Observing the Inevitable: The Inevitable Series, #2

By Joshua B Coleman

Their ancestors had set out to create an autonomous, unified community to protect themselves from conflict. Now that they are long passed, the community's culture of unity can't shield it from the developing opinions within the group. The divide only grows as members push each other to the edge in the name of maintaining unity.

 

An island-sized thunder cube sits outside their home, waiting to explode, while they struggle to keep the group together. Taluson thinks their goal to mine the floating element is not worth their lives. After generations of work, Jenorak won't stop until they've reached it. The leaders become the figureheads of the two sides.

 

Each member pursues the truth about the group, only to find a blurry line between right and wrong. They find themselves caught in a divide they want no part of. Yet the members are forced to choose a side: stay or leave, live or die.

 

Observing the Inevitable is a Sci-Fi/Fantasy novel, exploring themes around group conflict, control, and culture. Readers of literary fiction will also appreciate the story since it is heavily ingrained with thought provoking content. This is the story of a group, not a single character. Told through the perspective of many people, it emphasizes the complexities and challenges of membership as the colony is forced to decide their fate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joshua B Coleman
• Release date: Apr 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393374732

Book preview

Observing the Inevitable

by Joshua B Coleman

There is a group of people that showed me

something very different in life.

Without them, this book would not be.

Thank you for the experience—I am sorry for how we parted.

To the Reader

This book is about a group consisting of almost two hundred people. Though you won’t meet all of them, there are still over thirty characters that have names and who often recur within the book. I have provided a Character List at the end of the book to help you keep track of all of them. It details names, genders, ages, relationships, and minor character traits and events that won’t spoil the story.

You can learn more about my projects and contact me directly at https://joshuabcoleman.com. I have dedicated a huge amount of time into this series, and if you think it's great, I'd love to hear from you. If you think it can be better, well sometimes I like to hear that kind of feedback, too.

Joshua B Coleman

Observing the Inevitable is the second book in The Inevitable Series, which explores the collapse of a group, the rediscovery of their identities, and what reconciliation truly means. For more information about the series, and to read the next book, visit:

https://joshuabcoleman.com/books

Subscribe to Joshua B Coleman’s email updates about his future projects. https://joshuabcoleman.com

Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

To the Reader

More from the Author

Character List

Prologue

1. Revelation

2. A Chance for Hope

3. Children

4. Tenakin’s Theory

5. Demand for Answers

6. A New Tunnel

7. The Crack

8. Harvesters

9. Racing Stones

10. Merely a Distraction

11. A Floating Cart

12. Enough

13. Hidden Things

14. Secret Plans

15. Family Division

16. The Secret of the Cubes

17. Pursuit

18. Into Darkness

19. Stuck

20. Down Below

21. A Cube in the Hand

22. Taluson’s Rise

23. Slip of the Pocket

24. Determine the Danger

25. To End Misery

26. Consider Leaving

27. Pursuing a Promise

28. Practice Flying

29. Angry Parents

30. Preparing to Leave

31. To the Cube

32. Answers

33. Celebration

34. An Invitation to Help

35. Reconciliation

36. The Flatlands

37. Story Night

38. The Big Tree

39. Imagining the World

40. Socasak’s Surprise

41. Gone

42. Eavesdropping

43. Motivations for Leaving

44. Counter-Productive

45. Zek’s Old Woman

46. Exhausted Harvesters

47. Overworked

48. Scratching a Wound

49. A Journey Together

50. Key Members

51. Accident in the Mines

52. Save the Boy

53. Tenakin’s Mistake

54. Lies

55. Unforgiveness

56. The Price of Icathial

57. Too Old for Hope

58. Family Troubles

59. Misplaced Anger

60. Empty Bargains

61. Fury

62. Time to Fight

63. A Fractured Colony

64. Get Out

65. The Beacon

66. Drifting

67. Sorrow

68. Separation

69. Hiding from Pain

70. Broken

71. Rushed

72. The First and Last Goodbye

73. The End of Unity

74. A New World

More from the Author

Character List

Acknowledgments

Copyright Page

Prologue

Teka watched the sky as clouds shrouded the few remaining stars she could see. A cool wind blew in from the mountains, and she adjusted her cloak. The flickering shadows of the group danced around her as she waited outside the members circling the fires. Light from the four fires cast up the sandy slopes around where they camped for the night. At the top of the large dimple in the ground, four members watched the darkened desert with vigilant eyes.

