23.

A PLATE OF BLACK AND GREEN.

"Come on now, Edgar-you can't imagine how good the food is down here. And there's water-as much as you like! There's only me and Vincent to use it, so we have more than we could ever drink. How does that sound?"

Needless to say, it all sounded very good to Edgar. When they arrived outside, Dr. Kincaid wasted no time in getting them settled at a table. Edgar had never seen dark wood like what had been used to make the table and chairs, and Dr. Kincaid picked up on his curiosity.

"It's not like what you're used to," he offered, not sure how or when to explain all of the newness and strangeness of the lowest world of Atherton. "You will find there are a few other oddities in the Flatlands that I can clarify for you, but it's perhaps not the best place to start our conversation."

Dr. Kincaid followed Edgar's gaze to the cliffs beyond, which rose high into the air.

"I always take my breakfast outside, where I can look and wonder about all that's happening up there."

The table and chairs stood on a flat surface surrounded by huge rocks-each at least the size of Mr. Ratikan's house-which towered around Edgar like misshapen eggs tipping into the sky this way and that. He could see through the gaps between these boulders, as if a lopsided stone fence had been put there by giants without much care. A pathway led around the ma.s.s of rocks and over the edge, for Dr. Kincaid's home was high off the ground. Behind them the entrance to his cave looked dark now, as if it were sleeping and wanted to be left alone.

A bowl filled with water sat in the middle of the table, and two big wooden cups were placed in front of Edgar and Dr. Kincaid. Edgar began by sipping the water. It was wonderful-so cold and clean and plentiful. It instantly awakened all of his senses. He gulped, slurped, and even put his finger inside the cup, swish ing it around luxuriously. He entertained himself this way for a while-Edgar lost in a dream of water-until he was surprised to find the cup empty, and he returned his attention to Dr. Kincaid.

There was a tangled mess of questions brewing uncontrolled inside Edgar's head, and it was difficult to know where to begin. Dr. Kincaid seemed to be having the same problem as he reached across the table and dipped Edgar's cup in the bowl, setting it back down in front of the boy.

"I suppose I should tell you how I got here and why I came," said Edgar hesitantly. "It started with a memory I had of something hidden in the cliffs, something I had tried to find for a long time."

"The notebook I left for you!" said Dr. Kincaid. "You remembered our little conversation and retrieved it when it came to you, just as I'd hoped."

Dr. Kincaid was feeling rather proud of himself at that moment, and then realized the implications. "So then it's true, the Highlands have moved down?"

Edgar nodded. "They have, but I found the book before that. I climbed up the cliffs every day, searching for it."

This information was like a blow to the head for Dr. Luther Kincaid. He had never imagined the boy would risk his life to find the book he'd hidden.

"So you climbed up and got the book, then you climbed down here?"

"First I had to climb into the Highlands to find someone who could read it to me. Then I came down here to find the second book of secret things."

Dr. Kincaid was devastated. He had sent a mere child down a treacherous path. "I expected you to wait for Atherton to come to you, not for you to go to Atherton! When the Highlands came down-it was then that you were to find the notebook hidden where the symbol was, not before. Hiding that book was a foolish whim to begin with. I see now it was a terrible mistake to have left it for you...."

Dr. Kincaid's voice trailed off and he rubbed his big earlobe between his thumb and finger.

"I brought you to Atherton because I care about you, Edgar, and because it was the safest place for you. I've never stopped thinking about you while we've been apart, and I've always known that someday we would reunite. I just never thought it would be so soon."

"What about the second book of secrets? Do you have it?" asked Edgar.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about. I made no mention of such a thing."

Edgar pulled the last page of the book out of his front pocket. It was crumpled and torn but legible.

"But it says right there!" Edgar insisted. "That's why I came-there's another secret book down here. You must have forgotten...."

Dr. Kincaid took the page from Edgar and flattened it against his knee. He examined it carefully and then handed it back to Edgar.

"You see there!" said Edgar. "It's why I came-to get the book."

Dr. Kincaid knew that what he was about to say might harm the boy, and he hesitated to tell him.

"Edgar, who read that page to you?"

"Why do you ask?" It had never occurred to Edgar that the man at the inn might have lied to him.

"I'm sorry," said Dr. Kincaid. "I never would have brought you down here in search of a book. It's far too dangerous. I can scarcely believe you made a go of it. But you should be very proud of yourself! You did something I didn't think anyone could ever do-nor did Dr. Harding! You climbed down. You found me!"

Dr. Kincaid smiled at the boy and waved his hand through the air. "Anyway, I'm full of secrets. I'll tell them all to you. We have all the time in the world now that we're together."

