“You made gold?”
“It is a simple task if one understands the Lamotelokhai. No more difficult than the transformation of your flying vessel into the soil of the Earth so that it may nourish new flora to replace the trees it destroyed. But alas, objects of gold have no value here, and I have long since grown weary of their artistic worth.”
“This ability could make you the richest man in the world.”
“Not true, Quentin. If the Lamotelokhai were introduced to civilized society, then these items would hold no more value there than they do here.”
Quentin had to admit there was logic to this. If people could create whatever they wanted, there would be nothing to want. Buying and selling would be obsolete. But then so would hunger, and sickness, and death. Before he could make this argument, Samuel went on.
“I once made many such things, but I have long ago returned them to the earth from whence they came. Instead I turned to more considerable pursuits.”
Quentin held the heavy sphere out to him, and Samuel exchanged it for the butterfly, which was also shockingly heavy. “Such as breeding new animals and plants,” Quentin said.
“Directing the biological process is far more difficult—and rewarding—than working with the simple elements of the earth. Are you fond of butterflies, Quentin?”
Quentin paused. “I guess so.”
“Well, I am fond of all the insects of the world, but I have particular passion for butterflies. That,” Samuel pointed to a large blue and black butterfly circling the room, “is a species new to science, as are the others you see here.”
Quentin responded at once. “Maybe they were new to science a hundred fifty years ago, but now most all large butterflies have been identified.”
“These are quite new, I assure you. I have created them myself.”
Again, Quentin’s curiosity was piqued. It was one thing to breed a sago grub or a spider to grow larger. It was a very different matter to develop a new species. As he looked at the butterflies, his eyes were drawn to a particularly large white one on the ceiling. The butterfly was clinging to a glimmering green chrysalis attached to a living vine that seemed to be part of the hut, and was stretching its wings for the first time. And there were dozens of other chrysalises on the ceiling, of different sizes and colors.
Samuel gestured to the ceiling. “You see, I amuse myself by creating new butterflies. They emerge from their cocoons and fly about my hut. Rather pleasing, is it not?”
Quentin admitted that it was.
Samuel seemed as if he were about to say more, but hesitated. He studied Quentin, creases forming over his eyes. “I have brought you here for a purpose, and I have delayed it enough. I have said to you before, have I not, that the Lamotelokhai has no limits?”
Quentin took one last look at the gold butterfly and handed it back to him. “I assumed you were exaggerating.”
“During my years here, I have carried out hundreds of experiments in order to discover the true nature of the Lamotelokhai. I have learned much. But in recent months I fear I may have engaged questions that should remain unanswered.” Again Samuel paused. “My most recent experiments, I believe, may concern you and your party.”
“In what way?”
“The timing of your arrival gives me reason to think it was not a mere coincidence.” Samuel placed the two gold objects back in the corner. He returned carrying something wrapped in leather and laid it gently on the table. He glanced up at a mat of woven fibers hanging on the wall and adjusted the table to line it up with the mat. He pulled a cord that bound the package shut, and the leather fell open. It contained nothing more than a dull lump of clay. Samuel pressed on the clay, forcing it into an elongated mound stretching across the tabletop. He then stopped moving, his hands resting on the mound, the angle of his body hiding his face.
Perhaps a full minute passed, and Quentin began to wonder. “Everything alright?”
Samuel finally straightened up and turned. “Quentin, have you an object in your possession that is familiar to you? Perhaps the mbolop talisman?”
Quentin pulled the figurine from his pocket.
Samuel pointed with his foot to a spot on the floor. “If you could position yourself here.”
Quentin obliged. This put him in line with the table and the mat hanging beyond it.
“And now,” Samuel said, “throw the talisman at the shield. And please indulge me by throwing it with all the force you may muster.”
Whether Samuel was crazy or not, Quentin was curious enough to comply. He pulled back and hurled the talisman. It hit the mat—twice. Two solid thumps. The sounds were only a split second apart, but there were clearly two of them.
