Priya Echo's Adventure - Part 11

CHAPTER 39 - LEFFEL AND PRIYA AT THE PARK

“What is this big contraption?” Echo wondered. It seemed to have all sorts of bells and whistles, different components operating sequentially. Larry Territorial-Matrix, the youth academy teacher who had brought his class to the park that day, smiled at the incidence of such a clear question. Or perhaps, giving her the benefit of the doubt, and to be rightly impartial, it could have been that it was just his own disposition, wearing two sweaters on a warm day. Simultaneously, each of the students, who had reasonably only worn one sweater gawked as well at the moving parts of the varied framework, although they had built it from scratch themselves in teams of four. “It’s called a Rube Goldberg machine, really it just does one simple job, but the way it does so is complicated,” Larry explained, motioning to the see-saw which had just been lowered. “This is bonkers. You’re just fiddling with things. Why does there have to be such a long string of events?” Echo reacted to the novel, innovative titillation of her intellect. “I’m teaching them about machines so they’ll learn to build them as well. As you know most spell-engines today have their basis in pre-realm machines” Larry countered, drawing a nod of acknowledgment from the eavesdropping patron. “Ah, I get it now” she multitasked, as her eyes followed the course of dominos falling effortlessly along a track. Bantering further about the current semester of the school year, the time flew. And for the record, conversation has no effect on the rate of it, however precarious the topic. From the jogging path came a new arrival, striding closer by tapping a long walking stick along the ground. Preoccupied, they barely recognized the approach. “Grandmother, I received your telegram. I can show you around on our walk. it’s a circle so we will loop around” Leffel submitted, reluctantly pleased to see her in a jovial mood. For the children he waved his hand, stripping a plump apple tree of its contents, and covered them in rock candy. Thanking Larry, she made for the jogging path, curious as to the purpose of the walking stick, which she deduced was most likely brought simply for show. Echo stayed silent on the matter, feigning disinterest, as other avenues of repartee unfolded. An ember of guilt remained at the back of her throat until dissolving completely. Being taxed by official duties, she had little spare time for each portion’s attractions, even that which Leffel had designed and executed himself. Treading the loop would bring them around the Park Concentric, through the surrounding One Twelfth Month Park but not touch the Ordinary Month Park at the heart of it, a place lined with benches where Leffel awoke as the Eleven-Twelfths Month. “Did you want to show me around?” she began, joining arms as they pushed into the sprawling common, a place where quirks of nature outnumbered people “Yes, you’ll really get to witness the inversion and see how animals have adapted. Jeobeu Bouit loves it, she jogs along this path every morning before returning to metacoma” Leffel offered, sharing a personal tidbit discreetly whilst people hurried by on their afternoon exercise. “The system colonies are scrambling with us for territory, you wouldn’t imagine what dirty tricks they have done to gain land grants on the worlds we founded” Echo bemoaned, watching a line of ants wait patiently in line for a plastic slide, then climb up the ladder, rushing down. “Eventually we are going to need a better way to deal with them. Right now, I have my personal mausoleum, “The Burden of Propagation” that can be put into profit to extend terraforming services to the system colonies. Dylan Arch is a fine captain, so he can usher Hioane Wep and Ramb Unba to perform the duty” Leffel advocated. “He is doing this in part to lord it over Honeycomb Man, but I will accept it” Echo thought, nodding her head, “I was going to ask you earlier, thank you”. “Be careful of the pace at which you do so, grandmother. Terraforming of our colonies by Chamberification has variable effects. Did you read the report by the office of home hopping? That whole thing was cooked. Most of the environments of the colonies have fought terraforming efforts to a greater extent than you realize. As a result, energy constructs have invaded the sublime landscape, causing the partition of sky-islands. The faster we push this, the more it will weaken the metacoma, just remember that '' he suggested, burrowing his way into the political mechanics that ran her continual perception. “Having both of them is gratuitous, you can send a Caterpillar of Ramb Unba in his stead” Echo agreed. Leffel