“Past bog and sudden mountainside,” I say excitedly. The next line of the prophecy. Mad Guy beams all over his shaggy head, teetering down to the ground and then tottering up on his rounded bottom. He looks like a garden gnome.
Norbert is gazing dreamily at the bottom left corner of the map. SHELDONBURG.
–That's Nerissa's hometown, he sighs.
“I still don't see why we can't take your spaceship,” I say. Norbert is zipping up his knapsack. Mad Guy and Butterbean are gone. We'll be leaving in a few minutes.
–You don't know much about space travel, Dingwall. Sure, the ship would get there in a jiffy, and then what? There's no tractor beam to pull us down. Before we know it, we 're over the next country.
“You landed the spaceship in my nose!” I object. “You're saying you can't land it in the middle of a great plain?”
–No offence, Dingwall, but your sense of scale is way off. You're used to the size of things on Earth. Here on Jupiter, every thing is smaller. You wouldn't be here if it weren't for the despacer.
“Are you saying my nose is big?”
Weird, I'm all, like, outraged. I wonder why. What's wrong with a big nose? Miranda has the greatest nose, high-bridged and narrow, like a knife blade, but she's sensitive about it. I told her once that I liked her nose, and she whacked me on the side of the head.
–Big? I'm saying your nose is the size of a football field.
Ridiculous.
–And remember, Dingwall. The castle is hidden. It's called Lost Schloss for a reason. We have a better chance of finding it from close range.
“You say there's food in these packs for a week. What if it takes us longer than a week?”
–Then we're out of food. I'm not coming back until we're successful. His eyes narrow, showing how determined he is.
It's a good line. I'm trying to think of something more classy than “Uh-huh,” or “Sure,” or “Me neither,” when I hear the brass fanfare.
Norbert jumps in the air. –Queen Betunka!
“Your mom,” I say.
The map room is at the end of a long hall. The double doors at the end of the hall open together. The fanfare sounds again.
Norbert pulls a string at the bottom of the big topographical map, which rolls into itself and disappears into the ceiling. Behind it is a window. First one I've seen on Jupiter. It has frosted glass, so I can't see what's on the other side. Whatever it is seems bright enough.
–Come on, Dingwall. Let's get out of here.
“Shouldn't we take a map?”
–No time. He struggles with the sash.
“But what about your mom?”
–I can't stand her good-byes. She'll kiss me, and then she'll yell at me. Then she'll do them both together. He shudders.
I know how he feels. My mom wears two faces too. Sometimes she loves me so much it hurts; other times … well, she doesn't.
The crowd noise starts to spill into the map room from the hall outside. I hear the queen's voice clearly.
“NOR-BERT! Where are you? I'm sending out invitations to the party tonight. Cecile's daughter is looking forward to seeing you again. Mad Guy, you said they were in the map room!”
Norbert succeeds in pulling up the sash. A gust of wind blows through the narrow opening and, with it, a gust of brightness. Norbert hoicks one leg over the windowsill.
–Come on, Dingwall, he whispers.
Is he really going to run away from his mom? I've never done that. Mind you, I've wanted to. I look back over my shoulder. The crowd is surging down the long hall.
Norbert leaps out the window, pulling me after him.
For a second, I'm blinded by the daylight. I have to squint to see. And what I see is a sheer cliff face flashing past me. I'm in midair, plummeting to my doom.
*Upper right as you face the map, that is. I wish I could draw it for you. I love it when the story has a map in it. I never skip over maps, the way I do footnotes. Footnotes are hard to read, and usually have nothing to do with the story. The peso, named for the Swedish philosopher Blaise Peso, is a measure of length approximately equal to a stride. A thousand pesos is a kilopeso, a unit of barometric pressure. For more information, see chapter II: “Our Friends the Swedes.” That's a typical footnote. Since I can't draw a map, I'll have to explain the geography of Jupiter in words. Good luck.
