I knew Prepotente had some magical upgrade that allowed him to exist in toxic environments, though that, too, had a time limit.
Carl: Prepotente! Don’t freak out. I’m running to you.
He didn’t answer.
As I rushed across the floor, I noted that it was night outside, and this apartment overlooked a massive glittering metropolis. We weren’t at a farm in the Italian countryside.
This was New York City.
But that was clearly Miriam Dom. The piano was huge and shiny dark wood, but Miriam was in pajamas, and there was a Diet Coke and some sort of take-out container with chopsticks sitting atop the piano. There was also an open bottle of wine but no wineglass. She appeared to be alone in the apartment.
There was a photo on the wall showing a small farm. Another obviously vintage photo of a couple getting married.She had a small curio cabinet that featured several goat-themed knickknacks.
There was also a whole line of photographs showing Miriam onstage wearing a sparkling formal gown, sitting behind a piano.
The giant Miriam here was playing her heart out. She had the crossed-out eyes, but she swayed back and forth as her fingers flew across the piano. But as I watched, an uneasy feeling started to come over me. It was difficult to tell for certain because of the missing eyes, but it didn’t seem like she was having a good time.
And then I saw the broken wineglass on the floor next to the piano chair, a puddle of red wine spilled everywhere, soaking into the wood.
“Prepotente,” I said as I pulled up, “we’re running out of time. Look, I know this is hard for you, but you can’t just?—”
“This is my mother if she had never stayed to take care of her parents,” Prepotente said, interrupting me. He pulled himself to a standing position and wiped his eyes. “She would’ve become a professional concert pianist. She wouldn’t ever have known me. She would’ve traveled the world. She would’ve had everything she had ever dreamed of.”
“This isn’t real,” I said. “It’s just a possibility. It’s something that didn’t happen. It doesn’t matter.”
“Nobody wants me around,” he said. “I didn’t get to sing when I was practicing so hard, and nobody even said they were sorry they didn’t get to hear me. Everyone is so mean. Imani seemed like she didn’t want me to join the guild.” He gestured upward. “And now seeing this? It’s too much, Carl. I don’t fit in anywhere.” He let out a sad bleat. “I wish I’d never taken the pet biscuit.”
My eyes caught something else. On the kitchen counter was a long, long line of prescription bottles. I didn’t know what that meant or what that implied, but it seemed important. We didn’thave time for this, especially now, here. Everything still stung from what I’d just had to do to get here.
But still, I held back the retort welling up inside of me. I took a breath.
Survival has more than one meaning.
“Listen, buddy,” I said, pointing up at Miriam, who appeared to be playing faster and faster. “Look at her. She lives in this super-nice apartment, but she is clearly alone. I don’t think she’s happy here.”
“She wasn’t happy at home, either. I don’t remember as well as Donut does, but I do remember some things. She was lonely. Oh, Mother, how I wish I could stay. I wish this was my forever.”
Shit,I thought, realizing how easily we’d gotten off with our what-if room.
“Maybe shewaslonely in the real world,” I said, trying my hardest to be gentle, hyperaware of the timer. “But you didn’t let me finish. I guarantee she wasn’t as lonely there as she appears to be here. She didn’t haveyouand her brothers and sisters.”
He didn’t answer.
Donut: CARL, WHAT IS HAPPENING?
Carl: Give me twenty seconds, then come pick us up.
I continued. “This what-if bullshit is insidious. It’s like a goddamned toxic virus in your brain, and once you start going down that road, it’s hard to correct. Of course things would be different if we did this or did that. But we can’t worry about it because there’s literally nothing we can do about it. And if this damn AI is finding itself stuck in loops, running what-if scenarios over and over again, it’s no wonder it’s going insane.” I put my hand on Prepotente’s shoulder. “Look, buddy. We don’t have time. I’m sorry if we didn’t get to see you sing. But you are always welcome with us.” I paused, remembering my time onPlenty of Plenty. “We are overwhelmed, and all of this sucks,but you and I and Donut and everyone else, we are a herd, and—Oooff.”
Prepotente practically tackled me with a tight, suffocating hug. He started to sob.
Both the food truck and Sweety pulled up, keeping a distance from each other to keep the containments active. Above, the music was getting faster and faster. Miriam hadn’t noticed us. Sweety the tapir let out a strange, elephant-like snort and her long nose thing snuffled at my hair, messing it all up. She smelled just as bad as the splooge tasted.
The caprid pulled himself free and then looked up at Jurgen. “What are you waiting for, you oaf! Time is running out!”
I exchanged a look with the large barbarian and shrugged. I turned to get back into the truck.
“Carl,” Prepotente said, stopping me. He wiped his eyes again.