World Warden, page 12
With a sigh, Oscar stood up again, just in time to see Samantha arrive at the stream with several things in her arms.
“Hi!” he stammered, trying his best to seem casual in the water while being excruciatingly aware that he was naked and that the stream was crystal clear. “Um, you came back quick.”
“Yes,” Samantha answered matter-of-factly. “Here are some clothes for you, some soap, and a sponge.” She crouched next to the water and offered him the bundle.
“Sure, uh, thanks,” Oscar replied, not moving his hands from their strategic position covering his genitals.
“Well, take them,” Samantha answered impatiently. “I will be back in thirty minutes, and I expect you to be clean by then.”
“Okay,” Oscar said, blushing beet red as he half came out of the water to accept the things. “Thank you.”
“Thirty minutes,” Samantha replied, already turning away. She had not seemed uncomfortable in the least, although Oscar realized she had averted her eyes somewhat when she had given him the stuff.
Alone again, Oscar placed the clothes on a nearby rock so they would remain dry and took the soap and sponge.
“Wow, an actual sponge?” he mused aloud, turning the object over in his hands. He returned to the deep part of the stream and observed it. He was familiar with sponges from his biology lessons, but he had never actually held one. The simple organism was exactly the same as the illustrations he had seen, however. It was a dull hay color, irregular in shape and about as big as his hand. It was also extremely light, riddled with holes both big and small. When he submerged it in water, the sponge absorbed it immediately but retained a somewhat rough texture. When Oscar took it out, he wrung it, and most of the water came out quickly. The sponge retained its shape, none the worse for wear.
Next he analyzed the soap. It had a strange woody smell he could not quite place but that was fresh and pleasant. He dipped it in water and rubbed it on his skin experimentally. It worked like normal soap, apparently, and Oscar scrubbed himself clean diligently over the next few minutes. The sponge came in very handy, and soon he felt renewed. It was odd, but the mere fact of being clean made him feel much better. His shoulder ached a little bit less, and when he came out of the river, he was full of energy.
He allowed the wind and the sun to dry him since there were no towels in sight, although he kept a careful lookout in case Samantha came back. She didn’t, though, and soon he was dry enough to try on the clothes she had provided for him. The underwear fit reasonably well, although it was a little bit threadbare. He received a surprise, though, when he saw the rest of the clothes.
“No way,” he said to himself as he picked up the shirt. “No way!”
He blinked as he studied the shirt, turning it around in his hands. Then he blinked again.
“There is no way,” he said again.
Nevertheless, when he looked at the collar and the tag that was still attached to it, he realized the shirt he was holding was authentic.
He held it up at arm’s length, admiring it. The colors were much faded, but the light-gray fabric still had the unmistakable logo of the generation ship Ionas embroidered in black and gold on the top left. On the right sleeve, near the shoulder, there was an orange V-shaped line, embroidered as well, that indicated this synthetic work shirt would have been worn by a member of the engineering team aboard the spacecraft that had carried his ancestors to the planet.
Oscar put it on reverently, and he marveled at its softness. Other than the somewhat shorter length of the arms, it fit him very well. The pants that came with it were also faded and a bit torn around the knees, but they were original garments of the Ionas engineering uniform, black, with the same orange V-shaped indicator tag above the left hip. He put them on and found that they were way too big for him, but he remembered learning in one of his history classes that old clothing such as this often had adjustable belts and drawstrings, so he felt around the waistline until he found a button. He pressed it, and the waist on the pants zipped up automatically until it fit right. He couldn’t do much about the rather short length of the legs, but he still felt like someone out of a documentary as he turned around to look at his own reflection on the surface of the stream.
“Wow,” he whispered.
He activated his link and took a selfie to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. When he looked at the picture he had taken, he smiled.
Oscar sat down, intending to wait, but his link told him that there were still fifteen minutes to go before Samantha came back, and he got restless. He folded his dirty clothes carefully and carried them with him as he set out to try and find his erstwhile captor. He had not gone more than a few steps when he saw her, but she was not headed in his direction.
