Land of Nod, The Artifact

by Gary Hoover

  “Now you have to imagine home-plate here,” he traced an outline of home-plate on the floor with the bat. “Because that defines the strike zone. The strike zone is an imaginary window that’s as wide as the plate and between the batter’s shoulder and knees.” He waved his hand back and forth and up and down to show the approximate location of the strike zone. “There’s an umpire behind the catcher to call balls and strikes.

  “So the pitcher throws the ball,” Jeff put the bat on his shoulder and pointed to an imaginary pitcher. “And if the batter doesn’t swing, it’s either a ball or strike depending on if it’s in or out of the strike zone. Three strikes and the batter is ‘out’, four balls is a ‘walk’, and the batter gets to go to first base. Three outs, and the offensive team goes back on defense. One ‘inning’ is a set in which both teams have played offense and defense. Nine innings make up the whole game . . . unless the ninth inning ends in a tie, and then it goes into extra innings . . . oh, and if the home team is leading after 8 ½ innings, they don’t play the last half of the 9th inning.

  “Now if the batter does swing, and misses the ball,” Jeff swung his bat to illustrate. “It’s a strike even if it’s out of the strike zone. If the ball goes ‘foul’ - outside the foul lines,” Jeff gestured in the direction of imaginary foul lines. “It counts as a strike . . . unless there are already two strikes, because the at-bat can’t end on a foul . . . unless a player catches it . . .”

  Artimus was starting to laugh, and once he started, Nahima and Baldwin joined in and the three of them were laughing uncontrollably. It was contagious and Jeff found himself laughing too.

  “Okay,” Artimus said. “If you can make all that up, you deserve anything you can con out of me.” He put his hand on Jeff’s shoulder.

  And then things got weird.

  Artimus put his arms around Jeff and pulled him in for a long hug.

  Jeff wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hug back, so his arms moved up and down trying to decide where to go.

  “I hope we can find your father.”

  And Jeff thought it almost looked like Artimus was going to cry.

  Chapter 22:

  Jeff stared at the ceiling. He laughed to himself at Baldwin’s snoring.

  Artimus wanted Jeff to come to the Governing Council the next day. He told Jeff there were important things going on and - for some reason - Artimus thought Jeff might be able to help. He told Jeff he’d tell him more tomorrow, but he thought it might - indirectly - help Jeff find his father.

  The whole idea that Artimus seemed to want something from him but wouldn’t tell him much about what it was – though it clearly seemed important to him - had Jeff very uptight.

  There were other things weighing on his mind as well.

  As usual, he didn’t want the nightmares. There was something about that creature that affected him emotionally far more than was rational.

  It struck a chord of primal fear within Jeff.

  And in addition to those concerns, he had realized this was the second night he wouldn’t be home. Jeff was energized by the thought that his father might be alive and somewhere relatively nearby - though Jeff tried to avoid being irrationally optimistic. The hope made him feel . . . alive . . . in a way that he hadn’t felt since his father had disappeared. That optimism combined with the sheer wonder of this unique, fresh place had ended the bored depression Jeff had been stuck in two days ago.

  . . . But what about my mother? She has to be worried sick, and now she is . . .

  . . . Alone.

  The emotion nearly overwhelmed Jeff as he lay there in the dark. He felt his throat tightening as he pictured his mom sitting alone in their big, cold house.

  Could she have figured out what happened? Jeff leaned over and opened a drawer in a nightstand by his bed. His father’s keys were in the pocket of the Jeans he had worn yesterday. He pulled the keys out and looked at them.

  They were the only clue. He had locked the office door and turned off the light, so the only thing out of place would be the missing keys. He wondered if his mother could figure it out from that.

  No.

  How could she?

  It was just a missing set of keys. What would tie them to the office? If anything, she’d assume he had run away and taken the keys as a symbol of his father.

  And it’s probably best if she doesn’t figure it out, Jeff rationalized. If she figured it out, she probably wouldn’t just enter the portal . . . she’d tell someone.

