Bonds Formed in Sand

Everything happens all at once, and I find myself flowing through the perspectives of two other humans besides myself. I think I've been distracted from my primary objective. I don’t think I mind as much as I should, as long as I get something out of my wool-gathering amongst these others playing society. Well... I guess I’m actually playing empire-building while everyone else is playing society, learning them and from them to better be like them in order to fit in. These ones are better than other humans, though.

Kapto prances up to Amika, wearing a loose loincloth billowing with the swinging appendage, the bellowing sands breaking against his naked torso.

"Hello, my lady." He bows clumsily, to numerous giggles, including Amika's.

"Hhhgg... mhgg..." he clears his throat. "You are like a desert flower, a thing so rare it's never been seen."

A giggle escapes me from Tito at the spectacle.

"Until now that I look into your eyes and behold your hand in my own. Yes, indeed I have discovered the desert rose."

Whistles and catcalls ring out as the others encourage the entertainment, with Amika herself flushed with embarrassment and humor, not daring to stop the show, though everyone knows there isn’t a chance she’ll agree to his proposal.

Kapto trounces on floridly, and everyone laughs and has a good time in a cave dug out enough to stand upright. No one is trying to keep the sand out. All the sophisticated tools have stopped working, yet everyone is living fine without skinsuits, rebreathers, or water extractors. Fennec skin wraps and the breathing technique are enough to keep everyone healthy and comfortable. They hunt crabs that jimmy up from the bottom of the sands at night for water and sustenance, and they live more amongst each other now than they did when they thought they were all dying.

Relationships start to form among the survivors, all 24 of whom are generally from the same area and have some familiarity with each other. Before, there used to be three distinct groups: those conserving their strength hoping to live, those dying slowly, and those driven mad by the desert. Now, no one here is worried about survival but flourishing, and I encourage it. I encourage them to cooperate and help them understand each other better. Overall, every one of them wants to be useful, to have a place and belong, and so that sense of belonging is cultivated by constantly breathing together, eating together, and slowly being connected better through Aetio.

Aetio/I step back from myself and into their society as the Sand Season slowly wanes. An isle of survivors grows stronger by infusing themselves with energy that gave them sustenance and satisfied most hunger and thirst for as long as it lasted. They always have to keep practicing the breathing technique to stay charged with energy, and so they spend a lot of time together, unable to lie to each other because of Aetio.

When the young man, Aetio, looks into their eyes and sees inside them, they also see inside him, a skill they subconsciously mimic and hone every time he looks into their psyche.

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Vera

"...and that’s why it’s called sandweaving." I catch Kapto trying to impress the girls. I roll my eyes, making eye contact with Enala, reading the amusement, exasperation, and minor jealousy as she accepts Kapto forming bonds with girls not of our old hold.

I don’t know what Enala reads in my eyes, but we both grin at each other. "Wasn't he just forming with Amika a few days ago?"

"Got rejected, and now he’s looking elsewhere," Enala says, embarrassed by our cousin’s renewed interest in women, while also craving attention from him in remembrance of their past entanglements.

I feel her knowing what I’ve seen in her, causing her cheeks to flush a charming hue so healthy and cute that I find myself laughing with joy. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh," I say as Enala hides her eyes, her entire face turning pink.

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"It’s okay... I’m not yet used to being so transparent to everyone." Our eyes meet again, and I see the determination to be part of this budding community and how we’re silently on the same page about it.

"I'm glad everyone wants to stick together even after the season," I say out loud what we’re both thinking.

Our eyes talk, and we both gaze at the other breathing circle, where Aetio is sitting diligently and perfectly sand-breathing with every breath. The young man is not tall or short, handsome or ugly, but average in every aesthetic. Yet he talks and hears with his eyes such that words are never necessary when communicating with him.

"We all grew up hearing stories of people who walk into the desert during Sun or Sand Season and return sunmad savants, but I never believed it to be true," Enala says quietly, shaking her head. "Then comes Tito from the desert, naked and without a rebreather, talking about spending a month out there... Now Aetio, also coming from the deep desert with a way to read people's inner thoughts..."

"And with both of them teaching us freely, it's just..."

"You really want to go deeper into the desert when the season ends?" I ask her, even though I know she’s scared but determined.

"What better life can I find out there than what Aetio and Tito are offering here? I think everyone is mostly on the same page, though no one has started planning anything yet..."

"Yeah... we’re gonna be our own hold of outcasts that live in the deep desert."

"Not just a hold. From what I’ve seen in Aetio, we might just grow into more than just a single hold, but into a tribe or something."

We smirk at each other before getting back into our sand-breathing practice.

His sunmadness really is special, Enala says with her eyes.

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No need for words between us. How are you today, Tetra? I ask one of the more interesting minds of the 24 survivors I’m cultivating.

Words are boring anyway. What do you want? "I'm fine, how are you?" she says deadpan, seemingly annoyed by my presence, her body language indifferent.

Nothing, I just prefer spending time with you than with anyone else so far. "It has been nice getting to know all of you," I say with a grin, sitting cross-legged next to her.

Mhmmm, she accepts the explanation. "You say that like you’re practicing polite conversation. How are you this good at this sand-breathing already? I haven’t seen you spending much time with the specialist." What’s with you and Tito?

Tito is afraid of me, afraid of himself around me, afraid. "I’m the one who first taught him the breathing technique, so I’m more of a specialist than he is."

"Really? The rumors are you’re from the same hold in the deep north and you both went mad getting here, which gave you your insights." I like the term 'insights' better than madness-derived abilities.

A genuine smile crosses my face, amused by how simple and straightforward Tetra’s thoughts are. The alignment of thought, emotion, and words is direct, unlike most people who don’t say what they mean. "I like you," I say with a smile, as Chlotetra and Oxytetra giggle and gossip about our conversation.

I like how straightforward you are as well. "Most people find me harsh. They used to find me harsh."

And now they don’t? "Oh?"

"And now everyone I know understands my mood and intentions with a glance. Yeah, can you believe it? My amazing personality used to fly over their heads."

"Most humans are quite stupid, I’ve come to realize as well."

She snorts. "You can say that again." Where are you really from, Aetio?

"West and north of here, at the edge of the cutting and still sands. There is a tower of metal and glass that houses slaves and their guards. Maybe a month’s walk from here. That’s where I’m from."

"Really? I’ve heard of those places. Run by one of the foreign corporations using clones as a labor force, the rumors say," she is both agitated and excited. Are you a clone? The silent question hangs between us, making me wonder how I’d know if I was.

"I don’t know." I feel human like all the others feel to themselves. Would it make a difference?

"Well, if you’re a clone, you likely have a barcode somewhere, definitely some tracking and elimination devices inserted in you, at the very least." Everyone knows corpos don’t mint anything without a barcode and a kill switch.

We are joined by more people in our breathing circle who are curious about me. I let myself be freely known and understood by these people, even as I intend to keep a low profile in this world.

"Did you escape? Wait... are you a corpo brat?" Doxy asks from across from me.

I tilt my head, gazing at him. Where is your mind-speak, Dox? I seemingly ignore him to others, but only he perceives my meaning.

"I mean... since you’re from those buildings, you have to either be an escaped employee or an escaped product." No disrespect meant, but it makes sense if you’re some sort of experiment. I nod approvingly, getting the meaning from his mind directly.

"I honestly don’t know what I was before I escaped. I woke up almost dead in a pile of dead bodies. I climbed out of the desert of bodies, rested, and began walking."

"That sounds harrowing," Tetra says sympathetically, the first time she’s shown this emotion during our interactions.

"It was, and I believe I’ll see more of it yet."