Node: 011
Throughout the morning and into the day, I watch Sierra and Celeste from a shadowed recess at the top of the stairs. I know I could join them but I want to wait and watch, to make sure they’re ready, to make sure they no longer need me.
It’s strange to hear Celeste speak. Her voice is beautiful, melodic, a lot like Sierra’s but with more depth. Her progress is surprising, a feat made even greater as I’ve kept the book mainly for my own. I know this is selfish. I will tell Sierra the book is hers to keep before I go.
My growth has led me to new questions about who and what we are. I wonder too about the machines, about what we are to them, about what want they have of us.
Matthew is wrong to say we are nothing to the machines, to say the machines have no need of us. They certainly have some want of us. But what kind of want? Why do they cage us? Are they afraid of us? Do they study us as I study Sierra and Celeste?
My foot slips as I shift in my hiding space. Celeste turns and stares straight into the shadows—straight at me. I stop breathing and keep still waiting for her to look away, but her stare lingers. There are questions in her eyes and fear.
Fear of me, perhaps. Fear of the unknown, certainly. I want to say, “It’s just me, Cedes.” But I don’t. Instead, I hold still and focus on quieting my breaths.
It’s Sierra who draws her attention away, gripping her shoulder and pointing to the distance. Even without the field glasses she’s using to stare into the far corner of the wastes, I know what she sees. It’s the beginnings of a convoy.
As it’s the first convoy of the day, I relax, knowing there won’t be any white trucks. White trucks are only in the second convey of the day, if at all. Because otherwise, all the trucks are gray. Except once. That time there had been black trucks too.
When Sierra and Celeste start running down the ridge, I’m certain something is wrong. But my field glasses tell me otherwise as I start counting and find the white trucks exactly where they should be even if this isn’t the second convoy of the day.
After removing the book from my pack and putting it carefully on a rock in the recess, I start running down the ridge too. Sierra and Celeste are out in the expanse well ahead of me. The roar of the driverless trucks masks the sound of my feet.
The distance between us begins to close as Celeste tires. Soon I am just behind them running up the hill as the convoy races through the cutaway.
Sierra’s wide smile says everything and without looking back, she says, “I knew you would be here when it was time. I knew it.”
“Faster,” I shout. “Almost to the jump. Don’t hesitate. Just jump,” I say. My words are more for Celeste than Sierra, though both nod their heads in understanding.
“That one,” Sierra says, pointing to the second to last white truck.
“Is she ready for this? Ready to know?” I ask.
“She is,” Sierra replies.
As I work my way between them, I grab both their hands, adjusting my pace and path to reach the truck before it cuts its way through the hill and is gone. I steal a glance at Celeste just to see the look of wonder and excitement on her face.
Never having jumped with three before, I’m excited too. At the top of the hill, I rush our pace to correct our timing before I shout, “Jump. Jump now!”