I dreamed I was home, in my lounge. 63 was sitting with me on the couch watching TV.
He was covered head to toe in horrific burns. His clothes were still smouldering as if he had been burnt only moments before.
He suddenly realised I was sitting next to him and began repeatedly shouting at me to get out, that this was his house.
I woke myself up out of fright.
The sun had not yet set. Someone was crouched in the entrance, pulling slowly on a half buried rope of braided denim that lead outside. I watched my silhouette pull in a large tray made of flattened tin-cans; on it lay several large flat-rocks.
I sat up, found my water bottle, and crawled around the sleeping bodies to the investigate the curious activity further; mostly to distract myself from the disturbing residue that remained of my dream.
It was 75.
He explained quietly that the meat was fried on the hot stones.
He was covered head to toe in horrific burns. His clothes were still smouldering as if he had been burnt only moments before.
He suddenly realised I was sitting next to him and began repeatedly shouting at me to get out, that this was his house.
I woke myself up out of fright.
The sun had not yet set. Someone was crouched in the entrance, pulling slowly on a half buried rope of braided denim that lead outside. I watched my silhouette pull in a large tray made of flattened tin-cans; on it lay several large flat-rocks.
I sat up, found my water bottle, and crawled around the sleeping bodies to the investigate the curious activity further; mostly to distract myself from the disturbing residue that remained of my dream.
It was 75.
He explained quietly that the meat was fried on the hot stones.
I had never seen anyone build a fire, and I realised that hadn't thought to how they cooked the meat, I merely said thanks and ate.
"The trees here are pretty much all charcoal through and through, anyway, we have no means of cutting kindling, or paper to spare in order to start a fire." He told me. "Lucky for us, the hot rocks do just fine."
As the meat cooked the others began to wake up.
Still too light to go outside, 100 and 101 helped in dividing up the food.
96 joined in shortly after. He tried to get a word in about his night of mapping, but 101 wouldn't have it.
"Unless you found a portal home, I don't want to hear about it." He said.
I realised with a lump in my throat, that it was 96's turn to go to the clearing tonight. He didn't seem worried at all. He was more focused on leaking details of his night-out when 101 had his back turned or was occupied in counting out the shares of food.
"The trees here are pretty much all charcoal through and through, anyway, we have no means of cutting kindling, or paper to spare in order to start a fire." He told me. "Lucky for us, the hot rocks do just fine."
As the meat cooked the others began to wake up.
Still too light to go outside, 100 and 101 helped in dividing up the food.
96 joined in shortly after. He tried to get a word in about his night of mapping, but 101 wouldn't have it.
"Unless you found a portal home, I don't want to hear about it." He said.
I realised with a lump in my throat, that it was 96's turn to go to the clearing tonight. He didn't seem worried at all. He was more focused on leaking details of his night-out when 101 had his back turned or was occupied in counting out the shares of food.
I made out I was interested; there was no knowing if he'd get another chance to talk about it or not. I tried to listen, but it was heartbreaking.
"The rock formations are unbelievable," he whispered to me, "so jagged and alien looking.. well, alien compared with Earth I mean; very much fitting to this place I suppose."
"The rock formations are unbelievable," he whispered to me, "so jagged and alien looking.. well, alien compared with Earth I mean; very much fitting to this place I suppose."
"Did you find a way through the pass?" I asked. "I remember 63 saying that's where you'd be going.."
"No, no it was all too steep a climb as far as I could see.. That reminds me; we need to start making rope!"
We
all filed outside to eat as the sunlight reddened. 67 had hurriedly
cleared the hot surface-sand away; it was obvious he was desperate to
prove his worth; an unspoken apology for the trouble he had caused the
night before.
The heat and glare of the sun lifted. From the depths of us came a great collective sigh, in the word's most vocalised, onomatopoeic form. It was followed by a collective chuckle as we all were tickled by the ridiculousness of it. But what was ridiculous was not that we were a sighing-choir of clones in the desert, that was a tragic. Ridiculous was how we had so easily forgotten that this was all far too absurd to be worth such despair..
As 75 put it on my first night, we can't help but be forever "building absolutes atop of absurdity". Ridiculous was the idea that the structured absolutes in our minds would hold true indefinitely and were ever worth our fearful, undying allegiance. There was hope in the absence of our forecasts and certainties; good was possible, even probable, that's all we needed to hear.
The awareness was too short a moment to bring about further thought or discussion, just long enough to muster laughter to solidify the memory; to store the grain of thought in our precious silos of truths, to await the day we learn a virtuous mixture and process, and may bake bread of life for ourselves.
Someone pointed out a moon in the sky when the glare had been completely chased away. It was crescent and pure white next to the darkening blue. I began a search for the other moons, but the sun quickly stole my attention away. It was as breathtakingly awful as the first time I witnessed it; maybe even more spectacular I think, as I was close to being totally convinced that what I was seeing was all very much real.
I squeezed a handful of sand in efforts to distract from the panic brought up by the solidification of reality. I tried to convince myself, halfheartedly at first, that this was a spectacle unlike any other had ever seen before; no being on Earth had ever witnessed anything like it. Surely, I had to appreciate that at least I told myself, surely there's some good in that.
I wondered if the idea of this being a unique and special experience was suppose to make me feel better or not; I felt even more alone. The people back home, living their lives as giants, they would never accept that this much power could ever exist and in such a massive display outside of themselves; they could never relate to how small I felt at that moment. I was alone in that; I alone had been allowed a glimpse at the true scale of infinity, and unveiled to me was a tiny slither of the galactic rule; where this sun, this planet and I lay. It was a horrifying comparison, but its was an offering of truth I was forced to accept as I was in plain sight of it.
I tried to comprehend the notion that the answers and truths, those which I most painfully yearned for, they would not necessarily make me feel better; more likely, they would make me feel even more lost and alone.
I thought about my life back on Earth as a fish-bowl I once believed so proudly to be the ocean. My Everests: the meager beginnings of ant-hills! If I had been fooled before, there was no knowing how much more existed above and beyond my comprehension, ever! Power beyond this monstrous sun? I was forced to shake the thought from my mind as it threatened to collapse in upon itself.
I looked around at the others for a distraction.
I overheard that it was 67's turn to go out mapping that night. I ate and listened-in on 63 quietly insisting that he didn't have to go if he didn't feel up to it.
I thought that perhaps I could be given the opportunity to opt out also, as my alien creation had been developing increasingly detailed features of late.
