Simia

by Paris Singer

  It turned away, snuffling at me as if trying to decide what I was. Suddenly, Alana jumped into view, grabbing hold of the creature’s ears with both hands. The startled beast snorted and whined, trying to escape, but Alana kept it in place.

  “Quick,” she called. I got to my feet as quickly as I could.

  “Give me your hand,” she cried.

  As soon as I did, she cried, “Hold on,” and thrust me up onto the creature’s back. “Hold on to it as tightly as you can,” she shouted, letting go of me, and jumping onto the rearing animal. I did just that, holding on for my life, as the creature shot forward at great speed, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

  “Looks like we might make it after all,” cried Alana, pressing her head against the beast’s fur.

  We traversed the scorching landscape till the suns sank into the horizon, painting the skies orange, pink and gold. The creature veered left and right, yielding to Alana’s forced steering. I knew we were on our way to our destination, but my stomach was empty, and my mouth and throat were as dry as our surroundings. I hoped against all hope we’d make it in time.

  A shape in the distance emerged. A tall stone spire stood alone. As we drew closer, I could see its bottom half was encircled by a high, rounded wall. Flags of various colors waved from ropes attached to its peak, which hung loosely down to all sides of the fortification.

  As we approached the town, my vision blurred. Mere meters from the dwarfing structure, the creature upon which we rode stopped. Alana slumped and slid off its back, collapsing on the ground. The beast reared, and I tumbled next to her, just as it galloped away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A sweet, smoky scent permeated my nostrils. I stirred and opened my eyes. Soft lighting from somewhere cast shadows on thick, crisscrossing wooden planks above. An array of pots, pans, sheets and dry plants hung from hooks fixed to them. A thin sheet covered my legs, and I seemed to lay on a hard bed.

  “Ugh…” I winced, bringing a hand to my head. Where am I? I thought.

  “You’re awake,” someone exclaimed with a croaky voice. I shifted and propped myself up on my forearm in the direction I’d heard the voice.

  “Where am I?” I groaned weakly.

  “In my home, of course. You’re in Frelig,” replied the female voice. “You were laying out there. Not a clever thing at night, of course. Lucky I was coming back and saw. You’d be eaten by now, of course. Brought you here, make you all better, of course.”

  A portly, ancient-looking woman hobbled toward me with her hands behind her back. She emerged from a room just off the one I was in. Her round face was almost completely covered in thick wrinkles, and I couldn’t see her eyes through her bushy, gray eyebrows. She wore a long, blue dress, around the waist of which various brown and yellow belts were tied. Around her neck hung what looked like bulbs, roots, and herbs.

  “Eat. You must eat for strength, of course. You come with me, yes. Your other one already eats. She doesn’t say much, of course.”

  Alana. She had collapsed as I had outside. I needed to see if she was okay. I threw the sheet off me, swung my feet round, and tried to get up, but my legs didn’t support my weight. I winced and sat back down.

  “Ay, ay. You were out there in the sun for a long, long time, of course. Very weak. Have to take things slow, of course. Come, with food you will get strength back, yes.”

  The elderly woman took hold of my arm and helped me to my feet. I didn’t understand why she insisted on shouting every word she spoke, but I was grateful for the help she was giving us. We walked inside the room where she’d come from.

  The cozy small space was round. To my right, there was a small fireplace inlaid into the white, stone wall. The blazing fire heated a large copper pot with boiling liquid inside. From the ceiling hung various herbs and plants, and from the opposite wall, various vegetables and fruits of different colors spilled down from their shelves, all likely contributing to the strange, sweet smell in the air.

  In the room's center there was a small, round table with two small wooden chairs. Alana sat on the left side, sipping a vaporous liquid from a crooked jade mug.

  “Ah, now, now, sit here, of course,” the elderly woman said, gesturing to the chair opposite Alana. “Good girl is all better. She’s drinking the taro. Here, here,” she continued, “I will pour you some, of course. Sit.”

