Fly On The Wall: Fairy Tales From A Misanthropic Universe, Vol. I (15 page)

“
Wakey wakey sleepy heads.
So listen – I've had a quick meeting, and we've all come to an
agreement. Y'all have got two choices. Each one makes their own
choice. The first is to stay with me – with us – down here. There
ain't much light, but I think I'm pretty darn good company. Just
one proviso though, a small, personal, edict.” Maebë's voice
culminates in a dark tone full of gravitas in the words which
follow those, “If you remain you will content yourselves with the
knowledge I grant you. You will not seek, you will not query, you
will live by my word and accept it, for you – your race – is too
young to understand our ways.

The grave
words sink into Benjamin and Hugo's minds. Neither man can fathom
whence her brooding manner had arisen from, their faces make that
clear enough, Maebë notices their reaction and is pleas she'd
managed to impart the serious nature of their conversation to the
otherwise foolish men. Maebë continues setting out their options.
“The other possibility is that you receive a full tour. I will
personally guide you through our main facilities and show you how
we do things down here. It's quite a lot to take in, so be warned.
But if you do follow me you will be granted more knowledge than you
can even handle. And after you will be put to work. Until the day
you die of course, such are our ways.”

The men look
at each other and exchange silent words. Benjamin races to answer
first. “I must learn, You have much to teach me, especially about
the gems. How do you fabricate them? Where do you find them? I must
go with you on the tour.”

An
open-mouthed Hugo then replies too, “I agree, but I do not wish to
see. I have seen enough in my long years. Show Benjamin, I wish
only to back in this beautiful light, with a beautiful queen. Look
around you Benjamin, you are literally inside a palace made of
emerald. What more do you need to know? What answers could you
possible seek?”

Benjamin
smirks with a little contempt, “Precisely,” he says, “I seek
everything.”

A part of
Maebë's smoke Squal remains sat on the plate she'd brought with
her. The full flavor of the meat comes through in abundance when it
is smoked. Its chewy texture is delectable, and it seems to melt in
the mouth. She offers it to Hugo, and then Benjamin. Servants bring
them more as they bicker at Maebë's behest. Hugo becomes more and
more convinced that the center is the right place for hi. He hated
meat, yet the fecund fleshy aromas alone are enough to make him
stay, even without the endless eye candy. Hugo bites into a small
chunk he had taken from a newly brought plate. “Squal-Heart” the
servants had said. Amazing, spiced just so with creamy Cajun tones,
and fried to an outer crispy perfection, with a rare middle which
diffuses a delicate flavor over all his taste buds. Hugo knows this
is the place for him. He looks to the wall and ponders if he will
miss the outside. A furtive smile from Maebë convinces him that he
won't. He'd already spent most of his life in various caves seeking
rare minerals. He sees no point in stopping now, and the fates had
granted him the best opportunity of all, his own personal
nirvana.

Benjamin digs
into the tender meat and weighs his options still. He still has
time to change his mind and stay, but Benjamin doesn't want to
stay, instead he wants fame and glory. It does not escape his
notice that if he is the only one to return he will have to share
none of it. And if he stays he will never get that deserved
recognition. He has to learn, then take it back, for the betterment
of all, especially his own accounts. How restless he feels at the
thought of his future countless priceless gems.

Maebë waits
patiently for the men to finish their feast. She sits silently and
watches the two tear into their various pieces of Squal. As
Benjamin finally wipes a final small smear of grease from his face,
Maebë stands and beckons him. Hugo's eyebrows bunch , disconcerted.
But when he sees Benjamin's springy step he gives only a final
farewell to his old friend. He worries no more when he sees
Benjamin's excitement, after all, their hosts had been gracious and
he has no reason to doubt them.

Benjamin now
walks down the purple corridor which winds around her emerald
palace. “You missed the last great cull, it was a few hours ago,”
Maebë tells him, “it was not the right time anyway though, so I'll
just take you to one of our off-cycle farms, and first show you how
we grow our resources. Then the crystal tech. All out farming is
collective, each being works to ensure the we being and health of
all others. It is true, we maintain the barbarism of wage slavery
within certain farms, but only very few are willing to work in the
farms regardless, so incentivization can be significant. We can
usually accommodate people who don't want to work there, not
always, but usually. From what I understand of your world you
should more than understand why.”

Benjamin
grows visibly excited. This cull, and the farming seem to be the
main things on Maebë's mind, they had then to be vitally important
in order for her to bring it up this much. Benjamin thinks it
strange, but who is he to judge their kind. His fingers start
trembling with nervous anticipation. They walk for miles, but
Benjamin finds it hard to tell how far without organic points of
reference, like the ones he had on the surface. Even so he makes
due, counting each clacking step.

As they walk
Maebë reveals her peoples' involvement with him to him more. She
rambles through a long list of Earth's most prominent
inventions“...the transistor, penicillin, glass, steel, nuclear
energy, stable plasma containment. Your kind were too bone idle and
dumb to even figure out rubber without our help.”

Benjamin
knows she speaks the truth, for he is at the center of earth, and
the buildings he saw and touched were all real. His whole life had
been a well-concocted fiction. Finally, they reach a big black
building. Unlike the other structures in her realm it is opaque,
yet this makes it mirror-like. Benjamin stares at himself briefly,
but looks away quickly lest his own good looks distract
him.

“
Are you ready?” queries
Maebë gravely.

“
Yes, yes of course I am,”
he snaps back, letting his impatience flare. It is clear that
Benjamin desires only to obtain her knowledge and be gone. He is
eager to see what lies in the black box. Unlike Maebë and hers,
Benjamin does not have a flair for the dramatic, he had no time to
waste on pomp. Maebë's eyes roll in their sockets as she reaches
out a finger and draws two overlapping triangles directly onto the
black surface. A tall rectangle turns dark gray in response. Slowly
it becomes lighter, and lighter, until through some strange
disintegration it is no more. Two massive being stand on either
side of the doorway, guards. They tower above Benjamin and stare
straight on, unmoved the sight of Benjamin. The mounds of muscle
make it clear that they are not to be trifled with. Benjamin had
seen the strength of Maebë's people first hand, he cannot fathom
what such hulking creatures might be capable of. Benjamin finds
them strange all the same, he had seen no guards elsewhere, not
even in her palace. Deep down Benjamin hides disgust. He
understands why they had been termed mole people, aside from Maebë
they are all remarkably ugly beings.

Maebë senses
his inner gripes and bristles with indignation, but she hides it
well, for they are almost at their destination. She explains to
Benjamin that the guards will go with them, for safety – of course.
Benjamin minds, but he can hardly say no, and the intoxicating
promises of riches egg him on. They both walk, with guards in tow,
down a long, empty, milky white quartz hallway. At the end, Maebë
steps up and turns to face Benjamin. “Benjamin, this is your last
chance to rescind your choice and join Hugo.”

“
No.” One word
suffices.

Maebë taps
her foot rhythmically and the floor darkens, eventually opening,
forgiving both her and Benjamin through yet another tube-slide of
sorts. This one is gentler, and shorter too. Almost immediately
they land in a round chamber, surrounded by a shiny gold wall.
Benjamin rises to his feet and touches the wall, feeling for a
seam, any junction to indicate openings. He finds the featureless
confined spaces disturbing.

“
Darlin', you asked me
earlier how old I was, now let me ask you the
same.”

“
33” Benjamin is fond of
one world answers when he feels uncomfortable, their brevity
comforts him.

“
Oh my, just right!” she
says. The sharp points of her teeth press into her lip and she
bites it softly.

“
For what?” Benjamin feels
anxious and paces around the tiny chamber. He hits his palm against
the gold wall, hoping to affect it the same way Maebë had with
other walls. Benjamin knows something is wrong, and his breathing
proves it. He pants, suddenly aware of the danger he faces. It is
those actions and thoughts which convince Maebë that is is indeed
all for the best.

