Naea looks around herself urgently for a second time in less than half a minute. The mountain forest on either side of the pathway seems clear of immediate threat. She digs into the dead man’s waist pouch again, drawing out the dark pebble-like device she has already felt inside it with a thrill in her heart.
She knows what it is, another relic from the old world. She can hazard an educated guess that this hard drive belongs somewhere in the second half of the 21st Century. It causes her to briefly reflect, not for the first time, as to how, even when circumstances had begun to grow dire the world over, humanity had continued to churn out new technological devices for day to day enjoyment, for some kind of happiness. It registers as neither a good nor a bad thing to Naea. Merely a curious thing. She happily slips the device inside her satchel.
She is careful not to touch the blood on the man’s body that has poured out from his slit throat. Judging from his wardrobe, he belongs to the neighbouring Shantiya tribe. She does not know who has done this, nor does she care to find out. Her tribe, the Ganook, are not on good terms with the Shantiya. Guided by circumstance Naea decides that the faster she leaves the vicinity, the better it is for her.
***
A travelling merchant selling hides, fabric and other trifles watches her emerge out of the forest slope at a run. He tries to draw her attention to his wares, but she is not interested. He stares after her as she makes her way down to the river: a lithe young woman, fair-skinned with sharp features, a mass of luscious chestnut hair in loose waves and a few intricate braids. She rests her bow and gear on a rock, kneels down by the river and splashes her face with water. There is a sense of carefree abandon in her that he has never seen in a Ganook before, and a mysterious teasing beauty that reminds him of perilous encounters from his younger days.
Summer days are warm even up here in the mountains, and a run downhill has left Naea desiring a cool bath in the river. She looks up. The mountain ridge opposite her has crept into close proximity with the sinking sun, leaving the valley no more than an hour’s worth of sunlight.
On the strength of this consideration, she satisfies herself by walking thigh deep in the smooth current, and splashing water onto her underarms, her throat, neck and chest, her sides, waist, midriff, wherever her decorative yet practical Ganook summer clothing leaves her skin exposed. She takes a long drink from the river, whereupon feeling suitably refreshed, begins the trek along the riverbed back to her village.
***
Ruiz steps out into the warm evening air flush with a barrage of emotions. He has been re-watching, using his sister’s setup of old tech, what he has been told was known as a ‘film’ from hundreds of years back. This is far from the first time he has watched it, nor is this the only film he has watched. There is something hypnotic in their appeal, these visions from a lost and largely buried past. They take him on a ride that feels freeing of the pedantry of his everyday life on the outskirts of the village.
The village elders do not like Naea and her ways, but they tolerate the siblings’ presence within the system so long as they stay away from the main village, in this cliff-side hut. As a consequence, for the better part of his eighteen years of life, Ruiz has had no friends, and living in these films from a stranger time feels as good as reality rarely does.
Yet even Ruiz enjoys the marvel that is the sight of the sunset from their remote clifftop. A soothing breeze blows in from the direction of the valley, across the hazy splendour of dying light and faraway hilltop silhouettes, and Ruiz imagines that it brings with it the scent of his sister.
Soon enough, a head full of chestnut hair in waves and intermittent braids pops up above the floorboard of the nearby deck that is built for the long ladder going down in segments all the way to the riverbed. Naea hoists herself up and is greeted by a happy looking Ruiz standing by the hut.
When she walks toward him, a discreet smile alights delicately upon a corner of her mouth. It holds something familiar and so lights up Ruiz’s expression in a rush of nervous anticipation.
“Don’t tell me you finally found another one?” he says.
Naea holds out the ancient pebble hard drive and says happily, “Looks in decent condition too.”
“I can’t wait,” says Ruiz receiving it.
“It might be just notes and photographs, Ruiz.”
“I hope not.”
“Hm… So do I. Here, at least give me a hug…”
For Ruiz, a moment of awkward stiffness ensues while he gives a customary hug to his sister, which both of them know used to be less formal not too long back. Increasingly Naea has begun to notice as to how her brother nowadays flinches, even if ever so slightly, at the casual gestures they have heretofore always shared freely.
Naea is not in the habit of pondering about things. Must be part of something silly to do with growing up for him, she has told herself. She is twenty-six years old, but she has had to grow up so long back, that she does not remember the process of it. For the better part of their lives, in the absence of parents, she has taken care of herself and brought up her baby brother, with some considered help from the village.
Presently, having exited the awkward embrace, both brother and sister are drawn to attention by the sound of approaching hooves. They look up the slope towards the village and through the orange haze discern the shape of a stylishly garmented figure, riding a black horse at brisk pace around the curves of the winding road that led to their hut. Finding her only friend captured so enchantingly amid a glorious natural happenstance, Naea calls out excited words of greetings to the woman on horseback.
