Dave Eggers - The Wild Things

“Dust, huh?” Carol said. “I thought you were going to say fire.”

They walked for a while, hearing only the wind.

“Did you know the sun is going to die?” Max asked.

Max blurted it out, unplanned. But now that the question was out, he was happy it was. He figured that Carol might very well have an answer.

Carol stopped and looked down at Max and then up at the sun. “What? That sun?”

Max nodded.

“Die? How could it die?” Carol asked, truly flummoxed.

“I don’t know. It’ll go dark and maybe become a black hole.”

“A black what? What are you talking about? Who told you something like that?”

“My teacher. Mr. Wisner.”

“Mister Wis-who? That doesn’t make sense.” Carol looked up again at the sun, standing still and shining bright. “Nothing like that’s gonna happen. You’re the king! And look at me. We’re big!” He held his hands out expansively, broadening his enormous chest. “How can big guys like us worry about a tiny little thing like the sun?”

Max smiled weakly.

“You want me to eat it, King?” Carol said. “I’ll jump up and eat that sucker before it can be dead or whatever.” He jumped up, grabbing for the sun with his hairy paw.

Max laughed. “No, no. Don’t,” he said.

“You sure? It looks juicy.”

“No, that’s okay.”

Carol put his hand on Max’s head. “Okay. But you let me know. C’mon, we’re almost there.”

They walked through the lava, and then through a maze of tall, sharp silver stones shaped like teeth. There were thousands of them, all around.

“Just wait till we get there,” Carol said, getting excited. “You’re gonna love it. If anyone would understand it, it would be you. I see the way you watch things. You have good eyes.”

Just then, an enormous animal — at least sixty feet tall — lumbered slowly by, far off in the distance, over a desert ridge. It looked a lot like a dog.

“What’s that ?” Max asked, expecting to hear about a mythical creature with a mythical name.

Carol squinted and put his hand over his eyes to see better. “Oh, that’s a dog,” he said. “I don’t talk to that guy anymore.”

Max and Carol climbed up a steep hillside of oversized silver stones. Carol’s huge legs made climbing the giant rocks much easier than for Max. While Carol jumped from one to the next like he was walking up stairs, Max struggled to keep up, having to find toeholds in each boulder.

When he was just about too exhausted to continue, Max heard Carol’s voice from high above:

“We’re here. Or I am at least.”

Max looked up to see Carol standing in the entrance to a magnificent and dizzyingly intricate wooden structure built into the side of the mountain. The design was utterly its own, curvy like the homes they demolished on the first night, but it was far more complex and grand, a multi-tiered palace somehow anchored perpendicularly to the side of the cliff. Finally Max reached the flat stone on which Carol stood. Carol was grinning like mad.

“Ready?” Carol asked.

Max was heaving from the climb, but he couldn’t wait. He nodded.

Carol looked around to make sure no one had followed them, and then led Max inside.

The room was high-ceilinged and wide and full of peach-colored light. It was a studio of some kind, messy and full of projects — kite-like contraptions hanging from above, hexagonal boxes all over the floor, everything carved with dizzying detail, patterns upon patterns. There were a hundred skylights above, all of them oval and allowing the brilliant sun, filtered by some kind of flesh-colored glass, into the room.

Max walked around slowly, taking everything in. There were contraptions everywhere, facsimiles of animals carved or assembled from wood and stone and gems. On the walls were endless drawings, paintings, diagrams, plans.

On the main worktable, an entire city was laid out, almost twenty feet long and six feet tall — buildings shaped like mountains and hills in an organized, almost grid-like format. The city’s architecture was similar to that of the village they destroyed — long straight lines, slowly curving, twisting like reluctant corkscrews. The details were immaculate and painstaking. It looked like it would have taken ten years to make. It was a model world — controllable, predictable, tidy.

“Did you make this?” Max asked, his voice an awed whisper.

“Yeah,” Carol said, looking at it anew through Max’s eyes.

“It’s really good,” Max said. “I wish I could shrink myself down and get inside it.”

Carol’s mouth opened wide into a goofy grin. “Well then, you should!” He guided Max under the table, where he had carved open a hole in the platform. Max popped up through the hole and now was in the middle of the model world.

“I’ve only shown this one other time, and she didn’t really get it,” Carol said, seeming pained even recalling the memory. Realizing his darkening mood, Carol changed the subject. “Oh! Put your eyes right here.”

Carol’s huge paws moved Max’s head so his eyes were at the street level of the model city. As Max was focused on the minutiae of the buildings, he heard the sound of water. Carol had tilted a jug, and soon water slowly flowed through the streets.

“I always thought it would be better if we had rivers to get around from place to place,” Carol said.

Max watched from ground level. The streets were now paved with water, and a tiny boat sailed through an intersection, in and out of view.

Now Max could see that the tiny boat held tiny, crudely carved facsimiles of Carol and Katherine. The rowboat soon merged with a boulevard carrying many other canoes, all holding creatures. Soon the canoe carrying Carol and Katherine took a turn — at a fork, it sailed left while the rest went right — and in a moment it ran into a pole, knocking the two models out of the boat. They promptly sank.

Max looked up at Carol, astounded. Carol didn’t notice — he was carefully working on a new structure for the model city. With great delicacy he carved into a thin sheet of wood with his pinkie claw.

It amazed Max how Carol, roped with muscle and easily seven hundred pounds, could work with such finesse. Max’s gaze drifted back to the city. He looked underneath the table. There was nothing there, just a few drips from where the streets leaked.

“What would happen under the city, with all this water?” Max asked.

“I don’t know,” Carol said, his curiosity piqued.

Max examined the underside more thoroughly.

“You could have a whole underwater world. It would be upside down and everything could hang from the ceiling like stalactites. There’d be fish under the streets. And the subway trains would have to be submarines.”

“Wow,” Carol said, pondering it all. “That’s a good point. Yeah. I like your brain, Max.”

Max smiled. It was the first time anyone had ever said that to him. He loved that Carol liked his brain.

Carol looked over the city, seeing it through Max’s eyes. “I love making buildings. This is the first one I ever made. I try to make buildings that feel good to be in. Like this. C’mere.”

Max took a step toward him. Carol suddenly enveloped Max in a bear hug.

“What’s that feel like?” Carol asked.

“Ummm, hairy? Warm. Good.”

“Yeah. I want to build a whole world like that. Have you ever been in a place that should feel good, but it feels out of control, like you’re really small? Like where all the people are made out of wind, like you don’t know what they’re going to do next?”

Max nodded vigorously.

“When?” Carol asked.