Marek Huberath: Yoo Retoont, Sneogg. Ay Noo

“Her body is completely correct,” he thought, and then realized that he had managed to lift himself up on his numb knees. He immediately fell.

The hum in his ears told him that with the fall he had lost consciousness. When the hum went away, Snorg heard Piecky yelling to Moosy.

“Relax! Stop fighting!… When he’s done, he’ll go,” Piecky was saying.

Moosy sobbed. “I can’t stand… He’s disgusting, an animal… Stop! Leave me alone…”

Snorg lifted his head: one of the Dagses had climbed into the box with Moosy.

“This is becoming unendurable,” he thought. “We can’t defend ourselves against them… and we can’t live with them.”

The Dags stopped its hoarse panting and plopped to the floor.

Piecky was going to tell a story. The Dagses held up his arm for the gesturing, though he could make only the most limited motions with it. He scratched his face with his hand. “That’s great, that’s wonderful,” he said over and over. “You people don’t know how to make use of your bodies.”

A few slaps by the Dagses brought him around. He began to tell the story.

“It was a lovely dream.” Piecky closed his eyes. “I was floating in air… It was heavenly… I had these black, flat wings on my sides, the kind we see sometimes on the viewscreen… The air moved with me. It was wonderfully cool,” he said more softly, as if to himself. “Moosy was flying beside me. Her wings were bright green. She had four wings and flapped them so nicely, I was sorry I was only Piecky…”

From the corner came a gurgle.

“Tavegner asks you to speak up,” said Snorg, and the next hollow gurgle confirmed that.

“All right. The room became smaller and smaller,” he continued, “and everything around me got greener and greener. Both the Dagses were flying below us, going in the same direction we were… and it was wonderful, because the sky we were flying toward was an enormous viewscreen, and as you got nearer, you could see the pixels. I could move in any direction…”

From the corner where Moosy’s box was came a quiet sob. Snorg pulled himself toward her.

“Do you need anything?” he asked.

“I wanted to call you, because if one of the Dagses comes, he’ll do the thing I hate again. Put me next to Piecky, could you?” she asked.

“Did his story move you?” Snorg asked Moosy, regarding her. Unlike Piecky, she had all her limbs, though they were shriveled.

“It’s not Piecky, it’s Tavegner,” she said through her tears. “The last time Piecky told a story, Tavegner asked to speak by letters… and he said… he said he wanted to go into the grinder instead of Piecky…”

“Grinder?”

“Piecky learned about it a long time ago,” Moosy explained. “He analyzes everything they say on the viewscreen. They pick the best of us… those who are formed the best, and the rest-go into the grinder.”

“You mean, the thing they show on the viewscreen and call war?”

She nodded yes. “Put me next to Piecky,” she said. “Every time he finishes telling his beautiful dream, he’s so feeble…”

Making a tremendous effort, Snorg lifted Moosy from her box and put her in the crib Piecky lay in, after which he had to slide back to the floor in a hurry, because Tib was soiling herself. He attached the sucker to her. When she was finished, he grasped her hips with all his strength and pulled himself to his knees.

“Don’t do it that way, all right… ?” he said, looking up at her. Tib looked down and saw his face twisted with effort. Her ears stuck out a little, and the light shone through them. They seemed extraordinarily beautiful. He clenched his numb jaw and took Tib by the shoulders. He felt that she was helping him, not pulling away but trying to stand straight to support him. She continued staring at his face. Between her parted lips, white teeth were visible.

Rising, Snorg felt large, gigantic… He stood. For the first time he stood on his paralyzed legs. Now he was looking at her not from below but from above… looking at Tib, who was as high as the sky.

Everyone stopped talking.

He decided to take a step. He felt power… Suddenly he saw that one of his feet was moving toward her…

“Tib! I’m walking…” It was meant to be a shout, but it came out as a snort or sob. Suddenly the Room swayed, and Snorg fell flat on his back with a crash.

The Room had two other occupants, whom Snorg never met, because they both used the same machine he did. While he was active, they slept. They were Aspe and Dulf. Aspe resembled Tavegner in shape, though she wasn’t his equal in size. Piecky said she was intelligent and nasty. She couldn’t speak, but communication with her presented no problem. She never detached her artificial arms and loved to play tricks on Piecky or Tavegner. Snorg hoped to talk with her someday, and with Dulf, who lay curled in a fetal position and whose incredibly wrinkled skin made you think he was ancient, though he was the same age they all were, that is, just past puberty.

Tib stopped fouling the Room, she learned to go to Snorg when she felt the need. Snorg, seeing her, usually was able to get the sucker. Tib began to respond to him: sometimes she would walk to the part of the Room where he was lying and stand by him, looking at him. She was much more active than she had been before.

“I underestimated you, Snorg,” Piecky said once. “You’re okay… You were able to make contact with Baldy. I couldn’t, though I tried plenty… You’ve changed, Snorg. Before, you looked like an animal that’s beaten all the time. Now one can see thought in your face.”

“Animal” meant primitive, mindless, and strong. Occasionally the viewscreen showed pictures of real animals that were long extinct. Snorg was pleased by Piecky’s compliment and understood why Piecky had given it. From that day Snorg practiced to strengthen his fortitude and will. After the moment when an exertion of will forced his unfeeling legs to make the first step, will became for him the most important thing. He could take many steps now, though often they ended with a dangerous fall. He stood by leaning on Tib’s body, but he walked by himself, and she only helped him a little. Sometimes, when he woke, he could move his arms without the help of the Dagses, and without the machine.

“You can see the will in my face,” he told Piecky.

Piecky, lying down, lifted his head and looked.

“You’re right,” he said. “The lines have hardened, the corners of your mouth turn down. But you better hurry, Snorg. I have the feeling we won’t be together long…”

What Piecky relied on was his brain. He would spend hours at the keyboard of a viewscreen and, if one of the Dagses didn’t unscrew his artificial hand as a joke, he would tap at the keys continually. Learning was his passion, and being with the machine. Snorg knew that you could make Piecky happy by setting him down at the keyboard and letting him sit there for hours.

Snorg decided to teach Tib to speak. Piecky advised him to press her hand to his throat so she could feel the vibrations of his vocal cords. For this purpose, in order to stand, Snorg grabbed her by the hips. But he did it too suddenly, and Tib fell. It was the first time he saw her on the floor. One of the Dagses, seizing the opportunity, quickly got between her legs, which had been thrown apart. Snorg swung, and the little one, from the blow, went rolling across the floor. There was blood.

“Snorg! Stop!” cried Piecky. “You’ll hurt him.”

“It’s my blood,” said Snorg, inspecting his hand. “I cut my hand on him.”

Tib had pulled herself together and sat up. The Dagses didn’t approach her, watching Snorg carefully.