Synthetic Death

Chapter 1: The Pay Check

The man was running as fast as he could, a shoulder bag swinging

haphazardly against his torso. His quick, intense breaths complemented the
sweat on his face as he decided to cut the corner in front of him. The
accumulated concentration broke the next moment when right in front of him
another man appeared. It was too late to stop. In spite of this, he found himself
still on the run, as if nothing occurred. He was glad, yet at the same time
expected this to happen. Brushing the incident off, he returned to his sprint and
to his relief the bus stop was just a few meters in front of him, the bus still in
station.
Once inside, he took a few seconds to catch his breath and validate his
ticket. Scanning around he noticed all the people standing on their own feet
throwing quick suspicious glances at him. Only in the back there were a few
seats occupied by some men in formal, long blue-stripped red tunics, looking
like they were around his age.
“Excuse me, gentleman.” He said singling out one of them. “Could you
offer me your seat?”
The man showed initial signs of refusal, but conformed and even excused
himself after taking a closer look and observing his breathing.
The joy of relaxation overwhelmed the man as he sat down, sweeping the
sweat off his face and letting out a long sigh. His mind barely began to wander
into his plans for the day when the bus stopped. He watched as the man he
dislocated took a book from the compartment above the head of the person next
to him and that person took an old plush toy from the compartment above his
own head. Then the two of them left.
“Nice, I got fifteen minutes left and only three stops to go. Imma make it
in time.” He thought to himself as he checked his watch.
Storming his way through a labyrinth of staircases and hallways in a
centrally located office building, he thundered into his department. It was a
large room well ventilated through the ceiling, with rows upon rows of cubicles,
ordered alphabetically. The office was bustling with life, people walking along
the corridors between the cubicles, talking to their wireless earpieces.
Colleagues were both chatting and writing reports while superiors ordered
around and made know their requests. The man headed straight for Cubicle
Aisle P, desk 9. His cubicle was different from the others. Instead of metallic
platforms of adjustable height, he was allowed to bring his own tall chair in the
office, as to not work standing, unlike the others. Then he equipped his own
earpiece, checked-in with his bank card at the small machine on the wall of his
cubicle and set out to work through a mountain of papers on his desk.
The man was waiting for the machine to finish his coffee at a table near
the corner of the room by a window. The view from high above was
spectacular, but being used to it he considered the scenery redundant. The same
rectangular blocks one after the other like jigsaw puzzle pieces waiting to be
connected. Only in the distance were there fields of green and white, as the
residential neighbourhoods appeared to be in the distance, contrasting shapely
with the world of administration, logistics, archives, banking and corporations
right beneath his eyes. It saddened him as it reminded him of his situation, but
he refused to have his day ruined so early.
He was sitting in the breakroom section of the department, consisting of a
grand total of two tables. In his corner he was alone, the people minding their
business and continuing their work in spite of the it being breaktime, with the
exception of a man that joined him.
“Aidan, good to see you! You were almost late today, what happened?
Crazy night, eh?” he asked as he took a seat in front of him.
“Y’know me Sam, it was wild as ever, intriguing like paint drying on the
walls.” He replied with a tired smile on his face. Now that his coffee was
finished, he took a sip and said “How about you? How are things like at home?”
“Well, it’s actually fine, only the usual, nothing special. In a few weeks
my great-great-great-granddaughter will have her exams, so now the tutors
come every day to prepare her.”
“And how is she doing?”
“Mathematics get on her nerves, but her Lavonian Tongue skills are
magnificent. Either way I am proud, you know the language keeps this land
together much better than numbers. Following the steps of her brothers and
sisters, the little angel.”
Sam paused for a second before continuing the conversation. For a
moment he wanted to ask Aidan a typical ‘And you?’ out of habit, but stopped
himself as he knew better than that. “I feel Jeff is pushing down more work on
us.”
Aidan took a few more mouthfuls of coffee and agreed,
“I also noticed the change. I think it’s just a busier week than usual,
before this quarter has been really productive and the Cleansing is a few months
away. But… I must say, he seems to get angrier more easily. Maybe there are
some problems behind the curtain.”
“I heard that’s why Sally Newman got fired last week. There are rumours
that they were a step above friends and his wife didn’t take that lightly.”
“Rumours, Sam. Only rumours, don’t forget that. I heard that she told
Mrs. Oldhouse about an affair Jeff allegedly had on a business trip to Nan Hay
Island.”
“Oh! Good you reminded me! So, me and some of my household will go
there on holiday in a few weeks. We are waiting for my uncle to return from an
exercise.”
“Can you tell me what’s your uncle’s opinion on the might of the
military?”
“Communication is limited at sea, but I’ll tell you more when we meet.
Do you have any plans?”
Aidan smiled and finished his coffee responding “Yes, in fact yes, I want
to steal a boat and sail to the Icetowers, maybe find some family along the way.
After all, the archives will be declassified by Sunday.” He said keeping a
sarcastic voice.
Sam read through the mask of sarcasm he tried to put on and showed his
concern, “Please, don’t do something stupid. It’s not worth it. Your life isn’t
that bad, Edy, don’t fuck it up. Look, tomorrow Johnny’s household is throwing
a Gathering… Please attend it. Give it another chance and keep an open mind.”
The seriousness was all over Sam’s face and Aidan got the message, his
face reading a ‘thanks’ that his lips didn’t dare to utter. Instead, they tried to
tried to lighten the heavy atmosphere.
“See you there!” Aidan said with a wide smile on his face.
Sam raised his hand to high-five him, but instead of their hands clapping,
Aidan’s hand passed right through Sam’s and slapped the table.
 “You deserved it!” Sam said while laughing playfully. As he got up and
headed towards his cubicle, he repeated to himself, still in Aidan’s hearing
range, “Ha-ha! ‘See you there!’… Good one, Edy, good one.”
A rush of embarrassment flash through Aidan as the noise attracted the
attention of everyone in the vicinity, but played it off as the accident that it was
and returned to his cubicle. The mountain of paper was only halfway sorted out
to his dismay. There was enough work to be done for the rest of the day.
“Gosh… these stupid rules… I hope the protests make a difference this
time. Things need to change, I need an ACU! This is plain waste o’ time!” he
thought to himself as nobody around him would agree. There was no point in
complaining out loud.
Having just finished his shift a few hours later, Aidan naturally felt
hungry. Considering his options, he decided to have lunch at Exelor’s
Restaurant and Lounge as usual and then go shopping in the supermarket across
the street to buy ingredients for tonight’s dinner.
He entered the place half an hour of walking later. From the outside it
wasn’t particularly attractive. It looked like the ground floor of every other flat
complex with nothing to distinguish it from the colourful game of concrete,
glass and steel that made up the buildings besides neon lights spelling out the its
name. Once inside, the place transformed akin to a blooming tree in spring.
Crystal chandeliers emitted bright white lights, but the air was rather tawny, as
the light reflected on the golden floral ornaments on the walls. They wrapped
around like a maze of leaves and vines with creatures of old like birdsnakes and
seagles entangled in them, trying to fight their way out. Richly decorated red
and black marble columns rose in twisting spirals only to be crowned with a
lion head shaped capital. The lions supported the ceiling painted in dark red and
burgundy as if to imitate a padded cushion, which contrasted sharply with the
black and white geometric design of the floor. An entire hallway was decorated
as such to the very end, where a gorgeous receptionist was waiting.
“Aaaa! Mister Farefax, it’s good seeing you again!” she greeted him.
“Listen Judy, I’m just hungry, leave the formalities for my grand exit, I
just want to eat.” He replied both tired and bored, his controlled frustration
evident and imposing a mild sense of urgency to his meal. “If you want to talk,
we can do that later.”
“Alright Aidan, but unfortunately there are no spare private cabinets.” she
said throwing a glance at the doors behind the columns on his right. “I’m afraid
you’ll have to use the great dining-room.”
 “No problem, I’ll manage.” He said as he left for the large archway
behind the columns on his left.
While the waitress was on her way, Aidan was at a table in a corner
alone, trying his best to ignore the loud conversations and couples of all ages
making out and occasionally tasting the foods in front of them.
“Hello sir, which art thy demands that can I serveth thee with? Today’s
specialities art Balsamic Glazed Steak Rolls and Risotto Rice Balls with
Ceviche-Style Shrimp Cocktail.” the waitress inquired with a lively attitude.
“Three-week-old potatoes fried in yesterday’s oil.” He replied casually
with a smile complementing his sarcastic tone and his eyes betraying a certain
satisfaction he got from the initial confusion of the waitress. “You must be new
here; I don’t recognise you.”
“Well, it’s my first week here… Very keen sense of observation.
Anything else?”
“Yes, don’t forget some mustard and I’d like tonic water.” Aidan paused
for a second, “What’s your name? Has anybody told you about me?”
Her face lit up in a second and she clarified, “Karol. You must be the one
Judy and the staff warned me about. I knew something was off when I saw you
alone and wearing a checkers black and grey tunic!”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get to know each other better. That’s all, thanks.”
The shop was right across the street, so after paying his meal, Aidan
could be found there, at the vegetable’s aisle, selecting carefully the future parts
of his salad. The place was more crowded than usual, so he had enough time to
read some news on his Portable Television. After he paid for the food, he
headed towards the exit and he was just a few steps out of the shop when a
security guard stopped him.
“Mister!” the agent called, “You forgot your Artefact! I saw you leave all
alone without even unlocking a storage box.”
“You don’t understand, I-” Aidan tried to explain before being cut short
by the guard.
“The protocol requires I warn you if you don’t mention otherwise when
leaving the perimeter of the Commercial Society. I was right there at the door.”
“No, that’s not it, I don’t even have an Artefact. Since when does the
protocol say so?” he asked confused.
 “It’s been updated for a month now. Enforcement of the change on the
other half is something else, takes a bit of time to get used to it. What do you
mean you have no Artefact?”
The guard touched one of Aidan’s sensible chords and it was obvious by
the irritated way he replied, “I just don’t have one! I’m not a roamer like all
these other customers, ok? I ain’t buying food for my living family, I’m my
living family, I’m alive!” and saying that he simply left without looking back as
the agent tried to explain himself,
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” and then he entered the shop, whispering to
himself “Stupid rules… Shit!”.
By nightfall, Aidan was finishing the last bites of his salad in the quiet of
his apartment. Another day went by without much of anything special done.
Work, eat, watch a movie on the television, play some games on the console
with his digital acquaintances, eat again and get ready to sleep.
“At least tomorrow Johnny Kleinstein has a Gathering… trying is more
interesting than boredom. Doomsland, even the mind pain of a Gathering is
better than this silence.” He told himself. Then the silence was broken by the
specific notification ring of his bank card. He took a look at it. As expected, it
was his pay check for the day. So many would be glad to see higher numbers
and higher there, him included, but not in this particular way. It was written
clearly, the last revenue source: Social Assistance, +24H. Aidan was launched
like a bullet, those letters acting like a trigger.
“Why the Doomsland?! I had to be the one, I had to be! Everybody in this
fuckin’ capital has a family, but look at me, all alone! It’s not fair! I’m alive!
Why do all the other living not have to work? I am the only breathing guy
workin’ here! All others got their dead, their phantoms, fuckin’ spirits workin’
for them, cashing in the money and all they do is have fun all day, all night for
years on end, while I’m stuck between ghosts! The time to live is when you’re
alive, but look how I’m wasting my life! A fuckin’ misery! While I still feel, I
have to work to sustain myself and the other spoiled bastards only live far away,
may the gods save ‘em from bein’ near actual work. They don’t even buy their
own food, they got ghosts to do everything for ‘em! Don’t they want those cunts
to shit for ‘em? Don’t they want those suckers to fuck for ‘em?! And why? ‘Cuz
I don’t have shit, I ain’t got nobody! And the fuckin’ government prefers to
gimme a check of a few hours instead of optimising Automated Computing
Units so I and others like me have an easier life or fuckin’ letting me join some
family! Tradition my ass! I spit on ‘national cohesion’ and their bullcrap. I hope
those protesters fuckin’ burn down the Parliament!”
Finishing his salad, he stopped for a second to think.
“No, no, no… Uh!” he stopped for another moment, “I don’t think
clearly, I need to go to sleep. I’m just tired and this was a bad day… I’m
stressed and I don’t think straight… Gosh… What the Doomsland is wrong with
me sometimes?”
Taking off his tunic and throwing it on the chair, he collapsed under the
blanket and faded away into his subconsciousness.

Chapter 2: The Sofa

It was about time to prepare himself for the Gathering. Going through his
closet he skipped over the five pairs of formal long tunics, all having geometric
patterns of black and grey, with the exception of a red and green one.
“Oh my! I haven’t used this since I was promoted three years ago… Time
flies, I hope soon these dark rags will make place some red and blue ones! He-
he! How nice would that be!” he thought as his attention was captured by some
clothes more appropriate for the occasion. Consequently, he had to deal with
choosing between those, not a very hard decision to make since it was more of a
dilemma than a multiple-choice quiz.
“I’d rather try something else; the metaphors are too obvious for this
occasion; it’s been done a million times.”
In a few seconds the battle in his mind was decisively won by the light
goldish-orange silk robe and a pair of simple black and moonlight-coloured
vertical slightly roomy breeches reaching to just below the knees. The other
costume would see the light of the day another time. Something about the white
shirt showing off the shape of the lungs on the chest or the hole over the
intestine’s area, coupled with trousers resembling pyjamas more than anything
else, not to mention the mountains printed on them matching nothing else.
Before going out to get his face and body painted, another choice had to
be done about footwear. He chose a pair of red curly toed boots with fine golden
embroidery of curvy lines on them and left his apartment, closing the door
behind him. He was thinking about ways the night could play out, passing by
his neighbour’s apartments on the way. He could see their entrances, a series of
holes at waist height on wall, large enough to let a cat through. As many of the
occupants were at home, the holes were covered by a metallic plate so that
nobody could see inside. Still, where there was nobody home yet, Aidan could
peek through and see the inside. Most of the apartments had no windows, just
like his, and relied solely on artificial sources of lighting. If there would have
been light, Aidan wouldn’t have seen much anyway, as he discovered when he
got a sneak peek into an apartment with windows once. Just an almost empty
room with a desk and a series of shelves and nothing more.
Taking another bus, he soon arrived at his destination where he would
finish his look. He entered the beauty salon, which was not much different on
the outside from Exelor’s place. Just like almost all the other venues, locals or
enterprises, it was unremarkable and blended with the background on the
outside. The inside was just as luxurious as the restaurant, the same stark
contrast blowing straight into the face of everyone who’d enter. The beauty and
elegance of the salon was contrasted at the same by the screaming of a client
that greeted Aidan upon entering.
“Wherefore art thee incompetent blinking idiot wasting mine own timeth?
I wast supposed to beest done 5 minutes ago! Me hair is barely halfway
finisheth, ‘tis not eft!” yelled the angry customer.
“Mine art the apologies, gentle sirrah, ‘tis wast but a foolish mistake, not
on purpose fo’ me to has’t caused such a discomfort t’thee!” the barber said in a
humble manner.
“Thy fetches shall not giveth me backeth 5 minutes of mine own liveth!
Break thee off and doth thy job prop’rly anon!” the man replied harshly, an
honest disgust in his voice.
There were many clients in the main room, some having their hair done,
others waiting patiently for the paint to dry on their faces. Aidan looked around
and spotted a free chair and occupied it. A worker came to him in a few
moments and the session began.
“What doth thee wisheth, sirrah? Some hair, some paint, nails haply?” she
asked gently, putting a commercial smile on her face.
He wished he could tell her to cut it and act more natural while doing the
job, but he couldn’t. He didn’t wish for the fellow living humans around him to
make a scene out of it. They demanded quality of service on the part of the
employees, even if that included faking a positive attitude or intervening in
others’ business. Even though Aidan’s standards weren’t that high and he didn’t
want to be thrown in the same pot as them; the falseness of the smiles made him
uncomfortable, but the awkwardness inside his head was better than the possible
backlash on the part of the customers.
“Ugh… I wishet sum paent o’ ma’ faice und…Er… Cometh closer!”
Aidan said embarrassed. His stylist came closer so that he could whisper in her
ear.
“I want all of them, just make me look like this picture, please!” and he
showed her on his Portable Television an image of a sketch he made on paper.
He wanted grey paint around his eyes shaped like clouds, black paint in
the shape of a curve along the line of the lower lip and another white one along
the upper lip. A wavy dark blue would cover his face on the lower half of his
face from the nostrils below and a smooth light blue over the rest of his face. On
his forehead he would have a labyrinth of black stripes. They originated from a
vein on the left and the right half of the face that would lead to the neck. From it
his entire visible body would be covered in stripes of blue, white and black that
entangled between themselves in triangular shapes, resembling a cubist
painting. Beneath the chin there would be red X on a white background. The
intricate face painting came at the price of his hair. He wanted it cut short to the
point of looking bald, and any of his facial hair removed.
“Good now sirrah, which is the matter o’ the nails? I doth not seeth
indications…”
“Just forget them; treat them like any part of the body painting.”
He closed his eyes preparing to wait for the next four hours of having his
makeover done, but the unavoidable could not be averted.
“Sirrah, art there matters adding as much as to an ounce o’ dispute or
inconvenience?” asked the man to the seat next to him, suspicious at the
cosmetician and confused by Aidan’s silence.
“’Tis but mine own duty t’express the accordance, in mine own opinion,
o’ the gentleman’s remarks with mine own observations. Such behaviour may
beest o’ concern t’ me eke.” Added some lady inserting herself in the
conversation from the opposite side of the salon, able to see them in the mirror
facing her.
Aidan was thinking at that moment, “Great, I was trying to avoid exactly
this. These brainless fucks have no respect for privacy, morons on the run to
control everything like the shallow lungs they breathe with. I gotta fake
something to get away, some of the guys here will be at the same Gathering…”
and then he explained, playing out his lie,
 “Nay, mine voiced breath” he said between to realistic cough
impressions, “…Sores… I don’ wishet t-” and pausing with another cough
break, “…speak. Maket it worse.”
As soon as he finished, the people were genuinely sorry for causing him
to feel pain in his neck. Trying to be polite, apologies came flooding in from
both sides like two banks of a river overflowing into the fertile valley around it
bringing destruction for the sake of future prosperity.
Glad to have gotten away, he closed his eyes and leaned his head
backwards on the chair. The cosmetician, who this entire time was right there,
sitting awkwardly in silence, went to get her paints and equipment to beautify
her client.
Now properly dressed and ready, he left the place and got into the cab he
had called a few minutes before with his PTV. The driver asked for a
destination and he looked up the Kleinstein household on his GPS navigation
system. It was a smooth ride through the labyrinthine apartment complexes with
the exception of more than usual heavy traffic because of an excess of cars and
cabs alike.
After a little while of driving and listening to music, the flats had been
left behind and they entered the true residential neighbourhood. It might have
seen empty for an untrained eye in the recently darkened streets. Only on the
side of the road, there where streetlights, fences and from time to time gates
with seemingly nothing else. Some of those gates had a path illuminated behind
them leading into the night like a mystery towards a brighter nuance of the sky
nearest to the horizon. It was in front of one of these gates that the cab dropped
him off after fifteen more minutes, with the exception that there was someone
there to welcome the guests.
He wore no special makeup or outstanding dress; he was merely wearing
a purple robe with many bronze and silver horizontal stripes of different widths,
creating a loose interference pattern.
“Hello there and welcome to the Kleinstein Household Gathering!
You’ve arrived just in time, as we still have open seats. I am Armin Kleinstein,
current head of the house and your host for the night. We firmly believe in
having a good time, so you may talk in whichever dialect you are most
comfortable with, though we do appreciate the lengths you went through in
order to have a proper apparel. Please, go inside, and enjoy your stay!” he said,
finishing the introduction speech.
 “It is an honour meeting you! I have all the respect for you and your
descendants. I hope to return the favour in the near future and thus show my
gratitude. Thank you!” he replied, formally bowing to Armin. The owner
showed him the card reader installed on the fence behind him and Aidan used
his card to pay an entire week’s worth of social assistance, and then entered the
yard through the automatically opened gate.
“And I’m Grande Househead Aidan Farefax, Lord of Nothingtown and
Emptyville… Household population, me! ... Doomsland, these formalities! …
But theoretically, if it meant anything, it would be true…” he thought to
himself.
He followed the pathway for two minutes until he ended up in front of the
mansion in the middle of the property. It was a two storied white building
decorated around the windows and between them with a variety of sculptures
and statues depicting mythological stories and the history of the family. Aidan
admired one scene where a tall muscly man was shooting and arrow from the
ground floor, the arrow itself was sculpted at the middle and a monstrous
birdsnake resting by a window right in the way of the arrow.
In front of the porch of the mansion there was a large open paved square
with a marble fountain in front of it. This square was surrounded by almost two
meters of polished white ornamental pebbles after which an expanse of
carefully trimmed bushes, ornamental plants, trees and flowers formed a garden
crossed by a multitude of path. It was truly an almost magical place to get lost
into that so many people called normality.
“Yep… This shit must be expensive as fuck. It must be generations of
worth all spent into maintaining and building this place. Yeah… the damned
house has a larger footprint than my flat…” he thought to himself, circling
around the fountain and admiring the surroundings.
“Man, all these people truly take it for granted… even if it’s not the best
I’ve seen, in fact far from that, I couldn’t afford it if I wanted. Doomsland, I
can’t afford an apartment with windows and I had to save up a whole week just
to crack the wall and buy a door. Sam took me in for that week, one of the best
if I think about it… What’s wrong with me?! No, no, don’t think about that…
You came here to have fun, remember that! I’ll just go inside and pray for the
best.”
As he entered the door, he was taken aback by the loud music and
colourful flashing lights inside. The very first room was the Gathering hall, a
large open space with about two hundred people in strident clothing and
painting, just like him, chatting in a multitude of circles and between them
couples roaming around discussing. At the edge of the room there were tables
full of victuals and soft drinks, with the usual view of people in all kinds of
tunics next to them. Aidan had learned over time how to behave, so he knew not
to repeat the same mistakes, like talking or spending time with them. Instead, he
swallowed his awkwardness and joined one of the groups that was closer to
him.
“Hey everyone!” he said, placing himself between two people that
weren’t talking with each other.
“Well, hello there! To whom do we have the pleasure?” asked a nanny,
bending over and struggling to make her voice heard over the beats of the
drums.
“Aaah… I’m afraid I made a mistake. Do you happen to know where are
some youngsters?”
An elderly man with a skull painted on his face and green long hair
pointed at some guys. Aidan thanked them, leaving for that cluster. It was a
usual mishap, it was hard to distinguish between ages because of the makeup, as
intended.
“Hey guys!” Aidan introduced himself again, “Mind if I join in?”
“No way, welcome dude!” said one of them, his voice slightly vibrating
in accordance to the bass in the song. “Say something, got any hobbies?”
Aidan was glad to be accepted and wasted no time to respond, “Oh, yeah,
I enjoy cooking actually.” Over the years, he learned this was one of the best
replies he could give. Both fascinating to living humans, yet credible and not
too over-the-top. Even better, it had a grain of salt in it, as he did start enjoying
cooking his diner after so many years of being alone.
“Wow! You must be really down to earth to enjoy that, I bet you love
maths!” said one another one them with a slightly higher pitched voice, while
another one agreed, “Yeah, I bet you’re making the best cereals with milk!”
“Well, I did improve from boiling rocks and calling it soup!” Aidan
added, coming back with more self-deprecating sarcasm to keep with the tone.
“So anyway guys, I’d say that my recent trip to the City of Dhilin was by
far the most fascinating.” Continued the man who was interrupted by Aidan’s
arrival. “What do you think?”
 “I never jumped from a plane into a ditch of a Free City, so I can’t that I
can image what it must be like.” Replied a man with flames around his eyes
beneath the sun on his forehead and the fireplace drawn over his mouth and
nose with people sitting around it on his cheeks. “I only flew with a paraglider
over the Soft Mountains to Nan Hay…”
Everyone was impressed by that performance, their expression visible
behind their colourful faces.
“No way he did that, those are over 200 km apart, he must be bullshitting!
And these idiots just take it at face value…” Aidan thought to himself, finishing
to scan the faces of everyone in the circle. “Or maybe they are just poli-… wait
a minute… I know this guy; he got his paint done while I was at the salon!
Fuck, I hope he doesn’t recognize me!” and he kept on showing a curious face
as others continued the discussion.
“I wish I could go to the Soft Mountains, but I can’t before I finish my
math exam. I think it’s unfair, we only live once, but we got all the time in the
world to be dead and learn!” added another one of them.
“Great, a young spoiled brat, he must be together with mister high pitch,
trying to seem cooler and hang out with older dudes… If only it took any balls
to do that. Runaway and go there if you really wanna make your friends
jealous!” Aidan told himself. “His parents must be somewhere here too together
with other baby makers…”
“Yeah, but we all had to go through that, and it’s not that bad… You
could put your upper head to use too while alive, y’know?” commented a
woman wearing entirely white paint on her face, but with black lips and with
the exception of black lines following the lines of her nose and eyebrows and
red between that line and bottom of the eye, running in parallel to it.
The group chuckled collectively and an avalanche of reactions like
‘Nice!’ followed. Aidan had to admit it was a bit funny, but at the same time felt
bad for the kid.
“He’, new-face!” called out one of them. “Watcha dressed as? You be
lookin’ as folks from The Colony, ha-ha!”
“That’s no colony, farm boy!” a man came forth to object. “Our
gentleman looks over here looks just like the folk from Dhilin, I saw them with
my own eyes!”
“No, the costume is obviously in traditional Nan Hay style, just look at
the thin robe, perfect for the humid climate and the airy short pants, let’s be
serious!” argued the man from the salon, trying to impose himself with superior
knowledge. The previous man, seeing how things were going south, stepped out
of the conversation.
“I suppose none of you have finished all your exams… You should
inform yourselves before saying something like that!” a lady intervened with a
condescending attitude. “If you paid attention in class, you’d know that both
The Colony, Nan Hay and the Free Cities are similar in matters of clothing
because of the common origin. Don’t act like you’re only 25. Gents, let’s be
mature. This man obviously just put his own touch on the style!”
“Ooo, look at miss history teacha ova he’er! Knowing betta than from the
books than ‘em who’ve seen it wi’ their own eyes! Get ova thyself!” he said
making a step further inside the circle.
“Art thee implying I doth not knoweth such commonalities at 33? Doth
thee considereth of me a blinking idiot?” the fire-painted man asked
indignantly, pointing his finger aggressively at her.
“Thou bethinkst that thee knoweth all there is to, charact’eristic fo’ beasts
like thyself!” she yelled at the first man, mimicking his behaviour. “And thee
fire-face shouldst prooveth thy knowledge, not merely brag ove’ it!”
“Hey! You, let’s settle this in a civilized fashion! Let’s just us blue-face
what he dressed as.” Intervened the white-painted girl, stepping between the
two.
“I’m sorry, but… actually, she’s right, I was just inspired by that
aesthetic, I like to put my signature on clothes…”
Both men looked at him with despise, almost threatening him with their
eyes while the woman was smirking with satisfaction. The rest of the people
looked at them with tension in the eyes, as if waiting for something to occur.
“Well then, Imma sorry for makin’ a scene, guys, I was just trynna
protect ma’ opinion.” Apologized one of them.
“Yes, my opinion of Dhilin wasn’t too far off, same could be said about
your Colony or his Nan Hay. Thank you for correcting our mistakes.” Said the
man that stepped down when the arguments got heated.
The stares of everyone in the circle were directed towards the man from
the salon, who broke eye contact by looking down and took two seconds of
thinking before replying shamefully,
 “Yeah… My bad too, I guess… I… I’ll go to the restroom.” And he left
right after spearing Aidan with a vengeful glance, not to return to them.
An awkward silence fell on them as the music kept on playing, but
nobody said anything. Aidan seized the moment and asked,
“So… How do you like this Gathering so far? I think it’s a good mid-tier,
not too over the top, but not that bad either.”
“It’s awesome! I haven’t been at anything of this magnitude before! And
the best part is yet to come, soon the booze, smoke and escorts will take over!”
said with a little too much enthusiasm the one with the higher-pitched voice.
“C’mon, kid, what are you, 16? You have barely been to any other
Gatherings before. I think it’s… acceptable...”. The white-faced lady said,
taking a break to show contemplation on purpose.
“Let’s face it, guys, it’s lame! You should come by and take part at a
Gathering at my household! You’d all be daydreaming by now, we got the
highest quality smoke, you can take it in 3 hours without passing out, no
dilution of the effect and there would have been booze instead of this food on
the tables. Live music, not a DJ in the corner and much better entertainment
with professional dancers…” someone else said, showing his pride off by
raising his chest.
“The kid’s right to some degree, we’re yet to get to the jelly of this
thing.” Someone added and then the group kept on chatting and dancing.
The song changed like it had done so many times before, but this time it
was received with much more adoration by the people. One in the group told to
some friend extremely enthusiastically, “’Tis mah jaaam, yooooo!”. The
ensuing dismemberment of the circle in a dance frenzy on the beat, finding pairs
of close friends and close contacts to dance with. As such, Aidan was left to
break himself on the dancefloor with lights flashing in his eyes all alone. When
he got sufficiently away from them, he stopped and went to the tables to grab a
few snacks and drink some water.
“My, how didn’t the guy call me out? Maybe he didn’t recognize me, or
maybe he doesn’t care, or not care enough, who knows? And the nonsense he
was spilling, makes no sense! Huh… my honest most extreme experience was
getting mugged in the back streets of Nan Hay, of all places, and being stuck on
the damn island for two weeks till I got a new bank card to fly back. Life as a
beggar sucks, that much I can tell anyone. And the way people reacted to this in
the past, it’s not what I want to get out of them. I’ve had enough pitiful yet
somehow condescending looks thrown at me.”
He took a break to the restroom, appreciating the toilet and sinks. It
reminded him of his apartment’s bathroom. It used to be his neighbour’s
apartment until he bought it and tore a door-sized door in it and repurposed it.
“Oh, how damn expensive it was to connect to the city’s sewage system
and pay for all the pipes and the digging out of the asphalt… And the kitchen
was just as bad, buying the apartment of the other neighbour and connecting it
to the water and sewage system. Fuckin’ Doomsland, a year’s worth of money,
just so I can get a proper place of my own… Maybe the protestors will change
that, hopefully.”
When he returned to the Gathering room, he had to readapt his ears to the
loud music and epilepsy-inducing light effects. He returned to a table and took
another glass of water, when a person grabbed him by the arms and dragged
him deeper into the dancing crowd.
“I saw you eating and drinking alone and then you came back to drink
alone again… It’s not right, you should be having more fun! Let’s go there!” the
person said, still dragging him behind while was trying his best to bump in as
few people as he could.
Aidan recognized her; she was the white painted lady that started dancing
with some presumably dude when they split up. She took him to the centre of
the room, where three others where dancing and welcomed them.
“I hope you guys don’t mind if we add another one!”
“How could we? C’mon!” said one of them.
Aidan was stuck with them in spite of his desire to take a break, but he
brushed it under the carpet seeing the opportunity of not wasting the entire night
by at least getting close with some people.
“The usual lack of regard for other’s definition of relaxation. But hey,
what is, just is. I could try to impress these guys with some dance moves…” he
thought to himself before breaking on the dance floor.
His moves weren’t particularly complex, but the sheer passion and
confidence behind his moves, synchronising to the beat with robotic precision
were enough to catch the attention of the others. He was joined by another one
from the group and together they started an improvised show, circling one in
front of the other in a melodic symphony of waves, breaks, thrusts and steps. It
stopped when the beat dropped to make room for the next song.
“That was crazy, good moves!” said the other three in a variety of ways.
“Well, yeah, can I say I’ve had a few dance lessons.” Said the other
dancer.
“Huh… I was just going crazy; I already knew the rhythm so I just
improvised. I guess luck and maybe an ounce of talent helped.” Explained
Aidan. “So, anyway, do you know of any interesting news?”
“There is this guy around in Suburb 3 next to where I live and he decided
to start his own household…” said one of them, raising her voice while
lowering the voice to create an atmosphere of gossip, of which the white-faced
lady took advantage of.
“Ludicrous! He’s mad, no way!”
“Oh, you’d better believe it! Just ask anyone of the Greenhill Household!
I’m sure in a few days it might even get in the news.”
“And he has support?! Why is no-one stopping him?” inquired white-face
with confused disbelief.
“Yes, his whole branch wants to break away. They bought a plot of land
and they should be moving houses soon enough. He is supported also by a few
living guys from the family. They say Househead Lloyd Greenhill stopped their
marriages in order to arrange them with their distant cousins from another
branch.” She related to a captivated audience.
“Is that because of money? He’s trying not to have to pay compensations
to the girl’s family… Conservative greedy tombstone, that man!” added with
indignation Aidan’s dance partner.
“Wow! Those boys following him must be blinded by love, to choose a
much poorer life just for them… I think that’s cute, in a weird way.”
commented white-face, with more compassion this time around.
“Eh… I don’t know. In fact, I’ve seen worse! I know of a blinking idiot
who didn’t like the way his house looked and wanted to break off while still
alive! I know that guy like the back of my hand. I also just so happen to know
when he eats, sleeps, goes on trips, cooks, studies or does anything. Yet I don’t
know what was wrong with him at the time.” Aidan replied, a bit of
embarrassment but also light humour emanating from him.
 The rest chuckled with mild laughter, reassuring him,
“Ha-ha, don’t worry man, I think we’ve all have our fair share of idiotic
ideas and plans! Doomsland, what a ride it was to be 15, am I right?” said the
dance partner joyfully.
Of course, it was a blatant lie, but it served its purpose of lightening the
atmosphere and introduce him as a slightly funny guy with his particular sense
of humour.
They continued to chat about a variety if subjects, beginning with other
embarrassing moments from their younger days and danced along to the beat
until it dropped and instead of continuing, there was silence.
The doors in the back opened and everybody started cheering. Even
though he couldn’t see anything, he knew exactly what was the reason for the
joy.
“Let’s get closer to those Tunics, the games are about to begin and I want
to have a great view.” One of them proposed.
“Look, they are bringing the tables! Anyone here wants to compete with
me? I don’t have a liver of steel, but I can take a drink or two…” Aidan asked.
“Maybe, let’s see what they have to offer.” Replied somebody else.
They got good places near the massive elaborately decorated wooden
table carried at each corner by a Tunic, while others arranged the table with a
variety of drinks and glasses. After they were finished, Armin Kleinstein
addressed the crowd that had formed around a table, speaking down to them
from on top of it, walking along the table, passing right through the bottles laid
on it.
“Let us begin the games by a simple house-chess round. Let the sharpest
mind and liver of steel win!” he declared getting down from the table as a few
people took seats at the table in pairs of two, one in front of the other, ready to
play house-chess with the glasses of wine and liquor shaped like playing pieces
on the game table in front of them. Aidan analysed the variety of pieces he had,
“Huh… Alright, I got a Househead, his wife, second and third guys in
command, four workers, two elders and ten living dudes, that’s all of them.”
Each glass was getting larger as the piece it represented got older. Aidan
considered his strategy,
“So… Yes, if I sacrifice enough livings to advance to the other side, I’ll
be able to turn my workers to Househeads and then I should be able to take him
out. I’ll try to make him loose some pieces so he gets drunk before I do. Let’s
go, woah!” he thought.
His plan ended up working to some extent. He lost the vast majority of
his living pieces, but the alcohol content was small enough for him to still be
able to concentrate in spite of the music and cheers in the background. Three of
his four workers managed to make it through and advanced to the rank of
Househeads, the glasses where exchanged for the proper bigger ones.
“Ok, so he thinks this is a really bad move, but I hope my new-earned
mobility will give me an edge. Now he’ll try to get one of my bigger pieces, so I
should sacrifice one to attack from the back with my two elders and then
counter-attack with the new Househeads… Let’s see how it goes!”
It was the moment of truth, and to Aidan’s relief, his opponent fell into
the trap. While at first, he himself looked to be more intoxicated, the end his
adversary couldn’t sit straight and was locked in the chair until a Tunic took
him away. Aidan was cheered by the group of acquaintances he met that night.
He looked together with them at a few more matches and at the beginning
of a new game, which was just a roulette, where betting on drinking and
challenges ran wild, but was not as fascinating or engaging to look at. So, they
returned to dancing together with them.
Aidan was moderately dizzy, but he the dance moves seemed to help a
little, moving his head helping him keep his focus point for more than a few
seconds. He was surprised when the white-painted lady took his hand again
groaned,
“Hm! Hm!”, after which the other three left with a grin on their face.
Finding himself alone with her, Aidan’s heart began to beat faster,
“Oh, my…” he thought, intimidated and afraid, “Why now?” and then he
fought his own thoughts “No, no, no, this is what you came here for… Have a
fun enough time and meet someone… Just do it!”
“So… What’s the meaning of the drawings on your face?” she inquired
curiously.
“Ugh, so you can see the different shades of blue, one being painted all
circle-ly and wave-ly and the other more straight, which are not so hard to
realise that represent the view form a ship in the middle of the sea.” He replied
fast and almost instantly, barely thinking about what he was saying, his words
spilling out of his mouth in a natural flow. “The grey around my eyes are
clouds, the black stripe under my lips is meant to be a boat and white is a
rainbow with all the colours combined. I think you’re smart enough to realise
that this is all…” he said and waited for her to complete his sentence.
“Metaphorical, am I wrong? And the united rainbow is a symbol of
unity?” she asked, intrigued by his story,
“First question, no, second question, what can I say, I am somewhat of a
genius myself, my humility prevents me from taking over the world in fact!” he
said and heard her short laughter, sensing a smile on her face, even though he
barely could focus on her face.
“So anyway, I am on the boat and the ocean represents life in all its
vastness. It’s so vast, and the future is unpredictable, you don’t know when a
storm is coming or when you’ll find land, if you find land, just like luck and
faith guide our lives. However, the rainbow is more than just unity within
yourself, it’s also a good omen, a sense of hope towards a bright future. And
here, under my chin, there is this red cross that represents the sacrifices made
along the way that nobody can see, like a personal reminder of the cost of life.”
This was the interpretation he gave her, not saying that the cross was
actually him and everyone else was on the boat. He was forgotten, unseen,
struggling under the sea that is life while everyone else had a smooth boat ride,
referring to his economic situation and the inequality, a representation of his
feeling of not belonging.
“Wow, that is impressive! You really like to make your mark on
everything, from your clothes to your painting. It’s much better than some of
the things I’ve seen here. Fire all over your face? Can you make yourself any
more obviously energetic and self-absorbed?”
“Well, it could mean sacrifice to light other’s paths, but I don’t think the
person we are referring to is bright enough for that.” Aidan explained, getting a
laugh from her and immediately apologizing for his dad joke.
“No, really, it’s no problem, it hit just right this time.”
“What about you? Your painting is pretty… blank.”
“You see, that’s the point! I am a canvas, I am yet to be defined, I am yet
to achieve greatness or failure, but what I do have is powerful lines along the
edge of the nose and eyebrows, eyes, and dark lipstick. These are strategically
placed in the most defining and recognizable zones of the face. It means that no
matter what the painting turns out to be, those lines will still be there. It is what
defines me. My life isn’t done, and I don’t know what is ahead, if it’s going to
be great or awful, but no matter what I will still be me, some things never
change no matter what happens, and those are who you truly are.” She related,
looking into his half-glazed eyes, trying to read his face, but failing to do so.
Aidan gave her a review and his opinion on the subject,
“I like the message, it’s like one of those paintings that are like two lines
and a lot of people can’t accept that to be art, but they don’t really see behind
the appearances, they only see the outside. Everything has to be beautiful and
extravagant these days, every room and every corner, one can’t rest their eyes
properly. Cooking for example is both simple, complex, ugly, beautiful,
stressful and rewarding at the same time. That’s why I like it and choose
simplicity when cooking. And speaking of hobbies, I didn’t quite get to hear
any of yours. Mind to tell me more?”
She was glad to be able to both have a good conversation with him
despite his condition.
“Well, I like travellin-” she said before being interrupted by Aidan.
“Na-na-na, I want something real. Don’t tell me you are so boring as to
begin with travelling. Everybody does that, it’s boring! It’s almost irrelevant
these days with its commonness!” he argued.
She, on the other hand, smirked, seeing that he had at least a mild interest
in getting to actually know her.
“Then, as there is no point in telling you about travelling or usual arts like
painting or poetry, I’ll be a little braver and tell you about my passion for…
driving cars!” he said enthusiastically.
“Now, that’s more like it! Let’s see, why?”
“Well, I’m not too bad at the traditional occupations, but something about
controlling the steering wheel and going somewhere, seeing how you make the
world bow to your speed and how you take your destiny in your own hands,
how just a mistake could end your life and you have so much power at the
moment… There’s something about that which is just attractive to me, I just
can’t put my finger on what…” she said sarcastically.
“Heh, I get you, though that’s just the reason why I keep my driving to
the minimum and just have a taxi or somebody from my household drive me
around. I’ll drive enough when I’m dead.” Aidan said, explaining his point of
view.
“Well, yeah, but you also won’t feel the rush anymore.”
 “Fair point. And you also can’t drink anymore! I might have exaggerated
a bit with the house-chess game, but I can smell you also had a glass or two!”
“Well, that’s part of the reason why we’re all here, right?”
“Yes, I guess… But how do I know you’re not lying just to impress me
with this driving hobby of yours?”
“Wait a second… First, how do I know you are not the one faking it?
How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you can cook?” she
asked curiously but in a serious manner at the same time, almost as if realising
something new.
Sensing an opportunity, Aidan replied,
“I really have no idea, maybe I should explain how any dish being served
here is prepared or… Should I invite you over to my place to discover by
yourself? I am lost…” and he pretended to contemplate by making a face and
concentration sounds, while in his mind he was praying not to have ruined the
moment or rushed the conversation.
She was taken aback by this boldness and then, after taking a break, she
continued with a question, “I don’t know… What house are you from?”
Aidan slapped himself in his mind to focus. It was happening. It actually
worked, but he didn’t want to seem too interested or too eager, so he was going
to tell her only what she asked, the house, and then make up some lies like he
had done before to not be a the odd one out.
“I am of the Farefax Household!” he replied proudly.
“Farefax? I never heard of it!” she exclaimed surprised, not sure if it was
a good thing or a bad one.
“I came from pretty far just for a friend that invited me, he wanted to
make sure people would come here, a descendant of the host, Johnny
Kleinstein. He’s a Tunic, but I try not to be too exclusive with my friends.”
“What Suburb?”
“93. Pretty far from 2 here, but Johnny got a job at an office here for the
capital. How about you?”
“Well, I’m fairly local, Suburb 6, about an hour and a half ride from here.
I’m from the Freedomfighter Household.”
 Aidan’s heart skipped a beat when he heard what she had to say next, on
a familiar and welcoming voice,
“Name’s Ira.”.
“What the Doomsland, this is serious… this hasn’t actually happened in
an entire year! This is getting somewhere! Yeah! Now, prepare to be
disappointed in the morning… Oh, no… No, no, no, don’t turn sad, Aidan, be
lively, don’t fuck it up… Urgh.. Just don’t! Have a few more glasses, yeah, that
should ease this…”
“And I am Aidan, it’s nice to meet you.” He said, not bothering to ask for
a meeting tomorrow or that weekend, because it was implied just by having the
name exchange that something like that would happen. “Now, I’m going to get
a few more drinks if you don’t mind.”
She responded with a contempt smile on her face, “Yes, see you later!
I’m going to meet up with the other guys.”
Aidan got at the table, where a new game had begun in the meantime,
where all kinds of people were shooting with wine and liquor or beer from toy
guns into each other’s mouth and all over their clothes. Aidan ignored them as
much as he could and shoot himself some in his mouth.
“Woah… Yeah… That was crazy, definitely crazy… All these shallow
living people… I found one with at least a change of looking past what this
world says… Nay… I shouldn’t be so excited; I remember how it went down
last time I got to this point… Maybe she’s not even that interested and I am just
making a fool of myself… Or maybe I can’t see things properly… or some
other possibility… Oh, Birdsnakes and Seagles, no… Shit… I feel like fuck…
Better this than an… abortion… Fuckin’ shit…”.
Now he was really struggling to make sense of the world around him. The
music seemed slower and quieter, even though it most likely wasn’t and he felt
the world was really spinning like a carrousel; this world being nothing more
than a conglomeration of lights and vague shapes, the flashing colours turning
him effectively blind, unable to distinguish much of anything.
“Hey, you!” someone shouted at him. “Smartass, I know you! Honourless
liar, we met at the salon, if you remember, fucking idiot! Huh, do you remember
me? Tell me, why did you have to whisper?! Speaketh Lavonian! Speaketh thy
tongue o’ the nation, o’ the folk!”
 “I don’t feel well… Shut up… Whatever… No… I- I think…” he
mumbled, pretending to be even worse than he actually was in order to escape
the quarrel.
“What the Doomsland are you doing here? You see this guy is wasted,
you attack him at his lowest, scum?! Dare you call him honourless when you hit
on the weak?! Get out!” ordered Adalbert Kleinstein, a Tunic that happened to
be supervising the area. He took the fire-painted man by the hands and took him
outside to find out his name in order to make a complaint and kick him out.
“T-Thanks…” Aidan replied to what saw at that point nobody, still
playing the character.
A few genuinely stumbling steps later, he managed to find a sofa after
falling only once. He took a seat and realised that the party was about to get
closer to the climax because of the sofas. If there was one, there surely
would’ve been more. In a few minutes, the spectacle should be starting. And he
was right, of course.
The lights changed from the bright and colourful flashing sparks to a dim
red barely enough to see what was in front of him. Many others where leaving
guided by Tunics and others where on sofas next to his. In a second, he also
heard somebody take a seat next to him. The doors in the back opened again and
a variety of Tunics and way fewer humans, but also a few living ones, of both
genders entered the room. The music also changed to a truly slow beat. A
familiar voice called in front of him,
“Here you were, I was looking for you!”
He knew it was Ira, so he made his best to understand the overlapping
shades of black and red coupled with her normally green clothing that almost
faded into the black, the white of her face being the only truly distinguishing
feature. Aidan did his best to seem as sober as possible, the results of his
attempts being impossible evaluate at the moment. Surely the low light helped,
so he controlled his voice and invited her with a hand gesture. Around that time,
he started hearing moans from whoever was next to him.
“Left pocket, let me take it out, fine?”
“You’re wasted enough either way and I’m taking care of it. If you can’t,
I’ll just call one Tunic and three is fine enough.”
The alcohol worsened with time and Aidan was surprised he hadn’t
thrown up yet. The next 30 minutes here a total mess, an soup of overlapping of
slimy colours and blurry shapes without form in a labyrinth of moaning sounds
and screams, a vague feeling of special numbness coming from the lower half of
his body and an occasional signal of something happening, maybe a touch or a
punch over his arms, torso and a weird taste that satisfied his growing thirst in
the slightest of possible bits. All he was aware was that he also made a few
sounds, but he didn’t know what.
After about 30 minutes of this, a funny pleasant smell tickled his nostrils.
It was it, the smoke. The climax of the party. He was too wasted to run. He
expected to be offered a cigar, but his mouth was in that slightest of bits wet for
a moment, so he knew nobody gave him one.
“’moke… cei-lin’… Aaaah…” he groaned happily and enthusiastically,
not the way he wanted, his intention being to scream for help. It was at that
point that he lost all consciousness and the numbness reached the deepest parts
of his mind, a constant hallucination taking over the mosaic of colours. He
faded in and out of this hallucination he couldn’t comprehend until he went to
sleep for good.

Chapter 3: The punch

Aidan woke up the following day in a well-lit room and an extremely

comfortable large bed inside another lavishly decorated room. His arms where
above the blanket and he examined them together with his surroundings.
“Fine, so… Ugh… If I know where I am, then there should be the
haemodialysis machine.” And searching around the left side of the room he
discovered the machine next to his bed.
“Yeah… this is the hospital. Look, a banana bag next to the machine. I
probably had one of those, or maybe they just connected me to the machine, by
the marks left on my arm. Oh, my paint is gone, they really took good care of
me.”
He made more sense of his environment in a few seconds, discovering
another guy in a bed next to him still blacked out. Next, he pressed almost
instinctually the button on the side of his bed, calling a nurse.
“Thou art awakened! Best o’ days t’thee!” a nurse dressed in a turquoise
and golden tunic greeted him, coming empty handed in the room. “Thou hast
had a marvellous night, I s’pposeth. Anon that thee art awakened, mind t’relay
t’me how doth thee feel?”
 “I’m fine, just a little lightheaded, but it’s alright, I’ve been through this
many times before, so it’s no problem for me. May I ask you what’s the time
and where more exactly I am?” he replied, wishing to skip over the formalities
as soon as possible.
“Umm… yes, mister…” she said unnerved by his dialectal speech.
“You’re in Suburb 3 General Hospital, which is the closest to the Gathering you
have been collected from. If you wish to know, at the moment it’s one past
noon.”
“One past noon?! And in Suburb 3? I wo-… I live in Suburb 2! I’ll be
later for… my arts lessons!” he said, struggling to be less weird and not reveal
that he was employed and was going to be late for work. “I’m really fine, can I
leave?” he asked impatiently.
“Yes, mister, wait a second until I get the papers you need to sign and
you’re free to go. The host of the Gathering is paying for the medical bill, so
you’ll be on your way as soon as possible.” She said, leaving the room without
opening the door.
This was awful, he didn’t announce that he would be late and worst of all,
he wasn’t going to be paid for the day.
“Yeah, great! Oh, Doomsland, this was not supposed to go down like
this. Try to remember what happened… So, I was there at the Gathering and it
went well enough, I even made contact with some Ira girl… I drank and… this
weird dude was yellin’ at me and… Wait, do I have my bank card?” he checked
his right poker in a rush under the blanked and he felt it, together with his PTV.
Finding it calmed down his racing heart and drowned him in relief. Then the
panic returned crashing like a wave as he checked his left poker and felt a
rectangular shape in it.
“Why do I still have this? No…no… what have I done?!” he asked
himself worried at the prospect of having ruined his month. “I really hope I
didn’t do nothin’ retarded.” He reassured himself as more details came back to
him. “Hm, wait a second! That would be impossible, that’s one of the reasons I
drank so much besides just to let myself go. And about that, how could I get so
wasted? I did exaggerate, but I should have been able to stay awake till it went
away and not end up here. I was on a couch and my head hurt, not like it does
now, but worse, and I was so confused… Fuck, I have more reasons to check on
that hoe, that’s for sure! I need to know exactly what happened. The last thing I
remember was a kind of calming feeling and a nice odour. If I think about it, I
kinda miss the smell…”
 His heart skipped a beat when re realized the nature of the odour and why
he was missing it.
“B-but… I don’t smoke, I never did and no matter how messed up I get
I’d never do it. Only if that bitch didn’t drug me! The piece of shit! I’ll make
her confess everything! I’ll-”
The train of thought was cut off suddenly when the nurse opened the door
holding a pen and some papers in her hand.
“I’m back. Just sign these papers and are free to go.” She said handling
the papers.
While signing his name, he asked the nurse, “Do you have methadone at
the pharmacy?”
She squinted her eyes and tried to clarify, “Um… Sir, I think you mean
the substance in the cigars, which is Khalaroxin. Methadone is used to treat the
withdrawal effects.”
“No, I know what I want, thank you very much!” he said annoyed by the
presumptions made about him. “I don’t regularly use it, but last night I did, so I
want to smoothen the transition
“Oh…” she replied surprised. “Well, yes, you can buy some, right off the
counter, as usual. It won’t be covered by the Gathering Insurance though.”
“No problem, I got it. Bye!” he said returning the papers and leaving the
room.
He made his way through the halls and cabinets with decorations of
heavy dark wood and wallpaper depicting different scenes of mythology. One of
them portrayed a seagle coming out of the dead body of a dead birdsnake. Right
next to it was another scene of where it attacked the powerful man that had shot
the birdsnake dead.
After getting the pill from the pharmacy at the ground floor, he went to
the exit of the hospital, making large steps to leave the place as fast as he could.
He kept his focus point to the door right in front of him, carefully avoiding
glancing at the sides of the corridor. He had to stop when some people came
from a cabinet on the left side of the hall, blocking his way. They were a tunic-
wearing doctor, followed by another tunic-wearing person and two elderly
living people dressed glamorously, both of them looking sad and emotional, like
someone after failing to get a promotion or a student getting a worse grade than
they expected. The normal Tunic couldn’t stop talking, constantly reminding the
other two to brighten their smiles and prepare for the funeral they were having
later that day.
“Art you in need o’ a taxi?” asked the doctor, actually caring only
halfway for the well-being of the three.
“Nay, we art well, Doctor, we shall go through this smoothly. Eke, we
shall calleth a taxi by our own selves. Respects t’thee!” said one of them.
“And I am joyous I has’t did guess in a rightly manner mine own
Artefact!” added the Tunic, looking at the pocket of the human closest to them
where there was a bank card.
“Alright. The corpse shall be delivereth t’yee at the scheduled time.” the
doctor replied, after which he departed, going right through Aidan.
Aidan couldn’t take it anymore and just rushed through the Tunic out
the door, saying aggressively ‘M’pardon!’ as he left the building. He kept on
running until the hospital was well behind him. When he stopped, he took a
break to breathe. He accidentally took a look at the door of the cabinet, and he
had its image in front of him, seeing it clear as day. He felt he could touch the
goldened letters writing on the door, ‘Assisted Suicide Department’. His heart
began to palpitate and a wave of heat, accompanying stress and panic, flowed
through his veins and muscles, smashing against his bones, the waves breaking
violently and splashing shivers of despair like droplets of water on dry sand. He
began to sweat and his hand quivered lightly.
“Stop it, Aidan, calm down… Calm down! I SAID CALM DOWN! Why
can’t you calm down, piece of shit?! You fail calming down, you joke of a
human, how can you fail this? How do you expect to do anything if you can’t
calm down! You’re over it! You said you were over it, why aren’t you over, you
should be over it! How can you still be like this?!” he thought, having all these
thoughts coming in quick succession, punching his mind like a boxer hits their
training sack. Then, he took a deep breath which gave him enough mental
silence to take back control,
“NO! Breath again…” and he took another deep breath, “And do it
again…” as he repeated the action. “Now, this is only an episode, you saw the
door, it can’t hurt you anymore… Oh, Willy…, Jenny…! No, don’t think about
it. Pfu! That’s right, it’s alright, call a cab, just… call a cab… and go to work
and talk to Sam maybe, no… surely, it will be fine. Doomsland, fuck it!”
He called a taxi and it arrived after him in about 3 minutes. He explained
to the Tunic-wearing driver where his office was and sat on the backseat in
silence. Inside his mind though, he was dodging bullets, struggling to control
his ideas like a rodeo rider giving his best to keep his balance and predict the
movements of bull in order to redirect his centre of mass.
“So, it is almost gone, very well… Damn those doors, why can’t they at
least not write with big and sparkly letters like it’s something to celebrate?
Urgh… Those cabinets took everything away from me, and what did I get in
return? Only Sam, indirectly, but he’s not worth the price. Every time I see
those doors, I remember my younger days.” He chuckled in his mind, “as if it
was so far ago, it’s only been ten years since I left that orphanage as the only
living person to go to work. My friends that went to the cabinet… never came
back, and they’re all gone now, taken away after a few years at the Cleansings.
Reminds me of those days, of the temptation to join them, but I just couldn’t… I
love to feel, I love to live. I better stop thinking about it! The attack is gone, I
feel much better. I’ll still talk out the last remnants of this with Sam at the
coffee break. Urgh, I’m already tired!”
He paid the price of 2 Hours for the one-hour ride and joined his co-
workers, still dressed in his living clothes. He apologized many times for this
attire, and to his closer colleagues even explained the reason for his absence and
improper presentation.
When reaching his cubicle, Aidan was surprised to find his desk empty of
all papers. He checked in at the machine in order to get paid for the time he
spent at work and headed for the last cubicle of Aisle N, number 20, where Sam
was working on copying and completing documents.
“Hi man, how’s it going?” Aidan asked light heartedly.
Sam pulled his head out of sea of boring useless bureaucracy with a
serious, dead face that lightened at once when he saw Aidan looking at him. He
stood up and greeted him.
“Woah, I didn’t see you coming over! Ehe…I see you have had a haircut!
I thought you’d skip a day as I figured you listened to what I told you yesterday.
Glad to see ya, man! Wanna talk about it at a coffee?”
“I can’t really, I guess I have a lot of work waiting for me somewhere and
almost no time to finish it.”
“Why do you think my desk is so busy? I figured I could help you and did
your stack too.” He replied spanking the tower of dead, processed trees next to
him. “And I am halfway through my stack, so I have enough time to take a
break.” He added, smiling proudly.
 “Oh, what would I do without you? You’re the best, let’s go then!”
The two left for the corner of the room where the coffee machine was.
The two sat down and Aidan prepared his coffee. He asked Sam how things
have been at work while he was gone, waiting for the coffee to be prepared.
After it was ready, he casually asked Sam while waiting for his coffee to cool
down,
“So, not much around here. You say boss hasn’t even noticed my
absence? That event with Sally must be really affecting Jeff!” he whispered and
followed it with a short burst of laughter.
“Yeah, he’s been really with his head up in the clouds lately. That’s too
weird of a coincidence.” Sam replied, forcing a smile and what was more of a
loud exhalation of air than a laugh.
Aidan didn’t pick up the clues and continued light-heartedly, “So, wow
have been things like at home? How’s your daughter doing with her maths?”
“She’s fine…” he uttered with a low voice. His face looked off to Aidan,
but he quickly realised what was happening.
“Did she fail her exam? Just talk it out, whatever you got on your mind”
Aidan reacted. “I can see by your eyes you’d cry.” He continued, after noticing
the glassy eyes, but with the distinct lack of tears.
“No, Eddy, she’s fine, it’s just… Something bad happened, man, the
news came last night and… and it’s just awful. Y’know my uncle, Josh, the one
in the military, we talked about his exercise yesterday…” Sam took a break
before following with, “He’s dead, man! Fucking dead! Like gone, for real!
Permanently, forever!” he said sobbing, falling through his chair on the floor.
Aidan felt sorry for him on multiple levels. He had lost a significant
person in his life and, unlike a living person, had no way of getting it out. Tears
would not fall from his eyes, he would not feel a lump in his throat when
holding back sobbing, only headaches, and if he gave in, he no longer had the
willpower to concentrate his energy on interacting with the material world.
Instead, he used it to sob his pain.
“I’m so sorry, c’mon here buddy! It’s alright, you can tell me everything.
D’you what happened to him?” Aidan asked standing up straight. He knew that
Tunics had the built-in ability of not having to concentrate on their feet to
interact with the ground. As an adaptation to the constant interaction with the
ground, they had to concentrate not to interact with their feet, like Armin
Kleinstein did at the party when showing off his skills and delivering a speech
of the table at the Gathering.
Sam got up and stood in front of him and resumed his ranting, “Thanks,
you’re like a brother… H-He… It was an accident, an explosion on board. He
was close to the tank when a leak occurred and the ship just… exploded. He
was with the guy holding his Artefact, so it was destroyed in the explosion…
And now he’s fuckin’ gone! He stood no chance! At least they’ll pick up the
rest off the bottom of the sea, but he’s gone, for good! Uncle Josh… Man, I
spent the last 200 years with him, some beautiful years while I was alive too,
he’s… was my actual uncle, not a distant cousin or whatever! I can’t re-live
those times! I’ll never get him back! It’s been decades since I lost anyone,
Eddy, I… I forgot how it felt, and how frustrating it is! I can’t express myself! I
want to cry, I want to hit something, touch something, but that would mean not
sobbing, getting a headache, and I can’t just brush it off! No meds, no sleepin’ it
out of your system, no sweet release of unconsciousness, just… plain insomnia,
I don’t know what to compare it to so that you can understand how it feels…
Man, it sucks… I feel like shit and I can’t run, I just have to take my mind off it
and… Fuck!”
Aidan sat in silence, looking at him straight in his eyes as a tear dragged
along his cheeks. It made Sam feel a little better, even laugh for a second in
irony. He smiled when he told Aidan,
“You! You just know what I need!” and he nodded him as if to refresh his
mind. “That’s what I’d do… Thanks man!” as Aidan continued to tear up, his
eyes read kind mercy, both empathy and sympathy, not pitifulness. Sam thanked
him still, “I missed seeing those. Nobody that care that much about him can cry
anymore. None of us still loving him can show it like you do.
Calming down a little, he whispered to Aidan,
“I can’t talk to anybody here about it, they just look weird at me. Most
haven’t lost someone in decades, some in centuries… I too forgot how it feels,
it’s not their fault.” And returning to his normal voice he said, “It’s good to see
someone understand me, I needed that. You’re the best, man!”. If his eyes could
tear, right now his sadness ones would mix with happiness equivalents. “Now
drink your coffee before it cools down.”
The two sat down and while Aidan was drinking, they chatted again
about his night at the Gathering,
 “So, how was your night? Did you score anything, heh?” Sam inquired
with the attitude of a grandpa asking their grandkids where is there boyfriend or
girlfriend.
“You’re not gonna believe it, but it was awesome! I think it was one of
the best nights I’ve had in a while, thanks for telling me. And yes, I did! I
actually did!” Aidan replied enthusiastically, playing excellently his role in the
play. He could see Sam’s impressed expression as he said,
“Oh, really? Man, tell me those details, my ears are hungry for some!”
“So, it was crazy. In the beginning, great music, dancing, talking to
people, the usual shthingy shthing, but it starts going crazy once the booze
comes! So, you may know that I am somewhat of a genius superior to all other
beings on this planet, but very humble. I used my intellect to win a whole
house-chess game, the pieces being obviously glasses that you had to drink if
your opponent caught them. I was celebrated as the winner, obviously, and then
some random jealous dude showed up and started harassing me, the master
warrior trained at the best schools of Dead Island, capable of winning a 1o1
with the King of the Departed! It naturally escalated into a fistfight!” Aidan
related, showing proper body gestures and faces to go along with his story.
“Nay, mayne, Oi can’t bilieve ye!” he said busting into genuine laughter
for once. “And what did you do afterwards?”
“Well, it’s a bit blurry, I have to admit, but I remember punching him 2,5
centimetres above his slightly elongated jawline on his alcohol-induced red
cheeks with a force of 5.2 kg falling from a height of half a meter. Or maybe
that’s how he hit me, as I said, I don’t recall it perfectly. What I can say for sure
is that it ended up with him kicked out off the property!” Aidan smiled himself
as Sam chuckled and then he continued “I have a prediction! You sir… are
curious about more indecent stuff. Well, her name is Ira Freedomfighter.”
“What?!” Sam exclaimed as if gold started falling out of the sky. “A
Freedomfighter? And you got to exchanging names, pfu! That’s hot! You’re an
actual lucky bastard! That’s a jackpot! Man, sometimes I wish I’d be you!”
“Why?” Aidan asked confused. “I mean, yeah, she’s rich, her Househead
often gets elected in Parliament or wherever, but that makes her wait out of my
league. Doesn’t mean that I’m not gonna try tho!” he continued pointing his
index finger at Sam emphasise his intention.
“That’s the point. She’s filthy rich, the Freedomfighters have a series of a
few subbranches, that’s how hard they are to manage. With her family in a
position like that, you just have to get her to like you and the court will approve
your adoption file, unlike the refuse that usually happens with normal people.”
Sam explained.
“So, you’re advising me to abuse my potential power to corrupt the
system in my favour. You’re advocating corruption!” Aidan replied with an
obvious sarcasm that made Sam play into it.
“Well, technically yes, but it’s not corruption if you are the disadvantaged
one! In that case it’s… forced equality! You can’t oppress anyone if you are
oppressed yourself, can you?” he said rolling his eyes.
Aidan laughed this time around, breaking the accumulated joke tension
by doing so. When he finished, he said,
“Ok, I’ll think about it. So, we did a few things that I can’t discuss here
aaaaand…” he paused, taking out of his pocket the methadone pills and
throwing them on the table.
“To soothe the transition from the Khalaroxin to nothing.”
Sam picked them up to inspect and said while doing so, “Eddy, last night
you had the time of your life! You even smoked, what happened to you? You
never do that, you’re strictly against that. You can’t be Aidan Farefax I know;
somebody must have replaced you with a ten times more interesting dude!”
Sam returned the pills and Aidan finished his coffee. After he had his last
sip, Sam addressed him.
“Look, we’ve talked for enough time. I have to get back to work before
they fire me.”
“Alright then, let’s go!”
“No, I have a favour I want to ask you. Can I finish all those papers by
myself? I just want something to keep my mind off the bad news.”
“I can’t just wimble around here doin’ nothin’! What if Jeff inspects us?”
“Don’t worry, he won’t notice. Just go to the toilet and watch something
on your PTV, I don’t know. Enjoy yourself, you would’ve deserved this day off.
I just do your job and you cash in the cheese. Don’t get used to it tho!” Sam
replied and the two departed for the rest of the day.
Locking himself in the toilet, Aidan not only wasted time looking at the
news on the protestors, he also thought about how he had to lie to make Sam
feel better. Being reminded of the downsides of being a Tunic, he was glad he
decided not to kill himself all those years ago at the orphanage, unlike most of
the friends he made there. Mainly only the girls survived, if they were pretty.
They married into richer families of normal people. None of the boys managed
to attract someone willing to sacrifice everything and live in poverty for them.
This was the fate of most unattractive girls as well, unable to attract someone.
By the time he was 25 he was the only one of the kids he grew up with alive, the
rest going into the Assisted Suicide Department or marrying and moving in with
their spouse. Many times, he was doubtful, consumed by insecurity and fear of
having done a mistake by clinging onto life in spite of what everyone was
doing, choosing an impoverished life. That was how he got his first job and his
current one, through connections he had to Sam’s Household. Jenny, one of his
best friends had married a descendant of Sam and escaped the vicious cycle.
She supported him in spite of not having seen him in years and made sure he
would be paid double, so that he could afford food and a place. They grew apart
over time, but he got closer to Sam, because he didn’t look at him with pity or
considered him too much of a weirdo. Otherwise, he made friends with a few
people by frequenting the same shops and facilities or in much rarer cases, by
participating in social events designed to break the social barriers, like the
Gatherings.
He was woken up from his trance in front of the screen by the sounds of
people passing by.
“Doomsland, look at the time! I overstayed here, now everybody gets out
from work. Now I have to go at rush hour, great!” he thought to himself as he
exited the toilet.
The hallways of the office building were full of workers on their way out.
Aidan was like a fish swimming downstream trying to avoid the rocks of some
rapids. He constantly excused himself along the way, either passing through
people or avoiding them if they didn’t let or notice him. Once he got outside, he
got more space to breathe.
“Damn, we’re in need of some Cleansing!” he exclaimed in his head,
awed with an underlying sense of fear at the sight of the streets at rush hour.
He could see well enough from the top of the staircase above the street
sidewalk how rows of people exited every building like water released through
floodgates of a dam into the valley of the streets. Every few meters there was
either a taxi, a personal car or a bus loading with passengers. They sucked the
masses like sponges but failed to loosen the density of the crowd, still packed
like grains of sand on a beach. The quanta of this sand were pairs of two
persons that stayed together closer than usual, each caring the other’s Artefact.
The bustling atmosphere was complemented by the indistinct noise of chatter
eradiated from the horde of individuals, rising above like water vapours over the
waves made by their heads as they were walking and bending their knees. The
colour of this amalgamation was distinct, a variety of darker nuances
constituting the foam above the actual content of the mass, which was a
blinding mess of colourful stripes and geometric shapes of all colours except
purple. Among these, akin to bubbles in a drink, people dressed differently
stood out. One here, one over there, wearing anything but tunics, like a piece of
puzzle’s jigsaw that doesn’t feel like it should belong where it is.
“Damn, we are many…” Aidan whispered. “Well, soon enough the
streets will be a lot clearer! The days before the cleansing will be a true
nightmare!” he continued in his head.
He waited on top of the stairs next to the entrance for about 10 minutes,
after which the flood stopped, with the exception of a snake of vehicles stuck in
traffic. It was time to go. As his stomach dictated, his next destination would be
Exelor’s Restaurant.
“Aaaa! Mister Farefax, it’s an honour having you here! To whom shall
we thank for your presence?” Judy greeted him at the reception, opening up her
arms but not going any further.
“You should thank my belly; it keeps on demanding something but I’m
not sure why. Doctor, do you have any remedy?” Aidan replied playfully.
“Haha! Nice! I can recommend you some high-quality elongated pasta
tubes. They should fix you. Unfortunately, you came again at the worst possible
moment, the private cabinet are all occupied.” She said, lowering her head with
disappointment.
“No problem. I’ll be waiting for my meal at the great dining room.”
“Before you go, what’s up with your hair and clothes?” she asked.
“Long story, I’ll tell you later. For the moment you need to know that I
went at a Gathering and this got waaaay out of control.” He replied, smiling
before turning his back, marching towards the dining room.
Aidan was waiting once again at a table alone for his meal. The same
waitress that he first met two days before came in and headed for a table for
two. Unlike then, she wasn’t neither joyous nor were her movements as
animated as they had been then.
 “Excuseth me!” the man from that table yelled in her face as loud as he
could, expanding his own voice over everyone else’s.
The plate with the drinks and foods Karol brought fell through her palms,
as the contents were spilled all over the floor.
“Mine own apologies, ‘tis was not an intention o’ mine!” said the man,
not even trying to hide the pleasure he received from causing this discomfort.
It was obvious Karol was on the verge of exploding in anger, as in spite
of her still perfectly pale face, her fist was clenched and the air around her skin
got warmer. She left without saying a word to clean up the mess and in her
absence, both the man and his partner burst into laughter, mocking her reaction
while the girl complimented his attitude.
Aidan looked around and saw that nobody was bothered by the scene,
each of them minding their own business and smoking Khala.
“Yeah… these are the disgusting brats I know and love…” he told
himself. “Thai course of actions resemblet dat o’ a hero, brave fella!” Aidan
said loud enough for the man to hear and made understand the criticism.
The man mumbled something back, but he didn’t listen to any of that.
Instead he looked at the other people’s reactions, shocked faces lighting all over
the room like firecrackers before returning to normal.
The waitress returned with the tools necessary to clean while another one
came with his food. He was still in the middle of eating when Karol passed him
after finishing her duty.
“Wait!” He said with his mouth still full. After swallowing he continued,
“Could I get some tonic water too? And… when do you finish your shift?”
“Yeah, I can get you the water, but why do you want to know that?!
What’s your matter, didn’t have enough fun watching me drop that shi- thing?!”
she replied arrogantly, obviously fed up with mockery.
“It’s me, the guy Judy told you. Excuse my attire and haircut, long story.”
He replied patiently, seeing past her frustration and realising she didn’t
recognize him.
“Oh! Sorry, in that case…” She paused to think, “I finish in about 4
hours. I’m not waiting; if you’re not here then, I’m going home. I’ll get your
water.” She finished, leaving him at the table to finish his meal.
 After having done so, Aidan carried on with his business for the day,
taking a bus towards the library. It was an unremarkable building just like every
other one, but instead of just having a restaurant or another enterprise at ground
level in an otherwise residential flat, it was more like his office building, each
floor being a different sector of the institution and the library occupied the
whole block. The inside was equipped with tables, shelves of books, ACUs, and
a support department, where Aidan inquired about the Residency Registry for
the current year. He was given the code necessary to access a digital copy of the
book on an ACU and after typing it in, he had obtained access.
“Alright, let’s see… where did she say she was from? Suburb… 5? Was it
5? Let’s see…” he scrolled through the pages of the document.
It consisted of a list of numbers corresponding to the address of all the
Households with their respective names. He quickly scrolled right past Suburb 1
of the capital, where except for the public and governmental institutions, all the
names where censored out of security reasons. It was not a rule, but usually the
people in the government and their employees didn’t want to be bothered with
spam, so their addresses were hidden. As a civilian, Aidan also had this right,
but he didn’t bother to hide his address as nobody bothered or threatened him to
day. He quickly also scrolled past his own name, in the section Centre 2, the
sole resident with the rank of Househead in a sea of businesses and offices
together with regular apartments. All the other Househeads where located in
Suburb 2. The cycle repeated for Centre and Suburb 3 and then 4, and when he
paid attention to the 5th section, he found nothing.
“Huh? What?! Well, maybe I don’t remember right… Damn, I have to
check all 100 districts? Shit!” he told himself.
To his fortune, he did not have to go through all the concentrically shaped
districts having a business centre and a residential suburb that together made up
the capital. He found her family in the next district in Suburb 6.
“So, let’s see who’s here. Househead Heriotza Freedomfigher,
residency… somewhere else? Agure Freedomf… aaa! He’s the actual
administrator of the property. Let’s see, Nekatuta, Aintza, Itzal, Zuzen, Igon,
Irakasle… Aaa! Here she is! Only 36 guys listed here? It must mean they are
pretty secretive too. Now, let’s find more information… She made her PTV
contact number public, alright. Not much else, a few pictures and the most basic
bio description. Well, that’s all I need. I’ll try to get to property number 33,
Suburb 6, District 6 tomorrow.”
 Aidan saved her number in his PTV and disconnected the ACU from the
Residency Register, leaving the library. Now he had enough time to go home,
change his clothes, take a shower, talk to her and meet the waitress.
Lying in his bed, still wet from the hot shower he took, he sat in silence a
second, all alone by himself with nothing to do. A seed of a demon entered his
mind as he felt a need, a light desire for relaxation, a mild craving for calmness.
He was no fool, it was better to prevent than to treat, so he had to scorch the
lands of his body to prevent the weeds from growing.
He swallowed the pill with a glass of water. All he had to do now was not
give in, to not purchase a cigar from a shop. In about an hour all his desires for
Khalaroxin.
“Yeah, that’s the thing I would be missing right now, waste more money
on meaningless nothings. I don’t need that. Not at all. I don’t need that. Not a
bit… Eh, I better call her. Maybe I was a bit too harsh after I woke up in the
morning. Whatever, let’s see where it goes.”
“Who is’t there and which is thy matter o’ calling?” Ira answered on her
PTV.
“Salutes t’ti, ‘tis me, Aidan Farefax, if tou canst rememberet me?”
“Oh, quite a surpise I has’t in mine own hands! I expectedeth not fo’ thee
t’recall events from that time, fo’ if I wilt confesseth that thou w’re in the least
favourable o’ the states o’ mind!” she replied.
“I would much prefer that we speak normally.” Aidan proposed
“Wherefore? Is there an inconvenience?”
“Not really, but I would prefer to know what I’m getting into and faking
your language isn’t the best way of starting that.”
“Alright then. Why are you calling?”
“Well, it’s not my intention to talk over long distances, so I was
wondering if you’d still want to taste some of my food. I could come over
tomorrow over there, I’m still around at some acquaintances in your area.”
“Of course, of course, you’re welcome to be here tomorrow… Around
when? Morning? Noon? Lunchtime? Dinnertime?” Ira asked with a subtle mix
of curiosity and eagerness.
 “I would be glad to prepare you some dinner, in the afternoon I’ll be busy
with a business meeting.” He said seriously, to drive the point of the importance
of the fictional meeting that served as an excuse for his working schedule.
“Very good… Whatever you say, I’ll be glad to hear more about what
you’re doing. See you then!” she said and hang up after Aidan said his goodbye.
“Weird… There must be something wrong here.” Aidan realised. “She is
clearly interested, so I can rule out a one of a kind thing. Still, I read in her bio
that she’s 29. That’s old, very old I might say, especially for somebody of her
descend. And she even had the decency of switching to normal speech when I
asked her to. Maybe she just caught on my horrible Lavonian Tongue and
wanted to be polite… Either way, something is off. And she didn’t tell me about
paying for it, so my drunkenness must have worked wonders. I will still ask her
if she gave me the smoke tho, I really need to know that.”
Having finished this point on his agenda, he moved to the next one by
putting on the greyish tunic and set off into the sunset towards Exelor’s. The
restaurant was just closing its doors when he arrived. All the staff was there,
Judy, cooks, barmen and some waitresses, among whom Karol.
“Hi everyone!” he greeted them. After high fiving with most of them and
the casual ‘How’s it going?’ followed by ‘Alright’ by everyone, the rest
departed on their ways, while he remained behind with Karol.
They agreed to walk to bus station and wait there for her bus. They talked
along the way,
“So, tell me how’s it like working, for real.” Aidan said at some point.
“Heh… Not bad, not tiresome and usually interesting enough for me not
to want to jump off a cliff at the mere thought of it, but I’ve had some bad
experiences yesterday and today, as you saw. How about you?”
“Oh, I’ve been doing it for years, I’m a master. I have to admit it gets
boring. I heard it helps changing it after a few years to prevent going numb.” He
replied, and then changed the subject suddenly. “Anyhow, when did you die?
How many days ago?”
“How dare you ask something as personal as that?! Have you got no
manners? Sick pervert!” she yelled at him, stopping in place and making a few
steps away from Aidan.
“Let’s keep going, you’re gonna miss your bus.” Aidan proposed, seeing
the violent reaction, stopping in place too.
 Karol looked at him confused, trying to read his intentions off his face.
She was no malintent, so she accepted to go further, unnerved by his questions
coupled with a blank reaction and monotone voice.
“Let’s see if I can get it right. You’re overreacting, you’re clearly not
over your death. It must mean that you didn’t have time to embrace it, so you
didn’t die old. You both dropped that plate when you got scared and described
walking around with food not tiresome. These are characteristic to somebody
who still recalls what it feels like to be tired and not accustomed to manoeuvre
like a Tunic. I’d give you a month, tops. But considering you began working
here this week, I’d give you even less.” He explained, not even looking at her in
the eyes, as if thinking out loud.
She was mystified by his attitude and accuracy, responding this time
without making a scene,
“Yes, you’re right… Is it that obvious?”
“Not everyone pics up on these details, so I’m not sure it’s that obvious. I
know that the guy who did that was probably just a douche who didn’t
recognize your face and saw your brown tunic.”
“Yeah, now I have to wear these awful rags! I hate them, just let everyone
wear whatever they want!” she complained infuriated.
“They were useful around the house to distinguish between ranks and
how you should address your ancestors, right? You felt safer when the driver
was wearing blue and red, weren’t you?”
“Indeed, it felt better. Felt. Not anymore. Now it’s not fair! All my
friends and sisters, bothers, cousins, doomsland, my parents and grandparents
are sitting around the and having fun while I’m off to the big city to make
money so they can afford to live carelessly! Two weeks ago, I was just like
them! it’s not fair!” she replied bitterly but with a hurt voice.
Aidan turned his head and made eye contact.
“Hey, look on bright side! Do you feel pain? Do you feel thirst, hunger?
And it’s not like you’ll work nonstop for eternity. You’ll be back home half a
month with your beloved.” He said gently, trying to calm her down.
“It’s easy for you to say that, isn’t it? You… They told me about you!
You worked with them before getting a better paid job at some office and now
you always go there to eat, poor ole man working for no-one but himself,
having no responsibilities to no-one but himself, master of his own life! You!
You’re telling me to be happy?! What do you know?! You don’t have to do
what your Househead tells you to, you can feel the wind in your hair, you don’t
feel alone in cold and silence! It’s so… it’s like nothing! No self, no feeling,
only…only dread that this was not supposed to be you! SHUT UP!” she yelled
at him, angrier than before, stopping in place once again.
Aidan stopped too, not intimidated by her temper, even as she started
throwing her fists around.
“It’s alright to be mad. Let’s go, or you’ll miss your bus.” He uttered as
he received a punch in the face from her.
Aidan made a step back and held his palm over his face. “Greedy
Househeads, eh? By this punch I assume you they didn’t give you the proper
time to processed your death. Y’know, that’s illegal, you are entitled to up to 3
months of meditation by law. I know a good lawyer that can pick up the case if
you want.” He said between his bloody lips.
Karol was instantly taken over by sorrow and her anger dissolved into
thin air. She jumped onto him to check the damage, like a child trying
desperately to put together a broken vase.
“I… I didn’t mean to do this… I should not have done that! I am sorry, I
was angry and I don’t know what got over me…” she said embracing Aidan.
“I’m fine, I knew what I was getting into. Let’s go to the bus.” He
brushed it off.
The two kept on going, but Karol could not keep silent,
“What do you mean by knowing what you were getting into? Did you
know I was going to do that?”
“No, but I expected based on previous experiences. Don’t be sorry, I
think you must be really confused right know. I’m sorry for this emotional
roller-coaster, I see you still have very human reflexes.” He replied.
“It’s… alright, I think?... What do you mean by human reflexes?” she
inquired timidly.
“I know from my acquaintances that jumping with compassion when
seeing pain is something you’ll grow out of, especially if it’s physical. Your
ability to feel emotions won’t be affected, you’ll just leave behind some of
them. I don’t want to bring only bad news; I know it sucks to be like this. I
know the loneliness and the frustration of injustice, and I don’t know many
people that have this problem.”
 “I don’t want to be a jerk, I feel bad for punching you, it makes me feel
bad. My head hurts, I want to cry…” she said with remorse.
“Take your mind off it. Relax, meditate, look on the bright side. You’ll be
the source of joy for everyone you care about. Learn to replace the physical
pleasure with their happiness. Explore your new abilities, run for kilometres on
end without getting tired, have fun going through walls and fences. It does not
have to be all gloomy. You can still have fun; entertainment is still within your
reach. If anything, you’ll be able to binge watch TV series without ever going to
the toilet.” He advised her, seeing in her eyes she forgave herself for leashing
out. It warmed him to see her internal tension loosen. It surely helped her to get
her feelings out.
“It’s so much easier for old people.” He told himself. “Having enjoyed
life fully and having kids they care about that they can help much more if they
are dead than alive, years of preparation for the moment... it just makes the
transition easier. Poor thing, it will be rough.”
“Ha-ha!” she laughed faintly. “I’ll try… I will. Now, who’s this lawyer
you were mumbling about?” she asked with a peaceful voice.
He gave her the details and limited legal advice, in spite of his numb
mouth. After she left with the bus, he found himself alone again at the bus
station.
“Man, that fist was delicious… Great Aidan, what have you become? A
punch sack for insecure ghosts, that’s what. At least I could make her feel better
in this cruel world. It doesn’t forgive nonconformists, eh?... Oh, yeah, speaking
of those, I should call a cab and go to Centre 1 and kill some time there.” he told
himself as he pulled out his PTV to get his ride.

Chapter 4: Quallaqmik!

To the fortune of Aidan’s bank account and the misfortune of his feet, the
taxi could not reach the centre and had to stop at the border of Suburb 1 and
Centre 1 because of traffic conditions.
All the main roadway arteries of the Centre were occupied by people in
either dark grey or full out black clothing, spaced out just enough to not allow
access the access. They were camped in tents in the middle of the road and on
the sideways in front doors of restaurants and institutions. This parade went on
for kilometres, small conglomerations of protesters forming at the city’s
intersections. All the tents where of the same dark palette, most of them having
had another original colour before being painted to create the intended
atmosphere.
The protesters were silent in this part of the city, not marching with
placards, picket signs or chanting slogans. Aidan walked around them, camped
on the road as they were, talking between themselves in a language he could
barely decipher the basic words of.
“Aisch vin hoongerst, uara vist dai foodh?” one of them asked.
“Etze b’komain! Dere zi!” other replied, pointing at a man bringing a bag
full of food and water to the tent.
Aidan was fascinated to hear something so different from his dialect of
Lavonian, or the standard variation.
“Southerners… All of them, speaking Hakdan, right in the capital! I
wonder why nobody called me out yet; my colours just happen to match
everyone else’s; they have no way of knowing I’m Lavonian, I think.” He told
himself as he made his way towards the Square.
No smiley faces greeted him and, in fact, nobody paid any attention to
him. He felt invisible and insignificant in the sea of people, a lone boat in the
middle of the ocean. It felt wrong to be there, guilty and anxious that the cover
would be blown. He was an impostor, a solder behind enemy lines in his own
home. The only thing that persistently distracted him from the urge of returning
to a more familiar surrounding out of the uncanny valley, was the stench of
sweat, piss and shit that impregnated the streets.
“The news weren’t lying, no-one can stay here anymore. Doomsland,
these people stink like pigs! And half of them aren’t even alive, I can’t image
what it could have been over here? How can they remain in this filth?” the
thought to himself as there was no-one to talk to.
After walking for another 10 minutes, passing several intersections, he
noticed how things where changing. There were a lot of banners and
megaphones next to the tents, with slogans, messages and complaints like ‘Save
Haktun!’, ‘Clean Ash River!’, ‘Extend the Wind Barrier!’, ‘Give back our land,
give back our lives!’, ‘Hakdan massacre all over again’, ‘What if it were
Lanvos?’ and a few more melodic one like ‘We bring doom like you did to
Haktun!’ or ‘You made Haktun trash, now we turn you to ash!’ besides some
others bashing politicians and the government in general. He was taken aback
when someone tried to open a door but immediately someone camped outside
shut it in the face of whoever was trying to get out. He even got to see a
helicopter land on the rooftop of a flat. It masked the increasingly louder chants
and shouts coming from the Square.
Soon, he found himself there. The smell was not of importance anymore
in the face of the crowd occupying it. These seemed entirely different people.
They still wore the same black clothes and had similar tents, but they were
actively marching and making their voice heard, so many different people of
different social status and individual lives uniting to create a homogenous body,
rallying against a common enemy to solve a problem that affected them.
They were circling the Square, a vast open area unseen in other Centres,
around the cold glass and steel colossus of a building in the shape of a stepped
pyramid in the hearth of everything. It was the embodiment of the Lavonian
Association, the corpus where all branches of the government were located: The
Parliament, Council of Elected Ministers and the Supreme Court of Equality
and Justice.
There where impressively massive screens on each of the four sides of the
Square, attached to the buildings surrounding them, all of the showing the same
live recording with subtitles of a meeting taking place inside the Pyramid. The
discussions were being held by a variety of people in an amphitheatre, divided
equally into four categories of around 20 representatives each. There were two
main categories, the Hakdan electives and the Lavonian ones, further divided
into equal subdivisions of Tunics and living folk, thus the four categories. While
the living where wearing all kinds of colourful and weirdly shaped costumes,
the Tunics wore all identical dark purple clothes, with no distinction in matter of
clothing between the two ethnicities.
The recording had audio too, but the noise outside didn’t let it be heard.
Instead there was an amalgamation of demands, mainly demanding reforms
from the state officials regarding the position of the Wind Barrier.
If before, Aidan was injected with precaution by the mob, now he was
terrified by them, horrified by demonstration, stupefied, frightened at the sight
of the thousands acting like one, each adding little with little, brick by boring
brick and drop by drop to the unforgiving tsunami of anger and frustration, to
the monument of destruction and dissatisfaction, waiting like an unsupervised
nuclear reactor to explode and kill. In spite of all his instincts telling him to run
away, he decided against it.
 “What would they do to me if I did run? They’ll think that I did
something wrong and who knows what they’ll do after that? And… I… Like
this terror, it’s a sick pleasure, a guilty rush of adrenaline, so terrifying yet…
beautiful, that it is… unintelligible… it’s… just sublime!” he thought to reach
that conclusion, while on the outside he was just staring at the mob with wide
eyes, only a breathless ‘wow!’ finding a way out of his open, dry mouth.
He lost all notion of time and space for a few minutes, daydreaming and
becoming one with the air, with the unity and with the spirit of the revolt.
“The Smoke Riots must have been even more impressive, I gotta ask Sam
about them; I be doomed if the news didn’t describe this perfectly!” he told
himself in a moment of self-awareness.
Soon, a feeling of longing shrouded his chest, intensifying at the same
with the rhythm of his heart, beating with it in synchronisation. He made one
step ahead. Then two. Before he even knew it, he was screaming. And then
running. He had joined the crowd, following it in circles, the once dangerous
strangers feeling like brothers he knew for a lifetime, yelling to the sky
unintelligible imitations of Hakdan language and random interjections,
screaming his soul out for the common cause. Strangely, even if he didn’t think
about it, being caught in the middle of the hurricane of people and a storm of
fury, he felt save. Safer than he had been in a while, safer than at a Gathering,
safer than at his job and safer than inside his own apartment. Nobody could hurt
him if he was together with his people, if he expressed himself and gave up
everything to become part of the unstoppable machine. He might not care much
about the Wind Barrier, but he could rally behind their sense of injustice and
redirect his demons outside at the enemy on the screen. And he wasn’t the only
one feeling and acting like this.
The screen changed. Silence cut like a sword through the air. The crowd
froze, Aidan with them. Hopeful eyes looked at the screen as Aidan was
retelling himself in his own dialect the speech given on the screen. Somebody
tamed the beast. It was the Ambassador of Public Relations, speaking of behalf
of the Lavonian Association Government.
“Respectable fellow citizens! You have been demonstrating on the streets
of the Lanvos City Conglomeration, District 1, Centre 1 for almost two weeks
as of today. In this televised public conference, we, the L.A.G. will address your
complaints and clarify the future measures that will be taken regarding them!”
the Tunic said and paused a second before continuing.
 “You have bravely and thoroughly expressed your concerns and
demands, expressing your right of freedom of speech, in spite of the natural
conditions, exposing yourselves to the elements, to fight for what you believe. It
really warms our hearts to have such well-rounded citizens that take their civic
duty so seriously and maturely.”
The man finished complimenting the people, moving forward with the
introduction of the actually impactful part,
“These complaints have been quantified and forwarded to us by the
leaders of your own NGOs and a council of local attorneys from your provincial
capital of Cassan. They are as follows: first, the general sector of the
demonstrators, on grounds of historical factors resulting from the Great War of
Unification, demands that the land called Haktun, consisting of the lands south
of the Ash River to the limits of the Soft Mountains, once occupied by your
ethnic group, the Hakdan, be sanitized, together with the Ash River and its
renaming to Nephtar. The sanitation is to be done by means of, for example,
moving the Wind Barrier as south as possible of the Ash River, or reducing the
pollution caused and emitted by the industrial complexes, factories and power
plants. Second, there is a segment of people among you working in the field of
engineering that demand the urgent modernisation of technological machines,
be they industrial or informational, in order to improve the efficiency of general
production and communication, as well as the general quality of life.”
The crowd was still silent, the wind being more of a disturbance than the
breathing noises they made, listening on the edge of their seats.
“All other accusations and/or demands were not addressed through an
official body and as such will be dismissed until their proper legal
representation is possible. In continuation we will address the decision of the
Parliament regarding the second set of allegations. On the basis of economic
principles, we reject the demands. We have taken into consideration the fact that
first of in the first place, all technologies able to pass the official examinations
have been successfully implemented into the public system and any such
alleged technologies that could offer an advantage in production have failed to
pass our expert’s technical exams and/or professional economists have advised
against the their release to the public on base of destabilization of the current
system. For example, automating the factories will leave many of our citizens
without jobs, but that would still consume entertainment, fuel, and services.
Such a sudden increase in demand will allow for higher prices and would drain
the Public Fund of Social Assistance, requiring reallocation of resources by
closing governmental businesses like the restaurants, cinemas and fairs you
attend with eagerness in your well-deserved spare time, thus only ruin the stable
and profitable economy of the L.A.G. in favour of cheaper imported goods from
the Confederation of Free Cities, The Colony of Soulin, The Kingdom of the
Dead Islands or the Empire of Rhovna. Moreover, the increased urban
population would lead to even higher numbers of Tunics being relocated to the
Icetowers to spend their well-deserved retirement there, as to prevent
overpopulation. The possibilities for such changes to be detrimental are high
and the likelihood of an advantage too slim. Still, we shall revise the exam
procedures and the Parliament will work together with experts and some of the
engineers who told their mind to ensure that the tests are conducted fairly and as
objectively as possible.”
“Won’t he shut up already!?” Aidan told himself, annoyed by how the
man was delaying his response to the main question by not addressing the
elephant in the room.
“Now that the lighter issue has been addressed, we shall continue by
communicating the decision of the Parliament regarding the question of the
historical province of Haktun. It is true that many atrocities have been
committed in the past against our fellow citizens of Hakdan descend,
culminating in the Great War of Unification.”
“Here he goes again with the nonsense!” Aidan revolted without
expressing his feelings.
“Those acts of evil where done against a regime, in a time barely in the
memory of the oldest of us, more than 2000 years ago, and never with the
express intention of harming the Hakdan for their ethnicity. We must
understand that we all left those times behind us and that the wounds have
healed. Still, the Lavonian peoples have expressed their regret by investing in
the Haktun and ensured equal representation in governmental administration in
spite of the danger of their overrepresentation. In your honour, Ash River shall
have the official name in the indigenous Hakdan language, ‘Nephtar.’ We
understand that the investments have led to the environmental destruction that
led to the construction of the series of wind redirecting turbines that keep the
polluted air and dangerous industrial smoke from reaching anything north of the
Ash River or the Eastern Sea. Unfortunately, we cannot afford to lose the
productive value of the Hakdan area, on which our economy relies so heavily.
As moving the Wind Barrier would be too much of a logistical nightmare and
economic waste, we have decided that the same engineers and their teams that
are by your side in good spirit at the demonstrations will be hired to work on
mechanism to reduce the pollution. You have the security of your elected
parliamentarians to be working towards your goals and your interests. Thank
you for your attention and kind understanding. Have a good night and see you
tomorrow!” the man ended his speech with a corporate smile.
The screen turned black and disappointment rose in the air.
Disappointment turned to anxiety.
Anxiety turned to fear.
Fear turned into anger.
And anger turned to fury.
But fury had already burned out.
The efforts of some protesters, as there were groups of people with
megaphones advocating more extreme measures, were unable to stir the spirits.
“Criminals! They took away our homes, they took away our elders and
now they dare to lie to our faces! Brother, we shall rise! We are not only
brothers in blood, we are brothers in thought too! Let us be brothers in arm as
well! Rise up! In the name of the Smoke Riots, let’s win our freedom back and
leave this lie of liberty behind! Margal cries for her sons to return home!”
someone shouted on the megaphone in Lavonian Tongue more broken than
Aidan’s.
He was swiftly taken by the police and army forces keeping the Pyramid
from being raided and arrested. He tried in vain to oppose the arrest.
There were no gunshots, no explosion and no arson attacks. In spite of the
fire in the crowd, of the boiling blood in their veins, it was not enough to throw
them over the edge of civility and into a riot or anarchy. Something was off,
Aidan thought. “These were the legendary people of the Smoke Riots; how can
they be so tame? Their aggression… is just words and it fades after rejection.”
“The revolutionary spirit… I can feel it… die…” Aidan realized in the
middle of the crowd. He decided to go back, as the mass of protesters also
dissipated into the streets back to their tents. “They are not defeated, they will
protest another day tomorrow, maybe a few days after too. But for how long?”
He kept his head down in the ground and tried not to vomit at smell of
the streets. It was late and he was far from home.
“Least I got my ration of fun for the day…” he told himself, coming more
crushed emotionally. “Why am I like this? I don’t even care about Haktun!
What does it have to do with me? I don’t get it, maybe… maybe it’s just mob
mentality taking over me… Urgh! I just wanna sleep.”
Deep inside, the problem was deeper, he knew that, he was just too tired
to admit to himself. It was not a defeat for him, but it was a victory for his
enemy, the status quo. Same thing.
Bad news continued. No cab was willing to pick him up from District 1
with the current state of affairs at this hour in the night.
“Motherfuckers! Pieces of shit, why don’t you love money enough to get
me home! I’d pay double, for birdsnake’s sake!” he thought, still too afraid that
he might just be heard by a Hakdan still angry enough to punch his face for
being Lavonian. He decided to walk to District 2 and hopefully get a ride from
there.
Walking alone on the side of the road in the kilometre of “wilderness”,
also known as empty house lots, between Suburb 1 and Suburb 2 when in a
ditch he saw a man dressed weirdly. He seemed to be in pain as he was curled
up in a foetal position.
“Are you alright?” Aidan asked.
“Killeth me alreaday!” the man yelled.
It was something unusual to hear from a man dressed in rags, a well-worn
sweater with sleeves cut of and ripped long trousers.
“I’m not gonna, boy. Do you need help?”
“Art thou a southerner? A true one? Why not doth I recognizeth thee?
The others did maketh it?” the man asked as if he didn’t hear or care about the
question.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you need water? I think you
must be going mad... What are you talking about?”
“Thy accent… ‘Tis weird. Who art thou? Where doth thee cometh from?”
“Just a local speaking the local dialect, not that Lavonian bullshit. Need a
lift?” Aidan asked, starting to become curious.
“Dzeah, yeah… Helpeth me geteth out. I caneth walketh, I just felleth on
my way and not caneth gerrap.” the man replied.
Aidan took him out of the ditch and indeed, the man could walk, he was
just walking with a limp leg that was bandaged with the sleeves of his sweater.
Oddly, he was not drunk as Aidan had expected, he just smelled like he didn’t
shower in weeks, not like alcohol. The man was also unusually hairy, with a
relatively recently cut beard and moustache taking up most of his face, as well
as hairy arms.
“You need to go the hospital, you’re in a miserable shape!” Aidan told
him as he was offering himself as support to help him walk.
“I’m throwin’ mineself back in dze ditch and breakin’ mine own neck
‘fore I do that! I not doth have money, taketh me to the government building,
mine friends art there…” he said, holding Aidan’s shoulder with one hand and
his own aching head in the other.
Aidan was totally wasted and shattered by thirst and exhaustion after
effectively having to carry the man on his back when he reached Suburb 2. To
no-one’s surprise, he managed to call a cab that would actually take him.
“Art we there? Is this dze government?” the man asked disoriented.
“Yeah, we’ll get there. Where do you live, may I ask?” Aidan asked
while waiting for the cab.
“Nay, thou mayeth not, for I am doth not have one a tho’sand kilometres
from here. Geteth me to mine friends, they shall taketh care, they art at dze
government… Head hurteth… Quallaqmik! Shaloq man’na!” the man screeched
in pain. (*Help! Head hurts!)
Aidan had no idea what he was saying, it made no sense and worried him
to the point where he doubted the idea of bringing him to his place and then
letting him go.
“Ikuat… Ikuat quallaqmik ue! Hen ue lauq? Quallaqmik!” the man
screeched again. (* Ikuat…Ikuat help me! What I do? Help!)
“Ok, this sounds like a language, maybe he’s not mad. But I never heard
something like this…” Aidan took into consideration before asking, “What the
Doomsland are you saying?! Where do you come from?”
“Ue… I… mine head hurteth, I wanteth to sleepeth… Where are they?
Quallaqmik! Ikuat quallaqmik ue!” the man screamed again. (*I… Help! Ikuat
help me!)
Aidan saw the cab approaching.
“Look, get in the car and don’t yell, you’ll attract attention!” Aidan
harshly instructed him.
 “Oq.” The man replied. (*Ok)
The two got inside in the backseat, the driver unnerved by the sight of the
weird man, but Aidan calmed him by saying that he and his friend just had a
little too much booze.
On the backseat, the man fell asleep and when it came to getting out, he
had to be woken up, uttering more unintelligible nonsense Aidan had to explain
as drunken moans to calm the driver, again.
It was a pain to get him up the stairs. Aidan kept on repeating how the
man’s friends were waiting for him upstairs, and it gave him the power to made
it to the door. Once inside, Aidan gave the man some water and drank a few
glasses for himself and then gave himself a decorative pillow to rest his head on
and a spare blanket to keep between him and the floor, while the man took the
bed. In spite of the uncomfortable conditions, Aidan slept better and deeper than
he did in a while.

