“Are the Deburnak still around?” Roger asked, suddenly worried that the Obawok weren’t going to be the most frightening things he would encounter here. Whatever had carved these passages was far larger than any Obawok.
“Oh no, no. Those creatures went the way of your dinosaurs long ago. In fact, these tunnels are almost the only thing left of them,” Firturro said as he started walking again.
Roger wanted to ask what Firturro had meant by almost, but didn’t. Instead, he continued to look around at the slick green walls they walked. The ice-cold grip of claustrophobia had left his lungs and he could breathe a little easier, and that helped ease his mind as they continued in the dark tunnels.
Shortly after that he almost fell over when Firturro suddenly stopped and turned to a small, hidden door to their right. He inserted a rather large key into a slot cleverly disguised among the shadows. The door itself was so small Roger had to hunker down to clear the frame, but once he walked through the entryway the ceiling gradually extended until it reached a comfortable height of about ten feet.
The room was just another portion of the tunnel, but the ever-thoughtful Obawok had tried to make the surroundings homey. In fact, the decor and furniture were all obviously brought in from the late seventies. Two garishly orange armchairs with semi-circle backs surrounded a white and green speckled Formica coffee table. There were also two velvet posters that made Roger chuckle at the sight of them hanging from the moss colored rock. One pictured an African landscape with two lions facing each other while they sunned themselves on a giant rock, and the other pictured a unicorn raring up amidst a forest of trees. Decorations like this on earth would have been any straight-laced parent’s nightmare, a sure sign that their child was on LSD, but here, it was apparently considered good décor.
“These are our guest chambers. You’ll stay here while studying and preparing for the Mezoglike. It’s important to your survival that you use every spare second to get yourself physically and mentally ready.”
The chuckle died in his throat, leaving his mouth covered in fur. “Survival?” Roger managed to choke out, but when Firturro only gave him a passive stare, he tried again. “Okay, if that one’s too tough for you, maybe you can tell me what the hell a Mezoglike is.”
“It’s why you were brought to Obawok.” Firturro turned and shut the door. Roger felt the anger rise up again. Here he was being more than cordial to someone who had just kidnapped him from his home, and he was getting nothing more than a few cryptic warnings.
“But why me?” Roger demanded, “What was so special about me that I was commanded to come here and appease you by running through hoops like a circus dog?”
Firturro studied Roger in silence, and Roger was immediately overcome with images from movies and books. In that world, aliens were always more evolved than humans, often using ESP and telepathy against them. He’d always believed all of that came from the minds of big time Hollywood execs, but the unusual way Firturro scrutinized him made Roger feel physically and emotionally naked.
“On Earth, your different religions preach both man’s freewill and the law of fate, and we Obawok know for a fact that they are both true because they are opposing sides of a life force. Sometime between human puberty and twenty years of age, human males appear to choose a path of either complete freewill or fate. It’s an unconscious decision, but it is something men need to do so they can go through a more natural life cycle.
“When a human doesn’t pick a direct path in life, Obawok are required by our laws to intervene. The result of this intervention is the Mezoglike, a mandated test that you must now undertake.”
Roger was silent while the information swam through his head. He rubbed his forehead and zeroed in on one of the orange monstrosities. It was cushy to the point of being lumpy underneath its velvet covering. It called out to him, and even though he’d just spent an untold number of hours sleeping, he could feel the weariness seeping through his body.
He rubbed his hands against his bare shoulders and found that he had a whole new set of worries, and those concerns mainly had to do with his clothing. All he’d had on when he’d been pulled here was his jeans and the old tennis shoes he always wore around the house. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to put on clean socks, and his feet were going to be pungent when his shoes came off.
“So, I was dragged here because you believe you have the right to interfere with what I choose to believe on earth? What kind of monsters would do that?”
“I don’t have the appropriate knowledge to answer those questions. I’m just assigned to watch you and record information. The council members retain the information I’ve given them and decide what to do with it.” He sighed, and Roger noticed how pained Firturro seemed. “I’d honestly hoped you wouldn’t be forced to come here. I had faith that you would eventually choose your own path. They just had to understand that you were, well…you were different. And different humans require….”
“So you’re what, peeping toms with a mission?” Roger interrupted. He was tired and frustrated and perverts had just abducted him.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his mind around the fact that he’d been living a perfectly normal life, boring and inane maybe, but normal, when all of a sudden Boom! here he was in a strange world with even stranger creatures telling him what to do.
Firturro seemed to understand and even anticipate Roger’s anger, and his voice showed no signs of returning the accusations. “We have to watch portions of your life in order to know whether or not you’ve chosen. There are distinct qualities to both humans who have accepted fate as their imposed limitation and those who embrace the openness of freewill. It isn’t possible for an Obawok watcher to listen in on anyone’s thoughts, and even if it were, I would not participate in such barbarian activities.” Firturro looked directly into Roger’s eyes to better communicate this honesty. “And that includes watching your sex life. I didn’t need to see that aspect of your life to determine whether or not you have chosen a path, so I have always made sure that the mirror was covered and left alone at these times. I only look in on your life for an average of four to six hours a week, and these hours are predetermined by your work habits.
