Published on November 22, 2024 12:56 PM GMT
A short science fiction story about our ancestors and the ethical responsibility we have towards them.
Old Ana's legs fought against her now, but still she led her granddaughter up the mountain path. The girl's torch made shadows dance on the rocks. The river sang in the distance – the same river that had shown Ana her great making many moons ago.
"Look, Kaya. When I was young like you, I watched the fallen trees in water. They floated, always. One day I saw a big log and thought – what if we made it hollow, like a nest?"
Kaya knew this tale well – how her grandmother made the first boat. How the people of their tribe laughed and said her head was touched by bad spirits. How she worked through many moons, scraping out the old tree's heart with bone tools. How their mouths opened wide when they saw that in this hollow tree, they could ride the river.
"But listen, little one," – Ana stopped to draw breath. – "One day our people will make boats that float up there," she pointed to the night sky. "They will go between the bright spots that shine in the dark, will cross the sky river."
Kaya looked at her grandmother with big eyes: "But how?"
"I do not know," – Ana smiled. – "But our people are clever. They will find the way. And maybe..." – she touched her chest where her heart beat – "maybe one day they will be so clever they can bring back to life those who have long gone. They'll read our traces as I read animal tracks in the snow. With the traces, they'll track down our spirits among the sand grains."
At last, they came to the cave. Inside, the torch showed the walls of their ancestors – hundreds of hands marked in earth-red.
"Now it's your turn, Kaya," – Ana took out a small pot of red ochre. – "Place your hand next to mine. Let those who come here many, many moons from now see us together, so they don't forget about bringing us back."
The awakening was gentle. Ana opened her eyes to an unfamiliar cave of smooth blue walls. Next to her, Kaya was already sitting up, exactly as she remembered her.
"Welcome back," said a spirit, the voice like many voices together.
Ana looked at her own hands - they were strong again, not gnarled by age. She could feel every part of her body singing with life.
"Your boat," the voice continued, "we found it too, fossilized, preserved in the deep mud. Now our boats do sail between stars, just as you dreamed. Would you like to see them?"
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