Greegs & Ladders Page 13

  “Ok. Let's get out of here,” said Rip. “You heard the books informative yet anonymous voice from two thousand years ago telling us not to go near them.”

  “Actually,” began Wilx, “Very Rare Planets is even older than that. The first known publication was sometime before--”

  “They look like the puke of a Galactic Gobbling Groobin,” interrupted Rip.

  “No they don’t,” I said. “They look like the guts of a Colossal Snorkling Plitzer!”

  “No,” challenged Rip. “They look like evolution’s cutting room floor.”

  Grollers did not end up on evolution’s cutting room floor. They made the final cut. You might think a Groller is ridiculously unsuited to live on a waterworld because they’re not originally from a waterworld, having possibly re-colonized to the wrong planet. This is not the case. Hroon is the only planet that Grollers have ever existed on. It is simply a case of evolution severely fucking up.

  “Prepare the floating elevator.”

  “And don’t forget the remote control this time,” I said.

  “Way ahead of you,” said Wilx as he patted his jacket pocket, which contained ample spare remotes. “It is a new rule never to leave the ship without ample spare remotes for the floating elevator. We’ve gotten in a lot of trouble from continuing to forget this thing.”

  Grollers always evoke a strong reaction in visitors. Many people wish that someone would get the whole business over with by dropping a bomb on the lot of them. Others wish that someone would transport them to a planet where they belong. Most are against this last idea, not wanting to risk their own planet being the future home of Grollers.

  “Ugh. Just look at them,” I said.

  “Don’t forgot that you’re a Greeg,” said Wilx. “You’re barely less hideous than those things.”

  “Do you think they can talk?” I asked, ignoring the comment.

  The floating elevator touched down on the island. The Grollers were noticeably scared of the new technology. They hopped and rolled their way to the opposite edge of the rocks. A few remained nearby.

  “Look,” I said, pointing to the close Grollers, “Some of them are brave and want to examine us.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Wilx, inspecting the nearby bodies. “They aren’t moving. I think they were killed by the fire propulsion of the floating elevator.”

  “Oh.”

  Rip promptly rolled the dead Grollers into the water, so as to not upset the rest of the herd. A carnivorous fish-monster promptly ate them and was delightedly surprised by the random introduction of cooked Groller meat as opposed to the usual raw. It was a delicacy the fish-monster had never been treated to. No one else in history had ever accidentally fried a group of Grollers with the propulsion of a floating elevator and then rolled their bodies into the ocean.

  “Not the best way to say hello,” said Wilx.

  “Just look at them,” I repeated.

  “Indeed.”

  All three of us were thoroughly brought down by the sad scene of the Grollers.

  “Can any of you talk?” shouted Rip. “HELLO?”

  Not one sound emanated from the creatures. Not even a slur of gibberish or a brief bout of nonsensical shrieking. Total silence.

  “They can’t talk. Let’s go,” said Rip.

  Wilx threw up over the edge of the rocks. “You’re right. We can’t learn anything from these primitive beasts.”

  “Why did you throw up just now?”

  “Maybe seasickness. Maybe the horrible sight of those creatures, or a combination of the two. Probably just the creatures though.”

  “I’m cueing the elevator.”

  As we were about to climb onto the elevator I happened to glance behind me and take one last look at the Grollers. I could just as easily have not taken this last glance. Sometimes I laugh about how much can change during the millisecond of a trivial decision.

  Of all the Grollers overpopulating this island, one of them in particular was special. Kog shall be his name. Kog was not smarter than the other Grollers. He was not the next link in their evolution. What made Kog special was the fact that he had something in his possession. It was the only object on the entire island, and it was hidden away so that no one else could see it. If any of the other Grollers were to have anything in their possession they would immediately try to eat it.

  “Hey!” I shouted at Rip and Wilx. “Look at that one over there!”

  “Where? They all look the same.”

  “Right there to the left! Do you see it?”

