Paris: If It Wasn't You

It had been partly good news about one egg of the Bristlebirds surviving.

But now things have changed.

Paris is in lockdown.

In the hotel room in Montmartre:

Mai-Mai and her mother are camping on a duvet, under a sheet draped between two hotel chairs.

Gaius and Carl Linnaeus are talking, in low whispers.

Have you ever taken a life? whispers Carl.

Once or twice in Germania inferior, whispers Gaius. I was a praefectus alae. And we Romans were justified.

I have led a peaceable life, says Carl Linnaeus.

A phone rings. Hui Zhong's phone. She answers.

Zhen! Yes, we're all right. I know. This would never happen in China. Mai-Mai, it's daddy.

Mai-Mai: Hello daddy. We're camping.

Zhen Zhong: Is it fun?

Mai-Mai: Yes. As long as nobody kills us.

Zhen Zhong: Of course nobody will kill you.

Mai-Mai: Have you seen the news, daddy?

Zhen Zhong: Yes, dear. But you are safe, aren't you.

Mai-Mai: Yes, I wish you were here.

Zhen Zhong: Me too, Mai-Mai.

Mai-Mai: I've got a red moustache.

Zhen Zhong: Get mummy to send me a photo.

Mai-Mai: Okay. Bye daddy.

Zhen Zhong: Bye bye, Mai-Mai.

Ten minutes pass. The streets are quiet, except for police and ambulance sirens, far away........

Gaius is trying to sleep. His eyes are shut but his mind is still open. Should he call someone? Who though? The thought strikes him that someone might try to call him. A further thought strikes him that no one yet has.

Carl is trying to sleep. This is terrible. All those people, what a waste. And the killers dead too, what another waste, and what is the point of continuing to lobby for two degrees of global whatnot, and why hasn't his son called, the lazy young scoundrel....

Hui Zhong is trying to sleep. The duvet is uncomfortable. But camping is good for the spirit. She remembers the night on Mentougou mountain, with Xui Li, Sikong Shu, Arthur and Richie Porte. They ate savoury jelly. Dear China. Bad events don't happen there.......

Mai-Mai is thinking, as she stares up at the sheet. Imagine (she likes to imagine). Imagine you knew. Imagine it was like spirit wandering. Like knowing the man who got out of bed and put on his pants (hee hee) and went downstairs to open the box would find an egg in it even before he had done it.
Except finding an egg was good. Knowing that someone would shoot you for no reason was bad. And if it wasn't you, it was someone. Daddy forgot that.

The Red Flower Of Determinism

How absurd. Is Carl Linnaeus suggesting that his wandering spirit travelled faster than mobile technology?

Absurd, says Gaius. I am talking to Ray at this moment. He has not yet opened the box.

Do you want me to get out of bed now and open it? asks Ray. I may as well. I'm wide awake now.

If you don't mind, says Gaius.

What's happening? asks Mai-Mai.

Hush, says her mother. Look, the waiter has brought you another Wahaha. And it's not orange.

Mai-Mai inspects the Wahaha. It's red, and only slightly less curdled. And she is thirsty......

He's getting out of bed, says Gaius.

I know, says Carl Linnaeus.

He's putting on his pants, says Gaius.

Hee hee, laughs Mai-Mai.

He's going downstairs, says Gaius. He's opening the sliding door.

Yes, yes, I know, says Carl Linnaeus.

He's stepping out onto the balcony, says Gaius. He's going down the stone steps and into the .....

.....dried up garden, says Carl Linnaeus, where he might note his hibiscus has died.

(Carl is just being annoying)

Is it a red one? asks Hui Zhong. It's bad luck, to lose a red one.

I hope not, says Gaius. But it may not have died.

He throws a sharp look at Linnaeus.

Now what's happening? asks Mai-Mai, lifting the red Wahaha to her lips, and licking the top bit which is frothy.

Mr Moon is about to open the red box IN REAL TIME, says Gaius.

Of course, says Carl. Let's see if he recoils when he does it.

Indeed, says Gaius.

But something occurs to him.

How will he know?

Ray, is it open? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Ray Moon. Awwh!

What? asks Gaius. Can I ask you to describe what is happening exactly?

I have recoiled, says Ray, due to something being in the box that I had not expected.

Damn, says Gaius.

Heh-heh, gloats Carl Linnaeus.

Yuck! exclaims Mai-Mai, through her frothy red milky moustache.

(The Wahaha tastes yucky)

Don't finish it, warns her mother.

