Profusion

by Stan C. Smith

  Lindsey opened her eyes. “Hey, did you trick me? Tree kangaroos can’t see red, can they? And you knew that, didn’t you?”

  Addison actually rolled on the ground, kicking his feet and slapping his belly and chest, obviously delighted. Abruptly he jumped to his feet. “Mummy. Daddy. Me show you my tree house. Up.” He waited for them to follow him.

  Lindsey said, “Honey, we can’t climb like you. We have to stay down here.”

  He puckered his mouth. “Rusty show you.” He jabbed a finger toward the tree kangaroo. “Okay, Mummy?”

  “Okay, but please be careful.”

  He shoved Rusty with his foot, forcing the creature to get up. “Come, Rusty! Stay, Newton!” He then ran off with Rusty, and Newton remained obediently where she was.

  Quentin gazed at Lindsey but didn’t say anything.

  “You’re upset with me,” she said. “But keep in mind I know some things you don’t know yet.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as how beneficial it is to pair up with one of the mbolop. It’s life-changing, Quentin.”

  He continued gazing at her, unwilling to even try to respond.

  “They’re from the Lamotelokhai. I think we should trust them.”

  He shrugged and looked down at the dead leaves he had been grinding up in his closed fist. “There was a time when you refused to be treated by the Lamotelokhai’s particles.”

  “Things are different now. You know that.”

  Samuel walked up to them and sat down next to Quentin.

  “I must concede to resounding defeat. Try as I might, I cannot procure an accurate count of the tree kangaroos. The confounded creatures will not stop moving about. I conclude that my original estimate was reasonable. There are approximately three hundred.”

  Quentin looked over toward the lean-to shelter. Tree kangaroos were milling about everywhere. Some were even sniffing the shelter and pushing against it, as if inspecting the workmanship. Another of the creatures confidently approached Quentin. It smelled his leg. It was the third one to do this in the last hour. It clawed into its abdomen and offered him a lump of tissue. Quentin shook his head, refusing it. After a minute or so the creature put the lump back and wandered off.

  A thought Quentin had been trying to keep at bay suddenly surfaced. He spoke to Samuel. “What do you honestly believe? Do you really think the tree kangaroos are here to save people?”

  Samuel poked at the ground with his finger for a few seconds. “I have always believed that the Lamotelokhai did not come here with the intention of destroying us. But I have also long believed that it will destroy us. Because I have concluded that mankind is not predisposed to use it wisely and properly. Perhaps we never will be. Perhaps we lack certain necessary characteristics, not the least of which is a general sense of compassion for others.”

  Quentin waited for him to go on, but Samuel went back to poking the ground. “So, the tree kangaroos,” Quentin said. “Are they really capable of saving people? If so, can they save only three hundred?”

  “Do I believe they can save people? They are of the Lamotelokhai’s clay, and so I am certain they can. As for the number, three hundred is preferable to three, is it not? You two are charged with choosing those three hundred. I do hope you choose wisely.”

  Quentin turned to Lindsey, and their eyes met. She shook her head, although he wasn’t sure what the gesture meant.

  Suddenly she stiffened. “They’re inside Addison’s tree house.” She frowned. “It’s smaller than I thought it would be.” She quickly put a hand over her mouth and looked down at Newton. “No, honey. I didn’t mean I don’t like it. It’s very nice.”

  Quentin realized Addison was experiencing everything Newton saw and heard, just as Lindsey was immersed in Rusty’s experiences.

  “What is that? Oh, you want me to guess? Well, hmm. Is it a little man? It is? Did you make it? Oh, it’s Daddy?” She looked over at Quentin, smiling. “Did you make Mommy, too? Oh, yes, that’s me! Those are very nice, Addison.” She paused. “Oh, I have to guess again? Let me see it, okay? Is it a necklace? What are those things? Oh. Oh my. Snake heads. Did you kill all of those, Addison? You ate them.” She put a hand to her chest. “Well, I hope they were yummy. They were. Okay.”

