal object descends from the sky. It’s clearly artificial and at least five hundred kilometres wide. It blots out the sun. He tries to outrun it. The effort is futile. He’s pulverised by this thing. It doesn’t care. It wrecks a planet with one strike. With every touch, it slaughters countless life forms.
Hubcap couldn’t tolerate any more of this hellish torment. He fled heedlessly into hyperspace.
* * * * *
Central space port, Planet Zoyant, 4386 light years from Cybertron; 6th June 257,981 BC“Hubcap you dreamer, reboot yourself!” said Freeway, who had returned after a short mission. “You’re needed for some local liaison work.” Hubcap didn’t respond. He sat and stared ahead blankly.
“I think I understand,” said Freeway. “You’ve been taking more breaks than usual, so you need another break to recover!” Hubcap still didn’t move or communicate. He was offline and completely withdrawn.
“Worst possible audience for my jokes,” muttered Freeway. “What did that moronic slasher Slugfest do to you? I’m sorry but I have to call a medic. You need a check-up.” Freeway summoned assistance and stood by, watching ships come and go. He reflected on how this space port was so well-connected. From here, it was possible to visit more than half the galaxy. Most systems could be reached in less than a day. Over the last few thousand years, the Transformers had explored billions of star systems and gathered a fabulous wealth of information, not to mention some very useful life forms and substances. For example, fifty nine new alloys had been discovered and then incorporated into most currently active Transformer bodies. Freeway himself was thus the product of many systems and races. Just then, a flier approached at high speed. It slowed, transformed and landed next to Hubcap almost before Freeway could rise to greet... her?
“Umm, a thousand thanks for coming so quickly,” said Freeway. “You took me by surprise. You’re offline and you didn’t send an alert.”
“I’m Gradskod, free agent,” said Gradskod, not looking at Freeway as she scanned Hubcap. “I only want to examine him briefly. Your medic will be along shortly.”
“Hey, you shouldn’t touch him,” said Freeway, reacting quickly and grabbing her arm. “There could be a serious illness or injury. You might make it worse.” She’d just admitted that she wasn’t the official medic. Why’d she rushed to Hubcap so fast?
“I’m not touching him!” snapped Gradskod, glaring briefly at Freeway. “Scans only. I’m the best scanner around here. Don’t get jealous!” Freeway wanted to intervene further but Gradskod seemed very certain of what she was doing and determined to achieve it. If he pulled her away, there could be a fight. He didn’t want that. He kept hold of her arm, though. She continued probing Hubcap’s body and mind for another twenty five seconds. Then she smiled and her posture relaxed.
“He’s fine,” she reported. “I won’t give you a full dossier but, as far as I’m concerned, he has a clean bill of health.” (Actually, she’d made adjustments to Hubcap’s brain.)
“Hmpf, if you say so,” said Freeway, not quite believing her. “He’s still not his normal, communicative self.”
“He’s processing a large bundle of data,” said Gradskod. “He’ll finish in a few hours. Now, if you could release me I’ll be on my way and won’t trouble you further.”
“The monitors want to give you a full examination,” said Freeway firmly. “I’ve been told to keep you here until their enforcers arrive. I’d like an explanation too, in fact. Hubcap is one of my best friends.” Gradskod stared at him but kept silent as she mulled her options. A minute later, another offline flier appeared in the sky and accelerated toward them.
“Oh, that’s my friend Vector,” claimed Gradskod, pointing. “He’s a free agent too. He’ll attack anyone who tries to capture me. Beware; his weapons are top-class!” The situation was too risky. Vector looked formidable as he charged forward with scorching speed. Freeway judged that he had to release Gradskod. As he let go, she leapt into the air, transformed and flew away as quickly as she could. Freeway picked up Hubcap and carried him toward the nearest cover. Hiding behind a thick buttress base, Freeway drew a pistol and prepared to defend Hubcap. However, Vector had already changed course and was pursuing Gradskod. She had said that they were friends and, most likely, collaborators. As they dwindled into the distance, Freeway saw local interceptors close in, evidently trying to apprehend the pair. There was weapons fire. It wasn’t clear who was firing at whom. Freeway thought he saw Vector firing at Gradskod. Perhaps she had lied. Who were those two? They went beyond Freeway’s sight and kept accelerating. The interceptors lost them soon afterwards. Local tracking stations couldn’t maintain a lock. The two free agents were never seen again, at least not in their original forms. It was presumed that they’d teleported away.
