Greegs & Ladders (33 page)

“I guess that doesn't help us out.”

“Maybe it does,” I said. “We both know where
all the garbage from Earth ended up.”

“Garbotron?”

“Exactly. If the Jupiter Museum was
destroyed, than the remnants of it must be lying somewhere on
Garbotron. Maybe a canister of Jupiter's atmosphere has
survived.”

“You really want to go back there after the
horrible time you had looking for that beard?” asked Wilx.

“I know someone who can help us. But we'll
need some incentive. You charter the ship to Garbotron while I go
peruse the deep-storage.”

“Alright,” agreed Wilx, despite having no
idea what I was talking about.

The Resurrection of the Quigg

You never knew what you might find in the
storage section of our impossible ship. During our travels we had
collected many interesting things. I had a few secret items stashed
away. Stuff that was much more interesting than frozen Goat's milk.
One of my rarest objects had come from the Planetglomerate. It was
an intact skeleton of the now extinct Quigg species. We were long
overdo for a resurrection of these incredibly useful creatures.

I carried a small cryogenic tank back to the
bridge and presented the skeleton to Wilx.

“I need you to clone this creature back to
life,” I said.

“What creature?” asked Wilx. “Why?”

“It's a Quigg. It might be the only way to
convince him to help us maneuver Garbotron.”

“Convince who?”

“Milt,” I replied. “You know, that nutty
little fruit fly. We'll present the Quigg as a gift.”

“Right,” said Wilx. “I'll start up the
cloning machine in a minute. First I need to work out some data on
the chalkboard. The machine gets confused when presented with the
genetic makeup of an unfamiliar species.”

Wilx walked over to the chalkboard. The word
MEETS
had already been written in the middle of the board.
Wilx attempted to erase the word, having forgotten it was
permanently etched there.

“Why is the word 'meets' stuck on this
chalkboard?” he asked.

“I invented that chalkboard during my time
on Earth. It's meant to be used in pitch-meetings between
screen-writers and movie-producers. Often writers pitch ideas by
saying is a combination of two other popular movies
.
”

“I understand the concept,” said Wilx.
“Movie-producers wish to invest with minimal amount of risk by
merely reproducing what has already been proven to be a
money-maker.”

“Indeed,” I replied. “I figured if a lot of
people are pitching their movie merely by writing
blank
MEETS
blank
onto a board, then I could at least save
everyone the time from spelling out the word
MEETS
. The
'Something-Meets-Something Chalkboard' was one of my most popular
inventions. It sold thousands of units in Hollywood alone. It was
estimated I shaved hours off the yearly schedules of those who
bought one.”

For someone of Wilx's technological
brilliance, bringing the Quigg back to life ended up being a
surprisingly easy task.

“Why don't we bring extinct species back all
the time?” I asked.

“Because we don't mysteriously happen to
have frozen samples of these hypothetical species on hand.”

“Good point,” I said.

“For the most,” continued Wilx. “If a
species sucks enough at living to go extinct... it's probably for
the best.”

“Another good point,” I said.

“But throughout the Universe, bringing back
species from extinction is a supremely popular activity. There are
entire planets devoted to Extinction Attraction Parks, mostly in
the over-commercialized Zenib Quadrant.”

“Oh, you mean like Jurassic Park.”

“Dinosaurs never existed on Earth, silly.
Rip put them there to test humanity's faith in Giant Lizards.”

The now-living Quigg confusedly examined our
ship. After a few minutes it remembered its purpose and began to
scrub the floors.

“Oh, don't worry about cleaning the ship,” I
said to the Quigg. “Save your energy for Garbotron, you'll need
it.”

The Quigg either didn't hear us, or didn't
understand.

“Might as well let it keep cleaning,” said
Wilx. “The ship could use it.”

“Should we wake up Rip for the Garbotron
ground-mission?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

We defrosted Rip from his cryogenic sleep.
He snapped awake with vigor, showing none of the groggy hangover
effects common after a long sleep.

“So, what are we up to?” he asked. Wilx got
him caught up.

