The Ware Tetralogy, Rudy Rucker [inspirational books TXT] 📗

figures were still there. The Metamartians?!

“Good morning, Yoke,” murmured little Shimmer, half the size of Yoke’s thumb. The miniature woman, man, and five animals were crawling around on Phil’s bean, which looked somewhat the worse for wear. There was a hole in each of its seven bulging seeds. Evidently the seven little figures had tunneled into the seeds like weevils, sealing their entry holes over with plugs of green imipolex.

“You stowed away,” murmured Yoke.

“I knew you’d keep the bean,” said Josef the beetle. Of all the Metamartians, he alone was the same size as before. “I showed the others how to make copies of themselves as small as me. And I copied myself too. We’re the copies. We flew to your room and got inside your bean.”

“Go away,” said Yoke. “I don’t want the powerball to eat me too.”

Wubwub answered. “Aw, we not gonna decrypt any more Metamartians. Seven’s all we need for a complete family, you know what I’m sayin’? We got the family now, we gonna look around a little, make a baby, maybe help Om spread the allas, and then we move on.”

Yoke sat up, fully waking. “I thought the Cappy Janes killed you. Cobb and I saw them burning you on the beach.”

“We’re copies,” said Ptah. “Like Josef said. We left before the Cappy Janes got there. Our original selves died; they let themselves get killed so the Cappy Janes would think they’d won. We’re seconds; well, actually, I’m a third. Like I told you when Om ate my first self, Yoke, losing a life isn’t a big deal for us. Every day, every minute of my life on Metamars, I saw one of my time-lines end. Letting the Cappy Janes kill versions of us was a small price to pay so that we can observe your people in peace. Do you mind if we settle in here?”

“I don’t want to help unless you can bring Phil and Darla back.”

“Are you not grateful for the boon of your alla?” asked the little unicorn Peg. She was the Metamartian Yoke liked the least. Such a tacky-looking thing, with her swilly, corny style of speech.

“I could live without it,” said Yoke airily. “It caused me nothing but trouble in Tonga. I went there to do some diving and I ended up being a golden goose. In fact, here, you can take it!” She pulled the alla tube out from under her pillow and tossed it at the little figures, who hopped about in kind of a cute way. “I’m not grateful one bit,” continued Yoke. “As far as I’m concerned, you can turn yourselves back into personality waves and find a different world to xoxx with.”

“She a tiger,” said Siss admiringly.

“It’s too late to stop it now,” said Ptah. “How this all comes out is up to Om.”

“Are you talking to yourself, Yoke?” said Babs, suddenly appearing in Yoke’s field of view. “Oh my God, what are those wavy little figurines? And they’re moving! Did you make them with your alla?”

“Hi, Babs. These are the aliens I was telling you about. Okay, Metamartians, this is Babs. And Babs, this is Shimmer, Ptah, Wubwub, Siss, Peg, Josef, and—the seventh one’s new. The little bird that looks like he’s wearing a yellow mask.”

“I’m Haresh,” said the bird, his voice loud and melodious even though he was but one centimeter long. “An Indian mynah. I am very pleased to be meeting you, Miss Yoke and Miss Babs.”

“Did you tell the powerball to eat Phil?” said Yoke accusingly.

“Yes, but it was Wubwub’s idea that I so do. I am very sorry about this. Can you help us find shelter?”

“They’re so little,” said Babs, leaning over the Metamartians. “They’re really from another world? Oh, I’d do anything for them. Do you guys want to live in one of my cupboards? Or I could find a dollhouse.”

“It’s too risky, Babs,” said Yoke. “As soon as people—or the moldies— find out about them, they’re going to want to kill them. The place could be bombed. We’d all die and the Metamartians would escape as usual.”

“I ain’t livin’ in no dollhouse,” said Wubwub “I’m gonna alla me a right-size body.” There was a sound like a loud handclap and a bigger copy of Wubwub appeared, knee high and pig-sized. “I’m gonna get more respect if I’m this size,” said the fresh Wubwub. “You know what I’m sayin’?”

“I want to be large as well,” said Shimmer. Ptah, Peg, Siss, and Haresh chimed in too. “I’m no insect.” “The floor is vile with dust.” “Someone might step on me.” “I’ll be tall, not small.”

There were five more explosive sounds as the necessary volumes of air were converted into patterned imipolex. And now Yoke’s sleeping corner was crowded with a marble woman, a bronze man, a blonde unicorn, a green python, a black pig, and a giant bird with a yellow mask around its eyes. This made thirteen Metamartians in all: a single Josef, still the size of a beetle, plus big and small versions of each of the six others.

“Praise Om,” said the new Metamartians.

“This is insane,” said Babs. “What happens to the little guys now?”

“We feel it’s ecologically unsound for one of us to have more than one body in a given time-line,” piped the tiny Shimmer. “Farewell.” And the six small Metamartians dissolved into poofs of air—effectively killing themselves.

“I don’t think people could ever act that way,” marveled Yoke.

Josef buzzed over to perch on Yoke’s pillow. “I’m happy to see you again, Yoke,” he said.

“What happened to you on Vava’u?” asked Yoke. “You disappeared when I needed you. When all those Tongans were crowding in on me.”

“There was no way out for you,” said Josef. “You’d painted yourself into a corner, as one says. Remember that we can see a little way into the future. I didn’t want to be there when Tashtego and Daggoo arrived to deliver the great scolding.”

