The rain came down like it had a score to settle. It had sent the winds our way, and we should’ve been prepared. But this was the final stretch of sensors, and I wanted to have it done today. I held the string tight and went through the knots as fast as I could. The first couple were fine, but I had to re-do the last one. Then, I climbed down, which was trickier and colder. First time getting caught while installing. Not very fun, so far.

By the time I got on to my bike, my pager started going off. The meet up location. I set it to print and unwrapped a poncho, and started off.

What a long ass day, and I’ve only been up for maybe three hours. Is this the life I wanted to live? Not sure. At some point, yes. But in this rain drenched, biking to safety, mud and potholed roads in the middle of buttfucknowhere — very much, not sure.

I’m not sure how long it took, but I got to the little bus stop shelter by the crossroads eventually. I had to check on the location and send it over to the GPS. And figure out the route in my mind so I didn't get the equipment wet. Motherfucker. Fucking rain.

At least the receiver was working. This far out, in a dry area, not a whole lot to scramble the RC channels. I wonder if the village knows too, where the safe banks are. I know they live here, they probably know the land much better than I do.

I turn the radio to the village first, which is static. And then change to the climber network. J.’s announcing the routes and repeating the coordinates. Ok, then. They’ve probably evacuated. One last check on the bike, a quick electrolyte melt under my tongue, and back on.

5 km east, and then 0.5 miles up. Projected conditions, floods, mainly. And potential electric event in the west. Which means we’ll be down there later to help with any fires. Nice. Incredible. Amazing.

I’ve officially been in the field for 4 months now. The three months of training were fun, even if I got the circuits wrong, or was too slow in the relay races. The fun was there. Being around people, working with the community, having seniors look over your work. It was cozy.

The field is boring, brutal, even. I picked the edges near the coast, thinking it would be nice to work in the land where my ancestors were from. I could learn to steer a boat, practice my mother tongue, learn the things my parents didn’t think to teach me.

The coast gets swallowed, nearly every storm. The last place we set up, the system showed a light storm. But it picked up speed quickly, and even 30 clicks from the coast, it flooded with salt. Half of us woke up the village, and the other half inflated boats, created make shift rafts for the livestock and belongings.

As a kid, I used to love the rain. The red skies, sometime purple - like a bruise. Then thunder, and the wind turning sweet. When the rain finally came, the trees would shake like they were dancing for joy. And then, the earth would smell so beautiful, so fresh and tender. I learnt once, that it was bacteria in the soil, reacting to the water.

This time though, I am alone. Racing against time and tide. Mud, everywhere. I’m praying I don’t skid or fall over. Even with my weekly herbal brew for immunity, worse than the physical — I think I might lose my courage.

I volunteered to do the sensors today. I had roped in the kids and elders in the hall and we had made this batch together. I don’t always get my sensors right, and its tedious to solder so many. It’s easier when I convince others to do it with me. It becomes craftier, cuter. And I pay extra attention, because there will be other people.

Plus, it got me out of kitchen duty. Fuck peeling 20 sacks of potatoes. And I was feeling good today, like I could climb 30 trees and be home for dinner.

Most of the horror stories at camp are usually runners that have got severe injuries — usually when they’re out alone. usually in weather like this. I try not to think about it, keeping my breathing steady, keeping my eyes on the road.

*

It happened before I had a chance to react. The blurry world became blurrier, and then dark.

In the darkness, I was back at camp, playing tag with the children, teasing folks in the kitchen, watching old tv shows in the common room tent, my head on a friend’s shoulders, another friend in my arms. And it hurt. It hurt all over.

I came to, wet. Slow confusing consciousness. My hands reached down, feeling its way to my legs, then my elbows. I moaned in pain, in frustration. I reached up to my ears, feeling for my earpiece. Nothing. It must’ve fallen out. Fuck.

I laid there, in the rain, not moving. Feeling the rain pitter patter on my body, broken in places I was too tired to look at. I closed my eyes, trying to think. Think. What needs doing? How, how to get to safety? Reciting an old chalisa to keep my nerves steady.

