{"id":1360,"date":"2021-04-01T01:31:17","date_gmt":"2021-04-01T00:31:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/edgeverse.org\/?page_id=1360"},"modified":"2021-04-01T04:12:46","modified_gmt":"2021-04-01T03:12:46","slug":"ap","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/edgeverse.org\/?page_id=1360","title":{"rendered":"April. Fool."},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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Our short stories typically revolve around existing characters, such as Rob and Dave and\u2026 well\u2026 pretty much just Rob and Dave. Rob and Dave are extremely fun characters to write since there are literally no limits to what you can do.<\/p>

They work as a waiter and a towel-delivery person on a space-ship at some point in the distant future, travelling to the Edge of known space, getting drunk and not really caring very much about what happens.<\/p>

In this short story, Rob realises it\u2019s April 1st<\/sup>, the \u2018Day of Fools\u2019, the \u2018Day of Dave.\u2019 It\u2019s a day spoken of in legend, a day where the worst could happen.
What terrible things does Dave have planned this time? What will he do?<\/p>

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Rob awoke to an empty room.<\/p>

It didn\u2019t worry him unduly\u2014these things quite often happened, and a lack of Dave was the opposite of something to be concerned about. It would probably just mean that he had enjoyed a successful evening of separating a girl from any faith she might have left in humanity. Many such girls ended up giving homosexuality a try, or giving up on men altogether in a different way, and just dating people like Rob. Not actually<\/i> Rob though\u2014his dating successes remained entirely imaginary.<\/p>

Dave might have taken his date back to her<\/i> cabin, or to an escape pod, or they might just as likely wake up on a lower recycling deck behind a row of metal bins. Who could tell with Dave, whose idea of romance was rather like punching someone in the throat as a polite form of greeting?<\/p>

While Dave was not widely known as a romantic person, he was somehow capable of giving exactly that impression in small doses, typically up to the point of seeing a girl naked, and then his interest in her usually vanishes altogether. It had equally been noted that most women usually lost interest in the whole business of being alive after seeing him naked, to which he would happily report that it simply proved that the universe was correctly balanced.<\/p>

Dave was widely considered to be best in small doses for a whole host of terrible reasons, and the smaller the better.<\/p>

Rob yawned, stretched, and let his mind drift. He had a few minutes yet to enjoy the quiet of the darkened room until his alarm went off, plunging him headlong into yet another day of wishing he\u2019d never been born.<\/p>

Dave had once pointed out the erroneous nature of Rob\u2019s ever having existed, and irritatingly, he not only seemed annoyingly correct but had also clearly put a lot of thought into it. Perhaps even more irritating was that he\u2019d done it with the benefit of a white-board, three different coloured pens, conference scale laminated visual aids, and printed handouts. Even more annoying than that, this had happened in the crew lounge around dinner-time with a live broadcast to Rob\u2019s parents. He had demonstrated, quite ably, that while Rob\u2019s having been born was itself an argument against the existence of god\u2014the underlying problem was simply that he\u2019d been born Rob<\/i>.<\/p>

Rob was ginger. He was an underachiever. He was a waiter with most of a degree in general engineering. He was dull. He was socially inept, and he smelled very slightly of cheese and wet fur for much of the time, for reasons that could not be adequately explained.<\/p>

Women tended not to be attracted to such things, and no amount of begging ever seemed to help. He once tried to attract a woman he considered his equal, and was threatened with a \u2018polite greeting\u2019 after implying that they might have something in common. Both he and Dave were often threatened with a punch to the throat, but usually on different ends of a date, and at least Dave\u2019s date had the benefit of actually happening first.<\/p>

This had all been bad enough, but Dave had made it worse, in a way that only Dave could.<\/p>

That part of the story had all begun three days earlier. Rob found himself recalling the details as he wandered the purgatory between blissful sleep and hell-like wakefulness.<\/p>



<\/p>

*****<\/p>



<\/p>

\u201cRob!\u201d Dave began proudly. \u201cI\u2019ve got good news!\u201d<\/p>

The crew lounge was largely empty, as the shifts hadn\u2019t officially ended yet, but Dave\u2019s never officially began for reasons that nobody seemed entirely sure about.<\/p>

\u201cI helped!<\/i>\u201d<\/p>

Rob sipped at a beer. It was wasn\u2019t quite flat and it wasn\u2019t quite cold, which was actually ideal as it also wasn\u2019t quite beer. As the flavour lit up his senses, he made a sharp hissing sound and pulled his now purple-stained lips tightly back in a reflexive grimace. It was rather like being gently poked in the eyeball with a speeding bus, only it left a slightly worse after-taste, and fewer brain cells would be registered as survivors in the long run.<\/p>

He cringed, not at the flavour of the beer, but at the words that had now invaded his psyche, words which were just so much worse than awful. Dave almost never helped, and when he did, it was the opposite of helpful. His version of helping was a lot like Vlad the Impaler\u2019s version of a peaceful protest against overreach.<\/p>

\u201cHow did you help, Dave?\u201d Rob closed his eyes and waited for it. It could be bad, as frankly, good<\/i> just wasn\u2019t one of the options available. He hoped against reason that he<\/i> wasn\u2019t going to be the recipient of whatever \u2018help\u2019 Dave was punishing someone by offering.<\/p>

