Warp & Woof: Chapter Twelve
A sci-fi serial
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Warp and woof (warp and weft): (from dictionary.com) The essential foundation or base of any structure or organization; from weaving, in which the warp — the threads that run lengthwise — and the woof — the threads that run across — make up the fabric.
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Now let’s read Chapter 12.
The final chapter.
Warp & Woof
Chapter Twelve:
Pодной Mир
(Rodnoy Mir)
Warp / Laika / Oleg
Warp opened his eyes. The laughter of seabirds rose above the crashing waves, and the glint of early morning light shone through tall grass. He stretched out a hand into empty space and felt fur. Laika’s nose pressed into his palm, and he followed her profile to her ears and scratched.
At the edge of the prairie, Zasha climbed up off the rocks amidst a backdrop of sea spray, but she’d barely taken her first steps before the water evaporated away from both body and clothes. Her hair caught on the breeze and billowed out behind her in long, undulating currents and then shrank away to a short and easy cut, close against her neck.
“Chasing dreams?” she called out, and the noises of the birds and the surf hushed for just that moment, every syllable reaching him clear and pure.
“I caught one.” He stood, and at his command, Laika sprinted across the field to greet her. “A memory I hadn’t thought about in a hundred years.”
“Your mother?”
“Doctor Popov.” He heard the sadness in his voice.
Zasha welcomed Laika with an expansive hug. “I thought you specialized in happy memories.”
“It was a good day. One of many.”
“They were all good days.” She caught up to him where he stood, and they kissed, fierce and hungry, proving some passions never die.
They walked together over the rise to their little cabin, built on the spot where Lazorevka once stood. Dmitri sat on the porch but stood when he saw them coming.
“Taking in the view?” Warp asked.
“Anshara and the others are inside, but I just wanted to sit here for a while.” He stared at his own hands. “I wasn’t sure I’d remember what I looked like. We were whales circumnavigating the continent for the season, and then suddenly, it’s today.”
Laika danced around his feet, demanding to be loved.
“Suddenly it’s today,” Warp said.
“How do you feel?” Dmitri asked.
Warp took a deep breath and thought about his answer. “It’s been a long time since I felt anything but good.” He gazed up into the brightening sky and saw the faint reflection of the fleet drawing into orbit.
Zasha held tightly to his arm. “And now?”
“I suspect he doesn’t care much for surprises.”
Her head rested on his shoulder. “Probably not.”
They entered the cabin together. Laika, too.
#
The door opened, and Laika slipped out on her own. The day sunk low on the horizon, and the new lights in the sky were sharp and clear against the darkness. Laika let out a soft howl, and when the others didn’t come to check, she shook herself, allowing her limbs to stretch free and the fur to slip away.
She leapt atop the house and sat on the roof and contemplated all the changes to come. She’d been known by many names, but these new people would call her home. With her they’d grow old and raise children. All their days would be good until they died in peace, held by the arms of those they loved.
All except the one. Warp wanted something special for him.
She became a murmuration of starlings and rose up in a joyous expression of movement and form, and when she sang, the remembered voice of Dr. Popov filled the sky, rehearsing the crimes of Oleg Tereshkova, Zmei Tret’yavich, butcher of his people. Distant wolves lifted their voices in concert. The whole world waited.
When the night grew old, the cabin took on more rooms, for it was the nature of consciousness to sleep. The murmuration plummeted like an arrow into the grass, and Laika became a dog again, nudged open the cabin door, and settled down at the foot of the bed where Warp and Zasha slept.
She tasted a dream about Warp’s mother, and in that dream Warp told his mother that he loved her with all his heart. Hearts don’t love, Laika thought, and even if they did, Warp’s had changed a million times since his arrival. One some days, he even had two. What was the meaning of such a claim?
He could have said he loved her with all his consciousness, for there was the spark of individuality and personhood. A body, a heart, was just meat when there was no consciousness, and yet, she realized that was wrong. The love Laika felt for Warp made her heart beat faster and her tail wag. These parts of her were not the seat of emotion, but they reacted to it without thought, responding with a truth beyond consciousness. The heart responded to a part of that spark about which the self was not aware, like a flower turning to face the daylight. To speak of the motions of the flower was to speak of the stars.
