Rickard
worked his cold jaws wide. Orienting his open mouth toward the glow in the room
beyond, the aberrant designed for combat and espionage exposed the rich
capillary beds beneath his muscular tongue to the heat. Fleetingly, he thought
about Icarus. A thought came to him he couldn’t communicate with clicks.
“Why
did the man seek the gods if he could fly to the heavens? If I could leap high
enough, I would gulp down the sun.” Rickard nodded agreeably, easing the panel
farther to one side.
Past
the tops of books, a pair of large shoes and a pair of tiny shoes passed by,
the legs above wrapped in pants. Another bookshelf was opposite them. Past that, another. Rows like tunnels to walk in, the walls
made of books.
It was hard to estimate how many rows.
Rickard
risked some glottal clicks to judge how large the expanse beyond the panel
really was. Ryker, too, listened, then swiveled his ears flat against his skull
in astonishment.
The world was huge.
The not-quite-boys waited. Some of the light came from hot
bulbs, but there was other light too. Rickard couldn’t see the second source
from their vantage point. The other wavelengths of light felt remarkable.
Slowly, they pulled books into the clammy tunnel, stacking them along the edges
of the rickety stairs to create a hollow just big enough for one of their
heads. As always, they took turns inching out, their faces even with the dusty
bindings—to smell, hear, and taste the new environment. They whispered or clicked or hummed their
findings to each other upon trading places. It continued for hours.
Fewer
feet passed. The tenor of the voices in the space had changed. The light from
electricity was extinguished and the other—preferred light—grew
pale. A low buzz remained, but the twins knew the remaining, even electricity
did not come from people. They moved yet more books and eased themselves to standing
in the aisle—a more dignified birth than their first had been. Now warm,
their ears covered in fine, soft hair pointing this way, then that. They
listened for reasons to dart back inside the tunnel.
Finding
none, they took tentative steps into the new world.
~King James Version
“A ll of them do, so we
must.” Rickard remained nude, but replied with a click of acknowledgment,
hissing lightly at his pile of clothing, then sat on his cot, slowly pulling on
each item, grim and determined.
Unaccustomed
to clothing himself, Ryker understood his twin’s hesitance.
The feelings of socks were particularly
disconcerting .
Ryker
needed his toes to help him experience his environment and felt a bit smothered
by the footwear, but to set an example, he ran in a quick arc on the floor to
sell the idea. Traction gone, he slipped, landing flat with a plop . Rickard flicked his inner lids
closed, watching.
“Except
these. We’ll leave these.” Ryker slipped off the socks.
They
ran drills and found reasons to remove their shirts and pants next. The short
white pants seemed natural for reconnaissance, so they left those on.
An additional layer to protect their
genitals could never hurt.
So
outfitted, they padded down the tunnel, up the stairs, and slid aside the panel
to explore.
Hearing
a dangerous squeak two aisles away, they dove back inside their nook, peering
through a slit from their dank, black hollow as a woman rolled a device with
wheels about.
Fortunately she seemed preoccupied .
She
placed books with precision on the shelves. Her actions appeared linear.
Had she already sorted the books on the
cart somehow?
Each
book seemed to have a definitive spot. The twins hunched on the metal grate,
the top stair which led—depending on which way they pointed their faces:
down to their open-doored cage, or out—to the rest of the earth.
They wanted out.
Blinking,
nostrils flared and throats expanded, ears swiveling, they tracked the
librarian. Systematically, she neared. When just a row away,
her back to them, Ryker slid the panel more open.
worked his cold jaws wide. Orienting his open mouth toward the glow in the room
beyond, the aberrant designed for combat and espionage exposed the rich
capillary beds beneath his muscular tongue to the heat. Fleetingly, he thought
about Icarus. A thought came to him he couldn’t communicate with clicks.
“Why
did the man seek the gods if he could fly to the heavens? If I could leap high
enough, I would gulp down the sun.” Rickard nodded agreeably, easing the panel
farther to one side.
Past
the tops of books, a pair of large shoes and a pair of tiny shoes passed by,
the legs above wrapped in pants. Another bookshelf was opposite them. Past that, another. Rows like tunnels to walk in, the walls
made of books.
It was hard to estimate how many rows.
Rickard
risked some glottal clicks to judge how large the expanse beyond the panel
really was. Ryker, too, listened, then swiveled his ears flat against his skull
in astonishment.
The world was huge.
The not-quite-boys waited. Some of the light came from hot
bulbs, but there was other light too. Rickard couldn’t see the second source
from their vantage point. The other wavelengths of light felt remarkable.
Slowly, they pulled books into the clammy tunnel, stacking them along the edges
of the rickety stairs to create a hollow just big enough for one of their
heads. As always, they took turns inching out, their faces even with the dusty
bindings—to smell, hear, and taste the new environment. They whispered or clicked or hummed their
findings to each other upon trading places. It continued for hours.
Fewer
feet passed. The tenor of the voices in the space had changed. The light from
electricity was extinguished and the other—preferred light—grew
pale. A low buzz remained, but the twins knew the remaining, even electricity
did not come from people. They moved yet more books and eased themselves to standing
in the aisle—a more dignified birth than their first had been. Now warm,
their ears covered in fine, soft hair pointing this way, then that. They
listened for reasons to dart back inside the tunnel.
Finding
none, they took tentative steps into the new world.
~King James Version
“A ll of them do, so we
must.” Rickard remained nude, but replied with a click of acknowledgment,
hissing lightly at his pile of clothing, then sat on his cot, slowly pulling on
each item, grim and determined.
Unaccustomed
to clothing himself, Ryker understood his twin’s hesitance.
The feelings of socks were particularly
disconcerting .
Ryker
needed his toes to help him experience his environment and felt a bit smothered
by the footwear, but to set an example, he ran in a quick arc on the floor to
sell the idea. Traction gone, he slipped, landing flat with a plop . Rickard flicked his inner lids
closed, watching.
“Except
these. We’ll leave these.” Ryker slipped off the socks.
They
ran drills and found reasons to remove their shirts and pants next. The short
white pants seemed natural for reconnaissance, so they left those on.
An additional layer to protect their
genitals could never hurt.
So
outfitted, they padded down the tunnel, up the stairs, and slid aside the panel
to explore.
Hearing
a dangerous squeak two aisles away, they dove back inside their nook, peering
through a slit from their dank, black hollow as a woman rolled a device with
wheels about.
Fortunately she seemed preoccupied .
She
placed books with precision on the shelves. Her actions appeared linear.
Had she already sorted the books on the
cart somehow?
Each
book seemed to have a definitive spot. The twins hunched on the metal grate,
the top stair which led—depending on which way they pointed their faces:
down to their open-doored cage, or out—to the rest of the earth.
They wanted out.
Blinking,
nostrils flared and throats expanded, ears swiveling, they tracked the
librarian. Systematically, she neared. When just a row away,
her back to them, Ryker slid the panel more open.
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