Calypso - S. G. Ricketts (reading an ebook TXT) 📗

a soft lavender scent on the air. The dirt suds slipped off her skin, light brown clouds in the water until it was swept out to sea. Kira scrubbed every inch of her body. It had been a while since her last bath, but she was starting to run out of soap. Baths weren’t necessary; soap was. Finally finished scrubbing her scalp, she dipped herself underwater. She could feel her muscles unwinding and her body relaxing. This was good.

After a while, she got out. Steam came off her skin as it hit the cave air and she shivered. “Ah...” She stretched again, relishing the feel of clean skin, and smiled. Snagging her dirty clothes, Kira left the hot springs behind and headed towards the center of the mountain. The sounds of the surf and the storm faded behind her as she worked her way ever deeper into the mountain. Kira let her fingertips trail against the wall, waiting for the dip that signaled the room behind it. Ah…there it was. She slipped around the slight corner and reached to the left. A light turned on and she was momentarily blinded. It threw blue-white light across a medium-sized cavern. The walls were covered with boxes and trinkets and pieces of her past life, columns of plastic that reached from floor to ceiling. Black lettering marked the contents inside, but she couldn’t make it out. After the darkness, the light was too much. She chuckled softly. “Maybe I am becoming part bat.” Gradually her eyes acclimated and she set the light to the manual setting. The battery bar flickered green, as it should. She’d recharged the solar battery a few months back out of habit more than anything else. They were supposed to last for up to a year, but these batteries were getting old. Eight years below ground hadn’t left them in the best condition.

Kira turned back to the room and grimaced. The silence was deafening. It was one of the reasons Kira avoided the place. After the sounds of the surf and the birds and life, the cavern was a shock. She couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that crept over her skin. She hugged herself, trying to shake it. The place reminded her of death. It was the one place in the entire mountain that Kira hated. It was a reminder of everything that she’d lost. Suppressing a shiver, she pressed a little bump just behind her right ear. Music flooded her mind. Classic rock from the ‘20s beat out a steady beat, overwhelming the silence around her. Kira let out a sigh of relief.

The box she wanted was made of the clear plastic all the colonists had used for storage. It sat half-open, the first in a row of ten. Khaki pants filled the bin, women’s and men’s, and Kira started to dig around. It had bothered her in the beginning, wearing dead people’s clothes. Survival quickly overrode that. As refreshing as it was to walk around naked, she hadn’t been alone in the beginning. Now, it was just a habit. It was her safety net, reminding her that she was human. “Here we go,” she muttered, tugging out a faded pair. As she pulled them on, she felt a pang of annoyance. Why couldn’t women’s pants do the same thing as men’s? Length and width. Was that so much to ask? It wasn’t like she had hips to measure for. The hem hit her a few inches above her ankle. Cursing, she slid them off and flipped open her knife. “Damn short people…make me do all the work…Them and their short legs…” She held up the mangled pants and nodded, satisfied with their new cropped appearance. Shirts were much easier. She grabbed one off the top of the “Shirts” box and slipped it over her head. The faded army logo hugged her lean frame but she didn’t bother looking for another shirt. The tighter the better: there was less chance of it catching on something. Stretching, she smiled. There was nothing quite like the feel of clean clothes.

Her eye caught something in the far corner, carefully placed on a flattened stalagmite. The stalactite above it had been sawed away to put a little motion light in the ceiling. Kira frowned, trying to remember why they’d put a light in. Curious, she walked over. Kira flicked it off when it awoke. If the other went out, this one’s battery would be useful. A standard-issue box sat on the stalagmite, gray plastic walls scratched and worn. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what was inside of it. She had only come ever down here for clothes and supplies. This part of the cavern was sectioned off from the rest, free from the clutter of boxes. A lock hung from the door of the box. She let it rest in her palm, staring from the lock to the box and back. Had there ever been something they’d needed to lock up? Kira gasped as she realized what it was and knelt before the crate. Her fingers rested on its side, shaking slightly. Inside the box was the only video player they had been able to save. She hadn’t seen another face in so long… Carefully, she undid the combination, her ears pricking at each click. The door let out a quiet sigh as she opened it. The back wall of the box appeared through the semi-transparent blue screen, the logo of the shuttle catching the faint light. The Earth Trade Association’s emblem caught just above it, an eerie reminder of what had become of Earth.

