This is a chapter of the novel Earth’s Embrace by Space Cadet Michael. In this novel, the little and the lost becomes the fulfilled and the found - It is a novel of jungle adventure, artificial intelligence, and the answer to what happened to Percy Fawcett. See the full chapter list here.
Previously, Tolek got back to his/her/reir daily routine after completely upending Greg, Pari, Reeto and Mia’s lives.
Just outside Yoashicopitso - Kininasi
-Pari-
Pari comes to consciousness laying on her back on soft dirt. The blue sky above her is ringed with the tops of pine trees. There are clouds. Still at first, there, something to look at. Then Pari notices that they are moving, as clouds do.
Pari is in a dream-like state. She isn’t really Pari, all she is, at this moment, is an observer of clouds. The shapes are on their slow crawl, changing, moving, always something, until they are something else.
Then a large cloud moves to the side and instead of blue sky behind, Paris’ brain recognizes something that snaps her into red alert. The moon is way too big. It fills too much of the sky, like the moon has been pulled in right up next to the Earth. How had she not seen it before? She holds her arm out. At full arms length the moon is as wide as four full hand lengths. Where is she?
Pari becomes aware of her last memories, of being in that place, with Tolek. And Greg and Reeto. Pari sits up with a start, wondering if she is alone. She looks around and finds Reeto crouched at the edge of the clearing, looking at her surprised.
“Oh, you’re up.” He says to her. “Sleep well?” He doesn’t grin. She gets the very unsettling feeling that Reeto is not comfortable here. Reeto is usually comfortable everywhere.
“What’s got you Reeto?”
“Something brought us here, and yet nothing brought us here.”
“No tracks?”
“No tracks. It’s like we fell from the sky.” Reeto says.
That means there is no way back. Pari is instantly terrified. Terrified that she will never get home again, terrified that she has abandoned Mia and Oscar on some selfish escapade. And then she is angry at Greg for bringing her here. It is too much emotion all at once. She shakes her head and gets to her feet. “We need to get out of here, we need to go home. I need to get home.”
“I agree. We do.” Reeto walks over and gives Pari a hand up. “There are only two ways we can go.” He points at a dirt path that leads off into the trees in one direction, and at a stone path that leads off into the trees in the other direction. “And I’m afraid neither of them will go home.”
Their packs sit next to them. A third bag they have not seen before sits there too. “Tolek said we need to go find a city.” Pari continues. The stone path seems as good a way as any to try. Pari unlocks her arms from Reeto’s and holds out the crook of her arm for him to grab. “What do you say?”
He holds out the crook of his arm in such a way that if Pari were to grab it they would be aimed at the stone path. “We’ll get home.”
Pari gets the feeling he is comforting himself just as much as her with that statement.
“I’m glad you are here Reeto.” Pari says as she wraps her arm around his. It is comforting at the moment to not be alone in this experience. “We can figure this out.”
He tries grinning at her. It doesn’t quite work out, ending up more like a confused widening of the mouth, but she appreciates the effort.
“Come on.” She says, aiming to return the favor or consolation. “One of these paths must take us to the power pack. I think you are right to lean towards the stone path.”
Reeto grabs her arm in exaggerated affection and squeezes. He gives her one of his big characteristic grins and then lets go. “After you.” Reeto says. They each picked up their pack. Pari opens the new bag and sees that it contains Tolek’s broken power pack. She tosses it over her shoulder and they follow the stone path through the trees.
They have walked for just a few minutes before Pari’s thoughts drift to Greg. “I can’t believe he stayed behind.” Pari says loud enough for Reeto to hear behind her.
“I can.” He says.
Enough said.
The smell of pine sap fills the warm, dry air. It is comforting to Pari. Maybe because it reminds her of the scented candles she often uses for a nice relaxing bath. Strange to feel comfort so far from home. But the comfort soon passes as it isn’t long before it is displaced by a cool breeze that brings the smell of flowers, lightly sweet, sharp, pleasant… unfamiliar.
The forest ends abruptly at the sidewalk of a cobblestone street, and yet it doesn’t. Stone buildings, four stories high, rise up from each side of the street like a small artificial canyon. And yet the forest’s fabric continues into the city, not as trees, but as a layer of pristinely manicured vegetation that stretches up the entire face of the buildings.
A young woman suspended from a rope with a pair of plant shears is pruning brightly colored flowers when Pari and Reeto emerge from the forest. She feels or hears the visitors, turns, looks very excited and surprised and starts to babble at them in a language similar to the one Tolek had used when he/she/rey first woke up. The gardener holds out her hands as if to say, ‘don’t go anywhere,’ lets her shears down to dangle from a rope at her hip, then methodically rappels down to the ground, unhooks from the rope and comes out to the curb to greet Pari and Reeto.
