Air (or Have Not Have)

She lifted up her head. The sound came from all around the house, as if the hills were a theatre thronged with people. She got up and, half asleep, stepped out her front door.

Bam.

Mae was shaking with terror and up to her thighs in mud in her own courtyard. She was wringing with sweat and panic. Mud and water were pouring through the open gate. Part of her had to pause to check: Yes, this is my house, my house in a flood.

Everything else in her danced – fingers, knees, bladder. For some reason her first thought was for Ken Kuei's mother.

Somehow this Mae was carrying a flashlight. She shone light across the courtyard at the battened windows and the closed doorway. Mae had to fight through the mud towards Mr Ken's house. The mud was a heavy, slow evil, and there were sharp rocks inside it. What… when?

Flood, said a voice. It was Old Mrs Tung.

Mae could see shelves of water moving over the surface of the mud, each one a millimetre deeper than the last.

I told you there would be a flood.

'Mrs Ken!' Mae called again. If there were no one left in the old house, she would run. Where was Mr Ken? Where was anyone?

Behind her, outside, she heard the entire hillside move.

'The terraces are going!' Mae screeched.

Then she dropped back again, to some version of now. Sweat trickled from her, and she knew she had seen the future.

The Flood was coming again.

CHAPTER 10

Sunni hired a minibus with rows of seats to take her customers to Green Valley City.

Mae was in her terraces working and saw the van drive out of the village. It stopped on the road below her.

Mae's eyes were sharp. So were Sunni's. Sunni leaned out of the window and stared up at Mae over the top of sunglasses. Sunni's hair was perfect under a blue scarf. She said something. Inside the van, Mrs Ali looked around Sunni to see Madam Owl at work in her fields. Mrs Nan, Miss Ping… all peered up at her.

This is stupid, thought Mae. She keeps trying to poop on me in such tiny ways.

Mae grinned and smiled and waved as if at friends. She felt like turning and pointing her arse at them. Did they really take such delight in knowing that she had to work?

Mrs Ali said something and patted Sunni on the shoulder. Having exposed Madam Death as a mere peasant, the van of the other party drove off towards the City.

Mae found she really didn't care. She chuckled and went back to work. Her hills were beautiful.

Her husband had found work; whatever happened, she would have some kind of business; her school was a success. Joe would come home, and then, perhaps like childbirth or mourning, the thing with Mr Ken would have to end.

The rice whispered in the wind as it had done for two thousand years. At times the world seemed good and at peace and happy. Mae knew this was only a respite, for life was a constant struggle. Bird eats worm, bird has its eggs, and those eggs are eaten. The rice is beautiful and then cut down. People melt into the earth while yearning for the sky.

In the afternoon, Mae taught her school. At sunset, walking home from teaching the children, Mae saw a van come jostling up Lower Street.

Oh, this is Sunni's circus, she thought. Well, I can wave just as prettily again.

The van squealed to a halt at the tight corner. The driver did not know the road. The sunset light made everything look golden, but his van actually was a beautiful flaked metallic gold.

'Excuse me,' said the driver. Balshang face, Balshang accent. 'Can you tell me where lives Mr Wing?'

Mae thought quickly. 'Yes, indeed, but it will be easier if I show you. May I?'

The man's face did not change. For a moment, he was silent, and then said, 'Please.' He pushed open the door for her.

The back of the van was jammed with tools, books, a suitcase, and a hastily rolled-up blue tent. The metal pegs had earth jammed into their grooves.

He asked her, 'How soon to harvest here?' He was young – very young indeed, to own such a fine van. He was incredibly skinny. The biggest thing about him was his hair: young, thick, springy, and forced under a hat. It was a completely useless hat. It was soft and khaki-green and had no brim. It would not keep off the sun, but it would make the head hot. He wore tiny glasses and smiled benignly. There was a gentle air about him that made Mae want to warn him: Be careful where you choose to sleep alone in that tent.

'It is just under a month,' said Mae. 'The men will be back soon.'

'They try to find work. Ah,' he said. His mouth jerked in a strange downward motion.

The van revved up the sudden steep slope towards Mr Wing's house. 'Why – is there a problem with work?' Mae asked.

'Huh,' said the man. It was a kind of a laugh. 'Haven't you heard?'

'We get no news up here,' said Mae.

'Ho. Just that there is none. The entire country is moving, looking for work.'

He eased the van into Mr Wing's courtyard. Dashboard lights flashed and he flipped something off and swung himself out of the van. Mae followed. He stood, hands on hips, regarding the house.

'These old mountain houses are very fine,' he said. 'It is lovely to be so cool. Mr Wing keeps his television outside?'

'That is so the village can use it. I teach on it.'

He turned. He was very young, but with a crease down either side of his mouth that only skinny men get. 'What do you teach?'

'How to use the TV. What Air will be like. I call it Swallow School. So people can fly in the Air.'

'Hmm,' he said. 'What's your name?'

'Mae,' she said.

'No,' he said. 'Your full name.' He paused. 'I'm from the government.' He seemed to think this would reassure her.

Mae did not answer. 'There is Mrs Wing.'

Kwan was coming down her steps, a question on her face.

'He's from the government,' warned Mae, wincing.

'Mrs Wing? Is your husband here?' the man asked.

'My husband is visiting his many farms, to see how things progress,' said Kwan.

'I…' he began and thought better of it. I did not expect an Eloi, is what he wanted to say. 'I am from the Central Bureau of Information Technology,' he announced. 'We are very concerned to see how the Test went.'

Kwan maintained a faultless exterior. 'That was some months ago.'

'Yes. There are many villages. I am visiting them all, to inspect the damage, and to help prepare people for what is coming next year.'

'We are doing that for ourselves,' said Mrs Kwan. She inclined her head towards Mae. 'Mae has been helping us all.'

'So I hear,' said the Central Man. He beamed and nodded approval. 'It is not so in other places.'

'It is so here,' said Kwan.

'Good. And your TV. It works well?'

'Oh, very well,' said Kwan, not sounding like herself at all. Her smile stiffened and her eyes glistened with meaning at Mae. She wants him away from her TV, thought Mae.