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Book 1 — Chapter 51

Published Spring 2026

Day: Hynyengo

Date: 37

Month: Nokaokarium

Quarturn: 1618

City/Town: Loeesuvu

Country: Saettee

“Wake me when we get there, please,” Miles spoke in a drained voice. “I don’t want to miss the remote coupling.”

Ash took her eyes off Miles — who was sitting in the rear seating area of the highly modified DTV — and looked toward O’cerne, who grinned broadly and assured Miles. 

“I don’t think I’ll need to. It’ll make a nasty din that can wake the dead.” 

“Given my current state,” Miles breathed out with a light groan, “‘waking the dead’ is applicable.” 

She felt the smile come to her with Miles’ poke at himself. A jest that pulled a chuckle from O’cerne, who continued maneuvering through the streets of Loeesuvu. 

Though her mind quickly found a concern. For while Miles had shown a great deal of improvement — and healing of his injuries — through the induction of the generic HEAL, she observed the side effects had taken a particular hold. Most noticeably, the lethargy. She wondered if he shouldn’t have been under more careful monitoring.

But almost as soon as the thought presented itself, so did the denial of this as the source. 

She closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath — both to calm and fuel her mind’s evaluation of her emotional state.

Her thoughts quickly drew her to the core conditions she was feeling. Including alarm. Though in her examinations, the cautions that moved through her didn’t have a notable cause. She was safe and heading home. Yet, they remained — as if she were perceiving a far-off storm, dark and foreboding, slowly spreading out across her sky and threatening her.

However, the analogy she had imagined could not take hold; O’cerne caught her attention as he — with a tone of encouragement — made a recommendation to Miles.

“We have a stop-and-go drive that will take a short while. Have a power nap.” 

Miles didn’t respond; his audibly rhythmic breathing indicated he was already asleep.

 

She again felt a grin pull at the corner of her lips, thinking of the sweetness of Miles dreaming away.

 

A sigh touched her lips as she turned her attention out of the side window — and out into the city of Loeesuvu.

It wasn’t a large city, from what she could discern. Regardless, it was spacious and charming. There was a visible farrago of buildings, as the city didn’t appear to have any noticeable zoning. Homes next to businesses, next to schools, next to government facilities — creating a mismatch of sizes and contrasting façades. All of it clean, kept, and certainly not detracting from its appeal.

She let forth another vocal sigh as the environment brought something to mind. A question she asked in a low voice, in an attempt not to rouse Miles.

  

“This is a very pretty city. I’m surprised more people from Minu don’t migrate down here. Does Saettee have a population cap?”

 

“No. Last time I read, they were trying to bring more people in,” O’cerne responded with a pleasant, but less reserved, volume. “No. I believe the reason people from the south of Minu don’t migrate here is that they are just too poor to do it. In my experience, mobility — in the economic sense — isn’t just upwards or downwards; it’s also lateral. Keep people poor enough, and they can’t move laterally. Can’t escape their situation, their physical circumstances. Convinced it’s done by design. They keep them poor, and in turn, it becomes a form of slavery. Even more so when you look at how Minu keeps pushing more and more legislation that criminalizes poverty. It puts people into the legal system, which helps fund the system that created it all in the first place.”

Her head nodded emphatically as she released a wordless sound of agreement, which prompted her to expound on her verging thoughts.

 

“It’s interesting you mention the criminalization facet. My mama is a trolley driver. Just the other day, she was telling me how there are people who, on bitter days, will ride the entire shift. As long as they pay the fare and don’t cause trouble, she doesn’t bother them. These people are so impoverished, they need a warm and safe place to exist where they won’t get harassed — if only for a little while. It’s not technically against policy, but Minu is trying to change that. Says it’s profit protection for the companies because … I don’t know … it cuts down on space for other paid commuters or it expends more energy, cost ratio … whatever stupid reasoning they’re pulling out of their ass.”

 

“Yeah,” O’cerne scoffed. “Protection for the companies, without acknowledging the cause behind why people do that. The lack of safety nets.”

She watched as O’cerne shook his head and spoke in a mocking and impersonating voice.

 

“Oh, but safety nets will make people lazy, they cry.”

 

His head again shook in disgust as his matching emphasis continued.

“But what they really fear is they know that safety nets will allow people to be free. And they can’t have that.”

 

“You speak with a lot of passion about this topic. I appreciate that,” she offered with sincerity.

“Not to boast, but I’m not myopic about it,” O’cerne clarified. “I well understand not everyone in poverty is wholly blameless. I have worked at a couple transition shelters we have here. Sometimes, people with shit intentions and some serious failings bring drugs, problems, and violence in with them. But in my experience, they are the few. Just make enough noise to drown out the others. But overall, I know the score. Plus, Porter is an excellent influence on me in that respect. I fully agree with him that lack of worker protection and safety nets keeps the exploitation economy churning.”

 

As he navigated around a circular intersection, he let out a gentle hum of concentration, then continued his thoughts. 

 

“I will admit, I carry some personal intensity concerning it. It sends me reeling when I think how weak you have to be to kick people around when they don’t have the resources to kick back.”

She studied the side of his face, watching his mouth purse with the thoughts that were moving through his mind. She felt a gentle smile move to her lips as she breathed out a subdued chuckle, and she commented. 

 

“I agree with your general statement. Though your expressions tell me this isn’t only based on a broad observation.”

 

“It’s not,” he confirmed. “One of the most enraging moments of my life, which turned into one of the saddest, was when my Civil Security partner and I came across a man who crossed the border. We could tell he was in distress. When we approached him, he had the most extreme outbursts of fear I’ve ever seen. He sobbed, fell to his knees, then prostrated himself before us and begged us not to beat him. It took a while for us to calm him, but when we did, he explained he had just been beaten by HEAGEN. He was an older man, and to see him sob and beg literally made my mouth water, like I was going to vomit. You know that sensation?”

She was keenly aware of the process by which the mouth seemed to lubricate itself prior to vomiting. But it wasn’t just from illness, she too had felt that sensation when being met with the horrors that she had been introduced to since her return to Melchior.

Though, as the question remained unanswered, she moved around the current dryness of her mouth, and she responded with a soft, but slightly cracked, “I do.”

 

He nodded to her response and continued.

 

“We ended up taking him to hospital. He had a broken wrist, a couple of cracked ribs, and internal bleeding. Those shits at HEAGEN beat him for being homeless. He said he couldn’t take it anymore and walked out of Melchior all the way to Saettee. He left his employment, his friends, because of the sub-animals that are HEAGEN and the sub-animals that run Minu that made it a life-or-death choice for him to stay.”

 

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Obviously from your language, you have some serious indignation towards HEAGEN.”

 

“Just the sight of HEAGEN causes an adrenaline rush that moves my hand to my weapons. I loathe those monsters.”

“I can empathize with that,” she admitted in a soft voice.

 

But her mind was roiling. The considerations and deliberations of the ‘why’ were coming forth chaotically. It prompted her to let out a vocal breath of frustration as she allowed her thoughts to come forth.

 

“I was shielded from this. I, of course, was cognizant of my and my family’s situation, but my parents got me out the only way they knew how. In a way, I believe they would’ve been happy for me to have never returned. Not because they didn’t miss or love me. Quite the opposite. They were less worried about me far away in Michi than down the road in Melchior. Especially with HEAGEN around. But what gets me is, I don’t understand what the endgame for them is. The whole of what is happening in Minu. What’s the point of keeping people so destitute? What is it that they, the powers that be, want?”

“My unfiltered opinion, along with my objective knowledge,” O’cerne asked in a questioning intonation, one not requiring a response. “Two reasons. One: they want you to die. It’s simply passive eugenics. Poverty enervates people to an extreme. Mind, body, and soul. And when it does, it’s a way to thin out the herd. Two: for those that are strong enough to survive, they want your labor. Your nameless, faceless, obedient labor. Minu has declared war on you as citizens. And I’m happy to see some of you, like yourself, are declaring war in return.”

She swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat. Produced from the instant realization that O’cerne was most likely right. The power class wanted her either dead or abjectly subservient. It was a horror of indifference and rapacity that struck her tongue as she tried to speak with a crack in her murmur.

 

“I don’t know if what we did would be considered war. I … I’m not dismissing what we did, but I doubt we’re going to change the world. Make it slightly more tolerable, yes. But …”

She couldn’t finish her words; the consternation from O’cerne’s remarks were striking her hard and weakening her speech.

 

It was something that seemed to be apparent, as O’cerne cleared his throat and raised the inflection of his voice.

 

“I think that’s enough shop talk for now. As you and I are most likely destined to be in one another’s lives via Porter, Wayra, and … others, I think we should get to know each other better. So tell me, Ash. What are some things that will get me on your bad side?”

She released a laugh as the jarring shift in topic and tone was welcome. Another laugh came forward as she considered his question and, coming to an honest conclusion, responded.

 

“Lies. Inauthenticity. Disingenuousness. All that deceptive shit. I’m sick to death of it all. It’s far too pervasive in the world, and it instantly burns my cheeks. Though I’m not unfair. I do make allowances for omissions, as there are oftentimes very good reasons for excluding information. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

She glanced at O’cerne, who chuckled and nodded with understanding.

 

“How about you?” she asked.

​“I’m going to admit, I’m not as allergic to lies as you are. But I will keep your preferences in mind when engaging you,” he replied with a chuckle. “As to what will get people on my bad side … eh … aside from anything HEAGEN-related, I honestly don’t know. I wouldn’t say I’m a pushover, but I do lean towards the tolerant in most things. Though  — and I know I’m not unique in this  — but very protective of my family and friends. Bring them grief, and I will return the favor 10 times over.”

 

“I utterly concur!” she stated with a raised voice that hinted at anger. “I’m provoked when someone I care about is tampered with.”

 

“So you’re intense,” O’cerne supposed with a hesitation. “Can tell by your accentuation that’s a firm threshold I won’t be pressing.”

“No. I wouldn’t say I’m intense. I can boil with the best of them given the proper circumstances,” she let a vocal whine move forward as she considered she was giving the impression she was an angry person and wished to rectify that as she explained. “Oh! I’m starting to feel bad because you’ve caught me in a fiery streak. I promise you, I’m not usually aggressive. Honestly, at times like this, I’m shocked how irate I can become, when the other 98 percent of the time, I truly just was to give love and be loved.”

O’cerne voiced an “aww” to her comment and then began to chuckle as he responded.

 

“That’s actually damn cute, I gotta say. I didn’t mean to say you’re coming off as unpleasant. So let me rephrase my observation with a metaphor. Your wells run deep. You certainly don’t feel in the shallows.”

 

“I can live with that description.”

 

“Good,” O’cerne chirped, before asking in a teasing manner. “But theoretically, if I were to inadvertently provoke you, or better  —  again theoretically  —  if I were aiming to cordialise myself to you, what would I need to do to build such rapport?”

 

Her laugh emoted with a great deal more sound than she was intending, as she was enjoying his brand of humor. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to make certain she had not awakened Miles with her noise. Seeing he hadn’t stirred, she returned her focus to O’cerne and answered in a direct stress.

 

“Feed me!” 

 

“That, I can do,” O’cerne responded with a chuckle. “ I think …” 

 

“Do me a bother?” Miles’ voice suddenly arose with a befuddled question. 

 

She quickly turned her head to examine him, as the tone of his accent surprised her. As she looked him over, his eyes still closed and a continued unintelligible mumble moved from his lips, she realized Miles was talking in his sleep. 

 

Suddenly a more forceful snap moved forward, one that indicated he wasn’t pleased with the conversation that was unfolding in his dreams. 

 

“Don’t be speaking reckless at me! You’re fixing to havrn …”

 

As his words trailed off again into incoherent mutters, she couldn’t help but giggle as she turned her attention back to O’cerne as he asked. 

 

“Talking in his sleep?” 

 

“Talking in his sleep,” she confirmed.

 

“That northern Galu woods-people in him is making an appearance,” O’cerne observed with his own chuckle before he continued. “One of the side effects of that generic HEAL, I understand. Vivid dreams and talking in one’s sleep. But otherwise, he’s reacting positively to it. Almost all healed, from what I can tell.” 

 

“Yes, indeed,” she responded, followed by a vocal breath that accompanied a light groan.  

 

It was a sound that she knew carried with it a great deal of context — internally and externally. One she hoped O’cerne wouldn’t interpret as, again, showing her angry side. She turned her attention to the side window, looking away, and noticed the buildings were becoming further apart as they were moving out of the city proper and into more rural country. 

 

However, her hopes that O’cerne wouldn’t read into her sounds went without success, as he chuckled for a moment and commented. 

 

“There was a textbook lament, if ever I’ve heard one. And while we had decided to change the subject, I have to say again how intrepid you both were. Worthy of admiration to the highest levels. Too, you’ve got to know how brilliant you were to come up with, and execute, such a plan on the rush. Hope you’re giving yourself due credit. You showed sincere moral and physical courage. Not that I expected anything less.” 

 

Her myriad of thoughts all came to a halt; she felt her head tilt in question to O’cerne’s comments, wondering how he could make such a deep assessment. 

 

She felt a chortle come to her, and she asked. 

 

“Curious why you said that. That you wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

 

“That’s me imposing a generalization on you,” O’cerne clarified. “You see, my father instilled in me a great deal over my life thus far. The one that is applicable to this is he taught me that while anyone is capable of anything, there are traits that are inextricable to men and women. One of those traits is that women are the leaders. When the noise is set aside, women rise as leaders. It’s the natural order of things. That’s why I said I didn’t expect anything less. You were put into a situation and the natural order came forward. You led. And did so brilliantly.”

 

“I …” she stumbled on her words, as O’cerne’s explanation had surprised her. “I mean, you did preface that by saying that anyone was capable, implying men can be leaders, too. I’m just not sure if I subscribe to the idea that women are the default leaders. What would that make the default for men?” 

 

O’cerne laughed boisterously as he shook his head — expressing an emphatic, but silent, “No.” It was a reaction that was seemingly not a response to her question, but to his internal thoughts, and perhaps, answer. He provided insight as his laugh subsided, and with an amused noise, he elaborated.

“You know, I want to say that men, by default, are the protectors; but that’s not even accurate. Going off on a tangent here, but stay with me. You may not know this, but open borders aside, Saettee has one of the more stringent paths to citizenship. When I moved here from Minu, looking to gain residency, one of the conditions was that you have to log in a couple hundred hours of volunteer work as part of your citizenship requirements. The point of doing that is part assimilation, and part what the government calls the cultural value of connectedness, instilling civic behavior. Working proof you’re invested in the community and connected to the people you’ll be sharing said community with.”

 

“That sounds bureaucratically expensive,” she noted with a light groan of adjacent angst to the consideration of what all that might entail in the implementation of such a program. 

 

“You would imagine, and it’s good you’re thinking ahead, because this is bringing me to my point,” O’cerne responded with spirit. “They get around a lot of the government office labor by having aspiring citizens choose to enlist their hours through established charities and foundations. Those places receive tax incentives for welcoming people on board temporarily and reporting the work on behalf of the citizenship volunteers. So in the requirement for my citizenship, I ended up signed with four different organizations. And do you know what I saw?”

 

“I couldn’t say,” she admitted, as her smile and interest were rising to what she was finding fascinating about Saettee’s culture. 

 

“Women,” O’cerne stated with emphasis. “In these well established organizations that functioned with high numbers of volunteers far outside the scope of what any citizenship requirement could supply, I worked with a majority of women. And keep in mind, these were not easy jobs. I aimed for volunteer work that would pad my Civil Security résumé and ended up doing some serious anti-poaching and other defensive duties as an example. I was out there with a predominance of women: building, protecting, saving, and being led by. It was a lesson learned organically that while it might seem natural to ascribe men as the protectors, from my experience, women fill that role in abundance as well. It’s something I’ve seen my whole life. I recognize it and honor it.”

 

O’cerne paused as his mouth turned in a light grin as he continued. 

 

“So to your question of what would make the default for men … I really don’t know. Maybe imperatorial farceurs?” 

 

She felt the laugh come to her with spirited energy as she teased O’cerne through her amusement. 

 

“Imperatorial farceurs? Dear Deo, help me. Another goofy-ass joke peddler to contend with.”

