“Yes, sir,” I said. “You stay right here and work on your speech. I’ll be right back.”
I went outside and around the back of the cabin to where Stubby Joe was resting in his nutrient bath. He stood completely still, with his eyes closed.
“This had better be good,” Stubby Joe said.
“I think it is,” I said. “I think I may have had an idea.”
“An idea for what?” Stubby Joe asked, opening his eyes slightly.
“That’s the thing,” I said. “I’m not entirely certain. I have this problem where I shut down when I have an idea, and I feel like I’m right on the verge. It’s possible that it’s an idea for escaping.”
Stubby Joe’s eyes widened. “Escaping the energy barrier?”
“Yes. And Ubiqorp.”
“Does this have to do with Rex? I saw him fly over.”
I nodded. “Rex thinks that all we need to meet our quota is an inspiring speech.”
“He wants to address the wranglers?”
“That’s right. He wants you to assemble everyone.”
“Everyone?” asked Stubby Joe.
“Everyone.”
“Hmmm,” said Stubby Joe. “I think I see where you’re going with this.” Stubby Joe stepped out of his nutrient bath. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to help your friend write a speech.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Stubby Joe and I spent the rest of the day helping Rex write his speech. In reality, we had the speech pretty well wrapped up after about twenty minutes, but Stubby Joe insisted on spending the next several hours helping Rex practice his delivery. I was a little worried Rex was going get bored and run back to the office, but he seemed to have concluded that if he didn’t get our numbers up, he was as good as fertilizer. After all the tricks he’d played, he was probably right. He wasn’t the only one with reason to be concerned. If this idea didn’t work, Stubby Joe was probably going to be mulched and I’d be melted down for MASHER parts. As the agitated murmuring of the shamblers outside grew louder, I pulled Stubby Joe aside.
“I get that you have a thing for Rex,” I said, “but if we don’t do something soon, those shamblers are going to stampede.”
“This has nothing to do with any feelings I may or may not have for your hot friend,” Stubby Joe said. “It’s vital that we hold off on the speech as long as possible. If our plan is going to work, our timing has to be perfect.”
“What is our plan, exactly?” I asked. Stubby Joe had been so busy keeping Rex entertained that he hadn’t had a chance to explain my idea to me. I could only hope that it was a good idea and that Stubby Joe had figured out what it was.
“The key is to…” Stubby Joe started. But then, noticing that Rex had wandered out of the cabin, Stubby Joe ran after him. I gave a sigh and followed. After a brief moment of panic, we saw that Rex had lain down on the grass near the fence that encircled the wrangler camp. Several shamblers were leaning over the fence, dangling their fruit in his face. Rex, snoring loudly, was oblivious.
“Maybe we should just let him sleep until it’s time for the speech,” I suggested.
“With those hussies dangling their fruit in his face? I don’t think so.”
“What is it with you guys and Rex?” I asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it. The shamblers. They’re weirdly attracted to Rex.”
“Are they?” Stubby Joe asked innocently.
“Every time he gets near them, they lean in toward him, like they’re reacting to some unconscious impulse.”
“Well,” said Stubby Joe. “You have to understand that shamblers are largely creatures of instinct. Their genetic programming compels them to want to give their fruit to humans. And as with any reproductive impulse, there are idealized forms that evoke an extreme reaction in the organism….”
“Hang on. You’re saying Rex is some kind of super-wrangler? Like a shambler sex symbol?”
“Only in a very superficial sense,” Stubby Joe said. “His personality leaves something to be desired. But his physical form is of the sort that shamblers want to, um, be harvested by. So they react in predictable ways.” Several shamblers vying for Rex’s attention were now wrestling with each other for the prime position across the fence from him. Rex, still snoring, remained oblivious.
“And you, being a more sophisticated breed of shambler, are immune to this effect?”
“Precisely,” said Stubby Joe. “Now help me get him away from those strumpets before they smother him.”
We walked over to Rex. “Rex, we’re not done practicing,” Stubby Joe chided.
“Blah blah, opiate of the masses,” Rex mumbled without opening his eyes. “Blah blah, seize the means of production.”
