A New Night

Our Sleepless Days and Nights

When Krogallo’s story was over, the Night People gathered to socialize for a bit—talking excitedly in the moonlight. Even the younger bats perched on me left to play. I stood and watched as they all gradually dispersed. Since Krogallo, Camolla, and Romalla weren’t around, I guessed they also went to eat. It made sense … I was sure they had to be hungry after spending so much time helping me out of the cave and then answering my questions.

I decided to walk along the Wall, occasionally finding some Night People staring but not knowing how to interact with them. It wasn’t as if I could approach them like, ‘Hey—Larry, Tina! You two try out the bloodbags on South Beach recently? Oh, it’s the hottest place to eat since Central Beach.’ No, I would have had no idea what to say. It was probably better to let the ones who wanted to talk to me do so on their own terms.

I left the clearing where the storytelling had taken place—entering a part of the island that was more densely forested. Even there, however, I was taller than most of the plants. I stopped walking when I finally saw a tree that was a little taller than me, with large, palm-like leaves. It created a semi-secluded little spot in the dark. I sat on mossy ground, leaned against the Wall, and watched the Night People dart over the beach and the seas.

I tried to make myself relax so that I could drift to sleep. Just waiting there …. staring at the dark water. Ready to go into a slumber …

Nothing.

I had suspected that sleeping would be a challenge—as exciting and confusing as my life had quickly become since waking. However, I did not expect sleep to feel so … impossible.

At first, I thought this was due to my fear of the Golems. The whole thing about fighting stone giants was still a bit much for me. So, I forced myself to think about other matters. Eventually, I succeeded, imagining the tune of some melody until I felt at rest. Even then, however, I did not feel tired. It wasn’t that I was energetic or wired; I just felt … on.

Like a machine.

Hours passed slowly as I sat quietly with my back against the Wall. The wind blowing in from over the ocean became chillier, though I did not feel discomfort. My sense of temperature just seemed to be … information.

Eventually, the sun rose. I watched the Night People begin to escape the light. Some went to their hanging huts, while others went to the caves. By the time the sunrise reflected off the blue waters of the sea and began to warm the air, nobody was around except me.

Even the bloodbags—the fat seal-walrus things—had made their way to the water. They floated not far from shore as the low waves rolled past, their faces and tails submerged. When one lifted its head over the water to breathe, I noticed it was chewing lackadaisically on something green. I’d heard of manatees being referred to as sea cows. Maybe that nickname would have also been suitable for the bloodbags.

Finally feeling somewhat settled and perhaps even bored, I stood from my place under the tree and slowly meandered to the nearest end of the island—where the Wall, beach, and ocean met. From there, I began walking along the sand toward the opposite end of the island. This didn’t take long, and the bloodbags mostly ignored me as I passed.

When I had finished walking the length of the beach, I turned around to do it again. That was when I really noticed my footsteps. They were oddly shaped—which drove me to look closer at my feet.

While my upper body was loosely shaped like that of a human of odd proportions, my feet were like a bird’s. They were almost entirely comprised of two toes in front and one in back in a Y-shape. There was no pad, ball … or really much of a foot. Instead, at the end of these elongated toes were circular pads shaped almost like those of a tree frog. Except … a closer look revealed that they were a little more complex.

Balancing on one foot, I lifted the other to see the bottoms of the odd pads—the undersides were not solid metal. Rather, they were hollow and filled with interlocking gears and pieces of metal. Extending out from each toe was a narrow slit. It was almost as if my toes were meant to also feature metal cat claws. But, of course, I had no idea how to make them work.

As I watched my feet, I almost missed a flash of green go over my shoulder and land in front of me. It was Romalla again, the assistant priest. She looked at me with bared teeth, which I had come to interpret as a smile. Her eyes, however, were half-shut, and her brow was furrowed. It took me a moment to remember her people’s apparent disdain for the sun. After all, they were the ‘Night’ People.

Romalla nodded at me and said, “Sleeping God! What are you doing all alone on the Island Shores? Conversing with your sister, Sun?” Her tone sounded like she was trying hard to display the correct amount of reverence—while trying to hide her excitement and physical discomfort at the light.

“You can just call me Bassello,” I said, giving a short wave to greet her. “I was just walking. What about you? I thought Night People were only awake during the … night.”

It didn’t seem that Romalla had heard my question. Instead of answering, she was imitating my hand wave with her claw connected to her wing. The awkward lifting of her entire forward limb into the air made me imagine a human waving a crutch tied to their arm.

