Hylozoic Read online

  “Damn you, Mom,” screamed Thuy. “Get away!”

  Minh withdrew; Khan regained his focus; the house settled onto the foundation in the woods.

  Amid relieved murmurs, the group unlinked.

  “You must respect your mother, Thuy,” said Khan. “It’s not easy for her anymore.”

  “We’re lucky we made it at all,” said Jayjay, sticking up for his wife. He went over and looked out the door. Most of the porch had been gnawed away by the insatiable beings of the subdimensions.

  “I’ll teek for the sauce,” said Khan, briefly closing his eyes. Two little pots appeared on the dining table. “So all is well. Thuy and Jayjay, I’m sorry about your porch.”

  “Main thing is we’re here,” said Thuy, giddy with relief. She hugged her father. “I’ll apologize to Mom later. But let me enjoy this first, I’ve earned it. Isn’t this spot beautiful? And our cabin likes it, too. Right, Vrilla?”

  Running into the clearing, Thuy stretched her arms high overhead and twiddled her fingers, as if dancing with the trees. “That’s pretty,” said Jil. “The dance of the dryads. Like in a classical ballet.” She jumped down from the doorway and joined in.

  “Can we, um, start eating?” asked Momotaro, eyeing the appetizers.

  “Very tasty,” said Khan. “Do you know about Vietnamese food?”

  “Sure,” said Momotaro. “I love those soft spring rolls.” He reached for one, and the rest of the crowd followed suit, quickly clearing the plates.

  “That dipping sauce is to die for,” said Sonic sardonically.

  “Is there wine?” inquired Nektar.

  “Hold on,” said Lureen. “My treat.” In a flash, she’d teeked in a case of champagne from her wine cellar. “Pop a few of these corks, would you, Kittie? I’ll fetch some glasses, too. Come on, Thuy and Jil! Have a drink!”

  “I’ll get meat and fish from my restaurant,” said Nektar, not to be outdone. “And some big salads. You do want to have a cookout, right, Jayjay?”

  “Yeah,” said Jayjay, out in the clearing now, arranging the leftover rocks in a fire ring. He’d already reassured himself that there were no flying stingrays to be seen.

  “Scavenger hunt!” Ond told Bixie. “Bring Jayjay dry thin sticks and then some fatter ones. Dead but from a tree.”

  “I’ll help,” said Chu, who tended to hang as close to Bixie as she’d let him. It was obvious to everyone that Chu had a crush on the girl; she was only a year and a half younger than him. Bixie tolerated the fourteen-year-old’s attentions, at least for now. Though odd and unworldly, Chu was smart and quite good-looking. He had big brown eyes, tidy features, pleasantly olive-colored skin, and shiny brown hair.

  “Go get ’em, Chu,” said Ond, smiling at his son. Inside the house, another cork bounced off the ceiling. The women were laughing uproariously.

  In a matter of minutes, Bixie and Chu had assembled more than enough wood. Jayjay set about half of it alight, making sure to teep into the fire silp and beg it not to go out of control.

  The fire crackled briskly, reveling in its consumption of wood, sending a thoughtful column of smoke into the growing dusk, blending with the wisps of fog in the high reaches of the redwoods. Steadily the air grew cooler. Slender Bixie moved closer to the fire, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “Here,” said Chu, handing her his wool overshirt.

  “Frankenstein offers his coat to the meager orphan girl,” said Momotaro. “Just kidding. Can we cook the meat now, Jayjay? Where’s your grill?”

  Jayjay teeped to BigBox Home Furnishings via one of the virtual ads that hovered overhead. Not that Jayjay generally liked buying new products—it was more Earth-friendly to borrow stuff via the Web. But in this case, it seemed like he might as well get a permanent grill for his homestead. It took only seconds to find the grill he’d visualized, to charge it to his account, and to teek it here, along with some lightweight plates and a picnic table.

  The grill was simple: a heavy-duty wire rack with adjustable legs. Jayjay set it in place, and Nektar appeared from the house, bearing platters of raw steak, chicken, salmon, and pork medallions. Kittie followed, carrying a green salad, a bowl of strawberries, and a potato salad. The men gathered like flies.

  “Dibs on a steak,” said Momotaro.

  “Chicken for me,” said Ond.

  “I’ll have a pork medallion,” Chu told Jayjay. “Don’t let it touch anything else while it cooks.”

