Shock the Monkey, page 19
The city of B’Light was a glorious shining metropolis for all those who agreed it was. And those who didn’t buy into the communal lie? They wore the goggles anyway, to save themselves from despair and persecution.
“We pump the smell of flowers into the air to mask the worst of the odors,” the First Citizen explained as he walked through the wretched streets of B’Light with Sahara and Ogden. Ogden continued to hold a single lens to one eye so he could see both the real world and the augmented one at the same time.
“Incredible!” he said. “That fancy car is just a rusted hovercar up on blocks! And that waterfall is a broken pipe! And the dog that woman is walking is just a giant cockroach on a leash!”
Sahara was still having trouble wrapping her mind around all this. “But aren’t there other places you could live?” asked Sahara. “Another city?”
First Citizen Forlo scoffed at the suggestion. “As if it’s that easy,” he said. “I’ll wager that you’ve never known poverty, that you have the privilege of being from a planet with natural beauty, rich in resources. But this world? It has nothing of value to anyone.”
Sahara bristled at the idea that she came from a privileged planet. She considered herself sensitive to the struggles of others. Her parents had risen from poverty, and although they had given Sahara a better life, they made sure she never took it for granted. But to argue against the man’s point would just prove it.
“Every city, town, and settlement on this planet is the same,” Forlo explained. “Gray, downtrodden, and crumbling, without the resources to do anything about it. But at least in our city, we have the goggles.”
“That flower garden is just crabgrass!” exclaimed Ogden. “With actual crabs!”
“Ogden!” snapped Sahara. “Stop being impressed. It’s disrespectful!”
That made Forlo laugh. “What civilization doesn’t engage in window-dressing?”
“Yeah,” agreed Ogden. “It’s like capped teeth, or designer clothes, or tattoos, or even wearing makeup.”
“Precisely,” said Forlo. “The face we present to the world is never what we see in the mirror when we wake up. Why should a city be any different?”
But Sahara still couldn’t buy into an entire philosophy of self-deception. Perhaps things like makeup and body modification were their own forms of augmented reality, but there had to be limits. There had to be an objective reality.
“Instead of dressing up cockroaches and crabgrass, why not see the world for what it is and try to make it better?”
Now the man seemed offended. “Then perhaps you should be First Citizen. Maybe then you’ll see how difficult the task is!” He took a moment to regain his composure. “What you fail to realize is that this city—this entire planet—is the last stop. Not just for things that no one wants, but for people with no other place to go.”
They had reached a promontory—a hilltop that afforded a view all the way to the horizon. Between here and that distant horizon, there was nothing worth viewing at all. Just endless mounds of garbage.
“This world… it’s a wasteland void of indigenous life. Anything that had lived here has long since died. And anything that’s here now? It came from somewhere else. Including all of us.” He sighed. “This planet is a refuge for the worldless. When people have no other place to go, they wind up here.”
“Worldless…,” said Sahara. “You mean… homeless?”
Forlo nodded sadly. “A long time ago, I lost everything I had,” he confessed. “And now I’m here.”
Ogden took a look at the goggles in his hands. “If it were me, I’d augment like crazy,” he said. “I’d want to see butterflies instead of spiders.” He pushed one off his shoulder with a grimace.
“I wouldn’t,” said Sahara. “I’d force myself to see what was really there and get mad enough to do something about it.”
Then First Citizen Forlo smiled. “Which is exactly why you’re so important.”
Neither of them were expecting that. “Us?” said Sahara.
“As friends of the new landlord, you can convince her to spend just a fraction of her fortune to make this world livable.”
“Fortune?” said Sahara.
“Uh… what if she doesn’t have a fortune?” said Ogden.
At that, Forlo let off a hearty laugh. “Of course she does! She bought this star system, didn’t she? She must be wealthy beyond imagining!”
