Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part Three

by Nōnen Títi

  In front of her door sat a woman, obviously waiting for someone to come home. Daili’s first thought was Tikot, but no; if he were ill, they wouldn’t sit down and wait. She slowed her pace when she began to realize who this must be. For a fraction she even considered turning around to pretend she’d not come home yet, but by that time Leni had seen her and stood up.

  Nothing in the woman before Daili reminded her of the little girl who’d been her best friend. Nothing indicated whether or not Leni was nervous about this encounter. The first words were hesitant, confirming who they were, just mentioning each other’s name. Daili invited her in.

  All initiative came from Leni and within what could have been no more than an hour, it was like they’d known each other all their lives. It wasn’t the connection of the past, but that of two women in a similar situation – the journey and worries about children – that made it easy.

  Leni had recognized her name, but she had only been sure after Daili brought Rorag to her at the trefin. She’d asked around. She had known Jema since SJilai’s second year.

  “She came to me a few days ago and admitted she’d not been able to keep quiet about what I told her. She worried about your reaction. I figured it was wrong for me to tell her to solve her problems while being aware of our own past, so this morning I decided it was time I came to you,” she said.

  “Benjamar and I were intending to come to you soon. I’m afraid I told him about it, too.”

  Leni knew who Benjamar was but didn’t understand his involvement, and that immediately opened the door for the most difficult issue in their past. Somehow, Daili’s imagination had neglected to consider that Leni would have also grown up and could see the situation in a different light; she showed no anger or sadness, just a calm understanding. “It won’t help anybody to live with guilt or resentment. Blaming either others or yourself for what happened so long ago only causes hurt. We have a chance to start over. Maybe we should try that.”

  “I would like that.”

  When Leni left to go home, Daili cried for a while out of sheer happiness, because of everything that had changed in the last few days.

  On the second last day of Station Four, Daili came home early to make some notes about the seawater idea. She had prepared Sunya as best she could and agreed that they’d take some time off before the expedition. Tomorrow night she’d be having her little party. She’d been afraid, at first, that Benjamar would refuse because of the memories it would bring, but he’d promised to come. He also agreed to the “no politics” idea for the evening, seeing the elections were only two days away. Branag and Tini would come as well, but Daili wasn’t sure about their kids. She didn’t want to push it. Jema would come a little earlier so they could finally talk.

  Happy with that prospect, Daili sat down to write. It was too early to put the fire on and she was quite hot still from the walk – who knew; maybe the weather was improving. She tried to concentrate on making some valid test schedule to prove her idea, but her mind was busy with too many other things. Not just the party, but the renewed friendship with Leni. She stood up twice for a drink and once to go to the excretorial, but still had no idea where to start. Her stomach cramped, but that wasn’t unusual after a stressful situation had been resolved. Kalgar had apologized for leaving her in the dark about her request; apparently Benjamar had a go at him as well, and all that for one night of crying. Life was good again thanks to him.

  “It’s good I came home early,” she told herself after the second trip to the recess. That never happened anymore; lately she’d gone once every four days; they all had, and they were never hungry anymore. It was probably all the water she’d been drinking.

  Smiling to herself, Daili went to her mat to lie down for a bit. Kalim was right; she didn’t need to work because the time of the day dictated it. If the seawater was good for consumption today, so it would be tomorrow.

  For the first time, Daili truly believed that she’d made the right choice. Anni would have all she needed at Marita’s; she’d be almost a woman now. One day Daili might have grandchildren on DJar as well as on Kun DJar. She’d never know, but it was nice to dream a bit. And she had followed her own dream.

  She let the tiredness take her; in her mind she walked in the light of Kun. The voices of town were vague and far away. The Kun DJar landscape became lush and warm the way Telemer had been. It was peaceful as she walked closer and closer to the big star which illuminated her home. This was where she belonged now.

