Mae looked at Miss Doh and saw that she did not feel lucky, cut off high in the hills, but it was important that she acknowledge. 'We are the last, you see,' said Mae. 'The last human beings. After tonight, everywhere, we will be different.'
The Teahouse had a new awning, and tables and chairs laid out on the new pavements. The men played cards or dominoes; some of the women knitted. Mae felt a constant churning like illness in her belly. Suddenly she felt sick and sagged slightly.
'Let's sit, shall we?' Sunni suggested.
Mr Ali stood up and offered a chair. Mae settled, still holding Siao's hand. Kwan seemed to flicker like a knife being sharpened. She shot a glance at Sunni, and Sunni stood up to fetch something or someone.
'I wonder…' Mae began. There was too much to wonder about: Where Joe was now and what he was doing; what Sezen would have done with Air if she had lived; what would happen to Mae's village after Air.
Suloi pulled up a chair, then Mrs Pin, and Mrs Doh. With a sound of scraping chairs, the Circle was suddenly gathered. Out came the clay pipes and tobacco. Siao leaned back and shared his cigarettes with Kuei.
The chat was light and distant, about Soong Chang, who was to wed one of the Pin boys. Mrs Pin must be excited. Had plans proceeded? Siao stood up and craned his neck, trying to catch someone's eye.
'I shouldn't have had anything to eat,' said Mae. She put down her plate.
The food was simply fire, raw on her ulcerated stomach.
'Ooh. All this excitement,' she said.
Sunni came back with Mrs Kosal. 'The new toilet in my house is now working, Mae, if you should need to use it.'
As if on a signal, Siao, Kuei, and Kwan were on their feet.
'Come on, Mae darling, you should see how Mrs Kosal has been able to restore the house.'
Mae chuckled. 'I just need to use the toilet.'
Mrs Hoiyoo was also there, suddenly. Kwan's sister had become a much better friend since the night of the Flood. For some reason she had a towel.
'We all want to see the new house,' said Sunni. 'Better than sitting around waiting for eleven o clock.'
On the radios all around them, Yulduz was singing about Fate, and the fate of the nation being like the fate of a person.
So they dutifully admired the paint on Mrs Kosal's wall, and agreed that there was no trace of damage now, and Kwan drew Mae off into the loo.
'It's 10:40,' warned Mrs Kosal. Her smile shook.
'Don't be frightened,' Mae said to her.
Kwan and Sunni gasped in mock approval at the modern toilet. 'Oh, they have done so well – look at this!'
'So convenient and hygienic,' said Kwan.
'Hot water,' said Sunni, in approval.
'I'm going to be sick,' Mae said shyly. She wanted them to leave.
'Poor darling,' said Kwan, and would not leave her. She patted Mae's back. She looked at Sunni, and Sunni suddenly darted away.
'I'm all right,' Mae said.
'Is it moving?' asked Mrs Kosal.
Mae flung herself forward and Mrs Pin's delicious fish salad shot whole and glossy out of her mouth.
'There,' said Mae. 'That's it.'
Sunni, smiling, stuck her head around the doorway. 'Can we come in?' she asked brightly. She prised the women apart, and Ken Kuei blundered his way forward and then settled, relieved. Siao stood respectfully behind him.
'Ach,' said Mae, 'all of you. Mrs Kosal's new toilet is not more fascinating than the Air. Come on, all of us, or we will miss the show.' She looked at Kwan. 'I feel better, really.'
This time her two men took hold of her, one on each arm.
Mae asked, 'Kuei, what about the girls?'
'They are fine; they are with their cousins. You just think about yourself for once.'
Outside the house was a crowd of people. They stood in silence, turned away from the screens, the car headlights, the radios and the food. They faced the Kosals' house, waiting for Mae.
'She's fine,' Kwan said to them all, in a singsong voice.
'And Mrs Kosal's toilet is very modern,' said Mae, which brought a bit of a chuckle.
Hatijah came forward with a paper boat. She had started to wear black trousers, like her daughter. 'Mrs Chung-ma'am,' she said. 'Have you made a wish?'
'Oh, no! I've forgotten,' said Mae, and took Mrs Ozdemir's arm in gratitude.
'Hurry up,' said Kwan. It seemed that the entire crowd bustled Mae forward, to their little stream.
Since the Flood, the gully was steeper. Their little stream was walled, channelled to the edge of the square, where it dropped away as a waterfall. Mae was supported as she knelt down beside it. The fire in her belly moved again.
'I want another boat!' Mae exclaimed. 'One for my baby!' She looked back and there they all were, all the villagers. Shen had joined his wife, and all the Pin babes crowded round.
'Have mine,' said Ling Dawn.
Two boats of paper with birthday candles.
'Light the candles first, or the boats will float away first,' said Dawn.
Kwan pushed a cigarette lighter into her hand. Mae lit the first candle and set the boat adrift. The boat was made in the old way. It seemed not to soak up the water. It was stable, and it spun away, bearing fire. Mae lit the second, beginning to feel self-conscious, with all those people watching – and her second boat of wishes was borne away, separate from the first.
'That's it, show is over,' she said, standing up. She turned and saw both little boats drop suddenly over the edge.
Then it moved.
Her whole stomach rose up, crammed like a hard pillow. It caught in her gizzard, and something tore. There was another wave; she could feel her gullet clench, relax, push like a serpent. The thing caught, and her gut began to thrash.
'It's coming,' she managed to gasp.
On the scaffolding, Mr Kwan's TV was lit with the face of the tiger Talent. It is almost here, everyone,' the Talent boomed. 'In just two minutes' time, there will be the second coming of the Air. Are you all counting?'
Her sharp, high little voice began to count.
'One minute and fifty-seven seconds.'
The screen shifted to the crowds outside the National Assembly in Balshang. The President was counting.
Mae vomited and vomited, but nothing moved. Her chest heaved.
In Singapore a dancing dragon moved through the crowd.
Push!
Old Mrs Tung was fighting with her.
The dragon inside her moved. The lump reared up and stuck and Mae could not breathe.
Her whole body heaved and fought. Kwan shouted something. Mae felt hands, hands on her wrists, everything about her was slimy with sweat; no one could hold her, she was hot and wringing wet.
'One minute, thirty-five seconds.'
In New York, people were holding hands and singing: 'I heard the news today, oh boy…"'
In Kizuldah, Mr Wing's fireworks erupted, crackling above the ancient fields. Blue and white fire danced in the air, smoky, trailing down like snow made of light. The light also danced on the water. The irrigated fields were full of little boats made of fire, tracing the pattern of the ancient canals.
Mae heaved to suck in air. It came with a thin popping sound, slithering up and over the thing in her throat. She roared again with the sound of vomit, and bent over.
'Forty-nine seconds.'
In Japan, there was a new building made all of wood to celebrate, and balloons were bobbing, ready to be released.
Fire burned the inside of her nostrils. Everything strained, pushing – her new empty hungry belly, the lacerated gullet – it all shifted, and something stuck just behind her mouth, like everything Mae had ever wanted to say: