Tiger Takes the Big Apple

by David P. Reiter

  ‘No spa parties after nine p.m.,’ Wanda insisted. ‘I need my scale beauty sleep!’

  Tiger smiled. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, Alexander isn’t exactly a party animal.’

  ‘I’m thinking of Myrtle,’ said Wanda. ‘Ever since she put Bradley in his place, she’s been pretty wild! I can hear her rapping even underground!’

  ‘That’s all well and good for Wanda and you,’ sniffed Number 12, ‘and even Syd. But what about me? That greenhouse is too cramped for a camel.’

  ‘You’d want to live in Canberra?’ said Tark.

  Number 12 snorted. ‘The Outback! Been there, done that!’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ smiled Tark. ‘But first things first. If we don’t defeat Mick and his starships this time there won’t be a Canberra to go back to!’

  They couldn’t disagree with that.

  in which raccoons give them

  the key to the city – for a price

  Tark, who of course had never been to New York City, and had only seen it from Deep Space as little globs of lights on a patchwork of nighttime Earth, decided that they should have an aerial view of it before landing. So, on their final approach, he told Tiger to set the Teleportation Module’s speed to Browse and Sense, which gave them a view kind of like Google Maps but more lifelike, which was not surprising since it was live action.

  ‘What’s the Sense part of it?’ asked Tiger, doing exactly as he was told.

  Tark smiled. ‘The Module automatically triangulates with any physical objects ahead,’ he said, ‘ensuring we keep a safe distance away.’

  ‘Hey, neat-o!’ said Tiger. ‘But if the Module can sense coming objects automatically, why am I steering?’

  If a frog – even a fake one – could blush, Tark would have right then. ‘Well, the Module can be semi-automatic, sometimes,’ he said. ‘Just applying a... slight correction to your navigation as necessary.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Tiger, a bit disappointed that he wasn’t as much in control as he’d thought. ‘And how often would it have vetoed my instructions?’

  ‘Not often,’ Tark said quickly. ‘If at all.’

  They were cruising so low above the city now that all they could see to the horizon were streetlights – millions of them. There were countless skyscrapers, towers of light, with knobs of red warning lights at their peaks. Tiger had never seen anything like this. Australian cities were such faint blips compared to The Big Apple.

  As he lifted his paws off the controls, Tiger was impressed at how the Module would slow, hover, and then ease around each skyscraper they approached. Just as well, he thought to himself, I wouldn’t want us denting any of them!

  ‘They’re so tall!’ said Wanda. ‘I’ll bet the people who live there have a view to die for.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ said Tark. ‘The dying part, that is.’

  ‘Can your starships steer by Browse and Sense, too?’ asked Number 12, pointing to the touch points on the control panel.

  ‘Of course,’ said Tark. ‘They can be set to Sense at full speed, too. It’s quite important when you’re traveling through unfamiliar asteroid fields at the speed of light.’

  ‘What about Mick’s mob?’ asked Syd. ‘Can his ships do that, too?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Tark.

  ‘But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?’ said Tiger, not sure about that almost as soon as he said it. ‘Without a Sense mode, they won’t be able to chase us between buildings!’

  Tark shook his head. ‘We’re talking about robots, remember? They go from Point A to Point B by the most direct route possible, and Abell 2218 starships are built strong enough to punch through most things.’ He pointed down below. ‘That skyscraper there would be no more than a matchstick to them.’

  Off to the right was an expanse, dark except for the occasional light attached to shadowy ships.

  ‘Must be the Atlantic Ocean,’ said Wanda. ‘And look over there. I’ll bet that is the Statue of Liberty!’

  The name rang a bell for Tiger, from some evening of dozing on and off in front of the Discovery Channel after Alexander shared some leftovers with him.

  ‘What’s a statue doing in the middle of the ocean?’ asked Number 12, putting into words what Tiger was wondering but too embarrassed to ask.

  ‘It’s in the harbor, silly,’ said Wanda. ‘On a little island, to greet visitors.’ She got up on her hind legs to recite it: ‘Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free...’

  They were hovering over it now, and Tiger could see that it was a very tall statue of a woman in flowing robes, with a strange pointy cap. She was holding a torch in one hand.

