The GoldenCity

“Three must be,” Michael said, and everyone smiled. Verga knelt in front of the dead man and began to pull off his boots. Two women left the group by the fire and removed the suicide’s hat, clothes, belt and knife. These possessions were placed at Michael’s feet, and the youngest woman smiled shyly.

The dead man’s boots and clothes smelled moldy, but they fit. By the time Michael was dressed, the naked thief had been cut down, and Verga had used his knife to snap open the silver clasp and remove the suicide’s red collar. As the others rolled the body into a shallow ditch, Verga fit the collar around Michael’s neck and forced the clasp back together. The collar was smooth, but fairly heavy; it felt like a thick strip of plastic. Michael wondered if it was an electronic tracking device or just a mark of servitude.

Everyone worked quickly to cover the dead man with branches and brush. When they were done, Michael followed them through the undergrowth to the waterfields. Three of the machines they called “wet crawlers” were a half-mile away, grinding toward the levy. The largest of these machines looked like a crazed mechanic’s amalgamation of a farm tractor and an old-fashioned locomotive. It had a pair of large wheels in back and a smaller single wheel in front, a long cylindrical body and a black box like a riverboat wheelhouse on top. A black cloud of smoke puffed from a red smokestack and drifted across the water. Two smaller machines that looked like dump trucks with three wheels were on opposite sides of the main crawler-meek attendants for a roaring dragon.

Michael touched the handle of the dead man’s knife. He had been expecting a high-tech world that looked like a cinematic version of the future. Where were the talking robots and massive skyscrapers that glowed like crystal spires? Where were the space vehicles floating down from the heavens and gliding into some vast loading dock?

He realized that the wet crawler would destroy the stick marker he had left in the water. If he lost the passageway, then he would be trapped in this primitive world forever. Trying not to look nervous, he approached Verga.

“Where are we harvesting today?”

“Just follow the tips of your boots.” The old man motioned to the area directly in front of them.

Michael pointed in the direction of the passageway. “Are we also going over there?”

“Three suns gone. Three suns come.” Verga said as if this phrase answered the question.

“We guardians don’t speak the same way,” Michael told him. “We’re harvesting here until darkness and then-”

“Three suns gone,” Verga repeated.

While they were talking, the other harvesters had fastened the top part of their boots to their belts. Now their legs were protected from anything swimming in the water. When the wet crawlers were about fifty feet away, they began to make slow turns in the water. One servant controlled each machine while boys tossed chunks of fuel into fire boxes and adjusted the valves.

Verga slapped Michael on the shoulder as if he had just joined a football team. “From now on, you’re ‘Tolmo.’ That was the thief’s tag.”

“What if someone asks about him?”

“They don’t care about our faces. That’s as clear as the boots I’m standin’ in. Only the gods watch our lives.”

The harvesters clutched their knives as if they were going to climb onto the crawler and kill everyone onboard. The machinery squealed and chugged and spat little jets of steam. Suddenly, Verga reached into the water and pulled up a green, pumpkin-size plant still attached to its leafy vines.

“This here’s a spark. Don’t know what you guardians call it. Now you want to take your knife and cut right around the base root. Trim the side vines off and toss your harvest into the feeder.” He picked up a smaller plant. “Now this one is still growing. And this one…” Verga grabbed Michael’s hand and pushed it below the surface so he could feel a large, smooth object. “That’s a mother plant. We leave that to birth the next measure.”

“I understand.”

“Slow and steady wins the day. Don’t cut your leg with your blade.”

“There are creatures in the water. I got bit.”

A few people laughed, and Verga tugged down the brim of Michael’s hat. “If a finner starts chewin’ on you, just let me know. He’ll end up in the pot.”

Now that the main crawler had stopped, Michael could see the equipment attached to the back of the machine. A metal frame held a long conveyer belt that was only a few inches above the water. The horizontal belt fed the harvested spark to a vertical wire tube with a screw device revolving inside. Once the spark reached the top of the tube, it could be directed into the hoppers carried by the two auxiliary machines.