A Girl Called Ari

by P. J. Sky

  “An’ now,” said Doug, “he return to the earth.”

  “I shoulda had ‘im,” said Ari.

  She wiped the blade on the animal’s grey fur and slipped it back in its sheath at her ankle.

  “This kinda thin’ takes practice,” said Doug. Holding the spear upright in his elbow, he removed his eyeglasses and began to rub them on his shorts.

  “Whatever,” said Ari. “I coulda got ‘im if ya hadn’t butt in.”

  Doug shook his head. “Na, ya couldn’, ya needed another spear.”

  He showed Ari the end of the spear he was holding. It was Ari’s spear. The end, burnt black and sharpened to a point, was broken.

  “Musta hit a rock,” he said. “Ya can sharpen it again.”

  Ari sighed. She pulled Doug’s spear from the carcass and they bound the animal’s limbs around the two spears to carry it back to the village. As Doug led the way, the head of the spears over his shoulder, Ari sulked.

  I shoulda had him. I missed him last time too. Next time I’ll get him.

  The animal’s head dragged limply against the long grass. Its eyes were open but the fire had gone. Twisted now, in an unnatural position, it was hard to imagine the carcass had ever held life.

  In the city they eat syntho, she thought. And they don’t have to catch it, or go hungry because they can’t. It’s just there to be eaten. They live in rooms with roofs and walls and fireplaces, or whatever the city folk actually have to keep them warm. And they eat whenever they want to. And that’s what I’ll do when I get to the city.

  She tried to visualise her lost home in the city, the rooms with the purple light, the balcony overlooking a mechanical forest of steel and glass. The image seemed hazier now, as if Starla’s descriptions of the city had begun to rearrange her own memories. She thought of the purple powder on her mother’s dressing table, she knew she’d seen this. Then she remembered her mother’s lifeless eyes, staring up at the ceiling of the hut.

  She was staring into the eyes of the dead kangaroo.

  And next time I’ll have him, she thought. And Doug will have to drop that condescending tone.

  ∆∆∆

  Later, they lay on the floor of their hut, the fire crackling in the hearth.

  Starla rolled onto her side on the small bed she’d been provided. “Why do you want to go to the city?”

  Ari looked up from the floor, where she lay on a blanket, and her pale eyes caught the flames of the fire. “What do ya mean?”

  “You seem happy here. I worry sometimes how you’ll find the city.”

  “But I’m from Alice.”

  “You were, maybe you’re not anymore though. You know, no one in the city calls it Alice.”

  Ari looked back at the ceiling. “I remember the parks. Big green places where ya could run or climb an’ still feel safe. An’ never bein’ hungry. An’ all the people were so beautiful. Ya know.” Ari looked at Starla. “A place like that’s for anyone.”

  “What else do you remember?”

  “I remember the lights at night, in every colour ya could think of. An’ the buildings. An’ everythin’ bein’ so clean all the time.”

  “I guess. But being away from it, in a place like this. It’s made me realise things. In the city, people might not like you.”

  “I don’ care about that. People are the same all over I reckon. Some ya can trust, an’ some ya can’t. Can’t trust no one in Cooper, that’s for sure.” Ari smiled. “Well, maybe Wheels, but that’s only cause he can’t run.”

  “In the city they hate outsiders. Pretty much the only ones are people who’ve only visited the outside. Just visit and you’re marked.” Starla briefly paused, then said, “I guess I’m marked now… But people who’ve lived out here? And even if you’re not an outsider, you have to live by the rules. You have to fit into the social order. You have to say and think all the right things all the time. I guess I worry about you after seeing you here.”

  Ari looked at Starla. “Ya don’t want me to come?”

  “It’s not that, just, I worry.”

  “Look sister, if ya don’t want me to come ya just say. But we had a deal ya know.”

  “No, really, it’s not that.”

  Ari sat up. “We had a deal.”

  “We still do.”

  “Then what?”

  Starla sighed. “It’s just…”

  “We had a deal so ya can save it.” Ari got to her feet and stormed out of the hut.

  What is her problem? I’m just concerned, that’s all.