  I walked over to the table and sat on the chair, as the woman hobbled over to the shelves, grabbed a mug, and made her way to the copper pot.

  “It’s terrible,” said Alana in a low tone. “Tastes like feet. But I do feel strangely better.”

  “Ah, that’s the taro root, of course,” said the elderly woman, approaching us. “Best medicine around. Best, best.”

  A look of embarrassment flashed in Alana’s face. The elderly woman cackled. “You are right—it is awful; everything good for you is, of course. Drink it all down, yes,” she said, handing me a mug as crooked as Alana’s.

  I brought it to my lips and hesitantly took a sip. It was gross. Like a cross between hard virian cheese and exo battery acid. Just as I screwed up my face and was putting the mug down in disgust, the elderly woman placed her hand at the base of it and pushed it back up to my mouth, until the putrid liquid went down my throat at an alarming rate.

  “That’s it, that’s it. All down, of course,” she said.

  Before I knew it, it was all gone, and it felt like my eyes were shriveling in their sockets. I slumped to the side and retched. I’d hoped to get that stuff out of me, to no avail. I wanted to wash my tongue clean, so wiped it using my fingers as fast as I could, to the amusement of Alana and the elderly woman. Amazingly, though, I felt brand new mere moments later.

  “So, when are we leaving?” I asked.

  “No, no, you must stay, of course. Stay for dinner,” said the elderly woman. I glanced at Alana, worriedly. If her food was anything like that tea stuff I wanted to be on the other side of the planet when it was served.

  “That is very gracious of you, Morigala, thank you, but we must get to the capital city as quickly as possible.”

  “Ah, young people are always drawn to the capital, of course. Never stay in towns like this.”

  “What is the fastest mode of transportation here?” asked Alana.

  The elderly woman, Morigala, rubbed her chin. “Fastest mode of transport, of course…” and after a moment, she replied, “That would be the Skatell. Yes, it delivers quite quickly, of course. Only used for deliveries and collections, but if you need it, old Tanhers won’t mind you hopping on, of course. Leaves before sundown.”

  Alana stood up, and said, “Could you take us there?” The threat of dinner still ringing in my ears, I stood up, too, ready to depart as quickly as possible.

  Old Morigala chuckled. “Take you? Of course, I will take you, yes. How else will you find it? Are you sure you won’t stay for din—”

  “We really have to go,” I interjected. “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” I shook her hand animatedly with both of mine, “but there are things to do, things to see, and we have to go right now.”

  “Seven,” said Alana, reprimanding me, “You are being rude.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said looking for the way out. “We need to go, don’t we? Well, I’m eager to get going, that’s all.”

  Old Morigala seemed to find this funny as she held her stomach with both her hands and doubled-up with raucous laughter. When finally she stopped, she said, “Come on, come on, I’ll show you the way, of course. It’s not far.” She turned and hobbled toward the room I’d lain in. She reached around the entrance and picked something up that looked like a shiny, copper belt.

  “My legs aren’t what they used to be, of course,” Morigala said, strapping it around her rotund waist. It clicked as she buckled it in place. No sooner had she done so that from each side materialized two flat mechanical copper rods that moved like arachnid legs. They at once clutched to the side of each of her legs and enveloped them i
n an ethereal, electric blue light.

  “Ah, much better, of course. We can now go. If you’re ready, of course.”

  She walked back toward us in two easy, fast strides. Far from hobbling, she now moved around with ease. She faced the bare side of the wall and placed her hand to the right. At once a square, yellow glow emanated from the section she was touching, and a door materialized in front of her, sliding up into the wall.

  Morigala turned to us, smiled and said, “Come on, slow bones, of course,” and walked outside.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  We rushed out after her. Ahead, a row of white, conical clay houses stood in a long curving row and was parallel to the row where Morigala’s own house was.

  She walked on with ease and sped through the yellow dirt road, toward a gap in the houses opposite.

