Loka (The Alloy Era), page 22
“According to the plaque, they cover a lot of NorthAm,” I said.
“Do you think we could ride our bikes on these,” Somya asked, “instead of waiting to take a boat to Tequestan? It wouldn’t violate the terms of the AC since the aqueducts are from the Human Era.”
“You won’t have a map without network access,” Halli said.
Somya smiled. “That’s okay. We know how to navigate by the sun and stars now, and we can follow landmarks. As long as we head west and north, we should get to the NorthAm mainland.”
“It would save us some time,” I said, thinking as I spoke. “We could cover the same daily distance on the bikes—maybe more since the ducts are level, and they’re wide enough to camp on.”
Somya met my gaze and raised their brows. I couldn’t help a little thrill of excitement. As much as I loved being on the ocean, I didn’t relish the idea of sitting around waiting for a boat. I much preferred to take our journey into our own hands.
The sun sank behind us as we made our way down to our bikes. When we reached the ground, we stood in awkward silence.
“I guess this is goodbye,” Somya said. They embraced Halli briefly and stepped back.
It was my turn. Halli wrapped their sturdy arms around me and said softly, “I’ll miss you.”
“Same,” I said.
We held each other for a few extra beats. As they turned to walk away, I asked them to wait. I rummaged in my sack and pulled out my wrinkled sketchbook.
“Here, something to remember me by,” I said.
“But where will you draw?”
I flashed a smile at Somya. “I have another book that’s only partially filled. I can use that one.”
Halli held the notebook to their chest and bowed. “I’m honored.” They gave us a nod and walked away toward the city.
Somya’s hand landed lightly on my shoulder. “You like them.” It wasn’t really a question.
“I do.”
“As more than a friend?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. Come on. We should get moving. We don’t have a lot of light left to get to the top and set up camp for the night.”
I swung my leg over my bike and started up the ramp. I didn’t look back.
DAY 73
We spent the next four days riding, and we didn’t see a single person the entire time. By our estimate, there was a descending ramp every hundred kilometers, most allowing access via a human-size valve in one of the sidewalls. Unlike the causeway at the start, these wrapped in a spiral around one of the support pieces. The ones along the ocean crossings ended in the water and weren’t worth the effort, as we discovered after making the trek once. Luckily the islands in the area were all within a day’s ride, so we could restock our food as necessary. Fresh water was tougher, but we discovered puddles large enough to fill our sacks, probably left over from the hurricane that had hit Oloubera.
Camping posed little trouble, except for the wind. We learned to pitch our tent against whichever sidewall provided more shelter. It rained on us once, for an hour or so during the day. The roots turned slippery, but the spongy base grabbed our tires harder and compensated. We covered ground as fast as we had in Asia, riding for about eight hours each day. The first day was the worst in terms of sore bottoms and muscles. Rune had insisted that I take a breather with me, and I used it whenever we had access to enough water. My pain level had pretty much gone to zero by then, but with the sudden exertion, I didn’t want to take any chances.
On the morning of New Year’s Eve, we rode across a fairly large island. Going by our map book, we guessed that it was Cubao, which meant we had a little over one hundred kilometers to the mainland.
“Less than half a day’s ride,” I said to Somya as we finished lunch.
To our east, clouds gathered on the horizon, and judging by the wind, they would eventually catch up to us.
“Maybe we can find shelter from the rain before it gets here,” I said.
Somya nodded, their gaze fixed on the aqueduct behind us. They raised a hand to shade their eyes. “Do you see something moving back there?”
I peered in the same direction. “No, but your eyesight’s always been better than mine. Maybe it’s an animal?”
Somya laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Why would an animal come up here?”
“It could be lost.”
I tried to recall what kind of fauna lived in this part of Earth.
“Whatever it is, I think it’s heading toward us,” Somya said. After a minute, they added, “It does look like it’s walking on four legs.”
