Remembrance

"You awake?"

Ari jolted into alertness. The weariness that gnawed on her bones was replaced with perked ears and open eyes.

"Barely," she yawned, probing the wind with a few shallow flaps of her vulturine wings.

"Well, hang on. We are less than an hour away," buzzed the speaker within her helmet, a grating static following before the line was cut. Cultivated valleys and craggy hills rolled beneath the flock. An endless collage of sediment, vegetation clinging to the cliff face, and a sprinkle of rural settlements. Little brick and wood dwellings, barely noteworthy against the vast green of worked land.

“Already inside Fallian, then?” Ari asked. She knew the answer by looking at the horizon, the Kar mountains beginning their claim upon the land. Tiny rounded hills were common all over the Empire, but those paled against the mighty mountain chain; the raked claw marks of the primeval Hokam against the crust of the earth.

“Mhmm,” confirmed Meztli, the Flock Guide soaring at the head of the formation.

Fallian was one of the thirty-one provinces in Tarrukar. It claimed the last piece of smooth, temperate western land. Continue west, and the terrain turned into a wall of rock, ice, and volcanoes. Centuries ago, Fallian saw activity in the form of refineries and agriculture. It had been a supportive piece of land then, a base in which the western mining prefectures could stand on. On current days, it had ripened into a trading center, using the huge Vankya river as an arterial flow for commerce with the eastern territories.

Before closing the audio channel, Meztli announced: “Northwest, hot rise.” Having gathered the group's attention, the guide’s right hand signed an additional command. ‘Sequence in five.’

The terms were of routinary flock motion. Ari was at the second position to the left. The movements came like breathing, a pattern that barely touched her thoughts.

Left wing down, right wing up, a tilt to her torso. A gentle roll towards the hot rise. Underneath, the highway home. A massive thread of asphalt embedded into the valley. The continuous black was broken up by green bridges that allowed wildlife to pass during their migrations. Cars blazed through the road, ants marching in an incessant line.

The flock of five entered the thermal clockwise. Each threaded the rising air at their own pace, the various wing shapes interacting in their unique ways. Ari was the first to abandon the hot air, forming larger circles as the rest rose. Broad wings and slotted primaries served her well for thermal riding.

At goal altitude, each member of the flock slotted back into their position. From an impeccable climb sequence to a perfect structure. Flying could almost be joyful when done with well-practiced Stratos.

The first dozen thermals had been completed with vigorous cheering within the team. No crashes, good climbing rates; those were feats not all flocks could manage.

In four days of flight, Ari had lost the count of how many thermals they had threaded. Meztli still called them out for protocol, but it was easy to anticipate the sequence.

This thermal had been special, though. Unlike the myriad others, this thermal had been within Fallian. This thermal was within an one-hour radius to the finish line. The last thermal before home.

Home. The word rolled around her mouth like coffee; bitter and sour, filling her chest with warmth.

The rise had boosted them above the stratocumulus layer, a dark honeycomb pattern that shielded the ground. Not enough to foretell rain, but still a consequence of the same convection that generated the thermals.

With higher altitude came a boost in speed. Between the cracks in the clouds, the terrain changed. The patchwork of the ground was overcome with scattered groups of buildings. At the horizon, the Kar mountains broke the blanketing cotton that covered the lower atmosphere. Its peaks drank in the remnants of sunlight, a distant off-white with dark blues on their crevices. The enormous Kar plateau casted a shadow over its raked talon marks. The karst valleys were beginning to light up with the pinpricks of human activity.

A break in the clouds; the flock overflew the Vankya river. Five reflections of massive wingspans, rippling with the water and the speed in which they travelled. Theirs was a standard size for military teams. Their V-shape formation came with an air profile that Ari could trace even with closed eyes.

But it wasn’t what she had grown up with. Five pairs of wings were a feeble structure against a proper flock. She had shared the sky with two dozen Stratos during her FLEDGE preparation. And after the exam, all her assigned classes were with at least a set of thirteen. Five was a lonely sky.

