{"id":14696,"date":"2026-11-03T17:05:39","date_gmt":"2026-11-04T01:05:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/?p=14696"},"modified":"2026-11-03T17:28:54","modified_gmt":"2026-11-04T01:28:54","slug":"bottle-imps","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/2026\/11\/03\/bottle-imps\/","title":{"rendered":"“Bottle Imps” Rudy Rucker & Bruce Sterling"},"content":{"rendered":"

This is new story by me and Bruce Sterling. It appeared on Boing Boing<\/em><\/a>, on Halloween, 2026. And I added it to a new 2nd edition of our anthology, Transreal Cyberpunk<\/em><\/a>, which went live the same day. And now I’m posting the story online, mixing in some photos and paintings that I have kicking around among, including a few (progbably too many)\u00a0 of Bruce & me, for you trufans out there.<\/p>\n

\u2014—————————–<\/p>\n

Bruce and I were guests at Armadillocon in Austin, Texas, in October, 2026. (See my two posts<\/a> on the event.) Very nice scene, and invigorating to see Bruce and his wife Jasmina once again. Sadly my wife Sylvia was no longer with us.\u00a0 I\u2019d befriended another a woman since then, Barb Ash, and she was along for the trip. Interesting to introduce her to the odd and little-known world of pro SF authors. Like, what<\/em>?<\/p>\n

Bruce sat next to me on a “What Is Cyberpunk” panel at the start of the con. \u201cI always knew it would come to this,\u201d he murmured to me. Kind of resigned, but facing it. I was eighty now. Like a Twilight Zone<\/em> episode.<\/p>\n

We couldn\u2019t help but agree to write another story together. Our eleventh! I knew that Bruce had been on a Robert Louis Stevenson kick lately. So I\u2019d been thinking about a possible a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hype routine. I figured Bruce would be Mr. Hyde?\u00a0Bruce thought we should tackle a simpler trope, a magic wishes story, taking off from Stevenson\u2019s classic \u201cThe Bottle Imp.\u201d And I liked that.<\/p>\n

Bruce is always challenging to work with. But I was ready to go. I hadn\u2019t written any fiction for a year. And I knew Bruce and I would end up with something different. When I work with the guy, he gets into my head. But he writes things I like, and his advice is often good. I think of a sword on an anvil. The blacksmith heats the blade to a screaming-hot glow\u2014and whales on it with a sledgehammer. Thereby annealing the steel into something more potent than before. Thus: Bruce revising my work.<\/p>\n

\u2014—————————–<\/p>\n

I had committed to having both the story and the 2nd edition of our Transreal Cyberpunk<\/em> collection be ready on Halloween. I was rushing at the end,\u00a0 working ten hour days for ten days, juggling all the plot twists, corrections, and software tools involved. Bruce was busy in Torino having videos of him filmed. I may not have given him enough leeway time to approve my very last changes to the story. I hope he’s not mad at me. At times we have a little bit of Lennon\/McCartney thing going. But what a great story it is! Enjoy.<\/p>\n

\u2014—————————–<\/p>\n

(\u201cMeeting the Bottle Imp\u201d.<\/em> AI Animaiton<\/a><\/strong> by Bruce Sterling, “The Great Prompter.”)<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u00a0(\u201cThe Bottle Imp.\u201d Painting<\/a> by Rudy Rucker)<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2014——————————————<\/span><\/p>\n

The Bottle Imps<\/h2>\n

Copyright (C) Rudy Rucker & Bruce Sterling<\/em><\/p>\n

On the money front, Lou had a side hustle: hunting bubble jade. He needed it because he was canned.<\/p>\n

Canned from his post as marine biology professor at UFO. Canned like a Monterey sardine. Gone as the monster squid and mosasaur who tussled on a childhood poster in Lou\u2019s home-lab.<\/p>\n

Regarding bubble jade, the name doesn\u2019t mean the stone has bubbles inside. The name only means the gemstone\u2019s surface has circular patterns that resemble bubbles. Bubble jade is heavy. And it\u2019s very, very rare.<\/p>\n

Hunting the precious bubble jade was a long shot, but it was wide open. Not a lot of people would dive for it anymore. Over a hundred feet below the skeevy surf of Jade Cove in Big Sur. Enormous, heavy waves slammed constantly into the cliffs, with spray shooting all the way up past Route 1, spawning hosts of micro-avalanches.<\/p>\n

In previous years, Lou had a tight-lipped crew of former students to help him, all from UFO, the humble career-oriented University of Fort Ord\u2014where Lou had worked. Despite all the good they did for the mostly Latino community, UFO was imploding just now, with a toxic culture-war fomented by new administrators: creationists, born-agains, book burners, and god-pigs. They\u2019d fired Professor Lou Lopez for calling the dean a bone-eating zombie worm.<\/p>\n

With Lou\u2019s comfortable UFO scene blown, his stepdaughter Amparo was now his dive partner. She\u2019d take a day off from her job organizing whale-watch cruises out of the Moss Landing harbor.\u00a0 She was better than the students had been. Smarter, with great reflexes and more stamina. She claimed she could smell the bubble jade, which made no scientific sense, but Lou was willing to call it a fact. Amparo was that good.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Normally the dive season at Jade Cove ended with the summer, but this year, unemployed and needing bread, Lou started having vivid dreams about bubble jade.\u00a0 Dreaming about one specific chunk. It was like a character in a cartoon. A large gingerbread man, bumpy and shiny and beautifully patterned. Telling Lou to come get him. Three nights in a row Lou had this dream. So, okay, he\u2019d go for it, even if it was early November<\/p>\n

