In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 187-194

*****************************
Chapter 2
Noria
*****************************


So Ciral came back to the refugees
with some provisions and the joyous news
that to the best of his abilities
he’d take them to a place where they could choose.

A landing he’d constructed in a tree
for practicing his acrobatic skills
was ample sleeping surface for the three
the first night; then they headed for the hills.

The second day they found a house of stone
in which they slept while keeping watch by turns.
’Twas decent shelter, but it stood alone.
With tubes about, they’d have to watch their sterns.

They wanted something similarly built
but in a place that giants would avoid.
The carriers would let him ply his trade,
but humans unannounced might be destroyed.

The city near the mall was built of wood,
and through the years no-one had made repairs.
The few pathetic structures that still stood
had long been deemed unusable as lairs.

Just down the river lay a bigger town
whose outskirts Ciral on his rounds would reach.
Its skyscrapers had mostly fallen down—
a barrier the robots could not breach.

Amid this broken mass they found a church
with granite walls sufficiently tall
that they could build a platform for a perch
on which the trio now could safely sprawl.

Within a week they had themselves a house,
complete with roofing and a swinging door.
Not quite like home, though—no one had a spouse,
nor what they’d known as substitutes therefor.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 160-186

I find myself drawn back into this thing. I stopped posting hither about six weeks ago because the "hit counter" that Jeff set up told me very few people were following the story. Noemi thinks this is because people don't want to read just a few stanzas at a time. She tried to convince me to post the remainder of the canto all at once. I objected to that on the grounds that I would soon exhaust my material. Well, it has been a while, and I suppose I can compromise. The third canto is broken into chapters, and we have 27 stanzas left of the first chapter. Here they are:

Remember when our hero made that pledge
to help if needed by his mom and sis?
I’ll bet that left you sitting on the edge.
You wouldn’t think, “Well, that’s the end of this.”

I wouldn’t risk offending you, old chum,
by pointing out what you have left unsaid.
So I’ll assume you figured they would come,
and thus you knew the answer way ahead.

He saw them from his perch up in a tree
while pausing for his breath after a climb.
He paused some more to make sure they could see,
then shimmied down the rope, taking his time.

As he approached, the women simply stood
like they were held by something out of sight.
They seemed no more excited than they would
had they been he, and he showed no delight.

Their debtor walked as slowly as he could
to where they waited, as some watchers will.
“You silly girls,” he smirked, “don’t you look good.
How long have you been standing there so still?”

“A little more respect will do just fine,”
his mother scolded him ere she replied:
“We’ve been here since our shadows made this line
two days ago—too long to be outside.”

“We weren’t so still as that,” his sister chimed.
“We had to move to keep the rats away.
And your arrival could be better timed.
Our food and water ran out yesterday.”

“Oh, this is where I said that I would be?
I could have sworn I told you on the mound.
It’s my fault, then, you waited hungrily
where there was sure to be no one around.”

“You knew we wouldn’t venture near that thing,”
said Noria, now speaking carefully.
“It must have been so very comforting
to picture our surprise at what we’d see.”

A year before, his heart would have been stung
to hear himself in such a way accused,
but now he could ignore the girl’s sharp tongue.
He had learned how to find himself amused.

“I overcame that fear; why couldn’t you?
Your motive was at least as strong as mine,
and we share genes,” and all of this was true.
He’d thought them produce of a common vine.

His mother said, “We need your help, young male.
We can’t stay at the compound any more.
Your sister can’t have children; she’s too frail,
and I can’t keep the menfolk from her door.”

“Well, she is sickly, that I can’t dispute.
To bear a child will be the end of her,
and skinny things like her are seen as cute.
But that’s a part of life, are we not sure?”

“Where we have lived, that’s certainly the case.
My sister died that way, you may recall,
but if you take us to another place
then Noria’s demise we might forestall.”

“Come, Mother, even if you could survive,
and if you had a notion where to start,
I don’t see how you’d possibly arrive
at that fantastic onus on my part.”

“But look at this: How can I be so rude?
You must be nearly into hunger’s throes.
Wait here—I’ll bring some water and some food
and then decide how with you to dispose.”

Once in the tube, he told its denizen
about the relatives who came to call,
about the reason they had left the pen
and the trap into which he did not fall.

He told this as the joke it seemed to him,
expecting her to see it as the same,
but she looked serious—nay, she looked grim.
She chanted slowly, softly Ciral’s name.

She went on thus, composing her response,
then came alive as she delivered it:
“A man who takes by force that which he wants
has marked himself as morally unfit.”

“So I should punish those who pose this threat?
That’s nearly every man within that fence!
And what has made you suddenly upset?
You look disturbed and make but little sense.”

He voiced his fervent hope with rising stress,
as though the whole idea had come from her,
but Darna stepped around his crude finesse
and answered with a semi-sequitur.

“You can forget the nitwits down below.
I’m asking you to take a moral stance.
I’m thinking that it’s time for you to go.
I’m recommending that you take this chance.

“It was your word of honor that you gave.
You did not know the consequences then.
Now, finding out, you cannot simply waive
your standing in the world of honest men.”

He wanted to remind her that he could.
His world had but one man of any sort.
But he knew she knew that he understood,
and her intense demeanor cut him short.

“This way your second journey now begins.
You’ve fruit to gather from another tree.
You’ll know when you’ve forgiven your own sins
that you are ready to return to me.”

She would not answer when he asked her why
she suddenly desired that he depart
or by what logic he must rectify
a situation that he did not start.

Nor would she tell him what transgressive acts
demanded that he self-exonerate.
At last he lost all hope of getting facts.
He’d solve the riddle at a later date.

Fervent hope: Ciral saw this as an opportunity to obtain Darna’s blessing for his plan to attack the compound.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac