by Rudy Rucker
“That thing outside the hatch,” goes Scud, weirdly calm. “It’s a Tollah dog. Frikkin Flipsydaisy is going to let him in. And we three are supposed to tie him up. How? I have a plan. I’m going to make your music into threads. Follow my lead and we can do it.” He gives Zoe a know-it-all nerd look.
“Go to hell,” she says, not even pausing to think. “You’re an immature idiot with a brain like a soft-boiled egg.”
There, she’s done it again. But it so annoys Zoe that Scud has the wand that was supposed to be hers. She’s way more sensitive. Scud is, face it, subhuman. And hello? It’s only thanks to Zoe that they made it to mappyworld at all.
Meanwhile Flipsydaisy is busy with the hatch at the top of the stairs. Zoe sets aside her hissy fit. And remembers what’s actually happening. And flies into panic mode. She yells, “Oh god no don’t do it, Flipsydaisy, don’t don’t don’t.”
So of course—clang—Flipsydaisy flings open the hatch. Zoe hears a sound like a tornado, like a cartoon Tasmanian devil, and it’s the Tollah dog coming in. She can see him, he’s an alien wolf bigger than a person, gray with red eyes and mongo claws and teeth. He’s swarming down the stairs—
Scud flicks his baton and, oh yeah, Zoe is very definitely playing guitar if it’s gonna help. She amps from zero to eleven in, like, one nanosecond, and Villy’s with her, in sync, as before, now and forever, amen. Weird as it seems, the music lines are visible, like Scud said they would be—scrawny, colored threads that fade out after a second or two. Thanks to Skzx the wand.
Scud’s got something else going on. The tip of his wand spouts a sheet of gold ectoplasm that forms a dome around the three kids. A living sheet like the smooth water of a waterfall. A magic gold igloo that the frikkin Tollah dog can’t get through.
Across the room, Flipsydaisy does a similar move. She has herself and Pinchley and the yam-shaped Lady Filippa inside a transparent pod of gold, wide in the middle and pointed at both ends, with the two Szep nestled tight against the nasty Lady.
The Tollah flings himself at the Lady Filippa pod with his slavering jaws wide open. As soon as he touches the pod, it goes doink, like an error-sound in a videogame but with a heavy sting attached, and the Tollah yelps like a hyena and runs all around the room breaking things, as if that matters, given what a total shithole the Lady’s lair is.
Scud waves his baton-wand in rapid figure eights—and gestures with his free hand for more volume. Zoe follows his lead. She gets into a riff that circles back on itself, seeming a little higher and louder each time. It’s the old Escher staircase routine, a tower of Babel. Villy adds accents to the riff, like spikes sticking out of the stairs, or like a rain of razorblades. And—here’s the wand coming into full effect—their music forms thicker threads than before. The threads spill from Villy’s Flying Vee guitar like glowing spaghetti. Zoe’s chords grow like festive twine.
At first it seems like the sound-threads might stay trapped inside the gold igloo with them. The spaghetti and the twine are feeling around like worms looking for an exit from the igloo, and they’re not finding a way out.
“Get Lady Filippa to help,” yells Villy over the guitars.
“She won’t,” shouts Scud. “She and Flipsydaisy and Pinchley just want to watch how we do.”
“Like this is a test?” says Zoe.
“Your neglected admission application,” says Villy, weirdly amused. “Time to kick up our game, Z-bomb.”
“Yah mon,” she goes, heartened by his tone. “I’ll bring it.”
Zoe adds funk to her riffs, bending the notes and smearing them like you do with a Delta blues. Villy’s with her again. The spaghetti strands and the twine get that much hairier, and they crawl up the walls of the sheltering igloo and, thank you, they sprout through all over, and the strings of sound are radiating out from the igloo like the spines of a sea urchin, or like glow-lines from a sun.
And this pisses off the Tollah dog, or scares him, and he charges towards them and leaps—like he’s going to pop the igloo and tear the humans to bits. It’s like a scene in a horror movie, with the giant tweaked-out wolf coming at Zoe in slow motion, trailing rabid slobber from his mouth.
Zoe and Villy bear down on their music, stratocast style, Scud sends some extra energy through his wand, and—the strands wrap all around the Tollah dog, layer after layer, tighter and tighter, until he’s lying motionless on the ground, like a fly that a spider has cocooned for a later meal.
