Unfinished History
Created | Updated Sep 16, 2004
Part Seven
She stood in a wood-panelled room. Light came from bowls of oil mounted on the walls, in which floated burning wicks that trailed thin streams of black smoke up to the ceiling. Walls and ceiling both were streaked with soot from the lamps.
The floor was covered in a woven mat bearing a design in earthy colours - greens, deep blues, rusty reds. Dirt and dust obscured the details. A wooden table stood near the cold fireplace, set with two bowls, two spoons and two pewter goblets. All were empty, and dust obscured the detailed carving which appeared to cover their surfaces. She ran her fingers along the table surface, leaving trails in the dust. The trails revealed a finely polished piece of wood, the pride of any owner.
There were no chairs.
One window looked out onto a dark night. Snowflakes drifted past on the other side of the glass, and cold air seeped around the ill-fitting frame. She frowned. This wasn't right. Not her home. Somebody else's. Nobody lived like this.
You are here.
She spun, but there was nobody else in the room. There had been no sound.
We are also here.
Again, there was no source for the voice, no sound to convey the words, yet nonetheless she heard them.
'Who are you?'
There was silence. There had always been silence, but this was silence with the absence of communication. Then there was still silence, but words flowed again.
We are those who are also here.
The words drifted as if carried on an errant breeze. She strained to hear them - to understand them. More came, like a whisper on a sigh, or the release of gases from deep beneath the ground.
We are those who were here before.
'Show yourselves.'
Show? There was a pause, and it felt like a pause to gather thoughts from widely-scattered places. Ah. To make ourselves visible to you. You wish to perceive through sight what you already know. This pause seemed contemptuous. You have such limited perception.
A woman was sitting on a chair by the table. She was startling; tall and thin, she sat with a calmness which seemed unnatural in the extreme. Her arms were long, her legs were short, and she had too many fingers on each hand.
I see that you are not prepared to see us. Have you never encountered others not of your own species?
'I have not.'
Ah. A young race. You will find others.
'You said "us". I see only one of you.'
You see what we create for you to see. This is not us. This is merely something to comfort your sense of perception.
The woman on the chair was no longer there; the room was how it had been at the beginning.
'Why am I here?'
We made this place to talk to you.
'Why?'
You are here. We were here before. We are here now.
'You said you made this place -'
You must not be here.
'But you brought me here.'
We brought you to this place. We did not bring you to here.
'What do you mean?'
Those who lent their genetic material to make you came here with others of your kind. We are disturbed by your presence. You must leave.
'You live on Dira Tulag? But we've never seen any evidence it's been inhabited before.'
You have such limited perception. You failed to recognise the warning. Another warning has been sent. Heed it.
'Warning?'
Heed it and leave.
'What was the warning?'
A third warning will not be provided. Heed the second warning and leave.
'But -'
The room was slipping away. She struggled to stay there, clawed her way back into its sense of reality.
You are more perceptive than the others. You have talents they do not share. You will understand.
The room slipped away again, and she could hold it no longer.
Ocean. Clear sky with wispy, high ice clouds. Warm water welling from the ocean floor. Air rises, cools, descends. Condensation forms.
Planetary motion causes a rotation. Clouds begin to spin. More warm water wells up. More air rises, more condensation. More energy; more wind. Bigger, faster, stronger.
The storm moves toward land.
Arkyna awoke with her heart hammering in her chest, breathing shallowly, sweating despite the cool night air. The sky was clear, but she had to give warning. Another storm was coming, and this time it wouldn't leave anything behind.