  ‘The French gave it to the Americans after the Revolution,’ explained Wanda.

  ‘Was it polluted in France back then, too?’ asked Tiger. ‘I mean the bit about yearning to breathe free?’

  ‘No,’ said Wanda. ‘It’s another symbol. Like Baldy the eagle.’

  As they glided slowly past the statue’s face, Tiger could have sworn she winked at him.

  Back over land, they found a particularly dense area of darkness.

  ‘This’ll do,’ Tark said. ‘Let’s take her down!’

  Tiger was happy enough to go back to the controls and to ease the Module down gently between a row of trees. As it happened, they landed next to a body of water, but not a very large one – a pond-like body, which turned out to be a pond indeed, complete with a flock of swans. They paddled to shore to check out the Module in a half-circle of soft quacks.

  One instant the Crew were invisible to the swans, but the next instant there they were.

  ‘Muggers!’ shouted the biggest swan, with a New York drawl. ‘Head for the reeds!’

  With a flurry of feathers, they dove for the water.

  ‘Wait,’ called Tiger. ‘I’m from Canberra. There aren’t any muggers there!’

  ‘Really?’ said Wanda under her breath. ‘Which universe are you from?’

  ‘Graffiti scumbags, then,’ shouted another of the swans. ‘Remember what happened last New Year’s Eve?’

  ‘You got sprayed?’ said Number 12, who had a talent for guessing obvious things.

  The swans turned back to the shore but still kept a respectful distance.

  ‘Defiled!’ honked one of them. ‘They splattered us with pink paint. If I’d wanted to be a flamingo I would have been born one!’

  ‘I got sprayed once,’ Number 12 droned on. ‘Outside a stable on a moonless night. Some drunk mistook me for a billboard.’

  No one seemed to be listening.

  ‘Who would have done such a thing?’ said Judge Wanda to the swans. ‘And why weren’t they prosecuted?’

  ‘Justice is for the rich,’ said another of the swans. ‘Or birds in a diamond-studded cage. We can’t even afford legal aid!’

  ‘What’s this... graffiti stuff?’ asked Tark.

  ‘Have you been asleep for a hundred years, froggie?’ said the biggest swan. ‘Or maybe you’re from another planet?’

  The swans smacked each other’s wings with laughter. Tiger supposed it was their version of High-Fiving.

  ‘Another galaxy, actually,’ said Tark. ‘Now, if you’ll kindly explain—’

  ‘They’ve come back!’ squawked one of the swans. ‘Look behind you!’

  Sure enough, a gang of young men was approaching. Some wore scarves over their heads, big studs in their ears and sneakers that glowed in the moonlight. Some had tattoos on their arms. All of them waved around big cans of spray paint.

  ‘Hot dog!’ the leader cried. ‘Them swans have come back. Let’s paint ’em again!’

  Not realizing that the Teleportation Module was between him and the shore, he ran smack into it, crumpling into a heap.

  ‘Hey, man,’ said the gang member just behind him. ‘You need to watch where you is going!’

  ‘There’s something there,’ whined the first. ‘It decked me, man!’

  He reached out
and carefully felt the invisible wall of the Module. ‘Look, man, here, feel it for yourself!’

  The second man put out his hand and felt it, too. ‘Hey, cool,’ he said, waving the others to come over. ‘Check this out!’

  They circled around the Module, poking at it excitedly.

  ‘What is it?’ one of them said.

  ‘I don’t know, man,’ said the first, glancing around into the darkness. ‘Maybe there’s a crew filming an episode of Dr Who or something.’

  ‘In the middle of the night?’ said another. ‘Don’t be stupid, man!’

  They still hadn’t noticed the Crew by then.

  ‘Hey,’ said the first. ‘Let’s spray it. Maybe then we can see what it is.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said a few more. ‘Let’s paint it, paint it, PAINT IT!’

  They’d raised their cans and were about to spray, when a beam from Tark’s toe froze their arms.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,’ said Tark.

  ‘I... can’t move!’ cried one of the graffiti men.

  ‘Me neither,’ cried another.

  ‘I want my mommy,’ cried yet another.

  ‘Get real!’ cried several of them at once.

  It could have been a joke, but Tiger thought he meant it.

