We start walking to the Four-Way for the community feast. My stomach grumbles. We didn't have lunch. However, my stomach has grumbled before and it'll grumble again. The late afternoon sun is the only thing in the sky besides the couple of drones circling the area. (GlobalGov's eyes in the sky.)
Before the GlobalGov, before the war and its devastation, before there was me and Crinae and Elody, my parents had jobs. Dad told me adults went to work every day to make money. Money went to buying food and clothing and houses. Children went to school as their job. Thinking about that makes me want to laugh. I couldn't imagine going to a place where there were lots of my kids my age and all we did was sit in a room and listen to teachers all day.
There's too much to do to be in school for six hours now. There's getting water. Getting food. Finding shelter. Gathering, bartering – the list never ends.
Dad used to be a meteorologist in the ministry of environment. He was some kind of weather-related government man when the world was made up of different countries and we were called Canada. I really don't know what being a meteorologist means. My father explained it once and I wasn't really listening. (I was thinking about how to steal Crinae's piece of bread without getting caught. I got caught.) Dad had something to do with predicting forecasts and telling people if it was going to rain or snow or not. (Which would be a big NOT these days.)
Mom was a professor. She still is – for us. I think she taught physics at a university. There's only one university left in our world and it's only for those who want to train for the GlobalGov. Dad told us he's never going to let his children attend the Global Government Institute of Learning University (The GGILU) even if Sebastian himself pays for us all.
Mom's lectures can be boring (who cares about centrifugal force?) but sometimes Syon and his sister Eden or other kids from 33 come for tutorials. If there's a course Mom isn't familiar with, we're sent to another teacher. We learn French from a neighbour who lives a few doors down from us. Our Japanese teacher, Mrs. Iawte, is nearby too. We say hello to her when we see her along the path to the feast.
The jaunt to the Four-Way is a hot and a fast one. No one wants to be the last one to arrive and be accused of lollygagging to Sebastian's celebration. We all walk after our father and mother in a straight line – oldest, middle and youngest. There's a long stream of folks heading to the event with us. We're all dressed in our finest. (I wouldn't call this raggy brown sweater my "finest.")
Some men have suits on: real suits like they used to wear before the war. I don't know how they can deal with the wool in the heat. Some women have fancy dresses on, pink and red and yellow. No green ones. Kids of all ages wear nice trousers and jackets or coats. Everyone appears better dressed than us.
Our arms are full of food, though, just like everyone else. Drool slides down my bottom lip when a man walks by with a pile of asparagus on a large platter. That's going to be tasty. This feast is a time where many can showcase talents such as baking and cooking, and show off that they have money to buy some of the best things around.
From halfway down the hill, I see Motos forming a ring around the Four-Way. Their navy blue uniforms make dark marks against the brown sandy ground. Every settler's name has to be recorded before we're let into the feast. If anyone is missing, the Motos will find them. Everyone must be at the feast for Sebastian.
Before the war, Lucius Sebastian was a nobody who was trying to work his way up the federal political ladder. During the fighting, Sebastian claimed to be a peacemaker and acted as a mediator to broker the truce between the 134 different countries involved in the war. He talked a few nations into signing treaties and once everything was said and done, he seized what he could. He took all of Canada and the northern parts of the United States as well as decommissioned armies, navies and air forces and commissioned new ones.
Dad told me no one saw it coming. Sebastian was respected as a man of honour. People admired him and thought he was a fair and honest man and would be a good leader. But he began hording food and water and building up his militia. He proclaimed himself President Supremeness Emperor of Every Nations and the whole world. It's a hilarious title, says Dad, because the Supremeness leader of the GlobalGov only rules one continent so far. But he's not stopping at that. Besides, Every Nations is bad grammar.
The view of the Motos down below makes me pick up my pace.
"Naia, you're dropping potatoes," says Dad, turning the S into a hiss.
I glance back and see a small blob of white on the brown Earth.
"Oops," I say and go to pick it up.
"Leave it!" says Dad. "Just because we eat food that's been dropped in the dirt doesn't mean everyone else does."
Mom puts a hand on his arm but he jerks it away.
"Sorry," he says, bowing his head. "I hate these things."
A few more strides and we're at the wall of Motos. Men and women in heavy navy uniforms stand should-to-shoulder. There's not one smile among them. A young Moto, tall with broad shoulders, waves us over.
"Names?" he asks, towering over Dad.
"Dimitri, Peggy, Naia, Crinae and Elody Booth," says Dad.
The young Moto checks us off his list and gives us a smile that lights up his dark brown eyes.