Ogden and Sahara exchanged a glance. Neither had the heart to explain. It was no wonder the planet had sold so cheaply. Ogden hadn’t just bought Claire the star system, he had saddled her with all of this world’s problems, too. This whole planet was a slum… and thanks to Ogden, Claire was the new slumlord.
PART 4
LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN
20
Murdrum, Birdrib, and Molévelom
ATTACKS IN INTERSTELLAR SPACE ARE NEVER RANDOM. FIRST OF all, the chance of even finding a ship in the vast void is far less than finding a needle in a haystack. It’s more like finding an invisible needle in a billion haystacks, where each of the haystacks is furious that you’re even looking and would rather die than part with that needle, which they may or may not be intentionally hiding from you. Plus, even for a space pirate, it’s a poor business model to hope an unsuspecting craft might actually contain something of real value.
For those reasons, attacks on interstellar crafts are always very directed, very intentional, and serve a very specific purpose. In the case of Virgo Galactic Flight 3553, the purpose of the attack was to capture a single individual on board. An individual with skills worth their weight in gold (or whatever metal one’s species considers precious).
The tumbling of Noah and Jad’s escape pod stopped abruptly. Then there were scraping and clanking sounds on the outside of the pod, making it clear that someone, or something, was trying to get the pod open. Noah and Jad, still awkwardly cozy inside the cocoon, tensed a bit at the sound. But the cocoon was hopeful.
“We’ve been found!” Kyle proclaimed. “We’re being rescued!”
Jad’s big bulbous Occuloid eye turned toward Noah. “What do you think?”
Noah, whose Occuloid skin was damaged enough to display both his shoulders now, shrugged. “Could be good, could be bad.”
The Fauxlite, who had been tumbling around the pod for quite a while, oozing bioluminescence everywhere, had just regained consciousness.
“I’m never flying this starline again,” he moaned. “And this time, I mean it.”
Noah found the seam on the cocoon and pulled it apart just as the escape pod’s hatch opened to dank humidity and a rancid smell. But even worse was the thing peering in the hatch. It was a horrific wide-mouthed blue creature. Even its teeth had teeth—in fact every one of its reptilian scales had its own mouth, and…
And wait a second, thought Noah, I know this abomination.…
“Murdrum?”
“There you are!” said the Fractillian Abysmal Beast. “Do you have any idea how many of these tin cans I had to open just to find you? And don’t think you can trick me with that Occuloid skin. I could smell you anywhere, Noah Prime!”
The battered Fauxlite took one look at the Fractillian Beast and crawled whimpering into the cocoon, apparently deciding that if he was to be eaten, he’d rather be eaten as a burrito.
Jad couldn’t stop staring at the creature’s gnashing scales. “Are we about to be eaten by all those little mouths?” Jad asked. “Or just the one big mouth?”
“Actually,” said Noah, “I don’t think we’re going to be eaten at all.”
As they stepped out of the pod, Noah could see they were in the shuttle bay of a large ship, its walls dripping with murky slime.
“Ever since I was rescued from Earth, I’ve been bragging to my friends about you,” Murdrum said. “They want to experience your magic hands for themselves.”
“Your hands are magic?” asked Jad.
“Long story,” Noah explained. “How did you even find me?” he asked the beast.
“Your sister put out a distress call! Free back rubs if we rescue you, she said. Worth a detour of a few hundred light-years. So, who’s your friend?” The beast sniffed but didn’t seem to recognize Jad’s smell.
“My name is Jadoon,” Jad said. “You’re a Fractillian Abysmal Beast, aren’t you? I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never met one before.”
“Not surprising,” said the Fractillian. “Few survive their first meeting with my kind. But any friend of Noah Prime’s is a friend of mine.” He turned to Noah. “So where’s your sister?”
Noah went back into the pod to retrieve the suitcase. Now the readout on Andi’s handle was flashing symbols too fast for Noah to decipher. And it occurred to him why she had gone silent. All this time she was putting every last bit of her energy into blasting out that distress signal.
