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Chapter 2: (Photosynthesis boy meets Hobbes, werd…)
Many things have been said about the rainforests of South America. “They have hundreds of undiscovered species still living there. The cures for all of the worlds diseases are there just waiting to be cultured from the plants who dwell a quiet life of dignity on the rotting forest floor. Somewhere in it’s dense interior the fountains of youth lay hidden by waterfalls full of gold. Possibly ancient tribes could still be living there, totally and blissfully unaware of the money pressed pace of technological evolution that was destroying their brethren in the outer unforested world.” Regardless if any of these are true or not, one thing is for certain, the rainforests of South America were disappearing at an alarming rate. Societys of the world did little to stop their voracious appetites for wood, even though most of the time they didn’t need it, but just wanted to make sure they had plenty of it handy in case they happened to want to use it. From the time he was a boy until the time of his death facing the firing squads of the Chilean dictator Visenyo de la Piedad, Fernando El Debusto was constantly fighting to save the trees that he thought could save the world.
He had in fact been born in a tree. His mother had been fleeing from a Komodo Dragon that had escaped from the Zoo of Brazil (Komodo Dragons normally would have no business being in Brazil, unless on vacation and then only in the dry parts) and to tired to run any further with her heavily pregnant body she struggled to climb the nearest tree she could find, which happened to be a ten years young Red Oak (which also had no business being in Brazil, but no one knows why it was there). Not knowing of the dragon like patience that this Komodo Dragon possessed, Fernando’s mother ended up cowering in the red oak in fear for her unborn child for two days, drinking rainwater as it slowly dripped off of the leaves around her, saying a prayer of thanks to Mother Mary for every drop she could manage and beseeching her God to give her the strength to birth her son into the world. On the third day of her incarceration she could hold it no longer, and painfully started to birth her child. Her limbs shaking with raking waves of pain she tenderly set her left leg down on a branch above her. The two branches above her supported her legs like a doctors hands normally would have, softly and without saying much. She screamed in anguish for hours as blood from her womb dripped down the tree and pooled around the Dragon like a bright red path leading up to the meal he wanted, enticing him and enflaming his hunger to frenetic heights. The dragon circled the tree faster and faster, clicking his claws against the trunk in hopes of frightening his prey to make a mistake and fall out of her hiding place. With one final push Fernando’s mother brought fourth her son into the world in wet sticky beauty with a scream of pain, relief and surprise. As young Fernando’s sobs rent the damp heavy air for the first time the shiny, sticky placenta and muddied water from his mothers womb fell lightly onto the circling Dragon. The Dragon lept upon these utterances, and ate them accordingly, rolling his tongue over his face and into the crevaces of his skin and eyes and nostrils to absorb as many nutrients as possible. Being full and not wanting anything to do with this frightening new creature who’s screams were drowning out the rest of the forest, the Dragon slowly ambled away, looking over its shoulder once before cresting the last ridge, the sunlight pausing to gather menacingly in his eyes as he contemplated going back. Thus Fernando De Busta was infused with an undying gratitude for and love of trees that would stay with him until his last years in his bedroom hammock, overlooking the remains of his forest. For most of his childhood Fernando would be found lounging around in the arms of trees, making friends with the birds and monkeys who lived there. His human friends were few but loyal, as they normally owed there lives to Fernando when he saved them from falling out of trees. As he grew Fernando took on the qualities of his silent siblings. He was quiet but knew when to speak, peacable but knew when to act and possessed a quiet integrity and dignity that his friends tried often to emulate. One day while in school at the Univeristy of Brazil, where he was studying botany, Fernando got wind of a new condo development project that would need to clear out the section of rainforest that he called his home. He tore the bulletin off of the wall it had been posted on and ran to the Dean’s office. Breathlessly he burst into the door with a loud crash and flurry of papers without knocking, catching the dean taking a small sip of amber colored whiskey. The dean choked softly and set the glass down in his desk drawer, slamming it closed quickly with an annoyed gesture.
“Fernando, how many times have I told you to knock first before entering?” the Dean asked.
