The Archway: Chapter 1

I haven’t told you yet about how Priak saved me, or how I found Kiz-OO, or even about how Kfffft accidentally-on-purpose started our band, Big Sand. 

All of those things are important, I know. But even though I grew to love my friends, it took a long time for me to learn to love this strange world.

I missed my home. Even though I’d never really felt part of The Colony, it was part of me. I couldn’t imagine not yearning to belong, find a job, be part of something bigger.

That yearning was all I’d ever known, and now I didn’t know what I was supposed to yearn for.

It was a scary kind of freefall.

Nobody in this whole world was telling me who I was meant to be.

So I want to tell you the story of how things changed. 

One morning, Priak and Kfffft emerged early from their overnight diapause to go searching for a burrowgrub patch. I’d tried burrowgrub before, and the taste of rotting meat and wildcat piss lingered in my mouth for days. 

So this morning I’d politely declined to join them as they scavenged the dunes, and set off instead with Kiz-OO to explore a rocky outcrop on the horizon.

It was a nice day, with a dusting of clouds in the sky that gave some respite from the sun.

Kiz-OO buzzed happily alongside me, chattering occasionally in their strange old language about ‘evoked positivity’ and ‘reducing cognitive load for The Consumer’. 

I had figured out by now that ‘The Consumer’ was me, and that Kiz-OO was just trying to think of ways to make me happy. It felt nice.

We kept walking, and the huddles of boulders on the horizon drew closer.

When we finally reached the first outcrop, I took the opportunity to sit and rest in the rare patch of shade cast across the sand.

I leaned against the largest of the boulders, pressing my shoulder blades against the cool stone.

If I closed my eyes I could imagine that I was back in The Colony, camped out in some remote hallway under the soft glow of the lights.

Waiting for suppertime and the same bowl of noodles I ate each day, then the same clean sleeping pad I curled up in each night.

I felt a jab of homesickness, then. A longing for familiarity, repetition, safety.

To know what I was supposed to be doing, even if I could never quite get it right. 

I opened my eyes and looked out across the neverending dunes. 

Up here, I didn’t know where I was meant to go, or what I was meant to do. It’s like somebody had forgotten to give me the instructions.

Instead of working on something useful and productive, I was stuck wandering the desert, endlessly singing and walking and thinking and talking about where to go next.

I wished someone would just tell me who I was supposed to be. I wished I was home.

My thoughts were interrupted by Kiz-OO.

“That’s very nice!” they chirped “Memorable! Aesthetic! Great branding!”

I turned to see Kiz hovering above me, focusing on a mark etched into the rock that I hadn’t noticed before. I stood up to take a closer look.

The symbol had been carved into the stone a long time ago; it was smooth and weathered. Like Kiz-OO said, it was beautiful. 

The shape of it looked vaguely like the profile of a yumin - arms outstretched to the front, head back looking at the sky. The front knee was bent and the back leg was planted wide behind.

I reached out to run my fingers over the grooves, worn and cool against my skin. As I did, a flash of pastel pink leapt across my eyes.

Have I already told you about how I see sounds? 

I’ve always heard things in colours. It’s hard to explain, but sounds make me feel something, and that feeling makes me see something, and that’s just how it is. 

I like to record the things I see and hear, and up here in the Big Sand I still haven’t run out of new noises. For the first time in my life I’m recording new things every day.

So as the pastel pink lingered and danced in the corners of my vision, I realised I was seeing the echoes of a distant melody.

I should record it! Show it to Priak and Kfffft!

“What’s that song?” I asked Kiz.

“I don’t know! Sounds like some kind of jingle. Positive emotionality. High stickiness.”

I nodded and pretended to understand.

“I like it! I feel like I’ve heard it before!”

I’d said it without thinking, but it was true. The tune was faint, but nostalgic. It called to me.

I set off towards it, following the colours that traced their way along the sand and disappeared in the distance behind a row of tall dunes.