Paraworld Zero

by Matthew Peterson

  “You better get ready for school,” Thornapple warned. “If you’re late one more time for Mrs. Larz’s class, she’ll have your hide for sure.”

  If Simon loathed going to school on Earth, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. Mrs. Larz was a plump lady about three-and-a-half feet tall. She had long tangled hair and a demeanor that made cockroaches look good. The only thing that made the class half bearable for Simon was that Tonya had to suffer through it with him.

  When Simon and Tonya got to the school that morning, they waved goodbye to Thornapple as he entered a classroom full of other students his age. Simon and Tonya were deemed intellectually challenged by the school examiners, but because the Puds held strong beliefs that everyone should go to school (that is, if you weren’t a big Pud), the two children were allowed to sit in with the kindergartners.

  They sat at their tiny desks just as the school bell rang. Mrs. Larz waddled to her chair and plopped down. She brought out what looked like a red crayon and started drawing on her desk. Each mark appeared magnified in the air at the front of the classroom.

  “How do you find the volume of a square pyramid?” Mrs. Larz asked. She drew a pyramid on her desk.

  Everyone in the room raised their hands—except for Simon and Tonya.

  “Ralfus,” she said, calling on one of the students in the front.

  Ralfus stood up and recited the formula from memory. “The volume of a square pyramid equals the altitude times the area of the base, divided by three.”

  “Very good, Ralfus. I see that most of you have done your homework.” She glared at Simon and Tonya distastefully. “Now here’s a trick question: We haven’t looked at other types of pyramids yet, but who can tell me what formula I’d use to find the volume of a hexagonal pyramid?”

  She drew a pyramid with a six-sided base and pushed a button for it to automatically rotate in the air. The children wrote frantically on their desks to come up with the answer.

  Simon turned to Tonya and said under his breath, “When I was as young as these kids, I think I was still learning the alphabet. This is ridiculous.”

  Tonya smiled and tried to choke back a laugh.

  “Simon,” Mrs. Larz said, overhearing his comment, “do you have the answer for us?”

  Simon’s heart sank. Mrs. Larz seemed to always call on him, even though he never had the correct answer. This time being no exception, he stuttered, “Wh-Wh-What Ralfus said.”

  The four- and five-year-olds laughed, but Mrs. Larz silenced them with her raised hand. “That,” she said calmly, “is correct.” Her words shocked the entire class, including Simon. “The volume of any pyramid can be found using the same formula.”

  Tonya looked at Simon with newfound respect, but all he could do in response was shrug his shoulders and smile.

  “All right, class,” the teacher said, erasing the marks on her desk with her sleeve, “I think that’s all the math for today. I just wanted to make sure you understood yesterday’s lesson. Today, I would like to discuss an important subject that I’m sure you’ve all heard about: the Battle of Lisardious. I have with me a copy of an ancient record written by our ancestors a thousand years ago.”

  She brought out a thin slate with a computer screen attached to it.

  “After long, strenuous research, our scientists have been able to translate the history of this great battle. The top line shows the ancient text, and the bottom line shows the translation. Let’s read the translation, shall we? Please read a paragraph and then pass it along.”

  Mrs. Larz walked to the back of the class and handed the slate to a tiny girl wearing pigtails. The child began to read. “Only a few of our kind have survived the great Battle of Lisardious. We have been driven into the darkness of the volcano in hopes that our enemy will not follow.”

  The girl with pigtails passed the slate to a boy next to her, and the boy continued the history. “The larger Puds are a hindrance to our progression. We have started to fight amongst ourselves.”

  The boy passed the slate to Tonya. Rosy streaks appeared in her hair as she stammered over the words. “Uh, we are jogging—no—running out of food. Um, let’s see. I-do-not-see-how-we-can…” Tonya couldn’t remember how to say the last word. “I don’t see how we can…”

  “Survive!” Mrs. Larz filled in the rest of the sentence for her.

  Bowing her head, Tonya handed the slate to Simon. He looked down at the Pudo language and, as usual, the strange characters morphed into English before his eyes. Simon assumed that being able to read Pudo was just part of his unique gift.

