Bread and the Circus

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

What stuck with me most, I think, were the smells.  I’d never really thought about wind and sun having smells before, but standing out there in the middle of them, I couldn’t help but be struck by how clean it was out there in the wilderness.  Clean, bright, dappled in sun and kissed by wind, with just a few lingering hints of the early morning mist that kept the grass alive, though most of that had cleared.  I think I’d read somewhere about how sun and wind were nature’s way of purifying things, and now I had the proof.

Looking out from the landing pad, my view only slightly obscured by the very faint blue haze that marked the boundaries of the protective force field, I kept thinking about how much of a contrast these rolling fields of tall grass – tall enough to go over my head by the look of it, though I wouldn’t know for sure until I stepped out into the stuff – made to the noise and stink of the city.  And I’d been at the top of the ivory towers!  I could only imagine what Mac must think, her senses finally free to work without interference for what must be the very first time ever.

Curious now, I looked over at my companion, with whom I had indeed been paired, just like our foxy friend back in the cafeteria had guessed would happen.  She was looking out over the seemingly endless expanse of the veldt just like I was, her eyes slightly squinted in the bright light, undimmed by the press of buildings and reflective, solar power-catching awnings, her head panning slightly back and forth as she took the measure of the place.

“I wonder where all the cameras are,” were the first words out of her mouth, and I snorted in laughter.  Yeah, that was Mac, all right!  “What?” she asked, glancing at me, genuinely confused.

“Nothing,” was my reply, though I could tell it didn’t satisfy her, so I changed subjects.  “Weird how, after all this travel, it’s still only early morning around here.”

“That’s the way the world turns,” Mac chuckled, her nose crinkling for a moment as she turned slowly, scanning the horizon…and then frowned.  “That doesn’t look safe.”

I followed her gaze, and winced in agreement.  Off in the distance, halfway between us and the horizon, was a gleaming white building.  From our distance it looked pretty big.  Up close, it had to be absolutely cyclopean.  There were pillars and pilasters all around it to soften its edges, though the main structure of the place was a blocky cube, and there looked to be a garden of some sort surrounding it.  A hedge maze?  The place was like some twisted cross between neo-classical and Alice in Wonderland…or maybe the building with the sphinx from H. G. Wells’ The Time Machine.  It was also obviously deadly; after all, Alice got to wake up before the really bad stuff happened to her.  No such luck for us.

Mac was already turning again, still going nice and slow, taking in the surrounding terrain.  Since I was pretty sure we weren’t going anywhere near that big white building anytime soon – the place just screamed “dungeon,” and I knew we weren’t ready for the challenges of whatever lay in one of those, not fresh off the transport – I joined her, both of us not speaking for a while as we took stock of the lay of the land.

The first place we both noticed was a copse of trees, a few good hours’ walk away from us.  While I wasn’t all that fond of the idea of leaving the security of the force field surrounding the landing zone, I also knew that it would shut down after a while anyway, and I could clearly remember Frayd Luce’s advice about looking for shelter, water, and food as soon as possible.  There was a stream running right by the little grove, probably where it got the water it needed to be so lush in a place that was mostly just high, dry grass, so that was the water issue dealt with, while shelter and food were things typically associated with woody places.  If nothing else, we could probably climb a tree and wait out at least some of the dangers we were going to go up against.

“I can see some mountains way off,” Mac said suddenly, pointing out the thin line of blue rock out on the horizon.  “Maybe there are hills around them.  The rest of the place, though,” she shook her head.  “All I see is grass from where we are; this platform just isn’t high enough for us to see much more.  What about you?”  I shook my head, making it clear I agreed with her, and was pretty sure her eyes were better than mine anyway in this endless expanse of goldenrod-colored fields.  “Then we should head to those trees,” she said with a decisive nod.  “Climb one and get a proper look around.”

“Like Bilbo Baggins in Mirkwood,” I agreed with an approving nod.  “Maybe we can start a fire in there as well, someplace where it won’t be noticed so easily.”

