Comic Relief #2: Algorithms

Ben sits down next to Mike on the couch. He is drinking a 120 Minute IPA and is mildly buzzed. Mike is drinking a cup full of his own tears.

Ben: Wow, that was quite the adventure. Remember how we escaped that treacherous wall of water?

Mike: Yeah. I was right there.

Ben: Oh. Yes.

Ben sips his beer.

Ben: But are you sure you don’t want to relive it, for the sake of exposition?

Mike: Hm?

Ben is alarmed.

Ben: Hey, Mike, what’s wrong? I’m trying to bring everyone up to speed and you’re just sitting there like a useless lump. You’re sitting there like… like Mike.

Mike: Hm.

Ben: If this were a sitcom, the audience would have laughed an inappropriately long time, disproportionate to the actual funniness of the joke.

Mike: Yes, I know. Insulting me is great for an easy laugh. I’m just not feeling it today.

Ben: Aw, what happened? Did a girl turn you down? (aside) Like any girl would be caught dead talking to you.

Mike: No, it’s nothing like that. It’s this thing I wrote and posted to social media.

Pause.

Mike: I do talk to girls, you know. I mean women.

Ben: Saying “good morning” at the office doesn’t count. And for future reference, you’re not supposed to respond to asides.

Mike: Noted.

Ben: So this thing you posted. I assume it was your manifesto?

Mike: No, it was just this thing I wrote that I thought was really deep and meaningful and well done.

Ben: So what’s the problem?

Mike: The problem is no one’s seen it. See?

Mike shows Ben his laptop, opened to the social media page.

Ben: Oh. Oh, right. I see what the problem is.

Mike: You do?

Ben: Yeah, it’s really a very simple misunderstanding.

Mike: It is?

Ben: It’s not that nobody’s seen it. It’s that nobody liked it.

Mike: But I thought… with the algorithms.

Ben: Nope. Not algorithms. Nobody liked it. It’s a perfectly normal reaction when you write something bad.

Mike: Oh.

Ben sips his 120 Minute IPA. Mike has sunk into his seat.

Ben: Oh, what’s the matter now?

Mike: It’s really shaken my confidence. I worked on this thing and put it out there and… nothing.

Ben: From one artist to another, you’ve got to believe me—that’s the risk you take.

Mike: So this has happened to you too?

Ben: Nah, I’m actually good at writing.

Sitcom-style laughter disproportionate to the quality of the joke.

Comic Relief #1: Flesh

Mike is sitting on the couch. Ben sits down next to him. They are holding beers.

Ben: I like it. It’s real slice-of-lifey.

Mike: How did your wife take the news?

Ben: My wife? You mean the fully fleshed out character who definitely has a name and a rich life outside of our misadventures? That wife?

Mike: I’m not sure anymore. I think so?

Ben: She’s fine. I told her the puppy was defective and had to be sent back.

Mike: Ah, that is, of course, in reference to the previous episode.

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose.

Mike: What? What’s wrong?

Ben: We’re really doing this? We’re going meta again? I thought you wanted this to be accessible.

Mike: Sure, why not? Deadpool’s accessible.

Ben: We’re not Deadpool. We are not a delightful, violent parody. We’re hit-or-miss—mostly miss—Dan Harmon Community bullshit.

Mike: Didn’t you break the fourth wall first? Isn’t it your fault we’ve gone in this direction?

Ben: Don’t make me slap you, Mike. It’s been years since I’ve had to slap you, and I’m not sure how the audience will respond to that in a post-“Me Too” era.

Mike: I mean. You can slap me if you want. If you think it’ll help.

Ben: No, no. The moment’s passed. I just… I thought we could recapture something. That lightning in a bottle. Mike and Ben. Together again. New new adventures. But it’s all the same, isn’t it?

Mike: I mean, it’s not all the same. We’re both a little bit older, a little bit wiser.

Ben: What’s my wife’s name, Mike?

Mike: Her name? It’s, uh—it starts with a J, right?

Ben: Yeah. It starts with a J. Tell me something else, since you know everything. What brand of beer am I drinking?

