The Other Normals

by Ned Vizzini

Mortin holds his side. “Are you okay?” I ask. “I didn’t kick you that hard.”

  “It’s fine. I just—I’ve got a bruise there,” Mortin says, shaking it off.

  Ada holds me still. “Gamary will go nuts if you interfere with the Basin. Just relax your foot while we take the reading.”

  “But what are you reading? How does it work?”

  “Mortin? Permission to do a formal introduction?”

  He nods and waves her on, still holding his side.

  “Yes.” Ada pumps her fist. It’s wonderful to see. Ryu sighs like we’re wasting his time. Ada flits back around the room, carefully avoiding the thakerak, and returns with a notebook full of the strange writing that I saw on the bag of hepatodes. It’s a leather-bound notebook with a thick cover, alien but familiar—a school notebook. I’d know a school notebook no matter what language it was in. When she opens it, I see doodles in pencil on the side.

  “This is my first introduction,” she says. “It’s a big honor. I’ve been preparing.”

  “Like a test?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re doing great.”

  She clears her throat. “Peregrine Eckert—”

  “Perry. Perry’s fine.”

  “I like Peregrine.”

  “But I really—”

  Ada blinks. Her eyes are blue like her hair. When she blinks, I think maybe she doesn’t find me so shrimpy and untouchable.

  “Peregrine’s fine,” I agree.

  “Thank you. Peregrine Eckert, I’d like to welcome you to the World of the Other Normals!”

  32

  THERE’S A MOMENT WHEN IT FEELS LIKE people should clap, but no one claps, so I clap.

  “Hold still!” Mortin orders.

  “I have a question: what do you guys call it? When you’re talking to each other. You must call it something else. Some real name.”

  Ada looks to Mortin. “Show him,” he says. He slides a panel aside in the wall. Behind it is an array of buttons, dials, and wheels. He focuses on these while eyeing the rod in the water, which jitters as my ankle moves with my breathing and circulation.

  “It’s called—” Ada starts, and then her mouth moves but her voice cuts off, just like Dale Blaswell’s did back in the nurse’s office.

  “What?”

  Ryu laughs. Ada explains, “The true name can’t be understood by your mind. When you hear it, it doesn’t register.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I have to call this place something. ‘World of the Other Normals’ is too long. What about ‘Anormalia?’ No, that sounds like a disease.”

  “Hurry it up,” Ryu says.

  “Freaking Americans.” Mortin adjusts dials and levers. “They have such problems with names. I bring somebody over from Nepal, they understand that certain things can’t be expressed in words. But Americans need names.”

  “Continuing!” Ada says. “Peregrine, our universe split from yours six hundred million years ago.”

  “So it’s Earth? This is like Earth?”

  “It’s a planet like Earth, in a solar system like Earth’s, but a lot of things change in six hundred million years. When the split happened, shelled animals were just starting to appear. On Earth, you got dinosaurs and birds and humans. Here, we got other normals, like Mortin and me and Ryu.”

  Ryu smiles. “Baby, you could teach me a class any day.”

  Ada glares at him, but then he adjusts his lip ring with his tongue and cocks one eyebrow. She blushes. No way. That’s unfair. I can’t cock one eyebrow like that. I thought people could only do that in cartoons. I always move both eyebrows and it just looks like I’m surprised. Focus, Perry!

  “What about Gamary, the okapicentaur? Is he an ‘other normal’?”

  “Yes, we come in several varieties. There are highborn other normals, like all of us in this room, and ingresses—hybrid creatures—like Gamary. All part of our evolutionary tree. Mortin, how’s the reading coming?”

  “Good.” Mortin looks at the thakerak as my ankle twitches in midair. The white threads click and buzz in reaction to the small disturbances I produce in the water. It’s like an organic MRI.

  “Then—and I want you to relax, Peregrine—in the year twelve hundred fifty-eight ADD—”

  “AD,” Ryu corrects. “ADD is a different thing.”

  “Oh.” Ada takes a note. “Do you know a lot about Earth, Ryu?”

  “I got a dream, to go to Earth and make movies.”

  “Like a director?” I ask.

  “A writer-director, like Quentin Tarantino or David Lynch. Or a rock star. That’s my backup plan.”

