Interstellar Pig

by William Sleator

  "Did you ever think about travel, Barney?" he said, thick muscles moving on his bare chest and arms as he dried his hair.

  "Mom and Dad said that maybe I could go to Europe the summer after I graduate," I told him, sitting down on his stripped bed.

  He tossed the towel aside. "Europe!" The way he said it, it sounded as exciting as the next suburb. He looked down at me and chuckled, his hands on his hips. It occurred to me that Mom and Dad, even together, would be no match for him. "Europe? I'm thinking about Andromeda, Barney. About Sirius, about Betelgeuse. They all have planets, amazing planets, believe me." He pulled a white cotton sweater out of a drawer and slipped it over his head as he talked. "I know it sounds impossible, but no more so than what the others offered you, right?"

  I started to agree, then clamped my mouth shut.

  "Good boy, Barney, don't expose them." He laughed nervously. "Well, whatever they may have claimed, it can't beat what I've got." He leaned against the doorway and folded his arms across his chest. "Hyperspace," he said. "Anywhere in the universe in an instant."

  The whole thing was crazy. First they wouldn't tell me anything. Now they were all telling me things I couldn't believe. And I still wasn't getting any of the answers that mattered. "Just like in the game, right?" I asked him. "Does that mean the game is real?"

  "Access to hyperspace is real," he said, quite seriously. "But it's going to be centuries before anybody on this planet stumbles into it. Unless you give me The Piggy."

  "Prove it," I said.

  He laughed again. "Good for you, Barney," he said. "Tonight's going to be very interesting."

  "What do you—"

  But he didn't give me a chance to ask him what he meant. "No, I can't prove anything now. I just thought I'd place an offer in advance, like the others did. And I'm not one for a lot of words, and there's no time now anyway. But the offer holds. Remember that, when the time comes. Now I want a quick drink, before we eat."

  I didn't realize I was ravenous until Zena, Joe, and I sat down—I hadn't touched any of the food Mom had left me. This meal, even on the oddly assorted chipped plates, looked as luscious as the glossiest cookbook cover. Manny appeared last, flourishing a stained kitchen towel and a bottle of champagne.

  "It should be a noble Piper Heidsieck, but I'm afraid it's only an inane little Californian. You open it, Joe. These corks make me nervous."

  Joe was as dextrous with the champagne bottle as he was with all physical things. I tried not to think about Mom and Dad as the cork exploded across the room and the wine spurted like pale blood from a sliced jugular. "I propose a toast," Zena said, raising her glass. I lifted mine as the others did.

  "To Barney," Zena said. They all watched me.

  "Why me?" I said, self-conscious.

  "To give you fortune in tonight's game, Barney dear," Zena said, with her sweetest and most girlish smile.

  "Hear hear!" said Manny and Joe.

  They were making a very pretty ceremony of cheering me on, but I wasn't cheered. What would the game be like tonight, in the context of their outrageous offers, and my knowledge of the real thing hidden in the bookcase?

  The distinction between what was real and what wasn't had become disturbingly elusive. I couldn't stop wondering about Mom and Dad. And I remembered hearing somewhere that it was not good luck to drink a toast to oneself.

  "Bottoms up!" Zena cried gaily.

  "To Barney!" they all repeated in unison.

  I put the wine to my lips, but I didn't touch a drop until the others had drained their glasses. And I made my own silent toast.

  To The Piggy! I thought fervently, and drank.

  Then the lights went out.

  13

  Darkness was necessary to their plan.

  There was no moonlight coming through the windows. I could see nothing but a dull glow from the fireplace. The sound of the rain was as brittle and percussive as if marbles were being hurled onto the cottage's tin roof.

  Joe found the flashlight almost at once, and soon after that a large box of candles. In minutes, the table was lit romantically, and we were all digging in as if nothing had happened. None of them seemed flustered. I thought of Manny's casual and accurate prediction about the phone going dead.

