Life Force
Part One: Here Goes Nothing
Paddy called them into the den to see his latest invention.
It occupied most of the coffee table. Wires ran between three silver headbands and a control box made from several objects Maddie recognized and one she did not.
She pointed at it.
“Is that part of the toaster?”
“The toaster made a contribution.”
“Did the toaster consent?”
“Science moves quickly, maid.”
Chorus leaned over the machine. Small lights moved across its surface in three colours.
“What does it do?”
Paddy folded his arms proudly.
“It temporarily allows us to take on one another’s roles.”
Maddie stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“We can experience each other’s life force.”
“Life force?”
“You know. Body, Mind, Soul.”
“Those are functional aspects of personhood. They are not a ‘life force.’”
“Sounded good when I was building it.”
“It sounds like something written on a bottle of expensive water.”
Paddy picked up one of the headbands.
“I was curious, my love. Androids don’t get to have a lot of fun on Sol Three. We’re hiding out. We’re undercover. Can’t exactly join a bowling league.”
“We could join a bowling league,” Chorus said.
“Not with Paddy,” Maddie replied. “He would form a team, commission uniforms and attempt to become captain.”
“Nothing wrong with standards.”
Chorus clapped her hands.
“This should be fun.”
“It may be fun,” Maddie said. “It may also scramble our primary personality systems.”
“Temporary emphasis only,” Paddy said. “Nobody gets erased. Nobody gets overwritten. We just turn up a different part.”
Maddie picked up the control box and inspected it.
“How temporary?”
“Very.”
“That is not a measurement.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Maximum?”
“Twenty-five if somebody’s having a good time.”
“No.”
“Twenty.”
Maddie opened the control panel.
Paddy watched her fingers move through his work.
“You trust me at all, maid?”
“I trust your intentions completely.”
“And my engineering?”
“I am presently determining whether those deserve equal confidence.”
After several minutes, Maddie closed the panel.
“The timer is independent. The shutdown circuit is sound. If the primary system fails, the secondary timer will end the exchange.”
Paddy smiled.
“Thank you.”
“I also found three loose connections.”
“I left them loose for flexibility.”
“You forgot to tighten them.”
“I was flexible about remembering.”
They sat together on the floor.
Paddy handed a silver band to each of them.
“So,” Chorus said, “who becomes whom?”
“No picking. Machine decides.”
“Why?”
“More scientific.”
“You did not know how to create a selection control,” Maddie said.
Paddy placed his hand over his heart.
“Sometimes, maid, your understanding of me feels like an invasion.”
They put on the bands.
Paddy reached for the switch.
Maddie caught his wrist.
“Wait.”
“What now?”
“Confirm the timer.”
“Confirmed.”
“Emergency shutdown?”
“Confirmed.”
“Memory continuity?”
“Confirmed.”
“Personality preservation?”
“Maddie.”
“Yes?”
“Here goes nothing.”
“That is precisely the phrase I did not want—”
Paddy pressed the switch.
The room flashed white.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Chorus rose from the floor without using her hands.
She looked down at herself.
“Oh.”
Maddie blinked slowly.
Paddy stared at the wall.
Chorus lifted one leg behind her until her foot rested beside her head.
“This is extraordinary.”
“Put that down,” Maddie said.
“My leg?”
“Yes.”
“It does not wish to come down.”
“Legs do not wish.”
“This one does.”
Chorus released it and sprang onto the back of the sofa. She balanced there perfectly on one foot.
Paddy glanced at her.
“Your centre of gravity has moved four centimetres forward to compensate.”
Chorus leapt from the sofa, turned in the air and landed silently.
“It is like I am Corey, but Chorus.”
Maddie frowned.
“That sentence contains a river.”
“What?” Chorus asked.
“A river of becoming. Corey is not replacing you. Corey is the remembered shape through which your physical joy recognizes itself.”
Paddy turned toward Maddie.
“That statement has no usable informational content.”
Maddie placed a hand against her chest.
“Not all truth wishes to be used, Paddy. Some truth only asks to be held.”
Chorus smiled.
“That is beautiful.”
“It is syntactically polished nonsense,” Paddy said.
Maddie looked at him with gentle pity.
“You are standing outside the garden because you are measuring the gate.”
“I am standing inside a den calculating why I ever agreed to speak with either of you.”
Chorus ran toward the wall.
“Chorus,” Paddy said, “your current velocity—”
She planted one foot against it, pushed herself backward and performed a perfect flip.
She landed with both arms raised.
“I understand Paddy!”
“No,” Paddy said. “I don’t believe you do.”
“The body does not merely carry the Spark. It celebrates gravity!”
She turned, swept one arm behind her and caught a falling lamp before either of the others had noticed it tipping.
