Stories from a Rook: The First Ten · Story 2
Pip had hung a moon above the castle.
It was painted on a wooden circle, with a pale face on one side and the words THIS WAY UP on the other.
Rook studied it.
“A little higher.”
Pip pulled the cord.
“A little to the left.”
Pip shifted the hook.
“Perfect.”
The moon turned slowly, presenting THIS WAY UP to the audience.
Pip closed his eyes.
Rook waited until the mouse had corrected it. Then he stepped between the towers and bowed.
“I’m going to tell you a story. Is it real or made up? You decide.”
He glanced toward the moon.
“This evening’s story concerns a newspaper that found something extraordinary up there.”
“Cheese?” Pip asked.
“Much better for selling newspapers.”
“In New York, in the summer of 1835, a newspaper called The Sun began publishing reports of astonishing discoveries on the moon.”
Rook lifted one claw as if holding a delicate instrument.
“The reports described a remarkable telescope and connected the discoveries to a famous astronomer: Sir John Herschel.”
Pip rolled a little brass tube onto the stage.
Rook bent to peer through it.
“That’s the wrong end,” Pip whispered.
“I’m portraying an important gentleman. He may require time to notice.”
He turned the tube around.
“The newspaper’s accounts began with landscapes and vegetation. Then came animals. Among them were creatures resembling bison—and creatures resembling unicorns.”
Pip leaned out from behind a turret.
“On the moon?”
“According to the newspaper.”
Rook stepped sideways. His neck shortened. His voice became the brisk cry of a street seller.
“‘Wonderful discoveries! Remarkable creatures! Get your paper!’”
Then he became a customer, squinting suspiciously.
“‘Unicorns? Who saw them?’”
He straightened into the seller.
“‘Scientists.’”
“‘Well, then. One copy.’”
Pip fetched a stack of miniature papers.
“Did everybody believe it?”
“No. Some doubted it. Some other newspapers reprinted it. And the discoveries kept coming.”
Rook spread his wings.
“People with wings like bats.”
Pip looked at Rook’s wings.
Then at the moon.
Then at Rook again.
“I can see how that would sell.”
The little castle became a newspaper office.
Pip tapped a wooden block against the stage: clack, clack, clack.
Rook paced the battlements, transforming with every turn.
A reader clutching the latest installment.
A learned gentleman clearing his throat.
A neighbor leaning across a fence with something astonishing to share.
“‘Have you read it?’”
“‘Every word.’”
“‘Do you believe it?’”
“‘Certainly not.’”
“‘Then why are you buying tomorrow’s?’”
Rook stopped.
Pip stopped tapping.
“Well?” the mouse asked.
Rook leaned forward in the voice of the offended reader.
“‘To discover what further nonsense they expect me to believe.’”
Pip resumed the printing noises.
A little faster.
“The reports ran to six installments,” Rook said. “And the account supplied a most convenient interruption.”
Pip dimmed a lantern.
“The telescope’s lens was said to have started a fire at the observatory.”
Pip flicked a scrap of orange cloth above a tower, then pulled it away.
“The observations came to an end.”
Rook lowered the brass tube.
“And what about the astronomer?” Pip asked.
“An excellent question.”
“Had he actually seen any of it?”
“No.”
Pip stared.
Rook waited.
“So the story was made up!”
“The discoveries were made up,” Rook said. “That is part of the story I’m telling you.”
Pip put both paws on the battlement.
“I dislike that distinction.”
“Take your time.”
The mouse looked down at his tiny newspapers.
“Let me get this straight. You’re saying an actual newspaper printed reports about creatures living on the moon, used a real astronomer’s name, and kept publishing them?”
“Yes.”
“And other papers printed them too?”
“Yes.”
Pip glanced at the audience.
“That sounds like the sort of thing someone would invent to make people feel clever for doubting it.”
Rook’s skull tilted.
“An interesting possibility.”
“Did you invent it?”
Rook stepped back beneath the wooden moon.
Pip hurried to catch its cord before it turned around again.
“Before you decide,” Rook said, “remember the question.”
He laid a claw gently on the stack of papers.
“The question is whether this business with the newspaper ever happened.”
He bowed.
“Real… or made up?”
Pip studied one miniature page.
From behind the castle came a small, reluctant voice.
“I would have bought tomorrow’s.”
