Greegs & Ladders by Zack Mitchell, Danny Mendlow (13 ebook reader .TXT) 📖

as he passed Rip one of the many 30 pound hardcover books that he mysteriously managed to carry out of sight.

“You read it to us,” said Rip as he struggled to focus on all the creatures zipping up and down the Master Ladder between the layers of the world. “I’m far too hypnotized by this insanity to be able to make out the sentences.”

Wilx flipped to chapter one in the first volume of the Map to Lincra. “It says we are right now on Terminal Layer Zero. Below the TLZ are the Subterranean Layers 1-66, the innermost layer of which is an observation deck for viewing the fiery planetary core. Looking directly at the core will fry your optic nerves, so it is suggested that only blind creatures visit Subterranean Layer 66. Any creatures allergic to water or other forms of hydrogen-oxygen combinations are advised to avoid every seventh, even-numbered subterranean layer, all of which are water based.

'Above the TLZ are the Floating Layers 1-79, the topmost layer being the only place on Lincra where you can see sky or space, aside from when inside the parking lot dome. All of the lighting for the Subterranean Layers comes from Terminal Layer Zero, which consists mainly of Investment Banker Corral Farms and Slaughterhouses. Well, where should we go first? A Subterranean or Floating Layer?”

“Are there any places designed for people who like to make outlandish wagers?” asked Rip.

Wilx flipped to the index. “No. It says betting of any kind is prohibited on Lincra.”

“No betting? That means this will be another planet in which I didn’t place an outlandish wager during my visitation. Pluto will have to be removed from the next edition of Very Rare Planets.”

“Too bad. Pluto could use the publicity.”

“Maybe I’ll find a way to make a bet,” said Rip optimistically.

“Even if you did, what would you wager? You don’t own anything.”

“That’s not true. I have many fine superfluous organs.”

“You’ve already lost all your superfluous organs to me, remember?” said Wilx. “I intend to collect them as soon as we find a mildly decent surgeon who will perform surgery for all the wrong reasons. In fact, I think there’s an entire layer of Lincra devoted to exactly that.”

Wilx again flipped to the index of the Map to Lincra. “Aha! I was right. Subterranean Layer 39 is known as the Layer of Mildly Decent Surgeons Who Will Perform Surgery For All the Wrong Reasons. Let's go there first.”

“No!” shouted Rip as he clung to his stomach. “You can’t have my organs! I need them to wager in future bets!”

“Are there any sort of Carnival attractions on this planet?” asked Krimshaw. “I'd like to see more of those savage Greegs.”

Wilx looked up Greegs in the Map of Lincra. “We might be in luck... Subterranean Layer 53 is a Carnival Zoo. It says many fine animals have been stolen from their natural environment and locked up in tiny cages just for our viewing enjoyment.”

“What sort of creatures do they have?”

“Wailing Hair-Beasts, Crawling Eyes, Horrendous Swamp-Swoons, Gelatinous Cubes, Elemental Stone-Golems, hey...look! They even have some of those Flying Grimbat Messengers I’ve read about.”

“But do they have any Greegs?” asked Krimshaw.

“They boast a decent selection of the most savage Greegs imaginable. Let’s head over there now.”

Krimshaw sauntered towards the Master Ladder. Rip asked Wilx if he would hang back for a minute and help him tie his non-existent shoelaces.

“Do you think we should take him there?” he whispered. “I’m worried about the stares he’s been getting, what being an intelligent Greeg wearing clothing and consorting with non-Greegs and all.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” said Wilx. “Let’s go over to the Ladder.”

“Hurry up!” yelled Krimshaw.

Once Rip and Wilx caught up, the three of them began descending the Master Ladder. The vibe of the Subterranean Layers was uncomfortable.

“I don’t like it down here,” said Rip. It was a justifiable opinion to have. They were currently passing by Subterranean 11, a layer used mainly as a storage dump for the unneeded organs flowing in from the Layer of Mildly Decent Surgeons Who Will Perform Surgery For All the Wrong Reasons.

“I agree,” cried Wilx as they passed Subterranean 12, the Layer Where Nothing is Done Except For Cutting Onions.

“We should have visited one of the floating thingies. Let’s turn around.”

“No,” said Krimshaw. “We have to see the cages. Besides, where there’s Greegs there might be information about the all-Greeg planet.”

“I guess so,” said Rip. “How many more of these things do we have to climb through?”

“Just 41.”

“Sigh.”

Everyone was beginning to feel the exhaustion of descending towards the centre of Planet Lincra.

Krimshaw slipped and nearly plunged into the abyss.

“Why is everything connected by ladders?” he asked, referring not only to the Master Ladder but also to the smaller ladders connecting the many smaller layers and the general placement of ladders in most areas of his vision. “On our ship we’ve got floating elevators and teleportation rooms, yet the most popular planet in the system can’t afford something better than archaic ladders? It is a laughably inconvenient tool.”

“Pfft, he doesn’t know about the KULMOOG,” mocked Rip.

“The what?”

“The Kroonum Union of Ladder Makers and/or Official Overseeing Gods,” informed Wilx.

“Who are they?”

As everyone descended, passing such places as the Layer of Governmental Operations Concerning Hypnotic Mind Control, Wilx delved into the long story of the Ladder Makers Union.

