The Revolving Mountain – Tanatswa Makara

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Tanatswa Makara
Tanatswa Makara is a writer and freelance editor from Bulawayo, Zimbabwe. When he's not writing, he can be found immersed in the world of Football Manager, shouting at dots on a laptop screen.

I’m afraid of getting lost. I would never intentionally put myself in harm’s way. That’s how I know I’m telling the truth.

See, the trick to not getting lost is simple: You should always have a beacon. A lighthouse of sorts. The lights were mine. Deep in that mountain, the village lights were tiny stationary orbs, like resting fireflies. Their soft distant glow was inviting, reassuring me that this was the right direction. The sight of them overwhelmed me with both exhaustion and rejuvenation. A frustrated delight. I took out the pen-like map and pressed the only button there.

“You have passed the Takaz Mausoleum” the robotic voice repeated.

A holographic map leapt out from the tip of the pen. Of course, I had passed the mausoleum about twenty minutes ago. It was hard to miss. They had started building it when I was a child; in honour of the planet’s founders, the first human settlers on Takaz. That was before I left the planet. It truly is a marvel to see, especially in the tint of the setting red sun. Like a glowing castle sculpted into the mountain. But you already know that, don’t you, doctor? The red dot blinked on the still map. I was about ten minutes away from the village. I switched off the map and trudged my way down the mountain to the lights.

My grandmother used to take me up there when I was a child. When they were still digging the foundation. So, I know the mountain pretty well.

“It’s a good thing” she would say, leaning on her staff. “Honouring us like this. Having people’s hands – real hands – dig your grave is an honour. There is no sentiment or dignity in having drones do it. A spirit can’t rest in a grave void of the respect and toiling of the living. You’ll see when you’re older”

I wonder who dug hers. Yes, that is the reason I came back here. I received the news five days ago because of the transmission delay. The old woman in the hologram said she was one of her friends. She also said I was listed on her will as her only next of kin. There was a tinge of anger in her voice. Perhaps, Grandma had told her why we left her on this planet.      

I had to stop after a while. My legs felt heavy. That was when I realized how dark it had gotten. Maybe I was truly lost. There were a lot more trees now than when I last came here. Maybe this was another mausoleum on another mountain. You never know. I took out the pen and switched it on again. The map illuminated the forest around me. The blinking red dot conjured pulsating shadows around me. I stared at it for a moment, waiting for something to change. The thing flashed at the same spot on the map. The exact same spot.

Silhouettes of familiar trees and rocks met my frantic glances. I looked down the mountain. The village lights remained tiny glowing orbs. How long had I been walking? Had I walked at all? I had asked beforehand, you see? At the station shop, I had asked them if their maps had been updated. I’m afraid of getting lost, you see. The staff there, that little boy, had said they were updated. He even gloated that the map’s A.I voice had been sampled from his. I didn’t trust him.

“Looks alright to me” the old man outside said when I showed him the hologram from the pen-map.

I should have just asked for a ride with him. He had been waiting for his shipment of cow embryos.

“Some kind of problem in orbit?” he had asked

“Sort of”

“I see” he tapped a hand on his leg. “Because my cargo was supposed to arrive a couple hours ago”

Well, the thing is— I know…Yes…yes. My point is the map was accurate. Didn’t you find me in that mountain? See? I wasn’t lost. The map was accurate.

The mountain was still. Eerily quiet. No animals. It almost felt like the trees had no leaves. Just looming towers of wooden labyrinths. I sat down, took out a bottle from my backpack and winced as the sour energy drink locked my jaws. I gave the map another look. Nothing had changed. The pen trembled in my hand. I rotated it, looking for a battery slot. Maybe, that was the issue. There didn’t seem to be anything you could pry open with your hands. I stood up and stared down the mountain. There it was. The village hadn’t moved an inch. I could see dots go in and out of the orbs of light. People. Or bots. It was hard to tell at this distance. Frustrated, I walked down the mountain.

I came up with a plan. I’d mark the trees whilst following the trail down the mountain. Just to confirm I was going the right way. I stuffed the pen-map somewhere deep inside my backpack. It might as well be broken. A weight fell off my chest when I saw the distant milky orbs grow with every few steps I made. The increasing brightness surrounding me assured me that I’d be out of the mountain after a few more minutes. In the distance, I could see two kids controlling a four winged cybernetic bird with their remote pads. There was a faint smell in the air too. Something fetid. Like rotting potatoes.

