The middle refrain from Cantata Nº 208 played over a loudspeaker in the barn. The sheep fidgeted in the corner taking turns climbing on each other’s backs. A line of ewes stood apart from the herd staring at Xabier who sat at the workbench pondering the music as he fiddled with bits of wire. Bach intended the piece as a hunting song. Its true meaning rang in Xabier’s ear as he read. Soon he had thought of a way to expose the hunters.
From his knapsack, Xabier retrieved a crust of sourdough bread and a jar of jelly made from some red berries that reminded him of pomegranate seeds. The jelly reminded him of the taste of Earth apples. He thought about his mother making jelly. Long dead, he presumed. He didn’t understand the reason why, but when he signed up for this job he was told time took on a different meaning here. Although he aged barely…
Tin, ting, tin, tang rang the bells of Cantata Nº 208. The boy rubbed sleep from his eyes and covered them to block the dancing sunlight streaming through a slit. He slipped on boots, a filter, and gloves. The red sun inched across the sky and it would be half a Earth-month before nightfall. Without the chimes, he might have missed feeding time. Small frame, calloused hands, a full head of sandy-brown hair, he looked…