The Neo-Spartans: Altered World (4 page)

It was the laugh that brought Nico out of his safe place. It may have been phony, but there was something reassuring about a laugh like that, even coming from a dangerous source like Julius.

As Nico came into view the men broke off the embrace and Grisner reached for the weapon in his waistband.

“He comes in peace,” said Julius. “Grisner, this is Nico.”

“Mmmmph. Let’s get on with this, shall we?” And with that Grisner pushed up the stairs and inside.

Eyes adjusting to the light, Nico watched Grisner carve his way through another mass of folks lining the corridors and rooms. “Who are all these people, Julius? Every time I come here there are more of them,” growled Grisner as a kid carrying a kitten slid past him.

              “Every day more people find the value of life down here more appealing. Where they gonna go? They come to Julius because they know they’ll be treated like family,” said Julius.

              “Right, family… family that pays tribute,” responded Grisner.

              “Want a successful district? Run it like a business,” said Julius as he gestured Grisner to a den area, decorated as a kind of Turkish hookah palace, with long couches covered in colorful cloth. Julius guided Grisner onto the comfort of a divan as he himself settled like an emir onto a large pillowed chair. Grisner felt about as comfortable as a bear in a closet and slid his feet onto the floor. Nico hovered at the doorway.

              “You, closer,” said Grisner, looking at him for the first time. “Do you know why you’re here?”

              Nico ventured deeper into the room. “Sure. Julius asked me to come.”

              Grisner glanced at Julius. “Is he this dumb or is he just playing at it? Get over here, let me get a better look.” Nico ambled over so that Grisner could size him up. “Tough guy, huh? You’re the one with the circus.”

              “Fight club. At your pleasure, of course, your honor,” Nico responded with as much authenticity as he could muster.

              “Don’t give me that crap. I’m nobody’s honor, smart guy. Save your wits for the assignment at hand.”

              “What is the assignment at hand?” asked Julius, as much to cool things off as to learn the purpose of this meeting.

              “We’re increasing our intake of Neo-Spartan boys. We need ten in the next three weeks. Not all at once, it has to look like garden-variety big city crime.”

              Julius rolled it around in his mind, peering into the meaning of the order and finding box after box, like a Chinese puzzle. At length, his face darkened. “Neo-Spartan kids?” he said. “This ain’t no garden-variety big city crime. Looks more like a personal vendetta…”

              “You know better,” Grisner said crisply.

              “Does that mean my number is getting closer?” asked Julius.

              “You do this right and maybe you can jump ahead in the line,” growled Grisner.

              “As tempting as this is, we’re not talking about stealing money or burning crops, we’re talking about taking peoples’ kids, disrupting families. You mess with that, people tend to retaliate. You of all people should know what that leads to.”

              Nico could see the vein pulsing on Grisner’s neck. He vibrated with anger.

              “Family is a soft spot. A weakness,” said Grisner.

              “No, no, don’t you deny the value. Family is comfort and power.”

              Grisner entertained this concept a moment. “Let me tell you my idea of comfort and power. I let you roam the streets of the Sanctuary like they’re your own. But I can change
that with a snap of my fingers. If that’s what you want.”

              “I don’t want to change nothin’ in our business. But this, what you’re askin’, is something else,” responded Julius. “I know you work for very powerful people, but I’ll need some assurances.”

              “We’re gonna help this kid and his… team,” said Grisner. “Social Defense Forces will do the reconnaissance from now on. We will clear the area and make it possible for this boy and his circus to kidnap and deliver. No need for him to get creative and or take any initiative.”

              Nico quickly calculated how this added up for him. “So we increase the kidnapping frequency by ten? What if something goes wrong? Will you back us up?”

              “Julius and you will be paid handsomely.”

              “Yeah, but–”

              “This is coming from the highest levels of government. You want to quibble, Julius will find someone else,” said Grisner coolly.

              Julius connected the dots of what he was hearing, “Is this as urgent as it sounds?”

              Grisner nodded darkly.

              “Are the people on the list still cool?” asked Julius, rising.

              “For the moment they are. But if it goes south, it goes south for everyone,” said Grisner.

              Nico looked from one to the other. “List?” he said.

              “You just do what the man asked and we all be cool,” said Julius.

CHAPTER FIVE

              The city outline was melting away in the haze of the cheddar cheese sky. The belt of urban neglect gave way to barren land. Wind picked up eroded dust and whirled it around until it dissolved into the permanent gaseous layer of smog and toxic spray clouds. A group of students, led by Kilbert, advanced though this bleak terrain, all carrying various tilling tools, bags of seeds and water containers. The wind picked up again and tore patches of smog away, allowing the delineation of a forest to emerge in the near distance. Some of the younger students clustered with trepidation around Kilbert. Quinn watched as he patted each individual head, giving the kids reassurance. She remembered well the first time she had been taken to the “Triffid Forest.” It was the scariest yet most thrilling adventure she’d ever had. The giant tree-like plants that hissed and moved like predators, the eerie sensation that they could read your mind and respond to every thought and intention, and the helpless awe you felt when you realized you were at these magnificent creatures’ mercy. Kilbert didn’t like the kids calling it the Triffid Forest, but he let the name stick. Years ago a bunch of students had named this unusual jungle, a couple of miles outside the city, after an old sci-fi book about man-eating plants. Kilbert disagreed with this negative allusion. The jungle was not a monster that came into existence for the sole purpose of destroying us. It was Earth’s natural and rather miraculous response to the detrimental practices of people. He thought of it as a hopeful wonder, a key to our survival. He believed the forest appeared for a reason, to teach us how to communicate with nature. The forest was a good but stern teacher. It was merciless when we ignored its lessons and quite generous when we listened and followed its signs.

