It called mysteriously from beyond his dreams, a sound of unaccountable familiarity which drew Kianno into the coolness of that soft summer evening. A sound from deep within him, from before his time yet concealed inside his memory like a hidden package placed there by generations of ancestors: the sound of running water. It sliced and tripped rhythmically through the night and into the partially dismantled back room of this ancient wooden structure his parents had claimed for a full thirty days now.
Kianno sat up on the bug eaten and unraveling carpet, pulled off his blanket, and looked through the open beams to the sky above and the oak trees overhanging the old house. Listening keenly, intent on finding the source of this mystery, he relaxed now, satisfied of no intrusion, no sudden violence setting upon them, yet uncertain of the dangers from this new visitor to their home. He stood up and steadied the grogginess of the night with a balancing step forward, then set off through the house toward the oak shrouded yard where the soft interruption continued unabated. Stepping carefully so as not to wake his parents sleeping in the front room, the boy threaded a path through the abandoned home cluttered with dismembered pieces of itself- rotting planks, chunks of misplaced concrete, bricks fallen from broken mantles which had long since let fall forgotten photographs of wedding days and the repressed smirks of posed relatives.
When he stepped into the yard he was suddenly aware of small voices surrounding the persistent but undeniable murmur of flowing water, and as he moved closer over the hard packed dirt he could see the silhouettes of his parents raised up against a starry horizon of silent oaks. He held back in the shadows so as to secret himself into their muted whispers.
“Well, whatever the reason, we can’t stay now,” his father was saying. “You know that, don’t you?”
His mother did not respond but only continued gazing at the water flowing freely from a rocky slope which rose at the far end of the yard. The water ran between the rocks and explored a channel which formed the bottom of the slope. At length, she replied.
“A few more days, then. No one can see.” She nodded to the great trees overhead. “We’re hidden. You said so yourself when we first arrived.”
“Hidden?” His father scoffed, sliding circles in the dirt with his shoes. “This can’t stay hidden. Not for a few days, not for a day even.”
“It’s a gift,” his mother protested. “A sign that’s meant for us.”
“Maybe a sign, but a sign to leave at once. This will draw them to us, and with Kianno still...” he trailed off, deep in thought, then began again. “We’ll go back to Lexington. It may be safe now, at least until we can figure out where to go next. But we leave tonight. They’ll be here in the morning. They’ll follow it here.”
“Then I’ll wake him.” His mother turned toward the house to rouse her small son, but instead found him standing before her in the clearing of hard dirt and yellowed weeds. Filtered moonlight played over his delicate face and his steady, persevering brown eyes.
“No!” he blurted, much too loud and knowing full well. “No we don’t have to go!”
“Quiet.” His father rushed his side. “You’ll do what we tell you, what will protect you, and us all.”
“No,” the boy insisted once more, but quieter this time. “This is where we’re staying.” He turned to his mother. “You said so. You said this was the place.”
His mother remained silent, but took his hand and led him to the side of the streaming water, running fast and clear. For several minutes all three stood over it, entranced by its abundance, wondering silently at the forces which had brought it into their own private world. Like a poisoned apple shining before them, its frightening allure convinced them all, including the boy. It was a gift too glorious and magnificent to safely accept.
So they left, stole away to the sound of coyotes howling madness into the hills of old Los Gatos, and made their way under cover of darkness along trails leading toward Lexington. And as they ascended the tangled, broken roads, the coyotes raised their voices even higher, and the lions sniffed only a passing interest at the ragged troupe, too absorbed in chasing the restlessness of the night to bother a small boy and his family.
* * *
Farther down the slopes, in the Valley of Santa Clara, past the monolithic Hives of Los Gatos, Campbell, and Cambria, the Great Hive of San Jose slept peacefully through the night, unseen moonlight reflecting from its soliglas panels. It was an imposing sight for the outsiders who scavenged the hills above and would never see the world inside: a single structure twenty miles long and ten miles wide, rising fifteen hundred feet into the summer evening. Enormous soliglas panels covered the entire city, brazed onto t-steel girders locked together in endless rows, panels which served perfectly their primary purpose of reflecting each world from the vision of the other, leaving the goings-on inside the gigantic edifice to stories and imaginings. Earlier in the day, seven hundred thousand residents of this Great Hive coursed through its one hundred and fifty levels, but now, at the late hour of ten o’clock, all families were sound asleep, the entire city closed and slumbering peacefully en masse beneath a starry sky that few of them would ever see in their long lifetimes.
In family unit GGG-2354, tucked innocently away on level 87, in a small bedroom three slots over from the unit room, slept a young boy. Like Kianno, he was about ten years old, and, also like Kianno, his sleep was disturbed tonight by visions of threatening water. Dreams of ocean waves rising ominously before him and crashing down, swirling him in their froth and confusion, tossed Seelin through the night until one crashed with such ferocity that it shook the boy from his sleep and threw him running through the halls to his mother’s room.
“I’m scared,” he uttered quietly, somewhat ashamed of his fear. “Mother wake up. I’m scared.”
“What is it?” His mother was instantly awake from her own shallow sleep. “What’s the matter Seelin?”
“The ocean, tomorrow...I’m afraid. The waves are so big.”
“But I’ll be with you, and all your classmates. And the viewing platform is perfectly safe. Do you remember the visuals?”
“Yes...” He sat on the bed and kicked his legs a little, feeling immediately relieved.
“And do you remember how the viewing platform is high above the waves, so they can’t touch you, they can’t even come close?”
“But what if a really big one hits the platform, what then?” Seelin persisted, more to justify his intrusion than for reassurance.
“The platform is made of the same material as this unit, the same material as this entire Great Hive. Just because you can see the ocean doesn’t mean you won’t be entirely enclosed and safe from it. I promise.”
“What about the snatchers? Will they get us if something happens?”
“Nothing can happen, Seelin. You’ve heard stories, that’s all. The outsiders can’t touch us, they can’t even see us, even when we’ll be watching from the platform.”
“But what if we see them?” he asked curiously. “What will they do if we see them?”
“I told you, even if we see them they won’t know it, because they won’t be able to see us.” She paused, then added “This is a very special occasion, Seelin. I told you before you don’t have to go, but you’ll probably never get another chance. You may see the sky, if we’re lucky.” She remembered when she had visited only twenty years earlier. A mist had pressed down upon the water, hiding the sky. Another chance now, with a little luck.
She reached out tenderly to smooth the damp hair across the child’s brow. “Go to sleep now, dearest,” she urged him. “It’s late, and tomorrow will soon be here. You’ll see for yourself then.”
With her words, Seelin obediently left her bedside, walked slowly through the halls past his father’s room, and retook his own sleep much quicker than his mother, who still held the quizzical face of her only son in her mind’s eye (Yes he was her son; to herself she would never deny it). Seelin had grown almost to her own height now, with just a hint of seriousness shading his even features. Soon it would be time to begin the regulators, she thought; already the family had begun to question the timing. For a fleeting moment she glimpsed an imagination of her son grown beyond the threshold, but she did not allow herself more than a moment’s vision; such ideas could be dangerous and painful. So she turned her thoughts to the excitement of the coming day, thoughts tinged with a certain unrevealed fear of her own. The snatchers were there, it was true, ready to take advantage of any slip up, even creating their own, she had heard. But what could go wrong? A mechanical failure? They had sealed the tunnels with another layer of t-steel; even the primest of synthars would take more than an hour to cut through, plenty of time to return via another spotter. And yet there was always risk, she knew that, and to see the true sky she was prepared to take this very small chance of leaving the hive behind and flying the transpotters south to the ocean side.
