Technocracy: WATER, Part 1

Marin twirled her hair, and breathed, and sighed.

“We still haven’t forgiven you, you know.”

“I know.”

She said this, and she breathed her breath out, and turned to Lindsey, who wore her hair shorter these days. She’d gotten it cut a few months ago, and had kept it short.

Marin saw this, and turned her head to the side, and said, “Linds, you should have kept your hair long. It would have looked better on you.”

Lindsey bared her fangs. “My hair? You’re commenting on my hair? What about you, freaky? With those blue streaks?”

Marin’s long black hair by now was filled with streaks of blue,

Blue hair had grown more and more on her as weeks had passed,

So that these days her hair was shot through with navy chunks,

And she idly fingered one length of her hair, so long,

Seeing how the hair was such a wat’ry, navy blue,

and she said in response, “You know what? It doesn’t look so bad.”

“You really are a total freak. I should have realized that from the start. You deserve your three freak friends. Go hang out with them for all four years of high school.”

“Marin!”

She turned. Terry was waving at her, as he and Ardo and Saera stood over near the entrance to the school. And she turned to Lindsey. And she smiled brightly. “You know what? I will. See ya, Linds.” And with a skip in her step, and a smile on her face, Marin hurried off to join her friends.

It was January and the air was very cold.

So the three teenagers’ breaths were hanging in the air.

They all turned as Marin said “Hey guys!” and walked to them,

All of them wearing their coats and wearing sweaters thick.

Ardo’s hair had turned more red: there were more crimson streaks

Running through his chin-length hair, and his eyebrows as well.

Likewise Saera’s hair had more white chunks amid its cut,

White like the white snow still visible upon the ground.

Even Terry: as he turned, his hair gleamed in the sun,

Shone that bronzeish brown as chunks of his hair caught the light,

Because that reflective brown, metallic brown was there,

More and more there in his hair—it no longer could hide.

Marin squinted her eyes as the glint of the light from Terry’s hair played upon her face. Terry saw it and brushed his bangs aside. “Sorry.”

“No big deal,” she said. “I’m going to have to get used to it, right?”

“You down for us all meeting at my place tomorrow?” asked Terry.

“Yep,” said Marin. “No backouts from you two?” she asked Ardo and Saera.

“I shall be there,” said Saera.

“I’m in,” said Ardo.

“Great,” said Terry. School was ending; they had all agreed to gather here and assess their plans in person, ahead of the weekend. As he looked up, he could see the buses assembling in their usual lanes. “Okay,” he said. “So we’re agreed that Marin goes first?”

“She does appear to have the most control so far,” said Saera.

“I coughed up a fireball, okay?” said Ardo. “Does that mean nothing to you people?”

“You should go soon after,” said Saera. Saera felt the pricking of her heart. She sighed, and closed her eyes, and breathed.

All four of them felt the air be whipped into a swirl,

Cold and frigid winds came bending round them as they stood.

Marin shuddered at the wintry winds that overcame,

Crawling, creeping into all the gaps in her big coat,

And, as she looked, to her wonder, she saw Saera’s hair

Change a little: saw a part that was platinum blonde

Turn a bright, stark, shocking white, as she was standing there.

“Neat,” said Ardo, softly, as Saera’s eyes came open again.

“I have been trying to practice,” said Saera. “I don’t know what I’m doing. We have no method. We have no textbooks or teachers to guide us in this… whatever we might call it. We are totally on our own.”

“But you’ve gotten a hold of something,” said Terry. “Seems like you’re not doing so badly.”

“No,” said Saera. “That is why either Ardo or myself should be the ones we explore after Marin. Marin has the most control so far. It seems to have come to her… more naturally, I guess. And to Ardo and to me next.” Saera turned, and eyed Terry; they were almost the same height. She smiled gently. “You do not seem to be progressing like the three of us, Terry.”

“Hmm,” huffed Terry, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t really been trying. I haven’t been practicing.”

“You should,” said Marin.

“But, regardless,” said Saera, “Marin is correct, and accurate, when she said that she should go first. And you, probably, should go last, Terry. In between it will either be me then Ardo, or Ardo then men.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Ardo.

“Great,” said Marin. She glanced towards the assembling cars. “Oop! My mom’s here. I’ll see you guys tomorrow at Terry’s!”