  “We had better hurry, or we’ll lose her,” said Alana, and we both ran to catch up. Once through to the other side, the street opened into a vast, bustling, circular area, in the middle of which the enormous stone spire took the stage. Now up close, I saw it had five big, rectangular windows carved into it on different levels, each with a balcony. Between the windows, a large, red and white banner spiraled around it from its base to its tip.

  “Hurry,” cried Alana, fighting her way through the masses. Seeing so many species, of so many varied colors, sizes and shapes, made me miss the Sky Drifter as I’d known it.

  The odor that dominated the air caused my stomach to growl. It smelled of fried meats, of broths, of soups, of sweets, and baked goods, all mixing in my nostrils. Spread around were stalls upon stalls, all serving steaming, crackling, boiling foods and drinks that drove me to distraction.

  I couldn’t see Morigala anymore and just spotted Alana as she tried to keep up with her. We crossed the vast area to the opposite side and started up a slope that spiraled around and up the inner fortification.

  All along, more stalls lined the wall, with eager customers browsing the wares for sale, as owners of different races yelled out words in languages I couldn’t understand.

  We had almost reached the top when Alana stopped. When I caught up, she was standing in front of Morigala. As I panted, doubling over and resting my hands on my knees, she said, “This is old Tanhers’ scrap shop, of course,” signaling to a lonely ramshackle shack made of wood and corrugated iron. Various electronic and vehicle parts hung from the front and sides, and a large wooden sign above the wide entrance had ‘Tanhers’ carved into it.

  “He won’t want to take you, of course, but if you insist, he will eventually change his mind. He’s an old fool, of course, but a kind one.” With that, Morigala walked over to the shack and cried out, “Tanhers, you old fool, of course. Where are you?”

  From within, a gruff, crackly low voice, replied, “Who is it? What? Oh, is it you, Mori?”

  “Is it me? Who else is it going to be, of course?”

  A moment later, a short, stout elderly male stepped out from the shack. He was square-faced with no hair on his pale, gray head. A thick, wiry silver handlebar mustache hid the bottom part of his face and was the same length as his low, protruding brow, which cast a shadow over his eyes.

  Tanhers stood at the entrance of the shack, wiping black oil from his left, robotic arm with a cloth as dirty as his overalls.

  “Who are they, Mori? They want to buy something? Sell?”

  “Oh, they’re just drifters I found hanging around my place, of course.”

  “Drifters, eh? Well, why you bringin’ ‘em to me?”

  “Need to get to the city, of course. I told them you have the best and faster way to take them there. Can you help them, Tanhers?”

  “This is no tour service. If they want to go to the city, they can walk—they’re young enough.”

  “Please, Mr. Tanhers,” said Alana, taking a step toward him. “We need to get there as soon as possible. It’s a matter concerning the Morex.”

  “The what now?” said Tanhers, cupping his hand over the side of his small ear.

  “The Morex—they have made several attempts to invade Simia over the past few decades. The Morex,” Alana repeated, raising her voice as if Tanhers was short of hearing, which he seemed to be.

  He waved his hand at her, and said, “Bah. That’s nothin’ to do with me,” and headed back into the shack.

  “Stop right where you are, of course,” said Morigala in an even louder tone of voice. “Now, I’m not going to ask you do this for me, because all an old miser like yourself is interested in is bargains, so what I’ll do is tell you that you will help these lovely young people, or else. Of course.”

  Tanhers stood facing the shack, his back to us, and said, “Oh, yeah? Or else, what, you old crone?”

  “Or else no more scrabbler pie for you—ever again, yes.”

  Tanhers was silent for a moment, then gave a deflated sigh, and said, “I leave just before sundown. You better make sure you’re both ready to go.”

  Morigala turned to Alana and me. “There, I told you he was a sweetheart, of course. I’ll leave you in his hands, yes.” She leaned in toward us and whispered, “Make sure you’re not too nice to him, of course; it would go to his head and he’d become insufferable, yes.”

  With that, Morigala turned and dashed back down the spiral slope till I couldn’t see her anymore.