"Enjoy the festivities," he says with a wave of his arm.
"One question," says Dad.
"Come on, Dimitri," says Mom, taking his hand and trying to pull him onto the fairgrounds.
Dad's not budging.
"You know our names, what's your name?" Dad asks the young Moto.
He laughs and offers his hand.
"Greg."
"Greg," says Dad, ignoring the man's hand and standing a little taller. "Don't get heat exhaustion."
Once past the Moto ring, the festivities stretch so far that I can't see the end. The air shimmers from the sand and heat in the air. It doesn't stop me from clearly sensing the delights.
Performers are everywhere and have the most intricate costumes. Silver and gold and all shiny and sparkling. The entertainers are running or jumping or singing or playing music or making people laugh. I want to skip around with everyone. Elody already is.
"Stop dancing," says Mom. "Wait until we drop everything off at the main pavilion. Then you can do whatever you want."
The main pavilion is in the middle of all the action. There are long tables and benches set up in the massive tent. The food is at one end but nobody is helping his or her self yet. Eating starts at midnight because that's officially when the war ended. It's also when the long speeches come out.
Large posters of Sebastian hang everywhere. There's a picture of him above the community bulletin board (an information board). In the poster, the GlobalGov leader's silver hair is combed back from his strangely unwrinkled face. Most of the people I know who have white hair, have lots of wrinkles. Not Sebastian. His eyes are green and sparkle with intelligence...or that's what we're told.
In another poster, the GlobalGov leader has four arms (interesting!) and stands with them outstretched, like points on a compass. On each side of him is an earthly element. For air there are swilling grey and white clouds (we don't even have any clouds.) For fire, there are flames softly warming a frying pan full of sausages. (We don't have any sausages either.) For water, there's a cool blue lake with a mountain reflected in it. (Mountains we have. Lakes, not so much.) Lastly, for light, there's a beautiful rosy sunrise coming up over a large city. The city is Newtopia and it's the seat of the GlobalGov. It used to be called Settlement 416 and even farther back – Toronto.
Other banners display show scenes of Sebastian presiding over the GlobalGov, shaking hands with old people, kissing babies and paddling a canoe. There are pictures of him dancing in the rain, being bundled up in the snow and surfing on an ocean. (Dad says he personally has never surfed but he thinks Sebastian is standing on the board the wrong way.) The GlobalGov leader could be called handsome. There's one image where he's wearing a white t-shirt with a deep V-neck displaying his big chest muscles. He's holding a marigold in his left hand and it kinda works for him: except there's always that smile. Sebastian smiles broadly in all his pictures and always with a touch of arrogance that makes me queasy.
I turn from the posters and put my potato platter down amidst the rest of the fare. There's so much food and so many dishes I can barely tear myself away. Until our parents say we're free to go wherever we want. As long as we don't talk to strangers.
"Naia," says Mom. "You watch Elody and Crinae."
My happy bubble bursts.
"No way!" I say, stomping my foot on the ground. "That not fair."
"Who said life was fair?" Mom says, her face screwed up like she's about to burst into tears. "You three need to be together. Please, Naia, please."
I see Mom needs a break.
"All right," I say, kicking at the dust I just brewed. "Let's go, kids."
I leave the tent with my sisters. I walk slowly while Elody sprints ahead. Crinae follows a bi behind me.
"Where to first?" she asks.
"Dunno."
We stroll around the fair. Elody runs back and forth from this place, to that place reporting on all the awesome stuff she's seeing.
"Hey! Over here!" she says, clapping her hands. "There's a man selling beautiful material."
"This woman is selling sea shells! Shells from the old sea!"
"There are real shoes in that place!"
"Wow! If your rock hits the middle of the dirt circle, you win a prize!"
"But look at the prize," says Crinae, pointing to someone who had just "won."
"Oh," says Elody, her blonde head drooping. "Old buttons."
Her head picks up again when she hears the laughter of kids. On a small patch of land off to the side of the festivities, a group of kids are throwing a ball, a real rubber ball that bounces high into the air. Our ball at home is made out of rags and thuds at our ankles.
"Come play!" a boy shouts to us.
"Should we?" I ask my sisters.
"Yep!" they say and we run off to join the group.
It's great fun and we exhaust ourselves running after the ball, trying to keep it away from the others. When I stop to throw the ball, I notice Syon and his sister Eden at the edge of the field.
With my attention off the ball in those few seconds, it's taken from me. By my own sister. Crinae is going to be faster than me soon.
