Mobius

by Vincent Vale

  Fandoral gestured to the bungalow’s front door. “Knock hard. My friend Bardio is deaf in his left ear.”

  “You plan to leave us on a stranger’s doorstep?” said Allienora.

  “There’s no time for introductions,” said Fandoral. “I’ll return when the situation’s resolved.” He leaped back into the air-car, which immediately rose up and away.

  THE ONE VOICE

  We crept up the stairs of the wooden bungalow. I knocked at the door and waited. From within, I heard footsteps and a progression of mumbles.

  A large peephole slid open and a pudgy face was revealed. “If you’re selling junk, sell it elsewhere. If you’re looking for Bardio, he isn’t here. If you’re here to rob me, I’ve got an Intersplit gun pointed at your belly.”

  “Fandoral brought us here,” I replied. “He said Bardio would help us.”

  “And which of you is Fandoral?”

  “None,” I answered. “Fandoral left for important matters. Do you know when Bardio will return?”

  The man didn’t reply. His face remained fixed in the peephole and his eyes started to close as if he were falling asleep.

  “Hey!” said Morion, poking the man’s fat cheek through the peephole. “Let us in. It’s not safe out here.”

  His eyes opened wide. “You said Fandoral?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Well, I have been a bit lonely. You can join me for dinner.”

  A bolt slid free and the door opened, revealing a short man with a potbelly, arms too long, and legs too short. In his hand was a carrot-like vegetable, not an Intersplit gun.

  With a hobbling gait, he led us into a rustic living space illuminated by a fire blazing in a stone hearth. A ladder in the center of the room led up into the trunk of the tree, which had been hollowed for a sleeping loft.

  “Sorry about my earlier hostility. We don’t get many people out in the swamp, and when we do, they always have an agenda. I’m Bardio.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Theron. This is Allienora, Orsteen, and Morion.”

  “I hope you like swamp weasel.” Bardio tended an animal carcass turning on an electric spit in the hearth. He then looked up to Orsteen. “You’re a big one, aren’t you? Be a good giant and fetch a cylinder of Aqua Vita from the kitchen. Tonight we’ll dine in proper fashion. Luckily, my wife isn’t here. She’s a bossy hag who’ll be out hunting swamp weasels until tomorrow.”

  I thought about the Fume’s beasts and looked out the window. “Are you aware the Obelisks have failed against the Fume? The dimensional barrier wasn’t created between the two universes.”

  “This is bad news,” responded Bardio. “My father worked his entire life on the Obelisks, as an engineer. He’s probably very upset. Come, we’ll discuss this tragedy over a delicious meal.”

  Bardio served his golden-brown roast with a side of sautéed roots, a salad of aromatic flowers, and a dessert of sweet dumplings.

  We sat at a crowded table and ate sparingly, while filling in the gaps with Bardio’s Aqua Vita—it was a refreshing but potent liquor. When the meal was over, Orsteen and Morion retired early to the sleeping loft, leaving Allienora, Bardio, and myself to share conversation over cups of hot tea.

  “Have you lived in the Guardian Sphere long?” asked Allienora. “It seems unnatural, living in a place with no sky, shielded from the infinities of the universe.”

  “I need not look past the boundaries of my bungalow and swamp to find peace. I relish the small things life has to offer. As well, I have my thoughts to keep me occupied. And my wife, despite all her intolerable qualities, provides certain... services that keep me in the pink.”

  I took a contemplative sip of tea. “Such is the way, hopefully sooner than later, I’d like to find the conditions of my life. It would be a peaceful change, living each day with only the necessities.”

  “Really?” said Allienora. “I’m surprised by your desire to lead such a reclusive and simple life, Theron.”

  I gazed inward. “Bardio’s right, though, isn’t he? It is the small things. It’s about looking across the room and seeing love for the first time. It’s about that feeling you get when you help someone in need. It’s about finding pride in your children.” I paused, thinking about the child I could’ve had with Cassandra—my unborn child killed by the Fume. I would’ve been proud of that child. I would’ve loved it with all my heart.

  “What’s wrong, Theron?” Allienora held my hand.

