David Mitchell - Cloud Atlas

I watched the clock’s tickers that mornin’ too till Abbess came back from her augurin’ an’ sat ’cross from me. She telled me Old Georgie was hungerin’ for my soul, so he’d put a cuss on my dreamin’s to fog their meanin’. But Sonmi’d spoke her what the true augurin’s was. An’ you too you got to mem’ry these augurin’s well ’cos they’ll change the path o’ this yarnin’ more’n once.

One: Hands are burnin’, let that rope be not cut .

Two: Enemy’s sleeping, let his throat be not slit .

Three: Bronze is burnin’, let that bridge be not crossed .

I ’fessed I din’t und’stand. Abbess said she din’t und’stand neither, but I ’d und’stand when the true beat come, an’ she made me nail her augurin’s to my mem’ry. Then she gave me a hen’s egg for brekker, still spitty’n’warm from the bird, an’ showed me how to suck its yolk thru a straw.

So you want to hear about the Great Ship o’ the Prescients?

Nay, the Ship ain’t no mythy yarnin’, it was real as I am an’ you are. These here very eyes they seen it ooh, twenty times or more. The Ship’d call at Flotilla Bay twice a year, near the spring an’ autumn half’n’halfs when night’n’day got the same long. Notice it never called at no savage town, not Honokaa, not Hilo, not Leeward. An’ why? ’Cos only us Valleysmen got ’nuff Civ’lize for the Prescients, yay. They din’t want no barter with no barb’rians what thinked the Ship was a mighty white bird god! The Ship was the sky’s color so you cudn’t see it till it was jus’ offshore. It’d got no oars, nay, no sails, it din’t need wind nor currents neither, ’cos it was driven by the Smart o’ Old Uns. Long as a big islet was the Ship, high as a low hill, it carried two–three–four hundred people, a mil’yun maybe.

How did it move? Where’d its journeyin’s take it? How’d it s’vived all the flashbangin’ an’ the Fall? Well, I never knowed many o’ the answers, an’ unlike those o’ most storymen, Zachry’s yarns ain’t made up. The tribe what lived on the Ship was called Prescients, an’ they came from an isle named Prescience I. Prescience was bigger’n Maui, smaller’n Big I, an’ far-far in the northly blue, more’n that I ain’t knowin’ or ain’t sayin’.

So the Ship’d anchor ’bout ten throws off School’ry Head an’ a pair o’ littler hornety boats’d come out the Ship’s prow an’ fly over the surf to the beach. Each’d got six–eight men’n’women. Oh, ev’rythin’ ’bout ’em was wondersome. Shipwomen too was man-some, see, their hair was sheared, not braided like Valleyswomen, an’ they was wirier’n’strong. Their skins was healthy’n’smooth without a speck o’ the scabbin’, but brewy-brown’n’black they was all of ’em, an’ they looked more alike’n other people what you see on Big I. An’ Prescients din’t speak much, nay. Two guards stayed by the shored boats an’ if we asked ’em, What’s your name, sir? or Where you headed, miss? they’d just shake their heads, like sayin’, I won’t answer nothin,’ nay, so don’t ask no more . A myst’rous Smart stopped us goin’ close up. The air got thicker till you cudn’t go no nearer. A dizzyin’ pain it gave you too so you din’t donkey ’bout with it, nay.

The barterin’ took place in the Commons. Prescients spoke in a strange way, not lazy’n’spotty like the Hilo but salted’n’coldsome. By the time they’d landed, the yibber’d been busy an’ most dwellin’s was ‘ready rushin’ baskets o’ fruits’n’veggies’n’meats’n’all to the Commons. Also the Prescients filled spesh casks with fresh water from the stream. In return, Prescients bartered ironware what was better’n any made on Big I. They bartered fair an’ never spoke knuckly like savages at Honokaa, but politesome speakin’ it draws a line b’tween you what says, I respect you well ’nuff but you an’ I ain’t kin, so don’t you step over this line, yay?

Yay, the Prescients’d whoah strict rules ’bout barterin’ with us. They’d not barter gear Smarter’n anythin’ ’ready on Big I. For ‘zample, after Pa was killed, a gath’rin’ agreed to build a garrison by Abel’s Dwellin’ to protect the Muliwai Trail what was our main track from Sloosha’s Crossin’ into our Nine Valleys. Abbess asked the Prescients for spesh weapons to defend us from Kona. The Prescients said nay. Abbess begged ’em, more-less. They still said nay an’ that was that.

