********
Gerald gripped the podium to keep himself from fainting while he waited for the thunderous applause that greeted each line he spoke to die down. He looked ahead to the next line, hoping he wouldn't stumble over the words next time.
"This completely and comprehensively programmed cosmic tree dispenses with roots and trunks so that the egalitarian ideals of centuries of wistful thinking have now been fulfilled," he read.
The applause was as loud as a waterfall.
"Every being whose reality has been officially certified is included," Gerald continued. "Henceforth, we are safe from the disorder and disorganization and the infiltration of legendary beings whose non-existence threw the whole world into chaos the past two days."
Members of the audience in the presidential studio waved signs with Gerald's picture on them and cheered madly.
"It is time for the ceremonial punching of the Return Button," the man in the sweat shirt prompted Gerald.
"I'm ready if you are," Gerald replied.
"And now for the presidential ceremonial punching of the Return Button on the Supercomputer that will launch the perfectly programmed cosmic tree!" announced the man in the tuxedo.
A brass band belted out a stirring march as a group of soldiers escorted Gerald to a giant monitor behind the podium. The Floppy Phenom was seated at a keyboard large enough to be a six-manual organ. He looked as cool as if he were playing a routine computer game.
"Ready and alert?" the man in the tuxedo asked Gerald.
Gerald nodded.
"TEN-NINE-EIGHT-SEVEN-SIX-FIVE-FOUR-THREE-TWO-ONE!"
Gerald hit the Return button. A panorama exploded across the computer screen and gasps of delight filled the audience. While everybody watched, the chaos of streets and jammed traffic was rerouted by a long brown plastic branch that was giving out tributary branches. Traffic began to flow and pedestrians marched in impeccable military order on their way to work or school.
"That was the most stupendous presidential speech of the century!" cried a man wearing a straw hat as he crushed Gerald's hand.
"Thank you," Gerald mumbled as camera flash bulbs blinded him.
"Mister Kaylen," asked a reporter, "how did you get to be president so early in your political career?"
"I got out of bed this morning," Gerald replied into the microphone stuck into his teeth.
"Mister President, what advice would you offer to the young people of this country if they wish to succeed in life the way you have?"
"Hitch your wagon to a cosmic tree."
"Things are falling into place very nicely, Mr. President!" exclaimed the man in the sweat shirt. "You sure came up with a swell cosmic tree on short notice to put our country back together again."
"Your cosmic tree is indeed encompassing everybody and everything!" boasted the man in the tuxedo.
"Does this mean we have everything taken care of for now?" Gerald asked his advisor.
"It does, provided everybody cooperates with you." replied the man in the tuxedo.
Gerald continued to drink in the sight offered by the monitor. The computerized tree was growing by the second as it picked up everything from schools to skyscrapers to Seven-elevens. But then, Gerald thought he saw a tower in the distance, and then another tower. They could have been church steeples or they could have been prison guard towers. Before long, these towers grew arms and tentacles.
"What's that?" Gerald asked as he pointed to the strange shapes.
"What's what?" asked the man in the sweat shirt.
"Those towers or those--those--cosmic trees," said Gerald, his voice faltering.
"Oh, don't worry about those little trees," said the man in the tuxedo. "If everything is encapsulated in the cosmic tree that you just launched, and it is impossible that there could be entities outside the scope of the tree which could threaten to public and moral and metaphysical order of all things."
"I'm glad to hear that," said Gerald.
"MISTER PRESIDENT!" cried the police chief-judge, her ruler poking at Gerald's eyebrows. "I will have you know that the Floppy Phenom reports an alien non-existent presence in the program. I most sternly recommend that you send out the militia to arrest the offender or offenders immediately!"
"The situation is most serious, Mister President," added one of the soldiers.
"Some people have no conception of public order," another soldier chimed in.
"Next thing you know," continued the police chief-judge, "some people will think they can program their own cosmic tree!"
"That would never do, Mister President," said a soldier.
"Surely there were no bugs or loopholes in your program to make it even logically or illogically or allegorically possible for anyone to program a counter cosmic three!" exclaimed the man in the tuxedo to the Floppy Phenom.
The Floppy Phenom shook his head. Voices throughout the studio became louder and more ominous. In the monitor, it was quite apparent that several false cosmic trees had sprung up around the one that he had just unveiled to the citizens of the country.
"Mister President," asked a reporter. "There are reports of counter-cosmic trees. Are these reports true?"
Gerald gagged on the microphone and never did get a chance to answer the question.
"I'll have you know," police chief judge answered, pointing her ruler at the reporter, "that our president and his staff will have these aberrations of reality dealt with directly. He himself will lead the expedition to the virtual reality center of the program."
"These self-appointed and self-selected presidents who have programmed cosmic trees in contradistinction and contrary concomitance to the just order laid out by our president will be debugged by our computer expert as soon as he can re-enter his program," added the man in the tuxedo.
