For a few months I made a habit of writing 300 or more words a day, on any subject I wished, and the exercise yielded some interesting results. This is one such, and It's the beginning of a story I might one day finish.
See how long it takes you to figure out what inspired it.
See how long it takes you to figure out what inspired it.
Sabi
by Sandra Kishi Glenn
Sabi awoke in the dark, cuddled against her mother's warm breast. Had she heard
something, a faint snick somewhere in the room, or simply dreamed it?
But her mother's breathing remained deep and slow, as did the others' sleeping nearby on the massed cushions, their bellies still full of the fruit which magically appeared in the bowls every day. Noria snored softly, and the old one named Loban, too...and he always woke up at the slightest sound.
Sabi closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She was hungry. She'd been ill today and hadn't eaten anything at the sunset meal. But she felt better now, and would have quietly fetched something to eat from the table, if she wasn't so comfortable in her mother's arms.
Snick. There it was again, and this time she heard it clearly, followed by soft footfalls. She
forced her eyes open.
The large hall was dark, with only starlight coming through the skylights far overhead. Several ghostly shapes approached from the gloom, hunched forms with eyes that glowed like fireflies. Sabi's breath caught in her throat, and she kicked her mother's thigh to wake her. But her mother would not stir. Now the ghastly creatures were among the sleeping throng, communicating between themselves with gestures and short whispers, as they worked in pairs to lift some of the older members of her tribe. Why didn't they wake up?
When two of them moved in her direction, Sabi cried out involuntarily. They stopped for a moment, and gestured toward her. Cold, strong hands gripped her from behind, and she screamed then; a high, keening child's scream that echoed in the vast, ancient room. “Ama! Ama!” she wailed. Mother! Mother! She was raised and held tightly by an arm around her waist, her back pressed against the cool, clammy skin of an unseen captor, whose hateful smell was a blend of perspiration and soot. When a hand clamped over her mouth she bit down, hard. The creature made an angry grunt and withdrew the hand, roughly shook her.
She was swiftly carried to a corner of the hall, where two squares of blackness loomed in the murky dark. Her captor plunged into the smaller of these, and her screams were amplified by the acoustics of a narrow passageway. With that small part of her brain not engaged in trying to wriggle free, she dimly sensed she was being taken downward. Now and again the way turned back on itself, as it descended.
Down, down they plunged. The lightless air grew moist and warm. At one point the creature cuffed her into silence, stunning her. When she regained her senses, she began to cry. “Ama!”
Now at last they came to a vast open space, a little brighter than the passage. Her eyes registered faint green luminescence above her, and all around were bizarre angular shapes and a great many of the lamp-eyed creatures. The air was redolent with perspiration, and the acrid, mechanical musk of oil. She heard a rhythmic thumping which was totally foreign to her innocent ears.
As the beast carried her with surprising speed along an elevated gangway, she was able to look down on pens containing groups of People. They were huddled together—some crying, some moaning—as the pale brutes stood guard, holding what looked like sticks which crackled with lightning when thrust into the pens.This produced squeals of pain and fear from the victims.
Her captor turned a corner and opened a door. Inside was a small room, the far half of which was a cell with metal bars. Sabi was roughly thrust into this and the barred opening clanged shut. Without looking back, the creature left the room and closed the door behind it.
In the sudden silence she huddled in a corner and wept. Eventually, she tired of that. She wiped her eyes.
A globe mounted on the ceiling cast a dim light in the room. But aside from the metal bars of the cell and the luminous globe, there was not much to see. She did, however, recognize the gleaming stainless steel toilet and drinking fountain, as such things were also present in the great halls her people slept in. She knew their use, if not their proper names.
“Ama san?” she whimpered. Mother, where are you?
-----
First Director Siri Gama entered the observation room, accompanied by the worker who had captured the unusual specimen. There it lay curled in the corner; afraid, but surprisingly alert.
“Tell me again how you brought this one to me,” she told the worker.
“We were on a reaping--”
“Of which herd?”
“From Paddock 2, between H and G air wells, First Director.”
“Continue,” she said.
