Six Bits

by Laurence Dahners

  She put the leaf litter on top of it too and more fire blossomed!

  Gano shouted, “It’s a fire!”

  Bant, who till then had been completely oblivious to what Teba was actually doing, leaned over her shoulder and saw the small flame. “Fire!” he shouted, letting her furs drop back down.

  Moments later the entire tribe had gathered around exclaiming excitedly. Selah, who’d managed the tribe’s fires in the past, knelt next to Teba and tenderly helped her build it up with small sticks and a couple of small dry logs. She turned to the crowd around them and shouted joyously, “Get wood!”

  The tribe scattered into the twilight surrounding the cave.

  Billy felt pleased.

  Teba, far beyond pleased, was practically ecstatic.

  Selah gazed at the small flame with reverence. She turned to Teba and said, “Can you watch over this fire, carefully feeding it small pieces of wood, while I prepare our fire pit?”

  Teba moved to the side of her small fire so that she could watch Selah prepare the fire pit. Other members of the tribe started arriving back with arms full of deadfall which they began to stack where wood had always been kept. They immediately went out for more, excitedly chattering as they did so. Teba realized with some awe that even the men were getting wood, something they’d always considered beneath them in the old days.

  Billy focused on Selah who almost ceremoniously cleaned out the small depression surrounded by a row of rocks near the middle of their sheltering overhang. Once it had been cleaned to her satisfaction, she spent a minute or two waving her hands over it in a fashion clearly ceremonial. Billy thought she might be supplicating some kind of gods or spirits. Next she came over and very carefully selected a few little sticks. She took them back and laid them in the center of the fire pit so that they formed a small grid. She returned for some punk, twigs and a few leaves that went on top of the grid. Next she got some small sticks and propped them over the grid in the shape of a little pyre. Finally she built a teepee of small logs over the rest of her materials.

  After a little more ceremonial hand-waving, Selah returned to Teba and, speaking in what seemed like a very formal fashion for such a primitive society, she gravely said, “Teba, may I take a torch from your fire to start a fire for the tribe?”

  Teba sat up straighter, raising her head proudly, and replied, “Yes, you may.”

  Rather than picking up a burning piece of wood from Teba’s fire as Billy had expected, Selah picked up one of the pieces of wood from the old woodpile that was about an inch in diameter. She held it against the rock wall of the cave and, picking up a rock, pounded the end of the piece of firewood until it was split and brushy looking. She held this blossom of broken wood in the flames of Teba’s little fire until it was burning well.

  Chanting, Selah stood with the burning firebrand held horizontally. She watched it for a moment or two, tipping the burning end downward so that the flame tried to climb onto the rest of the stick. Then, as everyone in the cave watched with fervent anticipation, she walked slowly to the fire pit and knelt worshipfully before the stack of wood she’d prepared. Lowering the firebrand she carefully placed it against the punk underneath her teepee of wood.

  Billy had the impression that everyone held their breath.

  A few minutes later flames were rising from the kindling, up through her little pyre and into the teepee of small logs.

  One of the men threw his head back and began ululating joyfully.

  The rest of the tribe joined him and a moment later, Teba threw her head back and began howling herself.

  Dark had fallen outside the cave. For months, the cold had been painful and dangerous, especially at night. Though, on this evening, the air was as cold as it had ever been, the heat from the fire made Teba think of it as brisk rather than dreadful.

  Instead of huddling together, shivering and praying for the dawn, the tribe sat around the fire with full stomachs, telling tales, laughing, dancing, and expressing their joy at being warm. Billy hadn’t experienced a night with the tribe before, but he knew from Teba’s memories and reactions that Teba’s fire had improved the life of their tribe immensely.

  Even better, from Teba’s viewpoint, members of the tribe came to personally thank her for the fire. To Billy’s surprise, none of them asked how Teba had started the fire. He had the impression that many of them thought Teba had witnessed a miracle occurring and knelt down to watch it happen, rather than considering that Teba might willfully have caused such a miracle to transpire.