Receiving this as his cue, Ruiz retreats with the hard drive inside the hut. The awkwardness of any sort of physical gesture – a hug here, a casual almost maternal squeeze there, from Naea – Ruiz has started feeling more acutely in the past year or so. But it is especially in the recent months, since he began watching those films from centuries back in time, of ancient young men and women having wonderfully treacherous adventures of spirit and body, that he has begun to feel curious emotions of tenderness towards his sister.
He is old enough, so has understood the feeling and has since tried as best as he can, to discourage the tinge of excitement he experiences at any gesture from his sister, of affection.
It is with him in this frame of mind that Ruiz, only a few weeks back, is asked by Naea to help her out by making a piercing in the soft fold upon navel, so that she might thereafter at all times sport her cherished old world jewellery piercing whose discovery has made her so happy. Having already pierced more than a few boys’ ears in the village for a meagre amount of currency or food items, Ruiz seemed the ideal candidate for the task, away from the glare of village elders to whom the old jewellery were signs of decadence, and as such, immoral.
The act changes him. There is something in the nature of acute stress he feels at unwillingly causing pain to his sister when after long and careful strategizing, he draws the hot, sterilized needle through her skin.
Later, there is her relief and thankfulness when it is over. Still later, her jubilation when the pain has subsided and the beautiful piercing fits perfectly, glittering in the daylight upon her flat midriff. There is something in these intimate little events that excites Ruiz so, and ultimately leaves him feeling ashamed and lonely.
Presently, having received the regular supplies that her friend Aerin has brought in the satchel of her horse, and listened to the latest village news she has felt compelled to tell her, Naea thanks her gratefully and bids her goodbye.
***
“So who’d you kill to get it?” asks Ruiz passing a glass of fresh milk to Naea at the open kitchen that is set to one side of the cosy interior of the hut.
“I didn’t, but someone did. A young Shantiya, throat slit from side to side. Probably raiders, or some internal trouble.”
“Too bad,” says Ruiz casually, “I’m just happy that we get a look inside another potential goldmine of information about the old world.”
Violence and death are regular neighbours in the lives of the two siblings. The gruesome murder of a stranger from a rival tribe inside a forest holds little attention for them.
“Hey, wait,” says Ruiz remembering something, “Why did you go all the way to that forest in the first place?”
“Ah Ruiz,” Naea digs into her bag and then teasingly holds up her second surprise of the day in the form of a couple of handfuls of some kind of herb, “Do you remember what this used to feel like?”.
Derek lets out a soft gasp, “You found a fresh patch!”
“I did indeed, dear boy,” she says imperiously, “I’m going to set this to boil now, okay? I bet the code conversions will get done in the meantime.”
***
Having only ever seen the ways of the ruined world and the culture of the tribes, any new authentic material from days prior to the series of global disasters are a source of great intrigue for the Ganook siblings presently seated at the sofa in front of the tech unit. Browsing through the contents, they discover to their delight, that there is, in fact, present a series of video files.
Naea opens the first one and a large three-dimensional hologram appears ahead of the wall, exhibiting a brilliant nightscape from the old world. The room fills with the sounds of things that are no longer alien to them. Neon lit streets of some sort of megacity with its glittering tall buildings appear in front of them bustling with the sounds from the stalls of street food vendors, of cars zooming across plush roads, as well as flying by up above. Most startling of all, there is a general din that is the sound of a thousand voices talking all at once. Having always lived in a world without such cities, Naea and Ruiz are always transfixed whenever presented with a vision of the cyberpunk past.
The film shows the story of a very handsome looking young mother and her teenage son.
They walk from their car across a crowded pavement, in through a door to a nightclub dance floor with its old-world electro blitz music, it’s glittering lights, dancing projections and whatnot, finally through a small door at the back to a man, who hands them a small token. The next instant they are back in their flying car, speeding through the night sky on their way out of the city, where up on a small hill is a solitary mansion waiting for them.
Upon closer inspection, the mansion proves to be just as marvellous as it had looked from up in the sky. The entire premises are lit by mysterious and opaque, circular floating yellow bulbs that lend a dull haze all around. A warm breeze blows across the lawn, making the floating bulbs sway enchantingly in waves.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen something like this,” says Naea, sipping her cup of hot beverage made from the intoxicating weed.
“Me neither, it’s so…”, Ruiz’s voice trails off.
The mother is greeted by a man in seemingly formal garments, who receives the token from her and directs her to a cosy hall inside. Here she is greeted by yet another figure, a gentleman dressed in fine clothes, with an accent.
“Here you are then, Madam…”
“Mademoiselle,” the blonde-haired woman interrupts casually.