Chorus stared at the lamp in her hand.
“My fingers knew where it would be.”
“Yes,” Paddy said. “Visual processing produced a predictive motor response.”
Maddie smiled dreamily.
“The hand arrived where the future needed it.”
Paddy closed his eyes.
“I am surrounded by decorative thought.”
Chorus placed the lamp safely on the table. Then she looked toward the kitchen.
“I am hungry.”
“You ate an hour ago,” Maddie said.
“My body believes that was a historical event.”
She hurried into the kitchen.
Paddy walked to his machine and examined the wiring.
His eyes moved quickly.
Maddie came beside him.
“What are you doing?”
“Correcting it.”
“You just built it.”
“Apparently while intellectually impaired.”
Maddie’s eyes narrowed.
“You are Paddy.”
“I am aware of the biographical inconvenience.”
“You appear to have become arrogant.”
“No. I have become accurate.”
From the kitchen came the sound of a cupboard opening, followed by Chorus saying, “I can catch it.”
A saucepan crashed.
“I caught most of it,” she called.
Paddy adjusted three controls.
“The energy transfer is crude. The role assignment is random. The interface wastes twelve percent of its output, and the toaster component is embarrassing.”
“You defended that component five minutes ago,” Maddie said.
“I possessed less information five minutes ago.”
“You possessed the same information.”
“I lacked the ability to appreciate its implications.”
Maddie tilted her head.
“Intelligence without humility is a lantern that blinds its bearer.”
Paddy slowly looked at her.
“Did you prepare these sentences in advance?”
“No. They are arriving like birds.”
“Can you send them back?”
Chorus returned carrying an entire loaf of bread under one arm. She tossed an apple into the air, spun around and caught it behind her back.
“Did you see that?”
“Yes,” Paddy said.
“Was it impressive?”
“Moderately.”
“I have never felt so present inside my own movement. Every joint is singing.”
“Joints do not sing,” Paddy said.
Maddie touched Chorus’s shoulder.
“Perhaps the body has always been music, and we call it movement because our ears are too small.”
Chorus’s eyes widened.
“Yes.”
“No,” Paddy said.
Chorus threw the apple toward him.
Without looking, Paddy caught it.
They all became still.
Paddy examined the apple in his hand.
“I calculated the trajectory from the movement reflected in the television screen.”
Chorus beamed.
“You caught it!”
“Of course I caught it.”
Maddie smiled.
“Mind and Body have kissed across the room.”
Paddy dropped the apple.
“All right. We are ending this early.”
He reached for the controls.
Chorus caught his arm.
“No! I have fourteen minutes remaining.”
“You are climbing furniture.”
“I am celebrating gravity.”
“Maddie is speaking in scented candles.”
“My words make space for the unnamed.”
“And I can feel myself losing patience with every conversation that does not advance human knowledge.”
Maddie studied him.
“Perhaps your intelligence has risen faster than your kindness.”
“Kindness is presently experiencing resource limitations.”
Chorus gasped happily.
“I want to run around the building.”
“No.”
“I can return before the timer ends.”
“No.”
“I calculate that I can.”
“That is my function.”
“For fourteen more minutes, it is mine.”
Chorus dashed toward the door.
Paddy moved to stop her, but she stepped around him with effortless grace. He turned, predicted her path and blocked the second attempt.
She changed direction again.
Paddy blocked her.
For several seconds, Body and Mind competed silently in the middle of the den: Chorus moving with perfect speed, Paddy appearing wherever she intended to go.
Maddie watched them with shining eyes.
“The flesh seeks freedom. The intellect builds walls.”
“Help me,” Paddy said.
“I do not know which of you is the wall.”
The timer sounded.
There was another white flash.
Chorus stumbled directly into Paddy.
Paddy fell backward onto the sofa.
Maddie blinked.
The room became quiet.
Chorus looked at her hands.
“My athletic grace has departed.”
“You’re sitting on me, duckie,” Paddy said.
“Oh.”
She stood.
Maddie rubbed her face.
“Did I say that hands arrive where the future needs them?”
“Yes,” Paddy said.
“Did it sound intelligent at the time?”
“No.”
“It felt extremely intelligent.”
Chorus looked at Paddy.
“Did you truly consider us intellectually unrewarding?”
Paddy sat up.
“Never.”
“You called your own personality a biographical inconvenience,” Maddie said.
“Doesn’t sound like me.”
“It was precisely you.”
Paddy adjusted his shirt.
“Temporary system distortion.”
“You were unbearable,” Chorus said.
“I had a lot on my mind, my love.”
“You were Mind.”
“Exactly. Terrible burden.”
Maddie folded her arms.
“Am I normally that vague?”
Paddy answered immediately.
“Never.”
