by Rayner Ye
Ting appeared and looked from side to side as if worried that someone might catch her.
“Where are you?” Aedre asked.
“A holo game room.”
“Oh, okay. Dad won’t give me any money.”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t think he would.” Ting cupped her hands around her mouth, looking as if she was attempting to whisper. It was loud enough for others to hear. “Listen. I did research. Listen carefully now, it very important. I found two advertisements. For two different positions teaching Mayleedian to Kuanjanese in Kuanja.”
Aedre shook her head and laughed. “I don’t wanna be a language teacher in Kuanja!” She wanted to say that Kuanja was backwards and even more corrupt than Nerthus. But Ting’s family came from Kuanja.
Something tugged her heart, like a small child trying to get attention from a parent. Mayleeda’s not the way.
“Sorry, Ting. Forgive me for my outburst. Why don’t they use airSphere interpreters instead?”
Ting looked around, cupped her hand around her mouth again, and whispered, “There’s a position in Rajka, that’s the capital city of Inarmuzza. You know Inarmuzza? Also called the Firesnake. It very poor and the tax on airSpheres too high, so no one use them.”
Aedre huffed. “I can’t imagine a place that doesn’t use airSpheres.”
“Other translation technology isn’t good enough. They have aurashields but a cheaper version than ours, without interpretation software. Androids are too expensive. They need real speaking Mayleedians, or like you, people who speak it as a first language.”
“I don’t like the sound of it, Ting.”
“Listen. The second position in Kuanja is in a rich country in the North. The country’s called Markaz and is enormous. Most of population lives in sky cities. Very nice place. It’s west of my country and pays lots of money. You go there, you can save enough to go to Mayleeda. Only need to work two Nerthus years. Then you can take cryosponge to Mayleeda. But you travel five Nerthus years because in opposite direction. Markaz has airSpheres, but so rich the people want humans to teach. Both positions pay your return ticket and accommodation.”
It sounded like a scam. “No way! That’s too good to be true.”Maybe the tachyon cryosponge was a cheap imitation of the real thing. She’d get cancer, and Kuanjanese medicine wouldn’t cure her.
“Look, if I you, I do it! Markaz’s capital, Ghani. So much money! My Mayleedian not good though, so I cannot. Only my Maozong any good. Tachyon thrust only take a bit over one Nerthus year from Nerthus to Kuanja. It take three times longer to Mayleeda. I message the site details. Must go now.”
Aedre would check it out on VR. She expanded her airSphere with her palms and stepped into it.
“VR. Ting’s first link in Northern Kuanja.” The institute was an all-girls boarding school in Ghani, the capital of the prosperous Markaz region in the northern hemisphere. The Markazian boarding school was a vast Biluglass sphere two miles above sea level, surrounded by blue sky. Her head spun, and she wobbled when VR took her outside to a transparent pedestrian tunnel.
She’d have a high salary and a luxurious lifestyle. That sky city was far superior to Nerthling sky cities. However, she’d have to teach a group of teenage girls throughout the day and into the evening. She’d be required to live with them. No privacy was offered.
The other teaching position was working fewer hours at a language institute in North Rajka. The capital of Inarmuzza—Rajka, was on a tropical island called Rajanakki. Inarmuzza was part of a string of eighteen thousand islands known as the Firesnake, which ran along part of Kuanja’s equator. The Firesnake was the poorest region on Planet Kuanja.
As Aedre left the institute, black smoke belched out of rusty buses, cars, and motorbikes. Internal combustion engines were still the main form of motive power. Key facts appeared in the air, listing the many factories in North Rajka. Also, it was on low land, hot, prone to flooding, and infested with mosquitoes.
Inarmuzza was the biggest Sattchi country in Kuanja. The people were called Native-Reds and had red skin in an array of shades. Their black and white hair was patterned in stripes or spots. Most passers-by wore cotton t-shirts, knee-length shorts, and sandals, though some dressed in various religious outfits. None had white skin like her.
A shudder ran through her and she inhaled sharply. Dad’s taunting voice echoed in her head. Should she suffer in an underdeveloped, polluted place to find freedom? She swiped the VR away and switched off her airSphere.
