The Run Only Ends When You're Against a Wall

"All right lift!" hollered Francoise as she and her beefy friends pull on the rope that forms part of the block and tackle hung over the open metal door far below ground. We'd turned on the electric lights. They still have electricity down here, which meant that the Mountain Prince and Star Queen as they call themselves have not yet laid total waste to Dogon where I've lived all of my adult life except for the years I went away to college. That will happen eventually, I told myself.

I watched the intact, memory cube surrounded by many layers of protective plastic, a plastic drop cloth, and finally a lifting tarp rise in its tarp like a baby in a basket as the block and tackle lifted it toward the door. Two high school girls helped swing the precious bundle into the chamber with the metal door. The chamber is a good twelve feet above the underground canal. One has to reach it by swimming against the current. The memory cube reached it on an inflated, aviation, tire tube with its lifting tarp atop another tarp to serve as a lightweight, makeshift raft. We paddled it zig zag up the river.

I led the team because I have done this before, saving memory by floating it across water. I was a good swimmer and I was fifteen the last time I served on such a crew. I remember climbing from the river frozen. My teeth chattered. I had no dry clothes. "Walk and you'll be warm," the team leader told us. We took turns carrying our memory cube. Others in the team carried their cubes. We walked through tall grass at night until we reached a trail which became a two lane road, which became a four lane road.

The rest of my house had walked out of the city on the railroad bridge. If a train had come, they would have all died, but trains weren't running. If we had taken the refugee buses and other transports the Mountain Prince and Star Queen arranged, their forces would have searched and interrogated us. Not all of us would have made it out. The memory cube would certainly never have never made it out. We needed that cube. The world needs that cube. It still does.

That is why I felt a warm sense of relief when I saw the cube safely bedded down in a far corner of the chamber with the metal door. "Think we'll ever be able to get down here again and get it?" asked Callis. She was due to go off to college in the fall, and now here life lay utterly disrupted. It was better for her to find something to be unhappy about besides herself.

"We have GPS readings,&qout; Francoise replied. "We may have to dig to get an entrance."

"There are multiple entry points to the water system," I added. The water table in Dogon is not very deep, though the city is drier than it ever could have been since the Star Queen and her cohorts vanquished the river because it belonged to a low city about a hundred miles to the east. That was before I came to Dogon when I was fifteen. I just know the history of it.

"You going to still be here to get the cube out?" Callis asked.

"I hope so. If not, you and your friends may have to do it?"

Callis did not answer. Francoise and the others invited me up to see the cube nestled safely in a rear corner and covered by yellowing newspaper. Newspapers were almost antiques, but this place had had them or no one had disturbed this room for a long time. We exited the steel door room, relocked the door, removed the block and tackle and put it back on the tarp and tube raft. We just had to float down with the current to reach our ladder and then climb through what had once been either bomb shelters or subway stations or part of an oil refinery. Kinneret, the historian, and a local, says that it was either part of an oil refinery or chemical plant. There are no chemical smells here now, just southern mould and rat turds. That was fine with me. The night air was fresh and sticky.

Star Queen and Mountain King had chosen the worst point of summer to attack. Callis slapped at a mosquito that had all ready taken her fill of unhappy, young adult blood. A light on the second floor came on. We still had electric even here on the surface in the Horse Shoe and the Oxbow. "Come in and get something to eat!" a loud voice called.

"And pee before they cut the water supply off so we can't flush either," Callis answered.

"Come on," groaned Francoise. "Things are gross enough without you having to make them worse."

Eileen H. Kramer -- 4/19/10

Paper Pineapples

On the second floor of the east side of the Horse Shoe was one of the big kitchens and penny pastas with what Kinneret, the local, calls tomato gravy. The rest of us call it red sauce. Tonight it was more stew than sauce with potatoes, celery, carrots, a few radishes etc... all dumped into it, every leftover in the refridgerator plus the bottom of a box of raisins. Noemi, the cook, had not had time to make a cake she said and she wanted everything gone by the time "they" arrived. She did not say who "they" were. If you were on their side, they were the forces of good. That made us the forces of evil or made the Mountain Prince, the Star Queen, and their followers a major inconvenience, to borrow a well worn euphemism, since we were mainly on our own side. To Noemi who had married a captain of the palace guard, they were the enemy and her daughter, whom my best friend Nadhezda (aka Nadji) had delivered, was now in danger. The daughter, a beautiful three week old baby, slept in a bassinet in the pantry alcove so Noemi could move around the kitchen without tripping over her or putting her in danger. The baby at least slept peacefully.

