A Billion Days of Earth

by Piserchia, Doris

  He gave a shriek that made the walls vibrate. “I’ve lost my mind! I just felt it drop away somewhere. And I’d just as soon not find it, because if and when I do I’m going to break your neck.”

  Without looking at her, he said, “Are you pregnant?”

  “No.”

  The days following the confession weren’t sane days, but he managed to find out whether he had become the laughingstock of the neighborhood. Only two people knew about it besides the virgin and himself. There was Brog, who couldn’t be located because he had suddenly gone off into the wilderness to meditate and feed birds with nectar Luvon dropped from the sky. Then there was Irn, the imbecile. She had prepared the virgin for the sacred rite, but believed she had merely helped Aril get ready to take a bath. Rik’s reputation was spared, not that he gave a damn. The issue was one of those odd abstractions he felt compelled to investigate.

  He thought of things he might do. He could kill Aril. He could kill them both. He could pack his things and move out of the house. He could stay home and torment Aril with his frozen silence.

  He didn’t do anything. He continued to go to work and spent weekends tramping through the deserts and oases beyond Osfar. He wasn’t surly or broody. He wanted a logical solution but knew it didn’t exist. If he killed Aril, he wouldn’t have her any more. Killing Brog would land him in jail. Trying to get even with Aril would be a waste of time because she had completely forgotten the incident.

  They were in the cache—the underground room below the empty lot—and Jak was upset.

  “What did she mean?” he said for the third time. “What the hell did she mean?”

  “Something,” Rik said.

  “Or nothing!”

  “They never say things meaninglessly. They don’t talk to hear the sound of their own voices.”

  “By God, to hear you, you’d think they were omnipotent.”

  “Why are you sore?”

  “I’m curious!”

  “You’re mad as hell. I don’t see why. She gave us some clues we needed.”

  Jak sat down and pinched his eyes shut with the fingers of his metal hand. “She was insulting us.”

  “Why should it bother you? We had to come from something. Lengs are no different than anyone else.”

  Jak took another look at the picture on the table beside him. Encased in transparent material, the small portrait might yield to the cutting edge of a diamond, but to little else. “I’m not a dog,” he said with soft vehemence.

  “You’re a Leng.”

  “I didn’t evolve from a dog!”

  “Vennavora said you did. What’s the difference?”

  The Leng sat rigidly with his eyes on the picture. “They were so stupid.”

  “You know you didn’t evolve from Homo sapiens. If you had a choice, you couldn’t pick anything more dignified than a dog.”

  “Man’s best friend. ‘Lick my hand, pooch; step and fetch it.’ ”

  “A dog was a fine animal,” said Rik.

  “Crap on the rug again, pooch, and it’s off to the pound with you!”

  “He was loyal and intelligent and he was capable of a great deal of love.”

  “He was a leech!”

  “He was taken from the forests and domesticated because he was bright enough to be of use.”

  Jak looked at Rik with eyes that glittered. “Maybe you evolved from a pig. They ate pigs.”

  “Then at least I was useful.”

  “Or maybe a lizard.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Rik.

  “Don’t you want to know?”

  “I want to learn all I can. Why do you think this cache exists? I’ve been gathering stuff for years.”

  Jak hesitated. “It just so happens that I think I know where you came from.” He took another, smaller picture from his pocket. When he looked up, there was a little smile on his face. “This is what you are.”

  Rik took the picture and examined it with interest. “Could be.”

  “It has to be. Remember how Vennavora wouldn’t let you touch her at first? They hate rats.”

  “But there aren’t any.”

  “You know what I mean! They were the worst scavengers in the world, and they caused terrible diseases. They were responsible for plagues that killed millions of people.”

  “Not really. Ticks and fleas did it.” Rik walked to a mirror on one of the rock walls. First he stared into it, and then at the picture. His head was narrow and his dark eyes were too large for his face. Ears long and thin and subtly pointed, nose generous with upturned tip, mouth wide and fine-lipped, jaw small but stubborn—he might have been a caricature of the creature in the picture. But there was no resemblance between them below the chin. Except for the double-jointed wrists and ankles, he was built like a miniature God.

