Green Comet

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass gets to know Street and might get to drive a truck.

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Chapter Twenty-Five – The Penthouse

The Professor was back in his lab and the rest of them were walking around the rectangle toward the gate. Tallgrass was going the long way too, only on the grass. Sage said to the men, “Why don’t the two of you come over for a cup of tea? We can get caught up.”

“Yeah!” said Tallgrass.

Digger looked at Street, who shrugged. “You don’t have to be anywhere, Street?” he said. “No plans? Nobody you need to meet?”

“No,” said Street. “All my accounts are up to date. The crew is, uh, occupied with the things they do when we get back.” He glanced at Tallgrass, then looked at Sage to be sure he hadn’t offended. When she nodded he finished, “And I always set aside a little time at the end of a trip for myself. Nothing to do but rest and re-adjust to city life.”

“That’s wise,” Sage said. “As I recall, it does take some adjusting.”

“Nowhere near what it must have been like for you,” said Street, “but I find I still need to do it. I get used to it out there. The quiet. The simplicity. Everything is so straightforward. You do what you have to to survive, and that’s all it asks of you.” He looked around, then at them again. “But mostly the people. Honest. They say what they mean, and they go by their word.” He looked at Tallgrass and winked. “And everybody is allowed on the grass.”

Tallgrass gaped and looked at his mother. “Can we go there some day?” he asked.

She smiled at him and said, “I think we should, some day. The trouble is, it’s a month of walking each way, and there are too many things out there that would love to eat a little thing like you.”

“But you’d protect me,” he said. “You could bring your spear and your necklace.” He looked at Street. “And we could go with them, couldn’t we? The traders? Then we’d all be safe.” He nodded his head, all settled.

Street said, “For sure. You can come with us any time.” He grinned at Sage.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but with a smile crinkling their corners, and said to Tallgrass, “That sounds good, but there’s still the matter of the time. I can’t just take two months off whenever I want. And there’s your education to think of.”

“We could take a truck,” he said, referring to one of the wagons that pulled themselves. “That would be faster.” His eyes flashed. “Or an airplane. That would be really fast.”

They were going to arrive at the gate soon, so Sage said, “Airplanes don’t go that way, and there’s no place for them to land out there, anyway.” As his face fell, she carried on, “But you’ve given me an idea.” His face rose again. “I don’t see why we can’t take a truck part way. It wouldn’t make it all the way to the village, but it could take us to the hut.” She looked at Street.

“Sure,” he said, setting Tallgrass to bouncing. “That’s how we replenish its supplies anyway. By the way, Sage, you didn’t make very good use of the supplies when you were there.”

“They weren’t mine,” she said, “and I didn’t have anything worth trading.” Not looking at them, she said, “And I did take something. I ate some of the dried fruit. But I left my torch and its fuel. I thought that might be enough.”

“I noticed,” said Street, “and it was more than enough. You should have taken more. That’s what it’s there for.”

“Okay,” she said. “Next time. In the meantime, do you think we could take a truck out there? Maybe take a picnic up onto the prairie by the sentinel tree. Tallgrass could have a run in some real grass, and we could watch out for him.”

Tallgrass was really bouncing now, his eyes on Street, who said, “Sure, I don’t see why not. Some time in the next week?”

Now Tallgrass was still, hardly breathing as he watched his mother, who said, “That sounds good. Let’s make plans over tea,“ then watched her son caper for joy.

Sage and Tallgrass lived in a place with a view. The big window looked out over the harbor, where they could watch the ships come and go. The airport was also close to the water, so they could see the airplanes on approach and departure. When they came in, Tallgrass went to his room to change blankets, and Sage went to the kitchen, but their two guests went straight to the window.

The city was laid out below them. From Sage’s penthouse you could see it all, from the nearby towers, through the neat neighborhoods surrounding them, all the way down to the waterfront. Digger had been here before, of course, not only as he brought Sage her refugees, but also as a friend. He often brought Skylight and Fisher along for the evening. Their son, Star, had taken to Tallgrass like a big brother. So Digger was familiar with the view, but it was new to Street and he was quiet while he tried to take it all in.

That’s where Sage found them when she came back from the kitchen. Tallgrass was standing between them, his house blanket on, but askew. Straightening it, Sage said, “Moonshadow will be out with the tea shortly.”

Digger turned from the window and asked, “How is she working out? Is she settling in okay?”

