championed elective branding through community consultations. The two twisted through the avenues of Phoyara and passed the old eucalyptus with its convincing strips of color. They arrived at the next pack before Keba had the chance to ask Ravno why he was smiling.
The hive-like structure of the pack had open residences arranged in a semi-spiral, as seen from above. Or, one could argue, it resembled a great noh that marked the island astutely. A modest garden sat in the center of the pack and featured most of the key seasonal forest fruits: Arugula, dragon tongue bush beans, broccoli, endive, bulls blood beets and brussels sprouts, florence fennel, garlic, kale, carrots, corn and cauliflower, radicchio, rhubarb, parsnip, potatoes and pumpkins. Neglected, flowering stevia plants edged one side of the garden—opposite the well-picked mint stems on the other.
The pack as home, workstation, and gathering place was well stocked with suitable items. For sleep, cottonwood and arbutus leaves lay piled against the wall. For food or heat, dried husk fuel was stacked near dusty black potholes, spaced at regular intervals, around the habitat. Two worn paddles leaned against the wall, in happy retirement, beside a stick-and-lines that carried heavy loads like Aron’s body. For pottery, mounds of sand and clay, coconut halves of water, and refining tools lay in haphazard harmony. Sunshine came through numerous rounded openings in the roof. The light created a heightened contrast throughout the pack and threw highlighted circles on the floor, like sun-lit stones in a forest creek.
Keba and Ravno raised their skirts and crossed their legs to sit quietly on the dark earth. Word spread through the pack and nine others gathered around them. There, Ravno noticed, sat the man in the unmistakable bright red capa; he sat beside the same old woman from that day of trials with Aron. Ravno would never have originally seen the woman, when she had leaned against the eucalyptus, without Aron and his glassless glasses and lively marrow. Ravno’s pinky tap-tapped his calf in remembrance.
Ravno spoke while Keba signed, ‘Thank you for attending. Ravno and I have been sharing the plan of response to the population mandate. We’re careful not to attribute the mandate as only from the Group of Eleven; all and any of us are welcome to participate in their meetings or be selected by the people as a representative. So, the mandate stems from Wawasens as a whole and, as such, must be counteracted by us as a whole.’ Keba looked from person to person, eye to eye, and molded each sign phrase to those in the pack.
An elder, around the age of the old woman but hard to tell behind his grizzle and hair, shifted purposefully. He signed his question, ‘And why do we desire to counteract this approach? It has been effective.’
His hands came to rest on well-used legs and Keba looked to Ravno to be sure he understood. Ravno had understood, mostly, as he caught the word ‘why.’ Though they had expected this question, he found himself warm on the cool dirt as sweat distilled under his purple capa. Redness crept across the sides of his face and forehead and neck. But his hands felt cold with shades of purple.
Ravno asked the man, ‘Why do we live?’
The question felt ridiculous posed to an elder and almost devoid of respect—but necessary. Ravno continued and Keba interpreted his questions visually, ‘We’re here on the earth and live in harmony with other species. Why do we live in discord with each other? Can you imagine what happens when we thrust the noh into the flesh of our people? What happens to the individual and then, of course, to the community?’
Keba’s hands and face moved somberly. ‘We can partially tell you what happens to the individual,’ she said. ‘But first, can you tell us what will happen to the whole?’
Ideas surfaced through the discussion with those in the pack: fragmentation, disillusioned direction, mistrust. One man, who stood behind the group near the paddles, said, ‘And destroyed relationships.’
Keba said to the group, ‘And we build community on relationships, right?’ She emphasized that, yes, people are the foundation of the community. Whether those relationships are healthy or not, they continue to build their society and on they live, and hope to function, undeterred.
A body whose organs are paralyzed will die and be spread out before the birds in the heights of Vorra Mound. But with the body of community, the disease that paralyzed the body doesn’t die with the last bites of the beak. Instead, it festers and grows and spreads throughout the populace. It turns into ugly colors. Fear of the disease becomes a fear of those that may carry it and the fear becomes worse than the disease.
Ravno looked from Wawasen to Wawasen. ‘My friends, my family, my community, please listen. If we successfully remove these ill effects on the individual, then we begin to heal the whole. If we take away the punishment that deals the ill effects, then we begin to heal the whole. If we all endure some minor wounds, we begin to heal the whole.’
Both Keba and Ravno threw their capas in a heap on the floor. They revealed their freshly branded necks to those gathered. The people’s eyes widened and their throats shifted uncomfortably.
‘We’ve begun a process of immunization. We invite you to join us.’
As Ravno and Keba turned to leave, the man in the brilliant scarlet capa approached them. The red skin around his eyes seemed to flare as he introduced himself.
‘Cahaya, I’m Silas.’
‘Cahaya, I’m Ravno.’ A force secreted and fused together when their hands enclosed one another’s, as if they held a pre-established nexus. They raised their second hands to their hearts in acknowledgment of each other.
Silas’s tired eyes acknowledged them both deliberately as he said, ‘Ravno. Keba. Thank you. I was beginning to question the why and the wherefore of it all. I had lost track of life as life itself.’
At a moment where one would release the hand of an acquaintance, Silas tightened his grip. As Ravno drew closer Silas said, ‘What is life if not lived with fervor?’ Silas followed them out on their journey through the city.
Look at me
Ravno joined the circle at Pelajaran for the eighth historia forum and let his head roll with the motion as he sat. He noticed the small craters from Aron’s feet left in the ground by his usual seat. Ravno’s face brightened as he remembered Aron habitually digging his toes and heels into the earth during the forum. Ravno looked up and his eyes snapped to Aadi’s, her spirit lackluster. He stood and walked to where she sat. She kept her gaze locked in space.
‘Cahaya, Aadi.’
She stood as he offered his hand, her eyes still distant. ‘Cahaya, Rav….’
He let her fall on him with her bouquet of disappointment, shock and shambles. A susurration slipped from her lips, ‘Aron….’ He felt her body flit and he yearned for Aron’s flare and wit. But Aron was with them, in a way, as his jibana had been spread around them. Aron had become like the rains of bulansei, when they wash the island and refill the lakes. For now, in bulanost, his essence shone, warm on their cheeks.
Mr. Sunshine reminded the six of what they had discussed the previous month, about international investors who owned properties overseas but did not use them personally and how it made sense from an economic perspective. The muh-nee spread as a parasite to deliver the Great Profit’s sickness. Though the ancient communities grew in numbers, they wilted in connection. They fizzled as a drowning grebet who paddles herself farther down, down, down. They forgot who their neighbors were.
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