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A hunched figure in a heavy purple cloak shuffled aimlessly
through the markets of Neopia, moving slowly through the jolly crowds. His path
was hesitant, stopping randomly, apparently amazed by the yellow eesa trees and
bookstalls, until he was almost knocked off his feet by the swing of a blue Scorchio’s
shopping bag.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!” cried the
Scorchio, helping the figure to his feet. As he did so, the cloak’s hood fell
back, revealing a white-bearded Darigan Mynci. “A Darigan?! What are you, a
spy?” exclaimed the Scorchio, and looked around for help. “HEY, I’ve caught
a SPY!”
“No, no!” pleaded the elderly Mynci. “I’m no
spy, I’m a refugee! Please, don’t have me taken away – I’ve travelled so far
to escape that place and my story is terrible…”
The Mynci’s misery was plainly sincere, and the
hint of his adventures was intriguing. His thin purple paws shook as he held
them out in supplication. The Scorchio reconsidered, and offered his clawed
hand in tentative friendship.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s go to the Coffee Shop
down in the Arts Centre. It’s a bit more private there, and you can tell me
what you’re about. My name’s Camillo, by the way.”
Over a hot Juppie Java, the Mynci began his tale.
“My name is Professor Zophirus, and I was born
and raised in the Darigan Citadel. Even as a young cadet, I was very interested
in the way things worked, and I was let off some of my military training to
study, eventually becoming a professor. My great talent was inventing things,
and soon I had my own lab, with many assistants. My inventions won awards –
messaging systems that linked the whole citadel, gruel-mixing machines that
could feed entire squadrons in half the time. Locked away in a great, grand
set of rooms all my own, under bright artificial lights, I created some wonderful
and terrible things…” Here the Mynci sighed, and stared into his coffee. Camillo
was fascinated, and urged his new friend to go on.
“Well, as you may have guessed, amongst my inventions
were many weapons. I worked so hard my hair turned white; I never left my laboratory,
I was only faintly aware that we were at war again. Then one day Lord Kass came
to visit me himself. I dropped everything, of course. He’s a very imposing chap.
We walked together to the highest point of the citadel – I remember it was the
first fresh air I had tasted in years – and he pointed to Meridell, down below.
Except you could hardly see it for the clouds of smoke and explosions!
“‘There you are, Zophirus,’ said Lord Kass, swinging
an arm out across the scene of destruction. ‘This success is all of your doing!’
“I was aghast, as you can imagine. My Ivory Tower
was shattered. That same night I gathered up all my belongings and began to
run, as fast and as far as I could. So you find me here, alone and lost,” concluded
the Professor, shamefaced.
He glanced up from his coffee, now cold, to find
Camillo and several other Neopians hanging on his every word. There was a moment’s
silence before they all began to clamour at once, asking questions and offering
help. The elderly professor was overwhelmed by their interest and kindness.
By the end of an hour, they had found the professor
somewhere to live – an excitable Wocky had explained that her next-door neighbour
had moved to Mystery Island, so there was an empty house on her street – and
many offers of jobs, party invitations, tips on playing games. As Camillo and
Zophirus strolled back up into the open air, the Mynci was still marvelling
at his luck.
“It’s true what they say – Central Neopia is
like Paradise! Everyone is so good, and everything is so beautiful!” he whispered.
They passed the Bookshop and Bank, and the Professor darted suddenly away, his
eye caught by something.
“Like these! What are these delightful little
creatures called?” he asked. A somewhat thin and raggedy bunch of wild Meepits
was bouncing around in the juppie bushes. Using their sharp, chisel-like front
teeth, they wrestled with the fruit’s thick skin to get to the sweet juppie
juice inside. The teeming creatures swarmed around the Mynci’s feet, and he
reached down to pick up one small pink Meepit and place it on his palm. Camillo
shuddered.
“They’re Meepits. Some people domesticate them
and keep them as petpets, but not many. I can’t bear them, they give me the
creeps – look at their weird staring eyes!”
The Meepit on Zophirus’s palm was indeed an odd
creature. It twitched its nose and wriggled its hindquarters in a faintly distracted
way, its expression alternating between glassy-eyed blankness and a grouchy
frown. The old Mynci was enchanted, however, and he spoke softly to the little
creature.
“People don’t like your looks, do they, little
Meepit. Well, they seem to have let me off for mine, so I guess I’m in a position
to help you…”
When Camillo wandered by the house where his
new friend was staying, he could hear the sounds of banging and clanging several
streets away. Leaning over the front gate he saw the old Mynci enthusiastically
hammering out dents in a pile of pipes, with a great metal frame taking shape
in one corner of the garden beside a tall tree. Scurrying over everything were
Meepits of every colour.
“Good Faeries! What on Neopia are you doing?”
enquired the Scorchio, laughing.
Professor Zophirus jumped back, a delighted grin
on his face. He ran to seize his friend by the hand, dragging him around his
new makeshift open-air lab.
“My friend, I have found a new subject! You see
there are many juppie bushes in this garden – well, I observed the Meepits and
saw how difficult it is for them to get into these juppies they eat,” in his
enthusiasm, the professor mimed a Meepit gnawing on a tough juppie, and Camillo
couldn’t help but laugh. His friend continued “…and I began to formulate a hypothesis.
