A Penny in Time Chapter 7: Changin’ Addi-Paddi (part 1)
I could not settle down, so I got up and wandered around the house. Normally, I’m not a worrywart, but I was upset that there wasn’t anymore food for Yugo, and worried what little he had had to eat would only make him hungrier when he woke up. To distract myself, I thumbed through a history book in Mr. D’s library and read the two page-history of the Perpetual City while Yugo and Mr. D slept. Their whispery snores were in sync with one another, which made me laugh out loud as I came back into the room.
I scrunched down on the couch. Yugo curled up beside me, still sound asleep, but sending warm vibes that coated me inside out. He purred and I read.
Although their civilization was thousands of years old, the history book only recounted the last thousand of years: from 999 to 2000, the city, the people, the society, everything was exactly like it had been, was and would be. The rest of the book was pictures, and I had the creepy feeling I could walk outside and find those very landmarks still in existence. Maybe, I looked over at Mr. D sleeping, the very same people. I had heard that history repeats itself, but I had never thought about it literally.
One fact snagged my attention, about the race itself. Mr. D’s genus was Mono, of the family sapiens, and reproduction was “homogenesis”, which I found in the glossary meant “reproduction in which successive generations are alike”. I folded the book shut, wondering if ‘they’ were all of like minds, too. Maybe I stood a chance against a committee that shared genes with Mr. D. Then again, maybe I didn’t, if Mr. D had mutated from the rest of ‘them’. Back and forth, back and forth went my thoughts, always leaving me flooded with doubts. I wish the whole process had started, therefore, had been decided, and was already over.
I heard rustling outside, then a thump against the door and nearly knocked Yugo off the couch when I jumped to my feet. Mr. D bolted from his chair and with his massive hand upraised, blocked me from the front door.
“No, childling, stay!”
Any other time, I might have been offended at being ordered like a dog, but Mr. D, obviously unnerved, only meant to protect me. And Yugo, I think.
“Mr. D, I don’t think anyone is trying to break in.” I pointed to the billowing curtains. “It would have been easier to come through the open window.”
He patted his chest, where I imagined his heart beat. “I have never witnessed so many strange events.” He appeared thoughtful, looking from the window to the door. “I’ve never left that window open before now. And there’s never been any disturbance at my front door.”
“Mr. D,” I took a step forward, “let’s look outside and maybe we can figure out what’s going on.”
He nodded to me. “But you must stay here.” He took purposeful strides to the door and whipped it open.
There was a brown package on the welcome mat. Mr. D stooped and gingerly peeked inside. “Oh, my!” he gasped, as I bumped into his back.
“What is it?” I knelt beside Mr. D, nudging his leg to get a closer look, trying to send reassuring vibes to Yugo so he would stop his frightened mewing.
“It’s…” Mr. D plucked the bag up and smiled at me, a rather pained smile I thought, “a care package. For Yugo.”
Mr. D stepped over me, back inside. “Well, Dusty, I dare say that Yugo will have something good to eat, real food for the nuzzling. I’ll fix it and you feed him.”
After I dusted off my knees, though I really didn’t have to because there wasn’t any dirt on my jeans, I followed Mr. D into the kitchen. Yugo had slipped off the couch and was waddling behind me. “Look at him, Mr. D! Isn’t he cute?”
Mr. D kept his back to me. “Who would do such a thing, leave this for a misbegotten?” he mused, fussing over the large nursing bottle.
I hadn’t forgotten that Mr. D called Yugo ‘nuzzling’, which I thought might be an affectionate term. “Maybe his mother did. Or someone else who doesn’t think it’s right for babies to be left out in the desert to die.” I took the bottle from Mr. D, who frowned like my old principal did the time he caught me swearing when I slammed my locker shut on my left hand.
Yugo pawed at my legs until I picked him up. He snatched at the bottle, giving short ‘yurps’ as he suckled and I tried to balance both him and the bottle with my hands. Mr. D marched out of the kitchen, leaving me alone and wondering what I had said to upset him.
Yugo must have sensed my confusion, for he stopped sucking long enough to peer at me intently, and suddenly a lot of unfriendly faces flashed through my head. Mr. D must be as anxious as I was about this upcoming confrontation. Maybe he had mixed emotions about which side he was going to be on, or what the outcome would be for Yugo and me. I had only begun to appreciate how hard it must be for him to accept changes, let alone campaign for them. But there was someone else out there who wanted to help us, too.
“Mr. D,” I walked over to his chair and he looked up at me, “if there are two of you that feel the way I do about Yugo, then maybe there’s a lot more. We might stand a good chance of convincing the Perfect Council yet.”
Yugo started hiccupping. Mr. D’s nostril flared and he sighed, impatiently waving his hand at Yugo. “He needs to be patted on the back.”
I flipped Yugo over my shoulder and burped him. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Mr. D, something that’s troubling you. And it’s not Yugo, is it?” I put him down on the couch.
Yugo was content to settle between the cushions and go back to sleep. He seemed to have grown another six inches since I had fed him. Yugo gave back to me the love I felt for him as I scratched his head and I was reluctant to let go of the good feelings that flowed between us. But I had to get some things clear. I went over and sat on a footstool in front of Mr. D and waited for him to speak.
He cleared his throat a couple of times. “You’re right, Dusty. Something is wrong, very wrong.” He startled me by reaching over and touching my cheek lightly, then continued. “You have read,” he gestured to the closed history book on the arm of the couch, “about our history. Was it not extraordinary?”
The way he said it, gave me the impression he meant it in a negative way. “Yeah,” I replied, “I thought it was a bit odd.”
“In what way?” he asked kindly, leaning closer to me.
“Two pages about a perfect society. I mean, I guess I thought history told about wars, conflicts, changes, you know, all that happens over years and years. Like evolution.”
“Exactly.” He smacked his hands and smiled like I had answered the winning quiz question.
“Exactly what?” I retorted, baffled by his smug expression.
“Our recorded history begins with the perfected society.” He massaged his knees. “From the time of our recorded history, there are no wars, no unresolved conflicts amongst us. That is why we can exist in the Perpetual City in harmony, a totally homogeneous society. There is no poverty here, for here everything is in balance with our resources. Even our arts and sciences have reached the state of perfection, where all needs are satisfied, for each and everyone of us. Everyone is alike, and there is always agreement. Every action is carefully considered, every consideration balanced. Our marriage contracts are forever and each couple rears two offspring until the age of twenty-one, one quarter of a life span. We are a self-perpetuating society.”
He paused and took a breath. I let all this information sink in, trying to pinpoint what it was that disturbed me. After all, it sounded just fine to me. “Families stay together, right?”
“Yes.” Mr. D locked eyes with me.
“I don’t see the problem.” I held his gaze for a long minute.
“Couples partner for a lifetime; there is no such thing as separation. Each misbegotten comes from an unlawful union, and threatens the balance. Ergo, there cannot be misbegottens.”
Mr. D stroked his chin, and I was hypnotized by the long, silken strands undulating along his arm. I knew his reasoning was wrong. “What about love?” I blurted out, startling both of us.
“There are many forms of love, Dusty,” he answered quietly, and I detected a note of sadness, too. “The good of all is the highest form of love, is it not?”
But before I could answer him, there came a resounding knock on the door. This time Mr. D seemed neither surprised nor unprepared as he opened the door.
“It’s a summons for us to go to the courthouse immediately.”