It was the perfect safe, the plastic virtually indestructible and weatherproof. The vid-screen itself took up the entire box. It sat on a back stand like a picture frame, the computer embedded in the frame and the screen a thin mesh of LED wires. Her eyes tried to focus on the screen but kept shifting to the back of the box. She sighed. Each time she looked through a vid-screen it gave her goose bumps. It had an unnatural feel to it, both ethereal and profane. Kira rubbed her finger against her pant leg in a vain effort to get dirt off the tip, then gently touched the screen. It jumped to life, little white boxes popping up in the corner with names like “Harvest 2087” and “Welcome Isaiah.” She clicked on one that said “New Year 2089” and waited. There was a soft whirring from the screen’s frame.

“Is it on?” The voice was young and male and a little slow. She sat back on her heels, tingles all over.

“Yeah, but you’ve got the cap on, you idiot.” Another male, this one slightly irritated. Light suddenly burst onto the screen, and a pimple-marked young man peered out at her. “There. Now you can actually see what you’re recording.”

“Oh…well, I could see what I was recording before. The camera couldn’t.” The recorder sounded a little sheepish. The visible man rolled his eyes and backed up. The disembodied voice continued. “Where is everyone? It’s almost midnight!”

The other shrugged. “I asked Joan to make some pies, and Sam said he was going to bring some of that fruit wine he finally finished, but I don’t know where they are.” He started to say something else, but she reached out and pressed the fast-forward button. Chit-chat had always bored her; now wasn’t any different. When she stopped, there was a crowd of people. There were men and women and children, all rosy-faced and smiling. These were her family. In the least, she shared the same 46 chromosomes with them. Kira watched, devouring the sight of humanity. They were watching a huge digital clock. She could remember it from her own village, a huge solar-powered beast that kept time exactly. “7…6…5…4…3…2…1!” they all chanted. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” There was kissing and drinking and cheering, and one little boy ewwed at his mother and father. Someone in the back shouted, “Three years and still alive!” Everyone laughed. There was a pit in her stomach as she watched them, happy and free. Three years... They had one year left, then. Kira swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. People… God, she was lonely.

She chose another video. A group of women were huddled together and an older woman pulled herself out of the crowd, wagging a finger. “Get out of here. I know what you’re planning, I do. Don’t think you can get around me like that. You boys can’t see her until she walks down that aisle. Now shoo!” That one was a little easier to watch, even if weddings bored her. The next video had a gurgling baby and a laughing older brother. The brother bounced the baby and threw her in the air, and the baby howled with laughter. She smiled and brushed her fingers across the smiling pair, their faces warping under the touch. The next was a play. Then there was one of women shucking corn.

She eventually lost track of the videos. She was swimming in humanity, reliving other people’s memories. She could feel her own memories slowly coming back. She had resented her life, not these people. In their own way, they’d been kind to her. The gryphons had taken this all away from her. They took the friends and the leaders and the teachers and destroyed it. They destroyed everything. The screen fogged over and Kira hastily blinked the tears away. These people were so real. Each one had a name and a life and a story that no one would ever know. That was how life was supposed to be, there in the little clear screen: happy and busy and going.

The videos played themselves out and moved on to the next until she found herself watching a young girl. Her auburn hair was long and loose, hanging down the middle of her back in copper waves. Her golden-brown eyes stared into the camera. Kira held her breath. The little girl’s eyes were serious and not at all congruent with her age. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen, still boyish and round-faced. Sullenly, she kept glaring at whoever was behind the camera. Kira caught herself tracing the lines of the face, her fingers denting the screen and warping the image. Hastily, she drew back her hand. That little girl was her. She was so innocent, so intent on talking about her fish. There was no fear in her eyes and there were no scars on her face. It was high and brisk, the voice of someone very confident and very annoyed. It hit her harder than any of the other videos. She had changed. This Kira, this child, had been bitter coming to this planet, but she hadn’t known hardship yet. She hadn’t seen death. She had felt it, but she hadn’t seen it. Something in her wanted that little girl back. Kira couldn’t stand it. She pressed the “off” button and slammed the door to the safe shut.


* * * * *


Darkness greeted her. She closed her eyes again, wishing for the relief of sleep. Kira lay in the dark for a while, listening to the silence. Every now and then, there was a distant drip. The images played through her mind again and again in the darkness, their lives haunting her. Of everyone, she was the only one to survive. It seemed like some cruel twist of fate. She swallowed, her throat still thick from her crying, and sat up. The light sensor above her flickered on, its light flickering off the frame of the vid-screen. Kira paused. It seemed wrong to shut them away again down here, but the pain was still too