Orville Mouse and the Puzzle of the Last Metaphonium

by Tom Hoffman

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a dung beetle, and it’s rolling a giant ball of dung.”

  “You mean that ball is made of…”

  “Animal dung.”

  “Eww. What do they do with it?”

  “They eat it.”

  “I think I’m going to barf. That bug must be at least eight feet tall. Look at those big spikes on its legs. Scary.”

  “That’s not the scary part.”

  “What could be scarier than a giant armored spiky beetle rolling around a big ball of dung?”

  “Where did the dung come from?”

  Orville’s eyes widened. “Something really big.”

  Proto studied the enormous beetle. “Remarkable exoskeleton, the spikes on its legs look quite deadly. Did you note the size of those white wormy creatures? I couldn’t tell precisely what they were eating, but I think it had twelve legs. I suppose it could have been two six legged insects, or three four legged ones, difficult to tell. Quite a grisly scene.”

  “This is bad. Brother Solus, how do we find the Shadow King? Does he live in a big castle or something?”

  Brother Solus’ eyes were on the forty foot tall blue ferns swaying in the sweltry breeze, more specifically on the huge red spotted spider spinning a bright yellow web between two of the ferns. “He lives to the east.”

  “That’s a little vague. How do we find Aislin?”

  “I cannot say with any certainty. It all depends.”

  Orville slumped down against the base of a giant blue fern.

  “This whole adventure is too confusing. The Shadow King kidnapped Aislin Mouse when she stepped into Elysian, and he’s holding her captive in some unknown location, but she keeps appearing as a beautiful ghost mouse and she told me the Shadow King knew we would come to rescue her. How could he know that? Do you think he knows who Ebenezer is?”

  “Why do you keep bringing up how beautiful she is? Every time you mention her you say she’s beautiful.”

  “What do you mean? It’s just a descriptive word, like tall or funny or well dressed.”

  “I see, it’s just a descriptive word, an adjective. What adjectives do you use to describe me to other mice? Do you call me your beautiful best friend?”

  Orville froze, caught in the delicate net of Sophia’s words.

  “Um…well, it would depend on who I was talking to. Of course you are far more beautiful in your way than Aislin is, but–“

  “In my way? What does that mean? Am I beautiful or not? It’s a simple question.”

  Proto stood up, stretching his long silver arms. “Orville has told me many times you are the most beautiful mouse he has ever seen and how lucky he is that you are his best friend. He also said the more you love a mouse the more beautiful they become in your eyes. He cherishes you above all others.”

  Sophia’s jaw dropped.

  Orville looked at Proto in stunned surprise. “Why did you say that? I told you it was secret.”

  “I don’t like secrets. Especially ones written on crumpled up pieces of paper.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Sophia sat down next to Orville with a big smirky grin. “Did you really say all those things about me?”

  “Proto promised me he wouldn’t say anything. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “I don’t think it’s embarrassing at all, I think it’s lovely.” She rested her head on Orville’s shoulder.

  Brother Solus looked ill.

  Proto gave a dark look. “I am going to scout the area for predatorial beasts. My old and loyal friend Squeaky will protect you in my absence.” He turned sharply and disappeared into the maze of towering blue ferns.

  As he wove his way through the tangled labyrinth, Proto’s mind was not on terrifying beasts, but on small crumpled up pieces of white paper with secret notes written on them. He sighed. He shouldn’t have revealed Orville’s private feelings to Sophia. He had promised he wouldn’t, but they had betrayed his friendship with their secret notes, wishing they’d never met him, wishing he would move back to the Cube. That was far worse than what he had done. His body might be indestructible, but his feelings were not.

  He leaned against a giant fern, sliding down to the jungle floor, his eyes closing. He would move back to the Cube before they asked him to, avoid any unpleasantness, avoid the awkward painful confrontation. Maybe they could still go on adventures together. Maybe they just didn’t want him living in their house.

  Proto never saw the little smoking charcoal stick figure creeping up behind him, never saw it transform into a black roiling cloud, never saw it envelope his body.

