Falmar
“The victory on Falmar was relatively quick. Due to the relative lack of native life, biological agents were chosen to clear the planet’s surface. The enemy combatants were almost completely wiped out with just a few strategic applications of the agent.”
-from “Falmar: the Official Commission's Report”, Secret.
Kino had always liked to wander down to the river. The water held a particular allure for her: all the eddies and swirls at the banks, the cold water rushing down from the mountains in the distance. This land was a wild land, and life was thin here. She scrambled over rocks covered in the native plants, a thin layer of greenish-yellow slime that carpeted the ground in every direction. Their miniscule roots burrowed into the rocks and transformed them into dirt, drinking up the sun and the air and making them fit for people to breathe. The slime would rub off onto her hands and make them tingle until she dipped them in the icy water.
Her favorite place on the river was a tiny island, really not so much an island as a place where the water split into two pieces around the base of a hill, making little waterfalls at the bottom, splashing over the bouldered rocks. She climbed it high, high, her pudgy little hands grasping in the familiar cracks, her pants snagging on the sharp outcroppings. From the top, she could see so far. Behind her: the mountains. To her left, about a mile distant, was her family's farm, where lush, edible greenery was tended by massive machines. Before her: the river, stretching on and down across the plain, curving and burbling as it went. And to her right was the wilderness: rocks strewn across a barren land, with just the occasional stray colonizing seed sprouting up into something recognizable, going on and on until the further mountains came into view.
Her mom didn't mind if she played out here, as long as she didn't go past the river. Kino knew better than to try to swim in the rushing water (it was too cold), and even if she did fall in, it wasn't so deep or that fast that she wouldn't be able to stand up and walk out. It was a shallow river. Young, her dad had said. A young river on a young planet, ready for them to grow old together.
Kino stood on the tallest boulder on the hill and looked up into the dusty grey sky, watching the birds wheel and tumble in the currents. Her short black hair flapped in the wind, and she brushed it angrily out of her eyes. The sun broke through the clouds and illuminated her little island, warming her cold hands.
She loved it here, in this empty, barren world. It was the only home she had ever known, and being out here was the best way to escape the chaos of her house with a screaming baby sister and harried parents always working on keeping the farm going. She and her sister had been born here, on Falmar, but her parents had been born on some other planet, far away. Her dad had pointed out its star in the sky one night.
Out here, Kino could just be herself, and play the games she liked to play. Today, she would play her favorite game. She sat down on the rock, and leaned back, staring up into the sky. The birds circled, and she stared at them, thinking about nothing else. She always could predict where they were going to go. They traveled in simple patterns, soaring up, then swooping down. She didn't think about what it would be like to be a bird, she just watched them until her mind was empty, filled with only the images of them spiraling. She breathed steadily.
When she didn't think of anything, just like that, she could feel the whole world around her. It was so easy. She had tried to explain it to her mom, one time, but her mom had shushed her and given her the baby to hold while she cooked dinner. Kino stretched out her mind to touch the birds, to feel the puffs of warm air pushing them up higher, higher. One day she had discovered that she could make the air hot and let the birds go higher. She thought she had imagined it, at first, but the birds really did fly so high. And then she had tried making the air hot in between her hands, and she had felt it.
Then she learned to make other things hot, too. It always took a long time, getting quiet and watching the birds before she could do anything. Then she would put her hand on a rock and make it hot. One time she had made it so hot that the rock had burned her fingers to blisters. She was more careful after that.
Kino always liked to try new things. She had thought that if she could heat up the air without touching it, she could maybe do the same thing to a rock, and so she did. There was a nice one that she had pulled out of the river a long time ago. It was smooth, and had bands of red going across it. Nice and heavy. Kino could make it so hot that the air shimmered, and the rock started to glow. She liked to take handfuls of river water and toss them onto it to make it sizzle. That was the most fun.
In one of her stories, her mom told her about the planet she had lived on when she was a little girl. There she had worked in a big kitchen, cooking fancy foods that they didn't have here on Falmar. She had worked for someone famous. Kino always liked to watch her mom cook. She would make the water sizzle on the stove, too.
Today, Kino had stolen an egg from the chicken coop. She pulled it out of her pocket and marveled for a moment at how smooth and solid it was. She knelt so that the rock was in front of her, and she made it hot. Tucking the egg between her knees, she warmed her hands over the little stone. The heat dried out the air and baked her skin. Her focus on keeping the rock hot was so intense that she didn't stop to consider how much heat was required to cook an egg. She carefully cracked it on the ground next to her, and fumbled a little as she separated the halves. Her mom let her do this in the kitchen. She was good at it.
