“Do you have a name?” Jing-Wei said, turning to the shape now wreathed in blue and looking like the shadow of a very dirty boy. “I am called Li Jing-Wei. My name means small bird.”
“I have many names,” the boy shape replied. “So many that I don’t remember them all. But your words . . . they are strange and hard to repeat. What name would you give me?”
“What name do you want?” Jing-Wei asked. “I was not given a choice. I was too little when I was born.”
“I was little, too,” the boy shape replied. “But I need a name that you can use, a new one. One that your mouths can shape and I can distinguish from the others.”
“Did you kill anyone in my village?”
“No,” the boy shape replied. “The others, when they thought you took me, they would have attacked.”
“Why didn’t they attack here?” Jing-Wei demanded. She turned to the shapes outside the bubble. “Did you cause the demons to attack my village?”
“No,” the lion said. “We didn’t know about it until you came here.”
“My people would have gone for the nearest solid ones,” the demon said. In a different tone, it continued, “Are there many who have died?”
“More than I can count!” Jing-Wei said, waving her hands at him twice.
“What does that mean?” the boy shape asked.
“Many,” the lion said. “We count each finger of our hands and each toe of our feet and we get twenty.”
The blue boy looked ill. Kill is forever.
“Yes,” Jing-Wei agreed. “Forever.”
“You would kill this one?” the blue boy asked, waving a hand at himself.
“You didn’t kill any of my people, did you?”
“No, I did not,” the boy said. “But if I hadn’t come here, they wouldn’t have died. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t bring them back!” Jing-Wei cried, her hands balled into tight little fists.
“We can’t bring them back,” the lion called. “But we can make sure that no more die.”
Forever? No.
“Why not?” Jing-Wei asked. “You say you live forever—why can’t we make this last forever?”
You do not last forever, the demon said. You are solid. You will stop one day, entropy will destroy you.
“Is that what happened before?” Jing-Wei asked. “The ones who signed the treaty, are they all dead?”
We fight. We forget. We can die. We cannot be reborn.
“No one can be reborn,” Jing-Wei said.
“So, not a practicing Buddhist, then,” the elephant rumbled softly to himself.
No new ones. No “children.”
“You said you were a child!” Jing-Wei protested.
Last child. Last in forever. No new children. Soon all will be gone.
“He says he’s the last child,” Jing-Wei said. “How can that be?”
“They seem to be beings of pure energy,” the lion said. “They may have forgotten how they created themselves.”
“Their numbers are dwindling, they’re dying out,” the eagle said.
“And we’re helping them along,” the elephant rumbled sadly.
“You’re dying?” Jing-Wei said to the demon.
Can’t die. Can’t be born.
“What the animals said,” Jing-Wei said irritably. “There are no new people for you?”
I am the last child.
“So why did you come here?” Jing-Wei asked.
To ask for help. Cave of miracles.
“He came to the cave of miracles to ask for help,” Jing-Wei said. “He wants us to help them learn how to make new baby energy people, like him.”
“We don’t know how!” the eagle cried in anger and frustration.
“Can’t you learn?” Jing-Wei asked. She turned to the blue boy. “We don’t know right now. We could learn over time.”
“People die,” the boy said. “Ending is forever.”
“How about I call you Fai?” Jing-Wei said suddenly. “It means ‘beginning’—because we must begin something new.”
“I can be Fai,” the blue boy agreed. “Can I be Li Fai, so that we are related?”
“How does he know that?” the elephant asked from outside the blue energy bubble.
“He’s accessing our databases,” the eagle replied. “Check your monitors.”
“Can we stop him?” the lion asked.
“It’s probably already too late,” the elephant said after a moment. “It looks like he’s accessed about fifty percent of our records.”
“It tickles,” Fai, the blue boy, said. “Most of the memories fade. I was looking to see if I could remember . . .”
“How to make more of your people?” Jing-Wei guessed.
“No,” Li Fai said. “I wanted to know if we could touch.”
“Touch?” Jing-Wei repeated. She looked at the blue boy, flinched in memory of the strange pain she’d felt when she’d reached out for him earlier, and shook her head.
“Would you try?” Li Fai asked. He reached a blue hand toward her, stretching his fingers out until the index finger was closest. “Just a finger?”
Jing-Wei bit her lip. “Welll . . .” She reached forward. Her finger touched his and suddenly—
This is what it is like to breathe! This is what it is like to feel blood flowing, a heart pumping! Li Fai exclaimed in wonder.
You are like the lightning, like the flash and the boom! Jing-Wei responded. She moved forward, grabbed his hand in hers and pulled him tight against her. You are power! You are—Words failed her. She doubted anyone, no matter how old, could find them.
And suddenly Li Jing-Wei was no more. Li Fai was no more.
Together, Jing-Wei told the boy. We do this together.
Yes! Yes! the boy cried eagerly.
We tell my people and your people what will be, Jing-Wei said. Harshly, she added, Those who don’t listen will be destroyed.
Destroyed? A note of doubt.
No one can hurt another.
But us? The boy didn’t like that.
Only if they don’t listen, Jing-Wei said. We will make them listen.
How?
We must become the biggest, scariest, most powerful being. We will listen, we will love, but we will not allow harm, murder.
You can do this?
No. We can.
How?
My name means small bird, the Jing-Wei half responded. We will become the largest beast in the sky, the most powerful.
What beast is that? the Fai half asked, accessing the data banks and bringing forth images and facts on known flying creatures.
I will show you.
“Lieutenant!” the elephant rumbled. “The field is collapsing!”
“We’re taking a huge energy hit,” the eagle added. They could hear the generators in the back of the cave whine with an immense strain.
And then the noise was gone.
“What happened?” the lion demanded. She glanced at the force field but it was gone. So were the demon and the girl. “Where are they?”
“Look up!” a voice called down to them. The three animals looked up.
“Oh . . . my . . . stars!” the lion cried in awe. “You’re so beautiful.”