\u201cYou know how you\u2019re laying there in bed, and you\u2019d just recalled a presentation I\u2019d given prior to the start of the story where we\u2019d established the erroneous nature of your having been born Rob<\/i>? It occurred to me that a huge injustice has been done. Surely nobody could deserve such harsh punishment for their crimes, and it\u2019s not as if you\u2019re interesting enough to actually commit serious crimes in the first place. It seems to me that for the crime of being you, your punishment is being you, which is completely unfair.\u201d<\/p>

Rob didn\u2019t like where this was going and wondered if he was awake enough to be remembering this the way is actually happened. \u201cDave, thank you for finding a new and exciting way to make me feel even worse about everything in my life than I already do!\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI hadn\u2019t finished\u2026\u201d<\/p>

Of course he hadn\u2019t.<\/i><\/p>

\u201cRob, I\u2019ve recently become impassioned by complaints, and have thus submitted one on your behalf.\u201d<\/p>

This made no sense. \u201cWhat did you do<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>

Dave smirked, an expression that suggested something unpleasant was coming, in much the same way that a pile of cat skeletons round the back of a curry-house might suggest that the dining inside might not be of the very highest degree of excellence\u2014unless of course the restaurant was in one of the touristy parts of India, or pretty much anywhere in South London, where said cat skeletons might prove to be more reassuring than some of the alternatives.<\/p>

He said, horribly proudly, \u201cI made a complaint on your behalf!\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYou complained about me being Rob?\u201d Rob grunted.<\/p>

Dave shrugged, nodding slightly back at him. \u201cIt didn\u2019t seem fair. We\u2019re English! Writing a letter of complaint seemed the thing to do! It\u2019s something I\u2019ve been thinking about a lot lately.\u201d<\/p>

Rob wasn\u2019t quite following the path of Dave\u2019s logic, but if such a path existed, it was disused, overgrown, and lead nowhere; this was nothing particularly new. \u201cWho did you complain to?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cEveryone!\u201d<\/p>

Rob grimaced openly. Dave wasn\u2019t known to exaggerate\u2014if he had done something awful, that awful thing had been done on a grand scale, and there would be no overstating it.<\/p>

\u201cWhen you say, everyone\u2026<\/i> ?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cThe Captain, your mother, Santa Claus, the Prime Minister of Earth, the Queen of Space, your last four supervisors, the Trumpkin\u2014a genetically crossed half pumpkin, half human hybrid spliced with the DNA of the thirty fifth generation of a Donald Trump clone that had been created to investigate the upper limits of vegetable intelligence and the lower limits of human, 569 different assorted gods, the star of every reality vid-show from the last 42 years\u2014only 16 of whom survived their drug dependency, The Glorious Leader of the Free Galaxy, and the superhero team \u2018The Archangels\u2019 who have now retired, have their own chat-show, and frequently complain that they rather missed their calling.\u201d<\/p>

Rob sighed. This had all the hallmarks of being the beginning<\/i> of something rather than the end<\/i>. Still, it could be that the matter was now closed and only his embarrassment might remain. He dared to hope\u2026 \u201cAnyone else?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cSecurity head Bernard, a sentient lemon on Coolytron 4\u2014the lemon planet\u2014who can do a really convincing dog impression, the great robotic brain of Planet Oz\u2014who we all know is really an old man called Gerald, and \u2018The Clintron,\u2019 the vile war-robot-brain monster from New Chicago, that\u2019s now really rusty and old, clinically insane, and smells of urine.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cEnough!\u201d Rob said wearily. \u201cI\u2019m think I\u2019m up to my limit of \u2018Dave\u2019 for now.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cAre you sure?\u201d he said. \u201cThere\u2019s actually quite a surprising amount more.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYou didn\u2019t really send a letter of complaint to all those people in my name, did you?\u201d Rob knew he had, and that this was probably going to be even worse than he could imagine.<\/p>

Dave grinned at him and slowly nodded. \u201cDo you want to know what it said?\u201d<\/p>

Rob shook his head. He clearly did not.<\/p>

\u201cIt said, Dear universe, and the people that seem to control the little piece of it of which I\u2019m aware<\/i>.<\/p>

\u201cAs is painfully apparent, I am a horribly wretched person with unnaturally ginger hair. I have the charisma and physical appeal of a dead rat, lying mouldering in a gutter somewhere, and frankly, my sex life is suffering for it. As this whole universe-thing seems to be set up with the clear intention of passing on my cripplingly unfortunate genes so that others can share in my terrible misfortune, I feel the need to complain<\/i>.<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019m unaware of any transgression I\u2019ve made that might be terrible enough for this awful fate to be thrust upon me. My only recourse, therefore, is to complain in the hope that someone might be able to rectify whatever error has caused this<\/i>.<\/p>

\u201cYours inferiorly,<\/i><\/p>

\u201cRob.<\/i><\/p>

\u201cFailure.<\/i>\u201d<\/p>

Rob just sat there for a moment, blinking. At first, it struck him that it was actually a fairly well constructed piece of writing, but what was more striking was that now everyone who had anything to do with any aspect of his life now had it in front of them.<\/p>

\u201cDave, what do you think is going to happen? Why did you do this?\u201d<\/p>

Dave frowned with that annoying look he often wore when he felt that the reasoning behind his bizarre behaviour should be obvious and immediately apparent to everyone.<\/p>