  And once other people knew about the portal, what would/will happen? Will they send soldiers in? Will it be the start of an inter-dimensional war?

  Jeff tried not to think about it. Think happy thoughts, he told himself.

  He imagined meeting up with his father again . . . but that just seemed . . . impossible.

  As much as he rationalized and hoped his father might be here, the idea of actually finding him just didn’t seem like a realistic possibility.

  If he came down at the same place I did, he might have run into one of those snakes . . .

  There I go again.

  Jeff exhaled loudly. He needed to clear his mind . . . needed to relax and stop over-thinking everything.

  Needed to get some sleep . . .

  . . . But then will I dream about the pheerion?

  Jeff twisted the pillow around his head and squeezed. “Aaaaarrrrgh”

  His brain went around in those circles until it finally just wore itself out.

  He could see a figure in the distance . . .

  It was moving toward him, it had an unusual gate.

  As it got closer, he began to recognize a shape.

  It looked like a rabbit . . .

  . . . But not a normal rabbit, more like a human sized rabbit hopping upright. Like the Easter Bunny.

  But it wasn’t a man wearing an Easter Bunny suit. The huge hind legs had mass and sinew, like a real Easter Bunny . . . not a costume.

  As it got closer, he saw that it had a man’s face . . .

  . . . But not just any man.

  . . . It looked like Richard Nixon.

  Nixon turned toward him and said: “What are you looking at . . . freak.”

  Chapter 23:

  Jeff’s eyes ran across the rough, scaly skin. He tried to avoid looking directly into the red, piercing eyes . . . but he knew he couldn’t avoid it.

  His eyes were always drawn to the red eyes, and when he met them, he knew he would recognize the pure evil behind them.

  An evil that would chill his soul.

  His eyes locked onto the red eyes, and everything else in his peripheral vision distorted and faded.

  All he could see now were eyes and flashing teeth as the creature spoke in its harsh, wheezing, croaking voice.

  But as it spoke - in the same unrecognizable language Jeff had heard the night before - Jeff could understand what it was saying. He still heard the foreign words, and he didn’t really understand or recognize them, but it was almost as if a voice in the back of his head translated as the creature spoke: “You can’t stop me, boy . . .”

  Jeff’s eyes flashed open, and he was back in Baldwin’s room. Baldwin’s snoring was comforting, albeit window rattling.

  Jeff looked the clock: 1:82

  Jeff had learned that they were indeed on a ten hour day as he had guessed, and that would make it somewhere between the equivalent of 4 and 5 am. Jeff didn’t feel up to doing the rest of the math.

  Well, I guess it’s late enough I can just get up.

  He picked up the ‘dress clothes’ that Baldwin and Artimus had given him the night before for his big day and, as quietly as possible, went to the bathroom to shower.

  When he had finished his shower, he got to use one of the niftier gadgets Baldwin had shown him. There was a small, metal plate built into the shower stall wall, and after Jeff turned off the water, he touched the panel with an index finger.

  The stall was washed with a soft, warm light, and, over a period of about 5 seconds, a
ll the water droplets on Jeff’s body and also the shower surfaces vanished. His hair was still somewhat wet, but drier than it normally would have been coming right out of the shower. He stepped out of the stall, grabbed the shirt and pants and pulled them on.

  They didn’t seem much different than the casual, comfortable clothes that he had worn yesterday. They did seem similar to what Artimus had been wearing when he returned from work, but Jeff wasn’t really sure what made them ‘dress’.

  Jeff made his way to the kitchen and was a little surprised to find Artimus already there and dressed.

  “Good morning,” Artimus said brightly and rose from his seat. “Can I get you anything to eat?”

  “Sure, thanks. Anything is fine. Don’t go to any trouble.”

  While Jeff generally found the food absolutely delicious, he found the breakfast foods bland and uninspiring. They didn’t seem to offer nearly as much fat or sugar as he typically had for breakfast.

