The alarm on the Casio went off at 4:00 in the morning, its insistent beeping breaking the stillness of the early hours in the manyatta. Akur stirred; her eyes barely open as she turned over to face her younger sister, nudging her awake. “Aluel, it’s your turn today,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
Aluel groaned, the weight of the early morning dragging at her limbs. She rolled over on the worn fabric of her sleeping mat, burying her face burying her face in the thin, worn blanket. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled.
“No, now,” Akur insisted, her tone soft but firm. “The fog won’t wait. We need the water.”
“Ugh—I don’t wanna.” Aluel protested
“Ah! Wé, wacha! Tebu enda!” Akur ordered.
Aluel groaned, the weight of sleep still heavy on her, she slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She slowly, reluctantly, got up and dressed in her shuka. Taking the red rectangular cloth. She held it up by two of its corners and folded it in half lengthwise, bringing the two corners together. She now had a rectangle folded in half with two layers. Next, she tied a secure knot with a small section of fabric from each corner where the folded edge meets the long edge. This knot would rest at the small of her neck later. She unfolded the two layers of the fabric so that the knot remained in the center and she had a double-ended cylinder shape—with two open ends at the top and the slit at the front. She slid her arms through the two open ends, with the knot resting at the nape of her neck. The front of the shuka remained open, revealing the slit. Finally, she took the blue kanga and overlapping the two sides of the shuka, wrapped the kanga's length around the shuka at her waist in a skirt, securing them both with a knot. She had created a long, flowing dress that brushed the floor with her kanga securing it.
She then took her worn tan cotton sweater, the fabric soft from countless washes, and slipped it on. The fabric was rough but familiar against her skin. The early morning chill bit through the sweater, making her shiver as the morning air seeped through the walls of their bedsitter. The manyatta was a simple, dome structure, ten feet in diameter and ten feet high at its apex, providing enough space for the two sisters to sleep and store their few belongings.
Aluel slipped on her mushroom leather boots and tightened the laces around her ankles. She reached for her father’s shepherd staff, its smooth wood cool against her palm, and his solar-powered torch.
Akur, bundled in her own layers, watched her sister. “Be careful,” she said softly as Aluel picked up the solar-powered torch.
“I will,” Aluel replied, her voice still groggy from sleep. She turned the key, unlocking the door to the manyatta. She grabbed the knob and swung the door open.
The darkness was thick, the dense Venusian fog wrapping everything in a ghostly shroud. She flicked on the torch, casting a small circle of light in the otherwise impenetrable darkness, its beam cutting through the haze, illuminating the path ahead just enough for her to see her way. She stepped outside; the fog swirling around her like a living thing, so heavy she could barely see her own feet. The path ahead was barely visible, but she had long since memorized the layout of the camp. Each step was cautious but sure, her feet finding the familiar route.
The path to the enclosure was well-trodden, but the morning fog added an element of eeriness. Shadows loomed and shifted, turning familiar shapes into ghostly figures. Aluel tightened her grip on the shepherd staff.
The camp was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of fabric or a muffled cough as other families stirred within their own manyattas. The fog clung to everything, making the air feel thick. Aluel pressed on, the light from her torch cutting a narrow path through the mist.
She reached the enclosure, its makeshift gates slightly ajar. As she approached, an older woman with greying hair emerged, leading her own flock of canopy beasts. Aluel stepped aside to let her pass, her canopy beasts trailing behind her. The canopy beasts moved silently; their massive forms shrouded in the fog. Aluel exchanged a brief glance and a silent nod with her—everyone was still a stranger here.
Once the way was clear, Aluel slipped inside the enclosure. The familiar shapes of their own canopy beasts loomed in the dim light, waiting. Each machine stood eight feet high on four sleek long legs, gleaming in their white aluminum shelling. Like giant trumpet flowers, their flared tops fanned outward, stretching eight feet in diameter. Their wide canopies designed to maximize sun exposure, housed a suspension of chlorella algae within. Their aluminum canopies curved gracefully downwards, merging smoothly into the four-foot-long bodies that straddled their four sleek legs. Their bodies—two feet wide—descended four feet down from where their legs met their canopies. Black nylon netting covered the sides of their bodies, a stark contrast to the gleaming white of the aluminum. The creatures stood silently, imposing, their four long mechanical limbs motionless, their aluminum shelling glistening with the moisture of the fog. There were five of them: Matuta, Katuta, Watuta, Datuta and Charles.
She took a deep breath and stepped forward, raising the shepherd staff. She rotated a collar wound around the wooden exterior of the staff like a ring. It clicked softly once. A soft blue light blinked on as the Bluetooth signal came online. A soft hum indicated the staff’s readiness, and the beasts stirred to life. The shepherd staff’s unique Bluetooth signal called the beasts to her. They responded immediately, their sleek, robotic forms moving with a grace that belied their mechanical nature. Moving in unison, their sleek legs made hardly a sound on the packed earth. With a few practiced gestures, Aluel led them out of the enclosure.
She led them out of the enclosure, the beasts following her in two segmented columns. They moved through the camp, the sound of their mechanical legs a soft, rhythmic clinking in the pre-dawn silence. Aluel guided them to the highest ridge around the camp, her steps sure despite the fog.
The journey to the highest ridge was slow but it was routine by now. On the outskirts of the camp, they came to the black rocky crag they had scouted with her father and Akur during their first days at the site. As they climbed, the fog grew denser, the visibility shrinking to mere feet.
Finally, they reached the ridge. She lined up the canopy beasts in a straight line forming a continuous wall along the edge. With a practiced motion, she unfurled the black nylon netting on their sides extending them out like the wings of giant insects, glistened faintly in the torchlight, ready to collect the precious water from the fog. The dense Venusian fog rolled in, thick and heavy, the water droplets condensing on the nylon strands of the fog harvesters.