  “I’m fine.”

  Bardio uncapped a cylinder of Aqua Vita. “What of you, Allienora? Have you so far lived the life you’ve always dreamed of?”

  “True happiness is hard to find. So far, I’ve lived the life laid out before me—a life of public servitude, as my father did before me.”

  “It’s never too late for change,” said Bardio.

  “Change may not be necessary,” I said, looking deep into Allienora’s blue eyes. “Maybe we just need to be more aware of those small things, those small moments that fill our lives. We need only to recognize them as they happen.”

  “Moments like this one?” said Allienora.

  “Just like this one,” I said. “Happiness may be right in front of us.”

  A loud snoring interrupted our conversation and we laughed. Bardio had passed out with the cylinder of Aqua Vita dangling in his hand.

  I grabbed the cylinder and added a splash to our tea. “This small moment isn’t over yet, my dear.”

  In the morning, all in the bungalow woke up to the screams of a stout woman. She stood over our cots aiming a sophisticated weapon. “I should feed you all to the swamp. I don’t take lightly to squatters. Before I throw you out on your asses, where’s my worthless husband? Have you killed him? Speak fast—my Intersplit gun has a hair-trigger.”

  I looked around for Bardio. He was nowhere to be found. “Hold on, lady! It’s not what you think. We’re guests of your husband Bardio, who speaks highly of you.”

  “You’re a liar. If my husband spoke highly of me, it would be him drudging in the swamps to feed his fat belly. It would be me sitting on the porch enjoying the subtleties of life. He cares only about satisfying the hunger of his stomach and loins, both at the cost of my toil.”

  Morion, apparently faking sleep to avoid the woman, stirred from his silence. “These are hungers a man shouldn’t neglect. Otherwise, he may become susceptible to ill health and psychotic episodes.”

  The stout woman turned to Morion, fixed a hard gaze upon him, and then aimed her Intersplit gun between his eyes.

  “Dolia!” exclaimed Bardio, climbing up the ladder of the loft. “What’s the meaning of this? Put away your gun. Do you wish to scare our guests?”

  Dolia aimed the Intersplit gun at her husband. “Bardio, you’re a stupid and gullible man. Who are these trespassers?”

  I slowly got out of bed. “We were brought here by Fandoral, who assured us you’d be happy to give us shelter.”

  “Fandoral, you say?” Dolia’s eyes grew large. “This is even more reason to send you packing. It was Fandoral who sent me Bardio. And, after two hundred years, he’s yet to retrieve him. I’ll be sure to inform him I’m not a sanctuary for every common vagrant.”

  I put my hand on my heart. “Please, madam. We won’t be here long.”

  Dolia paused, released a sigh, and then lowered her Intersplit gun. “Clearly, I’ve become soft in my old age. I’ll allow you to stay.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “So... who are you, and why do you seek shelter in my swamp?”

  “We’re from Earth and her sibling planets,” I said. “We seek shelter since the Guardian Sphere is under attack by an army of black-winged beasts controlled by the Fume.”

  Like Bardio, Dolia seemed indifferent to the revelation. “Well, we mustn’t let such things ruin our appetites. It’s coming on lunchtime, and I have many swamp weasels eager for a swim in the stew pot.”

  Days passed, and with no word from Fandoral, we b
ecame restless. The black-winged beasts, though unseen, weighed heavy on everyone’s mind. Orsteen and I, for the majority of our time, kept a lookout on the porch. We maintained our sanity by talking with Bardio and drinking Aqua Vita at a leisurely pace.

  Presently, night fell on the swamp and we ate a dinner of swamp weasel stew. Everyone sat at ease except for me. I felt unsettled and jittery and at last my patience wore thin.

  “Why hasn’t Fandoral contacted us?” I said. “Who knows what’s going on out there? We need to find out. Bardio, how do you communicate with Fandoral?”

  “He’s easily contacted with this.” Bardio revealed a small tile and handed it to me.

  I took the device and held it close to my mouth. “Fandoral? Are you there?”

  “What are you doing?” said Bardio with a smile.

  “Trying to communicate with Fandoral.”

  “You squeeze it.”