The desire to escape filled her. Her life had no meaning here. Maybe she could find meaning elsewhere. No one wanted her. She was a failure in Dad’s eyes, and Soozan was doing so well that Dad would barely notice Aedre’s disappearance. A return ticket to Kuanja’s Firesnake would offer her security in the knowledge she could come back.
The teaching job’s salary in Rajka was high compared to the Firesnake’s cost of living, and she’d live a comfortable life. Saving enough to get to Mayleeda would be impossible, but Sharr Shuvuu had told her Mayleeda was not the way. If Aedre applied for one of these jobs, everything would be ready for her on arrival, and a manager would meet her at Kuanja’s spaceport.
She opened a drawer and touched her secret blue pouch and a wooden pipe. It was the length of her hand and had patterns of flowers and leaves carved into its stem and round bowl. A feather hung from its neck.
At her command, Biluglass shell stretched and moulded into a transparent chimney. It tunnelled from her ceiling and formed an internal pod around Aedre and her bed, then stretched towards stars, zigzagging around sky structure.
She frowned on remembering her promise to herself, not to smoke leaf until the summer solstice. An owl hooted its consent in the distance, and she stuffed her pipe, inhaled the sweetness and lay back. Her chimney carried smoke above the highest public amenity pod.
Focusing into the distance, she watched carriages in maglev suction tubes flitting to and fro. Hover saucers on skywalks looked like blood cells meandering through veins. Self-extending pedestrian tunnels looked like tentacles of sea creatures in search of food.
The infrastructure was dense in this part of Oxfire. It accommodated a high population of students, research scientists, and medical professionals.
A Mayleedian lullaby drifted between her lips, bringing warm tears to her eyes. She missed speaking and singing in Mayleedian, but Soozan wasn’t interested in expressing their mother’s native language. Perhaps by teaching it, she could bring part of her mother back. She imagined her mother stroking her hair and nodding.
Aedre shook her head and sighed. Nothing would be achieved by dreaming.
“It’s now or never,” she whispered as she attached her resume.
An hour later, her airSphere pulsed red. A smiling woman with dark red skin and striped hair appeared.
“Hello, Aedre. I’m Zoze.”
Aedre’s heartbeat quickened, and she straightened.
“Nice to meet you.”
“I’m phoning from Mayleedian International in North Rajka. You applied to work here and consented to read about risks associated with travelling by cryosponge in a tachyon thrust shuttle.”
“Yes.”
“You speak native Mayleedian?”
Aedre switched to Mayleedian to answer. “Of course, I do.”
“When would you like to start?”
She took a deep breath. “Immediately.”
Temple
A high-pitched alarm broke the morning silence, and two heads emerged from sheets on the floor. Nul’s long black and white hair clung to his face.
Aedre attempted to smooth her matted curls. She’d probably sweated off all her makeup. No doubt, Nul would see all her freckles sprinkled across her nose. Inarmuzzans called freckles fly-shit.
Sunlight blazed through dirty net curtains and sent sweat running down her neck. She clutched the sheet to hide her small breasts.
Waking next to a stranger shouldn’t have felt pleasant, but it did.
The room no longer looked as romantic in sober daylight. An old-fashioned TV cramped a corner on a dusty table. Other ancient objects littered his place. Guitars, amplifiers, and DVDs. Strange for someone to have so many gadgets with knobs. Biluglass and airSpheres were too expensive in the Firesnake. Shame.
Clothes lay scattered around the filthy tiled floor. Who knew if they were clean or dirty? White paint, yellowed with age, peeled off walls, and mould grew in a corner. Never before had Aedre seen such unkept living conditions. Everything was so foreign and pre-historic here, even after a Nerthus year in the Firesnake.
Nul sat up too and leaned against his sofa. His reddish, toned torso contrasted against her plump pale arms. She sighed, wishing she was as fit as she’d been on planet Nerthus. She’d put on six kilos since coming to Kuanja.
He pushed his hair from his face, glanced at her sideways, sighed, and slipped on his underpants. She chewed on a fingernail as he kicked clothes aside to make a walking path. Couldn’t he at least put an arm around her or kiss her cheek?
