Chapter Nineteen- The Rift
Aggie had already left a template with the Foreigners, and they had no idea what to do.? They were in the hub of the city helping to make decisions. One whiff of “Aggie loyalty” could screw it all up, cheese the Librarian right off.
“What shall we do?” hissed Foreigner One.
“Lie? Pretend a four-legged creature has eaten them?”
The Librarian was in the meeting room listening. He spent hours spying, nearly as many as watching earthlings.? He watched the arrest of Emmeline Pankhurst, gasped at Sweeney Todd, laughed at Harold Lloyd, and shed a tear for Charlie Chaplin’s Tramp.? The earthlings fascinated him. He loved intrigue, spying, and melodrama as much as he loved his library, and if he could get all three at once, he was a man in heaven.
He tried to educate his esteemed leader on such things, but James the Strong preferred watching trams. ?Planet Hy Man had sleek transporters that zipped about the street. All the Incomers had one, and all the Settlers had a driver along with one (usually an Incomer who didn’t talk too much). No one used four-legged creatures to pull things, which confused James the Strong, and a confused James the Strong turned to women.? Which had the Librarian wondering . . .
He knew there was something funny about that LM-2. Why did she wear a cap inside?? A smile spread across his thin lips. He saw an opening . . .
Maybe his luck had turned.
He slid into the Foreigners’ room and left minutes later . . . just as Aggie’s heels echoed down the empty corridor.
Foreigner Two, with a flustered rummage, pulled out Aggie’s template.
“It’s going to be brutal,” he said.
The footsteps stopped at the door.
“Brutal?” said Foreigner One. “You?”
“You heard what the Librarian said.”
Aggie tapped a knock on the door.?“
Aggie’s no spy,” said LM-2.
“Just follow my lead,” hissed Foreigner Two.
Aggie knocked again.
“Your lead? I think you’ll find it’s my lead,” snapped Foreigner One.
“She may be a know-it-all pain in the butt, but she’s no spy,” said LM-2. “I should know.”
The two Foreigners stopped.
“Babysitting her son hardly gives you inside information,” snapped Foreigner Two. He turned to his comrade. “Let me do the talking, you’re too sensitive.”
Foreigner One shrugged as Foreigner Two nodded at LM-2 to open the door.
“I wouldn’t trust that Librarian as far as I can sneeze,” she mumbled.“Spy my foot.”
“Just open the door,” hissed Foreigner Two as Aggie burst in.?“I was thinking about that last idea.”
No one looked at her.
Aggie cleared the table of mugs and unrolled her latest template.?“I think I have a way of bypassing the sunset,” she said.
The Foreigners looked at each other.
Foreigner Two, with a sniff of indifference, unrolled another template. “We have our own ideas.”
Aggie stared at it. “That’s my template.”
“Hardly,” said the Foreigner Two.
“It’s in my handwriting,” said Aggie.
“Could be mine,” muttered Foreigner Two.
“Or mine,” said Foreigner One.
Foreigner Two threw him a “leave it to me” glare.
Aggie eyed LM-2.?“Or perhaps yours?”
LM-2 glanced at Foreigner Two.
“Hardly,” he said. “She would not have done that—or that.” He thrust a pointed finger at the template.
“It’s hardly groundbreaking,” muttered Foreigner One, ignoring his comrade’s “leave it” glare.
Aggie fumed. Her face hot, she made to argue but stopped as Foreigner Two pushed the template back to Aggie.?“We don’t need this.”
“Yeah,” said Foreigner One.
Aggie fumbled with her template. Perhaps marching into the room wasn’t the best thing . . .
The Librarian, listening in the next room, rubbed his hands with glee, and when he heard Aggie leave with a slam, he headed to his esteemed leader. He had a few more seeds to plant . . .
James the Strong had no idea what was going on; all this Earth stuff had his brain buzzing like a bumblebee in a jar.? He stared at the waterfall from the window in his “man cave” and sighed. He was tired of stomping and looking like he understood.? He had spent hours in front of the mirror and his head was bursting with all the effort, and he still couldn’t see what all the fuss was about.?he thought. .
“We are watching progress in the making,” said the Librarian, marching in with two hemp teas.? He handed a mug to James the Strong, caught a glimpse of his “acting like he understood” look, and regretted his statement.? The concept of progress made as much sense to James the Strong as marriage—which, as he pointed out, was just a stupid way of spelling “owning.”
“There is the ceremony,” said the Librarian, “and rings.”
“Pfff, that old chestnut,” said James the Strong, who had no idea what the Librarian was talking about.? He looked out the window again as the Librarian began to adjust James the Strong’s mirror.
“Why use four-legged creatures for pulling?”
The Librarian stopped. “What?”
“I can pull a spaceship quicker than those wheeled thingies,” he muttered. “Why are we watching such idiots?”
The Librarian grunted.
“I’m fed up with these mirrors.”
“I was thinking we could try another position,” muttered the Librarian.
James the Strong started. “Position?”
“The mirror,” said the Librarian.
“Oh, I see—yes of course,” muttered James the Strong.
The Librarian, with a quizzical look at his leader, continued.?“I was thinking if we move these mirrors about, we may find something different for you to view.”
James the Strong nodded.
“Perhaps something more appealing?”
“Appealing?” said James the Strong. “I like that idea.”
“Have you heard of the melodrama?” said the Librarian, moving into action.
James the Strong said nothing.
The Librarian had gone for the largest mirror in the room with his pinwheel arms.? “Bit heavier than I thought,” puffed the Librarian.
“You did pick the biggest mirror,” said James the Strong.
The Librarian grunted. “Just thinking about the view, sir.” He wobbled, attempted a step, failed, and, with a muffled “going down,” toppled to the floor.
Manifesto watched as the mirror settled on top of his colleague, covering all but a well-polished sole of a high-heeled shoe. ?He stared at the foot.?“Suppose you want me to help?” said James the Strong.
“Perhaps if you could, Your Graciousness,” groaned the Librarian.
James the Strong eased the mirror up like it was an earring and waited for the Librarian to adjust himself.?“Would you like me to put it back?” said James the Strong.
“No, no,” said the Librarian, dusting himself off. “Now that it’s down . . . we must but continue.”? He paused, looking around the room.
James the Strong waited.
Silence . . .
“You sure you don’t want me to put it back?” said James the Strong, waving the mirror about like it was a hanky.
The Librarian, lost in thought, gestured an “I’m thinking.”
James the Strong tutted.
“Hmmm, now, yes . . .” muttered the Librarian.
“It will soon be sunset,” huffed James the Strong. “I could have this back in a jiff-like.”
“If we move that to there and this here,” said the Librarian.?“Right,” said James the Strong.?“No, wait, maybe there . . .” said the Librarian.
“OK,” muttered James the Strong.
“No, I think here, or over there?” said the Librarian. “Yes, that’s it. Now let’s just tweak this mirror.”
“Tweet?” James the Strong looked confused. “In my man cave?”?“It is tweak, sir—tweet is something birds do.”
James the Strong, pretending he didn’t hear, snapped a “Hurry up . . .”
“Yes, nearly there. Just need to move the four-legged skins.”?James the Strong glared at him.
Aggie walked down the corridor, her template crumbled by LM-2’s feet, forgotten. Never had she felt so vulnerable and alone.
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