pseydtonne | Fiction excerpt

(The following is another entry in the Skeer series, last updated about fourteen months ago. Think sci-fi.)

The letter was right: walking across Grandentine Boulevard did me wonders.

I'd become used to walking only within the five blocks between Martin and Grandentine. Those signs in the local language looked as threatening as they were crumbling. They weren't rusty -- there isn't enough water in the air for anything to oxidize slowly. They just had a lot of curlicues and what I suspect were drawings for their version of an international language. You could see a ring on a stick around a narrowing in the road followed by a bullet flying toward a brick wall.

"The ring on a stick is a warning about keeping pets on leashes," my note said. "The bullet headed for a wall is some kind of neighborhood watch symbol."

The note goes on: Keep walking across Grandentine. Two blocks later is Sejudi Kaezhur, Splendid Garden. The orange leaves on the blue-trunked trees will blow your mind. By the way, you're allergic to the grass pollen here, too."

It's the little bits like the last sentence that remind me who wrote these notes.

So I walked up the first block and came across brick triple-deckers a lot like mine. Nothing interesting happened until I got about four yards from the corner.

"Jeebru! Jee-ghahoyna-bru! Matu osurayni?" I stopped in my tracks when I realized the yelling was getting closer, not just louder. A man in an ironed uniform walked up to me and stopped.

"Jee, oooh, jeh... you are human yes?" Thank goodness he spoke English. I nodded.

"You do not know this place. I... oooh... word is... you not know the street place that is Martin Road? I go to the Martin Road in Humantown."

I pointed behind me and said "six blocks that way." He nodded and ran. I guess janitors have to dress sharply here. It also dawned on me that hadn't been speaking Razu'i. It was too staccato, too clear. It had none of the marks of absolute unintelligibility. It sounded a lot like Japanese.

Once I'd crossed this street, which only had a sign in Razu'i (I can speak it, but I can't read it. Too much like Chinese meets graffiti) and a number, I was in a diffeent world. I could see the park about a block away, the cobalt blue tree trunks glowing in the sunset. I could also see why my end of town should have been condemned as I saw the native houses. Hovering beyond the park were these giant cacao pods made of the shiniest metal I've ever seen. They stood perfectly still, unlike me, but they had nothing holding them to the ground. I really wanted to trade my two gooey legs for that kind of structure.

-I'd finish this entry but I keep falling asleep, Ps/d