The Memory of Sky

by Robert Reed

  Short nights usually brought small rains and quick bright dawns.

  Diamond put on yesterday’s play trousers and shirt, and then he sat beside the monkey, thinking about nothing, about everything, his mind following no particular direction while the first trace of the sun began to emerge.

  Good woke and grunted at him.

  The boy put two of his fingers inside the monkey’s mouth, on top of the very wet tongue.

  “No,” Good said, spitting him out.

  Nobody liked to be teased.

  The ruddy glow was strongest near the trees, while out in the distance, where the water was thickest, the storm pushed like hot fingers high into the forest.

  Diamond slid off the bed again.

  “Stay,” said Good.

  “You stay,” he said.

  “No.”

  One led the other to the locked house door, and Diamond threw the steel bolt and pushed against the pressurized air. The storm slipped through the gaps and around their feet, and then the bright keening sound fell away, leaving the home quiet again.

  Good went as far as the curtain, where he planted his feet, saying, “I tell. I tell I am good, you are bad.”

  “All right,” the boy said, pushing through the heavy curtain.

  The first touch of rain always felt chilled, which was peculiar because it was warm enough to be bathwater. His clothes were drenched in an instant. Bare feet slid across the face of the landing, and noticing him, the sitting guards yelled at each other. The man inside the gate fought his way to his feet, but he plainly didn’t want to bother with this craziness.

  Diamond broke into a slow run.

  The original landing had been small, old, and in poor repair, and on her own authority, the Archon decided to have it torn away, replacing the structure with more wood and a fine eye on security. In principle, there was no way for Diamond to be hurt. The worst storm might throw him around, but the net and high railing wouldn’t let him fall. Freak winds sometimes broke necks, but his neck would heal, and this happened to be a weak dawn already past its most dangerous prime.

  The one guard shuffled after him, shouting with all of his authority, words scrubbed by the wind until nothing remained except anger mixed with a great heap of outrage: his slight comfort had been disturbed by a boy’s impulse.

  The third guard was still standing at the rail. Hearing the shouts, the broad back straightened, and leaving one hand holding tight, he turned and knelt down, putting his face even with the boy’s. But it wasn’t any face that Diamond expected. He knew every guard, and this was somebody else. Pulling up short, he gave a little jump, and the man shouted, “Your mother is going to be angry with you.”

  “With both of us,” Diamond said.

  “Probably so,” Father said.

  “Where’s the other guard?”

  “He went home sick. I volunteered to take over.”

  The unexpected always made the boy laugh.

  Then Father swung his free hand, as if clearing a space beside him. “You can’t get any wetter, I suppose. So come here and have a good look, before we pay your mother’s price.”

  But Mother was in an agreeable mood. She had to give both of them her cutting gaze, shaking her head in supreme disappointment, but there wasn’t a word about her son being drenched or her husband pretending to be a dangerous young man. She reminded them where to find clean towels. She promised a rack of heart-melons if her boys would pull them from the oven in ten, no, nine recitations. Then she opened the house line and began calling women-friends, organizing her day.

  Diamond and his father ate the roasted melons and dipped yesterday’s baby loafs in sweet oil, and Good consumed his share before hurrying outdoors, ready to defend his territory and perhaps have fun with his girlfriends. There was still time for a second meal before school. School occupied only the long middle of each day, save for holidays and vacations and illness. Except Diamond never became sick. A stomach virus once made half of his class throw up, but not him. Germs were no more dangerous than the air to him. Yet people talked about feeling better after vomiting, and on the principle that he might feel better than he was, he sometimes used a finger, vainly trying to take part in this ritual of purging and renewal.

  Diamond’s class was built on its busy formalities. There were friends and the friendly-enough others, plus Master Nissim loomed at the front of the room, and the boy liked much of it. But the great joy of his spectacular new life was wearing the school’s deep brown uniform and a pair of leather boots designed specifically for his odd feet.

  After the last baby loaf, Diamond cleaned his white teeth and washed the most important pieces of his body, and then he went to his room to dress.

  New guards were on station. A tall man stood beside the window, dressed as any office worker, golden trousers pressed and the black dress shirt tied around the waist with two purple cords. His name was Tar`ro, and he looked rather sleepy, which was normal enough. But he spotted the boy immediately, and after offering a little nod, he pointed his half-open gaze forwards again, studying the mists and falling waters as they were polished by the day’s new sunshine.

  Tar`ro was perhaps Diamond’s favorite. He had a strong, memorable voice, and he seemed to notice everything, and unlike most of his colleagues, the man would bend rules, chatting amiably with his client.

  Diamond tapped at the heavy glass.

  Without turning around, Tar`ro said, “Bits and Sophia.”

  Bits was a stocky little man, and Sophia was one of the few women guards. They were on morning duty too.

  Yesterday’s school uniform was dirty, but three others hung in the cupboard, waiting their turn. They were cut for his body; nobody else in the world could happily wear these clothes. Diamond put on the trousers and shirt and then tied both belts with the official knots, and then he set his boots by the door before propping the stepladder next to a wall covered with shelves. Soldiers stood at attention, waiting for orders. “Do nothing,” he said, reaching past them. A big book begged to be read, and he brought it down and sat on the edge of his bed, smelling the slow rot of ancient bindings and tired paper as he pulled open the plain gray cover.