Noemi wore a rainbow striped silk robe beneath her stained, white cooks apron. She had cooked in her cooperative house in college. She had studied art history. She could teach art either privately or in the schools. Sometimes she got commissions to make big sculptures or friezes. Friezes were more popular here in Dogon since the sculpture the Prince of Darkness preferred was large, heroic statues, and Noemi was no realist.

Noemi put a plate on the table and served me more than I would have taken myself. "Tonight she is a widow,&qout; I thought. They have taken the palace and probably killed her husband. She has a marriage certificate so she is a widow, but there will be no widow's pension and no recognition and no memorials. There were not tears yet either. Maybe Noemi still hoped that it was not so, and that Caesar, her husband, was still alive, in hiding, escaped, held prisoner to be ransomed out in some way.

I blew on the tomato stew that I did not stir into my penny pasta. It was ridged pennies, tubes bigger than mackaronis. There are also smooth penny tubes. There are lots of shapes for pasta. I knew I had to eat. I did not want to eat. I was not cold this time as I had been when I emerged from the river at fifteen. I was sick. Like Noemi, I too could not cry. I did not ask. If there had been news, I would hear it or would have heard it.

Nadji (Her full name is Nadhezda.) was still missing. She had been working near the palace when the Star Princess and Mountain Prince' forces entered the city. They entered silently with few explosions. Our civil defense on the all reported a few bright lights and a few buildings disappearing in puffs of silent smoke. Magic can be frightening. One has to remember though that magic does not equal omnipotence. There are other sources of power. Magic itself is not even monolithic. There are multiple magics and in different situations some are stronger than others. Change the situation and one kind of magic loses its usefulness while another power is just what you might need. I teach mathematics. In the right situation of course, math is power. I have a life saving and water safety instruction certificate. You saw how useful it is to be able to swim well. Francoise is large and strong. We needed her to hoist the memory components and their drive via the block and tackle. Donnette, who is good with design, put together the raft to float the cube down the river. Memory of course is a great source of power.

Nadji was and still is a Doctor of Obstetrick. That means she delivers babies that would die if left to the ministrations of even the most skilled midwife. With the right assistants and equipment, she can perform surgery that saves the life of both mother and child and she can deliver a baby that is stuck, without cutting open the the mother except of course for an episiotomy. She can do all this in clean surroundings so that there is no infection. Just think about that.

Nadji like me was also a swimmer. We were best friends in middle school long ago and far to the north, and that night, we both helped swim the memory cubes across the river, when the Prince of Darkness laid waste Mino. We wandered on the prairies through the night. When we were sure no one was following us we sang:

The littlest worm
I ever saw
Was at the bottom of my so-da straw!
The littlest worm
I ever saw
Was at the bottom of my so-da straw!
He said don't drink
Oh don't drink me
Please spare my life
Was the worm's plea
He said don't drink,
Oh don't drink me.
Please spare my life,
That was his plea.
I drank him down.
He was my friend.
But he is gone,
And that's the end. I drank him down
He was my friend.
But he is gone,
And that's the end.

The memory usually makes me laugh, but tonight, it nearly made me cry. Was Nadji held prisoner. Was she even alive. Had she been gratutitiously killed in one of the explosions or taken off and disappeared like Victor Harah in the Santi-ago Stad-i-um? Was she shot like Noemi's Caesar, or did the Star Queen and Mountain Prince torture their victims first. Even the forces of good have their evil days, especially when they invade a city.

Nadji and I sung the night we hiked with the memory cubes until we reached the two lane road that became the four lane road that led to the town with the three white grain silos sitting empty because it was early spring. There was an all night diner with paper pineapples hanging from the ceiling. I said we needed coffee or koko drink. The man behind the counter laughed. He asked if we had currency. I got out my sodden wallet. My Mino card was worthless and the Star Queen's coins were just decorations.

"We can sing for our supper," quick thinking Nadji pleaded, and we once again sang The Littlest Worm. The man behind the counter served us our choice of sandwiches along with hot coffee with plenty of milk and sugar. Nadji saved my life with her song and her quick wits. Rest in peace, Nadji.

Eileen H. Kramer -- 4/20/10

Eureka and Papillon

"Intruders!" announced Callis from her spot leaning against the dining room window on the second floor of the Oxbow where I was trying to choke down penny pasta with everything. Better to eat it than leave it to rot etc....