"She's good," says Syon when I jog up to him.
"Not that good," I say. "You and Eden can join the other team."
I run off to chase Crinae. Everyone is laughing and giggling and teasing each other. Then...we hear it.
A low rumble. A hum. The hair on the back of my neck stands on edge. The sound isn't disappearing into the festival noise. In fact, it's starting to overlay the music and revelry.
What is it?
The noise gets louder and louder, coming closer and closer. We stop in our tracks. Listening. Waiting. The field is shaking and vibrations move up my legs and make my gut spin, sending bile into my throat. I cough to clear it away.
"Let's go," I yell to my sisters and Syon and Eden.
"What do you think it is?" Syon asks.
"I don't know," I say. "We should all go," I tell the players on the field. "Go find your parents."
Some take my advice while others keep passing the ball silently back and forth. I've warned them. That's all I can do.
"We have to find Mom and Dad," I say to my sisters. "And Syon's mother too. Hold hands and stick together."
"Are you sure this is the right way to go?" asks Syon as we hit a wall of people. "Everyone is going the opposite direction."
Adults are ducking into vendor booths or else streaming away from the middle of the Four-Way, where the feasting pavilion is. Where we're headed. We push hard against the crowd. People are aggressive and push back. Poor Elody keeps getting knocked down. Syon picks her up and puts her on his back.
"What's going on?" he shouts to the crowd.
"More Motos," spits out a man in passing. "Top ranked Motos, the SCM. I would be going the other way if I was you."
The Superior Constable Motos, the SCMs, are a special Moto force. These Motos are called in when there are riots. Why are the SCMs at our tiny celebration? Nothing gets out of hand here. There are no protests. Nobody disobeys the laws. No settler here is a threat to Sebastian.
After several minutes of staggering against the masses, the din of the motorcycles is so loud I can't help but put my hands over my ears – dropping Crinae's hand in the process. Syon lets Elody down on the ground. He motions with his head to keep going to the pavilion that's still many steps away.
Then, just like that, the engines are cut. It's quiet. It's calm. Only for a moment. Then the peacefulness is smashed as chaos descends upon the area. People rush into booths and shut curtains and slam doors. We're stuck in the middle of the confusion. Suddenly, we're the only ones standing outside. Not good.
"Quick," I say. "Find somewhere we can duck into."
There are numerous stalls around us. We try to enter one on the left but the fabric doors are clenched tight by someone inside.
"Please let us in," I plead. "Please."
"It's full in here," says a thin scratchy voice. "Scat!"
A second tent gives us the same reception. We're about to try a third when a woman opens the doors of a stall across the lane and whispers to us.
"Syon, there's room in here."
It's his aunt. We rush through the doors and into the small canvas tent. Syon's mother, Shela, is in here, too. She's sitting on the floor.
"Mom!" says Eden as she rushes to hug her mother tightly. Syon kneels beside them.
"Do you know where Naia's parents are?" he asks.
"No, sorry, I don't," says Shela. "There's nothing we can do right now. We'll search for them after the Motos leave."
"What do they want?" I ask while trying to quell the heat of terror that's rising in my body.
"Looking for insurgents, Resistance fighters."
"Here?" I ask. "No way."
"Yes, here," says Syon's mother. "We have to be quiet. It's best you say nothing when the Motos come through."
The scuffling of a hundred boots on gravel is not a pleasant sound. Rock on rock under the hardened heel of hardened Moto. Grating and scratching and boring into my skull. Then the screams start. I hear crashes and bangs and shouts as the unseen Moto force begins to topple tents and claw merchandise apart and attack settlers. The shrieks of horror won't stop. For the second time, today I cover my ears with my hands. But nothing shuts out the cries for help.
The doors of the stall are suddenly cleaved open by a pair of meaty hairy hands. A giant of a man stands in front of us, blocking the sunlight from illuminating his face.
"Stand at once," he barks.
We do as we're told. He motions for four or five other Motos to come in. They're all dressed the same way: navy blue leather gear with a gun in a holster on the side. The SCMs appear to eat well as none are skinny as us settlers.
Sebastian's police force searches the booth, knocking over bolts of fabric, ripping cloth and sending stuff hurtling to the floor. I gather Elody and Crinae close to me and my youngest sister hides her face in my sweater. I hope she can't feel my whole body shaking just like hers.
"Nothing here, sir," reports one Moto to the blond giant.
The giant nods and points to the door. The Motos file out. The large man (who I'm secretly calling Goliath) sits down on a stool near to Syon, who looks tiny next to him.
