Mike Resnick - The Land of Nod

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The Land of Nod

express permission of the author.

Once, many years ago, there was a Kikuyu warrior who left his

village and wandered off in search of adventure. Armed only with a

spear, he slew the mighty lion and the cunning leopard. Then one

day he came upon an elephant. He realized that his spear was

useless against such a beast, but before he could back away or

find cover, the elephant charged.

His only hope was divine intervention, and he begged Ngai,

who rules the universe from His throne atop Kirinyaga, the holy

mountain that men now call Mount Kenya, to find him and pluck him

from the path of the elephant.

But Ngai did not respond, and the elephant picked the warrior

up with its trunk and hurled him high into the air, and he landed

in a distant thorn tree. His skin was badly torn by the thorns,

but at least he was safe, since he was on a branch some twenty

feet above the ground.

After he was sure the elephant had left the area, the warrior

climbed down. Then he returned home and ascended the holy mountain

to confront Ngai.

"What is it that you want of me?" asked Ngai, when the

warrior had reached the summit.

"I want to know why you did not come," said the warrior

angrily. "All my life I have worshiped you and paid tribute to

you. Did you not hear me ask for your help?"

"I heard you," answered Ngai.

"Then why did you not come to my aid?" demanded the warrior.

"Are you so lacking in godly powers that you could not find me?"

"After all these years you still do not understand," said

Ngai sternly. "It is _you_ who must search for _me_."

* * *

My son Edward picked me up at the police station on Biashara

Street just after midnight. The sleek British vehicle hovered a

few inches above the ground while I got in, and then his chauffeur

began taking us back to his house in the Ngong Hills.

"This is becoming tedious," he said, activating the

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shimmering privacy barrier so that we could not be overheard.

He tried to present a judicial calm, but I knew he was furious.

"You would think they would tire of it," I agreed.

"We must have a serious talk," he said. "You have been back

only two months, and this is the fourth time I have had to bail

you out of jail."

"I have broken no Kikuyu laws," I said calmly, as we raced

through the dark, ominous slums of Nairobi on our way to the

affluent suburbs.

"You have broken the laws of Kenya," he said. "And like it or

not, that is where you now live. I'm an official in the

government, and I will not have you constantly embarrassing me!"

He paused, struggling with his temper. "Look at you! I have

offered to buy you a new wardrobe. Why must you wear that ugly old

_kikoi_? It smells even worse than it looks."

"Is there now a law against dressing like a Kikuyu?" I asked

him.

"No," he said, as he commanded the miniature bar to appear

from beneath the floor and poured himself a drink. "But there _is_

a law against creating a disturbance in a restaurant."

"I paid for my meal," I noted, as we turned onto Langata Road

and headed out for the suburbs. "In the Kenya shillings that you

gave me."

"That does not give you the right to hurl your food against

the wall, simply because it is not cooked to your taste." He

glared at me, barely able to contain his anger. "You're getting

worse with each offense. If I had been anyone else, you'd have

spent the night in jail. As it is, I had to agree to pay for the

damage you caused."

"It was eland," I explained. "The Kikuyu do not eat game

animals."

"It was _not_ eland," he said, setting his glass down and

lighting a smokeless cigarette. "The last eland died in a German

zoo a year after you left for Kirinyaga. It was a modified soybean

product, genetically enhanced to _taste_ like eland." He paused,

then sighed deeply. "If you thought it was eland, why did you

order it?"

"The server said it was steak. I assumed he meant the meat of

a cow or an ox."

"This has got to stop," said Edward. "We are two grown men.

Why can't we reach an accomodation?" He stared at me for a long

time. "I can deal with rational men who disagree with me. I do it

at Government House every day. But I cannot deal with a fanatic."

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"I am a rational man," I said.

"Are you?" he demanded. "Yesterday you showed my wife's

nephew how to apply the _githani_ test for truthfulness, and he

practically burned his brother's tongue off."

"His brother was lying," I said calmly. "He who lies faces

the red-hot blade with a dry mouth, whereas he who has nothing to

fear has enough moisture on his tongue so that he cannot be

burned."

"Try telling a seven-year-old boy that he has nothing to fear

when he's being approached by a sadistic older brother who is

brandishing a red-hot knife!" snapped my son.

A uniformed watchman waved us through to the private road

where my son lived, and when we reached our driveway the chauffeur

pulled our British vehicle up to the edge of the force field. It

identified us and vanished long enough for us to pass through, and

soon we came to the front door.

Edward got out of the vehicle and approached his residence

as I followed him. He clenched his fists in a physical effort to

restrain his anger. "I agreed to let you live with us, because you

are an old man who was thrown off his world-- "

"I left Kirinyaga of my own volition," I interrupted calmly.

"It makes no difference why or how you left," said my son.

"What matters is that you are _here_ now. You are a very old man.

It has been many years since you have lived on Earth. All of your

friends are dead. My mother is dead. I am your son, and I will

accept my responsibilities, but you _must_ meet me halfway."

"I am trying to," I said.

"I doubt it."

"I am," I repeated. "You own son understands that, even if

you do not."

"My own son has had quite enough to cope with since my

divorce and remarriage. The last thing he needs is a grandfather

filling his head with wild tales of some Kikuyu Utopia."

"It is a failed Utopia," I corrected him. "They would not

listen to me, and so they are doomed to become another Kenya."

"What is so wrong with that?" said Edward. "Kenya is my home,

and I am proud of it." He paused and stared at me. "And now it is

_your_ home again. You must speak of it with more respect."

"I lived in Kenya for many years before I emigrated to

Kirinyaga," I said. "I can live here again. Nothing has changed."

"That is not so," said my son. "We have built a transport

system beneath Nairobi, and there is now a spaceport at Watamu on

the coast. We have closed down the nuclear plants; our power is

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Mike Resnick - The Land of Nod

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