She watched as the droplets collected, a small smile of satisfaction playing on her lips. The process was mesmerizing. Intricate structures on the canopy beasts guided the water which trickled down the nylon netting, into their internal reservoirs. Their mechanisms humming faintly in the quiet. Aluel felt a strange sense of solitude on the ridge, the fog isolating her from the rest of the world.
Despite the early hour and the cold, there was a certain peace in these moments, a connection to the rhythms of life on this harsh planet. The process was almost meditative, the quiet broken only by the sound of the morning breeze, the occasional drip of water, and the soft hum of the beasts’ internal mechanisms.
Sitting there, shrouded in mist, she took a deep breath. The air was cool and damp, carrying the faint, earthy scent of the Chlorella algae. She would stay here a while longer, watching over the beasts until it was time to return to the camp.
As the sun rose and the first light of the Venusian dawn filtered through, Aluel took a moment to look out into the fog-covered landscape. The view never ceased to amaze her. Towering black rocky crags and desert ridges dotted the surrounding area and beyond them was the vast mysterious expanse of the Venusian desert, the fog giving everything an otherworldly quality.
When the harvest was complete, she began the slow journey back to the camp. Shepherd staff in hand—the canopy beasts followed her like obedient specters. The fog was beginning to lift, revealing the outlines of other manyattas and their occupants starting their day.
Arriving at the camp, Aluel guided the beasts back into the enclosure, securing the gate behind them. She turned off the shepherd staff, the beasts settling down for now. The morning’s task complete, she made her way back to their manyatta, the promise of breakfast and a few more hours of sleep pulling her forward.
Aluel moved with purpose the remnants of the early morning fog clinging to her skin like a cool, damp cloak. Wispy tendrils danced in the air, catching the golden light of the newly risen sun that bathed the Venusian horizon. The camp hummed with a vibrant morning energy. The women bustled about their chores, their voices a low murmur against the symphony of chirping birds awakening to the new day.
Some women trekked towards the spring, their colorful skirts swishing around their ankles as they balanced large clay jars precariously on their heads. Laughter, like wind chimes in the still air, spilled from a group of children playing near a manyatta. Some boys chased each other, their energy boundless despite the approaching heat. The girls, mirroring their mothers’ industriousness, gathered small bundles of firewood, or trailed behind them with smaller water jars.
Aluel passed a guard post. The man stationed there, his skin a deep dark hue and his features sharp, stood rigid in his pristine uniform, his gaze fixed on the horizon. His presence was a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond their small haven – roving militias and the unforgiving Venusian landscape.
Finally, Aluel reached their manyatta, a simple dwelling nestled within a scraggly hedge. Cacti forming the barrier, their edges sunburnt and shriveled, withstood the worst of the harsh environment. Yet, they provided a semblance of privacy and a meager shield against the dust storms that sometimes whipped across the plains. She pushed open the small, weathered gate and stepped into the familiar embrace of their humble yard.
From afar, the desert manyatta appears as a smooth, domed structure. Its rammed earth walls rise organically from the landscape, their rich, earthen hue blending seamlessly with the surrounding terrain. Crowning this dome sat a layer of stabilized earth, that served as a form of capstone for the manyatta.
She crossed the space to the door and pushed it open. Inside, the dome arched gracefully upward, the skylight at the apex letting in the early morning light. A warm glow filled the room as the light reflected off the earthen walls. Opposite the door at the other end of the room, Akur stood at the induction cooker her bright red shuka draped around her. She had tied it in a simple style with the knot resting on the nape of her neck. Her upper back showing, her jet-black skin contrasting with the bright red, the whole outfit held fast by a simple mushroom leather belt at her waist.
A waterskin and several utensils hung from hooks on the walls above the induction cooker, and lying underneath it was a clay pot along with several wooden bowls. On one side, the woven mats which they slept on covered the earthen floor, the thin blankets they slept under still tousled on them, their brightly colored woolen textiles a sharp contrast to the subdued tan of the room. Their change of clothes and travel bags lay in a pile next to the mats against the wall. The gentle hum of the induction cooker filled the air as the tea simmered in a clay pot. The air was cool and earthy, carrying the faint scent of toffee.
Her sister’s presence was a comforting sight in their shared space. She took off her boots placing them next to Akur’s by the door and stepped inside.
“Hey, I’m back!” Aluel declared moving, across the room to lean the shepherd staff against the wall, and set the torch down on a low-hanging shelf.
Akur looked up from adjusting the induction heater, where the pot of tea hummed quietly slowly warming to a simmer.
“How’d it go?” her sister asked apathetically.
“Meh, same as always, I guess,” Aluel responded, as she crossed the room and slumped down onto her mat.
“Hmm,” Akur grunted uninterested her thoughts drifting elsewhere.
Aluel’s breathing slowed letting sleep claim her once again.
Akur’s hands, weathered but graceful, moved with ease as she prepared breakfast. She reached for a clay pot on the ground next to the induction cooker, its top covered with a cloth to keep the contents fresh. Pulling back the cloth, she revealed the remaining half of the nutty toffee with bits of dates and raisins from yesterday’s dinner. Its sweet aroma mingled with the cool morning air, a promise of the familiar comfort they had enjoyed all their lives.
With deft hands, she scooped out the toffee, feeling its slightly sticky texture against her fingers. She slapped the toffee down onto a wooden bowl and began shaping it into two cakes, the toffee yielding easily to her touch. Her fingers worked quickly and efficiently, a testament to the countless times she had performed the routine. The nutty bits within the toffee provided a satisfying crunch as she formed the cakes, the nutty fragrance—rich and inviting.