  “Have you ever been to Earth, though?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” I can’t help but feel superior. “Too bad.”

  “You wanna get punched?”

  “Anyway, boys, in twelve hundred fifty-eight AD, our two universes came back together.”

  “How?”

  “That year, on Earth, the Bayt al-Hikmah was destroyed. It was a library in Baghdad, the greatest of its time.”

  “I should know this.... I play an RPG based on Arabian Nights.”

  “Yes, that’s very impressive. When the Mongols destroyed the Bayt al-Hikmah, they threw so many books into the Tigris River that it ran black with ink for six months. It was the greatest single loss of information ever in the history of Earth, and it happened to correspond with a great loss of information in our world, too. At that moment, the thakeraks here connected with fungi on Earth. So much knowledge was lost that it was possible for our universes to be, for an instant, together again. Ignorance as bliss. We started making trips.”

  “That’s impossible,” I say. “We would know. You couldn’t just have mystical beings going to Earth without people finding out—”

  “I’m not a mystical being, I’m a consultant,” Mortin says, making adjustments at the wall.

  “We were shocked at first, but we’re disciplined people,” Ada says. “The Appointees, when they learned about the connection, strictly regulated trips.”

  “Who are the Appointees?”

  “Our leaders,” Ryu grunts.

  “A bit like your president,” Ada says, “except the Appointees are appointed for life, and they appoint new Appointees before they pass away. They keep us safe; they keep us organized—”

  Mortin huffs.

  “What’s that?” Ryu asks. “You have something seditious to say?”

  “And they’re vitally important for everyone’s safety,” Ada continues in an everybody-stay-calm tone. “The Appointees controlled exploration of your universe as we found out about the correspondences between your world and ours. But now, the princess, daughter of the Lead Appointee, has been kidnapped by a terrible monster named Ophisa. Our world has been thrown out of balance. War and sickness are spreading through the land. The Appointees are detaining anyone suspected of working with Ophisa. These are dark times.”

  “Sounds like you need a hero,” I say, thinking, You’re lucky this is my territory. “What’s Ophisa like? Serpent? Humanoid?”

  “He’s a horrific mutant beast that combines the insectoid and reptilian, with a hundred ten eyes and poison fangs, as tall as a tree,” Ada says.

  “All right!” Mortin steps back from the wall. “Perry, you’re fine. You can get up now.”

  “What?”

  “Reading’s done. Ada has proven sufficiently distracting—”

  “But it was just getting good—”

  “Your ankle’s okay. It’s not going to cause any problems for your correspondent—”

  “Who is that? What did you do?”

  “Explanation time is over, Perry. I’m taking a quick smoke break, and then we’re sending you back to camp.” Mortin grabs some pebbles from behind a barrel.

  “Hey!” Ryu says. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Calm down, pipsqueak.” Mortin lights up. “Get your boss in here if you need someone to yell at me. I’m not gonna be lectured by a kid with a
cheap lip ring who’s got a crush on my intern.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Mortin blows a smoke ring at Ryu. The pebbles don’t make him calm the way cigarettes make Sam calm; they make him giddy and, I think, they convince him that whatever he’s doing is cute. “Pretty soon people are gonna be tripping all over themselves to give me my job back for saving the princess! Ophisa’s gonna be a thing of the past, all thanks to me and Perry here, and some attenuate errand boy is going to tell me how to live my life? I don’t think so. Get out!”

  I expect a reaction from Ryu—verbal if not physical—but he takes the suggestion. He blows a kiss at Ada, sneers at Mortin, ignores me, and leaves the room. Just like that.

  33

  ADA BANGS HER FIST ON MORTIN’S CHEST. “What is wrong with you? You can’t smoke here! He’s going to get Gamary!”

  “So? The old joker’s just trying to look tough. I’m not going to let him push me around.”

  The door slams back open. Ryu and Gamary enter.

  “Look at that!” Mortin says. “Just talking about you two. Sorry, I know no smoking. Putting it out now. Got a little carried away.” He dumps the pebbles on the ground and smiles, but Gamary just points at him, a deep distance in his expression. “That’s him, Officer.”

  Three monsters enter the room.

