Catharsis, Legend of the Lemurians (2 page)

Despite such meager conditions, the Uglies
seemed not to fret. They lived in their simple little huts, growing
crops and caring for their young. They had to work very hard to
survive, and because of that, they didn’t have much time to look
after themselves. Their features and their bodies weren’t perfect
to begin with (at least according to Catharsians), plus they had no
time at all to beautify them. Even if they did, there wasn’t
anything in the entire Camp Ugly with which to beautify
themselves.

Instead of spending whatever little free
time they had on vanity, the Uglies usually got together to sing
and dance as they prayed to Mu, the Mother of All, for the good of
Uglies and Catharsians alike. They sang beautiful songs about
peace, love, and…beauty. Their singing was so entrancing that even
the guards couldn’t help but listen, and some even shed a tear or
two. It seemed these songs came straight out of their souls, which
stood wide open for the whole world to see. And if anyone cared to
look inside those souls, which Catharsians certainly didn’t, they’d
see how truly beautiful the Uglies were.

Catharsians and Uglies alike dreaded the
last day of each month. The thing was, there were certain needs the
Uglies had that could not be fulfilled inside Camp Ugly. For
example, they had to get certain supplies they couldn’t get
otherwise. There were also certain errands to run, like getting
medicine for the old and ailing. A hundred of designated Uglies,
called Runners, were allowed to leave the camp on that day to
obtain supplies for everyone else, because Catharsians considered
it below their dignity to run errands for the Uglies. It was bad
enough that they had to maintain the electric fence and guard them
day and night!

The Runners were chosen each month from the
strongest and most courageous of the Uglies. As usual, the night
before the trip, all able-bodied Uglies gathered around the
campfire to sing their beautiful songs as a good luck wish for the
chosen ones. That night, the Runners got the choicest pieces of
food from the Uglies’ scarce table and went to bed early, to
preserve their strength before the arduous endeavor. The next
morning, at the break of the red dawn, they said farewell to their
tearful families, and left.

The entire population of Camp Ugly gathered
to say a final goodbye as the camp’s tall electric gate opened up,
and promptly closed again behind them. As their eyes followed the
departing Runners, their lips moved, as the Uglies whispered
prayers to the Goddess Mu to keep their brave men safe, because it
was well known (and even expected) that not all of them would be
back.

The Runners were considered heroes among
their own, and they proudly sacrificed themselves for the good of
all.

Morf was sixteen when he first volunteered
to become a Runner. His mother was against it, but his father who
had been doing the Runner duty for a while, was in no condition to
go. His right leg was badly damaged after the latest model Elpet
attacked him during his last run. Morf’s native village, located in
Sector No. 5 of Camp Ugly and comprised of one hundred twenty
households, had too many women and children, but not enough strong,
young men. Most of the older men sustained injuries from past
expeditions, but someone still had to procure supplies, clothes and
medicine. Morf took after his father, growing tall and
strong—stronger and taller than most Uglies. At sixteen, he towered
over his mother, and at that point Morf knew, it was his turn to
become a Runner.

At seventeen, this was already his sixth
run. He kissed and hugged his weeping mother and his limping father
goodbye, made sure he had his water bottle, and carefully examined
his gear. The gear every Runner carried along consisted of two huge
sacks, which they would load up with as much stuff as they could
gather during their expedition, and two sturdy purses strapped to
their waists, in which they would carry the most valuable items,
like medicine. Morf also carried two backpacks, one upfront, and
another in the back. Some Runners were so adept that they even
strapped additional small bags to their legs and arms. Equipped
this way, each of them looked like a walking, talking clothes
hanger.

To Morf, the fully loaded Runner resembled
what Catharsians called “a decorated New Year’s tree.” During one
of his previous runs he had seen a real New Year’s tree after it
was thrown out into garbage. Even in the garbage the tree looked
very beautiful. The Uglies didn’t have any trees. The wasteland
where their camp was located was dry and barren, with only one
small river, which was hardly enough to water their crops. No water
could be spared on luxuries like the trees and even bathing was a
problem.

