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From: splineduck@hotmail.com (Spline Duck)
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Subject: {ASSM} Grass by S. Duck [MF, SciFi RP]
Date: Wed, 23 Jan 2002 19:10:03 -0500
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Spline Duck's stories can be found at:
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Grass by Spline Duck

US Copyright Registered 1999


Editor's Note: The records of the organization known as
INTERSEX contain many fascinating and original events.
As they are edited and released, we hope to bring more
of them to the attention of the public. INTERSEX is
officially the acronym of Interstellar Scientific
Expeditions (but everyone knows that it really stands
for Interspecies Sex; that's what makes their bread and
butter. SD


= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =


"I see you've been playing with a photo-editing
program."

"Huh?" I looked up, startled, to see my new supervisor
standing next to me, looking at the picture above my
desk. "Oh, yeah. It was a going-away gift from a
friend."

"Cute," he commented. "How did you . . ."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

We were nearing the planet, getting ready to land.
INTERSEX had sent us to find a missing recording team.
The couple hadn't reported in when expected. We knew
them pretty well, so we'd asked to be assigned to check
the situation.

I always worry when people are overdue, but accidents
are rare in this business, and this was supposed to
have been almost a vacation, a trivial job. No
negotiations, no people - - just land, walk around,
take a few simple recordings, lay back, and enjoy an
easy week or two. So why were they overdue? I was
worried, but I'm often told I worry too much, so I kept
it to myself. But I worried.

The planet looked unusual even from several planetary
diameters out. From orbit, it looked like a green
marble. Most of it was covered in grass, wide steppes
broken by only a few small lakes and dotted only
sparsely with small, forested areas. The atmosphere was
very clear. You could see weather patterns in the
grass; wind along the weather fronts made the grass lie
down so that it looked dark against the lighter green
of the calmer areas.

"Maybe there'll be monsters this time, something
exciting," 592 said.

"I don't think there'll be much except grass and trees.
After all, they were just here to make a recording of
trees, and there aren't any animals larger than
insects. I think they just had some minor breakdown - -
they're probably camping out, fucking up a storm,
hoping that a ride home doesn't arrive too soon. What
could happen? It was supposed to be a cakewalk."

"Did you realize that we've worked together for 15
years?" 592 said. "We've had a lot of good assignments
in that time."

That came from out of the blue! What could he be
thinking about?

"Yeah," I said, "I guess that's about right. We're
lucky we're compatible." I smiled. "And we're lucky
that INTERSEX likes to send couples on so many of their
projects. It's great to be able to spend time together
when we're working."

He hesitated. "We've been together a long time. I don't
want to hurt you, but I've got to talk about this. I
want to tell you something I've been thinking about for
quite a while," he said.

He looked out the window. I wondered what in the world
was going on with him. He looked back at me and then
out the window again.

"I'm feeling kind of dry. I've even been thinking
lately about how nice retiring would be, going back to
my hometown on Earth. This grassy planet reminds of the
fields around my home." He looked down at the floor of
the cabin. "Would you come with me?"

Then he started talking fast, as if he were finally
getting out something he'd been hanging onto for far
too long. I was in shock.

"It's a really peaceful place. It's pretty, and it's
friendly. Somehow, for the last year or two our
assignments haven't really interested me like they used
to. I think I want to get out. But I want you to come
with me. It's not you; it's the job, the instability,
feeling lonely in crowds of strangers." He looked me in
the eye. " I didn't know how to tell you, how to start
talking about this. I really want you to come with me."

Floored! My mind wasn't functioning! My companion, and
he's thinking about quitting, taking me away from my
work, leaving me, perhaps.

"I don't know; I don't even know how to think about it.
I need some time. I enjoy our work, and I'm not sure
about settling down yet. What's happened to make you
want to pull out? What about us? Maybe we can somehow
change what we do."

