Fly On The Wall: Fairy Tales From A Misanthropic Universe, Vol. I (12 page)

The noise of
unknown machines create a constant highway like hum. Around them
bizarre structures resembling crystals shards, like the buildings
they knew too well reached out to the sky, but here daring truly to
scrape it. Each gemstone spire rises from the ground in inspiring
beauty, each wall is made of one gem or another, towers of green,
pink, blue, and yellow surround them. The gems are quite clear, so
Benjamin and Hugo can see well inside the great towers. Purposeful
inclusions dot their faces from place to place, hiding certain
rooms.

“
Welcome to our capital!”
Exclaims Maebë cheerfully, “I'm sure you've noticed,” she
continues, with pride hurrying her voice,” how beautiful it is.
Each and every building before you is constructed of what your kind
call 'gemstones' To teach you our ways in making them would take
many years. Even to show you the manufacturing of the precursor by
which we fashion the gems would take many months. I can tell y'all
the principle of it if you're interested though, my nana came up
with it.”

Benjamin and
Hugo would have been on the edge of their seats had they been sad,
but they were not, so instead they stand nodding, battered by the
gem dyed light. Their mouths hang in sheer awe at their
surroundings.

“
We fuse millions of lil'
gems together to form towering crystalline blocks wherever we need
a new building built. We force inclusions to form where we want
privacy, and otherwise sculpt the monoliths to out needs, and, of
course, our tastes.” Maebë pauses, noticing Hugo's face which had
drifted to the tall ceiling above. “We may not get much sun, but
the atmosphere makes our land bright nonetheless, she adds, being
sure to end on a majestic if minorly irked, tone. At that point, it
dawns on both Hugo and Benjamin that Maebë is no simple guide but
rather is likely to be a very important person in her world, one
that likely ought not t be trifled with. “This way,” she says, in
her perpetually perky drawl. She walks down a clear purple cobble
road of pure amethyst. It is adorned on either side by wide topaz
sidewalks. “We find that the best way to keep our existence a
secret is to hide a little bit of truth in every lie, just to make
it believable. For example, outside our system there is indeed some
considerable heat and pressure. That's why we find so many seed
gems, and why we learned to use them in the first place. This, for
example,” she motions to another teal doorway, “this is very
durable and very aesthetic, so it's a perfect material. Besides, as
you can imagine, those being which you call trees are not very
plentiful here. Historically we have been a much more metal based
culture.”

“
Hugo, you're a geologist,
what do you make of all this? Queries Benjamin, whose eyebrows
nearly graze the cavern's ceiling.

Hugo tuns to
Benjamin and says, “Well...it has been posited that such things
could, one day, be possible, but those were fanciful dreams...never
anything serious. I must say, I am quite blown away by all of this.
The technology to do this is light years ahead of what we have
above. His head swivels like a record, trying to take in as much of
the gleaming city and its stunning inhabitants as he can. “You must
share this with us, it could save many!” The light reflects and
refracts off and through the buildings and streets. It is so bright
and so colorful that Hugo's very brain feels overwhelmed by the
flood of stimulation. He rubs his eyes, hoping vainly it would
help. It doesn't.

“
Y'all ain't figured it out
yet, huh?” She asks derisively. The two men shake their head in
unison. “Well, alright, have y'all heard of so-called
'mole-people'?” Her voice carries a particular intonation of
disgust with the last couple of words. The men nod. “Well,” she
continues, “that's what many others of your kind have called us for
many years, quite hurtfully too I might add. It is true, we cannot
see as you do, but we do not need to. We see light in a different
way, indeed, we feel its pressure, we feel its shape and nature. It
is true we will never, any of us, be able to view what you view. We
will never perceive some aspects of the beauty of the world we have
built. We have been told many times that it is of splendor unknown
to man or beast. But y'all should make no mistake, we perceive
beauty still. We are not men, we are not women, we are not human;
we are who we are and that is all. That visible beauty which we
cannot see does not bother us, for the beauty we see is invisible
to you. Oh, and y'all should know, we feel, and we know things,
things long forgotten by our kind. We see th-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“
To show y'all
something.”

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

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

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