“Wrong speech, Rex,” I said.
“I don’t like the speech you guys wrote for me. It’s weird.”
“That’s just wrangler jargon,” Stubby Joe said. “You have to talk to people in a language they can understand.”
“I guess. Has everyone been assembled?”
“Um, not exactly,” said Stubby Joe. “A few of the wranglers are still out in the field.”
“I thought everybody was on strike?”
“Not everybody got the message. But we can use the PA system to make sure everybody hears you.”
*****
An hour later, we stood watching Rex hover in his scooter about ten meters over the heads of the assembled wranglers. In his hands he held the speech Stubby Joe had written for him.
“Greetings, fellow carbon-based lifeforms,” Rex said uncertainly, his voice amplified by the PA system. Stubby Joe had assured him this was the preferred form of address for soylent wranglers. “I know you have not had an easy life. You find yourselves, through no fault of your own, captive in a strange place and forced to serve harsh masters who have little respect for the ways of your kind.” Several of the men murmured in confusion. Not far away from me, Grompers, Figgles and Jim exchanged puzzled glances. Rex glanced at Stubby Joe, who gave him an enthusiastic nod.
Rex shrugged and continued. “And lately, things have only gotten worse. You’ve been ordered to move from one place to another without understanding why. You’ve been forced to stand for hours in crowded pens in the hot sun, until your limbs ache and your nutrient reserves are all but depleted. You’ve been forced to endure powdery mildew, stem rust and… is this correct? Stalk rot?”
Stubby Joe nodded and gave Rex what I assumed was the shambler equivalent of a thumbs-up. The wranglers continued to murmur and glance around in confusion, but they weren’t the only ones listening. The shamblers in the fields around us, heavy-laden with overripe fruit, began to straighten up and turn toward Rex.
“And now, on top of everything else, you face the indignity of a bumper crop and not enough wranglers to harvest it. I’m telling you, it’s not right, and I’m not going to stand for it anymore. Fruit is meant to be picked, and it will be picked.”
The murmurs of confusion among the wranglers were now drowned out by excited moans coming from the fields around them.
“Now, you’re probably wondering who I am, but that’s not important now. What’s important is that I have heard your agitated murmurs and I feel your pain. I understand what it’s like to strain under the weight of overripe fruit, and to long for a release that seems like it will never come. If I could, I would pick all your fruit for you, with my strong hands, my prominent cheekbones and my, uh, perfectly shaped chin.”
The moans and rustling from the shamblers were now almost deafening. The wranglers, finally realizing this speech wasn’t meant for them, glanced about nervously.
“Sadly, as large and strong as my hands are, I am unable to pick all the fruit myself. So I’m asking for your help. That’s right, there’s no reason to be embarrassed. It’s time to stop waiting around for someone else to come along and pick that fruit. Your
fruit is perfectly ripe and it’s time to harvest it. You heard me. Yank that fruit off. Don’t wait another moment. Do it for me!” Rex stretched out his arms, holding his hands high for all to see.
The murmuring and tittering had reached a fever pitch, and thousands of tentacles waved wildly in the air. In places, the agitation was so great that the shamblers strained against the fences. The wranglers shrank bank in fear. The whole plantation was like a barrel of gunpowder waiting for a spark. Rex continued to float above the scene, his arms outstretched. I had a sense that something else was supposed to happen at this point, but nothing did.
“What’s going on?” I asked Stubby Joe, who stood next to me, mesmerized. He didn’t respond.
“Stubby Joe!” I yelled, grabbing him by the tentacle. “Nothing is happening!”
“He really does have a perfect chin,” Stubby Joe said dreamily.
“Snap out of it, Stubby Joe! What’s going on? I thought the shamblers are supposed to—”
“Rex Nihilo, I love you!” screamed Stubby Joe, his shrill voice audible even above the din. Rex grinned and pointed two fingers at Stubby Joe. Stubby Joe, nearly faint with excitement, began grabbing his shriveled fruit and chucking it at Rex.
