Paraworld Zero (19 page)

    “Oh, you are a lifesaver!”

    “Life… saver?” Har asked slowly.

    “Yeah. Without you, I’d starve to death.”

    Simon grabbed the sandwich and started to devour it. Har handed him a glass
of milk, and the boy guzzled it down. Just then, a light turned on in the dining room.

    “Oh, no! What do we do?” Simon whispered frantically.

    “Come,” Har said while turning around. “Hide.”

    The large Pud got on his hands and knees and crawled through a plastic flap
in the wall. He looked like an animal squeezing through an oversized doggy-door. Simon zoomed
over to the entrance but couldn’t fit through because of his hover chair. Quickly, Har pulled
Simon out of the chair and carried him into the dark cubbyhole. He then pulled the hover chair in
as well, just as the kitchen door opened.

    Simon could see the outline of Dr. Troodle through the plastic flap. He was
walking right towards them! Then, just before he reached the cubbyhole, the tiny man stopped.
Simon watched nervously as Dr. Troodle pulled a bottle out of a drawer, opened it, and took a
sip. He put the container back into the drawer and said, “Colder, please.” The drawer closed
itself and opened again immediately. “Thank you.” He withdrew the bottle and drank from it once
more.

    Dr. Troodle leaned against the counter for a moment and then saw the
half-eaten sandwich that Simon had left behind. Mildly interested but wary, he approached the
sandwich as if it could be a trap. After sniffing it and prodding it with his forefinger, Dr.
Troodle seemed a bit more confident. He finally picked up the sandwich and took a bite but
quickly withdrew, acting as though it were laced with poison.

    Dr. Troodle threw down the sandwich in disgust and marched out of the
kitchen. The lights in the dining room went out, and everything became silent and dark once
more.

    Simon whispered to Har, afraid of what the answer might be, “What is this
little room we’re in?”

    The cubbyhole wasn’t much larger than a doghouse. It even had another plastic
flap leading to the outside, and the only thing separating the boys from the cold dirt below was
a small, ragged blanket.

    “This Little Har’s room,” the large boy answered.

    “You mean, you sleep here?”

    “Yes.”

    “That’s crazy! You’re not a
pet
—you’re a
person.
”

    “Har is big Pud,” he explained.

    “That doesn’t make any difference. I can’t believe this. Come on. You’re
sleeping in our room tonight.” Simon crawled out of the hole and got onto his hover chair, but
the large boy wouldn’t follow. “Come on, Har.”

    “Har no go.”

    “Why not?”

    “Little Har for-bidden. Har go to mines if Har break rules.”

    “That’s not fair. I’ll talk to the Troodles—”

    “
No!
” the large boy exclaimed, grabbing Simon’s arm suddenly. “No get Har in
trouble.”

    Simon looked into the boy’s brown eyes and saw that they were full of fear.
“Okay,” he said reluctantly, “I won’t say anything.”

    “Har see Si-moan next night?”

    “Yeah… I’ll see you tomorrow night…” he whispered. “Goodnight, Har.”

    “Good-night, Si-moan.”

    Simon left the kitchen and went back to his bedroom. He glanced at Thornapple
and wondered if his friend realized the injustice he and his family were committing. The little
Pud slept soundly. For nearly two hours, Simon struggled to fall asleep. He kept thinking of Har
stuck in that cramped doghouse all by himself while everyone else slept in comfortable beds. It
wasn’t fair.

    The next morning, he woke up abruptly with the sound of yelling coming from
the dining room. Thornapple sat up in his bed and said with a smile, “Har sure is in trouble
now.”

    “If we ever catch you stealing food again, we’ll send you straight to the
mines,” came Mrs. Troodle’s scathing voice.

    Simon threw the covers off and jumped into his hover chair. Still dressed in
his pajamas, he left the bedroom and zoomed down the hallway. Har whimpered in the corner of the
dining room, while Dr. Troodle and his wife loomed over him.

    “What’s going on?” asked Simon.

