CHAPTER 12
THE BORROWER
Shedding emotional tears releases useful oxytocin and endorphin, often referred to as the happy hormones. A few minutes earlier and a trillion miles away from the Peak District, the captive's cell presented as a dark perfect cube, dimly lit from warm yellow pinpoints of light embedded in each of its eight corners.
"Why I am I here?" raged the captive into the shadowy void before him.
He was all cried out and a chill ran across his shoulders and neck as once more a beaked face appeared to meet him eye-to-eye. The face was shaded behind a semi-translucent glass wall, and menacing light-play gave this captor the semblance of a hugely contorted and ageing bantam chicken. The chicken's captive squeezed his eyes together for a few seconds and reopened them. He calmed his breathing. His head felt warm, as if a heat was resonating from the high-backed chair supporting his neck. A trickle of sweat ran down his spine and soaked into his lumberjack shirt.
The creature in front of him appeared very old and real and not the joke horror of Halloween fancy-dress. The eyes moved perfectly in its creased chicken-like skull and the domed tongue occasionally glimpsed within its mustard-yellow beak was no artifice. Yet a rational mind would tell anyone it could not be a real chicken because it was over five feet tall.
And it talked.
"I am just planning to borrow you."
"Burrow me! Well, you can just f..."
"I have not abducted you. I am simply borrowing you."
"Burrowing me?" challenged the captive.
"No, I said borrowing you."
"Well, it sounds like you are saying..."
"One second," spoke the chicken-thing, and ran a talon of its hand-sized claw down the side of its neck to a half-way point and then depressed and twisted a half-turn deep into its scaly feathers. There was the faintest of clicks and its eyes grimaced.
"Burrow... borrow, borrow. Is that better?" it asked.
The captive stared incredulous through the thin light at the apparition separated by thick glass. To gain inner strength he recalled his father's memory. Straining to sit upright, his hands turned to fists as they pulled against the wrist restraints. A silence lingered.
"I need you for a little while. We all need you," said the creature. "And then you'll forget about it."
The captive's lobes were both hurting, and he was dehydrating from the heat resonating through his headrest. The restraints chafed his wrist, and each foot swelled inside its boot. His father's long-coat was missing and he strained to see where this may be lain.
Kicking his boot heels against the floor, he tried to turn and look behind, but the smooth high back of his chair obstructed any real view. This had well and truly turned into the biggest mistake of his life.
He heard the faint sound of a door hissing open and sensed something very large leaving the room. A thin shaft of light briefly lit the chamber's deep grey interior. His cell stood in its dead-centre. The external door closed to leave only the pinpoint corner lights of this crystal cube and the bantam head slowly reappeared behind the glass.
Once more it spoke.
"I need you to answer some questions."
The captive held a blank stare, without responding.
"Your planet," it began, "has circled its star over four point five billion times. Do you know when you evolved?"
"What!"
"When did you start?"
The captive experienced a startling compulsion to tell the truth yet could not explain to himself why.
"What do you mean, my planet? Are you asking me when humans evolved?"
"Yes, that is correct. I am learning more all the time, and human is what I understand you call yourself?"
"If you're asking me about human evolution, you've got the wrong guy mate. I'm not an anthropologist."
Once more, the off-yellow beak flashed a glimpse of its mottled pink tongue.
"Just tell me what you know," it demanded.
The perfect cube of glass separating them began to hum faintly.
"I don't know anything," seethed the captive.
"I will be the judge of that," snapped the chicken-creature. "Just tell me."
"You mean about humans? It's not my specialty. We came from the apes."
"Okay, apes. As in, your monkeys. Do you know when?"
"Well, if you want to be pedantic, it was apes specifically. Monkeys are a different line. But anyway, I'm not so sure. Humans, homo sapiens, we descended from apes a few million years ago, via homo erectus and habilis."
"And before that?"
"Before apes? I'm really the wrong guy for this."
"Try," came the order.
Without understanding why, the captive remained compelled to talk.
"Well, the apes evolved from other mammals. And those other mammals evolved from yet more creatures. On and on and back in time. Unless..." he paused.
"Unless what?"
"Well, unless you believe in The Creator. Or a divine intervention."
"The Creator? Okay, tell me about that then."
