Fly On The Wall: Fairy Tales From A Misanthropic Universe, Vol. I Read online

  “Wait,” interjects Benjamin, rudely, “many others!?” Maebë is visibly annoyed by his interruption. “You have met our kind before?” he queries, wondering whether the answer was something which he truly wished to know.

  “Oh yes. Many. Were you not listening when I explained to you about Jules Verne? Did you not take heed of my very brief summation of our history?” Maebë is unimpressed. Benjamin blushes, his transgression discovered.

  For Benjamin the city had been far too mesmerizing, he had not even noticed the stares from the other creatures which walked the bejeweled lanes of the sparkling underworld. Each one turned to glare at him and Hugo as they walked passed. But after Maebë began to notice them she pulls one to the side for a quick word. Their language is strange, as though she speaks in two voices at once, one high pitched and one low. Benjamin knew, of course, having listened somewhat, that the creatures could not see, at least not as he or Hugo did. Benjamin scratches his chin, though they can not see their gazes had seemed to investigate his very soul.

  Maebë snarls when she noticed Benjamin trying to eavesdrop. She rapidly finishes her chat and the stares abate. The otherwise busy lane clears with an astonishing speed. Benjamin can feel something is amiss but Maebë just tells him their history once more. Now more briefly, and more tersely than before. With a tone of exasperation in her voice, she starts explaining the interactions their kind had had with the humans of the surface in more detail. She explains how their species had always been technologically superior. Not due to any inbuilt intelligence but rather from the fact that they had evolved long before the apes, and as a result of their barren environment, they adapted rapidly. Maebë explains that back in the ancient times there was very little down here. The humans could afford to bicker, their resources were plentiful, down in the cramped quarters of earth's center choosing competition over collaboration meant certain death. Maebë explains to them how they had aided the humans many times. The first time she can remember was when she had been a child. That was the first time they had attempted to introduce electricity to man. She recalls the day's events with such clarity as though it had happened only yesterday even though a great many years indeed has passed. She sees and recounts it all perfectly. She and her mother had traveled for weeks, at great personal peril, through the many layers of the earth. At that time they did not have the quick and safe transport options of today, so they found makeshift solutions to protect themselves from the heat and pressures which awaited them just a few miles above. They'd fashioned a crude diamond ship, one shaped like a human cigar. They had given it propulsion and set it on its way. The journey itself had not been too rough, the earth was in a calmer state then, but even so, the sights Maebë beheld on that journey were awe inspiring, even second hand. Great magma flows and rivers of plasma had swirled around their ship in a rabid, crushing dance. They took the trip twice, the first time to obtain a jar of sorts. They'd needed something to put their power into so that it would not be too conspicuous. They'd remained stealthy, fearing what might happen should they reveal themselves to the primitives. The quick to bicker humans were an unpredictable sort. They had no place to run, so to take the utmost care was vital. They'd obtained their receptacle and brought it home. Once back they filled it with the most basic, weakest form of power they still knew how to male: an iron rod, around it a sheath of copper, and over this they poured the juice of a lemon. That had been Maebë's main role, to steal a juicy lemon, a task most fit for a child, one who would likely not be punished if caught. “All this,” Maebë says, “my people put within the confines of that fragile jug. It was meant to give your ancestors a weak current, a starting point. That was the most we could do without someone figuring out the outside help. Those many years ago we brought that battery back up to Selik, and we left it there with one of its wise men. All in all our journeys back and forth took us six human months. The materials we left were strange to your primitive ancestors. They were too ignorant to see the true purpose. My mother and I had hoped your wise men would act, for we no longer could. We were by then both too far, too tired, and too frightened to do more. Any further acts would have rendered our external assistance quite obvious. In any case, your kind was not ready, all they gain – all they understood – from our gracious gesture was how to plate small things with gold. As if more shiny trinkets were what the often starving, and always warring glorified apes needed.”

  Benjamin's eyes spring open, his eyebrows bunch together too – frightened recognition. It surely could not be what he thought it was...those were myths...fables from a time long past, fables long since discredited too. Even if it was true, there was no way she could live that long. “You are not speaking of the Baghdad Batteries, surely?” Benjamin stares at Maebë demanding an answer with his eyes and looking as though he might spontaneously combust if it turned out to be the case.

