Burn | Page 6

resting on a rock in a muddy river.
"The High Gregory of Kenning regrets that he is otherwise occupied at the moment," it said, raising its shell up off the rock. It stood on four human feet. "I note with interest that your greeting originates from a jurisdiction under a consensual...."
The turtle didn't get the chance to finish. The screen shimmered and went dark. A moment later, it lit up again with the image of a boy, perched at the edge of an elaborate chair.
He was wearing a purple fabric wrap that covered the lower part of his body from waist to ankles. He was bare-chested except for the skin of some elongated, dun-colored animal draped around his thin shoulders. Spur couldn't have said for sure how old the boy was, but despite an assured bearing and intelligent yellow eyes, he seemed not yet a man. The chair caught Spur's eye again: it looked to be of some dark wood, although much of it was gilded. Each of the legs ended in a stylized human foot. The back panel rose high above the boy's head and was carved with leaves and branches that bore translucent purple fruit.
That sparkled like jewels.
Spur reminded himself to breathe. It looked very much like a throne.
Three
It takes two to speak the truth -- one to speak and another to hear.
- A Week on the Concord and Merrimack rivers
"Hello, hello," said the boy. "Who is doing his talk, please?"
Spur struggled to keep his voice from squeaking. "My name is Prosper Gregory Leung."
The boy frowned and pointed at the bottom of the screen. "Walden, it tells? I have less than any idea of Walden."
"It's a planet."
"And tells that it's wrongful to think too hard on planet Walden? Why? Is your brain dry?"
"I think." Spur was taken aback. "We all think." Even though he thought he was being insulted, Spur didn't want to snap the connection -- not yet anyway. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
The words coming out of the speakers did not seem to match what the boy was saying. His lips barely moved, yet what Spur heard was, "I'm the High Gregory, Phosphorescence of Kenning, energized by the Tortoise of Eternal Radiation." Spur realized that the boy was probably speaking another language and that what he was hearing was a translation. Spur had been expecting the censors built into the tell to buzz this conversation like they had buzzed so much of his chat with Leaf Benkleman, but maybe bad translation was just as effective.
"That's interesting," said Spur cautiously. "And what is it that you do there on Kenning?"
"Do?" The High Gregory rubbed his nose absently. "Oh, do! I make luck."
"Really? People can do that on the upside?"
"What is the upside?"
"Space, you know." Spur waved an arm over his head and glanced upward.
The High Gregory frowned. "Prosper Gregory Leung breathes space?"
"No, I breathe air." He realized that the tell might easily be garbling his end of the conversation as well. "Only air." He spoke slowly and with exaggerated precision. "We call the Thousand Worlds the upside. Here. On my world."
The High Gregory still appeared to be confused.
"On this planet." He gestured at the hospital room. "Planet Walden. We look up at the stars." He raised his hand to his brow, as if sighting on some distant landmark. "At night." Listening to himself babble, Spur was certain that the High Gregory must think him an idiot. He had to change the subject, so he tapped his chest. "My friends call me Spur."
The High Gregory shook his head with a rueful smile. "You give me warmth, Spur, but I turn away with regret from the kind offer to enjoy sex with you. Memsen watches to see that I don't tickle life until I have enough of age."
Aghast, Spur sputtered that he had made no such offer, but the High Gregory, appearing not to hear, continued to speak.
"You have a fullness of age, friend Spur. Have you found a job of work on planet Walden?"
"You're asking what I do for a living?"
"All on planet Walden are living, I hope. Not saved?"
"Yes, we are." Spur grimaced. He rose from the tell and retrieved his wallet from the nightstand beside the bed. Maybe pix would help. He flipped through a handful in his wallet until he came to the one of Comfort on a ladder picking apples. "Normally I tend my orchards." He held the pix up to the tell to show the High Gregory. "I grow many kinds of fruit on my farm. Apples, peaches, apricots, pears, cherries. Do you have these kinds of fruit on Kenning?"
"Grape trees, yes." The High Gregory leaned forward in his throne and smiled. "And all of apples: apple pie and apple squeeze and melt apples." He seemed pleased that they had finally understood