\u201cMostly to annoy you,\u201d he admitted with a shrug. \u201cIt occurred to me that I hadn\u2019t done anything really interesting for a while, and that\u2019s just not like me. I briefly considered shaving your head while you were sleeping. I asked the computer to extrapolate what you\u2019d look like without hair, and the results were horrifying.\u201d<\/p>

Rob was very slightly intrigued. \u201cI looked bad?\u201d<\/p>

Dave seemed thoughtful for a moment. \u201cWorse.<\/i>\u201d<\/p>

Rob sighed wearily. \u201cYou\u2019re an idiot, Dave.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI know!\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI mean, you\u2019re really, really<\/i> an idiot, Dave,\u201d he insisted, not that it would do much good. Trying to argue with Dave was like hammering a rubber nail into a titanium brick with a glass hammer.<\/p>

\u201cI know!\u201d he agreed with a wide grin.<\/p>

\u201cNo!\u201d Rob reiterated, facing him directly. \u201cYou are the stupidest thing in the universe.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI don\u2019t know, Rob! Have you ever seen the history of American Presidential Elections? People are generally pretty stupid, Rob. I mean, \u201850 Shades of Grey\u2019 wasn\u2019t always a brand of toilet paper\u2014it was once considered literature.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cNobody reads toilet-paper,\u201d Rob grumbled. \u201cI still think you\u2019re the dumbest creature in the galaxy.\u201d<\/p>

Dave rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Something was going on in there. It was something unpleasant. \u201cI think there\u2019s a way to prove this,\u201d he suggested. \u201cPerhaps some kind of religion, with perhaps some kind of free T-shirt?\u201d<\/p>

Rob felt a twinge of near panic. \u201cLet\u2019s just leave it and move on with our lives\u2014mine horribly unsatisfying, and yours which is suspiciously good for a man with nothing between his ears but spitefulness towards his only friend.\u201d<\/p>

Dave nodded. \u201cIt is pretty good, but please don\u2019t compare it to yours\u2014that just fills you with false hope and demeans everyone else.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYou\u2019re an idiot, Dave!\u201d Rob reminded him, as if saying it over and over again might change the fact that Dave was agreeing with him proudly.<\/p>

Well, his brain was definitely doing something. He gestured with a proud flourish of his hand, and shouted rather too loudly, \u201cAnd I\u2019m going to prove it.\u201d<\/p>

Rob shook his head sadly. He opened his mouth to speak, but his brain had clearly had enough and was now refusing to cooperate further.<\/p>



<\/p>

*****<\/p>



<\/p>

The alarm screamed and Rob sat up sharply. Realisation had set in; grim, ugly, dark realisation.<\/p>

\u201cNo!\u201d he hissed to himself. \u201cIt can\u2019t be\u2026\u201d<\/p>

But it could. And it was.<\/p>

He scrambled from the bed, kicking the sheets away so that they fell loosely to the floor in a crumpled heap. There was a refreshing lack of crackling flames\u2014that was something, at least.<\/p>

Suddenly, he picked up his feet, recoiling back to safety. It was too dangerous, just plain stupid to put them down. Anything could be down there on the floor.<\/p>

Dave had once electrified the panels, just to make a point about people using the bathroom at night, which apparently annoyed him slightly for some reason. And, so that the point would be especially pointed, he\u2019d done this during the day. According to him, that explained everything that needed explaining.<\/p>

He\u2019d managed to find a kind of signal pulse that would go straight through the soles of shoes, and have a pronounced effect on the insides of a human; specifically, on that human\u2019s ability not to instantly expel all traces of physical waste in a single, hugely violent spasm. The effect of all this was that the point was quite well made, but an arguably unforeseen side effect was that the ship\u2019s surgeon was sufficiently impressed with the results to have Rob written up in two separate medical journals, and his ruined underwear become quite famous for the experience. It had once been invited to a fairly lavish dinner-party, which was a significant blow to Rob\u2019s ego, since not only was his soiled underwear more interesting than he was, but he was also stuck serving drinks at a party in its honour.<\/p>

\u201cComputer!\u201d Rob barked. \u201cWhat\u2019s the current date?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cApril 1st<\/sup>,\u201d it told him. \u201cAll day!\u201d<\/p>

The words reverberated around his mind, numbing his senses. His head swam in fear; he could feel the sound of blood as it pulsed through his eardrums in the cold, dark silence of the room.<\/p>

\u201cNo\u2026\u201d he gasped. It was the day of fools. It was the Day of Dave<\/i>. It was a day when anything could happen, had happened, and almost definitely would happen again.<\/p>



<\/p>

Supervisor Betty Swallsac watched with morbid curiosity as Rob made his way dubiously into the upper cafe. She stepped out from the kitchen with an expression of bewilderment painted on her careworn face, a face that thought it had seen everything but was fast coming to realise that this was not the case.<\/p>

Rob\u2019s ginger head peered around the door. He crawled in a few steps, waving his arms around before him. He quickly edged back again. Once more he stalked forwards, feeling his way along the walls with the very tips of his fingers and kicking his feet out ahead of him, his wild eyes darting about fearfully.<\/p>

In this manner, he slowly made his way along the wall towards the entrance of the kitchen. He looked up at Betty\u2019s expectant face, smiled weakly, and stood up straight. He glanced around one last time, and then seemed to slump as he let out a tense lungful of air.<\/p>

\u201cRob?\u201d she began with a huff. \u201cHave you gone completely and utterly insane? More than usual, I mean?\u201d<\/p>