The week before, a climate-tweaked Pacific typhoon had torn big chunks from the Big Sur bluffs. So, sure, that might be a good time to hunt jade! And, well, even if it still wasn\u2019t exactly sunny, the rains had abated a bit.<\/p>\n

So Amparo and Lou headed down to Jade Cove, driving Amparo\u2019s large, third-hand, back-country pickup. Lou himself didn\u2019t happen to own wheels just now.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe deserve a big score,\u201d loyal Amparo told Lou on the way down. He\u2019d just told her about his dreams. \u201cVisions are a good sign,\u201d said Amparo. \u201cEspecially for rock hounds.\u201d<\/p>\n

Route 1 was a little iffy, in fact, technically speaking, it was closed, but with Amparo\u2019s charm and Lou\u2019s old-timer connections, they wended their way down the coast, taking some back-road detours along the way\u2014especially old Coast Road that looped inland past the remains of scenic Bixby bridge, half of which had recently collapsed.<\/p>\n

The weather was rather brisk. Nobody else had\u00a0 the gumption to visit Jade Cove today. Our seekers\u2019 hopes rose. What new treasures had the storm unveiled? Clutters of branches jammed the narrow shingle at the water\u2019s edge. Not really a beach. Lou and Amparo wore their heavy-duty hooded wetsuits. They paused at water\u2019s edge.<\/p>\n

Lou took a fond and, he worried, final look at Amparo. Her fit form was surf-cured like salmon jerky, her hair a dense shock. She had a tense, dramatic look. She\u2019d inherited her mother Lupe\u2019s gift for bending unlikely men to her will. Could Amparo\u2019s fisherman boyfriend Renato possibly be a proper match for such a mermaid?<\/p>\n

Amparo\u2019s mother Lupe had left Lou a few years ago. They\u2019d never gotten legally divorced. Lupe wanted to land a big fish first. She\u2019d had a few affairs, but the high-rollers wouldn\u2019t marry her. Lupe could be a little raw. Her job these days was so-so. She managed the checkers at the big Costco in Sand City. Her hobby was fitness. She was a gym rat, and skilled at judo.<\/p>\n

Lou had to admit that he missed Lupe, and Lupe knew that, and maybe at some level she missed Lou. She liked to stop by the house, just to talk. She\u2019d sit with Lou and quietly rattle his chain. And remind him that she still owned half the house, and that he should maintain it better for when it was time to flip it. Ah, Lupe.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go, Poppy,\u201d said Amparo, interrupting Lou\u2019s reverie. \u201cDive in.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lou waded through the surging waves. Gave a farewell whoop, mouthed his regulator, donned his fins, and slipped beneath the surface.<\/p>\n

For her part, Amparo was thinking how nuts this was. They were little crabs looking to pinch something tasty. Hoping for a speck of joy.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Lou swam down along the underwater bluff, stopping at 120 feet. Unwise with no special equipment, but he was a veteran diver. He figured he knew what to do. If he only stayed fifteen minutes, he\u2019d be safe enough.<\/p>\n

He fought his way through a tangled forest of giant kelp. And then, aha, he saw a spot where the undersea wall was bare of growth.\u00a0 Swept clear by the violence of the typhoon. Better than that, the wall was heavily cracked, giant plinths of granite leaning together. And, aha again, Lou saw something embedded in one of the plinths\u2026something beautiful.<\/p>\n

But he had a problem. His thoughts were echoing. Rapture of the depths kicking in. Nitrogen narcosis\u2014that thing where the pressure drives nitrogen into your blood and you space out. Maybe he was a little deeper than 120 feet? He hadn\u2019t been watching his depth gauge and, oh hell, he couldn\u2019t seem to read his gauge at all. Fully narced.<\/p>\n

But here came trusty Amparo, tugging on his arm, signaling it was time to head toward the surface. Amparo was in control. She was, up to a point, more resistant to the narcosis than Lou. She had her mother Lupe\u2019s grit.<\/p>\n

But Lou wasn\u2019t stopping now. He was looking at the biggest chunk of bubble jade ever. He pointed toward it so Amparo would see. It jutted from an immense stone chunk like a time capsule emerging from the past. Massive, the size of a human, or of a coffin. A sarcophagus! In his addled state, Lou was somehow thinking this would be a good place to die. Or,\u00a0 no Lou, a place to get rich.<\/p>\n

Dragging Amparo along, Lou went and ran his hand across the bubble jade, stroking it like a pet. Divinely smooth, with soft bullseye patterns, lovely beyond compare. Did he see faces inside it?<\/p>\n

Insanely intent, Lou unsheathed his big dive knife, drove the point into the crack along the jade, and pried. Did it again, and did it a third time. Like extracting a molar. The bubble jade twisted clear\u2014but somehow it wasn\u2019t properly heavy. It was light. The precious boulder rose straight toward the surface, keeping pace with the bubbles from Lou and Amparo\u2019s SCUBA. Impossible.<\/p>\n

