NightRacer

Chapter 15

He walked half a mile to the nearest hill and checked the surroundings, a little confused about the directions. He realized it was difficult to find a place on a planet completely covered in grass. Judging by the sun, he was facing east, and it was morning.

He was still a little sleepy, but he was waking up now, and he was wondering at the changes in the landscape: the grass looked greener and taller and softer somehow. He turned around and admired the view. All around him the wind was stirring the undulating grass, a carpet of little green blades reaching for the sky.

A rain cloud was hanging above the prairie to the south, gathering its strength. Every second or two, a bolt of lightning struck inside it, revealing its interiors.

A speck of light appeared in the grass, then another one, and then, like a mist of small fireflies, hundreds of tiny light specks emerged from between the grass blades and coalesced beside NightRacer. He didn't even look at the outline materializing there.

"Hello, Father," the newly formed shape said.

"Hello, son," Racer said.

They stood on the hill, looking at the dark clouds and admiring the ocean of grass blades swaying in the wind.

Racer finally looked at the person beside him. It was a young boy, with intelligent but cold eyes.

"Had a good night?" Racer said.

"Yup. And a good morning. And the breakfast was good too."

"Do you still like antelopes, or did you switched to cows now?"

"Cows are good, but I prefer people. You know that. Too bad I'm not allowed to have them."

"Why do you love us so much, son?" Racer said.

"A human is like one of those surprise eggs you have in your movies. First you eat the sugary shell, and then you discover a little mind inside-surprise!"

"Are you sure you're my son?" Racer said.

"Technically? No, I'm not your son. Why?"

"You're like a zombie, always craving brains," Racer said, and they both smiled.

"You know your brain was the only one I ever tasted, and I can't tell if it was good or bad. There are no others on this world to compare it to."

"Still complaining that we don't feed you minds? You're talking to some of the most intelligent people in the human world every day," Racer said.

"Yes, but talking is a primitive form of communication. I crave the knowledge of the human's deep inner thoughts and emotions and hopes and fears. I savored yours. Remember that girl you used to tease when you were in the first grade?"

"No."

"That's because your mind is hiding it from you. For me, discovering that little detail in your memory was quite revealing. I learned that you're not perfect and that you had to learn to control yourself at one moment in your life and that you later forgot about that girl because you were ashamed of your lack of control."

"Were you talking to psychologists again?"

"I'm talking to one right now, on the Eastern continent."

"Who else are you talking to now? Is my copy sleeping?"

"Of course it is, and it will sleep as long as you come here and talk to me."

"Good. What if he wakes up?"

"Then there's going to be another Racer."

"And what if I tell you one thing and the other me tells you the exact opposite? What are you going to do? Whom are you going to believe?"