“What is?”
“My friends,” she says, and I see that in her hands are the little biting fishes that I first saw her birth back in the recycling pits.
She releases the things in her hands, and they fall to the crystals at our feet and begin to wriggle their way through the crystalline forest.
Das Muni hooks her arm under me, and we follow the snapping fishes. I stumble over Casamir. She is staring into her hands as if they, too, have become crystalline surfaces.
“Get up,” I say. “Follow us.”
Arankadash has made it the farthest. She stands on a great crystal, face wan and drawn. When she sees us, she squints like she can’t believe we are real.
“There are living things here,” she says. “I ate one.”
“Where did the rest go?” I ask.
She points down a narrow, craggy precipice.
“We must follow them,” I say.
I know that what I’m saying doesn’t make sense, but Arankadash doesn’t argue with me. She sets off ahead of us. As I walk, I begin to feel stronger, more clear-headed. Whatever is in Das Muni’s offspring is a potent restorative.
When Casamir lags behind, I go back for her and help her along. Das Muni keeps on ahead, looking back at us occasionally. I hear the change long before I see it. A rushing sound fills the air, louder and louder. Cool wind blows against my face. I smell water.
Arankadash ducks under a low-hanging crystal. I slide after her with Casamir and land in deep mud up to my ankles. I gaze out at a muddy plain and there, at the far end of it, four or five hundred paces distant, is a waterfall. The water pounds down from the level above. It has carved a chasm in the ceiling. The lip of the other level has rolled downward like a knobby tongue, and the water cascades over it and into a great pool. The pool drains toward us, making a mucky river that twists and turns and disappears under the edge of the crystal forest.
I slog to the riverbed and fall to my knees. I drink, not caring what else is swimming in these dark waters. The water tastes pure, though. It is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.
We make camp near the forest. We drink and rest and Casamir catches fist-sized creatures from the water and we eat them raw. They taste terrible, but it’s better than starving.
I take the time to bathe in the water, which is warmer than I expected, warm as spit. I’m not sure how much cleaner I am after I come out of it, but I feel better, more vibrant. I feel alive.
I rinse off my suit and get dressed and stare out at the waterfall. I see that there are knobby crags along either side of the waterfall, little curls of flesh from the level above that the water has yet to wear away.
“I bet we can climb up,” I say, but no one is listening to me.
Arankadash is sleeping contentedly with her offspring, and Casamir is snoring loudly. Even Das Muni has passed out, arms wrapped around herself, knees tucked to her chest. It’s only then that I realize how close we all came to dying.
But I don’t want to rest. I want to carry on. Every time we ascend a level, I feel that much closer to getting my revenge.
I slog toward the waterfall. I get about a hundred paces before my strength gives out. I find a damp patch of ground and lie down. I listen to the gurgle of the water. We are so close. Every step takes us closer. I sleep.
*
How long we rest, I don’t know, but when I wake, Arankadash is already standing along the circumference of the pool where the waterfall pounds into this level.
I get up to join her. Her offspring nuzzles her chest, a great faceless blob. I try not to look at it.
“We go up?” she says.
“Always up,” I say.
She pats her offspring. “Perhaps you should go first.”
“I like a challenge,” I say. I’m not sure if that’s true, though. I’ve been challenged enough.
Casamir and Das Muni join us at the edge of the pool. Casamir volunteers to give it a try, but I tell her this is my lot in life.
I stretch out on the edge of the pool and head toward the right side of the waterfall, which looks like it might have more handholds. The surface is slick, but the bulbous face of the worn ceiling is varied enough that I can gain some purchase.
The way up the craggy edge of the waterfall is treacherous. I claw my way up, digging my fingernails into the soft surface to gain purchase. I tumble hard when I am just a few paces up. I flail. Hit the water with a great smack.
I swim to the shore and start again, assuring Casamir that I am fine. There is a route up. I will find it. For myself, for Das Muni, for Jayd, for us all.
I start again, more slowly this time, looking for purchase. I think of my hands as vises, too strong to let go once they have gripped an edge, and I make my way slowly up and up. I am already soaked, but the misty spray of the falls ensures I stay that way. I wipe my face on my shoulder, trying to clear my eyes of water. It’s a pointless exercise.
As I near the top of the waterfall, my bad leg cramps up. I cling hard to the face of the wall. I push my toes against my foothold, trying to stretch out my tendon.
There are no calls of encouragement from below. I suspect they are all waiting for me to fall again. They’re afraid to break my concentration. I realize just how strangely quiet it is to not hear Casamir complaining.
I find purchase on the lip of the wall and pull myself over while pushing with my good leg. I flop over the edge like a swollen fish and lie there gasping. Something flies above me and defecates on my face. I wipe it away and stare up. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of flapping creatures nesting in the high, rotten walls above the waterfall. The sky here stretches up and up, and it’s mostly dark. There are bioluminescent fungi here and there, glowing a faint blue, and some creature flashing white in the water. But after the disorienting maze of the crystal forest, the darkness is almost welcome.
I stagger to my feet and am pleased to see that the waterway that feeds the falls does indeed slope upward. We’re continuing our climb up from the bottom of the world to its surface, however slow and agonizing.
I take a few steps, but my strength gives out. Or perhaps it’s my will. I sink to my knees on the soft ground. No doubt it’s covered in the excrement of whatever creatures are roosting in the walls, but I don’t care. We’re all the same thing. We’re all shit. We’re all flesh. We’re all sentient.
The others have been telling me this from the very beginning, but it’s not until now, saved by Das Muni’s slithering offspring, revived by afterbirth and a thundering waterfall at the center of a hollowed-out world, that I really understand what they mean by it.