  “Now first off,” Artimus said. “I should tell you, don’t be nervous. I don’t expect you to really do anything today. I just want you to listen and learn. If, after getting a feel for what’s going on, you have any thoughts or comments, please share anything that comes to mind.”

  Jeff nodded.

  Artimus put a plate in front of Jeff with a yellowish square of some sort of dry, crumbly food and placed a glass of juice beside that. Artimus took a plate and glass for himself and sat down. He had a bite and then continued.

  “I think Baldwin told you a little bit about our history.”

  Jeff nodded again and took a bite from his breakfast. It had the consistency of cornbread, but an unusual taste that Jeff couldn’t identify. It wasn’t bad . . . but nothing special either.

  “As, I think you know, our ancestors came from Doclotnury originally, and we lived under their authority up until about 25 years ago. At that time, we fought a war for the right to govern ourselves.”

  Artimus exhaled loudly and took a sip of fruit juice. It seemed that he was uncomfortable about what he was about to say. “Since that war, people here have not gotten past their hostility and distrust with Doclotnury.”

  He paused again and took a bite of food. Jeff sensed that Artimus felt his words were important, and he wanted to make sure that he expressed himself clearly.

  “I feel . . . very strongly . . . that we need to re-establish ties with our Doclotnuryian brothers. Humans are the most technologically advanced species on this planet, but we don‘t have a large population, and we are very limited in terms of where we can live, what resources we can access, etc. I don’t think it’s right . . . or smart, to remain estranged from the only other humans on the planet.”

  “If your war was only 25 years ago, and prior to that you were governed by them, you must still have friends, relatives and other close ties with Doclotnury.” Jeff commented.

  Artimus nodded. “Yes . . . yes, we do. But 25 years also is not a lot of time to heal from some deep wounds of a violent, bloody war.” He glanced down at his forearm, and Jeff’s eyes went there too. There was a large scar that Jeff had noticed earlier but had not asked about. Artimus pulled his sleeve over it before taking another bite of food.

  “There are a lot of . . . VERY . . . conflicted emotions regarding all this.

  “Now this might seem like I’m going off on a tangent, but I’ll try to explain why I think it all ties together in a minute. We’ve been having a terrible drought recently. You may have noticed the arid area between the forest and Caesurmia.”

  Jeff nodded.

  “That area used to be lush with streams and vegetation, but it’s been drying up recently. We still manage, but resources are becoming more scarce and it’s getting harder to live the comfortable lives to which we’ve become accustomed.”

  He paused again to have a few bites and sip some juice. Jeff also took the opportunity to have some of his own.

  “Now the reason I mentioned it and feel it’s related to some of the other problems we’re having is: Those limited resources are causing stress. If we had everything we wanted, I think people would be more willing to make efforts to improve our relationship with Doclotnury. While it doesn’t make any logical sense, some people try to point to Doclotnury as some sort of explanation for why we’re having problems. It’s easier to blame and distrust them than it is to face the fact that we’re having problems that are beyond anybody’s control.”

  Artimus had finished his breakfast and he pushed the plate aside. “Are you following me so far?”

  Jeff nodded. It seemed that Artimus had a very clear, direct way of communicating, and Jeff had no problem following him.

  “Now, with that background out of the way, we can get to the real problem. You’ve heard of the pheerions?”

  Jeff’s stomach tensed as he thought of the creature in his dreams. He nodded slowly.

  “The pheerions have been threatening war with Doclotnury. There’s a general - General Rasp - who has an armada of ships that appear to be headed for war with Doclotnury. The pheerions don’t have the technology we have, but they’re fierce and they have large numbers.

  “We HAVE to help the Doclotnuryians, or, I fear, they’ll be over-run. I have been arguing for weeks that we need to help, but, I’m afraid, I’m still in the minority.”

  Jeff thought about the creature from his dreams, and the thought of fighting an army of them seemed terrifying. “Why won’t they help? Once the pheerions defeat Doclotnury, will they stop? Isn’t there a chance they’ll come here?”