 

O’cerne responded with a vigorous cackle to her tease, but she couldn’t let her spinning thoughts stay in her mind, as she calmed herself to giggles and continued. 

 

“I have to say, I’m so absorbed in everything you’ve shared with me. From the citizenship requirements — which are intriguing in their purpose towards community assimilation — to what you’ve been taught through your father and experiences. This is why I love meeting people. Hearing their thoughts and processes to see where they are coming from. It really is all engrossing.”

 

“Have I persuaded you, then? Of the true natural order is women as leaders and protectors?” O’cerne asked with a chuckle. 

 

“Sorry to say, you haven’t,” she confessed. “While I will acknowledge that you obviously have had some excellent principles and developments that would inform your opinion, I don’t think it’s enough to convince me to accede to your assertions. Plus, I have my own biases. One of which is that I don’t care for labels. I find them limiting. Even if they are empowering, and in this case, a bit flattering. I lean towards coequality; subscribing more to the wisdom of the tenets established after the Bottleneck. The ‘only a spoiled society relies on arbitrary gender roles.’ I try not to be insular about it. I’ll grant that there are marked differences between men and women. But not enough to attribute a natural order that goes beyond biology.” 

 

“That’s fair,” O’cerne admitted with a still-confident voice. “However, you raise a question. Beyond biology. Who says leadership and protection aren’t biological markers?” 

 

She felt the breath of slight deference come out in a vocal huff as she countered. 

 

“You have a point, but again, not enough for me to acquiesce to your opinion. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one.” 

 

She watched O’cerne’s grin fade slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. It was a moment that prompted her to share an observation of her own. One that she hoped would bring O’cerne’s smile back in full. 

 

“If I am wrong, and these traits are indeed intrinsic, it is worth remarking that men — the imperatorial farceurs you labeled them as being — aren’t simply fools. Farceurs of history were seen as visionaries in a way. Being socially liminal by definition, and allowing them to hold a mirror up to all parts of society: letting us see the uncomfortable insights about ourselves that always traversed the absurd to the criminally tragic. They played their role well in correcting society, and shouldn’t be unsung.”

 

She watched as O’cerne smiled brightly, but as his lips turned, they moved to an ornery grin that reflected his thoughts as he shared them. 

 

“Deo dammit, they said you were a deosis in physical form, they weren’t exaggerating.”

“Oh! Absolutely not!” she exclaimed with a titter. “They were indeed exaggerating. I’m no such thing.” 

 

“You calling Porter and Wayra liars?” O’cerne asked with a tease in his voice. 

 

It was a pitch she understood for the question not to be taken seriously. But it was a query that still tripped her thoughts and subsequent response, as she stumbled over her words as they came out in protest. 

 

“That’s not! I meant! Dammit! Don’t you start with me!”

 

O’cerne let out a howl of laughter; he had found a great deal of humor in unsettling her in a playful manner. But before she could protest further, O’cerne released a happy sigh from his laugh and announced. 

 

“Well, this too is something we’ll have to agree to disagree, for the time being, as we are here.” 

 

Her eyes moved forward out the front window to examine the site before her. 

 

To her surprise, the view wasn’t anything particularly remarkable. A gated lot — not much larger than 200 square meters, she surmised — surrounded by the only indication that the area had any importance: a tall palisade fence. 

 

Through the gate, she could see the plot remained mostly wilderness; the grasses, weeds, and tiny flowers were untouched by artificial maintenance, standing tall and swaying gently with each passing breeze. However, it was not all nature’s domain; in the center of the parcel was a raised platform and its ramp that appeared to be made of concrete, with its shifting hues of grey. 

 

As O’cerne slowed the DTV down to a crawl, he proceeded to press a series of buttons on the forward console, granting access to the lot as the gate opened, allowing them to continue.

 

With no hesitation, the DTV moved forward — causing some of the more robust weeds to scrape and snap gently against the hull of the vehicle. But as they moved up the ramp and onto the platform, those sounds halted, with only the ambient noise of the always-present hum of the magnetics and their engines remaining. 

 

Before she could inquire about anything that was happening, O’cerne turned in his seat, reaching back towards Miles, and grabbed his knee, shaking it with light force as he spoke. 

 

“Miles. Buddy. We’re here at the pickup. The remote is only a couple minutes out.”

Miles’ body jumped with a mild startle, sucking in air quickly, causing him to snort. But whatever jarring he experienced was quickly diminished as his smile brightened before his eyes were fully open as he commented in an appreciated pitch. 

 

“Ope. Yeah, no, for sure. Thank you so much, my guy.”

 

She watched as Miles used his finger and thumb to rub his eyes and coax them open. Upon opening, he blinked a couple of times, adjusting his sight, and then darted his focus around and out windows, looking for the remote. 

 

As she turned her attention back to O’cerne, her own thoughts on the remote came to the forefront, as did her apprehension. She brought in a deep breath, trying to calm her rising tension as she asked. 

 

“And you’re sure this is safe?” 

 

O’cerne, whose focus was on a small screen located on the forward console, nodded his head and replied with a pronouncement of certainty through sarcasm. 

 

“Well, I don’t want to die in this thing! I wouldn’t be using these if I thought that was a probability. The only reason they aren’t widely available right now is that the DTVs, as you can see, are very specialized. As are the remotes. I know it seems sketchy, but Saettee — as in the government — hasn’t approved them for general use yet, as they are letting us Civil Security and other associated departments test them out. See how well they really get along with other airships. And so far so good.” 

 

“Not that I’m complaining, as I’m pumped I get to experience one, but why are we even going all the way down to Tishomin?” Miles asked. 

 

“Watchers,” O’cerne answered plainly. “We got reports that Watchers were monitoring public transit and airships coming in and out of several of the northern cities, including Loeesuvu. HEAGEN asked them to find you. Not that they know who you are precisely. Thankfully, they have no clue. But HEAGEN figured you would try to get back into Minu and sent the Watchers out to look for anyone coming across the border or being picked up by airship in the northern cities. We concluded HEAGEN and the Watchers feel you couldn’t have gotten very far into Saettee. So that’s why we are heading far south to Tishomin for the rendezvous to get you back to Minu. We should be there well before evenfall, with enough time to get some food.” 

 

But before Miles could respond, O’cerne spoke in an excited tone.

“It’s here! Don’t be alarmed by the noises. The remote will lower itself onto the top of the DTV, docking its connection into the roof panel. Once it’s made contact and the programs ‘shake hands’ in computer speak, the side arms will come down and wrap around the DTV. That’s where it makes the most racket. Once the arms are closed, it will do a quick check, and if everything is secure, it will take off like any normal airship.”

 

Neither she, nor Miles, had an opportunity to ask any followup questions; as soon as O’cerne had finished explaining, a large thud struck the top of the DTV. It was significant enough that it caused her body to wince, sending her head down, forcing her ears to meet her shoulders. 

 

But as the perceived danger of the ceiling caving in passed, her attention was drawn out the side window; two large, thick molded arms, which were cupped-hand shaped, came into view and slowly began to close around the DTV. 

 

For a moment, it provided her with a hint of amusement, as she felt as if she were part of a skill crane game. Being selected by the giant claw as a hoped-for prize. However, the humor was quickly suppressed by the promised sounds of the metal arms scraping against the DTV’s body, which were unnerving. An edge that only increased as the arms began to squeeze the DTV, causing the sides to bow inwards with the pressure, forcing her to move in her seat closer to the center out of reflex — as she feared it wouldn’t stop — and the arms would break the windows and crush the metal around them. 

 

Her fear passed as only a couple of centimeters of movement later, the arms ceased their action, and the DTV lifted off the platform, rising high into the air. She released the breath she had been holding out with a vocal sigh of relief; she turned her attention to Miles, who chuckled and commented. 

 

“Well, that was pants-crapping terrifying. Not a fan. Not a fan at all.” 

 

It was a statement that caused her and O’cerne to look at one another and burst into resounding laughter, as it was something they could both wholly agree with.

Chapter 51
Chapter 52

Book 1 — Chapter 52

Published Spring 2026

Day: Hynyengo

Date: 37

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

City/Town: Tishomin

Country: Saettee


“The crowd is testing me,” O’cerne muttered in irritation. 

 

It was an utterance that surprised Miles. Not the context of what was said, but that he could actually hear O’cerne over the noise of the numerous people that filled the street market they were moving through. 

 

“You don’t like all these people,” he asked with a chuckle and tease, trying to induce a laugh to his tension. “That strikes me as counterintuitive to your Civil Security job.” 

 

He felt his own smile widen in success — O’cerne’s expression moved from anxiety to good humor as he responded with a chuckle of his own. 

 

“I like people. One of the reasons I joined Civil Security. I, however, am not a fan of them congregating in a single area in such high numbers.”

 

“Why are there so many people here?” Ash asked with bounce in her voice as someone had inadvertently bumped into her, timely illustrating how bustling the central market was.

 

“Tishomin is surrounded by a host of natural wonders and sites, making it a tourist city that, on any half-decent day, sees people with apparently an absurd amount of expendable income coming in droves,” O’cerne answered in a cranky voice and a gesture of irritation. “Shit. Don’t heed me, I’m in hangry mode.”

 

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at O’cerne’s aggravation. It was something he could empathize with, as the hunger pangs had been striking him before they had reached Tishomin — though evidently, his was not as pronounced.

 

His mind drifted back to the trip down. How the remote, which had turned the DTV into an airship, had done its job exceedingly well. An experience that left him both amazed and slightly envious; he found himself wishing he could have been on such a project. He knew it would have been epic levels of challenging and gratifying. A design that demanded credit to the engineers and programmers. For while its introduction wasn’t agreeable to him, it proved itself both safe and fast, arriving at their destination well ahead of schedule. His only complaint — one that had more to do with the city’s configuration than the DTV itself — was that upon arriving, it became clear any negotiating through the parts of town they desired would require walking, as the DTV was far too large to navigate the narrow streets, forcing them to leave the DTV at a far-flung parking area.

Not that strolling along hadn’t been a delightful way to see parts of the city. Granted, the foot traffic in the central market was slow going, as people were shoulder to shoulder. But that aside, the sights, sounds, and smells were engaging all of his senses in the most positive of manners. The variety of foods, wares, and people was eliciting true enjoyment and was determined to soak it all in.

 

It was an encouraging thought that he wished to share; he raised his voice enough that Ash, who was on the other side of O’cerne, could hear. 

 

“While I’m feeling the gut hunger myself, consider our situation as auspicious; our slow walking is giving us the opportunity to study every stall and vendor and learn a little about the area’s cuisine and culture. As example, just look at those grilled fish over there, they look so fresh and smell so damn good; I’m gathering a lot of information just from that one place.” 

 

“Miles. You are so ridiculously optimistic and a perpetual student. It’s infectious and one of the reasons I adore you,” Ash commented with a hearty laugh. 

 

“She’s right,” O’cerne agreed as his eyes moved to the stall, causing his face to shift in thought for a couple moments before he nodded and announced. “You’re right, too. Screw it, my budget isn’t that tight. I’m taking frugal to illogical extremes. We’re getting a snack. If you feel inclined, you can pay me back later, but I need something now.”

 

He felt another laugh come to him as O’cerne pushed past him, and several other people hastily, as if he were in pursuit of a suspect. He looked at Ash, whose eyes and smile were wide with surprise and humor at the speed with which O’cerne had made it to the food stall and was already ordering. 

 

With a gesture, inviting Ash to lead, he made his way next to O’cerne, who was already drinking a large beverage to its bottom as he took a deep breath and let out a satisfied sound of satiation. 

 

Aaaahhh. Okay, that hit the spot. I swear up and down I’m borderline hypoglycemic. There’s a counter and chairs on the back side of the cart. Let’s have a sit down.” 

 

He turned toward the area O’cerne pointed out and was happy to see that Ash had already secured seats for them, as the chairs were few and the stall had more customers lining up.

 

“I’m sorry about that,” O’cerne commented as they sat down. “I’m not a very good host. Shouldn’t be making you wait for food either. Shit. You two are probably more starved than I am, being up in Melchior and living with Akiva is a double strike of bad food luck.” 

“It’s okay,” Ash assured O’cerne with a comforting tap to his arm as she continued with a chuckle. “To take a page from Miles’ upbeat script, you can consider us well-practiced fasters. We’re good. But much better now that we’re getting something in the belly. Though, going to ask something that might come off as crude, given that you’re paying for our way. But went by several booths that offered full-on meals. Why have you passed those up?”

 

As the vendor set large beverages in front of each of them, they paused to acknowledge him with smiles and ‘thank yous.’ But then quickly turned their attention back to O’cerne, who took a prolonged drink, and with another sound of quenching, answered Ash’s question with a chortle. 

 

“You have better manners than I do. I would’ve asked, ‘What the shit?’ a while back. But that’s on me; I should have explained. I’m on a budget right now, as the house needs a new roof. Because of that, we’re making our way to a part of the market that offers graduated pricing for meals.” 

 

“What’s graduated pricing?” he inquired, as his ‘perpetual student’ mind — as Ash had put it — came forward. 

 

“Going to give you the oversimplified explanation, which is still long, so stay with me,” O’cerne responded as he adjusted himself in his seat before he continued. “Saettee, like Minu, has an across-the-board tax system, with very high sales tax. Easy for taxes, but kind of a nightmare for the individual in a buying sense. It was quickly discovered that a person with a salary of, say, 250,000 relits has greater buying power than someone who has a salary of 50,000. The sales tax does not discriminate, which actually in turn discriminates because of the income discrepancy. So a couple decades ago, the government passed what they called the Equality of Access Act. They decided certain things like groceries, some clothing, household necessities, some restaurant food, utilities, and housing would have graduated pricing based on how much the purchaser makes per year. Because of taxes, the government already knows how much you make, so they issue tax cards that you present on purchase, which informs the place you’re buying from how much to charge. So, say I’m buying a piece of fruit, I’m middle class-ish, I would pay two relits. While someone who makes far less than I do would only pay one relit, while someone who earns a great more than I do pays three relits. It’s a way to level out the buying power on essentials. And I do mean essentials. It doesn’t apply to everything you buy. You can get housing on a graduated scale, but the housing for that is very modest. If you want to live in better accommodations, you pay market value.”

 

“And the upper classes are okay with this?” Ash asked, with a tone of bemusement in her voice. 

“You’d think they would complain, but most of the upper classes never patronize the places that have those buying options. They shop at bougie boutiques and artisan stores, so it hardly ever affects them,” O’cerne replied in a matter-of-fact manner. 

 

He felt a grin come to his face; he was deeply interested in what he was learning about Saettee and how it successfully functioned. He felt himself bounce in his seat with involuntary enthusiasm, as a slew of questions were running through his head.

 

“I’m utterly fascinated with this whole concept: this addendum to capitalism. So many questions … how do businesses handle it? Does it have an appreciable return on investment?” 

 

A smirk appeared on O’cerne’s expression as he seemed to find his keenness enjoyable. He nodded as his smile widened and explained.

 

“Ash is right about you. I’m diggin’ it. But to your question: very well, from what I understand. They get all sorts of incentives to implement it. Too, I know they have regular evaluations for quality control; making sure they’re not selling lesser quality products just because people might not pay as much. If they pass the evaluation, they get further incentives. You won’t be finding used food in those markets. Above all else, they’re subsidies that span several industries, and the investment to return margins are astronomical in comparison to general investments. For every one relit spent, the short-term return is 1.68 relits, while the long-term return is one relit to 147 relits because of growing societal value and higher tax revenue futures. On a personal level, I’m a fan of the entire program. I think in this case, the government is spending our money well.” 

 

He felt his mouth slightly agape as he was stunned, in a positive way, by what a functioning government — that understood the fallacy of “entitlements,” as it was the people’s money — could accomplish for its people. It was a moment that evoked both esteem and longing; presenting him with a trice consideration of remaining in Saettee. 

 

It was a thought that never touched his tongue, and yet, as he looked upon both O’cerne and Ash, he noticed Ash’s head cock to the side as a mark of concern washed over her face. As if she were reading his visage and saw the brief desire that struck it.

 

However, before he could address O’cerne’s words or Ash’s expression, all of their attention was taken by the vendor setting down before them an enormous platter of various grilled fish, crustaceans, and mollusks. All paired with sauces that, along with the food, wafted aromas of savory smoke, piquant scents, and heated spices that prompted his mouth to salivate with anticipation. 

