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gargle of the river
and the crickets chirping in the grass. Then the music begins, silencing all
other sounds and sending a jolt of energy through the crowd. The fiddlers bend
and sway to the rhythm of the tune while people dance around the bonfire,
clapping their hands in the air.  
    The sky is
pitch black, and only a handful of bright stars twinkle above the yellow haze
of the Gaijins’ factory. It’s the time when the owls come out and the scavenger
droids retreat back into the gorge. The solar panels charging their batteries
are useless without the sun, and, as soon as night falls, their frames fold up
into a cube and the droids become inactive.
    The
perfect time for the Mayakes to come out and frolic.
    I sit on
the stairs outside the Tower and watch the festivities take place. Three of the
eight babies born last year survived past their first year of age, and today
we’re celebrating Janmad, their first year of life. Lukas and his uncle Akari
are among the fiddlers, swinging their bows and stomping their feet to the
rhythm of the music.
    Wes
shuffles away from the crowd and sits next to me, holding a jug of
Beiji—our Mayake brewed malt beer.
    Wow . “Is it such a special day that
even minors are allowed to have Beiji?”
    Wes shrugs
and takes a long swig. “Tahari said to go for it. He wants us all to have fun
and get drunk tonight. What’s not to like?” He flashes a disapproving glance at
me. “Why aren’t you having some?”
    I shake my
head. “I’m not in the mood for festivities. We were this close to getting the
droid down this morning and failed.”
    A full
droid, not just some pieces here and there. The technology we would’ve
harvested from a gigantic machine like that would’ve been unthinkable. We
could’ve made not just weapons, but also restored old prostheses for people in
need and created new ones.
    And yet I
seem to be the only one concerned with such matters. I’m appalled that Tahari
hasn’t canceled this childish party. Frankly, I’m wondering if our leader has
any backbone. Only a few weeks ago we learned that one of our best men was in
fact a murderer. We’re traditionally meek and peaceful, and uncovering a
traitor among our own has been a harsh wake-up call. We can’t survive on our
resources alone, and the situation has become so desperate that we’re turning
against one another. Without new technology we’re bound to extinction. We’re
dominated by the Gaijins, the enemies who defeated our ancestors and stole our
resources. In an inspirational speech, Tahari, our Kiva leader, faced the truth
about our fate and declared our only option: go to war with the Gaijins.
    If the
Mayake people are to die, they shall die fighting their common enemy, not one
another.
    But then,
in an odd twist of events, Tahari took his statement back a week later with the
excuse that we need to have an army to go to war, and we don’t even have
weapons. Which is exactly why the Gaijins can hold us down with a handful of
droids roaming our land.
    As a
reaction, our leaders instituted the Kiva challenge—a call for action to
all Mayakes to make the best weapon prototype.
    Wes takes
a long pull of his Beiji. “Did your mom come out?”
    I shake my
head.
    “Neither
did mine. She misses Dad too much and can’t stand seeing people dancing and
singing.”
    “Same with
my mom,” I reply. “She can’t get over it.”
    “I’m
sorry,” Wes mumbles.
    “Yeah. Me
too.”
    Wes scans
the happy faces dancing around the crackling fire and chugs more of his beer.
“At least the people who did come seem to be having fun.”
    I drum my
fingers on my knees. “Makes me wonder, really. Is anybody taking the challenge
seriously?”
    “They
are,” Wes replies, pointing a finger past the bonfire.
    I spot a
shiny face scowling at me through the smoke.
    “Metal
Jaw?” I say.
    Wes nods.
“Yup. Apparently they have something to show tonight. It’ll be the peak of the
festivities.”
    “What
festivities?” I