  “I’m glad you get it, though I guess I should have assumed you would. Those are my thoughts exactly. I don’t know if we even have a choice. We MUST fight the pheerions now, before they get a foothold on this continent.”

  “But . . . can’t people understand that? Is it really that they don’t like the Doclotnuryians, or is it something else? Are they afraid?”

  “I think you have it now. We’ve become very . . . comfortable . . . here. We have a safe, orderly society. I think that’s a big reason people don’t want to get involved . . . fear . . . but it’s easier to say: ‘I don’t want to help because I don’t care about those bastards’ than it is to say: ‘I don’t want to help because I’m afraid.’

  “. . . And when they’re not admitting their real motivations for their actions, it’s hard to reason with them.”

  Jeff found himself getting almost . . . angry now. “But they’ve got to understand, they’ve got to make a stand, this is too important. . .”

  Artimus smiled again. “We can’t really fault people, too much, for being weak, short-sighted and selfish. Those characteristics don’t make them terrible . . . those characteristics just make them . . . people.

  “. . . But that doesn’t mean we can’t strive for something better.”

  Chapter 24:

  Jeff admired the sleek lines of Artimus’ car before they got in. He caught a slight smile from Artimus and guessed that Artimus took some pride in his car. It was very different from the one Nahima had been driving - larger, more muscular and much more elaborately styled.

  The materials and build quality of Artimus’ car were clearly much higher than the one Nahima had been driving. The differences seemed similar to those of a $70,000 sport sedan back home compared to a $15,000 econo-box.

  As they approached, the two front doors opened.

  Hmmmm, did Artimus push something or are there some sort of sensors. Jeff was curious, but didn’t actually ask. He had felt very foolish since arriving and he was doing his best to casually deal with each new thing he saw. He felt very self-conscious and out of place, but was doing his best to blend . . . What’s that? A two-headed, web-footed purple giraffe with a seven-foot long, two-pronged penis *Yawn* whatever.

  Jeff climbed in and sank into the perfectly formed seat. Again, he thought he caught a smile from Artimus. It was more comfortable than the couch that had so impressed Jeff two days before.

  Artimus hit a button on the dashboard and the cra
ft came to life. Lights from instrument panels illuminated Artimus’ face as he quickly and absentmindedly began working controls. The roof of the vehicle slid back and the side windows dropped into the doors leaving the cockpit open.

  The garage door behind them opened and the car lifted gently. Jeff squinted uncomfortably. His eyes slowly adjusted to the bright morning sunshine as they backed out of the garage. The moment the front end had cleared the doorway, Artimus twisted the yoke and they did a quick, perfect 180. Artimus tilted the nose upward, pulled a lever and they accelerated forcefully at about a 45 degree angle with the horizon.

  They continued to accelerate and Artimus continued to twist the nose up until they were climbing . . . vertically. Artimus yanked back the accelerator and Jeff felt his seat depress several inches as they rocketed straight up at an amazing rate. Jeff had to struggle to pull air into his lungs and he tried to move his arms but couldn’t. He snuck a glance at Artimus and saw he had a huge grin.

  He’s showing off.

  After about 10 seconds they slowed and Artimus leveled the vehicle and brought it to a near complete stop. From there, Jeff could see the city spread out below them.

  “Technically speaking, this isn’t completely legal . . . but I know some people.” Artimus looked at Jeff and winked with the grin still plastered to his face.

  If Jeff had known, a few minutes prior, that they were going to climb to that dizzying height in the open vehicle, he would have been nervous and reluctant, but it happened so fast he didn’t have time to be scared. And now, the view was so spectacular and the feeling of floating there so peaceful that he just soaked it in.

  After a minute or two of just hanging there, Artimus pointed the nose down and began to descend at a much more leisurely pace than he had used to climb.

  As they picked up a little speed, he did some barrel rolls and, again, Jeff didn’t really have time to be scared until he was already into it. They descended for a few minutes until they were within a few hundred feet of what appeared to be a random mess of flying cars weaving in and out of streams of traffic.