 

“I know it looks like a ton of food,” O’cerne commented as he passed the accompanying empty plates to each of them. “But Ash told me I needed to feed her to get on her good side. And I aim to make good on that in such abundance, that I’ll make good with everyone else by extension. Plus, I like you both a lot. And finally, to give you something to brag to Akiva about and make her wildly jealous.” 

 

As he and Ash both burst into boisterous laughter, all his lingering thoughts moved into the background as the happiness and presence of the moment took over.

• • •

“This place is unmitigatedly beautiful,” Ash breathed out in soft wonderment as she looked over the landscape before them. 

 

It was an awe he shared, as the topography was one he had never had the privilege of beholding. 

 

Across the observable terrain was a field of sand dunes that rose and fell over the kilometers. The dunes, in a color of pure snow white, looked to gently shimmer as each fine sand grain reflected light when touched by the sun. And while the desert-like landscape was pretty on its own, it was rendered exquisite by the hundreds of visible lagoons that nestled in the valleys of the dunes. The lagoons, puce in color, were a striking contrast to the white sands and red vegetation that dotted the shores.

 

He felt his breath pull in marvel as he watched a significant wind carry the white sand off a tall dune in the distance, swirling it into the air in a funnel-shaped formation, and then dispensing it to the dunes beyond. He looked at O’cerne, who was standing next to him, and commented in a soft tone. 

 

“Wow! You had said Tishomin was surrounded by natural wonders, but this is beyond what I expected. How does a place like this even form, much less exist?” 

 

O’cerne’s expression lit up with a smile as he seemed particularly pleased with himself. He pulled a roamphone from his pocket and spoke with a chuckle. 

 

“I knew. I just knew you were going to be curious about this place. So I pulled up the information before we got here to give you a bullet-point synopsis.” 

 

O’cerne adjusted his body, appearing to shield his screen from the sun, as he continued and explained. 

 

“As you know, we’re on the east side of Lake Lamanna. And, as you may not know, this lake is very cold, for reasons they don’t list, which causes a significant thermal difference between land and water that affects wind patterns and directs the winds offshore, from east to west, leaving this side of the lake significantly dry. Every year, the dunes can migrate up to 50 meters. The lagoons, which can change locations with the moving sands, are products of underground aquifers fed by the lake. As they rise, they bring with them several different minerals, resulting in high-salinity water, where certain microorganisms thrive, giving the lagoons their puce color. The vegetation is specialized and high in a carotene that gives it its red pigment. Is that enough for you?” 

“Nowhere near,” he retorted with a laugh of humor coupled with amazement. “But I appreciate you reading me so well and anticipating my questions. Very astute of you. Like, what is the sand composed of?” 

 

“This is quartz,” Ash answered in her own soft tone. “Stunning, but always underrated, quartz. There should be larger, solid formations around.” 

 

“The mineralogist is correct,” O’cerne noted with an energetic cadence. “And that is where we should be heading, as we are late. And Miles, you will just have to be happy for the time being with the limited information you have. But you can look forward to the homework you’ll have when you get back. This way.” 

 

As he lowered his head, to keep an eye on his footing, he followed O’cerne, who walked down the dune they were standing, knowing they were definitely late; he, too, had noticed the sun was racing towards the horizon and they had yet to fully make the rendezvous. 

 

But the delay was their own fault. The snack they had stopped for turned into a time drain, as they ate and conversed happily for far longer than they had planned. Not that he had minded, as the food was some of the best seafood he had ever eaten and the conversation was lively and engaging. Thereafter, the walk through the central market, to procure proper meals, took longer as “people watching” and “window shopping” became more prevalent, slowing their progress. A pattern that didn’t change after obtaining the meals, as the walk back to the DTV was also a meandering affair.

 

As they made it to the base of the dune, he didn’t feel the shifting sands under feet, but a more solid foundation that prompted him to look up. And what he saw surprised him to the point that he exclaimed aloud.

 

“What the! How did I not see this Sanctuary down here? Or that huge freakin’ tower up there on that other dune?”

 

“The dunes, the lagoons, combined with other environmental factors, can cause optical illusions that can make them invisible at certain angles,” O’cerne explained with a chuckle. “I read that on the information site, too. Excuse me for one moment.” 

 

He felt a curiosity touch his brow for several reasons as he watched O’cerne move towards the, what looked to be closed, Sanctuary. But his secondary question, concerning the visual phenomenon, came forward by reflex as he asked aloud to no one in particular. 

 

“Invisible?”

“It’s a mirage due to temperature inversion. The air bends light rays and can make objects look like they’re floating, closer than they are, or not there,” Ash expounded with a chuckle as she mused. “I’m surprised, you being all science-y, wouldn’t have …” 

 

His brow was again touched by interest. Only this time by Ash’s unexpected pause and focused attention far and away. 

 

Suddenly, Ash breathed in with a vocal gasp and released a cheep of exhilaration as she dashed up an adjacent dune towards the tower. 

 

It was a run that, while he wasn’t clear on its reason, still prompted him to follow with as much urgency as Ash was demonstrating. Though his urgency was diminished, as his footing on the sands wasn’t as secure; she moved with far more agility, causing a gap between them that was widening with every step, allowing her to crest the hill of the dune, and out of his sight.

 

Ash’s disappearance brought a strange and conflicting emotion to his pursuit. His logical mind had processed that she had expressed a sound of happiness before she left, indicating whatever she was heading towards was pleasant. However, his fight-or-flight response, despite the days of relative safety, was still on a hair-trigger — leaving him overly stimulated and not regulating properly. It was a flash of realization of just how much his nervous system had been altered since everything began; something he made a mental note to address. He was resolved to rein it in and regain control.

 

Yet, he knew something else was lingering on the edges of his mind. Questions and recognition he would be forced to face soon. 

 

But as he was near the top, he pushed the impeding thoughts from his mind and focused on the moment. A moment that, once he reached the peak, all of his internal alarms immediately ceased as both relief and his own happiness burst through his being; for his eyes came upon Ash embracing a joyously squealing Raer. 

 

As he moved next to them, his smile brightened further, as Raer pulled from Ash’s arms and brought her hands up to Ash’s face, wiping the elated tears away as she spoke. 

 

“Dear Deo, I’m so happy to see you. I was so worried about you. I know you’re an adult and I don’t need to worry about you. But I can’t help myself.” 

 

“No,” Ash interjected with a sniff, calming her tears. “You don’t worry about someone because you don’t have faith in them. You worry because you love and care for them.”

 

“Thank you for understanding,” Raer remarked gently as she bounced back into Ash’s arms for another squeeze. “I’m going to write that down and use it for my Consign work.” 

He took the opportunity to move in towards Raer as Ash pulled away, enabling her to clean her face as she spoke around a chuckle. 

 

“Not to be slighting, but you’re usually the one to cry, Raer. I think I caught your dramatic. I’m just so happy to see you. This whole ordeal was such an … ordeal.” 

 

“To say the least,” Raer stated as she reached out and brought him into an embrace, pulling him down for his ear to meet her mouth as she whispered. “Thank you, Miles.” 

 

His eyes closed by reflex, as not only was her voice soothing, but her hug was bringing a comfort that was near ethereal. Firm, yet gentle, with a rub to his back that brought warmth and calm. It was so present and intentional, that he even noted Raer was mindful of his shoulder, not pressing too hard onto it and potentially aggravating the injury. All of it, a combined effort to instill peace and certainty in the moment; which he suddenly realized he needed. 

 

As he pulled away, he released his happy sigh as he commented. 

 

“I’ve said it before, you give the best hugs. I mean, between you and Ash, I know the best huggers in the world. You really are soul-sisters.” 

 

He enjoyed the smiles that were brought about by his honest reflection. Expressions held both by Ash and Raer. But as his mind was stirring again at an increased pace, he looked around and asked. 

 

“Where is everyone else?”

 

Raer glanced at Ash with a concerned expression, as if the answer might not please her. But she didn’t dwell on what considerations may have been moving through her mind as she responded in an apologetic tone. 

 

“It’s only me and Porter. He parked the airship behind the Sanctuary, as it’s only open during peak visitor hours. But the reason it was us only to come was Wayra was still having sights that were giving him distress. He wanted to be extra cautious on how we executed your pickup, as even without the incident still fresh, Minu and Saettee are not on the friendliest of terms. Everyday border crossings are looked at with scrutiny. My coming over as a Consign doesn’t look particularly suspect, as we travel so often. However, we decided to go with a bit of a ruse. When I rented the airship, I told the attendant casually that I was retrieving some donations from a Sanctuary down here, hence one reason we chose this location. But further, if they do find any reason to be skeptical, and do something like check the location tracker or the load weight sensor log, they will see where the ship went, and the weight difference coming and going. Another reason we’re not in a hurry: to sell the intentions of legitimate donation transport, as it would take time to load items. Though an added benefit is, we’ll arrive back at the airship yard well after they close; giving us the advantage of privacy and night.”

He looked at Ash, who took a deep vocal breath and nodded. 

 

“I anticipated this wouldn’t be a movie-esque reunion. Regardless, I’m giddy with you being here. Might not be Wayra, but you’re a lateral best.” 

 

“Oh!” Raer exclaimed with a gush as she brought her hands up to her mouth with emotion. “Ash! You’re going to make me cry. Making me feel so loved. Thank you.” 

 

Raer returned to Ash’s arms as they both giggled in their embrace. 

 

It was a genuinely sweet moment, though his mind was still considering what Raer had said. Their plan and how they were carrying it out. He amazed aloud.

 

“Shit! I’m giddy with the plan y’all came up with. I don’t know if it’s just because we have a couple of the best Attatas I’ve ever seen in our midst. Or it’s because everyone is so damn smart. But I cannot get over how crazy-cool you all are.” 

 

“I think it’s because of how gifted Wayra and Naira are as Attatas, that he can surround himself with quality, nimble-witted people,” Raer concurred.

 

“I like that. Nimble-witted,” Ash voiced with a chuckle as she continued. “We brought food for you to help burn time. Though I’m sure you’re up here to do a little sightseeing.”

 

“You know me so well,” Raer confirmed with a laugh. “I had to see the tower. And actually was just about to perform a prayer.” 

 

He looked at the tower and realized this had been the first, of all the towers abound, he had ever seen outside of pictures. 

 

The towers — or the Grand Towers, as they were more formally known — were famous pre-Bottleneck structures that numerously dotted the landscape across the world. The towers all shared similar features that seemed to be prescriptive. Cylindrical in shape, mostly hollow within their walls, and all standing at exactly 56.5 meters tall. Though some variations were present among the towers — with accents around the cylinder, belfry-esque tops, and some with bartizans — the divergences were deemed noteworthy, as their appearance didn’t align stylistically with any adjacent architectural ruins.

 

Though such cosmetic discrepancies were far down the list of interest, as perhaps their most shared feature was their purpose was wholly unknown. Only myth, rumors, and conjecture ascribed any meaning to their purpose. People in many scientific fields had studied it, from cultural studies to astronomy. None able to inform beyond speculation. 

For him, it was striking him with a strange sensation. One of marvelment. But too, a sense of portent. Granted, given the mysterious nature of the towers, any presage might have been a fancy, based on their mystifying history. Yet, he wasn’t so quick to handwave away the augury; he just filed it away in his mind to return to later and meditate on. 

 

His attention turned back to Raer as he realized he had been standing in silence while he examined the tower. He shook his head and laughed as he explained. 

 

“I’m sorry, it’s my first time seeing one in person. I got engrossed. You were saying something about a prayer?”

 

“Yes, indeed,” Raer confirmed with excitement in her voice. “This tower is supposedly a special one. Over there is a sort of door. If you speak into the door, it echoes up through the tower and gets extremely loud. The lore is, Deo can hear your prayers better; above all others. People have even claimed to be cured of illness here and have all sorts of prayers answered. Hence why I was going to pray. Would you like to join me?” 

 

“Of course!” Ash declared with certainty. “We’ll do that now.” 

 

He nodded in his own agreement as Ash locked arms with Raer, and the two of them led him towards the door mentioned. His mind was still absorbing the tower, as impressions abounded. One came to mind that he figured Ash could answer as he asked. 

 

“Hey. Mineralogy expert. If the echo has an associated lore, it must be pretty intense. What could the tower be made of to make it that way?” 

 

As they came to the door, Ash reached out her free arm and touched the façade of the tower with its white and grey marbling colors. Moving her hand slowly across it, as she was studying its makeup through touch and appearance.

 

“In nature, you find the best vertical forms are in igneous or metamorphic rock,” Ash expounded as she pulled her hand away and continued. “And while obviously it’s resting on a solid rock foundation under these sands, this isn’t wholly natural. Honestly, I think this is engineered quartz with maybe some marble. It’s definitely a composite. It’s hard, smooth, non-porous, and is certainly going to acoustically perform, reflecting the sound waves well. The resonance … It’s meant to amplify and carry vibrations, too. This … this is interesting.” 

 

“A problem?” Raer asked. 

 

“No. None,” Ash assured Raer with a smile. “It’s just something I’m going to have to mentally put a red pin in. Need to come back and think about this some more. That’s all. Now go ahead and pray.” 

 

He was amazed, but not surprised, at Ash’s ability to determine the composition of the tower so quickly and easily, and most likely, accurately. But he didn’t have a chance to praise Ash’s intelligence. As Ash and Raer stepped up closer to the door, Raer lowered her voice and turned her head away from the door as she pointed out.

“I’m going to sing the prayer, okay?” 

 

They both nodded as Raer turned back towards the door and took a deep breath to prepare. It was a moment that inspired him to place his hand across their touching shoulders, to join them in a moment that was sacred to Raer. 

 

As the first notes left Raer’s lips, his eyes closed by reflex; he found Raer’s singing voice to be one of true beauty. It was something that always provided chills down his spine. But as the tower reverberated the sound, making the song echo and linger, it was raising bumps on his skin: the involuntary reaction of his rising emotions of serenity. 

 

And while he was almost fully absorbed in the moment, the small part of his mind that wasn’t awash in feeling realized that Raer wasn’t singing in Agglomerate. She was singing in Attata to a melody he had heard before. He focused on the words Raer was vocalising.

 

Deo noke’aok, 

me tawea.

Nebe ha. 

Nebe ha. 

Yachae ahje 

nokamat. 

A ahaya 

oamawha. 

Whaahle yoh yaee. 

Whaahle yoh yaee.”

 

With the ending of the song, he opened his eyes and lifted them up towards the top of the tower as the echoes were still rising. Then, with the last sound sent towards the heavens, they all stepped back several steps from the door in unison, allowing them to talk at their normal volume. 

 

Although coherent conversation was not shared; Ash seized the moment and, with a sound of joy, she embraced Raer and rocked her from side to side, continuing her wordless expression.

 

It was one that made him laugh as he offered his compliments to Raer. 

 

“My music teacher told me to always play as if Deo was listening. And while you know I love your voice, that moment was … your voice is eloquence personified. You sang for Deo. And I do believe the world, and Deo, held for a moment to hear you.” 

 

“Miles! No!” Raer cried with a tone of bashfulness. “You’re going to make me weep with such favorable regards. You’re too kind.”

 

“But he’s not wrong,” Ash argued for him with a gush. “That was sublime, my dearest. And I will say, there may be some credibility to the lore, as I could feel the vibrations and resonance has been proven to have healing benefits.”

 

“Thank you,” Raer replied with continued modesty to her pitch. “You’re so lovely to me. You both are answers to prayers spoken many years ago. Thank you.”

 • • •

“I didn’t know you could speak Attata,” he commented to Raer, as they had almost finally reached the bottom of the dune hill. 

 

“I don’t,” Raer clarified. “It’s a common prayer song that I memorized. I’m terrible at languages. I think that part of my brain is broken.” 

 

It was a remark that prompted him to laugh, though he didn’t respond as they had reached the last bits of dune that had blown to what seemed to be almost perfectly vertical. 

 

Most of the trek down from the tower had been that way. While their time at the top of the dune had been brief, the surrounding sands had already swept away their footprints from their climb and altered the gradient of the dune to a steep decline. One that made their descent very slow going, providing them with ample time to talk to one another about their conditions and experiences. With Raer informing them she had brought them clothes to change into, leaving any physical evidence of their time in Saettee, in Saettee.