  “I would enjoy a piece of the fish,” said Khan.

  “One of each for me,” said Sonic. “Surf and turf and sty and coop.”

  “You’re hungry again after that burrito?” asked Jayjay, drinking from a bottle of champagne and passing it on.

  “Aren’t you?” said Sonic. “We just moved a frikkin’ house! And it’s getting dark and cold. Does your house have lights?”

  “You can just ask the ceiling to glow. It has special paint. But right now, the dark is kind of cozy, don’t you think? And look over there past the trees: a full moon is coming up. Anyway, we’re omnivident, kiq. We can see with our minds.”

  “Like earthworms,” said Sonic, waggling his head. “Sniffle snuff.”

  “You better fix that porch right now,” Jil advised Thuy. “I don’t want anyone to break their leg. And take it easy on that bubbly, Bixie and Momotaro. It’s much stronger than you think.”

  “Let’s fetch a piece of redwood trunk,” said Thuy. “There’s a fallen giant near here. Hey, Kittie and Nektar, can you pitch in?”

  “That sounds a little too lumberjack for me,” said Nektar. “Sawing logs in the dark? More up Lureen’s alley. She’s so butch.”

  “Sure I can help,” said Lureen affably. “I had more sense than to dress all femmie. But the firelight through your skirt makes a nice effect, Nektar. Don’t forget you’re teaching me a lesson tonight.”

  “Oh, you’re awful,” said Nektar, finally giving Lureen a smile.

  “Our clothes don’t matter,” interrupted Thuy. “We’ll use our minds to teek a big block of steps right out of the log. Me, Lureen, Kittie, who else?”

  “Oh, I’ll help, too,” said Nektar, not wanting to be a bad sport.

  “And me,” said Bixie. “Woman power! Let’s stand around the fire like witches.”

  “Hand in hand!” said Jil, completing the thought. “We’ll dance widdershins.” She paused, checking Gaia’s database. “That means counterclockwise.”

  The men were greedily hunkered around the picnic table eating fish and meat. The six women circled the fire, the yellow light flickering on their faces. Teeping as one, the women extracted an immense block from a fallen redwood nearby. A sharp crack sounded as the cellulose molecules broke their bonds with the main mass of the trunk. The women moved the block into place in front of the cottage. With a further round of sharp reports, they carved three pleasantly proportioned steps out of the block, adding the waste pieces to Jayjay’s woodpile. A hefty chunk slid loose and thudded to the ground.

  “Is that a bear?” shrilled Lureen, breaking the trance. “A wild pig?” She leaned against Kittie, laughing. “Maybe we should go back home, honey. I can’t stop thinking about your beautiful mural.”

  “Stick around,” said Nektar. “It’s our turn at the table. I’m really hungry now. Get away from the trough, boys.”

  “Just a second,” said Jayjay, teek-flipping the meat and fish that sizzled on the grill. “It’s not quite done. Have some more champagne.”

  “Getting back to what we were talking about before,” said Ond to Jayjay, waving a chicken bone for emphasis. “You have a point about the whole power industry dying out. So what takes electricity’s place—in terms of something to sell? I’d be glad for some ideas about that.”

  “Outsource your question to Gaia,” suggested Sonic, running his meat-greasy fingers through his long hair.

  “The pighead’s universal solution,” said Jayjay. He didn’t want to talk about business at all. With Sonic here, and with the champagne warmi
ng his veins, he was feeling that old urge to merge into the global mind. Moonlight puddled the table, filtering in through the trees. Maybe in a minute he and Sonic could get high. His heart beat faster as he imagined the rush.

  “Move!” yelled Thuy. “Up, up, up! Our turn!”

  The men dispersed and the women took their places. Jayjay served them their grilled meats and fish fillets. He’d worked really hard lately, and Thuy was being just a little bit annoying. He deserved a break.

  “Yeah you do,” teeped Sonic, who was tuned right in on Jayjay’s flow of thought. “I’m thinking we skulk over to that dark area by the stream.”

  “There’s a nice flat rock we can lie on,” said Jayjay.

  But just then Craigor and Darlene showed up with Darlene’s teenage sister Mabel.

  “About time!” exclaimed Thuy. “Where were you when we were moving the house?”