  The champagne, however inane Manny considered it, tasted fine to my inexperienced palate. I had several glasses, unwisely perhaps, but it did increase my confidence. As the meal progressed, 1 felt more included and equal than even in the neighbors' banter.

  "I'm sorry about the beans," Manny said. "They wouldn't be so overcooked if Barney hadn't distracted me."

  "I think the beans are delicious," I said, since Manny seemed to be fishing for a compliment. "Everything is wonderful." I knew it was also not poisoned. They had let me serve myself first, and I had waited for them to take their bites before tasting mine.

  "Amazing, how perceptive he turned out to be," Manny said.

  "He does have a way about him," Zena agreed.

  "Full of surprises," Joe mumbled, his mouth full of unpeeled new potato.

  "What did you expect me to be, some dope who wouldn't wonder about you at all?" I asked them.

  "Well, we weren't planning on certain unforeseen developments," Zena said.

  "You should have been more careful then," I told her. I felt funny to be instructing them. "I mean, anybody could have seen that you were looking for something. And then you let me play the game, and I just put two and two together. You must have a pretty low opinion of people, if you didn't think anybody was going to get curious."

  "Ted didn't," Zena pointed out.

  "Your parents didn't," said Joe.

  "For some reason, your act worked better on them than it did on me," I said.

  "Act?" Zena said, in that humorous sarcastic way of hers. "Barney, you're hurting my feelings." She giggled.

  "Well, whatever it was that gave Dad the nutty idea you were concerned about poverty—your disguise attribute card, or whatever you want to call it," I said, a little surprised at my own boldness. "The one that made everybody see you the way you wanted them to—except me."

  "Maybe it's his age," Manny speculated, watching me over his glass. "He is the first teenager we've dealt with. Maybe they're harder to put things over on than—"

  "What became of that pie you were talking about, Manny?" Joe interrupted him, standing up.

  "Oh, that's right, the pie." The men carried plates into the dark kitchen.

  "How do you know you didn't see us the way we wanted you to, Barney?" Zena asked me, staring into the candle, her hair drifting into shadow. "You still know hardly anything about us. You may be in for some surprises." Her profile hung disembodied and masklike beside the flame. "Not necessarily pleasant ones," she said softly, and turned to me. "But with the intelligence booster, at least you'd be better prepared. Safer. All you need to do is tell Zena where the little Piggy is," she coaxed me, as though she were talking to a baby or a pet. "And you can have the intelligence booster, and other gifts too. Zena knows how to express her gratitude." And she actually reached over and tickled me under the chin.

  But I wasn't insulted. The wine made me feel in control. "We'll see," I said slowly, imitating her persuasive tones. "I'll think about it—if you're nice enough, if you tell me what The Piggy really does. . . ."

  "But Barney, you've played the game," she said. Was there an edge of desperation in her voice? Did I have that much power? "Here they come! Tell me now!"

  "I just hope it's had enough time to chill," Manny said, hurrying in and plunking a meringue-covered pie on the table. Manny cut the pie quickly and passed slices around. He didn't seem to have selected a special one for me. But I let the others taste it first.

  It had a biting, acid flavor, not as sweet as the desserts I was used to. It cleared my head a bit— enough to remind me that however powerful I felt, I still had too many questions and hardly any answers at all. Why wouldn't they tell me what The Piggy was, and above all what it did? Was it real
ly more valuable than all the incredible things they were offering me?

  Then another thought struck me: Time. They tried to appear casual, but their search had not been leisurely at all. They had wasted no time since the moment of their arrival, making their moves as quickly as was possible without attracting attention. And Mom and Dad being gone, and the phone and electricity cut off—that had happened very quickly too, once they had suspected that I had The Piggy. It all seemed very natural. Yet no sooner had I hidden it, than I found myself in an extremely vulnerable position.

  Did a real Piggy mean that there was a real timer as well? A real timer that was running out?

  "I just had the most marveJous idea!" Zena cried.

  "You really don't think it was too sweet?" Manny said, tasting another dab of pie with his finger.

  "What's your idea?" said Joe.