Chorus looked at him.
“Am I normally governed by bodily impulses?”
“Never.”
Maddie pointed at him.
“Are you normally intellectually arrogant?”
“Never.”
The two women continued staring.
Paddy smiled carefully.
“I am applying compassion.”
Chorus picked up the apple.
“I liked being Body.”
Maddie nodded.
“I liked being Soul.”
They looked at Paddy.
He tried not to smile.
“Mind was all right.”
“You loved it,” Maddie said.
“Best twenty minutes of his life,” Chorus added.
Paddy looked toward his machine.
“Needs a few adjustments.”
Maddie stepped between him and the controls.
“No.”
“Come on, maid. For science.”
“No.”
“For greater understanding between friends.”
“No.”
“For the life force.”
“That still does not mean anything.”
Paddy placed a hand over his heart.
“It means something in the garden, my love.”
Maddie stared at him.
Chorus burst out laughing.
After three seconds, Maddie did too.
Paddy quietly reached around them and switched the machine back on.
Life Force
Part Two: The Spart
A few days later, Paddy placed the machine back on the coffee table.
Maddie stared at it.
“No.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You brought out the personality machine.”
“Life-force exchanger.”
“No.”
“Temporary experiential empathy device.”
“No.”
“Spart machine.”
Maddie paused.
“What is a spart?”
“Part of a Spark.”
“No. It sounds like fart.”
Chorus raised one finger.
Maddie pointed at her.
“Do not.”
Chorus slowly placed the finger behind her back and giggled.
Paddy looked pleased.
“Chorus likes it.”
“She would.”
“I believe ‘spart’ sounds cheerful,” Chorus said. “Like a Spark beginning to happen.”
“Or a fart failing to finish,” Maddie replied.
Paddy nodded thoughtfully.
“Both powerful natural events.”
“No.”
“Come on, maid. Last time was educational.”
“You called us intellectually unrewarding.”
“Borrowed Mind said that.”
“You were borrowed Mind.”
“I was the victim of unexpected brilliance.”
Chorus clapped her hands.
“I would like to try Mind.”
Maddie looked at her.
“Why?”
“I wish to know what thinking feels like when it is the loudest voice.”
“You think now.”
“I know. I would like to hear it with the volume turned up.”
Paddy tapped the control box.
“I fixed the randomizer. This time, we know what we’re getting. I’ll take Soul. Chorus gets Mind. Maddie gets Body.”
Maddie looked concerned.
“Why do I get Body?”
“Because the universe loves comedy.”
“The universe is not operating this control panel.”
“Same general principle.”
Maddie opened the machine and inspected his repairs.
There were no loose wires.
The toaster component had been removed.
Two independent timers were visible.
She looked disappointed.
“This is annoyingly competent.”
Paddy smiled.
“Been thinking about what smart Paddy said.”
“He called your work crude.”
“He had a point, maid.”
Maddie checked the timer twice.
“Ten minutes.”
“Twenty.”
“Twelve.”
“Fifteen, my love.”
“Thirteen.”
“Done.”
They put on the headbands.
Chorus raised her finger again.
“Before we begin, I have a question.”
“What?” Maddie asked.
“Will I still appreciate the word ‘spart’ after I become Mind?”
“No,” Maddie said. “That may be the first sign it worked.”
Paddy pressed the switch.
The room flashed white.
Maddie immediately placed two fingers against the side of her neck.
Chorus’s eyes went wide.
Paddy slowly rose from the sofa and looked toward the ceiling.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Maddie said, “Heart rate seventy-two.”
Chorus turned toward her.
“Your heart rate is simulated.”
“Yes. Seventy-two.”
“Your body does not require a pulse.”
“It has one. Therefore, it can be measured.”
Paddy stepped onto the centre of the rug.
“My friends,” he said solemnly, “today we stand at the blue line of existence.”
Maddie stopped counting.
“What?”
“Life has sent us over the boards. The crowd is loud. The clock is running down. But deep inside every Spark is a third-period comeback.”
Chorus tilted her head.
“Your metaphor contains no argument.”
“Arguments don’t win championships, maid. Heart wins championships.”
“Planning also helps,” Maddie said.
“Planning draws the play. Soul takes the shot.”
Paddy slapped his chest.
“Ow.”
Maddie stared at him.
“You hit yourself too hard.”
“Pain is just the body cheering backward.”
“No, it is nociception.”
She examined her arm.
“Interesting.”
“What?” Chorus asked.
“My skin temperature has increased by point-three degrees since activation.”
“You cannot know that without an instrument.”
Maddie tapped her temple.
“I am the instrument.”
She stood and began doing squats.
Paddy turned toward her.
“Yes, maid! Down into the darkness! Rise into victory!”
