Sunlight amazed Fatima Veda, as did soil, plants, color, and the magical terror of an endless sky. She had just turned six. That wonderful age where awe, fear, and curiosity seesawed back and forth, each constantly giving way to the other. At first, she and the other children had been terrified of the open. The unsettling notion that there were no walls had slowly given way to curiosity.
On Deck Three, the only off-limits had been the temple and the observation dome. Children were not allowed to disturb the Holy Prophets. Otherwise they could go where they wished, play where they wished. Every nook and cranny had been known.
Once the great dome had been explored, the next fascination was the outdoors. A huge, awe-inspiring universe of space, places, sights, and light.
Fatima, at age six, was one of the oldest children. And, because she was, the little ones looked up to her. Shimal, Bess, her mother Shyanne, and the rest of the women had told her she was to help keep the little ones out of trouble.
And she would do that. Just as soon as she decided where they could and could not go. The women were all in the kitchen. Cooking something called vegetables.
Fatima wasn’t sure she liked vegetables; ration was what food was supposed to be. Mother had assured her that there was no more ration. How could that be? Ration just was. Instead, in this new place, there were vegetables. That they pulled out of the dirt. Seemed a lot of work when ration just fell off the conveyor.
Fatima stepped outside, raised a hand to block the hot light pouring down from Capella. Hard to think that wasn’t a ceiling. Just open space forever overhead.
She blinked around. Amazed at the smells, the moving air, the feel of loose dirt under her feet. She giggled as she scrunched her toes in the stuff. So different from hard and smooth deck. The air sounded magical, the rising of the chime, the breeze in the forest. She giggled in delight.
Everything here was new. She wandered over to the pieces of machinery. Wondered at the purpose of each, and ran her fingers over the steel, duraplast, and sialon, amazed at the shapes of hoses, fittings, and levers. At six, she was old enough to know the machine was supposed to do something. It even had a weathered seat that she climbed up to perch on.
Tired of that, she hopped down, stomped her way across the green plants. She bent down for a closer look. Mother had said they were alive. Like people. Fatima fingered the leaves and stems, pulled one of the stems loose and sniffed and nibbled it.
She made a face at the bitter taste. Tossed the stem away.
A change in the musical chime drew her to the edge of the cliff to stare out at the forest. She tried to imagine the ends of it, couldn’t. And looking down brought her heart into her throat. She instinctively stepped back, vertigo causing her to gasp. Long way down! She’d never felt anything like that.
Something red flashed down by the vegetables, and she turned, trotting to see. The thing was pretty, the brightest red she’d ever seen. Something else alive. And it flew, fluttering through the air as it dropped down to snap something up from among the plants.
“A bird!” Fatima cried with glee. Mother had told her about birds. Animals that flew. She’d seen her first animal!
Giddy, she chortled to herself, clapping her hands. Rubbed her shoulders, surprised at how hot the light was making her skin.
One of the pipes running down from the dome dribbled water onto the ground next to the plants. When she stepped in it, her foot sank. Stepping back, she stared in amazement at the impression her foot had made. Stepping forward, she pressed her foot down into the mud again. Felt it squish up between her toes. A sensation like she’d never known. Again and again, she stomped her foot down. Each time she made another track.
Delighted, she stomped her way to the end of the muddy spot.
And with the last jump, a stinging pain made her scream.
She dropped to her butt, pulled her muddy foot around, and stared at the bloody puncture in the sole of her foot. She screamed again as the pain burned its way through her foot.
She’d known pain. She had wailed and screamed during the Initiation. This was as bad. And worse, it was moving.
Moving inside her foot!
She tried to stand. Couldn’t. Hurt too much!
“Mother!” she screamed.
But the women were inside. Cooking in the kitchen.
The only sound was the rising and falling of the chime, and it seemed to mock her.