  “No.”

  “One of them is motioning to us!”

  Rip and Wilx looked around the terrain until they spotted Kog. He was waving for us to come closer.

  “I don’t like it,” said Rip. “Could be a trap.”

  “But it’s a sign of intelligence! Maybe that one has learned how to communicate.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “We should at least try to talk to it.”

  “You go over and chat with the monsters. We’ll stay on the elevator in preparation for rapid departure. If these beasts turn on you, don’t count on us waiting around to collect your body.”

  “Ok.”

  So Rip and Wilx (in their occasional cowardly fashion) remained on the floating elevator as I carefully ambled my way towards Kog. I could see that he was now pointing at the rocky floor.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Kog continued to point at the rocks.

  “It’s just more rocks. What are you pointing at?”

  In a fit of impatience, Kog stood on his leg and attempted to jump up and down like a child. He quickly fell over, bruising his face and scraping his arm. He angrily thrashed about, apparently having just discovered for the first time that he only had one leg and one arm. Grollers have no memory at all. Kog was the only living Groller who had any sort of remembered knowledge, and it was merely the location of the hidden object.

  It was at this moment that most of the Grollers became aware that I was food. They began to hop and roll their way towards me. Luckily they were slow and zombie-like, but given the lack of space it was only a matter of minutes before they closed in on me.

  “Listen, you mutant! What are you pointing at?!” I screamed at Kog.

  The sudden loudness of my outburst shook Kog into an awakened state of purpose. He had never felt more alive.

  Kog pushed and kicked away the loose pile of rocks he'd been pointing at. Buried underneath was a book. It looked very old and tattered.

  “Thank you,” I said as I grabbed the book. I raced for the floating elevator.

  Obotron 1 flew away from Hroon. Just one fleet ship now followed behind us (the other one resting at the bottom of the Hroonian Ocean, for those of you who have the memory of a Groller). I could not wait to peruse this mysterious artifact.

  The book had washed up on the island many thousands of years ago. The archaic and brittle tree-fibre pages had survived the ocean by having been rolled up and contained within an airtight canister. This canister was likely the first ever 'message in a bottle' in universal history. The ancient Groller who found the book somehow instinctively knew that it must be kept a secret, so he buried it in the rocks. In his short lifetime he showed it to only one other Groller, this being the Groller who would in turn be the next guardian of the book. This cycle continued down the ages, so that per generation there was always only one Groller who knew the secret. None of the guardians were curious enough to open the pages or to even wonder about the book. They merely kept it safe. This remarkable event reached its culmination with Kog. For whatever reason, Kog knew the book was meant to be given to me.

  It is now my belief that the purpose of the Groller species, the complete reason for their very evolution, was to make sure that this object made its way into my possession.

  CHAPTER 31

  The Journal

  “What were you doing back there?” said Rip. “You know how hungry those creatures were?”

 
“It was worth it,” I said. “Look at this. They were hiding some type of old book. Who knows what important information it contains.”

  “Another book?” asked Rip concernedly. “Last time you read a book to us we got in a lot of trouble. Remember?”

  “I haven’t had time to forget. Last time I read a book to you was a copy of Very Rare Planets, and that was when we decided to visit Hroon. So only seconds ago did we finish getting in the trouble that occurred from the last time I read a book to you.”

  “Exactly. I think we could use a break before you start unleashing more trouble from out of whatever other hexed books you continuously find lying around.”

  “I concur,” said Wilx. “Take that book to your room if you want to read it. We’ll be in here purging our minds of cursed knowledge by way of a few Crammington Krish Fortinis.”

  “We still have some of those?” said Rip elatedly.

  I retired to my room, leaving the two well-seasoned travellers of space and time to their self-destructive methods of transcendental meditation.

  I carefully opened the book, making sure not to crack its weather-worn pages. I immediately saw from the dated entries that it was a personal journal of sorts.

  But who wrote it?

  And where?

