All were quiet when the howling storm had ceased and the night in slumber. The Anemone, released from their duty and labor, had retired to their quarters. The moon, a sorry imitation of the grand sun that had now dropped back from the veil of night, graced the now easy and languid activities on the deserted decks. It was almost soundless now, save the creaking of broken planks hanging over shattered sections of the hull. The watch stood a solemn vigil on the dismasted deck. They collected debris of battle, swept the tarnished planks, and arranged a great host of cinder blocks and white sheets at the waist. In the morning there would be a great ceremony for the fallen. Grief would flow freely then, but for now, the crew took their deserved rest.
At that time, I was positively spent. I craved sleep. My exerted limbs cried for it, yet my thoughts refused to be still. Since the prolonged combat I had been disturbed, messed with, and no longer myself. Everything was queer as if I had wandered to another world. All this was not mine. All this flying, combating, and musing over existential matters had naught to do with me. Give me the tar jar, the caulking ball, thoughtless watches and dreamless nights. Demand me not things I could not give. Undo it, return me to who I was. And if that was impossible, release me from thoughts, cast me dumb and uncaring like a pig - tiny mind tied to the manger, not all these troubling ruminations.
Only one single person on this ship could answer those pleas, so I sought her.
In the slave cabin, where until last night my berth had been, I could not find her. The azures told me she was away, looking for me, perhaps. So I dragged my feet some more across the vast ship, seized by dark thoughts, so close to complete exhaustion. Midships, the absent mast bore a prominent, apocalyptic gap in the sail plan. All the more I felt as though I walked in a dream. Dream I had. And I shuddered to think it had yet to end.
My feverish quest came to a brooding conclusion at a forlorn gangway leading astern on the quarterdeck’s starboard side. This was one of the passages the forecastle women and slaves use to reach the stern without entering the unauthorized decks. It basked in the moonlight now. And someone was there, leaning over the gunwale. Her hair tied neatly at her waist, and she was clean, no trace of ash and a day’s work sweat on her smooth white skin.
I started her without meaning to, so absorbed was she in thoughts and stars. She beheld me in awe, and brought her hand to my face, touched it, blemishing her skin with my grimy sweat.
“I asked for you,” she muttered, “they would not say a thing, save that the Anemone is at rest. But look: you’re here, and not a ghost.”
Again, I felt her quivering soft flesh pressing on mine. The tight embrace drained me of bodily strength, but gave me something else in return. My chest ached. And my eyes stung.
“What’s wrong?” she drew away with a start, staring at my face as if something pitiable stuck there.
“I don’t know.” I said the first thing in my mind, “I hugged Lizia like so today. I don’t know.”
All those wild thoughts had winded me. Already so spent and confused the moment I found myself in her familiar embrace, the dam broke, and all that had been contained sailed far beyond my grasp.
She let go of me. “You did? And? You look queer. Star, did she do something to you?”
I don’t know. I repeated.
“I saw things, Thea. The past. The memories of this body. Before my birth, I mean. There was a person alone on an airship, whose parents and friends and home I saw. There were all these strange lands and strange stars and… Her…everything. As though in me someone was alive, and I mean really alive, not only vividly, but almost tangibly; she was there. All her deep feelings and secret thoughts – I could feel it all. I could see and feel how she would think of this ship, of our lives, of you, of everyone, but not the way I do. It was as though I could conjure her in my place to live right now, right here. And she would have different thoughts, different impressions, and would find many things queer where I would not. Very, very much so. It is all just so, so…”
Only when Thea seized my shoulders did I realize my body was shaking.
“Stop!” she cried with sudden distress, “you stop that! Star—you are Star. You are not that person, whatever she was, do you hear? She is dead and you are here. You are not her and will never be her! You are just confused, tired! I know who you are, and so does everyone else. None would think of that girl you spoke of when they see you. Ah, what you spoke of was only memories! But memories and stray thoughts without bearing on your present. But echoes and useless noises!
“But, oh, to the Under with it all! Should the world turn down a dark path, and even you yourself forgot, I would remember still, so long that I was myself. I would remember it all. And if I must, why, for every waking hour, I would remind you of yourself. So don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t worry. You are not that girl! Don’t think, stop thinking!” There she fell into a seeming panic. Her first, if it was true, in all the time I had known her.
