The tallest tree in the forest

 

It was never difficult to find Hraal’s home. He lived in the tallest tree in the forest, twenty metres higher than the next biggest. The tree is 250 metres tall and the hut was at the very highest point, with a view of everywhere in the world.  It took a lot of work to get a tree to this height, expensive bio-technicians worked on the design for months, 18 trees intertwined at the bottom to give foundation and support, a grapple-build microbiologists called it, then designer chemicals to make the tree grow at an extraordinary rate. There were only three trees in the city of its kind, barely a hundred in the whole world.

 

They used hoverboots to get up to the penthouse suite. On formal occasions, of course, they would be expected to climb, but it was a lot less bother to hover, and quicker too.

 

The view from the penthouse was spectacular. You could see for miles, looking down on the whole city. The next tallest tree was over twenty metres below them, the Nkoost family’s. Hraal took a piece of fruit and threw it down on the Nkoost house. They were an inferior clan, but their stock had risen recently, they had investments in the main biochemical companies.

 

Hraal and Tuuttii had sex in the penthouse, looking down on the city below them. It was quick and severe.

 

“When did we last do this?” Hraal asked, “It feels like a long time.”

 

“I can’t remember,” Tuuttii confessed. “I can’t remember much at all.”

Hraal wasn’t offended, for he was the same.

 

“Neither can I. Let us find out what is going on. Servant,” he bellowed. Some of the lesser people tended to call their servants by name, it avoided confusion if you had a large staff and built up an intimacy that made them useful confidants, but Hraal was of ancient stock and believed in keeping servants in their place. “If they wanted a name they should have been born to a higher family.”

 

The servant came to him.

 

“My memory replicates, fetch them.”

 

“But sir …” the servant started to say, but Hraal glared at him savagely. ‘But’ is not a word servants should use in response to an order from there master. “Yes your highness,” the servant said instead and started to leave.

 

“And mine,” Tuuttii added, “bring me my memory replicants as well.”

 

The servant hurried away, returning shortly with two wooden boxes.

 

The servant was dismissed, but quickly ordered back.

 

“These are all old memories. Where are the recent replicants?” Hraal complained

“These are the most recent replicants sir.”

 

“Most recent? But these are over a year old.”

 

“Yes sir, but you have been away your highness.”

 

“For over a year? Both of us?”

 

“Yes sir. Both of you.”

 

“Even so, we would still have replicants. It’s not as if we’ve ceased to exist for all that time.”

 

“Ah, but, you … erm …” the servant struggled to find the words.

 

“You may speak,” Tuuttii said, “if it is complex to explain you may even look at us if it helps.”

 

“Thank you ma’am. You sent no replicates from where you were.”

 

Hraal didn’t need to say ‘Go on’, his stare said it for him.

 

“You went to the place they call the Earth.”

 

“The Earth!” Hraal said, incredulous.

 

“The naked planet?” Tuuttii said, equally shocked.

 

“That it what I am told your highnesses,” the servant said.

 

The naked planet it was known as, for it was ruled by a simian species almost entirely nude. They had no fur on their person bar on their head, a few up each nostril and a clump up their bums, as if they were afraid of their turds getting cold.

 

“Why would we go to the naked planet?”

 

“Your mother would know sir, it was she who initiated your departure. Or you could check your last memory replicant.”

 

“I’m not talking to my mother,” Hraal said, “not if I can avoid it, she complicates everything.”

 

“Thank you servant, you may go,” said Tuuttii.

 

“So this is why people were surprised to see us. We were supposed to be on Earth. How mysterious.”

 

“Let us check the memory slates, see what they tell us.” She searched through the pile and pulled out the most recent one. “Here, this is the memory slate for the day before we left.”