Bas loved these places. Loved the vibrancy, the pulsing, beating life of them. The heat and energy flowing in waves around her was almost tangible: it was like standing in a supercharger.
She stepped from the darkness into the light.
The multicoloured strobing, flickering light of the huge dance floor.
Into the throbbing mass of young people.
The strength of her aura gently pushed them away. They couldn't feel it, didn't know it was happening but the slide of a foot was softly nudged to one side, a swaying body rolled left instead of right and Bas slipped through the gap created: like a ship through water; parting at the bow, closing at the stern.
A memory came to her. A memory of a ship: a ship leaving Eridu. The first ship and the first city. A ship long gone. A city now standing only in ruin.
A memory from long ago.
From her first days.
The days after her first day.
Bas rememered that first day, her awakening, as though it were yesterday: she could recall every day she had ever lived, in fact she could recall everything she had ever done, everything she had ever learnt: she could recall everything since that moment of her awakening, it was one of her curses; that memory of everything. But that first day, that day of her awakening, was the one she thought of the most.
She wasn't called Bas then. She wasn't called anything.
She opened her eyes.
She was lying on her side, curled up with her knees tucked into her chest.
Looking at white sand.
She didn't move.
Her mind was a blank. Just the knowledge that she was lying on her side, curled up with her knees tucked into her chest. Looking at white sand.
She rolled onto her back and looked at the sky. She didn't know why it was the sky, she just did. It was blue.
And the sun. She didn't know why it was the sun, she just did. It was yellow.
She climbed to her feet.
Turned in a full circle.
There was nothing but blue sky and white sand, a seemingly dead straight line dividing the two. The horizon.
She looked down at herself. Pink skin, arms and legs, hands and feet, breasts with small, dark nipples. She studied her hands: turning them over, long slender fingers, pink nails. She ran her fingers over her face: eyes, eyebrows, nose, mouth, lips, teeth, saw hair from the corner of her eye, pulled it around; black, long; down to her bum, her fingers traced over her buttocks.
She turned another full circle. Still nothing but white sand, blue sky and the yellow sun. She looked down at her feet, at the impression her body had made and the indentations from her shuffling feet.
She looked up and started walking. She had to do something and this was the way she was facing.
It was the day of her awakening.
At one point she looked back. Her line of footprints stretched back in a perfectly straight line all the way to the horizon.
Day turned to night and she walked. Walked and thought.
After a long time of dark a sliver of white appeared above, what she still assumed, was the horizon. She instantly knew it was the moon. She didn't know how she knew, she just did. She watched it until it was a full disc of white, then started walking again.
She walked and thought.
The next day dawned. She stopped and watched as the sky brightened and the sun rose. Then she started walking again.
Nothing changed, except day into night, night into day.
She thought about herself and about her surroundings.
She seemed to know things, she didn't know how, she just did. Her mind had been blank at that moment of her awakening, but the instant she'd seen the sand she'd known it was sand. The same with the sky, the sun, the horizon and the moon.
She'd looked at herself, seen arms, legs and so on. She'd seen her breasts, had known what they were: had known that she was a woman.
She'd watched her muscles flex as she'd walked, known what they were, what they did and how they worked.
Four days and four nights. That's how long she walked. She'd stop twice each day; to watch the sun rise and to watch it set, each time she'd look back at the perfectly straight line of her footprints and then start walking again.
She learnt a lot about herself in those four days and nights. She didn't know where the knowledge came from, it just came. If she looked at something, in this case: herself, then she understood.
But she still didn't know who she was.
As the fifth day dawned she sensed a change. She changed direction. The sun was passed its zenith when she heard a sound.
As it grew louder she understood that she was getting nearer to its source. The sun was setting when, in the shimmering distance, she saw something white.
The moon was high by the time she was close enough to understand what they were; a number of buildings surrounded by a wall.
She walked in a wide circle, arriving back at her footprints as black began to turn to gray.