  They’re all hybrid other normals—ingresses, I remember from Ada’s introduction. The front two are men from the waist down, or at least from where their legs come out of their getmas, and fish creatures above, with scaly chests, spindly arms, fins sticking out of their backs, purple bulbous eyes, and jagged teeth. They wear belts with handcuffs hanging off. Their stench hits me—like rotting fish and beached seaweed—as they stand at attention with spears. The best I can say for them is that at least they’re up front about being monsters.

  The third one is more subtle. He’s a human from the waist up—if he held your gaze, you’d think he was just a dour man with a thick, dark mustache—but his lower half is composed of thick, slimy octopus tentacles. He makes puckered sucking noises against the wood as he approaches. He’s the leader; the other two stand still as he moves. He’s shirtless, wearing a long burlap skirt (kilt, I correct myself), underneath which his tentacles bloom. He has a lantern-jawed face, brown hair, and controlling eyes. He rotates his palm on the hilt of a conspicuously large sword in a jeweled scabbard as he looks at Mortin, Ada, and me.

  “Mortin Enaw, you and your associates are under arrest.”

  34

  I’M READY TO RESIST. I SIT UP, BRING MY fists to my face, and, even though I’m facing two fish-men and one octopus-man (and even though my ankle is still tied to a rope), move my hands in little circles like a boxer. I figure I’ll wiggle out, jump at the octopus-man, push him into the thakerak, and hit it so it sparks up again. With luck it’ll zap him back to Camp Washiska Lake, where counselors or a SWAT team will deal with him. Then Mortin and Ada and I will handle the others. As I play through this scenario, I realize I’m not treating the World of the Other Normals like a hallucination, or a dream, or even real life; I’m treating it like a game. Games prepared me for it. And it has something to win—the princess, whoever she is, or Ada, who is a princess as far as I’m concerned.

  Ada mouths at me, “Don’t move.” I put my hands down.

  “You’re suspected of performing unlicensed tweaks, Mortin,” the octopus-man says, “and considering him”—me, as indicated by tentacle—“I’ve got ample evidence to bring you in. Plus Ryu tells me you’ve spoken with questionable tone about the Appointees.”

  “I’m trying to help the Appointees! I’m trying to get the princess back!”

  “Mortin … such a sad, delusional case. You used to be one of the brightest minds in correspondence, one of Sulice’s youngest field operatives, and here you are, descended into madness at the hands of that most plebeian substance, earthpebbles.”

  “Shut up!” Mortin lunges forward before Ada can stop him. In a blur, the octopus-man shoots out a tentacle and wraps it around his wrist, twisting him off balance. He lands on his tail; with a quiet crick, his lighter cracks apart.

  “No! That’s vintage!”

  The octopus-man restrains Mortin’s wrists with one tentacle and his ankles with another. He pulls out his sword with one of his buff human arms and points it at Mortin’s neck while the fish-men aim their spears at his chest.

  “All right,” Mortin says. “I surrender. But don’t hurt the boy; it’s vital that he return to Earth to complete a mission.”

  “Nobody’s returning anywhere! Handcuff this criminal and get him out of here!”

  The fish-men advance on Mortin, kneel down, and babble at each other in a rotten, wet language. They snap cuffs on his wrists and ankles. One of them throws him over his shoulder. Mortin looks desperately at me and Ada as he’s carried off. “Ada, get him back to Earth! Explain about the princess!”

  The door slams. Mortin’s gone. The tentacled man steps toward me. With one tug, he undoes the rope around my ankle. It flops on the table. “Ow!” I curse myself for saying something so wimpy in front of Ada and Ryu, who’s smiling at me in a way that demands a girder be pushed at his face.

  “You’ll be getting further explanations from me,” the octopus-man says. I grit my teeth. Jake taught me once how to deal with cops: first, treat them as deferentially as possible; second, lie about everything.

  “My name’s Officer Tendrile,” he says. “What’s yours?”

  “John … Johnson,” I say. Will it work? In Creatures & Caverns, the determining statistic for whether someone believes your lies is Personality. Pekker Cland is Personality 5.

