38: Numbers and Names and things in between.
"1+0+2+3+5+-" *scrible scrible* *pause. heavy breathing.* The numbers formed themselves over and over again. The walrus hands kept spinning webs of truth, trying to find expression. He was lost in his own world of mathematical expressions. All he heard was the constant rhythm of his pencil, and the sweet song of numbers.
"What are you writing?" A small voice said. Rotor might not have heard it if it was loud, because he had learned to tune out the constant shouts and sounds of war, while he worked as a strategist for the Resistance. But the sound was quiet, and small enough that it slipped past the line of the walrus' focused attention. Rotor looked up, and then looked down, for that was where the sound came from.
"Um, Queen Acorn. I'm writin ekwashins, just foolin around really." he said, and shrugged sheepishly. The tiny Queen looked intently into Rotor's eyes. "You seem very focused to only be fooling around." She squeaked. "Me thinks you're playing a 'lusus serius' my friend. A serious game." The Queen stared buggishly into the aging walrus' young eyes, trying to intimidate him. Rotor shuffled his rumpkins awkwardly, knowing he had been found out. "Well, au, yis yer majustee. Id be tryin ta bring Toad back inta our world." The Queen nodded, and grinned, happy to have forced Rotor into telling her. "And how can you do that by writing numbers?" she asked. "well, ya see yer majistee, numbers and math are the only great truths in the world." Robald rubbed his paws togther, warming to the subject. "You made my day." He muttered. "That was Kwan." Queeny tilted her head, confused. "Um, heh. But yeah. Math can do stuff. 2+2 is always 4. it's the language of the universe. And when ya know how ta form words rightly, you can jiggle em around n different ways, and make other things. Names and words and worlds. Ya see, the universe is like one single, long word being spoken throughout all of eternity, repeated in different ways to form new things. We can't hear the end of that word until it finishes speakin, but when ya know how it's talked, you can jiggle the syllables around a bit. And move one part of tha word to a different place. Or, if there is another word bein spoke, ya can bring one part of that word into tha middle of tha other. So, I tend ta bring Toad back, by jigglin the words of tha world he's trapped in, and make em back ta ours. See?" During the walrus' long jumbbled speech, the Queen Bee's eyes slowly started turning in circles and unmashing her re-fried brains. She didn't hear most of what Robot said, but she heard enough. "THEN TURN ME BACK TO WHAT I ONCE WAS." She demanded. "Huh?" the robly routed walrus asked, not understanding. For he was less educated than his thoughts. "I wasn't always like I am now." The queen said, nodding at her tiny, human form. "I was once a beautiful giraffe, with the stars of the heavens draped over my back as my clothes. The earth was my footstool, and the Soul of the World was my song. If numbers are so powerful, then write me some, Rotor. Write me back to what I was. Write my name in the Language of the Universe."
Robber nubbled twice. Once for power, and half a time for luck. The other half was for things to come. "Well, um, shur, o'course queeny." But then his eyes grew small and his brain smaller, his stomach got the best of him, and demanded expression. "But, iffin I do this, I need somit ta make it worth mah while." He grinned so evilly. The queen slapped him. "I AM YOUR QUEEN." He nodded, deflated. "But, it's tough. It doesn't always work..." the queen norded. "Fair enough. If you do this for me, I shall do something for you in return. I will fix your name in the heavens, so it doesn't shift and change like so much water. It will be sturdy like rock, and you won't have to wonder who you are anymore. Your name shall be solid, stable. And so will you."
Robler inhaled, and held it. Then he nodded. It was a real nod this time. "Very well." And that was all. He started scribbling again.
"1+0+2+3+5+-" *scrible scrible* *pause. heavy breathing.*