“Alright,” I told her, “I shall stop thinking. Alright, I will. Alright…”
“It’s just that…” beyond my control, my voice broke again, and then my legs buckled. I collapsed. The plank wall hit my back, and I sprawled on the floor.
“It is just that,” I gasped for air, “I know all that you said is true. But it is then, if I am not her, then who am I? An azure, I know, I know, I know, but… so what? What does being an azure entail? That I am empty is something I’d ever known and comprehended. But knowing is not like seeing. How terrible it was to see with your own eyes what it’s really like.
“You see. For I have naught that she had, and never will. She had a life. That girl had thoughts, you know. Like how she despised the pig pen behind her old house, that smelly place at the back of her kitchen. Always she had a keener sense than most. And how she had liked to sit at a window, any window at all, when it’s raining. For the wind would carry the scent from all the lands and all the waters to her through tiny droplets. And she had this fondness for wild roses that she would press any she found between the pages of her diary—seven of those she had written to half, but never filled to the last page… and there’s the ranches, the creatures… all of that, don’t you see, Thea? What do I have in place of it, Thea? Nothing. No, I am not human like her. But then what am I? What in the Under is us azures? What is me? We do not have those likes and hates, you know. We do not suffer. You never do, Thea, you never do, human though you are, but I can see the seeds of it, or the lingering suffering in you. Which I had not, now or ever!
“Today I hugged Lizia and she was in pain. Then I felt her pain directly in me when we took flight. It was so very real, so profoundly real. More real than aught I have ever felt or understood in all my life. But life?” I let out a strange sound. “I think I am a fake, Thea. None of what I do really matters, because I don’t have life. Because I don’t exist as you do, or as Lizia does, or as that girl did. I just do, I mean, I exist, and that’s it. I am no more than this damn plank or this damn ship, driven like an object across this sky, never to touch land. Because that is true. That is all I have and ever shall be. I shall never be her. I shall always be me. So do not comfort me so, Thea. It hurt. It hurts a lot when you say I will always be me. That me is nothing, but a big nothing! Nothing!”
Thea was holding me, and my hot tears soiled her hands. In her eyes, I saw that she had been deeply hurt.
“I know not what your problem is,” she said, “I do not understand. And I do not care. So why should you? Is it not enough that we are us? But if you care so much, then you will heed me, for I know better, and ever you trust in my judgment more than your own. I assure you, so take my word, I would that you do! I have been in this world for longer than you, I have been in many places, and I have seen much, and met other azures. You are not like you say or all that emptiness drivels at all, even as I am not, though it was true for me in the beginning. I know for I have seen many. Don’t you know, not only azures but many humans are even as you say, having no sorrow or happiness, likings or hatings. Empty creatures without a thing worthwhile in their hearts and brains. But you are not them. Please trust me, trust me. I have seen you grow bored, or take a liking to a constellation over the others, or how you praised my songs and my cakes, and you can sympathize and even be selfish at times, though you may deny it. All of that is true. If you have no emotions, you wouldn’t be crying right now, would you not? You would not have grieved so without inner feelings. I think all that they say, all that you say, of azures are a lie. Because some humans are so, while some azures are not. Think, Star, think clearly, I would that you think!”
“You really think so?” My voice was hoarse.
“Why would I not? I hate you so much. All this time… you think I am the one with feelings and sufferings, and you are not? But that is wrong. For it is I… Nay, let us not talk about it right now... But know that it was you who saved me. And save me you did. Why then must I care for some bygone suffering that could hardly be called such? That is such a silly thing to say! And you yourself are so unbearably silly!”
I did not know. It could very well be that she was merely attempting to cheer me up. Mayhap another lie even as the one I had told Litzia. She was the kind who would lie to make people happy. I knew. And yet I wanted desperately to believe her. It meant the world to me, for the falsehood of which would shatter mine and more.
How funny it was. I was here, my face in her hands, clinging to Thea’s pity to feel alive. It was but the reverse of Litzia and I this morning. The one who’d pitied was now pitied.
“Are you calm now?” she asked.