Lou wanted to swim straight to the surface. He could see the gleaming underside of the floating jade up there. High, high overhead. Amparo slowed Lou by main force. Slowed him enough so that he didn\u2019t burst a lung or get the bends.<\/p>\n

And then finally they were out, fins and masks off, staggering across the shore\u2019s rugged stones\u2014and herding the floating raft of bubble jade along. Dragged it onto a dry spot at water\u2019s edge. Sat on a log panting, touching their stone, wondering.<\/p>\n

\u201cSmooth as a yacht hull,\u201d said Amparo. There were rather a lot of wrecked yachts on the shores of California these days.<\/p>\n

\u201cSuch a beautiful sheen,\u201d said Lou. \u201cAll those blues and greens,\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWith bulls-eye circles on the bumps. Polished from tumbling for\u2026what? Centuries? Thousands of years? What a score, Poppy. Epic.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExcept that it\u2019s too light,\u201d said Lou.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Yes, as a smooth and surf-tumbled giant gemstone, it would have been a truly fantastic score, but somehow it seemed more bubble than jade. Easily they balanced the great, near-weightless piece on one end, with near-weightless ease. It was streamlined like a speed-smoothed meteorite found in the dirt, but grand in size, even monumental.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe it\u2019s hollow inside,\u201d suggested Amparo. \u201cFull of great crystals!\u201d<\/p>\n

Lou rapped on\u00a0 the object with the butt of his dive-knife. \u201cI really don\u2019t think this is really stone. Or metal. And forget plastic. Down at 120 feet inside a block of granite?\u201d He put on his professor voice. \u201cHighly anomalous.\u201d<\/p>\n

He scraped at the surface with the sharp tip of his knife. The tip snapped off with a sharp ping. He tapped hard on the surface\u2014and the rock tapped back, very rapidly, like the sound of a woodpecker.<\/p>\n

Out to sea, the waves were rising. The rain had renewed its force, lashing pockmarks across the tubes. Amparo ran her hands over their lovely prize.<\/p>\n

\u201cI say something\u2019s alive inside it,\u201d said Amparo. \u201cThose dreams you had?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s take it home,\u201d was all Lou said.<\/p>\n

They loaded the specimen into the bed of Amparo\u2019s lumbering primer-painted back-country pickup. An apparent lump of dense, precious rock that somehow seemed not to weigh more than fifty pounds. They tied ropes across it in the truck bed, but that didn\u2019t seem like enough. What if it slipped out?<\/p>\n

As if hearing Lou and Amparo\u2019s worried discussion, the treasure stone obliged them by making itself heavy. Solidly in the truck.<\/p>\n

Lou and Amparo rode comfortably home. They sang songs most of the way, very cheerful, repeatedly looking back to make sure their wondrous find remained in place.<\/p>\n

Lou\u2019s house was a structure he\u2019d cobbled onto the concrete and steel stub of a dead railway spur in a lost zone of Sand City, a formerly blue-collar district near Monterey, and by now a home for big box stores.<\/p>\n

The house itself was on a gravel road at the very edge of Sand City, with steps running up to the living quarters from the front yard, as well as a ramp from the yard to the lab.<\/p>\n

Over time, Lou had hammered his dwelling into shape, mostly with sweat-equity from his UFO grad-students. He\u2019d installed a kitchen, bathrooms, windows, flooring, rugs and hand-crafted furniture\u2014the finer touches at Lupe\u2019s wifely commands.<\/p>\n

The harsh industrial lighting had been muted to pleasing apricot tones. Amparo\u2019s quarters had pastel walls and a view of the sea. Some nooks were reef-like lairs with orchids and plump succulents. Lou and Lupe owned it, free and clear.<\/p>\n

The place had been a campus party-house for a while, in happier days: red wine had flowed, Bach had played along with old corrida ballads, with gnarly debates and abstruse arguments till the pink glow of dawn. But no more.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Lou wished Amparo would adopt an academic career like his. He felt Amparo deserved a Ph.D. from UC Berkeley.\u00a0 And a research post at the Moss Landing Marine Laboratories.<\/p>\n

Amparo knew what her stepfather wanted, but she\u2019d counter with remarks about the world as she saw it. \u201cThe student debt would crush me.\u00a0 Our universities are scams these days, Poppy.\u00a0\u00a0 They\u2019re not here for my dreams, my house, my baby, my big career. We\u2019re a permanent underclass. Rags to rags in four generations. Also, I hate school.<\/p>\n

Safe at home Lou and Amparo dried themselves, dressed, and laid the agreeably light-weight jade form on the not overly clean carpet of the lab. For now the thing was quiet.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf it\u2019s hollow, we gotta be able to open it,\u201d said Amparo. \u201cI like it. So pretty and smooth. Like a bowling pin.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lou fetched a wheeled plastic case of heavy-duty tools.<\/p>\n

The jade bowling-pin seemed to sense this menacing activity. Smoothly, soundlessly, it shrank down to a new form, a new shape. A form with the distinctly casual air of an empty wine bottle tossed from a car. A classy white-wine bottle. Glassy and tapering with no opening on the top. It kept the same colorations\u00a0 before. A pattern like bubble jade.<\/p>\n