He hesitated, and then started to answer. "Lately, the
assignments seem more or less the same. Every
assignment . . . the repetitious struggle to meet
another new group of people and persuade them to let us
do a recording. I'm not . . ."

He was interrupted by an alarm. I looked at the
console. "There's the signal from their ship. Let's get
ready to land. Let me think more about it. We can talk
more on the return trip. We'll have a lot of time then,
and I'll have had some time to get my feelings in
order. I don't know right now; I just don't know what
to think."

I wish I'd encouraged him to finish his thoughts right
then.

On the way down, he started talking about the mission.
"Trees," he said. "Why trees? Why are we here to record
trees? Who's interested in trees? How did they come up
with this idea of recording trees."

"Well, they're pretty unusual trees," I replied. "They
have at least a minimal self-awareness, not as much as
birds, but certainly more than bees." And in my mind I
wondered why he was suddenly having all these doubts
about such a simple thing. What was happening to my
companion?

"But how did they even find that out? Who would have
thought to look at the trees? I wouldn't have done;
would you?"

I thought back to the extra material that came with the
mission plan. "They didn't find any animals larger than
insects here. No one had ever seen a planet where
plants were the dominant life form. When the first
expedition didn't find any large animals, they used
their recording equipment to try to scan a large area
quickly. When they scanned the forest, they found that
the trees had a kind of awareness, and, at least a
little, they can communicate with each other. INTERSEX
thought it might be interesting to have a recording of
such a different lifeform. If nothing else, it might be
useful for educational programs."

"Yeah! Well, they're still just trees. How much sex
life could trees have?"


We landed near their ship. It sat in a space between
the forest and the steppe. Here the grass was shorter.
A short distance from the ship, there was an open-air
camp. But there was no sign of our friends. I called
out, but no one answered; I started to worry a bit
more.

I said, "You check the campsite. I'll look in the ship.
If they have their clothes off, bawl them out for
starting the party before the guests arrived. And then
whistle me up. If they don't have them off, ask them
what they're waiting for."

The hatch on the ship was open. Inside, everything
looked fine, but as I left, I noticed that there were
leaves, dust, and scraps of grass near the door, as if
the door had been open for some days. They weren't
there, and they hadn't been there for a while. I went
to see what 592 had found.

"The camp's pretty much in order. But everything's
dusty. Bed's been slept in; looks like unwashed dishes
from breakfast. But nothing disturbed. They haven't
been here for at least several days. I called, but I
got no response. Recording and camping equipment are
gone, so they may be out on a hike to make some
records."

I looked around at the camp, the grassy plain, the
nearby woods. "God, these insects are noisy. Some of
these guys are as big as mice. Look at the size of
these holes. Listen to the noise coming out of them.
Hey, I didn't see anything amiss in the ship, just that
the door was open. Kind of careless if they had planned
to be away. On the other hand, you said the camping
equipment is gone."

"Maybe they're lost."

I said, "Or maybe they've gone for a long hike. It's
past midday. Let's set up a minimal camp so we can
sleep outside the ship. Then we can take a tour of the
woods."

He hesitated. "I'd just as soon leave the woods for
later. Why don't we just look around out here? There's
no rush about going in there."

I laughed. "Hey! There's nothing dangerous here!
Besides, we'll just poke around in the borders today.
There's not enough time to go very far before dark.
Tomorrow, we'll put some effort into finding them, and
maybe we'll make a couple of recordings ourselves.
Don't look so sad!" I edged up beside him and bumped
him with my hip. Rubbing it up and down against him, I
whispered, "Let's get our camp set up. Then we'll go
look in the woods. Maybe we can set an example for the
trees. They're already hard; maybe we just need to wake
them up."

Tents, tarps, stoves, sleeping bags - - everything for
a simple campout came out. 592 did his part like
sleepwalker; he looked so down. It was hard to carry on
a conversation with him. Afterwards, we went for a walk
along the border of the woods.

