Read Greegs & Ladders - By Zack Mitchell and Danny Mendlow Page 58

CHAPTER 4

  Garbotron Revisited

  We put the Quigg into a cage. Within minutes the cage had been cleaned to the point where it was blindingly shiny. With nothing left to clean, the Quigg promptly sat silently and went into a catatonic meditation. We didn't realize it, but the Quigg was caught in a serious state between life and death. The Quigg anatomy requires the act of cleaning to keep itself alive. Its cellular structure began to break down as soon as every square inch of accessible surface had been polished and sterilized. But this new Quigg was fighting to break through to the next logical phase in evolution. Had the creature been given a longer life-span and a more rapid method of procreation, it would have eventually spawned a new species of Quigg capable of not only cleaning things but also of dirtying things, allowing themselves to always stay alive, even if only to be caught up in a ridiculous loop of cleaning, dirtying, cleaning, dirtying, and so on.

  It was not difficult to find Milt, for his swath of clean land known as the Oviform had substantially expanded. He had been busy at work. I made sure Wilx parked the ship at least a mile away from the edge of the Oviform, so that we did not stir up any contaminants. From there we walked.

  Of course we couldn't see Milt anywhere, so we had to just walk around shouting out his name. Soon I spotted his tiny fluttering a few feet in front of me.

  “What are you doing back here?” he asked irritably in his ridiculously shrill voice. “You mustn’t contaminate the Oviform! Mustn’t! Stand back!”

  “We promise not to make a mess,” I said to Milt. “We plan on staying for as little time as possible.”

  “But why are you here?” he asked. “There is nothing you can do here other than ruin my work. You are part of the slovenly species who did this.”

  “We're looking for something,” I explained. “Something that might be important. This isn't for our own personal gain like the Beard of Broog. We're looking for something that might help save an entire planet.”

  “Continue,” said Milt. The planet-saving bit had sparked his interest.

  “A planet has vanished, we think due to Life-to-Planet Totality Quotient. In order to find the planet we must have some of its atmosphere for our tracking beacon. During your tireless and selfless work on this world, have you ever seen anything pertaining to the planet Jupiter? We are looking for the remnants of a museum.”

  “I might have seen some stuff labeled Jupiter,” said Milt absently.

  “Where?”

  “I've already given you a map of the planet. If I've seen it, I've marked it on the map.”

  “But we can't read the maps,” I said. “Even the magnifying glass did nothing to help.”

  “Surely you have computers on your space-craft that could enhance the image?”

  “We do, but we don't have a map anymore. Could we have a new one please?” I asked.

  “I only have my one copy left and I'm not willing to loan it out,” said Milt.

  “Then could you just take us there? That would be easier.”

  “Yes it would,” said Milt. “Easier for you anyway. But I'm afraid I don't have the time. I've got a lot of work to do.”

  “It won't take that long,” I said. “We don't have to walk. We have a ship.”

  “Look, I just don't want to help you,” said Milt in a surprisingly stern tone for such a shrill voice.

  “What if we could help you in return?” I asked.

  “How could you possibly help me? Your mere presence damages the atmosphere. The exhalation of your breath is a veritable explosion of toxic carbon-compounds. A minutes worth of your breath sets me back a week of work.”

  “What if we gave you something that every minute saved you a month of work.”

  “Impossible,” said Milt. “There is no cleaning machine that powerful.”

  “Machine, no. But there is a life form that powerful. They're called Quiggs.”

  “A Quigg?” asked Milt. He had read about them many times, always believing them to be mythical. “Quiggs aren't real. I've always wished they were, but they aren't.”

  “They were real. But they went extinct. We've managed to clone one from a long dormant tissue sample. Weren't we just talking about Jurassic Park? Nevermind. The point is, we'll give you a Quigg if you help us. You have no idea what this creature can do for the planet. You'll be retired in no time.”

  “Let me see it,” said Milt.

  I produced the cage. Since we'd stepped off the ship the Quigg had been wide-awake and going crazy with the smell of garbage. We opened the cage-door and the Quigg came rolling out.

  “Wow,” said Milt as he noticed it had brushes, scrubbers and buffers where there should have been arms, legs and feet.

  The Quigg seemed to be going into a spastic fit at the sight and smell of so much garbage. It could not handle the overload of filth. It began shaking so intensely it looked as if it was about to implode. Then the strangest yet most appropriate thing happened. The Quigg split into two Quiggs. It seems one look at Garbotron was enough to set the evolution of the Quigg back in full motion. There was no time for cloning or intercourse. More Quiggs were needed so badly that the sole member of one of the most useful species in existence was at once granted the power of instant replication. Within a few minutes there were half a dozen Quiggs hard at work.

  “Amazing!” beamed Milt. “Sensational! Legendary! It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!”

  “Enough for us to deserve your help?” I asked.

  “Yes, yes, I'll help you find this Jupiter sample,” said Milt as the Quiggs continued to multiply. “Although that might be a problem. At the rate they're replicating and cleaning, we're likely to not find anything! I know where the Jupiter Museum is. It's not far, just across the swamp.”

  Milt hurriedly directed us through a complex maze that we never would have been able to traverse without his expert help. At last we caught sight of a charred shell of a building with a sign that read JUPITER MUSEUM NOW OPEN.

  “The building is still somewhat intact,” noticed Wilx. “Didn't you say it was bombed?”

  “I thought it was,” I said. “It must have just been a fire. It's hard to remember everything when you're immortal.”

  “Too true,” agreed Rip.

  “Let's start looking,” said Wilx. “Everyone take a different wing of the Museum. Don't fall through any burnt floorboards!”

  We walked towards the entrance of the museum.

  “Do you mind if I push off now?” asked Milt. “I'm curious to get back to the Oviform and check on the progress of the Quiggs.”

  “Go ahead, we should be fine here,” I said.

  “Thank you again for the gift you have bestowed upon this troubled planet,” he said as he flew back to the Oviform.