"Please," says Goliath with a smile. "Sit down."
We immediately do what we're told. Actually, maybe my legs buckled.
"So," Goliath continues quietly. "You've all come for the festivities?"
It's a simple enough question. One I should be able to answer immediately but fear stomps on my throat.
"Cat got your tongue?" Goliath asks us as he smiles again. Is the smile supposed to help us relax? It has the opposite effect. The smile displays tiny brilliant white teeth. White, white, white. There's something wrong about their perfection. They're too flawless.
"Let me see," he says and gracefully leans forward. He cups his hand under Syon's auntie's chin and then in one movement, he opens her mouth, grasps her tongue and yanks it. She screams in a garbled mishmash of blood, pain and anguish. The giant lets go and the aunt clutches her mouth while Syon's mother reaches out to her.
"Burc!" shouts Goliath.
A short but burly Moto enters the room and grabs the injured woman by the neck. She fights him with her bloodied hands while the rest of us watch him drag her out of the booth. Syon's mother, wailing, holds on to her sister's tunic but Burc kicks her off.
Goliath smiles his smile while wiping his hands on his trousers.
"Well, now that that is over with, I will talk," he says. "We are here today under the auspicious of his honour president prime minister Sebastian. He would like to be here himself but unfortunately he had to be in our capital of Newtopia for ceremonies. He does send his regards.
"As you probably know, there was an attempted infrastructure infraction a couple of days ago in the Settlement 104, what you used to call the Valley. We would like to know who has been to that settlement recently."
Goliath folds his arms. He looks like a mountain. I wonder if he's going to stay like that all evening and night.
"Sir," starts Syon's mother, sniffing back tears. "We know nothing. I am a poor woman with children. You can't expect us to know anything."
The Moto doesn't blink as he lets Shela's comments float away. Outside, the cries for help are decreasing. I'm not sure if this means the Motos are almost done or they've found the people they were looking for.
"Sir, please," tries Syon's mother again. "We do not know what you are talking about. There are only women and children in this stall selling cheap cloth. We know nothing of the activities of our settlement or any others."
Goliath refolds his arms. Coughs. And stays put. Crinae is wiggling around. Wiggling and waggling. I feel her body sway back and forth under my arms. I hope she doesn't catch his gaze. I want to tell her to sit still but I don't dare open my mouth and show my tongue.
"You little one," says the giant after spotting Crinae's squirming. "What have you been doing these days?"
Crinae looks up at me with her eyes as large as can be. I narrow my eyes to warn her not to talk but she turns back to Goliath.
"Playing with my sisters and friends," she says quietly, "and doing my chores."
"Ah, I used to love playing with my brothers," says Goliath. "Lots of fun chasing each other through the trees. Ha! We never wanted to do our chores. They took too much time. Do they take you a lot of time too?"
"Not all of them take a long time," she says.
"What do you have to do?" he asks in a soft tone.
"Sweep the front room, help with supper."
"Good, good," says Goliath. "I bet you're a great assistant to your parents. Do they tell you this?"
"Sometimes."
"Only sometimes, hey? They should be telling you all the time what a good girl you are."
I get what this hulking man's trying to do. Make friends with Crinae and then get her to give him information.
"Mom bought us new clothes for today," I say to my sister.
Crinae turns around again and looks at me before she speaks to Goliath.
"Yeah. I'm wearing my new skirt."
"Oh!" says the big man with his terrible smile. "A pretty yellow one. It's nice. How did your mother manage to buy you such fancy clothing?"
"I don't know."
"I see, I see," Goliath says while nodding. "Listen Crinae, have you seen any new people around? Noticed anything different like lights outside at night? Maybe a neighbour who never gets water but always has a full bucket in her house?"
"Ummm..." she says.
"Have you ever heard anyone talking about amber? Amber is a nice smooth brown rock. Ever seen it?"
"I, I don't think so."
"That's not very clear, Crinae. Have you ever heard of Aeternians?"
"She doesn't know anything, sir," I say. "She's only a kid."
"Silence," Goliath growls. "Don't speak for her or to her. Crinae, what have you seen?"
"Nothing," she says and hangs her head.
"That's apparent," utters the Moto. He lets out a short huff of breath and stands up. I wish he would just open the door and disappear.
Goliath stares at us again before he leaves. He must realize we don't know a thing because he flounces out the door. The movement does not befit a man of huge stature and as soon as the curtains fell, we heave into nervous but quiet laughter. Except for Elody, whose tears are swallowed up immediately when they hit the dry, dry ground.