Cloud Atlas

Yibber what I telled you, an’ ruin me, any time you want. She’ll b’lief you an’ so she should ’cos it’s true ev’ry word an’ folks’ll b’lief you ’cos they sense my soul is stoned. Now if you got any Smart, yay, anythin’ what may help Catkin now, give it me, tell it me, do it. No un’ll ever, ever know, nay, I vow it, jus’ you an’ me.

Meronym placed her hands on her head like it boomed up with woe an’ she mumbed to herself sumthin’ like If my pres’dent ever finded out, my hole faculty’d be disbandied, yay, times was she used hole flocks o’ words what I din’t know. From a lidless jar in her gearbag she got out a tiny small-as-an-ant-egg turquoise stone an’ telled me to sneak it into Catkin’s mouth so slywise no un seen, nay, nor even thinked they seen. An’ for Sonmi’s sake, Meronym warned me, if Catkin lives, an’ I ain’t promisin’ she will, make sure the herb’list gets the hooray-hooray for healin’ her, not that voodoo snake-oilster from Hilo, yay?

So I took that turquoise med’sun an’ thanked her jus’ once. Meronym said, Don’t mention no words, not now an’ never while I’m livin’, an’ that promise I kept tight. Into my presh sis’s mouth I dropped it as I changed her sop-cloth, like Meronym’d telled me, so no un saw nothin’. An’ what happ’ned?

Three days later Catkin was back learnin’ in the school’ry, yay.

Three days! Well, I stopped lookin’ for ev’dence that Prescients was spyin’ to slave us. Leary from Hilo crowed to the toads on the roads an’ the hole wide world, no healer was greater ’n he, not even the Prescients, tho’ folks mostly b’liefed Wimoway’d done it, yay, not him.

Coneys ’n’ roasted taro we was eatin’ one supper ’bout a moon after Catkin’s sick when Meronym made a s’prisin’ ’nouncement. She meant to climb up Mauna Kea b’fore the Ship returned, she said, for to see what she’d see. Ma speaked first, ’ready worrysome. What for, Sis Meronym? Ain’t nothin’ up Mauna Kea but never-endin’ winter an’ a big heap o’ rocks.

Now Ma’d not said what we was all thinkin’ ’cos she din’t want to look barb’ric ’n’ savage, but Sussy din’t hold back none. Aunt Mero, if you go up there Old Georgie’ll freeze you an’ dig out your soul with a cruel ’n’ crookit spoony an’ eat it so you’ll never even be reborned an’ your body’ll be turned into a frostbited boulder. You want to stay here in the Valleys, where it’s safe.

Meronym din’t mick Sussy none, she jus’ said Prescients’d got Smart what’d ward Old Georgie away. Climbin’ Mauna Kea was ne’ssary to map Windward, she said, an’ anyhow, Valleysmen needed more lowdown on Kona movements over Leeward ’n’ Waimea Town. Now time was, such words’d o’ roused my s’picions buzzin’, but I din’t think that now, nay, tho’ I was diresome worried for our guest. Well, the yibber was busy for days when this news jumped out. The Shipwoman’s climbin’ Mauna Kea! Folks dropped by warnin’ Meronym not to go pokin’ her nose into OG’s ’closure or she’d never come back down. Even Napes visited, sayin’ climbin’ Mauna Kea in a story was one thing, doin’ it for real was cracked ’n’ crazed. Abbess said Meronym could come ’n’ go where she pleased, but she’d not say-so no un to guide Meronym up, jus’ too unknowed ’n’ risky that summit was, three days up ’n’ three more down, an’ dingos ’n’ Kona ’n’ Sonmi knows what on the way, an’ anyhow prep’ration for the Honokaa barterin’ was needin’ all hands in the dwellin’s.

Now I s’prised ev’ryun, yay, me too, when I settled to go with her. I weren’t known as the bravest-balled bullock in the barn. So why’d I done it? Simple ’nuff. One, I owed Meronym for Catkin. Two, my soul was ’ready half stoned, yay, surefire I’d not get rebirthed, so what’d I got to lose? Better if Old Georgie ate my soul ’n someun else’s who’d get rebirthed else, yay? That ain’t brave, nay, it’s jus’ sense. Ma din’t act pleased, a busy ’nuff time in the Valleys ’cos o’ harvest comin ’n’ all, but come the dawn Meronym ’n’ me set off she gived me journey-grinds what she’d smoked ’n’ brined an’ said Pa’d o’ prouded to see me so growed ’n’ gutsy. Jonas gived me a spesh sharp ’n’ fine rockfish spiker, an’ Sussy gived amulets o’ pearlshell to dazzle ’n’ blind Georgie’s eye if he chased us. Kobbery my cuz was over to minder my goats, he gived a bag o’ raisins from his fam’ly’s vines. Catkin was last, she gived me a kiss an’ Meronym too, an’ made us both promise we’d be back in six days.

