She's That Kind, Said Jenna

In a perfect world, the door she just slammed wouldn’t wake her brother from his sleep. The house would be hers, and she wouldn’t be having an upstairs neighbor that let their seven-year-old kid run around giving the ceiling those loud thumps at 11 p.m. on a Sunday night. But this wasn’t it. Not a perfect world, nor was it the one where she imagined a wise female empress ruling the system. This is the one where she had to walk home really paying attention to where she put her steps because she wouldn’t want to be stepping on a dog’s turd. Real story. This is the world where she only took short breaths, afraid of catching the familiar scent in the city, the pungent ammonia smell in every corner. 

Jenna pulled her hands from the red face. It was obvious that anger had formed as a shade of magenta on her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she let out a sigh along with the apology.

“What happened?” Heru dragged a chair on their IKEA dining set.

“I’m the one who should be asking the question,” she took a seat in front of her brother. Heru scratched his chin. 

“I broke Tedi’s hand.” 

“That part, I heard. Why?”

“He said you’re a bitch.”

Jenna scoffed. Laughed. And coughed. “Excuse me?”

“A bitch, Jenna. He said you’re a bitch?”

She grabbed a mug with I Heart Bali and sipped the coffee she left from the morning. “Well, I am. For many reasons,” Jenna let out another snort out of her mouth. The coffee she hadn’t fully swallowed spilled. “Oh, for God’s sake!” 

“Come on. Be an adult for once,” Heru studied his sister’s face. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you show her the mirror? You’re not following the deal.” 

Jenna dipped her finger inside the cold coffee. She put the finger on her mouth and tutted. 

“But what is Tedi’s problem with that?”

“Because you didn’t show the mirror to that human, Tedi’s sister has to work hard on fanning the other human. It was so hard for his sister to keep that human sane the whole time. And you, failing to open that other human’s eyes makes it harder for Tedi’s sister. Okay?”

She raised her chair and walked to the human-sized mirror in their entryway. Her eyes traced the outline of her own shape. Her horns grew taller these days. Jenna tossed a look at Heru. 

“You know why I let my human be blind to her own image?” Heru shook his head. “Alyssa’s human was the mirror, you know? If the confession she made doesn’t make my human see it, then she’s just that kind. Alright?”

“What kind?”

Jenna walked back to the dining table. She scanned her brother’s back. The wing had already shown. 

“The kind that makes other humans have a bad feeling just by the idea of having an immediate proximity with her. The kind that makes other humans cry on their way home. The kind that makes other humans pray so that their loved ones wouldn’t have to face the same situation she caused. The kind that humans are being taught so that they can prevent themselves from turning into that version. The kind that they just have to accept that they are, existing. Maybe so that others can learn. Or compare. Or, I don’t know, talk about it and feel better about themselves?”

“Yeah, what kind is that?”

She sat in front of her brother and nudged his chin. She stared deep into his eyes and let her raven-colored teeth peek from behind her lips. 

“The kind that I call my achievement.”

The Last Harvest | chapter 1: The Graduation part. 2

I used to like rain. The sound of it. The rain of September, especially. Now we can't really hear the sound of it sputtering on the rooftop. But the sound of rain falling on billions of corn leaves makes a pretty good substitute these days. It’s just not from here. It's just not from here, not from this building where I have to wear the white coat at least ten hours a day. And yet still, the sight of rain can make a decent amount of calm when I get to see how it makes the sky foggy. How it makes everything slow down, even stopped. At least for a while. 

Just this morning, without hesitation, that new kid Zaul brings to the school made another noise. The screeching sound that swallows only time I can get the peace around the building. All just because she keeps on forgetting about the snap. The stupid snap. 

I was passing the main gate when the alarm triggered by her. I think she saw me stealing a glimpse of that embarrassing scene. I have no clue now whether my success in avoiding eye contact with her will make her reluctant to approach me to walk together to the lab. And it’s not that I hate her, I just don’t like having her making sounds with the entire existence of her. Even when she’s not talking. 

