Profusion

by Stan C. Smith

  Quentin and Lindsey frowned at each other. They had known this was coming, but they both had admitted they would be perfectly content never climbing one of these damn things again. It was a rope ladder, or yebun, 150 feet long, made with the silk from spiders Samuel had bred for this purpose. The yebun was basically one continuous rope, thin as a child’s pinky finger, with loops woven into it every two feet or so. The loops were rigid so they would stay open, allowing climbers to insert their feet. The villagers would typically climb them one person at a time to reduce the risk of snapping the rope. Quentin still had both feet on the ground, yet the thought of the rope snapping made his stomach lurch.

  Without glancing at them or saying a word, Sinanie started climbing.

  Lindsey said what Quentin was thinking. “Samuel, we’re really in a hurry to find Addison. Perhaps we can forego the visit to the treehouse?”

  Samuel tilted his head toward the rope ladder. “My dear Lindsey, has it been so long that you have lost your arboreal fortitude?” The corners of his mouth indicated a slight smile, a rare thing for Samuel.

  “Most humans stopped living in trees millions of years ago,” she replied.

  “That is an interesting supposition I would like to discuss when time allows it. For the present, however, we should ascend to the hut so that we may rest and eat. In addition, you may be interested to witness what my indigene hosts have been doing in the central hut.” Samuel waited for the rope to stop shaking, indicating Sinanie had reached the hut. He then held one hand toward the rope and bowed, inviting Lindsey to go first. It was a strange gesture for a man dressed only in a skin loincloth and a vest made of spider silk.

  Resigned to the inevitable, Quentin and Lindsey shed their packs and removed their hiking shoes to make the climb easier.

  Minutes later Lindsey reached the top of the ladder, and Quentin started climbing. Before he was halfway up, he had found his rhythm and was making quick but cautious work of it. When he began entering the lower canopy foliage, he looked down. Samuel was far below, appearing very small and pacing back and forth as if he were thinking about something.

  Quentin kept climbing, passing through at least ten yards of dense foliage before arriving at the opening in the hut’s floor. The rope was fastened to a limb that was part of the hut’s ceiling, making it easy for him to climb though the opening and step off onto the floor.

  The walls and ceiling hadn’t changed much in eight months, even though they consisted partly of living vines. One exception was that the hole in the ceiling where Addison had once entered with the intent of killing everyone had grown shut. Like all the huts and tunnels of the village, this one was suspended from the tree branches rather than resting upon them. The tribe lived, quite literally, in a hanging village. In the center of the hut was its most prominent feature, a thick trunk rising up through the floor and out the ceiling. It forked into two branches at chest height. The Lamotelokhai had existed there for years, molded to the trunk like a massive lump of clay, until the day Bobby had asked it to change its shape so it could walk to civilization. To Quentin’s dismay, Bobby had asked it to change into the shape of Addison.

  There wasn’t time to dwell on these memories, because six Papuan villagers seated upon the floor had paused what they were doing to stare at the newcomers. Quentin knew them all by name: Teatakan, Kumbi, Ot, Korul, Yerema, and Jara. In front of them were four woven baskets containing small stones, and scattered on the floor were various wooden and stone tools.

  Ot spoke to them. “Lindsey, Quentin, gu laléo lai-ati-bo-dakhu, lelé-mbol-e-kho-lo lal wafil?”

  “Ot wishes to know if you come here as spirits or as a woman and a man,” Samuel said.

  “We are well and do not come as spirits,” Quentin replied.

  Samuel translated. Ot and the others went back to what they had been doing.

  Samuel swept his hand toward the Papuans. “I do not know what forces motivate these indigenes. After many years with them, I still find them to be perplexing. Perhaps they themselves do not fully understand it. They are but savages, after all.”

  Lindsey furrowed her brows at him. “Samuel, you should come with us back to civilization, at least long enough to be exposed to current ideas about race and culture.”

