Virginia Hamilton (10 page)

The Hellal IX sextet commenced singing in unison.

“Now comes the hellelu!” announced Celester.

The sextet sang:

“Praise be Starters,

Here and gone.

Be come again a-dome.

Praise be Starters,

High, far be gone.

Be come again, a-domity-

dome!”

Never had they seen Duster as he was now. There was little of the leader left. But still there was a fierce humanness in his expression that the other Hellals lacked.

“Praise be Starters,

Here and gone.

Be come again a-dome ...”

The boys sang a cappella. No voice stood out stronger or better than any other.

Justice was aware that Duster was in agony. Here was the leader of packens, the leader of song and leader in all things in Dustland, forced to sing at the same pitch in tune with others. For one with such a splendid voice, it was torture.

“They’re good, oh yes!” Celester toned. “The Hellals bring joy to all. Send them to fields. When they sing, the plantings sway and grow uncommonly.”

Monotonously the Hellals sang on.

“He doesn’t even know us,” Thomas said, gazing up at Duster.

“He can’t even look at us,” Levi said. “I don’t think he’s seeing much of anything.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Justice asked Celester.

“Wrong? With whom?” he toned.

“You know. Duster. What’s the matter with him?”

Celester looked appreciatively at the Hellals. “The lost one is finding his place. He is thinking, recalling many songs and seeking the depths of the singer’s art. Already he knows the praise song.”

“He’s not happy,” Justice said.

“The Hellal IX must forget the lost time,” Celester toned. “Then he will be happy, for it is over and done.”

“No, it’s not!” Justice cried. “Look at him, look at his face!” Duster’s face revealed an agonizing struggle going on inside him.

“Duster?” softly Justice called to him.

He seemed not to have heard.

“Duster?” she called, louder. When Celester made no protest, the others took it up. “Duster? Duster!”

“Hey, Duster!” Thomas called.

At last the boy looked down at them. He squinted, peering at them as if from a great distance.

“It’s me, Justice!” she called.

“And me, Thomas, and Levi and Dorian. We’re the unit—remember?”

“Duster, the packens!” Justice called. “Remember all the dust and the packens?”

“To turn the Hellal back again is an idea without substance,” toned Celester. “It is what you say is wrong.” Yet he did nothing to stop them from calling out.

Duster stood, up in the boat, causing it to rock and sway. He pointed at them. The other boys stayed on their knees and kept repeating their dull song. Duster tried to make them look at the terrace. But they were trained to sing, not to see.

He squeezed his eyes shut; his face contorted. His hands were fists and tears wet his cheeks.

“Duster! Duster!” In anguish, Justice called, “Duster!”

“Be letting … letting,” Duster toned, and broke off. He changed soundings to talking for the first time: “Let … me …
down.
Let me
down!
Let-me-down. Let-me-down-let-me-down!”

“Let him down!” Justice cried. “Celester, please let him down. You’re hurting him, and you mustn’t hurt him!”

Celester made no reply. After a pause, he gave a sign to the Hellals. One of them in the rear of the craft took hold of a ring attached to the hull. He brought the hovercraft down to the terrace.

They were able to get their hands on Duster. And they pulled him out headfirst into the safety of their arms.

They held him so close, Celester could see only his feet.

“Poor Duster!” Justice cried, holding him by the hand. This time he made no objection to being touched.

“Man, Duster, where you been?” Dorian said, clapping him on the shoulder and ruffling his hair. They all ruffled his hair, which was sleek and clean now. They laughed, delighted with him.

From within their clutches came his quavering tune, “Be tight you!” as he clung to them for dear life.

“I
T IS WHAT THEY DO,”
Celester toned in his easy, impartial voice. “As I do one thing, as others do other things, so do the Hellal IX’s sing.”

“But it’s so dumb!” Thomas said, exasperated. “In Dustland, Duster was the leader of a lot of kids. He had the responsibility for their lives. Now, he’s just—well, look at him!”

They rested by the stream that flowed down the terraces. The fluffy cloud hung above them, keeping them in comfortable shade. Duster lay on his back between Justice and Levi with his hands covering his eyes. Every now and then he would sit up and look vaguely around, searching for the other Hellals.

“You sure there’s nothing else he can do here besides sing all the time?” Thomas asked.