She was going back to the prison.
Oscar was about to call out to her, but the expression on her face stopped him. She was far away enough that he could have mistaken the somber set of her features for something else, but to Oscar she appeared to be very sad. She was carrying the satchel she often used when she had brought food to him, and Oscar watched, curious, as she arrived at the prison and stopped in front of the other cell.
The one next to where Oscar had stayed. The one with the creature that had moaned and scratched and even hurled itself at the wall separating them.
Oscar stood silently, watching Samantha fiddle with the keys and slide the correct one into the lock. She opened it, put it aside, and took out something from the satchel. It looked like a bowl brimming with food. Samantha stood for a moment outside the cell, and to Oscar it seemed as though she was steeling herself before she entered. Then she opened the door and went inside.
A minute went by. Then another one. Oscar began to worry after five minutes when Samantha still had not reemerged.
What if she’s hurt? What if that thing in the cell attacked her? Should I go?
I’m going.
He started walking in the direction of the prison, but Samantha came out a few moments later.
She was crying.
Oscar dropped down to his knees instinctively and watched her from among the tall grass that surrounded him. He noticed she had come out with an empty food bowl, different from the one she had carried in. Samantha locked the cell methodically and then left the way she had come, her eyes cast down, occasionally wiping tears off her cheeks with the back of her hands. She walked resolutely downhill, among the charred ruins of what could have once been houses, until she disappeared from view.
Oscar returned to the stream and sat down on the flattest rock he could find. He had the distinct impression that he had intruded on Samantha’s privacy, and he felt bad about it.
At the same time, however, he was intensely curious about the creature in the cell.
What could be there? A wurl?
A few minutes later, Samantha returned.
“Ready?” she asked Oscar.
“Clean and fresh,” Oscar replied, smiling and spreading his arms wide. “How do I look?”
Samantha opened her mouth as if to reply, and for an instant, the same sadness swept across her face like a windborne shadow. “The clothes fit. Good.”
“Yeah,” Oscar said. He considered talking to her about what he had seen, but he still didn’t know her very well, and he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. Instead, he opted to try and distract her from whatever was going on. “Where did you get these?” Oscar asked, pointing at the shirt and pants he now wore.
“We had them. I apologize if they are slightly worn out. They are—”
“More than a hundred years old!” Oscar finished for her. He couldn’t suppress the excitement in his voice. “People back home would go nuts for original clothing from the Ionas in such good condition! My dad says they made things better back then, built to last, but this is insane. I’m wearing actual vintage clothing the colonists wore!”
“Your… dad?” Samantha asked, with an odd catch in her voice.
Oscar nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Do you want to see him?”
“See him?” Samantha echoed, looking confused. “But he is—”
“I have plenty of photos of my family,” Oscar told her, fiddling about with his link until the display showed a picture of his father at his workstation. “This is him. See? His name is Bradford.”
Samantha gasped. She looked at the holographic projection in wonder. “Your computer can do that?”
“Well, the lighting’s not great, and the projector on my link is a bit old, but yeah. It’s my dad. What do you think?”
Samantha looked at him for a long moment. “He looks like a kind man.”
Oscar smiled. “He’s very patient. I was training under him, since I’m going to be the next telecommunications specialist in Portree. He’s taught me all about satellites, remote communication, machine protocols, and so on.”
“Interesting.”
“I know, right? I think it’s fun. Here, let me show you a picture of my entire family,” Oscar said, calling up a photo from the Midwinter Feast two years prior. “This is me. This is Elias, but before, you know, everything. This is my dad again, and this is my mom.”
“Your family looks happy.”
“Yeah, although back then Elias and my dad would fight all the time. And my mom was sick. See how she’s so thin? She’s doing better now, though.”
“I am happy to hear that.”
