– by T’esshe

The boys ran through the dewy grass, and as they passed through it the water splashed on their legs and onto the ground and the grass sprang up straighter, so that when they looked behind them they could see the path they’d come. “You’re soaking!” One laughed out. “Yeah, you too!”, and they ran on.

They dried out on the riverbank afterwards and chewed nuts and listened to the gurgle of the water passing by. It was sunny.

“Hey, you need to help your dad this afternoon, right?” The other plucked out bits of shell and threw them into the water. “Yeah,” he said, “The wind’s coming from the east so the bugs’ll be in – for sure.”

“Want some help?”

“Yeah!” The father’s boy turned his head. “You wanna catch bugs all afternoon?” He smiled, laughing that such a thing might be attractive to someone.

“Sure, what am I going to do? Sit here by myself?”

“Great. Dad will appreciate the help too.”

They sat for a while longer, laughing and throwing sticks at each other. When the nuts were gone they made their way back to the farms, their trail through the grass dried out by the sun. They parted for lunch and the helper’s friend said he’d meet them afterwards.

After lunch the helper and his father headed out to the gate in their long wagon, the one that got hitched to four beasts. They stopped to pick up the helper’s friend and he jumped into the back. The boy joined him and the two of them sat with their legs hanging over the edge as the father steered the beasts up the dirt path to where the wheat grew. The wind had come up. It would be very windy when they arrived, and the bugs would certainly come. It was going to be a busy afternoon.

When the father stopped the wagon, there was already a buzzing in the air. To the north-east the sky was dark. They were at the entrance to the large field and the father spoke to the friend, “you’ll be getting the older net. Handle’s still fine, weight too, but the net has holes in it.” He pulled out the sweep net and smiled at the boy. “You’re a first timer after all, and first timers always get the bad net. So when you think you’re in a thick spot, drop the weight, and run around it with the net. Catch as many as you can, but don’t hold the net too high, or too long, or you’ll just get tired. The trap –“ the father tapped the black cylinder at the end of the net, “- isn’t heavy, but it can crack if you drop it on the ground too hard. We’re going until supper time, so take breaks!”

A few other wagons pulled up and other men and boys got out. Soon the field of wheat was alive with nets and the good-natured yells of the harvest. The locusts, emerging from the dark cloud to the north east, had already started coming in. Loud flying insects, they followed the wind, half flying and half falling. The two boys stuck close together, the helper laughing as his friend swiped at the bugs that landed on him. “A lot different from picking carrots, huh?”

Soon the sky was thick with the bugs. The boys dropped their weights, which were attached to a pivot at the end of the handle, and ran around them, scooping up as many of the bugs as they could. Runners would come along on occasion and switch out their traps, leaving them with empty ones. Looking up, the father’s boy took in the strange dance of the silky strong nets as they moved up and down, fully inflated in the wind, with men running madly in circles beneath them.

Being boys they were tired long before the end of the day, and they slowed down. The friend was sore and had blisters, but threw a bug at the father’s boy and laughed when it landed in his face. The father’s boy feigned anger, “I’m gonna put you in this net!”, and chased his friend. “Hey, make for the hilltop, the grass is shorter – less bugs – we can take a break.”

They worked themselves away from the other harvesters until they were at the top of a small rise. The bugs were lighter here, having less reason to stay on the rocky ground. “Look east” The friend said. “Still dark. Dark way up high too.” The sky roiled with dark clouds. And then he said, “I wish I could see what was up there.”

The father’s boy responded, “What? There’s only more bugs up there.” After a pause, he asked his friend, “So, you wanna help tomorrow too?”

“The locusts are delicious, and good for you.” The next day the two boys were riding with the father out to the fields where the grain grew. The father was telling the boy’s friend about the bugs. “My grandfather used to harvest them when they came in. Just like him, we sell the bugs in town, and to the merchants. They’re a delicacy! I’ve had merchants tell me that our harvest goes all the way to the westlands. If the wind is good, like this year, we do well for the rest of the year.”

When they arrived to the fields, the boys followed their previous day’s path out towards the hill. Stopping on the hill for a break, the father’s boy picked a bug from the ground, and smiling at his friend, bit the top half of it off in his mouth. He crunched and his friend’s eyes widened. “My dad says they’re best when they’re fresh.”