“We're on a mission to find the recently
vanished planet of Jupiter. Krimshaw believes the disappearance has
been caused by the Life-to-Planet Totality Quotient, and that
Jupiter is still intact somewhere in distant space. Our only hope
to find it is to have a sample of its atmosphere for the tracking
beacon. For a time there were samples stored in a museum on Earth,
only the museum was bombed and the remnants were sent to Garbotron.
We're now at Garbotron in hopes of finding a surviving piece of the
atmosphere. We plan on once again asking the fruit fly Milt for
directions, except we plan on actually getting directions this time
by having a bribe in the form of a recently cloned specimen of a
Quigg, the once extinct cleaning species.”

During that rant, Rip had generally only
noticed the word Garbotron.

“We're
there
again?!” he moaned. “Why
did you wake me?”

“Because you might miss something amazing,”
replied Wilx.

“On Garbotron?”

“No, probably not on Garbotron. But later.
If we find Jupiter.”

Garbotron Revisited

We put the Quigg into a cage. Within minutes
the cage had been cleaned to the point where it was blindingly
shiny. With nothing left to clean, the Quigg promptly sat silently
and went into a catatonic meditation. We didn't realize it, but the
Quigg was caught in a serious state between life and death. The
Quigg anatomy requires the act of cleaning to keep itself alive.
Its cellular structure began to break down as soon as every square
inch of accessible surface had been polished and sterilized. But
this new Quigg was fighting to break through to the next logical
phase in evolution. Had the creature been given a longer life-span
and a more rapid method of procreation, it would have eventually
spawned a new species of Quigg capable of not only cleaning things
but also of dirtying things, allowing themselves to always stay
alive, even if only to be caught up in a ridiculous loop of
cleaning, dirtying, cleaning, dirtying, and so on.

It was not difficult to find Milt, for his
swath of clean land known as the Oviform had substantially
expanded. He had been busy at work. I made sure Wilx parked the
ship at least a mile away from the edge of the Oviform, so that we
did not stir up any contaminants. From there we walked.

Of course we couldn't see Milt anywhere, so
we had to just walk around shouting out his name. Soon I spotted
his tiny fluttering a few feet in front of me.

“What are you doing back here?” he asked
irritably in his ridiculously shrill voice. “You musn't contaminate
the Oviform! Musn't! Stand back!”

“We promise not to make a mess,” I said to
Milt. “We plan on staying for as little time as possible.”

“But why are you here?” he asked. “There is
nothing you can do here other than ruin my work. You are part of
the slovenly species who did this.”

“We're looking for something,” I explained.
“Something that might be important. This isn't for our own personal
gain like the Beard of Broog. We're looking for something that
might help save an entire planet.”

“Continue,” said Milt. The planet-saving bit
had sparked his interest.

“A planet has vanished, we think due to
Life-to-Planet Totality Quotient. In order to find the planet we
must have some of its atmosphere for our tracking beacon. During
your tireless and selfless work on this world, have you ever seen
anything pertaining to the planet Jupiter? We are looking for the
remnants of a museum.”

“I might have seen some stuff labeled
Jupiter,” said Milt absently.

“Where?”

“I've already given you a map of the planet.
If I've seen it, I've marked it on the map.”

“But we can't read the maps,” I said. “Even
the magnifying glass did nothing to help.”

“Surely you have computers on your
space-craft that could enhance the image?”

“We do, but we don't have a map anymore.
Could we have a new one please?” I asked.

“I only have my one copy left and I'm not
willing to loan it out,” said Milt.

“Then could you just take us there? That
would be easier.”

“Yes it would,” said Milt. “Easier for you
anyway. But I'm afraid I don't have the time. I've got a lot of
work to do.”

“It won't take that long,” I said. “We don't
have to walk. We have a ship.”

“Look, I just don't want to help you,” said
Milt in a surprisingly stern tone for such a shrill voice.

“What if we could help you in return?” I
asked.

“How could you possibly help me? Your mere
presence damages the atmosphere. The exhalation of your breath is a
veritable explosion of toxic carbon-compounds. A minutes worth of
your breath sets me back a week of work.”

“What if we gave you something that every
minute
saved
you a
month
of work.”