“Maybe not seen,” Mac said over her shoulder as she walked to the edge of the force field, then stepped through with only the slightest hesitation.  “But on this high, windy plain?  Scent is sure to carry to everything in the vicinity, no matter what we do.”  She shook her head, her expression grim.  “We’ll just have to set up camp fast, like Frayd suggested, and hope there’s nothing already making its lair in there.  If there is…” she broke off with a shrug.  “You coming?”

“Yeah,” I answered, swallowing nervously, then blinking as I ran my tongue over my teeth, walking quickly to catch up to Mac, but not too quickly: I wasn’t at all eager to leave the perceived safety of the force field, even if I knew it was only a mental illusion.  “Do your teeth feel clean, too?  I don’t even think I’ve got any bad breath from the meal we just had.”

“Stat suits,” Mac answered, slowing her walk to let me catch up with her as we stepped down the short stairs leading to the landing platform and out into the endless waves of grass, pushing it aside as we made twin rows, like moles burrowing through a garden.  “I guess they clean our teeth, too, as well as our insides.  Keeps us from having to worry about cavities.”

“Heh,” I chuckled.  “If there wasn’t the constant fear of death, this would actually be a pretty fun way to camp out.  My family used to go camping, back when I was very little, and they still let us leave the cities for the national parks sometimes.  Father insisted on bringing as many of the modern conveniences as he could, though, so I don’t know the first real thing about roughing it.  As I think about it, I’m not entirely sure why we bothered, considering that the most rugged outdoor experience I can remember was going to the bathroom outside.”

That got Mac to laugh, and she gave me a friendly poke in the arm (of course she would: she was raised with a bunch of rowdy brothers, after all).

“Nothing like that in my childhood,” she admitted as we pressed forward, finding the going actually pretty easy, aside from having to keep pushing the grass out of our way, which did start to make my arms ache after a while (thankfully the gloves on the stat suit kept my hands from getting torn by the sharper blades of grass).  “We’ve always been city folks, I guess.  I did get to go on a few field trips that took us out to see the farms where food was made – back when there were still a few farms, I mean, instead of the hydroponic factories – and Mom made sure we went swimming every chance we got at the local pool, but that’s about all the survival training I’ve had.”

“Maybe the stat suit has something in it to help us,” I mused, frowning in some thought as I puzzled over how to make the silly thing work.  “Surely they wouldn’t want to spoil a good show just because their contestants didn’t know how to do anything entertaining, like build a fire.”

“Didn’t we hear something about a heads-up display, or something like that?” Mac asked, moving in front of me, using her body to do the heavy work of parting the stalks, making it easier for me – not that I was complaining of course; even in the relative cool of the morning, getting through all that tall grass was a lot harder than I’d thought, especially since most of them were a lot thicker than I’d come to expect from grass, based on what I’d read.  “Think maybe you can figure out how to turn it on?”

“Maybe…um…HUD turn on?” I said to the air, and blinked as I was immediately rewarded with a soft flicker of light, followed by a screen that danced before my eyes.  “Wow…that did it!  Um, can you see anything in front of me, Mac, or is the display for my eyes only?”

“Nada,” Mac responded with a glance back toward me.  “Hopefully this is a quiet time, while they let us settle in, without sending the hordes to come get us right off the transport.  I mean, I can understand how exciting true randomness can be, but seriously, slaughtering the newbies before they get any sort of chance just couldn’t be much fun for anybody but the real sickos who watch this show.  It’s an assumption, but if it’s wrong we’re probably screwed anyway, so let’s work with it, right?”

“Right,” I agreed.  “So I guess I’ll use the time to poke through the display while you…oh, well,” I’d moved my hand a little while I talked, raised up before my face, and that had been all it took to make the display shift in response to the gesture.  “Guess this will be easier than I thought: it’s a touch display, too, so I can just…here we go.  And sure enough: they included a big list of directions on how to do all sorts of stuff.  Guess it’s cribbed from a military survival manual, maybe the same one from when these suits were meant for the military only.  Let me just look over some of these guides, and I think I can figure out how to get our first base camp together once we hit the trees.”

