Tynasian Dreams

presents

Looking After the Pennies

Pennies is my oldest short story.  I guess that also makes it the first.  It came about when I was at school in the 70's and a new magazine called Omni hit the shelves.  It ran a competition for a 500 word short story.  The original Pennies was born from a desire to enter.  I never did.  Some time back I dusted it off and updated it.  Here's the latest (please note I don't say the last) version. 

The Denarii lived a simple life on the shores of a wide river. Their small tribal settlement consisted of only a few rudimentary mud huts that were thatched with the fronds cut from nearby trees. To survive they hunted in the thick, lush jungle that surrounded them, or caught fish either by wading out into the sluggish waters with long spears, or by casting rough woven nets from primitive boats. They lived their life in harmony with the land and in celebration of their gods.

At the centre of the village stood a strange building. It was constructed of stone rather than mud and was roofed with slate rather than leaves. It had stood just as it did now for as long as the oral tradition of the tribe could recall and was a place of sanctity. There those who were gifted were placed so that they might learn and develop their skills.

Sometimes the house stood empty for generations, but every now and then a child would be born who was different. Imbued with an intellectual and creative mind these children were exalted above all others and seen as a blessing from the gods. They would be excused from all the normal duties of the children, would be given the choicest cuts of meat and the most succulent fish. This ensured that their minds were given time to meditate and for this reason they were known as ‘Thinkers’.

When a ‘Thinker’ came close to reaching their twentieth birthday the tribe would begin a time of celebration for it usually meant that a ‘Seeker’ would soon arrive in the village. These were strange, enigmatic wanderers whose sole purpose was to find ‘Thinkers’ and to deliver them into Paradise.

Galan was a ‘Thinker’, he sat alone on the small paved area outside the stone building and whittled at a stick with a bone knife. It was a hot, sultry day and his head ached with ideas. In his dreams he saw strange things and these he would record, as tradition dictated, on the smooth, white interior using whatever techniques he might devise. If people visited, as they so often did, he would try to make them understand what the drawing meant, but it proved a thankless task as none of his fellow Denarii could even come close to a glimpse of an understanding.

Around him the village thrived with life as the preparations for his twentieth birthday continued but all of a sudden these stilled and a hush fell over the clearing. Galan looked up to see a stranger standing at the edge of the jungle. His skin was blacker than ebony and his teeth as white as ivory. On his head he wore a complex head-dress made from animal skins and stained with pigments. In his right hand he carried a long staff that was topped with a shapeless lump of gold. It was a ‘Seeker’ and Galan knew then that his time had come.

The ‘Seeker’ entered the village, showing no reaction as the tribal elders approached, bowing low to the ground and offering up gifts that had been prepared for him. He walked slowly yet with great majesty over the beaten earth towards the small paved area where Galan sat cross-legged on the ground. He came to a halt before the boy and studied him silently for a long time. Just for an instant Galan forgot himself and looked up into the ‘Seekers’ eyes but then he remembered his lessons and bowed his head once more, concentrating on the complex patterns that adorned the slabs and put yet more ideas into his already overloaded head. Fear touched him for just a second when he thought of the punishment that would be delivered upon him by his people should he offend the ‘Seeker’, but the moment passed and after a while the man lowered himself to his haunches and lifted his head with the tip of his staff. He studied Galan’s face until the youth thought his jaw would break from the pressure of the lump of gold that bit into his flesh and kept his head held at an un-natural angle.

After what seemed like an eternity the ‘Seeker’ nodded and lowered his staff, letting Galan’s head loll down. Rising once more the ‘Seeker’ took Galan by the arm and led him inside, indicating that he wished to see the drawings, and to hear what they meant.

At sunset they emerged and the ‘Seeker’ went to consult with the tribal elders. He sat before them and made signs in the earth with a long piece of stick that he took from a hide bag he carried. The symbols told the old men that he was happy, that the tribe would continue to prosper and that the blessing of the gods would be with them. He passed them a sachet of herbs which they took with great reverence. These would be used to make the sacred drink that would be consumed throughout the night as the celebrations climaxed around the stone building.

That night the revelling tribes-people sang and danced and drank and ate until they fell to the ground in a stupor and then they slept deeply until late the next day.

When they finally awoke the elders entered the stone building which was, as they expected, empty. The plain white walls gleamed, emitting a soft radiant glow. It was, they decided, a good omen and now they must await the next gifted child.