had to thrust out his walking stick in front of his grandmother’s feet so they could step around an innocuous circle of frisbee poop that an abridomiah morin carela had deployed along the path. On a nearby patch of grass it pursed its lips disappointedly, then wobbled its hippo-like girth and fat stubby legs. Concerning the poop, It was visually identical to a frisbee in every respect except consistency. Whereas ordinarily the distinction between seasons is abrasive, especially in the pre-realm years, that of the park where not blended … but sprinkled together in different proportions in different locales. In retrospect the past may have been a simpler time. But those that cling to it cannot appreciate the precious fraction of one-twelfth month. Echo looked to the south where there was a lengthy structure enveloped by bonsai trees, a steam-house from which locals emerged, bath-robes hugging their bodies. They sat on the ends of the square pots of the big bonsai trees and drank from mugs of hot-cocoa, in mid-conversation until ultimately their robes dispersed as snow again, returning to a cloud that showered them on the other end for the newcomers. Nilon, one of the chubbier cases of rat-people stirred his mug with his tail, then continued on about how he had settled out of court for a case involving slander claims of who in fact carried the black plague. The jury had been so confused as to whether humans or his people were to blame. The whole thing, of course, had been a farce. There were also robes from fresh snow on the ground. Bath robes white like fleece hidden like gems in the parkland. Habits of the local flora and fauna were unmistakable in their complementary grace, in a way that spelled déjà vu to those of old, yet in different guises. Along a stretch of trail that had fallen leaves a grouplet of trunks slowly ambled with dumb roots like babies learning to walk. Then up ahead, where the ripeness of the grass was more coherent there wobbled along giddy tinker toy robots that would grab with its little claw one of the cracked nuts on the ground. Five weeks later after snacking on so many, they could reconfigure into metal birds with beaks like toucans. Every so often the insects, hardier than their antecedents came in groups to the elm, the former of which had grown much taller with less foliage, where cicada shells still cling, offering bunches of flowers that conformed to grow in the recess. Happily, they slurped up nectar, thereafter rubbing their abdomen against certain parts of the tree in appreciation. Larval flowers are also prized by many for amulet class spells. “Grandma, take a look at the woody area over here. After the seasons changed, a lineage of the white oaks, which was used to make barrels for wine-making, adapted. Since then they have been renamed Three Barrel Trees, due to a lifecycle that relies on the container” Leffel directed, aiming his hand at a full-grown oak, “this one isn’t doing anything, let’s keep moving”. Further down the road a cluster of trees shrunk themselves down so they could fit into wooden barrels, flipping themselves head-first so their canopy was at the bottom. Over the mouth the massy dome of roots and dirt sealed up the container. Acting like flippers the staves paddled, bearing it aloft, and the two of them watched the barrels fly about, dropping tubers at various locations for the critters below. “Now see where they go '' Leffel said, excitedly squeezing her shoulder. Fighting the winds, one of the more well-rounded barrels swam upwards to a family of low-hanging clouds. In a rather quick dramatic motion the closed end of the barrel unsealed itself, sucking up a portion of the mist, expelling the tree. Halfway to the ground the oak flipped over and formed a makeshift parachute with its root system, softly returning to a humble patch of grass. “Pretty good acrobats' ' Echo admired, clapping. Learning of a nearby barrel, the oak shook itself from the brief reprieve, crawling inside. Roused, the spot became damp. Moss and grass spread across the wood of the barrel, forming a mantle. Entirely clad, it sank into the earth. “I can sense where it’s burrowing, follow me, '' Leffel tugged, leaving the path behind. It surfaced in a clearing, enticing the animals to pluck off the green shrouded staves, collecting them and revealing it to be empty, for at a certain point during the burrow the tree decided to stay underground. Echo watched a teal jackal sloth carry one of the pieces on its shoulder to a suitable spot. Tucking it into a shallow plot, the article blossomed, producing flowers and vegetables and fruits which other scampering onlookers came to benefit from. Hares seemed to be