  Immobilized

  Wilam collected his food from the distribution centre before going home. Pina would be waiting, their metal tray heated and ready to cook the little rolls. She was very particular about that and she wouldn’t be happy that he was late, but Wilam had been held up by Tigor and his friends.

  Tigor was fed up. Wilam could understand that – never before had farming been this much hard work – but Tigor took it as a personal failure that the crops didn’t want to grow. He wasn’t open to reason. He needed proof of his achievement even if he had to steal that proof from the scientists, and Wilam was going to help whether he wanted to or not.

  Wilam didn’t want to; he’d tried to argue that they should wait until after the elections, but he had been alone against six of them. How would he tell Pina that he had to go out again tonight? What if she heard later and reported Wilam for breaking into the light boxes? What if he got a warning like Kolyag? Suppose he ended up in prison? The shame of it! Especially today, on Kristag’s birthday…

  It had been a puzzle to work out exactly how old his son was. On SJilai they had just taken the same date he’d been born in the year before, but Pina had worried because Kristag seemed behind in his development to what the print said he should be. When Elsa had remembered that a SJilai year was shorter than a DJar year, Wilam had added up all the days of Kristag’s life so far and concluded that they should have celebrated his first birthday around the time they’d reached orbit and that Kristag’s DJar age should change on the first day of every Kun DJar season – once every two stations. So, at the start of Station Three they had celebrated Kristag’s second birthday with Kolyag and Elsa and their two children. They had worried that he was still behind until, after the storm, Flori had reminded them that the days were only half as long as on DJar.

  Thus, Kristag had only been one-and-a-half years old at his second birthday and not until today was he actually turning two; today was his real birthday and even if nobody would come to visit anymore, Pina and Wilam had decided to throw a party for their son. Only now, Wilam was late.

  As he was kicking off his dirty boots outside the door, the man who used to be his friend came out of the home next door and immediately turned his back.

  Wilam went inside, put down the food, and threw his coat on a chest. Kristag came toddling up to greet him, reaching up to be lifted. Wilam spun him around above his head until Kristag squealed with laughter, over and over again.

  Only then did it occur to Wilam that Pina had not cautioned him to be careful, nor had she taken the food to start cooking it. She was sitting in the corner, looking pale. The clothing she’d been working on lay in a heap on the floor. She’d recently taken to learning this new skill to turn some of their own old clothes into new ones for Kristag; she needed to, with him growing bigger and the new baby on the way. Wilam hoped for a girl. “What is it? Are you tired?” he asked Pina.

  “No.”

  “Is it the baby?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you want to eat?”

  “No.”

  “Should I get Irma or some medicine?”

  But Pina just wanted to rest on her mat. She’d not been able to until Wilam could watch Kristag.

  Wilam cooked up the food as well as he could and ate together with his son. When he went to check on Pina, she was red and hot.

  “I’m going to be sick,” she said.

  She leaned on him on the way to the excretorial. She was in pain.

  “I
think we need to go to the clinic,” he told her, worried that it was something to do with the baby. This wasn’t SJilai, where the infirmary had been nearby. Tigor would never forgive Wilam if he didn’t show tonight, but his family had to come first.

  With a jerk, Pina suddenly vomited. She sank to the floor, miserable, and ended up in the middle of the puddle, which had splattered over Wilam’s legs; she’d lost her bowels, too.

  “Stay here! I’m going to get help.” Wilam lifted Kristag from the floor, pulled his coat around them, and ran all the way to the clinic. Kristag moaned and complained. “My comate is sick. I need help. She’s pregnant and can’t walk,” he told the man at the door.

  Within moments, four men were summoned from inside. They had a carry mat and some tools and prefab material with them and started to run as soon as Wilam told them where to find Pina. He had to run alongside them, still carrying Kristag, who was now crying.

  Pina had not moved from where he’d left her; she was hardly conscious. Two men lifted her, their hands and faces covered with plastic. A third man pushed the mat underneath her, while the last took the water container from the backroom and threw the remainder over the messy floor. He then told Wilam to step outside following the carry mat.