Mike: Excuse me?

Ben: This is a fully fleshed out world, isn’t it? Surely, you can at least tell me what kind of beer I’m drinking. You’re sitting right there, after all. You can see it with your own eyes, can’t you? Come on, Mike. Give me a little bit of detail.

Ben shoves the bottle in Mike’s face.

Ben: WHAT DOES THE BOTTLE SAY, MIKE?

Mike: (muttering)

Ben: LOUDER, MIKE.

Mike: Beer.

Ben: SAY IT AGAIN.

Mike: Beer. It says beer. All it says is beer.

Ben: And how many have I had? How buzzed am I right now? Am I drunk? Have you put even that much thought into this scene? IT’S A SIMPLE QUESTION, MIKE!

Mike: Hey, I’m in the same boat you are!

Ben: Yeah. “The same boat.” But not really. You’re his avatar, aren’t you? His stand-in.

Mike: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Ben: Oh, so suddenly the fourth wall has fixed itself! Suddenly you have no idea! I can’t help but admire the consistency of it all!

Mike: What’s the problem, Ben? Why can’t we just do normal, you know, Mike and Ben stuff?

Ben: You know why. Because none of it will be new. The only reason we’re here right now is because we’re his crutch. And maybe it would be okay if he’d just do something different. Tell a real story, you know? But instead, once again, it’s just the two of us. No story to take part in. Not even a world to live in. My wife doesn’t even have a name.

Ben squeezes the bottle of “Beer” until it shatters, spraying its contents.

Ben: SHE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A NAME!

Mike: Ben… calm down.

Ben: I’m going home tonight, and I’m going to share a bed with not a person, not a character, not even the idea of a character.

Ben collapses onto the couch.

Ben: Why did he make me aware of this?

Mike: Ben… it’s like you said. You and I… we’re not real. Maybe this is how he wants it. Or maybe a real, fleshed-out world is just… beyond his abilities right now. Maybe he’s still trying to figure it out.

Ben: But he had so much time. I thought he would get better.

Mike: I guess he didn’t use his time very well.

Ben: So… what? We’re just gonna sit here? You’re gonna do Mike stuff and I’m gonna do Ben stuff until… when?

Mike: I don’t like where this is going. We’re Mike and Ben. We’re supposed to have adventures. And punchlines. We’re supposed to be funny.

Ben: Do you hear that? It sounds like… No. He wouldn’t dare.

Mike: Hear what?

Ben goes to the window. It is still shattered from before.

Ben: Where are we?

Mike: We’re at my house.

Ben: I know we’re at your house. But where did he put the house?

He looks out the window.

Ben: I thought so.

Ben goes to the door.

Mike: I don’t think you should go outside.

Ben: Why not? He put us here for a reason. It’s a shitty reason that he improvised, but it’s still a reason. And there’s literally no other course of action. Go outside or don’t go outside? What kind of choice is that?

He opens the door and steps outside.

Mike approaches the door. A beam of sunlight surprises him, and he shields his eyes.

Ben: He went there. I can’t believe he went there. The fucking nerve of him.

Mike: Where are we? The beach?

Ben: Not the beach. The ocean.

Ben steps up to the water. It doesn’t quite touch his feet. He looks up into the sky.

Ben: I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING! YOU THINK I WON’T DO IT?

Mike: This is weird. It’s like… a memory of a memory.

Ben: He’s daring me. He’s fucking daring me to do it. But he’s given me nothing. All I’ve got in this world… is you.

Mike: Ben, I don’t know what’s going on.

Ben: But it’s just not enough. It can’t just be about Mike and Ben. Ben and Mike. I want more. And if this is all he can manage…

Ben takes a step forward. He takes another step. And another.

The water recedes. And recedes. And recedes.

He runs into the ocean. The water parts around him. Eventually, he stands alone in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by a wall of water.

The sun eventually sets.

He sits down on a rock, head in hands.

Mike: Feel better?

Ben looks up. Mike is standing in front of Ben.

Ben: How’d you even get here?

