Authors: Sonya Writes
“Out there,” he said. “Where you want to be.”
She touched his hand.
“I want to be here.”
“But you want to be there, more,” he said. “I can tell.”
Ayita wondered if he was right. “I wouldn’t know how to leave, even if I wanted to,” she said.
“You want one. You’ll find one.”
“I love you, Dakarai.”
He stopped carving.
“I love you. I wouldn’t leave without you.”
“How can you say that you love me?” he asked.
“Because I do.”
“I’ve heard that before.” He put down the stone and closed his eyes.
“I don’t remember who said it to me, but I know she isn’t here anymore.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.
Dakarai picked up the stone and finished carving her name.
11
The journey took three days. They ate while they walked and stopped only to sleep at night. Most of the people were fit enough
for the journey, but some of the smaller children and the elderly sat on the fronts of the carts as they were pushed by the strongest of the young men. Toward the end of the journey they came to a wooded area, and Ziyad explained that once they followed the path and came out through the other side, Ayita would be able to see their winter homes. The carts were lined up single file to fit through the path, and several people went ahead of them to clear out any overgrowth that would get in the way of the carts. But Ayita was impatient, and, though her legs were weary, she mustered up the energy and strength to run ahead of everyone else to see what these homes were like.
When Ayita came to the end of the path, her eyes widened and she stared in shock. She slowly stepped out onto the gravel road and studied the houses, taking a deep breath.
“I’m on Zozeis,” she whispered. She walked down the street and felt a chill go down her spine. The houses were exactly the same. They were lined up exactly the same. The streets were the same, everything was the same. The only difference she saw was that the houses here had windows, like on Earth. Ayita looked down the street she was on. “That’s Kara’s house,” she whispered. “And Acton’s.” Then she took off running. She came to her home and stared up at it. She walked slowly up the steps and pushed the door open. Inside the house was dark and dusty, and the light switch didn’t work, but light shone in through the windows, so she could see.
Ayita walked very slowly through her home and breathed in the memories.
Her mother, cooking in the kitchen. Her father, seated on the couch in the living room, deep in thought. Everything she remembered about her family and her life on Zozeis came alive here, in this moment.
Ayita walked up the stairs to where her room was and peered in.
The room was well lit because of the window on the far wall. Ayita stepped up to the window and stared out. This was where she had painted the flowers in her own room. Here there was a window instead. Her room, with a window.
Ayita smiled and tears came to her eyes.
She turned her back to the window and looked around the empty room. Along the wall to the right was where her dresser should be, and to the left, sticking out into the middle of the room, her bed. But this wasn’t her home. It was an empty shell that was only shaped like her home. She closed her eyes and she could hear her parents coming home; she could smell the pasta they were cooking downstairs. It was a suffocating but pleasant memory.
Ayita sighed. She leaned against the wall and slid down it so she was sitting on the floor. There was a tall rectangle of light on the worn-down
carpet, and the longer she sat the dimmer it became until the room was dark. Ayita closed her eyes and continued to sit there for a long time. She was going through the books again in her mind, re-reading their words and studying the pictures. She came across the picture of Etana dancing.
Ayita
lifted her heavy eyelids and stood up. She stood in the center of her room and started twirling. She twirled again and again, keeping that picture in her mind. For the moment, she
was
Etana, dancing with beauty and grace in an autumn-colored dress that flared out away from her body like a wave of wind and leaves. She was Etana, and her story would be told a thousand years later by people who never knew her. Ayita could hear her father whispering the words of Etana’s letters to her son. Those letters made such an impact on her life. Etana’s story was shared only in secret on Zozeis, but here it would not have to be a secret.
“I will share your story,” Ayita promised. “I will write it all down again and it will never be forgotten. I am here because of you. I am going to make a difference, like you wanted to make a difference. You made a difference,
Etana.”
She stopped dancing, stopped twirling, looked out th
e window again, and cried. When the tears finally stopped, Ayita curled up on the floor where her bed was supposed to be and fell asleep.
Ayita woke at dawn the next day, and when she stepped outside she suddenly understood why Panya said everyone became more forgetful in the winter. With rows and rows of houses to check, how would she ever find Dakarai? It would be easy here for people to forget to spend any time with each other at all. If a child wandered off to another house, how long would it take the parents to find him? Would they even remember to look?
Ayita walked slowly down the street, watching and listening for any sign of him, but the town was silent. While Ayita
slept, everyone else had unpacked the carts and their belongings. They’d all been up late working, so they were sleeping in this morning. Ayita found herself walking down the familiar path to the building that class was held in on Zozeis. She wondered what it would be like here, and since no one else was awake yet, she thought it was a good time to check it out. On her way, she walked past the park.
Suddenly her heart started racing
and her feet stopped moving. She looked through the park, into the trees beyond it. So far this town was an exact replica of her hometown on Zozeis. If the pattern continued, there would be a space center somewhere on the other side of those trees, only a few miles away. Ayita breathed deeply and brought her hand to the small wooden turtle hanging from her neck. She remembered Dakarai carving her name into the tree so he wouldn’t forget about her.