  She dug into her pocket. “Now it’s my turn. I have something. Can you guess what it is?” She held her mbolop talisman in front of Newton’s face. “Yes, it’s a rock. But it was carved to look like something. Can you guess what? No? Well, it’s a tree kangaroo. An mbolop.” She laughed. “Yes, that’s funny isn’t it?”

  Quentin turned to Samuel. “I’m starting to feel left out.”

  “Perhaps you should yield to the inevitable. Claim your mbolop. Soon, when you are choosing three hundred living souls to whom you will give the talismans, your conscience may prevent you from claiming your own.”

  Quentin shook his head. “I can’t make myself believe that the end of the world is here. Do you really think it is?”

  “I have contemplated its eventual arrival for so many years that perhaps I have grown accustomed to the notion. I do not wish to be insensitive to the grave implications.”

  Quentin sighed and stared up at the fading light filtering through the forest canopy. Ashley had said on the SAT phone that some people had divided the Lamotelokhai into pieces, and that she and Bobby were coming here to put it back together. She had made it clear that this was important. Had she actually meant save-the-world important?

  There was no point in driving himself crazy with speculation. “What about you, Samuel? Aren’t you going to pair up with one of them?”

  Samuel eyed him. “Perhaps you have been too occupied with spurning the offers of numerous mbolop to notice that I have had no such offers. This is no doubt due to the fact that Sinanie and his fellow tribesmen have not offered to me a talisman.”

  “Oh. Sorry. Well, when they hand them over, I’ll be sure to give you one.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “I am hesitant, as are you.”

  Quentin turned to Lindsey. She was looking back at him, and so was Addison’s mbolop.

  Lindsey grinned. “Addison says, ‘Hi Daddy.’ And he wants to know if you have your mbolop yet.”

  Quentin turned to the tree kangaroo. “Hi Addison. No, I don’t have an mbolop.”

  Newton turned her gaze back to Lindsey. A few seconds later, Lindsey said, “Yes, you’re right. Daddy is silly. But we’ll help him, won’t we?”

  ∞

  Quentin awoke slowly and reluctantly. It had rained half the night, and sleep had been sparse. He sat up and rubbed the splattered mud from his face. Lindsey was sitting cross-legged on her sleeping mat, Rusty beside her. Her clothes were as wet as his, but she was writing on a small pad she must have had in her pack. Samuel sat a few feet beyond her, wiping his bare legs clean with a large leaf.

  Quentin looked around. A few tree kangaroos were hopping about, apparently with specific destinations in mind. Most of them had disappeared into the trees just before dark to spend the night in the safety of their hanging chambers.

  He turned to Lindsey. “Have you seen Addison yet?” Like the tree kangaroos, Addison had insisted on leaving them at dark to climb to his hut.

  “He was here a few minutes ago,” Lindsey said without looking up from her pad. “I think he was checking on us.”

  Samuel said, “It seems he is concerned that you may disappear, just as you are concerned that he may run away.”

  Lindsey finally looked up from her writing. “You’ll never guess what he wanted to know regarding you.”

  “Do I have my own mbolop yet.”

  She went back to writing.

  “What are you doing?” He asked.

  She handed him the pad. The page had two columns, one with the heading Pros and the other Cons. The Pros column was filled with writing. The Cons column was empty.

  He started reading the items aloud. “Optimized hormonal balance = contentment. Optimized nutritional balanc
e = vigor. Deep connection to another living thing = new ways of seeing the world = stimulation.” He stopped reading and sighed. “Can I ask why you don’t have anything in the Cons column?”

  “Because there aren’t any, as far as I can tell. Go ahead, finish reading them.”

  He sighed again. “Companionship = contentment. Assistance with tasks = more time for other things. The mbolop are made of Lamotelokhai’s particles = this alone should be enough.” He glanced up at her and then read the last item on the list aloud. “According to Addison, Samuel, and Sinanie’s tribe, you are going to die without your own mbolop.” He handed the pad back to her.

  She said, “And I could add that your wife and son want you to be safe. Hon, all these things are true. I’ve never felt better in my life.”

  Quentin considered arguing, but he just shook his head. Maybe she was right.

  A dark shape appeared above them and landed near their feet with a thump. It was Addison. Where had he come from? Quentin couldn’t see a tree limb within fifteen yards of where he had landed.