A long silence. Lou sighed. \u201cI\u2019ll do this as a matter of principle. Not that I\u2019m expecting much.\u201d He laid the bottle-specimen on the lab bench and set to work with a microscope, fluorescent light, and a full deck of reagents. Probing for mineral composition, organic traces, and any evidence of metabolism. Scanning for growth layers, tubes, pores, vessels, and cellular textures.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Acids and bases dribbled right off. Chisel and hammer got nowhere.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think it\u2019s even made of atoms,\u201d said Lou.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything has to be made of atoms,\u201d said Amparo, losing patience.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about reflections?\u201d Lou said.<\/p>\n

\u201cPut it on the scale,\u201d said Amparo. \u201cWeigh it.\u201d<\/p>\n

The digital readout of Lou\u2019s scale flickered back and forth, like a gasoline pump fried by Middle Eastern warfare.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis thing is a phantom,\u201d Lou sourly said. \u201cOur bottle is literally made of nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re too rough with it,\u201d decided Amparo. \u201cLet me try talking to it.\u201d She gave the bottle a thorough polish with a handy microfiber cloth. \u201cCome on out,\u201d she said, and set the bottle down with a clack.<\/p>\n

The bottle rocked and its surface cleared. Like a two-way mirror. Pale green light inside. Lots of room toward the center, more and more space, the further in your eye went. Like the reflection in a Christmas tree ball. The image was slightly veiled by the now-faint bubble-jade pattern on the outer surface.<\/p>\n

Two imps were visible, if you want to call them that. A large one and a small. Male and female, if you will.<\/p>\n

They passed through the surface like a sleight of hand-trick. And slowly the imps grew larger, right up to human size.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Quube,\u201d said the bigger imp, with a voice like a pneumatic hiss. His flesh was tan, with parts of it chromed over. A head, a torso, spidery arms and legs. He had no more material substance than the shine in a wicked woman\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m QubQub,\u201d said the smaller one. High, cracking voice. The smaller imp was not as fully-rendered as the bigger one. As if she couldn\u2019t be bothered to properly dress.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe can grant wishes,\u201d said Quube. He seemed in a hurry. Like a car salesman rushing a sucker. \u201cEntities on the surfaces of planets always want that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amparo cut to the chase. \u201cHow many wishes do I get? Am I limited to three?\u201d<\/p>\n

QubQub let out a hissing giggle. \u201cNo, senorita. One only wish.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut extended membership plans are available,\u201d added Quube.<\/p>\n

Amparo turned to Lou. \u201cThis is a scam, Poppy. It\u2019s bots with holograms. As if we\u2019re rubes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a scam,\u201d said little QubQub. \u201cIt\u2019s higher science. We\u2019re from infinite dimensional Hilbert space. Seeing what you\u2019re like, and what you\u2019ve got.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExperiencing the qualities of your qualia,\u201d said Quube. \u201cFrom the inside out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHilbert space,\u201d said Lou, kind of smiling. \u201cWhatever you say. Let\u2019s see where this trip goes, huh, Amparo?\u201d<\/p>\n

Quube and QubQub were settling into their new environment, and became more perceptible to humans, Their faces were crooked cartoons. Shiny black eyes. Long, air-hissing lips.<\/p>\n

They stretched their narrow arms and kicked their legs, enjoying their freedom. They seemed glad to visit a new world. Glad to be out of their bottle.\u00a0 They ran in circles around the laboratory, skipping and dancing and making shrieking, wub-wub sounds, like a pair of techno DJs. They capered on the walls and ceiling, as if gravity was beneath their notice. Like two subdimensional shadow-puppets projected on a screen of earthly physics.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s like they\u2019re drunk,\u201d said Amparo.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re on shore leave!\u201d said Lou.<\/p>\n

He was thinking of the working lives of the world\u2019s great oceanographers. Rotten, repurposed boats, cramped quarters, bad food from the galley, endless storms and pitching decks, the smell of fish and formaldehyde everywhere. That was part of the mission. Charles Darwin did that on the Beagle.<\/p>\n

With an alarming, glitchy special-FX stretch, Quube loomed across the lab to get into Lou\u2019s face. \u201cGo ahead, pick one wish apiece. Spill up your guts, your deepest desires, we want to see them!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou two are special to us,\u201d added QubQub. \u201cYou and Amparo helped us at Jade Cove. A very long time ago, we grew a tunnel into your world. But the tunnel ended inside a giant mass of granite. And the tunnel wouldn\u2019t pull back. And we couldn\u2019t cut the tunnel loose. We were stuck. I fell asleep. And then something happened, and I woke up, and Quube said a guy named Lou could get us all the way out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d said Lou.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s like QubQub said,\u201d replied Quube. \u201cOur tunnel was stuck inside the rock. We couldn\u2019t push loose. The dimension was tilted wrong. So we had to wait. Finally an avalanche cracked the rock. But we still weren\u2019t quite all the way out. But now I could vibe, and I found you, Lou, and I gave you dreams about bubble jade, and you showed up, and hooray.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re intrepid explorers!\u201d said Amparo.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, yes\u201d chirped QubQub, who was beginning to manifest in a more gendered, human-girlish fashion. \u201cAnd collectors. With powers over your world. Is there anything you need?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, to begin with, we\u2019re poor,\u201d said Amparo.<\/p>\n

