Company - a short story.

Company

A short story by Steve Conoboy

It ate the cat last night, but I forgive It. I did like that cat, but I guess I can get another. Not right away, of course. Wouldn’t be much fun for the cat if I did, although the Greyling would probably be happy. Quite an appetite it’s got. Gobbled down all of my cat, fur and everything. Happened pretty quick. The cat was lolling about on the rug, the Greyling was listening to me rattle on, all calm and normal. Then the Greyling’s eyes bugged out of its head. A split-second was all it took. It was on the cat in the blink of an eye. Would have been me next if I hadn’t got over the shock and started talking again.

  Poor cat. Judging by the way the It looks at me, it’s got a similar fate lined up for my furless hide. Hasn’t tried to eat me yet, and I think I know why.

  I’ve had to learn a lot about the Greyling pretty quick. It loves the sunlight, thrives on it I think, which you wouldn’t expect to look at it. Sleeps from dusk till dawn. Precisely too, so I have to be on my toes there.

  Can’t sleep in, or I reckon that’ll be all for me. I’ll go the same way as the cat. Excuse me talking with my mouth full but it’s unavoidable. It’s become habit. No, more like a survival technique. While we’re awake, me and the Greyling, I talk. Constantly. Only thing that keeps the It at bay. It presses itself against a wall and listens, like it’s doing now. Follows me around the house to keep me in earshot and drinks in every word. It’s like some odd kind of hypnosis, not really like talking, filling the air with inane rubbish. It’s a spell, a really long spell I’ve got the Greyling under, and it’s easily broken. That’s why I don’t turn the television on any more. You can get distracted and forget. I’ve had a couple of close calls like that.

  I’m forced to sing to it while I’m in the shower. Quite loud so it can hear. I’m not a singer, I wasn’t built for music. At least it doesn’t come in the shower with me, just lurks in the room. It could do with a wash, though. Smells like an old attic. Not sure how to approach the washing of the Greyling. Or how it would react if I did. That’s why I haven’t done it yet. Neither would you if you’d been anywhere near those teeth.

  It’s not a looker. Man shaped, if that shape had been stretched and buckled. All its joints seem like they’ve been screwed inwards. Makes you think it must be slow and weak, looking at it. It’s not, though. Definitely not.

  I don’t know where it came from. I was putting the bin out one night, only takes a few moments so I left the door open. By the time I got back in the house it had snuck in. I leave the front or the back door open whenever I can now, but it doesn’t seem interested in leaving. Knowing my luck I’ll end up with another one creeping in at some point.

  I hate this time of the year when the days start getting longer. The winter wasn’t so bad, when the Greyling was getting itself off to sleep around four, five o’clock. Meant I had the evenings to myself. Could stop talking for a few hours too, although I’ve got to admit I still end up nattering on to myself. Force of habit. I think the whole experience has made me a bit eccentric. It would do the same to anyone, I suppose. These later evenings mean I have to keep my mouth going for longer. It’s a hell of a lot of time to fill up with talking. Sometimes I end up babbling nonsense just for the sake of stringing words together. The way an old person might coo and chitter to a beloved pet.

  The first couple of weeks were… fractious. I couldn’t work out what to do about the Greyling. Still haven’t really. I thought about reporting it to the police, but something tells me that wouldn’t work out very well. I’m not sure what I’d tell them to be honest. All it has done so far is menace me and eat the cat. There’s no doubt that it’s got more murderous intentions in mind… but if the police came round I suspect the Greyling would simply hide, and do a good job of it. That wouldn’t make me look very good. And it might be angry after.

  A while back I got tired of it following me around, always being in the corner of my eye. It’s just creepy. So I locked it in the bedroom. That’s why I don’t have a bedroom door any longer. It went completely berserk. For the sake of my doors I haven’t tried doing that again. I’ve never seen anything that furious. It could quite easily pluck my arms and legs out of the sockets. When it comes to the Greyling, I just don’t know what to do.