“The herd had eaten the drugged fruit, but this one was awake. We feared it might rouse the others, and were prepared to cull it. But then we saw...”
“Yes?” Siri demanded, curtly.
The worker pointed. “It's a sport, First Director. Look at it.”
Siri adjusted the lensed goggles on her large eyes, and peered closer.
It was female, and indeed highly unusual. Its budding breasts made it about eight years old, and thus nearly mature, but it was noticeably larger than normal. Also, its head was oddly shaped, with a taller forehead and differently-shaped eyes. Fuller lips, too. It was more muscular.
“When I picked it up, it struggled and bit me,” the worker said in disbelief. The flight response was actually a desirable trait—it produced fitter specimens—but once caught, cattle ceased to struggle, having long been bred to exhibit the surrender reflex. It made reaping so much easier.
“How curious,” mused Siri. “You may go.”
“Yes, First Director.”
Siri stood rapt in thought, remembering an odd event that had occurred when she was only a Floor Supervisor, nearly a decade ago, when they had discovered an alien machine in that very paddock, and fought off a monstrous, fire-wielding monster. Both it and the machine had disappeared without a trace, about the time of this creature's parturition. Was there a connection?
-----
Sabi watched the two horrible creatures enter the room, one standing more erect than the other and having dark, bulging eyes like an insect. Unlike the short one, it wore clothing, though of a very different kind from the soft, brightly colored tunics worn by People. As they conversed in guttural sounds their combined gaze seemed to pin her to the wall. Presently the shorter, uglier one left.
Then, to her amazement, the remaining creature spoke Language.
“Rana sa?” it asked in a soft voice. What is your name?
The placating tone and familiar language were enough to provoke an answer, despite her terror.
“Sabi,” she said.
“Ama do sa, Sabi?” Who is your mother?
“ Ama waaaa! Ama!” she wailed. I want Mother!
The pale, erect creature repeated the question several times, shushing her in a strangely maternal way.
Finally Sabi relented, hoping to be taken home again.
“Ama Weena.”
-----
Weena.
This could prove a useful datum for Siri's investigation, or at least help cull an undesirable mutation if no link could be established with the machine-monster. Of course the workers didn't bother naming cattle, as it was simple enough to use the names they gave themselves, when distinction was necessary. Which wasn't often.
The question remained, then, of what to do with this specimen. Siri asked it to name its father. “Apa do sa?” But she had little hope of an answer. Cattle didn't understand the concepts of reproduction, or paternity, and the word “apa” essentially meant “adult male.” As expected, the little beast couldn't—or wouldn't—answer.
Siri opened the room's speaking tube and instructed the floor supervisor to hold the cattle reaped from Sabi's paddock in a separate pen until further orders. That taken care of, she returned her attention to the immature sport.
It appeared healthy, active...but markedly different, and unusually alert in its captivity. While this was interesting, such a mutation would unnecessarily complicate their management.
Siri used the tube again to have food brought for it. But the little beast was in no mood to feed, at least while under observation, so the First Director left the room.
She went to check on the others from that herd, being kept in pen F-12. She watched the five huddled specimens for a while, and spoke to the handlers who were monitoring them. There was nothing unusual about this batch. When queried, the one called Weena did not appear to be among their number. “Process them,” Siri ordered. Her answers would not be found here.
On returning to the holding cell, Siri found the fruit had been eaten and its rind torn to pieces and thrown about the room. How curious! Never before had she seen such rebellion in cattle.
What to do with the little monster? She did not look forward to explaining the presence of a sport among the herds under her supervision. Perhaps it should be destroyed. With a single command, she could have the thing slaughtered and sent to her kitchens. But that might obscure important information, which could be crucial if the matter came under the unwelcome scrutiny of her superiors. Which, eventually, it must.
No, this required further study. Her career, and maybe her life, would depend on the answers she could unearth. For now, though, prudence demanded secrecy, and she ordered a tray of drugged fruit. When the thing was asleep she would take it to a discreet location and have her assistant, Mirduc, tend it. He could be trusted.
And then she must speak to the Technical Supervisor about that strange machine from so many years ago. Siri's instincts told her that was the vector along which her answers lay.