“Hah! See, some poor creature wandered up a ramp, maybe in search of food, and we’ll have to help it get back down.” I grabbed their arm. “Som, maybe it’s a horse! I remember reading that NorthAm has wild horses.”
Somya packed up the last of our lunch items and swung a leg over their bike. “We may never know.”
I started pedaling with reluctance. “Let’s ride slowly. Maybe it will catch up.”
“Aks—”
“We have plenty of daylight to reach Tequestan.”
“Fine.”
I looked backward every few minutes to check if the figure had gotten closer. It grew larger every time, and it definitely had four long legs. After a while, I could resolve enough detail to see that it wasn’t a horse, much to my disappointment, and also that a human rode on its back. Perhaps a construct or alloy taking someone for a joyride? The aqueduct seemed like an unlikely destination for such a thing, but I didn’t know enough about Earth to judge.
Eventually, the two of them were close enough that it felt rude to keep pedaling. We stopped to drink water and waited for them to catch up. The rider had medium-brown skin and dark eyes, with dark curly hair in a close crop. The four-legged creature was nonliving so I guessed it was a construct. To my surprise, no identifying information about either of them came up in my visual.
“Hello,” Somya said with a smile.
The stranger came to a halt and gracefully swung to the ground. She introduced herself as Toypurina, and we responded with our names.
“It’s an unusual but pleasant surprise to see others up here,” she said. “What brings you this way?”
“And your companion is?” I asked, as delicately as I could in the face of her rudeness.
“Oh, this?” she said. Her round face broke into a smile. “Not a companion. A walker—a type of machine.” She placed a hand on its back, which came up to her shoulder. “It’s something of an heirloom, but it gets me around.”
On closer inspection, I noticed that the legs had a similar construction to Lumo’s walker-wagon. Perhaps the two devices came from the same era. The shape of the body resembled that of a horse, but in place of the head, it had a riser with a crossbar attached, kind of like the handlebars on our bikes.
“We’re making our way to the mainland,” I said, answering her question without giving away any real information. “What about you?”
“I’m returning from an annual pilgrimage. I come to Cubao every year to honor one of my ancestors and spend time with distant relatives.”
“Do you live in Tequestan?” Somya asked.
Toypurina laughed. “Oh no. I have a long way to get home. I live on the west coast of NorthAm.”
“We’re headed that way, too,” Somya said.
I tried to keep my exasperation from showing. We didn’t know yet how much we could trust this person. At least she hadn’t recognized us from the show.
“How far can your walker go?” Somya continued. “Perhaps we could travel together.”
I groaned inwardly. I knew Somya’s this-person-is-attractive face all too well.
“I can cover about four hundred kilometers per day at this time of year,” Toypurina said. “Less when it’s cloudy. What about yours?”
“We aim for about three hundred,” I said. “We’d hold you back.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “I never have company on these journeys. It would be an interesting change to travel with someone.”
She straddled her walker and waited for us to get on the bikes. The duct was wide enough for the three of us to ride side by side, but we ended up staggered after avoiding some soft spots. Somya and I had learned that the ground yielded more near a hole. Toypurina had clearly figured it out as well.
“So why are you up here?” she asked after a while. “I’m from an independent principality, and my family likes to minimize their involvement with modern ways. We use mounts except for emergencies.”
This time, Somya glanced at me for approval before answering. I shrugged. I had no idea what we could offer that would seem plausible, but given Toypurina’s attitude, perhaps we could trust her with the truth.
“Have you heard of the Anthro Challenge?” Somya asked.
“No.”
After our explanation, Toypurina’s demeanor didn’t change. If anything, she seemed excited and impressed by what we were trying to do. We spent the rest of the ride answering her questions about the places we’d seen and the troubles we’d faced along the way.
“I was here for the big storm,” she said. “It wasn’t so bad by the time it reached Cubao, but we still got plenty of wind and rain. Makes for nice travel conditions up here, though. When the lattice goes dry for a long period, the surface deteriorates in more places.”