The egg dribbled onto the rock and sizzled loudly, bubbling. The yolk cracked and the yellow liquid oozed out and solidified as soon as it touched the stone. Too hot, then. Kino stopped focusing on making the rock hot. She didn't know how to make it cool, so she just had to wait. She flicked a few drops of water onto it every once in a while to see when it was done sizzling, and when they stopped making noise and just placidly slid down its side, she prodded it lightly with her finger to check the temperature. It was still hot, but cool enough that she could use a second rock to scrape off her egg. She did so, and ate the resulting mess with her fingers.
Kino considered her handiwork. She had a lot to learn about cooking eggs, apparently. What was it that her mom knew about it that she didn't? A lot, probably, since her mom was like, a hundred years old. Kino shivered and looked up into the sky. Thick clouds were gathering at edge of the mountains. Fat, dark things that lurked menacingly. She washed her stone in the cold water of the river, then left it in her little spot. Gingerly, she climbed down off the hill and hopped the few rocks to the other side. She ran home, chubby little legs stumbling over the occasional rock and dip in her usual path.
She banged through the door of her house, and her mother turned and shushed her. She was jiggling the baby Bina on her lap, and in front of her were several pieces of one of their farm machines, and her mom's computer. Kino scrunched up her face and shut the door, a little more quietly this time. She came over and looked down into Bina's sleeping face, pursing her lips in an approximation of the baby's peaceful look.
"What's the weather like out there, Kino-lino?" her mother asked, using her pet name and ruffling her hair. Kino grabbed her mom's hand and removed it from the top of her head. She hated when she did that.
"Gonna rain," Kino said. "Big clouds."
"You feel like a chunk of ice. You should wear your jacket when you go out." It was true that Kino's clothes were a little to light for the weather, just a bright orange sweater and ragged jeans. Kino pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands and balled them into fists. She liked the feeling of how it pulled on her shoulders.
"Did you get the eggs earlier?" her mom asked. Kino nodded, not admitting that she had taken one. She wandered over to the fridge and looked inside. "What do you want for dinner, Kino-lino?"
There wasn't much in the fridge. It was early in the year, so their greenhouse stock was on its way out, and their main crops in the fields were still growing. And they hadn't been to the big store in town in a long time. It was a long way away and her dad didn't like going. Kino shrugged again and closed the fridge. There was still mutton in the freezer from the sheep they had killed earlier. They would probably eat that for dinner.
"Want to run me an errand?" Kino turned and looked at her mother. "Go tell your dad that there's a piece missing. When he got it off the big machine he must have left something behind. And tell him to come in before it rains."
Kino nodded and headed for the door.
"Are you sure you don't want to wear your coat, you little chilly bean?" But Kino was already outside before her mom could protest further. It wasn't as though she could get up and chase her, holding little Bina. That was the good thing about a baby sister: her mom didn't have time to bother her anymore.
She ran around the backside of the farmhouse, towards the outbuilding where her dad fixed up the machines. He wasn't in there. It was dark and smelled like oil, but there was no sound of her dad tinkering or working. She shut the door behind her and ran further back behind that building, to one of the barns.
They had a lot of animals: cows, sheep, chickens, pigs, goats, even horses. The barn was always loud when the cows were inside. They were in there now, and so was her dad. He leaned against the wall in the dusky barn light, drinking water out of a little metal cup that he filled with a hose. Kino trotted over to him and looked up. He wasn't wearing a jacket either, so Kino felt justified. It was warm in the barn, anyway.
"What's up, Kino-bean?" Some of the cows moo-ed at him mournfully.
"Mom says that there's a piece missing, and to come inside before it rains."
"I had to get the animals in first, didn't I?" He sounded a little out of breath, and his face was red.
Kino didn't say anything to that. She kicked a piece of straw into the nearby cow pen. "Your mother thinks I'm going to catch my death in the rain, but she lets you play out in that ice river. I don't understand it."
"I don't swim," Kino protested flatly. Her dad laughed, and the cow in the pen next to him turned laboriously around in protest of the noise, bell on its neck jingling. Kino's shoulders hunched up to cover her ears and block out the sound.