  I squeezed the tile and the table we were eating at split in half. A translucent orb rose up and floated between us.

  A female face appeared in the orb and spoke, “How may I help you?”

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “I am the One Voice of this Guardian Sphere. I oversee all its vital core systems. How may I help you, Theron Mobius?”

  “You know my name?”

  “Of course. I’m a very old consciousness. My data-sphere is vast.”

  “We need to speak to Fandoral.”

  “Contact with the Impresario is currently limited to authorized personnel.”

  Bardio leaned forward. “I, Bardio, wish to speak to him.”

  “I’m sorry, Bardio. You’re not authorized either.”

  Bardio’s face suddenly transformed. He seemed more dignified, more intelligent. “I’m a class one deca-helix architect. I helped build your consciousness. I’m older than you, and your superior.”

  “You retired a long time ago, Bardio. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  Bardio growled. “What’s happening on this Guardian Sphere?”

  “A state of emergency has been issued. All inhabitants are advised to remain in their homes.”

  “Show me Central City!” said Bardio.

  “Data feeds are limited to authorized personnel,” replied the One Voice of the Sphere. “Please remain calm.”

  Bardio stood in anger, his face blood-red. I looked to Dolia and she seemed impressed, even aroused, by Bardio’s passion.

  “This only amplifies my fears,” I said. “We must leave this place. The time for waiting is over.” I pushed my bowl of swamp weasel stew forward and stood with purpose. “Where’s your craft?”

  “We have no craft,” said Bardio.

  “How do you acquire supplies, food, clothes, tools?” said Morion.

  “As I’ve said, we live a frugal life. We live off the land, seeking nothing extravagant.” Bardio’s mood strangely went from anger back to apathy. He returned to eating his swamp-weasel stew. I wondered how old he was and if he suffered from a touch of dementia.

  “Then we’ll hike through the forest channels to Central City,” said Orsteen.

  Bardio licked his bowl clean. “Such a journey would be far too difficult and take many weeks.”

  “And what would you know of this, Bardio!” said Dolia harshly. “The extents of your journeys are not beyond the outhouse. Your laziness is evident to all, as your ass has become flat from sitting.” Dolia turned to me. “Despite my husband’s uselessness, he’s right. The nearest dimensional archway is a hundred kilometers away. You may be able to use our neighbor’s craft, but he’s a bitter old hermit who’ll probably deny your request.”

  “Then we’ll take it by force,” replied Orsteen.

  “You’ve already been over-generous, Dolia,” I said. “Would it be too much to ask you to guide us there? On the way, we could assist you in hunting swamp weasels.”

  “It would be refreshing to have a competent man hunting by my side.” Dolia squinted at Bardio, who stared back with indifference.

  “When do we leave?” asked Allienora.

  “We’ll leave tomorrow.” Dolia inspected Allienora from head to toe, apparently taking stock of her slim figure. “Although, it would be wise if Theron and I go alone. The swamp isn’t friendly to delicate specimens like you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “You’ll only slow us down.”

  Allienora and Dolia’s eyes met in an awkward moment and Allienora finally responded: “If it must be, then I’ll wait here with Bardio, who may enlighten me with his fascinating intellect.”

  Dolia, ruffled by Allienora’s subtle remark, wrenched Bardio from his seat and marched him to bed.

  I poured a splash of Aqua Vita into Allienora’s cup. “Don’t let her bother you. I know your capabilities. I’ve seen you kill monsters before.”

  Allienora slugged down her drink, smiled at me, and then turned to Orsteen and Morion. “It looks like the three of us will get to sleep in. Grab another cylinder of Aqua Vita from the kitchen.”

  In the early morning, Dolia outfitted me with a pair of rubber waders that, despite cutting off circulation in my legs, provided a watertight seal and protection from the elements.

  Dolia led me out into the cool air and pointed in the direction of the neighbor’s bungalow. “It’s a half-day’s journey in that direction, Theron.”

  I sprang forward, but was stopped short by Dolia, who veered off the specified path. “We must take the long route, as the weasel swims. Although terrestrial, they spend most of their time in the depths of the swamp, hunting snails.”

