by Inmon, Shawn
“What did you see, then.”
“I saw mendada, which means faces. That’s what they call it, anyway. It’s a holy spot to them. You and I would call it Mt. Rushmore. The faces are worn away, but they’re still recognizable. They’ve survived the centuries.”
Alex sat quietly, chewing on that.
“It’s going to take a while for me to wrap my brain around that. Let’s change questions. Where are we?”
“I’d say we’re about fifteen miles away from where you popped your head out of the door.”
“Sure, but where is that?”
“Your position on the planet didn’t change—just the time.”
“No, sorry, that can’t be. That’s impossible.”
“You use that word pretty confidently for a man who just stepped through a door in one world and into another. Do you mean we can’t be in the same place because of the ocean?”
“Of course, because of the ocean. When I stepped through that door, the ocean is maybe fifty yards away. But we live in central Oregon. The ocean is at least a hundred and fifty miles away.”
“Or at least it was, the last time you went to sleep in your house.”
Alex opened his mouth to argue, but Dan held a hand up. “I thought the same thing when I first got here. ‘If the ocean is here, that door took me to someplace else. Not just another time, but another place, right?”
Alex nodded his assent.
“Do you remember Saddleback Mountain?”
A nostalgic look spread across Alex’s face. “Of course. I went horseback camping with my dad there twenty years ago.”
“Good. It’s an easy landmark to remember. Sometime soon, I can show you exactly where Saddleback Mountain is. It’s right where it’s supposed to be, even though the ocean is not.”
“Are you really saying that the Pacific Ocean is in the middle of Oregon? What about Washington? California?”
“The big cities of the West Coast—Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles—are all gone.” Dan paused, decided that wasn’t dramatic enough, then added, “Not just gone. They might as well have never been there. There’s nothing but churning green ocean where they once stood. But that’s not all. I said I’ve traveled a lot, and I have. All signs that our civilization ever existed are gone. The geography is essentially the same, just changed by many centuries passing.”
Alex stared into the fire, drawing obvious conclusions.
“So, we destroyed everything, then?”
Dan shrugged. “I don’t know if it was us, or the San Andreas just let go one day, or what, but it’s all gone. It’s so far back in history from where we are now that there isn’t any record of it.”
“So, we’re here in this completely changed world and we have no idea how we got here?”
“That’s about the size of it. I think we walked through the door so far into the future that no one here has any memory that our civilization ever existed.”
“But, even if we stepped out of the door fifty, sixty, a hundred thousand years later, does that explain how the animals evolved? Cockroaches as long as my arm, vultures that look more like dinosaurs than birds, a grizzly bear that might stand twenty feet tall. How did that happen?”
“No idea. Nuclear war? Radiation? A plague that wiped out ninety-nine percent of humanity? Some sort of hybrid experiment that went wrong? I’ve thought about it for forty years and I still have no idea. These people know nothing about us or our time. There aren’t even many legends. The most ancient memory they have is called “The Leaving.” It’s a story about how people climbed on a giant bird and left for the stars.”
Alex whistled. “Maybe things got so bad, people left, looking for a better place.”
Dan nodded. “That’s what I think. The people who could, left, and these are the people who were left behind.”
“Does that explain why they hate tech so much? They destroyed my rifle as soon as they could, even though it would have helped a lot when those wolves attacked us.”
“Absolutely. No doubt. They would rather die than use something like your rifle to save them. They’re going to ask you to finish destroying anything technological that you brought with you.”
“And they made me promise not to build anything else. What if I had fallen in with a different group of people? Would it have been different?”
“No. It’s consistent. Every group I’ve ever met hates anything that resembles technology. If a tribe ever tries to go against that, all the other tribes band together to destroy them, like I said before.”
“I guess somewhere along the line, everyone who was left behind decided that everything bad that had happened had come from technology.”
“Wouldn’t you, if you felt something was responsible for the destruction of your world?”
Alex looked around and saw that the room had filled up with people. He tried to get a count, but everyone was moving about, talking, and he couldn’t manage it. He gave up and asked.
“How many people are there in this tribe?”
“A little over two hundred. The population hasn’t changed much since I got here. Most of the Winten-ah will be right here for the feast, except for the guards out in the woods and up top.”
“I saw the guard stations above. How often does this place get attacked?”
“It doesn’t, at least not very often. Would you want to put an attack plan together against this place?”
Alex thought about it. Alert guards in protected blinds in the trees. The open space in front of the granite walls. The challenge of having to be constantly attacking uphill against a well-fortified position. More guards at the top to alert and protect the community from a flanked attack.
“It would take an overwhelming force to do any real damage, I think. A lot of grunts would have to be willing to die just to get close to a real attack.”
“Exactly. And that’s why we haven’t been attacked in a very long time. There are no overwhelming forces here.”
“Why not? Couldn’t a tribe just grow and grow until they were big enough to absorb the losses necessary to attack a place like this?”
