Avia shook her head. “She’s dead.”
The danger had passed, and Syn sorted through the recent memories. “My tree?”
Avia sat down, and Syn saw that they were in the dining hall of the Zoo. The walls were pale and revealed that no one had lived here for quite some time, but it wasn’t the charred corpse of a place that had been Zondon.
The room was filled with members of the Ecology. Huck buzzed above, and Arquella floated at the end of the bed. The Barlgharel was notably absent.
Next to her, Eku purred. Syn scratched her head, pushing her fingers into the deep fur. The great cat’s chin was still blood-stained. Syn turned back to Avia and asked again, “My tree?”
Avia shook her head. “It’s gone. She burned it. We couldn’t stop it in time.”
Syn took a deep breath, and the acrid smell of the fire still tainted the air. Syn’s deepest fears were realized. Neci burned everything she touched. “Why? How?”
Avia pushed back as a blue, square medic bot pushed forward, examining Syn’s leg. They always swarmed to a disaster, and so rarely had Syn needed them. She needed them today.
“Your leg is broken. I think a few ribs too. They said you’ll heal. These doctor bots are amazing.”
“How did you get away from her?”
Avia lowered her eyes to the ground.
Syn leaned in, “Please.”
“I couldn’t sleep. Everything was too loud. The machines…bots, I mean. The insects. I heard Eku stand up and leave and something in me just followed after. I trailed her out into the jungle. She saw me lagging behind, and I was scared she’d attack, but she didn’t. She let me tag along. We kept walking for a long time until we heard you scream. We turned and saw the flames above the trees, and of both us came running.”
“Thank you. She was going to kill me.”
“She had your clothes on. She had changed her hair.”
Syn nodded. Disturbing. In a flash, Syn sat up, “Where’s Blip? I thought I saw…”
Avia stood to hold Syn back. “He’s—”
“Where’s Blip? I can’t lose him again!”
“Syn, he’s not—”
“What? Where is he? What did she do to him?” Syn hopped off of the table they had laid her on, but her own weight was too much for her weak leg. She stumbled and fell forward.
In front of her, on the stone floor, lay the shattered body of Blip. His white shell was no longer curled around him. He himself was removed from the shell, and the blue glow was gone. There was no longer the resemblance of a cracked egg around his form. Instead, his shell was burst into a hundred small shards. The pieces were laid-out on a rough blanket.
Syn crawled to him and wrapped her arms around the shattered shell. She cried and mumbled, “Blip. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed here. We shouldn’t have gone. I’m sorry.”
The sobs became whimpers and then became deep gulping breaths.
Avia laid a hand on Syn’s shoulder. “We tried to get every piece of him. Bear and the others knew he was important.”
“How did she do it?”
Avia shrugged. “She’s killed many companions. She knows where they’re weak.”
“But I’ve seen one crash hard from far above and not break.”
Avia ran her hand across the split pieces of Blip. Through the hole, Blip’s inner-machinery was exposed—a tightly-packed collection of cables, chips, boards, and pieces neither of them had ever seen before. The layers closest to the surface had been smashed and several wires hung loose. “She always said to hit them from behind. They were weakest there. It’s how she killed Puck. She surprised him and smashed him with a rock when he wasn’t looking. Said that they could be opened up there. I think she discovered it when she found that room with all the plans—I remember seeing some drawings of these guys.”
Syn wiped her nose on her sleeve. Her arms were still caked with dried blood—some hers and some Neci’s. “They can be opened up?”
“Ya, pretty sure.”
Syn’s eyes went wide. “I saw one fall like a meteor.”
“I know. You said that. Laoule’s. Spot.”
Syn sat straight up and grabbed Avia by the shoulders. “He’s still here! He’s in my workshop!” She pointed at Bear and Arquella. “Help me! Can you get some others to bring all of Blip?”
The hours of repair work drifted by, and Syn lost all track of time. Avia had been correct—there was an access panel. Syn was surprised by how easily it opened. The damaged companion, the one that had first drawn them into this entire thing, lay on one table and Blip lay on the other.
