So I was sitting in class one day, staring out the windows at the volcanos that constantly oozed magma and steam but never really erupted—holdovers from the time when this Icon World and everything in it was created by tech geniuses who wanted to super-charge the reality of everyday existence. Too bad the tech gods couldn’t figure out a way to make school less boring.
That was why, every day, I found myself half listening to the teacher—catching key words here and there—and half scribbling in my Notebook, which was really my Creation Book in disguise. It’s not that I didn’t like to learn. In fact, I quite enjoyed it. It’s just that the teachers believed the world was like a string of pearls where this, leads to this, leads to this, while I saw the world as a bunch of scattered gems where this over here, goes with that over there. My way of viewing things meant that the universe could be connected in all sorts of unique and interesting ways. This didn’t have to go with that today, but it could tomorrow. The possibilities were endless.
Thus my habit of jotting down key words. I may not have been learning what the teacher was trying to get across, but it provided my mind with fodder to do its own research, which I did while the teacher was drone-a-tone-toning, via my connection to the Celestial Warehouse, that cloudy web, where all of the information in the known universe is stored.
Which is what I was doing that day when I was staring out the window watching the volcanoes in the distance. The teacher was talking about a revolution on one planet or another in a century I didn’t bother to write down, but the word revolution did catch my attention so I wrote it down. Now, it just so happens, I had already done my morning research on obscure holidays and famous birthdays of the day—it’s a freak fascination—and from this research I had written down the factoid that it was Darwin’s birthday—Darwin being the most famous of the evolutionists. So, now I had two “key” words written down on the pages of my Notebook that were destined to be together:
Of course, my mind immediately homed in on the concept that I believed both words shared, and I wrote this word down too:
Change had been on my mind a lot at that time. It was my last year of high school, and things were changing all around me; my family life had changed, my friends and school mates were getting ready to go off to college, go into the military or get married. I was just trying to make it to graduation, which was a change from my usual stellar-academic, socially-delinquent act I was known for. My grades were terrible, I admit, but at least I was still trying to show up for school.
I couldn’t help it. The little creatures that I had been creating with my sister Poppy for the last few years were not only causing chaos with their antics but affecting the very clockwork that kept the iconville of Cratersville ticking. I enlisted the two Blues (my best friends Blueberry and Bluesy) to keep things manageable, but it wouldn’t stop the CATACLYSMIC change that I knew was barreling straight towards us all. Yeah, I know I over-dramatized that last part a bit there, but if you knew the good folks of Cratersville, like I knew the good folks of Cratersville, you would understand my histrionics. Cratersvillians didn’t like change, but change was what they were about to get in spades (and hearts and diamonds and jokers).
Cratersville was a town built on decorum, as all of the iconvilles were, and the little creatures were about to reset everything in a very big way. This was their purpose. Who better to reset the rules of decorum than those who were created outside its strictures? I had been preparing the denizens of Cratersville for this eventuality in my own unique way. I pushed the envelope where I could, as much as I could, without being prematurely ejected from town before my next gig showed up. It’s not that I was intentionally breaking the rules, per se, I was just being me, and I didn’t see what the big deal was most of the time.
I spent the rest of that week thinking about the little creatures and change while the concepts of revolution and evolution pinged around in my head like the incessant ticking of an annoying clock. Then Friday night the clock struck midnight and the pieces in my mind clicked together into a singular gem of crystal clarity. The change I knew was coming wouldn’t succeed unless my friends evolved and became Agents of the Magic’s revolution themselves. This was tricky since my friends weren’t free of the decorum’s “enchantment”—not yet, not entirely.
When Saturday finally rolled around, the two Blues (my best friends Bluesy and Blueberry) suggested we go to a movie later that night. They were thinking of a science fiction flick at the local drive-in—the usual fair. I, in my sneaky fashion, suggested something a little more scandalous—at least as far as the decorum of a 50’s era iconville like Cratersville was concerned.
“We really shouldn’t be here,” Bluesy said.
“Of course, we should be here,” I said. “This is perfectly normal activity for this era.”
We were standing in line for a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. We were dressed in jeans and t-shirts as was befitting for the 70’s era iconville where we had spent the afternoon. This was not the expected attire when going to see this particular movie, which was why Bluesy was just a bit antsy. I could have warned her ahead of time, but I feared she would have chickened out. Blueberry was not as shockable, though the sight of guys wearing fishnets was blowing his mind a bit. None of it fazed me. My parents were just too avant-garde to keep me cloistered from the decorum of other eras.
We had a blast at the movie. Even Bluesy got into it once it got going. On the way home Bluesy commented about missing curfew though her usual worry over this fact was nowhere to be heard. Perhaps she realized that change sometimes meant breaking the rules.
That night as I sat in bed, I took out my Notebook and put the final touches on a drawing I had been working on all week. I was looking for an edgy touch for the little creature I had been creating and “fishnets” proved to be the answer I was looking for.
I entered the closing symbols that would make my creation real and said a silent prayer that my newest little creature wouldn’t show up in town—at least not any time soon. There wasn’t enough smelling salts to revive everyone if it did, plus everyone would come looking for you-know-who, and I would hate to have to explain how a little illicit adventure with my friends to see a decorum-breaching show ended up debauching half the town. Talk about heads rolling.
Let the rEvolution begin!
—Jellybean Reds, Creator of Little Creatures
Comments from Little Creatures and Others:
Bluesy: I say we should go in costume next time.
Blueberry: Who do you mean by “we”?