Terra's World (7 page)

2.4

C
ustodians Bktg and Slgf were annoyed. They’d been looking forward to the gshkth – they were fans of the Gfjk-Hhh’s new improved version of gshkth – and it had been ruined by the arrival of the little alien interloper. They had no idea what His Luminescence had in mind for the Ymn when they caught her, but they hoped it was something nasty. Maybe something they’d get to watch.

They’d found a locked storeroom (which evidently no one had checked) and heard voices coming from inside. Now they were hammering on the door, and contemplating what rewards might await custodians who pleased the Gfjk-Hhh. They’d heard tantalising rumours.

The door opened. Bktg and Slgf saw four youngsters; two in everyday garments and two in the white robes of the New Believers.

- Thank you!
said one of the youngsters.
They locked us in here!

- They’re monsters! Aliens! Horrible!
said another one, who looked and sounded remarkably similar to the first.

- They said they were going to the Forum to attack His Luminescence when he arrives! Quickly, you need to get there before they do!

With thoughts of reward still fresh in their minds, the two custodians hurried away, with a shouted
- Love and glory to the Gfjk-Hhh!
as they left.

Shnst and Thnst looked at each other, and then at Terra and Billy. -
Well,
THEY
were stupid,
said Shnst.

- If that’s the average intelligence of the Gfjk-Hhh’s followers, we should be okay,
said Terra, lowering the hood of her white robe.
Do you mind if we keep these? We won’t last a blip out in the open without them.

- Listen, Terra,
said Thnst.
About what you said – about his followers being stupid. Take care. They’re not all stupid. Some of them are very clever.

- And not all of us are resisting,
said Shnst sadly.
A lot of people were really happy when he took over. They said the government was useless and Mlml needed some real leadership, especially after nearly getting invaded. And what with the prophecy . . .

Terra snorted.

- Don’t laugh!
said Thnst.
They believe it. They really do. They think this is what’s supposed to be happening. They believe he’s meant to rule us. And when people really believe something . . .

- There’s no end to what they’ll do,
said Shnst quietly.

There was a leaden pause.

- Where to now?
asked Billy.

Terra looked hopefully at the sisters, but Shnst lowered her eyes.
- No,
she said,
not our place. You see, our parents . . . they’d . . . They wouldn’t . . .

- They’re his,
said Thnst simply.

- I see,
said Terra.

- We’d better get home,
said Shnst.
Good luck.

- You too,
said Terra, and she hugged them both.

2.5

T
he Forum building in the centre of Hrrng was still known by that name, although the Forum hadn’t been in session for a long time now.

On the benches where once had sat rows of sombre, robed delegates, now lounged a curious collection of characters. Bizarrely dressed courtiers, off-duty Retinue custodians merry on too much zft-zft, others sleeping this off, panicking servants cleaning up the mess. This was the Gfjk-Hhh’s inner circle. Some he kept around because they amused him, some because they had some exploitable talent or other, many just because he enjoyed watching them trying to compete for his favours.

Busying through the crowd was Wffk. He’d been a lowly scrivener in the old Forum; recording the details of debates and meetings. Of course, every word spoken on the Forum floor had been electronically recorded since orbits past, but the post of Forum Scrivener had been preserved for reasons of ceremony and tradition. Upon his rise to power, the Gfjk-Hhh had kept Wffk on, since he possessed an almost extinct skill. He could write with a stylus on paper. The Gfjk-Hhh had employed Wffk as his personal scribe and clerk, mainly because he admired Wffk’s immaculate handwriting.

Wffk peered disapprovingly at the jumble of bodies littering the Forum benches. His Luminescence demanded high standards in all things except the company he kept, reflected Wffk.

With a blare of trumpets, the doors to the chamber burst open and the Gfjk-Hhh swept in. The conscious ones leapt to attention as best they could; some of the others merely slid off the benches and onto the floor. The Gfjk-Hhh didn’t seem to notice.

- Is all well, Luminescence?
enquired Wffk.

The Gfjk-Hhh removed his brass-coloured helmet, handed it to Wffk and looked about himself in a distracted fashion.
- It has been . . . an interesting morning, Wffk. Most interesting. I think I need to speak to the Deceiver again.

- So early in the day, Luminescence? But you know it tires you so,
said Wffk with genuine concern.

- Not today, Wffk. I think both he and I will find the conversation very stimulating indeed. I will speak with him now.

