Credit Michal Karcz http://www.michalkarcz.com/
Atakama
By CN Reagan
The shelters of the Atakama were squat; not more than 144 sq ft at the base and approximately one third smaller around the top. There was no gables and the primary forms consisted of self-supporting non-uniform rectangular stones; carrying structural forces mainly through compression. There were no timber beams or braces, owing to the complete desolation of the environment; therefore, various abundant and mineable metals were skillfully formed and crafted to fulfill an array of functions within each individual habitat; brace and latch points, as well as awnings, doors, and windows, were all metallic though not uniformly created from hand or material. The dull stone facades yielded to the polychromatic glint of light across the smooth surfaces of the metallic additions. Thick non-permeable canvas covered each roof and was held fast with stranded medium gauge cable.
Incidents of continued saltation through the faculty of strong winds, primarily northern in manifestation and southeasterly in direction frequently transported large quantities of sand across the village. The pooling sand on the top canvas of each structure, in conjunction with the natural stone and metal gradients, gave cause for the village to take on the characteristics of an inferior mirage, even when viewed at close distance. The village seemed as much a part of the landscape as the barren horizon. No bustling markets, no people moving in and out between the structures. They had long since departed.
Eastward past the village, and dominating the horizon, was the Heliograph. At over 3000 ft high and 1200 ft wide, it seemed a mountain of unnaturally shaped stone. Straight edged and hollow in the middle it resembled a doorway to the heavens, or hell. Silent and unmoving it sat for millenia upon the barren surface of the Atakama Desert demanding respect from all in its purview. Now a soft and radiant light emits from within the obelisks’ frame; and a discerning eye can see the very last of the determinative Atakama people, moving across its foundation and into the unknown.
To The West
By EE Reagan
We made haste across the vast desert to escape the grips of war and certain death. The last bit of food had been eaten a day ago, and the last drops of water had been used to quite the crying child. Thick dark clouds in the overcast sky suggested relief from our growing dehydration, but withheld their precious gift as they did for much of the year. Some among us suggested we rest until dark, but we had not gone far enough that escape from danger was thought complete, so we pushed on along the rocky foothills running west across the desert.
The faint outline of an unnaturally square object rose in the far distance like a mirage. A few hours of walking and we stopped at the base of the structure. Now in the presence of an impossibly high and wide stone archway whose doorway gaped into nothing but an infinite plain of sand, we marveled. We proceeded up a ramp to gain shelter under its capstone to rest for the day. Whatever gods or man built this monument would not begrudge our short occupation. To our bewilderment and jubilation, a pool of shimmering water bubbled from the depths below the stone and presented itself to us in the heart of the structure. We all drank the pure water thankfully and gleefully until we’d had our fill, all except the sleeping child.
We sat at the water’s edge and began discussing how next to proceed in the shade of the stone roof. It was then that in a blinding flash, my companions disappeared. I was left alone in the cool breeze, stupefied by what had just happened. Where had everyone else gone? I stood and pondered this miracle for longer than I can recall. Did this inexplicable doorway lead somewhere unseen? Had the water been the key? But I’d drunk it too. What should I do now?
I began to hear the soft coos of the child. Standing, I walked to the child, taking its slight frame in my arms. It looked into my eyes as if to ask, “What are we doing?” Where had the child’s mother and father gone? Maybe they were looking for it even now, and are unable to find it because it is here with me. Should I make the child drink the water and attempt to reconnect them? Should we both drink the water and try to go together? But if I disappeared and the child didn’t, the babe would be alone and surely die.
I argued this logic over and over. What if there was nowhere else to go? What if the doorway led to nothing, oblivion? I could not accept that I’d been spared only to send this child to its death. No, we will carry on, away from danger, the child and I. We will carry on to the west.