He said, "God! There are a lot of bugs here. I hope
they quiet down at night. If they don't, it's going to
be like trying to sleep in an um-pah band."

I said, "I don't know. I always like the summer
crickets, the louder, the better. When we'd visit my
grandparents, I always enjoyed going to sleep to the
crickets. I slept best when they were the loudest. When
the seventeen year locusts came, I slept like a log."

When we returned, I warmed up a dinner for us. I
decided to try to cheer him up after we had eaten. I'd
always been able to cheer him up in the past; he'd even
cheered me up a few times when I was down. I made a few
plans.

"Come on. There's little pond not far from the woods.
Let's take an after-dinner stroll. It'll feel good." I
hooked my arm through his and lead the way onto the
veldt, rubbing up against him as much as possible.
Before we got to the pond, I had my hand in his shorts,
feeling his butt.

"You know," he said, "this reminds me of a little pond
in the woods near my home. We used to take our
girlfriends there to make out."

"I'm here," I said. Sidling around to the front of him,
I said, "And you can do some serious making-out with me
if you want." A bulge pressing into my belly told me
that serious was at least one of the way stations to be
expected. Reaching in to check on progress, I said,
"And your friend here might want to join in, too. I
have a treat waiting for you that he might enjoy." And
we started back to the camp. I figured I had him; men
are so easy. This was going to be fun.


"Lay back, and just think of this as my birthday
present to you. We'll do it again on your birthday if
you like it. Put this headset on." As he lay down, I
got out the recording that John in the Research
Department had helped me produce. It was just the two
of us, but "enhanced." They can do a lot in the R&D
department; their equipment is better than any
commercial rig, and they can make recordings that are
better than anything you ever saw before. Their stuff
is easy to get lost in.

"Just kick off those shoes and pants. Close your eyes
and just flow along with the recording. I'll be back in
a couple of minutes." I'd put a long, slow lead-in on
the session. It started with just some music in a misty
environment. Almost no sensations in the beginning, but
as the mist clears, the sensations join in quickly. I
went to get some lubricant and a headset for myself.

When I returned, he was kind of hard. I put on a
headset of my own so I could monitor his ascent, but I
kept the intensity turned way down. This show was for
him, and I didn't want to get lost. I picked up the
recording while it was still in the misty, diffuse
feelings section. "OK! ShowTime," I whispered to him.
Reaching down to grab hold of him, I felt him harden a
bit more; I pushed a button to start the progression
into the next section. In the recording, I saw myself
stride out of the mist with long, assured steps. Not
me, but an Amazon-me, half-again as tall as him,
muscled and confident. My face was covered with
fearsome cat-like tattoos; hair flaming streaks of red,
black, and yellow; I was a leopard in heat.

Form-fitting black only accentuated the muscles; a huge
scar on the right arm was one sign that here was a
tough one. "They said you would be waiting for me," she
rumbled. And she reached out to grasp him, laughing,
saying, "But this little thing won't do. We've got to
do better than this." We both started to stroke him.
She said, "Come on! I'm planning on enjoying myself,
and a little splinter isn't going to cut it, no matter
how hard it is." As she stroked him, he not only got
harder, but the penis in the vision began to grow.
Larger, rougher, redder, and her huge hand circled it,
stroked it, squeezed it, encouraging its growth.
"That's more like it!" she yelled. "I need a real man.
I've never yet found one who's too big for me." He was
as hard as I had ever felt him, and in the vision, his
penis was huge; finger-sized veins snaked blue over the
enlarging, reddening surface.

The Amazon continued massaging with both her immense
hands. They barely circled the growing penis as it
approached its ultimate size. Somehow, now she was
naked except for a huge black bra holding heavy,
swaying breasts. Sparse, darkish hair lined the edges
of the lips between her thighs, making her sex open and
obvious as she swung a leg over him. The looming organ
reared up to meet her. She thrust herself down,
grunting with effort, sighing as she opened, and then
exhaling as her depths were opened. Liquid squirted
from her sex as she was filled. "That's better," she
growled. Then a deep purr rumbled from her as she came,
forcing a jet of sticky fluid out as his massive penis
was squeezed by her huge vagina. She pounded her fist
on his chest and came again with an incoherent shout. I
just kept stroking slowly; it wasn't quite time for him
to come.