Oh, here she comes with that squeaky sound of her rubber sole shoes. I don’t quite get why Zaul seems to be fond of her. Is it because she's from the area where rumor says Zaul originated? Because after all these months, I doubt that her sharp grading skill is going to be helpful without our entire work.

“Hey,” she started, slowing down to follow my pace.

”Another morning, another forgotten snap.” 

“Yeah, how did you manage to always make it look natural and easy?”

I saw her fixing the fold on her sleeves. A black line on her inner arm sneaking from under the messy fold she made. 

“Well I have been here longer, haven’t I?” 

I can hear that she tries to keep her reaction down now with that audible nod in between the annoying sound of her soles scratching the floor. 

I keep focusing on my steps, trying not to imitate the sound of Suri’s soles. Making sure I maintain an appropriate social distance while we walk straight to the lab. I know for a fact that the conservation of linear momentum dictates that any two bodies moving on a parallel path will eventually suffer small gravitational fluctuations—a measurable pull. To counteract the inevitable, minor drift that would narrow the gap between us before we hit the lab door, I subtly increase my velocity, ensuring I leave Suri precisely a meter behind.

“What will you present on graduation day?” She asks in a breathless voice. Proving that she’s trying to match my pace.

“I’m still figuring it out,” I said without turning my face and maintaining my movement velocity. “What about you?”

Oh my acres of corn farm. Why would you ask that? Now she is going to think that I care enough about that work of hers that I don’t really understand and that she must think I’m being friendly now. 

“You know, same. I’m still figuring it out.” 

Now her squeaking step stops. I turn my head before I open the door. She seems to try to sort some words in her head.

”What is it?”

”I was gonna ask you this yesterday in the field. I need your help,” she paused, avoiding my stare. 

“If, and this is only if you want and if I’m allowed to ask. I really need your help to assess the board that I’m planning to showcase. It’s not big on variables, I think you can give me some numbers just by giving it a glance.”

The sensor is beeping following my snap on the door.

”What kind of board?” 

Now she’s walking towards me. The door is opening. I give the room a little peek and I see Suri is now standing next to me. I can smell a hint of amber from the heat of her presence. 

“Show me later. Now I have some reports to finish.” 

Oh, not another slipped word, caused, I believe, by my brain pausing there from the scent of whatever perfume she wears. I can see the line on each side of the corner of her lips forming. My lord, she's smiling. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled a little with a light nod and walked past me to the lab.

”Alex!” Zaul calls from behind the big table. I show him a little upward curve from my lips. And a little nod. For some reason that I don’t know of.

I have been here for a while. Exactly like what I told Zaul’s little pet earlier. I may have been the daughter of Leandra, the precious founding member of Cytrus. But my presence here isn't because the place was reserved for me. In fact, the great Leandra was always against the idea of me joining the force.  Again, for some reason that I don’t know of.

When I graduated junior high in Jayapura, Cytrus was already the big conversation across the nation. Mom would always have these big bright eyes with pupils widened when she talked about it. But when I asked what exactly she did with Cytrus, she always just threw me a smile and said “You don’t need to understand it now”. 

When she always leaves me for weeks for work and promises to come back sooner than she did, I keep asking what it was that she couldn't neglect, I would get, 'That’s why you don’t need to know, my little turtle,' for an answer. And it was when I was 17 that I demanded her to stay longer for the holiday which she did but just until midnight. She left for the opening of this very building that I’ve been coming to for the last couple of years. That was the day that she started to have more time with me but everything has changed because apparently my dear mother is the boss of my boss’ boss’ boss. I was the daughter of Cytrus president. And yet I never knew what Cytrus really is. Well not until last year. 

Now my mom is not so much in the picture because she is too busy to stay in one country for long let alone a town. Last week, when we had our routine call, my mom was in Cytrus Belarus. She asked if I would consider abandoning this academy and take another year to study in Minsk. And that was asked while she was chewing on the first yogurt flavored gum that her team in Cytrus Belarus made. I mean that was amazing, to have achieved this state of development in flavoring. Well, considering how bad it got since the last typhoon affected the essence we can extract from the kernel.

