"What on earth is that?" Mercivil gasped and jumped back.
Stormulka leaned in, squinting. "Where did you get it?"
"I chopped it from the monstrous vine. We need to show this to Intellulka. He'll know what to make of it. Come on." Thoruk turned and marched in the direction of the professor's cabin.
When he arrived, he stormed up the steps and banged on the door.
"Who's there?" shot a voice from inside.
Thoruk recognized his old tutor's voice. "It's us. Your favorite students."
"Who?"
Mercivil peeked into the window. "Us. Come open the door. We need to talk to you."
The handle turned and Intellulka stuck his head around the door. "Oh, you guys again. Don't you have better things to do than bug your old teacher? Come on in, but don't mind the mess." He pointed at Fluf. "That thing stays outside."
Mercivil held out her hand and lowered it. "Lay."
Fluf dropped and sprawled on her belly, whimpering.
Thoruk led the way. Once inside, a distinctive waif of stale, musty air assaulted his senses as he scrunched his nose. "Is your maid on vacation — again?"
Scowling, Intellulka grunted. "I've told you a hundred times if I told you once. I don't have a maid! Anyway, I'm sure you didn't come bugging me to check out my cabin.
"Besides, after spending three years of your life within these walls, I'm sure you haven't forgotten what it used to look like. It's obvious the three of you didn't learn much from me or you wouldn't be knocking at my door, asking the same questions."
Teasing his beloved friend, Thoruk snickered. "Alright Old Man, we didn't come to hear you ramble. We've got something important to show you. You're gonna want to see this."
Mercivil glared at Thoruk. "That's no way to talk to the greatest teacher you've ever had in your life. Show him a little respect. He deserves better from you."
Intellulka grinned. "Oh don't worry about it. I've come to expect it from him. You know, simple minds and all." Tilting his head toward Thoruk, he chuckled. "Hey, if we couldn't kid each other once in awhile, life would get pretty boring.
"Besides, I don't get to talk with too many folks these days, and even his wisecracks are a welcome reprieve from the boredom tailing me every day." He walked up to Thoruk and tugged on his tightly-trimmed, cinnamon-colored beard.
"Ow. Why'd you do that?" Thoruk massaged the smarting twinge.
"Stop whining. Do you always visit people without a shirt? Look at you. You're covered in blood and dirt!"
"Well, as a matter of fact — NO." Thoruk flashed his goofy face. "Do you always yank your visitors' beards?"
"Well, as a matter of fact — only if their name is Thor." He forced a big grin. "What's so blazing important that you're here to bug me this morning? Come on, spit out the seeds, Young Man."
"More strange things are appearing. You know, like yesterday and those weird occurrences a few years back." Thoruk pulled the gruesome oddity out of his pocket and handed it to the professor. Its eyelid opened, but the menacing, red coloring of the eye began to fade.
Holding the specimen out a bit, Intellulka stared at it. "This is peculiar." He rubbed his chin. "Where'd you get this thing?"
"While we were jogging in the woods this morning, we found this massive vine strangling a man. The long thorns cut him pretty bad. He's at Doc's office now." Thoruk pointed at the dying remains in Intellulka's hand. "The creature had two eyes, like this one, and coiled tentacles that could lash out and snatch you. It almost squeezed the life out of the poor guy."
The scholar scratched his head. "Mmm." His eyes shifted to one side. He clenched a fist while gritting his teeth and whispered. "Zolokt. This is definitely another one of his doings."
Thoruk kept pinching his lower lip between his thumb and finger. "I know you've told me when I was younger, but tell me again, how does he create such hideous muclones?"
"Pay attention this time. Several years ago, the barbaric lunatic and his father, who's dead now, developed a way to artificially modify DNA strands to affect the mutation process. Instead of waiting on natural evolution, he's able to change genetic structures to generate just about any creature combinations he desires.
"Over the years, he's perfected a means to overcome the rejection process between largely different cells. When he finds something he likes, he creates copies by cloning his heinous monsters. That's why he's so dangerous to all of us.