Rob nodded sadly\u2014it was an entirely reasonable question. \u201cIt\u2019s the first of April,\u201d he told her. \u201cOn this ship, we call it \u2018the Day of Dave\u2019.\u201d<\/p>

\u201c\u2018The Day of Dave\u2019?\u201d she repeated back to him, not sounding terribly convinced that his explanation was convincing, or that it was even an explanation, in any conventional sense.<\/p>

\u201cDave gets worse today,\u201d he explained. \u201cHe\u2019s always bad, but today he gets worse. Every year he does something appallingly bad, always worse than before. He often leaves traps. He once set me up on a date, and told me to bring a bunch of flowers and wear my finest suit. I had to ask for Rachael when I got there. For some stupid, desperate reason, I went along with it. I turned up at the place and asked for Rachael. She turned out to be a 5 year old girl with a very confused look on her face, until her parents explained that I must be the clown they\u2019d ordered for her birthday party from \u2018Dave\u2019s Ginger Clownatorium and Financial Consultation Services.\u2019\u201d<\/p>

She appeared to fluster. Of course, everyone had heard of Dave, but for most people, it was difficult to believe that the stories were true. \u201cHe really did that? Well at least it can\u2019t get much worse, can it?\u201d Her eyes had a hint of fear about them.<\/p>

\u201cLast year, he put all my clothes in the automated laundry,\u201d Rob began.<\/p>

She smiled thinly, a little confused.<\/p>

\u201cI was wearing them,\u201d Rob added sadly. \u201cInstead of cleaning fluid, he poured in food dye and softener. After 10 minutes, I came out with bright ginger skin under a bright ginger suit with bright ginger soap-suds on my\u2026\u201d He paused, closed his eyes and huffed to himself. He had to say it\u2014he had to say the words Dave had used. \u201c\u2026 My bright ginger hair.\u201d<\/p>

She sniggered.<\/p>

\u201cHe kept saying I was huggably soft and delightfully titian for a month afterwards,\u201d Rob said, cringing. \u201cAnd he didn\u2019t just say it\u2014he posted a Wikiweb advert for me on a dating site as well, looking for fruitsexuals with a leaning towards overripe tangerines. I had 245 dreadful replies. All of them were men, except for two females who said they identified as farmyard equipment. One of them promised to bring her own rake.\u201d<\/p>

Betty choked back a laugh, and somehow managed to keep it down to a snigger. \u201cThat\u2019s not so bad!\u201d<\/p>

Rob glared at her, his eyes flashing angrily. \u201cI thought so too, and that was my first mistake. We met for lunch around 11.30am and I was lulled into a false sense of security. I was eating soup when I found out there was more to come. It was still piping hot when my face crashed down hard into a bowl of farmhouse-tomato. I was arrested by two crewmen under suspicion of mutiny, which is still punishable by death, I might add. Dave had sent the Captain a note telling her I was madly in love with her, and that I was going to prove it by taking her ship by force and returning it to her as a romantic gesture that I hoped would earn me sufficient brownie-points for a meaningless evening of \u2018disciplined ginger fun\u2019.\u201d<\/p>

She sniggered again.<\/p>

\u201cI still can\u2019t work out how he tricked me into eating tomato soup. As they pulled my head out of it to put me into electro-shock-cuffs, while serving up a significant beating from their plasma-sticks, Dave just grinned at me and said, \u2018Did your head go in the orange-coloured soup? It\u2019s almost impossible to tell\u2019.\u201d<\/p>

She covered her smile with her hand, muting the sound of laughter with a fake cough.<\/p>

\u201cWell,\u201d she began. \u2018I\u2019m sure it won\u2019t be so bad this year.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cIt will. It will be worse! It\u2019s always<\/i> worse! There\u2019s a Wikiweb page of condolences for the victims of his April-fool pranks and their families. It goes back years!\u201d<\/p>

\u201cSo I\u2019m guessing Dave had something to do with the letter I received?\u201d she asked. \u201cThe one complaining about being Rob?\u201d<\/p>

He nodded sadly. \u201cI think he just did it to annoy me, but your guess is as good as mine.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cLet\u2019s get you a nice cup of tea,\u201d she suggested, ushering him away from the customers, who really couldn\u2019t care less about any of this.<\/p>

Rob\u2019s eyes widened. \u201cYou can\u2019t eat or drink\u2014not on the Day of Dave! There could be anything in there. Anything!\u201d<\/p>



<\/p>

Bernard slammed open the door to the kitchen. He was wide-eyed with panic, breathing heavily, staring around the room with wild eyes.<\/p>

On reflection, Rob realised that his initial impression was probably unreliable\u2014he\u2019d never seen the head of security actually move before, and it had evidently captured his somewhat limited imagination.<\/p>

Meanwhile, in reality, Bernard pushed open the door, and sluggishly plodded through. He\u2019d slammed it open with such force that he had to kick it a second time just so the opening was wide enough to let him through.<\/p>

That particular description was burned into Rob\u2019s brain because Dave used it so frequently to describe his dating prowess in garishly vivid detail, both to Rob and to future dates. <\/i><\/p>

He breathed heavily, sighing as he made his way inside, too lazy to really bother doing the job properly.<\/p>

That sentence also resonated strongly with Rob because he\u2019d heard so many of Dave\u2019s exes describe their sexual encounters afterwards in just that way, a way Rob felt was probably more accurate.<\/i><\/p>

