by Nōnen Títi
“Isn’t it cool? It looks like a starfish but it has more arms,” he said, gently stroking the creature with his finger.
“You shouldn’t have touched it,” Daili said, but it didn’t seem to hurt him.
“Where was it; in the river?” Sunya asked.
“On the side of it. There are lots more there. Can I keep this one?”
Daili didn’t want to cut down his happiness, but she had no desire to keep an unknown animal in her home. “I think it needs water to survive. Taking it home would kill it,” she tried, but Tikot had already found a solution to that in the form of an empty food pouch he had filled with water.
“How about we bring it to Remag?” she asked.
To her relief, Tikot didn’t object to that. Remag lived at the very end of Seventh Street, one street north of Daili’s; it wasn’t too much of an extra walk. Although Tikot still drew more to Kalim, he now took her hand and hopped alongside her. Remag showed an immediate interest. He told Tikot that his find was the biggest creature so far. Tikot beamed and told him exactly where he’d found it and that it was to be called an “eightstar”. Remag invited him to come back tomorrow and they’d study it together; he would even take Tikot back to the river. “Don’t worry. I’ll be very careful,” he told Daili.
Remag was her own age and a very calm person, so Daili had no objections – not that she would have made any. Their food was ready waiting when they came back home, but the girls, caught up in a discussion, didn’t say as much as “hello”.
“What’s the use of promising everybody equal shares if there won’t be enough to share in the first place?” Hani demanded of Laytji.
“At least everybody will get to eat. You wouldn’t care if the people who couldn’t work starved,” Laytji replied.
“That’s ridiculous. Nobody will starve. If you teach them to survive they can’t become victims. It’s called trade. If they get it all free they get lazy.”
“Can we concentrate on eating and not on elections?” Daili asked.
But Hani had to make one last point. “At least everybody gets a chance, even the users.”
“Good, because I believe a lot of them are more clever than those old age government guys anyway,” Laytji answered.
“Don’t let Benjamar hear you say that,” Daili told her.
Why would Laytji think that? It sounded like a Jema statement. At the same time, Hani was no doubt expressing what she’d heard from Tini and Branag.
Tikot finished eating first and announced he’d go out to tell his friends about the eightstar, since nobody here would listen to him.
“No, not tonight, Tikot. Tell them tomorrow. It’s dark.”
Daili didn’t like them wandering around at night, especially since that last street fight; the kids didn’t need to get mixed up in that.
“Kalim would let me,” Tikot said.
The look in his eyes worried her. “Well, then you’ll have to wait until Kalim comes back.”
He ignored her words and headed straight for the door. “I’m only going for a little while.”
“No Tikot, go tomorrow.”
“You’re just scared. You’re scared of everything!”
Cold entered the room with the open door. Worried she wouldn’t be able to stop him, Daili jumped up. “Tikot!”
“You are not my mother.”
Before Daili could think what to do, Hani had reached the door and pulled Tikot back in with one hand while kicking it shut. “Whether she is or not, you listen to her,” she told him.
“I don’t have to listen to you, neither.”
But Tikot was no match for Hani, who was still a head taller. He reached for the door in vain and when he couldn’t win, he kicked Hani’s leg. Immediately she slapped him in the face. Tikot froze for a fraction and then ran to his mat and stayed there.
“What did you have to hit him for?” Laytji asked when Hani sat back down.
Daili wondered the same thing, but it might have been a reaction to the kick. It had all happened so fast. She sat down, silently relieved at this outcome, but she did feel a little sorry for Tikot, who’d only wanted to share his great find. Aware that a response from her was needed, Daili smiled at Hani, who then relaxed and finished eating.
Daili went to Tikot a little later. “You are right that I’m a bit scared, but I’m afraid for you. In case something happens to you,” she said.
“I know. I sometimes like you being scared.”
She promised they would all listen to him tomorrow once he’d been out with Remag, and so would Kalim when he came back.
“When?” Tikot asked.
“The day after tomorrow,” she answered, but like Tikot, she hoped he’d be back sooner.
Some Respect
Bent forward, Benjamar climbed into the wind. Here and there, bits of rubbish were flying, never touching the ground; most were discarded food pouches. Instead of the fresh air calming the anger he’d just now left the social building with, the sight of this litter only increased it. How difficult was it for people to show a little respect for this new place and for each other?
He had called the meeting earlier to sort out the ongoing problems between Kalgar and Frantag, to assess the extent of their differences and the rationality of calling elections for a colony as young as theirs. Yes, he agreed that a self-appointed government would eventually be kicked out, and, without any doubt, had each party the best in mind for the whole population, but it was people like Maike and Nini who got stuck in the middle.
So he had summoned them. Not only Kalgar, Frantag, Roilan, and Wilam, who were what was left from SJilai government, but also the loudest voices in each of the camps: Tigor, who had overcome his demise without embarrassment to take a stand against the scientists once more – so far he’d done that in a civilized manner – and Tini, who had designed most of the plans for the future town and was determined to make her design a reality regardless of the protests.