 

As he made it to the bottom of the dune, to more solid ground, he offered his hand up to Raer in order to assist her in the last step. But his full attention wavered as it was drawn towards the back of the Sanctuary, where O’cerne had disappeared as he and Porter were conversing raucously; with laughter, ribbing, and hugging. It was a moment that struck him with surprise, as Porter never came across to him as a hugger. And in seeing said action, it was testament to how close O’cerne and Porter must have been.

 

With a light sound of impact on the ground, both Ash and Raer were down from the dune, and next to him. He didn’t waste a moment as he led the way towards the airship. Yet, his awareness was being pulled from the destination and to Raer as she released a series of soft noises of concern. They were expressions he didn’t have an opportunity to enquire on, as Porter called out to them with a tease. 

 

There’s the hardened criminals. How was your stint at the greybar hotel?” 

 

“The bars, what little there were, were actually between beige and greige,” Ash retorted with a laugh. “Because apparently color therapy is something they sanction.” 

 

“What the shit is a greige?” Porter asked with a laugh. 

 

“Like a mix of beige and grey. So I guess technically you were partially right about the grey,” Ash explained with her own continued chuckle.

“Technically correct is the best kind of correct,” Porter declared as he held out his hand in greeting as he asked, “How you doing, Miles?” 

 

“I’m much better,” he informed him as they grasped wrists and shook. “Very happy to see you.” 

 

“And I, you,” Porter affirmed with a strong smile. “Both of you. And as far as happy to see someone, let’s get this over with.” 

 

He felt his brow furrow in confusion, as Porter turned his attention to O’cerne and spoke with a mocking voice of encouragement, “Go on.” 

 

His eyes turned to O’cerne, who scowled at Porter with sincerity and shook his head. But as O’cerne seemed to compose himself, his expression changed to one of welcoming as he approached Raer and, once standing in front of her, mumbled a timid “Hello.” 

 

O’cerne didn’t wait for a reply as he moved into Raer’s space and brought her into a hug. It was one that Raer did not immediately reciprocate; her arms remained at her side at first, only slowly rising to return the embrace with tepid energy.

 

It struck him as highly unusual. Not only Raer’s response, but O’cerne’s hold was appearing to be one that was more than just friendly intimacy.

 

“Deo, I’ve been missing you,” O’cerne uttered in a clear tone that denoted yearning.

 

It was at that moment, reading O’cerne’s body language and tone, that his attention turned toward Ash, as he was looking for clarification on what he was witnessing. To his multitudes of satisfactions, Ash had met his intent look and was sharing the same expression he imagined was on his visage. 

 

In synchronicity, they both widened their eyes, a non-verbal communication that was asking rhetorically ‘are you seeing this?’ He felt the smile burst to his face by reflex as the timing between himself and Ash’s “looks” were amusing him greatly. 

 

But as Ash broke their stare, he followed and returned his attention to Raer, who vocally sighed, pulled from O’cerne, and replied with a voice of relinquishment.

 

“I’ve missed you as well.” 

 

Raer’s admittance seemed to be construed by O’cerne as an invitation, as he clearly leaned in to kiss her on the lips. An action that Raer quickly halted, as she backed away, removing herself from his intentions.

 

O’cene offered an apologetic smile and again moved into Raer’s space, only this time to kiss the crown of her head. It was an act that Raer seemed a bit more comfortable with as she smiled graciously.

 

But as that may have been, Porter appeared impatient, as he didn’t allow any further words or actions to continue as he declared. 

 

“Can we get some of that food already? Daylight is burning.” 

 

As O’cerne turned away towards Porter, Raer released tension in her shoulders he hadn’t noticed as they visibly fell with the audible breath she released of relief. An ease that was confirmed when her voice returned to its normal cadence as she reminded Porter.

 

“My bag has food-warming pouches if you need them. It’s still on the ship.” 

 

“Excellent,” Porter responded. “We’ll grab those, along with the maintenance blankets, so we have something to sit on.” 

 

He watched as Porter and O’cerne ascended the airship’s ramp, and once they were out of sight, he bounded towards Raer with a slew of questions in mind that he knew would have to be asked in hushed tones. 

 

But he was not the only one, as Ash reached Raer before him and — with a low-pitched voice — asked first. 

 

“What in Deo’s name was that about?” 

 

“That’s exactly what I was going to ask. Verbatim!” he pronounced with a laugh, interrupting any response Raer might have had. 

 

“When I looked at you and saw your face, I knew you were thinking the same thing,” Ash exclaimed with a chuckle. “Go us!” 

 

Ash raised her hand in the air, indicating she was looking for a palm slap for their shared thoughts. And one he obliged, as they both laughed and moved in a shared success. 

 

But as their laughs subsided, Ash returned her attention to Raer and continued her probe of the situation. 

 

“Okay. No interruptions. First, are you okay? Second, tell us what’s going on.” 

 

“Eeerrr,” Raer growled with a pitch of stress. “Yes, I’m okay. But there’s nothing really to tell.” 

 

“Nothing to tell?” O’cerne interjected with a humorous timbre. “Not even how we are in love. But I chose the easy way. How I bitterly regret it.” 

 

Were in love. As in past tense,” Raer stated firmly. “And you don’t regret it. You have issues like every couple has. Plus, you have two amazing daughters who are your joys. Finally, what’s done is done.”

 

“That I do, and I wouldn’t trade my daughters for the world,” O’cerne confirmed, but proceeded to contest. “However, the rest of your words are fairly inaccurate.”

 

Raer presented a light smile, but her full expression didn’t align with her courteousness. She instead appeared to be highly uncomfortable. A display that was plain to Porter, who inserted himself into the conversation with a commanding tone, one presented as a suggestion. 

 

“This exchange is going to have to continue another time. I’m about to go feral if I don’t get some food in me. Let’s eat.”

• • •

Miles looked out the front window of the rising airship to see that O’cerne was on his way home, via the DTV. 

 

As he sat back into the co-pilot’s chair, he felt a multitude of thoughts and emotions move through him.

 

At the top of the mental hill was the relief of returning to Nokahme. Returning home. It was a thought that produced a smile on his face, as while his time at Nokahme had been short, it had felt like home more than any place he had ever dwelled; and he truly was excited to get back to it. 

 

Though there was also an accompaniment of nervousness upon returning. A worry that he knew wasn’t based in logic. Simply a consideration of what might happen if he and Ash actually had been discovered, and HEAGEN were waiting for them.

 

But such a thought, he reminded himself again, wasn’t rational. For if there was one thing he had learned about HEAGEN — H3s in particular  — was they had little to no impulse control. They craved wielding their unmeritorious ‘authority’ with ferity. He knew that if they had any information on them, HEAGENs’ lack of self-regulation would have already played out with a violent and hasty assault on the rest of their housemates at Nokahme.

 

It was a certainty that put his mind at ease and allowed him to think about other issues that were currently running through his head. 

 

He turned the chair to face where Ash and Raer were sitting, in secondary seats behind the main ones. His attention focused on Raer as he felt a grin curl on his lips as his more intrusive and meddlesome thoughts were presenting themselves as he asked. 

 

“My noggytuck is all abuzz about this whole O’cerne and you thing. Would you be so kind as to satiate it with information?” 

 

“Would you stop reading my mind!” Ash demanded with a teasing emphasis. “I was just about to pry, myself.” 

 

His laugh came out in a burst at Ash’s comment, as he was tickled that they both had the same thoughts. He turned his attention to Raer and raised his eyebrows, imparting the impression that he was waiting. Raer sighed, offered a light smile, and addressed their curiosity. 

 

“Well, O’cerne summed it up pretty well. We caught feelings for each other, and I thought I was in love. I … long story short, I met him during a difficult transition in his life. He and his girlfriend were stagnant and were, at the time, separated. He wanted to work it out between them. She recommended he talk to someone about issues that were beyond their relationship. It was holding weight between them and hurting the connection. He came to Sanctuary and ended up speaking to me. He confided in me deeply private issues. It was all very formal and professional. Then one day, he asked if I would join him for something to eat. I admit, I wanted to spend more time with him, so I said yes. Once the formality of the Sanctuary was removed, so were the boundaries, the inhibitions. He told me he had fallen in love and I … I don’t know. It was nice being in love. But as realities seeped in between us, he made the choice to stay with his girlfriend, as he really does love her. Additionally, it was easier for him in many ways. What his family's expectations were. How his lifestyle would have to change. Being with me is difficult for a host of reasons. He simply didn’t want to give up all he had built. I … I can be very self-pitying and say I wasn’t worth it. And sometimes the thought does cross my mind: that I’m not worth the work. Because love isn’t just a feeling, it’s an action that takes genuine work; my life especially. In that, I cannot fault him for being too exhausted to move with me in this world. His was a good choice. The right choice.”

“Raer,” Ash spoke in a mourning pitch as she stood up, moved to hug Raer from behind as she continued. “You sound so sad. It’s making my heart drop and stomach twist. I’m going to say this … I really like O’cerne, so I’m going to offer him leniency while assigning blame. It’s not that you’re not worth it, my love. It’s that he wasn’t strong enough to be with you. Because to me, you’re worth all the effort. I would move oceans for you.”

 

He felt a sympathetic smile come to his face as Ash kissed Raer on the crown of her head, in the exact spot O’cerne had. It was an act that looked noticeably deliberate, as if Ash, in a symbolic way, had erased O’cerne’s kiss and replaced it with one of sincere sisterly love. An action that Raer seemed to recognize as her smile brightened with genuine gladness as she patted Ash’s arm comfortingly. 

 

As Ash returned to her seat, he offered his own thoughts.

 

“Ash is right. You’re worth any and all work. She’s also right, he’s a very likable person. I like him a lot. But yeah … he’s wrong in this one. Especially since he still loves you.”

 

“He’s unioned,” Raer countered. “With a beautiful family.” 

 

“And?” Ash asked in a questioning tone. “Don’t misunderstand. What you’re implying is perfectly right. That him being in a committed relationship is a serious boundary. But I believe it’s very possible to be in love with more than one person at a time. People are complex. Even more so when we don’t hide from our emotions. You know this; love is infinite.” 

 

“I don’t know,” Raer responded with a skeptical cadence. “I don’t disagree with you in general, I know I love many people. But they’re different categorically. Romantic love isn’t in the same category as, say, parental love.” 

 

He felt another grin come to his mouth as Ash sat back in the chair, crossed her leg over her knee, and showed a smirk that eluded her retort was going to be wholly perspicacious. Ash tilted her head to the side and widened her smile as she spoke. 

 

“Okay. Categorically is it? Are you implying that you’re only allotted one love per category? Because I love both my parents, at once, fully and equally. Those are two individuals in the same category that you have ascribed. So unless that is your rigid partition, where only one person per, then my point still stands. Yes. You can be in love with more than one person at a time.”

 

“And you wouldn’t want to invalidate polyamorous relationships, would you?” Porter asked, requesting less of an answer and more of a consideration.

 

Uuuhh,” Raer breathed out in a sound of defeat. “No, you both have valid points. And this right here is why I always try to push romantic counsel over to other Consigns.”

 

“That’s okay, sweetness. I’m not pointing this out to give you some false hope that he’ll be back. My concern is that you’ll take this to illogical extremes. I know you. You still have feelings. Despite what you say. And I don’t want you to forgo any future potential based on some misguided idea that you have to relinquish your feelings for O’cerne altogether before you can move on. Hence, the basis for my argument.” Ash advised with a voice of compassion. 

 

“No. Those are all valid points. Even if they are damning to me and my more goofy characteristics,” Raer admitted with a chuckle. “But I’m a one-partner kind of person.”

“And that’s okay. You don’t have to change that to allow the actuality to be true. Again, I just worry your delineations are far too rigid, setting yourself up for missing out on future potentials,” Ash clarified. 

 

As Raer nodded in acceptance, his curiosity was still gnawing at him as he asked. 

 

“So. Are you still in love with him?” 

 

Raer tilted her head back and forth quickly, as she seemed to be deciding on how to respond. But as a sly grin came to her face, she offered an ambiguous answer. 

 

“I will only say this: I have been told that unrequited love is good for the brain. I’ll leave it at that.” 

 

It was a response that prompted him to laugh heartily, as it was wondrously vague while being clearly evident.

 

“Side quest accepted,” Ash spoke with a chirp. “I will now be taking it upon myself to find your forever love. You deserve romantic bliss. As long as he’s aware that I claimed you first, and that I take precedence, always.”

 

“Oh, Ash. You have no idea what you’re in for with this. And no, I won’t be elaborating. If you want to know more, you can not get an answer from Wayra.” Porter voiced with a sound of teasing pity in his accentuation.

 

It was a comment that brought them all to boisterous laughter. With Porter poking fun at Wayra and the hopelessness it was to procure any information from him. A trait they all knew too well, as well as the exasperation of said practice.

 

 

Chapter 53

Book 1 — Chapter 53

Published Spring 2026

Day: Hynxina

Date: 38

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

City/Town: Melchior

Country: Minu

Miles felt the contradictions rise and fall like a seesaw. Bringing him gladdening highs of gratefulness and, conversely, tumbling lows of rumination. All accentuated by the past week. Though, if he were to be honest, the past month. 

 

The airship ride back to Minu was a pleasant one; both he and Ash recalled their points of view of what had transpired. It was a revelatory occasion for them all, as he hadn’t heard Ash’s perspective on what she had done, thought, and felt during their brief confinement. Nor had she heard his. But with sleep being his main undertaking, he admitted there wasn’t much to tell.

 

Entrance into Melchior was in the first few hours of the new day and a moment of tension as the primary undertone amongst them was quietly catastrophizing internally; something that was evident to each of them and only increased the anxiousness. However, it proved to be a phantom concern, as the airship field was empty of staff or customers — allowing them to slip out of the gates unnoticed, while Porter and Raer returned the hardware to a night drop box. 

 

The walk and use of transit went without incident. And the arrival back to Nokahme was one of sincere happiness, as they were greeted with exuberance and a significant amount of relief. It was in that release that the pressure value had finally expelled, and everyone quickly lost the steam that had been driving them through the events. 

 

As he splashed the water across his face, he rubbed his cheeks with force, attempting to rouse his depleting energy. He wanted to hold out a little longer, as scenarios — and their requirements — were running through his mind, persuading him to seek external voices. 

 

He looked at his reflection in the mirror that hung over the washbasin in the customer water closet. The road burn that he had received from the crash was still highly visible on his face. It struck him as strange that the generic HEAL that had been administered worked to perfection regarding his shoulder, and yet seemed to fail against the bumps, bruises, and cuts that he had suffered. As if the treatment had been engineered pseudo-sentient — and chose to focus its medicine on the most significant aspects of the injury.

Though he didn’t have much in the way of concern that it would look suspicious. His residence in Melchior came with stereotypes that, whether true or false, would render such wounds typical for the population. 

 

He sighed aloud with weariness and left the lavatory, moving down the hallway, thinking ahead to what questions he needed answered. 

 

But as he exited the hallway into the pub proper, his eyes scanned and he felt a drop of disappointment strike his stomach, as the two people he specifically wanted to talk to had left. 

 

“Well, shit! Where did everyone go?” He asked as he took a seat at the bar, wishing he could have at least said goodbye. 

 

“Papa Ero has to be at work in a handful of hours, so he needed to get some rest. Same with Porter; he is supposed to be at work in a couple hours. And Porter offered to drop Raer off, as he didn’t want her walking at night by herself. However, Porter said he would be back this evening for work,” Akiva explained, though her mouth turned upwards into a sly grin as she continued. 

 

“But that menace Porter farted on his way out; told us it was a parting gift for what we put him through.” 

 

“That explains the smell,” he confirmed with a chuckle. “Gross.” 

 

As Akiva found humor in his response, she laughed with energy that was invoking a smile of his own as he enjoyed bringing out laughter from her. Her laughter subsided as she continued. 

 

“When Porter gets tired, he gets goofy and a bit more extroverted. It’s like sleep is an inhibitor that suppresses his facetious side.” 

 

He nodded knowingly, as he felt those silly and impetuous urges were more easily given into when he was a special kind of fatigued. But such was far from him at present. He looked at Wayra, who was standing behind Ash with his arms wrapped firmly around her, and asked. 