“Where would I go?”
“Out there,” he said. “Where you want to be.”
She touched his hand. “I want to be here.”
Suddenly she wasn’t so sure she’d told him the truth. Over the summer it was easy to forget the longings of her heart. She wanted to find Earth. She wanted to convince everyone on Zozeis that Earth wasn’t a lie. She wanted to tell them to hold their babies, paint pictures, and dance once in a while. But her heart was being pulled in two different directions now. She wanted to be here, too. She wanted to spend her life with Dakarai, swimming and laughing and loving each other. She wanted to watch the children here grow and continue developing their ability to remember. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. Her hand was still on the small turtle. If she truly had the option to leave, she wasn’t ready to find out. She slowly picked up her feet and continued walking toward class, but the park was always there in the back of her mind.
The outside of the building looked the same,
except that beyond it was nothing. There was no second district here, no set of buildings beyond the school. When she looked past the building she saw an empty stretch of land. She stepped inside; when she came to the first classroom, Ayita discovered that this was where they unloaded the food. Fresh fruits and vegetables were set out to eat first before they spoiled, and all the dried fruits and vegetables were stored away to last everyone through the winter. In the next classroom she discovered piles and piles of winter clothes. There seemed to be no organization to them at all. Clothing of all sizes for men, women and children were all mixed together in one giant mess. Ayita wondered if everyone just came to this room and picked through it all until they found what they wanted to wear during the cold winter months.
Ayita went next to the classroom that she always studied in when she was on
Zozeis. The door was closed and up above the door was a small sign that read LMC. She didn’t know what it meant, but she pushed the door open and her mouth dropped as her eyes became wide with excitement and wonder. There before her were shelves upon shelves of books, all together in a very cozy looking room with a large cushioned seat and tables surrounded by small wooden chairs. Ayita stepped into this large room, completely fixated upon the book-filled walls from floor to ceiling. She was almost afraid to touch them, to disturb this image. Then, touch them she did. She pulled down several books at a time, skimming through them and seeing that all of them were actually published on Earth. “I could spend my life in this room,” she whispered.
When she came to the next room, she saw a large black screen on the wall. The center of the room was empty, and in the back of the room there were long rectangular tables stacked to the ceiling with books that all looked the same. Ayita ignored the screen, assuming that like everything else here requiring electricity, it wouldn’t work, and she walked straight back to the tables of books. She picked one up and realized that every book in this room was a blank journal, just like the one
Panya had. Under the table were boxes and boxes of pencils. She turned around and walked past the screen, when suddenly it turned on by itself.
A woman who looked strangely familiar appeared on the screen. “Hello, people of
Adonia,” she said with a smile. “This is a recording; it will play automatically any time you walk past this screen. If you remember only one thing this winter, please remember to come to this room every day. My name is Etana, and I would like to teach you and your children how to read.”
Etana
. Could it really be? Ayita studied her face and realized that truly it was. Etana made this video, probably about ten years after the picture was taken of her dancing. Ayita watched several minutes of reading lessons and studied Etana—the way she moved, the way she spoke. She felt that by watching this video, she got to know her. Then Ayita smiled. Etana was using repetition to help the people here learn how to read. If someone truly came every day during the winter, they could learn and remember. It was a skill like mending clothes, swimming, or playing an instrument, and since skills were stored differently in the brain than personal memories, it made a lot of sense that the people here could learn to read. She already knew that Panya could read well enough to keep a journal, and Dakarai knew enough to write a note to himself and spell out Ayita’s name. Ayita wondered how long ago Etana put this video together and smiled knowing that it was still having an impact.
Then, upon realizing that the video in this room had power, Ayita tried the light switch. It worked. It wasn’t just the video; this building had power. She wasn’t sure how, but it had power. Ayita wondered about it for a
long time. She turned the light off again and continued her tour of the building.
There was nothing noteworthy about
any of the other rooms. They were mostly empty, though a few had tables or desks in them. They were classrooms, like the classrooms on Zozeis.
As Ayita walked back through the building to the main doors, she saw that the other people were up now and many of them were here. Six people were
already seated on the floor watching Etana’s video, and people were walking in and out of the room where the food was displayed. When she walked past the room full of clothes, she saw that there were indeed people digging through the clothes and pulling out whatever they wanted. Ayita decided she better do this also and grabbed for herself a thick coat, some pants and some long-sleeved shirts. In a far corner was a pile of shoes and boots. Ayita tried several on until she found a pair that fit. Then she left through the main doors to walk back to her home. On her way, she felt pulled toward the park, but as she came up to it, she saw Dakarai on his way in to eat.
“Hey!” she said, excitedly. “I was wondering where you were.” She tried to ignore the park calling to her from the corner of her eye.
He smiled at her. “Hello,” he said. “Did you already eat this morning?”
“Not yet. Where did you end up staying last night?”