Sage nodded. “I think she’s going to be all right. She’s certainly a good worker. But I think it’s a good thing you found her when you did. She’s a sensitive girl.”

“I know,” said Digger. “It was really hard to get through to her when I found her. She was afraid of everything and wouldn’t talk to anyone. It was all I could do to get her here.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Has she told you anything?”

“Not really,” said Sage. “There’s something there all right. Something bad. But I told her she doesn’t have to talk about it. If she wants to some day, that’s up to her. Meanwhile, she knows she’s somewhere safe.”

Digger nodded. “I think that’s best. I’m curious, of course, but it’s her story and she can decide if she wants to tell it.”

At that moment Moonshadow came in carrying a tray. Her hesitation when she saw a stranger, Street, was almost imperceptible. She set it down on a tall table in the middle of the room, then turned to face Sage.

Sage said, “Thank you, Moonshadow. We won’t need anything else for now, but let me introduce Street. He’s a trader and a good friend. You can trust him.”

She flinched very slightly at the word “trader,” but she managed a smile. “Pleased to meet you, sir,” she said.

“And you, Moonshadow,” he said. “But you don’t need to call me sir. I’m just a common trader.” The flinch this time was almost invisible, but he caught it.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and at Sage’s nod she left the room.

The three adults exchanged a look. They had all seen her reaction, and they all guessed that her trauma had something to do with traders. But before they could talk about it, Tallgrass turned away from the window and said, “Can we go on the picnic tomorrow? Can we?”

The grownups laughed as the tension disappeared. Sage said, “Not tomorrow, Tally. We need at least a day to prepare, so it will be the next day at the earliest.”

Tallgrass sagged only a little and not for long. “What are we going to take? What kind of truck? Can I drive it? I like date bars. Can we take date bars?”

Digger and Street were grinning at Sage as she endeavored to answer her son’s questions. “We can certainly take date bars. And I might let you steer the truck for a little while, as long as it’s safe. As for your other questions, that’s what we have to figure out today.” She walked to the table. “Tea everyone?” she said as she began to pour.

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass gets to run on the grass.

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Chapter Twenty-Four – Tallgrass

Sage and Professor Tailor were watching Tallgrass romp on the grass. He was running full tilt from one end of the rectangle to the other, his little body stretching, and his face lit by an ecstatic grin. Also watching were two members of the custodial staff, the same two who had brought Sage’s chest of drawers six years earlier. They’d come out of their office down at the end and were standing with their arms crossed, but with indulgent smiles.

Tallgrass had a special dispensation to be on the grass, even though he was not a professor or anyone else important enough to be allowed. Part of the reason was who his mother was, and part was the Professor’s influence, but mostly it was because he was so cute and so full of life that people just loved to see him enjoying himself. Not everyone. There were some who thought a Plainsrunner’s offspring had no business inside the gates, much less on the grass, but they were outvoted. Besides, as the maintenance staff said, he was too small and too light to do any real damage. Not yet, anyway. Sage smiled as she remembered him coming off the grass one day when it was time to go. He was panting and bursting with energy when he said, “I hope I stay small forever.”

The Professor’s eyes followed the boy as he said, “He’s growing up quickly, isn’t he? It seems like no time at all since you first arrived.”

“Yes,” said Sage, “and no.” When he raised his eyebrows at her she said, “So much has happened that it feels like it must be longer, and yet the time has flown by.”

“Yes,” said the Professor. “You have had a very full few years, haven’t you? From country girl to celebrity astronomer.”

She frowned at him. “Celebrity astronomer,” she muttered.

“Well, that’s what they’re calling you. I saw it on the news this morning. They called you author, screenwriter, celebrity astronomer and day flier killer.” He smiled at her frown.

“Oh, my ancestors,” she said. “Will I never live that down?”

“I don’t know why you would want to,” he said. “Your fame is what has allowed you to do the things you want to do.”

She nodded, grudgingly acknowledging that. “To think,” she said, “that all I wanted to do when I first came here was to learn. And it’s been a constant torrent of learning ever since.”

He nodded. “I remember that girl. I thought I was going to buy the artifact from you, and that would be it, but you ended up taking over completely.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” she said. “I remember it as running as fast as I could just to survive. I grabbed every advantage I could because I needed every one I could get.” She looked at him. “I’m sorry if it seemed as if I was using you.”

