| THE LORELEI SIGNAL |
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| Written by Gerri Leen / Artwork by Lee Kuruganti |
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| Life Lesson |
Kura leaned back and stared at the glowing nothingness that surrounded her. It waited, ready for her to change it, to make
it something new and beautiful. Thinking of Suli, Kura remembered how her mentor often glared at her, and concentrated,
watching as the colorless space above her turned a dark orange.
She squinted -- yes, that was the color of Suli's annoyance. She added a touch of yellow for Suli's humor, then some dark
gray for the other angel's tendency to lecture. Freeing the colors, she let them blend as they wished.
"Kura?" Suli was annoyed again. "What are you doing?"
Kura just smiled. Suli was perfectly capable of seeing what she was doing. "I've painted you." Kura grinned at the angel
who had been in charge of her ever since she could remember. And she could remember a long way back.
Suli stared up at the colors. "Is that what I look like to you?"
"Not look. It's your personality, the way you make me do things I don't want to."
"It's beautiful." The way Suli said it, it sounded like beauty was a bad thing.
Kura blanked the colors out with a thought. The sky turned back to the shimmering whiteness. "I've annoyed you again."
"I gave you an assignment."
"I know."
"You're supposed to be watching over them."
"I am."
"From here?" Suli sighed. It was her frustrated sigh, the one that Kura often brought out. "You can barely see them from
here, much less watch over them."
Kura turned back to the sky. "I can see plenty from here." She let herself float, giving up control and drifting over the
white expanse.
Suli grabbed her, and the energy of the older angel gave her a small shock as they materialized on a busy city street in
front of an apartment building.
Kura looked up at the sky. It was a single uninspired blue with only a few white streaky clouds shot through it.
Suli pulled her face back down. "Concentrate on Martin and Kate. Get to know them."
"I do know them."
"What are their dreams, Kura? What is Martin afraid of? What does Kate want more than anything else? What makes them
cry?"
Kura looked away.
"You can't answer those questions if you don't get to know them." Suli gently turned her so that Kura had to look at her.
"And if you don't get to know them, then you can't reach them."
Kura nodded. She hated it when Suli got that look. The one that said she was so disappointed in her.
"I want you to stay with them." Suli held her hand to Kura's forehead. "You can't come back, not until I'm convinced
you're focusing on this the way you should."
Kura felt as if a heavy cloak had fallen over her. She tried to reach for the whiteness that was home and was blocked.
"Suli?"
"I can hear you if you need me, Kura. But you're stuck here. With them. I can't let you ignore your duty any longer."
Kura could feel her mouth set. She had never asked for this duty. And she'd tried to do what Suli said. Tried to watch over
these two humans. But watching them wasn't as interesting as coloring the sky, or floating in the peaceful blankness, or
being with Suli.
"Why?" she asked. "Why do we get no choice?"
Suli sighed. "There is choice. You do your duty, or you do not. But all choices have consequences. You know that. Or
you would if you spent more time with the humans." Suli looked at her face and laughed softly. "Oh, Kura, it's what we're
made for. Don't look so unhappy."
Kura turned away. She could see other angels on the street, began to perk up at the thought of some company.
Suli seemed to read her mind. "They can't see you, Kura. I've blocked you from their view. Now, pay attention to your
assignment."
Then she was gone, leaving Kura alone in a world full of humans.
#
At first, Kura could not settle down. She roamed Martin and Kate's apartment and walked the streets around their building.
She watched the sky and tried but failed to make it change color. She could affect nothing here. The other angels could
not see her, did not hear her when she called out to them, did not slow when she hurried to catch up. It was as Suli had
said; she was locked away from them.
Finally, when boredom overcame her, she started talking to Martin and Kate. Lecturing them at first, telling them it was
their fault she was stuck like this. They never seemed to hear her.
She gave up lecturing and began just to watch them. Began to learn all of the mundane moments that made up a human
life. Going to bed, getting up, the preparations to get ready for work. The endless routines, meetings, meals, running for
the buses that took them to their offices, Kura bouncing between the two of them, never sure what she was expected to
do, or even if she was expected to do anything at all.
She tried to learn from the other angels, walking behind them, listening while they talked. But no matter how long she
stayed and listened, Kura always felt as if she had come in midway during the conversation, and as if the point -- whatever
it was -- would not be reached until long after she returned to Martin and Kate.
But there were the colors. Colors that showed up in unexpected places. Sunset and sunrise shared orange and pink and
deepest teal. A rose in a nearby garden had more shades of red on one bloom than Kura had realized existed, while the next
bush erupted in a profusion of coral and yellow. The grass in the park was of a green so brilliant that Kura itched to add it
to the colors she used in her skies back home.
Colors she understood. But people? They were confusing. Especially her people. She did not understand their relationship.
Sometimes they laughed and hugged and held each other without talking. But more often they ignored each other, and a
chilly silence would descend on the apartment as Martin stayed up late and Kate went to bed early without saying
goodnight. Sometimes Kate would go several days without talking to him, and he'd spend the evenings in the living room,
reading long after she'd gone into the bedroom and shut the door.
Kate would often stand and stare at herself in the bathroom mirror, brushing her hair listlessly as she counted out the
strokes. Sometimes she cried when she lay in the dark trying to sleep, but Kura didn't know why. Other times she took a
pill out of a little amber bottle and swallowed it down. Then she would go right to sleep in the pale bedroom that always
struck Kura as cold and unwelcoming.
Much about Kate and Martin's life was pale. The living room was done in shades of wheat and ivory, and Martin seemed
to fade into them as he sat in his chair reading, his light hair, and eyes, and skin becoming one with the bland fabric. Kate,
too, seemed pale as she slept, her brown hair fanned across the pillow, her skin barely darker than the ivory sheets.
So much color in this world and so little of it seemed to reach her humans.
One night, Kura watched Kate get ready for bed, both of them counting as Kate pulled the brush through her hair. Kate
moved toward the mirror and the bathroom light fell on her hair in a way that Kura had never seen, as if it were the sun
falling on strands of pure metal. Kate's hair went from dull brown to a hundred different tones of copper and bronze and
gold. Kura leaned in closer, mesmerized by the details, wondering that there could be so much shimmering texture in
something so simple.