"If just one of his concocted muclones escapes to run free and survives, it can disrupt the environment for a whole territory in only a few years. It's extremely important to seek out and destroy each and every cloned mutant we find — and he's got to be stopped! He can't be allowed...."
Before he finished his thought, Intellulka drifted into a trance, strolled to the window, and stared outdoors.
His dementia is worsening. Thoruk recognized the pattern, continuing to play out with greater frequency.
He looked at his buddies and motioned with his head in the direction of the door and whispered. "Why don't you two go home? I'll stay with him. Meet me at the library tomorrow morning at 9:00."
While they quietly slipped out the door, Thoruk snapped his fingers and gently grabbed his friend's arm. "Here, Intellulka — keep your focus on this." He extended the botanical freak to the elderly gentleman's eye level.
The disgruntled 81-year-old pushed his hand away. "Leave me alone. I don't want to do this anymore." His conscious retreated to a state of stupor as he gazed into oblivion.
After what felt like five minutes, but was likely less than one, he turned to Thoruk and smiled. "Let's go over here and talk for awhile. Remember when you kids came here for lessons every day? Those were great times." He walked to the living room, sat in his easy chair, and closed his eyes.
Thoruk knew better than to press him at that instant. He'll throw a tantrum for sure. He peered at his old friend. "Yes, those were wonderful times."
After shoving a pile of books and papers to one side, Thoruk sat on the couch across from his tired mentor. He leaned back and slumped into the lumpy, tattered cushions, shutting his eyes as well. Within seconds, his mind filled with memories of the period when his father asked Intellulka to tutor him, Stormulka, and Mercivil. Storm and I were only 13, and Mercy only 11 back then.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Shrewd Tutor
Thirteen Years Earlier: January 9 ~ 8:15 am
Thoruk and two young friends he knew from their family gatherings warily sat around Intellulka's kitchen table on a cold winter day in 2062. As he surveyed the area, he shook his head in amazement. How can that towering stack of dishes, leaning so far, not come crashing to the floor in a million pieces?
Hearing popping from the living room fireplace, he leaned back and enjoyed the smell of flaming oak that filled the air.
He glanced at Mercivil and Stormulka. "I didn't know you two were going to be here."
"I didn't either." Stormulka picked his nose and flicked his treasure into the air to some unknown landing place.
The young girl with curly, blond hair crinkled her face. "Stop picking your nose. You're gross."
Stormulka gawked. "You sound like my mom." He rolled up the sleeves of his blue linen shirt and sneered. "Miss Prissy, where did you get that awful sweater? It has ugly flowers all over it."
Mercivil peeked down at her cream-colored sweater with embroidered yellow and pink roses on the front. She glared at him as her face flushed apple-red. "You better stop making fun of my sweater. My grandmother made it for me — for my birthday."
"Umm, umm, umm." An older man, with salt and pepper hair, stood at the end of the table. Intellulka's steely, silvery-blue eyes peered over the narrow spectacles perched at the end of his nose. "Enough with the bickering." His furrowed brow relaxed. "Do you know why you are here today?"
Thoruk and the other two pupils shook their heads.
"Your parents asked me to tutor you. I've reviewed your school records, and the three of you remai
n at the top of your class since you began school. Though, as I've observed you this morning, I'm beginning to have my doubts."
The draconian instructor's scratchy but authoritative voice left no doubt who was in charge as he stared at Stormulka. "There will be NO flicking of boogers in my house or anywhere in my sight. Understood?"
The tall, skinny lad nodded. "Yes, sir."
Twisting toward Stormulka, Mercivil stuck out her tongue.
The stern tutor glared at her. "And there will be none of that as well. Do you understand?"
She twirled her hair and looked at the table. "Yes sir."
"Okay, now that the pleasantries out of the way, we are going to spend most of our time together for the next three years. Isn't that wonderful?"
Dead silence fell over the room. Thoruk glimpsed at the other two pupils, then at his new teacher. His jaw dropped, almost to the floor. He has got to be kidding! He mustered just enough nerve to ask, "What? That's a lifetime. Why us? Why you?"