“What is the meaning of this wing movement?” Romalla asked. “Is it different than moving your head?”

“Oh … yeah, I guess,” I replied. I waved my hand at her again. This time, however, the gesture felt awkward and forced—the same sensation as when one repeated a word until it lost its meaning. “It’s a … less formal way of greeting someone, I think? Like, if you don’t know someone, you might nod. If you see your friend, you sometimes just wave.”

Romalla turned her head sideways, seeming to think about it. Then, her eyes widened slightly, and her teeth became fully bared. “Does this mean that you consider me your friend, Sleeping God?”

“Bassello,” I repeated, tasting a faint sensation of nausea—which I ignored. “But sure, I think we’re friends. You and Krogallo are the only two people I even kind of know. So-”

“Of course, Bassello, I would be honored that you call me friend,” Romalla said. Then, quickly, she attempted her own clumsy claw wave again.

Without thinking, I smiled a little—if for just a moment. Then, I waved back at her again. This time, however, I couldn’t help but notice the hand and massive forearm I used to do so. I felt my mood drop sharply. This change in my emotional state caused all my existentialist dread and feelings of … some kind of horrific bodily dysphoria … to resurface.

Yet, none of my feelings made any sense to me. How could I feel like such a stranger in the only body I’d ever known? How could I miss a fleshy body that I couldn’t even remember? I became very still and quiet for a moment … lost in thought.

Romalla hopped closer, tilted her head, and looked at me quizzically. “What’s wrong, Bassello?”

I wasn’t sure how she could detect my mood shift, except maybe because I hadn’t replied to her. Or perhaps she was learning my expressions as quickly as I was learning the Night People’s. I made a sweeping motion over my torso. “I … my body doesn’t feel like me. I don’t even really know what I am.”

I sighed in frustration. I hated not being able to communicate what I was feeling. My only glimpses of myself had come from my reflection in a tiny pond and what I could see from my limited perspective. From these, I first assumed I was a giant killer robot shaped like a cartoon sailor. Subsequently, I imagined I looked like a cute, extra-large astronaut toy with bat ears. Finally, having examined my feet, I now felt like I was some kind of frog-cat.

My body felt like a cruel joke, especially when every feeling inside of me told me that I was human. Sure, the Night People might not know how silly I looked, being bats and having no frame of reference for how humans should look. But what if I came across humans in actual human bodies? They would immediately know how ridiculous I was. And if they weren’t a high-tech culture like whoever had made me, they would probably be terrified.

What if I was stuck like this forever—in a body that was not me? In a body that I couldn’t even fully see because the Night People had no cameras or mirrors. Not knowing made me feel even more like a prisoner in this alien body. And as overwhelming as all this was, I didn’t even know how to express it to Romalla, Krogallo, or anybody else.

Romalla, however, did not wait around for my fruitless attempts to sort out my thoughts. She took flight with a few flaps of her wings and glided around me. I could hear her make clicking noises as she flew.

The thought reminded me that such clicking noises were how bats hunted—using echolocation. Was Romalla trying to figure out more about my body using sound? I felt a small amount of embarrassment, not knowing what kinds of details she would notice by examining me so closely. However, I also felt a little curious and … hopeful that I could find out more.

While I wondered, Romalla made about a dozen quick circles around me before she landed. When she did so, her teeth were bared. Finally, she said, “Bassello, your corporal body seems to be a silvery tree or rock. But inside the belly and the fat parts of your wings, there is empty space.”

I was hollow? Maybe I was missing parts. If something wasn’t missing, wouldn’t my creators have simply made my frame thinner? Then again, maybe there was storage room inside me … like if I were a robot created to carry valuables.

With these hidden weapons and this cute face … had I been designed to rob banks? Maybe I was supposed to charm people, mug them, and store their valuables inside me? This seemed outlandish … but I guess I did look rather outlandish too.

Romalla hopped with her large kangaroo-feet, flapped her wings to gain extra height, and landed on the back of my rubber-coated hand. I rotated my hand—palm-up—to give her a bit more stability. I felt a dull hum and then a warm, tingling sensation in my hand, like electricity running softly and smoothly.

Romalla seemed to notice as well. She backed onto my forearm and then pressed her pointed snout to the palm of my hand. “Your fat claw is warming.”