“I think it’s because the world is healing,” Oscar piped up, feeling relieved at having someone to talk to. “It’s weird, but I think she was connected to the world in some way. That’s why none of the doctors could help her before.”
Samantha pointed at the link after Elias shut off the projection of the photos. “Your computer is amazing.”
“We call them links. Everyone has one. Don’t you?”
“No. I think my grandmother keeps one, but it is broken.”
“Your grandmother?”
Samantha nodded. “Yes. Come with me, male. You must be hungry, and lunch should be ready by now. You will meet my family, as I have met yours.”
“Sure, let’s go!”
Samantha took Oscar back the way he had come when he first arrived. They walked through the husks of buildings long since abandoned and headed in the direction of the cliffs and the only building, aside from the prison, that remained standing.
In the light of day, Oscar saw that his first impression of it resembling a barn had been accurate. The outside looked dilapidated, incongruously rustic next to the high-tech solar panel array that flanked the structure’s eastern side. The house was large, and Oscar calculated that it was about three times as big as his own back home. However, most of the windows were boarded up. The walls had no paint to speak of, and creeper vines covered the southern side of the structure completely. He could see only one door, big and imposing and made of what looked like heavy wood. It was outside this door that Samantha and he stopped.
They were close to the ocean now. Oscar realized that it was possible to see a bit of the water from where they were, over the cliff’s edge about a hundred meters away. The sea was a deep, dark blue, strangely forbidding. Behind them, due north, the bulk of the volcano loomed overhead. Oscar could not help himself—he looked up at the caldera atop the conical mountain where, he knew, Dresde waited for Elias and her revenge. Oscar shuddered, remembering how she had enjoyed his suffering, how she had hurt him and relished his fear.
The heavy door creaked, startling Oscar out of his reverie.
“Sam?” a voice asked.
“We’re here, Oma,” Samantha replied.
The door swung out some more, and an elderly woman stepped into the light. She was shorter than Samantha, and her hair was silver-white. She wore a dress, white and immaculate, and her skin was a deep chestnut tone. Her eyes were dark brown, and they were piercing, projecting strength. Despite her evident age and the wrinkles on her face, she moved with undeniable grace. With a start, Oscar realized he had seen this person once before.
The woman looked him up and down carefully, and Oscar had the uncomfortable sensation that he was being judged or assessed in some way.
Then she nodded. “Greetings, male,” she said to him. “I am Nadja.”
“Nice to meet you,” Oscar replied right away. “My name is—”
Nadja held up her hand, which looked oddly stiff. “Your name will not be necessary. Please, this way. Lunch is ready. You may leave your dirty clothes over there.”
Oscar obeyed, stashing them nearby. He was the first to step into a dark cavernous space that his eyes had a hard time adjusting to after the bright sunlight outside.
As he crossed the threshold, he glanced back and heard Nadja speaking to Samantha in a soft voice.
“He is very young,” Nadja said with a sigh. “What a pity.”
Click.
Oscar jumped a bit, startled. Someone had turned on the lights, and he realized he was in the middle of a large kitchen that led into a simple but spacious dining room, with a living room farther down. Despite the fact that it was noon, all the boarded-up windows were covered with what looked like heavy curtains. Nevertheless, the light coming from overhead was bright enough to illuminate the entire space in a warm yellow glow.
There was someone standing by the light switch. It was a woman, older than Samantha but younger than Nadja. She was quite thin, and for an instant she reminded Oscar of his own mother. She was wearing a simple tunic, together with a kitchen apron, and her raven-black hair was braided neatly, with part of the braid falling over her left shoulder like Oscar had seen Samantha wear hers.
“Oh, hi,” Oscar said reflexively.
The woman smiled, and Oscar was taken aback at the warmth of the expression. Both Samantha and Nadja had seemed somewhat hard, but this woman actually approached Oscar, beaming. She had a bowl in her hands and held it up to him. The bowl was full of dumplings. She nodded in an evident invitation.