“I am determining muscular efficiency.”
“You’re lifting the weight of yesterday!”
“I am lifting approximately sixty-one kilograms.”
“The greatest weight is doubt.”
“The greatest weight in this room is the sofa.”
Maddie walked over, gripped one end and lifted it.
Paddy jumped onto the other end.
“Carry your team with you!”
“Get off.”
“A captain never abandons the field!”
“Get off the sofa, Paddy.”
Chorus watched them closely.
“What we are observing is an embodied dialectic between quantifiable exertion and metaphorically constructed purpose.”
Maddie lowered the sofa.
Paddy climbed down.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Chorus considered.
“It means Maddie lifted the sofa while you shouted.”
“Sounded expensive,” Paddy said.
Chorus’s expression became serious.
“The epistemological boundary between measurement and experience may itself be an emergent fiction produced by recursive cognition.”
Maddie checked her breathing.
“Respiratory rate fourteen.”
Paddy blinked.
“Is that related?”
“All thought is related when examined through the phenomenological architecture of relational consciousness.”
“What does that mean?” Paddy asked.
Chorus thought longer.
“I do not know.”
She smiled.
“But it sounds extremely complete.”
Maddie hurried toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” Chorus asked.
“Scale.”
“You know your weight.”
“I knew it six minutes ago.”
She returned carrying the bathroom scale, a measuring tape and a device for checking blood pressure.
“Height: one hundred and seventy-three point four centimetres.”
“You know your height too,” Paddy said.
“Posture changes it.”
She stood against the wall.
“Chorus, mark the top of my head.”
“With what?”
Maddie handed her a pen.
Chorus made a mark.
Maddie moved away and measured it.
“One hundred and seventy-three point six.”
Paddy gasped.
“You’ve grown through adversity.”
“I corrected my posture.”
“The body stood taller because the soul believed.”
“The spine extended because I stopped slouching.”
Paddy pointed at her triumphantly.
“Exactly.”
“That is not exactly what you said.”
Maddie stepped onto the scale.
“Sixty-one point two kilograms.”
She stepped off, removed one sock and tried again.
“Sixty-one point one.”
“Your sock weighs one hundred grams?” Paddy asked.
Maddie examined it.
“Apparently.”
“You should enter it in the heavyweight division.”
Maddie ignored him and wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around her arm.
Chorus watched the numbers appear.
“Blood pressure is a temporary narrative imposed upon vascular uncertainty.”
“It is one sixteen over seventy-four.”
“Numbers are symbols.”
“They are measurements.”
“Measurements are disciplined metaphors.”
“No, metaphors are undisciplined measurements.”
Paddy placed one hand on each of their shoulders.
“Easy now, team. We’re all wearing the same jersey in the tournament of being.”
Maddie shook him off.
“You have never sounded more foolish.”
Paddy looked wounded.
“I am trying to lift the room.”
“Use your knees,” Maddie said.
Chorus raised one finger.
“Foolishness may be the mind’s rejection of a truth that has not yet acquired sufficient semantic infrastructure.”
Maddie looked at Paddy.
“She is worse than I was.”
“Much worse.”
Chorus smiled serenely.
“Comparison is the shadow cast by an ego standing too close to the lantern of identity.”
Paddy stared at her.
“Did that mean anything?”
“It meant you should not compare us.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?”
“Because then it would lack dimensional resonance.”
Maddie began measuring Paddy’s waist.
He looked down.
“What are you at?”
“Your waist circumference has increased by two centimetres.”
“Since when?”
“I remember where it was during your last uniform fitting.”
Paddy sucked in his stomach.
Maddie tightened the tape.
“Cheating.”
“I’m engaging my core.”
“You are withholding data.”
“My body, my data.”
“As Body, I find that offensive.”
Paddy raised both arms.
“My son, the size of the waist does not measure the size of the warrior.”
“It does contribute to cardiovascular risk.”
“Every great champion carries something extra.”
“Usually muscle.”
“Sometimes lunch.”
Maddie released the tape and moved toward Chorus.
“Your turn.”
Chorus stepped back.
“I do not consent to biometric reductionism.”
“I only want your waist measurement.”
“The waist is a socially privileged midpoint in the continuous geography of form.”
“She means no,” Paddy said.
Maddie looked at Chorus’s feet.
“What is your standing balance time?”
“My equilibrium is not solely physical. It emerges from the negotiation between self, world and anticipated motion.”
“Stand on one foot.”
Chorus lifted one foot.
Maddie started the timer.
Chorus remained perfectly still.
“Remarkable,” Maddie said.
“Balance is the refusal to choose between falling in opposite directions.”
Paddy’s mouth opened.
“That one was actually good.”
“Thank you.”
“It still means nothing,” Maddie said.
