Birdbrain (21 page)

I can see flames and hear a hoarse shrieking, voices ringing with mortal fear and panic — and with good reason, because everything in sight is ablaze. My heart’s pounding, almost bursting, because this is exactly what I wanted.

For a moment it feels as though I’m dreaming, just about to wake up, but I shake the thought from my mind because this is good.

And then I’m in the air; with a few beats of my wings I rise up higher and look down at the two of them staggering around, their heads bowed, caps covering their mouths as they stumble forwards, tripping over the scrub, their legs taut as they run, crouched low so that the blades whirring above don’t take off their scalps.

The metallic bee shoots upwards, swaying, the flames almost singeing its iron legs.

There’s fire all around. Hot, cleansingfire. Black, fertile soot.

A moment ago it was still in these claws, the colour of sunset, small and smooth — and, now, behold.

I swoop lazily, buoyed in a jet of hot air, and look down at the mark I’ve left on the world.

There
w
as no sign on the face of nature of this amazing tale that was not so much told as suggested to me in desolate exclamations, completed by shrugs, in interrupted phrases, in hints ending in deep sighs.

—Joseph Conrad,
Heart of Darkness