“
Well...here's the thing
sugar plum,” she says, “your people and mine have a long standin'
agreement,” like a teacher does with her students, Maebë pauses to
give Benjamin a chance to ask, a chance to learn, but he is too
agitated and just paces the perimeter of the small room. It doesn't
matter to Maebë, she progresses her speech, she knows that he hears
her well. “Every once in a while, people, more specifically the
poor – the lost – from your communities go missin'. Noe I guess
y'all ain't ever noticed, but mass disappearances always coincide
with the best inventions.”

Benjamin,
calming down somewhat, nods cautiously. He summons all his strength
to calm himself, to listen to her pitch.

“
Well shug, what happens is
that food is mighty scarce down here, but knowledge ain't. Besides
your folk had a mighty hard time helpin' 'em. At least we give 'em
a roof.” Maebë pauses and sighs, “It really is best if I show you.”
Maebë emulates Benjamin's hand motion upon the wall, demonstrating
to him that is is a question of whom and not how.

The golden
walls collapse on themselves, forming a gold ring on the bottom of
the round suspended platform on which Maebë and Benjamin stand. For
the first time, Benjamin can see. He stares out at a great
populated hall, one greater than any ht had ever seen. Benjamin's
stomach somersaults. In one corner humans; in another, more; in
another, yet more still; in each and every square yard of the
gargantuan hall a human stands. They are all cramped together like
cattle. Every here and there more massive guards stand watch.
Young, old, humans of every race and gender, humans of every height
and girth. Benjamin watches the mole people standing guard below
gather and begin to rape a young woman in the northeastern corner.
Her cries resound through the colossal warehouse, but none are
affected, none act. The guards rape er with impunity. Despair
shines from each person's eyes, boring holes into Benjamin's soul.
They all beg him for salvation, for release.

Benjamin is
dumbfounded. All he can do is stare hopelessly into the warehouse
of cruelty, unable to act. He turns and looks on at a group of
children in the corner behind him. They are being beaten by the
mole guards who hit them again and again until each one of their
fragile young bones splits open, spilling savory marrow. Benjamin
sees humans in another corner lined up, then they are pushed
through stiles, one by one. They press on past what looks to be a
bunch of half height workers. The workers bring up pistol like
objects to the back of the humans' skulls. Loud pops and subsequent
limpness confirm their efficacy.

The workers
hand each body by a hook and split open their necks, ensuring
exsanguination. They shake the bodies as they h, be they men,
women, or children, all of them, making sure that each drop of
blood is freed from its prison. Maebë doesn't particularly care,
and neither do the workers, but if the meat was not bled out well
then bloody streaks would run through the fat, making the meat less
attractive for sale. Benjamin stares in horror as the blood flows
down into immense floor drains. Maebë's eyes follow his, and she
speaks up.

“
Don't worry, it doesn't
get wasted, we drink it up, like your wine.”

Benjamin is
too traumatized to react. A trillion mile stare besets his face. He
can not look from the feeding line. He watches on as conveyors
shunt mashed soylent around the hall. He stares at the feral humans
who grunt and jostle for position. Raised for slaughter, these
humans were often inbred, but at least someone bigger, for they bad
but one role – to die. His people, the strong and powerful
conquerors, are truly no more than prey for a stronger
species.

Maebë smiles
and draws a line on this chin with her finger, pulling his face in
towards her. “Look,” she says and points up. Above them is another
hall, one with a transparent floor. In it, Benjamin sees them breed
his kind. Beings forces into copulation. Maebë's people had seen no
point to teaching the humans, so they kept them like beasts, and so
they kept them like bests, and like beasts they behaved, assaulting
one another at will. As soon as each young woman birthed, her
children were removed, to be raised and trained so their muscles
would grow, raised for slaughter. They live short lives and are
beaten often to ensure juicy tenderness. Maebë workers assign each
newborn child a number at random. When their age matches their
number they are slaughtered and butchered. As the sights of humans
being mutilated and cut up into convenient take-home packets
finally begin to sink into Benjamin's brain, he looks frantically
for an exit, realizing all too late there is none.