Edgar was stunned. He'd banished himself to the Flatlands forever and had lost a finger in the process. He would never see the grove again, nor Isabel or Samuel, Briney or Maude. Tears welled up again in his eyes.

"What does the page say?"

Dr. Kincaid had been thinking all the while about a good answer, and he'd come up with the best response he felt he could offer.

"I promise you, Edgar, you shall know what the page says. But please trust me-it will be better if we wait a little longer. I believe it will be better if I show you what the page said, and I can't do that just yet."

Edgar wiped the tears from his eyes. Letting himself cry had actually made him feel better, and it crossed his mind that things could have been a lot worse. He might have lost his entire arm in the fall or ended up in the mouth of one of those nasty creatures. And he was talking to the man who'd written the book for him. In many ways the journey he'd begun so long ago had come to a good end.

He sniffed and rubbed his nose with the sling, then asked the question he'd been afraid to ask until this moment. "Dr. Kincaid, are you my father?"

Dr. Kincaid knew the question was bound to arise, but hearing it now didn't make it any easier to answer.

"I'm afraid not, Edgar," he said. "But I have tried to act as a father would. I know it seems as though I've put you in enormous danger, but you have to believe me when I tell you it was not my intention. I only wanted to protect you. You were safer in the care of Mr. Ratikan in the grove than you would have been here in the Flatlands with Cleaners at every turn. I had hoped to solve the Cleaner problem by now, but my efforts to control them have failed. I'm sorry, Edgar."

Edgar saw how regretful the old man was. It was true that the hidden book had unintentionally sent Edgar on a perilous journey, but to his great surprise, Edgar was beginning to feel a growing comfort with Dr. Kincaid and a certain contentment with these twists of fate.

"No one else can climb like I do," boasted Edgar. "I'm the only one."

This seemed to revive Dr. Kincaid, and he prodded Edgar to go on.

"If you hadn't left the book, I would have spent all my life in the grove, tormented by Mr. Ratikan. I love to climb. I would go straight to the wall and do it right now if not for those creatures and this," said Edgar, giving his own hand a wistful glance. "It was an odd gift you gave me, and it didn't get used the way you might have thought it would, but it has given me an adventure others could only dream of."

A smile of relief spread across Dr. Kincaid's face, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. Edgar told him what had happened in the world above, and the old man listened with enormous interest. He told of Lord Phineus, the bag of poison, the grove, the Village of Rabbits, and on and on until his memory met with the second book of secrets-at which point Vincent came up the path carrying a tray.

"Ahhh-here's our breakfast, then," remarked Dr. Kincaid. "I think you're going to enjoy this very much."

"Getting acquainted, are we?" asked Vincent as he set on the table two plates covered with pieces of cloth. Vincent turned to Dr. Kincaid.

"I see you haven't told him yet," he said.

"Told me what?" asked Edgar.

Dr. Kincaid glared at Vincent but spoke to him in the way old friends do when they share a secret.

"Don't you have some hunting to do? It's getting aw fully late."

Vincent smiled knowingly at Dr. Kincaid and went into the cave. When he emerged there were two spears on his back.

"I'll be back before nightfall, as I'm not killing anything today. There was plenty of that last night."

When Vincent was gone, Dr. Kincaid rubbed his hands together with antic.i.p.ation and theatrically unveiled both plates.

There were two items on the plate in front of Edgar. One was something black and meaty, but he knew it wasn't rabbit or mutton. The other was a chunky green pudding that looked a lot like something Edgar had seen blown out of noses when people had gotten sick after the third-year trees hadn't been cut down in time.

Dr. Kincaid picked up the meat on his own plate with his bare hand and dipped it into the green pudding. He raised it toward Edgar as one might ready to toast with a cup, and then he took a bite so big that Edgar was certain the old man would choke on it. By the time Dr. Kincaid had swallowed most of the food, Edgar still hadn't moved.

"Eat up, Edgar. I'm quite sure you'll enjoy it," he said through a mouthful of gooey food, which only served to increase Edgar's distaste for the meal before him.

But Edgar couldn't remember when he'd been so hungry, which was no small thing, since he'd been hungry almost every day of his life. Hesitantly he picked up the meat and started to put it in his mouth.

Dr. Kincaid made a disapproving sound and scowled, showing Edgar that he should first dip it in the green pudding.

"I call it Black and Green for a reason," he said. "The two go perfectly together and it would be a shame to eat them separately."

Edgar was about to ask what Black and Green was made of, but something told him that he might be better off not knowing. He followed Dr. Kincaid's lead, dipping the meat into the pudding, and found that Black and Green was indeed very tasty. It was salty and sweet at the same time, and it filled him up unlike anything he'd ever eaten.