They took no risks with the unknown wildlife, and several members stayed up through the night ready to call alarm. With one spook many nights ago, an edge of fear still loomed over the dark nights, whether there was a thing to be feared or not.

Beside Teka, an unusual plant grew—its white, flexible flesh swelled in size as if filling a lung. There were several others around the group, all at various sizes, but none larger than a pace wide. Finally, the bulbous plant beside her had its fill and began to moan softly as air escaped it.

She smiled at the sound. All around, the plants were sighing, as if the desert itself was sad. She had cut one open earlier, with some difficulty, and found a strange element in the center. In her journal, she had written:

Element in center lets off gas. Smells of constant petrichor. Plant looks to breathe. Flexible flesh, too chewy to eat. Used to make stretcher for Desupon. She is too sick to walk.

As a final note, she flipped to the rough map she was drawing and titled the area they were traversing Sorrowful Desert. She smiled again. These had to be the silliest plants she had ever encountered—and even with her knowledge of elements, she didn’t know what the porous element was in the plants’ centers. The world was certainly full of surprises.

She rubbed at her dry eyes. This journey had been grueling—the hunger, the sore feet, the sun exposure. Only now that they were nearing the last leg could she enjoy the things around her. Her muscles were used to walking, her skin leathery from the sun, her stomach accustomed to smaller portions. But perhaps the worst was yet to come.

She watched in the direction of the mountain range. Just the other day, they had seen the top of the legendary Big Tree. Some still doubted that they saw the tree, which was said to grow taller than the mountain beside it, but she was certain of what they had seen. Perhaps, in two days, they would know for sure.

Beyond that was the flatlands—where nothing lived for days upon days of traveling. Travelers had claimed to have crossed it in thirty days, but the one she believed the most said he had done it in thirty-three. They would need thirty-three days’ worth of food and live off rainwater until reaching the Thunder Coast: the inevitable end of their journey.

Somewhere on that coast, there was an entire hill of icathial, a rare element that floated and glowed blue in the night. Few people believed it was real—even Teka thought it was a story to fantasize over until a night she would never forget.

A traveler at the time was passing through and had asked for food and board in exchange for stories. The colony agreed to take him in for a few days, and he told many great tales of places he had been. It wasn’t until his last night, after a great debate with himself, that he showed the group a single pebble of icathial. Teka could still picture the quieted room as all eyes stared at the tiny, glowing element floating in front of the man. He said he found it on the Thunder Coast and had come across a single hill among the lifeless stone. He said that the stone all around had a faint blue glow to it, as if a trick of the eyes. But he knew under that hill was a vast treasure of icathial. The night ended with his declaration: A hill for miners, like yourselves, to reap from, not some poor traveler like me.

Teka tried to clear the thoughts from her mind and she shuffled uneasily in the sand, looking at the group circling the fire farthest from her. She had to be careful thinking about the past. There were too many memories there. Yet she still thought of the people they had left behind. She quickly forgot about the sighing plants and stood, stepping around the parents and children huddled around the fires. Even the sixty-five members crammed together were whispering about what they had left.

Still they questioned this journey.

She came to a stretcher lying just behind some of the other members. On it, Desupon lay there, bundled to stay warm. The girl looked up with lazy eyes as Teka came up and laid next to her. Desupon was thirteen season-cycles younger, yet it didn’t matter for their friendship.

The younger girl’s weak eyes were shrouded in shadow. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Did you get your drawing, Teka? She was the one who gave Tekadum the shortened nickname.

I did, Teka whispered. And I named the desert ‘Sorrowful Desert.’

Desupon tried to smile. I like it.

Teka propped her head up as she lay prone on the ground. They are whispering again—about whether we made the right choice.

You still think about it, too?

I miss my grandparents, Desupon. I miss them all.

Me too.

I cannot help but wonder if this journey for the floating stones is worth it—that we used icathial as an excuse to get away from what was happening. There is so much beauty here, but have we done the right thing? We left them while the valley was dying, Desupon. And for what? An element that floats? Even the children do not believe that excuse. I fear the ones we left are all dead. Teka leaned into the palm of her hand to hold back a tear at the thought of her family dying.