  Samuel ignored this, and Quentin stepped forward to observe the contents of the baskets. The first contained walnut-sized river stones. The second contained stones that had each been roughly carved into the shape of a squatting figure. When he looked in the third basket, it became clear what the villagers were making. It contained at least a hundred finished figurines. They were all nearly identical to the tree kangaroo figurine Quentin and Lindsey each had in their pocket. The fourth basket contained another small pile of the finished figurines. They appeared to be no more refined than those in the third basket. Quentin kneeled and reached into the last basket to pick one up, but he was stopped by hasty rebukes from several of the villagers.

  “I was told the same when I attempted to touch those,” Samuel said. “You may pick up any of the talismans from the third basket, but not from the fourth. They have told me only that the fully completed talismans would be spoiled were someone to touch them. I assumed it was for the same reason that Sinanie gave you your mbolop talismans in skin pouches—so that his fingers would not spoil them.”

  Lindsey pulled her figurine from her pocket. “Yet Sinanie didn’t object when we touched them.”

  “Curious, is it not?”

  There was a disturbance at the hut’s wall behind the squatted villagers. The living vines were forced aside, and a tree kangaroo pushed its way through, followed by a second one Quentin recognized as Rusty. Rusty ambled around the Papuans and then lay on his side at Lindsey’s feet. The other tree kangaroo went directly to the third basket and gazed at the contents, inspecting the figurines.

  The Papuans pointed to Rusty and spoke to each other, seemingly excited or agitated. Ot spoke Lindsey’s name, followed by a sequence of unfamiliar words.

  Samuel offered a translation. “The indigenes wish you to know they are pleased that Lindsey’s mbolop talisman has had its desired effect. They seem to believe that the mbolop’s companionable behavior is proof of this.”

  Lindsey shook her head. “What does one have to do with the other?”

  “Regarding this, dear Lindsey, I am as confounded as you are.”

  Quentin hissed at Samuel and Lindsey to get their attention. He had been watching the new tree kangaroo, and he pointed at it. The creature had picked up one of the figurines from the third basket and placed it on the floor. Now it was digging into its own belly. As they watched, it rubbed a small lump of its own flesh onto the figurine. It then transferred the figurine to the fourth basket, pulled another from the third basket, and started the procedure again.

  “This is it!” Lindsey said. “This may explain what’s happening to me. And to Rusty. Samuel, can you ask them what’s going on?”

  Samuel nodded. “Perhaps they will be more forthcoming now that you are here than they have been with me alone.” He then engaged in an exchange with Ot and Sinanie.

  As they talked, the tree kangaroo systematically anointed stone figurines with extracts from its abdomen one by one and moved them into the fourth basket.

  Finally, Samuel turned back to them, shaking his head. “I know not whether the indigenes are saying what they know to be true, or whether they have contrived an elaborate ritual that they find comforting in the distressing absence of the Lamotelokhai.” He began pacing with a hand on his chin.

  Quentin and Lindsey waited, shuffling their feet impatiently. They both needed answers.

  “I suppose it is possible,” Samuel muttered, apparently to himself. He stopped pacing and looked at Lindsey. “Yes, it certainly is possible! Sinanie and several of his fellow tribesman have seen the quite extraordinary colony of mbolop where your son Addison has been residing these recent months. Whether what I am about to say is factual or not is left to be determined, but
they believe that the mbolop you call Mbaiso is creating the colony for a specific purpose.”

  “What purpose?” Lindsey asked.

  “For the purpose of assisting mankind. Mbaiso, the first of the mbolop created from the clay of the Lamotelokhai, existed for the purpose of assisting the Papuans of this tribe, particularly with tasks involving the Lamotelokhai, such as communicating with it. Although I have always considered the manufactured tree kangaroos to be little more than brutish creatures, Mbaiso apparently considers his original purpose to be of such importance that he intends to carry it out beyond the confines of this tribe.”

  Quentin glanced at Lindsey, but she looked as bewildered as he felt. “Meaning what, exactly?” He said.

  “The creatures are evidently attempting to produce one mbolop for every man and woman.”

  “Every man and woman? Everywhere?”