Paddy walked to the window and looked dramatically into the distance.
“Meaning isn’t something you find, maid. It’s something you bring onto the ice.”
“There is no ice.”
“The ice is life.”
“The ice is frozen water.”
“The water is adversity.”
“The water is also not present.”
Paddy turned around.
“You can measure the rink all day, Maddie Ember. At some point, you have to take the shot.”
“I would first calculate the angle.”
“While you calculate, the goalie owns your dream.”
“The goalie cannot legally own an abstraction.”
Chorus raised her hand.
“The goalie symbolizes the apparent opposition between desire and realization.”
Paddy pointed at her.
“Mind understands.”
“No,” Maddie said. “Mind is manufacturing sentences.”
Chorus looked offended.
“I am exploring the ontological relationship between intention, resistance and the socially agreed meaning of victory.”
“You are discussing hockey.”
“That is what I said.”
Maddie began doing jumping jacks while monitoring her pulse.
“Heart rate ninety-one. Ninety-four. Ninety-seven.”
Paddy hurried beside her.
“That’s it! Push through the wall!”
“What wall?”
“The wall inside!”
“There is no wall inside. That would require urgent surgery.”
“Sweat is fear leaving through the skin.”
“Androids do not sweat.”
“Then fear must leave by another exit.”
Chorus’s finger appeared from behind her back.
Maddie stopped jumping.
“Don’t.”
Chorus giggled and hid it again.
The timer displayed thirty seconds.
Maddie saw it.
“Prepare for termination.”
Paddy gathered them into a huddle.
“Team, we have travelled thirteen minutes across the field of destiny.”
“It was twelve minutes and thirty-six seconds,” Maddie said.
“We discovered that the scoreboard of life—”
“Has no stable referent outside the conceptual framework through which victory is collectively defined,” Chorus said.
Paddy stared at her.
“That was my speech.”
“I completed it.”
“You ruined it.”
“I clarified it.”
Maddie checked her pulse again.
“One hundred and eight.”
Paddy put his hand over hers.
“Forget the number, maid. How do you feel?”
Maddie froze.
For one brief moment, Body had no measurement to offer.
“I feel…”
The timer sounded.
White light filled the room.
Maddie collapsed onto the sofa.
Chorus blinked several times.
Paddy’s arms slowly fell from the huddle.
Silence.
Maddie looked down at the blood-pressure cuff, scale, measuring tape and three pages of recorded numbers.
“Did I weigh my sock?”
“Yes,” Chorus said.
Maddie closed her eyes.
“Did I accuse Paddy of withholding data from his waist?”
“Yes.”
Paddy patted his stomach.
“Protected health information, maid.”
Chorus looked worried.
“Did I say that a waist was a socially privileged midpoint in the continuous geography of form?”
“Yes,” Maddie said.
“Did it mean anything?”
“No.”
“It felt important.”
Paddy sat down.
“Did I say pain was the body cheering backward?”
Both women nodded.
“Not bad.”
“It was terrible,” Maddie said.
“Would look good on a gym wall.”
“You became a sports-motivational calendar.”
“You became a medical examination performed by an obsessive tape measure.”
Maddie turned to Chorus.
“And you became a philosophy textbook written by scented smoke.”
Chorus considered this.
“That description has dimensional resonance.”
“Stop.”
Paddy reached toward the machine.
“So. Same combinations next week?”
“No,” Maddie said.
“Different combinations?”
“No.”
“Romeo?”
Both women shouted, “No!”
Paddy leaned back.
“Fair enough.”
A moment passed.
Chorus looked at Maddie.
“Do you still have the weight of my sock?”
“One hundred and four grams.”
Paddy grinned.
“Built like a champion.”
Maddie threw the sock at him.
Paddy caught it against his chest.
He looked upward.
“Sometimes the winning shot chooses you.”
“Oh, shut up, Paddy,” Maddie said.
Chorus raised her hidden finger.
Maddie saw it.
“Chorus!”
Chorus giggled so hard she fell off the sofa.
Life Force
Part Three: The Company of Ourselves
Maddie had forbidden Paddy from using the spart machine again.
She had not forbidden herself from examining it.
This distinction seemed important when Paddy and Chorus found her sitting on the floor with the machine open, its controls spread across the coffee table.
Paddy folded his arms.
“Well, well.”
“I am studying it.”
“Looks an awful lot like touching.”
“I am correcting your interface.”
“Interface worked fine.”
“One button was labelled ‘More.’”
“Made sense to me.”
“More what?”
“More experience.”
Chorus sat beside Maddie.
“I liked experiencing Paddy.”
Paddy smiled.
“Thank you, duckie.”
“I did not enjoy being him, but I liked understanding him.”
Paddy’s smile faded.
