The Awakening

The first thing Sigrid noticed was the smell.

Not wind. Not prairie grass. Not the soft green breath of leaves after rain.

Oil.

Hot metal.

And something faintly fried drifting through the air.

She opened her eyes slowly.

Above her stretched a sky cut into pieces by black wires strung between tall wooden poles. Beyond them stood rows of brick houses lined up shoulder to shoulder like patient soldiers.

Sigrid sat up.

This was wrong.

The prairie had been here. Endless grass that whispered in the wind. A few scattered trees. A farmhouse somewhere in the distance where humans kept their cattle.

She looked around again.

Now there were streets.

Stone sidewalks.

Houses everywhere.

“Ah,” she said quietly.

“The humans have been busy.”

Sigrid brushed the dust from her pale dress and stepped onto the sidewalk.

A metal sign on a pole read:

LONG AVE

She studied it thoughtfully.

“Long… what?”

No one answered.

So she began walking.

The Grocery Store

Long Avenue was quiet.

Small front yards. A few trees. Rows of houses with the faint smell of cooking drifting through open windows.

A block down the street she stopped.

A wide window filled the front of a brick building. Painted letters across the glass read:

LONG FOOD MARKET

Sigrid stepped closer and peered inside.

Shelves filled with jars, boxes, and cans stretched across the room.

Curious, she pushed open the heavy glass door and stepped inside.

The store smelled of bread, fruit, and something sharp and metallic.

People moved slowly between the aisles pushing metal baskets on little wheels.

At the back of the store a long glass counter held rows of animals.

Or pieces of animals.

Pink ones.

Red ones.

Some wrapped in paper. Some not.

Behind the counter a thick-armed man in a white apron was cutting something with a long knife.

He looked up.

“Help you?”

Sigrid stepped closer to the glass.

“Why are they sleeping in there?”

The butcher blinked.

“They’re not sleeping.”

“But they are very cold.”

“That’s a freezer.”

She leaned closer, studying the rows carefully.

“Why have you cut them into pieces?”

The butcher—Casey—set down his knife.

“Well… that’s how meat works.”

Sigrid straightened.

“And after you cut them apart, what do you do with them?”

“We sell them.”

“Sell them… to whom?”

“People.”

She thought about this very seriously.

Then she asked the question that clearly troubled her most.

“Why?”

Casey stared at her for several seconds.

Finally he sighed.

“Lady… you from Wisconsin or something?”

Sigrid nodded politely.

“Thank you.”

And she walked out of the store.

Casey watched her leave.

Then he turned to the cashier.

“You see that?”

The cashier shrugged.

“Probably theater people.”

Toward Foster Avenue

Outside, the world felt louder.

Machines rushed past on the street like restless metal animals.

Sigrid walked south until the houses ended and a wider road opened ahead of her.

A stone church stood on the corner.

That part made sense.

Humans always built temples.

She crossed the street and read another sign.

FOSTER AVE

A bus roared toward the curb and stopped with a long mechanical sigh.

The doors folded open.

One by one the humans stepped down onto the sidewalk.

The last man paused beside the bus stop, took a thin white stick from his pocket, and lit it.

Sigrid recognized the scent immediately.

Tobacco.

Humans had burned that leaf long before she slept.

But this smoke was different.

Sharpened somehow.

Rushed.

It smelled less like earth and sun and more like something machines had hurried along.

The man inhaled deeply and walked away.

Sigrid watched him go.

“Still burning leaves,” she murmured softly.

“Only faster.”

Cars shot past the strange bend in the road where Foster curved through Lovejoy and Gettysburg before straightening again.

Engines whined as drivers took the turn too quickly.

Sigrid waited until the traffic thinned and crossed toward the corner where a small restaurant called King’s 2 sat beside a flower shop.

The air smelled of grilled onions and fresh flowers.

She turned slowly, studying everything.

“Where,” she asked quietly, “did the prairie go?”

No one answered.

Toward Milwaukee Avenue

She followed the sound of engines and distant trains toward a larger street lined with shops.

Cars rolled past.

Buses came and went.

People hurried along the sidewalks with grocery bags and newspapers tucked under their arms.

Sigrid stood at the corner watching them for a long time.

“Humans,” she whispered softly.

“You have become very strange.”

Somewhere farther down Milwaukee Avenue, another ancient spirit had also awakened.

But Sigrid did not know that yet.

Not until she reached Gale Street.