The next morning, Marin awoke. She yawned, stretching and cracking her back. Wandering into her bathroom, she did the same thing she’d been doing for weeks now, from January into February: she checked her hair. Her long hair was now, as mentioned, heavily streaked with navy blue. Marin wondered how long it would be before there was more blue in her hair than black. Yet there seemed to be no change to what she had possessed the previous night. No major changes to her eyebrows, either. She leaned in. Her eyelashes had also begun to change to navy blue, bit by bit, but they did not appear to have changed overnight.

But on a hunch, she pulled her sleep shirt off. She lifted her left arm,

And to her surprise she saw some scant navy blue hairs,

Underneath her armpit, there amid the sallow skin,

Blue, a navy blue, that glinted like the open sea.

Marin shuddered at this. She tugged a blue chunk of armpit hair and held it up, seeing it in the mirror. It was one thing to just have her hair change. Just her hair, the hair on her head, was one thing. But now she had navy blue hair in her armpit, and maybe… elsewhere. She checked her arms, and the wisps of hair upon them; were they blue? If not, it seemed they would be soon. She stared starkly into the mirror. She really was going to have blue hair everywhere. It couldn’t be stopped.

Marin drew in a deep breath. And she stared into the mirror, her blue eyes unblinking, and she searched for that thing. That thing, she had found. The thing she could feel. It was so hard to explain. She couldn’t explain it. But she felt it. It was there. She pressed closer to the mirror. She could feel it. She stared harder. She could feel it…

“Marin!”

“Oh!” she said, hissing in anger as the moment was broken. “Coming, Mom!”

“Marin, darling, you don’t want to be late for hanging out with your friends, do you? Come eat your breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah, coming!” said Marin, hastily exiting her bathroom.

“It’s good to see you all spending more time together,” said Bellona at the table, as Marin ate her sausages and eggs. “I think those three are better for you than your other friends.”

Marin paused in between bites. She smiled. “I think so too, Mom.”

“I do want you to be careful at Terry’s house. His father is a bit difficult, from what I’ve experienced. If you ever feel unsafe there please call the police.”

“I will!” said Marin brightly.

“Not because of Terry himself, of course.” Bellona bowed her head. “Sometimes I’ve wondered if it might be better to find a home for Terry. Some place he’d be safer.”

Marin remembered her night in the woods, eating fish around the roaring fire. “Terry has said he’s happy where he is.”

“Children are not always the best judge of these things, Marin,” said Bellona. “And it’s been safe so far. But if I ever get word…” Bellona’s eyes narrowed. “You would tell me if something had happened, wouldn’t you, Marin?”

“O-Oh,” said Marin, casting her eyes to the side. “Yeah, sure, I definitely would, Mom.”

“Hmm,” said Bellona. “Well, finish your breakfast. As I said, you don’t want to be late.”

Breakfast done, Marin brushed her teeth and dressed. She had begun to pay mind to her changing hair color when picking out clothes. Today she put on a brown dress, and wore dark gray leggings with black boots. And she hopped into the car shortly after, which was already started, its electric motors idling noiselessly.

“There she is!” said Terry, sitting on the front step of his house. Ardo was leaned against the front door, idly snapping his fingers.

Here and there the snapping gave off flickers of faint sparks.

Terry was wearing blue jeans and a blue and white rugby shirt. Ardo wore heavy olive-colored pants and a thick brown sweater. As Marin was hopping out of her mother’s car, she saw the familiar sight of Aemelia’s car pulling up as well. “Yo!” said Marin brightly as Saera’s door opened, and she thrust her long legs out and put her feet on the ground. Saera was wearing sky blue pants and a cream-colored turtleneck sweater. It was not as cold as it had been a few days ago, so they were all able to avoid wearing their heavy coats.

“I shall see you later, Saera,” said Aemelia. “Just text me when you’re ready to be picked up.”

“Yes, Mama,” said Saera. “Hey!” she said as she turned to Marin.

“See you later, Mom!” said Marin, waving over her shoulder, and then, turning to her best friend, she grinned. “You ready to get started?”

“Careful,” said Saera, putting a finger to her lips. Marin blanched, and glanced over her shoulder. Both her mother’s and Aemelia’s cars had shut their doors, and as she watched, both of them pulled away back onto the street. Saera kept her finger held to her lips until both cars were out of sight. Then she said, “Remember, we must be careful. We must not let on what we’re doing.”