But she wasn’t feeling all that lonely, not anymore. Fully awake, she had noted the silhouette of fellow Stratos coasting at lower elevations. Most boasted the navy blue and gold of the Tarrukar Postal Service. Carrying their harnesses full of cargo out to the rural areas, or heading back to the city for reloading.

And as the flock approached their target, the sky only came more alive.

Not only cargo flyers, but food delivery. Meteorology surveyors, greeting the incoming flock with a quick sign of the hand before continuing their climb, high-altitude gear rattling with their flapping. Ari had to stifle a gasp, noting a small patrol of black uniformed Wardens making their rounds on the outskirts of Evorden’s second district.

How it weighed in her stomach, the realisation that she was truly coming home.

Nine long winters without a proper feast. Nine summers she couldn’t soar over the Vankya’s waves, waving at touristic boats. Nine birthdays she couldn’t have the chocolate and hazelnut pudding from the small bakery she so cherished.

Nine years, and not one day she wouldn’t yearn for the skies of Evorden. Her city. Her home.

Would her instructors remember her? Would she get a pat in the back from her former handler? She wasn't certain if they were still stationed in Evorden at all.

A massive building caught her attention below, a full delivery team perched on the rooftop landing pads. The fulfilment warehouse looked like a cinder block dropped amidst the greenery of the vale. Its wall materials had yet to be touched by time. The structure itself was surrounded in a dull halo where the green hadn’t had the chance to regrow yet.

The highways widened below, ramps and entrances from other routes feeding into the main road to the city.

“Straight descent to 600. Twenty minutes to arrival.” Announced the Flock Guide, bobbing their wedged tail to catch everyone’s attention. That span felt too short, the more rural residences still spreading through the—But no. The ground was a mosaic of houses, the main highway branching out to veins that nurtured the outer districts of Evorden. A few pockets of green were peppered between residential buildings. Parks, hiking trails, outdoor gyms. The bridges that connected the sides of the river turned more common.

When had the city intruded into her vision? They were deep into the valley now, two mountain chains at their sides, and the wall that made up the Kar chain at the front.

Buildings and streets and vendors and roads, a molten ore that expanded through the cast that was the valley. Fitting into every cranny between the hills. Splashing with small, stubborn structures that encroached their way through the steep terrains like moss.

“Sidewinder, descend.”

The voice was tense, forcing Ari to notice how the flock soared dozens of wingbeats below. They disappeared momentarily, hidden by the cover of clouds. A familiar emptiness sat in her chest as she pitched down. The horizon disappeared, only resurfacing into her view as she recovered her spot in the formation.

The mountains sunk, skyscrapers walling up towards the clouds. The lavish residential housing at the outer bounds was replaced by tightly packed buildings, interconnected with hilly roads, lifts, and bridges. At least a dozen of the bridges were out of commission, marked with bright signs to prevent any landing or walking. Some of the concrete walls were patched up with rusted metal, plastic, and canvas sheets.

Her high-altitude gear quickly became a burden. A big sleeve covered her body from chest down, giving her a sleek silhouette. It was padded with warm material, making it comfortable when flying at the same level as migratory geese. But below the clouds, her chest and legs were turning sticky with sweat.

The sixth district Warden outpost passed below them. On the roof, a couple of preening Whirlwinds waved at the flock. While the buildings and bridges kept on their labyrinthic features, the streets changed below. Broadening, covered in tile mosaics. Outdoor escalators accompanied the humble stone stairs of the steeper areas.

But what truly told her of the district was the unfathomable murmuration of delivery Stratos fluttering all around. The roads below were technically bigger to the residential ones, but barely any vehicle could make it through. Tables, food stalls and umbrellas dominated the area.

Hundreds of illuminated signs were suspended over the street, held between the walls of the buildings. Advertisements for menus, combo offers, new dishes and directions for the hidden establishments. The promotional light shows made the early evening roads appear like noon.

They had reached one of the tourist and food centres of Evorden, the eight district.

It was as if all of the winged folks of Tarrukar had reunited under the same damn cloud, though there was no real risk of crashing with anyone. All Stratos stuck to the mandated flight paths of the city, manoeuvring as allowed by the coloured balloons suspended at the rooftops.

