The Lord of Opium

Listen chased the water as it receded and ran back when it returned. She paddled it with her hands. “It’s salty,” she cried, licking her fingers. Seagulls floated overhead, and farther out, where it was too hazy to see clearly, a shoal of something dimpled the water. “Oh, boy! I could live here forever!” she yelled, dancing on the sand. Cienfuegos watched her for a while and then urged her to move on because they had to finish the visit before nightfall.

They came to a rocky shore full of tide pools. Sea anemones waved as the water washed over them. Large colonies of purple mussels hung from the rocks, and pale green crabs and orange starfish lurked in shadowy pools. Two men were walking slowly along the beach, one of them busily clicking a calculator. “The mussel population is down,” he announced. The other man removed one of the starfish. “Better take a couple of crabs, too,” advised the first. “They’re upsetting the balance.”

The second man dropped the starfish and crabs into a bag tied to his waist. He put his hands together as though praying, and Listen ran up to him. “What are you doing?” she asked. He ignored her, and she tugged at his tunic. “Hey, mister, are you going to eat those animals?”

He looked down, clearly irritated. “You should be in the Brat Enclosure,” he said.

“We’re visitors,” Cienfuegos said quickly. “We’re from outside.”

The two men looked at him as though he were insane. “Nobody lives Outside,” the man with the calculator said.

“There are legends about people who do,” the other argued. “Once I saw a UFO fly overhead.”

“Only bobos believe in UFOs,” sneered the man with the calculator. “You probably believe in the vampire king with his zombie army, too.”

“There’s no reason to be nasty just because I have an open mind.”

Matt trotted ahead, leaving the men to argue, and signaled for the others to follow him. The story of the vampire king was too much like El Patrón for comfort. Listen huffed and puffed after him until they left the rocky shore and came to a mangrove swamp.

Sluggish fish with large fins clustered around the roots. A group of men were hunting them with spears, and a woman warned, “Don’t take more than sixteen.”

When an animal was collected, the hunter folded his hands and said, “Praise Gaia for this gift of food.”

“They are praying,” said Listen.

“They don’t act like scientists,” said Cienfuegos. He glanced up at the ceiling. “We don’t have much time, so let’s keep moving.” Listen said she was tired, and he lifted her to his shoulders. “If you pull my ears, you’re getting dumped,” he warned just as she reached out to do exactly that.

Next was Sub-Saharan Africa. Giant trees, hung with vines, alternated with grasslands dotted with acacia trees. Antelopes lifted their heads and watched as they passed. “Are there lions here?” whispered Listen, as though speaking aloud might attract them.

“I hope not,” said Cienfuegos. “I think the main predator here is man. Dr. Rivas said this place wasn’t an exact copy of the real world, only an ecosystem that could exist permanently on its own. Its purpose was to create the Scorpion Star, and I don’t think they’ve got lions and grizzly bears up there.”

Butterflies as big as Listen’s hand flapped by, and praying mantises the size of mice swayed drunkenly back and forth as they hunted. “So this is Africa.” The little girl sighed. Guinea fowl scrabbled in the underbrush, and three-foot-long lizards flicked their tongues at the intruders. Cienfuegos put the little girl down and warned her not to touch anything without asking first. But he needn’t have worried. The little girl was cowed by the size and variety of animals around her.

A guinea fowl came right up to Matt’s feet and pecked around his toes. “It isn’t afraid,” he said. He bent down to pet it, and it pecked his hand.

A group of women approached them. One consulted a small calculator and said, “Praise Gaia! There are two excess guinea fowl.” Immediately, the others pounced on two birds and wrung their necks.

“Meat!” they exulted, raising their hands to the ceiling. “Meat!” They danced around with the two dead guinea fowls.

“Gaia has given us food,” shouted the woman with the calculator. “Gaia is great!”

“Join with us, Sister,” cried one of the women, taking Mirasol’s hand. The eejit obediently joined the circle and copied what the others were doing.