Wffk, wary but acquiescent, stepped over a couple of prone bodies and led the Gfjk-Hhh through a small door behind what had once been the Chancellor’s seat. This led to a short corridor, at the end of which a staircase – this part of the building predated GravTech by many eras – spiralled down through the floor.

Wffk and his master descended the staircase. At the bottom lay one of the Forum building’s guilty secrets. A dungeon, an actual subterranean prison in which enemies of the state – or at least, enemies of whoever had been in charge of the state – had once been confined, in secret, in perpetuity. It had lain empty for eras. Until a few cycles ago.

The Gfjk-Hhh had been delighted to learn of the dungeon’s existence shortly after taking up residence in the Forum building. It would be just the thing to contain the most treacherous criminal in the nation. The most dangerous mind he’d ever encountered. The Deceiver.

The Deceiver had been held there in isolation since the Gfjk-Hhh’s earliest days in power. Few beside the Gfjk-Hhh knew of the Deceiver’s presence below the Forum, and no one beside the Gfjk-Hhh was allowed to speak to him.

Wffk opened the door to the cell with a large black metal key and stepped aside to let the Gfjk-Hhh pass through it.

- That’ll be all, Wffk. I’ll lock up after myself. Leave us.

- Very good, Luminescence.
Wffk handed the key over and stepped away silently.

Looking through the unbreakable crystal barrier (that he’d had installed especially), the Gfjk-Hhh could see the Deceiver slumped in a corner. He tapped on the crystal. No response. He tapped more heavily. He thumped on the crystal with his fist. The Deceiver stirred.

- That’s better. Now come here! I need to talk to you.

The Deceiver did not get to his feet but swivelled round on the floor. He raised his eyes and fixed the Gfjk-Hhh with a look of pure hatred.

- What do you want?
asked Lbbp.

2.6

T
he Gfjk-Hhh smiled.
- Same as always – to talk. I mean, we could try playing dfsh, but I think this might get in the way.
He tapped on the crystal. Lbbp did not respond to the joke.

- I’ve got nothing to say to you,
Lbbp said quietly, and turned away, leaning against the crystal.

- Oh, but you have!
said the Gfjk-Hhh.
You still have so much to teach me! I couldn’t have done any of this without you.

Lbbp spun around to face him.
- YOU did this, whatever your name is. You did it all by yourself. Don’t try to blame anyone else for what you’re turning into.

The Gfjk-Hhh’s expression became one of hurt and astonishment.
- Blame? Blame for what? There’s no blame to be shared here, Deceiver. I’m trying to share the credit for my achievements with you. Of course, strictly speaking, it isn’t really you I should be thanking, is it?

Lbbp’s fists clenched a little tighter. The Gfjk-Hhh noticed this, and it pleased him. He went on,
- I mean, you’re a tricky old f ’zft and no mistake, but where did you learn it? You were just the same as the rest of us, weren’t you? Truthful, literal . . . boring. And then you found her.

Lbbp screwed up his eyes tight, as if by shutting out the image of the Gfjk-Hhh he could shut out his words as well. But the words continued.

- All those sneaky little Ymn tricks she taught you! Made quite the storyteller out of you, didn’t she? But you were too timid, too ordinary, too SMALL to understand what you had! If you hadn’t met me, we might never have achieved anything.

Lbbp said nothing, just waited for it to be over, waited for the Gfjk-Hhh to get bored and go away, as he always did – eventually. But the Gfjk-Hhh wasn’t finished.

- But it really is all down to the little Ymn, when you think about it. What a shame I never got to meet her.
The Gfjk-Hhh crouched down to study Lbbp’s face closely.
I know what you’re thinking, Deceiver. You’re relieved. Relieved she’s so far away. Relieved she’ll never know of your disgrace. Relieved she isn’t here to witness my rule, that I’ll never meet her . . .

The Gfjk-Hhh stood up and reached inside his robe.
- I have something to show you, Deceiver.
In spite of his better judgement, Lbbp opened his eyes and turned to see.

The Gfjk-Hhh held a slate.

- I thought you were trying to ban those,
said Lbbp.

The Gfjk-Hhh smiled airily.
- You can still get hold of them if you know the right people. And I know ALL the right people, Deceiver. Everyone comes to visit me, sooner or later. For example . . .
He held up the slate for Lbbp to inspect.
Just LOOK who turned up to the gshkth this morning.

Lbbp’s eyes, weary from so long in darkness, struggled to focus. The slate showed a crowd of Fnrrns, some robed, others in more normal garments . . . and in the middle of them, what? Another figure, clad in ill-fitting, multi-coloured clothes, some sort of headgear . . . hair? Oddly coloured hair? Pink skin? It couldn’t be!