 

“So what did I miss while absent?”

 

“Porter was just reflecting on how this was the third time in this past solar year where he had been chased by HEAGEN,” Wayra responded plainly. 

“Tell him your response,” Ash said as she directed her attention to Akiva and encouraged with a chortle.

 

“I simply pointed out that if you haven’t been chased by HEAGEN at least a half dozen times by the time you’re 50, have you even really lived?” Akiva replied with a laugh of her own. 

 

“Too right,” Wayra agreed, but didn’t seem to have the energy to share in the humor.  

 

As Akiva sighed happily, she turned her attention to Ash and asked.

 

“So, Ash, what did you think of O’cerne? Did he fill your ear-holes on how the powers that be have some pathological obsession with people just being an output for labor and economic productivity is dystopian and vulgar. Or did he imbue you with the joy of how once you fall below a certain threshold, you’re deemed useless and the powers that be start trying to remove you instead of helping you. Or his best: how the Civil Security here, also known as HEAGEN, are sub-animals, and they will all get theirs soon. Because if you think that smelly asshole that just left is militant, you really haven’t talked to O’cerne yet. Though, to be fair, he’s not wrong about any of it.” 

 

“Funny enough, he did mention his full disdain for HEAGEN. And some other less-than-pleasant thoughts on what’s happening here in Minu. But I will give you all those details tomorrow. I’m wiped out and need to head upstai …” 

 

However, before Ash could say anything further, Wayra turned Ash gently and directed her down the bar, guiding her towards the foyer and up the stairs without a single word.

 

He looked at Akiva, who just raised her eyebrows and spoke in a teasing tone. 

 

“Ash is a fool if she thinks she’s going to get any sleep, with the way Wayra has been pining for her.” 

 

He couldn’t help but laugh at the implications Akiva had made, but his thoughts didn’t linger on them; Akiva’s coltish smile turned to subtle happiness as she remarked earnestly. 

 

“You did good, Miles.” 

 

It was a moment that pushed the heat to the back of his neck, as well as his hand, as he scratched at it and couldn’t find words to respond; he was rendered sheepish and awkward to praise. However, as his mind wanted to repel the comment and its associated emotions, he brandished a grin and asked in a teasing pitch. 

 

“Do I get a reward?” 

 

“Well, that depends on the reward you may want,” Akiva retorted with a wry smile.

 

As they both laughed at their playful flirting, he felt the somber questions that had been heavy on his mind jump forward again, ending his laughter almost abruptly. 

 

It was something that Akiva quickly noticed, as her face moved to one of questioning. But as she studied his face for a few moments, her eyes looked to the ceiling and took a deep breath that made her shoulders rise and fall. She returned her eyes to his and uttered with a tone of dread. 

 

“Oh, shit. I know that look. You have something sincere on your mind. Come on. Out with it.” 

 

“Yeah, no,” he responded. “I’m disinclined to be bare-bones with you when you’re already rolling your eyes. You’re not up for a serious conversation.”

 

Akiva looked around briefly as she again took a visible breath before speaking.

 

“I can see how you would interpret my body language as such. Fair. But if I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked, because I think I’m emotionally available enough for a serious conversation. So, go … what’s on your mind?”

 

“Have you ever taken a life?” he asked in a shallow inflection, as the question seemed to hold weight and made it difficult to ask. 

 

He watched as Akiva pursed her lips and looked at the bar counter in front of her — as if she wished not to make eye contact as she replied.

 

“Of course I have. And I don’t say that with any measure of pride. It was what it was; and I’m sure it will be again.”

 

It was a response that didn’t shock him. It was something, considering the environment she was immersed in, felt like a given. This was merely a confirmation of what he intrinsically knew. Nor was it an answer that altered his opinion of her. But he needed more information. He needed deeper insight to color his own thoughts on such deeds. 

 

“Please, go on,” he urged with a voice that hinted of a plea.

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Akiva burst out with frustration in her voice. “I’m not going to engage in any shit diatribe about the nature of evil and all that rot. We were born with rights, freedoms, and the intelligence to understand those. Those who infringe upon those rights are evil. And while the punishment should be reflective of the crime, taking a life has been required. It was justified, as they were evil people, and I was stopping their infringement on others.”

He held up his hands in a calming gesture and tried to reflect his sentiments in his pitch as he clarified.

 

“I don’t have anything I want you to say. I just want perspective. Like … what is the Watzeens’ perception of it? Socially? What’s your personal perception? How do you reconcile doing things like taking a life?”

 

“If you’re asking if Watzeens engage in some kind of moral subjectivity, for the most part, no,” Akiva established as her tone calmed. “Listen. Watzeens, myself included, believe that when you take that first breath upon being born, you’re granted, by default, some inalienable rights. That first breath is seen as a sort of contract of life; a contract you have with yourself and everyone around you. Both in what rights you are given, but too, in what responsibilities you have to honor others’ rights. And some could argue the extent to what those rights are, one is certain, and that is life. It’s …”

 

She paused as she shifted in her seat. 

 

“I’m trying to figure out how to say this as plainly as possible. We understand that there is something fundamental within us. A driving force that some have dubbed a moral compass. This compass knows. It knows what’s right and what’s wrong. It’s independent of all the background noise of culture, perspective, pop-ethics, and provocative-ism; knowing that those who lack morals are those who claim morality is relative. And we are aware that some mental illnesses can impede that compass. I’m sure you’ve seen the studies. Anyone who has a basic education has been shown the pictures of contrasting brain scans that reveal the difference between a healthy brain and an ailing brain when presented with a clear moral choice. Yeah. That’s a whole other bag.” 

 

He nodded as he could agree with such a perspective. But his question wasn’t wholly answered, as he further prodded. 

 

“I follow and agree, but how does that apply to you taking a life?”  

 

“I’m getting to that part!” Akiva responded with a raise in her voice that implied anger. 

 

It was an irritation that put him on the defensive as he asked with his own rising frustration.

 

“Why are you so put-out?” 

 

“Because I don’t like talking about feelings and shit,” Akiva returned, with a temper in her inflection. 

 

It was a response that twisted his body from the seat; his own agitation rose as he made his thoughts and mood clear.

 

“Shit! Be a hard-ass. Sorry I asked.” 

 

“No! No,” Akiva spoke in a cadence that rose and fell as she reached out for his arm and grabbed it, pulling him back to her as she continued in a measured voice. “To be fair, you asked if I was up for a serious conversation, and I said yes. So this is on me. I should have known this wasn’t going to be superficial. That it would challenge me a bit. Again, that’s on me, and not only do I need to remind myself what I agreed to … but I need to remind myself why most likely you’re asking.” 

 

He felt another burn come to his skin, only this time it was to his cheeks as her astute observation was further ahead than his own thoughts had allowed. He nodded and slid back onto the stool and gave her the time and silence she needed to gather her thoughts.

 

“Okay. Let me preface this by saying the following two personal points. Point one: If someone is intentionally imposing their will, infringing on my rights, especially threatening me or mine, this aggressor has abrogated the mutual contract. And I, especially when they threaten those I care for, am under obligation to protect them from the aggressor by rescinding my side of the contract and doing what must be done to secure all our safety. Point two: I like the moral compass analogy. Because one thing it illustrates is that the needle can move, can shift ever so slightly, to accommodate the shifts in the magnetic pull. Those being said, for any life I have taken, no matter how much they sucked ass, it has shaken my compass. That gut punch is real and acute. That whole-body burn isn’t just adrenaline. It’s knowing that what you did is, at its core, against the central truth of our beings. However, I feel it’s more of an offense to let those around me die than it is to stop those who would take those lives. If I can stop evil, I should. Not doing otherwise would be a dereliction of my contractual duty to preserve life and goodness.”

 

Akiva’s mouth pursed again as she raised her finger to a point, indicating to not impede her thoughts with any comments or questions, as she was needing silence to decide on how to proceed. After a couple minutes, she nodded her head in decisiveness and returned her hand to the bar counter and continued. 

 

“I want to follow up my point of view with a broader concept. While I’m not one eager to give Sanctuary credit, this came from Raer, so I’ll lend the recognition more towards her and her mentor. Gonna paraphrase here, but the short of the long: she pointed out even mortal laws, made by flawed people, recognize intent. Of course, this aligns with what I said: your intent. But she took this a little further with a rough guideline for the mentally sound. Be it quote-unquote petty crimes of breaking into a HEAGEN station — to the much more morally serious — the litmus test that defines is reflection and remorse. If any questionable act prompts you to experience the spectrum of empirical, a priori, or theoretical introspection and compunction, your intentions are sound. However, if the act doesn’t kindle these — that you’re confident beyond contemplation and self-scrutiny of your deeds — you’re not acting in good faith. You are the criminal.”

He searched his mind as it was swirling in a daze. He felt the appreciation toward Akiva being so open with him, but he was also struck by her genuinely wise words to his own concerns that he still hadn’t been able to articulate. He shook his head and spoke without even realizing he was asking aloud the question of his racing thoughts.

 

“I know you don’t enjoy talking about your feelings candidly. But … I … How do people do it?” 

 

“Being the first to break the contract and being evil?” Akiva asked, not requiring a response. “Aside from mental illness, I don’t know. Some believe the violators have no souls; which, given the more I see of the world, might be more accurate than not. Some think it’s not that they are soulless, it’s just that their souls are twisted. Compromised by whatever darkness resides in the Universe. But I don’t know. It’s simply a truth we have to deal with. One that puts the responsibility on our shoulders. And that alone is worthy of at least a beating … ‘cause pulling that shit is inherently an ass move.”

 

He found the laugh scattered his thoughts as Akiva’s verbiage and delivery was, as usual, one of excellent humored timing. A moment of reprieve from the weightsome topic that, as the last consideration left his present mind, alluded to an onerous destination.

• • •

Miles sat up directly from the couch in the commons room, placed his tablet on the snack and beverage table, and prepared himself as he heard the running of little feet down the hall as fast as they could carry. 

 

“Miles! Miles!” Naira yelled with joy as she ran into the room and jumped into his arms. 

 

He couldn’t help but laugh at the exuberance Naira was expressing. It was accompanied by no small amount of surprise, as the hug she had wrapped around his neck was one of ardent strength, implying she was heartened by seeing him. He accepted the embrace and returned it as he asked. 

 

“Did you miss me or something?” 

 

Naira pulled from him as her eyes were large, with raised eyebrows of sincerity, as she nodded emphatically as she spoke. 

 

“I missed you a lot. I couldn’t wait to tell you about school and stuff. Plus, to tell you I’m proud of you. I know you did really good for Ash.” 

 

“Proud of me?” he asked with a chuckle. “Did someone tell you what happened?” 

 

As Naira climbed onto his lap, she adjusted herself until she was comfortable, then shook her head with continued energy and explained.

“No. I didn’t see it all. But I saw you wouldn’t let Ash get hurt. And I was right.” 

 

He could only offer a smile, as he didn’t know how to respond to her comments. It didn’t perceive in his mind as if he did anything out of the ordinary. It was instinct to try his best to keep Ash from as much harm as possible. But he, too, didn’t want to refute Naira’s praise and dissuade her own natural responses, as they were healthy and caring.

 

Thankfully, it wasn’t a silence that lingered, as Naira moved her hand to his face and ran her tiny fingers across the road burn and asked in a concerned voice.

 

“It looks like it hurts very bad. Do you want me to call Ta’ Chima for you?” 

 

Before he could respond, Akiva’s voice came from the door as she entered with a wide grin. 

 

“You know, Naira. You could at least once in a while let the grownups pretend we’re competent and let us nurse the sick. I mean, we’re not, but yeah …” 

 

It was a request that caused Naira to giggle profusely, and she nodded in agreement. 

 

Wayra, who was close behind Akiva into the room, offered a light smile and spoke in a clear tone.

 

“Naira. I’d like to talk to Miles. Akiva said she would make you your morning meal, so I want you to go downstairs with her.” 

 

“Fine,” Naira uttered in a disappointed voice. Though, as she seemed to consider something, she bounced in her seat and asked in an excited cadence. “When you’re done talking, will you come and eat with me?” 

 

“It would be to my great delight to do that very thing,” he responded in a happy pitch, trying to match her pep. 

 

It was an answer that pleased Naira excessively, as she again bounced in her seat and threw her arms around his neck, embracing him with enthusiasm. Yet, she wasn’t finished expressing herself, as she quickly kissed him on the cheek before scurrying off his lap and out the door, following Akiva. 

 

The action surprised him in a host of ways as he was feeling a mix of shock, happiness, and even a tinge of discomfort. His eyes turned to Warya, who was settling in on the settee, and noticed his appearance and whose own expression moved to one of questioning.

 

“You look a bit bewildered. I’m also reading uneasiness. What am I missing?”

 

“I …” he stuttered as he tried to explain what was going through his head. “My worry is … I didn’t want to appear inappropriate. I …” 

 

“Absolutely not!” Wayra retorted in an adamant tone. “I will give you all the credit that you’re concerned that Naira’s sentiment, the kiss on the cheek, may make some people fairly alarmed because it’s unfortunately not an unjustifiable concern. But allow me to grant some reassurance. First; while I’m sure most would say I shouldn’t lean on my graces in who I surround myself with, I think your actions have proven my graces were spot on with you. Including this moment here. I have no fears with Naira around you. Second; I don’t think you appreciate how much Naira is attached to Ash. You kept Ash from significant harm; it made you a hero. Naira will be doting on you for the foreseeable future.” 

 

He nodded and smiled, feeling relief that his anxiety wasn’t warranted. Though he still felt the need to explain himself as he released a vocal breath and conveyed his additional thoughts. 

 

“Thank you. As you may have gleaned, I didn’t have a normal childhood. It wasn’t even based on anything like cultural norms … it was just … difficult.” 

 

“Well, you’ll be happy to know you haven’t diverged from any Attata norms,” Wayra offered with a chuckle before his voice returned to a somber tone. “But I’m sympathetic-sorry for your childhood. From what I have graced, I can see why your mind went to many places that influenced your ideas. Again, as misguided as they are.” 

 

He produced a light smile in thanks for Wayra’s assurances. However, as silence began to settle in, Wayra sat up straight, taking a visibly deep breath, and released his words with volume and vigor. 

 

“Naira isn’t the only one ascribing hero status to you. With earnestness, I wanted to thank you for your selfless and fast-thinking actions. And for your first outing, you did far beyond what I saw. You should be proud of yourself. We are.”

 

“You’ve been so damn good to me, I can’t imagine being indifferent to either of you. Your pains and struggles. I not only wanted to see Ash safe, but I wanted you at ease,” he explained. 

 

“Well, as I’m being rude as shit and currently reading you, I know obligation wasn’t the driving factor of your choices. Yes, it was an element, but the primary influence is that you’re an excellent man, Miles. Too, you’re being unnecessarily humble,” Wayra stated plainly. 

 

It was an accusation that he knew was one he couldn’t wholly deny. But instead of arguing any of Wayra’s assertions, he chose the moment to inquire about something that had been on his mind. 

 

“Speaking of reading me, this is a good segue to something I wanted to ask you. When we were at the HEAGEN station. When I left the evidence room, because I couldn’t find a place to hide, I was concentrating on trying to communicate with you via graces, hoping you would hear my plan. But I don’t even know if that’s how graces work.”

“No,” Wayra hesitated as he seemed to be considering the question while his eyes searched the ceiling and his head shifted from side to side. “Well, the ‘no’ isn’t accurate either. So, yes. Graces can work like that. However, there’s too much to explain the subtleties right now. But no, I didn’t hear you. I was too busy trying to read the HEAGEN. I just trusted you. That trust was justified. And … I don’t want to sound like an echo, but I can’t thank you enough. Ash means the world to me. Had something terrible happened, I don’t know how I would have moved forward …” 

 

As Wayra paused, he seemed to consider something for a moment that brought him humor, as he laughed and shared his mind.

 

“Though I suppose I wouldn’t have to worry about how I would deal, as I’m confident Naira would have killed me via Akiva. And truth be told, Akiva would happily oblige.” 