What's in it? asks Gaius.

Tomato, says Mai-Mai. It's so disgusting.

I was asking Moon, says Gaius. But I'm with you on tomato.

What's in the red box, Ray? asks Gaius.

Urr, says Ray. It's not quite as bad as I thought, now the air has cleared.

Cleared of what! roars Gaius.

You'll be pleased, on balance, says Ray.

Gaius is not going to ask him again. He waits for the reason.

Because, says Ray, the Bristlebirds have produced two more eggs, and only one of them's broken.

Jiggling The Fabric Of Time

I should call Ray, says Gaius. Let me think. What time is it now in New South Wales?

Early, says Carl. Or late, depending.

Never mind, says Gaius. I must know the fate of the Bristlebirds.

Why don't you use the pointers? asks Mai-Mai.

The grown ups catch their breath. From the mouth of a child comes wisdom.

Excellent idea, says Carl Linnaeus. But I've never used the pointers.

It can't be that hard, says Gaius. They are pointers. Therefore they point.

The trick is to get them pointing, says Carl, without influencing the direction.

Obviously, says Gaius. I suppose a jiggling motion is in order. Beat the drum.

Carl places the bone pointers on the sun rhombus in the centre of the drum.

Tam-tam-tam-tam, he beats the side of the drum with the horn hammer. The leather tails fly.

Stop, says Gaius.

Carl stops beating.

Where are the pointers pointing? At which magical image?

The dead bird, says Hui Zhong.

The Spirit of Death, says Carl Linnaeus.

Wouldn't you know it, says Gaius.

There is a flaw, says Hui Zhong.

What? Everyone looks at the floor.

But no. She means a flaw in the procedure.

Gaius was watching the pointers, when he said stop, says Hui Zhong.

So I was, says Gaius. But you surely don't think I would exert undue influence to prove something that has no credibility.

No credibility? says Carl.

Hardly, says Gaius. It's all mumbo jumbo. But..... it does make one wonder.

Is your bird dead? asks Mai-Mai.

Birds, says Gaius. And that remains the question. I must call Ray.

Go ahead, says Carl Linnaeus.

Yes, go ahead, says the waiter, but first, would you care to order galettes and more coffee? You have been at this table for hours and only ordered one coffee per person, and one orange Wahaha.

Certainly, says Carl Linnaeus. More coffee, and galettes all round, and another Wahaha.

I don't want another Wahaha, says Mai-Mai. I wasn't allowed to drink the first one.  It was curdled.

Too late, she has said it. The waiter has gone.

Gaius calls Ray, in East Blaxland.

Moon, answers Ray. Go away, I'm sleeping. Who is it?

Gaius, says Gaius. Have you opened the red box yet?

No, says Ray.

Gaius looks at Carl.

He hasn't opened it yet, says Gaius. So much for your spiritual wandering.

You forget the time difference, says Carl.

Spirit Wanderings And Irrelevant Monkey

I saw a garden, says Carl Linnaeus. I saw a man, whose name is Moon.

The man in the moon! says Mai-Mai.

There is no man in the moon, says her mother, Hui Zhong. A Green Rabbit lives there, with the Goddess Chang'e.

This is no Chinese legend, says Carl Linnaeus. In my spirit wanderings I saw a man. He was opening a red box on a wooden table in a dried out back garden. His name is Moon.

Gaius needs more than this to be convinced of the truth of the story.

How did your wandering spirit know the man's name was Moon?

He received a phone call, says Carl. He answered it. He said: Pastor Ray Moon.

He never answers the phone that way, says Gaius.

Not to you perhaps, says Carl Linnaeus.

What was in the red box? asks Mai-Mai. Was it a monkey?

Why on earth would it be a monkey? asks her mother.

Ninghong brought one to show and tell, says Mai-Mai.

A monkey? says her mother, surprised.

No, a red box, says Mai-Mai.

What was in it? asks Carl Linnaeus, interested in spite of himself.

She wouldn't open it, says Mai-Mai.

So what's this about a monkey? asks Carl.

I thought it might be a monkey, says Mai-Mai. It still might be.

Now stop talking, Mai-Mai, says Hui Zhong. You have interrupted Carl's story.

Carl tries to gather his wandering thoughts. Where was he?

Supposing it was Ray Moon, says Gaius. And supposing he opened a red box in his garden. And supposing his garden was dried out as you say, which does in fact support the truth of your story, as he has been away from home for quite some time, and it is almost summer....