  He had been in the utility room folding laundry when he heard them arguing. Back then the reporters called him ‘The Friendly Rabbiton’, but the two little bunnies he lived with called him Uncle Rab. He liked being called Uncle Rab, and he liked being part of their family, taking great joy in cooking their meals, baking tasty treats, doing laundry, cleaning, and reading bedtime stories to the little bunnies, always asking how their day had been, if there was anything more he could do to help.

  The space pirate birthday party had been his idea. The bunnies loved the Dread Pirate Blackbones stories, so a pirate themed birthday party seemed a logical choice. He had fashioned cute pirate costumes for all twenty-two of the bunnies invited to the party. He had baked a six tier cake, each layer a different flavor, painstakingly decorated with space pirates and interstellar battleships shooting deadly force beams. His own costume was spectacular, a tour de force, an artful masterpiece with no detail overlooked, no shortcuts taken. When he wore it he was no longer Uncle Rab, he was the Dread Pirate Blackbones, the bloodthirsty Scourge of Dark Space. He had great expectations for the party, a gala event which he was certain would become a lasting and cherished memory for the little bunnies.

  Twenty-two little bunnies burst into tears when Proto entered the room wearing his Dread Pirate Blackbones costume, blood red paint splattered across his waistcoat and sword. Twenty-two little bunnies thought the blood drenched Dread Pirate Blackbones had invaded their party with the sole intention of chopping them into little pieces. Two stunned Elders quickly ushered him out of the room, sending him back to the kitchen, telling him they needed ten more batches of cookies.

  Proto was oblivious, completely misinterpreting their tears. “They loved it, they were moved to tears! They loved my costume, those dear little bunnies thought I was the real Dread Pirate Blackbones. It is a glorious and memorable day.”

  Two days passed without incident. It was on the third day that he heard them arguing while he was folding laundry in the utility room.

  “He has to go. He scared the wits out of every bunny there. How could he not know all that blood would scare them? They told us he was a Friendly Rabbiton, not a terrifying one.”

  “He’s a Rabbiton, he doesn’t know any better. He meant well. He made a nice cake.”

  “I don’t like any of it. The bunnies are starting to think he’s one of us. They want him to read their bedtime stories instead of me. I should be the one reading to them, not some talking metal machine. And I will go mad if he offers me another tasty treat or chilled beverage. All those sweets are bad for the bunnies.”

  A wrenching sob rolled out of Proto as he sat beneath the great blue fern. How could he have forgotten this?

  “What are we supposed to do, just send him away?”

  “He’s a machine, he doesn’t have feelings. I don’t want him in our house.”

  “They said he’s programmed to have feelings.”

  “He’s programmed to act like he has them. He doesn’t have true feelings the way we have them. I want him out of here. However you do it, he needs to go.”

  “You might be right, I don’t really want the bunnies thinking he’s part of the family. Maybe the military could use him. You know, put him to work in a factory or something. He couldn’t do any harm there, and he might even do some good. They keep saying the Anarkkians are gearing up for war.
”

  Proto had apologized profusely. He was sorry he’d scared the bunnies. He wouldn’t do it again. He’d be careful. He’d ask first if what he was doing was appropriate. His words had fallen on deaf ears.

  The Rabbiton representative arrived four days later to give Proto the good news. He had been a rousing success, he had become a beloved member of the family, but it was time to move on, a higher duty was calling. The military had an important job for him, a job which might even prevent an Anarkkian invasion. He was being sent to a surveillance center in distant west Symoca, to a place called the Cube.