"Where?" asked Noemi as if every day were wartime and intruders were no big deal.

"Please let me finish my dinner and put on something dry," I thought. I've just been swimming in the storm sewers and water filled tunnels under our part of the city that soon won't be our part of the city any more...

"Central courtyard," Callis reported. They just climbed up out of the storm drain. I glanced out the window. There were six men and boys in sodden robes. They had shaved heads. They were either priests, mages, or fellow refugees. Soldiers wore boots or fancy wet suits if they came through the water tunnels.

I pushed my food into the center of the table. "I'll fetch Renata," Callis found a role for herself. "Noemi," I suggested. "You stay inside. I'll go talk to them and see what they want." I had no child. I had the least to lose. Nadjie was gone. Nadjie, my dearest best friend in my whole life, was gone forever. Rest in peace, Nadjie friend. Did they take you in front of a wall and shoot you? Did they throw you in a basement? Did they torture you first? Victory can be very destructive.

Even the warm night air on my wet clothes made me shiver. I was walking mosquito food, but I did not brush away the buzzing bugs as I walked across the courtyard as if it is war time every day and I greet intruders every day. They looked unarmed. I found that a relief of course. Then I did not care. Refugees were trouble. Priests and mages even more trouble. I did not have the patience for magic and was in no mood for religion beyond private prayer.

I saw two men of indeterminate age. At least I thought they were men, but there was something oddly effeminite about them. They were soft looking despite their thin, ascetic figures. Robes showed the paunches and even the man tits on them. There was a younger man who could not repress a smile though he lowered his eyes. There was a plump priestling. All the figures wore grey robes that looked like either rags or burlap. Wet the robes were black, but I recognized the material, and then I recognized the boy. He was one of my students. I remembered the sight of him in the back of the room, his bald head scarred by a harsh and permanent depilatory, his body covered in that coarse grey robe. The sons of officers did little to conceal their contempt of him. The daughters of the well to do and officers laughed at him. The scholar girls to their credit tolerated him. He proved to be an able student, but he had no name. He had given up his name and his hair as part of his faith. He was a recent initiate to the cult of the Dark Mother.

The Dark Mother is not the Hindu Kali, she is darker and more demanding. She is also shrewd, smart, and according to her followers infinitely powerful. Her pwers do not come free. In the world of the Dark Mother, you have to give to get. Initiates surrender their names, their body hair, and.... I learned about the rest over time. I could not have a student without a name. "I can't call you 'hey you,' " I told the boy the first day of class. "That would be disrespetful and I want to respect you. You deserve respect." The boy blinked and told me to call me anything I wished. I decided to call him "Eureka," since that sounded mathematical and it was neither a girl's name nor a boy's and it was not the name of some fierce general; for Eureka did not look one bit fierce.

Then I learned about the rest. Officially, initiates of the Dark Mother were as welcome at Central High School as those of any other faith. The school had a loose dress code and no uniforms. They were welcome to wear their robes except for gym class for which they needed either a uniform if they were boys or loose fitting shorts and a t-shirt if they were girls. This is where it got interesting. The boys often showered together after gym and they changed in front of eachother. That was how I learned that Eureka tried changing in a toilet stall. This worked until he neededa shower one day.

Initiates of the Dark Mother surrendered their sexual organs. Under their robes none of the priests standing in the courtyard that night had either penises or testes. As I told you, the Dark Mother exacts a heavy reward for her benefits. Well the Dark Mother had saved five of her own. "Where are your brothers?" I asked the priests.

"We do not know," answered one of the older ones. I knew, at least that they had not committed suicide. There was also a very good chance that they had escaped by different routes, to ensure that at least some of them made it. The Dark Mother did not believe in human sacrifice. Dead priests were of no use to her. Priests and initiates who were willing to renounce and obey and work were what she wanted. "At least you are all alive," I congratulated them.

"I'm in charge tonight and I will see that my followers and I do the best we can to see you survive and are not harmed, but I am going to need to call all of you something."

"Follower will suffice," said the ageless priest who was voice for all the rest.

"No it won't. There are five of you. You'll all get names. You," I pointed to the spokesman. "Are Papillon. The boy, who was in my Math Eleven class is Eureka. The rest of you will get named shortly. Now come inside and have some food and dry clothes."

Eileen H. Kramer -- 4/27/10