Memory Seed (36 page)

CHAPTER 30

Green city.

To the north, nothing remained except piles of rubble indistinguishable from natural outcrops of rock, covered with moss and grass, hidden by bush and tree, dark green, emerald, olive, occasionally yellow or white in the summer rain. Northern plains were criss-crossed with animal tracks. Through these uplands a river passed, flowing towards cliffs, becoming a waterfall, then flowing on until it met the glowing sea.

Further south, ruins stood like teeth in a skeleton, green with algae and red with rust. West of the river, a verdigris-covered tower stood unchanged by the plants. East of the river stood a slimmer tower. In the far south there rose a single tongue of black plastic, dotted here and there with birds’ nests. In these flowered, colourful places, butterflies fluttered, great quantities of them produced by the heat and the profusion of nectar. There were tiny meadows filled to bursting with cowslips, ferns, hogweed, and also with nettles and docks boasting leaves as large as a water lily’s.

Southern parts remained flooded, slime and algae slapped across brick and stone, covering floods with scum. Here and there tiny leaves showed where other plants had found a roothold. Insects swarmed across these turbid pools and lakes, mosquitoes and daddy-longlegs, flies and boaters. Beetles swam. Larvae choked the multitude of growing spaces. In Eastcity there was a plague of fleas. Food was plentiful.

Eventually, when the meat provided by the year’s glut of corpses became too bad to eat, the hawks and vultures departed for further fields. Time passed by. Leaves took on bright colours, red and yellow, orange and brown, while animal life, particularly in the south, burst into new living spaces, caves once houses, vaults once cellars, eyries and ledges.

Gases bubbled from fermenting vegetation while from rotting things anaerobic bacteria produced more.

A great production of seeds ensued. From all types of plant seeds of every description grew; hard brown cases on some, the size of rats, small black motes on others. Whole pastures were transformed into white down, rising like smoke at the touch of a breeze. These pastures were undisturbed by human footsteps. In other places, especially near the Gardens, some plants produced purple fans, small glittering daggers, arrays of blunt pins.

As the year progressed, the fruit dropped or rotted or was eaten and burrowed into by insects; great green wasps with lethal stings, also spiders and the occasional bee. Squirrels harvested, and, on the ground, deer and rabbits, dogs and foxes enjoyed the spree.

To the south, water-plants produced their fruits, to be consumed by fish and insects, voles and weasels. The stinking pools merged into stinking lakes, so thick in places that even a wind could not disturb their glutinous surfaces. In other areas these pools were alive with insects and grubs.

The temperature began to fall. Rain abated into showers. Floods settled and the remains of buildings began to show through, already eroded by weather.

Soon green was muted, especially in the south. In the north, grass plains and bogs expanded, the bushes and trees growing among them bare and brown, and whipped by the wind. Hibernating animals began preparing their hides. Birds flocked in high places, many using the extended horns of the verdigrised tower, others clustering around fallen pylons and the mounts of solar mirrors now crumbling into rust. In dense flocks they waited, until internal calls sent them flying across the ocean.

Snow fell. Frosts froze over the floods, encasing dead leaves and living tendrils in ice. Cracks and snaps from rock and brick resounded through the city, and buildings were flattened. Snow settled on the ruins and cracked branches.

In the north, deer foraged; also rabbits and badgers, and even an occasional bear. Birds of prey wheeled overhead, many with new white plumage.

Southward there was little movement. The ice ponds and lakes were quiet. Elsewhere, robins and sparrows fluttered, and there were rustlings under the snow and debris from scavenging voles and hares, stoats and mink. To the east cat families foraged far and wide, hunting with their envenomed claws, scrabbling through the snow, and padding, backs arched, along the remains of sandstone walls and across precarious roofs.

More snow fell. Ice stalactites clothed the city, often encasing within their lengths rotten plant material. Huge drifts built up in those few alleys and streets left as such. More buildings collapsed as more snow flurries danced through the air.

And then, as spring approached, there were hints of new life.

~

Arrahaquen awoke.

She found herself lying on a couch. She was warm. Her toes and her fingers ached. Her face ached. Her eyes ached.

She sat up. Around her, in a sumptuous room, were her friends.

Tashyndy and Qmoet sat together, the Kray Queen engaged in some ritual of the Goddess with green circles drawn around her.

