Bondi Blue
(A note from Germany)

24 June 20-

T0 begin, I ap0l0gize f0r my substituti0n 0f the letter 0s with zer0es. My fingers are large 0n this 0ld, thick keyb0ard, and I 0nce ripped 0ut the 0 key during a freak EP flux several years ag0.

My name is Germany. Bundesrepublik Deutschland. I am the human0id manifestati0n 0f a s0vereign state in central Eur0pe, b0rdered by France, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxemb0urg, Denmark, P0land, the Czech Republic, Switzerland, and Austria. D0 n0t f0rgive me f0r my specificity. I'm an efficient man, but lately I've f0und relaying facts in my head is a s00thing experience. It's therapeutic t0 rec0unt the 0bjective reality I'm living in — a task I take liberal expense t0 c0mplete, given practice and my ign0rance 0f em0ti0nal expressi0n. I'm n0t an artist, but a thinker. I d0n't feel. I act. I see what is true, and I kn0w it's true because I see it. Truth is tangible and physical and quantifiable.

This is why I can't stand t0 be reminded 0f this thing I'm typing 0n. It's an iMac G3, in the c0l0r B0ndi Blue, with a 5mm crack in the upper left c0rner 0f the screen and a screw missing 0n the disc drive s0 the flap is stuck 0pen by 2mm. I keep putting it away in the st0rage cl0set d0wnstairs, and my br0ther keeps taking it 0ut, dusting it, and setting it 0ut 0n the wet bar as a "dec0rati0n."

I purchased this machine in 1999 t0 upgrade my c0mmunicati0n with leaders and friends. My br0ther, wh0 had been living with me since March 0f 1991, enjoyed its capacity f0r games and sending emails. He became 0bsessed with the machine, and I all0wed it. The man went f0rty years with0ut eating a banana. I c0uld aff0rd t0 let him indulge in the w0rk 0f Messrs. J0bs and W0zniak.

I d0n't regret purchasing the machine. It was a techn0l0gical marvel f0r its time — c0mpact, m0bile, and aesthetically pleasing with its space-age shape. My friend and c0lleague America had three 0f them at launch. He rec0mmended I purchase 0ne, and after seeing it f0r myself, I br0ught it int0 my h0use immediately.

N0w it's a nuisance that picks up dust, and my br0ther insists 0n keeping it 0ut. F0r 0nce it's n0t his curse 0f n0stalgia dragging the past back t0 life, th0ugh I wish it was. N0, it's my br0ther's "c0nditi0n" that keeps the iMac 0n the wet bar and the Bible in my side table drawer replaced with a CD bearing 0nly J0hn Mayer's "N0 Such Thing." He t0ld me meditating t0 that s0ng w0uld "awaken my higher p0tential." I buried the CD in the garden last week, but here I am sitting at the iMac, and the br0ken disc drive spits it 0ut at me.

In 2006, my br0ther died sitting at this iMac. I had been painting 0ld Frau Handschuh's kitchen, and when I felt the flux 0f his earth p0wer leaving him and j0ining me, I punched a h0le right thr0ugh her wall. The p00r w0man called an ambulance, thinking the wall had caved in and br0ken my wrist. I explained t0 her that it wasn't br0ken, but I was clutching my chest fr0m the incredible sh0ckwaves 0f the flux, and she t00k this as a bad sign.

I was s0 stressed, but after s0rting her 0ut, I g0t my f00ting and sprinted t0 my h0use. The sh0ckwaves intensified. A full 0ne percent 0f my landmass's ge0thermal energy and cultural c0nsci0usness was being sh0ved int0 my b0dy and mind with the f0rce 0f a wall 0f bullets. My visi0n went d0uble, then turned c0mpletely g0ld. I was half in the State 0f States and half aware 0f my surr0undings. My strength was unc0ntr0llable. I br0ke everything I t0uched. Everything seemed s0 m0rtal and fragile t0 me. I was a m0re c0mplete being.