              When it first appeared as a small grove of strange plants, the government tried to eradicate it by spraying it with potent Eugenics pesticides. To their shock, the grove doubled its territory and the plants increased in size. Troops were sent to physically remove the dangerous weeds, but they were swiftly dealt with: the towering plants spewed a self-protecting virulent fluid with a nasty, corrosive effect. Skin and flesh were eaten through and significant casualties were inflicted. The incident caused an outrage. The Eugenics’ way of life was threatened. There were voices trying to pin it on the Neo-Spartans, but that seemed preposterous to even the worst of the hate-mongers. So without looking for further explanation the city engaged in a bizarre warfare with the carnivorous flora. They tried to burn it with napalm, they sent tanks to level it to the ground, and they bombed it with every chemical weapon in their arsenal. And they lost. With every hostile attempt the forest got bigger and the plants more aggressive. It reached the size of a vast jungle that was spewing its own noxious gases at the city, gradually poisoning it. Whatever the Eugenics assaulted it with, the plants managed to pay back. Life was beyond perilous.

For the first time, the Eugenics crossed their strict social boundary and turned to the Neo-Spartans for advice. What were they to do with the jungle? The answer didn’t really satisfy them. Doing nothing, letting the forest alone, went against the grain of the Eugenics, but they had to follow the Neo-Spartans’ recommendation. And as little as they liked to admit it, it worked. It was like a cease-fire agreement; the city terminated the constant onslaught on the jungle and the plants were instantly pacified. No more poison spewing, no more horror stories of vanished or disfigured people. The forest was still a thorn in the flesh of Eugenics society, but it became the greatest discovery for the Neo-Spartans.

A few, Kilbert among them, saw the bigger picture in this conflict. The forest had responded to aggression with aggression. It was protecting something, and Kilbert was determined to find out what. He was also bent on figuring out how the forest would react to benevolent human intent. He moved to the periphery of the jungle and patiently watched its behavior. He soon discovered that these amazing plant forms were more sophisticated than anything he had studied so far. Their sensory systems were so developed that they were capable of picking up people’s emotions. Just like wild animals, they could sense our fear and mistrust, our acceptance and reverence to what they were, or our hostility and destructive intent. And just like wild animals they responded accordingly. It was touch and go in the beginning as Kilbert tried to suppress his primal instincts and surrender himself to the mercy of these unpredictable life forms. Fear would take the upper hand at the least convenient moment, and those green giants would whip and lash him with their tendrils, leaving painful lacerations on his skin as a reminder of his misstep. And on a really bad day, when frustration and foul mood would creep back into him and try to dominate, the whole place would churn and hiss and threaten to erupt with poisons. It taught Kilbert how to be patient and ultimately how to be a much better man.

The day the jungle finally let him in had a special place in his heart and mind. He had walked among the giant plants not scared but happier than ever and they had revealed their secret. Among the towering carnivorous Triffids, Kilbert had spotted patches of growth he recognized well: the wild ancestors of most of our edible plants. His heart had skipped a beat with excitement. There was hope for the Neo-Spartans—Earth was fighting back. When he returned to the community to tell them of this amazing discovery, people proclaimed him a Magi, a Great One who had communed with the forest, but he rebuffed such claims as silly. Instead he started teaching them what he had learned: the universal language of nature, the language of respect and acceptance among living beings—a language we are born with but so quickly forget. His endeavor was truly visionary. Teaching the Neo-Spartans how to be one with the wild forest was giving them the gift of life. This wondrous place was a source of untainted food and a perfect protection from anybody who wanted to harm them.

              The group arrived at the edge of the jungle. Everybody, even the older students who had made many trips to it already, looked up to marvel at the unusual size and shapes of the plants. Mossy, bearded trunks waved and wiggled their multiple tendrils like some giant upright millipedes. Ten-foot-high bushes turned their brightly colored tubular flowers toward the group for inspection. The younger ones retreated toward the edge of the group. In an instant the trees seemed to withdraw, some of the giant tentacles coiled up, giving the impression the forest had got a haircut. Kilbert noticed that and tried to calm down his students.

              “Don’t be afraid. They are not going to harm you. But they can sense your fear. If you don’t trust them they’re not going to trust you.” He gathered the youngsters around him.

              “Close your eyes and hold on to me.” Like barnacles, the kids covered Kilbert, grabbing his hands or legs or any available part of his clothing. “Take a deep breath and clear your mind. We’ve trained for this, it is easy.”

              Reassured by his serenity or just by the fact that Kilbert was Kilbert, the kids relaxed. Their tense bodies loosened and reminded Quinn of lazy lemurs. And on cue the forest went into a lull too: tentacles uncoiled, ferns and their spiky leaves became droopy. With a slight movement of his head Kilbert motioned everybody to follow him. The students filed into the forest like a solemn procession into a temple. They trod lightly on the fern covered ground of the jungle, careful not to destroy anything. Their tentative moves gradually became more assured and gained a rhythm, the rhythm of the forest as it set the pace of its guests. There was a sense of wonder as little hands touched fleshy leaves, and glances fluttered and landed on buds drenched in magenta and iridescent blue. Kilbert stopped near a cluster of palm-like trees, around whose trunks out-of-control ferns had taken over the ground. Kilbert knelt in front of them and stood there for a while, as if talking to them in his mind. He reached out to the ferns and touched them. They became alive, stems and leaves retracting and regrouping, to reveal to the astonished students a cluster of what they recognized as onions. Subdued “ohs” and “ahs” went over the group. Kilbert looked at the kids and smiled.