Parto 0: La Nesto. 03: La Mesaĝo

The last night before La Flugo was all about anticipating La Granda Ekstero.

The ones leaving planned their future lives after they became adults in a few hours, and the ones staying talked with a mixture of excitement and undisguised envy, imagining exaggerated stories of the outside world. The conversations were all about it. The world. And how it was so big, almost infinite.

But to me, the world had shrunk to the size of the engraved piece of wood tucked inside my pocket. Kimiti’s message. The words were there, but they refused to connect, to form a coherent thought.

Was it a code? A location? A metaphor? Nothing clicked. Unlike the familiar patterns of the memory matrix of La Konkurso, this felt insignificant, like a single piece from a gigantic puzzle.

I went through connections to any of the clues I discovered before and recorded in my sketchbook. I didn’t need to look at it since I could remember everything inside. It could stay hidden, I wrote it to be a record for whoever came after.

But my photographic memory didn’t help, because the message didn’t connect to anything. Not to any suspicious location, not to the hidden cameras, not to the walls of La Nesto. And not to the three circles.

I tried replacing letters with numbers based on their alphabetical order. I shifted the letters like a Caesar cipher. Even arranging the words into different orders, hoping to stumble upon a hidden phrase, returned nothing. Only gibberish.

Vento ne sonas, silento portas mesaĝon.
Pensu kiel papili, PROFUNDA maro kaŝas.
SES×SES
-Kimiti

The phrases themselves were nonsense. Wind made sounds, and how would silence carry a message? It wasn’t better if I thought of it as a metaphor, because if the wind was silent, and the silence carried a message, and I was supposed to be the butterfly… In that case I would be the message, right? What message, then? And what did the deep sea hide, anyway?

The “SIX×SIX” was the most perplexing of all. Was it a code? A grid coordinate? A date? Thirty-six? Thirty-six what? Days? Hours?

The first rays of the morning sun filtered through the window of my room, casting long shadows across the smooth, white walls. My last morning in La Nesto. I felt a surge of panic. Time was running out.

Desperate, I tried a different approach. I went to find Kanako, hoping that a fresh perspective might offer some insight. They were in the common area of our ĉelo, already buzzing with energy, preparing for the day.

“Kanako,” I began, trying to sound casual, “I came up with this weird riddle. See if you can figure it out.”

Kanako’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, a riddle! I’m an expert! Okay, okay, shoot!”

“The wind doesn't sound,” I began, paraphrasing the first part of Kimiti’s message. “And silence carries a message.”

Kanako frowned, tapping a finger to their chin. “Hmm… ‘The wind doesn’t sound.’ That’s interesting. So, something that doesn’t make noise is carrying a message. That’s a good start.” They paused, thinking. “Okay, so, what doesn’t make noise but can carry things? Maybe… a thought? Or… a dream?”

“Think like a butterfly,” I continued.

“A butterfly…” Kanako tilted their head. “Butterflies are light, they float… they’re carried by the wind! So maybe the wind is… an idea? A feeling? I feel like a dream still fits, too.”

“The sea is deep,” I finished.

Kanako’s eyes widened. “Ooh, that changes everything! The sea is deep… it’s vast, it holds secrets… So, maybe the answer is… a memory? Because memories can be silent, and that silence can contain something hidden. Hidden in a dark and deep place, like the sea!”

“Memory,” I repeated. It was a suitable answer, a clever one. But it left me in the same predicament as before. Whose memory? A memory about what?

“See? I told you I was good at riddles!” Kanako beamed.

I forced a smile. “Yeah. You’re good.”

Again, I wished I had told them about my nightmare, my findings, my fears. But now it was way too late. I would either face incredulity again, or I would just worry Kanako and, knowing them, they would try something reckless.

Instead, after a quick breakfast, I returned to my room, retrieved the carved message and a small piece of paper. On the paper, I wrote a brief note.

I couldn’t decipher this. Maybe you can. I found it near the wall, by the stream.

After tying the note to a small piece of wood, I went to a tall tree behind Ĉelo Kvar, one of the blind spots from my map. I threw the wood piece up the tree, using the string to position it against a sturdy limb. Then I tied a rock to the other end of the string, securing the makeshift package.

I looked at it, wishing that Kanako would find it, that they could finish my investigation. A spark of hope ignited within me. It was a feeling I hadn’t known for what felt like an eternity, and a smile graced my lips.

As I turned to leave, I felt like I was being watched. I glanced around, but saw nothing. The feeling persisted, though, a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. It reminded me of the time I was exploring the ventilation system, drawn by the constant hum that permeated La Nesto. An instruisto caught me and I had to lie about my reasons for being there, claiming I was just looking for a lost toy.

Could that be what Kimiti meant? The ventilation system ran throughout La Nesto, a hidden network, a sea, beneath the surface. Perhaps “DEEP” referred to the depths of the system, the parts I hadn’t been able to reach that time.

The excitement about La Flugo, and the increased activity it entailed, provided the perfect cover. The preparations would keep the instruistoj busy and distracted. It was a risk, but it was the only lead I had left.

I made my way to the nearest access panel, a small metal grate near the edge of the garden. I pried it open, slipped inside, and crawled through the narrow, dusty tunnels. The hum of the ventilation system was louder here, a constant drone that made my bones vibrate.

I navigated through the maze of ducts, following the mental map of my previous exploration. I arrived at the junction where I was caught last time and proceeded further into the system. Most of the new routes took me back to charted territory, but I kept going, pushing myself further, until I found the passage that lead to an area which would be under the elevator in the middle of La Kerno.

Adrenaline filled my body. This had to be it. This had to be the answer. But then… A dead end. The space beyond was too small for me to squeeze through.

Disappointment crashed over me. I tried to force myself in, even though I knew, with a sickening certainty, that I wouldn’t fit.

While I was crawling back, I heard my name being called, the sound echoing through the ventilation system. “Arakil! Arakil, where are you? We need you in La Kerno!” It was my instruisto’s voice. They wanted me to help with the La Flugo preparations.

My stomach twisted into a painful knot. The message, the ventilation system, Kimiti… it had all led to nothing.

I scrambled back through the tunnel, replacing the grate as quickly as I could. I brushed the dust off my clothes and hurried back towards La Kerno.

The festive sounds of preparation grew louder with every step, a stark reminder of the few moments I had left.

There was no more time. And I had failed.