  “Yes, yes, that is what your kind have called them for some time,” sighs Maebë, “at least you eventually figured it out. Even if you did give them an ugly, ugly name...”

  “But that would make you...” Gears whirred in Benjamin's head, working out Maebë's age.

  “Now I'm not sure about how life on the surface is like,” she interjects, suspending his words “but down in our neck of the woods you sure as heaven do not ask a lady, MUCH less a queen, her age.” Her words stop Benjamin in his tracks before he can finish rattling off more annoying questions. Sure, perhaps he is cute for a human. But he is dumber than the rocks we've built on. And rude too. Though I suppose that it can't be helped...he's only human. “Come,” she beckons, “pick up the pace.”

  They pass many sapphire windows, peering behind the blue shields they see great piles of wares, each more exotic and strange looking than the last. Some resemble overgrown insect eggs while others are great sculpted crystals, others still look like the antique gas driven cars of old. Opalescent holograms float in a window above them. They stare and try to lure the men in. Their smooth motions are hypnotic. Living, moving pictures, representations of her race which lure Benjamin and Hugo in with silent siren songs. Human minds were too weak to resist the beguiling underworld marketing.

  “COME!” Boomed Maebë, snapping the men out of their drooling catatonic state. Hugo & Benjamin will their feet forth with all their might so as to catch up to Maebë. They want to stop, to look around, to admire, but they can't. Her implorations are clear. They run behind her with care, afraid to trip on the jutting purple stones. Each footstep lands with a clack, and they soon catch up to the lightfooted impatient queen.

  “Where are you taking us?” Pants a tired Hugo.

  “To show y'all something.”

  Benjamin rolls his eyes, tired of Maebë's cryptic nature. They soon turn to face a topaz warehouse. Canary walls rise above and change the multicolored light even further. A beam bounces straight into Hugo's eye, making him see, in a single moment, the orange of a thousand autumns. Its sparkle blinds the two men, whose arms now crane out in surreal shading salutes. Maebë leads them on to two large panels, their outlines trace black shadows on the immense topaz face. The men approach the panels which promptly slide into the ground, hidden from sight. At least some things are similar. Benjamin and Hugo share comforted glances in the face of such familiarity. Endless rows stretch out in front of them, a veritable orchard of produce, wherein laden shelves, like the pregnant boughs of autumn apple trees, each bend and bow under the weight of the fruit they bear. Maebë presses on, she leads them through the great tract of trade. The store's customers act much the same as the city's residents had, briefly staring then disappearing after inspecting the men with forceful glares.

  “This is where we buy our food, and pretty much everythin' else we want or need,” explains Maebë.

  The men exchange quizzical glances, they feel woozy but know not why. Both suspect their recent meal is to blame. It is clear from their bewildered expressions that neither Hugo nor Benjamin know why Maebë brought them there.

  Food I say, mo
re food! We must gorge ourselves on the delight of this world. The bright topaz mesmerizes Benjamin, and though they have recently eaten Benjamin feels the pangs and thoughts of hunger strike again.

  Maebë smiles mischievously, tilting her head forward, almost as if she is trying to hide a secret beneath her very chin. “Yeah, we can grab some more for y'all to eat, don't you worry.”

  Benjamin jumps, alarmed, he had not vocalized his desire to eat, yet somehow she knew. He does not question it for too long though, Benjamin can not think well while she remains in his view. Her mannerisms enchant him, he can think no ill towards her. He can impute to her no evil, no mischief, nor self-interest.

  Maebë is pleased, The humans they send are so terse normally, strange men in patchy green outfits who inspect her kingdom. These were much nicer. The others are even ruder than these men, and they rarely pay her such piety. These ones do, even if they aren't very bright Maebë can tell that she will bond well with them. Maebë conceals a fledgling smile in her mind, she finds it cute how easily distracted they are by the buildings, by her, by anything other than that which is actually important. The humans always did maintain a list for shiny trinkets. Maebë taps her index against her thumb contemplatively. Maybe just this once she'll let them stay.