  Cleaning and talking to yourself seem to go together, don’t they? You know, it went mad when I locked it in the bedroom, but it’s fairly calm when it comes to me leaving the house. It has to be done at some time, going to shops and whatnot. Mowing the lawn. Posting a letter. Essential things you can’t get away from. Work, when I used to. I was invited to a meeting, and invited to leave. A result of my recently-developed eccentricities, I think.

  The bloody thing sets traps for me sometimes. They’re crude, but that makes them no less disturbing. I came home one time and the It had left me a sandwich on the stairs. A sandwich. There was a tube of superglue inside it. You can imagine what it had in mind. On another occasion it stuck a strand of gaffer tape across an open doorway at what the It guessed to be mouth-height, presumably for me to walk into. I got it across the neck. That gave it the idea that I’m garrotable, means I have to check all doorways whenever I get home.

  I tried to find out a bit more about the It, but where do you begin? I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life. It’s like a horrible cross between a human and a shaved lemur. I spent a while at the library on the internet, looking through websites of weird and wonderful creatures and mythical beasts and that sort of thing, sites about yetis and other things that don’t exist but people have photos of. There was nothing that looked or sounded anything like the Greyling. Maybe this Greyling is the only Greyling there is. Which isn’t very helpful for me, because it means I’m stuck without a handbook or instructions of any kind.

  I could take my own pictures, and I’ve tried. They don’t come out very well, though. It would be great if I could get a good clear picture of the Greyling, send it off to… whoever you send such things to. The news, a science magazine, I don’t know. But it doesn’t like to pose. And any pictures I do get come out smudgey. When you look at them it might as well be a gaunt old man diving out of frame. A better camera might produce clearer results, but I can’t exactly afford one of those when I’ve been invited out of my job.

  And what if this Greyling is the only Greyling? Wouldn’t that mean I held some sort of responsibility for it’s safeguarding? That worries me a lot. We’ve all heard what these sciency-types get up to, all their poking and prodding and cutting and after all that the It will be dead. Yes, it ate my cat, but perhaps cats are one of the main things it eats. I like chicken and beef and things like that. Cows eat grass, birds eat insects, that’s just the way things are.

  I’ve got neighbours on either side of me. I figured it might eventually get tired of waiting and slope off for an easier meal. There’s Mrs. Whitby out in her garden, hanging out her washing. She’s seventy-six and getting frail and has about as many visitors as I do and there’s nothing stopping it sneaking into her house when she isn’t looking. Horrible thing to think, that is, isn’t it? I’m not making excuses, but when you’re having to watch where you’re going all the time and you’re talking to yourself all the time and it’s been going on for months, well, sometimes you don’t think right, do you? It doesn’t really matter what dark thoughts I might have had. The It shows no inclination to go anywhere. Pushing it out with the broom seems unwise. The It seems to be easily riled up. And Mrs. Whitby might be going deaf, but not even she could fail to her it shrieking if I tried to shove it out while she was tending to her azaleas.

  I’d miss the Greyling if it went.

  Can’t believe I just said that. With all this nattering on, I come out with the funniest things sometimes. It often strikes me that I’m quite lucky there’s only the It around to hear me droning on. Anybody else would’ve had me locked up by now. Quick call to the funny farm, and off I go.

  I wonder if it would follow me there?

  When it comes down to it, I don’t really mind the Greyling so much. There’s no woman in this life of mine, no children pattering across these floors, just me and these walls that the Greyling clings to. There’s never a question these days whether it will be there, my strange and terrible companion. Always listening. Always attentive. Never boring. It chose to come here, and chooses to stay.

  A lot like a friend.

  I, er.

  Oh.

  I don’t know what to say.

            Er…

Quantum Trump

Ha ha. That title. Sounds like a tv show about inter-dimensional fart displacement.
Sorry. Got distracted already.

Start again.