My ears picked up something, but I was too occupied to turn my head and look. And then, I was too tired, too grateful, too in pain, to open my eyes. I let myself pass out, whimpering, grateful to the gods. Hoping.

*

Hot. I was hot, sweaty. Half asleep, I moved away the blanket on me. Scratchy. Scratchy blanket. Slowly, I pried myself from sleep. Sweet sweet sleep. Blinking, blinking, blinking into existence.

The sound of rain was still present. Faint, but there.

A mud world. Brown brown brown. A strange thing. I could see the mud moving still, up, down, sideways. A mud waterfall? fountain?

I peeled my shirt off. Groggy still. Maybe I’m dreaming, I reasoned.

‘Here, soup’

I took the mug absentmindedly and sipped, and then opened my mouth and fanned. Too hot, too hot, too hot. Laughter, pretty pearly laughter. I smiled up lazily and then — hot, too hot — the soup spilled all over me.

‘Tch. Supplies are hard to get, you know’, they said.

I couldn’t tell their gender, or lack of. Human shaped, but glowing, gelatinous, so many colors.

‘You’re staring’

‘Oh, sorry’

I moved my eyes to the floor, adjusting to this new reality. Is this reality? Maybe I died. Maybe I’m in some warped coma. Fucking hell.

‘I’m Kya. My nanites are at full capacity, because of the storm. So my genes are overactive, best chances of survival.’

‘What?’

‘I’m a runner. Just, with bio-eingineering. Gene splicing. That sort of thing.’

‘What?’ I blinked up at them.

‘Are you slow?’ they frowned.

I thought about it. ‘Yes, usually’.

They smiled slowly, a slight smirk. I tried to smile back.

‘I’m a runner, contractor. But for storms. Like, I collect bio data and stuff, when the tides roll in. I used to be a regular runner, but I got injured. I was out of the field for the bit, but got a new gig. They paid for the upgrade.’

‘An upgrade’, I repeated.

‘Yeah. You want more soup? Like, as long you don’t drop it again’

‘Yes, I would love soup. That sounds great. This is definitely soup weather’ I babbled.

‘Cool. Coming right up. And, dry clothes are beside you, if you wanted to get changed.’

They turned around to the kettle.

I wasn’t sure what was going on still. But I stood up and rolled down the rest of my clothes. Wet wet wet. Down to the bone, down to fully soaked underwear. Nice.

I towelled off and then put on a t-shirt, three sizes too big, and sweatpants, hoodie. I examined the bandaging though. Goopy, like Kya.

Left leg, including my foot. Right knee. Left shoulder. I felt it on my face, too. Left cheek, a big patch of goopy goop. I wondered if I would turn to goop too. I decided to ask.

‘The bandaging. Will it make my body like yours?’

They turned to hand me the mug, eyeing me up and down. ‘No, they just speed up the healing’

‘Hmm’ I nodded and tucked in. I wasn’t feeling pain, and I could move, so it must be true. The soup was good, warm and soft and sweet and salty. Mmm, I smiled to myself.

‘Do you have a radio?’, I asked ‘I wanted to know the status. My friend J was announcing today, so. It would be nice. To have a familiar voice.’

Kya nodded and pulled up an old transistor. Crackly, but we caught the end of the transmission. 3 day event, expect flooding. Camp may move further up the coast. He sounded tired. Then the auto-messaging came on. Coordinates and what not, bookended by old songs.

I put the mug down and looked around the room. Bare mud walls, still moving in places. A dome room. Little folding table, with the kettle and radio. The bed I was sitting on was an old cart, with an old duvet for a mattress. One of those thick, heavy vintage ones. My bike and bags were piled in the corner. In the centre of the room, there was a ring of some sort. Fancy looking, with lights. Kya was hunched over in their folding chair, fiddling with something. Circuits, I recognized.

I laid back down to rest. To think.