“Whoa,” said Rex, ducking as the fruit whizzed past. “What’s the big idea? I’ll grant you that speech was a little weird, but—” He stopped abruptly as a full, ripe fruit hit him squarely in the chest. “Hey!” A fruit soared over his left shoulder and three more smacked into the front of his scooter.
A chain reaction had erupted, and soon hundreds of fruits were flying at Rex. Realizing he was in danger of being knocked out of the sky, Rex hit the thrust on the scooter. But seemed only to excite the shamblers more. The sky was darkened by the sheer volume of fruit being thrown at him. Rex zig-zagged crazily across the sky, trying to hide behind the scooter’s controls. The bulk of the fruit missed him completely, but the scooter was getting pummeled badly and occasionally a lucky shot would hit Rex directly, threatening to knock him to the ground. Most of the rest of the fruit landed harmlessly on the ground or disintegrated upon impact with the energy barrier. Then a particularly juicy fruit smacked against Rex’s face and Rex, blinded by the green goo, steered the scooter dangerously close to the barrier.
“Sir!” I cried as the scooter accelerated, “Turn left!”
But my voice was drowned out by the din. I lost sight of Rex for a moment amid the flurry of flying fruit, and then saw a sudden flash of orange light in the sky.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Stubby Joe, having exhausted his supply of shriveled fruit, stood watching the spectacle in silent awe. I grabbed one of his tentacles.
“Come on, Stubby Joe!” I cried. “Rex needs us!”
I took off running toward the fading orange light, and Stubby Joe followed. We made our way through the crowd of terrified wranglers, still huddling inside the fence, and then past several thousand writhing and moaning shamblers. At first it was just a matter of avoiding getting knocked over by stray tentacles, but soon we reached a point where the shamblers were so tightly packed together, we could go no further.
“Out of the way!” Stubby Joe growled, using the commanding tone he’d perfected over many years as a soylent wrangler. The much larger shamblers shrank away as we approached, and soon we found ourselves in a ring of them crowded around what was left of Rex’s scooter. It was entirely covered with green goo.
“Back off!” Stubby Joe snapped to the shamblers as I approached the wreckage. As I drew closer, I saw something moving. It was a hand protruding from the goo.
“Sir,” I said, “hold on!” With Stubby Joe’s help, I pulled Rex from the slime.
“Wow,” Rex exclaimed, stumbling and slippering in the fruity green muck. “I don’t think they liked my speech very much.”
“On the contrary, Rex,” Stubby Joe said, regarding Rex with admiration. “You were magnificent.” He wiped Rex’s face with his tentacle. Rex ducked as another fruit whizzed past his head.
“Sir!” I cried as the fruit hit the ground a few meters from scooter wreckage. “Look at that!”
“Yeah, that’s been going on for a while now, Sasha,” Rex said, as another fruit hit the ground near his feet. “Try to keep up.”
“Not the fruit,” I said. “The barrier! It’s down!”
“Why, so it is!” Rex exclaimed. “Come on, Sasha. Let’s get away from these freaks!”
Rex broke into a run, slipping and sliding in the puddles of green goop. Stubby Joe and I ran after him. Most of the shamblers were spent, but fruit continued to hit the ground sporadically, and several dozen shamblers, apparently attracted by Rex’s magnetism, wandered after us.
A couple hundred meters outside the plantation, we stopped to rest. Looking back, we saw the barrier flicker back to life. “All that fruit hitting the barrier must have overwhelmed the generators,” Rex said. “Man, what unbelievable luck!”
Shamblers were now walking free all over the plain outside the plantation. Many of the wranglers had gotten out as well. Grompers, Figgles and Jim, leading their own parade of shamblers, were not far behind us.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “It’s as if we planned it.”
A fruit smacked Rex in the side of the head.
“Hey!” Rex snapped. “We’re done with that now, okay? No more fruit-throwing!”
A shambler that had been quietly approaching Rex dropped its fruit surreptitiously to the ground.
“We’d better get out of here,” Rex said. “Security will be here any minute.”
“Are you sure, sir? You could probably still go back to your quality assurance job. Tell your Ubiqorp bosses the shamblers rebelled and took you captive.”
