Linda Nagata - The Bohr Maker

Just past dawn a dead man came floating down the river. The current carried him under the old river-straddling warehouse, where he fetched up against one of the fluff booms Arif had strung between the rotting pilings. Phousita found him when she came to gather the nights harvest of fluff. He floated facedown. His head had wedged under the fluff boom; his long black hair swayed like a silk veil in the current.

Phousita glanced nervously overhead. The trapdoor that opened onto the main floor of the abandoned warehouse hung open. She debated with herself a moment. It would be so easy to slip into the water, ease the dead mans body off the boom and guide him back into the current before Arif discovered he was here. She would never have to worry about who he might have been or what bitter spirits still haunted his flesh. Let someone else farther down the river have him!

But her conscience wouldnt let her do it. Even in the dusky light under the river warehouse she could tell hed been a wealthy man. Such fine clothes! And he might have money on him, jewels. The clan was hungry. She glanced again at the trapdoor. Sumiati, she called softly.

The termite-eaten floorboards creaked, then Sumiati peered through the door. She had an empty bucket in her hands, ready to pass it to Phousita. So fast today! Did you fill the first bucket already? Its about time our catch improved! Her dark eyes widened when she saw the body. She sucked in a little breath of surprise. Phousita, hes still got his clothes! Hold him! Dont let the current take tuan away. Ill come down. Look how beautiful his robe is. Oh, do you think were the first to find him? She put the bucket down, then turned to climb through the trapdoor, moving awkwardly as she bent over her pregnant belly. She hung for a moment from the insulated wire rope, looking like some rare, ripe fruit. Then she dropped gracefully to the narrow metal plank that Arif had lashed between the pilings. It shivered under the impact.

Phousita reached out a hand to steady her. Sumiati was a small woman, but even beside her, Phousita was tiny. She stood no taller than a petite child of seven or eight, though she was nearly twenty-five years old. Despite her size, her body was that of a woman: slender and beautifully proportioned, endowed with ample breasts and rounded hips, but on a scale that seemed unnaturally small. With her pretty round face, her dark eyes, and her thick black hair carefully coiled at the nape of her neck, she might have been a diminutive spirit out of some forgotten mythology.

Her unusual appearance had once attracted many clients after hours in the business district. But shed promised Arif she wouldnt venture down there anymore. She was hungrier these days. The clothes from this dead man would buy a large quantity of rice.

And yet she hesitated. Easy wealth was so often cursed with misfortune. I dont like finding the tuan here, she told Sumiati, instinctively using the traditional honorific. Theres no telling what evil influences tuan carries with him. Lets work quickly, then Ill shove him back into the river.

Sumiati looked suddenly concerned. Maybe we should call Arif.

No! Sumiati jerked at the sharp tone of Phousitas voice. Phousita hunched her shoulders; she looked across at the dead man. No, she said more gently. No need to wake Arif. We can do it. Pulling the close-fitting skirt of her sarong up above her knees, she eased herself into the water until her tiny feet touched the clean gravel that cushioned the rivers concrete bed. The current swirled in cool streams around her waist, gradually soaking her faded blue breastcloth. She reached back to help Sumiati down, then grabbed the empty fluff bucket and started wading toward the dead man, one hand on the fluff boom for balance.

Arif had constructed the boom shortly after hed moved the clan into the abandoned warehouse. Hed gathered rare old plastic bottles, the kind that didnt disintegrate in only a few weeks. Hed cut them in half and then lashed them to a plank stripped from the warehouse. They floated half-submerged in the water and when the fluff came floating down the river they trapped it, like huge hands grasping at the feast. The system had worked well for many months. It would still work, if only there were more fluff in the river or fewer hungry people. Her gaze scanned the thin line of brown foam bobbing against the boom. A dismal catch. Not enough there to feed three people and there were thirty-nine empty bellies in the clan. Forty, counting Sumiatis soon-to-be-born. Phousita tried not to think about it.

Fierce rays of yellow light lanced under the river house as the sun leapt up over the city. Phousita touched the dead mans head. Bright white flecks of bone and torn pink flesh could be seen through his black hair. The back of his skull had been caved in by a blow. The current still washed dilute puffs of blood from the wound. He must have been only minutes in the water. She lifted his head carefully by the long hair. His face was pale, nondescript European. His eyes were closed. A single kanji glowed in soft, luminescent red on his cheek. She couldnt read it. Look, tuan was robbed, she said, pointing at the torn lobes of his ears where earrings must have been. Sumiati peered over her shoulder.

Out of principle Phousita touched his neck, checked for a pulse. It was a ceremony the Chinese doctor insisted upon, even when the patient was obviously dead. Perhaps it helped ease the frightened spirit still trapped within the body. Sumiati looked on, a worried pout on her lips until Phousita shook her head. Sumiati smiled.

Even if tuan was robbed, he still has his clothes, she said. Maybe the thieves overlooked something. She quickly checked his pockets, but found nothing. Phousita worked at the fastenings on his robe. In minutes they had the body stripped. Phousita stepped back in relief.

Sumiatis eyes glowed as she held the fluff bucket stuffed full of fine clothing. Push him off the boom, she urged. Lets hurry. We have to take these to temple market. Its a long walk, but well get the best price there. We can take some water to sell too. And then we can buy rice. Enough for everyone to eat until their stomachs complain! And clothes. Henri and Maman need new clothes. And medicines, of course. Youll know the ones to buy. And the Chinese doctor is always glad to see you.

Phousita smiled at Sumiatis nervous chatter. The dead man had indeed brought them good fortune. And now she could send him on his way. She reached for the dead mans arm. Twisted it gently, to ease him off the boom. Hurry now. In a moment he would be gone.

Phousita!

Her hands jerked back in guilty surprise. She looked up as Arif dropped through the trapdoor. He landed on the metal plank. His slim, hard bodyclothed only in worn snortswas poised in a fighters stance. Arif was always fighting, she thought bitterly. And hed do anything, anything at all to survive.

He stared at her, cruel violet eyes so out of place amongst the swollen, exaggerated features of his laughing, yellow, bioluminescent jokers face. Sumiati, blind to his moods, started to bubble forth in her good-natured way with the tale of their find, but Arif cut her off with a gesture. Phousita, he growled softly. What are you doing?

Phousita glanced at the nude body of the dead man. Without his clothes he seemed a pale, ghostly thing. Take the basket up, Sumiati, she said softly. Arif will help me now.

Sumiati nodded, confused. Arif helped her out of the river and onto the plank, then stepped back, out of her way. She climbed the rope. Close the door behind you, he said. He still stared at Phousita. In the harsh shadows under the warehouse, his ogre-ugly face glowed brilliant yellow with its own generated light.