THREE HOURS LATER the flap covering the Masher chute in the hallway has been uncovered. I’m standing in front of it for the first time in years and Sung-Soo’s cheeks are pink with anger.
I’m exhausted, but I’m not going to move. I’ve seen the way he’s tried to make a new pile behind him, ready to throw in the chute as soon as it was accessible. He won’t let me look at things properly as we find them, always wanting to rush me. He doesn’t understand that I haven’t seen some of the things at the bottom of the pile for months—years in some cases. I have to be certain I don’t miss the CrawlerCam—easy to do as it’s so small—and each object pulled free brings a memory with it. None of it has been suitable for throwing away, and at the start there was no option but to take things into the other room once I checked them. When I saw that pile growing behind him each time I got back to the hallway, I knew his plan. Now he’s holding a mug in his left hand and a scarf in his right and he wants to throw them away.
“What is the point of clearing all that stuff if we’re not going to use the damn chute!”
“I need those.”
He looks up at the ceiling and makes a guttural moan. “No, you don’t, Ren. This is chipped and this is full of holes. You have to throw something away—that’s the point!”
“Not those.” I’m standing my ground now. The threat of losing them has tapped a new well of strength inside me. I let him bully me into coming here, but I won’t let him throw my stuff away.
“What, then? Show me something I can throw away.”
“You’re rushing me.”
“It’s not difficult. How can you build a house in two days and then look at a pile of garbage and not find one thing to throw out?”
“It’s not garbage! How many times do I have to tell you?” My throat is raw and I feel sick. I need another dose of pain meds, but I don’t dare leave him alone in here. He doesn’t respect my things.
He puts the scarf and mug back on the pile behind him and wipes his face with his sleeve. He looks tired too.
“It’s lunchtime,” I say. “Why don’t we take a break?”
His scowl is answer enough. “We’ve been here all morning and all we’ve done is move one pile of stuff to another room. You can’t get to the printer in there now, can you?” When I shake my head, he throws his hands into the air. “That’s why we have to start using the chute!”
“I’ll go through it in my own time.”
“When? How long have you been telling yourself that?”
“I can’t do any of it when you’re angry with me!” I’ve shouted at him so many times today. I never raise my voice usually. This isn’t good for me. None of this is. It’s turning me into something else.
“I’m . . .” He breathes in deeply and starts again, his voice more calm. “I’m not angry with you. I just don’t . . . I don’t get it. I don’t get how you can be so clever about everything else and so stupid about your house. No—” He pats the air, fearing he’s upset me. “That came out wrong. I don’t mean stupid. I mean—”
“Mad?” I say for him. “Crazy? Insane, perhaps? That’s what you think. Isn’t it?”
He doesn’t reply. I close my eyes and lean against the wall. I can’t remember the last time I saw the floor here. I can’t remember the last time I felt at peace. I don’t think I ever have on this planet. For a moment, the valley of my belongings feels like it’s closing in on me and I’m so painfully aware of how much there is between myself and the door. That tunnel out could collapse at any moment. I could be trapped under it.
I pick up a ball lying at my feet, something thrown into the Masher chute by a parent whose child has got too old for something spongy and pastel colored. I twist, intending to put it in the chute, but then I feel such a crushing wave of sadness for it, for something once so loved now being discarded without thought. My thoughts spin on to this house being empty and me lost within it, nothing to hold me, no cocoon, and all the things I’ve rescued and loved when no one else wanted them being lost forever.
I press the ball to my chest and then tuck it under the edge of the sling, protecting it from Sung-Soo’s glare. “No. There’s nothing to throw away here. We’re done.”
• • •
HE leaves after that, without saying a word. I sit, resting my head against the chute flap, and cry. I don’t know where the tears are coming from, or feel any particular grief or sadness. It’s just the end of hours of terrible tension. I don’t know if he’s going to try to come back. If he does, I won’t let him in. This morning is just more proof that I was right to keep people out.
The ball is uncomfortable, so I pull it out and place it next to me. It was pressing my pendant into my skin. I pluck it out from under my top and then pull the thong over my head. The desire to wear Sung-Soo’s gift has been burned away by the day’s events.
The carving is so warm it’s pleasant to keep held in my palm a while. I take a moment to admire his skill and decide that, once the heat has faded, I’ll find a nook for it. It will remind me to keep people at a safe distance. I don’t need to keep it that close to me; the lesson is too raw right now to be forgettable.
The heat remains for a good couple of minutes. That material has interesting properties as well as being beautiful. It should be studied. I see a gap in the pile opposite me, about halfway up that side of the hallway valley, and lean over to tuck it in. That’s when I spot the CrawlerCam.
I can still access the printer in my kitchen; it just takes a while to get to it. Once I’ve made and drunk a shake and taken some painkillers, I dig out my tool roll and run a set of tests on the cam to make sure it’s fully functional. The logical tests and tweaks I make as a result soothe me.
There are twenty-two hours before the seed ceremony. I can’t risk placing the CrawlerCam inside God’s city until tonight. It leaves the whole afternoon stretching ahead of me and the anxiety seeps back in without practical tasks to keep it at bay.
I look at the flap covering the chute and then at the tunnel between myself and the door. Is there anything I could bear to part with? I scan the edges, the makeshift walls, the unlikely roof of it. I see a patch of fabric from a dress woven in and around keepsakes that I wore to Kay’s house for dinner. She cooked everything from scratch, based on old recipes saved from her grandmother’s archived blog. We made love afterward and lay tangled up in each other and the sheets for hours talking about games and music.
Was I at peace then? Maybe. I think she helped push everything further away. I recall the message she sent last night, her thoughtfulness and the way she let me stay over without any fuss. Should I go to her place tonight? I send her a message letting her know that I’m fine and back home again. I promise to come and see her soon.
A strand of brown wool catches my eye and I remember the doll I rescued. I pluck her from the top of the tunnel and diligently untangle the remainder wool while the printer makes a pair of knitting needles for me. I call up knitting tutorials on the cloud and am filled with the thrill of potential. I ease my arm out of the sling and experiment with keeping my upper arm still and in position while using my hand to knit. As long as I keep my elbow tucked in, there are only occasional twinges. A quick search uncovers a new pattern for wool that can be printed with minimal resource cost and I download it to print while I practice with virtual wool in a gaming platform built to teach newbies.
It absorbs the afternoon and the early evening. I never make anything like this with my hands. I work in solids, metals and ceramics and the creative process is speeded up and distanced by the printers. I’m enthralled by the sight of something clothlike appearing one row at a time beneath the needles. There is an intimacy with this creation that my usual work lacks.
My back and shoulder are aching by the time the doll has a new arm. I feel so much better and so fulfilled by the sight of her whole. I want to show her to Sung-Soo and say, “This is what I meant!,” but I don’t want to open myself up to any more of his judgment. I position her next to my sleeping space so she’s the first thing I’ll see when I wake up, and after more food and painkillers I clear some of the things cluttering the bed. There’s room to lie down now and no need to stay anywhere except here. I can’t access the bedroom printer anymore. I’ll sort that out another time. Now I need to take the CrawlerCam to God’s city and gather some evidence. I’m back on track now. Soon I’ll have some answers. No more distractions. No more skulking around the edges of these lies and holy fears. I will learn that city’s secret, and when the time is right, I’ll take that knowledge and serve it up to the rest of the colony like a beautiful feast that will nourish us all.