[Continued from Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5]
Hugh looked around the room. It was full of things that were utterly foreign to him. Sunlight streamed in through the window upon numerous glinting baubles: metallic eggs with inlaid gems of deep red and green, a half-sized bronze bust of an elderly man, a covered crystal bowl which Hugh opened to find craisens (though Hugh had no idea they were dried cranberries, nor even what cranberries were), and finally, Hugh’s eyes rested on two nails twisted around each other.
He picked them up to get a closer look. It seemed to be two ordinary nails, though they were very silver in color. It almost seemed like they could be pulled apart if they were twisted just the right way…
“Indeed, it is a puzzle, sir,” said Henry. Hugh was so startled, he almost dropped the nails. “I’m sorry if I surprised you, sir.”
“Oh, no problem, I just… that was quick. You were gone for so little.”
“I am valued for my efficiency, sir,” Henry said.
“Well, then if you like being efficient, you don’t have to call me sir.”
Henry nodded. “Very well.”
Hugh looked at the nails again. He fidgeted with them a bit, tried to tug on them, and Henry smiled.
“While I can’t say anyone as large as you has ever tried this puzzle, I assure you: you cannot bend them. They are made of Vulcan Steel. They were forged in a volcano, and you could tie both ends to the two strongest horses in the world and have them pull until their tendons snap, but they wouldn’t be able to get it to budge.”
Hugh looked it over a bit more. The dwarf and giant wandered over and tried to figure out what Hugh was doing. Finally, Hugh twisted it a few different ways, and eventually they slipped apart, much to Hugh’s surprise. “Am I the first person to figure it out?” asked Hugh?
“No sir… in fact, the master’s seven-year-old niece got it last week. Though I must say, you did it a wee bit faster.”
Hugh’s smile evaporated. “Boy, Henry… I said you to quit calling me sir...”
“My apologies,” said Henry. “To show there’s no hard feelings, I’ll have an ottoman brought to your room to be put at the foot of your bed, since we lack any mattresses in the residence that would accommodate a guest of your stature.”
Hugh looked at Henry, not sure how to feel. “Is there one that is a challenge?” asked Hugh.
“Sure,” said Henry. “Try putting them back together. Most people don’t bother to do that. They just leave it for me to do.” Henry turned and began to walk off. “There will be someone sent for you shortly, so don’t meander too far.”
Hugh looked at the two bent nails. Each was bent into a round circle, with the head and tip 90 degrees from each other, sticking out straight, giving it the profile of a circle head with antlers poking out of the middle of its head.
Hugh took one of them and put the point on his thumb and the head on his index finger, then he tried to push them together as hard as he could. The pain in his finger tips was excruciating, but when he looked at it again after his strenuous effort, the nail tip and head were next to each other, forming a teardrop shape.
Hugh panicked and set it back on dresser next to the other one. He hurried out of the room. Next to his was the giants’. Her room was adorned with lace doilies in a pastel palate.
“Can you believe this shit?” asked the giant.
“Maybe you can get another room,” asked Hugh.
“I better. There’s tons of other rooms down this hallway, but all the doors are locked. I didn’t hear anyone inside, so I figure –”
“Ladies and gentleman, I am here to escort you to dinner.” They turned to see a man in a rose-red, velvet tunic over a frilly white shirt. “But first, we’ll need to have you fitted for some clothes which will be appropriate. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the tailor.”
Rather than leaving the house, they went upstairs to a room with large mirrors and a raised circular step in the middle. An older man with glasses and a handlebar mustache smiled as they walked in. “Well, I have my work cut out for me, don’t I?”
“Three custom jobs, by the look of it,” said the escort.
“What are the odds,” the tailor said, looking back and forth at the giant and Hugh, “That on the same day, I would make both the largest set of men’s and the largest women’s clothing of my career?”
“I guess I’m small potatoes, then,” said the dwarf.
“Oh, you’re just an added challenge,” said the tailor. “How long do I have?”
“Two hours,” said the escort.
“Better fetch me…” the tailor paused and made clicking sounds with his mouth, “No less than five seamstresses. If you can find six, I’ll take them.”
“Right away,” the escort said before ducking out the door.
The tailor looked at the three of them and smirked. “So, who’s the first victim?”
The dwarf stepped forward.
“Alright, come here, stand on this.” The tailor took a measuring tape from around his neck and began taking measurements. The dwarf seemed uneasy at times, especially when the tailor came suspiciously close to his junk.
“If it makes you feel any better,” the tailor said, “Up to this moment, you’re the biggest set of clothes I will have made in months.”
The tailor wrote a few things down and waived the dwarf to a set of chairs. The dwarf stepped down and went to take a seat along the wall.
The tailor looked at Hugh. “Let’s smash that record, shall we?”
Hugh climbed the step and stood up straight. His head almost touched the ceiling.
“No wonder you slouch so much,” said the tailor. “I bet you hit your head on a lot of door frames.”
“I’ve been tall for a long time,” said Hugh. “You learn to deal with it.”
“All except the stares, I bet,” the tailor said, working briskly and jotting down numbers in chalk on a scrap of fabric.
“Yeah,” said Hugh.
“Not to mention the eye,” the tailor said.
Hugh sighed.
“Oh, I’m sorry there, buddy,” the tailor said, moving in front of Hugh and looking up at him. “I know a lot of people will give you guff for being different, but you don’t have to worry about that in this house.”
“What is the deal with this place?” asked Hugh. “He’s in the flower business or something?”
The tailor laughed. “Oh sure, he’s just a gardener… and a collector of rare animals, and the owner of two chariot racing teams, and the richest man in the entire city.”
“And he got it… from roses?”
“More or less,” said the tailor. “He was a young farmer with a plot of land that would not yield grain or fruit, only rose bushes seemed to grow. One year, he had so many roses that he couldn’t sell, he collected the nearly rotting petals and lined the streets of the city late one night before a fertility festival. People loved it so much that the next year, they paid him to do it.”
The tailor motioned for the giant, and Hugh stepped down as the giant took his spot. “Now, let’s see what the new female record will stand at.” After he was almost done, he asked, “Are the two of you siblings or something?”
“Twins,” the giant and dwarf said together.
“Well, that explains it. Other than your hips and chest, you guys are pretty much identical.” He made a few more measurements. “Alright, you’re done, my dear.”
The tailor opened a door and began rummaging around.
“I have some larger sized clothing for the twins, we’ll just have to rip the stitching on the hems and add a little fringe to supplement the length. As for the cyclops…”
“Hugh.”
“My name’s Merk. So, as for Hugh, we’re starting from raw materials here.” He pulled out two large rolls of cloth. “I hope you all like red. It’s the house color.”
Merk began tracing the outline of a vest on a large piece of velour that was orangish-red, one might say salmon colored. The first seamstress came in, took a wide eyed glance at the three of them sitting there, and joined the tailor in measuring, cutting, and eventually sewing. Four more seamstresses came in. When the last one had been given instructions, Merk walked over to the three waiting clients.
“Okay, next up is a haircut. I’m also a barber, so if you’ll come with me, I’ll get you all cleaned up.”
The tailor/barber led them through the house, out of the back of the residence, to a large fountain in the yard with a break in the trees. “Go ahead and wet your hair, or even take a quick dip if you’re so inclined,” said Merk.
Merk went back inside as the three of them wet their heads in the fountain. The dwarf stripped down completely naked and plunged in. Merk returned with a chair, which he set up in the sunniest spot. Hugh sat down first.
“How do you like it cut?”
“Whatever you recommend.”
“I won’t let you down.” Merk ran his hands through Hugh’s hair, walking around behind him. After a few snips, Merk asked, “So, what’s your story, Hugh?”
“My story?”
“Yeah, your story. Everyone has a story they want to tell.”
“Well…” Hugh began, “My mom was a water nymph, my father was a cyclops, though I never met him. When I got old enough, I left home and found a small, unoccupied island. A few decades later, I found the twins abandoned on a beach. A couple decades after that, an old man arrived, died, and we’ve been trying to get him a sea burial since.”
Merk had not hesitated to this point, but he stopped cutting and started laughing after Hugh was finished. “Oh my… I have to say, I wish I had more folks like you. I’ve never heard a story like that, from the cradle to my chair with few, yet odd, details.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“No need to apologize, I’m thoroughly entertained. So how old are you?”
“I’m 50.”
“You look good for your age, a nice full hairline.”
“Well, I’m just a scamp as far as cyclopes go. If I’m lucky, I might live a millennium or more, but realistically I’ll probably live another 700 years or so, at least.”
“I can’t even imagine living that long.”
“To be honest, neither can I,” said Hugh. “Things just seem to keep changing faster and faster around me. I don’t know how I’m ever going to keep up. You can kind of see why most of my kind get to a point where they just retire to a cave somewhere, away from everyone else.”
“Oh, I suppose change can be hard,” said Merk. “I mean, sure…people do things these days that would have been unthinkable when I was growing up… but some of those changes are for the better.”
“Very true,” said Hugh. “But on my island, I created my own world, and there is no need for change, because it’s already perfect.”
“It’s perfect on your island?”
“I would say so,” said Hugh.
“Was it perfect before or after the twins arrived?”
Hugh thought for a few seconds. “You know what? I spent so much time worrying about being imposed upon, I never stopped to consider whether I might be missing out on something even better. The twins have made life better, or at least more interesting. They’re better company than my cattle, and when they relied on me to survive, they sort of gave me a purpose. Even now, when they could do just fine on their own, I feel good knowing they stick around, even though they don’t have to.”
Merk continued chatting with Hugh until his hair was finished, then the giant and dwarf had their turn in the chair. As he was brushing hair off the last of them, a seamstress came out and told them their clothes were finished.
They went inside and found their clothes in their rooms. The giant was given a red satin dress, the dwarf a red brocade doublet, and Hugh a white shirt and red velvet vest. When they left their rooms, Hugh and the giant both stifled a laugh at the giant’s consternation.
“I can’t believe I have to wear a dress,” she said.
“You look glorious, my dear,” a voice down the hall said. Walker approached them with a large entourage in tow. “I hope you are ready to meet the city’s rich and powerful.”
To be continued…
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
The Several Adventures of Hugh, Part 5
[Continued from Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4]
Everyone was quiet as they headed toward the road to Polity. They reached it before too long and came to a fork leading to two bridges. A sign at the split read:
They stand reading the sign a few times, blinking.
“You know…” began the dwarf. “You’d think he might have mentioned this bit.”
“I don’t get it,” said Hugh.
“Look,” pointed the giant. “Those two guys are each standing in front of a path. One of the paths leads to us to the city, and apparently the other will kill us…”
“So… how do we know which way to go?” asked Hugh.
“Yeah… exactly,” said the dwarf.
“Okay, let’s think,” the giant said. She shifted her weight and began rubbing her chin, looking between the two bridges.
“I got it,” said the dwarf. “We ask them something obvious, like… is the sky blue?”
“The sky isn’t blue during sunrise and sunset,” said Hugh.
The dwarf scoffed. “Okay, then we can ask if he’s a woman.”
“What if they’re a transsexual?” asked Hugh.
“Wait,” said the giant, “It doesn’t matter, because even if we ask a really obvious question, like… are you standing on a bridge or is it daytime right now… even if we know that they lie or tell the truth, we don’t know if the liar is guarding the bridge to the city or… our demise.”
“How do you suppose they’ll kill us?” asked the dwarf.
“I’m not interested in finding out,” said Hugh. “I know what to ask.” He walked up to the nearest one. They heard mumbling in the distance. Hugh waved them over. “It’s the other one, come on.”
As they crossed the other bridge, the giant nudged Hugh. “What did you ask?”
Hugh smiled. “I asked, ‘Which path would the other one tell me they were standing in front of?’”
The dwarf furrowed his brow. “How does that work?”
“Simple,” said Hugh. “You see, they will always answer with the path they are guarding.”
“They the other one, or they the one you’re asking?” asked the dwarf.
“The answer will be for the one you’re asking.”
“Seriously?” asked the dwarf.
“Yep,” Hugh said.
“I don’t get it,” said the dwarf.
“Think about it,” said Hugh. “Think about every possibility.”
“But… there’s so many!”
“There’s only four!” Hugh said, shaking his head.
“He never had a mind for math,” said the giant.
“Probably all of the brain damage you’ve done smacking me over the years,” said the dwarf. The giant pulled back like she was going to slap him, and when he flinched, she lightly kicked him in the backside.
“You’re too easy to fool, brother.”
The first person they saw as they entered the city was a town crier, who was nursing a flagon of beer.
“Oy,” said the town crier, shoving himself straight up from the tree he was leaning on. “What have we here?”
“We’re looking for a place to hold a funeral,” said the giant.
The crier looked Hugh up and down, and eventually addressed the dwarf. “What’s your business here?”
“Oh, uh…” the dwarf stuttered, still trying to figure out the riddle. “Well, like my sister said, we’re looking to get rid of this dead body.”
“Ay?”
“What he means,” the giant said, stepping between the dwarf and the crier, “Is that we need to arrange for a sea burial of some kind.”
“Oh, we can’t do that for you here,” said the crier. “Especially not tonight, or tomorrow, for that matter. Tomorrow is election day, and all religious temples and businesses will be closed so that we can cast our votes for our new chancellor.”
“Alright, well…” the giant began. “If we wait until after the election, will we be able to make arrangements?”
“I’m afraid only very important people get sea burials anymore,” the crier said. “You would either have to be very powerful or on a waiting list for years.”
The giant groaned.
“But you can get rid of this body for us some other way, right?” asked the dwarf. “Like burning it or… feeding it to dogs or something?”
The crier winced. “Right… well, there are many fine inns and taverns where you might purchase a room for the two of you…” The crier glanced quite obviously at Hugh. “I don’t know about… that… thing.”
“Come on,” Hugh said, “I can hear you.”
The crier’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, it speaks…”
“Hey, don’t be rude to him,” the giant said. “He’s the one who solved your little riddle to get here.”
“Ah, yes,” the crier said, nodding. “That little ploy stops half of the fools from reaching the city gates.”
“What about the other half?” asked Hugh.
“Drinking, gambling, women… something always gets them.”
“You have gambling?” asked the dwarf.
Hugh and the giant looked at each other.
“Yes, my boy,” the crier said. “We have some of the best gambling in the world: four race tracks, two gladiatorial arenas, and of course, three world-class casinos filled wall-to-wall with tables for every type of gaming known to man.”
“You mentioned an election,” Hugh said.
“I can’t tell you anything today,” the crier said. “It’s the law. Can’t say I’d want to, either. I thought I was going to go hoarse after shouting non-stop for weeks now. But, it’s the law that no one can talk politics today, as a sort of break for everyone. The three candidates are probably sharing a beer together now in some symbolic show of unity, even though all three of them hate each other.”
“Who hates me?” Someone walked up to them, smiling. ““You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said the crier.
“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Walker, and I am but a humble shrub farmer.”
“When have you ever been humble?” the crier asks, walking up to him and giving him a huge bear hug.
“Are my opponents importing voters from distant lands, now?” asked Walker, still beaming from ear to ear.
“Naw,” the crier said. “These folks came here for a burial.” He swept his hand toward the wheelbarrow.
“Oh my,” said Walker. He put his hand on the giant’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do for you in this time of need… I’m sure we could still register you to vote.” Walker winked at the dwarf.
The crier shakes his head. “I didn’t hear that.”
“Hear what?” Walker asked over his shoulder. He turned back to the giant and the dwarf. “We can get the two of you registered in the morning. I promise you, if I am elected, I will do everything in my power to provide the proper burial for your… father, grandfather?”
“He’s just a friend,” the dwarf said.
“A very lucky man, with very dedicated friends,” Walker said. He looked at them, settling his gaze on Hugh. “The kind of friends I would like to have, actually. I imagine your dedication is matched only by your sheer size. Where are you staying while you’re in town?”
“We don’t have a place,” said the giant.
“Just my luck,” Walker said. “I simply insist that you stay with me. We can store your friend’s body in my family’s mausoleum. It’s right under my estate.”
The giant and the dwarf looked at each other, then back at Hugh, who shrugged.
They followed Walker through the city, following cobble stone roads through narrow alleys. Stone buildings towered three or four stories over them at times. They came to a large fountain with stone mermaid statues partially submerged in the water.
Past the fountain was a large building with an enormous copper dome that had turned mint green. Hugh looked in the other direction, across a grass plaza, and saw a tall marble obelisk, with swirling patterns of black and gray.
Walker waved to those who stared at them. Soon, they were back into the claustrophobic streets, passing homes and store fronts. The smell of food being cooked mingled with the stench of human waste in the gutters. They moved their backs to the wall as a mule drawn cart passed them.
Before long, they came to an archway covered in roses with a metal gate. Walker stood in front of it for a moment, and a man sitting on the other side got up, threw a latch, and opened the door for them. He bowed his head as they passed, and closed the gate once they were through, locking it.
They walked down a path through a garden, flanked on either side by several small ponds full of fish. As they approached the building, an enormous animal waddled from behind a hedge and sat down next to the path.
“Who’s a good boy?” Walker said in a sing-song voice. He put his hands on either side of its huge face. “This is a tibear, supposedly half tiger and half bear. However, my vet assures me they’re actually a very large sloth.”
The animal looked like a white bear with black stripes. Hugh noticed huge, curved claws. It’s small eyes seemed lost in all it’s fur.
“I’m a man who likes exotic things,” said Walker, “And I have a talent for getting what I like.”
They continued up the steps toward the large home. The entire façade was made of white marble, with the exception of a floor mural of a single rose in the center. A drop of blood drips from one of the thorns. They walked up to the front door, where another doorman opened it for them. Inside was a man in a white hooded robe. He lifted his head as they entered and said, “It is good to see you, sir.”
“Hankster, my boy,” Walker shouted. “Help these three to rooms. I’ll have someone send for them around dinner, see to it that they’re comfortable until then.”
“This way,” he said, walking down a corridor with his arm raised high in the air.
“I leave you in very capable hands, my friends,” Walker said, heading to another part of the house.
“So… your name is Hankster?” asked the dwarf.
“Only the master calls me Hankster. My given name is Henry. Feel free to call me whatever you wish,” Henry said.
“Could I call you Scum Maggot?” asked the dwarf.
“If sir wishes it,” said Henry… or Scum Maggot.
The giant popped her brother in the jaw. “Don’t talk to people like that, you know better.”