Bernard was armed with his pointing stick\u2014a futuristic stick that had been scientifically perfected for the delicate and nuanced art of pointing at things to a degree of excellence unrivalled by any stick before it. Its original design was from Germany, where it was scanned with superlatively accurate laser-scanning equipment, constructed from fifty three varieties of wood laminated together in precise quantities, layered such that its straightness defied quantum measurement at a level that wasn\u2019t even considered real beyond a loose description of a hypothetical mathematical model. Commercial production, however, was considerably impeded by the government mandated daily unleashing of an unspecified number of wild shrieker-monkeys into the factories and offices, who attacked the staff, destroyed materials, and ate everybody\u2019s lunch without asking. It was subsequently outsourced to China which had no such regulations, and the end result was better suited to pointing around corners, and then falling apart while standing still.<\/p>

Bernard pointed said stick right at him. \u201cYou\u2019re Rob, aren\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>

Rob looked over to the wall where the tip of the stick had veered off to, and based on the presumption that Bernard was referring to him, his hand reflexively pointed up at himself in response. This was a job it did more than sufficiently without the need for German excellence or the Chinese polar opposite of that.<\/p>

\u201cI was told you were chubby but rat-like, with wild-coloured but boring hair,\u201d said Bernard. \u201cThat seems about right. Now that I look at you, I see why you put in that complaint. I don\u2019t think there\u2019s much we can do about it down in the security office, but as my Dad said before my Mum left him, \u2018There\u2019s nowt so foul as a whippet in heat, now gertcha!\u201d<\/p>

\u201cHello Bernard!\u201d Betty fluttered her eyelids at him and spoke with a soft, girlish voice that bordered on the wrong side of flirtatious and the right side of horrifying.<\/p>

Bernard\u2019s reaction was less kind; he brandished his pointing stick defensively. \u201cBetty,\u201d he said, cautiously backing away. \u201cI thought you worked in that big white room where all the idiots work, the one that always smells of toilets.\u201d<\/p>

She gestured around the kitchen in confusion. \u201cI do!\u201d<\/p>

Bernard nodded to himself and thought for a moment. His brain wasn\u2019t what it once had been, which was a biologically standard and fully intact brain. Most of it had left to follow a very different career path during the war when a piece of exploding bulkhead had provided some of it with a unique opportunity for adventure and travel.<\/p>

Luckily, he lived in a time where technology could cheaply and easily repair such damage with gentle, non-invasive techniques that would safely and easily restore every facet of what a person had once been.<\/p>

Less luckily though, he lived in a time when such things were prohibitively expensive. Even less luckily than that, the loss of more than 40% of your brain-matter meant that the military no longer classified you as a human-being, and cut off all subsequent allowances and benefits, as well as filing legal briefs to claim back all previous payments.<\/p>

But in a final piece of fortune, that was neither particularly worse than good nor particularly better than bad, the merchant fleet had a program to help poor distressed former soldiers who had the legal rights of a tin of canned meat.<\/p>

He had been restored to a functional state with what was laughably referred to as a synaptic-patch. All he needed do was sign a legal waiver, which is something of a legal grey area when much of your legally owned grey matter is in a can of \u2018Soylent\u2019 chicken curry. He had awoken to find a new piece of head in the space where a gaping hole had once been, and a freshly repaired brain inside it, or the next best thing you could describe half a bag of computer-active sand.<\/p>

The downside to all this was that 42% of his brain was now the property of the merchant fleet, who also owned everything below Betty\u2019s waist and above her knees after she signed up for trials of the not entirely successful \u2018self-delivering tampon\u2019 experiment.<\/p>

Bernard\u2019s mind did tend to wander, since his train of thought was so frequently interrupted by unskippable adverts for technology that can make him write good. It was always the wandering back that caused the problems. If he remembered rightly, he was in a place that smelled like toilets with a woman who looked like she might have crawled out of one.<\/p>

\u201cBetty!\u201d he snapped with some disappointment as his sandy brain registered where it was.<\/p>

She fluttered her eyelids at him. \u201cPerhaps we can go on another date?\u201d<\/p>

Her face had the consistency of a slab of leather dropped onto a thin mixture of porridge and sadness. It smiled, but the smile was a thing that sent a sliver of ice through his soul, 42% of which had been blended with herbs and spices and then vacuum sealed for freshness.<\/p>

\u201cAnother date with you?\u201d Bernard, showing the dating prowess of a ginger person, glanced down to her midsection, remembering in vivid detail that it had been augmented with parts that were about as natural as pouring a bag of sand into his head. Fortunately, he had never used his head on a date, but Betty\u2019s shortcomings were more troublesome to him.<\/p>

She smiled, pulling her thin lips up and away from her yellowing teeth. \u201cWho else?\u201d<\/p>

Bernard thought for a moment. If she was thinking of bringing a friend, that might be much better. \u201cWho else indeed?\u201d<\/p>

She fixed her eyes on his, rolled her hair around her finger, and tried to give the impression that her hips weren\u2019t held on with roofing-bolts. \u201cJust us,\u201d she said seductively with a low, gravelly voice that sounded like the owner enjoyed boiled whiskey, served over rocks for breakfast.<\/p>

Bernard rolled his eyes upwards. Thoughtfully he enquired, \u201cThen who will bring us the little bread-rolls that I like?\u201d<\/p>