Suddenly curious, she walked out to where Martin sat reading and stared at his eyes. She'd thought they were green, but
as she peered closer she saw they were actually yellow, with small flecks of brown. A dark blue ring surrounded them. If
she moved back, the colors blended into green. If she moved closer, she could see all the different colors that made up the
green.
Was that what Suli had been trying to tell her?
She walked over to the window. The sun was setting; she could not see it from their apartment because of the buildings
blocking the view. But she could see the result. The sky was a brilliant orange, an orange that was slowly fading into gold.
It was an orange so like the color she'd created for Suli that Kura felt a pang of deep loneliness. She had never been away
from Suli before. Never been alone before.
She turned to Martin. He put his book down, sat staring at the bedroom door. His face was sad, his eyes tired. He rubbed
them for a moment, then picked the book up and went back to reading.
Kura walked over to him, laid her hand on his shoulder, trying to get some sense of his mood. Her hand slipped through
him; she could feel no buzz of energy as she could from those of her own kind.
"Why am I here?" Kura tuned back to the window, to the beautiful remote colors that were the only things she understood.
#
Kate was crying. Kura watched mesmerized as the tears turned Kate's eyes red, then she looked over at Martin. He was
not crying, but his face was as red as Kate's eyes. The long silences had come to an end. Now there was no silence
anywhere as they raged at each other. Angry words -- hurtful words -- came out in spurts as loud and raging as the
thunderstorm that roared outside.
Kura had been out in the storm when the fight started, had been walking, drawn almost helplessly into the glowing
maelstrom of brightness and sound. Every time the lighting had flashed, the sky had lit up, as if alive with fire and power.
She had looked down on a thunderstorm before, seen the flashes as lighting jumped through the clouds, making
pinkish-purple explosions as it moved gracefully from spot to spot. But it had never occurred to her to experience a storm
from below. To stand and wait for the lighting to strike down somewhere close. To almost, but not quite, feel the crackle
of power, to try to let the rumble of the thunder roar up through her. She could see it, and she could hear it, but she could
not feel the storm.
But she had felt the storm between her two humans when it raged up. She'd turned back to their building, saw the lights
were on in the apartment. She had been so mesmerized by the storm that she had not realized that Kate and Martin had
come home. She'd felt the strangest tug, as if she was being summoned and had decided not to resist, turning her back on
the lightning and hurrying to the apartment. She'd found them like this in their cold bedroom. Martin fuming, Kate crying.
Both of them yelling cruel things at each other.
"What is wrong with you two?" Kura paced between them, wondering why all they could do was yell. Then later, when
they fell into a hurt silence, she couldn't understand why all they could do was stare at each other angrily.
Kura walked to Martin, touched him on the shoulder, trying not to mind when her fingers went through him. She wanted
to help him. Help them both. "Martin, are there no words that could make this better? You read words all the time. Can't
you think of something to say to her?"
She moved to Kate. Tried to touch the hair that had so mesmerized her. "Can't you see he's hurting, too? As much as you
are."
Martin turned, walked out, went back to the living room and sat down. He rubbed at his eyes hard with his knuckles. A
strange sigh escaped him. Kura could almost feel his pain. She moved closer to him. "It's okay." The need to help him
welled up in her again. She reached for his hand; her fingers fell through him. "Martin."
The bedroom door opened, and Kate came out. She and Martin stared at each other for a long time.
"It's all right. You love each other. It's all right." Kura clenched her fingers, willing them to hear her.
With a broken sob, Kate knelt in front of Martin, burying her face in his lap and crying. He pulled her up, holding her,
murmuring to her.
Kura watched entranced. Martin's hands were shaking, his eyes filled with tears as he told Kate it was going to be all right.
That they were going to be all right.
Kura felt a sense of relief fill her. They were going to be okay.
Then she frowned. There was so much here she didn't understand. Thunder crashed outside, and she saw Kate jump.
Fear. She did not understand that. Or sadness. What was this sadness between them? Why did Martin always look so
miserable? Why did Kate cry and shut him out?
Kura took a step back, turned away from the couple. Why would a human choose to shut someone away from her when
he held the answer to her pain? Kura had watched Kate close down on Martin. Watched him as he sat alone reading. He
would have rather been with his wife. The way he rubbed at his eyes, as if he could work out the frustration, was a sign
of his loneliness. Kura had known this. Why hadn't they?
And had she helped them at all? Or had they made up on their own, and would they break apart again soon, with Kura as
their silent witness?
Kate rose, pulled Martin up, and drew him into the bedroom.
Kura let them go, turning away, lost in thought. She walked out of their apartment, stood in the hallway, listening to the
faint sounds of life from the other units in the building. She walked into the apartment across the hall. A young woman sat
crying as if her heart was broken. Her dog was pressed against her, staring up at her as if he could make her feel better
through his love and will alone. The woman's angel knelt on the couch, his arms thrown around her, murmuring, "It will
be okay. You will be all right."
Kura whispered in his ear. "Do we do any good at all? Can she even hear you?"
The dog looked up, his eyes meeting hers. She almost gasped at the feeling, the joy of finally being seen. The dog whined
and the other angel turned sharply, as if expecting to see one of his kind. He frowned, looked back at the dog, who had
not taken his eyes off Kura. He reached out, his hand almost touching Kura's cheek, but then the woman sobbed and he
turned to her, mystery forgotten, or at least put aside in the face of his charge's pain.
Kura backed away. Why had Suli left her alone here? She could not even ask another of her kind what she was supposed
to be doing, how she was supposed to help. It was frustrating. And it made her feel weak and small and useless.
Was she supposed to stay here forever, unsure if she could even reach them?
#
Martin smiled more now. He and Kate did not seem like such strangers. They treated each other gently, tenderly. With
care. Kura was not sure what had triggered the storm between them, but she was relieved that the chilliness in their
relationship seemed to be over.
Even the pale bedroom did not seem so cold, with the sounds of their laughter ringing out in the morning, the sound of
their passion filling the room at other times. The bland living room was filled with the crimson of the roses Martin brought
Kate, or the pink of tulips that Kate got for him on a whim one day.
