A Star, a Stone, a Sculpture, a Sculptor by JM Cyrus
“You know, I could never have imagined you came from somewhere like this.”
Autumn faced the landscape from her vantage point partway up the mountain, out of breath from the steep climb. A wide valley stretched beneath her, curved like a bowl. Sun-drenched, lush blue-green vegetation filled it in a display of plenty; a sparkling pink lake shone in the center of the scoop, ripples from an unseen yet audible waterfall undulating from one side; and four-winged white birds sang an ululating song as they soared above. The scent of unknown flowers eddied in the breeze tousling Autumn’s hair.
“Like what?” the tinny voice answered from a box pinned to the front of Autumn’s canvas dungarees. The box was dull metal, scuffed and stained, measuring only a few inches across. It had curved edges, and mismatching screws held it closed. Someone had decorated it with green stickers in the shape of a smiling face.
“Well, like this,” Autumn opened her arms to the picturesque scene. “It’s so vibrant. Like a jungle back on Earth. Or at least, like the pictures I’ve seen,” she added, muttering the final phrase.
For Autumn had never lived planetside, no one in her family had lived on any planet for six generations. But her birth mother had loved the concept of landscape and terrain, of weather systems, climate and seasons. She had read climatology textbooks, weather forecasts, and farming methodologies to her children as bedtime stories. Autumn’s other mother had shared her wife’s interest, though with less strident devotion, and Autumn and her siblings were named after planetary attributes; Ocean, Sky, and Petal.
This trip, these steps, this handful of days could be counted within the dozen times Autumn had ever stood on an actual planet, feeling gravity’s pull, breathing air from an atmosphere, subject to weather and wildlife.
“Too organic for me, you mean?” the box asked. Its tone contained the wary beginnings of hurt.
“No!” Autumn answered, louder than she wanted in her flustered rush to deny. “I mean, maybe a little? I just couldn’t really picture you amongst so much nature. You know what I mean.” She hoped they knew what she meant.
“I suppose.” The voice was curt.
“Now don’t be like that, Ryat,” Autumn tried to patch the offense, wishing she was not so clumsy. “Even though we’ve been friends for years, I’ve only ever known you on space stations. And you’ve always seemed so at home amongst mech and tech!”
Autumn berated herself for her awkward phrasing, Ryat’s silence creating an opaque wall, halting her admiration of the view’s splendor. Autumn cycled through alternative ways she could have said what she meant, wishing she could be more elegant, comparing herself to her opinions of her friend.
“All right, yes, I will take that.” The voice warmed with understanding, sounding an exhale that was almost a laugh. Autumn sighed with relief.
She tried to commit the view to memory, wishing to cherish its beauty. The bell-jar of azure sky, the birds with their oscillating wings, the few wispy puffs of cloud, and the two moons at different stages of their cycle, one a curved eyelash, the other a bulging gibbous. She wondered whether she could really see a dark shape beyond the blue ceiling of the ship that brought them, or whether she imagined it. She turned to resume their path toward the craggy zenith.
Autumn’s sensible boots made gritty noises on the rocky ground. Occasional scurrying sounds came from the dense undergrowth, but neither of them saw the culprits. Autumn savored the open sweetness of the clear air with every inhale, and its changing scent and flavor. It was a far cry from the air on the factory stations and ships she had spent her life on, and its ever-present algae tang from the processing circulators. Not for the last time, she was thankful for the costly bronchial implant she had had in preparation for this trip, allowing her to breathe alien atmospheres.
As Autumn trudged, she toyed with memories, watching them drift in her recollections. She remembered hers and Ryat’s whole history, all they had been through since their first meeting a decade before. She held the memory of their first encounter close, like a portion of warm rations, full of comfort, nourishment, and necessity. It had been a turning point, derailing her from a path mapped out through her birth and heritage to something far beyond anything she could have dreamed of.
“Do you remember when we first met?” Autumn asked, more spontaneously than she had intended.
“Of course!” Ryat replied. “I will never forget. You were so surprised.”
“It was a surprise! How was I to expect that when I hooked the pile of ‘goodies’ the supervisor had brought me to the sensors that something in the crate would talk back to me through my headset!”
Ryat laughed, the vaguely metallic bubbling noise contagious, making Autumn smile. “Your face was such a picture as you sorted through the pieces to find the source!”
“Good thing I was always so thorough with my work, otherwise you would have been recycled by now. Or worse.”