Eastly o’ Sloosha’s we din’t climb the Kuikuihaele Track, nay, we trekked inland southly up Waiulili Stream, an’ I cogged the clearin’ by Hiilawe Falls where I’d s’prised the Kona what killed Pa five–six years b’fore. Overgrown now it was, jus’ traces o’ bygone campfires scorchin’ the middle. In Hiilawe Pool’s shallows I spikered a couple o’ rockfish with Jonas’s gift, to last out our grinds. Rain fell so the Waiulili Stream gushed too fierce for footin’, so we bushwhacked up thru sugarcane, yay, a hard half day’s goin’ it was till we cleared the Kohala Ridge; the windy open made us gasp an’ thru riftin’ clouds we seen Mauna Kea higher ’n the sky, yay. Now I seen Mauna Kea from Honokaa b’fore, o’ course, but a mountain you’re plannin’ on climbin’ ain’t the same as the one you ain’t. It ain’t so pretty, nay. Hush ’nuff an’ you’ll hear it. The cane thinned to tind’ry pines an’ we got to Old Uns’ Waimea Way. Sev’ral miles ’long this ancient ’n’ cracked road we clopped till we met a fur trapper an’ his laughin’ doggy restin’ by a slopin’ pond. Old Yanagi was his name an’ he’d got mukelung so bad by ’n’ by Young Yanagi’d be takin’ over the fam’ly bis’ness, I thinked. We said we was herb’lists sivvyin’ for presh plants an’ maybe Yanagi b’liefed us an’ maybe he din’t, but he bartered us fungusdo’ for rockfish an’ warned us Waimea Town weren’t so friendsome as it’d been once, nay, Kona say-soed ’n’ knucklied ficklewise an’ you cudn’t guess their b’havin’s.

A mile or so eastly o’ Waimea Town we heard shod hoofs cloppin’ an’ we dived off the track in the nick b’fore three Kona fighters on black stal’yons an’ their horse boy on a pony galloped by Hate ’n’ fear quaked me an’ I wanted to kill ’em like prawns on a skewer, but slower ’n that. The boy I thought may o’ been Adam, but I always thinked that ’bout young Kona, they was wearin’ helms so I cudn’t see too sure, nay. We din’t speak much from then ’cos speakin’ can be heard by spyers what you can’t spy. Southly thru shrubby heath we tromped now till we got to wideway. Wideway I’d heard o’ from storymen an’ here it was, an open, long, flat o’ roadstone. Saplin’s ’n’ bush was musclin’ up, but wondersome ’n’ wild was that windy space. Meronym said it was named Air Port in Old Uns’ tongue, where their flyin’ boats’d anchor down, yay, like wild geese on the Pololu Marshes. We din’t cross wideway, nay, we skirted it, there wasn’t no cover see.

By sundown we tented up in a cactusy hollow, an’ when it was dark ’nuff I lit us a fire. Lornsome I felt to be away from my Valleys ’n’ kin, but in that no-man’s-land Meronym’s mask was slippin’ an’ I was seein’ her more clear ’n I’d ever done b’fore. I asked her straight, What’s it like, the Hole World, the offlands over the ocean?

Her mask’d not slipped right off tho’. What d’you reck’n?

So I telled her my ’maginin’s o’ places from old books ’n’ pics in the school’ry. Lands where the Fall’d never falled, towns bigger ’n all o’ Big I, an’ towers o’ stars ’n’ suns blazin’ higher ’n Mauna Kea, bays of not jus’ one Prescient Ship but a mil’yun, Smart boxes what make delish grinds more ’n anyun can eat, Smart pipes what gush more brew ’n anyun can drink, places where it’s always spring an’ no sick, no knucklyin’ an’ no slavin’. Places where ev’ryun’s a beautsome purebirth who lives to be one hun’erd ’n’ fifty years.

Meronym pulled her blanky tighter. My parents an’ their gen’ration b’liefed, somewhere, hole cities o’ Old Uns s’vived the Fall b’yonder the oceans, jus’ like you, Zachry. Old-time names haunted their ’maginin’s .?.?. Melbun, Orkland, Jo’burg, Buenas Yerbs, Mumbay, Sing’pore. The Shipwoman was teachin’ me what no Valleysman’d ever heard, an’ I list’ned tight ’n’ wordless. Fin’ly, five decades after my people’s landin’ at Prescience, we relaunched the Ship what bringed us there. Dingos howled in the far-far ’bout folks soon to die, I prayed Sonmi it weren’t us. They finded the cities where the old maps promised, dead-rubble cities, jungle-choked cities, plague-rotted cities, but never a sign o’ them livin’ cities o’ their yearnin’s. We Prescients din’t b’lief our weak flame o’ Civ’lize was now the brightest in the Hole World, an’ further an’ further we sailed year by year, but we din’t find no flame brighter. So lornsome we felt. Such a presh burden for two thousand pairs o’ hands! I vow it, there ain’t more ’n sev’ral places in Hole World what got the Smart o’ the Nine Valleys.

Anxin ’n’ proudful at one time hearin’ them words made me, like a pa, an’ like she an’ me weren’t so diff’rent as a god an’ a worshiper, nay.

Second day fluffsome clouds rabbited westly an’ that snaky leeward sun was hissin’ loud ’n’ hot. We drank like whales from icy ’n’ sooty brooks. Higher to cooler air we climbed till no mozzie pricked us no more. Stunty ’n’ dry woods was crossed by swathes o’ black ’n’ razory lava spitted ’n’ spewed by Mauna Kea. Snailysome goin’ was them rockfields, yay, jus’ brush that rock light an’ your fingers’d bleed fast ’n’ wetly, so I binded my boots ’n’ hands in strips o’ hide-bark an’ did the same for Meronym. Blisters scabbed her foots, her soles’d not got my goat tuff see,