- NO!
Lbbp hurled himself at the barrier.

- And here I was, thinking you’d be pleased to see her,
said the Gfjk-Hhh.
I’M pleased. I’ve always wanted to thank her in person.

- If you hurt her,
rasped Lbbp.
If you TOUCH her . . .

- You’ll what? Beat yourself to death against the crystal? Be my guest. Although please,
the Gfjk-Hhh added imploringly,
don’t do that while I’m not here. I’d hate to miss it.

The Gfjk-Hhh turned to leave. He half-closed the cell door, then paused and said,
- I’ll tell her you said hello.

The Gfjk-Hhh locked the cell door and strode away. Even at the top of the staircase, he could still hear Lbbp pounding on the crystal and howling with rage and anguish.

2.7

T
he small door behind the Chancellor’s chair burst open and the Gfjk-Hhh emerged into the Forum. His courtiers (at least those who were able) leapt to their feet at his approach.

- Good session with the Deceiver, Luminescence?
asked Wffk.

- He’s feisty today!
The Gfjk-Hhh smiled.
Maybe a little too feisty. Reduce his rations by an eighth.

- Of course, Luminescence.
Wffk made a note on his scroll.

- You were right, though. It has left me quite drained. I must retire for a while. I’ll call if I need anything,
said the Gfjk-Hhh, proceeding towards his private apartments.

- We’ll be here,
said Wffk, following him along the corridor.

- I know,
said the Gfjk-Hhh, and stepped through the door to his chambers.

The door swished quietly shut behind him. The Gfjk-Hhh exhaled heavily. He was alone. He could relax.

There was a large mirror covering one wall of the room. The Gfjk-Hhh had ordered it installed upon moving in. The chambers’ previous occupant, the erstwhile Chancellor, had not felt the need to inspect her own appearance quite so frequently (or in quite so ostentatious a manner) as the Gfjk-Hhh. But then, she’d been a lot more secure in her own identity.

Until a couple of orbits previously, until the brief war with the G’grk, the Gfjk-Hhh had gone by the rather less prepossessing name of Bfgsh. Bfgsh had lived an unremarkable life, performing unremarkable tasks in an unremarkable fashion. He’d shown promise as a young Fnrrn; his Lyceum reports would routinely acknowledge his keen intelligence but bemoan his lack of application. He was smart, very smart . . . but he was lazy.

By the time the war started, Bfgsh had attained the most prestigious job he’d ever had; he was a cleaner, scrubbing and tending the hallowed halls of Hrrng Preceptorate.

The war and Bfgsh had rather passed each other by; he’d stayed hidden inside his cupboard on the morning of the G’grk assault, and hadn’t even ventured outside later that same day when the cries of celebration had echoed through the streets. He took the sounds for G’grk victory chants; it was only when he heard familiar voices among the jubilation that the truth dawned.

Over the next few days, Bfgsh, along with everyone else on Fnrr, discovered what had happened; how the Ymn child had softened the heart of the fearsome Grand Marshal K’zsht with a ‘snng’, whatever that was, and how her guardian, a Postulator named Lbbp, had heroically risked his own life to protect the Grand Marshal from the fury of his own deputy, Sk’shk.

The relief and euphoria of the ‘victory’ (if that was indeed what it was; opinion was divided on this) soon palled in Bfgsh’s case when two facts had dawned on him: firstly, that this meant he was still a cleaner at Hrrng Preceptorate, and secondly, that there was more cleaning up to be done at the Preceptorate than ever.

So it was an especially glum Bfgsh who, a few days after the brief war, now found himself tasked with sweeping up bits of debris in the Preceptorate’s domed council chamber. His cleaning trolley’s little GravTech motor had failed; he had to drag the thing over the quartz floor to get it into place. He didn’t bother to check whether he was damaging the floor; repairing damage was someone else’s department. He had only to concern himself with mess, and as he surveyed the chamber, he decided that there was more than enough mess to keep him occupied.

- Here, let me help you with that.

Bfgsh started. He’d thought himself alone in the chamber. A tall thin Fnrrn, a little older than himself, was extending a hand to him, offering assistance. Just the one hand, Bfgsh noticed; the other arm he held close to his body, as if it were injured.

Bfgsh smiled gratefully as the stranger helped him haul his trolley into position. He looked familiar, thought Bfgsh. Where had he seen him before?