Kura didn't have to bounce between them as often because they were together so much more. Holding hands with a
sheepish grin as they walked down the street, smiling at each other as they woke up in the morning. Martin's bookmark
didn't move very much, and Kate's pills stayed in the little amber bottle.
Kura relaxed as they seemed to forge a new path, established new patterns for how they treated each other. She found
herself smiling more even waving at the angels she knew couldn't see her.
As she followed Martin down the street, the sky seemed particularly brilliant, a shade of deep, clear blue. She wondered
why he had left work early and was curious where he was going.
He jumped on a bus, rode it across town. Kura watched the people on the bus, took note of how their complexions were
all different. This one had skin the color of the coffee Kate lightened with milk, that one a milky beige tone with
honey-gold freckles running across the nose not unlike the flax and wheat chair that neither Kate nor Martin liked to sit in.
Everyone so different, so complex. She lost herself in examining each of the passengers, taking for granted that the few
angels on the bus would not see her.
Then she studied one of the angels. Her skin seemed drab and lifeless after the myriad variations of the humans. Kura
turned back to the humans, looking deep into their eyes, learning all the ways they could be brown or hazel or gray. She
was so immersed in her study that she almost missed Martin getting off the bus.
He hurried across the street, into a car dealership. He talked to another man, then walked out with him to a little yellow
car, one similar to a car he had pointed out to Kate. They'd seen an advertisement for it on television. The car was rounded
and compact. In the advertisement, it was driven though mountains and on the beach and through a congested city street.
Kura walked over to the car, laid her hands on the metal, admiring the bright lemon color. A chill spread over her, and she
pulled her hands away quickly.
"Martin," she called out loudly, as if he could hear her. "Don't buy this car."
He was filling out paperwork, talking to the salesman. He didn't put down the pen.
She hurried over to him, tried to stop him from signing his name. Her actions were as ineffectual as ever. She leaned in
close and whispered, "Martin, do not buy this car."
He shook the man's hand. Then he waited as the salesman processed his order and handed him the keys.
"Don't, Martin," she said as he stuck the key in the lock. "It's not too late. Just give him back the keys."
She thought he hesitated, but then he smiled widely and opened the door and sat down. He pulled into traffic and drove to
the apartment, calling Kate from the car and telling her to come down and see what he'd got them.
"No, Martin. Just park the car and go upstairs." Kura tried to settle down in the back seat but every cell in her body
seemed to be crawling with a strange energy.
Kate opened the door, squealed with delight as she hugged Martin.
"Please, Kate. Tell him it's late. Tell him it's time to go to bed."
But Kate nodded when he asked her if she wanted to go for a drive.
Martin drove through the city, and Kura tensed every time they went through an intersection. She didn't know why she
expected trouble, because she was unsure where the trouble would come from. But she knew what she felt. She felt dread.
The city fell behind them and soon they were on the expressway. The car moved gently over the smooth surface, and
Kura began to relax. She was new at this. Maybe she was just being silly.
Martin turned off the highway, exiting onto a smaller road that took them through an area that was surprisingly rural. Kura
had never been this far out of the city. The road was winding and narrow, the car's headlights provided the only
illumination.
She looked out at the darkness. It seemed to stream past them like water in a black river. She began to grow tense again.
Then it started to rain. Kura closed her eyes, began a litany, willing it to reach Martin's brain. "Slow down, slow down,
slow down."
He didn't slow down. The car hugged the road, and he smiled as he steered it around the curves. He hit the high-beam
lights; the road was lit up before them. The road -- and the deer that stood as if hypnotized by the intense brightness.
Kate screamed. Martin slammed his foot on the brake. If he had been going slower, Kura thought. If only he'd been going
slower.
He jerked the wheel, let up on the brake as if he could get around the deer. There was the sound of rubber slipping on
damp pavement; then the car began to spin. He tried to correct, his braking only made it worse.
Kate screamed. She grabbed for something, anything to hold onto.
The car hit the deer, the impact sending them spinning into the oncoming lane. Bright lights lit up the inside of the car, then
a blasting horn filled the night. Kura looked up and saw the truck bearing down on them.
She grabbed Martin, reached for Kate, but her hands went through them as it always did. "No!" she screamed, as the small
car smashed into the truck.
There was a terrible twisting shriek of metal shearing away from other metal. The car crumpled in on itself, then on
Martin and Kate.
Their souls were gone in an instant, leaving behind shattered husks. Kura willed herself out of the car, out of the hot,
melting mess of tissue and steel.
The truck driver was climbing out of his cab. He looked stricken, tried to pry open the door of the car but there was
nothing to grab onto. He looked inside and fell to his knees, crying, throwing up.
At his ear, an angel was whispering, "This wasn't your fault. This wasn't your fault."
At the side of the road, the deer struggled to get up, its back legs refusing to work.
Kura tried to turn away but was unable to tear her gaze from the destruction.
"Kura?" Suli's voice was unusually gentle.
"You made me care about them." At Suli's nod, Kura said, "Look at this...this...mess." Kura turned away.
"Yes, this kind of thing happens."
Kura shot her an incredulous look. "This kind of thing?"
"They're mortal, Kura. They die. Sometimes horribly." Suli shook her head. "And they don't always listen when we try to
help them."
"They didn't even hear me! This is pointless. Why do we do this? What can we possibly accomplish?" Kura backed away.
"We watch. And we talk endlessly to them, but no one is listening. No one at all."
"That's not true. Sometimes, we get through. In those rare moments when their souls are open to us, when their minds are
receptive, that's when we get through to them. But you have to know them well enough to recognize when they're ready.
You have to understand them so you know how to reach them." Suli touched her arm. "You can do it."
Kura laughed. It was a bitter, empty sound. "I did do it. And look at what is left." She turned away from the blood and
gore. "I won't do it again." She walked away, ignoring Suli's calls, ignoring everything but the need to get as far away
from the wreck as possible and to never care about anything human again.
#
The sky glowed icy pink mixed with twilight blue. Kura added more red, changing the pink to fuchsia, then to crimson.
She lightened the blue, taking it from sky to pale, ending up with a color barely more than white. Then she set the mixture
into motion above her and lay back to watch the colors blend together then split apart again.