Satisfied with the results, she returned her attention to the tea brewing on the induction cooker. The water had just reached the right temperature, steam curling up in gentle spirals, carrying the fragrant aroma of the brewing tea leaves.
Akur carefully lifted the clay pot from the heat diffuser with thick oven mitts. She poured the tea into two enamel cups, the rich, amber liquid contrasting beautifully with the simple, sturdy vessels. The cups, cool to the touch, soon warmed as the tea filled them, their enamel surfaces smooth under her fingers. Placing the nutty toffee cakes and tea on a small wooden tray, she moved quietly to where Aluel was still sleeping, her form curled under a light blanket, the rise and fall of her breath the only movement in the stillness.
“Aluel,” Akur called as she nudged her sister’s shoulder with her foot. “Wake up and eat.”
Aluel sighed, her eyelids fluttering open as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The sight of the nutty toffee and tea brought a small, tired smile to her face, the familiar comfort of breakfast drawing her out of sleep. She stretched, her muscles slowly awakening, and sat up, the blanket falling away to reveal her slight frame.
Akur bent over placing the tray on the floor between them before she slowly lowered herself to the floor, crossing her legs. She grabbed the whole cake in her hand and went to bring it up to her mouth. “Hey!” cried Aluel, “we haven’t blessed the food yet.” She protested. Akur blinked hard while pursing her lips before opening them again, “Right.” She acknowledged.
Aluel held out her hands and Akur took them in hers, "For this meal, we give thanks, in Jesus name, amen." Aluel recited then let go of her sister's hands and bit a chunk off of her cake. Her sister chuckled and continued with hers.
They ate in silence, the toffee a mix of sweetness and crunch, the tea warm and slightly bitter, a perfect counterpoint, its heat spreading through their bodies and warding off the morning chill.
Aluel broke the quiet, her voice wistful as she looked at her sister. “I miss chocolate,” she said, her eyes reflecting a distant longing.
Akur smiled knowingly and said, “Maybe one day soon,” her tone carrying a note of hope that they both clung to.
The warmth of the tea and the sweetness of the toffee grounded them in the familiar rhythm of their morning.
As the morning progressed, the air around the camp gradually warmed. The refreshing breeze that greeted the dawn lost its crispness, replaced by a gentle warmth that wrapped around everything. Shadows shortened as the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting sharper outlines on the desert landscape.
By mid-morning, the temperature had risen noticeably. What started as a pleasant warmth now edged towards discomfort, the sun’s intensity growing with each passing minute. Heat shimmered over the sand, distorting the horizon, and mirroring the growing unease in the camp.
Children, who had been energetically playing, now scurried back under the protective shade of the manyattas.
Even the guard stationed at his post seemed to seek shelter from the sun, his vigilant gaze occasionally interrupted by a hand wiping his brow.
Inside the manyatta, Akur and Aluel could feel the temperature rise despite the structure’s insulation. Aluel pulled off her sweater the sweat already beginning to bead on her forehead. The air inside was still cooler than outside, but they knew this story all too well.
They exchanged glances as they continued their morning routine. Akur handed Aluel the waterskin, and they took turns brushing their teeth, with their miswaks. The act was mechanical, a part of their daily rhythm. Afterward, they washed the dishes from breakfast and the previous night’s dinner.
The sisters moved quietly, the only sounds being the clink of dishes and the soft rustle of their clothing. Akur glanced at the small window, watching as the light outside grew brighter and harsher. She wiped her hands on a cloth and looked over at Aluel, who was carefully stacking the clean dishes. She met Aluel’s eyes once more, and they silently braced themselves for the heat of the day.
Yet within the canopy beasts, the chlorella algae eagerly embraced the touch of the sun’s light, basking in its warmth in the embrace of their canopies.
A microscopic ballet unfolded—an enchanting dance of light and life. A symphony in chemistry—transmuting sunlight into sugary nectar and releasing it into the liquid medium. The shimmering green liquid trickled down through the beasts’ sinuous internal structures. Gravity, the gentle orchestrator, guided the sweet suspension down through intricate pathways, its journey concealed by the aluminum shelling.
Through these intricate membranes nestled in root-like appendages, the liquid flowed. The chlorella algae tenderly sifted out, leaving behind a concentrated elixir of sugar. This nectar imbued with the sun’s bounty, flowed gracefully onward through the beasts’ sinewy limbs.
This golden suspension, a syrupy concentrate now enriched and vitalized continued its journey deeper into the beasts’ form. The process distilled the water into its purest form, which ascended like a silent stream back to the canopy through intricate capillary pathways.
The sugars coalesced in a pouch nestled between the front legs of the canopy beast at the front of its body. A bulbous mass began to swell. The pouch, soft and pliable, expanded slowly, almost as if breathing in the warmth of the day.
Back in the manyatta, the heat continued its steady climb. Akur and Aluel wiped beads of sweat from their brows, their movements becoming slower and more deliberate. Akur got up and retrieved a small ceramic jar from a woven basket near the Manyatta’s entrance. Inside, finely ground red ochre powder awaited. Unscrewing the lid, she revealed the earthy red pigment within and scooped a measured amount into a wooden bowl.
Adding the final drops of water from the water skin, Akur mixed the ochre into a smooth paste using her wooden spoon. The mixture took on a reddish-brown hue, thickening into a paste. She stood holding the bowl aloft and glanced across the room, spotting the forgotten wooden bowl nestled beneath the induction cooker. She carried the red ochre paste over and squatting, pulled back the cloth enshrouding its contents. The butter from yesterday’s harvest lay within its interior. She scooped in the leftover butter into the paste blending it all together until the mixture achieved a creamy consistency. The aroma of earth and butter mingled in the air, the familiar scent of otjize.
