The Memory of Sky

by Robert Reed

  One side tunnel was marked with important numbers, and it obviously dove deep inside the tree.

  Elata shouted, “Turn.”

  Diamond was exhausted. He was ready to sit in a corner, resting his mind. More than anything, he wanted quiet and closed eyes and his old friend Mister Mister to hug. But they ran down a long passageway, deeper into Marduk. The only lights hummed and flickered, like fire and not like fire, and the surrounding wood smelled different. Diamond pulled away from his friends. Then the wood smelled like before—a living wet smell—and a doorway appeared, revealing sunshine. He slowed and Elata said, “Go out,” and Diamond led them onto the same broad public walkway they had already fled once.

  He fell into a quick walk, watching for the angry man and the black blimp, but the blimp was gone and every face was new, and most of the people didn’t waste time noticing the odd boy in their midst.

  Elata and Seldom caught up to him.

  The walkway was wider than before—a great plain of blue-painted wood reaching far into a different kind of air. No column of water tumbled from the sky. There were three blimps and different trees growing in the distance, while smoke and perfumes gave every breath strange tastes.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  His friends were talking between themselves.

  Diamond stopped and looked at them. “Where’s Marduk?”

  “It’s here,” Seldom said. “We came out the other side.”

  Diamond turned in a slow circle, finding new landmarks.

  “We need to climb,” Elata warned.

  The great tree rose up into a morning mist that wasn’t as thick as before. Hundreds of structures were fixed to the trunk and long mysterious structures reached far out into the bright busy air.

  “Come on,” said Seldom.

  “I can’t climb,” Diamond said.

  “It’s all right,” said Elata. “There’s another way.”

  They approached a wide gap in the walkway, a narrow red safety rope marking the hole. Massive ropes were moving beside the tree, a dozen ropes rising and just as many falling. The smallest rope was thicker than any person’s body, dull brown and creaking sharply. Several people stood beside the hole, waiting. An attendant released the safety rope. Then a broad platform dropped into view, different people and a few small boxes riding down the side of the tree. The platform never stopped, and most of the waiting people calmly stepped onboard, vanishing without fuss. Then the attendant looped the safety rope back into place, glancing up and then down before telling everyone, “Step away.”

  Diamond stood beside Elata. Seldom was behind them, watching the crowd and then watching his feet.

  “Police,” he said with a quiet, scared voice.

  Two men in black uniforms and rounded black hats emerged from the hallway, studying faces, working their way toward Diamond.

  Elata walked up to the safety rope.

  The attendant was a small stout woman. Her uniform was gray with white stripes, and she wore a tall pointed hat. She looked important and sounded that way when she said, “Back now, girl. Freighter coming. Back.”

  Elata whispered to Seldom.

  The boy winced and said nothing.

  Diamond looked over the edge. The rising platform was covered with long boxes.

  The important woman said, “Get back, son.”

  He didn’t like that word from a stranger. “Son.” But he backed up and dropped his face.

  Elata took his hand. Her tug meant something.

  “They see us,” Seldom said.

  The freight platform was close when Elata squatted and jumped under the rope, bringing Diamond with her. Seldom followed. The attendant cursed, but she had no interest in chasing them. Their fall was quick and ended with a noisy crash, landing on top of the largest box. Thick wooden planks were pegged to a heavy framework. Spaces between the planks allowed air to move in and out. Something directly under Diamond’s feet made a rough noise, like the cough of a giant, and then a broad pink nose pushed close enough that he felt the wet breath warming the bare parts of his feet.

  The platform rose past the walkway and the waiting people and the attendant who invested a few moments shaking her fist at them.

  Diamond didn’t see the police again.

  Seldom kneeled, peering into the dark interior.

  “What are you doing?” a voice shouted.

  “We’re late to school,” Elata said.

  A man was climbing up on their box. He had the same gray and white uniform, the same pointed hat. But his anger was different. The first attendant had seen one rule broken, but what could she do about it? On the other hand, these three hitchers were riding on this man’s platform, which was nearly his own property. This was a very serious crime.

  “So you’re late,” the man said. “But now you’re doubly in trouble, because you don’t belong here.”

  “Throw us off,” Elata said.

  “I should,” he agreed.

  Terrified, Seldom backed away.

  Again, the beast inside the box gave Diamond a good hard sniff. Then a sour deep voice said, “Odd, odd, odd.”

  Diamond stepped back.

  The nose followed him. And again, the creature’s voice said, “Odd.”

  The attendant looked at the three of them, ending up with Diamond. A polished club was fixed to a heavy belt, and he pulled the club free, passing it from one hand to the other and back again. Seldom moaned, and Elata put her feet apart, ready to move. But then the man knelt and struck the box hard three times, shouting, “What’s odd, growler?”

  “Smell is.”

  “Whose smell?”

  The nose looked halfway human, sniffing Diamond again, sniffing hard.

  “That boy?” asked the man.

  “No boy,” the growler responded. Then it put its nose under Seldom, sniffed and said, “Nothing like this boy. Nothing this nose ever smelled ever.”

  The attendant rose, studying Diamond’s face.