"Beautiful." Suli sat down next to her. "But not something you can hide in."
"You used to like my skies." Kura didn't look at her and ignored Suli's touch on her arm.
The buzz of energy grew as Suli became frustrated.
Kura pulled away. "I know you're disappointed in me."
Suli sighed and paused before she answered. "You can't pretend that they didn't move you."
"What if they did? They're human. Not like us." Kura glared at the sky, thought of the crash, of Martin and Kate lying
broken. The yellow of their little car crushed into tangled gray metal streaked with blood. The sky began to change, the
crimson growing richer, the white changing to silver and burnt gray and a bright lemon yellow that mixed with the red.
Kura clamped down on what she was feeling, willed the sky to a blank, cold white -- the same color as everything else
around her. It had no heart, nothing but potential. It was stuck in that place forever, but it would never be cut off too
soon. It would never die.
"You need to accept the pain and let it go, Kura." When Kura didn't answer, Suli switched to a more businesslike tone.
"I've got a new assignment for you."
"I told you. I won't do it again."
"You've had enough time. You don't have a choice." There was an odd tone in Suli's voice, a steel that had never been
there before. "Kura, I'm supposed to be impartial. I'm supposed to care about all my charges the same. But you have
always been my favorite. Maybe I've spoiled you? Maybe this is my fault for letting you off too easily?"
Kura turned, studied her mentor. "Well, do it again. Let me off now. Look the other way and leave me alone."
"I can't do that." Suli stood up. She looked down at Kura with infinite love in her eyes. Then her voice rang out, echoing
across the great white expanse and breaking down the boundaries between Kura's space and those of the other angels so
that all could hear her when she asked, "Kura, will you do your duty?"
"No," she whispered.
"Very well," Suli said.
Sadness drenched the words, and Kura could practically taste the pain in her mentor's energy. Energy that seemed to
intensify, encompassing them both.
The shining white area around them began to grow dull. Kura felt a heaviness fill her, a terrible weight holding her down,
pulling her out of the place she'd always known. "What's happening?"
"Shhh. I will be with you." Suli seemed to be very far away.
Then there was only darkness, a terrible tube of cramping blackness. Kura screamed.
There was a crash, a wrenching impact. Kura was filled with panic and the need to keep moving, to get out. She was
trapped, felt constricted. Something pushed her forward, and she didn't fight it. Fell down. Fell out.
Blinding light appeared all around her. For a second, she thought she was home again. But then she blinked and felt her
eyes grow full of some strange substance. She blinked again and the substance leaked from her eyes, running down her
cheeks.
Tears?
Suli stood near her, frighteningly large. "I am here, Kura. I will be with you."
"Suli?" Kura cried out, and flinched as her words were swallowed up by a harsh sound that filled her ears. She tried to get
up, could feel her arms and legs moving, but she lacked coordination. She could not even push herself up to a sitting
position.
"What is happening?" she asked. The question was clear in her mind but came out only as another sharp cry.
Suli seemed to understand what she'd asked. "You closed down your heart." She stroked Kura's cheek. "So gifted. And so
cold. Flying free far above those you were supposed to care for. So afraid of pain that you let the first instance of it defeat
you." She pulled away. "We'll see if you can maintain that detachment from this vantage point."
A terrible fear filled Kura. Surely they would not be so cruel?
"What am I?" she whispered. The sound came out as a whimper.
"Human."
Panic filled Kura. She began to scream, heard the shrill wail of a baby and knew that it was her voice. "You can't do this. I
can't be human. I know too much. How it all works. I'll tell them. If you leave me here, I'll tell them." The wails became
more high-pitched as she raved.
Suli leaned down. "By the time you can form words, you won't remember it. Maybe bits and pieces. But not all of it. Not
enough to tell." She reached down, smiled gently as she kissed Kura on the forehead. "Remember how you painted the
sky? Use that talent. It's my gift to you." Her smile as she pulled away was grimly amused. "Artists often have tortured
lives, full of passion and tempests. What better way to know what it is to be human than through those things?"
"Suli!"
"I'll always watch over you. I promise. Listen for me." Suli began to fade.
"No! Don't leave me here." Kura screamed. Her cries filling the small room she was in.
Suli faded out even more, and suddenly another person, a human woman, appeared behind her, walking through the
ghostly angel to pick Kura up. "Come on, little one. Your mother needs to see you now that she's done all that work."
She handed Kura to another woman.
Kura screamed.
"Sweetheart. Shhh." The woman turned to someone behind her who Kura could not see. "She's beautiful. Isn't she
beautiful?"
A voice like Martin's, only deeper, more resonant answered, "Yes. She looks like you."
"I think she looks like you," the woman said, as she pulled Kura close.
Kura stopped screaming, lost in the overwhelming sensation of being held, the warmth of the woman's body, the
vibrations that came through the woman's chest as she soothed her, vibrations that seemed to fill every part of Kura's
body. Kura sobbed, buried her head awkwardly against the woman's chest and smelled the scent that belonged only to this
woman, a scent that immediately meant comfort. Safety. Kura relaxed, lulled by the warmth and the smell and the
incredible softness of the woman's touch on her skin.
"There, there." The woman kissed her on the forehead.
The action brought Kura out of her reverie, reminded her that Suli had just done the same thing. "Suli," she said, the sound
barely more than a mewl. "Don't leave me."
Suli's voice sounded in her mind. "She is your mother now, Kura." Suli seemed filled with a terrible sorrow, as if she was
being punished too.
Kura tried to call out for her, but her words were stopped by an enormous yawn. She tried to fight off the reality of the
physical world around her, tried to will the ceiling to change color as the sky had done in the only home she had ever
known.
The ceiling remained a dull white.
She could feel her soul integrating with her newborn body, could chart the progress as her personality imprinted onto this
helpless collection of hormones and synapses and instinct. "No."
But she knew it was too late. She was human. And she was tired. Sleep had her in its dark hold, and she could not get
away. Just as she would never be able to get away from this terrible body. Or from this life.
She fought sleep off for as long as she could. Finally, she gave in, letting go of consciousness and floating away, the
feeling akin to how she had floated under her crimson and white sky.