The Floppy Phenom slouched in place, still showing no expression. The red-eyed dragon roller coaster filled the monitor and screeched to a halt on a set of tracks that came out of nowhere. Before he knew it, Gerald was again squashed against the far end of the car by the Floppy Phenom as the roller coaster made a mad descent inside the governmental cosmic tree.
*********
Once Mr. Schlussel was at the steering wheel, the ship-turned-submarine dove deeper into the water in search of the Ancient Salmon. Looking through one of the portholes, Sharon saw forests of seaweed, a sea horse, a sting ray, and a fish with bright yellow scales and a black stripe along its back.
"We interrupt this program to bring you an up-to-the-minute news bulletin," said the announcer on the television. "In an act of unprecedented daring for a chief executive, President Gerald Kaylen has, himself, made the descent into the virtual reality of the governmental computer in search of the alien being that has disrupted the smooth operation of the governmental cosmic tree. With assurances to all citizens that--"
"We interrupt this program to make an important announcement," said another newscaster, seated in front of a giant world map. "President Mariano Fettuschkinoff has just announced the launching of the new cosmic tree."
"I thought Gerald Kaylen was the President," said Sharon.
"Anybody could be president when anything can be a cosmic tree," said Bakhra.
"President Fetuschkinikoff reports that not only has every map created during the World Cartological Unification Project System been taken into account," the newscaster continued, "but fourteen maps not created by the World Cartological Unification Project System have been used as well. Computer maps with all routes needed to find one's way through the cosmic tree will be issued to all citizens in the course of this day."
Then the scene dissolved to a shot of the president himself. Unlike Gerald, he was a plump, middle-aged man with gray hair.
"It became clear yesterday," said the president with a jovial, fatherly smile, "that our problem was that the World CUP System was not sufficiently coordinated with the cosmic tree. We have now rectified this problem, and this rectification should result in perfectly and fully accurate maps for all citizens."
"There are reports that some citizens are not satisfied with the cosmic tree," said the interviewer. "Have you any response to these reports?"
The president filled the camera with a benevolent smile.
"We have all responses to contingencies of that sort in order---- "
"We interrupt this program to bring you a special announcement," said a woman sitting at a news desk with a world map behind her. "President Monica O'Segundo announces that her cabinet has just completed a cosmic tree that has a designated place for every sentient being in our country."
A loud, deep grinding sound drowned out the newscaster.
"Uh-oh," said Peppercorn as the submarine came to a halt.
"I think we're stymied," said Mr. Schlussel.
A tree branch cut through a wall of the submarine and let in a stream of water.
"I don't anticipate having to arrest anybody for infractions against the cosmic tree," explained a woman on the TV, "because I do not anticipate anybody not wanting to accept their rightful and inclusive places in our tree."
The television blinked out.
"What do we do now?" asked Fiona.
"Abandon ship!" cried the old man.
As the submarine disintegrated, Sharon and her companions found themselves in a dense network of moving tree branches where it was not possible to tell which branch went with which tree. To Sharon's surprise, however, she could breathe. In fact, she wasn't even in the water anymore.
"Not much of a tree if you ask me," said Bakhra.
"No leaves, no buds, no fruit, no nothing," said Lynndenbaum.
"It isn't the reality of a tree," said Peppercorn. "It's just a lot of information bytes masquerading as a tree, or several trees."
Sharon found it difficult to keep her footing as she picked her way through the branches that twisted about each other like snakes. She kept one hand on a limb to steady herself as best she could.
"Where are we now?" Sharon asked.
"We could be anywhere," said Mr. Schlussel.
"Why aren't we in the water anymore?"
"Because we aren't," Peppercorn replied.
"Does that mean we won't find the Ancient Salmon?" asked Sharon.
"Nothing means you won't find the Ancient Salmon," Mr. Schlussel answered.
"Do you mean that the Ancient Salmon doesn't have to be in the water?"
"Oh, I wouldn't pin the Ancient Salmon down on that one," replied Mr. Schlussel.
"We can look for dragon eggs again," suggested Peppercorn.
"Do they grow on trees?" Fiona asked scornfully.
"Dragon eggs grow anywhere they like," Lynndenbaum replied.
"Since they aren't certified as existing beings any more than we are," said Peppercorn, "dragon eggs can be anywhere that we are, since we aren't anywhere."
Sharon almost fell over when a large shadow passed over her. Only a steadying hand from Peppercorn kept her on her feet.
"There it is!" cried Fiona.
Sharon looked in the direction where Fiona pointed. She saw something large, like a blimp, perched among the branches for a few seconds, and then it was gone, just when she thought maybe she was seeing a fish.
"Told you that being out of the water didn't mean we wouldn't find the Ancient Salmon," chuckled Mr. Schlussel.
"But we lost it," said Bakhra.
"The Ancient Salmon is never lost," Mr. Schlussel assured her.
"Let's check out the place where it stopped," suggested Lynndenbaum.
