Young Tales of the Old Cosmos (5 page)

Orion hissed to Eridanus, “Great! A story about fleas!”

“Sarcasm, is that?” asked Eridanus.

“Of course it is, you blithering idiot!” gasped Orion.

“Don’t turn on me!” huffed Eridanus.

“Gentlemen, please!” begged Cassiopeia.

Ophiuchus barely paused for breath as he proceeded with his story and clearly he wasn’t aware of any bickering among his listeners. “In the cities of Earth may be found the institution of the pub. The pub is a grand thing. It’s a kind of house in which is sold strong drink for the purpose of getting a man or woman drunk. How the humans love to visit the pub! The pub I want to describe to you can be found in a city called
Cardiff
, which is in a land known as
Wales
, where it rains without surcease and where the only viable currency is umbrellas. The name of that pub is
The Tall Story
and the landlord is Hywel Price and the quality of his beer ensures a loyal and regular supply of dazed customers.”

“I wish he would speak in English and not Highfalutin, because some of us aren’t linguists,” sighed Leo.

“In English? Do we speak in English?” cried Taurus.

“Sorry, I don’t know what I meant by that. I must be ill. I meant to say Constellish. It came out wrong…”

But Taurus scrunched up his face dubiously.

“Hush! I’m listening!” said Draco.

“Some of those regular customers,” Ophiuchus was saying, “include a mad inventor by the name of Karl Mondaugen, and two friends, Harold the Barrel and Billy Belay, not to mention Madame Ligeia and Flann O’Brien and dozens of others. I didn’t make those names up, I promise! I want you to concentrate until you can visualise the scene for yourselves. It’s dark inside the pub, but a low fire is burning in the grate. Harold has an itch on his left buttock and he scratches it with a pair of tongs. Billy accuses him of scraping the bottom of the barrel. That’s the level of wit to be found in the lounge! Suddenly the door opens and a figure enters. He nods at Mondaugen, who is busy fiddling with spare parts in the corner, then he strides forward to the bar.

“It turns out that he is Dr Kennedy and he’s a qualified psychiatrist. I won’t explain what one of those is, because then I’d have to explain every other meaningless word in this tale. He orders a beer from Hywel and he stands to drink it with the rain dripping off his face and then he puts down his empty glass and begins to talk.”

“What does he say?” prompted Cassiopeia.

“He starts to tell a tale, a story about what happened to him a few days earlier,” answered Ophiuchus with a small frown of concentration, “while he was at work, busy with his psychiatric practice. Actually I think I’ve made a tiny mistake, I believe he was a psychoanalyst instead, but as I’m not human, how can I be expected to know the difference? Anyway, this is a résumé of the story he related:

“He began by saying, ‘I recently had a most unexpected patient come to visit me, not a human being or even a clever animal, but an inanimate object that was sentient. Has anyone ever heard of such a thing! For many minutes I was too surprised to react, but finally I recovered my wits and asked it to lie down on the couch.’

“And at this point, Karl Mondaugen interrupted with, ‘I’m not the only mad inventor at large in the world. I believe there’s a fellow by the name of Frabjal Troose who specialises in imparting consciousness to everyday items such as tables, kettles and shoes.’

“Dr Kennedy nodded with some relief, ‘Then it must have been one of his creations. Anyway, the object in question was a telescope, a reflector in fact, a 12 inch Schmidt-Cassegrain if you want to be very precise, and it said to me, ‘I won’t lie down, thanks, I’m tripod mounted’ and so I didn’t want to press the issue. I asked the telescope what the trouble was, had it been having suicidal thoughts, was it hearing voices, etc? But it replied in the negative to those questions and then it sighed and said, ‘I want to tell you a story, if that’s acceptable.’ Naturally I nodded my approval and the telescope began describing a discovery it had recently made which would rattle the science of astronomy to its core.’

“Hywel Price and the other patrons of
The Tall Story
waited patiently while Dr Kennedy paused to order another beer. Because they are human they had very alien assumptions and nobody in the room objected to Dr Kennedy’s definition of astronomy as ‘science’ whereas we constellations know it’s just an art and that it shouldn’t be confused with astrology, a real science. Anyway, he drank his beer.”

Ophiuchus paused at this point for breath…

“It’s a tale within a tale within a tale!” cried Libra. “I hope it doesn’t go on much longer! I’m so confused!”

“I’m sure all the loose ends will get tied up,” said Gemini.

“Who gives a damn?” sneered Orion.

Ophiuchus was finally ready to resume his account. “When the second glass of Dr Kennedy was empty he continued his tale by saying, ‘I asked the telescope to proceed with its story and it told me that while studying the constellation known as Orion it had noticed a dramatic change in one of its stars. The star Betelgeux. That’s one of the most famous stars in the entire sky. Betelgeux is a red giant, in other words it has consumed all its hydrogen and is eating other fuels instead, expanding in the process until it becomes a bloated monster. Betelgeux is one of the largest and reddest stars anywhere. It’s a firm favourite.’

“And Hywel Price answered, ‘We all know what Betelgeux is, but how does this concern anyone at all?’

“To which Dr Kennedy said, ‘The telescope had noticed that Betelgeux had turned from red to pink. It was no longer a red giant but a pink giant! What could it mean? One thing. The star Betelgeux had ‘come out’ as gay. That’s the only conclusion.’ Yes.

