NetherWorld

by Daniel Quiles Pagan

  Recovering from the initial scare, Nick composed himself, rubbed off any residual lime slime and addressed the petulant amphibian.

  “Well you don’t have to be a jerk about it. You nearly scared me to death. What or who are you?” he asked the toad.

  “I believe I have been stating my name with sufficient clarity. If you only had the mental capacity to understand the rudiments of language, you would know that! My name is ReadMe! ReadMe! Got it!”

  “Oh. That’s what you were sayin’. Sounded more like Rimi to me.”

  “My diction is not the problem biped. The problem is your puny intellect.”

  “Whatever. Rimi, ReadMe. Does it really matter?”

  “Does it matter? Does it matter? What’s your name?”

  “Nick.”

  “How would you like it if I called you Stick, Bick or Click? Ha! Thought not.”

  “Whatever toad! ReadMe or Rimi, whatever, I’ll be moving on.” Nick began to trudge away through the murky liquid.

  “Wait. Wait. I have been sent here to send you a most important message.”

  Nick stopped and turned towards the rude toad. “Ok. What is it?”

  “You could ask a little nicer. After all, it is a most important message.” He announced.

  “ReadMe? What are you? What is the message? And where the heck am I?”

  “I am one of the most esteemed citizens of this world. I deliver the messages between various parties. If you do not check your attitude biped Nick, I will not reveal the message. Where you are, is in my presence, so be impressed,” said ReadMe holding himself in a most regal posture for a frog.

  “So you’re an errand boy, eh. All you do is relay messages for others. You have a mighty big ego for someone with a crappy job,” argued Nick.

  “Really. Messages are some of the most valued items in this world. And I carry them. That makes me very valuable.”

  “Whatever. It’s the people sending the messages that are important. You are just a means to an end.”

  “Oh, but you are wrong my mental midget. The source of the message is of no consequence. The key is the message. And I alone hold that commodity.”

  “Whatever dude. I am not here to debate ya. Just tell me what the message is.”

  “Apologize for your disrespectful attitude and I will relay your message.”

  “Fine! Sorry!”

  “Disingenuous. Say it like you mean it, or you will most likely rot in this forest. You need my message biped Nick.”

  Nick seriously considered letting the testy toad shove off without sharing whatever message he was tasked to convey. Since information, any information, would be helpful, he ultimately relented.

  “Fine. I’m sorry ReadMe. I didn’t mean any disrespect. Now what’s the message?”

  “Not the most sincere apology, but an improvement nonetheless,” relented ReadMe. “The message says follow the green stream to the great Walled City. I will meet you there.”

  “Who sent it?”

  “The person signified by ‘I’. That is all I am required to transmit.”

  “So you know who sent the message?”

  “That is correct.”

  “But you won’t or can’t tell me.”

  “You are catching on biped Nick.”

  “Uhhhh,” sighed Nick, “Which way to this Walled City?”

  “Did you not listen to my message,” grumped the frustrated toad. “Follow the green stream out of the forest and head for the big Wall. It is a fairly straightforward message, easily understood by anyone with a modicum of intelligence. Apparently, you are more challenged than I first thought. The stream is over there,” ReadMe pointed to it with his long skinny sandpaper tongue which shot out from his bulbous lips, “follow that way out of the forest. Walk to the great walled city. Do I need to draw you a map?”

  “No. I got it alright!” What an annoying creature, thought Nick.

  “Good. Because I am not inclined to help you any further. Now if you do not mind, I have far more interesting people to see and far more important places to be. I would wish you luck if I cared, but I do not. Goodbye biped Nick.” ReadMe then hopped into the lime stream and swam away, all the while mumbling and complaining about all the idiots around here.

  ****

  Once the toad was out of site, Nick heard tiny little voices rising from the swampy green muck. They were not quite loud enough to discern; more like whispers from close by. At the same time, Nick felt something crawling up his legs. A fly-like insect buzzed about his head as well.