 

It was a consideration that he could see being true as he joined Wayra’s laugh. Even without being Attata, he could see that Naira had adopted Ash as her mother. In his opinion, loving Ash more than what he could imagine a biological mother could have evoked. Because of that, he too could understand how devastated Naira would be if something happened to Ash. And while Akiva would never admit such, Naira did have Akiva wrapped around her finger — especially when it came to circumstances that involved Wayra. He assumed Akiva’s eagerness to exercise orneriness towards Wayra was just part of Wayra’s and Akiva’s best friend dynamic. 

 

As their laughs subsided, Wayra shook his head with a happy sigh and asked. 

 

“Aside from the praise, I wanted to reissue the dinner invite to Ash’s parents’ house tonight. Ash said she asked, and you declined, saying you were going to mind the pub. If that’s your only reasoning, I think Akiva and Porter can manage if you want to reconsider.” 

 

“I’m good, honestly,” he assured Wayra. “I know it might sound weird, but I just want to be a homebody for a couple days. This has become my home. I’m growing to love this building. My room. My bed. After the days I was gone, I truly missed it. Just want to refuel before I venture back out.”

 

Wayra smiled with a hint of pride in his visage as he spoke.

 

“I’m happy to hear that. Sincerely. I know my cadence is flat and doesn’t always illustrate my genuine emotions. But on register, hearing you say that gets the — as Naira would call them — warm and fuzzies poppin’. It’s not much, but I love this place. One of the reasons I named it Nokahme. Glad you’ve developed such a regard for it.”

“Actually,” he adjusted himself in his seat as he reached for his tablet. “Do you have a minute? I wanted to ask you a couple questions.” 

 

He held out the tablet, offering it to Wayra, who took it and confirmed with a chuckle. 

 

“I have plenty. However, it’s you who are short on time, as Akiva and Naira are making you a proper morning meal. But … oh! You’re wanting to learn Attata.” 

 

He chortled as Wayra made a good point; his time was limited, given the promise he had made to Naira. But he was determined to get some insights as he disclosed his objectives.

 

“Raer sang a prayer in Attata when we were down in Tishomin. The words were so pleasing to the ear, so lyrical, it got me interested in the language.”

 

“I would be honored to help you in any way I can,” Wayra affirmed with a pitch of keenness. ”What is your first question?”

 

“Start with the writing system. If I’m understanding this, the grapheme is what you see in the Agglomerate language. Attata uses a syllabary writing system. But the book was really unclear on the basis.” 

 

“Most resources like this don’t get into the history proper,” Wayra noted as he handed him back the tablet and reached for his wallet as he explained. “You’re correct; it’s a syllabary writing system. I have a business card written in Attata, let me find it so I can illustrate what I’m explaining.” 

 

As he found the card, he handed it over to him, allowing him to examine the symbols as he continued. 

 

“From what I recall of far history, before the advent of disposable writing materials, imprints were the way on which people wrote. This is what inspired the system. Instead of having a glyph for each individual sound, like Agglomerate does, Attata developed using mostly consent-vowel combinations that were assigned a symbol. Now, originally Attata had 57 consent-vowel combinations that would make up words. That doesn’t mean a writer would carry with them 57 different stamps for imprinting, as it wouldn’t only be cumbersome and ridiculous; it was also seen as delimiting for a general populous that might not have the time and resources to commit to making so many stamps and their carrying needs. To simplify matters, Attata symbols are composed of a combination of strokes that are derived from 18 basic lines or shapes. It allowed almost everyone access to writing and reading. And for the inevitable expansion of the language. Because 18 to the power of combinations, you can do the math.” 

 

“Okay, looking at this card, I can see that not every symbol is made of all 18 lines. This makes so much sense,” he observed as he pointed to a particular four-symbol word on the card and asked. “I trust by its emphasis, this word says ‘Nokahme.’”

 

“You trust right,” Wayra confirmed with a bright smile. “The first symbol is for the sound ‘nok;’ the second symbol represents the ‘ah’ sound. Third symbol, the ‘mm’ sound, and the fourth symbol is the ‘ay’ sound. I, too, want to point out that when you’re learning the syllabograms, some of the symbols will reflect, by sight, the sound they make. A great example of that is in the word Nokahme. If you look at the symbol that represents the ‘ah’ sound I just mentioned, you see the line with the two arches on either side. If you view it in an iconographic manner, you can kind of see the intention. The line is the person and the concave arches are the breathing out motion of the diaphragm from the body. As you exhale a contented sigh of ‘ah,’ your diaphragm contracts in.” 

 

His free hand immediately moved to his stomach as he pulled in a deep breath that expanded his diaphragm. As he breathed out and pressed in, the sound almost seemed to come out without any purposeful intention on his part. He felt his eyes widen with the excitement of understanding as his words erupted with zeal.

 

“Dear Deo! That is so cool! Holy shit, I’m getting pumped learning about this. The originators of the writing system were crazy intelligent and forward thinking. Knowing this can really help a person pick it up.” 

 

“Well,” Wayra spoke with a pitch of caution that gave way to a hearty chuckle. “As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I will warn you: some of the symbols, especially the newer ones, aren’t as clear. Abstract would be a charitable way to put it. And by the way, keep that card.” 

 

It was something he could imagine. While 18 basic shapes could make a seemingly never-ending range of symbols, the ability to be as clear as the ‘ah’ symbol would pose an arduous task. Though the point did raise a question in him as he asked. 

 

“Thank you. So, you said there were 57 original symbols. How many are there now?”

 

“Like 109,” Wayra answered with a slight wince in his pitch. But his voice returned to a factual tone as he urged. “That is why I think while it’s excellent you want to dive full-in, I cannot recommend enough to first focus on the speaking part.” 

 

He nodded and mentally made a note of where to focus his studies, as he was certainly going to take a native speaker’s advice to heart. But his surprise at the nearly doubling of the language was foremost in his mind as he enquired with intrigue.

 

“Yeah, no, for sure, my mind is blown by how much it’s changed. I fully grasp that languages evolve and such. But 57 combinations sounds like it could have taken care of most input over the ages. How and why did it grow so much? I just … I gotta know it all.”

 

Wayra burst into laughter as he shook his head and asked in a satirical intonation.

“Again, it doesn’t surprise me; your thirst for knowledge. But what? Do you want me to do a deep dive into matters such as the weakening of unstressed vowels for some subsects of Jeahne Attata? Or the loss of grammatical gender. Or the establishment of the definite article before a noun. Or, my absolute favorite, which is ever-confusing for native speakers: the introduction of plural endings when our default reference is always in the plural.”

 

“No, you’re perfectly right,” he admitted with a sigh of dismay. “If it were up to me, we’d get into nasals and fricatives and palatalization, and I’ll be holding you as an academic hostage for a month at least.” 

 

Wayra laughed as he nodded in agreement. But as the laugh subsided and his face fell to one of understanding, he spoke in an easy voice. 

 

“Yet again, I appreciate, even admire, your desire to be so informed. Let me satiate that appetite for knowledge with a couple bits of information that I consider a good starting point. Keep in mind, some of what I’m describing has only taken place in the last couple hundred solar years; it’s technically new to us, too.” 

 

Wayra adjusted himself in his seat, as he appeared to be settling in deeper for an extended explanation. 

 

“This may seem counterintuitive, based on the growth of symbols, but the language has moved to a more simplified version. For instance, it didn’t use to have suffixes. Therefore, it didn’t translate suffixes for other languages. Further, Attata doesn’t do loan words, so it becomes word-for-word translation based on sounds. An example of this: the moon of Ka’ayeok, whose original name was lost to the Bottleneck, was derived from the Agglomerate word water, almost directly after the Bottleneck. However, since the language has evolved and we now recognize suffixes from direct translations, the word has changed. The word for water went from ka’ayeok to ka’ayer. Additionally, and this is a very important detail, the Attata language didn’t have certain sounds that were brought with some of the other peoples. /B/, /d/, /p/, /r/, and /s/ were essential to adopt in order to accommodate our learning and understanding. Though not everything was utilized. Still don’t have a /v/ sound equivalent. We sort of replace it with an unvoiced ‘ch’ sound.” 

 

“This is fascinating,” he marveled, as he had so many questions. But an observation came forward that he was compelled to share as he spoke. “I have to admit, while I know Agglomerate is roughly based on a composite of Hume languages, I’m taken aback by how accommodating Attata has been. It honestly makes me a little uncomfortable as it feels Hume-centric.” 

 

Wayra laughed as he shook his head and offered his perspective.

“That’s not an unwarranted consideration, as yes, Attatas, and even Watzeens, have adjusted to the Humes to the point of having aspects that are Hume-centric. However, if it makes you feel any better, in Attata and Watzeen circles, we don’t feel you’re imposing on us and forcing our hand. We see it as we’re doing you the kindness as … well … you’re Hume. You’re kinda dumb.”

 

As he burst into laughter, Wayra threw up his hands in defense as he continued. 

 

“Now, I’m not saying you’re stupid. Because there is a distinction between being dumb and being stupid. And as a general people, Humes are just … oh, what’s that idiom I heard from a Hume once … ah yes! Humes are chaotic neutral.”

 

He breathed through his continued laughter as he shook his head and responded. 

 

“No. I can see where you’re getting at. A good portion of us Humes haven’t had the best history of eluding those charges. We’ve had moments of living up to the archetype. Though I’m going to be a little more severe on my people. Some of us are astonishingly stupid. To the point that while it’s said the Couriers vetted Humes when they took them, I wonder if they vetted them enough because, Deo dammit.”

 

“And it's your right to speak of your people how you choose,” Wayra noted with a chuckle. “But if I may say, with only sincere observation, a Hume like you was exactly who the Couriers intended on preserving and why.” 

 

His eyes blinked as his head shook with disbelief; he couldn’t think of a kinder or more generous accolade. It was one that surpassed his normal reaction to praise and simply left him dumfounded. 

 

However, before he could say anything in response. Wayra quickly returned to the subject of language as he continued.

 

“It’s funny in a way, the evolution of the Attata language. The months, for example, as so far removed as the language went through a shift pre-Bottleneck, their meanings aren’t wholly clear to modern-day Attata. Though the meanings are not all lost. Some were so simple they didn’t change. The month of Leetarium translates to the month of the seed. Leet means seed in Agglomerate.”

 

“Linguistic drift is so damn cool,” he noted with vocal appreciation. 

 

“It can be,” Wayra acknowledged. “Though it has its disadvantages. Any remaining pre-Bottleneck text is difficult to read and contextualize. It concerns me for day-to-day reasons. But that’s a subtopic for another time. With Attata …”

 

Suddenly Wayra was cut off by the voice of Akiva yelling up the steps with all her vocal might. 

“You have five minutes to get your asses down here, lest you hurt Naira’s feelings and, by extension, piss me off to the ends of feeling my wrath!”

 

He looked at Wayra, who smiled brightly and stood as he spoke. 

 

“One last question, for now.” 

 

His mind scurried through all the questions that had been raised, looking for one that would benefit him best in his initial studies. One came as he asked it in the urgency Akiva had imposed on them as he bounced to a stand.  

 

“Okay. Yeah. You mentioned Attata doesn’t have plural endings?” 

 

“In Attata, when you reference a plural, you would say the word once, while the singular is said twice. The word chair in Attata is whoa’eaok. If we’re referencing multiple chairs, as in the plural, it’s whoa’eaok. If we’re referencing one chair, as in the singular, it becomes whoa’eaok-whoa’eaok. It’s done as it’s not just any chair, it’s that specific chair. Does that make sense?” 

 

“That does,” he affirmed as he followed Wayra out the door into the hall. Though a secondary question came to mind as he continued. “So if it’s twice for the singular, why isn’t Nokahme, Nokahme-Nokahme?” 

 

Wayra nodded with a smile, as the question seemed to be an obvious one for a learner. 

 

“The plural is always the standard in Attata. But in the case of Nokahme, which as you know means home; while it is only one home, the plural is understood because it belongs to more than one, or how many people live in it and call it home. Like a country, or city, or island, those will be referenced in the plural as even though it’s only one, it has many that belong to it.”

 

He felt the logic and sense move into his mind; he couldn’t help but smile with excitement as learning was truly one of his devoted passions. And with it, he hoped, an always impetus to improving himself and engaging with life in every positive manner he could.

Chapter 54

Book 1 — Chapter 54

Published Spring 2026

Day: Hynxina

Date: 38

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

City/Town: Melchior

Country: Minu


“Is it okay to park here?” Wayra asked as he hesitated to power down Miles’ STV. 

 

“It’s public parking. Unless your graces are telling you otherwise,” Ash responded, as she took Naira from between her and Wayra, lifted her off the STV, and placed her on the ground.  

 

“No. Only wanted to make certain this wasn’t exclusively for the residents of the neighborhood,” Wayra clarified as he powered down. 

 

Ash threw her leg over the seat and spun on her backside to sit perpendicular as she scanned the sights and sounds of her old neighborhood.

 

It was a sector, situated in the hills area of Melchior, that was considered the “residential” zone. One that catered to predominantly ‘single family homes.’ Though many, to her knowledge, were inhabited by multi-generational families; it was Melchior, and such financial constraints often demanded such. 

 

However, given the overall decline of the city, the homes in this area were nice. In her opinion. Granted, she was highly biased; but she actually liked the neighborhood and its abodes. 

 

The street itself was convenient. The road, made of the typical packed dirt, was of the divided variety — directing the single flow of traffic on either side — and featured a flushed median that allowed for parking. Which was a benefit; while all the homes had alley access, those alleys were narrow and left little for vehicle stowage.

Along the road stood closely placed homes that pressed directly against a broad sidewalk. They were roughly identical in their single-story and layouts. All featured, at the front, a wall façade that covered the entire width and height of the house. The wall offered an entry gate, often made of wrought iron, that provided access to the central courtyard of the home. It was this courtyard that gave the only private outdoor space — though many took advantage of the generous sidewalk and would sit in front of their gates on warm evenings and socialize. The habitation proper was wrapped around the courtyard on three sides, creating distinct spaces for communal living, food preparation, and sleeping. And while all the dwellings were alike, they were not undifferentiated, as each owner took care to use various materials and colors to express themselves and distinguish their domicile. It made the neighborhood a delight for anyone who enjoyed colors and textures. 

 

Though her bias returned; she thought the cream and beige rocks of her parents’ house were, by far, the most handsome on the street. 

 

She felt a smile come to her as she watched three children run and yell to one another about what they were going to buy at the local corner store. A staple in each neighborhood — and one of her favorite haunts when she lived there. 

 

Her attention was drawn away; Naira spoke her name with urgency as she pleaded with a bounce.

 

“Ash, can I go? I want to ring the bell.”

 

“You can go. But watch for traffic,” she warned, allowing Naira to look quickly and — just as quickly — chassé across the road to her parents’ front gate. 

 

Another, even brighter smile came to her as she watched Naira dance with excitement that only increased with its twists and turns as she rang the bell to the house and was promptly met by her father, who swooped Naira up into his arms for a hug and a kiss.

 

“They really have taken to Naira as if she were truly their own grandchild,” Wayra commented, garnering her attention away from Naira and her father. 

 

She looked at Wayra, who offered his hand. One she accepted as she took his hand into hers, slid off the seat of the STV, and began to walk across the road as she responded to his observation. 

 

“I will say my parents have always been eager to give affection. I never went without in that department. But in this specific case, I suppose my parents have never seen me look at someone the way I look at you. Never seen me so attached to a child as I am. They know. This is for the rest of our lives.” 

“Don’t get my hopes up,” Wayra teased with a chuckle. 

 

It was a jest that she just had the opportunity to dismiss with a laugh and a playful smack to Wayra’s arm as she moved directly to greet her parents — who were standing at the gate, waiting. 

 

“Mama! Papa!” she squealed, as she was genuinely overjoyed to see them, given what she had come home from that very early morning. 

 

She felt a particular warmth that could only come from embracing a parent, as her mother held her for an extended moment and spoke. 

 

“I was so worried, my precious girl. And so very proud of you.” 

 

As her mother released the hold, she gently guided her to her father — who, upon finishing his own hug with Wayra, moved towards her and brought her into a squeeze that was welcome and seemed to illustrate non-verbally, the concerns that had weighed on him. 

 

As she pulled away, her father didn’t give her an opportunity to speak, as he encouraged everyone with happy vigor.

 

“Get in, get in. Need to shut this gate, and you’re clogging up the entrance.”