“I have band practice.” He kept his back to her. “I’ll call you a taxi.”
Continuing to ignore Aedre as she dressed, Nul made a call and talked to someone in Rajka slang. He tossed her a T-shirt. “Put this on. You’re in a Sattchi country. In our religion, it’s disrespectful to expose that much skin. You should know that.” Still, no eye contact.
Her heart fluttered against her ribs like a caged bird. She didn’t see a problem with her vest, but pulled his t-shirt on anyway, too insulted to speak up. It drowned her.
As Nul parted net curtains, daylight cut open her dreams, and she sank in an ocean of cruel reality. He wasn’t interested in a relationship, only in taking her from behind and throwing her away like a broken toy.
A taxi honked and they stepped into the baking street. Nul smiled and looked at her for the first time that morning.
“Bye, Aedre.”
She was already hot in the face but grew hotter still, heart raging in silent anger. She climbed into the air-conditioned taxi as Nul retreated into his house. Although cool air freshened her sweaty flesh, if she didn’t breathe slowly, she’d fall apart.
The taxi drove through palm-lined streets. She would have walked home if Rajka’s air wasn’t so polluted. Needed to lose weight. Perhaps that was why Nul got rid of her so quickly—Inarmuzzans liked small and slender. Only older women were fat here.
Tomin would’ve never treated her like that. He would’ve hugged her and kissed her, made her breakfast. But he was a bastard anyway.
Resentment stirred in the pit of her empty gut, bringing thoughts of Mum to mind. Sitting idly in a taxi didn’t help. She usually kept herself busy when grief prepared to show its ugly face.
They passed rows of pretty white buildings, soon replaced by big, hideous grey ones near slums made from corrugated iron, cardboard, and plastic sheets. Congestion brought the six-lane road to a standstill. They stopped in the shade of a large concrete bridge, blackened by decades of pollution. People begging for money, street women and filthy children hovered around cars.
With a gangrenous stump for a leg, a beggar on crutches hobbled along the street.
Aedre covered her mouth. Why didn’t Inarmuzza’s government provide him with medical care?
She shook her head and looked away. “How can people live like this?” she asked the driver in broken Inarmuzzan. She waited for a response but never got one.
Comparing Rajka to Oxfire made her miss home more. Hover transport on crystal pathways pleased her eyes. Congested rows of carbon burning engines didn’t.
They entered her neighbourhood, where a ten-metre-wide open sewer cut through the centre of the main road. Mopeds and buses belched out clouds of smoke. Stuck in traffic again, she gazed at a tired, sad-looking couple on a moped. The young woman wrapped her arms around her companion’s waist and rested her red face on his shoulder.
Aedre’s heart raced with envy—what she’d give to be in their shoes. She longed for a man to lean on, for him to hold her.
The taxi halted, and she handed the driver scrunched-up money. The stench of raw sewage nearly knocked her over when she stepped out—home at last.
“Hey, dude,” echoed Mosh’s loud Armarken voice from upstairs. He walked down, wearing only shorts and carrying a towel. There was not an inch of fat on his muscular torso. Even though he was middle-aged, he looked good. She wasn’t attracted to him, though. Too old. A Sax, like her. She preferred Native-Reds and Jerjens these days.
She thought about the first day she’d arrived at their shared house. Her boss had shown her in to introduce them. “Aedre, Mosh, Mosh, Aedre. This will be your housemate and coworker. He’s been teaching with us for six Nerthus months.” Aedre had liked him straight away. He was friendly, helpful, and laughed a lot.
The first place he’d taken her to was a small gym across the road. Before they entered she’d thought it would be like the gyms in Oxfire, but it wasn’t. It was in a grubby small room in a block of flats and consisted of a bench, weights, and a rowing machine. No one else was there except an obese guy who owned the flat.
Gyms weren’t her thing. Union kept her body strong and flexible, and she worked out in her bedroom most mornings. She didn’t need to lift weights. Some Union postures used the weight of her own body to balance on her hands and forearms. She was still fat, though, couldn’t shift her excess weight. Ting had been right about tachyon cryosponge.