“Yeah, okay, right,” said Marin, nodding. “So, now that they’re gone, are you ready to get started?” Marin waggled her multi-colored eyebrows at her friend.

Saera smiled impishly. “Yes. This should be very interesting.”

“You all ready to get started?” Terry asked as the two girls came close.

Saera chuckled under her breath, but said nothing. She looked at Ardo, who grinned at her and waved. “I am, yes,” said Saera.

“Thanks for letting us use your place, Terry,” said Marin. “It’s basically the perfect spot for us to start experimenting.”

“Yes,” said Saera. “It is highly convenient to have all this empty land, with no one around to observe us. The woods, too, are useful.”

“Definitely,” said Terry. “The woods and the ravines will give us even more cover. We can do everything without anyone seeing.”

“So let’s go already,” said Ardo. “We gonna sit around talking or are we going to get to business?”

“Come on,” said Terry. “Follow me.”

He led the other three around the corner of his house, down a route much like the one he had trod with Marin, all those months ago. They wended around the house, along the side yard, and made for the cover of the gloomy dark trees ahead. As mentioned, it was warmer today than it had been a few days prior, so there was no snow on the ground, just a wetness, a dampness, from where the snow had melted, leaving squishing dead grass and little puddles every which way. Terry gripped a tree branch and swung his route to the left, taking them down a muddy path into the ravine. Marin was glad she had worn her boots. Saera wore multipurpose rain boots, while Ardo just had his tennis shoes on. Terry himself wore boots as well.

Soon enough, they all could hear the flow and the motion of the stream, running as it did fast and cold, colder than ever in these chilly Winter months. Marin could feel that thing, again. That thing. That thing. She felt it, and it puzzled her. What was it? It was there. But what was it?

The stream suddenly burst and spat, popping up in a splash of water in its middle.

“Huh,” said Ardo.

Terry’s head snapped around. “Marin? Was that you?”

“I… maybe?” said Marin. “I don’t know. I’m…” her head drifted to the side, her blue eyes glimmered. “I’m not completely sure.”

“What do you mean?” asked Terry. “Either you made the water do that, or you didn’t.”

“That’s… no,” said Marin. “That doesn’t seem right.

Not really,” she said, and she could feel a sudden turn,

Something once again, that thing that she could feel, but not

Fully understand—it hung there, just out of her reach.

Almost, almost there, but she could not grab it. Not yet.

Marin was standing there, staring at the stream as it coursed and churned. She stood with her back to the others, and the three of them regarded her, different looks on all of their faces.

At last, Saera stepped forward. She gently touched her friend’s shoulder. “Marin, are you—”

“Uh!” grunted Marin, snapping backwards at the touch. She whirled, and her eyes were shining neon blue. As she did, the stream splashed over its bank towards them. But Marin’s eyes stopped shining, and the stream kept flowing. And Marin’s face twisted in anger. “Why’d you do that!” she yelled at Saera.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” said Saera softly.

Marin’s face now blanched. “I’m sorry,” she said, grabbing Saera and squeezing her tightly. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” said Saera. “I hope I did not interrupt anything.”

“I’m… not sure,” said Marin, turning back towards the stream.

“Your eyes were glowing, fatass,” said Ardo. “Saera definitely did interrupt something.”

“Yes,” said Saera. “What was it? What was happening?”

“I’m… not sure,” said Marin. “It’s like…” she stretched her hand, her fingers, towards the stream, and waved them slightly in the cold air. “I can almost feel it. It’s almost there. So… close. I… understand. Almost.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head, and clutched her arms about herself. “I can feel it. It’s there. It’s… there. I can almost touch it. Almost. Not there yet. But almost.”

“What’s it?” said Terry. “What’s this thing you’re talking about, that you can feel and touch?”

“I don’t know.” Marin gripped one of the navy blue streaks in her hair. “But I know it’s important. It’s part of me and being able to control water. It’s a big part. Maybe the biggest part of all.”

Terry ran fingers through his hair, the metallic bronze portions of it glinting in the weak sunlight, weak because of the Winter and also because of the forest branches overhead. He huffed a breath, and Marin, Saera, and Ardo all paused and looked at him, waiting for him to speak. “Can you get it back?” he finally said.

