FLASHed

19. The comet's tale

Tammy watched with anticipation as the spade slid easily into the soft soil. In a moment she would know if they had found a precious tuber. Her mother pulled back the wooden handle and lifted a plug of rich forest dirt, tipping it out onto the top of the leafy ground. Patch, the small tan and white dog bounced about excitedly, and the woman had to gently shoo it off to the side.

"That's odd," the mother said, "Patch is hardly ever wrong."

Tammy's shoulders dropped, but then she spied something and reached into the dirt. She pulled out a small faded blue object. It was a fragment and sharp at one end; she raised it up, 

"What's this?"

"That's no tuber, that's for sure."

She might have only been six-years-old, but Tammy was no fool. "I know it's not a truffle! But what is it? It's so pretty."

"I'm sorry Tam, I know you're a very smart girl." The mother took it for closer examination, "This is called plastic, but I don't think it was ever pretty."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it was made by them in the age of fools. It was made by the buggers."

"Oh." Tammy had heard of the buggers, mostly when her father or grandmother was angry; their cussing almost always included the word.

The mother saw Tammy's recoil from the word, "It's okay. I think you are old enough to know the truth." She moved to a large, moss and lichen-covered limestone rock and sat, patting for her daughter to sit next to her. "You're almost seven now, and I think it's time."

Tammy climbed up onto the rock with effort, as it may as well have been a mountain to her. Once they were both settled, the mother gave the child a squeeze, "You see these simple clothes we wear. Things we have made ourselves. Wonderful things that we can cherish and look after. Things that will last us a very long time?"

Tammy nodded.

"Once, we didn't value these things. Almost everything we touched was made by a machine, in fact, we hardly ever made anything for ourselves, other than money."

"Money?"

"Yes, like a pac, but not a bundle of things to trade for the same value, they were tokens of precious metal. In those times, money ruled the lands of men and women."

"The buggers used their money to make plastic, and, when they were finished with it, they would throw it away into the earth, into the sea, or burn it into the sky; it didn't matter, or, at least, it didn't matter to them."

Tammy sat transfixed by the story. For the first time, she felt important, like she was receiving grown-up knowledge.

"When the earth became sick, the buggers were surprised. When the firestorms came, the buggers were surprised. When the great floods came, the buggers were surprised. When the last war began, the buggers were surprised. They were surprised, too, when the great gifts of knowledge they had been given were taken away.

"Tammy, do you remember the Comet's Tale? The story of the great sky snake that made the seven settlements of our ancestor's?"

"Yes."

"Well, there is more to that story. You see, the great sky snake also destroyed the world of the buggers, finishing what they started.

"They were not ready for the gifts of the universe, and the sky snake taught them a lesson for the abuse they showed in return for her generosity. She sent down her children to take the buggers back to an age of iron."

"Mummy, will the great sky snake teach us a lesson too?"

"I can not say; the answer is up to you and your brother and all of the village children. But, if you treat her world right, then I say not, and perhaps, one day the knowledge that the buggers possessed will belong to you."

Leaves rustled as a fresh breeze passed over them; a white moth took refuge on Tammy's shoulder.

"Why do we call them buggers?"

"Because they buggered everything up--everything they touched--everything."

fin.

<◕~◕> first published here Sept 24, 2019