“The KULMOOG are the oldest and strongest union in the Kroonum system. They started out as just the KULM, the Kroonum Union of Ladder Makers. Their invention of the ladder revolutionized life as they knew it. Suddenly people were able to reach things on high shelves without climbing on the actual shelves and thus breaking them and having to buy new shelves. Shelf makers lost a considerable amount of money on this aspect of the ladder revolutionizing things. People could also now pick fruit without having to climb trees, thus not falling out of trees, breaking bones and requiring pricey hospital bills. Doctors lost much of their income due to the increased safeness of fruit-picking. It also became easier to break into houses; one simply had to pick a window, prop a ladder and climb their way to crime. Companies that made security bars for windows were one of the few non-ladder related ventures to become richer as a result of the ladder. Everyone was affected by the advent of this tool. With so much money being spent on ladders instead of new shelves and hospital bills, the KULM quickly became the richest entity in the system. They became so powerful the Kroonum politicians began to fear their very presence. Naturally, over time, the Ladder Union usurped the power of the politicians and were made the unquestionable leaders of every facet of life in the system. This is when the ‘Official Overseeing Gods’ part of their acronym was added on. Every job, income and family evolved to rely upon the ladder. Yet as time passed, the ladder became outdated and impractical. Yet rather than keep up with the times and invent entirely new technology and infrastructure (as such things are highly illegal) everyone in Kroonum was forced to subsidize ridiculous alterations to the ladder, to the point where some ‘ladders’ are not ladders at all, aside from a few obligatory rungs here and there. The details of what constitutes a ladder has been the spark of many fierce battles and riots. Nervous officials are often forced to appease mobs over the building of tools that are not at all ladders. So here we are, forced to climb this absurd device instead of doing something easy like teleporting or floating, all because of the Ladder Union’s throne of power watching over us.”

“That explains the cluster of planets we saw on the way here, the one connected by an intricate series of ladders,” said Krimshaw.

“That is the central processing factory of Kroonum ladders and ladder-related products such as the Varnishizer, the only varnish on the market guaranteed to dry in open space. The cluster is known simply as Planet KULMOOG. It is probably one of the dullest and yet most frightening places you could visit. How is it both dull and frightening at the same time you ask? It is dull considering the fact that nothing goes on there besides the churning out of more ladders and ladder-related products. It is frightening because all your words and actions are charted by the ever present eyes and ears of KULMOOG Surveillance. Anyone suspected of being a spy or of being even remotely anti-ladder is tortured for information about the supposed perpetual plot to replace the ladder. KULMOOG has grown so paranoid over losing power that generally most everyone is suspected of being a spy.”

“Let’s not go to Planet KULMOOG,” suggested Rip.

“Another place we shouldn’t go is the topmost layer of Lincra. There is nothing but a bunch of ladders going up into the sky, leading nowhere. Endless hoards of tourists climb these ladders, but rather than turn around when the ladder runs out they merely attempt to continue climbing, thus falling to their death. There is never a shortage of new arrivals eager to climb the ladders, despite scattered bones covering the ground as a chilling warning sign. A fine living is made selling maps and provisions at the base of these ladders. It is incredibly easy to make a living there, for when you sell someone a map or a provision you merely wait for them to fall off the ladder, then collect your goods from the body and sell them again to the next hapless wanderer. It is not entirely known why these useless ladders exist, but the fact that people climb them is seen around the universe as a prime example of the height of stupidity. People climb the ladders simply because they are there. Some see it as a side-effect of the intense mental-conditioning that has gone down between the KULMOOG and the residents of Kroonum, as if to say the people of Kroonum have been trained to believe in the necessity of ladders to the point where they are physically incapable of stopping themselves from climbing a ladder when they see one. Other ideas are discussed, some more insane than others, including the usual fanatical religious groups who believe the ladders are God's way of announcing the Resurrection of the Messiah, or He Who Shall Survive the Ladder-Climb. Something like 45% of ladder-deaths are said to be people who think they are some sort of saviour. One thing is known, these dangerous ladders are allowed to remain because of the prodigious bribes being supplied to the KULMOOG by the profiteering merchants who lurk by the bone-riddled ladder's base.”

“Let us now descend the ladder in silence,” suggested Rip.

“To commemorate the passing of the ladder climbers?” asked Krimshaw.

“No, because I’m sick of hearing about them.”

And so the group finished the remainder of the journey in silence. With each passing layer they could feel the intense heat of the fiery core growing stronger. Krimshaw shed some of his clothing. He seemed to do this purely out of survival instinct, as heat stroke is the most common shared experience amongst tourists who visit Subterranean Layers, yet it was likely that he subconsciously knew if he wore less clothing the Carnival Greegs would be less offended by his presence. After what felt like eternity, the group arrived at Subterranean Layer 53, also known as the Royal Lincran Carnival Zoo.

The word ‘Royal’ could not have been a more inappropriate word to place in front of ‘Lincran Carnival Zoo.’ The place was a nasty dungeon. Greeg feces caked the stone walls. Whoops of pain emanated from an unknown distance. Chutes descended from the roof into the cages, evidently serving as feeding troughs as they spewed runoff organs from the Layer of Mildly Decent Surgeons Who Will Perform Surgery For All the Wrong Reasons. Dangerous aliens slithered along the edges of the shadowed frames, hoping to make a living by pickpocketing the space-yuppies. The space-yuppies were numerous, dim-witted and slow to the reflex. A fine living was made by the pickpockets.

Many passersby had noticed Krimshaw.

“Why do they keep pointing at me and whispering?” he asked Rip.

“Uh... they’re just admiring your jacket. Isn’t it made from the pelt of a Pelexor Snow-Demon? Those are impossible to kill, and tougher to skin.”

“I’m not wearing my jacket. It’s boiling hot down here.”

“They can see you carrying the jacket.”

“I'm not carrying my