The Valley Beneath the World: The Fugitive Future - Book One

by Brian Lowe

  Tizinti (the humanoid ones) were smaller even than Thorans, and slender as, if you'll pardon the expression, a twig. All were green, but varying in tone from lemon-yellow to almost black. Their fingers and toes were long and flexible, their mouths small, their noses nearly non-existent. They flitted among the branches of the forest trees like bugs, never looking down, never at a loss for somewhere to sit, or stand, or hang.

  And they treated us well, under the circumstances. We weren't bound, or beaten, or made to do much of anything. We weren't even warned against escaping. Then again, "we" were terrified to move.

  Being trees, or at least part of the forest, the Tizinti didn't bother with shelter from the elements. Nor did they worry about support underfoot, because they were as at home in the branches as in their mothers' arms--which they may have been. But that meant they had no facilities to house their prisoners--us--so they had simply dumped us in the nearest convenient clutch of limbs that they could find, one hundred and fifty feet off the ground.

  The crotch we inhabited was a good ten feet across, although it lacked anything you could properly call a floor, just a point where several branches sprouted outward. I inched my way to the edge so I could look over, ignoring Avanya's moan of terror on my behalf.

  "I could make it," I reported. "There are lot of branches between here and the ground, and this is an old tree. It's peppered with handholds and crevices." I turned to settle myself in more comfortably. "At least as far as I can see. If it gets smoother further down, that would be a problem."

  Avanya was huddled up in the center of our little nest, arms around her knees. She shook her head.

  "No. Not a chance. I'm not athletic like you. And I'm afraid of heights. Besides, it's not like the Tizinti are simply going to let us try."

  "Well, then, I'll have to do the climbing for both of us." Without warning, I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder; she only weighed about as much as the neutron cannon, when it came right down to it.

  Avanya gave one shriek and fainted.

  Great. My mother would be so proud. I laid her back down gently on the softest spot I could find. Then I laid myself out and looked at the leaves, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, I fell asleep from sheer boredom.

  When I next awoke, Avanya was gone.

  XXIX

  As soon as I shook the sleep out of my head and realized she wasn't there, I rushed to the side of our nest and looked over, hoping I wouldn't see a white shape blotting the landscape 150 feet down.

  I didn't see her body, so I ran about making sure she wasn't lying on another side of the tree. No sign of her. Well, that was good… but where the hell was she?

  Slowly, I became aware that I wasn't alone. I looked about but I couldn't see any more in the branches surrounding me than I had on the ground. Yet I knew the Tizinti were there, even if they were so well camouflaged that I might never find them. I couldn't read their thoughts unless they were broadcast at me, but at the same time there was a fuzzy sort of mental "background noise" in their presence, not unlike leaves rustling in the wind.

  What they wanted from me--from us--in the long term was incomprehensible, but what they wanted right now was plain: They were watching me. Not surprising, since they probably had few visitors, and maybe that explained their motivation, simple curiosity. Somehow I didn't think so, but so long as they didn't bother me, they could watch as long as they wanted.

  The mystery of Avanya's disappearance was uppermost in my mind, of course, and I didn't doubt that these Tizinti could answer my questions, were they so inclined, which I did doubt. If they didn't want me to see them, they sure weren't going to talk to me.

  Still, this would present a great opportunity to test my limits. I had gotten the impression from our brief orientation speech that the Tizinti didn't much care what we did with our time. They hadn't actually forbidden us to leave, even, although our being seized and placed so high in the air argued for their intention of keeping us around. And yet, even that was just an assumption on my part. Maybe they'd only meant to protect us from some danger we couldn't see. There was only one way to find out…

  I have never suffered from Avanya's fear of heights. In any event, without her to worry about, I set off through the dense tangle of trees to see what I could see.