  The papio book sat the wrong way in his lap, no letter or little mark resembling anything found in a schoolbook.

  Diamond read carefully, and every word was remembered. There were drawings in the book, and every drawing lived inside his head afterwards. Remembering where he stopped was easy. Understanding the familiar words was usually easy, although meanings could shift in odd, misleading ways. There was an entry about what humans called “woeful-vines”—poisonous plants that grew only at the edges of the creation. Their sap blistered skin, and their black leaves were full of acidic chemicals, and despite living only in deep shadow, they grew quickly, spreading by runners and sometimes producing toxic orange fruits that had never once displayed any interest in sprouting. Diamond was looking at a colored picture of the fruits when Father came into the room, and without looking up, the boy asked about a strange word.

  “It means, ‘Liar.’ ”

  Diamond looked up. His father was dressed for his work. “I’m reading about woeful vines.”

  “ ‘Lying mock-snakes’ is the rough translation.”

  The book was an encyclopedia meant for papio children. Diamond could remember quite a lot, but he struggled making his voice match what was written down. Several more words had tested him, and Father asked to see. Pages were turned and two of those odd words made sense, but the other three remained mysteries to both of them.

  Father was wearing a green suit, still new and very elegant.

  “Are you teaching?” his son asked.

  “No, my day is nothing but meetings.”

  Merit didn’t like meetings, but he preferred sitting in a room with anybody over hunting coronas with harpoons and explosives.

  “In fact, I should be leaving,” Father said. “So I’ll see you tonight or maybe sooner, if I can slip away early.”


  Diamond closed the encyclopedia.

  “Your mother is going out too,” Father said.

  The boy slid off his bed and followed him out of the room. In the hallway, just short of the front door, Merit bent to kiss his son’s head, burying his lips into the thick and twisted brown hair, and Diamond kissed the last part of his father to leave, which was the back of one hand.

  Mother was in his parent’s bedroom. The small woman was sitting on a tall stool, working with her reflection in a mirror. Diamond had seen her wear those clothes twice before, always on special days. The tunic was gold with white flowers that weren’t quite like any of the world’s flowers. Her slacks were the kind of black that looked purple in a strong light. Haddi saw him watching, and guessing what question would come next, she said, “I’m going shopping with my cousins. You handle your next meal and get to school on time.”

  “Tar`ro will make sure I do,” he said.

  She looked at him. Old women usually weren’t as pretty as she was. Her hair was still long and thick, white as sun-washed mist and now carefully combed and braided. Haddi’s trousers had thick legs and the tunic reached down near her knees. Powder painted her face and jeweled clips rode the tops of her ears, one pink and the other pinker, and she was smiling even when she told her son, “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “These men are here for a purpose, and it’s not to be servants, much less act like extra fathers.”

  “Sophia is here too.”

  Mother looked at the pale coral rings on her fingers. Again she said, “Don’t.”

  “Don’t want?”

  “Deflect my very good point.”

  Was he doing that? Maybe, and he felt a little bit clever.

  She said, “Darling,” and looked at him. “You have your own responsibilities. And your father and I expect you to carry them out like any boy of your age.”

  “How old am I?”

  For a third time, she said, “Don’t.”

  Diamond remained silent.

  “Normal lives. That’s what we want. For the three of us, we want some existence that can be confused for ordinary.”

  She stood and worked on a single wrinkle on the blouse that refused to obey the sweep of her long hands.

  He studied her wardrobe and face, as always.

  “Do I look all right?”

  “Yes.”

  She glanced at him.

  “You look spectacular,” he said, mimicking what Father offered at moments not unlike this.

  Then she laughed softly and kissed him on the tiny, tiny nose. “Have a good day at school, son.”

  “I will.”

  She left the room, left their home.

  Except of course Mother was still standing inside his mind, and for as long as he lived, there she would be.

  No new day wanted to repeat the rhythms of its ancestors. Each morning found its pace and its perfect length, and the most unremarkable child was expert in reading signs, knowing when one thing had to end and another begin. But not Diamond: left alone, he arrived early to most events and ridiculously late for everything else. Metronomes counted recitations, but they only helped find rough answers. That’s why the boy relied on friends and the endlessly competent guards, and that’s why he was busily setting up a wooden army when he should have been leaving for school.

  Tar`ro kicked the window with the heel of his boot, warning him that this morning was growing shabby.

  Diamond gave his soldiers one last study and then ran for the front door.

  The tall guard looked as if he had just been roused from an unhappy nap. But his voice was alert and pleasant. “Your monkey and I just had a nice chat. Did you know? I’m very stupid and he is very smart, and he has ten girlfriends for my ugly one, and that’s why he pities me.”

  “Is that what Good said?”

  Tar`ro grinned. “The message was implied.”

  No other guard talked this way, and Diamond was always interested in their game and how his own face tingled and grew warm.

  Pulling the door curtain back into place, Diamond touched two of the heads of the painted corona, wishing for its protection.

