Weeds Grow From the Cracks

She named this specimen Duncan. He was huge, double the size of most other crows. Through the drone, she watched as Duncan cracked the rock against a stone, flaking off pieces until it was sharp. Holding it in his claws, his wings thundered and he rose into the sky.

His nest was in the old Belém Tower, which still stood amidst the piles of rubble, and jutted out from the sea. Trees and vegetation sprouted from the fallen buildings, cracking what was left of the concrete and stone. It wouldn’t be long until it was all swallowed in forests.

She tracked Duncan as he flew, soaring in the clear blue skies. In the streets below, a small herd of javelinas picked their way across the ruins, rummaging beneath stones and stalks.

Duncan beat his wings, positioning high above. He released the rock. It crashed into the skull of a young beast, cracking bone and piercing the flesh. Even the drone could pick up its scream of pain. It ran for a few seconds, then collapsed, legs twitching.

Duncan circled high above, waiting. When blood had pooled and the beast was still, he descended, pecking at the skin and meat.

Satisfied, he took flight again.

“Food!” Duncan shouted in a much too human voice.

As he circled, a flock gathered around him. When he plunged down, they followed and feasted.

#

From orbit, she saw the trails of fire racing across the sky. Dozens. Hundreds. The last wave from the indian subcontinent, piercing the atmosphere. It would not be long now, until her vigil finally ended and she surrendered control to the automated systems.

But while there was time, she watched.

Duncan worked on his nest, making room for his mate. With his beak and claws, he tied pieces of wood together, building a sort of rickety shack, stuffed with straw and pieces of old fabric. Shiny bits of metal sparkled in the setting sun, dangling from all corners.

Kira cawed from outside. Duncan poked his head out, perched on the ledge. He beat his large wings in greeting. She landed next to him, a bundle of berries held in her claws.

“Food?” she asked.

“Food,” he confirmed.

Side by side they picked at the berries, swallowing each one whole. As darkness swept over the sea, they snuggled close together, cleaning each other.

Just before sleep set in, Duncan presented his gift. He had been working in secret, twisting strings into a loop from which dangled a sparkling piece of rose crystal: a necklace. With his beak he laid it over her neck.

#

The storm arrived with wild, gusting wind. Lightning raced over the sky, piercing the black clouds and the rain that fell in oblique sheets.

Atop the tower, Duncan’s nest rattled under the assault. The two crows hid inside, pressed against the walls to keep them from collapsing. Streams of water dripped from the cracks, spilling over the sides.

Wood splintered. The whole structure leaned to the side, then crashed down on top of them.

“Fly!” Duncan shouted.

Kira crawled from beneath the wreckage of their home. She plunged over the edge, wings beating furiously in the gale. Duncan soon followed. They hovered over what remained of the nest as rubble fell down to the waves that swept over the base of the tower.

They found refuge beneath a fallen wall in a once narrow street, shivering in the cold as they waited for the storm to pass.

#

Under the harsh sun, the flock gathered. Crows perched on every surface, some flying in the air in circles.

“Stone,” Duncan said, thumping his beak against the road. “Safety. Work.”

“Hard,” said Lim. “Break?”

“Learn,” Duncan replied.

Kira stood ready, the string hanging from her beak. Using a large concave shell, Duncan poured sand in a line over the large stone block. From a metal bowl he also poured water. With Kira at one end and he at the other, they sawed the string back and forth.

Slowly, the sand ground a groove into the stone. The other crows piled in close to watch as over hours the block was cut neatly in two.

“Safe,” Duncan said. “Nest. Big.”

Lim hopped back and forth, undecided.

“Heavy,” Lim finally said.

“Together,” Duncan replied.

The cacophony of caws and words that followed drowned everything else, as crows clustered into groups.

Some flew away. Others stayed and learned. Blocks were cut, moved and placed.

#

They worked fast and tirelessly. The flock spoke not only in words, but in community, a constant flow of food and materials keeping everything supplied.

It was strange. There was no clear hierarchy, no ledgers and calculations. Still, the monoliths rose. Stones were piled atop each other into columns, mimicking the once proud houses around them. Flat slabs were laid on top, covered with sticks and vegetation, insulating it from the water.

Inside, nests grew. Kira now incubated four precious pale blue eggs, as Duncan stood watch over the entrance to their shack. In just a matter of seasons, the flock had grown into a village.

They protected their territory fiercely. They managed the bushes and trees for food. They hunted from high above. They grew and evolved faster than anyone predicted.

The last wave of ships streaked out into space.

This was their world now.

She plotted the course for her own craft and steeled herself for the long-sleep across the void.

The machines would stay. They would observe and nurture. When the crows were ready, they would communicate and humanity would no longer be alone.