  Starla got up from her bed and hobbled into the darkness. A short way from the hut, Ari sat on a rock. The dark silhouette of the rocky hills were just discernible in the moonlight. Starla hobbled over and sat on the rock next to Ari. Ari thrust something back into her pocket, as if she didn’t want Starla to see what she’d been holding. For a moment they were silent. Starla shivered and drew her arms around herself.

  Finally, Ari spoke.

  “I remember in the city I was never hungry. But in Cooper I was never not hungry. Ya can’t think when ya hungry. Hungry people can’t do nothin’ else but be hungry. I don’ wanna be hungry no more.”

  Starla reached out and took Ari’s hand. It felt warm.

  “Hungry people can’t build no city,” Ari continued. “Only work they can do is dig up salt for the city, and they don’t see nothin’ for it but a bit ‘a stale bread. In Cooper I’s just waitin’ to give up all hope an’ join the slave drivers in the ore mines. They say they feed ya there, but no one ever comes back.” Ari sighed. “There’s no hope stayin’ in Cooper. No future. Just hunger an’ salt an’ more hunger. And…”

  “What?”

  “It’s just, I ain’t had much to hope for, not in a long time, not till…”

  “I’m sorry,” said Starla. “I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I honestly didn’t. I want you to come. I want us both to go to the city. When my leg’s better we’ll go.”

  Ari turned to Starla and her eyes caught the moonlight. “Good, cause ya ain’t stoppin’ me now sister.”

  Chapter 26

  Max surveyed the swamp from the aircraft window. A long, brown river snaked through dense, green foliage. Much of the land was hidden under the forest canopy. These were tribal lands, but they were also the source of the city’s water supply.

  The aircraft flew low, following the course of the river as it cut through valleys and around rocks. Long shingle beaches flanked the river.

  There had to be signs of people breaking ground somewhere. Would people from Cooper come here?

  It was impossible to say, nothing of the people on the outside made sense. It was just as use, entrusting a task to a pigeon. But if they were to get back to the road, they’d have to cut across the swamp. Max was sure he was close.

  ∆∆∆

  One evening, Starla and Ari went over to Jirra’s hut to announce their intention to depart. From outside the hut, Ari called in.

  “Jirra.”

  The curtain was pulled aside and Jirra beckoned them in with a grin and a sideways dip of his head.

  Ari went ahead and, after a moments hesitation, Starla hobbled behind, ducking to get through the low door.

  In the centre of the hut, the suspended oil lamp gave off a rich, fatty smell. In the orange glow, ancient books, musty volumes like the ones left unread in the city archives, had been stacked floor to ceiling. A patterned curtain covered what must have been his sleeping quarters. Against one side of the hut were several square, metal cages, inside which hopped numerous tiny yellow and green birds. They twittered to each other, fidgeting with quick, delicate movements.

  “The birds,” said Starla.

  “Yeah,” said Jirra grinning. “These are my little ones.”

  He took a small, brown bag and from it he began pushing small seeds through the bars to the birds. They hopped towards his fingers, plucking up the seeds. He held the bag out to Starla.

  “Ya wanna?”

  Sta
rla hesitated a moment, then took a few seeds from the bag. She poked a seed through the tiny bars. A small, yellow bird hopped forward and plucked it from her fingers. It looked at her sideways with shiny black eyes, puffed its belly, and hopped away. Starla pushed more seeds through the bars and more birds skipped towards her.

  “See,” said Jirra. “They like ya.”

  “They like ya seeds,” said Ari.

  Starla ignored her and poked the last of her seeds through the bars. “What kind of birds are these?”

  “Canaries,” said Jirra. “I like ‘em. Somethin’ reassurin’ about ‘em I reckon. They’s workin’ birds. Folks take ‘em down the mines.”

  “Why?” asked Starla.

  “The air down the mine,” said Jirra. “If ya canary dies, ya know you’ll be next if ya don’t get up top quick. Beside, I like how canaries sing.”

  “So anyway,” said Ari. “We gotta go soon. Got places to be.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” said Jirra. “Ya need to get to Alice. We’ll take ya far as the dam. Then ya nearly there.”