Qmoet gazed at Ky’s kit, a part of which lay in her hands.

Zinina lay on another couch, also wrapped but in her own sheets.

Two jacqana – one missing a leg, the other its basket – lay immobile nearby.

‘Where are we?’ she said.

Qmoet ran over. ‘At last you’re awake. We’re still in this place. You’ve been out almost an hour.’

Arrahaquen looked over to Ky’s kit.

‘She was dead,’ said Qmoet, nodding.

‘I think I shot her–’

‘Don’t blame yourself,’ Qmoet said. ‘Ky was probably killed by a laser shot.’

‘Who were they?’

‘Revellers.’

Arrahaquen lay back. ‘They must have been looking for shelter in the only place left standing. But they would never have entered.’

‘Will we be here for ever now?’

Arrahaquen did not answer. ‘Is Zinina still alive?’ she asked Qmoet.

‘Her wounds haven’t reopened.’

Tashyndy said, ‘I think she might be recovering. Her breathing is faster, her pulse quicker.’

Arrahaquen felt numb to everything. Her ability to pull precognition lines and arrays from the top of her mind was defeated here by exhaustion and a sense of cloying uncertainty, like a fog rolling in from some uncharted, inner sea. Inside the Clocktower an hour had passed; inside her mind, weeks seemed to have dragged by... dark weeks.

Suddenly a wave of emotion caught her, like submersion in hot water. She had never felt her self-possession smothered so vigorously. A fit of sobbing took hold. Vision blurred, she wept, her body gasping, though she could feel Tashyndy holding her steady. Heat suffused her.

Images of the foyer entered her mind, though they were devoid of real people and populated mostly by shadows, as though she had forgotten that others depended upon her. All that existed for her was the fountain of grief, of awe, swirling around the foyer in a vortex, herself at the centre. She felt Tashyndy’s strong arms hugging her and heard her voice calling, ‘Arrahaquen, what is it?’

It was like a lifeline. Tashyndy’s face appeared.

‘Is she still with us?’ Qmoet asked.

Hot, salty water stung her cracked lips, moistened her mouth. Her constricted throat and heaving chest tried to produce more words. Once again she was submerged into grief.

‘DeKray’s dead,’ she said at last.

‘Yes, he is.’ Tashyndy sat at her side, and hugged her once more. ‘Somebody shot him.’

‘He’s lying outside, dead.’ Arrahaquen could not bear to see in her mind’s eye the awful image.

How could she explain to them what he had done? His sacrifice was to trigger the building of the Cowhorn Tower. The copper pear he had given to the surgeon Myshelau had contained the building’s genetic code. DeKray may have been fertile, but the human seed which had be stored in the Cowhorn Tower would ensure the survival of humanity. What use would Kray have for a fertile man? He hadn’t been able to see the Clocktower because he was no longer part of Kray’s future.

Arrahaquen, with a final flood of emotion, understood that she was the vehicle of salvation, while deKray was its source. She knew that those secrets that had died with him were lost forever.

‘This tower is our escape,’ she said. ‘Tashyndy, how did the Cowhorn Tower look when you left your temple?’

‘The Cowhorn Tower was as strong as ever,’ Tashyndy replied.

Arrahaquen stared up at her. ‘Was it?’

‘Why, yes.’

Arrahaquen felt sudden excitement. She tried to get up. Her body would not remain still. ‘It’s out there now, awaiting us!’

‘Calm yourself,’ Tashyndy said. Qmoet tried to hold her down.

‘No! We’ve got to get down to the foyer again, right now. We’ve got to leave.’

‘Leave?’ they cried. ‘Back into the storm?’

‘The storm is over.’

She stood, and, though it pained her, hobbled to the steps.

‘Quickly,’ she said. They glanced at each other, at a loss. ‘
Quickly!
’

Tashyndy and Qmoet looked doubtfully at one another. Moments passed. Arrahaquen stood firm. They stood as two groups in opposition.

‘I don’t like it,’ said Tashyndy. ‘We can’t go into the storm again. We’ll die.’

‘Trust me,’ Arrahaquen said.

Again the pair eyed one another. Tashyndy said to Qmoet, ‘What do you think?’

‘I am past thinking,’ Qmoet sighed, tears falling down her cheeks.