“She don’t look too good,” said Murdrum.
“She… uh… took a bad fall,” Noah said. “We haven’t been able to get her open.”
“Hmm,” said the Fractillian. “Let me try.”
He studied the little singed suitcase from various angles, then set it on its edge, made a huge, heavy fist, and brought it down on the edge of the case like a sledgehammer.
Noah grimaced, imagining Andi shattering into a thousand pieces—but instead the suitcase popped open. All Andi’s gears and panels began to spin and revert, and in seconds she had transformed back into human form—although she looked almost as bad as the suitcase had. Tired and sooty and with the worst case of bed head Noah had ever seen.
“Finally!” said Andi to the beast. “Someone who knows what they’re doing!”
Noah was overjoyed to see her and couldn’t stop himself from throwing his arms around her, giving her a hug that she didn’t have the energy to squirm out of. “I thought we’d never get you back!” Noah said.
“You almost didn’t,” she said. “If I’d hit the atmosphere at a slightly steeper angle, I would have burned up on entry.”
“I’m glad you didn’t!”
“So am I,” said Andi. “Mostly.”
The Fractillian peered into the escape pod to see the Fauxlite cowering within the cocoon. And the cocoon was crying.
“Friends of yours?” Murdrum asked.
“The cocoon’s okay,” said Noah. “But the Fauxlite’s a jackass.”
“Maybe you could eat him,” Jad suggested.
“Nah,” said the beast. “Fauxlites are poisonous.” He shut the hatch. “We’ll send them back into space. They can be somebody else’s problem.” Then he led the way into the deep dark recesses of the slime-covered ship.
The Fractillian ship was a disorienting maze of unnecessary spirals that gave birth to even less necessary spirals. And no matter how deep you got, the more it felt you were in the exact same place you started.
Finally, one of the spiraling paths led them to what must have been the ship’s bridge, because it was manned (or more accurately “monstered”) by at least a dozen Abysmal Fractillian Beasts, all of whom looked similar, if not identical, to Murdrum. They were all busy, with their hands shoved into dark oozing holes in the ship’s wall—the kind of dark holes that every kid’s mother warned them not to stick their hand in.
As soon as the new arrivals entered, the crew stopped what they were doing and stared at Noah—although, to be honest, their faces looked the same from every angle, so they were, in a sense, already staring at him.
“This is the one I told you about,” Murdrum told his crew, gesturing to Noah.
Several of them stepped forward. Murdrum introduced Noah, Jad, and Andi to first officer Molévelom and chief engineer Birdrib.
“So this is the one with the magic fingers?” asked Molévelom, a bit dubious. “But he looks so soft and flavorful.”
“Yeah,” mumbled Birdrib, drooling. “An oozy rat in a sanitary zoo.”
Murdrum’s many mouths frowned. “Dammit, I’m mad! Anyone who tries to eat him will face my wrath! I tell you, he gives the best back massages in the known universe!”
Birdrib backed off, but Molévelom was still unconvinced. His many eyes narrowed into a plethora of glares. “Prove it,” he said to Noah.
So Noah pulled up some nice wolverine claws and smiled.
“Who wants to go first?”
After a dozen deep tissue massages, Noah was exhausted. His fingers hurt, and his talons had actually dulled. But the Fractillians were all in heaven—or whatever place Fractillians dreamed of going to when they died. If they died. Suddenly, Noah was everyone’s best friend. So much so that he worried they might not let him go.
“Come with us into the Abyss,” they said. “You’ll be rich! You’ll be popular! You’ll be loved by gazillions!”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Murdrum said, proudly. “The best in the universe.”
“Great,” grumbled Andi. “As if my brother’s head isn’t swollen enough.”
“So, will you take us where we need to go?” Noah asked Murdrum.
Andi gave the coordinates of the star system.
“That’s out of our way,” Murdrum said, “but a deal’s a deal. It’ll cost you a few more back rubs, but we’ll take you there.”