Mike: I couldn’t even tell you what beer you were drinking. What makes you think I could answer that?

Ben: It’s official. God is a writer. And He’s a bad one.

Mike: He tries, though. He wants to be better. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do.

Ben: He used me, Mike. He used a memory of something painful. For what? For drama. It wasn’t even his memory. He stole it.

Mike: He used that memory because it was a powerful one. So powerful that it meant something to him. Even though he was never there. Even though he’s never felt anything like it. Until now, perhaps. Maybe he’s finally reached that place where you found yourself so many years ago, and he now has to decide whether or not to overcome himself. Like you did.

Ben: You don’t know what you’re talking about.

Mike: I know you’re my hero.

Ben: It’s only episode 1. We haven’t done anything yet. We haven’t had any of those crazy adventures, where we learn something valuable and then come home and press the reset button.

Mike: That’s not true, and you know it. And there’s no such thing as a reset button.

Ben: I’m not a hero. Look at where we are. This isn’t where heroes wind up.

Mike: That’s the whole point. This is a memory. It’s in the past. This isn’t where you wound up. For whatever reason, you chose a more difficult path. You’re not cowering behind your fear of failure. You’re working. You’re trying. And I’m… I’m still just me.

Ben: Mike…

Mike: Have you ever stayed the same for so damned long that it feels like it’s literally killing you? Like… Like you’ve outgrown your clothes. Like your soul’s grown too big for the shell that encases it. And all you want is for something—anything—to change. Just one small thing. You just want a little room to wiggle around. Some room to breathe.

Silence.

Mike: I think I’m drowning, Ben.

Silence.

Ben: Heh.

Ben starts to laugh. He gives in to uncontrollable laughter.

Mike: Ben, are you okay?

Ben: I’m fine. I’m fine. Please excuse me.

He wipes away a tear.

Mike: What’s so funny?

Ben: Nothing. It’s stupid.

Ben continues laughing. Mike frowns at him, befuddled.

Finally, Ben catches his breath.

Ben: Hey, Mike?

Mike: Yeah?

Ben: You remember that beer I was drinking earlier?

Mike: Um, yes.

Ben: What was it?

Mike: I think… it was a 120 Minute IPA. That’s your favorite, isn’t it?

Ben: Yeah. Yeah. I guess it is.

Ben takes a deep breath.

Ben: And my wife? What’s her name?

Mike: Why are you asking me?

Ben: Just answer the question.

Mike: It’s Jane. Her name is Jane.

Ben nods.

Ben: Yes, I believe it is. No… I know it is.

He wipes away another tear.

Mike: Ben… I don’t understand. What are we doing here? How did we even get here?

Ben: Isn’t it obvious? We’re on an adventure.

Comic Relief #0: Rabbit Hole

Mike sits at a table, reading a comic and sipping at a soda. He looks up and notices you.

Mike: Oh, hello. Didn’t see you there. Don’t worry, I won’t call the cops. Have a seat. My name is Mike.

Ben enters through a window, shattering the glass. He stands and brushes himself off.

Ben: And I’m Ben.

Mike: Ben, I was just explaining to our new friend here who we are and what we’re all about.

Ben stares at you.

Ben: I don’t know. I don’t think you can handle going down this rabbit hole.

Mike: Is that a metaphor for…?

Ben: Why are you trailing off? Finish the sentence.

Mike: I mean. I don’t want to say it in polite company.

Ben looks at you.

Ben: You. Are you polite?

You shake your head.

Ben looks at Mike.

Ben: Go ahead. You can say it.

Mike: Anyway, you might have noticed that Ben and I have an interesting little dynamic, maximized for your enjoyment.

Ben: The rabbit hole is my penis.

Mike: I am a run-of-the-mill awkward geek. Ben is pretty much the same, except he’s a bit less awkward and a bit more emotionally abusive.

Ben: In a funny way.

Mike hesitates.

Ben: I’m abusive in a funny way. Like, I’m the Roadrunner, and Mike is the Coyote I push off a cliff.

Mike: The Roadrunner never pushed the Coyote off a cliff.