She slept. And as she slept, she dreamed. And her dreams were of a place and a woman she would not see again for a
very, very long time.
it something new and beautiful. Thinking of Suli, Kura remembered how her mentor often glared at her, and concentrated,
watching as the colorless space above her turned a dark orange.
She squinted -- yes, that was the color of Suli's annoyance. She added a touch of yellow for Suli's humor, then some dark
gray for the other angel's tendency to lecture. Freeing the colors, she let them blend as they wished.
"Kura?" Suli was annoyed again. "What are you doing?"
Kura just smiled. Suli was perfectly capable of seeing what she was doing. "I've painted you." Kura grinned at the angel
who had been in charge of her ever since she could remember. And she could remember a long way back.
Suli stared up at the colors. "Is that what I look like to you?"
"Not look. It's your personality, the way you make me do things I don't want to."
"It's beautiful." The way Suli said it, it sounded like beauty was a bad thing.
Kura blanked the colors out with a thought. The sky turned back to the shimmering whiteness. "I've annoyed you again."
"I gave you an assignment."
"I know."
"You're supposed to be watching over them."
"I am."
"From here?" Suli sighed. It was her frustrated sigh, the one that Kura often brought out. "You can barely see them from
here, much less watch over them."
Kura turned back to the sky. "I can see plenty from here." She let herself float, giving up control and drifting over the
white expanse.
Suli grabbed her, and the energy of the older angel gave her a small shock as they materialized on a busy city street in
front of an apartment building.
Kura looked up at the sky. It was a single uninspired blue with only a few white streaky clouds shot through it.
Suli pulled her face back down. "Concentrate on Martin and Kate. Get to know them."
"I do know them."
"What are their dreams, Kura? What is Martin afraid of? What does Kate want more than anything else? What makes them
cry?"
Kura looked away.
"You can't answer those questions if you don't get to know them." Suli gently turned her so that Kura had to look at her.
"And if you don't get to know them, then you can't reach them."
Kura nodded. She hated it when Suli got that look. The one that said she was so disappointed in her.
"I want you to stay with them." Suli held her hand to Kura's forehead. "You can't come back, not until I'm convinced
you're focusing on this the way you should."
Kura felt as if a heavy cloak had fallen over her. She tried to reach for the whiteness that was home and was blocked.
"Suli?"
"I can hear you if you need me, Kura. But you're stuck here. With them. I can't let you ignore your duty any longer."
Kura could feel her mouth set. She had never asked for this duty. And she'd tried to do what Suli said. Tried to watch over
these two humans. But watching them wasn't as interesting as coloring the sky, or floating in the peaceful blankness, or
being with Suli.
"Why?" she asked. "Why do we get no choice?"
Suli sighed. "There is choice. You do your duty, or you do not. But all choices have consequences. You know that. Or
you would if you spent more time with the humans." Suli looked at her face and laughed softly. "Oh, Kura, it's what we're
made for. Don't look so unhappy."
Kura turned away. She could see other angels on the street, began to perk up at the thought of some company.
Suli seemed to read her mind. "They can't see you, Kura. I've blocked you from their view. Now, pay attention to your
assignment."
Then she was gone, leaving Kura alone in a world full of humans.
#
At first, Kura could not settle down. She roamed Martin and Kate's apartment and walked the streets around their building.
She watched the sky and tried but failed to make it change color. She could affect nothing here. The other angels could
not see her, did not hear her when she called out to them, did not slow when she hurried to catch up. It was as Suli had
said; she was locked away from them.
Finally, when boredom overcame her, she started talking to Martin and Kate. Lecturing them at first, telling them it was
their fault she was stuck like this. They never seemed to hear her.
She gave up lecturing and began just to watch them. Began to learn all of the mundane moments that made up a human
life. Going to bed, getting up, the preparations to get ready for work. The endless routines, meetings, meals, running for
the buses that took them to their offices, Kura bouncing between the two of them, never sure what she was expected to
do, or even if she was expected to do anything at all.
She tried to learn from the other angels, walking behind them, listening while they talked. But no matter how long she
stayed and listened, Kura always felt as if she had come in midway during the conversation, and as if the point -- whatever
it was -- would not be reached until long after she returned to Martin and Kate.
But there were the colors. Colors that showed up in unexpected places. Sunset and sunrise shared orange and pink and
deepest teal. A rose in a nearby garden had more shades of red on one bloom than Kura had realized existed, while the next
bush erupted in a profusion of coral and yellow. The grass in the park was of a green so brilliant that Kura itched to add it
to the colors she used in her skies back home.
Colors she understood. But people? They were confusing. Especially her people. She did not understand their relationship.
Sometimes they laughed and hugged and held each other without talking. But more often they ignored each other, and a
chilly silence would descend on the apartment as Martin stayed up late and Kate went to bed early without saying
goodnight. Sometimes Kate would go several days without talking to him, and he'd spend the evenings in the living room,
reading long after she'd gone into the bedroom and shut the door.
Kate would often stand and stare at herself in the bathroom mirror, brushing her hair listlessly as she counted out the
strokes. Sometimes she cried when she lay in the dark trying to sleep, but Kura didn't know why. Other times she took a
pill out of a little amber bottle and swallowed it down. Then she would go right to sleep in the pale bedroom that always
struck Kura as cold and unwelcoming.
Much about Kate and Martin's life was pale. The living room was done in shades of wheat and ivory, and Martin seemed
to fade into them as he sat in his chair reading, his light hair, and eyes, and skin becoming one with the bland fabric. Kate,
too, seemed pale as she slept, her brown hair fanned across the pillow, her skin barely darker than the ivory sheets.
So much color in this world and so little of it seemed to reach her humans.
One night, Kura watched Kate get ready for bed, both of them counting as Kate pulled the brush through her hair. Kate
moved toward the mirror and the bathroom light fell on her hair in a way that Kura had never seen, as if it were the sun
falling on strands of pure metal. Kate's hair went from dull brown to a hundred different tones of copper and bronze and
gold. Kura leaned in closer, mesmerized by the details, wondering that there could be so much shimmering texture in
something so simple.