It came to him. This was Lbbp! This was Postulator Lbbp himself, the hero whose bravery and selflessness had brought G’grk and Mlmln together and averted destruction. Bfgsh couldn’t help himself. He turned to the stranger,
- I’m sorry,
he said,
but are you Postulator Lbbp?

The stranger looked momentarily pained and weary, as if Bfgsh’s question – honestly meant and humbly put – was a great burden to him. He made as if to reply to Bfgsh, then paused, a curious look on his face. As Bfgsh pondered the meaning of this, the stranger answered him.

- No,
said the stranger.
A lot of people have asked me that. I think I must look like him.

- Oh,
said Bfgsh, disappointed. Odd, this tall Fnrrn did look a lot like Postulator Lbbp, he was standing in the very place where Lbbp had performed his now famous feat of bravery, he even (Bfgsh now noticed) seemed to have a sore shoulder much as Lbbp would certainly have, but he’d said he wasn’t Lbbp, so he obviously wasn’t. He wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true, would he? Why would anyone do something like that?

Bfgsh resumed his duties with even less enthusiasm as the stranger walked away.

* * *

It was a couple of days later that Bfgsh hovered through the window of his shabby apartment after a rather gruelling day’s scrubbing and scraping (his sonic broom had packed in and there was no sign of the maintenance co-ordinator; he’d probably got himself killed in the invasion, the selfish
f ’zft), deactivated his gravity bubble and wandered into the servery to fix himself some configuration 8. The visualiser activated itself at his approach and began to show the local Hrrng news.

The main story was the departure of the Rrth-child. She’d been offered passage home as a reward for whatever it was she’d done to avert the war (Bfgsh was still a bit hazy as to how she’d managed that) and was being seen off with some sort of ceremony at the Forum square. There she was, a funny-looking little pink thing, with the Preceptor (Bfgsh thought that was him, anyway – the purple robe was the Preceptor’s official garb, wasn’t it?), the Chancellor, and—

It
HAD
been Lbbp!

Definitely definitely! That absolutely WAS the Fnrrn he’d spoken to in the council dome. There he was with his arm round the little alien, proud as Pfzk. And yes! The announcer had named him! He was Postulator Lbbp! Stepfather of the Ymn child Terra and hero of the moment.

Bfgsh’s mind turned the facts over and over but couldn’t get them to fit together. He’d said he wasn’t Lbbp, but he WAS Lbbp. He’d said he wasn’t, but he was.

What Lbbp had said – it wasn’t true. Like the st’rss the Rrth child had got everyone telling each other. It was made up.

But it wasn’t the same thing, was it?

St’rss, f ’k-shnn, the books and plays, the imaginary histories which were now so popular on Fnrr – they weren’t true, but they weren’t
MEANT
to be true. You weren’t supposed to believe them, you just pretended to believe them for as long as they lasted.

What Lbbp had said to him – Lbbp had intended Bfgsh to believe. He’d taken an untruth and presented it as a truth, in order to benefit himself. This wasn’t f ’k-shnn, this wasn’t st’rss, this was . . .

There wasn’t a word for it in the Mlmln language.

Bfgsh had a lot of trouble getting to sleep that night, his
mind buzzing with contradictions, paradoxes . . . and just the faintest glimmer of possibility.

* * *

Bfgsh awoke the next morning with a start. He was lying on his sleep-room floor. His sleep-well had deactivated at the proper time, lowering him to the floor, but he’d been so exhausted it hadn’t woken him up. He’d carried on slumbering, curled up in a heap.

Bfgsh leapt to his feet and checked the clock. Fifth spectrum-blue. He was late, very late.

He struggled into his work clothes and hurtled out of the window, just activating his gravity bubble in time to avoid a nasty, jolting drop.

He hovered frantically towards the Preceptorate, through deserted skies. Everyone else was already at work. He was in serious trouble.

He landed awkwardly on the street in front of the temporary cabin that his overseer, Dff, was using as an office while the building which had housed his old office was being repaired. ( The G’grk had managed to destroy Dff ’s place of work while leaving Dff himself completely unscathed. Just one more thing Bfgsh would never be able to forgive them for.)

Bfgsh tiptoed around to the rear of the cabin, where his trolley was stashed, in the hope that he could collect it and set off about his tasks without Dff noticing his tardiness. But his trolley was nowhere to be seen.

- I gave it to Hshk,
came Dff ’s voice from behind him.
We got tired of waiting for you so I sent him off to do your rounds.

