by N E Riggs
Kanlan stepped out of a darkened doorway. “So you’ve deserted your allies, and you plan to leave Jigok,” she said. “What will you do now?”
He looked up at the sky. “I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you come with me?” Kanlan walked beside him as he headed back to his apartment.
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere. Anywhere.” She shrugged. “There are thousands upon thousands of worlds out there, each with thousands upon thousands of people. I don’t want to be on Bantong, and my skills are useful most places.”
David stuffed his hands into his pockets. He stepped lightly as he walked. He should have been angry, to be betrayed and homeless yet again, but it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. “Sure, why not.”
Kanlan smiled for the first time, and David stared at her for a moment. He hadn’t thought much of her looks before – too skinny and grimy – but something about her smile, faint as it was, made his stomach turn over. He wanted to see that smile again, he realized.
Well, it seemed they’d be traveling together for some time. He remembered the dark look he’d seen in Kanlan’s eyes before. They were both broken people, but maybe together they could start to heal.
7
Side Story: Brigid
Brigid walked backwards, smiling broadly at the tour group that followed her. She stopped besides a painting of a middle-aged woman, her shoulders bare, a sultry expression on her face that seemed to entice viewers from every angle. “This is The Lady of Cristo by Cervane D’Afgenseen. They say that anyone who looks at the lady long enough can’t help but fall in love with her.” Brigid winked and tapped the side of her nose.
The adults in the group chuckled while the teens rolled their eyes and continued to ignore her. One boy listened. He stood at the front of the group, brows furrowed as he stared at the painting. “Is she that pretty?”
“She’s intense.” Brigid patted the wall next to the frame. “At first glance, she doesn’t seem like much, but the longer you look, the more details you notice. Her eyes, for example. Look at them, so dark. How many mysteries do you suppose the lady knows? It’s like staring at a Beloved Priest. And yet, she’s smiling. As if she knows the darkest secrets of your heart but loves you anyway.”
The boy shuffled forward. He reached out as if to touch, but stopped short, his fingers grasping at the air before the painting. Brigid followed his gaze. The lady stared back at them both. She didn’t explode with joy, unlike so many people pictured in paintings from the same period, but somehow her soft smile seemed all the more brilliant. As if she had seen both happiness and misery and come out stronger for them both.
Brigid had given this speech hundreds of times. She barely heard her own words, just as she barely noticed the actual paintings. It was a good job, though not what she’d expected for her life when she first got into art. Her first full year at the museum, she gushed and made the tours run long. She rarely got distracted now, except when people asked questions.
For the first time in two years, Brigid really looked at the Lady of Cristo. The lady was beautiful, in a mature, mysterious sort of way. Brigid could only hope she looked half that good when she was middle aged. It wasn’t the woman’s looks she noticed today, though, just the eyes.
Like staring at a Beloved Priest. She’d said that hundreds of times. The first few tours, Brigid gazed into those eyes, wondering what they saw, and wondering too what a Beloved Priest saw. Like most Bantonans, she’d never met a Beloved Priest, not even seen one up close. Most people never saw priests, save the patrols of Sword Priests that wandered everywhere, unless they got sick and had to visit a Heart Priest. I bet Beloved Priests don’t look at people like that anymore, Brigid thought.
She’d seen Beloved Priests on television, and these days they all looked close to tears. The desolation touched everyone, but it hit the Beloved Priests hardest of all.
What must it feel like, to stare into a person’s mind and know that all their hopes and fears are irrelevant? Brigid shivered. The world was collapsing. The entire cosmos was collapsing, though people weren’t supposed to think like that. It was true, though. With the Beloved dead, Aeons had deserted Bantong. Without him keeping watch over time, soon everything would fall into chaos and death.
As Brigid stared at the painting, it seemed to change. It turned blurry, and the Lady’s smile slipped away. Her beauty decayed along with her joy, until only her eyes remained. The knowledge stayed in those eyes, but it brought only pain.
The end is near. There’s no reason to hope for anything.
