by Nōnen Títi
What kept going through her mind all day was that she should have never agreed to that holiday. She should have known better. She could have at least come in every day as a visitor. How lonely and scared had Nori been that day? Why hadn’t they called her? Why wait till today? But she knew why. Work and home weren’t supposed to be mixed. That was why she hadn’t gone in, because of the looks she’d had before. She had deserted Nori because of what others might think of her.
The other children were on edge as they had been after Klara’s sudden disappearance. “I have charcoal in my stomach. Everything is black,” Kamaron said.
Jema knew what he meant. Inside her a huge black knot was forming. It was heavy and made it hard to speak or breathe. “A choking stone,” as Nori had once described it. Was it true? Was she better off now? No more pain, never having to be afraid anymore? She hadn’t belonged on this planet. A mistake! Nobody had come through for Nori. Especially not Jema.
The trouble came as soon as the afternoon meeting started. “I’ve been informed you had a special bond with this girl?”
Jema didn’t answer him. If he’d been informed there was no need to ask. With his pipe in his top pocket, he went on about the rules that had been broken and the dangers of treating these children like normal people. She was here to cater for the physical needs of these children and to leave the emotional part up to those who knew what they were doing. In front of three of her workmates, three other therapists and the young graduate, he scolded her for misunderstanding and carelessness. That it had been wrong to let her colleagues do all the work while hiding in the bedroom with one child. That her workmates had warned her so many times, but she had refused to listen.
While he was ranting Jema tried, in vain, to make eye contact with those colleagues she had ignored and left to do all the work. He stressed that he’d not been able to find a way to hold her directly responsible, but this kind of relationship would never again be allowed. All the staff had been warned about that.
She didn’t really listen to the details of his tirade. What it came down to was that she’d betrayed her co-workers and they had been told to watch her. In the meantime she kept hearing Daili’s voice saying she’d provisionally put her name down with a child: her child. What use was there now in going to Kun DJar? What use was there in staying here?
When she noticed all were waiting for her to say something she stood up and left the meeting. This time they could send as many notes as they wanted. It didn’t matter either way and the director could eat her status rise.
The first thing Kaspi said was, “Talk to me,” and she poured a big cup of wine.
But there was nothing to say. Nothing, at least, that wanted to come out. The bag Jema had thrown down when she came in had fallen over. Nori’s clean dress was still in it. She kicked it. “I’m never going back there, Kaspi. Never!” The rest of the story came rolling out all by itself, leaving Jema feeling empty despite the choking stone.
Kaspi sat down in her chair and let the silence be. After a while the wave-unit beeped. Kaspi turned it on. It was Kityag, wanting to know when she’d be home so they wouldn’t be late for the film.
“I’m not going,” Jema answered from her seat and let Kaspi do the explaining. Kityag said he understood and to take as long as she wanted.
“I bet he’s happy about it,” Jema said as soon as it was switched off.
Kaspi ignored that.
“He’ll be happy when you go too. He thinks he’ll get all the attention that way.”
Kaspi tightened her lips and walked to the mealsroom to start dinner. Jema refilled her cup and followed. She watched Kaspi’s hands as they put the container in front of her, but she didn’t open it. “What’s the use?”
Kaspi didn’t insist and ate alone, in silence. Now and then she looked up for a moment.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Jema told her when Kaspi finished eating. “I’m going back to work tomorrow. I won’t give them the satisfaction of partying before I’m really gone.”
Kaspi picked up the containers and tidied them up. In the living room she put on the newscast, probably just to shut out the silence. She wasn’t watching it.
“Maybe I should set fire to the whole building. Help them all out of their misery.”
Kaspi made coffee and put the wine back in the cupboard, her motions still flowing and calm. “Are you going home or do you want to sleep here?” she asked when it was nearly midnight.
“I’ll stay if you still want me.” The stone was now so heavy that Jema’s voice sounded like that of a stranger.
