Cycles Within Cycles

Dewdrops gathered on pyrevines wrapped around ancient bones, which stabbed upward from the cracked earth as the sun climbed above the horizon. The leaves glistened as the sunlight shone on the Garden for the first time this day, an effect that would soon fade as the illusion of moist air vanished. In every direction, sand blew across the arid wasteland of the desert in which these fossils found their home. Aside from the radius of lush, bronze wildlife surrounding the central point of the Fossil Garden, there was no vegetation for miles, nothing outside of this mystical oasis Szaka had been charged with keeping. He had devoted his life to the study and restoration of the desert, and when this prehistoric boneyard had been discovered, full of things which had lived and died eons before any desert tribesman had even been conceived, yet the only evidence of life in the wasteland of the Empty Sea, Szaka had known that it was a sign. A sign that their prayers were working. A sign that his people may yet be forgiven, and that they may saddle the wind once again. And so he had offered to tend the garden of bones, and to help it grow, all the while studying it, hoping it could be replicated elsewhere, and that the world around him could someday be restored to the way it was supposed to be.   Szaka had been awake through the night, tilling hard earth and spreading seed by starlight, as it was too hot to work during the day. When the sun was high in the sky, Szaka stayed in a cave nearby and analyzed the successes and failures of his past biological experiments. Mostly, they were failures. He had had some success once convincing a cave moss to grow within the garden, but after a short while it had outcompeted some of the native plant species and it had to be removed. Another time, he had purchased manure from a trader who claimed it was magic, and used it to fertilize the sands surrounding the oasis. At first, the garden had grown rapidly, but soon its growth slowed and the new plant life began to wither. The only experiment he was sure of was his prayer. So when he was not tending the garden, or sleeping - which he did very scarcely - he was in the deep prayer-trance of Midu, meditating deeply and reciting the chants of restoration.   Szaka lived alone at the Fossil Garden, and he would not permit himself to leave, but he did not live entirely alone. He had come to good terms with the few birds and lizards that called the oasis home, as well as a rattlesnake which lived in a burrow outside the entrance to his cave. He did not eat the scorpions and other insects which lived amongst him, and in repayment they did not bite or sting him. He even thought that some of the plants were aware of his being, as their flowers would not open until he had risen for the night. Of course, there were other humans that visited too, on rare occasions. Mostly pilgrims who had heard the wonders of the oasis, or old friends of his from the priesthood. Even less often, heretics would be forced to come to the garden and made to believe - as if to say, 'This here is your god, now tell me again that you do not believe.' One time, a mute man traveling by himself had stumbled upon the garden, made camp for the night, and drank from the oasis-water. Szaka had tried to speak to him at first, but once he understood the man's plight, they simply sat together in silence. The man left at sunrise without so much as a wave goodbye, and he had not returned since. Szaka did not know how long ago that had been now; it was hard to measure time here. Szaka often felt that time was an illusion, a trick of the gods to make a man feel compelled to act, before his time was up. He wondered if the fossils within the earth would rise up and greet him, their ancient forms brought back to life. He did not know what he would do if this happened, but he often wished that it would.