  The thought made him smile. Man always compared himself with perfection. Turning from the mirror, he said, “I think you’re right. That’s me a couple of million years ago.”

  “Christ!”

  “I think I’ve come a long way.”

  “I had an idea you came from something pretty low.”

  “Why do you sound so pleased when you say that?”

  Jak’s glance skittered away and his head lowered. “I’m neither pleased nor displeased. It’s a scientific point.”

  “Why won’t you look at me?”

  “Don’t hunt for motives that don’t exist!”

  “They exist. I just don’t know why or what they are.”

  “You’re a smelly, gobbling, rutting rat!” Sheen sat on a big rock in the middle of a creek in the oasis of Echo Valley. He had the shape of a zomba today. Cross-eyed, he rested on his thick tail.

  “So what?” said Rik. He hadn’t noticed Sheen until the creature spoke.

  The silver zomba leaped onto the bank and licked his ankles. By and by it sat back and grinned and said, “You lack racial pride.”

  “Seeing as how I couldn’t have any before because I didn’t know what I came from, why should it suddenly become important?”

  Indolently, Sheen sprawled in the tall grass by the water. “I’ll tell you a secret: Racial pride is a little extra tint on a pair of rose-colored glasses.”

  “I’m not interested in glasses. I want to see what’s around me. I want to know. And understand, damn it.”

  “You do, which is what makes my task so difficult.” Sheen’s tone lost its grave quality, became brisk. “Why aren’t you fonder of deception? There’s a universe of entertainment to be found in it. I can make you king of all this mortal sphere. Everything will be yours.”

  “I don’t want everything.”

  “You must.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s there.”

  “You’re an idiot,” said Rik, and walked away.

  “There must be something you want!” Sheen yelled after him.

  “Plenty, but too many of them are things I can’t get,” Rik said over his shoulder.

  Sheen bellowed, “There is nothing I can’t get for you!”

  Rik stopped, turned, came back. “Real or pretense?”

  “Real, darling, real! When the shadow fails, try the substance, I always say.”

  “Why should you do anything for me?”

  “It may keep you in my vicinity for a while. I’ll be able to better observe you. Observation, sir, that’s the answer.”

  “Sounds harmless,” said Rik. “You might be able to do a thing or two for me.”

  “Delighted.”

  “How do you and the Gods get along?”

  Sheen shivered. “Man! Pah!”

  “Yeah, I know, they’re too smart for you.”

  “Not so!”

  “Pah!”

  “Well, perhaps they are a bit intellectually fathomless,” said Sheen. “But they tolerate me. Yes, indeed. Curious, that, now that it occurs to me. Hmmm. Why does man put up with Sheen?”

  “You digress,” said Rik.

  “Never. What do you w
ant me to do?”

  “Spy on Tontondely.”

  “Good grief, I thought you’d ask for immortality or omnipotence.”

  “Spy on Tontondely.”

  Sheen licked his chops. “For which task I shall, of course, deserve a reward, the nature of which I must be allowed to decide. The decision has been accomplished with my usual lightning speed and is forthwith declared to be the pleasure of hypnotizing you for fifteen consecutive minutes.”

  “Just a damned minute.”

  Sheen purred, formed long, sharp claws, plucked imaginary vermin from his sleek, silver hide. “Don’t worry, the subconscious is your most stalwart vanguard.”

  “Like hell. I never trust anybody but myself and you’re not going to hypnotize me.”

  “Then the deal is off.”

  “Okay, it’s off,” said Rik. “Go chase yourself.”

  “One moment. I have to have you.”

  “Like I said—go chase yourself.”

  “I love you.”

  “Suffer.”

  “Drat! No hypnosis; analysis only; friendly conversation.”

  “Okay, go do your job and I’ll see you later.”

  In a no-argument tone, Sheen said, “Payment in advance.”