I've figured it out! It's taken me AGES.  I knew something wasn't as it seems. I've spent weeks believing that I'm actually asleep because I thought none of what's happening could actually be happening. I mean, seriously, how can the state of this world be happening in anything but that crappy dream you have between your first and second alarms?

I've worked out what's going on with President Trump. I've sussed out why he is the way he is.

Brace yourselves. This is huge. Trump is the first ever Quantum President. Before you scoff, allow me to supply the evidence. I have lots of evidence. I've put at least half an hour into digging random stuff up.


You'd be pleased if you'd just found out that you are a quantum you too.

Seriously, I've done research and everything. That means that everything I'm about to say is true! No 'alternative facts' here! (Uuuurk I've just been sick in my mouth.)

Ready?

First, we need to explain quantum mechanics: basically, it's mental (there's your first clue). Like, really. The subatomic world is the reason why we still don't have a Unified Field Theory from our physicist chaps and chappettes. The laws that govern the world do not apply when you get all the way down to the teeny weeny particles and bits and bobs that make up the universe. General relativity and quantum mechanics don't fit together.

I lifted this from whatis.com. Sometimes a blog needs a little bit of outside help. Here we go, read carefully (I promise it will be worth your time (and Trump will be back very soon)):

The two major interpretations of quantum theory's implications for the nature of reality are the Copenhagen interpretation and the many-worlds theory. Niels Bohr proposed the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum theory, which asserts that a particle is whatever it is measured to be (for example, a wave or a particle), but that it cannot be assumed to have specific properties, or even to exist, until it is measured. In short, Bohr was saying that objective reality does not exist. This translates to a principle called superposition that claims that while we do not know what the state of any object is, it is actually in all possible states simultaneously, as long as we don't look to check.

Got that? So far so good. Now, everyone has surely heard of this cat:

To illustrate this theory, we can use the famous and somewhat cruel analogy ofSchrodinger's Cat. First, we have a living cat and place it in a thick lead box. At this stage, there is no question that the cat is alive. We then throw in a vial of cyanide and seal the box. We do not know if the cat is alive or if the cyanide capsule has broken and the cat has died. Since we do not know, the cat is both dead and alive, according to quantum law - in a superposition of states. It is only when we break open the box and see what condition the cat is in that the superposition is lost, and the cat must be either alive or dead.

If this was one of our cats, it would have already teleported outside of the box and positioned itself uncomfortably close to your head so it can scream for the hourly food ration it strongly believes it deserves.
Now this bit is really important:

The second interpretation of quantum theory is the many-worlds (or multiverse theory. It holds that as soon as a potential exists for any object to be in any state, the universe of that object transmutes into a series of parallel universes equal to the number of possible states in which that the object can exist, with each universe containing a unique single possible state of that object. Furthermore, there is a mechanism for interaction between these universes that somehow permits all states to be accessible in some way and for all possible states to be affected in some manner. Stephen Hawking and the late Richard Feynman are among the scientists who have expressed a preference for the many-worlds theory.

The next step in computing will be the quantum computer. Instead of calculating in terms of one's and zeros, a quantum computer can be in both states at the same time. The increase in computing power will be extraordinary.

But, would you believe it, before we even have quantum computers we have a Quantum Trump. That's how advanced the man is. You think he's dumb? You think he's evil? You think he's unpleasant? He's actually more than any of these things, because these are aspects of humanity, and he is more than human...

He is Quantum Trump! He has subatomic powers!

This explains why his first speech before a joint session of Congress contradicts his actual policies: read all about it by clicking this link to the Huffington Post HERE. A few choice points: “At one point, he mentioned that he was targeting and criminalizing immigrants, but at the same time, he’s saying we need to unite?”
And:
Similarly, Trump promised in his speech that his administration would “promote clean air and clear water.” But earlier on Tuesday, Trump signed an executive order that would dismantle the Waters of the United States rule, also known as the Clean Water Rule.
And:
Trump promised to protect the rights of women, particularly “to invest in women’s health.” But a central promise from both him and the GOP-led Congress is to repeal the Affordable Care Act, or Obamacare, which provided significant protections for women.