She sighed, and shook her head while muttering. \u201cWhat do you want, Bernard?\u201d<\/p>

He frowned. \u2018Bread-rolls\u2019 seemed the obvious answer, but that was the only thing that went through his inadequate mind. Then it slowly came to him. \u201cThe Captain sent me.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cDid she. What does she want this time?\u201d<\/p>

Bernard looked over to the chubby rat-thing with the bizarre hair and jabbed his pointing-stick at it.<\/p>

\u201cPlease don\u2019t look at me like that,\u201d said Rob.<\/p>

\u201cThe Captain got a complaint. She referred you to the ship\u2019s councillor for an immediate appointment to find out if your head is mostly sand too.\u201d<\/p>

Rob sighed\u2014to Bernard, that must have seemed fairly reasonable under the circumstances. \u201cWhat time?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cAs soon as we find him!\u201d Bernard shrugged. \u201cHe got a copy of your complaint too. He locked himself in an escape pod and jettisoned it while we were at superluminal speed. We think there\u2019s a chance<\/i> that he might have survived.\u201d<\/p>

Rob looked worried. \u201cWhy would the man whose job it is to guard our mental health do something as crazy as that?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cHe suspected somebody might ask themselves that very question,\u201d he answered. \u201cSo he had the foresight to leave a note explaining his actions, lest somebody mistakenly assume he\u2019d gone mad. In fact, I have a copy of it right here!<\/p>



<\/p>

\u201cI have not gone mad. Dave is up to something\u2014something big!<\/i> This letter of complaint I received from Rob: alarm bells are ringing! No ginger can write that eloquently, and that can only mean one thing\u2014Dave. It has his handwriting all over it. I know because of the words, and having written a number of letters myself. It\u2019s an ominous foreshadowing of something terrible to come. On my last meeting with him I asked him how he was feeling. He replied that he had no complaints. No \u2018complaints.\u2019 His face was straight, but I could see him grinning wickedly on the inside. Then he told me the story of how last year on April 1<\/i>st<\/i><\/sup>, he had been blamed for an outbreak of alligators clawing their way out of passenger toilets. He claimed it was a misunderstanding caused by the poorly worded instructions that came with his Chinese ant-farm, but my own Chinese ant farm didn\u2019t even come with any instructions, and had only three small alligators.<\/i><\/p>

\u201cI just can\u2019t risk it\u2014I must escape, if there is to be any hope. I have a family to consider, and the only security on this ship of doom is a senile old fool whose brain is constructed of grit<\/i>. Perhaps the icy vacuum of space will finally quieten the wretched sound of these klaxons I\u2019ve been hearing day in, day out, since I received that cursed letter. <\/i><\/p>

\u201cOh, why won\u2019t they stop?<\/i>\u201d<\/p>



<\/p>

Rob grimaced, and said suspiciously, \u201cComplaints<\/i>! So he is <\/i>planning something. He always drops little hints of what\u2019s on his mind, like the one time I came back to the room when he had a date in there, and found all my stuff piled up in the corridor. Some of it was still on fire.\u201d<\/p>

Betty sat down next to Rob. She looked worried, which encouraged Bernard a little since the spotlight was away from him.<\/p>

\u201cI got a complaint email too,\u201d she said softly. \u201cShould I be worried?\u201d<\/p>

Rob looked at her and nodded slowly. \u201cHis tradition is to do it before 12 noon. After then, we\u2019re safe. We only have to make it through to 12. Just a little longer now.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cIt\u2019s no good,\u201d Bernard grumbled. \u201cThat Captain has locked down all the escape pods so we can\u2019t eject them. That Doctor has spoiled it for the rest of us.\u201d<\/p>

Rob frowned. \u201cI wasn\u2019t actually\u2026\u201d<\/p>

\u201cAnd she\u2019s safely tucked herself away,\u201d Bernard grunted to himself. \u201cThere\u2019s no chance we can get her to release the lockouts.\u201d<\/p>

Rob looked at them both, worried about the drastic lengths they might go to, to get away from Dave. It then occurred to him that perhaps he wasn\u2019t doing enough. All this gave him a headache.<\/p>

Bernard rubbed his chin. \u201c12 noon? That\u2019s a problem as well.\u201d<\/p>

They looked at him expectantly.<\/p>

\u201cThat\u2019s when the Archangel\u2019s chat-show is on\u2014it\u2019s my favourite show. They were superheroes back in the old days when I was young. Captain Breaker could walk through metal security doors, Kid Silence could make security alarms turn themselves off, and Miracle Girl was so amazing that men would just stare at her and couldn\u2019t look away. Together they tried to solve crimes, but always fell short of actually managing to. Personally I think they missed their calling, until they started hosting a chat show.\u201d<\/p>

There was silence, and not the good kind when someone is saying something interesting, but the other kind just before a sniper pulls the trigger.<\/p>

\u201cThe Trumpkin was on yesterday, and the Clintron was live from its home planet. They were talking about a new religion. The Clintron rejected all religion, saying it was illogical since Satan is the one true god, but the Trumpkin was very enthusiastic about it. He said that not enough religions come with a free T-shirt.\u201d<\/p>

There was more silence, but sadly no sniper.<\/p>

\u201cI know that religion,\u201d said Rob, rubbing his temples. \u201cFicbricktarianism?\u201d<\/p>