“It’s … a hand,” I muttered. I thought about mentioning that I wasn’t a massive fan of my body parts being described as ‘fat,’ even though I knew it probably wasn’t being used offensively. But I noticed that the faint electrical hum that had started in my hand had cut off; it had moved to my forearm—where Romalla was. Almost like the heat only turned on where she happened to be standing.

I moved my arm close to my torso to hold Romalla, much like I might have held a cat—stabilizing her feet while avoiding pinning her in any way. When I did so, the metal in my forearm folded inward to reveal a shallow, hidden compartment. This compartment was covered in the same semi-transparent white rubber that coated my hands. It was like a tiny bed, already lightly humming and warming. I couldn’t imagine any practical use for such a feature in a robot … except maybe for incubating a few-dozen eggs.

Did that mean I was a chicken-farming robot? Given the circumstances, this idea seemed worse than being a war-mech or goofy bank robber. While I didn’t want to slaughter people, I dreaded thinking of how a poultry robot would do in a fight against a Golem. No … they would destroy me. Egg-warming power was no match for rock-crushing power. I was going to die.

I realized I was letting out a low but nervous groan. Embarrassed, I tried to distract from my genuine fear with a joke. “What am I supposed to do—cuddle the Golems to sleep?”

“Bassello, with the greatest respect, I do not think that will work,” Romalla said, curtly shaking her head. Fortunately, she hadn’t seemed to notice my little panic attack. “I propose you use the long claws you showed us in the cave. Then you can cut the Golems.”

“I … yeah, maybe,” I replied, somewhat afraid to admit that I had no clue how to activate them.

I placed Romalla gently on the ground and then extended my arms in front of me. For a moment, I tried to just will the blades out of my arms … no response. I tried pulling my elbows back and then crouched threateningly like a clawed superhero who I vaguely remembered … still nothing. I let out a half-hearted growl, just in case … nada.

I sighed, stood back up, and finally said, “I don’t know how … and I don’t think I came with an instructions manual.”

This did make me think to check the undersides of my arms for any written instructions in fine print. But, of course, there was nothing. I huffed half-heartedly.

“Then we wait until the Golems come, and you can demand the answers from them!” Romalla said, baring her teeth in what seemed like a bloodthirsty smile. “Make them tell you how to operate your new body by terrifying them with your divine power!”

I noted a somewhat alarming overconfidence in my abilities on her part. As for me, I did not think it a particularly good idea to take any sort of wait-and-see approach when it came to fighting anything that could smash boulders. So I replied, “Maybe I should figure out a different way to fight the Golems.”

I thought briefly about anything that could help me in a fight. I had checked the pod and cave thoroughly and seen no buried trove filled with swords or rocket launchers.

I looked at the beach; none of the shells or rocks seemed like they would be substantial enough weapons. Sure, maybe I could find a stone to throw or a crumbled piece of the giant Wall. However, the enormous boulder that had been snapped in half made me doubt the efficacy of any such attack. And any tree branch would probably just snap if I used it against a Golem … whether the giant villains were made of rocks or metal.

That only left the option of designing a series of pitfalls and dangerous traps—some spike falls on the beach, rolling longs going down the hill, paint cans swinging from the banister of my nonexistent house. Not being any sort of marine, mercenary, or sadistic psycho-kid, I didn’t think the traps I might have built would have done much other than ruin the island.

Romalla scratched between her toes, her brow furrowed. At one point, her eyes lit up, and she bit at the air in a vicious pretend attack. She turned to look at me … seemingly at my nonexistent mouth. Then her demeanor deflated, and she continued to scratch thoughtfully.

That was when a new idea occurred to me. “Maybe … if I knew some kung-fu, that might work.”

At this point, I was just spit-balling. But this idea seemed slightly less impossible than the prospect of forcing the machetes to come out. I punched the air a few times to see if some sort of kung-fu had been programmed into me. No such luck. The punches seemed about as useless as attacks from a robot could possibly be. This might have counted as further evidence of me being a poultry-bot. The blades on my arms were probably just oversized kitchen knives.

“What is ‘kung-fu’?” Romalla asked as she watched me.

I sighed. “It’s like, fighting without weapons … but better. I used to see stories of other people using it. But I never learned any kung-fu, I don’t think.”

I squatted and pulled my fists down to my hips … a position I thought was called a horse stance. From that position, I threw a few more punches at an imaginary enemy in front of me. Again, the strikes did not feel overly impressive—certainly not boulder-cracking caliber. Sure, if I were fighting people, then even bad attacks would be pretty significant coming from a robot. If I were fighting stone or metal, however, I didn’t like my chances.