When he said he loved with all his heart, he meant he loved with a fullness beyond the scope of logic and awareness, from within a hidden and truer self. Laika’s tail thumped happily at the thought.
One day, Warp would experience as much life as his heart desired, and like the others before him, he’d will himself away. The thought settled Laika’s tail into a melancholy restfulness. The others who had now come, who would begin their landing tomorrow, could not replace these few, just as their friend, Galina Popov, could not follow them on their journey, but they would populate her surface with their lives and their generations, birthing societies and systems to span the centuries. Laika determined to love these systems and societies the way she loved Warp and his friends, with all her heart.
#
The first of the landing craft passed through the clouds and raced high above distant mountains on its way to a broad and grassy plain that overlooked the ocean. A tinge of sadness painted Warp’s thoughts as he watched. He’d long anticipated their arrival, but he and the others had spent many years as part of this planet. That time and connection had changed them. The coming of new people brought excitement, and in them he saw something that was wholly and fully outside of himself, for the first time since Popov’s death. This was good. The health of the consciousness required an embrace of the other, and this they’d lacked for too long.
The sadness came because he remembered what he’d been before, and that meant he understood those who now approached in their chunks of metal and flame. They’d bring to the planet all the pettiness and pain that he’d long outgrown, and in their short lifetimes, many would never know anything more, no matter how peaceful and rich a life the planet provided. Some would mature and discover a better way of being, and maybe, before they died, they’d try to pass down what they’d learned to the few who would listen. Their efforts would become part of the tapestry of time, with graciousness forever giving way to the greed of the young. The circle of humanity demanded it be so, and the wonders of Rodnoy Mir would be too small a catalyst to kindle any persistent change.
As the craft prepared to land, prismatic orbs rose up from the grass and sparkled in the sunlight as a gentle display of welcome and of the wonders possible in their new world. Rodnoy Mir could be anything it wanted to be and anything Warp and the others asked of it, but the fullness of this potential they’d keep to themselves. Unlimited possibilities would leave the new settlers without a sense of permanence or reality. So, they’d find no train stations in Moscow and none of the halls of the Strelki, strategically misplaced. Rodnoy Mir would be for them largely as it had presented itself when Lazorevka first entered its orbit, an oasis among the stars.
The new citizens of this world would see wonders in the coming days, but beneath it all, they’d have the foundation of an unchanging continent within an eternal sea.
All but one.
#
Daylight chased away the gray of the ship. Oleg Tereshkova stepped off the ramp and onto alien soil, and soon members of the crew dotted the sprawling field where they watched the sky fill with a myriad of miracles, as if designed for their welcome.
The wonder! The wonder!
The universe, in all its potential, conspired to arrange this moment, an auspicious beginning and glory which placed him at their center. The ancestors once looked for signs, and were he to believe in such things now, no surer sign could be had. The dark space of time consumed all the painful choices, but the white light of day shone plainly on their results. Purified, he stood whole and without blemish, washed in the blood of sacrifice. History would never record how close that sacrifice cut, but for the sake of society and society's future, some lies became truth, while some truths were lost entirely. So it was. So it had always been; all worlds began the same way.
Directly ahead stood a man, a woman, and a dog, waiting. Oleg recognized the man’s face, but it took several seconds to believe what his eyes knew. Overhead, a murmuration of starlings filled the sky.
The End
— Thaddeus Thomas
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Thaddeus, I think your writing gets richer with each chapter of this beautiful story. You've done a really good job of elevating WARP AND WOOF with your excellent descriptive passage. I paused in my reading to reread this paragraph several times, "She became a murmuration of starlings and rose up in a joyous expression of movement and form, and when she sang, the remembered voice of Dr. Popov filled the sky, rehearsing the crimes of Oleg Tereshkova, Zmei Tret’yavich, butcher of his people. Distant wolves lifted their voices in concert. The whole world waited." I hope you're getting lots of positive feedback, because you deserve it.