“I am begging your forgivness Dean Petrone, but this bulletin I found on the wall alarms me.” Ferando said. Dean Petrone leaned forward in his brown leather chair slightly and stretched out his gnarled hand. Fernando hesitated a moment, then stepped forward swiftly and handed it to the Dean, not letting go until he was positive the Dean had a firm grasp on it since Fernando knew that the Dean suffered from arthritis. The Deans sleepy half opened eyes flicked over the document for a moment. He let it fall back to his desk with a sigh and said.
“You must realize this development is vital to the economic growth of that region. Surely you would not want to stop us all from prospering.” Turning away slightly, the Dean added.
“Everyone knows of your passion for the forest, but this time it is for the greater good.” Then he muttered under his breath, “When I found who posted this in a public place I will skin them alive.” Fernando’s face was becoming darker and darker. The Dean couldn’t have known of Fernando’s history with trees since Fernando’s mother always told him the story as if it were a fiction, and not the truth that it was. Fernando always listened with half an ear, since his mother was always banging on and on about dragons with flashing eyes.
“Dean Petrone, surely you realize this is the last piece of rainforest left in our province. Cutting it down will surely irradicate the remaining populations of animals living their, not to mention remove forever the trees there that shelter us and protect us from the mudslides that destroyed Costa Messa Village.” Fernando quieted then, he had already started to raise his voice and didn’t want to get visibly angry. He would always be in control of his own actions, just as his trees were. What Fernando had not realized yet due to his youth was that his trees didn’t control anything at all. All of their lives were spent flowing with the wind, water and seasons that the earth kept spinning their way. If they could have reached out and spoken to Fernando, they would have told him that his argument was specious, there was no way that mankind would ever realize the foolishness of their endeavors unless they could be shown what it could be like to truly fit into the world and not rail against it with infertile concrete futility.
“I’ll here no more on this business of yours Fernando. Besides this argument is irrelevant, there is nothing I can do about the condo development. My influence only goes so far, and the construction company is foreign. They are ignorant to the ways of civilized bribery.” Dean Petrone picked up a file on his desk that held newsclippings his collegue Dr. Vargas had been sending him from the U.S. He clumsily tried to change the subject.
“Interesting business going on up in the states. It seems people are flying.”
Fernando lost hold of his last string of patience.
“Good day to you Dean Petrone, I will take my complaints elsewhere.” Fernando bowed stiffly and walked out swiftly, leaving the Dean in his office pretending to be interested in the newspaper articles.
“Fernando, this will not do you any good.” Dean Petrone called after him in a high tremulous voice. “This machine is to large, if you fight it you will just get hurt.”
Fernando added more speed to his retreat as he left the administrations building and started walking down Casa Azule street to the Province Magistrates office. His last chance was to lodge a formal complaint agaist the development with the magistrate and beseech for a petition. If he could get enough prominent citizens with influence to sign the petition he could get the development postponed, maybe even relocated. Surely the wealthy families would see the truth behind his words? Fernando rehearsed his speeches for the separate families as he walked down the street, judging which tactics would be most useful with which families. With the Del Reys he would have to be flattering and gregarious. They always liked nothing more than to hear about how much other people envied their wealth and influence. Their eldest son Don Marco had recently bought every newspaper in the province to make sure his birthday extravagances were mentioned and covered in detail. The Rio Negra family would require a more subtle approach. They only gave out their favors to those that had already done them a service. Luckily for Fernando, he had once saved a distant cousin of the family from being bitten by a serpent when she was practicing walking with her held high so she did not have to look at commoners. The last family would be the hardest. The Buendia’s were an ancient family, dating back to the founding of the province of Manuas. Legend said that Garcia Buendia, the founding patriarch of the family, had led his people to Manuas through the then endless rainforest, braving lizard dragons and blood thirsty tribesman. The Buendia family was proud and lofty about their honor. Owners of much of the land in Manuas, they had no need of bribes like the other influential families. With this family Fernando would have to appear sincere and honest, which was not a problem because he was just that. Fernando quickly created a list of other families in his mind and started reviewing it. Camoes, Lusiads, Latium, Cervantes, all would have to be handled differently. The list went on and on, becoming a monster from another world threatening to devour Fernandos memory with their fangs full of historical poison. So preoccupied was Fernando that he ran into an old man on a donkey who was struggling to cross the street. The donkey looked at him with a sarcastic and intelligent stare, even though the only thought that was forming in it’s head was “I need to shit.” The old man turned around slowly and fixed Fernando with a curious half lidded smile. Fernando stammered an apology as he tried to pull his gaze from the mans deep violet eyes that seemed to have no center. Kicking the donkey softly in the ribs, the old man moved further across the street without saying anything. Fernando kept moving and reached the building on the next block.
The magistrates office was located in a huge post world war 2 portugese palace, that had been built to house visiting dignitaries in the Manuas region. It was two stories taller than any of the other 19th century structures in the city and always reminded Fernando of an old woman sitting down eating a banana. Still and unmoving as a virgin on her wedding night, Fernando stood on the side of the street wondering how he would form his request. Should he start with a bribe and a cocky western attitude? Or should he try to appeal to the man’s sense of empathy. Most likely the magistrate would be a bueracrat and need to be shown how he could benefit. Fernando reached down with his left hand and examined the contents of his pocket. Twenty four pesos and a Russian Ruble that he had found in a dirty sock in the park the week before. Not even enough for a meager bribe, especially a province official. What Fernando did not know was that the Magistrate was a woman, and hated corruption. Clenching the money in his fist with a frustrated groan, Fernando started walking towards the Magistrates building, not knowing that the magistrate, Beatrix Del Rio, would turn him out at the site of his bribe. Two steps brought him to a soft squish accompanied by a potent smell and Fernando realized he had stepped in donkey shit. As he looked up to say something to the driver he had seen a moment before a military helicopter that had been out of on maneuvers was falling out of the sky right on top of him. With a unflinching look of forced serenity Fernando said his last rights as he was sure he was going to die and there was no priest handy. Moving as if in a river current the flaming hunk of metal drifted toward Fernando, and he could make out the small details that only the soon to be dead are privileged enough to see. The pilot and co-pilot confessing their love to one another, the rotar blades slicing into the top of the magistrates building, the disinterested looks the birds on the telephone wires gave the burning carnage. All of these things were witnessed in exquisite detail by Fernando as he accepted that death was now inevitable since he was to frightened to move. The last thought that went through his mind as he judged the ten million dollar hand-me-down from the U.S. government was finally about to smash into him was, “I would have done anything to save my trees.” Flashing light engulfed him then, and once he became as accustomed to the pain of this new brightness as was possible he realized it was to constant to be from the fire that had been coming from the helicopter. Fernando writhed in agony as he drifted through limbo, pummeled inside and out by the merciless, unwavering light. Bordering on physical touch, the light illuminated every crevace of his body on every side, seemingly with no central source. It was as if the light were creating itself from each of the trillion million molecules that composed whatever it was Fernando was trying to gasp into his lungs as he experienced unkown heights of pain. For an instant he sensed another presence next to him but then it was gone, and swiftly after the light cut off abrubtly bringing the pain with it like a parent leading a reluctant child. Fernando layed curled up in a ball for several moments, trying to catch his breath as the memory of the pain finally faded also, retreating to the back of Frernando’s mind as one of his worst memories. It would one day be joined by memories of a woman with hair the color of earth and eyes that would strip his soul bear and leave a hole in his heart when she was thought dead, only to resurface a year later. Thus she would be Fernando’s worst and favorite memory at the same time. Finally Fernando regained control of his body and drifting conciousness. Cautiously he sat up and examined his body for injuires. No blood on his long,lean legs. There was nothing missing from his delicate pianists fingers. No blood dripping over his gentle face. With a sigh of relief Fernando stood up and gazed around him with a startled curiousity. He was standing in the exact same place that he had been moments before Uncle Sam’s metal machine had almost rendered him unrecognizable. Only the world seemed to have gone slightly mad, as in the sense that there was not a single person to be seen anywhere, and not a single burning helicopter to be found. The silence was broken every so often by the call of monkeys or birds. That was when Fernando noticed what else it was that had changed. The forest that he loved so much had reclaimed all of it’s lost territory. Trees were growing and well established in the streets, as far upstreet as the Patriots Sqaure and down to De La Cruz street, which was as far as Fernando could see. A water fall was now flowing through the magistrates office where the helicopter blades had slashed through it, and the spray from it wafted refreshingly onto Fernando’s face. The whole scene brought a sense of erie peace to Fernando’s weary soul, and he drank it in eagerly. But where were all the people? At that moment Fernando heard someone jump to the ground behind him, and spun quickly with fists raised and eyes blazing. He dropped them quickly though when he saw that it was the old man with the strange eyes he had seen earlier jumping down from his donkey cart. The donkey was still giving Fernando a sarcastic stare, but other thoughts were on its mind. The old man doffed his straw hat at Fernando and walked over to the De La Cruz Café and sat down at one of the vacant metal tables with two wicker chairs.
