The Sky Is Not Blue

Gless and Gliss are She and He, and Gress are They beneath Them.

This is writ on every door and over every fire. That is what sounds in every house at 1900 hours. The Wake is when the day begins just as the sun sets slowly. And work for Gress begins again to match the daily gloaming.

The work is done for Gless and Gliss and all the land bestowed them. The land stays strong and ever rich and Gress bow to what’s given. For their work the Gress are fed and kept warm in the winter. Should Gress not bow or work their share the land will turn to cinder.

Glem are They Beyond the Land who betray Gless and Gliss. Glem sup on flesh of their own dead and bathe in poisoned mist. Glem would still be happy Gress had not their minds turned foul. And Gress could all be turned to Glem should they refuse to bow.

* * *

A crowd of thousands stood in an open square. They were stoic, and they were silent. They were smartly dressed. There was neither mourning nor jubilation, just a sea of living statues summoned from sleep for this occasion. The sun bounced through the open afternoon, glinting off the glassy behemoths nearby. Red and black tapestries lined one side of the square; gold and black the other. They flapped and curled in the wind. A swarm of flying machines buzzed overhead like so many tiny insects. Screens the size of houses lurched over the crowd, broadcasting the scene back onto itself like giant inverted mirrors.

At the center of it all was a round pit with high walls, and inside the pit stood another crowd of a thousand more. But this one screamed and chanted and spat obscenities unto the unmoved faces peering down at them. They were dressed in the soiled clothes of the Gress, and the soot, sweat, and spots of blood on their garments seemed too to be sewn into their very beings. There were women and men and children among them, and some carried young too small to stand. Some shook and their teeth chattered together, even though the sun was warm. Some were on the floor, pulling their knees into their chests. Some had fallen faint and were trampled. One woman near a wall of the pit began to give birth, yowling and spurting fluids. One of the tiny flying machines dropped into the pit and hovered above the woman, and her agonized red face and bared teeth were displayed prominently on the looming screens above.

The crowd circling the pit looked on silently as a hush befell those inside. For a moment there seemed to be a confused, sluggish serenity hanging over the square. The wind stopped and the tapestries fell limp. Each of the massive screens showed a wide shot of the entire pit and those inside.

The quiet broke into an explosive din as jets of flame spewed from the floor and walls of the well, enveloping those inside in blue-white heat and turning the whole scene to a furnace. The screams were high and inhuman, and the last of them came after only 10 seconds of endless fire. The square fell silent once again as it filled with choking grey smoke and the stench of burnt meat, fat, and hair.

The screens flickered off and the crowd dispersed without a sound, going back to their beds until the day began again at duskbreak.

* * *

Sister and Brother laid on their bellies underneath a heavy wooden table; its legs were ornately carved and glowed orange from a fire burning in a hearth across the room. Shoulder-to-shoulder they stared down at a thin rectangle on the floor. On it, the image of a thousand bodies consumed in flame and smoke stared back at the them. Sister waved her left hand in the air and the image disappeared, leaving just a clear tablet before them. She grasped the heart-shaped locket hanging from her neck.

“Those were Gress,” she said.

Brother nodded.

“What did they do?”

“I don’t know,” Brother said. “Something bad.”

There was a pause and the fire crackled.

“Aren’t we Gress?” Sister asked Brother, and he laughed.

“We are not Gress! Mother and Father have special work. Not Gress work.” He pointed at the tablet. “If you’re worried about that happening to us, you shouldn’t. That only happens to Gress.”

“Why?” Sister asked.

Brother sighed and pushed himself up onto his knees. “Come on, we need to go back to bed. Mother and Father will be back from the burning in just awhile.”

“Why do they burn them in the afternoon when everyone is asleep?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it makes it more special,” Brother said. “Or maybe because of the smell.”

* * *

Sister held her heart-shaped locket close to her chest. She knew Mother and Father would not be home. Never. She squeezed the locket tightly. A gift from Mother’s Mother. Irradiated but safe now, after the Travesties. She knew they were orphans, and she was afraid. But she could not tell Brother. He could not understand. Gless and Gliss are She and He and Gress are they beneath them.