“It is enough for a beginning,” toned Celester. “In Sona the order is the musical sound. All of the domities have such experiments. The Hellals sing much more complex works than the simple praise song.”

“Maybe you’d better tell us straight,” Justice said. “What’s the place we named Dustland? Is it the future? Is
this
the future?”

“In one sense, both are the future,” Celester said. “I will tell you everything you want to know. But first let us have our feast. You must be hungry.” An aura of pleasure surrounded them. Sunlight shone in and out of the clouds. The dome was at midday, although it might have been Nolight in Dustland for all they knew.

Two gyldan glided onto the terrace. The smaller, duller one was Miacis of Dustland.

“Master! Justice! My god, lady!” she hollered when she sensed their presence. Miacis scurried over to be petted.

“Miacis, I’m glad to see you again!” Justice said. She wrapped her arms around Miacis’ neck. Duster sat up, petting her, smoothing his hands gently along her back fur.

“You, rusty Duster!” Miacis said, laughing affectionately. “You and me … we …” With her sweet voice full of sadness, she left the thought unfinished.

She and the other gyldan carried pouches about their necks. They lowered their heads simultaneously to Celester, who removed the pouches.

“Food for you,” Celester toned. “Sand wishes, yes? Like this.” Giggling, the four decided not to correct Celester’s reading of sandwich. He took chunks of something from the pouches that looked like coarse cakes.

“You call that a sand wish?” Thomas said, snickering.

“Is it not what you are used to?” toned Celester. “I read it from you. Sand wish, bread with meat and vegetant, some oils in it.”

“A sand wish is two pieces of bread with bologna you wish was ham, and lettuce
between
the slices,” Thomas said. He laughed. “You actually went out and had bread made with meat
through
it!”

Dorian giggled. Levi and Justice had to smile. “That was thoughtful of you, thanks a lot, Celester,” Justice said.

“Do eat,” Celester said. He placed the bread chunks and thin tubes of clear liquid on a sheet of silitrex he had taken from one of the pouches.

They took up the chunks, which were spongy and cool and tasted exactly like ham and cheese with mustard.

“That’s Dijon mustard. I don’t like Dijon mustard,” Levi said, chewing.

“But it’s Thomas’ favorite and Celester read
his
mind, not yours.” Justice giggled.

“Well, I’ll be! It
is
Dijon mustard!” Thomas said.

“Good, yes?” sang Celester. “Now try the effervescence. It is carbonic-acid gas and flavoring. I believe you call it soda.”

“Orange soda,” Thomas said, after sucking the liquid from one of the tubes.

“It’s pretty good,” Dorian said.

“But I can’t help thinking I’m going to see it go down,” Levi said.

“You still worrying about what part of us is here?” Justice asked. “Celester explained it all.”

“I know he did, but I still don’t see how it’s possible we have our bodies.”

“Man, the things you get yourself hung up on!” Thomas said. “I’d rather think about that little cloud.” He pointed above them. “It’s kept that sunlight off us since Duster came in the little flying machine.”

They watched the cloud. Sure enough, it stayed right above them. They looked inquiringly at Celester.

He spoke, “We direct matter and predict its outcome. We control it.”

Thomas stared thoughtfully at him. Chewing, he said, “So what’s the outcome of that fluffy cloud?”

“Shade,” Celester toned.

“And what’s the control on it?” asked Dorian.

“It stays where it is until I change it otherwise,” toned Celester.

“I thought the dome created weather,” Justice said.

“It does, but we leave nothing to chance,” Celester hummed. “Once it is begun, we take control of it. We move it, shape it. We cause it to disintegrate. We reform it.”

“Do you create life?” Justice asked for the second time.

“I am not positive,” Celester toned, and abruptly shut down.

They were silent, watching him. Duster’s and Justice’s hands were nervously raking through Miacis’ fur. Fur caressed their palms. Justice felt Miacis transmit a relaxation aura. The gyldan’s purpose must be to bring comfort to humans, she thought.

She sighed. What’s my purpose? Is it only to bring the Dustlanders here? Is that it? I feel that it’s not, but what’s to come?

The light changed. Colors of sundown rapidly spread throughout terraces and clouds. Celester came alive again. She had not seen him touch his chest symbols. She told him that their meal had been good, sufficient, and he said he was pleased to hear it.