“Yuck.”

The father’s boy continued chewing for awhile and then spit the masticated bug to the ground. “Yeah. It is. I don’t know how dad eats them.” They laughed.

They looked to the north and east, relaxing easily while the bugs crashed all around them. Towards the north the fields ended in bluffs, and the sea disappeared into the horizon. The cloud of bugs was dark and full. “How can such a dark cloud be made out of just bugs?” asked the friend. The buzzing was louder than yesterday.

“That’s darker then I’ve ever seen it.” The swarm was darker than it had ever been, and it was now thicker than it had been. “Maybe we should go back.”

They made their way back towards the rest of the harvesters and the front of the fields. The others had come in as well, unnerved by the thickness of the bugs and the darkness of the horizon. But the father was in good spirits.

“Come on lads, we’re going to have a bumper crop this year!” Empty your traps and get back into the fields! This will be a swarm to remember! Fill our wagons boys! The whole world will benefit from the taste and health of our crop!” The workers were bolstered by his talk and moved back into the fields. “Remember, every trap filled with bugs is another day spent cozy come this winter! The swarm will keep our bellies full come winter! The harvest has come in!” He slapped bugs from men’s shoulders and emptied traps into the wagons.

And so they worked. The two boys kept close to the rest of the group now, and the father’s boy looked anxiously at the cloud to the north. The bugs fell on the grain and the nets furled like living things through the air. Beneath them the men ran in erratic circles.

That night, with the wind down and the buzzing quieted, the father sat with his wife and the boy. He said that the crop was very big this year, and that tomorrow would be the most memorable harvest of his life. “The bugs will black out the sun and be thick in the air and at the end of the day we’ll have the peace that comes with knowing that the harvest is done, and we’ll have more than enough to last us comfortably through the winter.”

Just like the father had predicted, the next afternoon the wind was strong and the sky was black with bugs. The workers were unnerved, but the father laughed and clapped men on the back and sent them all out into the fields. He spoke to the boys: “You are very lucky today! You may live 200 years and not see another harvest like today. Work hard, and today you’ll have something to tell your own children about.” He sent them out to the fields.

The boys worked mostly in quiet until the boy’s friend broke the silence, saying, “You can barely see the sky!” But shortly afterwards he sucked air into his lungs and yelled. “Look up! There is something in the sky! Everywhere! Above the bugs!”

The father’s boy stopped dancing around his weight and brought his net down. He looked to the sky and his jaw opened. The net fell from his hands. “What is it?”

In the sky, high above the bugs, were many shapes. They moved slowly through the air above them. Large shapes, like behemoth birds. Impossibly large. “They’re not animals. They’re so big! What are they?” asked the father’s boy.

“We need to go back now!” the friend wailed, and the two boys dropped their nets and ran through the field, bugs crunching beneath their boots. The boy looked up as he ran and saw that they were metal, thick and heavy-looking. The sky was full with the foreign machines. As they ran the boy saw that one of them in particular was closer. It moved towards them at an angle. It was close enough to see that it was clearly a machine, a great steel machine, colored golden and reflecting the sun when it broke through the cloud of machines above.

“Do you see it?” “Yes!” The friend answered. They looked at it as they ran. It was shaped like a giant bird, with broad short wings jutting from either side and a large hooked nose at the front. It grew closer as the boys ran, and they boy thought that maybe it could see them. An overpowering roar found them, quickly overcoming the sound of the buzzing until it filled the entire world. The machine grew closer, and was now low enough to definitely be over the field, to be near to the boys.

“Run!” The father’s boy screamed. They fled through the field, stalks striking their faces and legs. Bugs hit them and stuck to their clothes, and the boys didn’t notice for their fear. The machine was now slowly moving over top of them and it blotted out the sky, its shadow swallowing the boys in a twilight. It descended lower. Looking back and to the side the boy could see that behind the machine the air was distorted, and in it the bugs were disappearing into thousands of orange sparks. The hooked nose of the great thing was pointed the same direction in which the boys were running.