  “Millions of these monstrous creatures are emerging from the sea every hour. Our crops have been consumed, and everything we have labored to build has been destroyed in less than a day. Could this be the same apocalypse our ancestors faced a thousand years ago? We have concluded that it—”

  “Simon, what are you reading?” Mrs. Larz asked, trotting over to his desk. “That’s not how it goes.” She looked at the computer screen. “Show me where you are.”

  Simon pointed to where he was reading. Mrs. Larz snatched the slate from him and exclaimed, “You’re not even reading from the correct line! Didn’t I say the translation was beneath the actual text? Simon, you need to listen better.”

  “But all you said was to read a paragraph and pass it along.”

  “Don’t get smart with me, young man. It took our best scholars years to decipher this ancient language. Class, this is what the actual translation reads: ‘The aliens are increasing in numbers, and they ride upon the seas. The aliens are stealing our food and are trying to take possession of our cities. It will take us many years to rebuild what has been destroyed.’”

  Mrs. Larz handed the slate to the next student. Simon stayed quiet for the rest of the class. Afterwards, he and Tonya met up with Thorn in the hallway.

  “You should have seen the look on Mrs. Larz’s face,” Tonya said, laughing. “She was so furious. That was quick thinking, Simon. I don’t think I could have made all that up so fast.”

  “But I wasn’t making it up,” Simon said.

  “Of course you were. You can’t read ancient Pu—” She stopped herself, suddenly recalling how Simon had miraculously learned the Pudo language just after waking up from his coma. “You weren’t making it up?”

  “No.”

  Thorn chimed in, “Wow! Do you know what this means? Simon could solve the mysteries of Pudo’s history. Our scientists still don’t know what the aliens looked like and how they invaded the planet so quickly without being detected.”

  Simon adjusted his glasses. “I don’t think they were aliens.”

  “Really? That contradicts everything our scientists have claimed for generations! We should go to the library after school. I wonder if they’d let us into the historical section so you could read some of the ancient history books.”

  Tonya responded sarcastically, “That sounds real fun, but after school, Simon has therapy—with me.”

  “Oh, come on, Simon,” Thorn said. “You can miss one therapy session.”

  “Well, I guess I could.”

  Tonya frowned and was about to say something, but the school bell cut her off. “Oh, darn. We’re late for physics class,” she said wryly.

  * * *

  Physics class was as boring as ever and so was computer science, microbiology, and genetics. When school ended for the day, Simon and Thornapple went to the library, but Tonya decided to go home.

  The library was a magnificent building, made of thick granite walls that climbed upwards towards the sky. The courthouse, the sheriff’s department, and several other prominent buildings stood within the same complex as the library.

  Simon felt as if he were about to enter the cave of a huge stone mountain. Thornapple pushed the humongous library doors open, and the two children made their way through the many 3-D terminals that lined the walkway. They passed a group of three-year-olds who were sitting on the ground, listening to a hologram explain how “
our bodies are made of atomic molecules.” Simon used to love libraries and the way they gave him the opportunity to escape from reality; however, the Pudo library was in no way a fun place to visit.

  Thornapple walked over the hard marble floor to the front desk, where a decrepit old man slept. Simon, sitting in his hover chair, rose a couple of feet to meet the librarian, but the chair wouldn’t go high enough for him to see the man face-to-face.

  “Excuse me, but could you let us into the sealed portion of the library?” Thorn asked politely.

  The old man didn’t answer. He wore a red and white outfit with little mittens over his hands and a cone-shaped cap that covered his long white hair. If gnomes existed, they’d look just like this librarian. Simon laughed out loud at the thought, causing the sleeping man to wake up with a grunt.

  Startled, the librarian peered over his tall desk at the boys below and said in a thick, drawled accent, “Shhh, don’t ya know you’re in a library, boys?”

  “Yes,” said Thorn. “We want to see the sealed portion of the library.”