“Thanks!” Oscar replied, realizing he was starving. “I’ll go ahead and take one if that’s okay.”
The woman kept smiling. Oscar reached into the bowl, took one of the dumplings, and popped it into his mouth. It was delicious. He had not tasted anything like this yet. The inside was creamy, and the taste reminded him of mushrooms, but there was a tart, spicy tang that could have been tamarind or chili and complemented the flavor wonderfully. At the very center, there was something crunchy and juicy that tasted similar to a fresh bell pepper.
“Wow, this is amazing!” Oscar observed, chewing still. He covered his mouth and swallowed. “Oops, excuse me. It’s really good!”
The woman laughed. Oscar realized that it had been a while now since he had heard anyone laugh, and he found himself grinning from ear to ear.
The door behind him was all but slammed shut, and Oscar glanced back.
“This way, male,” Samantha told him, her voice carrying a hint of impatience. “Do not forget to take your shoes off.”
“Uh, sure. Thank you so much for the dumpling, um….” He hesitated, looking at the woman.
She kept standing where she was and lifted the bowl, inviting him to take another one with a little nod. Her smile had not wavered, nor had she spoken, and it was at that moment that Oscar realized something was wrong with her.
“That’s very nice, dear,” Nadja said to the woman, using a tone one would use to talk to a young child. “He really likes your food. Come this way. I’ll help you serve.”
The woman looked confused for a moment, glancing between Oscar and Nadja. Then she allowed herself to be led away to a nearby kitchen counter where many plates full of enticing-looking food were waiting.
Samantha grabbed Oscar’s good shoulder. “Come. We will sit down.”
“Okay,” Oscar replied.
Samantha led him to the table that occupied the center of the dining space. It was large, easily able to seat twenty people. It appeared to have been built out of the very hard obsidian-black wood of a yult tree.
“This table is incredible,” Oscar said, with a last fleeting glance at the middle-aged woman, who was now busying herself with several plates.
“It has been here for a very long time,” Samantha replied. She pointed to a seat, which Oscar took. She sat across from him.
“Back home we don’t often work with yult wood unless it’s something important,” Oscar explained. “It’s too hard, and you need to be really good at carving it right. Most people have furniture made from artificial polymers. It’s light and easy to manufacture.”
“Polymers,” Samantha echoed. “Large molecules made of identical sections.”
“Wow, are you into chemistry?”
“I have received a comprehensive education,” she replied. “We keep certain records that provide us with ancient knowledge. I was taught by my grandmother.”
“And she is an exceptional student,” Nadja commented, setting down a couple of trays of food in front of them. “Very bright. Excellent memory.”
“I’d love to help set the table if that’s okay,” Oscar said, remembering his manners. “Should I bring some plates or pour some water for all of us?”
Nadja looked taken aback for an instant. “No, thank you. You are our guest today. Please make yourself at home.”
“Thank you, Mrs., um ….” Oscar hesitated.
Nadja raised an eyebrow. “A marriage title? As if I belonged to a male, and I had taken his family name and forgotten my own? That is not necessary here, young male. Nadja will suffice.”
Oscar blushed. “Thank you, Nadja.”
The other woman came to the table and placed several plates in front of them while still smiling absentmindedly. She and Nadja set the table quickly and efficiently, pouring water from a rather rough-looking pitcher and distributing silverware, and they then sat down to join Oscar and Samantha. Nadja was at the head of the table to Oscar’s right. The middle-aged woman sat next to Samantha. There was an empty seat immediately next to Oscar, and that was all. The rest of the wide, imposing table seemed somehow much larger now that everyone was there.
“Welcome to our home, young male,” Nadja said. “I am the head of the household. You already know Samantha, my granddaughter,” she added, gesturing with her left hand. It still looked oddly stiff, and Oscar suddenly realized why. It was a prosthetic that did not move. Although it was beautifully carved and each finger had been shaped in a realistic way, the material from which it had been made had a rather dull sheen, and it was a little bit darker than Nadja’s natural skin tone.