"Look Foghorn Leghorn, I'm neither a paleontologist nor a priest..." yelled the captive. He then stretched his neck awkwardly from side-to-side. The overwhelming feeling to tell some truths hit him again. He coughed out. "I've... I've studied the basics, but just the basics, about how we hummed along as bacteria for a few billion years, and then... bang!" He squeezed his eyes together tightly before continuing. "About five hundred million years ago in the Cambrian Period all life exploded. A literal explosion with loads of life in it, and all in just a few million years. Life of different types, everywhere on the planet. Blah blah blah. And then things continued to move on much quicker from there."
He took a deep breath. These words were coming forcibly out of him and he twisted his spine in his seat trying to ease the discomfort.
"Five hundred million years ago," came back the challenge from the partially feathered head. "So, you are aware of this sudden change?"
"No, I'm not!"
"But you know it's too quick?" said the bantam flatly and again the mottled tongue licked its lower beak. "Why did it happen?
"What do you mean, why?"
"Why did all this life, all this evolution, suddenly start accelerating on your planet?"
"I don't know! It's maybe called the Cambrian Explosion for a reason. Apparently, it's still a mystery with lots of theories that don't fully stack up, and so lots of disagreement. And I personally have no... idea." It felt such a relief to say that. "Maybe you should ask... God."
"God? Who is your God?"
"Wow... okay wow. Now there's a question. You really don't know much do you. It's just... God. Depending on your religion he is called lots of names. But, you know, God. As in the Creator."
The plumy face leant back away from the glass cube, almost disappearing into the dark.
"God," it said finally. "A Creator you say. I need more data from the Superchamber to understand all of this." Its voice faded away as it vanished into the blackness.
***
The captive's wrists struggled uselessly against his restraints. The confining glass cube glowed faintly yet the chamber behind remained dim and murky.
The ageing feathered creature returned, once more leaning in towards the thick pane that separated it from its captive. In tilting forward, the crown of the fowl head revealed feather-like crimson tufts as it continued the interrogation.
"I have more data now on your Cambrian Explosion," it said.
"It's not my Cambrian Explosion..."
"So, let's move on... when did humans develop off-world travel?"
"Jesus, we've jumped on a bit from evolution."
"Not really," muttered the beak, and then more firmly, "Just answer the question."
The captive's eyes flared, and he bit his lower lip to reestablish his silence, whilst clenching both fists to test the strength of his wrist restraints. They were held firm. None of this was what he had signed up for.
The demand was repeated.
"Answer the question!"
Muteness persisted, yet the captive was unnerved by a growing and persistent compulsion from within to speak openly and truthfully.
The forehead and beak disappeared into the dim light once again, and a new warmth and faint thrumming radiated from the headrest of the cell's chair.
"Speak the truth," came the command from behind the glass.
"I don't know what you mean!"
"Tell me when you started off-world travel. You will give me the truth."
The captive began angrily blurting out another uncontrollable stream of words from his mouth.
"We began in the Sixties. The Russians led the way to begin with. They started with a stray mongrel called Laika, and then Yuri Gagarin was the first man in space. They started their Soyuz missions, but a few years later the Americans entered the space-race and caught up. They beat the Soviets to the Moon, landing there with Apollo 11 in 1969."
He gasped a sudden intake of breath. His ankles tensed against their restricting belts. He had no idea where these words were coming from, nor why he was reeling them off. He knew vague facts about these historic missions yet would never use such detail to answer a simple question. Especially a question he had no intention of answering. His head throbbed with ache, and the heat from the chair was unbearable.
"Stop this!" he pleaded. "You're torturing me."
"I just need the truth and we will be done. You can't lie to the Veracity Resonator, so please don't lie to me. Tell me, when did you develop off-world travel?"
"I've just told you! It started around twenty years ago."
"Do not lie."
"What's a Veracity Resonator?" screamed the captive.
"It's the feeling you have in your head, making you tell the truth. When did you develop space travel?"
"Stop it! My head's going to explode. I've told you the truth..."
"No, you haven't"
"...Wait! You just said I can't lie to the Veracity Resonator!"
"That is true," confirmed the giant bantam.
"So..."
"So what?"
"Work it out for yourself!" came the roared response.
There was a pause, and a breath of realization.
"You are not lying," said the beak finally, its blotched tongue flicking back and forth.
"I'm not lying!" exclaimed Duke.
"But humans went to their Moon nearly sixty of your years ago."
"Sixty! No, we didn't! That's your mistake."
"We don't make mistakes."
"And I'm saying you do."
The chicken-like head tilted back so only its beak was visible in the poor light.
"Hmm," the creature persisted, "so when did humans travel to the other planets?"