75 was speaking with 96, who now looking pale and afraid, had forgotten his night of mapping. Consumed by bloody thoughts of the clearing, he listened intently, nodding wildly.
Behind me, 103 was quietly rallying 100 and 101 to his cause of gaining access to the writings before 63 left with 96. All the while, 108 and 109 were both scanning the sky for the satellites, oblivious to anything else, including their food.
"There!" Said 109 pointing up.
We all watched as the bright speck flew overhead in a hurry and disappeared behind us.
The two other satellites were spotted enthusiastically by 108 soon after, who's only reward for the find was that one of them settled directly above; filling us all with the distinct feeling we were being watched.
"We have to leave soon 96." Said 63, interrupting 75's words of support mid sentence.
75 put his hand on 96's shoulder and said something; looking him in the eye to stress it's importance.
I overheard 63 repeatedly making sure that 67 knew he could remain at the shelter if he wanted.
"No, I'm OK." 67 reassured 63. "Anyway, it will be good to get away from the dunes."
63 stared at him, obviously trying to decide whether or not there signified something suicidal in his last statement.
He stood and asked 67 one last time if he was sure. He then ducked into the shelter quickly and after a moment, reappeared with the mask.
"Let's go." 63 said heartlessly as he passed where 96 sat.
"You're as ready as you'll ever be." 75 assured 96, shaking his shoulder. "See you soon."
96 nodded with a deep sigh, and followed 63 reluctantly into the night.
As soon as they were out of sight, the quietly scheming three behind me burst into treachery.
"It was your idea, not mine." Shrugged 100.
"After the way he shut me down last night? I needed one of you to say something to back me up! And where were you guys?" Said 103, betrayed.
"You didn't say anything about me asking for you. I would have supported you in it, but I wasn't gonna be your human shield, that wasn't the deal." Said 101, relieving himself of all blame.
"Great than, another night without any answers to anything." 103 said, throwing his arms up in in defeat.
They had 75 and 67's attention.
"What are you three going on about?" Asked 75.
"103 wanted us to ask for the writings for him, but he was too afraid to ask himself." Answered 101 quickly before 103 could speak.
"Too afraid?" Asked 103, sounding hurt, "All I wanted was a little support, that's all.."
"You want to read the writings so read them." Said 75 simply.
"Only 63 knows where they are.." I told him as the other three were arguing again.
75 looked to 67.
"He hid them? Is that true?" He asked.
67 looked at him full of guilt.
"63 thinks that there are too many unstable new-arrivals at the moment, so he thought it be best if he hid them, in case someone went crazy and destroyed them or.." 67 tried to explain.
"Did he tell you where he hid them?" Interrupted 75, seemingly calm.
"Well, no.. he.."
75 was up and running, down the dune to catch up with 63.
67 watched him run away and threw his face into his hands.
"I can't deal with this right now." He said, looking up from his hands, suddenly void of all emotion.
He then stood up and stumbled into the shelter.
We watched in confusion the dramatic shift of character, as he reappeared with his backpack and water with a new found glow, and headed down the dune.
"I'm mapping tonight, I'll be back. I promise." He called over his shoulder at us.
We looked to each other for an explanation.
"See you before sunrise!" He added, almost happily.
"Bye." Someone said.
We felt as if we pulled a trigger to something without really knowing what it did, and it turned out to be a warhead and not a
Christmas cracker.
"Ah, what the hell just happened?" Asked 109 to break the stunned silence that followed, torn from his comparably civil discussion with 108 about the stars.
75 returned after several minutes of worry.
He sat down, red faced and infuriated to match.
"What did he say?" Asked 103 impatiently.
"He'll get them for you when he gets back." He said, frustrated. "Power-hungry, thinks he knows it all.. The sun gave him first-degree burns, not a freakin' crown. I mean, where does he get his sense of ownership from? He didn't write them."
"Sorry to cause such a bother.." 103 began.
"No, no. It's not your fault." Insisted 75. "Its hardly worth the trouble; the writings are mostly gibberish anyway. It's just the principles, you know?"
"What do you mean they're mostly gibberish?" Asked 103 desperately. "They're the writings of sixty three days of doubles coming and going, aren't they? Before the collapse. All they had learned. Right?"
It was 75's turn to be taken aback.
"It's not an instruction manual, if that's what you mean.. who told you about the writings?" He asked.
"I don't remember, we talk about them sometimes. Nobody's seen them. I just thought.." 103 began.
"63 told us about them." Said 100.
"Yeah, he said they were from the order before the collapse so we just assumed they would be.. well, extensive." Said 101.
"It's just a collection of thoughts, by some who were here before the collapse." 75 admitted. "Some sane commentary, but mostly wildly insane, with a few lessons-learned, hidden between the lines."
He looked around at us, amazed we had built the writings up to such a high regard, without even reading them.
"I mean, there's some helpful things you can find here and there about how they had been mapping and using the stars, sure, but it's mostly the obsessive counting of sultanas and the seeds from the wholegrain bread.. and delirious accounts of killing.." He added.
"Do they say how they built the shelter?" I asked.
"No, see, they don't even mention the shelter." He said. "I'm afraid its not as extensive as you've been lead to believe."
He looked a 103, he was the most devastated out of all of us.
"Sorry to disappoint." He told him.
"I'd still like to read them." Said 103 flatly.
"Oh no, sure, everyone should." 75 agreed. "But, don't expect to find a way home in there. We're still looking for that you know."
He thought for a moment.
"The most helpful writings you could read are you're own. Have you guys been writing anything down?" He asked.
We all shook our heads.
"Well you should be, you all have pens." He said. "You have to limit what you write due to the lack of paper. But you can write alot in just a few words if you think about it long enough. And it's not like we don't have the time."
I remembered the horde of receipts in my backpack.
"Listen, we might find a way home tomorrow you never know. But until then, the only true understanding of what's going on here will come from measuring how much we're changing day to day. How much our views and ideas are changing along the way.. To look back on ourselves; to turn around and look down the hill you just scrambled up, you know? To see what you were like at the bottom. Otherwise we just find ourselves lost."
He looked around behind us, frowning, as he was reminded of something.
"Where's 67?" He asked.
"He went mapping." I replied.
"He seemed happy about it too, a little too happy if you know what I mean." Added 101. "But, he promised he'd be back. I think he was telling the truth."
"Hmm.." Was 75's only response, though he was obviously worried.
"What happened to him?" 109 asked, what we were all thinking. "Why does he seem so messed up? I mean, relatively speaking of course."