QubQub giggled. \u201cYou\u2019ll never know how poor! You should see how bitchin\u2019 it is in the subdimensions. That\u2019s, like, the downtown of Hilbert space.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd, by the way, you can go there if you enroll in that membership plan I mentioned,\u201d said Quube.<\/p>\n

Amparo ignored the sales pitch, and focused on her wish. Keep it simple. \u201cMy crappy old beater truck is a pain in my ass. So if\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be hasty!\u201d Lou cried, hastily. \u201cThis might be the greased path to Hell. Everybody knows that about bottle imps. We can\u2019t just shout commands at crazily powerful aliens! We need precautionary principles and an ethical structure. And a code of responsible behavior.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amparo looked at him with pity. \u201cOh, Poppy, you\u2019re a scientist from California. You\u2019ve never done any of those things in your whole life.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lou was crestfallen. \u201cWell, that\u2019s true. But I wish we could have lunch before starting on big plans.\u201d<\/p>\n

Oops<\/em>!<\/p>\n

An old, sealed window cracked open in the wall of the lab. A $39.99 Taco Bell Party Pack floated through, and settled onto the workbench. The fast-food meal was closely followed by a Drink Party Pack.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh fuck!\u201d screamed Lou, utterly sickened by his bush-league blunder. \u201cCouldn\u2019t you at least have gotten food from Tia Veronica\u2019s? I mean, shit, this isn\u2019t real. You have to let me\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cToo late!\u201d cried Quube, obviously enjoying himself. \u201cToo late! Too late! Too late! You might be interested to know that by way of enhancing your wish, Lou, we folded in the desires of three fruit flies living in your lab. Their tiny brains are refreshingly classic. Honest, simple, sincere. No mixed states and quantum collapse for these little fellows.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Meanwhile Amparo was deftly unfolding the Taco Bell boxes and removing the tacos and burritos. She crunched through a ground-meat, ice-berg-lettuce and a cornmeal taco-shell with her strong white teeth.<\/p>\n

\u201cEat some, Poppy. It\u2019s American food. You eat it when you\u2019re drunk. How did you get the food anyway, Quube?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA childishly simple matter of material translocation,\u201d said Quube. His voice was improving rapidly; he sounded less like a rusty steam-whistle, and almost like\u2026like a professor. \u201cWe scarcely had to bend a law of physics.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re bastards to trick Lou,\u201d said Amparo, starting her second taco. \u201cI\u2019m not gonna blow my wish.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat will it be then, young lady,\u201d said Quube.<\/p>\n

Amparo thought things over, sipping at her customary Mountain Dew Baja Blast. \u201cI think you already know what I want. A new pickup truck.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo hear is to obey,\u201d said Quube.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd no tricks,\u201d said Amparo. \u201cA maxed-out top-of-the-line pickup exactly like Renato has.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me do it, it\u2019s my turn!\u201d cried QubQub. Her poorly-realized feet had taken on more solidity. In view of the rain, she\u2019d gone for flat, webbed ones. Duck feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cLo and behold!\u201d she exclaimed. They heard a thud outside.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The four of them made their way outside Lou\u2019s hulking steel and concrete dwelling, walking down the steps to the front yard. The rain had stopped and the sun was peeking out. A handsome pickup truck had appeared. A pearlescent truck with chrome trim. It had settled into the wet dirt without disturbing it.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, but\u2026that\u2019s Renato\u2019s truck,\u201d wailed Amparo, instantly recognizing it. \u201cWith my photo on his dash. You stole my boyfriend\u2019s truck!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s yours now,\u201d QubQub calmly said. \u201cYou ate our food, now you drive our truck. The key is in it. I put the title and insurance in your name. Drive it around, it\u2019s yours.\u201d<\/p>\n

Unable to resist, Amparo yanked open the door, climbed in, honked the horn. She took the wheel, backed out of the yard, and made screechy turns, zooming up and down the dirt road away from the lab, veering, even skidding a donut.<\/p>\n

She then drove back, braked the truck fiercely and hopped out. \u201cI always wanted Renato\u2019s truck. And his boat.\u201d She paused. \u201cBut not like this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should just marry Renato,\u201d said QubQub.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s your true wish,\u201d said Quube. \u201cThe one you didn\u2019t say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRenato keeps not asking me,\u201d said Amparo.<\/p>\n

\u201cFrankly, I don\u2019t think he\u2019s smart enough for my stepdaughter,\u201d interrupted Lou.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe is smart,\u201d cried Amparo. \u201cJust not around you, Poppy. Nobody else is allowed to be smart, when you\u2019re around. Basically you want to stall my life forever, because you don\u2019t want to be alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou tell him, Amparo,\u201d said QubQub, going into telepathic life-counselor mode. \u201cAnd Amparo, the only reason Renato doesn\u2019t ask you to marry him is that he\u2019s scared you\u2019ll say no. Because of your stepfather. And, Lou, the guy didn\u2019t go to college at UFO, but he\u2019s running a fishing boat, which is something Professor Lou Lopez would never be smart enough to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Lou frowned and shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cRenato adores you,\u201d Quube said to Amparo. \u201cHe\u2019ll do anything you say. A smart, hard-working guy, at your service. Like a tame bear in a little cottage with furniture. Just tell him whatever you want. If he knows what it is, and if he can find it on Amazon, you can have it, fresh in a box.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI love it!\u201d exclaimed Amparo.<\/p>\n

