Chương 473: Smart Snails

The High Council of Smart Snails was arguing. Not that they ever stopped. There were usually at least three of them perched on their traditional rocky perches, yelling back and forth about one thing or another. Sometimes, when more than six crawled up atop their rocks and a quorum was reached, the arguments would become intense, delving into topics and disagreements that could lead to a rift in the Council. Favorites were ' What is the Master's Ultimate Diabolical Plan?

'and' What is Lawn, and why do we have to stay off?' Number Two was always looking for a fight, and Number Twelve enjoyed trolling everyone. They often advocated a horrible plan to divide the Council, along with the vast lands they now controlled, go their separate ways, so they could each form a new council and be in charge. Twelve also harbored a desire to build a massive army and crush the rest of them under his foot.

Number One knew that this would lead to competition and war, and had taken steps to neutralize such talk, but crafting the alliances always cost him dearly. His allies, number three or number six would ask a question about the Master and their place in his great plan, and turn the conversation to a debate over the Master's philosophy of life.' How much salt did the Master use on his cooked poultry eggs?'

was a favorite, sure to have someone deny the Master ever touched salt, or that the Master preferred his eggs raw, or that eating the eggs was a metaphor, the eggs representing new life, and that the Master was so powerful he could decide who lived and who was eaten. The debate would go on for days with one by one most of the council sliding off their rocks and returning to guide their herds.

In this way Number One had avoided allowing too much power to the Aggressive Faction that saw conquering all of the underground as their mandate from the Master, The Purist Faction, who advocated for destroying any young snail showing signs of two colors, and the Wait for The Master to Finish his Nap Faction, that was scared of taking any action at all. There were also several other sub factions made of combinations of the council and they changed from month to month, as groups formed, agued, and broke apart.

Number Twelve joined all factions and would adapt any and all points of view, just so he could be in the discussions and cause trouble. But today was a real argument. A big one, with all twelve of the council perched proudly on their numbered rocks. They had hugely important things to decide. They yelled at each other in the voices the Master had given them, adding nuance with their eyestalks and posture.

"Don't Touch my stuff." One eye staring straight ahead at the supposed culprit, the other looking around at the rest of the council. (Meaning, which of you idiots is appropriating my units?)"Someone isn't doing their job!" Eye stalks crossed and glaring. (Brothers, we must work together to achieve greatness.)"I know a snail that will be crushed and recycled if they can't move faster." Rear back, and slam both eyes down almost to the ground. (Do I have to do everything myself?) They had been arguing all day in the conference clearing in the middle of the ruins near the Master's looming tower. Someone mentioned seeking the Master's wisdom, and was booed and hissed at. They certainly didn't mean themself, as no one returned from the Master's abode who had gone looking for him. The Master liked his solitude and had entrusted the council with governing all other snails. They often repeated his last words to them, intoning them as an oath to rule wisely.

"Look, it's simple. Kill anyone that doesn't belong here. Keep all the colors in their own areas. Clear more caves and expand as needed. And most important: Don't bother me. I'm going to take a nap and then ignore you for a long time. You idiots are in charge of the rest of the snails. I've made you smart, now prove it. Don't screw up. And keep people off my lawn!" The snails had been hanging on every word that the Master had said for the long years they had been blessed to serve him.

They had a vague idea of the Master's great work, to breed smarter and stronger snails. They had been his first success; He'd told them so and they were very proud of that, knowing they were smarter than the average snail. Now they carried on with his work, waiting for him to emerge from his 'Nap' and hopeful that he would be happy with what they had accomplished. This is what caused many of their arguments, since they differed in opinion on what work was supposed to be.

Their problem was simple: Invaders had come to the lands of the Master. They knew the answer was to kill the invaders with their armies, but how to go about this was being loudly discussed. Number One had sent a force to confront the invaders, claiming emergency powers. Four didn't like his choice of using mixed color snails in part of the army, preferring to show that the Master's plan of separate colors was the only path they should be on.

Twelve pointed out that the invaders were killing the first army quickly, and solving the problem of the mixed colors. Nine said they should leave the invaders alone, and they would go away. They all stared at him, then began rolling their eyestalks. Nine was weird that way, sometimes. Complications began to rear up when they were told by a wounded messenger that the invaders were hunting messengers and officer snails.

The council began yelling at each other, arguing they should send more officers and messengers, and others declaring they were only going to lose their entire officer core. Twelve helpfully pointed out that they could use the loss of the rest of the command structure as an excuse to take to the field themselves and show off their superior leadership qualities. He volunteered to leave the glory to others and stay here to guard the Master's abode. After hours of yelling at each other, Number Three shouted.

"Mistakes were made!" All the other snails went silent, even Number twelve had no reply to that. Number Three repeated his statement, forcefully. Several others muttered the same thing. Finally even Number One agreed. He called upon his awesome mastery of the wordage to convey his plan: "Mistakes were made."...

"Now, in our darkest hour"..." let the mistakes of the past"..." It would take a blind man not to see that I have achieved total Victory."