"I don't know.." He answered, thinking.
"Was he ever normal? I mean, you know.." 109 tried to elaborate.
"The night I appeared he seemed as normal as the rest." 75 replied after a sigh. "On my second night he went out mapping, I remember that. It was his first time mapping. I remember 63 was worried he wouldn't return, because 65 and 66 hadn't the night before; hence why 74 and I didn't have to fight our way into the order when we appeared, same as you 109, our attackers chose to cook themselves in the sun instead.. 63 was worried because his re-establishment of the order wasn't going well. Nobody would fight."
"But he did return." Said 109, stating the obvious, encouraging 75 to continue.
"That he did," answered 75, breaking from another memory, "and he was happy. I remember that clearly, I remember wondering how anyone could be happy given the circumstances. But he was. He was talking excitedly about the alien landscape beyond the dunes, and the thought of finding a way home.."
"What changed him?" I asked.
"His first fight, the night after," 75 told us finally, "he changed into the 67 we see now. He was completely broken by it. He never really recovered at all."
"Have you tried to talk to him about it? It seems like he's in physical pain all the time." Asked 100.
"I know, I've tried. But he never talks about his fights. He just locks up, or pretends he doesn't hear me." 75 replied helplessly.
He then thought for a long moment, looking up at the satellite.
"67 was the first to follow 63 down to the clearing," he said as if trying a different puzzle-piece, "I fear he has taken it upon himself to carry the burden for every kill that's been made since.. As if on that night he had given the order his own personal seal of approval, and, night by night, the added guilt would be slowly crushing him to death."
I decided then, I would refuse to fight the new arrival when it was my turn.
Somehow I would find a way around it.
I had to.
I had seen too much of my self in the broken shards of 67 to take the risk.
I was slowly beginning to understand that 67 was a wrecked me. Empathy was unavoidable in this world of doubles.
On my emergency channel, I could hear him crying mayday and pleading to all other vessels nearby to be aware of the hull tearing reef hidden beneath the surface of this order.
I had dipped my toe into the madness on my first day, I had tested those same waters. If I were to be totally submerged, I knew I would be eaten alive by the sharks that patrolled the depths; just as 67 was being consumed, I was certain I would be just as defenseless.
No, I couldn't risk it, because more than anything, I didn't want to die. But I especially didn't want to be forced burn myself to death in the sunshine as an alternative to insanity. Even though the majority of the group seemed to cope with killing well enough, I scared myself into believing I wouldn't.
I saw 67's symptoms as the result of a failed experiment; failed by the order's overly optimistic hypothesis that we could cope perfectly fine with murder coupled with the absurdities of this world.
I thought about the hundreds of deaths I was told had come before me, and wondered how many of them were related to suicide. I rubbed the back of my neck to Shake the thought, and tried to find some purpose to 67's pain, something that would promise his suffering had not been entirely in vein.
I came to realised that the failed experiment had succeeded in a small but significant way. It revealed a characteristic in 67 and, in-turn, a characteristic in all of us. A probability. We were all playing with a loaded gun. We were dancing around a trap set to spring, and spring it would when it came in contact with something heavy enough. We all had the potential to be driven mad by this order. We all would eventually step on the trap, and we all had the capacity to carry such a weight as to set it off.
But for choice.
No.
The survivalist in me, my most loyal Allie, couldn't allow me to fight, it wouldn't even let me consider it an option. It promised that killing would certainly be my own death in disguise.
I would just say no when the time came, I agreed. Someone else would do it for me. They would have to. There was no other alternative.
"How do you cope with it so well?" Someone asked 75.
"So well?" 75 asked doubtfully. "No, I don't cope well at all. I have my moments, believe me. But I guess I'm getting better at sneaking away to have them.." He admitted. "Being the third in line I have to appear strong I suppose. And someone needs to stand shoulder to shoulder with 63.."
"Yeah, what about 63?" 100 asked. "He comes back from his fights as if nothing happened; carrying groceries as if he just got back from a nice stroll down to the supermarket! I mean, have you ever seen him cry?"
"No." 75 answered with certainty. "But he's hurting too, surely. Beneath that char-grilled exterior, he just wants to get home, same as us. Maybe more than us."
We thought in silence for a while until 101 stood and searched the sky.
"No moons tonight?" He asked.
We all looked up and around for the answer. The moon I saw at sunset was gone.
"We really need to figure out a calender for these moons." 75 said.
100, 103, 101 and 75 left to get their paper-work on the matter. 108, 109 and I remained, feeling useless.
"You remember Joanne Klindworth's science project in third form?" 109 asked. "She made a model of the solar-system.."
"Yeah, that was cool." I said. "It made the planets move around the Sun using the mechanisms of clocks she had taken apart right?"
"Right." Said 108 remembering too. "But we don't have any clocks.."
"I know. But we need something like that, that's all I'm saying." 109 concluded. "We need a working model."
The others returned and 109 tried to pitch the idea, but the four with paperwork on the matter were already in thoughtful debate.
"Their.." 101 began, trying to remember the word 'orbit', he was moving his finger in circles around his other hand that was imitating holding a ball.
"Their orbit?" Said 100.
"Right, their orbit. Their orbits don't change do they? I mean, how could they?" Asked 101.
"What about when the seasons change, the planet tilts away from the sun right? Do the moons move with it when it tilts?" I asked, trying my best to be helpful.
"The planet doesn't move, well, it doesn't rock back and forth like on a rocking chair 112." Said 75. "I mean, it does, but only relative to the sun. It's just the angle of it's axis faces away or toward the sun depending on the time of year; where it is in it's orbit." 75 explained, trying to illustrate his explanation in the sand.
"Oh yeah. I remember now." I said.
"So, do their orbits change or not?" 101 asked again.
109 began to draw in the sand also.
"What if their orbits weren't perfectly circle?" 109 asked. "They would appear to move faster and slower depending on where they were in the eclipse wouldn't they?"
"Yeah, well, would that change where on the horizon they would rise and set though?" 101 asked.
"I don't know." 109 shrugged.
"The planet spins on it's axis at a different speed to how fast the moons are orbiting around it." Said 100. "Because, come night time, they're at different parts of the sky compared to the night before.."
"Yes, that's right." Said 101 frustrated. "But, if they rise and set at the same place on the horizon.. we can wait for a moon to rise, track its direction, and follow it's path through the sky each night. Then we can determine who is who up there and how long they'll be staying, right?"