"Why, why, why. Aren't you the curious one? That's good. Nothing wrong with asking questions. That's how we learn, isn't it?" Peeking at the ceiling, the crafty professor scratched his chin. "Let's see. Why us?"
He panned back and forth at each of them. "You see, your parents, previous educators, and the village as a whole, felt the three of you exhibited outstanding potential. I also think so, despite your childish antics this morning."
Stormulka's mouth opened, ready to speak.
"Ah." Intellulka squinted at him. "Not a word. You three are going to sit quietly and listen to me for awhile. I'm the teacher and you are the students. Understand?"
Dumbfounded, Thoruk and his newfound prison mates all nodded in unison.
"First things first. I'm not going to spend the next three years calling you Mercivil, Thoruk or Stormulka." He pointed to Mercivil then to the others. "You're Mercy — you're Storm — and you're Thor."
Thoruk stiffened straight up in his chair. "But I don't like...." He barely got the words out of his mouth.
"Ah, ah, ah. In this house — this class — you are Thor."
Thoruk closed his eyes. "Yes, sir." He shook his head. I hate being called Thor!
The shrewd tutor smiled. "You three have a large burden on your shoulders. You just don't know it yet. We together are going to prove to all of those who believe in us that they are right. I'm confident in your abilities. I have faith you will live up to the hopes of this community — that you will be future leaders and protectors of Ukkiville."
Gaping at each other in disbelief, Thoruk and the other two turned their heads to and fro but didn't dare speak a word.
Intellulka continued. "I know. You may not believe it yet, but you will. Now, let's begin your lessons.
"Do any of you know how you got your names?"
Stormulka's arm shot skyward.
"Okay, how do you think you became 'Stormulka'?"
"I was born on a stormy day."
"Mmm, not quite." The canny professor shook his head with his eyes closed.
"You may think you already know, but this is how the naming convention really works in Ukkiville and in the villages where you were born. When you arrived in this world with a spank to your bottoms, you received a temporary designation. Girls were called 'Missy' followed by their mom's name."
He peered over his spectacles at Mercivil. "Your mother and all others referred to you as Missy Gracivil until you were given your formal name. Boys were called 'Little' or 'Junior' followed by the father's name. Thor, you were referred to as 'Little Odinuk.' "
Intellulka stared at Stormulka. "Here's where it gets more interesting. Sometime later, after your mother and father determined your strongest trait, they gave you a formal name with two parts. The first part is determined by your strongest trait. The second comes from your family title.
"So Storm, your family name is Ulka. When you were a toddler, your parents determined that your disposition was — shall we say — a bit stormy. When you didn't like something, you threw a tantrum and started tossing stuff. Hence you were tagged with Storm — ulka."
Stormulka threw his pencil across the table. "No way. That's not how it happened."
The astute educator gaped at the pencil. "Let's see, I think the evidence is rolling on the table. Mercy, you were always tending to children and others when you sensed they were feeling bad or hurt. Your family title is Belivil, hence the name 'Merci — vil.'
"And Thor, kids were always following you around, taking orders from you on what to do. Your ancestry hails from Viking origins. Thor was a strong leader from Norwegian folklore and a title familiar in Viking tales. Your family are the Ukes. You were named 'Thor — uk.' "
Mercivil lifted her hand partway. "Why were we named in such a fashion?"
"Basically, to make things simpler. A long time ago, before you were born, people used a first, middle, and last name. With Ukkiville's convention, middle and last names aren't needed. Since the village is small enough where most people know each other, parents can avoid duplicate titles.
"The greatest advantage is that you know a person's strong trait and family name when they're first introduced. It's pretty convenient. You only need to learn one name instead of three."
While fixated on the wall, Thoruk tapped his pencil on the table. Who is this man anyway? The blazing old fart acts like he knows everything.
Stormulka raised his arm. "Who on earth thought of such a crazy idea?"
Intellulka stared him in the eye. "I did."
"What! You're the reason people call me 'Storm'?"
