Quentin screamed, “Addison! Look at me!”
Addison stopped his attack and spun around. Quentin caught a full view of his face. It was torn and blood-soaked. But there was something more. The shape of Addison’s face seemed to shift before Quentin’s eyes, as if it were made of clay.
Suddenly, from behind, the Papuan woman smashed her club into Addison’s head. It was a crushing blow, but Addison ignored it. In fact, he seemed to smile at Quentin as the depression in his skull smoothed itself out. The woman moved to strike again.
“Manda-é,” Samuel said. “Yu lé khomilo-mbo iMoné.” He motioned for her to wait.45
Addison’s body tottered peculiarly as he edged closer to Quentin.
“You came back,” Addison said. “But you can’t hurt me now. You can try. Do you want to hurt me?” Addison held his arms out as if inviting Quentin to strike him.
“No, I don’t want to hurt you,” Quentin said. “I just want my son back.”
“Your son…” Addison looked uncertain for just an instant, but then the smirk returned. “Not here.” Addison stepped closer, holding out a hand smeared with brown clay.
Quentin backed away. Now, his mind screamed. He flicked his wrist, throwing the substance directly at Addison’s face.
Addison’s hand was a blur and he struck the stuff in mid air. The lump of Lamotelokhai splattered and fell aside. But smaller pieces struck Addison’s face. His smile faded, and then he charged, shoving the material in his own hand toward Quentin.
Quentin managed to grab Addison’s wrist with both hands, but he tumbled back under the weight. He struck the floor hard but focused all his effort on holding the hand away from his face. But then the struggle abruptly stopped. Addison simply relaxed, allowing Quentin to push him over on the floor. The hatred in his eyes melted away and his face went slack. Quentin rose to his feet. Addison’s eyes darted from one of them to another but showed no expression.
Bobby stepped to Quentin’s side. “It worked, Mr. Darnell. You got some in him.” Without another word, Bobby moved to the Lamotelokhai and began working with it.
Quentin looked to Lindsey. She stood with her hands over her mouth, staring at Addison. Bodies were scattered on the floor. They all appeared to be conscious, but they just lay there, making no attempt to get up. Bobby stood in the center of the hut shuffling one hand rapidly in the air, moving objects that no one else could see. And at Quentin’s feet, dying, lay a creature that was his son. He had killed Addison himself, an appalling duty no parent should ever have to perform. But he had done it.
Quentin knelt down and cautiously rested his hand on Addison’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Addison. I’m so sorry.”
Addison suddenly sat up. He looked at Quentin with confusion. His eyes drifted around the hut and then locked onto a spot on the roof. There was a hole there, as if someone had torn through it. Without a word, Addison bounded across the hut and leapt for the hole in the roof. He pulled himself through and was gone.
The hut was completely still.
“Remarkable,” Samuel finally said. He turned from the hole in the roof to face Bobby. “Please make haste, Bobby. Our remaining moments are few.” Samuel then sat on the floor, holding his stomach as if he were sick.
Bobby scraped a handful of the substance from the Lamotelokhai. “I’ve got it!” He stepped away from the tree. “At least I think so.” He then smeared some onto his tongue.
Bobby handed Samuel a portion, and then he went to Ashley and Carlos and placed some in their mouths. They accepted it without argument. Bobby moved to the Papuans, and they each accepted a portion. He then turned to Quentin and Lindsey. “Did Addison get any on you?”
“I don’t think so,” Quentin said. He then looked at the hole in the roof. “Maybe we can find him. We can give him some, too.”
“Addison doesn’t need this stuff,” Bobby said. “He’s not dying.”
Lindsey finally took her hands from her mouth. “He’s not?”
“I didn’t want it to kill him,” Bobby said. “I couldn’t figure out how to make him the way he was before. So I made him forget.”
“Forget what?” Quentin said.
“Everything,” Bobby said. Then he looked at the floor. “It was all I could think of.”
