MadSpace: Book I

Croodles stopped his spinning and looked up at the old man, grunting testily. Bester noticed something different about the little fellow this time.

His head was flattening!

Bester rubbed his eyes, as if it might clear up the illusion. But the illusion was real, and as real illusions went, this one was pretty distracting. The little thing’s head was indeed flatter than it had been and was growing flatter by the second. It screamed out something that sounded like, “Help!”

Noticing it, the old man sprang to action. “Oh!”

He bent down to the little thing and stuck the end of his pipe to the top of the monkey’s head.

“His head has a membrane rupture,” reported Querd with concern in his voice.  “He can’t keep his head inflated. They don’t have skulls, you know. I have to keep it pumped for him. If I don’t, he goes flat as a board quicker than you can bend over and kiss your own—oops, sorry,” he blushed. “You got a lady friend with you. I usually don’t talk that way in front of ladies, but my mama always talked that way around me.”

He pushed a trigger and with a whoosh, the pipe fed air into the monkey’s little head. The tiny noggin expanded itself to full size again, and Croodles grunted something pleasant in response. Querd patted it on the head and arose, looking back at the others.

Bester could not believe what he was seeing. The little monkey waddled back to a corner, grabbed some tools and waddled out of the room, grunting like a pig as it went. Querd looked back at Bester.

“Little thing. If I didn’t keep a close look at him, he’d be flat as a pancake before you know it. It’s worse now than it’s ever been. Have to do this all the time now. Need to get his head plugged, I guess. Just don’t have the money right now. My friend down the street lost one like him this way. Found him sprawled out on the floor, head as flat as paper. Now what can I do for you?”

Bester took it all in before speaking. He couldn’t believe it and tried to keep from laughing. Valoria, as usual, was withdrawn and silent, her face tightened with uncertainty.

“I need to communicate with the Slade space port of Secondasia. And about that passage...”

“Can’t do it on the first part, that is,” Querd interrupted abruptly. “Deep space network’s down for repairs, and I can’t get Croodles on it until we get the parts from the company that makes ‘em.”

He began cleaning some electronic device with a cleaning towel. Bester looked as if he had just discovered a toe missing.

“You mean I can’t get a message out at all?”

“A local one, yes, but not a long-range one. Sorry. Hopefully we’ll get it up in a month or two. If you’re still here, check back with me then,” the old man offered, his towel busy cleaning the grime out of some small piece of transmitter.

Bester was beside himself. Somehow, though, it figured. This city held no surprises if you thought of it as complete waste. He should have known.

“And if the company that manufacturers the parts still getting’ attacked by the Votor zilzbauchers,” Querd continued his story, “then I suspect we won’t be getting’ it fixed no time soon, then will we?”

“They’re what? Under attack?” asked a befuddled Bester.

“Attacked...The Votor zilzbauchers hitting them hard for some reasons...I don’t know why. Has something to do with delayed shipment, bad collection records, something like that. The Votor must have ordered something and not sent in the bill or something like that... Now that I think of it, the company might have sent out one of those nasty little collection letters informing ‘em that one of those funny little lawyers was coming’ to see ‘em or something. I imagine he got himself all blown up! The Votor zilzbauchers, they don’t like that much. I don’t know...Seems like to me that the company would have known the Votor don’t use our money...Sounds like a cover-up to me! Of course them Votor zilzbauchers, they got it in for ‘em because they don’t like their advertisement slogans and all...something about every Votor mother needing one, or something like that. Damn shame if you ask me.”  He then blushed again. “Oops, sorry… I keep forgetting’ your lady friend. Damn me. Oops…”

Bester stood opened-jawed. He didn’t know what to say. “You’re telling me the company is under siege?”

“But it don’t make no difference to me and Croodles,” continued Querd, somewhat embarrassed from his forgetful bouts of profanity. “We can’t get crap done without the part, and that ain’t going to happen until the company ain’t under attack no more...you know, with the Votor zilzbauchers and all. Something about a-”