Then I saw my br0ther c0llapsed 0n his st00l here at the iMac, his duck pajamas all full 0f butter and crumbs fr0m his unfinished breakfast. He was playing s0me game. It was paused fr0m his inadvertent keystr0kes. His head had banged 0n the disc drive. His hair was all wild and unbrushed. I knew he was dead, but he l00ked s0 natural right then. The image is burned int0 my brain, added t0 all my 0ther unwanted mem0ries. It happened s0 many times after that, but I always remember the B0ndi Blue. It was s0 unexpected, yet c0mpletely expected. My br0ther was n0t imm0rtal. I knew he was hiding his weakness fr0m me, but h0w was I t0 kn0w he w0uld die in the m0rning, sitting at his 0utdated iMac in duck pajamas with a smile 0n his face? Was he finally returning t0 religi0n and being the righte0us, humble, wise, 0ld S0l0m0n with his pride in the grave and a smirk 0n his disc-eating face?

My br0ther is the wisest pers0n I have ever kn0wn. He has 0ver 800 years 0f wisd0m, sl0wly gained, that is w0rth m0re than all my eff0rts in this efficient age. We had 0ur fallings-0ut. We squabbled and f0ught like the mismatched siblings we are, but th0ugh neither likes t0 express it, we care s0 much ab0ut each 0ther. I was a child under him, and I still feel like a child. He created me. He raised me. He instilled in me the c0nfidence t0 fight f0r my 0wn destiny, and when I failed, he was there t0 c0mf0rt me. My br0ther was pride. He learned humility. He became the righte0us f00l wh0 can laugh at his 0wn death like it's 0ne big j0ke and m0ve 0n with his day.

The last time he died and came back, his b0dy gl0wed. It didn't gl0w the usual dull, dying pink 0f his EP returning t0 him. It gl0wed B0ndi Blue, just like the c0mputer. The flux 0f his strength returning was s0 dull I c0uldn't even feel it. I th0ught he was g0ing t0 diss0lve 0ut 0f existence. I didn't expect him t0 j0lt awake and start fl0ating. I screamed. I th0ught he was a gh0st, but he started explaining things t0 me, and they made abs0lutely n0 sense. He was speaking n0nsense.

Here I am. It's been 0ver a year, and he's still like this. He's just pers0nified n0nsense. I want t0 believe that everything he says is true because I care ab0ut him and I l00k up t0 him. If he's reveling in n0nsense, then n0nsense must be the truest wisd0m. I sh0uld learn t0 translate and understand it f0r myself. My brain tells me it's useless, but I keep trying. I read what he writes in that j0urnal. I tell him t0 draw me pictures and diagrams 0f the things in his head, but there are s0 many 0f them, and they're s0 unique, I have t0 have him explain them t0 me, but whenever he speaks, my l0gical brain blanks and tells me t0 shut it all 0ut.

I want t0 believe he's making it all up. I want t0 think it's all a delusi0n in his head. It's a new hyperfixati0n he g0es 0n ab0ut t0 keep himself entertained. S0metimes I succeed. S0metimes the B0ndi Blue lens st0ps gl0wing, and all I see is a madman haunted by a p0tassium deficiency wh0 tells me eating a banana will help render me better. I see a madman cursed t0 live s0 l0ng that a butter knife reminds him 0f gl0ries l0ng buried and wrenches him int0 reverent 0bedience. I see a madman wh0, after an age 0f darkness, was intr0duced t0 the beginnings 0f CGI in c0mputer games and thinks they're a different dimensi0n.

I d0n't kn0w wh0 Prussia is n0w. Bef0re, he was a humble f00l. N0w, he's pulling bullshit 0ut 0f thin air right in fr0nt 0f me, and I d0n't kn0w h0w t0 keep up with it all. I th0ught he was a higher being bef0re, but what is a higher being? D0es wisd0m c0me fr0m humility, 0r d0es it c0me fr0m "ascending t0 the Archex0d Plane" and "meeting the w0rm pe0ple?"

Are there really w0rm pe0ple 0ut there? D0 they laugh at me? Am I the prideful 0ne n0w? Pride is bad, but is the alternative madness?

