A New Year

By Albert Valiaveedu

Albert Valiaveedu's final novel, A New Year, is set in a far future where things are not always how they seem. Trapped on a forgotten island, read the interweaving stories of twelve different characters trying to make sense of a confusing world. Meet Arietta Santiago, a skilled electrician at the Dead Iron Works Shipyard, Dæme Fuse, the absent leader of the island, and Verzalene Jaṭā, a talented, yet very stubborn, mariner. Premiering on Veterans Day 2020, A New Year explores the ideas of globalization and compromise in a complicated future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Albert Valiaveedu
• Release date: Oct 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393955191

Book preview

CHAPTER 10

STEAM WAS POURING OUT OF DEAD IRON. Her name was Just One More Forever, the newest project to come into the shipyard, named by a desperate captain long ago. There were 95 other people on the Cinderella shift. Decommissioning icebreakers is a nonstop job, but Just One More Forever is one of the last remaining icebreakers left. Dead Iron Works was always busy and was not kept particularly pretty. The massive workspace droned with electricity from the buzz of laser welders to the hum of steel bow plates being shifted about on magnetic cranes. Without any safety regulations, injuries were unnecessarily common in the turmoil. The shipyard had been operational around the clock for decades, now functioning only to decommission large icebreakers and convert them into lighter ‘Mola Mola’ boats.

She was almost done with her shift. Arietta’s job, as an electrician, was to check and replace the aging power components as the icebreaker was being converted. She was turning 28 in a couple of months, making her one of the oldest in her shift. She learned everything she knew from her master at Dead Iron about 5 years ago and received her license 6 months later, the minimum time required. Her master died a week after Arietta received her license; she was his last, and hardest working, apprentice.

Arietta went straight back to work after Christmas Eve, six days ago. She had no one to take her 12 to 8 a.m. shift. No one ever wants the Cinderella shift at the shipyard. Between that and her farm, Arietta was busy all day, every day. The 24/7 shift cycle allowed the shipyard to recycle the larger ships in a matter of years. There have been over 50 icebreakers that have undergone decommissioning through Dead Iron since it opened, six since Arietta had begun working there.

The Mola Mola boats were not designed to withstand anything past fishing. The Australians built the original design for them centuries ago. Mola Mola means ‘Sunfish’ in Australian.

Watch it, Zuke!

A newly painted stern plate flew past her head, dangled carelessly on a magnetic crane by a child. The reconstruction was planned to keep most parts of the icebreaker intact. However, all the aging steel had to be replaced anyway. It may have been better to build new ships from scratch.

Years ago, Dead Iron Works created Lambdanite as the base steel for a more reliable hull on the Mola Mola boats. By the time the new steel was implemented, however, people realized that Lambdanite was useless against the increasing acidity of the ocean.

Then don’t stand in the kill zone!

The only remaining land in the archipelago that was once the Desolation Islands is Grande Terre. None of the other 300 islands remains, not that any of the rest of them were ever habitable. Grande Terre is now known as Desolation Island, as it has been for nearly a century.

It was 7:35 a.m., her relief was supposed to be here 5 minutes ago, but he is usually at least 10 minutes late. Arietta decided to finish welding the fuse box for the magnetohydrodynamic drive in that time. She carefully lined the piece of Lambdanite to the mast and held the nozzle of her laser-welding gun up to the joint. Lambdanite was useless for the hull since it would deteriorate in the ocean, but the excess of scrap Lambdanite on the island meant it would be used everywhere else on the Mola Mola. The island would soon finish its last reserves of the material.

She knew that they used to produce Lambdanite at the shipyard, but it must be somewhere else that she had never been to nor had any interest in. Dead Iron Works is huge. Arietta snapped on a power bank and, with absolute precision, she pulled the trigger. Sparks were flying everywhere as she carefully lined the two parts together and guided the weld between the joints. She took her finger off the trigger for only a second to let the nozzle cool down when she heard her name behind her.

Arietta, get out of here!

He decided to show up earlier than usual.

Finally.

Desland was in his 40’s, a chubby man with large cheeks and pants that were always too loose. That’s all Arietta knew about him. She had seen him nearly every day for the past three years for about twelve seconds each day. He doesn’t look like an electrician to her; he flaunts a managerial uniform. Some managers like to gamble in electrical work but Arietta never cared enough to ask. While he had the suspicious smile of a serial killer, seeing it meant that she could finally go home.

Home.