We will see them again, Desupon said. She struggled to keep her eyes open, until finally closing them. They have the same tenacity we have.

Teka let out a single chuckle and finished wiping her eyes. Maybe they saved the whole town by now, and we will come back with the floating stones and build a colony in the sky like the children say.

Desupon’s voice grew weaker. Just . . . worry about getting to the Big Tree right now. She took a slow breath. Towns in the sky can wait.

You are too good a friend, Teka whispered. Rest easy and get well.

She looked again in the direction of the mountain range and the Big Tree. Was this journey worth it?

The group had split from the rest of their colony, leaving them in a valley showering poison onto the land. With nowhere else to go, they set out to an unclaimed land in hopes of finding the rarest element in the world. The idea brought with it a notion of fortune, a treasure they could bring back to those they had left.

Even as Teka thought about it, she knew it was not her main motivation for leaving.

Yet it also seemed like everything leading up to this point in their journey—tumultuous as it was—was meant to be. They were miners, and a traveler happened to tell them where to dig up icathial, the rarest element in the world. The valley they lived in was dying, and somehow its danger justified their adventure. Still, in the face of sadness, she was doubtful of the decision, questioning the true value of icathial and whether they should have left at all. What were the others going to do—the ones they left at their mountain home?

She shook her head and tried to force herself to think of something positive. Desupon was always positive, even in sickness, but Teka struggled like the others to see all the good in their situation.

She opened her journal and wrote a final entry for the night. It was her attempt to see the positive side of life—whether she believed it now or not.

I am thankful for friendship and new discoveries. We will see each other again, I am sure of it.

Revelation

Unity was supposed to make everything better,

so why is everything falling apart?

Tenakin stared at the glowing, blue pebble floating above his table. This was all the icathial that the mines had produced so far—a simple pebble the size of a thumbnail. He tried touching it, but its repulsive force pushed it away from his finger. He guided the little piece higher, and it stayed floating in the air as he brought his hand away. One hundred seventeen season-cycles of work, and this was all they had to show for it.

With no lamps lit, Tenakin’s underground living quarters were almost in complete darkness. The only light seeped in from under the door, and the little piece gave off its blue glow. When no light was present at all, the stone walls would glow from residual icathial—but it was so faint, it was more like a trick of the eyes.

He tapped on the table, thinking. What was icathial really worth to the world? If it brought them wealth, what would they do with it? He could think of a few ways to use the floating stones, the icathial, but what could they trade for it? Could they trade it for a home—a mountain—a valley—the world? Would they offer it to their ancestors’ descendants and rejoin them in unity? Perhaps the better question was: What would they actually need in the world beyond the flatlands?

Where the colony lived now, they didn’t need anything. They had food, water, a home to live in—and they had each other. What more could they want? They had made so much of what was around them, and to him, it was enough.

Tenakin guided the icathial up and down, then let it hover in place again. It was an amazing element, but was it worth risking their lives for?

He sighed and wrapped his hand around the floating piece, trapping it. Its force tried pushing his hand away on all sides. Only when he squeezed as hard as possible could he actually touch the thing—its force was that strong. Getting up, he went to the counter next to the door and put it inside a cupboard. In its place, he took his ancestor’s old journal, then closed the cabinet door to hide the glowing element. Teka’s journal was precious to him because he was one of two people left in the colony who could actually read. No one else considered it a valuable skill.

The members were under so much stress to acquire more icathial. They had more and more meetings to keep peace among themselves; the people wanted to know when they could leave—when they could save themselves from the Thunder Coast. It was only a matter of time until they left, but when? The miners always said they were close to the huge sum of icathial under the hill, and surely, they would break through the hardened stone in time to save themselves from the thunder cube.

Tenakin opened the door of his living quarters and stepped into the underground courtyard. The early morning sun shone through a square skylight cut in the center of the area. Three other living quarters shared this courtyard with his—they all sat silent.

He was usually the first to rise, and the time alone was his solace. Continuing into the large hallway, he observed the peaceful morning. His footfalls echoed softly down the long corridor that connected all the rooms. To one side were all the living spaces—courtyards and living quarters, the eating hall, the recreation room, and the tiered meeting arena. The combination of rooms and living spaces was the perfect size to house the nearly two hundred members that lived there. On the other side were three narrow passageways that led to cubbies overlooking the cliff’s steep wall. Beyond that was the Thunder Ocean.