Betty sat up suddenly. \u201cThe belief that the whole universe exists only within the imagination of a sentient brick, and that the brick itself is part of a temporally finite universe that only comes into being when read about in fictional literature? I joined that; I got the T-shirt as well. It\u2019s a quality item\u2014proudly made in China!\u201d<\/p>

Rob felt like crying out in dismay, so he did. \u201cHow can the universe exist in the mind of a brick, and then that brick only exist in the mind of someone reading a story about it in another universe? That\u2019s crazy, that could never happen! What kind of crazy, messed up universe could such ideas even come from?\u201d<\/p>

She put a supportive hand on his shoulder and said softly, \u201cDon\u2019t worry. I\u2019m sure it will all be fine.\u201d<\/p>

Rob felt that meant very little from someone who chose their religion based on what garments were given out free with it.<\/p>

\u201cI think that everyone got the complaint,\u201d continued Bernard. \u201cDoes that mean everyone should be on alert?\u201d<\/p>

Rob glowered at him with a hint of irritation. \u201cYou\u2019re in charge of security\u2014what do you think?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cCalm down, Rob,\u201d said Betty, patting his shoulder.<\/p>

\u201cPerhaps more girls will date you now after reading the complaint, just out of sympathy?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cNo, Bernard!\u201d she said sadly. \u201cThere was a picture.\u201d<\/p>



<\/p>

They cowered in the lounge, the only place of sanctity left that they could think of. They assured themselves that there was safety in numbers. Perhaps it was true; perhaps he had targeted them individually, or perhaps he had planned something for them all together? They couldn\u2019t know for sure, but they hoped nonetheless. Crewman, labourers, and even a few passengers who knew of him had gathered there, huddling together in fear.<\/p>

The clock showed the time as it melted away. There were mere minutes left before noon, and each flash of the clock, as the glowing red numbers counted down, took them all closer to whatever salvation may come, if at all. Whatever was coming though, it was coming soon; whatever Dave had planned was going to happen imminently.<\/p>

The barman broke the uneasy silence. \u201cWhat do you think he\u2019s going to do?\u201d His eyes were fixed on the door as he wiped over a glass, over and over and over again with the bottom of his religious T-shirt.<\/p>

Rob glanced round to see a host of eyes looking in his direction. He was the resident expert, the one with the most intimate knowledge of Dave, his actions, his crimes, and his oddly-functioning, but functioning regardless brain.<\/p>

\u201cI don\u2019t know!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cI think it\u2019s obvious by now that I don\u2019t have any control over him. I actually don\u2019t think he has any control over himself.\u201d<\/p>

There was tutting around the room and pointedly angry stares.<\/p>

On the vid-screen, a game show was in progress. A hideous half-pumpkin, half-Donald Trump clone grinned at the camera. It was ranting about letters from the public, and how there were things out there that were even crazier than whatever he was supposed the hell to be.<\/p>

There was a chuckling sound from the audience, but a warning flashed on the screen that the Clintron was not amused, and was arming local terrorists to have its revenge for his continually pitiful jokes.<\/p>

Pitiful<\/i> was also the mood in the room. It was a sombre place of morbid reflection.<\/p>

Still, despite it all, the clock ticked down towards a moment of calm that they all hoped was coming.<\/p>

Suddenly, and without warning, the doors slid open. Dave strolled in without a care in the world. As he paced over the dishevelled metal floor, the room was plunged into a hushed silence, all eyes turning to watch.<\/p>

Rob waited, perched at their usual corner, him sitting on a slightly crooked barstool as Dave took his place on the one just around the ledge.<\/p>

They would soon come to know what he had planned.<\/p>

\u201cLunchtime!\u201d Dave exclaimed happily. \u201cI woke up in a dustbin on the recycling deck next to Fiona from \u2018Complaints.\u2019 She said it was the first time she\u2019d ever ended a romantic evening in so awful a fashion. I took it as a compliment.\u201d<\/p>

Rob looked around\u2014all eyes were on him with their expectant gazes. \u201cI don\u2019t think it\u2019s a compliment.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI don\u2019t get many, so admittedly it\u2019s difficult to judge,\u201d Dave told him. \u201cIt turns out that in \u2018Complaints\u2019 they actually get paid to listen to other people moaning, if you can imagine anything so awful? I thought they were the ones that did the complaining. In any case, she\u2019d heard of me many times and came to find out if the stories were true. She agreed to a date and said to just be myself. She regretted saying that when she let me order dinner for her, and she got a bottle of wine with a straw in it, a box of slightly-used condoms, and a ticket for a ride home that wasn\u2019t valid till the morning\u2026\u201d<\/p>

\u201cDave\u2026\u201d Rob stopped him, feeling that someone had to.<\/p>

Dave looked over, a slight flutter to his lips, a tiny little smile. \u201cShe laughed. I think she thought I was joking. That happens a lot!\u201d<\/p>

\u201cDave, you\u2019re killing us,\u201d Rob pleaded. \u201cWhat did you do?\u201d His eyes traced up to the clock.<\/p>

\u201cLast night?\u201d He smiled wider. \u201cWell, she\u2019s got a whole new list of complaints, only this time they\u2019re medical, and she won\u2019t be discussing them with her mother.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI don\u2019t mean with the girl!\u201d Rob grumbled at him. \u201cAnyone stupid enough to sleep with you gets no sympathy from me.\u201d<\/p>