Mac kept quiet then, just moving her body with a slight swaying motion as she kept tramping through the grass, the movement enough to bend the stalks a lot more to each side, giving me plenty of room to move without getting smacked by any stray vegetation, or have any of the grass distract me too much from what I was reading.  Once I found the section on starting fires, of course, I started reading it out loud to Mac, kind of liking the sound of my own voice – of any voice, actually – in the stillness of that great green-and-gold field.  All the books and other stuff I’d encountered always made mention of the buzzing of insects, the chirping of birds and frogs, and similar sorts of background noises that were supposed to be a part of any natural setting.  Out here, though, on the Arena, an artificial planet made for the amusement of a star-spanning civilization, the only sounds were from the wind, and from us.  A rational part of me said that I should keep quiet and reduce the amount of noise we made as much as possible so as not to attract whatever might be out there, because whatever it was, it would be hostile.  But another part of me didn’t like the silence and the creeping horror that I could feel lurking around its edges.  I guess Mac must have felt the same way, because she was more than smart enough to know the dangers of making noise as well as I did, maybe more, but she didn’t shush me, not once.

All the same, I did try to keep my voice down.

“There’s the safety notes at the start,” I began.  “Keep all loose clothes, hair, fur, feathers, and everything that you don’t want to burn tied back and out of the way.  Make sure to clear the area around the fire, so it doesn’t hop out and get out of control.  Use protective gear like goggles and whatever if you’ve got them.”

“Which we don’t,” added Mac wryly.

“Which we don’t,” I agreed, skipping ahead with a flick of my finger in the air (and trying not to think of how silly the motion must look to an idle observer, or the viewers at home).  “Okay, let’s say we only have some sticks, which is pretty likely, all things considered.  The document says to first build the fire pit.  Mark it off with stones, to better keep it from escaping.  Hmm, there’s a bunch of different types…um…let’s say we want a ‘log cabin’ fire, since that’s supposed to last a long time.  Just build up tinder, or light, dry stuff to start the fire, in a sort of cone, then start laying down logs in a square shape around the tinder once it’s hot enough to make them catch.  Then just keep adding to the square, making something sort of like a log cabin in appearance, kind of triangular, or maybe like a pyramid, with more kindling on top, the light stuff, to get the fire going all over.  When you’re done with the fire, you sprinkle water over it lightly, stirring it to make it all go out, but making sure not to flood it, since that makes it hard to start a new fire in the same place when you need one.”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Mac groused, half glancing back at me.  “But what about actually getting the fire going in the first place?  Knowing how to make a pit to keep your fire is one thing, and I guess it’s important, just like getting a dog house if you’re gonna get a dog.  And I guess it’s also good to know how to take care of the dog, feed it and dose it with medicine and discipline it so it doesn’t bite you.  But what about the dog?”

What about the dog, indeed.

“Lots of kindling,” I continued, skipping ahead past the text (and noting that there weren’t any pictures; in fact, the whole guide was written for extreme brevity, leaving out huge chunks of detail that might have been pretty nice to have).  “Dry stuff, like small twigs, dry leaves, that sort of stuff.  Finer texture in tinder is better, it says, and that’s how you get it started, getting the fire hot enough so it can start using the bigger logs and whatever.  Find a board or plank or a stretch of bark as a platform, and get the tinder ready on it.  Then get a straight stick, and start twisting it between your hands like a drill.  Make sure all the wood and kindling and everything is really dry…and whoever wrote the guide put that in bold text, too, so it’s probably important.  Then start working the drilling stick, building up friction next to the tinder on the fire board until it starts to smoke.  Then blow on it lightly to get oxygen over the smoke, and hope for flame.  And repeat until you’ve got fire.”

“Sounds simple enough,” said Mac, and I blinked as I noticed the sudden dimming of light all around us, making me look up from the display in front of me at the strange green ceiling over our heads.  “And it looks like you’ll have plenty of opportunity to try it out while I look this place over and make sure we’re alone.”