“You’re still thinking with a technological mind. These tribes never get big populations. Something that resembles a city requires people that don’t do anything useful to a tribe’s survival. Planners. People to pass new laws. People to enforce those laws. Lawyers to twist the laws into things they were never meant to be.”
“And so,” Alex took over, “you’ve soon got people doing the real work of survival—hunting, fishing, farming—just to support that infrastructure of non-productive people.”
Dan nodded. “On the nose. That keeps populations low. I don’t know of any tribes with more than five hundred people in them. This tribe is called Winten-ah, which translated, just means ‘The People.’ All the tribes tend to have names that translate the same way. Each one believes they are the true people of the earth.”
“Pretty much just like it was in the twentieth century.”
“Some things never change,” Alex agreed.
Alex saw that Genka-eh and Banta-ak had entered with the young girl, Lanta-eh.
“What’s the deal with this young girl? She’s just a kid, but she walks like a queen.”
“The Winten-ah believe she is the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy. For as many years as anyone can remember, the tribe has waited for a baby girl to be born on the summer solstice with a birthmark of a moon.” Dan nodded at Lanta-eh. “Then she came along. Born on the solstice, with a moon-shaped birthmark on her shoulder.”
“What’s the rest of the prophecy?”
“Like most ancient prophecies, that’s where things get a little fuzzy. She is supposed to be the person who leads the tribe in a time of great need. She will have the wisdom of the ages, and all that stuff.”
“A lot to put on a little kid’s shoulders.”
“Yeah, but she seems to have taken to it. Look at her.”
Lanta-ah moved through the room,
touching people lightly, smiling at them, and offering her blessing.
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “Being a messiah seems like an awful gig.”
A voice, throaty and deep, echoed a chant through the room. Another voice, this one high and crystal-clear, cut through the babble of conversation around them.
Dan leaned over to Alex, lowered his voice, and said, “The show’s about to begin.”
Chapter Nine
The World Spins
A dozen children—taller than any children Alex had ever seen, but children nonetheless—paraded onto a slightly raised stone platform at the back of the room. Torches burned behind them so that as they began to dance, undulating shadows rose and fell around the room.
Alex peered through the semi-darkness and saw that the two voices came from Banda-ak and Ganku-eh. The children danced in an odd, herky-jerky motion, lifting their left foot and slamming it down, then doing the same with their right. They established a rhythm and soon the others in the room—including Dan—began to chant.
Alex felt like he’d wandered into a play where everyone else knew their roles and he was clueless. Although he could not understand a single word being chanted or sang, the voices touched him somewhere deep inside. The ritual brought everyone together into a single stomping, chanting entity.
As the song reached a crescendo, more tribe members came out, managing to walk gracefully in the same rhythm while carrying carved-out logs heaped with food. A young girl appeared over Alex’s shoulder and dropped a large, smooth wooden plate in front of him. Immediately behind her, a man dropped food on it. There was some sort of roasted meat, a vegetable that Alex had never seen, and something that looked like a salad.
Alex looked around for silverware but saw that Dan and everyone else were already eating, albeit with their fingers.
When in Rome, I guess.
Alex lifted the meat to his mouth, wondering what he was about to eat. He needn’t have worried. Whatever it was, it tasted like a savory pot roast flavored with a sauce that was different from anything Alex had ever experienced—sweet, yet tangy.
Dan noticed his expression and smiled. “Don’t get the idea that we eat like this every night. This is a feast because the expedition to the shore was a success. Tomorrow we go back to normal.”
Alex wanted to ask what normal looked like, but the singing and chanting swelled so he knew his question wouldn’t be heard.
In perfect synchronization, the dancing children made one last leap and stomp and both the singers and chanters stopped. For a moment, silence ruled, broken only by the sound of faraway frogs and crickets. Then everyone in the room slapped the table in front of them and hooted and cheered.
“Finish that,” Dan said to Alex, pointing at his plate, “the highlight of the evening is coming next.”
Alex hurriedly ate the vegetable, which reminded him of a potato, but with more richness of flavor, and his salad, which was tossed with an earthy seasoning that he hoped he would get to taste again.
A tall man—tall even, relatively to these other giants—entered the room holding one of the karak-ta eggs like a holy offering. The top of the egg had been cut off smoothly and steam issued from inside. The man walked directly to Ganku-eh and offered the egg. She waved the steam into her face then reached in and removed a small piece of something.
The tall man moved to Banda-ak, who repeated the small ritual. The tall man moved around the room, offering the egg to each person in turn, who waved the steam like an oenophile at a wine tasting, then reached inside and took a small bite.
Each person placed the food inside their mouths, but didn’t chew, instead letting it melt as much as it would, then sliding it whole down their throat, a joyous expression on their face.
Alex cast a glance at Dan.
Dan leaned closer and said, “Just do what I do, but don’t take a very big bite. You don’t want to pass, because that will bring suspicion on you. Just take a small morsel and they will be happy.”
Eventually, the tall, graceful man arrived at their fire and offered the egg to Dan, who waved the vapor toward him, then reached inside and removed a piece the size of a quarter. He put it on his tongue and a blissful expression overtook him.