  I suppressed my impatience and trudged close behind Dolia into waist-high water, each footstep a tug-of-war against the suction of swamp muck.

  The morning progressed with a rigorous hunt for swamp weasels. Dolia instructed me in the proper technique of flushing out the critters, which simply involved running through the water with high, knee-kicking strides. During my chaotic march, Dolia fired upon the resulting frenzy of swamp weasels.

  Once satisfied with our catch, we returned to solid ground, each lugging a full string of swamp weasels over our shoulders. We now took the straight course to the neighbor’s home.

  Dolia was a quiet woman when not in the presence of her husband. She was a breed of obvious distinction from Bardio, with a thick frame, short arms, and large breasts. Possibly a different species from Bardio altogether.

  Dusk approached as we completed the final leg of our journey. Immediately upon our arrival at the neighbor’s bungalow, we heard weapon-fire and smelled smoke in the air. We hid behind a bush and assessed the situation.

  Dolia readied her Intersplit gun. “Do you see anyone?”

  “I can see nothing with so much smoke.”

  A roar emanated from the fog.

  Dolia aimed her gun at the sound. “That wasn’t the mating call of the swamp weasel.”

  We again heard the blast of weapon-fire, and then the grisly wail of a man.

  Dolia, taking stock of her surroundings, sampled a nose-full of air. “Prepare yourself, a wind approaches.”

  And as predicted, a wind blew, taking with it all the smoke surrounding the bungalow. A black-winged beast was revealed, and in its claws hung the limp body of a man.

  “Poor Wimser,” said Dolia, adjusting her aim. “This beast will pay.”

  I pushed down her weapon before she could get off a shot. “Revenge won’t bring back Wimser. And your attack will only make things worse.”

  “I’m no bungler when it comes to putting a shot between the eyes of an animal.”

  “This may be true, but if you look beside the bungalow, you’ll discover the reason for my apprehension.”

  Dolia allowed her eye to wander from her gun’s targeting needle, and I pointed to two additional winged beasts inspecting a small air-car.

  We returned our attention to the first winged beast, which had yet to release Wimser from its claws. It studied the form of the carcass, pinching its soft tissues with stubby dig
its.

  Dolia hissed with outrage. “He plays with Wimser’s remains like a curiosity.”

  “I fear what comes next.”

  I cringed in horror as the black beast made a meal of Wimser. It gorged first on his legs, and then on the ample meat of his belly. The beast cast the half-devoured carcass to the ground and began undulating in a wave of violent spasms.

  I couldn’t help a small smile. “It appears Wimser’s getting his revenge, by inflicting a powerful case of indigestion on the beast.”

  “I don’t think it’s indigestion,” said Dolia.

  The beast underwent a disturbing transformation, its bones cracking and re-fusing. Its slumped posture straightened, its clawed digits lengthened into fingers, its long snout flattened, and, finally, its wings petrified, broke free, and fell to the ground like withered leaves.

  We watched in wonder as the beast, now more humanoid, approached his companions and let out a belch of apparent communication. The two beasts showed understanding and then inspected their companion’s new form. They marched to a pen holding small pig-like animals and gorged themselves. They, too, then underwent similar transformations, becoming more humanoid.

  One of the beasts stumbled upon Wimser’s Intersplit gun. At first, it handled it with an awkward grip, due either to unfamiliarity with such advanced weaponry or inexperience with its own newly developed fingers. After a brief examination of the weapon, it held it with a normal grip, and then fired it carelessly toward the air-car we had hoped to commandeer. The other two beasts looked at the explosion with something like amusement.

  “Damn it!” I said. “The air-car’s destroyed. We’re not dealing with mere beasts. They have the ability to adapt, change, and think both logically and independently.”

  Dolia raised her Intersplit gun and displayed a brave expression. “It’s time to test my mettle.” Without pause, she fired her Intersplit gun so quickly and so adeptly that the three shots were perceived as a single resonating blast. Each energy blast drove home, into the skulls of each of the three beasts. We waited for them to fall. But, as it happened, the beasts went unharmed. Their silver nano-fiber ingrained skin absorbed the blasts.