Autumn felt the pang of painful what-ifs, the shock of alternative futures coating her insides like freezing water. What would have happened if she hadn’t found Ryat amongst the flotsam of an odds and ends box bought at a discount auction? Would Ryat be floating silent somewhere in space, discarded through an illegal rubbish hatch? Or would they be gradually degrading unheard at the bottom of a trash pile on an overwhelmed sorting planet? Or would they merely be inanimate powder, having been incinerated long ago, becoming building material or plant food or stardust? She did not want to consider it, but the thoughts circulated regardless.
“I am not that easy to get rid of,” Ryat’s reassuring voice was more cheerful than Autumn felt it should be. “Fortune has seen fit to grant me many second chances.”
Autumn dwelled on memory, and she felt Ryat watch her. They were silent as Autumn continued walking, following her pad compass, the terrain route demarcated on the tiny map in orange.
The low fern-like undergrowth shifted to dense shrubs and thick trees, their leaves wide with scalloped edges. As they entered the shadows from the bright sunlight, Autumn’s vision hazed for a moment as the shade coated her. After a while, they came to the edge of a sloped clearing, carpeted with red and white flowers. Autumn paused to admire the fluttering wonder.
The screaming call of a bird above them startled her, and she craned to see a pair of wheeling black birds orbiting each other, four wings each outstretched and talons extended, sparkling in the light. They fell and swooped in a display of strength, drawing closer to the clearing and rising again. Autumn gasped as they both fell toward the ground, regaining their flight not even ten feet above the flowers.
The flowers pulsed with the proximity, and the whiteness rose in a whirling tornado. They were not flowers, but butterflies! As one, the susurrating murmuration of lace fluttered into the air and above the trees, dispersing, leaving the red flowers like a pool of fresh blood below. The birds had disappeared in the surprise.
Autumn’s mouth hung open, her heart swelling with astonishment. It took her a moment to grasp her thoughts, and what floated to the top was unexpected.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice surprised even her.
“Sorry for what?” Ryat’s voice contained some of the trance-like echoes Autumn felt after the scene they had just witnessed.
“I’m sorry it’s taken us so long to get here.”
“Ten years is not so long in the grand scheme of things. And we have had quite some adventures getting here.”
“Indeed,” Autumn agreed, smiling.
“I should be thanking you, rather than you apologizing, in any case,” Ryat said.
“How so?”
“Well, firstly, without you I would not have regained my voice. But sincerely, I would not be so close to completion now without you.”
Autumn pondered her life without Ryat in it and felt a pang where her stomach should be. “I think we can thank each other,” she said, her voice low and tender. “Without you, I would still be bored out of my mind working recycling on that sorting ship, making knockoff composites to sell to shady mechanics or on the black market. But thanks to you, I escaped that life and we have had glorious experiences to bring us here.” She chewed her lip as she considered her next sentence. “When we’ve done what we came here to do, it’d be exciting to see what we can achieve together next.” Her ambitions soared like the white butterflies.
Ryat emitted a gentle humming grunt in agreement, and silence settled again over the friends.
Autumn continued on her route, pausing many times to admire the splendor of the planet’s natural world.
“I suppose this is all old news for you,” Autumn said as she crouched behind a shrub, watching some quadruped creatures bend to drink before a pink stream, manes of crested spines glittering in the sunlight strobing through the trees.
“A lot of it is familiar, yes. But when I was part of this world, I was not able to enjoy it in the same way.” Ryat paused, as if choosing their words. “Also, it is very nice to be able to enjoy it with you.”
Autumn felt the warmth of their friendship tickle her insides. A flash of excitement at their mission flared within her.
“Let’s have more of an explore when we’re done,” she suggested.
“I agree,” said Ryat, “and now that we have managed to get here, we can visit plenty of other planets too.”
“I look forward to it,” said Autumn.
The animals paused in their drinking to babble at each other in a staccato rhythm, almost like gossiping.
“I wonder if anyone lives here anymore,” Autumn mused. “The permit for this system didn’t say anything about planetary residents.”
“No.” Ryat’s tone was melancholy. “The peoples were completing the final stages of their emigration when I was taken off-world.”
Autumn did not want to pry, but she felt the uncomfortable prickle of curiosity down her spine. She felt she owed it to her friend to leave the subject alone for now, but maybe later when they had reached the next stage of their plan, they could talk about it.
“How does it feel to be back?” Autumn asked. She listened to the box’s familiar faint background white noise as her friend considered the question.