Lou didn\u2019t like where this was heading. He shot a pic of the abducted pickup, and messaged it to Renato with location attached. Hoping to fill him with rage. From Lou\u2019s point of view, this seemed like a good strategic move. What was with these damn imps? Amparo got a stolen truck, and Lou got gringo junk food.<\/p>\n

He turned on his heel and went back into the house. The two imps followed him, trailed by a reluctant Amparo, who was still trying to sort out what was going to happen.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe were just teasing you with the food,\u201d Quube quietly said to Lou, coming up next to him. \u201cWe have a better wish for you. We\u2019ll grant it later. After you say it aloud. So don\u2019t worry.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lou shook his head, not wanting to discuss this. \u201cI\u2019d like to know where you came from. I mean, what is the bottle, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSimple,\u201d said Quube. \u201cWe bulge our a tunnel that connects our world to yours. And the bottle is the tunnel.\u00a0 From your point of view our<\/em> universe is inside the bottle. But from our point of view, your<\/em> word is inside the bottle. You think the bottle is lying in your living room. We think the bottle is inside the lounge on our ship. Very Kurt G\u00d6del.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

They were in Lou\u2019s comfortable living room. The half-silvered wine bottle was here too, rather large, leaning against a heap of tasseled silk cushions, vaguely Ottoman-Turkish. The imps were proud of their house, or spaceship, or whatever it was.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd we can look inside it?\u201d asked Lou.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d said Quube. \u201cYou two freed us from Jade Cove.\u201d<\/p>\n

The reclined bottle was at a debonair angle, its smooth, slanting surface exposed.<\/p>\n

\u201cStick your head through the wall,\u201d advised Quube. \u201cIt\u2019s like a soap-bubble film. But keep your feet outside, or you\u2019ll slide all the way through.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat would happen if we slid all the way through?\u201d asked Amparo, her head turning back and forth. Trying to understand everything at once.<\/p>\n

\u201cHaven\u2019t you been listening?\u201d said Quube in a not very nice way. And then he chuckled. \u201cYou might end up in our world for keeps. That\u2019s what it means to get a full membership plan. But let\u2019s not rush things. For now, stick your head in there and peek.\u201d<\/p>\n

The space in the bottle was a pocket eternity. It was like the skin of a black hole turned into a luxury wrap. Like a Lewis Carroll chessboard whose squares get smaller as they near the center of the board\u2014and the fleeing queen never gets to the middle because she shrinks with each step.<\/p>\n

Not that the space in here was a tidy grid. It was more like the old-town district of Lisbon, all turns and forks and ramps and unexpected gates, the details crumbly yet precise Lou and Amparo saw live things back there, too. Butterflies and whales and kinfolk of QubQub and Quube.<\/p>\n

A faint soundtrack tickled the air: far-gone Nowheresville jazz, seeping from the tapering horn of an endless trumpet whose bell lay near their feet, and whose mouthpiece might be at maze\u2019s core. Gabriel\u2019s horn.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d like to grab hold of that trumpet,\u201d Lou said to Amparo. \u201cJust to show these imps who\u2019s boss.\u201d<\/p>\n

But now, speaking of horns, a Chicano-style custom Harley was tootling in their yard. Renato on his brother\u2019s bike.<\/p>\n

Amparo was out there in a flash. Renato seemed more puzzled than angry.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou wack or some shit, Amparo? You\u2019re stealing my truck?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not,\u201d she stuttered. \u201cIt\u2019s not me. Please don\u2019t be mad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Renato saw that his vanished truck was to be returned unharmed, and immediately found this funny. His too-smart, soul-troubled girlfriend was the manic-pixie in his life. He had never understood her, and never would, and didn\u2019t want to, because her antics cheered him up.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re out there, babe. You\u2019re wild.\u201d He threw his arms around her. \u201cDon\u2019t cry, Amparo. I know you hate your shitty lunker pickup, but\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFix things!\u201d Quube ordered QubQub. \u201cNow!\u201d<\/p>\n

A fresh gesture from the little imp, the gesture grander than before, and now ka-boom<\/em>. A new truck sat in the yard beside Renato\u2019s bike and his stolen white truck. The new truck was midnight black with gold trim. Motor running.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, look,\u201d called Amparo as she got in. \u201cIt\u2019s got Renato\u2019s photo glued to the dash!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBetter than that,\u201d sang out little QubQub. \u201cTry the extra lever by the steering wheel. Your new car can fly! That\u2019s some serious direct matter manipulation, eh, Quube? I copied a flying car from Beta-9. So stop putting me down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my god,\u201d said Renato, more excited than Amparo had ever seen him. \u201cOh my god, oh my god. Can I fly it, Amparo? Take it over the bay. It would be cool to spot schools of fish. Give me an hour. Please?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re cute when you beg,\u201d said Amparo, very happy. \u201cOf course you can borrow it, dear Renato. But be careful! And you have to giv<\/em><\/strong>e me a kiss. And tell all these people that you love me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Renato grinned. \u201cI do love Amparo. Of course. Who doesn\u2019t.\u201d They kissed, and then he was gone.<\/p>\n

