Another 'Another Green World'
A loose fictional adaptation of a noise show performed by MSHR from the basement of a real wizard's house
My father was among the first to see the ship with his own eyes. It appeared silently, without fanfare, as a glint on the horizon, like a dust mote caught in a sunbeam. But the ship was enormous - larger than the village, in fact. Larger than any human artifact we had ever seen before, like a silver needle cutting though the waters of a deep blue ocean. And, as it neared the shore, its vastness finally became apparent.
By then, the entire village was awake, staring at the alien apparition on the horizon. The children of the village cried, clutching onto their partners and parents and siblings tightly. The adults of the village just stood there grimly, silently watching the sky above the craft, and the storm behind it. And just when we had thought the needle was about to pierce the shoreline - the ship dropped a smaller vessel, a sort of lifeboat, that floated to the shore. Six tall men, dressed in silver suits, stepped out.
I was watching from my house, and saw them coming down the beach. Their suits shimmered like the water their ship had arrived on, with strangely shaped helmets that made them look like fish. They moved slowly, calmly, not looking at anything around them but the path ahead.
It was obvious that they were not men. I wondered if they were perhaps spirits of the dead, or beings from a separate plane. Wherever they had come from, the people of our village were afraid of them, and they had no gates to guard; no walls to retreat into - there had never been a need to, after all.
This was how my father found himself in front of a small group the villagers had formed to meet them outside of the village. His gaze stayed straight ahead, determined and unafraid.
The creatures walked towards him, and he did not flinch.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"We are just visitors," they answered. "We have come to help you."
"Help us how?" my father asked.
"We can give you many things," they said. "Great things.
"We will give you the wisdom of the world, and the riches and the power that come with it. We have ships that sail through the air, and machines that can read your thoughts.
“We have cures for all your diseases. We can grant you immortality."
My father was quiet, and studied the creature's glassy visor carefully.
"In return," the visitors continued, "all we ask is that you provide us something in exchange."
"And what would you have from us?"
"Why, seaweed, of course."
"Seaweed?"
The tallest visitor nodded, very matter-of-factly.
"Yes," he answered, "you will be the ones to harvest it."
I had never heard of such a thing. I didn't know why anyone would need, or even want any more seaweed, for that matter - especially when the oceans were so full of it already, but my father seemed satisfied, and answered.
"If you can perform all of these fantastic feats, and give us all of these valuable things, why can't you simply grow it yourself?" he asked.
The creatures did not hesitate, almost as if they had anticipated this answer from the start. "Seaweed does not grow in the ocean near our home. We have tried, but the conditions are not right. The second visitor chimed in: "But your waters are perfect for it."
"Some problems can't be solved by yourself," another continued, "I'm sure you know this truth well."
My father was still silent.
"We need your help. And in return, you will be rewarded."
My father hesitated, and the visitors did not flinch.
"Don't you see?" one asked, again. "There will be no need to worry about the future of your people."
My father hesitated again, and the visitors held out their hands.
"You still doubt our trustworthiness. Perhaps it is best if you can see with your own eyes."
The air filled with beautiful objects of silver and gold and precious stones, and dresses of the finest silks, and necklaces made from the most pristine of pearls.
Gold statues. Silver bracelets. Jewels, and coins, and diamonds.
Lots and lots of diamonds. I wondered how many diamonds you could harvest from the ocean before there were no more, and after how long, it would take for your people to starve to death.
I watched as the villagers took the gold and silver, and held it in their hands in awe, pointing and muttering amongst themselves as they passed the trinkets around.
My father had stayed in the same place. Instead of looking where the creatures were pointing, he still looked straight ahead. His face reflected back at him in the tallest one's helmet, almost as if he was staring back into his own eyes.
"...If we agree to work for you," my father asked, finally lowering his eyes to study the gifts the visitors had brought with them, carefully, as they were held out to him. "If we agree to help you, you will give us these things?"
"Yes," replied the visitors, and my father nodded.
"Very well. We will work for you."
The visitors smiled, and suddenly, they were not fish anymore, but men.
They looked like us.
"Yes, very good," the tallest one said.
He reached out and put his hand on my father's shoulder and handed him a shining silver tool I didn't recognize.
"You'll get started on that harvesting then, won't you?
"There's a good lad."
That was when my father took the tool into his hand, and that was when our fate with the creatures had been sealed.
"You will begin by building the farms," they said.
And so, we farmed. The creatures provided the materials to build them a factory by the shore, where every morning, we went to work. They gave us machines that cut the kelp and dried it, and trucks that carried it to the factory.
Sometimes, they would load the trucks themselves, full of boxes from the factory, and carried them someplace else.
Nobody ever asked what was in the boxes, or where the visitors took them. When the trucks returned, the creatures paid us in gold and silver and diamonds, and we lived in great wealth.
