He did not know how he got there; one minute he and his brothers were playing in the mad scientist’s lab, the next, he was tumbling through a tunnel of white pulsating light speckled with dots of light of different colours.
He knew he was in trouble.
His father had warned he and his brothers severally to stay away from the lab, but his curiosity seduced him and blocked his fathers words out.
And now he was in trouble.
He looked around him, all green and brown with juicy looking oranges and reds. Brown leaves fell off his asbestos shirt as he stood up, giving a crunching sound. He picked the leaves in his hands and squeezed
The sound reverberated through the forest as the leaves disintegrated into tiny pieces that danced in the wind, he smiled. He liked the sound and feel of the dry leaves. He found it fascinating.
He walked down the forest floor staring at the tall browns with scattered greens atop them. The juicy oranges and red triggered feelings in him he rarely felt.
He looked at the sun, it was so much smaller here. Here. Where was here?
A white fluffy creature ran across his path and stopped and stared at him. He also stared back. It was so beautiful. His tiny heart swelled as he reached to touch it, but the creature ran off.
The sun was too far off to produce the adequate amount of energy he required. On his planet, they rarely ate. Only once in a while, and then it was for pleasure. You see He is from Matachi, known to we humans as Venus.
He is Matoo. Matoo Bishanicola.
He is the height of a ten year old boy with hard, red leathery skin; covered with fine wrinkles which formed exquisitely beautiful patterns. His red skin had green blotches, chlorophyll, that is where photo synthesis occurred. His eyes were large, twice as large as the eyes of an average human. He had no nose and his mouth was a thin red line.
He heard footsteps and hid behind a tree. A man with a woman carrying a child on her back and holding the hands of another walked past. Barlabians. Humans. He recognised them from the drawings. He had learnt about them at the citadel of learning.
“Mama, I’m not a child anymore; papa says I’m a little man, you do not have to hold my hands”
The woman looked clearly tired with beads of sweat dotting her forehead. Yet she still smiled as she replied her son.
“You will always be my little boy”
“Tufia”; said the boy spitting ” I don’t want to be a boy forever!”
His mother laughed realising his hand, “now don’t run too far”
The father also laughed as the boy walked gallantly.
Matoo was not interested in them, or what they had to say. Only one thing held his attention right there.
The white blob the boy spat out that contained cells. Cells that had the boy’s genetic makeup. When he could no longer hear their voices and footsteps. He came out to the footpath and walked towards the place the boy had spat. The saliva was half dried. He touched it and was able to register the boy’s DNA. The special thing about Matachians are their ability to alter their DNA without external mutagens. Soon a replica of the boy who just walked past was standing where Matoo had stood.
He stared at his new skin and hands, no green patches. No chlorophyll. Meaning he had to source for energy outside. He wondered how they lived that way, but he could not complain as he needed to to blend in. There was also something else he needed to do.
Very far away from the boy. Staying around would cause too much confusion. So he walked and walked and walked. For many days. The juicy oranges and reds where what he used to sustain himself. To generate ATP-Adenosine Triphosphate. Energy.
——————————————-Tola carried the round play thing with joy in his hands as he half ran to the village play square. He had formed it by squeezing leaves together and fastening them with the stringy stem of a yam plant. The result? a round green object that he and his brother had kicked back and forth. They had immensely enjoyed doing that.
Now he carried it with glee to the village square, where he hoped it would help garner him some popularity with the local kids.
He had no friends; he was smaller than most boys his age group and loved to daydream and play with words.
By the standard of his playmates. So they made fun of him. A lot, and called him names, but now, this baby in his hands was going to change all of that.
He arrived there and found the boys chattering and playing with stones.
As soon as they saw him, they started jeering.
“Duh duh mu ti de”
They all laughed.
He ignored them and played around with the object. The boys watched him curiously. He knowingly kicked it towards one of the boys. The boys stared down at it and kicked it back to him. That was how the frenzy started. Soon they were all kicking the object and screaming with glee.
Suddenly, a boy stepped in and stopped the ball with his foot. Then stomped hard on it
“No-“; Tola cried, reaching to stop him
Only too late.
The boy had an evil smirk on his face
“He is still a duh duh mu”
All the boys laughed and threw sand at Tola as he sat in the dust with tears running down his chin. Tears mingled with dust forming patterns on his skin.
Then he heard someone behind him speak.
“Tsk tsk tsk. If only you Barlabians are as picky with your words, as you are with your food, life would be so much better”
He turned to look at the speaker…