Chapter 5: Betty has news

In the morning, Aidan was awakened by the alarm of his PTV. He

dreaded in the moment as he would rather prefer to stay on the blanket, but
sleep was not better than starvation.
As he got up off the floor lazily, he was reminded by the total stranger he
brought home yesterday by the sight of him still sleeping on his bed. Now able
to see things clearly and pay attention, he noticed that the bandaged limp leg
had blood stains all over it.
“What the fuck have I done?” he asked himself. “I should kick him out
before some gang comes knocking on my door to retrieve him!” Aidan tried to
pull the man up, but in doing so, he woke up too and panicked for a second,
breaking out of Aidan’s grip.
“Han ue ipik?” the man asked, after which he realised that he was not
understood. Now thinking clearly, he returned to speaking in Lavonian, “Where
am I?”
“I took you to my apartment, you were dying in a ditch and refused to go
to the hospital. Though if I think about it know, I should’ve taken you there
anyway. Who are you? Why were you shot in the leg?” he interrogated the man.
“Art we in District 1? Taketh me there! I must returneth!”
 “Stop with the questions and answer me! Why where you shot, who are
your gang?” Aidan persisted.
“Why, ghost? What doth thee careth?” the man replied spitefully, trying
to get up all by himself.
“I am not a ghost, and why do you use that word, piece of shit? I am very
much alive, see?” he replied, touching the man’s forehead. “Now, tell me more
about you. Where do you come from? I can’t believe I’m doing this instead of
having a coffee and breakfast…”
“I am Unnquk, from dze True South, south of dze Soft Mountains, and I
cameth with a group of mine friends to showeth dze world the truth!” he replied
passionately. “We were shoteth when we lefteth dze ship, they saw us and
shoteth! We had to separateth and went by wilderness, not to be seen. Later they
found us, in Distriqt I not doth knoweth which, and I escaped alive, but
woundeth! Dze others madeth it, we geteth word by radio.” The man explained,
giving Aidan a hard time deciphering the proper tense of his sentences.
“No, you’re crazy, that’s what! You must be hallucinating, poor you must
be a schizo or some shit and your family is worrying for you… You’re going
nowhere, I’m calling the police.” Aidan dismissed his story in disbelief.
“Nay, waiteth! I have proof!” Unnquk said desperately, searching his
pockets until he found an PTV in one. It was an ancient model, with a
rudimentary camera, the kind seen in museums nowadays. He pressed its
buttons and presented Aidan with a video.
He saw through the low quality of the video a presentation. Whoever
recorded it showed an old-fashioned poor village by the sea, with small brick
and wood houses, the roofs covered by snow and frozen, awful unpaved roads.
There where men and woman dressed in similar clothes to his own, with the
difference of being in a slightly better shape.
“What is this? When was this made? The buildings look like this was
3000 years ago!”
“Last year, ‘tis mine village!” he responded.
The man was speaking nonsense to Aidan, who figured he might be an
immigrant of some sort,
“Poor you, it must be harsh to live in the Empire, I never thought it was
that bad over there! Still, why didn’t you just go a Free City if you wanted to
escape poverty? Was it easier to cross an ocean and get shot at the border?”
Aidan asked him, disturbed to the point of trying to hide it with rhetorical
questions.
“Nay, nay, nay, thou kalliku-hun! I telleth thou, I cometh from dze True
South! South of Haktun, south of Soft Mountains, by the coast! Here, in Lavon
plains!” the man tried to explain, growing desperate as Aidan just didn’t get his
message. (*bad man, aka stupid)
Aidan was confused and baffled. He sat on the edge of the bed, thinking
out loud as he tried to make sense
“Lavonian plains? Nobody calls this country like that anymore…
Historians use that word for the country before the Great War. What do you
mean ‘true south’? Nobody lives south of Ash River!”
“Doth thee mean Nephtar, the old border?” the man asked.
“Yes, but… Hey! How did you know of the change of names? You where
delusional and stuck in a ditch while the speech was on!”
“Thou not caneth understandeth! Looketh now at this!” Unnquk insisted,
skipping scenes of interviews in his weird language and showing another video
taken from a ship at sea. Then he skipped forward and showed him a showcase
of a screen split in two between a white and a blue half as a black line came
approached from the distance. Aidan was intrigued by the sight.
“Icetowers! Icetowers!” the man repeated, pointing at the screen.
“No, that’s not how the Icetowers are, I… don’t know what this is…” he
said and took the PTV from the Unnquk’s hands to get a better view of the
landscape from closer. The line materialised and a more detailed portrayal came
through the screen. He could distinguish shapes. And sounds that sounded
familiar. His heart stopped in place. They were people, coming closer to the
camera. The white was snow and ice. The sounds where Lavonian. And they
were dressed in clothes actively showing off their skin. They were screaming at
the camera, some of them blocking others from attacking the cameraman. He
could barely understand any of the things they were saying as they screamed
and yelled, one over the other.
“What?! What is this?! ‘Icetowers are a lie!’, ‘This is Doomsland!’ ‘Help
us!’, what is this, what do they mean? Is this some kind of old movie? Are you
insane?” Aidan asked him as he returned the PTV.
“These are the Icetowers, they art a lie! I am from the True South, we
ferryeth them to there! We have to! Doomsland! We came to showeth dze
world, the others have video too! Get me to my friends! District 1!” the man
demanded, losing all patience.
Aidan on the other hand was perplexed, not knowing what to think,
unsure of what was happening. He had another question for the man.
“Are you Miqhun?” he asked, scared of the possible response.
“Dzeah! Dzeah! Ue Miqhun, shulaku, kalliku-hun! Qualliqmik nue! Yes,
yes, help us!” the man yelled desperately at Aidan, annoyed by his hesitation to
take action or react decisively. (*Yes, yes! I Miqhun, obvious-like, stupid-like
man! Help us!)
“Alright, I will not call any authorities.” Aidan accepted, worried by the
voice of this man. He decided he had to learn more, to meet these supposed
‘friends’ in order to make sure that this was not just a convincing psycho. “I’ll
give you 2H, it should be enough to get you whatever you want or wherever you
want to go. I’ll call a cab for you, I’m not sure that your PTV is registered,
based on its age.”
Unnquk released a deep sigh and began to chuckle in a discreet laugher
on the floor, relieved by Aidan’s attitude. After a few seconds of that, he pulled
out a radio station from his pocket and pressed a few buttons, apparently trying
to make contact with someone. Initially nobody replied to his calls, but at some
point, another voice speaking his tongue replied. He then had a short
conversation with them in his language, while Aidan was looking around the
apartment for the 2H note he knew left somewhere.
“Hey, it’s me Unnquk, where are you? Can you give me a precise
location?”
“District 1 intersection of 3rd and 10th streets. We’ll be there dressed
normally, in the crowd; you’ll recognize us. What happened to you?”
“We were ambushed somewhere around District 10 on our way, I got
away but my leg is injured. I still have the recording. Some idiot pulled me out
of a ditch and took me to his apartment, took good care of me. He’s a sweet
idiot, bless his heart! He is still processing what I’ve shown him, Mangluk was
right. They have no idea. He wants to meet us one day. Does anybody believe
you there?” he replied.
“Are you sure only you escaped? If this guy’s Lavonian we should not
trust him! Yes, Mangluk was right. It’s hard to convince anyone, they say we’re
performers, actors and none of their leaders take us seriously… We can talk this
over when you get here.” the other voice responded between the radio static.
 “I think so, they took the bodies. Why didn’t you reply last night when I
called you? I didn’t know where I was, but you could have searched!” Unnquk
complained.
“We were all busy trying to be heard, things were crazy in the Centre,
there is a rebellion here! We also split, and are looking for the rest. You’ll be
caught up to speed when you get here, sorry for not helping. Transmission
over.” and as such static became the only sound coming from the radio.
He crawled to the edge of the bed and used it to help himself get up. After
stabilizing his position, he made his way to the door holding onto the bed and
the walls. Aidan found the note and gave it to him, helping him get down the
stairs and waiting together with him for the taxi.
“Intersection of 3rd and 10th streets, Distriqt 1.” He simply said, following
with a humble “Thank you!”
Aidan smiled, assuming that the location said was where he would find
him later. In spite of his smile, Aidan was fearful. He didn’t know what all of
this meant on the grander scheme. He knew the Miqhun were a dead people,
most having died in the War and the rest assimilated in Cassan, as their culture
could not survive without the fishing in the Fierce Sea and the institutions they
had lost. Or the video he saw, it made no sense. It showed something he never
saw before. The man claimed it was the Icetowers, but it was nothing like the
warm city of villas and palaces for each person, the paradise of retirement. Sam
had a couple of his ancestors retired there; his family most likely left him in the
orphanage to go there. And above all, many of the suicides from his orphanage
ended up there. He received messages through his PTV from them in the form
of video tours and logs from them, and it was nothing like the emptiness he saw
there. He didn’t know what was wrong, but the foundations of mind had been
shaken. He needed answers. Maybe his friends were normal people, a group of
historians doing role play, and this is their schizo friend… No, that was
ridiculous. But maybe things would clear up once he met them, maybe their
Lavonian would be better or were not so insane.
“I’m just a man doing what’s right, no big deal.” Aidan replied. “Look,
the cab is there. It will take you very close to the place. Can I ask him to take a
picture of us?”
“Dzeah! Let’s asketh him!”
After saying that, Unnquk patted Aidan’s back twice so hard he had to
make a step forward in order not to fall. He was surprised by his strength, but
didn’t have any time to think about it or concentrate on his insecurities caused
by the recent events. He quickly got his picture and realised he would be late for
work if he didn’t run as fast as his un-caffeinated legs allowed him to.
He was only half an hour late when he burst into the office, checking in at
the card reader and saluting his colleagues. He got down to work, sleepy and
hungry, wishing not to be there, but going through it. He was looking forward to
his coffee break, but still focused on his duty. What has to be done has to be
done, after all.
When the much wished for time came, Aidan was at the coffee machine,
waiting for it to be done when, according to his expectations, Sam showed up.
“Hi, man, who’s it going?” Sam asked as he high fived Sam.
“Crazy, if I am to be honest, even borderline insane, I might say!” he
replied playfully. “And it’s complicated, so how about you tell me what’s been
up with you first?”
“Aaah! I have the pleasure of dealing with mister fantastic over here! In
that case, most respectable gentleman, I have to inform you that I am quite well,
but from tomorrow I shall not be here anymore!” Sam replied, the smile and
liveliness of his face draining like rainwater down the sewage. “Because I’m
taking a whole month off!” he exclaimed after letting the seriousness of his face
sink in.
Taken aback by the swift change of tone, Aidan laughed and took a sip of
his coffee. “Really?” he asked, “How come?”
“You see,” Sam explained, “Uncle may be gone, but at least I we’ll all
get together to commemorate. Everyone in the Household will be there and such
meetings don’t happen very often. Coupled with my shift and I get a whole
month of spending time with them. I’ll meet mom and dad, great-great-
grandfather, the whole bunch. I guess that’s how uncle Josh would have wanted
to be gone, surrounded by all of us…”
“Well, you’ll surely have fun honouring his memory, and surely he
wouldn’t want you to be all grimy and sad, but hopeful and joyous. After all, he
died having a blast!” Aidan looked at Sam’s face to see his reaction.
“Really man, you hit a bar that low… Like… That low…” Sam said,
bending over to indicate the level by having his hand go inside the floor.
“Too soon?” Aidan asked ashamed of himself.
Sam began to laugh uncontrollably.
 “Ha-ha-ha! Man, y’should’ve seen your face! What the Doomsland, of
course it’s never too late! Ha-ha! When I heard you go for that ‘hopeful’
bullshit I was wondering what’s wrong with you, but now I see… It’s never too
soon, y’know? Hahaha!”
Aidan began to laugh mildly too just because he saw Sam enjoying
himself. He was truly feeling better, and while it was the support of his own
friends, family and mental strengths that were helping him get through this, he
couldn’t help but feel that he also played a part in this. He could see the wounds
through his eyes slowly healing.
“Now let’s hear your story.” Sam said next.
Aidan told him about how he spent the night with the protesters in detail,
not forgetting to mention the awful smell and the scene with a protester locking
somebody in a building or the helicopter that flew on the rooftops.
“Wow, that must have been incredible! I’ll look up the speech, but I
didn’t look at the news lately, I’ve had other things on my mind and these guys
are pathetic compared to the Smoke Riots, if what you’re telling me is real.
They’re not a story worth following, I’d rather watch a movie.” Sam replied,
being sure that they posed no threat to the general safety.
“How where those Riots? I can barely find any material on them at the
library. I know you lived through that time.” Aidan inquired.
“Oh, I wasn’t alive-alive, but I had been like that for over fifty years. You
won’t find anything because it’s still a sensitive subject, it happened only 150
years ago. Time will heal the wounds.”
“Yeah, it may, but how are people like me supposed to know anything
besides the well-established part of the mindless violence and the fuckin’ bomb
that blew the whole Square up? And let’s not forget the Pyramid blew up too!”
Aidan asked resentful at the thought of missing out so much of the story.
“I’ll tell you, don’t worry! So, you know how it ended, but when you boil
it down, it’s not that impressive.” he related, “Just like now, the protesters were
occupying the streets of Centre 1. The dark colours want to indicate the smoke.
Pretentious pseudo-intellectual bullshit if you ask me, the dark wanting to
represent the smoke and the way they occupied the streets how the polluted air
was everywhere in their homeland, making it uninhabitable for living humans,
that’s why the factories stayed open and multiplied down there while the
families moved next to Ash River, the new frontier. In rest, they differed by
actually occupying the streets, as in being a literal sea of people and Tunics one
next to the other, tens of thousands of people demonstrating.”
“Man, if they chanted all at once… It just blows my mind, it’s hard to
imagine the roar it must have made… Incomprehensible! What a beast that must
have been!” Aidan expressed his fascination.
“And what cannon meat they were! Nobody knows how they began. The
Hakdan hold on to this day that the bombs were planted by the government.
Bullshit conspiracies, why would they blow up the whole city? Some dude
threw a grenade that landed in the middle of the crowd instead of the Pyramid,
that makes more sense. All the guys with explosives then started throwing them
all over the place where they thought the police were located and in the blink of
an eye, they blew themselves up in flames. To add the cherry on top of the cake,
the military opened fire on them right then. It didn’t stop some dudes from
planting bombs right then and there, under fire, at the base of the Pyramid. One
blew and made the one next to it blow until there was just a mass of bullets,
rumble, fire and dead bodies of the ground. For kilometres, panic, stampedes,
flames, they couldn’t stop it, they were so tightly packed. They burned like
matches in a box! Black smoke everywhere, I heard that it didn’t smell like shit,
but like burned flesh! God knows how many thousands of Tunics gone and
living folk dead. That was a shitshow worth talking about, showing just how
idiotic and moronic these people really were. All the funds that would have
been redirected towards saving their homes were spent on repairing the capital,
and no surviving parliamentary supported their cause.”
“Wow!” Aidan reacted. “Just wow!”
“Yeah, and look at them now, so far I see they got the name of their river
back. Really meaningful. If they don’t make sure actual change is put into
action, a name is word, meaningless. They themselves use Ash River, because
it’s objectively true!”
“Yeah, when I went to Cassan myself, I saw the grey waters with my own
eyes. All the smoke can’t pass the Soft Mountains and it creates sediments
washed down by the waters into the river.”
“I hate these guys, morons without direction not knowing what they want.
You realise that ten times their number of Hakdans love living in Cassan or
here, in Lanvos. Why should we listen to them? Because they shout?” Sam
asked himself rhetorically.
Aidan agreed with some of the points made by him, like the stupidity of
wanting change without coming with a better, sustainable alternative. Still, he
empathised with them as a man with his own doubts that felt the same way
many times, dissatisfied and wanting a change, no matter what, just to get a shot
at improving. He left those days behind him, yet unlike Sam, he had more
empathy. Those people just wanted their home back at the end of the day,
something he found himself desiring from time to time.
“And besides that, I found a man, shot in the leg, speaking something
unintelligible language besides broken Lavonian, in a ditch, claiming to be a
Miqhun from the coast of the Fierce Sea.” Aidan added, inspecting carefully
how Sam took the news.
“Oh my, the guy must’ve been higher than the moon! Hahaha! Did you
have any adventures with him?”
“No, I just took him home and paid him to fuck off in the morning by
calling a cab for him. I couldn’t let him there to get hurt or something. Do you
really think all the Miqhuns are dead?”
“I wouldn’t have done something like that, but I can understand. Do you
buy any of that man’s bullshit?”
“Not really… I mean, I don’t know… he had a video on his PTV of a few
hundred Lavonian Tunics in a frozen wasteland called he repeatedly claimed
where the Icetowers, and they were screaming for help…” Aidan reassured his
disgust and confusion, “It was disturbing!”
“That sounds awfully a lot like a movie that came 50 years ago, a horror
called ‘Frozen Doomsland’, I watched it and it was pretty realistic too. I’m sure
he was fuckin’ you over, y’know? I talked with aunt Nathalie from the
Icetowers yesterday. She won’t be coming because no ships are making the
journey right now, but she’s fine, living to the fullest in her dreamhouse.” Sam
tried to win Aidan over, with a degree of success.
“That sounds reasonable enough. He gave me an address to visit him and
his friends, I think I should pay him a visit.” Aidan added.
“No way!” Sam opposed, “You really plan to go meet a bunch of Khala
abusers in a city full of Hakdans protesting and keeping Lavonians locked in
their apartments. If one of them is determined to fuck you up, you’re screwed,
and if the guys are kidnappers, nobody’s gonna help you. Man, you risked
enough just being there last time, don’t be stupid! The junkie could’ve robbed
or killed you in your sleep!”.
 Sam was taking it very seriously. He had no way of knowing all the
details, he didn’t see the kindness in the eyes of Unnquk when they departed or
hear his language. It was not mumbo-jumbo, it felt real.
“You have a point, thanks for saving my ass! I could’ve gotten myself
killed or whatnot. If I go, I won’t be there alone!” Aidan said, not letting Sam
see that he considered him overprotective.
“I’m not coming. What do you mean?” Sam asked concerned again for
Aidan’s safety.
Aidan sipped the last of his cooled coffee, still hungry but at least more
energetic, for the moment in any case.
“I’ll hire a bodyguard, it’s not that complicated. Let’s return before Jeff
threatens with firing us again.”
The two left, each to their own cubicle, but not before exchanging a
friendly hug and Sam parenting him once again,
“Be careful, Eddy!”
After having been released from work by the grace of his schedule, Aidan
could be found at Exelor’s, as usual. He greeted Judy and ordered something
special because of his hunger, mashed potatoes with meatballs more precisely.
To his delight, there were private cabinets this time, so he didn’t have to share
the room with sadistic couples and brats. When a waitress came in, he
remembered of Karol and asked,
“Hey, Betty, there was a new Tunic ‘round here these days, where is she?
Still working?”
“Not really, she took a break for 3 months, so she might even switch jobs
in the meantime. Her reasoning was that she didn’t have time to get used to
being dead, from what I understood. It saddens me to hear that. She acted a bit
off, but I never would have guessed she had that kind of problems!”
“Well, I hope she gets better.” Aidan replied. “Thank you very much,
you’re so sweet!” he told her as she left the room.
Another smile, a melancholic one, of pride and of contempt, drew itself
on Aidan’s face.
 Chapter 6: Suburb 93

It was time to put on a new set of clothing fit for special occasions
needing interaction with living folks. Aidan was aiming for a more traditional
look, so he rented a combination of a dark blue kurta-like dress with churidar
trousers for the occasion. He called for a car to get him to Ira’s address at
number 33 in Suburb 6.
The propriety from afar was grandiose, with an off architecture that stood
out from the other palaces and villas. It lacked its own garden or vast open
spaces like the Kleinstein Household’s. It was a forest of large towers of
differing heights, dominating over the neighbours. They were on pair with the
flats in District 1, the tallest and most impressing blocks, and a few of them
even shadowing them. Each tower had its own distinct personality, some soft,
with curvy windows, elegant balconies with pools, while others were surprising,
having holes in the middle of them or crude, with shapes creating the
impression of sharp cuts and unpredictable edges. The towers where surrounded
by a much less impressive wall, with highly surveyed with cameras and motion
detectors.
He was intimidated by guardhouse at the door, but despite its prison like-
appearance, an old man in similar clothes to his own was operating it. He
demanded some identification papers and a reason for visiting. When Aidan
explained his situation, the elder checked a database on his ACU and approved
his entrance. Right then and there, he morphed into a buffed middle-aged
bodybuilder, his high and innocent voice shifting too into a grave, low one of
villainous resonances.
“Sorray fo’ the rude gesture, sirrah, I wast merely taking care o’ our own
safety. Anon thou has’t the option o’ entering the perimeter. Feeleth safe and
enjoyeth thy stay!” he said as he handed Aidan’s documents back.
On the other side of the gate there was a butler that escorted him to one of
the towers, presenting the basics of different locations and the general layout of
the tower’s inside. The tour ended in front of a pompously ornated wooden
door. She was inside.
Aidan knocked and then opened the door, finding Ira reading a book of
whose cover had a seagle holding a human heart over the dead body of a
birdsnake with its terrifyingly big and bloody claws, tears rolling down its bird
eyes to its beak, crying the death of the other monster.
 “Hey, reading mythology?” Aidan asked, breaking the awkward silence
as she didn’t bother to notice his presence once he entered the room.
“Almost, more of an interpretation of it, actually.” She replied still, not
rising her head out of the book yet.
“Uh… So, the butler told me where the kitchen is. What would you like
to eat tonight?” Aidan asked her from the door frame, crossing his arms.
“Aw, how nice of Neka! Now let me finish the paragraph.” She replied
blankly. Aidan prepared to wait for a few minutes, but only three seconds after
saying that, she continued,
“Alright, I’m done! Let’s go!” and she got out of bed, letting her book
down on the bed and getting up with a sudden wave of refreshed vigor and
vitality, heading straight to the door and leading Aidan to the kitchen.
They passed by a gallery of still-life paintings and in the kitchen and
found somebody on the floor, looking spaced-out and with his eyes glazed. The
very sight of him annoyed Ira and she called out to Neka the butler,
“Hey, who forgot Igon on the floor?! C’mon and get him to his room!
He’s high on the floor again!” she said as she seated herself at a normal-sized
marble-carved table, ignoring the man’s weird moans, but not before gently
kicking him in the side of the abdomen with her leg.
“Who is he?” Aidan asked as he inspected the kitchen, looking to
familiarize himself with the modern appliances. He discovered that it followed
the latest fashions and advancements in the culinary technology, just as he
expected from someone like her.
“Excuse this failure of a man, he’s just my little brother. He’s only 23,
still going through his junkie phase, forgive him. You want some of his thing?”
she asked politely, hiding her mouth with her crossed fingers.
“No, thanks, I don’t do Khala.” Aidan replied and then moved on, “So,
what do you want for dinner?”
“Haha! Please, Khala is for normies! You need to meet lil’ Igo when he’s
in his minds…” she replied smiling between her words, “There is some fresh
beef for a nice steak and a bunch of spices and potatoes in the deposit on the
right. You decide what you want to do with this information.”
“Really?” he asked as he entered the storage room, which had an
alphabetically organized categorisation system. The conversation was
interrupted by his search for ingredients and Ira took the chance to shout louder
at Neka to come and pick up the man.
“Wha… A’ can g’there ma’selve!” Igon groaned turning on his side.
The butler came and promptly took care of him in silence, despite Igon’s
futile protests. As Aidan returned with most of the necessary ingredients
occupying both of his hands. He continued as he tried to open different drawers
to find a cutting board, “Then what? Feliroxin? Yukaitamine?”
“Now that’s what we’re talking about! Be careful, he might have dropped
his needle somewhere on the floor, you don’t want to step on that.” She added,
inspecting the floor. Aidan stopped too, checking his surroundings.
“Be careful, it’s right behind your chair.” He warned her as he took off
the magnetic support a freshly sharpened knife and began slicing through the
potatoes in half with ease and care for the shape of his creation. “By the way,”
he added, “what happened that night at the Gathering?”
She took the needle up and threw it in the biological hazard trashcan in
the corner next to Aidan. Being there, she decided to stay, leaning her back
against the granite countertop.
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to pay for anything, I pay for my pills and
pleasures. We just had fun, although you looked pretty absent.” she confessed.
“Did you give me some Khala?” Aidan asked seriously.
Sensing something was off, she responded negatively, but immediately
asked what was the reason behind the question.
“Nothing, just curious ‘cuz I woke up in hospital and I didn’t remember
much of how the night ended.” he replied and paused to fill a large pot with
water and salted it so he could boil it, and then continued “Then how did I end
up smoking?”
“It just came from the ceiling. It’s a relatively new trick. Instead of
handing cigars or needles, they just gas the room with the smoke. I also woke in
the hospital, but that’s the sign of a decent Gathering.”
“Yeah… You’re right about that. Though I didn’t know they started to
pour it down the ceiling… interesting choice. Never trust a conduct to conduct
properly, nobody knows what their up to.” he replied, putting the potatoes in the
boiling water and opening drawers until he found a rimmed baking sheet and
started heating the oven while hearing her laugh at how bad the pun had been.
 He then made himself useful by moving onto making the marinated
sauce, a masterful combination of balsamic vinegar, light brown sugar, minced
garlic, crushed dried rosemary, salt and paper in which the beef soaked and
absorbed like a sponge the flavour of the dark mix. He joggled this with the
mental gymnastics required for having a conversation with Ira once she asked
him,
“Woah, you really know how to play with words! Can you use this power
for something more useful, like sells? Tell me how was the business meeting?”
she asked gently mocking him.
“Oh, yeah, I told her that… Improv time!” Aidan thought embarrassed of
himself as he remembered what he last told her on the PTV.
“You’d be surprised by the number of scammers I scared off with bad
puns. A true superpower, I’d say!” he said energetically while mixing the
marinated sauce and making eye contact for a second with her. He could tell she
was waiting for a response to the actual question after she had smirked.
“It went well, it wasn’t a particularly big deal, just an evaluation of the
productivity levels at an office in Centre 2. We’ll have to hire some Tunics; the
paperwork is getting behind schedule and we don’t want that. An approximate 5
new employees should do the job, and then we can fire them after the
Cleansing, the time before it is very busy, y’know?” he explained plainly,
taking inspiration from his own workplace.
“Sounds boring, why are you doing this? You’re just wasting your time!”
she asked confused, “I’m sure some Tunic can do the job just as well.”
“C’mon, think of something…” he told himself before saying, “I’ll inherit
the business of my great-grandfather. He made his own factory in the south
back in the day and didn’t consider any descendants worthy. I’m going to show
him that I can administer it well and if I do, maybe one day I’ll start a house of
my own. He couldn’t reach that much prosperity and soon he plans to retire to
the Icetowers.” He related, and complimented himself afterwards for the theatre,
“That was realistic, I got it!”
“But enough about me, how about you? Tell me something interesting!
You said you like to drive, have you ever taken part in races?” Aidan inquired.
“Well, I used to. I don’t know if you follow sports competitions, but last
year I qualified for the quarter-finals of the Cassan Highway Race…” she
responded, recalling in her mind the time when she drove the 100 km of
highway along Cassan City. “Of course, I’ve done more local stuff too, like the
Capital - Phine Route or the Milvan City Circuit actually got in top 5 once or
twice there.”
“Impressive! I don’t follow them, but I heard of all of them. How is it to
participate and why did you stop?” he kept on asking, looking at her from time
to time.
She was hesitant to respond at first, and when she began a sentence, he
stopped her, asking something else related to driving.
“Y’see, I kinda… Had to rethink my priorities for reasons I-”
“It’s ok, you can tell me later. Do you have a favourite road?”
“Oh, yes actually! There is a short portion of road riding along the east
side of Soft Mountains leading to a paragliding resort. It twirls and turns with
the mountains and the sea is right next to you, a thin metal barrier between you
and a fall of a few hundred meters straight into depths. One wrong turn and you
plunge to a nasty death…”
“The view must be incredible! I haven’t been there, but I can image the
smell of the sea mixing with the fresh air… I bet the sunsets are even more
spectacular!” Aidan said, expressing his admiration for such a place.
“I guess so… I mean... It’s hard to concentrate on the surroundings when
you’re drifting at 70 km/h!” she revealed, surprising Aidan to the point of
almost dropping the pot with potatoes and hot water as he drained it in the sink.
“What?! You’re crazy! Why would you do that? It’s so dangerous and
irresponsible, not to say illegal!” he cried out, following after a second of
pausing by saying “Where do I join?”
“I suppose you don’t mind if I can’t share the enthusiasm for the office
life.” She excused herself. “Do you do anything else besides cooking and eating
paper?”
“Well,” Aidan began, starring insistently at her while saying this part, as
if to emphasise something “some wise dude told me once that there is no point
in telling about usual stuff like travelling and the arts,” and after a short pause
where he faked thinking really hard about the subject he moved on, “but there is
not much else to talk about, so I guess the dude was a little crazy; maybe he was
listening to some madman, I don’t know.”
He managed to make her laugh again, after which he continued “I usually
read, but I took a little break this week, I was more busy than usual with the
meetings and the Gathering. I also watch movies, travel, that shtick.”
 Before she could continue with another inquiry, the faint sound of a
drumbeat penetrated the kitchen and Aidan asked about it, dancing to it while he
seasoned the potatoes with the marinade and nested the steak in the middle of
them on the baking sheet, standing out like an island in the middle of the ocean.
“My older brother Zuzen must have forgot the door open while playing
the drums.” She explained spitefully. “He can be unaware of himself
sometimes.”
“He’s got it!” he said, putting the meal in the oven to broil. That was the
moment he noticed that she was not amused and didn’t join in his dancing
masquerade. “What? Are my moves too raw and unbalanced for your tastes?
How about this?”
With the elegance of a drunk elephant in a china shop, he broke into
mindless whirl of bending knees and unpredictable moves in total
desynchronization to the drums, intentionally avoiding any sign of cohesion or
self-respect, which amused her to the point of joining his parade with sudden
bursts of her arms and dizzying nods and shakes of her head coupled with
random kicks from her legs.
Aidan took the knife from the table in a subtle swift motion and took two
steps back, throwing in swirling up in the air, rotating in circles above his head.
Ira saw it as it stopped rotating and began plummeting down point first. Next
thing she knew, Aidan caught the knife mid-air by the blade, not a scratch on
his hand.
“Wow! How did you do that?” she asked wondered by the trick, ceasing
her dancing while the drums were still beating.
“It’s just an old trick, learned by trial and error, all practice.” He replied,
explaining the trick, “I can’t do this with all knifes, but this one is properly
balanced. It’s like half-swording in some ways, all about how you grab the
blade. Look, the sharp edge is towards the outside.”
“But you must have hurt yourself while learning it…” she expressed her
concern.
“Well, it is trial and error, but I practiced with a blunt knife in the
beginning. Still, I got some nasty cuts from time to time.” he told her. “Now it’s
time to check the steak!”
He opened the oven and pulled the baking sheet towards him, inspecting
the meat visually and checking its consistency with pressing it with the back of
a fork. He concluded it was time to switch it on the other side.
 “Smells really good! Do you know any other tricks?” she asked curiously.
“Yeah, about two minutes and it’s ready… Not with a knife, tricks are
just a bonus I practice sometimes, I don’t pick them up just to impress, but they
are good at that.” he replied, continuing the conversation with a curiosity of his
own, “Aaaand were you in a band with this Zuzen or is he solo?”
“I haven’t played with him for years, since we were kids. Had a band
with lil’ Igo and my sisters back in the day. I wasn’t particularly talented, I
helped with the lyrics and backing vocals, though I got to play the piano
sometimes.”
“Can I hear some singles? I suppose you still have recordings. Maybe an
album?” Aidan requested, but his excitement was cut short by a decisive refusal.
“No, it’s horrible, believe me” she explained laughing, but embarrassed
by the memories brought to mind “We were all so different back then, it’s
irrelevant. It was fun at the time, but no. Zuzen still plays the drums solo and
publishes beats from time to time.”
“I understand.” Aidan assured her, stopping the oven and looking around
for some gloves to take out the meal safely. He found some, unassisted, and left
the smoking hot plate of the tabletop, now looking for some plates to serve his
creation. He arranged the table all by himself while still chatting with Ira and
looked for some wine to go along with it in the storage room.
They were both enjoying the food and unbeknownst to Aidan, Ira wanted
to roll her eyes behind her head once the music stopped and she heard distant
steps descending the main staircase.
Aidan saw Zuzen come down and head towards them, stopping in the
hallway to admire one of the still-life paintings.
“Ah! What a masterpiece!” he declared loudly in front of one of them.
“It’s beautiful, it makes me smile. The talent and hours spend to capture each
and every detail… Wonderful!” and afterwards approached the kitchen,
knowing very well what was about to happen.
“You pass everyday by that bowl of pears, apples and a banana.” Ira
argued after swallowing.
“And?” Zuzen replied, coming with his hands behind his back. “Isn’t that
beautiful? That I can enjoy it each and every time, no matter the day, no matter
how often? I consider it to be a unique quality!” he added, making sure to step
on Ira’s nerves with his attitude and tonality.
 As he entered the kitchen, he noticed that his little sister wasn’t alone at
the table, but with some other dude.
“Uh… That explains why she’s here…” he thought to himself before
excusing his language, “Excuseth mine own verbal delinquency, kind sirrah! It
wast not t’insulteth thy ability o’ comprehending refined speech or t’giveth the
impression o’ foolishness on mine own behalf in thy eyes!” and bowing a little
in front Aidan.
“Nay, don’t thee fret, this is an informal meeting, speak in the manner
you prefer!” Aidan forgave him, bowing while still sitting, limiting his gesture
to a slight bending forward of his torso. He knew it would be unpolite to stand
up and bow properly if he had been already seated.
“Tell me then, what do you think of that painting?” he asked Aidan with a
certain slyness in his eyes.
“Um… Well, I didn’t get the best of looks while in a rush, so my opinion
is not to be held as divine judgement,” he said, worried by Ira’s visible
nervousness and anger. He didn’t know what to say, but he had to reply
somehow, trying his best to satisfying both. “I think it is worthy of being
exposed where it is!”
“Really?!” he replied obviously faking his surprise for a sarcastic effect.
“Look Iry, a man of culture! Isn’t it wonderful you found somebody like him?
One that can appreciate the aesthetic is one that-” he said until he was
interrupted by her yelling at him and banging her fist the table,
“Cease kissin’ thy own arse, pidgeon-livered womble o’ scurvy ‘n ripe
grapes! Methink’st thou art in a favourable position t’begone!”
Aidan was scared by what he saw and Zuzen smiled, satisfied, leaving the
room with a last comment,
“As a man addressing another man, I recommend you sir don’t make any
plans for the future. Enjoy your three days!”
“Sew thy mouth shut!” she replied as Zuzen stopped by the door.
“I almost forgot! How could I?” and he returned to the kitchen in a hurry.
“Sorry for the displeasure, but could one taste this steak?”
Ira sighed and groaned before giving his permission. Zuzen quickly took
his own fork and knife from a drawer and tasted it from her plate. He also stole
a potato. He threw his cutlery in the sink and left the kitchen for real while
giving a review of the food.
 “Who on earth cooked his insult to the life of the cow? The juice is all
wrong, the outside is burned beyond any good conceivable reason, the
seasoning is a mess of things that should never have seen each other and the
potatoes are actually fine, but overboiled. A disgrace! Who the fuck cooked
this? Do we have to ask Neka to fire Itzal?! How could he mess up so badly?”
“Wait Zuzen!” Ira called him, but he ignored her, still revolted by the
taste of the food,
“This is inacceptable! How is one supposed to enjoy themselves like
this?! This is beyond unpolite, this is illegal!”
“Zuzy!” Ira called him again, resorting to something she knew would
make him stop and listen. She followed him to the staircase with Aidan shortly
behind her.
“Stop fucking calling me that, Iry! What the fuck is wrong with you? Is
everyone going mad?!”
“Calm your horses, dumbshit! My date cooked the food for me, you were
never supposed to eat it, cunt!”
“Oh, well… in that case… Newcomer, I have very high standards from
our personal chef, he knows my favourite tastes in and out, so I hold him to very
high standards. But I expect you to understand that.” Zuzen excused himself.
“Pardon my outburst. It was actually decent, now that the proper context is
given. Enjoy yourselves.”
He calmly descended the rest of the stairs minding his own business.
Aidan on the other hand, looked at the gallery of paintings and proclaimed a
change of opinion towards the painting.
“Hm… On second thought, this is an insult to my eyes. I can hear the
author’s ego groaning and screaming to me through the careless, hastily and
crude brushes of washed-out plain colours. And it’s saying ‘I’m a jerk, end my
suffering!’. Truly a meaningless conglomeration of spiteful shades and a waste
of canvas. I want some compensation money for the crime of having this
horrible image burned on my retinas.” And while saying this, his mind was in
another place.
“Yeah…” he thought to himself, “He’s just awful, I’m glad she’s not like
this… At least on the surface, I mean, he also tried to behave nicely at first…
Disgusting spoiled shit… Or shits?... What am I getting into? At least… at least
it’s still a life of luxury, keep your mind on that, take one for the team and
everything will be alright.”
 Next, he and Ira laughed as they returned to the kitchen, making a
competition out of who can insult the painting and its author in the most
creative and imaginative ways.
“So, I guess that his attitude is why the band broke up?” Aidan asked as
they entered the kitchen before resuming his eating. He also noticed that her leg
was shacking as if nervous, so he assumed it was because of his question.
“Um… Yeah… That is part of the reason…” she replied, glad that Aidan
didn’t press on the matter for the rest of the dinning. After finishing it, Ira made
sure to give her own take on the food prepared for her.
“Y’know, I like it! It’s flavourful and the steak is medium rare, just the
way it is supposed to be. The baked potatoes are some of the best I’ve had in
while, they complement it perfectly. Not to forget that this wine that you chose
goes really well with it all…”
“Thanks! Just doing my best for the best, seems normal to me! Medium
rare, just perfect! Well done is for savages!” he replied, chuckling together.
He personally preferred the well-done variety of steak, but he knew in
certain circles it was a blasphemy to utter. He learned this the hard way when he
was a chef at the restaurant.
After finishing, Ira pulled a cigar out of a compartment of her dress and
smoked right then and there, filling the room with the smell of the substance.
Aidan was upset by this lack of regard to his preference and got up, coughing
out the substance as he left for the corridor.
“Excuse me… I don’t…” he tried to explain between his coughs.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to, I forgot, I didn’t think you were for real
when you said that…” she apologised, putting the cigar back in her pocket and
turning on the ventilation in the room.
He observed how her leg returned to normal now, even though he saw her
shacking it for the whole duration of the meal. He noted this in his head, as now
he was sure of the degree of her addiction.
“This is Khala… Didn’t you say it was for normies?”
“Well, yeah, but what’s so wrong about being one? You’d rather I end up
miserable like lil’ Igo?” she clarified.
“Good point, I wouldn’t wish you that.”
 The two left the dirty plates in the sink and Ira called on Neka again to
take care of washing them. Aidan wouldn’t have minded doing that himself, but
he knew that it was something considered too low for him as a wannabe normal
guy and on top of that he would be wasting time that could have spent with her.
This proved true when she invited him to watch a movie, and by invitation she
meant more of a declaration he had to obey to,
“Let’s watch a movie!” and she grabbed him by the hand, pulling him
behind her all the way to the home theatre.
Together they sat on a large sofa in a room dimly lit. Once they opened
the screen the entire chamber fell under the blanket of darkness, with the sole
source of light being the screen itself.
“What do you want to watch?” Aidan asked her politely.
“Dalnon’s Real House? Have you seen the last episodes?”
“Yes, that’s just fine with me. Let’s watch that.” He replied on a normal
voice. It was one of the most popular shows, something everyone could get
behind and enjoy, a light-hearted comedy. It was not exactly Aidan’s favourite,
he kept up with the plot more by the articles written about it and what others
like Sam or Judy told him.
The episode began, the two standing one next to the other. Most of the
time they just laughed at the puns in the show and pointed out inconsistencies,
“Why is he just standing there?” Ira asked rhetorically, to which Aidan
had to reply,
“I don’t know. Maybe he saw somebody?”
And then the audio reigned supreme again over the domain of the theatre,
until Aidan’s voice rebelled against it.
“Just tell her already! What are you waiting for?! C’mon, just get over it!
It’s obvious they are gonna get together…”
“Ssssssh! Shut up!” Ira replied, eyes fixed on the screen and holding her
breath, captivated, living out the suspense the show intended to induce in the
audience, a feeling Aidan could not relate to.
He looked at her, fascinated by the behaviour a show could induce more
than the show itself. He wished he could be like that too, lost in the moment and
living to the fullest, but the show did not matter for him too much. This was
caused by his attitude and down to earth lifestyle, so different from the rest,
chasing highs and being carefree, and he knew it. In moments like this he
wished to be like them, even if it costed his integrity and would’ve turned him
into a self-absorbed man.
“YES! I KNEW IT!” Ira burst in joy and gratitude. “Finally, they got
together! Aaaw!”
Aidan woke up from his sleepy meditation in front of the screen and
joined her in her celebration, stating his own feelings of delight, even though
they were fake, just to keep up the façade.
“I shipped those two from the moment I put my eyes on then three
seasons ago!” she added.
“Shhh, look what they’re doing now!” Aidan replied.
Now he had time to think about what she just said. They were two side
characters. It made her sound pretty obsessed, but then again, who wasn’t? That
wasn’t a problem with her, it was just a stupid habit people had those days.
“Yeah, it might be stupid, but…” he thought to himself, remembering
how he didn’t afford to have the same mindset. Yet, looking at her, he could
feel a part of that childlike innocence and freedom inside him. “It is… I
guess…” and letting himself admit that he felt good when he saw her, by all
means irrational, behaviour “It’s kinda cute… And she’s kinda cute.”
He let go of his imposed disgust, a self-defending mechanism against the
outside, and in admitting his defeat, he put his arm around her and the two
continued watching much closer, with her head resting on his shoulder. Aidan in
turn, bended his head over on the side so he could keep his cheek on top of her
head. It wasn’t the most comfortable a position for him and probably neither
was it for her. But it was not about being comfortable, as life was for the
average living human, in an average moment. It was about sending a message.
He could feel beneath her hair the pulse of her blood pounding through her
veins and could hear the moment she swallowed. It seemed gross, but it
reminded him of the balance that a living body was, the fragility of its integrity,
the beauty of live and the wonder of its equilibrium.
After the episode was over, they exchanged a few problems they had had
with it.
“Overall, I loved it, but it was annoying how they took like five entire
minutes at the beginning before revealing who the new character was.” Ira
began.
 “Yeah, in fact yes, it made it awkward with the fast-paced scene, it made
it harder to follow what was going on or why you had to care about it.” Aidan
added, agreeing with her on this matter.
“I know! I also find it ridiculous how they censored bad words like
‘Doomsland’ with meaningless gibberish like ‘hell’. I found that annoying.” Ira
continued.
“I think they made it that way to get the age restrictions down, after all
this episode was heavier than the usual ones. Maybe they tried to make it funny,
but it didn’t land well.” He tried to make sense of the decision-making process.
“Not at all. But besides that, I loved it! I’m so glad Jack and Neya are a
thing now! I can’t wait for the next one!”
“Well, you won’t have to wait a lot, tomorrow’s two hours away!”
“Plenty of time!” she replied as the credits ended and the entire room
turned into a black mass.
About half an hour later, the two left the theatre, walking outside as
Aidan decided it was time to return home.
“And what do you think of these protesters? I suppose you heard of them,
occupying Centre 1 and all that stuff.” Aidan asked, curious to see what her
opinion was.
“Oh, those… You care? I might have an unpopular opinion, nobody from
this Household really agrees to be honest…” she replied hesitantly.
“Now you got me intrigued! If I may, I would love to find out!” he
encouraged her to express herself, seeing an opportunity of her being different
from many other living and dead folks alike.
“Alright then…” she began, seeing his sparkling with interest, for some
reason hopeful, eyes. “I think they should get what they want. We in the
Lavonian part of the association are doing quite well and are responsible for the
disaster that is Haktun now. We should make it our main focus to restore the
place, and then let those who want to return to their traditional life do just that.
We have the power to help them, so why wait for them to organise themselves
and come up with the solutions themselves? I mean, where is the equality if
they have to obey by what is convenient for us?”
“Wow!” Aidan cried out, impressed.
 “I know, I know… You think that’s too much independence and self-
government, it’s like dismembering the Association... Or that they agreed to
build the factories, so that they are just as guilty and it’s their homeland, it
would be more unequal to impose our way of saving it on them, that they should
rebuilt it all by themselves. You might believe that it’s irrelevant because most
of them are well assimilated in Cassan, and these guys over there are just some
vocal minority, that they don’t represent the whole nation, but I disagree, that’s
the reason why they won’t be taken seriously in the Parliament. Their
representatives represent the interests of the assimilated, not of them, they are
all alone. If we don’t make room for them, we’ll return to the tyranny that was
before the war, and we don’t want that. I’m ready to listen to whatever you have
to say.”
“I can’t believe it!” he responded to the influx of information.
“That’s what I believe.” she said, almost ashamed, looking with
confusion at Aidan’s excited face.
“That’s what I believe too! It’s a mistake made in the past and the only
reason it doesn’t also affect us is because of the Wind Barrier, and that’s selfish.
If we are all part of one nation now, we should act like one. I don’t believe the
economy would be too disturbed by such a change or the productivity too
effected. I think that all those warnings are just fearmongering and excuses not
to change. I don’t know why they don’t want to change, maybe it would mean
too much of an investment or they don’t want the Hakdan to keep their own
identity, I’m not sure, I have no idea.” he confessed his agreement, coming to
terms with his surprise and calming down his heartbeat.
“I’m not sure either, every time I entered an argument with my
Househead at reunions, I got the same non-sense about the economy and the
votes not being in their favour or the technology not being ready… Maybe they
have a point, but they’re making a terrible job at explaining it.”
“Yeah… suspicious behaviour, I might say. Have you actually been to
one of these protests, like see it with your own eyes?” he asked, an idea forming
in his head.
“No, I’d like to, for sure, but I’m afraid they might get aggressive.
Frustrations can make people irrational and attack based on appearances, not on
actual thoughts. Have you, brave fella?”
“I have the courage of a thousand spineless lions! I went there and got
beaten up senseless in the name of freedom and equality!” he replied
triumphantly, saluting the stars in the sky with an iron fist.
 “Really?!” she asked surprised.
“Of course not, but I went disguised and nothing happened. If you want,
we can go together, see what’s going on and stuff.” He replied, explaining his
sarcasm.
“Huh… I never thought of that. Sure!” she told him, changing the subject
afterwards and asking for permission, “Now, you showed me that you can cook,
let me at least drive you home.”
“Thank you very much, but it’s late and really not necessa-” he tried to
turn her down, but failed as he got interrupted by her speaking over him.
“Please?” she asked, adamant to not accept a refusal.
“Alright then, let’s go!” he conceded to her firm wishes, accepting that he
would have to confess his actual identity and material condition. He already lied
enough and kept away parts of himself. It was time to come out, unfortunately.
She led the way to the garage where he set his eyes on a personalised
sportscar. They got in and drove to the gate, which was opened by the guardian,
letting them out. No sooner had Aidan got to buckle his seatbelt than she
accelerated, pressing down on the gas pedal, zooming like a maniac along the
road, with each and every turn the car drifting a little to the sides while she was
turning the steering wheel like crazy to ensure they didn’t end up in a ditch and
using the handbrake. Aidan could saw the discontinuous white lines in the
middle of the road as just one, while the fences and streetlights were in his sight
for but what seemed as a fraction of a second, barely having the time to process
what he was seeing before they disappeared, replaced by a new set. He glued
himself to the chair and fought in vain against the forces driving and pushing
him around like seaweed by the currents, terrified by the feeling of slipping
away. He was not amused, like Ira was grinning or even laughing in-between
the manoeuvres, enjoying every second of the high speed fight against the
invisible giant trying to push them over, but he was holding on to dear life,
mumbling things related to stopping and slowing down to no avail, for they fell
onto deaf ears.
It ended after a few minutes when they entered Centre 5 and he got back
to breathing normally, the rush of adrenaline fading away. Ira started the
conversation when she noticed Aidan returned to relative normality.
“You looked terrible, but it feels great, huh? It’s not like one of those
controlled paraglider flights where there is no real danger, and you know that in
the back of your mind. They experience cheap highs, fakes, imitations of the
original, true danger that you hold in your own arms.”
He, having returned to reason, realised that in spite of the terror he felt at
the moment, he enjoyed it. Not that it meant wanting to experience it again, but
that it was a unique feeling that he could appreciate.
“Yeah, it’s like the difference of watching a horror movie and actually
going to war, I think.” he replied, finding a suitable analogy.
“It’s not like that entirely, I’d never do anything that is remotely out of
my comfort and safety zone with somebody that I give a shit for in the car.
Don’t worry!” she corrected the analogies’ faulty comparison.
Aidan had enough time for the rest of the journey to think about what had
happened that day as she didn’t speed up anymore, on basis of it being too late.
“Woah, what a show!” he told himself. “Alright, so to recap, taking
everything into consideration, she’s… uh… Not perfect, by far. She’s addicted
to that substance, but that was to expect, and she could’ve ended up worse. It’s
been a while since the last dose and she’s still driving fine, so I guess it’s not
that bad… Her obsession with those characters in the series is just weird, not
even a drawback and is kinda nice actually, got me to let my guard down, and I
can appreciate that. Less excusable is this determination she has, when she
dragged me around or asked questions just as a formality, with her mind already
made up. But then again, this trait is pretty common among these folks and
unlike then, she doesn’t seem totally self-absorbed. She said she cares and
wouldn’t risk somebody else’s life with risky driving and she hasn’t done it
since…” and he analysed her further, trying his best to find as many good things
about her as there seemed to be.
“Yeah, I didn’t ask for help in the kitchen with finding stuff to see if she
helped me and she didn’t… But maybe if I asked, she would’ve. Still, that
shows she doesn’t have a keen sense of observation when it comes to people in
need. It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t care about the needy, she expressed
herself clearly in regard to those protesters, I haven’t seen somebody so lenient
towards them that also acknowledged their danger, yet forgave them. I expected
not to find a single Lavonian who thinks like this, yet here we are…” he though
as his eyes followed the passing lights and flats through the window.
“Even more, considering her two brothers, she could’ve ended up way
worse, her older brother shows perfectly the wicked mask these people wear all
the time, so disgusting… Yet she was different, she didn’t hesitate to leave
behind the pompous language of the literate and just have a casual conversation.
Maybe she is different after all. I have to try, she deserves a chance. I’m gonna
show her, I am gonna tell her.”
He was ultimately trying to convince himself that she was fine, that it
could’ve been worse, the degree to which he excused her negative traits for the
sake of getting together and escaping poverty being ignored. He knew he was
doing that, but was willing to sacrifice and lower his standards very much. He
still had his own limits, as he refused being with people that resembled her older
brother more than anything. “Compromises have to be made after all, right? Of
course…”
When they got to Centre 2, Aidan instructed her what turns to take as she
unknowingly didn’t drive him to a hotel, but to his apartment.
“Ok, we arrived!” he told her, starting to sweat as his heart rammed
against his lungs, as if trying to escape the chest’s prison.
She pressed the brake all of a sudden on the empty street, as she didn’t
expect their arrival.
“Where is the hotel? I don’t see it” she said, inspecting the street.
“Well, I have to tell you something, you deserve to know this…” he
began, shallowing his pride.
“You’re scaring me…” she replied, worried by his discomfort and clearly
powerful emotions.
“I… I live here.” he confessed, breaking eye contact as he could not take
it anymore, holding his palms together as he gestured some of his emotions out
of his system. “The Suburb 93, the Household, it’s all just a façade, a lie, to be
blunt. In this flat-” he paused a second to concentrate his powers on not
shedding a tear, “In this flat on the right there are some apartments that I’ve
turned into rooms.”
“And the rest of your Household? Why is the Househead allowing this to
happen? It’s unfair, just sue him!” she replied, somewhat revolted but also
fearful as she felt he had something more to say.
“I am alone, I am the Househead of the Farefax Household.” he explained
dreadfully, stopping time in place as he regained the strength to make eye
contact.
“But… You’re alive… How?” she asked, shocked beyond belief and
baffled, dismayed by his story and confused, to the point of falling with her
back tightly against the chair, trying to process and make sense of it all between
heavy breaths.
“Maybe she needs some time to comprehend and process this… Who am
I fooling?” Aidan thought in an everlasting second.
“Sorry for this, for hiding this for so long. Please forgive me.” He
whispered, as he could not muster the breaths to say anything more.
“Holy birdsnakes, this is not alright!... I can see on her face, I fucked up,
I failed. I guess they are all the same. I was just fooling myself; I was just lying
to myself, wasn’t I? How could I have deceived myself like this? How could I
believe she stands out of the crowd? I am delusional, what the Doomsland! I
have no chance!” he thought as he left the car, disappointed by himself for
believing what he did and by her blank reception of the truth. She didn’t try to
reach back, probably still stunned by Aidan’s testament, but for him in the
moment, the silence was just a silent confirmation of her rejection.
Aidan got inside his apartment. He gave out a huge sigh, barely able to
rise his eyes from the floor. His face, legs, arms and most importantly mind,
were numb, like dead weights hanging from strings from his heavy heart. His
arms moved, but his grip was virtually inexistent. Heading straight to his
bedroom, he turned on the TV to a music channel and sat on the edge listening
to it, closing his eyes. He sang in his own mind, clearing his thoughts, but the
numbness didn’t go away. He closed it and listened to some of his favourite
songs on his PTV to no avail.
Now he was tired, wanting nothing more than to sleep. His heart woke
him up each time he tried and his closed eyes painted a blurry figure of
disturbing nothingness that he could not focus on. He tried to make sense of it,
but it was out of his reach. Just like something else had been out of his reach,
and that thought only sent a message to his heart to beat faster and made his
mind loosen, catching it in a vicious cycle of spiralling down into
disappointment and hopelessness, a sense of lack of purpose.
He was thinking it. He thought of giving up. He could battle it with a
burst of willpower, but he could not defeat himself. It persisted.
“Does it even matter? For what are you doing this? Why hope, why lie,
why bother? How could it be? Where’s the point in all of this? There’s nothing,
you should give up, there is no sense. No direction. You’re just delaying the
inevitable and you know it… No! I’m wrong, I just need to wait, to wait for it to
go away and it will make sense again! Remember… Life is beautiful… Life is
beautiful… Life is good… I’ll go away and you’ll see it, you’ll find pleasure
and satisfaction in the pain, you’ll love it again… But wouldn’t it be more
pleasurable… easier… better… in the end to just… stop. Stop it all. Stop it
before it goes too far. Stop it now and spare the disappointment. Spare the
numbness, spare yourself of… No! I won’t spare myself the beauty of going
through this, the satisfaction of not giving in, I won’t spare myself that! I’ll
see… life is beautiful… life is beautiful…”
He had to get away, to take a break, to pause the war, to keep his mind off
it, too exile the pain in his heart, to give up, not on life, but on disappointment.
He reopened the TV on a music channel, raised the volume and went straight to
the kitchen, where he opened a drawer and started eating biscuits and drinking
milk besides them. He chewed, he focused on chewing. It was something so…
primal, so basic, such an essential instinct, a part of his being the Tunics were
denied of possessing… It made it somewhat better. He could concentrate on
swallowing, on the taste, and only have to deal with the heartache and his gut
wrenching. Sitting at the table was not good enough for him. His jiggling leg
didn’t help and he had to make a conscious effort to keep his shoulders straight.
So, he walked across the room, form one end to the other eating biscuits. Still
not enough to calm him down.
A thought crossed his mind. A simple idea. Something easy. Not a
permanent solution, of course… just a… temporary measure. Yes, a temporary
measure for sure. Just now, because now was a special occasion. He deserved it,
he thought. After so much, he even tried his best to calm himself. He would be
fine in the morning, he knew that for sure, but time had frozen in place. The
morning would never come… without a little help. Just for the moment. It
would not be a habit, oh no! In this situation it was understandable, quite
reasonable one might say! It definitely didn’t do harm. An aid with the sleep,
just to make the time move again, that’s it! That’s all!
“Bullshit! No! Damned Doomsland, no! For the sake of the spirits, no!
Fucking shit, no!” he denied, refusing to believe the thought and the temptation
that were in his head. It was not him; it was someone else, he was better than
this! He was stronger! That’s why he took the decision to leave the kitchen and
to lock himself in the living room, away from the methadone in the bathroom.
He was in control, otherwise he couldn’t have abstained. He proved it to
himself, he didn’t need anyone else’s help, for he was strong! He was so strong,
in fact, that he could open the door and still abstain himself. He could do it, he
was strong enough to sit in the bathroom with the methadone in front of him
and still not fail, not give in to his desire for inner peace, for sleep, for rest!
 “No! More bullshit! Fuck! Why?! NO! Stop it, Aidan, go to sleep, calm
down and go to sleep! You can do that, right?” he told himself as he laid his
body on the bed.
A headache struck him. It was painful, awful, he had to bury his face into
the pillow to attenuate it, to make himself feel better. But the pain… the
headache… was like dying. A sudden, overwhelming, unpredictable… shut
down. He didn’t fight his demons anymore, for there were no demons. Just a
mild heartache that felt more like a gentle feather tickling it. His breaths of air
became longer. He calmed down, but his head hurt. It didn’t feel good to be at
peace. It was not satisfying, and the pain took more and more of his head, more
and more of his consciousness, until he became unable to pinpoint the certain
instant he fell asleep, like rolling down on a spectrum of nothingness into a
world of something else, a world of shapes and concepts, not emotions. He
faded into nothingness.

Chapter 7: Nalaki!

“What?! What did he just say?! H-how? This make no sense…” Ira
thought in the driver’s seat, and only when she turned her head to look at him
one more time, she realised he had left the car. “No! Where did the fucker go?!
What!? Why did he just leave without a word? Ugh!” she paused to calm her
headache by swallowing a pill she took from one of the car’s drawers.
“No, no, this is too much, I’ll make sense of this in the morning, I’ll call
him in the morning and clear things out…” and she decided to leave, driving
back home.
As she paid attention to the road, she felt a weight in the back of her head,
almost like a feeling of being watched, but not knowing by whom. There was a
constant incentive to look back, to answer to the calling and confront the weigh
in the back of her head. She could not ignore it anymore and replied, pulling
over on the right as not to be a nuisance to the inexistent traffic.
“Right, so… for whatever reasons he’s poor, I don’t think another word
would pay his condition justice. Maybe his family was killed or they just didn’t
want to abort him, but neither take him into the family or who knows, he just
ended up alone and poor. Seagles, how does he live like this? Why didn’t he kill
himself? I have so many questions to ask him, but it’s late…” she told herself
perplexed, as a lightning bolt struck her mind, bringing light to a suppressed
hope, her levels of enthusiasm rising exponentially as time passed as she
continued her train of thought,
“Wait a second, so I do like him, he seems funny enough and is
interesting, sleeps decently well and if he agrees with me on the matters of the
protests, we may be compatible on several levels, maybe even the life-
philosophy one… And with him being poor, he can’t pay to have me into his
family and probably wouldn’t want me to join his poverty, not that I would be
eager to do that myself… Either way, that’s beside the point; the idea is that I
can convince my Househead to adopt him into the family, and then we can be
together and I might escape having to marry Arantzazu! It’s a win-win! He’ll
get out-” and another idea brutally interrupted her ecstatic high spirits, forcing
her to let down her victorious fists and bring them her down with her mood.
“Yeah… Indeed… What if he’s been acting this whole time, just to get
me to like him so he can escape his condition? Who knows what kind of things
has he had to appeal to in order to survive? Is he a murderer, a thief? Can he
even behave properly in society? Now I get why his Lavonian tongue is bad,
who knows what kind of tutoring he had, if he even ever had a tutor. What if
he’s actually dangerous and would hurt me or somebody else from my family?
Not that it would be a tragedy to lose Zuzy or Igo, but Neka, Itzal and the rest
that are always nice? No way. Still, he behaved absolutely calmly when Zuzy
acted like a dick as usual and I lost my nerve. Never, not even drunk has he ever
shown a sign of violence, maybe except the knife trick. Maybe he actually
knows how to use a knife to fight, that would be awesome if he could teach me,
heh…” but she calmed down, the effect of the pill kicking in. She no longer felt
the headache and she refocused her contemplations towards the important
question that still needed an answer.
“Nope, I don’t have proof for any of that. I need to get to know him
better, but I am running out of time. To make sure nothing is being orchestrated
without my knowledge, I’ll tell Agure right tomorrow, but I have to decide if
it’s worth shooting in the dark over staying on the path beaten for me. And who
am I fooling, anything that gives me a chance of not going there is worth it. I
don’t know who I’ll evade the Househead’s pressures later, but at least for now
I have a plan, a direction. Agure will surely understand, and more than likely
Heriotza too.”
She drove off into the night, on the way home, disregarding any speed
limitations in order to get home sooner and get to bed. She parked her car in the
garage and headed straight for her bedroom. She took a few puffs of Khala
before going in her private bath, its door being on the other side of the rom from
her bed, she set the temperature of the water at equivalent of 42 degrees Celsius
and let the bathtub fill with the water. She added a mixed powder of coconut
bath soak and a foamy bath bomb. Toppling the mix with bath salts and a
handful of rose petals, she lit some perfumed candles around the tub and got
inside, double clapping to signal the house computer to close the lights.
“Anima, play ‘Bath playlist’, would you?” she said, and the innocent
gentle sound of microscopic waves colliding like a hug against her tender skin
and the tub itself was given company by soft background music that caressed
her ears.
In this tamed environment she almost fell asleep in the half hour she
spent soaking, clearing her mind and letting herself melt within the flowery and
fruity smells, becoming one with the silken texture of the water.
“The pre-set time is up; do you wish to continue?” a very human,
feminine voice called in the dark.
“Anima, no. Turn the lights on slowly. I will get out in a second, thanks!”
she replied as the brightness of the room increased gradually as to avoid
discomforting her eyes.
After drying herself in a bath coat, she did the same to her hair, and used
a scrunchy to tie it in a ponytail. It was time to chance in her sleeping clothes,
consisting of silk bottoms and a bralette.
She moved the book she left on the king-size bed to a coffee table by the
window. She then laid on the bed, resting against the memory foam mattress
and sinking among the four pillows she had there. In such circumstances, under
a warm blanket, it was impossible not to drift off in the distance. She fell asleep,
eagerly waiting with high expectations the next day, sure that all would turn out
fine, as per usual.
In the morning, once she lazily woke up, she pressed a button next to her
bed to signal her awakening to the rest. Going to the door on the other side of
the room, she entered the bathroom to properly wash her face by applying with
her fingertips skin cleanser on her wetted face and washing it off with lukewarm
water and tap-drying it with a towel. She then applied moisturizer and washed
her hands with a multitude of products, besides brushing her teeth.
Now it was time to change to proper clothes for the rest of the day, so she
went next door to the bathroom and entered her personal dressing room. There,
after sorting out through a haystack of outfits arranged neatly in a rotating
wardrobe, she chose a silk, loose dress with batwing sleeves, tied at the middle
and overlapping itself, creating a waterfall effect. It had a print comprised of a
dark blue to pinkish-orange gradient over a marble texture, creating the effect of
a colourful gas mixing and expanding itself in the air.
After smoking some Khala, she left her room, which was better described
as a private apartment, and passed by Zuzen’s, but also a few others that where
empty or assigned new destinations on her way to the main spiral staircase. It
was better for her physical condition to use it and not the elevator around which
it was twisting, after all. It didn’t take long, as the floor of her generation was
above only the one with entertainment facilities and communally shared things
like the kitchen where Aidan cooked last night. Her parent’s and ancestor’s
floors where above, taking up the remaining seven, but the top was mostly
empty, all of them working in the south or away at trading ports.
By the time she finished descending, in the main dining room at the
ground level of her tower, the breakfast was ready. A fresh, still warm veggie
omelette was on the large elliptic polished Rhovnian ironwood table, wide and
long enough to easily accommodate up to a hundred people if need be. She
seated all by herself with soft ambient music above her head on a puffed
armchair fitting her height perfectly. Her place had been planned in advance
near the end of the semi-major axis, far from the co-vertex where a throne-like
silvery and purple armchair was sitting cold and silently.
She began eating with the silver cutlery, decorated with gold and
gemstones imported from Rhovna on the handle. It was masterfully crafted by
hand in a workshop down in Hakdan, while the porcelain plate where the food
was placed was of a more local craftsmanship, ornated by artisans in the city of
Milvan, where she used to race sometimes. She washed it down with a juice of
oranges from the Colony served in a quartz cup, and adamantly left the dining
hall on the automatic door.
In the yard between the towers there were here and there a few people
walking too. They were mostly cousins living in the other towers, on their way
to visit each other or to access the facilities of another tower. She was glad last
night when her and Aidan entered the theatre that it was not occupied by
somebody else, as only a few of them had one. If she wanted to use the gym on
the other hand, the options where limited to going in a Centre and exercise there
or go to a tower that had one. And how going to the city was not necessarily the
best idea given that so many others from Households that didn’t have the luxury
of a private gym resorted to going there. It was too busy for a proper civilized
person’s tastes, so the meetings with her trainer took place in cousin Herlax’s on
booked days.
She made her way to the centre of the propriety, where another tower
eclipsed one still in the process of being built. She entered and this time took the
elevator to the last floor. Stepping out confidently in a blank white-blue themed
hallway lit by neon lights, she rang the bell at the door in the back and sat on a
chair next to it, checking out news on her PTV while waiting for permission to
enter and soon enough, a green light signalled that she was welcomed inside.
“I doth humbly appreciateth beyond belief thy warm welcoming!” she
said as she bowed before a Tunic dressed in silver-stripped dark purple, with her
arms behind her back, while still in the doorframe.
He was standing in the middle of the room, a desk with papers and
stamps watching them in front of a large window that overlooked the propriety.
“’Tis the motive fo’ mine own presence and position t’serveth thee and
yee. Mine own honour!” he replied and then moved on, indicating the direction
of the desk as he said, “Now let’s get to business. What do you want? I don’t
have all day; workers don’t pay themselves. They need me!”
“Agure, I suppose you know of my shenanigans from last night.” she
replied blankly, closing the door behind her. “I just wanted to tell you not to
plan anything with Arantzazu. You could as well tell her to find somebody else
and not waste time anymore, together with my apologies, of course.”
“Aaah!” he smiled, turning his back to the only source of light and thus
overwhelming his face with shadows, hiding his facial expression. “It’s about
that matter, I understand. Well, I wish you best of everything, but I need a
written declaration of renouncing to the right of dowry from the Househead and
a medical note attesting to the lucky man’s reproductive abilities, not your
word. I hope you understand. It’s just the documents needed to officiate the
wedding.” he explained condescendingly.
“I’ll get you those” she replied defyingly, “by the end of the week.”
“Hah! Good one! I wish, but no matter what the boy told you, something
like that won’t happen, I’m sorry to break it down to you! That’s just not how
any of this works. Nobody would accept not to receive the money that should
come with you.” he said chuckling. “You’re too valuable, people have
expectations! Accept that. I didn’t turn down every guy trying to marry me in
the last 4 years! You did.”
 “Well, of course, you know that I didn’t even like more than half of those
bastards!” she said, beginning to lose her temper.
“Stop making excuses! You were supposed to be married by 25, now you
fucked the schedule. You should be thankful you didn’t get disowned at that
point! I did everything I could to buy time for you, but it’s never enough, is it?
Now you’ve become a risky investment for any groom’s Househead. They
demand an even higher dowry and you didn’t follow the plan, so you got no
dowry. Just accept that!” Agure yelled, banging the desk with his first to let out
some of his frustration. He then continued softly,
“You know your parents were planned clearly to have one boy and a girl,
but instead we ended up with two boys and a disastrous three girls. The
manager back then convinced Heriotza not to kick them out or abandon any of
you. Their mistake follows you all, and you worsened it. Your sisters ended up
with unmarriable deadbeats from another branch to save money. You know the
story, I know it’s not convenient, but it’s better than living on the streets, right?”
he said gesturing to window.
“It is, definitely, but you also know it’s wrong to do something like that,
and this time it’s different. I suggest you prepare for an adoption!” she replied
calmly, finding her steel confidence and determination.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s bad and all with both of you preferring guys and all that,
I suggest you get over it. Her line is an absolute disaster with her having only
two sisters and no brothers. And we run out of deadbeats, except Igon, but he’s
too closely related and still has time to redeem. Arantzazu’s sisters got off with
half a dowry somehow, but she has no funds allocated for her and now has to
marry within the family too. A perfect match for you, financially speaking.” he
said dismissively. “And now to address the joke, what adoption? Are you dating
runaways? Heriotza wouldn’t give his name to an ungrateful prick, I hope
you’re smart enough to realise that, because if not I’m afraid we have worse
problems…”
“I’m just warning you. If I get those papers, you’d have nothing against
it?” she asked curiously.
“I told you, as long as it doesn’t cost Heriotza money or respect, he’d let
you marry a fish for all he cares. And no, I’d also like an adoption request, for
which you have the form here.” he told her as he opened a drawer and searched
for it. After handing it to her, he said with a smile of discomfort.
 “Now get the fuck out and miss me with your bullshit.” he ordered, and
then changed his tone to a friendly one as he told his goodbies, “’Tis hast been
mine own pleasure t’unravel the confusions o’ thy mind. Best regards!”
“I am purified o’ uncertainty, in major part by virtue o’ thy efforts, fo’
which I am grateful. Best regards!” she saluted before bowing and leaving the
room, not having stepped deeper inside the room than the minimum required to
leave the doorframe.
“Yay! Victory!” she celebrated by dancing a little in front of the closed
door. “Oh, Agure is so nice, he just wants to seem tough ‘cause it gets him
better negotiation deals, he’s still the same since before he got promoted five
years ago. This is his last year before retiring, I’ll miss him so much! He’s been
so supportive underneath that cold attitude, I don’t think I would’ve gotten
away with this without him! Yay!”
She left the tower and trying to decide what to do next, she checked the
time. With only half an hour left before her scheduled training session at the
gym, she decided to talk with Aidan.
“Just take it easy, you don’t want to get him too scared or alarmed, even
though I doubt he’s going to refuse if I propose an adoption right now.” She told
herself while the PTV was calling.
Aidan was at work, boringly stamping some papers. With Sam gone,
there was no-one to spice up things in a short coffee break. Daydreaming in
front of his desk with semi-automatic movements doing his job, he thinking of
going to Gathering and forget about himself for a while. And then the PTV
rang. Tired, not wanting to hear his boss’ instructions, he picked it up, secretly
wishing it to be Sam instead.
“Hey!” a feminine voice greeted him.
Fireworks launched inside his veins with a rush of adrenaline. His mind
and body invigorated all of a sudden, as if someone splashed him with a bucket
of freezing water while sleeping.
“Hey!” he replied a little nervously, needing to loosen up the stiffness of
his voice.
“So, do you want to meet today?” she asked calmly, as if nothing
happened the previous night.
 Aidan’s mind was running wild with excitement and panic. He was
grateful, like a slave released from its master without forenotice, and alike to the
slave, perplexed as to why such a gift was bestowed upon him.
“Doomsland! Holy birdsnakes! Firstly, and foremostly, what the fuck?!”
he thought before answering the question with his frozen lips, like a soldier
failing to shoot down the enemy due to his finger not responding to the
command of pulling the trigger.
“Yes.” He told her, mustering enough willpower to force the response out
of him.
“Great! When? Where?” she eagerly continued, the excitement baffling
him even more. He had no time to think of that right now.
“Let’s see, her place would be much better from all points of view, but I
should have met with Unnquk by yesterday to make sure they’ll be there…” he
told himself and decided the next course of action.
“You remember the protests? I told you I camouflaged myself in the
crowd and I actually wanted to do this today… So, would you like to come with
me?” he asked trying his best to hide his timidity and anxiety cause by the
thought of things going in a bad direction. He never got this far; no ship ever
survived the tumultuous sea of his material conditions. He was in uncharted
territory with no map and only a general direction. To sunrise.
“And before you ask, I have camouflage for you too if you don’t have
informal black clothes.”
“In that case I’ll take your offer. When are you going?”
“As soon as I finish working.” he confessed, revealing more about
himself. “So around four in the afternoon.”
“Alright, see you at your place!” she replied, and afterwards instantly
hang up.
Aidan was left in the air, without any possibility of contesting the place of
meeting. In vain were his attempts to contact her, for she would just hang up
and not even look at his texts. He was a bit embarrassed that he let himself be
forced into a meeting on her terms, but this feeling was minuscule compared to
his joy and elation. He was exhilarated to the point of wanting to scream and
dance, sing along to his favourite songs, bur he had to confine himself due to
the nature his location.
 “Aidan!” a familiar voice called from behind him, coming from a figure
dressed in a short yellow tunic and bare arms.
“Mr. Oldhouse!” he saluted his boss. “For how long has he been standing
there?” he asked himself.
“I can see you are enjoying yourself. I can’t denounce you that right, but
beware that I can only take so much. You already get double pay for 16 hours of
work, while you only work 8. Besides this you still have breaks, so I honestly
believe it is best for both of us if you work when it comes down to working,
don’t you?” he criticised Aidan, breathing heavily down on him while his face
turned red with anger and disappointment.
“Alright mister Oldhouse, I’ll get back to work.” he replied flatly,
burying his face in the papers, while he had plenty of comebacks to throw at
him, but held them back.
“Oh, so you get to walk around in a fancy uniform telling us what to do
‘cause you’ll inherit it from your dad once, sure, seems fair to me! As fair as
getting paid more than I do for only 4 hours of work, that is… I hope you had
fun with whatshername and your wife finds out, if she doesn’t already! Ugh…
he can be so annoying at times.”
In spite of this, his frustration didn’t last, replaced by a smooth swing of
good mood. Now that he wasn’t talking with her over the PTV his fears and
anxiety diminished, a fondling of joy and hope comforting him, relaxing him.
He resumed his work, refusing to think of ways the date could go wrong and
instead getting himself drunk on positivity, pretending nothing can go wrong.
In the yard, Ira decided to change into training equipment and then
jovially walked around the towers to kill off the remaining five minutes before
Zuzen would finish his session.
The time had come, but the trainer was nowhere to be seen, so she
decided to wait inside.
“How’s it going with the man? You don’t like the way his eyebrows
interact with each other, or did you find some other excuse to dump him?
Maybe he found out you can’t bring any money on the table?” Zuzen asked
arrogantly with an acid tone, seeing her enter the gym.
Troubled by his presence in the room, she exasperatedly asked,
“Fist explain, why are you still here? It’s my turn and Ben, my instructor,
will arrive any moment now! Go!”
 “You see, it was just a mistake, I didn’t look at the clock, I was too busy
doing these push-ups.” he explained, giving a reliable and well-founded motive.
“But unlike some of us, I don’t need somebody to tell me what exercises to do. I
educate myself and build my own body, because some of us are meant to lead,
not only take orders.” he continued finishing his push-ups and resting a second,
putting his muscular body on display.
“Of course, he has to twist everything he says to criticise me… Typical.”
she thought to herself, not affected by his sarcasm. It was more of a thorn in the
side of her mind, something she got used to and didn’t mind anymore after a
few years. She only really cared when it endangered other people’s view of her,
like last night at the diner.
“Yeah, you’re right, we need strong smart leaders. Such a shame our
generation has none, we’re still waiting for a hero to rise!” she replied trying to
deflect some of his self-praise against him.
“Don’t get off topic, how are things going with the man? Does he know?
How long will you hide it this time?” he commented as he packed his water and
prepared to leave the room.
“It’s very kind of you to ask, but I can take care of this myself. Don’t
worry about me.”
“Me?” he asked faking a shock. “I don’t worry, I am merely looking after
you and him, best intentions in mind.” he said, deepening his voice at the end.
“Just saying… Have a nice day, fresh auntie!” he added as he saw a figure enter
the room. As the instructor entered, he left with a smirk growing on his face.
“All matters art good now, miss Freedomfigher? Ready fo’ a new day?”
he asked politely.
“They art excellent, Ben. Let us commenceth the workout session and
followeth the agenda.” she responded, heading towards a treadmill.
After finishing in about two hours, she was tired and decided to head
back to her room. On her way she met with Neka and asked him to bring some
Nan Hayese tea to her. This time she took the elevator to her floor and jumped
back on her bed with the book she left on the coffee table in her hand. Soon
enough she heard a knock on the door and welcomed Neka in, bringing a cup of
warm green tea. After thanking him she continued drinking and reading,
smoking some more Khala too, but not for too long. It was about time to leave
for Aidan’s place.
 “Right, let’s get in the car. By the time I reach there, I think he will have
arrived.” she thought and in about an hour and a half she was parking in front of
the apartment. Leaving the car, she looked for a doorbell or even a microphone,
but found nothing. Seeing this, she took action and called him on the PTV.
“Hey! I’m here, can you open the door?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah, I’m home, I just arrived. The door is open at all times, have
you tried opening it?” he said and true to his word, the door was indeed open.
She laughed embarrassed by her mistake.
“Ha-ha, yes, it is; silly me, heh! What floor do you live on?”
“Second. I’ll be waiting in front of it, don’t worry.” he reassured her.
She climbed the cold bare stairs, unused to not having some kind of
carpet underneath her feet and passed by the blank hallway’s weird holes
situated at regular intervals in the walls.
“Are these… Doors?” she asked herself, trying her best to recall why she
was not totally surprised by their presence even if she had never been in a Tunic
residential block. “Aaaa… When grandpa overdosed, he told us how life in the
Centres is once when he came back from work. Interesting…”
In a few moments she met with Aidan, who asked if everything was
alright. She realised her face must have seemed bewildered or even
uncomfortable. With this in mind she did her best to erase it and look normal.
Him on the other hand failed to hide the shameful humiliation behind his eyes
and forced smile, yet she didn’t notice.
“Wow! Let me check out this place!” she cried out as she jumped in the
hallway, quick to inspect as many things around her, turning her head in all
directions.
“What?! I mean sure, I don’t have anything against it…” he replied
stupefied by her behaviour.
“Is this the whole thing? I see one, two, three rooms!” she inquired as she
raced across the room from door to door to see. Before she could receive an
answer, she answered her own question. “Yes, it is… There is the kitchen and
there in the bathroom” she said pointing the two doors on the lateral sides on the
room. “And I suppose this must be your bedroom! It’s weird being the first
thing somebody see when people enter…”
 “Uh… People don’t enter.” Aidan replied surprised, hit like a cliff by a
stormy wave at the sight of her unduly inquisitive behaviour. His shock was so
evident that Ira noticed it this time, who in turn turned to apologising.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, I didn’t mean to be rude, I
was just curious!”
“Well, I don’t mind your curiosity, it surely comes out of nowhere, but it
is more than welcome to stay, I didn’t mean to stop you. I meant that I don’t
have living folks coming over.” he cleared the situation, adding to himself, “I
can barely remember the last time Jenny came here with Sam to check on me
when I finished furnishing this place.”
“Why is it so small? What can you even do in such a tiny box? A library,
a gameroom, nothing? I see you have a fridge, stove, and all kinds of machines.
You also have a couch and a TV, so you could afford it, I suppose.” She asked
looking for means of entertainment all around the apartment.
“It’s actually pretty large.” Aidan explained as he sat on the edge of the
bed, ready to be interrogated. “In fact, these are three apartments like those with
holes in the walls, and I made them one. Each room used to be its own thing. It
costed me enough anyway, on top of that I have little space as you see, so
besides the TV I go out in town to read or play.”
Redirecting her attention towards the ceiling and it’s glowing LED tube,
she found something new to ask,
“You really have no windows? Without them you keep this light always
on? And how do you breathe in here without windows? That painting of the city
above your head won’t save you from carbon monoxide poisoning!”
“The ones with windows were too expensive for my budget considering I
needed three of them. I had to pay three different Households to buy these
places, and one of them even relocated their Tunics. I swear these ‘apartments’
are better called ‘work refuges. As for the ventilation, I just open the door.
Tunics live here, if they wanted to enter a door is not gonna stop them.”
“I guess you’re right.” She admitted, throwing herself of the bed next to
Aidan and expressing her negative views of it. “Seagles, how do you sleep on
this? It’s so tough and uncomfortable, I hate this bed!”
“Well, I’m not that bad off, I just have to save some money to buy stuff.
This mattress got old, so I was going to change it later this week. Same goes for
the toaster in the kitchen. For almost a month it’s been broken, but I save
enough to replace it anytime now.”
 “I can’t imagine what it would be like to not afford even that. No offense,
but even this place seems barbaric! How do you get money to afford it?” she
asked, and wanting to get to him better, she continued with another honest
question disguised as a joke, whispering to him, “Or can you even tell me? if
you know what I mean…”
“Ha-ha!” he replied slightly amused. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing like that.
Actually, you’ve had the best reaction by far. Usually girls just quietly say they
have something better to do and then leave, if they bother to come. I’ll tell you
all about work, but we have to get going. In that closet I have another tunic just
like this one, black and grey, so you’ll blend in the mob too.”
“In that case, we’ll be wearing matching clothes, how funny!” she
exclaimed amused as her eyes followed Aidan who took a tunic out of the
wardrobe.
“You know how to put one on? Have you ever worn something like
this?” he asked holding the tunic high.
“Honestly, yes, but never unironically; only as a joke.” She replied and
began to strip down on the bed right there.
Aidan handed her the tunic with his eyes closed and before he could leave
the room Ira interrupted him with another question,
“Really? After what we’ve done after the episode last night, you still act
like this?” she asked with some disappointment in her voice but also playfulness
to some degree.
“Alright then.” he replied opening his eyes and turning his head to look at
her.
“Hey! That doesn’t mean you have permission to watch!” she cried out
with faked indignancy just like she faked her disappointment.
“Alright then!” Aidan repeated himself, winking before leaving the room.
“I can see that he really wouldn’t have let me in if I hadn’t hung up. He’d
have to be pretty foolish if he didn’t realise that I do have casual black clothes, I
think he understood my intention. I also managed to break the ice pretty well by
letting my curiosity run free.” She told herself while dressing.
“And this place sucks, how can people even live like this? Always using
public entertainment, living so blankly. The furniture, the colour palette,
everything seems like it was popular ten years ago… Horrible conditions, poor
Aidan! It also seems nobody is interested in being friends or dating such a…
weirdo. He was so eager to answer my questions, I guess nobody cares that
much for him… But he seems lovely, pretty humble and is not capricious like
those snobs. And the way he reacted to Zuzen and how he doesn’t press on
matters when I am uncomfortable… Maybe it’s all just to get me and escape
this Doomsland. I’d do that if I were him!”
After she got dressed, the two talked more, Aidan explaining to her his
work history like a verbal CV, telling her about his time as a chef at Exelor’s
and how his connections landed him a job at the office. He detailed her more
about life at work and living with such a responsibility, being independent and
sustaining himself. They stayed on the subject on the way to Centre 1 and Aidan
asked to be left at a curve before the protester’s camp so they would not be seen
as he instructed her in Lavonian how to behave.
“So anyway, that’s why I actually wear a tunic most of the time. I don’t
want to constantly stand out, in short.” Aidan continued the conversation they
were having.
“Wow! Your life seems so much more interesting and palpitating! I mean
don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t switch places with you in ten thousand years,
but it’s more unstable and unpredictable, more interesting. Eventful and actually
dangerous, you don’t have any safety net. I have my own share of problems, but
it’s nothing compared to having to live how you do.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s not all bad, but you are not foolish enough to want to
be in my shoes. I like that. Now, we have to get down.” Aidan said, and then
showed courtesy to the driver, “Thanket tee!” and Ira followed, “Alike from
mine own self!” and got down.
Left on the road, Aidan explained to her a few basic things and decided to
reveal. Ira looked into Aidan’s eyes and nodded to his explanations,
“Alright, so the fewer people realise we are Lavonian, the better. We can
still speak, but it’s better to fake an accent and keep it minimal. Most of them
might not mind, but if some of them have more radical views he could use one
less beating than necessary.”
“I understand, you don’t have to lecture me about that! And where more
exactly are we heading to? Just randomly walking or are we going to the
Pyramid?”
“Um… Actually, I have an address I have to visit before going to the
Pyramid. Let me show you a picture I took yesterday morning.” He told her and
pulled his PTV out of the pocket. He showed her the picture he had of Unnquk
and related truthfully to her everything he had done, from meeting him in the
ditch to taking him home.
“So afterwards,” he continued, “he showed me some footage of a poor
village, and they were speaking his language and then he showed me another
one with Lavonians in a frozen wasteland and kept telling me those were the
Icetowers. He even had a conversation on his radio while I was out of the room
in that language. Before he left with the taxi, he told me the address where I will
find them. I want to clarify what the Doomsland is going on with them, I have
no idea.”
“That’s very weird! It was nice of you to listen to him and take care, but
you really risked much and I wouldn’t have done it.” She confessed. “Normally
I’d say he is just lost, Yukaitamine can induce vivid hallucinations and on
occasions it was been documented that users immerse themselves in the illusion
to such a degree.” She explained, and followed with, “What makes me curious
is that he really looks like a Miqhun. He’s well-build, short, has a darker skin
and is a lot hairier. And his name is indeed Miqhun too. That is really off, I’ve
only seen pictures of such a man.”
“Are you sure he’s not from some part of Rhovna? That Empire is damn
large, maybe he just came from an obscure zone…” he proposed, trying to think
of other more plausible possibilities.
“I am sure he’s Miqhun, right today I was reading about their Cyclic
Myth. It’s funny, their myth is related to ours, even though linguistically and
ethnically we have nothing to do with them. The Hakdan are closer to us in both
those aspects, yet they lost their myth and borrowed the one of Muhtenesh. The
Miqhun one is exactly the opposite of ours. Instead of the Birdsnake dying,
which, by the way, is actually a fish-man hybrid, the Seagle dies shot with a
harpoon by a man, and the Birdsnake kills the man, takes the man’s brain to the
dead body and then cries over it and the brain regenerates, swallowing them
both in a new man going on a hunt.” she related.
“Just switch the brain with a heart and the roles of those two and you get
our myth. Incredible! We should get going though. I’ll lead the way.” Aidan
said, amazed by her knowledge on the matter.
“Yeah, it’s because for them, as a fishing-based economy it is disastrous
for an Artefact to sink at the bottom of the sea. So, Tunics usually stay at the
shore and take care of the houses while breathing folk are off at sea.” She
explained further just to drop more knowledge on Aidan as she followed him by
his side, making sure to not let him too much ahead.
 Making their way through the blob of protester, they tried for the moment
their best to avoid the more vocal groups and blend with the ones taking a break
from shouting and parading with signs.
Although repulsed by the smell of faeces, she was even more disgusted
by the detesting conditions these people were staying in. It was one to see it on
the TV, but somehow entirely different in person. So many people eating to
satiate their hunger, enduring such condition for the chance of voicing
something they believed in, something they wanted so bad they were willing to
martyrize themselves like this for it. It was something she appreciated, the spark
of determination in their desperate, almost apathetic gazes, because… she didn’t
have that.
Arriving at the intersection of 3rd and 10th streets, Aidan looked around to
see people dressed the way Unnquk had been. He didn’t see anyone. He started
asking around the few passerbies,
“Uere vist Unnquk?”, stretching his knowledge on the Hakdan language
to its extremes, but he was soon eclipsed by Ira’s not impressive, but much
better communication skills, often clarifying the question to people who didn’t
quite get Aidan.
“I am sorry sir, he’s a little crazy, but I couldn’t leave him behind when
we came here! We are looking for a person called Unnquk. Have you seen
him?” she said, but receive negative replies all the time.
That was, until Aidan asked a man sitting on the edge of the walkway
with his feet on the road, to which he raised his head and grabbed Aidan’s hand,
spearing through him with an iron glance. It was Unnquk.
“Nowhere. Friends art nowhere. I did not findeth them. We agreeth here,
they art not here. They were taken, people telleth me! Police, tooketh five men
for breaking dze law! They will taketh me if I speaketh out, I can see it! They
will! They will!” he said with a morbid desperation shaking between his
unwashed teeth.
“Uuuh… Ira, I found him!” he tried to whisper and she followed his hand
indications.
“I brought friends.” Aidan told him. “We’ll help you. Everything will be
alright. Have you tried to contact them with the radio?”
“I tried. They not respondeth! Nothing! Dze police took them!” he cried,
tears falling down on his cheek as he sobbed.
 “Then we’ll go to the police and ask to see the freshly detained, and
you’ll get to see them and clarify any misunderstandings.” Aidan proposed.
“En geteth them ta arrest me, kalliku-hun? Ta throweth me in their claws?
Nay! Nay!” he refused stubbornly. You though, you two could!”
Unnquk looked up at Ira and simply asked,
“Wife?”
“No, she’s my girlfriend only.” Aidan replied. “Get to know each other.”
The two had an awkward moment when Ira tried to bow before him and
then the man reached for her hand afterwards, forcefully shaking vertically her
hand between his two palms.
“I am Unnquk, of Hillaquk clan.” he presented himself.
“Ue… Ira, Freedomfighter-quk.” she introduced herself, trying her best to
remember the five words of Miqhun she absorbed accidentally while reading
over the years.
“Ikuat! Ha lalulki Miqhunqa?!” (*Ikuat! you speak miqhun-tongue?) he
asked surprised, letting a hopeful mouth drop open.
“No, that’s almost all I know. Sorry… Glad to meet you!” she
apologised. “Yes, I think we can go to the police for you.”
The mouth closed and a realisation tore Unnquk in two halves, between
anger and confusion.
“Wait… Freedomfighter thou sayeth?” he said as he narrowed his eyes
and he turned his attention to Aidan.
“Thou did not believeth me! Thou brought the beast! You don’t wanteth
ta helpeth me, yee art ambushing! Traitor!” and he pushed Ira violently and got
her falling on the road as he directed a punch to Aidan’s face. He tried his best
to avoid the punch and got hit in the shoulder instead, as he begged Unnquk to
stop and tried to explain.
“Ouch! Ffffsst… What beast? Friend, I don’t know what you’re talking
about! Calm down!” he yelled and a few people around jumped to help Aidan,
who avoided another punch to the face with his arms, and among
undecipherable curses he explained his accusations.
“Dze beast! Dze Freedomfighter! One of them behind this! You are part
of this!”
 The others immobilised him and Aidan got to recover from the hits. He
quickly made sure they didn’t call the police in Lavonian and tried again to
reason with Unnquk.
“Unnquk, look at me? Why would I bring the beast and then reveal it to
you? Why would I come, I could just arrest you! In fact, guys, leave him, let
him go!” and the other conformed, but stayed near to see if the situation
escalated. “See? I could call the police, but I just want to help you.” he
explained exasperated, searching with his eyes for Ira. She apparently hit her
head and someone helped her get up. Aidan quickly left his position and went
there to help her himself.
“Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital?” he asked,
inspecting her head. It was not bleeding, but she bruised her arms.
“No, I’ll take some pills…” she responded, reaching for her pocket where
she took a pill and swallowed it. “What the fuck?! What’s wrong with the guy?!
The bastard has to pay, he’s just a madman! Let’s leave!”
In the meantime, Unnquk cooled his temper and stood in place thinking
about what Aidan told him.
“I am so sorry, forgiveth me! You art not beasts, you two… I seeth
now… You doth not knoweth, doth yee?” he asked as the crowd around him
thinned out.
“There’s nothing to know about you! I don’t know what you are, what
language you speak, or why, but you’re batshit insane! I don’t want your
bullshit anymore! Bye, and be glad that I leave you like this. I forgive you, but I
won’t help you. I will call the police if you follow or try to contact me again!”
Aidan yelled as he helped Ira step away and head home.
Realising he just lost the ally he had, Unnquk turned desperate. Dragging
his bandaged foot along, he followed them and pleaded, begged Aidan to take
his PTV and he would leave him alone. Aidan ripped it out of his grip and put it
in his pocket. Unnquk collapsed to the ground on his knees, crying and
swearing into the asphalt, “Nalaki! Nalaki! Hen ue lauqat? Nalaki!” (*All is
lost! All is lost! What have I done?! All is lost!), pulling his hair in the process.
Soon afterwards, Aidan had to let go of Ira as she insisted that she was
feeling good enough to walk unassisted.
“What was that? What happened with that guy?” she asked him.
 “I don’t know.” he responded, not even hiding his language anymore. It
was clear that the Hakdan were more civilised and empathetic with them. They
saw a living human hurt dressed in a Tunic, speaking perfect dialectal Lavonian
and nobody hesitated to help them. The man he helped, in turn, attacked him,
left him bruises and assaulted his girlfriend. He had had enough of him. “You
were right, he turned out to be dangerous. Sam was right too. I guess this is
what happens when you try to help somebody in need, heh? Scumbags!” he
continued and spit on the ground afterwards.
“I agree, you were better off letting him die in the ditch, but don’t fall in
the other extreme.” she advised him. “The guys that immobilised him were also
helping a total stranger and risked getting hurt.”
“I guess you’re right… I’m not asking you to forgive him. I won’t sue
him, but you can do whatever. And also, let’s talk about something else.” Aidan
proposed, realising he was just angry and he will return to his merry, sarcastic
and helpful self in a few hours or a day.
“I’ll see, I’m not sure how uncle Neka would react.” she replied, keeping
a few insults addressed at Unnquk for herself.
They had to walk all the way to District 2, like Aidan had two nights
before. Using this long walk as an opportunity, Ira told herself that it would be a
great moment to drop what she hoped would be great news on Aidan.
“Right, with so much time at our disposal, I might do that. I think he’s
really as he seems and not faking it. I don’t see anyone standing up to a brute
like that savage, or trying so hard to help him. I can’t imagine Zuzen not
throwing a tantrum or not suing that piece of shit. Seagles, I myself want to
make him pay so bad, but who knows, maybe Neka will just dismiss this. Or
overreact. And if he can forgive, maybe it’s better if I do too. But either way, he
forgave the madman, and would have been willing to help him still, despite
what he’d endured, and drew a line only when he saw me hurt, I remember that
clearly…” she told herself, convinced beyond the shadow of the doubt, “The
way he behaves, putting everyone else before himself, I haven’t seen anything
like this! He can’t be playing me. This is him. Wow… This might be
interesting, not only convenient! Jackpot!”
It was time to voice her thoughts and bring Aidan up to speed, this is
exactly what she did next, proposing him to get adopted into the family.
Aidan was speechless, entering a deep shock. A stormy sea of
astonishment was unleashing its force on his inside as his heart was beating
faster and faster on the rhythm of strobing lights. A timid smile morphed from
the open mouth below his ice glassy eye around the enlarged pupils. Behind
those pupils, behind the eyes, within the skull, a cloth of thoughts buzzing was
being woven into a semi-coherent pattern.
“So, how? How did I end up here? Why now? Why her? I don’t get it! It
makes no fucking sense! No, something is wrong with her, there must be a
reason behind this, maybe she’s joking, this is too good to be true… Who am I
fooling?! I can see in her eyes she’s not; I felt the honesty in her voice! No
Aidan, no, what are you doing? You’re wasting your chance, ask questions
later, it is time to accept, you can see her eagerness fade, act now!” he thought
before whispering behind a tear a simple “Yes!”
As she jumped at his neck and hugged him, adding a kiss on the cheek, he
caught her between his arms too like a child hugs a Teddy Bear before going to
sleep, with the exception of instead of pure joy, his face expressed a mix of
feelings. While his eyes betrayed his inner heavenly paradisiac state of being,
his forehead was frowning with bewilderment, trying to piece out why was he
being given this chance; what was wrong with her? Why did this happen now?
He had barely met her, with almost none of the month of dating and courting
that is expected before deciding if a relationship should continue, as was
tradition. Why? This was the word hanging off his tongue, the word in the
muscle memory of his lips. “Why?”
Releasing the hugs, the two continued their way, Ira amused by Aidan’s
still shocked, almost worried face. For both of them, the incident with Unnquk
seemed to have occurred months ago, far behind them, a fading fresh memory.
“Cheer up!” she encouraged him with a worry-free attitude and a bold
soft tone in her voice, “We can start the paperwork tonight if you come over.
It’s a day to remember! A big change for sure, but a welcome one!”
“Why?” he asked, pulling the trigger, aiming straight at her.
“Because I like you! You were such a good person to the man, you’re
interesting and funny, so I thought that you shouldn’t have to endure what you
are going through.”
“No, you’re lying, I’m not buying it.” he told her as the bullet hit its
target and her smile faded. “That’s not the face of a pitiful person. I haven’t
ever seen you pitiful to my face today, yet your words are based on that. There’s
more to it, I can see it, your face isn’t as bright as it was five seconds ago.”
“Wow, detective! Good work… Um…” she didn’t know how to
continue, but he was he was not having it. She could not escape this time, and
decided to just tell him the whole story, of how she didn’t want to follow the
normal lifestyle that was planned for her. She didn’t want to be a mother, not
yet at least, so she refused to get married at 25 as she was planned. In return, she
was lucky to only lose her dowry and not be kicked out. Now she was planned
to marry her cousin Arantzazu, another girl that was deemed unnecessary
spending to pay a dowry for, because of having only sisters and no brothers to
compensate. She had time to do it by the time she turned 30, or with the help of
the manager on her branch, she could evade this fate too if she found somebody
whose Househead was willing not to receive a dowry, or let a son be adopted
and lose an heir.
“Are you happy now that you know this?” she asked arrogantly.
“Actually yes.” he replied, the satisfaction and peace emanating from his
response calming her anger and frustration to some degree. “A true Lavonian
rich person would never say something so shameful, something that degraded
them like this story does. She’s not that prideful, that much of a snob. She
spared no details, something unthinkable, and admitted to her true desires…
Maybe she is different. In fact, with ambitions to live life to the fullest and this
self-determination instinct, she is different. Incredible!” the last interjection
echoing out loud.
“What’s so incredible?” she asked slightly less frustrated.
“You.” he answered precisely. “You’re awesome. I’ll sign the papers; I’m
coming tonight with you!”
Ira’s face returned to its past brightness and her spirits jumped sky-high.
She took a break when she felt her leg was beginning to tremble and took a few
puffs of Khala from the cigar in her pocket. For the rest of the way, both of
them left tensions behind, talking more about art, their passions and Aidan’s
life. He was having a harder time separating himself from the weights pulling
him down, but succeeding in the end and had fun for the rest of the day.
The night caught Aidan taken home by Ira. At this point, elation ruled
over him as he was dreaming with his eyes open. A cold awakening interrupted
it when he noticed the car had stopped and a policeman was knocking on Ira’s
window.
“Good night, ladies and gentlemen! Papers, please!” he asked them and
took their IDs. He further demanded to see the documentation of the car and
then got to the point, “Thee were driving with 12 km/h above the legal limit.
This falleth into category C infringement o’ the code and as such a speeding
fine shall be delivered t’thy address. I wisheth upon yee a good night and safe
passage. Bye!”
After the he left Ira grunted with annoyance and a splinter of doubt got
under Aidan’s skin.
“What if the judge will reject the adoption request? You told me there is
no way, but I can see you are still not above the law. Nobody is. If he decides
that the justification is not strong enough, he’ll decline it…”
She reassured him, pissed off that she had to repeat again, despite her
explanations,
“It’ll be fine, the judge will accept the adoption surely, nobody would
dare to reject something like that send from my branch manager Agure. We’ll
need approbation from Househead Heriotza before you can move in though, so
you’ll have to life here for a while until we can actually get married. You’re
welcome anytime at my place though!”
“Thank you so much! I can’t believe it, really!” he said, returning to the
dreamlike state.
“I can see that you have a hard time wrapping your head around that.” she
kept to herself, not wishing to insult him.
They shared a goodbye kiss before she dropped him off and drove to her
place. When she returned home, she was lucky enough both times not to run
into Neka and be asked about her bruises. A deep sleep shrouded Ira’s mind,
and in the meantime, Aidan had already been dreaming for a while, having left
the souvenir of Unnquk’s PTV on the kitchen table. His dreams repeated
random sequences from the day, reliving the thrills, the emotions, the good and
the bad, offering the chance to rediscover himself.