Aluel watched her sister’s methodical preparation, her gaze shifting from the bowl to Akur’s face, where determination and care intermingled.
“Will this be enough for the both of us?” she asked.
Akur nodded reassuringly. “Yes, it should be enough to cover us well until we can make more,” she replied, her voice steady.
The heat kept rising inside the manyatta. With careful strokes, Akur applied the homemade sunscreen to her face and exposed skin. The ochre-infused mixture left a reddish tint on her midnight-black skin, that shimmered subtly under the light of the bright Venusian sun. She repeated the process for Aluel, ensuring every exposed area received adequate coverage.
The sun continued its climb, soaring higher and higher. But despite the rising temperature outside, their skin felt cooler, shielded from the unforgiving heat.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting intense rays across the desert landscape, Akur and Aluel found solace in their shaded sanctuary. They sat together, leaning against the cool earthen walls of the manyatta, savoring the quiet moments before the afternoon chores began. The sunscreen, a blend of tradition and necessity, not only protected their skin but also served as a reminder of their resilience and adaptability in the face of Venus’s relentless climate.
The day wore on, steadily shrinking the long shadows of morning in its relentless march. The manyatta stood bathed in the desert sun. At the apex of its dome the round skylight—now functioning as a thermal chimney—was open wide. The door stood ajar and the warm desert air flowed in, naturally forcing upwards and out the stifling air within.
A dry wind whistled through the open door. Aluel squinted as she looked out, the bright light making her eyes water. She could see the Venusian landscape stretch out before her. The desert floor composed of fine ochre sand extended seemingly infinitely. Ascending from its surface—the black rocky crags and ridges that lined the outskirts of the camp stood stark, against an intense hue, of deep blue Venusian sky.
In the distance, small dunes dotted the terrain, and a gust of wind sent a swirl of sand into the air, creating a dust devil that twirled momentarily before settling back down. Heat ripples rose from the ground distorting her view. She felt a pang of longing for the coolness of Belt City. She thought of its mammoth ice sheet, taller than the snow-capped mountains, dwarfing the city below—a sight that always made her swoon a little. Thoughts of Auntie filled her mind and she wondered when they would be leaving the camp to reunite with Dad at Belt City.
She looked to her sister who was seated with her back to the wall staring at the ceiling, “When are we leaving?” she asked.
Akur was silent for some time, “When dad sends the money.” She replied matter-of-factly.
“When’s that gonna be?” Aluel pressed.
“Ugh—I don’t know Aluel!” Akur responded exasperatedly. Aluel looked down at her hands dejected. A silence settled over the room.
What was she supposed to say? It had been two weeks without any news from Dad. He was supposed to have arrived at Belt City three days ago. She had checked her phone every day since he had left, but no money—no nothing.
A million thoughts had been racing through her mind. Had he abandoned them? Left them to fend for themselves? Ran away with some twenty-year-old to start a new life on Ember? Did he get robbed in Belt City? They say crime was at an all-time high in the city. How was she supposed to pay the camp officials with no money? Whatever extra currency she made selling butter was not nearly enough to pay for the manyatta. Could she ask Meshack for the cash? What would he say? What would he do? No that was not a good idea. Maybe Auntie Friday? She didn’t know what to do.
She hadn’t realized that Aluel had placed her head on her lap and was surprised to find it there.
“What are you doing?” Akur asked.
“I’m sleeping…genius,” Aluel responded. Akur sighed, “Well get off we have to go and get the canopy beasts out of the enclosure.”
“Oh yay!” Aluel responded gleefully, “Can I carry the staff, can I, can I, can I?”
“Yeah—fine—whatever,” Akur responded dismissively.
She shot up and rushed to the staff leaning against the wall of the room, and grabbed it, her face beaming as she giggled. Akur let out a chuckle and shook her head, a gentle smile gracing her features.
Akur rolled up their sleeping mats, cradling them under her arms. She turned, “Let’s go.” She said. Aluel gave her an eager nod as she followed her.
Sliding on their boots they stepped outside. The afternoon sun bore down on them with unrelenting intensity. The heat hit them like a wave, almost palpable in its weight. Each grain underfoot was scorching, the ochre sands eager to sear through the leather soles.
The dry wind whipped around them, tugged at the loose ends of their clothes, swirling the fine ochre dust into tiny eddies that danced around their feet. They made their way through the camp, each manyatta casting a short, dark shadow, the only refuge from the blazing sun overhead.
They moved past some other inhabitants who were similarly braving the afternoon heat. There were murmured greetings and nods of acknowledgment as they passed, but most people at the camp kept to themselves.
The sun’s rays continued their relentless attack, a force of nature that sapped their strength with every step. Sweat beaded on their brows, trickling down their faces, leaving faint, darker streaks on their now reddish skin. Aluel felt the heat radiating from the ground, seeping up through her boots and into her bones. She glanced at Akur, who kept her eyes fixed ahead, her jaw set in a grim line. Aluel clutched the staff tightly, its smooth wooden surface cool to the touch despite the sun’s glare.
The enclosure was a large, circular fence made from aluminum poles and fabric, offering a modicum of resistance to trespassers. Its makeshift wooden gates swayed slightly in the breeze. The half-hearted effort at repairs was depressing. They slipped inside, closing the gate behind them.
Some beasts were still in the enclosure, standing idle in their flocks—a clear sign of ownership. Their flock stood on one side, five in number, the smallest in the camp. Akur narrowed her eyes; good, the pouches were still there. From where they were standing, they could see the bulbous masses fruiting on the bodies of the beasts.
They walked over to the beasts. Aluel grasped the staff with both hands and with a practiced motion, she rotated the collar at the end of the staff. A satisfying click echoed in the still air of the enclosure, and a soft blue light blinked on. The beasts came online, their vast canopies stirring slightly.