  1st ENTRY – DATE: 337/51 – LOCATION: Mother Ship, Yoloron Galaxy

  My name is Jorf. I just moved to the up and coming Yoloron Galaxy. Today I started a new job. I am an Intergalactic Specimen Collector. It is my duty to obtain any and all sorts of life forms from whatever planet I come across. The spaceship I have been equipped with may be old and rickety, but it has all the right environmental housing facilities for storing any type of species. My first assignment is to visit a nearby largish meteor that has taken up orbit around a new sun. We are to decide if the meteor is showing any tendencies of becoming a planet, i.e.: whether or not life is sprouting up on this barren wasteland. It sounds dull, and I don’t expect to find anything. Just the sort of job they give to someone on their first day.

  I wasn’t entirely interested in this Jorf character, but I recognized the name Yoloron as having been the ancient name for what humans would later call the Milky Way Galaxy.

  2nd ENTRY – DATE: 337/52 – LOCATION: Mother Ship, Orbiting Meteor

  Today our ship arrived at the meteor/planet. According to the papers back home, this new addition to our galaxy has been named ‘Earth,’ a word from the Hindrian language meaning ‘unsightly, misshapen barren wasteland.’ I actually thought the name sounded good, and figured it was a shame to have such a negative meaning attached to it. But no other description is as appropriate for Earth. It is simply an uninhabited meteor. I have no idea why we’ve been sent here.

  3rd ENTRY – DATE: 337/53 – LOCATION: Surface of Earth

  We have set up a camp base on the surface of the meteor. We are to stay here for a Yoloron week to thoroughly make sure there are no signs of life. Everything is freezing cold. A week here will probably feel more like a month.

  5th ENTRY – DATE 337/55 – LOCATION: Surface of Earth

  There is not much to do here. I have mostly been experimenting with the liquor supply by mixing all sorts of random alcohols together, hoping for some type of favorable concoction. Only one drink has so far tasted decent. I have decided to call it a ‘Crammington Krish Fortini,’ named after my great friend and mentor Crammington Krish Fortini. Working a job is most difficult after drinking a few CKF’s, as the effects of this new beverage are staggeringly strong.

  6th ENTRY – DATE: 337/56 – LOCATION: Surface of Earth

  Today was our fourth night on Earth. I’ve been trying to keep myself busy analyzing ground samples. There appears to be no cellular activity on this entire rock. There isn’t even the trace of an atmosphere. We have sent burrowing pod-bots to the core, to check for any heat emission that might later provide fertile ground for life. Negative readings across the board. You can tell that the rest of the crew has taken a liking to my new drink by the drastic drop in work productivity. One of the robot technicians even thinks the CKF might be a big hit at the local bars.

  9th ENTRY – DATE: 337/59 – LOCATION: Mother Ship, Orbiting Earth

  Today we left Earth. Our ship is chartered for home and I could not be happier.

  10th ENTRY – DATE: 337/60 – LOCATION: Mother Ship

  Something terrible has happened. It seems a cooler full of life-samples has been forgotten on the surface of Earth. We have been ordered to turn our ship around for a Retrieval Mission. Personally I don’t see the problem with the loss of one cooler.

  11th ENTRY – DATE 337/61 – LOCATION: Mother Ship

  This cooler is a big deal! Everyone calls it The Ultimate Kit. It is apparently a well-rounded collection of the most varied forms of life from across the farthest stretches of the universe. I have been told the cooler is the ‘Ark of All Alien Life.’ It also contains a very rare planetary starter kit, including Instant-Ocean packets and ultra rare Bottled-Atmosphere.

  12th ENTRY – DATE 337/61 – LOCATION: Surface of Earth

  We are now back at Earth. The camp base was reconstructed. A search party was immediately sent out to scour the crater-laden surface for the cooler. I have yet to be accused, but I now remember clearly that I was the one who lost the cooler. Punishment is said to be severe. I hope everyone understands it was a mistake, and that anyone would have forgotten the cooler if they’d been gallivanting around a pitch dark meteor while sloshed on half a dozen CKFs.