  In another instant, Tark was standing between them and the Module.

  ‘I’ll thank you to back off,’ he said, pushing each of the gang backwards in turn with a threatening blue beam from his toe.

  ‘Special effects!’ said one of the gang. ‘Cool, man. How’d you do that?’

  ‘It’s easy, when you know how,’ Tark replied.

  ‘What is that... thing I bumped into?’ said the first.

  ‘Our Teleportation Module,’ said Tiger, arms folded in front of him as he joined Tark.

  ‘And it doesn’t like getting spray painted,’ said Judge Wanda. ‘Especially by hoods like you!’

  Their arms still frozen, but the rest of their bodies very much alive, the second graffiti man turned to the first. ‘Hey, man, I told you we’ve been sniffing too much of those paint fumes. I just heard a frog and a cat speak!’

  ‘Not to mention a Blue-tongue Lizard!’ Judge Wanda said.

  ‘Not to mention an extinguished camel!’ said Number 12, nosing a pathway between the men then nudging them apart with his hips.

  ‘I think you mean a distinguished camel,’ Tiger said.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Number 12. ‘If a cat understood me, then this lot should have, too.’

  ‘I’ve never seen a camel in real life,’ said one of the youths, mouth wide open. ‘Not since Lawrence of Arabia.’

  ‘Funny name for a camel,’ said Syd.

  ‘It was a movie,’ said Number 12.

  ‘I knew that,’ said Syd. ‘Just making sure that you did!’

  ‘That does it,’ said the second man. ‘I’ve got my gene pool to think of. No more spray painting for me!’

  ‘What about the rest of you?’ said Judge Wanda. ‘Do you promise to behave yourselves and go back to your watercolors and finger paints?’

  A few of them nodded grudgingly.

  With a gesture of his toe, Tark unfroze all of them.

  ‘Had my fingers crossed!’ said the first man, lifting his can and spraying straight at where he thought the Module was.

  Almost as quickly as the paint left the can, it ricocheted off the Module and landed full blast on the sprayer’s face, knocking him to the ground and leaving him gasping for air.

  ‘Naughty, naughty,’ said Tark. ‘Our Teleportation Module prefers to remain invisible to lower life forms. Any foreign substances are therefore repelled back at twice the speed to source. In this case, you.’

  ‘I didn’t mean no harm,’ said the man, grabbing handfuls of grass and trying to wipe the paint off. ‘I was just trying to make it stand out a bit, so I could... admire it!’

  ‘As you tried to make these swans look... pretty?’ said Judge Wanda, pointing at the swans, who were still floating just off shore.

  ‘Oh, them,’ said another man. ‘White is boring. We wanted to brighten them up a bit, that’s all.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said another man. ‘Like Andy Warhol said, I love to paint boring things.’

  ‘Who’s Andy Warhol?’ the Crew said at once.

  ‘Gee,’ said the very painted man. ‘You really are from another galaxy. Welcome to the Big Apple!’

  It was then that Tiger noticed the eyes, tiny beady ones, in the trees.

  ‘Look,’ he said, pointing. ‘Someone – or something – is watching us!’

  There was a pair, and then four, then several more.

  ‘Oh, that,’ said one of the men. ‘Just raccoons. They’re curious, that’s all.’

  ‘Or maybe they’re wanting some free art lessons!’ chuckled another of the men.

  ‘Just raccoons?’ said one of the animals, working his way down the truck. ‘Just raccoons?’

  ‘They think they’re pretty smart,’ said the painted man. ‘Worse than rats, if you ask me!’

  ‘I didn’t know they could talk, though,’ said another man. ‘Unless they’re from Outer Space, too!’

  Other raccoons were working their way down from the trees now. Tiger admired the black masks on their faces.

  ‘Outer space?’ said the lead raccoon. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. We’re no more from Outer Space than these characters are!’

  Tiger took a deep breath. Tark wouldn’t take this lack of respect lying down.

  ‘A camel, lizard, frog, and a cat?’ said another raccoon, joining the first. ‘Give me a break. My guess is that they broke out of some circus in New Jersey, and have a few tricks up their sleeves.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said the first. ‘Let’s see. We have Puss in Boots, the Froggie Prince, Aladdin the camel. Don’t know where the funny looking lizard fits in, though.’