    Dr. Troodle answered, “I discovered last night that Har has been sneaking
food from us. No telling how long this has been going on.”

    “It’s not his fault,” Simon confessed. “He was just—”

    “I sorry,” Har interrupted quickly. “Har no steal food again.”

    Simon tried to speak, but the terrified look on Har’s face told him to stay
quiet.

    “Well, you better be sorry,” scolded Mrs. Troodle. “Things aren’t going to be
so good for you anymore. We’re going to have to cut down on your privileges. First off, no more
second meals for you, young man. You can survive with just one meal a day.”

    “Yes,” Dr. Troodle said, joining in, “and I’m not so sure if I like the idea
of you walking around without a security collar.”

    “That’s right,” Mrs. Troodle said. “I think he’s starting to outgrow his
tranquilizer injections. Honey, why don’t you set up an appointment at the clinic to have Har
fitted for one of those new deluxe security collars? I heard they’re integrating them with more
and more features every day.”

    “That’s not a bad idea. I wouldn’t mind getting one with a wireless
connection to the Holonet.”

    “Just as long as it has a built-in filter,” his wife said. “I don’t want
Thornapple getting to any of those
underground
sites. The last thing we need now is for him to come in contact with Puds
writing fiction or painting pictures.”

    Har grimaced as the Troodles discussed the dreaded security collar. Simon
felt sorry for the big guy, and he didn’t want to get him into more trouble, so he decided to
break off his nighttime meetings.

    “Har, I don’t think you should have any late-night snacks anymore. Do you
understand me?” Simon broke up his next sentence into clear, distinct words.
“No-more-food-at-night.”

    The large boy frowned and nodded in response. “No more food?”

    “Yes, no more food.”

    Har exhaled loudly and furled his eyebrows in acknowledgment.

    “See, Simon. That’s the problem with big Puds,” Dr. Troodle said. “Not only
are they dumb as rocks, but they don’t understand half of what you tell them. I’m not even sure
they have a conscience. Sometimes it’s nice to have them around, but I find that if you get too
comfortable with one—just like with a wild dog—sooner or later you’re going to get bit.”

    “Good morning,” said Tonya as she walked into the room. Her green hair was
tied up in a bun, and she wore an oversized shirt that went down almost to her knees.

    “Honey, let’s go see what else he’s gotten into.” Mrs. Troodle beckoned the
large boy to follow them into the kitchen. “Har, come!”

    “What’s up?” Tonya asked Simon with a yawn.

    “Har got in trouble because—”

    He stopped himself.

    “Because why?”

    “Because he made me a sandwich last night. The Troodles think he’s been
sneaking food for himself, and I tried to tell the truth, but Har stopped me. He doesn’t want
them to know that I’ve been meeting with him.”

    “Oh,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s funny that such a civilized people would
practice slavery. Usually, the more advanced a paraworld gets, the less likely they are to
enslave their own kind.”

    “They’re not slaves,” Thorn chimed in from behind. “They’re
indentured
servants. And besides, they’re not really
our kind
.”

    Tonya sneered as Thorn entered the dining room. “They look like slaves to me,
and they are
your
kind
—only bigger.”

    “Har is free to go when his contract is finished.”

    “Yes, but where will he go after that? To the dank mines or to the
sun-blistered fields? He doesn’t have many options, does he?”

    “He has more options than that. In fact, I think his father is a
fisherman.”

    “The point is: Your people force the big Puds to do the things that no one
else wants to do. You don’t let them expand. You even rip away their childhoods so they don’t get
an opportunity to go to school and learn.”

    Thornapple laughed nervously. “Can you imagine Har in school? We wouldn’t
even be able to put him in with the kindergartners.”

    “You can hardly put us in with the kindergartners,” Simon muttered under his
breath.

    Thorn cleared his throat. “The big Puds are put to work so they don’t get
into trouble. It’s safer that way.”

    “For who?” Tonya retorted. A red streak ran down her hair.

