Biomagnification

Aric rode on white horses, in harbors, and in the mountains, in chariots, and in chariots. He wore fine and poor clothing, farmers' hats, and tradesmen's trousers. He is always moving, always hiding. If Others had heard how far he had traveled and why he would have died. They did not. Three months after his departure, he arrived in a ruined city, where no one was allowed to work.

He crept in at night, as the Black Iron Curtain swirled around. He ran from shadow to shadow, into the filthy water, past the twisted iron and the crushed concrete. It took him a few hours before he could find it, and the covered building was reddened with paint and dirt, looking a little different from the surrounding ruins. "I'm from Cape Town," he whispered in the dark, "to see technology technician Asher." He offered a secret, and he hoped it was worth the money he had charged.

The ruined table is out of place. "Asher is dead," said a voice inside. "But come in quickly."

It was as if he had been taken by Others as if he had been stabbed and climbed onto the stake. All that, spoiled? He followed unnoticed and entered a dark, dry tunnel. "I am a disciple of Asher, Nathanael," said one of his disciples.

They went out into the room, and there were no lanterns or torches. It was old, electric, and Aric allowed himself to be reassured. The technician was dead, but perhaps his student knew what was needed. Aric showed him a metal box with holes in it, lined with barnacles and dried seaweed. "This was raised by a fisherman," he said. "We were hoping that technology expert Asher--"

"A military story!" Said, Nathaniel. "This may be something." He was thin, tall, with a black beard, scars on his face. He was not an Asher technician, but he walked with confidence, trying one tool, rather than another. The box suddenly opened, revealing twelve bulbs, dark and smooth. Eric reached out to touch them, to hear the things he had put so much danger in.

"Don't do that," said Nathaniel, who was crouched under a desk, looking at the drawers. "If those explosions, they'll bring you down everywhere."

Eric backed away like a sea snake. "Do you think they are still alive?" he asks.

"That's a good question." Nathaniel pulled something out and then grabbed it over the box. "The latest time. Nanoplague, I think, and some may survive." He looked at Aric. "This will take time."

There was a pallet in the corner, and without hesitation, Aric picked it up. He slept for an hour or two here and there; he was so tired that he cried.

When he woke up, the light was the same, but all the globes were cracked, and smooth black pieces were scattered over the table and benches.

"Are they all flying?" asked Aric. "Everything is in vain?"

"No," said Nathaniel. "Do you know what others do with great power?"

"They're killing them," said Aric. "Happily."

"Not only that," said Nathaniel. "They kill them to get food," he said.

Eric shook his head. "So?"

Nathaniel returned the box; it was full of cloth bands. "They're already drunk, Some," he said. "They are no longer afraid, so they only eat the best parts - blood and liver, fear and hope. They take so much, that sometimes a piece falls off their table." He put back his shirt, to show the cull-spike scar.

"It was difficult for Asher to find someone to study for a job," he said. "He needed someone who could hate. Some took me and took me, along with a hundred others. They gave us pain and fear and death, and very little hope. I think they really liked that; hope, when they took it."

"So?" asked Aric, again.

“So,” says Nathaniel. "I saw them kill, over and over again. I saw how they killed them. I know them and I hate them, just like any other human being. a storehouse of spoil in their land, but not long ago.

Nathaniel looked at Aric, who was beginning to understand. "Bombs contain the disease," continued Nathaniel. "I have made it weak; many who breathe dust will not die. But they will get sick. They, and those who infect them, and so on. and they will kill. Some may eat only the wise game, and we are the only ones who have their own livestock. "

Aric understood. Going down that tunnel, back through the ruined city, and out into the world. He had to ride far, and he had to ride fast so that he could not breathe the dust he had scattered. If the hair was moving too slowly, some would see what was happening, they would lock themselves in, kill the sick, and the threat would pass. Aric rode on white horses, in harbors, and in the mountains, in chariots, and in chariots all over the world.