It was sunnier than before, with puffy clouds.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re taking a walk,\u201d said Quube. \u201cSee how it feels. We\u2019ll be back. Just a little errand down at Costco.\u201d They turned, heading downhill toward the Sand City chain stores.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait, wait,\u201d called Lou. \u201cWhat about the bottle?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019ll be okay,\u201d said Quube.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave fun,\u201d added QubQub.<\/p>\n

As Quube and QubQub walked away, their bodies were shifting. Taking on more human forms.<\/p>\n

Lou and Amparo stood alone, wondering what the hell to do.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey really are aliens,\u201d said Amparo. \u201cNot magic sprites. They came a long way. And that bottle, it\u2019s\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe door to their spaceship,\u201d said Lou.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd they left the spaceship wide open. I think it\u2019s still running, Poppy. Like they left the keys in the ignition.\u201d<\/p>\n

They went and took another look at the bottle, comfortable angled against the cushions in their living room. Probably it could outstrip the speed of light. If speed even matters to an alien spaceship from infinite-dimensional Hilbert space.<\/p>\n

Tentatively they stuck their heads through the membrane-like surface once more. Taking a better look. Everything was calm. Light emanated from the walls, which were decorated with delicate multi-color patterns. Exquisite objects rested on the smooth nearby shelves. Eye candy like you\u2019d see in a gallery of art-glass. Strange fruits, eldritch figures, paradoxical polytopes, fantastical nudibranchs. That tapering bugle\u2019s bell still rested nearby, and its tube writhed inward through the halls, its endless curves heading for the central infinity, a pipeline to the depths of Hilbert space and whatever lived there.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cThey said don\u2019t go all the way inside,\u201d cautioned Lou.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think we\u2019d be trapped,\u201d said Amparo. \u201cRemember what they said about a membership plan? And how happy those two imps were to get out? Running around the walls of your lab? How long do you think they might have been trapped?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA horrible relativistic Einstein-Hawking stretch of time,\u201d suggested Lou. \u201cNot to mention that the geometry inside the spaceship is warped. You might flatten out like an M. C. Escher drawing. Or turn inside out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish Quube and QubQub weren\u2019t weird aliens from Hilbert space. I mean, they were giving me good advice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd the advice worked for you, Amparo. In an indirect way. I mean, Renato came out and said he loved you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled. \u201cToo true. Maybe that\u2019s the first time I ever really got a wish. And don\u2019t keep saying I could do better than Renato. I hope he\u2019s careful with my flying car.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you notice what the imps were doing as they walked away?\u201d said Lou. \u201cChanging shape.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt almost looked like\u2026looked like they were disguising themselves as you and me?\u201d said Amparo.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo creepy,\u201d said Lou. \u201cWhat if, just for hell of it, you and I did become bottle imps. Just for a while. We move into the spaceship, and learn all about it, and go on amazing trips, and then come back and fix things on Earth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat might work for you, Poppy,\u201d said Amparo. \u201cBut I\u2019m not going into that ship. I\u2019m staying here with Renato. I want to start my real life.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d hate to go aboard the imps\u2019 ship alone,\u201d said Lou.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

And now, all of a sudden, Quube and QubQub are back from their outing. Looking like their same sketchy, scary, capricious bottle-imp selves.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou never told us what you really want,\u201d QubQub said to Lou.<\/p>\n

\u201cConfess,\u201d added Quube. \u201cIt\u2019s time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want anything,\u201d mumbled Lou, very uneasy.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou do want things,\u201d Quube hissed. \u201cJust now you were telling Amparo that you might want to come aboard our ship. And\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026I don\u2019t know,\u201d said Lou.<\/p>\n

\u201cSpit it out,\u201d cajoled QubQub. \u201cBare your down and dirty heart\u2019s desire.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish Lupe would come back to me,\u201d cried Lou. \u201cLike in the old days. Make us fajitas and salsa. We\u2019d throw a big house-party. We\u2019d be happy.\u201d He clamped his hands to his cheeks. \u201cI don\u2019t mean any of that.\u201d<\/p>\n

The imps disappeared into their bottle. Laughing.<\/p>\n

Lou and Amparo heard the grinding clatter of an old car. Footsteps on the stairs\u2014and here was Lupe. Like an older Amparo, but tougher. And still hot, at least in Lou\u2019s opinion. His Guadalupe. Her made-up eyes flicked quickly around the room, coming to rest on the spaceship bottle.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cSo many secrets,\u201d purred Lupe. \u201cCutting me out? Aren\u2019t we three still close? We\u2019re still married, Lou. And I still own half this house.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t start,\u201d said Lou. \u201cI don\u2019t want a scene. I was going to tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHalf an hour ago I was on my lunch break from Costco, and I saw a truck up in the air over the bay,\u201d said Lupe. \u201cLike a pelican looking for fish. Gliding along smooth as a magic carpet. I recognized the driver. Renato.\u201d Lupe stepped closer. \u201cTalk to me, Lou.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook,\u201d said Lou. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing to get excited about.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter I saw the car, two people came up to me. They looked like my husband and my daughter. Even though they weren\u2019t you.\u00a0 They said Lou wants me back.\u201d Lupe moved still closer.<\/p>\n