“I think they’ve gone,” said Freeway, relieved. “We got lucky! I could tell that those two fliers were serious trouble. The problem with living by a space port is that we never know who’ll come and visit.” Hubcap was also relieved to have avoided a lethal strafing. However, he was concerned about the state of his memory. He was definitely in shock but he didn’t remember why. He had no recall from the time he put his mind into Slugfest up to the present. With what he knew of himself, he must’ve been subjected to repeated, highly traumatic events. His brain had reacted by eliminating all the traumatic memories. He suspected that Gradskod and Vector were connected to the trauma but he didn’t know how. Those memories were now out of reach yet their effects were profound. The entire episode was simultaneously sinister and frustrating. Hubcap didn’t want to dwell on it. He vowed to remain cheerful as much as possible in future. He would occupy himself with positive notions and happy talk. As a contingency, he would save his strength as much as possible by minimising effort. He knew now that terrible events could happen to him anytime. He wanted to give himself the best chance of survival. Let others carry the heavy burdens. He would travel light through life, paying his way with the gift of eloquent optimism! He stood up slowly, thanked Freeway and then opened his mind to rejoin the collective. Many friends were thus immediately aware of his recent strife. They did their best to comfort him while he was assessed for psychological treatment. He’d soon be back to his old self, or as near to it as they could manage!
NotesIn this part of history, Transformers are still coming to terms with the use of element 150. This amazing material, in the correct configuration, allows feats such as faster-than-light travel, living in hyperspace and the manipulation of many kinds of energy. By necessity, this involves time travel and frequent movement between parallel universes. Transformers (and anyone or anything else within range) can sometimes be transported to the past or future. This always means a permanent shift to a new universe, which is usually indistinguishable from the previous one. However, sometimes the new universe contains significant differences, which may impact on the travellers. Time travel can be done physically or spiritually. In the latter case, it’s possible for the travellers to return to their previous universes.
Hubcap inadvertently discovers that he can experience parallel universes by storing copies of his personality in hyperspace and dispatching them to those universes. His spark is able to jump from copy to copy, across multiple parallels. He can do this deliberately (with full awareness) and also instinctively (with full, partial or no awareness). Unfortunately, some of those parallels are disturbing and/or dangerous. After a few days, Gradskod removes some of Hubcap’s memories and prevents further jumping by making him forget the method. Neither she nor her masters want Hubcap to have this special ability, which is unreliable and psychologically harmful but potentially very effective against enemies.
Vector Prime should be familiar to long-time Transformer fans. He was introduced as a toy and cartoon character during the ‘Transformers: Cybertron’ period in 2004-2005.
Gradskod is my own character who is an agent of dark powers. She criss-crosses the multiverse, altering people and places for the benefit of her masters. As a non-Cybertronian Transformer, she can change her appearance and identity very easily. She’s a good warrior but her speciality is manipulating people. She always tries to do plenty of research before she targets a person, so that she has the best chance of success. In this story, she persuades Hubcap to become a slacker who makes minimal effort in his work. This trait persists for at least a few hundred thousand years and thus robs the Transformer armies of a potential star worker/warrior.
Visitation DreamA few months ago, I had a dream where I was meeting old friends in one of my ‘dream houses’. (In dreams I have many different houses.) Suddenly, without warning, she entered the house and walked toward me through the dark hallway. My friends stood aside. She emerged from the shadows and approached to within a metre of me. She was completely covered in a long black robe that touched the floor. It had a large hood that covered her head except her lower face. Think of a black monk’s outfit without a belt around the waist. It was made of fine, smooth fabric that blended into the shadows in a magical way.
“Oh, it’s
you!” I said, totally surprised. I’d recognised her immediately from her spiritual aura, stride pattern and other movements.
“Do you still love me?” she asked in a normal voice. Straight to the point: she didn’t even have to introduce herself.
“Yes!” I said immediately. “I was just thinking about you this morning.” (That was only two or three hours before in dream time.) She seemed satisfied with my response and then she faded away like a ghost, leaving only hazy shadows. [Reference: the movie 'Ghost', 1990.] I was left with a sense of being lucky and privileged. Since the dream had had a fairly strong effect, I then woke up.
Met Gala 2021, real life: She wore a big black dress that covered most of her, while Rocky was wrapped in an expensive duvet.
31/08/2021 Another visitation dream. She came to spend a little time with me. Her schedule was rather full. She was online frequently, working and messaging. She went away for a brief photo shoot and then returned. She said that the constant photography was sometimes 'violating'. She was had just enough time to walk with me for a few minutes. She seemed 'on edge' but was keeping it under control.
Shout out to my only brother, the 'Spurge Whisperer', who has been very patient and supportive. I have repaid him in £££, miscellaneous items and 'Spurge wisdom'. [We have no sisters.]