  Trying to swat the bug away, he slapped empty air in vain. They voices grew just a bit louder. He could just about make out what they were saying.

  “Slither. Slither. Slither,” said one of the crawly creepy things slithering up his leg. Each time it moved, he announced it with the word slither.

  “Bite. Bite. Bite,” sang the other crawling bug. Each time it said the word Bite, a jolt of pain shot down Nick’s left leg. He tried to brush off these bugs to stop the biting and the slithering. They were tricky little things dodging his hands with ease.

  “Sting. Sting. Sting,” said the flying insect as it landed on Nick. Each time it said the word sting, he felt burning pain on the back of his neck.

  Between the slithering, biting and stinging; Nick flailed helplessly in an attempt to free himself of the trio. They continued to dodge his hands and sound off with more slithers, bites and stings.

  “Slither?” said Bite.

  “Yes Bite,” he replied after siphoning some blood through his suctions. Slither had a mouth that locked onto skin and pulled blood to the surface.

  “His blood. It tastes different.”

  “Yes Bite, most different. He must be from the Outer ROM. Strange creatures, those Rommers.”

  “Yes. Yes. The Outer ROM. That’s it. What do you think Sting?” asked Bite.

  “I likes it Bite. Very salty Rommer. Very salty,” replied Sting between stingings.

  “Arhh! Get away! Jeesh!” said Nick; flailing with sufficient violence to knock himself down into the slimy stream. Even bathing in the viscous green goo did not deter the verbal and physical attack. At this point, Nick fell into a complete panic and dashed wildly through the trees. All the while the bugs persisted with the attack.

  Heading towards the edge of the forest, Nick crashed into a plump tree tumor and fell to the ground with a flopping plop of displaced jaba. Dark tumor tea dripped on his forehead and Slither, Sting and Bite persisted with the verbal and physical attack.

  “Ugh! Disgusting,” said Nick as he wipe the dark sap from his face.

  As he righted himself, Nick heard a shuffling from behind. Turning around, he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a round green globe gliding through the trees. On his left another green globe dashed by him. Soon a gang of these spheres gathered round him. The strange spherical creatures appeared to be spinning in haphazard rotations. Some wobbled, others spun north to south. Still other globes rotated counter clockwise. This was opposite to the clockwise rotation of healthy Silicates. He was surrounded by the Tainted Ones.

  “Nasty Taints. Away we go,” said the crawly buggers sliding back down his legs. They appeared terrified of the Tainted Ones.

  “Terrible tasting Taints. Poison they are. Time to fly,” said the formerly stinging insect; darting away from the group of globes.

  “Whew!” said a relieved Nick; rubbing his welts. Whatever these big green globes were, they sure terrified the bugs, thought Nick. He wasn’t certain that he was any better off with the globes, considering how fast the bugs departed.

  The Tainted Ones were deep green globes with orange tubes sprouting from their north poles. Their tubes, orange pulsing cobras, waved on windless air. As they spoke the cobras moved in hypnotic undulations.

  Tainted Ones spun without regard to social protocols restricting this motion to Servers and other Elite Silicates. They were an anathema to NetherWorld, so following rules was not really a concern. If fact, Tain
ted Ones never used their plunger legs. In one of their wanton rituals, all new Tainted have their plunger legs removed to celebrate the freedom of spinning.

  “Identify yoozzelf creecha,” demanded Jak, the most stable looking globe of the bunch. His voice sounded like a person who inhaled far too much helium.

  “What tis it?” asked another in the same high pitched sound.

  “It’s an ugly tingy. Not global.”

  “Bad it be. Berry bad,” agreed another of the Tainted.

  “No globe. No good.” agreed a smaller globe in the same squirrelly voice of his brethren.

  He was still quite erratic in rotation. They were levitated by the spinning motion of their south polar region. The rest of their globe remained still. They each had long rectangular visors perched just above the equator. These were used for vision. A small orifice below the equator served as the mouth.