Calmly, the tall man turned to Alex who did a fair mimicry of the ceremony. The rising steam had a strong odor, but it was nothing he could identify. He reached into the egg and pulled lose a piece the size of a dime. All the other people at their fire kept their eye on Alex until he put the piece on his tongue.
The flavor of the egg was buttery and filled with herbs, but there was a definite egg-like taste to it as well. Eventually, Alex swallowed and felt nothing.
Dan was too cautious. I should have taken more.
And then, the world began to spin. Alex tilted and fell out of the low chair. The ground seemed the safest place to be. The spinning, swirling world went on as though he was laying on a piece of playground equipment. He lifted his head a bit so he could see outside the room and the stars were closer than he had ever seen them. He opened his eyes wide and the stars themselves began to twirl and dance.
No one paid him any attention. Everyone was in their own world.
Conscious thought stopped for Alex and he stopped trying to control the flow of his brain. He let go of the banks of consciousness and slipped into a stream he had not known existed. Time was meaningless. Only a moment passed, but at the same time the seasons changed, and the earth rotated. He could not have told which of those conflicting ideas were the truest.
Some unknown time later, he opened his eyes, but the world still didn’t make any sense. The logic of life still escaped him. He blissfully shut his eyes and let eons pass.
When Alex opened his eyes a second time, it was daylight and both Dan and Malen-eh were hovering around him. He made an effort to sit up, but hands held him down. Malen-eh wiped his face with a cool cloth.
Dan smiled and said, “I told you to not take too much your first time.”
“I didn’t. Or at least, I didn’t think I did.”
“It’s okay. It won’t hurt you, no matter what. Until you build up a resistance to it, though, it will take you on a powerful trip. I guess I don’t have to tell you that, though.”
Malen-eh had a concerned expression on her face, but Alex thought he detected a humorous expression behind it.
“How long was I out? It seemed like just a few minutes. But it also seemed like a few years.”
“That’s part of the magic—it dissolves time. We’ve been watching over you for two days.”
“Two days? Holy shit, that’s some powerful stuff.”
“Don’t worry, we don’t have feasts very often. It’ll take a little more time before it’s completely out of your system, but Malen-eh brought you something to chew. It will help the effects pass.”
“It was just egg, right?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”
“Fine, but I want to know.”
“It is the egg of the karak-ta, but when they prepare it, they mix in some special herbs and...” Dan hesitated.
“Go on, tell me what I ate.”
“Along with the egg and herbs, they add in droppings of the karak-ta. Guano. Get it?”
Alex closed his eyes. “Yeah, I get it. Remind me to not ask questions I don’t want the answer to.”
“I just did,” Dan said. “But you asked anyway.”
“Right,” Alex answered. “How is Malen-eh’s husband?”
“Let’s start our language lessons right now. There are no possessives in this tongue. It would just be ‘Malen-eh bukti.” Context would show that it is her husband.”
Malen-eh heard the words she knew and ran her hands along her left leg where her husband had been injured. Then, she touched her heart lightly and pointed at Alex.
“If you didn’t get that, Janta-ak, her husband, is recovering, thanks to you. It will take more time for his wounds to heal, but they have strong medicine they
apply in poultices to animal wounds that almost always lead to healing.”
“Almost?”
“Kragdon-ah is a harsh world.”
“What’s in those eggs that make them so trippy?”
“The karak-ta nest in the rocks above the seashore. The cliffs are sharp and almost impossible to climb. In the highest rocks above their nests, a certain plant grows that has highly hallucinogenic qualities. The karak-ta protect their nests fanatically, so they are the only creatures that manage to eat that plant. It passes through them and into their egg, which is why they are so highly sought after.”
“If the karak-ta nest in an area that is impossible to get to, how does this tribe manage to get them?”
“I said the rocks are almost impossible to climb. That’s why only the youngest, fastest, most agile members of the tribe are sent on the quest for the eggs. They work in small groups—two boys approach the nesting ground and cause a commotion, firing arrows or spears up to the nests. The karak-ta all lose their mind and chase after those boys, who lead them away from the nests as fast as they can. The remaining boys climb the rocks and grab as many of the eggs as they can, then try to disappear before the karak-ta return.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Yes, of course,” Dan said. “The tribe loses three or four of our best young warriors every year. If one of them injures themselves—twists an ankle, say, jumping from the rocks, that’s it. No one can help them.”
An image of being attacked by those monstrous creatures, nearly helpless to defend yourself, flashed through Alex’s mind. He gave an involuntary shudder.
I had a hard time dealing with them when I was fully armed. That is not how I would choose to die.
“But, it’s worth it to the tribe. Surrounding tribes will pay almost any price for the eggs.”
“It’s worth it for the tribe, but how about the poor boys that die trying?”
“Really?” Dan asked. “I thought you were a grunt like me. Was it any different for us when we were sent off to ‘Nam or Afghanistan, or wherever you were deployed?”
Alex was silent for a few seconds.