Morf desperately wanted to pick up that New
Year’s tree and bring it back to the village so the children could
enjoy it. But it was too big to haul all the way back. In the end,
he had to sacrifice the tree for crucial necessities, like food,
clothes and medicine.

The thing was, Runners had to carry
everything they were able to gather on their person. They couldn’t
bring carts, because the carts would slow them down. It was very
important to be fast on your feet. In fact, sometimes it could mean
the difference between life and death.

Morf waited for his companion Dorf, a
veteran Runner from his village. Three other Runners from the
neighboring villages soon joined them, and all five disappeared
behind the tall gate. Five men was the optimal size for the Runner
team. Any more and it would be harder to find enough stuff for
everyone. On the other hand, it was certainly not advisable to
travel alone. Thar, the capital of Catharsis, was a very safe city,
but not for the Uglies.

Thar’s stores and pharmacies carried
signs:

NO UGLIES ALLOWED

So, it would normally take Runners all day and a lot
of ingenuity to try and find a place where they could get necessary
supplies. It certainly didn’t help that they had to do all of their
errands on foot, since they had no money to buy the beautiful motor
carriages Catharsians drove. But the Uglies were a resourceful
bunch. If they couldn’t buy what they needed, they’d dive into
garbage disposal bins, where they’d usually find perfectly good
food, almost new clothes, and even medicine well before its
expiration date, thrown out by the demanding Catharsians. They’d
never admit it, but Catharsians actually loved it when Uglies
picked up the unwanted food and clothes from their trash. Garbage
wasn’t beautiful at all, and the more of it the Uglies removed, the
better.

As Morf and his four companions walked around the
city, the locals spit and cursed at them, and children threw
stones. Some even sicked Elpets on them as they passed.

Morf knew: this was how his father became a cripple.
The attack of an Elpet was especially hard to run away from when
the Runner was already on his way back to the camp after an
exhausting day, hungry and tired, and loaded with all the stuff he
was able to carry. No Catharsian would give the tired Ugly a glass
of water to quench his thirst or a bite to eat, while smells of
delicious cooking from the nearby houses would make his stomach
growl even worse.

That unfortunate day, his father was lucky enough to
stumble upon a great stash of clothes and food thrown out by
Catharsians, and he was loaded with more stuff than usual. When a
Catharsian commanded his Elpet to attack him, he didn’t have the
strength to run. As a result, his leg was badly mauled.

His father’s case wasn’t an exception. More
often than not, Runners would return home bleeding and bruised from
all the stones thrown at them and injuries inflicted on them during
the day. But they never responded to such abuse. They always smiled
politely and never fought back.

Morf’s run started without any problems.
However, late in the afternoon, things got out of control as they
encountered a particularly mean group of Catharsians. Several of
them stood talking when the Uglies passed by, loaded to the hilt
with their sacks and backpacks.

The Uglies politely greeted Catharsians.
“Good day,” they said with particularly broad smiles. The Runners
simply couldn’t help their smiles. The day had gone well, so far no
one had attacked them, and the haul was good. By all accounts, it
was turning out to be a very successful run, and very soon they
would be returning home.

But for some reason, this simple greeting
infuriated the natives. One of them had an Elpet on a leash—a large
and particularly vicious looking model. Its owner quickly released
the leash and commanded through clenched teeth, “Attack.”

The Elpet immediately sprang into action,
covering the distance separating it from the Uglies in several
giant leaps. Morf was first to notice the move.

“Run as fast as you can!” he yelled to his
friends and nimbly sprinted off, hoping the other Runners would
follow. Morf could run very fast and for a very long time due to
his long legs and strength, and despite his heavy load. He ran like
this for a few seconds and glanced back. Three of his friends
managed to escape, but Dorf was in huge trouble. The first thing
Morf noticed was that another Elpet joined the attack, and the two
of them ganged up on the tired Dorf. He was helplessly sprawled on
the ground, as both Elpets went for his leg and throat. Morf ran
back as quickly as his legs would carry him, frantically waving his
hands in the air in order to distract the Elpets from their
victim.