”You will like it here. It’s not just about the study. I mean you can meet your cousin and join him in that tour you always want to get to know more of and maybe you’ll consider then about joining Cytrus,” she said.

”Mom, that was me being a teenager. I’m grown up now, I don’t care about some band that sings about the climate and how bad our soil is.”

”But I won’t help you with anything about Cytrus,” she was still trying to talk me down.

”I don’t mind because I’m in the academy now even without your help. You know I got the brain of the great Leandra on me, so I don’t really need your help.” I was trying hard to hide my smile when I saw how my mom reacted to what I said. The curve slipped my control. 

“Well, in that case I don’t need to remind you to go to bed early, do I?”

”No you don’t Mom. I love you,” 

“I love you back turtle. I’ll see you next week.”

The Last Harvest | chapter 1: The Graduation part. 1

 The Graduation

JAKARTA, 2060

The thing about invisible doors is I always forget to snap my fingers and show my face to the censor on the ceiling. It’s the blaring alarm that makes me stop before I hit the actual invisible door. I don’t hate that I almost smash the door with my face; I hate the attention I get every time that high-pitched tone screeches from the ceiling. It’s the faces of the people on the other side of the door, a judgment added to the smug facial expression of that robotic red panda guard. It’s the audible side-eye from pedestrians across the street. But I’m used to this. The everyday rush and the chaotic air route of flying bikes don't help. My ADHD bracelet is sometimes on silent mode because I don’t like its constant vibration.

This month is special. After two years of extensive training, I'm finally graduating from the School of Second Food Science along with 58 other scientists. But I’m not a scientist, even though I'm supposed to earn the right to call myself one. My brain isn't wired that way, to remember combinations of components and what reacts to what. My mind works great with colors. I can differentiate colors with the slightest distinction of grade. I can remember all colors, even from the time before, and I know a way to replicate them.

Zaul, now the head of the School of Second Food Science, found me three years ago in the cornfield near the foot of Mount Singgalang. I was only 15, dragging sacks of dry corn leaves bigger than myself to earn cash for school. I was collecting the dry leaves and sorting them by how brown they were. The people from Cytrus who collected crops from my village would also collect the graded leaves. I never knew what the leaves were for, not until my first year in this school. Zaul came to the field to check on how our farmers were using the Cytrus fertilizers. He saw me sorting the leaves, asked me how I did it, and I told him I just see it differently.

The next week, Zaul came with a truck that had the big Cytrus logo on its side. Inside, there was a set of screens and a table with boxes on top. In the corner was something that looked like half of an ancient telephone I saw in a museum, with a long iron cable hanging from it.

“Come here, kid,” Zaul said, and he held out his hand.

I walked a step closer, my eyes focused on the fancy-looking tools on the table.

“What did you have for breakfast this morning?” he asked.

“Boiled egg and corn milk,” I replied.

“What do you think about them?” he asked, taking a step toward me.

“Enough,” I said. I wasn’t lying; I would be fine just having corn milk all day. I like them.

“I mean, how do they look?” Zaul raised his eyebrows.

“Like they're real?” I said, doubting myself.

“How?”

“Because it tastes like eggs?” I knew it was a stupid answer the moment I said it. I’d never tried the real ones.

“But you’ve never tried real eggs,” Zaul confirmed.

“Well, it looks like the ones in the books at the library,” I said, staring at my feet, the black boots looking brownish from the dirt.

“Yeah, they look like them,” he said. Zaul walked a few steps back to the table and opened one of the boxes, taking out a sphere-shaped white thing wrapped in bubble plastic. A mist surrounded it.

“This is a real one. Open it,” he said, handing the package to me. My right hand opened hesitantly, and Zaul placed the object in my palm.

“It’s alright, it’s my present for you,” he added.

When my Nana was still here, before the fertilizer poisoning took so many people in our community, she would take me to the library in the town near our village. That’s where I'd spend half the day roaming around, flipping through books like they were the most interesting thing in the world. I mean, how would I know what was interesting when all I’d ever seen was acres of cornfields and the foggy sky? But those books—encyclopedias, Nana told me—had pictures of animals with patterns on their skin, birds with colorful wings, and fruits with different shapes. I remember looking at a page detailing how a chicken came from an egg and found it surprising that people ate them. My younger self thought it was creepy to eat the baby of a bird, even before it looked like a bird.