“The lattice?” Somya said.
“That’s what we call the waterways. From orbit, they look like a giant lattice, and they go everywhere. I stay on them for most of my journey.”
“All the way to the west coast?” I asked.
“Yes. You can reach many parts of NorthAm via the lattice. During the catastrophic years, people needed to move water around a lot, and then later, when the rivers were being rehabilitated, the lattices were the best way to distribute rainfall.”
Riding on the elevated ducts had made our lives much easier, too. We didn’t have to worry about unfriendly humans or hiding our gear at night, and with Toypurina at our side, we wouldn’t get lost. The only downside was the climb down and back up when we had to resupply.
“We’re trying to get to Tongvana so we can find another sailboat and continue across the Pacific,” I said. “Do you know the way there?”
She laughed. “Yes, that’s where I live. I’m happy to guide you.”
Somya’s face lit like it had when I said that Freni could go farther with us. I hoped that this time, things would end on a better note for my heartsib.
DAY 80
Over the next week, we made good progress. Toypurina knew exactly where to go, which was a big help because the lattice followed topographic contours rather than a grid, making navigation a challenge. Toypurina—or Toya, as she preferred once we got to know each other—had made the journey enough times to know the way. She had marked some of the junction points with cloth during her first attempt, and the faded strips still hung in place.
When we arrived above Kado, we were about a third of the way to the west coast. We took turns with the supply runs, leaving one person with the bulk of our gear while the other two descended. At Kado, Somya stayed behind. As Toya and I rode down the spiral ramp, I got a better look at our surroundings. The land stretched out in every direction, flat as a geometric plane. From our position, all I could see were the tops of trees. They swayed in a rising breeze as clouds gathered in the sky above us. We’d experienced two rains already, both fairly heavy but also brief. The first time, I’d worried that the duct would fill up and we would have to stop riding until the weather cleared. Instead, most of the water had fallen through the spongy surface, leaving our ride wet but doable. Toya explained that the root structures solidified below us, forming a sort of pipe to carry the water. Every hole allowed that water to escape, though, so the aqueducts didn’t function as well as they once had.
Using my bike and her mount, we descended quickly. We left our rides at the base of the ramp and headed into Kado on foot. The buildings in town looked so much like Vaksana that it reminded me of my parents. Chedi should have passed by Earth several days earlier, which meant that my maker and mother would have briefly reunited. I wondered what they thought of our adventures, and part of me wished I could spend a day with them.
I missed Halli’s company more. Somya had worked their charms on Toya—no surprise—and the two of them had grown close. She had a more even temperament than Freni. During the day, she made a point to include me in conversations. Toya had a wide-ranging knowledge of the people and places we passed, but she didn’t share the love for fauna that Halli and I had.
We approached a community garden after dark and didn’t see any people around.
“Do you want to get the produce or the dried goods?” Toya asked.
I chose the latter. A modest storehouse squatted near the vegetable beds. In addition to picking up millet, cornmeal, and dried beans, I riffled through the selection of clothing. We were gradually accumulating items to replace what we’d lost to the hurricane. I found a hip-length shirt woven with bright geometric patterns that fit me, so I added it to my sack. A beautiful matching skirt tempted me, but it would have been impractical for riding, so I left it and grabbed a pair of simple brown leggings instead.
I emerged from the storehouse and scanned the area for Toya. A flash of light caught the corner of my eye. The clouds were soaked in deep purple and limned by the golds and pinks of sunset. A streak of lightning traced its way from one mass to another. I hurried over to Toya.
“Almost done?” I asked her. “We should try to get back before it starts to rain. That must be why no one’s here.”
“Yes. I was going to pick some custard apples, but we don’t really need them.”
