“Soon, my brothers! Soon The Water Collector will return with my gift to you. This year we have flourished, under my guidance. To many more years of prosperity, brothers!”
He rallies the village for a celebration that will never occur. Each day we revisit the same struggle to survive. The rumble of the Auto is the only thing that can silence The Chief. The metal machine sweeps into the village to bring the people their reward. As it sits idling, sun shining on the rust, people gather behind it with bottles in outstretched arms, trying to catch the now flowing water. The spigot is open, and the water is being drained into barrels. The hopefuls looking to get some extra are quickly shooed away. I stand alone, and watch The Water Collector step out. He’s the second oldest man in the village, next to The Chief. His dusty, grey beard and deep eyes conceal his expression. His condition mirrors the Auto: worn, but strong. He walks off to his house alone while others enjoy the fruits of his labor. He alone knows where the water comes from. To me, beyond the horizon is endless sand, but he seems to find the water on time each month. As I begin to walk over to the spigot where the crowd is now dispersing, I’m startled by The Chief as his bony fingers dig into my neck.
“You’re nineteen now,
“I guess I am, sir.” I mumble.
“Well, that’s a terrible attitude,
“You’re going to be envied by the entire village!”
I can’t find the breath to respond. I can’t believe The Chief’s decision. I have never been a good citizen. On more than one occasion I’ve been asked to leave the village, and it’s only because of the mercy of The Chief I’m still here. I’ve cheated, stole, and slighted other people in my village. I am the black sheep of my own family. My father is the appointed slaver of The Chief, which earns me no respect among the village. The other boys in the village play games and pranks, and I watch the unchanging backdrop of sand. They treat me like an unwanted cousin. They merely allow me to exist so that they can mock me behind my back. The girls in the village, well − I don’t know any of the girls in the village. I don’t know why I had just been given the most important job in the village. It doesn’t make any sense to me. The Chief’s deceitful eyes burrow into me. Water drips out of the corners of his mouth.
“Run along, now. Tell your father that his son is the new water collector!” he says.
“Yes, sir.”
The news is greeted with disbelief is my house. My father beats me half to death before he accepts that I’m telling the truth. He then demands I tell him why I was chosen.
“Why don’t you just ask The Chief? It was his decision.” This obvious answer further infuriates my father. His beatings, he says, will “harden me into a real man.” Clearly he wasn’t beaten hard enough. Only my bed accepts my tired, thirsty body. The dry, papery sheets are always honest. Sleep overcomes me as faint voices argue in the next room.
I am awakened to the sound of a busy house. My family is rushing to get to their jobs, and my mother has already begun cleaning. I see a half-empty plate of goat meat and I choose to leave without eating or speaking, as I usually do, to begin my first day as an adult.
The Water Collector’s house consists of nothing more than a few tin walls and one window. I knock on the door, and it opens.
“Hello, sir. I’m Arnold, the new water collector.”
A shallow grunt escapes his mouth, and he leads me inside. “Do you like living in the village, Arnold?” I’ve never heard him speak before, and his handsome voice surprises me.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
He gestures for me to sit, and I do so immediately. He pauses for a long time. “Do you know what I do?” he asks.
“You get the water for the village, and bring it back in the Auto.”
“What would people do without that water,
“They would die of thirst.”
He leans back in his chair and scratches his beard.
“What’s outside the village?” I ask.
He shuts his eyes, almost forcefully. He leans forward aggressively and puts his hands on his knees. “There’s nothing out there, kid. It’s all sand. Forever.”
I muster up some courage and open my mouth. “Well, where does the water come fro−”
“Only I know where the water is, kid. Remember that.” We both sit staring at a tin can for an uncomfortably long time. The wind makes it quiver on the floor, its contents rolling around inside.
“That’s enough questions, kid. Tomorrow I’m taking you to where the water is. Now get outta here. I enjoy no one’s company.”
I look up at the afternoon sun as I walk home. Everyone sweats and stains their shirts endlessly. The herder’s goats are worked to death, and then eaten. The farmer tries to make anything but weeds grow in a small patch of dry soil. Each villager toils until their will is broken, and then haunts the village like a ghost. They are useless, and silent. The villagers know if they do not obey The Chief, they will be denied water, and that means death or madness. Madmen are exiled by The Chief to wander the wastes, contemplating whether death is preferable to our meager existence here. Unfortunately, that decision has been made for them.
Among the dust cloud the shacks and houses stand rebelliously. The sand wants them to collapse, to assimilate into nothingness. The world seems to want nothing but perfect symmetry, and we are a blemish.
The adults in the village are staring at me as I walk home. The children kick up dust at me and shout meaningless strings of obscenities.
“Fucker!”
“Shithead!”
“Only a freak like you could be the next water collector!”
I feel truly envied by the village.