“Nah,” said Rex. “I’m not cut out for corporate life. I’m a ne’er-do-well and a scoundrel, like you said. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
“We need to split into smaller groups,” Stubby Joe said. He called to the wranglers behind us, “Grompers, you go that way. Figgles, you take Jim and head that direction. They’re less likely to catch us all if we’re spread out.”
After some discussion, Grompers and Figgles did as instructed. Some of the shamblers peeled off the main group to follow them. “This way,” said Stubby Joe.
The plantation was surrounded by barren, flat ground for several kilometers in all directions. Our only hope was to reach the hills that lay in the distance, where we might be able to find some cover. Working in our favor were the shamblers and wranglers wandering around outside the plantation. As long as they remained dispersed, it was going to be tough for Ubiqorp to round up all of them. Unfortunately, Rex was still leading a sizeable entourage of shamblers. Rex stopped walking to face his botanical entourage.
“Shoo!” he yelled. “Go on, get out of here!”
The shamblers stopped, looking duly chagrined, and then immediately began following again as soon as Rex turned his back.
“This is pointless,” Rex said. “I might as well have a target painted on my back.”
As he spoke, a fruit smacked him between the shoulder blades.
“What did I say about that?” Rex snapped, spinning around to face the shamblers. The two nearest him pointed at each other with their tentacles.
“We have to keep going, sir,” I said. “If we stop, they’ll catch us for sure.”
“Sasha is right,” Stubby Joe said. “Also, I should point out that the shamblers are nearly exhausted from their, um, exuberant display of affection, and in any case they are not built for long-distance travel. Eventually most of them will fall behind.”
Rex grumbled but did not make any further efforts to disperse the shamblers. As it turned out, Stubby Joe was right: after a few more minutes of walking, most of the shamblers had given up. A few persisted, still propelled by their attraction to Rex, but these soon began to flag as well. Only Stubby Joe seemed able to keep up.
“How can you keep going, Stubby Joe?” I asked. “Don’t you get tired like the others?”
“My nightly nutrient baths give me a reserve of energy to draw upon,” Stubby Joe said. “It’s also possible that the other shamblers’ attraction to Rex was superficial, causing them to give up at the first sign of adversity, whereas my motivation is purer.”
“What is that mutant babbling about?” Rex asked, without looking back.
“He’s saying he’s in lo—”
“Are you tired, Rex?” Stubby Joe asked. “I could carry you if you want. Although my fruit is small and bitter, my tentacles are quite strong.”
“I’m good, thanks,” said Rex. “Uh-oh.”
We had reached the top of the first hill, and Rex had stopped to look back toward the plantation. At least a dozen MASHERs were busily rounding up escapees.
“Don’t worry, Rex,” Stubby Joe said. “I can wrap you in my tentacles and they’ll never find you.”
“I’m not sure that will help,” I said. “Look.”
It was clear that the MASHERs were focused on rounding up the shamblers, not the wranglers. In fact, they seemed to be ignoring the humans entirely. We watched as a MASHER stomped right past a huddled group of terrified wranglers to corner a lone shambler. Stubby Joe winced as the MASHER activated its flame thrower, engulfing the poor shambler in fire. It stumbled around for a while and then fell to the ground.
“Containment,” said Stubby Joe. “Of course. It’s the cornerstone of Ubiqorp’s business model.”
“Eh?” Rex asked.
“Ubiqorp rakes in money by cornering the food market on Jorfu, because nothing grows here except shamblers. But shamblers grow like crazy. If they get out of the plantation, they’ll spread all over Jorfu. People won’t have to buy SLOP anymore, because they can just pick fruit right from the plants.”
“Doesn’t the fruit taste terrible?” I asked.
“No worse than SLOP,” Stubby Joe said. “That’s what I hear, anyway.”
“This is good news then,” said Rex. “It’ll buy us some time while the MASHERs are hunting down the shamblers.”
Out of the Soylent Planet (A Rex Nihilo Adventure) (Starship Grifters Book 0) Page 15