Chapter 1
A Strange Fire

Night. I am jolted, thrown against a fellow passenger, as the Humvee careens through the chill, damp darkness. She yells to the driver, "Hey! Slow down, asshole!

"Over the river and through the woods!" the driver whoops. "We're coming, Granny!"

The Hummer skids to a stop. Another checkpoint. Guards outside shine flashlights into the interior of the Humvee. I shield my eyes. My companion is flashed- her hands jerk up. I catch a glimpse of a taut face with wide eyes. Very likely I look the same to her.

The guards wave the Humvee through. The driver guns it, spraying them with a rooster tail of gravel as they howl in anger.

"Ho, ho, ho! And away we go!" the driver laughs. "Don't you know? It's all a big joke!"

The Humvee's headlights carve away the darkness, revealing a stark, muddy landscape- a jumble of hastily erected construction. The lights glint off the pools of scummy water and endless stacked coils of stainless-steel razor wire that line the road.

Bulldozers and cranes loom in the darkness, swept by tower searchlights slashing the night like sky machetes. Vast shadows wheel and dance. I pass vehicles parked haphazardly, engines running, guards afoot with dogs, running spot checks, their breath chuffing clouds into the cold, night air.

As I approach the inner circle, the most guarded section of the complex, the atmosphere becomes charged with unearthly energy. I feel a prickling sensation on my skin and a taste of metal in my mouth. The Humvee skids to a halt.

I climb down from the Humvee, my boots sinking into the damp, churned earth. Overhead, ragged clouds scud past a cold gibbous moon. The air is thick with the stench of diesel exhaust and the sharp tang of welding torches. Massive generators rumble, punctuated by distant dogs barking and the clang of metal. Helicopters whir and fret overhead. Workers, heads down, in hard hats and orange safety vests hustle past.

My papers are checked at the final gate. Then I am through. In the final compound, it is subdued. I enter a round area, about one hundred yards across. It is not so much lit by the circle of construction lights around the perimeter as by a strange, unearthly ball of light at the very center- the Fire.

The dozen guards hang back against the perimeter, but one approaches to escort me. "This way, nugget," he gestures toward the center, toward the Fire and the silhouetted figures moving around it.

Halfway there, he halts. "Far as I go. You go over there, and you report to that big guy there. That's Snake. Mr. Jake Peavy to you, nugget. You do what he says, and you'll be fine."

The guard waits until I step forward, then he walks hurriedly back to his post. That step forward leads to another. There's no going back.

I approach the workers, a dozen figures toiling, lofting items of every description into the strange Fire. They are the Firefeeders.

The Firefeeders move methodically, their faces illuminated by the Fire's ethereal glow. They grapple things from a row of carts- old books, clothing, electronics, building materials, toys- and feed them into the swirling flames with practiced efficiency. On one side, a large display board records the sphere's size in centimeters, with indicator lights flickering from green to warning orange. Red lights remain dark. A steady parade of workers with hand carts, filled with an endless variety of any random material thing conceived in this world, trundle up to the Fire to leave them in a ready row, and another stream of workers with empty carts quickly leave through another gate.

It is the Fire itself that holds me spellbound. I am to be a Firefeeder now. Before me, a sphere of light, about eight feet in diameter, hovers above a dished, vitrified depression of black glass. I can't tear my gaze away.

The Fire burns bright, a scintillating crystalline light that casts an eerie dancing glow on the figures toiling in its service. It is a light through the melting stained glass windows of a burning cathedral. Each flame has a life of its own, intertwining in a hypnotic display of ethereal hues, from the deep, electric blue of midnight radio static to the shimmering, metallic green of the first leaf of the first ancient summer, dappled with ghostly magenta and spectral golds.

The colors within the Fire are not static but writhe and shift in a constant, chaotic dance. Tendrils of pure, electric white lash out like solar flares, clashing with vivid, neon purple swirls, only to be reabsorbed into the pulsing There's an eerie harmony to its chaos, a sense of purpose behind its wild, coruscating energy.