After passing the meeting arena, he turned and climbed up the chiseled stone steps and proceeded into the light of day. To his right, the morning sun was sliced in half by the horizon, and ahead of him the hill that entombed the icathial rose from the ground. From behind, the ocean exploded with noise, and a cool wind guided him up the gradual slope of the grey stone hill until he reached the top. Squinting, he looked out at the flatlands. There was nothing as far as the eye could see—only flat, grey stone shimmering in the sunlight. There were no plants, no boulders, no streams, no people—nothing. The only irregularity was the hill he stood atop.

Turning, he looked toward the steep, vertical drop of the cliff just beyond the steps he had climbed. The cliff extended infinitely to his left and right, separating the flatlands from the ocean. The untraversable waters spread across the other horizon. From the surface, it looked as if it would be impossible for anything to survive. But growing on the cliff were several kinds of plants and several creatures that could survive the exploding ocean. These resources were how the colony survived in this barren land.

Other than the orange sun, and the blue sky, everything was grey, flat, and seemingly endless. They lived in the middle of nowhere, yet they called it home. They were so secluded that the colony had never met another person outside their group, but Tenakin knew that he could live anywhere so long as he had the members by his side. Their unity was all that mattered in the end. It was the life force of everything they did, and it meant everything for their survival.

A motion in the water caught Tenakin’s eye, and he watched as two large thunder cubes emerged from below the ocean surface, pulling toward each other by their magnetic forces. Each nearly a pace wide and a dark grey color, they built up speed produced by the attractive force. Waves trailed behind them, splashing violently as the thunder cubes pulled together.

Having built up a terrifying speed, they collided. A huge dome of water exploded, sending a debris of tiny new thunder cubes into the air. Even as the erupted elements were falling back to the ocean, the small pieces began to pull together, assimilating and forming new, growing cubes. The enlarging cubes showered back into the ocean to begin the cycle again, pulling toward each other and recombining to form larger cubes. When they came together with other cubes too similar in size, the impact would create an explosion, breaking the cubes into smaller ones. The cycle went on and on like this in the noisy, dangerous waters. Eventually, all cubes would explode violently into pieces and continue the cycle—all but one.

Tenakin looked out beyond the percussion of thunder from the safety of the cliffside. For a person to go into the ocean meant a quick death, whether from a small explosion, or a large one that would send pieces clattering against the cliffside. And waiting in the distance, halfway exposed and silent, was a dark thunder cube hundreds of paces wide.

That kind of growth for a cube should never have been possible in such a violent environment. It had watched them every day for nearly two season-cycles, always growing bigger. At first it was like any other cube, first catching the members’ eyes at only a few paces wide—still an unusual sight. Now hundreds of paces, it seemed to threaten the existence of the entire coastline. An explosion from a cube that size was unimaginable, and as it grew, so did a terrible fear that it might somehow explode, obliterating everything around it.

As time went on, the fear that an explosion was inevitable grew deeper within Tenakin, and every day looking out at the cube was a reminder of that fear. The fear had become a part of who he was, and he no longer consciously thought about it as he once had. It had become an accepted part of life.

There were so many uncertainties about thunder cubes that left the members to linger on their fear. They didn’t know if thunder cubes only exploded during a collision, or whether something else could make them explode. The element was simply too dangerous to try to study, and so they could only assume the worst—and it had kept anyone from getting seriously hurt thus far. Yet debris within the ocean seemed to contact the cubes without triggering an explosion, which made people question whether they were safe to touch, so long as no cubes collided.

It was expected of Tenakin, as a problem solver for the members, to find solutions to everything, yet this was not a question he wanted to answer. He was happy assuming the worst, like all the other members, because it meant he didn’t have to endanger himself with any experiments. Too much curiosity could get a person killed.

Finally, Tenakin sat with the old journal still in hand. He rolled up the sleeves of his brown long-sleeved shirt and let the sun hit his skin. Even with the giant thunder cube outside their colony, he could still find some sense of peace sitting atop the hill, but it seemed harder to come by recently.

He watched the giant cube for a time, letting his mind wander, wondering whether or not the cube was actually a danger to them. His ancestors lived and died mining for icathial, and now a giant thunder cube was trying to force them away without it. Of all the places it could have formed, why so close to their home?

