Spinworld

Yami Yugi was sucked into a world of pitch-black darkness, and he felt as though he were falling down a pit with no end in sight. Even so, he was thinking of Yugi, and what Pegasus had done to him. The pharaoh felt so miserable, and recalled all the adventures he had spent with Yugi. And now they were over, just because Pegasus was able to play some super-powerful card that nobody on Earth could defeat…

Suddenly he landed. He supposed he had arrived at his destination, the "world" Pegasus had sent him to. There was a bank with neon lights in front of him, and a bland, fast food restaurant east of that. Yami also saw a campanile, or bell tower, behind the bank.

Walking toward the latter, he almost tripped over an advertisement lying on the ground. Yami picked it up, to see what kind of things were sold in this world.

Prevolo, the pain-creator that works!

Doctor-Approved!

Guaranteed to make you feel miserable,

Or your money back!

Oh, great, Yami thought. A way to make me feel worse. Sure I'd buy some.

He entered the bank, to see if he could find some human being, preferably one that reminded him of Tea, although he himself did not realize it. When she spoke to him outside Pegasus' castle, his deepest heart knew that there was no girl like her in all the world. But ostensibly he thought he was safe from all romantic desire.

Whatever he expected, it was not what he actually saw. Inside the bank were not people, but slim, gray things—their skin looked like blubber, and their ears were the same size as their heads, though attached. They all had alopecic pates, and the only clothing visible was a thin slip below their abdomens. Yami was startled and revolted at the same time.

One of them shouted, when he (or she or it) noticed Yami. "Security! Security! There's a Cright in here!"

All of a sudden, a loud brouhaha commenced. A Cright in this immaculate financial institution? Of all the profane events, this was certainly the most profane.

Three of the slim creatures grabbed Yami, and dragged him out by the hair. He was yelling in agony, but they paid no heed.

They released him once outside but the bank, but eight more of their ilk were called over.

"What's the situation?" asked one of the newcomers.

"This Cright walked headstrong into the Bank of Chimerica as if he owned the place. We must now decide his punishment."

"We could give him the peppermint birthday cake that was meant for the mayor," suggested one of the slim figures.

"We could force him to kiss the beautiful Caturenka, the rabbi's daughter."

"Or we could stone him to death!"

"I have an idea," said one of the more temerarious of the group. "The Cright can decide which of our three punishments he likes best."

"Are we in general assent that we will let the Cright choose what we will do to him, be it peppermint cake, a kiss, or death? All in favor say aye."

There were eleven "ayes."

They all turned to him. "Okay, Cright, it is up to you."

Yami deliberated between the three choices. The kiss sounded appealing, because the girl might be like Tea. Death didn't sound too horrible, because he was permanently separated from Yugi, and he already had enough of this world. But in the end he chose the birthday cake.

One of the eleven went to get it, because his punishment was that he had to eat it in their sight.

It was a fancy, three-layer cake. The top was strawberry-flavored, the middle vanilla, the bottom cherry. Yami was about to bring his first bite to his mouth, when there was a shout.

"Mr. Macaber! I've been looking everywhere for you; the meeting is about to start."

The speaker was a man of medium height, wearing a shirt with dinosaurs on it. He wore extra-dark sunglasses, and he was staring directly at Yami.

"You must come now," he said.

The bold slimmie stepped forward. "This Cright will not go with you until he's gone through his punishment."

"Nark, I know your Globular laws, and I'm sure Mr. Macaber has committed a grand offence, but if we don't hurry this instant, the school board will not permit us to put our two cents' worth into their plans."

"I'm not Mr. Macaber," Yami said, unwisely.

"You see, he denies that he is the person you're searching for."

"That's because he's just arrived, by ship. You are perfectly aware that the sea makes people amnesiac. He'll remember who he is by the time we get to the meeting."

"The sea doesn't have that memory loss on us Globulars."

"I know, Nark, but you're not a Cright. I tell you what: if you let Mr. Macaber come with me, he can return for his punishment later."

Nark knew that this meant he would never see "Mr. Macaber" again; nevertheless, he concurred.

On their way to their destination, Yami asked his rescuer what a Cright was, exactly.

"A Cright is a person who worships Michael Crichton," his amiable companion warmly informed him. "He was a man who lived and wrote seven hundred years ago. Among his novels are Jurassic Park, The Andromeda Strain, and Eaters of the Dead. We Crights believe him to be the most important author to have ever lived."