Carl is pleased to hear how convincing his story has been. And he has not yet reached the dénouement.

Carl continues: As my wandering spirit looked on, the man called Moon opened the red box. The moment he opened it, he recoiled.

Recoiled? says Gaius. As in, stepped back a little?

He means like a snake, says Mai-Mai. They have coils. If you step on a snake it recoils all around you.

Not always, says her mother. Only certain types of snakes do that. But well done, Mai-Mai, for making an intelligent guess at the meaning.

Not like a snake, in this case, says Carl Linnaeus. Moon recoiled IN HORROR.

Horror, you say, says Gaius. If what you say is true, this could be serious. The bristle birds were in the red box. What can have happened?

They may have died, says Carl Linnaeus. I didn't see into the box. My spirit journey had ended.

Mai-Mai is thinking.

She is making connections.

One: the mysterious pointers that she wasn't allowed to get her hands on.

Two: the dead birds in the red box of Moon.

Three: the Spirit of Death on the drum membrane, in the shape of a bird with a cross on its back.

Four: a monkey.

Of these, the monkey is irrelevant.

Spirit Of Sun Death And Moon

David Suzuki stands up to go. He has another meeting.

Carl Linnaeus, Hui Zhong and Gaius remain in the semi quiet corner.

Mai-Mai comes out from under the table. She is holding the drum.

How do you like it? asks Carl Linnaeus.

I like the pictures, says Mai-Mai. But it won't make a noise.

It's a magical drum of the Sami, says Carl Linnaeus. You need the special horn hammer with tails, and these vuorbi, or pointers. Only then can you make the noise.

Can I hold the hammer? asks Mai-Mai.

No, says her mother. We want no drum banging in here.

What about the pointers? asks Mai-Mai.

There is no point in using the pointers, says Carl Linnaeus, if you don't have the hammer with tails.

Let's just look at the pictures, says Hui Zhong. Look here's a rhombus.

Let's see, says Mai-Mai. Oh, you're wrong mummy! That's the sun.

Well done, Mai-Mai, says Carl Linnaeus. It is indeed the sun. And what else can you see on the membrane?

A boat and a beaver. A reindeer. A long bird with a cross on its back.

That is the spirit of death, says Carl Linnaeus.

It looks like a dead bird, says Hui Zhong.

How did you gain possession of this drum? asks Gaius.

I was given it by a noaidi, or Sami shaman, says Carl. He taught me how to use it to fall into a trance. In the trance, one can seek knowledge of how things are in other places.

How wonderful, says Gaius, if that should be the case.

What? Of course it's the case, says Carl Linnaeus. Allow me to show you. Stand clear.

He kneels on the floor beside the table in the semi quiet corner of the Moulin de la Galette in Montmartre and with the drum in his left hand begins beating it slowly with the horn hammer and tails.

Bam-bam-bam. The rhythm gathers speed and wildness. A crowd gathers around him, consisting of astonished Parisians and one or two environment ministers, in Paris for the climate talks.

Quoi? Qu'est-ce que c'est? Qui est ce grand fou?

Bam-de-bam-bam! Carl stops suddenly and rolls over on his tummy, rocking like a walrus.

Now for the hard part. He must place the drum, membrane down, on his back and lie on the floor in a trance while his spirit wanders.

He places the drum on his back, membrane down.
He falls into a trance.
His spirit wanders.

Yes. You can see he has done this before.

His spirit wanders to the airport, where Arthur, Pablo and Dries are just boarding a plane.

Not good enough. Gaius will expect something more impressive.

His spirit makes a grand leap across the planet to the back garden of Pastor Ray Moon who is in the process of opening a red box and recoiling.

Now that's bound to be pretty impressive.

Carl Linnaeus sits up.

Mushroom Internet Versus The Monster

The pre-meeting proper is over.

Océane has left, with the malodourous blue Swedish folder wedged strategically between the Chinese red folder and the Canadian green folder.

The others are still at the table, except for little  Mai-Mai who is playing under the table.

She is inventing a pleasant scenario, in which mushrooms warn pretty pink flowers of imminent danger.

Watch out, you Pinkies! whispers Mai-Mai. He's coming!

Yipes! Who's coming? answer the Pinkies, which are fashioned from torn white paper napkins.

The NIAN! whispers Mai-Mai Mushroom, rather too loudly.

(Mai-Mai is playing all parts)

Hush, Mai-Mai! says her mother, bringing her face under the table.

Hide, Pinkies! warns Mai-Mai Mushroom.

