Billions of Ways Elizabeth O’Brien

BILLIONS OF WAYS

ELIZABETH O’BRIEN

My sister, Sil, she can frazzle me like nobody else: whining how the comet shimmer tails are blinding, or my corona’s too too hot. She thinks the ones on Blue love her better than me, ‘cause she’s cool silver and (to hear her) that’s superior to hot hot gold.

I’m like fre, I say to her, which those little ones knows is a big deal; they danced and threw their hands up when they frst got a blaze going to roast on. So let it go, little girl, let it go.

She says she’s made of lightning, but come on, when do you hear the little ones thrill over lightning? Tey screech like dustfelds and dive for cover and damned if they shouldn’t; one good crackle burns them to bits. She frazzles me good, little Silver; and you want to know the truth, it’s just as much her fault what happened as mine.

Pop used to say, Let it go, be nice to her. He’d remind me that she’s the little one.

And I know he’s right, and I try. Oh, do I try. Sometimes I can tune her out; I like to watch the ones on Blue, the way they swarm the green and slipper the blue just at the edges. Funny to hear them fgure things out; so much they fgure so wrong. Tey think Pop made their oh-so-blue Rock all at once. Ha! Tat’s not how it happened, things fying from Pop’s hands fully formed, no! He mashed out a hunk of warm rock and then brewed a thick stew to pour on it, and he said to me and Sil, You keep an eye.

Lef Sil and I to light up the Blue: Sil on one side and me on the other, and the Blue spinning slow in between us. Ten of he went mashing out more lumpy rocks, saying, this one I called Red, this one I call Purple, and so on. He swirled gassy trails and sped of to start new galaxies, with this one not even done yet. He’s been gone since—who knows where—leaving us alone in the empty sky. For the longest time it was just me and Sil and

rocks and dust and gas and nothing doing. We used to toss rocks addy-up over Blue to pass the time.

Ten Sil said, Look! Te stew down there’s moving!

Sure enough, when I looked real hard I saw the soup shifing and bubbling, and then that’s when things started to happen. Bits of pokey green sprung up, little toots of gasses, and bitty crawly things started coming out of the broth. Pop knew what he was doing, of course, but it took a long awful time getting going!

So fnally we got scuttle-things big and bigger; they were a hoot, all crawling and eating each other. But one slip of a rock and Foom! Tey all die right out, and were we ever sad to see them go. Won’t see us chuck rocks around the Blue anymore, cause it’s a long nothing again, Blue going round slow as death, and nothing to do but shine and keep an eye.

Finally green things come again; I can’t tell you how glad we were for those tender shoots of green. Time went by, went by, and there were little things crawly and fying, and we just watch them come, me and Sil, near scared to move.

So there we are, and now the Blue has little ones and milkers and grasses and whippers. So many things. It keeps getting better, everyone killing and eating and working all hours everyday. And we light the sky every hour, Sil on one side and me on the other, the Blue spinning slow in between.

But Sil’s downright fractious these last thousand years, pouting why’s Pop gone so long, and how come we don’t have rings like the Big Ringed Rock. Wouldn’t Sil just love rings on her, she says. Not enough she’s silver like lightning.

Tell you, it’s enough to frazzle anybody.

Tat’s why I did what I did; I’m watching them haul rocks on Blue when here comes Sil saying, Look at them, doing whatever they please and no order to it. If I had rings I’d rule them all.

Nonsense, I say, Pop rules us all and you know it.

Him, she pouts, Where’s he been?

Hush, I say, Hush up and keep an eye like he told us.

Keep an eye, keep an eye, she says, singsong. And I have a fash of millions more eons and hours of Sil, always Sil, burning her smart little light on things we’ve got no say over, why can’t she have rings and why comet tails blind her, and why won’t Pop come back. I sure don’t know where he is; he said only he was going to grow the galaxy some. So why’s she got to make such a fuss?

I do it before I know what I’m doing, before I can simmer down—I

pop her. I knock her and wow, she doesn’t see it coming. She scuds backward, hurdling rocks and gases through space and can’t stop herself, she’s a blur of silver light spreading over the sky.

When she stops, she’s just a little white orb, and her side of the Blue’s gone dark. Te little ones panic; they scream in terror and dive for cover.

Soon as I hit her I feel bad; I didn’t really mean it. Would have stopped myself if I could. But I’m twice, three times as sorry when I see how pale she is: see what I’ve really done. Because her silver light’s splintered all over the sky, shimmering bit here, bit there, bit everywhere.

My light, she yells, my light!

Don’t cry, I holler back to her.

Look at me, she wails, I’m like a ghost in the sky!

She struggles through the black and I watch her pick up a single silver chit. Tere are billions across the dark, alight like white ficker-fames.

Sil, I say, I’m so sorry. I’ll help you.

How can you help? she cries, You can’t even light the whole Blue. Just look, my half ’s dark down below!

She scrambles to pick up light, a piece at a time, and I look back at the Blue. Tey’ve curled on the ground and shut fast their eyes, and I get scared I’ve killed them once and for all.

What would Pop say?

But where my light shines is business as usual, and the Blue spins slow, and the dark come to light and behold, everyone rises back to life. Te ones coming to dark, before long they’re lying in the sweetgrass in stupor.

I tell Sil, Tings are okay on the Blue; I really think they’re okay.

She’s still picking up her light, mooning, a sad, pale thing.

I tell her, Don’t worry, little moony girl, my little moon, I’ll help you. And I will, I’ll help her get her light back, because I’m real sorry for what I’ve done.

Tink I’ll ever shine bright like lightning again? Sil asks, sad-faced and small in the sky.

I tell her, Sil, don’t worry. You will. And anyway, they all still love you best.

Tey do?

Look, I say, Look at them lying on the ground just to gaze up at you.

Are they? she asks.

Tey are, I say, Tey sure are.

I tell her, You’re the most beautiful thing they know; you’re the whole sky. Just look at you, look how you shine in billions of ways.