Day
Dawn
The Island
10 DAYS SINCE THE WAKING OF THE PEOPLE
Ket had been watching the white thing all morning, trying to decide if it was growing bigger or simply getting closer. None of the People had ever seen anything like it, and they were scared, but Ket was not scared, and he was not surprised. None of the People had ever seen anything before, for there had never been anything to see. They awoke at the birth of the world, granted a wisdom beyond the other animals on the island, and everything was new. They had food and water; they had tunnels to nest in, and a sky full of lights. They had everything they needed. There was nothing else.
But now there was a white thing on the water.
Ket tapped his spear against the ground. His sister Chirt had begun to make the spears on the eighth day of the world, and now on the tenth nearly everyone had them. They made it easy to catch the insects and mice the People lived on, far easier than catching them with teeth and claws. New things like this were happening almost every day, and Ket had to wonder if the world was offering them new ideas, or if their own capacity to have ideas was expanding. He wondered, for a moment, if his own ability to wonder was a new development, as well. The People were becoming smarter by the day, growing larger, and there were other changes, as well. He looked at his paw. He did not remember having these fingers in this shape when he awoke ten days ago. The mice and other rodents didn’t have them. Only the People. He wondered, and not for the first time, if the People had once been like the mice, and if their transition into something else was still happening.
What, he pondered, will we turn into?
The white thing was definitely closer to the shore now. It was enormous, the biggest thing he’d ever seen beside the island itself. He peered closer and saw with shock that there were creatures on it. Was it another island, floating up to theirs? More of the People clustered around him now, Chirt his sister and Tsit his brother, a dozen or more. They watched the white thing slide close to the shore, and the two creatures who rode it jumped down in the shallow water.
“They have arms like us,” said Tsit. “Arms and legs and hands.”
“It almost sounds like they’re laughing,” said Chirt. “Are they People?”
“They’re too big to be People,” said Tsit. “They’re as tall as the trees. And they have no hair on their bodies, only a tiny tuft on the tops of their heads.” He cocked his head to the side, watching closely. “Like leaves.”
“I do not think they are trees,” said Chirt.
“Look what they carry,” said Ket, and the People grew silent. The creatures in the water were pulling objects out of the white thing now, miraculous things that none of the People had ever seen before, and yet Ket could not help but compare them to the spear in his hands. We built this, he thought. Did they build that? And that? Their objects made a massive pile on the sand. Who are these creatures that build such great things?
“I think that they are Gods,” said Ket.
Chirt’s sharp eyes looked at him. “What are Gods?”
“Gods are People,” said Ket, “only bigger, and smarter. They have everything the People have, but they have more of it. Their size is greater, and their deeds are greater.” He looked at the Gods’ hands, saw their fingers in the same shape as his own. He wiggled his fifth finger, the one that gripped against the other four. The one the animals didn’t have. He looked back up. “We should approach them,” he said. “We should ask them for their gifts. Perhaps, with their gifts, we could become like them.” He paused. “Perhaps that is why they are here.”
“We will give them our gifts, as well,” said Chirt, and the People picked up their spears and their broad leaf platters of meat, both mouse and insect. They crept out of the bushes, out of the tall grass, and onto the sand—dozens now, nearly a hundred. The full group of the People. The Gods were touching each other, in what Ket was almost convinced was a kiss, and they didn’t see the People until they were only a few short hops away.
The Gods screamed and moved back. They babbled, and their voices were loud, but Ket couldn’t understand them.
“They can’t speak,” said Tsit. “They can’t be smarter than us if they can’t even speak.”
“Maybe their language is greater,” said Ket, “like their objects are greater.” But he had his doubts. As confusing as the words were, the feeling seemed clear; he could hear it in their voices, and see it in their eyes.
They were afraid.
“A God should not be afraid,” said Chirt.
The larger God was clutching a giant spear, but a strange one; instead of tapering to a sharp point it flattened into a broad, flat leaf. Ket wondered what type of creature the Gods must hunt to need a spear so powerful. Tsit hopped closer, his eyes narrowed and suspicious, his spear held at the ready. The darker God—the female, he thought—hid behind the lighter one, and the male brought its spear down on Tsit with a great rush of wind. Wet sand flew. Ket had never seen such strength.
The God raised the spear. Tsit was a bloody mess in the crater it had made.
“These are not Gods,” said Ket, shocked at the attack. “They are not great.” He looked back at the People behind him, saw the fear in their eyes. The rage. “Animals have died before, and insects, but never the People. They have not brought us gifts, but death.” He turned back to the Gods. “They are afraid. They have great things, but they are not great. We would be better Gods than these!” He looked at the People and roared in righteous anger. “We will take their gifts! We will eat their meat! And we will become new Gods!”
The creatures screamed, and the People charged.