"Let loose the Kraken."

"One of you take a message, I need a cup of tea." This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. A messenger was called forth, one of the fastest: an 'approved' mixture of red and green with a small yellow racing stripe.

Number One repeated his speech seven times to make sure the messenger understood his words. Finally, with a dip of its eyestalks to signify it understood and would obey, the fast red snail shot off at blinding speed. As it passed a small bit of brush, it failed to notice several people hiding there and observing. Milo debated his choices. He and two brave scouts had followed the messenger snails to this lichen covered ruin near the intriguing tower not far away.

Also not far away was a dark tunnel descending to deeper areas, and that was the target that the red snail was racing toward. A look in the other direction showed him that he should stay here and deal with High Command. His scouts could trail the messenger and report back.

"I'll handle the dozen smart snails. You two follow that messenger. They are up to something." Tweedle and Ringtail saluted and took off, skulking through shadows and moving fast to catch up with the speeding snail, easily keeping up. It raced along steep, slippery passages large enough for even Gargantua to travel without bumping the sides. They were glad they were following someone, it saved a huge amount of time. The caves branched, and branched again, a maze of large, dark tunnels.

A quick glance down one side passage showed a cave with three misshapen purple snails, their shells were lopsided and they had a dozen eyestalks each. The passageway was partially blocked by spikes on the floor, painful and possibly deadly to the snails who couldn't avoid them. Other caves held different misshapen monstrosities of stupendous size, all held in check by the floor spikes. The messenger stopped at each intersection, looking partially down the corridors, as if unsure of his way.

But finally, after a half hour of travel, the snail came to a solid wall of sheer stone. It wasn't natural and the twins suspected it was a door of some type. The snail went to the center and shouted,"Mistakes Were Made!" It repeated the phrase over and over, with nothing happening, but on the thirteenth repeat, there was came a sound of rocks moving, and gears turning. The thick, stone door rose up a few inches, and the messenger turned to leave... too late.

A long tentacle grabbed it and pulled it into the darkness. The sound of a shell crunching as something chewed was unmistakable. Ringtail turned to his brother.

"I believe we have erred. There is nothing interesting down here."

"I agree, brother, but perhaps just a small peek as the door rises?"

"True, we do have a shiny new reputation of being partially competent. But my eyes are very good, and I think I can see just fine from another fifty feet back."

"My eyes have also improved much lately, I approve of this plan." It proved to be a wise plan, and one peek was enough to send them scurrying back the way they had come, running full out.

"That snail was correct, brother, mistakes were made!" Strong tentacles grabbed the door and flung it upward. Huge bodies slithered forward. As the twins ran, they noticed that the metal spikes were sinking into the floor, leaving the inmates of the various caves free to leave. They chose to keep running and not debate with each other: A sign of maturity and growing terror. While the twins were exploring and finding new friends, Milo watched the council of snails.

He picked up their composite language quickly, made up of recorded messages and eye stalk wiggles. Like most committees, they returned to their arguments after the messenger left. It was one of the strangest things he'd ever seen. Twelve large round rocks had been half buried in a circle and numbered one to twelve. In the thirteenth position was a rotted, wooden chair. The cloth padding and covering was gone, leaving the moldy wood. A large '13' was painted on the back.

Likewise, he saw the same number was painted on the tower above the door, and many of the messenger snails had a circle with the number thirteen inside, like some badge of office. The snails, for all their importance, we not much larger than the snails that Georgie caught for him when they explored together. Only a foot tall, these would have gone unnoticed except for their formal arrangement, loud voices, and continuing arguments. And no one would be eating them.

Buttercup and Rosie and given a vivid description of the aged and stinky snails. The council didn't stink badly, but their shells were brown and aged and their skin was a mottled green brown with spots and wrinkles. As they started yet another argument, this one about which battalion of snails should be gathered and thrown into the fray next, Milo spent some time looking around the area, checking for bodyguards, traps, or anything else that would be an unpleasant surprise. And he found nothing.

Other than the dozen or so messenger snails coming this way, the council was totally unprotected, and seemingly unaware of their predicament. From the shadows, he stepped into the clearing, and bowed.

"Grand Council of Smart Snails, I come in peace to parley with you as intelligent species do, to settle differences and end this confrontation." There was silence, then all of the council members opened their mouths and screamed. Squeaky, high pitched screams of terror, their eyes looking around in panic.

"If it has two legs and isn't me, it's an enemy!

"KILL IT!

"GET THE HELL OFF MY LAWN!"

"No Trespassing, I posted signs!"

"INTRUDER ALERT!!!!"

"TWO LEGS BAD!"

"ANY LEGS BAD!"

"and in the end, it will be the snails that inherit the Earth!!!"

"To Arms! To Arms!"

"It's not difficult, you idiots! Burn it, stab it, dissolve it, or crush it until it quits moving!

"MASTER! WHERE IS THE MASTER?!!!" All of the snails screamed and yelled, then, as they paused to catch some breath, Number Twelve said,"I'm sure we're all going to be great friends!!"