"I'm sure it's more complicated than that.." Said 75. "But we should try it. It's a good start I think."
"What about waxing and waning? I forget which is which." 103 asked 75 quickly, before someone else could speak over him. "And speaking of seasons, does this planet have them? Wouldn't it be nice to have a rainy winter.."
At that 75 stared at the sand in sudden worry. He stood up and began to pace back and forth.
"If this planet has seasons.." He revealed finally. "Then, depending on how far north we are, we could very well be subjected to the long days and short nights some places on earth experience in the height of their summers.."
He looked at the northern star 63 had taught me about.
"It sits quite high in the sky.. If this planet has seasons, we might be in for a long, hot summer.. with.. complications." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"We wont be able to get to the clearing if the sun sets later and the daylight stretches out into the time the new-arrivals appear.. They'd be killed the instant they appear. And all the food will be burnt to ashes, aside from the canned food, maybe. Either way, it'd be disastrous."
We all understood and were thinking desperately for counter arguments.
"We don't even know how long the year is here. It could take a thousand Earth years for this planet to make an orbit, who knows?" Argued 109.
"Maybe we're already in summer.." Said 103.
"We can figure it out!" Announced 108. "If the day's are going to get longer we could tell if we timed the sun, rise to set, every day. We'll soon see if they're getting longer or shorter, if the rate in which it's changing is anything to worry about.."
"Is there anything in the writings that can help us?" 103 asked 75.
"Nothing about seasons, no." Answered 75. "I don't think anyone's ever considered it before, otherwise.. well.. Something this consequential would have been given a mention at least."
"I think we can all agree that 108's idea has merit." Said 101. "We should start timing as soon as the sun rises. We can take turns using the stopwatch on our phones each day."
"Agreed." We all said unanimously.
I remember feeling elated by the sense that questions were beginning to be answered. As threatening as the subjects were, it was the first time I felt I was really in control of my reason.
It was obvious in the way everyone was talking that we were all elated; by the productivity of the discussion, the liveliness and the equal input. Whether sitting, standing or alternating between the two in order to think, everyone was talking lively.
It was dark and moonless and the aurora didn't bring the same warmth the moons did, but our minds had sparked something that radiated a warmth around us that more than compensated.
"Your idea 101, to track the moons based on the direction they take through the sky from where they rise from the horizon. Unless someone's got another idea, we should try and think up a way we could track them, mark their movements somehow." Said 75. "Any ideas?"
"I was thinking someone could crouch or sit in a marked spot, maybe on one of the dunes next to ours." Announced 101, standing dramatically, pointing out into the dunes. "And if we drove sticks into the ground around them at specified times, two or three per night or something, so that the top of the stick is just under the moon, you know, as the person crouching sees it, we could track them that way."
"But after six moons, that's a lot of sticks. We'd end up building a fence around you." Said 100.
"We could designate a dune for each of the moons!" 108 suggested excitedly.
"Yeah!" Agreed 101, excited about where his idea was going.
"Yeah! Suck on that Joanne Klindworth!" Yelled 109 to mimic their enthusiasm.
The entire group exploded into laughter as everyone, including those who were not there for the prior discussion about the science project, immediately got the reference.
As the laughter died down I looked up at the satellite, unable to shake the feeling that it didn't like us laughing. It took me a moment to realise it was slowly moving. Just as I was about to tell the others, it suddenly shot off across the sky, heading west.
"Hey it's moving!" I shrieked.
We all stood as if to get a better look.
"Where do they think they're going?" 75 asked himself aloud as the satellite accelerated to impossible speeds toward the horizon.
"There's another one heading west over there!" Pointed 103. "What's going on? I've never seen them move around at this time of night. Have you 75?" 100 asked.
"There was a meteor shower a while back, that scared them off.." He replied, scanning the sky.
We were staring up at the stars and aurora in anticipation, when a bright streak of white light screamed across the sky like a lunge at a blackboard with a stick of chalk.
"Whoah! What was.." Someone managed to say.
Before he could finish, the sky was invaded by thousands of bright streaks of white.
"Holy shit!" Someone yelled over the gasps.
Suddenly everyone was cheering at the sky. The meteors had scared away the satellites; that immediately made it a home-team win to celebrate in our eyes.
It was beautiful. It was a relief. A weight was lifted. A weight I knew I was carrying, but hadn't realised just how heavy a load it was until it was gone. Without the satellite above, I felt light, and free.
Someone put their hand on my shoulder. I turned to see it was 75. The meteor attack was relentless. It released so much light that our faces glowed white. 75's face was glowing with a big smile.
"Ahhhh!!" He yelled to me over everyone's chatter.
"It's beautiful!" I yelled back at him.
We all sat to watch the parade of light for what seemed hours. Pointing out the bigger streaks with amazement.
Gradually, our faces grew dim and the meteors suspended their attack.
It was unusually dark as our eyes adjusted to the loss of the lights. But, as our sense of sight was impaired, our hearing was enhanced, enough to receive the distant voices approaching.
"But, if the universe is chaos.." We heard a voice say. "Why should I care about anything then; unless it concerns me getting home?"
"But you have to stay alive.." The other voice said.
96 had won his fight.
As the two approached I could see 96 was drained, but he was talking at least.
I couldn't imagine how he could have done it.
"Welcome back." Said 75, a welcome obviously for 96 exclusively.
96 and 75 shared a significant nod to one another before 63 asked of 67's whereabouts.
"He's still out mapping." Someone said.
"Did you catch the show?" 101 asked the two.
"The satellites don't seem to like them one bit." 63 replied with a rare smile.
96 made an obvious attempt at a smile, but fell short.
"I guess they haven't discovered force fields yet." 103 suggested jokingly.
"Good night then, was it?" 63 asked, sensing the good mood still lingering.
"We have had a good night actually." 75 replied simply. "We need to talk though. There's something we've neglected to consider.."
"Oh yeah?" He said with a smirk. "Well, shoot, I'm all ears.."
"You know what, you don't worry about it. I'm sure it's nothing.." Replied 75 as if he had a sudden change of heart. "We have it under control, I'm sure."
Unsure if he had won this round, 63 left with an uneasy look of self assurance.
96 sat down in a heap.
"What haven't we considered?" He asked, swallowing his emotions.
I felt the collective spirits of the group plummet as 96 reminded us all of the darkness, his hard reality became our own once again. It felt as if the lights had been turned out. The warmth was gone.
"We figured that if this place has seasons, then we might be in for a long summer.." 75 answered briefly. "But that's trivial. How are you, you alright?"
