Fly On The Wall: Fairy Tales From A Misanthropic Universe, Vol. I (13 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“
Soon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maebë wanders
off towards a purple corridor whose deep color casts a silhouette
through a green gem wall. She motions at a part of the green
gemstone and down it comes, revealing an entrance to the violet
corridor. Maebë makes sure not to look down as the walks
through.
She doesn't fear
heights, but the minuscule light which begs for company miles below
her feet is a little much, even for her.

The light
means the cull is in full swing. Good. Oh lord! I just can't wait!
Going to have some fresh smokes Squal soon! My favorite. It's a
shame it's only available right after the culls. I wish we could
have it all year, but that would require year round culls, and
that's unsustainable, the breeding rates are just too low. Hmm
maybe we can do something about that, I'll have the illuminated
ones look into it. There is is. Oak. It's always so beautiful, its
energy is like nothing else down here.
Before
Maebë is a large
solid door, one which had been gifted by a surface leader of old
who had met her once.
I love the
feel of its grain.
Maebë ran her
fingers over the old wood.
It
can't be this beautiful above, it might be out light which brings
out the beautiful of the fractally massed fibers. Heh, at least
there's one advantage to these dreadful meetings.
To the mole people, it is a strange material,
but it is
Maebë's favorite, and
the only exemplar down there. Maebë presses on through the oak
door.

Figurines and
dioramas portray peace and trade between two people on the wall
beyond that oak door. One race looks like humans, the other more
closely resembles Maebë's race. The humans all seem to be dressed
in rags, whereas her race is dressed in robes similar to the one
which Maebë now dons. A long fluorescent black cloak from which
rose bismuth crystal flowers here and there. The one she always
wears for meetings. Her mother's.