especially fond of a certain petal from a creamy peach colored flower. Thereafter the wood became supple from so much blossoming and the jackal sprinkled bits of dirt into the cavities for it to continue its production. From earlier, the barrel that was stuffed with clouds drifted to the ground. White feathery rhizome creeping rootstocks located it, tapping the base. “Don’t blink, this is my favorite'' Leffel promised, then just as before when a singular motion had ejected the tree, the burrowing oak returned to the vessel, pushing out a puff of cloud from the top, sculpted into the perfect shape of a barrel that shot out, bobbing to the sky and engulfed by the underbelly of a more faint-hearted sibling. Closing her eyes, Echo could sense the barrel dissipate in the body of its brother. Gradually the tree incorporated the circle of staves, growing to its original height. “Seeds pooped out by the animals from the stave fruit will grow into replacement barrels' ' Leffel assured her. “What happens next? I thought you said there were three?” the elder inquired curiously. He turned around to make way back to the park trail spontaneously flashing the autumnal waters of his body, disregarding what had captivated them with instinctive novelty, “At this point the oak is sexually mature and grows a barrel with a leaf inside that will detach and find a suitable location, but we can’t stand here and wait another two weeks''. Crossing the length of a pond, they watched di-maples detach from the periphery and hover of the surface, growing reflections that they uplifted from the reflective sheath, then turned horizontal, segregating as cells do in mitosis. Octopi squirming within the root ball pushed with their tentacles, helping to separate the two. The patroness kept up with her grandson as the trail curved around in the opposite direction, bringing them to an area more sprinkled with summer. Arrows of light from a particular sharp angle over the horizon fell onto patient locks hidden in their beds of grass, triggering them to complete their combinations, twisting to exact numbers. As the metal bar unhooked and swung to the opposite side, the bulk of the lock, its metallic sheen diminished, until the activity instigated by the light finalized, becoming a thing of transparent glass into which a tiny blue armadillo waddled to make its burrow. To signal the possession, it rolled into a ball, inspiring rivals to disperse as the glass bar locked into place. Here the grass shared subtle symmetries with one another, more so than ordinary. Lapping up the mist, wooly red grazers lumbered past, a species of Wohan habituated to ambient magic. Half-way around the bend Leffel flinched then craned his neck. “Oh! They cannot do that here!” he bawled, seeing a duo of cars flying over the park, broken away from the periphery of the city. Shamelessly they veered around and landed adjacent to a rest area. Chasing off a family at a mahjong table, the youths filed out of the cars and sprawled out to their own content. Echo couldn’t help but notice how ultra-normal some of them looked, except for the one wearing a bathrobe. A brunette girl with a cream blazer and a spiked neck collar kicked the side of the car for the guy inside to start playing loud music, then threw the mahjong tiles up into the air so the others could dance as they came down. Leffel shuddered at how plainly ultra-normal they were dressed, enhanced magically by some store in the mall to be even more normal. “Excuse me … fellas. The Concentric guidelines clearly read that there is to be no parking or flying overhead. We have to be stewards of this fragile environment and protect the animals that call it home. The park is built on that promise. I’m afraid you will have to return to the portion at once”. The girl raised an eyebrow at the lackluster attempt at moral eloquence, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”. “Listen here young lady, this is a public place, you can’t just make it …” he began until being cut short. “Actually good?” the girl answered, striding over to him. A finger tapped against his chest, “We can go wherever we say, and I don’t see you with wheels, so why don’t you shut your mouth and go count your fancy animals over there”. “I like these kids” Visioness remarked in her head from the realm of silence. “Absolutely not,” Leffel countered, his voice starting to get angry, and with a spell silenced the music, “obviously, if you had been aware of your surroundings you would have known that this place is a reserve for a lot of special creatures. Reading the guidelines lets everyone know what the expectations are. How would you feel if one of these fellows found its way into your room?”