  Proto staggered to his feet, the pain of his memory almost unbearable. His own family had sent him away, saying he was only a machine, a cold automaton devoid of feelings. And now Orville and Mum and Papa were going to do the same thing, send him back to the Cube.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a low growling coming from the tangled foliage. He hoped it was a scary creature, something really dreadful, really horrible, something to make him forget. As he fought his way through the dense vegetation his thoughts were on crumpled notes. Maybe he was wrong about Orville and Sophia, maybe there was some other explanation, maybe the notes were about someone else. Orville and Sophia had never been anything but friendly, always including him in their adventures, even on trips to the grocery store. Just last week Mum had bought him a bottle of silver polish, saying how handsome he looked when he was shiny and bright. Or maybe that had all been an act, maybe they were just being polite, not wanting to hurt his feelings. He did not like Elysian. Orville said there was something off about this world. It was odd that this horrible forgotten memory had come out of nowhere, just like Sophia remembering why she was scared of caterpillars. He wished they were back home again. He wished they’d never come to this world.

  He pushed his way through the thorny thicket, branches wriggling wildly, shooting out slippery barbed vines, wrapping themselves around his arms in an attempt to ensnare him. On any other day it would have been thrilling, but for some unknown reason he felt compelled to discover the source of the growling. He pulled the vines off and stepped through the thicket.

  The first thing he saw was the cave entrance, the second was a growling RoboPup in the shadows, teeth bared.

  “Good heavens, is that Squeaky?” Proto scanned the RoboPup’s identification code. It was Squeaky.

  “Hello, little fellow, did you follow me here?”

  Squeaky gave a loud bark, dashing into the inky blackness of the cave. Proto shivered. This cave was different, it scared him the way Anarkkian attack spiders had once scared him.

  “This must be how Orville feels when he sees a cave.” What was it Orville had said? Something about the darkest cave holding the brightest light? Maybe there was something in this dreadful cave he needed to see.

  Proto flicked on his ear lights and entered the cave. A magnificent six foot tall twelve legged spider scuttled out of a dark tunnel, red glowing feathers fluttering on the end of its antennae. The gloriously horrible creature crept toward him, its long spindly sparking feelers snaking out ahead of it, sensing his presence.

  “Yes, very scary indeed, but I’m afraid I don’t have time to dawdle, Squeaky wants me to follow him.”

  Proto sprinted toward the spider, leapfrogging over the hideous beast, hitting the ground with a spectacular tuck and roll landing. The spider hissed its anger, spraying out a cloud of deadly poisonous green gas.

  Squeaky had crossed the cave, dashing toward a large tunnel, glancing back at Proto and barking. Proto pounded down the eerie passageway after Squeaky, ghostly shadows from his ear lights leaping and dancing across the walls. He sprang over a swarm of spongy brain beetles, their eye pods tweeting wildly, ten thousand little red legs scurrying after him.

  “Very scary, Orville would not like this one bit.”

  One of the orange and yellow brain beetles tried to attach itself to Proto’s leg, but he jumped aside, shaking it off, bolting down the tunnel after Squeaky. Then came the mounds of squirming purple crystal worms and the hordes of walking leaves with their snappy little poisonous teeth clacking madly as they flooded down the tunnel after him.

  Proto entered a vast echoing cavern, quickly spotting Squeaky floating up a tall ladder to a broad stone ledge high above the cave floor. He scrambled up the ladder, leaving the furious chattering mass of walking leaves behind him.

  Squeaky sat panting in front of an enormous solid gold treasure chest.

  “Great heavens, I wish Orville was here to see this, he’s always talking about treasure chests. If the chest is made of solid gold, the treasure within it must be of inestimable value.”

  It took all of Proto’s great strength to raise the monumentally heavy gold lid, but he prevailed, and the chest groaned open, revealing an eight inch square glass box within.

  “Not the priceless treasure I was expecting.”

  He picked up the box, studying it closely.

  “Great heavens, this has been carved from a single gargantuan Nirriimian white crystal. Its value is inconceivable.”

  Proto was about to open the box when a sobering thought popped into his head.

  “Sophia would say I have been brought here by the universe for a reason, but perhaps the deeper purpose for my presence here is not one I will like, perhaps it’s what she calls the fires of life.”

  He ran his hand across the lid of the crystal box.

  “She also says we must face the fires of life head on, that is how we grow.”

  He set the box gingerly down on the stone floor, carefully removing the lid.