“I think.” But what of her? There had been a stark pallor on her face for a bit now. And if not for my own shaking, I might have sensed the tremor in her touch also. But I would stay for her. For myself also. For as long as the night lasted. Who would blame us for it, after the things we had gone through on this dreadful day?
But against my wistful hope, at that moment, a plank nearby groaned. We jerked our heads up like a thieving pair of cats in the night, but there was not a soul in sight.
“Be good,” said Thea, “go back and get some sleep.” Then she rose, my hand in hers. Something crossed her mind, then, “Oh, I forgot you wouldn’t sleep in our cabin anymore.”
“Right,” I said, “I will stay with Litzia from now on.” I had never thought I would, but before I knew it, I had come to miss the slave’s cabin already.
“Wherever it may be, you must sleep,” she said, “you look half-dead, and half elsewhere.”
I nodded. “Tomorrow I will see you.”
Instead of going fore, I went aft towards the stern, whence the sudden sound had come, which puzzled Thea, but she bade me good-bye and departed.
The moon was bright then, so at once as I turned the corner, I saw the person responsible for the breaking of our quietude. Funny, it was here once that I had stumbled upon her also. Litzia was leaning against the wall, near the spot she once sat with Begonia resting on her lap. While flattening herself against it, she sent her sight beyond the taffrail.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she said.
But she had.
“Well,” I sighed, suddenly ashamed, “I was silly back there, do not make aught of it.”
“You think I would judge you for that?” Litzia raised her eyebrow, as though hurt.
“You would not?”
“You try my patience, sister.”
“May I ask you a question then?”
“I am weary. Save it for tomorrow. We shall decide then,” she dismissed it and parted with the walls, setting to leave.
“Only one question.”
Litzia looked long at me, then nodded.
“What did you do back there? Was it you who roused the sun?”
“Nay,” she shook her head. “That was Aurora. I merely did what you told me to. I tried to call out for her. Though I was of the mind that none would hear. I was desperate to get it out there, and I did. It was her entire. If I played a part in that… thing, Aurora had the greater share.” Suddenly she sighed, her voice grew thin, floating in the gentle tailwind. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
My role was to be a liar. So a liar I shall be.
All were quiet when the howling storm had ceased and the night in slumber. The Anemone, released from their duty and labor, had retired to their quarters. The moon, a sorry imitation of the grand sun that had now dropped back from the veil of night, graced the now easy and languid activities on the deserted decks. It was almost soundless now, save the creaking of broken planks hanging over shattered sections of the hull. The watch stood a solemn vigil on the dismasted deck. They collected debris of battle, swept the tarnished planks, and arranged a great host of cinder blocks and white sheets at the waist. In the morning there would be a great ceremony for the fallen. Grief would flow freely then, but for now, the crew took their deserved rest.
At that time, I was positively spent. I craved sleep. My exerted limbs cried for it, yet my thoughts refused to be still. Since the prolonged combat I had been disturbed, messed with, and no longer myself. Everything was queer as if I had wandered to another world. All this was not mine. All this flying, combating, and musing over existential matters had naught to do with me. Give me the tar jar, the caulking ball, thoughtless watches and dreamless nights. Demand me not things I could not give. Undo it, return me to who I was. And if that was impossible, release me from thoughts, cast me dumb and uncaring like a pig - tiny mind tied to the manger, not all these troubling ruminations.
Only one single person on this ship could answer those pleas, so I sought her.
In the slave cabin, where until last night my berth had been, I could not find her. The azures told me she was away, looking for me, perhaps. So I dragged my feet some more across the vast ship, seized by dark thoughts, so close to complete exhaustion. Midships, the absent mast bore a prominent, apocalyptic gap in the sail plan. All the more I felt as though I walked in a dream. Dream I had. And I shuddered to think it had yet to end.
My feverish quest came to a brooding conclusion at a forlorn gangway leading astern on the quarterdeck’s starboard side. This was one of the passages the forecastle women and slaves use to reach the stern without entering the unauthorized decks. It basked in the moonlight now. And someone was there, leaning over the gunwale. Her hair tied neatly at her waist, and she was clean, no trace of ash and a day’s work sweat on her smooth white skin.
I started her without meaning to, so absorbed was she in thoughts and stars. She beheld me in awe, and brought her hand to my face, touched it, blemishing her skin with my grimy sweat.