  Only a handful had ever made it as far as Hugo & Benjamin, and none of them had been as calm or friendly. A chill crawls down Maebë's spine as she recalls agonized looks of infinite sorrow, which arise with resignation to a death unknown, and unmourned, thousands of miles below the surface. They had tried to end her though and so she'd had no choice. She always tried to greet them gently, yet each time they attacked. Knives, guns, bows, even gasses, all lame attempts to end her rule. She could have none of it, no interference from the surface dwellers. She'd given them choices, yet they'd refused. Their deaths, though tragic, served them right. The leaders learned soon enough.

  Finally, they are in the right aisle. She reaches out and grab a box labeled 'Soylent Green'. A picture of a great strongman, as big as the biggest bodybuilder they'd ever seen jeered at them from the box's face with a fork sticking out of his back. Next to the box's shelf were other Soylent colors: red, yellow, purple. Hugo begins to dry heave, appalled at the thought. Benjamin meanwhile loses control, he grabs Maebë by her sleek shoulders and holds her firmly in front of him.

  “YOU'RE A BARBARIAN, A SAVAGE!” his words come with such force that Maebë's hair flutters slightly.

  Maebë snarls and bares a mouth of spiky sharp teeth. She digs her claws into Benjamin's arms, drawing blood, and moderating his grip. Benjamin lets go of her and yelps. Maebë laughs. “Don't you worry sugar plum,” her tone is tense, aggravated, and condescending, “ain't no human in Soylent, we just have a sense of humor.”

  Benjamin recoils horrified and embarrassed by his own actions. Hugo meanwhile regains composure. “How many of you are there?” asks Hugo directly just as his heaves desist.

  “Oh, well I reckon there's about a billion or so. Compared to humans we really ain't spread as much. We can't. Our population levels have to be kept strictly sustainable. While y'all just up and get stuff from elsewhere when you run out, we ain't never had that luxury. We ain't got no fancy mining colonies. No habitats. No buckyballs. But by gosh I'd say we're doing alright. We could have flown away, but we never did, and every foray to the surface world ends poorly; we are content with our situation.”

  Hugo's eyes scan a framed panel, various triangles are inscribed thereupon. They each seem quite different from the others, a form of script no doubt. Some have rounded corners, others are sharp, others still look broken in two, or three, some are half shaded, others are not. “Maebë, is this your peoples' writing? It is beautiful. Please show me how to read it, that I might learn your ways, my Queen.” Hugo's voice wobbles on the final words. Maebë grins, satisfied with her effect on the man. Hugo looks taken aback at his own words, and Maebë can tell. She reaches out and brings his hand up in hers, placing it on the triangles. She rests her hand on top of his and softly whispers a single word to him.

  “Soon.”

  Benjamin watches on, worried and weary of the underworld witch which seems to unravel Hugo's senses.

  Maebë gives Benjamin a confused look, she doesn't understand what hi problem is. They knew she always does this to one of them, it isn't like she has many other ways to have fun down here. She could at least have fun with the inspectors. Only then does it dawn on her that these humans might not be inspectors at all. They might be completely unauthorized. It is unlikely, and she isn't sure if the technology to do so is even within reach for any non-governmental actors of their race. But if not inspectors who are these trespassers? All the other visitors had been approved, had been briefed, had been selected. Maebë assumed they'd simply forgot to inform her, but no, this is much worse. The rulers had not vetted these two. That much she could see firsthand. This is bad. She made a mistake bringing them thus far even. They are not meant to see and indeed are not ready to see that which she had been about to show them. Maebë bites her cherry red lip, causing her teeth's sharp points to sink in and release a mauve trickle. She ponders what to do as she wipes the blood away.

  Their supermarket was spectacular, Hugo never saw anything like it before. Benjamin could tell just from his expression. Benjamin looks around, the shelves, much like those on the surface, were made of renewable plastic; a material which had been invented on earth at the turn of the last century. Benjamin furrows his brow and turns to Maebë, “How do you have this materi-”

  “We invented it. How did you think you have it?” Always on the ball, Maebë was not one to let a question go unanswered, even before its conclusion.

