The Humanarium.

Chapter 13. The Knife.

It is all about the correct air ratio. They require a selective oxygen level far different from our own. It is similar to the higher mountain peaks, but I should be able to emulate it.

The next few cycles passed with a quiet comfort that Harl had never before known. He woke early each cycle and helped Sonora look after Gorman and gather plants, many of which he was starting to learn a lot about due to her careful teachings. The three of them got on well together and even Gorman had said the house felt livelier than it had before.

Harl would take pleasure from the simplest mundane tasks, chopping the firewood, or feeding the small clutch of chickens that roamed the lush garden before the wild wood at the back of the house.

Having Sonora around only increased his contentment for what he now saw as a new and happy life. He hadn't thought about his parents since being placed here, and that, more than anything, made him happy. He felt part of a new family.

He would sometimes find time hanging motionless around him while he watched Sonora working. The way she was so in harmony with the woodland, and picked only enough herbs for her needs was mesmerising. Birds would flutter around her and the sound of her laughter was more refreshing than the coldest spring water. Her movements thrilled him, so graceful and gentle and then she would steal his breath away with only a single glance or smile.

Gorman became more than a friend. His trust in the old man grew with each cycle. Gorman would sit, whittling away at a piece of wood with a small knife, while he told Harl of the world. His senses seemed more alive than anything Harl could imagine. When Harl had been chopping wood for the fire, Gorman had laughed and then walked over, taken the axe from him and split a stubborn log that Harl had been battling with.

'Follow the grain of the wood, Harl. Work with nature, not against it.'

But it was on the thirteenth cycle after the hearing that Gorman sat him down and asked him what he was planning to do with his new land.

'I hadn't thought much about it,' he said, 'I should probably go and have a look at it. Will you join me?'

It was only after his request that he realised what he had said. Gorman noticed it immediately and a grin spread across his face.

'I'm sorry,' Harl said. 'I always forget that you can't see. I see you doing things around the house and you seem so aware of everything that your blindness escapes me.'

'It is nothing to be sorry about,' Gorman said, 'and I wouldn't mind a stroll under the cool of the trees. Who knows what trouble you might need me to get you out of?'

They set out, Harl leading the old man sure-footedly through the trees as Gorman waved his stick left and right ahead of him. It didn't take long to reach Harl's plot of land. It was not far from the cottage and the swathe of land had a bountiful look to it, even if it did back on to the imposing black barrier.

He hated the constant feeling of confinement, even if it was only on one side. He knew that if the wall was suddenly removed then his friends and his old house would be a short stroll away. He wondered how Troy was getting along and he wished he could let him know he was alright. He could imagine the look on Troy's face as he introduced him to Sonora, the blonde-haired beauty.

Gorman insisted on being guided around the entire plot of land. He tapped everything with his stick and ran his hands over rocks and tree trunks. They discussed building a house and digging a well, and the techniques they could employ in doing so. Although Gorman could not directly help, his knowledge of construction far outweighed that of Harl's. It was the same in all things, and it seemed to Harl that there was no end to the man's knowledge.