Her first entry into her workshop brought a rush of emotions, and she cried again. However, time counted down. Blip had an organic brain. TyTech. The longer he was inoperative, the closer that tissue came to dying, if it was not already too late. She brushed the tears away often and continued.
As she worked, first in a panic, she found herself muttering to herself, “10. 9. 8. 7.” Blip was broken—was possibly near or at death—so she had to work the mantra herself. She felt calmer but there was something missing. Blip’s voice perhaps.
She had pulled each of the internals out on both Spot and Blip, disconnecting the core elements from the external shell. Huck and Arquella were uniquely helpful, as was Avia. Bear, not so much. But he did work to go back and forth, bringing food and water. Occasionally, Eku would wander in, moving between the girls, expecting pets and then would meander back out, never moving far away, keeping a close watch.
Syn attempted to stand and support her weight, but her leg could not handle much and she spent most of her working time sitting. The hours passed in silence except for when she gave directions as needed.
“Huck, shine a light here.”
“Avia, could you see if there’s a board like this from Spot?”
“Arquella, can you do some quick math for me?”
Spot was beyond gone. Time had passed and so had hope for his recovery. The goal now for Syn was to take the core parts of Blip and get them into Spot’s shell, replacing the missing and destroyed pieces with those she could salvage from the latter. The two companions were the most intricate bots she had ever worked on. She had never seen such a tightly compacted, organized internal system. The work was daunting and tedious.
Avia and the bots soon began to talk, getting past their own discomfort with each other.
“You’re not scared of me?” Avia had asked.
Arquella shook her head, “No. Should we be?”
“But I look just like Neci.”
“Is that the one who did this?”
Avia nodded.
Huck gave a chirp that sounded like a laugh.
Arquella replied, “I think she’s the devil. She looks like the devil.”
Syn and Avia both turned suddenly at that, their eyebrows raised in a similar reaction. Avia said, “We all look the same.”
Arquella rotated in the air. “Who looks like her?”
Syn said, “Avia and I. We look like Neci.”
Bear wobbled in. “Na. You don’t look anything like her. She’s glows red. She glows like the devil herself. You two are bright blue and glorious.”
Arquella added, “Not sure what you two are looking at.”
Avia and Syn had let it go at that, confused by the bots’ reaction.
Hours passed, and Syn was down to the final work. The large TyTech strip—a piece that resembled brain tissue and a thousand tiny nerves embedded in a clear plastic tube—pulsed in her hands. The organ was far larger than any she had seen in any other bot, and she handled it with care, asking Avia to assist as she moved it from Blip’s shattered shell to the newly formed companion composed of Blip’s and Spot’s internals and Spot’s shell. The TyTech brain would be the addition that would make this newly formed companion truly Blip.
When everything finally fit together, Syn sealed the hatch. The reassembled Blip, his shell scuffed and dirty, was whole. On the other table, the old shell, damaged pieces, and unneed
ed elements from Spot were stacked. In the center was the dried-out TyTech brain of Spot, still in its tube, grayed over, shriveled, and rotting.
Syn ran a finger along Blip’s new outside but nothing happened.
Minutes passed and still nothing happened.
An hour later, Syn still waited.
“Please go,” she finally told the others, two hours after the final assemblage had been completed.
Avia hugged her. Syn didn’t move. Instead, she sat in the embrace, head on the metal table where Blip rested.
Again, Syn said, “Just go. Please.”
They all shuffled out, leaving Syn alone with Blip’s unmoving shell.
When she was sure they were all gone, Syn said, “I did something wrong. I know I did. I could fix all of them. Put them all back together. But somehow, I couldn’t fix you. I don’t know how I couldn’t have done it right, but I didn’t. I somehow missed it. It’s just me Blip. I’m the broken one. I’m the one that messes up everything else. All you’ve done your entire life was help me make the right decision, and I never could. I made us go over there. I went to Zondon. I told Neci my secret. It’s all my fault. Kerwen’s dead. So many bots died. And my tree is gone. And you’re dead. And I can’t fix you.” The words were broken with huge, deep sobs, and Syn no longer cared if she wiped her tears. They flowed from her cheeks, rinsing the blood of her and the Sisters away, dripping onto the metal table next to Blip.