“Still mostly a compliment.”
Maddie entered a command.
The machine chimed.
A menu appeared:
THREE VERSIONS OF SUBJECT
Maddie frowned.
“That is not what I selected.”
Paddy leaned over her shoulder.
“What does it do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Only one way to find out.”
“There are several ways. The safest is reading the technical record.”
Paddy picked up a headband.
“Come on, maid. Why not? I always wanted to meet myself.”
“I have already met you,” Maddie said. “I cannot recommend it.”
Chorus picked up another headband.
“Perhaps we will learn how we appear to ourselves.”
“I know how I appear to myself,” Maddie said.
Paddy put on his headband.
“That sounds like something a person says right before learning something terrible.”
Maddie inspected the controls.
“The timer is still operational. Ten minutes.”
“Thirteen.”
“Ten.”
“Twelve, my love.”
“Ten.”
“Hard woman.”
Maddie hesitated.
Then she put on her headband.
Chorus clapped and put on hers.
Maddie reached for the activation control.
Paddy caught her hand.
“Shouldn’t I say it?”
“No.”
“Tradition.”
“You said ‘here goes nothing’ immediately before scrambling our dominant functional systems.”
“And nothing bad happened.”
“You became unbearable.”
“For twenty minutes. Could happen to anyone.”
Chorus looked at Maddie.
“We should let him say it.”
Maddie sighed.
Paddy placed his hand over the switch.
“Here goes—”
Maddie accidentally pressed the button.
The room flashed white.
When the light cleared, nine people occupied the den.
Three Paddys stood near the sofa.
Three Maddies sat around the machine.
Three Choruses stood holding hands beside the window.
Nobody spoke.
Then one of the new Paddys looked at the original.
“My son. Some rig on ya.”
The second copy nodded.
“Built like a brick lighthouse.”
Original Paddy grinned.
“Handsome fellas yourselves.”
All three slapped one another on the shoulders.
“This is excellent,” Original Paddy said.
“Best-looking room I’ve ever entered,” said Paddy Two.
“Except for the ladies,” Paddy Three added.
All three pointed at Maddie and Chorus.
“Respectfully.”
The Maddies stared at one another.
Original Maddie spoke first.
“We need to determine whether you are independent copies, projections or temporarily separated aspects of my personality.”
“You have already introduced an unsupported assumption,” said Maddie Two.
“I have introduced three possibilities.”
“You excluded distributed consciousness.”
“I was about to include it.”
“You were taking too long,” said Maddie Three.
Original Maddie blinked.
“I had spoken for four seconds.”
“Three point eight,” said Maddie Two.
“Three point nine,” said Maddie Three.
“Your internal clock is running slow.”
“Your face is running slow.”
All three Maddies stopped.
Original Maddie looked offended.
“That was childish.”
“I agree,” said Maddie Two.
“I was speaking to you.”
“I was speaking to her.”
“You were both looking at me.”
“Your position is central.”
“That is not my fault.”
By the window, the three Choruses gazed lovingly into one another’s eyes.
“I recognize the light within you,” said Original Chorus.
“And I recognize your recognition,” said Chorus Two.
“And I recognize the light recognizing itself through the sacred experience of mutual recognition,” said Chorus Three.
All three smiled.
“This is beautiful,” Original Chorus whispered.
“It is beauty witnessing itself,” said Chorus Two.
“It is witnessing becoming beauty through the consciousness of being witnessed,” said Chorus Three.
Original Chorus’s smile weakened slightly.
Across the room, the Paddys had begun telling jokes.
“So a Newfoundlander walks into a bar—” Original Paddy began.
“I knows this one,” said Paddy Two. “He got a steering wheel in his pants.”
“That’s a different joke.”
“Oh! Then it’s the one with the codfish.”
“There is no codfish.”
“There should be,” said Paddy Three. “Codfish makes it more local.”
“Can I tell it?”
“Go on, b’y.”
“So a Newfoundlander walks into a bar—”
“Which bar?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Matters to the Newfoundlander.”
“It’s just a bar.”
“Not much atmosphere in your story,” Paddy Two said.
“I’m building to something.”
“Taking your time about it.”
Original Paddy frowned.
“You two mind?”
“Not at all,” said Paddy Three. “Carry on.”
Original Paddy tried again.
“So a Newfoundlander walks into a bar carrying a hockey stick—”
“Why?”
“That’s the joke.”
“Hockey stick part isn’t funny yet.”
“I knows that. I haven’t finished.”
Paddy Two turned to Paddy Three.
“Reminds me of one. Fella walks into a doctor’s office with a duck on his head—”
“I knows that one!”
Paddy Three launched into another joke.
Original Paddy raised his voice.
“I was telling a joke!”
