She stood a little straighter, resting her hand on her taiaha under her cloak, gaining strength from that touchstone of tradition. “Director Anderson, in all my travels, I have noticed that there is something missing from the Ministry.”
Her superior’s dark eyebrows pressed together. “You have had a sudden dose of insight. Do tell, Miss Murphy?”
“I believe there is a better way to handle the acquisition of dangerous objects.” Her fingers rested on the breast of her coat where the flute had so recently ridden. “Rather than barging in and snatching away objects, might a softer, gentler approach be not the best way, with a position made especially for it?”
He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the desk between them. Morning sun spilled over the pile of papers. “And what would you call this position?”
Aroha smiled. “I believe we could begin by creating a liaison agent. Someone who could be a bridge between the Queen’s Ministry and the tribes of Aoteroa.”
“And that,” he said with a tilt of his head, “I presume would be you?”
Aroha raised her chin just a fraction, feeling the pride of her ancestors whisper in the back of her head. “Yes, sir, that would be me.”
For a long moment she feared the Regional Director would brush off her suggestion. However, finally he let out a sigh. “We are a long way from Headquarters, Agent Murphy, but I will take your suggestion under serious consideration.” His gaze focused on her. “I can see that you have the particular…experience and qualifications for such a role. I will give the HQ Director my recommendation. I don’t think they comprehend our ways are different down here.”
She smiled at that. Perhaps there was hope, if they could understand each other just a little.
“Thank you sir,” she said. “I believe I can make a difference.”
He dismissed her, and as she turned to go, she thought of Ruru and the Ngati Toa airship, and wondered what the days ahead would bring.
The Construct Also Dreams of Flight
Rochita Loenen-Ruiz
“Martha is to wind up the worlds every day. Sergio must polish the big organ. Misa is to tend to the plants in the hothouse— and Lina, finish the last project.”
I listened and did as I was supposed to do.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, Aunt Bertha. It shall be as you wish.”
“Well,” Aunt Bertha said. “A woman must die when a woman must die.”
She pressed a hand to her bosom, coughed once, twice, and then she was gone.
The light here is unlike light anywhere else. The ancestral home is just a short distance from the sea and if you get tired of the sea, you can go further inland to where the land stretches out as far as the eye can see.
We don’t have to till the land ourselves. That’s not what she made us for. But the farmers bring in a seasonal tribute of rice and vegetables in lieu of rent and it’s our task to ensure they’re sent off to the estate manager who sells them at a profit for the family in Manila.
There’s no reason for them to take the crossing and come to where we are. No reason at all.
Dear Lina, the letter read. We'll be there on the fifteenth of the month.
One drawback of living here was that the mail arrived slower than elsewhere. Today was the fifteenth of the month.
It was my task to wind up the others daily and set them to work. The letter sent me into a flurry of activity. We couldn’t allow the family to sleep in rooms that smelled of dust and mold.
I looked out the window and watched for the dust cloud that would herald their arrival. Would they demand the selling off of the land now? Would they want me to vacate the ancestral home? And what about Aunt Bertha’s final project?
I pocketed my anxiety, folded the cloth over the painting I was working on and went to ensure that the work was done. Rooms needed to be aired, beds needed turning and sheets had to be changed.
There was no need for worry. Every nook and cranny of the old house was shiny and clean. There was not even the slightest hint of a cobweb.
Still, another passage of the cleaning cloth never hurt anyone.
Noise heralded their approach. They were travelling in a painted coach and even the layer of dust couldn’t dull the shine of the metal horses that pulled them. They quivered and stamped the ground with their shining hooves, steam rose up from their bodies and their mechanical eyes shivered open and shut.
“Ah, here she is,” Cousin Emma said.
I reached out my arms and caught her as she sprang from the carriage.
“Lina dear, won’t you come with us to the city? We'll take good care of you there, promise.”
I stared at her in surprise.
“Oh stop it,” Auntie Lily said. “Don’t overwhelm the poor thing. Don’t you see she’s quite devastated at the loss of Bertha.”
I blinked.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I can’t leave Carrascal.”
“Of course,” Cousin Emma said. “Of course, you'll stay here, Lina dear. It wasn’t our intention to kick you out. Besides, if you leave who would take care of the old house. If you wish to stay, you must stay.”
It’s not that I don’t want to move to the city, but this is the only home we've ever known. No matter how the family clicks and moans about Aunt Bertha’s eccentric ways, no matter that they moan about the odd placement of the rooms, the slanting walls and geometric windows, we helped make this house according to Aunt Bertha’s vision.
“Martha,” I said. “I hope you’ve wound up the worlds in the Universum.”
“The Universum?” Cousin Emma said.
“It’s one of Aunt Bertha’s projects,” I replied.
“I want to see,” Cousin Emma said. And a chorus of voices joined in with hers as the younger cousins clamored to see what they’d never cared to see when Aunt Bertha was still here.
“Martha,” I said. “You lead the way.”
I listened to the sound of their voices. Martha wouldn’t be able to answer their questions, but I could.
I rested my hand on the brass telescope that had come to us all the way from Europe. Would they even appreciate how Aunt Bertha had tried to capture worlds she could only see through its powerful lens?
I watched them peer at the bell jars. Their eyes alight with curiosity. If you looked closely, you could see gears grinding and turning. Tiny little spheres orbited shining poles of brass, brass disks twirled and turned on their axes; round and round they went until their mechanisms wound down and Martha had to wind them up again.
“What else is here?” They asked. “What else?”
At that moment, a crescendo sounded from the organ room. Giggling and laughing, they went in search of the sound. They would find Sergio of course, and the room with long pipes built into it. When Aunt Bertha was alive, she would bring that organ to life and make so much sound the entire house would quake.
They were so distracted by everything they saw, they never thought to explore the basement. It was a relief. After all, it was where we kept the final project.
Yours to finish, Aunt Bertha had said to me.
Two of the cousins stayed after the others left.
Every day, Fermi and Ana walked down to the sea together. I watched them as they ran about and played.
When they came home, they trailed sea water and sand all over the narra floor.
“You're so good to us, Lina,” Fermi said.
I made an attempt to capture the light around them. The blue and rose of their skirts, the pale cream of their panuelos, the midnight of their hair blending into each other—all in vain.