“Good?” Ryat replied, a questioning uplift at the end betraying an uncertainty that Autumn did not often hear from her friend. She was about to ask for more details when Ryat explained themself. “Nervous, mostly. I am concerned we may not find it in one piece.”
It was Autumn’s turn to do the reassuring. “Hey! No pessimism, Ryat! Even if we find it in pieces we will be able to work something out! After all, until you met me you were mute for how long?”
Ryat sighed, the breathy crackle bizarre from the metal box. “I know, I know. It just feels so close and yet so far.”
The animals moved on, and Autumn continued walking. The slope shifted to a plateau, and the vegetation thinned to tall sparse trees, leaves in pom-pom bunches at the ends of branches. There was the sound of crunching to their left, and Autumn paused to watch an army of ant-like creatures traverse between a hole in the ground and a tree, laboriously bringing back leaves and buds to their nest. Each ant was the size of her hand, and she was fearful about getting too close.
The squawk of the same black birds from earlier sounded above them, and the ants sped in efficient escape, their legs like pistons. The birds swooped and destroyed the last half dozen before they could make it back to safety, smearing black residue from their insides over the ground in the rush to feed.
It was over quickly, the scene visceral and routine.
“Goodness,” Autumn exclaimed.
“All life depends on others, Autumn. The strong float to the top and overpower the weak.” Ryat’s voice was factual and detached.
“I realize, but it’s different seeing it in practice,” Autumn answered, her heart racing from the display of strength.
“Do not lose your nerve, Autumn,” Ryat warned.
Autumn shook her head and swallowed. With a last glance at the shards of shell and casing, she resumed her hike.
Eventually, a wide wall of reddish stone rose before them, casting them in shadow. The rockface was smoothed and pockmarked by countless years of rain and wind, the hints of shapes in its forms. Autumn ran her hand over the stone, tracing the lines of strata in various shades of orangey-browny-red. Autumn studied the bulbous, weathered surface.
“I think this looks how you described it, don’t you?” Autumn murmured, frowning at the formation.
“It does,” Ryat answered.
“It looks like it could’ve once been a frieze,” Autumn whispered, and pointed at various parts above her, the sculpting details long since faded, “That could be a face there. But the features look strange, like the face has three eyes? And the nostrils are on the forehead?” Autumn’s arms dropped to her sides, and she glanced at the box at her chest. “And the arms look odd too. Is that what your people looked like?”
Ryat’s tone was objective, as if giving a lesson. “Mostly. Though some experimented with moving their features. By the time of the emigration they had chosen their preferred appearance for once off-world. They no longer looked like this.”
Autumn exhaled a “Huh,” but her thoughts churned at the almost-physicality before her of a forgotten people. Curiosity snapped at her heels, making her palms itch. She wished to know more about all of this. She knew she would soon.
“The entrance should be to the right a bit.” Ryat’s words interrupted her musing.
Autumn walked along the rockface, hands trailing the lines of strata and feeling the bumps of what could have been hands or legs or arms of the figures depicted.
A large knotted vine of purple flowers with ragged yellow coronas and star-shaped leaves tumbled down the rockface, clinging to itself as it wound its way to the ground. It smelled alive and musky, almost like sweat. Autumn brushed it aside. An opening gaped behind like a hidden wound. The air was cooler here, and a gust of tunnel air caressed her face, smelling like salt and minerals.
“In we go,” Ryat commented.
Autumn strapped on her head-torch and entered, following the downward-sloping tunnel. The floor may have once been paved or at least shaped into steps, but it had long since smoothed, with occasional points where Autumn needed to pause to step down a larger edge. Ryat was silent, a faint buzz the only indication that they were still present. Her uneven gait distracted Autumn from what was about to happen, the cumulation of years of endeavor.
Ryat had worked with her to bring them both here. They had fostered her curiosity, bolstering her confidence in changing work in a trajectory away from unsavory manual labor to things more independent and respectable. Ryat had coached her in skills and studies that themselves gave Autumn more self-respect. In all this, the flames of her ambition were properly ignited, aspirations no longer something she felt restricted from. Through ten years of careful enterprise, they had created a network of contacts right across the galaxy, as well as more credits than Autumn could have ever dreamed of. Together, Autumn and Ryat had powerful aspirations, and this mission was the next step in their plan.
But Autumn did not think of all this. Instead, she concentrated on keeping herself upright and moving, hearing the sounds of the outside fade into the distance, and breathing the musty air.
