Of Dreams and Rust - Sarah Fine Page 0,10

boy between them, and his cheeks are round and fat and pink with happiness. I stare longer than is polite, clinging to my wish that things were really this way, that the world were full of peace and jubilation and nothing else, that the shadow of war had not descended. As I look at that lovely little family, it is almost possible to believe.

But then I make my way past fences plastered with anti-Noor slogans, patriotic phrases, and more wanted posters. These are a step beyond anything I have seen so far. In every image the Noor are drawn as hairy beast-men with overhanging foreheads, too-wide shoulders, and massive feet. There is one poster of a valiant and handsome Itanyai soldier, his black hair perfect, his eyes dark and intense, bravely facing down a horde of Noor on horseback. Another shows a Noor standing beside a burning, ruined bean field, grinning like a monster, his huge, jagged teeth protruding from his mouth. These are pictures meant to spread fear and anger, to spark a fire in the blood. It is easy enough to do—with food prices rising every day and with shortages of basic staples affecting most of the country, we all want to blame something for our suffering. Of course, the real culprit is the drought, not the Noor. But perhaps the government believes the people won’t turn on it if it provides another target for our helpless, hungry rage—one that can be oppressed and killed.

Before long it is too much. My flimsy, silly wishes have been demolished. My heart is beating too hard. Melik is too loud in my thoughts. My eyes are burning with tears that it isn’t safe to shed.

I retreat back to the factory, waving conspicuously as I enter to show the guard I listened to his guidance. Instead of returning to the clinic, though, I climb the stairs all the way to the roof of Gochan Two. I hover at the edge, looking down on the empty factory square. The heat and noise from the factory floor have not stopped. I wonder what the workers are feeling, if they’re resentful or content. Usually, everyone is eager to venture into the Ring on this night, and until a year ago, so was I.

But last year I spent First Holiday Eve with my red Noor, sitting on a cold concrete floor in a dank room, happier than I have ever been as I watched fireworks pop beyond a dirty windowpane, as my eyes traced Melik’s profile, the slope of his nose, the smile on his lips. It was a pure moment when anything seemed possible.

Now I feel the opposite. My thin fingers curl over bricks, too weak to bend things into the shape I wish them to be.

“You remembered,” Bo says softly from behind me. “I was sure you wouldn’t.”

I whirl around to see him standing near the flaming smokestack that looms high above Gochan Two, a fragile smile playing across his lips. My stomach lurches. Both of Bo’s arms are too long for his body. His remaining flesh-and-bone arm is encased within a frame of steel and wire. He looks down, and his hands rise for his examination, palms up. “I’m testing them,” he says. “What do you think?”

I think he looks more like a monster than he ever has. “You must have worked very hard today.”

He stands up a little straighter. “I did. And I thought I’d be watching the fireworks alone, but you’re here. This day is ending even better than it started.”

I turn back to the Ring. The sun is setting over the Western Hills, lending the smoky haze over the town a golden glow. “My day was not so good.”

Bo joins me near the low wall that rings the roof. “Was Yixa cruel to you?” His voice is sharp, and suddenly I fear for the old surgeon.

“No. I’ve told you—he’s always kind.”

“He drinks too much.”

“He did nothing to hurt me.” I close my eyes. “The cruelest thing he did was to show me a newspaper. The rebels have taken Kegu.”

“I heard.”

Bo hears everything. Like in Gochan One, he has taken advantage of the antiquated piping system to watch and eavesdrop on nearly everyone in Gochan Two.

When he looks down at me, his metal mask reflects the lights of the Ring as they flicker on to beat back the encroaching darkness. “I heard something else today, actually. Something top secret.”

Nausea rolls over me. “I think I know what it is. But tell