Pressing down to take the full, extravagant length, she
said, "Now, it's your round. Let's see what this beast
can do." She turned, dismounting, with streams of
sticky, almost jelly-like, liquid dripping from her
vagina. A thick, long-fingered hand descended to grasp
him, stroke him. The other joined in the dance, both
sliding the length from base to knob. I was so pleased
with the effect on him; he continued hard, and I could
see he was having trouble controlling himself.

A warrior's hand clasped his glans, thumb stroking the
dimple, fingers kneading the rest. "I'm ready for you
now," she muttered, and leaning down, she started to
take him into her mouth. I started squeezing harder and
stroking faster. His little thrusts told me he was
almost there. He stiffened as her lips reached the base
of the monster organ. My lips surrounded the tip of his
penis as a small, salty stream landed on my tongue. The
Amazon-me sucked on; lips sliding up and down, she
swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. He grunted and
sighed and then began to relax, sliding away into
unconsciousness. The Amazon patted him, saying, "Good
boy," and stalked away. The music and mist returned and
then faded away. I was alone with an unconscious, but
well-satisfied, partner.

I lay there basking in a warm, internal glow of
success. I owed John in R&D a big present. Perhaps I
was overly pleased with myself, but his gentle snoring
just made my accomplishment better. The sounds of
insects faded as darkness became complete. For a while,
the wind blew through the trees, that beautiful,
comforting sound. I just lay there feeling at peace. As
the last shreds of light faded from the sky, the night
shift of bugs slowly began their crazy lullaby as I
faded into a deep sleep.


In the morning, 592 was his usual happy self again. A
little affection and a big blowjob seemed enough to
make him a new man.

We took a short walk in the woods. The trees were
fairly far apart, and there was almost no undergrowth.
I had walked a little way ahead before I noticed that
592 was hanging back near the edge of the woods. I
called out, "C'mon, fraidy-cat! There's lots to do."

592 started walking slowly toward me. He kept looking
around and turning to look back the way we had come in.
"Did you notice," he said, "how much quieter it is in
here? Out in the grass, it's an opera, a symphony, and
a brass band, all at once - - a bug's choral. And when
you step into the woods, it all stops! It's almost
silent in here. About all I hear is the wind in the
trees and your stomping on the leaves."

"I didn't notice. I was thinking about other things." I
turned to walk back toward the edge. As I neared the
grass, the onslaught of sound started, first softly,
then louder and louder. "I got used to the sound and
didn't notice," I said. "Come on, Let's go look
around."

We wandered around for a while, checking our direction
finder occasionally to make sure we weren't just
circling around in the trees. There was no sign of the
other team, but that was hardly surprising. What was
worrying was the lack of any sign at the camp that they
had expected company. If I'd had a problem, I would
have hung around the camp or at least left a note.

By late midday, I was getting hungry enough to want to
go back. This wandering around was pleasant, and it
gave us a perspective about what the countryside was
like, but it wasn't a very helpful way to search for
our friends. I called to 592, "Let's head back to eat.
While we walk, we can do a little planning. We need to
organize our search a bit more."

He stopped and looked around. Pointing, he said, "See
that low rock outcropping going off that way. That's
roughly the direction of the ships, and the trees are
thinner along the side of the rocks. Let's start that
way. It should be easy walking."

And so we started strolling back to lunch, talking
easily because there was enough room to easily walk
side-by-side. It was sunny, comfortably warm; this
world seemed a paradise, comfortable in every way.
That's when we found it: just a little plastic cap,
nothing really, lying in the grass, knocked off some
piece of equipment or fallen from a pack, dirty.