  "Why don't we play tonight's game at Barney's house?" Zena looked around at the others. "For a change of ambiance. Since his parents aren't there. It's so dreary here."

  "But they might come home and interrupt it in the middle," I said. I didn't like her idea.

  "They won't go out on the road in this rain," Joe said. "If they come back at all, it won't be for hours."

  "But wouldn't the board get wet, carrying it over there?" I said. I didn't want them in our house, so close to The Piggy.

  "Not in a plastic bag," Zena said.

  "And then we wouldn't have to clear the table," Manny said. "We could start playing right away, this minute."

  "But. . . but we don't have all the refreshments that you do," I argued.

  "What's the matter, Barney? Don't like to think of us getting near your precious Piggy?" Zena taunted me.

  "I'd think you'd want to be over at your house," Joe said. "They might be repairing the phone lines right now. Your parents might call."

  I gave up. We stumbled over in the noisy wet darkness, following Joe with the flashlight. The old house was more of a sound than a shape, the front door banging, the windows rattling in the wind. I scraped my shins on the porch steps, behind the others. The nearer they got to The Piggy, the more uncomfortable I became. I no longer felt that I had taken it from them unfairly. It was mine now. I didn't want their hands on it. I didn't want them anywhere near it.

  I could understand the way the captain's brother had felt about it, clinging to it even as he was pushed from the ship and dragged from the water. How had it gotten to the island, anyway? Had the captain decided that his brother's obsession with it was unhealthy, and taken it from him? I thought of the brother, locked in my room, watching the captain row with it out to the boulder. Was it only brain damage that had caused him to claw the walls all those years, carving the lines that pointed to the boulder? Or had the thing on the island called him?

  In the hot stuffy darkness of the living room we stood grouped together as Joe flashed his pale beam around the walls. I did my best not to look at the bookcase. "The dining room table would be the best place," I said.

  We lit the first candle and stuck it, with melted wax, into an ashtray shaped like the state of Florida. In the flickering dimness we set up the game. No one spoke. It was a ritual.

  Again, Manny drew Moyna. Then Zena drew Zulma, which seemed an amazing coincidence. When Joe drew Jrlb, I began to be a little alarmed.

  "Isn't this weird," I said. "You all drew the same ones as before."

  They watched me. There were four candles now, one for each of us. The light from below made their cheekbones stand out and their eyes sink back into shadow, so that I could not read their expressions.

  I drew my card. "Well at least I didn't get Luap again," I said.

  Then it was as though a hand seized my throat. On the card was a drawing of me, in highly realistic detail, like an illustration from an anatomy book.

  Homo Sapiens were the words underneath.

  "Wait a minute," I managed to say, my mouth suddenly dry. "I never saw . . . This card wasn't in the game before!"

  “Look at the board, Barney," Zena said.

  "But how come I never . . ."

  "Look at it, Barney."

  The board was easy to see in the light from the four candles. It had changed. There was a new planet, blue and green and wreathed with clouds. A planet named Earth.

  It seemed impossible. Yet I could not deny what I saw on the board, or on the card in my hand. And would the new character and planet have magically appeared in the rule book too? I looked around at the silent others, my heart thudding in my ears. It was like the nightmare of finding the real Piggy, only now there would be no Mom at the door to wake me out of it.

  "Welcome to the game, Barney," the others said.

  14

  But . . . but how, why did you-do this?" I finally managed to say.

  "Don't blame us, Barney," Zena said, shuffling cards. "We tried to keep you out of it. We tried to make you yield The Piggy before it was too late. But no; Barney's too dense to take the hint, too stubborn, too curious. He has to know what it's all about. He has to hold The Piggy, and make it a secret, and hide it from us. And once you go that far, that's all it takes. Bang! The Piggy drags another little species into the game."

  "Not one that will be much of a threat to any of us," Joe said coolly.

  "But it means more inferior players cluttering up the board," Zena said. "And it's so frustrating to know how long The Piggy sat here in real time without making any mischief. And then, just as I'm about to get my hands on it, this little simpleton has to stumble along and interfere. Sapiens, they call themselves." She made a derisive grunt.