  Even though Teba’s tribespeople didn’t seem to consider it possible that Teba actually started the fire, they nonetheless expressed their gratitude to her, perhaps attributing the fire to her karma, or prayers, or luck, or something else. While Billy would have felt more satisfied to have the tribesmen understand that Billy/Teba actually created the fire, Teba was perfectly happy to have the fire attributed to her in any fashion.

  Eventually, the tribe settled down to sleep. Selah assigned a rotating watch amongst the women of the cave to be sure the fire kept burning through the night.

  No one wanted to wake in the morning with their fire gone once again.

  Billy lay awake for a long time. He understood through Teba’s memories that the people of the tribe typically awoke with the dawn and fell asleep when dark came again. Because, especially in winter, this meant many hours were spent in darkness trying to sleep, many of them woke up part way through the night. This frightening part of the night was spent listening fearfully to the denizens of darkness and imagining that horrible beasts prowled about.

  However, Billy was used to staying up in the evenings. He would have been watching TV or going out to bars in the evening back home. This night, he lay thinking about what other ideas he might introduce to improve the life of the tribe. He knew that Teba and the other tribespeople were looking forward to breaking open the wolf’s bones and sucking out the marrow in the morning. Then, now that they had fire, the bones would be heated in water to make a soup. Billy was hoping that if he/she twisted the bones until they broke, some of them might break in a spiral fashion to produce a sharp point.

  Maybe he’d be able to jam that point on the end of the staff he’d cut earlier today, making a spear.

  He thought, I need to do something about this damn tooth…

  Maybe…

  Billy woke the next morning in his own bed. Kim was gone. She’d left a note, “Not as easy as you thought, was it?”

  Despite searching for her, or anyone who’d ever known or even seen her, Billy never managed to make contact with Kim again.

  I said, “But you did find it easy, right?”

  Billy blinked at me, a look of bewilderment on his face, “Weren’t you listening?!”

  “Yeah. You were only there for a day, and you fed the tribe ‘til they were stuffed and brought them fire!”

  He shook his head, “Those wolves came this close,” he held his fingers up, an eighth of an inch apart, “to eating me!” He thumped his jaw, “That tooth that hurt? It probably had an abscess and could easily have killed me. All these things I thought I could introduce—from swords, to knives, to metallurgy and blacksmithing, to spears, atlatls, bows and arrows—I couldn’t even start!”

  I shrugged, “Yeah, but you taught them how to start fires! That had to be huge! Teba gained a lot of prestige from it, so you sure as hell made a big difference for her.”

  Billy shook his head back and forth for a moment, then eventually shrugged acceptance. “Yes, it was huge. And I still kind of believe that if I’d stayed there for months, I could’ve given them better spears and maybe a spear thrower of some kind.” He got a distant look, “Maybe with years I could’ve figured out how to make a bow and arrow. Metal and swords though,” he shook his head. “Maybe in a lifetime, if the tribe were willing to feed me while I piddled around trying to figure it out.” He looked deep into my eyes, “But lives were short back then man! That bad tooth? I had other teeth in rough shape
, they just weren’t completely rotten like the molar that hurt so bad. The people in my tribe were all missing teeth here and there, so Teba wasn’t particularly worse off than they were. Their skin was pockmarked and unhealthy looking. Several of them limped. If I understood their system right, Teba counted eighteen summers and thought she was old, because only three people in the tribe had lived to count twenty.”

  “Well,” I said, “I still think you beat Kim at her little game. Introducing fire in just one day had to be huge.”

  “Yeah…” he trailed off a beatific expression on his face. “It was.” Then he shook his head, “But it was nothing compared to what I thought I could do. And I am so grateful to be back here…”

  He sat a moment, staring into space, looking… wistful. I couldn’t get over how different he looked. A changed man, so to speak. After watching him for a minute I said, “So, what. You look like you’ve got more to say—or maybe some deep thoughts to relate? Maybe you want to go back there?”