  Craigor shrugged. “Darlene was reading a metanovel; I was fishing. Looks like the move went fine. You still eating? I brought a fresh cuttlefish.” He presented Jayjay with a chicken-sized squidlike creature. “All gutted and ready to grill.”

  “I’ll put it on,” said Jayjay, wearily. “We’ve still got a little meat, too.”

  “How’s my metanovel doing?” Thuy asked Darlene. Darlene was a kind of publisher, helping to distribute the data files of metanovels. She’d marketed Thuy’s first effort, Wheenk.

  “Great,” said Darlene. “Metanovels are to novels as forty-foot totem poles are to the pocket-sized amulets that Native Americans made before they had steel axes. That’s my new sales slogan.”

  “You could tighten the phrasing,” said Thuy. “But the concept is good. Let me tell you about the sequel I’m working on.”

  “Do you like to surf?” Momotaro asked Mabel meanwhile. “I could take you out tomorrow.”

  “Maybe,” responded the willowy teen. She regarded Momotaro, considering her options. “Is it easy?” She had a slightly detached demeanor, as if life were a show she was watching.

  “Sure,” said Momotaro. “The surfboards can think—and the surfers can teleport. It’s a blast. Even little grommets like Bixie can ride the gnarliest spots.”

  “Well, okay,” said Mabel. “I guess I’d like it.”

  “I might come, too,” put in Thuy, overhearing them. “I could use a day off from thinking about the move.”

  Before Momotaro could answer, Kittie came orbiting into the range of the firelight, disheveled and grinning. “You will not believe who I was just talking to, Thuy!”

  “To Lureen?” said Thuy, not all that interested.

  “No, no,” said Kittie. “To a stranger.”

  “In our woods?” said Jayjay uneasily. “Crap. I hope people aren’t hopping here to harass us.” He didn’t want to get into the possibility that Kittie might have encountered a flying manta ray.

  “It was Hieronymus Bosch,” said Kittie, a thrill running through her voice. “I know it was really and truly him because he let me teep into his mind. I have so many ideas for my paintings now. I wish he would have stayed longer.”

  Jayjay did a quick, anxious scan of the woods. He wasn’t seeing any strangers out there. Nektar and Lureen were sitting on a patch of moss sharing a bottle of champagne. More than likely Kittie was drunk. He peered into her bloodstream. Yes, definitely.

  “Calm down, Kittie,” said Thuy. “You’re talking about—the medieval painter? What you really mean is that you saw, like, some Renaissance Faire type guy wearing a costume, right?”

  “It was Bosch the great painter,” insisted Kittie. “Or the Hibrane version of him. He calls himself Yeroon. I teeped him some of my work. It all happened so fast. And then he said he had to go home. He turned sideways and disappeared. Did I mention that he was thirty feet tall?”

  “That would be a Hibraner, all right,” said Jayjay. Everything was going nuts today. “Did you happen to see any flying manta rays?”

  Kittie didn’t even hear this. She was deep into her recollections of her big encounter with the Hibrane Bosch. “He liked my van painting of the woman and the squid,” she said, smiling. “I teeped it to him. And he showed me how to paint heads running around on two legs. It was like meeting God.”

  “Ah, there you are,” said Lureen, wobbling into the firelight. “Let’s go, Kittie. Nektar’s onboard. We’re having a sleepover at my place.”

  “Fine,” said Kittie, not quite so interested in Lureen as before. “Did you see Yeroon Bosch talking to me? A guy in a velvet hat, thirty feet tall?”

  “You can tell us about it in bed.”

  And then they were gone.

  “Let’s make the fire huge,” said Sonic, lugging over an armload of branches and scraps from the woodpile. The fire leapt up with a fierce exhalation of joy.

  CHAPTER 3

  JAYJAY AND THE BEANSTALK

  The last guests stood around drinking and talking for a while, the trees whispering overhead, the full moon climbing into the sky, the brook babbling away. The party was down to the hard core: Sonic, Jayjay, Thuy, Craigor, and Darlene.

  Thuy’s hair was in messy pigtails, with stray wisps projecting on all sides. Lit by the moonlight, she looked inhumanly beautiful to Jayjay. He would have liked to get her into bed, but she was still talking about metanovels with Darlene. Craigor was passing around his bong.

  Bored and bone-weary, Jayjay decided to slip away for the real high. He and Sonic made their way to the border of the moon-silvered stream and sat on the flat rock together, Sonic sipping at a bottle of champagne he’d brought along.