Quietly, beside her, a familiar voice spoke, “I didn’t want you to find them.”
Syn sat, her mouth dropped open. “Blip?”
The voice shifted in tone, as if trying to find the right level, “You’re mine, and I knew what they were doing. Olorun told me. She said they had blocked her out. That’s all. I’m sorry.”
“Blip! You’re alive!” Syn grabbed him and pulled herself to him, holding tightly.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I should’ve told the truth. If I had, maybe you wouldn’t have raced over there if you knew. I didn’t know how bad it was. I promise. I just…”
“What are you talking about?” Syn asked through a new wave of tears.
“I didn’t want to lose you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard you. You were blaming yourself. It’s my fault. I just knew what would happen.”
“You were right! I should’ve listened to you.”
“I should’ve told you.”
“I just didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t understand.”
“You weren’t alone.”
“I know. I never was. You were always there. You were always next to me. You never left me.”
“I always will be.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
The two stayed like that, pressed close together, muttering apologies and declarations for quite some time before finally leaving to join the others and to show the newly awakened Blip off.
As they left, Syn said, “How do you like your new body?”
Blip sighed, “It’s okay. Bit dinged up, but I’ll try to get that fixed.”
“We almost lost you.”
“I know. Thank you. You saved me.”
“You saved me. In the Jacob lift. And before—in the room when the Sisters came for you.”
“But you came looking for me. You rescued me.”
Syn wrapped her arm around him once more as they walked. “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”
“Always,” he chirped, “Forever.”
46
Burial of a Goddess
Iku ti yo pani ki i peni loruko.
“The death that will kill a person
does not call the person by name.”
—Yorùbá Proverb
The ripe, rolling smell of decay churned under thick, moist soil filled Syn’s nose.
In the dark cavern of the body farm, she and Avia stood. The two had changed clothes and cleaned themselves, washing away the grime and blood of the last several days. Syn kept her hair free, allowing it to billow in a cloud about her head. Avia had asked for Syn to help braid her hair tightly, and she found a thin, simple dress in one of the settlements and wore that. Syn had returned to her normal attire of a motley collection of shirts and layers and a dozen necklaces about her neck.
At their feet, naked and covered in sparse chunks of mud and dirt, lay the body of their sister Neci. Her dark skin melted into the night of the dirt.
Behind them, their friends gathered. Huck and Blip floated, careful to keep their movements still. Further back, the Barlgharel, Bear, and Arquella stood as silent sentinels in the somber scene.
Eku plodded close and stood between the two girls, nuzzling each in turn.
Syn stared at Neci’s closed eyes. She imagined those eyes opening and Neci’s hands reaching out for her, to pull her back down into the dirt. It was an image she knew would find its way into her dreams.
“I miss her,” Avia said.
Syn nodded. She had seen funerals in the movies. People stood quiet and somber. There was someone who read from Psalms. Syn had passages memorized, but nothing came to mind. There were no words that fit this moment.
Neci was the tyrant of an entire world, and her surviving sisters stood remembering her. What line, what poem, could manage this? There was none.
“We never held a funeral for the others,” Avia said.
Syn’s stomach tightened, and her distaste for Neci grew. They had never held a funeral because they had consumed the others. There were no dead bodies left around, no bodies to bury. They had all been used to keep the others alive. Because Neci had chosen it.
“That tradition ends with her,” Syn said. She leaned down and picked up a clod of dirt. It felt cold and unruly in her fingers. Chunks fell off as she brought up her hand. With a slow motion, she crumbled it across Neci’s body.
With a whisper, she said, “Good-bye.”
Syn and Avia left the body farm and the corpse of Neci behind them. In the years to come, her body would dissolve and reintroduce potassium, nitrogen, calcium, magnesium, and a host of other chemicals and minerals into the crops managed by the farm bots. Those crops would be consumed by the animals roving the Disc above.
