Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
My friend pauses. "Huh?"
I pause, too. My head really thought that ainokea was a word, but the translation chip has nothing. "Never mind. I think my brain hiccupped."
She chuckles and picks up her knife again. "Drink some water. The last thing we need is your chip short-circuiting. Meanwhile, I'd better finish this chopping before Sabrina notices I'm not done. Enjoy hanging out with the cat guy."
"I'll tell him you said hello," I comment dryly before heading off again. Valmir is the one with the tail, I remind myself. I wind through the encampment, dodging people who are busy at work on the feast. Some are decorating, stringing together painted seeds onto a garland. Others are getting fuel for the fire, and one of the kids is painting the faces of the other children. Some days this beach feels like it's empty, and some days it feels as if it's overflowing with people. Today is the latter, I decide, as I dodge two of the hunters coming in with a horse-sized dead animal, its legs tied to a pole that they have braced on their shoulders. U'dron begins to play his drum, and someone picks up a bone flute, making a little music.
So domestic. So happy. So Outlander meets Clan of the Cave Bear. Everyone's delightful and I love how they work as one big extended family. There might be two dozen huts on the beach, but everyone is in everyone else's business. If someone needs something, they all pitch in and help out. No one's a stranger, and everyone is automatically community. No, more than community. There's a word for it…but it escapes me.
At any rate, I adore the new beach family I have, and I adore the beautiful (if cold) nature here. It makes me feel like this place is already home…not that I can remember home. I have warm, vague memories of a place I was very fond of and a life I was happy with…but not much more than that.
I think it helps that our memories of home back on Earth are all fragmented and messy. Since we're clones, I guess we don't get the full factory install, just pieces of it. I think if I remembered everything I'd left behind on Earth (assuming I wasn't a clone, of course), I'd probably be going mad with grief at this point. As it is, memories feel distant and foggy and crop up only when I least expect them.
Natalie and Vivi might be the luckiest of us all because they don't remember anything. Factory reset for them.
I'm envious. I remember just enough about home to make me frustrated that everyone here is so kumbaya about dead animals and their bones being everywhere. I'm pretty sure Old April would have a nervous breakdown. I remember Old April liked her corner store. She also liked running in a park every morning. I vaguely remember morning coffee and a fresh malasada. I have even vaguer recollections of a guy with perfect teeth and a fun laugh who would sometimes run beside me, and who'd pinch my soft belly and tell me I was getting momona from all the donuts.
I do remember dumping that fucker and continuing to see him on the jogging trail, awkwardly, for months later. Plus one in the ice planet column for no longer seeing that guy around. Fuck that guy, anyhow. He was probably a lousy lay and I'm glad I can't remember otherwise. And fuck him for being the only person I remember.
Otherwise, it's all good. Whatever pieces of my old life show up, I'll take them as they come, with a spirit of ho'omau.
The translator in my head pings a mismatch again, and I put my pinky in my ear and wiggle it, as if I can somehow itch at whatever is bugging my translations.
As I cut through camp, I spot one of the cat guys in the distance and head in that direction with my bucket of spices. At first I'm not sure which one it is — they're both similar in coloring — but then I see a long tail slap against the snowy ground in frustration. No tail is Chalath. That must be Valmir. Perfect.
I approach, but he doesn't seem to notice my arrival. He's too focused on the sand-scorpions that keep climbing out of his bucket. They all look very much alive, and when he picks one up, it immediately stings him. He snarls at it and drops it onto the snow, watching it scuttle away. Kinda makes me wonder how many he started with. I move over to the bucket and peer in, and sure enough, there aren't that many left in there. All alive and climbing over each other. "How's it going with the food?" I ask casually. "I'm supposed to check in and see if you need more flavoring. Doesn't even seem like you've cooked them yet."