“We are here to provide a lasting memory upon your journey.” He leaned back, and his yellow and green body swayed back and forth. He gestured to the assemblage and said, “You have made a lasting memory upon them. It is only customary we do the same.”
Syn pressed her lips together. “How come you all weren’t out yesterday morning for me? I said I was going to leave the night before. You even did that whole blessing thing.”
The Barlgharel leaned in and whispered, “From what I know of you, you’re never one to leave anything broken.” He turned and waved an appendage over the waiting Ecology. “Besides, neither you nor we were ready for it. I’m not sure we are wanting it this morning, but we are at least ready.”
“And how are you more ready now than yesterday?” She planted her spear on the cement ground and leaned against it, staring into the billowing smog and across the fading desert.
The Barlgharel swayed back and forth, “I think we are only ready because now we have taken up a place in your soul. Yesterday, we would’ve just been a memory. Now, we are a part of you.”
Syn could not answer that. Had the one day made that big of a difference? And how could he have known that?
Before she could reflect on his words, he leaned in and directed her gaze across the desert, to a single dot far up the rising edge of the Disc to her left. “That is your destination, little Expected Sunflier.”
“Is Blip there?” The words were out of her mouth before she thought them. And she felt reassured by them. Yesterday, she had been so lost in the work that her mind rarely drifted to him. The immediate challenges of fixing each of the bots seemed more real than the far away problem of his absence. Only last night, after she had curled up under the blankets in Arquella’s room and was certain the chrome bot had shut down for the night as it floated in the corner, only then had Syn allowed herself to face the emotion of his absence. He was not there, and she hated falling asleep without him near. It had been such a rarity, and now she was three nights without him. She had even navigated the terror of a nightmare without him. She did not want to get used his absence. She did not want the ache to stop. And yet, on that third night, it hurt a bit less. And inside, she hated herself for it.
“That is where he has been taken. I believe he is still there. That is Zondon Almighty, as the Crimson Queen has named it.”
Syn narrowed her eyes. “It’s darker over here, but I’m guessing that’s about nine kilometers away.”
The Barlgharel nodded. “9.9 to be precise. Your journey will be slow-going.”
“I can walk that in a couple hours.”
“Yes, but the dry ground, blowing dust, and the air itself will slow you down.”
Two smaller bots, both with large round cases that functioned as a body, each with one singular large eye in the center of their heads, and long, monkey-like arms draping near the ground, came walking out carrying an assortment of clothes.
The Barlgharel first picked up a pair of goggles. The rims were a bright gold, and the lenses were ruby-colored. They were the cleanest item she had seen on this side. “These will enable you to see if the wind devils strike.” He handed them to her, and she tried them on, turning the world red as she brought them over her eyes. She loved them. She lifted them up and rested them on the top of her head.
He held a red and gold-orange jacket and a scarf of the same colors. “These will keep you warm. Down here, Sunflier, it is much colder. Wear this and cover your mouth so you won’t grow sick as you move closer to Zondon.”
Syn tried on the jacket, lifting up her assortment of necklaces and slipping the collar underneath. The scarf she wrapped around her neck over the assortment of jewelry, and she let the ends hang down across the front of her body. She loved the colors. “Thank you.”
The Barlgharel turned to the Ecology below and said, “We have already blessed our friend’s journey. She is the Sunflier. The Expected One. And as she leaves, we expect her to return. Her journey is not just away. It is there and back to us.”
He led her down the stairs, and she found herself mobbed by the bots when she reached the bottom of the staircase. Most wanted to say goodbye. They nuzzled close, expecting hugs that she returned. Some tried to talk her out of the journey, but the Barlgharel shook his head each time.
She stepped to the edge of the Settlement, where the cement path ended, and the dead land lay beyond. In her world, this would be the edge of the jungle, and the world would be erupting in green, but nothing but blowing dirt, gray and soot-streaked, lay before her.
