by Nōnen Títi
The soft murmur came from inside them. Kunag felt it in the ground he sat on; as the sound stopped so did the vibration. As fast as he’d seen them move before, now they went very slow. The big one stopped just out of reach in front of them. Kunag started talking. It answered.
“It has eyes in the back of its head,” Nini whispered.
The creature answered her too. The lights or eyes were not really in the back or in the front; there was neither back nor front to these creatures. The eye was on the inside of a translucent body. That is, Kunag couldn’t see through the outer layer, but the light came from within. It would have as many eyes as different angles for the light to be seen shining through, but the source must be one.
“So what, just a head with pseudo pods? No up or down, no front or back? They work in all directions?”
Nini didn’t know, but the creature gave him a long explanation.
“What about a brain, a mouth, ears? I can’t see an opening anywhere. How do you eat?”
Again he was given explicit answers. It wasn’t furry. Not cuddly or cute.
Nini, too, sat very still, leaning her right hand on her knees and her chin on top of her hand, ready to hide her head, but so far there was no need. The balls were not threatening them, just checking them out. Nini used her left hand to turn off the lamp.
The big ball immediately came closer to inspect it. Maybe to it, the lamp was the intelligent being. It climbed on top of it. Now Kunag moved his hand very slowly and put it next to the lamp, aware of the many eyes watching. One wrong move and they could swarm them.
The creature itself took the final steps – or rolls or bumps – towards Kunag’s hand and touched. It was rough, dry, and warm. From the lamp?
In his quiet voice Kunag told Nini about the sensation. As he talked the pressure on his hand increased: The ball was listening to Kunag. Then it quivered. Maybe it was trying to speak.
“Suppose they believed we only spoke sound, but now they think we can understand touch,” he whispered to Nini.
A moment later a whole group came closer, their eyes shining brighter with the falling darkness above. They all wanted to have a feel of the people. They were all warm. “Warm-blooded?” Nini asked.
“Maybe they have to be on this cold planet.”
Kunag squeezed his eyes tight and clamped his teeth together to try and cope with the tickling sensation the creatures caused him, and which was slowly driving him mad. When he really could no longer hold himself together, he switched on the lamp. In an instant they all retreated, but they didn’t go far.
It was so special to share this most wonderful alien encounter. They were no longer afraid of each other. They had connected, and it was okay.
Nini managed to stroke one of them and they all had to feel the lamp’s warmth. The strokes made the creatures tremble. Kunag used the lamp to shine on one of them, so Nini could check for organs from the other side, only they never got to see any since the creature instantly turned its own lamp up. Eventually even the little ones were allowed to come close. By then both moons were in the sky.
This was a very organized group of… how many?
“I don’t know. Could be as many as half a set.”
“I feel trusted.”
For a long time their new friends rolled all over them. Kunag only worried that Nini would notice the second moon and decide it was time to go. But it was the boss who eventually gave the signal; all the little balls jumped onto the stems of the flattops and disappeared to the canopy, out of sight. The movement of the whole troupe made no more commotion than a breeze.
“I wonder how long they’ve been observing us,” Nini said, stretching.
None of the people would have noticed them if they’d been there every day. They could be animals, but they were coloured and shaped like the plamals around them. “Animants then, after all?” Perfect camouflage.
Kunag stood up as well and turned the lamp back on. He felt wonderful. He’d make it a point to look at the top of the canopy in the morning. Who knew – they might be watching him. For now he’d go back and draw them. This time he knew he could, only he’d forgotten how late it was. All were asleep except Maike, who sat in front of the remnants of the fire.
“Go to your mat,” was all she said to Kunag.
The second moon had already travelled halfway across the sky. He looked at Nini, who sat down next to Maike. Would she get in trouble? Nini nodded for him to go on. With his eyes he tried to ask her not to say anything.
She nodded again, so Kunag went to his mat. He didn’t dare take out his artpack now. He lay as still as he could, but he couldn’t make out what Maike and Nini were saying.