Siri did not like unknowns.
© 2012 Sandra Kishi Glenn, all rights reserved.
by Sandra Kishi Glenn
Sabi awoke in the dark, cuddled against her mother's warm breast. Had she heard
something, a faint snick somewhere in the room, or simply dreamed it?
But her mother's breathing remained deep and slow, as did the others' sleeping nearby on the massed cushions, their bellies still full of the fruit which magically appeared in the bowls every day. Noria snored softly, and the old one named Loban, too...and he always woke up at the slightest sound.
Sabi closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She was hungry. She'd been ill today and hadn't eaten anything at the sunset meal. But she felt better now, and would have quietly fetched something to eat from the table, if she wasn't so comfortable in her mother's arms.
Snick. There it was again, and this time she heard it clearly, followed by soft footfalls. She
forced her eyes open.
The large hall was dark, with only starlight coming through the skylights far overhead. Several ghostly shapes approached from the gloom, hunched forms with eyes that glowed like fireflies. Sabi's breath caught in her throat, and she kicked her mother's thigh to wake her. But her mother would not stir. Now the ghastly creatures were among the sleeping throng, communicating between themselves with gestures and short whispers, as they worked in pairs to lift some of the older members of her tribe. Why didn't they wake up?
When two of them moved in her direction, Sabi cried out involuntarily. They stopped for a moment, and gestured toward her. Cold, strong hands gripped her from behind, and she screamed then; a high, keening child's scream that echoed in the vast, ancient room. “Ama! Ama!” she wailed. Mother! Mother! She was raised and held tightly by an arm around her waist, her back pressed against the cool, clammy skin of an unseen captor, whose hateful smell was a blend of perspiration and soot. When a hand clamped over her mouth she bit down, hard. The creature made an angry grunt and withdrew the hand, roughly shook her.
She was swiftly carried to a corner of the hall, where two squares of blackness loomed in the murky dark. Her captor plunged into the smaller of these, and her screams were amplified by the acoustics of a narrow passageway. With that small part of her brain not engaged in trying to wriggle free, she dimly sensed she was being taken downward. Now and again the way turned back on itself, as it descended.
Down, down they plunged. The lightless air grew moist and warm. At one point the creature cuffed her into silence, stunning her. When she regained her senses, she began to cry. “Ama!”
Now at last they came to a vast open space, a little brighter than the passage. Her eyes registered faint green luminescence above her, and all around were bizarre angular shapes and a great many of the lamp-eyed creatures. The air was redolent with perspiration, and the acrid, mechanical musk of oil. She heard a rhythmic thumping which was totally foreign to her innocent ears.
As the beast carried her with surprising speed along an elevated gangway, she was able to look down on pens containing groups of People. They were huddled together—some crying, some moaning—as the pale brutes stood guard, holding what looked like sticks which crackled with lightning when thrust into the pens.This produced squeals of pain and fear from the victims.
Her captor turned a corner and opened a door. Inside was a small room, the far half of which was a cell with metal bars. Sabi was roughly thrust into this and the barred opening clanged shut. Without looking back, the creature left the room and closed the door behind it.
In the sudden silence she huddled in a corner and wept. Eventually, she tired of that. She wiped her eyes.
A globe mounted on the ceiling cast a dim light in the room. But aside from the metal bars of the cell and the luminous globe, there was not much to see. She did, however, recognize the gleaming stainless steel toilet and drinking fountain, as such things were also present in the great halls her people slept in. She knew their use, if not their proper names.
“Ama san?” she whimpered. Mother, where are you?
-----
First Director Siri Gama entered the observation room, accompanied by the worker who had captured the unusual specimen. There it lay curled in the corner; afraid, but surprisingly alert.
“Tell me again how you brought this one to me,” she told the worker.
“We were on a reaping--”
“Of which herd?”
“From Paddock 2, between H and G air wells, First Director.”
“Continue,” she said.
“The herd had eaten the drugged fruit, but this one was awake. We feared it might rouse the others, and were prepared to cull it. But then we saw...”
“Yes?” Siri demanded, curtly.
