Greegs & Ladders by Zack Mitchell, Danny Mendlow (top 10 ebook reader txt) 📕

“Do you know what these creatures are?” I asked Wilx.

“No, but pass me the copy of Very Rare Planets. They might make mention of it in the less-read sections.”

I passed Wilx my tattered copy of the book. He flipped to the chapter on Hroon and read from the microscopic blurbs bordering the edges of the page. I had never bothered to read those parts.

“The dominant species,” said Wilx, “are a measly gathering of beasts known as Grollers. All we can tell you about Grollers is to not go near them, under any circumstances.”

“Ok. Let's get out of here,” said Rip. “You heard the books informative yet anonymous voice from two thousand years ago telling us not to go near them.”

“Actually,” began Wilx, “Very Rare Planets is even older than that. The first known publication was sometime before--”

“They look like the puke of a Galactic Gobbling Groobin,” interrupted Rip.

“No they don’t,” I said. “They look like the guts of a Colossal Snorkling Plitzer!”

“No,” challenged Rip. “They look like evolution’s cutting room floor.”

Grollers did not end up on evolution’s cutting room floor. They made the final cut. You might think a Groller is ridiculously unsuited to live on a waterworld because they’re not originally from a waterworld, having possibly re-colonized to the wrong planet. This is not the case. Hroon is the only planet that Grollers have ever existed on. It is simply a case of evolution severely fucking up.

“Prepare the floating elevator.”

“And don’t forget the remote control this time,” I said.

“Way ahead of you,” said Wilx as he patted his jacket pocket, which contained ample spare remotes. “It is a new rule never to leave the ship without ample spare remotes for the floating elevator. We’ve gotten in a lot of trouble from continuing to forget this thing.”

Grollers always evoke a strong reaction in visitors. Many people wish that someone would get the whole business over with by dropping a bomb on the lot of them. Others wish that someone would transport them to a planet where they belong. Most are against this last idea, not wanting to risk their own planet being the future home of Grollers.

“Ugh. Just look at them,” I said.

“Don’t forgot that you’re a Greeg,” said Wilx. “You’re barely less hideous than those things.”

“Do you think they can talk?” I asked, ignoring the comment.

The floating elevator touched down on the island. The Grollers were noticeably scared of the new technology. They hopped and rolled their way to the opposite edge of the rocks. A few remained nearby.

“Look,” I said, pointing to the close Grollers, “Some of them are brave and want to examine us.”

“I don’t think so,” said Wilx, inspecting the nearby bodies. “They aren’t moving. I think they were killed by the fire propulsion of the floating elevator.”

“Oh.”

Rip promptly rolled the dead Grollers into the water, so as to not upset the rest of the herd. A carnivorous fish-monster promptly ate them and was delightedly surprised by the random introduction of cooked Groller meat as opposed to the usual raw. It was a delicacy the fish-monster had never been treated to. No one else in history had ever accidentally fried a group of Grollers with the propulsion of a floating elevator and then rolled their bodies into the ocean.

“Not the best way to say hello,” said Wilx.

“Just look at them,” I repeated.

“Indeed.”

All three of us were thoroughly brought down by the sad scene of the Grollers.

“Can any of you talk?” shouted Rip. “HELLO?”

Not one sound emanated from the creatures. Not even a slur of gibberish or a brief bout of nonsensical shrieking. Total silence.

“They can’t talk. Let’s go,” said Rip.

Wilx threw up over the edge of the rocks. “You’re right. We can’t learn anything from these primitive beasts.”

“Why did you throw up just now?”

“Maybe seasickness. Maybe the horrible sight of those creatures, or a combination of the two. Probably just the creatures though.”

“I’m cueing the elevator.”

As we were about to climb onto the elevator I happened to glance behind me and take one last look at the Grollers. I could just as easily have not taken this last glance. Sometimes I laugh about how much can change during the millisecond of a trivial decision.

Of all the Grollers overpopulating this island, one of them in particular was special. Kog shall be his name. Kog was not smarter than the other Grollers. He was not the next link in their evolution. What made Kog special was the fact that he had something in his possession. It was the only object on the entire island, and it was hidden away so that no one else could see it. If any of the other Grollers were to have anything in their possession they would immediately try to eat it.

“Hey!” I shouted at Rip and Wilx. “Look at that one over there!”

“Where? They all look the same.”

“Right there to the left! Do you see it?”

“No.”

“One of them is motioning to us!”

Rip and Wilx looked around the terrain until they spotted Kog. He was waving for us to come closer.