  Addison plopped down before them and crossed his legs. In each hand he held a sizable monitor lizard, one of them missing its head and the front half of its body. The other was whole but appeared to be dead.

  Their son held the intact lizard out to them. “Mummy, Daddy eat. Samuel eat too.”

  A moment of silence passed. Quentin accepted the lizard. “Thank you.”

  Addison grinned, his teeth red with blood and chunks of meat. Then he ripped into his own lizard, occasionally picking shreds of skin and other inedible parts from his mouth and flicking them away.

  “The legs and tail are particularly desirable,” Samuel said. “Even in the raw state.”

  “Okay, you’re welcome to start on it.” Quentin handed the lizard to Lindsey, who passed it on.

  Samuel turned it over, observing it from every angle as if admiring its beauty or deciding what species it was. He then brushed away some grime, pulled a small gleaming knife from a pocket inside his vest, and began cutting, somehow maintaining the appearance of fastidiousness and gentlemanly manners.

  Quentin was hungry, but he wasn’t sure he was hungry enough to eat raw lizard meat. Apparently it was a day for being indecisive. He got to his feet and went to the log where he had left the SAT phone. He shook the rainwater off and wiped it with his shirt before powering it on. Still there were no messages or missed calls from Ashley and Bobby. The indicator showed only 35% battery charge remaining. He powered the phone off, went off to relieve himself, and then returned to his sleeping pad. Addison was working on the last of his meal, the tail. Samuel was cutting small strips of flesh from the other lizard and laying them on a clean leaf.

  “I would prefer this meat to be cooked,” Samuel said, “but present conditions are not favorable for making a fire.”

  Quentin watched Addison eat, experiencing both joy and revulsion at the sight of his son. Would Addison have to remain in this form for the rest of his life?

  And what about his mental state? He now seemed to have the mind of a toddler. This was no doubt Quentin’s fault. Eight months ago, in a desperate attempt to stop Addison from killing more people, Quentin had asked Bobby to order the Lamotelokhai to provide a substance that would kill him. Quentin himself had thrown the substance at Addison’s face, fully intending to kill his own son. It wasn’t until after this unthinkable act that he learned Bobby instead had made the substance to erase Addison’s memory, thus saving Addison’s life. It had taken Quentin a while to realize it, but he would be forever grateful to Bobby for this. And he would be forever guilt-ridden for having initiated the act in the first place.

  What would life be like for Addison with his current appearance and mental state? Assuming, of course, that the world was not actually coming to an end.

  Something nudged Quentin’s leg. Another tree kangaroo. This one was a bit smaller than most of the others, although it was clearly a male. The creature held two bluish-purple fruits the size of large grapes, one in its mouth and one between its forepaws. It dropped the fruits next to Quentin’s foot.

  “They are from the plum pine,” Samuel said. “Podocarpus, if I am not mistaken. You may eat them, although I do not recommend eating more than what the mbolop has offered. Perhaps the mbolop senses something that you yourself do not know, Quentin.”

  Quentin picked up the fruits to inspect them more closely. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because native Papuans use those fruits for medicinal remedies.”

  “I haven’t needed any medicines for eight months,” Quentin said.

  “As I said, perhaps the mbolop knows something you do not.”

  Quentin took another look at the tree kangaroo. Hairs with black tips grew on its head and neck, making it darker than most of the others. The rims of its ears were tipped with white. It stared back at him as if waiting for him to eat the fruits.

  Addison slapped his belly with one hand and pointed at the tree kangaroo. “Mummy! Daddy has mbolop. That Daddy’s mbolop!”

  Quentin glanced at her. She nodded but held her tongue.

  Samuel watched with no particular expression, apparently deciding it was best to withhold his opinion.

  Quentin took a small bite of one of the fruits. The flesh was slimy and slightly sweet. Not bad. “Thank you,” he said to the tree kangaroo. He took a larger bite. “I suppose you have something else to offer me.”

