Desert Stars

by Joe Vasicek

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Jalil exclaimed.

  “I guess.”

  He looked at her and frowned. She didn’t meet his eyes.

  “Aren’t you happy to finally be here?”

  “I suppose.”

  He looked at her long and hard. She flinched under his gaze.

  “You never wanted to come for the temple,” he said at last, his voice as serious as death. “You only came because your parents made you.”

  She bit her lip to keep herself from trembling.

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose there’s no point in going through with the pilgrimage, then.”

  “No,” she whispered. “There isn’t.”

  He nodded. “We’ll go straight to the Holy Archives. After that, I’ll drop you off with your cousin; she should help you get back to the desert.”

  She closed her eyes and took in a sharp breath, trying to fight back her tears. Her shoulders shook, betraying her, but Jalil did not reach out to comfort her. It was just as well; she knew she didn’t deserve it.

  * * * * *

  From the train station, they took an aerial transport to the main spire. Jalil stared out the window as they flew between the flying buttresses, marveling at the size and beauty of the ancient structure. This is where our first fathers settled when they came from Holy Earth over three thousand years ago, he told himself. This is where history began.

  After landing on a pad somewhere near the base of the structure, they walked towards a security checkpoint at the door. YOU ARE ENTERING A NON-SECTARIAN ZONE, read a sign in bright red letters. ALL GUNS, KNIVES, UNAPPROVED CHEMICAL SUBSTANCES, CIGARETTES, AND IMMODEST CLOTHING ARE FORBIDDEN. ALL PROSELYTING IS ALSO FORBIDDEN. LEAVE BAGS WITH SECURITY.

  “Hold it,” said a guard as they approached. “You can’t bring that into the temple. You’d better check it here.”

  Jalil frowned in confusion until he remembered the rifle strapped to his back. A false gift from his false father—he almost wanted to cast it away and never see it again. Still, honor compelled him to hold onto it, at least long enough to give it to Mira.

  “Will I get it back?”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” the guard said, gesturing impatiently.

  Jalil handed him the rifle, and the guard gave him a slip of paper after he passed through the metal detector. “Show this at the main gate on level 1505,” he said. “That’s where they’ll be holding it.”

  Jalil took the slip and hid it in his shirt pocket, securing the button so that nobody would steal his receipt. “Come on,” he said to Mira. She followed him without a word.

  They got on a crowded elevator and took it to the ground level. The ride took almost half an hour, even at speeds that made them both swoon with dizziness.

  When they stepped out, the scent of burning incense hit Jalil’s nose like a brick wall. He blinked a couple of times but followed the crowd as it swept them forward, down an ancient, decorated hall lined with gold-trimmed images.

  The Holy Archives were located deep in the heart of the temple. Without any windows or sunlight, the only illumination came from a few ancient lamps and chandeliers. Another security checkpoint sat just outside the main entrance, with a long line in front of it.

  Jalil tapped his foot impatiently on the stone floor, worn smooth by the passage of millions of worshipers. The air was hot, and sweat soon formed on the back of his neck. He glanced back at Mira, but she didn’t look up at him.

  The man behind them lifted a small mechanical device to his eye. It looked like a camera.

  “Hey,” said Jalil. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking pictures, of course,” said the man, a little petulant. “What’s it to you?”

  “Dear,” said a woman behind him. “Please.”

  “Why are you taking pictures?” Jalil asked, unfazed. “This is a holy place.”

  The man scowled. “There’s nothing in the rules against photography. Now mind your own business, will you?”

  “I’m sorry,” said the woman. “You’ll have to excuse my husband; he doesn’t do well in crowds.”

  Jalil frowned as he looked them over. They weren’t dressed like pilgrims at all; the woman wore a brown leather jacket over what appeared to be a tank top, while the man wore a green button-up shirt with frilly embroidery on the front.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Oh, we’re just tourists,” said the woman, smiling and waving her hand as if it were nothing. “Don’t mind us.”

  Tourists? Jalil wondered, perplexed. What are tourists doing at such a holy site? He knew people who had sacrificed almost everything to come to this place—what had these tourists sacrificed?

  After nearly an hour, they made it through security and entered the ancient hall. Lamps, icons, images, and gilded decorations covered the walls. Smoke and incense filled the air, making Mira cough. In the center of the room sat a small metal structure, shaped almost like the wreckage of the ship that had brought Jalil to this world. His heart beat a little faster, but the noisy crowd had formed yet another line that completely circled the small building. Priests dressed in rich, ornate vestments guarded the structure and managed the crowd.

  “Is this it?” asked Mira. “The source of all human knowledge?”

  “The repository of all the wisdom of Earth,” he said, correcting her.

  “It looks—kind of small.”

  Jalil opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t know what to say. He had to admit that it wasn’t at all like he’d expected it to be.

  The line moved excruciatingly slowly; if it weren’t for the sacredness of the place, Jalil would have cursed the wait. Instead, he swallowed his frustration as best he could. He’d traveled nearly nine thousand miles in the past month to come here; he could wait a little longer.