Tallgrass went tearing by in the other direction, grinning at them as he passed. They waved at him and the Professor said, “Not at all. This has been the best time of my life. My career has never been so fulfilling.”

“It’s been the same for me,” said Sage. “I’ve gone from being a hopeless exile to, well, a celebrity astronomer.” They laughed together, then she said, “I wanted to learn, but the amount and the pace of learning almost overwhelmed me.”

“Well,” he said, “your life completely changed. You had to re-learn almost everything.”

“Yes,” she said. “Up on the prairie we had no electricity. We walked everywhere we went. Messages had to be carried from village to village. The traders were one of our main means of communication, but they never told us about any of your new technology.”

“No,” he said. “They knew it was taboo for you people. They never took so much as a flashlight with them.”

“Right,” she said. “Then I come here and I learn about electricity and flashlights. Then about wagons that pull themselves.” She widened her eyes at him. “Then the ships that sail out on the ocean. And airplanes. Airplanes that are much bigger than day fliers and that fly much higher even than them.”

He nodded. “It must have completely overturned everything you thought you knew about the world.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “But it never overwhelmed you. You took it in and you adjusted, and you came out stronger for the new knowledge.”

“I’m glad it looked that way, but the truth is I felt like I was faking it most of the time.”

He chuckled. “If that’s true then you’re a champion faker. You had me fooled, and you’ve certainly impressed a lot of people in the process.”

“Then people are easily impressed,” she said. “Celebrity astronomer, indeed.” Quietly, she added, “The thing that almost sent me running was radio. I grew up thinking it was the ultimate evil, and when I learned that you city people were using it …”

Tallgrass went by the other way, but he was slowing down and his grin was a little more labored. They waved and the Professor said, “What made you stay?”

She thought about it as they watched the little runner, then said, “A combination of things. I had nowhere to go. I’d been discovering that our myths and legends were a little simplistic when faced with the reality. And I really wanted to learn. Especially about the gliders.”

“And you liked being a celebrity astronomer?”

“You be quiet,” she said. “I was nowhere near that when I learned about radio.”

They smiled together as they watched Tallgrass trotting back to them. In a quiet voice, he ventured, “Are you never going to tell me who the father is?”

Still looking at her son, she said, “I think you know who his father is, Professor.”

“Do you mean …” he stammered. “Am I the one?”

She looked sideways at him and nodded.

“But why didn’t you say? I should have known. I could have … done something. I could have helped.”

Tallgrass was close then and she only had time to say, “I didn’t need any help,” before he was there, basking in their praise and their love.

They saw the groundskeepers walk out to inspect the grass, paying close attention to where Tallgrass had made his turns. The boy’s eyes were wide with anxiety during the inspection, and when they waved and gave the high sign he capered in a circle of joy. He’d be allowed to play on the grass at least one more time.

The Professor took the opportunity to say, “I know you didn’t need me Sage, but I would have liked to have helped anyway.”

“I know,” she said, “but it was something I had to …”

They were interrupted by sound and motion at the gate on the opposite side of the grass. Tallgrass looked and called out, “Uncle Digger,” and began running. He slowed down when he saw that there was someone with him, but when Digger called his name and held out his arms, he sped up again.

While they watched the reunion, the Professor said, “Who is that with him?”

“I don’t know,” said Sage, “but something about him seems familiar.”

They watched as the pair walked down, then across the end, and then back up their side, Tallgrass repeatedly trotting ahead and back to them. When they finally got close enough, Sage gasped and said, “Street?”

Digger called out, “Look who I’ve brought to see you, Sage.”

When they got there Sage gave Digger a hug, then offered her hand to Street. “It’s nice to see you again, Street. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Digger said, “He was asking after you. We usually get together when he gets back from a trading expedition, and he wanted to know how you were doing. So I told him to come and find out for himself.”

She turned to Street and asked, “And why did it take you so long to get around to it?”

His handsome face was abashed and he turned his eyes to the ground. “You didn’t look like you needed me horning in. You were doing fine and I didn’t want to spoil it for you.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I looked up to you,” she said sternly. “I used your strength and bravery as an example to get me through the hard times.” She was frowning at him when the Professor discreetly cleared his throat. “Oh yes,” she said. “Where are my manners? Professor, this is Street. You might remember me talking about him. Street, this is Professor Tailor. We work together. And you’ve already met my son, Tallgrass.”

They shook hands and the Professor said, “You needn’t have worried about Sage. I don’t believe you could have spoiled it for her if you tried.”

