Steve Michel's Journal of Lateral Modernism********************** Vol. VIII No.11 Nov. 2007
Soil Mechanics
A while ago I wrote a SCIENCE FICTION short story which got published in a small SCI-FI quarterly: Creative Brother #6 in 2004. The story was inspired by the scientific work of Kenyan Nobel prize winner: Wangari Maathai. The magazine editor loved the story but suggested I alter the location to another planet! Here I share, with my readers, the story as a monthly series.
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Soil Mechanics
by Steve Michel
It was cold that rainy morning in the Kenyan Highlands. Timo stirred shivering in his blanket on a cot tucked in a corner of the bare dormitory room. The sun had risen behind a clouded sky. Diffuse light fell through a narrow window on the stone tiled room with bare walls of gray plastered brick. Droplets of rain splattered the sill of the window in the fits and starts of wind gusts. Through the window of diffuse light, came scented breezes from fields of wet grass, cows and morning dew.
"Arise sons of Wangari" The voice of the Lector percolated through Timo's mind as it does every morning. But today was different as it has been for the past few days; Equinox was soon arriving.
Eyes heavy with sleep, Timo stirred awake. He groped around for his boots and pants under and on the carbon chair. He put boots and pants on in no particular order. Half way through a pant leg and a boot, the bells of 'Matins' tolled the morning air. Timo hurried all the more; he quickly tied bootlaces and fastened his pant's cloth belt. He didn't want to be late again for Morning Functions. Phyto had warned him that he was singled out in Brethren Jay's list. Dereliction of duty was a cloud above his head of late.
Bare chested he ran out into the dim corridor. The other boys ran out of identical doors, flung open casting morning light into the hallway. They laughed and jostled, footsteps hammering down the spiral stairwells to the basins to wash up. The rain had thinned to a drizzle by the time they reached the courtyard and stood in the grid formation for Matins'. Timo breath clouded the air slightly has he stood looking out the yard opening and closing his hands while muttering a silent mantra. The bells had ceased. 'For once I'm on time,' he thought 'Crow would have nothing on me today'. Timo, stood taller than the others. He might have been older except his face held still the youthful roundness at odds with his lanky body.
The courtyard of boys waited immobile but fidgeting. Waiting for the Brethrens to arrive. Some groggy swayed still in half sleep. Others thought of breakfast with impatience.
Then from the jack arches soon appeared the Brothers at a more leisurely pace. One by one, they arrived for the Matins Kinetics and speeches. Boys late darted to and fro to the grid. Brother Jay, the tall maroon wing leader, stepped in front of Timo's grid. "Announcements follow. Fall in!" he shouted. The orders echoed reverberating throughout the courtyard by the other Brethrens. Twenty in all and one hundred assigned to each.
Then finally after a time, Lector Crow's voice came through the grid. "Equinox is soon and your experiments must be filed soon in accordance to observances. It has come to my attention some of you have been engaging in statistical sophistry" Crow knew well some of the lads tried to cheat counts at lens duty to correlate their findings. It saddened him that youth lacked patience or the discipline only age teaches. In the silent pause, only a hornbill cawed in the distance.
Brother Jay continued after a while. "Now at chores today I will be examining your litmus readings closely!" Jay said with airs that Timo felt did not earn his respect. "Timo! Pay attention. Now you and the three Cargias are going this morning to the village for a delivery. Grab your breakfasts at the refectory and report to the cellar docks immediately. Phyto and Fid at the seedling house till second reading..' So the orders went. Special tasks were a roll of the dice: either odious chores or welcome diversions from routine. That day, for Timo it was a trip to town.
When Timo got to the storeroom dock his mouth full of akra, Mir, one of the Cargias was already loading the wheeler. Timo was surprised to see them stooping to chores so quickly. "Hurry with your sloth" said Mir under a heavy rope sack. Though a head shorter, stocky, he outweighed Timo by a notch. Timo went down to the storeroom steps into the dim cellar. Into the gloom of damp coolness he went, tried lifting one of the bags stacked ceiling high. And swore. "Not so easy now eh Timi" Ty told Timo as he trod past him up the steps. Timo ignored his jibe and hoisted one of the sacks. He grunted with the effort, his back bent under the weight up the steps.
(to be continued next month...)
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