"We haven't had any manned missions to other planets yet."
"Oh yes you have," it replied.
There was a long pause and then a sudden hiss. The rear pane of confining glass cube swung away. All heat emanating from the high-back chair subsided. Seconds later the wrist restraints popped open, and a surprised captive instinctively rubbed life back into their chafed skin.
"I am genuinely so sorry," came the sad warble from a beaked mouth. "I just needed the truth quickly and efficiently."
Rising slowly from his chair, the captive turned to look at the creature. Its oppressive presence remained, although the thick glass no longer separated them. It had feather-like down on its neck, wrapped by what appeared as a cloak, extending from its rounded shoulders down towards its oddly shaped yellow boots, tipped with individual toe sections.
It was a short, squat creature that stood vertical yet slightly stooped with age. As familiarity with its shape gently grew it became less terrifying, and the captive's instinctive insult of Foghorn Leghorn gave him a wry smile.
"I see that hopefully you are relaxing a little," it said. "I now accept that everything you told me was the truth... at least from your perspective."
"Sorry! That's all you've got to offer... a simple sorry. Where is my dad's coat?"
The creature looked around uncertainly, shrugged slightly and attempted a gentle smile back. Ignoring the last question, it continued.
"I am truly sorry."
"Why am I being held captive? It's not what I signed up for."
"You are no longer a captive. You are now my companion."
"Companion! Companion to what?"
"I need to learn more about this historical Cambrian Explosion, and what you know about spaceflight. None of what you told me makes sense so far."
"Why? What's going on? I never agreed to anything like this. Why are you asking me about evolution and off-world travel?"
"These are the reasons I am here now."
"Who and what are you?"
"Come with me, and I'll explain" it said. "But first I'd like you to meet my other companion, Zero."
***
Leaving his glass cell, the new companion followed the bantam-creature from the chamber. He noticed more dense tufts of feathers falling below its cloak. The corridors they walked through were small and cramped. Since arriving in his somnolent state, claustrophobic dimly lit enclosures had been his sole experience. They reached a door, deeply recessed from the corridor. Out of the shadows a colossal chrome beast emerged.
Some eight feet tall, angular shoulders connected muscular, over-lengthened arms to its smoothed, powerful torso. Trunk-like legs flowed seamlessly into two rounded feet that balanced its bulk. Due to the behemoth's height and the low corridor ceiling, the head was forced forward in an awkward tilt. It was domed and slashed deep with a single cyclops eye that stretched across an empty face. A faint glow of magenta light pulsed rhythmically within.
Both its hands were formed of three chrome digits. The palm of one stuck firm to a textured square panel beside the door. The beast was silent and immobile.
"This is Zero," said the fowl. "It seems we haven't timed our introductions so well. He is upgrading."
On cue the textured squared panel partially covered by the robot's hand, emitted the faintest bip and displayed a small phrase:
Step 2. Verifying Download. 68%
"What the hell is that!" yelled the companion, pointing straight into the metal beast's eye. "And what is a... download?"
"All valid questions," replied the old chicken.
"Valid questions! I'll give you valid questions. Who are you? What are you? And where the hell are we?"
Responding to this demand the bantam-creature squeezed passed the chrome titan, moving to open the door before him.
"Yes, yes, more valid questions," he said, looking back before turning to step through.
"So, if I really am your companion now, answer them!"
"I will. I will. You can be assured I'll answer everything, and I suggest we calm down a little. Please come with me."
The door swung away to reveal an impressive flight cockpit dominated by a principal pilot chair, two rear jump seats, all surrounded by myriad switches, displays and dials.
Easing cautiously past the robot, the companion followed into the room. He then caught short and audibly gasped.
The chairs, switches and dials were crowned by a dramatic sweeping window spanning the full length of the cabin. From tip to tip the reinforced glass displayed a deep and wonderous starlit universe through which they were travelling at superluminal speed.
"We are here," replied the captor, his odd wing-like arm reaching out a clawed hand in greeting. "My name is Dzkk."
Fully bewildered, the new companion stared wide-eyed at the vista before him. Unable to grasp any hold on the situation, he instinctively accepted the universal gesture from the creature to shake hands, then turned his head to reply in monotone.
"Well, I'm not exactly sure what name you said then...
"I'm Dzkk," repeated the creature.
"Hello Dz... uck? I'm Duke Kramer."
"Yes, I know," said Dzkk. "Welcome Duke."