Kaspi put the fold-out bed ready. Jema sat down on top of it with a night-gown in her hands. She watched Kaspi pull off her clothes and undo her hair. The little wads of wrinkled flesh under her arms quivered as she moved.
Once in bed Jema couldn’t sleep. She felt as if she was short of air. She sat back up. “Do you want some water?”
Kaspi turned on the lamp and sat up as well. The water jug in the mealsroom was empty so Jema had to go barefoot out the back door to refill it. As she entered the code for the lock on the water storage shed, she felt the cold rising up through her feet. She waited for it to reach whatever was growing inside her before returning to Kaspi.
“I don’t see why they don’t send these children straight to the Land Beyond. It would save the government a lot of points,” she said as she walked into the bedroom.
Kaspi accepted the water and frowned. She had folded back the cover and was shivering on the edge of her bed. The thermostat had switched off over an hour ago.
Jema sat back down on the fold-out. “Maybe they should get rid of all ponderers right away as well; save them a lot of trouble.”
Kaspi sipped the ice-cold water as if it was wine, little bits at the time.
“Just imagine how happy Mom would have been if I’d gone to the Land Beyond right after Learners.”
When Kaspi finally slapped her, the cup flew out of Jema’s hands and spilled water all over her bed. “Leave it and get in here with me,” Kaspi said, pointing at her own bed.
The sheet felt cool against her hot face when Jema lay down. Now the stone had moved, so had the tightness in her chest eased and breathing wasn’t so hard anymore. Kaspi turned off the lamp. Jema felt her climb into the bed. Inside the soft cave of radiating body heat the choking stone slowly crumbled.
Geveler City
4/5/3/6184
Benjamar had his doubts about involving a natural healer, but since it was a last resort he decided to try. To see Jitsi’s body attached to tubes and flashing machines again had been painful enough, but then she had told them she wanted them to let her go. The poor doctor had been at a loss for how to respond.
“There’s a woman you can call. I’ve seen several people get better under her care where we failed,” he’d whispered and asked Benjamar not to mention to anybody from where the name came.
The woman on the screen, Miya, was in her sixth kor, mature, dark-haired with pale eyes. She didn’t need much explanation. She’d been contacted like this before. “I can’t make any promises but I will come and have a look when she’s back at your home. I do not visit the hospital,” she said.
It was a moon before Jitsi recovered enough to come home with him. Miya visted them the same day. She talked to Jitsi first and gave her some herbal drinks to strengthen her. “I don’t know how much I can do. What I give are helpers, not cures. Your body has to do that by itself.”
She stressed that the city wasn’t the best place for Jitsi. The seaside would be better. “You are high ranking. Take her to Ketemer or Telemer. Someplace quiet,” she said to Benjamar.
“I understand you’re from Freberer. Do you think the cold there will hurt her?” he asked.
“No, I think being there would do her a lot of good. On Freberer people eat real food, not this fabricated mush. It’s worth a try, but you have to remember they have no modern hospitals there. If she has a relapse you may not be able to get her to a doctor
fast enough. The cold won’t bother her; she can dress for the cold.” She looked at Jitsi and then back at him. “No offence, but you may not get permission to go to Freberer… seeing your age.”
Benjamar wasn’t offended. He explained that Skawag lived there and was a doctor. Benjamar wouldn’t go. Jitsi’s parents would join her.
Miya promised to give him the name of a local healer who was much better equipped to help. She stroked Jitsi’s hair. “You go and enjoy the old continent. You’ll find it beautiful,” she said.
It took a bit of convincing to get Tjarkag and Sofi to agree to take some time off together but Jitsi was very successful at pleading her case. A few days later all was arranged. They would leave on the Freeday at the end of Stations Four’s third moon.
Before that, on the evening of Fourthday, Tjarkag came over for dinner and to pick up Jitsi so Benjamar could have Fifthday off. During dinner Benjamar had the screen switched on to listen to Wolt’s interview.