She holds out her hand with a big smile and babbles something unintelligible.
Pari takes the woman’s hand and shakes it, smiling back. “I’m sorry, do you speak English?” She asks.
“En-glish”? The woman says haltingly.
“Yes,” Pari says, “English?”
“English!” The woman says with more confidence, with a pronunciation that makes it clear that she does not speak English herself.
“Yes! You know someone who speaks English?” Pari says.
The woman nods without understanding and lifts both hands up in excitement, then starts walking into the city and makes a motion that they should follow her.
They do so and find themselves walking down little street after little street, all with the same apartment blocks, all so beautiful. Flowers bloom out the sides of the buildings in pleasing patterns of shapes and color. Detailed stone carvings poke out through holes in the foliage. It is not particularly geometric, but it all has such a careful and purposeful form to it that it somehow soothes the mind.
Pari had felt the same about a garden once before, a very old garden, the two-hundred year old manicured Japanese gardens of Kenroku-en in Kanazawa. She had visited there on a vacation with Greg long ago. She puts it out of her mind. Instead she wonders how old this city must be to remind her of that garden. It takes a certain temporal permanence to obtain that level of controlled complexity.
They pass occasional people and a number of other gardeners. Each recognizes the newcomers as out of place, no doubt because of their very different clothes. Reeto and Pari wear mostly light brown colored, lightweight expedition gear. The people here wear woven clothes as intricately patterned and colored as their hanging gardens. The locals jabber happily, wave and smile as the visitors pass.
They cross a bridge over a fast flowing stream. Upstream, small channels divert the flow to massive water wheels spinning on either side of the stream. They stick out of stone buildings that tower straight out of the water’s edge.
Their guide leads them around a corner and on to a main thoroughfare. Here there are no gardens along the building fronts. The buildings are still beautiful though, smooth, almost polished stone, with ornate details carved above and around each door and window. On both sides of the street the buildings have storefronts on the bottom floor. Seven stories tower above the storefronts making the street feel like an even larger stone canyon. All the gutters are stone. Pari marvels at the exorbitant amount of labor that must have gone into the creation of this city.
This street is busy. Pedestrians walk along wide sidewalks on either side. People ride small wooden scooters with rubber wheels, pushing along with their feet. Large metal trucks ride by but have no engine noise. There are very seldom any sizes of vehicle between large trucks and small scooters. Pari wonders if metal is in short supply.
In the center of the street is the strangest thing of all: two parallel, wide, shallow, smooth stone troughs. These are like nothing Pari has ever seen. It is like someone has taken a pair of massive, razor sharp, ice cream scoops to the center of a solid stone street.
They soon see what these are for, a tram-like thing comes gliding along one of the troughs in utter silence. It is eighty feet long, twenty feet wide and just as tall. It is draped in all sorts of colorful fabric and a pair of drivers sit on its top near the front. It hovers just inches above the ground and is pulled by a massive beast. The beast looks like what might happen if one crossbred a brontosaurus with an ox, a llama and a macaw. It has four stocky legs and a short tail like an ox, but the head of a brontosaurus on a tall elongated neck like that of a llama. It has a wild display of bright blue, green and yellow feathers covering its entire body. They are short feathers that give an interesting fluidity to the surface of the beast as it walks. It walks slow and steady, pulling its heavy load from a yolk around its neck and shoulders.
Pari, Reeto and their guide walk along this street for a long way. It is perfectly straight and continues on much farther than they end up taking it. Their guide directs them off onto a side street that is just as crowded but less wide without any central tracks. The guide stops and points at the store they stand in front of. The sign hanging into the street seems to imply that they sell polished stones. The stone facade is painted alternating red, white and blue for various inset details, one of which looks surprisingly like the Union Jack flag. Their guide bids them enter, then gives them a small bow, a smile, and waves goodbye.
Pari smiles and waves back.
Pari stands still for a moment, taking in the store they have been taken to, trying to decide what might await them inside. The store has a wooden door with large, clear glass panes and a small sign that probably reads ‘OPEN’ in the local language hanging from a little chain. Above the doorway an albatross is carved into the stone, protruding like a gargoyle. Pari notices a small rope, carved in stone, tied around its neck, draping down to a coil by its feet. Underneath it on a wavy bit of carved scroll reads the words “Let live the Albatross.” It is the first English writing they’ve seen in the city and it makes the store feel strangely safe and familiar to Pari in this strange place.
Pari turns and holds out Tolek’s bag to Reeto. “In case something goes wrong I think you should be holding this.” Being key to their only hope of getting home, that bag is her most valuable possession.
Reeto takes the bag and puts the strap across his body. He nods. “OK.”
Pari pushes the door open. A small bell jingles, announcing their entrance. The store is a small, brightly lit showroom. Polished wood shelves line the walls and display small, strangely shaped, polished black stones. Some are close to spherical, others more egg shaped, others flat and others twisted in wild contortions. Some are as small as quail’s eggs, others as large as a grapefruit.
There are two men in the shop who had been in conversation when Pari and Reeto entered. The one behind the counter welcomes them into the shop in a language like the one spoken outside.
“Hello,” Pari says. “Do you speak English?”
“English, my dear lady!” The man behind the counter says with an accent that is mostly a right-old English gentleman with a hint of something softer. He has a thin face, olive skin, short gray hair, and thick coke-bottle glasses with a dark wood rim. He carries himself with a rigidity to his backside and an elevation to his nose. “Why yes I do. Have you just arrived?”
“Yes.” Pari says. “I suppose we have.”
“Ah! Welcome, welcome. You must be thirsty. Please, can I get you anything to drink? Some tea perhaps?”
“Yes please.”
“But where are my manners!” The man walks around the counter towards Pari, his hand outstretched in greeting. “My name is Fawcett. Brian Fawcett.” Pari extends her hand for a handshake and Brian takes it, turns it and lifts it to his lips for a quick peck. “At your service madame.” He says in the most genuine way.
The greeting surprises Pari but feels old timey gracious, which she is surprised to find matches her intuition from the store front and makes her instantly comfortable around him. “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
“I’m Parime Jimenez. And this is Reeto Heeb. Pleased to meet you Mr. Fawcett.”
“Please! Mr Fawcett was my father. Call me Brian.” He shakes Reeto’s hand then turns to the other man. “What luck Rimak! We have someone else to practice our English with! Parime, Reeto, this is a good friend of mine. His name is Rimak. Just one name, like the great theodicean ‘Maimonides.’”
Rimak is a large bear of a man. He has dark olive skin, brown eyes and close cropped hair. He is probably half Brian’s age. He laughs a deep hearty laugh at Brian’s reference. “I am nothing close to a theologian.” Rimak says as he shakes hands with Pari and Reeto with a crushing grip.
“If you say so.” Brian motions to a set of four ornately carved wooden chairs with brightly colored woven pillow cushions. “Please, have a seat.” The chairs are set around a circular three-legged table with a map of a geography delicately inlaid in the top. Along the top of the map is titled: ‘Kininasi.’ “I’ll have the tea right out.”
He calls out to the door behind the counter. It is no more a door than a hanging brightly colored cloth. “Kashiri! Bring our guests some tea.” There is no reply. “Kashiri? Kashiri?” He turns back to his guests who are settling into the chairs with Rimak. “Please, Rimak. Entertain our guests till I return. I won’t be a moment.”
Brian disappears through the hanging cloth calling out, “Kashiri!? Where have you got to?”
“So, where are you from?” Rimak says. English is clearly not his first language, but that does not limit his mastery of it. He speaks slowly, but competently.
“I’m from the United States, most recently anyway. Reeto is from Peru. Where are you from?” Pari says.
“I’m from the land of Poma Inca.” Rimak leans forward and points out a region of the map on the table before them, a very large region. “It is far that way.” He points to a corner of the store. “I heard the United States Army flew aeroplanes all the way around the Earth. Is this true?”
“I’m sorry?” Pari asks.
“My information is old,” Rimak says, “but I heard they started with four aeroplanes, but only two made it all the way around. This is quite incredible! Isn’t it?”
“Oh! Yes,” Pari says. “That was a while ago, in 1924. Things have come a long way since then. It took them about six months. Now it takes about two days!”
“Oh, amazing! You must all be so connected.” Rimak says, disappearing into thought.
In the next moment, Brian returns with a beautiful wooden tray with four tea cups, a pot, a sugar dish, a plate all fine porcelain decorated in bright, intricate, abstract patterns. Ornate abstract patterns are also carved into the handles and inlaid in the tray. The plate holds a spread of hard cheeses, nuts, crackers and grapes. There is a large bowl of something that at first Pari thinks is dried seaweed flakes, but at the same time she knows it isn’t.
As Brian sits the tray down, Pari is still staring at the bowl’s contents. She finally realizes that it is a bowl full of dried insects and resists the impulse to physically gag and squirm in her chair, hoping no one sees the total revulsion she feels inside. All the insects are about half the length of her pinky, all black, with wings down most of their fat bodies.
Reeto grabs a handful like it is a bowl of peanuts, stuffs his mouth and chews them. Like they are peanuts. Pari watches in horrified silence, hoping her revulsion won’t release itself as an impolite and inopportune vomit in front of these strangers. Her entire body is electric with a warning to reject this food at all costs. She tries to ignore the bowl of bugs and goes to grab a bit of cheese as a distraction before realizing that she has lost her appetite completely.
