Seeds by Pamela Zero

 

Seeds

by Pamela Zero

Jeela held his mother’s hand tightly and squinted into the sky. “I can’t see them, Mommy! Where are they?”

“Patience, honey,” replied Suelsi. “They have to go to the capital first. They’ll be here soon.”

The little boy hopped in place, twisting and turning while holding fast to his parent’s hand. He was dressed in an intricately embroidered tunic with a rainbow of colors stitched into delicate globe shapes. His mother wore a simple white smock and had threaded a white ribbon through her dark hair. They were standing in the town square, surrounded by their friends and neighbors, all of them creating a wild palette of bright colors and white.

“There! There’s one! Is that one?” the boy shouted.

A murmur swept through the crowd, as a few distant, feathery spheres appeared high up in the sky. They rolled overhead, followed by more, until the sky was full of tumbling balls of gossamer. Their paths seemed erratic, but it was clear they were slowly descending, closer and closer.

“They’re here! The Friss are here! Mommy, where are the seeds?” Jeela looked around frantically, and then saw the bundle of sticks topped with seed heads his mother was offering him. “Thanks!” He waved the stalks wildly above his head as his mother lifted him up and sat him on her shoulders. Around them, others were doing the same. In a few moments, the square was filled with bright colors atop white shoulders, with every child clutching their seeds and waving with all their might.

“Thank you!”, shouted Jeela. “Thank you! We are grateful! Thank you!” He glanced around to see his friend from next door a few shoulders over. “Loeter!”

Loeter grinned at him and waved his seeds.

This was the second year that Jeela had come to the square to offer seeds to the Friss. His older sister used to come too, and stand on a chair to get high enough, but she said she was too grown up for that now. Jeela loved wearing his special tunic and shaking the seeds. He especially enjoyed the shouting. Most of the time his mom told him to use his inside voice. Sometimes she said that even when he was outside.

Today he got to shout all he wanted. The louder the better, so the Friss would hear his gratitude. His teacher had said that a while ago everyone all around the world was very sick. Just one Friss had come over from the planet next door and dropped medicine that made people better. Jeela thought that was pretty far away to come all by yourself, even if you were a Friss and had a spaceship. That one Friss saved everyone from dying, but it got too tired after all that work and it died.

He waved his arm faster as he noticed a Friss rolling near him. It dipped closer and he saw the snowflake pattern of its spokes, and the dense area in the center where its brain was. He tried to shout but all that came out was a whisper. “Thank you.” He held out his seeds and the Friss extended a spoke slowly. The end of the spoke curled around the seeds and stripped them off the stalks. Jeela watched in awe as the Friss stored the seeds in its center, then puffed out a small cloud towards him. For a moment, the air smelled like flowers and rain and then the Friss was gone, tumbling up and over back into the sky.

“Mommy! Mommy I did it! I gave it the seeds!”

“Well done, Jeela! Did you say thank you?” Suelsi patted his legs.

“I did but I wasn’t very loud.” He frowned.

“I’m sure it heard you honey. Alright, should we stay for a bit more or do you want to go home and have lunch?”

“Lunch!” Jeela wiggled as his mother lifted him down. He dropped the leftover sticks on the ground as he took his mother’s hand.

The mourners bounced through the atmosphere, buffeted by high altitude winds as they tumbled towards the planet’s surface. There were thousands of them. Gionsly was a peaceful planet, with just one, fairly small, continent. The Friss had made this pilgrimage for years now, ever since their neighboring planet had been struck by a plague. Their fellow Friss, Sll, had taken it upon itself to help, but the cost had been too high. It had died, spokes broken, after scattering the cure it made from its own body into the continental air currents.

The beings that it saved were grateful, and had put up a statue of Sll in their capital city. The statue showed it hale and whole, spokes unbent. At the base was a plaque that blew air scented with the clean, clear smell of Frissian flowers.

Every year this pilgrimage was made. Finding the statue of Sll, was easy. Paying respects was simple, as was layering the scents of the forest around the capital city so Sll’s spirit could rest. The difficult part was visiting the saved beings themselves. They moved quickly and erratically. They didn’t seem to use their sense of smell and their own odors were somewhat difficult to parse. Nonetheless, honor must be shown to those who sacrifice, so the Friss came every year to mourn Sll in the company of the beings it had saved.

This year was Wrr’s first pilgrimage. It was worried. What if it got lost? What if it got hit by one of the lumpy beings? They moved so fast. Wrr focused and made sure to keep up with its group as they layered the smell of fresh moss around the bushes in the capital city. After a while it smelled the scent in the air that signaled the tour of the villages. Wrr rose with its group and headed to the first village on their list.

When they got close to their target, Wrr dropped to the back of the group. It felt a flush of shame, but stubbornly held its position. This high up no one would smell it and it could barely see the lumpy people below. With any luck, all the seeds would be gathered without it having to interact with any of the lumpies. In a few minutes the smell of leaving filled its spokes and it gusted relief in spite of itself. It managed to keep to the back, up high, for the next two villages as well.

The last village twisted into view below. It saw a mass of color and waving seeds. One of the lumpy beings was making a hole in its face, over and over. It looked very agitated and was moving its seeds around at a rapid rate. In spite of Wrr’s caution, it lowered itself down to see if the lumpy was alright. The lumpy stopped moving and its face hole appeared again, but much smaller. Wrr rippled its spokes in a pattern of mourning. The lumpy moved the seeds closer, and Wrr prepared a cloud of Sll’s scents to share sorrow, then took the seeds. The lumpy was still and Wrr released its cloud, full of sadness and pride. It watched the lumpy breathe Sll’s scents in, and felt the power of shared grief.

Wrr rose up and headed to the upper atmosphere. This year’s pilgrimage was done. Sll had been honored, by both races, and it had not shirked its duty completely. It even had seeds to sow in the community garden. It felt its spokes ruffle as it flew, and let a scent of joy and relief waft through the thin air. “Rest well Sll. Be at peace”, it thought. “Worlds of beings honor you.”

Pamela Zero is the author of the Visitor Series, a trilogy featuring people pulled forward hundreds of thousands of years into the future.

You can check out her amazon page here

and her debut novel, the first in the trilogy here.