Following the boy known as Addison was demanding. The tree kangaroo, Mbaiso, moved nimbly from tree to tree, but the much larger human boy changed directions frequently, apparently without a destination, and the boy sometimes walked on the ground but then would take to the trees as skillfully as any mbolop.
Mbaiso made no effort to be stealthy, but the boy showed no recognition or interest.
Mbaiso finally paused, claws piercing the spongy bark of a breadfruit tree and holding him steady as his body heaved from the efforts of his lungs to meet the demand for air. He turned and waited for Tupela and Tripela. The other tree kangaroos were several trees behind, and he watched as they bounded between branches, their weight counterbalanced by long tails of mottled brown.
When the three creatures were side-by-side, they watched the human boy recede into the tangle of the forest. It appeared that this human was no longer relevant, so there was little purpose in continuing to follow him. And the tree kangaroos would surely be needed for what was to come next. They descended to the forest floor. After looking one last time in the direction of the boy, they hopped off, making their way back home.
Before long, Mbaiso stopped. With a quick motion of his forelimbs he instructed the others to go on. He then began climbing and didn’t stop until he was high in the canopy, in a position where he could see for some distance. It was a suitable place to process information—to think. And there was much to consider.
Mbaiso was aware of his own origins and purpose. Many centuries ago, following a fierce incident such as Mbaiso had witnessed today, the villagers had determined that it was not their place to communicate directly with the Creator, the Lamotelokhai. The stricken villagers had made one last direct request, for the Lamotelokhai to produce an entity that could serve as a mediator. The Lamotelokhai had complied, as it always did, and had created a creature the villagers would be familiar with but possessing cognitive and data processing proficiencies allowing it to serve a multitude of functions. In short, Mbaiso had been important, to the Creator as well as the villagers.
Although unique, Mbaiso’s structure was biological. As a living creature, he was self-aware. And whether the Creator had intended it or not, Mbaiso was capable of making independent conclusions. Long ago he had determined that more could be accomplished if he were not the only mbolop, and from his own tissue and elements from the forest he had created the creatures now known to Bobby as Tupela and Tripela. This was one of many autonomous decisions Mbaiso had made over the years.
But now change was imminent, and Mbaiso‘s role in the events that would come next was unspecified. He found this to be unsettling.
Perhaps the new humans’ arrival was to be expected, but their behaviors and capabilities were unpredictable. Mbaiso could not know what might happen next. The humans would have to determine that.
There was so much to consider.
Mbaiso settled into a suitable spot and stared out at the expanse of trees and sky. Solar waves warmed his body and baked the forest canopy, throwing into high gear the molecular food-making machinery in the leaves of trees tall enough to emerge into direct sunlight. Countless insects in a thousand varieties buzzed over the canopy, swirling in the air like tempestuous thermals. Occasional birdcalls broke the insects’ monotonous drone: The piping of a fruit dove, the trill of a honeyeater, the shriek of a tiger-parrot—all names that Samuel had given to these birds. It was a calming, familiar scene, having changed little in the nearly ten thousand years of Mbaiso’s existence. But like most days in the Méanmaél River basin, drenching clouds would soon veil the searing afternoon sun, driven inland from the Great Ocean until they condensed against the Maoke Mountains to the South.
Chapter Eighteen
The substance Bobby had given those who were injured in the fight seemed to stop the murderous effects of what Addison had forced upon them. Before long, three more villagers showed up: two women and a man. They had run off in the night when Addison had started killing. The man had white feathers in his hair, and his name was Matiinuo. Samuel said he was the oldest of all of the villagers, something like ten thousand years old. Bobby laughed at this, but then felt embarrassed when he realized Samuel was serious. There were now eleven villagers, possibly all that were left of the tribe. Bobby realized the Lamotelokhai might help with this, so he spoke to it in symbols yet again.
“Do you know if more villagers are alive?”
“Only those near you live.”
“How do you know?”
“No others live.”
“How do you know no others live?”
“I do not know of others alive.”
This might be the best answer he would get. Then Bobby had another idea. “Is Addison alive?”