“Okay, let’s go,” Akur ordered, her voice steady and commanding. She turned towards the gates. Aluel hurried to her side, clutching the staff tightly. A smile spread across her face as she gazed up at her sister.
Akur’s face, however, remained set with a cool apathy, her thoughts elsewhere. Aluel’s smile faltered, and she quickly averted her gaze, kicking the sand underfoot. Noticing, Akur glanced down at Aluel. With a gentle hand, she ruffled Aluel’s dark and dense hair. Aluel looked up, her eyes wide with hope. Akur offered a small, polite smile in return.
The shadow of the beasts’ canopies overshadowed them as they came to stand beside them. They strolled out of the enclosure, A low hum resonated as the metallic giants lumbered out of the enclosure beside their owners, their canopies forming a protective canopy overhead. In two segmented columns, the colossal forms marched forward, the fifth beast bringing up the rear. Just as they had been programmed. Akur and Aluel walked in their midst moving just fast enough to stay bathed in the shade.
They led them to the outskirts of the town, towards the crags and ridges finding their usual spot—a cluster of boulders small enough to climb on top of. The sisters climbed onto one of the boulders, Aluel, eager to take charge, raised the shepherd staff and turned the collar around it. It clicked twice, and she pointed it towards one of the canopy beasts. She gave the staff a deliberate shake. A soft chime emanated from within the selected beast, signaling its readiness.
With practiced motions, Aluel swung the staff to the left, indicating where she wanted the canopy beast to move. She shook the staff once more to confirm the directive, and the canopy beast began to lumber towards the indicated spot, its aluminum legs moving with a mechanical grace, it reached its designated location and stood still.
Aluel repeated the process with the remaining canopy beasts. She pointed to each beast in turn, shaking the staff to select and direct them. The beasts responded obediently, moving to form a ring around the sisters and the boulders.
The shade from the beasts’ wide canopies overlapped, creating a cool, shaded area that shielded them from the sun’s relentless rays. As the last beast moved into place, Aluel deselected it with a final shake of the staff. Aluel turned the collar, it clicked twice and the blue light went off. She cast a glance at her sister expectantly who had long ago finished laying down the mats and was lying on one of them, eyes closed, completely oblivious to Aluel’s progress.
The midday sun was now a bearable presence, the shade providing a much-needed respite from the heat. Aluel sat down on her mat hugging her knees a dejected look on her face.
“Good job,” Akur murmured. Aluel’s head swiveled to look at her, eyes wide a smile spreading across her face. Akur opened her eyes seeing her reaction, “Ugh!” she said as she tossed on her mat to look away from her sister who was beaming. Aluel’s head swiveled back, grinning.
“Hey, when can I get my phone back?” Akur inquired after a while.
Aluel frowned as if not understanding the question, “We just led the canopy beasts out. It will take at least the whole of the rest of the day.” Aluel responded. Akur let out an exasperated sigh, “I’m so bored.” She announced. She groaned as she sat up leaning back on her hands, scanning the horizon. She cast a glance at her sister who was still hugging her legs.
“I could really use some snow right now.” She mused. Aluel cast a glance at her, and Akur met her gaze.
“What do you miss the most about the city?” she asked.
“Hmm, Autie Friday,” Aluel responded.
“Hmm! Yeah, that makes sense,” Akur agreed, “But Didn’t Dad tell you not to go apprentice with her anymore?”
Aluel looked away pulling her knees even closer to her chest. Akur pressed on, “You could get her into trouble with Dad you know.” Aluel remained silent.
“Okay don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Akur added.
“Yeah well, at least I’m usually doing something useful with my time in Belt City, what are you usually doing?” Aluel snapped.
“That’s none of your business,” Akur snapped back.
“Then stay outta my business too!” Aluel yelled and went back to hugging her knees.
“Ugh, you’re just a child,” Akur remarked looking away from her.
Akur fumed silently, her emotions churning. The heat weighed heavily on her, amplifying her frustration. She glanced around the Venusian desert, feeling the stifling air start to thicken with the scent of dust. She tried to contain her irritation. She looked at her sister.
“Do you even know what’s out there? Do you even know anything beyond, the desert and Belt City? On Ember, people have parties that go on for weeks at a time. On Earth, there are people so rich, they have mansions that float on the oceans there. And what do you even know about Phobos and the asteroid belt?” She ranted, her voice rising with each sentence, the words spilling out like a torrent as Aluel perked up to listen.
“I don’t wanna just—” she trailed off, and kept silent her eyes welling up with tears.
“Don’t wanna just—what?” Aluel pressed.
“Forget it,” she spat and lay down on the mat with her back to her sister. Aluel frowned but didn’t press. She didn’t know any of the things her sister had just told her. All she knew was that Phobos was one of Mars’ former moons and the center of the mining colonies in the belt.
Her mind drifted to Autie Friday, of her canopy beast workshop and of the time they had shared there. Auntie Friday had never told her any of this. Was it really that important, what was so good about it that her sister wanted, or…didn’t want? She didn’t understand her.
Her gaze shifted to one of the canopy beasts, and she wondered why humans weren’t more like canopy beasts—simple.
Aluel sighed, laid back, and closed her eyes, enjoying the coolness, and before she knew it, sleep had claimed her.
As the sun began its descent, painting the Venusian sky with hues of orange and purple, Akur shook Aluel awake. “It’s time to go,” she said, her voice firm.
Aluel stirred, blinking away the remnants of sleep as she looked around, her eyes adjusting to the dimming light.
Akur held the shepherd staff in her hand and activated it. Slung over her shoulder was a knapsack along with the empty waterskin. The bag bulged with soap, washcloths, and a tightly sealed water bottle containing aloe vera gel.
