Rem World

by Rodman Philbrick

  “What happened to her?” Arthur wanted to know.

  Grog shrugged, which set off a series of minor earthquakes, because he’d been cooling his toes in the water far below. “MANY YEARS LATER, I HEARD THAT THE GROUND ITSELF OPENED BENEATH HER FEET, AND SHE FELL TO HER DOOM.”

  “Maybe she’s still alive,” Arthur suggested hopefully.

  “IF SHE WAS ALIVE, I’D FEEL HER HEART BEATING. DROLL IS DEAD, AND I AM ALONE. AND WHEN I DIE, GIANTS WILL BE NO MORE.”

  Morf decided there had been quite enough talk about dying. “Tell me,” he asked Grog, “have you found a helmet lying about? Arthur has lost his helmet, and if he doesn’t find a way to get back home, the universe will end.”

  “THAT’S TERRIBLE,” Grog boomed, setting off a thunderstorm. “I’VE NOT FOUND A LOST HELMET, OR IF I DID, I ATE IT BY MISTAKE.”

  Talking about eating something—even by mistake—made Grog hungry again, and he asked for more cookies.

  Arthur was happy to give him some more.

  “UUUMMMMMM! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!”

  Grog added that he was sorry that he couldn’t help Arthur find his way home, but he knew someone who might be of assistance.

  “Oh?” piped up Morf. “And who would that be?”

  “CLOUD PEOPLE,” thundered Grog. “THEY KNOW EVERYTHING.”

  And so it was that Arthur Woodbury, the fat little kid everybody called Biscuit Butt, got to ride in a friendly giant’s pocket, and climb to the very top of the world.

  WITH HIS IMMENSE legs, Grog could cover a mile in a few strides, and he set off with a purpose. Soon the cliffs and the sea were far behind, and the giant was trodding through low mountain ranges that barely came up to his knees.

  “What an incredible view!” Arthur exclaimed from Grog’s pocket. “I’ve never been up in an airplane, but it can’t be any better than this!” It was almost enough to make him forget that he was trapped in a world a million miles from home, and that his very life was in danger.

  Deep inside the pocket, Morf said, “Ugh!”

  “What do you mean, ‘ugh’?” asked Arthur.

  Morf groaned. “Motion sickness,” he gasped. “I don’t get seasick, but I do get giant sick.”

  “Raw deal,” Arthur said sympathetically. “You’re missing everything. Look! There’s a flock of birds flying below us!”

  “Oh no,” groaned Morf. And then he made sick-making noises like a cat coughing up a very large hair ball.

  · · ·

  At first the low mountain ranges were covered with bristly trees, but as the mountains grew higher, the forest thinned out, and Arthur began to see bald patches on the mountaintops.

  Grog had to slow down and wade through, for the mountains were waist-high, and he grumbled. “MOUNTAINS, MOUNTAINS, EVERYWHERE, AND EVERY PEAK IS BARE.”

  Before long the mountains got higher than Grog, and the giant had to climb over them. “HIGHER,” he muttered, making the clouds tremble and weep with rain. “MUCH HIGHER.”

  Once, when he was particularly tired and hungry, Grog stopped and rested, wedging himself between two peaks. From a distance he looked like a mountain himself and, like these mountains, he was bald on top.

  “MAY I HAVE ANOTHER COOKIE?” he asked.

  Arthur was tempted to keep the last two for himself, because his stomach was growling. But it’s not a good idea to deny cookies to a hungry giant, so Arthur dug deep in his pocket and gave Grog the last Oreos.

  “MMMMMMM! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!”

  Grog began to climb again, scaling his way up peak after peak, until they came to a mountain that was much, much larger than the others—a mountain that was as big to the giant as a regular mountain was to Arthur.

  “HIGHER!” Grog thundered, causing lightning bolts to flash between his toes. “MUCH HIGHER!”

  “How can we get higher?” Arthur asked Morf. “We’re already way above the clouds.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Morf whimpered. His face was pale green.

  “Maybe if you try holding your breath,” Arthur suggested.

  “That only works for hiccups. Is it much higher, do you think?”

  “HIGHER!” said Grog. “MUCH HIGHER!”

