Read Greegs & Ladders for Free Online

Most Teleportations in a
Nanosecond
     
    The
crowd buzzed over the absurd wager. While trying to imagine the
scenario of an intelligent Greeg, the circuit boards of many fine
robots were forever liquefied. Things got way out of control when a
random spectator phoned his debt counsellor to announce that Dr. Rip just made his most
foolish bet ever. After that, word quickly spread that if you could
make it to the Greeg cage on the 5 th planet from Tralfar in the next half hour then you might
also be retiring in the next two years. Cash-strapped clients
swamped in debt (hoping to make a bet of their own) immediately
flew into a frenzy of action. Many sought out the nearest
teleportation booth. On particularly crime-ridden planets you could
see lineups extending miles into the horizon. The fugitives
patiently waited in line for days. It is not difficult to muster
such patience when you’re a guilty tax-evader scheduled for
dismemberment.
    Debt clients
began to materialize all around the Greeg cage. They appeared in
random locations, causing certain spectres to suffer the
embarrassing act of Bodily Displacement Syndrome.
    Rip let go of
the Greeg cage and turned to face the ever-multiplying mob. He
relished their attention, and was for once happy that a debt
counsellor had been phoned. To add a layer of theatricality he
paced back and forth in front of the cage. He tripped over a ledge
and decided sitting down was the best thing for him to do at the
moment.
    “I see by the
sudden appearance of so many desperately poor people that I have
made a good wager.”
    “I’ll bet you
can’t teach a Greeg how to make a jug of frozen orange juice in six
months!” screamed a desperately poor Snail-oid from the back of the
crowd.
    “Everyone
listen here,” spoke Rip, “you hopelessly debt-ridden lot might as
well teleport back to your places of hiding and await your
inevitable dismemberment, because this particular bet is for my old
friend Joe, and for Joey alone.”
    Jim laughed at
the thought of being Rip’s friend.
    “What’s so
funny?” asked Rip. “Is the bet too good for just you?”
    “No, no,” said
Jim. “You were right before. The bet was made to me alone. All
these other leeches… I mean, all these leeches should just teleport
out of here.”
    Some of the
leeches vanished. The ones scheduled for an earlier dismemberment
stuck around, clinging to the hope of a life-saving bet.
    “What say you,
Johnny?” asked Rip. “Do you take the bet?”
    Jim paused for
effect. “I humbly accept your wager.”
    “Ha ha!”
laughed Rip, clapping his hands. “All we need now is a
witness.”
    “WITNESS!”
shouted four thousand random members of the mob.
    “I guess
that's enough witnesses,” said Jim. “It’s an official challenge.
You will acquire a Greeg, and within two years you will make it
more intelligent and presentable than anyone here. If you do not,
you will give me your priceless fleet of Obotron 7 space ships. I
want all the windows scrubbed. And full tanks of gas too. I loathe
hunting for investment bankers.”
    “You know,”
whispered Rip, “I think this might be my greatest wager ever.”
    Jim thought he
saw tears welling up in a few of Rip’s eyes. Suddenly a severed
hand that had been momentarily caught up in a time-pocket flew
through the air and smacked Rip in the face.
    “I’ll leave
you to the business of finding a Greeg,” said Jim as he walked off
in the nearest direction away from Rip.
    Once the
autograph session ended and the crowd dispersed, Rip approached the
Greeg-keeper’s tent.
    “Ahem… hello?”
he said as he parted the tent flaps. A rank stench emerged from
within. Evidently Greeg-keepers don’t live much better than
Greegs.
    “What do you
want?” snarled Reg.
    “Haven't you
been watching any of the events going on outside?”
    “No… I’ve been
in here watching my show.”
    Rip looked
around the tent and saw nothing on which a show could be watched.
Not even an imaginary