I look around for Norbert. Can't see him. The sun is directly overhead. Smaller than I'm used to – of course, it's farther away. I look down. I'm above a layer of cloud, so I can't see the jupiter. That sounds weird. The ground, I mean.
Want to know something? Falling is fun. This part is, anyway. I know that landing isn't going to be much fun, but, so far so good. I wonder if I can fly. I pump up and down with my arms. My bathrobe flaps and flutters. I don't slow down.
Still falling. The sheer cliff flashes past. My ears are popping like firecrackers. I twist myself around – harder than you think, with nothing to push off of. Oddly enough, I'm facing more cliff. I keep twisting around, and the cliff stays with me.
Wait a minute. If I'm surrounded by steep walls, I'm not falling off a mountain.
–Dingwall! Dingwall!
“Norbert!” He's above me. How did that happen, if he fell first?
–Pull up! he shouts. Put on the brakes!
“What do you mean, pull up? What brakes?”
It's darker. The sun has moved. I see a circle of blue sky when I look up. A circle? I begin to understand what has happened. Rock walls flash past all around me. I'm in a deep hole, like a well, and the sun has moved away from the lip. It's getting dark really fast.
–We're in the Chasm! Norbert shouts. The Optic Chasm! We've got to get out. Put on your brakes, Dingwall!
“What brakes?” I shout. “What are you talking about?”
He kicks his feet, and scoots down beside me. –Your slippers, you idiot! he shouts in my ear. Use your slippers!
“You're flying!” I shout back. “That's why I'm falling faster than you.”
I stare down at my plaid-covered feet. I don't see an on-off switch, or a lever. I don't see how I can fly “What do I do?” I shout.
–Start by clenching your toes.
“What? How?”
–What kind of education system do you have on Earth, Dingwall? Don't they teach you anything useful? Imagine someone is tickling the soles of your feet, and –
Ooh. I hate that. My feet curl instinctively, and –
Whoa!
The world stops with a thud. I feel a jolt in the pit of my stomach. Norbert disappears below me, shouting some insult.
I check out the rock wall. It isn't moving. I'm standing still in midair.
Wow!
Norbert flies back up to me, panting a bit. I check out his slippers. I can't see how he's making them work.
–There you go! he says. Now, let's get out of here. We've already wasted enough time.
“Could have been worse,” I say. “We could have crashed.”
–No, we couldn't. Now, let's get out of here.
He floats up past me, then turns to look over his shoulder. I'm staying still, afraid to unclench my toes.
–Oh, yeah. You don't know what you're doing.
He drops beside me, as confident and at home in the air as any seagull. –Start by relaxing your toes, slowly.
I try, slowly, and nothing happens. I relax my left foot a bit more, and immediately topple to the left. I start to somersault, so I clench my toes.
Now I'm stopped in the air again, but this time I'm upside down.
Norbert glides over.
–Balance is tricky. It's important to do everything with both feet together, he says quietly.
I nod. I can feel blood pooling at the top of my head.
–Let's try it again. Relax your toes, and wiggle them. Remember to wiggle both feet together, or you'll spin in circles. Point the slippers in the direction you want to go. If you stop moving your toes, you'll slow down and then start falling. Cle
nch your toes, and you'll stop. Okay?
“Okay.” We nod to each other, but he's right side up and I'm upside down. Our heads nod in opposite directions.
–So begin. First try to turn right side up.
Slowly, I unclench one foot. The left one. Slowly, I begin to turn over. Blood rushes from my head. I feel better. I wait until I'm upright, and clench the foot again. There. Made it. I give Norbert the thumbs-up.
–Great. Very Sid, Dingwall. Now let's go.
I'm starting to get the hang of this. I smile at him, and put myself into the Superman flying position, hands forward. Not that Superman ever wore a bathrobe or plaid slippers. I relax both feet, wiggle all my toes, and fly straight as an arrow, backwards – into the wall behind me.
Suffering kryptonite, what a shock!
I hear Norbert's voice right beside my ear.
–Clench your toes, Dingwall. You're falling!