“The mightiest star in the toughest constellation was now openly gay. It had to mean trouble somewhere along the line. Orion is far too macho to be rational about it. That’s me speaking now, not Dr Kennedy, and the reason I told that tale was to break the news obliquely on behalf of Orion because if left to himself I don’t think he’ll ever do that, he’ll just keep it secret and grow more and more bad tempered. The gayness of Betelgeux explains his recent grouchiness.”

Gemini peered at Orion. “Is this true?”

Libra squinted. “Yes, it is. I can see the colour of Betelgeux for myself and it’s bright pink. Not at all red.”

Orion was acutely embarrassed. “I did want to make an announcement but I didn’t know how to save face.”

“Why does the sexuality of Betelgeux matter?”

Orion shifted uncomfortably. “Well, it
shouldn’t
matter, but when you have a certain image to display…”

“None of us care in the slightest!” cried Cygnus.

“Really? You still think I’m a big strong virile constellation? The most powerful of all of you, a hero?”

“Of course! Don’t be ridiculous!”

Ophiuchus waited a few more moments and then smiled. “Now that our friend Orion has become reconciled to his most famous star turning gay, let me reveal a coda to the story I told you. Let me take you back to that pub on that planet… By the way, I forgot to stress that Dr Kennedy was born under
my
sign. After a third beer, he explained that Betelgeux had suddenly turned pink not because he’s gay, but because he has taken a small step to the right in his politics. That star is no longer a communist but merely a socialist, a pinko!”

“Oh, I see,” said Orion.

“None of us should allow ourselves to be defined by any isolated star in our bodies,” laughed Ophiuchus.

“Why not?” wondered Libra.

“Remember what I said about parallax?”

“No, what did you say about it?”

“Not much really, but I did point out that each star is only
apparently
inside our bodies. So whatever Betelgeux does or becomes, whether he adopts socialism, gayness, vegetarianism, or anything else, is really only his business and only affects Orion if he deliberately lets it. From other parts of the galaxy Betelgeux isn’t within his constellation but in one of us instead or in no constellation at all.”

“That’s such a weird thought. And I suppose that the individual cells in the bodies of those fleas don’t determine the behaviour of those bodies? Is there a moral lesson here, perhaps?”

Ophiuchus made a sour face. “Not a moral lesson, oh no. A lesson of some kind, but not a moral one!”

“Thank goodness for that!” laughed Taurus.

They all turned to look at him. “Goodness? What’s that?”

But Ophiuchus was already starting a new story. This one was even more like a lecture than the last.

“How a human can find the Earth if lost in deep space… All he needs to do is scan the heavens for a constellation he recognises. There will be only one and it’ll look much smaller than he remembers it. Then he heads in that direction, because that’s the direction of Earth. As he gets closer, the constellation he recognises will expand and the other stars around him will start to line up in the familiar patterns. When everything is back to normal, he’ll find himself home.”

“Very nice,” said Orion, “but I’m more interested in stories about
The Tall Story
now. Will you explain why that Karl Mondaugen was fiddling with spare parts in the corner?”

“Certainly. He’s an inventor. He was inventing.”

“What was he inventing?”

Ophiuchus frowned as he visualised the relevant scene, then blinked in alarm. “An artificial space giraffe!”

When the Milky Way was invited to spend a free afternoon at the fairground, she was so delirious with joy that the accretion disk surrounding the supermassive black hole at her heart began to pulsate dangerously fast. The Andromeda Galaxy tried to lower the pulse rate with a few soothing words but it was a long time before the Milky Way was calm enough to speak.

“I’m simply overwhelmed by the offer,” she explained, “because I was convinced the other galaxies hated me. I know my fleas have made me unpopular but they aren’t contagious and I believe I deserve sympathy rather than censure.”

“Your fleas? Ah yes, the planets around your stars,” said Andromeda.

“It’s not my fault I have them and I don’t even know where they came from. Are they sufficient reason to treat me like a pariah?”

“I don’t do that,” pointed out Andromeda.

The Milky Way smiled faintly. “Sorry, my friend, I didn’t mean you. Nor did I mean the other members of the Local Group and I
do
appreciate the fact that the Magellanic Clouds, the Triangulum Galaxy, the Phoenix Dwarf and all the associated systems have stood by me and refused to do a
red shift
, as I believe running away is now called. But the rest of them I despise. Some of those cowards are receding so fast they are approaching the speed of light. It’s enough to make me believe in the cosmological constant!”

“An enigmatic force acting in the opposite sense to gravity? Steady on!” blurted Andromeda.

“Well, that’s the way it looks to me. They can’t wait to get as far away as possible! I hope the lot of them end up with their own nasty dose of planets, a dozen for every star, and moons in orbit around those planets, and spaceships in orbit around those moons…”

“That’s rather drastic,” commented Andromeda.

The Milky Way sighed and then nodded. “You’re right, there’s no point being bitter. I have fleas and it’s just bad luck rather than a case of divine retribution. Besides, I’m clearly accepted by the majority again, otherwise they wouldn’t have sent me this invitation, so it’s poor form to continue complaining. Sorry for making such a fuss!”

Andromeda winced and said, “Talking about divine retribution and related theological matters…”

“Yes?” frowned the Milky Way.

“It wasn’t the other galaxies who invited you to the fairground, but a pantheon of forgotten gods who exist in a parallel dimension. They have decided to briefly cross into our universe. You
will
oblige them during their visit, won’t you?”