Moment of silence. The gold igloo and the yam’s pod fade away, and here’s the seven of them. The captive Tollah. The three humans. The two Szep. Plus Lady Filippa, the Aristo.
Lady F. has about thirty eyes on her body and she’s dragging herself across the filthy floor. No arms or legs, but she’s very dynamic. She gets right up on top of the shrouded Tollah dog, half covering him, and she looks over at Zoe with happy twinkles in her eyes. Pinchley and Flipsydaisy throw their arms across each other’s shoulders, watching the show with big grins. Like they know what’s next.
“Be so good as to sprinkle on the caraway seeds,” says Lady Filippa. Her voice flutes out of the little slit mouth she has at one end. “A nice fresh Tollah is the special food I crave.”
Scud hesitates. “Go on,” says Villy. “This is what we came for, seems like. Give her all your seeds.”
Zoe can tell Scud’s got some reservations about this, and she can intuit why. That Goob-goob god who’s been behind the scenes all along—no doubt Goob-goob is going to be wanting some caraway seeds as well. Playing it cool for once in his life, Scud pours a teaspoon of seeds into his palm, stashes the rest of the jar in his pocket, and makes a big hoo-rah about what he’s actually doling out.
“Here we are!” he goes. “Knock yourself out, Lady F!” He scatters the seeds across the exposed parts of the music-thread-wrapped Tollah. Zoe can hear the pretty colored threads a little bit, humming and reverberating. The caraway seeds stick to the threads like sprinkles on a frosted cake.
And then Lady Filippa digs in. She worms around so her mouth is at one end of the laid-out Tollah. She opens her slit mouth very wide, and Zoe can see a nasty translucent squid beak inside. And then Lady F. is munching on her prey. She starts at the one end of the Tollah and eats him up entirely, working her way to the other end. Kind of like how the hand-Irav did with Yampa, not that Zoe wants to think about that.
When Lady Filippa begins chowing down, the tight-wrapped Tollah is still alive. So there’s anguished muffled dog howls, plus a puddle of sick juice like yellow blood, but Lady F. chokes down the whole entire meal. And then she flops over to one side and lets out this huge fart. Then closes all her eyes and falls asleep.
“Lifestyles of the Szep City Aristos,” goes Villy, and Scud cracks up, with all the crazy tension of the last hour jittering into his shrill laugh.
Zoe laughs a little with the boys, but really she’s too far beyond disgusted to see the humor. Meanwhile Flipsydaisy and Pinchley are gathering any extra caraway seeds that ended up on the floor and eating them as fast as they can.
“How do we get out of here?” Zoe asks Pinchley. “How do we get home?”
“Wal, Villy gave my car to a Harmon,” says Pinchley. “And your car is terminally trashed.” Not that he sounds worried about this. At this moment he’s happy to eat a few caraway seeds, and he’s enjoying Flipsydaisy’s attention.
“You’ll fly back, my dear,” languid Flipsydaisy tells Zoe. “Goob-goob will help you. Take the tunnel to the smokestack and float up. I think you three can levitate?”
“Our saucer pearl got shattered,” says Scud. “Someone shot it with a ray.”
“Never mind,” says Flipsydaisy. “Your wand will help. She’s teeping me that she’s definitely willing to partner with you, all the way back to Van Cott. She likes the cut of your jib, Scud. And I agree. That was a remarkably fine show you three put on for Lady Filippa. She was pleased.”
“Such lovely manners she has,” says Zoe, glancing over at the snoring Aristo. “Su
ch a gracious way of thanking us.”
“Snippy, are you now?” says Flipsydaisy, studying Zoe. “I suppose you’re miffed you didn’t get the wand? I don’t blame you. I hate it when the men grab things that the women are supposed to have.” Flipsydaisy glances at Lady Filippa. “Did I explain that Lady Filippa is a pupa? An alert, active pupa who’s preparing for her next stage. Now that she’s had her special meal, she’s likely to split open, disgorge her adult body, and float away. But not until she wakes.”
“Where are the Aristos from?” asks Villy. “What are they?”
“They’re from the big cloud,” says Flipsydaisy, pointing upwards. “Sky Castle? They have a life-cycle like an insect. The adult Aristos are fabulous glowing zeppelins. Very friendly with Goob-goob. Before the zeppelin stage comes the pupa stage where an Aristo looks like Lady Filippa. And before that comes a larval form. Can you guess what an Aristo larva looks like?” Flipsydaisy stares at Scud and titters.