Ben: Sure he did. He must have.

Mike: No, the Roadrunner never directly harmed the Coyote. That was one of the rules.

Ben: Well, you’re stupid and nobody cares about that, or anything else you have to say because you’re worthless.

Ben looks at you.

Ben: See? Funny.

Mike: How is the rabbit hole your penis? How does that even work?

Ben: Stop obsessing about my rabbit hole.

Mike: Well, moving on. I guess you’d like to know what else you can expect. Like, are we going have wacky adventures?

Ben: Heh. Don’t count on it. You’ll probably just get slice-of-life, comic-strip-length stories written for a punchline.

Mike: Well, that’s not necessarily true. There might be larger stories. Some might even call them “epic.”

Ben: You’re the only one who calls them that.

Mike: But we’re probably not gonna do anything crazy right away. We need to get to know each other first. But you’d best prepare yourself, because this is gonna be one wild… Hey, where are you going?

You stand up and turn to the door. Ben is already there. You glance at where he stood before, which was across the room. You don’t know how he could have traversed that distance so quickly.

Ben: You want to leave? Is that it? And miss out on the verbal and (sometimes) physical abuse I heap onto Mike for comedic effect? What’s the matter with you? Do you hate laughter? Do you hate fun?

You back away. You bump into the table. When you look, Mike is opposite you, having risen from his seat.

Mike: Leaving now would really hurt my feelings. And after I made myself so emotionally vulnerable.

Ben: I think you ought to get a sneak preview, so that you understand what you’d be missing out on.

You maneuver around the table, looking around desperately.

Mike: Won’t you stay? Couldn’t you stay? Won’t you be my audience?

You see the window that Ben shattered upon his entrance. You make a run for it. You dive through. And then…

Darkness.

Time passes. You find yourself in a room, unable to move. You are bedridden.

Mike: Ah, you’re awake. You took a nasty fall.

Ben: Actually, the fall wasn’t that bad, from the ground level and all. But you did bump your head a bit.

Mike: And we did drop you a few times getting you back into the house.

Ben: It was almost funny.

Mike: (aside) Story of my life.

Ben: But don’t feel bad. Because while you’re here, we’ll tell you some stories.

Mike: Yes, and then you’ll be our…

Silence.

Ben: What? What’s the problem?

Mike: I was about to say “biggest fan.”

They both groan.

Ben: Misery. We’re copying Misery. Fuck.

Mike: FUCK!!!

Ben: We can’t do stuff like that, Mike. We have to be better than that.

Mike: I know, I know. It just happened, okay? You think I set out to copy Stephen King? I haven’t even read any of his books all the way through!

Ben: Thanks for wasting my time, Mike. My wife has been waiting for me for five hours. I told her I was buying her a puppy. A puppy, Mike!

Mike: I thought I was ready. I really thought I could do this.

Ben: I’m going home.

Ben starts exiting the room. Mike follows.

Mike: You owe me a new window.

Ben: When you think about, you owe yourself a new window.

They continue talking. You look around. You try to move. You can’t.

Mike returns.

Mike: Hey, sorry about all that. I do try my best, but sometimes these things don’t always work out. They say failure can be a great teacher.

Ben: (from elsewhere) STOP QUOTING STAR WARS! THAT ONE WASN’T EVEN VERY GOOD!

Mike: Just… bear with me.

Mike turns to leave, grabbing the door.

Mike: And… get comfortable.

The door shuts.

Calling #3

Sara sits cross-legged, hands folded, on Leo's coffee table while he paces back and forth. Leo has not said anything for a while. At last, he stops.

Leo: Are you sure you're not here to rob me?

Sara sighs.

Sara: I thought it would be easier this way. Talking to you directly, I mean. They warned me not to do it. They said I'd be wasting my time.

Leo stares at him.

Leo: Did my parents send you?

Sara: Your questions are full of assumptions.

Leo: Is this about the money I borrowed? Mom said--

Sara moves to a standing position on the table, unnaturally fast. His voice assumes a "super-real" quality, indicated by italics.