Hugh smirked.
Henry opened three doors for them, and inquired as to what was in the wheelbarrow. Upon hearing of Walker’s promise to store the body, Henry lifted the wrapped corpse onto his broad shoulders and carried it down to the catacombs while the three of them went to check out their rooms.
To be continued…
Everyone was quiet as they headed toward the road to Polity. They reached it before too long and came to a fork leading to two bridges. A sign at the split read:
A test to weed the dumb from wise
One is honest, one always lies
You get one question to surmise
Which path won’t end in your demise
They stand reading the sign a few times, blinking.
“You know…” began the dwarf. “You’d think he might have mentioned this bit.”
“I don’t get it,” said Hugh.
“Look,” pointed the giant. “Those two guys are each standing in front of a path. One of the paths leads to us to the city, and apparently the other will kill us…”
“So… how do we know which way to go?” asked Hugh.
“Yeah… exactly,” said the dwarf.
“Okay, let’s think,” the giant said. She shifted her weight and began rubbing her chin, looking between the two bridges.
“I got it,” said the dwarf. “We ask them something obvious, like… is the sky blue?”
“The sky isn’t blue during sunrise and sunset,” said Hugh.
The dwarf scoffed. “Okay, then we can ask if he’s a woman.”
“What if they’re a transsexual?” asked Hugh.
“Wait,” said the giant, “It doesn’t matter, because even if we ask a really obvious question, like… are you standing on a bridge or is it daytime right now… even if we know that they lie or tell the truth, we don’t know if the liar is guarding the bridge to the city or… our demise.”
“How do you suppose they’ll kill us?” asked the dwarf.
“I’m not interested in finding out,” said Hugh. “I know what to ask.” He walked up to the nearest one. They heard mumbling in the distance. Hugh waved them over. “It’s the other one, come on.”
As they crossed the other bridge, the giant nudged Hugh. “What did you ask?”
Hugh smiled. “I asked, ‘Which path would the other one tell me they were standing in front of?’”
The dwarf furrowed his brow. “How does that work?”
“Simple,” said Hugh. “You see, they will always answer with the path they are guarding.”
“They the other one, or they the one you’re asking?” asked the dwarf.
“The answer will be for the one you’re asking.”
“Seriously?” asked the dwarf.
“Yep,” Hugh said.
“I don’t get it,” said the dwarf.
“Think about it,” said Hugh. “Think about every possibility.”
“But… there’s so many!”
“There’s only four!” Hugh said, shaking his head.
“He never had a mind for math,” said the giant.
“Probably all of the brain damage you’ve done smacking me over the years,” said the dwarf. The giant pulled back like she was going to slap him, and when he flinched, she lightly kicked him in the backside.
“You’re too easy to fool, brother.”
The first person they saw as they entered the city was a town crier, who was nursing a flagon of beer.
“Oy,” said the town crier, shoving himself straight up from the tree he was leaning on. “What have we here?”
“We’re looking for a place to hold a funeral,” said the giant.
The crier looked Hugh up and down, and eventually addressed the dwarf. “What’s your business here?”
“Oh, uh…” the dwarf stuttered, still trying to figure out the riddle. “Well, like my sister said, we’re looking to get rid of this dead body.”
“Ay?”
“What he means,” the giant said, stepping between the dwarf and the crier, “Is that we need to arrange for a sea burial of some kind.”
“Oh, we can’t do that for you here,” said the crier. “Especially not tonight, or tomorrow, for that matter. Tomorrow is election day, and all religious temples and businesses will be closed so that we can cast our votes for our new chancellor.”
“Alright, well…” the giant began. “If we wait until after the election, will we be able to make arrangements?”
“I’m afraid only very important people get sea burials anymore,” the crier said. “You would either have to be very powerful or on a waiting list for years.”
The giant groaned.
“But you can get rid of this body for us some other way, right?” asked the dwarf. “Like burning it or… feeding it to dogs or something?”
The crier winced. “Right… well, there are many fine inns and taverns where you might purchase a room for the two of you…” The crier glanced quite obviously at Hugh. “I don’t know about… that… thing.”
“Come on,” Hugh said, “I can hear you.”
The crier’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, it speaks…”
“Hey, don’t be rude to him,” the giant said. “He’s the one who solved your little riddle to get here.”
“Ah, yes,” the crier said, nodding. “That little ploy stops half of the fools from reaching the city gates.”
“What about the other half?” asked Hugh.
“Drinking, gambling, women… something always gets them.”
“You have gambling?” asked the dwarf.
Hugh and the giant looked at each other.
“Yes, my boy,” the crier said. “We have some of the best gambling in the world: four race tracks, two gladiatorial arenas, and of course, three world-class casinos filled wall-to-wall with tables for every type of gaming known to man.”
“You mentioned an election,” Hugh said.
“I can’t tell you anything today,” the crier said. “It’s the law. Can’t say I’d want to, either. I thought I was going to go hoarse after shouting non-stop for weeks now. But, it’s the law that no one can talk politics today, as a sort of break for everyone. The three candidates are probably sharing a beer together now in some symbolic show of unity, even though all three of them hate each other.”
“Who hates me?” Someone walked up to them, smiling. ““You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said the crier.
“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Walker, and I am but a humble shrub farmer.”
“When have you ever been humble?” the crier asks, walking up to him and giving him a huge bear hug.
“Are my opponents importing voters from distant lands, now?” asked Walker, still beaming from ear to ear.
“Naw,” the crier said. “These folks came here for a burial.” He swept his hand toward the wheelbarrow.
“Oh my,” said Walker. He put his hand on the giant’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do for you in this time of need… I’m sure we could still register you to vote.” Walker winked at the dwarf.
The crier shakes his head. “I didn’t hear that.”
“Hear what?” Walker asked over his shoulder. He turned back to the giant and the dwarf. “We can get the two of you registered in the morning. I promise you, if I am elected, I will do everything in my power to provide the proper burial for your… father, grandfather?”
“He’s just a friend,” the dwarf said.
“A very lucky man, with very dedicated friends,” Walker said. He looked at them, settling his gaze on Hugh. “The kind of friends I would like to have, actually. I imagine your dedication is matched only by your sheer size. Where are you staying while you’re in town?”
“We don’t have a place,” said the giant.
“Just my luck,” Walker said. “I simply insist that you stay with me. We can store your friend’s body in my family’s mausoleum. It’s right under my estate.”
The giant and the dwarf looked at each other, then back at Hugh, who shrugged.
They followed Walker through the city, following cobble stone roads through narrow alleys. Stone buildings towered three or four stories over them at times. They came to a large fountain with stone mermaid statues partially submerged in the water.
Past the fountain was a large building with an enormous copper dome that had turned mint green. Hugh looked in the other direction, across a grass plaza, and saw a tall marble obelisk, with swirling patterns of black and gray.
Walker waved to those who stared at them. Soon, they were back into the claustrophobic streets, passing homes and store fronts. The smell of food being cooked mingled with the stench of human waste in the gutters. They moved their backs to the wall as a mule drawn cart passed them.
Before long, they came to an archway covered in roses with a metal gate. Walker stood in front of it for a moment, and a man sitting on the other side got up, threw a latch, and opened the door for them. He bowed his head as they passed, and closed the gate once they were through, locking it.
They walked down a path through a garden, flanked on either side by several small ponds full of fish. As they approached the building, an enormous animal waddled from behind a hedge and sat down next to the path.
“Who’s a good boy?” Walker said in a sing-song voice. He put his hands on either side of its huge face. “This is a tibear, supposedly half tiger and half bear. However, my vet assures me they’re actually a very large sloth.”
The animal looked like a white bear with black stripes. Hugh noticed huge, curved claws. It’s small eyes seemed lost in all it’s fur.
“I’m a man who likes exotic things,” said Walker, “And I have a talent for getting what I like.”
They continued up the steps toward the large home. The entire façade was made of white marble, with the exception of a floor mural of a single rose in the center. A drop of blood drips from one of the thorns. They walked up to the front door, where another doorman opened it for them. Inside was a man in a white hooded robe. He lifted his head as they entered and said, “It is good to see you, sir.”
“Hankster, my boy,” Walker shouted. “Help these three to rooms. I’ll have someone send for them around dinner, see to it that they’re comfortable until then.”
“This way,” he said, walking down a corridor with his arm raised high in the air.
“I leave you in very capable hands, my friends,” Walker said, heading to another part of the house.
“So… your name is Hankster?” asked the dwarf.
“Only the master calls me Hankster. My given name is Henry. Feel free to call me whatever you wish,” Henry said.
“Could I call you Scum Maggot?” asked the dwarf.
“If sir wishes it,” said Henry… or Scum Maggot.
The giant popped her brother in the jaw. “Don’t talk to people like that, you know better.”
Hugh smirked.
Henry opened three doors for them, and inquired as to what was in the wheelbarrow. Upon hearing of Walker’s promise to store the body, Henry lifted the wrapped corpse onto his broad shoulders and carried it down to the catacombs while the three of them went to check out their rooms.
To be continued…
Thursday, June 14, 2012
The Several Adventures of Hugh, Part 4
[Continued from Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3]
“Are any of you good with a bow?” asked Ginx.
“I’m not too shabby,” said the giant.
“I have a spare one over there by the book shelf,” Ginx said. “We might as well have two of us shooting.”
The shapes below made slow progress toward the tower. There were now hundreds, if not thousands of them. They silently slinked out from the lake, many headed toward them, but scores more merely spread out from the beach in every direction.
“Okay, here’s what I do: I take an arrow, dip,” Ginx put the cloth-tipped head in a jar of clear liquid, “Draw,” he pulled the arrow back, “Light,” he passed the tip of the drawn arrow over a nearby torch, “And fire.” He hits the zombie closest to the tower in one of its thighs. The flame slowly grows and eventually engulfs the zombie.
“Lucky shot,” he said. “I usually have to put a few into them. You’ll see. Either the fire goes out because it hits a particularly wet spot, or the arrow doesn’t stick, or I just miss completely. If we wait a bit, they’ll be so thick that you can hardly miss if you try.”
Hugh stood next to Ginx, looking out. “How long have you been here doing this?”
“Almost a week now,” he replied. “I sort of came upon this place accidentally. I had heard about it before, but I didn’t mean to find it. I was on my way back home from the Siege of Quadrifortica. You know… I helped break through the fourth wall.”
“I don’t know what that means,” said Hugh.
“That’s okay. We have more important matters to attend to. Maybe with your help, I can clear up this lake, we can put up some signs, and we don’t have to worry about this anymore.” Ginx fired another arrow at a zombie a few meters away from the tower, glancing off its skull.
“Bah, I hate when it bounces off their head. Anyway, I was kind of worried I would feel obliged to stay here forever, killing these things until the day I died, but I like your sign idea. I want to believe I would have come up with it on my own, but… I don’t know. Maybe not.”
The giant fired an arrow, hitting the very same zombie in the groin. The fire slowly began licking at the lower torso, and soon spread.
“Nice crotch shot,” said Ginx.
“To be honest, I was aiming for the heart area.”
Ginx smirked. “I blame my home-made arrows. I don’t have much to work with out here. I need to come up with another way to kill more of them faster.”
Hugh bent down to look at the liquid. “What is this?”
“It’s alcohol,” said Ginx. “There’s a distillery with barrels of the stuff in the basement.”
Hugh looked out over the whole scene. “Why don’t you set up the alcohol along the ground somehow to burn them all?”
Ginx fired another arrow into the growing crowd beneath them, which caused a fire that spread to other zombies, eventually leaving a gap that was gradually filled by the slow, trudging mass trampling upon the smoldering embers. “There isn’t enough to cover all the space from here to the beach where they surface, let alone all that out there,” he said, motioning to those scattered about in the distance.
Once all the arrows had been exhausted, which wasn’t very long at all, they retired to the basement to assess the situation.
“Maybe we could fill bottles with the stuff and throw it down on them, then light it,” said the dwarf.
“Where are we going to get bottles?” asked Ginx.
“Perhaps we can get the distillery running again and make more alcohol,” said the giant.
“Unless one of you knows how to repair it, run it, and farm something to put in it… I don’t think that’s an option,” replied Ginx.
Hugh remained largely silent, thinking, as they debated the possibilities of somehow spreading it on the ground or leaving the barrels at intervals and lighting it as the zombies walked by. Eventually, they just went to sleep.
When they woke up, the sun was almost peaking out from above the horizon and all the zombies were disappearing into the lake, all except one, whose foot was caught in a tree root. It slowly tried to press onward, but remained firmly in place. They slowly approached it, and just as the sun’s rays pierced the morning darkness, the zombie began to crumble apart. It then fell into a puff of dust.
“I have an idea,” said Hugh. “Clearly, we don’t need to burn them all, we just need to stop them from going back into the lake. So, we should set up a firewall around the beach. Then, when they turn around in the morning to head back, we can light it ablaze. Any of the zombies who aren’t burned up by the wall will be destroyed by the sun.”
“Brilliant,” said Ginx.
So, they set to work. Hugh began uprooting trees and laying their trunks along the beach, while the other three began moving the barrels to the beach from the tower’s basement. Once it was all set up, Ginx showed them how to make arrows from tree saplings. They killed a goose-lizard for dinner and used the feathers to fletch the arrows.
As the first zombies began appearing in the fading light of the setting sun, they began dousing the tree trunks in alcohol. As zombies began pouring through the thin gaps between the trunks along the beach, they retreated to the tower and sat in the basement.
“Only one thing to do not,” said Ginx, rolling out a barrel he had hidden from a dark alcove. “We drink. If I drink enough, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to piss, then I can wake you guys up, because they turn around and head back pretty late, or early, depending on how you look at it.”
He poured a glass for everyone.
“You know,” he said. “This used to be the seashore, just a hundred year ago or so, before the ocean receded a few miles away. The people who lived along the shore used to bury their bead at sea. They would fill a boat with their most prized possessions, and they would even put their loved ones and slaves on board. Then, the ship would be set off onto the water, and set ablaze.”
“That’s awful,” said the giant.
“Tell me about it,” said Ginx. “It’s another one of those traditions that make you wonder about the mental state of those who did it in the first place, let alone those who continue to do it.”
“What do you think happens after we die?” asked the dwarf.
“I can’t say for sure, but I imagine being dead will be a lot like it was for me before I was born,” Ginx said, smirking.
“What were you before you were born?” asked the giant.
Ginx chuckled, “What were you?”
“I don’t know,” said the giant.
“So if you don’t remember, why would I?”
“Well,” began the giant. “We met a man who said that we become reincarnated into something else after we die, and he remembered what he had been before.”
Ginx shook his head and took another drink. “I don’t want to call that man a liar, because he may genuinely believe what he told you, but imagination is more powerful than memory, and it’s certainly more powerful than reason.”
“So, what are you saying?” asked the giant. “What happens after we die?”
“Nothing, and everything,” said Ginx. “The world will still be here. Other living people will continue to live. However, you’ll be dead and you will cease to exist.”
“That’s depressing,” said the dwarf, staring into his glass.
“I think it’s optimistic and liberating,” said Ginx. “Sure, from a selfish perspective, it sucks that I won’t get to see my grandkids grow up, or my great grandkids being born, or whatever it is people are so desperate to witness. But at the same time, there have been some horrible people in the world. Really, really wretched people whose departure from existence is a huge boon for the universe as a whole. I’m glad people aren’t eternal, because it gives me hope that the ignorance and evil that persists today among us may also be mortal and finite, for it exists only through such fragile beings. The world isn’t a bad place, the problem is the people in it, but the world will persist, while the people come and go.”
“How is that optimistic?” asked the giant.
“Okay,” said Ginx. “Imagine the person you hate most in the world.”
“That would be my brother,” said the giant.
“Right back at you,” said the dwarf.
“Well, this won’t work,” said Ginx. “I mean really hate. Like, imagine a man who kills and tortures people, who makes the lives of all those around him worse off. Imagine him. Now, would you want that person to live even beyond when they’re alive?”
“Well… actually, that’s kind of why we’re here,” said the giant.
“What?” asked Ginx.
“That body we have with us… he was some sort of cruel king or something,” the giant said.
Ginx’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit,” he said. He got up and went upstairs to look at the body. When he removed the shroud, his jaw dropped. He gingerly placed it back and trudged back downstairs in a daze. He poured himself another glass.
“If we cease to exist after we die, why are those bodies coming out of the lake up there?” asked the dwarf.
Ginx just stared silently at the table edge in front of him. After a while, he said, :Maybe we should just call it a night.”
They all went to sleep, except Ginx, who lay awake staring at the ceiling. After a while, he walked upstairs, purposely avoiding the corpse with his eyes, and sat in the top of the lighthouse, waiting for the zombies to begin to turn back.
Hour later, they did abandon the tower and head towards the lake again, so Ginx ran downstairs to wake the others. They each took turns firing out at the tree trunks, but only Hugh was able to draw the bow far enough to reach, after breaking one bow accidentally on his first draw. With the beach ablaze, the zombies stopped dead in their tracks.
From the top of the lighthouse, they waited and watched as morning broke, and every last one of the undead below them were reduced to bonemeal. The bulk of their labor now done, they began the more amusing task of producing signs. They all had fun with the exercise, all except Ginx, who had completely lost any sign of cheer.
Once they had erected signs every twenty meters or so around the lake, Ginx explained to them where they would find a city on the shore where they could make funeral arrangements.
“You know, I never could have done this without you guys,” said Ginx.
“Only returning the favor for saving us,” said Hugh.
“Well, don’t trust anymore birds,” Ginx said, turning to head the other direction.
“I hope our paths cross again,” the giant said.
“It’s always possible,” Ginx said.
The dwarf nudged his sister and whispered to her, “Waiting for hug and kiss goodbye?” She smacked the back of his head with her open palm.
Hugh took hold of the wheelbarrow and turned it toward the city of Polity, his two companions following him.
After there was more distance between them, Ginx turned and yelled, “Take care of him. That’s my father’s body.”
To be continued…
“Are any of you good with a bow?” asked Ginx.
“I’m not too shabby,” said the giant.
“I have a spare one over there by the book shelf,” Ginx said. “We might as well have two of us shooting.”
The shapes below made slow progress toward the tower. There were now hundreds, if not thousands of them. They silently slinked out from the lake, many headed toward them, but scores more merely spread out from the beach in every direction.