“No!” yells Scud, thunderstruck. “This wand in my arm—it’s an Aristo larva? Oh no! She’ll eat my flesh and morph into a pupa. Like—Villy will go to wake me up, and the only thing in my bed will be a pointed yam with eyes.”
Flipsydaisy throws back her head with in a delighted cackle. “Quick on the uptake, this boy. Too droll for words. It’s as you say, Scud. Eventually a wand morphs into pupa resembling Lady Filippa. And, yes, the wand draws sustenance from her host. But she won’t consume you entirely. She’ll crawl free as a rather small pupa. Not to worry. As a courtier to the Aristos, I’ve hosted several wands myself. And I’m the better for it.” Losing interest in Scud’s predicament, she turns to Pinchley. “Shall we go to my digs for our chocolate party, dear?”
As for Zoe—now she doesn’t want a wand after all. Truth be told, she feels a little sorry for Scud. But he’s standing tall.
“Alright then,” says Scud. “I can deal. Just so Skzx stays in place long enough for us to get home and stop the saucers. Or stop Groon? I’m still not clear on what we’re supposed to do.”
“You’ll improvise magnificently,” says Flipsydaisy. “Like the wily Odysseus of human myth!” The elegant Szep does her sophisto laugh.
“Oh, shove it,” says Scud. “We need some hard facts. Pinchley? What was that about a tunnel to a smokestack? And how do we get home from Sky Castle?”
“We flew past that old smokestack,” says Pinchley. “You saw it on the way in. It has Szep writing on the side? Says Hail Groon. And like Flipsydaisy says, there’s a tunnel runs from here to the bottom of the smokestack.” Pinchley gestures to a low arch on the other side of the cluttered cellar, which is fitfully lit by the fungus and by the gleam of Scud’s and Flipsydaisy’s wands. “Right through there. Ain’t far. Then you float up the stack. And once you make it to that big cloud, you find Goob-goob. And she’ll hook you into the jet stream. And you ride the jet stream home. It’s that same one that Groon runs. Plenty fast.”
“What about us being mixed in with all those saucers in the jet stream?” asks Zoe.
“O ye cosmic heroes of little faith!” intones Flipsydaisy, treating her worries as a joke. “The mighty Goob-goob shall provide.”
None of this is at all like what Zoe expected. Lady Filippa was supposed to be a fancy noble, not a creepy yam. The wand was supposed to be elegant, like in a fairy tale—and it’s a sly parasitic larva. At least Villy is still like Villy. Zoe leans against him.
“Now I’ve got a boyfriend too,” says Flipsydaisy, crinkling her eyes and twining both her arms around Pinchley’s waist. “I’ve wanted this Truban for years. He’s moving in with me. Or else!”
Pinchley looks both pleased and abashed. “I’ll stay with you for a while, Flipsydaisy. But you have to throw a memorial bash for Yampa.”
“Mais oui,” says Flipsydaisy. “I love parties. We’ll serve turg, and flub, and burt, and gub.”
“Szep foods,” says Pinchley, glancing over Zoe. “I’m gonna say yes to Flipsydaisy. Gonna send you three off on your own.” Saying this, he looks a little lost.
“Can’t you come as far as the smokestack?” Zoe pleads. “How do we know it’s safe?”
“It’s been unused for years,” says Flipsydaisy. “Ever since we switched to dark energy. You don’t need more help.” Flipsydaisy plants a proprietary kiss on Pinchley’s cheek. “Let’s be on our way, weary wanderer mine. By now the fracas in the central square is done.”
Pinchley pauses for a time, looking at Zoe, Villy, and Scud. He seems misty and woebegone. “Hard to say this particular goodbye,” he finally gets out. “Losing Yampa has me wobbly on my pins. We had a good run, didn’t we, gang? Now go and save the frikkin world.” He lays his hand on each of them, one at a time. Zoe shivers to feel the Szep’s rangy, outsider vibes. It may well be the last time she sees him.
“Can I have your tool belt?” Villy asks Pinchley.
“Not hardly,” says the skinny Szep. “You twisty enough on your own, Vill. You’ll do fine.”
“And what about the saucers patrolling Szep City?” worries Scud. “They’ll nab us when we come out of the stack.”
“It’ll work out,” says Pinchley. “Like we been sayin’—you’re natural-born heroes. Boogie on.”
And then Pinchley and Flipsydaisy are up the spiral stairs and out the hatch, leaving Zoe, Villy, and Scud alone with the sleeping Lady Filippa.
