chapter thirty‑six

"Wha," said Andrew and then wondered why. He tried saying it again, but it still had no significance.

"What," that was better but it still seemed, somehow, incomplete.

"What happened?" that was it, but what did it mean? And why was everything a fuzzy green colour?

He tried shaking his head, but the ensuing stab of pain quickly convinced him that it was not a good idea, blinking was painless but achieved nothing.

"And you," said a voice. Andrew ignored it because the homogeneous green mist had gradually begun to resolve itself into discernible shapes.

A large rock outcrop had interrupted the lavish growth of the forest creating a clearing in the dense jungle. Andrew was on the edge of the smooth rock platform. In the centre, sitting in a circle, was a group of small green‑skinned people.

"Anne Jew," said the unidentified voice.

Andrew tried to turn around to see who was making these odd remarks, but he was unable to move. He was sitting on the ground and pinned to the trunk of a tree by a rope which was wrapped around his chest and arms.

"Andrew!" said the insistent voice from behind him.

"Yes?" said Andrew, now that his ears were working properly again.

"Are you all right?" said the now recognizable voice of Alex.

"No, I'm tied to a tree."

"Apart from that."

"My head hurts when I shake it."

"Well stop shaking it."

"I have. What's going on?"

"I don't know, I can't see anything."

"Blindfold eh?"

"No I'm facing the wrong way," said Alex with mounting irritation. "Can you see anything?"

"Yeah, there are about ten little green people sitting around in a circle, talking. They're practically naked, except for little brown shorts. It's really weird. They've got dark green skin and sort of apple green hair, they can't be more than four feet high. The women are topless and they've got blue nipples!"

"Spare me the anatomical details. What are they doing?"

"They're just talking, I can't hear what they're saying."

"Are they talking in a hungry way?"

"What does that mean?"

"Do they look as if they are debating whether we would be best boiled or spit‑roasted?"

"They look like they're discussing the weather. Hey, one of them is coming this way."

A woman detached herself from the group and casually made her way across the grey stone surface towards Andrew. She had short curly hair, she looked fit and healthy, a large wooden boomerang was tucked into the top of her shorts, her breasts were small and hardly showed any movement as she walked. Andrew found it hard to ignore her exotic blue nipples, but then he probably would have found it hard to ignore them if they'd been normal and pink.

"So, you're awake at last," said the woman as she crouched down in front of him. "My name is Ursula. You will answer all my questions," she stated briskly.

Andrew had the uncomfortable feeling that she had taken an instant dislike to him.

"Hello," he said in the friendliest voice he could muster under the circumstances.

"What," she said and slapped his left cheek with the palm of her hand, "is your name? And what," she stung his right cheek with a blow from her other hand, "are you doing here?"

"Ouch," said Andrew, unable to move his hands to protect or even sooth his face. "You don't have to hit me, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"I don't have to, but," she smiled, "I happen to enjoy it. So, what," SLAP, "is your name?"

"Andrew Smith and my friend's name is Alex," said Andrew quickly.

"Don't," SLAP, "anticipate the questions. What," SLAP "are you doing here?"

"Look," growled Andrew, "I'm not going to answer any questions until you stop hitting me."

SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP.

"All right! I'll answer, I'll answer. We're on our way to the Land of the Endless Dream‑Time."

"Lies!" SLAP.

"No, no, it's true," pleaded Andrew and then, with a flash of inspiration, he added, "ask my friend, he knows all about it, much more than I do."

"All right," SLAP, "I'll do that." Ursula stood up and walked around to the other side of the tree. Just before she moved out of earshot Andrew heard her say, "oooh, hello, you're a handsome devil."

Half an hour went by; Andrew's cheeks had lost their numbness but still felt sore. He began to feel guilty about setting the girl on Alex. Occasionally he heard a girlish giggle from behind the tree and cringed at the thought of what hideous torture she must be inflicting to give her such delight. He shuddered when he heard Alex give out a loud groan. Moments later, the girl reappeared and skipped happily over to rejoin the circle of green people.

"Alex, are you all right?" shouted Andrew anxiously.

"Oooh, pretty good," said Alex in an exhausted voice.