Finally the boy saw his father near the wagons, with the other men. He didn’t slow down until he reached his father’s arms. The father embraced him and held him tight. When the boy’s friend reached them the father reached with one arm, bringing him into the embrace. The boy dried his tears on his father’s shoulder and looked around. The bugs had disappeared from the air.

“Dad?”

“Don’t move son, stay with your dad.”

The boys buried their heads into the father’s shoulders and they stayed there. The roar changed and, after some time, fell away. At first the boy thought his ears were ringing, but he realized there was a new sound. A humming sound. He raised his eyes. They were still in shadow. He could see no bugs. The humming was low pitched, and not at all unpleasant. He turned his head back and up.

The machine was above and to the side. It hung in the air, high up so that several houses on top of one another would not reach it. The humming continued and all the workers stood staring. The boy turned around, and tugged on his friend’s shoulder. “Look!” He said.

From near the front of the giant flying machine something emerged downwards from the underside of the machine. It protruded like a tumor, until it became separate – a giant, grey egg, the size of one of the wagons. It descended towards the ground, hanging from several black tendrils until it reached the ground. The giant metal pod settled there, and sat pointing up. It was not smooth up close, but rough, with plates of metal, and depressions, and ridges. The boy could hear the men around him quietly swearing and breathing quickly. The boy looked at his friend, who was staring at the thing. Aside from the low humming it was quiet, the most quiet it had been in days.

The thing moved. A wet crack, as if from an egg, came from the pod. A section in the lower two-thirds of the thing moved out and rotated upwards. Thick slime oozed to the ground from around the edge. There was movement, and someone amongst the men took a panicked breath.

A leg emerged. Then the whole thing. The boy was shocked, “It’s a man! There’s a man inside!”

He was a tall man, with grey skin and an oppressive brow. He wore foreign black clothes that clung to his body and he stood and looked at the workers, and then at the field around him. He walked towards the men, seemingly calm.

His boot crunched on something. The man stopped and looked down, moved his boot. It was a locust. The boy looked around and saw for the first time that the bugs were still there, clinging silently to the grass or lying on the ground. The foreign man reached down and picked up a bug and continued walking. The boy stared as the man surveyed them all and then took a bite from the bug. He chewed. He took another bite. He neared them and stood several feet away from the boys and the father. He looked at the trio and chewed. Then he brushed his hands clean and closed the distance to the father.

“Get behind me boys.” The father said, and the boys darted behind the father’s big frame. The foreigner stood in front of the father and looked at him. The workers stared, too afraid to breathe. The foreigner lifted a hand and placed it on the father’s shoulder. The father didn’t flinch, and looked up at the man. The foreigner smiled and, incredibly, gave the father’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. He gave a single word. “Amarr”. The hum in the air was the only sound. The workers held their breath. The father looked at the man, and nodded, slowly.

The foreigner clapped the father on his shoulder and stepped back and addressed all the workers: “Amarrian.” He was smiling. Then he looked directly at the boy, still hiding behind his father. The man stepped in close to the father and, reaching around, cupped the boy’s chin with his hand. The boy found he wasn’t frightened to have the man touch him, he was frightened at the thought of moving away from him. The man looked at him, and winked. The boy went cold, and chills ran through his body.

The foreigner released the boy’s head and turned, walking back towards where he’d come. He reached the pod and put a leg in, but then, thinking better, removed it and looked to the ground. He stooped and gathered several bugs in his hands and then straightened, stepping into the pod and disappearing. The displaced section swung down and back into place. There was a moment of silence and then the tendrils hanging from the machine above to the egg went tight, and the thing went up, up, and back inside the giant metal cradle that birthed it.

There was a moment of silence, and all the workers quietly stared at the colossal machine floating in the sky above them. It was nearing dusk and the sun, low on the horizon, was orange and beautiful as it scattered on the gold of the flying machine. Then the roar rose again and the machine moved, its giant hooked nose angling upward. The giant thing began to move up and over the heads of the workers, moving to join the sky that was dark with untold numbers of giant machines, all golden and terrible, filling the whole sky and moving from one end to another. The machine moved higher and higher until it became just another machine amongst the untold numbers, disappearing into the swarm.