  It was immediately apparent that this forest was old. The boughs were so intermingled that sometimes I didn't know when I'd stepped from one tree to another.* The paths were narrow and cramped. There was little room overhead, and half the time I couldn't have fallen through the branches if I'd wanted to. It was like a gently rolling floor, and other than making sure I didn't turn an ankle, I was quite at ease.

  The mental rustling that signaled Tizinti nearby didn't abate, so I was pretty sure they were following me. Since so far they hadn't tried to stop me, it was time to take the next step. I halted at the next trunk I encountered. I couldn't reach half-way around it. Its knots, cracks, and broken branch-stumps were almost as good as a ladder. I grabbed tight and started to climb down.

  And then I saw them. The mental buzz got louder, and all of a sudden there were little green twigs with arms and legs and heads all around me. They didn't touch me--it was ridiculous to think they could have physically harmed me--but I got the distinct impression they didn't want me climbing down. They even got the idea to descend ahead of me to block my path--they climbed like spiders--but I just kept finding hand- and footholds and continued on my way.

  Until they all scattered and the tree started shaking.

  Up until that moment I hadn't realized just how alive the trees were. I knew they were alive, obviously, but sentient, and capable of action, that I hadn't figured on. As I held on for my life, I suddenly understood it. The Tizinti "elders," as I thought of them, were slow but determined. The tree was heaving and bucking like there was a hurricane, but in all different directions. I was barely holding on.

  One of the tree guys appeared right next to me, making me yelp and almost lose my grip. As calm as a man walking down a sidewalk, he reached out to me, holding me under one arm with a weak but unmistakable upward push. Gritting my teeth against the effort to hang on, I nodded and, letting go for the briefest instant, grabbed a knob above my head.

  The shaking stopped instantly. Once I had allowed myself a couple of deep breaths, I climbed back up the tree, now steady as the Earth itself, until I regained the path I had used to get there. I made my way back among the muted buzz of the Tizinti's telepathic conversation and flopped into the cluster of branches I called home.

  Comfort-wise, as a prison this ranked near the top: It was spacious, dry, and temperature-controlled. The overhead boughs shielded me from the sun, and there was no wind or rain. In every other respect, the accommodations ranked dead last. For one thing, it was boring. The first day, I explored my surroundings, an occupation with which the Tizinti did not interfere so long as I did not try to climb down--or having climbed up, did not attempt to descend below the level of my "nest." But the forest was only so big, and there was nothing to see but branches and leaves and tree trunks, and no Avanya. The Tizinti allowed birds and small animals to share their domain, and these were not shy, but I'm not a biologist.

  Which leads directly to my second and greater complaint: They never fed me. I'm not a picky eater, but there was nothing there to eat. As near as I could figure, my hosts existed by photosynthesis, although they might engage in other nourishment out of my sight.

  I couldn't eat the tree itself; its bark was old and hard as stone. Only the fact that the Tizinti had allowed leaves to gather in the hollow where I slept made that space livable. I might easily have caught some of the small birds or animals, but I wasn't yet that hungry, and I wasn't at all sure how the Tizinti would take to it. I feared I would soon have to find out.

  With nothing to do and not wanting to waste my strength in case I didn't eat for a while, I sat. I tried to pick out bits of "sky" through the dense leaves. My mother has always said I could sleep
through an earthquake, so I napped. It didn't do anything except mean I was hungrier when I woke up. Finally, all of my limited opportunities being exhausted, I attempted one last, desperate stab at entertainment: talking to the Tizinti.

  Which only proves that you don't know until you try.

  It's generally accepted that you're looking at the person you're talking to. I mean, obviously you don't have to be, but there is usually some visual contact, when the person is in the same room with you--although in the present instance "in the room" was a vague concept, because there were no walls and no ceiling. Ironically, the problem was that I couldn't see the "people" I was trying to speak to even without any interfering walls or a ceiling. I might as well having been talking to thin air.