  He blinked.

  Sitting in the box was a crumpled up piece of white paper. With trembling hands Proto removed the note and read it.

  The Greatest Treasure

  4/7

  “I have not the slightest idea the meaning of this note. Clearly the golden chest and the Nirriimian crystal box are great treasures, but what is the significance of 4/7?”

  He clutched the note tightly, sinking to the floor, leaning back against the treasure chest. Try as he might, he could not deduce the meaning of the cryptic message. He closed his eyes. He was tired. Why did they want him to leave? When he opened his eyes again he found himself leaning against the trunk of a sixty foot tall blue fern. There was no cave and no Squeaky, there was only the mysterious crumpled note clutched tightly in his great silver hand.

  Chapter 33

  Laurus

  A scruffy and disheveled Orville Mouse tumbled out of the blue ferns onto a broad rocky precipice. “Creekers, that was terrifying, a hundred times worse than the giant centipedes on Periculum.”

  As Brother Solus had predicted, the creatures they encountered in the ferns had been nightmarish, great horrible wormy slithering things with hooks and claws and blinking eyes, creatures that made Proto grin like a mouseling on its birthday. When the hordes of chattering iridescent blood beetles had swarmed down from the forest canopy, spitting out poisonous darts, Orville had instinctively tried to blink a sphere of defense, forgetting Brother Solus’ dire warning. Instead of being surrounded by an invisible energy shield, the adventurers found themselves trapped inside a towering circular wall of gleaming Morsennium. Proto’s climbing rope and heavy grappling hook had saved the day.

  “Whoa, look at that!” Orville’s eyes were on a magnificent sprawling city far below them. “It’s bigger than Cathne, and look at all the flying ships, there’s hundreds of them. How could there be a city down there? Where did it come from?”

  “Where did the ocean come from? Where did Bellumia come from? This is Elysian.” Sophia peered over the edge of the precipice. “We’re at least two miles above the city. We’ll have to make our way down the cliffs using the climbing rope, then find a way through the city. It’s going to be a tough climb.”

  “Go through the city? That doesn’t sound very safe. We have no idea who lives there, it could be filled with bloodthirsty pirates.”

  “Would they be riding carnivorous centip
edes and waving big axes?”

  “All I’m saying is we don’t know if they’ll be friendly or not.”

  “Orville, clearly millions of people live in that city, and I guarantee they won’t pay any attention to us. I grew up near a city almost as big as this one, and that’s how it is. Everyone is so busy they don’t pay any attention to anyone else. It’s probably best not to make eye contact though.”

  “If they have eyes. They probably have feelers and tentacles.”

  “You’re being a nervous ninny. Any creatures who can build a city that beautiful won’t be scary.”

  Squeaky’s flying skills proved invaluable during their descent. He soared below them, searching out the safest route down the nearly vertical cliff face, carving secure footholds for them with his destructor beam.

  “We should bring Squeaky on all our adventures. Let’s take him back to Muridaan Falls.”

  The prospect of bringing Squeaky home helped to elevate Proto’s dismal mood.

  “An excellent idea, he would make a fine and trusted companion for me if I am to be spending any amount of time in the Cube.”

  “What are you doing at the Cube? Is it some kind of experiment?”

  Proto was forming his reply when the twelve foot wide sparkling translucent bubble floated up next to them. Seated inside the bubble was a Mintarian, a look of grave concern on his face.

  “How did you get up here? Where’s your Bubble Rider?”

  Orville’s jaw dropped. “It’s a Mintarian riding inside a bubble. He’s riding inside a bubble.”

  “Climb over to that ledge and I’ll give you a lift down. This is far too dangerous a spot to be climbing. What were you thinking?”

  “We’re sort of lost.”

  “Okay, climb over to that big ledge so I can pick you up.”

  The adventurers made their way across the cliff face to the wide ledge, a perilous undertaking involving Squeaky tying the climbing rope around a massive outcropping of rock and them swinging over to the ledge. The Mintarian bubble ship floated up next to them.