  He looked up at me with a startled expression, “Hell no, I don’t want to go back there.” He paused for a moment’s thought, “But on the other hand I feel ashamed…”

  He didn’t say anything more for a bit, so I prompted, “Ashamed of what?”

  He turned to look me in the eye. “Teba’s still back there, hungry, downtrodden, getting raped by that asshole Bant. Her son Gano—who I love because Teba loved him—Bant hits him too. A lot. I didn’t solve that problem,” he shrugged, “maybe I made it worse.” He looked off into the distance, “And I really don’t know how I could have solved it. The guy’s a monster by modern standards, someone who taught me just how much of a jerk guys have been down through history…” He looked away, then back at me, “And still are! I’ve been a manipulative bastard myself and it makes me… ashamed. And angry. I’m not as bad as Bant, but… still, I regret the way I’ve acted…” He glanced at me again and gave a little grin, “I really want to go back and give Bant a little attitude adjustment.” He shook his head, “Actually, I want to go back and kill him, but the tribe really can’t afford to lose him.”

  He snorted, “I’m not so good at these moral judgments…” He looked up at me, “But, by God, I’m gonna get better.”

  He stared off into space again for a bit, then concluded by saying, “And, if that’s what Kim really wanted, then she won… didn’t she?”

  The End

  What if - you went back in time?

  Would your modern knowledge really make you king of the hill? And even if it did, wouldn’t you still wish you were back in modern times? Even those who we think are poverty-stricken here in the United States actually live better than the kings of yore (warmer housing; better, cleaner clothing; more varieties of food, with priceless spices easily obtained; flush toilets; heated water; bathing; telephones; televisions; music on demand; fast transportation; far less disease; and free basic education), but we seldom give it any thought.

  Actually, most of the time, we just complain…

  GUITAR GIRL

  Keith walked out onto the patio of the Piña Colada Bar where his band, The Sons of Beaches, had been gigging for the summer. Typical for this time of day, the patio was nearly empty. A young couple had their heads bent together over a big umbrella drink they were sharing with a pair of straws. Over to one side, a slender girl sprawled back in a chair that faced out toward the ocean. Her body looked cute, though Keith could only see it from behind. What caught his attention was the fact that she had an electric guitar in her lap. She plucked idly at the strings, eyes on the surf, listening to her instrument through a pair of earphones.

  Giving her little thought, Keith busied himself uncovering their equipment and powering it up. His band had a little stage at one end of the big patio. By the end of a typical evening, they’d have a pretty good crowd. Some sitting at the bar near the back of the patio, some at the tables scattered around the patio and some out on the nearby beach. Early in the evening, they’d play mellow stuff for the people having dinner. Later, people would be dancing and the band would try to play stuff that fit whatever kind of crowd they had that night. They took pride in being able to play a wide variety of music and usually being able to find a groove that made the crowd happy.

  Dave showed up and checked on his drum kit. He took his cymbals home every night, so he had to set them back up. He settled onto the throne and ran through a very short drum solo that made sure everything sounded okay and confirmed that the kit was miked correctly. By then Bernie had arrived, tuned his bass guitar and jacked it into the sound system.

  Satisfied, Bernie gave Keith a nod. Keith played a sustained D chord on the keys, bringing the volume up slowly with his pedal. Bernie bobbed his head a couple of times, then started thumping strings on the bass. Dave brought in a beat on the drums and a few seconds later, having finished the intro, Keith leaned forward and sang, “Nibblin’ on sponge cake…”

  As they worked their way through Margaritaville, Keith saw the girl reach up and pull out one of her earphones. It looked to him like she wondered what she was hearing. Earphone out, she turned to look back over her shoulder and saw the band. Curious as to how she would react, Keith kept an eye on her.