The young elf lead the way in the direction where the Ancient Salmon had appeared. At first, it appeared that nothing was there, but then Sharon noticed that one twig had a few green buds growing on it. She reached for the bud but broke the twig by a mistake.
"Nice play, Elephant Paws," Bakhra reproved her.
"I'm sorry," said Sharon.
"You can't pull on the Cosmic Tree with it now," said Lynndenbaum.
"I said I'm sorry," said Sharon.
Fiona looked into the branches where Sharon had broken off the twig.
"There's something here, but I can't reach it."
The other children peeked in through the ever-moving branches. Sharon strained her eyes, but she couldn't see anything resembling the twig she had broken. Lynndenbaum took a wooden flute from his shirt pocket and started to play a weird-sounding melody on it.
"It's coming!" Fiona gasped.
"It usually does when an elf plays a tune like that," said Peppercorn.
When another twig with green buds on it slid out from among the dead branches, Peppercorn carefully took a hold of it and pulled gently. Just above him, a fork of budding branches appeared. Resting in the fork, was a bird's nest.
"Curb your scurrying!" cried the old man as the children jumped up for the nest.
But his words were too late. The branches lurched again and the nest dropped down. Sharon reached for it, but couldn't hold it. Lynndenbaum juggled the nest before he, too, lost it, and two eggs fell out. Amid cries from the children, Mr. Schlussel caught one egg, but the other fell through the branches and was gone.
"Here you are, Sweetheart," said the old man as he handed the egg to Sharon.
The other children crowded around Sharon to admire it with appropriate outcries of appreciation. The egg was warm and heavy in Sharon's hands. It was mostly blue with a few light streaks of pink in it. On the whole, an attractive egg.
"My inference is that the Ancient Salmon laid these eggs," said Peppercorn.
"And we lost one," moaned Bakhra.
"And we saved one," said Lynndenbaum.
The egg cracked open and a sticky liquid oozed into Sharon's hands. A blow from inside the egg broke it further and a bird's beak stuck out, or so Sharon thought. There was a chirping sound, but when the egg cracked further, it was a scaly claw that reached out. When the pieces of eggshell fell away altogether, Sharon held in her hands a baby dragon, a dragon with shining blue eyes. She was so startled she dropped the little dragon. It landed on the wavering branch below and hopped around, poking its head in every direction as if looking for something.
"This is the first blue-eyed dragon in many centuries, isn't it?" said Fiona.
"It's the first blue-eyed dragon in many millennia," said Peppercorn.
"It may be the first blue-eyed dragon in many aeons," said Mr. Schlussel.
"Tabitha!" chirped the dragon.
"What's that?" asked Sharon.
"Maybe it's a 'who,'" said Fiona.
"Check it out on the Internet," Bakhra suggested.
Fiona tapped on the keyboard to see what she could find.
"Does it want to be fed?" asked Sharon. "We don't have much here."
"These branches don't have any fruit," said Lynndenbaum.
The blue-eyed dragon fluttered its wings, but it could not fly, so it contented itself with hopping from branch to branch.
"Tabitha!"
"There is nobody listed on the web with that name," said Fiona.
"Tabitha!" the dragon cried again as it hopped further away and then waited for the children.
"Now it says here on this web site that Tabitha is a word that means 'get up,'" said Fiona.
"Like get up in the morning?" asked Sharon.
"I don't know. I'm only surfing the Net."
"Tabitha!" cried the blue-eyed dragon more insistently than ever.
When the dragon moved along in search of whatever it was looking for, the group of children and their teacher followed. From time to time, the branches swayed and almost knocked the children off their feet. The problem was not only that the branches were moving, but the surface she was walking on was constantly changing without notice. For a moment Sharon thought she was following the dragon on a dirt path in the direction of a thatch-roof cottage. Then she tripped over the curb of a busy street and had to duck out of the way of a line of speeding cars. Through it all, the dragon continued on its way as if there were nothing unusual about the route it was taking.
"Are you seeing things?" Sharon asked Peppercorn when she caught up with him.
"Yea," Peppercorn answered as he tripped over a bicycle rack that suddenly appeared in front of him.
Sharon felt like asking him, or somebody, where they were, but since she had not had any luck with that question all day, she decided to keep hoping that following the newly hatched dragon would lead to something a little more stable. At that moment, she was walking on a red-bricked street. With a leap of her heart, she recognized the candy store she had discovered with Gerald two days before. When a horse drawn carriage passed by, Fiona waved at the driver, who looked like a dwarf. Sharon was feeling hungry by this time and she was more than ready to spend all her money on candy, but when the dragon didn't see what it wanted in the store, it continued on its way. It had almost reached Tindy's Cartological Shop when the red-bricked street buckled and, once again, Sharon found herself walking on the electronic branches of the interlocking trees.
"Tabitha!" cried the dragon once again as it waited impatiently for its followers to keep up with it.