“I asked for you,” she muttered, “they would not say a thing, save that the Anemone is at rest. But look: you’re here, and not a ghost.”
Again, I felt her quivering soft flesh pressing on mine. The tight embrace drained me of bodily strength, but gave me something else in return. My chest ached. And my eyes stung.
“What’s wrong?” she drew away with a start, staring at my face as if something pitiable stuck there.
“I don’t know.” I said the first thing in my mind, “I hugged Lizia like so today. I don’t know.”
All those wild thoughts had winded me. Already so spent and confused the moment I found myself in her familiar embrace, the dam broke, and all that had been contained sailed far beyond my grasp.
She let go of me. “You did? And? You look queer. Star, did she do something to you?”
I don’t know. I repeated.
“I saw things, Thea. The past. The memories of this body. Before my birth, I mean. There was a person alone on an airship, whose parents and friends and home I saw. There were all these strange lands and strange stars and… Her…everything. As though in me someone was alive, and I mean really alive, not only vividly, but almost tangibly; she was there. All her deep feelings and secret thoughts – I could feel it all. I could see and feel how she would think of this ship, of our lives, of you, of everyone, but not the way I do. It was as though I could conjure her in my place to live right now, right here. And she would have different thoughts, different impressions, and would find many things queer where I would not. Very, very much so. It is all just so, so…”
Only when Thea seized my shoulders did I realize my body was shaking.
“Stop!” she cried with sudden distress, “you stop that! Star—you are Star. You are not that person, whatever she was, do you hear? She is dead and you are here. You are not her and will never be her! You are just confused, tired! I know who you are, and so does everyone else. None would think of that girl you spoke of when they see you. Ah, what you spoke of was only memories! But memories and stray thoughts without bearing on your present. But echoes and useless noises!
“But, oh, to the Under with it all! Should the world turn down a dark path, and even you yourself forgot, I would remember still, so long that I was myself. I would remember it all. And if I must, why, for every waking hour, I would remind you of yourself. So don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t worry. You are not that girl! Don’t think, stop thinking!” There she fell into a seeming panic. Her first, if it was true, in all the time I had known her.
“Alright,” I told her, “I shall stop thinking. Alright, I will. Alright…”
“It’s just that…” beyond my control, my voice broke again, and then my legs buckled. I collapsed. The plank wall hit my back, and I sprawled on the floor.
“It is just that,” I gasped for air, “I know all that you said is true. But it is then, if I am not her, then who am I? An azure, I know, I know, I know, but… so what? What does being an azure entail? That I am empty is something I’d ever known and comprehended. But knowing is not like seeing. How terrible it was to see with your own eyes what it’s really like.
“You see. For I have naught that she had, and never will. She had a life. That girl had thoughts, you know. Like how she despised the pig pen behind her old house, that smelly place at the back of her kitchen. Always she had a keener sense than most. And how she had liked to sit at a window, any window at all, when it’s raining. For the wind would carry the scent from all the lands and all the waters to her through tiny droplets. And she had this fondness for wild roses that she would press any she found between the pages of her diary—seven of those she had written to half, but never filled to the last page… and there’s the ranches, the creatures… all of that, don’t you see, Thea? What do I have in place of it, Thea? Nothing. No, I am not human like her. But then what am I? What in the Under is us azures? What is me? We do not have those likes and hates, you know. We do not suffer. You never do, Thea, you never do, human though you are, but I can see the seeds of it, or the lingering suffering in you. Which I had not, now or ever!
“Today I hugged Lizia and she was in pain. Then I felt her pain directly in me when we took flight. It was so very real, so profoundly real. More real than aught I have ever felt or understood in all my life. But life?” I let out a strange sound. “I think I am a fake, Thea. None of what I do really matters, because I don’t have life. Because I don’t exist as you do, or as Lizia does, or as that girl did. I just do, I mean, I exist, and that’s it. I am no more than this damn plank or this damn ship, driven like an object across this sky, never to touch land. Because that is true. That is all I have and ever shall be. I shall never be her. I shall always be me. So do not comfort me so, Thea. It hurt. It hurts a lot when you say I will always be me. That me is nothing, but a big nothing! Nothing!”