Roilan and Tini defended Kalgar’s stance for freedom of choice rather than being assigned jobs: They saw technology as the only way to make improvements to their current quality of life and argued that the best innovations always came in an atmosphere of competition. They had support from most of the scientists.
In the opposite camp, Tigor and, more reluctantly, Wilam, had automatically sided with Frantag. Not so much because they wanted to keep control in the hands of the government, but because the other side was threatening. They were backed by the majority of farmers and the members of the Sacred Praise Society, the latter for reasons of principle, while most of the ex-users supported Kalgar, if only for the word “freedom”.
At first, Benjamar had merely listened to them. Each had good points, which were not new, but certainly valid.
“People don’t want to be each other’s servants anymore. They have the right to be free to work where they can succeed. You get the best out of people that way,” Roilan argued.
“You told us you needed farmers on Kun DJar more than anybody else. You forced us to come, but now you don’t trust us to do what we’re here for. We can handle the crops. They just need time,” Tigor said.
Wilam was confident that the last batch of seedlings would survive, even if the engineered plants in the science building were bigger. Tini was equally sure that the site they had chosen for the power plant would be ready within two stations, even if Daili was still searching for fossil fuels.
So Benjamar had mediated, first and foremost to prevent them from all talking at the same time and to put things in perspective.
“You say it’s too early for elections, but you’re actively trying to get people to vote for you. That causes confusion,” he’d told Frantag.
“You are telling everybody you want free trade, yet you expect the farmers to just hand over their crops,” he’d said to Kalgar.
He’d stressed the frustration of people like Maike. “What if she refused to keep order if she wasn’t paid? What if the doctor and nurses did? What
if another pest comes to eat the seedlings?”
He had also reminded them that the arguments on SJilai had been over exactly the same issues and that refuelling them would never bring a solution.
That had started another round of debates, each reasoning that their own vision would guarantee safety this time around, and each accusing the other side, until they had resorted to making nasty, personal remarks: Roilan had called Tigor a brainless drunk. Tigor labelled Roilan a selfish criminal.
Benjamar had gone from amused to annoyed. “No matter how loud you all shout, you’re not hearing each other. This drive for power is getting us nowhere and it’s hurting the people who are honestly interested in keeping everybody healthy and safe.”
He’d eventually walked out, saying his attempt had been fruitless and he’d never be back. Whether they’d carried on calling each other names or not, he neither knew nor cared about. He was too old for politics and he had failed Nini.
From Central Circle, he turned south. A long walk was just what he wanted despite the rain and wind. Still irritated with the litter, he found Maike and two guards on Sixth Street in the process of barricading the door and windows of a home. “What’s happening here?”
“I had to take a few of the troublemakers out. This home will function as a prison cell for now,” she told him.
“What kind of troublemakers?”
“Just two men who are constantly attacking each other. I’ve tried to keep them under control, but one of them is going to end up dead if I don’t act now. This way the guards don’t have to stand at their doors all the time.”
The makeshift cell was located at the end of a row of homes and would attract the attention of all passers-by. “So you locked them up together?”
Maike laughed and pointed to a home up the street. “The other one is in there. The guards had to knock him out with an immobilizer or I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
“In that case, you had better keep him there,” Benjamar said, but it had him feeling angry all over again. Was it really so impossible for people to resolve their problems by other means than violence, be it verbal or physical? How long before the first casualty would set off a chain reaction? Maike had been asked to be in charge of law and order and she was doing her job, but was this the solution? Never mind elections; the law was more important right now. Rules were needed for behaviour, for fighting and littering, and for Maike’s right to lock people away or use immobilizers.
Not even half an hour earlier, Benjamar had walked out of the meeting saying he’d never want a part in the making of a Kun DJar government again, but now he returned to the social building, determined to not give up. He found only Kalgar and Tini still there. “I need to talk to you and Frantag together.”
Kalgar reminded Benjamar of his earlier decision.
“I’ve changed my mind. Come with me to see Frantag.”
Kalgar was reluctant to follow an order like that; he wanted to know why, but Benjamar refused to answer until they were inside Frantag’s home. There he explained to both of them what he had encountered. “Is that what you two want? To turn this into a battle zone just because you can’t talk to each other? Is that why you left DJar and promised all those people a new future – so it can become a police state run by soldiers? Because two grown men, proven leaders, have decided they won’t compromise for the sake of the colony they feel responsible for?”
Benjamar couldn’t help getting a little satisfaction out of the hush that came over both of them, made worse, maybe, by the presence of Frantag’s comate in the background. Frantag was red-faced, not accustomed to being told off. Kalgar sat frowning into the distance. Neither of them looked at Benjamar.
“Cancel the elections for now and start writing some basic laws and expectations together. Make it clear that those also apply to the elections. They, like everything else, should be regulated. All you’ve done so far is throw your own ideas out there and expect the public to understand them. Tell your people to control themselves. If Roilan and Tigor want a voice, they’ll have to talk to others, not shout at them.”
