TWENTY - A New Friend

Arous turned away and looked out the diner window. The neon sign lit up the vehicles outside; most of them were hoveh crafts, one or two wheeled vehicles and a couple of horses.

She looked back at the Momo at the counter. It was definitely a Momo and not a Sasquatch. Its head was round-shaped, more like a pumpkin than a Sasquatch’s head. A free Momo had long, silky hair covering its entire body. Momos quit grooming themselves in captivity.

Slavery. It’s slavery, Arous. Be careful.

“Go away, Edwit. I don’t need your commentary.”

She let her hands fall flat on the table. Tiny raindrop-shaped freckles on her hands and arms shone silver in the moonlight. She took a cotton jacket out of her backpack and covered her arms, pulling the sleeves down over her hands.

The inside of the diner was L-shaped with booths along the windows. That’s where she sat right next to the door. Silver stools with red, cracked vinyl seats lined the long L-shaped counter. More booths lined the adjacent wall. There was a door down the counter from where Arous sat. Door to door was straight as the barrel of a shotgun.

Arous finished her glass of water, the last half of it all in one gulp. She looked around the room. She examined a dozen slumped over bodies but no faces. Desperados stared down at his or her food or into a newspaper. A couple sat in a booth on the far wall. They leaned back with their eyes closed, napping. Or so it seemed to Arous.



“Miguel, why do they look funny in my mind-sight? Those two.”

“They’re friends.”

“She’s completely blocked me now, can you?”

“I’ll connect with them.”

The female Desperado sat up, pulled her hat over her eyes and watched Arous.



Arous skimmed the inside of the diner for a clock. No timepieces. No ticking. She looked outside. No sun. The moon hid now. She knew nothing of time but darkness. The last thing she remembered: the fading sun ahead of her and the blaring lights of the pick-up behind her.

“Here’s your food.” The proprietress slung the plate down on the table. “Hollar at me if you need anything else.”

“More water?”

Arous looked to the Momo and the Momo winked at her.

“You know me?” Arous mouthed to her.

The Momo winked again.



A Desperado from the bar slid into the booth across from Arous’. He stared at her for a second, went back to the bar, grabbed his plate, and came back to sit down. He looked at her again, bit off a piece of his sandwich and chewed.

“Heya, will you bring me my glass?” he asked the proprietress and looked back at Arous.

She returned his gaze for a moment until he made her uncomfortable. She looked back into her glass of water.

“Hey,” he said. She didn’t say anything. He said it with a similar tone that he spoke to the proprietress so she really didn’t think he was talking to her.

“Hey, are you shy?” He giggled and grinned.

“No,” she said.

“Too bad,” he said. “I kinda like shy girls.”

Arous didn’t respond.

“Are you going to talk to me?” he asked.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Well, you could’ve said ‘hey’ back,” he said.

She looked at him a moment then looked back down to her glass.

“Hey,” she said.

“Maybe you’re just slow,” he said. “You look like you might be slow. You’re not Amalgamese.”

“You’re not Amalgamese either.”

“Hey, I think we’re having a conversation,” he said. “No, only part Amalgamese. Not many of us out here in the Sticks are full blooded Amalgamese. But the Sticks, it’s a big place.”

“That’s a bit of a contradiction, isn’t it?”

“What?” the Desperado grinned.

“You can’t be full blooded Amalgamese. That’s just what Amalgameses is. A little bit of everything all mixed up.”

“I don’t under stand.”

Arous got quiet.

“Ah, you’re not going to get quiet on me again are you?” he said. The female Desperados in the booth tipped the brim of her hat up and touched the male Desperado sitting across from her

“I’m just tired.”

“I got a place you can rest,” he said. A couple of Desperados at the bar laughed. Two of them didn’t.

NINETEEN - Plateau's Edge Diner

Arous opened the door of the diner. The ringing bell startled her but no one at the bar stirred. She stumbled to a booth and plopped down. She propped her head up with her hands. She felt drained, weak. She could almost feel energy pouring out of her as if through a sieve. Her eyes closed.

A proprietress slammed water down in front of her.