Tashyndy pondered. Arrahaquen knew that here lay the final decision. ‘I am the last Kray Queen,’ Tashyndy said. ‘I represent the women of Kray–’

‘But not the people!’ Arrahaquen said. ‘DeKray was a man.’

‘But you said he was not part of us.’

‘He is part of us in that what he did helped us. He unknowingly sacrificed himself for our future. You must follow me, for what he did means we can live.’

Qmoet walked over to where Arrahaquen stood. Tashyndy stood firm.

‘Come on,’ Arrahaquen said.

Silence. The tower walls broadcast nothing of the weather outside. Still Tashyndy stood, her head bowed, her eyes closed.

‘I can’t do it,’ she said. ‘You said this tower was our place of salvation. How can we leave it?’

A voice from behind them.

Arrahaquen stared. ‘Zinina!’

Zinina was barely conscious. ‘Go with Arrahaquen,’ she repeated, ‘go with her, go with her.’ Her pale hands fluttered around the sodden blankets.

Again Tashyndy closed her eyes. ‘I’ll go,’ she sighed.

Without delay Arrahaquen turned, allowing Qmoet to help her downstairs, while Tashyndy carried Zinina as best she could. The jacqana staggered behind. They ignored the machines of the second floor and made straight for the main door.

Arrahaquen sobbed without hope... without reason. Her body felt as weak as it had ever done. Hands – she could not tell whose – held her upright.

‘Now!’ she cried.

Qmoet flung open the door.

Bright sunlight made her wince.

Pulling their few remaining satchels, they all stumbled out of the Clocktower.

Arrahaquen, unable to see, fell to the ground. She smelled grass. It was warm.

‘It’s going!’ Qmoet gasped.

Arrahaquen turned and, fingers shielding her eyes, looked up at the Clocktower. She could see sky through it. Blue sky.

It faded...

Then vanished.

Arrahaquen got to her feet. ‘It’s gone forever,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t exist in this time.’

‘This time?’ Tashyndy queried.

‘The Clocktower has propelled us over the end of Kray. This is the future. This was what I couldn’t remember all that time. I think the noophytes remembered some of it too, but they didn’t want to be part of it.’ Arrahaquen surveyed the land all around. Kray, and yet not Kray…

They stood near a shore. The blue sea was dazzling, with brilliant flecks of light where the sun reflected off it. Behind them, hills rose to gentle peaks. The sky was pastel blue, with white clouds. Judging by the sun it was early afternoon.

‘Look.’ Arrahaquen pointed to the sky. ‘The Spaceflower’s gone.’

‘Look over there,’ Tashyndy countered, pointing north.

Arrahaquen looked.

‘Is that the Cowhorn Tower?’ said Qmoet.

It seemed so. Far away, across a bubbling river, Arrahaquen saw a dark building. It stood in roughly the right place.

‘It is,’ she said. ‘I told you! It’s there for us. It’s why deKray couldn’t come with us.’

They walked across fields to the Cowhorn Tower. Used to the terrifying fecundity of Kray they were at a loss in this pale, tame land. The grass seemed paltry, the bushes small and the trees, without their usual threat, seemed tiny and stunted. Arrahaquen looked around her and wondered how anything could grow so feebly.

As the sun set, stars began to appear.

They were thirsty and hungry. With only eleven bottles of water unopened, they knew they would soon have to drink river water. For some time the taboos created by life in Kray stopped them, but Arrahaquen, taking the lead, let them watch as she cupped her hands in the clear, cold water, and drank. Then she took off her clothes and bathed. The others followed suit.

Food was more difficult. They had saved a few boxes. Arrahaquen knew that soon a life almost as difficult as that of Kray would begin, for they would have to forage, just as the first women of the human race had done.

~

Zinina stood at the cliffs. It was midnight.

Her life had been dislocated. Already, though only half a day had passed, she had wept a week’s tears for deKray. A part of her lay unburied, rotting, who knew how many years in the distant past.

And the world around her was strange.

When Arrahaquen came to stand by her, she said, ‘Almost everything I knew has gone.’

Arrahaquen nodded. ‘Our friends. Our city.’

‘We’re not the only ones starting again,’ Zinina said. ‘Your Rien Zir’s been reborn, don’t you see? The old Rien Zir’s gone – the violent, poisonous one. Now we’ve got a gentle daughter.’

Arrahaquen said nothing.

Zinina gazed out over the sea. ‘We can stop running, at last.’