After the storm, the salt still hangs in the air. I crouch at the edge of the pipeline, watching a green lizard in the distance drag away something it killed—it's still twitching, but no longer fighting. The rules here are simple and almost cruel: either eat someone, or be eaten, or find high ground before the next rain. I touch the pearl I've hidden, it's heavier than any food. Sometimes I wonder, do we live in order to live, or to remember something? Maybe the giants above the clouds know the answer, but they never speak, they just let the rain fall.