Dream d1997-s: The City Reads Clean

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where we walked Ospreycrossing's outer ring in the thin hour before grey light became proper morning.

Lano ranged ahead, nose working at the base of every gate-post, tail a steady flag. Rurik walked the top of the low fence bordering the lamping district, his paws finding grip on the frost-rimed rail, amber eyes forward, shoulder blades moving in the unhurried way that means the ground reads safe.

The Lamplighter met us at the third junction, a person whose role was written in the calluses at their thumb-joint and the oil-cloth slung at the hip. They were finishing rounds, capping the night wicks with practiced turns of the wrist. The Builder watched without speaking until the Lamplighter reached the last post, then said: "Clean seating on all the housings. How old are the mounts?"

The Lamplighter said a number in years that surprised us. The Builder nodded and wrote something short in her margin notes.

We found the Gate Archivist in the Hall of Petitions, a long vaulted room smelling of cedar and cold stone. She sat behind a table stacked with rolled paper, each roll marked with a color at the end. The Weather Reader asked about the markings. The Archivist explained: blue for resolved, red for open, grey for waiting on the outside.

"The outside meaning us?" I asked.

"The outside meaning anyone who arrives," she said. She was not unkind. She handed the Weather Reader a grey-marked roll without being asked. The Weather Reader took it in both hands and unrolled it partway. She read the top line and nodded once.

We found the Night Foreman just as the grey went thin and the first real light caught the eaves of the forge hall. He was coming off shift, hands wrapped in cloth, recording something on a board by the door. Lano sat at his feet, quieta, and watched his writing hand. He gave her a small piece of dried something from his coat pocket. She accepted it with the gravity of a dog who has decided to be patient.

The Foreman said the forge ran through the cold hours because stone held heat longer when you started before dawn. He said it the way people say things that are simply true. The Builder said it was good practice. He agreed that it was.

I wrote three things in the book of readings: clean joints, open petitions, the fire started early.

The city, read up close on day two, reads clean.