Sordidez by E.G. Condé

Author:E.G. Condé
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: climate change in Puerto Rico; climate change in the Yucatan; Indigenous languages; Indigenous futurism
ISBN: 9781777682378
Publisher: Stelliform Press
Published: 2023-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

The rain continued for two weeks. Mud flowed from the hills, exposing more of the buried Maya ruins. A moat of umber waters encircled the Casa Sórdida, as if it were chosen to withstand the wrath of a cleansing God. Ximena drew on her engineering talents to construct a raft out of recovered debris, with the help of Ismael and a few others with mechanical know-how. When she first arrived at the Casa, Ximena, then a young orphan, had apprenticed herself to Don Luis, the Casa’s handyman. When Margarita had asked her why a young woman would take an interest in such a thing, Ximena had said, “Fixing things reminds me that the world can be changed.”

Ismael and Ximena used their raft to patrol the waters, looking for valuable jetsam carried from upstream. Since the flood, the UN dele­gation had not delivered their weekly shipment of supplies. Margarita had prepared for their eventual abandonment, creating a cache of foodstuffs, medicines, and other supplies. No one had noticed the sacrifices they’d been making all along, the cans or bags of flour that she had been stockpiling, depriving them of extra helpings with these desperate days in mind. As the Casa’s stores dwindled, she thanked her past self for her prudence.

From the roof that had become their lookout tower, she peered across the floodplain. On the radio, they had overheard static-laced murmurings of violence springing up all over the countryside. The People’s Government claimed a terrorist was at large, using the chaos of the storm as cover for vast seizures of land. History was repeating itself. Another wave of war to follow the mud. She knew that war would come again, that the People’s Government would fail as they were failing her now, but she hadn’t expected it so soon.

Avian shapes bristled on the horizon. Atop their raft, Ximena and Ismael waved as aircraft soared over the mud-streaked hills in a tight formation. They touched down on a promontory of rock that loomed over the floodwaters. Soon the silty lake was teeming with an armada of inflated rafts.

Margarita and the others descended from the roof to greet the United Nations peacekeepers on their makeshift dock. Their white regalia seemed too bright for the grayness of this world. They formed close ranks as they approached, parting to allow a tall man in a military uniform to pass to the front of their rank. The red and gold brassard on his arm signaled that he was an agent of the People’s Government rather than a UN operative. Even in the wan light of overcast skies, Margarita could see that his skin was pale, like sun-bleached oak, and his eyes were a rare shade of viridian that exuded kindness. He stopped short of entering the Casa, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled at Margarita.

“Margarita Urbina Soto?”

She nodded, noting how the young man stooped when he spoke to her, as if to meet her halfway.

“I hear you call the shots around here?”

“Someone has to,” Margarita said, bowing her head slightly, a gesture that felt especially ridiculous given his stature.

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