  The giant climbed and climbed. He climbed until he came to the highest clouds of all. Clouds so thick, the mist was like a soft, dense ceiling above the top of the world.

  “HIGH ENOUGH FOR GROG!” he thundered, and far below, a glacier melted in fear.

  “What happens now?” Arthur asked.

  “UP YOU GO,” Grog said, and he told Arthur and Morf to climb into his hand.

  Grog clung to the steep mountain with his other hand and paused, bringing his enormous face down close to his two small friends. “BE CAREFUL,” he said. “AND IF YOU EVER GET IN TROUBLE, ASK MORF TO CHANGE, AND HE WILL.”

  Arthur wanted to know what he meant about asking Morf to change, but before he could ask, the giant reached up, lifting them far into the highest clouds of all. The mist was so thick, they couldn’t see the rest of the giant, only the hand that held them up.

  Slowly the hand came to rest against a small ledge jutting out from the mountain.

  “I guess this is where we get off,” Arthur said uncertainly, helping Morf climb onto the ledge.

  “I feel better already.” Sure enough, Morf’s face was no longer green.

  “Good-bye, Grog!” Arthur shouted, his voice swallowed up by the mist below.

  But the giant was already gone. They were alone, the two of them, stuck on a ledge many miles above the ground. And there was no way to get up or down.

  “Do you think there’s even a chance that I’ll ever get home again?” Arthur asked. He was missing his mother and his grandmother. And he missed his refrigerator, always filled with delicious things to eat.

  “It’s not looking peachy just now,” said Morf, looking around. “As a matter of fact, I’d love a peach. I’m famished.” He stared at Arthur’s pockets, hopefully.

  “Sorry,” said Arthur. “I gave the last cookie to Grog.”

  “That’s the trouble with giants,” Morf grumbled. “Oh, well, I suppose we’ll just have to eat snow and pretend it’s ice cream.”

  But there wasn’t any snow. Just bare, unappetizing rock.

  “I’m not hungry enough to eat a rock,” Morf said. “Not yet.”

  “Ssssh!” Arthur hissed. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Morf asked.

  Then he heard it, too.

  SWOOOOOOP…SWOOOOOOP…SWOOOOOOP.

  The swoop of wings.

  ARTHUR AND MORF huddled together as the sound of swooping wings got closer and closer. They could see nothing through the mist, but something was certainly approaching.

  “I hope it’s not a pterodactyl,” said Arthur.

  “What’s a pterodactyl?” Morf asked, worried.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Arthur squinted, trying to make out whatever it was that was swooping through the clouds. But it was no use. Maybe he was hearing things.

  “Look out!” cried Morf. Something was taking shape in the mist.

  At first it looked like a very large bird, gliding on the updrafts, but as the thing drew closer, Arthur saw that it was not a bird at all. It was human-shaped, with wide, delicate wings. A moment later it perched on the edge of the ledge and looked at him with startled eyes.

  “What are you?” it said.

  Except for the wings, which swept from its wrists to its ankles like the wings of a large, pale bat, it looked like a girl about Arthur’s age. Its voice trembled, and Arthur realized that the flying girl creature was even more frightened than he was.

  “I’m Arthur Woodbury,” he said, trying very hard to sound casual. “I’m a visitor here, and this is my guide, Morf.”

  Morf switched his tail and bowed, and something about the way he did it made the girl creature giggle. She covered her mouth with one hand, but her eyes—quite beautiful eyes, Arthur thought—were still laughing.
r />   “Oh,” she said. “I’ve never seen an Arthur or a Morf. You both look so funny! Where have you come from? What are you doing here? Where are your wings?”

  Her name was Leela, and she had a hundred questions. Arthur did his best to answer them all, although the more he told her about his journey to REM World, and whatever had gone wrong back home, the more she became confused.

  “The World Below? There’s nothing beneath the clouds, and I should know, because I’ve flown lower than any of the others.”

  “Others?” Arthur asked. “What others?”

  “Why, the other Cloud People, of course.”

  “That’s odd,” Arthur mused. “Grog said the Cloud People know everything, but you don’t seem to know much at all.”

