Day 42 - Babel - Chapter 4 (1526 words)

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BABEL

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 4

George sat up for most of the night watching the ship pass through the sky, his watch still worked and he had kept it to keep track of the days and nights passing. There was no such thing as daylight saving anymore, there was not much of anything official like that, no one to run it and no one to enforce it. At around 5 a.m. Not long before dawn, as the sky was beginning to lighten, the ship was just leaving sight when the next one appeared. Following on in the same path, the same size and the same shape, though a different hue from the emanations from the hull they could see in the sky above. He was not the only one watching and waiting in the dark more than half of the residents could not sleep, they huddle in houses and buildings hastily built or thrown together, some marginally better than tents, all being worked on to upgrade the life in the community. Those with less developed homes were the ones unable to calmly accept this new development, though some of the more established Babel who had settled in were out there looking up as well.

There was no explanation or context and the second ship had passed over before midday had come, eagle eyes spotting a third and a fourth in the distance travelling a different vector, but heading to the same destination. Each of the ships was a different colour, lit perhaps in specific ways or maybe indicative of an aesthetic sensibility in the alien race.

They had to be aliens, it didn't seem possible that anything else was at work. A mystery illness, a loss of a major sense or skill and then an invasion. George's mind went to Day of the Triffids and was pleased that it was not blindness that ailed them, softened them for the invasion. The loss of language was grim sure, but it just made them hard to unify and work as one. Blindness would have seriously incapacitated the bulk of humanity in a callous and inhuman way. Did he need to make a run to the sea, stock up on salt water for the inevitable alien versus human showdown? It seemed ridiculous, but considering the last year or more, it could not be ruled out.

This seemed humane, odd to attribute that which is human to a subject which was undoubtedly not. Yet here they were, adrift and fending for themselves in small groups of like minded individuals, a living embodiment of the communist ideal, but without any of the humanity issues of ideas, communicated to influence others. That was possibly the most generous way of looking at it, but it also felt more like daycare for a hobbled humanity, freedom was ensured well enough but that freedom could only be exercised so far if you wanted to live without an excess of risk and fear. George had seen first hand how some Babel had barricaded themselves into bolt holes in the city, guns and traps their only companionship and entrenched in the desire to protect what they are, where they are and do that at all costs. That way was dangerous, maddening and selfish. Maybe it was not maddening at all, maybe the madness drove them to that life, not the life driving them to madness. It was hard to say, the Few that he had encountered in the city were not interested in explaining their position, just defending it. The Babel in similar bunkered lifestyles were just as reticent, mostly because they were unable to express it, but even if they had the power they would have been the same as those who could explain, but chose not to.

George wondered what the city-dwellers would make of the ships, they would be on them soon enough. Paranoia was already a watch word, what would these hulking behemoths defying gravity and physics to float gently and inexorably towards the biggest city in the country. Was there more heading south to Wellington? Christchurch, or even Hamilton? What would they find there, would they ever want to know.

There was certainly an appeal to burying your head in the sand and trusting to fate, after all if these things whatever they were wanted them dead would they not be dead? They had reached across space and remove the very power of speech and understanding from their heads, they had these hulking ships obviously capable of so much, if they wanted them dead then could they not have just killed them already? George had no idea how much of humanity was left, what chaos and what mania had gripped the cities in this country alone scared him to flee to the countryside, to get away from the madness, to have the others fleeing the insanity find him and find stability too. What of those left behind, there were still people living and eking out a vicious existence, but how many he could not tell. The last trip to the city was the one he promised himself would be the last. It was such a drama to help even one person, it was impossible to help them all,and to gain their trust? Inconceivable that anyone would simply open up and learn how to interact, it took days at a time to integrate anyone into the most basic part of Fire-village or one of the other community areas. After months they had a rhythm and a mechanical cadence to life, that enabled them to build, simple structures to house and care for strays, soon expanding to complex and serviced buildings, with limited power and plumbing. Skills came and were discovered, mostly by doing them, people could illustrate their area of knowledge, demonstrate things they knew how to do without any assistance from manuals or instructions.

Life was not like that in the City, or if it was it was nowhere that he saw. Maybe some tighter knit communities banded together well and made a go of it, but it was something he did not stick around to see. People who fled the cities, most likely Auckland and heading this way, he knew were glad to be out of it, and were fleeing those problems he guessed were endemic. What would they be thinking now?

Would these aliens make an appearance in person? What did they want and what were they going to do. Only the Few could ever ask them, if they even spoke any of the languages we do of course, though George. The Few in the City would be the shoot first and ask questions later types. He rubbed the side of his arm where he had been hit by some flying debris, kicked up from a bullet hitting a concrete wall near where he was leaning. That had been a warning shot, he ran away from that place as fast as he could, back the way he came and not venturing to the city again, not stopping until he reached the car. He drove with the lights off, at night by the moonlight willing to risk running into anyone else, but meeting no one.

The car lay unattended, untouched for 6 months in a barn near the original farm house down by the road. Some of the Babel took watch there, looking for strays and stragglers who needed help, or looked like they did. Not many made it out this far any more, and the last intake was the one that brought the latest of the Few, Richard (Mountain) and he had brought with him a ragged group that formed the core of the new Mountain-village community. They had integrated well with the others, a good mix of skills and some balance was brought in by the Few together, but they had been the only newbies in weeks. They had seen virtually no one else since leaving the city, they had been holed up in a school and had to defend their territory from raiders, one at a time, but living on constant alert had taken a psychological toll on Richard (Mountain) and he had led his few dozen people to a bus, siphoned fuel from abandoned cars and drove north and inland, heading for warmer air and safer and more elevated positions.

The Mountain-village community allowed him the relationship he wanted with another human being who wanted nothing from him, Jane (Tree) was perfect in that respect. She already had her dependencies. His position on the hill overlooking the farm house, and back to Fire and Water settled him immensely. The idea of a a casual relationship, sex on a regular basis without the need for dependency and the the intimacy of conversation, let alone the idea of being a father was alien to him prior to him meeting George, and finding the Community.

George waited until a few days had past, no more ships were seen and the mood in the community went back to what it had been before hand. With no way to really discuss what they had seen, there was a feeling like nothing had even happened.

But it had.