Now we knew; they'd come this way. Time to make some
real plans to search for them. On our walk back to
camp, we held hands and hugged, but we hardly talked.
We both had a feeling that we wouldn't see our friends
again. A dreadful feeling seemed to smother us.

Lunch was almost silent, with a little talk about the
morning hike. We were both dreading the next step. We
needed to find our friends, but we were afraid that
things were not right in this paradise. After lunch, we
started to look at an aerial photo of the region.

"That rocky ridge we followed back leads to a small
clearing in the forest," 592 said. "If I were going to
make a recording, I'd probably go there; it would have
the advantage of surely being enough space to set up
the equipment easily, and it would be a good place to
camp. If I'd been them, that's where I would have
planned to work."

"It's too late to start today. Let's get our stuff
together today, and we'll just look around in the woods
and grasslands around camp for the rest of the day. If
we get an early start tomorrow, we could hike to the
clearing and back by late afternoon. We can take
camping equipment, in case we decide to go farther. We
might have to spend some time looking around there, and
now, I'm really worried that we might find them."

"Come on," 592 said. "Let's go look around in the woods
some more."

As we walked into the woods, the shroud of quiet
descended again. "You know," 592 said, "It's not just
quiet in here; it's dead. Look! Dead bugs! All around
us: dead bugs! But they're mostly over there, near the
edge of the woods."

We looked around, walking in and out of the periphery
of the wood. 592 whispered, "They just come in here and
die. There's nothing living in here but trees. The bugs
fly in from the grasslands and die. I don't even see
gnawed leaves. They just die. Boom! Dead!" He looked
around and shook his head. "Funny! Dead!" He walked
another 50 paces into the trees. "None! Not a single
one in here, not even dead."

I picked up one of the bugs. It looked just like the
ones out in the grass. When I picked up another, it was
slightly stuck to the ground; I looked and saw that
roots that had grown into it. I showed it to 592.
"Look! This one was stuck to the ground. It looks like
the trees are quick to get the nutrients from the dead
bugs. This one's still fresh, and already the trees
have grown roots into him." I stooped and pulled hard
to get another off the ground. "And this one just a
mass of roots. And look around! There are little bug-
shaped lumps everywhere." I knelt and started picking
apart a mossy lump. "Look here! Inside this lump is a
bug's exoskeleton. The trees are eating the bugs."

"This place is giving me the creeps. Let's go back and
pack up for tomorrow. I'm starting to like this job
less and less. It's even worse than the others we've
been doing lately."

After dinner, 592 and I sat and discussed our plan for
the next day. After our walk in the woods, he had
become distant again. I tried to draw him out, but, in
the end, I only felt more alone.

In the morning, we started early. The same eerie fading
of the insects' songs accompanied our outset.

592 said, "You know, when we first arrived, I hated the
unending noise from the bugs. Then we saw that
something happened in the woods to kill them, and now
I'd rather hear that sound of life than this funereal
quiet. These dead woods trouble me. They're eating the
only live things here. We've got to get off this planet
as soon as we can."

I couldn't find an answer. I had the same feeling: this
dead, deadly vacuum of sound ate at me as we walked
along.

Late in the morning, he said, "I think I see an opening
over there. That must be the clearing."

I said, "Go ahead. I'm going to pee here and catch up
in a moment."

I was just adjusting my clothes when he called, "Their
equipment's here, but they're not. It's all set up for
a recording. Come and help me check things out."

The clearing was perhaps fifty paces across. As I
walked into it, I turned and said, "They are here. I
see them over there at the far edge, near the packs."

"What are you talking about? There's no one here. Get
some glasses."

"They're there. I see them. But I don't really want to
see what I know is there." And we walked across the
clearing. The clearing was mostly level, slightly
rolling. But next to the packs was a mossy lump. When I
used my imagination, I could see it as two lovers,
snuggled together, overgrown with moss. I started to
cry.