Digger laughed out loud and Street smiled, remembering the girl he met by the sentinel tree. His smile broadened when he recalled how she talked to Tiny. “No, I think you’re right, Professor,” he said. “I guess I should have known, eh? After all, I did meet her that once.”

All three men laughed, while Sage frowned. Tallgrass looked anxiously back and forth, then he began to frown too. He had no idea what was going on, but it looked as if his mother didn’t like it, and if she didn’t like it, then neither did he. He was getting set to do something when Sage noticed.

“It’s okay, Tally,” she said. “It’s friendly laughter.”

Tallgrass looked at the Professor, who nodded and smiled. He looked at Digger, who did the same. Street tried to look harmless and sincere when he looked at him. Street said, “It’s true, son. We all think your mother’s the greatest.”

Tallgrass continued frowning at him. “Then why were you laughing at her?” he asked.

“We weren’t,” said Street. “Well, we were, but it wasn’t to be mean. It’s because we all know how great she is.” He looked around for help.

Digger and the Professor chose to stay out of it, so Sage said, “Sometimes friends tease each other, but it’s all in fun. It doesn’t mean they don’t like you.”

Tallgrass thought about that, then said, “Then why did you look unhappy?”

“Well …”

The Professor grasped the baton. “Even though it’s done in fun, nobody likes to be the one singled out.” He patted Tallgrass’s neck, and his stomach lurched when he realized he was touching his son. “It was good of you to stick up for her, Tallgrass. That’s what we do for people we care about.” He smiled at Sage and the two men. “If you hadn’t, though, I don’t think it would have been long before she stuck up for herself.”

Tallgrass looked at Sage, and she said, “That’s right. I was just going to let them have it when you saved me the trouble. Thanks.” She grinned and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

He frowned a little longer, then grinned. He said, “You’d have really let them have it, wouldn’t you Mom?”

“Darn rights,” she said. “They wouldn’t have known what hit them.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking at the men. “You wouldn’t have known what hit you.”

Street threw his hands up. “I’m just glad you stepped in when you did,” he said.

Digger and the Professor nodded, and Tallgrass said, “Yeah!” Then he took off and ran a big circle on the grass. They watched him for a moment, the Professor with especially soft eyes.

Sage turned to Street. “So, how is everybody? My mother and father?”

“Your village is doing fine,” he said. “They were happy when I told them we saw you. Well, most of them, anyway. I think they were mostly glad to hear that you survived.”

“I see,” she said, surprised. She had thought they hated her. “My father?”

“Yes, I had a good long talk with him. He was really happy and relieved to hear you were all right. And I’ve been back there once since, so I was able to tell him how well you’re doing here.” His eyes flicked away and back. “He and your mother are separated. I guess they couldn’t keep it together after …”

She was surprised that this news didn’t surprise her. “Did you see Tallgrass?”

“Yes,” he said. “The first time, he came and asked if we’d seen you. He obviously really cares for you, Sage.”

“And the second time?”

He hesitated, then said, “He’s with someone.”

“Who?”

“You wouldn’t know her. She’s from the tallgrass prairie, over by the mountains. Like his own grandmother.”

“Are they happy?”

“I think so. They have a daughter, not much younger than your Tallgrass.”

“That’s good,” she said. “I’m glad he’s happy.” She was wearing a wistful smile as she watched her own Tallgrass trotting back to them.

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Sage takes on the world.

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Chapter Twenty-Three – Fame

The newspaper didn’t agree with her. Even though they originally came to her to do a story about the prodigy who won a place at the university against all odds, they ended up doing a feature about the girl who survived a month alone in the wilderness. Of course it included the story of her killing the day flier, complete with pictures of her holding her spear and wearing the necklace. For an interesting juxtaposition, they took the pictures on the university grounds. The primitive and the civilized. She indulged them, but she refused to stand on the grass, nor would she allow them on it in spite of their insistence that they needed a better angle. Nor did she allow them into her quarters, because that would have disturbed the Professor. She did allow them to take pictures of her in the library. The primitive reading. They needed the university’s permission, but they only had to promise to publish pictures of the Head Librarian and the University President for that.