"Well — in a sense — yes — but it's your disposition that's the real rationale behind it."
Mercivil looked at Stormulka. "You're lucky I wasn't your mother. I would have called you 'Pickulka' because you're always picking your nose."
He gawked at her. "You're so funny. If you were my mother, I would've killed myself." He stuck out his tongue at her.
"Okay, you two, settle down."
Thoruk shook his head. Stunning, it's the old man's naming convention, and he insists on calling me 'Thor.' How does that make any sense?
The unflappable gentleman smiled. "We're moving on to another subject. You're going to learn how Ukkiville was established — a subject close to home.
"In follow-up lessons, you'll learn a part of the history about the transformation of the Old World powers, which created the need for such settlements." Intellulka pulled out an old, dust-coated map and pinned it to the wall.
Thoruk recalled seeing a similar layout a couple of years back.
Not skipping a beat, the determined instructor plowed along. "Some of your previous educators may have taught you a bit of the topics I'm going to cover today. That's okay. I'm sure you're going to hear plenty you haven't heard before.
"I'll speak for awhile, then we'll be more interactive, and I'll ask questions occasionally. Hopefully you'll provide intelligent responses or guesses. I'll fill in the blanks. Raise your hand if you want to ask a question or make a comment.
"Before I get started with our quaint village, I will briefly summarize what happened during the World Annihilation Period, or WAP, as it's referred to."
Stormulka's arm shot skyward with a big smile on his face.
"Already, what do you want young man?"
"Hey, Teach, you used a dangling preposition."
The professor's face flushed bright red as he scowled with a heart-stopping look of death. "First of all, my name isn't 'Teach.' It never will be!"
Stormulka squirmed a hundred times in an instant. "Yes, sir! I meant to say 'teacher,' sir."
Leaning forward, Intellulka squinted at the youngster who had squished down in his seat to the size of a large pumpkin, barely peeking over the top of the table. "Second, you're right. I did use a dangling preposition. But when I'm talking, I AIN'T worried about it. In fact, the only time I care about specific rules is when you are writing.
"When chatting among friends or a small party, just say what yo
u feel with a sprinkle of common sense. Don't fret if it doesn't come out exactly right. But, when you put words to paper, often seen by many, always use correct grammar. Are we clear on that point?"
"Yes, sir. I AIN'T going to mention it again."
"Good. Now where was I? Oh, yea, Ukkiville. Many of the values and practices our town upholds today stem from what was learned during the transformation of the Old World powers as a result of the World Annihilation Period from 2019 to 2025.
"There was a coordinated attack on the Western world, by several allied terrorist organizations, along with Old World countries: Russia, China, and Iran. They destroyed much of the technology and infrastructure the world relied on up to that point. Businesses, governments, and financial markets were highly dependent on electronic devices called cell phones, computers, televisions, and satellites.
"Electrical grids supplied much of the energy used by the vast majority of land-based equipment. Even satellites, orbiting about our atmosphere, required communications from computers reliant on such grids. Unfortunately, the small, portable nuclear bombs and EMP generators used as weapons wiped out all of that."
Mercivil raised her arm. "What is a nuclear bomb — or EMP?"
"Electromagnetic pulse generator — weapons causing massive destruction and loss of life, but I'll discuss more details about that in later lessons. For now, just focus on the broader points. WAP led to a global, financial collapse.
"The combination of these ruinous catastrophes, in conjunction with an epidemic outbreak of advanced forms of the Ebola and avian flu viruses during the same period, reduced the earth's population by a third. The whole world, including the devious perpetrators, was drastically affected by the devastation. Nobody was left untouched.
"Many government officials thought they would be safe in bunkers, but it wasn't the case. The attackers used cutting-edge nuclear bombs from Old Iran, suspended by cables in the enclosure of large, shielded rental trucks parked in the vicinity of important defense and commerce control locales.
"The terrorists and countries involved synchronized the explosion of strategically-located, large, atomic payloads within a second of each other. Such a tactic gave no forewarning for leaders of the Western world to seek safety.
The New World: A Step Backward Page 4