"I'm just joking with you," her dad said. "Here, want to help fill the water?" She nodded, and he handed her the hose. "You put it in the trough, and I'll turn it on for you, ok?"
She dragged the heavy hose behind her and filled up each of the water stations. Usually one of the robots did it, but her dad knew she liked to help and look at all the animals. Some of them were lying down, upset by the oncoming weather.
"Thanks, Kino-bean. Just hang that up here." Together, she and her dad wrestled the hose back to its customary spot on the wall. Outside, they heard the rain begin, fat drops hitting the metal roof like rocks. "Guess we'll be late on getting home before the rain, won't we?"
Kino didn't mind the rain. It was usually warmer than the river water. Thunder clapped overhead, shaking the barn. Several of the animals made unhappy sounds.
"Race you to the workshop?" her dad asked. "I need to get that piece for your mom." They lined up at the edge of the barn doors, and her dad pulled them shut with a heavy thud. "Ready, steady, go!"
The rain beat down on them as they splashed through rapidly forming puddles. The ground was so flat that the water had no good place to drain to, so it pooled in every indentation in the ground, turning the area into a bit of a swamp. They were soaking by time they reached the workshop, and they took shelter in its cool dark interior. Unlike the barn, it was quiet aside from the drumming of the rain on the roof. Her dad flicked on the lights, showing all the farm machines in various states of assembly. He walked over to one large grain harvester and leaned into its interior.
"Kino-bean, did your mom say what piece was missing?" His voice was muffled inside the machine.
"No," Kino yelled, so that he would hear her over the rain. He fished around inside the interior of the machine for a while. Kino, eager to help, pulled a light off his bench and brought it over to shine into the machine.
"Thanks," her dad said. "Got it." He emerged, triumphantly, clutching a circuit board with a few dangling wires. "Must have missed this one earlier."
Kino replaced the light on the bench as her dad tucked the circuit board inside his shirt pocket to keep it from getting wet in the rain. "Ready to head out?"
Kino nodded, and they repeated the mad dash back to the house. Her father banged open the kitchen door, this time, and her mother gave him the same glare. This time, though, Bina was awake, and started crying at the loud noise.
Rain made everything grind to a halt outside the house, so Kino retreated into her room to work on schoolwork until dinner. Her room was her own place. Like the little island in the river, it was hers and hers alone. She wouldn't even have to share with Bina, when Bina was old enough to have a real bed. There was another room that had been built just for her. So Kino decorated the space in the way she found best. Little carved rock figures her mom had made for her lined up along the wall, along with plastic figurines, woven grass dolls from their plants, and broken pieces of farm equipment cobbled together into little carts or moving little toys. She collected them all and arranged them in pleasing patterns, ruling them like her dad ruled over the robots that worked the farm.
Kino curled up on her bed and worked on schoolwork, half paying attention to the video lessons, then answering the questions. That took until dinner, and then after dinner, she returned to her room again, free to read or play or watch a movie as she pleased.
She could hear her parents talking through the thin walls of the house. "Are you sick?" her mom asked. "You look awful."
"Are you about to tell me I've finally caught my death from being out in the rain without a coat?"
Her mom laughed. "No. I just have to trust you're not giving Kino too many bad ideas about appropriate weather wear."
"Ah, she'll be fine. She's a native of this place. You can't expect her to wear a coat all the time. She's like the corn, ya know?"
"And you're like a delicate greenhouse tomato," her mom said. "You're so red."
"Maybe it's a cold."
"Well, don't breathe on Bina."
"Too bad you had me hold her all through dinner."
"I need a break from baby sometimes."
"I'll trade. You can go out and deal with the farm, and I'll stay right here with my two beautiful daughters."
"Heh. You'd never survive."
"Are you sure about that?"
There were some shuffling sounds, and her mom giggled. Kino rolled over and put her headphones in her ears, poking around on her computer to play her favorite music. She didn't need to listen to her parents complain about farmwork. Eventually, she fell asleep, and the rain pounded on the roof all night long.
Kino felt red, and itchy, and out of breath when she woke up the next morning. Her mother came in to find her when she didn't get up at her usual time to get the eggs from the coop. She stood over Kino's bed and laid her cold hand across her forehead.
"Can't believe it's you, too. You and your dad are two birds of a feather with this."
Kino just lay there and wheezed pathetically.
"Do you feel like you need to go to the doctor, or are you gonna be ok, Kino-lino?"