25: Zeppelin
VILLY
So here’s the three kids in the Lady’s cellar. Villy feels jangled and afraid, though he doesn’t like to admit it. He embraces Zoe for comfort. Meanwhile Scud’s poking around, hoping to find something valuable in the junk, using his wand’s crystal like a flashlight, augmenting the walls’ patchy glow.
Villy likes having Zoe in his arms, even down here, even a million miles from home. His ragged breathing slows and falls into its familiar rhythm. Thanks to their guitars, they’ve still got a certain amount of teep. But talking matters.
“You okay?” Zoe murmurs.
“I feel like it’s too much,” says Villy. “And we can’t do it.”
“We have to,” says Zoe. “But right now, yeah, I miss Mom and my safe room at home.”
“And if we ever get back to Los Perros, we’ll be sick of it right away,” says Villy.
“I know,” says Zoe, with the hint of a smile in her voice. “We’re terrible.”
“Our big adventure,” says Villy, his spirits slowly rising. “It’s not over yet. And right now, I’d like to find some real food. And a safe place to sleep. So tired.”
“Me too,” says Zoe. “We haven’t stopped since the stratocast. But I’m never eating again, not after Lady Filippa’s canapes. Why did she and Flipsydaisy mess with us like that?”
“For laughs?” says Villy. “We could get even. We could, like, pop Lady Filippa. While she’s asleep. Jump up and down on her.”
“Don’t even,” says Zoe. “So awful.” She straightens up, does a theatrical groan, and raises a loosely clenched fist. “Onward.”
“Yes,” says Villy.
“The mission,” says Zoe, still trying to crank herself up. “The quest.” She plays a tiny deedle-deedle on her guitar.
“Look what I found,” says Scud, walking over. He shines the tip of his wand on something like a dark walnut shell. The shell has a membranous hinge on one side, and when Scud opens it, the light reveals a half-teaspoon of minute, glittering polyhedra within, no two of them the same color.
“Like teensy gems,” exclaims Zoe. “The nutshell is a treasure chest. I’d love to make those little things into jewelry.”
“I’m keeping the nutshell,” says Scud. “I’m bringing it home.”
“How did you find it?” asks Villy. “On your own?”
“Sure, on my own,” says Scud. “Nobody else is here. What do you mean?”
“Maybe Skzx the wand guided you to the shell,” says Villy. “Skzx is an intelligent Aristo larva who lives inside you. And all the time she’s teeping to you, even when you don’t n
otice. Maybe there’s some kinky Aristo motive for wanting you to bring that nutshell back to Earth.”
“How about it, Skzx?” goes Scud, listening into himself. His eyes go blank and his lips twitch. And then he’s back. He sighs. “You’re right, Villy. Skzx didn’t want to tell me, but she did in fact steer me towards the walnut. Seems the little gems are Aristo eggs. She wanted them to be a surprise, later on in Los Perros.”
“Some surprise,” says Villy. “Hundreds of aliens hatching in our hometown.”
Zoe leans over, stares directly into Scud’s eyes and speaks very slowly. “Don’t. Bring. Them. Home.”
Scud sighs and sets the nutshell on the floor. His wand throws an angry wriggle into Scud’s arm, but the nutshell stays on the ground.
“While we’re at it,” continues Zoe, “What’s going to happen to your friendly Aristo larva wand after the cosmic beatdown?”
Again, Scud looks into himself. “Skzx says she’ll emerge—either as a larva or maybe as a pupa, depending how far along she is—and then she’ll tunnel from Earth to Van Cott and then fly a million miles back to Szep City. She wants to reach adulthood here. Like her dad and mom.”
“Hold on,” says Villy. “Assuming Skzx is so eager to help us, why didn’t she just fly to us in the first place? Then we wouldn’t have had to drive a million miles.”
“I already thought of that of that myself,” says Scud, an odd expression on his face. A mixture of pride and shyness. “But I wasn’t going to say anything. Too much like bragging. Thing is, Skzx didn’t want to work with just anyone. She wanted to partner with someone special. Someone who could handle a million mile road trip. Someone like me.”
“Good for you,” Villy tells his kid brother, refraining from taking any credit for himself. “And I mean that, Scud. You’ve been outstanding. It’s very cool if Skzx flies home when she’s done. We’re good to go.” Villy pauses. “Um—where was it that Flipsydaisy told us to go next?”