  “What’s a growler?” Diamond asked no one in particular.

  “They do work,” Elata explained. “They’re big and strong, and smart enough to follow orders, if their trained right and willing.”

  “I am willing,” said the beast in the box. “I am a heroic worker.”

  Except for the big nose, Diamond couldn’t see what was under his feet. Putting both arms around his chest, he gazed out into the air, at a tree even larger than Marduk that was laced with tunnels and houses and covered with big walkways, and maybe twenty blimps were tied to structures that reached out like arms, and beneath every walkway were other structures where still more people lived.

  Not even at his dreamiest best had Diamond imagined so many people alive in the world.

  The attendant approached, holding his club with both hands.

  “What’s wrong with you, son?”

  There was that word again. “Son.” Diamond took a deep breath and looked down at his silly feet, and then he looked up and frowned. “I’m sick,” he said. “I’m dying.”

  He didn’t believe that story anymore, but he could offer the words with convincing despair.

  The man said, “Oh,” and dropped his gaze.

  Nobody spoke for a while.

  Then Seldom said, “We’re close.”

  A smaller walkway was directly above. Elata took Diamond’s hand again and tugged, smiling at him until he smiled back. She didn’t tell him that they would jump, but he knew what her face was saying. Then she turned forward, and he kept watching her profile—the smile swirling inside fatigue and fear and undiluted stubbornness. Real faces weren’t paint on wooden soldiers or wooden statues. A human face was much more complicated, and if you stared at any face, it showed you more and more that you hadn’t noticed before.

  Wood sawed from other trees had been carried to this important place and pinned together to form rooms and hallways, windows and doors, and the entire building was painted a brilliant shade of blue that Diamond had never seen be
fore. Like a giant hand, the school had grabbed hold of Marduk. Every room was lit by daylight. Students dropped to school on ropes and ladders, and they climbed up to it, and strung-out groups scampered along parallel walkways. There was endless motion, yet nobody seemed to hurry. Every day in the world began when it began, and every day lasted as long as it would last. Time was fluid. Starts and endings were never clearly defined. This was morning and not necessarily late in the morning, and it felt like the right time to begin school, and school would last to that vague, still distant point in the afternoon when minds grew too tired to function—student minds as well as those of the teachers.

  Someone said, “Seldom.”

  The boy nodded vaguely, pushing on.

  A girl approached, asking Elata, “Where’s your uniform?”

  “Laundry,” she blurted, her excuse at the ready. “My mom forgot again.”

  “Who are you?” The girl was short and stocky, and she liked to touch what didn’t make sense. She put both hands on Diamond’s arms, saying, “I don’t know you. Where are you from?”

  “My old tree,” Elata said.

  The boys looked at her, surprised.

  “He’s visiting,” she explained. “His family’s thinking of moving to Marduk.”

  “The world’s best tree,” said the girl. And she ran off.

  The three of them continued to walk. Then Seldom said, “I know better, but I almost believed you.”

  “Lying is my gift,” she said, smiling.

  The first few doors were avoided. Planks and a minimal railing created a rising staircase that nobody else used. Elata climbed and paused, waiting for Diamond. “This man we want to see,” she began.

  “Master Nissim,” he remembered.

  “There’s a story about him,” she said.

  Seldom acted self-conscious and nervous, and that was why the teacher noticed him. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, she shouted, “What are you doing there, Seldom?”

  He stopped, hands wrestling in front of him.

  “Come down here,” she demanded.

  “We have an appointment,” Elata called out.

  The teacher hadn’t noticed Elata or Diamond. “An appointment?” she asked skeptically.

  “This boy is transferring to school.”

  “And where are his parents?”

  “We’re looking for them.” Elata nodded with authority. “Have you seen two new adults, Master?”

  The woman considered and said, “No, I don’t think so.”

  “We’ll keep looking, Master. Thank you.”

  Elata broke into a crisp run and the boys followed, reaching the next walkway and turning into the first doorway. A tunnel led inside the tree, and suddenly the world became wonderfully quiet.

  “What is the story?” Diamond asked.

  Elata paused. “What story?”

  “About Master Nissim,” he said.

  “Oh, he isn’t a teacher anymore.” She showed him a wink and smile. “He used to be. I guess. But something happened long ago, something very bad, and you can never ask about that. Is that understood?”

  He thought, No.

  But he nodded and said nothing more.

  Power saws and pneumatic chisels had carved an enormous room, apparently for no purpose but to be filled up with ash-stained vents and giant grills, cupboards taller than any person and ovens large enough to cook meals for hundreds of growing bodies. Smoke hung in the close damp air. Yesterday’s garbage needed to be thrown out. Jammed into the aisles were block-like tables where food was prepared, each table holding a long rack filled with wooden spoons and huge pots scorched by hard use. Men and women wore uniforms that might have started the day white. Every apron was filthy with plant juices and blood. Everybody was talking, and as the three of them stepped into the kitchen, one woman in back shouted a few words that Diamond didn’t recognize—funny words, judging by the laughter rolling toward them—and then another woman yelled the warning that everybody feared most. “Children,” she called out.