“Ah… Mademoiselle Diane Forrester. Welcome, and this is your son, Derek?”
“Hello,” says Derek.
“He crossed the age restriction only last year, it’s his first time here,” says Diane.
“Well then, I do hope you have a lovely time, mother and son together here,” the man smiles warmly and gesturing them towards a luxurious plush velvet sofa to one side of the room, he makes his exit. At the centre of the room is visible beneath a string of dull floating bulbs a sizeable and comfortable looking circular bed. Before long, beautiful men and women in elegant clothing bring out and distribute drinks of their choices to the mother-son duo.
The woman and her son relax with their drink, slipping into light-hearted conversations with the two men and one woman attending upon them.
Yet it seems as though beneath the casual conversation runs an undercurrent of something else. Something that feels new, almost threatening, to Naea.
Here and there, there is a brushing of hands, some nervous giggles; the woman puts her arms around Derek’s mother.
“I think this drink is working on me,” sighs Naea.
Ruiz does not say anything. But he agrees on his behalf as well.
“Why don’t you finish that drink and let me make you feel more comfortable, hmm?” the beautiful woman with electric blue hair whispers into Diane’s ear. Diane promptly downs her glass and leans back into the sofa looking relaxed.
“Are you alright here with me then, Miss Forrester?” asks the woman who has introduced herself as Chelsea, with a warm smile.
Diane nods. A pair of delicate, foreign hands alight upon the buttons of her elegant garment, leaving them undone as they pass downward. Diane quietly accepts Chelsea’s workings on her top and soon finds it slipped off her, leaving the top half of her body bare but for her black bra.
“This… it doesn’t quite seem like a normal love segment, does it?” asks Naea.
“No… I mean,” mumbles Ruiz, “I don’t know. What do we do?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”
***
That night Ruiz sleeps in a haze of intoxication and remembrances of the beautiful topless figure of a blonde woman from a magical time. He dreams of being in that cosy, warmly lit hall in the film, sitting alongside the electric blue-haired woman gently removing the bra off Diane Forrester’s chest.
The two beautiful women lean in and lock their lips together, and Ruiz looks on from beside them. He feels an acute excitement in his groin watching Chelsea’s hand slide in through the waistline of Diane’s skirt down to her private part.
One of the men asks Derek, her son, “Do you like watching your mom getting fucked by strangers, then?”
Ruiz feels himself sinking. First, through the sofa he is sitting on and then through what feels like an infinite blank space until finally falling onto the lap of his sister, sitting resting against a solitary tree, overlooking a mountain slope full of a thousand sheep that she is shepherding. She looks pretty. Her mass of hair is tied loosely in a knot at the back. The traditional summertime pale blue blouse, wrapped around her chest and tied at the back, the matching Ganook trekking trousers and boots, Ruiz feels a strange mix of emotions at being harked back so suddenly to familiar sights, away from a world that was so mysterious and erotic. At the next moment, however, he finds himself enjoying the sensation of his skin upon Naea’s, his hands gently wrapping around her waist, his face searching for hers.
Ruiz wakes up with a start. It takes him several seconds of guilty panting and reflection before he realizes that Naea is not in her bed which lies empty now against the opposite wall. It was she who had decided to turn the film off. She had told Ruiz that she had heard rumours of this kind of film for years but had never known if they actually existed. She had also conceded that what they had gotten in their hand must be of immense value.
“But I think it’s best not to watch this,” she had declared without explanation, shortly after one of the men in the film had asked the teenage son if he enjoyed watching his mother have sex with strangers.
Battling a secret uproarious desire to watch the rest of it, he had found himself at least outwardly agreeing with her. The nature of their secluded and cosy lives had bestowed upon them a nuanced sense of privacy. As such, at that moment, it did not occur to them that the film could be watched by them separately at different hours. It was all or nothing.
Now, having wiped his eyes with the palm of his hands, he looks through the window outwards at the valley and surmises that it must be close to dawn. There is a dull glow inside the hut visible across the bend of the wall. Ruiz gets up and makes his way quietly across it to find his sister with her earpieces on in front of the tech unit. Ahead of her in the large hologram, Ruiz beholds a remarkable sight: the woman called Diane lies on her back on the circular bed in the middle of the hall, her entire beautiful body bare for all to see. A man, likewise naked, with his penis as stiff as Ruiz’s feels at the moment, enters her gently through the hole in her private area again and again. Diane’s face is contorted in a mysteriously excited expression that somehow endows Ruiz with a touch of enchantment.
Close by Diane on the bed sits Derek watching her, his clothes lying strewn upon the floor. Beside him is Chelsea, her electric blue hair brushing her bare shoulders when she leans in and whispers to him...