  Samuel sighed. “I fear the mbolop may have a poor understanding of the number of people upon this world. Likewise, I fear the indigenes fail to understand.” He gestured toward the baskets of stone carvings. “They have little experience beyond their meager tribe.”

  Lindsey said, “They’re trying to carve a figurine for every person on Earth?”

  Samuel shook his head. “Not every person, but perhaps most.” He went to the third basket and picked up one of the figurines. “Perhaps equally as curious, they have employed one of Mbaiso’s colony to assist with the final preparation of the talismans. I was skeptical initially, but the more I ponder it ….” He held up a finger. “But of course, I haven’t explained, to what purpose are they working?” He paused, as if trying to build suspense.

  Quentin finally said, “Yes, to what purpose?”

  “Indeed, although you may be as skeptical as I was.” He nodded to the tree kangaroo. “This mbolop, like the original you call Mbaiso, is composed, at least in part, of the clay of the Lamotelokhai. It has the capability of applying measured portions of its clay to each talisman, thus giving the stone specific qualities.” He paused and rubbed his chin again. “Years ago, when I attempted to discern what could be accomplished with an isolated portion of the Lamotelokhai’s clay, perhaps I should have looked instead at the usefulness of the mbolop. It could have saved me much consternation.” He continued rubbing his chin, apparently thinking about this.

  Quentin took a deep breath and tried to avoid tapping his foot impatiently. Getting a quick explanation from Samuel was like convincing a turtle to run.

  Samuel continued. “While Mbaiso has endeavored to create an mbolop to assist each person of the world, the indigenes have determined that there should be a way to designate who is deserving of such assistance. You must understand that, by their very nature, these indigenes have a rather wretched opinion of people other than their fellow tribesmen. You see, other tribes of the region have repeatedly attacked them, for revenge or to cannibalize them. And to make matters worse, many years ago Sinanie and I traveled north to Humboldt Bay, as we had heard rumblings, as if the great island of New Guinea were being destroyed. We witnessed there a most troubling display of warfare. This did not improve the indigenes’ opinions of mankind.”

  “When was that?” Quentin asked.

  “It was the year 1944, if my record of the passing time is correct. Approximately eighty years have passed since.”

  “World War II,” Lindsey said. “Humboldt Bay was the site of a major engagement between US and Japanese forces. That must be what you saw.”

  “Japanese, yes. As I suspected. I encountered one of the Japanese soldiers. The poor fellow was nearly expired from dreadful dysentery. His companions were already dead when I found him. Apparently he and the others had fled into the jungle and had become lost. His name was Iwataro Hayashi. At times I think of him and wonder if he is well.”

  Quentin gazed at him. There was only one reason Samuel would think the Japanese soldier could still be alive. “You gave him some of the Lamotelokhai’s particles.”

  Samuel glanced at the villagers as if this were a secret. They had gone back to working on the figurines, and Sinanie was inspecting the contents of the baskets. “He was in a most pitiable state, and at the time I feared I was gradually becoming a savage. I suppose I did it as much for myself as for him.” Samuel then stared at the hut’s floor, apparently lost in his thoughts.

  Lindsey said, “Um, about the mbolop and the figurines.”

  “But of course. So you see, my indigene hosts are predisposed to suspicion and fear of those outside their own tribe. It is simply their nature. Thus it should not surprise us that they have devised a way to choose who is worthy of assistance from the mbolop and who is not. They apparently believe the two of you are worthy.”

  Lindsey frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Sinanie endeavored to give you the mbolop talismans. If I correctly understand their explanation, when you touched the two figurines, you were designated as worthy of assistance from the mbolop. Lindsey, that is why the mbolop you call Rusty now belongs to you—or you belong to it, the distinction is not altogether clear to me.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Quentin wondered what was going through Lindsey’s mind. He pulled his figurine from his pocket. “When I touched this, it somehow marked me as worthy? So why did Rusty attach to Lindsey instead of me?”