  It all went so fast that Wilam did as they said without asking, even when two of the men took the piece of prefab and hammered it in front of the door to block the entrance. “Get yourself washed up good and stay out of there. Don’t eat or drink anything,” they ordered him as they lifted the carry mat and started walking away.

  “Why not? I mean, I need to come with her. She may be having the baby,” Wilam said.

  “Nobody is allowed in the clinic and keep the child away.”

  Wilam stared after them. Not allowed in his home or in the clinic?

  Elsa came out. She’d seen the men. He told her what they’d said.

  “Come in and get washed. I’ll take Kristag,” she said.

  Wilam didn’t want to go inside Kolyag’s home, but he did let Elsa take the kicking and crying boy out of his arms.

  “At least do as they say and get yourself washed,” she said.

  Unsure of where to go, Wilam walked back to the town centre. They couldn’t tell him not to be with Pina. In the fading light he saw the mat-carriers again, but they were going the wrong way and the mat was empty.

  The man in front of the clinic stopped him. “Nobody is going in.”

  “But my comate–” Wilam started. He took a step forward, and then noticed the immobilizer in the man’s hands. This was not normal; not for Kun DJar. “What’s going on?” he yelled.

  The door was opened from within and the guard had to step out of the way to let more men out. Wilam caught a glimpse of a child on the floor and people stepping over it in a hurry. He heard noises too – shouting and crying. He panicked. “I have to go to Pina.” He had taken two steps toward the door before the guard noticed him.

  Wilam woke up with a pounding headache and the feeling that his mouth was glued shut. He wanted to get up to have a drink, to shake the bad dream, but when he tried, a shooting pain in his chest stopped him.

  “Take it easy.”

  Over him was the silhouette of a man with a beard, standing in front of a window bathed in light. “Who are you?” Wilam asked.

  “Yako. You’re at my home. You got hit with an immobilizer yesterday. Maike brought you here to recover.”

  Unable to resist, Wilam let the man push him back. A picture of the guard from his dream came to mind. “Why?”

  “Can you remember anything of what happened?” the man asked. He had very short hair and wasn’t dressed well. He wasn’t a farmer.

  “Can I have drink?” Wilam asked.

  “Sorry. All water consumption is forbidden. We have to wait.”

  “Juice will do,” Wilam said. “Something sweet, and some headache tablets.”

  “Can you tell me who you are?” the man asked.

  “Uh, Wilam MT 3K… uh.” He couldn’t remember the last part.

  “You need to sleep a bit more. I will bring you a drink as soon as I can,” the strange man said.

  “Who are you?”

  “Yako, and you are Wilam. Just Wilam, no ID. Try to think about that.”

  Wilam did as he was told and lay back down. His head was sore and the light hurt his eyes.

  Wilam woke up again when a bit of water hit his face.

  “Can you sit up? I’ve got drinking water.”

  Wilam vaguely recognized the man. He was given a sip from the cup. The water tasted sweet and loosened his mouth.

  “I forgot your name,” he told the stranger.

  “Yako.”

  There was a memory of being hurt. His head was sore. “Could I have more?”

  Yako put the cup into Wilam’s hand.

  “What happened?” Wilam asked, scanning the room he didn’t know.

  “How about you tell me what you remember first, so we know you’re okay. Start with saying who you are.”

  Wilam told him his name and answered the questions. He was a farmer. He lived on the south-east corner of town next to Kolyag, but they had not spoken since the trefin. Then he remembered Pina and the clinic. “My comate; she’s sick! She’s having a baby.” His memory produced a guard and an immobilizer. “Did you say he hit me?”

  “Yes. He used the thing to stop you going in. He said it was self-defence, that you were outraged. Maike brought you here.”

  “You mean they fired it at me?”

  “Yeah, I would have thought they’d discharged them by now, but no. Can’t get any other equipment working, but they still can overpower people, literally.” Yako answered.

