1. The Lights in the Sky

Tibre followed the map drawn on the cave wall and arrived at nothing. They’d visited almost all the circles now, but unless they made a mistake, nothing of note could be found at those locations. No food, no hidden cities, no magical objects.

His stomach growled. His naked body, covered by nothing but a thin animal skin, leaned exhausted and defeated against a large rock. The horizon held nothing but emptiness, only interrupted by rare trees or animals hopping in the mud.

Might they be reading the map upside-down? No, Jassia tried that too, and that had been equally useless. They would’ve liked to ask the artist behind the map, of course, but nobody knew who that was. It seemed unlikely that their planet contained unknown intelligent life, which had done nothing besides break into their cave and draw a mysterious map for them.

Tibre knew the day was young and he had to find food before nightfall. Their storages were depleted. Every day, the speed at which a small group of humans could eat surprised him. The only group of humans on this planet, as far as they knew. But the motivation to search for food again? That was surely nowhere to be found.

Afternoon had already passed when his stomach growled with such intensity that he nearly toppled over. He finally drew his gaze away from the cave map and walked on. Ignore the map; enter unexplored territory.

His naked feet scraped over pointy pebbles and sharp twigs, but they were immune to that now. In the distance he heard his children run and play. He lacked even the energy to tell them to stop and help gather food. Especially because they knew a happiness he couldn’t find himself anymore, and he wanted to enjoy every second of that.

With the sun firmly at his back, Tibre found a new cave. Untouched, or so he thought, until he stepped inside. He felt around his hips: his trusty Echobelt was there. If any danger arrived, he’d slam against the metal to make noise.

All sunlight disappeared within a few paces. He glanced at the heavens a final time and wished for one of those stars to light his way. Even at midnight, the skies around this planet were so bright that he couldn’t sleep. They sometimes joked that more stars spied on their planet than trees dared grow here.

He placed his rough hands on the cave walls to feel where he had to go.

And he felt a line. His nail scraped back and forth, up and down, until he was certain: this was a near perfect vertical line. It must have been scratched into the wall with intent.

His hand continued and felt another line. And another. A bundle of vertical lines graced the cave wall, then an empty space, then another bundle of lines.

Dripping sounds came from further into the cave. It echoed into his ears at a slow, consistent pace. Must remember—potential new water source.

His attention, though, stayed with the lines. He started counting them. Five. Ten. Fifteen. On, and on, and on it went.

He tripped over a heavy object on the floor. His head landed in a soft patch which he immediately recognized, by scent and touch, as the ashes of an extinguished fire. His fingers reached for the object, but it rolled down a slope, which revealed the cave also went deeper into the ground.

The further he came, the more chaotic the stripes. They stopped being straight. The bundles became smaller and sometimes even horizontal. Some scratches were so short and shallow that he wasn’t sure if they counted.

He counted them all and the result was 728.

Whatever that meant, he didn’t know.

By the time he left the cave thousands of those stars lit his way. And they seemed to reward him for his effort: their sharp beams lit up a large square filled with food.

Tibre looked around. Had someone left this behind? One of his own cavemen was too lazy to pull it further?

He saw nothing suspicious and stepped closer.

Multiple squares were made from a brown wood-like material, but much weaker and more flexible. He’d have to ask Jassia if this was a new version of that invention she called a box. Much of the squares’ sides were covered in holes or blackened by fire.

And inside those squares, barely held together, waited piles upon piles of food. Tibre licked his lips and impulsively grabbed a loaf of bread. He took a bite—then spit it out.

It was covered in something. Something transparent and thin. Certainly no animal skin or crushed wood, the only materials he knew.

Did this belong to someone else? Was he not allowed to touch this? He was too hungry to let it stop him. This gift could feed the dwellers for years! He wouldn’t have to search for food every day!

He ripped of the protective material and ate the entire loaf at once. Then he dragged as much food as possible back to his home cave.

The other dwellers instantly organized a feast. Some members refused to eat the “suspicious food” and were mad that Tibre took off the “clear protection”. Most, however, shrugged and ate heartily.

Custom dictated that Tibre tell a story. Whoever was the cause of celebration had to give a speech. His stomach already turned upside-down, his body annoyed at having to stand up and tell the same story again. He only knew a handful of stories anyway, thanks to his mother.

He did it anyway. He knew how much his children enjoyed it, and it was one of the few activities he enjoyed himself too.

He rattled his Echobelt to get attention. While straightening his animal skin, he stepped up to the fire. A fire that only exist to cook the food, for their stars were bright enough to chase away any dark.

“Look at the heavens,” he said, pointing upwards. “We call them stars, but of course that’s not true! No, no, they are light bulbs.”

The usual “ooohs” and “aaahs”. The children surrounded him and looked up with bright eyes.

“Legends say that gods left behind these light bulbs. As a gift for our beautiful planet. To always light our way and show the right path, for these magical machines don’t extinguish like fire, no, they will burn forever!”

“But how do we know that?” said Piponre suddenly, his eldest son.

“Mother always told me.”

“And how did grandmother know?”

“No idea,” said Tibre frankly. “Perhaps she was there when the gods made it?”

“They’re fairy tyles,” mumbled Piponre. “I’ve seen more than enough light bulbs shut down in my life.”

“But no!” said Tibre with a smile, as he pointed at the lights again. “Those were stars. They die, they leave. But these light bulbs—”

“How can something even burn forever?” asked Piponre.

“Batteries.”

“What are those?”

“No idea.”

Piponre sighed and stood. “But what is a lightbulb?”

“A magical object, didn’t I say? Something that emits light, anyway.”

“But how? How can a fire float?”

“Cooome oooon Piponre,” whined a girl. “Don’t ruin the story.”

“She is right,” said Jassia. She only just returned from researching that weird box with the food. She hook her head; she had no clue about its origin too. That number, 728, also didn’t mean anything to her.

Jassia was the only Dweller to have a pet. It followed her around everywhere and now sat on her lap, listening to the conversation and nodding as if it understood.

“It has been a beautiful day in which we found a lot of food,” she said. “Let Tibre tell his fairy tales.”

Tibre thought their life was absolutely nothing like a fairy tale, but continued anyway.

“The legend talks of two animals who were in love, so in love, that they wanted to give each other all the stars in the sky. And that they did! They were demigods, they could do anything. But this made space dark and empty, all planets cold forever, so the other demigods made magical light bulbs that would burn forever. And they brought most of them to this planet, because,” and this was the part Tibre mostly told himself, “this planet is the prettiest one in the universe.”

Several children started crying. Well, well, his story wasn’t that bad!

They jumped from their spot and ran away from the campfire in all directions. They all pointed up.

Tibre followed their finger. One of their brightest lights had extinguished. No, it had changed. It moved rapidly, hid behind a few other light bulbs, then grew.

Until everyone cried and ran away, because the yellow dot was falling down, and it came directly for their campfire.

Tibre jumped just in time and covered his head with his arms. A heartbeat later, the ground shook and his ears rang, as multiple sharp edges pricked into his back. Their campfire had turned to ash; but the light remained.

When he turned around, a lightbulb lay in the middle of their circle. The transparent cover had burst into a hundred fragments, which allowed them to see and touch the glowing wire within.

Jassia crept closer, mouth wide open.

Then the lightbulb went out.