In the first tunnel she entered, she encountered a crowd of workers descending for the start of their shifts. She deferred to their numbers and climbed along the matted ceiling, trying to exhibit an uncomplicated purposefulness with her gait even as she struggled to keep her footing. The tangle of vegetation seemed imbued with malice; among the crops at the edge the same weeds would be proliferating luxuriantly in the unfiltered wind, and she would not be there to keep them in check. Five of her team-mates passed her below, oblivious to her presence. She was alone and useless; no wonder she was invisible to them.
Taking a rest, and walking into an ambush. Zak was probably just the healthiest member of his team, the only one who still possessed enough strength to travel deep into the garm quarter. Once Roi arrived in his territory all the others would float around her, weakened and deformed by their countless shifts of weightlessness, ready to induct her into their deranged schemes.
The crowd below her thinned, but the anxieties and self-accusations kept coming.
The tunnel led into a chamber that was almost empty, except for a group of children playing with their tutors. Roi kept her distance, still feeling guilty and tainted, not wanting to infect these young minds with her treachery. Listening to their exuberant shouts, though, began to lift her spirits. Everyone remembered stumbling into a team like this: their first ever recruitment. She now knew that hatchlings rarely spent more than eight or nine shifts wandering and grazing alone before finding a group of willing tutors, but in her memory it was as if an eternity of desperate searching had preceded that first moment of fulfillment.
Watching the children mimicking pointless, stylized poses and movements for the sheer joy of acting in unison, Roi began to feel, paradoxically, more at ease with her own truancy. The simple truth was that there would always be a team somewhere that would welcome her. She fervently hoped that she would return safely to tend the crops again, but whatever changes her journey wrought, the sight of these contented infants seemed like a promise that there would always be a place for her in the world.
The chamber opened into a larger space, where susk and murche were grazing. The adult susk were about half Roi’s size, with a general body shape very much like a person’s, each male having six ordinary limbs while the females carried an extra, shorter pair for mating. From certain angles they looked eerily like children. They even made a range of plaintive sounds, scraping their limbs against the underside of their carapace just like an inconsolable child. The murche, in contrast, were barely the size of Roi’s claws, and swarmed around the field on twelve busy legs. If the crops ever failed, Roi decided, she would have no qualms about eating them.
Herders moved quietly among the flock, gently encouraging them to graze on the plants that people found least palatable. Roi had heard it claimed that the best herders controlled the susk by a process akin to recruitment. The murche ate what they pleased, but fortunately that included susk droppings.
The ground here was tiered, rising up in small steps along countless jagged edges. To Roi it looked as if one large, continuous sheet of rock had come crashing down, with pieces breaking off the edge where it collided at an angle with whatever lay beneath it. The marks of this kind of violence could be found everywhere, but Roi had never seen the ground fall. If the Splinter really had been torn from a larger world—and if weight had always grown with distance—that world might have encompassed more powerful forces than any to be found in the present.
If all of this was true, though, how had that mother world itself come to be? That was the trouble with any question about the history of things: how could you ever reach an end to it?
The wind was brisk, but it blew from behind her as she climbed the steps of the field. The light from the rock ahead of her was a gentle glow; she was leaving the raw intensity of the garm-sharq edge behind.
Roi had grown hungry, so she surveyed the area ahead of her for food, and finally settled on a solid patch of kahu to munch on. As she ate, two of the herders approached, unaccompanied by any susk.
“To your life and strength,” each bid her encouragingly.
“And yours.” Roi watched them warily as they ate beside her. If they wanted a new team-mate, she was outnumbered and surrounded, with nowhere to run.
“What do you do?” one of the herders inquired.
“I tend the crops at the edge.”
“Valuable work.”
“As is yours.”
“Where are you headed?” the other asked.
“To the Calm.”
“That’s a long journey.”
Roi said, “I need to spend a few shifts seeing the world. It will make me a better worker.”
Both herders chewed on this in silence for a while.
“Travel safely,” said the first, moving away, firing a pellet of faeces deftly into a clump of weeds.
“Thank you.”
The second herder lingered. “Work is what makes better workers,” he opined.
“Perhaps,” Roi replied.
He rasped disapproval, but followed his team-mate.
Upon leaving the field, Roi came across a series of chambers where teams worked to render susk carcasses into a variety of products. The soft skin that lined the internal cavities made an ideal surface on which to write and draw. The hard cuticle of the carapace was tough and durable, but when soaked in plant extracts it could be softened enough to work into different shapes. Some inner organs were edible, and Roi saw a couple of workers consuming them fresh from the carcass, but most were dissolved and processed into inks and paints, glues and resins, specialized plant foods, medicines, and an assortment of unappealing liquids and powders and gums whose purpose she didn’t feel inclined to inquire about.
The end result of Roi’s labor spread naturally throughout the garmside as seeds on the wind, but these products required teams dedicated to their transport. As she passed the processing chambers, Roi saw couriers coming and going, traveling in twos or threes depending on the size of their load. Roi introduced herself to one pair, Zud and Sia, who were hauling a cart packed with diverse products that had been ordered by a depot almost halfway to the Calm.
“How long will it take you to make the delivery?” Roi asked. Despite their burden, they were easily matching her pace as they ascended a steep tunnel.
“The cargo will be there in two shifts,” Zud replied, “but we won’t take it all the way ourselves. Our highest depot is less than one shift away; we only work between there and the edge.”
“We’re used to the range of weights,” Sia added. “It’s easier than trying to work everywhere.”
Roi felt no sense of threat from this pair; their team-mates were widely scattered, and given the nature of their work it seemed likely that they encountered travelers far too often to treat them all as potential recruits.
She asked them what news they’d heard from the Calm.
“The food supply’s been low,” Sia said.
“But the reservoir’s healthy,” Roi protested.
“Perhaps there’s an excess of mouths,” Zud suggested. “Though we’re bringing them a remedy for that.” It took a moment before Roi realized what he meant; as well as susk products, they were carrying a stack of contraceptive leaves. The plant that produced them was a variety that could only grow in a strong, nutrient-rich wind. Since she was traveling downwind as well as up into the Calm, she was heading for the most barren part of the Splinter. She should stock up next time she had the chance.
“Any other news?” she asked. “No word of new work teams?”
“New teams?” Zud sounded baffled.
Roi couldn’t think of an easy way to characterize the notion of a team of which Zak might be a member. “Doing new jobs. Jobs you’d never heard of before.”
Without breaking his pace, Zud diverted three legs to a drumbeat of amusement. “Jobs I’d never heard of? Jobs someone made up from thin air?”
In the face of such mirth from a team-mate, Roi’s habit was to retreat graciously into silence, but in her new role as a traveler she felt emboldened. “Do you think every job we do now always existed?”
“They’re all necessary,” Sia said. “If there ever was a time when they weren’t being done, it would have been