Now I held a real egg, wrapped in plastic, feeling like it had been frozen the entire time. So my guess was right: the mist was cold air from the box. I looked at Zaul's face. He nodded and smiled slightly, his left eye crinkling at the corner. I slowly ripped the thinnest part of the plastic, trying to grab the seat near him, afraid I would drop the package and lose what could be my only chance to experience a real egg.

“It’s okay,” Zaul said.

Feeling encouraged, I ripped it quickly. My fingers shook slightly as I put my hand inside the now-open bag and grabbed the sphere.

“Is this the real one?” I asked, looking at Zaul, whose smile was now wider. He nodded.

I stared at the egg closely, looking all around it as if I didn't want to miss a single spot.

“Is this boiled?” I asked again, my eyes still glued to the egg.

“Yes,” Zaul said. He walked toward me and took the telephone-shaped thing from the wall.

“This is the egg from before, and it’s boiled so we can preserve its looks, its taste, its originality, and its color. Otherwise, it would have rotted. The yolk inside could have been a dead baby chicken, or just disgustingly rotten,” he added, taking the egg from my hand.

I paid close attention as he knocked the tip of the egg with his knuckles. I heard the crack.

“Here,” Zaul handed me the egg back.

“Open the shell and take a closer look at how it looks before you take a bite.”

“But,” I said. I didn't know how to react. I admit I really wanted to try a real egg because Nana had told me they were different from the ones Cytrus distributed. And I bet my old self I would regret it if I didn’t, because I didn’t know if I'd ever encounter the real stuff again.

“We have more of this if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Zaul said, as if he knew what I was thinking.

I put my finger inside the crack and pulled a piece of the broken shell. The firm, white surface was revealed. Just like my egg that morning. Thinking about my breakfast egg, the unreal one, I had a sudden urge to compare it to the real one. In a rush, I pulled the shell off in small pieces until it was all gone. I watched the entire egg, my eyes feeling like they were about to tear up. I was thinking of my Nana. She always talked about how much she missed having real food like they used to. I could share this with her if she were still here. If only the Cytrus people hadn't forced us to use their fertilizer, Nana would still be here. But I could feel Zaul’s breath on my neck, waiting for me to do something with the egg.

I looked at him after a quick glance at his shirt with the Cytrus logo. He’s one of them, this man is a Cytrus person. One of the people who ruined my village. I think he’s responsible for my Nana’s death and a lot of others from my village.

“Why?” I asked, putting my eyes back on the egg.

“What?” Zaul corrected his position so he could see my face.

“Why did you give poisoned fertilizer to the farmers?”

“What do you mean?” he asked in a steady but raspy voice.

“That was the reason why my Nana and other people from this village died. The fertilizer was poisoned. You took them all away,” I swallowed hard. Something burning was stuck in my throat. I tried to steal a look at Zaul’s face. His expression didn’t change; he was still looking at me with those smiling eyes.

“We can talk about that after you try the egg, I promise,” he said, sitting in front of me.

“But why?” My voice was getting heavy, and I could barely hear myself.

“Because, Suri,” he said my name for the first time. “Yes, I know your name. You’re the granddaughter of Saur Dee, and I was here when the fertilizer program came to your village. I was the one who taught the farmers how to properly use it. Your Nana isn't the only one, but we discovered something that could help our species survive this world a little longer, far better. The egg in your hand is from the last chicken that survived the wave, and it’s thanks to your Nana. We will talk about the fertilizer, I promise. I just need you to try the egg. Please?”

I didn't want to believe this man. It was only our second time talking. But I knew Cytrus people would have every kind of information about us, the farmers, the villagers. So if Zaul knew my Nana, it was probably true. And if this egg was what he explained it to be, I wouldn't mind taking a bite in exchange for a little answer to the question I just found needed to be asked a moment ago.