A spot in the sky caught his eye, and he watched the yekan drifting high above the ocean. The large bird never let anyone near, but they could tell it would stand at least waist high. It had thick grey feathers, a long neck, a pinkish beak, and large grabbing talons. The oldest generation knew of a second yekan, but in Tenakin’s lifetime—the last thirty-five season-cycles—there was only one. It was an ancient bird that had followed his ancestors across the flatlands over one hundred seventeen season-cycles ago. Never threatening, the creature seemed driven by curiosity. As he watched, it dove up and down with the changing winds, and headed farther into the sky above the ocean.

As it drifted, it came above the cube, keeping high above it. Even the bird seemed to understand the cube’s place in nature. It was something to be avoided, like all the other cubes crashing within the ocean. He was thankful that the bird was wise enough not to approach the cube closer than it had.

Yet even as he thought that, the bird drifted lower.

Tenakin watched in alarm as the yekan circled around in a wide, descending spiral. It was nearly a speck in the sky compared to the immensity of the cube. Large wings wavered in the light winds, and it coasted slowly down.

He felt the blood drain from his head and into his gut as he watched in a state of shock and terror. His mind assumed the worst—the bird had doomed them all. He stared out, frozen and unbelieving that the end could come from such a simple creature. With unblinking eyes, he continued to watch as the bird made a graceful landing onto the massive cube. Then . . . nothing happened.

The bird hopped around the flat surface curiously, unaware that it was on the most dangerous element around—if not the most dangerous in the world. It didn’t die, nor did Tenakin shred into pieces from a massive explosion. The yekan took back to the sky and continued to glide, unaware of its dangerous misdeeds.

This was unheard of; it was impossible. All Tenakin could do was stare in disbelief. It went against everything he believed about the thunder cubes and their volatile nature. His mind boggled, suddenly flooding with questions and searching for answers as the moment of terror eased away. A thunder cube that they could touch. Not in the history of the colony had anyone ever tried to do such a thing, but now he wondered if it had been possible all along. That was not a notion Tenakin could easily believe. Yet, in his disbelief, he recalled a simple passage from the earlier pages of the journal. A thought that was far more logical.

He nearly forgot how delicate the pages were as he frantically flipped through the book, hoping for some explanation to what he had just witnessed. After reading Teka’s journal so many times as a part of his morning ritual, he could almost remember the exact page, and a quick scan of the text brought him to the passage. It was one of the few passages that predated the original members’ journey to the Thunder Coast.

"Found a surprise patch of saliva stones during the dig. Miners passed bits out to suck on only to find the taste revolting. I examined it and found the elemental structure seems to have undergone great pressure. Does not break easily like it should. I believe pressure has changed the element. A complete reverse effect on the taste.

We have seen this once before with a force crystal exposed to great heat and then cooled. It went dormant and lost all of its elemental qualities. Placing the crystal into the detector provided no readings of any of the surrounding elements, rendering it useless. Under extreme circumstances I believe some, if not all elements may change elemental qualities, though I do not have the proof to back this claim.

Tenakin’s heart thumped loudly. He was terrified, still half expecting the thunder cube to shatter him and everything around into nothing. But this discovery could have merit. It could be a wave of new beginnings for the colony, or a lie to tide them over until their inevitable end.

A Chance for Hope

You demanded icathial from me,

so I give my life to get it.

The sun crawled into the sky, and Tenakin stared at the giant cube. The initial shock had passed, but he still couldn’t get himself to move. Could the cube be dormant—somehow safe?

His mind raced with thoughts, explanations, questions about the cubes, and more. He tried making connections about the world that he wasn’t sure even needed connecting. Did the air somehow negate a cube’s explosive forces? Or did the cubes need to be in a neutral powder solution to explode? What they called neutral powder was an element that had neutralizing properties—surrounding his little piece of icathial made it fall to the ground like a rock.

Since the entire ocean was full of neutral powder, maybe it allowed the cubes a perfect place to grow and collide, but maybe cubes act differently outside of the water. The powder negated other elements, yet somehow it allowed the magnetic forces of the thunder cubes thrive. Did cubes have to be in the water to explode?

His mind swirled with questions he had no answers to.

