AND THERE IT was. Two things at once. A quantum array inserted into source code. Simple really.
Except why of course.
'What bloody fool would tamper with constants and create chaos in such a random way?' Tinker Blomp asked himself as he wandered past the Museum of Past and Forgotten Things.
Then he wandered into the Museum of Past and Forgotten Things, for he just remembered something about the place.
Seeing is disbelieving.
He could not disbelieve what he was seeing.
'Tell me,' he asked a passing assistant who had pondered offering him a brochure but was unsure whether he existed or not, all things considered.
'Tell you what, sir?' the lady said.
'The artist. Is he here? In this building.'
'Ah sir. That's the trick. If you can find him you can challenge him to a duel of realities,' the lady said gleefully. 'Fifty coins a go.'
There was one thing that always held true regarding artists.
'Catch,' and a coin spun in the air, but before it reached the grateful assistant it disappeared. Then it reappeared again some distance away in the hand of a curious looking little man.
'This is Tinker gold,' he said in appalled tones.
'Guaranteed genuine,' Blomp replied, hitching up his robe a moment. The assistant made herself scarce as her offer of tea was dismissed.
The two men stared a while at each other, the one sizing up the other. There was a considerable difference in size, so the smaller of the two opened the conversation which the now departed assistant thought might be likened to a duel.
'I am-'
'I know who you are.'
'I am sorry,' the man completed his sentence at a possible tangent from his initial intention.
'Too late for that.'
'I meant no harm.'
'Too late for that.'
'I sought that space between alternatives.'
'We call it Affinity where I come from.'
'And where's that?'
'The space between alternatives. You've been Tinkering if I am not mistaken.'
'In the name of understanding.'
'Open up a human body to find a human soul and you will make a mess and be none the wiser.'
'I know that now. This was my ticket out of here, you know, before the world ends.' He gestured at the exhibits and their leering ambiguities. Then he held up the coin. 'Thank you for this.'
'It has two sides. Choose the right one.'
'I will.'
Tinker Blomp returned to the library, when it was closed of course, and chose a screen that seemed a little less sticky than the others. He pressed a few panels until a flurry of figures scrolled with rapidity upon a purple background. Then he froze it with a finger.
The finger was on a number.
It was the number nine.
With a little device he had pulled from his pocket he touched the screen again and the nine changed to a zero. No, it reverted to a zero.
The screen was released and began scrolling again happily until it faded and went blank.
It is the greatest gift of free will. To have a choice.
So long as it is the right choice.
Which begs the question.
Is being right, being free?