Do you see? Superposition! He is quite literally saying one thing while doing another. And what have we just learned about quantum physics? 'while we do not know what the state of any object is, it is actually in all possible states simultaneously, as long as we don't look to check'. 
Therefore, Quantum Trump is both doing and not doing all the things he does and doesn't say at the same time. He's not lying. He's not full of shit. He's not some spoilt-brat rich-boy who thinks everyone is his play thing and that being President is the latest cool game. He's not an unpleasant numb-nut who is potentially one of the worst things inflicted upon this planet at a time when, more than ever, it needs leaders who can try to unite us and, at the very least, lead by positive example. You've read that whole situation wrong. The orange-wigged potato-face is being all versions of himself in all universes at the same space/time. Marvellous. Incredible. Mind-bending. We shouldn't be horrified. We should be amazed!

He is all Trumps at once. In fact, now that I've had this incredible realisation, we should be referring to him (hims) in the plural. Trumps.

I couldn't bring myself to have another picture of Trumps in my blog. So, this is my cat.

Trumps and Tonto are approximately equal in intelligence, I believe.

Quantum politics explains a lot of other curiosities as well. For example, the existence of alternative facts. Up until now that awful, disgusting non-phrase has made me almost throw up in my mouth each and every time I've had to hear it or read it. Foolishly I allowed myself to become upset and a nonsense concept that literally cannot exist! Now, of course, I understand more clearly that it is a direct result of quantum politics. All of these facts really do exist, merely spread across all of the possible universes. What is considered lies in this universe is the honest-to-goodness truth in another. We've simply got to put up with all this shit compacted into our world now, and who on earth do we think we are to complain. Let all these facts in! Let them cross the borders! (Oh, Quantum Trumps might not like that - but then again, he might!)

Perhaps this is why the POTUS believed something terrible happened in Sweden when it didn't. At least it didn't in our reality, or the way we perceive our reality. In some other universe, however, Sweden is Terrorist Central, and they eat bombs for breakfast (or something).

It could also be the reason why his handshake is such a stomach cramping awkward mess. It's because he's shaking all the hands of everyone ever, and also not shaking them at the exact same time. Quantum handshakes. That's way too complicated a manoeuvre for anyone, even the POTUS.

Finally, quantum mechanics explains how we've actually managed to end up in this situation: down there in the quantum world, somewhere, at some point, stupid shit has to happen. I mean, how else do you explain a dumb joke in a cartoon becoming real? That kind of stuff only happens in dreams, movies, cartoons (obviously), and the minds of people who've been hit very, very hard on the head.

(This quantum physics stuff gets really, really weird - a read a piece once about how the reaction of a subatomic particle in one part of the universe is mirrored by its twin somewhere else in the universe. From that little tidbit, one could surmise that somewhere out there is a Twin Trumps who doesn't build ridiculous walls that he thinks other countries will pay for (HA!) and who actually doesn't hate people for such basic reasons as skin colour and race and religion and all the things that don't make people evil... But Twin Trumps? I think I'll leave the rabbits in that hole alone.)

You might also realise what else this means: there are a near infinite number of universes in which there is no President Trump, in which there is no Trump at all. Hmm.

IN CONCLUSION:
According to this new Quantum President theory, we now have two options, two very different ways of existing.
We can either live as I have for some time now, wandering around in a dazed horror;
Or, we can be amazed and delighted to find ourselves living in this world of brave new science wherein we can accept unpleasantness, greed, and general hatred of anyone who does not look exactly like ourselves, because in another universe it has to be all good, baby!

The subatomic particles have lived in utter madness for billions of years. Now it's our turn, suckers!

This post, therefore, proves either: a) Trumps is clever beyond all our wildest dreams, or b) both he and I are dumb as shit.
Hey, in the quantum world both of these alternative facts could be true at once!

I don't know what's going on any more.
I give up.