“Yes.”
Bobby was suddenly alert. He hadn’t known for sure if the stuff he’d created would work, or if it would kill Addison. “Where is Addison?”
“I cannot know where Addison is. I know the distance of Addison.”
“What is the distance of Addison?”
“Distance unit is needed.”
Bobby pressed two fingers onto the Lamotelokhai about a foot apart. “This is a foot.” He had to create a symbol for foot.
The substance answered immediately. “The distance of Addison is 6,404 feet.”
Bobby thought about the answer. Over 6,000 feet—that was more than a mile. Why had Addison gone so far away? “What is the distance of Addison now?”
“The distance of Addison is 6,426 feet.”
He was still moving away from them. Mr. and Mrs. Darnell would want to know this. They were in a nearby hut, resting with Ashley and Carlos. So Bobby left the Lamotelokhai and went to find them.
As Bobby walked, the floor of the hanging tunnel bounced under his feet, making the distance seem longer. He considered the news he carried. It was his fault Addison was gone. Maybe it would have been easier for the Darnells if he had just killed Addison. That might be better than knowing he was wandering around in the jungle with no memory.
In a smaller hut, Ashley, Carlos, and the Darnells sat on the floor picking at a lump of khosül paste. They glanced at him as he entered, but said nothing. Bobby sat down, pulled off a handful of khosül, and squished it between his fingers to make sure there were no beetle heads. Then he told them Addison was alive, but far away, and how he had come to know this.
They sat in silence, eating.
At last Mr. Darnell spoke up. “We’re leaving. Tomorrow.”
Mrs. Darnell nodded. “Tomorrow morning. We’ve decided.”
“What about Addison?” Bobby asked.
Mr. Darnell looked up. “Addison died when the plane crashed. The Lamotelokhai’s medicine couldn’t bring him back. Our responsibility now is to get you three back to your families.”
Bobby frowned. As much as he wanted to go home, he felt like he was just getting started with the Lamotelokhai. “We don’t even know which way to go,” he said.
At that moment Samuel entered the hut. “It is not the direction that is important, so much as the capacity to maintain your bearing,” he said. “And what may prove fatal is your want for food and water.”
Matiinuo followed Samuel in. Samuel sat on the floor, but the Papuan stood back.
“Samuel, please don’t try to stop us,” Mrs. Darnell said. “We don’t belong here.”
Samuel looked at her like he was afraid to say what was on his mind. “As you know, my inclination is to shelter the indigenes from the world, and at the same time shelter the world from the secret that they have guarded for so many ages. But once again I find that I have little influence on their ways of thinking, particularly with Matiinuo here.”
“Meaning what?” Mr. Darnell said.
“My indigene hosts wish for you to go. They believe you have come here with the charge of assuming stewardship of the Lamotelokhai. They have supposed for many years that a man would inevitably come who could speak to the Lamotelokhai. As they put it, this event was to turn their world upside down.” He frowned. “And indeed it has.” Samuel then gestured toward Bobby. “This man they supposed would come is not a man after all, but a boy.”
Bobby spoke up. “We can take the Lamotelokhai with us?”
“They will even assist you on your journey. My journey, as well, I suppose, as I will have no further purpose here.”
Mr. Darnell cleared his throat. “You’ve changed your mind? You were convinced the Lamotelokhai should never be revealed. In fact you had just about convinced me.”
“I still have doubts. But the villagers believe this to be the natural succession of things, and perhaps they are correct. Bobby’s ability with the Lamotelokhai seems to support that. And if they were to prevent your departure, there would someday be others, and others after that. I can only hope that the sensibilities of mankind have progressed such that the Lamotelokhai will be used wisely, and for noble purposes.” Samuel paused. “It is worth noting that the literal meaning of the word Lamotelokhai is, the world will be destroyed.”
Everyone was silent.
“We can’t carry it on foot,” Mr. Darnell said, finally. “If we make it to civilization, we’ll tell others about it. They can send a helicopter.”