Yami had seen something about Jurassic Park whenever he was traipsing through Yugi's mind. He eyed his new friend's shirt. "But why did they assume I was a Cright, automatically?"

"Because of the way you appear. You are a human being, and wherever you're from, humans may control the world, but here, Globulars do."

"Globulars? You mean those slim, gray blubber people?"

"Exactly. Now, there is one other kind of human in this world besides Crights, and that is a member of the Lacrosse. But nobody from the Lacrosse would be caught anywhere near this town, for they are the lowest dregs on the social strata. If anyone ever calls you a Lacrosse, you should know that you have been highly insulted."

"Are the Lacrosse a useful part of this world?"

"The only thing a member of the Lacrosse can well is play chess. Never, ever accept a chess match against one of them. There is no possible way to win."

They approached a fork in the road. "We must go left," the Cright said.

In front of them was a dark alley. Crickets could be heard chirruping. At the end of the alley was the school.

"This is the Academy of Crichton Scholars. We train young kids to become masters of Crichton's language and imagery. But our subjects are so strange that you may find them frightening. The meeting we are going to is based on deciding what the academy's curriculum should include next year. Just vote the way I do and you'll be all right."

They entered the building, and went to the cafeteria. All of the walls were covered with red moss; the carpet was a beautiful jade-green.

There were seven men present at the board meeting, counting Yami and his rescuer.

"Oh, good, Mr. Macaber, you've come," said a burly man wearing a uniform that showed a parasite destroying the world.

Yami decided it was best to keep up the subterfuge; he might be singled out and condemned if he didn't.

The burly man stood up, and addressed the crew. "Now that we are all present, let's say the pledge of allegiance." They all rose and recited the following:

"I pledge allegiance to the Crighton, and to the Spinworld, which his spirit travels, aimlessly, tortuously, and ceaselessly. I swear unto all of Crighton's novels that I will be the best scholar of his works, despite the assiduity of all that have gone before me."

Everyone seated except the leader. "The meeting for the selection of next year's curriculum will commence abruptly," he said, slamming down his gavel.

One impetuous fellow, with yellow star-shaped earrings hanging on the side of his head, was the first to speak. "I opt to put Harry Potter on our list of subjects to teach."

"Harry Potter!" a svelte man with a broad chin and habiliments of a bright-orange hue ventured to exclaim. "But that will decrease the mental concentration of our students!"

"It will do no such thing!" the impetuous one quarreled. "Harry Potter is a science, which deserves to be read alongside Crichton. You know Crichton and Rowling were contemporaries. Or have you forgotten?"

"Their state as contemporaries has nothing to do with it! We might as well teach Stephen King or Dan Brown if it is to be based on that fact."

"I told you before, Mundungus, never to use the name 'Dan Brown' in my presence!" The orange-dressed man was not really named Mundungus, but that was what he was called whenever people were angry with him.

"Stop this bickering at once!" interposed the leader. "Let's let the board decide whether Harry Potter shall be included as a course for the 2727-2728 school year. All in favor, say aye."

There were five ayes. "Harry Potter is approved."

The impetuous one gloated; his opponent scowled.

Yami's friend spoke next. "I was wondering, Mr. Lapghass, whether the Lynch and Murderology courses should not be combined into one."

"Mr. Sniper, you know very well why. But if you must insist on knowing, I'll explain, for the pleasure of Mr. Macaber here. Murderology is the scientific and psychological study of the cause of murder, whereas Lynch teaches some how to kill. It is necessary to include both."

"Okay, then."

"Should we make trigonometry a mandatory class?" said a man whose hair was died blue, and wore blue from crest to trough. Even his skin was almost blue.

"Sir Thinkalot, I wouldn't advise that," said the leader. "In fact, I'm considering dropping the course altogether Besides, math serves no purpose in our young boy's lives."

"No! You can't do that!" Sir Thinkalot shouted, for he was in love with the trigonometry teacher, Miss Hortense Briggs.

The question first was raised whether trigonometry should become mandatory. There was one aye and six nays. Then the board was asked whether to keep math as a subject at the Academy. Again, there was only one aye.

Sir Thinkalot was so enraged at this result that he stormed out to have a cigarette. The meeting was adjourned for ten minutes, till Sir Thinkalot recovered his equanimity.

