Joan Slonczewski - The Children Star (Elysium Cycle)

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ONE

The sun crawled steadily up behind the dying city. Its rays stretched across towers and avenues to the hillside, through the window of a shack, to the eyelids of six-year-old 'jum. The sunbeams teased 'jum to wake up and look out upon Reyo City, and count the many lightcraft rising to meet the ships in orbit around L'li. But when she woke, her belly gnawed inside. Above Reyo, one glowing lightcraft rose, another came down ... not the thousands she used to count. So she counted the sunbeams instead. So many sunbeams peeked out through the skyline that even 'jum could never count them all.

From behind she heard a scratching sound. In the corner scrabbled a rat, its nose twitching, 'jum watched the rat. Blood pounded in her ears, and her belly gnawed harder.

She felt in her pocket and grasped a stone, a good heavy one, while her eye still fixed on the rat. With all her strength she flung the stone.

Red lights flashed across her eyes, and her ears rang. But the rat lay there, twitching and squeaking, so she dragged herself over to it. After she broke its neck it lay still.

From outside came the cry of a crow, the whine of a beggar, the grating of a wheelbarrow up the steep path. Once, the shacks that crowded the hillside would have all been stirring by now, with sweepers, garbage pickers, a seller of tin scrap in the doorway. Now all were gone.

The wheelbarrow grated again and came to rest just outside. A hoarse voice called, "Any dead?"

The call had become a part of the morning routine, since the "creeping" had spread. The creeping began as a numbness in the fingers and toes that crept upward over several months. It spread amongst people living together; how, 'jum did not know.

"Any dead?" The call came closer now, and the barrow came to a halt just outside. Usually, 'jum's mother would call to her from her bed, for 'jum to go out and answer. Of course, if no one answered, the man would just come in. Such a man with such a barrow had come in before, first for her sister, then her brother, then at last her father. Then the factory where 'jum worked had found out and sent her home. No more days of counting strange bits of metal to piece together, one thousand twenty-one, one thousand twenty-two; only the lightcraft to be counted, and the windows in the proud towers that reared opposite the hillside.

With an effort 'jum pulled herself up and pulled the paper back from the doorway. The man's grayish brown arms poked like sticks through his cloak. His cart already held two twisted bodies. Now he stared back at 'jum.

'jum closed her lips tight and shook her head.

Expressionless, the man picked up the two handles of the barrow. The wheels creaked: one-and ... two-and... 'jum held on to their rhythmic sound. One always comes before two, and the digits of any number divisible by three add up to be divisible by three. As her family had subtracted, one by one, 'jum had added and multiplied, creating families of factors in her head. Six hundred ninety-three was a family of four: a seven, eleven, and twin threes...

'jum bit into the rat, tearing out its flesh as best she could. Then she thought of her mother, who could no longer rise from her sleeping mat and needed 'jum to feed her. 'jum felt her way across the room, lighted only by the window, to the mat where her mother slept, covered by a sack 'jum had salvaged from the factory still bearing the sign of Hyalite Nanotech. Her mother's hand lay across it in the same position as the night before. Yet something had changed; the color of her hand was different, grayer, 'jum reached over and touched her mother's hand.

The hand was a frozen claw, 'jum shivered all over, as if the cold from the hand seeped through her body.

The next thing she knew, she was standing outside, leaning against the shack. Her breath heaved, and her heart thumped as if it would burst from her chest. Behind her, the shack had filled with a chill emptiness that reached for her next.

She tried to run, but the effort of rushing outside had exhausted her. She stared out over the roofs of the shacks that clung to the hillside, to the office towers of Reyo. From the top of one tower a lightcraft grew a golden cone and rose to the sky. Above the towers shone a bright star. Her mother had called it the Children Star, a faraway paradise that children were born to when they died.

A cloud dimmed the sun, and now 'jum's eyes could make out the windows in the towers. Broken panes hinted that even the most well-off had not escaped the creeping, 'jum calmed herself the one way she knew how, by counting the windows up and across; five times nine made forty-five, three times ten made thirty, and so on. In the old days at the factory she could have spent all day thus, counting the metal parts.

As 'jum counted, a man in a pale hooded robe climbed up the hill, along the rutted path that the carts barely managed. The man strode purposefully. For a moment he paused, as if looking for someone. Then he resumed his pace and came over deliberately to face 'jum. His figure towered over her, blocking the sun and the city. One so erect and strong could scarcely be mortal; he must be a god. Perhaps the very god of Death.

"Is that your home, little one?" Death's voice was low, and his accent had a foreign edge, 'jum could only stare wonderingly. The hooded apparition half turned, as if uncertain. Then he said, "Is your mother home?"

So that was it. Death himself had come for her mother.

But this time, 'jum decided, he would fail. She drew herself up straight, planting her feet before the entrance to the shack. Her left hand dug deep into her pocket for the largest stone she had. As she clasped it, her eye judged her aim for the critical part of his anatomy.

Death awaited her reply. Hearing none, he took something from his cloak and held it out to her. It was a chunk of bread.

The smell of the bread overpowered her, so that she nearly fainted. She took the bread and tried to stuff it whole into her mouth, then she choked, as her throat was so dry. Expecting this, he produced a flask of water, miraculously clear and fresh. For the next few minutes she applied herself to consuming the bread and water, forgetting anything else existed. She barely noticed as he passed her to enter the shack, then came out.

"Child," he said, putting his hood back so that wisps of hair blew across his face. "What is your name?"

'jum did not answer. Her name meant "pig urine," which her mother had intended to discourage evil spirits after losing two previous infants. But now she scanned the man's face. He was younger than she had thought, his cheeks smooth and tanned, with a neatly cropped beard. His blue eyes fairly glowed.

Something glinted on his chest, something hung on a chain. It was a transparent stone, as blue as his eyes. A sunbeam struck it, revealing a hidden star within, a star composed of three intercepting shafts. The star could define six triangles, with six sides shared and six outside, and seven connecting points.

"You may call me Brother Rod." His voice interrupted her study of the stone. "Come with me," said Brother Rod. "You'll always have enough to eat, where we're going. It's a different world, far from here, at a far star."

At that, 'jum's lips parted and her eyes widened. "The Children Star."

He smiled, like her older brother used to. " 'The Children Star,' " he repeated. "That would be a good name for it."

By this time two beggars had found Brother Rod, and they grasped his cloak, whining for bread. He took out more bread and distributed it, while leading 'jum up the path to the top of the hill. When the bread was gone he spread his hands, but the beggars keened after him. So he gave them some coins, and his watch. Then he drew himself up and sketched a strange sign in the air. "The Spirit be with you, Citizens." His voice was firm, and the muscles rippled in his forearm. The beggars moved off.