She turned and waved and several more spoke out as she did so. They all insisted that she return. She continually heard the mutter of “Expected” and cringed each time one of them spoke it.
She didn’t want to leave them. She gripped her spear tight, knowing that she had to leave but struggling to not be pulled back into the crowd. As her eyes welled up with tears, Syn blurted out, “I’ll come back.”
“Will you take us away from here? To the other world?” one bot shouted out from somewhere in the crowd. She couldn’t see how she could take them back to her Disc, but she understood why they wanted to leave this one. It was horrible. She felt the collective sense of hope, so she nodded in agreement. Finally, after being asked several more times as she waved goodbye, Syn finally declared aloud, “Yes. I promise.” She winced reflecting on that pledge—How can I keep that?
The Barlgharel drew closer. “We have one final gift to give, and we know we are still in debt to you for all you have done for us. But take comfort in this. A few of ours have offered to escort you to the gates of Zondon. We know that if you choose to step inside, they likely will not be allowed to enter, but they will not leave your side until then.”
Syn’s eyes went wide. Someone wanted to go with her? Out into that? “You sure? Who is that—” she had meant to say “who is that stupid?” but was interrupted by the whirring of Huck from out of the crowd, zipping around her head. Syn erupted into a smile. “Huck? Really?”
From behind her, someone coughed—a high-pitched sound. Bear and Arquella stood there. Bear started to speak, “We plan to go…”
Arquella interrupted, “It’s our honor to accompany the Expected.”
Syn went over to the two as Huck buzzed around. “You really sure? I’m not sure what’s out there.”
Bear spoke first and quickly, rushing to get his words out before Arquella interrupted again. “Neither do we, but we’re going. You need us.”
Syn nodded. That might be true. “Okay, then. Let’s get going.”
The Barlgharel slithered forward, “One last thing. Beware the Hazards.”
“Huh?” Syn said, adjusting her pack around her shoulders. It felt heavier this morning that normal.
The bots of the Ecology had gone quiet at his mention of the Hazards.
“I’m not sure what you might find, but you might draw the attention of some of the monsters of the Disc. There are wild things out there—some quite monstrous—and they prowl throughout Nod.”
Syn furrowed her eyebrows. “Like animals?”
“Yes, they are quite like animals. Vicious and territorial. But no. They are not made of the Sun. They are like the walls and houses. They are things made to look real, but there is no love in them. There is no spark of intelligence in them. They think only of death. And it may be that you can venture from here to there without encountering one. But beware when you do. Be careful. Keep alert at all times. Do not detour from your course.”
Syn nodded, perplexed at this new, unknown threat. For the first time in a day, anxiety began to well up in her. Oh Blip, why did we ever come here?
Hidden amongst the gray miasma, the settlements stood toward the darkness with their curved facades—attempts to portray an unnatural world as organic.
She turned and strode out into the barren landscape, giving only a wave this time. Behind her followed her friends.
26
Nod
“I have always loved the desert.
One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams…”
—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
The Desert of Olorun had been an accident. Nod was the name the Barlgharel had given it. It was not the apotheosis of all deserts. Syn could see the drained image of its borders—the rise of the settlements—from where she walked. It was not grueling hot. In fact, it lent itself to blasts of cold air that forced her to hunker down against the few dunes, and more often, behind Bear himself, as the wind passed by. It was not the lovely pure sand of the Sahara she’d seen in action films—this was not an ocean of sand. The tangled roots of the fallen trees and the cluttered stalks of weeds littered the ground and tripped her more than once. She tasted the sand in these moments, falling and unable to catch her groggy self. She sucked the dirt in short bursts and then spit it out. It was bitter and not just the salty dryness of regular sand. It looked like a desert when descending on the Jacob or scanning from atop the settlements, but up close, stepping across its pocked surface, it was the landscape of nightmares—distorted and tired with enough hint of life to suggest torture rather than survival.