He had to tell the members in the next meeting. It was his responsibility to, but he didn’t want to. He’d have to stand in front of all of them and explain to them that the yekan had landed on the cube. Then he’d have to answer a flood of questions—questions he wouldn’t be able to answer.

Yet how could he challenge the truth that they had accepted about the cubes? For their entire lives, they believed thunder cubes were dangerous—there was no questioning it because it was a fact. Now, here he was, doubting what they believed, and that was more dangerous.

Questioning the group often led to discord, and he wasn’t about to be the cause of unnecessary strife. Doubts were not healthy to have. A unified group was brought down when there were doubts.

Tenakin buried his face into his hands. To tell the others about the yekan and the cube was equally the wrong thing and the right thing to do. In one hand he held more stress on the colony because of doubts. In the other hand he held hope that maybe the giant cube wasn’t dangerous—but even that hope would be shrouded with doubt since he had no way to prove it.

The yekan cawed above him, twisting its head to look down at him with one eye.

After exchanging glances with the death-defying bird, he opened the old journal beside him, hoping that he could forget it all and act like nothing happened.

The pages of the book were worn and discolored, and he treated them more carefully than he would a child. He flipped toward the end of the book to the section where one of his direct ancestors had written about the original group’s journey to the Thunder Coast. Tenakin didn’t know any of the people mentioned in the journal. They had all died before he was born.

There had been a total of five generations that spawned from the ancestors. The youngest, the fifth generation, were now being born. Tenakin was of the third generation, at thirty-five season-cycles in age.

The writer of the journal was directly related to Tenakin on his mother’s side—her name was Teka. So he had inherited the same beginning of her name: the first two letters always came from the mother, and the last two from the father. His full name was Tenakin, which meant the Te came from his mother, and the in came from his father.

Teka and the other original members never saw the icathial that they journeyed across the world to acquire. They had lived and died on the Thunder Coast never even touching a piece of the treasure they sought. It was a sad thought, but Tenakin was encouraged by their steadfastness. They pursued a promise they would never see for themselves. The original members knew the truth and sacrifice that was required for unity as a group. The unity they created was their true legacy.

Tenakin put his finger on the page and started reading. The words were crammed tightly into the confines of the relatively small pages, but he was used to the small letters.

We put so much faith into the story of this traveler. Captivated by the floating stone he showed us. What if the hill is not there? These are the things I fear more than the creatures that may follow us. That I left my family for nothing. Even to the end, we can never let anything split us apart like we have done. The weight of separation is greater than death. I fear only for those we left behind.

Throughout the journal, Teka practiced positivity in her writing. Most passages ended with a word of gratitude about the day, which had become a permanent custom within the colony to this day. But sometimes, her words would be stark, giving him glimpses that there was more going on in her mind than her thankful nature on the pages. This was one of those rare passages of her doubts and fears.

He couldn’t help but empathize with those doubts and fears; he looked back up to the giant cube.

Tenakin took the written words to heart, watching the thunder cube that dared to challenge the colony. They could not allow this element to cause division. He would do anything to see the group thrive, but he still didn’t know what he should do.

A man’s figure appeared from the stairs below, and he stomped up the slope at a raging speed. Jenorak, one of the head miners, had a nasty look on his face. The massive man, with muscles bulging his too-small-for-him shirt, shouted up at Tenakin in a deep, booming voice. How many times do I have to tell that woman about our ancestors? It had become a common sight lately, seeing Jenorak angry, though Tenakin still remembered the times when the man would laugh like the others. She acts like what they did means nothing anymore. I know she has not forgotten their sacrifice—but she will do everything to undermine it. Miserable woman.

Jenorak stormed up the hill and sat next to Tenakin, brooding.

Tenakin gulped. What he was expressing was not okay. Expressing anger toward another member, especially behind their back, was another seed of discord. Unified members brought their grievances to the offender and would work toward a solution. But Jenorak refused to work with Taluson anymore to end his many grudges against her, and he no longer held his tongue as he should.

You had a difficult conversation with Taluson? Tenakin asked, trying to find a way to redeem this situation. He felt small compared to the man, but he wasn’t afraid of him as the other members had grown to be. Tenakin still had faith in the man Jenorak used to be, the man Tenakin had actually befriended. Neither would claim any friendship, but they shared a mutual respect, and that was enough.