  Wanda stepped forward. ‘It’s Wanda,’ she said. ‘Judge Wanda to you!’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said a third raccoon. ‘The Law’s got the drop on us. Please don’t lock us up again... Judge Wanda. Oh, please!’

  ‘Actually,’ said Tark, ‘I’m the only one from Outer Space, as you call it. As if everything that isn’t ON your modest planet must be OUT There!’

  ‘Ooh,’ said the first raccoon. ‘Think we touched a sore spot there.’ He walked up to Tark and circled him, giving him the once over. ‘Must admit that you don’t look like any frog I’ve ever seen. Never seen toes that long – or fat – on a proper frog.’

  ‘There’s only one toe you need concern yourself with,’ said Tark, taking aim at him.

  Before he knew what was happening, the raccoon was not only airborne but upside down at eye level with Tark.

  ‘Not bad,’ said the upside down raccoon. ‘But they do that sort of... trick in the circus. Don’t they?’

  ‘With invisible wires, maybe,’ said Tiger, gloating just a bit, then passing a paw over and under the raccoon. ‘None here!’

  The men gave Tark a round of applause, to which Tark gave a slight bow and an even slighter smile.

  ‘I can assure you this is all pure scientific technique,’ said Tark. ‘No magic whatsoever!’

  With that he pointed his toe at each raccoon in turn, raising them up in the air and turning them on their backs to float like little masked islands in the night air. The men’s eyes bugged out in admiration.

  ‘You’ve made your point,’ said the first raccoon to be floated. ‘Now please put me down. I get motion sickness when I can’t sink my claws into something firm like a branch, or a loaf of stale bread.’

  Tark obliged, but Number 12 was less inclined to be charitable.

  ‘They look like crooks,’ he grumbled. ‘Shall I give them each a good after-burn to send them packing, Tark?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Syd. ‘Do it!’

  With a sweep of his toe, Tark produced a holograph that looked to Tiger as detailed as a page out of Alexander’s dictionary. ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Raccoons are a Category A Earth-f
orm,’ he said. ‘Must not exterminate, unless provoked.’

  The raccoons bowed as one, closing their eyes while touching their noses to the ground.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Tark. ‘Much better!’

  ‘What, may I ask,’ asked one of the raccoons, ‘is a Category A Earth-form? Does that make us special?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Tark. ‘All Earth-forms are special, but some are more special than others. Which means we are to study them, and to seek alliances wherever possible, for the greater good.’

  ‘I don’t know about that greater good business,’ said the first raccoon. ‘We raccoons like living at the edge of what humans think is right and proper, and maybe even a bit beyond. It’s a lot more fun that way!’

  Tiger thought about it. There were no raccoons in Australia, but he liked their raccoon style. It was a creed a cat might sign up for and live by. In fact, the basic raccoon shape and size had a lot in common with your average cat. Both liked the nightlife and walking on the wild side. The only difference seemed to be that cats were happy to accept life with a human or humans, while raccoons seemed to do very well, thank you, in spite of humans.

  ‘I can dig that,’ said the painted man, taking the words right out of Tiger’s mouth. ‘We like living on the edge, too, don’t we, Marvin?’

  Ah, thought Tiger, so even humans like this have a name. But Marvin? I wouldn’t put that name on a dog!

  ‘True enough, bro,’ said Marvin, stepping forward and nearly putting his arm around the painted man – until he seemed to remember the paint. ‘Speaking of which, shouldn’t we be making tracks?’

  ‘Yeah, man,’ said the painted man. ‘Places to go, walls to immortalize.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Wanda. ‘How can you immortalize something that’s never been alive?’

  ‘You’re having me on,’ said Marvin, seeming truly amazed. He held up his can to the heavens. ‘This is my brush. And that... is my canvas!’ He let out a few short bursts of paint as if he intended to spray the stars. ‘Before graffiti, walls just were. We make a message out of them. And that message gives them a heartbeat.’

  ‘Too deep for me,’ snorted Number 12, bending his leg as if to take aim at Marvin. ‘I can paint a wall, too, but that just marks my territory.’