Quentin stared, confused. The light in the hut was too dim to see what had happened.
“Go and see for yourself,” Samuel said.
Quentin sidestepped the table and knelt below the mat. The talisman appeared to have broken. He picked up the pieces. “What the hell?” he said.
It was not broken at all. There were two of them, fully formed and identical.
Mbaiso was there when Bobby and Ashley reached the forest floor. The two new tree kangaroos emerged from the brush and stopped just behind Mbaiso, forming a triangle.
“They are so cute!” Ashley said. “Pretty quiet, though, for animals that talk.”
“They don’t talk with their mouths. They use their hands.” Bobby couldn’t think of a greeting, so he just made the signs for each of their names. The tree kangaroos didn’t respond. He glanced at Ashley. “I’ll ask them where Mr. Darnell and Samuel are.” He tried several gestures he thought might render this question, including the one he had learned for Samuel.
This time Mbaiso responded by signing. A scene appeared in Bobby’s mind. He was moving through the forest with the tree kangaroos hopping along the ground ahead.
“They want us to follow them,” Bobby said. “Did you see the picture?”
She eyed him. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
The three tree kangaroos hopped away. Mbaiso turned to them, waiting.
“Of course,” Ashley muttered.
Without knowing their destination, they followed. As they walked the silence became awkward, so Bobby spoke up. “We have a name for Mbaiso. We should name the others.”
“Just ask their names if you can talk to them.”
“They told me already, but I don’t know how to say them. Here’s what they are.” Bobby went through the hand motions he had learned. Then he turned quizzically to Ashley.
She scrunched her mouth to one side. “Just call them Mbaiso Two and Mbaiso Three.”
Bobby considered this. “Let’s call them Tupela and Tripela.” He had learned some of the pidgin language used in Wamena using his smartphone tablet. These were the words for “two” and “three.” He pointed out to Ashley that Tupela looked to him like a female and had more bronze on her face, and that Tripela’s eyes were darker.
After walking some minutes in silence, Ashley said, “How do you keep all the memories out of your head?”
Bobby knew what she meant. With his now-perfect memory, he couldn’t stop reliving the events of the last few days. “I can’t. What stuff do you remember most?”
“Mostly Lori and Brent, and things we did together.”
“Your parents.” It still threw Bobby off when she called them by their first names.
“When I was little we did more together,” she said. “I was just remembering when we went to Branson. It was the best time ever.”
“Your parents are still together then.”
Ashley let out a grunt. “Yeah, still together. I guess it’s good they are.”
“Mine aren’t,” Bobby said.
Ashley stared ahead. “I know.” Then she turned to him. “Do you think these Papuans will help us get home?”
“They haven’t killed us, so they must be planning to help us, right?”
“Maybe they just don’t have refrigerators to kee
p us fresh.”
It took a moment for Bobby to get it. “Jesus, Ashley.”
The tree kangaroos led them to an area of gigantic trees. Some of the trunks were huge, like redwoods, and the forest floor was darker in the shade of these giants.
Finally, Ashley stopped and called out, “Mr. Darnell! Samuel!”
The tree kangaroos stopped. Bobby tried signing again, but they didn’t respond.
“Bobby, we’re being watched,” Ashley said, her voice low.
Bobby followed her gaze. Two Papuan tribesmen watched them from behind a tree. He looked around and saw more. He whispered, “They’re all around us.”
“We’re looking for Samuel,” Ashley called out. “Is he here?”
The Papuans watched them for a moment more, and then they stepped into full view. Bobby counted seven in all. His pulse quickened as they approached. The men formed a circle around them. Bobby had seen three of them before, the same three they had first met at the plane, including Sinanie with his green feathers.
Sinanie pointed to the tree kangaroos. “Mbakha-leké mbolop?”34
Bobby and Ashley glanced at each other. Mbaiso hopped closer and began signing, talking to the Papuans. Bobby watched the signs and another vision appeared in his mind. Inside the tree house of his dreams, a tree kangaroo crouched in front of the Lamotelokhai. The creature was signing as if trying to talk to it. Then the kangaroo vaporized into a wisp. The wisp swirled and grew larger. It became solid again, and it was no longer a kangaroo—it was Bobby. He watched himself place both hands against the Lamotelokhai. And then the vision vanished.