I don’t feel much like sleeping, so I count the holes in the wall. Eight. Eight beams of moonlight piercing my only shelter. A torn, burned book lies in my lap. It’s filled with symbols no one remembers how to read. I’ve read it since I was a child, reveling in its mystery. I squeeze some drops of water out of my pouch onto my lips, and one falls to the floor. I watch it disappear slowly into the sand and fall asleep.
---
I sit down for breakfast and am greeted by an unfamiliar voice.
“We all do what we must, so that we can drink,” my mother whispers.
I stare at her wrinkled eyes, and am filled with the urge to cry. I have rarely heard my mother speak in recent years, but her words are genuine. I don’t know anyone who is always genuine. I wipe my face with a rag and stumble out the door. The hairs on my neck stand on end as I approach The Water Collector’s house. I stand at the doorway and my eyes glaze over. The room is completely empty. A shrill noise diverts my attention to the rear of the house. The Auto is rumbling, and The Water Collector is leaning on one of many steel drums, some filled with a thick liquid and I reach into the nearest open one to fill my pouch.
“I don’t think you wanna drink that, kid,” he calls out, chuckling. His smile is unsettling and is filled with a kind of bitter irony. A harsh smell is coming from the barrel, and I can see my face reflected in its black surface.
“Come on, we want to get there before midday. Get in.”
I hoist myself into the massive machine. An array of blinking lights and familiar but unreadable characters lay before me. A spinning piece of jagged metal blows cool air through my hair. Something makes me feel guilty, and my skin is feeling itchy. The Water Collector is sitting next to me now, staring with the same grin from before. He leads me through a series of button-pushing and pulling, and without warning, the Auto begins to move.
“Now turn it the way you want to go, and don’t press the foot-button too hard now,” he says, still grinning.
As we move out of the village, I see my father talking to The Chief, and he pretends not to notice me. I never wanted to be noticed. That’s why I’m The Water Collector. I couldn’t do anything else. I am alone.
Once outside the village, the sand surrounds the Auto like a haze. The Water Collector isn’t smiling anymore, and he gives me one more simple direction.
“That way.”
After watching the silhouette of the village disappear behind us, any initial pleasure from driving the Auto quickly vanishes. The Water Collector is still staring at me, but he isn’t smiling anymore.
“Why don’t you steal from people anymore?” he asks.
“The Chief forbids stealing, sir.”
“Well, why do you listen to him now? Your balls drop off?” I can’t seem to find an appropriate response to that question.
“He took away my water privileges for two days,” I finally say. “I was so thirsty, I wrung out sweat from my own clothes to drink”
His stare is unwavering.
“Well, you’ll get plenty of water now, kid. You’re The Water Collector now. I’m just a tired old man,” he grumbles. “Your troubles are over.” He is smiling again.
A black cloud appears in the horizon, and I have to wipe my eyes before I accept that it’s real. I can’t find the voice to ask him if they’re real or not. It’s not like the other clouds. It’s moving toward us. As it passes overhead, I see a million creatures, all moving in unison, walking across the sky. My eyes look back at the horizon, and I am overcome. I must be going mad. My vision goes black, and I hear The Water Collector curse as he takes the controls away from me.
---
Ice cold water hits my face, and brings me into full consciousness. I’m laying on the ground now.
“Must’ve had a bit of a heat spell, huh kid?”
“I don’t think so, sir.” I pause and rub my eyes hard, almost violently. “Was that real?”
“See for yourself.”
I look out, and see an expanse of water that stretches as far as I can see. More water than I’ve ever seen. More water than I could ever drink. Enough water for the village to live comfortably forever. I wipe my eyes again, and this time, they are filled with tears.
“Why does it have to be like this?” I ask.
The Water Collector has anticipated answering this question his entire life.
“The world has ended before, kid. I’m not going to be the one to end it again. Peace has a price, even if you don’t know you’re paying it.” He pauses and looks at the sky.
“We are the foulest beasts to ever walk this earth, and The Chief has tamed us with a simple, undeniable desire.”
---
The water sloshes around in the back of the Auto. Each noise, each rattling in the machine causes me to cringe. It’s one of the hottest days in memory, and they’re all waiting for The Water Collector to return. I now know why I was chosen by The Chief. The Chief chose me because I can live a life of alienation and lying. No one would believe me even if I told them the truth. The Chief has chosen my job, and it suits me perfectly. If this world is our own creation, then we must be caged, and I need to hold the key. I drag my free hand across my face. “I think I’ll grow a beard,” I say to myself.
I try to stay focused on driving, but I look back and see him shrink out of view. The water is reduced to a line. And then, nothing. The horizon is dominated by sand, and for once, the world is in perfect symmetry.
heard enough. We thanked him, and he returned to his post atop a stool, and under a bottle. We continued our conversation, saving the discussion concerning this man's sanity until later.