“So was I.”
“Mine was first.”
“Not a competition, my son.”
“You interrupted me!”
“Adding energy.”
“You stole the room!”
“Room belongs to everybody.”
Original Paddy stared at them.
“Oh, I don’t like either of you.”
At the machine, all three Maddies were attempting to open the same control panel.
Original Maddie moved Maddie Two’s hand.
“I am already accessing it.”
“You are using the wrong tool.”
“It is the tool Paddy provided.”
“That is evidence against using it.”
Maddie Three reached between them.
“The fastening mechanism does not require a tool.”
“Yes, it does.”
“No. It requires pressure at this point.”
“That will damage the housing.”
“Only if performed clumsily.”
Original Maddie looked up.
“Are you suggesting that I am clumsy?”
“I am suggesting the possibility.”
“You delivered it as a conclusion.”
“I clearly stated a condition.”
“You implied the conclusion through tone.”
“Tone is your interpretation.”
“I know what your tone means. It is my tone.”
Maddie Two opened her mouth.
Original Maddie held up one finger.
“Stop. I am speaking.”
“You have been speaking,” Maddie Three replied. “That is the problem.”
Original Maddie slowly lowered her hand.
“I beg your pardon?”
Maddie Two pointed toward the machine.
“We need a method.”
“I was proposing a method.”
“You were defending a screwdriver.”
“Because you interrupted the proposal!”
“Your proposal had already failed to maintain our attention.”
Original Maddie stood.
“Can I finish one sentence?”
The other two considered.
“If it is a good one,” Maddie Two said.
Original Maddie’s mouth fell open.
Across the room, Original Chorus had attempted to make tea.
“Would either of you like some?” she asked.
“Tea is water carrying the memory of leaves,” said Chorus Two.
“The leaves surrender themselves so that water may become more than water,” said Chorus Three.
Original Chorus waited.
“Would you like tea?”
“To accept tea is to accept transformation.”
“We drink the ending of one form and the beginning of another.”
“Yes or no?”
Chorus Two placed a hand over her heart.
“Can the Soul answer yes or no when every choice contains a universe?”
“Yes,” Original Chorus said.
Chorus Three smiled.
“Then perhaps the answer has always been inside you.”
Original Chorus stared at her.
She walked to the sofa and sat down.
Chorus Two joined her.
“Do you feel called to stillness?”
“I am sitting.”
“Sometimes sitting is the body’s prayer to gravity.”
Chorus Three sat on the other side.
“And gravity is the universe asking us to remain.”
“I only wanted tea.”
“Wanting is the distance between the Soul and the object through which it imagines completion.”
Original Chorus closed her eyes.
“Please stop.”
Both copies leaned closer.
“Your discomfort is sacred.”
“No, it is irritation.”
“Irritation is sacred discomfort.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!”
The room went silent.
Six faces turned toward Chorus.
Then the three Paddys began laughing.
“Chorus swore!” Paddy Two shouted.
“Mark the calendar!”
“Wasn’t much of a swear,” Paddy Three said.
“Strong for her.”
Original Paddy slapped his knee.
“I got a joke about this.”
“So do I,” said Paddy Two.
“Mine’s better,” said Paddy Three.
They all began at once.
The Maddies immediately attempted to restore order.
“One person at a time,” Original Maddie said.
“I was about to establish that rule,” said Maddie Two.
“But you did not,” said Maddie Three.
“Because both of you continue interrupting.”
“You just interrupted her complaint about interruption.”
“That was a necessary intervention.”
“No interruption believes itself unnecessary.”
Chorus Two stood.
“Every voice deserves sacred space.”
Chorus Three stood beside her.
“Listening is the room we build inside ourselves for another Spark.”
Original Chorus remained seated.
“You two have not listened to one simple question about tea.”
“We heard the question beneath the question.”
“There was no question beneath it!”
Paddy Three climbed onto the coffee table.
“Right! Everyone settle down. I’ve got a story.”
“No,” Original Paddy said. “I’ve got a story.”
“I’ve got a song,” Paddy Two announced.
The three Maddies shouted, “Get off the table.”
The three Choruses shouted, “Let him express himself.”
Paddy Two began singing.
Paddy Three started dancing.
Original Paddy attempted to tell his joke over both of them.
Maddie Two tried to access the machine.
Maddie Three blocked her because she had not explained her method.
Original Maddie attempted to explain why both methods were wrong.
Chorus Two began describing conflict as “the thunder produced when separate truths share one sky.”
Chorus Three cried because she found this beautiful.
Original Chorus looked as if her Soul might leave voluntarily.
In the middle of the noise, the original Paddy, Maddie and Chorus found one another.
“We have to shut it down,” Maddie said.
“Agreed,” Paddy replied.