  “We know the way,” said Ari.

  “Yeah,” said Jirra. “But ya friend ain’t strong.” He nodded towards Starla. “We’ll make sure ya right.”

  Ari looked down at her feet and sucked at the bottom of her lip.

  “We accept your help,” said Starla.

  Ari shot her a glance.

  “But we must go soon,” said Starla.

  Whatever it takes, she thought, we need to leave.

  Jirra nodded. “But first, before ya go an’ leave, I’ve somethin' I need to show ya. We can go now.”

  Jirra led them outside into the cool, dark night. Above, the canvas of stars twinkled. He led the way, out of the village and towards the big red rock. Following behind, Starla winced as her leg throbbed. They passed the rock and began to follow a path up a shallow hill.

  “No huntin’ this way,” said Jirra. “They keeps it sacred. But we’ll be right.”

  “Are we goin’ far?” asked Ari.

  “No, not far.”

  “What about Starla’s leg?”

  “It ain’t far,” repeated Jirra, “an’ if ya friend ain’t up to it, she ain’t ready to leave the village.”

  “I’m fine,” said Starla.

  “See, she’ll be right.”

  For some time, they trudged upwards towards the crest of the hill.

  Not far, thought Starla. This isn’t what I’d call not far, but I have to leave this place. If this is what it takes…

  Finally, they reached the crest. Below, glowing in the moonlight, was a vast, silver bowl, hollowed into the land. Perfectly round, it was the size of small lake. From four corners of the bowl ran steel cables, and in the centre, as if suspended from the cables, was a complicated triangular structure of boxes and pipes.

  “We’re headin’ there,” said Jirra, pointing towards the suspended structure.

  “What is this place?” asked Ari.

  “We call this the dish,” said Jirra. He led them to a metal walkway that ran above the dish and creaked underfoot.

  “This thin’ safe?” asked Ari.

  “Don’ worry,” said Jirra. “Its been ‘ere a long time.”

  Who’s worried, thought Starla. Following behind, she hobbled up the steps and onto the walkway.

  “Ya okay?” asked Ari.

  “I told you, I’m fine,” said Starla. She looked down from the walkway, far below to the concave bottom of the dish, and felt dizzy. She imagined herself falling and rolling down the vast, smooth surface, all the way to the bottom. The surface seemed barely blemished, as if it was purposefully kept clear of the encroaching jungle.

  They reached the structure in the centre and Jirra led them through a dark doorway. Starla could hear him fumbling in the gloom and she deliberately stayed close to the doorway. Then the cream glow of an electric light revealed a small room full of panels and switches. Cables ran everywhere, often bound together five or ten at a time. Gradually, the dials and switches began to glow. A large screen illuminated on the wall, projecting an image of a night sky.

  “Here,” said Jirra, “we can talk to the stars.”

  “Wha’ do ya mean?” asked Ari.

  Starla lowered herself onto a chair by a panel and stretched out her leg.

  “Me Dad brought me ‘ere,” said Jirra. “He showed me how to move the dish, to point it to the different stars. Today, mostly, the stars are silent. It had been the same for me Dad. Long ago maybe, all the stars talked, now they only hiss. Some pulse, like they may be machines, but they don’ talk. None except one.”

  Jirra walked around the panel and pointed to the star in the centre of the screen.

  Starla burst out, “Velle Stella.”

  Ari looked at her. “Vella what?”

  “Velle Stella,” repeated Starla. “The star that never moves.”

  “Ain’ heard it called that before,” said Ari.

  “We call it the Maka star,” said Jirra.

  I think I prefer Velle Stella, thought Starla. It sounds more like Starla.

  Magnified on the screen, the star shone faintly blue.

  “But ya right,” said Jirra. “The star that don’ move. The sun, the moon, all the other stars, they move right across the sky, but not this one. This one stay put, day an’ night. Even by day, when we can’ see it, we know it’s there. We can still talk to it usin’ the dish.”

  Jirra moved around the panels and began turning a series of dials. A speaker somewhere began to hiss.

  “Now ya can ‘ear the silence of the stars,” said Jirra.