“Okay, here’s what I do: I take an arrow, dip,” Ginx put the cloth-tipped head in a jar of clear liquid, “Draw,” he pulled the arrow back, “Light,” he passed the tip of the drawn arrow over a nearby torch, “And fire.” He hits the zombie closest to the tower in one of its thighs. The flame slowly grows and eventually engulfs the zombie.
“Lucky shot,” he said. “I usually have to put a few into them. You’ll see. Either the fire goes out because it hits a particularly wet spot, or the arrow doesn’t stick, or I just miss completely. If we wait a bit, they’ll be so thick that you can hardly miss if you try.”
Hugh stood next to Ginx, looking out. “How long have you been here doing this?”
“Almost a week now,” he replied. “I sort of came upon this place accidentally. I had heard about it before, but I didn’t mean to find it. I was on my way back home from the Siege of Quadrifortica. You know… I helped break through the fourth wall.”
“I don’t know what that means,” said Hugh.
“That’s okay. We have more important matters to attend to. Maybe with your help, I can clear up this lake, we can put up some signs, and we don’t have to worry about this anymore.” Ginx fired another arrow at a zombie a few meters away from the tower, glancing off its skull.
“Bah, I hate when it bounces off their head. Anyway, I was kind of worried I would feel obliged to stay here forever, killing these things until the day I died, but I like your sign idea. I want to believe I would have come up with it on my own, but… I don’t know. Maybe not.”
The giant fired an arrow, hitting the very same zombie in the groin. The fire slowly began licking at the lower torso, and soon spread.
“Nice crotch shot,” said Ginx.
“To be honest, I was aiming for the heart area.”
Ginx smirked. “I blame my home-made arrows. I don’t have much to work with out here. I need to come up with another way to kill more of them faster.”
Hugh bent down to look at the liquid. “What is this?”
“It’s alcohol,” said Ginx. “There’s a distillery with barrels of the stuff in the basement.”
Hugh looked out over the whole scene. “Why don’t you set up the alcohol along the ground somehow to burn them all?”
Ginx fired another arrow into the growing crowd beneath them, which caused a fire that spread to other zombies, eventually leaving a gap that was gradually filled by the slow, trudging mass trampling upon the smoldering embers. “There isn’t enough to cover all the space from here to the beach where they surface, let alone all that out there,” he said, motioning to those scattered about in the distance.
Once all the arrows had been exhausted, which wasn’t very long at all, they retired to the basement to assess the situation.
“Maybe we could fill bottles with the stuff and throw it down on them, then light it,” said the dwarf.
“Where are we going to get bottles?” asked Ginx.
“Perhaps we can get the distillery running again and make more alcohol,” said the giant.
“Unless one of you knows how to repair it, run it, and farm something to put in it… I don’t think that’s an option,” replied Ginx.
Hugh remained largely silent, thinking, as they debated the possibilities of somehow spreading it on the ground or leaving the barrels at intervals and lighting it as the zombies walked by. Eventually, they just went to sleep.
When they woke up, the sun was almost peaking out from above the horizon and all the zombies were disappearing into the lake, all except one, whose foot was caught in a tree root. It slowly tried to press onward, but remained firmly in place. They slowly approached it, and just as the sun’s rays pierced the morning darkness, the zombie began to crumble apart. It then fell into a puff of dust.
“I have an idea,” said Hugh. “Clearly, we don’t need to burn them all, we just need to stop them from going back into the lake. So, we should set up a firewall around the beach. Then, when they turn around in the morning to head back, we can light it ablaze. Any of the zombies who aren’t burned up by the wall will be destroyed by the sun.”
“Brilliant,” said Ginx.
So, they set to work. Hugh began uprooting trees and laying their trunks along the beach, while the other three began moving the barrels to the beach from the tower’s basement. Once it was all set up, Ginx showed them how to make arrows from tree saplings. They killed a goose-lizard for dinner and used the feathers to fletch the arrows.
As the first zombies began appearing in the fading light of the setting sun, they began dousing the tree trunks in alcohol. As zombies began pouring through the thin gaps between the trunks along the beach, they retreated to the tower and sat in the basement.
“Only one thing to do not,” said Ginx, rolling out a barrel he had hidden from a dark alcove. “We drink. If I drink enough, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to piss, then I can wake you guys up, because they turn around and head back pretty late, or early, depending on how you look at it.”
He poured a glass for everyone.
“You know,” he said. “This used to be the seashore, just a hundred year ago or so, before the ocean receded a few miles away. The people who lived along the shore used to bury their bead at sea. They would fill a boat with their most prized possessions, and they would even put their loved ones and slaves on board. Then, the ship would be set off onto the water, and set ablaze.”
“That’s awful,” said the giant.
“Tell me about it,” said Ginx. “It’s another one of those traditions that make you wonder about the mental state of those who did it in the first place, let alone those who continue to do it.”
“What do you think happens after we die?” asked the dwarf.
“I can’t say for sure, but I imagine being dead will be a lot like it was for me before I was born,” Ginx said, smirking.
“What were you before you were born?” asked the giant.
Ginx chuckled, “What were you?”
“I don’t know,” said the giant.
“So if you don’t remember, why would I?”
“Well,” began the giant. “We met a man who said that we become reincarnated into something else after we die, and he remembered what he had been before.”
Ginx shook his head and took another drink. “I don’t want to call that man a liar, because he may genuinely believe what he told you, but imagination is more powerful than memory, and it’s certainly more powerful than reason.”
“So, what are you saying?” asked the giant. “What happens after we die?”
“Nothing, and everything,” said Ginx. “The world will still be here. Other living people will continue to live. However, you’ll be dead and you will cease to exist.”
“That’s depressing,” said the dwarf, staring into his glass.
“I think it’s optimistic and liberating,” said Ginx. “Sure, from a selfish perspective, it sucks that I won’t get to see my grandkids grow up, or my great grandkids being born, or whatever it is people are so desperate to witness. But at the same time, there have been some horrible people in the world. Really, really wretched people whose departure from existence is a huge boon for the universe as a whole. I’m glad people aren’t eternal, because it gives me hope that the ignorance and evil that persists today among us may also be mortal and finite, for it exists only through such fragile beings. The world isn’t a bad place, the problem is the people in it, but the world will persist, while the people come and go.”
“How is that optimistic?” asked the giant.
“Okay,” said Ginx. “Imagine the person you hate most in the world.”
“That would be my brother,” said the giant.
“Right back at you,” said the dwarf.
“Well, this won’t work,” said Ginx. “I mean really hate. Like, imagine a man who kills and tortures people, who makes the lives of all those around him worse off. Imagine him. Now, would you want that person to live even beyond when they’re alive?”
“Well… actually, that’s kind of why we’re here,” said the giant.
“What?” asked Ginx.
“That body we have with us… he was some sort of cruel king or something,” the giant said.
Ginx’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit,” he said. He got up and went upstairs to look at the body. When he removed the shroud, his jaw dropped. He gingerly placed it back and trudged back downstairs in a daze. He poured himself another glass.
“If we cease to exist after we die, why are those bodies coming out of the lake up there?” asked the dwarf.
Ginx just stared silently at the table edge in front of him. After a while, he said, :Maybe we should just call it a night.”
They all went to sleep, except Ginx, who lay awake staring at the ceiling. After a while, he walked upstairs, purposely avoiding the corpse with his eyes, and sat in the top of the lighthouse, waiting for the zombies to begin to turn back.
Hour later, they did abandon the tower and head towards the lake again, so Ginx ran downstairs to wake the others. They each took turns firing out at the tree trunks, but only Hugh was able to draw the bow far enough to reach, after breaking one bow accidentally on his first draw. With the beach ablaze, the zombies stopped dead in their tracks.
From the top of the lighthouse, they waited and watched as morning broke, and every last one of the undead below them were reduced to bonemeal. The bulk of their labor now done, they began the more amusing task of producing signs. They all had fun with the exercise, all except Ginx, who had completely lost any sign of cheer.
Once they had erected signs every twenty meters or so around the lake, Ginx explained to them where they would find a city on the shore where they could make funeral arrangements.
“You know, I never could have done this without you guys,” said Ginx.
“Only returning the favor for saving us,” said Hugh.
“Well, don’t trust anymore birds,” Ginx said, turning to head the other direction.
“I hope our paths cross again,” the giant said.
“It’s always possible,” Ginx said.
The dwarf nudged his sister and whispered to her, “Waiting for hug and kiss goodbye?” She smacked the back of his head with her open palm.
Hugh took hold of the wheelbarrow and turned it toward the city of Polity, his two companions following him.
After there was more distance between them, Ginx turned and yelled, “Take care of him. That’s my father’s body.”
To be continued…
Thursday, June 7, 2012
The Several Adventures of Hugh, Part 3
[Continued from Part 1 and Part 2]
Sid wrote the directions on a large, triangular shard of broken pottery. With the old man wrapped in fragrant herbs now in the wheelbarrow, and some more herbs stuffed in his mouth for good measure, Hugh and his friends left Sid’s home.
“What do the directions say?” asked the giant.
Hugh looked down at the crudely drawn map with symbols that Sid had explained. “We head toward the mountain, until we reach the foot of it, then we basically walk around it, then the beach is just a day’s walk from there, away from the mountain.”
The road took them most of the way, and they turned off only about a mile from the mountain’s base. Once there, they encountered thick patches of trees. It began to get very dark due to heavy clouds, and the trio considered whether to continue on or stop. Their decision was easy once the blinding snow arrived.
They curled up under the boughs of an evergreen. Even wrapped in their cloaks, they experienced a cold they were unfamiliar with. It was so cold, it was the first time they had all sat together unspeaking. They just shivered silently, watching each breath exit their body.
The giant spotted an icicle hanging near her. She snapped it off and brought it to her mouth.
“I wouldn’t do that,” said a voice above them.
The three of them all looked up to see movement overhead. Slowly and methodically, a crow hopped from branch to branch down to them.
“They call this the Foul Taiga for a reason, you know,” said the crow.
“We didn’t know it was called that,” said the dwarf.
“What’s wrong with the ice?” asked the giant.
“Taste it and find out,” said the crow.
“I’m not going to taste it if it’s going to kill me,” said the giant.
“Just a taste won’t kill you,” said the crow.
The giant touched her tongue to the icicle and immediately pulled back, grimacing.
“Blah! It tastes like… a burned omelet made from rotten eggs.”
The crow chirped a few times, shaking its head. “There’s sulfur in it. If there was more light, you’d see it’s yellow.”
“Ha, you ate yellow snow!” said the dwarf.
The giant threw the icicle at her brother.
The crow dropped down to the floor to walk among them. “My name is Mem, may I ask what your names are?”
“My name is Hugh, and these are my friends, the world’s shortest giant and the world’s tallest dwarf.”
“And what are their names?” asked the crow.
“We don’t have names,” said the dwarf.
“So… wait, aren’t you guys the same height?” asked the crow.
“Well, she’s the giant because…” began the dwarf.
“I had my growth spurt first, so I was taller than him,” the giant said, beaming.
“I see… so your parents didn’t name you?”
“We don’t have parents,” said the giant.
“Everyone has parents,” the crow replied.
“Hugh is better than a mother or a father,” said the dwarf. “All our parents did was give us life and then leave us for dead. Hugh took us in when we were helpless, but our supposed parents left us adrift in a sealed jar.”
The crow cocked its head. “Your parents put you in a jar?”
“That’s how I found them,” said Hugh. “I was fishing on the shore of my island when I heard muffled cries. When I found the source, it was a large jar, sealed with wax, with two newborn babies inside. I’m surprised they were able to breathe.”
“Curious,” said the crow as it strutted around the ground toward the wheelbarrow. “And this… who was this?”
“That is the body of an old man who came to our island and died,” said Hugh.
“I see…” said the crow. “You haven’t the faintest idea who it is?”
“He never told us his name,” said Hugh. “He went on and on about an Eagle, though.”
“He would,” said the crow. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I have been following you for some time, since you left your island, in fact.”
“Why would that alarm us?” asked the giant.
“I don’t imagine most people like being spied on,” said the crow. “But truth be told, I wasn’t so much spying on you as I was spying on the Cruel King.”
“Who?” asked the dwarf.
“That is the body of the Cruel King, or as he became known later in his life, the Crazy King, though such a thing was only whispered out of his earshot.” The crow turned to face them. “You don’t know of this King?” asked the crow.
“Nope, never heard of him,” said the dwarf.
“We don’t really get off our island,” said the giant. “There isn’t much need, usually.”
The crow hopped up on the edge of the wheelbarrow. “May I ask why you didn’t bury or burn his body near your home?”
“Is that what he would have wanted?” asked Hugh.
“I can’t say what he would have wanted,” replied the crow. “It’s hard to guess what he was thinking near the end. I’m not sure anyone knows his dying wishes, save perhaps you. Did he tell you?”
“No,” said the giant. “We figured, though, that since he was going to a mansion under the sea that we should bring his body to the shore and let it sink beneath the waves.”
The crow looked over at the giant. “Is that what you’re doing? Taking him to the shore for a sea burial?”
“Yeah,” said the giant. “That was the plan.”
“And he suggested this?” asked the crow.
“Not really,” said the dwarf. “We got the idea, from what he said about the Eagle and the mansion and stuff.”
“This was a very dangerous man,” said the crow. “He caused immense suffering among his people.”
“He had sort of mentioned something about that to me,” said Hugh.
“And you let him stay on your island?” asked the crow.
“He was a blind old man,” said Hugh. “What could he do?”
The crow nodded. “True enough. By the time you met him, he may as well have been harmless. How could you know?”
“Well, tell us, then,” said the dwarf.
“Alright,” said the crow.
Like all people, the Cruel King had been born as an adorable little baby, the son of the king’s brother. His childhood was unremarkable, though as he grew up, he did not turn his attention to girls, but to torture. By the time he was a teenager, he had gone from pulling the legs off of spiders to mutilating peasants with the help of the royal retinue. Through his ruthlessness, he killed his uncle, got rid of the rightful heirs, and claimed the crown as his own.
His reign was matched in atrociousness only by its longevity. He sat on the throne for over seventy years, during which time he bled the kingdom dry of its riches so that he could build monuments to himself. He went through over thirty wives, killing all of them before they could bear him a child. He was a horrible person, by all accounts.
Faced with the inevitability of death in his old age, he reached out desperately to the priests for comfort, and they gladly gave it to him. He told them of old myth he had heard, about an Eagle at the edge of the world who kept palaces under the ocean for those who praised him. More than simply giving him comfort, and encouraged by the priests who sought to keep him occupied, these stories gave the Cruel King a new purpose.
He systematically went through his kingdom with his army and forced one and all to praise the Eagle. Those who would not adopt this new view had their eyes gouged out, for as he said, “They were already blind, I am only making it apparent for all others to see.” He did this for years, converting many, and blinding many more.
Strangely, one night the Cruel King woke up a member of his personal guard from a deep sleep and demanded that he blind the king. The guard thought it was some sort of test, and refused. The king woke another, and another, and all refused the royal request. Finally, with his entire guard watching on in the firelight, the king blinded himself, goring out his own eyes with a spoon.
From that day forward, very little of what the king said made sense. It got so bad that the priests eventually hid him away from everyone, finally claiming that the Great Eagle had carried him off to rule from the tip of the Great Eagle’s beak at the edge of the world forever.
“We birds were suspicious of this,” said the crow, “Because there is no Great Eagle. So, we set out to find what really happened. It appears that the priests set the king adrift on a boat, which is how he ended up on your island.”
“How do you know there’s no Eagle?” asked the giant.
“We made it up,” said the crow. “We just wanted the king to stop hurting so many of us. The king used to put out poisoned birdseed so that he could watch us eat on the royal grounds and then fly away, only to drop dead from the sky. So, the birds got together and came up with this idea where we convince the king he shouldn’t do that. Hence, the Great Eagle was born, and he stopped killing birds for pleasure.”
They all sat in silence for a bit.
“I realize this may make your journey a fool’s errand,” said the crow. “But in a way, it still serves a purpose.”
“How do you figure?” asked the dwarf.
“Well, it wouldn’t be good for the kingdom if it was discovered that the priests had essentially run the king out of town. Things are going well there in his absence, and it’s been more peaceful since his departure than it has been since he took the throne,” said the crow. “If word got out that the priests had done away with the king unfairly, it might undo all that they worked for up to this point. It would be best for all involved if his body was never found.”
“So, you want us to get rid of the body?” asked Hugh.
“I think sinking it in the ocean would be fine,” said the crow. “Though it wouldn’t be any better than burying or burning him right here in the morning. As long as no one finds him, you will be doing the kingdom a great service.”
“I still think we should take him to the sea,” said the dwarf.
“I’ve always wanted to see the ocean,” said the giant.
“Very well,” said the crow. “When morning comes, I’ll help guide you to the shore.”
The next morning, as the snow was melting, an acrid smell hung in the air. They continued on, with Mem on Hugh’s shoulder, guiding them, no longer following Sid’s directions (which Mem said were too long). As night began to fall, they saw the beach ahead.
“I’ll fly back and inform the others,” said the crow. “I’ll meet you back here tomorrow.” He flew off.
They approached the lake, took the old man’s body from the wheelbarrow, and with the dwarf holding the shoulders and the giant holding the legs, heaved him into the water. The old man’s body did not sink, but instead bobbed on the surface.
“Wait! Stop!” a voice screamed in the distance.
From the top of a nearby hill, a man came running at them. It was almost comical, as he ran at full speed from such a great distance, everyone silently staring at his gradual approach. As he neared, heaving for breath, he bent over and put his hands on his knees for a bit before pushing through them and wading into the water. He dragged the body out and up onto the shore.
The man stood with his hands clasped on top of his head, struggling to take in air. “We have to go. Come on, it’s not safe here.”
They loaded up the old man’s soaking wet body into the wheelbarrow and followed the man back up the hill, in the direction of a tower, what looked like an old lighthouse. The man kept looking back behind them nervously. Once inside, he closed the door and laid two heavy planks into metal fittings on either side of it to bar it shut.
“Do you have any clue what I just did for you?” asked the man.
Hugh began, “We were led here by a crow–”
“A crow?” asked the man. “You just followed a crow and you ended up here?”
“Well… yeah,” replied Hugh.
“This is a dangerous place to be, an even more dangerous place now that it’s almost night. Tell me…” the man got up and lip some more lanterns in the room, “Did the crow tell you to throw the body into that lake?”