“Come, sit, I promise I will explain everything.” The Old Man said in a deep reasurring voice. He gently nudged the other chair with his foot to move it out from under the table for Fernando. Quickly glancing down Fernando noticed the man was wearing strange floral pattern shorts and long black socks pulled up to his knees.
“This conversation is going to be very diffucult if I have to speak to you over there” the Old Man said loudly. “You have my word that no harm will come to you, and that is saying something.” Fernando blinked, then cautiously walked over to wear the old man was sitting. Again he felt a squish under his foot, but this time his left. He looked down to see he had again stepped in donkey shit. With a sharp turn of his head he regarded the donkey menacingly, who in turn snorted and tossed it’s head in challenge. Cautiously Fernando approached the white metal table. It was old but had been repainted recently, so the rust that was slowly eating it alive wasn’t visible yet. He sat down in the chair and pulled it forward slightly so he could rest his shaking arms on the table.
“What has happened here?” he asked quietly in his most respectful tone of voice. There was something about the man’s bearing that radiated power. Fernando looked up at the strangely dressed old man and was startled to see that a tasty looking course of figs, dates, and Coke had been set out on the table. The old man was already stuffing his face. When and how it got there were two questions that Fernando decided would have answers he wouldn’t like. The Old Man swallowed and finally looked up at Fernando.
“Even 1,433 years later I can still taste the shit that your species put in this soil.”
“One thousand thirrr…wait where are we?” Fernando stammered as he anxiously whipped his head back and forth.
“It is not a question of where, but more of when. I just advanced you, Donkey, and myself into an alternate future where humans vanished from the planet 1,433 years previously. I think it is a marked improvement, but who am I to judge?” Fernando stood up abrubtly, knocking his chair onto the ground and startling Donkey, who again shat on the ground for the third time. Near panic, Fernando tried to put as much distance between himself and the lunatic with the defecating donkey. Pumping his arms and legs as fast as he could manage without passing out or tripping he tore down De La Cruz Street and passed the Maidens Fountain, which was overgrown with vines and moss, causing the naked woman that adorned it to look like a very sexy green plant spitting out water. Exhausted he collapsed on the edge of the fountain and tried to catch his breath. The Old Man wasn’t lying, there was not a soul to be seen in the city. The cars were all rusted to nothing and most of the walls and buildings were falling apart as he watched them. In the distance he saw a cell phone tower that had been constructed only a few months ago (1,433 years and a few months ago) fall over into the forest with a resounding crash. A massive dust cloud was preceded by a herd of very pissed of birds and monkeys screaming there anger to the heavens as the massive metal edifice with its dozens of satalite dishes ended its tormented and boring existence.
Fernando pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, burying his head inbetween his knees. After several deep breaths he was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to cry. The Maiden of the fountain looked down at him through her green clothing with empathy as he rocked slowly back and forth, trying to come to grips with his dead, thriving new world. This was what he wanted wasn’t it? The forest to be put back to it’s natural state, living the free life that it deserved? But he had wanted people to live with the forest as part of it, not leave. He never wanted them to leave. Was this his fault? Was he responsible? Who would he confess to? No one was left to deny his stammered apologies. No one was there to show him with expensive and proffesional looking charts how this was not an economically sound and comfortable state of affairs. No one except the frightening, bizarre, old man back at the café. If any answers were to be gleaned Fernando would have to go back and have tea with his last remaining neighbor. With a sigh of resignation and apprehension Fernando lay down on the marble ledge he was sitting on, hoping to get a better sense of things if he could only see the sky. At least that hadn’t changed. The things flying in it, however, had defiantly changed. The airplanes were gone, but the birds looked different than any he had seen before. A flock of strange fuzzy animals was leaping from treetop to treetop with alarming grace and speed. The seemed to be relatives of the flying squirrel Fernando knew back in his own time, but they were much bigger and all around more fuzzy. The tales were fuzzier, their wings were fuzzier, hell even their feet were fuzzier. And they were not afraid.