Chapter 8: Table talk

Aidan woke up refreshed and energized the following day. He kept a

content smile while he prepared and then commuted to work. He was thinking
of how lucky he had been in the past days, and how it started with the Gathering
he had attended. In fact, Sam had been the one who had suggested that he went
there. And he didn’t yet share the news with him, so that’s what he decided to
do while waiting for the bus to arrive at in the station.
 “Yeah, I almost forgot I won’t meet him at work for a while. Maybe ever,
depends how fast the adoption court appeal and her Househead accept.” He
thought to himself while waiting for Sam to pick up the call.
“Hi man, how are things a going? Are you going to work? You should,
it’s almost time.” Sam said as he picked up.
“Nothing much happened, I’m on my way. I was just calling to see how
things are around there before going there.” Aidan said on a calm casual voice,
hiding his enthusiasm successfully.
Interpreting the lack of events as another failure with the girl, Sam didn’t
press on and just told him more about himself,
“Well, it’s fine, we’re all here and soon the mourning will stop and we’ll
have fun remembering what Josh meant to us. It feels so good to actually spend
time with my kids and descendants, especially the living ones. I am helping the
little one with the math exercises, checking out what others have been doing,
regular stuff. I wish I could see them more than twice a month on a regular
basis, but somebody’s gotta work to keep the spa’s open and pools full, don’t
they?” he explained, relating more details about what they plan to do once they
raise Josh’s memorial statue, as it was customary.
“Good for you, really great. I’m glad to hear that.” He added as a general
reaction reply to his story, complementing the active listening words he threw
unconsciously, expressing his interest. “Again, sorry for Josh, and I’m sure he’s
passed the Doomsland and got to Elysion. Now, I have to tell you that I lied and
something else actually happened.”
“I knew it!” he replied ecstatically, like someone winning a risky bet, “Is
it something with the lady?”
“Yes, and it’s great news!” Aidan said and then summed up in a short
story what had happened yesterday.
“Damn, I never expected this. Not in a million years, Doomsland, no
offense, but I never really thought this could actually happen…” he confessed.
“I was just trying to be nice, but fuckin’ birdsnakes if it didn’t actually work! I
can believe it! Wow… Man, you’re so unpredictable sometimes!”
“Honestly, I can’t believe it either! Like, what will I do now? Do I tell
Jeff that in a few months I’ll quit? It’s…Unfathomable… A dream come true…
I can barely hold my composure right now, and I see some dudes already
looking at me like I’m a creep, like I’m a weirdo… But I don’t care!” he said
laughing with joy.
 “This… This calls for a celebration! Be ready to have at least visitor
tonight! That is, unless you have some other plans, eh?”
“Look, I really don’t want to take away from your moments with your
family, you don’t have t-” he got to say before being interrupted.
“Nay, nay, mate! I or we’ll be there by 9, I’ll try to get Jenny to come too.
So, ready or not, we’re coming. I need to know even more details, we’ll talk all
night, watch movies, you two can drink, you should even make an exception
and smoke a bit… But I’m getting ahead of myself, I think you should hurry for
work.”
“Actually yes, while you were telling me that I left the bus and I’m
heading for the office.” he replied.
“That explains the noises in the background… Anyway, see you there!”
“Ugh! Sure, see you later.” Aidan replied, ending the conversation and
entering the office building.
The time spend there felt surprisingly short and Aidan double checked to
make sure he left a little ahead of his colleagues as to avoid the crowded,
unwalkable for a living person, rush hour when most schedules ended and
people were returning to their apartments.
He took a bus to the library, the same he had visited to look up Ira’s
contact number. While at work he had received a notification, one he had been
waiting for since the begging of the week. He planned to read the newly
published edition of the Registry of Retirement. It was just a list of Tunics that
had taken the cruise ship to the Icetowers with a few more details, and he hoped
he could find more information about his Household. For privacy reasons, the
list was published only after 35 years after the journey took place. Him being
35, he expected that this year’s Registry would help him understand a few
things about why he ended up like this.
After checking in, he sat in front of an ACU and soon enough he found
himself in front of a list of names, ordered alphabetically by family name. He
looked for his own name and found it. As his eyes widened and glued
themselves to the screen, he gestured a victorious fist up in the air.
Before opening the document, he thought for a second if it would be
better to leave and go home. He could choose to just leave it behind. Soon
enough his life would be fixed, and he would not do anything but wilfully
making himself more miserable by clinging onto the past. Maybe it was better
to leave his questions unanswered and focus on the future.
 “I’m here already… And it would satiate my curiosity. Just this… I just
want to know what happened to them, why did they abandon me? Why they
never called me from the Icetowers? Just this one more thing… I just want to
know, then I’m not gonna try to reach them anymore and I’ll move on.” He
decided, “Sound like a plan to me!”
It was time to analyse the names that where there, a total of 17 entries. He
checked for their address at the time of their retirement, and sure enough they
were all from the same Household, in Suburb 3.
“27?! What?! That’s a lot, a whole damn lot! Why so many? What were
their ages?” he asked himself before proceeding to check. “Alright, so let’s
order by age… Cedric Farefax, Househead, 1053 years old, Deglan Farefax,
332 years old, Ciara 329 years old…” and he read the rest of the list.
“These are all relatively young, except Cedric. And it gets to incredibly
low ages towards the end. Like Eamon, dead by 27, and his wife, Bridget, by
25… Wait a second, my mother registered herself as Bridget Farefax at the
foster house! There may have been others, but she’s the only one who fits the
timeline.” he concluded. “How did those two die? Is there anything written at
observations? Let me see… Yes, both by assisted suicide in hospital… Wait, so
did his parents… And grandparents… Old age and overdose begins only with
generations above them. And look at that, the youngest is only 16! Dead by
fucking 16?! In assisted suicide too?!”
Aidan froze in place, unable to move the mouse or scroll further. He was
paralyzed, turned into a statue by the barbarity and inhumanity of the events he
read about before his eyes. Tears formed in his eyes and he shook himself out of
the stillness to hide them, as he was in public technically, and anyone could
come in the room.
“Why did Cedric allow this? A kid just doesn’t want to commit this! And
he himself…” he told himself and then entered a contemplating phase, and
searched for the previous register, detailing the retirements five years prior. And
then the one from 10 years prior. In the end, he looked for an older version of
the Registry of Residence, a 40-year-old version. Piecing the puzzle together,
the bigger picture arose too, as he researched the progression over the years.
“So back in 2154, there were 71 members. Reasonable enough, a small
family nonetheless, but still normal. That year 14 got to retire, all in their
1200’s-1100’s, including the Househead. Normal so far, a pretty heavy blow on
the population, but that can happen, and the newer generations are supposed to
correct that under a new Househead. Five years later, at the next Cleansing, out
of the remaining 57, 30 got to retire. That’s unusually high, most were between
1000 and 400 years… Let’s see the Residency Register…” and to Aidan’s
surprise, it was completely privatised, with the exception of the name of the
Househead, who was Cedric.
“Wait a second, this is getting fishy… Five years later, the members are
still classified and Househead is still Cedric, except he got himself retired, along
with everyone else… How does that even happen? During those five years how
many children were born? 57-30 it’s 27, exactly how many retired the year I
was born… So, none? How’s that possible? This makes no sense… And
afterwards, I see there are no Farefaxes left, no such family is listed in Suburb 3,
only some other dudes with the same name from Phine.”
It was time for Aidan to get the answer to what had happened to them.
“Cedric must have decided to retire everyone after all those workers in
their 1000’s-400’s went away. With so few working people, it is impossible to
maintain the luxurious lifestyle. He decided to end it all… Such a hard decision
to make, it must have been horrendous to go through that!” he figured out,
respecting and understanding his decision, as desperate times require desperate
measures.
“If they all decided that it would be best to end the family than to live in
poverty for nobody knows how many generations… I can respect that. I
wouldn’t have fuckin’ done it myself, ever, but I get it.” He thought, coming to
terms with what had happened, and trying to build on his hypothesis where he
came in the picture.
“My mother must have fallen pregnant despite knowing it was going to
end. And me being a baby, they couldn’t kill me, it’s illegal, and for good
reason… Imagine being stuck in the body of a baby for as long as your Artefact,
the body of your mother, doesn’t decompose… Horrid! This shit that I’m going
through is ten times better than that. Thanks, Bridget!” he thought, realising that
comparing to what could have been, he actually got it pretty good. And their
motive for abandoning him was surprisingly logical and made with good
intention.
“Kind people, good at heart… Unlike Jenny’s Househead and family;
poor her got abandoned for being a girl when it was scheduled for her parents to
have a boy and they already had had another girl. Selfish shits! At least she’s
better now. And soon enough, I’ll be better too…”
He stood in place for a moment. And then another one. And another one
again. Something was wrong, he wished to end his quest, but he couldn’t. There
was a major problem, a hole in his explanation. He tried to ignore it, but wasn’t
able not to doubt himself. And so, as he feared, the answers would just lead to
other questions.
“Why were 30 retired at the same time? Their age is wildly inconsistent,
usually it’s a set of up to 2 generations that get it, tops. Doomsland, it takes
several Cleansings to get rid of a single generation oftentimes! These were half
a millennium of people going off at the same time! That needs some
explanations, something is still fishy… And then again, why didn’t they contact
me?! My mom knew I existed, I have my information public, she could find
me!” and as such, the rising anger in Aidan’s veins turned into compassion,
“What if she knows that I exist, but can’t forgive herself? What if that’s
why all of them have been silent? They are supposed to life in paradise there, at
the Icetowers, in some even grander palace than they’ve ever had, but they are
still not at peace with themselves. Maybe Cedric is blaming himself for
everything… What if they had arguments over this and now are at odds with
each other? What if I’m not Eamon’s son? Why wouldn’t she report her
husband as my father?” he thought, worrying for people he had never met, for
whom he made up scenarios based on numbers and logic. “I could help…” he
told himself, entertaining an idea that he quickly dismissed, making a point not
to press on the matter anymore, building a wall between him and the idea.
Decisively, he shut down the ACU and wanting to stand up, he rubbed his
hand against his pocket unintentionally, and fell back on the chair, unable to
muster to force to deny his own curiosity anymore.
He took out the PTV, Unnquk’s PTV. He navigated through the alien-like
old display and user interface, to watch the videos it had. He made up his mind
and began watching everything there was to see on it.
Earlier that day, after preparing herself and putting on a long-sleeved
dress as to hide her bruises, Ira was again on her way to Agure’s office. She was
taking with her a bundle of documents this time. When she eventually entered
the office, the two greeted each other and she waited right next to the door for
him to take the papers from her.
“Why are you here? I received a notice from the police that now I have to
pay a fine from our budget because of your incompetence at the wheel.” He
explained, “I hope you will understand the reduction of your allocated funds for
gas in that car, given the circumstances.” Pausing a second at holding his hand
up, gesturing her to abstain from speaking. “And even though it’s none of my
business what you do in your spare time, may I ask what were you doing that
late in the night?”
Ira smiled on the inside, seeing Agure was just holding up the façade of
toughness again, and showed interest in her well-being.
“I was just driving my husband home.” She explained, smiling only with
her tone. Agure’s response to this was a mere chuckle.
“Alright,” he continued, “enough with the jokes. Why are you here? I can
see you have something to show me.” and then went to her and took the
documents.
After a few glances, he nodded his head with admiration and pleasant
surprise. He looked over all of them in silence and then resumed letting out a
simple ‘wow’.
“Impressive, huh? Told you…” she told him, showing confidence in her
defying attitude.
“What kind of deadbeat is this guy? Let me check his registry… Anima,
search ‘Farefax, Aidan, Centre 2’, in Register of Residency Database, would
you?” he asked, and the same soft voice that replied to Ira when she took a bath.
The screen on the opposite wall to the window switched on to exactly his
entry in a few seconds afterwards.
“I’m telling you, there’s nothing wrong with him. You’re wasting your
time, just tell Arantzazu to find someone else already.” she told him, but Agure
was reading out loud the information on the screen.
“Status alive… Age 35… Parentage Bridget Farefax and… Nobody?
Huh, bastard child, most likely.” he explained, “Work… He’s had two jobs and
he’s a Grey Tunic at his age, that’s some skills, best living clerk I’ve seen, not
that I’ve any before… Hm…” he sat in contemplation a few moments.
“I told you, nothing sketchy about this dude.” Ira broke the silence to
persuade him to her point of view.
“Well, congratulations miss! I see that you have everything for adoption
here, and I suppose that after he gets his new identity, you’ll bring the marriage
documents necessary. Just get me the doctor’s notice that he’s not sterile and we
can start the process.”
“Thank you very much!” she replied enthusiastically with a triumphant
voice as she bowed and excused herself, leaving the room.
 She decided to celebrate somehow and to spoil herself and her arms after
the heavy hits from yesterday by indulging in a spa session. She reasoned that
she had enough time to talk with Aidan after that, so she headed to a cousin’s
tower to see if she could join.
She left about two or three hours later, relaxed and refreshed. Her
massage had helped her, but it proved to be a detriment when she ran into Neka
while going back to her private apartment.
“Best o’ sunrises and sunsets t’thee, miss!” he saluted her.
“Peaceful times mayst descendeth upon thee!” she returned the greeting,
but was stopped from passing by him.
“I have heard from anonymous sources-” he began, but then was
interrupted by her cursing the name of the masseur.
“That damned masseur told you, didn’t he?” she asked.
With his facial expression letting her know it was him, he proceeded to
still deny her the knowledge. “Again, anonymous sources… I know that you are
hiding some marks on your skin, and frankly, I don’t believe that you slipped in
the bathroom.” he concluded his initial point. “Listen, I know you’re desperate
to find somebody other than miss Arantzazu, but that is no basis for accepting
and hiding such abusive behaviour.”
“No-no-no, he didn’t do anything like that, he’s pretty chill and passive
for the most part.”
“Except when he’s doing knife tricks, I suppose?” Neka tried to refute her
argument by pointing out a contrary example.
“Well, yes…” she admitted, unsurprised by him knowing that happened.
Afterall, the tower was full of surveillance cameras. “But he didn’t do it. I really
fell, some dude pushed me when I was in Centre 1 with Aidan yesterday. It’s no
big deal.” she tried to dismiss.
“Aha! Those Hakdan savages! They have undiluted blood, these
protesters, pure Hakdans, unlike the half-bloods in Cassan. They at least have
the decency of appreciating the better way of life we brought onto them!” Neka
started spilling out his chauvinist opinions like a broken dam.
“Woah! Calm down, I forgive him, it wasn’t that big of a deal and he was
a mad man anyway, dressing up as a Miqhun. Seagles know what nationality he
had!”
 “Pfu! Only a braindead Hakdan could do something like that! And what
do you mean by ‘forgive’? What he’s done is a highly illegal and unmoral act,
it’s intentional infliction of pain to the detriment of well-being, that’s a huge
fine or a week of isolation in a correction facility!”
“Hold your horses, Neka, you failed the lawyer exam for a reason…”
“I know what I’m talking about, young lady, and the Hakdan supervisor
was to blame for that too! That’s it, we’re suing the man!”
Ira thought a second and even though he was technically right about the
law, she still wanted to follow in Aidan’s forgiveness in spite of sharing a
disdain milder than Neka’s.
“No. I refuse to give you permission, and if you press on this again, I’ll
accuse you of wasting my time against my will. We’ll see how well Agure or
Heriotza take that.”
“My Ira, I was just making sure you’re alright… I will comply with thy
wishes, there’s no point in escalating the situation…” he began apologizing and
excusing his reaction. “I just want what’s best for you, y’know?”
“Yes, Neka… I understand. You can make it up to me by bringing some
tea to my room, please.”
“Of course, of course…” he repeated, heading towards the kitchen.
“He’s such a pain in the ass sometimes, but Neka will be Neka. He’s the
best butler-tower-manager around here. Such a shame he’ll retire at the next
Cleansing in about 3 months, but he deserves a break. Huh, 800 years of
working, and I can’t do a day!”
After she finished sipping her tea, she determined it was the opportune
moment to call Aidan.
“Hey, what’s up?” she started simply, yet determined.
“Not much…” he replied, concentrating on something else while talking
to her, and she picked up this.
“Are you still working? Will your boss fire you for this?” she asked with
joyous curiosity, akin to hearing unrealistic gossip one wished to be true.
“What?! No, that’s not how it works, I already told you, I thought you’d
remember…” he said disturbed by the carelessness she treated such a matter
with. “I’m free, at least you got that right. Um…” be resumed, taking a moment
to focus on something else again. “Yeah, in fact, I’m fine. How about you?”
 “Whatever, doesn’t really matter.” She dismissed the critique. “I could
say I’m fine too, but that’s not exactly productive conversation, so can you tell
me what’s keeping you so busy if you don’t work?”
“Um… Yeah, I can, I’m watching something at the library, I’ve been also
researching some stuff in the Register of Retirement…” he continued, still
distracted from the conversation.
“Alright, I’ll let you do your thing, just tell me when we meet today.” She
demanded. Aidan considered a question asking if they could meet would’ve
been more appropriate, but he let this aspect slide.
“Yeah, I’m busy tonight, a friend and co-worker, he goes by Sam if you
recall, will be coming over at my place.”
“And??” she asked, not seeing his point. “There’s plenty of time ‘til then.
And even so, would it be a problem if I joined? Or am I not invited?” she
inquired, giving away the signs of growing indignation.
Quick to calm the spirits down, Aidan clarified, “No, no, don’t worry,
you’re always welcome… I just didn’t expect something like that. My
celebrations are not exactly fancy either, but sort of lame, I don’t think you’ll be
having much fun. And we can meet whenever now, come at the library in
Centre 2 and I’ll be there.” he explained.
“Awesome!” she cried out with child-like excitement. “See you!” and
then hung up.
Unaccustomed to such interruptions, Aidan found her calling a little
annoying, but he thought he might just be too sensitive and moved on. After
texting Sam to let him know of the new surprise guest they were having that
night, he kept on watching a video on Unnquk’s PTV.
He had been watching the video containing the interviews and tour of the
village. He was surprised by the unprofessionalism of the production. Shaky
camera, bad angles, horrendous lighting. He couldn’t make sense of any of the
dialogue to realise if it was scripted or not, but so far Sam’s explanation didn’t
hold up. And if it were a recording of behind the stage, where were the cameras
and the crew? It couldn’t all be actors and background characters… Could it?
He took a closer look when all of a sudden, the camera zoomed in near
the line of the horizon and he could see the shape of what looked like a fleet of
ships. He cameraman dropped the camera and he could see his face when the
entered the frame pick it up.
 “That white moustache and round face… I can’t be Unnquk, not a
chance… What the Doomsland is this? This is not his PTV, and this is not a
movie. Nor is it a historical movie, at least one of them… Am I right?” he told
himself and squinting his eyes to look closer, he discovered he was right indeed.
“Yes, that one is a cruise ship, for sure. What kind of cruise would sail around
such a shithole? Not a Lavonian one, maybe one from the Free Cities.”
Still not satisfied, he continued his research and finishing this one without
any other observations, he looked at another video. He found in the gallery one
Unnquk hadn’t shown him. It was silent and half of the camera was covered by
some cloth.
“It’s shot at waist level too, like it was filmed while hidden in the pocket.
It just shows him going around some docks in a city’s harbour, pretty normal.
Those guys though, they… Are they?” he asked himself in disbelief, “Yes,
those are soldiers in Lavonian winter uniform. From who are they defending
this place? Is this some kind of military base? How did they end up there? This
makes no sense…” Aidan thought, but noticing a detail he observed more
inconsistencies disproving his assumptions.
“That’s… That is a cruise ship they are keeping there. Why would a
cruise ship harbour there? One thing is for pretty much sure, this is not a movie.
Sam was wrong about that. What messed up shit is going through Unnquk’s
head?” he thought, resting his forehead in his free palm.
He checked out the rest of the video, but it was mostly just windy noise
and a black screen, as the PTV slipped back into the pocket and the bearer
didn’t readjust it.
Next, he calculated the remaining time he had left and constated that he
would have to skip forwards the next and last video, to approximately the where
Unnquk had left that morning.
The cameraman stood up and recorded the crowd barely containing itself
from reaching him and tearing him apart. Aidan could here more screams and
cries of help fuelled by desperation. He was served with a wide panoramic shot
presenting the mob of a few thousands and then followed a stream of moving
people. It was a snake of people departing the ship and digging into the crowd,
going in two columns adjacent to each other. Aidan had plenty of time to
wonder why were they leaving in such an arranged manner, why were they
getting of in such a frozen wasteland, because the row just kept going and
going, not stopping one second until about five thousand people had landed.
 Now, as the last rows left for this place, the cameraman made heavy steps
towards the ramp, wishing to get back up on the ship. As he did so, he discreetly
told them a few encouraging words before embarking,
“Not loseth hope! We cometh soon, we showeth and cometh back!
Stayeth strong, yee willst be saveth! Not worry!”
He moved to the edge of the deck, looking from high up at the crowd
forming. Even so, he could not catch them all in one frame. There were about
20000 now, an island of colour on a white icy background in the middle of a
literal sea of wavy sapphire. He had to stabilize the frame when the ship started
moving all of a sudden backwards. It went only a few meters backwards as to
distance itself from the shore and put some distance between them and the
angry crowd.
Now he was recording a crane operating to leave some containers from
the deck on the ice, and the people ran towards each, using brute force to break
in without much success. Eventually the metallic prisons would break lose, but
the man didn’t stay to record it, and stopped the recording once all 10 containers
had been left and the ship left for good the land.
Aidan had to readjust the volume of the film when it became obvious the
ship was leaving. This was because once the mob also understood what was
happening, they screamed together as one like the final roar of a mortally
wounded lion, a final defiant sign of rebellion fading into nothingness and
defeat, but still a statement nonetheless. The cameraman put the PTV down and
covered his ears when that happened, the cry of agony dominating over the
wind, the engine of the ship and the waves breaking violently over the cold
lifeless steel.
He was shocked and terrified. This was unexplainable. What was with all
those people? What’s up with the land? None of it made sense to him. He
wanted to see the full recording, from the beginning this time. At first, the
image was very different. All over the deck there were tens of groups of a few
individuals, talking between themselves quietly or sitting silently. Some of them
were looking at the vastness of the open sea, and only a few were walking
haphazardly across the deck, and if they passed by him, they exchanged him
sharp, hateful, yet somehow tolerant, like a rabid dog on the point of letting
itself loose at the master. It was a spiteful forgiving glance, the one often
followed with phrases like ‘I may forgive, but never forget.’
To beat the nail in the coffin and add the straw to break the camel of
Aidan’s psyche, a familiar figure entered the frame from seemingly nowhere
and began casually chatting with the cameraman in their weird language, and it
was Unnquk.
“Wait, what?” he asked rhetorically for the millionth time, “He is
personally involved in whatever the fuck this sickness is? Damn, this is no
movie, no project for the Cinematography Exam! I need to speak with him, fuck
the punch and Ira’s bruises, this is the shit! Holy birdsnakes, what the fuck is
this?!”
Aidan put the PTV down. It was too much information to take in all at
once and to process. He stood there, frozen in meditation for about five minutes
before telling himself the decisions he took.
“Y’know, I really think that it would be a great idea to go to my mother
and make contact with her, talk a little, solve decades-old problems… That
sound neat, doesn’t it? Just to check and see for once the Icetowers myself.”
It was a crazy idea that he otherwise wouldn’t have taken into
consideration. He made a point to leave his past behind and swim forwards with
Ira, but the discoveries and anomalies he saw today were too much, his curiosity
had peaked and he could no longer hold it in. The wall he tried to build
separating himself in past and future had collapsed before it was finished under
the weight of this new evidence. Now he had this goal set in mind.
“Also, I wouldn’t hurt anyone to try to speak with Unnquk again…” and
with that break the rational part of him told that he was going crazy and that he
should take it easy and wait for a rational explanation and plan his steps ahead
before he gets himself killed by that madman.
He agreed, it was a stupid idea and he should take precautionary
measures, maybe only try to contact his mom through the police and not a
highly illegal visit.
“Yeah… Who knows for how long would I be stuck there? And they
have no food, and water is more of a decoration and utility. You want to visit
her, but living folks and non-retired people are banned from going for good
reason.” he told himself, and despite this, he was willing to take the risks.
His internal crisis was cut short by Ira’s call that let him know she was
waiting outside for him. He checked out promptly, and in a few minutes, he was
in the car with her.
“Hello!” she greeted him, cementing her eagerness to spend the day with
him by exchanging a short kiss.
 Aidan was concentrating on not acting weird. He was still shocked from
the videos he had seen, having a hunch that something was wrong, a feeling
shared by his guts, a general impression that something bad was about to
happen, without the ability to pinpoint exactly what.
This feeling of anxiety was battling on the inside with another giant,
making Aidan use the best of his acting skills to maintain his composure. The
moment with her reminded him of the time he watched the episode of Dalnon’s
Real House, of how peaceful he felt on the inside when Ira was resting her head
on his shoulder. A part of him made him want to relive the moment, the
calmness and wholesomeness, and as such balanced the anxiety, one completing
each other. Was it really worth it looking further into the matter with Unnquk?
If what he saw was just a weird project or movie, maybe made by Unnquk in his
younger days, before going mad? Then he would just worry for nothing a waste
a few days of peace, of this beautiful time of his life, for nothing. But what if it
had been indeed something darker and bigger than him behind it? Then he
would risk, if not losing his life, ruining the rest of it. Was it worth it? And
meeting his mother, he knew most of what mattered. He could find someone
that knew the family and find out himself the answer to all the questions,
without risking anything…Was it worth it? He was given a break from this
battle when the common enemy of hunger stabbed him in the stomach.
“Where do you want to go now?” she asked, “If you don’t know, I’ll give
you a hint. It’s fun, digital and technological-ish.”
“Yeah, um we could go to a game-room shthingy shthing, that’d be neat,”
Aidan accepted a little confused, and then presented his conditions, “but I must
eat first, I’m starving!”. To enforce his feelings, he patted his belly a few times.
“Hah! Of course, it’s fine. I ate before, so I’ll just look. To your place
then? Do you have something waiting in the fridge for you or are you going to
cook something again?” she asked, buckling her seatbelt.
“No way! That’s masochistic! I know my standards may not be the
highest, but to sit and wait for the cook while starving is where I myself draw
the line” he said on an overly sarcastic voice for comedic effect. “Now for real,
let’s go to Exelor’s. It’s number 27 on the 5th street.”
“Aaah, the place you used to work and now have lunch there almost
every day. Awesome, let’s go!” she told him as they parted for the restaurant.
They made their entrance at the restaurant. Ira’s first impression was a
positive one, seeing the place was elegant enough to accommodate quite
important guests if necessary.
 “Wow, this is looking very decent, I expected something less impressive.
So far so good, let’s see what they have to offer in terms of food and
accommodation.” she told herself.
The two were greeted by Judy at the end of the grand hall. Her eyes
widened at the sight of the two acted very formal to the two of them.
“Welcome int’our own wide-open warm arms! On our side art the
pleasures and the honours o’ serving yee. Telleth me if by matter o’ chance I so
happen t’be in the wrong, but I supposeth you wisheth a private cabin?” and she
twice, in front of Ira and Aidan. When she reached the lowest point of her bow
before him, he greeted her back in a casual way,
“Hi, it’s alright, if y’got one that’d be nice.”
She froze in place, keeping that position for an extra moment as to not
show the surprise on her face. When she got up, looking eye contact with
Aidan’s eager eyes and receiving an informal greeting from Ira too, her
bewilderment increased again,
“Hi as well! Speak and act as it comes most natural to you, don’t worry.”
Puzzled, she made sense of what was going on, but after reading their
faces, and a smile materialised itself on her face as it came together. Not
knowing the decree to which the two were acquainted, she didn’t say anything
out loud, but congratulated Aidan with a quick excited glance.
“We do have a private cabinet free. What’s your order?” she inquired.
“I’ll have fried potatoes with some pork and a glass of tonic water.” he
told her, and unexpectedly Ira also ordered something.
“What kind of salads do you offer?”
“Our restaurant offereth a multitude o’ such dishes, per se, Shrimp and
Noodle with Ginger Dressing o-” she was cut short by Ira ordering the first
thing she presented. Next, Judy escorted the two to the cabin they would wait
for the meals, and bowed again once before Ira only and left them alone. There
they sat and began talking to pass the time.
Ira began the conversation by talking of her impressions of the place out
loud, telling Aidan that she liked it so far and followed with her opinion on the
hostess, which was also overall favourable,
“I can see she’s good at her job and she’s likeable enough, but doesn’t
stand out much. She acted the way it is expected of a host.”
 “Yeah, I guess that’s so.” Aidan agreed, and then thought about how odd
it was like that she continued acting formal with her only. After expressing this
detail, Ira responded with some indifference.
“Well yes, but I don’t see what’s that big of a deal, Neka and other
employees also do that oftentimes. They’re just used to talking like that.”
“Yes, their used to talking like that to us living folk. Down there in the
kitchen nobody speaks like that. I guess she’s used to talking like that to
strangers, but not to me.” Aidan reasoned.
“Probably. I think it’s a nice touch of politeness; I like that. Anyway,
what have you been doing at the library, more exactly?”
“Just be honest.” Aidan told himself. “The Register of Retirement was
published today… and I looked into it to see when some of my relatives retired,
to find out more about them, stuff like that. I hardly found anybody
remembering them clearly or being close to them, but to be honest I didn’t
check all the neighbours they had.”
“Interesting… Did you find out why you were abandoned? And it’s not
surprising you haven’t found somebody acquainted; I can barely name all my
neighbours. Usually there’s not much incentive to befriend them, in case you
don’t know.”
“Really?” Aidan asked surprised. “How? I know all of my neighbours,
Tunics don’t sleep, so they can get pretty noisy at night.”
“That makes sense.” Ira judged. “In my case, why would you talk to your
neighbour? They mind their own business; you go to each other’s Gatherings
and if they don’t pick your interest you don’t really communicate or care. Most
estates are large, so you don’t even get to see them every day. Many of my
neighbours know us just because the towers shade their pools or something, so I
know how’s like to be the one your neighbour curse.”
“Fascinating!” Aidan said, mildly laughing when hearing that. His next
move consisted of explaining her what were his hypotheses regarding his own
origins based on everything he collected so far.
“All of them sound plausible to me, if you put it that way. You might be a
bastard, or have been an unwanted child, but now you are wanted.” she said
after hearing him out, being sweet by expressing her growing feelings and
making him feel better. It was hard to know if his frowning face was caused by
him being hungry, anxious about his past or both.
 Both their meals arrived then, brought to them by two waitresses. Ira
realised she didn’t order something to drink, so she asked for a glass of red
wine. Aidan thanked them for doing their job, which she found odd.
“Why are you thanking them? You’re paying for them to be nice and the
love working here. It’s not like they’re your family, though if you know them
from back in the day, I can get it.” she asked as she began eating.
“Well, I do know both of them and I know they appreciate it, so I just did.
Doesn’t cost me anything to do so.”
“Why do they appreciate it? They can’t get tired, they’re not investing
anything, not even time, they have plenty of it. I don’t understand what’s there
to appreciate.” she told him.
“They might have all the time, but not the moment. Most of them would
be doing something else.” he began explaining.
“But they are doing what they want, helping us to maintain the good
lifestyle, paying back for the careless life they lived. It’s fair, you don’t have to
appreciate the normal, you don’t thank anybody for not shooting you…” she
argued, beginning to eat her salad.
“Just know that many I know would actually like some recognition, as
they’d rather have fun and watch TV or do something artistic.” and he joined,
beginning eating.
“Yeah, but that would be unhealthy. Just imagine having a virtual eternity
of just consuming and doing what you want.” she said and then after
swallowing she continued, “Just imagine how in a decade, you’ll be numb and
have trouble finding anything interesting anymore.
“Maybe.” Aidan replied simply, hiding his reaction behind his chewing.
“What’s the point of existing then? Two thirds of your day are spend
producing for your children and the rest you can actually do what you like.
Pretty neat, I’d say.” she added after eating a little more.
“If you love your descendants, yeah.” Aidan countered her point.
“Yeah…” she admitted, him having struck a sensitive string of hers, but
didn’t let it show. “But that’s why you’ll retire eventually, you’re not stuck
forever. You might dislike a generation, like another one, it’s still balanced until
you retire.”
 “Yeah…” he replied, having his mind again on the videos he had
watched, unsure what to believe.
Ira was the first to finish as her meal was less voluminous. Seeing this,
Aidan decided to share some of his concerns and pulled out Unnquk’s PTV.
Next, he told her that seeing most of the recording, he didn’t know what to
believe about it, because it both seemed unbelievable and real. She began
watching in silence and let a small chuckle after a few minutes and continued
watching in silence the recording of the icy shores and Lavonian crowd.
When he himself finished too a few minutes later, he waited in silence
until she paused and returned the phone.
“That’s some dedication on the part of Unnquk! Awesome!”
Aidan was baffled and taken aback by the lightness she treated the video
with, and he asked disorientated, “Why? What do you mean?”
“I thought you said you watched the news, don’t you?” she asked in
return. “Have you heard of unfiction?”
“Well, I do, but I don’t have all day to watch it. What’s unfiction?”
“You know there are shows that don’t pretend to be real, like the Story of
the Tunic King, and then there are shows that look and feel real, like Dalnon’s.
Well, there have been projects that take it a step forward. It’s pretty niche, but
these guys try to immerse you in all kinds of ways, including leaving clues or
hiring actors to make it feel real. This is exactly what’s here.”
“What?!” Aidan cried out loud, his face frowning and his fluster shining
through his eyes.
“Yeah, I saw these scenes on a compilation aired on TV. There is a guy
called Alan Neustein, he’s the director behind all the actors. He took a new
approach, spilling a movie in a bunch of parts and then hired actors to spread
the word. He’ll be awarded an award at the end of the year of this, cuz he was
so convincing the government had to look into this when a few actors took it too
far spreading this ‘reality’ at the protests.”
“And where do you get this information? Why don’t more people know
about this? This phenomenon should be more well-known, Doomsland! I was
seriously thinking about sneaking to the Icetowers to make sure everything is
alright!” he exclaimed with some relief in his voice.
Ira was amused by his reaction and said, “I’ll show you some newsletters
I got from CineTV where they covered it in more detail. See, this is exactly how
they want the audience to react. It’s just the natural next step from reality-
shows, blurring the line between reality and fantasy, asking what is truly
possible, having fun not by visiting an imaginary world, but by having an
imaginary world come to you… As I can see by your face, you’re not exactly
into this, and neither are many people. That’s why it’s niche.”
“But if they want everybody to believe they are real, why have news
coverage and trailers? Are they smart enough to pull this off but stupid enough
to give it away like that? Makes no sense!”
“Calm down and stop worrying about this… No, they are advertised
against their will. They can’t break character, but the people still need to be
informed, that’s why when one is discovered, the government makes big
newsletters and TV channels call them out. There’ve been some that claimed to
have proof that crocodile people lived in the sewers, others with like secret
islands and military interventions, some with aliens, there’ve been enough of
these. You were unlucky enough to run into one.”
“Well, yeah, I don’t really follow newspapers. Maybe that’s what Sam
meant when he told me this is just a horror movie he’d seen. But Unnquk was
not fooling around in the ditch or when he attacked me or you for that matter…”
“As I told you, the mind behind it will be awarded for his realism, at the
cost of some actors getting arrested for going over the top, that has already
happened. We should just play along and pretend to be like super-worried when
we give this phone in to the police.” Ira reassured him, now feeling almost
flattered to have taken part in the piece of art, letting go of resentments.
“Alright… Phew! They… they got me there for sure! Disadvantages of
living under a rock, eh?” he tried to humorously make fun of himself.
“But what did you say about going to the Icetowers?” she asked with the
characteristic prying curiosity again.
Aidan’s demons were just beginning to dissipate, him believing Ira and
Sam’s explanations and discovering that he was out of touch with the latest
developments in the film industry, which was indeed understandable.
“Yeah, I had this crazy idea of going there somehow, to see if those villas
were the only thing or there were worse parts like what is recorded here. It
would offer the chance of meeting with my family and asking why they mass-
retired. Maybe they disagreed with Cedric’s policies, I have no idea, and even
though I wouldn’t hurt me not to know, I’d like to be on good terms and see
they are happy there.” he confessed, but then dismissed his own idea again,
calling it mad and retarded.
“No, no, no!” Ira defended the plan with enthusiasm. “That’s the idea, it’s
crazy! I would like to do that if I were on better terms with my family, but you
have no superiors, you’re your own boss, you can do it! What a thrilling
adventure that would be! I think you should go.”
Aidan was puzzled again “What? They most likely have no food there, I
could starve, how would I even know where they are? And breaking the law
doesn’t seem the best thing to do, maybe your Househead will kick me out, I
could be deprived of liberty, they could take away some of my time… It’s a bad
idea, there are so many ways it could go wrong, it’s ridiculous!” he protested
against her childish enthusiasm and eagerness to get in danger.
“What if I helped you? I could get information from my branch manager,
pretending to be miss one of the guys who’ll retire this Cleansing. I could get
you there safely. Do you think the cruise ships have nobody alive on them? Or
that there is no food just in case on the airplanes? I am sure you’ll be alright, I
just need to make a plan, or we could do it together!”
Aidan laughed. “So, I will probably get nothing from the neighbours, so
going there is really my only chance…” he thought. “Sure. If you can make a
plan and I can’t find out anything in the meantime, I’ll do it.” he accepted, being
sure that she won’t be able to come with a convincing enough plan.
“Why does she want me to do that?” he asked himself, “Is this some kind
of self-fulfilment like when parents want their kid to succeed where they failed?
I guess yes, only she seems to want to go there for the ‘thrill’ of doing
something risky. Fascinating…” he reasoned inside his mind.
“Can I ask you something?” Aidan asked. “You just told me that you
don’t have the best relations with your Household, you told me previously that
you ‘used to’ do races and when I asked you backed out. Also, it is written in
the Registry you’re 29, and that’s kinda old for somebody like you to go
unmarried. In addition, you found me the most interesting of all the men you
met so far? What’s up with you?” and he could see how her high spirits and
excitement from convincing him to go forward with the plan faded gradually at
high speed into… shame?
“Um… yeah… about that… huh, y’told me everything, I guess I owe you
this much… Don’t I, heh…?” she began timidly, but explained him the situation
she put herself in by refusing to live the life planned for her.
 “So yeah, I really don’t think I’m ready for a kid, I can’t really commit to
that right now, I… I kinda wish to be young for as long as I can, I want to enjoy
my youth as much as I can. Do you understand? I know you’ll think this is
selfish, but… I don’t think you’ll get it. You were never accustomed to the good
life, nor ever had to worry of getting pregnant… S-sorry.”
He saw something he rarely saw in living people, he could see her
anxiousness, shame for her mistake of just truly being herself. He could sense
the opposition from within herself, how she was forcing herself to open up
genuinely, another thing he didn’t thing usual people could. She was extremely
nervous, playing with her hair constantly and shaking both her legs underneath
the table, sweat dripping on her face.
“I can’t understand it, that’s right, but I can take it and see past it. And get
over it, don’t worry. In fact, I know too well what means having to do
something you don’t want. I just couldn’t escape it, but if you can go for it!” he
replied, bending over the table to kiss her forehead and give a short hug. “It’s
alright!” he added.
In an instant her face lit up, with a kind of nostalgic sadness undertones,
like a man seeing his town rebuild after a civil war he took part in.
“Wow!” she thought, keeping it to herself, “This life really made him
different. Zuzen keeps on beating me over my head with insults and sarcasm
because of it, Igon gives no fucks, but advices me to follow my own path, so
he’s not as bad but not supportive, just tolerant. Neka is secretly disappointed
and Agure fights for me with pity and mercy, still disagreeing. He’s the closest
to understanding me out of the guys I’ve met since 25. The most tolerant just
looked at me like a weirdo and the worst accused me of being a spoiled selfish
rebellious immature brat and then broke up; what hypocrites!”
“Wanna go to the game-room now?” she asked out loud, with her
liveliness having returned completely, like nothing had happened.
“Of course!” he replied, sharing the enthusiasm.
“Hm…” Aidan thought as they left the private room and he paid for his
meal while she paid for hers. “Maybe not everyone wants is so on board with
having their life controlled in exchange for luxury. That sounds like it should be
more common, but I haven’t seen proof of it besides occasional feuds where a
son was trying to start his own branch. Probably they just don’t speak about it, I
guess… It was very hard even for her to put herself in such a vulnerable and
easy to critique position, after all. Whatever, Aidan, stop worrying about it and
just enjoy the rest of the day, stop ruining everything, lucky bastard!”
 When the two got in the car, Ira suddenly remembered something she
wanted to ask Aidan to do,
“I almost forgot, you don’t have a certificate proving you’re fertile, do
you? We still have time to go to a hospital and get it, right?”
“Oh, do you need that for the adoption too? Well, sure, it’s not too late
yet, and we can go to the games afterwards.”
“Yeah, we need it. Where exactly is this hospital?”
The two drove off to number 32 on 2nd street and in about half an hour,
Aidan finished he’s part in offering a sample and he would get a text by PTV to
the private archive where the document could be accessed by anyone with the
code attached in the text.
When they finally entered Digital Reality Arcade, a set of large rooms
equipped with a variety of games, they decided to play together a VR shooter
and try their best to outmatch each other and then entered on the same team in a
few multiplayer matches with other people and Tunics in the room. After, they
played some more games for a while, like racing against each other or boxing
and sword duelling in a three-dimensional simulated arena.
They both left half an hour before Sam told them he’d arrive, holding
hands and laughing, recalling funny moments from the games. Aidan was over
the emotional rollercoaster the day had been, relaxed and enjoying the fun he’d
had, not even the relatively high price he paid for the experience being able to
pull him down.
“Excuseth mine own intervention anon, but I must beggeth the question
o’ wherefore art thee in such proximity t’the lady?” a passerby Tunic asked
Aidan as the two were heading towards the car. “’Tis both inappropriate and it
is yond mine own comprehension how a respectable Househead would
approveth this! Honourable lady, art thee held against thy desire?” the stranger
approached, putting himself in the middle between the two.
“Wherefore doth thee not reorienteth thy unrequested care elsewhere? I
can assure thee I’m caused more fury by thy intervention than any other matter
o’ the moment! I humbly requesteth thy departure, please!” Ira protested.
“Míne own art the apologies, lady! I wisheth thee no disturbance, I am
only doing mine own civil duty, please understand. May I know thy
Household’s name?”
 “I’m alive, dude, everything is alright, just fuck off, please.” Aidan told
him in return, pointing at his breathing chest and presenting his wrist in an
invitation to check his pulse.
The man could feel the rhythmic vibrations of his hand and instantly
apologized again, blaming his confusion on Aidan’s grey tunic and left bowing
before both of them.
“Seagles, do you have to put up with such gentlemen all the time?” Ira
asked Aidan as they reached the car and entered.
“Only when I’m doing something that contradicts my attire. Doesn’t
happen to often and I got used to it, no big thing anymore.” he explained
buckling his seatbelt and then the two left for Aidan’s place.
The two were sitting on the bed talking, Ira rubbing her fingers one
against the other and doing the same with her toes, when out of nowhere Sam’s
head appeared through the door,
“Hey, man, could you open the door? I can enter, but I’m afraid these
bottles and doses have a harder time doing that. Oh, hi Ira!”
“I left the door open, have you tried it?” Aidan asked back.
Sam put his arm through the door and opened with the doorknob from
inside, “Sorry, my bad!” and as the door opened wide, he and Jenny entered,
Sam taking back the bags from her and bringing them all to the room.
They made their introductions and at Ira’s request began the night by
smoking some Khala. At first, they chatted, updating each other on what
they’ve been doing and then going crazy by starting to take turns doing karaoke.
They celebrated deep into the night before the two left. Ira failed to abstain from
drinking too much and was unable to drive herself home, but refused to take a
taxi and insisted that she spend the rest of the night there.

Chapter 9: Children…

In the morning, when Aidan’s alarm rang, he woke up in an instant,

stopping it and jumping out of bed to the bathroom and beginning his matinal
routine. Ira was still in the bed, groaning sleepy sounds and yawns at the ceiling
as Aidan was making noise and getting himself busy.
 When he had to switch the lights on in the bedroom so he could put on a
new tunic, Ira was quick to protest against it, hiding her face in the pillow to
avoid the lights,
“What the fuck, stop it! I’m trying to sleep!” she yelled.
“Fine.” Aidan replied, using his PTV lantern instead to light only the
closet and not disturb her sleep. Afterwards he went to the kitchen, to make
himself a sandwich and prepare some coffee, closing the door behind him as not
to light the bedroom with the kitchen’s neon.
“Do you want something?” he yelled from there.
“Yeah, to leave me alone! Damnit, I slept horribly, this bed sucks… So
tired…” she grumbled, unable to open her eyes and trying to find a more
comfortable position.
“Then why didn’t you leave last night?” he continued with the questions.
“I don’t know, I didn’t think it would be this bad…” she mumbled,
setting herself somewhat comfortable.
“And why are you still sleeping on it then?” he perpetuated the
conversation while beginning to eat the sandwich.
“Genius, y’think the floor’s any better? Now, shut up already…” she told
him while thinking, “Seagles, how can you wake up in the morning like this…”
and she yawned again.
“Huh!” Aidan thought and then bit in the sandwich, “yeah… she’s not
waking up. Well, I can’t wait for her and she’ll be pretty hungry when she’ll
eventually wake up, so I better make her another one of these just in case.”
Finishing it and sipping his coffee in a graveyard-like silence, he left the
apartment with delicate steps, leaving the door unlocked and heading off to
work.
She, on the other hand, slept with different levels of comfort until at one
point she could no longer fall asleep because of the uncomfortable bed, getting
up and ordering from its edge,
“Anima, lights on, would you?”
Nothing happened.
 “Shit, where is the switch? I’m starting to think this sleepover was a bad
idea…” she thought and reached from underneath her pillow for her PTV. She
inspected the walls with the lantern and switched the lights on.
Having walked a few steps, she woke up properly, and that was the
moment a headache struck her from the hungover. She went to the corner of the
room where she left her clothes and put them on, searching the compartments of
her dress for a some Khala, which helped with the headache, but made the room
all smoky, so she opened the door as it had been open left open the previous
night for better ventilation. The cigar didn’t replace a breakfast though, so she
headed for the kitchen where she found a simple sandwich on the table.
“Ugh… Just this much? And by the looks of it, it’s also haphazardly
made! What the Doomsland, I deserve something better. What’s in the fridge?”
Opening it, she found no pre-packed food or leftovers from another time,
only raw ingredients. Seeing herself in this situation, she took seat at the table.
As she was all by herself, she seated herself at the equivalent of where the
throne would have been at her grand table, on the miniature version Aidan had.
“Take this Heriotza! Now I’m the big boss, what are you gonna do know,
huh? ‘Tis me, Irakasle Freedomfighter, taking ov’r as Househead o’ the Farefax
clan, ha! Now bow!” she mocked at the importance househeads put on
themselves and on imposing their authority.
Beginning to eat the sandwich, she realised it actually tasted decent and
questioned her attitude towards it.
“Hm… It’s alright, actually! Yeah… I didn’t ask for it and he was kinda
in a hurry most likely, having to go to work and such. If I think about it, he
doesn’t make an extra sandwich just for the sake of it on a usual basis. That
means… he thought of me before making it! Wow! It’s… weird… I just thank
him for this!” she thought and her face lit it. “He would appreciate that, I
think… Yeah, considering what he told me at Exelor’s, I should. He’d definitely
like it. Alright!” and as such she thanked him for the sandwich through a text as
not to disturb him from work.
She was in the middle of eating, realising it wouldn’t be enough and
she’ll have to make herself another one when she heard a voice from the other
bedroom call out,
“Ay, ma man fo’got t’close the door, fooly-dooly! Lemme closs it.”
 Scared, she looked around for a knife and busted in there, holding the
point in the direction of the man while screaming and running towards the door.
The man stood still and the knife went deep inside him.
“Whoa! Whatcha doin’ the’e? You almost ruined ma best suite!” the man
replied amused by the attack.
“NO!!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, getting a hold of the doorknob,
ready to leave at any moment, but dropping the knife as it was useless. “You tell
me what are doing here! This is a private residence and you have no right to be
here!”
“A’ could be sayin’ the same o’ you, but I think we can get along.” The
man stepped back. “Are you… Alive? You be makin’ a good impreshun, a’ give
you that!”
“Yes! Now back off and explain yourself before I call the police!” Ira
yelled again, breathing heavily.
“Yo’ I heard noise, are y’all alright?” another man came through the side
of the wall opposite to the door.
“Yeah, man, we just gotta litta mizunderstandin’ with the mizz, y’know
what a’ be sayin’?” the man explained and told him to go back, which he did.
“Alright, mizz, lemme explain maself.” he began, “A’ know this place
ain’t mine, ‘tis o’ some dude Aidan that be livin’ he’e and be alive. When the
man be going to work, sometimes, swea’ on ma Artefact, just come ove’ to
listen to muzic and dance around. He not be knowin’, fo’ su’e, but a’ ain’t
stealin’ o’ destroyin’, just havin’ fun.”
Ira got to breath and calm herself in the meantime, and she was surprised
by the answer, so she asked for further clarifications,
“And why don’t you do that in your own place? Or speak proper
Lavonian?”
“Y’see, firstly, the knife thing, a’ din-think that was polite, so I see no
reason to speak prope’ly to you. A’ be afraid this northe’n accent would have to
do et. And secondly, this place be lit as fuck! Look, three apartments! A
kitchen! A foocken’ kitchen! And a bathroom, a foocken’ bathroom! All fo’
maself to jump and dance around in! A’ can’t refuse such an offe’, mizz! Wacha
doin’ he’e yoself? Don’be so tense, we can talk…” he explained and as he saw
her let her guard down and let go of the doorknob, he made a few steps forward
shouting and throwing his hand up in the air in a stereotypical scary manner.
 Ira screamed terrified and as she was on the point of opening the door, he
stopped and burst into laughter,
“Ha-ha-ha! Y’shoulda seen yo’ face! A’ was just foockin’ withcha.
Really, wharcha doin’ he’e? No need to pretend to be alive, mizz.”
“I’m not pretending, sick fucker! Get out! Go to work for fuck’s sake!
I’m Aidan fiancé, I have all the rights to be here!” she yelled, holding again
tightly the doorknob behind her.
The smile turned upside down as he realised what he had just done,
“Mine art the apologies, if thou could ever excuseth such barbarisms on
mine own behalf! I am in humbly begging fo’ thy sweetest as honey
forgiveness, miss Househead!” and he bowed, then instead of standing again
kneeled in front of her,
“‘Tis was not o’ mine own intention, I beggeth thee t’consider when thou
shall judgeth me. I am new in town, fo’ if I knew which neighbours to believe, I
wouln’t have cometh here t’disturb thee! Mine own work starteth in the
afternoon shift, I was merely looking fo’ entertainment, forgiveth mine own
foolishness!” he continued with humility and servitude.
Ira’s impulses where telling her to punish this man for his insolence and
blatant disrespect. He was guilty of trespassing, aggravated by doing so using
his Tunic abilities. He also scared her for his own amusement, something else
he could be punished for as it constituted infliction of negativity in the
detriment of happiness for own benefit. She gave in to these impulses,
screaming condescendingly and verbally insulting the man in a multitude of
ways. She threatened him with suing, but when it came to actuality calling him
on a date at the Court, she stopped for a second.
“He wouldn’t like this… I gotta keep him on my side, damnit!” she
thought, before saying, “Get out before I call my lawyer! Now! Before I change
my mind!”
And saying only a swift “Be praised, thank thee!”, the man left through
the wall, running for his peaceful existence.
Having calmed down, she went back to the kitchen and continued eating
her sandwich. When she finished, she spent another 10 minutes looking around
the kitchen to find the ingredients and make herself another one. As she began
eating it, she regretted not having sued the man.
 “The bastard was using Aidan’s electricity for free without permission!
Huh… Who knows how many have increased his bills like this over the years? I
bet he doesn’t even know about half of these incidents... I should have sued the
guy and teach these ungrateful neighbours a lesson.” she told herself. “In fact I
could, the list of apartment owners is only so long, a short investigation and
we’d be done…” and thinking about how it would still be a small effort, but
also, in the back of her head, because of some feeling that she couldn’t put the
finger on, she decided not to.
Later that day the two dressed in grey tunics and went to Centre 1 again
to apologise to Unnquk and see how to play into movie.
“I knew of somebody else who usually does the same, but she’s gone
with her Household for the moment. I would have warned you if I knew, sorry
for the awkward moment.” Aidan replied after she had related him the story of
what happened in the morning.
“Wow! So, you really let them use your apartment? Don’t you think
it’s… inappropriate? To invade your privacy?” she asked while focusing on the
road.
“No, I trust them not to do anything bad. In fact,” he said and raised a
finger to gesture the explanation, “I usually know about them doing stuff like
this. The guy must be new, I don’t know anybody living there that has a
northern accent. I’ll go with him and tell him when he can do it. I’ll also ask for
1H per month just to cover the bill and make a quick buck.”
“Ingenious!” she said sarcastically, “I couldn’t have come up with a plan
like that.”
“Oh, I know you couldn’t. Watch and learn!” he played along.
Not long afterwards, they were close enough to their destination. She
parked on the edge of the road a few hundred meters away from the protesters.
“I wonder for how long they will remain here.” Ira told him as they
headed for the same intersection as last time. “Are they waiting for another
conference with the Parliament?”
“I hope they stay until they are satisfied or sure that things are moving.
Though something seems off. They are not as many!” Aidan realised, pointing
at the lack of people around the tents, with barely enough people to block any
car from entering the city.
 “Yeah, I see it. But why? Do they start leaving or are they going
somewhere else? I want to find out; we’ll go to the Pyramid!” Ira decided
eagerly instead of asking Aidan.
“Alright, we’ll do that…” he sighed in agreement, realising it was better
to go with her than to oppose and have her all alone. “Doomsland,” he thought,
“why do you worry for her? You’ve been there when tensions were high and
nothing happened, you were attacked by an actor and they helped you, why not
trust them? At least as long as you look like them, they don’t mind you.”
As they went on the streets, they encountered the familiar smell of faeces,
but at least Aidan had something to explain when they also saw protesters
keeping people indoors by force and a few helicopters taking people from some
buildings and bringing others.
“Aha! So, they dress like the smoke and don’t let people live their normal
lives, they occupy the streets and they can’t return home unless they fly over
them. That’s what the smoke did to their home, keeping them away, with the
possibility of flying over… Like the airlines between Cassan and the southern
Free Cities! I think I got it.” She interrupted his explanation, offering her own
take on the situation.
“Hum… Yeah, that’s very much what I wanted to say, maybe a bit
improved, actually. You can apply the things you read in those books, that’s a
useful skill.” he admired her aptitude. “How ethical do you think this is?”
“Well, it just forms a way of thinking and viewing certain things. You’ll
see whatever you want if you look enough. That being said… Not really ethical,
but I can’t blame them for giving us a taste of our own medicine, right?” she
asked giving a sense of uncertainty in the morality of her convictions.
“I usually don’t agree with eye-for-an-eye policies, but over 1500 years
of forced exile might be a little, just a little more destructive than Jim and Karen
having to take the helicopter to supervise the workers instead of taking the
limousine.” he said and they both were amused by his comparison, and Ira
exerted her usual confidence,
“Exactly!”
When they got at the intersection of 3rd and 10th streets, they looked
around, but failed to find Unnquk. Naturally, they started asking around,
describing his looks, weird language and peculiar recent activities.
“Nan zi dat maen, yamalih…” (*I didn’t see that man, sorry) many
people were saying, or something along those lines, in any case. That was not
the case with a few who were speaking better Lavonian, but the news they got
were not exactly great,
“Jaz, a man wast arresteth yesterday, he assaulteth some people, dresseth
weird en’ spoketh in tongues, me doth noo knoweth what with him, aisch just zi
him.”
“Thank you for your help.” Aidan replied, looking up at the sky for a
second. “This gesture sure makes us look more like fellow Hakdan.” he told
himself, thanking Ira in his mind for the advice.
Ira had the misfortune of being the first the ask a more radical person the
question before Aidan could transmit the news. A woman was aggressively
shouting at her, criticizing her in a broken Lavonian,
“Undarcovar svine! Dink dee’ll getaway, dat dee can ful uz such easily?
Onourlezz spay, hu dee vorkeng for!?” she was yelling, pushing Ira with both
her hands, trying to corner and call reinforcements.
“Hierf! Hierf! Schi maed!” Ira was shouting back, calling for someone to
stop her. Someone put themselves between the two and separated them. Aidan
rushed in and explained the situation,
“Our parents were traitors! We are Hakdans living here, they won’t even
teach us the language of our forefathers! We speak little of our own native
tongue, but we still want to return home!” he lied convincingly enough to justify
them having local accents, inventing on the go a fictious history of their family.
“Eschkuse, brodar and sizta, may Margal forgive aisch! I dinot zi de man,
yamalih. Be on yur way in peace!” the woman apologised.
Retreating to a quieter corner, Aidan caught her up to speed and the two
were discussing what to do next.
“Right, we were bound to run into some more questionable people.
Seagles, the woman was alive, where all the rage with so little time to
accumulate it?” Ira told him.
“Yeah, every floor has an unclean window, stuff like that happens. I think
we should head for the police station around here and ask about him. We’ll give
them the phone and hopefully it will be returned to the rightful owner.”
“And afterwards we’ll go to the Pyramid!” she changed the subject.
“Yeah, we’ll also go there. But when we do, keep a low profile. We
might find somebody who won’t buy our story there.”
 After about half an hour of walking, they got to the police station. The
predictable street names helped their navigation around the Centre, where all
important institutions had specific addresses, universal across all Centres. It
made the use of a map redundant and Aidan appreciated this feature of the
capital when he had to move from the orphanage to Centre 2.
When they arrived, it was almost a surprise to find that the police door
was also blocked easy access by a protester’s tent. They approached and where
stopped by the owner, who upon seeing they didn’t understand him easily,
changed languages.
“What art you doing here?” he asked taking up an intimidating stance
with his arms crossed, legs spread and chin held high.
“Hm… A friend of ours kinda went missing, so please fuck off.” Ira told
him on a polite tone to defy his authority. Aidan was preparing to get punched
by the man, ironically on the steps of the police station, when the opposite
happened.
“That I can understand, come in.” he said.
Without hesitation, the man stepped aside and let them enter, even going
further and opening the door and then closed it behind them. Once inside, they
headed to the public relations office, where the clerk asked what was the matter.
“An… acquaintance of ours was arrested yesterday, we’re not sure why
and we’d like to find out more. He goes by Unnquk Hillaquk, he’s an actor for a
movie.” Aidan explained.
“You knoweth him? He said he had no-one t’call when we offered him
the chance o’ calling anybody. Nevertheless, he was reported t’cause a mess,
hitting two people. Those where not present, but someone reported him as being
a danger t’the public’s safety, so we went t’investigateth. He’s been detained fo’
the moment as he fiercely opposed any communication with the authorities.”
“Yes, can we see him? The two he got in an argument with are us, and we
don’t want to push charges, it was a mere misunderstanding.” he continued.
“Exactly.” Ira added.
“If the matter is as you claimeth it t’be… I’ll call my superiors and in
about half an hour, if all goes well, you’ll be able t’see him. He won’t be
released though, on the grounds o’ opposing collaboration with authorities.
We’ll probably spend a week with us and then be released, because o’ that.”
The man gave a quick call and summarised the conversation to Aidan,
 “We art not particularly busy anon. Since these protesters are out we art
almost out o’ work, with the exception o’ the field team. A meeting can be
arranged in about half an hour when an officer will come t’accompany you.”
“Alright, we’ll wait.” Ira told him, and took a seat on the other side of the
hall, but Aidan stayed behind to talk with the Tunic.
He looked at his badge, read his name and then asked,
“Sirrah George, how can the police be so laidback? Aren’t you busy with
punishing the violent guys outside?”
“We helpeth the special forces, as reinforcements. ‘Tis not the duty o’ the
regular police forces t’dealeth with riots. The whole Discrict’s frozen. No
companies suing each other, no copyright infringements, a few persons with too
many opioids in the bloodstream… Pretty light, I’d sayeth; thank thee fo’
asking.” he replied, without anything else to do at the moment.
“Isn’t the dude staying outside bothering you? He’s acting like thug,
checking who enters and all that…”
“Ha-ha! Very nice, ‘tis working! Nay, he’s part o’ the field team. He
knows Hakdan, so he makes sure no real thug occupies the stairs. He won’t say
nay t’anyone who wanteth t’entereth.” he responded amused.
“Smart!” Ira said loudly from her seat.
“Yeah… And how’s it been with the protests? Have you existed through
the Smoke Riots?”
“T’be honest… Excuseth mine own parlour, but I’m afraid. They come
and go usually, going away after they are promised what they want. But now…
They didn’t. My colleagues told me that they were disappointed by yet another
promise at the conference a few days ago, but nobody left. They’re not giving
up… And tensions are only rising. The Wind Barrier happened so long ago, few
of their oldest Tunics have even seen heard stories of how life was there. We’re
all fair and square now, they are treated like everyone else, why do they look
conflict? It’s, excuse my language, borderline retarded.” George replied at first
with fear and then ending with confused nervousness.
“Do you think those will repeat?” Aidan asked worried.
“Exactly. And to answer your other question, yes, I existed then, I’ve
been working here for around 400 years.” he confessed. “This is what happened
before too, the silence before the storm. May the Birdsnake and Seagle keep
them from coming with bombs ever again. That’s part of the field team’s work
now, mass searches for explosives. The things they’ve done then… I saw things
I wish I never did. It’s not a good idea to go there, honest advice. I can hear in
your language, you’re locals, please go back and don’t return until things have
calmed down.”
Aidan could read the plea in his eyes and calmed him warmly,
“No, we’re here just for the guy, in and out. It’s dangerous as a Lavonian
around this part of the capital. Thank the field team for the danger they expose
themselves to.”
“Thank you. Stay safe!”
Aidan then joined Ira and could see the bitter disappointment in her eyes
as she said ‘alright’. He was glad to see she understood and even if she didn’t
like it, she gave up on the idea of exposing themselves to unnecessary danger.
“Seagles!” she thought to herself, “Why can’t they all understand that I’m
with them? Why can’t they fucking listen before jumping to conclusions? Just
because I’m not one of them doesn’t mean I disagree or that I’m a spy of
whatever! They can accept conspiracist engineers in their ranks, but not a
normal person. Ridiculous! With such an attitude nobody would want to help
you, but I guess that’s just a biproduct of their anger and dissatisfaction. Still,
not all of them are like that, some helped me… But did they do it just because I
looked like one of them? Impossible, I swore and said thing in the local dialect,
they would have notices… Damnit! Just let me support you already!”
They changed the subject and talked of other trivial matters until a
policeman dressed in a brown tunic came to escort them to Unnquk’s cell.
He was staying in a bed similar bed to Aidan’s in a small room with a
toilet in the corner and a cheap dirty carpet covering the entirety of the floor.
They found him dressed in the plainest possible white robe, eating rice with
vegetables from a plastic fork on a plastic plate.
“Doomsland, this looks horrible! He’s not even convicted yet! These are
primitive conditions!” Ira thought to herself, “Yep, I don’t wanna go to prison.”
“It’s not even that bad, look, a toilet!” Aidan reasoned, seeing the
similarities to a regular Tunic’s apartment with touches of his own.
Unnquk raised his eyes and when he saw them, he put the food down and
come to the small opening in the bulletproof glass between him and the outside.
 “What art you doing here? You watcheth?! You believeth?! Tell me you
did! Yaka Ikuat palak!” (*So Ikuat make-be!) he said with sparkles of hope in
his eyes.
“Hi, sorry for how we departed. I think we were all nervous and our
emotions got the best of us.” Aidan said before Ira continued,
“Yeah, we didn’t turn you in, but we won’t press charges or anything.
You live for the role! Do you think they’ll give us a role in the movie?”
“What movie?” he asked confused.
Aidan took out the PTV from one of his pockets. And showed it to him,
“Look, we know it’s a movie, just break character for a second and
apologise. I’m sure they’ll release you sooner if you behave properly.”
Unnquk slapped his face hard, repeating the words ‘movie’ and
‘character’ with an ironic laughter that send shivers down both their spines. He
dropped on his knees again, saying with his face glued to the glass,
“I am not going out no matter what. I am not actor. That is not movie. I
am lost! I am lost! Ha… Ha-ha! See you all in Doomsland. Children, you think
like children… Like children… You are children…Children.”
“That’s an awesome performance, but we should talk normally. What
should we do with the PTV? It’s not ours.” Ira insisted, now paying little
attention to the performance.
“You don’t believeth. Nobody dost. Nobody will. Doth whatever, goth
and seeth fo’ yourselves.” he said cynically with lost hope stinking out of his
breath as he got into a foetal position on the floor.
He kept on crying in the cell, not responding to any questions, repeating
over and over ‘Nalaki, Ikuat quallaqmik!’, pretending he was alone.
Aidan was profoundly disturbed, while Ira was not at all impressed.
Moreover, she got bored by his behaviour and insisted on going until Aidan
gave in and the two left. Just as this was happening, Unnquk cried out,
“All of them, these people tooketh all of them! Doth not trust! Run!” and
then kept on repeating those words.
At the exit, they were awaited by somebody else, a Tunic wearing all
purple. Seeing her, they both bowed and then were asked,
 “You went to see our actor? He’s hard to crack, doesn’t even admit his
real name, very uncooperative. How about you? Please identify yourselves!”
They both showed their ID cards besides just stating their full names.
“Very well. How did you come across this… actor?” she asked them with
a predatory gaze.
“I met him. My associate here is just a bystander. He was in a ditch
between Centre 1 and Suburb 1. He claimed to have acquaintances in Centre 1
among the protesters at the intersection of 3rd and 10th streets. We are not
involved in the movie.” Aidan explained quickly and precisely, holding his head
down the entire time.
“Good. Thank you very much, we don’t need your assistance. You are
free to go.”
They both exited the building as soon as she said that, but not before
bowing again. Once outside they started discussing the incident and for a split
of a second Aidan managed to hear the woman yelling at George the clerk.
“What the fuck does the Internal Affairs Minister do here? Isn’t she
supposed to be in the Pyramid or something?” Aidan asked marvelled by her
presence. “And what was up with her and the movie? Why does she care? She’s
got more important things to do with the protests!”
“I don’t know, I guess she must be a fan of the project. She’s only human
after all. Maybe she was informed that we are part of the scheme and wanted to
ask something.” Ira supposed. “But Unnquk’s performance was horrible. It was
not engaging at all and didn’t further the mystery. It looks like a dead end. I’m
sure he’s just improvising. Clearly he didn’t write the script and got in a
situation he doesn’t know how to get out of.”
“I don’t think he was faking it. It looked real to me.” he said on a
contemplative tone, still trying to process it happening.
“And you think what you saw there is more plausible than a man going
too far with a script?”
“To be honest, yes. I couldn’t and haven’t met anyone willing to do
something like that.”
“I suppose you don’t know many actors, do you?” Ira said amused,
dismissing his worries.
“That’s true, I don’t.” he admitted, continuing to be confused.
 “Just let me try something, alright?” she said, stopping in place. Taking
her PTV, she video-called somebody. The person picked up and activated the
camera too. They were lying on a sofa watching TV.
“Yes, my dear?” she asked with a sweet voice.
“Hi, Faltzua! Sorry for bothering you, I just wanted to show you
somebody. He’s my new boyfriend and I wanted you to see him.”
“I am so happy to hear that!”
Ira gave Aidan the phone and she introduced them to each other,
“Aidan, this is cousin Faltzua. Faltzua, this is Aidan. I told him about you
and I insisted that I disturb your peace for a little so you two can meet.”
“Hello, Aidan, glad to meet you! I am Ira’s cousin, Faltzua. Lucky boy,
what can I say? Ha!” she said blankly. “I wish you to be happy together. Update
me on the relationship as soon as possible.”
“One more thing, can you show Aidan the weather? I told him that it’s
sunny there for half a year.”
“Yes. I will show you the outside.” And then the screen went black a few
seconds and then she showed Aidan the outside through a window. It was all a
forest of houses of all sorts sitting on white ice under a deep blue sky. Faltzua
simply narrated in the background the obvious sunny weather. The screen then
went black a few seconds again and she was again on the sofa in the exact same
position as before.
“I really want to see this show. Excuse me, but I will leave.” And then
she hung up.
“See?” Ira asked as she took back her phone. “It was nice of her to
sacrifice some of her time for us. What you just saw seems less real than that
stupid movie? You don’t know any actors, but I’ve seen some mutilate
themselves for a role and then be proud of themselves for playing to perfection.
Calm down. The worst part is that we didn’t get a role in the story.”
“Well…” Aidan said and then paused to thing for a second. “Yeah, I
suppose you’re right? I know that some Tunics decide to keep contact with
relatives. It’s just… I don’t know… A gut feeling, I guess.”
“Well, leave that behind and focus on something better. Let’s return and
watch a movie or something fun!”
“Alrighty!” he said, hiding his remaining doubts.
 Chapter 10: Welcome to the House!