Sundown shone in their eyes. It looked the same as evening sun in summer at home. “Red sun at night, a sailor’s delight,” Justice said distantly.

“Just so,” toned Celester.

“Evening-time,” said the Speaker, from all around them, “at your request.”

“Evening-time,” toned Celester in a serious, although calm tune. “You will not see the sun go down in our darkly of evening. We simulate the sun, for it is outside of domity throughout this Origin.”

Duster got to his feet. Celester’s soundings confused him. He knew nothing of sun, which had been beyond the dust and invisible to him. He knew nothing of sundown or sailors. One moment his mind dreamed dust and knew the hunt for food. The next moment he dreamed cool and clean Sona.

“Who …? Who …? he stammered.

“You are Hellal IX,” sang Celester in his pure baritone. “You are one of six Hellal IX’s. Sextuplet. We have many—six of a kind, two of a kind, four of a kind, up to twenty of a kind.”

“Be I not leader?” toned Duster, his once distinctive tenor no longer dramatic.

“You are Hellal IX,” sang Celester again. “One of six duplica. The other Duster, another place, they are lost forever.”

“He is Duster,” said Justice simply.

“Oh, rusty Duster,” spoke Miacis, who listened, waiting patiently. A moment ago she had sensed Star, as she did when Nolight was near. At Nolight, Star faded. She had sensed Star and fading when there had been talk of red sun at night. But she also knew that Star had not faded. She was as confused as Duster. “Rusty Duster,” she whispered for comfort.

The remaining five Hellal IX’s did not sing now, for Celester had motioned them to cease. Duster saw them and turned away. “That not be it,” he toned. “Where …? Where …?”

“Siv,” gently Justice said.

Duster sucked in his breath. “Where!” he said. “Where be the Siv? And my … my smooth! Glass?

“Glass!” he toned, shouting. “Where be Glass? Where be the smooth and leggens … and … everything? Gone! All gone!” Duster pressed his fist to his temples. Like some mad animal, he spun in circles.

Celester played the symbols on his chest. A light mist was seen to fall out of the cloud above. It fell only on Duster; it glistened on his hair. He stopped spinning around and became quiet and calm. Soon he came back to his place next to Justice and did not take his eyes from Celester.

You still think it’s all right to tranquilize them?
Thomas traced to Justice.

Before she could reply, Celester was speaking to them.

“The Currand XVII and Gler XII, whom Hellal IX calls Siv and Glass, have gone with their kinds. They are doing well, more so than this Hellal, who is interrupted in his progress by your being here with him. This is no criticism of you four. You may stay in Sona as long as you wish. It is the fact of the matter.”

We should get out of here,
traced Thomas.
Leave Duster and the others to get back in the groove of things. They’ll have enough to eat and they won’t ever have to swallow any more dust.

This can’t be the end of it,
Justice traced. She was thinking, This can’t be all I’m here for. Is Sona a good place? It appears to be. But so many duplicates!

I’m not ready to go yet,
finally she traced to Thomas.

You make me sick! You don’t have any right to keep us here!

Thomas, I’m sorry. Please, just a while longer.
Firmly she closed her mind to her brother.

Carefully she spoke to Celester. “A while ago you said you weren’t sure you could create life. How can you not be sure?”

“I meant that we have never needed to create from nothing,” he toned. “We begin with some genetic material, however little.”

“Then your kind are not gods,” she said.

“Not us,” he toned with a stirring of powerful rhythms, “but perhaps the Starters were.”

He began a singsong that had equal soundings of wonder and regret at so much that had come and gone.

“Let us speak of the evolutionary process that awakened Starters,” Celester toned. “We believe their antecedents existed from the beginning of humanity on the earth. We believe the seers had genetic gifts which lay dormant until the time such power would be most useful. Each generation had its descendant seers, until the final time of danger to humanity. That was the time of the ultimate catastrophe, when the end of life on earth was more than possible. It was probable.”

He toned in solemn plainsong, “It began with highest technology and majestic nature. Who could guess that such disparate elements would combine in devastation?

“Far-reaching advances in technology used up reservoirs of the world’s resources. Armies of unskilled and out-of-work came into existence. Abundant use of nuclear fusion and fission energies and of sun energy we call solarity were achieved goals. But energies were expensive, using enormous amounts of power and water. Producers sold the technology and the energies to whoever could afford them.