Fragmented Visions

Babel - Extended Remix

There was a commotion in the camp - one loud enough that it could be heard through the thick, wooden walls of the schoolroom. A dozen young heads looked up from their books and glanced at each other, curious as to what was going on. The teacher slapped her desk with the yard-long metal strip that she used as a pointer. "Back to your lessons!"

Stacey raised her voice, joining in with the other students. "Miss Keane! What if it's trouble?"

Miss Keane brought her ruler down onto Stacey's desk, uncomfortably close to the teenager's knuckles. "There's no alarm, so I suggest you ignore everything going on outside this room. You are here to learn." The teacher swept the room with her glare, daring her students to contradict her. Then, satisfied that she had reasserted her authority, Miss Keane continued. "I can see that you require some form of reassurance, otherwise you will not settle. So, I shall go outside and see what is going on." She hauled her tattered greatcoat from its perch on the back of her chair and walked to the schoolroom door. "No slacking now!" she called over her shoulder by way of a farewell.

As soon as the schoolroom door closed behind Miss Keane, her students began chattering in wild speculation.

"What do you think it is?" Bobby, an 8-year old, was the youngest in the class. He looked nervously at the other students, hoping they would reassure him.

"Reck'n it's something important," Mary replied. "Question is, what?" She spun on her chair - an old barstool she had claimed as hers by virtue of being the oldest of Miss Keane's students - and made for the window that overlooked the camp gates.

Bobby juggled on his seat. "But Miss Keane said - !"

"Blow it out your ears!" Mary levered the window open and leaned out, stretching forward until her feet dangled a few inches above the schoolroom floor. Another half-dozen of the children crowded around her, eager not to miss out on what was going on, but there wasn't enough room for all of them at the window.

Stacey hung back. "C'mon. Tell us what's going on out there."

"A'right." Mary strained to see through the huddle of buildings between the school and the gates. "Looks like there's a crowd. Ev'ryone's there. Somebody's talking to them, making a fuss."

"Who?"

Mary shot Stacey a vicious glance. "There's a lot of people out there, okay? Now, shut it." Then she hauled herself further into the window frame, until she was balanced half-in, half-out of the room.

Stacey moved closer to the window and listened intently. She could make out the noise of the crowd. From the sounds of it, the inhabitants of the camp were agitated. The sound of their voices rose and fell. It took a minute or so for Stacey to pick out those she knew well. "I think they're talking about ... ." It was difficult to follow the threads of the various conversations, but one word kept being repeated. "Babblers."

"Babblers?" Mary slid back into the schoolroom and turned to stare at Stacey. Her face was pale. "You're kidding me - right?"

"I think that's what they said."

Mary sucked at her lower lip. "Right. I got to find Ma, tell her." Suddenly, she grabbed Stacey by the collar of her shirt and thrust a fist under the younger girl's nose. "You'd better be right! If you're scarin' me - !" She left the rest of the threat hanging unsaid, then ran out of the schoolroom.

Outside, the voices were beginning to quiet down, with a single voice rising above them. Stacey recognised it as her father's. She elbowed her way into the window so she could hear better. With the rest of the crowd now silent, her father's words were carried by the cold, November air.