The Papuans chattered to each other, apparently excited about Mbaiso’s message. One of them pointed his finger at Bobby. “Yu nggulun!”35
Bobby shrugged. “I don’t understand.”
“What the hell’s happening?” Ashley said.
“I’m not sure. Mbaiso said something about me touching the thing in the tree.”
Sinanie pointed to Bobby and waved for him to walk. He spoke rapidly, and Bobby heard the words, yu nggulun, again.
“I guess we’re going to the tree,” Bobby said.
“No, we’re not,” Ashley said. “We came to get medicine for Mrs. D.”
The Papuans and tree kangaroos all seemed to be waiting. Bobby turned to Mbaiso and signed what he could to explain what Ashley had said. Mbaiso signed back. In Bobby’s mind a vision appeared of Ashley and a Papuan man walking, and then the two were in the tree house, and the Papuan was giving medicine to Mrs. Darnell. The meaning was clear.
It took some arguing, but Ashley agreed. Bobby would go on with the others, and Ashley would go back with a man named Ansi. Ansi seemed to smile at everything. He wore a penis gourd with black painted patterns, and like the others he had a leather medicine pouch hanging from his neck. He was the first one Bobby had seen who wore paint on his face. A band of black ran across his eyes from one ear to the other. There was a white stripe above it, across his forehead, and one below it, across his nose. He reminded Bobby of a raccoon.
When Ashley and Ansi left, the tree kangaroo Bobby had named Tripela followed them. Bobby watched as they moved away, two humans and a kangaroo. Which of these three doesn’t belong, he thought, smiling to himself.
The remaining Papuans formed a single file line, with Bobby at the middle, and they made their way toward what Bobby assumed would be the Lamotelokhai tree. Eventually the tree canopy became so dense that only a few slivers of sunlight made it through. Bobby kept an eye on the nearly solid ceiling above them, and soon he saw it—a darker area with no light passing through. But this tree house was not rectangular like the others. Instead it kept going, like a long tunnel. Walking beneath it, Bobby kept glancing up to see if it would end, but it didn’t. Finally there was a larger shadow, a hut attached to the tunnel. As Bobby gazed at it, he ran into the back of the tribesman in front of him.
“Oh, sorry,” he said. He realized the entire group had stopped.
“Khofé mbakha mo-mba-té?” The Papuan said.36
Bobby shrugged and apologized again. They were at the base of a great tree. Mbaiso scrambled up the trunk, and soon a rope ladder appeared from above. Bobby watched it fall, uncoiling in the air, and he thought of the wisp of smoke from his last vision. As the first Papuan climbed, Bobby inspected the huge trunk. In his dream, after the stars and running into the earth, Mbaiso had led him here to this very tree. The back of his neck began to tingle.
The Papuans motioned for him to climb next, and soon he stood in the tree house with Sinanie and the other tribesmen. Next to them was an opening in the wall where the hanging tunnel joined the hut. And it was not the only tunnel. Bobby counted five others. They all branched out from this room, like spokes from the hub of a wheel.
The men pointed to the tree growing through the hut’s floor. Bobby scrutinized the bulge where the tree split at chest level. It was just as it had been in his dream—smooth and gray, like a lump of clay pressed around the tree.
The Papuans talked excitedly as Bobby stepped closer, but when he reached out for it they fell silent. His hand shook as he held it just above the surface. He didn’t know why he should be afraid of it now, but he couldn’t stop shaking, so he pressed his hand against it. It felt warm, and he could push his fingertips into it like mud. A tingly feeling started in his hand and moved up his arm, the same feeling he’d had upon swallowing the stuff from Mbaiso’s gut. The sensation spread into his neck and face, up to his scalp. He closed his eyes to fight off the panic that had nearly overwhelmed him before.