  “Excuse me! How about identifying yourself?” responded Nick, still perplexed by this strange new world.

  “We Tainted Ones. I Jak. Yooz da prisner. Our prisner. How come no tubies? No tubies, no good. Who you be, ugly tingy? Talky o’ die. Yooz chooz.” The Tainted Ones were suffering from some of the most serious diseases borne of the viruses poisoning the jaba streams. Their ability to think and speak was greatly affected. This often resulted in repetition and unorthodox speech patterns.

  “I am a Karbon. Where is this place?”

  “Karbon? What a Karbon?” asked Jak, the apparent leader of the small group of global thugs?

  “Can we eat Karbon?” asked another of the Tainted.

  “I bet we can. Sure. Sure. Why not eat it?”

  “Yes. Yes. He might tasty good. His bloods. Let’s tasty his bloods,” said Jak, his tubes squirreling around while he spoke.

  “We pully him apart. Grabby da limb. Grabby da limb,” ordered Jak.

  They formed a circle around Nick. He had no chance to escape. He was at their mercy, which appeared to be in short supply. Their inflamed tubes snaked towards Nick. Faster and faster, they spun in their haphazard manner.

  The globes closed in on him. Each time one their pulsing tubes wiggled near him, the strong smell of road kill wafted in its wake. Not just your everyday road kill. This was the foul odor of baked entrails splayed out on blacktop on a hot humid day. He had no escape from the odious assault. As they closed, they chanted some crazed vespers.

  “Submit to Ether

  Tasty our taint

  Drinky da data

  Tasty our taint

  Greeny you get

  Tasty our taint”

  Nowhere to run, Nick looked around for any escape from the crazed, and apparently bloodthirsty balloons. The green globes chanted louder and faster. They reached a feverish pitch while their snaking orange tubes reached out to Nick. Inches away, they slithered around his neck, caressing him.

  “What are you? Can’t you just let me go?” he asked trying to remove the strangling tubes. Sticky snot like tendrils narrowed as he pulled them from his neck. As soon as he pulled on tube, another slid in its place. Each Tainted one had at least eight tubes. At least forty orange cobras competed for real estate under Nick’s head. Still searching around, he saw no way past the tainted circle.

  All the globes spoke in unison, “We Tainted. You da doomed. You da doomed fo sure. Yes, Karbon must die. Karbon filthy tingy. Tasty our taint,” said Jak.

  “Look guys, or whatever you are. I am not sure what is going on here. Can’t you just let me go? I got nothin’ against you. Really! So, just back away. Please!” pleaded Nick.

  The Tainted were unmoved by his request. They pressed on. Closer. Closer. Their tubes were now fully wrapped around his head and neck, choking him. All he could muster was a gargle of desperation. Things began spinning for Nick. He could barely stand. He wobbled in synch with the unsteady globes.

  One the tubes latched onto his head. What felt like a tepid wet tongue, wiggled into his ear. It swirled and whirled, a sticky appendage slithering in and around his lobe. The same thing began in his other ear. This auditory invasion made him wretch. Bile, once resting in his belly, shot up into his mouth, blanketing his tongue with bitter vomit taste.

  As the circle of globes strangled Nick, the entire forest shook with a violent series of tremors. This quake sent Nick back into the frothy lime stream. A few of the more entangled Tainted Ones joined him in the muck. Most of the spinning Tainted Ones were unaffected from the shaking forest floor.

  After a few scary ticks, the movement ceased. Nick’s slip dislodged him from the grip of the Tainted Ones. He slid under the orbit of the nasty globes. Nick realizing his opportunity to flee, trudged along the bottom of the stream, following the current.

  “Karbon escaping. Catch Karbon before he gone. We get you. We find you,” shouted Jak.

  “Yes. Yes. Catch da Karbon. Filthy ting he is!” echoed another diseased globe.