  Leela stood up straight and gave him a defiant look. “How dare you speak to me that way! Do you know who you’re talking to?”

  “I, um, guess not,” Arthur stammered.

  “When I grow up, I shall be the Cloud Master—the leader of the Cloud People! So there!”

  Morf tugged at Arthur’s sleeve. “Ask her if there’s a way off this ledge,” Morf whispered. “But be nice, or she’ll fly away.”

  As nicely as he could, Arthur asked.

  Leela seemed pleased by the question, perhaps because she knew the answer. “Of course there is. What good would a ledge be without a way off?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” said Arthur.

  “Ha! For all your criticisms of me, you don’t know much, do you? For your information, the way off a ledge is always up, never down.”

  Leela led them to the back of the ledge and showed them where narrow steps had been carved into the rock. “It looks awfully steep,” Arthur said, gazing up into the mist.

  But Morf was already scampering up the steps, and in two shakes of his tail, he disappeared into the clouds above. Arthur decided if Morf could do it, he could, too, and he began to climb, staying close to the face of the mountain.

  One wrong step, and he knew he wouldn’t stop falling until he hit bottom, miles and miles below.

  “Hurry up,” Leela said. She was right below him. She climbed the steep, steep stairs as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “But you’ve got wings!” Arthur protested. “It doesn’t matter if you fall. If I fall, it’s splat city.”

  “What’s a city?” Leela asked.

  Rather than try to explain, he said, “Oh, never mind.”

  “Hurry,” she insisted, nudging his foot. “I want to show you something.”

  Arthur was too nervous and out of breath from climbing to ask her about it, and Leela didn’t bother to explain. She seemed to think that Arthur should know all about the Cloud People, even though she obviously knew nothing about him.

  When at last Arthur reached the top of the incredibly steep and dangerous precipice, he was so exhausted, all he could do was flop on the ground. He lay there gasping like a fish out of water.

  Leela shook her head. “You’re the strangest creature I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m not a creature,” Arthur protested. “I’m a boy.”

  “Then ‘boys’ must be very strange creatures,” said Leela. “Come along. You’ll love what I’m going to show you. But we need to hurry.”

  She took Arthur’s hand and helped pull him to his feet. He looked around for Morf, but the mist was so thick, he couldn’t see much of anything.

  We’re inside a cloud, Arthur thought. And he was right.

  “It must be very odd not having wings,” Leela said as she tugged him along. “How do you fly?”

  “I don’t.”

  Leela looked at him, shocked. And then tears welled up in her beautiful eyes. “That’s the saddest thing I ever heard. Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” said Arthur.

  He’d never even thought about having wings, but Leela’s tears made him feel sad, too. And he sniffled a little, feeling sorry for himself. It didn’t seem fair that some creatures were thin and born with wings and lived in the air, and others—the fat Arthurs of the world—had to trudge along the surface of things.

  “We made it,” Leela said, and her face lit up with a smile. “We’re just in time.”

  Arthur started to say, “Just in time for what?” when he looked up to find that he was surrounded by Cloud People.

  As the mist cleared away he saw dozens of them, standing with great dignity upon a flat, rocky precipice. Their wings were wrapped around them like pale robes. Like Leela, they had large, beautiful eyes, and each appeared to be staring with reverence at the setting sun.

  Below them the clouds were so puffy and thick that Arthur thought for a moment he might walk across the mist-filled gulf to the next precipice. Fortunately he thought the better of it, for had he done so, this story would have ended right here, and Arthur would still be falling.

  “Hello,” Arthur said, wanting to be polite.

  “SILENCE.”

  The word came from the tallest of the Cloud People, who stood at the farthest edge of the precipice. In a gentler voice he said, “Our Mother the Sun is about to die, and Her spirit will go far, far below. Each night She dies. Each day She is reborn as morning. Her warmth makes the clouds, and the clouds make us. Let us give thanks to our Mother.”

  At that moment, just as the sun was about to go down, the Cloud People unfurled their wings. They looked like flowers opening their petals. The last rays of the sun made their wings transparent, and Arthur thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.

  “Thank you, Mother,” they sang softly, and Arthur could see that it was a kind of prayer, and he bowed his head out of respect.