  ***

  Tanhers tinkered around with some things inside his shack, while Alana and I waited outside, unsure of what to say or do.

  “Do we go in there?” I asked her. “Maybe he’s forgotten we’re here.”

  “Maybe,” replied Alana, looking up at the sky. “It’s almost sundown.”

  From within the shack, Tanhers said, “Young people these days. Doesn’t matter where they’re from, they’re all as impatient as each other.”

  We both froze for a moment, and looked at one another. “Do you think he heard us?” I whispered.

  “I heard ya,” replied Tanhers, walking out of his shack toward us. “I may be old, but there’s nothin’ wrong with these ears”

  “But you’ve only got one,” I couldn’t help but say.”

  “Seven,” seethed Alana through her teeth.

  “But she told us not to be too nice to him,” I replied raising my shoulders.

  Tanhers guffawed. “That’s old Mori, alright.” He pointed to the side of his head with an ear, and said, “Platanium cochlear implant, boy. I can hear anything I want, from whatever distance I want. Now, come on, we’d better get goin’. I got to collect some parts just past the city. You’re lucky I’m headin’ that way.”

  “That, and that you like scrabbler pie,” quipped Alana, to my surprise.

  Tanhers chuckled to himself as he led us back down the busy slope. “Young people today.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  We reached the bottom, much slower than we had gone up, as Tanhers was not as quick as Morigala. Underneath the initial slope, we walked through a large circular gateway that led into a docking station.

  Parked vehicles of various sizes had their wares loaded or unloaded into square entrances along the walls. Once done, they took off by air or land. We ambled behind Tanhers, who led us to the far left side of the station, near the enormous, wide exit gate. The sun was setting, shining a bright orange light inside.

  “Here she is," growled Tanhers. “My pride and joy.”

  He walked up to a long, rusted brown ship which was narrow at the front, and had two rectangular carriages, one behind the other, slotted into the main frame. At the back was a singular round engine. I’d seen these land ships before, but they’d always been new models. This one looked as if it were ancient and ready to fall apart.

  “Guess you'd better get in, then,” he said, ambling up to the front of the ship. It was so narrow, I wondered how anyone, let alone him, could fit comfortably inside.

  “How are we supposed to fit in there?” I asked, skeptically.

  Tanhers chuckled again. “You ain't. You’re going in cargo,” he said, pointing at
the two carriages. Still chuckling to himself, he opened the cockpit door, whose windows were so filthy and caked in dry mud, that I wondered how he saw anything through them.

  The door opened vertically with a slight creak. Inside smelled like smoking badango, a plant native to Simia. The odor was so foul I had to hold my breath. Tanhers reached in and pressed a series of buttons. I heard something like metal groaning toward the carriages, followed by a ‘swoosh’ sound.

  “In yer get,” he chuckled.

  We made our way over to the back of the vehicle and stopped in front of the first one. Inside, loosely stacked metal rods were against the opposite blue wall, while the floor was littered with dust, conductors, and various harnesses.

  “Make yourselves comfortable. It shouldn't take more than a few hours,” said Tanhers.

  “After you,” I said to Alana. She looked at me, visibly unimpressed, and pushed me in. As soon as she had stepped inside, the door rattled for a moment and closed. We sat against the back wall. I was glad for the long horizontal window halfway up the door as I hadn’t been relishing the idea of being plunged into darkness for the duration of the trip. The carriage rocked as the sound of the back engine igniting roared from outside. We were off.

  The land ship blasted out through the large docking station gate, and into the cooling desert along magnetized rails that increased its speed tenfold.

  I stood and walked over to the window. The setting sun gave way to a myriad of stars, the two orbiting moons illuminating the shifting landscape.

  “What's the city like?” I asked.

  “I've never seen it,” replied Alana.

  I wondered how my life would be from then on. I felt uncertain as to where I would end up, or what would become of me. At that moment, watching the rolling hills, the thought scared me and wished I could just go back to how it all had been before Alana had revealed the truth.