"Difficult, Jenorak huffed. She is difficult. I actually tried to encourage someone in the eating hall, but the hypocrite comes in and says I was no encouragement at all. That ‘we do not wish to be told we are close to acquiring the icathial. We want to know when you will actually break through.’ This is why I stopped trying, Tenakin. She clings to my back like a kuish, downplaying anything I say."

I am sure she had no intention of hurting you. It was probably just miscommunication. Maybe you should bring this to her attention.

Jenorak furrowed his brow at Tenakin. For a man who wants to know about everything, you are rejecting the truth of that woman. You are a mindless follower.

Tenakin took offense to the words, but he said nothing about it, looking to the ocean instead. Maybe we need more than the truth right now, Tenakin said.

Jenorak scoffed. I would rather she just shut her mouth and let us finish. She will have her answer when we get to the icathial.

From below, Nerocan came up the steps, shielding his eyes to the bright light. The man’s size was comparable to Jenorak’s, but Nerocan stood taller—the two were also similar ages. His hulking figure took long strides up the hill. He adjusted his shirt sleeves, as if preparing to start a fight, but he would never do such a thing. Tenakin had a good idea why he looked so frustrated.

Here he comes. My babysitter. I did what he told me to do—but never again. Jenorak shouted down at the man, I am not apologizing! Tell me, where is her accountability? It is always my fault, but I am not the one who needs to drop dead.

Nerocan paraded up the hill. He had a stone lodged in his cheek that slurred his speech, sometimes to the point of unintelligible words. It was the most distinguishable habit of all the members, and Tenakin couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the man without the stone in his cheek.

Jenorak, you cannod say dese dings. Dis is why you habe pobwams, Nerocan said. He stopped walking and looked down on Jenorak.

Taluson is my problem. You take her out, and you will have one happy, united colony—just as everybody wants.

This was the most vocal Tenakin had seen Jenorak in a long time, if ever. He usually kept his sentences short, and his emotions stone-stiff. Anger was common since the advent of the giant cube, but right now he sounded more like an upset child than a cold man. Tenakin only hoped this would blow over, and Jenorak would change. The colony couldn’t afford for his anger to get worse. He was a leader in the mines, and as such, he held a certain amount of influence. Yet more and more he was butting heads with Taluson, who often spoke on behalf of the entire group.

Nerocan, on the other hand, was personable with all the members. He worked alongside Jenorak in the mines, being his counterpart in leadership, and keeping Jenorak from snapping at the workers. Jenorak knew how to push people, but Nerocan made sure he didn’t push them too far.

Id is your angar Jenorak. Dis is why people awe afraid of you. Yo need do do your pard for dis colony, and led dem know yo awe on dere side. Dey do nod see dah work yo do, so dey need yo words—encouraging words, Jenorak. Dis is why I dold you do encourage someone before we wend do work.

Jenorak glared at the man. I did.

Nerocan’s demeanor made a complete shift.

Yo did?

Jenorak brought his glare onto the giant thunder cube, the dark seriousness returning to him as he buried his frustration. She might as well have strung me by the neck. But that would be too obvious for her. His eyes found the yekan drifting in the air and he watched it for a time; then with a hardened heart he said, I am done.

Nerocan gave him a look that said he was sorry and was about to explain himself. Jenorak—

No, Nerocan . . . I do not want to hear it right now.

Jenorak had gone completely cold, his visible anger gone in an instant. Tenakin and Nerocan knew that it was not gone, only hidden now. That was the way Jenorak preferred it. He was back to the unapproachable man he had become over the last few seasons.

All three watched the ocean in silence, the wind blowing softly on them. Tenakin thought about the yekan, and its interaction with the thunder cube. Now, with the two men here, he had his chance to gauge their reaction before bringing it up in a meeting. Maybe they could help him decide whether to tell everyone else that the cube may not be dangerous after all.

I . . . . Tenakin hesitated. Should he tell them? I saw the yekan land on the cube.

Jenorak glanced over, but gave the comment no thought. Nerocan looked more suspicious.

It was before everyone was awake. I watched it land and walk on the surface of the giant cube—it was not long—then it went back to the sky.

An whad does dad mean? Nerocan asked.

It is only a theory, but there is a chance the cube has gone dormant because of its size. I cannot confirm this, but it may . . . not . . . be . . . dangerous . . . .