“Come on, we need to get to the water before it gets too crowded.” Aluel rubbed her eyes and stood up, stretching her stiff limbs.
Together, the sisters led their canopy beasts towards the communal water area. The beasts moved obediently, their large canopies swaying slightly as they walked, providing a moving shield against the setting sun. Walking amid the beasts, the sisters led their flock to the water.
The communal water source was a rare oasis near the camp, a place where shrubs thrived in stark contrast to the struggling cacti that dotted the surrounding desert. Fed by a subterranean spring, the stream was clear, its surface reflecting the colors of the sunset.
Akur turned the collar of the shepherd staff, clicking twice, and directed the canopy beasts to encircle the area where they planned to bathe. Akur coordinated the canopy beasts to form a circle around them, a protective wall providing a semblance of privacy from prying eyes and additional shade. The beasts moved into position, their overlapping shadows creating a secluded space shaded from the evening sun.
Under the protective canopy of the beasts and the natural cover of the shrubs, Akur and Aluel undressed. They shed their dusty clothes, revealing the dark sheen of their skin, marked with patterns of dried ochre, and sweat. They stepped into the stream; the water was warm yet soothing against their sun-warmed bodies.
Aluel splashed her face, feeling the refreshing coldness invigorate her senses. She dipped her head under, letting the water flow through her hair and over her face, feeling the weight of the day’s dust and heat lift from her body. Akur focused on scrubbing the most stubborn patches of ochre from her skin, her fingers working methodically. Aluel dipped her hands into the stream, watching the ripples spread out and the red ochre dissolve, swirling in the current.
As the sisters stood together in the shallow stream, the canopy beasts’ protective circle around them, the camp seemed momentarily distant. For a brief time, amidst the soothing sounds of the stream and the rustling of the shrubbery, they found a measure of peace. The golden light of the setting sun bathing the landscape in its warm glow.
Aluel watched in fascination as the red ochre washed away, the water flowing downstream in vibrant swirls of red against the yellow-tinted ochre sands and the vibrant greenery of the surrounding shrubbery along the bank. She glanced at Akur, whose expression remained somber, her gaze fixed on the water with a familiar heaviness in her chest. To her, it had always looked like a river of blood.
Akur grabbed the soap from the bag and lathered up, before lathering her sister up as well. She dunked her head under the water, vigorously scrubbing her hair to rid it of the dust and grit that had accumulated throughout the day. She emerged, droplets of water clinging to her dark skin, and began to methodically wash each part of her body. She reached out and helped her sister scrub her back who repaid the favor in kind. They worked together in silence, the only sound the soft splashing of the water and the almost imperceptible hum of the canopy beasts.
After they finished bathing, they turned to washing their clothes. After soaping them they beat the garments against the rocks, working to remove stubborn stains. The sound of fabric slapping against stone echoed softly in the enclosed space blending with the gentle babble of the stream. Akur found a certain satisfaction in watching the dirt and grime dissipate with each strike. They rinsed the tiny bits of grit off and wrung them out.
Once the clothes were clean, they smeared aloe vera gel over their bodies. Akur reached into the knapsack, pulled out the water bottle, unscrewed it, and carefully poured a small amount of the gel into Aluel’s palm, before taking some for herself. The gel, cool and fragrant, provided a soothing balm for their sun-weary bodies, its refreshing scent mixing with the natural aromas of the desert evening.
They slipped into their wet clothes, knowing they would dry quickly in the desert air. The damp fabric was cool and comforting, a welcome relief. Together, they gathered their belongings and filled up their waterskin, the canopy beasts falling into line behind them as they made their way back to the camp.
The last rays of sunlight bathed the sands in a soft amber light, creating long shadows that stretched out like fingers reaching across the ground. Akur and Aluel walked side by side, their damp clothes clinging to their skin. The canopy beasts moved with gentle grace, their large flared tops providing a familiar canopy overhead. Their shadows danced across the sands, creating a mesmerizing pattern that seemed to ripple and flow with their movements.
As they neared the camp, the sounds of the evening began to fill the air. The soft murmur of conversations, the distant clatter of cooking pots. The setting sun bathed the camp in a warm, golden light, and for a moment, the harshness of their world felt a little less overwhelming. The camp was coming to life in the evening, a stark contrast to the stillness of the afternoon.
Akur and Aluel weaved through the camp as they made their way to their manyatta. They stopped once all the beasts were in the small yard. Akur gave the staff to Aluel, who stood patiently as her sister disappeared into the manyatta. Akur came back out holding two wooden bowls.
By this time, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, and the sky had transitioned to a faint lilac. The sugar pouches bulging out from the canopy beasts’ bodies had reached their fullness. They stood plump and inviting, protruding like ripe fruit.
Akur approached Charles. She plucked a swollen pouch with a swift twisting motion, feeling the slight give of its surface. She pulled back the pouch at its opening, the rich aroma of raw sugar filling the air as she revealed the sweet crystalline mass held within. She poured out the solid, bulbous orb into the wooden bowl she carried with her, the scent intensifying as it tumbled out.
The pouch, having yielded its sweet harvest, now awaited its return. It nestled back into the canopy beast’s front, guided by Akur’s gentle hands as it settled into its designated spot. With a touch, Akur secured it, where it merged seamlessly with the beast’s contours, reclaiming a natural part of itself. Like a small, obedient heart within the mechanical creature, the beast accepted its charge, completed with a careful press from Akur that sealed it snugly against its form—almost sighing as the pouch settled, ready to begin the cycle anew.
She moved to the back of the canopy beast, unlatched the cargo hold door, and lowered it before climbing inside. The scent of yeast, slightly tangy wafted through the air. The cargo hold was a cuboid space, with a plastic inner lining. This was the inside of the canopy beast's body. At the forefront of the cargo hold lay a raised structure enclosed. The back of the structure was embedded into the front of the cargo hold, where the yeast vat lay.