Only hesitating for a second four of the fuzzballs in front glided down from the trees to rest a few feet away from Fernando. They stared at Fernando for a moment then slowly crawled forward. Fernando was having a hard time feeling alarmed, as these were without a doubt the cutest things he had ever seen. The fuzzball in front, who also happened to have the most fuzz, advanced a little farther than it’s companions until it was only a foot away from Fernando’s head laying down lazily on the cracked and mossy marble.
“Hello their my fuzzy friend.” Fernando said softly. “Did you come to look at the pretty green lady?” The fuzzball looked at him for a second, as if Fernando had just done something exceedingly strange. Then it spoke.
“Hello yourself my bald friend. I am here to look at the last human on Earth. Did you know you are the only endangered species on the planet right now? I hope the irony doesn’t escape you.” The speaking, intelligent and sarcastic fuzzball turned to his companions for a moment and squeaked something in what Fernando assumed was their native toungue. The other fuzzballs seemed to laugh with their faces behind their tales. Fernando finally recovered from the shock of a Spanish speaking fuzzball over a thousand years in the future.
“What is it? What is so funny?” Fernando looked closely at the fuzzball and noticed that it had dark earthy brown bracelets encircling both of it’s wrists and it’s ankles. The other fuzzball’s also had them, but theirs were green. The fuzzball who had spoken turned its fuzzy head towards Fernando again. It took a moment to scratch it’s face softly with it’s hind leg, a gesture that calmed Fernadno a bit.
The fuzz spoke again. “It’s just that you looked like you were actually scared of a bunch of fuzzy flying squirrels. I have never seen a human before, but our histories make you out to be a little more frightening. Our’s is the dominant species on land now, with the dolphins handling anything in the oceans. They are a sassy bunch with their fast moving transports and water guns, but we all get along reasonably well enough. Haven’t you seen Hobbes yet? I bet he is lookin’ everywhere for you”
“Excuse me, but who are you talking about?” Fernando asked. Just then Fernando heard a chorus of clicking around him in the trees and looked up to see strange white creatures sitting in the branches watching them. They had strange black eyes and mouths that looked like smiley faces and their bodies were shaped like infant children. They all seemed to glow a bit, and they were all smiling.
“Don’t be frightened, those are just the Kodanmas. They came over from China after the human population dipped below five hundred. They actually existed in your time, but were to weak to take physical form because of all the dead trees.” The fuzz patted Fernando’s hand reassuringly, looking up at him with apparent concern.
“Im sorry, but what are they?” Fernando asked. “And who is Hobbes and why is he looking for me?”
The fuzz sat down with its feet dangling in the water of the fountain, staring up at the Green Lady. It’s companions did likewise, chattering back and forth amongst themselves. “A Kodanma is a tree spirit. Every tree has one, but they can only take visual form when they have enough communal strength. As of now trees have a population roughly thirty times what they did than when you considered normal.” The fuzz looked over at Fernando and winked, which seemed a very strange thing for a fuzzy talking flying squirrel to do. “Hobbes is the person sitting next to you.” Fernando looked over and jumped backward with a yell. This sent him splashing into the fountain, coming up with water sloshing from his mouth and nose and a few very put out goldfish in his shirt pocket. Sure enough, the old man was sitting on the marble next to were Fernando had been sitting just a moment ago. Smiling slightly with a look of amusement on his face, the old man helped Fernado back up onto the marble.
“You ran off before I got a chance to introduce myself. My name is Hobbes, and I have a very important task for you, if you’ll take it.”