The answer was obvious.
"You hurt?" 75 reiterated quickly.
"No." 96 answered, looking down at the spots of blood on his tshirt. "It was quick. It was over pretty quickly."
He fought back emotion with a deep breath and held it.
"I don't think.." He exhaled, and broke down into tears. "I don't think he felt much pain."
He suddenly lost the will to hide his hurt.
The open display of emotion deeply effected us all, but 103 in particular, he cried too.
Halfheartedly and unconvincingly, we promised ourselves we would be alright, that we would be home soon.
67 returned, and unlike his usual self, chatted enthusiastically about the meteor shower to an unreceptive 63.
As the sky turned to peach all but 63 and 75 sunk into the shelter.
We sat down on the cold, and tried to make words out of the stern bass of their voices; the vowels that managed to infiltrated the sand covered tin-walls.
"..what makes you think you have the right?" One of the voices said. "You didn't write them. They're not yours to hide!"
"Fine!" The other said. "I can't get them now, I'll get them after the sun sets, is that alright?"
63 entered the shelter to find us all in silence, obviously listening, 100 and 101 simultaneously pretended to be looking in their backpacks.
"We nearly forgot!" Announced 108 to break the sustained awkward silence. "We'll use my stopwatch tonight." He said as he crawled out of opening.
We all left 75 to explain our plan to those uninformed, and joined 108 outside in the morning heat.
"Go!" We yelled collectively as the glare fell upon us and the sun's edge hit the backs of our eyes.
"I don't know if I even started the stopwatch, I can't see!" 108 laughed as we all stumbled back to the shelter's entrance half blinded.
I found my sleeping spot in the shelter next to 96. He was lying on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his head.
"Are you alright?" I whispered.
"No." He said through his arms.
I fell asleep trying to think of something helpful to say.
The heat and glare of the sun lifted. From the depths of us came a great collective sigh, in the word's most vocalised, onomatopoeic form. It was followed by a collective chuckle as we all were tickled by the ridiculousness of it. But what was ridiculous was not that we were a sighing-choir of clones in the desert, that was a tragic. Ridiculous was how we had so easily forgotten that this was all far too absurd to be worth such despair..
As 75 put it on my first night, we can't help but be forever "building absolutes atop of absurdity". Ridiculous was the idea that the structured absolutes in our minds would hold true indefinitely and were ever worth our fearful, undying allegiance. There was hope in the absence of our forecasts and certainties; good was possible, even probable, that's all we needed to hear.
The awareness was too short a moment to bring about further thought or discussion, just long enough to muster laughter to solidify the memory; to store the grain of thought in our precious silos of truths, to await the day we learn a virtuous mixture and process, and may bake bread of life for ourselves.
Someone pointed out a moon in the sky when the glare had been completely chased away. It was crescent and pure white next to the darkening blue. I began a search for the other moons, but the sun quickly stole my attention away. It was as breathtakingly awful as the first time I witnessed it; maybe even more spectacular I think, as I was close to being totally convinced that what I was seeing was all very much real.
I squeezed a handful of sand in efforts to distract from the panic brought up by the solidification of reality. I tried to convince myself, halfheartedly at first, that this was a spectacle unlike any other had ever seen before; no being on Earth had ever witnessed anything like it. Surely, I had to appreciate that at least I told myself, surely there's some good in that.
I wondered if the idea of this being a unique and special experience was suppose to make me feel better or not; I felt even more alone. The people back home, living their lives as giants, they would never accept that this much power could ever exist and in such a massive display outside of themselves; they could never relate to how small I felt at that moment. I was alone in that; I alone had been allowed a glimpse at the true scale of infinity, and unveiled to me was a tiny slither of the galactic rule; where this sun, this planet and I lay. It was a horrifying comparison, but its was an offering of truth I was forced to accept as I was in plain sight of it.
I tried to comprehend the notion that the answers and truths, those which I most painfully yearned for, they would not necessarily make me feel better; more likely, they would make me feel even more lost and alone.
I thought about my life back on Earth as a fish-bowl I once believed so proudly to be the ocean. My Everests: the meager beginnings of ant-hills! If I had been fooled before, there was no knowing how much more existed above and beyond my comprehension, ever! Power beyond this monstrous sun? I was forced to shake the thought from my mind as it threatened to collapse in upon itself.
I looked around at the others for a distraction.
I overheard that it was 67's turn to go out mapping that night. I ate and listened-in on 63 quietly insisting that he didn't have to go if he didn't feel up to it.
I thought that perhaps I could be given the opportunity to opt out also, as my alien creation had been developing increasingly detailed features of late.
75 was speaking with 96, who now looking pale and afraid, had forgotten his night of mapping. Consumed by bloody thoughts of the clearing, he listened intently, nodding wildly.
Behind me, 103 was quietly rallying 100 and 101 to his cause of gaining access to the writings before 63 left with 96. All the while, 108 and 109 were both scanning the sky for the satellites, oblivious to anything else, including their food.
"There!" Said 109 pointing up.
We all watched as the bright speck flew overhead in a hurry and disappeared behind us.
The two other satellites were spotted enthusiastically by 108 soon after, who's only reward for the find was that one of them settled directly above; filling us all with the distinct feeling we were being watched.
"We have to leave soon 96." Said 63, interrupting 75's words of support mid sentence.
75 put his hand on 96's shoulder and said something; looking him in the eye to stress it's importance.
I overheard 63 repeatedly making sure that 67 knew he could remain at the shelter if he wanted.
"No, I'm OK." 67 reassured 63. "Anyway, it will be good to get away from the dunes."
63 stared at him, obviously trying to decide whether or not there signified something suicidal in his last statement.
He stood and asked 67 one last time if he was sure. He then ducked into the shelter quickly and after a moment, reappeared with the mask.
"Let's go." 63 said heartlessly as he passed where 96 sat.
"You're as ready as you'll ever be." 75 assured 96, shaking his shoulder. "See you soon."
96 nodded with a deep sigh, and followed 63 reluctantly into the night.
As soon as they were out of sight, the quietly scheming three behind me burst into treachery.
"It was your idea, not mine." Shrugged 100.
"After the way he shut me down last night? I needed one of you to say something to back me up! And where were you guys?" Said 103, betrayed.
"You didn't say anything about me asking for you. I would have supported you in it, but I wasn't gonna be your human shield, that wasn't the deal." Said 101, relieving himself of all blame.