Frantag was the first to recover. “We can’t go announcing elections and then withdraw them again. That would anger even more people,” he said.
“Maybe. You’ll have to make a speech to explain why. If people want a say they’ll have to prove they can behave in a civilized way. Most will understand; they are just as fed up with this fighting as I am. But the two of you will have to set the example if you want their respect.”
Kalgar’s face spoke for his ego; it was hurting.
“I understand you don’t like to hear me say this, but I hope you’re willing to have a fair look at all that has happened lately and do the right thing. This is your project. Don’t let your pride get in the way now that you’ve brought it this far.”
It took Kalgar another few minutes before he conceded. “Okay, so how would we go about that, then? Write some kind of declaration to include people’s rights and duties to each other?”
“To each other, to the land, and to the elections.”
Frantag said he could see the sense of that, but it would be hard to convince people like Tigor and Frimon, who were counting on having elections.
“I didn’t say cancel them for good; I said postpone them,” Benjamar replied. “Two opposing opinions, no matter over what, always end up in fights. It’s just not good enough to have only two parties. If you want a proper elected government you need a coalition of many groups and opinions; that way there will always be those who let the issue decide rather than their allegiance, and can function as buffers between extremes. The scientists, the Society, the planners, and the cattle farmers also need to be represented. New people need to be in government, not just those left from SJilai. You two will have to function as presidents, mediating rather than rallying. You’d keep the parties in check. Let those who want a place in government provide you with proof of representing a group. Let the elections determine who gets in besides the two of you. Set a basic number of followers required.”
It was amazing what results you could get from putting people in their place so now and then. Even these two men, both headstrong, were now willing to sit down and talk about this. Was it just Benjamar’s age that had them heed him rather than kick him out? If it was, so much the better – he’d never lose his age advantage over anybody in this colony.
He left them to talk it over. Frantag’s comate let him out. “Thank you. I’ve been trying for moons to do that,” she whispered.
Benjamar would have liked to visit Daili or Nini now, to enjoy their peaceful company, but instead he headed home; the rain was coming down harder. He had no intention of spending the night with wet clothing to stink up the place; the cold was bad enough.
Though well insulated, the homes were in desperate need of some form of heating. The best hope for that was some new invention of Branag’s or the electricity the powerplant would have to provide, using windmills.
Well, wind was plentiful here, at least.
In the Eye of the Storm
“Three days max,” Kalim had said, but at the start of the fourth day he’d not yet returned. Daili would have liked to walk into the crater, but she decided to wait a bit longer; Kalim knew what he was doing. Besides, it was raining pretty hard, so he was probably just waiting it out.
Toward midday, the sky turned darker and an enormous black cloud moved in to sit over the town. The air was still. Not a sound penetrated through the heavy moisture. Kalim had been right; you didn’t need to be a weather expert to see that anymore.
Everybody was told to go home and stay there. Daili gathered the children and did just that. The day was now darker than most nights. East Street turned into a little stream of muddy water. Daili kept her coat on to stay warm. Maybe it wasn’t even so much the rain and wind, but the apprehension and the darkness that had her shivering.
She’d enjoyed the fresh air again, after four years on SJilai. It had been pr
etty cold lately, but her home was dry and wind-free. From barren ground they had turned this piece of land into a community. So what if they had to eat liquid food for now? So what if there was no Learners, no road, no water, and no sewage? They lived in a home and, apart from her initial worries about accidents or illnesses, she had felt safe and sheltered.
But now, for the first time, Daili felt really scared. She tried not to show it to the kids, but there wasn’t much she could do to stop herself from jumping when a crashing sound filled the air. A lightning flash had her jump away from the window. Another boom followed and the wind whistled through the cracks between the walls.
“Do you think the homes will hold?” Hani asked with a shudder.
Daili put a mat on the floor and they sat on it close together; the girls on either side of her, resting their backs against the table as they’d once sat together on SJilai, and Tikot in her arms. When the room lit up, she could see their faces: pale and wide-eyed.
She’d heard about this kind of weather on DJar newscasts. Severe storms had occurred on Freberer and Southland every spring, but the rest had been pretty stable. In the city there had been no fluctuations due to the diversion techniques, which had directed storm systems out to sea or occasionally to Northland. Daili had experienced a thunderstorm once when she was a child in Kolnuia, and some heavy rain on Ketemer. The kids had never seen anything like it.
Another flash was followed by a thunderclap loud enough to make the floor shake. “I want this to stop!” Tikot cried.
Daili pulled him closer; she wanted that too. “It’s just a storm, like on DJar. Try to think of everything you know about lightning.”
“I know it makes the plants grow,” Laytji said.
“What plants?” Hani asked.
“And you have to count to tell if it’s close,” Tikot added. Though his voice was trembling, at least his mind was working.