  The laughter didn’t die immediately, and several adults repeated the new words. But then the place turned quiet enough that Diamond heard the ticking of ovens and a cauldron of water boiling with enthusiasm.

  A different woman stepped forward. “Not now, he’s busy,” she told Seldom.

  Seldom hesitated.

  “Besides,” the woman continued. “It’s class time and you two aren’t dressed.”

  Elata smiled pleasantly while nodding, as if ready to apologize and leave again. But then she told everybody, “This is Diamond. He’s starting school today, and according to tests, he’s even smarter than Seldom.”

  Seldom bristled with that news but kept quiet.

  “We told Diamond who the smartest person in school is, but he doesn’t believe us. He thinks it should be a teacher.”

  Everybody laughed in a head-shaking, cross-the-arms fashion. Then the woman who tried to coax them to leave personally escorted them into a second, much smaller room. White walls and the sudden chill signaled a very different place. The only person present stood at the farthest table. He was covered with blood, the apron soaked and red flecks on his face and the gloves soggy enough to drip blood when he gripped the big cleaver, both hands needed before he could take a whack at the gruesome remains of a long animal leg.

  The woman waited for the cutting to stop. Then she said, “Nissim, hey,” and gave Diamond a shove of encouragement. Then to the three of them, she said, “Not long. Or you’ll eat double rations, as a lesson.”

  She left laughing.

  Diamond had never seen a taller or stronger man. The school’s butcher was younger than his father, but not by too many days. The forearms looked swollen with muscle. The long narrow face was never handsome and was usually forgotten by everyone who looked at him only once. What were memorable were his eyes, oversized and brilliant even though they were blacker than seemed natural. Master Nissim also had an easy, infectious smile and an agreeable voice that was deeper than expected—a smoldering low voice that could say anything and say it softly and still end up being noticed by everyone in earshot.

  “Come here, boy,” he said to Diamond. “And bring that nice odd face with you.”

  Diamond crept halfway to the table and stopped.

  “I don’t know you,” the man decided.

  Diamond looked at his own feet.

  “There’s a story here, isn’t there?” Nissim set the cleaver into a coral sink and pulled the pieces of leg aside. Removing his filthy gloves, he kept his eyes fixed on Diamond. But he said, “Seldom. Tell me the story, please.”

  Elata tried to speak first.

  “No,” the man insisted. Up went a huge hand, one finger noticeably shorter than the others. “You can tell it next, dear. But I want to hear something closer to the truth, and you are an accomplished exaggerator.”

  Seldom took a cold breath and exhaled, vapor hanging before his thrilled face. Then with a rush of words, he repeated what he knew personally and what others had told him. A morning full of adventure was relived, and then he was left gasping for air, happy enough that his feet began to dance.

  Nissim never stopped watching Diamond. “Your first time outside, he says. Is that the absolute truth, my boy?”

  Diamond nodded.

  “Amazing,” said the butcher.

  “Can I tell it now?” Elata asked.

  “Oh, please. I’ve been waiting for this.”

  She began at the moment when she first saw Diamond standing on his landing, relating events in their approximate order. It was the same story, and it wasn’t. Seldom said that his brother dropped the boy, and it might have been an accident. In Elata’s telling, Karlan was bigger and meaner, flinging his victim into the open air and cackling as he tumbled out of sight. Seldom mentioned how the wounds healed quickly, but he was stubbornly unwilling to believe what he saw. Maybe Diamond wasn’t hurt that badly, he allowed. But Elata was convinced, and for emphasis, she said that she was s
ure that Diamond died in the fall but came back to life again as easily as normal people woke at dawn, and she didn’t know what to think about this odd wonderful boy who had spent his life in darkness, except that he seemed remarkably nice.

  Diamond listened to every word, absorbing the drama, but it felt as if she was describing a stranger. Meanwhile he studied the cold room, the walls covered with white papery insulation, the work tables washed clean and the deep bins beside them, each filled with sorted bones and chunks of dark red meat, and in one sink, the intact head of some big animal with huge flat teeth and empty holes where the eyes should be. He went to look at the head, and then he spied a different sort of table and a small chair hiding in the back corner. Papers and books were stacked on shelves fixed to the white wall. Elata had finished her story. Diamond was approaching the desk when Nissim clucked his tongue and laughed quietly.

  “You don’t believe me,” Elata complained.

  “Believe you?” the butcher replied. “Oh, I believe everything I’m told. That’s the human curse. People are gullible animals. That’s why I’ve taught myself to step back and give a skeptical look at everything, particularly ordinary, commonsense thoughts. Which your story is most definitely not.”

  Diamond stood beside the desk, reading what little he could. Familiar words and strange words were written on the bindings. The books set on the highest shelf caught his attention, and he couldn’t help but climb up on the desk, on his knees, grabbing the top volume from the stack.

  Nissim was beside him and had been for a while.

  A great cool hand touched the boy’s back, and a matching voice asked, “What are your parents’ names?”

  “Haddi and Merit.”

  “Merit,” the warm voice repeated.

  Diamond opened the book. The binding was on the right, and every page was filled with swirling, senseless lines.