“Hi!” he stammered, trying his best to seem casual in the water while being excruciatingly aware that he was naked and that the stream was crystal clear. “Um, you came back quick.”
“Yes,” Samantha answered matter-of-factly. “Here are some clothes for you, some soap, and a sponge.” She crouched next to the water and offered him the bundle.
“Sure, uh, thanks,” Oscar replied, not moving his hands from their strategic position covering his genitals.
“Well, take them,” Samantha answered impatiently. “I will be back in thirty minutes, and I expect you to be clean by then.”
“Okay,” Oscar said, blushing beet red as he half came out of the water to accept the things. “Thank you.”
“Thirty minutes,” Samantha replied, already turning away. She had not seemed uncomfortable in the least, although Oscar realized she had averted her eyes somewhat when she had given him the stuff.
Alone again, Oscar placed the clothes on a nearby rock so they would remain dry and took the soap and sponge.
“Wow, an actual sponge?” he mused aloud, turning the object over in his hands. He returned to the deep part of the stream and observed it. He was familiar with sponges from his biology lessons, but he had never actually held one. The simple organism was exactly the same as the illustrations he had seen, however. It was a dull hay color, irregular in shape and about as big as his hand. It was also extremely light, riddled with holes both big and small. When he submerged it in water, the sponge absorbed it immediately but retained a somewhat rough texture. When Oscar took it out, he wrung it, and most of the water came out quickly. The sponge retained its shape, none the worse for wear.
Next he analyzed the soap. It had a strange woody smell he could not quite place but that was fresh and pleasant. He dipped it in water and rubbed it on his skin experimentally. It worked like normal soap, apparently, and Oscar scrubbed himself clean diligently over the next few minutes. The sponge came in very handy, and soon he felt renewed. It was odd, but the mere fact of being clean made him feel much better. His shoulder ached a little bit less, and when he came out of the river, he was full of energy.
He allowed the wind and the sun to dry him since there were no towels in sight, although he kept a careful lookout in case Samantha came back. She didn’t, though, and soon he was dry enough to try on the clothes she had provided for him. The underwear fit reasonably well, although it was a little bit threadbare. He received a surprise, though, when he saw the rest of the clothes.
“No way,” he said to himself as he picked up the shirt. “No way!”
He blinked as he studied the shirt, turning it around in his hands. Then he blinked again.
“There is no way,” he said again.
Nevertheless, when he looked at the collar and the tag that was still attached to it, he realized the shirt he was holding was authentic.
He held it up at arm’s length, admiring it. The colors were much faded, but the light-gray fabric still had the unmistakable logo of the generation ship Ionas embroidered in black and gold on the top left. On the right sleeve, near the shoulder, there was an orange V-shaped line, embroidered as well, that indicated this synthetic work shirt would have been worn by a member of the engineering team aboard the spacecraft that had carried his ancestors to the planet.
Oscar put it on reverently, and he marveled at its softness. Other than the somewhat shorter length of the arms, it fit him very well. The pants that came with it were also faded and a bit torn around the knees, but they were original garments of the Ionas engineering uniform, black, with the same orange V-shaped indicator tag above the left hip. He put them on and found that they were way too big for him, but he remembered learning in one of his history classes that old clothing such as this often had adjustable belts and drawstrings, so he felt around the waistline until he found a button. He pressed it, and the waist on the pants zipped up automatically until it fit right. He couldn’t do much about the rather short length of the legs, but he still felt like someone out of a documentary as he turned around to look at his own reflection on the surface of the stream.
“Wow,” he whispered.
He activated his link and took a selfie to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. When he looked at the picture he had taken, he smiled.
Oscar sat down, intending to wait, but his link told him that there were still fifteen minutes to go before Samantha came back, and he got restless. He folded his dirty clothes carefully and carried them with him as he set out to try and find his erstwhile captor. He had not gone more than a few steps when he saw her, but she was not headed in his direction.