  The girl turned back to look out to sea, then looked down the beach to the right and the left. He got the impression that she was looking for some convenient quiet place to go, now that the band had taken over the patio. Evidently, she didn’t see anything satisfactory, because she kind of shrugged then leaned her chair so that it rose onto one back leg. Shuffling her feet, she pivoted the chair on that single leg until she was facing the band. His eyes widened. He’d thought she might be cute when he’d seen her body from behind. Now he saw her from the front—the girl was hot!

  She settled the chair, then adjusted her earphones. She reinserted the one she’d pulled out, but Keith thought she’d put it in loosely. She tugged on the other one, Keith suspected to loosen it as well. Fitting his impression that she’d loosened both earplugs so she could hear the band, she started playing the guitar again. She changed chords when the song changed, so Keith felt pretty certain that she was playing along with them.

  At first, Keith felt surprised to see that she had the chord progression of Margaritaville down pat. Keith mostly played keyboards, but he also played guitar on a few songs. He’d certainly played enough that he could see that she was fingering the correct chords. She didn’t hesitate as she played, or make sudden moves on the fretboard suggesting that she’d played something incorrectly, so, even though he couldn’t hear what she was playing, he was pretty sure she was playing it well.

  His surprise only grew as the band played song after song in a wide variety of genres and styles. Either she knew every one, or she faked it better than anyone he’d ever seen.

  By the time they’d finished their first set, Keith’s curiosity was overwhelming him. Their little band played a little something for everyone, new to old, classic rock, to pop, to country, to reggae, to hip-hop. After all, they were trying to keep a broad variety of customers happy, though he worried sometimes that it meant there was something in their set list for each customer to dislike as well. In any case, it seemed to him that it had to be extremely unlikely that anyone would know all the songs they’d played unless they’d had the set list and studied them.

  He wondered if their little band might have just captured itself a groupie. Someone who’d listened to them many times before. It seemed highly unlikely that a good-looking young girl like this one could be interested in a three piece band made up of guys in their late thirties, but he could dream, couldn’t he?

  As they took their break, Keith wandered back to the bar where Nicole had his soda water and lime ready. Usually, he went back in the band’s dressing room and checked email on his phone, but this time he wandered out to where the girl was sitting, wondering how to strike up a conversation. She’d turned back to face the surf and was staring out over the water, still idly playing her guitar.

 
Standing to the side and just barely closer to the beach, he turned and watched her out of the corner of his eye. The first thing that struck him as he saw her close-up was that she wasn’t just pretty, like he’d thought.

  The girl was stunning!

  Trying not to stare like a creep, he focused his eyes on the guitar. He didn’t recognize it. It didn’t have a brand emblazoned on it and didn’t look like any guitar he’d ever seen before. Nonetheless, everything about it seemed to be very well-made with excellent fit and finish. He was put off, though, by an extensive array of switches and knobs and buttons practically covering its body. His first impression was of a guitar made for some kind of technophile who couldn’t really play. The kind who thought that if his instrument had enough fancy tone controls, it’d make up for a lack of talent.

  Then Keith’s eyes tracked to the fingers working the neck of her guitar because she’d just bent the strings like a blues guitarist. Then her fingers started flying around the fretboard like a classical guitarist. It really looks like this girl can play! However, he felt a little put off by the fact that she had a large ring on her ring finger. It was plain silver and covered much of the back of her finger. It didn’t seem to get in the way of her playing very much, but he found it odd that a serious guitarist would wear such a large piece of jewelry on their playing hand.

  Keith could faintly hear the notes on the unamplified electric guitar over the sound of the surf and the customers who’d started filling the patio bar, but what he heard sounded good. It wasn’t a song he’d ever heard before, but he already liked it.

  Wondering how to get her attention, he looked at her face and realized she was eyeing him. He gave her a little two-fingered wave.

  She reached up and pulled out an earphone. “Hi. You play keyboards in the band, right?”

  Keith nodded, then gave a little wave at the guitar, “You look like you play pretty well yourself. What kind of guitar is that?”