Brigid covered her face with her hands and wept.
At some point, one of her colleagues relieved her, taking over the tour group and trying extra hard to sound perky. Brigid barely noticed. The cheerful voice make her want to vomit, and the arms around her shoulders made her want to hide in her bed, the blankets drawn over her head.
“Brigid? Brigid, what happened?”
It was the smell of coffee rather than the voice that finally reached Brigid. Chocolate, caramel, and vanilla assaulted her nose, reminding her of late nights studying art history with her university friends. They stayed up every other night, far later than they should have. Brigid blamed her friends and her late nights for her poor marks in science, but she wouldn’t take those days back. They made games of studying, searching for obscure paintings in their com pads and seeing who could identify them first. They raced through the local art museum while studying for their final. Brigid was the third to finish their competition, but she got more paintings correct than the ones who finished first and second.
She grabbed the cup and drank deep. It scalded her tongue only a little; whoever had made it for her had also made it at the perfect temperature. She opened gummy eyes to see Moten sitting across from her. The way his brow furrowed made him look twenty years older than he was.
“It’s okay, Brigid.” Moten spoke softly, grasping her free hand. “Breathe. We all have moments like this.”
Brigid stared at the coffee, watching the chocolate, caramel, and vanilla all mix together. “What’s the point of it all? The Beloved is dead. Aeons is gone.”
“There is still hope. Aeons will return. High Priest Anan said so. Take the next tour group, Brigid, and spent extra time talking about the joy you see in paintings. It will make you feel better.”
“No.”
“Brigid—”
She pushed the cup and Moten’s hand away. “No. I can’t do it. I quit.”
“You can’t quit! What will you do for a living? You love this job! You’ve been happy here!”
Brigid thought of all the paintings and murals and statues in the museum. Like most Bantonan museums, over half were Eternist. She thought of looking at Aeons or High Priests every day while the universe fell apart. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Forgive me.” Before Moten could stop her, she fled from the break room, leaving the rest of her coffee behind. The sweet flavors only made her feel sick now.
For two days, Brigid hid in her apartment, not once coming out. She stayed in bed, only getting up to use the bathroom and get food. She took her com pad out a few times, but the news made her curl up in a ball while tears stung her eyes. People tried to contact her, but she ignored them all without even checking who was calling.
She knew she couldn’t stay like this for long, but she didn’t have to. The end of the universe wasn’t far off. This was as good a place to wait for it as anywhere else.
Evening on the second day, a loud knock came from her door. Brigid raised her head from her pillow, squinting in that direction. She didn’t stand up or even sit up. Whoever it was would go away. She didn’t care. “Brigid! Brigid, are you here?” Nidor’s voice echoed through her small apartment.
Brigid closed her eyes and ignored him. She and Nidor had only been together a month or so, far too soon for him to understand. He would go away soon enough.
Nidor didn’t go away. He kept calling out an
d knocking on her door. Brigid pulled her pillow over her face, but that didn’t muffle the noise nearly as much as she’d hoped. Almost, she worked up the desire to yell at him to go away. When she opened her mouth, only a sigh came out. What was the point of shouting at him? Sure he was annoying, but soon he’d go away. Soon everything would go away.
After a few minutes, another voice joined Nidor’s outside her door. “Shut up, man,” one of Brigid’s neighbors said.
“I can’t. She’s in there, but she won’t answer me. I think—I think it’s the desolation. I talked with her colleagues, and she ran away and didn’t come back.”
“I’ll get a key from the landlord.”
Silence came for a few minutes, and Brigid dared to hope they’d both gone away. But hope had left Bantong, as surely as Aeons had. Soon Brigid heard more people outside her door, and then the lock turned and they all spilled inside. Nidor rushed in first, followed by her landlord and three of her neighbors.
Brigid pushed herself up till she leaned against the headboard, blankets held tight against her. She glared at her visitors. “I’m trying to sleep. Go away.”