The white paper Pinkies look around them, but oh! they have nowhere to go.

We have nowhere to go, whisper the Pinkies, in raspy voices like tissue paper.

I will help you, says Mai-Mai Mushroom. First, turn on your computers.

Is my drum all right down there? asks Carl Linnaeus, above the table.

She's just playing a game, says Hui Zhong. The drum isn't in it.

Mai-Mai pulls at the leg of David Suzuki's trousers.

He brings his face down under the table.

What is it, Mai-Mai?

What's the password? whispers Mai-Mai.

What password? whispers David Suzuki.

For the Mushroom Internet, whispers Mai-Mai. I'm playing a game. The Pinkies are in danger.

Are they the Pinkies? asks David Suzuki, indicating the white scrunched-up tissues.

Yes, and I know that they're white, says Mai-Mai. That's because they're SCARED. Quick, give me the password.

That would be MYCORRHIZAE, says David Suzuki. Can you remember that name?

My crozzie eye, says Mai-Mai.

Close enough, says David Suzuki. What are they scared of?

The NIAN, says Mai-Mai Mushroom.

So they should be, says David Suzuki.

He lifts his head above the table.

So cute, says David Suzuki. She's invented a Mushroom Internet.

I thought that was you, says Gaius.

No no, not me, says David Suzuki. It's Earth's Natural Internet, and that wasn't me either.

Pardon me for being confused, says Gaius.

Quite understandable, says David Suzuki. It is the work of many scientists. Plants, including trees, connect to each other through structures called mycorrizhae. Ninety percent of land based plants are involved in mutually beneficial relationships with fungi. They.....

Arghhh! screams Mai-Mai, under the table.

David's head bumps Hui Zhong's as they both look under the table.

The password doesn't WORK! says Mai-Mai.

What happened to the Pinkies? asks David.

The NIAN ate them, says Mai-Mai sadly.

And it is true. They have all been eaten.

What an excellent game.

Earth's Natural Internet

Non, pas de letchi, says the barman at Moulin de la Galette. Peut-être la petite veut un Wahaha avec jus d'orange?

I don't think so, says Océane. Orange would curdle the milk. Let me go back and ask her.

Océane returns to the table in the semi quiet corner.

They don't have lychee, says Océane.

Aiyo! This is the first of many disappointments for Mai-Mai.

Wah-ha-ha!

Don't cry dear, says Hui Zhong. You are in a grown ups meeting.

David Suzuki likes children.

He says kindly to Mai-Mai: If you stop crying, I will tell you something amazing about mushrooms.

I hope your story isn't too long, says Océane.

Let's hear it in any case, says Carl Linnaeus.

Well, says David Suzuki, it appears that mushrooms are more important than we think. We now know that they help plants talk to one another.

What do they say? asks Mai-Mai,  She has already forgotten the jus.

Who? asks her mother. The plants or the mushrooms?

Both, says Mai-Mai.

Gaius would like to know the answer to this question as well.

Carl thinks he knows it.

David says: Mushrooms have underground threads called mycelia, and they form a network.

Like a computer? says Mai-Mai, who is quite smart.

Yes, it's Earth's Natural Internet, says David Suzuki. Through this internet, plants warn other plants of danger.

What danger? asks Mai-Mai.

Don't get him started, says Océane. Time is limited.

What's limited? asks Mai-Mai.

Mai-Mai! says her mother. Carl, can she play with your drum?

Oh no ......it's .... well yes, all right, if she doesn't take it out of my sight, says Carl Linnaeus.

The waiter appears with five cafés au lait and a glass of what looks like orange curdle.

Don't drink that dear, says Hui Zhong. It will give you a tummy ache.

Mai-Mai examines the drum, which is decorated with magical images.

The meeting begins.

Canada is sending a strong delegation to the Climate Talks, says David Suzuki. Here is our list of concerns.

He hands Océane a green manilla folder.

China too is sending a delegation, says Hui Zhong. We understand the need to limit global temperature rises to 2 degrees.

She hands Océane a red manilla folder.

As is Sweden, says Carl Linnaeus. Our snow is melting. The length of our snow season is predicted to shrink by 40 to 60 days by the end of the century.

That is good, says Océane. Have you got a manilla folder?

Somewhere, says Carl, undoing the scrimshawed reindeer antler buttons on the front his gakti.

He draws out a damp and malodorous blue manilla folder.

Just put it on the table, says Océane. Now Gaius, have you anything......?

Not officially, says Gaius. These days I reside in Australia........