With a gentle tap of the shepherd staff, the structure unfolded, blooming like a flower at dawn. A mound of butter; soft and golden lay nestled inside. Akur plucked it out with a silica spatula, careful not to damage the villi-like structures lining its inner surface. The rich, creamy scent of butter filled the cargo hold as she slapped the butter onto the bowl, getting every last bit before waving the staff over the structure, enclosing it once more.
Her eyes darted to her phone, dangling from exposed wires near a control panel’s partially open hatch above the raised structure. She reached for it, pressing the power button to see the charge at seventy-two percent. She pulled it from Aluel’s makeshift charger and disembarked from the cargo hold with the sugar and butter.
“Hey, take this inside for me,” she said, handing the phone over to Aluel, who rushed it inside before coming back out.
Akur repeated the process with the remaining four canopy beasts. Harvesting each of their pouches and butter stores. Sending Aluel back to their manyatta with the wooden bowl in hand. Five sugar bulbs and a kilo and a half of butter.
With the day's harvest done, it was time to return the beasts to the enclosure. She moved past them as she made her way to the enclosure and they obediently lumbered forward. Drawn by the shepherd staff and responding to its silent call. Akur led the procession through the camp. The occasional laugh or shout of children playing sounded out in the warm twilight air.
Reaching the enclosure, she ushered the beasts inside, they flowed through the entrance, their movements slow and deliberate to let them settle down for the night before beginning her return to the manyatta.
As Akur secured the gate of the enclosure, she noticed a group of women moving purposefully towards the camp leader’s office. Their faces were set in grim determination, their brows furrowed and their lips pressed into thin lines. A chill ran down her spine despite the evening's lingering warmth and her eyebrows furrowed at the sight.
Her gaze shifted, catching sight of the camp guards going door-to-door her steps quickened, as she hurried back to their manyatta. She pushed open the door and immediately noticed Aluel sitting on the floor, her hands tucked beneath her legs.
Akur’s gaze lingered on her sister, narrowing slightly. “What did you do?” Akur asked her voice firm.
“I didn’t do anything,” Aluel responded a little too fast.
Akur forced her gaze from her sister. The extra kilo of butter from the canopy beasts, sat in the wooden bowl awaiting her. Akur needed to get it to the market to sell.
But first, she decided to check her phone for messages from her father or Meshack. He always texted her.
As she unlocked her phone, her heart sank. There were no notifications from her father or Meshack. Opening the messages app, Akur's eyes fell on a message from Meshack, but it had already been read. Her breath caught in her throat. A knot of suspicion tightened in her chest. She cast a sharp glance at Aluel, who was still looking down at the floor, still sitting on her hands. Her eyes widened and her face contorted with rage. She turned to face her sister, her voice trembling with anger.
"Aluel!" she shouted; fury etched into every line of her face. "Did you read my messages?" Her voice boomed. Aluel looked up her eyes wide in terror.
Aluel shook her head, trying to deny it. "Did you read my messages?" Akur bellowed, every muscle in her body taut with anger.
Aluel shook her head, her breaths coming in shallow, quick gasps.
"No," she whispered.
Akur's eyes narrowed. "No?" She repeated, taking another step forward, her presence growing more intimidating. "I have the messages right here," she screamed, thrusting her phone forward. "Did you read them?"
Aluel's fear grew, her breath quickening. "No," she stammered again, but her voice was weaker this time.
Akur took a step closer, her shadow looming over her younger sister. "Answer me!" she demanded, screaming. "Did you read my messages?"
Aluel nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Akur's lips pursed, her fists clenched, almost crushing her phone.
"Aluel," she cried out, exasperated.
As her rage flared hotter. She ran a trembling hand through her hair, pacing back and forth with frantic energy. "Why, Aluel? Why would you do that?" She bellowed.
Aluel's face crumpled as her tears spilled over, running down her cheeks. "You want to leave," she accused, her voice trembling with both fear and anger.
Akur stopped pacing "Aluel," Akur started, but her words faltered.
"You want to leave with Meshack. You want to leave me." Aluel cried.
Akur stood hands akimbo, her head shaking as she stared at the floor. What could she possibly say to make her sister understand?
"You don't understand, Aluel," she said, her voice breaking. She looked at her sister, trying to find the right words. "Sometimes, staying means losing yourself."
Aluel's face twisted in confusion and betrayal. "What does that even mean?" she demanded, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Akur took a deep breath, her eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and sorrow. "It means that every day I stay here and I feel like a part of me is dying. This place—it's like a cage it's suffocating Aluel. The same routines, the same struggles, day in and day out. I want more than just to survive Aluel. I want to live, to experience the world beyond these dunes."
Aluel's expression remained confused, but the anger was giving way to something more vulnerable. "But why can't you just be happy here, with us?"
"Because this place will never change Aluel," Akur struggled to find the right words, her mind racing. "Because I don't want to end up like Mom," she shouted back, her voice cracking. "Spending my life wandering around in the desert, following after Father. I don't want to die here, Aluel. I want a better life."
Aluel shook her head, devastated. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at her sister, a mixture of confusion and betrayal in her eyes. " You're leaving just like Dad always leaves," she whispered, her voice broken.
"Aluel, you wouldn't get it," she said finally, a chuckle of frustration escaping her lips. Akur's eyes blazed as she began to berate her sister. “You're just a child! You have no idea what's going on in this world, what I must deal with!"
The words stung Aluel, who recoiled as if she'd been slapped. She looked at her sister with wide, wounded eyes. Akur looked away and crossed the room. She picked up the extra butter and made her way to the door to leave for the market.
