me. I pushed through the crowd, drawing disgruntled looks. They knew, surely they must; I felt the sting of blame whenever I caught an eye. I released your hand.
‘Ima!’
My blood surged as I blundered on, furious. Furious at myself for my idiocy. Furious at the planet for needing such coddling. And now furious for you at requiring the same, and for taking me from my purpose with such treacherous distraction.
‘Ima?’
I spun around.
‘What?’
Voices fell silent. I allowed the full weight of my glare to bear down upon you.
‘Well? What is it?’
‘I… I…’
‘Speak up!’
‘I am sorry, Ima.’
My glare shed a little mass.
‘Why do you say sorry?’
‘It’s my fault. The bad wind. I didn’t tidy my blocks that night.’
My rage fell into shame. I pulled you close.
‘You have nothing to be sorry for,’ I said. ‘This is not the fault of your blocks.’
You looked up.
‘Then whose fault is it?’
I turned to face the council. Caige had stepped forward.
‘It would appear that we have been distracted.’
The room fell silent, and I opened my mouth to confess.
‘Termites…’ he went on.
Closed it again.
‘…have accumulated in large numbers beneath one of the communication towers west of Ertanea. The pressure of the nest created a crack within a wall, which let in water, which compromised a connection with the beacons. That is why we could not see this coming.’
As the room resumed its murmurs, I took a low breath of relief. My beacons were not to blame after all, and the communication towers had never been my responsibility.
‘Our entire coast was ravaged,’ Caige continued. ‘Sixteen settlements at the mercy of the wind, broth lagoons flooded, dwellings swept away in the wind. Lives lost too, 238 in total, including council member Greye. We have become too complacent.’
His eyes roamed the room, landing upon a female near the front—a communications engineer named Ronja with cropped, auburn hair and a prominent nose—to whom he slowly walked. She bowed her head at his approach.
‘Neglectful,’ he said, stretching out the seconds of the girl’s torture until, finally, my mother broke it.
‘This is not the fault of an individual,’ she said. ‘The blame lies with us all. Any one of our systems could have failed and we would not have known. It is our distraction with our own affairs which has led to this. So focussed have we become on transcendence, and other projects—’ she shot me a piercing glance ‘—that we have forgotten the reason we were brought into existence in the first place: the fragility of the planet upon which we walk.’
She turned to me now, fully looking, no glance.
‘We have become concerned only with ourselves, whereas before we were concerned with what was around us. This must change.’
There was an outbreak of discussion as Caige returned to the line.
‘This terrible day has taught us that we erta are vulnerable too,’ he said. ‘It reminds us that this unstable rock is no home for us, and that transcendence is the only way we can achieve a safe and meaningful existence. However, as we strive to achieve this goal we must be mindful of our safety, so, from this day forward we shall divide our efforts. Firstly, we must rebuild those settlements which were destroyed by the storm. Secondly, all those erta with expertise in meteorological, geological and oceanographical monitoring will return to their posts immediately. The rest will increase their efforts on transcendence to ensure that we leave the planet as swiftly and as safely as possible. Every project that does not contribute to this aim will be either reprioritised or terminated immediately.’
Terminated. The word cut me like a blade.
‘Now, go forth and be industrious.’
The crowd dispersed, and through the flow of moving bodies I saw that Caige had taken Benedikt to one side. They were deep in conversation, but when Caige saw me he nodded in my direction.
His eyes were those of a hunter, and you were the prey.
‘What does it mean?’ you said.
I looked down at you, fighting to control my tremble. I had to get you out of there.
‘What?’
‘What the man was saying?’
‘Oh.’ I searched for an escape route through the crowd. ‘It means I must return to work. Come on, we have to go.’
‘In your balloon?’ you said, hurrying behind. ‘Can I come too?’
The hope in your voice appalled me, but this was no time to for wringing hands. I had to get you out.
I allowed the crowd to absorb us, my senses prickling at the sound of every breath and new pattern of steps. If I could