  Officer Tendrile wraps a tentacle around my left wrist, snaps it over to my right, and squeezes both. He feels cold, damp, and strong. Where his suckers bite into my skin, a sharp burn, like sandpaper, runs up my arms. Blood escapes from under his tentacle.

  “Aaagh!”

  “Listen to me.” He moves close. His big pecs twitch. Behind him, Gamary looks guilty. “I’ve never had a problem with humans. I don’t like running spears lengthwise through their digestive cavities, or feeding them to sand sharks, or just plain eating them, like my servant here.” Next to him, the remaining fish creature gnashes his teeth, revealing a forked black tongue. “But if you start lying to me, things will get very unpleasant for you very quickly.”

  “Don’t hurt him!” Ada says. “He’s sensitive!”

  “I don’t need to be lectured by an attey!” Officer Tendrile snaps. “You witches think everybody’s so sensitive. He looks fine to me. Guard! How’s that blood taste?”

  I stand stock-still as the fish creature comes up to my wrists, bends down, and licks the blood seeping out from under Officer Tendrile’s coiled tentacle. He nods and grins.

  “Strong blood, strong body,” Officer Tendrile says. “Don’t listen to these conjurer scum. You’re just fine, Mr....”

  “Eckert. Perry Eckert.”

  “That’s better. Guard?”

  The fish creature cuffs my hands behind my back. My blood clings to the cool metal. Do something, Perry! Pekker Cland wouldn’t give up in this situation! He’d bust out with a pep talk from Sam. But now the fish creature is cuffing my ankles. “No, wait, I’m—ow!” I stagger and fall. I land on my shoulder next to the destroyed remnants of Mortin’s lighter. “My ankle’s injured!”

  “Suck it up,” Officer Tendrile says. “What’s the matter with you?” He puts a tentacle under Ada’s face. “And you. What a well-formed piece of equipment! You could be making big money dancing Upper.”

  Ada moves her lips around like she’s thinking of a witty comeback. I glance at the splintered lighter behind me—a small scatter of wood and metal slivers. I roll my cuffs against it. Some pieces get picked up by the blood that’s congealing on me and stick to my skin. I don’t know why I do it. Maybe I’ll be able to help Mortin put the lighter back together later. Ada unleashes her comeback—but it isn’t words. It’s spit. Splat.

&n
bsp; “Cuff ’er!” Officer Tendrile wipes off his mustache. The fish creature secures Ada’s wrists behind her back and kicks her notebook across the room. He has tawny human feet.

  “Hey!”

  “Get them out of here! Let’s go!”

  “What are we being arrested for?” I insist.

  “For being yourself.”

  The fish creature wraps his scaly arms under my armpits and flings me onto Gamary’s back. I cough into his coarse okapi hair. Ada is next, but she gets tossed on in the opposite direction, so that all I see are her shackled feet. She has normal feet—everyone in this world seems to go barefoot—but her toenails are silver, with small glittering sparkles.

  “I like your toenail polish,” I say. I know it’s good to give girls compliments.

  “Shut up!” Officer Tendrile says. He slaps me across the face with a tentacle. “Move!”

  Gamary lopes forward. Ryu stays at the thakerak. “Well done,” Officer Tendrile tells him. “Have a good time checking out New York, and I wish you luck with your movie-making rock-star career.”

  “Cool, Officer.”

  Punk, I think.

  “It’s not polish,” Ada says quietly. “I’m an attenuate other normal. Our nails are like that.”

  She wiggles her toes. The light that shines through the water glints off them. Despite myself, despite the situation, I blush, and I’m glad she can’t see as Officer Tendrile leads us out of the thakerak chamber into

  SUBBENIA

  35

  MOST OF THE TRAVEL THAT TAKES PLACE between Earth and the World of the Other Normals happens in Subbenia, centrally located, where Mortin brought me when he took me over. The city stretches from under the Great Beniss Basin to its shores to the mountains that surround it, and, as is true in New York, cities that are economically dependent on travel and free enterprise are homes for disease, crime, adventure, and very odd smells, which smack me in the face as Gamary carries me down the passage from his thakerak-for-rent to the central market of Penner. Penner is a giant subterranean chamber, two hundred feet tall and several city blocks long, filled with bickering, chattering, otherworldly creatures in an open-air flea market.