The next morning he didn’t linger; he fetched the water for Marya before sitting down next to Nini. “You didn’t tell, did you?”
“Don’t worry. Go make your drawings. Your secret is safe,” she answered.
“Our secret.”
In a quiet corner Kunag turned a new page in his pack to work on his drawing. It wasn’t hard this time – he could almost still feel them.
He wondered how those round balls could be so like them, so like people of another planet. They were aware, they could see, they seemed to have emotions, they knew at least some time sequences, and communicated easily among each other through vibrations. But how did they eat, sleep, procreate, or breathe? And how did they know direction? He asked Nini when she came over to see the drawing.
“I’m no expert, Kunag. You’ll need the zoologist to help you find out. Maybe they get a life supply of food at birth, like eggs. Maybe they breathe through their skin. Maybe they have other senses like electricity detection or body-line motion like fish do. I don’t know.”
Kunag added those possibilities to his drawing. Maybe she was right, but Remag would catch them and observe them in a box. Kunag would never let that happen. He needed no zoologist. He didn’t need to go back to town either. He needed nobody else, just time. Time he would have plenty of: Kun DJar was in no hurry.
TO A LIFE OF NO LIMIT
The hands that seized Wilam’s wrists came from behind as did the voice hissing in his ear. “Stop that right now. Let go of him!”
Startled, he relaxed his grip on Kristag’s arms. The next moment he was jerked backward from his haunches and fell down. When he looked up he saw Jema lift the child out of the sand.
Kristag began wailing, which was enough for Wilam to recover, realize he was sitting in the middle of the street, and that this was no dream. In a sudden panic he jumped up to get to his son, but then hesitated.
Jema straightened up, took Kristag into her arms and wiped his face with her sleeve. He sobbed onto her shoulder. “Take him home, he’s wet,” she said, handing him over and went to pick up the scattered pods and grubs Wilam had dropped earlier.
Unsure of what to do or say, Wilam walked alongside her, keeping Kristag in between them so he didn’t have to see her face. The silence filled his head with a series of images he had long wanted to forget: His best friend on Menever threatening him, “You tell anybody and you may find your house blow up, possibly with you in it.” Then that incident between Pina and Kolyag after the trefin for a similar reason. “People like that shouldn’t be parents,” Pina had said after Kolyag had given Wilam a black eye. People like what? People like Wilam? He gasped at the memory. After all those moons of trying to be patient, of trying to reason with the child, Wilam had totally lost it.
Unable to stop the tears he pushed his face into Kristag’s neck, and in doing so wiped the sand from Kristag’s hair straight into his own eyes. The boy was sweating from having cried so hard. In front of his door Jema stopped, waiting for him to open it and take the food from her. Kristag wriggled down and walked inside while pulling off his wet clothes one by one.
“Take a carry-pack next time. The mat covers work well if you knot them together and hang them over your shoulder,” Jema said, but her voice was cold.
Wilam wanted to answer her, to explain abo
ut his loss and it being the reason for Kristag being so impossible all the time, to beg her to give him another chance, but nothing came; his throat was swollen. He watched her walk away. Besides, it wasn’t true – his son was never a problem for Styna or Elsa.
“It’s just a phase. Don’t force him to eat. Don’t make it a battle – you will never win,” Elsa had said after the first struggles.
It had become a battle anyway. Kristag kicked and screamed about everything: eating, sleeping, going out, and staying in. Bath time was about the only thing left that was never a problem, as long as Wilam didn’t complain about himself and the floor being soggy, but bath time came only once a kor. Wilam hated having to pick up the tub from the people with the new baby, but he did it because it made Kristag happy. After bathing Kristag he’d wash their dirty clothes in the water before bringing the tub to the next family. These were things Pina would have done…
He now washed the child with water from the drink tank and dressed him in a set of clean clothes, after which Kristag went to play with the toys Styna had given him.