"Are you sure? Your voice sounds peculiar, almost as if you enjoyed it."

"Didn't you?"

"No, of course not," said Andrew, horrified.

"Well, it takes all sorts."

"Oh no, here comes another one."

"Is she pretty?"

"It's a man."

The man crouched down in front of Andrew and pulled a knife from the scabbard on his belt.

"Hello, my name is Vincent. Sorry about Ursula; it's a pity you missed the second part of her act."

"Really?" said Andrew sceptically.

"Yeah, she really gets turned on by violence. Unfortunately none of the men here enjoys it, so to stop her getting too frustrated we let her interrogate the prisoners. She's usually very effective."

"I can imagine," said Andrew his cheeks still burning. "What are you going to do with us?"

"Ursula thinks you're both quite harmless, so, if you agree to help us, we'll let you go."

"We agree, we agree," said Andrew hastily, wondering if the knife was intended to coerce him or free him.

"You haven't heard the conditions yet."

"Well what choice do I have?"

"Oh, yes, I see what you mean, I suppose we'd have to kill you."

"That's what I thought."

"Let me tell you something of our history, then perhaps you will feel more sympathetic towards our cause," Vincent put away the knife and began undoing Andrew's bonds.

"I feel more sympathetic already, but go ahead anyway."

"Many years ago we were normal people, much like your friend, we lived normal lives in the towns and cities, and were not the small green people you see today. A few of us began to realize that the Editor was destroying this beautiful rain‑forest and all the creatures that rely on it. We started to protest, arguing that they should, at least, have a policy which included extensive replanting. The Editor ignored our proposals and continued to wreck the ecology of the area. So a group of us left our homes and came here to try and protect the remainder of the trees. In those days they used large machines, driven by people, to do the logging. By lying in front of the machines we were able to reduce the number of trees felled, although we still couldn't stop it completely - there weren't enough of us. As a counter stroke the Editor published stories which ridiculed us and made us out to be fanatics. Eventually he labelled us Greenies and said that we were little people of little importance. Undeterred we continued our fight, and began living in the Magic Forest which protected us from any further stories. But then the Editor scrapped the machines and their drivers, and trained thousands of elephants to do the work instead. The elephants will happily walk over anything which gets in their way, so now, there is nothing we can do to save the forest."

"It's a sad story," said Andrew trying desperately to take it seriously, "but how can we help?"

"You probably can't, but we must try every possibility - no matter how remote. There is a legend-"

Andrew choked. "Sorry, I think I swallowed a fly, or something."

"There is an old story," continued Vincent, "amongst the true Forest‑Folk."

"Ha," exploded Andrew involuntarily, "uh, I mean; aha, the True Forest‑Folk, I knew they existed," he raised his voice to a shout, "you see, Alex, I told you the True Forest‑Folk were real!"

"Yes, well they are," said Vincent, "and they tell a story about a place in the Land of Endless Dream‑Time called the Design Centre. There, it is said, lives a man who designed everything which exists."

"So you want us to find him and get him to change your blueprint from green to pink."

"No, we don't believe he can do that, because the Editor has not altered the original plan. But the elephants could be changed."

"To be more considerate to people lying in front of them?"

"No. Stop guessing and let me finish."

"Sorry."

"The reason the elephants are able to perform such a complex series of tasks without supervision, is because they have such good memories. If their memory were reduced they would forget their detailed training and so the forest would be saved. We think that, because the elephant's memory is so much better than that of other animals, it was probably a mistake in the original design, and so could easily be changed."

"It sounds rather an obscure way of achieving your goals, surely there is something else that could have its design altered."

"Look," said Vincent annoyed by Andrew's criticism, "we have studied this for many years, of all the options; changing the elephant's memory capacity will have the least effect on the rest of the ecosystem. You can't just change things willy‑nilly without consideration of the repercussions in other areas of the environment."

"How will we find this Design Centre place?"

"We don't know. For several generations of the Forest‑Folk, no one has ever returned from the Land of the Endless Dream‑Time. However, we will meet later with their leader and, perhaps he will be able to tell us more about the legend."

"Great," said Andrew.

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