Dire lack of friendly aliens
No-one’s been here for a long time. There’s plenty of animal life, though. Ten thousand birds, all singing in the evening. Little pigs which shoot out of the bushes and go racing off, shrieking as if I’d hit them. Chittering squirrelly types jumping from wall to wall. I even saw a cat, a slinky grey one, no different from home. All these different animals, seething through a town overgrown and deserted and empty.
It wasn’t a modern town, back when people lived in it. There’s no remains of cars or powerlines or anything like that. But it’s not caveman primitive either. I can’t figure out how the buildings were made, since the walls and roofs all seem to be one single piece of white stone. Like someone took a big block of plaster of Paris and carved out the parts they didn’t need to make rooms and doors and windows, and then added pretty decorations around the edges. It’s held up really welclass="underline" worn but solid.
Of the doors and shutters and furniture, most has left barely a trace, making it clear the people have been gone more than a few years. There’s little remaining in the couple of houses I’ve dared to look into, though there’s plenty of guck and muck. No visible bones of people, fortunately – this doesn’t seem to be like Pompeii.
It’s getting dark around 9.30pm (Sydney daylight savings time) and it’s too gloomy right now to explore more. I’m going to sleep on the roof of the house nearest the edge, then take a proper look tomorrow. Over the next couple of days I’ll hunt for useful stuff and decide whether or not to stay. The fact that this one town is empty doesn’t mean anything. Look at Macchu Piccu – it being deserted didn’t mean the rest of the world was. And this means there were people here once.
Friday, November 30
Town ramble
The buildings are all made of this white stone, and have pointed arches for doors and windows. Every one where I’ve bothered to climb up to look has a raised circle pattern in the middle of the roof which I think might represent some kind of flower: each has a central dot and then petals or beams or something radiating out from it to a thick rim. The roofs themselves are slightly indented, and there’s drainage holes at each corner, though no downpipes.
The most common type of building is two levels at the front, and one at the back, with a fenced-off bit of garden. They look like terrace houses, but not pressed up against each other. The upstairs windows are pointed arches as well, but much flatter, like someone sat on them. Then there’s the buildings which are L-shaped downstairs, with no levels on top, and a wall rounding off a square for their garden. There are other configurations, but almost everything is square. Even the two or three towers are just a stack of slightly smaller squares on top of each other.
That makes it sounds really bare and ugly, but it’s not. Partly because there’s so many plants growing over everything, but mainly because everything’s decorated. Around the bottom of every building, and around each window and door is a border. Geometric shapes, or occasionally little stylised animals. All faded yellow and blue and green, with red-earth tones showing up every so often.
I’ve been walking around the town for the entire day. The roads make it fairly easy going, but I put my shoes back on because there’s occasional sharp rubble. Shattered pottery. After I’d made it over the hill I could see both that the lake is huge, and that the town stretches well along the right side of it. I headed toward what looked to be the town centre, where there were some larger clear paved areas, and two of the four-storey towers.
The tower on the north edge of town is closest to the lake, so I picked it for my basecamp. Fort Cass. I’m sleeping on the roof tonight, since the sky is clear and there’s less dirt up here.
I haven’t found any bodies, or not obvious ones, though the chance of unearthing some bones is one of the reasons I’m not that keen on kicking through the grot. Did the people choose to leave, and abandon this place? Was it a plague? A war?
December
Saturday, December 1
Housekeeping
All this morning I’ve focused on Fort Cass. First I searched it properly, and took anything that looked useful up to the roof. The bottom of every room is thick with muck, dust and the remains of ancient bug-nests. I’m being extra careful in case of spiders. Or, y’know, mind-controlling tentacle monsters.
Metal objects come in two types: the things that fall into flaky red crumble when I pick them up, and the things which are green-black but whole. Most of the green-black things seem to be decorative, unfortunately. A pretty statue of a pippin, which I’ve adopted for company. What might be a belt buckle. Some cups. No knives so far, let alone needles. I don’t think the tower was a place people lived, but perhaps a place they worked, or a look-out.
After my search I kicked all the big rubble out of the top level and swept it out using the most bodged-up attempt at a broom ever. The handle fell straight off a jug I found, but it would hold water so I sloshed and swept and scraped the floor, and knocked down all the cobwebs. Not too bad.
Next on the agenda are hairy sheep. I spotted them on one of my trips to the lake: a little flock had come down to the bank to drink. They were north, out beyond the buildings, and wandered off when I went near them. I’m pretty sure they are sheep, since they looked woolly, but they had horns, and long hair growing in the wool. The horns make me a bit nervous, but I’m hoping I can go and cut some wool off them. Unless they have pointy teeth, in which case I’ll pass.
Sheepses
The hairy sheep are guarded by great big hairy rams. All of them except the little ones have horns, but the rams have big twirling ones, and scarred foreheads from bashing up against each other or anything silly enough to come near their ewes. I bet the ewes would give me a good knock too, and in the end I decided not to risk any of them. They might have been domesticated once, but they’re not keen on people now.
I still came back with a haul of wool, though. The sheep live on the hills north of town, the biggest unforested patch of ground I’ve seen so far. Other than a few trees, the grass is broken up by rocks and berry bushes. These are a different sort to the tearberries, also green but going on pink. More sour than cranberries, so I’m guessing they’re not ripe yet either. Anyway, the important thing about them is they’re thorny, and snag anything which comes near them.
For the price of a few scratches I filled my backpack with tufts of wool, crammed in hard, and there’s plenty more back there. The wool is yellow and grotty, but a huge step up from string made out of grass stalks. I have a thousand plans for it, but first on the list is cleaning it. Which means tomorrow I’m going to have to bite the bullet and try to make fire.
If I can manage fire, I should get lanolin as well as clean wool. I don’t exactly know what I’ll do with the lanolin – keep my skin nice? – but it can’t hurt to have it.
Sunday, December 2
Moonfall
Last night was only the second time I’ve seen the moon. This time it was full.