Now that the boy was enjoying a plate of Black and Green, Dr. Kincaid knew there was nothing else to do but begin telling Edgar about the world he lived in. It was difficult at first, because Dr. Kincaid could only use words and concepts that simply made no sense to Edgar at all: microscience, biomechanics, DNA, metal and machines. It was as though Dr. Kincaid spoke a differ ent language, and Edgar leaned back in his chair, exasperated.

"This meat is very good," commented Edgar as he swallowed the last bite, not having understood a word Dr. Kincaid had said. "Where does it come from?"

"It comes from the Cleaners, those beasts that almost ate you last night."

Edgar laughed nervously, which so delighted Dr. Kincaid that he continued on the topic.

"The Cleaners are remarkable creatures, really. They are but one invention of the mind that created Atherton."

"Did you create Atherton?" asked Edgar. Luther smiled wryly.

"I'm afraid not. This world is far too complicated even for me to wholly understand." Dr. Kincaid was about to start explaining the origin of Atherton in scientific terms, but he was able to stop himself.

Must keep this simple so that he will understand. Must not scare the boy.

"Let me say it this way, Edgar. You weren't born on Atherton. You were born someplace else. Where that place is doesn't really matter because you can't ever go back there-and I can a.s.sure you, you wouldn't want to. While I may not be your father, I am your guardian, and I wouldn't agree to come to Atherton unless you were allowed to live here with me."

"I don't understand," said Edgar, which was something he felt he would be saying quite a bit when listening to Dr. Kincaid.

"Where you come from, there are almost no trees. Can you even imagine a place so unlike the grove? The air is filthy, nearly impossible to breathe. A person can live where you come from-lots of people do-but it's not the beautiful world it used to be. If you must know, it's called the Dark Planet, and it's closer than you think."

"But how did I get here? How did anyone get here? And why don't I remember my life before Atherton?"

Again Dr. Kincaid slipped into speaking in terms Edgar couldn't understand. He lectured about computers and machines and something called the third wave, until Edgar shook his head. Science, skysc.r.a.pers, televisions, cars, pollution-all of it was lost on the boy. It made the divide seem impa.s.sable to poor Dr. Kincaid.

"Try again," suggested Edgar. "And pretend you're a boy like me. Maybe that will help."

Dr. Kincaid pondered this approach a moment before he continued.

"There came a time on the Dark Planet when I and a group of other scientists-those are people who try to solve problems-had the idea of building a new place where people could live. We worked on it for a long time and found ourselves going in circles, not getting anywhere. But then we found someone who could help us."

He took a drink from his cup and dipped it back into the bowl.

"There was a boy, Edgar, a very smart little boy who was an orphan just like you. His name was Max." Edgar recognized that this was probably part of the story that Samuel had begun to read to him in the book of secret things.

Dr. Kincaid seemed to light up at the thought of this other boy, but Edgar felt a little sting of remorse. He realized then that he was an orphan of not just one, but two worlds.

"We all called him Max at first," continued Dr. Kincaid. "But very soon we were in the habit of calling him Dr. Harding."

"You mean as a joke? To make him feel a part of things?"

"No, I mean he was a lot better at fixing and making things than the rest of us were."

Dr. Kincaid was getting better at speaking in terms Edgar could understand.

"What did Max do that was so special?" asked Edgar.

"To be fair, by the time he was twenty none of us really understood all of what he was working on."

Dr. Kincaid wanted the boy to know how that could be possible, and he struck upon an idea that might make it clearer.

"There is a thing on the Dark Planet called an airplane. Do you know what that is, Edgar?"

Edgar thought for a moment that he might know, but then he drew a blank. He shook his head.

"An airplane is a man-made thing that can carry you around in the air. But it's a complicated machine, very complicated, and many are far bigger than these rocks towering around us. It takes hundreds of people to put one together. Everyone works on a small part but n.o.body makes the whole thing. They each learn about the one part they are building, but they can't know how to build the entire airplane. It would be too much information for a single person to understand all at once."

Dr. Kincaid wasn't sure if he'd lost the boy, but he thought he was doing all right, and so he continued.

"Now, Edgar, imagine something a lot more complicated than an airplane, so complicated in fact that it would involve thousands of different kinds of smart people doing extraordinary things all at the same time. And now try to imagine one person who designed it all, who created it completely in his mind by the age of thirty. If you can imagine such a person, then you have come closer to knowing why we took to calling Max by the name of Dr. Harding."

"So Dr. Harding created Atherton, is that it?"

"In the simplest terms, yes. But there were... complications."

"What sort of complications?"