  14th ENTRY – DATE: 337/63 – LOCATION: Mother Ship

  After two days of searching the entire surface of Earth, we have concluded that the cooler is no longer here, or was never here in the first place. I’ve decided to retire from the specimen collecting business and continue a relaxing career with my experimental drink-making adventures.

  I decided to skip the next few pages, noticing they were merely a mad inventors’ plans for selling ill-conceived, deadly drinks. After a few weeks the entries were suddenly being written from prison.

  44th ENTRY – DATE: 337/93 – LOCATION: Grogol Prison Detention

  I have been convicted of the heinous crime of ‘Unwanted Planet Creation.’ Apparently there were more than 17 witnesses who claimed I brazenly and drunkenly dumped out the contents of the cooler. While I cannot deny these claims, nor deny that there were indeed witnesses all around me, I still suspect my team members of ratting me out for the sole reason of wishing to steal my invention of the Crammington Krish Fortini, a drink that in one monthhas become so popular it’s being quoted as ‘the New Water.’ The robot technician George was especially interested in seeing the list of ingredients for the CKF. The CKF is not my only invention to have recently taken off. The media is saying that in the last month Earth has quadrupled in size, as well as having formed an atmosphere, an ocean and a rainforest. There is no question that Earth is rapidly evolving into a full-fledged planet. As for life-forms, evolution passed through the amoebic stage within the first week, and now there are sightings of strange and tiny wriggly creatures crawling from out of the ocean. The unexpected planet has been deemed superfluous and/or a threat to the galaxy. I do not know what will happen to me. All I know is that I’ve been allowed to keep my journal and that a piece of its blank paper is the best meal I’ve had in weeks.

  I could see the ripped edge of the page that Jorf had torn out and eaten.

  I ran down the corridor to tell Rip and Wilx the news. They were coincidentally drunk on Crammington Krish Fortinis. Or not a coincidence, depending on how synchronized you believe the universe to be.

  “How’s the reading going?” asked Rip. “Learning new things that will endanger our lives?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Yoloron Galaxy?”

  “The Yoloron Galaxy?” asked Wilx, snapping alive as if instantly made sober by the mention of the words. “That sounds familiar.”

  “It’s the exact same Galaxy we’re in right now. Humans called it the Milky Way.”

  “Wha
t are you talking about?” asked Rip.

  “The book I got on Hroon, it’s an old journal by an intergalactic specimen-collector. He details the events in which he visits Earth while it was still a lifeless meteor.”

  “What’s Earth?” asked Rip.

  “You know that planet you just dumped me on for thousands of years? The planet you forever altered when you introduced a diabolically inter-spliced species of investment bankers? That’s Earth.”

  “Oh, yeah. Earth. But it isn’t really Earth anymore, is it?”

  “No. It’s the Planetglomerate.”

  “Had you reached the point yet?” asked Rip.

  “This guy, the specimen collector, he spilled a cooler full of alien life samples on the surface of Earth. All the various seeds/cells/fungi from the cooler quickly evolved and spread, becoming the reason Earth turned into a planet. The cooler was an intergalactic Ark of all alien life. This explains the randomness and crowded diversity of life on Earth. After all, what sort of sane and naturally evolved planet has dozens of millions of different species?”

  “But what is the relevance?”

  “If this had never happened, Rip wouldn’t have had a planet in which to introduce his inter-spliced bankers. And it was the inter-spliced bankers who turned into Greegs after the creation of the Planetglomerate.”

  “What?”

  “Because of this journal, the evolutionary path of the human/Greeg can now be traced back to the actions of one oblivious dope who didn’t care about keeping his job.”

  “How did the journal end up on Hroon?”

  “I don’t know that yet.”

  “Unusual place for a journal to be.”