She'd seen that there were two ways through the wall: one directly in front of her, the other on the opposite side where the ground leading away from the buildings was much firmer and interspersed with the occasional clump of what seemed to be plants. Both were blocked.
She walked around again until she was in a position where she could see both entrances and then walked away until she was almost out of sight. Knew that her footprints would betray her.
All these things she hadn't known five days and nights ago.
Not long after the sun rose she watched as a number of four legged animals, goats, came rushing out of the entrance leading out onto the firm ground.
They were followed by two people, an adult and a child. They looked the same as her except for long white garments covering their bodies and a head covering, and, although it was hard to tell from this distance, it seemed that their skin was much darker than hers.
The goats and the two people turned away and disappeared from sight.
Through the rest of the day she watched a number of people appear, they would stand just outside the wall and stare out into the sand, then they disappeared back into what was clearly a settlement.
She stayed where she was throughout that day, and through the next two. Each night the entrance was blocked and each morning it was opened, by the third day nobody ventured out other than the goats and their two attendants.
Midway through the third night she approached the wall. Many of the structures were built against it but there were plenty of gaps between. She reached up and, without any effort at all, climbed to the top.
Squatting on top of the wall she felt lighter, stronger than she had in days, she could feel something, something she hadn't felt before, as though she was drawing something from around her, from the structures, the buildings, something from inside the buildings. She didn't understand.
She dropped to the ground. Padded soundlessly forward.
Coming around a corner two animals, dogs, lifted their heads and looked at her, they didn't move, didn't make a sound, just watched.
It was a small settlement, smaller than it looked from outside. She came across the goats in a small pen, those that were awake watched with wide, black eyes as she passed.
A door was slightly ajar, without hesitation she pushed it wider and stepped in. A small room with two more beyond.
Two people lying on a platform in one, two children in the other.
That feeling again. Of taking something. From these people. She'd felt it as she'd passed the buildings, passed the animals, now it felt stronger, cleaner.
A pile of garments in one corner. She chose one and slipped it over her head, took a head covering and wrapped it around hers in the manner she'd seen.
She took a last look around then left, made her way through to the opposite, outer wall. Climbed over and followed the line of scuffed footprints that led away across the much harder ground towards the horizon.
She walked for the rest of the night and into the next day.
She thought about what had happened. About that feeling.
She still didn't understand it. But she knew it had made her feel stronger, how her hearing had sharpened, how she'd been able to see more clearly, how her skin had tingled. Knew that what she had taken she had needed.
There were two people ahead of her, coming towards her.
They had their faces covered by a turn of their head covering. She copied them: covered everything but her eyes.
She kept walking as they got nearer. They were talking, gesturing with their hands as they talked.
They kept walking, didn't look at her, didn't acknowledge her presence.
She stopped.
Still they kept walking. She turned as they passed, watched them.
They didn't pause, didn't look, didn't stop talking.
It was as though they hadn't seen her.
Something else to think about.
As the sun began to drop she saw another small settlement ahead.
The entrances were still open so she walked straight through. Again that feeling of drawing something, an energy, from her surroundings, from the people and animals around her.
Through the night and the next day. The next, and the next.
She started to see more and more settlements, more and more people. She'd quickly realised that the animals; the goats and the dogs, the occasional cow, could see her, the people couldn't. But once, a man had stumbled as he'd passed and his foot had touched hers, he'd looked up as though surprised, shocked that he hadn't seen her until that moment of contact, and he'd shied away at what he'd seen.
She'd kept walking, hadn't looked back but knew that he was standing watching her.
And then, finally, ahead, was a much larger settlement, much larger.
She knew it. But she also knew that she'd never seen it before, but still she knew it. This city called Eridu.
Surrounded by high walls the structures inside were taller, more substantial than those she'd seen before.
And the nearer she got the stronger that feeling. That feeling of people. That feeling of drawing something from them. An energy. But there were too many people, too much energy. It was beginning to overwhelm.
