Impossible Dreamers

Chapter 40 (mektwi-que): Naytwi-tag windows

They were out on a visit. As part of the training in how wonderful things were with Tyro as leader, the Bartyronians were showing them all the incredible things they had done to what was now called Grabble-town. Only it wasn't 'Grabble-town'. It was Seren-ila. But nobody was allowed to call it that.

Well, it was better than the moving belt at the factory. But there was still the threat of a shock, as Silmoa went up and down the line with her shocking stick. So far, she hadn't used it on Liana, but it wouldn't be long before she did. Of that, Liana was fairly sure.

Up ahead, the 'guide', a pale Bartyronian with a sour look on her face, was explaining how the land had been transformed for the better since her people arrived. Liana wondered where people like her lived. Not in the sort of place that she had to stay in, of that she was sure. The hostel was crowded, noisy, and totally lacking in privacy. There was nowhere that people could talk to one another without being overheard. And now, apparently, even her thoughts could be were being watched. Every room in the hostel had been equipped with a new thought scanner, its eye constantly roaming, terrifying everybody.

And even here, out in the open air (the air that Tyro had invented, it was still said) they were accompanied by one of the dreaded machines. Its trolley was pushed along by another Bartyronian, who looked closely at the screen as he walked along. Every now and then, he pointed at a girl, and Silmoa hurried over to prod her with her shocking stick. Liana looked at Silmoa's face as she did this. Was she enjoying it?

'We will soon come to a place which was once a useless field, overrun with grass and flowers,' the Bartyronian teacher was saying. 'Now, it has been usefully developed. Where there were fields, there are now hard surfaces, and places to store equipment. It is here that the wonderful flying machines, invented by our great leader, Tyro Tyrannosus Rex III, land and take off.'

As she spoke, the sound of a flying machine could be heard. Liana shuddered. All that heavy stuff up in the air. What was keeping it there? What was its fuel? She could only imagine that it was something that had been stolen from the earth. The sort of thing that was unthought of in Seren-ila. If Tyro really had invented these flying machines, it was a stupid idea of his. Was it worth it for that, to tear up the beautiful old meadow? To replace a quiet place where people could think their thoughts and follow their own ideas, with a place full of awful noise, rushing people, hard surfaces and unkindness?

Middle Meadow. Liana remembered the meadow. How it changed with the seasons. From spring to early summer she loved to see the tall grasses with flowers poking out. Reds and purples and yellows bursting into life. Then fading into the more muted colours of autumn, and the beautiful bleakness of winter. The meadow promised renewal each year, but now that place was dead and unchanging. A home for the hated machines that brought the people and things that made her life so hard.

Liana smiled, thinking of sitting in Middle Meadow, with her eyes at the level of the top of the long grass. But the smile turned to a grimace as she felt the sharp burst of pain from Silmoa's stick. Had the thought-scanner really heard her inner voice so quickly? Well, even if it had, she couldn't help thinking what she thought.

The flying machine she had heard was coming in to land. Alongside it was a Guardian, wearing a pair of wrist-flyers. Or rather, 'aerial bracelets'. The Guardian was not very skilled in the use of the bracelets. He flew in straight lines, and sometimes got too close to the flying machine.

Why did they need flying machines? Why not just use wrist-flyers? Since Tyro had apparently invented them, he could presumably make as many as the Bartyronians needed. Liana tried to expel the thoughts that started to come when she thought of Tyro, for fear of getting another of Silmoa's shocks.

'One day,' the guide was saying, 'you Grabblers might be able to join with Bartyronians, and be full citizens in our great nation. But you will need much training before that. You must give up your old thoughts. Some of you are beginning to learn,' she looked over at Silmoa, 'but most of you are still a long way from understanding.' The woman seemed to look straight at Liana.

Liana tried to imagine how things used to be. The road she was now on, straight and hard, had taken the place of the winding path through a pretty wood, leading up to the old meadow. All the trees were gone now, apart from a few from which signs were hung, praising the great leader, and his assistant, Sleech. There were pictures of Tyro and Sleech, and whenever Liana looked at Sleech, she thought she saw something familiar in those eyes.

When this was Seren-ila, Liana would often wander through the woods. It was one of her favourite places. She would walk to the meadow, and sometimes rest there, thinking about what she should ask her learning guide, Piacho, when next she saw him. Or sometimes she would go further, to the Seren Lake, beyond the meadow, and swim in its blue waters. Herago sometimes came with, but he didn't swim. He couldn't learn, for some reason that she had never understood.

Thinking about Seren-ila was dangerous, and she tried to stop. Though it was giving her pleasure, so perhaps the thought-scanner would decide that she was thinking good thoughts about Tyro. In any case, she couldn't stop thinking what she was thinking.

Liana realised that they had now gone past the place where the wood had been, and were approaching the site of Middle Meadow. Tall buildings surrounded it, reaching up into the sky. Liana struggled to hold back her tears. She didn't want the Bartyronians to see her upset. The Barty woman was talking, but Liana could only hear the occasional word, above the hum of the flying machines. She had heard that hum before.

The tallest of all the buildings around the old meadow was straight ahead of her. It was grey and silver. She looked up at the roof. It was adorned with a gigantic letter 'T'.

Liana had never seen this building, but somehow she knew about it. She racked her brains to think when she had been out here before, but she was sure she hadn't. Somebody had told her about it.

It was an ugly building, square and flat, with lines of windows on each floor. Liana decided to practise her Barty counting. She counted the floors. This was something which had never been thought of in Seren-ila. The idea of people living one on top of the other. But now that all these Bartyronians had come, Liana supposed they needed more space. Still, it seemed a bad idea to live like this. Uncomfortable and ugly. Dak floors. Ten. Lots of steps inside, for people to climb. Then the windows. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Tag. Tag windows on each side. Naytwi-tag windows altogether.

'...and the beautiful building we have erected, not just for Bartyronians, but even some comfortable places for Grabblers to live,' the teacher was saying. 'For example, straight ahead of us is a living-quarter for some of your own people. Young Grabblers like you, though only males live there.'

The deafening sound of a flying machine landing drowned out the rest of what the woman had to say. Liana looked again at the building.

A sudden sharp pain in Liana's arm, and there was Silmoa, standing beside her. 'You weren't paying attention,' said Silmoa.

Liana needed to get back to her dream.