Suddenly curious, she walked out to where Martin sat reading and stared at his eyes. She'd thought they were green, but
as she peered closer she saw they were actually yellow, with small flecks of brown. A dark blue ring surrounded them. If
she moved back, the colors blended into green. If she moved closer, she could see all the different colors that made up the
green.
Was that what Suli had been trying to tell her?
She walked over to the window. The sun was setting; she could not see it from their apartment because of the buildings
blocking the view. But she could see the result. The sky was a brilliant orange, an orange that was slowly fading into gold.
It was an orange so like the color she'd created for Suli that Kura felt a pang of deep loneliness. She had never been away
from Suli before. Never been alone before.
She turned to Martin. He put his book down, sat staring at the bedroom door. His face was sad, his eyes tired. He rubbed
them for a moment, then picked the book up and went back to reading.
Kura walked over to him, laid her hand on his shoulder, trying to get some sense of his mood. Her hand slipped through
him; she could feel no buzz of energy as she could from those of her own kind.
"Why am I here?" Kura tuned back to the window, to the beautiful remote colors that were the only things she understood.
#
Kate was crying. Kura watched mesmerized as the tears turned Kate's eyes red, then she looked over at Martin. He was
not crying, but his face was as red as Kate's eyes. The long silences had come to an end. Now there was no silence
anywhere as they raged at each other. Angry words -- hurtful words -- came out in spurts as loud and raging as the
thunderstorm that roared outside.
Kura had been out in the storm when the fight started, had been walking, drawn almost helplessly into the glowing
maelstrom of brightness and sound. Every time the lighting had flashed, the sky had lit up, as if alive with fire and power.
She had looked down on a thunderstorm before, seen the flashes as lighting jumped through the clouds, making
pinkish-purple explosions as it moved gracefully from spot to spot. But it had never occurred to her to experience a storm
from below. To stand and wait for the lighting to strike down somewhere close. To almost, but not quite, feel the crackle
of power, to try to let the rumble of the thunder roar up through her. She could see it, and she could hear it, but she could
not feel the storm.
But she had felt the storm between her two humans when it raged up. She'd turned back to their building, saw the lights
were on in the apartment. She had been so mesmerized by the storm that she had not realized that Kate and Martin had
come home. She'd felt the strangest tug, as if she was being summoned and had decided not to resist, turning her back on
the lightning and hurrying to the apartment. She'd found them like this in their cold bedroom. Martin fuming, Kate crying.
Both of them yelling cruel things at each other.
"What is wrong with you two?" Kura paced between them, wondering why all they could do was yell. Then later, when
they fell into a hurt silence, she couldn't understand why all they could do was stare at each other angrily.
Kura walked to Martin, touched him on the shoulder, trying not to mind when her fingers went through him. She wanted
to help him. Help them both. "Martin, are there no words that could make this better? You read words all the time. Can't
you think of something to say to her?"
She moved to Kate. Tried to touch the hair that had so mesmerized her. "Can't you see he's hurting, too? As much as you
are."
Martin turned, walked out, went back to the living room and sat down. He rubbed at his eyes hard with his knuckles. A
strange sigh escaped him. Kura could almost feel his pain. She moved closer to him. "It's okay." The need to help him
welled up in her again. She reached for his hand; her fingers fell through him. "Martin."
The bedroom door opened, and Kate came out. She and Martin stared at each other for a long time.
"It's all right. You love each other. It's all right." Kura clenched her fingers, willing them to hear her.
With a broken sob, Kate knelt in front of Martin, burying her face in his lap and crying. He pulled her up, holding her,
murmuring to her.
Kura watched entranced. Martin's hands were shaking, his eyes filled with tears as he told Kate it was going to be all right.
That they were going to be all right.
Kura felt a sense of relief fill her. They were going to be okay.
Then she frowned. There was so much here she didn't understand. Thunder crashed outside, and she saw Kate jump.
Fear. She did not understand that. Or sadness. What was this sadness between them? Why did Martin always look so
miserable? Why did Kate cry and shut him out?
Kura took a step back, turned away from the couple. Why would a human choose to shut someone away from her when
he held the answer to her pain? Kura had watched Kate close down on Martin. Watched him as he sat alone reading. He
would have rather been with his wife. The way he rubbed at his eyes, as if he could work out the frustration, was a sign
of his loneliness. Kura had known this. Why hadn't they?
And had she helped them at all? Or had they made up on their own, and would they break apart again soon, with Kura as
their silent witness?
Kate rose, pulled Martin up, and drew him into the bedroom.
Kura let them go, turning away, lost in thought. She walked out of their apartment, stood in the hallway, listening to the
faint sounds of life from the other units in the building. She walked into the apartment across the hall. A young woman sat
crying as if her heart was broken. Her dog was pressed against her, staring up at her as if he could make her feel better
through his love and will alone. The woman's angel knelt on the couch, his arms thrown around her, murmuring, "It will
be okay. You will be all right."
Kura whispered in his ear. "Do we do any good at all? Can she even hear you?"
The dog looked up, his eyes meeting hers. She almost gasped at the feeling, the joy of finally being seen. The dog whined
and the other angel turned sharply, as if expecting to see one of his kind. He frowned, looked back at the dog, who had
not taken his eyes off Kura. He reached out, his hand almost touching Kura's cheek, but then the woman sobbed and he
turned to her, mystery forgotten, or at least put aside in the face of his charge's pain.
Kura backed away. Why had Suli left her alone here? She could not even ask another of her kind what she was supposed
to be doing, how she was supposed to help. It was frustrating. And it made her feel weak and small and useless.
Was she supposed to stay here forever, unsure if she could even reach them?
#
Martin smiled more now. He and Kate did not seem like such strangers. They treated each other gently, tenderly. With
care. Kura was not sure what had triggered the storm between them, but she was relieved that the chilliness in their
relationship seemed to be over.
Even the pale bedroom did not seem so cold, with the sounds of their laughter ringing out in the morning, the sound of
their passion filling the room at other times. The bland living room was filled with the crimson of the roses Martin brought
Kate, or the pink of tulips that Kate got for him on a whim one day.