Wolt not only did well in pointing the finger at the government about the issue of children, he also referred to the journey as a treyak and questioned the honour of the government for suggesting that children be allowed to compete to name the spacekabin, but not be allowed to join the colony. “The travellers will seek Kun DJar’s honour. Let’s hope for them that Kun DJar is willing to play by the rules.”
“Typical Wolt to launch an attack in disguise like that,” Tjarkag said.
“What’s an honourable challenge?” Jitsi wanted to know.
Tjarkag explained to her that in a treyak people challenge each other for honour, not for prizes, and that this had once been very much a way of life for the people of long ago.
“But don’t people die in challenges?” she asked.
Tjarkag shook his head and looked at his father, who had no idea where she got that from.
“No, people don’t have to die in challenges,” Benjamar told her. “Long ago people sometimes died because they’d rather not live than live without honour. If people die in challenges nowadays it’s because they’re stupid.”
In the meantime Tjarkag had gone to the wave-unit and found the origin of the treyak in the myths. Jitsi insisted he read it to her. She settled herself on her grandfather’s knees so she could see the holographic images that accompanied the story.
“Well, it began when people were only just created on DJar,” Tjarkag started, scanning the screen. Then he stopped and looked at Jitsi. “You know that’s not really true. They’re only stories. People evolved just like other animals.”
“I know that, but I still want to hear,” Jitsi told him.
“AR, the Creator: A concise version of DJar mythology as told by the ancient Bijari,” Tjarkag read out, restarting the story.
“In the beginning there was darkness. There was no land, no water, no ken. Then AR, the good one, came from the void and unfolded his cloak. From it rose OT. OT was mother; big and beautiful. She was mountain and valley, rock and soil; she was home.”
The three-dimensional projections showed the formation of the planet, a globe with different continents floating in the large blue ocean, clouds of white above it — the image was taken from space, showing DJar at her most wonderful.
“Being mother, OT asked for a child to raise, so AR created the water of fertility from which Bijar was born. And for her AR created father Bue and brother Kun. Both adored Bijar as they did OT, but OT listened for Bijar only.”
The space image turned to show the edge of Bijar, her bright light shining onto the planet and giving it a rainbow of colours at the edge of space.
“AR then created ken — animal and plant — for Bue and Kun to care for. He gave each of them the power to create more ken from the water and so fill DJar with the bounty of eternal life.”
The image closed in on the land, showing green valleys and forests with animals roaming the land, flying in the sky and swimming in the sea.
“Powerful Bue shone onto the steady circle of the true life-seed in the still pool and heated the waters to recreate many ken, all with the same radiant beauty.
“Kun was fast and strong; his motion caused waves in the pool and from the moving water he created many different ken for life itself to determine which was best.
“But still OT spent all her time caring for Bijar. Bue and Kun complained to each other: ‘We work hard, we care for the ken, we play with Bijar; we love OT, but OT is only mother.’
“Seeing that they were right, AR then split OT’s Essence, leaving two truths in one being: OT and SJari. OT was the mother’s lap to nurture the ken and pay attention to Bue and Kun. SJari was flesh and gave birth to twins, which were AR’s children. SJano and SJibi grew up together and were inseparable.
“Bue and Kun each became more determined to fill the land with ken and impress OT, but Bue did not like the challenge of Kun’s powers. He filled with hot anger which he threw upon the land and made the ken go thirsty. Kun, in turn, blew his words all over the waters, causing them to rise and wash away the soil, so the ken had to start swimming. OT worried about the land and the ken, but now Bue and Kun looked only to each other and no longer saw OT.
“Then Agjar was born. With Agjar sound came to DJar, as he had to utter loud cries when he needed OT’s attention. That is how OT knew what to do: the ken should have the right to speak on their own behalf. The ken needed a voice, so OT gave them one. But Bue and Kun did not hear the ken pleading for their safety nor did they listen to OT as each increased his own powers.