‘Nother rule was not to tell us nothin’ ’bout what lay b’yonder the ocean, not even Prescience Isle, ’cept for its name. Napes of Inouye Dwellin’ asked to earn passage on the Ship, an’ that was nearest I seen the Prescients all laugh. Their chief said nay an’ no un was s’prised. We never pushed these rules to bendin’ point, ’cos we reck’ned they did our Civ’lize an honor by barterin’ with us. Abbess’d always invite ’em to stay for a feastin’, but the chief’d always naysay politesome. Back to their boats they’d lug their bartered gear. An hour later the Ship’d be gone, eastly in spring, northly in fall.

So the visits was, ev’ry year, since anyun could mem’ry. Until my sixteenth year, when a Prescient woman called Meronym visited my dwellin’ for a spell, an’ nothin’d be the same, not in my life, not in the Valleys, nay, not never.

Way back up b’hind Vert’bry Pass was a ridge called Moon’s Nest what’d got the best view o’ Windward from the Kohala pastures. One glitt’ry spring aft’noon I was herdin’ up on Moon’s Nest when I spied the Ship ‘proachin’ Flotilla Bay an’ a whoah beautsome sight she was too, blue same as the ocean an’ if you wasn’t lookin’ right at her you’d not see her, nay. Now I knowed I should o’ gone quicksharp to the barterin’ but, see, I’d the goats to minder’n’all an’ by the time I got to the Commons the Prescients’d prob’ly be leavin’ anyhow, so I stayed put an’ lolled, gazin’ on that wondersome Ship o’ Smart what came’n’went with the wild gooses an’ whales.

Well, that’s my reason for stayin’, what I telled myself, tho’ the true reason was a girl called Roses, who’d been gatherin’ palila leafs for her ma’s med’sun-makin’. We’d got a feverish hornyin’ for each other, see, an’ in that druggy skylarkin’ aft’noon I was slurpyin’ her lustsome mangoes an’ moistly fig an’ the true is I din’t want to go nowhere else, an’ Roses din’t gather many palila leafs that day neither, nay. Oh, you’re laughin’ you blushin’ young uns, but time was, yay, I was jus’ as you are now.

Come evenin’ when I herded my goats home, Ma was flappin’ n’anxin’ like a one-wing gander an’ cussin’ me so crazy it was Sussy what I got the hole yibber off. After barterin’ at the Commons, the Prescient chief asked to speak to Abbess in private. After a long beat, Abbess’d come out o’ the meet an’ called a gath’rin’. Valleysmen from the nearby dwellin’s was there, ’cept Bailey’s, our dwellin’. See Ma’d not gone to the Commons neither. So the gath’rin’ kicked off there’n’then. The Prescient chief wants to make a spesh bart’rin’ this year , said Abbess. One Shipwoman wishes to live’n’work in a dwellin’ for half a year, to learn our ways an’ und’stand us Valleysmen. In return, the chief’ll pay us double ev’rythin’ we bartered today. Nets, pots, pans, ironware, ev’rythin’ double. Now think what an honor this is, an’ think o’ what we can get for all the gear at the next Honokaa Barter . Well, it din’t take long for one great Yay! to gather speed round the gath’rin’, an’ Abbess had to shout her next question over the rowdy. Who’s to host our Prescient guest? Oh, that Yay! stopped cold. Folks sudd’nwise had hole bags o’ ’scuses. We ain’t got nuff space. We got two babbits comin,’ our guest cudn’t sleep well. The mozzies round our dwellin’d bite her to shreds . Rusty Volvo that greasy buggah it was who first speaked it. What ’bout Bailey’s Dwellin’? See, Ma nor me wasn’t there to coldwater the plan, an’ it fired hot pretty quick. Yay, they got empty rooms since Pa Bailey was killed! Baileys taked more out o’ Commons’n they put in last harvest, yay, it’s their duty! Yay, they got need o’ workin’ hands at Bailey’s, Ma Bailey’ll be glad o’ the help! An’ so the gath’rin’s say-so was settled.