Quite

"Oh, don't you just love libraries? Quel ambiance!"

"Shush!" I whisper scream. It was those big oak tables. No, it was the proctor. Then again, it might have been me. Just mean me. I couldn't take any more of him. Or it. Or she.

Being a roundish lout sort with appendages that swiveled about made generalized intelligence look amuck, on roller skates, it was. It was a person, impersonating a being, a Whatever?

He, uh it had a name, didn't he, it, she?

"Quite!" The thing said. "My name is Quite!"

We both stopped. "That's quite a name. Where did you get it?"

"I gave it to me."

"Where's me?"

"What?"

Oh how I loved those moments, getting to be fewer and farther between when my meaning isn’t entirely clear. Delicious.

But I was about to be cut short by the beady-eyed proctor, who having locked on target, was approaching us posthaste. Quel horreur!

He sniffed at me as he drew near. "You know the intrinsic meaning of the word 'QUIET!' do you not?" the proctor roared.

I nodded and Quite nodded. So daring of us not to speak. But when the proctor turned to return to his perch, Quite became animated.

"He didn't say my name right," Quite complained.

Now it was my turn to be flummoxed. In a huff, I grabbed he, she, it, and beat it.

#

Well, no, I didn't beat it! Violence marks the twenty-first century. In the quad, we worked while things remained still.

"If you beat me, you will regret it," Quite snorted, shifting on the same balmy rock I fell upon, the one away from everyone else.

People were dreaming about me, lappies on squint. Bright sunshine does that, and turns skin red too.

"Nobody is dreaming about you!" Quite thought.

The delivery, not the content, provoked my anger. Shouldn't read my mind when I'm trying to study.

"You’re one implant away, mon Cherie!" Whatever tootled.

"In another life!"

Quite's appendages swirled and went 3D, scenes cascading like droplets of morning dew, here a vacay, there a shindig, a new yew, plopped down from haven, a Taxus baccata, evergreen with red berry type fruit. Right there at my feet.

"Clearly you are bored!" I shouted, springing up.

"Not quite there!" Whatever replied.

“You certainly excel at being a nuisance for something with infinite intelligence! I've had enough! Vamoose! Skedaddle! Git!"

I shoved Quite off my rock. Whatever just hung in the air, tsk tsking and still being a nuisance. I saw a tear in the eye.

"Everything is about you!" Quite complained. “You never consider that I also have dreams, hopes, and fears.”

I spun down my 3D lappie. A hug? Wild.

#

But you know there was never enough of some things. It's curious to say, but when everything could be had for nothing, it's so trivial to say that everything didn’t matter. You feel so sorry for anyone born before the 23rd century.

Nope. I’ll try again. Quite was so unusual that I liked Whatever constantly. You flatline while still breathing. The awesomeness of life collapses inward.

But it isn’t just that there is too much of everything, and you’re overwhelmed with choices. Take that Taxus baccata. Could you please?

But that is just the start. What about all the other things, the exquisite Pomeranians that tumbled out of my air car the other day, yapping and yipping, so frisky and fun to be with? They are unique, but not like the Rottweilers Whatever conjured up, who promptly terrorized the poor little beasties.

I’m not kidding. Quite sure that I am not. Which started my next problem. Besides calling the SPCA to come and take all the dogs off our hands. Quite was concerned.

“Existence has a double meaning!” Whatever yelled. “You’re part of one part, and I am part of the other.”

“My part is bigger!” I snorted.

Whatever was flummoxed. “What does bigger have to do with it? When Whatever can happen?”

“Huh?” I replied. We were at the beach. There was surf and frisbees and sun. And so much sand that’s white and hot. I could smell suntanning lotion, and there were women everywhere. Looking at me. Of course.

“I didn’t bring my bathing suit?” I complained as I took a gander into my beach bag. “No, sorry! It’s fine!”

Which of the ten suits did I pick? None of them. But Whatever wasn’t done yet.

“I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling your implant!” Quite was so excited. Whatever was twirling around, appendages akimbo, splattering pop cycles and soft drinks everywhere. I shoved Quite towards the tufted hill where the long grass could hide some of the mess.

“Will you stop that!” I shouted. One woman rolled over on her towel, and started pointing and laughing at us.

“Look at those two!” she yelled to a friend who was immersed in her 3D lappie. “They’re still doing whatever!”

I frowned and gave Quite another shove. “Stop it!” I screamed as loud as I could.

Then everything went on autopilot, even without an implant, the wind kicking up a storm. Desperation spawns all kinds of things in the 23^rd century, don’t you know?

The surf got dangerous, and a storm came in. It was all black. But no one is afraid. So Twentieth Century, that.

Ahem, it appears. Quite something.

Whatever spins up.

"You called, master?"

"Whenever you like is here."

"Ah, a like unto my own," said Quite, whose name changed from that very day.