We kept a brisk pace back to the lattice. Lightning illuminated the sky above us every few seconds, and thunder rumbled menacingly, but no rain fell. The wind blew cool and moist at our backs. As we neared the lattice, I noticed a strange gray cloud that stretched vertically between the lattice and the sky. It twisted and writhed like a living being.
I grabbed Toya’s arm and pointed at it. “Is that a tornado?”
Her expression filled my stomach with ice. “No, it’s smoke. We’d better hurry.”
I had seen small fires on Chedi, but the scale of this one defied my imagination. I didn’t know what it signified. Going by Toya’s reaction, it was nothing good. We ran the rest of the way and rode our mounts as fast as we could up the ramp. The smell reached me first. It tickled my nostrils with its familiarity. After a few minutes, my throat grew dry and irritated, and as we approached the top, my eyes began to water.
Toya held out a hand and forced us to a stop.
“We need something to cover our noses and mouths. Maybe we can rip off the bottoms of our leggings.”
I pulled out the new pants from my sack. “How about this?”
The fabric didn’t tear easily, but with our combined strength, we split it in two, doused the pieces in water, and wrapped our faces. The makeshift mask didn’t help my eyes, but the intense acridity eased from my breath.
At the top, smoke and heat buffeted us. To our right, flames licked at the dry walls of the duct, while clouds of gray and white billowed from the floor. In the other direction, the air was clear. There was no sign of Somya that way, but our campsite lay in the direction of the fire. We rode toward it, yelling out Somya’s name. There was no response. We did our best to stay toward the center of the lattice and away from the flames. I coughed and blinked ash from my eyes. Our tent loomed, a triangular shadow, gray upon gray. Toya reached it first. She lifted the flap and ducked inside. I dropped my bike and followed her. Coughs racked both our chests.
Through the haze, I spotted Toya crouching next to Somya’s supine figure.
“Help me carry them to my mount,” she shouted over the crackle of flames.
I nodded and grabbed Somya’s legs. Toya took their shoulders. We managed to drape them over the front of the mount. I held them in place while Toya clambered up. She rode back toward the ramp, against the wind. I grabbed my bike, then hesitated as I spotted the breather. Somya had placed it next to my bedroll, where they always left it ready for me. I stuffed it into my sack and rode after Toya.
Their silhouette faded until I burst out of the smoke. Lightning flashed and threw the scene into unflinching clarity: Somya on the ground, still unconscious; Toya nearby, wiping the soot from my heartsib’s face with the damp pant leg. I flung my bike to the ground and yanked the breather from my sack. With trembling hands, I hooked the hose up to my water bladder, turned it on, and placed the mask over Somya’s mouth and nose. Only then did I notice Toya’s fingers pressed to Somya’s wrist. I met her gaze. I couldn’t ask the question out loud.
She nodded at me. “Their pulse is weak, but it’s there.”
With a shaky breath, I sat back. Time froze as the first drops fell from the sky. Wake up, Som! You have to wake up! I stared into the turbulent sky. No indriyas—not surprising considering the weather. Calling for help meant going back to Kado. How long could a person safely be unconscious from smoke? I would violate the challenge if I connected to the network to look up medical information. I thought we had learned all of the essentials, but we’d never considered fire or smoke exposure. Toya still had her hand wrapped around Somya’s wrist.
What should I do?
I closed my eyes. The Anthro Challenge wasn’t worth my best friend’s life. I formed the thought-command to activate my public network access. A cough interrupted me. My eyes snapped open. Somya had rolled onto their side. Their eyes were open, and their arms propped up their torso as spasms shook them. They yanked off the mask and retched. When they finished, Toya held her water bladder up to Somya’s lips. They sipped, spit, and broke into another coughing fit. After catching their breath, they pulled the mask back on. I burst into tears.
Somya pulled me into a hug. “I’m all right,” they rasped. “It’s all right.”
I wept into their shoulder for a minute before calming myself. Somya smiled wanly as I pulled back. They turned and embraced Toya as well.