Huh, so this was a forest.  The place was more real than those parks I barely remembered from childhood, more tangled and overgrown, and lacking any of the plug-ins for the camping vehicles that we’d always used.  But after a little push into the copse, the underbrush suddenly gave way to a clearing, arched overhead with the branches of trees, but with a gap right in the middle of them, letting in the sun like a spotlight.

“Maybe a lightning strike?” I asked Mac, and she grunted her agreement as she started moving around the perimeter of the clearing.  “At least, I guess it’s supposed to look like a lightning strike.  It’s awfully convenient, though.”

“Too convenient, obviously,” Mac agreed.  “I think that might be a good thing in this case, though: it means we were meant to be here, and maybe even use it as our first base camp.”  She eyed the beams of sunlight pouring through the gap in the canopy.  “That’s just too cinematic not to be on purpose,” she stated, and I laughed my agreement.  “I think I see some vines over there, running around one of the trees, and I think they’ve got some fruit growing on ‘em.  I’m gonna see if I can pull up the feature on the stat suits to test and see if we can eat the stuff, whatever it is.  You get started on that firepit.  I’ll come back soon, once I find out if we’ve got food here as well as that stream for water, and help out.  Sound good?”

Sounded great, and I got right to the business at hand.  Actually, it wasn’t all that hard.  I guess, artificially made or not, the clearing had probably been scoured by a real fire to fully simulate a lightning strike, and that made getting the forest floor clear pretty easy, mostly just consisting of scooping up the stray detritus and tossing it outside the area where I was going to build the fire.  A few stray rocks in a circle later (a process made a lot faster when Mac showed up to help, along with an armful of weird fruit), and a collection of the flammable sort of detritus from all the previous work I’d done, along with a straight stick and a hunk of old wood, and I was good to get started.

“Let’s take a break,” Mac said just when I’d gotten everything together to get the fire going, passing me one of the fruits, a sort of gourd-shaped plant with a sweet smell to it.  “Just tear off the top bit,” she instructed me.  “It’s like a juice box, but without the straw.  I tried one earlier while I was checking them out.  According to the suit, the stuff inside is safe.  Since it’s pretty wet, I guess it’s mostly water, and it’s not all that filling, but I think it’ll be enough to keep us alive for a while if nothing else presents itself.”

Taking Mac’s advice, I got a grip on the leafy top of the gourd, and then gave it a good, hard twist.  Almost right away, it tore right off, and suddenly I was grateful for the lack of bugs: if there’d been a lot of the natural parts of any viable ecosystem, we’d have been swarmed by the things the moment they picked up the smell of sweet nectar that hit my nostrils.  Taking a look at the reddish goop inside, I tipped it back, finding it about the same consistency as a very thick mango granita, if such a thing could be made without any ice, and at room temperature.  Slurping the stuff up was pretty easy, if a little messy, and I had to agree with Mac: it wasn’t all that filling, but two or three of these things could make a fairly decent light meal, if nothing else was available.

Once we’d finished our snack, we took a short break, figuring we’d done enough for a little while.  But only for a little while, because just a few minutes later (judging from the clock on the HUD I still had up, though I’d closed most of the various windows, keeping it to a bare minimum for now so as not to get too distracted) Mac was up again, her face turned toward the canopy.

“We need to take a look around properly,” she declared, though I’d been expecting her to say something along those lines; after all, she’d mentioned it once already back at the transport pad.  “I don’t think we ought to be alone when we’re going anything, though: there’s no telling what could happen while one of us is doing something away from the other.  I mean, you could get ambushed down here, or something with wings and claws could grab me while I’m up there.”

“You’re asking if I feel up to climbing a tree with you, Mac?” I asked with a lightly teasing smile.  Honestly, her blush at that was kind of adorable.  “Hey, it’s not a problem.  I’m kind of looking forward to it, honestly, and I don’t want to be left behind if I can help it.”

Truth be told, I kind of expected the climb to be pretty hard, but I was pleasantly surprised: the tree we eventually settled on was this twisty, gnarled thing, and while the bark was kind of rough all over, the stat suits kept it from tearing into our skins too much.  That meant that the roughness of the bark, while a bit uncomfortable when it pressed against my body, ended up being a good thing, since it made for great and plentiful hand- and footholds, as did its weird-looking twisty surface.