Kura didn't have to bounce between them as often because they were together so much more. Holding hands with a
sheepish grin as they walked down the street, smiling at each other as they woke up in the morning. Martin's bookmark
didn't move very much, and Kate's pills stayed in the little amber bottle.
Kura relaxed as they seemed to forge a new path, established new patterns for how they treated each other. She found
herself smiling more even waving at the angels she knew couldn't see her.
As she followed Martin down the street, the sky seemed particularly brilliant, a shade of deep, clear blue. She wondered
why he had left work early and was curious where he was going.
He jumped on a bus, rode it across town. Kura watched the people on the bus, took note of how their complexions were
all different. This one had skin the color of the coffee Kate lightened with milk, that one a milky beige tone with
honey-gold freckles running across the nose not unlike the flax and wheat chair that neither Kate nor Martin liked to sit in.
Everyone so different, so complex. She lost herself in examining each of the passengers, taking for granted that the few
angels on the bus would not see her.
Then she studied one of the angels. Her skin seemed drab and lifeless after the myriad variations of the humans. Kura
turned back to the humans, looking deep into their eyes, learning all the ways they could be brown or hazel or gray. She
was so immersed in her study that she almost missed Martin getting off the bus.
He hurried across the street, into a car dealership. He talked to another man, then walked out with him to a little yellow
car, one similar to a car he had pointed out to Kate. They'd seen an advertisement for it on television. The car was rounded
and compact. In the advertisement, it was driven though mountains and on the beach and through a congested city street.
Kura walked over to the car, laid her hands on the metal, admiring the bright lemon color. A chill spread over her, and she
pulled her hands away quickly.
"Martin," she called out loudly, as if he could hear her. "Don't buy this car."
He was filling out paperwork, talking to the salesman. He didn't put down the pen.
She hurried over to him, tried to stop him from signing his name. Her actions were as ineffectual as ever. She leaned in
close and whispered, "Martin, do not buy this car."
He shook the man's hand. Then he waited as the salesman processed his order and handed him the keys.
"Don't, Martin," she said as he stuck the key in the lock. "It's not too late. Just give him back the keys."
She thought he hesitated, but then he smiled widely and opened the door and sat down. He pulled into traffic and drove to
the apartment, calling Kate from the car and telling her to come down and see what he'd got them.
"No, Martin. Just park the car and go upstairs." Kura tried to settle down in the back seat but every cell in her body
seemed to be crawling with a strange energy.
Kate opened the door, squealed with delight as she hugged Martin.
"Please, Kate. Tell him it's late. Tell him it's time to go to bed."
But Kate nodded when he asked her if she wanted to go for a drive.
Martin drove through the city, and Kura tensed every time they went through an intersection. She didn't know why she
expected trouble, because she was unsure where the trouble would come from. But she knew what she felt. She felt dread.
The city fell behind them and soon they were on the expressway. The car moved gently over the smooth surface, and
Kura began to relax. She was new at this. Maybe she was just being silly.
Martin turned off the highway, exiting onto a smaller road that took them through an area that was surprisingly rural. Kura
had never been this far out of the city. The road was winding and narrow, the car's headlights provided the only
illumination.
She looked out at the darkness. It seemed to stream past them like water in a black river. She began to grow tense again.
Then it started to rain. Kura closed her eyes, began a litany, willing it to reach Martin's brain. "Slow down, slow down,
slow down."
He didn't slow down. The car hugged the road, and he smiled as he steered it around the curves. He hit the high-beam
lights; the road was lit up before them. The road -- and the deer that stood as if hypnotized by the intense brightness.
Kate screamed. Martin slammed his foot on the brake. If he had been going slower, Kura thought. If only he'd been going
slower.
He jerked the wheel, let up on the brake as if he could get around the deer. There was the sound of rubber slipping on
damp pavement; then the car began to spin. He tried to correct, his braking only made it worse.
Kate screamed. She grabbed for something, anything to hold onto.
The car hit the deer, the impact sending them spinning into the oncoming lane. Bright lights lit up the inside of the car, then
a blasting horn filled the night. Kura looked up and saw the truck bearing down on them.
She grabbed Martin, reached for Kate, but her hands went through them as it always did. "No!" she screamed, as the small
car smashed into the truck.
There was a terrible twisting shriek of metal shearing away from other metal. The car crumpled in on itself, then on
Martin and Kate.
Their souls were gone in an instant, leaving behind shattered husks. Kura willed herself out of the car, out of the hot,
melting mess of tissue and steel.
The truck driver was climbing out of his cab. He looked stricken, tried to pry open the door of the car but there was
nothing to grab onto. He looked inside and fell to his knees, crying, throwing up.
At his ear, an angel was whispering, "This wasn't your fault. This wasn't your fault."
At the side of the road, the deer struggled to get up, its back legs refusing to work.
Kura tried to turn away but was unable to tear her gaze from the destruction.
"Kura?" Suli's voice was unusually gentle.
"You made me care about them." At Suli's nod, Kura said, "Look at this...this...mess." Kura turned away.
"Yes, this kind of thing happens."
Kura shot her an incredulous look. "This kind of thing?"
"They're mortal, Kura. They die. Sometimes horribly." Suli shook her head. "And they don't always listen when we try to
help them."
"They didn't even hear me! This is pointless. Why do we do this? What can we possibly accomplish?" Kura backed away.
"We watch. And we talk endlessly to them, but no one is listening. No one at all."
"That's not true. Sometimes, we get through. In those rare moments when their souls are open to us, when their minds are
receptive, that's when we get through to them. But you have to know them well enough to recognize when they're ready.
You have to understand them so you know how to reach them." Suli touched her arm. "You can do it."
Kura laughed. It was a bitter, empty sound. "I did do it. And look at what is left." She turned away from the blood and
gore. "I won't do it again." She walked away, ignoring Suli's calls, ignoring everything but the need to get as far away
from the wreck as possible and to never care about anything human again.
#
The sky glowed icy pink mixed with twilight blue. Kura added more red, changing the pink to fuchsia, then to crimson.
She lightened the blue, taking it from sky to pale, ending up with a color barely more than white. Then she set the mixture
into motion above her and lay back to watch the colors blend together then split apart again.
"Beautiful." Suli sat down next to her. "But not something you can hide in."
"You used to like my skies." Kura didn't look at her and ignored Suli's touch on her arm.
The buzz of energy grew as Suli became frustrated.
Kura pulled away. "I know you're disappointed in me."
Suli sighed and paused before she answered. "You can't pretend that they didn't move you."
"What if they did? They're human. Not like us." Kura glared at the sky, thought of the crash, of Martin and Kate lying
broken. The yellow of their little car crushed into tangled gray metal streaked with blood. The sky began to change, the
crimson growing richer, the white changing to silver and burnt gray and a bright lemon yellow that mixed with the red.
Kura clamped down on what she was feeling, willed the sky to a blank, cold white -- the same color as everything else
around her. It had no heart, nothing but potential. It was stuck in that place forever, but it would never be cut off too
soon. It would never die.
"You need to accept the pain and let it go, Kura." When Kura didn't answer, Suli switched to a more businesslike tone.
"I've got a new assignment for you."
"I told you. I won't do it again."
"You've had enough time. You don't have a choice." There was an odd tone in Suli's voice, a steel that had never been
there before. "Kura, I'm supposed to be impartial. I'm supposed to care about all my charges the same. But you have
always been my favorite. Maybe I've spoiled you? Maybe this is my fault for letting you off too easily?"
Kura turned, studied her mentor. "Well, do it again. Let me off now. Look the other way and leave me alone."
"I can't do that." Suli stood up. She looked down at Kura with infinite love in her eyes. Then her voice rang out, echoing
across the great white expanse and breaking down the boundaries between Kura's space and those of the other angels so
that all could hear her when she asked, "Kura, will you do your duty?"
"No," she whispered.
"Very well," Suli said.
Sadness drenched the words, and Kura could practically taste the pain in her mentor's energy. Energy that seemed to
intensify, encompassing them both.
The shining white area around them began to grow dull. Kura felt a heaviness fill her, a terrible weight holding her down,
pulling her out of the place she'd always known. "What's happening?"
"Shhh. I will be with you." Suli seemed to be very far away.
Then there was only darkness, a terrible tube of cramping blackness. Kura screamed.
There was a crash, a wrenching impact. Kura was filled with panic and the need to keep moving, to get out. She was
trapped, felt constricted. Something pushed her forward, and she didn't fight it. Fell down. Fell out.
Blinding light appeared all around her. For a second, she thought she was home again. But then she blinked and felt her
eyes grow full of some strange substance. She blinked again and the substance leaked from her eyes, running down her
cheeks.
Tears?
Suli stood near her, frighteningly large. "I am here, Kura. I will be with you."
"Suli?" Kura cried out, and flinched as her words were swallowed up by a harsh sound that filled her ears. She tried to get
up, could feel her arms and legs moving, but she lacked coordination. She could not even push herself up to a sitting
position.
"What is happening?" she asked. The question was clear in her mind but came out only as another sharp cry.
Suli seemed to understand what she'd asked. "You closed down your heart." She stroked Kura's cheek. "So gifted. And so
cold. Flying free far above those you were supposed to care for. So afraid of pain that you let the first instance of it defeat
you." She pulled away. "We'll see if you can maintain that detachment from this vantage point."
A terrible fear filled Kura. Surely they would not be so cruel?
"What am I?" she whispered. The sound came out as a whimper.
"Human."
Panic filled Kura. She began to scream, heard the shrill wail of a baby and knew that it was her voice. "You can't do this. I
can't be human. I know too much. How it all works. I'll tell them. If you leave me here, I'll tell them." The wails became
more high-pitched as she raved.
Suli leaned down. "By the time you can form words, you won't remember it. Maybe bits and pieces. But not all of it. Not
enough to tell." She reached down, smiled gently as she kissed Kura on the forehead. "Remember how you painted the
sky? Use that talent. It's my gift to you." Her smile as she pulled away was grimly amused. "Artists often have tortured
lives, full of passion and tempests. What better way to know what it is to be human than through those things?"
"Suli!"
"I'll always watch over you. I promise. Listen for me." Suli began to fade.
"No! Don't leave me here." Kura screamed. Her cries filling the small room she was in.
Suli faded out even more, and suddenly another person, a human woman, appeared behind her, walking through the
ghostly angel to pick Kura up. "Come on, little one. Your mother needs to see you now that she's done all that work."
She handed Kura to another woman.
Kura screamed.
"Sweetheart. Shhh." The woman turned to someone behind her who Kura could not see. "She's beautiful. Isn't she
beautiful?"
A voice like Martin's, only deeper, more resonant answered, "Yes. She looks like you."
"I think she looks like you," the woman said, as she pulled Kura close.
Kura stopped screaming, lost in the overwhelming sensation of being held, the warmth of the woman's body, the
vibrations that came through the woman's chest as she soothed her, vibrations that seemed to fill every part of Kura's
body. Kura sobbed, buried her head awkwardly against the woman's chest and smelled the scent that belonged only to this
woman, a scent that immediately meant comfort. Safety. Kura relaxed, lulled by the warmth and the smell and the
incredible softness of the woman's touch on her skin.
"There, there." The woman kissed her on the forehead.
The action brought Kura out of her reverie, reminded her that Suli had just done the same thing. "Suli," she said, the sound
barely more than a mewl. "Don't leave me."
Suli's voice sounded in her mind. "She is your mother now, Kura." Suli seemed filled with a terrible sorrow, as if she was
being punished too.
Kura tried to call out for her, but her words were stopped by an enormous yawn. She tried to fight off the reality of the
physical world around her, tried to will the ceiling to change color as the sky had done in the only home she had ever
known.
The ceiling remained a dull white.
She could feel her soul integrating with her newborn body, could chart the progress as her personality imprinted onto this
helpless collection of hormones and synapses and instinct. "No."
But she knew it was too late. She was human. And she was tired. Sleep had her in its dark hold, and she could not get
away. Just as she would never be able to get away from this terrible body. Or from this life.
She fought sleep off for as long as she could. Finally, she gave in, letting go of consciousness and floating away, the
feeling akin to how she had floated under her crimson and white sky.
She slept. And as she slept, she dreamed. And her dreams were of a place and a woman she would not see again for a
very, very long time.
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