  On the shelves, there are so many goods that the men wonder how they do not sag. Their own renewable plastics were not yet so strong, not yet so sturdy. How too can they obtain so many things this far down? That question troubles the men the most for some shelves even brandish well-known surface brands. The threesome keep walking through the topaz warehouse, stopping only to sample some of Maebë's favorite treats, while she secretly ponders her next moves in the perilous game unfolding around her. Soon they reach the meat section where Benjamin notices only one type of packaged flesh: 'Squal', or so claim red latin letters stenciled on equally bright baby blue cellophane sealed packages. Benjamin finds this strange, and Hugo's twisted brow suggests that he does too. Yet both men shrug off their doubts, they consider that the center-dwellers had indeed had previous contact with humans, perhaps they obtained a loan word and goods licensing too somehow. Benjamin figures the name must come from 'Squab', the only other meat he could imagine their kind being able to keep or grow in their bizarre world below. He wonders if they have any meats other than Squal. If they don't...well then Benjamin sees all too readily an opportunity. Benjamin salivates at the thought of importing low cost, low-quality surface meats and selling them as exotic specialties. Both Hugo and Benjamin rub their eyes, tears clutter their vision. Light though there was, it was through a kaleidoscope, and the manifold colors finally begin to take their toll on the men.

  Hugo looks around as they continue down the street, having left the store behind. The Soylent Green samples had been delicious. He maintains some apprehensions regarding the name while eating it, for the trope had long cemented itself in surface culture, but the crunchy texture, portability, and umami flavor reminded him of a cross between chips, graham wafers, and digestives. He'd munched his way through one wafer, then another, and another, all while. Now though they walk and Hugo's head turns each and every way, trying to take in all sights. Trying to take in the pictured of the towering blocks of agate, of malachite, and tourmaline. They are so beautiful that he almost feels sad for Maebë and her kind being unable to experience it in their manner. Hugo knows they could experience it otherwise, but he also knows his way is best.

  “It's nearly time to cull the Squal,” chimes Maebë, “it isn't something we are proud of, but survival comes first, and turning it into
a ritual does help to pass the time down here. But that's far too much for y'all at the moment anyway. For now, I want both of you to grab a hand and follow me to my chambers. There I'll show y'all and tell y'all more about my people. Oh, and, I'm sure you'll understand, as queen I have certain duties to attend to. Until I am free you shall wait for me. You are not free to move at will and will be confined, I'm sure you dears understand our need for security though.”

  Each man grabs an outstretched hand, they are strange, her skin is smooth, yet hard like obsidian. Her nails are long, they twinkle a soft periwinkle blue. They both hold on tight, wondering what zany thing would happen next.

  “Don't look down.” says Maebë, and sure enough they do. In that moment the purple stones beneath them darken and a triangle of pitch black darkness forms around their feet. Neither man dares flee, Maebë's grasp holds them petrified in place. Neither man dares show weakness, neither dares breach their unspoken contract. The ground turns black, and then is no more. They fall with a whoosh and a yelp, they slide down a well-polished wall, an enormous slide of sorts. Maebë is perfectly calm throughout, she does not move a single muscle, in fact, she barely breathes at all, for her this is no more than a routine commute. “Don't worry she shouts as they hurtle downwards, ever faster through an immense network of tunnels, downwards, deeper into the core. The two men may be strong, they may be big, but the tunnel system is not designed for men at all, and so it exerts a great pressure on their bodies. They take the corners at such immense speed that both Hugo and Benjamin first seebright stars more colorful than even her world, and then see nothing at all, rendered unconscious by the force. So fragile, yet so dangerous, muses Maebë, calmly observing the men as they fall through the darkness. She supposes it is fortunate that they lost consciousness, this way they will not be able to wander off while she sees to her functions; while she speaks with their people. Though the tunnels are dark Maebë sees well. Rainbow walls protect them on their descent and countless colors rush by. Maebë wonders if she'll have time for a small meal once back before the meeting is to begin. She feels famished after trotting the two through the city. Maebë always loved the tortuous chutes, they always give her quite a thrill. The chutes suddenly turn up along a long slope, the trio slow as they whizz through it. They crest the hill and slide down a gentler slope on the other side. Just ahead the tunnel ends abruptly in a pile of poufs. Maebë beckons for some servants to remove the slumbering men and take them to they quarters. Four appear to ferry the two unmoving visitors.