    “Let’s just drop it, okay?” Simon said. “There’s nothing we can do about it
anyway. I mean, it’s not like we can change the culture of a whole civilization.”

    “Yeah,” Thorn said. “Besides, we have more important things to talk
about—like my birthday!”

    “
Ahhh!
” Tonya cried. “Do you have to bring that up every single day?”

    “Well, tomorrow’s the big day—right before the anniversary of the Battle of
Lisardious. Speaking of that, have you decided to go to the dance, Simon?”

    “No, I don’t think I’m going.”

    “
WHAT?
” Tonya blurted out. “You have to go!” Simon and Thorn looked at her in surprise, and
the red in her hair turned pink. “I mean… well… I want
someone
my size to dance with.”

    “I don’t know,” Simon mumbled. “I’ll think about it.”

    “Well, guys,” Thorn said, “something tells me that Har’s not going to make
breakfast for us today. We might as well get ready for school.”

    Soon, the three children were on their way to school. All day long, the
teachers felt the need to share stories about the Battle of Lisardious. Each story seemed to get
wilder and wilder as the day went on. One teacher said the aliens had sent a virus to wipe out
the Puds. Another teacher told his students that the aliens invaded because they wanted to take
the Puds back to their homeworld to replenish their food supply. By the end of the day, the
students were led to believe that not only did the small Puds destroy the enemy single-handedly,
but they did so without the aid of weapons.

    After school, Tonya met Simon at the hospital for his therapy session. Simon
held himself between two metal bars. As Tonya walked in, he started swinging like a gymnast. Over
the past two months, his arms had become very strong, but, unfortunately, his legs had not.

    “Good,” said Tonya. “Now that you’ve learned to swing like a monkey, let’s
see if you can walk like one.”

    “Very funny.”

    Simon put his feet down on the ground. He stood for a few seconds but soon
grabbed the bars for support.

    “You’re not trying hard enough,” she told him. “You give up too soon.”

    “I am trying,” he said, “but my legs hurt.”

    Tonya knelt down and massaged his lower legs.

    “Can you believe all that garbage we heard today about the Battle of
Lisardious? Thornapple told me one of his teachers said the war was actually just a made-up story
and that there isn’t any scientific proof that a battle even took place. No debris from any
spaceships was ever found.” She paused and then said, “Well, I guess that does correlate with
your theory of the Lisardians not being aliens.”

    Tonya slapped his calves, which nullified all the soothing she had just
given, and stood up.

    “All right, what’s all this about you not wanting to go to the dance?” she
probed. “You’re not gonna make me go there by myself, are you?”

    “Thorn will be there.”

    “Yeah, right! Like I’m gonna dance with that pipsqueak.”

    “I just don’t like dances.”

    “Have you ever been to one?”

    “No.”

    “Then how do you know you don’t like dances?”

    Simon stared at his shoes. “I don’t know how to dance.”

    “Oh my goodness!” Tonya exclaimed. “Is this why it’s taking you so long to
walk—because you don’t wanna go to the dance?”

    “Well, maybe a little.”

    “I can’t believe you! All this time I’ve been working with you—for all I
know, you probably can walk.”

    She put her hands to her hips, and Simon cowered. An evil grin stretched
across her face.

    “Simon, how would you like a
big
kiss?”

    “Wh-Wh-What?” he stuttered in shock.

    “Yeah, I think that’s just what you need.”

    Her hair suddenly turned neon blue. She walked towards him slowly and
provocatively. Simon struggled backwards on the bars to escape.

    “St-St-Stop it, T-T-Tonya!”

    When he reached the end of the bars, Tonya said in a sultry voice, “What’s
wrong, Simon? Haven’t you ever kissed a girl before?”

    She opened her mouth and lashed out her long tongue. It snapped in the air
next to Simon’s face. Shocked and scared, he let go of the bars and jumped backwards without
thinking, but to his surprise, he didn’t fall.

    “Hey, I’m standing!” he cried.

    “No,” Tonya said quietly, her expression somber. “You’re floating.”

Chapter 13