Two months later, Ira was waiting outside Aidan’s office, waiting for him
to come out so the two could go to prepare for the ceremony that was about to
take place later, at midnight.
“How did it go?” she asked as he entered the car with a folder in his hand,
looking relieved and stunned at the same time.
“It’s… Alright. It just feels weird, y’know, I’ve been dreaming of this
and now that is happening… I just can’t believe it.” he said and then directed
his gaze down at the documents in his hands before sighing like an exhausted
marathon champion, “I’m free… Free!”
“Nice! Now we’ll get back to my place and get you painted and dressed.
Your suit arrived yesterday afternoon, but you still need to try it.” she told him
and expressed her eager anticipation before stepping on the gas, “Can’t wait!”
Despite the lack in solitude and the rather joyful atmosphere propagated
by the upbeat music in the car, Aidan still felt alone enough to wander in
daydreaming as the flats passed by his window. He imagined himself running at
the same speed with the car, jumping over and sliding past obstacles on the way.
“Yeah… It’s done, in fact, it’s done. I finally quit; Jeff signed the last
papers. From tomorrow there is no need for me to be there. Well, not really. He
was pretty adamant with his insistence that maybe, just maybe, I should wait
until the next Cleansing, to help with the increase in work. Nobody can argue
with a parliamentary Househead though, so I got it my way. Lucky me…
You’ve been longing for this for so long, your dream is coming true, you’ll get
the girl, you’ll get the life, what’s wrong? Somehow you still are not satisfied,
you can feel it in the way your heart beats, you can’t deny it? What now? Do
you need to see yourself pass this moment, to normalise all the changes, just to
believe that this has happened?” he asked himself and answered his own
question,
“I guess so… I know something can still go awry. I don’t know when I’ll
feel satisfied and safe, because I can’t see the difference; where is the
difference? I thought that just leaving, just getting all of it, will make me feel as
oblivious as many of them are. But I can’t see the difference from yesterday.
I’m the same man as yesterday. And the day before yesterday. For almost a
month I’ve been planning my quitting. For a little longer I knew I would be
accepted into the Household… Yet, I’m still the same. For how long? I hope
that once I actually change my lifestyle, this… disbelief… would just go away.
Am I an impostor? It feels so, I’m not sure what to believe…”
The two got stuck in traffic in Centre 4 when the flood of Tunics and
busses rolled down in the valley of the roadway from the peaks of the office
building mountains.
Ira was stressed by this delay, so she opened the window and took a few
puffs of Khala outside the car to calm down. When she pulled her head back
inside, she started talking to Aidan,
“Urgh!” she began with a tired and annoyed groan. “These last few days
have been truly worse than the Doomsland! Usually I can get away with not
meeting the family members that I don’t care about, but now they all come from
wherever they are working, just for this idiotic ceremony!”
“I thought you liked the ceremony.” Aidan replied, “You were pretty
enthusiastic to tell me all about it about three days ago when you finished that
mythology interpretation book….”
“Well, yeah, it’s nice to know the symbolism and origin, but it’s
something else when because of it you keep on running into some overly-
attached great-great-great-granduncle that you don’t remember and have to
pretend you still recall his name! Because for whatever reason, he is attached to
the daughter of the son of the…so on… for a bunch of generations he barely
knew on the surface and loves you like a pet just ‘cause you rely on oxygen to
live.”
“Good point. Even direct blood relations get diluted over time. You’re
sharing around 1% common DNA and sounds like he acts as if you’re his
daughter.” he admitted, “Are your feelings shared by anyone?”
“Well, yeah and no. I mean, Zuzen did, but he changed his mind since he
had that baby, lucky me I have sound isolating walls. Lil’ Igo is usually too high
to have an opinion, but he’ll get along with anyone who died of an overdose, no
matter the Household.”
“Very sociable man, I can’t wait to see him sober for once!” he exclaimed
with sarcastic enthusiasm.
“Yeah…” she chuckled, “He’s been in rehab for a week now, only for
this occasion. Don’t believe one second it was his intention, he was forced to go
there against his will.” she explained with a smile on her face.
 “And by ‘forced’ you mean that he said something like ‘…nay…’ while
someone picked him up off the lawn?”
Laughing properly but not very hard, she expressed her agreement. Soon
the car centipede spread out and they made some good progress towards
arriving home.
They passed by Aidan’s flat, and he recalled all the time spent there as he
said goodbye to it in his head. Yesterday he spent the afternoon taking his
personal possessions in a pickup driven by Ira. A neighbour helped him get the
job done while she waited in the car. The large pieces of furniture or household
appliances where left behind, so he had only to pack his clothes, a few books
and was helped by a neighbour with the heavier things like the TV or vacuum
cleaner. They were all taken to her apartment, in his new home.
It reminded him of how happy she had been seeing how little room his
stuff took. It meant she didn’t have to make room to accommodate him and got
to keep all her things. It was obvious the place would change little with his
moving in, and she could only be glad not to have to compromise, but keep the
look and personalized aesthetic. He saw satisfying with things being like that,
“Yeah, I’ll get some proper clothes and probably some paintings or game-
stations, but even then, I still don’t think I’ll walk over her territory with buying
new stuff. Outsiders might consider the split unfair, but who cares about that?
I’m happy she’s satisfied and that I won’t have to dress like a pompous model
every day. She even thanked me when I told her she doesn’t have to redecorate,
now that’s what I call gratitude!”
They arrived and spend the rest of the day preparing for the biggest night
of their life so far. Aidan was extremely anxious about getting his face-paint
done right and wearing correctly his custom suits for the occasion. This
approach went hand in hand with Ira turning into a control freak for the
occasion, equally obsessed about getting herself right, but also making sure the
makeup artist hired for the job was doing the best he could. They were checking
each other again in the mirror and in front of each other, suggesting slight
adjustments as the time closed in on them.
“Y’know, I can’t believe that once my hair had finally grown back, I had
to shave it again for this face paint. It not even all that complicated, just all
white!” he expressed his disappointment. “I get the meaning behind it, but I
really wish to have sacrificed my hair for something better.”
 “Don’t worry, you won’t have to stay like that the whole night. Do you
think the feathers on the sleeves are alright or should I brush them a little
more?” she asked, inspecting the feathers in the meantime.
“Not wearing this for long makes it even less appealing!” he replied,
“Um…” he continued, not sure if to trust his instincts when it came to high
wedding fashion, “I don’t know, they look alright, but maybe they need some
final touches, I think...”
“Yep, that’s what I thought too!” she agreed as she began brushing her
arms in a passive aggressive way.
Aidan was wearing white shoes that hid beneath white socks, right below
the white tight pants held with a belt made of albino crocodile skin. To keep in
the thematic, his shirt and coat covering it where of the same shiningly
immaculate colour. The blank face paint extended to also cover all the visible
parts of his body and his lips, brushing over his entirety a colour akin to that of
fresh clean bone. He gave the impression of a marble statue if he stood in place,
and he made several jokes regarding that aspect to relieve Ira’s, but also his
own, tension that was building up, suffocating the dressing room where this
took place slowly, like carbon monoxide.
“All the feathers are in place!” she declared relieved as she put the brush
down. “Now here come the mask and wig!”
A mask made by a specialised artist, that followed faithfully the shape of
her face, moulding like a liquid over her nose and around the eyes, shined
gently by reflecting the lights on its golden surface. It had an elongated
extremity made to resemble the beak of an eagle at nose level, but besides the
golden component, there was a wig attached to it by the upper edges. It was not
made of fake or real hair. Instead it was made of feathers, just like her sleeves, a
combination of blue and silver-coloured plumage.
Her tight dress was a mosaic of geometric blue shapes on a white
background, with the exception of a blob of exposed skin on the side of her
torso, forming a weird irregular shape, looking rather out of place. In addition, it
had a small part of her exposed skin was painted in red. Her feet were equipped
to match with her face, so she wore gold plated shoes. They were pretty
unexpectedly heavy and bulky, but still wearable and had a slight degree of
elasticity, as they didn’t feel like wearing pure metal.
“How do I look? Are you ready for the dance?” and then she followed
with a caw pretending to inspire fear as she brought her feathery arms in front
of him, laughing afterwards at her own horrible impression of an eagle.
 Aidan was not used to seeing her dressed like a bird, even if she had worn
those at the rehearsals, so he made fun of the look,
“You’re terriflying.” he replied with a tone trembling with sarcasm. “And
I am ready for the danccccce!” he continued in high pitch, hissing the last
syllable.
Ira was laughing again at the face he had made to empathise the serpent
accent and at how unfunny first joke had been.
“Ha-ha! Eh… That was incredibly flat and embarrassing, please don’t do
it again.”
“Sssssure.” he replied still in character, faking feeling insulted.
“Now for real, let’s see… Alright, no bare skin is visible on your part,
you’re all white. I think it’s about time you put on the white contact lenses.”
“Not nicccce!” he responded and he carefully put them on, struggling to
calm down his shivering fingers in hopes not to hurt his eyes. Luckily for him,
that wasn’t the case, and his truly white and cold as ice outfit was completed.
“Seagles!” Ira exclaimed disturbed by the new look, but then realized the
irony and paused for a second to internally acknowledge it. “You look out of a
horror movie… this is not alright… I can’t believe you have to do this; it sucks
to be adopted, damn!”
“Hm… I can already see the title of the blockbuster, movie of the year,
‘The Abominable Snowman 2 in 1, 7D 8K Ultra Special Deluxe Collector’s
Edition + Editor’s Cut’! I would pay to see that, thrice!”
“Ha-ha! Yeah, I can see something like that stealing Alan’s award for the
unfiction he did. Definetely better!”
“Alright. Now, the sooner we join the others the more people I can terrify
with my creepy smile.” and then made a demonstration that indeed freaked her
out successfully.
“Good idea, let’s go!”
Coming from an adjacent dressing room, they entered was the main event
hall. It was owned by the Household and rented for extremely large ceremonies
when it wasn’t in use. A regular dining hall like the one Ira’s tower had simply
could not accommodate the amount of people invited. Aidan came to realize
that when she told him that all the different branches were required to attend it,
she was being dead serious. There were about three thousand people in the
room, and despite the lack of serious ventilation the air was clean and didn’t
smell like excessive sweat. In fact, it was hard to see anybody dressed in
something else than a tunic, so when you saw brightly coloured faces and fancy
attires designed to catch your eye, they stood out like a mountain at sea.
Aidan noticed that there was not one tremendously large table or a series
of smaller tables. Instead, the elliptical hall was surrounded towards the edges
by a series of circular tables with multiple levels of elevation, forming an
indoors amphitheatre. In the inner circle there was the actual fuss, the crowd of
people walking around and talking to each other, but some others took their
conversations to the stairs.
As they passed by, or occasionally through the people in order to reach
their place at the table reserved for them, right on next to Heriotza’s throne at
the top level, in its own golden, ornated lodge. Aidan heard fragments, bits and
pieces of conversations between the guests as they headed for the stairs.
“Methinks the two art the most honourable bride and groom!” said one of
them, to which the lady in front of him replied,
“’Tis obvious for all but the most oblivious o’ blinking idiots! When we
passeth yond the initial part, I assureth thee he’ll put on the proper attire.”
Or he heard other people talking about something else, and they were
usually the ones that didn’t aim at him cheerful eyes and smiles. He discovered
that even good intentions can be made to seem secretly evil if one gets
overloaded with them from strangers.
“According to the most official time, there is less than half an hour left
‘fore midnight. I, excuse mine own worries, am starting t’believeth that we
might have t’put up with a delay.”
He barely got to hear the reply before having to move on,
“’Tis t’be understood and forgiven above all o’ Househead Heriotza.”
They got to their respective places, but did not sit down yet as nobody
else did. A voice from behind them introduced itself,
“Aaaah! Congratulations, mine own dearest, thou looketh more stunning
by a multitude o’ degrees than usual, I giveth thee that.” Zuzen began, coming
over from behind them, placing each of his arms on their respective shoulders.
“Thy comments art appreciated with mine heart’s very being.” Aidan
replied robotically, concentrating on pronouncing everything as it should.
 “Uuuu! Somebody learned how to talk, how lovely! You don’t have to
pretend, I’m not here to make your lives any worse…” he added, patting both
on them on the back. Turning his head towards Ira, he kept going.
“No, not at all, we don’t want to ruin this night now, do we? It’s very
important for you, little Irakasle, to see this many people all together, giving a
damn about you! Something truly out of the ordinary, I must admit.” And as he
said those words a satisfied grin appeared on his face and Ira’s blood began to
boil inside, focusing on not losing composure and punching his smug face. He
could feel it when he hugged her with one arm, not letting go of Aidan, so he
backed off. Zuzen didn’t want to cause a scene and turned his attention fully at
Aidan.
“And to you, I have to apologise. I know when we first met, I gave you
some advice that turned out to be useless. You must, must believe it was not
with the malintent. I’m sorry if I came across resentful, spiteful, cold,
unaccepting, distant, uninterested or indifferent to you in the last few months.
You’re always welcome in my warm heart. I’m sorry if the celebration seems
alien to someone like you, I hope you can still enjoy it.”
Aidan had the same urge to bite back at this blatant attack at his honour
but had an easier time controlling himself and instead played into his game.
“Don’t worry for me. I appreciate that you noticed I have improved my
Lavonian Tongue, fine sense of observation, only a master could notice the
subtle nuances of my speech. And I actually do feel like I found my home, the
lost piglet has returned to his long-lost family! How about your child?”
“So good to hear that!” he replied, understanding that putting accent on
the analogy would make him look unreasonable. “My brave boy is being taken
of by a babysitter, he’s too small to behave at such important meetings, and
neither I nor my wife could miss it.”
“How nice of you, to sacrifice the valuable family time for me, away
from your drums, I will never forget!” pretending to have missed a word, she
quickly corrected herself, “Sorry, I meant ‘also away from your drums’, I am
pretty emotional right now, accept my apologies.” she excused herself.
“It’s alright, it’s only your second time going through this, you’re not
used yet. You’ll get over it, you’re strong, brave and independent!” he told her
before excusing himself and leaving the two.
 “Sorry for calling you a pig, I know you’re a special bird.” Aidan added
once he was out of hearing range to elevate from the accumulated passive-
aggressive tension.
“Ha!” she chuckled, “For a second I thought for failed the Biology Exam,
you had me in the first half!” and with a sigh she calmed down. “If only he
wouldn’t do this shit in public, I wouldn’t care, he’s just trying to make me look
bad and ruin this night. Let’s think of something else.” she proposed, and he
accepted her wish.
They had only begun talking about the food that would be served to the
living folks, Aidan relating his unusual adventurous experiences with cooking
lobsters when someone interrupted them again.
“So anyway, you gotta make sure you are using a proper knife and hit the
place just right. You don’t want to miss and get your arm between those claws.”
“Wow, you’re a true survivor, a wild one, master of the forest!” she
acclaimed him with a bit of friendly sarcasm.
“Excuseth mine own intervention, but I wisheth t’speak to thee!” the man
wearing green and red began, “I have been gazing forwards t’meeting thee and
seeing thee in front o’ mine own eyes, it is the quite the visual symphony I have
been expecting!” and then hugged her.
Ira in turn smiled uncomfortably and Aidan could read on her lips she
didn’t know who this man was.
“I am sure thou knoweth that I have been following thee fo’ a prolonged
amount o’ time, and oftentimes, the thought of thee hast helpeth me t’push
forward and keep in functionality the production o’ the factory. Be aware that it
brigheneth mine own soul t’see thee across the chambers, as thy brothers and
sisters and cousins doth the same!”
“Um… Yeah, thanketh thee, it is a pleasure t’give thee motivation t’go
through with thy work!”
“Lady, alloweth me t’correct thy humble words, fo’ thee and thy kin art
more, yee art gifting me a sense o’ life and purpose, a fight and a challenge,
thee art mine own new life!” and the man bowed before her.
“Flattering, kind cousin, I should instead thank thee fo’ the sacrifice thou
art making t’further the good life o’ the living folks!” she replied.
 “Please, ‘tis but payment fo’ mine own youthful days o’ milk and honey!
Yet still, seeing thee and thy kin living the life I left behind, maketh mine own
soul giggle in remembrance and feeleth alive anew!”
“’Tis good t’give meaning and direction t’thy existence! Yond all, when
all is said and done, I wouldn’t be here without thee, or any o’ yee, good old
folk!” she replied again, trying to deflect as much of the over-politeness as
possible.
Once the laudatory remarks were left behind, the man got to the point he
was trying to convey,
“In more important matters, I wisheth t’let thee knoweth I am feeling so
much pride anon, it bringeth me so much pleasure t’finally see thee all grown
up! It would shed a tear o’ joy, but fo’ mine own lack of eyes! I eke have heard
from mine own peers and acquaintances o’ the area that thee hast recently
qualified t’the quarter-finals o’ the Milvan racing competition. I congratulate
thee on thy achievement!”
“That was a few years ago…” Ira thought to herself, “there is some
serious whispers-game playing out around here.” and then actually replied,
“Yes, I seeth thou art in the know when it cometh t’mine own passions. We art
close, I might sayeth! Yet, I have t’inform thee o’ the fact that I have moved
onto other projects in the meantime.”
“Dost thou really consider as such?!” the man asked with eagerness,
ignoring the second part of what she had just said, “I am honoured t’support thy
marriage. Just between the three of us, this chap was the one I hoped you’ll
chose from the beginning!”
Aidan was starting to be creeped out by the man, as there was no way for
what he said to be true, but he kept a straight, even welcoming face.
“This dude is either delusional or doesn’t know who Ira is... That is a
genuinely fucked, poor thing…! Doomsland!”
“Welcome t’the bunch, chap!” the man said turning his attention to Aidan
for a second. He returned to Ira and began giving advice,
“And alloweth me t’adviseth thee on a few elementary matters, fo’ I’m
been through this life, in and out! The key… the key is communication!
Permiteth me t’elaborateth, Ira! In the word, in the word one findeth substance!
And substance is the target, fo’ people art looking fo’ a goal, fo’ tangibility, and
that is the motivation t’keepeth on going. ‘Tis a war, I warneth thee, fo’ the
secret and the transparency doth not getteth along, yet one findeth gold and
peace in releasing the evil essence o’ the spirit o’ the Tunic, in transparency,
thou seeth!” and he continued for a while, giving generic empty advise that
didn’t land well with his speech at the limit of demagoguery.
“And I know thee art very passionate about this, so I brought thee a book
that will surely bring brightness t’thy intellect, some ‘brain candy’, as they call
it nowadays!” and he handed her a book from the inside of his tunic.
Ira looked at it, the exact same volume of mythology that she had just
finished reading. The intention was nice, but that didn’t matter to her, it just
went to proof that he was purely out of touch and probably faked his interest in
her. Or if he really thought he knew her, that was even worse.
“Such a pleasant surprise!” she mimicked an enthusiastic voice, “Exactly
what I was missing!”
“Knew it!” he replied with a worrisome confidence. Then he proceeded to
make conversation, constantly cracking bad jokes and telling them about the
factory, how he operated the machinery to produce wooden planks.
“And then I sayeth t’Bob, ‘Brother, that ain’t 14, that’s 11! You ruined
the last 562 pieces! Now we’ll get into trouble!’, canst thou imagine? Ha-ha!”
“Good.” Ira replied, getting tired of playing nice and interested in this
man. Oblivious to his obnoxiousness, he took her blank response as a request to
find out more.
“Awesome! Indeed, it seemeth that the two of us have many
commonalities t’share! Doth thou wisheth t’find out how we got out o’ that?” he
asked with flaming eyes.
“Yeah… Were the planks just taken to the 11cm section and you just kept
up with your work?” she asked.
“That’s the spirit! If I thinketh about it, it looketh t’me as if thee has also
kept up with what I have been up to, how lovely! Indeed, that’s the order o’ the
course o’ events, except that the 11cm department received were given two
spare hours that day, how crazy!”
“Yeah… How crazy indeed!”
As the man followed up with an uninterruptable string of narration, Aidan
could no longer take it, being left out of the discussion anyway. He turned his
attention towards the conversations others were having, eavesdropping.
 “I wisheth I could sayeth the same o’ mine own line o’ the family, but the
last generation had two daughters that have already married off! In about 200
years mine own tower will be empty and some other branch will be reassigned
t’enjoy what I built! Hopefully I getteth t’retire ‘fore I see that happen!” one
man dressed in blue and red told someone in a group of three chatters.
“Truly unfortunate series o’ occurrences!” one dressed in the same
colours replied, to which he added, “I will retire this year after 900 years o’
crafting the highest quality o’ sculptures fo’ exportation t’the Free Cities and the
Colony. This might very well be the last o’ weddings and adoptions I getteth
t’enjoyeth!”
“Be sure t’keep in touch with us!” the first man responded.
Then the third one stepped in, wearing a tunic with a similar design to
Aidan’s grey one.
“Fellow artisans, in mine own not so vast experience o’ but 523 years o’
crafting jewellery, fo’ export nonetheless, I haven’t attended any adoptions…”
“’Tis true, ‘tis not a common event” the second man said, “It happens in
the most misfortunate o’ cases. I personally weren’t interested by this particular
branch very much, can any o’ thee gentlemen informeth me as to why we are
resorting t’this?”
The other man dressed the same replied to his inquiry,
“Indeed, I doth not holdeth this branch in high regard either. I am much
more an admirer o’ Heriotza’s senior branch, their involvement in the economic
side o’ the management o’ the factories and the fresh approach to balancing the
economy is a breath o’ fresh air that deserves much more support than the
lacklustre o’ future nobodies on this branch.”
“True” the third one said, but then followed with the actual explanation.
“If yee would have followed the news on the Household local news channel in
thy spare time away from the workshops, yee would have known that the bride
was involved in a scandal a few years ago when she ran away from the
wedding, citing reasons such as ‘not feeling ready’ fo’ the responsibility and
wishing ‘t’be free’. Heriotza was merciful and her punishment was an absence
o’ dowry. As a matter o’ fact, she was supposed t’marry with a cousin whose
parents failed t’produce the required number of children…”
“Disgusting! Such a whiny selfish spoiled brat! A stain on the integrity o’
the Household” said the second man.
 “How did she findeth the groom? He’ll be adopted tonight into the
Household and then marryeth her! And may I asketh thee why thou art so
familiar with the matter?” the first one asked.
“’Tis a guilty pleasure o’ mine t’watch more dramatic lines and branches
fo’ the sheer entertainment value o’ it. I’m sure yee will understand sirrah, as
thee was younger back in the day as well.” he began explaining, “Recently I’ve
seen the reports on TV o’ the miracle o’ her stumbling into an orphan, a living
Househead with no descendants, willing t’join us. Blind luck, in my opinion.”
“Remarkable!” the first man said. “This is the point where the situation
turneth intriguing! I will follow from anon on the news reports on this branch
just fo’ him. Who knows how broken or wise the tough life has turned him?
He’s formed in the image o’ the generation that formed out great Househeads,
Heriotza, Keyssure, Wergethory, Wushon and so many other great men! Maybe
he’ll wake up and pulleth the branch on his shoulders away from mediocrity,
though I possesseth mine own reservations if anyone ever could.”
Aidan contrasted this with other things he was eavesdropping. Some
Tunics shared their opinion, others were more lenient, but overall, it seemed
people were happy for Ira. He figured that all the thousands knew something
about her, be it only the existence or a surprisingly detailed biography,
depending on how much they liked her. The higher class the Tunic was, as he
could tell by the colours, the less likely they were to know or approve of her.
Checking back on her, he noticed that the initial man left and now she
was busy writing on something with three pairs of eager eyes praying on her.
“Canst thou eke sign this album?” one of them asked as Ira handed over
the thing she was writing on to the girl in front of her. He noticed it was just a
different album.
“Of course! Giveth it!” and she did the same.
“Thanketh thee, I really loveth thy work, this music rocks! I puteth it on
repeat in mine headphones each time I getteth bored o’ casting steel down in the
South.” the girl said gratefully.
“’Tis a pleasure t’be part o’ your life! Anon yee can go and get these
albums signed by Zuzen, he’s over there!” she pointed in his direction.
“Yay, he’s mine own favourite, no offence! I have so many questions
t’ask since I didn’t findeth him last time we were all at a wedding!” replied the
man in the group and the three left.
 Aidan made eye contact with Ira’s tired and resentful eyes and she
instantly ordered,
“Finally, they’re gone!” Ira cried out in a whisper. “Let’s go to the
dressing room before someone more deranged comes here. Also, don’t even get
me started on those albums, just imagine you didn’t see that.” she warned him
defensively.
“At least they’re on Zuzen’s head now… Indeed, considering Heriotza is
not here yet and I scared literally nobody except you with this abominable
snowman outfit, yeah, it’s better to go.”
As they were making their way back down the flight of stairs, a brown
Tunic grabbed Aidan by the shoulder and congratulated him for getting married
in his own way,
“T’speak as one man to the other, I might suffer from a lack o’ feeling,
but I knoweth a good one when I seeth it. Our family produceth quality, no
jokes there!” and he began to laugh while Aidan forced himself to break free
and together with Ira tried to lose him in the crowd, which they succeeded.
The two retreated and agreed not to leave before Heriotza’s arrival was
announced. Their attention was distracted by the sound of someone exiting the
closet.
“Shit, I can explain!” he yelled and then actually seeing the people in
front of him the reaction changed,
“Woah!” and then put his hand on his heart as he calmed down “By
Elysion, you scared the shit nuggets out of me, milk face!” the man explained.
“It’s just you two, phew!” he said relieved. “I thought I would get into trouble,
but it’s just you. Alright.”
Aidan smiled proudly, managing to scare someone, but Ira was way less
amused by the man in the closet.
“What the fuck are you doing in that closet?! I’m storing my clothes in
there, Igo!” she yelled furiously, ready to jump at his neck.
“I can explain! It’s not what it looks like- um… er…” he stared to stutter
before changing his stance on the matter, “No, who am I kidding, I can just tell
you. I was looking for some Yukai or even Feli… Doomsland, some Khala
would do the trick too if I found enough cigars! But I see neither cloud man nor
mizz sparrow have any sign of culture.”
 “Say that again!” Ira challenged him and grabbing him she slammed him
against the closet. “That’s too much, little shit, not you too!”
Surprised by her outburst of anger, Aidan called her out on being
irrational and put himself between them and managed to do separate them as Ira
let Igon’s shattered body go. He was a weak man, with little muscle mass, thin
with even his fat melted away, polarly opposite to Zuzen’s, and all over his
arms and legs there were marks of injections.
“First of all, Irakasle,” he began his terms of surrender, using her full
name on purpose to infuriate her, “it’s Igon!”
“Fine!” she replied aggressively and intimidatingly, so that she would
loose as little self-esteem admitting defeat by saying, “I have nothing to offer
you, Igon, please kindly fuck off.”
She was a second away from snapping again, but Igon’s reply where be
also backed out prevented it,
“Alright, Ira. You don’t have anything either?” he asked turning his head
towards Aidan.
“I’m…” he began slowly and then finished the rest of the sentence in a
hurry, out of a single breath, “gonna sneak in somewhere else I shouldn’t be and
try to find something.” and then continued with the peace negotiations. “I’m no
fool, you never liked having all your cousins knocking you over the head with
their lives, but I guess not even having someone you like around you or having
to stay with the guests out of pure courtesy and tradition can stop you from
running away. Shouldn’t be surprising, considering your history.”
“What are you trying to say?” she asked him on the edge of her patience,
clinging her hand into a first with barely controlled rage.
“I’m saying that I don’t care. You should be with the guests just like I
shouldn’t be looking for an injection. Neka is responsible for me tonight, so he
must be running all over the place trying to find me. We each go on our own
more or less planned destructive paths.” he related, emphasizing in such a way
as to let Ira know hers was the unplanned path. “All I ask is that you don’t know
where I am and you’ve not seen me, just like I didn’t see you. Deal, Ira?” and he
bowed in front of her, staying in that position until she bowed back, accepting
the offer,
“Yeah, Igo…n.”
And as such the departed, shouting as he left the door,
 “Welcome to the family, egg-head!”
Aidan was baffled by what had just happened and had several questions
to ask her. They took seats on the pair of revolving chairs and started talking,
Ira still breathing heavily.
“What just happened? I’ve never seen you so violent… What’s wrong?”
“He’s just a general piece of shit with no life and future, it’s nothing. That
rotten worm guts of a man shouldn’t make me lose my temper like that; I agree.
He’s not worth it!” and said spitefully, with eyes burning of hatred then spat on
the floor. The next moment, her state of mind seemed to change completely,
back to more friendly and carefree version of her.
“Oh, look, silly me, I got my feathers all messed up, can you pass me the
brush, please?”
Aidan was terrified by the sudden shift in mood. Locking eye contact
with her and not breaking it, he reached for the brush and gave it to her.
“Yeah… Those feathers sure be a mess, in fact yes…”
“What? The thing happened in the last, it’s better not to dwell on it. Now
cheer up, you’re gonna get adopted and married tonight!” she advised him with
a high-pitched voice, trying to sound as cute as possible.
“Alright.” he lied and then thought to himself, “Intriguing… This might
be a hard egg to crack properly, I have to be careful to find out what’s
happening…”
Looking for a new subject of conversation, he asked something that was
on his mind,
“Was he just bullshitting or do the customs really say that we should be
there?”
“Well… Now that I’m fixing my looks, no, we don’t have to be there. It’s
not illegal to go away, it’s just rude… But I don’t care. I don’t like to speak to
all those strangers.”
“They’re family, not strangers! And they seemed to be pretty nice people
in general, and it doesn’t seem that bad to have someone to chat with. I don’t
see the problem.”
“You don’t see it.” she began explaining, brushing herself with just a little
more pressure. “Technically they are family, but family goes as close as you
actually know the people. I see their faces at evets like weddings and funerals
once or twice, they are no different from strangers on the street. I don’t know
them! Imagine if someone randomly came up to you on the street saying that
you give him motivation to work every day, or came to congratulate you on
something you either hate, aren’t proud of, or don’t do anymore. It’s not nice,
it’s fucking creepy! Like I don’t know what they want from me. Most likely
they won’t hurt me, but it takes only so long to find a desperate loser ready to
do anything.”
She took a short break and when she resumed explaining, her brushes
were gentle again,
“And then on top of that you have to listen to them, and they don’t
understand that you’re not interested or want to do something else. They’ll just
keep on telling you like you care, and you gotta be all polite and fancy and keep
a smile on… creepy and exhausting.”
“You got a point; I have to say. But on the other hand, you can just fake it
for a while, it’s not like this happens every day. It’s a good idea to thank the
people who are working to keep your luxurious lifestyle afloat, isn’t it?”
“You are mistaken on several levels.” she said on a tone that
communicated her steel confidence. “You fake it now, and every day. One of
them at a time, they can come and visit for three days. That’s the small holiday
they get to visit their most beloved branch. I’ve been having guests like that
every day, a different one after every three days from the factories, workshops,
commercial ships or wherever. I’ve been avoiding them, and you’ve been lucky
enough not to bump into one of them while visiting. Fake it now, fake it every
day, fake your marriage, fake the way you talk, fake everything ‘til you end up
like fucking Zuzen. Igo’s better, but he’s still… er… annoying.”
Aidan had a lot to unpack there as he analysed the new information,
“Alright… So, the last part was a lie, pretty obvious, she must have been
pretty emotional and honest with what she said before in order to not be able to
plan ahead and hide the lie better.” And then asked her, “What do you mean by
‘end up like Zuzen’? I thought he’s always been an asshole.”
“Yeah, he’s always been, as the firstborn and a man, he’s always been
treated as superior and as such he grew to be a spoiled snob. It’s just that earlier
he was a better kind of snob that had less things to criticise me for. His past self
would hate him too. Anyway, I digress, this is only one level you are wrong on.
Prepare for the next!”
“Oh, birdsnakes!” he thought.
 “I suppose you’re not that much into the economy, are you? That’s what I
thought” she said not letting him reply, but she was right, so it didn’t really
matter. “Neither am I, but one day I happened to overhear Zuzen’s tutor telling
him that actually the profits from selling the manufactured goods are actually
the main source of income. My tutor told me the exact opposite, that it’s the
salaries of the workers. Listen, I’m not the brightest student ever, but I’m not
stupid by any means.”
Aidan agreed on the inside and Ira stopped brushing her feathers, taking a
seat again.
“Well, I have always had a lower mark at the Economics Exam than
Zuzen. Always. My theory is that he’s been trained to manage the family
business one day. So no, when I’m thanking them for the ‘sacrifice’ I am
thankful for a silver spoon instead of a silver-plated spoon. Big difference…”
“I guess you learn something new every day!” he replied, trying to do
some math from his head based on averages to see it that stood up. It depended
very much on how much money the sells produced, so it was plausible. “Well…
Yeah, but still, three days a month to see your beloved ones? That’s horrible. I
used to have four days a month off work. Sam had a whole week usually.”
“Yeah, each Househead decides the number in accordance with the
employer. Sam’s must be pretty lenient.”
“But so was the case at Exelor’s with almost everyone, at least a week
off. Even that is little, considering that they don’t commute, but live in
apartments worse than mine, so they get to enjoy all those seven days.”
“It’s work in the Capital, of course they get that ‘privilege’. The three
days here are just the practical part. In reality they also have about a week, but
getting from Haktun to here can take a while until you book a plane.”
“Poor people… It’s so sad to be trapped so far away, working to give the
best for your descendants and they hide from you… I don’t know how they
don’t go insane!”
“But they do! They know all about me from news broadcasted locally to
their apartments down there, but there are hundreds of descendants. They will at
some point have to go at someone they don’t know and ask around to see who
they are celebrating. And then they act like they’ve been best friends with you
their whole life. And even the ones who follow you… I can’t control what the
news will tell about me. They don’t know what I think, what I like, how I am…
They just think they know me! Some of them go full insane, like the perv that
got you by the shoulder, I heard that!”
“Well, yeah, that’s where I also draw the line… But if they didn’t have to
live most of their life in such isolation, they wouldn’t get so overly attached to
for all intents and purposes, strangers. I think it’s unfair for them. And most
really believe that they are bringing the income…”
“That’s the case for us, don’t generalise so fast! I don’t know, it’s
probably the case for the majority of cases, just not here. It’s awkward to see
someone who doesn’t know you, pretends they do, and behave like you know
and care about them back. Why do you think none of them introduced
themselves? They just assume you know!”
“Still, I don’t believe it’s their fault, and a little more tolerance on your
part would be welcome.” he said and saw how she began to frown, so he hurried
to finish telling his point “Don’t get me wrong, I totally see where you are
coming from too. I believe that they should learn to control their emotions as
well, and realise when a descendant is as much of a stranger as the next person.
It must hurt to see that, to start being forgotten by your own children… Maybe
that’s one of the reasons they get so overly-attached?” he asked rhetorically,
managing to return to a sympathetic view on them.
“Yeah, it’s complex and whatever, they can do whatever, just leave me
out of it. I don’t want to play this stupid game, is that wrong? I accept the
consequences, neon light as just as good as chandeliers for me.”
“Well, as long as you accept the consequences, it is fine, according to me,
the most politically and socially savvy person to have ever existed in the history
of the Lavonian Association!” he said and then went up to her to give her a kiss.

Chapter 11: Question escape

Heriotza’s arrival was announced loudly a few minutes before he made

his appearance, so everybody knew to wait in silence at their place, indicated by
bronze plates on the tables. Normally Ira and Aidan would sit somewhere far
away from the Househead’s throne, but they were allowed to sit on his right and
left, just for this occasion. The rest of the family, including Zuzen, Igo, Neka
and Ira’s parents were sitting as usual, pretty far from them.
His entrance wasn’t particularly grandiose, except that a cameraman was
following him, and the recording was transmitted live to a small screen on each
person’s table, to see and hear him better. All the way he walked to the throne
he kept silent, and the entire Household too. Aidan found the lack of life in a
room full the brim with thousands of guests extremely unsettling, and felt like
an invisible force was weighting him down, as not to sound or stand out at all,
even though his outfit didn’t help.
When he finally reached his seat, instead of sitting down, he did like
Armin Kleinstein did at the Gathering that started this, and got on top of the
table. There he was for all to see, an old man with an old scar on his cheek,
bald, yet with a long beard and impeccable teeth, dressed in a purely purple
tunic. He held his hands high and open wide, as he began talking with a friendly
and relaxed voice. Only the synchronised live transmissions on the small
screens made his voice sound any more ominous and thundersome.
“Mine own children! We have gathered today here fo’ not one, but two
special occasions. Yond hard thought, meditation and consideration, I decided
that the man on mine own right is t’be accepted int’our souls, as a brother and a
son!”
The whole crowd cheered blindly and applauded in the moment he
paused before resuming,
“And the second occasion is the correction o’ our sister and daughter
Irakasle from the stray path, and her spiritual union with our newest fellow
houseman. Let us cheereth and rejoiceth in their honour as they doth in the spirit
o’ their Tunic!”
A robotic, identical copy of the cheering that had just taken place before
followed, and Aidan felt alone and exposed as he did not take part in the
cheering, feeling the force order him to do it and conform with everybody else.
“On a more informal note,” Heriotza added, “I see some new faces
around the extremities of the semi-major axis. I say hello to my children who’ve
just reached the age of attendance!” and he waved his hands in their direction,
as Aidan heard distance cries of happiness. “Now, for you to know me better, I
apologise for what I am about to do.”
He then morphed in a younger version of himself in front of everyone,
back to the looks of his twenties, with long black hair, a thin moustache and
three scars on his sunburned face, running across it over his eyes and nose.
“This is the way I really looked, 2100 years ago, when the Great War was
a part of daily life. I prefer the look I had a few days before my death because of
the wisdom I had accumulated and the healed wounds.” and then morphed back
to his older self. “Anon, let us leaveth the past beyond the reaches o’ our own
memories and commence the celebrations. I have already madeth thee waiteth
enough with mine own parliamentary matters, fo’ which I apologiseth.”
Aidan knew it was his moment. He took was offered a flag depicting the
flag of his family by a servant. It was a green oak tree on a green and blue
background and he entered the inner circle. Together with Heriotza they headed
for the centre of the room. Behind them followed an entourage consisting of
someone holding a torch, servant holding a golden cup and a silver dagger with
golden guard and handle, next to the cameraman and Ira’s father.
In the centre, he bowed before Heriotza and held the flag above his head.
He started reciting lowly a poem he didn’t understand, in an ancient ceremonial
language, one that had no rhyme, yet had dactylic hexameter. Ira told him it was
a story of two rivers meeting with the smaller one becoming a tributary, yet
integral part of the large one. On its way towards the ocean, it pushed through
deserts and swamps alike, before melting away and becoming one with the
ocean, where the Seagle and Birdsnake were awaiting.
Heriotza took then the flag out of his hands to Aidan’s relief, as he began
to sweat and his arms to ache. He then burned the flag with the torch and its
aches fell inside the golden cup as the flame enveloped Heriotza’s hand.
“And anon, thee hast gotten a new past!” he proclaimed, taking his own
flag out of his tunic and laying it over Aidan’s shoulders. It was very different,
having a hand holding a bloody grenade on a white background.
Aidan’s heart began to beat harder as now he knew what was about to go
down. Heriotza took the dagger and Ira’s father came closer. He grabbed the
dagger by the blade and Aidan did the same, holding together hands with the
blade between their palms. Aidan wanted to scream when her father pushed the
blade, but he held his composure and found the necessary strength to push back,
the dagger cutting deeper into their hands as they bled in the cup. He was
blinking fast to dry his watery eyes when Heriotza decided it was enough,
“And anon, thee hast gotten a new blood!” he exclaimed with more soul
than last time.
It was time for Aidan to stand as still as he could, ignoring his pain. At
least they provided him a bandage and waited for with to bandage himself, a
favour Ira’s father was also given.
Heriotza’s fingers became larger and larger as they came closer to
Aidan’s eyes. He kept his eyes wide open and Heriotza managed to gently take
away the white contact lens. He finally threw them in the golden cup and
proclaimed with a vigour he didn’t show he was capable of yet, thundering his
voice in the entire room,
“And anon thee hast gotten a new spirit!” and the echo of his voice
repeated the saying twice over.
It was Aidan’s time to shine and say his only line in the ceremony, trying
to mimic the power of Heriotza’s declaration,
“I have been reborn, as Aidan Freedomfighter!”, but he managed to
create only a single echo, and his voice almost cracked pronouncing the first
syllable of his name. He had tears in his eyes, and the crowd cheered for him,
his image being transmitted for once on the devices instead of Heriotza’s. Little
did they know he was actually spiteful at that moment.
“Look at them, all of them! Cheering, ignoring my pain, making me fake
this… What the Doomsland, Aidan, stop being a bitch, it’s just a small cut!” he
tried to convince himself to enjoy the shining moment of glory he had, but he
couldn’t, “Damn, how can they have so little empathy and applaud that their
Household got a new member, when he’s suffering? I can’t move my fingers…
This bandage needs to be changed already, it’s all bloody! Shit, that’s a deep
cut… Fuck it, let them have fun, their lives suck anyway.” and then asked for a
replacement from the servant, which he got. Curiously, Ira’s father was just fine
like that, his bandage barely spotted by blood.
“Motherfucker cheated, the bastard!” Aidan thought. “Fuck him, no
wonder he raised a piece of shit like Zuzen.”
The ending part of the adoption ceremony involved Aidan having to go
by each table and let himself be touched by each of the thousands of members
on his white-painted exposed skin. With each new touch more and more of it
went down, and by the end he was clean, with irritated skin and a few bruises
here and there. Heriotza then returned to hosting the event,
“We shall, in a few minutes, followeth with the wedding. Let us rejoiceth
and entertaineth our own selves while the merry groom getteth ready.”
It was time to head back to the dressing room, where with military speed
he changed from the white suit into a black scale body and leg armour with
rhombus grey designs on it. Just like with Ira, one of its sides had an irregularly
shaped opening that revealed his bare skin, with the exception of a spot of red
paint around the upper half.
“Shit… At least I do it once and then won’t work for years…” he
comforted himself as he put on a mask similar to Ira’s, with the exception of
being it composed of green scales and the wig on top of it having red and green
feathers. He wore no shoes, only long black socks.
All dressed, he burst in the room, and headed for the centre of the room
again. When she saw him, Ira quickly joined him. Heriotza did some more
introductions of what was about to happen and gave his blessing. Now he just
watched as the two began dancing without proper music, only nature sounds on
the background. Ira got her own first act, in which she did the complex dancing
and Aidan just circled around her, and then the roles were reversed in the
second act. The third and final one had both of them doing complex dance
moves together, only for it to end with both of them side by side, the two areas
on their body showing their skin forming together the shape of a human and the
red spots on their skin their heart.
They returned to their seats, were Aidan found a pill on his table. He
knew it was a painkiller, so he swallowed it but was left wondering who had put
it there when Ira smiling at him cleared the confusion, and he smiled back, as
not to interrupt Heriotza from telling his goodbye speech.
“Dear children, anon has come the unfortunate time o’ mine own
departure, fo’ yee all knoweth too well the great responsibility that cometh with
being part o’ the democratic machine that runneth our own organisation. I shall
excuse mine own self, if you all agree in unanimity, fo’ I am a parent above
all!” and the crowd started yelling and shouting in approval.
To Aidan’s surprise, Heriotza didn’t leave immediately, but instead put
his hand on his shoulder and told what has on his mind,
“I was thinking… What gift is proper for my newest member of my
Household? I was thinking… revising ideas… but couldn’t decide. With such a
dilemma on my hand, word might have slipped out and the Minister of Internal
Affairs asked more about you. You and my daughter met her yesterday, am I
correct?” he asked jovially.
“Actually, sirrah, he’s the second oldest. We’ve just received news that
17 minutes ago a new member was born to Ilanx and Himelia.” a servant
intervened to correct him.
“Thank you. Now let’s get to our fortunate couple.” he dismissed the
servant, signalling with his hand to leave them alone.
“Yes, we did, at the police station once a few months ago, if I recall
correctly.” he replied after a quick search through his memory.
 “Well, she gave me an idea. I already talked with your branch manager,
Agure, and he’ll have the responsibility of assuring you get your gift. The most
honourable Minister informed me that you’ve been acquainted with an actor.
The two talked, and your presence is required, so to say, at the Icetowers in the
studio. As a bonus, I’m making sure the address of your family at the Icetowers
will be…” and he paused, pretending to think of a proper word, “declassified,
partially and temporarily, so that you get to meet them on your stay.”
“Most honourable sirrah, I canst not be more grateful. I am forever in
debt to thy kindness!” and he complemented his thanking by getting out of his
seat and kneeling before him, with his head as low as he could.
“It is not necessary for you to do as such. After all, I have 35 years of
negligence to redeem for, my son. As of you, Iraskle,” he turned his attention
and continued coldly and almost spitefully, “Your wedding present is,
intrinsically, the wedding in and of itself. Be satiated with as much. You are not
to follow him on this expedition, but future ones are not denied to you, provided
you do your womanly duty.”
“I understandeth.” she said, kneeling too. The respect he was imposing
prevented her blood from boiling with anger, but she was still thinking of it as
unfair. She was in no position to oppose his verdict though, so she complied.
“You shall take a plane with other Tunics to the Icetowers. In about a
month when the policemen will come for Agure and Estake you will go with
them. You’ll return with one of the cruise ships after you’ll be done. The
paperwork will be done for you, as a fellow living member of the House. Just
enjoy yourself!”
He then retreated, followed by his servants, not returning their goodbyes.
Before leaving through the door, he stopped for a second to raise his hand,
without looking back, and then left for the privacy of the corridor. A few
seconds later, Neka excused himself in spite of Agure’s persistence, and
followed the same path to the corridor, disappearing after the corner, only to
return after a few minutes with heavier footsteps than before.
In the meantime, food started to be served to the living folk. Aidan had a
hard time enjoying anything not being able to move his hand properly, and had
to change his bandage again, the dance leaving his wound prone to opening.
The good news from Househead Heriotza warmed his soul. He seemed a nice
enough person behind the formal mask, a busy man for sure. He also couldn’t
bare to see the jealousy on Ira’s face, so he made himself the butt of his jokes
for the rest of the night. By sunrise it looked like the magic had worked and she
was only half as jealous.
It was sunset and Aidan was looking at the yard from the balcony of Ira’s
apartment. His face was remorseful, watching over the space between the
towers get more and crowded as guests flooded in to take part at the Gathering.
“Hey, what are you doing there? Are you done?” the familiar voice of Ira
called out.
“Yes. I’m just looking around at everyone.” he responded with a low,
bored voice. His mind was somewhere else and she could sense that. She joined
him, resting her elbows on the edge of the barrier too.
“Really? You’ll be wearing that?” she asked indignantly.
“Yes. I’m looking around at everyone and… I’m still not one of them.
It’s been a month, but I don’t feel any different. I look at them and I don’t see
me. I still have almost nothing in common with them…” he pause to
contemplate on his condition for a second, before letting out a heavy sigh and
asking, “When will this feeling end?”
“Yeah, I know you’re having a hard time getting used to the change and
all…” She began, her voice betraying that she knew but didn’t understand. “But
I don’t think that wearing a tunic at a Gathering helps. You should wear normal
clothes at least now, but I see you don’t wear anything but tunics.” She
recommended.
“No, I told you, I won’t. You know, I wake up every morning before you,
Neka and the cook are the only ones awake by then, and they don’t sleep at all!”
He chuckled at his remark, while Ira was not amused. “Every day just doesn’t
feel right. I find myself walking around the yard, cooking… It’s repeating all
over again, it feels like working at Exelor’s. In addition, it feels wrong not to go
there, and I miss Sam… This is great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not…me.
Getting along with Neka is not enough, he’s nice when asking me what do I like
the most, what I love the most, what do I feel attached to the most, but it’s not
what I imagined, not enough.”
“But you went to visit him like a few days ago! You can focus on
whatever you want now, cook, read, try painting, try riding a horse, I don’t
know, just do something! And you’ll have something awesome to talk with the
others when you return from the Icetowers! Just try to change, it’s simple!
Begin by putting on some decent clothing. Neka didn’t go to the store for
nothing. Neither did the tailor that came by back then.”
 “You make it sound so easy, but it’s so hard. I know I saw Sam, but it’s
not the same. The feeling of going through something together, that solidarity is
gone. Fortunately, he still updates me on the office.” and pausing for an instant,
he resumed, “At least there’s that.” he concluded. “I wear this tunic to be honest
with myself. And I will change this style when I feel it doesn’t belong on me
anymore.” changing subject and recognizing the validity of her advice, he
added, “Let’s make a change and get down there, shall we?”
“Finally! Enjoy yourself a bit, I think you should have some Khala, for a
bigger change!” he tried to persuade him, with unexpected success.
“Hm… You know what, fuck it, sure!” he accepted, forcing himself to
follow with the advice in spite of not wanting to smoke. “Look at you, already
faking who you are, losing yourself to these pricks! She’s really got your
thought all tangled up, playing with you!” he thought, but fought back and
convinced himself to try at least that, “No! No, I… I can be different. Just
because I smoke doesn’t mean I’ll end up as an ungrateful piece of shit towards
hard-working Tunics. I deserve as much! I’m gonna do it!”
Passing through their bedroom, Aidan recalled at the sight of the bed the
first time he threw himself there, on the fluffy bouncy mattress, laughing
cheerfully, feeling overjoyed. But just as the bounces diminished, so did his
pleasure, until there was nothing. And where there was nothing, the only thing
that remained was the feeling of… foreignness. Dreadful foreignness.
And then Ira threw herself too by his side and everything was alright
again, the euphoria was back in its place, until the following morning when he
opened his eyes to a foreign ceiling in a foreign bed, with no alarm to shun
down. That was when trepidation punctured his heart and for a minute he just
stood there in disbelief, being careful not to wake her up as he left for the
bathroom and then kitchen.
When they got down, they looked for a group of people around their age
to talk with and hang out with. Aidan’s face paint was similar but differed from
the one at the Kleinstein Gathering. It still featured the dark wavy design on the
lower half, around the upper half still a lighter blue, but around his eyes there
were not clouds. Instead, a pair of moons found their place there, curbing
around his eyes, ready to swallow them. They were accompanied by stars on his
forehead, forming the constellation of Narseon, the forefather of the people and
founder of the city of Lanvos. He used his new-found freedom from the material
world to use more expensive paints. The moons and the stars now shined in the
darkness of the night. Beneath his chin there was no longer a red cross, but a
mosaic of red nuances, not forming a greater image, just existing together to
form chaos. His hair was also different, by simply existing as he didn’t cut it for
the painting like he did before.
Ira’s face paint was also based on the previous one, with the exception of
adding another two red bands going horizontally over her cheeks in parallel
with the ones over her eyes.
After walking around for a while, they found some people and started
talking with them,
“So yeah, unfortunately she couldn’t come to be with us today, she has to
take care of the kids.” one dressed in a t-shirt with the edges cut in the shape of
flames said.
“What a sacrifice! My husband would understand, he always stays behind
at Gatherings to take care of the little ones. I appreciate him so much for that!” a
lady there added.
“Um… We take turns. Last time I stayed home.” the man explained
further. “I don’t think it’s fair for only one of us to get to have fun.”
“Oh…” she said, letting an awkward silence fall over the group before
breaking the newly-formed ice herself, “I mean, he’s fine with it, we…
communicate enough, I know he’s satisfied.”
“You do you, we’re not here to judge. As long as he’s contempt we shall
all share the feeling in this beautiful night!” Aidan inserted himself in the
conversation.
“What about you? How come you and the lady on your right, which I
assume is your spouse, are here?” another one with painted like a tiger on the
face, but with the colours inverted inquired with bitter curiously.
“We’re newlyweds, we just entered the game.” Ira clarified cheerfully.
The rest of the group started laughing and the closest to them even patted
them in the shoulders.
“Oh! How sweet! You have still so much to learn… Believe me, enjoy
every moment and hold on to sleep like its gold. You’ll miss it!” the lady said
in-between a compassionate sympathetic laughter.
“Oh yeah, it’s never been the same ever since. It’s like ending your life,
pausing I might say, for a while. Don’t worry though, the older they get the less
you have to look after them, the less they devour your time, energy and
patience. The tutors really make a difference!” another one that had been silent
so far added.
“Indeed! I wish upon you to achieve your reproductive requirements on
the first try. Which are…?” the tiger-face asked.
“Oh, not much really, simply a boy and a girl.” Ira replied to his inquiry
without holding back a second.
“Good. I had the back luck of being asked for two sons, but I only have
one and a girl is on the way. Too late to turn back now, ha!” the one with a
flame shirt joked as the edges of his shirt waved in the wind.
“Another piece of advice!” the white swan girl also said, not wanting to
miss out, “A healthy little small dose of Khala puts them to sleep fast and
sound.” and winked after she said it, but afterwards immediately got a new idea
which she rushed to get out, “Oh, and you better be satisfied with how you’re
looking now, because it will never be the same afterwards…”
“I think it’s fine, I likely myself just enough not to be attached to this
body once I die. It would be awkward to ask people to carry your hair
around…” she explained, while really disagreeing with herself.
“Heh, you gotta do what you gotta do, am I right?” the flame t-shirt man
concluded.
“Yeah… We do, don’t we…” Ira added, suppressing a protest against
such a philosophy, “That’s all you can say, ‘gotta do what you gotta do’? And
live when, more exactly? Do what you want when? After you can’t feel and
become a shell of yourself, a working slave, huh? Idiots. It’s like hearing Zuzen
all over again… just shut up! Parents… I don’t know how I’ll get out of this,
but it worked with the marriage somehow, so I’ll find a way.” she thought and
then continued to converse on other topics with them.
Someone suddenly called from behind them and ordered as rudely as
socially acceptable,
“He’, fuckin’ phantom, go get yo’self some purpose and bring me some
bloody decent, delicate and fresh red wine, not this dry acidic white piss!” the
man shouted at Aidan and then spilled the wine in his glass on the grass beneath
him, adding a good spit on it, just to be sure the message was clear.
As he turned to face him, the man pulled back the hand he had extended
at him once he was his face was painted. He apologized more out of courtesy
than anything else and then looked around to redirect his indignation towards an
actual Tunic.
“Such a shame for him, I wonder how could something like that happen. I
expected better service from the Household. All in all, we’re at the
Freedomfighters!” the swan-lady argued.
“Yeah, I can’t believe they would be so inconsiderate!” Aidan agreed and
then looked with hidden amusement at Ira, who played along.
“I think we should talk to the host and make sure something like that
won’t happen again!” she added vigorously, with a conviction running as deep
as the ocean in her voice and gestures.
“I don’t think it’s worth to bother that much for them, honestly. They
aren’t what they used to be anyway.” the black and blue tiger followed suit.
“I might say you’re bringing me news, gents! I didn’t know who the host
was ‘til now, I was just walking around the neighbourhood when I saw that a
neighbour was preparing for a Gathering. Next thing you know I was back
home, getting ready to be here. Life is truly wonderful with its unpredictability
sometimes, gotta love it!” the flamy-shirt said in a joking manner that forced a
small laugh out of everyone.
“So anyway, what do you think of the guys over there in Centre 1?
They’ve been there for over three months, and they just keep going!” Aidan
changed the subject. Ira looked at them with a predatory curiosity, eager to see
some arguing and disagreement.
“Don’t you dare speak of those blinking idiots in my presence!” the quiet
one exploded like a volcano. “Those good for nothing fools are just slowing us
down! So many of them should be working, but they just sit their on asses
begging for the world to change for them like the pitiful daisy they see
themselves as!” he borderline yelled as the people next to him stepped back to
make room for his whip-like arms to express his inner frustration.
“Meanwhile,” he resumed after freezing with the right arm in the air,
“meanwhile good people, Tunics from my family, have to stay away from home
and keep the savage shithole that is Cassan running! I’m telling you that’s not
fair! Lazy fat asses, that’s what they are, all of them!”
The fury and passion with which he insulted not only the protesters, but
the city of Cassan too ignited a fire in the heart of the swan-lady that bit back
with her own insult,
 “What!? Cassan is a shithole to you, fuckface? You’re just an ignorant
shithead, uncapable to comprehend the simple concept that the remake is better
than the original! I bet your stupid lazy-gut head hasn’t even seen Cassan! It’s
ten times more civilized that this collection of villages you call ‘Capital’!”
“Nobody told me we have a barbaric Hakdan among us! Why don’t you
go back your beloved Ashland?! Go there and choke on the factory dust if you
love it so much!” he replied on the brink of violence, full out shouting at her.
Then tiger-face intervened to prevent the escalation into a brawl by being
the first to call the shots and punching the volcanic-tempered guy to the ground
in one swift hit.
“Not to disagree on the barbarity of the protesters, but you were getting to
dangerous. Have a good day!” and then he ran away, losing his track in the
crowd.
On top of this, the girl also spit on him in retribution for the insults, and
then explained,
“Just so you know, I’m just as Lavonian as scum like you, unfortunately.
It’s just that I have respect for my ancestors and give credit where it is due,
unlike ‘thyself’, motherfucker!”
Following this incident, the group split up and Ira was sharing her
opinion on the fight. She was taking in lightly, while Aidan was rather uptight
about it.
“C’mon, ‘stupid lazy gut-head’? What’s that even supposed to mean?
Who comes up with this non-sense? Ha-ha!” she said, touching her stomach as
she laughed.
“I told you, it’s not funny. It’s sad and pathetic.” he insisted on the way
he felt about it.
After her laughter died down, she saw the disappointment in his eyes and
started feeling… guilty about her making fun of the situation.
“Oh… I thought the ‘pathetic’ part of the thing was funny… Eh…” and
then she found something she was confident they were on the same page with,
“At least the guy was a kinda deserved it.”
“Um… Yeah, he did.” Aidan honestly replied, thinking just for a second
that it might have been just a little too much, but figured it wasn’t the case.
“Yep… Definitely not wanna be one of them.” he further thought to himself.
 They spent the rest of the night having fun, dancing and talking to other
people, usually breaking from the group once a quarrel started. Aidan was
careful not to get too wasted drinking as he needed to be in shape for the next
morning, but kept his promise and didn’t abstain from smoking. Later into the
night, on the stage that had been constructed for this occasion a play was
performed. It was the myth of Narseon enacted for everyone to see. Once the
Seagle showed up to him and prophesied that he would found a nation if he
sailed over the sea due south, Aidan wondered how they would play the second
act, where he has to prove his worth by listening to the Tunics of his elders
while on board, because the whole act was set at sea.
To his surprise, behind the curtain there lay hidden an enormous water
tank that had been assembled on the spot out of glass panes. It even had a
primitive raft floating on its top were the actor portraying Narseon and the rest
of his family were seated. The villain was in sight of everyone but the people on
the raft, a sea monster half man and half-fish waiting to attack at the bottom on
the tank with the air tank hidden in the algae that covered his body.
A storm was simulated with a system of fans to make wind and a paddle
hidden in the decor of a ruined ship at the bottom of the sea to create waves.
Some of the water, in its mindless turbulent agitation escaped the glass prison
and splashed the first few rows of spectators with water. They paid little regard
to the clothes being destroyed or the makeup compromised, but took pride in
being affected by the play and took it as immersive realism when they
discovered the water was salty.
After the play, Aidan decided it was time to go to sleep. After all,
tomorrow would be a busy day, having to take the plane and fly such the
distance over to the Icetowers.
“You’re going already?” Ira asked.
“Yeah… I don’t even know why I stayed up so long. I did some Khala
and I already know the story: big storm, Seagle says throw overboard the
second eldest or they all get killed by scary sea monster, they do, storm ends,
they get to Lanvos, fight off some dudes, and start the nation. In the sequel two
brothers have a fight and so Lanvos and Hakdan are a thing, blah, blah, blah.
I’m tired and tomorrow is an important day. I’m off to bed.”
“Everybody knows the story; it’s about taking part and pretending to act
cultured before getting piss-drunk. I see you were serious about not getting
wasted. Alright, go ahead! I’ll join you a bit later.”
 With that being said, he got back inside and washed his face of the paint
before laying down there again, with the eyes fixed at the ceiling.
“Anima, why am I not happy? Maybe I’m only anxious about going there
and meeting them, and afterwards I’ll feel better and lose myself with the crowd
here, be one with them, you know what I mean?”
“No, I don’t. An error occurred or input was invalid. Please repeat the
command.” the robot replied with its feminine soft and gentle voice, so out of
place with its mechanic response.
“It’s not like I can’t be, it’s just… I don’t know, once the rush goes away,
you’re left in the middle of strangeness and you ask yourself how you got there.
You still don’t know what I mean?”
“I assume you entered via the door and not the window. Am I wrong?”
Anima replied, amusing Aidan with its literal understanding of his words.
“I entered through the window… The door was locked. And now I have
to live here, because the window is closed too and I can’t open it. And it’s not
bad, I like it. I think I just need more time.”
“The recording of the surveillance camera on the balcony shows does not
have you, while you were caught on the one at the entrance, hall, staircase,
corridor and the one in this room. The door is not locked and the window is
closed. Do you wish it to be open?” the robot asked.
“Doomsland, no! Keep it closed!” Aidan thought a little more before he
asked Anima something else, “I imagine prisoner must feel like this too. Always
wanting to go outside and once they are free; the world has changed and the
people don’t accept them. It’s easy to feel the misery is better. What do you
think? Am I a prisoner?”
“Sirrah Aidan Freedomfighter has a clear criminal record and has not
served time incarcerated. Yet.”. This made Aidan smile and chuckle, but not
loud enough for Anima to hear him.
“I detect no laughter. Disclaimer: I made a joke. Was the joke funny?”
“Yes, it was funny, I just didn’t laugh out loud. Please closed the lights,
would you?”
In the dark, his consciousness faded into an empty black void without a
dream to animate it. At that moment, despite being separated, he and Ira were
dancing on the same song under the same moon, ignoring the elephant in the
room of their mind, distracting themselves from the question ‘Now what?’ that
lurked behind every corner.

Chapter 12: Off we go!

In the morning he found himself by her side and quietly did his morning
routine and left for the kitchen were Neka had already prepared something for
him. His luggage had been prepared yesterday by him and Neka, but he couldn’t
find him anywhere, until he heard his voice talking over the phone from the
hallway,
“Everything is ready for smooth sailing. The news broadcast is done, it’ll
be broadcasted tomorrow at 3 p.m., I’ll make sure she’ll see it.” and then he
paused to hear the other man he was talking to before resuming, “One hundred
percent sure, he had a nice talk yesterday with her and still mentioned them,
attended the Gathering in them. I’m telling ya, I’m going there myself if I’m
wrong. Bye man!” and as he entered the kitchen he hung up and startling for a
second when seeing him.
“By Elysion, you scared me! I didn’t expect to see you here, you
overslept a little. That’s no big deal though, all you have to do is check the
packages and you’re ready to go. The plane leaves in three hours, but we’ll get
there in time.”
“Sure, I think I’m done with my luggage. Excellent sauce on these chips
by the way! You learned well!”
“Well, after three hundred years I think it’s more of a recalling of an old
memory, but you can believe whatever gets you going!” he said cheerfully, both
of them knowing it was a joke with a seed of truth in it.
“Who were you talking with? You sounded merry.” he noticed while
eating the breakfast.
“Just some report for local news, Zuzen wants to maintain his relations
with the company even when his House duties pile up on him.”
After finishing the breakfast, he washed the dish and inspected the
suitcases, packed to the brim with clothes, both warm, but also a few summer
robes and even the majority of his tunics.
 “It’s cold there, I bet they don’t have heating without being able to feel
temperature. I don’t think I need so many summer clothes. Especially tunics!”
he concluded his analysis.
“On the contrary, Aidan, it’s warm. They might not feel the cold, but the
furniture is wooden and they don’t like ice crystals forming on their walls.
You’ll need light robes.”
“But the tunics… I don’t want to be weird, if I think about it…” he
insisted, unsure what to do.
“You’ll need them, maybe even more! Remember your initial plan? What
changed? You wanted to have proof, so you took a few copies of documents
with you and the clothes to prove your story.”
“Yeah, but I don’t need all of them, do I?”
“You’re just nervous, calm down. Look, give me two of them and I’ll
take them back to your room. Is that alright?” he finally gave in.
Taking the two clothes, he pretended to take them back to his room, but
instead he went there and emptied the room of all the tunics he had, while
taking care not to wake Ira up. With all of them at hand, he took them to the
storeroom of the tower where he threw them in another briefcase and returned
to the kitchen with it.
“I also had to take some things for a lady that will accompany you on the
plane. She’s from this tower but forgot a few things when she came to pack her
things.” he justified the presence of the new briefcase. Seeing everything done,
he decided it was time to go to the airport in Suburb 7, where a private plane
would be stationed. “Off we go! Take my Artefact off the table and we can go.”
Aidan took the piece of rusty metal from the table and Neka drove the car
to the airport.
“I’m not coming with you on the plane and it’s less than a kilometre away
from his parking lot. You can leave the Artefact in the car.” he said and then
accompanied him through the corridors and queues, away from the commercial
flights of mostly Tunics flying to work in the South and a few living travellers,
to the private sector were Tunics headed to fly to their retirement home.
Security stopped them and asked for the visa to the Icetowers and tickets.
Neka didn’t have either but he got through still with his butler status.
“You seem pretty alive to me. What are you doing there?” a guard asked
Aidan with suspicion.
 Before he could even open his mouth, Neka replied in his place,
“It’s a long story, we don’t want to miss the plane, please let us through
already. I assure you gents, everything is fine.” he said quickly, with a sense of
urgency in his voice.
“He’s very rushed all of a sudden. I guess he must be stressed around the
Cleansing. Not long in the future it will be his turn to say goodbye. I’ll let this
slide, let’s just go to the damn plane.” he reasoned in his mind after the guards
let them pass.
“Thanks man, I appreciate your efforts, but there’s no need for you. I can
carry the briefcase; you can return and do what’s left to be done. I got it!” he
told Neka in front of the terminal at the edge of the ramp.
“No, there’s no need! Itzal, Zuzen’s cook, takes care of everybody’s
meals and needs this morning. I’ll only leave you after you successfully board
the plane.” he declined the offer.
Aidan didn’t mind his insistence and attributed it to him worrying for his
safety, as Neka’s last goodbye words were the distressed mutterings,
“Sure thing! Salute Ira on my part when you see her! I didn’t wake her
up, so we didn’t say goodbye or anything like that!” his last reply said, as he
entered the plane.
In the plane he was seated on a torture chair, the opposite of what a
normal flight experience was. It was tough, unpolished around the edges and
there was barely enough place for him to put his feet down. He gave up on
trying to sit normally on the chair and instead crossed his feet and sat on them.
“Damn, the only planes flying to the Icetowers are not designed with
living folks in mind. I guess I can sit like this. The safety belt is surely not going
to restrict my ability to do so, since there is none. I wonder why do they even
bother having chairs on a plane for Tunics. It’s not like they need them.” he
thought, as he saw that someone else was approaching. It turned out to be
Agure, wearing the same white tunic everybody on the plane wore, with the
notable exception of Aidan. He who would be sitting next to Aidan for the rest
of the journey.
“Congratulations on ty retirement, sirrah Agure Freedomfighter!” he
greeted him. Agure was not so eager to reply, saying on a fed-up tone,
“Most appreciateth wishes o’ goo-… I mean, yeah, thanks!” he changed
his speech to a non-formal one.
 “Thou caneth speak as thi art comfortable.” Aidan insisted not knowing
what caused such a change.
“I’m just not used to… speak so formally with you. No offense, but we’re
not exactly close, by any means. I usually speak formally to strangers, it’s a
reflex, developed out of habit. Years of management and hundreds of years of
being a Tunic do that to you.” he explained on an apologetic tone, as if
preparing to smoothen something harsh, “And please speak informally, it hurts
to hear you butcher the language like a cold-blooded murderer. Thanks.”
Slightly taken aback by this, he didn’t take it to heart and tried to find
something to talk about with his new seat neighbour.
“It’s alright… You don’t look too glad to be here. Is somebody missing?”
“No, my wife, Estake, is somewhere in the front, if that was what you
referred to. We don’t really talk to each other, after 800 years we got bored of
each other. We decided to separate each other when we got older, so that we
wouldn’t end up as each other’s Artefacts. I hope you realise that fate awaits
you too.” Agure replied on a fatalistic killer-mood tone and then changed
subject, “I don’t know half of the people on this plane, it’s mostly guys from
other branches of the family. I know some, they’re sitting more towards the
back, including Ira’s ancestors.”
“Then what’s wrong?” he kept pushing for an answer, seeing how he was
trying to change the subject by introducing Ira in the discussion.
“Oh, nothing. I just had something on my mind, but I can’t wait to relax
for the rest of my existence, really!” he replied cheerfully.
“Too cheerfully.” Aidan added in his mind. “I wonder if it would be
appropriate to press him into speaking as he avoids the topic. As long as he
makes me the fool, I’ll play the fool that doesn’t realise what his doing.” he
decided and then bluntly replied, “I’m not buying it. What was on your mind?”
“Oh, again, nothing important…” he dodged again on a dismissive voice,
but was hit by a serious stare coming from Aidan’s eyes, one screaming
‘Enough bullshit!’, to which he changed his tone to a similarly grim and serious
one, “… Nothing… Nothing that you’d understand with that breathing
mentality of yours.” he said, accidentally challenging him.
“Hm… Try me, if that deadpan emotionless mentally allows you, of
course. It’s alright to admit defeat. Now, what was on your mind again?” he
replied calmly and calculated.
 Instead of fighting back the harsh remarks and insults, Agure chuckled
and slowly clapped once,
“Oh, you’re good. You might breathe, but your mind is as dead as mine!
You keep your target, call out bullshit and choose your fights. I guess you
deserve to know.”
Aidan was surprised to hear that, and Agure picked that up.
“Yes, you never know when someone is actually testing you. You never
know when they are playing you. A puppet being played by a puppet played by
a puppet and so on. There’s always a bigger fish in the ocean. That’s the
problem. I supposed mister Heriotza would choose me as heir for when he
retires.” he unveiled the reason for his state. “Yet look at me, together with
every other branch manager this generation had to offer, on the plane to the
Icetowers. He must have tested me at some point when I was not even paying
attention. Or most likely it’s because of how I managed the situation of your
wife, if I am to be honest.”
“She told me some things about you, particularly how you always seem
tough and decided, but that’s not you. Is this what she was talking about?” he
asked, seeing the connection between these pieces of information.
“I know she saw through that character. The tough man, ruthless in
following the law, respecting tradition… in words. My actions told another
story when I was pleading Heriotza’s mercy through paperwork, so that she
would not get kicked out for her insolence. Ain’t it funny?” he asked himself
rather than Aidan, who instead patted his shoulder.
“Why did you do it? She’s not even your direct descendant… What made
her so special? Why risk inheriting the Househead position and managing over
5000 people? The prestige, the power, the influence… Why?” Aidan spoke out
loud Agure’s inner thoughts.
“I’d like to say I don’t know, but… In hundreds of years I saw so many
just like her get kicked out and dying, going to the Icetowers before their time. I
was wondering what would happen if you let a free spirit roam, what would it
be like if someone took a different path…” he then paused for a few moments to
think about something. Aidan could not be sure, but a kind of personal energy
was bursting out of him. “Just… let it free…” he whispered staring off into the
distance, “Let it…” and then he tried to change the gloomy atmosphere that
settled by making a joke, “You get an eternity to convince yourself that you’re
special for sacrificing to a cause. Best deal in the history of trade deals. Except
when we exchanged the Colony Peninsula for the rest of the continent. That was
better.”
Aidan laughed at the unexpected comparison and smooth transition. In a
few minutes they took off, flying above the Capital. The towers and flats found
in the Centres were standing out like a conglomeration of spikes reaching out
for the window, surrounded in a sea of green gardens and mansions, with
occasionally isolated private towers like Aidan’s new home. As they flew even
higher, the bundles of needles increased, revealing the structure of the city.
Aidan squinted his eyes a little and saw in it an orchard, with each tower a
branch in a tree that stood out like an individual tree, each of Centres far enough
from each other as not to interfere with each other’s respective Districts, just
like trees are separated and given enough space to grow and bloom. It was a
maze of circular Districts held together by a system of roads and highways; a
breathing entity akin to a pulmonary alveolus in that regard.
Beyond it though, Aidan saw through the window something else
entirely. It was like a wall going around city of Lanvos, a great mist of green
sneaking on civilisation, ready to destroy it, creeping around, looking for the
right moment to strike. From that height he could no longer see the few but
wide highways that speared through the beast of a forest. From up there, it
looked undefeatable, a supreme force that merely allows itself to be tamed for
unknown reasons.
“Thee art marvelling at the sight o’ the splendours o’ nature? Excuse
me… How often do you travel, usually?” Agure asked, noticing Aidan’s
prolonged staring through the window.
“Enough for my tastes. Usually once or twice a year. In case you wonder
where, I sometimes go to Cassan, but mostly Dhilin in the Free Cities. A few
times I saved enough to go to Nan Hay, but last time I got mugged outside the
resort and… I had a hard time getting off the island.”
“Peculiar. I never had such problems in Nan Hay, you must be unlucky.”
Agure chuckled. “You’ve never been to other Free Cities? Soulin, Bahong,
Kaylin, Mowong?” he kept asking questions.
“Not really, I preferred to go with the cheaper packs. The most expensive
journeys were those to Nan Hay. And about my lack of luck there, it is also due
to financial reasons. The resort was on the east side.”
“East side? Well, I’ve seen it and… Yeah, it’s not safe with all those
Rhovnies around.”
 Silence fell for a brief moment and then Aidan came up with his own
question for Agure.
“You’re pretty old and I suppose you have talked with Heriotza about
things besides business. Is it real what they say about the forest?” he asked a
little frustrated, as he didn’t want to look like some conspiracist. “I mean,” he
added to clarify, “I made a journey on foot in the forest and I find it hard to
believe it’s all like that.”
Agure was intrigued by his question, which was visible by the reaction of
his eyebrows on a rather serious face.
“I suppose the education at orphanages must be improved. Not only can’t
you speak your own language, you’re also susceptible to unknowingly putting
yourself in danger.” he started with some criticism. “Answer yourself, if you
say you’ve been there: how deep did you venture? How many craters did you
see? How many trenches are underneath those trees?”
“Uncountable. I went… I don’t remember precisely. I think I went
something like 10 km by the side of the highway and then one kilometer deep
into the forest. Afterwards I was too tired to continue, I had to jump over and
climb down countless craters and dozens of overgrown trenches.”
“Then you know the truth. What’s up with the question?” he asked
angrily, but somewhat relieved by his answer.
“I look at the vastness of this continent and I can’t imagine it… It’s been
2000 years since the war, how can there be so many marks left? Shouldn’t time
have cleared the battlefields? To bury it all? And how could the War of
Unification have been so bad as to scar the entirety of this country? There are
no villages, no small towns, only a few islands like the Capital, Cassan, Milvan,
Phine and all else is… This wasteland!” Aidan showed his true confusion under
a layer of frustration, looking in disbelief at the vastness of the forest, knowing
all too well what kind of hellscape was lying underneath.
“The price paid for this country was great. I am too young to have lived
through it. I don’t remember being told stories about the war. Heriotza lived
through it though, and he doesn’t mention it exempt on very special occasions.
Just don’t go into the forest again. There are wild animals and I can assure you
that I have personally unearthed a few grenades a few hundred years ago. They
were a little over a thousand years old back then, but the police still had to
defuse them. Once I heard voices coming from the ground… Tunic voices…
Screams in a language I could not understand…” Agure explained with ice cold
horror in his voice as he reimagined himself walking, driven by curiosity into
the unknown.
Aidan was not convinced by his words and had a few problems with
them,
“You don’t seem to listen to your own advice! You’re telling me not to
go and find stuff for myself, yet you did that yourself back in the day, when
there were more chances to stumble onto dangerous stuff. Also, you thought
that I was worth sharing your ‘secret’ regret of not being the heir, but you insult
my intelligence for checking out stuff for myself? I won’t lie, you sound like a
hypocrite.” Aidan reasoned and told Agure straight in his face. Such an act
couldn’t have happened in other context, as it would most likely led to his
expulsion from the family for insulting such a senior member of the Household.
“No, no, no!” Agure tried to explain himself. “First of all, I was
disappointed with your education, not your intelligence. There’s a difference.
And yes, I know I was just like you at some point, and I still regret exploring
those surroundings as often as I did, but that was before, when I was a fresh
Tunic, feeling invincible and not caring about building a career. Now I know
better. That’s why I’m advising you to not to the same. Especially since you are
alive, may I be damned, breathing folk should stay away from that place at all
costs! You never know what’s going to happen!”
Aidan saw through Agure’s warnings and precautions a care for all living
folk. He cared, unlike so many other seniors he heard at his own wedding,
seeing living people as mere entertainment or object tied to their heritage with
no right of self-determination. Now knowing more about Agure’s more
adventurous past and protective behaviour, he pieced the puzzle together to
create a profile picture that needed no description.
“So, you went exploring with someone else! Someone had to carry your
Artefact through that journey. Who’s your side-kick?” he asked cheerfully,
leaving behind the heavy tone the conversation had before.
“Huh… My wife, who else? That was way before we got bored of each
other. A century later and things would begin to go downhill.”
“Alright, this is not what I was going for… Shit, I intended to light up the
atmosphere!” Aidan told himself.
An hour of occasional small talk and one-liners later and the view from
the window finally changed from the endless green shadow of the past. It
changed into rectangular fields of brown, green and yellow, moulding and
bending according to however the terrain dictated, like a brush following the
curves of the spine when getting a your back painted.
“We don’t have much left, we’re already at the fields of Cassan!”
Aidan didn’t have much time to enjoy the sight. In a matter of minutes,
the landscape would change again.
“Already?” Agure was pulled out of a meditative state.
“Yes, time flies by!” Aidan replied enthusiastically, yet expecting a
negative review of the lame attempt at a joke.
“Damn it, don’t make any joke like that again, keep it to yourself!”
“Saying something like that only makes me want to do it again.” he
confessed satisfied with the result.
“If I tell you a secret of the industry will you stop doing that?” he made
an offer.
“Deal. Now tell me.”
“You know how things work in general: The Free Cities get resources
and ship them through the port of Cassan so that we can manufacture goods.
Well, things are like that only because they don’t have enough spare land to
build many factories. That’s why the rich there like to brag about the locally
produced jewels and clothes they are wearing. If you ever stopped to talk to one
on the streets of Dhilin, you’d notice. Anyway, about those… we make even
those. The textiles are made here and are only woven in the Free Cities in one of
their few workshops. And guess who are the most skilled and valued workers
there… still us. Fools! Ha-ha!” Agure started laughing in his chair.
“Wow… I didn’t talk to any rich people there, but I have heard of the
value of locally produced things and have even seen the prices they get to in the
marketplace. Just incredible! If people found out, the economy would collapse
on both sides of the Gold Sea!” Aidan realised, disturbed by this realisation.
“You confuse me. Sometimes you’re so good at seeing the true
intentions, but then you say something as naïve as this! Of course not. They
would simply not care and keep doing the same things, only that we could have
fun looking at whatever mental gymnastics they come up with to justify not
changing. It’s still the most local thing they can produce. To protest against this
by not buying would just increase the demand for imported goods.” Agure
criticized Aidan’s thinking with disappointment.
 “That makes sense. People don’t really want to change, do they?” he
asked rhetorically.
He was left to watch in silence how the plane flew over the fields, the
only place where agriculture was practiced on any significant level in the
Lavonian Association. Beyond them there was a kilometre to the Ash River in
which house and apartment complexes reigned supreme. This strip of
civilisation extended on both banks. To Aidan’s left it flowed with the river to
the east until the river met the sea, where the port was located. Upstream, to the
west, Cassan bended with the course of the river to the intersection of two other
streams that originated beyond the Wind Barrier, from the Soft Mountains,
streams that joined into one to create the river.
“Cassan is huge. It’s hard to believe it started as two small towns
separated by the river, one Hakdan and the other Lavonian. What do you think
of the protests at Centre 1?” he asked remembering those were still happening.
“Do they look like the Smoke Riots to you?”
“Not really. The Riots were more brutal and angrier, from what I’ve seen
in the news, they are way more docile. I also don’t see the explosive part
happening. If something like that repeated, there would be no regressive
Hakdans left. It’s more like a final battle to finally assimilate those savages, and
all we have to do is wait until they stop yelling at the sky!”
“Really?” Aidan asked for more clarification.
“Yes. Do you think I’d support people who want to destroy our way of
life? It’s a slippery slope. Their goal is not to make Haktun inhabitable. They
want it. First, they want it inhabitable, then they move there. Next comes a
demand for more autonomy and in a few generations, with increased numbers,
they’re going to yell that their own business can’t compete with the millennia of
expertise of factories have there. They’ll play the victim card again, honourless
people willing do to anything to have it their way, be it submit of backstab!
They’ll say we oppress them and there won’t be any sign of gratitude for giving
back the land we fought and died to take. They’ll tear apart the country!”
Aidan was amazed by the hatred coming from Agure and of the
conviction with which he argued for the future, as if he was it happen before his
eyes. He realised he was better off lying than trying to argue in their favour.
“Glad to see you don’t resemble Ira in your take on the subject.” he
deflected the conversation.
 “Indeed, I’ve heard what she believes. No compromise can be made with
these idiots. They are all alone in their stupidity. Many fellow Hakdans live in
perfect harmony with Lavonians in Cassan. Can you imagine 2000 years of
constant dissatisfaction? Imagine not giving up after so much time? It’s insane.
They’re insane!”
“Agreed. The only case in which Haktun could be made inhabitable again
is when they all become part of this nation, without any separatist sentiment.
Clearly!” Aidan reinforced his statement, seeing how Agure didn’t realise he
was acting.
“Yes. You are more reasonable now! That’s why I’m saying you give me
mixed feelings. To correct myself, they are not entirely alone. A few engineers
support them, for different reasons. They have the same goal in the end, that’s
why conspiracists that believe the government is hiding technology work
together with them. They both want to see the government burn!”
“I never understood what they actually wanted. What technology is being
hidden?” Aidan asked, genuinely this time.
“Nothing that makes sense. They believe in machines able to produce and
craft goods by themselves. Metal gears with a brain, similar in some ways to
cars, as far as automated processes go. They say that these machines could
replace the workers crafting manually furniture, car pieces or pack food faster.
Stuff like that. Dreams in the wind from delusional people pretending they
themselves could design the machines they describe. Either way, the Hakdan
aren’t helped too much by only about 100 mad engineers.”
“What would the government have to win by having lower productivity?
This makes no sense!” Aidan laughed amused by the counter-productive circle
of thought.
“They claim the government would gain control.” Agure had an answer,
to his surprise. “To keep most of the Tunic population employed, to control
them and more easily, to not have time to realise they are manipulated!”
They both laughed together this time as they flew over Cassan, further
South. After some more fields, a white line materialised itself at the horizon, the
Wind Barrier. Aidan looked at it, running across almost the entirety of the
continent. It was a system of closely packed together turbines, similar in colour
and overall placement to vertebrae, a spinal column separating the prosperous
residential and commercial North from the barren industrial wasteland of the
South. It was a weather control system, all things considered, redirecting the air
currents so that the pollution from Haktun didn’t reach past it. Thusly were
contained the gases from the burning of Soft Mountains’ coal for energy, the
toxic fumes left from the metallurgic industry, contaminated smoke from the
heating of boilers for dyeing of each and every piece of fashion and textile as
well as pollutants from the manufacture of plastic packages.
“I’ve never been to any of those factories. I suppose that is different from
you.” Aidan resumed the conversation, looking at the thin fog-like veil
stretching with deadly subtlety over the land.
“It might come as a surprise for someone outside of management, but I
haven’t been there for a few hundred years in any significant way.” Agure told
him and seeing the surprise on Aidan’s face, followed up with more details, “I
have always been attracted towards the managing sector, so I worked there for
brief periods of time in my years of training, so I would know what I would be
dealing with. Before being a Branch Manager, I occupied various positions in
the family’s numerous enterprises down there.”
“So, you don’t know much about i?”
“Quite the contrary. In some ways. You see, I might not be too familiar
with the layout of the workshops and such, but I can tell you everything about
the supply chain. Everything from the import of raw materials from the Free
Cities, to the factories that both produce goods to export back to the cities and
produce everything the workshops from all across Haktun and Lanvos need for
the hand-assembled cars, hand-woven carpets, fancy dresses, suits, hand-crafted
jewellery, you name it. May I suppose rightfully that you are not interested I the
intricate logistics behind this?” he asked with a smile on his face, feeling as if
he was talking to himself, in spite of Aidan carefully listening.
“Well, yes, I was looking more for… craftsmen trivia, but logistics will
do the trick. We have only a few hours of flight left and I have to distract myself
from the hunger that’s building up.”
Aidan relaxed after a lecture on economics, caught in-between a state of
sleep and consciousness, at the border of dream and reality, forms and ideas
materialising behind his closet eyes, yet conscious that it was all imagination.
The rest of his body was nothing but a feather, he could not feel it anymore,
blending in with the chair in a rather uncomfortable position. That was, until a
voice addressed him, an unknown one of obscure origins, coming from both his
left and right, both above and below. He words could be heard, but barely
understood. The strangeness of this occurrence caused a confusion that broke
the immersion, and he woke up. Quickly adjusting his body on the cramped
chair, he listened to the rest of the captain’s message.
 “… journey shalt be continued by usage o’ naval means, due
t’unfavourable meteorological conditions ove’ the Fierce Sea. We shalt
commence descending fo’ the purposes o’ landing.” he announced from his
secluded cockpit.
Puzzled, Aidan checked the window and saw they were flying over the
southern slopes of the resource depleted Soft Mountains, by the edge of the
continent, far from the last remaining coal mines on the northern side.
“What? Neka didn’t tell me that we’d take a boat there! What ships?
What port?” he thought and then turned to Agure for explanations.
“Don’t worry, it must be some small place, maybe a glorified weather
station. Why do you worry? Are you seasick?” he sensed some insecurities in
Aidan’s inquiries.
“Yes,” he lied, “and I find it weird Neka would forget to mention
something like that.” he said, but this time his former superior could feel the
dishonesty, so he was forced to elaborate. “You know, it’s the far south and I’m
alive, I don’t want lung cancer from inhaling the air. At least here on the plane
we fly above the bad air and it is filtered. I didn’t bring any protection gear, I
didn’t think I’d leave the plane until we arrived, y’know?”
Agure was not entirely convinced by this was the only reason for this
surge in caution, but the reasoning was solid and he had more than enough of
Aidan for the day, so he just mumbled a confirmation hum and let it go.
In a matter of minutes, the plane landed and Aidan was sweating
profusely. Luckily nobody could smell him, but his agitation was blatantly
obvious, from the dreadful eyes to the constant agitation of his feet and the
game of intertwining fingers he was playing, keeping his arms close to his body.
Agure simply preferred to ignore him for once, brushing it as some sort of sea
related phobia.
“After all, by his own admittance, he’s not familiar with seafaring. He’ll
get over it, he’s strong-willed… sometimes.” he told himself as he was
preparing to leave at the instructions of the flight attendant.
Aidan was troubled by the resemblance and familiarity of the docks that
he saw from above. The place was bigger than a weather station. It didn’t have a
dock, it had multiple.
“Why would a weather station need such an extensive port? And the
ships… Boy, are they sketchy! Not cruises, not even something made especially
for Tunics, like this cramped plane… Those are tens of industrial cargo carriers,
equipped with an on-board crane… Some look like they’re cramped with…
Like those from—” he then paused in a moment of revelation. “Alright, it’s
clear this is the place from Unnquk’s video, or something replicating it. This is
either the place the movie was shot or… I don’t know what.”
Seeking answers, he proceeded to ask Agure again as they were
disembarking the plane. There was no hurry, as most Tunics just went through
them and each other, each leaving according to their own speed.
“No, I haven’t seen the movie, I don’t have the privilege of wasting my
time with niche entertainment, unlike Ira. All I know is that if it is, you should
ask somebody who’s working here.”
Once descending the ladder, they were met by four military personnel
armed with warhammers, grenades and acid spray, the elementary weapons
necessary to keep a sense of control. They were instructed along with the rest of
the passengers,
“Kind gentlemen and sweetest o’ ladies! We art here but fo’ the safety o’
the meteorological conditions surveillance facility. No offense t’yee, but some
o’ thyne fellow countrymen considereth themselves above the law at the time o’
retirement. We shalt accompany thee on thy journey to the ship. Art we on
agreeable terms?” one guard asked the people.
There was a general murmur of agreement, to which Aidan was the one to
awkwardly break the unanimity,
“Is there a restaurant or cafeteria somewhere or when can I take my
sandwich from my luggage?” he asked ashamed to go against the consensus, but
his hunger was growing greater than shame.
The four guards looked baffled at each other hoping that somebody else
had an answer, until the answer hit one of them,
“Aaaa! This is flight 704, isn’t it?”
“Uhm… Yes, it is. What do you--” another one replied, before being hit
by the answer herself, “Oooh… Alright then…” and then whispered to the rest,
“What should we do? This wasn’t in protocol.”
When they finished awkwardly whispering to each other in front of a
mesmerized crowd that failed to see the point of their secrecy, they replied to
the initial question.
“Unfortunately, there are no such facilities. Your baggage will be
transported t’ the ship by our personnel and interfering with it is outside the
realm-o possibility for the moment. Junior Special Forces Officer Hanna
Wushon will guide and supervise you t’the research station’s dining room. Yee
other good folk shalt be accompanied to be ship this instant. Thy fellow
companion will follow you soon. No delays shalt be caused by this event.”
With the speech over and a series of suspicious glances thrown at Aidan
from the rest, including Agure, the group separated.
Held over the shoulder by the officer, Aidan saw looking around to make
more sense of his surrounding to no avail. There was a runway and a hangar for
planes, but in rest the airport was abandoned. He doubted if this was the optimal
placement, considering the constant breeze of the sea, but he wasn’t an
engineer, so he dismissed this. The air itself was not as bad as he expected, but
despite being so close to the sea and in the middle of nowhere, the air was still
rather heavy and sometimes if the wind blew just rightly he could sense an
artificial smell. In rest the place didn’t have much going for it. There was a
central modern building father from the sea, on the slope of a grey will. The
only plants were a select few lichens and some moss growing on rocky outcrops
or on less beaten parts of the asphalt beneath his feet.
“Short inquiry, if I may, officer.” he politely asked as his eyes slid across
the path connecting the docks to the central building, which because of its
height Aidan figured also served as surveillance tower.
“O-course.” she replied mechanically, moving with the heavy equipment
on her as easily as with a shirt. This and her cold hand over Aidan’s shoulder
reinforced her Tunic status. She wore no clothes proper, but used the same
tricks used by other Tunics to change appearance into whatever colours were
necessary to blend in with the environment, like the earthy grey of her skin. Her
breathing counterparts in the army, though very few in number, had to do with
uniforms and face-paint to achieve the same trick that required Tunics only a
little focus of willpower.
“There was a movie filmed here or… some place that looks eerily
similar? I’ve seen something, a feeling of déja vu, but I’m not sure.” He asked
turning his head towards her. She on the other hand stood firm and replied to
him without a single outside gesture, without interfering with the march. “It
looks like I’m talking to someone stuck on repeat, doing the same moves over
and over again.” Aidan told himself.
“I heard-o some films shot a few years prior at another MOARS. ‘Tis
Meteorological Observation And Research Station, if the nomenclature
confuses you. Nothing recent here though.”
 “And I couldn’t help but hear that my arrival with flight 704 had been
previously announced?” he added as they were climbing the stairs to the central
facility.
“It was supposed to be a short inquiry.” she commented, dissatisfied by a
curiosity that she was not paid extra to swallow. “Anyway, ‘tis true that thy
arrival was communicated t’us. Not every day it happens to welcome a living
folk around here. The most common cases are breathers that try to sneak into
the Icetowers. Our job is to keep the Tunics save and keep living people out.
Now go over there and ask for something.” she instructed him, pointing to a
door at the end of the hallway. She was following him from a distance as he
entered the dining room.
Somehow the presence of soldiers, even if different from the ones in the
video by virtue of being dead, unsettled him, repulsing any sense of safety
instead of inspiring one.
The place was a large room with tables all over the place and an ordering
area to the right, where a selection of a few basic foods awaited to be eaten next
to the cash register. What unnerved him to the point of a panic attack were the
people that minded their business there. Sure, it was mostly empty, but there
were two families of strange people eating, the same strange type as the cashier.
A foreign type of people, one that would be totally alien if one event in his life
would’ve been skipped,
“Miqhuns! Fucking… Miqhuns! These are… Are… Miqhuns! What!?
Shit, shit, shit, no Aidan, this is not alright! Not at all, fucking Birdsnakes! No,
no way this is all cosplay… Where am I? What have I gotten myself into?
Damn this fucking shit!” he thought to himself.
With his heart rushing, pumping blood and adrenaline being released
through his body, he turned back only to be met by the officer. His instincts
were preparing him for action, a fight or flight response to an imminent, yet
unidentifiable danger, an ominous one spinning around him without showing its
face, pure anxiety in the face of a certain danger lying just out of the desperate
reaches of knowledge and predictability.
“What are you doing? Get yourself something that you can eat on the way
and we’ll return to the ship.” She ordered, not understanding his reaction. “Do
you have a problem with immigrants?”
“What? No, I’m not that kind, I’m fine with Hakdans, Free Cities folks,
Rhovnians, even Colony people. I just… I wanted to go to the toilet, that’s all!”
he excused himself as well as his sweaty face allowed him to.
 “Fine, there by the right.” She pointed to a door. “Be quick.”
Aidan didn’t need much motivation to take refugee in the toilet, wash his
face and analyse what is going on around him. As he finished splashing his face
with cold water in front of a mirror, from one of the bathroom stalls came a
source of salvation in the form of a janitor.
Running straight at him with desperation in his eyes, he grabbed the
Miqhun by the chest and stared through his soul as he asked his questions,
standing on his toes to increase his perceived height and intimidation factor,
“Look, I’m not trynna hurt you. I no hurt you, get it?” he began the forced
interrogation. The man nodded and as a result Aidan let him go.
“I have question. Woman and man, like me, Lavonian, with bomb live
here? What they do here?”
Scared, the man was confused and afraid for his safety, but at the same
time confused as to why a Lavonian was asking about his fellow folks.
“Day hir liv, dzeah! Day…” and he stopped to try to find the words to
express himself in Lavonian, “to ship, take to Lukliq (*Dead-land) de ghost.
Tau not with em?” he tried to ask Aidan, who picked up on his broken speech
with ease.
“No, me not. What you do here?”
“Me clean.” the man replied almost amused by such a simplistic question.
“You, yee, not thou. Miqhun what do here?” he clarified the
misunderstanding.
“We… erm… Take ship t’ Lukliq en back. Ofitsa come to big do ghost,
big cost… Elsu… We liv hir, Miqhun home.”
Aidan face-palmed himself in anger at his own person,
“Of course…” he told himself out loud and then returned to the janitor
who was clinging on his sweeper as he tried to communicate to him,
“Tau… Miqhun man and woman know, know Miqhun what is. Why?”
and he accentuated his words with weird hand gestures.
“Book. And Unnquk! Unnquk… Hillaquk! He Miqhun… eh… he go
Lavons, he speak of Miqhun of south!” Aidan related, but the spark of hope was
killed the second he saw the eyes of the janitor were not sharing the enthusiasm,
but were blurred by uncertainty.
 “Me no know Unnquk Hillaquk of. What he speak?” he man replied
bewildered and not comprehending the message.
Aidan was giving up on him, but then he decided it was worth asking for
help, as he lacked a better plan.
“Help me. I not want go ship, me alive, me breathing!” and then inspired
profusely some air. “Me not want go to ship, no want go ghost!”
The man was mortified by his statement and had to double check the
information by any means he had,
“You have go ship, you no want? Ofitsa speak you on ship, you no want
on ship?” he asked holding his breath.
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Help me!” he pleaded, falling on his knees, seeing
the man got the message. “Officer out, wait for me. What to do now?” he asked,
hopeful with the joy of having stumbled upon somebody willing to help,
somebody like Unnquk when it came to willingness to collaborate.
The last words he heard were ‘Bad feel from me, me love I family. Forget
me.’ before everything turned into black, being pushed into the darkness of
unconsciousness by the pain caused by the sweeper’s wooden handle crack
against Aidan’s skull.