Had it not been for Styna marching in two days after Irma brought him the news, Wilam might still be sitting on the chest. Somewhere in the panic of those days his quarrel with Kolyag had been forgotten and they’d helped out a lot as well. But now… Jema could be talking to Frantag. They’d come and take Kristag away.
Wilam sank to the floor as the event played back in his mind, over and over, while the details kept evading him. He had been shaking the boy. He’d shouted, but what had he said? How long for? He’d not seen her coming. The loss of memory caused more water to pour from his eyes. He hated it. He was worse than Kristag.
All day Wilam paced up and down, unable to sit or do anything. Every noise outside made his heart start racing and his skin go cold. Footsteps nearby had him convinced they were coming – but it turned out to be Kolyag’s kids playing.
“Why you hurt?” Kristag asked after demanding water.
Wilam wiped his tears away and gave Kristag a drink without explaining. It may be the very last thing he’d ever give his son. He never cooked the food that had rolled through the sand. Kristag wouldn’t eat it anyway.
The night was no better. Kristag eventually fell asleep on the floor, but Wilam couldn’t sleep. Every minute lasted hours. Twice he had to cover his mouth to keep from hyperventilating. He couldn’t lie down without hearing voices that weren’t real. All he could do was cry because he’d hurt his son. He was a horrible father. It would be better for Kristag if they took him.
In the end he must have fallen asleep, because he woke up from a knock at the door. He held his breath, intending to pretend nobody was home, but Kun was shining from mid-sky and Kristag, who’d also just woken up, started running and calling.
“Wilam, are you there?”
It was Styna. Wilam quickly jumped up and called for her to come in.
She looked at the mess of blankets on the floor. “They’re opening the little room in the social building tonight. Someone will watch the children there during the meeting so we can both go,” Styna announced, lifting Kristag.
Wilam had worried about not being able to go to that meeting, which was to inform the farmers about the plains. Styna would move to the new settlement and Wilam had hovered between either that or going with Kolyag and Elsa, who had their sights set on travelling south. So far, Wilam had preferred the plains, which were said to be lush and healthy, while there was no way of knowing what Kolyag would find. Besides, Kristag adored Styna.
Wilam had wanted to go to the meeting to ask about the seedlings, but now he didn’t want to go out. He wanted to barricade the door so nobody could get to him. He tried to convince Styna to go to the meeting alone, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Large as she was and with as big a smile, she blocked his way. “Something’s going on and you had better tell me, since I virtually begged them to arrange childcare for you.”
She had done so because Wilam wasn’t comfortable with Kolyag’s girls watching Kristag. They were still young and he was so difficult. When it occurred to him that they’d have made a better job of it than he had, Wilam gave in to Styna so she’d stop asking.
All the way to the meeting and worse, inside, Wilam couldn’t help feeling people’s eyes on him. He jumped several times for no reason. Only once everybody sat down and the attention was on Wentar did he manage to breathe again.
But what the agriculturalist explained wasn’t the best news for Wilam. The plains over the hills were fine for cattle, but the few remaining crops were to stay in town because they didn’t want to risk the healthy natural vegetation. The crop farmers wanting to go there would have to learn to tend and harvest the natural foods.
The choice seemed to be made for Wilam. He said so to Styna, more to express his own disappointment than to inform her.
“Okay, I’ve heard enough,” she said, and stood up to leave.
Wilam sneaked out behind her. Kristag was playing in the little side room, but didn’t make a scene about leaving.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve cut the stitches out of his sleeves. They were too tight,” Tarin said, showing Wilam the bruises on Kristag’s upper arms just where the shirt was.
Wilam gasped before covering his mouth. Styna thanked Tarin and took Kristag’s hand. She walked as silently as Jema had yesterday. Since it didn’t get quite dark at night, he could see her frown. Had she worked it out? “You’re not happy?” he asked when the silence began to choke him.
“Right I’m not. You won’t come and I can’t stay.”