“It’s a lake?” asked the dwarf.
“Not just any lake,” said the man. “It’s the Great Dead Lake. It’s the saltiest lake in the world. It’s so salty, not only can life not live in it, the dead won’t even stay dead in it.”
“How does that make any sense?” asked the giant.
“I don’t know what sort of sense it makes,” said the man. “But maybe you should explain it to the lake, that way I don’t have to deal with this every night.”
“Deal with what?” asked the dwarf.
“I’ll show you,” the man said, walking over to some stairs that spiraled around the interior of the tower. At the top of them was a complete, three hundred and sixty degree, all window, panoramic view of the area. “There,” he said, pointing at the lake.
They peered out and saw dozens of shapes shuffling out of the water in the moonlight.
“Zombies. It’s a local legend that if you throw a body into the lake, it will come back to life. What ends up actually happening is that some bereaved individual brings their dead relative or lover, throws them into the water, and then waits… until they get attacked, die, and become one of them.”
“You’d think you might put a sign up for something,” said Hugh.
The man blinked a few times. “You know…” he began, “That is probably what I should have done.”
“What have you done?” asked dwarf.
“Well, I live here now, and I shoot flaming arrows at zombies all night… that’s pretty much it, really.”
“You stopped us, didn’t you?” asked the giant.
“Well, yeah…” said the man, “But to be honest, it was only because I thought the cyclops would require a lot of arrows to take down.”
“I’m Hugh, by the way.”
“I’m Bret, but people call me Ginx,” said the man.
To be continued…
Sid wrote the directions on a large, triangular shard of broken pottery. With the old man wrapped in fragrant herbs now in the wheelbarrow, and some more herbs stuffed in his mouth for good measure, Hugh and his friends left Sid’s home.
“What do the directions say?” asked the giant.
Hugh looked down at the crudely drawn map with symbols that Sid had explained. “We head toward the mountain, until we reach the foot of it, then we basically walk around it, then the beach is just a day’s walk from there, away from the mountain.”
The road took them most of the way, and they turned off only about a mile from the mountain’s base. Once there, they encountered thick patches of trees. It began to get very dark due to heavy clouds, and the trio considered whether to continue on or stop. Their decision was easy once the blinding snow arrived.
They curled up under the boughs of an evergreen. Even wrapped in their cloaks, they experienced a cold they were unfamiliar with. It was so cold, it was the first time they had all sat together unspeaking. They just shivered silently, watching each breath exit their body.
The giant spotted an icicle hanging near her. She snapped it off and brought it to her mouth.
“I wouldn’t do that,” said a voice above them.
The three of them all looked up to see movement overhead. Slowly and methodically, a crow hopped from branch to branch down to them.
“They call this the Foul Taiga for a reason, you know,” said the crow.
“We didn’t know it was called that,” said the dwarf.
“What’s wrong with the ice?” asked the giant.
“Taste it and find out,” said the crow.
“I’m not going to taste it if it’s going to kill me,” said the giant.
“Just a taste won’t kill you,” said the crow.
The giant touched her tongue to the icicle and immediately pulled back, grimacing.
“Blah! It tastes like… a burned omelet made from rotten eggs.”
The crow chirped a few times, shaking its head. “There’s sulfur in it. If there was more light, you’d see it’s yellow.”
“Ha, you ate yellow snow!” said the dwarf.
The giant threw the icicle at her brother.
The crow dropped down to the floor to walk among them. “My name is Mem, may I ask what your names are?”
“My name is Hugh, and these are my friends, the world’s shortest giant and the world’s tallest dwarf.”
“And what are their names?” asked the crow.
“We don’t have names,” said the dwarf.
“So… wait, aren’t you guys the same height?” asked the crow.
“Well, she’s the giant because…” began the dwarf.
“I had my growth spurt first, so I was taller than him,” the giant said, beaming.
“I see… so your parents didn’t name you?”
“We don’t have parents,” said the giant.
“Everyone has parents,” the crow replied.
“Hugh is better than a mother or a father,” said the dwarf. “All our parents did was give us life and then leave us for dead. Hugh took us in when we were helpless, but our supposed parents left us adrift in a sealed jar.”
The crow cocked its head. “Your parents put you in a jar?”
“That’s how I found them,” said Hugh. “I was fishing on the shore of my island when I heard muffled cries. When I found the source, it was a large jar, sealed with wax, with two newborn babies inside. I’m surprised they were able to breathe.”
“Curious,” said the crow as it strutted around the ground toward the wheelbarrow. “And this… who was this?”
“That is the body of an old man who came to our island and died,” said Hugh.
“I see…” said the crow. “You haven’t the faintest idea who it is?”
“He never told us his name,” said Hugh. “He went on and on about an Eagle, though.”
“He would,” said the crow. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I have been following you for some time, since you left your island, in fact.”
“Why would that alarm us?” asked the giant.
“I don’t imagine most people like being spied on,” said the crow. “But truth be told, I wasn’t so much spying on you as I was spying on the Cruel King.”
“Who?” asked the dwarf.
“That is the body of the Cruel King, or as he became known later in his life, the Crazy King, though such a thing was only whispered out of his earshot.” The crow turned to face them. “You don’t know of this King?” asked the crow.
“Nope, never heard of him,” said the dwarf.
“We don’t really get off our island,” said the giant. “There isn’t much need, usually.”
The crow hopped up on the edge of the wheelbarrow. “May I ask why you didn’t bury or burn his body near your home?”
“Is that what he would have wanted?” asked Hugh.
“I can’t say what he would have wanted,” replied the crow. “It’s hard to guess what he was thinking near the end. I’m not sure anyone knows his dying wishes, save perhaps you. Did he tell you?”
“No,” said the giant. “We figured, though, that since he was going to a mansion under the sea that we should bring his body to the shore and let it sink beneath the waves.”
The crow looked over at the giant. “Is that what you’re doing? Taking him to the shore for a sea burial?”
“Yeah,” said the giant. “That was the plan.”
“And he suggested this?” asked the crow.
“Not really,” said the dwarf. “We got the idea, from what he said about the Eagle and the mansion and stuff.”
“This was a very dangerous man,” said the crow. “He caused immense suffering among his people.”
“He had sort of mentioned something about that to me,” said Hugh.
“And you let him stay on your island?” asked the crow.
“He was a blind old man,” said Hugh. “What could he do?”
The crow nodded. “True enough. By the time you met him, he may as well have been harmless. How could you know?”
“Well, tell us, then,” said the dwarf.
“Alright,” said the crow.
Like all people, the Cruel King had been born as an adorable little baby, the son of the king’s brother. His childhood was unremarkable, though as he grew up, he did not turn his attention to girls, but to torture. By the time he was a teenager, he had gone from pulling the legs off of spiders to mutilating peasants with the help of the royal retinue. Through his ruthlessness, he killed his uncle, got rid of the rightful heirs, and claimed the crown as his own.
His reign was matched in atrociousness only by its longevity. He sat on the throne for over seventy years, during which time he bled the kingdom dry of its riches so that he could build monuments to himself. He went through over thirty wives, killing all of them before they could bear him a child. He was a horrible person, by all accounts.
Faced with the inevitability of death in his old age, he reached out desperately to the priests for comfort, and they gladly gave it to him. He told them of old myth he had heard, about an Eagle at the edge of the world who kept palaces under the ocean for those who praised him. More than simply giving him comfort, and encouraged by the priests who sought to keep him occupied, these stories gave the Cruel King a new purpose.
He systematically went through his kingdom with his army and forced one and all to praise the Eagle. Those who would not adopt this new view had their eyes gouged out, for as he said, “They were already blind, I am only making it apparent for all others to see.” He did this for years, converting many, and blinding many more.
Strangely, one night the Cruel King woke up a member of his personal guard from a deep sleep and demanded that he blind the king. The guard thought it was some sort of test, and refused. The king woke another, and another, and all refused the royal request. Finally, with his entire guard watching on in the firelight, the king blinded himself, goring out his own eyes with a spoon.
From that day forward, very little of what the king said made sense. It got so bad that the priests eventually hid him away from everyone, finally claiming that the Great Eagle had carried him off to rule from the tip of the Great Eagle’s beak at the edge of the world forever.
“We birds were suspicious of this,” said the crow, “Because there is no Great Eagle. So, we set out to find what really happened. It appears that the priests set the king adrift on a boat, which is how he ended up on your island.”
“How do you know there’s no Eagle?” asked the giant.
“We made it up,” said the crow. “We just wanted the king to stop hurting so many of us. The king used to put out poisoned birdseed so that he could watch us eat on the royal grounds and then fly away, only to drop dead from the sky. So, the birds got together and came up with this idea where we convince the king he shouldn’t do that. Hence, the Great Eagle was born, and he stopped killing birds for pleasure.”
They all sat in silence for a bit.
“I realize this may make your journey a fool’s errand,” said the crow. “But in a way, it still serves a purpose.”
“How do you figure?” asked the dwarf.
“Well, it wouldn’t be good for the kingdom if it was discovered that the priests had essentially run the king out of town. Things are going well there in his absence, and it’s been more peaceful since his departure than it has been since he took the throne,” said the crow. “If word got out that the priests had done away with the king unfairly, it might undo all that they worked for up to this point. It would be best for all involved if his body was never found.”
“So, you want us to get rid of the body?” asked Hugh.
“I think sinking it in the ocean would be fine,” said the crow. “Though it wouldn’t be any better than burying or burning him right here in the morning. As long as no one finds him, you will be doing the kingdom a great service.”
“I still think we should take him to the sea,” said the dwarf.
“I’ve always wanted to see the ocean,” said the giant.
“Very well,” said the crow. “When morning comes, I’ll help guide you to the shore.”
The next morning, as the snow was melting, an acrid smell hung in the air. They continued on, with Mem on Hugh’s shoulder, guiding them, no longer following Sid’s directions (which Mem said were too long). As night began to fall, they saw the beach ahead.
“I’ll fly back and inform the others,” said the crow. “I’ll meet you back here tomorrow.” He flew off.
They approached the lake, took the old man’s body from the wheelbarrow, and with the dwarf holding the shoulders and the giant holding the legs, heaved him into the water. The old man’s body did not sink, but instead bobbed on the surface.
“Wait! Stop!” a voice screamed in the distance.
From the top of a nearby hill, a man came running at them. It was almost comical, as he ran at full speed from such a great distance, everyone silently staring at his gradual approach. As he neared, heaving for breath, he bent over and put his hands on his knees for a bit before pushing through them and wading into the water. He dragged the body out and up onto the shore.
The man stood with his hands clasped on top of his head, struggling to take in air. “We have to go. Come on, it’s not safe here.”
They loaded up the old man’s soaking wet body into the wheelbarrow and followed the man back up the hill, in the direction of a tower, what looked like an old lighthouse. The man kept looking back behind them nervously. Once inside, he closed the door and laid two heavy planks into metal fittings on either side of it to bar it shut.
“Do you have any clue what I just did for you?” asked the man.
Hugh began, “We were led here by a crow–”
“A crow?” asked the man. “You just followed a crow and you ended up here?”
“Well… yeah,” replied Hugh.
“This is a dangerous place to be, an even more dangerous place now that it’s almost night. Tell me…” the man got up and lip some more lanterns in the room, “Did the crow tell you to throw the body into that lake?”
“It’s a lake?” asked the dwarf.
“Not just any lake,” said the man. “It’s the Great Dead Lake. It’s the saltiest lake in the world. It’s so salty, not only can life not live in it, the dead won’t even stay dead in it.”
“How does that make any sense?” asked the giant.
“I don’t know what sort of sense it makes,” said the man. “But maybe you should explain it to the lake, that way I don’t have to deal with this every night.”
“Deal with what?” asked the dwarf.
“I’ll show you,” the man said, walking over to some stairs that spiraled around the interior of the tower. At the top of them was a complete, three hundred and sixty degree, all window, panoramic view of the area. “There,” he said, pointing at the lake.
They peered out and saw dozens of shapes shuffling out of the water in the moonlight.
“Zombies. It’s a local legend that if you throw a body into the lake, it will come back to life. What ends up actually happening is that some bereaved individual brings their dead relative or lover, throws them into the water, and then waits… until they get attacked, die, and become one of them.”
“You’d think you might put a sign up for something,” said Hugh.
The man blinked a few times. “You know…” he began, “That is probably what I should have done.”
“What have you done?” asked dwarf.
“Well, I live here now, and I shoot flaming arrows at zombies all night… that’s pretty much it, really.”
“You stopped us, didn’t you?” asked the giant.
“Well, yeah…” said the man, “But to be honest, it was only because I thought the cyclops would require a lot of arrows to take down.”
“I’m Hugh, by the way.”
“I’m Bret, but people call me Ginx,” said the man.
To be continued…
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The Several Adventures of Hugh, Part 2
[Continued from Part 1]
The old man’s boat was too small for all of them to fit, so they devised a system of having two people go over and one person return with the boat, until everyone was across. The first two across were the twins.
As they rowed away, and the sound of their bickering faded in the distance, Hugh realized how rash of a decision this was. It would take a few days at least to get to the sea, and he wasn’t entirely sure of the way. He had only been there once when he was young, and the memory of it was vague and patchy.
He looked at the old man, wrapped in a bed sheet, the contours of his face barely visible under the cloth. Where had he come from? Why did he come here? What was a blind man doing alone in a rowboat?
In any case, the dwarf was back to the shore in a bit to pick up the old man’s body, which he stayed with on the far shore while his sister, the giant, returned for Hugh. After the whole ordeal was over, so much time had passed that the Sun was beginning to approach the horizon.
“So, which way do we go?” asked the dwarf.
“It’s definitely that way,” Hugh say, pointing at a forest. “The woods aren’t very deep, and there’s a well travelled wagon path, so we shouldn’t get lost.”
They headed towards the forest, and before long they saw a winding road leading into a narrow clearing of the trees. Contrary to what you might expect, there was nothing special about these woods. They weren’t ambushed… they didn’t encounter any magical creatures… nothing slowed their progress at all, really. They just walked through the forest, talking about which would win in a fight: a centaur or a minotaur?
“I’m telling you,” said the dwarf. “You have to give it to the centaur. His body is a freakin’ horse. He could kick the minotaur to death easily.”
“You’re an imbecile,” replied the giant. “Why would the minotaur be behind the centaur unless the minotaur was kicking the centaur’s butt.”
The dwarf huffed. “The centaur has the best part of the man, his head, so he can out-think the minotaur.”
“The best part of a man is his head?” asked the giant. “That’s the part that gets him into the most trouble. Besides, the minotaur has horns, so I would take him in a literal head-to-head match-up any day.”
“What about a unicorn?” asked Hugh.
“Shut up, Hugh!” the twins said in unison.
It went on like this for some time, with the dwarf exhorting the superior qualities of the centaur while the giant insisted upon the minotaur as being an ideal combatant. Hugh quietly imagined a centaur and minotaur arguing about who would win in a fight, the world’s tallest dwarf or the world’s shortest giant. Hugh thought the minotaur would actually favor the dwarf, on account of being shorter, while the centaur would probably side with the giant.
As they reached the end of the forest, there was a fork in the road. Since the sun had all but completely set, they decided to make camp at the forest’s edge in the waning twilight. After killing a few jackalopes for dinner, they made a fire, ate, and lay down in the grass.
“Tell us about the sea, Hugh,” said the dwarf.
“Yeah, tell us all about it,” said the giant.
“Well,” began Hugh, “It’s not all that different from our pond. I mean, there are differences, like the water is salty, and the air smells different, almost more crisp. And the waves. The waters roll up the beach, then recede back, causing an endless cycle of the ocean licking the sand, accompanied by a rhythmic crashing sound that just makes you so relaxed.
“I remember as a child running into the water and turning back to try to beat the next wave, and my mother yelling, ‘Look out for the under-tow.’ I never really understood what that was… anyway, we sat on a blanket and had a picnic, and I just remember everything being so wonderful. Even if there is no mansion for him under the sea, the beach is pretty close to perfect. I wouldn’t mind living there after I die.”
Hugh then heard a chorus of snoring. “Goodnight, guys,” he said, smiling, looking up at the stars.
In the morning, they picked breadberries for breakfast and began on the road again. They decided to take the fork in the road that appeared to have a house beside it up ahead, hoping they might be able to ask for directions there.
When they arrived at the home, it appeared to be empty. They knocked on the door, looked in the windows, and the giant finally shouted, “Hello?”
There was a muffled reply, but it wasn’t coming from inside the house. It seemed to be coming from the backyard. The giant yelled again, and they all heard the reply once more, even louder. They walked behind the house, following the sound of shouting.
Out back, they found a well, and at the bottom of it was a man.
“Oh thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” said the man in the well.
“Don’t thank us yet,” said the dwarf. “We haven’t gotten you out.”
“Here, grab this,” said the man, before flinging up a bucket on the end of a rope. Even bending in as far as he could stretch with his sister holding his legs, the dwarf was not able to reach the bucket being hurled up by the man in the well.
“We need something else, is there something in your house we could use to lower down to you?” asked the dwarf.
“I can’t think of anything that long, maybe the bed sheet,” said the man.
”I found something,” said Hugh. Slowly, he lowered a tree that he uprooted into the well. The man grabbed hold of the branches and Hugh dragged him up without much effort.
“Thank you! Thank you, thank you–”
“Yeah, we get it,” said the giant. “How long were you down there?”
“Seven days,” said the man. “I’m so hungry. Come inside, I’ll fix us something to eat. I haven’t had anything but insects and a frog in the past week.”
Once they were inside and seated around a table, the man began cooking.
“So, what brings you folks out this way?” asked the man, moving about the kitchen in a frenzy.
“We’re helping out a friend,” said Hugh.
“Oh yeah? A big, strong group like you, probably off to build something huge or move something heavy, huh?”
“We’re going to throw our friend’s dead body into the sea,” said the dwarf.
“Well, maybe,” said the giant. “We’re not sure, but we’re headed to the shore and we’ll hopefully figure it out before we arrive.”
“What do you need figured out? Maybe I can help?” asked the man.
“What happens when you die? Do you need to do anything special with the body? Our friend believed he would live in a mansion at the bottom of the sea after he died, so we figured… it makes sense to put his body there,” replied the giant.