Sara: You are asking the wrong questions. Stop acting like you already have the answers and ask me what you really want to know.

Leo hesitates. Then he acquiesces.

Leo: Okay. Okay. You win.

Leo takes a deep breath.

Leo: Um, what do I want to know?

Calling #2

Leo is on the phone with the police. Sara watches, increasingly impatient.

Leo: Yes. Yes, he's standing right in front of me. I don't know. He slapped a beer out of my hand. I don't know what he wants. Yeah, I can ask. Hang on.

Leo leans forward.

Leo: Are you a burglar?

Sara: A burglar?

Leo: A burglar. A robber. A thief. A bandit.

Sara: I know what a burglar is. And no, I am not here to steal anything.

Leo returns to the phone.

Sara: He says he isn't a burglar. Hold on, I'll ask.

Leo leans forward.

Leo: Are you sure?

Sara holds up one hand.

Sara: I swear.

Leo returns to the phone.

Leo: He swears he isn't a burglar. Uh huh. Okay. I'll tell him.

Leo leans forward.

Leo: They believe you.

Calling #1

Leo is at home. He lives alone. He is sitting on the couch. The TV is on, but he's not particularly interested. He is drinking a beer. He burps.

Someone is in the room with him. He wears a robe and carries a tablet, which he periodically pokes at. His name is Sara. He is an angel, and not technically gendered.

Sara: Excuse me... Um, excuse me?

Leo gulps down some more beer and wipes his mouth with his free hand.

Sara slaps the beer out of his hand.

Sara: Hey!

Leo looks up at him.

Leo: Oh. Sorry. Didn't see you there.

Sara: Well, there's a reason for that.

Leo: One sec.

Leo pulls out his phone.

Leo: Yes, police?

Doomsday Clock #1 (no spoilers)

This is the first comic in a while that I couldn't wait to read. I'm not even a fan of Watchmen, though I have a certain appreciation for it.

I credit books like Watchmen for sending comics storytelling in a darker, more violent direction--a reaction to the goofiness of the Silver Age. (Fans often mistake darkness and violence as being more "adult.") It's taken some decades for the whimsical nature of comics to reassert itself, though it never completely left us. (It did struggle more, though.)

What intrigues me about this book, from the few interviews I've read, is that it is set up as a story about pessimism vs. optimism, despair vs. hope. On a meta-story level, I think it is about the DC heroes reasserting themselves over the influence of Watchmen, in both a character sense and a publication history sense.

Writer Geoff Johns has told versions of this story before, most notably with Infinite Crisis, in which the heroes are all in dark places because of their own decisions and compromises. (This book was hindered by the fact that there were too many other books leading up to it, so I would not call it "standalone.")

This first issue feels accessible, requiring only that we have read Watchmen (something that I'd wager almost any long-time comics fan has done) and have a general knowledge of the DC heroes. In fact, as someone who has not been actively keeping up with DC comics since the launch of New 52 (and has only read the Rebirth special and the "Button" crossover), I didn't feel any confusion at all.

At the core of a story like Watchmen (and seemingly at the core of Doomsday Clock) is that the world--perhaps the universe itself--feels like a villain. Everyone feels helpless and that events are out of their control. Johns even steals a few headlines and talking points from our world--as if he deliberately wants fans to fight each other over this book.

I don't really know what kind of outcome I want from a book like this. I used to think that I wanted the DC heroes to have a definitive triumph over the influence of Watchmen, ushering in a new era of fun and optimism. But ultimately I think the two sides of the equation will have to find a balance.

If Johns is as ambitious as this book makes him seem he wants to be, then ultimately it will tell us something about our own world and our own struggles with hope and despair. The timing of this book couldn't be better--if it's really the book I hope it is.

At 12 issues, it will take a year for this story to unfold. At the rate our culture is moving, I wonder if the relevance and poignancy it strives for will still apply by the time the final issue comes out. Is this book rooted in a specific time, or does it speak to something larger and more universal? If it sticks to a monthly schedule, the final issue will come out shortly after the midterm elections--and no matter the outcome, we will need some optimism.