Air (or Have Not Have)

Air temperature: 7.0298°C

Air temperature with chill factor: 5.25°C

Temperature of snow on surface: 2.7°C

Temperature of snow at base: – 1.8°C

Temperature of runoff: 2.9°C

The village is all blue, like a memory. Every morning, I hear voices when I wake up, the children wailing, their mothers crying. It is the Flood. If I am not careful I fall into Air and I am there with it. So it is good to come out here, Weather Talent on my night patrol. The cold roots me in the Now. The Flood will come, this year or next, whatever. Ah!

This is the worst bit, right down into the muck. Maybe I find an onion left behind. Something for the pot. Soil Temperature: -1.7°C

I can really feel these stones, these terraces. They want to roll, they want to roll down and flatten us. At least all this is solid. Info keeps me sane.

There has always been a flood washing us all away.

Indeed, Mrs Tung, my dear, indeed.

The Flood

Look across the valley. On the Mirror hill, you will see what is left of the village of Aynalar (Mirrors). It is a mirror for you.

In 1959, the whole hillside was wiped away in one night by a flash flood when all the snow melted too fast. Once, the terraces of Aynalar were rich and fertile. It was on the sunny slope of the valley and Kizuldah was the poor cousin, in shade. Now Aynalar is a heap of rocks. This happened during a winter of high snowfall and hot temperatures. This winter is another mirror, a mirror of that winter.

You have seen me. Every morning and every evening I go and measure snow. Three times a day I measure many things, temperature and wind and strength of sunlight through cloud. I am in touch with many government offices to calculate Info.

So far we are okay. It will need to be hotter than even 1959 for the flood to come here.

You will know the flood is coming if the Dragon's Breath happens in winter.

See these pictures? They show our village if the water melts. It shows how deep the water will get, and where you should go.

Don't go to the school. Big rocks will roll down from the terraces there and it could get buried. Everyone should get to Mr Wing's house. It is highest on an outcrop of stone. Those in the valley, like you, Mr Han, move your seed grain now; there won't be time when the Flood comes.

Move things into your lofts. If all else fails, if the Flood comes, get onto your roofs.

I will tell you the situation every day.

Madam Chung Mae

____________________

audio file from: Mrs Chung Mae

28 January

Whooooooooooooo, Mr Tunch! That is the sound of my breath, blowing you away. Everything in Air is eternal, no? So I ask myself, How can we make the imprints? How can we change something that is eternal? Nothing new can happen there. So I think if we are in Air at all, we have always been there. These imprints you make of us have always been there. And then I think: So how do I get back to Mrs Tung's life? When I saw the Flood that destroyed the village of Aynalar, I was really there. The water was icy, I swallowed mud, I felt my child – I mean, Mrs Tung's – snatched away from me by the water. I was in Mrs Tung's life. Sometimes I look up over Kizuldah and I see great floating balloons, or hotels that do not exist, and I am not crazy. I am simply seeing the future through my Airself. I nip in and out of time like a mite living in a sponge. I just go through the holes.

Ah, but then, guess what else I have found, with my nipping? Everything lives in Air, Mr Tunch. Everything is in our balloon world and in Air at once. That means stones, flowers, and birds. And floods and funerals. That means everything is eternal, Mr Tunch. That means we have always had Airselves. If we live in Air at all, then we have always lived there, from the beginning. We have always been able to sometimes see the future or the past. We have always been able to make tiny miracles. Any child knows that. Many women do. It seem that only great big gangsters do not. Everything has always been and has always happened all at once. Which means nothing causes anything else. Which means stories only happen in this poor balloon-world of ours. Stories have no meaning. Nothing can be interpreted. Everything just is, without meaning, without needing your philosophy and your science or all our miseries and myths and tales and explanations. It is all just one big smiling Now. Whooooooooooooooooo. That is the sound of Air, blowing.

CHAPTER 21

Mae came back from her morning weather Talent patrol and found Kwan and Sunni sitting at her kitchen table.

The house was chilly, the brazier burnt-out. Siao was out selling Info services.

'Good morning, ladies,' said Mae, pleased to see her friends.

'Good morning, Mae,' said Kwan, her hands steepled on the table. Sunni nodded, eyes averted.

Kwan asked, 'How long have you been out?'

'Oh. For two hours now.'

'When did you go to bed?' Kwan asked.

'Oh, I had a lot of mail. You see, we tell all customers to be patient with us, for we are snowbound and cannot ship until after March. Some of them find that interesting and write, and I try to answer.'

Kwan held up yesterday's leaflet. 'Did you run out the weather reports, then, too?'

Mae was unwinding her scarf. 'Oh! No. I do that now, in the mornings before the Circle. I would offer you tea, but I have drunk all my winter stock.'

They didn't want tea. Mae sat down with them and began to wonder why they were there.

'Did you really tell Mrs Pin that you know there will be a Flood because you have been to the future?'

Kwan's face looked burnished like wood: hard.

'Not in those words. But yes.'

Kwan and Sunni looked at each other. Sunni asked, 'Do you really believe that?'

Mae found herself adopting a fortified position, feet braced on the earthen floor. 'When you have been in Air for a while, you will see it is true. Air is forever, in both directions. Forward and back.'

Kwan drew in a breath, and said, 'You are saying that you have actually been into the future and stood in the coming Flood here in Kizuldah.'

'I have been in my future life. I suddenly find myself in my future life. Sometimes it is in the Flood. There will be a flood and that is why I warn people.'

Kwan uncrumpled the leaflet in her hand and read it again. 'Mae. We want you to stop worrying people.'

Sunni picked up the thread. 'It is foolish, people are bored with it. They say: 'If this is what working with Info does, then let Mae drive herself crazy with it. We will leave it alone.' '

Kwan finished: 'It hurts progress, Mae.'

Sunni sighed. 'As your friends, we are going to ask you to stop.'

No, no, no. These were her friends; this was a simple misunderstanding. Mae began to explain. The Flood. 1959. Temperature and snow. She stood up, got out her printouts, all elevation lines, and water flow. It was hard, practical stuff.

Kwan chuckled in exasperation. 'Honestly, Mae, if you do this one more time to me, I will scream! I have heard