  The slightest curve appeared on Samuel’s lips. “Perhaps, Quentin, it did not take a fancy to you. The point of the matter is, however, that the tree kangaroos from the colony will ‘attach,’ as you say, only to those who have been given talismans. The first person to touch a talisman from the fourth basket will become changed in such a way that they will be able to attach to an mbolop. Once this occurs, that talisman may not be applied to another person. Or so I am told. That is why the Papuans do not wish for you to touch the contents of the fourth basket.”

  It was Quentin’s turn to pace back and forth. The entire hut bounced slightly with each step. “Okay, the tree kangaroos want to help everyone by multiplying so that every person can pair up with one. The villagers want to choose who gets to do that by giving figurines only to people they think deserve it.” He stopped pacing and shook his head.

  “That is inaccurate,” Samuel said. “The indigenes do not wish to choose those who are worthy. They expect you to choose—yourself and Lindsey. You are to take the completed figurines with you when you depart.”

  Quentin stared at him. He realized his mouth was open and shut it.

  “You are perhaps distressed by this responsibility,” Samuel said with a hint of compassion. “But the importance of it may be far greater than you have yet imagined. I am myself just beginning to comprehend the significance. I suspect that the intended assistance may go far beyond mere help with minor tasks.”

  “What do you mean?” Lindsey asked.

  “I shall explain as best I can. You know as well as I that the Lamotelokhai is a wondrous and powerful phenomenon. I believe it can immeasurably benefit all of mankind.”

  “Agreed,” Quentin said.

  “However, I have become intimately acquainted with the dreadful consequences of using it carelessly.”

  “As we have,” Quentin said. “Too many times.”

  “Perhaps, but you must remember that you have known the Lamotelokhai for less than one year. I have studied it for a century and a half. I have committed numerous blunders, some with consequences difficult to describe, such was their horror. And I am a cautious and methodical man. Furthermore, my indigene hosts have lived beside the Lamotelokhai far longer. Many thousands of years, in fact. They are even more cautious than I, and they soon discovered the risks of communicating with it directly. They consequently made it tribal taboo to talk to the Lamotelokhai, and they created the mbolop for that purpose. Again, I must point out that this was thousands of years ago. I believe they would have heretofore been destroyed had they not been so cautious.”

  Quentin wasn’t sure where this explanation was going. “You don’t have to convince us the
thing is dangerous.”

  “What I am attempting to say is that the indigenes understand the perils, and consequently the mbolop, Mbaiso, is aware of the perils, as the creature was created to reduce them. Again, Mbaiso is aware of the perils. Now, consider your conversation with Ashley using your rather fantastic talking device.”

  “Our SAT phone,” Lindsey offered.

  “Indeed. Ashley indicated that something with dreadful consequences had resulted from imprudent use of the Lamotelokhai. I am suggesting that the mbolop may have foreseen such consequences as inevitable. And I suspect that the assistance they wish to provide may be far more significant than help with certain tasks. I believe they intend to save the lives of as many people as they can.”

  Quentin suddenly felt faint. He glanced at Lindsey. Her face had lost its color, indicating that she also understood.

  “How many tree kangaroos are in the colony?” she asked.

  Samuel looked at both of them and nodded once, apparently acknowledging that they grasped his meaning. “It is hard to say. Based upon what I saw when last I was there, perhaps as few as three hundred.”

  ∞

  They drank water from hollowed-out gourds. They ate their fill of dried Dorcopsis meat and the paste called khosül the Papuans made from sago palm pith and mashed sago beetle larvae. After they had eaten, they had no compelling reason to wait, so Samuel, Quentin, and Lindsey descended to the ground and departed the hanging village, Rusty close at Lindsey’s side. After another three hours of hiking, Samuel stopped and announced they had arrived at the mbolop colony.

  According to Samuel, this was the only place Addison had been seen. If he wasn’t here, it would likely be impossible to find him.

  They stared up at the endless canopy. The hanging chambers and tunnels bore a remarkable resemblance to those of Sinanie’s village. They were smaller and more concealed, but they were definitely there, faintly visible among the vines and leaves.