In the ceiling, there’s a window, and through the window comes the sunlight, its beam
catching shining dust motes in the air. The sun makes a rectangle on the floor, which moves
as the sun moves. Jal can’t move and he can’t speak- not him, not any of the others- all of
them stretching endlessly down both sides of the corridor- all of them have his face.
It’s very quiet.
A doctor comes, holding a pale blue light between his hands. The doctor is his twin as well.
The doctor holds the light up in benediction before placing it against Jal’s chest, rubbing the
light with both his hands, whispering, pressing it inside.
It hurts- but Jal’s face can’t change expression, and he can’t make a sound. The blue light is
inside of him, the pain getting worse every moment. The doctor, smiling in a friendly way,
shows his empty hands. Reaching up, the doctor touches the face of his twin, running his
hands lightly down his cheeks. Slowly, the doctor’s expression changes to one of
recognition- terrified, he jerks his hands away, fleeing down the hall, footsteps silent.
The dust motes swirl rapidly in his passage before resuming their slow, graceful orbits.
The rectangle of sunlight moves along the floor in the passing hours, stretching out like a
conjurer’s trick until it grows dim. The distortion of a soul dims the light further- its face is very
familiar- he studies it- difficult, very difficult- the pain, and the soul’s face is mutilated.
The soul, however, is making an effort- it wants to be recognized. As each line, each feature,
becomes plain, he finds that he is able to anticipate- he knows what it is. Terrible realization
comes as the last fragments fall into the empty spaces- he doesn’t want them to, but there’s
nothing he can do to stop them. The puzzle is finished; the portrait is there, staring at him with
its flaw, its beautiful flaw. He closes his eyes, breathes, opens them.
Light filtering through the window, the portrait still there- was it different?
Jaldeja, lifting his hand, shades his eyes. “Kat?”
Katya, a dark shadow against the window, sits hunched over on the foot of the bed. The sun’
s pure white light wavers behind her in the languid distortion of morning.
“I like watching you sleep,” she says, hugging her knees. “What were you dreaming about?”
Jaldeja sits up, pulling the sheet down to his waist- he’s covered in sweat. Leaning back
against the coolness of the plaster wall, he closes his eyes, breathing deeply. The sweat
evaporates, cooling him down. He almost falls back to sleep again.
“Well?” says Kat.
“I don’t remem- I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “Have you ever tried to read words
in a dream?”
“Yes,” she says. “I can’t. The words are there, but they don’t mean anything- no, it’s not that- I
just can’t understand them. They’re important, and the answer’s there, in front of you, but you
can’t see it.” Kat smiles. “Or won’t.”
Jal feels a stab of pain and irritation.“What? Were they back again? Which one?”
“A Crossover.”
“Can you still see it?”
“Part of it’s there- it’s trying to talk to you,” Kat whispers. “Can’t you hear anything? Listen!”
Jal’s breathing becomes more shallow- he swallows deeply as he closes his eyes. “No- stop
it!”
Katya leans over, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Jal!”
His eyes open suddenly, pupils wide and empty- he begins shaking, his breath short and
rapid.
“What did it tell you?”
“Nothing- it sounded like wind- or the ocean.”
Kat lets her hand fall and looks away. “And now?”
Jal gets up, letting the sheet fall off him, walking past Kat to stand in front of the open window.
Their apartment is situated in a cul-de-sac, dirty white stucco buildings with cracks running
up the sides, narrow alleys between them full of refuse and dust. Above the rooftops, pale
blue sky, towers of the city partially hidden by thin chemical vapors from the industrial district.
Listening in the still air, he can hear the factories- almost anything one could need could be
found in the city, if one looked long enough- anything else could be made.
A door opens in the building across the way- a man peers out, squinting in the morning light.
He emerges, carrying the front end of a long table, soon followed by a companion carrying
the back end. Two more people came out, carrying chairs, with others behind them carrying
fruit, bread, jars and bottles. Soon there is a crowd of several people, noisily setting things
up.
Faces emerge from other doors and windows, gazing sleepily out at the scene below.
People begin coming from these buildings as well, carrying more food, tables, and chairs of
different kinds.
“Looks like breakfast is starting,” says Jal.
“We shouldn’t go out yet,” says Kat. “The Crossover’s still there- it might frighten people.
What were you able to find yesterday?”
“Kimchee.”
“Kimchee?”
“Yes, here. See?” Jal walks across the room, opening his canvas knapsack for her to see.
There are three jars, shining dully in the room’s light. “They were in a wooden box. The lid
had some writing on it I couldn’t understand. When I opened it, these were inside.”
Jal finds himself blushing. It seemed like he could never find anything truly useful.
Kat shrugs. “Well, it’s different.”
Jal shakes his head. A large part of the city’s economy was objects that were found- beneath
a pile of debris, in an abandoned building, buried or in plain sight. Certain people could find
certain objects- these could be traded, either for items other people found or for the exotic
machines and biologicals created in the factory district.
Kat easily found the things she needed to survive- mostly she found weapons. She traded
these for the cybernetics and biological enhancements they needed to survive. Without Kat,
Jal wouldn’t have been able to get the tailored nanites that he needed to breathe and cleanse
his system of the toxic elements that thrived in the city’s environment.
“Come on, let’s get dressed.”
That's it for now - I'll try to put up a new section each
week. In the meantime, email me your comments and
critiques and I'll post them on their own page.
Thanks for reading -
Cliff