  The Tainted Ones turned to chase him when shadows on the forest floor swirled up from the swamp bottom. The flat black shapes morphed into a large amebic cloud. The blob-like shadow drifted above him and hovered. The Globes backed away.

  “Murks! Murks!” screamed one of the infected Taints.

  “Murks eat Tainted. Tainted hatey Murks,” shouted another Tainted in that high pitched helium voice.

  “Spin! Spin away! Away from hatey Murks!” ordered Jak.

  Their orange tubes stood straight up and shivered. Whatever, the Murks were, they terrified the Tainted Ones. They spun away and sped back, in their own wobbly way, into the darker sections of the forest. Their oranges tresses trailed, bouncing in the humid air. The hovering dark amoeba pursued the green globes. Seconds later the dark mist grew into a massive black blanket. The blanket trapped the globes and sealed them off from everything. Horrific sounds like nails on a chalkboard screeched throughout the forest.

  Once the sounds subsided, the mist spiraled down to the forest floor, retaking the flat black form that patrolled the forest floor. Nothing remained of the Tainted Ones. They were gone. Evaporated. Not even a single drop of gooey tube snot was left. Looking around, he decided to leave the forest before more nasty creatures found him.

  “That was too close a call me. I need to get out of this freaky forest,” Nick said to himself. A few ticks later, a new insect army began another vigorous assault on his body.

  Pulling his gelled feet from their spot, he marched towards the edge. Each step was an effort, like trudging through eight inches of olive oil. All the while he continued to swat the pesky bugs busy stinging his now bite riddled body. His footprints remained long after his feet departed. Slowly, gelled jaba collapsed into his footfalls. A clumpy slow slurp sounded each collapse. Nick grew weary before long, had place to rest given the buggy cloud that followed him.

  A few ticks later, the forest shook and shimmied to and fro once again. Nick did his best to maintain his balance as the ground beneath him growled and grumbled. The Silver Forest sat atop an active subsuction zone. Just beyond the forest was a band of ether mist at the foot of a massive mountain range. Craggy escarpments carved a menacing shadow overlooking the low lying fog.

  According to the legend, a massive ocean of jaba was on the other side of the mountain range. Scattered throughout the jaba sea, were barely explored islands. Any Byte who ventured beyond the band of Ether never returned. Most fell prey to the Tainted Ones who lurked in the Ether. The few who scaled the pale jagged peaks journeyed to these outer islands in search of answers.

  Land masses in the outer ROM were created by Silicate lava flows born from massive volcanic eruptions along major fault lines. All of NetherWorld floated on molten hot Cores which created plate TechSonics similar to plate tectonics on Karbonon. The Silver Forest was a particularly active area. On one side was the Nether metropolis; on the other was the mist and mountains. Most Silicates never ventured beyond the walled city.

  Most of the outer land masses were sparsely populated and largely unexplored. Tales of strange Silicate creature
s were spun to entertain impressionable young Bytes. Once they reach maturity they dismissed the stories as legend. In truth, very few really knew what went on in the Outer ROM. Speculation about the mystical beings and magical land were blogged about throughout the Nether metropolis.

  By the time he reached the edge of the silver forest, he was exhausted. Fortunately the insects preferred the dank forest over the field he now faced. The bevy of bugs thinned to a handful of stubborn stingers.

  Hands on his knees, he tried to catch his breath. After a minute or two of heavy breathing, he was able to stand and survey the clearing. Before him was a vast grassy field followed by a collection of what appeared to be skyscrapers wrapped by a massive stone wall. The stream began at the forest edge and travelled directly to the walled city. Murky green and freckled with dark triangle leaves, the grimy stream frothed along the edges. A bubbly lime beard framed the tortured tributary. The buildings were too far out to determine what they were. There were a lot of dark spots scattered throughout the field. It looked like the field was dying. The tarnished grasses appeared brittle. As he walked through the grass, the dark stalks crumbled when touched. The field was indeed dying.