Babs was all agog, smiling at and touching the aliens. “I don’t know what to ask first,” she laughed. “Where you’re from, what you want—this is wonderful. At first I thought you were just Silly Putters, or moldies.”

“Our essence is energy,” said Shimmer. “We can incorporate ourselves in various ways. The moldie form seems to be convenient. For now.” She glanced up at the sunlit windows high in the warehouse walls. “I’m ready to get out and about and see some things. To be a tourist! Our plan for now is to blend in and mingle. And then Om will spread the allas, and we’ll mate, and we’ll move on.”

A warning gong sounded, meaning that someone had just entered Babs’s front door. “Maybe that’s Randy and Cobb,” said Babs, looking upset. “They went out last night and they never came back.” She hurried off.

“Great day in the morning!” came Randy Karl Tucker’s voice. “You’re all paisleyed up there, Babs. Checkerboard paisley everywhar!”

Cobb’s deep voice murmured something. And then there was a crash of someone knocking over a chair.

“You gross cheeseball. Randy!” cried Babs. “And you’re lifted on camote? Here I thought we might start a relationship and you act so—so disgusting! You’re a sporehead _and _a cheese-ball. I wish I’d never seen you! And, no, you can’t go back there.”

The low rumble of Cobb’s voice came again, and then Randy’s voice lifted in incoherent ranting that segued into words. “Hiiigh as a kite tail! Babs don’t want me to head this-a-way, Jose? Well that’s whar I’m a-goin’!” Another crash, followed by snorting sounds and more yelling. “Fee-fie-foe-fum, I smell _fuck plastic!” _A pile of books tumbled over, and then Randy appeared, followed by Cobb and Babs.

Yoke had never seen Randy like this. Instead of his usual timid, introverted self, he was wild and expansive. For his part, Cobb looked the way he had after all that betty in Tonga. Quivery. Evidently the two of them had spent the night on the _Anubis _getting lifted and having sex with hooker moldies. Like great-grandfather, like great-grandson. Icky, sad, and kind of funny. Yoke felt sorry for Babs. She’d obviously had hopes for Randy.

At the sight of the aliens, Cobb hiccupped and sat down on the floor, his skin rippling with rapid wrinkles. Randy made a beeline for Shimmer, shoving Peg the unicorn to one side.

“Dog with an antler, what the hell. Look at this milky mama.” He lurched forward, throwing his arms around Shimmer’s neck and sniffing deeply. “Hey thar. Want to make twenty bucks the hard way?”

“Greetings, Randy. I am Shimmer from Metamars.”

“Whoah!” said Randy. “I’m in looove. Sex with an alien! He ardently embraced Shimmer, and instead of pushing him away, the alien lowered herself down onto Yoke’s bed with Randy on top of her. Yoke sprang up, getting well out of range. “If we do it, can I have an alla too, Shimmer?” Randy was saying. “I’m the natural man to show you the facts o’ life.”

Even though Shimmer was making a noise that could have been laughter, Ptah and Wubwub dragged Randy off of Shimmer, Ptah pulling Randy’s legs and Wubwub pushing his chest with his snout. Siss wrapped herself around Randy’s body, strapping down his arms. Haresh the giant mynah bird strutted over to peer at Randy’s face.

“Is this typical human mating behavior?” asked Haresh, cocking his head.

“Don’t even,” said Babs. “He is so far from any semblance.”

“Randy’s a cheeseball,” explained Yoke. “He likes to have sex with moldies. He thought you were a moldie, Shimmer.”

“Who says she ain’t?” said Randy, trying to raise his hand to his face, seeming not to understand that his arm was held I down by Siss’s coils. “The nose knows.” Randy kept on trying to move his arm, soddenly struggling against Siss.

“Let him go,” said Shimmer. “He’s harmless.”

“I wouldn’t trust him,” said Ptah. “What if he somehow pollutes your plastic?” But Siss went ahead and uncoiled.

“Once I git naked, I’ll do some harm on you all right,” said Randy, crawling forward to rest his head facedown in Shimmer’s lap. He inhaled deeply. “The nose knows.” This time Randy managed to lay his finger against his nose, but in the process he rolled off of Shimmer’s thighs, bounced off the edge of the bed, and clunked his head on the floor. “Ow,” said Randy, and fell asleep.

“What a colorful individual,” said Shimmer.

“I pick the absolute worst men,” said Babs.

“I hope you have some other prospects,” said Yoke.

“There’s always Theodore,” said Babs. “I’m going to do a mental reset, Yoke. Like ‘Randy is just a friend and I have no feelings for this man.’ Reset, reset, reset. Yes, I’m going to call Theodore today. He’s been wanting to take me out to a brain-concert.”

“You go, girl,” said Yoke. “I wonder if I’m going to have to wash Cobb again.”

“What do you mean?” asked Babs.

“He’s high on betty. Last time he got like this he almost died. I had to knead him with my feet for ten minutes in the shower.”

“Betty’s bad,” said Babs. “My mother took it once and—_ugh_.” Yoke recalled that Babs’s mother Wendy Mooney was a human/moldie hybrid. That is, Wendy had a tank-grown human body that was run by a scarf-shaped moldie that did all the actual thinking.

Now Babs went back to marveling at the aliens. “Randy’s right,” she said, petting Peg’s mane. “You seem just like moldies. But—prettier. I don’t mind if you stay here for a while. I don’t really mind the moldie smell, you know. It reminds me of my mother. Tell me