Jenorak scoffed to himself, but Nerocan shifted the stone in his mouth to the other cheek. He pondered the idea with seriousness, also considering Jenorak’s earlier negative interaction with Taluson. Maybe dis news will relax Daluson for a dime.

That will not happen, Jenorak said under his breath.

But I have no way to prove it, Tenakin said. There is only one passage in the journal that briefly refers to elements changing, and I hardly believe the idea myself. Do you think giving everyone a false sense of hope is worth it? I cannot do that to them. They will just ask me questions I have no answers to.

Tenakin hated being the center of attention, especially during large gatherings. He had a strong sense of responsibility to the colony, and cared deeply for everyone, knowing them like his own family, but that didn’t make the spotlight any easier.

Nerocan saw Tenakin’s worried expression and the man crossed his arms, accentuating his large forearms. Dey are looking for any hope dey can ged.

Tenakin didn’t like the answer, but already he believed the man. The colony had slipped into a state of living hopelessness with their inevitable deaths at hand. The laughs within the halls were only those of children anymore, and the mealtimes, now silent, were once rowdy and filled with life. Tenakin was never the rowdy type—though he still missed those times—but he had little hope that his new theory would change anything. He wanted to believe the giant thunder cube was dormant, and no longer explosive, but he would always have doubts without proof.

After some thought, he said, I will say something. But I want everyone to decide for themselves what to think—because I can hardly get myself to accept it.

Good. Nerocan shifted his posture. Dell daluson dad you wand do share id ad dah nexd meeding. I will go wid you if you need.

I would like that. Thank you, Nerocan.

The man winked at Tenakin, then started down the hill. We go now, before da meal is done because I know she will sdill be dere.

Tenakin glanced awkwardly at Jenorak, then he hurried after Nerocan to tell Taluson about his new idea.

Children

What foundation have we inherited?

Sedeset leaned over a bin of murky water, situated against the wall of the cubby overlooking the ocean. Since she was short because of her age, the bin came up to her chest. She rested her arms on the sides, looking in. There were two others beside it, and three more to her back. Each bin was filled with varying levels of murky, grey water. Three other children joined her, aimlessly looking around the cubby cut into the stone like the rest of their underground colony. This area was different, though, being built right on the edge of the cliff, with a short wall separating the room from a dramatic drop.

The cubby was dedicated to evaporating water from the ocean so they could collect neutral powder from it. Each bin was at a different stage of evaporation—some bins full, others low and nearly evaporated completely, leaving only the powder and any ocean bits at the bottom. It was an easy task, but it took time to harvest the element due to the nature of the process.

The element was primarily used for cleaning, but it also could be used for a great deal of other things, like keeping scrapes from getting infected. Members would joke that if someone fell into the ocean, they might die quickly from an explosion, but at least they would be clean.

The children had finished the morning meal before most of the others, and wandered into the halls, just the four of them. All about the same age, the youngest at eight season-cycles old and the oldest at ten, they still had an uncanny ability to entertain themselves. Though far less exciting than other activities, staring into the murky bins was entertainment enough after a meal.

What would happen if you swallowed this? Sedeset asked the three other children within the cubby. The young girl had a wiry build, and her hair was always frazzled. She didn’t care much about appearances, but she did care whether she was bored or not. When there was nothing to do, there was always a comment to make to get things going.

Nothing good, Rotepad said. At eight season-cycles, the girl was the youngest of the four, and was Sedeset’s best friend. She was reluctant for adventure while Sedeset, on the other hand, had a tendency toward mischief, and would often pull her friend into the middle of it. Their living quarters shared the same courtyard, which had helped their friendship grow ever since they were toddlers. Now old enough to understand the trouble they got into, Rotepad knew she was pulled into activities that the entire colony disapproved of, not just her parents. And she wasn’t one to choose to disobey if she had a choice.

Well, what if I spit in this? Sedeset asked, her head leaning over the open barrel. Then when it dried, you would rub yourself with me every time you washed.

That is gross, Jeraton, one of the boys, said.

You would never do that to the colony, the other boy said. Decoran was the only one not watching the bins. He looked over the barrier keeping him from falling into the ocean far below and watched the water slap against the cliff. Next to him, a mount made of lumber dangled over the edge with a bucket tied on with rope, waiting to collect more water for the bins.