She hiked the journey to the other side of the Courbet Peninsula, past the Village of Yurts. The path was not wide enough for motroids, not that she would ever want to ride one after work. She looked forward to the long hike. Arietta’s yurt was right on the outskirts of the Middle Farm.

The Farms are a vast area of land that provides most of the food for the island. At any given time, hundreds of people are working tirelessly to grow crops such as turnips, sugar beets, and barley for the island on the two largest farms: the Top Farm and the Middle Farm. There were also several smaller farms that are owned from anywhere between a dozen farmers or just a single farmer like Arietta. Arietta was the only farmer for her small farm, cornered between the outskirts of the Middle Farm, her yurt and the rocky shores of the ocean.

At 8:30 a.m., the Middle Farm was at its busiest. The only visible area of the Middle Farm from the road was filled with little flowers. Clovers. They had just begun to bloom. The people of the island had no access to fertilizer, so they followed a rotational system used before fertilizer became popular, the Norfolk four-course system. In order to keep the soil healthy, they grow different crops at every season on different quarters of the field. This is the fifth time Arietta had seen clovers being grown in the farm.

Arietta strolled along the 6-mile trail around the Middle Farm to reach her small cabbage patch. On the way, she untied her tight bun to let her brunette hair catch the turbulent wind. Her fair skin was berated by the harsh weather of the island over the years. The toll of exhaustion was beginning to show on her face.

With a half-acre parcel of land, she was one of the last growers of Kerguelen cabbage on the island. This was not surprising. Although the cabbage could self-pollinate, which made farming the plant easy on the windy island, and had a good source of vitamin C and potassium, the plant grew at a painfully slow rate, which is why most farmers avoid it altogether. But not Arietta. She was going to harvest several of them today.

She eventually reached her farm to find a penguin gnawing at one of her largest cabbages. It did not seem to notice her. Penguins do not fear humans. Arietta rolled up her black denim jeans, sprinted and kicked the penguin, punting it several feet. The penguin jumped back up and quickly scurried away. They were resilient creatures and there were probably many more of them around. Penguins are generally late sleepers, so Arietta came just early enough before the culprit completely consumed her stock. Arietta knew that she deserved it. Her farm was very close to the ocean and she was warned about the growing penguin problem. The penguins have been moving in from the other parts of the island for years now, migrating in flocks from the Antarctic. She had been meaning to build a barbed wire fence but never got around to it.

Arietta Santiago proceeded to the damaged cabbage. It wasn’t too badly destroyed, most likely still profitable. Kerguelen cabbage is a delicacy. Arietta began harvesting some of the other cabbages that had grown large. She would have to be at work again at 11:30 p.m., probably missing the booms yet again. She definitely would not have the time to put up a fence today.

She struck the sickle into the dirt. With such a small population, the island was in a bad position of never having enough food yet still having a lot of space. The climate made it difficult for most types of vegetation to grow and cabbage seeds were always few and hard to come by. Years ago, the Top Farm used seed capsules to grow plants, but it has been a long time since any seed capsules have arrived on the island.

Arietta decided that she wasn’t going to sell the cabbage. She began pulling the heart-shaped seeds out of the damaged plant. When she was young, Arietta would plant the seeds of the sick cabbage that people cannot eat, because taking out the seeds destroys the cabbage and she wouldn’t be able to sell it. Why destroy good cabbage when you can destroy sick cabbage? After a few harvests, almost all her stock stopped growing. She learned her lesson. Arietta had forgotten the taste of the cabbage; it has been years since she’s last been able to cook it.

There aren’t as many people around like there used to be, is there? A man seemingly appeared next to Arietta. She did not recognize him and Arietta could recognize everyone on the island. She was especially concerned because she didn’t see him walking up from the road.

Who are you? she asked cautiously.

You don’t remember me? Peter? A flash of recognition ran through her veins, but she did not express it. His curly brown hair and caramel skin was not particularly conspicuous. Arietta met Peter for the first time six days ago, on Christmas morning. He looked different now, a little taller and healthier.

Well you don’t have to be here. She went back to picking seeds out of the cabbage. She really wanted him here. He knew that.

How are things at the shipyard?

It’s the same as they have always been. I feel more exhausted every time I get off my shift, she complained. How long are you going to be here for?

Oh, I’m not staying long. I came just to talk to you.

I meant on the island.

As long as necessary.

Well, I’m fine, thank you. Have you talked to Novianell? Arietta picked up her sickle and tore into the unbroken ground. She understood on Christmas that Simon Peter was a form of divine intervention or just in her head. She