Kino wiggled her shoulders in a lying down approximation of a shrug.
"Well, let me take your temperature, and we'll see if we need to go into town, alright?"
Her mom vanished and returned a little later with the thermometer. Kino's temperature wasn't too much higher than normal. Nothing dangerous.
"Alright, looks like we'll just be waiting this one out, okay? I'll get some soup on. Gimme a shout if you need anything." Her mom left.
Her dad shuffled in a little later, as Kino was laying in bed staring at the ceiling. His face was beet red, and he sounded even more out of breath than he had the day before. "I heard you caught something from me, Kino-bean?"
Kino nodded, feeling a little bit miserable. Her dad took her phone and took a picture of them both. "Look how red we are."
In the dim light of Kino's bedroom, they both did look extremely flushed.
"Don't know where we could have gotten a germ from. None of us have been in town in a long time." He ruffled her hair, and she swatted his hand away. "You feeling ok?"
"Hot," Kino wheezed.
"Tell me about it, babygirl. Maybe take a bath and you'll feel better." Kino had very little interest in bathing. She wished she weren't so tired, so she could go outside and play and look at the birds. "I'm gonna go lay down, alright? You let me know if you need anything. Want me to open the window?"
Kino nodded as vigorously as she could without making her head hurt, and her dad slowly stood up off her bed and went to open the window. She noticed that his hands were shaking. The cold breeze that came in was an immediate relief on Kino's sweaty face, and she took a few breaths, as deep as she could.
"Yell at your mom if you want someone to close that, okay?" Kino nodded again. Her dad blew her a kiss and shuffled back out of her room.
Kino slept fitfully, alternating between boiling hot and bone chilling cold. The day was bright and sunny, and the light that poured through her open window disturbed her sleep. Her mother brought her soup during the day, and made sure she ate it. It seemed to be a passing bug, because by the night, Kino was feeling much improved. She was still sweaty and red, but her breathing was less restricted, and her energy had returned.
She found her mom in the kitchen the next morning, rocking a crying baby Bina. Bina was bright red, and Kino couldn't tell if that was just from her screaming, or if she was sick as well.
"Feeling better, Kino-lino?"
Kino nodded.
"Want to hold Bina for a bit? I need to check on your dad." Kino held her arms out, and her mother deposited the screaming baby in them. Bina was always heavier than she looked, and she only seemed to be getting more heavy every day. Kino wasn't going to drop her, though. She was good at holding her sister; that was why her mom let her do it.
"Hi Bina," Kino whispered to her little sister. As she held her arms underneath the baby's fat legs, Kino bobbed up and down, rocking them both. She stared into Bina's little dark eyes, and eventually she quieted down. Maybe she was just tired from screaming so much. The red color faded from her face, so it had just been from the crying. Bina had such a cute little nose. Had Kino looked like that when she was a baby? She couldn't even imagine it.
She bounced around the warm kitchen, holding Bina until her mom came back out.
"Kino," her mom said, unusually serious. "I think I need to take your dad to the doctor in town."
"Okay," Kino said, continuing to bounce Bina.
"How do you feel?" Her mom asked.
Kino shrugged as well as she could while still holding the baby. She felt much better. In fact, she felt wide awake since she had been in bed for a night and a day and a night.
"Let me take your temperature."
Her mom got the thermometer and Kino obediently opened her mouth to let her mom put it in. Bina reached up one of her chubby little hands to grab at it, but Kino yanked her head out of the way and Bina got her hair tangled up in her fingers instead. That was okay. She would let Bina touch her hair because Bina didn't know any better.
"Hmmm, looks fine. I think your dad’s lungs have gotten a bit worse?" Her mom sounded unsure. "Will you be okay at home with Bina?"
Kino nodded.
"We shouldn't be gone more than a couple hours. I don't want to bring you both into town. You know where her food is?"
Kino wandered over to the fridge, balanced Bina on her hip, and pulled out one of the bottles of milk that were in there.
"Excellent. Remember you need to warm it up before you give it to her."
There was an apprehensive look on her mother's face, but Kino didn't mind. She happily hoisted Bina higher onto her chest and poked at her face. Bina giggled a little bit. Her mom vanished into the bedroom, and came out a minute later with her dad. His face was a deep red, and he struggled to breathe. Every breath sounded like a horrible wheeze.