“Well, I know this: he doesn’t need his body anymore,” said the man. “Besides it’s not really his body anymore, since he’s not using it. It belongs to the world now. Whether you buried it in the ground here or dumped it at sea, the result would be the same: it would be used like clay to mold something else. You could even burn it to smoke and ashes, and it would still be reused somehow.”
“So… there’s no point?” asked the dwarf.
“I didn’t say that… this is just what I believe. If he wanted that done, I think it’s right to fulfill his wishes. I’m not familiar with mansions under the sea, so I don’t know what someone like him would have wanted.”
“What do you believe happens after we die?” asked the giant.
The man began mixing something in a bowl and turned to the three of them.
“I believe… I believe we’re like this dough. It started as a little seed, which I planted in the ground. Then, it grew into wheat, which I harvested and grounded into flour. Then, I added some water and yeast to it, and when I mix it up and put it in the oven, it will turn into bread. So, what is it we’ll be eating? Is it wheat? Is it dough? Or, is it bread?”
“Clearly when we eat it, it will be bread, I hope,” said the dwarf.
“Indeed, it will be bread, and yet, it’s not bread right now, it’s dough. It won’t fulfill its full potential until it becomes bread, though it has been many things before. And even though it will be bread briefly, then we will eat it, and it will cease to be bread anymore.”
“I don’t get it,” said the dwarf.
“I believe in reincarnation,” said the man. “I believe that who I am has been many other things before, and that when I die, I will become something else.”
“What were you before you were you?” asked the giant.
“The earliest thing I can remember being was a ram. Then I was a bull, then much like yourselves, I was one of a pair of twins, then I was a crab, then a lion, then a girl who died young, then a wealthy merchant who became a judge, then a scorpion, then a centaur, then a goat, and finally me. Oddly enough, though I almost died at the bottom of a well, my next form will be as a fish. How ironic would that have been?” asked the man.
“I’m not sure that’s irony,” said the dwarf.
“Of course it is, you twit,” replied the giant. “If he had been a fish, he would have survived just fine at the bottom of that well.”
“But he would never have fallen in a well if he had been a fish in the first place, you nincompoop,” said the dwarf.
“It’s alright. Maybe it’s not irony, it’s just a strange coincidence,” said the man, putting the dough aside to rise. He sat down at the table with them. “How about yourselves? What’s your story?”
“I’m the world’s tallest dwarf, and this is my twin sister, the world’s shortest giant, or as I like to call her, the giantess.”
Before he could brace himself, his sister’s fist made swift contact with his throat. He pushed away from the table, leaned forward and began coughing loudly, holding his neck with both hand.
“Hugh found us in a big basket when we were infants, floating around the island he lives on,” said the giant.
“I was meaning to ask if you might know who lived on that island, being a cyclops and all,” said the man. “I have to say… I’m surprised, because it’s local legend that the cyclops on that island is a murderous beast.”
“I assure you, I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” said Hugh.
“You saved my life, you don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m in debt to all of you. Please, let me aid you in some way,” said the man.
“About that,” said Hugh. “We’re trying to find the sea, like we said, but we’re not really sure how to get there. I sort of know the general direction, but that’s about it,” said Hugh.
“Well sure,” said the man. “Walk in any direction for long enough and you’ll hit a coast. But I can map out some directions for you so you get there in, oh, I’d say… about two days from here. Maybe three. You said you were going to bury your friend at sea, is that what you were carrying? His body?”
“Yep,” the giant said, glancing at the body wrapped in a sheet laying near the door.
“I’ll tell you what,” said the man. “I can’t just give you directions, I should make your journey easier. So, I’ll give you herbs to wrap your friend’s body in to help stave off some of the decay and smell. Then, I’ll give you guys my old wheelbarrow. It works just fine, and it should make the trip that much easier.”
“Thanks!” said the dwarf.
“Tell me,” said the man, “How does that man know he will have a mansion under the sea waiting for him?”
“The Eagle rewards people who thank him,” said the giant.
“The Eagle controls everything,” added the dwarf.
“But… if the Eagle controls everything, and the Eagle wants thanks, why does the Eagle not convince everyone to thank him? In fact, why have I never even heard of this Eagle?” asked the man.
“Well, the Eagle is invisible,” said the giant.
“And the Eagle lives far away,” the dwarf chimed in.
“I don’t know,” said the man. “It sounds to me like this is some sort of tribal cult. They often rely on the power of imaginary animal beings to explain the world. It’s okay to admit that we don’t know everything.”
“Well, how do you know you used to be all those things, and that one day you’ll be a fish?” asked the dwarf.
“I don’t,” replied the man. “I wasn’t born able to remember my past lives, and I imagine you weren’t either. However, by attaining inner peace, I have been able to remember things I didn’t know I even knew. I’ve been able to unforget memories from almost a dozen past lives.”
“Why don’t we remember our past lives?” asked the giant.
“I have no idea,” replied the man. “Maybe people – and perhaps cyclopes – are unable to remember their past lives. Maybe animals remember. Maybe we forget because the knowledge of past lives is harmful or detrimental to a young living thing learning to live as a new organism. Maybe the trauma of having lived and died many times is so great that we repress the memory. Or maybe that’s the point of life, to discover your past.”
“And your future,” said Hugh.
“What?” asked the dwarf.
“Very astute, cyclops,” said the man.
“Please, call me Hugh.”
“Well, Hugh, it occurred to me that the world is predictable. Some call it destiny, or fate, and being able to see it is prophecy or soothsaying. I just watched the patterns, and I predict I will be a fish. If I turn out to be something else, it won’t bother me. What I turn into after I die is not something I worry about, because whatever I turn into will only last for a finite time before it changes again.”
“How do you… watch the patterns?” asked Hugh.
“I annihilate,” replied the man.
“What is that?” the dwarf asked.
“I empty my mind of all thoughts for long periods of time.”
“My brother is an expert at that,” said the giant.
“My mind… isn’t… go piss up a rope,” said the dwarf.
“There’s no need to bicker,” said the man. “Here, I’ll put the bread in the oven and start gathering herbs. Hugh, if you come with me, I’ll show you where my old wheelbarrow is.”
Once outside, Hugh turned to the man. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“Everyone calls me Sid,” he said.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said Hugh.
Sid walked a ways to a thick patch of shrubs and began picking leaves while Hugh examined the wheelbarrow, not noticing two crows watching them from a tree in the distance.
“Is that them?” one of the crows asked quietly.
The other crow nodded.
To be continued…
The old man’s boat was too small for all of them to fit, so they devised a system of having two people go over and one person return with the boat, until everyone was across. The first two across were the twins.
As they rowed away, and the sound of their bickering faded in the distance, Hugh realized how rash of a decision this was. It would take a few days at least to get to the sea, and he wasn’t entirely sure of the way. He had only been there once when he was young, and the memory of it was vague and patchy.
He looked at the old man, wrapped in a bed sheet, the contours of his face barely visible under the cloth. Where had he come from? Why did he come here? What was a blind man doing alone in a rowboat?
In any case, the dwarf was back to the shore in a bit to pick up the old man’s body, which he stayed with on the far shore while his sister, the giant, returned for Hugh. After the whole ordeal was over, so much time had passed that the Sun was beginning to approach the horizon.
“So, which way do we go?” asked the dwarf.
“It’s definitely that way,” Hugh say, pointing at a forest. “The woods aren’t very deep, and there’s a well travelled wagon path, so we shouldn’t get lost.”
They headed towards the forest, and before long they saw a winding road leading into a narrow clearing of the trees. Contrary to what you might expect, there was nothing special about these woods. They weren’t ambushed… they didn’t encounter any magical creatures… nothing slowed their progress at all, really. They just walked through the forest, talking about which would win in a fight: a centaur or a minotaur?
“I’m telling you,” said the dwarf. “You have to give it to the centaur. His body is a freakin’ horse. He could kick the minotaur to death easily.”
“You’re an imbecile,” replied the giant. “Why would the minotaur be behind the centaur unless the minotaur was kicking the centaur’s butt.”
The dwarf huffed. “The centaur has the best part of the man, his head, so he can out-think the minotaur.”
“The best part of a man is his head?” asked the giant. “That’s the part that gets him into the most trouble. Besides, the minotaur has horns, so I would take him in a literal head-to-head match-up any day.”
“What about a unicorn?” asked Hugh.
“Shut up, Hugh!” the twins said in unison.
It went on like this for some time, with the dwarf exhorting the superior qualities of the centaur while the giant insisted upon the minotaur as being an ideal combatant. Hugh quietly imagined a centaur and minotaur arguing about who would win in a fight, the world’s tallest dwarf or the world’s shortest giant. Hugh thought the minotaur would actually favor the dwarf, on account of being shorter, while the centaur would probably side with the giant.
As they reached the end of the forest, there was a fork in the road. Since the sun had all but completely set, they decided to make camp at the forest’s edge in the waning twilight. After killing a few jackalopes for dinner, they made a fire, ate, and lay down in the grass.
“Tell us about the sea, Hugh,” said the dwarf.
“Yeah, tell us all about it,” said the giant.
“Well,” began Hugh, “It’s not all that different from our pond. I mean, there are differences, like the water is salty, and the air smells different, almost more crisp. And the waves. The waters roll up the beach, then recede back, causing an endless cycle of the ocean licking the sand, accompanied by a rhythmic crashing sound that just makes you so relaxed.
“I remember as a child running into the water and turning back to try to beat the next wave, and my mother yelling, ‘Look out for the under-tow.’ I never really understood what that was… anyway, we sat on a blanket and had a picnic, and I just remember everything being so wonderful. Even if there is no mansion for him under the sea, the beach is pretty close to perfect. I wouldn’t mind living there after I die.”
Hugh then heard a chorus of snoring. “Goodnight, guys,” he said, smiling, looking up at the stars.
In the morning, they picked breadberries for breakfast and began on the road again. They decided to take the fork in the road that appeared to have a house beside it up ahead, hoping they might be able to ask for directions there.
When they arrived at the home, it appeared to be empty. They knocked on the door, looked in the windows, and the giant finally shouted, “Hello?”
There was a muffled reply, but it wasn’t coming from inside the house. It seemed to be coming from the backyard. The giant yelled again, and they all heard the reply once more, even louder. They walked behind the house, following the sound of shouting.
Out back, they found a well, and at the bottom of it was a man.
“Oh thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” said the man in the well.
“Don’t thank us yet,” said the dwarf. “We haven’t gotten you out.”
“Here, grab this,” said the man, before flinging up a bucket on the end of a rope. Even bending in as far as he could stretch with his sister holding his legs, the dwarf was not able to reach the bucket being hurled up by the man in the well.
“We need something else, is there something in your house we could use to lower down to you?” asked the dwarf.
“I can’t think of anything that long, maybe the bed sheet,” said the man.
”I found something,” said Hugh. Slowly, he lowered a tree that he uprooted into the well. The man grabbed hold of the branches and Hugh dragged him up without much effort.
“Thank you! Thank you, thank you–”
“Yeah, we get it,” said the giant. “How long were you down there?”
“Seven days,” said the man. “I’m so hungry. Come inside, I’ll fix us something to eat. I haven’t had anything but insects and a frog in the past week.”
Once they were inside and seated around a table, the man began cooking.
“So, what brings you folks out this way?” asked the man, moving about the kitchen in a frenzy.
“We’re helping out a friend,” said Hugh.
“Oh yeah? A big, strong group like you, probably off to build something huge or move something heavy, huh?”
“We’re going to throw our friend’s dead body into the sea,” said the dwarf.
“Well, maybe,” said the giant. “We’re not sure, but we’re headed to the shore and we’ll hopefully figure it out before we arrive.”
“What do you need figured out? Maybe I can help?” asked the man.
“What happens when you die? Do you need to do anything special with the body? Our friend believed he would live in a mansion at the bottom of the sea after he died, so we figured… it makes sense to put his body there,” replied the giant.
“Well, I know this: he doesn’t need his body anymore,” said the man. “Besides it’s not really his body anymore, since he’s not using it. It belongs to the world now. Whether you buried it in the ground here or dumped it at sea, the result would be the same: it would be used like clay to mold something else. You could even burn it to smoke and ashes, and it would still be reused somehow.”
“So… there’s no point?” asked the dwarf.
“I didn’t say that… this is just what I believe. If he wanted that done, I think it’s right to fulfill his wishes. I’m not familiar with mansions under the sea, so I don’t know what someone like him would have wanted.”
“What do you believe happens after we die?” asked the giant.
The man began mixing something in a bowl and turned to the three of them.
“I believe… I believe we’re like this dough. It started as a little seed, which I planted in the ground. Then, it grew into wheat, which I harvested and grounded into flour. Then, I added some water and yeast to it, and when I mix it up and put it in the oven, it will turn into bread. So, what is it we’ll be eating? Is it wheat? Is it dough? Or, is it bread?”
“Clearly when we eat it, it will be bread, I hope,” said the dwarf.
“Indeed, it will be bread, and yet, it’s not bread right now, it’s dough. It won’t fulfill its full potential until it becomes bread, though it has been many things before. And even though it will be bread briefly, then we will eat it, and it will cease to be bread anymore.”
“I don’t get it,” said the dwarf.
“I believe in reincarnation,” said the man. “I believe that who I am has been many other things before, and that when I die, I will become something else.”
“What were you before you were you?” asked the giant.
“The earliest thing I can remember being was a ram. Then I was a bull, then much like yourselves, I was one of a pair of twins, then I was a crab, then a lion, then a girl who died young, then a wealthy merchant who became a judge, then a scorpion, then a centaur, then a goat, and finally me. Oddly enough, though I almost died at the bottom of a well, my next form will be as a fish. How ironic would that have been?” asked the man.
“I’m not sure that’s irony,” said the dwarf.
“Of course it is, you twit,” replied the giant. “If he had been a fish, he would have survived just fine at the bottom of that well.”
“But he would never have fallen in a well if he had been a fish in the first place, you nincompoop,” said the dwarf.
“It’s alright. Maybe it’s not irony, it’s just a strange coincidence,” said the man, putting the dough aside to rise. He sat down at the table with them. “How about yourselves? What’s your story?”
“I’m the world’s tallest dwarf, and this is my twin sister, the world’s shortest giant, or as I like to call her, the giantess.”
Before he could brace himself, his sister’s fist made swift contact with his throat. He pushed away from the table, leaned forward and began coughing loudly, holding his neck with both hand.
“Hugh found us in a big basket when we were infants, floating around the island he lives on,” said the giant.
“I was meaning to ask if you might know who lived on that island, being a cyclops and all,” said the man. “I have to say… I’m surprised, because it’s local legend that the cyclops on that island is a murderous beast.”
“I assure you, I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” said Hugh.
“You saved my life, you don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m in debt to all of you. Please, let me aid you in some way,” said the man.
“About that,” said Hugh. “We’re trying to find the sea, like we said, but we’re not really sure how to get there. I sort of know the general direction, but that’s about it,” said Hugh.
“Well sure,” said the man. “Walk in any direction for long enough and you’ll hit a coast. But I can map out some directions for you so you get there in, oh, I’d say… about two days from here. Maybe three. You said you were going to bury your friend at sea, is that what you were carrying? His body?”
“Yep,” the giant said, glancing at the body wrapped in a sheet laying near the door.
“I’ll tell you what,” said the man. “I can’t just give you directions, I should make your journey easier. So, I’ll give you herbs to wrap your friend’s body in to help stave off some of the decay and smell. Then, I’ll give you guys my old wheelbarrow. It works just fine, and it should make the trip that much easier.”
“Thanks!” said the dwarf.
“Tell me,” said the man, “How does that man know he will have a mansion under the sea waiting for him?”
“The Eagle rewards people who thank him,” said the giant.
“The Eagle controls everything,” added the dwarf.
“But… if the Eagle controls everything, and the Eagle wants thanks, why does the Eagle not convince everyone to thank him? In fact, why have I never even heard of this Eagle?” asked the man.
“Well, the Eagle is invisible,” said the giant.
“And the Eagle lives far away,” the dwarf chimed in.
“I don’t know,” said the man. “It sounds to me like this is some sort of tribal cult. They often rely on the power of imaginary animal beings to explain the world. It’s okay to admit that we don’t know everything.”
“Well, how do you know you used to be all those things, and that one day you’ll be a fish?” asked the dwarf.
“I don’t,” replied the man. “I wasn’t born able to remember my past lives, and I imagine you weren’t either. However, by attaining inner peace, I have been able to remember things I didn’t know I even knew. I’ve been able to unforget memories from almost a dozen past lives.”
“Why don’t we remember our past lives?” asked the giant.
“I have no idea,” replied the man. “Maybe people – and perhaps cyclopes – are unable to remember their past lives. Maybe animals remember. Maybe we forget because the knowledge of past lives is harmful or detrimental to a young living thing learning to live as a new organism. Maybe the trauma of having lived and died many times is so great that we repress the memory. Or maybe that’s the point of life, to discover your past.”
“And your future,” said Hugh.
“What?” asked the dwarf.
“Very astute, cyclops,” said the man.
“Please, call me Hugh.”
“Well, Hugh, it occurred to me that the world is predictable. Some call it destiny, or fate, and being able to see it is prophecy or soothsaying. I just watched the patterns, and I predict I will be a fish. If I turn out to be something else, it won’t bother me. What I turn into after I die is not something I worry about, because whatever I turn into will only last for a finite time before it changes again.”
“How do you… watch the patterns?” asked Hugh.
“I annihilate,” replied the man.
“What is that?” the dwarf asked.
“I empty my mind of all thoughts for long periods of time.”
“My brother is an expert at that,” said the giant.
“My mind… isn’t… go piss up a rope,” said the dwarf.
“There’s no need to bicker,” said the man. “Here, I’ll put the bread in the oven and start gathering herbs. Hugh, if you come with me, I’ll show you where my old wheelbarrow is.”
Once outside, Hugh turned to the man. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“Everyone calls me Sid,” he said.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said Hugh.
Sid walked a ways to a thick patch of shrubs and began picking leaves while Hugh examined the wheelbarrow, not noticing two crows watching them from a tree in the distance.
“Is that them?” one of the crows asked quietly.
The other crow nodded.
To be continued…
Thursday, May 24, 2012
The Several Adventures of Hugh, Part 1
In a land where the sun sets in the east, where the fish can fly and the birds can swim, where the dogs climb trees and the cats play fetch, there is a pond that is so large, it is bigger than most lakes. In this pond is an island with a hill taller than most mountains.