A thrumming hum resonates from the sphere, like electricity dreaming, hinting at a vast engine of incredible contained power interspersed with soft crackles and pops that echo in the stillness around me. Each sound melds with the flames' colors, creating a symphony of awe inspiring and terrifying sensations. The light warps the air, giving the surrounding environment a shimmering, dreamlike quality, as if reality itself were being shivered by this hypnotic energy.

As I stand transfixed by the Fire sphere, my gaze is irresistibly drawn toward its central core. The colors within swirl in a complex dance, creating a world of luminescent liquid jewels pulsing with a life of its own. The deeper I stare, the more I feel the vibrant hues inviting me in, pulling me toward that mysterious heart where the light is most intense.

"Whoa. Easy there." A heavy hand clamps my shoulder. Pulls me back. Jake Peavy, the one I was told is called 'Snake,' leans close, looking into my eyes. "Yeah. It gets you. Being up close. Seeing it in real life. Not like a video in orientation, is it?" Snake turns to the others.

"Hey! Listen up. New meat here. This nugget wants to be a Firefeeder. What say you?"

A torrent of jeers and catcalls erupt. Most of the work of unloading the carts and feeding the Fire halts.

A few of the closer Firefeeders advance, their expressions cold.

Snake looms. "Hey, nugget! Look at the board! What color do you see?"

"Um.., orange-?" I venture

"Orange!" Snake is right in my face, eyes bulging with rage. "Orange! Because you fucking interrupted us! Because you have the Goddamn nerve to imagine that you, of all people, could be good enough to be a Goddamn

FIREFEEDER!"

Snake furiously manhandles a full cart in front of me. "You got us all behind; now you feed the Fire, you get us caught up!" The metal cart contains building debris, drywall, two-by-four lengths, and concrete chunks. Snake shoves me. "Take it out of the cart and throw it in!"

I grapple with an unwieldy section of drywall and lever it out of the cart.

"Up three centimeters, Snake," someone standing near, mutters.

"Throw it in, nugget!"

I struggle to lift the drywall and awkwardly try to heave it in. It falls short, only half going in.

Snake explodes. "Jesus H. Christ on a cracker! Move closer!"

I try to choose a smaller piece, and this time, I succeed. The flat panel enters the Fire, curling and disintegrating in a cascade of impossible colors.

"Six centimeters."

"Forget the sheetrock, nugget, go for the concrete! More mass! That's the ticket!"

I dig down in the cart, nails and jagged masonry raking my skin. I lift out a heavy chunk of concrete, hug it, and stumble close to Fire. It is terrifying to be this close; my skin tingles and my hair stands up. The swirling mosaic of colors fills my vision as I heave the chunk in.

"More! Faster! Grab another!"

I wrestle a larger piece up against my chest, pivot staggering under its weight. I swing my torso to heave it in. It barely makes it, dissolving in a shower of luminescent tangerine fireflies.

"Again! Another!"

I grasp a smaller piece and can reach the Fire from a distance.

Snake is hovering, screaming in my ear. "That ain't enough! Another! Make it count!"

I boil over with rage, I want to punch this 'Snake" sonofabitch in the face, and I grab an armload of lumber and flail it into the Fire.

"More!"

The overwhelming feeling of the unfairness of the situation drives me to a paroxysm of crazed manic effort. I'm here to help these people, and this is how I get treated?! Well, fuck them fuck them all.! How about this! Is this good enough for you? And how about this! And how about this-!

I lift the last piece of debris from the cart, a massive piece of concrete. Staggering under its weight, my arms and back scream, and my legs feel like overcooked pasta; I'm stumbling, falling into the Fire.

A strong pair of hands catches me and pulls me back. I collapse.

Snake stands over me. He points to the indicator board. The lights are all green. He offers his hand and pulls me to my feet. He claps me on the shoulder.

"Good job, Probie."

I peer about. The other Firefeeders are back to work, rolling carts and efficiently maintaining a steady material flow into the hungry sphere. Each, in turn, nods to me or gives a thumbs-up. A stubby bald man walking by smiles and holds out his hand.

"I'm Manny. Welcome aboard, Firefeeder."

Dazed, I stand, shaking from exhaustion. Snake places a cart beside me.

"Take it easy for a while, Probie. This clothing is light stuff. Just take your time. Feed...