She was going back to the prison.
Oscar was about to call out to her, but the expression on her face stopped him. She was far away enough that he could have mistaken the somber set of her features for something else, but to Oscar she appeared to be very sad. She was carrying the satchel she often used when she had brought food to him, and Oscar watched, curious, as she arrived at the prison and stopped in front of the other cell.
The one next to where Oscar had stayed. The one with the creature that had moaned and scratched and even hurled itself at the wall separating them.
Oscar stood silently, watching Samantha fiddle with the keys and slide the correct one into the lock. She opened it, put it aside, and took out something from the satchel. It looked like a bowl brimming with food. Samantha stood for a moment outside the cell, and to Oscar it seemed as though she was steeling herself before she entered. Then she opened the door and went inside.
A minute went by. Then another one. Oscar began to worry after five minutes when Samantha still had not reemerged.
What if she’s hurt? What if that thing in the cell attacked her? Should I go?
I’m going.
He started walking in the direction of the prison, but Samantha came out a few moments later.
She was crying.
Oscar dropped down to his knees instinctively and watched her from among the tall grass that surrounded him. He noticed she had come out with an empty food bowl, different from the one she had carried in. Samantha locked the cell methodically and then left the way she had come, her eyes cast down, occasionally wiping tears off her cheeks with the back of her hands. She walked resolutely downhill, among the charred ruins of what could have once been houses, until she disappeared from view.
Oscar returned to the stream and sat down on the flattest rock he could find. He had the distinct impression that he had intruded on Samantha’s privacy, and he felt bad about it.
At the same time, however, he was intensely curious about the creature in the cell.
What could be there? A wurl?
A few minutes later, Samantha returned.
“Ready?” she asked Oscar.
“Clean and fresh,” Oscar replied, smiling and spreading his arms wide. “How do I look?”
Samantha opened her mouth as if to reply, and for an instant, the same sadness swept across her face like a windborne shadow. “The clothes fit. Good.”
“Yeah,” Oscar said. He considered talking to her about what he had seen, but he still didn’t know her very well, and he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. Instead, he opted to try and distract her from whatever was going on. “Where did you get these?” Oscar asked, pointing at the shirt and pants he now wore.
“We had them. I apologize if they are slightly worn out. They are—”
“More than a hundred years old!” Oscar finished for her. He couldn’t suppress the excitement in his voice. “People back home would go nuts for original clothing from the Ionas in such good condition! My dad says they made things better back then, built to last, but this is insane. I’m wearing actual vintage clothing the colonists wore!”
“Your… dad?” Samantha asked, with an odd catch in her voice.
Oscar nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Do you want to see him?”
“See him?” Samantha echoed, looking confused. “But he is—”
“I have plenty of photos of my family,” Oscar told her, fiddling about with his link until the display showed a picture of his father at his workstation. “This is him. See? His name is Bradford.”
Samantha gasped. She looked at the holographic projection in wonder. “Your computer can do that?”
“Well, the lighting’s not great, and the projector on my link is a bit old, but yeah. It’s my dad. What do you think?”
Samantha looked at him for a long moment. “He looks like a kind man.”
Oscar smiled. “He’s very patient. I was training under him, since I’m going to be the next telecommunications specialist in Portree. He’s taught me all about satellites, remote communication, machine protocols, and so on.”
“Interesting.”
“I know, right? I think it’s fun. Here, let me show you a picture of my entire family,” Oscar said, calling up a photo from the Midwinter Feast two years prior. “This is me. This is Elias, but before, you know, everything. This is my dad again, and this is my mom.”
“Your family looks happy.”
“Yeah, although back then Elias and my dad would fight all the time. And my mom was sick. See how she’s so thin? She’s doing better now, though.”
“I am happy to hear that.”
“I think it’s because the world is healing,” Oscar piped up, feeling relieved at having someone to talk to. “It’s weird, but I think she was connected to the world in some way. That’s why none of the doctors could help her before.”