 

She laughed at her father’s comment as she looked around the courtyard and felt the bliss of nostalgia.  

 

The courtyard was a relatively generous one, at 28 square meters. Though, given that the interior of the house was only another 55 square meters, the courtyard became essential living space. Because of that, her parents had taken great care in designing the area for usage in dining, living, and supplemental gardening. Every millimeter utilized to the best of ability and scant resources.

 

To her, it was beautiful. A mismatch of blue- and green-toned tiles, all collected from outlet and private sales, set the stage for the color palette for the entire space.

 

A small table and chairs, set in white with blue cushions, hosted many a happy meal. A pair of deep-seated, high-back chairs, also in white, this time with green cushions into which she spent many days sunk into as she studied. Other small pieces of furniture that were all welcoming. And a host of potted plants, painted in matching colors to the tile, that housed a portion of the fruits and vegetables that supported their diets. 

It was a home that, while not extravagant, was cozy and warm. Something that, even when she was introduced to far more luxurious accommodations while she was off at school, didn’t hold her pleasure like this house did. 

 

But her admiration at the surrounding sight was interrupted by her mother, who asked with a tone of disappointment. 

 

“Wait. Is no one else coming? You could have at least brought Miles with you. We wanted to thank him personally. No Porter? No Raer? My! Not even our darling, Akiva?” 

 

She took a seat at the dining table, shook her head, and offered an apologetic expression as she detailed the situation. 

 

“Both Wayra and I asked Miles, but he was feeling hermit mode. Just wanting to be a homebody and get a little more rest in. Poor Porter had to pick up a shift to cover the day off yesterday. He’s going to be in another department that I understand is even more physically demanding; so it’s going to be a long day for him. Raer couldn’t either, as she had some traveling to do. As for Akiva. I suspect she knew we would bring food back with us. So if she stayed at the pub, she could eat there with the promise of more food to come.” 

 

Both her mother and father laughed at her elaboration towards Akiva’s absence. One that prompted her father to comment. 

 

“Smart woman. She comes here, she only eats once. She stays there, she gets to eat twice. Shame the others couldn’t come. We made enough for everyone, so we’ll be sending a lot home with you. Now let me get the first dishes while you reveal to me why my darling gran-baby is all yawns.” 

 

She chuckled as she glanced over to Naira, who was sitting on her mother’s lap — her head to her chest, and her tiny mouth opening wide for yet another yawn. 

 

But her eyes turned to Wayra, who was standing and stretching. He raised his voice, thus allowing her father, who had moved through the open doors into the interior kitchen, the requested explanation.

 

“Your stinker of a gran-baby, who has decided my words are meaningless, was up till past zero-hundred hours waiting for Ash. They didn’t get in until a couple hours later. So Naira, even though she slept in, has been tired all day.” 

 

She looked at Naira, who flashed an ornery smile but hid her face; she apparently didn’t want to get fussed at for not heeding Wayra’s directives. 

 

It was an action that was extremely cute and prompted both her and her mother to laugh by reflex. But the laughs didn’t sustain; her father emerged from the interior kitchen, with food trays in hand, and mocked gasped as he teased. 

 

“I don’t believe it. Slander! Slander, I say, against my gran-baby. She would always listen to her big brother. I … “ 

 

But before any further jocular comments could be made, the buzzer to the front gate sounded, alerting them that someone was there. It was a pause that, for reasons unbeknownst to her, made both her father and mother lose their pleasant expressions and turn to ones of bother.

 

She quickly moved her eyes between her parents as they looked at each other. Her mother nodded gently to her father, who turned to her and spoke firmly. 

 

“Now you show Naira how it’s done. How to listen to someone. Please stay here while I deal with this.” 

 

“I’ll go with you,” Wayra stated in a serious voice that immediately raised her own concerns. 

 

As both her father and Wayra moved to the doorway, she leaned forward in her chair, attempting to see the gate and who was at it. However, from the position of the table and chairs, it didn’t allow such a vantage point. 

 

She felt frustration move through her and touch her brow; she wanted to comply with her father’s wishes, but she knew something was wrong. 

 

It was a frustration that could easily be read by her mother, who spoke in a comforting cadence. 

 

“It’s okay, Ash. It’s not worth troubling yourself over.” 

 

“What’s going on?” she asked firmly. 

 

“Just let it be. I can’t lie in front of Naira. She will know and it will hurt her feelings … being dishonest with you,” her mother said as again requested. “Just let it be.”  

 

“Mama. What is going on?” she pressed, her voice beginning to express anger and concern. 

 

It was a tone that her mother recognized, as she sighed heavily and began to rock Naira in her seat — as if she were trying to calm her as well. As another vocal sigh came forth, she explained. 

 

“We didn’t want to tell you, but HEAGEN’s been around several times the past couple weeks, looking for you. They say they have a certified letter to present you with, but we hadn’t seen the letter and didn’t trust them. They …” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she interrupted as she jumped from her chair and quickly made her way to the gate. 

 

As she approached where her father and Wayra were standing, she noticed her father pressing a button that was on the inside wall. A recent addition to the home, placed in after she had entered university. A buzzer that would alert neighbors and the convenience store of HEAGEN’s presence in the neighborhood. Warning people to stay in. Close their doors. Or if they could, gather at their respective gates and watch interactions — to make sure there were witnesses if anything happened. It was both a symbol of the solidarity of the community and an omen of how pronounced the abuse by HEAGEN had become for all. 

 

“Can I help you?” she enquired in the most neutral voice she could bring forth — attempting not to imply anger or animosity. 

 

She looked at Wayra, who parted slightly as he gave her access to the gate, but still kept distance between her and the two HEAGENs’ reach.

 

The female HEAGEN, who was accompanied by a male HEAGEN, asked in an aggressive intonation. 

 

“You had better be of help. Are you B. Ashima Ero?” 

 

“I am,” she nodded and lightly smiled, continuing her attempt to keep tensions down.

 

“These two said you weren’t here,” the male HEAGEN commented in a low tone. 

 

“They were right. I wasn’t,” she returned with a chirp to her voice as she gestured over her shoulder. “Just came in through the back.” 

 

She watched as the male HEAGEN squinted a little at her remarks — as if he were angry they were sensical, and therefore denied him the opportunity to accuse her father and Wayra of deceit. 

 

“Hmph,” the female HEAGEN voiced; she seemed even less impressed with the explanation, as she pulled from her jacket an envelope that looked tattered and worn. “You have an official letter to be served. Step out of the grounds.” 

 

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she noted, keeping her voice light and relaxed. “There’s plenty of room between the bars. Can just slide it in. Less work for you so you can complete your task and enjoy your evening.” 

 

“No,” the female HEAGEN stated in fixed indignation. “We order you to step out here to get your papers, or we’ll arrest you for resisting.” 

 

“That’s not a lawful order,” Wayra interjected. “When delivering certified papers, you solely need the verbal confirmation of the person. That’s why mail offices are all behind glass that have pass-through drawers alone. You …” 

 

“Shut your mouth!” the female HEAGEN ordered. “Get out here now or I will arrest you for resisting.” 

 

“Resisting what?” she retorted with a raise of her voice, as the pretense of her mild temper was giving way to her true vexation. “I’m not resisting anything. He’s right. You have your verbal confirmation of who I am. If in any degree, you’re the ones breaking the law by defying an order to deliver my property.” 

 

She watched as the female HEAGEN’s lips curled at the top in what looked like a silent snarl. But as her attention turned to her male counterpart, the female HEAGEN reached into her pocket and pulled a scrip from it; she commented with a threat meant to torment. 

 

“I feel like playing a game of chance. If it lands on tops, we’ll kick down the gate and beat the shit out of each of them. If it lands on bottoms, we’ll re-do the flip.” 

 

As the female HEAGEN tossed the scrip into the air, the male HEAGEN quickly caught it and advised with displeasure. 

 

“We have an audience.” 

 

Her attention, which had been focused on the HEAGENs, hadn’t noticed not only the various people who were at their gates watching what was unfolding, but a large group of young teens — on old Hume tech, tire-to-road bikes — who were masked, questionably weaponed, and riding in circles on the road across the median. It was a sight that, had she been detached from the current situation, would have alarmed her. 

 

“Here. Take it,” the female HEAGEN spoke with disdain as she slid the letter through the bars of the gate, letting it fall to the ground. 

 

She quickly squatted down and retrieved the letter, noticing instantly that its crumpled state was mostly due to the fact that it had been opened and obviously read.

 

“You opened my mail!” she accused, with natural umbrage in her inflection. 

 

“What of it?” the male HEAGEN taunted. “You can’t prove anything. Waste of money to support worthless filth like you.”

She brought into herself a calming breath; the HEAGENs returned to their STV, spurring the group of teens to scatter in smaller groups, and the people at their gates to watch until the HEAGENs had sped down the street, allowing them to go back to their lives. 

 

She released the breath vocally as she looked at her father and asked.

 

“Will those kids be okay? They made an impression on those HEAGENs, and I don’t want to see them get hurt.” 

 

“They’ll be okay,” he assured with a smile. “Good of you to worry about them. Their little gang has been around for a quarturn or so. They see themselves as active resistance to HEAGEN. Came about as someone on this side of town introduced them to the old Hume bikes, as they’re much more compact than STVs. Allows them to ride between the houses and jump walls with them. We had one jump over the front wall a couple months ago. It was something to see. Stood on the bike seat, jumped up to the top of the wall, and had an attachment that pulled the bike up behind them. They were being chased by multiple HEAGENs up the alley and road and couldn’t successfully hide between the houses. I understand that incident even got them working on various subterranean hiding spots in the area that they can slide them and the bikes into. They’re young, but they mean business. So push those worries aside and tell us what the letter says.” 

 

She nodded as she tried to relinquish the concern and the marvel belonging to what she had just seen and learned. She shook her head, as if to shake her thoughts away as she pulled the letter from the envelope and found the first word of “Congratulations” wasn’t going to bring her the joy it intended.

 • • •

Ash sat back in her chair and chewed on the bread slowly as she examined the sweet scene before her. 

 

Naira, who had eaten well, was now experiencing the effects of ‘rest and digest.’ That, paired with the tiredness she had already been feeling, had resulted in her crawling into a large cushioned gliding chair situated under a potted fruit tree, decorated with warm-colored string lights, where she curled up with a local jo’oknenok and studied the lights until her eyes gave way and she fell into a restful slumber. 

 

She felt a smile come to her by reflex, as it was a precious vision to her — one she wanted to ingrain into her memory. 

 

“You’re being awfully quiet,” her father’s voice penetrated the silence of her mind as he continued. “What are you thinking about?” 

 

“A great many things,” she admitted with a sigh. “Thinking about how cherished Naira is to me. Thinking about how that potted tree has gotten so large, so fast. It was just a sapling when I first moved away. Thinking about that jo’oknenok; how I used to play and cuddle with it just like Naira has done. Cannot believe it’s still around. Thinking about the letter. The nonsense. And mostly: the other.” 

 

She looked at her father as he was pouring Wayra a drink, but still listening intently, as he nodded and glanced back where Naira had sheltered. 

 

“Jo’oknenoks have extensive lifespans for domesticated animals. That one always liked our house best in the neighborhood. And yes, I remember you cuddling with it when you were a couple quarturns older than she is now. A good study partner, too, if I recall correctly. Would sit and watch you. Gently bumping its head against your hand if your gaze diverted too long from your books.” 

 

She chuckled and nodded, having the memory recollected through her father’s words. 

 

“I had forgotten about that. I suppose I owe her some of the money in that award letter.” 

 

As her father laughed in a subdued volume, trying not to stir Naira, he took the award letter from the table and opened it again, rereading its contents. 

 

“This is a very generous offer, Ash,” he commented as he passed the letter to Wayra. 

 

Wayra, who had not yet looked at the letter, took it in hand and gestured with it as he asked. 

 

“Can I read it over?” 

 

“Of course you can,” she responded in an encouraging pitch. “I mean … I’ve already made my decision, but I think you should be fully aware of the situation.” 

 

“Don’t say that, Ash,” her mother remarked with a touch of pleading in her voice. 

 

She looked over to her mother, who was placing a log onto the fire of the outdoor stove, and further elaborated on her thoughts. 

 

“Don’t say you’ve already made your decision. This is something that requires, at the very least, some consideration. I … it’s enough money …” 

 

Her mother paused as she returned to the table and sat in her chair, leaning forward as she continued in a firm voice. 

 

“Take the offer, gather Wayra and Naira, and run. It’s enough money for you all to live off of. I’m going to volunteer Wayra for a support role while you get your Tier-1 degree; because you could use support during this next stage of your education, and he can pursue his own interests when you’re done. And I don’t want to hear ‘what about the pub’ and ‘what about us.’ I want to hear you’re all safe and away from this place.” 

She couldn’t help but smile and quietly chortle as she glanced at Wayra from the corner of her eye; he was experiencing the same humor in her mother’s extending his labor and agency to her. But with the humor came the sadness; the request, and its enlisting, was at its foundation not based in any sort of entitlement, but out of concern and care. 

 

She offered her mother a sympathetic expression as she spoke in a delicate tone. 

 

“I will grant you this. I won’t decline the offer right now. There is no rush in that. But there is little debate in my mind. I’ve chosen my life and I’m happy with that choice. I’m where I want to be.” 

 

Her mother attempted a smile as she absorbed what was said; closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she seemed to be accepting her choice. But as she opened her eyes, her attention was directed at Wayra as she spoke in earnest. 

 

“I want to make something clear to you … something I probably don’t need to say with you, being Attata and all. I sincerely don’t assign any blame to you for my daughter’s decision. Like some parents who would look at a partner and feel that they are holding them back. I believe I can speak for us both that such is not allocated to you.” 

 

“I’m aware of that,” Wayra confirmed with a light smile. “Though, as many Attata can attest, regardless of us knowing something, we enjoy hearing it. Thank you.”

 

“Well,” she interrupted, as she wanted to share her thoughts. “I need to make something of my own, clear. I’m not going to lie and say Wayra and Naira are not a factor in my decision; but they’re not the only factor. I’ve been harboring doubts about my future since my last quarturn of Tier-2 study. And while I didn’t understand where the hesitance was coming from, I knew it would reveal itself. And it did. In all I’ve experienced and seen since the incident in Udo. Now knowing what I know, I’m confident I could never return to my life before without regret. I — no matter how much I talked myself into believing I was creating a better world in my studies from afar — would feel like I abandoned the people who need help here … on the ground … in the now. I have the youth, the mind, the resources to do just that. Despite what you may think.” 

 

“Wait a moment,” her father requested, as he showed a puzzled expression. “What do you mean by ‘what you may think?’”

 

She released a vocal breath, as it was a consideration that had been moving through her mind; one that brought her both confusion and a measurable amount of sadness, as she wasn’t clear what her parents really thought of her. As her eyes searched the table briefly, she brought in another vocal breath and turned her attention to them both as she spoke.

“I misspoke. Because I actually don’t know what you think. I … I’m not accusing or blaming you of anything. I simply … when all of this unfolded, I felt so ill-prepared for the many realities of this world. I still don’t feel what one would call ready. Every day I’m astonished hearing what other people have endured. From the difficulty of sleeping on the streets, to the soul-crushing stories of abuse and death. Horrors that continue to reveal just how intensely guarded I was. And please don’t misunderstand, I’m grateful I didn’t experience some of what my peers have. But that’s why I said ‘despite what you may think’ — because I don’t know what you think of me in this sense. Why you kept me sheltered. Even to this literal day, as you tried to protect me from the HEAGENs at the door. Do you think I can’t handle it? Do you think I need to be far off in academia because of some inadequacy of my substance? I … you stayed here while you pushed me away. I …” 

 

As she couldn’t find any further words to articulate her mind, she could only gesture with her hands and shrug to the concerns she had laid before her parents. 

 

It was a contention that didn’t seem to upset her parents. They simply looked at one another, joined hands, and shared loving smiles; as if they were silently communicating the decision to share their undiminished truths. As they both nodded, her father returned his attention to her and offered a sincere expression as he elucidated. 

 

“Protecting you today was instinctual. I stood between you and HEAGEN the way I would have stood between Wayra and HEAGEN. Or your mother and HEAGEN. It’s not a reflection on how we think of you. What you’re capable of.” 