“I’m not sure it’s gone,” said Marin. “It’s…” she clutched herself tightly again, wrapping her arms around her torso. “It’s there… I can feel it… it’s just not right there. It’s moved back again. Still there, but it’s out of reach now. I can’t almost touch it… like I could just now.”

“But you can’t say what ‘it’ is,” said Ardo.

“I don’t know!” snapped Marin sharply, making the other three jump back. Marin herself recoiled when she saw the way they reacted to her. “I don’t know,” she said more softly. “I just know it’s… there. That something. It’s a something. It’s important. It’s important to all this. To the reason we’re out here today.”

“Suppose…” Saera said gently.

“Hmm?” asked Terry.

“Suppose we were to try and optimize the ability for you to touch it. That something. To grab it. Suppose we were to try and help you figure out how to get hold of it.” Marin stared at Saera. Saera smiled. “And if you learned to do it, you could teach the rest of us how.”

“I… guess,” said Marin. “But I don’t really know exactly how to do it. To grab it. To make it come close. I think I know… I don’t know!” Marin surged with anger directed at herself. “I should know better. I want to figure it out.”

“We’ll help,” said Terry.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ardo. “It sounds like you’re close, Marin. You’re closer than the rest of us. You’re close to figuring this shit out. So if we help you first, you can help all three of us once you’re done.”

“Precisely,” said Saera.

Marin sighed. She smiled. “Thanks, guys. Sorry for scaring you.”

“No big deal,” said Ardo.

“I know,” said Saera. “It is… strange. We must find a way.”

“Okay,” said Terry. “Let’s go to the pond. And I guess when we’re there, we sit around, and Marin can try and figure things out.”

They wended further, down the path, until Marin saw a familiar sight: the pond, with its still, quiet waters, untouched by the bubbling violence of the cold small stream. She saw the pond, and again she felt that something. That thing. She thought of telling the others, but decided against it. The pond sat there, placid and flat, a few chunks of ice floating in its midst. This made Marin think of ice. If she could control water, could she control ice, too? Ice was just frozen water, right?

She stared, and she breathed, and suddenly, there came a cold

Twitch upon the air, and as they all stood there and watched

A thin film of ice stretched out and coated all the pond,

Covering it in a frosty coating, mostly clear.

“Oh, shit!” said Ardo, ruby red eyes widening.

“Did you do that, Marin?” asked Saera.

“I think I did,” said Marin. “I was thinking about ice. I mean,” she turned to them, “ice is just frozen water. If I can control water, I can control ice too, right?”

“And also water vapor,” said Terry. “Mist, you know? Mist, fog, that sort of thing. All three states of water: solid, liquid, and gas.”

Ardo’s brows rose. “Dang, fatass, that’d be some serious power to have.”

“W-Well,” said Marin, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I am the best. It would be appropriate if I got to do something like that. I wouldn’t be limited to just water in a glass.”

“Did you feel something, just now?” asked Saera. “Did you feel the thing you have been trying to feel?”

Marin grasped emptily at the air. “Maybe.” Her eyelids slowly slid downwards. “I feel it even when I don’t feel it.”

“What does that mean?” asked Terry.

“Like…” Marin walked to the edge of the cold pond. She sat down in the dirt, not minding the mud. “It’s there, now. I can feel it. It’s… there, even when it’s far away. It’s far away, or it’s close. But it’s there.” She crossed her legs and put her hands on her ankles. “It’s waiting for me.”

“What does that mean?” asked Ardo.

“It wants me.”

“What even is it, fatass?” snarled Ardo.

“I don’t know.”

“So you don’t know what it is, but you know what it wants?”

“Yes.” Marin leaned forward, tipped forward, closer to the pond.

In and down she looked and peered into the great abyss,

Seeing, seeing, seeing, but seeing nothing at all,

Seeing, feeling, reaching, grasping, all beyond her words,

Things she could not put into her words, but she could feel.

And so Marin kept on tipping, forward, forward more,

Up until her forehead hovered just above the pond,

While the other three stood back and waited, but at length,

Ardo crossed his arms and said, “Well, fatass, get it done!”

But Marin did not react, and waited, waited more,

Leaning closer, sallow forehead pressed against the pond,

And she sighed—and then she burst into a water cloud!