  Then Tar`ro led the boy to the gate.

  Switches had to be turned, alerting unseen people about the client’s movement. Two locks needed different keys. Sophia was stationed inside, Bits outside, and they worked together with neat, efficient motions.

  The morning mists had disappeared. Following a weak rain, waters escaping from the high ponds and swollen bladders were barely able to hold together in one thin ribbon of tumbling water. Ten thousand winged creatures crisscrossed inside the bright air while endless voices screamed. The great old forest was vertical pillars of wood, none close to its neighbors, all hanging from the invisible roof of Creation. Diamond knew the names of every tree and how to recognize the various species. The canopy below was a dense dark green carpet, thousands of people and millions of animals living inside that tangle of branches and huts and farms and little factories. Diamond had often visited the canopy, and his father and Master Nissim twice took him to the highest portions of the District, showing him that odd realm never touched by daylight. And of course he once flew through the wilderness and walked on the reef country. Almost no one was able to walk with the papio. Yet despite his experiences and the flawless memory, Diamond knew almost nothing about the people that he saw every day—those scurrying figures moving up and down the various home trees.

  The gate opened with a sharp whine. Beyond was a small platform ending with a strong ladder leading only downwards. Bits took the lead, grabbing the ropes with hands and the insides of his boots, dropping neatly out of view.

  From overhead, a voice called out, “Diamond.”

  “Your girlfriend,” Sophia teased.

  Elata.

  “Go,” Tar`ro told him.

  That was the rule. Three guards had to stay close while he was outdoors, and Diamond knew that Bits would turn to vinegar if he were told to climb back up and wait for the neighbor girl.

  Elata was standing on the walkway far above.

  “Catch up,” Diamond called.

  “Don’t tell her that,” Tar`ro said.

  Bare ropes used to dangle between there and here. They were a security risk and cut away, but that didn’t keep a bold girl from climbing over the railing, jumping with limbs stretching out and her belly down.

  Tar`ro cursed quietly, without heat, and again, he said, “Go.”

  Diamond took the ladder with one hand, but he moved slowly, watching Elata dive onto the highest portion of the net. Supporting ropes creaked, absorbing the impact. Laughing, she rolled down across the fine-meshed netting, reaching him in a few moments. Her trick was well-practiced, as was the guards’ outrage. Some high boss had decided that the net would protect Diamond, and maybe it did, but not when it came to keeping one young girl away.

  “Good morning, Diamond.”

  “Hello.”

  Elata loved falling. She was fearless and pretty and big in the shoulders, which were stronger shoulders than most people her age could muster, girl or boy. Her wide mouth suited her, as did the golden teeth, and her long straight hair always wanted to be tied into elaborate braids. Her uniforms were usually clean but sometimes thin in the elbows and knees. She had taught her friend how to climb, and she had watched him heal when he made mistakes and fell. But Elata never mentioned what both of them understood: Diamond would never be her match when it came to scampering up and down.

  “I’m first,” Elata said, slipping past him on the ladder.

  Tar`ro cursed again, but he was laughing too.

  These were daily games.

  Diamond followed. From above, his new landing seemed large yet normal enough, but from below it was far more impressive. Great timbers of bloodwood had been brought from the District of Districts, bolted to Marduk to lend unusual strength to the supporting framework. Within the timbers was a protected berth where a police blimp could
be tethered safely out of the elements. Different blimps rotated through, each one black as ink. Some crew was always on duty, and as the subject of all of this interest dropped onto the lower walkway, today’s blimp kicked its engines awake and pulled out into the open air, ready to make the escort complete.

  Sophia was following Diamond.

  Above them, Tar`ro relocked the gate, wrapping a seal around the bars to prove to the next guards that nobody had slipped inside unseen. Then the blimp let loose an important roar of its horn, announcing that it had cleared its berth.

  Tar`ro was starting down when another newcomer approached.

  “You’re late,” Seldom said.

  Nobody disagreed.

  For Seldom, there was comfort in rules and codes and any law that was full of important knots. The boy was growing fast, but it was a gangly growth that fit the graceless stride he used as they marched along.

  The group strode out from under the landing.

  A scream arrived, then a body.

  Even knowing what was coming, everybody was startled. The monkey thumped down hard in front of his boy, and Good laughed as he joined the others. Two of the guards complained, but not Bits. Working at the lead, the stocky man glanced over the railing and then back at them, smiling as he always smiled. He wasn’t a happy or joyful soul, but he was often grinning. Diamond noticed the shining teeth and shining eyes, and he thought about the guard for a full half-moment. Then his brain skipped to ten other subjects of infinitely greater importance, and the Creation and this child were another breath older.

  No other student looked like the boy-creature. The rest of the school didn’t have funny bones and funny hair and that weird neat way of walking on those little-toed feet. Nobody else needed bodyguards carrying hidden pistols. Surely no child in history had ever been allowed to bring his orange-headed monkey to class. But just as impressive, the local Archon had never visited this school until Diamond arrived, and now she had come here fourteen times in four hundred days.

  “I’ll earn my diploma soon,” she joked during the last tour.