“Yes. The Terra worship the God of Void.”
That’s just not making sense. Plant people should be worshipping something else, not a god of nothingness. “Why not Mother Nature, huh?”
It’s quick, but a look of anger flashes across his face.“The humans have killed Mother Nature.”
“Are you for fucking real? Gods don’t die.”
“They don’t, but they lose their godhood when they are underappreciated.”
Hence, the altar, the shrines, the ceremonies. “And you know this how?” I ask suspiciously.
“I am more than a millenia-year old, Xiaoyu, it would be more baffling if I did not know any of these.”
I keep forgetting that Datu’s very old already. It doesn’t help that he’s started to mimic my speech and talk like someone my age.
“And to answer your question, I was there when Mother Nature flourished. I know the difference very well.”
“God of Void and Mother Nature are…real people?”
“That is a loaded question, don’t you think?”
I frown, looking down at my dirty hands. I’d been digging around the whole time we were in Sikat when I wasn’t note-taking. I felt sticky and hot, but the soil felt weird. I know what it’s like to dig my hands into sand, soil, even cow poop. That had not been it.
“Yeah, I guess it is. But I’m just wondering if this worshipping actually works, and not in vain. There are so many religions out there…”
“And—according to you—plant people don’t exist back there.”
“If what you’re saying is true, what happens when people forget about Mr. Void?”
“Something much worse than this.”
A deep tremble begins in my bones. I’m terrified of the dark, of nothingness, but that fear is only but the size of the tip of a micron pen. Cover the whole Earth with the pen ten times over, and that is not even half of the fear I feel.
“I can’t believe we went from talking about your questionable choice in housing to this existentialist conversation.” I try to joke, but it’s done. The seed of horror is there, planted.
Datu
Xiaoyu’s gone through many phases today. Just a few hours ago, she’d been lively and determined. Now, she’s silent while struggling to keep her breathing even. I know her enough that my words weigh heavily on her.
“Come now, you’re dirty,”I untie her toga, letting it fall to the ground.
She’s terribly shy. She doesn’t like it when I watch her so intently. I think she feels judged when I do. She doesn’t know she’s the only woman my gaze has lingered on for too long.
My hands run over her arms, her torso, feeling the little hairs of her skin rise to my touch. We walk deeper into the creek until it is waist-deep for her. I cannot believe it has only been one night since we have known each other. As I wash her hair, it’s grown longer. She may think it’s only been a day, but in her world, it’s been a while.
“You’re quiet,”I observe.
“I’mhaving a crisis.” She deadpans. “Give me a moment.”
Gruffly, I sigh and knead her muscles, shoulders, neck.“Remember what you were sent here for?”
“Yeah, to treat you, but I still don’t understand why I need to collect pollen. How is that going to help the sprouts?”
An upset thrumming starts in my belly. “To appease the void.”
Xiaoyu freezes, and I know she’s caught it. She’s shaking as the water—so in tune with her—ripples. I run my fingers over her hair, sliding along the curve of her hip.
“Was I sent here to die?”
