Feathery clouds cleaved the sky above into two parts. Before. And After. Vertus looked again at the cleft gouged in the ground by some unknown source. It stretched over brown and broken grass, beyond where his eyes could see. He’d started the day with his deliveries, landing his rover in an open patch in the Outer Lands of his planet, “Mintra,” and hoping for a few minutes of peace to eat and rest.
This unfathomable ravine, carved out as if a giant hand swooped down from above and raked long fingers down the world’s spine. Forget the work, the deliveries would keep, his ship secure; he couldn’t fight the urge to follow the new landscape to wherever it took him.
Vertus didn’t need the walking stick, but he found a perfect one that must have fallen during the event that made the chasm. He picked it up and wielded it. Who knew, maybe whatever made this gorge would appear before him, and without his Known skill emerging yet, at seventeen, he could use the staff as a weapon, impale the alien force with its sharp tip. Seventeen, he’d reached age, but so far, no skill had emerged like others coming of age on Mintra: Makers, Healers, Greenskeepers, Scrapers, to name a few. Each Known skill made the bearer manipulate air, water, and vegetation like a Greenskeeper, or hack any mechanical, computer, or Cloud system like a Scraper, or heal with hands and thoughts and little technology like a Healer.
Vertus had the occasional ability to make a tool fly through the air to his outstretched hand when he repaired the rover. Once, he had a vision of making a mural, his thoughts almost implanted on a wide, white wall down in the Wheel, their commerce centre, but the idea faded with the dampening air of twilight, so he was not an Artkeeper either. He was called the name of those who never manifested a Known skill on Mintra: He was an Unknown. So far. He still had time! He was young and strong, his agile body tall and muscular, his shoulders broad. And here, something new materialised before him, a path in a sense, one with a deathly fall to his left if he took a misstep, but still, something different.
On his right, more grasslands and far-off rocky hills with tufts of green trees punctuated the landscape. The sun warmed the top of his closely cropped hair, a surface he regularly ran his hand along in a habit that was as involuntary as breathing. Maybe now would be a good time to try to free his mind of mundane thoughts and make his facial muscles go slack (key advice found on the Cloud on how to trigger Known skills). Vertus made such an attempt every day, usually not when flying the rover, but now, it seemed like an opportune time to try.
White sands. Sleeping muscles. White sands. Sleeping muscles. Vertus went through the “opening” words that were to help him get into a relaxed state to “receive” his skills. Dirt crunched under his boots. The sun poured its relentless heat on his head. Sweat started a slow trickle down his back. He noted these sensory details and tried to make his mind go blank; his face muscles relaxed.
Invariably, when Vertus tried these attempts, his mind slipped into a region of sensory memory he often wondered if he made up. Instead of drawing a complete blank in his mind, some corner of it went to places he didn’t allow himself to think about, and his daily routine in his grubby house filled with tools, oil, droid parts, engines, scanners, and every piece of tech his father and brothers could get their hands on to repair or sell or barter, or in those metallic walls and long wooden tables making a cluttered workshop of kitchen and main living area—none of it allowed for ruminations or distant mental murmurings of his mother.
His father and older brothers never spoke of her, and as the youngest, Vertus didn’t remember when or why she left when he was only three years old. He didn’t remember her in any real sense, but his body did respond to the scent of lemongrass and lavender or the rustle of fabric near his cheek or the whisper of a shh, shh voice in his ear. Those things flooded what should be an empty mind whenever he tried to awaken his Knowns. At this rate, he would be a Jack like his father and brothers, with a smattering of enough Knowns they could carve out a business in their district. The Unknowns like Vertus tended toward occupations like barkeeper, rover driver, tram operators. Not that there was anything wrong with those things. Vertus just wanted more.
He had problems. Oh, did he! Vertus grumbled about his self-pity and stuck the staff into the dirt in satisfying thuds. A smile quirked up half his mouth. Today was not a day to be filled with grief, he told himself.
Thud. Thud.
Today, something was about to happen. He just knew it. Felt it. In the very vibrations coming off the humming land, alive with weedy growth and soil specked with minerals. Stay the course along this mysterious ravine. See where it took him.
He’d travelled far enough to a point where the rover was out of sight when he looked over his shoulder. After walking through his entire lunch break, he marvelled at how close he’d landed to his friend Pomona’s home. How had he not recognised the shortcut through the Outer Lands, the outcropping of pines, the rolling hills that dipped into valleys that led to Khalis Orchard, owned by Pomona’s parents? Vertus quickened his pace, and in several long, quick strides, he crested a hill that overlooked the orchard. Not only that, but as he’d approached the top of the hill, the gouge to his left had grown slimmer, until it came to an unceremonious end with a V-shape pointing toward Pomona’s house. Might as well say hello. His schedule was shot anyway, so he’d hear a mouthful from his father. His brothers would razz him more than usual.
He let the staff stabilise him down the slope, all the while taking in the neat rows of cavra and persici trees. The workers and droids moved in rhythmic motions, picking, collecting, and hauling the fruit to package into crates he would most likely pick up and deliver later in the week. Pomona’s parents believed in employing workers as well as buying droids to complete the orchard work. Harvester was another good job for an Unknown.
When Vertus reached the bottom of the hill, he noticed a patch of rain falling over one group of trees at the end of one row. Intrigued, he moved closer to get a look at the peculiarity. No one saw him approach. He came upon Pomona, her arms raised to her sides, her hands moving in small circular motions, and from her ministrations, a cloud of rainfall dripped from one patch of sky onto three trees. Simultaneously, weeds and pests were plucked, as if from the air itself, and discarded in a basket near her feet. Her face scrunched in concentration while she released her Known skill. Pomona was a Greenskeeper! Vertus started to call out to her in excitement, but bit his lip instead. For all he knew, this was her first demonstration, and he surely didn’t want to break the moment simply because of his awe in his friend’s abilities.
Several minutes ticked by with Vertus watching and Pomona executing colossal skills, and in the time that certain fruits went from bruised and misshapen to perfect, plump jewels, and the raindrops moved down the lines to quench entire tangled systems of roots, and weeds flew from their invasive spots to land in the basket, Vertus’s mind cast backward to ten years before, when they were seven years old and playing ten ball in the field next to the trees. When the balls flew into the orchard, they chased each other and made up a new game, something with complex rules and unattainable paths for true victory, for play with Pomona was about joy-making, not winning.
A taut string tugged at his chest, and right when he thought maybe he should turn back, retrace his path along the chasm, Pomona opened her eyes to connect with his own. The rain ceased immediately. The weeds en route in the air dropped like stones. The charged air between them came out of nowhere, a wildness not like the promise within childhood and its uncharted time. This felt like a true adult discovery, and Mintrans were considered adults at seventeen after all.
Pomona. Her curly hair, tied back in a plait down her back, sprang out around her temples. Her dark skin glistened with sweat from her Known exertions, and her green eyes shone with a gold glint, sunlight peeking through clapping leaves. She was beautiful. How had he not really recognised this and missed this in all the hours in lessons or trainings, pick-up games, or just reading, sprawled in the fields next to orchard lines?
She put a hand in the air for a greeting, then studied her fingertips as if waiting to cause some sort of natural phenomenon. They both smiled at this across the distance between them. Now that he had discovered this love, it was only a matter of time. He took a step toward his friend.