Samantha pointed at the link after Elias shut off the projection of the photos. “Your computer is amazing.”
“We call them links. Everyone has one. Don’t you?”
“No. I think my grandmother keeps one, but it is broken.”
“Your grandmother?”
Samantha nodded. “Yes. Come with me, male. You must be hungry, and lunch should be ready by now. You will meet my family, as I have met yours.”
“Sure, let’s go!”
Samantha took Oscar back the way he had come when he first arrived. They walked through the husks of buildings long since abandoned and headed in the direction of the cliffs and the only building, aside from the prison, that remained standing.
In the light of day, Oscar saw that his first impression of it resembling a barn had been accurate. The outside looked dilapidated, incongruously rustic next to the high-tech solar panel array that flanked the structure’s eastern side. The house was large, and Oscar calculated that it was about three times as big as his own back home. However, most of the windows were boarded up. The walls had no paint to speak of, and creeper vines covered the southern side of the structure completely. He could see only one door, big and imposing and made of what looked like heavy wood. It was outside this door that Samantha and he stopped.
They were close to the ocean now. Oscar realized that it was possible to see a bit of the water from where they were, over the cliff’s edge about a hundred meters away. The sea was a deep, dark blue, strangely forbidding. Behind them, due north, the bulk of the volcano loomed overhead. Oscar could not help himself—he looked up at the caldera atop the conical mountain where, he knew, Dresde waited for Elias and her revenge. Oscar shuddered, remembering how she had enjoyed his suffering, how she had hurt him and relished his fear.
The heavy door creaked, startling Oscar out of his reverie.
“Sam?” a voice asked.
“We’re here, Oma,” Samantha replied.
The door swung out some more, and an elderly woman stepped into the light. She was shorter than Samantha, and her hair was silver-white. She wore a dress, white and immaculate, and her skin was a deep chestnut tone. Her eyes were dark brown, and they were piercing, projecting strength. Despite her evident age and the wrinkles on her face, she moved with undeniable grace. With a start, Oscar realized he had seen this person once before.
The woman looked him up and down carefully, and Oscar had the uncomfortable sensation that he was being judged or assessed in some way.
Then she nodded. “Greetings, male,” she said to him. “I am Nadja.”
“Nice to meet you,” Oscar replied right away. “My name is—”
Nadja held up her hand, which looked oddly stiff. “Your name will not be necessary. Please, this way. Lunch is ready. You may leave your dirty clothes over there.”
Oscar obeyed, stashing them nearby. He was the first to step into a dark cavernous space that his eyes had a hard time adjusting to after the bright sunlight outside.
As he crossed the threshold, he glanced back and heard Nadja speaking to Samantha in a soft voice.
“He is very young,” Nadja said with a sigh. “What a pity.”
Click.
Oscar jumped a bit, startled. Someone had turned on the lights, and he realized he was in the middle of a large kitchen that led into a simple but spacious dining room, with a living room farther down. Despite the fact that it was noon, all the boarded-up windows were covered with what looked like heavy curtains. Nevertheless, the light coming from overhead was bright enough to illuminate the entire space in a warm yellow glow.
There was someone standing by the light switch. It was a woman, older than Samantha but younger than Nadja. She was quite thin, and for an instant she reminded Oscar of his own mother. She was wearing a simple tunic, together with a kitchen apron, and her raven-black hair was braided neatly, with part of the braid falling over her left shoulder like Oscar had seen Samantha wear hers.
“Oh, hi,” Oscar said reflexively.
The woman smiled, and Oscar was taken aback at the warmth of the expression. Both Samantha and Nadja had seemed somewhat hard, but this woman actually approached Oscar, beaming. She had a bowl in her hands and held it up to him. The bowl was full of dumplings. She nodded in an evident invitation.
“Thanks!” Oscar replied, realizing he was starving. “I’ll go ahead and take one if that’s okay.”