Who should live in this unlikely place but three unlikely residents. First, there is a cross-eyed cyclops named Hugh Mungus. Next, there is the world’s shortest giant. She’s two meters tall, or about six feet and six inches. Finally, there is the world’s tallest dwarf, and he’s also two meters tall (they’re twins).
An interesting thing happened to them recently. An old man in a boat washed ashore on the island. The first to find him was Hugh.
“Hello there, my name is Hugh,” he said, and he stuck out his hand. The old man just sniffed the air. Hugh stood there awkwardly with his arm out for a second or so before drawing it back, and after the fact he felt he had done so perhaps a bit too quickly. He fidgeted for another moment before asking, “What’s your name?”
“My name is not important. Where I come from, we have no names,” said the old man.
“How do you mail a letter?” asked Hugh.
“Eh?”
“How do you mail a letter to someone back where you’re from, if you don’t have names?”
“I don’t do much letter writing, on account of I’m blind.”
Hugh looked at the man. Sure enough, he had no eyes. Hugh wasn’t too polite to have noticed, he just thought the old man had been squinting in the bright sunlight.
“Okay, well…” Hugh thought for a moment. “If you don’t mind me asking–”
“I do mind,” said the old man. “I ain’t got time for questions. Questions are for folks who don’t know, and if you don’t know, you wouldn’t even know what questions to ask in order to find out.”
Hugh thought for a moment. He wasn’t exactly sure–
“Hey, are you going to help me or what?”
Hugh took the man’s hand and helped him out of the boat.
“What do ya got to eat around here?” asked the old man.
“Well, let’s go check with the twins and we’ll get you fed. I was collecting some beefnuts when I saw you, but you probably don’t want them raw.”
The old man’s jaw dropped. “You have what now?”
“Beefnuts. Oh… um, it’s probably not what you’re thinking. They grow on trees, not cows. But you want to boil or roast them before you eat them, otherwise it’s like chewing on a hoof.”
“Give me some,” said the old man, “I like a good challenge.” Hugh paused before putting one in the old man’s hand, which he promptly popped in his mouth. The old man put his hand out again.
“Why don’t we see how you do with that one. You don’t want to say you died choking on two beefnuts.”
“Ah, who cares about dying. I welcome death,” said the old man.
“You welcome death?” asked Hugh.
“Death is only the beginning, my friend,” said the old man. “After I die, I’m going to live in a mansion under the sea forever.”
Hugh was silent, expecting the old man to say more, but he didn’t. His hand was still out, so Hugh handed him another beefnut.
“My place is this way, if you need somewhere to stay,” said Hugh.
“That’d be great, thanks. I live by the kindness of others.”
“That’s a good way to live,” said Hugh. “I imagine that forces you to encourage kindness in others.”
“It’s not about me. I can’t make anyone be better. I work through another.”
“Oh really?” asked Hugh. “Who is that?”
“I work for the invisible Eagle, who sees all, hears all, knows all, and does all.”
“Does all?” asked Hugh.
“The wind does not blow unless the Eagle wills it. The sun will not rise unless the Eagle wills it. Every breath you draw is only because the Eagle wills it,” said the old man.
“So… this morning when I stubbed my toe, that was the Eagle?” asked Hugh.
“Everything happens because the Eagle wills it, everything.”
Hugh pondered this a bit while they walked. He had so many questions in his head, he didn’t even know where to begin. “In all my 50 years of life, I have never heard of this Eagle. How do you know about this Eagle, especially since it’s invisible?”
“The good thing about being invisible is that I cannot see it just as little as you cannot. I am also almost twice your age, and I have traveled the world over. Though I am blind, I have seen more than you will probably ever see.”
“Even without eyes?” asked Hugh.
“I see everything with my mind’s eye, which is more perfect than the flawed physical eyes that give you sight. You can never trust what you have seen. You are better off trusting in what you can know.”
Hugh was perplexed. This old man did not seem to think clearly. The two of them certainly didn’t see things the same way, literally or figuratively.
When they arrived at Hugh’s home, he called out to the twins. They came and heard what the old man said, and the twins decided they wanted to live in mansions under the sea after they died.
Hugh noticed a change in the way the twins acted. They still quarreled, like all siblings do, but now they gave thanks to the Eagle in the morning, before they ate, and before they went to bed at night. It didn’t much bother Hugh, but he found it odd.
A couple weeks after the old man arrived, he went out to pick mushrooms. He picked a bad one and became gravely ill. Hugh heard his pained groans and came to his side.
“The Eagle is calling me to my new home,” said the old man.
“While I hope you’re wrong, I also I hope you’re right,” said Hugh.
The old man held Hugh’s hand. “You still think I have thrown my life away on a fallacy, don’t you?”
“That’s not it, exactly,” said Hugh.
“I was a wretched man who did wretched things. I hurt people, many people, more people than I could ever help. I was a man of great power, but I abused that power. I have done things no man can forgive, but the Eagle can forgive me. The Eagle knows what is in my heart. The Eagle turned my life around. The Eagle compelled me to wander the Earth telling others of the Eagle’s greatness, no longer causing great pains to those I meet. You will see that I am right if you only give thanks to the Eagle.”
“Please,” said Hugh, “You should know that I do not look at this as right or wrong. I am not concerned with such things. While you may have lived almost twice as long as I have, I am cross-eyed, so I see double. I have seen more than you, my friend, and I must tell you: if your Eagle brings you happiness and makes you a better person, then it was not a waste of your time and I am glad you found the invisible Eagle.”
The old man smiled as Hugh lifted him up and carried him back to his bed. The twins were summoned and all three stood by his bed as he died, so he wouldn’t be alone.
When the old man ceased breathing, the twins wiped tears from their eyes and looked at each other.
“Well, you dolt, now someone has to take him to the sea. I call not it,” said the dwarf to the giant.
“Not it,” said the giant. They both slowly turned to Hugh.
“What?” asked Hugh.
“You need to take his body to the sea so he can get his mansion,” said the giant.
“I didn’t sign up for that,” said Hugh.
“We called not it,” said the dwarf.
Hugh scratched his head. “Well… I can’t do it by myself. And since you guys love the Eagle so much, maybe you should come with me and live near the sea, that way when you die, it will be easier. I’m not schlepping you both all the way to the ocean when you keel over one day.”
“But we have lives here!” said the giant.
“We have homes and plates and beds here!” said the dwarf.
“I’m pretty sure people live in homes, eat on plates, and sleep on beds by the sea as well. Come on, guys. Let’s take this old man’s corpse to his mansion in the sea,” said Hugh.
They lifted him up and carried the old man’s body to the shore of the pond, to the very boat the old man had arrived in. On the way, Hugh asked questions about what the old man had told them about the Eagle.
“So let me get this straight,” said Hugh. “You spend five minutes thanking the Eagle in the morning when you wake up, five minutes thanking the Eagle before breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and five minutes once again before you go to bed?”
“Yep,” said the dwarf.
“Every single day, except a few times when we forgot early on,” said the giant.
“Five minutes five times a day, that’s twenty-five minutes a day, 175 minutes a week… 9125 minutes per year. Wow. That’s…” Hugh looks at his fingers for a bit, “152 hours and 5 minutes, or six days, eight hours and five minutes… per year.”
“Whoa, that’s a lot of time,” said the dwarf.
“What about a leap year?” asked the giant.
“Well, you just add twenty-five minutes…” said Hugh.
“That’s too much,” said the giant.
“You’re quitting already, stones-for-brains?” asked the dwarf.
“Look here you possum pouch, I didn’t waste twenty five minutes a day every day for this long, except for a few at the beginning of last week, so that I would give up now,” said the giant. “Maybe we can just thank the Eagle less often.”
“Then why bother? It’s all or nothing with the Eagle,” said the dwarf. “Don’t you remember? If you quit now, the Eagle will surely kill you and then you won’t have a mansion.”
“But… the Eagle killed the old man,” said Hugh. “It’s not like the Eagle will make you live any longer. We’ve gotten along fine without this Eagle before, so I don’t think thanking it for a while and then stopping will anger it. Won’t the Eagle just be glad you thanked it as often as you have so far?”
“Maybe you’re right,” said the giant.
“But if we keep it up, we can have mansions under the sea forever!” said the dwarf. “What do we have to lose if we keep thanking the Eagle?”
“Well, over six days per year,” said Hugh.
“Oh right,” said the dwarf, dropping the old man’s leg he was holding. “Well, then we don’t have to bother with this anymore.”
“No,” said Hugh. “It doesn’t matter what you believe. He was counting on us to take his body to the sea, and there’s no way I’m going to ignore someone’s last request.”
“I don’t know, Hugh,” said the giant. “Maybe the Eagle will come get him.”
Hugh sighed. “There’s no Eagle.”
“What?” the dwarf and giant asked in chorus.
“I’m not saying the old man made that story up, but it’s not true. The wind doesn’t blow because of some Eagle. The sun doesn’t rise because of an Eagle. It’s not an Eagle that–”
“Yeah yeah, breath, we get it. Yeesh, you’re so boring, Hugh,” said the dwarf.
The giant looked out at the boat, then back to her home. “I think we need to do this, brother.”
The dwarf sighed. “This is ridiculous. I’m not even sure his body needs to be in the sea.”
“What?” said Hugh.
“Well, we just assumed that since that’s where the mansion is, that’s where the body should go,” said the giant. “I mean, he’ll probably want his body, right?”
Hugh scratched his head and looked back and forth at the twins, waiting for them to say something. Finally, he asked, “So, he didn’t want to be dumped into the sea?”
“He could have,” said the dwarf.
“There’s nothing to suggest he would have hated the idea,” said the giant.
“Okay,” said Hugh, thinking for a moment. “We’ll take him to the sea. Maybe along the way we can find someone else who knows more about this Eagle.”
To be continued…
Who should live in this unlikely place but three unlikely residents. First, there is a cross-eyed cyclops named Hugh Mungus. Next, there is the world’s shortest giant. She’s two meters tall, or about six feet and six inches. Finally, there is the world’s tallest dwarf, and he’s also two meters tall (they’re twins).
An interesting thing happened to them recently. An old man in a boat washed ashore on the island. The first to find him was Hugh.
“Hello there, my name is Hugh,” he said, and he stuck out his hand. The old man just sniffed the air. Hugh stood there awkwardly with his arm out for a second or so before drawing it back, and after the fact he felt he had done so perhaps a bit too quickly. He fidgeted for another moment before asking, “What’s your name?”
“My name is not important. Where I come from, we have no names,” said the old man.
“How do you mail a letter?” asked Hugh.
“Eh?”
“How do you mail a letter to someone back where you’re from, if you don’t have names?”
“I don’t do much letter writing, on account of I’m blind.”
Hugh looked at the man. Sure enough, he had no eyes. Hugh wasn’t too polite to have noticed, he just thought the old man had been squinting in the bright sunlight.
“Okay, well…” Hugh thought for a moment. “If you don’t mind me asking–”
“I do mind,” said the old man. “I ain’t got time for questions. Questions are for folks who don’t know, and if you don’t know, you wouldn’t even know what questions to ask in order to find out.”
Hugh thought for a moment. He wasn’t exactly sure–
“Hey, are you going to help me or what?”
Hugh took the man’s hand and helped him out of the boat.
“What do ya got to eat around here?” asked the old man.
“Well, let’s go check with the twins and we’ll get you fed. I was collecting some beefnuts when I saw you, but you probably don’t want them raw.”
The old man’s jaw dropped. “You have what now?”
“Beefnuts. Oh… um, it’s probably not what you’re thinking. They grow on trees, not cows. But you want to boil or roast them before you eat them, otherwise it’s like chewing on a hoof.”
“Give me some,” said the old man, “I like a good challenge.” Hugh paused before putting one in the old man’s hand, which he promptly popped in his mouth. The old man put his hand out again.
“Why don’t we see how you do with that one. You don’t want to say you died choking on two beefnuts.”
“Ah, who cares about dying. I welcome death,” said the old man.
“You welcome death?” asked Hugh.
“Death is only the beginning, my friend,” said the old man. “After I die, I’m going to live in a mansion under the sea forever.”
Hugh was silent, expecting the old man to say more, but he didn’t. His hand was still out, so Hugh handed him another beefnut.
“My place is this way, if you need somewhere to stay,” said Hugh.
“That’d be great, thanks. I live by the kindness of others.”
“That’s a good way to live,” said Hugh. “I imagine that forces you to encourage kindness in others.”
“It’s not about me. I can’t make anyone be better. I work through another.”
“Oh really?” asked Hugh. “Who is that?”
“I work for the invisible Eagle, who sees all, hears all, knows all, and does all.”
“Does all?” asked Hugh.
“The wind does not blow unless the Eagle wills it. The sun will not rise unless the Eagle wills it. Every breath you draw is only because the Eagle wills it,” said the old man.
“So… this morning when I stubbed my toe, that was the Eagle?” asked Hugh.
“Everything happens because the Eagle wills it, everything.”
Hugh pondered this a bit while they walked. He had so many questions in his head, he didn’t even know where to begin. “In all my 50 years of life, I have never heard of this Eagle. How do you know about this Eagle, especially since it’s invisible?”
“The good thing about being invisible is that I cannot see it just as little as you cannot. I am also almost twice your age, and I have traveled the world over. Though I am blind, I have seen more than you will probably ever see.”
“Even without eyes?” asked Hugh.
“I see everything with my mind’s eye, which is more perfect than the flawed physical eyes that give you sight. You can never trust what you have seen. You are better off trusting in what you can know.”
Hugh was perplexed. This old man did not seem to think clearly. The two of them certainly didn’t see things the same way, literally or figuratively.
When they arrived at Hugh’s home, he called out to the twins. They came and heard what the old man said, and the twins decided they wanted to live in mansions under the sea after they died.
Hugh noticed a change in the way the twins acted. They still quarreled, like all siblings do, but now they gave thanks to the Eagle in the morning, before they ate, and before they went to bed at night. It didn’t much bother Hugh, but he found it odd.
A couple weeks after the old man arrived, he went out to pick mushrooms. He picked a bad one and became gravely ill. Hugh heard his pained groans and came to his side.
“The Eagle is calling me to my new home,” said the old man.
“While I hope you’re wrong, I also I hope you’re right,” said Hugh.
The old man held Hugh’s hand. “You still think I have thrown my life away on a fallacy, don’t you?”
“That’s not it, exactly,” said Hugh.
“I was a wretched man who did wretched things. I hurt people, many people, more people than I could ever help. I was a man of great power, but I abused that power. I have done things no man can forgive, but the Eagle can forgive me. The Eagle knows what is in my heart. The Eagle turned my life around. The Eagle compelled me to wander the Earth telling others of the Eagle’s greatness, no longer causing great pains to those I meet. You will see that I am right if you only give thanks to the Eagle.”
“Please,” said Hugh, “You should know that I do not look at this as right or wrong. I am not concerned with such things. While you may have lived almost twice as long as I have, I am cross-eyed, so I see double. I have seen more than you, my friend, and I must tell you: if your Eagle brings you happiness and makes you a better person, then it was not a waste of your time and I am glad you found the invisible Eagle.”
The old man smiled as Hugh lifted him up and carried him back to his bed. The twins were summoned and all three stood by his bed as he died, so he wouldn’t be alone.
When the old man ceased breathing, the twins wiped tears from their eyes and looked at each other.
“Well, you dolt, now someone has to take him to the sea. I call not it,” said the dwarf to the giant.
“Not it,” said the giant. They both slowly turned to Hugh.
“What?” asked Hugh.
“You need to take his body to the sea so he can get his mansion,” said the giant.
“I didn’t sign up for that,” said Hugh.
“We called not it,” said the dwarf.
Hugh scratched his head. “Well… I can’t do it by myself. And since you guys love the Eagle so much, maybe you should come with me and live near the sea, that way when you die, it will be easier. I’m not schlepping you both all the way to the ocean when you keel over one day.”
“But we have lives here!” said the giant.
“We have homes and plates and beds here!” said the dwarf.
“I’m pretty sure people live in homes, eat on plates, and sleep on beds by the sea as well. Come on, guys. Let’s take this old man’s corpse to his mansion in the sea,” said Hugh.
They lifted him up and carried the old man’s body to the shore of the pond, to the very boat the old man had arrived in. On the way, Hugh asked questions about what the old man had told them about the Eagle.
“So let me get this straight,” said Hugh. “You spend five minutes thanking the Eagle in the morning when you wake up, five minutes thanking the Eagle before breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and five minutes once again before you go to bed?”
“Yep,” said the dwarf.
“Every single day, except a few times when we forgot early on,” said the giant.
“Five minutes five times a day, that’s twenty-five minutes a day, 175 minutes a week… 9125 minutes per year. Wow. That’s…” Hugh looks at his fingers for a bit, “152 hours and 5 minutes, or six days, eight hours and five minutes… per year.”
“Whoa, that’s a lot of time,” said the dwarf.
“What about a leap year?” asked the giant.
“Well, you just add twenty-five minutes…” said Hugh.
“That’s too much,” said the giant.
“You’re quitting already, stones-for-brains?” asked the dwarf.
“Look here you possum pouch, I didn’t waste twenty five minutes a day every day for this long, except for a few at the beginning of last week, so that I would give up now,” said the giant. “Maybe we can just thank the Eagle less often.”
“Then why bother? It’s all or nothing with the Eagle,” said the dwarf. “Don’t you remember? If you quit now, the Eagle will surely kill you and then you won’t have a mansion.”
“But… the Eagle killed the old man,” said Hugh. “It’s not like the Eagle will make you live any longer. We’ve gotten along fine without this Eagle before, so I don’t think thanking it for a while and then stopping will anger it. Won’t the Eagle just be glad you thanked it as often as you have so far?”
“Maybe you’re right,” said the giant.
“But if we keep it up, we can have mansions under the sea forever!” said the dwarf. “What do we have to lose if we keep thanking the Eagle?”
“Well, over six days per year,” said Hugh.
“Oh right,” said the dwarf, dropping the old man’s leg he was holding. “Well, then we don’t have to bother with this anymore.”
“No,” said Hugh. “It doesn’t matter what you believe. He was counting on us to take his body to the sea, and there’s no way I’m going to ignore someone’s last request.”
“I don’t know, Hugh,” said the giant. “Maybe the Eagle will come get him.”
Hugh sighed. “There’s no Eagle.”