Bfgsh turned to face his overseer, his mouth moving silently in search of something to say.

- I suppose there’s a reason you’re this late?
Dff went on.
A reason I shouldn’t just fire you right now?

Bfgsh’s mind raced, and suddenly it was as if the top of his head had been prised open and glorious sunlight streamed into his brain.

- Of course there is,
he said.
My apartment was burgled during the night.

- Burgled?
said Dff in alarm.

- You know, when someone sneaks into your place and steals all your stuff.

- I know what it
MEANS
,
said Dff testily, but in fairness, not much of that sort of petty crime went on in Hrrng; not everyone would be familiar with the term.

- Yes, they just sneaked in while I was asleep; cleaned the whole place out without even waking me,
said Bfgsh with what he thought was a most convincing shudder of horror.
So obviously when I woke up I had to call the Retinue, and
THEY
had to call the Municipal Investigators’ office. I’ve been giving statements and making lists of missing items all morning. Wasn’t allowed to leave until I was done. I would have called to tell you, but of course one of the missing items was . . .

- Your comm?
ventured Dff.

- Yes, my comm,
smiled Bfgsh apologetically. His comm was of course in his pocket at that moment. He really hoped it didn’t beep. It almost certainly wouldn’t; at that moment Bfgsh was quite glad he didn’t have many friends.

Dff grunted.
- Fair enough. Anyway Hshk’s off doing your rounds, like I said, so today, you’ll have to—

- Actually,
said Bfgsh, having another flash of inspiration,
before they let me leave, they sent for an Emotional Well-Being Specialist from the Brain Science Hub. Standard procedure, apparently. Anyway, she says I’m having a . . .
(take your time, Bfgsh, get this right)
a Severe Post-Traumatic Reaction, and I’m not to come into work until I’ve recovered.

Dff ’s eyes widened.
- What, for the rest of the rotation?

Bfgsh tried to look sorry.
- I think she said for the rest of the cycle, actually.
I am
REALLY
good at this, he thought.

- The
CYCLE
?
spat Dff.

Bfgsh made a what-can-you-do-about-it face.
- Standard procedure, like I said. I wasn’t even supposed to come in to tell you, but . . . you know . . . didn’t have my comm.
Bfgsh smiled.

Dff gave a heavy sigh. It wasn’t his place to question ‘standard procedure’, and now he thought about it, a whole cycle without having to look at Bfgsh’s face was immensely appealing.
- Go on, then,
he said with a dismissive wave.

- Thanks.
Bfgsh smiled.
I’ll pop in once a phase to get my payment.

- Whatever,
said Dff, going back into his cabin.

* * *

Bfgsh spent most of the early part of his leave of absence asleep. He would wake in the morning, yawn, stretch, remember he had no work to go to, congratulate himself on his cleverness, reset his sleep-well and doze off again.

After a few days, boredom began to set in.

Bfgsh decided to test out some other applications of deliberate untruth. He crashed private parties, helped himself to goods and services free of charge, assuring the suppliers that payment would be forthcoming, then when some of these suppliers began to get impatient, he discovered ways of obtaining funds through duplicitous means; forging payment documents in the name of non-existent co-workers, going into the Mlmln National Repositorium and making hefty withdrawals from other people’s accounts . . .

By the time the cycle was over and his leave of absence was up, Bfgsh was, by his own standards, comfortably off. He never returned to his cleaning job and they never came looking for him to find out where he’d gone. They didn’t check. That was something Bfgsh was beginning to realise. Nobody checks, he thought. Nobody ever checks.

Life went on in this happy, dishonest fashion for a few more cycles. Bfgsh, though sated and pampered, grew dissatisfied. There was more to it than this, he was sure. He was only barely tapping the potential of this way of life. The possibilities were, he was beginning to see, literally endless. What he needed was a plan.

Bfgsh decided to devote some of his limitless free time to a pursuit he’d never tried before. Bfgsh started reading.

He unpacked his new slate (
- Hello? I bought a slate from you last phase, and it didn’t work properly. I’ve handed it in to the service department, but they said because it’s a new one I should just come to you for a free replacement. Thank you, that’s very kind
) and started to do some research.

The first thing he decided to find out was what the Ymns called what he was doing.
LYING
, they called it in one of their main languages, which, confusingly, seemed to be the same word they used in that language for how they went to sleep; Bfgsh couldn’t tell whether there was a connection between the different uses of the word, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t interested in the vagaries of Ymn linguistics. He was interested in how they
USED
these lies.