And then something happened. Symbols appeared in his mind. They were symbols he recognized. He’d seen them artfully etched into the shafts of the Papuans’ spears. But now, displayed the way they were, he recognized them from before that. He knew these symbols because he had worked with them for two years. His eyes sprang open, and the symbols were still there, plain as day.
Bobby now knew what the Lamotelokhai was.
Chapter Fifteen
Quentin examined the two figurines. They were identical in every way, even the smudges and flaws.
Samuel waited patiently for him to study the objects before speaking. “It would be difficult to provide an account of all events leading to my discovery of such a phenomenon. However, some explanation is needed.” He grabbed one of the chairs and offered it to Quentin, and then sat in the other. “Imagine living in this place for all of the years that I have. It is true I have enjoyed more than a lifetime’s worth of scientific pursuits. But there are times when I feel a great yearning to return to the life I once lived. I have told you of the murder of my fellow travelers, which was when I fell into the midst of my Papuan hosts. I remember the day as if it were only moments ago. But many days have passed since. Fifty-two thousand and five-hundred twenty-four, if you care to know.”
Quentin tried to do the math in his head, but Samuel continued.
“That is all the days of your lifetime and threefold more, Quentin. Imagine it.”
Quentin did, and it made him feel hollow.
“I once had a family. A mother and a father, and there was a dear woman, for whom I cared very much.” Samuel’s eyes flicked toward Quentin. “Her name was Lindsey, if you can imagine such a coincidence. Lindsey Ennis.” He pronounced the name in a whisper, like he wasn’t sure it would come out right. “We were to be married upon my return.”
“I didn’t know that,” Quentin said quietly.
“I see her face every day, as if we had only just parted.” Samuel shook his head. “She and my parents are all long since passed away, I imagine.” He paused for a moment. “As I have studied the Lamotelokhai, I have uncovered surprising qualities. In fact, one might reasonably infer that it can be made to perform any task, no matter how improbable.”
Quentin eyed the two statuettes. “I’m starting to see how you might think that.”
“Recently I found myself in a particularly dreadful state of regret. In my troubled condition, I attempted a most irra
tional action.”
“What action was that?”
“To employ the assistance of the Lamotelokhai in returning to my previous life.”
Quentin waited for more explanation, but none came. “You mean to help you escape from here? To get back to your home in England?”
Samuel leveled his gaze at him. “Perhaps. But more precisely, to my time.”
Was Samuel trying to make a joke? He wasn’t smiling, so Quentin said, “You’re still here, so I guess it didn’t work.”
“Indeed. There are some pursuits that are not for men to follow. In my despair I strayed into such a pursuit. My actions have caused suffering.”
“So you tried to go back in time—back to what, 1850?”
“I departed from England in the year of 1865.”
“And it didn’t work. What does that have to do with me, and with people suffering?”
Samuel rose from his chair and paced. “It is possible that the Lamotelokhai’s only limits are those of the man seeking its truths. My challenge lies in my own capacity for conveying to the Lamotelokhai what it is that I seek.”
Quentin thought of Samuel resting his hands on the substance before telling him to throw the talisman.
Samuel continued. “In my condition, I acted hastily, and the results were disastrous.”
“What results?”
“That is exactly what I have been trying to find out. From my observations, I can conclude that upon my request, the Lamotelokhai influenced the passage of time.”
Quentin began to speak, but Samuel held up his hand.
“I managed to duplicate the event under more controlled conditions, such as you have witnessed on the table here. Quentin, I have concluded that the second talisman could appear only if the passage of time were altered as the first flies over the table. That, in fact, is what I instructed the substance to do. But something unexpected happened. Rather than simply transporting objects in time as I’d hoped it would do for me, the substance appears to alter the progression of time in the space near it, in this case directly above the table. It is my opinion that when an object passes through such a space at sufficient speed, this fuses two moments in time into a single location of space. This would explain the duplication of a physical object.”
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