The Blackberry Walk

Chapter 17 My breakfast finished, the conductor took my bowl and cutlery away. The conductor continued to wear his taciturn, melancholic look as he cleared away the baskets of tiny butters and jams from the table. “Everything alright?” I asked. The conductor turned his head to look back to me, gave an ached smile from the corner of his mouth, and then a sigh, before he continued his work. Aish, I’ve really hurt him this time; what I did, I haven’t the foggiest. Was it the baiting from earlier, was he offended by that? Or perhaps me slagging off romance – maybe he has a sore memory? Maybe; maybe he does. The conductor’s boyhood romances, eh. The idea tickled me, as if there were a feather up my nose, until I had no choice but to sneeze out the question. “Say, do you have someone who-” “There’s someone on Venus I’d like you to meet, sir,” the conductor interjected with a newfound vigour. Maybe he could smell my question coming? “Yeah, who would that be?” “Well, sir, I can’t easily tell you his name-” “You can’t tell me his name, why’s that?” The conductor sneered slightly at my hasty interjection. “Sir, it’s not so much I’m not allowed to, but rather I can’t because he doesn’t have one. He is commonly known, however sir, as the Sun King.” “I see,” I said leaving a pregnant pause. The Beatles really are popular in space. “How do you know this guy?” “He is no guy, sir, he is a god.” The expression took me quite aback. A god on Venus? Was this who the conductor was praying to so reverently in his cabin? After pinching the bridge of my nose so as to clear my eyes, it took me a few moments to refind my footing in the conversation. “A god, eh,” I dumbly repeated. “What’s a god doing on Venus? What even is a god?” “Aboriginal Venusians aren’t like other organisms, sir. They are very long-lived – perhaps immortal – and are renowned for their wisdom.” “Does he know English?” “Not a lick, sir, Venusians don’t speak. You’ll understand once you meet him.” I nodded. From the train car window, Venus came into view, and once more the scientific lore I was weaned on proved to be wrong. This time, however, I made no song and dance about the fact; why would I give the conductor the satisfaction? What I saw from the window wasn’t an orange ball of heavy sulphuric storms, but a planet glowing a warm lamppost orange. “Evening on Venus is one of the Solar System’s jewels, sir,” the conductor interjected from behind me. “It is gorgeous.” The words left my lips without thinking, my eyes mesmerised, my mind in a stupor. The iridescence was overwhelming. As the train descended closer to the surface, we entered Venus’ sodium glow. The glow was not as you’d imagine, it wasn’t opaque as if it emanated through some thick fog. Instead, it was as clear as a summer’s day- nay, clearer still. You couldn’t tell where the light shone from, it was as if the light shone from all directions at once, as if the light shone from the very atmosphere. Very odd. Then, I glanced below and saw.. well.. a jungle. No other word for it other than a jungle. A jungle on Venus. I saw the tops of trees, of foliage, a river, everything, I saw a jungle. The train continued to descend, and we came into station. The brakes screeched, bringing the train to a halt, into what was the most earthly and familiar of the planet-scapes I’d seen thus far. “We have arrived at Venus. The train will remain at Venus for three days.” The car doors opened, and just as I was about to alight into this glowing paradise, the conductor caught up with me. “Sir, sir, please wait, sir.” He was panting, and small embers of sweat dropped from his brow. “Sir turn around.” I did as I was told, and blasted at me was the contents of a deodorant bottle. I coughed and spluttered as the white cloud consumed me. “I have asthma, you know,” I protested. “Sir, this bug repellent is vital.” Does he have me on mute? “The bugs and creatures of the Venusian jungle here detest this smell, sir. They aren’t toxic, but they can bite, sir, and leave sores.” I gave the smell I’d just been unceremoniously gassed with a sniff. “Grapefruit?” “Yes sir, it is just grapefruit sir. Here take this too please sir, it is a spray bottle of grapefruit juice.” I dutifully took the spray bottle and bundled it into my backpack. “Do you have a map for me this time too?” “No sir.” I paused. “I’ve learnt my lesson, you know, I have every intention to follow it this time.” “Sir, to find the Sun King, you