So I put the egg in my mouth. I gave it a bite. I let the white part of it fall to the floor of my mouth, revealing a yolk that was still frozen. It tasted different. I brought the egg in front of my face to see the color. It was not the same color as my boiled egg that morning.

“It’s not the same, huh?” Zaul took the egg from my hand and put something else on it.

“You can make it all look like it was from before,” he added.

In Your Orbit – #loveletterseries | eps.4

It’s been a while since the last time I talked a lot about you. I do talk about you all the time but not in this particular situation. Not like this. Not this descriptive. Not this detail precisely. I will talk about you more now because just now it came to me. I saw you moving your pen with your beautiful fingers and I continued staring at your face, watching the way your lips move irregularly while you copy all those precious thoughts in your mind to a piece of paper.

Have I ever told you probably I fell in love the first time around with your confidence?

With how you’re being so sure about your body language and the way you talk. How you’re being so neat with the way you say things and rolling your eyes every now and then.

Sometimes in my life, I think about how one soul needs a pair of its insecurity and that’s probably what one searches for. It’s probably what one hopes to find or nothing at all. But then in other times, I come to a realization that that one insecure soul is rather mine. The fact is apparently, that soul of mine fell in love with the confidence in you. When I think about the time I know I love you and all of your beings, I then remember how I saw the confidence sparks through yourself. How that one particular thing might be the key you got to my heart. Who knows. We often needed time to realize the arrow cupid’s shot had got into us anyway.

This is a glimpse of my morning routine that today, happened to be a really nostalgic moment by seeing you in all that beauty. I hope you always know that there are millions of things about you I could come to a story about. And it’s not because I plan it to, the feeling came to me, I embraced it with one of our favorite things, words.

I hate it that you jinxed this by telling me about the love letter you asked last night when you saw me typing. But this writing is inspired by you, it’s all about you and absolutely for you. So here you go, baby. A love letter you asked for. I wasn’t gonna give you one, but you give yourself one by getting me falling in love again. I love you always.

We Hate Each Other Right Now, But Not Forever

This morning was not like any other morning. It was a Saturday type of busy morning that we have never experienced. There were a lot of checklists to complete and places to visit. But still, we kissed and said “morning, love” like any other morning—just like our regular morning routine. 

It was 5 am. You woke up because of my alarm. You tried to wake me up, but you failed. You saw through the entire room with a little bit of confusion. There’s a lot on your mind in that early morning. You starved, you saw our room was messy, you saw me sleeping like a baby after we kissed, and you reached out your phone with no notification that you’ve been waiting for from your colleague.

Yet, you decided to go back to sleep, like me. 

It was 7 a.m. You saw me still sleeping unmoved. You still saw this messy room, and no notification appeared on your screen. It’s still you, but the difference was that this time, you tried to sit with anger. 

“Arghh,” you said, annoyed with your situation at that time. You started hating this messy room, your phone, and me, who was sleeping unmoved like a baby. 

You tried to wake me up with no plan of failing. You shook my body harder and harder, you yelled, and it was my turn to feel annoyed. 

“What?”, I asked with a little bit of frustration in my face.

“Wake up! We need to hurry. It’s 7 a.m. already.”, you replied unfriendly. I was not listening. My head was too heavy for this conversation that Saturday morning. 

“Wake up!!” you yelled louder, and I was angry. 

“Okay!”, I said. I sat, stood, and moved my body directly to the bathroom. I took a shower and wore the clothes that you chose. I sat for a while, waiting for you to do make-up. You looked pretty but I was still angry. 

I drove you to the first place we needed to go. You had an office event, and I went to a coffee shop. I tried to remember why I had this feeling. Why I needed to feel this anger and the feeling of hating you was right for me. Because there was no conversation between you and me this morning from our house to your office event’s place. 

I tried to think clearly. 

My anger came from the way you yelled. 

You yelled because you were angry with me. 

You were angry due to some factors: two of them were your colleague who was not responding to your message and me for not tidying up our room after working until late the night before. 

I did not tidy up the room because I was exhausted due to my work and neglected my responsibilities in our relationship. 