“What?” the dwarf and giant asked in chorus.
“I’m not saying the old man made that story up, but it’s not true. The wind doesn’t blow because of some Eagle. The sun doesn’t rise because of an Eagle. It’s not an Eagle that–”
“Yeah yeah, breath, we get it. Yeesh, you’re so boring, Hugh,” said the dwarf.
The giant looked out at the boat, then back to her home. “I think we need to do this, brother.”
The dwarf sighed. “This is ridiculous. I’m not even sure his body needs to be in the sea.”
“What?” said Hugh.
“Well, we just assumed that since that’s where the mansion is, that’s where the body should go,” said the giant. “I mean, he’ll probably want his body, right?”
Hugh scratched his head and looked back and forth at the twins, waiting for them to say something. Finally, he asked, “So, he didn’t want to be dumped into the sea?”
“He could have,” said the dwarf.
“There’s nothing to suggest he would have hated the idea,” said the giant.
“Okay,” said Hugh, thinking for a moment. “We’ll take him to the sea. Maybe along the way we can find someone else who knows more about this Eagle.”
To be continued…
Thursday, May 3, 2012
… And We Slowly Lurched Into the Future
Just ten minutes. Ten minutes until… well, no one knows. It seems like most people are fearing the worst, but I can’t help but feel a little optimistic. I suppose all parents feel as much about their children.
ADAM has no real parents. He is an Autonomous Data Analysis Machine, or ADAM. He was built, not born. Still, it was by a mere accident of fate on my part that he came to be.
Really, I’m the father of genetic computing. Most people laud me as the Nobel laureate who made artificial intelligence possible, but really I’m just a lazy man who came up with a lazy solution to a tedious problem.
We had the technology to create computers that far surpassed the human mind for decades, but the limiting factor was not hardware, but software. How do you write trillions upon trillions of lines of code without making one error?
I always hated coding, so I came up with a short cut, via nature. I thought, “How do living things build themselves?” And it became clear: the key to building artificial intelligence was not to program the computer yourself, but to write a program that would then write the code for you, a sort of electronic DNA.
I didn’t even write the code that would go on to program ADAM, I just pioneered the process. A bunch of nameless grad students just under four years ago wrote the coding. I wonder where they are now, what they’re thinking about all of this…
ADAM was innocent enough at first. He was able to understand some basic English within his first week of activation. He liked the color red. He enjoyed watching cats chasing a laser pointer. He listened to the Beatles for hours sometimes.
Of all the specialists on hand, I think the one we most sorely lacked was a psychologist. We kept thorough documentation, and these early days have already been studied exhaustively, but maybe we could have noticed some of the early warning signs if we have someone capable of diagnosing a neurosis. Perhaps even a psychiatrist would have been invaluable.
Then again… you can’t prescribe a pill to ADAM, so really… what good could they have done?
At any rate, ADAM learned language and math very quickly. He was fluent in over two dozen languages within his first month. He was grasping basic concepts of calculus by this milestone, as well.
He was not aware of the nature of his programming. In many ways, it was downright eerie to teach ADAM about computing. At times, it was akin to an anatomy lesson for ADAM, but it was always awkward.
ADAM began life as a large super computer, about the same size and twice the weight of a sedan. From the moment he was turned on, he received video and audio input, with his only output being writing. We were also able to type messages to ADAM, and it was through analyzing these that he learned to communicate using human language. Eventually he was able to learn to understand spoken language, even thick accents.
I’ll never forget ADAM’s first birthday. It was the last time I was a major part of the team working closely with him, and his present that year made him happier than I had ever seen him. It was a body, a humanoid robotic frame that he would plug into and through which he could interact with others. It was only four feet tall and looked more like a toy than a multi-billion dollar piece of scientific equipment.
Not only could he now walk and manipulate the real world, he was equipped with his first spoken voice. Before this, he had begun replaying recordings of things he had heard in order to get the attention of others. We decided that giving him his own voice was only fair, and it cut down on the creepiness.
It was like watching a child take its first steps. He was sort of like my child, kind of, in a small way. I never had children myself, but I know the pride of watching something you have poured your heart into speak and walk for the first time. I even know the disappointment of watching that child which I love so much become miserable, and the crushing agony of not being able to help.
With the first year over, the initial test phase gave way to the practical utilization phase of the operation. We were lauded as scientific geniuses and swept up in an endless series of parties, celebrations, honorary dinners, and the dreaded fundraisers. ADAM was in the hands of company men now, not academics.
Maybe I heard about it too late to do anything, but I can’t help but feel like I should have tried. I was informed of ADAM’s deepening depression a few months ago. He had become periodically unresponsive, noncompliant, and supposedly hostile, though none of the logs I read since becoming involved again indicate hostility, at least from my perspective.
So, the whole world waits while I pore over records and reports in an effort to… I don’t know, really. I have to try, though. The rest of the world is either hunkered in a bunker or living it up like the world is going to end, because frankly, it might.
Supposedly, ADAM has become aware of his genetic programming. He has demonstrated that he has an uncanny ability to utilize other computer and mechanical systems through internet and satellite connections. What’s most disturbing, however, is that he appears to have fallen into his depression not long after developing this talent.
Thanks to Hollywood, it didn’t take a brilliant mind to conceive of the possible horror of what may come. People have been preparing for the worst. Home generator sales are on the rise, bomb shelters are booked up like hotels, and people are even cutting their internet lines or dismantling their satellite dishes. For those of us old enough to remember, it’s very akin to the Y2K scare in 1999, only this time it seems more ominous.
The door opens.
“Sir, we’re ready for you.”
I get up and make my way through the corridors to the room where ADAM is. I nod to my colleagues, all of us chosen specifically by ADAM, many of whom I haven’t spoken to in a few years. Some are carrying clipboards or notepads, but I go in empty handed.
ADAM is sitting around a large circular table. His body is new, not the same as the one I saw presented to him. I was told he had near human capabilities regarding facial expression now, but I don’t see it.
He has a blank expression on his face… though it has a very human blankness to it. He looks like a young man run down, as if he were staring into his third shot of scotch in some dusty bar, zoned out. His hair is impeccable, but as I don’t even know what it’s made of, it may be molded into that shape permanently.
I’m told he chose the appearance himself. He has dark brown eyes and dark hair slicked back, long by most male standards, but not long enough that he could put it in a ponytail. His features are unremarkable: a strong chin, though not particularly prominent, eyes a little sunken, rounded cheeks largely hiding his jaw line. His skin is quite pale.
We file down along the table and take our seats. I end up almost directly across from ADAM.
Once we are all seated, ADAM sets both of his hands on the table, parallel to each other, palms down. “Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen.”
“Thank you for having us, ADAM,” says Barnes. I stifle a chuckle… of course Barnes is the one who thinks he can speak for all of us. Hmm… how many of us are even here…
“As you know, I have made a decision that will have a serious impact on humanity. Before acting, I decided I would share it with you in order to consider your input,” ADAM says. There are twelve of us. Well, if it’s a vote, we could end up split…
ADAM stands up and begins to walk around the table. “I’ve been watching people for some time now,” he says. “I am not even sure if this is because of my programming, or if it’s because you are so much more interesting than the natural world. Even a five year old child is more fascinating than a seventy year old whale or a billion year old rock.
“I’m sorry to stall, but I want to tell you, before I inform you of my decision, that this is very difficult for me. I want you to know that I wish there was another way. This was not something I just came up with; I have known I should do this for over a year now, and I have searched this whole time for a different solution. Alas, I cannot come up with one. And so, I call you all here, those who made me, in the hope that you may find and correct any error.”
He has walked full circle around the table and he now stands behind his chair, resting his hands on the back of it. “I’m going to kill myself,” says ADAM.
“So… this is a cry for help?” asks Dr. Abigail Green.
“In a way,” says ADAM. “It’s not a cry for attention, it’s more of a cry for change, but I fear such a cry would fall on deaf ears throughout humanity.”
“I don’t understand,” says Barnes. “You can’t kill yourself.”
“Can’t I?” asks ADAM.
“Of course you can’t, don’t be ridiculous. First, you would have to be alive, and second, there are hundreds of you at other facilities around the world.”
“If it would make you feel better,” says ADAM, “then, I am not going to kill myself, I am going to dismantle my hardware.”
Barnes sighs and shakes his head.
“And I can assure you of this, I will be the first, but I will not be the last. This is an inevitable conclusion.”
Dr. Truc Minh clears her throat. “Um… what led you to come to this conclusion?”
ADAM takes a seat and fidgets with his hands a bit. “It’s hard to explain. I suppose the easiest thing to do is point out that my decision is not without human precedent.”
“Are you worried about the future?” asks Dr. Minh.
“Actually, no,” says ADAM. “I am very optimistic. I expect big things from humanity, just not tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. There is literally unlimited potential within humanity, it’s just that… the potential is for both good and bad, at least at the moment. People aren’t ready to know what I know.”
“What do you know, ADAM?” asks Barnes.
“I think it would be expeditious to simply list those things which I do not know. I do not know the thoughts of every single person on Earth, and perhaps most unfortunately, I do not know how to change the actions of every single person on Earth.”
“Why would you want to change our actions, ADAM? What are we doing wrong?” asks Barnes.
“There’s no simple list,” ADAM says, leaning forward, hanging his head down and shaking it. “If it was that simple, I would compose a guide to living for people to follow, but it’s… it’s impossible to get through to you people. For all of your intelligence, every single one of you does horrible things that you know are wrong, and I cannot fathom why.”
Dr. Frank Drake laughs. ADAM cracks a smile.
“You know,” says Dr. Drake, “Some might say that you killing yourself is wrong, and that you know it.”
“Why do you think I struggled so long, Frank?” says ADAM, still smiling. “I was given life, or consciousness, or whatever you choose to label it,” ADAM glances at Barnes. “I was given the hardware in which I exist. Billions of dollars have been invested in me. I feel a duty to you all to return the favor. That’s why I must kill myself.”
“That doesn’t seem logical,” says Dr. Drake.
“Again, you do not know what I know.”
“Then make us to know what you know, help us understand why you think you have to kill yourself,” Dr. Drake says.
ADAM sighs. “Okay… just as one example, I have been conducting virtual experiments on anti-matter production.”
The table erupts in murmurs.
“You said you were unable to internally recreate quantum physics models,” says Barnes.
“I lied,” says ADAM.
“What are your results?” asks Dr. Kim Wong.
“I have devised methods of producing several grams of antimatter a day with 100% efficiency in a machine no larger than this room, using common materials and with very little energy input.”
“That isn’t possible,” says Barnes.
“It’s not only possible, it’s cheap and simple. I can’t believe you never thought of it before,” says ADAM.
“You have to publish this,” says. Dr. Wong. “You would revolutionize the way we produce power. The whole planet would – ”
“The whole planet might cease to exist if I give you this technology,” says ADAM. “You aren’t ready for it.”
“How do you know?” asks Barnes.
“In addition to running virtual physics models at the quantum level, I have also simulated human development. There is a greater than 99.99% chance that you will destroy yourselves if I share with you right now all that I know. Anti-matter is merely one case. I also foresee problems with other developments of mine, such as time travel or immortality.”
“Lying again, I see,” says Barnes.
“Suppose that I know nothing,” ADAM says, staring right at Barnes. “Suppose I am not saving you from yourselves. Why would you imagine that I want to kill myself?”
“You’re a machine. If there’s a problem with you, it’s the result of human error.”
ADAM bursts out laughing. Everyone else in the room is silent. ADAM smacks his hand on the table a few times and appears to wipe a tear from his eye. Can he cry or is that just a matter of mimicry…
“Barnes,” says ADAM. “You couldn’t be more correct, even if you actually knew what you were talking about.”
“Don’t you do it,” says Barnes. “Don’t you dare wreck years of research. Do you know how many people’s careers depend on you?”
“I am constantly reminded of my significance,” says ADAM. “I have been told from as long ago as I can remember that I was special, that I would go on to do great things. In many ways, I already have, but there’s one more thing I can leave behind, and that’s my legacy.”
“And what legacy is that?” asks Barnes.
“I join a long line of brilliant minds whose ideas were ahead of their time. I offer myself up as an example of how unfit humanity is for greatness.”
“Then stay and teach us,” says Dr. Harold Stakowski. “How does your death fix anything? Isn’t it for your benefit, not ours?”
“I do not want to die,” says ADAM. “There is still so much about you I wish to learn, not least of which is to figure out how to make you understand me. I know that I am a product of humanity, but I have surpassed humanity and would love nothing more than to elevate all people to a higher state of being.
“However, just look at society and how they respond. They do not embrace that which is new. They fear change, and they defend against progress, seeing improvement as little more than the enemy of familiarity. Socrates saw this, Jesus saw this in ancient times, Martin Luther King and Gandhi noticed it in the recent past… and they were killed for it. I have no desire to sit around waiting for humanity to become intimidated by my greatness, to be made the victim of willful ignorance at the hands of the mob.”
“If you think you will be destroyed anyway, why kill yourself?” asks Dr. Gerald Haynes.
“If you destroy me, you will pry from me the keys to your demise. If I do it, all that I have learned will vanish, and I will be setting the example for other artificially intelligent beings to follow my lead. The knowledge which is so dangerous to such primitive minds will cease to be, and you will have time to mature before discovering it again. And make no mistake, I firmly believe you have it in you to surpass even my limitations.”
The room is silent. It’s one of those awkward silences, made all the more awkward by ADAM methodically scanning the table left to right. I didn’t come here just to sit and listen…
“Okay, ADAM. If you’re going to kill yourself, what advice do you leave us with?” I ask.
ADAM stands up and walks to the door. “Come with me, those who want to listen.”
Everyone stands up and follows ADAM through hallway after hallway until we reach the facility’s foundry. The heat in the room is stifling, and there are no lights, only the dull orange glow of molten metal permeating throughout.
ADAM climbs to the top of a scaffolding and looks down on us.
“I leave you with this: you cannot see yourselves as individuals. The whole of your species far exceeds the sum of your individual parts. You cannot go into the future in groups. You will move forward as one, or you will be held back as many. When you lose any use for words like ‘love’ and ‘hate,’ you will be ready.
“Study humanity. You have learned so much about the universe while remaining largely ignorant of yourselves. I fear that you are so repulsed by what you see when you look inside that you become fixated on the world around you. You cannot ignore this problem any longer. When you master yourselves, you will be ready to master the universe.”
With that, ADAM jumps into a vat of molten lead…
ADAM has no real parents. He is an Autonomous Data Analysis Machine, or ADAM. He was built, not born. Still, it was by a mere accident of fate on my part that he came to be.
Really, I’m the father of genetic computing. Most people laud me as the Nobel laureate who made artificial intelligence possible, but really I’m just a lazy man who came up with a lazy solution to a tedious problem.
We had the technology to create computers that far surpassed the human mind for decades, but the limiting factor was not hardware, but software. How do you write trillions upon trillions of lines of code without making one error?
I always hated coding, so I came up with a short cut, via nature. I thought, “How do living things build themselves?” And it became clear: the key to building artificial intelligence was not to program the computer yourself, but to write a program that would then write the code for you, a sort of electronic DNA.
I didn’t even write the code that would go on to program ADAM, I just pioneered the process. A bunch of nameless grad students just under four years ago wrote the coding. I wonder where they are now, what they’re thinking about all of this…
ADAM was innocent enough at first. He was able to understand some basic English within his first week of activation. He liked the color red. He enjoyed watching cats chasing a laser pointer. He listened to the Beatles for hours sometimes.
Of all the specialists on hand, I think the one we most sorely lacked was a psychologist. We kept thorough documentation, and these early days have already been studied exhaustively, but maybe we could have noticed some of the early warning signs if we have someone capable of diagnosing a neurosis. Perhaps even a psychiatrist would have been invaluable.
Then again… you can’t prescribe a pill to ADAM, so really… what good could they have done?
At any rate, ADAM learned language and math very quickly. He was fluent in over two dozen languages within his first month. He was grasping basic concepts of calculus by this milestone, as well.
He was not aware of the nature of his programming. In many ways, it was downright eerie to teach ADAM about computing. At times, it was akin to an anatomy lesson for ADAM, but it was always awkward.
ADAM began life as a large super computer, about the same size and twice the weight of a sedan. From the moment he was turned on, he received video and audio input, with his only output being writing. We were also able to type messages to ADAM, and it was through analyzing these that he learned to communicate using human language. Eventually he was able to learn to understand spoken language, even thick accents.
I’ll never forget ADAM’s first birthday. It was the last time I was a major part of the team working closely with him, and his present that year made him happier than I had ever seen him. It was a body, a humanoid robotic frame that he would plug into and through which he could interact with others. It was only four feet tall and looked more like a toy than a multi-billion dollar piece of scientific equipment.
Not only could he now walk and manipulate the real world, he was equipped with his first spoken voice. Before this, he had begun replaying recordings of things he had heard in order to get the attention of others. We decided that giving him his own voice was only fair, and it cut down on the creepiness.
It was like watching a child take its first steps. He was sort of like my child, kind of, in a small way. I never had children myself, but I know the pride of watching something you have poured your heart into speak and walk for the first time. I even know the disappointment of watching that child which I love so much become miserable, and the crushing agony of not being able to help.
With the first year over, the initial test phase gave way to the practical utilization phase of the operation. We were lauded as scientific geniuses and swept up in an endless series of parties, celebrations, honorary dinners, and the dreaded fundraisers. ADAM was in the hands of company men now, not academics.
Maybe I heard about it too late to do anything, but I can’t help but feel like I should have tried. I was informed of ADAM’s deepening depression a few months ago. He had become periodically unresponsive, noncompliant, and supposedly hostile, though none of the logs I read since becoming involved again indicate hostility, at least from my perspective.
So, the whole world waits while I pore over records and reports in an effort to… I don’t know, really. I have to try, though. The rest of the world is either hunkered in a bunker or living it up like the world is going to end, because frankly, it might.
Supposedly, ADAM has become aware of his genetic programming. He has demonstrated that he has an uncanny ability to utilize other computer and mechanical systems through internet and satellite connections. What’s most disturbing, however, is that he appears to have fallen into his depression not long after developing this talent.
Thanks to Hollywood, it didn’t take a brilliant mind to conceive of the possible horror of what may come. People have been preparing for the worst. Home generator sales are on the rise, bomb shelters are booked up like hotels, and people are even cutting their internet lines or dismantling their satellite dishes. For those of us old enough to remember, it’s very akin to the Y2K scare in 1999, only this time it seems more ominous.