“What you want?” then she paused. “Honey, you don’t look so good.”

“Can you tell me where I can get cleaned up?”

“Through that swinging door. Ladies on the left.”



Arous stood up, righted herself like a drunken Desperado from the Sticks just long enough to swagger to the swinging doors before banging into them. It was sheer momentum that got her to the bathroom door. She wedged herself between the door frame and the door and used the rest of her momentum to fall into the bathroom

She pulled herself up to the sink. Her hands shook under the heat activated faucet. She splashed water on her face and neck and up her arms. It had a strange rusty smell and tasted of sharp metal. Water had never felt so good. It sent a strange tingling feeling through her body.

“I don’t understand . . . ”



“If she’ll listen, tell her, the Mist is in the water, tell her that’s her way to connect to her Source, tell her -”

“She’s already blocked me Miguel.”

“She’s missing her Source already.”

“She doesn’t care,” said Edlawit.

“Try harder!”



“Arous, it allows a connection to your Source. In the Bowl there is always water in the air so you are always connected even when the Diofe isn’t near he’s still present. It’s like blood in the body. It connects the members of the body to each other allowing them all to experience the breath. The breath is their source. The Mist is in the water, it connects you to your Source, the Diofe.”

“Edwi?”

“Yes.”

“How are you here? I didn’t think of you. I didn’t let you.”

“You splashed the water and thought of the Bowl and how you missed it. I wedge all of myself into that tiny little crack but, unless you help me, I’m not strong enough to-”.



There was a loud knock at the door.

“Honey, are you OK in there?”

“Yeah,” said Arous. “I want something to eat.”

“Well, wait till you’re out of the bathroom. Sheesh.”



“You don’t get out of Kansas much, do you?”

“What?”

Arous had asked “what is that?” for every picture on the sticky menu.

“Where you from?”

“Uh,” said Arous.

“Right, every other person that comes in here is from the land of Uh. Why’d I expect any different from you? Why don’t I just pick something for you? I know, no meat.”

“Yes, thank you. Oh, yeah, and a big glass of water.”

“You already got that right in front of you.”



Arous watched the proprietress walk back to the counter to flirt with the Desperado’s stationed there. That’s when Arous saw her. The Momo had been watching her. Her eyes lit up when Arous made eye-contact with her. Her coat should’ve been silken but instead it was matted and dull.

“What are you looking at?” the proprietress said to the Momo.

“You know, they’re trying to get rights for these Momos in The City?” said one of the Desperados to the proprietress.

“Fancy that day,” the proprietress said and held up the Momo’s arm and indicated the metal bracelets.

“She’s got two more around her ankles. All I got to do is say ‘Freeze’ and these things stop her right where she is. This one ain’t going nowhere for no rights.” A few Desperados at the bar laughed. Two sitting at a booth in the corner didn’t.

EIGHTEEN - Pursuit

Arous stood over Chara’s sleeping form. His snoring was a relief from his constant chatter.

She stood to see if he’d sense her presence and wake.

He didn’t.

She uncovered her hoveh craft. By activating the hoveh lift, it retracted its four legs so that it floated off the ground with only a chirp. She pushed it out of the shed.

“Good morning,” she said even though it was just past midnight. It hummed like a Tibetan singing bowl and began to glow. She jumped in and disappeared into the dark.



Chara sighed and cocked one eye open.

He sucked back in and shut his eye when he saw us standing on his dock.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s okay,” said the Diofe.

“Maybe not for her?” Chara asked him.

I nodded.

“Her mother, huh?”

I nodded again.

“Her birth father?” he began.

“Expects her,” finished the Diofe.

“That rascal,” Chara said.

“That’s one way to put it,” I said.

“Yes,” said the Diofe. “He’ll be waiting. But so am I.”



Arous didn’t know how long she’d been driving. It wasn’t long enough to be dried out from her mid-night swim across the Alippiana just hours before.

“Open to the sky,” she said.

The top came rolling down, over and behind her. The sun was rising behind her. She’d heard about sunrises, but never seen one. There were no sunrises in the Bowl, just lighting and nighting.