I am? Oh, yes, I am. I clench, and stop. “What happened?”
–What did I tell you, Dingwall? Point your slippers where you're going. Your slippers are not your fingers. In fact, they're at the other end of the body.
Thank you, Captain Sarcasm. I try to visualize the correct position for flying on Jupiter. “So, I should stay standing straight up?”
–Yes. Standing is good. When you're better at it, you can try somersaults.
He's joking, of course.
So I get myself upright, keep my feet pointed straight ahead, wiggle my toes hard … and fly like a bullet right into the wall across from me.
–Clench! Clench!
Oh, yeah. I'm falling again. I clench.
–Boy, you stink. It's a good thing you fell into the Chasm. Way down here we're not going to be spotted by the Dey or his minions.
“What are those minions, anyway?”
–Minions are like myrmidons. Or helots. “Um….”
–Or slaves.
“Oh, good. A word I know.”
–Slavery isn't good, Dingwall.
“No. No, it's not.”
–Fly, now. You need lots of practice. And remember to clench to stop.
Some time later – probably a short time but it feels like forever, like the last couple of minutes of a basketball game where they keep calling time-out – I begin to get the hang of it. I keep my knees bent for balance, and my slippers pointed where I'm going. I practise wiggling gently, every now and then, to keep airspeed. I can steer in a straight line, and make gentle turns.
I'm sweating from concentration. Remember learning to ride a two-wheeler? It's like that. It's fun, all right, but Slippers it takes a lot of effort at the beginning. I'm starting to get a headache.
Norbert is a horrible teacher. He makes snarky comments and keeps telling me to hurry. –We haven't got all day, you blockhead! he shouts.
“I'm doing the best I can!” I snap back. “You want to leave? Go ahead. Try to find the castle and rescue the princess by yourself. But I thought you needed me. If you want my help, then shut up, you … poopy prince!”
I'm so mad I fly right up to him, sheering off at the last minute. He twists his legs around somehow to back up. I haven't mastered that move yet. I point my slippers upwards. I'm sick of the dimness, down here in the Chasm. The circle of sky way up above looks blue and bright.
It takes Norbert a minute to catch me.
–Hey, Dingwall, where are you going?
I don't say anything.
–You ready to move on, now? We've got a ways to go, if we 're going to make it to Bogway Fen tonight. You know, I think you might be. Your flying looks pretty Sid. I had to push myself to catch up.
“You think so?” On Jupiter, Sid means good. I turn with a smile. I'm ready to make friends again. “You really think so?”
Of course, when I turn, my slippers turn too and I fly right at him. He sidesteps in midair. I fly past him, clench to stop, and turn myself around with difficulty.
“Sorry,” I say, awkwardly.
–No problem. He sounds a bit awkward too.
“Guess I'm not a real Sid flyer yet.”
–Sure you are. Not super-Sid, maybe, but you're getting there.
“Thanks,” I say.
We fly side by side for a while. The circle of sky overhead gets bigger.
“How deep is this Chasm?” I ask. “I fell so far. Was I just about to crash?”
–It's bottomless, says Norbert.
“What do you mean? This hole goes all the way to the center of the … planet?”
–Farther than that. Mad Guy invented a photosonic probe, working on the intersection principle to find a target. When he tried it on the Optic Chasm, the readings came back as parallel lines. No intersection. No bottom to the hole. It goes down forever.
I look back over my shoulder. The sheer rock walls of the hole go down and down, narrowing, darkening, disappearing. I shudder. Forever is a long way.
I want to stop for a rest when we finally get out of the Chasm, but Norbert says no. We've wasted too much time already, he says. He scoots away.
Everything looks bright after the dimness of the hole. The walls of Betunkaville are rose colored, with the sun above them. The land beneath me, covered in scrub bushes and stands of trees, slopes gently away from the declining sun. On Earth that'd be east, but I don't know where the sun sets on Jupiter. That's the way Norbert leads us.