"See… you… later… Kino…bean," he wheezed. He patted her on the head, and she would have brushed his hand off if she wasn't so busy holding up Bina. "Bye…Baby…Bina."
Kino looked up at him, then gently butted her head against his side. She hoped he would have a good trip to town.
"Okay, if you need me, call me right away, okay? And stay inside. I don't want you bringing Bina to the river, especially not with all the rain we've been having."
Kino nodded.
"Alright, see you in a little while." Her mom smiled grimly and helped support her dad on the way out the door. Kino watched them go out the window. She heard the dull thrum of their family truck start up, and watched as it traveled off down the beaten dirt past their fields, following the river to town, many kilometers away.
She and Bina had a fine day together. Kino cooked herself eggs (on the stove this time), and warmed up Bina's milk and fed her. She changed her diaper, even though that was gross. And they played a fun game, where Kino held up Bina's arms, and then helped her pretend to walk around. Kino liked to do that; it was fun. More fun than putting Bina on the floor and laying there with her while she flopped around.
It was a good thing that the robots could take care of most of the farm jobs. Kino didn't know how to do very many, aside from collect the eggs. She did know how to do her schoolwork, though, and she showed it to Bina. Bina didn't care about books. She just kept sticking her hands in her mouth and drooling. That was what babies were like.
Her mom and dad weren't back by dinner time, so Kino made herself more eggs for dinner. That was the only food she knew how to cook, really. And even then, the eggs all stuck to the pan and got too crispy. She would have to have her mom help her later. She put Bina to bed after that, in her little crib, and Kino curled up in her parents' big empty bed, so that she would hear Bina if she cried.
Kino got a text message from her mom.
> Hi Kino-lino. We have to stay in town overnight. Are you doing ok?
< yes
> That's good. Dad says he loves you. Tell Bina that, ok?
< ok
> Do you have enough milk and food?
< yes
> That's good. I'll bring you back something fun from town, ok?
< ok
> Goodnight Kino and Bina
< goodnight
Kino did not say anything to Bina, who was asleep.
When Kino woke up the next morning, she went out and collected the eggs like usual. She changed Bina, and warmed up some milk for her on the stove. She fed it to her in the bottle. Then she cooked herself some eggs.
All day long, she hovered with one eye on her phone, waiting for her mom to send her another message. She didn't want to send one herself, because her mom was probably busy.
By time night came, Kino hadn't heard anything. She curled up in her parents' bed again, this time putting Bina on the blanket next to her. They cuddled up together, in the warm and dark house, waiting for their parents to return. Bina probably didn't know what was going on, but she cried anyway, and Kino couldn't make her stop, no matter how much she held her and rocked her.
The next day, Kino sat out on the front porch, holding Bina in her lap, looking across the cold expanse of their farm, hoping that the cloud of dirt kicked up by their family truck would come into view over the tops of the grains.
It didn't come, and by the end of the day, Kino was out of even frozen milk for Bina. She didn't know if cows milk would be good for her, but when Bina cried from hunger, that was what Kino went to the barn to go get. The animals there were listless. Although the robots took good care of them, it was still her dad who made sure the robots were doing the correct things. Kino didn't know how to best take care of the animals; she was still dwarfed by the cows and horses.
Kino fed Bina cows milk, and settled in for another long, sleepless night.
The next day, a strange man came to their door. He knocked on the window, and Kino put Bina down on the floor and went out to him. He had pale skin, and was wearing thick, rough clothes. His hair was long, and he smelled like the river water.
It almost felt like a dream. There was something about him that made her trust him. Maybe it was just that she had been abandoned by her family for several days, and she needed some adult around to tell her what to do, but this man was here, and she was going to do what he said.
He spoke quietly in a language that Kino didn't know, and gestured for Kino to follow him. They walked together to the barn, and he saddled the two horses without speaking. He led them and Kino back to the house and walked into the kitchen while Kino held the horses reins outside. Kino watched him rifle through their cupboards and pull out food, and put it in her father's lunch bags that he kept hanging on the door. The man tied the lunch bags to the saddles of the horses. Then he took Bina's sling, and tied it around his shoulders, and put Bina in it.
Kino let him. He wasn't going to hurt them.
The man helped Kino onto one horse, and made sure her little feet were steady in the stirrups. Then he lept onto the other, holding baby Bina gently. He clucked his tongue and urged the horses on, holding both reins. They walked off the farm, a long, long way, towards town.