“Impossible,” said Milt. “There is no
cleaning machine that powerful.”

“Machine, no. But there is a life-form that
powerful. They're called Quiggs.”

“A Quigg?” asked Milt. He had read about
them many times, always believing them to be mythical. “Quiggs
aren't real. I've always wished they were, but they aren't.”

“They
were
real. But they went
extinct. We've managed to clone one from a long dormant tissue
sample. Weren't we just talking about
Jurassic Park
?
Nevermind. The point is, we'll give you a Quigg if you help us. You
have no idea what this creature can do for the planet. You'll be
retired in no time.”

“Let me see it,” said Milt.

I produced the cage. Since we'd stepped off
the ship the Quigg had been wide awake and going crazy with the
smell of garbage. We opened the cage-door and the Quigg came
rolling out.

“Wow,” said Milt as he noticed it had
brushes, scrubbers and buffers where there should have been arms,
legs and feet.

The Quigg seemed to be going into a spastic
fit at the sight and smell of so much garbage. It could not handle
the overload of filth. It began shaking so intensely it looked as
if it was about to implode. Then the strangest yet most appropriate
thing happened. The Quigg split into two Quiggs. It seems one look
at Garbotron was enough to set the evolution of the Quigg back in
full motion. There was no time for cloning or intercourse. More
Quiggs were needed so badly that the sole member of one of the most
useful species in existence was at once granted the power of
instant replication. Within a few minutes there were half a dozen
Quiggs hard at work.

“Amazing!” beamed Milt. “Sensational!
Legendary! It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!”

“Enough for us to deserve your help?” I
asked.

“Yes, yes, I'll help you find this Jupiter
sample,” said Milt as the Quiggs continued to multiply. “Although
that might be a problem. At the rate they're replicating and
cleaning, we're likely to not find anything! I know where the
Jupiter Museum is. It's not far, just across the swamp.”

Milt hurriedly directed us through a complex
maze that we never would have been able to traverse without his
expert help. At last we caught sight of a charred shell of a
building with a sign that read
JUPITER MUSEUM NOW OPEN
.

“The building is still somewhat intact,”
noticed Wilx. “Didn't you say it was bombed?”

“I thought it was,” I said. “It must have
just been a fire. It's hard to remember everything when you're
immortal.”

“Too true,” agreed Rip.

“Let's start looking,” said Wilx. “Everyone
take a different wing of the Museum. Don't fall through any burnt
floorboards!”

We walked towards the entrance of the
museum.

“Do you mind if I push off now?” asked Milt.
“I'm curious to get back to the Oviform and check on the progress
of the Quiggs.”

“Go ahead, we should be fine here,” I
said.

“Thank you again for the gift you have
bestowed upon this troubled planet,” he said as he flew back to the
Oviform.

Something Excellent

Afters hours of sifting through the rubble,
it was Wilx who finally found an uninjured sample of Jupiter. He
had always been the best at finding things.

“Here it is!” he shouted exuberantly. “I
found it!”

He held out a clear cylinder.

“It's made of glass,” I said. “Amazing it
hasn't shattered after all these years.”

“It can't shatter,” said Wilx, reading the
fine print on the bottom of the container. “It's made of
unbreakable Jardian mega-prisms.”

“I think we proved that Jardian mega-prisms
aren't unbreakable with the whole Chalkboard of Elbereth scenario,”
stated Rip.

“Right.
Nearly
unbreakable Jardian
Mega-prisms,” corrected Wilx.

We gathered around the sample. Brownish-red
gaseous vapor mixed with itself in an amazingly psychedelic
way.

“It's so... hypnotizing,” drooled Rip as he
grabbed the container and unscrewed the cap.

“What are you doing?!” shouted Wilx. “You'll
let it escape!”

Rip proceeded to drink the entire contents
of the Jupiter sample. We then had one of our typical moments of
silence as we contemplated Rip's insane decisions.

First he bubbled out his ears. Then his
pupils crazily swirled like black ink diffusing in a saucer-f of
curdled milk. He began to rant about ridiculous prophecies that he
thought were being channeled to him from the missing entities of
Jupiter.