However, Ari choked.

She had welcomed the fuller skies, but now feeling the way the air bent under thousands of feathers… It was stifling.

The touch of so many, the warmth in the wind, and now the noise. In high flight, there was a maddening silence. Here, she was being crushed by sound. It wasn’t just the flapping, but the yelling between delivery workers. The chattering of the crowd below; both humans and synthetic beings alike could be seen navigating the roads like a rushing river.

The shapes of the buildings were just as she remembered, a seared afterimage in her mind. She could picture gliding over the restaurants after training hours. Friends at her side, spending an inordinate amount of time counting coins to see how many snacks they could buy.

Ari’s eyes sought a familiar spot, one she had frequented hundreds of times. The little nook with orange walls, and fresh bread advertised on the outer stall. The nook was there, and the orange walls. But no food to be seen. Only an artisan selling Evorden memorabilia.

Her favourite bakery was gone. So was the jerky place her childhood best friend liked. The launching pad where she had almost slipped during a rainy day as a teen had been replaced by a rooftop convenience store.

There were only a handful of restaurants she recognised, upon a sea of dozens and dozens of strangers with bright colours and foreign cuisines.

“Sidewinder. Split in three minutes.” Meztli’s voice was plain, as it had always been. Their bored tone was an inconceivable emotion against what Ari was feeling. She couldn’t even put into words what the hell it was.

“Received.” Ari forced the word out in a gnarled spit, broken glass pulled out from her throat.

“Four days, and you’re still so stiff. Farewell, soldier girl,” chuckled Hyun, a high-speed Whirlwind on her opposite side. Couldn’t expect anything but insolence from those short-winged folks.

But it wasn’t Hyun’s tone that was aggravating. Ari wasn’t a soldier girl anymore, was she? Once upon a time, the moniker would have brought her pride. A feat beyond her very biology, an unique privilege to serve her country like none of her class.

And here she was, throwing it all away. Years of expertise, endless nights honing her skill. A gargantuan amount of work. Shattered, agonizing, a stone through glass. Her dream, a wilt to amputate.

It hurt. But nothing was as excruciating as trying to form more words then. Everyone in the flock bid farewell, wishing for good fortune and clear skies.

She knew it was rude not to talk. The act itself of not replying would give her a hit on her trust rank— if the others reported it. A mud in her history, one she had come to terms with long ago. It wasn’t the first time. Sometimes, her mind was a bramble to navigate, and the usage of language sat far, far, far amidst the thorns.

Ari signed a general farewell, and tilted away from the flock. Four days, and a bond forged against rain, fields, and mountains. Terminated, just like that. The group adjusted the formation without her and headed away to their next target. Everyone in the flock group had shared their destinations, but the memories evaded Ari.

Now it was just her, and Evorden. She circled above the city’s business center. Skyscrapers reached for the sky, adorned with manicured gardens and multi-level tram stations. Vines, moss, and branches spilled from between the walls, an eccentric and marvelous exhibition of genetically-modified architectural plants. The glass of the buildings illuminated the landscape with advertisements, a loud discord of colours that made Ari dizzy. The Vankya river was in the distance, glowing with the dinner buffet cruises, and the incomprehensible music of party boats.

It mounted the stage of the twelfth Warden district. Its headquarters sat between the skyscrapers, on the highest floor of a sleek tower. Her new home. Whirlwinds and Cyclones landed and took off from the lower launching pads. Some perched on the branches that grew from crevices in the tower.

She had never seen buildings so tall, not in her past. Not ever. There was no way they were that big before. It was her, and the weight of thousands of bricks and buildings, thousands of Stratos, millions of people.

Her, and the place she used to call home. Could it even become home again?

The tears that stung her eyes, the stink of smog seeping into her helmet, the fucking prodding of the gales and vortices of dozens of wingbeats against her, they all told otherwise.

It would be so simple, to close her wings and let the weight go. To be free of this hell she had willfully stepped into.

The weight of thousands of bricks were insignificant against the true gravity of what she had abandoned.