“The council makes its decisions to bring people here only after putting together all of the data. An average man is given until his twenty-first birthday to decide. Do you remember what I said about the decision being made while one goes through puberty?”
“Yeah, I got that part.”
“Okay, well, our ancient texts tell us that all human men must decide. If they pass a certain age and haven’t made a decision, their souls remain in limbo. Still with me?”
“I think so, but what about the women? What happens to the human women if they don’t have to decide?” Roger found it amusing that they were referring to all humans as if they all were male. If one of those radical fem-a-nazi’s could here how this guy was talking, they would blow their tops for the chance to have an equal opportunity in being abducted by strange creatures. The image was almost enough to make him chuckle…almost.
“I don’t know what happens to the females on your planet. That issue has never been addressed in our society. They may not possess the same necessity to make a choice. Perhaps the choice has already been made for them, but they are not my concern. You are.”
“Lucky me.”
“Our society was built and is maintained for the sole purpose of preventing this needless loss of souls. That’s why you’re here. The council is going to force you to choose a path through this test.”
The weariness that had been plaguing Roger since they’d walked into the room finally threatened to overtake him. He walked to the corner and sank into the chair. The plush covering felt good, comforting, and it reminded Roger of home. Just when he thought he could finally be comfortable, he heard his stomach turn over on itself and realized that he hadn’t had anything but beer in over two days. “I need to eat. Is there anything around here that won�
��t be too disgusting?”
“Oh yes, there’s a refrigerator over there, and it’s stocked with human food. I’ll leave you alone for a few hours, but I’ll be back later with more information so we can prepare for your introduction to the council tomorrow.”
Roger was heading toward the fridge before Firturro even finished talking. “When is this test going to take place anyway?” he asked as he took inventory of the food in the fridge without bothering to turn around. Firturro was going to have to be content talking to his backside.
“The council will decide tomorrow.”
“Okay, but….”
Roger turned as he heard the door shut and lock behind Firturro, his newly formed question still hanging in the stale air. Shaking his head, he resumed his search for food. The first thing he spotted was a package of ham and a few slices of cheese. He hoped they were still good. If one hour of human time was three days here, how long did it take for human cheese to go bad?
The equation hurt his head, and he decided to go ahead and eat the cheese without worrying about the math.
He’d expected it to be a little stale, but instead he found his mouth watering after the first bite. It was hard to imagine how a dry and plain ham and cheese sandwich could make a person so content, but it did. Each bite tasted better than the last, and when he’d finished the sandwich, he was absentmindedly sucking the crumbs from his fingertips.
For a few minutes he thought about making another sandwich, but there wasn’t much food in the fridge, and he didn’t know how long it would have to last him. So instead he pulled himself away from the kitchen before he gave in to temptation to eat everything in the kitchen.
In the bedroom he noticed a large book sitting alone on an otherwise meticulously clean desktop. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. There was nothing announcing the book’s purpose on the cover, but as he flipped through the pages, he realized that it was a guide to Obawok culture.
Roger sat down in front of the desk and began to read, thinking that bullshit answers were better than nothing. After a few minutes of reading he decided that that was exactly what he was dealing with, nothing. Plain and simple topcoat and filler to keep up appearances, is what is mother would have called it, but he continued to read because even as weary as he was, his nerves were still too tightly wound to sleep.
Eventually, his body gave out and he fell asleep with his forehead on the table in front of the book, a stream of drool making its way out of the corner of his mouth and marring the wood while he slept. He stayed like that for hours before he woke up enough to drag himself to bed. And for a moment, in that blissful stumbling halfway between dreaming and reality, he could almost have believed he was home.
207
Three
Where else would you go?
Tigaffo stood outside the President’s door, his knuckles resting against the heavy oak. Talking to the leader of the Obawok was as scary a proposition to him as anything he might encounter from the human.
He was still debating whether or not to knock when the door swung open and revealed the President sitting behind a large, perfectly arranged, and meticulously polished mahogany desk. Tigaffo knew he had ordered a drove of grunt workers to bring the desk back from earth, but he still gasped at the unbelievable size of it as he walked into the room. He could barely see the President’s head over the towering monstrosity and found himself thinking, This is what having power truly means, a big desk.
Tigaffo cleared his throat and bowed his head as he crossed the threshold to show his respect.
“Mr. President?” he asked after a few seconds of tense hesitation.
“Is there something you need?” the President asked as he leaned over the desk. “You’re with Firturro, aren’t you? And I’d guess that you’re here to tell me about the human. Am I right?”
