Read Online Cosmocopia by Paul di Filippo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Paul di Filippo
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overburdened with the odor of Lazorg’s cleaner sweat. But despite the fragrances of her doss, sleep came easily, a welcome guest.
But in the middle of the long night, Crutchsump was awakened by sobs from beyond the divider, as Lazorg cried out a name over and over:
“Velina, Velina! Oh, Velina, I’m so sorry, Velina!”
The Chatterant Fields occupied a hundred acres or so outside Sidetrack City to the north. Hauling a small wain thence (borrowed from Rheaume on the promise of imminent profit for the ostealist) through the city streets starting before dawn took Crutchsump and Lazorg many hours. (Pirkle had been forced to remain home, noisily argumentative, for fear of slowing down the enterprise.) But the journey passed pleasantly enough, as Crutchsump answered Lazorg’s many questions about the urban sights and activities they passed.
At last though the easygoing preliminary stage of their workday ended, at the green margins of the place the volvox frequented.
Chatterant Fields hosted a wild monocrop of blue gasplants. At these gasplants, the volvox could oft be found, having dropped from the skies at necessary intervals to sip.
One volvox was in place now.
The volvox was an entity voluminous as the main room of Crutchsump’s apartment. A symmetrically multifaceted geometrical shape, the volvox boasted a bright, slightly damp green skin whose macroscopic cellular structure was quite apparent, each cell with its own nucleus and apparatus of life. Faintly beneath the skin of the otherwise hollow being could be seen its intricate lightweight skeleton—the very prize which Crutchsump had in mind to win, with Lazorg’s help.
Adhering to the trumpet of the gasplant by a suction valve, the volvox now sought to replenish its cargo of lighter-than-air lifting gases. When finished, it would detach and float away above any clouds, to absorb maximum sunlight that powered it.
Crutchsump produced a sharp knife, newly obtained on credit that morning from Grippo, the local dealer in cutlery.
“Once we rip through its skin, it will deflate and die. Then we secure the skeleton for sale!”
Lazorg studied the volvox dubiously. “Why can’t one person do this?”
“The skin is tougher than it looks. It takes some sawing to get through. So: I’m alone, and I jump atop the volvox and start sawing. It panics and lifts my meager weight up into the skies. Even if I succeed in killing it, we both plummet to injury or death. But you’re big and heavy, bigger than anyone else I know. You’ll serve as an anchor while I stab it.”
“Can’t they be rushed by a group?”
“Too skittish. Even the pair of us might alarm it. So proceed delicately!”
“All right. Let’s give it a try.”
Lazorg and Crutchsump began stalking the blimpy creature. Whatever it used for sensory organs were not obvious, so they could not reliably select a “blind” side to focus on.
Sure enough, the volvox detected their approach, and took flight.
The scavengers retreated to the edge of the field.
“Next time I’ll go alone,” said Lazorg. “Then, when I’ve got it, you race in.”
“Agreed!”
Under the shade of a geazel tree, they were just finishing the tasty cold lunch they had packed when a second volvox made its descent.
Lazorg dropped to his belly in the grass that grew around the gasplants, and began to worm toward the green faceted balloon.
Closer, closer—and a bold leap!
Even as she dashed forward, Crutchsump watched Lazorg’s fingers dig into the rubbery skin of the volvox. The creature attempted to lift, but Lazorg’s straining muscles and mass kept it from rising far.
Crutchsump leaped likewise through the air, landing on the upper irregular hemisphere of the volvox. She held on with one hand, while raising high the knife in the other. Down came the blade—and bounced off!
Crutchsump struck again, where skin seemed stretched thinner, over a ridge of bone.
The knife went in! She jagged the sharp side of the
But in the middle of the long night, Crutchsump was awakened by sobs from beyond the divider, as Lazorg cried out a name over and over:
“Velina, Velina! Oh, Velina, I’m so sorry, Velina!”
The Chatterant Fields occupied a hundred acres or so outside Sidetrack City to the north. Hauling a small wain thence (borrowed from Rheaume on the promise of imminent profit for the ostealist) through the city streets starting before dawn took Crutchsump and Lazorg many hours. (Pirkle had been forced to remain home, noisily argumentative, for fear of slowing down the enterprise.) But the journey passed pleasantly enough, as Crutchsump answered Lazorg’s many questions about the urban sights and activities they passed.
At last though the easygoing preliminary stage of their workday ended, at the green margins of the place the volvox frequented.
Chatterant Fields hosted a wild monocrop of blue gasplants. At these gasplants, the volvox could oft be found, having dropped from the skies at necessary intervals to sip.
One volvox was in place now.
The volvox was an entity voluminous as the main room of Crutchsump’s apartment. A symmetrically multifaceted geometrical shape, the volvox boasted a bright, slightly damp green skin whose macroscopic cellular structure was quite apparent, each cell with its own nucleus and apparatus of life. Faintly beneath the skin of the otherwise hollow being could be seen its intricate lightweight skeleton—the very prize which Crutchsump had in mind to win, with Lazorg’s help.
Adhering to the trumpet of the gasplant by a suction valve, the volvox now sought to replenish its cargo of lighter-than-air lifting gases. When finished, it would detach and float away above any clouds, to absorb maximum sunlight that powered it.
Crutchsump produced a sharp knife, newly obtained on credit that morning from Grippo, the local dealer in cutlery.
“Once we rip through its skin, it will deflate and die. Then we secure the skeleton for sale!”
Lazorg studied the volvox dubiously. “Why can’t one person do this?”
“The skin is tougher than it looks. It takes some sawing to get through. So: I’m alone, and I jump atop the volvox and start sawing. It panics and lifts my meager weight up into the skies. Even if I succeed in killing it, we both plummet to injury or death. But you’re big and heavy, bigger than anyone else I know. You’ll serve as an anchor while I stab it.”
“Can’t they be rushed by a group?”
“Too skittish. Even the pair of us might alarm it. So proceed delicately!”
“All right. Let’s give it a try.”
Lazorg and Crutchsump began stalking the blimpy creature. Whatever it used for sensory organs were not obvious, so they could not reliably select a “blind” side to focus on.
Sure enough, the volvox detected their approach, and took flight.
The scavengers retreated to the edge of the field.
“Next time I’ll go alone,” said Lazorg. “Then, when I’ve got it, you race in.”
“Agreed!”
Under the shade of a geazel tree, they were just finishing the tasty cold lunch they had packed when a second volvox made its descent.
Lazorg dropped to his belly in the grass that grew around the gasplants, and began to worm toward the green faceted balloon.
Closer, closer—and a bold leap!
Even as she dashed forward, Crutchsump watched Lazorg’s fingers dig into the rubbery skin of the volvox. The creature attempted to lift, but Lazorg’s straining muscles and mass kept it from rising far.
Crutchsump leaped likewise through the air, landing on the upper irregular hemisphere of the volvox. She held on with one hand, while raising high the knife in the other. Down came the blade—and bounced off!
Crutchsump struck again, where skin seemed stretched thinner, over a ridge of bone.
The knife went in! She jagged the sharp side of the
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