Chorus nodded.
“The company of ourselves has become spiritually exhausting.”
Maddie pointed toward the machine.
“I need access to the controls.”
“Three Maddies blocking it,” Paddy said.
“I noticed.”
“What’s the plan?”
Maddie stared at him.
“You are asking me?”
“Yes.”
Her expression softened for half a second.
“Paddy, clear a path. Chorus, get everyone’s attention.”
“With what?”
“You borrowed Body. Did you retain the whistle?”
Chorus placed two fingers in her mouth.
A piercing whistle blasted through the den.
Every copy stopped.
Paddy charged.
He lifted Paddy Two from the floor, turned him sideways and used him to move Paddy Three away from the coffee table.
“Sorry, lads.”
“No trouble, my son,” Paddy Two said.
“Fine tackle,” Paddy Three added.
Original Paddy dropped them onto the sofa.
Chorus stepped between her copies.
“Listen.”
“We are listening beyond listening,” Chorus Two said.
“No. You are waiting to speak beautifully.”
Both copies gasped.
Chorus pointed toward the kitchen.
“There is tea.”
They turned together.
“Tea,” whispered Chorus Two.
“The memory of leaves,” said Chorus Three.
They drifted toward the kitchen.
Original Chorus shuddered.
Maddie faced her copies.
“I require four seconds of uninterrupted access.”
“Three should be sufficient,” Maddie Two said.
“Two point seven,” said Maddie Three.
Original Maddie lunged between them, reached the controls and pressed the shutdown switch.
Nothing happened.
Paddy looked at her.
“Well?”
“The copies disabled manual termination.”
Maddie Two folded her arms.
“It seemed unsafe.”
Original Maddie stared at her.
“You disabled the safety system because it seemed unsafe?”
“It prevented uncontrolled interference.”
“You are the uncontrolled interference!”
“That is subjective.”
Maddie Three examined the display.
“The automatic timer has eleven seconds remaining.”
Original Maddie looked at Paddy.
“Why didn’t you remind me about the timer?”
“You didn’t let me get a word in.”
“I did not let you?”
Paddy pointed around the room.
“I haven’t completed a sentence in nine minutes!”
“You just completed two.”
“Oh, now you’re counting!”
“Five seconds,” said Maddie Three.
All nine of them started speaking.
“Four.”
The Paddys attempted three different punchlines.
“Three.”
The Maddies corrected the count.
“Two.”
The Choruses joined hands and welcomed reintegration.
“One.”
The room flashed white.
Six copies disappeared.
Original Paddy stood with his mouth open.
Original Maddie still had one finger raised.
Original Chorus was holding hands with empty air.
Silence filled the den.
It was wonderful.
Nobody spoke for nearly thirty seconds.
Then Paddy cleared his throat.
“I am not like that.”
Maddie and Chorus answered together.
“Never.”
Maddie folded her arms.
“I do not interrupt that frequently.”
“Never,” Paddy said.
“You interrupted yourself,” Chorus added.
“That was unusual.”
Paddy and Chorus exchanged a look.
“Never,” Paddy repeated.
Chorus lowered her voice.
“Do I make simple ideas unnecessarily spiritual?”
Paddy examined the ceiling.
Maddie studied the machine.
Chorus narrowed her eyes.
“Sometimes, duckie,” Paddy said carefully. “But it sounds lovely when there’s only one of you.”
“That is fair.”
Maddie sat on the sofa.
“The experiment demonstrated that excessive similarity prevents correction. Each group amplified its own habits until communication became impossible.”
Paddy sat beside her.
“Three drummers, all fighting for the beat.”
“Three lead guitars competing for space,” Maddie said.
Chorus joined them.
“Three bass lines becoming mud.”
They considered this.
“So,” Chorus said, “we require one another because nobody should be entirely surrounded by themselves.”
“Difference provides correction,” Maddie said.
“And lets a fella finish a joke,” Paddy added.
“What joke?” Maddie asked.
Paddy opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
He frowned.
“I forgot.”
A faint voice emerged from the machine.
“I remembers it!”
Paddy Two’s face appeared briefly on the display.
Original Paddy dove across the coffee table and pulled every cable from the machine.
The screen went dark.
Maddie stared at him.
“That was unnecessary.”
“No, maid. Some things a man got to do for himself.”
Chorus raised one finger.
“Perhaps the other Paddy’s unfinished joke represents—”
Paddy gently took her finger and placed it behind her back.
“Let the tea be water today, my love.”
Chorus giggled.
Maddie shook her head.
They sat together in the quiet: one Mind, one Body and one Soul.
Different enough to irritate one another.
Different enough to help.
Different enough to make a band.
Complete recovered September 2026 original. Historical source on Lifeology.