Tigaffo raised his head. “Y-yes,” he stammered before pausing and reminding himself to slow down and think. “Firturro sent me. He wanted me to inform you, uhh…and the council, umm…that the human has been removed from the decompression chamber. Afterwards, he was immediately shown to his quarters.”
“Anything else?” the President asked, bringing his face even nearer to Tigaffo’s.
Now their faces were so close Tigaffo could feel the aroma of the President’s slowly rotting teeth and recently digested root and worm stew surrounding him.
“Umm, he said the human had taken the transition rather well,” Tigaffo continued.
207
Kristi Brooks
“Yes, I suppose he did say that. But tell me, what did you think of our guest from earth? And call me Darelle. It’s my given name, after all, not President.”
The President’s broad smile spoke of goodwill and untold realms of kindness, but his eyes spoke hellish dimensions in which he would gladly spend eternities presiding over the slow destruction of anyone who stood in his way.
“Well, the human, Roger, was shaken when he first left the room. He…umm, he thought he was dreaming.” Tigaffo thought about what happened next and snickered.
“He tried to pet one of the servant gnomes, and it latched onto his hand, and he…well, he…he kind of woke up I guess. His response to the bite was tame, considering the injury. We know how bad a gnome’s bite can sting.”
“No, I don’t believe I do.” The President stared even harder at Tigaffo, hell and self-righteousness shining through the cordial veneer. “I was never stupid enough to allow one of them to bite me. But continue with your story anyway, I’m sure I can understand.” His eyes changed, and that sense of peace and reassurance returned.
Everything about this situation felt wrong, but short of running from the office screaming and crying in fear he was stuck. All he could do was to continue talking.
“Well, sir, he seemed agitated, and I thought Firturro had calmed him down. Everything was fine for a few moments, but after that he...well, he...” Tigaffo was unable to continue when he thought of the way the human might have hurt him.
“What?”
“He started to lose control, and I thought he was going to hit me.”
“This one will need to be watched closely then, won’t he?” The President patiently waited for Tigaffo to nod his agreement before continuing. “Obviously, he’s smart enough to keep you guys on your toes. Well, I’ll tell you something, if you can keep it a secret from your master.”
He leaned close, once again filling Tigaffo’s head with the claustrophobic odors of his breath, and Tigaffo found that he had to fight off the urge to reach up and claw at the President’s face. Tigaffo managed not to succumb to the desire even though his eyes were watering and his fists were clenched together.
“Do you think you can keep a secret?” the President asked again, his gaze growing even brighter.
“Yes, but I don’t understand why.”
“Firturro has some, shall we say, eccentric ideas. Since we don’t exactly agree on how these things ought to be handled, I didn’t want you to start an argument between us by repeating what I’m about to tell you. This is a crucial time, and we need everyone in Obawok to be cooperative.”
“Then why tell me?” Tigaffo asked.
“Because I need someone who’s on the inside to make sure Roger is obeying all of the test regulations.” He paused. “If the test is run fairly, then the subject cannot survive. If he cheats and somehow beats the test, it would disrupt Obawok,” the President said, leaning back in his large leather chair.
“Why would it disrupt anything?”
“Because,” he studied Tigaffo, “that would mean humans have the capability to be as smart as we are. The Obawok culture couldn’t survive under such circumstances. The ancient ones assured us of this when they discovered that our mission was to guide the humans, and our mission would be void if they were smarter. How do you lead someone who could be viewed as an equal? This would cause watchers, controllers, even workers to question the ancient texts. That is where the problems lie, because y
ou understand the texts are always correct, that their words are infallible.” The President’s shining violet eyes daring Tigaffo to challenge this statement.
“Yes,”
“Okay, and I trust you know there is a price to pay for betrayal, so I don’t think that we’ll have a problem with that. Will we?”
Tigaffo was shaking, and he wished he hadn’t come. The secret wouldn’t be hard to keep, certainly not as long as the President continued to look at him with his hateful stare.
It also helped that he agreed with the President about the human, especially where cheating was concerned. If the human happened to win fairly, he could learn to deal with that. On the other hand, if Firturro helped him win, that would cause a problem.
“You have my promise.”
“It’s good that we agree. Now go, and remember to keep an eye on Firturro. Don’t let him help the human.”
Tigaffo slightly bowed his head and backed out the door. He didn’t dare raise his eyes to the President; even if he had been informal before, looking at him now would be disrespectful.
As soon as the doors were closed, Tigaffo lifted his head and stumbled down the left-hand corridor leading to his apartment.
Tigaffo’s frantic pace lessened as he walked further down the hall and away from the powerful stench of the office, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. The shock wasn’t what was said but how. It wasn’t a surprise that the President didn’t want Roger to win. The council was comprised of controllers, and they believed the Obawok species to be superior. What Tigaffo wondered was why the President was willing to go to such desperate lengths to ensure Roger’s failure.
The question was still bothering him when he walked past the door to his room and headed toward the pit. Maybe a little trip to the women’s quarters could relieve some of his tension.
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