“The world looks resilient to humans because we live fast, distracted lives. We do not feel the planet spinning beneath our feet. We do not have much firsthand experience with systemic fragility. Many of the cataclysms we know of are locked safely behind the glass of the fossil record. Stone seems solid and the seas appear immutable. It is an illusion. Yes, the Earth is resilient, but ecosystems? Ecosystems are a green film above a thin layer of soil. So many species, including us, hang in the sky like hot-air balloons. A simple fire. A sheet of nylon separating the warm air from the cool, producing lift. We think nothing will disturb these systems because we do not remember them being disturbed. We have been in the basket of the balloon all our lives.”
Green looked at her death’s mask face and wondered if these would be his last, defining memories of his brief mentor.
“I know that ecosystems can be fragile. I’m talking about you. I’m talking about not exhausting all the options available to us.”
“And I’m trying to get you to understand that the glass fawn isn’t just an individual threat, nor is it a slow accumulation of greenhousegases. It is not arctic ice melt or a warming sea. We work in the realm of ecologies built on the backs of single organisms. What is the glass fawn in terms of that framework? A thing from outside our reality that tore a hole in the world to get in.”
“You’re saying Catskill is failing to stop a dangerous trespasser. I get it.”
A strange, territorial anger flashed across Green’s mind like heat lightning.
Valentina started limping toward her pack.
“No, I don’t think he is failing to chase a fox away from a chicken coop. I think he is failing to turn away a dagger sinking toward the heart of life in these mountains. And it is quite possible I am thinking too small. Nature does not let the glass fawn stay in our world. Not anywhere. Biology doesn’t tend to produce globally observable needless behaviors.”
Dread, certain as the mountain, dug a well in Green’s core and dropped stone after stone into its echoing depths.
Plunk.
Plunk.
Plunk.
“If we just had a little more time.”
“Mr. Green, every breath hurts now. I have endured and spoken and explained this much to reflect my very high opinion of you and your potential, but this needs to be over and done.”
She dragged her pack close to the warming fire.
There was nothing left to say. He bit back empty protests and nodded at his teacher. He looked up and saw that Alf, Jerome, and Casper were all staring at them, listening to their conversation.
Alf stood, unsteady, clutching a bottle in both hands.
“I’m…I’m real sorry.”
Valentina turned to him.
“So am I.”
She stood in the firelight and reached trembling, frostbitten handstoward the flames. Jerome set aside his guitar, stood, and wordlessly lifted her pack. Casper helped her feed stiff, unresponsive arms through the straps.
“Perhaps I am on my way to stand beneath that antique sky once more. Perhaps even a reunion with old friends. Stranger things have happened. I never tested the anomaly with a living animal. Its effect on me may not mimic a pine log. It’s impossible to know.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Then started again.
“Mr. Green, I cannot honestly say that I expect we will meet again, but I can honestly say I hope we do.”
He forced on a smile, then a landslide of terror hit him like a wave of shattered stone.
It’s coming.
It’s coming.
It’s coming.
Catskill burst through the door of Green’s mind. There was a fleeting image of the fawn blurring across the landscape, stretching to the horizon like spilled watercolors, outstripping its own afterimage. Then the light all collapsed into the distance and it was gone. Terribly, utterly gone.
Green staggered and fell to his knees, returning to himself just as his teeth cracked together.