  So I laid there and just talked. I knew they were there because I could feel their thoughts buzzing around me. I was hoping, of course, that they could hear mine, as well. For a while I tried shouting at them, broadcasting so loudly that in any normal setting I'd be considered a major nuisance, if not downright crazy.

  If the Tizinti did think I was crazy, they were polite enough not to say so. On the other hand, if they could hear me at all, they weren't saying that, either. I just kept going. It felt really weird, but what did I have to lose?

  I was still talking--babbling, really--when I fell asleep. And I had a dream.

  You have to forgive us, but you talk so quickly it's hard to understand you. A Tizinti was hanging from a branch over my head, an apologetic expression on its face. In my dream, I wondered how long it could keep that up before the blood all ran to its head. You ask that kind of stupid question in dreams. We had to wait until you slowed down, and even then it wasn't easy. There is so much going on in your brain!

  "What a nice compliment," I thought. "My mother would probably disagree. I wonder what Rose would say…"

  From your memories, it looks as if your mother's brain would move even faster than yours. But Rose--Rose is so cold. There was a pause. In our earliest memories we recall such cold minds, but we haven't had--machines--in so many years…

  "Rose is a very nice machine," I said. "I like her." I was somewhat surprised to hear myself say it, but it was a dream, so I went with the flow.

  You have been trying to talk to us for so long. No one has ever tried so hard. What did you want to say?

  I was having a dream. What did it matter what I said? "I wanted to ask where Avanya was." It was the first thing that floated into my mind.

  We took her away from you when you tried to hurt her.

  "I wasn't trying to hurt her! We were… trying to leave."

  You tried to hurt her. We have seen the larger animals hurt the smaller. We let the smaller animals live with us. They take our seeds and leave them on the ground to spread our branches. When the larger ones come to hunt, we protect them. We took both of you because you were larger animals, but now that you have hurt the smaller, like we have seen the others do, we will protect her.

  I tried to reach for the Tizinti, but it was a dream, and I couldn't make the stretch.

  "I don't hurt people!" I protested.

  You hurt the smaller one. You larger ones always do. We have seen it. A pity you have nothing else to say.

  My eyes popped open, but their was no Tizinti above me, or at least none that I could see. I wiped my face with my hand, trying to retain the memory of the dream, but all I had left was the aching sense of an opportunity lost.

  XXX

  When I was rested, I made another attempt to climb down. This time I abandoned stealth for speed, thinking if the trees were as slow to react as they seemed, I might get far enough that I could actually jump the rest of the way, or at least shimmy far enough down the trunk that the shaking wouldn't be so violent.

  No such luck. The Tizinti elders might be slow, but they weren't stupid. The shaking started the instant I set a foot below the invisible line I wasn't supposed to cross. It wasn't quite as hard as before, but I got the unmistakable feeling it wasn’t that the tree wasn't trying, it was just giving me a warning. I took the warning to heart and returned to my nest.

  I spent some time examining the nearby trees whose branches intersected with the tree where I stood. If I became desperate enough, I might jump from one to the next, basically making a controlled fall through the boughs. Trouble was, I had no idea where the branches ended, or what I'd do if I landed on one that couldn't take my weight. I filed that option away for when "suicidal" seemed a viable choice. If they didn't feed me in the next day or so, it would.

  Since shouting at the Tizinti had been so successful--at least in my dreams--I tried it with Avanya. Try as I might, she either couldn't hear me or didn't want to respond. I flopped back into my bed. This was becoming exhausting.

  Your energy is astonishing. Your cries are attracting every large animal in the area, but most of them know better than to wander amongst us.

  This was getting weird. I'm not one of those people who have sequential dreams, but here I was again, and there was that same Tizinti hanging over me. At least I figured he was the same. What difference did it make anyway?

  It makes no difference. But we cannot say the same for you. We have talked to the smaller one and she has confirmed that you were right. She was afraid, but you were not trying to hurt her.