But although it was clear the visitors had now become our neighbors and were here to stay, the creatures did not live with us. Instead, they stayed in their factory, doing whatever it is they did, working all night until the morning when the villagers arrived for work.
Over time, we began to forget about the world outside the village. And as we began to see them less and less, we forgot about the visitors, too. We'd soon forget about everything - everything, of course, except for the harvest.
We had kept ourselves so focused on our work that we didn't notice the changes that were always happening around us.
We didn't notice that the trees were dying. We couldn't see the fish that were disappearing from the sea.
The air was becoming thick and heavy, and the winds from the valleys and the water from the springs, once so sweet and clean, became bitter and harsh.
We didn't think much of it. The seaweed was still growing.
And we did not notice, but the waters were becoming cloudy and now brought sickness and disease into the village. The ground was becoming covered with strange new plants.
Still, we didn't notice a thing, until, one day, like a wave breaking against the rocks, it hit us.
The same six men that had come to us in the beginning met us at the factory one morning. They had not changed since - their suits still shimmered like the waters of the sea, and their faces were still hidden behind their strange fish-like helmets.
"How is the harvesting and transporting going?" the tallest one asked.
"Well enough," my father replied. "The trucks are full. They're ready to be shipped."
"Good. Then we have everything we need. We can move on."
My father looked up, and frowned. "Move on to what?"
"To the next phase of the project," the one of the creatures explained. "Your work is done," he said. "You have done well."
We were confused. What did that mean? Were our jobs over?
What were we supposed do now? Would we be able to return home?
"We will keep your families here," they continued. "We will give them food, and a place to live. They will have everything they need."
They looked around, smiling and nodding to the workers.
"And as for us?"
"We will not need your services anymore."
A murmur went through the crowd.
"There will be no more work. No more harvest."
"But the seaweed..." one of the men began.
"It grows, yes. But we have found a way to make it grow ourselves," the tallest visitor answered.
"You don't need us?"
"No, not anymore."
There was a moment of silence.
"You will have to find a new place to live," said the creature, and suddenly, he was no longer a visitor, either.
"But where will we go?"
But there was no answer. The spirit had already vanished. In the end, we were left with no other choice.
We gathered our belongings and left the village. We wandered the Earth endlessly, searching for a new home. The creatures had left us with what they had brought us, and we took only what we needed.
After a long journey, we found a new home in a valley. A place where the waters were fresh, and the soil was fertile, and the winds were gentle and kind.
This was the beginning of the village I call home.
But it would not be for long. Everywhere we went, the creatures were always there, harvesting the kelp, and turning the land into an ocean of green.
Eventually, we came to a mountain. It was tall and proud, and it was vastly unlike anywhere in our lives on the shores. Much discussion was had about the work that would be needed to be done to allow us to live there. A decision was made, and we continued our search for a place the creatures had not yet been, further away from the oceans that were no longer our own, and into the clouds above.
But as we climbed the slopes, we saw that the creatures had been there before us once again. None of us could understand why, but they had taken the mountain, and turned it into a factory.
"This is our world now," they told us. "You have done well to help us build it.
"We are grateful."
And with that, we were left to wander the Earth alone. We lived in caves and tunnels, in the creatures' abandoned cities and the ruins of their factories. We learned to see in the dark, and lived in shadows.
And always, the creatures were there. Always, they were harvesting the kelp, and turning the land into an ocean of green.
"I don't understand," says the boy. "Why would they do any of this?"
The man just looks at him and smiles sadly, shaking his head. "Because," he explains, quite simply, "they are trying to reach the end."
The boy just looks more confused. "The end?"
"Yes," the man answers, even more plainly, "the end of the world."
The boy blinks, and pauses. "But why would they want to do that?"
"They do not."
"Then why are they doing it?"
"They do not know what they want," the man said, "the ones that do, do not care."
"Why not?"
"Because," he says, "it isn't their problem, anymore."
The boy is quiet. Then he speaks again, quietly:
"...Is this the end of the world, then?" he asks, and looks back at the endless green ocean.
"No," the man replies. "The end of the world is much, much further away."
The boy just nods his head this time.
"How far away is it?"
"Very far," the man replies. "But if you're patient, and if you keep asking the right questions, you might just get there in one piece."
"But how will I know what the right questions are?"
The man smiles again, a little more warmly than before.
"That's simple: you won't."
The boy is quiet for a long time. Then he turns back to look at the man.
"...I think I can be patient."
The man nods. "Good. Because it's going to take a long time.
"Good luck. I am sure we will meet again," he says, and the boy watches as the man walks away, leaving him alone on the ship.
The vast green sea stretches out around him in all directions, and the boy feels like he could fall off the edge of the world if he leaned too far forward.
But he does not lean forward, and he does not fall off the edge.
He is patient, and he keeps asking the right questions, and he knows that eventually, he will reach the end in one piece.
Because he is a fisherman, and the sea is his home. ⁂