Then, as I was pondering, I stopped by the furniture shop and found all this
discarded plumbing, which they let me take away for free! And now I have a great
plan in hand – I’m going to build a Juppie-Juicing-Meepit-Feeding Machine! It
will improve life immeasurably for the little Meepits; I’m getting very fond
of them you know. I have a beta version here, see?”
The Professor bounded over to the mighty frame
Camillo had seen earlier. A young blue Meepit noticed what he was doing and
bounced eagerly over to the tree beside, settling herself on the lowest branch.
The professor pulled a few handles and poured a basket of juppies into a pulping
press, which began to squelch noisily. Three glass pipes emerged from the press
and with the flick of a switch, they began to charge up with juppie juice –
red, blue and yellow. Camillo was amazed.
“This is fantastic, professor, but how does it
feed the Meepits?”
“Aha!” cried the professor. “I am experimenting
with the ideal pipe layout to maximise efficiency. These pipes are so old, you
see – they collapse after sometimes only one use! So each time I have new ones,
and I twiddle them to make a path for the juice to run along – so!”
With great dexterity, the professor turned the
pipes, connecting them to the blue juice until it flowed straight to the little
blue Meepit, who gulped it greedily. Full of its favourite food, the Meepit
squeaked “Yay!” and scampered off.
Camillo was impressed. It was heartening to see
the professor so transformed already from the frightened, wizened old stranger
of the week before. He had the energy of a Mynci half his age, bouncing around
his garden almost as excitedly as his Meepits. The Scorchio still found the
little creatures creepy, but he couldn’t deny how happy they made Zophirus.
“I’ll come back and visit again next week,” he
chuckled. “See how you’re getting on!”
“Yes, yes,” replied the professor a little distractedly.
He returned to his work, humming a jaunty little tune under his breath.
Next week, the machine looked far shinier. The
pipes still had to be replaced after each juicing, but now up to two Meepits
could be fed at once. Many Neopians were now interested in the progress of the
machine, especially the Wocky who lived next door. She explained to anyone who
passed her that it had been she who had found the professor somewhere to set
up his marvellous machine.
Camillo had to fight his way past several spectators
to get to the professor’s garden again. He found his friend just as animated
as before, although a little frown was forming across his forehead and he seemed
more distracted than last time.
“Yes, now we can feed two Meepits, but it’s not
enough. For maximum efficiency I must feed at least three at once.” He returned
to his work, singing to himself again.
“What about the pipes?” asked Camillo. “Any luck
on making them stronger?”
The professor shot him a suspicious look. “The
pipes stay as they are.” He wouldn’t be drawn further.
His friend watched him work for a while, unable
to shake an uneasy feeling. The Meepits seemed to be staring at him as if he
were an intruder, and Zophirus wouldn’t stop trilling that wretched song.
“What are you singing, Zoph?!” cried Camillo
at last.
“Singing? Why, it’s a Meepit song. I mean… well,
Meepits don’t sing exactly, but it just came into my head while I was working
on the machine, and somehow I think it came from them. I think maybe they’re
trying to communicate with me. It’s a cheerful tune, isn’t it? Helps me concentrate.”
And with that the professor took up a large hammer and began banging on a pipe
so loudly that the blue Scorchio ran, his hands over his ears.
It was worse the next week. The machine still
stood in the garden, overrun with Meepits, but the professor was nowhere to
be found. Instead, a queue of Neopians waited to play with the shiny tubes,
delighting in puzzling out the best routes for the juice. Fat, bloated Meepits
were everywhere, wide smiles on their rabbity faces. Amused Techos and Tonus
debated adopting them – there was laughter and sunshine and happiness, but no
professor.
Camillo went into the house for the first time
to look for him – the place was filthy and derelict. “Professor?” he called,
and listened. From upstairs, he could hear that little tune being sung over
and over…
The professor was hiding in an unused bedroom,
crouched down on the floor amongst several Meepits. His nose twitched and he
was singing the Meepit song, over and over. Most terrifying of all, however,
were his eyes: as round and glazed as china plates. Camillo rushed over and
knelt beside him, aghast.
“They’ll never make that into a weapon, will
they?” begged the professor, suddenly seizing his friend’s arm tightly. “The
combinations change every time, it would be far too difficult to make it fire
quickly – they can’t make that into a weapon, can they?”
Camillo understood, and reassured his friend.
“It’s okay, Professor. Your machine is wonderful, it’s a triumph of giving and
kindness. You don’t make weapons any more. Lord Kass can’t find you here anyway.”
The professor let out a terrible, insane laugh.
“No, he’ll never find me now – the Meepits have told me! I’m their friend, you
know. I’m going to live with them now. He’ll never find me again, do you hear?!”
His voice rising to a shout, the Mynci stood and stared about himself for a
moment, wide eyed, before leaping through the window. He swung through the trees
as agile as a child, flying towards the woods behind the house. Half-a-dozen
Meepits swept over the windowsill to follow him, leaving one of their number
behind, staring at Camillo.
It sat quite still, just looking at him, and
twitching its nose.
The Scorchio backed away, terrified. What had
happened here, in the past week? Had the professor’s mind cracked simply from
terror of Lord Kass, or had the Meepits got something to do with it? Where had
that song come from, exactly? In the months and years to come, Camillo never
forgot his friend, fretting over his sudden descent into madness and how it
had come about.
The End
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