  After what felt like an eternity, they made it to the door of the ancient repository.

  “Is this the Holy Archives?” he asked one of the priests.

  The man gave him a look of annoyance. “Yes. Move along.”

  Before Jalil could pull out his pendant, he ushered them into the small building.

  The incense was twice as strong here, and the light significantly dimmer. When Jalil’s eyes had adjusted, he squinted and frowned at the strangeness of the sight before him.

  The inside of the building was one small room, with twenty cylindrical pillars scattered about in the middle. Each pillar was about three feet in diameter and ten feet high. Though they were clearly made of metal, the sheen had long since worn smooth. Worshipers knelt or prostrated themselves in prayer, while others closed their eyes and placed their hands on the pillars as if in some kind of trance. Some even kissed the objects, leaving sloppy wet marks on the surface.

  What’s going on? Jalil wondered. He found a priest and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me,” he asked, “what are—”

  “Shh!” hushed the priest. “Don’t you know where you are?”

  Jalil frowned. “The Holy Archives?”

  “Yes. Be respectful of the venerators.”

  Am I not a venerator myself?

  “What are the pillars?” he asked.

  The priest hissed in displeasure. “The memory databanks of the holy archive,” he whispered. “The data storage units that the forefathers brought with them from Earth. Are you sure you know where you are?”

  I thought I did, Jalil thought silently to himself. He hesitated for a moment before pulling out his pendant. If he was going to ask, now was the time.

  “Excuse me,” he whispered. “I have a question.”

  The priest raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

  “My mother left me this pendant before she—well, it’s a long story. I need to unlock the data that’s inside, but no one I’ve met has ever been able to do so. I came here because I knew that if anyone could do it, it would be the priests of the Holy Archives. Please, can you help me?”

  The priest took the pendant and looked it over. After a few
brief seconds, he handed it back to Jalil.

  “Where are you from, son?”

  “I’m a tribesman from the deserts.”

  The priest whistled softly. “That explains it. Son, you can take this to any data storage dealer in any city. It’s an offworld design, but it doesn’t look all that unusual.”

  Jalil’s legs went weak, and a wave of dizziness swept over him. “But—but this is the source of all Earthly knowledge and wisdom. I thought—”

  “I’m sorry,” said the priest, putting his hand on Jalil’s shoulder. “You mustn’t take that literally. Three thousand years ago, these storage banks carried the sum total of all Earthly knowledge, but they stopped working ages ago. The data they carried can be found in any of the universities, libraries, and other repositories across the empire. These empty shells are holy artifacts—nothing more.”

  Jalil didn’t know what to say. The room suddenly felt hot and cramped.

  “Thank you,” he mumbled. He took Mira by the hand and left before the priest could answer.

  “What did he say?” she asked.

  “He said he can’t help me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Jalil’s cheeks felt hot with anger and embarrassment. “It means that I’ve wasted my time. I’ve wasted your time. This whole trip—it was all a big, damn waste of our lives.”

  “Oh.”

  They left the domed chamber and walked briskly down the vaulted hallway, back toward the elevator. Along the way, they passed a group of tourists taking pictures of one of the gold-framed images in the hall. The sight made Jalil want to scream, but he stormed past them in silence.

  “So this is it?” asked Mira.

  “Yes.”

  “This is goodbye?”

  Jalil didn’t dignify her remark with an answer.

  * * * * *

  The ride to Nawal’s house felt surreal, like something from a dream. Mira stared out the window the entire time, watching as the ivory white tower of the temple grew steadily smaller behind them. They passed through the glass of Terra 2 Dome, and the featureless ground became a ceiling far above the clouds. She caught her breath at the sight and gripped her chair in alarm, but Jalil made no move to comfort her or ask if she was all right. Part of her felt relieved to be left to herself, while the rest of her wanted to cry.

  Terra 2 Dome was completely unlike any other dome that Mira had yet seen. The landscape below was a giant ocean, stretching from the base of the glass wall to the edge of the horizon. Her eyes widened at the sight, and she pressed her face up against the window to get a better view. Here was more water than she’d seen in her entire life—more than she’d ever thought could exist. As they descended, the surface rippled in the golden light of the sun, diffused by the glass and clouds.

  The train didn’t slow at all, but raced at full speed down towards the water’s surface. Mira gasped and covered her eyes as they passed through; the hum of the wind outside the window jumped in pitch, but she felt no shock. When she opened her eyes again, she found that they were traveling through a long glass tunnel, giving her a view of the ocean floor. To her surprise, the underwater scene was teeming with life and color. Craggy red and white formations reached up toward the wavy blue surface above, while creatures of all shapes and sizes floated about in the midst of the surreal aquatic landscape. A cloud passed overhead, and Mira caught sight of it long enough to tell that it was actually a flock of tiny blue-green creatures all swimming in sync with each other. Though everything passed in a blur, she stared out in wonder at it all, turning her head from side to side to catch fragmentary glimpses.

  Look! she wanted to say to Jalil. Isn’t it beautiful? Instead, she held her tongue. It was easier than trying to bridge the wall that had come between them—easier, and yet infinitely harder.