“This thing is our go-to tree,” Mac declared when we’d gotten most of the way to the top, both of us thankfully in pretty good shape, city life or not, because while there were plenty of places to stop and rest, it was kind of a long climb.  “It’s easy to climb, and way up, too, so when we need to get some high ground, we go here first.”

“Maybe we’ll even do some building on the bigger, flatter branches,” I agreed.  “The way they’re all curled in on themselves in places, that should make for lots of space to put a tree house, or something like one.”

“That’s a good idea,” Mac replied, giving me a hand up as we reached the top, and then pressed on through the canopy.  “Thinking ahead like that is just what we should…” she trailed off slowly, blinking.  I had to admit, I didn’t feel like saying much for a while either.  Not with a view that like before us, just filling up our whole world.

Even without saying anything, we still stuck to the original plan: scout the place out, to see what the terrain would be like.  There were the mountains, a lot easier to see from this height, but closer to us were foothills, and then a deep, rocky area where the stream turned into a river, and ran through the place like a bright blue ribbon, cutting down the terrain as though it had been at work for centuries, rather than having been put there just four years ago.    My heads-up display placed the gulleys and hills and mountains off to the north, which meant the stream ran from south-to-north in direction.  Weird, since I’d figured that the water would run downhill from the mountains, but I’m not the one who built this crazy world.

Shifting around, still scanning the horizon, we could see more grass to the east, but soon it gave way to a deep, wild-looking forest, probably a temperate rainforest.  That place did not look safe, with thick underbrush I could see even from up here, and I could swear that I heard screams from somewhere inside of it.  Of course, if that were true, that meant our assumption that they didn’t spring the nasty stuff on you right away was dangerously false.  Either that, or maybe our assumption was right, but only for newbies like us; if some veteran had gone off and run into more than could be easily handled right off the transport, that was a different story.  I hoped that was the case, because otherwise we were even more doomed than I’d initially thought.

Off to the south was a scrubby region that soon turned into the glistening expanse of a marsh, with stands of trees all over doing little to conceal the extensive wetlands.  Needless to say, that was also going to be a pretty dangerous place, based on everything I’d ever read about swampland of any sort.  There was probably some big body of water beyond the marsh, if the designers of this iteration of the Arena had any sense, since a sea or really big lake would be perfect for keeping the wetlands wet, but of course we couldn’t count on that kind of assumption around here.

Finally we were both looking toward the west, and that was grass, grass, and more grass, as far as the horizon.  With that big, ominous white building right in the middle of our field of view, of course, I think we were both a little too distracted to pick up on too many additional details.  Hopefully we wouldn’t have to worry about anything else from that direction.  Hopefully we’d never have to worry about that building at all.  I kept getting flashbacks to how the morlocks from that old book had given me nightmares as a child, and that was all the incentive I needed to decide that the place was going to be off-limits as far as I was concerned.

“We’re right in the middle,” Mac suddenly declared.  “This place is our fort, and on all sides are the enemy.”

It was a declaration of war against the world, and something about the way she said it filled me with a sense of…I don’t quite know.  Valor, maybe.  All I could do was nod in response; it’s not every day you get to be a hero in your own story, after all.

“Let’s get back down,” I said to Mac, reaching toward the nearest branch beneath me with one foot as I spoke.  “I want to get back to work on building that fire.”

“And I wanna see what sort of weapons I can make with what we’ve got around here,” Mac agreed, moving to join me on the long climb down.

And it wasn’t even quite noon yet.

*

Somewhere off in the tall grass, hidden from view even from the high ground, hostile eyes watched the two humans as they went back down the tree.  While the additional height had allowed them to see a great deal more, it had also allowed them to be seen.

Giving a soft whistle, the owner of those eyes started off toward the north, making sure not to leave even a ripple in the grass as it went.  It had news to share.

News of fresh meat.