A Symol Matter

     He leant on his spade and surveyed his fields. They ran slightly downhill and towards the river, from which he could pump water for irrigating his crops. Naturally, this usually meant that he needed to spend a few tedious hours a day manually working the ancient pumping mechanism, but Dawid didn’t mind too much. A few of his neighbours had invested in Moltaran technology, which was able to perform automated watering. Admittedly, the systems were very efficient. Nonetheless, Dawid was mistrustful of them. It was not unknown for them to break down, and parts were always extremely hard to source. He had heard that the Moltarans were still wary of allowing anyone but themselves to attend, repair or maintain their technology, as the consequences of shoddy work could prove explosive. Better not to risk it, Dawid had decided.

     Beyond the river lay the woods. Records showed that they had once been called the Kingswood, but since the arrival of Illusen many years ago, they had become known amongst the farm folk as the Faerie’s Wood. Illusen had set up her home in a small clearing. Dawid could just see a small gathering of neopets, Mootix-sized at this distance, coming together to visit the earth Faerie. Perhaps they were there to pick up some Rain Water Shampoo, perhaps to perform one of her quests, or perhaps to ask her for a problem-solving favour in return.

     Dawid was facing a problem of his own. His carefully curated carrot crop was potted with numerous holes that had a diameter suspiciously similar to that of a Symol. He ruefully prodded the example before him with his spade, which he had just finished filling in.

     “Howdy neighbour,” called a voice from the next field, “I see you haven’t had much luck with sorting out those Symols then.”

     “Not just yet,” replied Dawid, through slightly gritted teeth, “they are being particularly persistent this year.”

     “You should do as I did,” continued Dawid’s neighbour, “Get yourself some Symol-be-gone. One spray keeps the Symols away.”

     Dawid felt his brow furrowing slightly. It was true enough that Symol-be-gone appeared to be effective, for he had not seen any evidence of Symols on Farmer Ted’s fields since his crops had been sprayed with the stuff a few weeks back. Still, he was unconvinced that this was a proportional solution. After all, he did have a bit of a soft spot for the little creatures, and enjoyed watching them gambling in the grass. He didn’t really mind their sampling his produce every once in a while. A Symol would only take what was needed and leave the rest behind. He only wished that they would be a little more prudent in how often they emerged. The numbers were especially large this year. He couldn’t spend all day filling in holes. He had pumping to do.

     “Thank you Farmer Ted for your further recommendation,” said Dawid, ‘I will continue to consider it.”

     “Suit yerself,” said Farmer Ted, “‘Twas only a suggestion”.

     Dawid watched as Farner Ted sauntered away, whistling an old farming tune. Whilst Dawid didn’t want to resort to Symol-be-gone, things couldn’t continue as they were. His recurring dreams of filling in Symol tunnels had started again night. It was time to visit the Faerie in the glade.

     —-

     Later that same day, Dawid found himself at the edge of Illusen’s glade. The number of visitors was gradually reducing, as the last of the panting questers returned with the items for which the Faerie had asked. Illusen showed the same, warm enthusiasm for each item, as if each returning neopet, or perhaps item, was of equal importance.

     Dawid waited until the crowd had thinned to a trickle, and Illusen appeared to be free. He approached her politely, even thinking to remove the piece of straw from his mouth before speaking.

     “Good evening, your Faerieship,” he said.

     “The same to you,” replied Illusen. Her voice was like warm rain on a summer’s day, tinged with joy and laughter, “I believe that you must be Farmer Dawid? You live just beyond the river of these woods.”

     “That’s quite right ma’am. Just up on the hillside there, near the cheeserolling and between Farmer Farmer and Farmer Ted.”

     Dawid could see a small wrinkle form in Illusen’s nose at the mention of Farmer Ted, but it swiftly passed.

     “Well it’s just lovely to meet you at the very least. How can I help you? Or are you wanting to help me? There are always a couple of jobs for the willing participant,” Illusen said, gesturing around the glade.

     “That’s very kind of you ma’am,” said Dawid in return, “But I was hoping that you could help me resolve a Symol problem. You see, their tunnelling has caused my fields to become quite the trip hazard with all the holes. Without some form of intervention, things could turn out quite badly come harvest time. I don’t really want to have to resort to Symol-be-gone.”

     At the mention of this, Illusen looked up sharply with narrow eyes.

     “Certainly not,” she said emphatically, “that would be quite wrong indeed. Symols are really quite intelligent creatures you know. They make extremely close family connections and create the most intricate underground warrens you could imagine. Using only their nose, they can tell fresh from rotting crops at vast distances underground to find safe food. Some have even been able to teach a Symol tricks. Perhaps you could train the local Symols to avoid your crops?”

     “Possibly,” replied Dawid in a low voice, turning over what Illusen said in his mind, “Although something else you mentioned may have just given me an idea…”

     —-

     “What's that?” said the blue Kacheek with a look of puzzlement, “You want to take away how much of it?”

     It was the next day, and Dawid had awoken early to visit Meri Acres farm, the largest this side of Meridell. He has made his way to a distant corner where the blue Kacheek reigned custodian.

     “If you’ve no objections, as much as I can carry,” said Dawid, “which is just the one wheelbarrow for the time being. I may come back for more though”

     The Kacheek scratched his head absentmindedly.

     “I ‘spose it can’t do any ‘arm,” he said, “although I must say this is most irregular. Folks usually want to add to the big old rubbish ‘eap, not to take stuff away. What do you plan to do with it?”

     Dawid only raised an eyebrow in response as he loaded up the wheelbarrow with a borrowed pitchfork. When he was done, the pile of rotting rubbish was nearly tottering over in his wheelbarrow. It appeared to smoulder as he pushed it along back to his smallholding.

     ——

     A couple of weeks later, Dawid was once again stood at the water pump, moving the handle up and down as had always done, reflecting on the success of his pest control tactics. It had only taken a couple of wheelbarrows worth of decomposing matter to fill the Symol holes, which he then sealed over with soil. There had been nary a sign of so much as a Symol mound since then. It seemed as if the tunnelling Petpets were giving his fields a wide berth.

     He had also just received some most interesting news from Farmer Ted. There had been a recall on the Symol-be-gone, which was apparently causing vegetables to mutate more than if they had been grown in the Virtupets space station greenhouses. Unfortunately, Farmer Ted’s entire crop of carrots would have to be written off.

     Dawid allowed himself a small smile as he continued moving the handle of the pump. His carrots were sure to fetch an extremely good price this year.

     The End.