"Great than, another night without any answers to anything." 103 said, throwing his arms up in in defeat.
They had 75 and 67's attention.
"What are you three going on about?" Asked 75.
"103 wanted us to ask for the writings for him, but he was too afraid to ask himself." Answered 101 quickly before 103 could speak.
"Too afraid?" Asked 103, sounding hurt, "All I wanted was a little support, that's all.."
"You want to read the writings so read them." Said 75 simply.
"Only 63 knows where they are.." I told him as the other three were arguing again.
75 looked to 67.
"He hid them? Is that true?" He asked.
67 looked at him full of guilt.
"63 thinks that there are too many unstable new-arrivals at the moment, so he thought it be best if he hid them, in case someone went crazy and destroyed them or.." 67 tried to explain.
"Did he tell you where he hid them?" Interrupted 75, seemingly calm.
"Well, no.. he.."
75 was up and running, down the dune to catch up with 63.
67 watched him run away and threw his face into his hands.
"I can't deal with this right now." He said, looking up from his hands, suddenly void of all emotion.
He then stood up and stumbled into the shelter.
We watched in confusion the dramatic shift of character, as he reappeared with his backpack and water with a new found glow, and headed down the dune.
"I'm mapping tonight, I'll be back. I promise." He called over his shoulder at us.
We looked to each other for an explanation.
"See you before sunrise!" He added, almost happily.
"Bye." Someone said.
We felt as if we pulled a trigger to something without really knowing what it did, and it turned out to be a warhead and not a
Christmas cracker.
"Ah, what the hell just happened?" Asked 109 to break the stunned silence that followed, torn from his comparably civil discussion with 108 about the stars.
75 returned after several minutes of worry.
He sat down, red faced and infuriated to match.
"What did he say?" Asked 103 impatiently.
"He'll get them for you when he gets back." He said, frustrated. "Power-hungry, thinks he knows it all.. The sun gave him first-degree burns, not a freakin' crown. I mean, where does he get his sense of ownership from? He didn't write them."
"Sorry to cause such a bother.." 103 began.
"No, no. It's not your fault." Insisted 75. "Its hardly worth the trouble; the writings are mostly gibberish anyway. It's just the principles, you know?"
"What do you mean they're mostly gibberish?" Asked 103 desperately. "They're the writings of sixty three days of doubles coming and going, aren't they? Before the collapse. All they had learned. Right?"
It was 75's turn to be taken aback.
"It's not an instruction manual, if that's what you mean.. who told you about the writings?" He asked.
"I don't remember, we talk about them sometimes. Nobody's seen them. I just thought.." 103 began.
"63 told us about them." Said 100.
"Yeah, he said they were from the order before the collapse so we just assumed they would be.. well, extensive." Said 101.
"It's just a collection of thoughts, by some who were here before the collapse." 75 admitted. "Some sane commentary, but mostly wildly insane, with a few lessons-learned, hidden between the lines."
He looked around at us, amazed we had built the writings up to such a high regard, without even reading them.
"I mean, there's some helpful things you can find here and there about how they had been mapping and using the stars, sure, but it's mostly the obsessive counting of sultanas and the seeds from the wholegrain bread.. and delirious accounts of killing.." He added.
"Do they say how they built the shelter?" I asked.
"No, see, they don't even mention the shelter." He said. "I'm afraid its not as extensive as you've been lead to believe."
He looked a 103, he was the most devastated out of all of us.
"Sorry to disappoint." He told him.
"I'd still like to read them." Said 103 flatly.
"Oh no, sure, everyone should." 75 agreed. "But, don't expect to find a way home in there. We're still looking for that you know."
He thought for a moment.
"The most helpful writings you could read are you're own. Have you guys been writing anything down?" He asked.
We all shook our heads.
"Well you should be, you all have pens." He said. "You have to limit what you write due to the lack of paper. But you can write alot in just a few words if you think about it long enough. And it's not like we don't have the time."
I remembered the horde of receipts in my backpack.
"Listen, we might find a way home tomorrow you never know. But until then, the only true understanding of what's going on here will come from measuring how much we're changing day to day. How much our views and ideas are changing along the way.. To look back on ourselves; to turn around and look down the hill you just scrambled up, you know? To see what you were like at the bottom. Otherwise we just find ourselves lost."
He looked around behind us, frowning, as he was reminded of something.
"Where's 67?" He asked.
"He went mapping." I replied.
"He seemed happy about it too, a little too happy if you know what I mean." Added 101. "But, he promised he'd be back. I think he was telling the truth."
"Hmm.." Was 75's only response, though he was obviously worried.
"What happened to him?" 109 asked, what we were all thinking. "Why does he seem so messed up? I mean, relatively speaking of course."
"I don't know.." He answered, thinking.
"Was he ever normal? I mean, you know.." 109 tried to elaborate.
"The night I appeared he seemed as normal as the rest." 75 replied after a sigh. "On my second night he went out mapping, I remember that. It was his first time mapping. I remember 63 was worried he wouldn't return, because 65 and 66 hadn't the night before; hence why 74 and I didn't have to fight our way into the order when we appeared, same as you 109, our attackers chose to cook themselves in the sun instead.. 63 was worried because his re-establishment of the order wasn't going well. Nobody would fight."
"But he did return." Said 109, stating the obvious, encouraging 75 to continue.
"That he did," answered 75, breaking from another memory, "and he was happy. I remember that clearly, I remember wondering how anyone could be happy given the circumstances. But he was. He was talking excitedly about the alien landscape beyond the dunes, and the thought of finding a way home.."
"What changed him?" I asked.
"His first fight, the night after," 75 told us finally, "he changed into the 67 we see now. He was completely broken by it. He never really recovered at all."
"Have you tried to talk to him about it? It seems like he's in physical pain all the time." Asked 100.
"I know, I've tried. But he never talks about his fights. He just locks up, or pretends he doesn't hear me." 75 replied helplessly.
He then thought for a long moment, looking up at the satellite.
"67 was the first to follow 63 down to the clearing," he said as if trying a different puzzle-piece, "I fear he has taken it upon himself to carry the burden for every kill that's been made since.. As if on that night he had given the order his own personal seal of approval, and, night by night, the added guilt would be slowly crushing him to death."
I decided then, I would refuse to fight the new arrival when it was my turn.
Somehow I would find a way around it.
I had to.
I had seen too much of my self in the broken shards of 67 to take the risk.
I was slowly beginning to understand that 67 was a wrecked me. Empathy was unavoidable in this world of doubles.