“Here, I am here!” he kept yelling, jumping
up and down. “Go after me, I have more flesh to bite into. Leave
him alone, he is all skin and bones!”

The Elpets, either distracted by his yelling
or his waving arms, detached their bloody faces from Dorf and
instead, started after Morf.

Meanwhile, the other Runners were returning
to help. “Help Dorf, I’ll distract them!” Morf yelled, running for
his life. He ran as he’d never run before, and despite their best
efforts, the Elpets were unable to catch him. After pursuing him
for ten or fifteen blocks, the Elpets stopped, issuing disappointed
squeals. They slowly turned around and returned to their owners.
Breathing heavily, Morf stopped too and waited for his companions.
They finally appeared, supporting the badly mauled Dorf. Morf
loaded himself with Dorf’s stuff, and took some of the load off the
other Runners’ backs, so they could carry their bleeding companion.
Dorf’s breath was coming out in labored spasms. As he walked almost
doubled over under his load, Morf knew his friend was in very bad
shape. It seemed clear that without urgent treatment he might not
reach the camp.

As they passed the square that Morf knew
very well, he quickly said, “Wait here,” and dashed across the
square, not even bothering to take the load off his shoulders. His
destination was the local pharmacy, which he’d visited before. The
owner of that pharmacy, an old Catharsian woman, was unlike other
Catharsians. During his first run, she gave him a jar of ointment
to treat his wound after he’d been bitten by an Elpet in front of
her store. Another time, she gave him some food. He frantically
knocked on the pharmacy door.

The door opened and the woman appeared. “You
better leave,” she said, frowning. “I have nothing for you today.”
Her head was nervously turning left and right, as if she was afraid
someone might catch her talking to an Ugly.

“Please, I really need your help!” pleaded
Morf.

“I can’t help you.”

“But you helped me before!”

“And as a result, I lost most of my
customers,” responded the woman bitterly.

“Please,” said Morf, “don’t turn me down! I
am very sorry you lost your customers. I am very sorry your act of
kindness didn’t generate the kind of reward you deserved. I will
pray for your happiness to Goddess Mu every day of my life. But,
please, please help me this one last time, and I promise, I’ll
never ask you again. This is a matter of life and death!”

“What’s the matter?” asked the woman.

“See that man over there?” Morf pointed at
the bleeding Dorf, supported by his friends, all of whom waited
nervously on the other side of the square.

“What happened?”

“He was badly mauled by Elpets and is losing
a lot of blood. He won’t reach the camp, unless he gets treated
immediately.”

The woman contemplated Dorf for a moment,
and then disappeared inside. A moment later she reappeared with a
bag containing bandages, ointment and pain medicine.

“Here. Put ointment directly on the wounds.
Bandage the wounds immediately. Apply pressure to stop the
bleeding. Give him water and these pills. This is all I can do. Now
leave—and quickly.”

“Mu bless your kind heart!” said Morf with
feeling, sprinting back to his friends.

They found a quiet hidden spot where Morf
treated Dorf, carefully following the woman’s instructions. After
that, they resumed their trip back to Camp Ugly.

Once back inside the camp, Dorf was taken to the
infirmary, and the others deposited everything they were able to
collect in the center of the Gathering Square, so all could get
what they needed. As women and children excitedly dug through the
goodies, trying to find a new tunic to wear, or a piece of food to
spruce up their simple dinner, the rest of the Runners were treated
for their wounds. They never complained and stoically endured the
painful procedures; they were heroes of the day, and their people’s
happiness was all they required in return.

The story of how Morf saved the day spread like fire
around Camp Ugly. Everyone wanted to shake his hand and say how
proud they were. As was usual on the night after the run, the
Uglies had a lavish (by their standards) community dinner in the
Gathering Square. Along with the other Runners, Morf received the
best morsels of food and biggest chunks of bread. After everyone
was done, the Uglies sang their amazing songs, which penetrated
straight to one’s heart, if anyone cared to listen. But Catharsians
never listened to these songs, nor did they ever look beneath the
surface, and because of that they never knew how beautiful the
Uglies really were. The beauty of the Catharsians was all on the
outside, but the beauty of the Uglies was within.