Deep in the forest the ‘Seeker’ led Galan along a twisting pathway. To Galan, who had never left the village, the sights and sounds of the jungle were euphoric. He rejoiced in the freedom and walked in awe of everything that he saw. His mind span, his eyes aching as they tried to absorb every detail of all that was around them. Above him the canopy of leaves was alive with brightly coloured birds and strange hairy beasts that swung from branch to branch with consummate ease. On the ground, amid the mass of blooms, were weirdly coloured snakes and small, fearful creatures that scuttled away from them as they approached.

That evening the ‘Seeker’ left him in a small clearing. Galan waited patiently until the strange man returned and was overjoyed to see that he carried food for them to eat. Galan watched as the ‘Seeker’ prepared the food, cooking it over a small fire he built and then the two of them ate in silence while the jungle chattered away all around them.

The days passed and gradually Galan felt more equipped to cope with this new world he was exploring. It no longer overwhelmed him, rather it exhilarated him. His questing mind raced over a multitude of possibilities and he began to imagine all the ways that his tribe could progress. He resolved that when he had visited paradise he would return to lead his tribe to great new heights.

About a month after he had left the village Galan followed the ‘Seeker’ out of the jungle and into a wide clearing. At the centre stood a strange edifice unlike anything that Galan had ever seen. It was a simple dome about thirty feet high and forty in diameter, its polished metal surface gleaming as though untouched by time. The ‘Seeker’ walked over to a large rock and sat while Galan stood with his mouth open. The ‘Seeker’ smiled at him and indicated that he should walk on alone then bowed his head and seemed to sleep.

Galan stood for a long time unsure of what he should do. Then, as the sun began to edge down towards the horizon he made his decision and began to walk very slowly across the swaying grasses towards the glimmering building. Strange thoughts began to pass back and forth through his confused mind and he found himself pondering what tribe might have built it. They were obviously much better than his own tribe for the building was perfect whereas even the stone building at the centre of his own village seemed crude by comparison. And then he knew, this was paradise and it was his destiny to become a part of it. With growing confidence he approached the dome and pushed aside the ivy that tried to scramble up its smooth surface. Reaching out he let his fingers brush the surface reverently and felt a tingle pass up his arm. He shuddered and recoiled but his inquisitiveness drew him back and he fought against the fear he felt, reached forward and let his palm rest on the cool metal.

At first he could neither see nor feel anything because his own heart, beating madly in his chest, drowned out all other sensations. Gradually, however, as he realised that he was in no danger, it began to subside and then Galan felt the surge of pleasure that ran through his body. He caressed the dome, finding that as he explored the surface with his fingers so he raise himself to ever greater heights of ecstasy. Hours passed and his addiction grew. He roamed about the dome tearing frantically at the vegetation seeking areas where the pleasure was greatest.

Soon he discovered that by moving his hands in complex patterns he could levitate his enjoyment to an even higher plain. Night fell and still he danced around the dome, oblivious to everything except the pattern and the pleasure. His body was flooded with sensation it had never before dreamt could exist. The dome responded by shuddering, sending small nodes of light flashing through its metallic skin, guiding, teaching and rewarding.

Then, suddenly, something flashed inside Galan’s head and he saw the meaning of the patterns. With a cry of delight he sent his hands flicking over the surface of the dome, anticipating the appearance of lights and stilling the vibrations. A hum sounded though the clearing, low at first but gradually moving higher and higher in tone until the very trees began to vibrate in harmony to it. Galan felt himself explode with the sheer, unimaginable delight of the moment, saw everything clearly for the merest fraction of a second and heard the music of the spheres pulse around him.

But in that moment of time where his mind linked with the universe his body gave a shuddering spasm and he fell back, his lifeless eyes staring in adoration at the dome, his mouth still grinning madly.

‘The ‘Seeker’ awoke, raised his head, looked over the swaying grass to where Galan lay and with no sign of emotion stood and walked across to the still twitching body. He knelt beside the youth and felt for a pulse. Satisfied that there was none he lifted the body and took it away to the edge of the jungle. There he left it for the scavengers before returning to the dome. Holding out his staff to a certain spot he operated a switch and a doorway appeared before him as the metal seemed to melt away into nothingness. The ‘Seeker’ walked into the darkness and the doorway closed behind him.

He stood quite still as a metallic voice echoed through the blackness.

‘SEEKER 235812"2….MISSION SUCCESSFUL…..EVOLVING LIFEFORM TERMINATED……RESET PROGRAM SEQUENCE……OVERHAUL UNIT………BEGIN SCAN.’

In the inky depths a myriad little lights began to twinkle.