I telled her then, we cudn’t cross that bridge. What? She twisted to fix my eyes. Zachry, are you sayin’ that bridge ain’t safe?
Now so far’s I knowed the bridge was strong ’nuff, see, I often taked Jonas gull-eggin’ northly when he was littler, an’ McAulyff o’ Last Trout went seal-huntin’ over it with his handcart most moons, but an’ Icon’ry dreamin’ din’t lie, nay, not never, an’ Abbess’d made me mem’ry my augurin’s for a spesh day an’ that day was now. I’m sayin’, I said, Sonmi telled me not cross to it.
Fear made Meronym sarky, see, she was jus’ human like you ’n’ me. An’ did Sonmi know we got a furyin’ swarm o’ Kona on our tail?
Pololu River is wide at its sea mouth, I teached her, so it ain’t whooshin’ deep nor its current so sinewy. The track forked b’fore the bridge right where we was, yay, an’ it leaded down jus’ a stretch away where we could ford the river. The hoofs drummed closer ’n’ closer, an’ soon the Kona’d be seein’ us.
Well, Meronym b’liefed my loonsome say-so, I cudn’t say why but she did, an’ soon the bright ’n’ cold Pololu was up numbin’ my wound but the horse was slippin’ diresome on the shingly riverbed. Padddooom padddooom, three Kona galloped onto the bridge an’ seen us, an’ the air round us quavered ’n’ slit with one crossbolt, two, the third hit the water an’ sprayed us. Three new Kona catched up the first three an’ din’t stop to shoot, nay, they was padddooomin’ ’cross Pololu Bridge to cut us off on the far bank. Desp’rate I was, cussin’ myself, Yay, we’re died lardbirds no frettin’, I was thinkin’.
Now you know when you adze down a tree for lumber? The noise after the last stroke, o’ fibers shriekin’ an’ the hole trunk groanin’ slowsome as it falls? That’s what I heard. See one or two Valleysmen crossin’ hushly with a handcart was one thing, but a gallopin’ horse was another, an’ six–seven–eight gallopin’ Kona armored warhorses was too much. That bridge busted like it was made o’ spit ’n’ straw, yay, struts snapped an’ plankin’ split an’ worn cables pinged.
It weren’t no little drop, nay. It was fifteen men high or more was Pololu Bridge. Down fell the horses, spinnin’ belly-up, the riders catched in their stirrups an’ all, an’ like I said the Pololu River weren’t a safe deep pool what’d catch ’em an’ buoy ’em up, nay, it was a crowded river o’ fat tabley ’n’ pointy rocks what busted their falls bad, diresome bad. None o’ the Kona got up, nay jus’ two–three sorrysome horses lay writhin ’n’ kickin’, but it weren’t no time for animal doctorin’, nay.
Well, my yarn’s nearly done ’n’ telled now. Meronym ’n’ me forded the far side, an’ I prayed my thanks to Sonmi tho’ there weren’t no Valleys Civ’lize to save no more, she’d saved my skin one last time. I s’pose the rest o’ the Kona platoon was too busy with their died ’n’ drowned to come trackin’ us two, yay. We crossed the Lornsome Dunes an’ fin’ly reached Ikat’s Finger with no ax’dents. No kayaks was waitin’ yet, but we dismounted an’ Meronym used her Smart on that crossbolt-mauled calf o’ mine. When she pulled the bolt out, the pain traveled up my body an’ hooded my senses so true-be-telled I din’t see the Maui kayaks arrivin’ with Duophysite. Now my friend had a choice to settle, yay, see, either she loaded me in that kayak or left me on Big Isle not able to walk nor nothin’ jus’ a short ride off from Kona ground. Well, here I am yarnin’ to you, so you know what Meronym settled, an’ times are I regret her choosin’, yay, an’ times are I don’t. The chanty o’ my new tribe’s rowers waked me halfway ’cross the Straits. Meronym was changin’ my bleeded bindin’, she’d used some Smart med’sun to numb its pain a hole lot.
I watched clouds awobbly from the floor o’ that kayak. Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an’ tho’ a cloud’s shape nor hue nor size don’t stay the same, it’s still a cloud an’ so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud’s blowed from or who the soul’ll be ’morrow? Only Sonmi the east an’ the west an’ the compass an’ the atlas, yay, only the atlas o’ clouds.
Duophysite saw my eyes was open an’ pointed me Big Isle, purple in the sou’eastly blue, an’ Mauna Kea hidin’ its head like a shy bride.
Yay, my Hole World an’ hole life was shrinked ’nuff to fit in the O o’ my finger ’n’ thumb.
Zachry my old pa was a wyrd buggah, I won’t naysay it now he’s died. Oh, most o’ Pa’s yarnin’s was jus’ musey duck fartin’ an’ in his loonsome old age he even b’liefed Meronym the Prescient was his presh b’loved Sonmi, yay, he ’sisted it, he said he knowed it all by birthmarks an’ comets ’n’ all.
Do I b’lief his yarn ’bout the Kona an’ his fleein’ from Big I? Most yarnin’s got a bit o’ true, some yarnin’s got some true, an’ a few yarnin’s got a lot o’ true. The stuff ’bout Meronym the Prescient was mostly true, I reck’n. See, after Pa died my sis ’n’ me sivvied his gear, an’ I finded his silv’ry egg what he named orison in his yarns. Like Pa yarned, if you warm the egg in your hands, a beautsome ghost-girl appears in the air an’ speaks in an Old-Un tongue what no un alive und’stands nor never will, nay. It ain’t Smart you can use ’cos it don’t kill Kona pirates nor fill empty guts, but some dusks my kin ’n’ bros’ll wake up the ghost-girl jus’ to watch her hov’rin ’n’ shimm’rin’. She’s beautsome, and she ’mazes the littl’ uns an’ her murmin’s babbybie our babbits.
Sit down a beat or two.
Hold out your hands.
Look.
An Orison of Sonmi~451
Then who was Hae-Joo Im, if he was not xactly who he said he was?
I surprised myself by answering that question: Union.
Hae-Joo said, “That honor is mine to bear, yes.”
Xi-Li, the student, was xtremely agitated.
Hae-Joo told me I could trust him or be dead in a matter of minutes.
I nodded assent: I would trust him.
But he had already lied to you about his ID—why believe him this time? How did you know for sure he wasn’t abducting you?
I did not know: I was not sure. My decision was based on character. I could only hope time would prove it well founded. We abandoned the ancient Cavendish to his fate and fled to our own: down corridors, thru fire doors, avoiding lites and people where possible. Hae-Joo carried me down flites of stairs: we could not wait for me to navigate them unaided.
In a subbasement Mr. Chang waited in a plain ford. There was no time for greetings. The vehicle screamed into life and accelerated thru tunnels and empty ford parks. Mr. Chang glanced at his sony, reporting that the slipway still appeared to be accessible. Hae-Joo ordered him to proceed there, then got a flickknife from his pouch and sliced off the tip of his left index, gouged, and xtracted a tiny metallic egg. He threw it out of the window and ordered me to discard my Soulring similarly. Xi-Li also xtracted his Soul.
Unionmen really cut out their own eternal Souls? I always thought it was an urban myth . . .
How else can a resistance movement elude Unanimity? They would risk detection whenever they passed a traffic lite otherwise. The ford rounded a ramp when a blizzard of phosphate fire shot in the windows; glass filled the air, metal panels groaned; the ford scraped along walls, jarring to an abrupt stop.
From my crouch I heard coltfire.