Romalla scratched between her toes and looked over the horizon, squinting to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun’s brightness. She now looked kind of tired. It made sense; she had now been awake long past when the other Night People had gone to sleep in their caves and huts.

“Are you sure you don’t need to sleep?” I asked, feeling a little bit concerned.

“I may have an idea,” Romalla said, her half-closed eyes answering my question even as she ignored it. She beckoned me with a head motion and hopped toward the underground cave where I had first woken up. As she bounced along, she said, “By new night, I think I will be able to make it so that you can engage in kung-fu, in preparation for the Golems.”

I found myself intrigued … or maybe morbidly curious … as I followed her back to the cave. I tried to imagine how she could possibly organize any kind of fight training for me. I couldn’t think of a way and decided to wait and see.

The underground cave entrance wasn’t a far walk. As we approached, we saw Camolla and Krogallo standing over it, looking like they’d been waiting for us. The two of them seemed like they were also struggling to keep their eyes open.

“Elder Prophet Krogallo,” Romalla said, nodding to both him and her mother (both of whom nodded in reply, and then to me, and I to them, just to finish the circle). “I have spoken with the Sleeping God, Bassello and devised a way to prepare him for the Golems.”

“Interesting … we should speak of these things in depth and then consult the spirit realm,” Krogallo said, opening his wing as if to beckon her away so they could talk privately. He then looked at me and said, “You are welcome to join us in beseeching the spirits for answers and inspiration.”

“No thanks,” I replied and lifted my hand. “I’ll just … wait out here.”

“Very well,” Krogallo said with a smile. He nodded at me one last time and then crawled into the cave behind Romalla. Their departure left me alone with Romalla’s mother, the brown bat named Camolla.

For a moment, we kind of just stood there in awkward quiet.

“How are you getting along among the Night People?” Camolla asked and then hopped over so she was standing right in front of me.

This left me feeling a little overly … tall … as I towered over her. So I carefully took a seat in the sand and crossed my legs. Again, I found myself forgetting that personal space wasn’t a concept to them, only to be reminded when she hopped on my knee. From a human perspective, a bat jumping onto one’s knee was adorable. But my relationship with them was nothing like that between a human and their pet. So my brain had to struggle a bit at the idea that a person I barely knew had just taken a seat on my knee like I was Santa.

“It’s … uhm … been nice in some ways,” I said, to which Camolla nodded along, clearly wanting to hear more. So I continued, “I mean, I’ve liked talking to you and Romalla and Krogallo, but I haven’t really talked to anyone else. I think they’re … scared of me.”

Camolla gave a soft nod and patted my knee with her clawed wing. “While we worship the gods, I don’t think any of us expected to ever meet one in this life.”

I nodded quickly. “That makes sense.” I didn’t want to make a big deal of the matter, so I let it go.

To my surprise, however, Camolla didn’t. “But it doesn’t make it easier for you … does it?”

I paused for a moment, not sure how able I was to open up. But I felt compelled to shake my head and open up … just a little. I didn’t want to get overly emotional with this person I barely knew, but I felt so emotionally drained and … alone. “I feel like … well … like I should feel like one of you.”

“Like a ‘guy’,” Camolla said empathetically.

“Just like … a normal person,” I tried to explain, hearing my voice coming out a little more emotional than I had expected. “I mean, y’all are the closest thing I know to who I feel I am inside. I just want to have skin and hair and a real face—and to be like all of you. But instead, I feel like everyone sees me as a Golem who may not want to kill them.”

I didn’t know how else to describe my feelings without having a breakdown. I didn’t know how to explain how cosmically cruel it felt that it was the people I felt most at home with who were afraid of me. All to finally look at my reflection and find that … I couldn’t blame them for being scared of such a monster.

Camolla nodded along, listening quietly. She paused for a moment and said, “I’m sorry, Bassello. That must be hard on you. I wish I knew how to fix it.”

“Yeah,” I said and gave a heavy sigh. I didn’t know how to properly say that I also wished she knew how to fix everything. Or how to say that I appreciated her listening and at least pretending she wasn’t scared of me. I just didn’t want to try crying—only to find out that I wasn’t physically capable of doing so.

A moment passed as we sat and watched the waves.