“The ken which were plants perished in the drought for they could not move to find a drink. The ken which were animals drowned in the flood for they were unable to breathe. In a last desperate move OT raised her body to protect the ken, but she was caught in the middle and fell, leaving the land desolate. With the death of OT, the ken lost its voice and Agjar stopped growing, because he no longer had his mother to feed him.”
The images had turned to depictions of the mythological characters of the story: Bue, the shining bearded father, and the young man, Kun, creating havoc on the land that was OT and her spirit that was SJari.
As Tjarkag went on reading, Benjamar could feel Jitsi’s hands squeezing his own when the twins and Bijar on the screen only just managed save the baby, Agjar, from his cradle before OT fell and the land went dark.
“Instead of showing remorse, Bue and Kun blamed each other for the loss of OT and renewed their fighting. This made AR furious. He banished Bue and Kun from their beloved DJar forever. He took from Bue his vision, because the shine of his own light had made him unable to see. Kun had to give up his power of speech, since you can’t hear those calling for help if you listen only to your own voice.
“AR then gave each of his four children a part of the Essence, splitting the truths once again. Of OT’s lap Bijar was given love to care for the ken, while Agjar acquired thought so as to grow and learn. To aid them AR created people and gave them the voice for all of the ken. Of SJari’s flesh, SJano received nourishment and SJibi received the seed of life.
“Bijar built a large kabin and brought all remaining ken onto it. She then set sail on the great waters in search of a land for them to survive in. As the fate of the kabin was the only hope for the ken, it was named SJilai, the hope of tomorrow. For a long time Agjar reported that the voice of the ken spoke only of returning home, but with Bue and Kun banished, DJar had become still and sad.
“So AR instructed SJano and SJibi to nourish and fertilize so as to bring life and happiness back to DJar. The twins ventured out together in search of powers that would help the Essence grow.
“SJano, kind and devoted, believed light was needed to wash away the dark, while SJibi, bright and passionate, argued that heat was required to push away the cold. Each convinced theirs was the only right way, they started quarrelling and soon forgot about their task. When SJano was angry he shook and trembled and with him so did DJar. When SJibi was cross she spoke with a spewing tongue and the land burned, leaving DJar wearing a v
eil of smoke and ashes.
“AR was unwilling to wait for another disaster. For their inability to learn from past mistakes, he punished the twins harder than he had Bue and Kun. Soon they found themselves smaller even than Agjar. AR exiled SJano to the deep waters, from where he could be only seen as a reflection, and SJibi to the far side of the void, from which she could only be heard.”
The image of the mythological kabin, SJilai, sailing the huge dark ocean, changed to show the real DJar; the powerful forces of fire and ash that had once raged over her land and the cold that had followed them. In the sky Bijar shone as bright as she could onto icy DJar, reflecting onto waning Agjar. Despite his mythological banishment, Bue dominated the space and even Kun was a bright circle among the pinpricks of AR’s cloak. Far in the distance the real SJano and SJibi were but marble-sized dots in the black heavens.
“‘Now find a way, for there is a way,’ said AR.
“For a long time the twins pondered this over. The only one powerful enough to bring life back to DJar was Bue, so SJano suggested they seek Bue’s honour: To earn back the respect he once held, Bue would have to feed the needs of DJar for eternity.
“Bue refused to answer the treyak until SJibi’s flaming words began scorching not only Bue but all those between them. By denying the ken a future, Bue was betraying OT, SJibi said.
“Unable to ignore the sparks of life burning inside him, Bue then promised to meet his honour and submit to the needs of the land for the woman he had loved. In return the twins would serve him for all time.
“Under Bue’s power the ice evaporated and left DJar warm and fertile once again. Humble now, Kun changed the winds so SJilai could bring home the ken. Since then all of creation has been looking for a way to mend the Essence. To this time Bue is known to all Bijari as the father, the great one. Bijar grew up lovely and bright and continues to care for the ken. Kun still looks upon DJar from far away, but sometimes the children of Kun come over to play and never to this day has AR had a need to impose his rule again.”