A memory of my voice called to her. “We didn’t even have the moon until we got you. The Diofe opened the Bowl up to the moon just for you.” It was true. There was no need for sunlight in the Bowl; the Diofe is our light.



The wind around, the sun above: everything struck her. The way eased along, never mind the elements. No speed limits, no time constraints, one direction and first sunrise.

The sunrise disappointed her. It wasn’t as sparkling dramatic as lighting, where light began emanating from everything: trees, bushes, poisajos, grass, rocks and you, if you were caught out in it. Like broke out from everything, bounced around and covered the whole bowl.

“Lighting,” she sighed. It was the first thing she began to appreciate, she began to miss.

She imagined herself shimmering heat. Short trees and shrubs dotted the highway. She squinted; the wind felt like stinging needles against her eyes.

“Shade,” she said, “for my eyes and against the wind.”

An invisible shadow emerged from the dash of her hoveh, shaded her eyes from sun and wind. It formed a thin strip around her head from ear to ear, covering her eyes.



She was only hours from Plateau’s Edge and the desert beyond and the crimson sun was climbing back down the sky. She looked forward to the desert; she had only seen it in books. She was close. The air was much drier and the few trees that were left were small and scruffy.

She pulled over.

“Rest.”

The hoveh floated up and the supports came down; it rested. Arous rubbed her eyes, her neck and swam her arms through the air. She slid out of the car.

She looked to the west. The sun was close to earth. To the north, she could see birds circling in the air. They climbed higher and higher, dropped down then resumed their climb. They circled around, around, down, up, up, up. Around, around, down, up, up.

Arous reclined onto the hood of the hoveh. She stared up toward the sky; the sun blinded her. She shut her eyes.

She didn’t have to move, she didn’t have to do anything. She felt guilty and free all at the same time – but couldn’t decide which feeling was more awkward. Arous felt the heat on her arms, face, legs – dry, parched heat.

She began to reach out to me.

“She’s -” I began to say and she slammed the door. “Edwi?”

“Arcadia is watching her.”

Arous just stared at the sky watching the clouds float overhead.

Her eyes fluttered and were still.

She woke up with a start. The sun was closer to the edge. The wind brisked and cooled.



“She needs to find a place to stay,” Edlawit was about to panic. “She won’t let me talk to her. If she gets caught in the dark, she’ll start glowing and who knows what will happen if someone sees her.”

“We have friends close,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

“Miguel, who is that behind her?”



She bolted upright. Dizzy. She shivered and was hit with a slight nausea. She slid off the hood.

A truck sat right behind her hoveh. She froze. It was a faded red, wheeled vehicle with round lights. The white wall tires were dingy. The windows were dark and she couldn’t see in. She flattened her hand against the hoveh door. It clicked open. The hoveh craft began to hum as it recognized its driver in the front seat. The truck behind her turned its lights on.

“Go. Go, now!” The hoveh lurched forward. The speed pinned her to the seat for the next 15 seconds, her breath taken away.

“Review onscreen. Audible distance, please.”

“.625 kilometer and farther. Object not gaining and not in pursuit.”

Arous looked at the screen and saw the lights getting farther and farther away in a hurry. The truck stood still.

She detected a faint neon glow ahead of her in the dusk.

“Object now incalculable,” said the hoveh.

“What?”

Arous looked on screen. The truck had disappeared.

“Hoveh, what was that?” she asked.

“It was a 1950 Ford F-1 with a V-8 engine-” said the hoveh.

“1950?”

“Yes. It was called a ‘pick-up’ because of the open area in the back was used to pick-up -”

“Don’t bother. I don’t need a vehicular history less for something that’s over 2000 years old. Thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hoveh?”

“Yes?”

“What are the lights I see in the distance?”

“It’s a diner,” said the hoveh.

“A what?”

“Diner. They began as prefabricated but movable buildings in the 1870s in which to make food and became stationary buildings in the 1950s and grew in number until the late 1970s when they were superseded by fast food chains.”

“Fast food what?”

“Chains. C-H-A-I-N-S. They were small-” “That’s good,” said Arous. “A diner sounds find. We’ll stop there.”