So, it was me. 

I picked you up after we separated for almost 3 hours. You with your activities, and me with my coffee and thought. 

“You still angry?”, you asked after we drove for a while. 

“Not really. I’m sorry honey.”, I replied with a poker face. 

“I am sorry, I was not respectful to you.”, you said softly. 

“I am sorry. I was not supportive enough for you.”, I said gently. We held our hands again like we used to do when we were both in the car. Because we realized, in this relationship, we might hate each other for a reason, we might be angry toward each other for some actions, yet it doesn’t have to be forever. 

We can communicate, we can show respect, and can fix things together.  

RIAK-RIAK MESIN TENUN

Dua atau tiga kali dalam setahun, aroma belerang yang mengendap di dasar danau Maninjau menguar. Jutaan ikan yang dibesarkan dalam karamba oleh ratusan pengusaha ikan nila akan mati dalam satu atau dua minggu. Sudah menjadi kebiasaan bagi pemilik karamba untuk menjadikan danau sebagai tempat pembuangan bangkai ikan-ikan gagal panen mereka. Bercampurlah aroma belerang, ikan nila pucat yang menggembung, dan segala hal membusuk yang dibuang ke tengah danau ini. Familiar bagi orang-orang yang memilih untuk tetap menghuni rumah peninggalan leluhur mereka di pinggir danau. Mengganggu bagi orang-orang yang bertahan hidup was-was berdampingan dengan lereng bukit-bukit yang terbiasa longsor. 

Rani, dibandingkan dengan siapapun percaya bahwa hidungnya lebih akrab dengan aroma belerang dan bangkai ikan yang menepi itu. Sambil tetap menikmati teh racikannya di beranda belakang setiap pagi dan menjelang maghrib, Rani tidak peduli jika ada ratusan orang yang nyaris muntah menghirup aroma musiman di sekeliling danau Maninjau itu. Baginya, bau busuk ini hanya identitas di kampung halaman tempat ibunya lahir, tumbuh, menjalani kehidupan dan menua sebelum kembali menjadi tanah.

Rani hidup di rumah kayu bersama saudaranya. Rumah berumur seratus tahun dengan beranda yang setengahnya menjorok ke arah danau. Rani punya kebiasaan menghabiskan tiga puluh menit setiap pagi dan sore untuk menikmati teh sambil merapikan benang-benang tenunan dan menghitung jumlah karamba yang terlihat dari berandanya. 

Rani tidak terlalu suka dengan jumlah karamba yang mengapung di permukaan danau Maninjau ini. Mungkin satu-satunya keturunan Angku Laweh, kakeknya, salah satu dari pelopor budidaya ikan nila dalam jala apung yang tidak ikut serta memanfaatkan danau untuk mencari nafkah. Karenanya, Rani sering menjadi bahan olok-olok orang kampung karena mengasingkan diri dari kegiatan ekonomi nomor satu di sekitar danau Maninjau itu. Rani sering dicibir oleh tetangga dan sepupu-sepupunya karena lebih memilih untuk hidup pas-pasan dengan penghasilan kecil yang didapatkan dari menjual songket.

Songket karya Rani memiliki corak unik yang penuh dengan pola-pola yang bercerita. Tidak ada orang di kampungnya yang terlalu paham pekerjaan Rani. Bagi mereka Rani hanya tukang tenun songket yang hidup dari santunan dua kakak pengusaha karambanya.

Sore ini, seperti biasa Rani duduk di beranda. Menghirup teh sambil menyusun benang dan memilih warna yang akan dipakainya untuk songket selanjutnya dan sesekali memandang jauh ke seberang danau memperhatikan sisa matahari bersembunyi di balik bukit. Namun riak danau petang ini terasa berbeda. Suara rangkulan air yang menepuk ujung tangga beranda terdengar lebih pelan namun dalam. Terasa dekat tapi seolah jauh. Rani beranjak dari kursi rotannya dan mendekati tangga, memperhatikan permukaan air yang terlihat semakin tenang seiring dengan silau petang yang semakin hilang dan redup. Perlahan semua suara menjadi seirama dan gumaman halus bersiul dari arah danau. 

