Daughter of Dust or the Creation of Catastrophe

Chapter One: Genesis

"Once, there was nothing. Darkness wasn't yet grim, and lightness wasn't yet bright. But to fill the void of this lonesome nothingness, the universe shaped itself in the Great Ajar. Things that are, things that will be, and things that were, took shapes and sizes. Space and time formed in the glittering aftermath of an explosion. Omnipotent beings sprawled out and established their dominance. However, chaos ensued for another billion years, for without chaos, the lives of all would not struggle to exist. Without chaos, nothing would persist. Chaos is an anchor of the world."

⸺ Provenance 1:1-11

The floor beneath her rattled. The boom shook the stacked homes they called Clambers.

Yet another attack. Kayla shivered. Her dormant and tired eyes glanced through the semi-window her brother Kaif had made a week ago. The mushroom cloud formed far in the distance, near the Wall which separated downtown Balla Cita from the Outsides. It dissipated instantly, drooling into the grey atmosphere.

Kayla, small and fragile, shuddered when she shrank towards the couch Kaif brought in years ago. She liked it there, her skinny body sinking into the plushie, coating her with comfort and seemingly protecting her.

She glanced around. Her brown eyes, signifying the defiant dust of the world which got thicker every day, landed on petty details of her Clamber home.

Where is he? She thought. Kaif said that he would be home within 24 hours. It had been two days, and her big brother told her to never under any circumstance call him. He had a sensitive profession, much like everyone else in the Clamber. She almost couldn't help it. She stared blankly at the holographic image emitted by her ImmersiveWatch on her wrist, pained by the fact that she could just press the dial button.

She sighed and decided against it.

Another hour passed. Sirens glided in the air, all probably responding towards the explosion. Kayla prodded along her container home back and forth, anxious.

What if he's gotten into a fight? What if the DCs got him, and now he's been locked up... or beaten down? What if he's in that explosion? What if... what if...

"What you still doin' up?" A voice, sluggish but crude, streamed to the empty living room. It was Kaia, Kayla's bigger sister. Her sleepy eyes still contained deadly coldness.

It was eleven in the evening, and tomorrow was Wednesday, meaning she had to go to school early in the morning. She never looked forward to it anyways.

"Kaif hasn't retu⸺"

"Don't wait for him," Kaia interrupted. "He can take care of himself. Go back to sleep. I'm not dragging you from bed tomorrow."

"But⸺"

Before Kayla could reason, her sister disappeared and slammed the door behind her. She could only sigh.

She headed towards the window, her eyes adjusting to the prosthetic glimmers of neon lights outside. The warm wind of East Balla Cita washed her face for the last time. She pulled the window and walked back.

Sinking her body back into the couch, she waited for another ten minutes before calling it a day. She hugged her knees, her eyes adverting left and right as if searching for something that would harm her, expecting some jumpy explosion to finally hit her in the face and end all her nightmares.

Did she fear death, or did she long for it? She could never tell.

Where are you, Kaif?

Thousands of Clambers interlocked with one another below the massive infrastructure that was Highway One, and Kayla calmed herself with its stacking structure. The mushroom cloud was gone. The Clamber returned to normal, containers stacking upon containers in adjacent manners, all clinging to the concrete pillars of a flyover. Coated with the ever-restless radiance of digital billboards and holographic advertisements, the Clamber seemed to be a merry place for party-goers. A place where thousands of secrets lay. Murder, death, and abuse unfurled in the platforms, all ignored by the corrupt DC enforcers, fading into a forgetful history.

Thousands of people live in the Clamber. That thought emerged in her mind every time she let herself weave through the endless stream of thoughts. All suffering, like me. All in need of escape, like me. How did the Great Mother do this? How did she emerge from a commoner, suddenly immortal and powerful, to lead millions of people under her banner?

Finally, her eyes tweaked to the stapled picture of a woman so white, her skin seemed fragile that it could peel off. The picture wasn't a fancy thing. The painted woman was the Great Mother Empress Mara, who ruled the world two thousand years ago in the name of the Mono Empire. No one knew how she originally looked, but through written texts and archaeological shreds of evidence existed a beautiful woman whom many nations praised. Thus, illustrations would be the only medium for her followers to picture her appearance.

Kayla brought herself down and knelt, her tan skin a muddy nuisance to the darkness in the living room. She clasped her hands and prayed.

Don't let this world forsake me. Protect me always, Mother Mara, and protect both my brother and sister, for they are only what I have. Bring peace to our country, so we can feel safe without the thousands of minutes spend worrying about the fate of our lives.

After the prayer, Kayla snatched an ugly doll from the wooden desk and headed to her room which she shared with Kaia. It was a small thing, cloistered on the back of the house with not enough room for the two of them to stand at the same time.

She climbed the top bunk and sank in the pillows, muzzling her ears from the constant sounds of moving things⸺ the constant movements and vibrations of cars, of loud music, of screams from neighboring houses, of advertisements bleaching the sides of Clambers.

Lilith, the ugly, humanoid doll Kaif gave her years ago, lay comfortably within Kayla's embrace. Its button eyes stared into the blackened ceiling which Kayla refused to look at. It was a very uninteresting splotch of burnt asbestos.

After a struggle, Kayla drowsed.

⸺

"Wake up, you knob!" Kaia shook Kayla's shoulder before she groaned.

When she opened her eyes, all she saw was the ugliness of her sister. She was half-dressed, her hair a messy knot of strings. Her eyes were bleakly red above her tan cheeks which had been emblazoned with tears.

"You're not going to school today," she said abruptly. "Your brother's dead."

___

Source of Cover Image: https://id.pinterest.com/pin/737957088950093114