that don’t matter? Nothing matters. Lie down here, relax,
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
73
take it easy. Let your foolish concerns fly bye-bye. Open
yourself to the true blandness of reality and see how much
better you’ll feel for it.”
Jon-Tom started to sit down, wrestled himself back to an
upright stance. He pointed toward the skeleton.
“Like that one?”
“He was only reacting sensibly,” said the toadstool.
“He’s dead.” Jon-Tom’s voice turned accusing. “You
killed him. At least, this place killed him.”
“Life killed him. Slain by dullness. Murdered by mo-
notony. He did what comes naturally to all life. He
decayed.”
“Decayed? You flourish amidst decay, don’t’you? You
thrive on it.”
“He calls this thriving,” mumbled another toadstool.
“He went the way of all flesh, that’s all. Sure, we broke
down his organic components. Sometimes I wonder why
we bother. It’s all such a waste. We live for death. Talk
about dull, man. It’s, like, numbsville.”
Jon-Tom turned and walked over to shake Roseroar,
shoving hard against the enormous shoulder. “Wake up,
Roseroar. Come on, wake up, damn it!”
“Why bother?” she murmured sleepily, eyeing him
through half-closed eyes. “Let me sleep. No, don’t !et me
sleep.” The feeble plea hit him like a cry for help.
“Don’t worry, I won’t. Wake up!” He continued to
shake her until she sat up and rubbed at her eyes.
He moved over to where Mudge lay sprawled on his
side, kicked the otter ungently. “Move it, water rat! This
isn’t like you- Think about where we’re going. Think of
the ocean, of clear salt air.”