See, this is the part I struggle to comprehend. I was deep in the mountain again. It was as though I never left. I stared at my hands and heard my own trembling laughter. The leaves I had plucked from each tree as I descended were squished in my terrified grip. I had walked down the mountain! I had! My legs gave in and I tumbled to the ground. Sitting on this bed, I understand how it might sound to you. I do. The village was right there. It was right there. I’m terribly afraid of getting lost, you see. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I wept.

My grandmother had this belief, you see. Like most of the first settlers on Takaz, they had their superstitions. Imaginations they had carried from Earth.

“I’m looking forward to be amongst the first generation of ancestors” she laughed. “A place where the revered are buried is sacred.”

Back then, I had laughed too. But at that moment, I believed it. It was as if the mountain had been locked from the outside. With me inside it. I thought of many things and did many more. Most I choose not to say and some I remember very little of. At some point, I took out my bottle and poured some of my energy drink on the ground. I watched the liquid fizz into the ground and waited. It is not logical, I know. I know not what I was waiting for. Perhaps, I expected to somehow see a path I hadn’t seen before. An acceptance of my offering by the ancestors. When nothing happened, I staggered up enraged. I began screaming at the mountain, at my grandmother. You have to understand that I was frightened. I was lost and I didn’t know how. Or why.

“Is this why you won’t lead me home?” I rasped. “Is this why you called me here? I was a child. What did you want me to do? It was Mom’s choice!”

 I was still ranting when I heard it. A hissing nearby. I glanced around. The night, previously animated by my screams, had fallen quiet. I strained my ear and squinted at the darkness hoping either would help. These sounds echoed again from within the darkness, only they weren’t hisses. They were whispers. Voices. I hadn’t realized that I had started jogging into the forest. As I got closer, the voices became clearer. That rotten odour had returned. Stronger this time.

“—always been proud—”

“—my son left the Milky Way to join the—”

“—when do you think she will—”

“—I thought I had more time—”

Perhaps, it was a group of people also lost in the mountain. Or at the very least, someone was playing a recording from the mausoleum. A copy of the first settlers’ last words. I was about to shout at these strangers when I stopped. A thought made me scurry behind a tree. There hadn’t been any footsteps. I waited, letting the night speak, but I heard nothing besides the voices.

“—I see a grander vision for our people—”

“—please…my child…”

The voices were a stone throw behind me. My head lightened at the sudden wave of an overpowering scent. Other sounds within the voices caused me to turn. Distorted noise. Low growls and laboured breaths. Almost human. Almost not. I watched and, as my eyes made sense of the moving silhouette, my reasoned fear morphed into visceral dread.

I saw it slither. Branches snapped as the thing squeezed itself through the trees. The dim night light caught fragments of the creature, revealing an endless wall of scales. I couldn’t see where, or if, it began or ended. My thoughts were lost in the noise. There was chattering everywhere. An abominable blend of hissing, creaking and voices. It spoke with the voices of the dead as it moved.

“—this not Earth—” it coughed. “—no dogs here—”

“—happy—” it sang. “—why am I happy—”

I heard a rustling, a sweeping of leaves nearby, and forced my eyes to the ground. Something like a chaffed rope drifted side to side beside my feet. I backed my feet to the tree till I was standing on my big toes. The rope glided lazily on the ground, brushing away twigs and dirt. The chattering seemed to be moving away from me. I felt my body relax as the creaking grew faint with each second. As the last of the lazy rope slid away, it tapped my feet and froze. The chattering stopped. Spasms shook my body as the thing’s antenna slowly snaked up my leg. The snapping of twigs became louder. More violent. My eyes blurred as the hissing and clicking raced towards me.

“—Leave me here—” a voice growled

I lost my legs and hit the ground. My vision skewed as I was hauled up. Before the clamour drowned out my shrieks, I heard laughter within the many voices.

“—my children—” Grandma cackled. “—generation of ancestors—”   

I cannot tell you more than I already have because that is all I know. I don’t care whether or not you believe me but there is something on that mountain. I don’t know if it was something spiritual like my grandmother’s anger or something worse… Wait. Why don’t you seem surprised at all? Why are you looking at each other like that? D-Do you know what that thing was? Please…You need to tell me. Please tell me!