  “Sorry—can’t help ya,” the whimsical old man replied. “But I do have the newest edition of Mathematicians Weekly.”

  “No, thank you,” Simon said.

  “Well, now—how ’bout the Scientific Lecture Series? I hear they’re better than the four-volume set that came out last year.”

  “Maybe later,” Thorn said. “Why can’t we see the sealed portion of the library?”

  “Wouldn’t be sealed if I opened it!” The old man chuckled loudly.

  “Shhh!” another old librarian scolded from across the room.

  “Oh, don’t let your knickers get so tight. I’m just try’n to help these two boys.”

  The old woman scoffed at the comment and ran over to help a group of patrons who had just entered the main door.

  “Oh, hello, boys. May I help you?” the old man said, as if he had forgotten all about their previous conversation.

  Simon frowned. “Uh, can you direct us to the sealed portion of the library?”

  “Why, certainly!” The librarian pointed to a steel door with a digital keypad embedded in the wall directly behind his oversized desk. “Now,” he said, getting ready to share his joke again, “do ya know why I can’t letch-ya in?”

  “Because it wouldn’t be sealed if you opened it?” Simon said, grinning at the peculiar man.

  “Yeah!” he roared. “You’ve heard that one before, haven’t you?”

  “Glumly! SHHH!” hissed the other librarian from across the room.

  “Ahh!” The old man waved his hand to brush her off. He looked at Simon and Thorn with a puzzled expression and then said, “Oh, hello. Welcome to the library, boys. Did ya know this great building is the only thing that survived the Battle of Lisardious?”

  “No,” Simon said, trying to hold back his laughter. “I didn’t know that.”

  “So, what can I do you for?”

  “We were just browsing,” Thorn said in a discouraged tone.

  “Well, enjoy yourselves.” The old librarian shuffled some papers around.

  “Come on, Simon,” Thorn said. “Let’s go home.”

  They left the building and took a shortcut under the pavilion which was being set up for next week’s dance. Dr. Troodle’s home stood within eyesight of the library, and as they walked towards the house, something strange grabbed their attention. A large mammal with massive hind legs and a wide, muscular body grazed on the grass not too far from the Troodle’s front porch.

  “Oh, no,” Thorn groaned.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a farbearus.”

  Thorn ignored the animal completely and rushed to the front door but hesitated to open it when he heard the loud conversation coming from inside.

  “We bought him fair and square! You yourself signed the contract,” Mrs. Troodle’s harsh voice sounded.

  “Yes, but seven years—so long,” came the agonized reply.

  “You should be grateful Har is in a home like ours.”

  “I is grateful,” Har’s mother said in a drawn-out voice, “but next week—little Har’s birthday. Please let little Har be with family. Please.”

  Simon’s eyes widened at hearing Har’s mother describe her son as being little. He shuddered at Mrs. Troodle’s response.

  “Get out of here—now—before I call the police and have you sent to the mines. We still have six good years out of him. I don’t want to see your ugly face until then!”

  The front door flew open and almost knocked the boys off the porch. A large, hunched-over woman staggered out. From what Simon could see, she had looped earrings, dark, leathery skin, and a hideous face full of scars. Simon grimaced. But just as the giant strode off, he looked more closely and realized she also had big blue eyes full of tears. All the coarseness of her appearance seemed to wash away with those watery tears, and, for a brief moment, Simon glimpsed her inner beauty and the love she had for her son. His heart ached in sympathy for the pathetic creature, but there was nothing he could do to help her.

  * * *

  That night at dinner, the Troodles discussed the upcoming celebration and the historical significance behind the Battle of Lisardious with great enthusiasm.

  “…and if it wasn’t for the genius of the small Puds, we wouldn’t even be here today,” said Dr. Troodle.

  “Quite true,” his wife said. “But sometimes I wish the aliens would have gotten rid of a certain group of Puds.” She nodded to Har as he refilled her glass.

  “But, Sweetie,” Dr. Troodle countered, “if we didn’t have the big Puds, who would do the menial labor?”