Marin’s body turned into a torrent of clear stuff,

Turned into a burst of water that went forward fast,

Dumping itself into the pond, covered up with ice,

And the ice was broken as she hit it with her flow:

Marin’s body, turned to water, dumped into the pond.

“What the hell?” roared Ardo, eyes briefly flashing neon red as he reared back in total shock.

“Marin! Marin! Marin!” cried Saera, silver eyes bulging, wide, huge, as she ran for the edge of the pond. She skidded to a stop, uncertain, hesitant, twitching, her tall thin body battling backwards, powerless, more powerless even than she was used to feeling. “Marin!” she screamed, and the air turned colder and the winds rose amid the dead, empty branches.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, this is weird as hell,” said Ardo, flaring, flashing, a streak of his hair turned crimson red as he recoiled backwards, not sure, uncertain. The air around him warmed a bit.

“MARIN!” screamed Saera, falling to her knees at the edge of the pond. She actually reached her pale arms down into the water, further breaking the already-breaking ice, and dug into the dark waters, not minding the frigid cold. “Marin! Marin! Where are you? Come back!”

“She’s obviously still in there,” said Terry. “She just… turned into water, I guess.”

Ardo arched a black-and-red eyebrow at him. “You know that sounds insane, right?”

“How is any of this not insane?” said Terry. “All we can do is get used to it.”

Ardo’s ruby red eyes twitched. He rolled his eyes. And he sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably right. We’re fucked either way.”

“MARIN!” screamed Saera, her screams taking on a very high and desperate note. She pulled her frozen hands back from the pond. She scrambled backwards over the cold and dirty ground. Her pants were stained but she neither noticed nor cared. “Marin!” she said, and now Ardo and Terry both turned to Saera, and they noticed how twisted and ruined her face seemed, and how her silver eyes were wide, and wet.

Terry stepped forward. “Saera, I’m sure… she’s fine. She’s just… in there.”

“Marin,” said Saera, bending over, wrapping herself in her arms, drawing her long legs up to her chest. “Marin, please come back to me,” said Saera. The pond was silent, placid, still, its cakes and patters of ice floating amid inky darkness. Saera leaned forward, tears at the edges of her eyes. “Marin, please come back to me.”

“She’s just a friend,” Ardo whispered.

“No she’s not,” snarled Terry. “Nope.”

Ardo’s ruby red eyes snapped hard to Terry. “You think they’re…”

“Marin, please, please,” cried Saera.

“No,” said Terry. “No, they’re not that way.”

“But then, if she’s just a friend…” said Ardo, with a twitch,

Only to see Terry round on him, with copper eyes

Glinting, flaring, doing that shift from copper to bronze,

That Terry’s eyes only did when he felt something strong,

Felt immense emotions. “JUST a friend?” he harshly said.

“Not JUST a friend, but, they’re…” Terry thought about the words.

“Best friends, old friends, friends so good each one of them would die.”

And now Terry, taller than Ardo, looked down on him.

“Haven’t you ever had a friend like that?” he asked him.

“Have you ever had a friend, ever, that you’d die for?

And that friend would die for you in turn?” And Ardo sighed,

Shoved his hands into his pockets, and wearily said,

“No, I’ve never had one, though I’ve wanted one so long.

No I’ve never had a friend for whom I’d gladly die.”

“Well,” said Terry, “this is what it looks like to have one.”

“You really think so?” asked Ardo.

“Seems like it,” said Terry. “It’s not so strange, if you’ve read enough.”

“Marin.”

They turned. Saera knelt at the edge of the pond. Tears leaked from her silver eyes.

“Marin, do not leave me,” said Saera, her soft voice still very loud in their ears, because the dead air of Winter was so quiet. “Marin, please, do not leave me alone. Do not leave, and not come back. You said you would always come back. A long time ago.” She dipped a pale finger in the dark, cold waters of the pond. “So come back.”

And at once the dark pond’s waters burst into a splash,

And a torrent of the water vomited onshore,

As a swell of whitewater and darkened, muddy stuff

Came onto the land, and then it turned into a shape,

Swirling, foaming, and then it was convalescing there

Into a girl who was not wet, but who seemed to still

Be a little wet and damp, yet she was fully dry,

And her eyes were gleaming, shining, burning neon blue,

Only for an instant—then they lost their wondrous glow,

And returned once more into that plain, but brilliant blue,

Bright sapphire blue as she smiled and said, “Hey, guys.”