At the Jacob lift back up top, Huck, Bear, Arquella, Blip, and the Barlgharel waited for the two girls and Eku to return. Syn, Avia, and the tiger joined their new family to return to the base.
As the doors shut, Syn asked, “Could we stop and pick some apples?”
Avia added, “And could you teach me to swim after that?”
Syn grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly in answer.
The doors shut, and the family rose up to the surface above.
47
Arrival
“The stars, that nature hung in heaven,
and filled their lamps with everlasting oil,
give due light to the misled and lonely traveler.”
—John Milton
Kapteyn’s Star slid toward the horizon, painting the resurrected ocean waves in somber hues of red and orange. The old star filled nearly an eighth of the sky when overhead. As it set, it appeared to spark the entire sky aflame.
On the banks of the Kerwen Ocean, past the lights of the first city to take root upon Àpáàdì, the thin, tall Avia, second of the two queens of this rebirthed world, listened to the heartbeat of the ocean with her eyes closed. The crimson light of Kapteyn’s Star reflected from her ebony skin like she was a mirror. The crash of the waves against the glass shores beat out a rhythm that she soaked into her soul, savoring each note.
“You’re late,” Avia said, eyes still closed and her smile wide.
Behind her, the first queen and the first human to set foot upon this planet, Syn of Paradise and Expected of the Ecology, laughed, “He wouldn’t stop talking. I didn’t want to be rude.”
“Wasn’t he the one to give the speech tonight?” Avia, stepped back, the wind whipping the folds of her white dress.
Syn stepped alongsid
e her and took a deep breath. In the setting sun, her white hair glowed like a halo around her head. “I think he likes to make them wait.”
Somewhere around the edge of the outcrop, the sharp sound of children laughing came, bouncing across the churning waves.
“I would not want to stand before a million citizens, bot or human.”
Syn nudged her sister. “You wouldn’t want to stand and talk in front of three people, let alone a million.”
As if on cue, behind them, echoing through the streets of Ayanmo City, the Barlgharel’s voice announced, “Today, from far across the cerulean seas, from beyond the Kerwen Ocean’s lapping beaches, far inland through the burgeoning forests, from city to city to city, those translated through the heavens by Olorun herself, the members of the Ecology and the sons and daughters of the Expected, we once again celebrate our landing upon our home Àpáàdì. Today, we all lift our voices and celebrate the Day of Arrival!”
The cheers of the crowd went up, and although quite a distance beyond the city’s borders, Syn and Avia warmed to the sound. Avia reached over and probed for Syn’s hand, and finding it, gripped tightly. The two mothers of this world stood together, fingers interlaced, and remembered the catalog of years that had collected since they first met under that disheveled roof before a makeshift throne.
Syn whispered, “I’ve heard versions of the tale hundreds of times now, and it still seems unbelievable.”
As Kapteyn’s Star fell below the horizon, the evening lights of civilization’s footprints sparkled into view. Far away, a dozen twinkling buildings turned on—another city, the great nautical construction of Lyemọnja, transitioned into the night, likely preparing for their own holiday festivities.
Avia opened her eyes and focused on the towers rising up in the early twilight across the water. “There’s not enough nights to tell every part of the story. I’m beginning to even forget those first days here.”
The Ecology showed profound imagination when settling their new world. The masses gathered across the globe had swelled from their decimated numbers after their first exodus out of the dark Disc. Their numbers grew as they encountered the bots of Syn’s Disc. Slow change bloomed over time for Syn’s bots. Conversation showed the first changes. But over the years, as they interacted with the Ecology, the virus of intelligence spread, and they all awoke. Freedom and sentience brought its own challenges. The Ecology worked through each, and ultimately, the civilization that inhabited Olorun was only an echo of the humanity that had launched it. What set foot on Àpáàdì was not what the humans had planned for it. From those first steps, the bots grew their population, explored the crevices of their new world, and put down the foundations for their towering cities.
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