The feature was a success, and not long after that the city magazine called. They did a big glossy spread contrasting the intellectual academic against the tough country girl. She refrained from pointing out that it was the same intelligence that made her successful in both cases. She had already learned that they showed little interest in the nuances, subtle or otherwise. Next came the inter-metropolitan magazines that were sold in many other cities along with hers. She was able to choose among them and she chose the one that offered to pay her the most. They also claimed to have the widest coverage with the most subscribers. She was interested in the money because it could buy her security and independence. She didn’t let it blind her, though. She made them commit to giving substantial attention to the university and to Professor Tailor. He wound up with a lot of job offers, but he chose to stay where he was, at a significant increase in benefits. The university didn’t mind because they were in more demand and could raise their rates. Sage felt bad about that unintended consequence and, when she was in a position to do so, established a very generous scholarship.

Next came the book deal. Once again she was faced with competing offers and relied heavily on the advice of the university and their recommended experts to choose the best one. As it turned out, the one she chose was the only one that didn’t try to get her to turn over the rights to her story in exchange for a larger cash advance. She was glad of the advice because without it she would never have seen the trap, and she would have been left out in the cold when the movie deal came along.

That was almost too much for her. The disruption of her life and the demands on her time made her want to pull out and go back to being a simple cleaner. All the distractions were affecting what she thought of as her real work, and the damage to her pride in her work ethic had her wanting to call it all off. Fortunately the Professor was able to talk to her and convince her that, with her money, she could hire someone to take over her cleaning duties and not need to give anything up. She burst out from under the gathering clouds, kissed the Professor’s cheek and got hold of Digger. He was able to find someone, a shy young woman who was willing and needed the work, and Sage was able to concentrate on her new duties.

The movie was successful and it spawned a sequel. Sage was on the books as author – with a ghostwriter – co-screenwriter and technical advisor. Her fame led to more magazine articles and more books and more movies. It seemed as if once it got going, it became self-sustaining. Fame led to more fame, and success to more success. If Sage was embarrassed by it, and she was, she didn’t let it show publicly. She was embarrassed because it felt as if she was being rewarded far out of proportion to the effort she was putting in. She didn’t show it because the money, in addition to securing her life, allowed her to help Digger and fund her scholarships.

In spite of all the turmoil, she was able to find the time to continue working with the Professor, which she considered her most important work. They made some progress with the artifacts. Sage, from the broad mass of knowledge she was absorbing, came up with suggestions for the symbols etched on their backs. The Professor’s, a circle apparently orbiting another circle, was already suggested to represent the lightest element, hydrogen. She agreed and suggested that they say so in a paper. Hers, a large circle with two smaller circles embedded in it, like a simple face drawn by a child, didn’t resemble any element. She told the Professor that she thought it might represent a water molecule, and they co-wrote a paper about that, too. They also speculated that the material they were made from was carbon. They were hesitant because it seemed metallic and they had never heard of metallic carbon, but they published anyway. Their tests indicated carbon, and that’s what they reported. They would let the scientific community work it out.

When the book deal came through and she received her first cheque, Sage decided that it was time to move out and get her own place. She felt she had enough money now, and soon she would have a degree in astronomy and could find a job, so it would be a safe move. She loved her place on the campus and she liked how it was so convenient to her work, but the time had come. She wanted the Professor to have his room back, for those nights he worked late and didn’t want to have to go all the way home to sleep. Also, if she had her own place she would be able to take in some of Digger’s people. It bothered her that she was receiving so much good fortune and she wasn’t repaying the man who had made it possible.

She would move out and get things going in the right direction, but first there was something she wanted to do. She was just coming into oestrus, and she started to work on the Professor. At first he didn’t know what was going on. Then he did know, but pretended he didn’t. Next he let on that he knew, but pretended that it was inappropriate, with him being her employer. And how would it be if they made all the cliché rumors true? He resisted, however feebly, but she persisted. When they passed each other, she always made sure to brush against him. When they were at the workbench, she pressed close, shoulder to shoulder, their heads close, breathing mingled breath. He didn’t stand a chance and soon they did what came naturally.

She moved within days, and when her pregnancy became obvious, and later when her son was born, there was enough uncertainty around the timing to make the nasty rumors impotent. She didn’t reveal who the father was, not even to the Professor, and she let herself be seen with enough men, from Digger to film producers, that it might have been anyone. That led to talk about the loose morals of the northern girl, which wounded her natural sense of rectitude, but she only used it to enhance her already overblown public image.

By the time Tallgrass was born, the mystique around Sage was so well established that single motherhood was on its way from a state of disgrace, to a courageous choice.