Greegs & Ladders (9 page)

“No!” shouted
Rip as he clung to his stomach. “You can’t have my organs! I need
them to wager in future bets!”

“Are there any
sort of Carnival attractions on this planet?” asked Krimshaw. “I'd
like to see more of those savage Greegs.”

Wilx
looked up Greegs in the
Map of Lincra
. “We might be in luck... Subterranean Layer 53 is a
Carnival Zoo. It says many fine animals have been stolen from their
natural environment and locked up in tiny cages just for our
viewing enjoyment.”

“What sort of
creatures do they have?”

“Wailing
Hair-Beasts, Crawling Eyes, Horrendous Swamp-Swoons, Gelatinous
Cubes, Elemental Stone-Golems, hey...look! They even have some of
those Flying Grimbat Messengers I’ve read about.”

“But do they
have any Greegs?” asked Krimshaw.

“They boast a
decent selection of the most savage Greegs imaginable. Let’s head
over there now.”

Krimshaw
sauntered towards the Master Ladder. Rip asked Wilx if he would
hang back for a minute and help him tie his non-existent
shoelaces.

“Do you think
we should take him there?” he whispered. “I’m worried about the
stares he’s been getting, what being an intelligent Greeg wearing
clothing and consorting with non-Greegs and all.”

“I’m sure
it’ll be fine,” said Wilx. “Let’s go over to the Ladder.”

“Hurry up!”
yelled Krimshaw.

Once Rip and
Wilx caught up, the three of them began descending the Master
Ladder. The vibe of the Subterranean Layers was uncomfortable.

“I don’t like
it down here,” said Rip. It was a justifiable opinion to have. They
were currently passing by Subterranean 11, a layer used mainly as a
storage dump for the unneeded organs flowing in from the Layer of
Mildly Decent Surgeons Who Will Perform Surgery For All the Wrong
Reasons.

“I agree,”
cried Wilx as they passed Subterranean 12, the Layer Where Nothing
is Done Except For Cutting Onions.

“We should
have visited one of the floating thingies. Let’s turn around.”

“No,” said
Krimshaw. “We have to see the cages. Besides, where there’s Greegs
there might be information about the all-Greeg planet.”

“I guess so,”
said Rip. “How many more of these things do we have to climb
through?”

“Just 41.”

“Sigh.”

Everyone was
beginning to feel the exhaustion of descending towards the centre
of Planet Lincra.

Krimshaw
slipped and nearly plunged into the abyss.

“Why is
everything connected by ladders?” he asked, referring not only to
the Master Ladder but also to the smaller ladders connecting the
many smaller layers and the general placement of ladders in most
areas of his vision. “On our ship we’ve got floating elevators and
teleportation rooms, yet the most popular planet in the system
can’t afford something better than archaic ladders? It is a
laughably inconvenient tool.”

“Pfft, he
doesn’t know about the KULMOOG,” mocked Rip.

“The
what?”

“The Kroonum
Union of Ladder Makers and/or Official Overseeing Gods,” informed
Wilx.

“Who are
they?”

As everyone
descended, passing such places as the Layer of Governmental
Operations Concerning Hypnotic Mind Control, Wilx delved into the
long story of the Ladder Makers Union.