"It's just like the bugs. They're just like the bugs. I
knew it as soon as I saw them across the clearing."

"No! You can't be right. It's just an old log or two."

Falling to my knees, I started to pull the moss and
roots aside. "Oh God, here's a leg bone. The roots have
even grown into it. They're digesting it, feeding off
it. They're eating our friends." Sobbing, I fell down,
hugging my old friends. "There's nothing left. They're
just part of the trees now."

"It looks like they were holding each other when
something happened here. Come on; let's get out of
here."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Back at camp, both of us terribly down. A quick meal,
and then I needed some closeness, comforting. God, what
a mess. 592 and I went to bed, but my mind kept cycling
back to what we had found. I'd think I was getting
through it, and then I'd start sobbing again. I needed
to break the cycle. 592 held me through it all. A rock,
even in his despair and angst.

Eventually, he started to get aroused. When I felt his
erection pushing into my stomach through my clothes, I
started wanting him too; I needed all the closeness I
could get. I massaged him through his clothes. I'd get
wet. But every time I'd just get myself to the point of
desire, the image of the forms in the clearing would
come back again; I'd start another session of crying.
I'd get through that one, I'd get wetter still, and
then I'd hear the bugs around us again; I'd think about
the trees eating the bugs, the trees eating our
friends, and I'd start crying again. Trapped by my own
emotions!

Finally, desperately, I said to 592, "Look, I've got to
distract my mind. I know you're ready, but I don't
think I can do this alone. I know we're not supposed to
use the big stuff ourselves, but let's get out our
recording equipment. With the reflectors and
projectors, I'll be able to keep my mind focused. I've
got to stop this. I feel like my mind is coming apart.
With the machines, I'll be able to stay focused. I need
to be as close to you as possible. I've just got to get
some release. I need to feel you in me, but I need to
be there too. At this rate, I'll never make it, let
alone make it to a climax."

So, we set up our professional, INTERSEX recording
equipment, focusing it on our sleeping area. I took the
hand control to bed with us. What a relief! As soon as
I lay down, I sensed how complete a difference there
would be. Now I'd be able to stay focused.

As I lay there, spoon-fashion with 592, I told him,
"Just hold me like this for a few minutes, until I get
myself together." His erection was pushed into my back,
and his leg was hooked over mine. Finally, I was able
to focus again; I felt like myself again, mostly in
control. "OK, my mind is feeling calmer. Come and get
me."

Wriggling against him, I worked around until he was
positioned just right, and then I pushed down. His arms
were still tight around me. Now I felt totally under
control, my buns in his lap and him pushing up into the
center of me. I pushed the button to increase the power
of the projectors and ground my hips down into his lap.
The world contracted to my skin, growing hotter and
hotter. Reaching between my legs to feel him briefly, I
slowly pulled back to rub myself to an incandescent
orgasm. Perfect; perfect. I'm back to myself, I
thought, and I came again.

Dripping sweat, I grabbed him and said, " Wait a
minute! Wait a minute! I want to catch my breath and
turn over. Let's finish with me on my hands and knees."
I slipped out and turned over and knelt next to him.
While I was at it, I punched the button again to
increase the power to the projectors. Getting up on my
knees and spreading them for him, I felt his hand
resting on my hip and his wet erection against my leg.
I was so wet, it was running down my leg.

I was ready, but nothing happened. He seemed frozen.

I twitched my hip under his hand and bumped it against
his leg, once, twice. Nothing! "Well," I said, "Did you
forget how to do it" and I nudged him again; still
nothing. Anger started to compete with desire. "Hey
Loverboy! Wake up!" Turning my head to look back, I saw
that he was looking over me with his hand still resting
on my hip. His face was blank, without a sign of
arousal. Sarcasm starting to take over, I said "Hello.
Hello. It's still down here if you still want a piece."
But he just gazed over me and pointed with his chin in
the direction he was looking.