Wilam could breathe again for a bit. Styna was worried about the four zibots she had left, of which one was a calf and one was crippled. Their only chance was the better land over the hills.
“What if you took your zibots south, like Kolyag’s batis?”
“It isn’t likely there will be anything there and you know that,” Styna said.
“I honestly want to come with you, Styna, but you heard Wentar… if I go with Kolyag I can… or maybe the expedition will find an even better place.”
“The cattle cannot wait for the expedition,” she said, turning to pick up Kristag, who was dragging his feet. “You go, though.”
“I have no choice. I need to forget and start over, Styna. I can’t do that here.”
“I know. You go with Kolyag. Find some new crops and a new comate and then you’ll be happy again.”
Confused by her bitterness, Wilam stopped. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
She smiled wryly and started to amuse Kristag by acting like an animal he was riding. Kristag would miss her and she him. “I’ve waited, Wilam. First on SJilai, when you and Pina seemed to be apart. I was there for you every time you needed to talk. I waited for you to make a decision, but then Kristag came.” She turned to face him. “I’ve waited this last station. I wanted to give you time to heal, not jump in. We were finally getting closer, and now this.”
She resumed walking. Wilam followed. Her words were like fetters, slowing him down and filling him with shame that made him blush red hot. He’d never considered her more than a friend and a baby-sitter for Kristag – not since long ago on SJilai, anyway. He’d never thought Styna would feel any differently.
At the end of the street where each would take a different path, they automatically stood still. Styna lifted Kristag down. “I’m sorry. It isn’t your problem,” she said.
But it was. Had he even thanked her for always being there for Kristag? “No Styna, wait. You’ve been such a good friend. I’ve only thought of me this last station. I should be the one who’s sorry.”
“Yes, I was a friend. You lost everything then. I understand that. You should go with Kolyag; make a new start. It would be better for Kristag, anyhow, to have a father who’s happy.”
“It was only an idea,” Wilam answered. “I don’t have to go.” But he did, as far away from town as he could.
“Well, for the boy’s sake you should do what makes you happ
y. It isn’t his fault either and like you said, you’ve only thought of you lately.”
With that she stroked Kristag’s hair and walked away, leaving Wilam staring. Had he just been told that he’d been a bad father to Kristag? The first image that came to mind was that horrible incident in town. Did Styna know?
“Go home, Daddy,” Kristag said pulling at him. Wilam took his hand and walked home.
Like every other night, he waited for Kristag to fall asleep on the floor to avoid a scene. Unable to sleep himself, he played the events of the last stations back in his mind and slowly began to understand the reason behind Styna’s words. While she had brought him toys, taken him to the new swing in town and played silly games with Kristag, Wilam had been the one to make him eat and sleep, and complained about the noise. Afraid of danger or the chance of another disease, he’d refused to let Kristag play outside, get dirty, or run ahead – like yesterday.
For three days a heavy wind had blown sand from the dunes into town, which had covered the streets and homes. Kristag had been running through it, kicking to make it fly, when Tigor had stopped Wilam and demanded his promise to help kill the pests that were once again plaguing the seedlings.
While Wilam had tried to explain to the drunk that using lander fuel as a pesticide would kill the seedlings too, Kristag had walked further and further away and ignored his father calling. Trapped and with his hands full of food, Wilam had felt like kicking the way Kristag would, but Wilam hadn’t kicked Tigor. Instead he’d lost his temper with Kristag when he finally caught up with him. He’d said all these horrible things and held him so tight that there were bruises on his arms. There was an image of the child’s head rolling back and forth. He could have damaged something. Maybe Kristag would be better off with Styna; to be away from his abusive father, who could only think of himself. It would be his own fault if he lost Kristag. Serve him right.
In his dream that night they were all there: Tigor, Styna, Kolyag, Jema, and Frantag. They were after him to take Kristag away. There was a trial. For some reason Pina was there too and she was letting them take the boy.