They tried to beat the crap out of David Oblivion because they suspected he was an illegal alien. The attack was ordered by Mrs. Homily and carried out by her son. David was too close to the truth and that was the real reason for the attack. He knew the Homilys were working for the mainframe known as Zeitgeist — the computer was constructing doppelgangers to take control of the world. David’s attackers didn’t know he was a real alien (not of this world). If they had known, the onslaught would have been far more deadly.
It began in the only bug-proof room in David’s domicile, the kitchen. Walls were heavily fused with silver flypaper, the best possible defense. Princess Aurora, leader of the resistance, sat opposite David in an accommodation pod. She appeared to glow within her cloak of conductivity as she softly spoke, “David . . . the situation is dire. I’ve lost more recruits in the last month than in the previous five years. Men are dying. Brains have been severed and wiped clean. I need your help.” Her violet eyes invited more than just a suggested donation.
“I’ll do anything,” David responded. He was a loyal devotee. To initiate a more compatible arrangement, they had sex. Since David was an alien and Aurora was a hologram they used surrogates. It was great sex and Aurora continued to divulge salient information, “I’ve had more trouble lately meeting the right men. We are at war with a powerful enemy. I need your help to get the codes which can insure the freedom of the human race.”
“Do you have the coordinates?”
“The information is at the Mindshaft, a digital-dump where you will meet an electronic-circuit disguised as a cowboy known as Severan Seven. Be careful. Don’t let any loner overhear your conversation, for his sake as well as ours. I advise you to blend in. The Mindshaft is a Gatsby Club.” Aurora blinked and disappeared from the accommodation pod. David realized how much he loved her. She was always an exhilarating experience. If they were more compatible they would make perfect partners, but duty always came before personal happiness.
David dressed in a silver Gadfly-Suit and took a Strobe-light down to the Mindshaft. The place was in the electronic-hub-district where corporeal intelligence was digitized and projected as TV images. It was difficult to decipher enemies from friends. Information-whores latched themselves to unsuspecting bystanders like succubi. The Mindshaft was the projection of a saloon from the twentieth century, authentically wrapped in wooden planks with real glass windowpanes. It was easy to recognize Severan Seven — he was the only cowboy in the bar with the flashing aura of a flat-screen TV. David flowed across the room like an electric eel and sat on the stool next to Severan. The cowboy warbled in Gothic-Fortran, a new retro-language. David easily latched onto the lingo and warbled back. Communication parameters were established and everything was smoothly twittering when a loner sat on the stool next to David. The alien quickly sussed him out. The intruder was an innocent, totally out of his league and not aware of the circumstances or danger he was getting into. David was forced to resort to a diversionary tactic to safeguard the information he was receiving and head off any collateral damage. The low life next to him was sitting in a daze, hardly awake. He looked lost, yet vaguely familiar. David grabbed a drink off the bar and spilled it in the stranger’s lap. It worked. The grubby fellow acted like he received a jolt of electricity. David replied, “Scuse me — you were in my way!” The guy just walked away without a word.
At last, David could turn his full attention to his twittering friend. Severan Seven was revealing a catechism of loaded information. David wondered why. Was he a stool pigeon? Was he a double agent or a Trojan horse? The codes could be fake, an elaborate trap. After the info was dumped, Severan Seven was replaced with a test pattern. Sexual contact, the usual way to seal a deal, was not even suggested. David’s suspicions were now fully realized.
When he left the Mindshaft the Homily zombie attacked him. David was trying to contact Aurora with the codes she so desperately needed. She had the key to test the codes authenticity and veracity. It was very possible these codes could end the war and save the planet. He was looking for a safe zone to transmit his data when he was attacked. The zombie came with several militant clones, mindless thugs motivated by the compulsion to maim and kill. David was at a disadvantage because he carried no weapons (he didn’t want to spook his contact at the Mindshaft). Still, he had his alien wits about him.
His foes surrounded him on a white plain of digital detritus. They jabbed the alien with pointed sticks, all the while laughing like crazed demons. The Homily zombie lusted after David’s brain like a creature from a low budget, horror sim. As an extraterrestrial, David had one skill that might save his life — he could become oblivious by shifting reality. It was a trick he learned as a young man when he was incarcerated in a mental hospital. The trick meant he would lose the data and all the codes. He could save his life and lose the world. It was decision time. The enemy stopped playing with sticks and started lashing out with big knives. One clone was lighting matches and another was gathering wood. They wanted to build a bonfire and use David as fuel. A choice was made for David by the safety-valve in his inner-ear which took control. The information were dumped, the codes lost, and David was catapulted into oblivion.