Once upon a time there was a very strange little boy who lived all alone on a far away planet. He’d been left there when his chief three parents had decided that he was grown-up enough to settle down in his own environment, but SUZZU didn’t feel grown-up. He felt deserted.
The funky green planet where they’d left him, SUZZU had named Zoop. The name had no particular meaning. It wasn’t because the word rhymed with soup or because there were lots of zoo animals in abundance. In fact, Zoop had very little weather at all, and none of it was soupy with the low-hanging fogs like his former home had possessed. As to animals, there were almost none of them at all – only a couple of low-flying insects, two species of which were heavy winged with banana coloring across the backs and antennae that held tiny spotlights at each tip. But, the name Zoop was just as good as Planet Barbecue or Planet Mittlebox, and besides, there was no one around to complain they didn’t like the name. So, Zoop, it was.
Zoop was a planet so big that it seemed that SUZZU would never reach the other side even though he’d walked and walked, skipped, cartwheeled, and even crawled when he grew weary, yet his trip to see it all was now in its 643rd day. Of course he would know when or if he had completely its circumference and had once again come to the drop-off point where his parents had left him, for they had placed a silticoff marker there, one that they could hone into if they ever needed to contact him again. But that odds of that were not great, they had told him. It was time for him to be separate.
SUZZU glanced up. He had noticed that Zoop rotated slowly, much more slowly than his planet of birth. Zoop’s movement in the sky wouldn’t even have been perceptible, except that he could feel the planet humming, feel the vibration under his toes. In fact, he could close his eyes and share the rhythm. The song SUZZU heard sounded like this: ZOOOOOOO, ZOOOOO. Puh.
Did all planets make such music? Did they all shimmy to some inner melody of planethood? It was a question SUZZU wondered about as he walked. Sometimes he sang along, but the planet grew silent then, silent as if listening . . . or as if angry that he would dare to accompany the planet’s tune. SUZZU hoped it was the latter, because that would mean that he wasn’t actually alone, that someone, even if it were just a planet, someone was there with him. Oh, how lovely that would be. But, if he made the only other being in any direction angry, that would not be a good thing. So, mostly, SUZZU didn’t try to sing. It seemed a whole lot safer just to listen.
Everyday, when SUZZU looked upwards, all he could see was a huge moon that shown down, day or night. It never left the planet’s side, but leered unendingly, its cratered gullies and pockmarked pimples, showing that once it had been turned away, its back to the planet. What had happened to make it summersault? That was another question that occupied SUZZU’s mind, another query with no resolution.
One day when SUZZU encountered another large lake in which he could not only satisfy his thirst, but bathe his overly tired feet, he discovered that there was a different kind of animal living on the planet. It was a fish, not the kind that would be interested in friendship, but the kind that was slimy and squirmy when touched. And just a quickly as SUZZU had caught it, the fish was rapidly swimming away, its shiny green tail paddling the water so fast it was as if it believed that SUZZU would chase it.
Because of that, SUZZU stayed by the lake for the whole day, waiting for the fish to return, hoping it would get over its fear and come back to chat, but the day grew hot, then cold, then hot again, and only a couple of insects buzzed about his head, then flitted away. Night fell and SUZZU slept, then rose up and ventured off. At least SUZZU had something else to ponder about. He named the fish BUKI, wondered whether it could ever be tamed, and trudged onwards.
Until finally, on the 934th day since his arrival on Planet ZOOP, reaching the top of the highest mountain, or at least the highest mountain he’d encountered on his trek, SUZZU stared down at the valley below, gasped, then let out a cry of “Offlemehele,” which kind of means, I don’t believe it.
For you see, SUZZU was staring down on a huge crowd of people, and they were all cheering for him, crying out welcomes. SUZZU ran forward, met their open arms, then laughed and cried.
When he discovered that all them were his peers and had clustered together after their individual hike from the arrival point, SUZZU found out that they were the beginning of a brand new settlement.
SUZZU’s mouth split open with happiness. He hummed in joy. His feet beat a melody that blended in perfectly with Zoop’s. Except, he discovered, ZOOP was really called MAG, but who cares about a name? The truth was that he was home.
SUZZU brushed down his long tresses, curled them about his three slender horns, and looked about for two likely mates. It wasn’t long before he found them. Then, arm in arm and arm, the three snuggled happily, feet soaking in the silver lake at the edge of the settlement. Life was very, very good.
By Shaara
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