  The clouds glowed with the fading light of the setting sun, and the pale green sky began to fill with the unfamiliar stars of REM World. Which reminded Arthur that he was a long, long way from home, and that he still had no idea how to get back there.

  He was just starting to feel terribly homesick and worried, when something tugged at his hand.

  “How much time do we have left?” Morf asked.

  “What?” Arthur asked.

  “Time,” Morf repeated. “How much is left before it runs out?”

  “Before what runs out?”

  “Time,” Morf repeated.

  “How should I know?” Arthur said irritably.

  “Check your watch,” Morf suggested, tapping his wrist.

  The watch. Of course! Arthur had forgotten all about the special wristwatch Galump had given him.

  With trembling fingers he lifted the seashell cover and looked into the dark abyss.

  ARTHUR SHIVERED, FEELING much more frightened than he had been while climbing the perilous precipice, or running from the tide, or hanging from the giant’s slobbering lip. Looking into the face of the watch, he had that terrible falling feeling you get in a dream, except the feeling didn’t stop, even though he was wide awake.

  “I wish I knew what went wrong,” he said. “If I knew what was wrong, I could fix it.”

  Inside the watch face, suspended in darkness, he saw his Other Self sound asleep on the workbench. The REM Sleep Device covered his head. The entire floor of the basement was flooded with liquid darkness, rising like the darkest water imaginable, lapping at the legs of the workbench where his Other Self slept on, unaware.

  He wanted to yell, “Wake up!” but somehow he knew it wouldn’t work.

  “What’s wrong?” Leela asked. She was peering over his shoulder and saw the strange, seashell watch strapped to his wrist.

  Leela seemed so concerned that Arthur decided to let her peer into the watch and see what he saw. When she caught sight of the liquid darkness flooding into the basement, she gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth. “Not that!”

  “Not what?” Arthur asked. “What do you know about the Nothing? Do you have any idea how I can get back home?”

  Leela shook her head sorrowfully. “You must speak to my father.”

  As the stars grew brighter in the sky, the
Cloud People wrapped themselves up in their beautiful wings and gathered around Arthur and Morf.

  “You are not of our world,” the Cloud Master said gravely. “Do you come from the World Below?”

  Arthur was about to answer, when Leela interrupted. “Don’t be silly, Father. There’s no such thing as the World Below. That’s just a story for children.”

  “Hush, my daughter,” said the Cloud Master. “Because you have not seen a place does not mean it doesn’t exist.”

  The Cloud Master then invited Arthur and Morf into his home, which was a kind of cave carved into the face of the precipice. The interior was lit by many small candles suspended from the ceiling. It was like having the night sky inside your house, for the candles twinkled like stars.

  “Very cozy,” whispered Morf as he curled up on a footstool.

  Leela (who hadn’t said a word since her father told her to hush) set about preparing food for the visitors. The Cloud Master watched his daughter with an expression of great affection. “Leela is the master of this house,” he explained. “It has been so since her mother died. My daughter has many strong opinions, which is to be expected in one so young, but she is wrong in her thoughts about the World Below. If there is no World Below, how can there be a World Above?”

  “Very wise,” Morf commented. “Grog the Giant told us the Cloud People know everything. He must have been talking about you.”

  The Cloud Master stared at the furry little creature casually lounging on his footstool, and then he burst out laughing. “Indeed? Is that our reputation? Remarkable! There are very old legends about Grog the Giant, but I had no idea he still existed. Was it he who brought you to the World Above?”

  “Yes!” Arthur and Morf said together.

  “Then I will try to be wise,” said the Cloud Master, ruffling his wings and sitting up straighter. “But I warn you, in spite of what Grog told you, there are many things I don’t know. No one knows everything; that is one of the things I do know. It was a hard lesson, because when I was Leela’s age, I did know everything, but as I get older I know less and less.”

  Listening to the Cloud Master speak made Arthur feel a little dizzy. Or maybe it was just hunger, because he was very hungry indeed. He hadn’t had a thing to eat since the feast in the Grand Hall, and his stomach was so empty, it kept rumbling, “Feed me! Feed me!”