Dave began to nod in agreement. \u201cThat is also my policy.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI mean what did you do to us<\/i>?\u201d Rob gestured with a nod around the room. Faces were turned to them, every ear was listening.<\/p>

Dave looked around. He saw a face he recognised. \u201cI covered her in cream and licked it off\u2026 It turns out that whipped cream and shaving cream are two very different things. Nobody mentions that when they\u2019re selling the idea to you.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cDave\u2026\u201d Rob was almost begging now, not least because he had become the acting spokesman of the group. \u201cWhat prank did you pull?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cPrank?\u201d<\/p>

The clock ticked on.<\/p>

\u201cPrank!\u201d Rob pleaded.<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019ve been thinking about this Ficbricktarianism,\u201d he told him. \u201cI reckon there\u2019s something to it, you know.\u201d<\/p>

Rob looked bewildered, which was precisely what he was. \u201cYou came up with that. You only did it to show how stupid people were. You started a fake religion based on the dumbest pretext you could conceive of just to see what would happen.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYeah, but I reckon there might be something to it. I mean, maybe when Ian Christian came up with Christianity, he might have rubbed his chin and thought, Yeah, there might just be something to this! Maybe some guy really did get nailed to something because we did something bad, and not because he did? I mean, maybe in Ficbricktarianism, you<\/i> could be nailed to a tree? I thought about this and couldn\u2019t find a single objection. What about that other one where they cut off the end of their penis and broke banking laws? Wasn\u2019t there a peaceful one that attacked everybody?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWhat?\u201d Rob said aghast.<\/p>

Dave rolled his eyes. \u201cI should have known you\u2019d<\/i> find something negative to moan about in my completely innocent comments! You just hate religion, that\u2019s your problem.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWhat?\u201d Rob said again, even aghaster. \u201cShould I not<\/i> complain that you started your own religion, that you want to nail me to a tree, or that you\u2019re sitting there making blasphemous remarks over the lunchtime menu?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYou can\u2019t really complain now,\u201d Dave explained, irritatingly calmly. \u201cFiona won\u2019t be working today, and frankly, when she gets back from the clinic, she\u2019s going to have her own problems to worry about. She\u2019s not going to want to hear about yours.\u201d<\/p>

There was a rumble around the room, and Rob felt the only adjective that might suitably fit was, \u2018murderous.\u2019<\/p>

\u201cDave, what did you do?\u201d he insisted.<\/p>

\u201cWhat the hell are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cIt\u2019s April 1st<\/sup>. We all know you played some horrible prank. What is it, Dave?\u201d<\/p>

Dave looked around and grinned. \u201cOh, that!\u201d he said, irritatingly calmly.<\/p>

Rob pleaded one last time as the clock ticked so horribly close to noon. \u201cDave, please. I know you did something awful.\u201d<\/p>

Dave nodded very slowly. \u201cMaybe I did. Maybe I did something, just a little something that would get everyone all at once?\u201d<\/p>

There was an audible gasp and a ripple of hushed conversation.<\/p>

Tick, tick, tick.<\/p>

\u201cRob\u2026\u201d Dave grinned at him. \u201cRob, shall I tell you?\u201d<\/p>

Rob didn\u2019t want to know. His mind was reeling, he felt like running away, screaming for his mummy, although that wouldn\u2019t have been very productive since she\u2019d read her copy of the complaint, rolled her eyes and sent back a reply that read, \u2018Not known at this address\u2019.<\/p>

Still, he found himself nodding. His eyes flicked up\u2014there were less than thirty seconds left, and Dave was still grinning at him.<\/p>

\u201cRob,\u201d Dave began. \u201cI tried something different this year. I did something that affects everyone, on both sides of the universe, in the universe where people are reading about the imagination of a sentient brick, if such things are true. It will reach every corner of every world, every member of the crew and every person through history whose lives might cross mine at this moment. I did the one thing that nobody expected me to do.\u201d<\/p>

<\/a> Rob could feel his heart thumping. He leant forward and the whole room joined him. They were as one now, fearfully waiting for it, dreading the awful revelation.<\/p>

Tick, tick, tick. Mere seconds now remained.<\/p>

\u201cRob,\u201d Dave said to him. \u201cThis time, what I did was\u2026\u201d<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Many thanks for giving us this chance. We hope you enjoyed the free story and are encouraged to read more. If you choose to buy a book from us you\u2019re supporting new independent authors and helping us to build this site and create more new content.<\/strong><\/p>

If you liked what you saw then please also consider reading our free books, other short stories and articles. Help support us to help support the future of independent fiction.<\/strong><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

April. Fool A.P. Atkinson Our short stories typically revolve around existing characters, such as Rob and Dave and\u2026 well\u2026 pretty much just Rob and Dave. Rob and Dave are extremely fun characters to write since there are literally no limits to what you can do. They work as a waiter and a towel-delivery person on […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"no-sidebar","site-content-layout":"page-builder","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"disabled","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"disabled","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"yasr_overall_rating":0,"yasr_post_is_review":"","yasr_auto_insert_disabled":"","yasr_review_type":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1360","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nApril. Fool. - Edgeverse<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/edgeverse.org\/?page_id=1360\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_GB\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"April. Fool. - Edgeverse\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"April. Fool A.P. Atkinson Our short stories typically revolve around existing characters, such as Rob and Dave and\u2026 well\u2026 pretty much just Rob and Dave. Rob and Dave are extremely fun characters to write since there are literally no limits to what you can do. 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