"I hate you!" Aluel shouted after her, her voice filled with anguish. " I wish Mom was here instead of you."
Akur stopped in her tracks. Her face contorted in rage. She turned back and rushed at Aluel who tried forcing herself back into the wall pressing her knees to her chest. Akur leaned in her index finger inches from Aluel’s face and roared, "You just be grateful that she died before she could CUT YOU… the way she CUT ME!" She staggered back reeling from the outburst, whizzing.
Aluel's eyes widened in shock and confusion. Akur stood there, breathing heavily, her emotions a turbulent storm. The weight of her words hung in the air. Tears streaked across Akur’s cheek. She gritted her teeth and wiped them away as she turned, leaving Aluel sitting rigidly on the floor, her eyes red and puffy from crying.
Akur closed the door behind her and stood there, her chest heaving with the remnants of their argument. Her grasp tightened around the wooden bowl and she stepped out into the small yard in front of their manyatta, her steps heavy with the weight of the evening's events.
Akur noticed the guard, a burly man with a stern expression, leaving their neighbor’s door. He turned as Akur approached, his eyes narrowing as he took in her tense demeanor.
"Wewe!" he said, his voice gravelly and tinged with weariness.
Akur paused, her fingers tightening around the rough edges of the wooden bowl. The smooth, cool butter contrasted with the heat radiating from the sunbaked earth beneath her feet.
"The camp leader wants to see all the women. There’s a meeting at the leader’s office." He said.
"I need to sell this butter at the market," Akur replied, her voice steady and laced with frustration.
The guard's expression softened slightly, lines of fatigue and concern etched into his weathered face. "The market will be there tomorrow. Enda!"
"Fine," she said finally, "I’ll go to the meeting."
She went off reluctantly, glancing back towards their manyatta. The wooden bowl of butter held firmly in her arms, she began making her way toward the camp leader’s office, each step resonating with the crunch of gravel and the whispers of the evening breeze.
The twilight air was warm and heavy, filled with the scents of dry earth. A cool breeze carried the faint cries of nocturnal creatures. She took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs and calming her racing heart. The soft, earthy smell of the butter mingled with the scents of night-blooming flowers and the distant tang of the desert.
The twilight deepened around her, and she glanced up at the sky. There, rising majestically above the horizon, was the crimson full moon of Venus. Ember with its reddish-orange hue bathed the landscape in its glow. The sight filling Akur with a mixture of awe and dread.
With a final, lingering glance at Ember, she continued on her way, the bowl of butter still clutched in her arms. Her pace steady, her mind racing with thoughts of the argument.
Akur walked into the courtyard in front of the camp leader’s office. The other women were already gathered, murmuring amongst themselves, their faces etched with worry and curiosity. The air was thick with dust and the scent of sweat. Their anxiety was palpable in every breath. As she joined the assembly, Akur's eyes were drawn to the front where the camp leader stood with his chief of guard and an unfamiliar man dressed in a sailor’s uniform.
"Nyamaza!" the camp leader bellowed, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a knife. The women's conversations ceased instantly, their wide eyes turning towards him.
"We’ve called you here because there are some important announcements you all need to hear."
He motioned to the man in the sailor’s uniform, who stepped forward, his throat clearing nervously.
"Hello, ladies... um... my name is Lado," he began, his voice wavering. "I’m a spokesperson from the company Stellar Winds. I’ve been sent down from Belt City to discuss some very important developments with you. First of all, I would like to express my gratitude for the hospitality I’ve received since arriving. Your camp is truly remarkable, and the dedication you all show to your community is inspiring. It reminds me of my own village back home, where my grandmother used to tell us stories of resilience and courage. The journey here was quite eventful, actually. Our skimmer had to navigate through a sandstorm, and I must say, the pilots were quite skilled. They managed to keep the skimmer steady despite the visibility dropping to almost nothing. The desert landscape is so vast and unforgiving, yet there's a certain beauty to it. Did you know that the sands of Venus have a unique composition, different from those on Earth? They have a higher concentration of silicates and metals, giving them that distinctive sheen under the sun. It’s truly fascinating—"
The camp leader abruptly pushed Lado aside, his face a mask of barely contained rage. "Your men are dead," he spat out, his words hanging heavy in the stifling air. "Desert raiders fell upon the Ionic Skimmer Zephyr. They overpowered the crew and seized the salt haul. The only ones to survive were a few of the crew... all the passengers were found dead." With that, he turned on his heel and stormed back to his office, the chief of guard following closely behind.
Lado lingered for a moment, his eyes darting over the crowd of widows the weight of his news seemed to crush him, and he quickly retreated after the camp leader. The courtyard fell into a heavy stillness, broken only by the gusts of wind that whipped around the women lifting the edges of their shukas and burkas and sending dust swirling into the air. The wind carrying the scent of the desert was dry and unforgiving.
A woman's sobs pierced the silence, a slight whimpering at first, but growing into a heart-wrenching wail as she sank to the sand, her body wracked with uncontrollable grief. The sound raw and painful.
The other women stood there, rooted to the spot, their faces pale and expressionless, eyes glazed. The camp night lights flashed on casting a yellow glow over the women, highlighting the lines of weariness and sorrow etched into their features and the dead stares on their faces.
Slowly, one by one, they began to leave, their movements slow and mechanical as if each step took all their strength. The soft shuffle of their feet on the sandy ground and the swish of their garments were the only sounds they made as they headed back to their manyattas.
Akur remained motionless, clutching her wooden bowl tightly, the cool wood grounding her amidst the chaos of her emotions. She stood there even as the grieving woman's cries continued to echo through the night, a haunting lament that continued on long after the other women had gone. The courtyard, once filled with the murmurs of anxious women, was now empty and quiet, save for the woman mourning in her grief and Akur’s motionless figure.
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