  Can you be surprised in a dream? I've been scared in dreams, I've been frustrated, but I don't remember ever being surprised in one before. But I was now.

  "You talked to her?"

  I did not say she told us anything. Since she has not tried to communicate with us, we have not communicated with her. But her mind was easier to understand than yours, and we were able to learn what we needed.

  I dismissed the idea that the Tizinti had less trouble reading Avanya's mind as a bit of dream-logic. Not that any of this mattered, since it was all in my head, but I played along.

  "Well, since now you know, any chance I can get some food?"

  We have not yet decided what we are to do with you, but we will give you something to make up for our unfairness. It appears that the smaller one led you here. If that is the case, then treating you as we do other large animals would be wrong.

  I scrunched up my brain at that one. "What do you mean--treat me like the other large animals?"

  We protect the smaller ones that live in our trees. They help us to spread our roots. They are few, so we must protect them. When the larger ones come to hunt, we take them up. When they die, they nourish us.

  It is interesting, talking to you. When you awaken, you may feed.

  Oh, how nice. They wanted to fatten me up before they had me for dinner. What a lousy dream.

  Except that when I woke up, I found a pile of nuts next to a makeshift bowl full of water.

  Regardless of my pitiless self-appraisal of my intellect, it didn't take me more than a second to realize that what I had been experiencing was no dream. I really had been talking to a Tizinti--maybe all of the Tizinti. And unlike a dream, I remembered our conversation quite clearly. Obviously, our kinds of telepathy were mutually incompatible unless I relaxed to the point of unconsciousness. Where that left the Tizinti's comment that Avanya's mind was easier to read, I had to shelve until another day.

  The question in front of me was whether I could talk to them without being asleep, which rather limited our opportunities. Before I could do little but sleep; now, I had a feeling, it was going to be harder to come by.

  Still, even more pressing than that was the fact that I was starving, which you can believe I had begun to address with a will before my rational mind had even left the starting line. While I was pondering my situation, I was already stuffing my face. What kind of nuts I was eating, or where the rather brackish water had come from, was irrelevant. There was no point in poisoning a starving ape, so I just ate what I was given without hesitation. It didn't last long.

  Afterward, I wasn't full, but I was a lot less hungry, and I could return my attention to longer-term concerns. I've never been much f
or meditation, but I'd heard of it, and it seemed to me to be worth a shot. Just slow down my breathing and relax. Even if I fell asleep, I'd get where I was going. I could feel the Tizinti humming around me, and I used it as a focus…

  "Hello?" I ventured faintly.

  There was a fuzzy voice tickling my ear. I tried to let it come to me without effort. It was scratchy, but I could make out the words.

  We did not expect to hear from you so soon. The smaller one, we can only hear in her dreams, and she does not know we are there.

  I concentrated on my breathing, slowly in, slowly out. "This is not easy. I am not normally a quiet person, but I wanted to talk to you."

  And we to you. It is obvious that we were mistaken when we thought of you as an animal. You are not one of the hunters. They have never bothered to speak with us.

  "The hunters? Who are the hunters?"

  The humans, ones like you. Before, they would come into the forest sometimes to hunt. Before, we did not bother with the animals at all. They were part of our lives, and we of theirs, but we did not interfere with them. Now there are few, and we need them to help us spread, so that we do not grow too close. In return, when the hunters came again, we drove them away. They rarely come now, and when they do, we take them up, as we did you. But we see now that you are not like them; you speak to us.

  "You said 'before.' Before what?"

  Before the tiny plants came that killed the animals. Many died, but we protected the ones that crawled up into our branches. The tiny plants were too small to see, but we caught them and they could not harm us.

  "Tiny plants? You mean bacteria?"

  We do not know your name for them, but we recognize the picture in your mind. They came from far away, and the animals below died. But we took them to ourselves, and spoke to them, and they did not harm our friends.

  "Are they still here?"

  They died many leaves ago. We knew they could not survive, but we hoped.