On my emergency channel, I could hear him crying mayday and pleading to all other vessels nearby to be aware of the hull tearing reef hidden beneath the surface of this order.
I had dipped my toe into the madness on my first day, I had tested those same waters. If I were to be totally submerged, I knew I would be eaten alive by the sharks that patrolled the depths; just as 67 was being consumed, I was certain I would be just as defenseless.
No, I couldn't risk it, because more than anything, I didn't want to die. But I especially didn't want to be forced burn myself to death in the sunshine as an alternative to insanity. Even though the majority of the group seemed to cope with killing well enough, I scared myself into believing I wouldn't.
I saw 67's symptoms as the result of a failed experiment; failed by the order's overly optimistic hypothesis that we could cope perfectly fine with murder coupled with the absurdities of this world.
I thought about the hundreds of deaths I was told had come before me, and wondered how many of them were related to suicide. I rubbed the back of my neck to Shake the thought, and tried to find some purpose to 67's pain, something that would promise his suffering had not been entirely in vein.
I came to realised that the failed experiment had succeeded in a small but significant way. It revealed a characteristic in 67 and, in-turn, a characteristic in all of us. A probability. We were all playing with a loaded gun. We were dancing around a trap set to spring, and spring it would when it came in contact with something heavy enough. We all had the potential to be driven mad by this order. We all would eventually step on the trap, and we all had the capacity to carry such a weight as to set it off.
But for choice.
No.
The survivalist in me, my most loyal Allie, couldn't allow me to fight, it wouldn't even let me consider it an option. It promised that killing would certainly be my own death in disguise.
I would just say no when the time came, I agreed. Someone else would do it for me. They would have to. There was no other alternative.
"How do you cope with it so well?" Someone asked 75.
"So well?" 75 asked doubtfully. "No, I don't cope well at all. I have my moments, believe me. But I guess I'm getting better at sneaking away to have them.." He admitted. "Being the third in line I have to appear strong I suppose. And someone needs to stand shoulder to shoulder with 63.."
"Yeah, what about 63?" 100 asked. "He comes back from his fights as if nothing happened; carrying groceries as if he just got back from a nice stroll down to the supermarket! I mean, have you ever seen him cry?"
"No." 75 answered with certainty. "But he's hurting too, surely. Beneath that char-grilled exterior, he just wants to get home, same as us. Maybe more than us."
We thought in silence for a while until 101 stood and searched the sky.
"No moons tonight?" He asked.
We all looked up and around for the answer. The moon I saw at sunset was gone.
"We really need to figure out a calender for these moons." 75 said.
100, 103, 101 and 75 left to get their paper-work on the matter. 108, 109 and I remained, feeling useless.
"You remember Joanne Klindworth's science project in third form?" 109 asked. "She made a model of the solar-system.."
"Yeah, that was cool." I said. "It made the planets move around the Sun using the mechanisms of clocks she had taken apart right?"
"Right." Said 108 remembering too. "But we don't have any clocks.."
"I know. But we need something like that, that's all I'm saying." 109 concluded. "We need a working model."
The others returned and 109 tried to pitch the idea, but the four with paperwork on the matter were already in thoughtful debate.
"Their.." 101 began, trying to remember the word 'orbit', he was moving his finger in circles around his other hand that was imitating holding a ball.
"Their orbit?" Said 100.
"Right, their orbit. Their orbits don't change do they? I mean, how could they?" Asked 101.
"What about when the seasons change, the planet tilts away from the sun right? Do the moons move with it when it tilts?" I asked, trying my best to be helpful.
"The planet doesn't move, well, it doesn't rock back and forth like on a rocking chair 112." Said 75. "I mean, it does, but only relative to the sun. It's just the angle of it's axis faces away or toward the sun depending on the time of year; where it is in it's orbit." 75 explained, trying to illustrate his explanation in the sand.
"Oh yeah. I remember now." I said.
"So, do their orbits change or not?" 101 asked again.
109 began to draw in the sand also.
"What if their orbits weren't perfectly circle?" 109 asked. "They would appear to move faster and slower depending on where they were in the eclipse wouldn't they?"
"Yeah, well, would that change where on the horizon they would rise and set though?" 101 asked.
"I don't know." 109 shrugged.
"The planet spins on it's axis at a different speed to how fast the moons are orbiting around it." Said 100. "Because, come night time, they're at different parts of the sky compared to the night before.."
"Yes, that's right." Said 101 frustrated. "But, if they rise and set at the same place on the horizon.. we can wait for a moon to rise, track its direction, and follow it's path through the sky each night. Then we can determine who is who up there and how long they'll be staying, right?"
"I'm sure it's more complicated than that.." Said 75. "But we should try it. It's a good start I think."
"What about waxing and waning? I forget which is which." 103 asked 75 quickly, before someone else could speak over him. "And speaking of seasons, does this planet have them? Wouldn't it be nice to have a rainy winter.."
At that 75 stared at the sand in sudden worry. He stood up and began to pace back and forth.
"If this planet has seasons.." He revealed finally. "Then, depending on how far north we are, we could very well be subjected to the long days and short nights some places on earth experience in the height of their summers.."
He looked at the northern star 63 had taught me about.
"It sits quite high in the sky.. If this planet has seasons, we might be in for a long, hot summer.. with.. complications." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"We wont be able to get to the clearing if the sun sets later and the daylight stretches out into the time the new-arrivals appear.. They'd be killed the instant they appear. And all the food will be burnt to ashes, aside from the canned food, maybe. Either way, it'd be disastrous."
We all understood and were thinking desperately for counter arguments.
"We don't even know how long the year is here. It could take a thousand Earth years for this planet to make an orbit, who knows?" Argued 109.
"Maybe we're already in summer.." Said 103.
"We can figure it out!" Announced 108. "If the day's are going to get longer we could tell if we timed the sun, rise to set, every day. We'll soon see if they're getting longer or shorter, if the rate in which it's changing is anything to worry about.."
"Is there anything in the writings that can help us?" 103 asked 75.
"Nothing about seasons, no." Answered 75. "I don't think anyone's ever considered it before, otherwise.. well.. Something this consequential would have been given a mention at least."
"I think we can all agree that 108's idea has merit." Said 101. "We should start timing as soon as the sun rises. We can take turns using the stopwatch on our phones each day."
"Agreed." We all said unanimously.
I remember feeling elated by the sense that questions were beginning to be answered. As threatening as the subjects were, it was the first time I felt I was really in control of my reason.
