Doomed to Disappear

Javardh in Unsplash

Trib peered into the depths of the container. A thin film was all that was left, not even sufficient to make it until tomorrow. He sighed — it was that time again. Grudgingly, he kitted himself and started trudging up the slope. He toiled up the steep incline, nimbly side-stepping the various loose stones that would’ve sent him to certain oblivion. After four hours, he finally reached the top and peered down into the crater.

A sea of green greeted him. Trib rubbed his eyes and looked again; but it was no dream. There was nothing but green. He squinted, trying vainly to find the tiniest hint of glimmer. Nothing.

Maybe they’re hiding or gone hunting, he thought. He clambered down and starting walking around, trying to find flattened grass or swathes of glassy rock. They can’t all have gone hunting, he thought as fear strangled his heart. He called out, “Hello! Is anyone there?”

Echoes answered him happily, but other sounds eluded him. Fear made way for desperation; he struck at the foliage, at the rocks; Maybe something will be dislodged.

As he walked around, he spied a small cave. Eureka!

He lit a taper and walked in gingerly. A few metres in and a tell-tale glimmer painted the walls. Trib blew out his taper and walked slowly forward, head dipped, eyes focused on the ground. The glow became brighter with each step.

Soon, he came face to face with the source — the splendid, blinding sight of a full grown dragon.

Trib bowed low. “My lord. I apologise for intruding upon your place of rest. I am Trib, sandmaster for the dimension called Earth. I come to sweep your floors.”

The dragon sniffed superciliously and nodded. A gravelly voice boomed inside his head. “Hmmm. I thought you gone. Very well. Sweep.”

Trib bowed even lower. “Thank you, my lord.”

He retrieved his broom from his pack and started sweeping up the glittering sand that had collected on the cave floor. The sand, composed of discarded dragon scales and skin, coruscated, putting rainbows to shame.

Even what they discard is spectacular, thought Trib. Dragons, unlike most other species, could not recycle the parts of their body, so they shed them in pieces from their skin. The pieces, shredded by their razor sharp scales and pulverised by the the iron-hard armour and weight of the dragon pounding the sheddings into the ground, soon formed a fine sand. In earlier times, before the sandmasters had discovered the sand’s properties, the dragons had just blown it away, but now, they’d gotten used to having their floors swept and let the sand build up.

Thankful to have a clean bed, the dragon moved obligingly out of Trib’s way as he swept. Within minutes, he’d collected a small mound of sand.

Trib bagged his sweepings; bowed low once again to the dragon. “Thank you my lord.”

The dragon nodded. Trib hesitated. The dragon took no notice.

Haltingly, Trib said, “My lord.”

“You’re still here?”

“If I may, my lord, may I ask after your family and friends? I’ve had the great fortune to meet many of them, but today, my luck seems to have deserted me.”

“Them? They’re gone.”

Shock erased any deference Trib had shown until now as he squeaked, “What do you mean, gone?”

The dragon growled.

Trib found himself down on his knees apologising profusely for his tone.

Mollified after several minutes of ardent pleading, the dragon said, “My clan’s moved to another dimension. They’re not coming back.”

Trib swallowed, tried to get his gibbering mind to work. “My lord, if it please you, could you please help elaborate just a little bit more. I meant, was there any reason for their leaving? Have my clan displeased you in any way?”

“No. The air, water, soil, everything in this dimension is getting too polluted. So, they all left.”

“My lord, but you, out of the great generosity of your heart have deigned to stay back.”

“Hrmph! That new dimension they chose isn’t that great either. I heard a new species of monkey is evolving there too. I’m betting that they do the same as the monkeys here — killing their environment. A few thousand years, and we’d have to move again. I’m just waiting to find a dimension without these pesky apes.”

“But my lord, if you and your clan are no longer here, then, we…”

“There’s little need for you now. Well, I’ll be here, so remember to come often. I like a clean cave. Now, go. I’m tired.”

The dragon curled up to sleep. Trib collected his bag of sweepings and walked backwards until the dragon was out of sight. Then, he turned; slowly shambled out of the cave. Once out, he dropped to the ground, stared up at the stars as the full import of the dragon’s statement hit him.

No dragons meant no sand. He’d have to reduce his staff, people who’d worked themselves to the bone for hundreds of years. Even worse, his stellar track record over the centuries would be destroyed.

Already, because rabbits had absolutely nothing on humans, there were hundreds of humans who he and his team couldn’t service properly, all of them suffering for days or weeks until he could scrounge around enough sand to give them a few blessed hours of sleep. And now, there’d be thousands more. The sand he’d got wouldn’t last for long.

The thousands of humans, driven mad by lack of sleep, would just become more destructive. They’d do something stupid like start a war or mindlessly consume whatever they could find or just destroy things. Humans were good at that. They’d destroy themselves and the earth with it.

Of course, the dragons didn’t care about the damage they did to this dimension’s ecology. They had places they could go. And him and his staff, well, they’d just have to find another job. Trib sighed. He’d been on Earth for a hundred thousand years, and it had become home. He was going to miss it.

He picked himself up and walked down, alternating between preparing his resume in his head and trying to find a way to dole out the precious little sand he had left with the greatest possible fairness and mercy.

A migraine started gathering, his heart sped up, his throat burned as his stomach threatened to come talk to his tongue while he contemplated a plan for the impossible.

Next time, he resolved, he’d try for a less stressful job, maybe a clerk or better, in some dungeon, where he’d never have to meet another of those benighted species ever again!

Damned dragons and twice damned humans!

© Indira Reddy 2021