QUESTIONS FOR AUDIENCE:

He sees a connection between not helping Unnquk and him not being helped.
Would a sequence where Aidan just has fun add enough to his character for it to
be worth existing?
Does the book seem rushed in the last chapters? Does Neka’s reveal as a villain
come out of nowhere and not built up to?
Does the dialogue with Agure feel like an exposition dump?
Would a sequence where Aidan just has fun add enough to his character for it to
be worth existing?
Does the book seem rushed in the last chapters? Does Neka’s reveal as a villain
come out of nowhere and not built up to?
Does the dialogue with Agure feel like an exposition dump?
 Chapter 13: On board

On board of L.A. Paul Bear, in the accommodation section of the vessel,

a towering building at one of its extremities, the fading white cover of the cold
steel walls gave way for a rather boring atmosphere on the inside. Most halls
were empty, the image of the one venturing through the labyrinth being
distorted beyond recognition in the reflections on the walls. Not a mirror, not an
opaque, stable element either, only a disturbingly uncanny imitation of life. The
eerie sounds of distant echoing footsteps vibrating from every direction, mixing
in with the murmur of the engine and waves shaking the metal of the hull as
they broke against the stell fortress. The white lights on some sectors added
nothing to the landscape, on the contrary, taking away from any sign of
humanity, replacing it with ice-cold functionality, efficiency and industrialism.
One would understandably feel alone in the middle of a congregation in such an
environment. Some places were in fact lighted by natural light coming from
windows, but it all was deceitful. The inviting yellowish shade of live-giving
light was only the façade, a mask of the cold truth. The rays weren’t warm.
Here, the sun itself was a liar. If one could not the trust the sun, trusting oneself
became a challenge, a fight with the solitude of the endless waves one could see
through the windows that allowed the sun in.
The only place with enough colour diversity to not drive someone insane
with the blinding white was the same place most of the crew had gathered in for
the night. It was similar in purpose to a Gathering hall, but the size of a large
living room, not that of an event hall. Around a central table ornated by some
drinks and freshly cooked pasta with some vegetables and a good chunk of
chicken meat, around 10 people were waiting for someone to finish shuffling
some round tokens.
“C’mon Kalik, we don’t have all night! In two hours, me and Dzuriq need
to start our shifts!” one with long blond hair remarked, throwing a passing
glance at another one with a short-trimmed moustache and leather jacket as he
did so.
“Take it easy Hula, I’ve just finished.” the shuffler replied as he stopped
and started handing over the tokens, careful not to show the signs that were
inscribed on the front, until he was left with three ownerless pieces.
Next, Kalik volunteered to start the game. Placing the three pieces in a
close triangle at the centre of the table, he took one of his tokens after checking
the its front and pushed it in a gliding motion towards the rest of those at the
centre. Upon the forceful impact, two of the pieces revealed that their front was
coloured red, respectively green.
“Starting strong, captain! 15 points.” his table neighbour to the right, a
man with silent eyes acclaimed.
“Leave something for us!” Dzuriq commented while captain’s neighbour
threw in his own piece, without turning over anything.
The game continued for a while, some people adding pieces, other
turning them over. Hula proved to be captain’s best match, scoring 20 by
turning over two red pieces, which he made sure to celebrate in cheerful
fraternity. It went down rather usually, until the next one to throw was a man
with slender fingers and a narrow face beyond which a ponytail could be
admired. His shaking hand surprised the onlookers as he managed to strike with
shocking precision a rare blue piece. Everyone could see it because it was flying
above the table, flipping over from the force of impact, only to land in
someone’s pasta.
“Woah! I somebody call out the cook, my food’s as hard as rock! I could
crack his head open with this thing!” the man shouted out, causing a general
laughter in the room, to which only the shooter had to pretend his amusement.
“What’s wrong, mate?” Kalik asked him after more and more people’s
laughter died down. “Tough day?”
“Almost.” he replied promptly out of a single breath, his ponytail
dangling behind his head.
“Well if you ain’t gonna present yourself, I will!” the captain resumed.
Standing up, he addressed the fellow crew.
“This is Jolaqik, not only our new Junior Crane Operator, but also our
newest friend and comrade. In fact, I might say we’re more to him, as his first
ever fellow crew members. First year at sea!” he declared, and then the rest of
the crew also stood up and clapped, even whistled with congratulations.
“It seems our mate has some reservations.” Kalik recommenced, “Let’s
show him that he’s welcome as he is! Who’s willing to start?”
Hula volunteered and the game resumed while some were eating and
other’s listening to his story.
“Look, dude… We’ve all been unexperienced sailors at first. The first
thing I do when I get on a ship is take a deep breath and meditate for a while.
That is before the mess starts, when they bring the ‘cargo’ by plane and cruises.
I just stand against the barrier, look at the waves and ask myself… Why am I
doing this? Then I remember that back on shore awaits me a fine lady… One
that berates me like no other, cooks worse that whales, is the size of one and if I
think about it is as loud as one… Wait a second… I married a fucking whale!”
he joked, getting some laughs and a chuckled out of Jola, because of his
exaggerated surprised expression.
“And the kiddies, man, don’t forget the kiddoes!” Dzuriq added.
“Oh, yeah, those genuine bastards! I kid you not, pun intended, that when
I told them to keep their bed neat, covers and sheet properly stretched, the way
it’s supposed to be… They got some rocks as weight to straighten them like
steel cables! And each time I go to say goodbye, I have to be look for my
damned boots. They yell ‘Papa, don’t!’ and hide them in all kinds of places, like
the attic or the backyard toilet. These things that I wear on right now have more
experience in getting buried under a pile of rocks than great-grandpa!” this time
he said his jokes less jovially, but still with nostalgia in his voice, and a shred of
regret hidden behind dark comedy.
“Dudes, dudes, we’re giving him the wrong idea! Hula’s been bubbling
gibberish outto his mouth this whole time! The gent in front of us may not be
married, how many of us got to meet the right one by our first voyage?” Dzuriq
commented, his words followed by babblings of general agreement, after which
the took over the spotlight,
“Boy, when you think of home, you must think of… Your home! Unless
you live at one of those towers in the ports, you must have your own village.
There you’ve got your own building, made with the sweat of your family,
neighbours and yourself! That’s the place you truly master! Nothing gets done
without you. Need a better roof? Call in uncle Liq-liq! Water installation
defected? You and neighbour Tik-tik got each other’s back! The joy of seeing
things your own way, the joy of building you! Those pesky Lavonians come and
sell us construction materials cheaper than dirt, our houses are better than our
ancestors have ever been! Walls that stop the wind, a clean floor, running hot
water, gas to heat the homes! No more wood collecting, no more wood
shipments, not even food is a problem anymore, they deliver it on time, and it’s
not some shit, it’s fucking delicious! You’re not breaking your back on a barren
field only to starve anyway… All this comfort, for only doing the job on this
ship and not talking about it with non-Wushons.” he explained even as he was
aiming and scoring 10 additional points at Push Off.
 “Old fashion, you always kept close to tradition! Tell me, since when
didn’t people have to farm? 4000 years? Isn’t that a little outdated? You’ve
never seen a plant come out of the ground! The only job we still have is fishing,
and that’s just when we’re allowed by Lavons. Let’s not forget the mining that
was back in the day. Like farming, mostly an Icesoul job, but with living people
involved too.” the captain criticised him, but ultimately agreeing, “But indeed.
Fishing and this job are the only things that tie us to the horrible past. Lanvos
allowed us to have no other worries.”
“But what about when we leave out own kind there?” Jola asked less
timidly, starting to crack out of the egg.
“Well, we can’t fit everyone on our land. A new life awaits our elderly
there. At least they have the privilege of freedom. Their Artefacts are not locked
in crates. Those that are on this ship could join us right this instant, but they
don’t. They lived, raised children, passed on the knowledge of their ancestors,
it’s time for a new challenge. Nobody knows what’s beyond the Icetowers.”
The young man had only one more question for the captain,
“What if they don’t what to leave?”
“I see where you are going.” He replied, realising the boy lost a dear one
too soon, “You’ll get around to our view eventually. Don’t think you’re the only
one with a rebellious phase. I promise you, the more you spend in the business,
the more you’ll see the greater picture. Those Lavonians, their Icesouls live for
hundreds of years away from home, working! Slaves, that’s what they are! I
promise you, once you see the Icetowers and what they’ve done of it, you’ll
change your mind. When you hear then cry, remember they’ve been thought to
crave servitude, and you are offering them freedom. Most of our elders don’t
want an eternity of teaching and raising children, they’d rather explore over the
white horizon.”
“Maybe.” Was the short and decisive reply of the new crewman. “I hope
so.” He added, “You’re nice, lovely, even you, Dzuriq, with your old fashion. I
believe we’re going to get along well.” And he concluded by throwing another
token, this time regularly achieving 0 points.
“Better luck next time!” Hula reacted.
After a few more rounds, the game’s end was closing in and with it,
Jola’s newfound trust in the people around him pushed him to put forward
another discussion, as mechanical conversations were not the most engaging for
him.
 “I don’t want to stir controversy, but what do you guys think of the
Wushons?” he asked with a smile on his face.
Instantly Kalik and Hula exchanged some fiery looks and then
extinguished the spark that was on the point of blowing one of them up.
“Technically, they are Gui. Wushon Gui is their Househead. And we
should never overlook the seed of Wergethory Rix, he also has several
descendants operating in the same way.” Dzuriq clarified.
“It is well known that there are two main ways of viewing the problem.
It’s either bearable or an issue that demands a renegotiation of the Treaty of
Blue Waters. I personally think they are a necessary drawback that comes with
all the perks of Lavonian assistance. Let’s hear Hula!” the captain addressed the
issue firstly.
“I am only an engineer running the ship’s propulsion system, but in my
view, it is obvious that we can have the exact same deals with Lanvos if they
trust us not to revolt and retreat their Intelligence Service Special Troops from
our territory.”
“I don’t trust we would not fight for full independence if the guns were
lifted from above our heads. Under Hakdan rule we needed troops to be kept in
check, it’s the same now.” Someone sided with the captain while another one
added,
“It is physically possible to keep such an agreement, but it would be
extremely short sighted to believe it would last forever. We’re only human, we
always want more.”
“No, we need internal regulation, like other peoples, to be one! No more
different tribes, one people, under one rule, in a trade agreement with Lanvos…
Not military occupation!” someone else disagreed and came up with a solution.
“Yes! We’re so used to seeing soldiers around from such a young age, we
don’t realise there is another, more normal way!” another man added. “Our
wives, children and ancestors shouldn’t be threatened with dead if we don’t do
our job! Those brainwashed shitheads see themselves as heroes, I’m sure of it!”
The spirits were getting hotter and the divide accentuated when above
every man’s shouting arguments there raise a voice above them all, ordering the
cessation of the shitshow.
“Divide and conquer! That’s what they want to use. We need to accept
the situation as it is for the moment and find new ways to unite! If it weren’t for
our friendship, this argument would’ve escalated into a brawl between strangers
on the mainland! We are in no position to negotiate with the Lavonians yet. We
must be united, until one expedition makes it through. In the meantime, look at
the facts. Nobody is actually getting murdered. It happens rarely and in justified
cases with radical separatists. Let us be united now!” the captain stated the
compromise between the two sides.
“You guys are awesome!” Jola said, “I personally believe that they could
simply threaten us with cutting the food supply and the guns are overkill, but I
like the general spirit here.”
“Glad to hear you’re feeling like home!” Kalik replied.
“Did you hear any news of the last expedition? It took so long to get
some untraceable relic PTVs and record that montage with the poor villages and
Icetowers, not to say getting volunteers who can speak more than two words in
that retarded language… It’d be a shame if they didn’t accomplish anything!”
“No news for me.” The captain announced, followed by the same
negative response from everyone who bothered to speak in the first place.
“Oh… I was expecting something else.” He said with disappointment
pouring out of his mouth.
“Us too, kiddo.” Hula concluded, scoring another 10 points and tying
with the captain at the exact same score of 45.
The void gave birth to the night’s stary sky in Aidan’s eyes. After a few
seconds of confusion, he realised he was laying on the ground. The astral dome
above him entirely swallowed him, and he felt small and insignificant in the
context of the Universe, a speck of breathing dust in the sky of eternal light and
darkness. It gave him a sense of being trapped. The dome seemed infinite in
size, yet at the same time he could see almost its entirety, an oxymoron that led
him down a path of seeking liberation from the prison, of finding a new sky. It
was at the same time a comforting sight, knowing there are some things that
will always be there, yet at the same time so uncaring and distant.
This mixed feeling sent shivers down his body, and with this refreshment,
he could feel himself properly. Nevertheless, he regretted doing so. Cold spread
through his body, a wintery type. Moving his fingers, he realised he was
actually not sitting on the ground, but on metal. The general chaotic noise he
had received also collapsed into distinguishable sound. The wind, fellow
Lavonians speaking and… Waves? Water?
 “Doomsland! Where the fuck am I?! How did I get here?” he shouted in
fear, rising all of a sudden on his two feet. This proved to be his second mistake,
as blood rushed out of his head and he got dizzy all of a sudden. To add salt to
injury, when the blood returned, it only fuelled a powerful headache he had to
combat. Faced with so much discomfort and pain, he let out another cry of pain.
“He woke up! He’s up!” some voice said.
“Great? What’s up with him?” another one asked.
“Did he say why he’s here?” somebody cried over another dozen of
questions regarding him.
Aidan finally could analyse his surrounding properly,
“Damn, alright, so… I’m at the edge of a ship, that much is clear and all
these guys wear white tunics, so they must be the newly retired. This ship…
Damn, it’s so long! I didn’t appreciate the size well from the plane.” And
looking towards the left and then the right, he approximated the length. “It must
be around a whole kilometre, Birdsnakes! And the floor is… not black, it’s grey
or white or red or just exposed metal in certain part, but from up it was mainly
black and white. White… Doomsland, I really didn’t get a good look from the
plane.” he thought, and then came up got to talk to the people.
“We’re going to the Icetowers, aren’t we?” he asked them.
Several positive answers came his way and more imposing Tunics tried to
create a semblance of order around him. A circle with a radius of two meters
was cleared around him, and in rest the entirety of the Tunics tried to come as
close as possible, clearing up a good part of the deck by interfering with each
other and standing one inside the other.
“Alright… Hm, before I explain who I am, I have a series of short
questions you must know the answers to, alright? Hm… Are there any people
that speak funny? They can’t speak proper Lavonian, they look a little
different…”
The gathering started talking to each other, but without any kind of real
organisation, they couldn’t give a proper united answer, so Aidan had to do with
what he could overhear them gossip,
‘What is he doing here?’, ‘Breathing folks are forbidden, he must have
snuck out, the bastard!’ and the reply to that remark, ‘Surely, the Househead
will punish him severely once he returns home!’, but only other things like, ‘I
saw some man looking over us, he had a big ponytail. Does he mean that?’ or
‘Why doesn’t he speak formally. We’re retired, we don’t need to, but it’s
impolite to be alive and talk like that to Tunics!’
Having had enough, he made an effort to shout and command silence,
which was achieved successfully, and then addressed the crowd.
“My name is Aidan Fa-… Freedomfighter! I had an understanding with
Heriotza, my Househead, to go and film some movie at the Icetowers. You, how
did I get here?” he pointed at someone in particular in hopes of establishing
some kind of order in the answers.
“Me? I don’t know, I haven’t seen anything, but my mother, Jahana
Longman, over there somewhere, she told me that she saw you.” The man
shifted the responsibility to respond.
The woman, having heard her name, came forwards from the crowd to
speak to him,
“Yes, me and many other Tunics saw that an officer came and told us you
had an accident. She left you there right before the ship left harbour and told us
that you’d wake up and were supposed to be hear and that we should not worry.
So, for the most part, we just left you there to enjoy your sleep.”
“Sleep? I was fucking fainted!” Aidan rebuked her ignorance.
“Sleep, faint, same thing, not much different from a comma, just shorter.
Same thing. And just because you got everyone’s attention doesn’t mean you
get to not respect me, or any of us!”
Not wanting to put straw on the fire storm a-brewing, Aidan apologised
for swearing, in a broken formal language and bowing before the lady, gesture
which gave her the satisfaction of feeling powerful.
“Now that we finished apologising, I have something else to say. I might
sound crazy, but I’ve seen with my own eyes. The Icetowers are not a paradise,
they’ll just leave you there in the middle of nowhere. That crane will unload
those crates over there,” and he pointed to the seven or so metallic crates a
hundred meters away. “and you’ll be left there, in the middle of the ice!”
The people didn’t take him seriously, finding it amusing how such an
accident could make someone say such non-sense.
“I know it sounds ridiculous. Why would they do this? How? Why
nobody knows? How can they hide something like this? I don’t know either, I
just know what I saw.”
 Laughing, the crowd started to disperse. Seeing he was losing his
platform, he seized the moment to put one more question, screaming from the
bottom of his lungs,
“Where is Agure Freedomfighter? Agure, I’m here!”
His call was left unanswered besides a few Tunics who had the decency
to say they never met or never heard of him.
“Why would they get you on a cargo ship and not on a cruise? Why are
your Artefacts in those crates, huh? Why are they at the bow and the
accommodation as far as possible, next to the rudder, huh?” he yelled as he was
losing the last of his audience, like a mad preacher crying over the abandonment
of his followers, unable to convert them back to his religion.
He was left alone again and even though in regards to temperature
nothing had changed, a swift stab in the back from the wind sent the entirety of
his body shivering beneath his thin summer tunic. He took a break to plan his
next move by resting against the barrier with his back, in a foetal position, in
order to keep as warm as he could.
“This is not good, fuck no… I’m not on the same ship as Agure, in the
middle of strangers that think I’m crazy. Those bastards… Huh… I can’t blame
them. I was fooled into this, Ira convinced me not to take Unnquk seriously. I
should’ve listened to my guts, stupid me! Now look where you got yourself, not
standing your ground when you should’ve! One second all is fine, the next
you’re hungry, cold, aching among strangers, going to an early grave… I don’t
care why this is happening, but it can’t end like this…” he was meditating as he
starred at the moon and stars.
“If I don’t act now… It will only get worse. Hungrier. Thirstier. Weaker.
Colder. That’s when nothing could save me. I could try to crack open one of the
containers… No, what the fuck? You don’t know in which one, and they’d be
retarded not to put surveillance cameras there. Besides, with what? In good
shape you couldn’t crack one of those open. Think, Aidan…C’mon!”
To his surprise, he had company when a Tunic came closer.
“You’re shivering!” he noticed.
“Yeah…” Aidan replied with water-vapour steaming out of his mouth as
he said so, hoping the man would help him somehow.
 “Can I touch you?” he asked. “Not it a weird way, it’s just… I’ve been a
Tunic for so long I don’t remember how it feels like and my descendants never
had to endure the cold.”
“Sure.” Aidan approved as the man touched his arm and grabbed his
hand, carefully examining his face as he did so.
“Wow! It’s so… peculiar, awesome! It feels bad though, right?” he asked
and Aidan told him the truth.
“Can you get angry a little? When Tunics get v-very angry, you produce
heat. Can you help me?”
“I wish I could, but I am too happy to be going to my own mansion. I
couldn’t get angry, even if I tried. Why don’t you go inside the
accommodation? I’m sure the staff will welcome you in, maybe they can heat a
room for you, or lock you in the boiler room, that should make you feel better!”
“Thanks for the advice.” Aidan told him, pretending to be grateful. “I
will… I will do that right now… Yeah, definitely, what I’ll do… Now.” he said
while obviously thinking of something else, a plan forming in his mind.
He approached the accommodation and got there in about 15, which took
too long for a ship. Aidan convinced himself this were specifically designed for
this job, not as massive cargo ship. Only one small crane for the entirety of the
kilometre, at the very end. A distance too long for a Tunic to reach. As long as
the Artefacts were in those boxes, there was no way they could reach the
headquarters. In fact, once he passed a certain imaginary line, a voice spoke to
him through a speaker attached to the walls.
“Hen nue lauqen?” (* What you do?)
“Fucking knew it!” Aidan celebrated internally before speaking out loud,
“I am a Lavonian officer! I got hurt and fainted on the ship while loading! Can I
get inside?”
“Ikuat kolala!” (*Ikuat forbid!) the voice in the speaker said before
distant sound could be heard and a different voice continued,
“I am dze translator… Watz thy problem?”
“I am a soldier, I helpet loadet the cargo, I got hurtet and fainted. Let me
in and show me around or else…!” he threatened them, unsure what to say as he
didn’t know what he was legally allowed to do.
 “Waiteth twu minutz!” and then he was left alone with the sounds of the
waves and the salty smell of the sea.
True to their word, they came soon enough to accompany him. The first
impression they had of him was not the authority-inspiring commander Aidan
imagined. In fact, he was sure that they doubted his story by the looks they
exchanged at first when they came to greet him, but it didn’t matter too much at
the moment, as he was welcomed inside anyway.
The halls were dark and poorly lit and colder that the outside, to his
surprise. They escorted him through twists and turns and flights of stairs, until
they finally reached a corridor that was emanating heat, to Aidan’s delight. The
other two were wearing thick wool clothes and didn’t care much about the
difference.
“Dze room here is mine own, you will stayeth here until we goeth geteth
gooder translator and captain, oq?” the one on the right said, inviting him in.
Eager to enter, he made the fatal mistake of not insisting to have one of
them enter first. They pushed him from the back so hard that he fell on the floor
and locked the door behind him, creating a cell out of the room.
“Fucking Doomsland, not fucking again! Are you shitting me? If they
don’t simply throw me overboard next time, then my name ain’t Fa-… Shit! I
can’t even get this right? Damn!”
He figured there was no point in beating his firsts against the door. It
would only make him look more dangerous than he really was, so he took out
his frustration on the carpet instead.
Once finished, he was too tired to continue. The headache intensified and
it became too much to take in at once. Blocked inside a blank room with a desk,
a bed and a closet, he had nothing to do than accept the situation as it was.
“Birdsnakes! If I sleep, they could come in and tie me… Though they just
locked me here when they could’ve done worse, so I guess they most likely
won’t. Urgh! Damn it, I don’t care… this headache… let them come whenever
they want.” He told himself as he threw himself unto the bed.
The comfort of a bed… He missed it. He couldn’t rest well in the airplane
without a seat and since he landed… Well, he couldn’t really relax since either.
It reminded him of the last time he had such comfort, this morning.
“It was only this morning? This… cursed morning… It- it feels like d-
days, like weeks… This morning? Where the fuck am I? How did you let
yourself get dragged here? You piece of shit, you didn’t even resist properly!
You didn’t act correctly… You, you could’ve escaped if you took life in your
own hands when you hid in the toilet! Now what do you have? Nothing!
Fucking nothing! You were better off on your own with your life in your own
hands! You can’t even enjoy the memory of this morning now, fucker, you
ruined it! Took it, spit on it and wiped your ass with it! She was right next to
you, and you were ‘kind enough’ not to disturb her… Do you even think about
yourself? What you need? Fuck her slightly not ‘perfect morning’, you would
have something to cling onto! Now you’re fucking stuck, alone, between
insanity and death! Look: Neka, failed to save you or even was part of this shit,
he was very stressed this morning; Agure, was fooled; Heriotza… he’s behind
this, no shit happens without his permission! Backstabber! Fucking traitor! I…
I’m gonna… Who am I fooling, I won’t…” he though as he started sobbing,
unable to hold back the tears anymore.
The pain from the wound, the stress, the crying, all added together to
form the ultimate volcano of pain suffering and agony, accentuated by every
pulsation the heart sent to those veins. It was too much, and though he still had
emotional fuel to burn his feelings of regret, frustration, blame and anger, he
couldn’t. He was too exhausted. The pain was still there, but felt number, until
he fell asleep with the words ‘this fucking morning’ on his lips.
Dzuriq’s turn was interrupted by the sound of running on the corridors
approaching. Preparing for whatever was the message, Kalik left the table and
headed for the door. Buyaan and Ynutu burst in the room breathing heavily.
“Kalik! We got a problem! A big one!” Buyaan initiated the conversation.
“What’s going on? A leak of oil? Crates overboard? Rebellious
Icesouls?” he listed some possible issues.
“Not that, but similar levels of magnitude.” Buyaan explained and his
colleague continued.
“A Lavonian breathing man is on board. He’s injured at the head, but can
walk on his own, no bleeding. He pretends to be an Officer that had an accident
while loading the crates. He’s wearing the robe of the Icesouls. I don’t know
what’s up with him, but he’s not supposed to be on the ship.”
“Where is he? He must be contained and interrogated right away!” Kalik
reacted to the news, clearing his face by rubbing his palm against it.
“We already locked him in my room.” Buyaan responded.
 “Good, good. You two get back to your posts, the watch needs keeping!
Hula, Dzuriq and the Jola, you take the key from Buyaan and dragged the man
here at all cost! Nunnuk, get some rope from the depo and Hakaana prepare this
room for interrogation! The rest, don’t stand in their way and get some
notebooks, we need witness accounts of everything that’s going on!” he ordered
around, pointing with his finger the people and the general direction they were
supposed to head. Jola got to appreciate the tough and imposing side of the
captain, as before he only saw the friendly face when he initiated the dialogue.
Ira was already up and just coming from the closet room when Aidan
woke up, with a question for him.
“So, what do you want to do today? Should we go for another walk?” she
asked cheerfully and enthusiastically for Aidan to respond.
“Uh, not really. We walked enough yesterday. My hands and feet are
sore. Let’s do something else.” He replied and as he rose up from the bed he
found himself next to her in her car as she was driving on some dangerous road,
swinging him around in the car with force from side to side.
“Ain’t it fun?” she chuckled, looking at him instead of the road.
He stared back as she was still drifting, not breaking eye contact with
him, and just as she began widening her smile they plunged into a lake with the
car.
He woke up having had a glass of water poured on his face. He
instinctually wanted to run away, but found himself tied to a chair, surrounded
by Miqhuns.
“Can you people give me a fucking break?! I was dreaming some good
shit; I was in a better place!” and then he shook his head to get rid of some
droplets that were going to enter his eyes. “Great, these were the only clothes I
had. Now they’re wet!”
“D’ya tzink tzis is a fucking joke, don’ya? Tough luck, whatzorname!”
Kalik said and, to reinforce his authority, slammed the table really hard.
“Wherefore art ya on tze ship?”
“Wow, you can speak like Unnquk, I met one of your kind back in
Lanvos, pretty good all in all. Anyway, um… I’m not sure, I don’t want to be
here, actually. I’d rather return to my cozy home and loving wife, but I’m stuck
on a ship heading to the fucking Icetowers, and I know what they really are. No
mansions there for anyone, am I right?”
 The crew was confused and they exchanged whispers and gossip between
them. The captain allowed this to go on as he also had to process what he heard.
Eventually, he ordered and got silence.
“I believe we would both benefit from yar release, as a sign-o good
intentions. Shall we?” and then he ordered Hula to untie him, while also
commanding everyone to be on guard in case he tried anything fishy.
Seeing himself free, Aidan decided the best course of action would be
collaboration.
“My name is Aidan Fr-… Farefax. Sorry, recently married, I keep
confusing them. I want to know what is going on.”
“Ya know already well watz happening. We art Miqhuns, people-o tze
Fierce Sea, roamers-o Soutz Water. We deliver the ‘cargo’ to tze Icetowers, as
ya call them. We do as such by order-o tze Lavonian Association’s Intelligence
Service. I am capt’n Kalik Hillaquk-o Lavonian Association’s Paul Bear. What
do ya know of Unnquk?”
Aidan’s eyes brightened up as he finally met someone know seemed to
know Unnquk, seeing an opportunity to find support and salvation from this
nightmare, a shot at waking up to a better reality.
The interview continued for another three hours into the night, until the
break of dawn. Hula and Dzuriq had left in the meantime to enter their shift and
Aidan was left with the captain, Jola and about four other men to continue the
dialogue. By the end they built up enough trust in each other that Aidan was
served some water and even received an apology for the way he was woken up
and treated by the others. He understood their precautions and forgave them.
“I can not belaive it! Tzey made it and tzen nobody listened! Our vorst
fearz… Tzey art all dead, most likely, by now. Those laka (*shit eaters) only
pretend to care about murder, I can feel it! Ya being here, tzat clearly breaks the
Treaty of Soutz Water! We doth not ship anyone to their certain deatz, tzats for
sure! Vile creatures…” he shook his head in horror.
“And I am so sorry I didn’t believe your clansman. No offense taken, I
hope.” Aidan tried to excuse his mistake.
“Ya stop it, the problem was with not belaiving, the clansman is
irrelevant. I never met him in person, yar obsession with clans and family is
weird. Just like the weird technology that makes those calls between people at
the Icetowers and their descendants. I know for sure nothing like that is real. I
do not know how they do it. No wonder no-one belaives, we can not really
blame you with such twisted…things.” the captain replied.
“I need some time off to take this in too. As I told you, it’s true, nobody
knows of this occupation. Everyone thinks you were all genocided in the War of
Unification.”
“Almosh true, but dze Hakdans done do it. Yee was saviourz, that was a-
while back. Only Story-Tellers ‘membere end teach-o that.” Some crewman
commented.
“Yes, I understand. I am sure that the people of Lanvos would be
repulsed, both by this whole operation and by the conditions you live in. I’ll
help you achieve the same standards of living as us.” Aidan promised in vain,
for he himself wasn’t sure how people would react. He was sure some would
agree with him, but it was easy to imagine just as many not giving a damn and
seeing these people as inferior and uncivilised.
“No need, most Miqhuns do not want to be part-o yar culture, we have
our own stories, villages, customs. Yar city life and working Icesouls don’t fit in
with us. If the smoke stopped from tze North and the soldiers retreated, we’d
have no problem. Call it…” Kalik paused to think, “whatever, ‘autonomous
province’, we care little-o names as long as in practice we art free. You
understand tzat even us such, we live better tzan before. Tze smoke only makes
people sick, tze land is barren-o crops either way. Too rocky, tzat why we fish,
traditionally.”
“Um… Alright, you do you,” Aidan got to say before being interrupted.
“Ya do ya?” the captain asked.
“Yes, it means ‘do as you please’, I supposed you were unaware of this
saying?” he guessed right as one of them wrote down the expression on some
paper that should’ve contained the interrogation if Aidan proved to be
uncooperative. “Anyway, it puzzles me how deep it goes if they covered
Unnquk up with that story… And how? Agure didn’t know shit about this, he
wouldn’t send himself there… That Heriotza! But then again, how? We’re a
democracy, we chose our ministers. Heriotza himself get a term once a decade,
at most… It’s impossible for hundreds for years every elected parliament
deputy to be bribed into conformation with this… this fucking atrocity! It’s
genocide painted over!”
“Yeh, we do not know either. Tzey just want it done and we do it.
Mutually beneficial, with them getting more from tzis deal than us.”
 “What now, Kalik?” a crewmember asked.
“I have to take some time to decide what we have to do. Until then don’t
change course. This shipment needs to be sent.” And he reinforced his word by
firmly pressing his index finger on the table. “We’re watched with the Eye-
from-Above. If we turn back, we get attacked and sunk.” and then turned to
Aidan to also tell him. “Eye-from-Above is a machine-o tze sky, far up high. Itz
like a camera, but better, more technology. It sees where ship is going. Tzat why
we never try to escape by boat. Tzey just send anotzer ship and sink us. We will
not change course. Tzese people have to get to the Icetowers or we all die, to be
blunt about it. I will tzink whatz our next move. Ya can always find me in my
cabin. Itz more-o a big room, doe, to be humble.”
Aidan was surprised and couldn’t tell what this machine referred to, but
he was getting too tired to ask any more questions, besides a favour that we
wanted from them, “One more thing, Kalik!” Aidan begged.
“What?” he asked as he was preparing to leave.
“Do you have a PTV? I would like to call my wife, just to tell her I’m
alive in case Heriotza lies to her about this.”
With pity in his eyes, Kalik gave his approval,
“Forecast says tzere should be a storm tzis afternoon. Ya will disconnect
PTV from Eye-from-Above and use the lack-o signal during storm to hide tze
call. Be short. Tzis is a risk eitzer way, we can still be intercepted tru a
connection with a military Eye-from-Above. Consider tzis a gift-o my
friendship.” he explained his conditions and then left the room.
Aidan thanked him and looked forward to that moment, both because of
genuine care for her, but also to distract himself from his complicity in the
crime against everything he stood for. At least for now, he could take a break
and follow a crewman to his new room.

Chapter 14: This never happened

By the time Ira woke up and rang the bell, Neka hadn’t returned from the
airport, so Itzal had to prepare her some breakfast.
“Already gone? Huh, how nice of him not to wake me up!” she thought
as she found herself all alone in the room.
 She did her morning routine, smoked some Khala, and then went down
for some breakfast. Considering she woke up in the latter half of the morning,
Itzal in the meantime unfroze some champagne-pickled oysters that had been
prepared the previous day, which now would be served on fresh toast.
Eating by herself, she was planning what to do that day,
“Right, now I could use some swimming, so I think I’ll go to the pool at
rd
the 3 tower’s balcony. But before I have scheduled some gym exercises… I
almost forgot it’s Sunday. And then… I’ll talk to Neka or the new branch
manager to plan a holiday in Nan Hay, that’d be sweet. Some driving around in
the afternoon and then before going to bed I’ll try to write a paper on the
Hakdan mythos and it’s similarities to the Muhtenesh.”
As she was enjoying her brunch and slightly moving her feet beneath the
table, she encountered resistance and realised there was something there. Taking
a look, she saw Igon passed out beneath the table.
“Aw, damn it! Could you at least not do it in the grand hall? When did
you even get there?!” she yelled at him, getting only a faded grunt in response.
“Great, I’m talking to myself again…” she realised, rolling her eyes.
To make things worse, she could hear now the elevator descending
followed by the cries of a baby. She turned her head to see Zuzen walking
behind his wife, who was pushing the stroller. While her husband was smiling
and stepping proudly, she wasn’t looking as bright. Sure, her clothing and
makeup were great. An orange dress that seemed to be cut un half diagonally
across her abdomen, but was actually still connected through the back suited
well her long brown hair and yellow glow eyelid makeup and the crown of
yellow narcissus flowers. Something about the way she was looking at
everything around her, with a degree of detachment and blank, yet wary eyes,
bored and easily annoyed.
As they came closer and saluted each other, Ira asked,
“Would thou possess enough kindness as to taketh lil’ Igo from
underneath the table? I remembereth I saw thee at the gym and I am positive
thou art in no position t’be incapable o’ such, physically speaking.”
“While indeed routine and discipline pay off for the dedicated, fellow
gym-attending, aunt o’ my offspring, and yet I must occupy mine own self with
other duties. The coming o’ the age o’ 6 months o’ my boy Hondatua shall be
marked at a special meeting with a few other intellectuals.” and then he took his
own PTV and called someone while continuing, “I shalt, though, pass the
responsibility t’ the second most appropriate person, as the usual designate fo’
such things is forced t’escort a certain individual.”. As soon as the call was
answered, he began in a much more commanding and less relaxed voice.
“But, sirrah, the fish! I can’t cease at the moment, I findeth mine own self
in the mist o’ frying!” the other voice told him.
“I said now! Or hast thou infereth that I had stuttered? Methinks thou art
keen o’ being employed…” and then he closed before the man could reply
anything. Putting his PTV back, he exclaimed, “Considereth the deed
accomplished!”
Preparing to leave, his wife asked him in a whisper too loud to be
secretive,
“She’s the-?”
“Yes.” He cut her short as she looked with disgust at her for a second.
“Ugh!” Ira told herself, “I can’t believe now I’ll get to see that smug-face
more often. Zuzen is bad enough on his own, I don’t need his bitch!” and then
calmed down, “oh, fuck ‘em. I don’t even care, why am I so angry? Makes no
sense. Just like you Zuzy,” and then she sighed while thinking, “Just like you.”
In a few seconds from that moment, Itzal came out of the kitchen
running, with one question for her,
“Please, lady Irakasle, be kind enough to tell me if you know the
whereabouts o’ mista’ Zuzen’s brother, Igon?”
“Damn it, the bastard!” she exclaimed and then turned at him. “Now I
order you to get back to your fish!”
“But…” he mumbled confused.
“Did I stutter? Go do your job!”
“Thy parents shalt appreciateth the fish. Thank thee!” and them he rushed
back into the kitchen.
“Well… I guess I’ll have to drag him out of here. I think I’ll leave him on
the lawn… in the area of the sprinkles! Or should I? Hm… Yeah, at least he
can’t disrespect anyone there, but himself, of course.”
After finishing her breakfast, having kicked him a little while at it, she
dragged him out through the door and to the lawn right off the pathway in front
of the entrance. She took enough care not to hurt him too bad while descending
the stairs. As she approached the sprinkler though, a thought crossed her mind,
“Hm… This does not seem right… It’s a little overkill, isn’t it? I guess
so… I mean I’m already tired from dragging him all the way to here… and it’d
be a dick move, wouldn’t it? Uh, fine.”
“Good news!” she announced him. “In case you can hear me, you just
escaped an involuntary shower! Congratulations!” she proclaimed sarcastically.
A purposeful groan followed. It was weird how she could tell it meant
something, so knowing she was being listened to, she said goodbye,
“Best regards… Uh… Igon!” and then bowed before the flat laying body
and headed back to her room to change in some sporty clothes for the gym
session.
A few hours later, as she was relaxing in the pool on the balcony next to a
few cousins she was engaging in pleasant, simple small talk with while enjoying
the sunlight, she could hear some footsteps. They stopped right next to her head,
yet there was no shadow to eclipse the sun.
“Have any o’ yee ordered victuals or beverages?” she asked with her eyes
still closed.
Instead of any of them replying, the figure introduced itself, “Miss? I
mean, lady…?” and it was instantly recognised as Neka.
Pleasantly surprised, she greeted him, “Oh, hey! I just announced the
folks over here o’ my new plan. I’d wish to fly to Nan Hay by means o’
helicopter in the meantime o’ my husband’s departure, and then I’d love, after a
few days spent there, t’ go to Soulin and walk the neon streets, maybe acquire
something bright and personalised… Thee art invited. Please talk t’ the new
branch manager and organise this, a.f.o!”
The last abbreviation was followed by chuckles from the rest and herself,
after which he explained,
“I learned ‘tis the manner one is to abbreviate ‘a first opportunity’ in
extremely informal messaging context. I hope thee art aware o’ the irony and
find it entertaining.”
“I will, once thee art aware o’ the news I am about to bring to thy
attention-” and he was interrupted by her again.
 “Bringeth it on!” she said enthusiastically, neverminding the slow and
remorseful voice he was approaching the subject with.
“I was hoping fo’ a private audience, but ‘tis no state secret… To put it
lightly, I was announced as I arrived back here at the residence, by the Lavonian
police… that thy husband’s plane has crashed in the War Memorial Forest. No
Tunics survived, the Artefact department was consumed by flames and… thy
husband was… not there in a breathing state, to avoid using more adequate
terms.”
Her heart skipped a few beats and all of a sudden, she stood upright, only
to submerge her face under the water and then aggressively brush her palms
against it. Her eyes here wide open and stayed like that until too much water
poured from her hair into them. Then she repeated the procedure again, washing
face again in the hopes of calming down the flush of fire flooding her. It was
everywhere, starting from the spine, right behind heart, spreading like a
lightning and taking up every part of her like a gas fills a chamber. It was
pushing away, towards her fingers and other extremities, the previous calm,
utterly annihilating any sense of peace. At first, the shiver was cold, having the
deepness and intensity of one’s bones turning into carbonic ice and freezing the
nervous system from inside. This shiver culminated with a forced exit. She lost
all focus for a second, seeing the same things as before, but not the same. They
were just echoes of an image, a memory, for in that moment she was not there,
but trapped by her disintegrated conscious train of thought inside her own body,
a being without self as the brain was adjusting to the shock, trying to cope with
it. And then the ice melted away into its gas form, expanding her from the
inside, causing a general nausea followed by the actual fire, the burning feeling
of pressure, like two metals fused together by the heat of the friction. While at
this point regaining her ego, she was not in control. Her fingers were mildly
convulsing under the water and her mouth was half open. She had to rediscover
herself from this paralysis and learn which burn was corresponding to which
part of her, taking a virtual tour of herself before moving and saying anything
else. That’s when she realised that the rest were speaking, but their voices were
still filler, the brain refusing to spend resources on decoding them, only
acknowledging their existence. Her smell had also stopped, and now she
rediscovered she was in water with half of her body. She left the pool using the
most primitive form of navigation, the instinctual spatial memory, and then as
she left she was hit by a wave of physical cold having left the warmth of the
pool, but it was countered by her flaming insides fuelled by her heart and the
adrenaline she could feel her kidneys were spreading. The steam resulted would
have caused her hair to rise up with her goose bumps, if she hadn’t epilated it.
 “Y-yes. Let’s… go in private, yeah…”
They walked to the changing room, were she finally got the composure to
think this through and have a conversation with Neka, who was patiently
waiting for her to express herself, as he held his arm above her shoulder in a
sign of compassion.
“Right, so… Where is he? He’ll go to his Artefact once he dies, he’s still
around somewhere? Isn’t he in my room? Anywhere around the tower? He’s not
here… Not… here…” she muttered, coming to the realisation that she was not
his Artefact. Later in life she’d be glad of this, but now… it was different.
Maybe even later in life she wouldn’t be mad about it. That’s what she felt now,
just wanting to make sure he’s alright. It was not the time to debate her feelings
about becoming an Artefact, that would come later. In such moments it didn’t
matter. In such moments, nothing, yet everything, mattered at the same time.
“I wouldn’t have come to you without him if he was indeed on this
propriety.” he confessed, rubbing his hand over her upper arm in soothe her
pain as much as he could.
“Then he must be somewhere else! He could be at work! Or at Exelor’s!
Or at Sam’s! Damn, he could even be at that hoe Jenny, maybe never got over
that!” she exclaimed, getting dried and changing into proper clothing.
“But why didn’t he call?” Neka was trying to wake her up to the most
likely reality. She refused and clang fiercely onto the scenario, defending it at
all cost as if her own life depended on it.
“You know him, maybe he’s doing… I don’t know, trying to figure out
what happened. Maybe he’s confused. Or maybe just meditating, coming to
terms. Maybe he wants to protect me and doesn’t tell me. Maybe he’s trying to
cry in some corner uncapable of coping. I know he’d get into ‘what does this all
mean?’, ‘why?’, ‘now what?’, ‘how did I let this happen?’ or some other
philosophical or moral bullshit about it. Maybe he’s afraid Heriotza will put him
to work, he told me of one time when he helped a Tunic that also died suddenly
and those fuckers at management level abused her. I don’t know, didn’t I give
you enough reasons?”
Neka was surprised by the number of excuses she was able to come up
with right off the bat. Her aggressivity also marvelled him as she was changing
taking little to no care for where she was throwing her clothes or with how
many sudden moves it required to put something on. As soon she was finished,
she rushed down towards the elevator, dragging Neka behind her and telling
him her plan.
 “You take whatever car you can and get the fuck to his office. I’ll send
you the address by message in a moment. You check that out, and his
apartment. I’ll go to Exelor’s and Sam’s. Understood? I don’t care how much
you go over the speed limit. I’ll pay for whatever fine or punishment you get.
DON’T WASTE ONE SECOND!”
Caught in the rush of anger, too busy to doubt herself and too determined
to question anything, she kept herself away from the grim reality, and Neka saw
that. He decided to let it play out and let her exhaust herself in her pointless
Sisyphean quest. He indeed took a car, but didn’t actually drive to any of those
places, for he knew it had no point. He just went far enough for Ira not to notice
him and then returned home while she was on her imaginary rescue mission.
Not even while driving and drifting at every turn did she stop to think of
anything else. To keep herself in a constant state of agitation, she resorted to
pure fiction, imagining herself arriving at Exelor’s, yelling at Judy the
explanations, while she just says that she doesn’t know anything, but then when
she goes to Sam’s she would find them both in a room in the middle of talking
with each other, both depressed- or not, no, that would calm her. No, she
imagined herself finding them having fun and waste time. That would anger her,
knowing that he was so worry-free while she was busting her ass off to find
him. How insensible of him to do that! How could he?! He would pay for this!
She kept making scenarios in her head to keep herself engaged and enraged, to
fuel her hope and denial. She first stopped by at Exelor’s and similarly to her
fantasies she burst in while a whirlpool, but instead of shouting she just came
straight up to Judy and asked, slamming her hands on the couter.
“IS HE HERE???”
Judy was confused and shocked by her stressed out complexion and
despaired mannerisms, but she still answered right away,’
“I assume you mean Aidan? No, I’ve not seen him since you two-” but
she could not finish for Ira was already running back to her car, leaving little
explanations for this incident behind,
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Damn it! I’ll tell you later!”
This left Judy to calm down the clients and convince them not to sue the
local for the perturbance and to dismiss accusations of being acquainted with
someone so mannerlessly behaved and dressed like a Houseless person.
She took a breath of air in a pause and realised she could call Sam. Big
mistake, she realised, for that would mean getting an answer right away. That’s
not what she wanted. She wanted an excuse for hope, so she restarted her
maniacal restless state and headed to Sam, wishing for Neka to end her
electrified energetic state with a call that he had found him, just like anyone
wishes to avoid the Doomsland like the plague after they stop existing. She took
some Khala again before going to drive, which only gave her a rush of more
energy, intensifying her feelings while at the same time numbing ever so
slightly her ability to process them, allowing her to run at max capacity.
On the way she had to avoid several times incoming crashes and had little
regard for any rules, leaving breaking marks on the asphalt all over the place
through Centres 2, 3 and 4, until she finally reached the propriety. The entrance
was done by means of a drive-through blocked by a retractable barrier. She
pulled the window down and spoke through the microphone.
“I came to see Samuel the 24th, I have no appointment, but I am his
friend’s wife, Ira Freedomfighter. Please raise the damn thing!” she yelled at the
machine.
“He shalt be announced o’ thy presence right away. Please park
accordingly, in the dedicated area, and headeth t’the waiting room!” a voice
replied robotically.
She did just that and was guided by some signs to the main entrance to
the three-story mansion. The waiting room was the antechamber to the actual
hallway leading to their own great hall. She sat on one of the red, padded
armchair, which stood in contrast with the gold and green colour palette of the
lavishly decorated walls.
Standing there, with one foot over the other and shaking the one below,
she leaned forwards over her left arm while she was taking more puffs of Khala
with her right. She checked the door to the interior periodically, once every five
or so seconds, constantly changing her view’s focus point from one ornamental
element drawn on the wall to another. She got to counting the tiles on the floor
afterwards, but she got bored before reaching twenty, so she began counting the
number of leaves on a vine drawn on the wall in front of her, only for them to
prove to be too small and require too much attention. As such, she got back to
counting tiles, at first from left to right horizontally, them from right to left
vertically and then keep on changing the patterns as her attention span
diminished. When she got to counting the hundreds, it became too monotonous
to keep the ‘one hundred’ in front of the number, so she just started counting
again, keeping in the back of her mind the hundred’s digit. Her leg started to
hurt from the shaking and the circulation in her left arm stop by the time Sam
entered.
“Ira! What a surprise to-… Seagles, you look terrible! What…Um…
Why are you here?” he began innocently.
This innocence, his blissful ignorance to her reality hurt, stabbed at her
hope as another wave of ice-cold heat smashed inside her. And yet, she kept as
much composure as she could and tried not to jump to conclusions.
“Is Aidan here?” she asked as fast as she could, unable to stop the rush
she instigated.
“Why would he? He told you he’s off to the Icetowers, right? I mean, he
told me yesterday by message, I’d be surprised if you-…”
“Is Jenny here?” she changed the subject.
“What? Why?” he asked baffled, not seeing any continuity in her
thoughts and frowning his eyebrows.
“Is she?” Ira just persisted and got a positive answer straight away.
“Why? What do you care? Did he cheat or something? No matter what
you heard, my man Aidan wouldn’t do that, to anyone, especially not to you. I
swear on his behalf, let’s just talk this thr-…”
“His plane crashed. His body was there, but he was not. He’s not at my
place, neither at Exelor’s. My butler didn’t call me. He’s not at work… and not
here. Where could he be?” she explained, taking another big smoke and making
eye contact with Sam, who could read behind her stressed and messed face a
vulnerability. Knowing her superficially only, he was scarred by this. He never
imagined she could have that… dying light behind her dry eyes.
“Um… Let me think… Maybe the orphanage? He was affected by that
very much. He wasn’t attached to a person in particular, he only ever talked
more than a sentence about Jenny and some dude William, but I doubt that if
you are not his Artefact, William could be. If he’s not there… My soul be
damned to Doomsland… No way! What did he take with him on the plane?”
“Tunics… Some other clothes, some food I suppose, his PTV and a few
other things. Nothing that he was too attached to… except those damn tunics.
He wore one at the Gathering yesterday, he wore others most of the time. He
barely wore any of his new clothes. But it can’t be… It just can’t. No way, no!”
Sam had to act quickly, so he took initiative,
 “Alright, um… You look like shit, excuse the truth, and I’m sure you’re
too distressed to drive. I’ll take you to the orphanage.”
Ira handed him the keys and sat on the passenger seat next to Sam, whose
first reaction once inside was to ask what happened to the tires of the vehicle,
and was left to assume the truth by Ira’s simplistic ‘I was in a hurry.’ response.
On the way, she called Neka, who told her he found nobody in or around
the apartment and that he obtained permission to get into the office, where he
found nobody either. Ira’s hope was on its last breaths and would’ve died by
now, not even checking the orphanage, if it wouldn’t make enough sense for it
to still be plausible. It was plausible enough, for her.
She began the process of calming down and a headache hit her, for which
she took a pill she always kept in her car. This didn’t bring her peace. Before
she was preoccupied by something, be in driving or smoking or imagining
something. Now she only had to follow the road with her eyes, to look at the
surrounding buildings, to stare at the sky, anything not to be alone with herself
and the realisation. She blasted the volume of a song on the radio up, because
she disliked it. That way the annoyance could take her mind off the bigger
problem. Sam didn’t help by being silent, but she understood he had to
concentrate and was probably himself going through something similar.
They arrived at the orphanage after a torturous waiting. She was playing
with her hair and fingers, fussing her toes in her shoes and sweating profusely,
while waiting for someone to let them in. After a few moments, when a Tunic
opened the door and inquired them of the business they had there, Sam had to
explain why they were there. She muted herself, unable to open her mouth,
becoming one with the surroundings as she was consumed by anticipation,
chewed by the feeling that just rose and rose up to a boiling point of dread and
then the anxiety pushed her into the endless abyss of an uninterrupted sense of
freefalling into doom as the Tunic shook their head. The denial exploded and
burned her heart like hard liquor hurts the neck and suffocates one with the
smell of alcohol. She stopped her signs of stress.
“Alright, thank you.” she said to the Tunic on a deadpan voice. “Can you
drive me home? I’ll call a cab for you.” she asked Sam, somehow more defeated
and emptier with her tone than with the previous sentence.
Without looking at anyone, she went back to the car and Sam followed.
There were two people there, both in shock, both incapable of processing their
reality. Two people that wanted the same thing. To break down crying, to
express their suffering and to comfort each other, yet instead they stayed silent.
Sam wanted to not embarrass himself and fall through the chair or through the
floor of the car, so he concentrated on keeping contact with the world around
him. He had to do it. He had to be strong, to offer Ira a shoulder to cry on if she
broke down. No, there was no way that he would deal with himself now. He had
somebody else that needed him. Ira herself kept her composure and eyes dry.
She embraced the nothingness instead of fighting it or letting it pour out. Sam
was having just as much trouble going through this. The last thing he needed
was to have a crybaby by his side. He didn’t ask to be here, she just showed up
at his door and forced him to offer his help. Besides, she could get over it…
Couldn’t she? Yes… yes, she was that strong! She would get over it as she was
supposed to, with strength, without a single tear shed! She could, she lied to
herself. As such, two people wanting the same thing, unbeknownst to each
other, tortured one another by doing literally nothing. Wanting to keep the
silence, she took the music volume down and listened to the engine the entire
way back home. That’s what she became, the listener. She identified herself
with listening that sound and thought of nothing else, no more and no less.
Anything to run and escape being herself and accepting her weakness and
vulnerability. Sam’s face was impossible to read, without blushing or any sign
of distress. Ira figured he was now going through his own denial.
When they arrived and Sam departed, Neka was waiting for her at the
bottom of the stairs, with unsurprised, bored, even annoyed eyes. His face was
saying something else entirely, sending a totally opposite compassionate feeling
of understanding towards her. She was too tired to dig into it right now, instead
she asked,
“Where is Igo? I… I need a punching bag.” she murmured, barely able to
speak without her voice cracking.
“He’s sobered in his room, unfortunately. I will give you the privacy you
need. There is a sandwich in your room already. I’ll come over tomorrow and
discuss matters of… I’m not going to say it.” and then he patted her on the back.
She left and headed slowly, with her eyes looking straight down to Igon’s
room. She knocked on the door and rested against the frame, too tired to keep a
proper, straight posture.
“Yeah? Holy damned Doomsland, you look like shit!” he opened the door
to be met by the terrible sight of his sister.
“Uh… Got some Yukai?” she asked, inviting herself in his apartment, a
place overrun by trash, a few stains of vomit, needles and empty cigarettes.
 “I would, but I have just one more dose and it’s important for my plan
that I get high tomorrow at 9 a.m.” he refused, following her as she sat on the
side of his bed.
“What?! Plan? Fuck your plan, I don’t care! To Doomsland with your
‘plan’, whatever that is! You faint all over the place every day; can you stop for
a second with your shitty plan and just give me the syringe?!”
“Alright, I’ll wake up earlier and then buy some more in the morning, I
guess I can do that. I’m still not giving it to you. I don’t know what happened,
but you look like you fought off a pack of wolves. I’m not going to be
responsible for your bad trip. No-no!” he denied her again, standing strong for
whatever was best for her.
“Please, Igon… Just… please…” she forced herself to say as the
headache was coming back. “I… can’t stay like this… I don’t want this, I’ll tell
you later, but Aidan is… fuck this shit, just give it to me… pretty please!”
Surprised by her speech, which was at the limit of begging, he took pitty
on her and decided to make an exception for her and took a packed syringe from
a drawer and opened it, giving her the dose.
“I warned you, don’t say I didn’t!” he warned her again as she nabbed the
needle and ran with it out of his room and into hers.
She rolled her sleeve up and contacted her muscles, feeling where a larger
vein was and injecting the Yukaitamine into her bloodstream. She quickly took
then the needle out and put it on the nightstand as she collapsed into her pillows.
She was losing control over herself, this time entirely and for a longer period of
time. Tears rolled down her eyes and she covered her face with a pillow to both
shed her tears into it and to help her silence her sobbing and weeping. After a
minute of that the effect of the substance kicked in and she stopped crying and
weeping, with the last of her dying strength taking the pillow of her face just as
they became as numb and paralysed as the rest of her body.
Igon was right. It didn’t have the effect it had when she tried it in the past.
There was no feeling of ecstasy and joy to bathe in, no lessening of worries, no
melting into irrational happiness. While outside petrified and unmoving, she
was running in a lucid dream with decapitated dogs biting into her angles. She
tried to change them and turned the source of her pain into razors stuck in her
meat. She collapsed and all kinds of horrible things happened. She could not
name of them, they were always changing, never fully materialising, only
scaring her. Impossible to stop, she could not wake up, she was trapped inside
her own body, succeeding only in regaining view of her room, a spinning view
of a window, but unable to create a focus point, or even wink. Still, the same
dread for destroying her, so she returned to the illusion of the nightmare. She
realised that the drums she was hearing in the background were her own racing
heartbeats, and spent the next few hours in the terror inside, having people
throw her off cliffs and letting her fall into the sea were her own face and body
here rotting away and covered by seaweed.
For the fly moving at random through her room though, only a few
minutes passed. It could notice, if it had the cognitive ability to do so, how her
eyes were looking it the distance scarred, mirroring her fears on the inside. The
fear of being betrayed, caused by knowing that she was not his Artefact and he
cared about something else more, when she was sure she could trust him with
everything. The fear of having been used by him to ascend the social ladder,
which could not be comprehended by the fly, a simpler organism blessed to not
know what being truly conscious and truly self-aware was. The fear of losing
something unique, losing someone unlike anyone else, and being forced to live
the rest of her life either with someone worse or alone. The fly didn’t have to
worry about any of that. It didn’t need substances to numb the pain, it wasn’t
cursed with freedom. Neither with freedom of ecstasy nor freedom of anxiety.
At least after those minutes of torture, it was all over. She fainted, her
brain just shut down and worked on itself and became just like the fly, a being
responding to stimuli and having the vaguest of strategies, without a
consciousness to torment it.
Just as all things have to come to an end, Ira had to wake up in the
morning, half-refreshed, and having to realise yesterday was not a dream. It
made her be low, but no longer incapable of dealing with her reality.
Sighing more than breathing, she prepared herself a bath, talking with a
sad, depressed tone to Anima, which now sounded cold, without a trace of
sympathy in her voice. There was nothing else to expect from software, yet it
was disappointing. It was not cool anymore, it was… stupid, Ira figured. In the
hot water, she took some tears off her heart, the heat that reached all around her
feeling comforting, as if the Universe was for once hugging, instead of fucking
her over. A type of hug that she could never get from anyone, a fact that
saddened her even more and squeezed out a few more watery drops.
She put on a light sky blue long-sleeved dress with many transparent
stripes all around it, the typical mourning attire for a widow, and then smoked
some Khala. Next, she went down and bumped into Neka on her way to the
kitchen.
 “Here you are! Are you alright?” she asked with a worried voice.
“Yes, I’ll get over it… Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” she ensured him.
“Should I let you go and eat something?” he asked her.
“No, I’m not hungry. I was looking for you. We can talk about funeral
business, when we’ll get the body and all that.”
“Look, it’s almost 3 in the afternoon, let’s go to your room and talk about
this, alright?” he proposed and they proceeded to do so.
In her room, they started talking and Neka came with the news that the
body wasn’t even a body anymore, it was carbonised to the decreed where it
disintegrated at touch. It could only be recognised as a person, and the identity
was ruled based on the fact that Aidan was the only living man on board. Then,
in the middle of describing how the funeral will take place without ashes in the
jar, Neka ordered anima to turn the TV on to the local channel, where a reporter
presenting the situation of the crashed plane and the tragedy of the man that lost
his life. She concluded saying that there were no reports weather the man’s
Artefact was on board or not.
“Somebody… somebody has to pay for this! The family of the pilot, the
motherfucker got away so easily by ceasing to exist in that crash! I, I mean we,
would’ve turned his or her life into a nightmare! I don’t know, what can we do
now? Ask for compensation and drain them of all their money? I don’t think
there’s much else we can do, can we?” she asked angrily, “Have you talked to
the new branch manager? Can we do that? Pretty please!” she asked with
disturbing child-like enthusiasm.
“I have, and sirrah Ypurd is… Well, he’s not Agure. He had a soft spot
for you, I think you are aware of that. Mister Ypurd is much more interested in
other things. He doesn’t want a lengthy, expensive trial with limited chances of
success, to put it lightly. He is more interested in other ways of saving
money…” Neka tried to deliver some news as gently as he could.
“What do you mean?” she asked him, not seeing where this was going.
“Well, your cousin Arantzazu isn’t yet married and Ypurd intends to
marry you to her. No ceremony like you had with Aidan, just paperwork. And
there will be a permanent reduction in the budget for your spendings. He got a
few dozen fines yesterday. It’s not cheap to pay for you running with 100 km/h
in multiple Centres. He wants to teach you a lesson, that’s what he told me.”
 “Can you leave, please. I’ve heard enough bullshit for today and I’m still
not feeling well, we’ll continue this conversation tomorrow, fine?” she asked
him, collapsing on her bed.
“Of course. See you tomorrow.” he replied and then left.
“You had to die, didn’t you?! Twice, one time after the other, to make
sure it’s forever! ‘If you do something, do it well or not at all’, that’s what you
said once, huh, didn’t you? Seagles… that fucker Yprud is testing my patience
like the Seagle Narseon’s dedication… I wouldn’t have let you overboard, I
hope you realise.” She talked with the ceiling and implicitly, Aidan. “Send me a
postcard from Elysion, no way you’re in the Doomsland!” she chuckled as tears
started to fill her eyes again. “Nope, this is too much…” she told out loud to
herself, and then headed again for Igon’s room, knocking on it.
“Are you sober?”
“Unfortunately!” he replied even before opening the door, and then
continued once he was in front of her, “The effect wore off like half an hour
ago. But while I was at the pharmacy, I had a feeling you’d need another dose,
so I got you something special.”
He pulled out of his pocket a set of pills, which he gladly advertised in
front of her,
“I proudly present to you, Klanaz! The brand-new pill to take away all
your worries! Half horse tranquilizer able to put to sleep an insomniac having
an existential crisis and half high-concentration mix of Khala and Yukaitamine
to put a smile on a victim in the middle of watching his family executed in front
of them! The combination is guaranteed to numb the pain of existing in this
purposeless, meaningless, morally-relative, materialistic, unforgiving and
confusing world, were loneliness rules supreme, while at the same time putting
a fake smile on your troubled face and creating a temporary bubble of fake
bliss, but you don’t care it’s fake, because your friends are fake, social
constructs are fake and everything is just make-believe anyway! This renders
that just as real as any attachment you have to this world, doesn’t it? Buy now,
Klanaz, and go ‘Aaaa….Zzzzz!’, for only 10 H! Use up to two pills at one time.
Any more and you might die in agony.” he advertised with a wide smile on his
face and changed his tone and facial expression to a comically neuter one at the
last sentence. Handing her the pills, he added “Now, please don’t interfere with
my plan. Alright? Now, may I know what troubles you?”
“Aidan died and his Artefact was destroyed in the plane crash.” She
confessed, the laughter she had indulged in while Igon was doing his
commercial impression stopping her from crying at hearing her own words.
“Wow… It sounds surprisingly boring and fatalistic out loud, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah… Um…Ugh… Hm…Ergh… I’ll go start my plan a few hours
in advance, if you don’t mind and know what I mean.” and he passed by her,
leaving the door to his room open while heading somewhere outside, with a few
syringes in his pockets.
It warmed her heart to see that Igon also liked Aidan and that his double
death was enough for Igo to what to escape reality and hide in his bubble again.
She took only one pill for her first try and decided she would experiment
with more some other day. The thing worked just as advertised, and she slept in
blissful ignorance and inner peace the rest of the afternoon. The effect wore off
towards the night as the high peacefully and gradually faded into usual, pleasant
sleep, accompanied by a dream where none of it had happened and she was just
living as usual with him.
That was, until her PTV rang.
It woke her up and confused her, wondering who would call her in the
middle of the night. Lazily reaching beneath her pillow, she couldn’t see the
screen for the intense brightness, which automatically lowered itself when the
device detected it was being used it the dark. That’s when she angrily picked up
the call,
“Who the fuck are you and why are you?! Is this a joke?! It’s not funny,
cunt, and Imma sue you for all you have dear, ye ‘ear me?!” she yelled in the
middle of the night.
“Call your horses, it’s me, accept the video call request.” an unmistakable
voice said as she dropped her jaw and covered her mouth with her palm.
“Holy shit!” she cried out loud and as quickly as she could switched to
accept the videocall. She saw indeed, right there, right in front of her eyes, it
was Aidan. More exactly a very pixelated version of him, standing in front of
the window of a ship’s bridge. She could see in the background the sea and
some pixelated indistinguishable shapes on the deck.
“I don’t have time; the signal is poor.” he said.
Not doubting the reality of what was happening, she took a screenshot. It
wasn’t enough though, so she kept on taking multiple for the whole duration of
the call.
 “I don’t know what you know. I am alive. Unnquk was right. He was
telling the truth. There is no unfiction. Talk to Unnquk. I am going to the
Icetowers. Do not trust Heriotza, do not trust the government, do not trust
anyone that feeds you anything that contradicts Unnquk’s story. I will come
back one day. I don’t know when. I love you.”
He had to wait for her to order Anima to turn the light on to see that she
was crying in front of the camera.
“What’s going on? What happened to you? Your plane crashed… The
funeral… Am I dreaming?” she asked rhetorically, for she knew she wasn’t. Her
head was heavy, she had simultaneous control over the entirety of her body.
“Look.” Aidan said, turning the camera away from him to a man next to
him. By his complexion she realised the ethnicity and took another screenshot
while Aidan explained, “Miqhuns. Real ones. Unnquk is one of them. They live
in the South. People live in the South, living, breathing people.” and then turned
the camera back at him.
“Again, don’t trust anyone. I have to go or we’ll be intercepted. Don’t
trust anyone but Unnquk. No joke. Love you. See you one day. I’ll come.” And
he closed at she was uttering between her sobbing lips,
“Right, me too!”
She dropped the PTV onto her pillow and sat in the middle of her bed
crying, not knowing what to do or what was going on.
“What should I do? What the fuck was that? I’m not dreaming, I took
screenshots, this shit happened… What?!” she was thinking. “Right, um…
Maybe Neka was being lied to, maybe he genuinely doesn’t know what’s going
on… but the… the news report… what?! What’s fucking going on?! I don’t get
it… Shit! Shit! Shit! Uh…uh…” she began taking deep breaths. “Right, calm
down. Don’t ask ‘What happened?’, ask ‘What will happen?’. That is a better
question. Right, so what axioms do I have? The only thing that is true and
known for certain, the facts, is what Aidan said. He is alive, on his way to the
Icetowers, and I can’t trust anyone except Unnquk, who was right. What was he
saying? That those Icetowers here Doomsland-like, no villas, and that people
live in the South. That’s also true, Aidan said and showed me. That in and of
itself contradicts… so much common sense. He mentioned Heriotza in
particular should not be trusted, nor the government. I guess because it was him
that gave Aidan the chance to go there. Damn, why does it have to be
complicated?” she wondered.
 She decided the best course of action would be not to tell anyone of the
call and try to get into contact with Unnquk instead. He would then explain
everything to her and he’ll come up with a strategy of sorts.
“Yeah… yeah, that’s… that’s what I’ll do. This. Never. Happened.
Period.”
She then took two of the new pills, for she knew this kind of information
would not let her go to sleep and she could not rest until she either found
something or took active action towards finding out the truth. If it weren’t
suspicious, she would go to the police station in Centre 1 right then and there,
but she knew better. The pills put her to sleep into a fantasy where she was on a
cruise with Aidan, in a totally different context.
QUESTIONS FOR AUDIENCE:
Your opinion in regards to the realism of Ira’s breakdown and if you gave
a fuck about it. Does it seem like her? (is she acting in character?)

Chapter 15: Last supper

Aidan just ended the call, as Dzuriq was supervising him and made it
clear he had started to take too long with it. He gave him the PTV back, and he
reconnected it to the designated Eye-from-Above.
“Daz’it. Nao Ay-flom-Up has oos lixt on baek. Op no zi, ey?.” he
mumbled in barely decipherable Lavonian tongue.
“Oh, yes, definitely!” Aidan pretended to understand. “I’d go outside for
some fresh air, but the weather is pretty bad already. I will go back into my
room, thanks.” he continued, taking one more look at the storm outside, with
waves constantly splashing enormous quantities of water on board and the wind
audibly blowing heavily against the steel beast.
“Dzeah, yaor rum… Oq!” Dzuriq replied confused, but getting the bare
minimum message being conveyed.
“Oq-oq!” he gave his goodbyes bowing, the gesture amusing Dzuriq in a
weird way, understanding the good intention behind the blending of customs.
On his way back, Aidan passed on a corridor past the dining room where
he had been interrogated and overheard bunch of Miqhun words. He understood
nothing, but knew what was being discussed. Kalik came to announce him that
a council will be held so that the crew can vote on a course of action. For
practical reasons, it would be held in the local language, and he didn’t really
have a saying, considering he was not part of the crew. Even though he
understood their reasons, he could not help but feel like was powerless and at
their mercy, something he was not fond of. After the conversation last night, he
felt things hadn’t gone any closer between them, only grew ever so slightly
more distant and colder.
Indeed, he wouldn’t have been too happy if he could understand what
they were talking.
“No, no! That’s unacceptable! If we leave him at the Icetowers, we’re no
better than the monsters we are living among! They broke the treaty; we have
every right to not turn him in!” Jola insisted.
“I’m just saying… We can hide him for only so long. If we take him
back, he might be discovered before we can spread the news and organise some
forces.” the cook argued.
“That’s if we can organise some forces.” the captain tried to mitigate the
rising conflict.
“Yes, I am of the opinion that we should send him together with some of
us back to Lanvos. The journey can be done, and if they didn’t listen to us,
they’ll listen to one of them, the selfish bunch.” Buyaan suggested.
“Bullshit! They didn’t believe actual, flash-and-bone people, looking
wildly different from them.” Hula complained to the lack of sense Buyaan had
spilled out of his mouth.
“I have to agree.” Dzuriq invited himself into the discussion as he entered
the room. “The guy talked with his wife. She though he had died in some ‘pran
kresh’, whatever that is. Moreover, she mentioned some ‘neuz rapot’ that swore
on the behalf of his death.”
“Whose idea was it to send him of all people to spy of them?” Jola asked,
infuriated by Dzuriq’s mere interpretation.
“He’s not stupid, he may have not been as honest if he had known he was
perfectly understood. Officer Dzuriq’s skills are just enough, not too good, not
too bad. I myself understand what he tried to say.” Kalik defended him.
“Please enlighten us!” Hula pleaded.
“Over in their lands, many things happen. They call ‘neuz’ something
similar to our Storytellers. They memorize and say the ‘new’ information, hence
‘news’, their name. They are transmitted through PTVs, not orally. The
Storytellers told his wife he had died in a plane crash.”
“Those are not Storytellers! Those are liars, off with their tongues!”
someone added.
“Yeah, how can they be that stupid to believe something like that?”
another one continued on the indignation train.
“Doesn’t matter why they believe, I’m sure they have their reason.
Nobody is that dumb. What we need to take out of this is that they won’t listen
to any of their own. Only to Storytellers! What we need to do is to send our
message through that!” Ynutu suggested, only to have the Dzuriq counter him,
“No, remember what the Lavonian said about the ‘unfiction’, these
people love to be lied to. They just love to pretend their fantasies are reality,
they are that retarded. I bet they wouldn’t listen to their own eyes if they didn’t
want to see the truth!” and then he spit on the floor in disrespect.
“Then what do you suggest? What do we do? Does organising a revolt
and striking first seem better to you? We’d have a chance to turn this rebellion
into a revolution!” the cook argued.
“No, I mean… I don’t know. Do we even want to do something about it?
I am satisfied with how things are. Fuck the treaty, fuck the guy, I want my
family to be safe and sound, not to die uselessly in some revolution that will
only tear our lands between ourselves. Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen and
leave him there. I can life having murdered one man, but dozens in a war… no
way. It’s the lesser of two evils, according to me.”
“You dense motherfucker, you’re wasting maybe one of our only chances
to never have to worry about soldiers occupying these lands!” Jola protested,
banging his fist on the table. “He’s one of them, he must know how things
work, he just doesn’t want us to think he’s a threat. I’m sure that with a leader
like him we could take our lands without a single drop of blood or exploded
Artefact, we could just make the Lavonians crumble from the inside if we
infiltrated him.”
“Kid, you’ve been with us. He obviously doesn’t know shit about any of
this. He’s just a civilian, he doesn’t know why he was selected to meet such a
gruesome end. Am I right, guys?” Hula corrected him as Buyaan and Ynutu
nodded in agreement.
The captain had been silent for a while, carefully observing what points
were made, and now he felt confident that a decision could be reached.
 “Alright!” he talked over everyone else and as such silenced them. “We
either rebel or send an expedition, doesn’t matter; we need him alive for either.
Who thinks we should keep him alive?” and he himself raised his hand, only for
the rest to follow suit, only the cook and Dzuriq hesitating before seeing just
how unpopular their opinions were.
“Deciding how to act or if to act against the Lavonians, that is none of our
business. We are at sea, only 17 of us, far from the entire nation. May Ikuat
guide us to the right path once we get back. What we do have to decide is if we
keep him a secret from other Lavonians or not.”
Both the diplomats and the rebels agreed on this issue. It was overall
better if only a restricted number of Miqhuns knew of this potential ally, and
certainly no soldiers were to know of what they saw as a traitor.
Seeing that a general course of action was achieved, Kalik wanted to end
the meeting and dismiss everyone back to their posts when Jola interrupted him.
“I have another idea. During a storm, the signal with the Eye-from-Above
is poor, or lost completely. What if, instead of going to the Icetowers, we
change course for the Dead Islands? We have the supplies; we only need to
avoid detection. We could be aided with speed if we rode along the Whale Belt
current.”
“What kind of madness-” the captain tried to stop him.
“We can ride along the current with the electrical installations off and
start them when we have the cover of the storm. If they do catch us, we just
had… technical problems, and we were ‘aimlessly’ floating around.” Jola
insisted.
“That is if they ask us nicely… They don’t. They just sink us from a
distance, either by bombardment from planes of torpedoes. No way! I forbid
this! We are experienced sailors, some of us have tried to escape and were lucky
enough to survive… End of discussion! Everyone back to your posts! See you
at dinner, Walinu, you better prepare something delicious or you get thrown
overboard.” the captain exercised his power to silence Jola’s naivety, afraid the
dire situation could turn otherwise intelligent members of the crew into
mistaken fools.
“Desperate people are not rational, they are impulsive, animal-like,
irrational. To some extent, they lose from what makes them human in the first
place. Desperate people are not people… they are afraid.”
 Jola saw Kalik’s reaction and strong opposition as a means to act upon
his plan more easily. In private, people were less likely to shut him down like he
was shut down, much more likely to listen, more much likely to be turned…
desperate.
Aidan was laying on his bed, starring at the ceiling, wishing to be outside,
starring at the sky instead. He was lost in meditation, his lethargic hands only an
obstacle in the way of daydreaming.
“I wish I could kill myself and make it easier. If I just died, maybe they
would let me… No way, if I killed myself Heriotza would either marry her to
some other dude, or most likely her cousin. I would not return the same if I just
kill myself, and that if I return. Nobody knows what my Artefact is, it could be
anything, or anyone… Killing myself wouldn’t stop the pain either. This… this
is not physical pain. It would just trap me in myself, I’d end up like Sam,
needing assistance to express my feelings. And I’m afraid of death, I love
feeling. The way I can rest my feet after standing up too much, the way I can
ease a sore, the feeling after running for a while, tired yet so accomplished… I’d
miss those. I can’t let myself die, I can’t kill myself, I must live… I must live
for what? For what?” he asked himself as he sighed in preparation for taking a
leap of faith into the emptiness that was aching in his heart, confronting the
immeasurable void with nothing but a match of courage.
“What is there to live for, besides those feelings? I always had something
to live for… Work for tomorrow, to better yourself, to show the world that you
can… to show yourself that you can. That you can improve, that if you just
worked for another day… You’d get there. That you can empty the ocean with a
spoon… How foolish of you! To believe something like that! Look at yourself,
you can’t do shit about what happens to you! And after against all odds, the
ocean emptied itself to you, what did you do, huh? You just sat there, with your
spoon in hand, perplexed that the illusion of your efforts was just an illusion.
That whole time, all those years… You were one piece of paper away from
victory. You were aiming at the legs to hit the head, nothing but a joke of a
fool! And then, then you had the audacity to say that you didn’t want it. You
didn’t indulge in feasts, you didn’t indulge in spas, beauty, relaxation, bliss.
What did you do? Low and behold, you were ungrateful, shat on every chance
you got to lose yourself in the bliss. You had the perfect life in your hand, you
looked at it well, then decided… it was boring maybe it would be more
interesting if you played with it. Well, you did, and now you broke it, miserable
self-loathing piece of shit!”
 He knew, somewhere deep, unconsciously, that he was indulging in self-
pity, embracing a fatalistic sense of defeat, but the fact that he was wrong didn’t
matter. What mattered was the feeling of comfort it offered. The acceptance of
defeat was nothing but a moral suicide, turning the page and pretending nothing
could be done was way more useful now, when he felt weak. He wished for the
consolation of being alleviated, exempt from the responsibility of change, a
break of sorts, just like suicide, but unlike it, ultimately temporary.
“Before destroying everything and not being contempt with the paradise
that my life could’ve been, I had a purpose. I wanted to achieve it. Even once I
had it, I had the goal of integrating, I’m sure that I couldn’t have stayed the
same outcast forever, eventually my old self would have eroded and I would’ve
become someone else. Now…” he told himself as his eyes starred right into the
abyss, “Now I can’t go back.” and a chill escaped it’s prison and poured along
the nervous highways. “Now I’m poorer than ever. I have no home, Heriotza
would not welcome me. He’d just disown me and cast me out, while keeping
everything. No more job, no more apartment… And this is the happy scenarios
where I’m not executed or send to prison or whatever. I have… nothing!
Nothing!” he came to a grim realisation.
“I’m no longer an intruder, an impostor in my new family, I am an
impostor in my old country. I can’t pretend the Icetower scheme isn’t… as
despicable as possible, a fuckin’ genocide, a purge, a Cleansi-…” he came to
realise that the name was more appropriate than he ever imagined. It brought
about a painful smile and guilty laughter, for which he forgave himself. He
ruled that he was little better than these people for letting the ship go on, but at
the end of the day he was powerless to do anything about it.
“Powerless… good adjective.” he told himself, this time out loud.
“What’s the point in hiding in my own head? Nothing has any point anyway!”
she cheered, talking to himself. “I have no home to call my own, I have no goal
and I can’t change the world. I can’t change the course of this ship. I can’t save
the thousands that await a lie. Only about 20 people are in my way, and I can’t.
I’m going mad…” he said in a split-second of self-awareness, and continued the
monologue in his own head. “If I can’t change 20 people, how could I ever
change the world? I can’t, I’m just a pawn. A fucking pawn, a pawn adrift in the
middle of an inconsequential ocean. What purpose do I have now? I’m
surviving for the sake of surviving. If I can’t go back to Lanvos, I have no life. I
have nothing. These men are deciding my fate… And I can’t understand shit.
What can I do? Nothing, that’s the answer. Now I see just how futile, small and
insignificant were my troubles. I was feeding a system of lies in that office, I
was working so that I would end up on a ship like this one day. Hundreds of
years wasted working, to get… nothing, nothing with void sauce and empty
garnitures. And you were so pathetic, oh so damn pathetic, for having problems
enjoying paradise! Now look, there are so many things hidden from you, so
many lies, now you can see, that you wanted to integrate so you would end up
here, you wanted to work so that you would end up here, and if you return, the
best case scenario is you ending up here again. There is no escape, you cannot
get away, you’re running away from the chains tied to your feet. Useless.
Meaningless. Just like you. Just like everything!”
Aidan was calm, not violently angry with this conclusion. He was
passively resentful. There was no point in expressing anger and frustration. It
would change nothing at all, it was futile. He embraced the meaninglessness,
allowed it to put out his match. Now he saw past the lies of his previous actions,
past the stories woven around a false sense of direction. He saw reality for what
it truly was. An unescapable nightmare, with the only way out leading to
something more terrifying than the Doomsland, for its power and horror could
not be comprehended by a mortal being. It was the dread of not existing, an un-
understandable mystery, a solution without a problem, the paradox of the
existence of the lack of existence, the lack of being, an endless force sucking
any type of humanity and life. It surrounded everything, yet was nowhere,
because it could not be somewhere, as it could not be to begin with. It was in
such moments that Aidan wished to be like something else, something that was
blessed enough to not comprehend its own existence, like a fly or even better, a
plant.
And a plant he did resemble, staying in bed and starring at the void in his
heart with the same morbid curiosity a pyromaniac watches every move in the
delicate and fragile, yet painfully destructive and unforgiving dance of a flame.
Being a plant wasn’t permanent though, for the emptiness drained more and
more of his energy and he fell asleep, indifferent to the thundering storm outside
or some other moral conundrum.
In the humid kitchen the sound of fried fish bounced off the walls only to
interfere with itself, forming an echo chamber where the smell of the fish and
the smell of eggs blended together. It was hard to breath and uncomfortably hot
inside, but despite this Jola joined the cook.
“So, Wali, wha’cha been up to?” he began conversating.
 “If you can’t tell I’ll have to report you for lying in your medical files.”
the cook replied cynically. “Are ya too eager to take a bite? Feel free to bite
your own tongue, you ain’t getting anything before anybody else!”
“Ha-ha! I wish the food was that good.” he played along on a joking
voice, which resulted in him getting a nudge from Wali’s elbow.
“Now really, why are you here? Nobody comes down here unless they
want something or are looking for a sauna.” he asked jovially.
“For how long have you been a part of this crew?” Jola replied with
another question, resting against the table and crossing his arms and feet, while
looking down for a second and then making eye contact.
“About 6 years with this captain. Why? You ain’t looking like one that
frequents the Fire Springs…” he suspected, preventively putting the gas cooker
on low heat.
“Aaah… I see, you must know him very well. No, nothing, I was just
curious. I’ll see myself out.” he replied dismissively and got to make one step
before being stopped.
“Hold on right there, kid! You ain’t playing me like that, where the fuck
were you going with that?”
“I understand you are interested?” he turned towards the cook, now
having his full attention.
“Depends on what you want to say? Is it something about that plan of
you’re the captain ordered you to shut up about?” the man guessed correctly,
this time stopping the entire cooking process to listen to Jola.
“Maybe. Tell me upfront… Are you, at least, interested?” he played the
mysterious agent, seeing how responsive Wali was to this approach.
“Stop speaking like you’re selling stolen cargo and stand up! Spit out
what you have to say!” he was growing tired of him.
“I can stand up; it was just a tactical retreat at the conference. Kalik was
being unreasonable, not addressing any of my points, besides calling it madness.
The question is, can you stand up?” he dangled the plan in front of the curious
man, each sound increasing the demand for knowledge.
“I can stand up alright, kid! It’s been 8 years at sea for me, yet this is only
my second ‘cargo delivery’. Say what you want and I can promise not to turn
you in. I still reserve the right to refuse you, though!” he clung onto control.
 “So, you think you reserve the right to refuse me? I might be new here on
paper, but my father and mother made me as good of a sailor as they get. None
of them were into the mechanical school or operating one of those stations, true
seamen! Alright, the idea is… What did the captain do?” he asked and upon
seeing that Wali thought the question was rhetorical, he emphasized the inquiry.
“He said what we’ll do. Let that guy stay on board, we just pretend he
isn’t here and then we talk with the rest.” He replied.
“And you see no problem? You yourself allowed yourself to see the truth.
We cannot keep him a secret. If he stays, he all die once the world finds out.
And then they might kill us the second time, for real. You know those
Lavonians ain’t fucking around!”
“Well, yeah, but-” he was interrupted.
“But what? You are willing to risk your life? Look at it as it is, if we
return with him, we get caught and executed. If we leave him there, at the
Icetowers… we could, but we’re losing any chance of an ally for a revolution.
But if we take him to the Dead Islands… we have the risk of getting caught, but
not the guarantee of getting caught. And we will have a fucking army in our
hands, we could ally with the Dead… Just imagine!” he ranted with proper
gesturing from both his hands and waist.
“But what if we get caught? It’s dangerous, the way you proposed to do it
is ridiculous! If we can’t do it, I think it’s better to just leave him for dead.” He
argued.
“No, no, listen to yourself, that’s bullshit! Don’t look at what people like
the captain or elders say. Look at what they do!” he over-gestured, getting his
hands strangely close to Wali’s face. “First, if you think that having a native
Lavonian speaking to any incoming hunter ship by radio will not convince them
to doubt the orders or at least board and check… Then you’re retarded, plain
and simple!”
“Cunt!” he protested the insult.
“Listen to me, idiot! If the captain was really that worried about getting
caught by PTV, why the fuck would he risk your life, your friends life, my life,
so that the Lavonian can speak to his lovely wife! We can call our family only
through the Eye-from-Above, so the soldiers can hear every word of ours so a
fucking hunter would come for us at the first sight of non-conformism! Just
look at the world around you and stop being an idiot listening to whatever your
superiors demand!” Jola was staring to be scary, speaking at the edge of yelling
and bashing his hands into the table, punching it with frustration. “I’ve had
enough of this! I’ve had enough fear, I’ve had enough worries, I’ve had enough
of not sleeping at night! I want to feel safe! I want to trust, that if I say my
opinion, me and my family won’t get shot! Are you blind to all of this?! Are
you?!” he kept on ranting, sweating profusely and getting his hair all messed up,
with desperation in his eyes.
Then all of a sudden, he switched with the speed of lightning to a calm
and controlled self, a weirdly passive yet threatening attitude was transmitted b
him arranging his sleeves while warning, “If you are, I’ll fuck off, get out of
that door, and you won’t hear of this…Until it’s too late… Then I’ll say, I told
you… I fucking told you…”
“So, you got others into this?” Wali asked, afraid of the seeming madman
hiding behind the anxious newbie.
“I am good at appreciating people. I saw that some people, like you, had
the potential of actually changing something, of taking back control. A sense of
strength, a sacrifice and integrity… What’s why I liked about you, that’s what I
saw in you! Change! And I saw it in enough people. I went to you first, because
I knew you were the most reasonable, I could just… feel it. I’ll keep you
informed when others are joining our cause. Don’t worry, the absolute, and I
mean it, absolute, worst scenario is a peaceful administrative transfer of the
ship. We won’t hurt anyone, not in the tiniest bit. You have my promise. Thank
you!” and as such he left the cook all of a sudden before he could call him back.
Left alone in the kitchen with a job that still needed some doing, Wali
resumed cooking, mulling over his decision as he was doing so.
“This sounds just crazy enough to work… Meh, if anyone asked me two
days ago if the expeditions to Lanvos succeeded in getting there, I would’ve
said it sounded just crazy enough to work…” he reasoned.
By the following day, Jola convinced Ynutu too along two other
crewmen. With only one man he preferred to have on his side left to convince,
he was growing more and more sure of himself. Aidan, on the other hand, was
busy occupying his morning by conversating with the Tunics on the deck. By
afternoon he had finished asking a few hundreds of them some basic questions.
Now he was sitting on the edge of a balcony at bridge-level, his legs
hanging above the deck between the bars. He rested his forehead against them
too, and look forward. A few distant steps approached, but he wasn’t distracted
by them, not even blinking, just looking ahead. He paid no attention when Kalik
joined him in a similar position.
 “Ya art not hungry?” he asked Aidan. “Or cold? It shalt be only more and
more colder from now. We art approaching the place.”
“No, thanks. I’m oq, in both aspects.” he said without moving his head.
In fact he was hungry, not having eaten since yesterday afternoon, but he
decided to endure it. He took it as a challenge, an obstacle he actually had the
power of overcoming, causing a pain that also challenged him further to
maintain his focus in his meditations.
“Learning one tzing or two here, art we?” Kalik chuckled. “Wat art ya
looking for? Ya not look at me, it is weird.” he noted
“We learned many things, Kalik.” he responded, still looking straight
ahead. “You know we share many things? I too used to work, real work, for
money. I had my own home, a shitty small apartment, before getting married. I
used to wake up, go to work, go to restaurant or in the park, then go home
again. Days and days passed like that. I’m not like the others you met, Kalik,
I’m a special kind of fucked up…”
“I still do it!” he commented jovially. “Our vork is bit different tzough, is
it not?”
“A bit… What are you going to do with me? Would you be kind enough
to actually tell me? Shed some light on the situation?” Aidan asked, preferring
not to engage in any more chitchat.
“Shed sum laight…?” he whispered between his lips, unsure what it was
referring to. “About ya? If I made decision, I’d let ya go expedition on, to get
back to yaor home and guide us to Lanvos. It doth not vork like tzat tzough.”
“Then who decides? The crew? There is a democracy on this ship? One
as effective as the Lavonian one?” he mocked his old beliefs.
“Tze people of Soutz Water, tze Miqhun.” he replied. “What art ya
looking at?” he persisted.
“Yes, the people, the people will decide. What I’m looking at? Straight
ahead, just a bit over the tip of the ship. I just look at it, at that point. You know
what it does? It takes it all away. The colour and the shapes around the edges of
my sight blend into one another and become a blob of light blue. It’s just me
and the very tip of the ship, floating ahead. And ahead. And ahead. It just keeps
on going, and I can’t stop it. I can’t change it. I can only fool myself to not see it
right in front of my eyes. To let myself be deceived. Is that what you do? How
can you live doing this? I just like to pretend I’m not here…” he explained.
 “I zee ya art at tzat stage, itz fine. All go tzrough wat ya have now. I did,
before zeeing the larger pik’chure. We do it to protect our own self. Tzese art
old people, with long life lived. Itz better for them, better for all to not have
tzem around. We doth tzis to our elders, tzey voluntir. Tzey want sometzing
new, fresh.”
“But not everyone wants, do they? I don’t think so. I spoke to many of
them, from down there,” he argued, still not having moved his head or even
blinked. “do you know who is there? I pretend I don’t see people exited in the
illusion of finding their loved ones, I saw people satisfied that they are getting
their life-long promised reward… I’ve seen good people… Doctors, clerks,
drivers, managers, shoppers, roamers, prostitutes, policemen. All of them! And
not all are old, I met a barista that’s only 23, she died early in an overdose. 23!
And she’s not the only one, I met one orphan, just like me, a dead 15-year-old
boy. It’s mindless. It’s all mindless. And they were so glad to retire early and
not have to work… How can you tell yourself they are better off like this?”
“I just doth, like tzat, simple! Itz a favour, one can say, tzey were living
in slavery to tzeir families, working for tzem!”
“That’s how you view love, huh? You can’t imagine someone willingly
give themselves up to pay for the privileges they enjoyed, to work for their
children, for their descendants… Of course, some, like my wife, truly would
detest life as a Tunic. The lack of feeling and constant work is the only reason
I’m not dead yet. I wanted to kill myself at 15, at 25 and now I want to die, but I
know I shouldn’t, so I just ignore it. Like I ignore these people.”
“Itz clear we can agree to disagree. I zee it as… forced liberation. Tzey
art messed in thinking, no sane Miqhun would tzink or act like any-o yee.”
“I think you’re just in as much denial. I pretend not to see, and you
pretend to have an excuse.”
“I doth have an excuse. My family. I would kill as many people-o all
nations to keep tzem safe, but to keep tzem safe I must not kill people-o any
nation. Ya would do the same.”
“I am doing the same. I look there and I imagine how if I just disconnect
enough, if I disassociate just enough, I can feel a sense of nothingness. The
nothingness that passed around me for hundreds of thousands of years in just
one second before I was born, and into that nothingness I shall return. We know
there is no Doomsland and no Elysion, just millions of years compressed into a
split of non-existing. If I am lucky enough, it will last just a second before I start
again. But I won’t. What is dead is dead. The rest are stories. The fact that
everyone has a different story just goes to proof it’s all bullshit. I find that
emptiness fascinating, the more I think about it, the more it hollows my souls
and I want to feel it, desperate, like a vortex… That’s why I went down there,
Kalik, that’s why I asked all those people some questions. Being a doctor is
meaningless, you do something just to be forgotten. Same with the tutors, all the
effort to build a new generation for the hollow void… We indulge in pleasure
because in the void we cannot. See, this void, it’s like a self-destructive engine.
It empties you so you fill it with fuel that is used to destroy you. I could have
lived in ignorance to who I am… uh… leaving for dead. But no, I had to look
into their eyes, and take a great look at what I was going to crush, to see what
atrocities I am committing by not killing all of you on this ship. It’s sick, Kalik,
I’m not sure you felt this urge to put straw on the fire below your Artefact. You
live your life, Kalik, but why? You’ll end up on one of these ships. Go and lie to
yourself that you will change and will want to give up everything. Repeat until
you forget you are pretending. Do it. It’s better for you. I, I am a man with no
home. I am forever tied to whatever is my Artefact, but I can’t return, I would
not be accepted. I am a man with no fellows. Nobody is going through this.
You’re different, you’re Miqhun, you’re used to this. You told me you were
used since the Hakdan conquered you around 7000 years ago. You have a
family, I have nothing. I can’t let my wife fall in the same footsteps. I have
nothing to offer her but a path to this realisation that nothing she knows is true.
The Miqhuns were not genocided by the Hakdan and Lavonians. The Icetowers
are an early grave. The government is corrupt. I can’t change any of that, and
she’s better off not knowing any of this. The greatest gift I can offer her is
blissful ignorance. And I was stupid enough to advise her to look for Unnquk, to
tell her I’m alive. I messed everything up, Kalik. I have nothing, no-one, I am a
no-one going nowhere. I am alive only for the pleasures that will exist between
these dark times. I’m not ashamed of this. Yes, I am a selfish piece of shit
whose only reason for existing is an addiction to dopamine. I accept it.” he
ranted his philosophy, this time actually making eye contact with the captain as
he was talking to him.
“I got half-o it, I tzink. So what doth ya want to doth if ya doth not want
to go back?”
“You decide. I couldn’t care less. If I could erase her memory of that
damned call made out of impulse… That’d be great. I don’t want to care
anymore, it’s all going nowhere. We are so insignificant to these waves or to the
Universe. We’re so unimportant, and we decided that in our corner of
insignificance, we chose to make people suffer. My history is false, but the
waves and the void are real. Whatever happens, happens. I’m trapped in here
until I grow the balls to kill myself.”
“Ya shalt hang around, it will get better.”
“How can it get better?! My world is fake, my history is fake, my life is
fake! What is there to fix, to get better? I can’t change the world! There is no
higher purpose, nothing to follow! And for what?! For that damned Unnquk!
Heriotza did some nepotism and now at least she is better off, but it doesn’t
change the fact that I am exiled, with no possession and no meaning!” Aidan
was growing tired of Kalik’s simple world view, he was tired of hearing the
same shallow optimistic non-sense. He wished he could see the world in as
much black and white and Kalik did. He wished he could delude himself to the
point of justifying the systematic participation in the murder of hundreds of
thousands.
“It shalt become fine, ya shalt zee. Hang around, ya shalt change yaor
opinion. Belaive me! In a month ya will no longer zee how ya used to tzink this.
Ya will make yee a new soul. ‘And from the cracks of the old dead bark gave
birth to a new one, for the old was rotten and the new was to protect a new
village’, that is what the Storytellers said in the story of the ‘Tree and the
Village’.” the captain gave up trying to change Aidan’s mind, as he was sure he
would come around to agree with him. He left and Aidan remained on the
balcony to keep looking at his point again, with the exception that he had to find
another one. It was impossible to return to the exact same special dot. It just
reminded him of the passing nature of his mind and it saddened him even more.
“I’m not here… this isn’t happening… for I am powerless…” he hummed
there, lying to himself in a way he was fine with, singing along to his own moral
decay as nothing had any meaning and thus any value anymore, for there was
nothing left in this world but unnecessary suffering and a droplet of hope to
keep him suffering.
Hula was having a drink alone at the edge of the accommodation,
watching the foam left behind the ship in the vastness of the ocean. He was
surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder and immediately turned.
“I wanted to ask you something, can we talk where the engine is less
lousy? I can’t hear myself!” Hula read on his lips, while Jola couldn’t do the
same to decipher the curses addressed at him for sneaking like that.
“What did you want to ask, kiddo? Do you have troubles with something?
I can teach you how to fix it, be sure of it!” he asked once they were in front of
the entrance.
 “No, I actually wanted to announce you of something. Can you keep it a
secret between us?”
“Look, I don’t care that you’re a faggot as long as you don’t fuck my ass,
I have no problem of you fantasising about it. Understood?” he said and they
both burst into laughter.
“So, can you please tell me what the captain accomplished by shutting me
down at the meeting?” Jola asked politely, keeping a straight stature.
“Am I supposed to tell you what you want or what I really think?” Hula
asked suspiciously.
“As honest as you can be.”
“It’s full of crap. In my youth I tried one of those schemes. We pretended
to have a technical problem right at the Whale Belt. We got caught and the
Chief Engine Officer got executed for sabotage. The man had the spine to die
for all of us and not go snitching. I was lucky enough to be Junior Engine
Officer that day. Needless to say, the promotion that followed wasn’t the most
deserved one, but a man gotta do what a man gotta do.”
“But I wasn’t arguing for that plan. If we actually did use power when
we’re under meteorological cover, we’d get there way faster and safer than
adrift. It is possible!” Jola carefully defended his point of view, seeing an
opportunity to enable his new strategy.
“Alright, I give you that, kiddo, but the idea is that your plan ain’t that
original of an idea and if it ever did work, the word would’ve gotten out.”
“But do you agree that we should just hide the guy and plan a strategy
with the rest back in South Water? Is all of us getting executed once they find
out really worth the cost? Or do I suppose you’re thinking that nobody would
snitch on you because of your friend having a spine?” he persuaded him with
some success.
“Well, it’s obvious Kalik just wanted us to agree and pretend things are
alright. I mean, we still have a job to do and quarrelling ain’t the best way to
achieve that. I’m sure he’ll have a counsel some other date?”
“But what if he isn’t? What if we miss our best chance of making it to the
waters of Dead Islands, where we would find allies. You know those fuckers are
waiting for any opportunity to strike the coast and sink some Lavonian ships!”
 “Look, your plan is too risky, understand that. It’s not as mad as it could
be, I give you that-” he tried to say before being interrupted by Jola with a
peculiar question,
“C’mon, big-muscles, big-brains! Tell me how you’d improve it!” he
dared Hula with a competitive tone.
“Well… First of all, I’d disguise our moves. If we first disappear before
the Whale Belt, then they’d have to search a larger area, because of the
possibility of trying to escape north, to one of the Cities. Second, the whole idea
of shutting down the electrical system to go incognito is pretty redundant. Just
fucking throw away or destroy the antenna part. Second, right before
disappearing, we should call in for aid, say we need fuel because there was a
leak or something. The first thing will be to send a tanker, which would in
theory give us some extra time before we get a hunter on or tail.” Hula
elaborated proudly.
“See, it’s not that far-fetched. We’re kept in checks by our own fears, not
by those damned Lavonians!” Jola congratulated him, clapping his hands.
“Silver-tongued bastard! You’ve clearly never been out at sea this far
from the coast.” Hula criticised him instead. “In such a case they might send
hunters to do the refuelling. What I said was non-sense! We would need to wait
to see what they announce first. If they say they’ll send a tanker, we’re free to
go, but if the hunters are coming… we better sabotage ourselves or we all die.”
“These are just details. Do you know the captain well? Could you coerce
or convince the captain to agree with a version of this plan?”
“Kiddo, I’ve known the man for 15 years, since before he even was a
captain… You’re lucky I’m loyal to my country and not to him though. I saw
that he has certain soft spots, and that ain’t good. I’ll try to, though I can’t
promise anything but another council to be had.”
“Can you do that by today, 8 in the evening?”
“What in the depts of the Fierce Sea are you up to, because you surely
ain’t got a medical appointment.” Hula rightfully grew suspicious of the
specification.
“Backup plan. We don’t have time to babysit everybody. In less than a
weak we should be at the Icetowers, we can’t afford to lose more time with this.
There are a few of the crew who are already onto this, I talked with them. We
are not the only ones dissatisfied with letting fate decide for us.” Jola peacefully
and elegantly explained.
 Later that day, most of the crew was out having diner while Hula and
Nunnuk were keeping watch and the cook brough some bottles of wine to
replace appetisers. Jola stood up among them and ordered some silence.
“My dearest companions! We have been together for only a little while.
And yet, to my surprise, in these last days you have both opened me, my heart,
and to the regret of some of you, my mouth!” and his part of the speech was met
with laughs and cheers. “I could not believe that I would find among you a
family so fast. I wish to thank you sincerely for the warm welcome and for
taking your time with me. In honour of all of us and to our surprise guest, which
isn’t with us right now, I call for a toast!”
Everybody drank and then cheered, congratulating themselves or Jola,
and then the cook came with the actual meal, consisting of mashed potatoes and
pre-cooked meatballs. As people started eating and some even proposed to start
a match of Push Off, many of the people started feeling dizzy, including the
captain, Buyaan and Dzuriq, but curiously to the them, Jola, Ynutu and a few
others had no problems. Eventually, within a minute or two, everyone was
sound asleep.
“Alright guys, let’s get them to their room, c’mon!” Jola started ordering
around, and Walinu the cook appeared out of nowhere to move the bodies. The
sound of dragging and moans of exhaustion as the men were taking them
upstairs had alarmed the watch on the bridge, but not Aidan, who in the
meantime had fallen sound asleep in a room.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Hula yelled at one of them, who was too
busy to reply, so Nunnuk explained instead,
“This is the backup; in case the captain didn’t agree with us. Don’t worry,
we’re locking them in captain’s cabin and Officer Dzuriq’s, those are the largest
ones, with private toilets, nice and comfy. We’ll have to take from those rooms
anything that can be used to break the door, so be ready to move some furniture!
Also, you can lend a hand at the kitchen, we’re leaving them some biscuits and
cans, so they don’t starve. Let’s go!”
QUESTIONS FOR AUDIENCE:
How do you think of Jola and his arguments? Are they
convincing/realistic/interesting? What of Aidan’s nihilistic crisis?
Is the plot getting too contrived (= it feels things are forced to happen in some
way and not naturally progressing towards that point)?
 Chapter 16: Murder’s on mind