  “Give us this day our daily rush,” said Sonic. “On the nod as thou art in heaven. Ready?”

  “Hold on,” said Jayjay. It had been a while since he’d gone really deep into Gaia. He’d been a good boy. “I need to get myself together.”

  “So meanwhile let’s game these swirls,” said Sonic, looking down at the stream. For Sonic, all of reality was a video game. “We’ll get into a linked pair of eddies and see how far we can make them go. Like a pair of backs running for a touchdown.”

  They played with the vortices for a while, Gloob joining in, subtly warping his flows to raise the level of the game. But then all of a sudden Gloob focused his turbulence on a particular spot by the opposite bank.

  “Outsider!” teeped the stream silp. “Danger!”

  As part of his ongoing telepathic connection with the hylozoic world, Jayjay had a low-level awareness of the wriggling and scuttling of the insects, protozoa, and bacteria in the damp mulch of vegetation along the stream’s banks. Something was changing.

  A tiny, horned creature—invisible only moments ago—was rapidly increasing his size, growing upward from a clump of moss. Writhing and settling into his new shape, this strange apparition on the dark bank became—how odd—a two-tined pitchfork balancing on his butt end. The pitchfork glowed a dusky shade of red.

  The pitchfork’s handle—or leg—flexed, and his two prongs vibrated, sending out a high, singing buzz that articulated into speech—a male hillbilly voice. “Jayjay,” twanged the pitchfork. “Git high. I’ll take you on the magic beanstalk. My name’s Groovy.”

  The pitchfork gave off a strangely flavored teep signal that echoed his spoken words with an emotive sense he was offering something quite wonderful. “I can lead you clear to infinity.”

  “The silp in that weird forked stick is talking out loud!” exclaimed Sonic, who’d finished off the champagne. “That’s not right, kiq. I say we throw the stick in the fire. See what he says then.”

  With an abrupt series of thumps the pitchfork hopped upstream, crashing through the underbrush. And then all was silent. The curious being had merged into the forest gloom, impossible to teep.

  “He was a talking pitchfork named Groovy,” said Jayjay. “Not a stick.”

  “Country cowfreak,” said Sonic, giggling. “He told us to get high.”

  “Let’s do that,” said Jayjay. “Never mind the rest of it.” Everything was too frikkin’ weird
today. Flying stingrays, a giant medieval painter, and now a talking pitchfork? He needed an out.

  Jayjay and Sonic lay down, joined their minds, and spiraled up toward the piglike blue face of Gaia’s interface.

  “Hi, boys,” said Gaia as they sank into her ultramarine funnels. “Ready for a really good time?”

  The boys swooped and sang, savoring the sensual feel of raw thought—as enhanced by Gaian mind-tendrils.

  Now and then Jayjay felt something pricking at him—prongs? Surely that weird pitchfork wasn’t standing over him beside the stream? He didn’t have the will to leave his trance and find out for sure. If anything, the pitchfork’s prods were nudging him deeper.

  At some point during the night’s long, chaotic journey, Jayjay felt Thuy shaking him and walking him to their now pitiful-seeming honeymoon cabin. Waggish Gaia displayed a relevant archetype: The Groom Drunk on His Wedding Night. Not that Jayjay was truly drunk. In principle, he could snap out of his Gaia trip and be with Thuy right now.

  But he didn’t. That was the addiction thing at work. Once Jayjay got going on a run like this, he found it nearly impossible to stop. He collapsed onto the living room floor and lay motionless, knowing full well there’d be a stiff price to pay. But it was still night. Hours to go. And the flow of time was so deliciously slow. The Groom Drunk on His Wedding Night—what a hoot, what a blast.

  “You’re horrible,” said Thuy, and went to bed.

  Although Sonic was still lying on the rock by the stream, his virtual form hung nearby like a basking whale. “Yo,” he called to Jayjay. “Let’s go farther. Farther than anyone’s ever been. Maybe all the weird critters we saw today are aliens. Maybe we can contact another lazy eight planet.”

  “Yaar.”

  Jayjay and Sonic labored in the unseen world, piling idea upon idea, energy upon energy, working their way high above the surface of the cartoony pig-eared icon that was Mother Earth. But they weren’t getting all that far.