  The creature cocked its head to the side. It straightened up on its haunches and started scratching its abdomen. Addison slapped his belly again, but Quentin didn’t take his eyes off the mbolop. Seconds later the creature held out a lump of tissue. Or nanoparticles, or Lamotelokhai clay. Whatever it was, Quentin knew it would change his life if he accepted it. As if what he really needed right now was yet another life change.

  He held his hand out, and the mbolop dropped the lump onto his palm. He watched the substance spread out and disappear through his skin, punctuated by Addison’s frantic belly slapping.

  He had thought the tingling sensation would be more pronounced, but it was barely detectable, just a subtle feeling of warmth. It moved up his arm and into his shoulder, at which point it seemed to dissipate. He felt something at his side, and he realized Lindsey had moved closer. She stretched her legs out in front of her.

  “Lay your head in my lap, in case your body goes to sleep. Your mind will stay awake.”

  Quentin looked at her, but he didn’t feel like saying anything. He was starting to feel nauseous, so he shifted and put his head in her lap. Suddenly he was aware he was moaning, but it was beyond his control. The world around him faded away. It was replaced by something else, a vision, although the visual element was only one of many layers. His other senses were alive as well, as were his emotions. This was disorienting, but soon his mind adjusted to the barrage of different forms of stimulation.

  The mbolop particles flowed through his veins and into his cells. He was aware of it happening and could feel every minuscule particle gliding and bumping along and stacking up at bottlenecks, only to be released when pressure mounted. There were millions of them, and he could feel them all. And on top of this multi-point layer of sensation was a visual layer, numerous three-dimensional videos playing at once. He saw every detail of his mbolop, as if tiny drones were flying inches above its body and sending images to his mind. The creature’s eyes, with flecks of golden pigment within the otherwise brown irises. Short, black-tipped hairs on its face, harboring particles of dirt but no parasites or pests. A recent scratch on the edge of its nose, which Quentin somehow knew was from a tussle with one of its sisters over a perfectly ripe orange berry with a name that could only be expressed with precise movements of two forepaws. A pattern of tan, orange, and brown mottling that extended from the base of its long tail to the tip, and which not only served as an indicator of the creature’s identity, but also had shifted in pattern and color during its lifetime, serving as a marker of social status and developmental ach
ievements.

  And on top of the visual layer, there was a layer of scents, each of them with specific significance. And there were tastes, and sounds. Layered on top of all that was an almost overwhelming flood of emotions. They washed over Quentin’s consciousness like a syrupy fluid, so confining that he could not force his thoughts elsewhere. He experienced them one at a time, as if they were queued up in a specific order. He felt confusion and then wonder as he experienced the mbolop’s memory of gradually awakening during its final hours of development into a fully-formed adult. He felt exuberance and fear as it ventured out of the hanging chambers for the first time, finding itself on a narrow limb high above the forest floor. He felt a combination of determination and sadness as the mbolop helped its brothers and sisters tear apart a struggling sibling with a body that had somehow failed to develop normally.

  The emotional memories continued to flow, one at a time, and all the while Quentin was still aware of the other layers of sensations—visions, smells, tastes, and sounds. And finally, it all ended.

  Quentin opened his eyes.

  “There you are.” Lindsey’s face was above his.

  He blinked. “Lindsey, it was—”

  “I know.” She smiled.

  Addison’s face appeared beside Lindsey’s. “Daddy, now you have mbolop.”

  Quentin sat up. Samuel was still gazing at him, as if only seconds had passed. Addison slapped his own belly a few times, grinning and nodding his head.

  The mbolop was still there, at his feet, watching him. The thing was a simple yet complex creature. It hadn’t lived long, a few months, but its life had been filled with meaningful, painful, harrowing, and fascinating moments. It was like all the other mbolop, but it was distinct. It wasn’t a real animal—it was something more. It was made of tiny particles crafted by beings who were likely long extinct.

  And above all, this mbolop was now Quentin’s.

  Twenty-three

  Bobby woke up when the Cessna Citation’s tires hit the runway at Sentani International Airport, just west of Jayapura, the capital city of Papua. Groggy, he looked around. Ashley and Carlos were also beginning to stir. Jonathan was awake, frowning at his smartphone.