  The hiss modulated.

  It’s just sounds like static, thought Starla.

  “This sound is all they make now. The sound’s not always the same, but still it’s always the same. But listen…”

  He gently turned a dial on the panel. At first there was only the hiss, sometimes pulsing, sometimes droning, and then a thin, crackly voice appeared. It was a man’s voice.

  “…one final time before the impact. The meteorite which, for the past nine years, organisations around the globe have tirelessly tracked, will impact the eastern seaboard at approximately 11:46 EST. We understand that, due to the angle of the approach, and the speed with which it is travelling, the most likely consequence of this impact will be a change in this planet’s orbit. God willing, this change will not be too great. In the short term, the planet will most likely be covered in a large dust cloud. Some regions will experience an unseasonal winter. During this period, stay in your shelters and avoid all unnecessary travel. When outside, wear your mask, and cover all exposed skin. Ration your food and fuel. Care for yourselves and your loved ones. Check on your neighbours. Community has never been more important than it is now. In the long term, the environment and the seasons of this planet may be permanently changed. The planet of the future may be one quite different from the one we have known up until now. But, my fellow citizens, know this. We will endure. Our species will survive, of this I have no doubt. Our courage and our ingenuity will ensure our place in whatever world we find ourselves. Until then, go to your shelters. Hold your loved ones close. And may God help us in our most desperate hour. Our generation, and the generations that follow, will meet the greatest challenge we, as a species, have ever endured. But we will rebuild our world. We will make it again. And we will put the things back, not as they are now, but as the way they should be. Perhaps we can build a world without borders, a world without walls. A kinder, more caring world, that shares with all the fruits of our endeavours, where one person can stand equal to another. So, my fellow citizens, as I speak to you this final time, that is the message I wish to leave you with. My hope that a better world can be born from our heavy sacrifice. That future will be up to you, and the world will be what you make it. Now, I wish you all good night and good luck. I shall join my loved ones and there I shall pray. Tomorrow, the world shall be very different. God bless us all.”

  Following the message, a
tune was performed on brass instruments. Starla looked up at Ari, who was chewing at the bottom of her lip, and then across the Jirra.

  “I don’ understand,” said Ari.

  “A meteorite,” said Starla.

  “What’s one’a them?” asked Ari.

  “It’s a rock that falls from space,” said Starla.

  The tune stopped and the message began to repeat.

  “My fellow citizens, it is with a heavy heart that I address you now, one final time before the impact. The meteorite…”

  Jirra silenced the voice. “The star that speaks.”

  Starla massaged her leg. “The message sounds like it started out here on the ground.”

  “Yeah,” said Jirra. “Sometime I think this. But the way I figure, Maka speaks to us in many ways. And surely, only Maka could put it there, so high in the sky.”

  “In the city,” said Starla, “there are stories of people long ago who visited the stars. People could have put it there. Probably the same people who built this dish even.”

  Jirra stroked his beard. “Perhaps.”

  “I don’ think that voice sounded like the Maka,” said Ari.

  “What does the voice of the Maka sound like?” asked Jirra.

  “Dunno. Not like that though. I don’t think the Maka needs words see. Ya feel ‘im.”

  Jirra grinned. “Its like I say. Maka speaks to us in many ways.” He raised his finger to Ari. “Ya sound like the shaman. He tells me somethin’ very like this. But if this be, Maka comes to me like this. I grew up in the bush, not in the city. But without this place, I couldn' believe in no Maka. I could believe in the emu bush an’ the old wisdom, but in no Maka. But then I ‘ear this voice, I know Maka finds ‘is way with even me. When my father found the Maka star spoke, he were shunned by the shaman. I am shunned too. But he’s a nice man, the shaman. He like my canaries. Bein’ shunned ain’ so bad.”

  “Why did you bring us here?” asked Starla.

  “To show ya,” said Jirra. “So ya can ‘ear for ya self before ya go to Alice. See, people don’t go from ‘ere to the city. Not till you. Ya can take this message to them. No more walls. Maka wants things back where they belong, the way they shoulda been always. And that means no more walls.”