"Now, back to our discussion…"

After the meeting was over, Mr. Lapghass, the leader, called Yami over. "Mr. Macaber, I'm glad you had a safe ride from your country to our spincan. I hope you enjoy your post as Ornithology teacher at our Academy. Speaking of which, what do you think of peacocks?"

Mr. Lapghass' knowledge of birds was as deficit as Yami's. But he did the best he could to sound intelligent, though to himself he seemed pretentious.

Yami and Mr. Sniper were having a discussion. "What is the Spinworld?" Yami asked.

"This world we are in. It is called Spinworld because it does not move at all, as your Earth does."

"How do you know about Earth?"

"I come from there. I was sent here when I lost a duel with a witch."

"A duel? As in Duel Monsters?"

"No; I'm afraid not. I mean a wizard's duel, with wands and everything. I got my Ph.D. from Friurday, which is an American version of Hogwarts, which turns out to be a real place. We once had an international competion, some Quintwizard Tournament or something, judged by the Goblet of Fire. I was the champion for my school. Well, after I graduated, I got a little cocky. My niece, who was a year older than me and whom I was madly in love with, asked me to duel her. But she sent an Avada Kedavra curse my way, and so I died and came here."

"Have you ever heard of Duel Monsters?"

"Well, I have heard there was some such game several centuries ago, and that people played in giant stadiums with holographic images. But when the creator defeated some kid named Yugi Mutuo in a duel, the popularity of the game mitigated." At the sound of Yugi's name, Yami started. Mr. Sniper did not notice. "Nobody in my time has ever seen a Duel Monster card."

"Well, what is a spincan?"

"A spincan is a type of nation. But a spincan must have seventy forests, not one more or one less. Each spincan has a ruling seat. Here it is the Globular Anuzu. He has a bodyguard named Scallut, who is believed to have been a crocodile at one time. The story goes as follows:

"In the year 2249, one Easter Sunday, when trips to the zoo where popular on the day celebrating Christ's crucifixion, 160 people were eaten by a gavial. Following the principle of 'You are what you eat,' he turned into a human being. Supposedly Scallut is this legendary crocodile for his skin is slightly scaly and somewhat green."

"This world is full of strange things; I wonder if I shall ever be able to cope with it."

"Don't worry; it'll grow on you. It has done wonders for me," Mr. Sniper assured Yami.

The fall term had commenced, and Yami, known as Mr. Macaber to his students, taught them Ornithology, though he had to improvise by learning what he was teaching exactly one night before he actually did so. For instance, on the fourteenth of September he learned about flamingo diets, and he began teaching his pupils about the flamingo the ensuing day.

In mid-November, when Yami was weary of work, and thought he would be happy if he never had to see or hear of birds again, heard a knock on his door. "Come in," he said.

The man who had objected to teaching Harry Potter at the Academy entered. "Mr. Macaber, I have discovered something of your past. You believe yourself to be a five-thousand-year-old pharaoh. Well, I have come to tell you that you are sadly mistaken. You are really a Lacrosse."

Even though Yami could not recall why, this assertion made his blood boil. "How dare you slight me, Mundungus!"

"Good. You know enough to realize what a Lacrosse is. But I'll tell you what? Why don't you meet the Lacrosse for yourself?"

The schoolroom they were in vanished in a flash, and presently Yami and his colleague were on a small island. There was a mango tree, and a table, but no other living creatures.

"Where are they? I don't see any Lacrosse."

"New to the spinworld, aren't you, Mr. Pharaoh? Look down."

Yami did so, and saw five holes. And out of these apertures came muddy hands, then muddy mugs, then bodies made of cement. "Behold, the Lacrosse!"

"Did Mr. Zillbance bring present?" asked one of the Lacrosse, in a language incomprehensible to the Pharaoh.

"Yes. Big present. One of own," Mundungus said, his eyes turning to Yami.

"Doesn't look like kin. Could Mr. Zillbance be mistake?"

"No, no mistake, I assure you. He is kin. You must defeat him at chess to see."

"Bropwn! Easy task!" the Lacrosse exclaimed, clapping their hands and grinning maliciously.

"Okay, Mr. Macaber," Mundungus said, now in English. "If you can defeat the Lacrosse at chess, you will prove to me that you are a Pharaoh. However, if you fail to do so, you will lose your humanity and become a Lacrosse. Now I throw down the gauntlet. Will you accept it?"

"Mundungus, I accept your challenge."

"I expected as much. You are the King of Games after all, or were at one time."