“MARIN!” screamed Saera, voice both desperate and rapturous. Saera’s pants became stained with dirt as she scrambled to Marin, and Marin sighed and breathed as Saera wrapped her arms around her best friend in the world. “Please don’t leave me again!”

“I-I won’t,” said Marin, and she drew Saera into a tight embrace. “I won’t, I won’t, I promise. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Marin drew Saera against herself. “You’re the only person in the world I’ll never hurt on purpose.”

“Whoa, fatass, your hair,” said Ardo, coming to them then,

And Marin pulled back from Saera, eyeing Ardo there.

“What about my hair?” asked Marin, but then she went swoon,

Toppling onto her knees, as Ardo grabbed his phone

Out of his pocket and firmly said: “See for yourself.”

Ardo turned the mirror function on upon his phone,

And Marin could see, with wonder, her own long black hair—

No, not black, not black any more, but it was not blue,

Not either: instead it was a dirty, muddy brown,

Brown like the big bottom of a dirty riverbed.

“Oh,” said Saera, noticing. “Oh, my,” she softly said.

“Marin, how do you feel right now?” Terry asked her then.

“I feel…” Marin swayed upon her knees, unsteady there,

“I feel muddy.” And she bent her head, and closed her eyes.

“What does that mean?” Ardo asked, his ruby eyes aflame.

“Muddy? What the fuck does that mean, fatass? Be more clear.”

“I don’t… know,” said Marin. “Not… clear.” She lurched forward, her heavy brown hair falling in ponderous curtains around her head. Her hair, turned brown, had a weight and a heaviness to it that it had not had before.

“How do you feel?” asked Terry. “Your hair is brown.”

“She just said she feels muddy, whatever the fuck that means,” said Ardo.

“Marin, why do you say that?” asked Saera. “What does that mean? What does ‘muddy’ mean?”

“I’m… muddy,” said Marin, drifting, sapphire eyes twisting, twitching, drifting up and away. “Because the creek is… muddy. The stream, the pond. It’s muddy, even though it’s clear. The mud is…” she bent forward, slowly, deeply. “It’s a clean stream. But the pond is muddy. The fish are here. There’s lots of them. Some of them breach the stream into the pond, and vice… versa.” She blinked, and the other three gaped as muddy brown tears ran down from her eyes. “The… the dam was made by beavers, a long time ago. They’re gone, now, but the dam is still there, and that’s what makes the pond.”

Terry tilted his head to the side, copper eyes glinting, doing that shift to bronze they sometimes did. “How do you know that? All that?”

“I know because… the water knows. I think.” Marin put her head in her hands. “The water knows. The water remembers. And I know what the water—gaarck!” Marin doubled over, and vomited up a brown torrent.

“Are you all right?” cried Saera, coming to her friend, wrapping long arms around Marin, holding her close.

“I am, I am, yeah,” said Marin. “I feel really good, actually. I’m not in pain or anything.” She bent her legs, and put her hands on the dirty ground.

“But you feel weird,” said Terry.

“I feel muddy,” said Marin.

“Muddy,” Terry repeated.

“You look muddy,” said Ardo. “You know your hair’s brown, right?”

Marin gripped her long hair, bringing it around to her face, blue eyes twitching back and forth over the dirty brown locks. “Hmm. Huh. That is weird.” Marin’s head twitched to the side, and so she bent her eyes and they were

Gleaming shining neon blue, and then she blinked them both,

And the pond abruptly churned and foamed, pure whitewater,

Splashing, boiling, bursting out onto the fervent banks,

Splashing up and sloshing frigid water on the shores.

“I feel it.”

“What?” asked Ardo. “What? Is this that thing, the one you were talking about before?”

“Yes,” said Marin, raising up a hand close to her head, flexing and flickering her fingers. “It’s not far… it’s pretty close.” Marin bent her head, and as they watched, lines of brown mud, runny brown fluid, began to trickle down her sallow forehead. “I… feel it.” She arched her eyebrows, which, unlike her hair, were still that mix of black and navy blue. “It’s close. It’s with me.”

“Do you still not even know what ‘it’ is?” asked Ardo.

“I have an… idea,” said Marin. “I think I know. I may know.” Suddenly, in the quiet deadness of the Winter air, her phone chirped. “Oh, that’s my mom,” said Marin. “It’s time to go.”