during the brief moment when, Lynn and Rand looking at each other, Stripe was able to direct a secret glance at Billy.
Was it a sneer? Something close to a wink? Billy wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help feeling apprehensive about the days ahead.
C H A P T E R
TEN
I t was ironic, Gizmo mused sadly. Once again he had become a pariah, if not an object of outright loathing. The process of alienation was a familiar one, but he had been spared it for nearly four decades—since the China Sea crossing, in fact. How strange it was that a gentle and adaptable creature such as himself should be subjected to prejudice only by his own species.
It was at times such as this that he nearly hated Mogturmen, his creator. His genetic miscalculations assured that minority Mogwai, of which Gizmo was one, would be instantly recognized and hated by the majority. Physically they all looked approximately the same; the massive differences were internal, involving character, ambition, desire for peace. So indelibly were these differences etched in the personalities of every Mogwai that there was no hiding or disguising them. Stripe was barely an hour old when he knew Gizmo was one of them.
“So,” he said coldly, “we’ve encountered one of the eternal ones. You are that, aren’t you?”
Gizmo did not have to respond. Stripe knew the answer even as he asked the question, and it infuriated him.
“It’s not fair that you should be allowed such a long life and we such a short one,” Stripe hissed in Mogwai words.
“It was an accident of Mogturmen’s creative process,” Gizmo replied softly.
“You also have more knowledge than we,” Stripe charged. “More life and more knowledge. Why don’t you share both with us?”
“It’s not possible.”
“And you’re glad it’s not possible.”
Gizmo shrugged.
“What is the reproductive secret?” Stripe demanded. “You saw how we got here, so you must know.”
“Why do you want to know?” Gizmo asked.
“We want there to be more of us. If we’re doomed to short lives, at least we can spread our species, enjoy the company of our massed millions.”
“It’s not a good idea,” Gizmo murmured.
“We’ll find it out, sooner or later,” Stripe hissed.
“I won’t tell you,” Gizmo said firmly.
Stripe balled his short pointed fingers into something resembling fists. “I want to kill you,” he said coldly. “But I can’t. Something is holding me back.”
“It’s the one responsible emotion Mogturmen was able to keep in us,” Gizmo explained. “We’re incapable of killing each other.”
“You have other information we need,” Stripe continued. “There’s something that can kill us in large doses, cause us pain in smaller doses. What is it?”
“You will find out soon enough.”
“Chetz-wubba!” Stripe rasped, swearing in Mogwai. “Why must you be so secretive?”
“It’s my only weapon.”
“There is another thing we must find out,” Stripe persisted. “We are capable of becoming larger and more powerful. What causes that?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
“I won’t.”
“It’s foolish of you to withhold that. Why not use it for yourself at least?”
“Because then I would become one of the majority, with a brief and violent life.”
“We’ll find out what it is,” Stripe promised. “It’s a simple thing. Intuitively I know that. It can elude us only so long.”
“Perhaps much longer than you think,” Gizmo countered. “Perhaps it will elude you for your entire lifetime.”
Stripe ground his teeth angrily. “Tell us now and we’ll go easy on your friends.”
“No. When you change you’ll forget. I’ve seen it happen before.”
“Very well,” Stripe muttered. “Be uncooperative if you want. But we’re going to find out what we need to know to escape these puny bodies and create more of us. And when we do—”
Gizmo managed to face the infuriated Stripe with a determined look. “I
Was it a sneer? Something close to a wink? Billy wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help feeling apprehensive about the days ahead.
C H A P T E R
TEN
I t was ironic, Gizmo mused sadly. Once again he had become a pariah, if not an object of outright loathing. The process of alienation was a familiar one, but he had been spared it for nearly four decades—since the China Sea crossing, in fact. How strange it was that a gentle and adaptable creature such as himself should be subjected to prejudice only by his own species.
It was at times such as this that he nearly hated Mogturmen, his creator. His genetic miscalculations assured that minority Mogwai, of which Gizmo was one, would be instantly recognized and hated by the majority. Physically they all looked approximately the same; the massive differences were internal, involving character, ambition, desire for peace. So indelibly were these differences etched in the personalities of every Mogwai that there was no hiding or disguising them. Stripe was barely an hour old when he knew Gizmo was one of them.
“So,” he said coldly, “we’ve encountered one of the eternal ones. You are that, aren’t you?”
Gizmo did not have to respond. Stripe knew the answer even as he asked the question, and it infuriated him.
“It’s not fair that you should be allowed such a long life and we such a short one,” Stripe hissed in Mogwai words.
“It was an accident of Mogturmen’s creative process,” Gizmo replied softly.
“You also have more knowledge than we,” Stripe charged. “More life and more knowledge. Why don’t you share both with us?”
“It’s not possible.”
“And you’re glad it’s not possible.”
Gizmo shrugged.
“What is the reproductive secret?” Stripe demanded. “You saw how we got here, so you must know.”
“Why do you want to know?” Gizmo asked.
“We want there to be more of us. If we’re doomed to short lives, at least we can spread our species, enjoy the company of our massed millions.”
“It’s not a good idea,” Gizmo murmured.
“We’ll find it out, sooner or later,” Stripe hissed.
“I won’t tell you,” Gizmo said firmly.
Stripe balled his short pointed fingers into something resembling fists. “I want to kill you,” he said coldly. “But I can’t. Something is holding me back.”
“It’s the one responsible emotion Mogturmen was able to keep in us,” Gizmo explained. “We’re incapable of killing each other.”
“You have other information we need,” Stripe continued. “There’s something that can kill us in large doses, cause us pain in smaller doses. What is it?”
“You will find out soon enough.”
“Chetz-wubba!” Stripe rasped, swearing in Mogwai. “Why must you be so secretive?”
“It’s my only weapon.”
“There is another thing we must find out,” Stripe persisted. “We are capable of becoming larger and more powerful. What causes that?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
“I won’t.”
“It’s foolish of you to withhold that. Why not use it for yourself at least?”
“Because then I would become one of the majority, with a brief and violent life.”
“We’ll find out what it is,” Stripe promised. “It’s a simple thing. Intuitively I know that. It can elude us only so long.”
“Perhaps much longer than you think,” Gizmo countered. “Perhaps it will elude you for your entire lifetime.”
Stripe ground his teeth angrily. “Tell us now and we’ll go easy on your friends.”
“No. When you change you’ll forget. I’ve seen it happen before.”
“Very well,” Stripe muttered. “Be uncooperative if you want. But we’re going to find out what we need to know to escape these puny bodies and create more of us. And when we do—”
Gizmo managed to face the infuriated Stripe with a determined look. “I
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