  Rik hesitated. “I would hate very much to be gypped by the crummy likes of you.”

  “My word is utterly worthless, but I’ll do what I promised. Fifteen minutes of conversation, and I’ll shadow that oaf Tontondely for a full day. Take the offer or leave it. Incidentally, you are no good.”

  “I’ll take it,” said Rik.

  “Lie down.”

  “Damn it!”

  “Do it, do it, hurry up and do it.”

  Rik threw himself down on the ground on his back and placed his arms under his head. “Fifteen minutes and not one second longer.” As Sheen moved close to his leg, he shook it and growled, “Get the hell off me.”

  “I might as well. You yield like a nail.” The zomba fluidly changed shape, became a flat-headed snake that waved back and forth.

  Rik’s eyes followed the serpent’s movements. “I’ve had a hard day. That’s very restful.”

  Continuing to sway, Sheen said, “I hope your eyelids aren’t growing heavy.”

  “Bad manners on my part.” Rik gave a huge yawn. “Excuse me.”

  “You’re excused.”

  “When do we start the discussion? Your time runneth on, you know.”

  “It doth, but it’s mine, so be quiet and do as you’re told.”

  Rik yawned again, relaxed more. The ground was soft and his body fitted comfortably into a nice niche. The sun was warm. The flat silver head in front of him swayed gracefully from side to side. He watched it for a while. He reached up to flick a fly off his forehead.

  “Damn,” murmured Sheen.

  Rik yawned. “Did you say something?”

  “Nothing. I’m gathering notes in my head in preparation for a withering blast at your psyche.”

  “You’d better speed it up and quit waving about like that or I’m going to fall asleep.” Rik’s eyes closed, opened, closed, fluttered …

  “Asleep?” said Sheen gently. “On a day like this? Sleep? Sleep? The kind of condition that is preceded by heavy eyelids closing? When one’s throat is so relaxed that swallowing is impossible? Ah, that would be relaxing. To sleep and then to dream.”

  Deeply breathed the man.

  The voice of the serpent dropped to a whisper. “Words, words, who needs a brain for them? They’re meant to stroke the ears. See? Of course not. Hear? Ahhh … listen, my sweet, and you shall hear the leaves, the wind, the sand, the clouds.”

  Softly breathed the man.

  Whispered the serpent: “The leaf how it rustles, the wind how it bustles, the sand how it scurries, the cloud how it hurries, the tares and their sisters, the rocks with their blisters, and oh how man tarries and tarries and tarries, and soon there’ll be nothing, oh really quite nothing, but Sheen, lovely Sheen, precious Sheen, lying Sheen, who must rid all the world of its faltering creatures and clean it and shine it and wrap it in silver; the mistress of all, the most high of the highest, comes up from the pit on the last day of fall.”

  A snore sounded as Sheen’s voice ceased for a moment.

  “Sleep on, Rik, my little one,” came the whisper. “Sleep, and were there a God in heaven, He would blast me in my boots for cutting down the world’s hope.”

  The flat head stilled. “Rik the Second, Rik the Hidden, Rik the Subconscious, come forth to meet Sheen. I wish to beguile you and take the whole man to my bosom.”

  Another snore sounded.

  “I know you’re in there, Rik. Hear how I suffer because you make me wait? Come forth. Do it you must, for I am your master. It was I who opened the exit for you, and exit you shall. It is your nature. Once the enemy conscious is lulled, you reign. Beneath me.”

  The man on the ground snored. He lay as if stoned. His breathing energized the soul in command.

  “Subconscious of Rik, I grow weary calling. Come out, come out, come out.”

  No one heeded the command, no one exited.

  “I must be playing the flute on the wrong octave,” whispered the snake. “Flat notes have always been my Waterloo. Rik, where are you and what do you think you’re doing? I am here. You can’t resist a mind stronger than your own. Stop playing games. Out, out, I say.”

  Nothing emerged from the man on the grass but loud snores.

  The silver head lowered, slumped flat on the ground in exhaustion. “Why? Why?”

