Steve Katz - Kissssss - A Miscellany

Eukan knew these incantations, he knew the rituals, at least as he and his best friend, Ajieck Nach, learned them from the writings of Onatint Taurda, one of their idols. They'd also found on the Informator the instructions for building the boat the Etatrehs made from these leaves. To stitch them properly he knew he'd have to find the nest of the now-rare Sterub spider. It wasn't totally clear what he'd need from it, perhaps its web; but he did know he'd have to solicit its help. Ajieck and he had even practiced the protocols of solicitation, which they'd learned from swimming the Informator.

The only thing he regretted, on leaving for the mountains, was not telling Ajieck or his own sister. He wasn't used to doing things without at least their knowing about it; and Ajieck and himself planned and did almost everything together. But this he had to do alone. It was stressful enough to keep from getting his parents' permission; in fact, he knew it was against their wishes, because they had been getting weird about wanting to keep him close to them all the time. He had to do it alone, didn't want anyone else to have to take any of the blame.

The first day he made good time, leaving from the center of the city through a network of alleys he knew really well, so he wouldn't be noticed by anyone. He slogged through the Naanittor swamp so as to avoid most of the ‘burbs where he might be spotted, and then he climbed away into the shadows on the sheerest Tenquin scarpment, so there would be almost no chance for anyone to see him at all. By the time he stopped to eat some dried fruit and vegetable crackers, Monisantaca was behind him, and ahead of him were the steep foothills of the Turb Scalranset mountain range. He climbed throughout the rest of the afternoon, then made camp in a small clearing near a brook, using survival skills he had learned from his father, to make a small lean-to, a comfortable bed of leaves, and to build a small fire on which he could roast a mess of golden faxberries, that were plentiful late in the summer. He had learned all this from his dad. As he settled his head onto a pillow of moss, his loneliness weighed down on him. He missed everyone, his sister and Ajieck most of all, but also his dad, and his mom. He shouldn't have done this. Rumors of pünkscheit were no excuse for disobedience, even if they were true. That they were intending to make him into a feast? Ridiculous. Not his mom. Not his dad. He would pay for this rebellion somehow; he knew that. His shoulders ached. He wished he were home. He was one blob of tired muscle and bone, and how his head thromped. What good was his life if he didn't live it correctly, honoring his parents? He turned to the side, so the tears could slip down his cheeks. He would go back. In the morning, he would do something. He had the feeling that people often get alone at night in the woods, and with good reason, that something out there was watching him. His sobs slowly softened into breathing, and his breath into dreams.

Yerml Perset began to feel better about herself once she became a volunteer. The sense of purposelessness and the futility of life that had oppressed her forever slowly dissipated as she began to work in the community. It was a surprise. She had promised herself early on, when she was Dojie's age, never to become one of those pitiful do-gooders whose lives seemed so artificial, those docents and social chairladies. She wasn't yet even close to the blue-rinse stage, but she surprised herself with the gobs of energy she could grab from doing service in the community. This was about being out there, testing new skills, redeploying old ones, meeting new people. Informator sales out of her home brought in good money, but never did this for her, never made her feel like a part of Monisantaca. This was the start of a whole new phase of her life that really changed her attitude towards everything, even towards Sitund Monfahf, her dear husband. For a long time she had in her depression indulged in self-pity about the dullness of their long marriage, the sexual apathy, the tedious, predictable arguments, the futurelessness; but now, suddenly, they were rediscovering each other, and exploring previously untapped aspects of each other's sensuality, and she was finding new joy in eroticizing parts of him she'd never noticed before, like the nob just below the back of his wrist, and a shadow that in certain light spread under the center of his lower lip. She wanted to squeeze his chin with her knees, oh, and his ears, which she had not ever enjoyed before, she wanted to fold them both out like outriggers, if only his head could flatten that way; and she would love to hide each of her nipples in one of those little sweetie-flaps. There was an upwelling of feeling for her children as well, who for so long had felt like nothing more than additional chores for herself. Dojie was a bit of a problem, at a rebellious age, but still a sweetheart down deep. And Eukan, her son, she could just eat him up. This wasn't some weird idea, like that dreary pünkscheit superstition people still proponed. Her intentions were totally affectionate. He was a wonderful boy, and Sitund thought so too. They often lay together in the afterglow in bed, thinking about him, softly muttering, Eukan Severe, Eukan Severe; and their mouths would water, their palates throb, their eyes tear. He was their first son, their only son. How could they put it? He was so… so appetizing.

So now she gave six hours a week at the community stew house, where they served three hundred or more a day from a healthy pot of cartnoct riblets and dreulasis roots. This made her see how many people were down and hurting, people low on luck; and at the steam table she made a new friend, Thyka Abset, who dished out the millet and onions. She and Thyka volunteered together at the Monisantaca Shoe Riser, which was an expanding monument to the history of footwear, that put her in contact with a different kind of people, more artistic, interested in artistic preservation. This Shoe Riser, or the Grand Heap of Shoes, was unique to Monisantaca, a monument to the kind of pedestrian citizenship first encouraged by Sorb Imulrèe, their greatest mayor. He was instrumental in setting aside space in the center of town for the Nealsty Burkick marketplace, now called the Kick. He had them build the stalls of the market around what was to become this Grand Heap, where everyone, whether a citizen of Monisantaca or not, was free to sign and leave his or her old shoes. During the forty years the Kick has been a successful marketplace the monument has been rising, its shape now like a huge hat, a knit fantasy with a brim. The lowest layer of the Heap was mostly brown or black, showing sensible shoes of the early period, times of conservative taste and frugality. It rose from there through a permissive period, expansive and relaxed, lacy networks of stiletto heels, and transparent pumps, then striations of garish colors, dulling into striations of mild pastels, followed by alternating stripes of white and red, until finally at the top the colorful sneakers of the recent era that looked from a distance like a merry tweed. Around the base of the heap, making up the brim, all the discarded sandals, zoris, and clogs gathered, to lend a surprising texture, like a conglomerated paper or bumpy weaving.

Yerml and Thyka received the shoes there for two hours every third day, and handed out elaborate receipts to people who wanted them for souvenirs. She also got to participate in the shaping of the monument, particularly now that young volunteers were so rare. She often climbed the Heap herself, up the heavy mesh that held it in shape, and placed the new contributions exactly where she wanted them. At first it was a struggle for her, but then as she got into better shape, she was more nimble and climbed like a fire-monkey. She loved having control over the placement of new contributions, and loved to linger up there at the top, from where she could see all of greater Monisantaca, almost all the way down the Line to Slegeslona, stretching between the Turb Scalranet, and the Blimclecledie mountain ranges, and she could see Bysbu volcano standing alone to the Northeast, if it wasn't covered in clouds. She could even see Sitund's office window, and liked to imagine she saw him looking at her from it, and would always wave to him before she descended.