  “You’re right again.” She smiled. “So, children, what did you learn in school today?”

  Tonya looked up from her plate of seeds and grass and said, “I learned about the same amount of information today as I did yesterday.” She finished the rest of her sentence in her mind—which was equivalent to nothing.

  “Wonderful!” Mrs. Troodle laughed mechanically.

  Thorn squirmed excitedly in his seat. “Simon discovered the true translation of the ancient writings of the Battle of Lisardious.”

  “Fantastic!”

  “Wait a second,” Dr. Troodle argued. “The history of the Battle of Lisardious has already been translated.”

  “Yes,” Thorn said, “but our scholars messed up. Simon can read the ancient language correctly.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” his father said with a half smile. “So, Simon, what exactly did you see in the ancient text that our best scholars didn’t see?”

  Thorn answered on Simon’s behalf. “He found out that the enemy invaders who almost destroyed the planet weren’t really aliens.”

  “Then where did they come from?” asked Mrs. Troodle.

  “From the ocean—I think,” Simon said quietly.

  Dr. Troodle laughed heartily. “So you think our entire civilization was almost annihilated by a bunch of fish?” He held up his plate.

  Simon was sadly reminded of what they were having for dinner: some sort of blue jellyfish with three black eel heads jutting out of the top. Mrs. Troodle chortled at her husband’s witty remark. Her fake laughter, mixed with occasional snorts, was starting to get on Simon’s nerves.

  “Simon, you have such a wild imagination,” she said. “And I suppose that’s acceptable behavior for someone… well, for someone with an inferior intellect, but people on Pudo don’t waste time using their minds for frivolous activities. I’m surprised at you, Thornapple, for allowing yourself to start… imagining things.”

  “Mother, we weren’t just wasting our time imagining what happened to the ancient Puds,” Thorn said. “We even tried to get more information at the library.”

  Dr. Troodle raised his eyebrows. “Children, if you find you don’t know something, just ask us. We pretty much know everything there is to know.”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Troodle said proudly. “Go ahead, Simon, ask us anything.”

&n
bsp; At first, Simon couldn’t think of anything to ask, but then he remembered the dream he had that morning.

  “What does civility mean?”

  “Good question,” the woman said, beaming. “Civility means being polite and courteous to others.”

  Dr. Troodle added, “It also means being a good citizen and showing respect to everyone you come in contact with.”

  Simon nodded and asked, “And what does equality mean?”

  “Goodness, Simon, where did you come up with these words?” asked Mrs. Troodle.

  “I heard them in a dream.”

  “Heard them in a dream,” the woman repeated, shaking her head. “See, Simon, that’s exactly what I was talking about. Even in your dreams, your mind wanders around aimlessly, thinking of unimportant things.” Simon gave her an earnest look, and she sighed. “Think of equality as a math problem: 1 + 1 = 2. When both sides of an equation are equal to each other, we have equality.”

  Simon frowned. “I didn’t think it had anything to do with math.”

  Dr. Troodle chuckled. “Sweetie, remember who you’re talking to. You can’t just throw out math problems to someone like Simon and expect him to understand them.”

  Simon clenched his fists under the table to control the anger that swelled inside him. He knew he wasn’t that great at math, but being treated as if he were an idiot was infuriating.

  “You’re quite right, Honey—like always,” she said. “Equality deals more with people. It means that everyone should be given the same rights and the same opportunities. So when people aren’t treated as equals, you have the opposite of equality. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah,” Simon said, “so it’s kinda like the situation between the big Puds and the small Puds.”

  Dr. Troodle choked on his drink and sprayed liquid everywhere—some of it even came out his nose. Thorn’s eyes expanded, and Mrs. Troodle looked like she was about to explode. But before anyone could say another word, Tonya suddenly screamed, “I can’t stand it any longer!”

  The red-haired girl sank her fork into one of the eels protruding from Simon’s jellyfish and ripped it away from the strange organism. She gnawed at the eel like a dog attacking a bone. Ripping through the tough skin with her bare teeth, she made her way to the tender meat inside.