The Silver Falcon

Part 3

The memory faded before my eyes as the train began to slow. A city emerged before us. The streets were crowded with rickshaws, mopeds, bicycles, automobiles, and filling it all, like the mortar poured between bricks, were throngs of people. Street vendors selling magazines, or noodles, or books, or clothes— anything. Whole sections were devoted to wagons piled high with colorful fruit. Still others sold bits of roasting meat that turned over and over again. It was a bursting symphony of colors, smells and sounds; but I smiled as I saw it, because the mayhem was India just as much as the calm river and countryside.

Yet I remembered this same city, so many years before, when the trains hadn't come here. Back then it was only a small town, where the youth either left for new opportunities, or more often, took the same jobs as their parents. Now the trains had brought new opportunities, new technologies, new jobs.

The train doors slid open, and passengers left and came.

I checked the screens again.

DELAYED.

DELAYED.

DELAYED.

I stared for a moment, wondering if this was some terrible night-mare.

One chance. That was all I had.

One chance at redemption.

One chance to fix the worst mistake I'd ever made.

I picked up my suitcase, and then made my way back to where I'd seen the uniformed personnel disappear. The door was marked in bold letters: Authorized Personnel Only, but I didn't stop. I held up a hand, the soft glow lighting my fingertips, and then leaned forward, as the retinal scan blinded me. Then with a soft beep, the door slid open to a sleek hallway, and I stepped confidently inside. The train had the same layout as other GE trains, and I made my way to the planning compartment. A group of engineers argued inside the room. I pressed my palm into the scanner and the door opened, along with a computer voice that said, "Welcome, Abeer."

As one, they looked up at me, surprise written on all their faces. The silence stretched out until the head engineer narrowed her eyes, and asked, "Who are you? And how in the world did you get in here?"

I smiled. "Computer, please list my qualifications within the company. Informal mode."

"Abeer has worked for GE for the last twelve years, and was instrumental in developing and implementing the superconducting motor. He is a certified engineer."

I set the suitcase down at my side, it's weight resting against my leg, and then placed my hands on the table. I met the eyes of every person there.

"Now that you know who I am, you know that I have a personal interest in whatever is making this train delayed. What can I do to help?"

The head engineer looked baffled for a moment, then seemed to swallow her fear and press onward. She began to explain, and I closed my eyes and thought.

But while I did, I couldn't help but remember the very first time someone had called me an engineer. Suddenly I remembered a hot, humid summer day in the countryside, the sounds of bugs rising as a gentle symphony around us.

"You can't play with us!" The boys yelled down at Niam and me, as we stood below the twisted limbs of the banyan tree, a makeshift tree-fort crouched in its limbs. Niam put her hands on her hips and glared up at them. Then she pointed up a single finger brandishing it like a saber.

"Abeer and I built that tree-fort! It's ours!" The boys laughed at her declaration. None of us had built it, but Niam and I had found it several weeks ago, twisted between the great limbs of the tree. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, something her mother did when she was angry and about to use one of her tricks to get her way.

"Well, it's a good thing you fell for our trick, because that was our decoy hideout. Abeer already built a much better one. He's going to be an engineer." She stuck her tongue out, and I blushed red at her declaration. I'd only told Niam of my dreams to study at the Indian Institute of Technology, and only because the new teacher who'd come to the village had told me I had promise.

"You're lying!" One of the boys, the ring-leader, yelled, but sounded unsure.

"We're not, and Abeer and I aren't going let you in our new fort EVER!" She grinned, and this time I saw her teeth flash white in victory. I wondered if I should tell her I didn't know how to build another tree-fort; I didn't even know if I could be an engineer. But Niam was never afraid, and never doubted herself. She took my hand in her own and began to pull me away.

"Wait!" They called out as we turned. Niam kept walking, swinging her hips back and forth, stomping as she did.

"We'll let Abeer in. But no girls."

For the first time, Niam stopped, indecision in her eyes. And something else. Fear. I looked up at the boys in the treehouse, at their grins at having beaten her. Little Niam, who always outsmarted the boys. Little Niam, the only child in the village brave enough to poke the crocodile on the bank with a stick, and then run away with a face full of glee.

I stared up at the boys, and imagined I was half as brave as Niam. "Niam and I are both engineers. And our new fort makes this one look like a bird's nest!"

We laughed and then ran as the boys pelted us with the red seeds from the banyan tree. It didn't matter; we were fast. We ran and ran and ran, until we stopped and laughed breathless, writhing on the ground like worms after a rainstorm. We found a new hide out in some of the high grass by the river, and declared it a thousand times better than the tree fort. Together we pushed the very center of the grass flat, and then laid down and stared up at the blue, blue sky above.

Niam told me about how afraid she had been when she had poked the crocodile, but when I asked if she would do it again, said next time she would bring a bigger stick. I talked about the things that I would build someday, how they wouldn't pollute the river, how they would keep the air clean, how they would bring technology and advancements to all of India. I let my dreams grow as big as the sky above, safe in the high grass with Niam.

"And you can come with me, we can be engineers together!" I declared. But Niam surprised me, as she always did.

"No, I don't want to be an engineer. That's your dream." She fanned her hair around her, so that it splayed out and caught the sunlight. There, in that small grass fort, I had the first uncomfortable feeling about my friend. Her hair was beautiful, as slick and black as a panther. I wanted to touch it, and see if it was soft. But the thought disappeared when she turned to me.

"We will always be friends, won't we Abeer?" I heard the doubt in her voice, but there was none in mine.

"Yes, I promise." The sun drifted overhead, the only betrayer of our small perfect world.

"I promise too," she said solemnly, and then laid back in the grass. The crickets talked and sang, and high above the flat clouds floated like vegetables in curry soup.

"So if you don't want to be an engineer, what do you want to be someday?" I asked.

"I want to be a bird," she whispered. She turned to me, and for some reason something jolted in my stomach.

"Can I be a bird Abeer?" Her smile was mischievous, her tiny pearl teeth the same grin I'd always known.

"You can be anything you want Niam."

"Anything?"

"Anything."