After what felt like hours, the tunnel ended and the space expanded into a cavern. Trickling water echoed, loud after the enveloping quiet of the tunnel. Columns of orange-brown stalactites and stalagmites filled the space, the ones beyond her torchlight beam reminiscent of a crowd of bodies.
The friends had not spoken most of the way, and Autumn broke their silence. “Remind me what I am looking for here.” Autumn’s voice felt invasive in the space, too breathy and soft of texture for the stone hardness around her.
“A tall cuboidal block of black stone, standing alone. It will have a niche about six feet from the floor,” recited Ryat.
Autumn navigated the space, weaving between the towers and needles of rocky formations. She felt observed, more so than usual with Ryat’s uncanny ability to sense the world about their metal container.
When she found it, Autumn let out a whistle of impressed amazement. “Now, that’s big. It must be at least fifteen feet tall, Ryat.” She touched the stone, feeling its hard coolness. She wondered what it was, marble or obsidian or something else. The surface shone in her light, the strange distorted reflections mixing with veins within the stone, hinting at shapes, figures or things just beyond its skin, a pareidolia of unknown faces.
“This whole trip feels like a fever dream,” she muttered, as she circumnavigated the block, running her hands over its curved edges.
“There’s the alcove.” Ryat’s voice punctured her contemplation. Autumn sucked her teeth and put her hands on her hips as she looked up.
“You ready, Ryat?” she asked.
“Never been more ready.” Ryat’s voice was impatient.
Autumn knelt on the floor and unpinned the box from her front, placing it on the ground before her. She took a screwdriver from her pocket, and with delicate and steady hands she undid the screws at each corner and side.
“Careful, please.” Ryat’s voice was oddly muffled and echoed as the screws were taken out.
“Always,” answered Autumn, as she lifted the lid, placing it beside the other half.
Within the box was a tangle of wires and cables. Brushing a few aside, Autumn revealed a star-shaped gold-colored crystal, glowing in its nest. Its light pulsed in almost the rhythm of a heartbeat or even breaths.
Autumn freed the crystal, untangling the wires and detaching their tape from the crystal’s sides. There was a final flare of “Careful!” before Ryat went silent, even the constant crackle disappearing. Autumn held the liberated crystal level with her eyes, staring at the shooting stars and fireworks within. The reflections echoed in her shining eyes.
“All right, then.” Autumn stood, holding the crystal and pocketing the box and wires. She craned on her tiptoes and reached for the alcove, where she placed the crystal. It settled into a dip in the shelf with a click.
The room instantly vibrated, making Autumn lose her footing. She took a step away from the rock, reaching for it to steady herself, but yanked her hand away with a pained hiss. It was searing hot! She lost her balance and sat on the floor with a thud.
The rock gleamed, the black form glowing from within with heat. Autumn could see the crystal in its alcove absorbing into the pillar as the stone liquified. The black stone shifted like magma or syrup, churning and frothing around a shape deep within its center. Autumn felt she was watching the stone be material and sculptor both at once.
The rock reshaped itself, shrinking and tightening and toning. After several minutes, a figure emerged, glistening and lithe. An androgynous humanoid shape of twelve feet tall stood before Autumn, the glimmering star crystal at its throat like a pendant. It was clothed in sparkling folds of fabric that hung in liquid soft luxury about its form. It had four arms and three eyes, and it flexed and stretched, muscle definition clear in the head-torch light. Autumn sat motionless, splayed on the floor in her fall, her face slack in astonishment.
The figure looked to her, its features relaxing. It approached and crouched before her, their eyes meeting with an intensity that made Autumn feel very small.
“Hello, Autumn.” The voice was unfamiliar, lilting and husky. But the accented cadence of its speech was so familiar it made tears gather in Autumn’s eyes. “What do you think?”
“Ryat?” Autumn whispered.
“Living and breathing, thanks to you,” the figure bowed its head.
Autumn smiled, and Ryat stood, gesturing at the cavern.
“Now let’s claim what is ours!”
JM Cyrus writes whenever there is a chance, and reads even when there isn’t one. With a master’s degree in Reception Theory, and a thesis on the reader’s imagination, she feels academically validated to essentially play make-believe in her head. Her work can be found in over a dozen anthologies, magazines and online venues, such as Improbable Press, Speculation Publications, Utopia Science Fiction, Luna Station Quarterly, Orion’s Beau, Star*Line and AntipodeanSF. A full list is available at her website. Say hello at jmcyrus.writer [at] gmail.com.