The bottle ship was making a noise, a low hum. As if it was about to take off. Its hull remained diaphanous, like a soap bubble, and perhaps still permeable. A tidy stack of gold ingots rested on the floor inside. Bait. Out of reach.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t let that gold get away!\u201d cried Lupe. \u201cGet it, Lou!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll go if you come too,\u201d said Lou.<\/p>\n

\u201cHell no,\u201d snapped Lupe.<\/p>\n

She caught Lou\u2019s wrist and elbow, ducked, twisted, and threw him into the bottle.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Figures moved within the bottle. Quube and QubQub and\u2026others. A big lavender butterfly was in the air. The bugle was jabbering in an unknown tongue. The gold glinted. In the distance a giant squid was fighting a toothy prehistoric mosasaur, as if cloned from the poster in Lou\u2019s lab.<\/p>\n

Lupe gestured wildly to her husband. He seemed sluggish. As if confused. Lupe called out to Amparo. \u201cHe\u2019s supposed to be getting that gold! He\u2019s supposed to do it alone!\u201d<\/p>\n

Amparo mirrored her mother\u2019s recent move. She put a leg behind Lupe and butted the woman with her head. Lupe staggered backwards, completely off balance, falling through the tunnel wall, and then she was fully inside, toppling the stack of gold.<\/p>\n

The surface glazed over. Plain old bubble jade. With a sliding upward whistle, the Hilbert space craft was gone.<\/p>\n

Amparo shuddered, sobbed, laughed. She was free.<\/p>\n

More sounds outside. Renato in Amparo\u2019s new truck.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cHey mamacita<\/em>,\u201d he called, looking up at her. \u201cSmall problem. It doesn\u2019t fly anymore. Maybe I can fix.\u201d<\/p>\n

Casting off family sorrows, Amparo ran down to hug him. Strong and warm. He smelled good. She spoke.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you marry me, Renato? Let\u2019s just do it. We\u2019ve got my house, your boat, our two trucks. It could work.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSi<\/em>,\u201d said Renato. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014—————————–<\/p>\n

Rudy on \u201cThe Bottle Imps\u201d<\/h3>\n

Near the end of\u00a0 my work on this talse, I had one of those flashes that, as an SF writer, I live for. I realized that the \u201cbottle\u201d can the thought of as the neck of 4D tunnel that connects two parallel worlds.<\/p>\n

My illustrator David Povilaits drew an image of such a tunnel for my book The Fourth Dimension (Houghton Mifflin 1984, Dover Books 2014)<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a Flatland-style diagram. That is, the planes represent 3D spaces, and the vertical direction represents the fourth dimension. The \u201cbottle\u201d here is a transparent circle around the throat of the tunnel, which consists of circles stacked in the third dimension..<\/p>\n

And for us 3D beings, the bottle is a transparent sphere, halfway through the tunnel, which consists of spheres stacked in the fourth dimension.<\/p>\n

Key realization: in each of the two connected spaces, the locals see the bottle as containing a world inside. We see Quube inside the bottle; Quube sees us inside the bottle. One and the same bottle\u2014seen from two different sides.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s like we\u2019re looking into a reflective ball with a different world inside, and critters in that ball are looking at a reflective ball with our world inside.<\/p>\n

As I like to say, for me, writing SF is a type of thought experiment.\u00a0 That\u2019s why Bruce calls me Professor.<\/p>\n

And by the way, I\u2019m Quube and Bruce is Lou.<\/p>\n

\u2014—————————–<\/p>\n

Bruce on \u201cThe Bottle Imps\u201d<\/h3>\n

What is \u201cBottle Imps\u201d really \u201cabout\u201d?\u00a0 I\u2019m inclined to think that it\u2019s about Californian housing problems, but it\u2019s also about wish fulfillment and profound new possibilities opening up wherever they are least expected.<\/p>\n

Also, the prose style has a beach-shack, sandy, garrulous looseness about it, which is the polar opposite of intensely-detailed cyberpunk \u201ccrammed prose.\u201d<\/p>\n

There\u2019s a sense of relief and release to it, like becoming uncorked. We don\u2019t have a lot of reasons to write stories like this, but also we lack reasons not to.<\/p>\n

\u2014—————————–<\/p>\n

“The Bottle Imps” is the newest story by Rudy Rucker and Bruce Sterling. Read all eleven of our tales in the 2nd edition of our anthology, Transreal Cyberpunk<\/em><\/a>. \u00a0 .<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This is new story by me and Bruce Sterling. It appeared on Boing Boing, on Halloween, 2026. And I added it to a new 2nd edition of our anthology, Transreal Cyberpunk, which went live the same day. And now I’m posting the story online, mixing in some photos and paintings that I have kicking around […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-14696","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14696","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14696"}],"version-history":[{"count":17,"href":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14696\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14712,"href":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14696\/revisions\/14712"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14696"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14696"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rudyrucker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14696"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}