In the morning, Ira had a smoke before doing her morning routine. This
time she put on the widow clothes, but also took the disguise with her at hand,
so she could change. She decided to attract as little attention as she could and
avoid not wearing the mourning outfit in front of anyone from the household.
She had the luck of not meeting anyone while inside, but to stumble into
Neka outside. He had just arrived from a session of roaming with a bunch of
products and ingredients that had been ordered for that day.
“Miss? Where are you going? It’s so early, did you even have breakfast?”
he inquired, with a curious look directed at the piece of black cloth she was
holding in her hand. “We still need to discuss the details of the funeral…”
“Neka, I… I’m not ready for this, alright, I’m…” and she took a deep
sigh, “I’m just not. Do whatever you think is nice, you know me, get a mini-
statue of him for the lid of the urn and just… I… don’t… I just wanna go out in
town and I don’t know… Do something… Something’s gotta work, doesn’t it?”
she mumbled halfway because of a hangover from the stress and pills from last
night and the other half was acting devastated and trying not to burst into tears
and confess everything to Neka. Still, precautions had to be taken, after all
Aidan did say ‘trust nobody’.
“I understand completely. Don’t worry about it, I will take care of it and I
will make sure such a great man gets the great honours he deserves.” he replied,
petting her arm with a free hand at the sight of a tearing eyes.
After some driving, she changed herself in the backseat and left the car at
the edge of the road, close to the entrance to Centre 1. The sight there had
changed. The protesters were still there in about the same numbers. But the
impact they’ve had on the Centre was way more prominent. The vibe that was
there a few months ago was totally gone. It was no longer the symbological
manifestation of people’s fight with the elements. There were few people
wearing black anymore. The tents were unchanged, but the street in general was
transformed. All the windows within rock-throwing distance from the street
were broken, with shards of glass resembling a stubborn grassy outcrop at the
edge of the road. The building’s ground floors had their doors opened and the
walls repainted with slogans she was familiar with, like ‘Nephtar not Ash’ and
‘Haktun the forgotten’, but also new ones like ‘The people have spoken’ and
‘Enough is enough’ as well as vulgarities in the Hakdan language. There was
clearly some artistic commentary at some point, the remnants of a swan with a
black wing with Haktun written on it, a grey stripe along the spine and a white
wing with Lanvos written on it were still visible. They were only concealed by
an ungodly amount of senseless signatures, caricatures, and bomb’s explosions
reminiscent of the Smoke Riots. It was clear that the quality of the message was
muddied by others with destruction on their mind. The middle section of the
road was not saved. Most of the sewer covers had been stolen, and based on the
smell and a few missed spots, the holes left were used as toilets. Now and then
one would see among the sea of tents a burned car, except at any large
intersection, where the burned cars created barriers and checkpoints.
Ira now had to hope for the best when passing through one of these, as
she stood out among a sea of dirty colours in a clean, black tunic-like garment.
She was lucky enough now to follow closely a silent group and not be stopped
by the guards. They were armed with hammers, machetes and occasionally
somebody was playing with a grenade in hand. For protection that had vests
reinforced with ceramic plates, as well as arm and leg pieces of similar
construction. For the head, they were usually wearing a simple motorcycle
helmet, occasionally repainted to show the blast of an explosion.
Ira had a hard time believing this was once the place for the elite
businessmen, governmental clerks and restaurants way fancier than Exelor’s.
She could see the ruins of some of the showcases, now looted of any jewels or
clothes. It was a miserably horrific place. Nothing awe-inspiring as Aidan first
described it, nothing showing a civilised mass of people with one goal. She
stepped on the contrary. It was a graffiti as big as the street itself and it took her
a few steps to realise it was a series of bright, colourful and childish in their
curviness letters that was advocating for the collapse of the Pyramid. To both
her left and to her right there were road signs vandalised to wish the death of all
Lavonians, and that thought in and of itself was enough to terrify her. She
started to hurry, being bombarded by sign, placards and graffities of all colours
shaming her and blaming her. The barbarity of such primitiveness made her sick
in her stomach. Now she could only hope that the police station stood as a
bastion of law and order against the sea of flames and death threats. She was in
too deep to go back now.
“But… the news don’t report on this! The reports are brief and always
focus on the Pyramid, why doesn’t anybody say anything about the ruins that
are made right under our nose?” she complained to herself, baffled by the
downplaying of the situation.
She got closer to the police station and there was another checkpoint. One
of the guards had their eyes set on her, but then someone started yelling in
Hakdan something mostly unintelligible, the only words Ira could understand
being ‘my’ and ‘thief’. She assumed correctly it was about a robbery happening
in plain daylight, with the armed guards interfering to separate and make justice
between the accused and the accuser, as one of them though starting a brawl
was the best course to achieve justice. This offered her the opportunity to sneak
by the check, which she managed successfully, just like another dozens of
potential peaceful protesters or violent psychopaths.
“The burned cars don’t stop the vandals; they just scare off the good folk!
Yeah, threatening and looting looks really good on the supposed ‘victims’…”
she sarcastically criticised the practices. “Seagles, why do they make
themselves so unlikable?! They were doing it right at first, now no-one will
have sympathy for these fucks! What kind of idiots run this place now?” Ira
wondered.
Now she could see the police station. It was just a few blocks away, but
well outside of the rule of law. Just as her confidence that she would make it
unscathed rose up, reality came to break it down into pieces.
“I’m almost there! Don’t attract any attention, just head straight for it.”
She thought, but did the exact opposite. A man was calling her from behind,
asking for indications, but she didn’t know that. This raised his suspicion to the
point when he switched languages,
“He’, vlack womaen!”
Spiders of fright descended down her spine, and she took a quick breath
out of reflex,
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop… C’mon, almost there!” she thought
as she decided to keep on ignoring him. She didn’t stop out of reflex and the
man was facing her back, so he had no way of seeing the surprise on her face,
so she reasoned that the best of course of action would be to keep on ignoring.
After a few more steps, the voice of the man got closer and she felt a
hand grab her by the shoulder and turn her around.
“Aisch kolt ja. Hwaet vist ja, deaph?” he asked her.
“Nan, aisch tot’tan dat ja vast kolten austerun! Aischanz foult!” she
apologised as appropriately as she could. “Wow, the pronunciation was really
on spot! I got it!” she congratulated herself, forcing herself not to show her
pride.
 “Schpichen ‘phoergelt’valrtischgan’!” the man followed up, squinting, an
inkling tickling one of his nerves just enough to raise an eyebrow.
“Hwaet? Verge’walti-” she took on the challenge. only to fail more
miserably than a soldier armed with a dagger charging uphill at one armed with
a spear.
“Undercover cop! Undercover cop here! Everyone, get your asses over
here!” he yelled from underneath the kerchief covering his face as he grabbed
her by the arm.
“Ya’al mezdink! Lusten aischich! Aisch vin nan polize!” she tried to
explain, but no-one could either hear her because of the yelling directed at her
or care enough to listen. A small crowd gathered around her and then the man
let her go. They were all standing around her, shouting and throwing fists in her
direction, but to her delight, never actually aiming for a hit. She could no longer
understand them,
“Hakdans are important! We’ve waited for generations, you’ve had
enough, time to turn the other cheek! Choke her like she chokes our land! Fuck
her like they fucked us over and over! Imma strangle you, bitch! Who doesn’t
deserve air? You! This hoe is just as guilty as the government she is defending!
Choke! Choke! Choke!” the crowd called out, yet nobody did besides fall in the
same unison chanting, bashing out just with words.
Ira entered a state of maximum alert and had to keep herself from
punching at the aggressors.
“Right, right…” she thought as she scanned at the mass of people around
her. “If I fight back this will escale in a brawl. Think fast, fast. c’mon! I know!
These idiots won’t listen, so if I play their story, I might get away cheaply.
Good idea!” and as such, she responded by controlling her burning anger and
frustration and reaching for her PTV.
“Reinforcements at 200 meters east o’ the station! Repeateth, sendeth
reinforcements, we got a crowd o’ aggressors at 200 meters east o’ the station! I
shall stay connected. I will attempt the manoeuvre o’ tactical retreat!” she yelled
as loud as she could in Lavonian and then kept her PTV by her ear. “Why are
people so bloody retarded?!” she expressed her annoyance in her head, “The
guy held my fucking hand (and he didn’t ask! Oh no…) and didn’t feel my
pulse? The fact that my hand isn’t room temperature? The sweat? Nothing?!
Since when are living people policemen?! Fish-brains… No wonder the streets
look like this!”
 She made a careful step backwards and then turned towards the police
station and began walking to it, taking carefully calculated steps as if traversing
a pool of glass shards with a broken foot. She regularly talked to herself again
with the PTV at her ear, pretending to keep the police informed. The people
followed her still, chanting things she didn’t want to understand for it could
tempt her to bite back.
By the time she got half-way there, a small band of about 20 police
officers actually came to the rescue and scattered the protesters like wolves
chasing away birds of prey off their prey. They took her in, where they both had
questions for one another.
“Most honourable sirrahs, I am indeed beyond thy ability t’comprehend
grateful o’ thy intervention. Nevertheless, I must inquireth thee on the state of
affairs that the respectable Centre 1 hast, forgiveth mine own choice o’ words…
degenerated into.” She said as she took a seat on the hallway of the station and
an officer stayed with her, while the others resumed their work.
“Nay need o’ thanking, kind lady, fo’ we were doing nothing, but our
moral duty as protectors o’ the law. I and my colleagues art left here while the
majority o’ the police joined the special forces to hold the Pyramid, but it
looketh like not only they art heroes.” he said and then changed the topic, “ ‘Tis
understandable that thee art befuddled by the behaviour o’ certain individuals.
Before we commenceth explaining, it is important t’note that we shalt not judge
the character o’ the bag o’ apples by the few rotten exemplars.” the officer said
the disclaimer, “We would also be delighted t’know the source-reason o’ thy
presence and wherefore thee has not contacted the authorities once certain
individuals engaged in improper acts against thee. Doth thee want t’file a
complaint?”
“A few apples hosting enough worms to eat all the apples. And who the
fuck should I sue if I wanted to, huh?” she thought to herself, not looking to get
into an argument right now. “No, I can’t press charges against anyone. And
regarding my presence, I was intending on consulting yee here at the station in
regards to a certain individual that happened to be incarcerated here. The
individual goeth by a peculiar name, Unnquk Hillaquk. I didn’t call fo’ I went in
accordance with the flow o’ the people. They were thinking I was an undercover
policewoman, and I thought they wouldn’t dare touch a law enforcer. Who
knows what they’d do t’a regular woman…” Ira told him her motivations for
coming and acting the way she did.
 “I understandeth, very intelligent o’thee. We art holding a few inmates,
considering the situation outside, thou will seeth which is the one thee art
looking for. ‘Tis a novelty, this situation. About a week ago, thou might have
heard o’ the evacuation that took place. ‘Tis was not fo’ the aggression o’ the
protesters, but purely an economic matter as a result o’ a lack o demand caused
by peaceful protests. The most vital o’ paperwork has been moved t’ the ever-
overloading offices o’ the Pyramid building. The devastation and vandalization
has been a result o’ the mere last three days. Nobody was hurt, in spite o’ what
the rioters might make thou believe. Nobody that can call upon us, that is.
Narseon’s grandfather knows how many went unreported, but don’t talk o’
‘unknowns’. These people knoweth that at the first complaint o’ an injured non-
protesting citizen or law-enforcing person, the military will just…whoosh them
back to Cassan.”
“But wherefore is there no warning? I never saw any channel report on
the damage! This is underreporting at its finest! Unreliable! A new lowest o’
points in journalism!” she showed her irritation only to have the police officer
rebuke some of her claims.
“Actually, ‘tis has been done on purpose. There is no reason t’ alarm
unnecessarily the public. It shalt be reported at a later date, as I mentioned, ‘tis
breaking news. Now I seeth that indeed, this situation could have been informed
if thee had been better informed on the increase in deranged acts. I shalt insist
t’mine superiors t’adopt measures that combateth misinformation. Please accept
this private apology on the behalf of Centre 1 Police.” the officer apologised
and bowed in front of the sitting Ira.
“No wonder I missed the brief reporting there was on this. I haven’t been
very sober the last two days… makes sense.” Ira thought and then accepted the
regrets. “Mistakes forgiven! I mine own self haven’t followed the news lately,
fo’ there have been a few wild days lately and I used some substances to take
my mind off them.”
“Very well. I hope you geteth better soon! Now in regards t’thy visit,
please follow me.” and the two went to the same public relations office and the
same clerk updated her on Unnquk’s state.
“I recall thee, lady! Alloweth me t’locate the files… In the meantime,
what is o’ thy boyfriend? Husband? How cometh he is not with thee?”
“Um…” she took a pause to think and decided to keep her mouth shut on
the truth o’ the matter. “Nobody, especially not the government. Remember
that!” she told herself before replying, “Ex-husband. He is no more.”
 “Ex-husband?” and the man took his bewildered eyes and mystified face
out of the folders to look at her. “Thou mean… a di-divorce?!”
She calmed him down seeing the path his mind was going down on, “No,
no, no! Seagles and birdsnakes forbid! He just died. Twice. A stupid accident,
really. Doesn’t matter.” she faked brushing it off like someone in denial, in
order to make him too embarrassed to ask more question.
“Aaah, good!” and then realising what he just said, he corrected himself,
“I meaneth, thou have my condolences, ‘tis a devastating loss… He gave the
impression o’ a fine gentleman t’me.” he said emotionlessly as he inspected a
document. “Right here! Mister ‘Oonkuck Nalaky’, we figured his name in the
end… Sorry, we no longer have him. He’s been transferred quite some time ago
to… Iron Gates, maximum security prison, for… a yet undetermined duration.
Seemeth a little too much fo’ mere accusations o’ mild public violence, but ‘tis
not up to me t’judge. He kept yelling and acting crazy, one of mine own
colleagues told me.”
“Where is this facility?” Ira inquired further, only to have her hopes
disappointed by finding out it was on an island off the West Coast. “And where
do I calleth t’maketh an appointment fo’ a visit?”
“‘Tis a maximum-security freedom-constraining facility… No visits art
alloweth, I announceth thee with heavy heart.” the clerk replied.
“I understandeth… I shalt depart now fo’ my residence. Thank thee!” she
tried to mask her bewilderment, being betrayed only by the dying, descending
tone of her voice.
On her way back to the car she was escorted by three officers, thinking
about what should she do now. She was so caught up in trying to untangle what
was going on that she paid little attention to the shouting the group was
subjected to. They were a bubble protected by an idea, without which they
would be torn to piece by the physical manifestation of untameable fear and
anxiety. She was acting like when the Seagle flapped its wings to put down the
fires surrounding Doomsland, so that the Birdsnake could crawl and rescue
Narseon’s second eldest ancestor, who died the second time at the hands of the
sea creature, fighting the monster to give them time to get to land on the shore
of Lanvos.
When she got home, she was aware there were two more things she could
do before she ran out of ideas. The first initiative failed miserably. She tried to
contact Aidan again, but upon calling the number, she got an error.
 “The number thee art attempting t’calleth dost not existeth on the
network, fo’ it is not registered. Please checheth if thy number was dialled in the
right manner!” a robot with a voice as organic as Anima’s replied.
“Damnit!” she cried out loud from the privacy of her room. “Did he at
least leave Unnquk’s PTV here? Or did he take it with him for good measure?”
she asked herself and then found the PTV after searching in a few drawers. To
her surprise it still had enough power to open itself, but not too much to be used.
“Hm… I remember that one great-great-great-great-great grandma once
told me PTVs back in her day had better batteries, but I never imagined it would
be this efficient. The chargers never changed, so it should be compatible, no
problem.”
Except it was a problem. To her surprise, her charger was slightly wider
yet at the same time narrower than the one required for this device.
“Whatever! I’ll just take the memory card from this thing, put into my
phone and be done with it!”
The same problem followed suit, the card being incompatible with her
device. She had to resort to borrowing an adapter for old cards from an ancestor.
She ruled that she would have the most chances at the 8th floor, so she took the
lift to there.
The first four floors had regular apartments, just like she hers or Zuzen’s,
albeit getting smaller as the floors got higher. From the fifth one though, the
level of her great-great-grandparents, the apartments here totally different. At
that point, they were exclusively intended for Tunics while they were visiting
when they were off work. They were better than the worker’s apartments that
Aidan had been living among, being slightly larger and having a proper door,
besides a few personal possessions and entertainment devices.
Once at the corresponding floor, she started knocking at random doors,
not knowing who was home at that point. She knocked on about twenty doors,
of which only two responded, and then met someone that could help her.
“What is the matter, darling? Hast thee cometh t’speaketh o’ some
matters?” a lady dressed in blue and red began.
“Hello,” Ira bowed quickly, “I am Irakasle, I liveth on the first-floor o’
this tower and-” she was cut short by the woman.
“I knew that, darling. Please continue!”
 Brushing off the temporary embarrassment of the not-so-mutual
acquaintance, she resumed “and I needeth t’borrow an adaptor fo’ this PTV
memory card anon, if thee hast one. A friends wanteth some files from this, it
was found in an old PTV they inherited.”
“I have t’tell thee I kept one from the olden days, it must be somewhere
around here, give me a second!” and she promptly left, coming back about two
minutes later.
“Here! Have it, thee could eke keepeth it, fo’ it has no bearing on me.
Consider it a funerary gift. I am so sorry fo’ thee and thy husband. I seeth that
thee must be in mine own husband’s shoes, from when I decideth t’killeth mine
own self instead o’ watching my body faileth me bit by bit. He got over it in the
end, like thee shall too. After all, he must respecteth mine own decision if he
indeed ever did love me! That part doesn’t fit like a glove fo’ thyne situation,
but it is similar enough t’be looketh upon as synonymous. Respecteth his
decision t’board the damned plane and enjoy the rest o’ thy youth! That is my
piece o’ advice! Also, I don’t know whether thee art aware or not, but rumour
has it that sirrah Ypurd wisheth t’marry thee with a fellow cousin o’ yours, a
certain good-looking Arantzazu! I’d be looking forward t’seeing her if I was
t’be in thyne shoes, darling! Looketh at the good side, always the bright side!”
she ranted once she gave her the adaptor, a small piece of plastic and
electronics.
“Who the fuck asked for your opinion? Or your advice for that matter?
Insensible cunt, it’s so obvious that behind that gorgeous hair is a pile of rotting
ash in a jar…” Ira thought and lied in her response, as to not make the rumours
escalate. “‘Tis news thee art bringing here! I supposeth rumours art just
rumours, am I in the wrong?”
“Nay, certainly not! Gossip is always unreliable, we knoweth that!”
After she copied the files on her phone, she sent them by multimedia
message to everyone in her contact list, along with the screenshots of her call
with Aidan. Now it was the time to find out the truth. With nobody else to rely
on, she decided it was best to talk with Neka about it and bring him up to speed.
Maybe he could arrange a meeting with some higher-up, or find a lawyer to sue
the TV network that lied in the news report, or maybe, just maybe… sue
Heriotza himself.
She met him in front of the lift, where he had just returned from serving
lunch to her parents on the floor above. He was also looking for her, having
seen the messages she had sent. He had an angry smile of her face and his eyes
were speaking for him, asking her,
“What have you done, bitch?! Where did you get those from?!”, but of
course, his body language and words were carefully controlled and calm,
directed and edited in his mind before being acted out.
“I… am aware of the things you have sent, and while I didn’t see the
videos yet, I saw the screenshots of your husband. Have you practiced some
photo editing skills lately?” he pretended to be oblivious to the truth.
“No, it’s all real, I… don’t know how… or why, but… he’s alive, they
lied! The news, Heriotza, the government, everybody! They are all fooling us! I
don’t know what’s going on… I don’t…” she said as her face turned red with
emotion. “I don’t know… Help me, we gotta do something about it…”
“Who did you send that to? How do you know of Heriotza? Who is
making these… ridiculous, ridiculous accusations?” he asked as he put his hand
on her shoulder, trying to look compassionate. This time Ira smelled his
bullshit, woken to reality by his touch.
“Your hand is… hot… Why do you ask?! Why are you angry?!
Nervous?! I can see it in your eyes… Y-you… What’s wrong with you?!” and
she violently threw his hand off her shoulder and tried to slap him, only to have
her hand pass through his head. Because of his transparency, the PTV he had in
his pocket fell on the floor and he had to pick it up.
“Shit, shit, shit! You fuckwhit, moronic bitch! What have you done!” he
kept his voice down as his entire body got hotter. He himself was now on the
edge of losing his shit. “Let me make a phone call and then I’ll explain!” he
ordered her.
She started playing with her fingers to take out some of her stress. Her
face was now red with fury and detest instead of tears, but she kept her
composure, with a condition, “Only if you do it right now, with me listening.”
“Fine!” he then took his PTV and dialled a number.
“Who are you calling?” Ira inquired passive-aggresively.
“Heriotza.” he replied as the PTV was ringing and then switched to
talking with him. “Hello, boss? Um… We got a problem. Shall we initiate the
backup plan? I ask for an audience… right now. Things are not alright, you
should contact the network provider in regards to a few gigabytes of messages
send to a worrisome number of persons. Right now.” Neka explained in fear to
a silent Heriotza.
“Incompetent goat-fucking horse-vomit!” the Househead yelled so loud
Ira could her him despite it not being in loudspeaker mode. “I’ll be in my office.
Move your ass there until you have an ‘accident’ too!”
Ending the call, he told Ira, hotter than ever and scared beyond measure,
with fast-moving desperate eyes. “Get in the helicopter, I’m flying. Ninth floor,
come with me, as you are, it doesn’t matter.”
She followed him, not wanting to be burned by his touch if she protested.
First, they got to his headquarters, a small room at the ground floor, to take his
Artefact.
“I trust you not to smash that piece of metal and I promise you nobody is
going to hurt you. Some trust, like in the olden days… Or yesterday, however
you want to call it.” He proposed before letting her touch it.
“Sure… So, what’s going on?” she asked, still furious, but in enough
control of herself to be cooperative, as she didn’t know what she was going into
yet. It was best to keep her calm, for the moment.
“I could explain, but Harry will do a better job at that.” he excused
himself, baffling Ira with the casualness he addressed Heriotza with.
Then they headed straight for the helicopter stationed on the roof. Ira took
a few puffs of Khala from a cigar she had in her pocket as Neka was starting the
machine and in a matter of a few minutes, they were flying towards Centre 1,
above the people’s mansions and above the desperate protesters, in order to land
on a large balcony on one of the steps of the Pyramid.
Ira saw the screens in the main squares and the meeting that was being
taking place inside the building. Once they got inside on the well-light, pristine
and heavily-decorated interior of the Pyramid, she had the surprise of Neka
knowing exactly how to get through the maze, knowing each and every turn of
the labyrinth of offices, conference rooms and vestibules, up and down
countless flights of stairs. On their way she recognized a few faces of people
she had voted for at elections, talking with each other casually on the hallways.
Her frustration only rose, not understanding what was going on. While
the Khala helped her calm down for the moment, the continuous flow of
exasperating stimuli didn’t stop, an increasing number of questions putting a
strain of her mind, and she lost the willpower needed to fully control herself.
 Once showed the door to Heriotza’s private cabinet, she entered to be met
by him standing on a throne at the head of a table, and she was invited to sit in
front of him. A calm invitation. A bored… invitation… an infuriating one,
frustrating by its simplicity, by its banality, a triviality that broke the dam. Ira
ran towards him, demanding explanations, swearing and calling him names,
even punching her fists against the table as close to him as she could without
actually touching him, her uncontrolled rage and intimidating acting not moving
Heriotza one bit. He inexplicably smiled and had a short, discrete laugh. This
added salt to her injury and instead of stopping, she continued lashing out and
insulting him, before aggressively taking a seat and listening to him.
“Are you going to apologise for this?” he asked her.
“Speak before I make you pay for a new cabinet!” she yelled at him.
“Oh, Birdsnakes, here we go!” he began, crossing his hands and leaning
on them against the table while Ira was looking at her with spite and
unforgiving hate. “I understand that you found out your husband is not dead.
That is true. He’s currently on a ship, L.A. Paul Bear, heading for the Icetowers,
as it was intended. The point is, that’s not the entire story, alright? Spoiler alert:
the Icetowers are a frozen wasteland. No villages, no cities and no mansions.
Just ice, snow and ice. He was sent there because he knew too much. My friend,
the Minister of Internal Affairs, Charlotte Grandboule, has met both of you.
From her testimony and how much Neka had told me of your interactions with a
certain Unnquk individual, I gathered that he was too dangerous, as he didn’t
fall too easily for the ‘unfiction’ cover-up. That’s why he was send there. Now I
will allow you to ask question on your own terms.” he responded calmly.
“W-what?! Why? Why send people there? How? I saw people, I called
cousins and uncles and aunts, they showed me the Icetowers… And again,
why?! You… vile, full of shit, creature! How can you champion justice and
support this? Does everyone in this building know of this? For ho-” she was cut
off by Heriotza with a gesture in which he showed his palm to her face.
“Little by little, my dear. So, why send people there… Simple. It all
comes down to economics, if you think about it. You see, without artificially
cutting the population of the Tunics, we’d have problems with overpopulation
and we’d have too many people unemployed. The demand is only so high,
because besides entertainment, Tunics don’t consume too much. We could
either have the market decide how many people need to be producing and have
rampant unemployment, which leads to too much spare time. You know what
happens after people are left for hundreds of years to do whatever they want?
Imagine your wedding, but every day, everywhere! And that’s the good part.
After thousands of years of having no problems, they will start making up their
own problems. Stuff that defies all logic and reasons. I’ve seen that, I’ve lived
that!” and he changed his image from an old man to a young scarred man, with
wounds running all over his face. “This one was made in a civil war from within
the Freedomfighter clan, back then called Gerlari. It started from an argument
over who had the privilege of wearing golden rings.” and he put his hand on a
scar running for twenty centimetres across his chest. “Or this one, in a skirmish
over whether the title of Duke was oppressive and we should change it to
Leader, because one has royal connotations. Let me tell you, there wasn’t a
fucking difference. Both the Dukes and the Leaders, they did the same. Call
people like me, like you, to arms and die in their name.” and he pointed to a
round gunshot would on his shoulder. “Even more ridiculous were the wars
over nothing! We killed people with curly hair because it was the ‘sign of filth’,
and we were the ‘clean ones’! Clean my ass! Clean as the blood on our arms!”
Heriotza explained as he got hotter himself. “But you didn’t come here to hear
an unedited version of the world before the War of Unification. I had to tell you,
since you cannot begin to imagine what people with nothing better to do start. It
all starts with a bit of ambition and a sense of not being respected after so long.
It grows from a seed of unsatisfaction and unattended, it grows into nonsense,
into wars over the ownership of a hill, over someone from another tribe cheating
on you, over a foreign merchant scamming you. Then you develop a sense of
generalised hate. A guy did something to you, and all of a sudden you hate his
mother, his father and anyone that looks like them. You hate people you never
met. I fell for it before the great war. For us it was more of a revolution, but it
doesn’t matter. The point is, you cannot have thousands of people with
hundreds of years of disposable time and expect nothing to go wrong. Hate
between generations, hate between families, within families, it’s horrible.”
“That makes no sense! Something like that can never happen!” Ira
protested, which angered Heriotza,
“Listen up, you privileged bitch! You never saw a war, you never saw
real conflict! I lived it! I experienced the hate, I hated myself! And it was not
only me, it was everyone. The Charlotte for example, killed countless people in
the name of the superiority of the Seagle! Can you imagine that?” he asked her
rhetorically, knowing how she would respond.
“But they are equal, it says right in the myth, they depend on each other!
You are full of shit!” she accused him.
 “That’s the idea! We did that! A central authority, authorising what can
be said did that! I lived before such a central government ever existed. The
people on the coast preferred the Seagle, for obvious reasons, and people in the
plains and hills the Birdsnake. You’re smart enough to realise why such
preferences existed in a disconnected world, were one would only travel in the
immediate vicinity of one’s birthplace, right? We enforced the equality between
the two to create unity, to create this country!”
“Then why not employ everyone?! That was what you were trying to
explain in the first place…” Ira returned the conversation on track after this
side-track.
“Right, sorry for that… If we did that, the production would be too high,
we’d topple even other nation’s import needs. Believe me, that’s what we’re
doing here every day, analysing the market and need. The economy would
constantly go to shit every few years, extremely unstable. Imagine having so
many products, that everything is cheap, but you make so little money because
of the large cesspool of workers available… that you can’t afford shit! Your
lifestyle would never be achievable under those circumstances. But by
artificially controlling both the demand and the supply, we can keep an
equilibrium! That’s why I, and every other Househead, dictates how many
children you are allowed to have, and what sex they should be. Of course,
people don’t always succeed, that’s why we have punishments for over-
producing children. We fix this at every Cleasing, when we cut from the oldest
people, except us, the ones running this shit, in order to balance the population.
It’s simple. Pure economics.” he explained, but it was not satisfactory for Ira.
“Aah, so now you’re not affected by your own laws? Isn’t that unfair, a
little hypocritical, huh? And tell me how old is Aidan? And the people that
fucking showed me the Icetowers? Are those distractions? Paid actors, or a
minority, people that you deem important enough?” she criticized him.
“I admit, a small dose of hypocrisy is required, but it makes more good
than evil. Without us, this system might fall apart and the quality of life drop to
pre-war levels. You’d enjoy a mud hut! Anyway, Aidan… he… is a problem.
With this occasion we also get rid of people that would oppose the system. This
includes those who find out too much and believe, like Aidan, or people who
died early, anyone that dies before 50 years old. Sometimes also criminals like
serial killers and thief, but we don’t have too many of those, because of the high
standard of living. Also, disabled people. We really encourage them to kill
themselves an then we give them the ‘early retirement bonus’ and they get sent
there. Even without knowing what he did, Aidan, as an orphan, was not send
earlier because he didn’t commit assisted suicide. That’s rare enough that we
don’t have rules for such cases. And in regard to the ‘people’ you ‘saw’…
some, before being retired, are scanned and recorded, in order to create a
computer program to simulate them. Their personality is similar to the real
person because of the data own field agents, like Neka, are giving us. I’m
surprised it got so popular; I mean the thing stinks of fake! You can only call
few people, you are always the first to call, the calls are short and the
conversations generic. It just goes to show how shallow people have become
after hundreds of years of working and how stupid the population is. Excuse me
for saying this, but… you get it, you’re smart!” Heriotza laughed at his small
pun, while Ira was processing the information, holding her head between the
hands and breathing heavily.
“How… And the Miqhuns? Unnquk was one, and I saw some others
while Aidan called me… What’s up with them?”
“Well… The relationship is consensual. They have a long of history of
living on rocky shitholes on the South Coast. That doesn’t foster a military
culture, only poverty and tribalism. That means they were used by a lot of
people, the first conquerors to be remembered, that had hegemony over them,
being the Muhtenesh. Then the Hakdan, during whose reign, the Soft Mountains
were emptied of most resources. Despite what those protesters want you to
believe, history isn’t so black and white. They were using Miqhun and
Muhtenesh, essentially slaves, to build an empire based on industry and mass
production. They themselves built the factories and poisoned themselves. They
first turned Nephtar grey, we took over then while they could still be stopped.
Right after the revolution, when I was a general in Wushon’s grandfather army,
when the tribes of the Lanvos plains were united, which is a story for another
time, we allied with the Free City of Soulin. The entire city came to our aid,
hundreds of thousands, and we ended the Hakdan empire before it became
unstoppable with the industry. When we got to the Miqhun lands, we made an
agreement in the Treaty of South Waters. They get high autonomy, education
and discount products in exchange for manpower, in case they were needed.”
“So, the genocide was just a story? The fucking genocide was fake?!” Ira
asked in disbelief.
“Not entirely. The Hakdans really reduced both the Muhtenesh and
Miqhun numbers. The former integrated or migrated while the Miqhuns just
stayed until we decided they’d have to ferry the Tunics to Icetowers. He did
genocide the Hakdans though, that much is true. It was a little overkill, I have to
admit, but look, two thousand years later only a few thousands are not
assimilated and they barely remember anything. I mean, the elders and adults
were the targets, generally. We didn’t kill to many children, we’re not monsters.
And for the help of the Soulin, we gave them the Euskera Peninsula. They sent
over some colonists and now we call it ‘The Colony’. Crazy times… mad
days… You’re lucky you weren’t born yet!”
“What. The. Fuck! Do you have any idea how barbaric that whole thing
is?! You took over the whole continent by force?! Then lied and changed
history? How could you lie to the people like that?! How could you hide this?!”
she asked as she could not imagine something like that happening.
“Look, it seems like series of great events 2000 years later. It wasn’t like
that though; it was more like gradual change. In regards to culture, dismissing
the rivalry between the Birdsnake and Seagle was not seen as changing history.
They called it ‘a return to form, a correction of our divided and bigoted past’,
nobody was purposefully changing history. The people wanted to be lied to.
They lied to themselves! When we took over the factories of the Hakdan, it was
‘war reparations’ and the genocide was seen as ‘revenge for the suffering of the
Muhtenesh and Miqhuns’, but eventually people forgot about that too. The only
meaningful manipulation was censoring writings by having them checked by
the government and controlling who could become a tutor. The people started it
and we gave them what they wanted. To break away from a scarred past. To
start anew! Thanks to Jiu Wushon, who instead of declaring himself king or
emperor of the continent, declared a republic, this central government was put
in place. People were so excited to choose who will rule them! There was a
problem though… This system was easily broken by whoever’s descendants
reproduced the most. As such, the first population control measures were taken.
People that disagreed were arrested in mass and send to ‘prison’, but in fact
that’s how the Miqhuns got their job. The same applied to the elders, except us,
the leaders, and I admit, at first, we did lie. We promised them we were building
those mansions at the Icetowers, but we never built them, and the promises just
remaining words and nothing else.” Heriotza explained.
“Monsters! And who got their hands dirty? You? Brainwashed
hypocrites? Who the fuck?!” Ira asked with tears in her eyes, yet so angry that
she didn’t realise she was gritting her teeth.
“Yes, I personally send thousands to the Icetowes. We send them all over
to coast so that they wouldn’t find about each other too soon. And yes, people
who understood our intentions and the sacrifices we made, like Neka, they
helped us. In our family, all butlers are actually such agents. Other families have
other systems, it doesn’t matter as long as it works.”
 “But how did you stay in power? It’s a democracy, people will choose
different people to rule them, how did everyone for two thousand years agree to
have you? You yourself haven’t been in the Parliament your whole life… How?
Where are the checks and balances?”
“Well… Indeed, such a strong system of centralised power wouldn’t
succeed in a ‘true’ and ‘fair’ democracy. That’s why we reached a compromise.
You see, when you vote… Who are you voting for? For example, before me, a
dude called Lars Nottemberg was. He was also a part of the revolution, Great
Unification War, again, same shit, and besides that… He’s my son-in-law! Do
you think he would choose anything that contradicts with what I would do! As
long as you choose a rich person to lead you, do you think it matters who?
They’ll all follow their own interests. And you might wonder… But what when
somebody new makes it into the industry? To which I present to you… Neka!
Future politician, if I forgive him for the mistake he did with you out of
incompetence, that is.” he emphasised when throwing a look at him, who was
listening to the conversation from the back. “We don’t live forever ourselves.
Jiu Wushon died when he hair his Artefact consisted of rotted away. It
happened to countless other people. That’s when someone makes it into the
industry and why the Househead position is not inherited. It is earned, usually
by the son of the current Househead, but not always. I wouldn’t choose any of
my direct close descendants. They’re either at the Icetowers, dead twice, or
incompetent pricks. Neka was one of my favourites until he fucked up today. I
don’t know when the piece of metal than my war-axe degenerated into will
finally break. That’s why I keep it in very carefully controlled conditions. Still,
for all I know I could just vanish from existence tomorrow.”
“But… Neka? I thought he was… This…” Ira was dumbfounded by the
explanation. “The lies… how could you?! What about the freedom of the
people? Liberty? Self-determination of people?”
“Self-determination leads to war and destruction. I saw it! I lived it! I
know it! People are too dumb for their own good. I knew you’d get to liberty…”
Heriotza paused to have a condescending laugh. “Liberty is not a right, my dear,
it a privilege. One that kills you from the inside, like a cancer. It develops into
anarchy if left unattended. That’s why nobody is free, everybody lives in the
illusion of freedom. You are in a position of unspeakable privilege, you and
everyone around you, having been spoiled from birth! Only from a position of
privilege can you complain of a lack of freedom. Starving people don’t want
freedom, they want food, even at the cost of freedom. Hurt, traumatised people
want peace, at the cost of freedom. Oppressed people want to be accepted, not
freedom. Slaves don’t want freedom, they want equality. Those are different
things. This country might not be free, but it is equal in many ways. Only the
one that has nothing to worry about cares about freedom, not realising it will
take away everything that allows one to care about freedom in the first place.
Freedom is a mirage, fuel of a wheel of self-destruction. A wheel that I helped
stop, and that your husband, or you, won’t destroy. You’d agree with me if you
were to go through the same things that I’ve been through… But I sacrificed
thousands of years of existence so that you wouldn’t be touched by the winds of
war. So you wouldn’t be raped by a soldier. So that you could live in luxury.
And call our methods all you want. ‘Unfair’, ‘immoral’, whatever, it doesn’t
matter, because at the end of the day, it works. And you can’t deny it!”
“Maybe I can’t, but I have the freedom to put my trust in people! To
believe that humans can change, that this era of prosperity can continue without
you! That while it may require authoritarianism to start it, it then can go on its
own! You don’t have to hold the seat of a child’s bike forever! People can
change! And I believe we can do better! That we can progress and reach even
higher standards of life if you weren’t in the way of progress!” she argued off
the tops of her lungs, fighting for what she stood for.
“You hear her Neka, she wants even higher standards! Then go and get
high 100% of the time until your brain receptors are burned off! Physically you
can’t be happier than that… I told you, Neka, people can never say ‘No,
enough, no more’, they always thirst for more. The luxury she lives in is not
enough, nothing is ever enough! That’s the same ambition, that put in the hands
of a general, leads to war. The exact same lust for power!” Heriotza looked at
Neka and laughed together with him at Ira’s arguments.
“You’re right, Harry!” Neka replied, facepalming himself.
“My darling, at the end of the day, you are still my descendant. We’re not
killing anybody at the Icetowers because it was never about murder. People like
me were raised by homicide and we eradicated it on our continent. We’d never
kill anyone. That’s why the death punishment is outside the law of the Lavonian
Association. The Autonomous Region of South Waters is another story, he has
to exercise control there somehow so it doesn’t become its own state. I give you
a choice, like a father to a daughter. Join us, and you’ll become the next butler
after Neka. You’ll get your shot at ruling this country. You won’t have to
experience the horrifying, true freedom of the Icetowers. I can forgive you.” he
made a final offer, a final ultimatum.
 Ira smilled and laughed as a tear fell across her check above her boiling
blood, and then made a joke.
“Freedomfighter Heriotza… isn’t that ironic?” she asked jokingly.
Both Heriotza and Neka laughed at the joke, taking off from some of the
built-up tension.
“Good marketing is good marketing. Whatever sells!” Heriotza answered.
“Freedomfighter Ira… that’s not ironic.” she continued, denying the
offer once and for all, with good reason behind it which she explained, “It
crossed my mind to lie and accept, but sooner or later I would be discovered. I
cannot lie for hundreds of years without being caught or starting to believe the
lie… And if I tried to expose you from the inside, I’d still fail. The way you
cover real, actual Miqhuns begging for help with stories… Nobody would
believe me. There’s no point in trying, is it?”
“Girl, it’s so unfortunate that you’re not using that brain of yours for an
achievable goal. It is regrettable, because you are right. We, the Househeads,
own everything, by the very way the family works. And we also just so happen
to have the vast majority in Parliament. We do control everything. The
messages you send are deleted at this point, I had to make a few calls and it
should be done by now. The news are also controlled by us. The military is
controlled by us. And we’ve gotten away with way worse stuff. You know of
the tragic end of the Smoke Riots? The conspiracies are almost right, he did
plant a few bombs, but they technically started the chain of explosions. How did
a mand man get hold of a stock of grenades… that’s a ‘mystery’, you know
what I’m saying.” Heriotza appreciated her decision.
“And you were fine with this?!” Ira turned to Neka.
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Millions would’ve died if they
actually blew up the Pyramid somehow.” he replied unapologetically, with an
ever-so-slight tilt of… pride? A tilt that was more evident on Heriotza’s face.
“And the conspiracy of secretly invading the South of Rhovna? Is that
true too?” Ira asked as the line which separated truth from lies in her mind
vanished into obscurity, letting facts miggle in with fiction.
“No, that’s entirely made up, but that’s beside the point. You know too
much to be left free, and are not willing to cooperate. With all due respect, in
my eyes you are no longer my daughter. I disown you.” Heriotza proclaimed
her sentence, to which Ira vehemently protested.
 “You can’t do that! You have no real reason! If you were to say the
reason, you’d show the world what’s really going on! And you’d never do that!
You know that if people knew of your bullshit, your little paradise would be
overthrown! That if Tunics stopped working and looked around, you’d be
lynched with your whole government for crimes against the people!”
“You see, I’m still here because I am a good judge of character. That’s
why Neka didn’t explain this himself. To annoy you. So that you’d make a fool
of yourself in front of that camera.” And he pointed to one on the wall above
Neka’s head. “There’s always a bigger fish. Except me! The footage will be
edited so that this conversation would be about your husband’s death. Except
the first part where you insult me. That will be left, so I have a reason to disown
you. There’s no point in coming to the court, you can enjoy your last week at
home.” Heriotza unveiled just how planned the whole meeting actually had
been.
“An entire week? Who do I own this special privilege too?” Ira asked and
then spit on his face. “If I am to be framed anyway, I might actually have fun
with his shit!”
“It’s not goodwill, it’s bureaucracy. I told you, we’re equal, I still have to
wait for a scheduled meeting. We’re equal, except that I have power. I never
promised fairness, or equity. By Elysion, that’s worse than freedom! Anyway,
you can destroy this cabinet once we leave. Neka will be waiting outside after
you’re done to take you home. Bye, stranger!” Heriotza said as he got out of his
throne and left the room, Neka following suit.
“That’s not equality… You’re full of shit!” she told herself.
Left all alone with her inner demons, she took her anger out by destroying
the room, breaking chair, toppling the heavy table and turning over the thrones,
as well as graffitiing the walls with a pen she saved off the table.
“The..urgh! Fuck ‘em, fuck ‘em both, to the moon and back! May they
burn forever in Doomsland! I trusted you, I fucking did, and this is who you
really were?! Fucking monster! Dickheads, hypocrites, scum of the earth! I’d
shit on you and then kill! Slowly, painfully! Motherfuckers!” she was shouting,
expressing her feelings of rage and betrayal.
In her rage, she made up her mind on one way she would have a fraction
of the revenge she yearned for,
“I will murder you! I will, oh, I will! Fucking murder you!”
While flying over the city, Neka was extremely apologetical, while Ira didn’t
respond to any of his attempt at making contact.
“Look, you have to understand I never wanted to resort to this. It all
could’ve been nice, you’d’ve gotten a new wife and kept living happily ever-
after. Ignorance is bliss sometimes. Please understand that I do care about you,
it’s just that I put myself first. We don’t have to ruin the good times we had
because of some disagreement in the present!”
He got no reply, Ira just looked at the buildings beneath them. Eventually
he gave up on trying to reach out. Ira was preoccupied with more important
things than listening to the lies of such a spineless creature.
Heriotza had listened to Neka’s fears of being assassinated, so his
Artefact was packed neatly in a metallic case, which once they landed, he asked
her to bring down. They left the helicopter and Neka headed for the elevator,
not noticing Ira wasn’t following him. When he realised, he turned his back to
see Ira standing on the edge on the tower with the case hanging above the great
fall. Neka began to panic, approaching Ira slowly with his hands in plain view.
“Look, I know that you’re angry and confused, but doing that won’t solve
anything… The Artefact might not even break, and if it did, you don’t want a
murder charge above the insult! Listen to me, please, you don’t have to do it!”
“Did you know that this is made of unpadded aluminium?” she asked in
return. “This thing is very light, and you can hear the clink it makes when I
shake it!” and she made a demonstration right then and there.
Neka was turning desperate, seeing there was no-one to reason with, but
tried nonetheless,
“Ira, I know Heriotza very well, what do you want? I can get it, I can get
Aidan back, anything!” he pleaded for his own life, throwing himself on his
knees in an attempt to win some mercy.
“Did you know there are no witnesses?” she asked as she let the case fall
with an emotionless voice, dry of any drop of mercy, compassion or regret.
“NOO!!!” Neka howled, getting up and running as fast he could towards
her, wanting to throw her over the edge for what she did to him, but he
disappeared once Ira heard a faint metallic crackle, only a breeze of wind
reaching her as Neka dematerialised himself in front of her eyes.
Ira smiled, looking at the PTV left behind by Neka once he vaporised.
Now it was time to make it look like an accident, so she intentionally opened
the door of the helicopter and purposefully stumbled when getting out, making
herself fall close to the edge of the tower. She was careful to control her reflexes
and not try to protect her head, so that the impact with the roof top from the
height of the fall would knock her out. It worked according to plan, and she lay
there, unconscious on the roof.

QUESTION FOR AUDIENCE:

Does Heriotza have a point? (You don’t have to agree, just to see if
someone could logically get to that conclusion)
Is there too much emphasis on Heriotza’s backstory (and the one of
Lanvos)?
Is this chapter satisfying or intriguing?

Chapter 17: Change of plan

The morning in the aftermath of the takeover, Aidan woke up early in the
morning with an unexpected amount of energy. Yesterday’s lethargic mood
banked some energy he didn’t realise he was storing. He had no way of
knowing the time for sure, but the powerful silk orange rays of sun coming from
his window assured him it wasn’t time to be up and about, not in a regular
morning that is.
“Ugh… Yeah, kinda early… And it’s much colder outside, here is so
warm and comfy! And the mattress! Oh, the mattress… it’s like the old one at
the apartment; I didn’t know I missed it! I- I think it’s better to go back, nothing
bad can happen.” and thusly he closed his eyes again and used the newfound
energy to go back to sleep.
The rest wasn’t profound, it was a constant fall in and out of a state of
half-conscious dreaming. He would instinctually wake up after one or
maximum two hours, but often he couldn’t rest for more than half an hour. The
difference was that the burst of energy was gone. He kept waking up again, but
he was tired, barely able to open his eyes and formulate a well-thought out idea
in his mind, an idea that consisted again and again in a desire to delay life,
going back to sleep, in a paradox were his body disagreed with the instincts but
agreed with the mind.
 This ended when the force of hunger didn’t let him fall into the same
cycle of sleep, but forced him to stay up and realise he needed to get up at once.
Without realising it, he had wasted the entirety of the morning. He put on his
tunic, as there were no other clothes he had and tried to keep it somewhat clean
by at least not sleeping in it. Without washing his face, he headed straight to the
dining room through the unfamiliar steel tunnels of washed-out reflections. He
heard the voices of some people disagreeing over something he could not
understand coming from the dining room.
“Drug them? How did you even do that?! Did you plan this from the
beginning? What’s wrong with you?!” Hula accused Jola.
“No, no, no! I only came up with this once the guy showed up. Now we
don’t have any somniferous meds in the kits, but what did you expect us to do,
huh? ‘Please, would you all kindly accept to give the ship to us?’, you think
that’d’ve worked? You spoke to the captain and didn’t report before 8. I
assumed he disagreed!” Jola defended himself.
“Well, he did… but it’s… fuck it! The antenna isn’t working and we have
some time before they find we fooled them. Let’s pray to Ikuat we make it in
time without hunters. But now what do we do with the guy? What if he turns on
us?” Hula changed the subject.
“Speaking of which…” Jola said as Aidan entered the room.
He was surprised by seeing only the two of them, but he didn’t know the
time, so he asked,
“Um… you two know what time it is? Or when is lunch? I’m kinda
hungry to be honest. And while we’re at it… where’s the rest?”
The two looked at each other not knowing what to say, Jola more
confused than Hula.
“What the fuck is he saying? Does he want food? We can get Wali give
him some leftovers, we just had lunch.” Jola suggested.
“Let me try to clarify.” Hula told him and then turned to Aidan, who was
listening clueless to their words, “Fud? Lunch? Wi done have lunch, sitted end
waited.” he said as he invited him to sit down.
Sitting down, Aidan watched as Hula went to the kitchen and Jola sat
awkwardly there, unable to speak. Aidan didn’t pick up on that though, so he
tried to make conversation.
 “So… I was wondering… In one recording, Unnquk showed a poor
village, but I haven’t seen anything like that. Propaganda aside, is it the rule or
the exception? It looked like people could live in those meteorological
stations… I mean, I saw kids eating there, if I remember correctly.” he asked
scratching his head.
“Um… Ney seyt…Ney get…” he excused himself and then thought,
“Shit, is there anyone that can speak better than Hula among us? Oh, shit!” he
realised the general inability to communicate with him. “I thought I’d convince
at least one that can speak, but if I think about it… Well, we’re going to get
over this somehow.”
Aidan now realised he could not be understood and excused himself,
“Nay, no bad, no bad, oq-oq is!” and he waited in silence for Hula to
return with the soup. Without looking at Jola, he spoke while bringing it,
“We can’t hide forever, if he gets what’s going on by himself, he might
not take our side. Let’s just lie.”
Jola nodded his head in agreement, and when Hula handed Aidan the
soup and he began eating, he began speaking,
“Kalik kapten is… knowed that?” he asked on a high note and Aidan
nodded his own head in turn, asking him to continue his point. “He closed
room-in. He end closed people thau ded want. Kalik thau ded seed.” and he
hinted at the meaning by pretending to punch his own head and faint.
“Stop that, you’re acting like a kid!” Jola protested, disgusted and
embarrassed by his behaviour.
“You explain it then!” Hula rebuked him and them tried to transmit the
next part of the message, “Wi meiked thau liv. Go nay Astowar, nay Lukliq, nay
Unnquk-land. Dzeah Ded Islaand go. Ded Island… tru, wi go. Wi liv, wi fayt,
we get thau ‘ome!” he attempted to explain, but Aidan was confused, so he
stopped eating and listened to them.
“What?! The captain is closed? You mean locked? He wants me dead?
Impossible! I spoke to him yesterday, he would never do that, he said the
opposite yesterday, I talked with him! And Dead Islands? Have you forgotten
that we are alive?! They’ll kill us, they kill everything that breathes!”
“Um…” Hula tried to find the words, “Kalik layd. Thau stop, end thau
nay waited, ‘poaw!’ thau ded!” he gestured again with a punch the interjection,
which was amusing Jola now.
 “And you, why are you laughing!?” Aidan asked Jola, but he had no
reaction, unable to get any of it.
“He did not lie, the captain gave me some shitty advice that day, no way
he was lying! I demand an audience with him! Where is he?” Aidan didn’t buy
the half-assed explanation.
“Um…” Hula himself had no idea what he was referring to for sure.
“Kalik closeth where? I speaket t’him wanteth!” he dumbed down his
speech to, hopefully, something more understandable. “Dead Islands… Thou
wanteth me dead! Dead Island ghosts killeth me, killeth thou!” Aidan began
shouting, getting up from his chair.
“Ded nay killed! Nay I, nay thau! Killed nay one! Thau… left is!” Hula
wanted to clarify.
“What the fuck are you saying?” Aidan asked, “left…? Left where?”
“Hee ‘vrong’ seyd! Dau vrong is! Ded Aisland ney keell!” Jola inserted
himself for the first time, having understood where Hula was going.
“Dzeah, a lie, Miqhun-like, wi liv, wi nay ded. Ded Aisland nay killed,
dey let’d liv! Wi go, fayt liddle, end thau go ‘ome!” Hula reinforced the point.
Aidan was troubled by this possibility that didn’t come to mind at first,
“Doomsland, how could I be so stupid! Of course! Nobody knows how
many of the things about the outside world are lies. Those people could be
friendly in reality and they’d want us to think they are evil for… why? Just
why? In fact, let me take a look at the bigger picture…” and having thought
that, Aidan sat down again, talking out loud confident the two wouldn’t
understand much.
“What about the Free Cities? Do they know about this? We certainly have
good relationships with them as trade partners and we can go there on holidays
as Lavonians. The Rhovnian Empire is a much more obscure place and nobody
goes to the Dead Islands… Why is that? How do these international relations tie
in with the Icetower scheme? Do they tie at all…? Are the Dead Islands
opposing this practice? This guy said something about getting me home and a
little fighting… That’s it, I need to speak to Kalik, these idiots are incapable of
explaining a complex situation!”
The two shuddered in place when they heard the captain’s name, and
Hula figured out what would be Aidan’s next question.
 “Thau nay spik Kalik-to, he played thau head, meiked nay clean, nay
order! Nay spik! Nay alla’ow!”
“Well, in that case you, sound like totally reasonable people that trust me
very much, respect me, my intelligence and have nothing to hide!” Aidan
replied sarcastically. Jola had no reaction again, being lost at the word ‘case’,
while Hula threw his hands in preparation for a hug to celebrate,
“Daz’it! Thau habe it! That wi try’d to sey’d!” he rejoiced, going over to
him to pat him on the back.
Aidan resumed eating the soup as there was not much else he could do at
that moment. There was a sore poking through his forehead, an unnerving
feeling that as time went by became a numbness that spread through his body.
He could feel it in his heart how it was being weighed down by the weight of
the void begging to be fed misery,
“I indeed was quick to judge the character of the Dead Islands’ Tunics. It
could all be part of the fabricated history. Maybe they don’t hate us. Maybe they
do and these two fuckers are lying. I don’t know. I don’t know anything.
Nothing is true. Everything is a lie. I can’t wholly trust myself. I can’t wholly
trust anyone. Nothing matters, so why bother? What’s the point? If these people
wanted me dead, I’d be dead by now. Little does it matter who takes me where
they want. I can’t go where I want even if I had the chance… Icetowers, Dead
Islands… What’s the difference, at the end of the day? Both strange places
where people will toss me around for whatever reasons they have and then get
rid of me, and neither are home. Who knows why these people want my help?
They only care about me because they think they can help themselves through
me. They want justice, freedom and other shits, but can’t they see… that is
matters not? Lavonian oppressors, Miqhun oppressors… What’s the difference?
Fools, blissfully ignorant moronic fools… retards, just like me. I couldn’t listen
to my guts and believe Unnquk. Where did it get me? Here, exiled from my
home and my everything, with people that can’t understand me… on multiple
levels. If only… if only I had listened to my guts, then maybe… Who am I
kidding, what does it matter? If I listened to Unnquk, I could not be able to
change anything. He would’ve gotten arrested, just like his friends. And if I
believed, I might have refused Heriotza’s offer, but I would still know the truth.
I’d have to live with the truth, trapped in a world unaware of it, without anyone
that believed me. I’d find myself even more alone, because even with her by my
side, I’d still be alone in my mind, alone in my understanding, alone in my
cursed, for lack of a better word, ‘enlightenment’… It all leads to the same
place… My choices… Don’t matter. I don’t matter. I am nobody, I am
inconsequential, I can’t change the world, but the world can change me…” he
thought, having fuelled his misery combustion engine, and the residual tears
accumulated around his eyes, without spilling out into the soup he was eating.
“I don’t trust him.” Jola said to Hula, doubting his honesty, “I heard his
voice, and that was not sincere. He spoke like he didn’t mean it.”
“What do you mean? You don’t even know what he said, how can you
tell that? Stop talking bullshit…” Hula disagreed, oblivious to Aidan’s sarcasm.
“I am a good judge of character. I can feel he doesn’t trust us. I’d say we
tie him up and lock him somewhere too, but he is too harmless. I can… I can
smell his sadness, for whatever reason he is a broken man… If he doesn’t do
anything, we can let him be. At the first sign that he’s trying something though,
we go down on him, alright?” Jola explained his gut feeling.
“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Hula promised, to shut Jola up instead of
actually believing.
Without anything better to do, Aidan wanted to spent the rest of the
afternoon on the balcony, but it had gotten colder than before and a storm was
forming on the horizon again. Because of this, he had to go back inside, where
he walked along the corridors almost aimlessly, with the lose objective of
getting somewhere. He went down a flight of stairs and saw from the end of a
corridor that there was someone eating dinner in front of a wardrobe. He had no
idea what a wardrobe was doing there, so he went up to the man to ask.
“Hey, what’s up with this? What it do?” he asked, pointing at the piece of
furniture and frowning his eyebrows to exaggerate a confused facial expression.
“Er…hm… I do… it do klose! Klose bed man! Ney out, man in!”
Nunnuk tried to explain with his limited vocabulary.
“Hm…” Aidan pretended to not easily understand Nunnuk, while actually
an idea formed in his mind, “Aha…” he began saying on an angry voice, “As
such, thusly is thy intention o’ secluding the villainous bastards that wished
upon me bad faith in null quantities! The ones that indulge in a perpetual,
utmost and constant failure of disappointing me!”
Nunnuk applauded and agreed to show his approval while chewing, the
angry tone and the few bad words he could distinguish deceiving him to the true
meaning of what he was saying.
According to his intention, Aidan’s comments were heard by the insiders
and the wardrobe replied to him,
 “Eyden! Doth not trust tzem! Doth not help tzem! Tze big powerful one,
he wants us to go to tze Dead Islands, he took over tze ship!”
“Keep talking, bad rotten sea weed!” Aidan interrupted him to create the
illusion of an argument, complemented by Kalik’s loud shouting.
“Tze hunter ships will find us! We have to go to the Icetowers before
tzen! Tzey will zink the vessel! We art more than half-way tzere!”
“Villainous fuckers! They will pay for this! Dead Islands Tunics shall kill
us, am I right!” Aidan crossed his fingers to hopefully get an answer from
someone his feelings told him he could trust.
“We will be dead before we get to worry-o tzose!” the wardrobe warned
him, and he got the message.
That was enough talking for now, so he turned to the baffled Nunnuk,
pointing at the wardrobe and saying,
“Stupid, they think you and me stupid!” and he faked some laugher to
look more convincing, then patted his shoulder, “Oq? Oq!”
“Dzeah, oq!” Nunnuk replied clueless to what actually happened, but
confident enough it that it mattered not, so he let Aidan go away without further
ado.
Aidan now had the problem of what he would do. If it was true that they
were half-way to the Icetowers, then in about two or three days they should
arrive. However, the Dead Islands were much further away. While never having
gone there himself, he saw it on the map. The Kingdom of the Dead Islands was
as far east as the map could show, beyond the entirety of the Rhovnian Empire
and its continent.
“Alright, let’s think clearly… shall we? Oq, so… um… it seems these
guys disagree on where to go with the ship. Some would rather do their job,
while I guess the big guy that spoke to me at lunch is more into the Dead
Islands ‘vacation’ plan. So, what’s in it for me? If I help these guys and return
to the continent, then I’m screwed; my life will be at the wimps of total
strangers! If I let these guys do their job… my life will be either at the wimps of
total strangers from the Dead Islands, or I won’t be alive in the first place and
this ship will sink. At first thought, it seems that I have better chances of
survival if I go with the captain… But this is a mutiny, he certainly lost
‘authority points’ in the eyes of the fellow imprisoned crew. What if there is
another mutiny and they decide to do their job and leave me to freeze out there?
I can’t just let the captain out; I would have to free my own murderers. At least
the muscly guy doesn’t want me dead, otherwise I’d be already dead! He also
doesn’t want the other crew dead, but I guess that’s because they would rat
them out once they appear next to their Artefact. Heriotza belives my Artefact is
here on the ship, otherwise there would be no point in killing me at the
Icetowers through exposure, if I wouldn’t be stuck there with no chance of
coming back… But whatever, the idea is… I can’t control my own destiny
either way. There is no point, it’s all the same. The struggle is meaningless, I’ll
end up the same either way. I think I’ll go to my room and sleep some more.”
he ruled there was no way to assert his own influence in the world, to take back
control over his own life. That’s why he decided to just let the waves smash and
the wind blow. There is no point in fighting the inevitable.
As he sat there, starring at the steel plates that made the ceiling, looking
the bolts like staring at the stars in the sky while on the background thunders
roared over the high sea, he realised he still had something to do. He couldn’t
let Ira live with the hope of him getting back, he had to be honest, he had to slap
her with the truth and tell her while he could that he wouldn’t return. That it was
better for her to just move on and live happily ever after without him. Just
because his life was destroyed by the truth, it didn’t mean that hers should too.
If she could just forget… that’d be nice, Aidan reasoned. Wanting to use the on-
going storm as cover, he got up and headed for the bridge, where he knew there
would be someone to get a PTV from. There, he was met only by someone’s
refusal,
“Storm, Eye-from-Above blind, give PTV, I talk wife.” he simplified his
refusal to the most basic level he could, hoping to be understood.
“Ney! Kalik bed lidar wen dau sey’d PTV wive wit! Ay no see us, wi ney
maikedh Ay zee wit PTV!” he fiercely opposed the action.
Aidan politely accepted the refusal, bowed and returned to his room
without another word. There was no need for dinner, some stomach ache to
distract him from the world around wasn’t that bad after all.
The following morning, he woke up tired, but with a desire for breakfast
strong enough to get him out and go to the dinning room. There he was
surprised by the sight of the people around the table. There was the muscly guy
and three other people, one of which he remembered from the night he first
came into contact with them and another being the guard at the wardrobe.
“Where’s your friend from yesterday?” Aidan asked Hula, joining the
group without being invited, but encountering no opposition.
 “Shift, he guard bed people. Cook kitchen is. Go esk fud!” Hula replied,
while an idea sprung up in his mind.
“I… I might have overestimated these guys.” Aidan thought, a series of
sparks growing into fireworks inside is mind, “There’s gotta be somebody at the
helm and someone at the prisoners at all times, but… What’s this? It’s like… at
least six people! Only six! I can take them out and steer this thing wherever I
want… This… It can’t be that simple!”, the sight of an opportunity sending him
flying through a cloud of troubled, muddied thoughts.
The contempt he had with accepting his fate ran out now that he could do
something. It ran out, and now he was falling. He had the feeling of freefalling
in his heart with every second he spent not contemplating a way to get rid of
them all. An inability to swallow easily, or to take a full breath and calm down.
He was in full fight or flight mode amid the predators, and he showed nothing
but a disappointed face adorned with burning black eyes of chiselled coal.
While eating the breakfast, he was calculating the risks involved and
when the time to strike would be most opportune. He had the chance to take
revenge instead of turning the other cheek again and again. He could scratch the
smug grin off fate’s face and bathe in its blood as an ultimate act of defiance.
He had to act now. He made a plan to strike that night, but destiny tempted him
to take action even sooner. He saw the leader of this operation, as well as the
man that refused his request to call Ira, both yawn.
“Ha-ha! Big bear sleepy! Tough night, eh?” he joked around, but most of
the laughs his remark got were forced from people who didn’t get the joke. Hula
though understood, and he was amused.
“He-he! Big bear go slip, nayg’t up hi was, go bed end drim!” and he
excused himself in order to go to his room and take a nap. He was soon
followed by the other sleepy man.
He took care to eat slowly, and he was the only one left. He decided
there was no time to waste, and his first target would be Walinu the cook. He
was resting while something was heating to the point of boiling, and when he
approached, Aidan came relaxed, only to jump all of a sudden on him, taking
care to cover the cook’s mouth. He stood over him, his enraged face in discord
with the sorrow in his heart that it had to come down to this. As the man was
punching and throwing his feet everywhere, fighting back with everything that
he had, Aidan wanted to stop, but it he had gone too far, there was no coming
back, it was time for full commitment. He managed to inflict damage to Aidan’s
back with his knees and when he got to close, scratched him over the face. The
tunic generally protected Aidan from that kind of attacks. He only had to endure
less and less powerful, controlled or coordinated punches and slaps to his arms
and chest as he pushed with his own weight on Wali’s neck and chest. In his
desperation, the cook tried to bite Aidan’s right hand, that kept his screams
silent, and he succeeded in leaving a deep march on it. It was too late though,
and Aidan took the bite without stopping applying pressure on the neck. Once
Wali stopped fighting back, Aidan ceased the strangulation immediately and
checked to see if he was breathing.
“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed when he realised Wali was not breathing, so he
started doing CPR on him, including both the 100-120 compressions a minute
intertwined with two rescue breaths after 30 compressions. In two minutes,
Wali coughed and faintly wailed on the floor. That’s when Aidan took Wali’s
shirt to tie his mouth with, and dragged him to the storage room. Checking his
pockets, he found some keys and tried all three of them, until he found the one
that locked Wali in the storage room.
Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, the sweaty face, and he looked
at his right palm. It didn’t hurt, but it had two spots where it was slightly
bleeding. Aidan realised he could not calm down, otherwise the pain from the
wounds would not allow him to fight anymore. He took a frying pan and hid it
under the tunic. He then headed for the floor where his room was and started
slowly opening every door in search for the two sleeping men. He did pretty
much the same for both of them. A strong hit on the forehead with the pan and
then took the pillow from underneath their head and sat on their chest,
strangulating them with the pillows until they stopped fighting. This worked
flawlessly for the weaker man, but he had more problems with Hula. He
pretended to stop fighting, so when Aidan took off the pillow, Hula grabbed
him by the tunic and dragged him straight into his punch. Fortunately for Aidan,
the frying pan was still within reach, and he managed to hit his head without
actually seeing the target, being too dizzy to see straight. It was a lucky shot in
the dark, but it worked. Hula’s head wasn’t made from stone, so he was
stunned. Another three weaker hits followed in quick succession, and that made
his pass out eventually.
He also used whatever clothes he could find in the closet to tie him up
and raided his pockets and drawers until he found the key to the room and
locked him in the new cell. It gave him a weird satisfaction to rotate the key. It
reminded him of the first night, when he was locked in a room just like this.
“How about a taste of your own medicine, cunts?! You locked me, you
locked the captain to take over the ship… well, the wheel turns, and hits you
harder than you could even imagine! You get what you fucking deserve! I’ve
had enough of you! You made me think that I was powerless, that I could not
fight for myself, now suck my cock! Who’s laughing now? Huh?! Me! It’s
fucking me! I’m going… I’m going to… I don’t know, but I’m going to
nowhere, not you taking me to nowhere! It doesn’t matter where I’m going, it
matters how I get there!”
Next up on his list was the man that was now guarding the prisoners. He
planned to use the fact that the only way to get there was through one corridor.
He wanted to play the victim, so he went down the stairs and intentionally fell
in play view of Jola, begging for help. He took a knife out of a pocket and kept
imitating some sounds that were supposed to ask ‘what?’ in poor Lavonian.
Aidan got up and rested himself against the wall, wailing in pain, but
careful to not show the frying pan he kept hidden around the corner. His
scratched, punched face and bleeding palm helped to create the image of a
terrorized man. When Jola got close enough, Aidan swung his left hand and the
pan straight at his head. Jola’s reflexes were cat-like, so he deflected the hit
from the wide side of the pan with his knife. Still, the unexpected power of the
strike forced him to take some steps backwards to avoid falling on his back.
While he regained equilibrium, Aidan was not wasting precious time. He
stopped the bounce of the swing and made his comeback, reorienting the strike
to Jola’s ribs using the edges of the pan. Having had to land the hit with his left
arm though, it didn’t stunt Jola properly and he got to stab Aidan twice in his
left arm, stabbing as fast as he could while both of the yelled their battle cries.
The lightning strike of pain from the knife made him drop the pan, but he
managed to catch it mid-air with his right. In doing so, he exposed his back and
Jola took the opportunity to stab him in the shoulder blade area. Of course, he
was aiming for the spine or at least the spaces in between the ribs, but Aidan’s
restlessness saved him and the point of the knife only scratched his scapula
bone. The instrument got stuck there in the flesh and fabric of the tunic, and
Aidan used a burst of energy to thrust the edge of the pan in Jola’s face. This
move forced his to let of the knife and he caught Aidan’s arm before the hit
could deliver all it’s might, so he was not knocked out right then and there.
Instead, he head-butted Aidan’s face with the effect of him dropping the pan
and his nose started bleeding. In desperation, Aidan did the next thing he could
try to do and kicked Jola in the groins as hard as his knees allowed him, and in
the second of vulnerability threw himself and all his weight on his enemy. This
didn’t have the intended effect of him falling over, instead it threw Jola into the
nearest wall and Aidan bit on Jola’s cheeks and in return he was slapped with
the force of a hurricane. Jola was crying over his cheek and Aidan rammed
himself into him multiple times, forcing Jola to with his head against the metal
steel violently multiple times. Like a rabid dog, Aidan couldn’t wait for his
enemy to get one second of rest, so he attempted to catch Jola’s head in a hook
punch, but the man successfully defended himself with his hands, holding onto
his own fighter spirit. Aidan relentlessly delivered hits, some attempting to hit
the head, others the balls, but the most success he found in the sides of the
abdomen, which could not be defended by the arms while defending his head.
Neither could he protect those with his knees, which now became his main
weapon, trying and succeeding to hit Aidan multiple times in the stomach and
his own groins. Still, the one that had to endure more was Jola. With limited
energy left, Aidan ceased for a few seconds and looked back, searching for his
frying pan. He saw that right next to it was the knife, which he didn’t notice had
fallen out of him. He grabbed the pan and Jola saw the opportune window to
strike, only because of his confused, dizzy and rotating vision, his punch landed
on Aidan neck, who instinctively fought back by thrusting the edge of the frying
pan as hard as he could into Jola’s diaphragm. It was a purely luck shot, vaguely
aimed at. He didn’t have time to see what he had done. All he saw was that Jola
stopped to take a breath and had one of his hand on his chest, so he landed the
finishing blow, with the wide side of the frying pan over the temporal side of
Jola’s skull. He fell on the floor, and the fight ended. He could finally take a
breath and rest without the fear of dying.
He checked Jola’s pulse and breath. Upon seeing that he was still alive,
he calmed down enough to hear nothing. And it scared him. It was the same
sound as before. It screamed at him that the world didn’t care who won. The
same sound of distant waves as before the fight, the same sound afterwards.
This was a life for life or death, a challenge that proved to be larger than life for
Aidan, and the world… didn’t care. It was silent, but before… before there were
screams, cries, groans of pain and screeches of agony. Only now it came to him
just how loud the fight had been. He then got to tying the man with his bloody
shirt, a standard practice at that point. Then he looked at his own bleeding
wounds. The pain didn’t kick in yet, but once it did it would become
Doomsland on earth. He bleeding on his back was stopped by the blood clotting
around the wound and gluing his tunic on the wound, but he had to improvise a
bandage out of his own sleeves and tying it around. Out of his other sleeve he
made bandages for his head and cleaned his bloody face from the blood that
poured out of his nose. He knew he couldn’t take one more fight like this. While
he bandaged himself, the wardrobe spoke to him again, asking alternatively in
Lavonian and Miqhun what was going on. Aidan wished he could open it and
set them free, but he didn’t trust them enough. They turned on their captain
once, they could do it again. He looked at the wardrobe and at the stains of
blood on the floor and on the walls, forming a weirdly written history of the
encounter. He found it disturbing… yet at the same time, he was not repulsed.
He was more saddened by the fact he could not set the captain free because of a
few traitors. How a good apple can be lost in a sack of spoiled ones. He related
to that, and now understood why so many people were opposed to, for example,
the Hakdan protesters. He was in the place on the ones that could change the
world, and chose to take care of himself over them. It was something organic,
the government was behaving like a living being. And everything that can die
will do it at some point.
“They are afraid… like I’m afraid… But their fear… Is it rational? Would
the world end if they gave in to the Hakdans? Maybe the world no, but their
world certainly. If I open the door, the world won’t end. The same waves that
played in the background before my fight, they play and will play if let them go.
The world won’t end, but my world… could. My world is changing right now,
but I am doing the change. I am in control. I am fighting…” he meditated,
listening to the door. “But the government is wrong. This is wrong. Having to
be here is wrong. Taking over the Miqhuns is wrong. I am doing it only because
they threaten my world, but they don’t threaten their world… Or do they?”
He woke up from his meditation by reminding himself that the job was
not over. He was in too deep to turn back, so he checked Jola for keys and
found nothing on him. He decided to take him to his room and lock him there,
but he changed his mind when he heard someone coming closer and saying
some things in Miqhun. He took the knife and hid around a corner next to the
body and the wardrobe.
Ynutu frozen in place when he saw there was no-one guarding, but there
was blood on the walls and floor, with the body of his colleague in the middle
of it. He ran towards him to check on him, but a sudden pain threw him into the
darkness behind his eyelids before he could react, or even see who did it.
“This one was a clean one. This guy is going to return sooner, I’ll lock
both of them in my room.” he thought.
He found his way through the flights of stairs while fighting off an
accelerating vertigo effect, his feet spinning mildly at a somewhat slower rate
than the walls around him. He also had to carry bodies and furniture to reinforce
the locked metallic doors while enduring pain in slowly rising doses. It took him
a while, but he also moved the cook in a room at the same floor as the rest of the
guys. It just costed an amount of blood he never lost before at once and the
reopening of some wounds. This tired him beyond any good measure, but he
new there were supposed to be at least six guys, and he only had five. The
bridge was empty, and the guy must’ve not heard the battle. He could be below
the deck, checking the engines, or maybe outside somewhere. In either case, he
waited for the man to come and get lunch in the dinning room, where he would
ambush him. He was struggling to stay awake. Without the willpower to stay
up, the pain from his injuries was like a constant alarm clock, poking him with a
spike of nervous signals each time he began fading away. In such a deplorable
state the Engine Officer found him first. A last surge in adrenaline gave him the
force to endure the pain and tiredness. Pointing his knife at the man, who was
holding his arms above his head, he proposed,
“You are all alone. Everyone else is gone. Just the two of us. Now, we
can do it the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours…!” and Aidan put a
psychotic smile on his face for dramatic effect.
The man didn’t understand much and got on his knees, begging for his
life with the little he could express,
“Nay, I nay, pliz nay dot, pliz nay dot it! Nay, I nay dot any! Mercy! I
family heve, pliz, I nay war man…” he cried, intimidated to surrender by the
sight of the bloody and bandaged man holding a redded knife and frying pan.
“Huh… If only your friends were a little easier to convince.” Aidan
thought, and then demanded his PTV and the keys to his room, to which he was
escorted at knife point. He locked him inside and blocked the door with a desk
from a yet undisturbed room. Now that everyone was at their place, Aidan went
into a remaining room and slept, disregarding the blood stains he was leaving on
the bed. He learned to live with the pain and now embraced it, the exhaustion
sending him to a nightmare where he was endlessly fighting with Jola.
He only woke up to a spinning world of confusion the next morning to
the screams of one of the guys he fought off.
“NOO! You can’t do this! You weren’t supposed to do that! Are you
trying to doom us all? You can’t operate this shit on your own! You trynna
murder us?! What the fuck?! How did you do that!? How did you hide that?! I
am a master judge of character! I manipulated every single one, I did all the
work! I took over the ship, for Ikuat’s sake! You can’t do this! You can’t just
shit on my work! You’re a sheep! You’re a depressed, empty piece of shit!
You’re not a fighter, how did you do it?! How did you fool me! You didn’t, I
was dumb enough to listen to anyone but myself! Hula will look over you,
yeah, sure! Motherfucker! Fish-hearted faggot! What did you do!?” Jola was
yelling to the misery of Ynutu’s ears. He also did it for myself only too, as
Aidan couldn’t hear him, and eventually when he did answer, he just told him to
shut up.
Jola was going apeshit on the door, hurting his own hands by slamming
his fists into the hands against it. The incoherent a-musical tone-deaf drumming
sound was reflecting his own internal state.
“Calm down, man! You know we can’t get out. We locked around ten
guys in the same room and they couldn’t get out. Just except that we got fucked
over… I’m more worried of the fact he didn’t give us any food in these room.”
Ynutu tried to calm him down. He was much more contempt with the situation.
“What did you say?! How dare you!” Jola redirected his rage at him,
jumping at his throat, “Say that again! I dare you! Say it! I should calm down,
heh? I should calm down and let that nobody, someone we should have killed at
first contact, I should stay calm while he’s raping our asses?! Can’t you see, that
I had all the answers?! We could have used him to end the Lavonians! To
infiltrate their ranks, to break them from the inside! We could’ve been free! We
could’ve slept without fucking Wushons and Wergethories with their guns and
hammers at hour heads! We could’ve been the masters of this land! We
could’ve… we could’ve been free!” and with that he let go of Ynutu’s throat.
A tear started forming and it slid on his cheek, only to be followed by
another one and another one,
“I did all I could for our people! I betrayed my captain! I played whatever
I needed to play! I lied and I was willing to risk everything! Risk my life, risk
yours, everything, everything, to get rid of the Lavonians! To start a war
between them and the Dead Islands! All I did, I wanted my people to be free! I
wanted us to be free, even if it meant dying! I don’t want to be afraid no more! I
don’t want soldiers knocking at my door! I don’t want to face pirate Dead
Islanders and die to get these trash, useless, inferior human beings to their own
doom! I don’t want to be a pawn, that’s not me! I am not a pawn! And he
fucked it up! I can’t let it slip from my hands! I can’t! The solution was always
just out of reach, until now! We could’ve done it! Bur he took all I worked for,
and he’s going to shit on it! I can’t let this escape me! I would’ve died for…
Wait…” Jolaqik had a revelation, the enthusiasm in his eyes scaring Ynutu, who
came to realise the worst part of this was being locked with a madman that had
homicidal tendencies.
“That’s it! That’s it! I can stop him! I can’t use him… but I can stop it! I
can avenge our people! I can avenge this failure! Avenge our people’s betrayal!
I can fuck him over worse than he fucked us over!” and Jola looked around the
room for a certain object. In the end, he took hold on a pencil someone left in
the drawer.
“With this… I will save the world!” and he began stabbing his own bare
stomach with the instrument. He could only get three stabs before the pencil
broke inside of him and Ynutu stopped him.
“What the fuck are you doing?! No, don’t you… don’t you fucking die!”
Jola was in too bad of a shape to oppose Ynutu’s medical help, which
consisted in little more than stopping the bleeding, without pulling out the
fragment left in him.
“I’ll be the hero we all need… I’ll save the world…” he mumbled as he
was losing blood.
“Well… This ‘hero’ will not die too soon. I doubt you actually touched
something important.” Ynutu analysed the puncture wounds.
“You cannot stop the inevitable!” he whispered.
“And you are just a scared, desperate kid. You’ve always been, didn’t
you? Always had a goal out of reach, didn’t you?” Ynutu soothed him,
caressing his forehead.
Aidan ate some biscuits he found in the storage room and headed to the
bridge with a pack in hand.
“Alright… So, course should be set for the Kingdom of the Dead Islands.
In that case I will not steer the helm. It’s a nice lil’ wheel, reminds me of cars.
But that… That worries me.”
Looking out through window, he saw that the metal was covered in many
places by a thin layer of ice. The water was also of a darker blue colour. He
tried going outside on the balcony, but regretted due to the frigid weather
outside. He tried to explain it to himself,
“I guess we covered some surface yesterday… Very good! I guess this
must be the Whale Belt Current, the cold water and air current that surrounds
the Icetowers… I’m more of a fan of the Coral Current that gives Nan Hay such
a pleasant weather, but I guess this will do to. I… I’ll just stay here in case I
have to steer away from an iceberg. Let fate take me wherever! I should also
call Ira and tell her I’m not coming… but I’ll wait for a storm to do that.”
 Aidan stood there for most of the rest of the day with nothing better to do
than think. In vain he tried to think of something nice. When there was silence,
it’s contrast from the usual reminded him of what he had done. And when there
was not silence, usually it he could hear the faded screams of one of his own
prisoners. He could not run from what he had done.
“What was I thinking? What was on my mind?!” he became disgusted
with myself as he said on a chair in the bridge. “What was this? Action for the
sake of action? I… I had no plan. I just saw that I could do it, but I didn’t ask
myself enough times if I should do it! Like… I don’t know how this thing
works! How will I stop this ship? How do I know I am on course? There is a
digital map over there, but it says there is no signal! What was the point of
this!?” he started eating faster from the pack of biscuits and shaking his leg
nervously, “I was going to end up the same, best case scenario at the Dead
Islands, worst case… the ship sinks and I drown or freeze to death! I just tilted
the balance in favour of the latter, and for what? Because I… I just wanted some
direction… I wanted to be adrift on my raft, not on somebody else’s! What is
the point of that? It’s irrelevant, it achieves nothing! I exchanged the goodwill
of my capturers for… a sense of… power, for the feeling of temporary
dominance, that I could sway the odds in my favour! An illusion of control, a
delusion of assertion of my will on my destiny! I… I was fooled by myself!
Aidan, this shouldn’t have happened! What have you done?! You’ve made
enemies out of allies, you sentenced yourself to… you truly put yourself in the
hands of fate! In the hands of chance! In the hands of the uncaring, indifferent
Universe! Look outside! Those waves that you handed your life to… They don’t
care, it doesn’t matter to them if you live or die! The people you beat up and
drew the blood of… they do care! Or at least, they did… The captain would still
care, but the others locked there… If they didn’t mistrust you before, they
would now, seeing what you can do! How could I do this?! I am capable of this!
This isn’t me! Aidan, this isn’t you! Who are you?! You’re a monster, a traitor!”
Aidan stood up and walked across the bridge in front of the unknown
buttons and levels that controlled the ship, the foggy white light creating a
dream-like atmosphere in the steel cage. He was walking back and forth,
thinking about what he should do next,
“Everything is meaningless! I am meaningless, and I tried to put some
meaning into my life by taking the meaning others gave me and replacing it
with nothing but abandonment! It’s… it’s like the self-destructive engine, a
circular logic feeding a cycle of self-destruction! I have to correct myself! I
have to make things better! They are humans, living people just like me… I
didn’t even lock them in with food! Water they can get from the sink in the
bathrooms… I might also bring them some things to disinfect their wounds. I
should also do that, maybe change this tunic and put on some clothes from a
room. But where are the med-kits? I guess the liquor in the storage room will
have to do...”
He went into the kitchen, hurting at every hasty move or mild shock
going through his body, like when descending the stairs. He took off his tunic
and used some rags he found there to apply pressure on the agonizingly burning
alcohol on his injuries. After finishing the terrorizing alcohol shower, he went
into a room and looked around the closet. He found some basic clothes, a
sweater and thick jeans. They were a bit too big for him, but the baggy feeling
didn’t matter much, as it almost felt like a tunic.
He spent a few hours going up and down the floors of the accommodation
in search for the med-kits and eventually found a stash of them hidden in the
storage room, for whatever reason. This, and he looked for what food he could
bring them at night. He found more biscuits, but he took them for himself and
preparer for them all kinds of cans. Beans, tuna, pork, and a few others. He
could not find plastic utensils, but he decided he would give them spoons
nonetheless. If they really wanted to arm themselves, they could certainly find
something more effective than a spoon in their rooms.
As such, the day passed and in the middle of the night Aidan successfully
caught them all asleep and he silently put down the rations prepared for them in
front of the door.
The following morning, he was awoken not by the desperate screams of
the prisoners, but by a thundering crash sound that shook from everywhere. It
was like waking up in the midst of an earthquake, except with the addition of an
unmistaken monstrous ominous noise of cracking ice and scratched metal.
Aidan’s injuries spiked in pain from the vibrations and he fell over, unable to
push himself up until it all stopped. Now there was only the engine’s roar, and
Aidan panicked,
“Shit! Where are the waves?!” and before putting his clothes on, he ran
for the bridge, where he was unpleasantly surprised to not be able to see
anything, due to a blinding blizzard.
 Chapter 18: Always a bigger fish