“Have fun last night?” Mosh’s biceps bulged as he dried his hair.
She faked a smile. “Yeah, thanks for asking.”
He laughed. “Nice T-shirt.”
“My Sattchi friend said my vest was too revealing.”
“Ha!”
“I need to take a shower.”
“Going to the Air Dome today?”
”No, that’s the weekend after next.”
“Cool, I’m heading to central Rajka soon.”
“Which girlfriend you meeting today?”
“Come on!” He covered his mouth, but a grin was still evident. “You know Juli’s the only woman for me.”
Same thing he’d said about Hanni. ”Have fun then. Tell her I said hi.”
When the door slammed, she burst into tears. How could she help herself? Cry on the floor? No, have a shower and perform Union. Slow breathing and mindfulness might help to calm her nerves. Who was she fooling? Nothing could ease her loneliness and grief, not even Union.
With Mum dead and no one to love, nothing helped. She’d hoped that speaking Mayleedian might make her feel better. But speaking Mum’s language every day reminded her Mum would never come back.
***
That evening Aedre messaged Nul. ‘Why were you so cold this morning?’
She sipped tea and waited, then made another cup and waited longer. She grew more anxious, and after waiting an hour, she typed, ‘Ignoring me?’
No response.
Ten minutes later, she left a voice message, “Why aren’t you answering?”
Her excitement rose when at last a message buzzed, but the words deflated her.
‘Sorry, Aedre. I’m engaged. She’s a strict Sattchi and won’t have sex before marriage. Thanks for the favour. Take care.’
Over and again, she read his message as she sank into the couch. “Thanks for the favour? Bastard.”
She rushed to the front door, yanked on her trainers, and ran as fast as her legs would carry her.
She had to lose weight and look sexy again. She had to lose the flab that’d grown around her stomach and waist, but tropical heat stirred her appetite, and Inarmuzzan food was delicious. Eating helped her feel better.
If only she could find a boyfriend who loved her, a soulmate. They could live together, travel to the beach at weekends, and make love, cuddle, and watch movies in the evenings. Her ideal man would be active, thoughtful, and good with children. Certainly not like the bastards she’d been unlucky enough to run across so far.
Pitying herself and c
ursing her fat body, she sprinted through empty streets and along the open sewer river.
Ting had warned her cryosponge would slow her metabolism and pack on the pounds. Sure enough, it had.
The odour coming from sewage assaulted her senses but not as much as the horrors on route—bony children digging through rubbish, old men scooping sewage water from the river to cook with, and infants walking barefoot in the streets.
What kind of place was this? Had she been so wrapped up in herself that she never noticed?
***
That night, Aedre awoke in a dizzy sweat and rushed to the toilet to vomit. The next day she phoned in sick. Perhaps it was her karma for screwing a loser.
When her health returned, she’d journey to the Otherworld after a Union session. Hopefully, Sharr Shuvuu’s protective energy would stop her being so needy. She needed physical and spiritual awakening. Perhaps she could ask her why she’d wanted her to leave Nerthus.
She slipped into sandals and grabbed her straw sunhat. Farther away from the main road, the sewage’s odour wasn’t as foul and grew fainter as she weaved her way through back-streets to reach a pharmacy. Her neighbourhood was surprisingly pretty with its quiet roads and whitewashed, flat-roofed houses. Only the main road and Sewage River were repugnant.
She chose a different route home and came across a small Feili temple she hadn’t known existed. Feilism conjured images of spiritual feigong fighters and meditating monks. She’d watched them dancing on her airSphere—flying kicks, twirling around, bringing invisible balls of energy forward, and moving backwards or sideways.
Near a Feili temple, she slowed down. She raised a trembling hand and forced herself to knock. A smiling Jerjen girl around her age opened the top half of the door. Her black hair was cropped like a boy’s, her cheeks dimpled.
“Feigong?” Aedre asked.
“Feigong, yes, yes.” She beckoned her inside.
Aedre slipped off her sandals and accepted a pair of red plastic slip-ons. The girl ushered her to a small white room. It had a polished bone-white floor and beautifully carved dark wooden furniture.