  Like the seascape before her, time passed in a blur. Eventually, however, the ground rose and the train broke out to skim the surface of the ocean. It slowed as they approached an island of rust-colored rock and lush green forest, interspersed with picturesque red stone buildings. Perhaps, Mira mused, if an ocean of water covered the desert, leaving only the highest mountain crags poking through, it would one day look like this. Oddly enough, for that reason alone the sight reminded her more of her home than anything she had yet seen.

  The train came to a gradual stop at a station built of red shale and sandstone. Mira and Jalil were the only ones to disembark. The salty sea air blew across her face as she stepped out, pleasantly cool and moist. She loosened her headscarf and breathed it in, fresh and clean.

  With a hum, the train left the platform and descended once more beneath the sea, leaving a peaceful silence broken only by the cries of the large white birds in the sky and the breaking of the waves on the beach. It was like a tiny piece of heaven.

  A heaven which she did not deserve.

  She followed Jalil wordlessly down the black cobblestone avenues of the beautiful village. A few miniature hovercars passed them by, but most of the people here walked rather than drove. Small, eclectic shops lined the main street, with tables beneath colorful awnings to display their various wares. It reminded her a little of the open-air market in New Amman. A small girl in a pretty blue dress stood behind a cart full of beautiful flowers, selling them to passersby. A young boy in a leather vest and checkered cap sold delicious-smelling pastries outside of a small brick shop. Everyone here seemed so happy and content, smiling as they talked with each other.

  As Mira’s mind wandered, she imagined spending the rest of her life with Jalil in a place like this. Everything seemed so simple and peaceful here; no warlords or bombings, blood feuds or tribal jealousies. The land and sea were rich and full of life, the air cool and deliciously wet against her skin. With relatives such as Nawal nearby, she could settle in this place and be happy.

  The thought brought bitter tears to her eyes as she realized it would never happen. Even so, she held on to them, as if her fantasies could offer some meager substitute for the awful reality she faced.

  At length, they arrived at Nawal’s house. Jalil knocked on the old wooden door, while down by their feet a brown cat eyed them before returning to licking its paws. After a few moments, the door swung open, revealing a short, middle aged woman with graying hair.

  “Eh?” she said, frowning. “Who are you?”

  “Jalil Ibn Sathi Al-Najmi. Are you Nawal?”

  Recognition dawned on her face. “Ah, yes—come in, come in.” Mira started to step inside, but Jalil remained at the door.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I must be going.”

  At his words, Mira’s stomach fell.

  “What?” Nawal exclaimed. “But you’ve only just arrived!”

  “Take this back to your father,” said Jalil, handing the heirloom rifle to Mira. She was about to protest, but the cold expression on his face cut her short. She accepted it without a word.

  “What nonsense is this?” Nawal exclaimed. “Please, come in—I’ve made some dinner, and there’s more than enough for both of you.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Jalil, “but I can’t stay. The last train leaves in twenty minutes.”

  “But you’re more than welcome to—”

  “I really should be going,” he said adamantly. “I wish I could stay, but I have a prior engagement.”

  What prior engagement? Mira wondered, cringing at Jalil’s blatant rudeness. He didn’t sound like himself at all.

  Nawal argued with him for a few minutes, but Jalil refused to give, and in the end she was forced to concede. With her hands on her hips, Nawal clucked and stepped inside.

  “All right, dear,” she said to Mira. “Come along.”

  “Wait!” cried Mira, running after Jalil. He was already heading down the street, about to leave without saying goodbye.

  He stopped and looked up at her.

  “Yes?”

  Her hands trembled, and her eyes were blurry with tears. “So this is it,” she said quietly. “This
is goodbye.”

  “Yes,” said Jalil. He didn’t say anything else.

  Before he could stop her, she flung her arms around his neck and gave him a parting hug. He hesitated for a moment, but he did put his arms around her—weakly, as if holding her at a distance. She bit her lip to keep from shaking.

  “I’m so sorry,” she cried, surprised by the forcefulness in her voice. “I’m sorry for everything. Please, Jalil—please forgive me!”

  “Of course I forgive you,” he said. “But I have to go now.”

  No, she wanted to scream. You don’t have to leave. We can work things out—we can make everything work out.

  Instead, she said nothing.

  “Take these,” he said as he dropped several cash datachips into her hand.

  “What’s this?”

  “Two thousand credits,” he said. “It should help you with the return journey. Nawal will supply the rest, I’m sure.”

  She looked up at him with teary eyes. They stared at each other in silence for a few more moments before he turned and left the way they had come.

  Mira watched him until he turned the corner and was gone. You didn’t really forgive me, she thought to herself. Tears burned in her eyes, and her legs felt weak. You think you did, but you didn’t.

  But then again, how could she expect him to forgive her when she couldn’t even forgive herself?

  * * * * *

  “Is this what you’re looking for?” asked the bald, overweight man at the specialty data store.

  “Yes,” said Jalil. His heart leaped in his chest as the data from his locket appeared in raw binary code on the screen.