. Even as an onlooker, the scene was starting to become intolerable. Straightening her posture, the girl glared into his eyes, “And who do you think you are, Echo?”. Realizing that the youth could probably take her grandson in a fight, she intervened, slapping them a handful of onsuru coins so they would abscond back to the portion. “Cmon, these park rangers are total losers” she growled, climbing into the passenger’s seat. “Empress, those kids needed to be taught some ethics, I really wish you would have let me deal with them in my fashion” he protested, turning away from the departure. Laughing, she summoned a replacement mahjong board, “Maybe on another occasion, but we don’t get time like this often”. “My word, that was quick” she sighed, seeing the academy children fuss about the contraption in the distance. By then Larry was well exhausted, and with a quick cheerio to them shepherded the children back to the classroom bus and packed up the Rube Goldberg Machine onto the back of a truck. “Patron, this has been really nice, we should try it again sometime” Echo mused. “By all means, and I have a present for you” he furnished, holding up the walking stick in his right hand. “Did you think that I brought this simply for show? It’s actually not what you think. I picked it up at the store earlier on the way here and thought you might like it. It’s a nose scratcher” Leffel indicated, causing the staff to retract to manageable hand-held proportions. “I love you grandson”, she replied, then for effect thrust the stick into her nose, itching it back and forth with gusto, displaying a wide beaming goofy smile. Heartily both of them laughed so loudly so as to fluster Larry as he drove past, spinning the wheel to see what was amiss. Like a quick chain reaction, the vehicle swerved down the incline, hitting a tree. “I’m all right, it’s just a dent, '' Larry swore as they pulled him from the driver’s seat, taking one shaky step on the ground then righting his stance. Larry wiped the creases off his shirt then turned to see the condition. “Huh?” he gasped. “The Rube Goldberg Machine fell off of the back of the truck into the pond when you crashed” Echo relayed tentatively as the three of them directed their attention to the shore. Pacing to the edge, a ripple spread across the length of the waters. Leffel blinked and looked down at his hands. Unmistakable phenomenological vibrations dashed over her body from the patron, thrusting her into clearer consciousness, tracing her back through the long ages. Tan walls of the Castle Rieuvi, and of the well of silence, and of the circular ripple that brought about Leffel to console her when divided from her true parents in the Moment flashed into existence. “Do you recall how I came about as a circular ripple?” she could hear him think through the fiefdom. Images and concepts whirled in her mind like the gears of the machine, culminating to a precise action, a sentence that she could feel as it left her own lips, “Now we know ''.

CHAPTER 40 - TIMECURRENT SAVES THE COLONISTS

After the first one hit, Timecurrent ran from the epicenter of the city, her chest pumping like something hammered by a blacksmith. Behind her the conflagration grew, its crown red with billowing ruffles. Yet another followed, its crimson overlapping with the first. The horrible vagueness of it swallowing a building. Ahead of her, in the newly assembled city, the colonists were reeling. Baby blue hair outrun the worst of it as she made her way to the council chamber. There, in the space age interior, families huddled together for sympathy. “I didn’t hear anything about the asteroids” a colonist spat, scolding those who had overstepped their bounds. It was the captain of the neo-frigate, cooling off after a lost poker game. Incensed, the other man got in his face and rolled up his sleeves. Time put him in slow motion before a fight ensued. “Are you just standing there? I need to get these people to safety. The port is four blocks away. We can make it if we leave now” the patron urged in a gasp of exigency. “Is it that bad, mam?” the captain asked. Time nodded her head to oust his disbelief. “The whole place is coming down. Get your gear and let’s go”. Forming into a train behind their leader, the patron led them out the door. Above their heads, the sky was overwhelmed with streaks of fire, ripping the thin fabric of the stratosphere. A cluster of bombs mangled the city around them. Leaving fresh chaos in their wake. The sight of a dancing fireball engrossed her senses. Filling her every thought with adrenaline. “Step it up” Time hollered, across the inharmonious blistering din. Favorably, they made it past two and