Somewhere under Northgate
Y215
“Everything,” Sav said, “wants to connect.”
Aloysius looked up from where he’d been investigating a suspiciously-scented path—perhaps other rats?—and squeaked.
She picked up the rock she’d been looking at on the table—a broken piece of rubble fallen off one of the walls around her, uncannily smooth and luminous even in the flickering candlelight—and dropped it. Then she did it again. And again. “I mean, look at this rock. Dumb as—a rock.” She stifled a giggle at her own pun. Aloysius squeaked disapprovingly. “Even this dumb rock wants to go back to the bigger rock.” She stamped a foot to indicate the ground. “‘N I think—the bigger a thing is, the more we want to go to it. That’s why everything goes to the ground, ‘cause it’s the biggest thing around. And I dinna think ‘tis just physical things. I think it’s also bigger-than-physical things, and ideas, and stories. That’s why people have ideas like justice and punishment and hold them up as ideals. That’s why we live in cities and make nations and follow kings.”
Aloysius squeaked inquiringly and stood on his hind legs, straining upward and making a little hop. She looked down at him, laughed, and shook her head. “I dinna think it’s a conscious thing. Couldnae be, elsewise the rock wouldn’t go to the ground. And I didnae say it’s the strongest thing around—elsewise we’d be stuck t’ each other all the time. But it takes effort to move against it. To jump. To stand against the Swans.” Her voice faltered for a heartbeat. “To be alone.”
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