Greegs & Ladders (30 page)

“Who's sick of
this cave?” yelled someone from the population. “Who doesn't want
their organs to boil this afternoon?”

The crowd was
in agreement.

“Who has ever
wondered what's out there? You've all heard the stories of the
Grimbat messengers. You've seen their episodic shadow-puppet
re-enactments of the exciting bits.”

“My favorite
episode is the one where the Glurj child fell into a schmold
pit.”

“They were all
good, but the point is, why don't we go watch some of these Greegs
fall into schmold pits on our own time? Have you heard of this
schmold television thing? You don't need to do shadow-puppets at
all.”

This was one
of the hottest days in the history of the Planetglomerate. The risk
of boiled organs within the oven-like Klaxworm home was at a record
high. Some rudimentary survival twitch must have finally kicked in,
for the Klaxworms were rallied and ready to get out of the death
trap and see the Planetglomerate they had only heard about. They
had been told about the majestic polished marble floors glinting
forever into the sunset-tinged horizon, but what exactly was a
marble floor anyway? There was no experience. No frame of reference
with which to enjoy the stories. Klaxworms needed to see the sights
and feel the land for themselves, if their lives were to have any
validity.

They left the
cave in droves. Aside from the few squished trample victims, the
rest went immediately blind from the first-ever exposure to
sunlight. All were unprepared.

Glassvexx

While the
Klaxworms were making their historical first step, Wilx was
chartering our ship for a foolish mission.

“Where are we
going?” I asked.

“I thought
we'd check up on those drug dealers from Glassvexx,” said Wilx.
“See if we can get in on their racket.”

“Their
racket?”

“A racket is a
less encouraged yet infinitely faster way of making money. The term
was coined by humans, you should know these things.”

“I know what a
racket is. Weren't you listening to the drug dealers at all? They
don't want outside help. Fralgoth was blasted with a laser cannon
for trying to intrude on their racket.”

“What racket?”
asked Rip as he crawled into the room, still incapacitated from the
sickness of the fermented Crabbit liqueur.

“The racket of
the drug dealers from Glassvexx,” said Wilx. “We're on our way to
claim a share of their lucrative Sativa.”

“Excellent,”
groaned Rip. “Be right back,” he added as he crawled off to go puke
in solitude. You couldn't hear the enthusiasm in his death-like
speech, but you knew it was there. Rip would never let a severe
poisoning detract from the prospect of a lucrative racket.

“I don't think
we should go to Glassvexx,” I urged.

“We're already
there.”

“Really?”

“This ship is
way faster than our last one.”

The planet
Glassvexx did not come into existence through the usual manner of
physics randomly hurling a bunch of rocks and dust together. It was
crafted out of glass, an invention of the ancient Yoloronians. They
were a race of beings infinitely wise and yet ultimately stupid.
Many had questioned their vast intellect from the get-go, saying
that only a foolish race would make a planet-sized piece of glass.
Logic suggests the only assured known outcome of building a
planet-sized piece of glass is that it will one day shatter into
many smaller pieces. Dangerous pieces that hurtle freely through
space. Something will one day collide with and break the planet.
This is inevitable. The Yoloronians declared Glassvexx unbreakable
and built her anyway. The fact that they did this means they were
at least brilliant with technology, if not as adept at using it to
avoid apocalyptic outcomes.

Once made,
Glassvexx was still not a planet, for it could not sustain life,
and had no atmosphere or orbital pattern. The Yoloronians needed
these things if they were to call their planet a planet. They
succeeded.

First,
Glassvexx was put on the Planetary Waiting List. Finally it was
granted an orbital permit for somewhere in the great system of
Herb. For the problem of atmosphere and life, thousands of
greenhouses and boxes filled with dirt were shipped in and placed
around the planet. Grown within these boxes were food for colonists
and oxygen-generating bushels for the future generations who
inhabit Glassvexx. After a few million years of time allowed for
the oxygen-creating bushels to take effect, Glassvexx was at last
ready to sustain life.

Over that few
millions years of time, many of the plants being grown in the
greenhouses evolved into certain psychotropic plants like the
aforementioned Luminesco-Cannabid-Sativa. The colonists stationed
to live on Glassvexx during the transitional period, the ones who
had created the original strain of sativa, had evolved to rejoice
in the growing of mind-altering plants. Tending to the plants was
the colonists only job on the barren planet, so naturally they
looked for entertainment within the plants. In the early days, the
textbook chapters on psychotropic herbs were studied with
fascination. Soon enough their curiosity led to the successful
experimentation of seedlings. Today, the planet is covered with
mountainous regions of wild growth, for the plants long since
escaped the controlled greenhouses. Enough rock and dirt and ice
and other mountain-forming resources were shipped in to layer the
entire planet with a natural terrain that sustains the life of
plants. The actual glass surface of the planet was no longer
visible from anywhere at all. Some go looking for the famous glass
planet and believe themselves to be lost, having found only a
mountainous earthy planet covered with time-warping plants.

“Look at all
the sativa!” exalted Wilx. “They'll never even know we were here.
All we have to do is send some of those specimen-collecting pods
down to the surface. I'll program all the pods to scoop up as much
of the wild sativa as they can. Then we'll take the sativa to some
faraway dimension and make a 200% profit increase.”

“I guess that
isn't as foolish as I imagined,” I said.

“No worries,”
said Wilx.

“Have we taken
the planet yet?” asked Rip, crawling back into the room.

“We're not
here to take the planet,” said Wilx. “We're here to pinch some
unnoticed profits without any notice. Engaging our cloaking device.
Sending out the specimen-collecting pods now.”

We all watched
as the entirety of the pods drifted quietly to the surface of
Glassvexx. After a short amount of time the pods returned. Wilx
claimed each of them was filled with enough Sativa to buy at least
a hemisphere of a planet.

As we
attempted our prompt getaway, we heard something terrible. It was
the arrival of many war-ships intent on the destruction of the
planet.

These
war-ships belonged to the extended corporate family of Fralgoth,
and they were here to have their revenge on the drug farmers of
Glassvexx.

“We should
probably go,” said Rip.

“Yeah,” we
agreed.

But Wilx
didn't move the ship. All of us were suddenly entranced by what was
going on. We had noticed many of the war-ships were collectively
holding up some sort of massive, flat, square object. It seemed to
go on for miles, requiring hundreds of high-intensity cables
distributing the weight between 79 complete fleets of
war-ships.

“Is
that--”

“The
Chalkboard of Elbereth?” asked Wilx. “Yes. Yes it is.”

“Why is it
here?”

“Stolen, it
seems.”

“Who would
want that?” I asked.

“The
Chalkboard of Elbereth is possibly the most devastating weapon ever
made. To scratch the board causes unknown levels of damage. Some
suggest the piercing sound made by the scratched chalkboard, if
scratched with the right tool, could cause a space-quake powerful
enough to tear the separation between dimensions to shreds. Spacial
gateways to undesirable locations would loom above the skies of all
planets. I don't buy into this theory as much, but it's possible.
One thing is known; when you scratch the chalkboard, you go deaf
and most things explode. I'm curious to see what happens to a
planet made of glass.”

“Maybe they
won't scratch it,” said Rip. “Maybe it's just a threat.”

“I say they do
it,” said Wilx.

“Care to
wager?”

“How
much?”

“Your share of
the sativa?

“Deal.”

“Look,” I
said. “I think they're about to scratch the board.”

As I pointed
out the window, seconds after Rip made his losing wager, many
giant-metal claws were being positioned against the board by an
additional 20 fleets of war-ships. It was to be an apocalyptic
orchestra of chalkboard scratching.

“We should
go.”

“Starting to
think you're right,” agreed Wilx.

“We'll call
the bet a tie.”

“Wait a
minute, I still win the bet,” argued Wilx. “They're clearly about
to the scratch the chalkboard.”

“But if we
leave, there's no proof,” said Rip.

“We'll have to
stay and watch then.”

At this point
we all put our earplugs in.

The war-ships
made no final announcement to the citizens of Glassvexx.

The board was
scratched.