Samuel frowned. “A helicopter.”
“It’s a flying machine.”
“That is not satisfactory.” Samuel’s voice was almost angry. “My indigene hosts have lived as savages for thousands of years, and they resist alteration with passion such that you could scarcely imagine. And yet they insist that you remove the one thing that has determined their physiology and habits of culture for many centuries. So I am concerned for the fate of the surviving villagers. Do you truly wish to bring upon them the cruelties of—”
Mr. Darnell held up his hand. “No, I see your point. They deserve to be left alone.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Mrs. Darnell said.
Samuel waved toward Matiinuo. “The villagers and I will help to carry it. We brought it to this place, after all. When I first stumbled upon their village, it was far to the north, near the Sentani seacoast.”
Bobby stared at Matiinuo. The Papuan returned his gaze. His skin was smooth and his clear eyes were like those of a young man. But Bobby thought he saw something more. From deep within the man’s eyes shone the Papuan’s wisdom—the wisdom of ten thousand years. Matiinuo smiled at Bobby. It was sad and tired, but still a smile.
After Samuel and Matiinuo left the hut, the growing darkness seemed to fill the confined space with misery, so Bobby returned to the larger central hut. He stood staring at the Lamotelokhai. He could now talk to it. Better than anyone else, apparently. If they took it home with them, people would take it away. Bobby didn’t want that to happen.
“It’s really ugly, isn’t it?”
Bobby started. He hadn’t seen Ashley come in.
“I mean, if it’s from an advanced alien race, why would they make it look like a big piece of crap?” She spoke without taking her eyes off the Lamotelokhai.
Bobby shrugged. “Maybe their crap doesn’t look like this.” After a few minutes of silence, Bobby said, “I’m sorry about Miranda.”
Ashley looked at the floor. “Miranda was a good person. Better than the rest of us. I wanted to kill Addison.” She looked up at Bobby. “You could have killed him, but you didn’t. Everyone wanted to kill him, even Mr. Darnell. But you didn’t.” Her face was close to his and she eyed him without blinking.
Bobby felt his face flush, so he turned back to the Lamotelokhai. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“I think I was wrong about you, Bobby.”
Bobby said nothing.
“Before, I thought you were just a nerd.”
Bobby s
huffled his feet. “Thanks.”
“But I think maybe you’re something else.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Not really a hero. You don’t look much like a hero.”
“Thanks again.”
She laughed. “How about this, then: When I’m afraid—when I want to be safe—I feel like I should be wherever you are.”
Bobby felt his face flush again. “But I can’t—”
“Let me finish. I don’t think it’s your job to protect us, or anything. But it seems like maybe you’re important in this whole thing.”
Bobby considered this. “I guess so.” He put his hands on the Lamotelokhai. The hut was almost dark, but the symbols were clear. “What do you want me to ask it?”
Ashley put her hands next to his. She stared at the symbols that appeared before her eyes, invisible to Bobby. “I have no idea what all this shit is.”
“It’s Kembalimo. What do you want me to ask it?”
“Ask it if Addison is coming back.”
Bobby shuffled the symbols. “What is the distance of Addison?”
“The distance of Addison is 9,016 feet.”
Bobby turned to her. “He’s still moving away from us. He’s a long ways away.”
“I hope so. Ask if we’re going to die.”
He did. The Lamotelokhai replied that it could not know this, and Bobby told her that.
“Figures,” she said. “Ask if it minds if we take it with us tomorrow.”
Bobby struggled with this one. “We want to take you away from here. Will you help us take you away from here?”
“Yes.”
“I guess it doesn’t mind,” Bobby said.
“Then ask what it will do when we get it home. Is it going to take over the world?”
This was a good question, but Bobby had no idea how to phrase it. “That’s too hard to say.”
“Then ask if there’s an easier way to talk to it.”
Bobby should have thought of that before. He shoved the symbols around. “I want to ask you questions. I cannot ask you some questions. Are there other ways to talk to you?”
Diffusion Box Set Page 23