  Once again the snake raised in the air. Sheen peered at Rik’s face. “He sleeps. I hypnotized him, sneaky thing that I am, so where is his subconscious?”

  The silver head sagged. “Impossible. A hypnotized man will speak to his mesmerizer. Commands are generally acknowledged, at the least. Rik, I say, Rik!”

  Rik slept on.

  “I have put him in the land of Nod. But he wasn’t supposed to go there. One sleeps the true sleep when he is tired or bored. This is an intelligent man, ergo, he would never allow himself to fall asleep in the presence of wily Sheen, ergo, I bored him into his condition. However, it is impossible for Sheen to bore, ergo, the answer is that Rik Rak has no subconscious. But that is impossible. Ergo …”

  Sheen wailed. “Aieeee!” His serpent-shape altered. A sore-hearted hobo glittering in the sunlight, he shambled away. “Aieeee! Perfect I may be but a paradox is still a paradox!”

  chapter viii

  Water Street sat under a bridge that hadn’t been used for 50 years. Redo gripped his cane and avoided trash on the sidewalk. He was on the hunt for Chik. This would make the fourth such sewer he had visited in as many days.

  A derelict lay in front of a shanty with his mouth open to the sun as he slept away the afternoon. Children ran in the dirt street and kicked a ball that finally landed in a creek. The oldest went after it and came out swearing because the mud on it carried a strong stench.

  Redo stared up at the broken bridge, turned to one of the shacks by the road and met the glance of a respectable-looking woman who sat on a porch swing. She was neat and Clean and so was her shanty. There were flowers growing in the small yard and the child beside her glowed with health. Next door was an outhouse.

  Nodding, Redo walked on. He followed a beaten trail beside the creek, crossed a grassy field and approached a tree stump. Several yards away was a dilapidated shack. A boy of 14 or so sat on the stump with his chin in his hand. He watched the shack and there was an air of infinite patience in his posture.

  “Good afternoon,” said Redo.

  “Hi.”

  “Do you live here?”

  “If you can call it living.”

  “I’m looking for Chik. I believe you know him.”

  The boy responded politely. “How do you know?”

  “Intuition.”

  “The last time I saw him he was with a little silver doll. She had a nice figure.”

  “Silver?”

 
; “That’s right,” said the boy. “She had a nice figure.”

  “You look sick. What’s the matter with you?”

  “I’m not sick, just tired. I’ve been sitting here three days. Pardon the language but my ass has calluses and my gut’s shrunk.”

  “Why don’t you go home?”

  “I can’t. If you take your eye away for an instant, it’s gone.”

  Redo tapped his cane against the stump. “He’s in the shack, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Three days?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re waiting here to pick up his leavings.”

  The boy remained polite. “That is a description of all pleasures.”

  “What did you mean when you said she was silver?”

  “Colored girls are no different from any other kind.”

  “I think you’re going to faint,” said Redo.

  “I won’t.” The boy spoke again as Redo walked toward the shack. “He’ll have a gun or a knife.”

  “I’ll break his head if I see either one.” Kicking the door open, Redo held his nose and went in. Chik stood in a corner with a grin on his face. There was no girl, silver or otherwise. The only silver thing in the shack was Chik, from head to toe, standing like a statue and grinning.

  Redo returned to the shattered door. “You may as well scram. She’s gone.”

  The boy stood up. “No one left that shack.”

  “Maybe she crawled out the back.”

  “She wasn’t a snake.”

  “Come and see for yourself.”

  “Jesus Christ, look at him!” were the boy’s awed words.

  “Yes.”

  “What did that to him? Is he dead?”

  Redo tapped his cane on the floor. “He’s breathing. He sees nothing, he won’t talk, he doesn’t know we’re here, but he’s taking in air. Personally, I think he’s dead.”

  “Jesus Christ,” said the boy.

  Elu said the same thing when Redo called him on the phone. A car was sent and Chik’s brothers wrapped him in a blanket and took him to Redo’s office where their father waited.