The woman kept smiling. Oscar reached into the bowl, took one of the dumplings, and popped it into his mouth. It was delicious. He had not tasted anything like this yet. The inside was creamy, and the taste reminded him of mushrooms, but there was a tart, spicy tang that could have been tamarind or chili and complemented the flavor wonderfully. At the very center, there was something crunchy and juicy that tasted similar to a fresh bell pepper.
“Wow, this is amazing!” Oscar observed, chewing still. He covered his mouth and swallowed. “Oops, excuse me. It’s really good!”
The woman laughed. Oscar realized that it had been a while now since he had heard anyone laugh, and he found himself grinning from ear to ear.
The door behind him was all but slammed shut, and Oscar glanced back.
“This way, male,” Samantha told him, her voice carrying a hint of impatience. “Do not forget to take your shoes off.”
“Uh, sure. Thank you so much for the dumpling, um….” He hesitated, looking at the woman.
She kept standing where she was and lifted the bowl, inviting him to take another one with a little nod. Her smile had not wavered, nor had she spoken, and it was at that moment that Oscar realized something was wrong with her.
“That’s very nice, dear,” Nadja said to the woman, using a tone one would use to talk to a young child. “He really likes your food. Come this way. I’ll help you serve.”
The woman looked confused for a moment, glancing between Oscar and Nadja. Then she allowed herself to be led away to a nearby kitchen counter where many plates full of enticing-looking food were waiting.
Samantha grabbed Oscar’s good shoulder. “Come. We will sit down.”
“Okay,” Oscar replied.
Samantha led him to the table that occupied the center of the dining space. It was large, easily able to seat twenty people. It appeared to have been built out of the very hard obsidian-black wood of a yult tree.
“This table is incredible,” Oscar said, with a last fleeting glance at the middle-aged woman, who was now busying herself with several plates.
“It has been here for a very long time,” Samantha replied. She pointed to a seat, which Oscar took. She sat across from him.
“Back home we don’t often work with yult wood unless it’s something important,” Oscar explained. “It’s too hard, and you need to be really good at carving it right. Most people have furniture made from artificial polymers. It’s light and easy to manufacture.”
“Polymers,” Samantha echoed. “Large molecules made of identical sections.”
“Wow, are you into chemistry?”
“I have received a comprehensive education,” she replied. “We keep certain records that provide us with ancient knowledge. I was taught by my grandmother.”
“And she is an exceptional student,” Nadja commented, setting down a couple of trays of food in front of them. “Very bright. Excellent memory.”
“I’d love to help set the table if that’s okay,” Oscar said, remembering his manners. “Should I bring some plates or pour some water for all of us?”
Nadja looked taken aback for an instant. “No, thank you. You are our guest today. Please make yourself at home.”
“Thank you, Mrs., um ….” Oscar hesitated.
Nadja raised an eyebrow. “A marriage title? As if I belonged to a male, and I had taken his family name and forgotten my own? That is not necessary here, young male. Nadja will suffice.”
Oscar blushed. “Thank you, Nadja.”
The other woman came to the table and placed several plates in front of them while still smiling absentmindedly. She and Nadja set the table quickly and efficiently, pouring water from a rather rough-looking pitcher and distributing silverware, and they then sat down to join Oscar and Samantha. Nadja was at the head of the table to Oscar’s right. The middle-aged woman sat next to Samantha. There was an empty seat immediately next to Oscar, and that was all. The rest of the wide, imposing table seemed somehow much larger now that everyone was there.
“Welcome to our home, young male,” Nadja said. “I am the head of the household. You already know Samantha, my granddaughter,” she added, gesturing with her left hand. It still looked oddly stiff, and Oscar suddenly realized why. It was a prosthetic that did not move. Although it was beautifully carved and each finger had been shaped in a realistic way, the material from which it had been made had a rather dull sheen, and it was a little bit darker than Nadja’s natural skin tone.