Slowly, I turned my head to look in that direction. And
there, strolling from the woods, directly toward us,
were our dead friends, smiling and holding hands. I
turned back to 592. "Did you slip a recording in while
I wasn't looking? I'm not amused."

He shook his head and said, "No. It wasn't me. No." His
gaze never wavered from the vision. I rolled onto my
side and sat up. I was about to speak to them when they
started talking to us.

"We guessed you would start the party without us.
Actually, we were afraid that you wouldn't use any of
the equipment, and then we wouldn't have been able to
talk to you. We've been waiting and watching, hoping
that you'd use the recorders, like we did."

"What's happening here? I saw you in the clearing; I
saw your bodies in the clearing. What are you?"

"We're just who we always were. We were making a
recording of the trees in that clearing. It was pretty
boring, so we decided to play a bit. As we lay there
with our minds drifting in an afterglow from sex, we
became aware of the trees through the projectors. It's
that simple. We just kind of joined in. The trees don't
really have a consciousness, and ours got imprinted on
them. We just drifted away and became the forest, the
whole world really. All of the plants on this planet
are connected in some small way into a huge not-quite-
conscious net. Well, it wasn't conscious until we
joined in. We didn't even notice we were out of our
bodies until later."

She said, "We've missed you. Come on. Come look at this
world with us. We'll show you around."

We both stood up, and the four of us started toward the
forest. 592 said, "I haven't felt this free for years.
It's like going home." He turned to me and said, "You
know, I was looking for this feeling when I talked
about retiring and going back to my hometown. I think
I'm home now." And the three of them started walking
toward the wood.

I looked back at the camp and saw my own body lying
there. "Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" They turned to
look at me. "What about us? What happening to us? What
will happen to our bodies?"

"Us? We're no different. We're just who we always were.
Out here, your bodies can feed the grass, just like
ours are feeding the trees, just like the grasslands
feed the insects to the trees. Come on; we have a whole
world to see, to play in."

"No! I'm not ready for this. No! I won't feed the
trees." And I used all my will to hold to my body.
Straining, I raised my hand slowly and hit the 'Off'
button. My three friends vanished in an instant; I've
never felt so alone, abandoned, marooned.

I cried for a long time. I got angry. I wrecked the
camp, and then I cried some more. I even thought about
turning the projectors back on; I knew they were
waiting for me, calling to me. So I threw the
projectors into the pond. I threw his body into the
woods and never looked back. "Feed your damn trees," I
yelled. Somehow, I managed to take off without
crashing; I'll never know how.

 From space, the world was once again a green marble,
deceptively calm and inviting. I hated it all. The
weather fronts were still dark on the grass. Through my
tears, I thought I could see the grove of trees where
my dead friends were.

Suddenly, something changed on the planet. Somehow the
grasslands looked disorganized, then they flashed
entirely dark, then light, then patchy and changing.
Suddenly, the grass was all light, and slowly the image
of a hand making a thumbs-up gesture formed on the
steppes. It vanished, and I turned a camera on. Slowly
the surface changed again. This time a face appeared in
the grass, filling the whole side of the planet that
faced me: 592's face; he smiled, winked, and then he
was gone. The weather fronts formed again on the grass
as I cried against the glass. Even now, the trees would
be eating him.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

". . . why is it winking? And this poem is a bit much;
kind of maudlin, isn't it?"

"Like I said, it was a going-away gift from a friend; I
don't talk about it. And the poem is mine. I like it,
so shut up!"

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =


I've looked for you, my friend
On mountains and in mists of fields
I thought I heard your voice and saw your face,
But I haven't found you yet.
And in some quiet place in the sea of grass,
Where you play, no sound is ever heard


END.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Spline Duck's stories can be found at:
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/duck/www

splineduck@hotmail.com

splineduck@hotmail.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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