At first, as she ventured out, a few of the bots circled behind in her wake, but with every step, more and more fell behind until it was only her and her three-bot entourage making the trek. Half a kilometer into her journey, she wrapped the scarf around her mouth and pulled her goggles down. The gifts were already useful. Looking back at the settlements, and the Cradle hidden somewhere within the monolithic rises, the dirt had kicked up so that she could see nothing of the collected bots. Or perhaps they had all fled back indoors, fearful of the burlys. And the Hazards, whatever those were.
In the last hour, she was certain she heard new voices twice. The bots? Perhaps it was Bear and Arquella whispering. She smiled—she was sure it was not burlys; they didn’t seem to talk at all. And for some reason she pictured the Hazards as screaming their arrival rather than whispering.
Huck continued to zoom around but stayed near her, never venturing far off. Bear rolled across the rough landscape next to her, and Arquella floated on the opposite side. The four ventured forward against the elements, without talking. She could only guess at the fears racing through their minds—perhaps the unknown Hazards, or more likely, the prospect of Zondon Almighty.
Syn paused to rest, planting her spear in the ground and steadying herself against it. She sighed. She had been overconfident. This was her ship. This Disc was the same size as hers. But she didn’t have an Ogun here. Nor did she have the freedom to flounce in whatever direction she desired as the queen, doing as she willed without question.
Now she walked, in pursuit of a city she had never entered. Despite the blowing dirt and the strangeness of the landscape, Syn had the bizarre sense that she knew where Zondon Almighty was located.
Occasionally, she would stop and look around, sure she was being watched. A few times, Huck would zip up above, possibly to gain a better vantage point, and she would catch his darting movement from the corner of her eye. Each time, she went tense—if she could see him, perhaps others could.
After a few hours, she held up a hand and motioned for the others to rest near a large dune. They followed her, and she sat back against it, bracing herself and enjoying the break in the blowing wind that it provided. Arquella dropped to the ground in front of her, and Bear rolled beside her.
“Everything okay?” Arquella asked.
Syn nodded. “Just thirsty.” Syn pulled out a small canister of water she had filled up in Arquella’s home. There was not much in it, and she knew if they didn’t keep going, she wouldn’t have enough to make the trip if there were delays and this trip stretched beyond a day.
Huck descended and rested atop Bear’s square frame.
The four sat in silence as Syn drank and rested. Syn remembered the weight of her pack and opened it up to discover several apples inside. Syn ate one and closed her eyes, listening to the hiss of the wind.
“Tell me about your friend,” Bear said.
Syn opened an eye and shot him a glance. “Blip?”
“Ya. The one we going for. He sure must be special for you to do this.”
Arquella added, “Is he special?”
Syn took a deep breath. “He’s special. He’s…my best friend. I haven’t known a day that he wasn’t near me. He’s always been there to help me. And guide me.” She chuckled. “He wasn’t a patient teacher, but he did teach me. And he put up with me. He would sit next to me when we watched movies, even if I insisted we watch them over and over. We would lose days in the theater, and he’d stay with me. And then he’d act out the scenes with me.” She laughed aloud. “I’d always have to give him the part with the least lines. He was a horrible actor. He could never get the lines right. And he’s a…” Syn had meant to say “bot” but caught herself. Remember who you’re talking to. “And he’s got a great memory. I don’t know if he ever forgot any line. But he’d do it. For me. When I was younger, I made him put on stupid costumes. And he’d do it! He’s Blip. I love him!” Syn surprised herself as a small tear rolled down her cheek.
Bear said, “I’d like to have a friend like that.”
“Me too,” Arquella said.
Syn glanced between the two and said, “Well maybe the two of you could be each other’s.”
The two looked at each other and then back to Syn but didn’t say a thing.
Syn stood, flung her pack over her shoulder, and picked up her spear. “Huck, point the way.” She pulled down her goggles, wrapped the scarf around her face, and they set off again into the blowing dust. Around her the sand whipped and spun, forming images in the air. Syn imagined seeing the figures of the dead drifting through the dust.
