Epiphany

Epiphany

Mark A Davis

223

"You know," said Grandpa Anarchy, world's oldest hero, as he hung upside down in a spiked iron cage, "I've had sidekicks who were useless.  Low Blood Sugar Boy, for example, or Most Common Girl, or Boy Waitress or Distractigirl.  And I've had sidekicks who were less than useless -- Whole Grain Kid, may he rest in peace, was no great assett in battle, as I'm  sure you won't be surprised to learn.  But he couldn't even get strawberry pancakes right -- he always grabbed the whole grain batter.  Like I said, less than useless.

"And then there's you," he continued, staring at his current sidekick, the Princess of Purple Prose.  The woman in the elaborate 19th-century purple gown was seated in a cage next to his.  They were being held deep in the space ganome caverns, with a dozen armed guards watching them.  "You talk a good game.  You publish stories on the web -- although I'm having a hard time seeing where that benefits me, per se.  And you claim to have these amazing powers that can turn the tide of battle when things are most dire, but until things have reached their bleakest point, you basically float around in an impenetrable bubble and make notes for your next story.  In fact, I've never seen you do anything else.  Far be it from me to complain about the quality of help my sidekick provides, but I've been wondering, have I ever had a sidekick as useless as you?"

"That is a very rude and inconsiderate thing to say," the princess replied.  "Did I not bring you back to life earlier today?"

"Perhaps you did, perhaps you didn't," replied Grandpa.  "I didn't see it happen, being dead at the time.  But here is the crux of my argument:  I've been in dire circumstances before.  I've even been dead before.  And you know what?  I always escaped or got better.  I came back, and I defeated the villain.  And do you know why?  Because I'm the hero.  Not just a hero, but the hero.  I make the story about myself and my struggle with evil.  So long as that's the story, I will always prevail, because that's how stories work, and stories drive the universe.  You know that better than anybody."

"That is precisely what my powers are all about," said the Princess of Purple Prose.  "When things are darkest, I bring about redemption.  My power of Dramatic Climax Pivot turns things around for the hero."

"Sure," said Grandpa, "but here's my point:  that happens regardless of whether you're present or not.  Trust me, I've been doing this for a very long time, and I haven't ever needed you for things to work in my favor.  So what is it you bring to the table again?"

The princess frowned.

"Well," she said, "of course, that is hardly my only ability.  I have my Impenetrable Third Person Observatory Bubble of Lavender, for one.  Then there is also...."  She paused.  "Well, I am reluctant to even bring it up, because I know you will immediately get the wrong idea, but I do have my Sphere of Purest Amethyst Flame...."

"What's that?" asked Grandpa.  "That sounds like some sort of ball of fire...."

"It is precisely that," replied the princess.  "But I did not want to bring it up because...."

"Hey,  that sounds perfect," Grandpa said.  "You could maybe blast us out of these cages and fry any space ganomes we meet into a crisp...."

"No!" the woman exclaimed.  "See?  I knew you'd get it wrong!  Grandfather Anarchy, I am the impartial observer.  I write the story.  Having me save the day by tossing fireballs about absolutely reeks of a kind of deus ex machina.  You could even term it a sidekick ex machina, or perhaps strictly speaking it would be socius ex machina...."

"Princess," said Grandpa, "there's no such thing as sidekick ex machina.  My sidekick doesn't appear out of nowhere -- he or she is an integral part of the story."

The Princess of Purple Prose stared at him.  Her eyes widened.  "My stars!" she exclaimed.  "I think you are right -- I had never even considered that before!  I could just blast us out of here, could I not?"

***

Grandpa Anarchy strolled through the space ganome tunnels while his sidekick floated beside him in her lavender bubble.  "So," he said, "no fireballs?  Not even one?"

"Well, I considered it," the princess replied.  "And then I thought:  why get my own hands dirty?  Why not a sidekick ex machina, after all?"

Ahead of them floated a heavily-muscled young man in a spandex outfit and with the head of a goat.  He hurled one ganome soldier into three others, then blasted a fourth with beams from his eyes.  "Have no fear, Grandpa Anarchy!" the goat-boy exclaimed.  "SuperGOAT is on the job!  We'll defeat that ganome king and rescue his captive in no  time!"

FINI