  “Am I normal?”

  Yako said yes. “Don’t worry. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be asking that question. You’ll be okay; just rest for now. Your head will be sore for a long time.”

  “But what about Pina? What happened to her?”

  “She’s ill, Wilam. Many people are; some contagious disease.” Yako insisted there was nothing Wilam could do but rest. Nobody could go into the clinic or they’d catch it too. He would do best to sleep a bit more. Yako had to go take care of something, but he’d be back later.

  Wilam tried, but he could not rest. He didn’t know this place. Some contagious disease? Immobilized! His home was blocked and Pina… he wanted to see Pina. The man had said he’d be okay, that it was only a headache. Outside would be better. He had to wash anyhow. Get washed somewhere….

  The outside air eased the pain a little. Wilam looked around to see where he was. The people on the street were all in a hurry. It scared him. He walked, not knowing which way his home was and felt dirty; there was some disease and it had splattered on him. The ocean attracted him. That mass of water could wash away the filth. He knew how to get there… over the dunes; the dunes he could see from here.

  As long as the land was flat his head was okay, but climbing made the throbbing come back. His chest and arm hurt, like pricking needles, and he had to heave to get enough air. All Wilam knew was that the ocean was calling, but only when he saw the strange shine of the water did he notice that it was dark outside. He was thirsty, but it would be wrong to drink from this. He let the icy cold wash his pants clean and then, driven by the need to purge the disease, walked further into the water until it reached his shoulders, until he felt nothing anymore; no pain, no thoughts, no fear.

  Alerted by the shining sheet rippling around him and the rattling sound of his teeth moving against his will, Wilam looked up. A person was running in the distance, shouting something. Wilam tried to stand up, but his feet found no support and the icy liquid washed over his head. The shock made him understand that the light-giving sheet wasn’t solid, and that he should not be here. He tried to turn back to the person he’d seen earlier, but there was nothing.

  A sudden splattering nearby produced a huge dark shape, ready to grab him. Before he could see what it was, the creature yanked his arm and as he yel
led, Wilam’s head disappeared under the surface; liquid filled his throat. In a flash of panic he kicked with all his limbs to fight off the attacker until, when he surfaced and spat out the light, the thing seized his hair. No matter how hard he kicked his legs, his body followed his hair until he felt solid ground under his feet. After a few involuntary steps, his hair was released and Wilam fell. He wanted to get up, but his legs were heavy, so he crawled further onto the sand, until he was sure there was nothing around him, no animal. With the realization that he was safe, out of the water and clean, Wilam only wanted to rest. There was nothing he could do; Yako had said so.

  “Wilam, wake up. Damn it, you’ve got to move; get up. Wilam!”

  Being shaken and pulled by his arm, Wilam saw the face for the first time. He knew the boy, but he didn’t want to get up for him. He wanted to sleep.

  The boy insisted, pulling at his arms, first forward then back. “Get up, damn it, get up!”

  The voice that belonged to the face was crying and the boy was dripping wet. That surprised Wilam into obedience; he sat up. His legs were shining like the water.

  “Please get up.” The boy pushed his back.

  “Ouch; don’t. I need to rest. Yako said.”

  “No. Do you want to die too? You have to go home, walk. I can’t do it, Wilam, you must walk or you’ll die!”

  The urgency rang through: He would die. The boy kicked him and pulled again. Wilam tried to think, but he let the boy pull him to his feet and then watched the light slowly creep off his legs onto the sand and away.

  “Now walk, don’t stop, to town,” the boy cried.

  Wilam tried to stop his body shivering, but he had no control. The boy was pulling him one moment, then pushing, going fast, too fast for Wilam’s heavy legs, which he could see but not feel. He was so cold, so tired, and his head… it was pounding so hard. He wanted to tell the boy to stop, that he couldn’t walk any further, but Wilam’s legs obeyed the stranger.