Rani terkesiap. Sambil memejamkan mata Rani kembali mendekat ke arah danau dan duduk di ujung tangga. Suara merdu itu kembali mendengung. Mengalun dari kedalaman danau. Menggetarkan ujung-ujung rambut halus di kulit Rani dan membuat hembusan angin terasa ratusan kali lebih dingin. Terhipnotis. Rani semakin membenamkan kakinya ke dalam air dan melangkah turun ke anak tangga yang lebih rendah. Alunan suara dari jauh itu semakin berirama. Memanggil. Seketika adzan magrib berkumandang. Rani tersentak membuka mata dan meninggalkan beranda. Menutup pintu terburu-buru.

Di dalam kamar, setelah mengganti pakaian yang basah karena berendam di danau dan menunaikan sholat maghrib, Rani duduk bersandar di ujung kasur. Memandang keluar lewat celah yang disisakan jendela. Mengingat suara halus yang membuat Rani seolah ingin menyelam jauh ke dasar danau tadi. Baru sekali dalam hidupnya mendengar suara seperti itu. Dan hanya dari film fantasi soal makhluk lain di perairan Rani pernah mendengar suara yang serupa. Tapi apa mungkin di danau Maninjau ini ada makhluk yang selama ini diceritakan sebagai sosok khayalan itu. 

Rasa penasaran Rani lebih kuat dibandingkan rasa takutnya. Tanpa peduli langit sudah gelap dan danau semakin tenang, Rani bergerak keluar kembali ke beranda. Dengan langkah pelan Rani mendekati ujung tangga. Matanya menangkap selembar kain terhampar. Mengapung di dekat tangga. Rani mendekat dan mengambil kain basah yang memiliki motif dan warna unik itu. Songket tua berisikan corak abstrak membentuk sosok manusia, danau, dan manusia setengah ikan. Rani kembali tersentak. Namun tetap memegang erat kain di tangannya. Suara merdu yang didengarnya petang tadi kembali mengalun dari arah danau. Buru-buru Rani kembali masuk dan meninggalkan beranda dengan bulu kuduk berdiri.

Rani menyalakan keran air dan membilas kain basah yang dibawanya dari beranda. Membuat luntur air danau penuh bau amis dan membuat warna di kain itu semakin terlihat jelas. Semakin Rani memperhatikan motif di songket itu semakin matanya terasa panas sebelum akhirnya meneteskan butiran air dari sudut matanya. Rani menangis menyadari bahwa corak di atas kain itu ternyata bercerita tentang seorang manusia yang menenggelamkan dirinya ke danau untuk dapat bersama dengan manusia setengah ikan yang hidup di dasar danau. Hanya saja air mata Rani bukan tentang kisah cinta antara dua makhluk berbeda alam itu. Rani menangis mengingat alunan yang didengarnya yang membuat Rani merasa bahwa kisah cinta yang dilihatnya di atas kain songket ini bukan cerita fiksi yang sering dilihatnya di film-film atau cerita yang bisa dibacanya dari buku-buku. Rani tiba-tiba merasakan duka yang teramat dalam mengingat danau yang menjadi sumber kehidupan ribuan manusia yang hidup di kampungnya ini, perlahan mati. Seakan menenggelamkan diri ke dasar air—yang dilakukan sosok dalam corak songket itu—orang-orang memanfaatkan danau terlalu berlebihan adalah tindakan bunuh diri yang membuat kisah cinta antara manusia dan alam adalah cerita cinta antara dua makhluk yang berbeda alam. Seolah luntur, ketakutan Rani hilang. Rani bangkit dan kembali membuka pintu beranda.

Rani berdiri di ujung tangga membiarkan angin malam menampar wajahnya. Berharap kembali mendengarkan nyanyian dari danau Maninjau yang begitu ia cinta. Hening. Hanya bunyi air yang merangkak perlahan menepuk ujung beranda. Rani menghela nafas panjang, menghirup semua aroma yang bisa terhirup dari angin malam dan permukaan danau Maninjau yang semakin kotor.