The reaction
was not instantaneous. For a minute no sound at all emerged from
the scratching of the claws. The ancient chalkboard needed time to
muster up such horrific sounds from the depths of its essence. All
at once the piercing sound slapped the entire galaxy with a
staggering shock-wave. Most of the nearby planets suffered some
minor level of damage, but the primary destructive force of the
chalkboard was being aimed at Glassvess by the harnessing powers of
the devastatingly precise Sound-Board of Gorgolosh.

The glass-core
of the planet did not shatter right away. The sound-wave was
absorbed and echoed, first causing all the terrain, mountains and
sativa to crumble and fall from the surface. The remaining
war-ships not involved with the scratching of the board were
equipped with tractor-funnels for collecting the sativa-rich land
before it was lost.

After
all the land was shaken off, the glass-sphere was shown to still be
in perfect condition. We all had the same thought:
Had a planet made
of glass actually survived the scratching of The Chalkboard of
Elbereth?
No, of course
not. The sight of the intact sphere lasted for only a few seconds
(most people missed it entirely) before it shattered,
sending millions of shards of
formerly unbreakable Jardian mega-glass hurtling into the cosmos.
Some of these shards would continue hurtling through space for the
remainder of infinity, others had a very short trip to the surface
of the Planetglomerate.

Life is
Random

“Everybody
stay still!” shouted the now blind leader of the Klaxworms. “We
shouldn't move too fast.”

“Do you see
that?” shouted a voice from the crowd.

“See what?
Most of us are blind.”

“There's
something falling from the sky. A big chunk of something
translucent.”

“Really?”

“Must be part
of the weather around here.”

“The Grimbat
messengers never mentioned weather involving falling chunks of
something translucent.”

“There's
probably a lot they didn't mention. Look how crazy this place
is!”

“I can't look!
I'm blind!”

“The falling
thing is getting closer.”

The few
Klaxworms who still had vision were looking up at the falling chunk
of Glassvexx. They were completely oblivious as to what was about
to happen to them in a matter of seconds.

“Everyone
follow me, we've got a lot to do.”

The droves of
Klaxworms began to explore the planet. The chunk of Glassvexx
(which was the size of a couple skyscrapers) landed square on the
entirety of their population. Not one survived to carry on the
species. That was it. Done.

Although
forever gone, and never even known while they were here, Klaxworms
are not forgotten. They continue to make their mark on the
collective consciousness of the universe. Their story became a
popular piece of entertaining folklore. Except as if told through a
silly game of Telephone, the Klaxworm story grew inaccurate as it
was passed along between planets. The drug-related circumstances of
the destruction of Glassvexx garbled the story into suggesting that
drugs and Klaxworms were in direct connection with each other. Most
versions relate the Klaxworms as the drug overlords who were
collectively assassinated after venturing out of their hide-out. It
is now a popular cautionary story that overprotective parents use
to coerce their children into staying at home, as if to say:

“Don't do
drugs and leave home... or you will die.”

Revenge

I was saddened
deeply when I learned the fate of the Klaxworms. I learned the fate
of the Klaxworms in a matter of seconds after the scratching of the
Chalkboard of Elbereth shattered Glassvexx. As soon as the
seemingly unbreakable Jardian glass shrapnel began flying through
space, a giant shard narrowly missed our ship and rocketed
forcefully into space.

“Hmm,” said
Wilx, “If my calculations are correct, that giant piece is headed
straight for the planetglomerate.”

“Where?” I
asked, genuinely curious.

Wilx showed me
on his computer the location where the shard would strike... it was
directly on the cave of the Klaxworms. I demanded we go to the
Planetglomerate at impossible speeds and try to save them from
extermination. I cared not if every Greeg and Grimbat was wiped
out. I cared only for the Klaxworms. We arrived at the
Planetglomerate just in time for me to see that the Klaxworms were
leaving their cave in droves; for Wilx to inform me that his
calculations were off by a tad and the shard was now headed for
right outside the caves where they were all headed; and for me to
shout “No! Go back in the cave, there's a giant flying shard of a
recently exploded nearby glass planet coming right for you!”