The Fractillians gave them a cabin that was less slimy than other areas of the ship. It was actually kind of comfortable, with a large view port. Andi powered down to conserve energy, leaving Jad and Noah alone.
“Noah, I just want to thank you for… for getting me to leave my home,” Jad said. “This is scary and all, but it’s exciting, too. Is it weird to say I kind of feel safe with you?”
Then Jad put that third hand gently on Noah’s head, not quite tousling his hair, but gently smoothing it. Noah already knew that this was how Jad’s species greeted each other, but there was tenderness to Jad’s touch that resonated. They were two different species, and yet they were two of a kind. In truth, Noah was more like Jad than anyone on Earth. If that didn’t make them siblings, nothing did.
“Tell me about your friends,” Jad said. “The ones we’re trying to find. What are they like?”
“Well… Sahara’s brave and kind and determined. She doesn’t settle for anything but the best in herself. She makes me want to do better. And Ogden… he’s smart and funny—although he doesn’t always mean to be. He finds amazing solutions to problems—but half the time he’s the one who created the problem.” Thinking about them made Noah wistful. Sort of homesick—but not for Earth. Because for Noah, Earth didn’t feel like home. But Ogden and Sahara did.
“I can’t wait to meet them,” said Jad with a smile.
“You’ll like them,” said Noah. “And I know they’ll like you.”
They fell asleep with the tops of their heads touching. That, too, was customary on Jad’s world.
“It’s been a long time since I had anyone to tap heads with,” Jad said just before dozing off. “Thank you, Noah.”
It was a custom Noah wished they had on Earth.
The planetary palace—which Claire was told was her new home—was old. Way old. And the places that weren’t too cold were way too warm, with no comfortable temperature in between. The polished stone floors were slippery, the staff was creepy, and bad smells wafted in from every direction. The view from Claire’s balcony made it clear why. In the distance, massive garbage ships arrived at all hours of the night and day, leaving behind who knew what. Biowaste, toxic waste, interstellar junk. According to Slash, the palace stood in the middle of a no-dump zone, but wind knew no such boundaries, carrying the stench of intergalactic waste in from every direction. And as if that wasn’t troubling enough, the Usurpers, most of whom were using unalive bodies of various shapes and species, stunk to high heaven. Slash promised to keep the worst of them away from Claire’s sensitive human nose, but it didn’t really help.
“My first official act will be to abolish zombies,” Claire proclaimed. “If your people are going to be body-snatchers, then have the decency to snatch the living.”
“The living fight back,” Slash pointed out, “making them much harder to control. Only the strongest of us, like me, are capable.”
“Well,” replied Claire, “if you can do it, then so can the others. Tell them to stop being so lazy.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Claire appreciated the fact that Slash rarely gave her much of an argument. Things were so much easier here than back home. Slash was paying Claire visits, even when he didn’t seem to have any business to attend to. And he smiled at her a lot as he regarded her, sometimes looking puppy-like in his attentions. She wondered how much of that was Slash and how much was Raymond. She found she didn’t mind the attention. Although she never had any interest in Raymond as a person, he somehow seemed more interesting—attractive even—as a snatched body. She supposed some people were like pieces of furniture. Even the most hideous chair could be stylish in the proper light, with the right throw pillows.
“Once I’m in control, I will immediately ban the dumping of garbage, too,” she proclaimed. “It’s gross. People will simply have to find another planet to put it on.”
“An excellent plan, Your Highness,” Slash agreed. “But more pressing is the decision on what we should call you.”
“What do you mean?”
“As the sole landholder in this system, you need a title. You could be queen. Or empress. Or sovereign supreme.”
Claire thought about it. “Queen” felt too pompous and self-important. “Empress” sounded like someone old and wrinkled. And “sovereign supreme” sounded like a fast-food item. She remembered hearing how Monaco had a crown prince. That sounded more her style.
“How about crown princess?”