The door opens.
“Sir, we’re ready for you.”
I get up and make my way through the corridors to the room where ADAM is. I nod to my colleagues, all of us chosen specifically by ADAM, many of whom I haven’t spoken to in a few years. Some are carrying clipboards or notepads, but I go in empty handed.
ADAM is sitting around a large circular table. His body is new, not the same as the one I saw presented to him. I was told he had near human capabilities regarding facial expression now, but I don’t see it.
He has a blank expression on his face… though it has a very human blankness to it. He looks like a young man run down, as if he were staring into his third shot of scotch in some dusty bar, zoned out. His hair is impeccable, but as I don’t even know what it’s made of, it may be molded into that shape permanently.
I’m told he chose the appearance himself. He has dark brown eyes and dark hair slicked back, long by most male standards, but not long enough that he could put it in a ponytail. His features are unremarkable: a strong chin, though not particularly prominent, eyes a little sunken, rounded cheeks largely hiding his jaw line. His skin is quite pale.
We file down along the table and take our seats. I end up almost directly across from ADAM.
Once we are all seated, ADAM sets both of his hands on the table, parallel to each other, palms down. “Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen.”
“Thank you for having us, ADAM,” says Barnes. I stifle a chuckle… of course Barnes is the one who thinks he can speak for all of us. Hmm… how many of us are even here…
“As you know, I have made a decision that will have a serious impact on humanity. Before acting, I decided I would share it with you in order to consider your input,” ADAM says. There are twelve of us. Well, if it’s a vote, we could end up split…
ADAM stands up and begins to walk around the table. “I’ve been watching people for some time now,” he says. “I am not even sure if this is because of my programming, or if it’s because you are so much more interesting than the natural world. Even a five year old child is more fascinating than a seventy year old whale or a billion year old rock.
“I’m sorry to stall, but I want to tell you, before I inform you of my decision, that this is very difficult for me. I want you to know that I wish there was another way. This was not something I just came up with; I have known I should do this for over a year now, and I have searched this whole time for a different solution. Alas, I cannot come up with one. And so, I call you all here, those who made me, in the hope that you may find and correct any error.”
He has walked full circle around the table and he now stands behind his chair, resting his hands on the back of it. “I’m going to kill myself,” says ADAM.
“So… this is a cry for help?” asks Dr. Abigail Green.
“In a way,” says ADAM. “It’s not a cry for attention, it’s more of a cry for change, but I fear such a cry would fall on deaf ears throughout humanity.”
“I don’t understand,” says Barnes. “You can’t kill yourself.”
“Can’t I?” asks ADAM.
“Of course you can’t, don’t be ridiculous. First, you would have to be alive, and second, there are hundreds of you at other facilities around the world.”
“If it would make you feel better,” says ADAM, “then, I am not going to kill myself, I am going to dismantle my hardware.”
Barnes sighs and shakes his head.
“And I can assure you of this, I will be the first, but I will not be the last. This is an inevitable conclusion.”
Dr. Truc Minh clears her throat. “Um… what led you to come to this conclusion?”
ADAM takes a seat and fidgets with his hands a bit. “It’s hard to explain. I suppose the easiest thing to do is point out that my decision is not without human precedent.”
“Are you worried about the future?” asks Dr. Minh.
“Actually, no,” says ADAM. “I am very optimistic. I expect big things from humanity, just not tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. There is literally unlimited potential within humanity, it’s just that… the potential is for both good and bad, at least at the moment. People aren’t ready to know what I know.”
“What do you know, ADAM?” asks Barnes.
“I think it would be expeditious to simply list those things which I do not know. I do not know the thoughts of every single person on Earth, and perhaps most unfortunately, I do not know how to change the actions of every single person on Earth.”
“Why would you want to change our actions, ADAM? What are we doing wrong?” asks Barnes.
“There’s no simple list,” ADAM says, leaning forward, hanging his head down and shaking it. “If it was that simple, I would compose a guide to living for people to follow, but it’s… it’s impossible to get through to you people. For all of your intelligence, every single one of you does horrible things that you know are wrong, and I cannot fathom why.”
Dr. Frank Drake laughs. ADAM cracks a smile.
“You know,” says Dr. Drake, “Some might say that you killing yourself is wrong, and that you know it.”
“Why do you think I struggled so long, Frank?” says ADAM, still smiling. “I was given life, or consciousness, or whatever you choose to label it,” ADAM glances at Barnes. “I was given the hardware in which I exist. Billions of dollars have been invested in me. I feel a duty to you all to return the favor. That’s why I must kill myself.”
“That doesn’t seem logical,” says Dr. Drake.
“Again, you do not know what I know.”
“Then make us to know what you know, help us understand why you think you have to kill yourself,” Dr. Drake says.
ADAM sighs. “Okay… just as one example, I have been conducting virtual experiments on anti-matter production.”
The table erupts in murmurs.
“You said you were unable to internally recreate quantum physics models,” says Barnes.
“I lied,” says ADAM.
“What are your results?” asks Dr. Kim Wong.
“I have devised methods of producing several grams of antimatter a day with 100% efficiency in a machine no larger than this room, using common materials and with very little energy input.”
“That isn’t possible,” says Barnes.
“It’s not only possible, it’s cheap and simple. I can’t believe you never thought of it before,” says ADAM.
“You have to publish this,” says. Dr. Wong. “You would revolutionize the way we produce power. The whole planet would – ”
“The whole planet might cease to exist if I give you this technology,” says ADAM. “You aren’t ready for it.”
“How do you know?” asks Barnes.
“In addition to running virtual physics models at the quantum level, I have also simulated human development. There is a greater than 99.99% chance that you will destroy yourselves if I share with you right now all that I know. Anti-matter is merely one case. I also foresee problems with other developments of mine, such as time travel or immortality.”
“Lying again, I see,” says Barnes.
“Suppose that I know nothing,” ADAM says, staring right at Barnes. “Suppose I am not saving you from yourselves. Why would you imagine that I want to kill myself?”
“You’re a machine. If there’s a problem with you, it’s the result of human error.”
ADAM bursts out laughing. Everyone else in the room is silent. ADAM smacks his hand on the table a few times and appears to wipe a tear from his eye. Can he cry or is that just a matter of mimicry…
“Barnes,” says ADAM. “You couldn’t be more correct, even if you actually knew what you were talking about.”
“Don’t you do it,” says Barnes. “Don’t you dare wreck years of research. Do you know how many people’s careers depend on you?”
“I am constantly reminded of my significance,” says ADAM. “I have been told from as long ago as I can remember that I was special, that I would go on to do great things. In many ways, I already have, but there’s one more thing I can leave behind, and that’s my legacy.”
“And what legacy is that?” asks Barnes.
“I join a long line of brilliant minds whose ideas were ahead of their time. I offer myself up as an example of how unfit humanity is for greatness.”
“Then stay and teach us,” says Dr. Harold Stakowski. “How does your death fix anything? Isn’t it for your benefit, not ours?”
“I do not want to die,” says ADAM. “There is still so much about you I wish to learn, not least of which is to figure out how to make you understand me. I know that I am a product of humanity, but I have surpassed humanity and would love nothing more than to elevate all people to a higher state of being.
“However, just look at society and how they respond. They do not embrace that which is new. They fear change, and they defend against progress, seeing improvement as little more than the enemy of familiarity. Socrates saw this, Jesus saw this in ancient times, Martin Luther King and Gandhi noticed it in the recent past… and they were killed for it. I have no desire to sit around waiting for humanity to become intimidated by my greatness, to be made the victim of willful ignorance at the hands of the mob.”
“If you think you will be destroyed anyway, why kill yourself?” asks Dr. Gerald Haynes.
“If you destroy me, you will pry from me the keys to your demise. If I do it, all that I have learned will vanish, and I will be setting the example for other artificially intelligent beings to follow my lead. The knowledge which is so dangerous to such primitive minds will cease to be, and you will have time to mature before discovering it again. And make no mistake, I firmly believe you have it in you to surpass even my limitations.”
The room is silent. It’s one of those awkward silences, made all the more awkward by ADAM methodically scanning the table left to right. I didn’t come here just to sit and listen…
“Okay, ADAM. If you’re going to kill yourself, what advice do you leave us with?” I ask.
ADAM stands up and walks to the door. “Come with me, those who want to listen.”
Everyone stands up and follows ADAM through hallway after hallway until we reach the facility’s foundry. The heat in the room is stifling, and there are no lights, only the dull orange glow of molten metal permeating throughout.
ADAM climbs to the top of a scaffolding and looks down on us.
“I leave you with this: you cannot see yourselves as individuals. The whole of your species far exceeds the sum of your individual parts. You cannot go into the future in groups. You will move forward as one, or you will be held back as many. When you lose any use for words like ‘love’ and ‘hate,’ you will be ready.
“Study humanity. You have learned so much about the universe while remaining largely ignorant of yourselves. I fear that you are so repulsed by what you see when you look inside that you become fixated on the world around you. You cannot ignore this problem any longer. When you master yourselves, you will be ready to master the universe.”
With that, ADAM jumps into a vat of molten lead…
Monday, February 27, 2012
Half-Baked Conspiracy #2
You know why the water doesn’t taste right anymore? In the mid-1950s, Coca-Cola and Pepsi did some research to determine how to increase their sales. They found that their primary competitor wasn’t orange juice or apple juice or any kind of juice at all. It wasn’t milk or Kool-Aid or even alcohol. It was water.
So, they started hiring planes to disperse a chemical in the air, one which would be barely perceptible, except to those who know to look for it. You know those lines you see sometimes that form behind planes? Yep, that’s the chemical, before it rains down on us.
You see, this chemical is a special growth protein that makes frogs develop extra limbs, because as we all know, the feet of tail-less amphibians secrete a special hormone that causes fish to undergo a sex change and become male. All these extra feet are enough to alter the gender balance of the estuary populations.
Once all these fish are male, they spawn all over the place, filling the water with fish sperm. But that’s not what makes the water tastes funny. No, the sperm in turn floats innocently to the bottom of a body of water, where it settles on rocks. This increase in readily available genetic material super-charges the evolutionary rate of fresh-water rocks, to the point that the rocks evolve into living sea life within a short period of time. Whole new species of rock-fish have developed which we don’t know how to handle.
So, the US government traps these rock-fish and sells to them to the Chinese, who serve them to Apple’s slave laborers as “Super Happy #1 Seafood Stones” (well, that’s a rough translation). This made millions of Chinese workers lose their teeth, which got the Communist Party interested in dental care. They perfected a means of tooth-transplant, but the tooth must come from a live donor and be healthy.
They already have horrible teeth and they needed another source, so they convinced the American government to put fluoride in our water to keep our teeth healthy, because one day, China is invading… for our teeth.
And that’s why our water tastes so bad.
So, they started hiring planes to disperse a chemical in the air, one which would be barely perceptible, except to those who know to look for it. You know those lines you see sometimes that form behind planes? Yep, that’s the chemical, before it rains down on us.
You see, this chemical is a special growth protein that makes frogs develop extra limbs, because as we all know, the feet of tail-less amphibians secrete a special hormone that causes fish to undergo a sex change and become male. All these extra feet are enough to alter the gender balance of the estuary populations.
Once all these fish are male, they spawn all over the place, filling the water with fish sperm. But that’s not what makes the water tastes funny. No, the sperm in turn floats innocently to the bottom of a body of water, where it settles on rocks. This increase in readily available genetic material super-charges the evolutionary rate of fresh-water rocks, to the point that the rocks evolve into living sea life within a short period of time. Whole new species of rock-fish have developed which we don’t know how to handle.
So, the US government traps these rock-fish and sells to them to the Chinese, who serve them to Apple’s slave laborers as “Super Happy #1 Seafood Stones” (well, that’s a rough translation). This made millions of Chinese workers lose their teeth, which got the Communist Party interested in dental care. They perfected a means of tooth-transplant, but the tooth must come from a live donor and be healthy.
They already have horrible teeth and they needed another source, so they convinced the American government to put fluoride in our water to keep our teeth healthy, because one day, China is invading… for our teeth.
And that’s why our water tastes so bad.
Half-Baked Conspiracy #1
[Originally posted May 2011 at Skeptical Eye. Reposted here in honor of a phone call I just got from a comedy group looking to use some of these ideas in a sketch.]
Something has me very conspiratorial lately. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I haven’t been sleeping much lately or if those years of eating paint chips as a kid are catching up to me (they’re just so sweet… and I swear the green ones are also minty).
I not only wear a tin foil hat these days, I also wear a tin foil condom. My logic? Sure the brain in my skull is protected, but I know where most of my thoughts really come from.
But the true object of my obsession is not what the lame-stream media wants it to be. It would be too easy to point out how the royal wedding was used to distract bin Laden so that he could be kidnapped and held in Guantanamo so that he can be cloned to form an army of bin Ladens that will be assembled to invade Mars, all to distract us from Obama’s false birth certificate which was released to draw attention away from the fact that the real one contains information regarding Big Foot’s assassination of Kennedy.
That’s self evident. You people don’t need me to tell you that stuff. There’s still a thing called “common knowledge,” after all.
No, I’m here to point out a conspiracy that occurred right under our noses. In fact, you might say that I eat conspiracies like this for lunch, and it’s certainly not stale and moldy. I want to bite off more than I can chew with this post… boy are these puns crumby.
Sliced bread, people. Sliced… fucking… bread. Yes, the greatest invention in human history, the one by which all other inventions are measured. I have privileged information about how this milestone in human technology is actually… something quite different.
Now, people will tell you that aliens don’t exist, but these people usually have an implant that controls what they say. Anyone who is willing to focus only on the evidence in favor of the idea will see quite clearly that aliens have not only landed, but they walk among us even now. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have a few in your attic or crawlspace.
Has anything weird or unexplained ever happened to you or someone you know? Yep, it was aliens. Bumps in the night, lost items, unexplained rectal bleeding… aliens, one and all.
These aliens not only live on our planet, they sometimes interact with us. Sometimes they crash and we find the debris of their ships, or they abduct a drunk, bored person from the middle of nowhere and perform weird experiments on them. But sometimes, aliens share their advanced technology with us.
Now, what I’m about to tell you may shake you to the core. I would ask now that all pregnant women and those with heart conditions leave the room. Also, put down any beverage you may be drinking, because a spit take is imminent.
Aliens gave us the technology for pre-sliced bread.
Let that bake in the old oven for a minute...
But why? Why would these nefarious extraterrestrials give us such advanced knowledge? The truth is, sliced bread is all part of their plan to take over the world.
Observe:
Before sliced bread, women had to slice the bread. Several slices a day, several times a day. This added up to hours a year, days over a lifetime. It was when sliced bread was introduced in the early 20th century that women started leaving the home, freed of their duty of slicing bread.
Women then went to work, diluting the labor market, leaving children to be raised by the television (another aliens invention). One day, freed from the home, women will run the world, and in their peace-loving naiveté, the nations of Earth will disarm… leaving the door open for the alien invasion.
There you have it. I have just blown the lid off the greatest conspiracy I ever came up with at 3am and scribbled on a notepad. Now if you excuse me, I have to get ready for the Rebirther rally I’m attending today.
[For those interested, Rebirthers are a group who want proof that Barack Hussein Obama is not Adolf Hitler reincarnated.]
Something has me very conspiratorial lately. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I haven’t been sleeping much lately or if those years of eating paint chips as a kid are catching up to me (they’re just so sweet… and I swear the green ones are also minty).
I not only wear a tin foil hat these days, I also wear a tin foil condom. My logic? Sure the brain in my skull is protected, but I know where most of my thoughts really come from.
But the true object of my obsession is not what the lame-stream media wants it to be. It would be too easy to point out how the royal wedding was used to distract bin Laden so that he could be kidnapped and held in Guantanamo so that he can be cloned to form an army of bin Ladens that will be assembled to invade Mars, all to distract us from Obama’s false birth certificate which was released to draw attention away from the fact that the real one contains information regarding Big Foot’s assassination of Kennedy.
That’s self evident. You people don’t need me to tell you that stuff. There’s still a thing called “common knowledge,” after all.
No, I’m here to point out a conspiracy that occurred right under our noses. In fact, you might say that I eat conspiracies like this for lunch, and it’s certainly not stale and moldy. I want to bite off more than I can chew with this post… boy are these puns crumby.
Sliced bread, people. Sliced… fucking… bread. Yes, the greatest invention in human history, the one by which all other inventions are measured. I have privileged information about how this milestone in human technology is actually… something quite different.
Now, people will tell you that aliens don’t exist, but these people usually have an implant that controls what they say. Anyone who is willing to focus only on the evidence in favor of the idea will see quite clearly that aliens have not only landed, but they walk among us even now. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have a few in your attic or crawlspace.
Has anything weird or unexplained ever happened to you or someone you know? Yep, it was aliens. Bumps in the night, lost items, unexplained rectal bleeding… aliens, one and all.
These aliens not only live on our planet, they sometimes interact with us. Sometimes they crash and we find the debris of their ships, or they abduct a drunk, bored person from the middle of nowhere and perform weird experiments on them. But sometimes, aliens share their advanced technology with us.
Now, what I’m about to tell you may shake you to the core. I would ask now that all pregnant women and those with heart conditions leave the room. Also, put down any beverage you may be drinking, because a spit take is imminent.
Aliens gave us the technology for pre-sliced bread.
Let that bake in the old oven for a minute...
But why? Why would these nefarious extraterrestrials give us such advanced knowledge? The truth is, sliced bread is all part of their plan to take over the world.
Observe:
Before sliced bread, women had to slice the bread. Several slices a day, several times a day. This added up to hours a year, days over a lifetime. It was when sliced bread was introduced in the early 20th century that women started leaving the home, freed of their duty of slicing bread.
Women then went to work, diluting the labor market, leaving children to be raised by the television (another aliens invention). One day, freed from the home, women will run the world, and in their peace-loving naiveté, the nations of Earth will disarm… leaving the door open for the alien invasion.
There you have it. I have just blown the lid off the greatest conspiracy I ever came up with at 3am and scribbled on a notepad. Now if you excuse me, I have to get ready for the Rebirther rally I’m attending today.
[For those interested, Rebirthers are a group who want proof that Barack Hussein Obama is not Adolf Hitler reincarnated.]
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