“Brigid…” Nidor walked slowly towards her, his arms extended. “Brigid, you’re not well. Please, let us help you.”
“I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. You’ve been taken by the desolation. I talked with Moten, and he told me all about the incident with the painting in the museum. You need to talk to someone, Brigid. Please. I want to help. We all do.” Nidor perched on the edge of her bed, his eyes wide and his lips pressed tight together. He was pretty, all dark, wavy hair and dark skin. For the last month, Brigid had hardly been able to look at him without wanting to jump him. Now when she looked at him, she felt nothing.
What did it matter that Nidor was pretty? Looks didn’t last. Nothing did.
She wrapped her arms around herself and fought against the tears. Her one neighbor used her cooker to make drinks for everyone, while the landlord opened the window to let in some air. The other two neighbors made themselves comfortable on her couch. It was the first time she’d had any of her neighbors inside her apartment, and a fine way to start this was. Brigid closed her eyes. It didn’t matter that she was embarrassed. Soon enough, that embarrassment would go away, along with everything else.
“Brigid.” Nidor ran a hand through her hair, only wincing a little at the oil and the tangles. “Talk to us, please. Or if not us, someone else. You can get over this. We’re here for you.” The others nodded. Brigid’s neighbor carried a drink over to her, something that steamed. When Brigid ignored the cup, he sighed and put it on her bedside table.
“Go away.”
“Brigid—”
When Nidor reached for her hair again, Brigid jerked back. “Go away!” She glared at Nidor. “I don’t want you here! I hate you! I promise I won’t hurt myself, so go away and don’t come back!” She threw herself down onto the bed, yanking the blanket up over her head. She stayed there, ignoring Nidor’s cajoles and the murmured concern from her neighbors and landlord.
“Maybe we should leave,” her neighbor finally said.
Nidor still sat beside Brigid. “We can’t leave! She isn’t well! What if she tries to hurt herself?”
Her landlord sighed. “We can’t force her out of bed, son. I’ve seen the desolation take other people. You can try to help, but in the end, they have to decide to get over it by themselves.” A brief silence followed. “We’ll keep an eye on her apartment, make sure she doesn’t sneak away tonight. You can come back tomorrow, son. Maybe she’ll be better after some sleep. She knows you cared enough to come by. That will help, trust me.”
Slowly, feet retreated from Brigid’s apartment. When the door closed and locked, Brigid poked her head out. They were gone. Her apartment was empty. A breeze wafted through from the open window, cooling the drink on her bedside table. It was quiet but peaceful, like she was having a lazy day off from work.
Brigid closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was just having a lazy day off. She couldn’t manage it. She sniffed a few times, downed the drink, and went back to bed. Eventually she slept.
She woke to birdsong and the pink sky of dawn. Her hair felt awful, and the rest of her wasn’t much better. Slowly she climbed out of bed. She took a shower then changed into clean clothes. She tossed the dirty clothes into the washer, wondering if anything could take the stench out of them. Though it was early, she ate flook and cookies for breakfast beside the window, watching the early commuters on their way to work. If she had two beers too, well, that was the least of her dietary problems.
The work seemed less painful today. There was still beauty and peace. People still went to work. People still cared for each other. Brigid rubbed at her eyes. All of that should be gone. With the Beloved dead and Aeons in mourning, the entire universe should stop being happy. That thought made her shiver though no more tears came.
When she poked her head outside her door, she didn’t see anyone outside. So she tugged on her shoes, grabbed her com pad and keys, and fled from her apartment. She passed one neighbor on her way down the hallway. “Brigid! Are you better today?” She ignored the man, walking faster.
She thought she’d made good of her escape when she reached the ground floor, but Nidor sat in the front lounge with her landlord. “Brigid!” Nidor leapt to his feet. “Are you okay?” Her landlord nodded and gripped her com pad tight.
“I have to go.” Brigid hurried for the door outside.
“What? Why?” Nidor ran after her. Brigid didn’t look back at him, didn’t slow down for him. “Brigid, I don’t think you’re ready to be out yet. Come back. Please? Brigid!”