don’t need a map, he’ll find you.” Rather cryptic. “Sir, you still have the telecommunicator on you, correct?” I nodded. “If you have any issues, by all means use that. But sir, I really think you will be alright. Just remember the advice I gave earlier.” I tried to remember what the conductor had told me, but had little luck. “Sir, your heart sir, remember your heart.” And with that, the conductor stormed off. Chapter 18 No map, and no guidance. Where was I to go? The ‘Sun King’ was allegedly going to show me the way, and bring me towards him. By what means this so called ‘Sun King’ was going to do this, I was none the wiser; and why is he called a ‘Sun King’ anyhow? Wrong celestial body, mate! Then I felt a slight drop in my stomach as a thought came over me: what if this Sun King can read my thoughts and convince me by subtle intuitions where I should go? It’s possible. Very possible. Nothing in space surprises me any more. Such comments about his name should perhaps not even be thought. From surface level, Venus was even prettier. The light’s glow was so gentle, bathed in glowing orange; the air was heavy and expectant, as if something grand was ever about to happen, yet not muggy nor barmy. Looking out from the slight elevation of the station, I could see patches of jungle and patches of plains also. The jungled areas had that ‘sap green’ oil paint hue; much different to the more bluish greens we have in England. There were taller trees, bushes, ferns, and everything in-between – vines too, hanging from those taller trees. The tall trees weren’t massive, mind; the tallest of them must’ve only been several times my height. By Earth standards, what I saw could easily pass for a jungle, or at the very least a child would with confidence point to it and say ‘jungle’. That is, save for the forest floor. Like the rest of Venus’ surface, the forest floor was a radiant orange sand, gravel, and stone, not a brown top-soil. And when I call the forest floor radiant, I truly mean radiant, by every sense of the word: these sands glow. They glow brightly – so brightly, in fact, that in the clear Venusian air, the jungle is nearly without shadows. Everything is illuminated in sodium glow. Walking forth and yet tentatively into the jungled area, I crouched down and picked up a handful of the sand and gravel. I could see all these little woodlouse-looking bugs scurry out and away at top speed – perhaps due to my scent – and I took the sand between my two hands. I then threw it up into the air, scattering it to the warm wind. Like gold flecks in the wind under an evening sun, is what those grains of sand and gravel looked like. Like a party-popper for the world’s richest man. It was delightfully beautiful: everything here was all too praeternaturally beautiful. “Wow,” I said without thinking. “Wow,” I then repeated by choice. When I say there was an expectant feeling in the air, I truly mean it. Around each corner, it felt as if I would find a fantastic adventure, some natural wonder, or an unhewn gemstone. And though I never found an adventure, a wonder, nor a gem, I was never left disappointed. Each time I had felt that I had found all of those things, and so much more; for what I felt, I had realised, was but the symbol for the enchantment and wonder I had found; an enchantment and wonder which each time turned out to be so much more. I walked further and further, deeper and deeper, into this enchanted jungle of light, and with each step, the pregnant sense of destiny in the air only magnified, the light only grew warmer. I had never felt so lucid. I had never felt so alive. It was then, after what could’ve been an Earth-hour’s trekking, that in the distance I heard a giggle. The soft giggle of a girl. I felt a frisson gently walk its way from my coccyx to the tip of my nose; and my knees bent in weakness. My heart tickled like popping candy, and the ever-taught muscles of my face finally relaxed, yielding a natural smile. Love, I thought; this is what true love feels like. My eyes were once cast widely, taking in the breadth of beauty, now narrowed forth, roughly 15° widdershins, with the focus of a longbowman. I clambered at pace up the steepening incline, trampling ferns and acacias alike, until I reached the top of this small plateau, and came upon a thick oozing pond, golden in colour. But the pond I paid no mind: across the pond, perched upon a glowing stone, there she sat, gazing at me longingly.