Lightning flashes in the distance. We're too far away to hear the thunder. Norbert tells me not to worry; there's always electricity somewhere in the Jupiter sky.
I ask him to tell me more about the minions. If I'm going to defeat the Dey, I want to know about his servants. “I see them as little round smelly guys,” I say.
He laughs. –Those are onions, Dingwall.
“Oh, yeah.” They must be what I'm thinking of.
–Minions are slaves of the Black Dey. Sometimes we call them hired hands because that's what some of them look like, but the Dey doesn't hire anybody. They're slaves, all right. They're not very big, but they work together, and they appear out of thin air.
“Well,” I say, peering around, “I can't see any hands here.”
–Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not here, Dingwall. Back on Earth, people couldn't see me.
Norbert leads the way. I'm on his left, but behind. His slippers are perfectly still in the air. Mine keep sliding to one side, pushing me off course. I have to work harder than he does to keep up.
I wonder where everyone is. The countryside below us looks like Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard. I ask Norbert about it, and he tells a strange and disturbing story. –This land wasn't always empty, he says, poking his arms out. It used to be prime pasture for rocking horses.
“With saddles and big staring eyes and handles you can hang on to?” I say. I had one like that.
–Many years ago, this land was filled with them. They were everywhere, rocking wild and free. Brown, red, purple, black, orange … all the colors of the ice-cream parlor. And the Black Dey came by and decided that he wanted to ride a rocking horse, so he caught one and climbed on, but he was too big, and he broke the rocking horse. He caught another one, and tried again, but he broke that horse too. He tried again, and again. The more horses he broke, the more he felt he just had to ride one. He caught them one by one, and sat on them, and broke their backs. And now they're gone.
Ew.
–That's the Dey's source of strength. Need. He doesn't want anything; he needs it. He has to have it. And he's stubborn and determined. He never learned that he was too big for the rocking horses. But he never stopped wanting to ride one. He caught every last horse in the land and sat on them and crushed them all to death.
I swallow. I don't feel well. I wonder what happened to my rocking horse.
We fly on. The empty land rolls beneath our slippers. The sun sinks behind us. I keep staring at the sky because it looks so strange with four moons in it. Norbert is on the lookout, checking the horizon, left to right, right to left. I'm feeling
hungry, but I don't like to ask to stop.
–Look, Dingwall!
“What? Where?”
–Minions! says Norbert, pointing. Behind those bushes. Now they've disappeared back into the air again. Did you see them?
I peer over. “Nope,” I say.
–Blind as a ball, he says.
I try to work that out.
We keep flying. The landscape changes. The bushes and trees become scarcer. Now there're grasses and mud, and more and more water. Bored, stagnant water. Some of it trickles gently; most of it just stands around. If the water were a teenager, it would be hanging around a street corner with its hands in its pockets. The smell is strong and swampy. The teenager had beans for lunch.
I'm getting tired. Correction. I was already tired. I'm tireder. I realize that my feet are asleep. I concentrate, trying to wiggle my toes. I forget to look where I'm going, and, “Help!” I cry.
Now my feet are pointing at a clump of trees, and, of course, so am I. I'm flying through leaves before I know it. I clench my toes, and stop just in time.
I'm hovering beside a smooth gray tree trunk. There's a branch in front of me, with a comfortable-looking notch next to the trunk. A perfect resting spot. I step out of the air and feel the springy give of the branch under me. After a bit of squirming, I'm sitting comfortably, with my back against the notch of the tree and my knapsack open on my knees.
That's better.
Norbert flies over.
“Can we stop a minute?” I say. I already have my knapsack open. “I don't know about you, but I'm going to see if there's anything to eat. I'm famished.”
–Good idea. He hops onto the branch beside me. Hi, Casey. How you doing? he says.
“Who are you calling Casey?” I ask.
There's a Frisbee in my knapsack. And a TV remote. And a jar of brown liquid. And a packet of sandwiches. Mmm, sandwiches. I wonder what kind.
The Boy from Earth Page 4