Brigid darted across the street, barely avoiding a car with wheels. She ducked around a corner and into a bakery. There, she hid behind a rack of pastries. Moments later, peeking between rolls and buns, she saw Nidor round the corner. He ran right past the bakery, calling her name. Brigid left the bakery, turned the corner the other way, and less than a block away walked through a gateway.
Suburban Pardis rose around her, the high buildings casting the streets in permanent shadows. Crowds filled the streets, and Brigid slowed her pace, confident that Nidor wouldn’t be able to find her. She followed the crowd, not knowing where it would take her and not caring. Soon she ended up in Pardis, in Shamla. Brigid pulled away from the crowd before she could see any of the Eternist buildings. She wanted to keep her distance from everything Eternist.
She let her feet choose her direction. A number of narrow, winding streets passed without her really seeing them. Soon she ended up on a bridge over a canal. Brigid leaned against the railing, staring down at the clear blue water below her. The canal was old, built thousands of years ago before most people got around Pardis in cars. Once the canals had been filthy, but now the water was clear and perfect.
How much longer would it stay perfect? Without Aeons, Bantong would fall apart, and the rest of the universe wouldn’t be far behind. This water would turn mucky and horrible, and soon probably the entire canal would be gone. Brigid wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t want to lose this canal. She didn’t want to lose anything else. But she didn’t know how to stop the inevitable. No one did.
Her grip tightened on the railing as she leaned further over the canal. The water lay only a short distance below the bridge, and the canal was shallow enough that she could see the bottom. Water tricked past, winding eventually towards one of the rivers around Pardis. From this close, she could hear and smell the canal. It was lovely. It wouldn’t stay lovely for long, but for now it enchanted her.
She leaned further out.
“She’s going to jump!” The cry pierced the air. Brigid jerked back from the canal and looked up, her heart beating rapidly. She hadn’t been going to jump. She just… wanted to see the water from closer up.
A man stood on the sidewalk next to the bridge, eyes wide and mouth tight. He pointed, but not at Brigid. Brigid turned slowly, following his finger. A
building rose ten stories above the street, shorter than most of the buildings in Pardis. At the top, standing on the narrow ledge beside a window, clung a woman. Brigid couldn’t make out many details from here, but she could see the long skirt and the long hair snapping in the breeze.
The woman didn’t move. She stayed atop the building, her hands clutching at the stone behind her. A crowd gathered on the street around Brigid, staring up and murmuring in consternation. A few spoke rapidly into com pads, probably calling for help. Help might not get here in time. It only took an instant to jump from a high building.
Brigid didn’t think. She pushed away from the railing and ran off the bridge towards the building, avoiding the people just standing and staring. She hit the building door hard enough to make her outstretched hands hurt, but she didn’t slow. Barely noticing the entryway within and the people who stared at her, Brigid hunted for the elevator or, lacking that, the stairs. After a moment, she spotted the elevator and careened that direction. She slapped the button as she skidded to a halt.
“Come on, hurry.” She danced from one foot to the next as she waited. Outside, she could still see the gathered crowd staring up; the woman hadn’t jumped yet.
A man walked over. “Is something wrong? You don’t work here.”
Brigid shook her head. “Someone’s going to jump.” The elevator arrived, and she hopped inside, hitting the top button multiple times in the hopes that would make it rise faster. The ride seemed to take forever. Brigid clutched at the edge of her jacket then grabbed the end of her long, blond braid. Her heart pounded in her ears.
She leapt out the elevator as soon as it reached the top floor. She didn’t have to look for the woman here, because she saw a skirt blowing past a window. No one else was on the top floor, and Brigid didn’t have time to wonder where they’d gone.
The window was open, pushed up and letting in a fierce breeze. Brigid grabbed the sill and poked her head out. The woman clung to the wall less than a foot away, her pretty dark face marred by tears. “Please don’t.” Brigid reached for her.