More hours passed, and the looming dot of Zondon Almighty grew much larger and dropped lower, approaching the horizon, as they drew closer. Although sometimes occluded by the billowing sand and the haze of this world, the dot grew into the small shape of a city. Soon, Syn realized she recognized the location. The more she thought about it, she knew where Zondon Almighty had to be placed. Obviously, from a scan, there was no great tree on this Disc. It had been removed. Or it had never been. Yet, the great tree had been the center of Syn’s Disc—of Syn’s world. And she knew it had been so for the colonists. She had read the works of one of the builders who was also a professor. He had argued not just to put a park in the center but to put in a jungle and to build the entire structure around the world of the green, around the central tree.
Yet on this Disc, there was no tree. Just Zondon. She was sure of it, and as they neared where her tree should be, the first signs of the city appeared, the edge of it rose up above the decline of dunes—the top of a tin and plaster and wood city. This was Zondon Almighty. Its silhouette was not presented in profile yet, but instead, they viewed it as if from a great height, seeing both its rise and the top of its structures, a sight afforded by the arc of the Disc upward and away. With each passing second, Syn was certain she had visited Zondon before. There was something in its arrangement that seemed familiar. Even from far away, still a couple kilometers ahead of the them, its construction had been an amalgamation of different structures. The walls and roofs seemed cobbled from various materials. The colors were all variations of gray and rust. Gray and rust streaked doors. Gray chimneys. Rust-colored stairs in a circle of a tower. Rusting railings along a lookout at the top of that tower. Some gray shadows moving back and forth across the tops of the buildings.
And all around that stood a great gray and rust-splattered wall. From her vantage point, she could see there were two layers of the wall—in this world it was evident the inhabitants couldn’t be too careful. Painted along the outside of the walls were horrific visages. Paint-smeared faces glared at them with dark eyes. From where she stood, the details were lost. All that she perceived was the fearful warning the faces with the glaring eyes and hungry smiles projected. They were far less distinc
t than the Orisha masks mounted on the towers above and were far less inviting. The Orisha masks seemed to have arrived from the ancient past—monuments to the persistent gods they represented. The faces scrawled on the outside of Zondon seemed conjured from somewhere dark—fleeting images that threatened to rush out at them if they all but glanced away.
In the center of the city a tower ascended—a set of two spires jutting up from the center of the city. Visual priority was a huge advantage. The tower had a broad base and narrow top, and as she moved closer, she could see a tiny ladder fastened to its side.
As they walked, Syn whispered to herself. “Blip, I’m coming.”
Her curiosity pulled her forward. She had to know what had happened here. There were people here. She had seen them as they stole Blip. For the first time, she was to meet real people and not just videos of the dead. Perhaps, people that could answer her. Her thoughts raced and the thousand questions she had ignored flooded in. What had they dug up? Could they provide insight to a world that they hadn’t seen? Who had started all this? Someone had begun the Madness, someone had started up Syn’s crèche and woken her, someone had killed off the majority of occupants, and someone had switched the dumb bots over here on. Who? Why? Why launch a ship and let it be consumed by death? So many questions. Maybe the answers weren’t in Zondon Almighty, but they might start there. And Blip was there.
“Watch out!” Bear shouted.
Syn froze, her eyes unable to find him in the blowing sand. “What?”
A huge metallic claw slammed into the sand in front of her, and Syn fell backward, landing hard on the ground.
“Run away!” Arquella screeched from somewhere behind her.
What was it? But the answer didn’t stay hidden for long. In front of her, a massive, gigantic form encased in a charcoal shell, nearly hidden in the darkness of the early afternoon, rose up out of the sand. The thing stood three meters above Syn. Dirt, rocks, and the trash of the former inhabitants fell from its insect-like body, raining down around Syn. A narrow head atop a two-portioned body that pivoted on top of six legs glared down at her.
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