“The KULMOOG
are the oldest and strongest union in the Kroonum system. They
started out as just the KULM, the Kroonum Union of Ladder Makers.
Their invention of the ladder revolutionized life as they knew it.
Suddenly people were able to reach things on high shelves without
climbing on the actual shelves and thus breaking them and having to
buy new shelves. Shelf makers lost a considerable amount of money
on this aspect of the ladder revolutionizing things. People could
also now pick fruit without having to climb trees, thus not falling
out of trees, breaking bones and requiring pricey hospital bills.
Doctors lost much of their income due to the increased safeness of
fruit-picking. It also became easier to break into houses; one
simply had to pick a window, prop a ladder and climb their way to
crime. Companies that made security bars for windows were one of
the few non-ladder related ventures to become richer as a result of
the ladder. Everyone was affected by the advent of this tool. With
so much money being spent on ladders instead of new shelves and
hospital bills, the KULM quickly became the richest entity in the
system. They became so powerful the Kroonum politicians began to
fear their very presence. Naturally, over time, the Ladder Union
usurped the power of the politicians and were made the
unquestionable leaders of every facet of life in the system. This
is when the ‘Official Overseeing Gods’ part of their acronym was
added on. Every job, income and family evolved to rely upon the
ladder. Yet as time passed, the ladder became outdated and
impractical. Yet rather than keep up with the times and invent
entirely new technology and infrastructure (as such things are
highly illegal) everyone in Kroonum was forced to subsidize
ridiculous alterations to the ladder, to the point where some
‘ladders’ are not ladders at all, aside from a few obligatory rungs
here and there. The details of what constitutes a ladder has been
the spark of many fierce battles and riots. Nervous officials are
often forced to appease mobs over the building of tools that are
not at all ladders. So here we are, forced to climb this absurd
device instead of doing something easy like teleporting or
floating, all because of the Ladder Union’s throne of power
watching over us.”

“That explains
the cluster of planets we saw on the way here, the one connected by
an intricate series of ladders,” said Krimshaw.

“That is the
central processing factory of Kroonum ladders and ladder-related
products such as the Varnishizer, the only varnish on the market
guaranteed to dry in open space. The cluster is known simply as
Planet KULMOOG. It is probably one of the dullest and yet most
frightening places you could visit. How is it both dull and
frightening at the same time you ask? It is dull considering the
fact that nothing goes on there besides the churning out of more
ladders and ladder-related products. It is frightening because all
your words and actions are charted by the ever present eyes and
ears of KULMOOG Surveillance. Anyone suspected of being a spy or of
being even remotely anti-ladder is tortured for information about
the supposed perpetual plot to replace the ladder. KULMOOG has
grown so paranoid over losing power that generally most everyone is
suspected of being a spy.”

“Let’s not go
to Planet KULMOOG,” suggested Rip.

“
Another
place we shouldn’t go is the topmost layer of Lincra. There is
nothing but a bunch of ladders going up into the sky, leading
nowhere. Endless hoards of tourists climb
these ladders, but rather than turn around when
the ladder runs out they merely attempt to continue climbing, thus
falling to their death.
There is never a shortage of new arrivals eager to
climb the ladders, despite
scattered bones covering the ground as a chilling warning
sign.
A fine living is
made selling maps and provisions at the base of these ladders. It
is incredibly easy to make a living there, for when you sell
someone a map or a provision you merely wait for them to fall off
the ladder, then collect your goods from the body and sell them
again to the next hapless wanderer. It is not entirely known why
these useless ladders exist, but the fact that people climb them is
seen around the universe as a prime example of the height of
stupidity. People climb the ladders simply because they are there.
Some see it as a side-effect of the intense mental-conditioning
that has gone down between the KULMOOG and the residents of
Kroonum, as if to say the people of Kroonum have been trained to
believe in the necessity of ladders to the point where they are
physically incapable of stopping themselves from climbing a ladder
when they see one. Other ideas are discussed, some more insane than
others, including the usual fanatical religious groups who believe
the ladders are God's way of announcing the Resurrection of the
Messiah, or He Who Shall Survive the Ladder-Climb. Something like
45% of ladder-deaths are said to be people who think they are some
sort of saviour. One thing is known, these dangerous ladders are
allowed to remain because of the prodigious bribes being supplied
to the KULMOOG by the profiteering merchants who lurk by the
bone-riddled ladder's base.”

“Let us now
descend the ladder in silence,” suggested Rip.

“To
commemorate the passing of the ladder climbers?” asked
Krimshaw.

“No, because
I’m sick of hearing about them.”

And so the
group finished the remainder of the journey in silence. With each
passing layer they could feel the intense heat of the fiery core
growing stronger. Krimshaw shed some of his clothing. He seemed to
do this purely out of survival instinct, as heat stroke is the most
common shared experience amongst tourists who visit Subterranean
Layers, yet it was likely that he subconsciously knew if he wore
less clothing the Carnival Greegs would be less offended by his
presence. After what felt like eternity, the group arrived at
Subterranean Layer 53, also known as the Royal Lincran Carnival
Zoo.