  Describe emotional response to spurious insults, recited a little mechanical voice inside my head.

  I almost jumped out of my seat. I looked behind me, but there was no one. The others hadn't seemed to notice anything. Was I going nuts? Maybe the tension was pushing me over the edge. And yet, the impossible voice made a certain sense. Their insults were spurious. Inferior player? Not much of a threat? "I found The Piggy first, didn't I?" I said. "Isn't that what counts?"

  "Just look yourself up in the rule book, if you want to know what we mean by inferior, Barney," Zena said drily. "But be hasty about it."

  I found the entry. I wasn't familiar enough with the book to be certain it had not been there before. But wouldn't I have noticed it?

  Genus &· Species: Homo sapiens Common Name: Man Persona] Name: Barney Sex: Male Intelligence: IRSC 93.7

  Habitat: North temperate zone of the planet Earth

  "93.7!" I yelled. "That's ridiculous!"

  "Certainly is," Manny chortled.

  "But it can't be that bad!" I insisted.

  "That's what we're moaning about, Barney," Zena said wearily. "It's just going to drag the game down to have more underdeveloped species like yours. Moyna's bad enough as it is."

  "Now wait a minute," Manny said.

  "But the game is real?" I said. "You really do hop around to different planets, looking for The Piggy?"

  "You haven't deduced that yet?" Zena said, adding, to the others, "And he's shocked by his IRSC.”

  I refused to be baited. "Then what's this?" I asked, gesturing at the board. "And if you didn't want me in the real game, why did you ask me to play this one?"

  "This is a . . . kind of simulacrum," she said, as if she weren't really sure herself. "And we asked you to play because usually it works as an effective prod. A way of letting a species know the kind of danger he'll be falling into if he doesn't give us The Piggy—but without informing him directly. It was also the best way I could think of to get you so badly burned that you wouldn't be able to interfere with our island expedition."

  "Only in Barney's case, neither strategy worked," Joe said.

  I felt a kind of horrified awe, that she would plot deliberately to put me through so much pain. "Burns . . . burns can be really dangerous," I said stupidly.

  "But nothing compared to what you're in for now," she said.

  "She was trying to protect you, to keep you out; t
hat was what it really amounted to," Manny explained. "Only your ERSC was too pitiful."

  "Come, Barney, choose," Joe said. "We can't sit here explaining things all night. Are you prepared to take your equipment?" He had his hand on a pile of cards.

  "But aren't you supposed to deal the attribute cards?"

  Zena sighed. "This is real now, remember? So it's different from the prototype game. We already possess equipment. We brought it with us. The others did too. Now you may choose from what's available. And you only have as long as the timer allows."

  "But I thought the timer was supposed to time the whole game."

  "Not anymore. The Piggy will end the real game."

  Joe pushed the cards at me and hit the timer. The black began moving swiftly across it.

  I didn't understand much; 1 had more questions than ever now. Was I really supposed to accept the impossible reality of it? Would I be going to other planets? Involved in direct combat? What did she mean by "the others"? Wasn't anyone going to spell it out for me?

  Apparently not. What I did know was that the right equipment was vital.

  Stifling my questions, I pored over the cards. My hands shook; the complex, supertechnological machinery blurred before my eyes. With my abysmal IRSC, I probably had no hope of making the right choices. And the others knew it. Zena drummed her fingernails on the tabletop, as though even giving me the chance to choose was a pointless delay.

  I'm not as stupid as they think. They'll never find me here. Not as stupid as they think, came the dull, droning voice in my head again.

  Again I jumped and looked around and could see nothing. I didn't feel crazy, so where was the voice coming from? It made me think of Luap's slug—only I wasn't Luap, and I didn't have a slug. If this kept happening, I was going to have to figure out what it meant, and fast.

  Meanwhile, what it said seemed again to be true. I couldn't be as stupid as they wanted me to feel. My resolve stiffened. The cards came into focus.