Untaian benang-benang yang ditenun Rani dalam songketnya selama ini ternyata adalah wujud kepasrahan Rani terhadap pencemaran danau Maninjau. Tanpa merasa perlu untuk memberikan kritik, berusaha sekecil apapun untuk membantu danau Maninjau memiliki kembali keasrian purbanya, Rani memilih untuk menjadi pengrajin songket sebagai bentuk persembunyian dari dorongan apatis di dalam jiwanya terhadap perubahan alam dan perilaku manusia. 

Semakin Rani memandang permukaan danau, semakin ia terhanyut dalam corak riak yang menepi. Semakin Rani tenggelam dalam pikirannya, semakin Rani menyadari bahwa danau Maninjau telah memanggilnya. Lolongan merdu yang didengar Rani itu adalah tangisan pilu permintaan tolong oleh peninggalan fenomena alam yang sekarat. Hamparan lukisan abstrak yang tergambar dalam songket yang ia temukan malam ini adalah sajak penuh metafora yang mengajarkan Rani bahwa mencintai saja tidak cukup, dengan segala perasaan dan emosi yang dirasakannya menjadi manusia yang hidup di pinggir danau Maninjau dan menyaksikan keindahan alam ini berubah menjadi pembuangan kotor atas kerakusan manusia, Rani harus melakukan sesuatu.

Seperti sosok manusia yang menenggelamkan dirinya ke dasar danau untuk dapat bersama dengan manusia setengah ikan di dalam corak songket itu, Rani merasakan bersama butiran air yang meleleh dari sudut matanya, bahwa dirinya mungkin ditakdirkan untuk menjadi sosok manusia yang menceburkan diri ke air danau untuk hal yang sama: cinta. 

Untuk nyanyian yang terdengar oleh Rani malam ini, untuk sebuah tangisan sakral yang datang dari dasar danau, untuk lolongan dari alam yang menyerah atas keserakahan manusia mengeruk keuntungan tanpa peduli dengan makhluk lain yang bergantung pada danau ini, Rani bersumpah akan melakukan apapun yang bisa ia perbuat untuk mengembalikan keindahan danau Maninjau dan berhenti tenggelam dalam keadaan pasrah dan bersembunyi dari realita. Dengan membuat songket Rani akan bercerita soal danau Maninjau untuk memperjuangkan perhatian dari tangan-tangan dan kuasa yang lebih berpengaruh untuk memperbaiki kelestarian danau tempat kelahirannya.

Rani memejamkan mata. Sayup kembali terdengar dengungan merdu dari tengah danau mengiringi helaan nafas cita-cita yang mulai terpancar dalam jiwa Rani. Rani ingin membuat danau Maninjau berganti wajah, membuatnya kembali terlihat membiru menuju pemulihan. Rani ingin menyembuhkan danau yang sekarat ini dan aroma belerang yang sedang identik dengan kerusakan ini dapat dengan ajaib berubah menjadi simbol ketahanan.

Rani terus menyusun rencana dalam kepalanya, membayangkan setiap songket yang akan dibuatnya untuk menceritakan kisah penebusan dan komitmen. la ingin menjadi suara bagi danau Maninjau. Sambil menghirup aroma angin yang membawa bau amis, imajinasi Rani menarasikan danau Maninjau yang bebas dari belenggu kelalaian dan pengabaian, kembali bergema dengan melodi, alunan nyanyian dari dasar danau—kali ini, bukan kesedihan dan duka, melainkan harapan. Ikrar dan tekad Rani di malam yang tak terlupakan itu memicu perubahan dalam dirinya, menuliskan cerita dan kisah cinta baru antara manusia dan alam.

Dalam kain-kain waktu, songket-songket Rani akan menjadi benang-benang yang menghubungkan masa lalu, kini, dan masa depan, menjalin cerita ketahanan dan ikatan abadi antara manusia dan alam. Di mata Rani, Danau yang memudar dalam warna keputus-asa-an ini berkilau dengan pantulan biru langit di atas permukaannya yang tampak asri.