“I don’t like it,” said Rip. “Could be a trap.”

“But it’s a sign of intelligence! Maybe that one has learned how to communicate.”

“Maybe so.”

“We should at least try to talk to it.”

“You go over and chat with the monsters. We’ll stay on the elevator in preparation for rapid departure. If these beasts turn on you, don’t count on us waiting around to collect your body.”

“Ok.”

So Rip and Wilx (in their occasional cowardly fashion) remained on the floating elevator as I carefully ambled my way towards Kog. I could see that he was now pointing at the rocky floor.

“What is it?” I asked.

Kog continued to point at the rocks.

“It’s just more rocks. What are you pointing at?”

In a fit of impatience, Kog stood on his leg and attempted to jump up and down like a child. He quickly fell over, bruising his face and scraping his arm. He angrily thrashed about, apparently having just discovered for the first time that he only had one leg and one arm. Grollers have no memory at all. Kog was the only living Groller who had any sort of remembered knowledge, and it was merely the location of the hidden object.

It was at this moment that most of the Grollers became aware that I was food. They began to hop and roll their way towards me. Luckily they were slow and zombie-like, but given the lack of space it was only a matter of minutes before they closed in on me.

“Listen, you mutant! What are you pointing at?!” I screamed at Kog.

The sudden loudness of my outburst shook Kog into an awakened state of purpose. He had never felt more alive.

Kog pushed and kicked away the loose pile of rocks he'd been pointing at. Buried underneath was a book. It looked very old and tattered.

“Thank you,” I said as I grabbed the book. I raced for the floating elevator.

Obotron 1 flew away from Hroon. Just one fleet ship now followed behind us (the other one resting at the bottom of the Hroonian Ocean, for those of you who have the memory of a Groller). I could not wait to peruse this mysterious artifact.

The book had washed up on the island many thousands of years ago. The archaic and brittle tree-fibre pages had survived the ocean by having been rolled up and contained within an airtight canister. This canister was likely the first ever 'message in a bottle' in universal history. The ancient Groller who found the book somehow instinctively knew that it must be kept a secret, so he buried it in the rocks. In his short lifetime he showed it to only one other Groller, this being the Groller who would in turn be the next guardian of the book. This cycle continued down the ages, so that per generation there was always only one Groller who knew the secret. None of the guardians were curious enough to open the pages or to even wonder about the book. They merely kept it safe. This remarkable event reached its culmination with Kog. For whatever reason, Kog knew the book was meant to be given to me.

It is now my belief that the purpose of the Groller species, the complete reason for their very evolution, was to make sure that this object made its way into my possession.

The Journal

“What were you doing back there?” said Rip. “You know how hungry those creatures were?”

“It was worth it,” I said. “Look at this. They were hiding some type of old book. Who knows what important information it contains.”

“Another book?” asked Rip concernedly. “Last time you read a book to us we got in a lot of trouble. Remember?”

“I haven’t had time to forget. Last time I read a book to you was a copy of Very Rare Planets, and that was when we decided to visit Hroon. So only seconds ago did we finish getting in the trouble that occurred from the last time I read a book to you.”

“Exactly. I think we could use a break before you start unleashing more trouble from out of whatever other hexed books you continuously find lying around.”

“I concur,” said Wilx. “Take that book to your room if you want to read it. We’ll be in here purging our minds of cursed knowledge by way of a few Crammington Krish Fortinis.”

“We still have some of those?” said Rip elatedly.

I retired to my room, leaving the two well-seasoned travellers of space and time to their self-destructive methods of transcendental meditation.

I carefully opened the book, making sure not to crack its weather-worn pages. I immediately saw from the dated entries that it was a personal journal of sorts.

But who wrote it?

And where?

1st ENTRY – DATE: 337/51 – LOCATION: Mother Ship, Yoloron Galaxy

My name is Jorf. I just moved to the up and coming Yoloron Galaxy. Today I started a new job. I am an Intergalactic Specimen Collector. It is my duty to obtain any and all sorts of life forms from whatever planet I come across. The spaceship I have been equipped with may be old and rickety, but it has all the right environmental housing facilities for storing any type of species. My first assignment is to visit a nearby largish meteor that has taken up orbit around a new sun. We are to decide if the meteor is showing any tendencies of becoming a planet, i.e.: whether or not life is sprouting up on this barren wasteland. It sounds dull, and I don’t expect to find anything. Just the sort of job they give to someone on their first day.

I wasn’t entirely interested in this Jorf character, but I recognized the name Yoloron as having been the ancient name for