Thea was holding me, and my hot tears soiled her hands. In her eyes, I saw that she had been deeply hurt.
“I know not what your problem is,” she said, “I do not understand. And I do not care. So why should you? Is it not enough that we are us? But if you care so much, then you will heed me, for I know better, and ever you trust in my judgment more than your own. I assure you, so take my word, I would that you do! I have been in this world for longer than you, I have been in many places, and I have seen much, and met other azures. You are not like you say or all that emptiness drivels at all, even as I am not, though it was true for me in the beginning. I know for I have seen many. Don’t you know, not only azures but many humans are even as you say, having no sorrow or happiness, likings or hatings. Empty creatures without a thing worthwhile in their hearts and brains. But you are not them. Please trust me, trust me. I have seen you grow bored, or take a liking to a constellation over the others, or how you praised my songs and my cakes, and you can sympathize and even be selfish at times, though you may deny it. All of that is true. If you have no emotions, you wouldn’t be crying right now, would you not? You would not have grieved so without inner feelings. I think all that they say, all that you say, of azures are a lie. Because some humans are so, while some azures are not. Think, Star, think clearly, I would that you think!”
“You really think so?” My voice was hoarse.
“Why would I not? I hate you so much. All this time… you think I am the one with feelings and sufferings, and you are not? But that is wrong. For it is I… Nay, let us not talk about it right now... But know that it was you who saved me. And save me you did. Why then must I care for some bygone suffering that could hardly be called such? That is such a silly thing to say! And you yourself are so unbearably silly!”
I did not know. It could very well be that she was merely attempting to cheer me up. Mayhap another lie even as the one I had told Litzia. She was the kind who would lie to make people happy. I knew. And yet I wanted desperately to believe her. It meant the world to me, for the falsehood of which would shatter mine and more.
How funny it was. I was here, my face in her hands, clinging to Thea’s pity to feel alive. It was but the reverse of Litzia and I this morning. The one who’d pitied was now pitied.
“Are you calm now?” she asked.
“I think.” But what of her? There had been a stark pallor on her face for a bit now. And if not for my own shaking, I might have sensed the tremor in her touch also. But I would stay for her. For myself also. For as long as the night lasted. Who would blame us for it, after the things we had gone through on this dreadful day?
But against my wistful hope, at that moment, a plank nearby groaned. We jerked our heads up like a thieving pair of cats in the night, but there was not a soul in sight.
“Be good,” said Thea, “go back and get some sleep.” Then she rose, my hand in hers. Something crossed her mind, then, “Oh, I forgot you wouldn’t sleep in our cabin anymore.”
“Right,” I said, “I will stay with Litzia from now on.” I had never thought I would, but before I knew it, I had come to miss the slave’s cabin already.
“Wherever it may be, you must sleep,” she said, “you look half-dead, and half elsewhere.”
I nodded. “Tomorrow I will see you.”
Instead of going fore, I went aft towards the stern, whence the sudden sound had come, which puzzled Thea, but she bade me good-bye and departed.
The moon was bright then, so at once as I turned the corner, I saw the person responsible for the breaking of our quietude. Funny, it was here once that I had stumbled upon her also. Litzia was leaning against the wall, near the spot she once sat with Begonia resting on her lap. While flattening herself against it, she sent her sight beyond the taffrail.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she said.
But she had.
“Well,” I sighed, suddenly ashamed, “I was silly back there, do not make aught of it.”
“You think I would judge you for that?” Litzia raised her eyebrow, as though hurt.
“You would not?”
“You try my patience, sister.”
“May I ask you a question then?”
“I am weary. Save it for tomorrow. We shall decide then,” she dismissed it and parted with the walls, setting to leave.
“Only one question.”
Litzia looked long at me, then nodded.
“What did you do back there? Was it you who roused the sun?”
“Nay,” she shook her head. “That was Aurora. I merely did what you told me to. I tried to call out for her. Though I was of the mind that none would hear. I was desperate to get it out there, and I did. It was her entire. If I played a part in that… thing, Aurora had the greater share.” Suddenly she sighed, her voice grew thin, floating in the gentle tailwind. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
My role was to be a liar. So a liar I shall be.