N0, it's n0t madness. If my br0ther is mad, then I'm mad, t00. I see him fl0ating and w0rmh0le-ing and changing shape like he's d0ne it all his life. There's a new fire in him. It's g00d, and it's different. It's very different—

Hey, Germany's at the iMac! Looks like he's finally turned to God! This marvelous machine he's brooding over right now gives one direct access to the inner workings of the cosmos! Its electronics are in tune with 4-D vibewaves, which is why the games developed for it look so similar to all my worm friends! I've tried explaining to him that keeping an old iMac on the wet bar is the same as building a shrine, but he tells me it's not a decoration and puts it back in the closet with this blank, haunted look in his eyes. Maybe because I died sitting at it a bunch of times. Enough banging into the disc drive, and a screw came loose. I'd better stick a butter knife in some water to consecrate it and use it to screw the drive flap back together.

I produce the honey jar I got after stealing all Beetrix's honey and place it on the bar next to where Germany's sitting. He doesn't even notice I'm here. He gets focused like that sometimes. I read over his shoulder and get the picture. Yep. He's getting pretty sappy! All confused about my purpose again and trying to compare me to saints who are not John Mayer. I've told him so many times about meditating to "No Such Thing." When humanity ends, and my baby brother ends up before the Toga Guy, it won't be my fault he gets scolded for thinking there is such a thing as the real world.

I spot the CD lying just under Germany's quivering hands. I reach out and snatch it, but he jumps up so fast he stumbles and falls from the barstool, rolling over the carpet before he can even screech.

"Prussia! That computer is cursed!"

"No it's not. Quite the opposite. It's a heavenly object. Doesn't it look nice right there?"

"No, it doesn't. You died there. You. Died. There."

"But I'm alive now! Kinna! What's the colloquial term? I'm in quantum limbo or some shit? I'm the unpredictable particle? Meow meow?"

Germany's brain is shutting down to my nonsense again. The bubble of Anticanon floating above his head turns all screwy and snowy, then goes completely blank. He lifts himself to his feet and slowly comes over to me before throwing his arms around me and squeezing so incredibly tight. His shoulders quiver, and I know this is gonna be another one of those sessions.

"I can't die, Ludling. We know this now. All those times before were just flukes. I was gaining the knowledge I needed for my new form."

"I don't want you to have a new form. I can't understand it. If I can't understand it, I can't trust it. If I can't trust it, I can't like it. If I can't like it, I can't like you, and I feel so distanced from you. I'm angry. I'm confused. I'm annoyed with you when I shouldn't be."

"Hey now," I whisper, patting him gently on the back, "Listen to me. I know you're trying hard to understand, and that's what counts. You won't understand everything because you haven't seen everything. I don't even understand everything. I just go with what I do understand and try to make it a full picture from there. I wing the cosmos like I used to wing negotiations."

"So… I'm acting childish by being worried. It's my pride getting the best of me. I should be more humble. Your personal insight on the world matters, too."

"Will you quit it with the religion? It's only getting you riled up," I cackle. "Lud, you're allowed to get mad that I changed. It's not pride. It's just human nature. You know I'm not going to smite you or judge you for being overwhelmed. I'm not a god. I'm me. Worship me, but don't worship worship me. I reserve that right for the ladies."

"What ladies?"

"My lips are sealed until you feel better. Here, I'll take care of that for you."

I point at the iMac, then open my fingers and crunch them into a fist. The computer is squeezed away into a tiny pocket dimension. I see its lovely Bondi Blue shell filling up the sphere of folded space-time. It's a celestial orb, only visible to those who value its presence.

"You could've done that a long time ago," Germany says.

I give him a few good slaps on the shoulder. "Why don't you teach me how to fold the sheets?"

He looks stunned, then gradually loosens up and gives the tiniest, cutest smile.

"I'd prefer if you stayed ignorant on that front. Reminds me that you're not all-powerful."

"Sure thing. I'll never fold another sheet, just for you."

~N~

He won't even look at a sheet now.

Updated by Syntax-N Fanfiction . Net June 25th, 2020. Reposters cursed.