It was obvious in the way everyone was talking that we were all elated; by the productivity of the discussion, the liveliness and the equal input. Whether sitting, standing or alternating between the two in order to think, everyone was talking lively.
It was dark and moonless and the aurora didn't bring the same warmth the moons did, but our minds had sparked something that radiated a warmth around us that more than compensated.
"Your idea 101, to track the moons based on the direction they take through the sky from where they rise from the horizon. Unless someone's got another idea, we should try and think up a way we could track them, mark their movements somehow." Said 75. "Any ideas?"
"I was thinking someone could crouch or sit in a marked spot, maybe on one of the dunes next to ours." Announced 101, standing dramatically, pointing out into the dunes. "And if we drove sticks into the ground around them at specified times, two or three per night or something, so that the top of the stick is just under the moon, you know, as the person crouching sees it, we could track them that way."
"But after six moons, that's a lot of sticks. We'd end up building a fence around you." Said 100.
"We could designate a dune for each of the moons!" 108 suggested excitedly.
"Yeah!" Agreed 101, excited about where his idea was going.
"Yeah! Suck on that Joanne Klindworth!" Yelled 109 to mimic their enthusiasm.
The entire group exploded into laughter as everyone, including those who were not there for the prior discussion about the science project, immediately got the reference.
As the laughter died down I looked up at the satellite, unable to shake the feeling that it didn't like us laughing. It took me a moment to realise it was slowly moving. Just as I was about to tell the others, it suddenly shot off across the sky, heading west.
"Hey it's moving!" I shrieked.
We all stood as if to get a better look.
"Where do they think they're going?" 75 asked himself aloud as the satellite accelerated to impossible speeds toward the horizon.
"There's another one heading west over there!" Pointed 103. "What's going on? I've never seen them move around at this time of night. Have you 75?" 100 asked.
"There was a meteor shower a while back, that scared them off.." He replied, scanning the sky.
We were staring up at the stars and aurora in anticipation, when a bright streak of white light screamed across the sky like a lunge at a blackboard with a stick of chalk.
"Whoah! What was.." Someone managed to say.
Before he could finish, the sky was invaded by thousands of bright streaks of white.
"Holy shit!" Someone yelled over the gasps.
Suddenly everyone was cheering at the sky. The meteors had scared away the satellites; that immediately made it a home-team win to celebrate in our eyes.
It was beautiful. It was a relief. A weight was lifted. A weight I knew I was carrying, but hadn't realised just how heavy a load it was until it was gone. Without the satellite above, I felt light, and free.
Someone put their hand on my shoulder. I turned to see it was 75. The meteor attack was relentless. It released so much light that our faces glowed white. 75's face was glowing with a big smile.
"Ahhhh!!" He yelled to me over everyone's chatter.
"It's beautiful!" I yelled back at him.
We all sat to watch the parade of light for what seemed hours. Pointing out the bigger streaks with amazement.
Gradually, our faces grew dim and the meteors suspended their attack.
It was unusually dark as our eyes adjusted to the loss of the lights. But, as our sense of sight was impaired, our hearing was enhanced, enough to receive the distant voices approaching.
"But, if the universe is chaos.." We heard a voice say. "Why should I care about anything then; unless it concerns me getting home?"
"But you have to stay alive.." The other voice said.
96 had won his fight.
As the two approached I could see 96 was drained, but he was talking at least.
I couldn't imagine how he could have done it.
"Welcome back." Said 75, a welcome obviously for 96 exclusively.
96 and 75 shared a significant nod to one another before 63 asked of 67's whereabouts.
"He's still out mapping." Someone said.
"Did you catch the show?" 101 asked the two.
"The satellites don't seem to like them one bit." 63 replied with a rare smile.
96 made an obvious attempt at a smile, but fell short.
"I guess they haven't discovered force fields yet." 103 suggested jokingly.
"Good night then, was it?" 63 asked, sensing the good mood still lingering.
"We have had a good night actually." 75 replied simply. "We need to talk though. There's something we've neglected to consider.."
"Oh yeah?" He said with a smirk. "Well, shoot, I'm all ears.."
"You know what, you don't worry about it. I'm sure it's nothing.." Replied 75 as if he had a sudden change of heart. "We have it under control, I'm sure."
Unsure if he had won this round, 63 left with an uneasy look of self assurance.
96 sat down in a heap.
"What haven't we considered?" He asked, swallowing his emotions.
I felt the collective spirits of the group plummet as 96 reminded us all of the darkness, his hard reality became our own once again. It felt as if the lights had been turned out. The warmth was gone.
"We figured that if this place has seasons, then we might be in for a long summer.." 75 answered briefly. "But that's trivial. How are you, you alright?"
The answer was obvious.
"You hurt?" 75 reiterated quickly.
"No." 96 answered, looking down at the spots of blood on his tshirt. "It was quick. It was over pretty quickly."
He fought back emotion with a deep breath and held it.
"I don't think.." He exhaled, and broke down into tears. "I don't think he felt much pain."
He suddenly lost the will to hide his hurt.
The open display of emotion deeply effected us all, but 103 in particular, he cried too.
Halfheartedly and unconvincingly, we promised ourselves we would be alright, that we would be home soon.
67 returned, and unlike his usual self, chatted enthusiastically about the meteor shower to an unreceptive 63.
As the sky turned to peach all but 63 and 75 sunk into the shelter.
We sat down on the cold, and tried to make words out of the stern bass of their voices; the vowels that managed to infiltrated the sand covered tin-walls.
"..what makes you think you have the right?" One of the voices said. "You didn't write them. They're not yours to hide!"
"Fine!" The other said. "I can't get them now, I'll get them after the sun sets, is that alright?"
63 entered the shelter to find us all in silence, obviously listening, 100 and 101 simultaneously pretended to be looking in their backpacks.
"We nearly forgot!" Announced 108 to break the sustained awkward silence. "We'll use my stopwatch tonight." He said as he crawled out of opening.
We all left 75 to explain our plan to those uninformed, and joined 108 outside in the morning heat.
"Go!" We yelled collectively as the glare fell upon us and the sun's edge hit the backs of our eyes.
"I don't know if I even started the stopwatch, I can't see!" 108 laughed as we all stumbled back to the shelter's entrance half blinded.
I found my sleeping spot in the shelter next to 96. He was lying on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his head.
"Are you alright?" I whispered.
"No." He said through his arms.
I fell asleep trying to think of something helpful to say.
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