Split Infinity

Hulk took it, almost burying Stile’s extremity in his huge paw. “I did what was right. I worked every angle I could, but you came through. You were the better man.  You won.”

Stile waved that aside. “I wanted to humble you, because you are so big. It was a bad motive. I’m sorry.”

“Someday you should try being big,” Hulk said. “To have people leery of you, staring at you, making mental pictures of gorillas as they look at you. Marveling at how stupid you must be, because everybody knows wit is in inverse proportion to mass. I wanted to prove I could match you in your specialty, pound for pound. I couldn’t.”

That did something further to Stile. The big man, seen as a freak. His life was no different from Stile’s in that respect. He just happened to be at the other extreme of freakiness: the giant instead of the dwarf.  Now Stile felt compelled to do something good for this man.

“Your tenure is short,” he said. “You may not have time to reach the qualifying Rung. You will have to leave Proton soon. Are you interested in an alternative?”

“No. I do not care for the criminal life.”

“No, no! A legitimate alternative, an honorable one.  There is a world, a frame—an alternate place, like Proton, but with atmosphere, trees, water. No Citizens, no serfs, just people. Some can cross over, and remain there for life.”

Hulk’s eyes lighted. “A dream world! How does a man earn a living?”

“He can forage in the wilderness, eating fruits, hunting, gathering. It is not arduous, in that sense.”

“Insufficient challenge. A man would grow soft.”

“Men do use weapons there. Some animals are monsters. There are assorted threats. I think you would find it more of a challenge than the domes of Proton, and more compatible than most planets you might emigrate to, if you could cross the curtain. I don’t know whether you can, but I think you might.”

“This is not another world in space, but another dimension? Why should I be able to cross, if others

can’t?”

“Because you came here as a serf. You weren’t born here; you had no family here. So probably you don’t exist in Phaze.”

“I don’t follow that.”

“It is hard to follow, unless you see it directly. I will help you try to cross—if you want to.”

Hulk’s eyes narrowed. “You have more on your mind than just another place to live. Where’s the

catch?”

“There is magic there.”

Hulk laughed. “You have suffered a delusion, little giant!  I shall not go with you to that sort of realm.”

Stile nodded sadly. He had expected this response, yet had been moved to try to make it up to the man he had humbled. “At least accompany me to the curtain where I cross, to see for yourself to what extent that world is real. Or talk to my girl Sheen. Perhaps you will change your mind.”

Hulk shrugged. “I can not follow you today, but leave your girl with me. It will be a pleasure to talk with her, regardless.”

“I will return to talk with you,” Sheen told Hulk.

They shook hands again, and Stile left the room.

Sheen accompanied him. “When I return to Phaze this time—“ he began.

“I will tell Hulk what you know of that world,” she finished. “Be assured he will pay attention.”

“I will come back in another day to challenge for Rung Five. That will qualify me for the Tourney.”

“But you are too tired to challenge again so soon!” she protested.

“I’m too tired to face the Yellow Adept too,” he said. “But my friends must be freed. Meanwhile, we’ve already set the appointment for the Rung Five Game. I want to qualify rapidly, vindicating your judgment; nothing less will satisfy my new employer.”

“Yes, of course,” she agreed weakly. “It’s logical.”

She turned over the special materials he had ordered and took him to the proper section of the curtain. “My friends had an awful time gathering this stuff,” she complained. “It really would have been easier if you had been a reasonable robot, instead of an unreasonable man.”

“You have a reasonable robot in my image,” he re-minded her. “Be sure to reanimate him.”

She made a mock-strike at him. “You know a robot can’t compare to a real live man.”

Stile kissed her and passed through.

CHAPTER 16 - Blue

Stile emerged, as planned, just beyond the yellow fog that demarked the Yellow Demesnes. He could not, per his agreement and the curse Yellow had set against his return, enter that for himself—but he shouldn’t need to. He set down the cage containing the owl and donned his clothing. In the pockets were a folded null-weight wetsuit and a metalsaw: the one to protect against thrown potions, the other to sever the cage bars.  He hoped Kurrelgyre or Neysa would have the common sense to saw out a bar-section and use it as a lever to break the locks of the other cages. If they didn’t, or if anything else went wrong—

Stile stifled that thought. He had to free his friends, one way or another. If he could not do it harmlessly, he would have to make arrangements to destroy the Yellow Adept—and he did not want to do that. She was not really a bad witch.