They passed through downtown, where the skyscrapers' color scheme was white and various shades of light gray, because Shishiru was made out of great building material. Ordinarily, this part of town was hectic, but due to the festival, it was no surprise that it was more hectic than usual. The city's population was something like two million fine folks, but with it hosting the festival, there was a good 220,000+ extra folks to the city. Needless to say, crowded sidewalks and waiting at a red light three plus times was expected.
“Was the city this crowded for the last festival?”
“I think so?” Retta said. She looked to Mireh for a more affirmative answer, but she only gave her a shrug. “I live in the development ten minutes away from the park, so we didn't need to head downtown to get there.”
“When was the last festival?”
“I think it was...4013...?” Retta guessed.
“4012,” Mireh corrected her.
“Are you sure? I remember having a broken ankle at the time, too.”
“It's every five years.”
“I thought I was in seventh grade then...” Retta recounted. “Oh, right! It was sixth grade when I broke my ankle. Seventh grade was when I broke my femur.”
“How'd you break your bones twice during middle school?”
“It was three times total, and from soccer,” Retta said.
“She's what you would call reckless,” Mireh added.
“I prefer the term passionate, thank you very much.”
“Passionate about kicking a ball so hard that you turn yourself into a human windmill.”
“As a wisewoman once said, 'A passion that hurts is a passion well worth it.'”
“Who said that?”
“No one. She made it up,” Mireh said.
“Oh.....I thought it was a good quote, too.”
“Thanks! See, I knew there was something I liked about you,” Retta said and gave Temera some passionate pats on the back.
Good if you're a masochist.
Temera was rubbing her back where Retta had passionately patted her when she brought up a vacant lot across the street. “What happened to the pizzeria that was there?”
Retta looked. “My dad said it had too many health code violations, so it was shut down.”
“Aww. I really liked their cheesesteaks, too...I was hoping to go there again soon.”
“They've been closed for the last, what, two months?”
She sighed. “Why do all the good restaurants shut down?”
“That reminds me of this prank video I saw,” Retta said, whipping out her phone.
“About what?”
“A couple of people pretend to be restaurant employees for a day, and they mess with the customers in all sorts of ways, like this one part where the guy pretending to be the owner makes a call about the place getting shut down, and while he's in the middle of the call, a bunch more guys come in and start taking all the tables and stuff, all while the customers are still there. It's great, you gotta see it.”
“It sounds funny,” Temera said, smiling and watching Retta's phone in anticipation.
“It is, but I think Retta thinks it's hilarious to the point that she's contributed to 2/3rds of its views,” Mireh said.
“You're gonna need to give me a minute,” Retta said, still trying to find said video. “I thought it was here in my history somewhere...”
Since Retta was going to be a minute, she decided now was as good a time as any to ask Temera something. “Hey, Temera.”
“Yes?”
“I've been wondering for a bit now, but what did you mean when you said that the way I look at the sky inspired you? Like, what is it that's so special about the way I look at the sky versus the way anyone else looks at the sky?”
“Um...I think it has something to do with how often you look at the sky.”
“I don't look at it that often, do I?”
“You do.”
“And you know this because...?”
“I do a lot of people watching.”
Is that what we're calling stalking nowadays?
“For example, Cody won't touch his chips until he finishes his sandwich at lunch; Crystal has a crush on Joel, I think, and kicks his legs to try and get his attention; Shannon wears sweatshirts on days she's insecure about her weight,” she said, talking about random people from school. “Of course, I could be reading everyone wrong.”
“Any reason you”—What'd she call it?—“'people watch'?”
“I find people fascinating,” she said. “They also inspire me sometimes.”
That makes one of us. Mireh couldn't imagine people watching. Sitting there, watching someone eating a ham sandwich or picking their nose when they think nobody's looking. Sounded as exciting as frogs unconcerned with their place on the food chain.
“Here it is,” Retta said to Temera, and showed her the video.
The video was almost five minutes long, which left Mireh five minutes to not watch a video she's contributed one view to versus Retta's 200,000, give or take 50,000. Not being a believer in walking and watching internet videos, she decided to try her hand at this new age hobby Temera referred to as 'people watching.'
People watching.
It was exciting as she had anticipated. Watching the pedestrians across the street walk and text, and walk and watch videos, and walk and stop in place because they didn't possess the talent to walk and text like some of their brethren—it took an individual of great curiosity and patience to possess a hobby such as this, and Mireh was no such individual. However, she still had 240 seconds to kill, so she kept at it.
Person walking and texting.
Person texting at a red light.
Person licking an ice cream cone on a bench.
Yup. The city didn't get more thrilling than this.
At least not until she spotted a man staring at the sky, frozen in terror. If you, beautiful reader, saw him, you might think that someone had flipped the on/off switch to his brain. But to a Shishiruian, it was plain as day what he was staring at.
It's time we started explaining some things.
Shishiru was an ordinary run-of-the-mill planet filled with ordinary run-of-the-mill people who woke up and ate breakfast and drove cars to work and came home the next day to do it all again tomorrow. Aside from a few little details here and there, it wasn't all that different compared to a planet such as a little-known rock christened Earth. Except for one detail. One little detail that stood out above the rest. One insignificant detail that was, in a sense you could say, world-shattering.
Six billion.
That's how many moons Shishiru had. One for each person. But when a Shishiruian looked up, she saw only two moons: the one almost four hundred kilometers away that spun around the planet and dragged the oceans, and the one directly above her head at all times. Where she went, it went. Wherever she went or whatever she did, it fell, with each passing second. And when it touched down
that was it.
Some said it was the gods, others tried to explain it with science. The truth was, nobody knew. In all the thousands of years that people grew up on and built on and struggled on and laughed on Shishiru, not one person could explain why there were falling moons.
And the moons didn't reverse their position in the sky or halt their descent. They couldn't, and they wouldn't. You could run from the moon, you could try with all your might and wit. But Shishiru was a world where death was set in stone. Old age might not kill you, but a car accident might. Or a collapsing bridge. Or a stray bullet.
The moons
had their way
every
single
time.
So it was easy for a Shishiruian to tell when she was going to die. But she didn't know when another person was going to die. She couldn't see another person's moon, and she didn't ask about it. It was considered bad manners, and sometimes bad luck. Besides, there was no need to ask. The longer another person looked up at the sky, the closer their moon was.
Just like that man across the street, standing there, face turned all the way up.
He probably wasn't going to make it to tomorrow. He wasn't that old, either.
Retta's video ended, but Mireh didn't jump back into the conversation. She watched the man for as long as he was visible.
Why moons?
If Shishiruians were destined to know their deaths, that was the one question Mireh couldn't figure out. Why was a moon the clock that counted down their seconds to live? Why not an actual clock? Or perhaps an hourglass? After all, seeing a Shishiruian stare at their moon was like seeing a person trying to catch the grains from a cracked hourglass that spilled out and blew away like sand.
She watched him watch his moon, and when he was no longer in her sights for one reason
or another
she looked up.
A meteor.591Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3yMgkaneMf