a quarter blocks. At once the patron looked up to the sky to see the full scope of nature’s ultimatum. “Hey … those aren’t asteroids!” she belted. Time stopped short in astonishment. They were freaking T-Rex Heads blazing through the atmosphere in halos of flame. Toothy grins pointed to the ground. Razor sharp. “Did they gobble up a galaxy?” Time wondered. At that moment, her heart felt like a guy who had just been punched in the face by another guy on a roller coaster who had just been headbutt by another guy on a better rollercoaster. And it fucking hurt. The T-Rex head landed in front of them, burgeoning with a marvel of a flame. The people behind her threw their hands on each other’s shoulders. They tucked down as a ripple made its way across the pavement. Time could not look away from the ball of heat, and saw it twist in weird circular motions. RAAA!!! The T-Rex thundered. A head with a body of pure, elemental flame. The dinosaur was complete. It stomped mercilessly towards them. Time could hardly believe her luck. Flecks of inferno spun and escaped from the backside of the beast. It lowered its head and approached them with ease. A primitive with untamed excitement across its face. Time took a step back as a bit of fire spilled from its mouth like drool. She lifted her hands and manifested a time lapse of prodigious strength. Invisible to the others, pristine wrinkles made their way through another dimension. Undulating as her fingers did. Caught unawares, the beast was sent backwards in time, walking back to the swell of its arrival, and reabsorbed the halo. It rocketed up through the canopy of the sky, across leagues of black abyss. Towards another world. Time led the flustered colonists across the remainder of the city. Happily, the port was still intact. With the help of the captain, they all boarded the neo-frigate and glided it out of there. Time relaxed her weary back against a plush seat cushion. A viewing window was to their left. Little zigzags of light across a canvas of black painted their escape. The refugees made it to their seats in one piece, unpacking what little belongings they had. The chair was unnaturally warm for a space-seat. Heating pads melted away the pain. Time fell unconscious and had the best Zzzz of her life.

CHAPTER 41 - CLIVE NUT-PASTE

“What are you doing out here, grandpa?” Clive exclaimed as he discovered the old man rocking on his chair out on the porch. With slender fingers he turned the pages of a photo album. The grandson tipped his head to see the images, each a rosy old photo of people in quaint, old-fashioned clothing on a summer’s day outing. “Sit, Sit. C’mon and look at these pictures. Do you notice anything funny?” Beryu Nemzi Nut-paste asked his grandson with raised eyebrows. Handing him the album, he poked his nose into the page until the goings-on of that transient picnic day became clear. “Why are you all holding wooden hammers?” wondered the boy, then returned the raised eyebrow back at his grandad. “Look over here, and over here. See those balls in the grass, and those little metal half-rings stuck in the ground? It’s a game where you have to hit the balls through the rings … and you win, you see … but people must have forgotten all about it already” the old man joyfully lamented. A sweet memory popped into his head as he gazed down at the picture. That of picnics, and sandwiches made in haste, and a bowl of strawberries that someone would always spill over while they were talking, and not notice until later. “Do you remember that day, grandpa?” Clive asked, instinctively saying anything to break him from his reverie, without the prudence to know he had done just the opposite. “How could I ever forget … There I was. Standing there in that cream blazer. It was just my turn. The ladies were milling about. But I only had eyes for one … hehehe. Waving her arms in front of the ring before I took my shot. I hadn’t done very good up until then. But when I saw my Zanzibar, that blue dress dancing in the wind, what could I have done but make the perfect shot” the elder reminisced as he gripped his knee, squeezing it. “So, you won the game, didn’t you?” Clive asked, already knowing the answer from the anecdotalist would be, and patted him on the shoulder. “Made the perfect shot. Hit it right through the ring I did. They all saw that I won, and I can tell you it wasn’t even close that time. And that’s how your dad was born” he vainly recalled. “How was he born again?” Clive asked very confusedly as he returned the album sliding it into his slender fingers. Beryu leant over once again, looked at his grandson, straight in the eyes, and said, “Croquet, my dear boy. Croquet”.

Chapter end