Ira was left on the roof until someone complained about the aluminium
case and the one made to clean it was curious enough to look inside and saw the
broken piece of rusty metal. She immediately called the other butlers, realising
it was someone’s Artefact. That’s when somebody noticed Neka’s absence, and
upon looking further into it, they realised nobody had heard of him for quite
some time. They researched his tower, besides the rest, trying to figure whose
Artefact it was and where was Neka, only to eventually find Ira unconscious on
the roof, the door to the helicopter still open. It was right above Neka’s tower,
and she was standing about around the place the case must have been dropped
from. They put two and two together and called an ambulance on her.
She woke up in the comfort of a hospital room, with her head bandaged
and a perfusion in her arm. She was dizzy, but remembered what she had done
and knew exactly how to play the incident.
“W-what? Um… I’m here… My head hurts!” she whined in front of a
person she could not recognize looking over her.
“I know it must feel like that…” he said. “Sorry for first meeting each
other in any meaningful way in such… circumstances. My name is Yprud, your
new branch manager. Do you remember what happened? Why you are hear?”
“Let me think…” she pretended to have slight difficulties doing so, “I
returned home with the helicopter from a meeting with Househead Heriotza…
and we landed…and… I think I stumbled when I got out of it. I hit my head
really bad, didn’t I?” she asked.
“Well… It’s not pretty, but… did you do anything with a metallic case?”
he inquired, frowning his forehead.
“Metallic case? No… I think Neka asked me to take bring his Artefact
downstairs and he… Was it in a box? I think it was in a box, sirrah Heriotza
gave it as a gift when we returned and he was happy about that!” she replied,
playing the role of the unaware child to perfection.
“I understand… So, you had it in hand when you stumbled?” the man
asked again, just to be sure.
“Yeah, I guess so, I think I had it… I mean I should’ve… Why are you
asking again? Do I not speak clearly, I think I do, but I might not realise with…
this headache!” she whined again, overplaying the pain she was going through,
even though there was a genuine pain to speak of.
“Are you ready to receive some unfortunate news?” she was asked.
“What do you mean? What happened?” she asked with distress on her
face, pretending not to connect the dots.
“First of all, I am not your new branch manager. My name is Robert
Frunckfiled, I am an investigator at Centre 6 Police Department. I am
investigating the second death of Nekatuta Freedomfighter. His Artefact was
found this afternoon smashed to pieces in a metallic box that had obvious signs
of having fallen off a great height. You, are the primary suspect, but from what I
can gather so far, his death seems to have been an accident. This conversation
was recorded and future inquiries may be made by other investigators. You are
not placed under arrest and may continue recovering from your injury.” He man
revealed his true identity and gave her an update.
The surprise in her eyes was directed at the identity reveal, not at the
murder, but the investigator could not see the difference.
“What? What did I do…? but… I didn’t…! I didn’t want to! I didn’t do it
on purpose! No, no way! No way Neka’s gone, not my Neka!” she started
tearing up and sobbing there, but she then complained of headaches again, and
her crying session was cut short by spikes of pain caused by stress.
The policeman left without any further notice and she got back to
sleeping on the comfortable bed, calming down her tears and congratulating
herself on her acting, without sketching a smile on her face.
The following days she was released from the hospital and allowed to
return home. Another butler was to drive her home, one who now had to take
care of two towers until a replacement would be found. But that would come
later. For the moment, she was to be taken to the police station in order to take a
polygraph test.
She was met by a mostly deserted, quiet police station, and she figured
that most likely some of the staff had been required to take control over the
protests at Centre 1.
“This makes sense… I mean, nobody stopped me when I was driving like
crazy through the Centres, they must be severely understaffed. Only the
cameras detected me and send the fines… How funny!” she kept a smile to
herself, acting stressed and anxious on the outside as she and the new caretaker
were directed towards the interrogation room.
 The room’s ceiling was low and it lacked in details and decorations. The
walls were a blank bluish white and the floor was grey, without a carpet. The
lights were powerful white, and at the simple fir table in the centre of it all was
an officer with an ACU. There were all sorts of cables all over the table
radiating from it. The policeman helped her put on the different sensors needed
to measure her nervous reactions. Two rubber tubes were placed around her
chest and abdomen in order to measure her breaths. Then a blood-pressure cuff
was tied around her upper to measure the blood pressure and heartbeat rates.
The last sensors she was hooked up to were two galvanic skin resistance
measuring straps on the fingertips of her index and ring fingers on the left arm.
When the examination began, she made sure to stress herself at every
control question she could in order to create an artificial spike in her
physiological responses. It helped to bite her tongue hard and focus on the pain,
though this method could not be overused, as it would have been obvious in her
speech something was off. She thought about other enraging things, like
Heriotza’s smug face and condescending laughter. Other times, for good
measure, she switched to thinking about genuinely distressing matters. She
pictured Aidan calling her on that night and the promises he made that he would
return. She remembered her first wedding, when she refused to dance with her
would-be husband and ran away. Or she thought about the insecurity of her
future, not knowing what was going to happen to her for sure. The lack of
control scared her, and it did the job just right.
These control questions were the ones the test started with, but as the
examination progressed, they got rarer and were intermingled with relevant
questions. Of this type, she knew there would be questions that pertained to the
point of the interrogations and others that were supposed to cause a
physiological response similar to it by means of being taboo. Questions like
‘Have you ever disrespected a Househead?’, ‘Did you ever physically abuse a
living person?’, ‘Have you stolen anything as a child?’ or ‘Do you think often
about your beauty?’. To questions like these she told the truth, for example
saying ‘yes’ to all of the above besides the last question. To calm herself, she
thought about pleasant things, like laying on the beach, taking a swim, going to
a massage at the spa or even dancing and smoking at a Gathering or watching
Dalnon’s Real House with Aidan.
She entered a state of perpetually being relaxed and telling the truth
without as much of a second thought, a spark of hesitation, and every now and
then, an actual relevant question would come up, relating to the ‘accident’. In
this relaxed state, she didn’t flinch to say ‘No’ at questions like ‘Did you
purposefully throw Nekatuta’s Artefact?’. When she heard those questions, the
state of inner peace did not fluctuate. It stayed straight as a ruler. She
reimagined the scene, she saw Neka running for his life, she saw him on his
knees pleading for his life… And it felt relaxing. It felt good. It was not an
accident, it was not murder, to her; it was… settling an old debt. It was paying
the man what he was due. It was justice. Revenge ran in the tracks of
righteousness. There was no separation between the too. She thought as she
replied ‘Nay’ of her entire answer, ‘Nay, I dropped the case on purpose, there’s
a difference.’ There was no regret, and no looking back. It was only a calm
sensation of bliss and fulfilment, a lower heart rate, less sweaty fingers, and
slow, deep breaths. By staying calm, she passed the test.
“Alright, thank thee fo’ answering the questions! I am pleased
t’announceth thee o’ the passing o’ the examination!” the officer congratulated
her, unknowingly, on the quality of her lies and lack of remorse for the crime.
“We started a bit nervously, did we not, but once the real questions kicked in I
seeth thee hast calmed at the observation o’ the nature o’ the inquiries.”
“Indeed…” Ira responded, and came with a question for the officer,
returning to the sad and remorseful attitude she thought person that caused such
an accident should. “Sirrah, thy face is familiar. Have I seen thee fore this
encounter, by any chance?” she asked out of curiosity.
“I hopeth not… My regular position is to be a traffic control patrol. I took
a quick course in the uses o’ this machinery from an actual forensic
psychoanalyst. The usual Master o’ Interrogation was called t’attend duty
elsewhere.” the officer explained as he took off the sensors around Ira.
“Responsible and honourable worker!” Ira said out loud while thinking
something entirely different, “Aha! I shouldn’t even have tried that hard! If I
had kept perfectly calm for the entire test, I bet this man wouldn’t have seen
anything suspicious. Without someone capable of judging people’s character,
that shit is a toy, might as well toss a coin to see if I’m lying… I’m not falling
for their psychological games! Those sensors could indicate anything, they
measure sweat and pulse, not lies…”
She was taken back to her apartment, where she decided she had had
enough of the everybody’s crap for that day. Luckily, she still had some pills
from Igon, and she took two of them to put her to sleep, in a dream where she
threw Neka and Heriotza into the sea from the ship Aidan was on, and then they
ran off together to Nan Hay and never looked back.
 The next morning when she woke up, after pressing the button and doing
her morning routine, by the time she got downstairs no breakfast was ready. She
could only hear the distant noise of Itzal preparing something, but she knew he
was just cooking in advance for Zuzen. Despite this, she entered the kitchen and
kindly asked him if he could prepare something for her.
“This smells really nice! Could you make a little more for me too?” she
asked jovially like a child asking for grandma’s food.
“There’s yesterday’s pasta with small cubes of porkchops, held together
by molten Compte Cheese. Master Zuzen wasn’t contempt with the consistency
of the meal, so there is a leftover dish there.” Itzal replied quickly, but bored,
minding his own business and not acknowledging her presence as she made her
way to the fridge in the fumes of boiling shrimp.
“But this looks delicious! I am so sorry for you…” she tried to show
some compassion to him, but to her surprise this was not taken in goodwill.
“Oh, sure, you do…” he threw a sarcastic remark, after which he
continued, “Now get out of my kitchen. Go to the smaller one to warm the food,
don’t use my microwave.”
Taken aback his behaviour, she went to the door with her plate.
“Why did you say it like that? You could’ve asked nicely, not that I’m
going to file a complaint or anything.” she asked for explanations.
“If thou’s majesty’s sorrowful thoughts could help me in the kitchen as
my colleague did, I’d be very grateful! Now leave!” he said raising his tone.
Ira initially dismissed his sarcasm as just signs of his stress. After all,
Neka was his helper and made his life easier. Itzal must’ve been especially
affected by this loss.
As she sat quietly at the same table Aidan had cooked for her when he
first came over, a realisation dawned on her, growing like an ominous cloak of
darkness from behind her, its cold touch sliding gently yet at the same time
menacingly down her arms and abdomen.
“Seagles!” she thought as she took a bite from somebody else’s meal. The
undesired food of someone else. Somebody else’s trash. “What now? W-what?
What can I do? Soon I’ll be called or send some mail saying the trial will begin!
What then? I could ask-” and the wave of darkness that was looming over her
collapsed over her, “I could ask… Nobody. Aidan’s gone, Agure’s gone, so…
he must’ve not been part of this ideology… Neka…He… he never was, never
cared beyond his interest in being one of those hypocritical control-freaks! I
thought I had him, but I never did… I cannot trust any other butler, and the new
branch manager doesn’t give two shits! He wanted to marry me to Arantzuza
and didn’t care to check on me while I was in hospital… I have… nobody.” She
came to realise, but immediately tried to contradict herself in order to regain a
sense of control over her situation,
“I can always rely on… Zuzen? He’s never been a decent guy to me since
he was 25! And lil’ Igo… He’s Igo, he’s useless! Uh… Let me think, there’s…
mom and dad! Yeah, they… I should be able to talk to them about…” and she
stopped herself, not wanting to ruin her mood even further, for deep down she
knew her chances of finding consolation there were limited.
She focused on eating and then decided it was best to keep her mind off
the troubles facing her, but in a heathier way than going to Igon to ask for some
harder pills or syringes. She concluded that jogging around the towers was a
good start, so she headed back to her apartment and put on some sporty clothes,
trying her best to not look at Aidan’s clothing for fear of digging memories that
would bring her down.
The reminders of her actions followed her. She could not escape them,
not even outside. She was jogging around the towers when she passed by a
couple of people taking a casual walk or going somewhere. The looks she got
from them were spiteful and in a few cases she felt threatened. Other times, it
was the opposite, and people looked at her with an unhealthy mix of awe and
fear. This made her suspect that word got out and maybe some rumours got out
of control. She didn’t care about their opinion too much, but she had to take
action once she made one lapse and at the second encounter with some people,
she received degrading comments, many calling her out like,
“Hey, Hada, wa’cha been upto?”
It defied the whole point of taking a break and enjoying herself to have
people call her out and compare her with Hada, Lanavo’s brother. According to
the mythos, he was the one to kill Narseon for the second time when he
announced that the whole of the promised country would be inherited by
Lanavo. With Narseon assassinated, he was free to go with his followers to the
south of Nephtar and make his own country. This insult convinced Ira that
rumours had it that she was responsible for Neka’s death. This wasn’t
surprising, gossip spreads like wildfire among people that have nothing better to
do or that just enjoy the thrill of a drama. And what is more thrilling than a
murder mystery in your backyard? One would not let something as trivial as
proof and facts stand in the way of a dopamine fix, isn’t that right?
“Of course, it is! Bastards with too much spare t-” she stopped herself,
the words she was about to think striking a sensible chord, “I mean, bastards
addicted to drama and a perpetual cycle of gossip that makes their perfect, bland
lives more interesting!” and then self-awareness took its turn to wake her up,
“Doomsland… I sound like angry Aidan… What the fuck… People can gossip,
it’s none of my business…” she tried to argue but then someone spit in her
direction as she ran past them.
“But this, this is too much! This is infringing on my right to enjoy a good
morning’s jog!” she thought and decided to stop the next cousin she was more
acquainted with and ask them what was being said.
She wanted to stop a man, but he started to distance himself and then ran
away, without saying a word. Left to look at him continue his way undisturbed;
she was amazed by his insensibility and was pondering on what was actually
being said.
Of course, every broken clock is right twice a day, because she was a
murderer at the end of the day, but they were treating someone that could very
well be innocent like the scum of the earth. Sure, Tunics often received worse
comments at Gatherings while serving, but those were Tunics! Their time at
happiness was up, while she was in the middle of it! They were stealing a
limited sense of joy she would eventually never feel the same way.
Luck was on her side next time, and she successfully managed to engage
in a conversation with another cousin. After brief small talk, Ira got to the point.
“So, I haveth receiveth a plethora o’ comments and remarks on mine own
name, and it left me dumbfounded fo’ I can not comprehendeth the reasoning
behind such allegations. I am merely trying t’recovereth and exercise t’keepeth
mine own self in shipshape, trim and neat, honest and truthful!” she played the
oblivious, but not obnoxious, fool.
“Ah… I must confesseth forehandly that I doth not believe in such
baseless assumption, such guilt ‘fore the demonstration o’ innonce, fo’ I
considereth mine own self a man o’ culture, a freethinker and a good listener.”
he started, gesturing to the sky with his hands artistically.
“Yes, I am sure o’ th-” Ira tried to compliment his ego, but was cut short
by him speaking over her.
 “Once thee had been discovered in poor shape and physical condition, it
came as a logical conclusion when asked about the incident by prying, curious
and insensible eyes and mouths, that the metaphorical discoverers, explores and
adventures, put the puzzle pieces together and concluded a fight, a brawl, a
battle must have ensued thyne landing, a conflict o’ sorts which had as a
closure, a wind-up, to sum up, Nekatuta’s demise.”
Ira had enough of his presumption, puffed-up and pseudo-academical
speech and wanted to end the discussion, but as she opened her mouth to say
something, he resumed.
“O’course, it is t’be understood that naturally, I doth not trusteth such
biased, prone t’deceit personnel and I put my wholeheartedly believeth absolute
real educated opinion in the hands o’ the authorities, the competent police and
criminal investigations, in spite o’ what other barbaric incults critise me fo’, as I
have unfortunately come to notice. Mainly, that is, of prime relevance, the fact
that said authorities have not laid hand on the undisturbed crime or accident
scene. I seeth no way in which not having any witnesses and a destroyed scene
o’ the incident could lead their expertise t’be inconclusive!” he ranted with no
regard for Ira’s wish to speak.
“Does he hear himself? What he’s saying makes no sense, from several
points of view… My head hurts only to listen to this egoistic retard.” She
thought while he started ranting again. Ira had enough and just left in a similar
manner the first guy had left her. She didn’t want the benefit of the doubt from
such a nobody, someone incapable of intellectual work.
She went back inside, having been fed up with the closed-mindedness of
her distant family. It was impossible to take her mind off the problem if she was
constantly harassed because of it. Inside the tower, she had again limited
options, but decided she could check on her parents. Tired from jogging, she
took the elevator to their floor, only to find Igon passed on its floor. After a
detour to get him to his apartment, she knocked on their door. And her mom
answered, somewhat surprised by her showing up, but happy nonetheless.
“Irakasle! I doth not expected thy visage t’present itself at my door!” she
greeted her, and then invited her inside.
There she saw that there were some suitcases stocked on top of each
other, forming a genuine mountain as tall as a person, and her had was sitting
next to it.
“Honey, look who’s here!” her mom introduced her.
 “She ain’t no daughter of mine! Get her out of here!” he yelled and stood
up to impose some authority, but did not get violent.
“Oh, c’mon sweety, don’t be so dramatic!” her mom protested in her
favour, only for Ira to follow up with a demand for clarification of what was
going on there. “Thou seeth,” her mother explained, “thy father is full o’
disappointment, fo’ he heard the rumours o’ the Neka incident and took them at
face value and we disagree… so he decided to leave.”
“Don’t stop there and frame yourself as the good one here!” her father
instantly intervened to say his side “It was you who bugged me for the last two
months to leave, ‘cuz you felt it was time to ‘give each other some space’ and
start distancing for when we die! It was you who wanted to enjoy the last two
decades of your life away from me, and ‘rediscover yourself’, as you claim…”
he criticised her. “And I forgave your lack of empathy when you told me,
knowing all too well I still love you! And I still need you!”
“Oh, well then,” her mother entered in an argument with him,
disregarding Ira completely, “but what changed your mind?! Hmm? When
Artzal told you that she dropped Neka’s Artefact, that’s what changed your
mind? Why not wait to hear her side of the story? Why jump to conclusions? I
don’t care if she did it on purpose or not, but I’m thankful she pushed you over
the edge and now you’re leaving!”
“What did you just say? Have you forgot I’m moving one floor upstairs?
That’s it, I’m still here, but Neka… he won’t be! And you won’t be so happy
when you’ll have to explain everything to the new butler, because you forgot for
just how long he served, and knew you like the back of his hand! And why is he
gone? Because of this incompetent girl! What is there to question? It’s clear she
was careless, and because of it she killed someone! Such ineptness is not of my
blood! Us Freedomfighters are premeditative kin, but nobody knows who you
had her and Igon with! They’re nothing like their brother and sisters! If I squint
my eyes, they also have a different face complexion! I swear I love you, but
your Nottemberg blood is good for ‘nottem’! You can see it in her, always up to
some bullshit! Ran from her first wedding and finding the lowest, most
desperate man in the country to not marry her cousin! Now she killed someone!
She killed Neka out of negligence, out of recklessness, that’s no child o’ mine!”
Her mother replied to his ranting, but Ira didn’t stay to hear more of it and
headed out. A feeling long forgotten took roots in her heart. She remembered
how her parents also had such arguments over her hesitation to marry and,
eventually, over her refusal. The same feeling of every wall closing in on her
manifested itself now too. Back then, she knew the date of the wedding, she
knew the size of the box, but now her eyes were sown shut. There was nobody
who could tell when the trial would end and she would get kicked out. There
was no enemy she could fight, it was impossible to hurt an invisible spectre,
haunting and taunting her with every move and every interaction.
It was getting too much to deal with, she was in desperate need of a
break, so her next move was to burst into Igo’s room and find some stronger
substance she could use. When she entered though, she was surprised to find an
Igo unable to maintain enough balance to get off the floor, but conscious
enough to speak.
“Yo…Can you lend a hand? I-I can’t get up…” he murmured and was
promptly helped to lay down on the bed. Ira sat on the edge next to him and
Igon guessed correctly the reason she was there.
“I knew that’s what you wanted… By the way, thanks if you were the one
that took me here from Ykal’s…” he said, “I took some provisions, look in the
third drawer from the right.”
“What? You’re just gonna help me like that?” she was puzzled to see how
cooperative he was being.
“A help for a help, I might be a little high right now, but my moral
compass is still in place. I know you’re asking yourself now, ‘Wait, you got one
of those?’, to which I say, ‘Unfortunately, yes. If it weren’t for it, I wouldn’t
need my plan.’ Go take the pills and do whatever. I’ll just lay here… So nice…”
he closed his eyes.
“When did you last speak with somebody?” she asked, having a hunch
that brought her hope.
“I don’t know and I don’t care… Neka brough me a fresh supply a few
days ago, I’m not sure and I was almost perpetually unconscious since. Though
if you reminded me of the real world, I don’t remember the last time he brought
me food… He usually leaves it on the coffee table, is there food there?” he
asked, too lazy to move his head to look for himself.
Ira would not let this opportunity slip away. At first there was Agure’s
goodwill, and now there was Igo’s ignorance. She was a miner who just found
the most precious gem while the mine was crumbling all around her. She just
needed to protect it from the boulders falling off the ceiling and get out with it.
She would do everything in her power to keep him in the dark and maybe, just
maybe, for a moment, she could find someone that tolerated her presence.
 “Let’s make a deal. You don’t get out of this apartment and talk to
anyone and in exchange, all I will get you all the substances and food you like.”
she made an offer that was very on the nose with its fishiness.
“BEEP-BEEP-BEEEEEEEEP the bullshit meter is off the charts! Woo!
Look at it, it’s up to the moon! Woah, that’s so much bullshit… don’t you
think?” he laughed after he made rocket sounds and failed to clap because of a
lack of coordination.
“Look, I never bug you with revealing your ‘master plan’, so don’t ask
me about my ‘plan’… alright? Do we have a deal?” she persisted with the offer
and not took offense to the joke.
“Yo’ kiddin’? I get what I want without going downstairs! It’s… perfect!
I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but frankly… I don’t care! Deal!”
Ira spend the next few days in a similar fashion. She got breakfast and
dinner for Igon as he rarely was sober and hungry at lunch. She would also
drive to the pharmacy and buy what he ordered, as well as get some for herself.
If she knew Igo would be gone for a few hours, she even took the time to play
some games at the arcade with some strangers before returning. She would also
get calls from her legal representative to tell her how the trial was going. Then
she had the surprise of discovering she was only accused of manslaughter.
“Listen up, so, the charges are pretty serious, alright? Now, what I can
guarantee is that in no case will it be voluntary manslaughter. The polygraph
test and your testament, along with a healthy dose of common sense will make
that clear. They might investigate if the deceased had the right to fly a
helicopter, anything illegal. If they find that we died while you two were doing
something you weren’t supposed to be doing… then it’s involuntary
manslaughter, up to 15 years of prison. Everything you tell me will stay
confidential, so please tell me if you know that you were doing something like
that so we can cover it up somehow.” the representative told her at the first call.
“No, we just went to talk to Househead Heriotza and he had a license,
everything was going according to plan…” she confessed, that much being true.
“Good, good… Then your court-appointed lawyer will have an easier
time. You have a high chance of getting convicted for accidental homicide,
which is punishable by economic sanctions from the Househead, the most
severe of which can be disownment or exile. Why did you go to sirrah
Househead?”
 “Um…” she thought of an excuse off the top of her mind, the truth being
out of reach. “I think mister Heriotza would have it confidential, so you should
ask him. I can’t tell.”
The excuse proved to be good enough. What she actually figured out
from the conversation was the fact that she had been looking at pieces of a
puzzle, and now she could see the bigger picture.
“An aluminium, unpadded case, when the Artefact is a piece of rusted
iron? The lack of ‘offense infringing on dignity’ charges? If it would’ve been
murder, or manslaughter, I would’ve actually gotten away easier than if he
decided to disown me… Legally, he could chose to not give me gas for my car
for month, but he won’t do that, I know he’ll go the way he promised he
would… And he hated Neka for letting me find out these things… He lured him
into a sense of security towards the end when they cracked jokes at my
expanse… But what if I didn’t murder Neka? Then he’d still have the
recording…” and so, she could read the message the puzzle was hiding all
along, unveiling itself by terrifying her with the predictions, the cunningness
and the manipulations that were at play.
“Son of a bitch… he planned this from the beginning, the motherfucker…
No! I… I was not played like this… No, no, no! I… should fuck it all up,
confess that I murdered him… but that’s murder… and that’s life in prison,
which is hardly better, it can be worse, actually… Damn… But if I say that I
was drunk! That’s it! Involuntary manslaughter!”
The match of hope lit up the straw, but she discovered it was too wet to
catch fire and burn her way out of danger,
“They got the medical papers from the accident… only traces of Khala
were in my blood then, no way they’d classify that as involuntary
manslaughter…” she came to the grim reality.
Despite this, try she did and succeed she did not in her attempts to
incriminate herself in a way that would benefit her. She could hear the
Heriotza’s words, haunting her like ghosts of past mistakes, proof of her naivety
and predictability, of just how gullible she actually was, playing against herself
at the game of manipulation, and she unfortunately won. In a way she was
halfway right, but it mattered little.
“I’m a good judge of character. There is always a bigger fish. Except
me!”, those were the words she could not escape. They were everywhere. She
could not even escape by watching TV, were for two days she was in the
headlines for the accident. There was only one place to escape to, one place to
comfort her, that being herself. But not the usual self. A diluted self, someone
else entirely, someone blessed to not realise what was going on. Someone
emotionally paralyzed in a numb contempt plastic happiness. And she had
company. She’d often watch some movie with Igon while mildly high, and
laugh at it or watch in marvellous amazement the most basic of things. The
words were still there, no problem was being solved, but she could not hear the
ghosts. She could not be terrified by something she couldn’t see, feel, smell or
acknowledge the existence of.

Chapter 19: Clownland

The blizzard was still ongoing, blocking everyone’s view for a distance
of more than a few meters in front. The ship’s engine was still running, but
unbeknownst to anyone on board except the Tunics, it was stuck in an ice shelf.
There were now only a few meters from the deck to the surface, enough to hurt,
but more than survivable.
A thin black row of median length was approaching the ship, unscathed
by the wind, a persistent line walking steadily towards the Paul Bear. It was like
a snake, bravely sneaking upon a target so not self-aware that it didn’t need to
hide itself. It just went in a straight line until it hit the ship. In that moment, the
row seemed to disappear into the ship, passing through it like it was nothing.
That was not the case though. In fact, it accumulated, forming a black pool at
the base of the ship, and out of there a short black line rose up and escalated the
steel monster, until the whole pool dried out and the entire row was on board.
The Tunics on board were surprised by what they saw. There were about
three dozen people that just climbed on board on top of each other, all dressed
in thin black silk garments following perfectly the shape of their body. Except
the short sleeves, which left exposed to the blistering cold their clean-shaved
arms and legs. There was an exception, one of them was also wearing two
stripes of burgundy red along the sides of her body and looked to also wear a
kind of blood-red shirt underneath a silk dress that had diamond-shaped cuts
imprinted into it. That was topped by a clock of black of even darker leather,
that had sharpened shoulder plates, in a shape elongated to a spiky end, sticking
outwardly with about 5 centimetres from the rest of her figure.
The Tunics on board were baffled and were discussion amongst each
other on the nature of the visitors,
 “I’ve never seen something like this! Do you think they are from the
Rhovnian Empire?” one asked,
“I don’t know… but there isn’t supposed to be ice there, I don’t think
we’re there… Maybe they’re some fashion gang from Soulin!” the other one
replied, perplexed yet mesmerized.
The chitchatting was brought to an abrupt end when the one with the
most elaborate clothing yelled over them in a perfectly colloquial Lavonian,
“Sharap! Everybody, listen up! I demand silence from you!” she shouted,
raising her hand above her hand and stepping forward with one foot.
The crowd was petrified by her language, and the sound of the soulless
blizzard reigned supreme again. She stopped referring to them, and instead
turned herself towards two of the people that came with her,
“Cass, Blondie and Joe, you stay here and organize them for the speech.
Make sure they are silent. Y’know, answer no questions, yada yada yada. Me
and the rest are going inside to assess the situation.”
While the three left behind were organizing the crowd into rows, the rest
stormed in the accommodation section, only to find it deserted. There was no-
one in the halls, or the dining room. The leader along was going with two others
to the bridge, where they found no-one again, until they found Aidan hiding
underneath a control panel, shivering in fear.
“Hoaw! Taeke it eazzy lil’ boi o’ ya’ might just do an oopsie on yo’self!”
the leader mocked him as she kicked him in the stomach with her foot.
“Please don’t kill me!” Aidan pleaded, which in turn made the leader
raise her hand to stop any action from her companions,
“Ey, if it ain’t one o’ those continentals! If I be taeking a betta look a’chu,
those clothes ain’t fittin’ ya the best, naow, are they?! A… second look, I see!
Boys and gals, sirs and madams, we have a breathing one on our hands! Naow,
ain’t that fate o’ blind luck, then I don know want it be! Ben, look around this
place fo’ some clothes, we need this one out of the freezer!” she ordered to the
one on her right, who went left the bridge right away.
The other follower took him from under the table, and Aidan did little to
resist. If the clothing didn’t betray them, the cold touch made it all to clear for
him he was talking with Tunics.
 “You… you speak Lavonian… A-are you a northerner? From Milvan?
What… what are you doing here?! Where am I?” Aidan asked in a stuttering
manner.
“Fancy a big mouth, now, do you?” the one holding his hands tied behind
his back asked rhetorically.
“Aye, he be. And you be careful, Micky, we need his sorry ass alive.
These fuckers don’t just bring a living one for no reason. He be valuable!” the
leadered emphasized her point, to which Aidan tried to explain himself,
“I- I can explain… I am not with the crew… I- I beat them up, I’m not
with them! Who ar-” and he was slapped by the leader,
“You can explain yo’self later. I said I wanted yo’ alive, not conscious!
Naow, you be a good kid and wait for the answers to come to yo’, wha’cha say
‘bout that?” and they went down the stairs.
On the way, they encountered the rest of the group, each caring one of the
crewmembers, with the exception of Hula, who had to be held by two because
of his size and force. A sub-officer came to report to the leader,
“We found them, probably all. They were locked in their rooms, either
individually or ten in a larger cabin. We broke to doors and found them, some
had sustained brain injuries before. There was one that had recently stabbed
himself in an attempted suicide, as his mate said. He is but far the most injured
out of them all, even without considering the suicide attempt.”
“Excellent. We found this guy. His nose is not very straight and claims to
have beaten the crew, so it’s very possible. A breathing continental! We’ll see
what he has to say later. For now, we focus on our objective. Get them all
outside for the speech!” she commanded.
The man she had sent for some clothes came back and Aidan was given
the chance to put a second set of clothes on himself, including a shirt he tied
around his head to improvise a hat.
The Tunics outside were all lined up in neatly separated rows packed
close to each other. The crew were lined up before them and forced to stay on
their knees on the freezing deck. Jola didn’t even have a shirt on him and his
skin was exposed to the blizzard directly, but he didn’t protest much, being
exhausted and wounded. That’s when the leader marched in front of them, back
and forth, while delivering a presentation speech.
 “Good morning ladies and gentlemen! My name is Sherril Blueice,
formerly known as Kleinstein, formerly known as Laville, and I will be your
host at the brand-new hit-show, ‘What the fuck is going on?’, so buckle up!”
she commenced, pretending she was speaking on a stage and presenting the
name of the show in bright neon lights.
“First of all, I want to welcome you to the Icetowers!” she shouted,
causing a wave of heated discussion among the spectators, who were promptly
ordered to shut and did so. “I know, I know… Hard to believe, ain’t it? No
mansions, no servants, no villas, no infrastructure… Look around, you can
see… a blizzard and… ice? Yeah, it doesn’t get much more interesting than
that, at least for now. Now, you have a lot of questions. And I get that, but
frankly, I don’t care. What you need to know is that your Househeads and
parliamentarians, they know of this. You were willingly, knowlingly and
proudly sent here, discarded as garbage after you worked hard for hundreds of
years… most of you. Some of you have recently died. The thing that you both
have in common is a spite of the government and of society at large. The
youngsters for not enjoying the luxurious life you were supposed to have, and
the elders for the numbness and redundancy workshop life has inflicted upon
you. Long story short, you are too dangerous to be kept in… Lanvos,” and with
those words, she pretended to spit on the deck, “but also, out of generous mercy,
you are spared from execution. Most of you would rather die than live here, but
that is a choice each of you has to make.” and now she turned her attention at
the Miqhuns.
“The people in front of you, are Miqhuns. To the more educated of you,
yes, your gut instincts were right. They work hand in hand with Lanvos. They
get their hands dirty and exile, or deport, you here, in exchange of a cultural
common enemy to keep their people from fighting within themselves. They also
don’t have to worry about food or clothes, or medical aid, or infrastructure and
all those other things you all take for granted, spoiled pieces of shit!” and with
the insult more chitchatting broke out, which was harder to put out, but they
managed to do it eventually.
Aidan was not put on the same row, but he was held in front of them, and
he could see their faces. The ones that were beaten by him here looking at him
with hate and rage, while Kalik’s face was confused at their anger, with his big
teary eyes enough to hurt Aidan more than Jola’s fists ever could. He saw
between the bewilderment on his face sparkles of disappointment and regret,
and they hurt more than the cold on his wounds. He didn’t know what to do at
that moment, but once the crowd burst into comments, Hula took the
opportunity to yell at him,
“What the fuck have you done, lunatic?! Do you know what’s gonna
happen?! You’re clueless!”, but Aidan couldn’t understand him. What he could
though were some insults when he started screeching out swearwords, “Laka!
Kalliku-hun! Nue luk-lauqen-hun!”(*You killer!), which he only realised were
insults. That’s when Jola also exploded,
“May I be delivered from this world, and may Ikuat make me your worst
nightmare, let me take my revenge tenfold for the crimes against the people of
Ikuat! Deliver me from this world and make me a vengeful Icesoul! Ikuat,
deliver me! Nalaki! Nalaki!” he yelled to the sky. Aidan didn’t understand
anything but the last cry.
The Dzuriq asked ‘what?’, but he was told by Hula he’ll get the answers
after the speech was done. Jola, on the other hand, kept yelling ‘Nalaki!’, and
the rest of the crew eventually joined him in tearful sobbing. This scarred Aidan
more than the void in his heart ever did. This sent a chill down his spine and
into every inch of his body so much he began shivering in his warm clothes
violently. All of a sudden, the blizzard warmed his face and hands and his knees
yielded to the emotional weight of the shock, and he fell in a kneeling position
just like the rest,
“No, I-I…didn’t know, I-I’m sorry… I didn’t want… No! What have I
done?!” and as he broke down crying, some tears froze down his cheeks, small
needles of ice puncturing his skin.
The men stopped screaming the cry of despair, and instead started
chattering their teeth and clicking out, the synchronism amplifying the sound.
He didn’t know what it meant, but he realised it wasn’t an everyday occurrence.
“Anyway, now that y’all shut up and listen to someone who knows
what’s going on, we shall proceed. Thously, I shalt sintenceth theez law-
unabiding-ceitizents t’d’moustly fly-shit destinay, t’death!” the leader mocked
the Lavonian Tongue as she pulled a dagger out of her cloak.
She pulled each one by the hair to expose their neck and then slid their
throats with a single slice, then moving to the next. The mastery and speed she
executed them all was terrifying. She knew exactly what she was doing, cutting
deep enough to be lethal, but not deep enough to make them bleed out fast.
They were groaning and convulsing on the deck, coughing blood and crawling
aimlessly, swimming their own freezing blood as the thousands were watching
in disbelief and horror. In hundreds of years no-one saw such a bloody massacre
of cold blood and merciless crime.
“Your Artefacts are in the containers at the edge of the ship. We’ll help
you open them. Whoever wants to follow us is welcome to do so. The rest… do
whatever. Don’t find answers to your questions. Don’t find out what happened
to your ancestors that came to the Icetowers before. Please, roam aimlessly on
this ice shelf until it melts in the summer.” she faced the Tunics with a question,
while Aidan was rolling in the blood of the murdered crew, crying over their
dead bodies.
“By the way,” she told him, “I am sure you do realise that those desperate
cries were calls of friendship. They all died with a very good image of you in
their minds, especially the guy with holes in his stomach! Cheer up!” she
mocked him.
“Why did you do this?! What’s wrong with you?!” Aidan sobbed over the
dying light of the corpses’ eyes as they turned cold in the blizzard.
“Wow! Alright, if you wanna be such a mood killer…” she rolled her
eyes, “I gave some criminals what they deserved. Also, ‘Nalaki!’ is an
incantation these people use when they think all is lost and there is no hope. It
doesn’t have a translation. Some people call their mothers when they lose all
hope and beg for mercy, but your people don’t do that, so… I really don’t know
how to express the desperation and grim hopelessness of that cry to you! Either
way, I’ll let you say goodbye to them until we open those containers. My friend
will be watching you, so don’t try anything stupid, oq kalliku-hun?”
Aidan didn’t respond, insulted and grieving and she went to help crack
open the containers. A chaos ensued as the Tunics passed through one another
in an attempt to find their Artefact and then ask somebody else to carry it for
them. The strange group could not control the mindless herd of individuals
trying to secure their own Artefact first. In fact, the chaos caused some fragile
Artefact to break and a score of the crowd vaporized into the winds of the
blizzard just like that, without mind nor reason. In about one hour, the rush
ended and the Tunics were free to move around as they pleased.
What puzzled the group for a while was a luggage box full of clothes.
They weren’t all new, but none hundreds of years old. They figured those were
better kept, as there must’ve been a reason why they were in the Artefact
container.
Climbing on top of the largest container, Sherry addressed them again,
 “We are going to a settlement right now; we are just waiting for our
engineer to stop the engine of the ship. Please align yourselves in front of the
ship and wait for further instructions!”
After about half an hour of waiting and organization, the people got
going. The short, slim snake was now an almost transparent army, the white of
the tunics blending in perfectly with the snow, only the colour of their hair and
skin making them stand out from the perfect grey and white storm blowing
around them. There were thin black lines at the beginning and at the end of the
massive migration, keeping them in line and leading the way.
For Sherry and the rest of the dead, the march was an effortless walk, but
the same couldn’t be said about Aidan, whose feet were constantly getting
buries in the layer of untouched snow on top of the ice shelf. The wind was a
terrible enemy to have, and it slowed him down even further, besides causing
damage by it penetrating through the two layers of clothing that were protecting
him from the environment. He endured it all in silence, without a groan of pain
or a second of whining, until after about a kilometre of marching he collapsed in
front of his guard, that was watching his back.
Help was immediately called, and the whole group stopped in its tracks.
“I think he’s too tired to continue! He must be used to having a car drive
him around all day long, pair of lazy bones!” his guard called out.
“Or he might be freezing, stupid bitch!” Sherry called her out and
immediately called on a few more in her group. They descended upon him and
used concentrated their willpower and anger into warming their hands. With
such a concentrated heat source, they started laying their hands on him, some on
his toes, others on his hands, and some across his face.
“There you go, lil’ boi, ain’t it soft and warm and cozy and betta naow?
Huh, ain’t it?!” one of them mocked him as he began smiling once blood was
flowing freely through his body again.
Once he got warm enough to get going again, Sherry took charge of
watching over him. She was getting curious as to how they had the chance to
meet, so she began conversating,
“How ‘bout you try to tell me how you got on that ship? A big of
thinking might warm you a little more and I can assess just how bad you’re
freezing by the way you’re talking. We got plenty of time, there’s like another
nine kilometres at least until we reach the place.”
 “Alright… I guess…” Aidan said as vapours exited his mouth and he had
to blink constantly to away the snowy bullets from poking his eyes out, “it
began at my birth, when both of my parents failed to show up.” he joked,
successfully getting a laugh out of his capturer.
“An orphan? A breathing, old, male, orphan? Back when I was a
Lavonian, we didn’t have any of those.” she expressed her surprise.
“We still don’t have any of those… Especially since I’m here.” he
continued, and then kept on telling her how he got into such a situation.
They stopped a few times to reheat Aidan along the way and while he
was telling his story. In regards to the rest of the Tunics, they were unnoticeably
losing numbers as the cold blizzard destroyed more fragile Artefacts, like
hundreds of years old books or pieces of wood that could not withstand the frost
anymore. These terrified the rest, but the black-dressed didn’t wait for any
mourning and kept going through the storm.
“So, you started as a living worker, an oxymoron, the definition of a
contradiction, only to rise up to the Freedomfighters, some of the richest
families Lanvos has, and you just pissed on that?! You’re a madman! Nothing is
ever enough, huh? You always want more, don’t you?” Sherry commented.
“No, no, no, you got it wrong! I…” and he paused for a second to get his
foot out of the snow, “I was offered to come here, and I thought that if I met my
family and saw the studio were Unnquk’s alleged ‘movie’ was shot at… I
thought it would calm me, allow me to let go of the past and become a normal
Lavonian with a normal breathing existence. It just proved to be a trap all
along!” Aidan corrected the misunderstanding.
“And how did you react to finding out what’s going on?” she asked with
an increased prying, all too familiar, energetic curiosity.
“Bad. I… I reacted badly… I… I lost hope in humanity, for the most part.
I saw that nothing matters, that I can’t control my destiny, that it doesn’t matter
what I chose, that everything is fake… So what’s the point then, you get me? I
wanted to kill myself and end the suffering, but Tunics suffer too and my
Artefact was either on the ship or at home, in the midst of the enemy, y’know…
So I felt trapped, and I told you how the crew had an argument over where to go
and what to do with me… I didn’t know about any of it, one day I just woke up
and there were six people left. When I saw that, a kind of disappointment… just
erupted… I don’t want to know why I did it, but I think I do… I wanted to feel
some control, I was so lethargic on the outside and in my mind, but in my
soul… I don’t know. It was a mistake. Know I killed them all! I was selfish, and
stupid and an idiot… I… I don’t matter, I’m just a regular man. I don’t know
why they couldn’t see it. I couldn’t spread the truth on an expedition like
Unnquk tried… I’m… I’m a simple man!”
“Aaa! Well, that makes sense. We deal with people like you every once
in five years, when ghosts are brought here. The guys behind you… Oh my!
They’ll think the same most of them, when they face the truth. Many will
actually kill themselves! It’s gonna be a great sad show!”
The cold was at the same time breaking Aidan apart, physically, but
keeping him together psychically. The common enemy of the natural elements
made the two sides tearing him apart to stop fighting. And in the absence of a
conflict, the one he believed in the most was gaining ground,
“If nothing matters… Than why was I sad when they died? Why did I
help them when I almost killed them? Why did I give them food before they
were starving? Why? Where does this compassion come from, if I don’t matter
and people don’t matter because they lack meaning and control over their
destiny? They may have wanted to free their nation, but they were just as
insignificant as me. Less than twenty people can’t change the mindset of a
nation. The fate of the Miqhuns didn’t rest in me, so neither did it rest in them.
Sure, we could have started a revolt, but they can start one on their own at any
time. It’s not like if they wanted to rebel, they need me. If they wanted, they
could rebel, and the tide of the battle wouldn’t be changed by me or them. Then,
there must a meaning to this all… Otherwise, why would I care since they are
just as inconsequential. There must a reason they mattered to me… There must
be a meaning to all of this, there is a reason why people matter!” the voice
inside his head dictated as he listened closely, without a voice to oppose it by
shaming him for caring, saying that the is in the wrong for giving a fuck about
the deaths of the people who were using him, people that without any remorse
were deporting his own kind at the unjust orders of his traitorous government, a
people that did it all for their own good and their own safety. A spineless
people, bending over to appease their overlords.
“What, you’re not gonna be disgusted by me calling mass suicide ‘a great
sad show’?” she asked him. “Maybe you’re not as gullible of a fool as you first
give the impression.” her interest in him rose, not realising his silence was the
cause of a meditative trance and not a purposeful choice of disbelief. “To be
honest, you’re not that far off when you think that ‘it doesn’t matter’, since if
things go according to plan, and they will this time, you’ll get to the Kingdom
of the Dead Islands anyway.” she brought some bad news.
 “Wait, what?!” he asked her in bewilderment, “Why? What can I do for
you? Why do you want to go there? The crew wanted something to do with
fighting and getting me home. I understand that they don’t understand me and
think I could help, but you understand me, you know I can’t help you!”
“Your head must hurt from all the fragments of information you got out
of those Miqhuns. Don’t worry, things will be clearer when we arrive and you’ll
listen to a less bloody speech. In the meantime, I’m sure you can’t help with
much, but I have a vague idea you could be useful to our cause.” Sherry
explained.
After a few more heat refills and with the added bonus of the blizzard
stopping, the group arrived at the settlement. They were facing a wall of ice
rising even higher into the sky. Into this barrier there were monumental
sculptures, as tall and grandiose as the towering flats back in Lanvos. The
scenes carved into the blue water crystals weren’t the familiar Seagle and Snake
mythological events that prevailed the ornamental motifs back home. They
extended over such a long distance that Aidan couldn’t see the entire story they
were depicting. On the left it began with a scene of battle, two ice colossi
having their hammer-armed hands pass through each other, followed by another
five or so pairs of giants. One pair portrayed the left one holding a heart in their
hand while the right one was having a scared and horrified, overly-dramatized
facial expression and holding their hands on the chest, lumps of ice flowing in a
solid state down like a liquid across the figure from the chest. The next had the
right colossus breaking a stick and the left one was kneeling and crying. It
looked almost unfinished, with only the upper half of the body carved out of the
ice curtain, but the entire complex was so elaborate that it was impossible
something like that was unintentional. Then there was another pair, where the
left was holding triumphantly the head of the right, particles of uncut ice carved
to give the illusion of a liquid raining down from the head, and certain parts of
the left colossus were intentionally left with less refined details to give the
impression of wet drops running across it, as the body of the right one was
kneeling without a head. Then there was the last fighting scene, were the right
one was holding in its hand a flame and laughing defiantly at the left one, which
was totally detail-less, lacking in any kind of shape more complex than a
humanoid one.
The next one had a totally different artistic style. It was not a
monumental, awe-inspiring statue with life-like detail and anatomical accuracy.
It was still a carving in relief, but it was not a full-blown three-dimensional
interpretation of reality. It was bordered on both sides by sculptures of
mountains with hundreds of miniature wailing humans, each fully clothed and
different from the other. Not one was identical to its neighbour.
The same could not be said about the figures in the middle. They were all
one of a total two kinds, with pony-tails or without. The hundreds of figures
were all situated on a military kind of ship and were celebrating at the feet of
two giants, tall as the mountains that bordered the frame, the giants being
merely a scaled-up version of the minions at their feet. The whole depiction
looked ridiculous in its strange and disproportionate scales with two giants
standing on top on a ship that was obviously too small to float with them. It was
obvious that it was meant to convey a story and a feeling in a different way, a
way that the realistic brawling ice giants could not. The most peculiar detail of
the relief though was what could be found under the ship. It was a series of
imperfect and intertwining circles, creating the impression of a cloud,
underneath the waves on which the ship was floating. Underneath the cloud-like
engravement, there were thousands of agonized unique faces, each with its own
subtle nuances and differences, each with its own personality and expression of
pain and despair. They were all lined up, their hands reaching for the ship, but
they all seemed to reach an invisible barrier a meter or so before touching the
cloud-shapes. And beneath their upwards swimming feet there lay another ship,
a cargo ship, modified to accommodate what looked like spikes coming out of
it, representing cannons. The ship itself was resting on the figure of a sleeping
bearded man in a shirt and a skirt, sleeping in content at the bottom of the sea,
silent and wise, undisturbed by the scenery around him.
The next sculpture, the last Aidan could see to the right, was again a
three-dimensional miniature of a ship, with a figure to its left holding their
hands towards it, kneeling, yet looking up at the sky and smiling with lively and
satisfied eyes. One could almost read on the lips of the figure the joy and
ecstasy the figure was going through at the sight of the ship. And by a miniature
of a cargo ship, one meant a replica scaled down to about three hundred meters.
It was massive and as detailed as it could be made, including even the bolts
holding the metal together and pipelines running inside. To the right of the ship,
one could barely distinguish another colossus, with hands wide open, as if
giving the ship as a gift. The figure was weirdly familiar, with a beard
resembling the sleeping man at the bottom of the sea from before, and indeed, if
one went closer, one could see they were one of the same. The sculptures
continued in the distance even further, for a yet unknown distance.
It was a breath-taking sight. One could marvel at the tropical, exotic and
lush forest of Nan Hay, or at the skyscrapers of Kaylin, reaching up to the sky.
The blinding neon lights colouring Soulin in all colours had nothing on the
grandeur of this series of sculptures. The monumental Ditch of Dhilin may have
been about as large, but it was just a hole in the ground at the end of the day.
The rocky East Coast of the Soft Mountains, with the serpentine roads twirling
high above the sea had nothing on this.
“And we’re here!” Sherry addressed the crowd. “This is pretty much the
most civilised place you will see in the Icetowers. Like it, call it your new
home, and obey the rules. Miss on any one of those three conditions and you get
exiled or executed. We don’t fuck around here. We protect what we build! Now
let’s go on.” and then she turned to one of her sub-officers and ordered, “Get
George to announce we’re here. Make a point to emphasise the presence of a
breathing one.” and with that, the man ran off to one of the sides, yelling the
instructions further to George.
Soon afterwards, Aidan could not believe his eyes when he saw a floating
backpack flying a few centimetres in the group’s vanguard. He blinked
repeatedly to clear his sight, but the backpack was still going there, to his jaw-
dropping confusion.
“Um… Am I going crazy or… Is- is that a flying backpack?” he asked
Sherry, hoping she could also see it.
“Nope, that’s George. He was born blind. He’s caring my squad’s
Artefacts, including mine. As the leader, I am caring his. He’s very useful, the
best guard or spy you could ask for!” she explained.
“B-but… Why can’t I see him?” he insisted, dissatisfied with the answer.
“You don’t know anything about how ghosts work? Like, not even the
basics? C’mon, I know you guys don’t cultivate much of the potential, but let’s
be real for a moment!” she replied, surprised by his lack of knowledge.
“I know what there is to know… You heat up when nervous or angry,
you can pass through things if you concentrate and also get stronger if you
really try.” he summed up the basics in a short reply, which disappointed Sherry
further,
“C’mon! You forgot to mention the change of appearance? What kind of
idiot are you?” and she quickly made a demonstration by morphing into an old
lady wearing a tunic and then switching to a little girl in pyjamas a few seconds
later, only to return to her initial state, only this time wearing a baggy cascade-
shaped orange dress and then finally returning to the black outfit, all without
changing pace, in a continuous steady march. “Really?” she asked rhetorically.
 “Well, that was impressive…” he told her, and then excused himself, “Of
course I also knew of that, I just forgot to mention it… But invisibility? I never
saw that.”
“Pun intended?” she inquired, unamused.
“Um… maybe?” he took two seconds to realise how his words came off.
“How unfortunate. I would’ve laughed” she said, leaving Aidan in the
dark as to whether she was serious or not. “As I said, George was born blind.
Most kids get euthanised at an early age, if not aborted, if such a handicap is
discovered. I suppose you are familiar with as much, are you?”
“Well, yes. It is considered mercy, sparing them of a life without
pleasure. They get to suffer less and then…Well, coming to the Icetowers is
supposed to be a reward on paper, y’know?” he said ill-at-ease with his words.
“Indeed. The humanity of the practice is debatable, I’ll give you that
much, and I’m sure that if the truth was out about the Icetowers, the practice
would probably cease. But that’s beside the point. George here was unlucky
enough to have negligent parents, and his blindness was discovered by his tutor
at age seven. The way we change our shapes, well, nobody will tell you, but it
has everything to do with how you view yourself. I can change to however I can
view myself. George was never seen anything, so when he dies, he doesn’t have
an image of his own self and he turns transparent. Simple as that.” She revealed
the secret to the apparent anomaly.
“Wait, but then why don’t you imagine yourself with a sword, or a bomb,
or just imagine yourself as a Birdsnake and terrorize everyone? You’d be
unstoppable, this makes no sense!” Aidan gave the words a second thought.
“Hm… A breathing folk using his brain for more than pleasure and
thinking things through?! Do that again and I might believe your life story!
Either way, what you just argued is the gift of the dement and delusional. I envy
them sometimes, but then I remember they can’t be tamed and are a perpetual
danger, so even we regularly take them down. I personally once duelled a bear
with chainsaws for hands… I think I should have a video of it somewhere! I’ll
show you one day if I find a working charger.”
“I have several questions…” Aidan began, but Sherry replied before he
could answer,
“Let me guess. First, I don’t believe you because for all I know you could
be a junkie that had a bad trip or a delusional man yourself. Secondly, yes, I was
not kidding about the bear.” And she had the surprise to be wrong,
 “Actually, I wanted to ask if the chainsaws were electrical or gas fuelled
and whether the bear was bipedal or not.” he played smart, making up those
questions on the spot to make a more memorable impression.
“Of course, the bear was bipedal! Now, about the fuel question… I don’t
think I remember. Either way, it defied the rules of logic.”
“Thanks, Miss Obvious Blueice!” Aidan mocked her a little and lighted
up the spirits around a little, the conversation getting a few laughs even from the
ones within hearing range.
When they finally arrived, there was another crowd of a few hundred
walking around the feet of the statues to welcome them. Among them, there was
a bored, unenthusiastic official that was speaking to the newcomers on a
megaphone, redirecting them.
“Alright, so anyone that does not agree to the following, please be kind
enough to fuck off, we don’t want to have to kill you. Follow the statues to the
right until the end and you’ll be greeted by someone from another settlement.
Hopefully, you’ll integrate there. There is also the option of fucking off and
going on your own, but that’s kinda boring.” she began her speech.
“Now, we have a few rules that y’all gotta follow, am I understood?
These are: no murder, no theftm no lying and no purposeful deterioration of any
monuments or facilities. These are all punishable by death. Involuntary damage,
if not severe, is punished with exile. Now, there are some cultural values y’all
newcomers should follow. No wearing tunics, no speaking the formal Lavonian
Tongue and no calling anyone ‘Tunic’, y’all gotta face what you are, bloody
ghosts, phantoms, spirits, whatever. There are some more, but you’re gonna be
told of those later, that’s what you gotta know for now. So, before you enter,
please change, we don’t find that rude here, just be yourself, and also watch
your mouth. Now, for the ones that are left… I see some of you have already
left for the right...” she pointed out as a group of a hundred or so abandoned the
meeting.
“Where were we… Oh, yeah… Um, for those who want to find out more
about their families, follow my colleague to the door behind the statue with the
heart out. For those who want to know what the fuck is going on and who are
we, my colleague to do door behind the broken stick statue has y’all covered.
You’ll be taken to the educating facility where you’ll get a short course on the
true history of the world. After that, I invite you to join my colleague to the door
behind the giant ship on the right, were you will be taken through the
Integration Office and hopefully become a member of our community. We have
few jobs and little policing around, you’ll most likely to be admitted, you just
gotta have the right mindset. Um…As a final word, I’d like to add that now is
the moment when I’d have my volunteers hand you useless brochures detailing
what I just said, but we don’t have electricity, a printer, a designer and very
limited quantities of ink, so that’s not gonna happen. We’ll stay for two days
here, so take your time and do shit at your own pace, I don’t care!”
“Wow… how inspiring!” Aidan mocked the pathetically comedic
introduction.
“Olivia is just doing her best, alright? She’s sick of this, even if she
volunteers every five years to do the job. Have some compassion!” Sherry
criticized Aidan’s remark, to which he apologized.
“What?! You’re not gonna get angry? Defend your point? No? Just…
give in like that? Damn, you’re boring!” Sherry pulled a 180-degree change in
attitude. “I start to believe you more and more. No way a Lavonian could end
up like this without going through something like what you said. Anyway, let’s
leave Olivia’s lazy ass with the newcomers and take you to the council, they
must want to meet with you.”
They had to wait until George returned the Artefacts in his backpack and
then together with him, the three entered a door under the great relief sculpture.
Aidan discovered there was a maze of corridors and passages in the wall behind
the sculptures, and he hated it. He kept on falling over and sliding when he
didn’t want to, so bad that he was assisted by Sherry and George to walk
around, and he was surely the butt of Sherry’s jokes for this moment of
vulnerability. Even worse, the constant falls reignited the pain of his wounds to
even greater lengths, causing an avalanche of pain until he was taken to a large,
circular cave gallery-like structure lit by a hole leading to the outside in the
roof, where a bunch of other Tunics were gathered in a circle.
“So… this is the ‘specimen’ we have been warned off?” one commenced
what Aidan would come to realise was a trial.
“We interrupted our prior activities to deal with this potential threat, so
let’s make it quick.” another one continued, “You, as a Lavonian, are faced with
the following charges:
First of all, exploitation of the free and independent spirits of your
ancestors, by enjoying the luxuries bought by their metaphorical sweat and
literal dedication of their time on this world.
 Moreover, you stand accused of crimes against humanity for your
involvement in the system that perpetuates discrimination against ghosts, a
system that views them as nothing but disposable manpower and not as the
unique and sacred individuals that they are.
Thirdly, as a Lavonian, you are accused of the second-degree
murders/involuntary manslaughters of the ghost killed by the system you are
ripping the benefits from. This includes the deaths of the Rebellious Ones and
the murders of the Artefacts that are destroyed by the harsh climate of the
Icetower, as well as the suicides caused by this system.
In addition, you stand before us with charges of high treason to all of
your ancestors by being part of the system that betrays the trust of all past,
present and future ghost-kind.
And finally, you are accused of the complicity to the problem by not
taking action against it, you and in the name of all your living relatives that do
the same. On top of this, I’d like to add that you shall purge, in case you are
found guilty, the crimes of all the possible ancestors you have that happen to be
among us, that have since been integrated in our new, improved, and fair and
above all, just society. Do we have any proposed punishments for this man?”
“Slow public execution! I propose cutting one vein at a time for each year
of pleasure this man abused our fellow ghosts for!” one jury proposed.
“I like your creativity, Fred, keep it up!” the judge and prosecutor noted.
“Any other ideas?” he asked to see other points of view.
“I suggest we strangulate him to the freeze his body in a cube of ice and
make a memento of the enemy out of him!” jury Beth proposed.
“Hm… Maybe we can combine these two together somehow… I want
more ideas, Jerry, what do you have to say?” the judge demanded another idea.
“I think we should dissect him and make some anatomy lessons for the
school, to better educate our new warriors on killing techniques.”
“Great ideas everyone, we’ll vote on the punishment after we hear what
the accused has to say in his defence!”
Aidan was terrified by the speed at which things took place and had to
come with the best he could right then and there.
“W-what? Is-is this a joke? I mean, without any proper pre-
announcement, seems pretty barbaric to me, but anyway. What about the
concept of innocent until proven guilty? And like, half of those accusations
were of things I didn’t even do! Am I responsible for benefitting from a system
I didn’t chose to be a part of?”
“But you did choose!” a jury accused him.
“No, there is no really a choice when it’s either you’re in or you’re a
social outcast, that isn’t really a choice, is it? And I didn’t know of the abu-” he
was cut short by another jury,
“What do you mean you don’t know?! You don’t know the Icetowers are
a lie! It is obvious, I remember back in my day there were Miqhuns in the
newspapers talking about it! And don’t you tell any of us you didn’t know your
ancestors were working their asses off to satisfy you!”
“Alright, first of all, that is the minority that believed the Miqhuns
weren’t part of a movie or someth-”
“The right minority!” the judge interrupted him.
“Yes, and you know the Tu-…ghosts are willingly working for their
living descendants, it’s a sacrifice they are willing to make!”
This argument was thrown out the window by another jury that dismissed
the sacrifice as the by-product of the misinformation he was a helping
perpetuate, and so ‘intentional deceit’ was added on the list of accusations.
“Then tell me what was I supposed to do about it? What was I supposed
to do in an unescapable system which I did not put in place, I did not choose,
but I am accountable for? Everyone is guilty according to that logic!”
“Exactly! You are supposed to speak up, all of you, and take action! Be
nicer to ghosts and step down from your place of privileged luxury to make
more space for ghosts! You should’ve also pushed for laws that make the
classes equal by giving advantages to the disadvantaged. You should have
broken down the system a long time ago!”
“Then why don’t you break down the system? Why didn’t you? You
think that ‘speaking up’ means anything without action? It does nothing! What
actions did you take against ‘the system’?” Aidan defended himself and tried to
shift the blame, seeing this was mock-trial meant to justify his murder.
“First of all, I did all I could at that time with the influence I had over the
world at that moment. I used my platform for good, while you seem to use
yours not to raise awareness, but to perpetrate the system!” the prosecutor
rebuked the allegations addressed at him.
 “First of all, that’s a lot of bullshit! You’re flat out making excuses! If
you hold me to the standards of making and voting laws to enact your utopia,
then hold yourself to that standard! Why aren’t you in the Parliament, but stuck
here, huh?”
“Because of people like you, holding us down! Because you didn’t listen
to our voices!”
“What? Your voices? Now I’m supposed to take into consideration every
conspiracy just because a broken clock is right twice a day?! Shut up! This is
stupid, like holding the Hakdan responsible for the murder of Narseon. It’s not
their fault what their ancestors did. It’s not their fault for being born in a system
that they didn’t chose. And it’s certainly not their fault for just so happening to
be the ‘benefactors’ of such a system! They didn’t choose that! The only way to
avoid it would be to either lower themselves socially, which is wrong. Why
shouldn’t a son inherit the work of his father? Why should he step down and
work from the bottom all over again? And in regards to change, it can be made
achieved only by elevating a community over the other. That’s not equality,
that’s equity! An inequality is a produced by ‘equality’ in the sense of fairness.
There are only so many good tutors, we can’t make everyone a genius! The idea
that some are held back is stupid. In a just system, there is nothing that can
prevent them from rising above. We mustn’t give everyone a good tutor; we
must only give everyone the chance to impress a tutor and be taken! And this
whole shitty debacle that’s going on is a strawman! I didn’t benefit from the
system, not one bit! I suffered from it, just as much as tu-… ghosts!”
“Pfu! Like Lavonians are not all the same privileged pigs! You suffered
and I’m a horse. Proof, or it didn’t happen! And you better have a witness, for
your defence so far was way too emotional and lawless.” the judge dismissed
his defence without any regard for the practicability of his demands.
Aidan kept himself from shouting ‘innocent until proven guilty’, and yet
in the moment of silence, Sherry, so was so far grinning and borderline laughing
at the mock-trial, stepped up.
“I vouch for this man!” and as soon as she did so, the jury stopped talking
among themselves and Aidan’s reddened with exasperation over the unfairness
and obvious bias in this ‘trial’ stopped heating up and his jaw dropped.
“First of all, High-Council, I vouch on his behalf that he is Lavonian in
birthplace and only birthplace! He was born an orphan, and had to work
physical work in both restaurants and offices. Finding true love, it is true that he
rose up the ranks after years and years of working side by side with ghosts and
living in apartments like them. But, and here is the important part, he is here. He
is at the Icetowers for he believed a certain Miqhun called Unnquk, that showed
him recordings of the Icetowers. He could not live the life of a privileged man,
knowing that such atrocities were a part of this world and thus he accepted an
offer from his Househead to come here and see with his own eyes and discover
himself, as well as his family. On the road, he turned his back even on the
Miqhuns when he saw the atrocities committed by their evil kind. And here,
High-Council, I can call all the people under my command, who saw with their
own eyes and heard with their own ears the insults and hate the Miqhuns had for
him, for he found the entire crew hurt and imprisoned! To their death, they
cursed him for his actions! This man suffered side by side with our kind, and the
only reason we could take over the ship is because of him taking over the ship
and surrendering it to us. He is an ally, the scars on his face show it, my
testimony shows it and the ghosts of the Miqhuns he betrayed testify, all in front
of you, High-Counsel! I vouch on my Artefact for his non-Lavonian-ness!”
The jury chattered among themselves and Sherry leaned back, laughing in
her mind, but letting out only a wide smile on the outside.
“The jury has decided!” the judge proclaimed. “You will be the first
living Blueice nominal ghost, a position that you shall honour and cherish!
Sherry is assigned to be your Partner, due to her vouch, and her current Partner
shall be reassigned to somebody else.”
Sherry’s grin died all of a sudden and she began protesting fiercely,
“No, High-Counsel, I beg you to reconsider your choice! My… defendant
does not need a Partner, he is living, he has no Artefact!” she pleaded, the
situation obviously going out of control.
“You vouched on your own Artefact of his innocence and non-Lavonian-
ness. Nobody asked you to be his lawyer, or legal representative. George shall
be assigned to somebody else, while you get to enjoy your ‘prize’ fully. The
decision is definitive. You want him, you have him. Fair and square!” her
appeal was denied and the judge turned to the juries,
“Let inside the thieves and let us judge them. Sherry and Aydan or
whatshisname, you are free to go.” and the members of the counsel distanced
themselves, while Sherry dragged Aidan out of the tunnel, until they got out and
Aidan got to ask a few questions,
“So, what the fuck was that?! How does justice work over here?! What
the Doomsland happened?!” he demanded some explanations, discontented with
the state of justice, and he had to accept the eye-rolled and half-mouthed
explanation Sherry felt obliged to give.
“Yeah… Um… Justice here is actually fair, but we tend to be biased
against your people. You know, the part with being exiled here, leaves a sore
down our throats. A Lavonian is seen as the force of evil. They didn’t want to
listen to you, they just wanted to pretend they did and then kill you.”
“And what’s with the ‘Partner’ shthing?” Aidan inquired.
“Oh, yeah… Well, a Partner is the guy or gal that takes your Artefact
around. You’re kinda tied to that person. Before it was George, he’ll get here
soon enough and bring my Artefact. Now you’ll have to carry it. If you were
dead, I’d have to do the same. I am just as annoyed by this as you are, but I
guess we are stuck. The law is the law, and it can be unfair, but after all, I was
the one that stuck out my neck for you.”
“Aha! So, the ‘High-Counsel’ can do whatever they want around here and
no-one can protest it. Oh… I feel so welcome here! Such a paradisiac land!”
“Almost… It’s a vague mob rule around here, if a jury becomes too
unpopular, they lose office. It’s a weird system, but it gets things going. Now
look, in their defence, they just want some revenge and you could be a really
good scapegoat to get a rush of temporary satisfaction. I get them and for the
most part I agree with them. I mean, to be honest, if I didn’t think you’d be
useful, I would’ve killed you a loooooong time ago, for the same reasons,
believe me.” she confessed without a hint of remorse.
Aidan was taken aback by the shamelessness with which she proudly
proclaimed what he viewed a totally immoral action,
“What?! Then again, what do you see in me? I am just a normal guy! I
don’t matter! Why does everyone act like I’m some kind of hero?! I’m a traitor,
a murderer, I am scum!”
“First of all, I’d like to hear an update on the situation of life in Lanvos.
We rarely get an update from a civil citizen, not military personnel. And then
we kill then either way. We might spare you, though, since you did help our
cause. You also just so happen to be familiar with more social classes than your
average Joe, which is useful. Moreover, you might be useful when we try to
enter an alliance with the Kingdom of the Dead Islands, because you’re
Lavonian and breathing. The king will certainly give us an audience, since
you’ll be an exotic curiosity. Then, with your ship, and an alliance with them...
we’re going to burn Lanvos to the ground! Destroy it all! Wipe it off the map!
Take the revenge we all deserve, and kill each and every single one of them
breathing folk! Kill their children in front of them! Torture them for days, and
take back the country that is rightfully ours! You… will help me, help us, kill
everybody!” she entered a maniacal rant, going further into too much detail on
the ways she’d like to induce pain and suffering into people.
That was the moment Aidan realised he fucked up big time.
After getting over her murderous rant, Aidan could move the
conversation towards more pressing matters,
“Um… How about food? Do you have any? I kinda marched about 10
kilometres in a blizzard… Um… I’m hungry!” he revealed, to Sherry’s surprise.
“What?! Food… We don’t have that around here usually. I’ll have to ask
one of my guys if he took any food from the ship. Let’s go, he has a room in
New Cassan Tunnel at number 234.” she came up with a solution.
Before they could go though, they had to wait for George to emerge from
the tunnels with Sherry’s Artefact so they could exchange them and part ways.
To pass some time, Aidan tried to make conversation with her from the comfort
of a warmer squatting position, holding his hands over an aching stomach.
“What’s up with me and the dudes that killed the crew? It’s simple, they
are under my command while on missions. These missions can range from
scouting to killing and executing criminals to guiding newcomers. Around
Cleansings, we scout the surrounding coastline and when we find them, we give
them the option to come and join out little community. Usually we don’t get to
board a ship and take it, so thank you for that!” she spoke down to the squatting
Aidan as she didn’t tire from standing up.
“It’s been an honour to help you in that regard, really.” he replied
sarcastically, “How ‘little’ is this community, though?” he doubted that a small
community could create the grandiose sculptures.
“Well… About 50000 I’d say. We’re still recovering from the Sixth Great
Revolt from 265 years ago.” she made a rough approximation.
“Wow! That many? Were? Are those tunnels so elaborate and extensive?
I only see a few hundred out here in the…” he tried to find the proper word,
“We call it simply the Porch. It’s this part in front of the statues, which
are the Façade and the interior is called Tunnels. And yes, they are impressive
in just how vast they are. For a breathing person like you most are unnavigable,
but most of us have no problem going up vertical ice tunnels.”
 Eventually the floating backpack arrived, in the company of a man
dressed in blue. A round silver pendant whose edges were a Birdsnake
surrounding a bold Seagle figure nested at the centre of a tree, flied out of the
backpack towards Aidan and seemingly put itself around Aidan’s neck.
“Thanks, little guy! I’ll take care of it.” Aidan thanked George.
“Oh, you better, or I’ll murder you!” a seven-year-old’s voice replied to
him, and then Aidan felt a force over his neck, feeling the weight of two short
legs hanging from his shoulders. He grabbed those legs and stood up from his
squatting position and started walking around, making airplane noises.
The sight of a grown man holding an invisible child over his shoulders
and playing with it amused both Sherry and George’s new partner, who started
bursting out in laugher. The kid though wasn’t as happy about it, and Aidan felt
alleviated from the kid’s weight while concomitantly a tinkling shiver passed
through his neck and upper body.
“I’m 358 years old, you fucking lavon! Don’t do that again!” an annoyed
seven-year-old’s voice reprimanded him, adding to the situation’s comedy.
Sherry turned her head in the pass-through mode, ceasing to interact with
the material world, so the hair extension that was hidden in her long wavy black
hair dropped on her shoulder, which she kept physically interactive. Not making
much of it, she gave the extension to the blue man.
“What?!” Aidan was the only one making a fuss out of it.
“Huh? Stop judging, he died a child, of course his Artefact ended up as
his parents. Be glad they could be separated by this extension…” Sherry
reproached his surprise for the wrong reason.
“No, I mean… How did you do that? Why didn’t it fall through your
whole body? Can you change your phases so quickly?”
“Aaaa!” everyone present let out, and Sherry explained, “Sorry, of course
you don’t know of ‘selective transcorporalism’, but you can use ‘selective
transparency’ as it is more colloquial, even if not very accurate. I’ll tell you how
it works when we make a tour of the place. Now we’re going to Scavenger Sam
to search for some food.”
She led Aidan on a tumultuous journey through the tunnel system that ran
in the ice wall. The tunnels weren’t particularly large, more about the size of
two people walking one next to the other or even smaller. As they advanced into
it, the light sources multiplied in such a way that it was not pitch black, only a
greyish atmosphere. Light came in through a series of perfectly vertical tunnels
perpendicular to the ceiling. Aidan soon discovered he had to take precaution
when walking, for these vertical tunnels did not always stop at the ceiling, but
intersected further into lower tunnels. Aidan had to rely on Sherry to avoid
sliding off into the labyrinth. Since he was bearing her Artefact, she could not
push or drag him, but offered instead to be something to hold on to. This didn’t
go down well with his still healing wounds, but the hunger became powerful
enough of a motivator to push forward in the grim maze. In addition to this,
there was traffic in the tunnels and he had to endure tinkles as the once inflicted
by George over his entire body, as ghosts went through him.
“Sam, you there? Wha’cha doin’?” Sherry asked when they finally
arrived to his corner of the tunnel, a small cavity dug into the wall.
The question was more redundant that it would initially sound, until one
realises there was no door to speak of, and Sam was in plain sight.
“Nothing important, I was just adjusting my collection to the new
pieces.” he answered and got out of the way to show that in the wall of his cave,
some shelves were melted into shape. On them there lay a vast array of canned
food and even some frozen meals. “Oh, you got the Lavon with you… Why is
he wearing your medallion?” Sam was quick to notice.
They entered the cave and inside discovered that in the corner, Sam had
carved for himself a life-sized replica of an apartment, albeit more similar to the
temporary homes Tunics stayed at their residency than the work apartments
Aidan was accustomed to. He had an ice bed with a real frosty pillow and
frozen sheets and blanket, next to which an ice cube was fashioned into a
nightstand, while in the other corner he had a make-believe desk and a closet.
While Sherry explained what they wanted from him, Aidan couldn’t help
but notice that Sam was holding a not-so-frozen slightly mouldy.
“Excuse me, but where did you get that?” he pointed at the sandwich.
“I got it from someone’s bag. We took it off your ship today and found
inside some blasphemous tunics, but also this wonder! It’s a rare piece for my
collection,” he pointed at the stash of rotten or expired cans on the wall, “and is
in pristine condition! A sandwich is a rare piece, Miqhuns don’t really make
them, so it’s either blind luck or you were lucky enough to board a damned
hunter. I think I know somebody that also has one, but that one is hundreds of
years old, so it doesn’t count.”
 “Shit! Where is it?! That’s my luggage! I need those things, they are
mine!” he demanded the return of his propriety.
“Can I keep the sandwich? The rest should be at the Lost Items Section.”
Sam braced the sandwich.
“Yeah, I don’t care, keep it…” Aidan accepted the disgusting request.
“Excuse me!” Sherry retook lead of the conversation, “Sam, the idea is,
you gotta borrow us some food. The guy’s starving!”
“Um… no! It took me years to collect all these mementos, you’re not
gonna get them just because you want your pet not to starve.” He refused
vehemently, gesturing with the sandwich in his hand the refusal.
“Sam…” Sherry began to lose her composure, “The guy’s the bloody
bastard that took out the crew for us in the first place! He’s the total
incompetent wonder that led the ship into the ice shelf for the taking. Some
respect would be welcome on your part. And I have a plan with him and the
King of the Dead Islands, so please, give him some food!” she started to anger
herself so much that water droplets formed under her feet.
“Woah, woah! Why didn’t you say so? If we own this man the capture of
the ship, then he is welcome to have some of my… hm… doubles. I’ll give him
a pair of my freshest canned doubles. Do you prefer at least five-year old beans
or porkchops?” he asked, putting the sandwich on a shelf and taking a pair of
can to present the products he offered.
“Hoo! That’s one hungry boy! I’ll give you all that I have, lets see… Yep,
five cans in total. You can eat all of them.” and he handed Aidan the cans
without any means of opening them and turned to Sherry “Now, I suggest that
my goodwill be rewarded somehow, don’t you agree?”
“Uh!” she rolled her eyes, “Fine! You’ll be paid with… how about you
watch him eat. Is that enough for you? He can eat here… Aidan, take a seat on
the ice-bed!” she ordered him, who was starting to freak out.
To open the cans, he gave them to Sherry, who put her finger through
them and then concentrated to regain a physical form, deforming the metal her
finger was displacing and thus creating a hole with little to no effort. With the
lid cracked, it was easy to remove, and the only impediment left was the fact
that the food was frozen solid after years of staying in a freezer. While it kept it
from being inedible, it had to be warmed up somehow, so Sherry used her hand
as a miniature stove to heat it up.
 “Woah, you can get it hot pretty quickly!” Aidan’s sleepy eye observed.
“Thanks. I was thinking of what I’d have done to the crew weren’t it for
the newcomers we had to instruct and recruit.” she smiled with a sadistic
pleasure, to which Sam could relate.
“Like remember when we found those castaways? From the fingers
slowly up and up and chop and up and up and then the beheading… Ay! Those
screams and pleas for mercy… Wonderful rhapsody! Rarely do criminals get
what they deserve, rarely…”
In other situations, Aidan’s hunger would have dispersed because of the
abhorrence of the image painted, but this time it was an exception. He wasn’t
given a spoon or fork, so he savagely and gracelessly used his hand and mouth
to eat. The gravity of the circumstances was also what kept him from
regurgitating the repugnant taste of the food, for he could not afford to be picky
in such a situation. He perfectly ignored Sherry and Sam who were looking at
him with great admiration.
“I can’t believe it! It’s been… what, 50 years?” he began remarking
“65.” Sherry corrected him.
“Whatever! 65 years since I haven’t seen anyone eat, especially not like
that, I mean look at him! His so desperate, just look at how he uses his fingers
and bends his neck to get as much as he can! Last time wasn’t so fun!”
“Oh yeah… And they discovered George and we all had to run before
they killed us all. But still, it was a good fight after we peaked on them having
lunch. Too bad they didn’t get what they deserved!”
“Oh! Pay attention, look at that! Look how he chews it! Om-nyom! And
then his neck, how the food goes down… Just… wow! Do you remember how
that tastes like?” he asked Sherry.
“I don’t remember, but it must feel pleasant, like how do they call it?...
Delicious! That’s the word, like a good thought! Aidan, can you explain the
taste, how does it feel like?” she passed the question onto him.
“Hm… Like… How do you describe ‘red’ to George?” he asked
rhetorically, not knowing how to describe taste to someone incapable of tasting.
“Well… I don’t have eyes, technically, so he sees like any of us. I don’t
understand how we do it though.” she admitted not knowing. “But to a blind
breathing man, I’d say warm. But how does warm feel like, Aidan? I don’t
remember that either.”
 “I guess it must feel like calming down, doesn’t it?” Sam threw his two
cents to the discussion.
“Um… Cold is like heavy, stab-like and sleepy, depending on the
severity. Warm is like… yeah, relaxation; calming down… Hot is like…
stressful, wet, sweaty” he stopped to chew and swallow, “and boiling is just
pain, like dying in layers, from the outside to the inside.” he attempted to
translate the feelings into something they could understand. “How did you know
how much to warm this if you can’t feel how hot it is?”
“Simple. With practice you get to associate different levels of angst with
different heat levels. I don’t feel the heat, but I can approximate the effect it will
have on different substances.” she replied and then Sam added,
“Practice makes perfect!”
After he finished eating the cans, Sam insisted that the cans remain with
him. Aidan in turn asked to borrow the sheets for his stay as he had nothing
better to sleep on.
“No way, no! You’re warm, you’re going to melt the bed! I won’t just
give you the pillow and blanket and whatnot, you’re going to sweat in them and
then they will freeze even worse! You won’t ruin what I have here, be contempt
that you took from me cans that I could change for cans that I don’t have!” Sam
refused; this time unmovable in his refusal.
“C’mon, Sam! He brought the ship, and now we can start the Seventh
Revolt! Remember what the prophecy said… Who do you have in front of
you?” Sherry tried to soften him by hitting at a weak point.
“Hm…” he fell into thinking out loud. “As it is written on the Façade,
Hugh Blueice the Only promised on his dying breath, ‘…and I will gift you the
arms to free yourselves, and know that there will be no treason when I get back,
I will deliver you, we will be invincible and our enemies will tremble with fear,
for they will know that I have returned’… Does that mean… So, either this man
in front of me is the incarnation or it’s all supposed to be taken metaphorically.
In that case he’d be a tool of Hugh Blueice the Only.” and a spark of joy grew
into an explosion in his eyes. “We are in the end days! We are in the end days; I
must tell everyone!” he burst out laughing in celebration.
“So, will you borrow the second life of Hugh Blueice the Only your
damned pillow?!” Sherry tried to put him back on track.
“What? It’s obvious he isn’t Hugh Blueice the Only, the prophecy said
clearly that ‘our enemies will tremble with fear’ and He will ‘deliver us’. I don’t
see this man leading us and I saw him cry over the death of our enemies. He’s
clearly just a tool. I won’t give him my blanket or pillow or sheets!” he
protested with theological arguments.
“You know, you’re acting very Lavonian… I mean, aren’t Lavonians
self-obsessed and care only of themselves?” Aidan approached him from a
different angle, resulting in angering Sam.
“Don’t you ever accuse me of that ever again, lavon!” he reproached
Aidan, explaining his point of view, “Huh? ‘For the enemy is in act, not in
custom; listen to me when I say, that if your enemy loves their friends, it is not
wrong or hypocritical of you to love your friends’, that’s what Hugh Blueice the
Only said! It’d be wrong to let myself be used like before I was renamed
Blueice, be the slave of the Lavonians! I already feed you, something a
Lavonian would never do to a stranger in need! Get out! Both of you!” and he
kicked them both out of his small apartment.
Seeing the hopelessness of the situation, they went to the Lost Items
Section to get his stuff. On the way, Aidan wanted to clarify a detail about what
had just happened.
“Why didn’t you just order him to give you his pillow? Aren’t you his
boss?” he asked, sliding at slow speed down a tunnel.
“I’m not his boss, alright? I’m a leader. Big L if you fancy. It’s like with
the juries, I am chosen and have ultimate authority over him only on missions. I
can’t force him to do whatever I want outside of schedule.”
“And why don’t you treated to punish him during the missions, when you
legally could? No offence, but you look like the type that would do that.”
Sherry unexpectedly took great joy in his remark,
“Here we don’t have legal loopholes like that. We made our own system.
As I said with the juries, it’s mob rule. The only thing that keeps me in office is
my popularity. If I act like a moron or abuse my power, people won’t think
fondly and respect me anymore. That’s why I can’t threaten him.”
“This system sounds stupidly easy to abuse through the spread of
nepotism and fake information.” Aidan criticked their system, which he found
deeply idiotic and surface-levelled.
“I never said it was perfect, but it keeps intellectual homogeneity, which
is what we are going here at Blueice anyway.”
 Aidan soon got his luggage from the bored clerk and together with
Sherry, he looked at what he still had at the foot of a statue. It was almost
entirely filled with clothes of all types, but especially tunics, among which a
few other things made their way. A toothbrush and toothpaste, a brush, some
books and a printed picture from his wedding. There was also a small bottle of
liquor that was somehow missed by however opened it. He was planning on
giving the picture as a gift to his family when he met them, and the drink was
for Unnquk for good times behind the rolling cameras. And just like the missing
sandwich, he had the unpleasant surprise of not finding a pack of biscuits.
“Alright… this is it! All I brought…” he concluded.
“What’s this? ‘Whiskey’… 40%! Huh… I haven’t seen one of these in
centuries, literally.” She took the bottle and read it out loud.
“I suppose you want a description?” he asked, reading the enthusiasm on
her face with distress.
“Nah…” she shook her head. “I want a fucking demonstration! You’re
gonna drink this at some point. There is a girl here that has a bottle like this for
an Artefact, but otherwise I can’t remember much of what it was.”
“Alright… in that case, get some snow and melt it in here, or I’ll die of
thirst.” he gave her a can that he found in lost in the tunics.
She did as such four times one after the other as Aidan kept on filling
himself to satiate his thirst.
“Look, I know this must be strange for you, but I am tired.”
“Physically tired. We also get tired mental-” she interrupted him, only for
her to be interrupted by him herself.
“Yeah, you gonna focus to use those abilities and you still have some
feelings. I know that. I mean, where can I sleep? Do you have your own cave or
do I have to stay out in the wind? I know it’s not very late, but I’m tired as fuck,
so excuse me.”
“Yeah, I’ll take the luggage to my cave and you can follow. And what do
you mean by ‘not late’? It’s about eleven or so… almost midnight.” she said as
she stared at the sun.
“What? Are we that south? How much night do you get?” he asked as
they began heading for the tunnels.
“About three hours this time of the year.” she replied.
 In the small cave, Aidan constructed a makeshift bed out of the clothes,
which Sherry had the kindness once asked, to warm up a little. He used some
tunics as blankets and used the case of luggage as a pillow, since he ran out of
clothes. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but in that situation, he considered
it a luxury he was lucky to afford.
“Are you gonna watch me sleep the whole night?” he asked as me made
himself comfortable in a foetal position.
“I wouldn’t use the term ‘night’, but I’m sure I’ll get bored after a few
hours of starring at you from the shadows like a killer at its pray.” and she took
a few seconds to think what she should say next, settling on a simple, “Bye!”
“Bye? What about ‘Good night!’ or ‘Sweet dreams!’, why that?”
“Just be glad I remembered I’m supposed to wish something, fine?” she
reprimanded him on a defensive tone.
Aidan was blessed with a dreamless quiet sleep that skipped time forward
for a while