The word
‘Royal’ could not have been a more inappropriate word to place in
front of ‘Lincran Carnival Zoo.’ The place was a nasty dungeon.
Greeg feces caked the stone walls. Whoops of pain emanated from an
unknown distance. Chutes descended from the roof into the cages,
evidently serving as feeding troughs as they spewed runoff organs
from the Layer of Mildly Decent Surgeons Who Will Perform Surgery
For All the Wrong Reasons. Dangerous aliens slithered along the
edges of the shadowed frames, hoping to make a living by
pickpocketing the space-yuppies. The space-yuppies were numerous,
dim-witted and slow to the reflex. A fine living was made by the
pickpockets.

Many passersby
had noticed Krimshaw.

“Why do they
keep pointing at me and whispering?” he asked Rip.

“Uh... they’re
just admiring your jacket. Isn’t it made from the pelt of a Pelexor
Snow-Demon? Those are impossible to kill, and tougher to skin.”

“I’m not
wearing my jacket. It’s boiling hot down here.”

“They can see
you carrying the jacket.”

“I'm not
carrying my jacket, Wilx is.”

“No he's not,”
said Rip.

“Where'd it
go?” asked Krimshaw. “You said you'd watch my jacket!”

“Your jacket
is safe,” said Wilx.

“We can see
that you don't have it! Don't even try to say you're carrying all
those books right now because I can see all of your hands!”

“I assure you
everything is fine,” said Wilx. “Exposition is for another
time.”

“He's right,”
said Rip, eyeing the sketchy scenery. “Let’s just find the Greegs
and get out of here.”

A largish
crowd of shady characters were now following Krimshaw. They looked
as if ready to pounce. One of the spider-like creatures spoke to
Rip.

“Interesting
Greeg you’ve got there. Wearing clothing, walking upright, speaking
full thoughts, not throwing feces. Very interesting indeed. Never
seen anything like it.”

“Shh!” said
Rip. “He doesn’t know what he is. I have completely reformed his
mind to the point where he doesn’t even know he’s a Greeg. He has
no remembrance that he used to be in one of these cages.”

“I wouldn’t be
so sure of that,” said the spider-creature. “Look at how distressed
and angry he appears. He remembers these cages, all right. He
doesn’t like being here at all. Doesn’t like seeing his brothers
and sisters locked up.”

“Keep your
voice down.”

“None of these
savage beasts deserve to be proper members of society,” said the
spider. “I think he should be put back into a cage right now. But
not before it’s properly explained to him what he is.”

“Don’t even
think about it!”

The
spider-creature started fighting its way through the crowd towards
Krimshaw.

“We have to
leave now,” said Rip to Wilx. “They’re gonna ruin everything. It’s
still too early for Krimshaw to know the truth about his
identity.”

“How do you
plan to get out of here? We’re completely surrounded by things that
can walk on the roof.”

Rip surveyed
the area and realized Wilx was right. The space-yuppies had
disappeared, having been summoned to a needless seminar regarding
how to best hoard money. All that remained was the group of shady
creatures bearing down on Krimshaw.

“Do
something!” yelled Rip.

Wilx did
something.

This was a
very characteristic moment for these two well-seasoned travellers
of space and time. Rip tended to be the sideline motivation,
abstractly yelling for ‘something’ to be done (while actually doing
nothing himself), while Wilx tended to be the one who knew what had
to be done and did it.

Wilx looked at
the nearest cage. It had a sign reading PECKING GRAPPLER-BIRDS.
Below this sign was another sign reading NEVER OPEN. They couldn’t
have chosen a better cage to stand in front of while defending
themselves from yet another angry and hotly pursuant mob. Wilx did
the unthinkable. He opened the cage. Pecking Grappler-Birds swarmed
out, quickly filling up the space of Subterranean Layer 53. They
pecked. They grappled. They flew.

“Run!” yelled
Wilx.

Rip and
Krimshaw followed Wilx down the corridor towards the Master
Ladder.

“I think those
bird things have them distracted. But don’t slow down.”

“Can you
believe how fast they peck through to the brains?” asked
Krimshaw.

“And how
effectively they grapple the spinal cord?” added Rip.