Reeto speaks before he has finished his mouthful, “Fawcett…” he swallows and clears his palette. “You wouldn’t happen to be from the United Kingdom would you? Perhaps the child of Percy or Jack? How old are you?”
“Reeto! You just met the man and you are asking his age?” Pari says in disbelief, wanting to protect the very dignified man’s dignity.
“It’s quite alright Pari, your concern more than makes up for your companion’s enthusiasm.” Brian says, smiling brilliantly at Pari. Then he turns back to Reeto. “I’m not that old, though I might feel it some days. Jack was my great uncle.”
“So Percival Fawcett the third made it here?” Reeto is very excited.
“I suppose you couldn’t read the sign out front. You are sitting in ‘Percival Fawcett and sons.’ This is his shop. I am his grandson. He started this business that’s kept my family going for four generations now. Five if Kashiri takes it on.” He pours the tea. “I understand it’s not quite like the tea you have at home. No tea plants here I’m afraid, but I promise that this is still delicious. It’s made from cacao husks. Unless you like a very bitter taste, I suggest a spoonful of sugar.”
Pari leans in to take her tea, eager to settle her stomach, as she asks in a slightly conspiratorial voice, “And what exactly is your business Brian?” Pari motions to the shelves lining the walls. “What are those things?”
“Those are favors of the Akadyon. We are purveyors of their religious artifacts.” Brian goes into his sales pitch mode. “We collect, catalog, and sell favors for every occasion.” He gets up and picks up a small egg shaped stone. “Is it your loved one’s birthday coming up? Give them one of these and the Akadyon will bless their next year with the gift of new knowledge.” He sets it down and grabs one made from two intertwined, twisting shapes. “This would make a perfect wedding gift, wishing a long and harmonious marriage.” He sets it down. “Or this.” He points to another, the largest one in the store, an egg shaped, grapefruit sized oblate spheroid. “This will give you bountiful crops as long as you have it planted in your field.”
“We are looking for one in particular.” Pari says while making a mime of its size with her hands. “It’s a bit bigger.”
Brian’s eyes widen. “That would be quite rare.”
It is a risk to trust this stranger. But maybe it is because of the Fawcett name, the familiar English culture, or maybe it is Brian’s open and welcoming demeanor, but the risk seems worth it to Pari. Perhaps they have made a friend here, or perhaps they can make a friend here. “Show them Reeto.” Pari says. “Please.”
Reeto pulls from his bag the piece that Tolek had given them. Brian and Rimak’s eyes go wide as they lean forward. “Nice huh? We’re looking for another. One that isn’t so exploded.”
“What happened to it? Were you trying to take it apart?” Rimak asks.
“No, why do you ask that?” Pari asks.
Brian responds, “The last one I saw that big, the only one I’ve seen that big, exploded when The Society tried to open it.”
“No, we got it damaged.” Pari says, “and it’s very important that we find another. What is ‘The Society?’”
“You will find out soon enough.” Brian says. “But you want to find another you say? What is your interest in the procurement of this favor?”
“It is of critical importance. A friend has asked us to help them.” Pari says.
“Well a friend of yours is a friend of mine my dear.” Brian says with deep warmth. Anyone else known for mere minutes would sound suspicious for trusting too soon. But something about Brian seems so genuine, so at peace with himself, that Pari has the feeling that he has chosen to trust them and means it wholeheartedly.
“Apparently they can be found in cities of the ancients?” Reeto says.
“The ancient ones, yes, we call them the Akadyons here. Please, put that away.” Brian says, suddenly serious, glancing out the large front windows of the shop. Reeto puts the power pack back in his bag.
“What you have there is priceless,” Brian continues, “even damaged as it is. If I didn’t like you I might take this off your hands right now and pretend I’d never seen you. But I’m a friend. By George those are hard to come by. And, as a friend, I can tell you that it will not be easy to get another one of these. There are very few this big left. You can thank Rimak for that.”
“Not me.” Rimak says. “My people, yes. But not me. It is not our fault that you Sisas were too afraid to go first into the ruins.”
“We’re not Sisas, Rimak.” Brian playfully feigns offense.
“That’s right. Not you. Your people are the Sisas. I do appreciate that you and Kashiri, you are different.” Rimak says.
“Yes, our people are afraid of the ruins.” Brian says. “They crave these favors we sell but find it utterly abhorrent to disturb the places they come from. A hypocritical reality that has served our family well since we have no such compunction.”
“So do you know where to find another?” Pari asks.
“Yes, back to business.” Brian’s demeanor changes immediately from playful to serious. “It is possible. I think.” Brian bounces up out of his seat, goes to the front door, locks it, flips what Pari can only presume is the open/closed sign around on its chain then heads to the back curtain. “Come with me.”
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Can Brian be trusted?
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