Chapter 20: Out in town

Chapter 21: The Ice Ball Bubble

Aidan had slept very well until the touch of a hot finger on his forehead
woke him up. He let out a little screech and jumped up all of a sudden, slipping
and falling back on the ice floor.
“Aaah! What was that for?!” he asked as he got up, holding the hot point
with his palm.
“Well, I got bored after about 3 hours of watching you and we have some
business to attend.” Sherry explained. “By the way, do you know that you make
a sound while sleeping? How do they call it?”
“Snoring? I don’t usually snore, I’m sure Ira would’ve told me… What
business?” he replied and followed her through the tunnels.
“Um… Yes, I think ‘snoring’ was the name of it. You’ll see what we
have to do.” she kept the reason to herself.
 He found the answer to his question soon enough, as his heart skipped a
beat when he saw the crowd that had gathered outside in front of the statues.
There were thousands out, all lined towards the same general direction. When
he looked there, over the woven fabric of heads lining over the snow, he saw
there was someone standing above on a pedestal. Sherry led the way, parting the
sea of rambling and gossiping people, with a stern voice and body language
vanishing away angry and astonished gazes alike that were threatening her
companion.
“What’s going on?” several people asked.
“Kyle Blueice, former Andros,” a man a stone’s throw away forward
replied, “has killed a newcomer while teaching the history and then hid it, lying
to us all!”
“Well, the newcomer deserved it! He didn’t give up the Lavon customs
and insulted Kyle!” a woman next to him defended him.
“True, but murder is murder, to the chasm with him! ‘Punishment is
punishment and reward is reward’, that’s what Hugh Blueice the Only said!”
one of the original questioners said.
As they got closer, Aidan realised he didn’t notice at first a cube about as
tall as a person on the left. It served as a stage on which a now only halfway
distinguishable words were addressed to the crowd through a rusty megaphone.
That’s when eavesdropped a different story,
“Kyle was such a sweet guy; I can’t believe he’s a criminal! The poor
newcomer! Kyle was not a lavon! I can’t believe it… The lies he told him…
imagine what he could have told us!” one of the mourned.
“But ‘the bad shall be punished badly and the lawful shall be rewarded
lawfully’, that’s what Hugh Blueice the Only said!” someone comforted their
pain and hugged them.
When Aidan could properly hear what the man on the platform had to
say, he realised what he had heard before were repetitions or summaries of what
he was saying, distorted by a game of telephone to a different story.
“And so, I ask you if we agree that we should apply the law, as the High-
Counsel ruled, and punish Kyle Blueice, formerly Andros, for the criminal lying
revealed to us by the friend of the victim, recalling the event that took place
while his friend was still a newcomer?” the man with the megaphone asked.
 A wave of chilling agreement followed, the loud yelling and affirmation
of the concession not reflecting the will of the crowd in its entirety. Aidan could
read on the lips the disagreement of many, calling for forgiveness, but their
screams could not be heard over the furore of excitement. Moreover, the wave
of condemnation coming from the back confused Aidan, as they were agreeing
to something they were misinformed about.
“What’s going on?” Aidan asked Sherry as she took him to the back of
the cube.
“Ugh!” she rolled her eyes. “Why do you care?” she didn’t have the
patience to clarify.
“What is going on?” Aidan repeated more seriously.
“Fine!” she snapped at him. “After the High-Counsel, one can appeal to
the will of the populous for justice. This is the Platform, we make public
announcements, judge people, anything that needs the approval of as many
people of the settlement as possible. It’s every day from 11 in the morning. I
made an appointment and after about two more guys come, I’ll have my own
little speech and you just need to shut up and show yourself. Got it?” she rushed
to clarify what was going on.
“And what will happen to this guy? What’s a ‘criminal lie’?”
“It’s none of your business!” she dismissed him.
“I’m not standing still on that cube unless you tell me what’s happening
to this guy!” he threatened her.
“Oh! We’re getting some courage, aren’t we? Haow ‘bout ya mind’cha
own damned yard, huh? Ya don’ wanna get hurt naow, d’ya?”
“You’re not gonna hurt me!” Aidan stood up to her. “I have your Artefact
and you need me. So, tell me what’s happening to this guy!” Aidan defied her,
dancing on the edge of a dangerous blade.
“Got me there.” Sherry admitted with half a mouth. “It happens every
day, it’s kinda boring, that’s all. This guy was accused of lying to a newcomer
about 50 years ago. One of the council members told me Kyle strayed from the
curriculum on the Lavonian pirates in private with someone. That guy didn’t
shut up and told a friend, who now came out, revealing the crime. This Kyle is a
popular teacher, so he was accorded the right to this trial. Now, he’ll most likely
get thrown into the Chasm of the Evil. It’s a hole in the ice about a kilometre
away where we throw the Artefacts of criminals to the bottom of the sea, to
hopefully stay there for a few hundred years.” she whispered as to not attract
unnecessary attention at them.
“What? For a lie, told in private of all things? 50 years ago?! Are you
insane? Don’t you think it’s a little harsh? The people in the back think he is a
murderer and agree to that, not to this!” Aidan protested the injustice.
“Yada yada yada! Look, I’m not the one to say what’s right and wrong,
and frankly, I couldn’t give less of a shit about this particular individual, so it
doesn’t matter. Sorry for the megaphone,” she then pointed at the figures on the
Platform, “but if it weren’t for your people maybe we could have… I don’t
know, electricity and a sound audio system!” she shifted the blame off of the
settlement’s people. “You’d understand the hate of lies if you were lied to for
hundreds of years, promised a paradise that doesn’t exist, so shut the fuck up,
won’cha?” she snapped again, getting warmer.
After another one of the trials that infuriated and stepped on Aidan’s
nerves, someone came to call for volunteers to help maintain a statue and then
they were called on the cube. The lack of stairs didn’t stop Sherry, but Aidan
had to make a fool of himself in front of everyone, in order to climb the cube.
“Dear ghosts of Blueice settlement! It is me, Sherril Blueice, formerly
Kleinstein, formerly Laville, leader of a patrol squad, of 585 years a part of our
community! I have come here to address you the good news!” she began by
presenting herself, which was followed by cheers from the audience, with hands
thrown in the air and jumping in place.
“This is about us! And who are we? Who do we stand for? We are not
Lavonians, we are not Miqhuns, neither Rhovnians, nor the Dead! We are
ghosts! We are each and every man, woman and child that was exploited, we
stand for the enslaved, we stand for the deceived! We reject all forms of
oppression and we will fight for the freedom of the beaten-down! We believe in
the Truth above all and we will enact justice, we will come for the oppressors,
for our wrongdoers and not only, we will punish those who believe in the Lie
and those who perpetuate, knowingly and unknowingly, all the accomplices and
everyone that supports them! There is no forgiveness for hundreds of years of
crushed dreams, hundreds of years of running with the promise of a paradise
over the horizon, hundreds of years of suppressing who you are and comply
with the arbitrary, made-up, constructed, subjective and fake rules of society!
There is no forgiveness for such people! Am I right!?” her rhetoric was
swallowed by the crowd like a lost desert traveller stumbling by chance into an
oasis. Blessed by chance with another hope for life, they revitalised themselves
by the consumption of the same liquid that they had to consume to keep the
spark of life alive.
“Our eternal leader, the spirit of the revolution, Hugh Blueice the Only”,
she resumed, grabbing a fist of air above her head, “promised at the First Great
Revolt that he will lead us to Lanvos and we will free our children, brothers and
sisters, form the leash of the living! He promised that we will show them the
truth and the take back what is ours, make the living pay for their lush luxury!
We are the saviours of all ghosts across the world! We will institute our way of
doing things and take down the government that sent us here! Justice is on our
side, so this is not revenge, this is righteousness! When we will kill them, it is
equality! When we will take over and enjoy the luxury again, we will be taking
back the fruits of our work that they live on! And we’ll show the workers how
they were exploited! Nobody shall be chained anymore! We’ll all be free in a
land of fairness! Hugh Blueice the Only told us, ‘we shall be anointed and
rewarded for the hundreds and the thousands of years of suffering in the boring
rigid ice cold’!”
The cheers, full of resentment to his people, were starting to worry Aidan.
In front of him there was an army, thousands of people wanting only the
downfall of everything he knew.
“I-I don’t love Lanvos, I-I hated, yeah, passively or actively hated it! For
what it did to me, for how things work, for forcing me to be lower than my
peers, for forcing me to be poorer, to suffer more, to grow apart from the rest of
the people, exiled on the inside… But that’s not the people! Those are idiotic,
selfish people that only care about remaining in a constant state of pleasure!
They have nothing to do with this! Doomsland, it’s the government, that’s
obvious! They know when they were alive they were like this, they know they
went to work to supply for their children, to pay back for their perfect life…
How can they be so dense as not to realise it!?” he asked himself and as the
cheers died down, Sherry continued.
“He promised we will be rewarded, and what reward is there better than a
return to our own lives?! A return to when you felt, to when you were a human,
a full entity! A return to life, to live freely in glory and abundance! No more ice
and snow sculptures and imitations of life, we will take back the real deal and
make the living pay for their snobbishness while still alive! Look around
yourselves, look at the statues, look at Blueice! Look at the marvellous creations
of what only 50000 of us could do! Imagine the grandeur we are capable of with
the resources of Lanvos! Millions of hands to remake the world in our imagine,
in the imagine of justice and fairness! The Deserters will realise what they
missed; we’ll show them! We’ll prove the settlements of Whiteplain and
Snowtown that they are wrong! When the Nomads come and say that we are
asking too much, we’ll make them regret not joining us! They all can’t see the
bigger picture, they can’t see that taking over Lanvos is the lesser evil, for it is
only a mere payback! They can’t see we are looking after the greater good, we
will stop millions of people from committing suicide and enduring our pain, at
the cost of a few hundred thousand living folks! Once they die and see how it is
not to feel, they’ll understand our angst, they’ll see their own hypocrisy, they’ll
join us! Our settlement is the most civilised at the Icetowers, our way of ruling
will be beneficial to the most people! You heard the Nomads say that we are
forcing peace on other people, but that is not true! We are doing the minimum
for the well-being of most existing people! As Hugh Blueice the Only said,
‘think of yourselves, if you were still living in luxury, would you let us take it
from you? No, you’d fight, for back then you were brainwashed, back then you
were irredeemable, but now you atoned! Do not let their selfishness stand in the
way of order and justice!’, that’s what he said!” she started yelling out the
message as loud as she could in the megaphone, so loud that Aidan had to step
back and cover his ears.
To his horror, there were more people coming from the tunnels, like a
flow of water out of a sink, flooding in the basin and listening to the speech
Sherry was telling them. The overwhelming approval of the people was
frightening.
“I saw this spirit… I saw it at the protests… I was part of it, I let myself
go, live in the moment… Are these people too? Are they not thinking, only
going with the flow?! Do they listen to this bullshit?! No… it’s worse… they…
believe it, they live for it! The protests didn’t have this vigour, this life energy,
this allegiance to destruction! This is madness! Everyone is going crazy!”
“What I promise you is no pie in the sky, and I promise to you all, to
each and every one of you, that the day has arrived! Those of you who look at
me and understand, each and everyone one of you can become an agent of
justice! You can make a change, and I am here to tell you how! Me and my
patrol have captured a cargo ship! The best kind, the kilometre long! We have
captured the Paul Bear!” she proclaimed as some segments hailed her louder
than others.
Aidan understood those must have been from ghosts that were brought
here on that ship in the last decades.
 “Thanks to this man on my right, we can take each one of us and leave
this place to bring equality to this world! All hail Aidan, honorarily Blueice,
formerly Freedomfighter, formerly Farefax!” she wanted to initiate some love
and appreciation for him, but got silence in return.
“Oh, shit!” they both thought independently.
Murmur, chattering and discussions broke between different groups
within the congregation, with a person from somewhere in the front rows
coming forth to speak on the behalf of his group.
“I believe I am speaking on the behalf of everyone wh-” he started.
“Please get on the stage and hold the megaphone so others can hear you.”
Sherry interrupted him, and he complied.
“Rude interruption, but anyway…” he started, again, “We can all see by
his breath and clothes that this man is alive… A living lavon! Why isn’t he tried
for his crimes?!” he accused him, pointing his finger and gathering the support
of a cheering crowd.
What ensued was, for Aidan, the embodiment of the anarchy and
lawlessness that ruled supreme among these frustrated Tunics. Sherry was split
in three, trying to get the megaphone, appease the crowd, and explain to Aidan
what was going on. He found out that a new trial just broke out and he would be
judged by the crowd. The man that came on the stage was acting as a non-
appointed prosecutor, not giving Sherry the megaphone and continuously
skewing with popular opinion. He accused him of the same thing the High-
Counsel did, but rejected to even hear him out, unlike the Counsel, on the
ground that ‘the lowest of being do not deserve such a privilege, based on the
privileges he is enjoying as a living lavon’.
For the next three hours Sherry relentlessly swore and vowed on his
behalf, not only inviting members of the High-Counsel to testify on the
existence of his previous trial, but also to the decision. To verify their
testimony, eventually every person in Sherry’s patrol party and High-Counsel
member had to be interrogated. This proved to be not enough, as they were
accused of being too lenient and their opinions too subjective. Though, with
their trustworthiness proven, Sherry saw an opportunity to exit the massive pile
of shit everyone was sinking in. By the end of those three hours, she retold the
life summary Aidan initially gave her, purposefully omitting parts like the times
he did enjoy living with Ira and embellished details such as his impostor
feelings into blatant exploitation. He became his wife’s housemaid in this
version, looked down upon by everyone but the ghosts that were also serving
the family, who looked at him with ultimate and supreme compassion,
understanding and pity, helping with every occasion. He also purposefully beat
up all seventeen crew for their moral wickedness, and not only six, and those
because he was afraid for his own life and confused.
“You bloody…” Aidan was thinking to himself, “Whatever gets me not
dead is fine, but you’ll have to answer a few questions!”
The trial concluded with the exact same conclusions. Aidan was in fact
not Lavonian and was accepted into the community as an honorary ghost.
Sherry then had to retell her original idea, as it was almost forgotten b
most people in the outrage. She detailed her plan to use Aidan’s exotic nature to
get an audience with the King of the Dead Islands and then use their numbers
and the ship as reasons for his support of their Seventh Great Revolt. Evidently,
the plan was accepted and Sherry started to talk with the members in her patrol,
which saw themselves become military officers in the span of a few minutes.
“So, Jack, you take some volunteers and go to the ship. Your division
will be responsible for getting the ship out of the ice. Smart-pants Carry will
take some ex-seamen and oversee the engine and stuff. I’ll be here, making sure
everyone gets the message and the other divisions stay organised. Stay on the
ship if you’d like, but don’t touch the dead bodies on the deck. I wanna be there
when we cut them up!” she dismissed everyone to do their job.
“And me?” Aidan asked, confused as to what came next.
“Do whatever for the moment, just stay close enough to where I want to
go. Or… you could come with me on a short tour of the newcomer circuit. I’ll
go there to spread the message.” she told him his opinions.
“No thanks, I’ll think I’ll go back, try to get warm and such…” he found
an excuse to stay alone. “Anything but staying with you and your peo-…
ghosts…” he added in his head.
“Then don’t. Don’t come with me. Don’t follow me to the Info Centre,
don’t ask anything about your family, who knows, you might actually find what
happened do them. Oh well… Nevermind that.” she toyed with him on a
sarcastic tone and oblivious voice, a smirk completing the irritating attitude.
“Hm… Alright, I’ll come, but you gotta warm me up a little, I’m freezing
again… And some food would be nice too… Actually, add some water, too.” he
pretended to order at a restaurant to counter-attack her game.
 She didn’t take it lightly and the warming wasn’t pleasant, with her
intentionally almost burning him in several places. They went on their tour
without having satiated his hunger or thirst.
They entered a tunnel behind the ship statue, where the Integration Office
was located. It consisted of a long tunnel at the end of which there was a large
room, lit with the usual pipes through the ceiling. In it, a few hundred people
were waiting to be interrogated by a few dozen volunteers. The one that were
accepted were pointed to a set of stairs going up, deeper into the ice, guarded by
a score of ghosts. While the rejected left on the tunnel they entered, the guards
let the admitted in. The stairs were going up in circles, going around a cylindric
wall. They led all the way up to the top of the glacier, where a monumental
chasm awaited them. It went down into the glacier, with spiralling stairs
assuring access to the bottom. It went entirely through the ice, the bedrock on
which this desolate landscape surfacing at it’s very bottom, being lit only on
certain days for a limited amount of time, because of just how long the drop
was. An initiate would be accompanied by some of the guards down for almost
a kilometre, after which an eery sight would confront them. With precise, short
intervals between them, pairs of eyes belonging to faces stuck in the ice would
stare into their souls. They were too many to count, going all the way down to
the bottom of the hole. A living being would experience a feeling of vertigo just
from descending into the abyss on the slippery ice treads, lacking in balusters
and handrails, the hundred-meter diameter of the cavity seemingly swallowing
all light and life the deeper one ventured into in. Still, the faces sculpted and
accompanying a newcomer at each and every step had the same effect, the faces
fading into simple rectangles when viewed from the opposite wall. These
rectangles stacked on top of each other, intimidating with their sheer number.
Knowing that each of those was an individual face, not one identical to the other
gave the idea of the scale of the community and how the people accumulated
over time, how destinies flowed into the eternally cold ice walls. It was akin to a
cemetery stanning the entirety of the horizon, creating a dead grey line of doom.
It was above all a memento, as most of the faces seen on the wall couldn’t be
found anywhere else, their ghosts long passed the second death. Now there was
only the shadow of a life left, lost among hundreds and thousands of other
destinies that were never meant to see the light illuminating the hole at that
moment.
So was the initiated brought to add their own face. The fear inspired by
the sight, the fear of ending up the same, could easily be transformed into
resentment and hate for the one trying to inflict such a fate on them, a hate for
their homeland and a hate for their descendants, a hate for their own foolishness
and a hate of themselves, for the past mistakes and for helping create this
vertical graveyard. This hate heated up the initiate, who then was asked to melt
their own face into a clean slate of ice. In doing so, they were told by the guards
that they were forgiven for their lives of luxury and were reborn, losing
whatever identity they held before and being reborn as a Blueice, loyal to their
cause of inflicting justice and spreading the word of the crimes done against
them. These words didn’t help much at that moment, but they planted an idea.
An idea that they were not the same. Like comparing their six-year old self with
their adult self. Two separate captures of the same life, that if it were to be
contemporaneous, would be considered two different people, with different
priorities and different values. Who was to say that it had to take so long? Who
was to say people couldn’t become someone else overnight?
As such, many eventually grew to forgive themselves, to separate
themselves from their past, to segregate their unaware selves from the people in
the exact same blissful ignorance, without forgiving those, but holding a grudge
and an anger against them as the aggressor, as the one that could change the
world but doesn’t look deep enough, doesn’t question, an apathetic supporter of
a negative peace, with the absence of visible conflict, instead of a positive one,
one where justice ruled supreme.
Sherry neither had the time nor the willingness to risk Aidan’s life and
show him her face on the Wall of Memories, but she told him what was over the
stairs and the significance it had to have your face melted in order to be
accepted as a Blueice.
Next, they headed for the tunnel behind the statue with the broken stick,
were a course in world history was taught to the newcomers, in order to clarify
to them both were they were and what was actually going on. Before Sherry
asked to interrupt the class and speak in front of the hundreds of people seated
in the amphitheatre, he caught some snippets of the lecture,
“… as a result of the Treaty of South Water, the Miqhuns lost any
sympathy that we should have for them. They accepted the terms, and
knowingly get their hands dirty, doing most of the fieldwork in the operation of
getting you here. They will claim that they are the victims, that divisions of the
Woshun and Wergethory families keep them in check under military law, but
the truth is that they enjoy safety and economic privileges in exchange for their
services. The military presence in ‘their land’, as it belongs to the Lavonian
Association, is nothing but police work, nothing worse than the one back in
Lanvos. In conclusion, in spite of thousands of years of servitude, the Miqhun
always profited and prospered from it, being better than if left alone. They are
more guilty than the average living person, as they know what they are doing
and see themselves as ‘freeing us from slavery’ by imprisoning us to this
boring, desolate land. The truth is, they put themselves over you. They don’t
care about you, they don’t care what is right, they are selfish, looking after
themselves and themselves only! They are just as bad as the government, their
treason and lack of empathy towards any of you must be punished accordingly.
As such, it is not considered an offence to kill any non-honorific Blueice
Miqhun you might see. Some thought, like the teacher of Miqhun language, are
honorary Blueice members, as they helped us by telling us the history and their
point of view. These people are good people and are on slightly lower footing
then the rest of us. It is an offense punished by death to harm such a person.
Now, Sherril Blueice, a leader of a patrol, (we’ll get to that lesson in a few
hours) has an announce to make!” the teacher monologued and then gave Sherry
the megaphone she was using to make herself heard.
Sherry spread the news of the revolution there too, but had less support
than at the Interrogation Office. Those people had already gone through the
process of teaching and were more devoted to the community. Still, her mission
was only to announce. By the time the lesson would be finished in a day of
continuous explanation in which the students weren’t allowed to leave, many
would remember her call at arms and join.
The next stop was the breathing heart of activity at Blueice. Going up a
spiral vertical staircase carved into the wall of the lecture room, they were led to
the top of the glacier, from where Sherry led the way for a few hundred meters
until they reached a massive crater that looked like a mere dent in the overall
blank white landscape, in spite of its enormous size.
Aidan slid down and observed the surroundings while Sherry was
evangelizing her revolution. Among them, he could see the purpose it served. It
was a community centre. He saw newcomers talk and train, while artisans were
smelting metals, crafting hammers and other weapons with their hands. There
were walls of different thicknesses the trainees had to pass through. It helped
them learn just how large of an obstacle they could skip over. The rule of the
thumb he noticed was that if they could step past it, they could go through it, but
it was impossible to swim through a solid substance, even in a state of perfect
transcorporalism. They also practiced it by having to hold a weapon while at the
same time letting an incoming attack go through their elbow. Many beginners
either dropped the hammers when dogging the hit, by making their entire body
transcorporal, or got hit by the weapon, unable to turn off the interaction with
the physical world on a selected part of their body.
 “Concentrate! It’s all about concentration and willpower! Think of the
how you felt when you discovered there is no mansion here. Think of how the
Lavonians lied to you! Think of how your own Househead considered you
trash, disposable, and sent you here to rot away in the frozen nothingness!” he
overhead one instructor advice a trainee. “Concentrate that feeling of retribution
and try to feel it not in your heart, but your elbow. Redirect the flow of
willpower! Now, let’s do it again!”
The instructor took a knife and tried to stab her elbow, but the blade went
through as it there was nothing by air in its way.
“That’s it! How let’s try again! This time the shoulder!” he congratulated
the student’s progress.
Aidan could also observe more difficult techniques being taught and
practiced. There was an instructor holding a slab of half-melted ice in front of a
student. His warmth made him leave a footprint in the floor of the crater, and he
easily made his first transcorporal and inserted his arm in the slab. Now came
the difficult part. He had to regain his interaction with the material world while
his arm was in the slate. He had difficulty, so the instructor advised him,
“C’mon! Concentrate! Focus your desire to escape, focus your desire for
a normal life, focus your desire to return home and break this! From the inside
out!”
The student let out a groan, but easily regained his ability to interact with
the world, dislocating the volume of ice his hand took and sending flying shards
of glass in all directions.
“Good! Very good!” the trainer complimented his efforts. “If you’re not
too mentally tired, we’ll get some fresh, hard, and thicker ice, to see if you can
break it. Then we’ll move onto metal tomorrow.”
“Bring it on! I want to bend the metal of the ship that took me here! I
want to sink it! I want to be ready when that day comes!” he responded, asking
for more and more from the trainer. Sherry inserted herself very nicely in their
discussion and promised him that he was lucky enough that the day had come.
Others weren’t as lucky, unable to explode the slate into pieces and
having their arms stuck in them or not able to do it in the first place. Aidan was
terrified at the prospect of a human being taking the place of the plates and
cubes of ice. It would certainly kill almost anyone to have a hand insert itself in
one’s lungs or dislocating their heart. The potential for killing and destruction
was unthinkable.
 Once they had mastered the martial arts to different degrees, there were
different form of entertainment one could participate in. Going around the buzz
and agitation of the crater, Aidan saw dancer and duel taking full advantage of
their abilities. Dogging an attack by letting the sword pass through you while
attacking, or letting yourself stabbed on purpose so that you could get the sword
or hammer stuck in you and thus disarm the opponent, which was the ultimate
goal of the duel, besides having fun while practicing killing skills. There were
also obstacle races people could compete in, with ice blocks craved in weird
shapes to pose a challenge. They were made of clear frozen water, so that the
spectators could see through the blocks the poses the racers were forced to get
into to be able to pass through. Some were as simple as throwing oneself in the
middle of the block, the only place that was thin enough to be passable, while
others were claustrophobic labyrinths inside massive chunks, requiring
cunningness on the part of the participant to get through.
There were also the few select craftsmen and women, using their fingers
to create objects of art from scrap metal at the request of the ‘buyer’. Currency
wasn’t a part of this place’s non-existent economy. The pay for the effort and
the art was in power. Building up a name for yourself by mastering a craft or
winning races, battling duels non-stop, acquiring fame that could be used to
sway the public opinion. That’s how many of the so-called officials or leaders
were elected and tolerated to have authority over their peers, but never was their
word greater than the will of the community.
Besides that, there were others that put their abilities in selective
transcorporalism to productive use, instead of destructive. These were the
people using their own fingers and ability to dislocate and chop ice to create
busts on command or other decorative objects. The resulting cuts were generally
sharp, because of the unprecise nature of chopping away from the inside out, so
gentle warmth was applied on the edges to smoothen the surface and then with a
hand-smelted needle or chisel, they added the details that were too small to be
crafted by bare hands.
Aidan was particularly fascinated by a technique which resulted in balls
of ice having liquid water on the inside. Once the artist got their hand in a
chiselled ball of ice, they focused to create heat and slowly melt the sphere from
the inside out, but stopping before reaching the surface. The result was a
translucent, glass-like globe with ice inside. If kept in a protected environment,
like one of the cave-houses, the water inside would not refreeze and stay liquid
for longer periods of time. He asked and received a smaller type, one that he
could hold using his sleeves as improvised gloves. The amiability and
friendliness of the artist, the system of moneyless reward based on reciprocal
help, sustained on a foundation that everyone was following their passion, was
alien and scared him.
For him, the ice ball was more than an ice ball. It was a symbol. A
symbol of an unnatural world, were there was no compulsion into doing
anything. There was no Househead to choose your tutor, to chose your job, to
dictate when you should marry, with whom, how many children you should
have, when you could visit your family, how much work you had to do, when
you get to retire. There was none of it, it was… Almost a paradise, almost too
good to be true. This ball was crafted by the fuel of hatred, resentment and angst
yet it was beautiful, gentle and fragile.
“This… this can’t be true. I will keep this ball… it was created by
something so fundamentally wrong and ugly, by a desire for destruction, yet
look at it… The product of a place where there is no forcing, were people are
ruled by themselves, the way they want… something so small and cute, yet
isolated in the frigid cold… It’s beautifully ironic, I might say!” he thought, as
he kept the ball to himself.
After having spent there about two hours, roaming around the seemingly
endless crater, the two finally headed for the Info Centre.
“And how do you like the place? There’s not much else public stuff to
show you, except if we head along the Façade. You saw the relief sculpture of a
lost battle. That’s the Fourth Great Revolt shown there, but if we head West, I
can show you similar ones, of the Fifth Great Revolt and the Sixth, at which I
took part! You’ll see the place where I sculpted myself there. There’ll also be
some Hugh Blueice the Only quotes carved into the Façade.” Sherry told him
that the tour was almost over.
“You mean the Hugh guy, the one you all seem to be quoting? What’s up
with him?” Aidan asked innocently, not knowing what he had done wrong when
Sherry put her hand over his mouth to stop him from talking and then looked
worried all around at the people next to them in the crater. She noticed a pair of
Partners looking at them strangely, to whom she explained.
“Please, forgive him, he’s new and breathing, ask around you’ll find
someone that knows of the trial that took place, if you’re wondering what’s
going on. Don’t worry, he’s not Lavonian, but the lavons sent him here
nonetheless.” she pleaded, trying to avoid another trail.
“Honourless bastards! They didn’t commit murder like this before!” one
of them said to the other.
 “Indeed, they had the decency to murder-suicide the political enemies
before…What a crazy world we live in! At least we’ll show them this time! A
time with no treason has come, may the Seventh Great Revolt be successful!”
she said to her Partner and Sherry.
“Speaking of which… you look familiar…” the other one squinted her
eyes, not having to, but doing it either way.
“Yes, I organise it! I’m the patrol leader that took the ship, you might
have heard of me…” Sherry was pleased to see they forgot about Aidan.
“Woah!” one said and cut a piece of ice out of the floor. “Can you sign
this for me? I want a memento of the leader that will fulfil Hugh Blueice the
Only’s predictions!”
Sherry took the slate and burned an enprint of her hand into it.
“That is… if you’re not a traitor, in which case you’re holding all of us
back and killing all that go to battle in your name!” the other one was sceptical,
and Sherry ended her relaxed state.
“C’mon, Amanda, you can’t just accuse her of something like that! All
the signs are here, Hugh Blueice the Only promised, ‘I will give you means to
fight and free yourselves, there will be no traitors of fate, I will save you and the
enemy will shake in fear at the sight of us, for we will win!’. This man is a tool
of His, he got us the ship, he can’t be a traitor. And she can’t be a traitor,
because a traitor would have sunk the ship. If the Revolt fails, someone else will
betray us!” Joly jumped in Sherry’s defence.
“I can promise you I am no traitor! People have known me for hundreds
of years here I took part in the Fifth and Sixth Great Revolt, I am a veteran
dedicated to getting us out of here! Ask anyone that knows me! By the fact that
you don’t I guess you must be new.”
“Well… Yes, I’m here for thirty years only.” Amanda admitted. “Alright,
I’ll ask around. If what you say is true, I am sure you’re not a traitor. May He be
with us!” she gave her goodbyes and the four departed.
“Oq, what was that? What’s up with the guy?” Aidan insisted.
“I better tell you before you get us killed.” Sherry concluded. “I’m giving
you the official version. When we get some privacy, I might tell you otherwise.”
she whispered as not to be heard, and then continued on a normal voice. “He’s
the man that first took initiative and captured a ship, leading us into the First
and Glorious Great Revolt. He was defeated when one of his sub-officers sold
the position of the ship to the Lavonians, who send warships to the unarmed
ship led by us. We only wanted to reach the shore and ask questions, but they
sank the ship and it went down with the Artefacts of everyone aboard. You can
still hear them scream under the ice shelf, unable to get to the shore. He was
wise, and his words and predictions were carved in ice to be forever
remembered for generations to come.”
“But then, why are the quotes so different? That girl was quoting what the
Scavenger quoted too, but she was paraphrasing.” Aidan asked perplexed by the
contradiction, “How come his words are so important that are carved in ice but
paraphrased without regard for the original?”
“Too many questions.” she told him and the whispered again out of a
breath, “Just take it as it is, I don’t believe this shit.” and then finished out loud,
“The idea is, you have to call him by the full name, otherwise you are
committing severe disrespect for him, our cause, and the dead. It goes so that
nobody else can have that name here, and all Hughs are supposed to change
their name. Hence, ‘the Only’ part.”
“Aha… So, for each of the failed revolts, the same problem was seen as
responsible for the failure, right? Each and every time, it was treason!” Aidan
guessed rightly.
“You have a brain, wow! Applause everybody!” she told to no-one.
“That’s utter bullshit!” Aidan thought and looked at the ball. “I think I’ll
call you ‘Hypo’… That’s fitting!” he spoke in his mind to the ball. “For
hypothermia and hypocrisy! The punishment for lying is death, a teacher can be
killed for sharing a controversial opinion, nobody even said what lie he was
accused of saying… But Sherry gets away with lying about me, everyone is fine
with paraphrasing and there is a total disregard for truth when it comes to… I
don’t know… is it a religion? There is no religion in Lanvos, only mythos! How
primitive! And these people cheered when Sherry told them the that their
system of government was better than the one back home. These people lost all
notion of trade, value, worth, of class, of supply and demand, of the scale of
administering a large region… For them everything is local, homemade and
they can’t see… This is ridiculous! These people are… insane! Blind! They’re
all… crazy, batshit crazy, mentally disordered! But is it their fault…? A
criminally insane person isn’t guilty in the way a sane person is…” the
compassionate side of him rose up, but he supressed it. “No. Some things are
not excusable. The Cleasings are not excusable. This people’s stupidity is not
understandable. There are things that are just wrong, some things that are
entirely the fault of the doer… Are there?” he gave up questioning himself for a
moment as he now had to climb up the slope of the crater.
Eventually they got to the Info Centre behind the statue with the heart
pulled out. It was the humblest place visited so far, only a crowded medium-
sized room where a few volunteers were conversing with about three hundred
ghosts, many wailing and mourning, unable to express their sadness fully with
their dry eyes, warming up the air in the room with their nervousness. The cries
were reflecting in the cave, echoing in a chamber of weeps.
“It doesn’t look very bright to me.” Aidan commented on the looks of the
situation.
“Shh… Let me try to get these guys to mobilize and then we get to you.”
Sherry set him aside and started imposing her voice over the lamenting voices
with a colder call than the walls around her.
Aidan saw that some joined her and came closer, but the vast majority,
about two hundred or so, segregated from her group, standing as far as possible,
by the walls. They didn’t look up to the other group, but talked among
themselves or stayed alone. Occasionally though, one or two shouted back at the
rest,
“Goeth away! Wherefore art thee he’e? Which manner alloweth thee t’be
o’ such insensitive nature?”
“Hey! Such speech is an insult here! You know what happens to people
who banter our language and values?!” Sherry fought back viciously, raising her
voice to such levels that Aidan had chills crawl up his spine.
The reply from the others was a general defence in fear of retribution,
aggressive in the face of their powerlessness.
That’s when Sherry changed her attitude around, with a soft, feline-like
calm and calculated tone saying, “What’s up with the fear? Who put it there?
Why are you afraid? Did Olivia scare you with her boring speech? Do you think
we just randomly murder people, punish horribly, without compassion, without
fairness? No. I asked you if you knew happens to people who banter our
language and values. Well, I’m telling you, that you are wrong. Plainly wrong.
Flat-out mistaken, I might add.”
Scared sighs of uncertain relief were let out one after the other, Sherry
having hooked their attention. One could see in her eyes a satisfaction akin to
the fisherman’s thrill of capturing an oblivious, defenceless fish.
 “Think of it. Look into your heart. Why are you afraid? Tell me of a place
where people are just murdered on the spot just like that. Name one, I dare you.
I wager my Artefact on it.” she encouraged some introspection in the audience.
Silence ensued and her satisfaction level rose up through the ceiling, a
smile growing on her face.
“I’ll tell you. You were afraid not because you thought that we would just
hurt you for no reason. You don’t know us! That’s why you projected your fears
from another source onto me, onto Blueice. You never knew any other judicial
system in your whole existence besides the one in Lanvos. Think about it. You
saw my words as a threat because that’s what you are used to. You are used to
being threatened by the living, even by your own descendants. They don’t care
about you, they only care about themselves. Never did they stop to think of just
how hurtful it is to be accused of not respecting their luxury, that your services
are not good enough, that you are disposable, that you are not good enough!
You lived in fear of insulting a living person, of not speaking a fake language to
them, of not acting perfectly around them! Who are they to demand such
perfection from you? You see that they don’t care. You found out just that some
of your family is not here, or that members were killed or died. They did so to
fight for freedom, to fight for equality, to fight for justice! And those who
didn’t… Are they any better? Are they any better than the ones that instil fear in
your heart? Fear of disrespect? Constant anxiousness, constant excellence!” she
gradually rose her voice, intensifying her voice and gestures as she approached
the end to an almost maniacal enumeration of crimes, after which she returned
to her relaxed, seductive voice.
“No… we, we at Blueice… we are better! We forgive! There are second
chances given! I won’t do anything to you. I have empathy! I have compassion,
I can put myself in your place! I’m not a Lavonian blaming you for slipping a
little extra salt much in your soup; I am better. I realise that you spoke in
Lavonian Tongue because you were distressed; because you were lost,
confused, and thought that we are just as bad as the people that lied to you and
discarded you in the middle of nowhere, like trash. And I forgive you! We are
better! This… this is the new world, honey… a better world!” she singled out
the one that spoke up.
There were some murmurs between some of them and at the end of her
little address, she attracted more followers. Now there were only a hundred
people opposing her, all part of a loose group. The loners mostly came to her as
well as some in smaller groups, thus only the roots of the opposers remaining
separate. The branches of a leafless tree, the skeleton of an idea.
 Sherry didn’t focus more on them. She turned to her followers and
detailed her revolution, exaggerating the certain details,
“Yes, there is no shadow of a doubt that this is the time. This is the
moment to shine! This is the beginning of the end of the suffering at the
Icetowers! There is no way that anything could go wrong! The ship is
unsinkable, the sea is calm this time of the year and the waters are safe. We will
make it to the shore. No civilians will be hurt. We will spread the message and
minimize the hurt we will inflict. Only those that actively oppose us will have
anything to worry about! People are being lied to, they are innocent, I am sure
that once the truth gets out, they will join us and ask for forgiveness! And don’t
let anyone outside tell you otherwise. They like to exaggerate, don’t take them
seriously if you hear people saying they’ll go on a murder rampage. That’s what
they think, but nobody has the guts to do that! They’re just hurt and vulnerable,
like you were! Nevermind them.” She said to her followers.
She was saying this while having her back turned to the rest, knowing
that a small army of eyes were stabbing her from the back, listening carefully
and paying attention. This was her plan all along. It was more effective to let
their minds convince themselves that they were losing, that they were
segregated, that they were missing out. It was better than actively trying to
convince them of the message. And as proof, by the time her attention turned to
Aidan to help him discover his family, there were only fifty or so people that
left in disappointment and disagreement.
For the entire of her small lecture, Aidan wanted to scream. He wanted to
burst his lungs out and call out her lies, her hypocrisy, to expose her techniques
of manipulation, to smudge her own bullshit across her face. It was the same
call to action he felt when he decided to take over the ship. An almost senseless
undiscovered rage, a call to make right and rectify the wrongdoings.
“No! No, stop… this… this is not the time!” he looked at the medallion
he was carrying around for her. “It would be so easy to break this, to smash it
into pieces, to disintegra… no, stop it, no, no, no!” he kept himself from action,
squatting to keep himself from jumping on her. He disguised pulling his hair
with other moves so that he looked like he was trying to warm up. In actuality,
he was inflicting some pain in order to take his mind off his instincts.
“I won’t let this happen again… I won’t! She… it. It is my only ‘ally’…
without her… without it, I would die here. These fuckers are crazy. It is my
only change of getting out. My only chance… my only chance to do…” the
nihilist in him struck again, not a single future plan coming to his mind. But this
time, he kept his composure and deflected the attack with one swift sentence,
“Something! My only chance to do… something! I don’t know what,
but… but this Something is what I want. Something is what I fight for… I just
want Something, but the people here would give me nothing. I… have to work
with the lowest scum in history to save my ass, my selfish ass! Serf-preservation
is wrong in this one! It is strong in you! It is strong in me! I… I have to let her
pass, I… Aidan, shut up! Now is the time to do nothing. Do nothing, just shut
and keep breathing, oq?” he pulled the skin on his cheeks and the slapped
himself to ‘get the blood flowing’ and then stood up, having calmed down.
That’s when he noticed that he had dropped Hypo the Ball and picked it
up. For a few more minutes he just starred at it. He saw in it so much more than
water in an ice ball. It was… everything. It was everything about around him. It
was Sherry and her tactics of manipulation, it was the glorious statues, it was
the victims around him, the arts of war and arts of creation. It made the hands of
irony force a smile on his face.
“Now, Eddie, let’s see what we can do for you.” Sherry started. “Nine,
what do you know of Farefax? Do we have some around here? I sure don’t
know of any…”
“Um… Farefax? Let me see…” she replied and then started singing the
song that she used as a mnemonic device, “…Farewell Farebell, Faregael, Farrel
and Farehair! The ship left and now we’re left with Farehill and Faremon
sleeping under the sun!” and then she stopped, concluding that there was no
Farefax in the settlement. “I’m sorry! Let me ask Shawn, he might know
something I don’t.”
“Hm… there were some guys from that family that ended up here. Let me
see.” And then he started humming his own little song and came with some
news, “Yeah! We had a total of six persons with that name. All descendants of
Cedric Farefax, son of Aelfred Ac, born in 1106 after the lavon War of
Conquest. The six came over a period of about three hundred years, the last one
arriving here 312 years ago. That’s all I can say. Are you interested in more
details? Olga might know more about them, like names, maybe a short bio, that
stuff.” he recited.
Aidan realised the system they had put in place there, each person
memorizing different part of knowledge, the full picture being visible only to
the ear that could listen to all of their voices.
“Um… what do you mean ‘were some guys’?” he inquired.
 “Well… It’s simple. All died or went missing by the Sixth Great Revolt,
may Hugh Blueice the Only avenge their sacrifice. I forgot to say that, I thought
it was obvious. My colleague over there is a general index of every family name
that lives here. I, for my part, keep the memory of extinct families alive. There
aren’t that many, so I also keep in mind some basic info on their numbers,
extinction, arrival and so on. My colleague over there knows the names of all
the dead from A to E, that one from F to J and so. Same system for the living,
different memorizers.”
Aidan realised the redundancy of asking why they wrote nothing in the
ice and kept his mouth shut on the matter, only opening it to verify a hypothesis,
“I suppose Cedric’s branch fell off and caught roots of its own?”
“In 99% of such cases, yes.” Shawn reassured him, patting him on the
shoulder. “I see you’re not a retard… impressive! Good catch, Sherry!”
“Nice!” she exclaimed jovially, throwing her hands in the air with a
morbid enthusiasm, “Now you know everybody is dead! Can we get over it? I
want to go and supervise some of my subordinates…”
“B-but… that makes no sense… My family was sent here 35 years ago,
almost everybody at once.”
“Woah, big surprise! Imagine my shock!” she revealed her plan to
indifference and playing dumb. “As if this white desert isn’t hundreds of
kilometres across… maybe they are at another settlement, or most likely,
they’re all gone for good, yada yada yada! Nobody knows how. Most likely
war, suicide, or they had Artefacts destroyed by the frost. Now we move on!”
And she proceeded to led the way back, leaving him with nothing but a
silent sign of conformed, a faded ‘yeah…’ of defeated hopelessness.
Outside the crowd was still listening to some announcements and some
trials, while others were mobilising, going to and from their caves to bring
objects and prepare for the mission. The bustling and hustling, the rapidly
beating drum of activity and flow has… repulsive. Aidan found them all
disgusting. Never in his life had he imagined such a place with such people
could exist.
“Maybe… just maybe… I-I think this world, it deserves to die. If the
planet exploded tomorrow, there would be little to no loss. Lanvos… is rotten to
the core, unchangeable and unredeemable. The people there are no good, and
they can’t change it, these beasts cannot change it without mass genocide.
Nobody would change their life to accommodate them. The vast majority would
simply not care. The Cleansings might just go fully public. Give the ‘retired’ the
option to come here or just kill themselves, same thing. Nothing would change.
The Miqhuns… what is there to say of them? At least they are honest in
admitting they are doing this, but that doesn’t excuse shit. Spineless to the core,
living at the whims authority, folding with the blowing wind, dancing the song
of the murderer. And these… what word would fit them? I guess they are
victims to a degree, but they don’t act like it. Just when I think of the values
they hold… I want to bulge out my eyes. I want to shut off my brain and go to
sleep. Not one thing they have created is worthwhile, not one thing would fly
under tension from opposition. This reminds me of the protesters in Centre 1…
It’s been so long since I saw them with my eyes, but I can see their peaceful
spirit die. I did see a glimpse of their destructive side that night. I agree, Lanvos
sucks, it is corrupt, but… I don’t trust you. I just can’t. The Smoke Riots, the
revolutionary, segregationist spirit… I was a fool to think for a split second that
we wanted the same general things.” he was thinking as he followed Sherry’s
lead, ghosts passing through him, but without tinkles this time. It was just like
passing through thick fog, an obstacle only in his mind.
The sound of their chatter felt like it was being amplified in the walls of
his skull, reflecting on its surface, sending a more and more distorted version of
the same indistinguishable words, a symphony of horror inaudible from the
outside. He could no longer take it and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Hey, Sherry… I… I don’t feel so good, this noise… it-it troubles me.
This… it’s like picking at a sore, I don’t know how to describe it. I just want
some silence; I want some piece of mind!” he called her, holding his ears and
looking down as to not make eye contact with these creatures all around him.
“What? Shut up, it’s only in your head! This noise isn’t that loud or
annoying, stop being a bitch!” she refuted his call for help.
“Well, the stress you suffer is also only in your head.” he calmly replied
and the burst out with a voluminous raise of tone, “So where the fuck can I go
and have some damn privacy?! Doomsland, leave me alone for two damned
minutes, you-” he stopped himself before it went too far, but continued in his
mind, “…you fucking homicidal, demagogue, worm-eating stalker!”
“Fine! Go that direction, West!” she snapped back, almost punching him
and then chilling down, “I can’t relate, so just… Ugh! Just stay in the kilometre
radius, fine?”
“Then why can’t I just give this medallion to someone else, if that’s your
problem?” he read through her reply.
 “We don’t do that here and I don’t want legal trouble. Besides, I can’t just
hand it to someone, people got their own problems and shit to do, they can’t just
follow me around… Unless they are a Partner, of course.” she explained the
custom and then he left.
Aidan came out of the cloud of people in a rush, moving each step fuelled
by the desire to put some distance between him and them. He went past the ship
statue and some other fighting colossi until he reached the relief of the Fifth
Great Revolt over the curve of the glacier. Now he could no longer see them
and the mild wind covered the sound of their voices.
It was just him with himself, just a person and the vastness of nature. He
squatted with his back to the statues and looked at the ice shelf covering the
shore and the Fierce Sea and took a good, quiet view at himself. He wanted to
see himself independently, to view himself for what he really was and really
believed. And he saw the black and red tunic he was wearing.
“Red and black?” he asked himself, remembering clearly that he wore
black and white. “Where did this… oh, I see.” and then the gravity of the fact
caught up to his conscious self, “Doomsland, I see!”
He was scared of himself now. He looked at himself with disgust, staying
for days soaked in the blood of the crew, in the blood of the captain. It was a
memento that took him back to yesterday’s fatal morning.
“No, this can’t be! Impossible… This is not me! F-for so long, all this
time, nobody bated an eye? Nobody said anything, everybody either didn’t care
or was perfectly fine with me going around, soaked in blood? What kind of
people are they? They… they are not people! And Sherry knew! It knew, but It
just went along? I beg It enjoyed the sight, It’s more twisted than an actual
human’s intestines!”
A strong opposition sprung up in him, a hate for being transformed into
something he was not was brewing. He wanted an escape, to return to simpler
days, to be left alone. He realised he would have to take action to achieve it,
“I need a plan. I need to get out of here, but what then? What will I do? I
do not only lack a home, lack a people, but also lack… trust in this world. I see
the demagoguery and hypocrisy here, I see the lies and deception in Lanvos, I
see the dishonourable Miqhun… The Free Cities must be just as decadently
atrocious, no way their leaders don’t know what’s going on there… What’s left
in the world? The Dead Islands? If these people see them as allies, they are no
better. And I’d die there, no way I could find food on those rocks! Rhovna…
sweet poverty-stricken, corrupt Rhovnian Empire… no way! The Colony? At
least I have a chance of not working to death there, I mean, it’s only the likely
scenario.” and with blank wet eyes he looked into the white nothingness.
“Nothing… it’s so… It’s everywhere, it surrounds you… In a way it
almost hugs you, makes you feel comfortable in misery. How peculiar.” he
whipped the soon-to-be-icicle tear. “Nowhere… that’s my home. I belong to
nowhere. I am not tied to anyone. It’s only me, free to decide in which
detestable corrupt shithole I can nest in. I have no chains… I own nothing to
anyone but myself, I live on the work on no-one but myself… So, if-if this is
how absolute freedom tastes like… I’d rather drink cyanide.” the warmth in his
eyes began cooling down, finding a sense of consolation only further down the
rabbit hole, deeper into the chasm.
“If I am worthless, for I can’t control my fate; if I live at the whims of
people like Sherry and the Miqhun mutineers, then… If I take into account the
world’s worthlessness, the world’s decaying corpse, everyone’s fight for
control, the mindless strife for power, because this is what it all is, then it
doesn’t matter. The world is just a piece of shit controlled by nothing but
struggle. We’re equally cheap, equally valueless!” an ironic smile frozen on his
face as his eyes looked down, holding back immeasurable disappointment.
“Why does it have to be like this? Why am I controlled by these beasts? I
cannot reduce them further on the scale of disgrace and dishonour. It’s not
fair… I can see past the victimhood mentality, I can see past their claims to
justice, I can see past their appeal to moral superiority… it’s pitiful, it’s just
makeup put on revenge. It is nothing more than that! Nothing! Lacks any real
substance, just a deep craving for retribution that should stop there, but it’s
never enough, is it? One does not just punch the enemy back; one defeats the
enemy! The victim card will suit them perfectly during the genocide she- I
mean It, wants to pursue!” his sarcasm surfaced. “If this is the future, if this is
how the world will look like… sign me off! Aidan, this is not a world you want
to live into. But if nobody matters and people that control fate do so out of sheer
disregard for any kind of order and merit… then I was wrong. Then it’s not only
that nothing really matters… anyone can see that; I didn’t see it when I talked
with the captain! Nobody matters too! I-if nothing matters, then there is no
power, nor respect, nor rules! If nobody matters there is nothing keeping people
where they are, and I can fight, I can climb up, I can take over control, but at the
same time… My efforts won’t matter… Just as the likes of these monsters! I
can throw my own dice!” he tried to make sense of the mess of contradictions
inside his head.
 “Throwing my own dice is what I did when I took over the ship, and look
where I am now… I-I don’t know… If nothing matters, why do I care that I live
or die? It has to be more than self-preservation! If nothing matters, why do I
care that these creatures are horrendous? If nothing matters, why do I care that
the crew was executed? Some of them wanted me dead, just like many of these
wildlings do, why do I care of them more than I do of these animals? Maybe…
I’m just wrong, maybe there’s something wrong about me… or…” the fog
dissipated in the shining light of a bright idea.
“You got it!” he told himself, “How could I have been so stupid?!
Nothing matters! That’s the answer!” he started laughing alone in the shadow of
the wind. “That’s the place it can’t get into! It can’t get into my head! It can
only go outside, but it can’t go inside! Ha-ha!” he said, laughing out loud so
hard his stomach started to hurt. “It’s all in my head! That’s the point! If
nothing matters, if everyone’s efforts are futile in the face of an infinite
Universe… than who’s to say that you should care of what the it has to say? The
nothingness and meaninglessness can only be outside your brain, you fool!
Doomsland, why didn’t I see this? It’s reciprocal! The Universe doesn’t care
about you… and you don’t care about it! Fuck it to the sun and beyond! Fuck its
rules! Fuck its logic! Fuck its actions, its fate, its everything! I care that these
people are genocidal lunatics… because I do! I don’t need to justify myself in a
world of chaos where nothing has any inherent purpose! I can just make my
own, nobody else has to accept it and nobody can take it away from me! In a
world of pure, absolute chaos… There is no perspective to see than chaos from!
In a world of pure anarchy, if you decide to view disorder as your standard for
order… There is no rule to contradict you. Sure, you can’t impose that point of
view, but do you want to impose it on others, Aidan?” he asked himself.
“Well… Fuck it, yeah, I do! In a certain way, of course.” he replied to his
own question. “In a world with no meaning, I will give it one! I shouldn’t have
whined in sorrow that life has no meaning, that my actions are futile and I just
float in a sea of randomness and chance, I-I should’ve proclaimed my freedom!
I should’ve cheered that I am free! There is no reason to abstain, no reason to
justify myself, no motive behind respecting something I disagree with!
Whatever I do, if I feel I am just, I am! This life is worthless, but in my head, it
can have value! Without control over my destiny, with futile actions, with
irrelevant thoughts and as such non-sensical conclusions… I can become my
own moral compass! What I think is what is! I am free! I cannot be freer than
my own man, my own prisoner! And I declare I have one mission, one thing I
want to achieve, one dream! To destroy these fuckers! I will sabotage their
audience, I will not let them get to destroy and kill innocents, that will never
happen as long as I’m alive! I have something to live for! She- I mean It, will
not stop me! Not It, nor any fiend!”
With so much energy and vigour in his veins that it kept his blood
flowing freely through his body in spite of the cold, he got up and decided to
walk around the statues aimlessly, because why not, enjoying the broken chains
of logic and reason.
The wind stopped blowing strongly and became a mild chill twirling
around everything, but true silence didn’t come. There was something else
besides his footsteps. Something more echoed, like a hum playing out of a
broken stereo, some indiscernible sounds coming from everywhere. Aidan
noticed them and moved left and right for tens of meters, without the sound
fading. When he rested his legs by sitting down a second, that’s when the
unconceivable became real. The sound got louder. He bounced off the snow like
an elastic ball and pulled his sleeves, digging into the snow. He went deeper
than his footsteps, he kept on relentlessly shoving the snow out of the way, like
a dog tracing the scent of the mole and digging for it. His sheltered fingers acted
like two reliable ice cream scoops until he eventually reached the ice underneath
the snow at about 20 centimetres in. With each scoop of snow, the sound
became clearer and more amplified, the buzzing noise turning into a clearer and
clearer deep and faded moan of lament.
He fixed his eyes on the patch of ice he could see. It was an
amalgamation of a myriad of imperfections. Cracks running over bubble
clusters, portions more transparent than others, some fully opaque, of a boring
white, unlike the deep blue of the statues. He enlarged the hole so that he could
get his head closer to the frozen liquid and hopefully make up what it was. It
sounded like it could be a wounded seal, but that didn’t explain why it could be
hear everywhere. As he approached the surface, a shadow of colour like a
flower tapped from down below the bottomless chasm, a flower with 5 petals.
He blinked to clear his eyes and better looked at the eerily familiar shape. When
he opened his eyes to see a mirroring second colourful shape appear from
underneath, followed by a mindless shriek, compressed by the packed ice into a
deep groan.
Aidan got his head out of the hole faster than lightning shoots out for the
ground and then silence ensued. His heart stood still in the wake of the
discovery.
“What? H-h-how? Why? Uh… What the actual fuck?!” he thought before
asking on a dim, anxious voice, “A-are you…? Um…” but then he changed his
mind, realising the answer was obvious, so he switched to the second thing that
came to mind, “How did you… um…” he gave up on that too, thinking it
wouldn’t be sensible to ask something like that at the moment. “How can I help
you?” he asked between his teeth with a lack of confidence.
A morbid curiosity pushed him forward to take a sneak-peak when
nothing was said in response. He slowly got the hole in his field of vision until
he saw something unexpected. It wasn’t a man, it was a humanoid figure,
completely black, like a tri-dimensional shadow. It wasn’t fully human though,
having no discernible facial feature, just a blank black slate for a face and thin
palm membranes between the fingers. It had no mouth and yet it was capable of
speech, which he did in an archaic way.
“Leoht! Leoht! Ha-ha!” the shadow initially shouted, rejoicing something
Aidan could not understand. Then he was silent as he tried to climb up out of
the hole, letting out a grunt when he failed and saying, “Ascieascige, cwelest
mec, leof! Ic ne canst becume!” the man yelled, sticking his arms out of the
hole, the head still inside, incapable of going further.
“What?!” Aidan asked, shocked at hearing a foreign language here.
“Canst thou understandeth me?”
“Hwaet? Ic can hwaet?” the man replied instinctively and then put some
thought and came up with an understandable question.
“I am where? I ne can go up! Morder me! Do one way!! I am far, too far,
I ne can…” the voice started dying, growing more and more light and faded.
Aidan didn’t know what to do or how to react and stayed silent, taking a
few steps back and keeping his eyes on the hand sticking out.
“Seofon gear… Seven years I melted away the ice, fifteen feet of ice…
For what? I… I am out of breath. 5 thumbs… 5 thumbs in a few seconds… I…
Ic ne can…” and then the body fell down the hole, sucked in by the vacuum of
the ocean below.
Silence didn’t return. Similar voices stayed, still everywhere, below his
feet, to his right, to his left, behind him and under his nose, a broken disc on a
jukebox repeating the same ominous morbid lament of pain. Between all of
them, a few stood out tall and proud with their clarity while three pairs of hand-
like structures emerged from the depths. They were not static and solid, but
shrunk an enlarged in different parts, creating shadow waves rippling along the
arms and fingers. The colours differed too. One of them was just like the
previous, pure black in a state of rippling, while the other two were of a lighter,
uniform colour, having no variation whatsoever, keeping the same colour across
the flow rolling up with clockwork precision, ignoring all light physics. The
colour was so even that there were no wrinkles visible. There were no nails or
hair on any of them and the articulations worked differently, the palms bending
at sharp unusual angles or in the wrong direction and doing so in inappropriate
places.
Yet still, nobody could get out of the hole fully, the record being held by
someone that managed to get the upper half of their body up. The person had
hair, unlike others, but it didn’t follow the usual laws of gravity, like every other
human’s he ever saw, ghosts included. The hair was moving like algae at the
body of the sea, defying gravity in having it stand straight up, perpendicular to
the head. The face was a rough sketch of an actual human’s, having entirely
brown eyes, without any white or a black iris, just brown. The nose was shrunk
and didn’t have any nostrils, and the mouth lacked lips. The colour of the upper
body was that of clothes, yet the person was naked, as if the skin absorbed the
pigments of the clothes. Yet there were no lines on the body and no pores, just a
perfectly smooth red, green and blue.
They all panted with their voice and mourned nonsensical mumblings in
the same foreign language. Yet, there was no movement with their chest and did
so without opening their mouth. Aidan couldn’t stop looking at them, but was
frozen in place, unable to do anything.
“What the fuck have you done?!” someone’s voice could be heard from
the above his head, of all places.
“I… there were these screams… and… who are these people? And who
are you?!” he looked up, shaking in horror and saw nothing but the clear light
blue sky.
Then he heard a sound similar to something falling on a plush cushion
and turning his back, saw two people dressed in seal skin clothes landing next to
the ice glacier cliff. One of them rushed at him and phased through his body,
emerging on the other side.
“He’s breathing!” the woman that just send shivers through his body
cried in shock, seeing how Aidan was trying to control himself.
“Well, ‘tis ain’t no run-o’-the-mill catch now, am I right?” the man on the
other side asked, clapping through his gloves and faking a laugh.
“Be careful, remember what happened the last time you said that…” she
warned him and started going in circles around Aidan.
 “Who can forget the South Shore incident? We shoulda known that was
too good of a catch for two handy-bags like us to get our paws on.”
Aidan noticed that as the woman went, the man did the same in an
opposite direction so as to go in circles around him while always being at 180
degrees from each other.
“What is going on?! Who are these people!?” Aidan asked himself and then
noticed that they started acting more aggressive. They had both bent their knees
like felines ready for assault and leant a little forward. The image of an
unavoidable attack was completed by their spreading of their arms out and
frowning of their eyebrows, revealing more of the tattoos underneath their eyes.
“Who are you? What do you want?!” Aidan yelled out loud, his voice
cracking at the second ‘you’. It was clear for all now that he failed this
intimidation game and he prepared for the worst, getting his hands in a
defensive position while doing his best to keep track of these two people.
“Damn, that was pathetic! I’m screwed…” he thought.
Then it happened. In a fraction of a second, the woman launched herself
towards him and the man did the same. Aidan covered his head and closed his
eyes in the fright of the moment, his heart frozen with dread. A single thought
ran through his mind on a loop,
“This is how I die? Is this how it ends? Doomsland! This is how I die?!”
And then nothing happened. At first, he though that his mind was playing
tricks on him, slowing down time in moments of danger. But then nothing
happened again and this time he was surer of himself. Opening his eyes, he
didn’t see the seal skin hunters. The same two pair of eyes were now possessed
by two different faces… dressed in clear Lavonian Tunic medical attire.
“We? I am Doctor-in-Chief Rosenburn Klipf of Cassan, the most
renowned physician in all of Lanvos. I have treated everyone of the living
descendants of the high families! Wushon, Wergethory, Freedomfighter,
Keyssure, Ballezacque, you name it!”
“And I am his wife, Pagadana Rhovnaswi! I am the trainer of the elite
Imperial Health Department, keeping the succession line of the Glorious and
Utmost Holy, Smiled-upon-by-the-Gods, Imperial Clan of the Rhovnian
Empire! With these two hands I saved the life of Zvadabuluk himself when he
fell ill of the Faithless Night of Bewitchment!”
“B-but… no, then…” Aidan mumbled, for a second doubting that he had
the same people by his sides. Still, it was impossible for them to have switched
places and the eyes were just the same… same spirit and an ounce of
compassion. That’s when he realised that even the hunters didn’t have any
malevolence in their essence. “Were you wearing beneath those skins these?
And where is your tattoo gone? Where have the skins gone?” he asked them,
still afraid, doing his best to keep a distance by keeping his raised arms towards
them as if holding on a barrier.
“Skins? Tattoos? I don’t know what he’s talking about…” the man said,
looking as perplexed as a math student first encountering calculus.
“Maybe he’s met the two Masters of Ice, The-Seal-Marksman and The-
Lady-of-the-Waves! Did they have tattoos under their eyes, each pierced and
painted spot on their skin representing another capture of animals?” the woman
asked.
“Well, the tattoo was under the eye…” Aidan replied.
As if struck by lightning, the man knew what Aidan was speaking about.
“So, you’ve met the legendary hunters that learned to speak with the seals? Is it
true that their eyes can see a shrimp from a mile away? Are their chants not able
to summon the spirit of the Eternal Hunting Bear? The two that need no spears,
for their speed and skill would be limited by such primitive tools?”
Aidan realised that these two doctors must be the hunters. It was hard to
believe, but there was no other explanation. He turned to the man and said that
he did see them. Then he started cheering their achievement again, mentioning
how they swam from the Doomsland at the bottom of the ocean and back with
the help of the Prince of Whales. Aidan then turned to the woman, but he didn’t
find her. Instead he saw the same man, in perfect telling his story in perfect
synchronisation with the other. Then he turned back and saw the woman, silent,
while from the other direction the man continued his story.
“What?! It’s impossible for them to have switched places so fast! And
I’m sure I’ve heard this story being told from both ears for a split of a second…
Who are these people? What are these people?” Aidan told himself before the
man approached him and examined with a keen eye his body, as if he could see
something beneath the blood-soaked clothes on him.
“I, after hundreds of hours of meditation and examination, after tens of
volumes of treaties read on the subject, I can firmly give you a diagnosis. You
suffer from what is called External-Stimuli-induced-Omnipresent-Hypothermia.
Allow me to fix this preventable malcondition!” the man said and offered Aidan
his hand while bowing before him.
 “This man might be pulling the words out of his ass, but at least the core
problem is fixed. I think… well, nothing too bad can happen from accepting the
offer.” Aidan thought and then agreed, letting down his guard. The man than
started to warm up different parts of his body, but in a different manner than
Sherry had done so far. He hugged Aidan and glued his body onto Aidan’s, then
moving to heat up the places the hug couldn’t reach one by one.
While this was going on, Aidan awkwardly thanked him and presented
himself in a few words. The man just listened without saying much, but nodding
his head and giving signs of following the story.
When they were done, Aidan noticed the absence of the woman. Seeing
him disoriented and as if reading his thoughts, the doctor pointed her out to him.
She changed again her looks. Instead of the mature and foreign-looking
physician, now there was an elderly lady with long blonde hair reaching to her
knees. When she kneeled down next to the monsters at the water hole, her hair
covered the entirety of her body as she put her hands on one of the creatures that
emerged from the depths, and she started growling. Her voiced cracked along
the way at times, but it was generally profound and resonated deeply as she
cried,
“Oh, lament fo’ my sons! Oh, lament fo’ my daughters! Dead so long
ago, in mindless slaughters! Those bloodless wars, the great revolt, brought
their existence to a halt! It’s broken their soul, broken their heart, fell into the
abyss, split us apart! And for what have they discarded them like outlaws? For
what where their nails made into feral claws? To save the living dead, my
sweeties were exiled! Now I will never see again my child!” the recited, raising
her voice for the rhymes ever-so-slightly.
Aidan noticed how it was all just a very elaborate performance. He
observed how there was even a kind of choreography to her mourning, as when
she leaned over the hands of the creatures, she would hide her head with her
hair, but only when the rhythm dictated it. Likewise, when the rhythm indicated
a high tone, she would straighten her back, show her face and finish the line by
yelling at the sky.
The man’s voice also began singing by Aidan’s side and then stepped
forward to join his partner. He as well had changed his appearance while Aidan
wasn’t looking, becoming an old man with straight black hair stretching to his
feet. He stood behind her while humming a melody and put his hand on her
shoulders and swung from left to right and then began his own little speech,
 “Oh, tell me, who took away your face? Who drowned your dreams, and
made you a disgrace?”
Then his partner cried at the sky again with sorrow on her lips, hands held
up high,
“My sons!” and then she plunged down and hugged the arm of one of the
creatures of the depths.
“Oh, tell me, who called you at arms? Who poisoned your heart, and
deprived you of life’s charms?”
“My daughters!” and she repeated the gestures.
“Oh, tell me, who fooled you with lies? Who painted the world black, and
took the light behind your eyes?”
“My children!” she said, this time standing up after hugging the
screeching monster.
“Oh, tell me, whisper me the name of the snake, and I shall leave death in
their wake! Oh, tell me, shout the name of the traitor, and let me be their
terminator! Oh, tell me, mumble who stole your soul from home, and let my
rage wreak havoc in their heart for centuries to come! Oh, tell me, who stole
your speech while you stay in silence? Who robbed you of your mind with
promises of violence? I promise to avenge your fate, I’ll do it so long as it’s not
too late, and it’s not late ‘til I myself my crazy under-ice! Let revenge be my
last vice!” he said and the turned his back to his partner, his hair covering his
face again.
He turned again with one powerful 180-degree rotation, his long black
hair flying up to form a black circle all around him. But, instead of it falling
naturally back at the ground, it shortened itself mid-spin and got lighter and
lighter in the course of a few moments. The man had changed his looks again.
Now he was a middle-aged man with a magnificently combed red beard,
wearing a plain a leather shirt that continued in a kind of black silk skirt
reaching his knees.
Aidan could only see his left profile, with his epilated and smooth skin.
His hair looked like it was sculpted, unchanged in the face of the perpetual
slight wind of the Icetowers. Even his eyes were full of the same benevolence as
the hunter and the doctor. Yet, he could see that his other foot wasn’t so clear.
Instead, it looked hairy and coarse. That’s when the man turned to look at
Aidan, showing his full-face, making his jaw drop and heart skip a beat. The
other half of the face was the exact opposite of what he had seen so far. A curly,
unattended smirk of a beard watched over a disgusting mouth consisting of wart
infested lips penetrated by his canine teeth, dark red spots like dried up blood
overshadowing much of the over-infected mouth. His right eye lacked the peace
of the left one. It was the only time he could not see mercy in the bloodshot red
eye belonging to a crazed maniac. Even the very core of the eye, the iris and the
pupil, were white, as if he was blind in that eye. The hair was a longshot from
the marble left of his skull, the right half being a mess with threads glued to
each other by filth and white spots of dandruff all over it. He raised his right
wrinkled hand at Aidan and pointed at him with the overgrown sick yellow-
green claw-nails on his fingers.
“Come son, don’t you want to come home? I can take you home, and
more… I can make you king! Aren’t you tired? When was the last time you
didn’t feel tired, emotionally? Aren’t you tired of this white? Don’t you want to
see the seas of green again? Aren’t you sick of being lonely, of stressing, of
crying over your fate? Take my hand and close your eyes… I’ll take you home,
I’ll make you king, I’ll stop the pain…” he said with two voices at the same
time, one gently like a parent speaking to their new-born and one grave and
shivering with serpentine overtones, creating a contradiction in Aidan’s head.
The words were the same, the tone was identical, only the voice was different,
yet one was a that of a loving parent and the other of infernal creature out of the
nightmares of the Doomsland.
“No… What is this? What is this?! I… I…” Aidan murmured as he fell
on his knees and started feeling thousands of bugs crawling underneath his skin,
each one having red-hot needles for legs. The he opened his eyes wide open and
he saw it. He remembered that he had seen the bearded man before. The
beautiful half was identical to the one sculpted on the Façade, the man on which
a ship was always resting… Hugh Blueice, the revolutionary.
When he gained the strength to look at the shapeshifters again, he
immediately broke eye contact with the imagine of evil-incarnate and looked at
the woman, only to see that she had changed as well. His heart froze again,
sending even more flaming shivers through his body. His sight was met by
another familiar face, a life-like copy of Sherry herself, that also suffered from
some deformities, like cracks running all over her face, body and arms. She
ignored him and looked at Hugh, stepping toward him.
“Who are you?!” Aidan shouted at them, but couldn’t interrupt the show.
“I am Cherry Kleinstein. Take me home…” she replied to his question
without hesitation, but without acknowledging the existence of an audience.
 “Hugh Nopaura.” he replied, offering her his beautiful left hand.
“Take me home, sirrah Nopaura!” she said as she shook hands with him.
With each shake, particles of skin and flesh fell off his hand, like wind
carving into a sand dune, until all that was left was bone. The beautiful side of
his face morphed in synchronization with the shakes into an older, frail and
scared version of himself. On her part, with each shake, the cracks grew larger
and deeper, until her left cheek and eyes fell off, revealing a younger, scared
and crying person beneath her skin. The same happened with fragments of her
abdomen, some fingers and right knee. Then, they both fell on the ground and
disappeared right in front of Aidan’s eyes.
“Huh? What? What is this? Where are you? What are you?” Aidan asked
after a few seconds of pure silence. “What are you trying to say? What was that
all about?! Don’t leave!” and he stood up, knees shaking from the cold snow.
“The kids never learn, do they?” a familiar, panting feminine voiced
asked from behind.
“Son, you must find the meaning of this yourself. Being told is not going
to help you in the slightest.” her partner said.
Aidan turned to see the two, both looking extremely tired by the frown on
their faces, holding their temples in a vanitous attempt to stop the pain. They
weren’t hunters, physicians, or people of renown anymore. They looked simple
enough, he was a Lavonian dressed in a simple white tunic, while she looked
entirely differently from the characters she had played, being a Miqhun with her
hair caught in a ponytail, but wearing a coat of reindeer fur.
“Aidan, can I ask you for a favour?” the man asked. “We need as many
ghosts as possible to see this exact performance. Can you help us spread the
word? Look for newcomers, people that were on your ship…”
“Can you do that? We heard the things Sherry had to say today at the
Platform, and we can’t let more Icesouls end up like that.” she said, glancing for
a second at the creatures that had since grown in number at the hole.
“I… I will do my best. But… How did you do that? What tricks… How
did you change your faces?”
They smiled and looked at each other, letting their temples go as the pain
started to diminish. Then, as if struck by lightning, they both shuddered from
seeing each other. After this delayed reaction, they morphed right in front of
Aidan. He saw how the faces lost details, becoming a blurry amalgamation of
shapes as their bodies shrunk around the waist and expanded to make them
taller. The shapes and colours of their clothes shifted along and then their faces
regained their familiarly human features.
“A ghost isn’t but the manifestation of the soul, isn’t it? The soul… has
no shape, it is the essence of a being. No matter how mutilated one looks, how
much they change one’s face, if you were to replace every particle in one’s
body with another one with the same properties…” the man, now looking like
an old-fashioned Hakdan, began and his wife continued,
“You stay the same. A ghost can not only change their clothes or age, but
every single aspect of their body. It is not confided by fleash, it goes beyond it.
All it takes is to let go of your face and become someone else. We’re not actors
by profession, but by circumstance.” she said behind the cover of a brand new
appearance, still one of Miqhun, but one with orange pupils golden emerald-
ornated bracelets around the wrists and an inscribed silver headpiece holding
her ponytail.
“That explains why I’ve not seen something like this before and I makes
sense at the end of the day…” Aidan said, pointing at their faces “I can’t think
of someone able to let go of themselves like this. Plus, in Lanvos the proprieties
of Tunics aren’t used to their full extent… The transcorporalism and the heat
are barely used or understood, shapeshifting is looked down upon like a
freakish, rude action… Why…? And I am right to assume that you also got here
on a ship?” he asked the man, “But what about you? Aren’t Miqhuns supposed
to bring Tunics here instead of being exiled here?” he then turned at the woman.
“And also, where those previous faces your real faces? And on top of that,
what’s up with those…creatures? he pointed with his eyes at a newly arrived
monstrosity, a humanoid with constantly shifting facial features, pieces of skin
vibrating like static on a TV all across its face and no space between the smooth
white teeth, giving the impression of two long pieces of plastic in its mouth.
“Many question” the man replied,
“And many answers.” the woman continued. “Join us over a cup of tea.”
“There is plenty of time.” her husband took over.
“In fact, time is irrelevant for Samadza the Seer!” she exclaimed with
unexpected thundersome power.
“Let Krizal the Sage of Nephtar take you on an expedition to the deepest
corners of your mind!” he tried to stand up to her enthusiasm but failed.
 “Wait, you guys have tea? Do you also have food? Why didn’t you tell
me about that? And really, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, what’s your real
names, of those faces you had before, if I assume rightly.”
The two looked at each other and nodded in silence before speaking to
him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Krizal said. “Did you see
anyone here before we arrived, Samadza?”
“No, there was definitely no-one… But I heard rumours in this city that
two nameless vigilantes have been wreaking havoc all around. You reckon
Aidan maybe saw them?” she answered his question. “Either way, we have
pressing matters. Let us cast the broken icesouls back into their dark aquatic
slumber.”
Then both of them ignored Aidan’s previous questions and headed for the
wall of ice. Aidan still had reserves of patience and decided it would be best to
just observe them and then press his questions further.
The man put his arm to the elbow through the wall of the Façade and his
wife did the same. They closed their eyes and started speaking in a language
Aidan could not identify, if it was a language at all and not a product of their
imagination. It didn’t sound like Miqhun, at least not the kind he started to get
accustomed to hearing on the ship. He observed as they started to move their
arms and together, slowly but surely, they started cutting through the ice.
Aidan finally understood what was going on,
“Hm… They are cutting a block of ice out of the wall, with a size similar
to the hole these creatures come, so they must want to plug the hole in the ice.
But it’s not that big of a hole… it took the people at the workshops at Blueice so
little to melt all the ice within a ball, Sherry took a few second to melt a
handprint… Why are these guys taking so long? Now that I think about it, I’m
starting to feel cold already… What’s up with the heating abilities?” and he
started to wonder why it could be that case.
“Could it be that these people aren’t angry enough? Or maybe not
determined enough to produce enough heat? In Lanvos Tunics heat up when
angry, and I’ve seen plenty of what sick determination and hate can do in this
Doomsland-ish wasteland!” he thought to himself, but then he noticed
something peculiar. The two of them began to flash, but not with light. They
were oscillating in and out of their current shape, returning to the previous
forms that they were so quick to dismiss for a brief split of a second. It looked
as if the Krizal and Samadza personas weren’t stable anymore.
“They’ve almost finished cutting that block… No, anger and hate
wouldn’t make them fade in and out of their current state. Maybe the effort is
too great! What if the shapeshifting takes willpower, just like selective
transcorporalism? If they’re not angry, sheer willpower produces the heat.
Maybe it’s too much for them to do both at the same time…” he speculated.
“Doomsland! It’s hard to concentrate on keeping up the persona and
warming things up, isn’t it?” he asked them in a rhetoric fashion once they got
the rectangular prism out. As they were approaching the hole, he got a reply.
“See? I told you that you got to figure things out on your own.” he
encouraged Aidan.
“You’re almost right, good enough observations for a Listener, but no
Storyteller!” Samadza picked at his reply to keep him guessing.
While he held the block, she had the job of catching the people by their
arms or legs to drag them down beneath the ice again, in the everlasting
darkness underneath. Needless to say, the deformed ghosts weren’t keen on
returning and started protesting by screeching and trying to break free with no
avail. Aidan saw how their fingers turned into veritable hooks sinking as deep
as they could in an effort to resist the force dragging them down. He was
horrified by the sight to a greater degree once some of them started begging in
an unintelligible yet recognizable Lavonian. Words needn’t be understood to
know their significance, he could feel the terror and desperation they were
begging for them to stop, he could make out the fading life as their attempts to
stay above the surface proved futile. He realized he was watching the torture of
the creatures and their second damnation to an existence buried in the cold.
Stupefied by just how mercilessly she dragged each one of them with her in the
abyss, he had to speak out. He had to do something; he could let those creatures
suffer like that. Some were clearly intelligent, conscious and pretty human-like.
Aidan ran towards the man and tried to take away the block of ice, but he
was unable to even make the man flinch with his efforts.
“What the Doomsland is this?! Don’t you have mercy for these things?
They’re clearly Tunics, perverted for some reason, maybe dangerous… But
Tunics! You can’t do this!”
“Fool.” he said calmly. “You get things some times, but you’re so naïve
other times. Don’t you get it, that I am being merciful to the Children of War?”
 “Children of War? What do you mean? Stop this madness! This is
inhumane! How can you find mercy in crushing these ghosts like this?!” Aidan
protested, putting himself in the way of the man so he wouldn’t be able to fill in
the hole.
“The little play my friends put up for you wasn’t enough to understand?
Do you find mercy in bringing them to a world they don’t understand, they
can’t explore, a world where they can hurt and destroy unconsciously?” he
replied calmly and calculated again.
“Hurt unconsciously? What do you mean? A world they don’t
understand? Who are you to say that? Who do you think you are?!”
“I am Krizal the Sage of Nepthtar! That’s enough from you! One day you
will understand what grown-ups have to do, child, but until then do not insult
those who know better just because your little mind can’t comprehend it! One
more insult and you’re not invited to the tea!” he burst out in anger and
effortlessly pushed Aidan aside with one hand, throwing him a few meters
sideways. Then, the hole was sealed and Samadza rose through the ice.
When Aidan got up, the two were gone and in their place, he found the
physicians, inspecting him.
“I see you ran into the Purifier, the one that cleared Ash river with one
blow of his hand all by himself, the most powerful of all the ancient Hakdan
Sages, the Keeper of Tradions and Bridge to the Past himself, sirrah Krizal!”
doctor Klipf Rosenburg said.
“Fortunately, your wounds aren’t terrible, but more akin to Minimal
Force-Originating Non-haemorrhagic Surface Bruise-ive Anomalies. Come, let
me give you a warm hug.” Pagadana said as he caught Aidan between her arms
and started to warm him up.
“You forgot the inclusion of the Non-Fractural aspect of the diagnosis!”
Klipf intervened.
“What can I say, I was too busy finding a cure and healing the patient,
unlike some other people. My bad!” she snaped back at him.
Aidan was being hugged so hard he couldn’t articulate a proper reply to
the whirlpool of weirdness going on around him. That’s when Klipf noticed
something.
“Honey, do I hear well?” he asked her.
 “Afraid so.” she replied, and then let go of Aidan and told him, “I’m
afraid we gotta get our asses off and running outta here.” yet another face told
him. “The tea is still on table, and don’t forget to bring some friends with you,
oq? Teas are great for answering questions!”
Aidan then watched the now two athletes in spandex and nylon suits ran
away as fast as they could, defying gravity by sprinting up the cliff-face of the
ice wall, only to disappear from sight somewhere on top. Only after that did
Aidan notice that they must’ve been talking about the approaching figure in the
distance, which proved to be Sherry.
///“We were on top of the ice and failed to convince six people not to
commit group suicide.”
“Sorry for interfering, but we heard the usual cries were louder and
couldn’t help our curiosity. Wait a second…” You’re breathing! W-why are you
alive? Are you cold? We can warm you up… How did you get here?”
He in turn was told of their origin as Lavonian retirees that rejected the
views of the Blueice community and simply lived by themselves, talking to
each other and trying to prevent new retirees from abandoning all hope.///
“So, you have no place, no home, no anything? You just… are? Don’t
you get bored of each other? You just want to live a quiet life?” Aidan asked if
he understood the main point.
“Yes, we don’t call ourselves anything, but we are nomads. You see…
there is no point in holding grudges, we don’t hate Lanvos, we don’t hate
Blueice or whatever other small towns there are around here. Are they wrong?
Yes, they are, both of them, but we can’t change anything, so we just do our
best to ignore it and help those who can be helped, newcomers that don’t want
to exist anymore.” Ellen explained.
“There is no point in getting revenge, or ‘justice’ or whatever they are
calling it now, what matters is to help those who you can help, to have a
tangible effect. Brick by boring brick the two of us roam half-aimlessly to build
a better place. It is small, it’s not grandiose, we don’t have monuments or
‘civilisation’, but we just screw it. We stay together and tell stories, do role-
play… Honestly, we live in our own head most of the time.” the man added as
the warming process was finished and Aidan asked about those people.
“Aaah… those are soldiers of the previous wars and a minority are
criminals condemned by the Blueice or suicides by throwing your Artefact in
the sea. The Artefacts of these people are trapped somewhere on the bottom of
the sea, trapped under the ice. Their Artefacts are usually not directly under
them, but somewhere else, further away from the shore. The more distant the
human is from their Artefact, the weaker they get. Their appearances are so
twisted because it is all a matter of self-image, but with hundreds of years of
being trapped under the ice without seeing the light of day…” the woman tried
to explain and left the part that saddened her to the man,
“They forget who they are. They forget how they look, how the outside
world works, they go mad, beyond recovery. They remember the fact that they
want to get out, they want to go up, but many… many don’t know why. Some
turn invisible, like blind people. The fact that they can’t melt away the ice is
because of their mental weakness and the distance from the Artefact. That’s
why by now five have gone to the hole, but are not strong enough to get out. At
least these remember sight and see the light. Some will never realise what is
going on, a physical manifestation of the idea of escape.” he said with heavy
heart, going to the ice wall and followed by his wife.
The two cut a rectangular prism out of the wall using the transcorporalist
holographic state and the warming ability to cut it out. It took a long time to do
it, just like how warming Aidan took them both longer than Sherry did all by
herself, and when inquired about it, Ellen was glad to answer,
“We are at peace; we want a quiet life. The warm is fuelled by mercy and
pity, not anger and fear, and there’s not even that much anyway, so we don’t get
warm that fast or reach such high temperatures.”
The two took the small but long block and used it to fill in the hole,
disregarding the ones that reached out and sending them back to the eternal
darkness underneath. The one that got halfway out was scarred into retreating
by Mark covering the head. He was glad to see he panicked and started
switching between the two states maniacally and eventually fell back in the hole
while in the tangible state. Then Ellen fully stuffed the hole and the two buried
the ice again with snow.
Aidan could not believe what he was seeing in front of his eyes and the
two seeing the disgust on his face, felt obliged to try to make him change his
views.
“There is no hope for these people. They are too mentally damaged, even
the fresh soldiers that fall in the water develop delusions of revenge and
grandeur. It’s better for the safety of others to keep them there. It’s either that or
murdering them when they eventually snap. And with these people… the
Artefacts are too deep in the sea, surrounded by total darkness, impossible to
see a thing. Nobody will risk to dive and try to save them. They don’t help each
other and if they lose the sense of direction, some will scratch the bottom of the
sea thinking it is ice. Others will swim to the sides thinking they are going up.
The best thing you can do to help these… in some cases people, in some
manifestations of a singular desire… is to let time pass and let the bacteria rot
away their Artefacts so they find rest in a natural way.”
Aidan wanted to say something, but the two suddenly turned their back
while he was forming his ideas, thinking that mercy killings would actually be
justified in this case. They just ran away without a further word and when he
turned his back, he saw a humanoid figure coming closer and realised it must
have been Sherry.
“What were those silver-tongued Nomads trying to tell you, huh? Did
they brag about how we are wrong, how our revolts fail, how the hope and
meaning we give people are worse than the nothing they offer? Did they try to
convert you to their peace of mind and abandoning all drive to make the world a
better place? What did they do to you?!” she started interrogating him.
“No-nothing… they just warmed me up and explained why there are
people trapped under the ice, crying constantly. Like, if you shut up you can
hear them right now! It was a sweet couple; they hate mercy killing more than I
do! That’s something new… I like them, good people.” he replied to the
exasperated worries.
“The bastards are getting at you! No, I can’t leave you alone anymore,
not if you run into such savages lacking any civilisation, order or self-
determination! Those apathetic traitors are gonna put horrible, dangerous ideas
in your head, can’t you see that?!”
While he had his disagreements, Aidan realised he would rather become a
Nomad that fucked with Blueice’s nerves and sabotaged their monuments and
‘superior culture’ than join one of these monsters that saw nothing outside their
obsession with Lanvos. He wanted to oppose them, to show them that they
don’t have all the answer, to show them they weren’t the righteous warriors they
saw themselves as… but it was not the moment. If he really wanted to screw
them up, he had to make them and It think he was an ally and then backstab at
the right moment and get away. To hide and then strike again, guerrilla tactics,
in essence. And besides, the nomads didn’t have food, so he would starve. The
way they lived was just a privilege offered by their freedom from the physical
world. He still had to breathe, drink, eat, sleep and above all, he had an
unknown Artefact, something that most likely was waiting for him in Lanvos.
So, he played the role he needed to.
“They are undermining themselves! They openly admitted they have up
on trying to change the world and just role-play their entire existence, living in
their head. That’s not something I can get behind. But what are you doing
here?” he asked her, as her appearance was coming out of the blue to say the
least.
“You dropped this ball. It is disrespectful to do that, it represents
somebody else’s work. Put it in a safe place.” and she took Hypo the Ball out of
a pocket in her cloak and launched it in his direction like a projectile, his
stomach taking head-on the force of the impact, “If you see anybody, just shout.
If you want privacy for whatever reason… I’ll be watching from a safe distance,
don’t mind me.” she openly acknowledged her future spying.
Aidan had been powerfully hit by Hypo, so he was stunned for a second,
a lightness of head finding suitable ground to develop. His gaze went down to
find Hypo stopping its rolling in the snow, glowing like one of those archaic
lightbulbs he heard about.
“Hey…um, you,” he refrained from calling her by her name, “Why is
Hypo shining?” he asked as he tried to maintain balance and stand upright.
“What? Hypo? Are you talking about the ball, you gave it a fucking
name?” she raised her eyebrows with a judgemental curiosity. “No, it’s not
shining, you don’t look… normal.” she noticed a certain change to a paler skin
tone. “Woah! Are you dizzy? Are you gonna… how do you call it…” she
exploded into a childish fascination while Aidan was unable to reply, “Throw
up! That’s how you call it! Are you, huh? Pleaseeee!” she begged, wanting to
see the rare phenomenon.
Aidan couldn’t make himself feel better and abandoned all hope that
Sherry would do anything to help or sympathise, so he just ignored the fact that
he became once again a circus attraction. He was too busy falling with his knees
on the snow and then with all fours on the white mattress. He looked in Sherry’s
direction and in front of her feet there was Hypo again, brighter than ever, a
veridic pocket sun to carry around.
He could no longer hold his sickness and vomited on the snow while
Sherry applauded and cheered encouraging lines. When he thought he finished,
he got another glimpse at Hypo, but the power of the light it emitted prompted
the arrival of a second wave of yesterday’s half-digested canned food.
 When he was done, Sherry switched from the intrigued to a more familiar
fed-up facial expression. Hypo was not shining anymore, and he decided to try
to pick it up.
“Are you not interested in looking at thing I left behind? That expired
food was great, I swear on my honour!” his sarcastic remarks were cut short by
a burning feeling on his fingers. He let out a short howl as he tried to cool down
the tips of his fingers. “What? The ball is hot! It is burning! What the fuck!”
“Nah, the view isn’t particularly different from the gastric soup of the
guys me and my patrol found 65 years ago. Though it is a good reminder. I was
more interested in your face and the throwing up in and of itself.” She replied,
ignoring the comments regarding the ball.
Aidan tried to pick it up again, but his arms started to heat up just from
approaching Hypo, and he had to retract as soon as he put his hands on it.
“Oh, c’mon! Fuck it, how hard can it be?” Sherry couldn’t stand his
whining and picked Hypo up. “This thing is cold.” she concluded and passed it
to him, grabbing it with the well-protected elbows.
“Didn’t you say that you can’t feel warm and cold?” Aidan asked as he
rolled up his palms in his sleeves and held Hypo that way.
“I don’t, none of us feel it like you do. It’s more like a feeling if
something is porous or not. The colder the smoother, it has something about
heat and molecules, I don’t remember that class well.” she confessed.
With Hypo now firmly in his hands, he looked at it and instantly his eyes
started to fill with water in spite of not crying, so much and so fast that he went
blind for a few seconds and dropped Hypo again. The excessive lacrimation
didn’t stop while Hypo was still in his sight, and only when whipping his eyes
at certain angles did it work, only for the condition to return as soon as he set
sight on the ice ball.
“What’s with the ball? I… I can’t stop tearing up, but I don’t want to! I
can’t help myself! It’s so itchy, my eyes are irritated! What the fuck is wrong
with the ball?!”
“Damnit! Stop with your bullshit! I’m done, I’m taking it for you. You’ll
find it in the cave when you decide to return. Want to stay some more?” Sherry
impatiently took up Hypo without any problems.
Aidan agreed and the two headed toward the main entrance, making small
talk on the way.
 “So, you say you met some of our Heroes?” she asked him.
“You mean the people shamelessly left to rot away into madness
underneath our feet?” he almost arrogantly asked this question as if the answer
was obvious.
“Yeah, the war fallen that go crazy with post-traumatic stress disorder
either way. I’m talking about those. We pay homage to them every night. It is
forbidden to make any kind of noise while the sun is down and we just listen to
their hopeless moans. It helps us remember who we are fighting against, what
kind of people we are dealing with when we fight the Lavonians.”
“And if you are so much better, why not save them? Why keep them
under your feet? At least let them see the surface, make some holes in the ice.
Doomsland, it costs you nothing!” Aidan hid his pure disgust as well as he
could while not being too confrontational.
“It’s better like this. Their Artefacts are hundreds of meters deep, some
over one kilometre, those are stuck in eternal darkness. They would barely make
a few metres out of the ice if they wanted. They can’t control themselves
because of the trauma of sinking to the bottom, to see the chasm swallow you
while you helplessly swim. With no control, the weakening caused by the
distance makes them vulnerable. Eventually, they go insane either way. But at
least like this, they can’t hurt us. Only teach us, only guide us and remind us.”
“But in Lanvos the weakening of a Tunic’s strength relatively to the
distance from the Artefact isn’t something to worry about. It’s never taken into
consideration, so why does it matter here?” Aidan pointed out the inconsistency
of her explanation.
“Ugh!” she rolled her eyes, “Sometimes I just wish you’d shut up, but it
goes away pretty fast.” she confessed and then moved to finish her point,
“There nobody ever experiences the feeling of worthlessness, doom and
insufficiency as out Heroes do in defeat. On top of their mental integrity, in
Lanvos there is no martial culture. The ghosts there use their physically superior
power and heat producing capabilities, but rarely holographic transcorporalism
or shapeshifting. They just don’t have to joggle as much.” and then she
suddenly changed subject, not bothering to see if Aidan had something to add,
“Look at this relief! It’s the Fifth Great Revolt, and there’s me! 37th row, 83rd
column on the left!” and she pointed at the figure bearing her likeness.
Aidan was starting to understand why the Miqhun crewmen were all
living people and their culture was focused on living people doing the fishing
out on the open waters. For a ghost it was a disastrous fate, worse than death, to
accidentally sink to the bottom of the sea, while a man could survive and or in
the worst case, drown. All of a sudden, the lack of personal objects on board
made sense in a whole new horrific way. In no drawers or any men did he find
jewellery, a photo of a family member, a collection, a gift, nothing. Just objects
of practical use that they had no attachment to, in case their would-be Artefact
was on board.
Seeing the grow face he was making, not paying attention to her, she
warmed his cheek beyond the comfort zone and got his attention.
“Are you listening?! I wanted to explain to you how I got here on the
relief, but you were phased-out for some reason…” she complained and Aidan
had no choice, but to acknowledge her.
“I don’t want to hear it!” he thought, a feeling of anxiety starting to raise
the hair on his body under the warm-enough, blood-soaked clothes. “It… it
doesn’t deserve to be heard; I don’t care how It came here, how It ended up
here… What matters are Its choices, and those made It a vengeful demagogue
and hypocrite, blindly hating on innocent people! Somebody like that shouldn’t
be listened too, its opinions are irrelevant! No amount of injustice can justify its
decision to murder and torture blissfully ignorant civilians and steal their life for
themselves… No! It-it shouldn’t be allowed to speak! Shouldn’t be allowed to
defend itself, no sympathy for this… Hada, Narseon’s murderer!”
Nevertheless, he didn’t speak up as he wanted to keep an ally. Sherry
explained with a glowing globe in her hand how she ended up there.
“I remember clearly… Most of my life was usual. Travelling, painting,
reading, fashion… better days… long gone, better days.” she sighed with
nostalgia and then continued, “…and then I met him, Johnny Kleinstein.”
Aidan clicked when he heard that name and tried to focus on her face as
she was telling, trying not to be blinded by Hypo’s unexplainable luminescence.
“I… I think I know the guy, is he supposed to be around 650 years old?”
Aidan asked, thinking of the colleague that invited him through Sam at the
Gathering he met Ira at.
“658, to be more exact.” she corrected him. “The Kleinstein’s weren’t
very big, so he can be the same…” her voice faded into a lower and lower tone,
descending into regret that built up and exploded in anger the next second.
“I want to know all about him!” she ordered Aidan, “Tell me everything!
Where he works, how he’s doing, how he’s looking, how he’s enjoying his life,
everything!”
 Aidan summed up as fast as he could a recollection of unorganised
thoughts pertaining to this individual. He described his blonde laid back hair,
the boring office job he had, the Gatherings his family regularly organised and
he helped around. He also mentioned Johnny had two sons of which only one
was still existing, but he didn’t pay much attention to him as he was made with
his previous wife.
“Not that he cares much for his current wife, a first-degree cousin. No
children, they married at old age and grew apart since, living mostly
independent of one another, regular stuff. That’s what I know.” Aidan finished
his haphazardly structured portrait.
Sherry started melting the ice underneath her feet so fast that in a few
second, she had already descended to the knees in ice.
“No! He, ha can’t get away! I will do it! I will keep him in a dungeon and
whip him, force him to cut his own fingers and drink his own blood to survive
so that he can be beaten the second day!” her pupils contracted, creating a small
dot of black on a green background that moved hysterically all over the place,
“And I won’t make it easy, oh no! First, I’ll pull out his teeth one by one and
then stab his dick with them! I’ll break every articulation of his feet so that he
wouldn’t…” she stopped for a second, realising she let herself be taken by the
wave, without thinking logically. “Oh, he’s dead, I can’t do that… Well, I’ll do
that to his living descendants and then one day bring him here to rest with the
other monsters we call ‘Heroes’! I swear I will! No matter what it takes!” she
triumphantly held Hypo above her head.
“Woah! Why? Take it easy with that revenge!” Aidan commented,
patting himself on the back in his mind for correctly anticipating the
irredeemable evil that would inevitable show up once he gave her a chance to
open that cursed mouth.
“Revenge? What revenge?” she asked confusedly, somewhat shocked at
the question. “Revenge is hurting someone back for them hurting you. But this
is not that. This is just the wheel of fortune paying you back, getting what you
sown. It’s not my retribution, it’s justice, life’s punishment!” she defended her
bubble of delusion.
The bubble was getting too intricate to be understood without the full
picture, so Aidan asked her to explain what was the connection between the two
of them.
“So, at 25, like all women, I was married into another family which was
willing to pay my bride price, a young man called Johnny Kleinstein. I had met
him before about three times on some short meetings at Gatherings. I guess he
was more into me than me into him, but that didn’t matter. We did our part
when we were told we had to have two sons. I did and accomplished my
womanly duties in that regard with success, I might say. By 33, with two sons
and a secret abortion of a daughter, everything was fine. Until 45 I took care of
the children, Gerald and Guilberd, and then I got to enjoy life again for once
without a brat knocking over my head with ‘Mama! Mama!’ all day long.
Though the more I think about it, I miss it more and more… Why did I say that?
It’s beside the point… Anyway,” she excused letting out a face of hers Aidan
was afraid to see before, a face he knew could lie somewhere suppressed by the
Lavonian lifestyle and by blind hatred.
“Where were we? Oh, yeah, kids grow up, I grow old and everything is
fine until one fatal day when I was 71. I was not ready to die, I wanted to live
longer, to recover those years Johnny could enjoy freely, while I had to take
care of the kids. He didn’t agree though. His health deteriorated and his back
hurt a little, so naturally, he wanted to die and end the inconvenience. With this
conflict, I told him to kill himself and let me live for a few more years, but he
refused. I could not see it at that moment, but in three days I would be found
dead in my bed without any prior warning of what seemed as heart failure.”
“Plot twist! It’s not heart failure!” Aidan correctly anticipated the
direction of the story.
“Yes. I know I felt dizzy after drinking some tea right before going to bed
one day. I tried to make the others look into this sudden death, but I was
dismissed by the Suicide Doctor as a normal case of Negation in the face of
sudden death, second place in commonality to Death Hysteria. The idea is that
Johnny, that cunt’s health suddenly recovered and he felt much better, just as I
unexpectedly died. And not only did he just recover, he filled a divorce within
two weeks based on our different existential status, and then one week later got
married to his filthy bitch of a swine cousin, Helga, a 28-year-old good for
nothing junkie that no family would buy as a wife. A 72-year-old man spent the
last of his ten years… I don’t know, probably popping pills to fuck her 24/7 as
all of a sudden, he realised he will die and will no longer enjoy having his cock
sucked, ever. Ten years of working as a cashier later while he was banging his
new wife, still not having justice for my own murder, I was given the
opportunity to retire. I guess Johnny really wanted me to leave; I wasn’t old
enough to retire, but I took the chance. There was nothing to lose, only to win
being all alone in my own villa, after all. Now look at me.” she related the
context of their relationship. “I was accepted into this warm community that
could understand me, that made me feel at home, despite their stupid rules with
the Hugh guy and weird trials. If it weren’t for their vision that gave me hope to
fight on… I couldn’t have taken it and just killed myself. Two failed revolutions
latter, I somehow didn’t join the Heroes by a mixture of jumping overboard at
the right movement and George’s reliability. Now I’m a senior commander,
well known among anybody that’s at least a hundred years old, leading the final
revolution, the war to end all wars, the war to end all lies and injustices… and if
I could pay back the fucker along the way, I would gladly accept the offer. If a
god wanted me to not do it, they would stop me…”
Aidan was once again squatting and pulling his hair, not knowing what to
do. On one hand, he had a mindless machine of murder in front of him, but on
the other he had a hurt person who he though could be saved and shown a better
way. What he wanted… he wanted a simple solution, a simple answer, a catch-
all phrase to define his point of view, and the simplest was to keep it the way he
had been so far, to view her as a non-human robot, a process of nature, like rain,
one that could be backstabbed and stopped without repercussions. He wanted to
believe it, he didn’t want to hear more of her, he didn’t want to have another
reason to view her as human, but there was a masochistic side in him, an evil
spirit that this time pushed him to better himself and to not run away from the
truth in spite of how it might contradict his brand-new worldview. Doomsland
saved him from himself when he asked,
“And why do you have this as your Artefact?” he held the medallion in
one hand, seeing that Hypo was now an intermittently blinking yellow traffic
light, with the interval between two flashes prolonging with every second. A
kind of stress was building up beneath his skin and he avoided looking at her,
instead opting to simply listen while she explained, keeping his eyes glued to
the pendant.
“It’s a long short story!” Sherry began, “There was this collection of
jewels that were popular around when I was 21 or so. The pendant is black right
now because it is about 600 years old, but it’s actually made of silver. You
could get different pieces by completing challenges at specific restaurants
across the country. All in all, it was a big marketing scheme on part of…
Malzait? Mahlzeit? I don’t remember the name of the restaurant clearly.
Anyway, the idea was that you could obtain certain collectibles only by actually
going to a different city and ordering certain meals. Completing the challenge
became the new cool thing. At Gatherings, you’d show off the rings and
necklaces and say what you had to do to win each piece. Great conversation
starters and great ways of showing off! Huh, great times over all…” she sighed
as for a second she got lost, reimagining the Gatherings and seeing them again
in front of her eyes, when Aidan interrupted.
“Wait, show off rings and such? You did that?” he asked.
The bright lights disappeared to make place for the same boring white as
always, and Sherry was surprised by his question. “Yeah, what’s so unusual?”
and crossed her arms.
“We don’t do that anymore. In fact, I remember seeing people get bashed
and shamed, called ‘fireflies’ and ‘walking road signs’ for wearing too many
sparkly things.” he explained, realising that fashion had changed. “I never heard
a Tu-… ghost, talk about a jewel phase.”
“Probably because they’re too afraid to ‘insult’ living folk’s idiotic
preferences! Then how do you express yourself at parties without golden
patterns and diamonds woven in your clothes, or personalised amulets?” she
instantly explained the differences as the fault of her perceived enemies. “And
it’s very artistic! A ghost doesn’t wear bracelets or other such items because if
they enter the transcorporal state accidently, those would fall off. That’s very
likely, considering just how underused our abilities are there…”
“We paint our faces and bodies now… That’s what I’ve done my whole
life and what has been done for I don’t know how many generations. And it’s
still as ‘artistic’… the paint would fall off a ghost as easy as those rings. But
anyway, continue.”
“But…that’s so temporary… ugh! How’s something so superficial called
art? Ugh, modern regressive thinking aside, the point is that this was the
missing piece in my set. I used to have the entire set, but not this piece. And not
only me, this piece was extremely rare and valued. In Phine, I had to eat some
of their northerner stupid food… I remember to this very day, I can remember
how much I disliked the taste… not the actual taste, I don’t know how it is like
to taste things… Either way, it was about 300 grams of ‘Kazu marzu’… living,
maggot infested rotting cheese… Coupled with fermented, sour fermented
herring heads, three of those! Three rotten raw fish heads smelling like a carcass
in a landfill that somebody took a shit on! Those went down my throat and
were… slimy, flowing down my throat like a film, like ice with a layer of water
on top, like swallowing mucus! But worse than mucus because it tasted like a
fish stuck in the asshole of a cow, and I’m not exaggerating, I’ve had 600 years
to get over it, but I swear that it was the single most disgusting thing I’ve forced
myself to do. Like… I could see it on my spoon and I knew I had the chance to
stop it, just put it down and…throw up- that’s the word-, yeah! You can’t even
imagine the willpower needed to not vomit right then and there… I think I
barely reach those levels of determination here when I melt stell, because I had
to force myself to do it in quick succession! Just thinking about it made me
want to puke those eyes and eat more maggots off that sour cheese. Ugh! I
thought about it too much, my head hurts!” she fell on her knees, holding her
head by the temples with her eyes closed, holding back a loud scream by letting
out small grunts like gas slowly escaping and burning from a tank instead of
exploding.
Aidan became more confused. How could something associated with
such memories be an Artefact? People grew attach to things they cherish, not to
tokens of suffering… He felt sorry for her and saw that she dropped Hypo and a
knife she was caring around the waist. Hypo now had faint rays of burning light
shooting out of it, so Aidan couldn’t get close to her.
“Are you fine? Do you need some help?” he asked Sherry.
“Fuck off! There’s nothing you can do, so just shut up! Ugh! You’re so
annoying, you little shit! Aaargh!” and with the more powerful screech, she
found the power to take Hypo up and put the knife back in her dress. When she
stood up, she looked at the mesmerized Aidan, who did as told to and just
waited in the snow. His sorry eyes bothered her and she said with spite,
“Stop looking like that and listen up! I haven’t finished telling yet!
There’s more… So, I do that and throw up for the next half an hour after I get
that medallion… Then I want to go home and it takes a while. The driver had
recently died, so he said when got tired of constantly interacting with the pedals
and steering wheel and we took a short break each time.”
Aidan broke eye contact and looked at the Seagle defiantly screaming,
surrounded by the protecting Birdsnake.
“I bet you regret being so harsh with the driver now that you’re dead…”
he chucked inside as he accused her of that.
“What? No, if anything I feel more pity! Imagine having these powers,
but never being told how to control them, or what you are really capable of! The
way you Lavonians treat the recently dead… despicable! So, no, I wasn’t angry
with him for taking breaks, that’s very understandable. When it came to
criticising for the cooking though, I never did it again. After that experience,
getting red wine instead of white was nothing! Not that anyone would listen to
me, but that’s beside the point. The idea is that the same day that happened,
while we were stopped at some rest area on the highway, I saw a figure moving
in the corner of my eye and to my surprise, there was a box behind the toilet
building and there I found two sleeping pups, a third one hiding behind that.
Naturally, I took them to my car, I couldn’t just leave those cuties all alone. I
already had one back home, but these were different… You know how pet dogs
are all so small, like a walking fluffy white box… These three turned out to be
different, their shape was unusual… They grew tall to my knees and long as
three of those regular dogs, and on top of that the nose was… so long… They
looked like those wolves at the zoo! And what’s weirder, they didn’t have the-”
“Woah, woah, woah!” Aidan interrupted her. “I’ll stop you right there.
First of all, pet dogs? And second, a zoo? How was to be at one? Those got
banned about 400 years ago.”
“Wait, they got banned?!” she asked with a concerned kind of
repulsiveness. “That’s not what I was trying to do!”
“Eh? Well, maybe banned isn’t the best word… ‘forceful repurposed’
would be a better term. They closed their gates to the mass public and became
solely conservation centres. They were also moved from the Suburbs to the
forests between the towns, to have more room around.” he clarified. “What
were you trying to do?”
“No, first you answer me. What was so surprising about ‘pet dogs’?
Don’t you keep pets anymore?” an accentuated anxiety betrayed a hidden sense
of insecurity.
“Well, no. I… don’t really have an opinion on that, I never had a pet to
see for myself, but I know why it’s looked down upon. They always bring up
interfering with the free will of the animal and treating a living being as
propriety, limiting its options of exploration and forcing sterilization on it in
many cases…” Aidan replied and spectated as Sherry started losing her mind
again,
“B-but… Y-you lavons! Urgh! How can you be that stupid, you morons?!
When I was calling for animal rights and ethics, that’s not what I was saying!
It’s alright to treat a ghost like shit, but having a cat is too much? That’s where
you draw the line?! I-I swear, you say something and they get the exact
opposite! Why are people so mindless?! Ugh!” her head was starting to ache
again, but she didn’t fall or have problems with transcorporalism.
After panning a little and calming down, she came back to Aidan, “So
that you get it: those three little pups never had some of the problems other dogs
had. No breathing problems, or fatigue, their eyes required less maintenance and
didn’t overheat easily or require stomach surgery. I might be speaking Nan
Hayese to you, but those were common issues with dogs. The idea is that while
not perfect, these dogs were much healthier and it must have resulted from their
anatomy. This was too much for me, so I started organizing rallies and speaking
out against the malformed dogs. Some people called me full of shit for
criticising their perfectly healthy pets, but I won some people over when I
showed them my ‘wolves’. I didn’t get many people out into the streets calling
for the end of selective breeding, but… I did meet a certain motherfucker by the
name of Johnny… I fought for better treatment of animals and a return to nature
for most of my existence there, in one way or another. That included ending for-
profit zoos, but I never thought that it would spiral down to not being socially
acceptable to have pets… Damn you! There was one good thing in this
shitshow, and you screwed it! I… A’ gatta be chillin daown…” and she dropped
Hypo, who started melting in her hand.
Aidan saw that it was no longer shinning and made a few steps in his
direction. Without sensing heat, he touched it and was cold, as expected. He
took it up and held it between his elbow and the bloody chest. When looking at
it thought, a dangerous numbness assaulted his brain, like an injury whose
severity would be acknowledged by the brain only after all threats were cleared.
“Now you don’t have problems with the ball? Weirdo…” Sherry noticed,
closing her eyes to focus on maintaining her calm. She continued her story
while keeping herself under control to take her mind off the Lavonian crimes.
“Yeah… You can see how that day, how that thing… it changed me. It was the
only piece from that set that I kept on wearing when it got out of fashion. I only
stopped wearing it when my younger son asked for it, the little brat… I miss
that little brat…” a dim soft voice expressed a deep sense of regret, leaving two
seconds of deadly silence behind them. “And that’s why I’m gonna kill them all!
All the Wushons, all the Wergethories, all Miqhuns, all Kleinsteins and
anybody who gets in my way! They’re all gonna pay, they’ll all regret fucking
with me, they’ll be sorry, for once, for once the smug on the faces of all those
who did this, will die! All Househeads, all treacherous roamers, bosses and
butlers! They’ll all get what they fucking deserve! Only once, once, they will
feel a fraction of their own medicine! Only once! No more! And I will make the
world better, I’ll take back what was taken from me and stop this wheel of
tortures! I’ll make the world a better place… A fucking better place…”
She kept her eyes closed for the entirety of her rant, but Aidan felt some
heat coming from her direction and took the precautious measure of taking a
step backwards. She stopped, but when she opened her eyes, she saw that she
had in fact melted all the snow and ice on a radius of half a meter. She was now
standing on thin ice with the heroes of times long past knocking from beneath.
It was too late to step out, and the ice broke under the pressure of their fists.
They used their tentacle-like hands to drag her down beneath, blindly using
anything they could get their claws on to climb up, creating an unorganised
human vortex of people dragging each other down to climb up only to serve as
someone else’s support and be dragged back down. Nobody was able to escape
the mass of fighting and screams that sprung out of the chasm. It was a demon
of tormented souls, a hundred-tentacled brainless monster.
A pair of two hands grew out of the ground beneath Aidan’s feet, which
then used the snow to propel the rest of Sherry’s body from underwater.
“It’s not that hard to get out. Melt the ice until it’s thinner than the length
of your body and then use selective transparency to get out. It’s easier said than
done when you don’t have enough self-control to use the technique or your
Artefact is so far away you can barely rise the water one of two degrees above
freezing…” she explained her presence to a horrified and speechless Aidan.
“Anyway, my son gave it back to me when he was 25 as a ‘Thank you’ gift.”
Aidan didn’t know what to do, his gaze switching between the Kraken in
front of him, the mystic burning Hypo and the casual psychopath in front of
him.
“I- I guess… it must warm your heart just thinking of it…” he mumbled a
defensive joke out of reflex.
“Ha… I’ve heard worse… Nonetheless, bold of you to assume I have a
heart!” she reacted to the pun, but saw that Aidan was confused as to whether to
take it as a warning or as a fellow bad pun. “It was a joke… Like, literally, put
your hand through my chest, there’s no organs. Though if I open my mouth,
you’ll see that it looks normal.” and she made a demonstration. “Don’t be
fooled though, it doesn’t go further than the pharynx, we ghost did some
experiments on one another. Some do have an oesophagus, which is weird…”
Aidan was still frozen, unable to form a coherent sentence, having too
many thoughts running through his mind.
“”
“Ugh!” Sherry rolled her eyes. “You’re so boring sometimes! Let’s go
before we gotta answer for hole in the ‘floor’. I don’t wanna deal with that. And
by the way, tonight I want you to show me your toes. I can’t imagine my feet
anymore, that’s why I always have either socks or shoes. Maybe if you show
me, I’ll remember and walk barefooted on ice. That’d be nice!” and the two left,
Aidan silent as ever, lost in a battle in his own head.
 PLAN:
WALK WITH SHERRY AND THE FIGHT BETWEEN HER
HUMANITY AND FERAL VIEW IN AIDAN’S MIND

==NOTES==
Protests are dismissed by the military, according to the media, because of the
disaster they made out of Centre 1, while the evacuation was still in the process
of ending. The lying is all supported by the police because of greater good and
shit.
Beauty compliments are insults because of Artefact policies
He sees a connection between not helping Unnquk and him not being helped.
Portray the creation of customs (e.g. Somebody that did something peculiar
ended up bad, so the peculiar habit becomes a traditional taboo)
Other Lavonian names: Narseon (mythical Abraham-like founder of the
Lavonians), Elysion, Lumos, Dalnon, Phine, Cassan, Milvan
Hakdan (south) names: Galthosh, Margal, Nephtar, Krizal
Free cities list: Dhilin Soulin, Bahong, Kaylin, Mowong
(*monstra de dialog): traducere din limba necunoscuta
Self-image makes you look the way you do as a ghost, so blind people’s ghosts
are invisible
Tap into
Humanity’s most feral, raw, unprocessed form
Weird tradition not practiced near the capital: killing an elder in the process of
making them a ghost in a ritual;
When he bows to someone on the other continent, they think he is trying to suck
dick;
Golden Sea- Between Lanvos and Rhovna.
LINEN KAFTANS are worn in Nan Hay, The Colony and some of the Cities
Ominous sounds
THEMES: find place in world, family, bullying/abuse/neglect (chapter 10) and
para-social relationships (chapter 10), nazbols are not obvious, independence,
understanding others, radicalisation and deradicalization (second half, includes
forgiveness), what it means to be family, dealing with nihilism, desperation
and fear (Paul Bear Mutiny subplot)
-support governmental control on drugs instead of banning them by having the
people outside Lanvos smoke homemade khala and drugs, sacrificing your well-
being for justice,