The worker pointed. “It's a sport, First Director. Look at it.”
Siri adjusted the lensed goggles on her large eyes, and peered closer.
It was female, and indeed highly unusual. Its budding breasts made it about eight years old, and thus nearly mature, but it was noticeably larger than normal. Also, its head was oddly shaped, with a taller forehead and differently-shaped eyes. Fuller lips, too. It was more muscular.
“When I picked it up, it struggled and bit me,” the worker said in disbelief. The flight response was actually a desirable trait—it produced fitter specimens—but once caught, cattle ceased to struggle, having long been bred to exhibit the surrender reflex. It made reaping so much easier.
“How curious,” mused Siri. “You may go.”
“Yes, First Director.”
Siri stood rapt in thought, remembering an odd event that had occurred when she was only a Floor Supervisor, nearly a decade ago, when they had discovered an alien machine in that very paddock, and fought off a monstrous, fire-wielding monster. Both it and the machine had disappeared without a trace, about the time of this creature's parturition. Was there a connection?
-----
Sabi watched the two horrible creatures enter the room, one standing more erect than the other and having dark, bulging eyes like an insect. Unlike the short one, it wore clothing, though of a very different kind from the soft, brightly colored tunics worn by People. As they conversed in guttural sounds their combined gaze seemed to pin her to the wall. Presently the shorter, uglier one left.
Then, to her amazement, the remaining creature spoke Language.
“Rana sa?” it asked in a soft voice. What is your name?
The placating tone and familiar language were enough to provoke an answer, despite her terror.
“Sabi,” she said.
“Ama do sa, Sabi?” Who is your mother?
“ Ama waaaa! Ama!” she wailed. I want Mother!
The pale, erect creature repeated the question several times, shushing her in a strangely maternal way.
Finally Sabi relented, hoping to be taken home again.
“Ama Weena.”
-----
Weena.
This could prove a useful datum for Siri's investigation, or at least help cull an undesirable mutation if no link could be established with the machine-monster. Of course the workers didn't bother naming cattle, as it was simple enough to use the names they gave themselves, when distinction was necessary. Which wasn't often.
The question remained, then, of what to do with this specimen. Siri asked it to name its father. “Apa do sa?” But she had little hope of an answer. Cattle didn't understand the concepts of reproduction, or paternity, and the word “apa” essentially meant “adult male.” As expected, the little beast couldn't—or wouldn't—answer.
Siri opened the room's speaking tube and instructed the floor supervisor to hold the cattle reaped from Sabi's paddock in a separate pen until further orders. That taken care of, she returned her attention to the immature sport.
It appeared healthy, active...but markedly different, and unusually alert in its captivity. While this was interesting, such a mutation would unnecessarily complicate their management.
Siri used the tube again to have food brought for it. But the little beast was in no mood to feed, at least while under observation, so the First Director left the room.
She went to check on the others from that herd, being kept in pen F-12. She watched the five huddled specimens for a while, and spoke to the handlers who were monitoring them. There was nothing unusual about this batch. When queried, the one called Weena did not appear to be among their number. “Process them,” Siri ordered. Her answers would not be found here.
On returning to the holding cell, Siri found the fruit had been eaten and its rind torn to pieces and thrown about the room. How curious! Never before had she seen such rebellion in cattle.
What to do with the little monster? She did not look forward to explaining the presence of a sport among the herds under her supervision. Perhaps it should be destroyed. With a single command, she could have the thing slaughtered and sent to her kitchens. But that might obscure important information, which could be crucial if the matter came under the unwelcome scrutiny of her superiors. Which, eventually, it must.
No, this required further study. Her career, and maybe her life, would depend on the answers she could unearth. For now, though, prudence demanded secrecy, and she ordered a tray of drugged fruit. When the thing was asleep she would take it to a discreet location and have her assistant, Mirduc, tend it. He could be trusted.
And then she must speak to the Technical Supervisor about that strange machine from so many years ago. Siri's instincts told her that was the vector along which her answers lay.
Siri did not like unknowns.
© 2012 Sandra Kishi Glenn, all rights reserved.