“And I’m sure my dear Romalla is not the best person to ask about how to be more approachable to our people,” Camolla said, baring her teeth just a little in a smile.

I gave a half-smile as well.

Camolla seemed to grow particularly quiet for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to say something. Then, after a bit, she said, “I apologize if my daughter is a bit too … zealous. She has been … different … ever since she was young. It was discovered early on, even for a prophet, that she could hear the voices of the spirit realm. So Krogallo immediately began teaching her. She learned about listening to the gods before she could know much about being a child.”

“She doesn’t bother me,” I said, struggling for the right words and feeling strangely bashful. “I … like having her around.”

Camolla bared her teeth in a slight smile. “She reminds me of her father.”

“Was he … zealous as well?” I asked, feeling that this word wasn’t quite right for Romalla but settling for Camolla’s wording.

Camolla must have understood because she gave a wobbling shriek that I understood as laughter. “No, she gets her stubbornness from me. Oh, I used to tell her father that it didn’t matter how many wives any of his friends had; he was stuck with just one. And if he ever thought otherwise, he would get a kick straight to the head that would knock his big ears right off him.” She bared her teeth as she reminisced fondly.

I gave a giggle as well—not so much at any particular joke but just because it felt nice to laugh with someone about something pleasant.

“No, she reminds me of how brave her father was, how willing he always was to speak his mind about anything to anyone. Of his conviction … to do what was right and never compromise, not even a little. Of how singular-minded his attention was. If he decided he was curious about something washed on shore or some new fish he saw swimming around, he would not stop until he knew everything he could about it. He was the one to study the Servants for Krogallo!”

“That’s … really cool,” I said and smiled with her.

Camolla nodded. “Of course, I worried. But he … was careful, most of the time.” She paused.

I watched her, not sure what to say since I was pretty sure I knew what she was talking about. So, instead, I just waited quietly.

After a moment, Camolla’s eyes welled with tears—slightly refracting the sun and the dull blue light coming from my face. “I … used to fear that such a strong will might have caused the gods to take him away from me.”

I paused, unsure if I had any right to speak for any god, even though she believed I was one. But after quickly deciding that heresy was one of the few things I wasn’t afraid of, I said, “Having spirit is good, I think.”

“I’m glad. I’ve worried that this kind of spirit would lead to Romalla being taken away too. Or that her pride would attract the attention of evil spirits.” Camolla paused again to scratch her toes. “Passing to the next life, I mean. She’s going to leave this place one day. I know she will. Sometimes I think Krogallo’s specified teaching is the only reason she’s stayed for so long.”

Yeah … it was probably true. Though I barely knew Romalla, I could tell that she was strong and intelligent. Had she been a human, I could have imagined her as the sort of person who would go out and find her place in the world. Maybe as a rockstar, an explorer, or even as some kind of … extreme activist.

Of course, I had no idea what Night People with that sort of determination and ambition usually ended up doing. Maybe they went out to settle other islands like Krogallo had? Or perhaps they found other tribes to lead—especially being a priest. But leading a tribe in a quiet little island life was the one thing I couldn’t see Romalla doing. What place was there here for a priest who would easily bore of being one?

Camolla shook her head and drew several calming breaths. “I’m sorry; I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I guess I know that, like her, you will likely not be here forever. And I hope that when she does leave, it will be with someone who … sees her.”

I was surprised by the request and wasn’t initially sure I’d heard her correctly. Was she really entrusting me to take care of her daughter? I was reasonably certain I couldn’t care for myself, much less someone else.

However, I wanted Camolla not to carry this stress … or think I didn’t care about her daughter. Not knowing what else to do and not wanting my silence taken the wrong way, I finally said, “If … something happens and we both leave the Island … we’ll stay together.” As I said the words, they felt silly and unhelpful. And I doubted that they would have been very encouraging to me if I had been worried that one of my family members was going to run away.

However, Camolla gave a small, gracious smile. She then gave a deep nod. It wasn’t quite a bow … but it was more than a greeting. Then she asked, “Will you need somewhere to sleep until a new night comes?”

Feeling no more tired than before, I replied, “I kind of … tried earlier. It didn’t work. I don’t think I can sleep in this body.” It felt a lot like the previous conversation about eating. However, I was a bit sadder about this particular inability.

Camolla gave me another worried look and then sighed, “Well … do wake us if you become cold.” She rested her claw on one of my hands. Then, she turned, hopped off my knee, and climbed down into the caves.