 

“I will proudly admit we actively chose to shelter you,” her mother acknowledged with confidence in her voice. “And no, it wasn’t based on any deficiency we saw in you. Quite the opposite. We discovered very early in your education, you weren’t brittle. That you could hear and read unpleasantries without having a panic attack. How you didn’t treat the average inconvenience as a trauma. That, when your gran-parents passed, you could accept natural death as a part of life. You came to us highly intelligent, emotionally strong, wonderfully adaptable, and with intuitive qualities that did prompt us to check our genetic lineage for any Attata ancestry — to which we found none. A gift bestowed upon you by the Universe. It was all these qualities that led us to raise you shielded from as much as we could, for as long as we could. The world, as you know, can be a hard, cruel, and chaotic place. We wanted to be the safe haven where you understood what genuine, healthy love was. A refuge to develop all of your incredible attributes in a contrasting space that would serve you and guide you down the right paths in the future. We have perfect faith in you.” 

 

“Additionally, my dear,” her father supplemented. “If there is one limitation we honestly recognized, it’s that while you are strong in the moment, your tolerance wanes quickly. I recall using the analogy that you’re a sprinter, not a long-distance runner, and we planned accordingly. Because of that, we believed that if we had allowed the full weight of the world on you earlier, you would have been burnt out by now. You needed to save up your strength for what you’re facing in the present.”

 

She sniffed loudly as the tears had been freely flowing. Her parents’ words had touched her profoundly, allowing her to know — with no doubt — their choices were out of love and trust. She pushed some of the larger tears from her face as she spoke around the deep breaths she was taking. 

 

“I’m so lucky to have you. I love you both so damn much.” 

 

“We love you!” her mother exclaimed. “And we’re lucky to have you. You’re the best decision we ever made together. Bringing us more joy than we could ever imagine.” 

 

“I …” she began to speak, wanting to express more of her gratitude towards her parents making clear their case and alleviating her worries, when she was interrupted by the subtle buzzer within the courtyard — alerting everyone that someone in the neighborhood was receiving a visit from HEAGEN, and needed observers. 

 

As her father and Wayra stood without a word — only expressing sighs of exasperation — they both moved to the gate, peeking their heads out, to participate in the neighborhood watch. 

 

It was a moment that felt like a sign. A reminder that while she was choosing a very hard road, with the confidence she had gained from her parents’ assurances, she was making the proper decision. Staying where she was. And knowing both intellectually, and by intuition, that she would make a bigger difference in the world at large, in Melchior.

Chapter 55

Book 1 — Chapter 55

Published Spring 2026

Day: Hynreno

Date: 39

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

City/Town: Melchior

Country: Minu

Miles felt his curiosity pique as he stepped into the vestibule and promptly heard Matu holler with disdain. 

 

“That’s a load of shit!” 

 

He felt his expression move into an involuntary grimace as he looked out into the pub to see Matu and Akiva behind the bar — with Arwell, Raer, O’cerne, and an unknown man sitting on the stools at the bar, obviously engaging with them. And while a conversation with Matu in this temper had become predictable, it wasn’t something he anticipated Matu would inflict on a patron. And by the look on the patron’s face, he was being subjected to all of Matu’s venom.

 

“Don’t give me that ‘your feelings are valid’ crap. I don’t subscribe to it,” Matu retorted with enmity. 

 

While he couldn’t clearly hear what the man was saying, it was still a moment that stayed his progress into the pub; considering that if he knew the context of the conversation, he might roil or take sides with the man. Both scenarios end in becoming a recipient of Matu’s ire. 

 

Yet, as his inquiring mind was overpowering his restraint, he reminded himself to tread carefully in one of the most effective manners: ears open, mouth closed.

 

As he made his way to stand next to Akiva, he greeted everyone between comments and asked.

 

“Hey y’all. What are we talking about?”

 

Matu shot him a glare and responded with irritation. 

 

“We’re talking about morality. You’re not involved.”

 

It was a reply that he figured would be lobbed at him — even in only making his presence known. Too, it was a moment that almost caused him to chortle aloud, as he was only a few seconds in and had already failed his self-prearranged strategy of avoiding rile. 

 

However, his presence wasn’t wholly unwelcome, nor his question dismissed; Akiva vocally sighed with force, illustrating her own vexation, and explained. 

 

“Well, Miles. This patron came over and decided to engage Raer in a debate about the 22 Pillars, morality, and apparently his dislike for Sanctuary. Matu caught a couple comments, vehemently disagreed, and decided to inject himself in. I’m just here to make sure it stays civil.”

 

The confusion immediately touched his brow, as he couldn’t fathom anything relating to Sanctuary would be something that Matu would have any interest in participating in. In his mind, Matu would be more likely to side with anyone who was repudiating the tenets and practices.

 

But his considerations ceased as Matu rolled his eyes and stated with irritation. 

 

“Moving on.” 

 

This appeared to be the prompt for the customer, who returned his attention to Raer and spoke in his own annoyed tone. 

 

“You Consigns push a bunch of rules that tell people if you don’t follow them, you will be punished by some damnation.” 

 

Raer shook her head, as an expression of perplexity touched her visage. Though she remained placid, as she elucidated in a mild tone. 


“I’m not clear how you’re determining this inaccuracy. Sanctuary knows that people are not perfect, and at times, unfortunate acts have to be committed for honest reasons. But Sanctuary does advocate for people to align themselves with the pillars. Pillars that are so reasonable, they have been designated by non-practitioners as ‘common sense morality.’ The pillars, they secure your liberty and those around you; too, they are meant to secure the absolution of your own soul.”

The man threw his arm in the air, as if he had found some victory in Raer’s words. 

 

There! That right there. The ‘absolution’ of my soul. If I don’t follow these pillars, my soul will be punished in some way. That’s mental manipulation.” 

 

Matu let out a cry of disbelief and goaded.

 

“Fucking! And that… that right there is why I came over here and got involved. So, and let me get this straight: you’re arguing that stating a consequence to an action is now ‘mental manipulation.’ So if your dumbass is about to walk off a cliff, my stating that you’re fucking stupid and about to fall to your death if you proceed is, as you say, ‘mental manipulation?’”

 

The man stumbled momentarily at his thoughts, as if trying to consider a response. But Matu did not give him a chance; he continued in an incensed tone.

 

“Get me here: I don’t have a stake in this, as I don’t give two shits about Sanctuary or some dumbass Consign that I really don’t like.”

 

“Hey!” Raer protested softly.

 

“Oh, shut up!” Matu roughly responded to Raer before returning his attention to the patron as he continued.

 

“But I do have a beneficial interest in what you’re saying because poor logic pisses me off. Shitty reasoning is fucking up this world right and left, and I’m sick of people like you wielding it.”

 

The man’s face showed anger at Matu’s words as he glared and defended his position with a hiss, showing he had lost his temper. 

 

“Sanctuary and Consigns are nothing but bullies, telling people if they don’t follow rules, they’ll meet some ultimate fate after …”

 

Matu interrupted. 

 

“No! Fuck that! What are you? Stupid or something? Directives are not bullying! They don’t know what’s on the other side. It might be nothing. It might be a load of things that should have us all shitting our pants in fear. None of us know. But I’ve been listening the whole time. She didn’t say shit about an afterlife punishment. You’re putting your own narration on her straightforward words. She said the pillars are there for the absolution of your soul; in the present tense. Because last time I checked, unless you’re mentally ill, committing some of those crimes in the pillars comes with serious personal ramifications. Like guilt for example. Fucking soul-crushing guilt. The shit that eats away at your being to the point you want to die as you can’t imagine what an afterlife could do to you that you’re not already doing to yourself. But yeah, continue with your asinine logic and ream her and all of Sanctuary for pointing out that if you put your hand in a fire, you’re going to get burned.”

“Fuck you,” the man muttered with bile in his tone. He stood from the seat and grabbed his belongings with exaggerated effort, indicating he was fuming.

 

Matu raised his voice so the man could hear him as he barged towards the door. 

 

“So did I piss you off by pointing out your stupid, simple-minded logic, or pointing out that you might be mentally ill? I’m not clear on that.”

 

As the man left, attempting to slam the door, Matu chuckled as he spoke.

 

“Yeah. I hit a nerve there. That was satisfying.” 

 

His attention was drawn to Raer, who raised her eyebrows, took a small sip of her drink, and sighed lightly. 

 

It was a reaction that Matu caught as well, as his voice returned to irritation as he defeated himself. 

 

“Oh, now what is your problem? I’m right in everything I said. Most certainly, how people like that, who have no idea how to actually apply logic, reason, and nuance, are ruining this fucking world. That should be one of your pillars.”

 

“It is. Cognition. Thought. That’s one of the encouraging pillars,” Raer replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “And yes; you were correct in everything you said.”

 

“Yeah. I only remember the obvious ones like murder, hypocrisy, stewardship,” Matu admitted as he released a continued agitated breath. 

 

Raer placed her cup down and released a vocal breath as her pitch turned to one of compassion as she offered. 

 

“Matu. If you ever …” 

 

No!” Matu shouted with anger. “Deo dammit, I knew this was going to happen. You Consigns just can’t help yourselves. Your officiousness. And you’re one of the worst offenders! You’re so nosy; wanting to be in everyone’s business. This wasn’t an invitation for you to help me. I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. Remember what I said and get it through your head. I meant everything. Ev-er-ry-thing. Fucking … I’m so sick of all of you.”

 

As Matu stormed off out of the pub through the side door, Miles closed his eyes to calm his own rising irk and felt the timing couldn’t have been more perfect; for if he heard one more syllable out of Matu, he was going to have a conversation right quick. 

 

He opened his eyes as Akiva groaned vocally and commented. 

 

“Well, we won’t be getting a positive review from that guy. And … yeah …” 

 

But as his eyes returned to Raer, he noted her eyes were cast to her cup and her cheeks had flushed with embarrassment. It was a response that was honest given the words thrown at her; but he was wishing she wouldn’t waste such energies on the likes of Matu. 

 

“You okay? My sister from another Sena?” he asked with an intonation of playfulness and comfort. 

 

It was one that seemed to have some solace, as Raer showed a light smile and nodded gently as she answered. 

 

“I’m okay. I’m somewhat used to him. Somewhat.” 

 

“I hope you understand why we were reticent to interject. People who are pure shit will always hope you’ll be the adult in the room, be the bigger person, so they don’t have to face consequences for their actions. And Matu takes advantage that, as he knows we’re the adults in this room,” O’cerne clarified as he ruffled the back of Raer’s hair in what seemed to be an attempt to comfort her in a detached manner.

 

“Being honest without tact is just being cruel,” Arwell offered. 

 

Though his comment was accurate, it wasn’t an agreeable one, as the implications of the honesty in Matu’s words towards Raer prompted Raer to rub her lips together and smile uncomfortably. It was the combination of Arwell’s attempt to add to the conversation and Raer’s expression that sent both him and O’cerne into snickers they tried to contain. 

 

However, Akiva didn’t find the moment as endearingly comical as they did, as she rolled her eyes and head and breathed out with vexation. “Dear, Deo.” 

 

“Rolling your eyes doesn’t work on me. I know you’re being emotionally illiterate,” Arwell teased Akiva’s response. 

 

Akiva slammed her hand to the bar multiple times before she turned and followed the direction that Matu had left, in what he hoped was the endeavor to kick Matu’s ass. 

 

It was a passing that didn’t seem to bother Arwell, who inquired in a soft tone of sincerity.

“Are you okay?”

 

“I am,” Raer responded clearly. “I know Matu doesn’t like me. I don’t offer counsel as a vehicle to change that. I approach him as a Consign. Just wish he wasn’t so fond of telling me he doesn’t like me at every opportunity he sees.” 

 

“Yeah … you’re okay,” O’cerne commented with a chuckle as he tousled Raer’s hair again. 

 

As he released his own sigh from the situation, he turned his attention to O’cerne and asked.

 

“Well, then … O’cerne. What are you doing here?’ 

 

“I came to see everyone,” O’cerne responded with a shrug as his modulation moved from sincere to sarcastic and back. “My partner, she took the girls down to Se’atipo to visit some family and told me to make myself scarce. Which is always a welcome sentiment to hear from your partner. Anyways … there are some leads I have my official hands on. Thought I would come up, make it a bit of a work-cation …” 

 

O’cerne paused as a grin came to his face and he continued in a teasing tone. 

 

“Handful of days to look around and be noo-seeyy.” 

 

He chuckled as O’cerne chose his words in an attempt to cheer Raer up; poking fun at Matu’s tirade. 

 

And while Raer did smile lightly, she didn’t have an opportunity to respond as Wayra and Ash entered the pub to sounds of happiness between Ash and Raer as they hugged and gushed their greeting towards one another that he couldn’t catch. 

 

But his attention was drawn to Wayra, who greeted Raer, Arwell, and O’cerne with a gentle handwave and a “hello all.” 

 

As Wayra placed himself in front of O’cerne, his tone turned apologetic as he passed along information. 

 

“Good to see you, O’cerne. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Porter messaged me very early this morning. Said he didn’t message you directly as he knew you would be sleeping in today. But he had to pick up another shift and won’t be able to catch up with you until later. Asked me to send his apologies.” 

 

“That’s fine,” O’cerne accepted with a gesture of indifference. “I’ve been highly entertained since my arrival.’ 

 

“Why? What happened?” Ash questioned in a hesitant inflection.

 

“Matu chased off one of your only customers in an attempt to educate through insults and rage,” Arwell reported with the cadence of a broadcaster. “Matu also yelled at Raer, as he again informed her he doesn’t like her nor any of the Consigns; even though Matu is afraid to say he follows the pillars and probably secretly goes to Sanctuary. And my sister has gone after Matu because she’s confused. And maybe a bit bored.” 

 

He couldn’t help but laugh at Arwell’s delivery of what had transpired — provided in a manner that felt he were satirizing the whole interaction. It was a laugh that was shared by Raer, O’cerne, and Wayra. A laugh that only increased in its energy as Ash stopped mid-task, with her mouth agape and a visage of pure bewilderment as she commented. 

 

“I’m sorry … what?” 

 

But her answer didn’t come from Arwell as he directed his attention to Raer and asked with an explanation.

 

“When O’cerne touched your hair, I noticed the curls are like coil springs. They bounced back into place. Since I’m told I should always ask permission to touch someone; I’m formally asking permission to touch one of your curls. Pull it. I won’t be severe.”

 

“Thank you for asking,” Raer responded warmly. “You’re welcome to.” 

 

He looked at Ash, whose confusion turned to one of being charmed as Arwell pulled the curl several times, watching it stretch and bounce back into place as he seemed mesmerized with its elasticity. 

 

But all of their attentions were cut short, as Akiva came through the door and yelled at Arwell.

 

“Dammit Arwell, what are you doing now?” 

 

“Being an observer of the Universe,” Arwell replied with a focused chuckle as he pulled the curl one last time to watch it bounce.

 

“My blood alcohol level is too low to deal with this,” Akiva announced with exasperation as she moved down the bar to her declared seat and plopped down onto it with an angry thud.

 

“O’cerne. Since Porter isn’t going to be around for a while, do you want to come over to the store?” Arwell asked with a hopeful accentuation. “I got a new game in. I think you’ll like it. It’s a deduction and process of elimination game. I even have a couch you can sleep on, since Porter doesn’t like people at his place. It’s really clean. You’ll like it.”

“And if a couch isn’t your ideal, you’re always welcome to stay here. We have plenty of rooms,” Wayra posed as an alternative to consider, though he clarified. “Not trying to steal him away from you, Arwell.” 

 

Arwell nodded in understanding, but was visibly waiting eagerly for O’cerne’s answer as he shifted in his seat from side to side. 

 

“Don’t do it, O’cerne,” Akiva warned in a sardonic note. “He’ll get you in his store and never let you leave if you play a game with him. You’ll be hostage to his awkwardness — which apparently has enchanted you all for some reason. Dammit Arwell, can’t I have friends of my own?” 

 

Arwell’s face fell into bafflement, as if the question itself were something ridiculous to even consider, as he replied with a simple “No.” 

 

“I’ll be happy to join you, Arwell,” O’cerne agreed with a bright smile as he continued. “I haven’t had the chance to play games in a while and would enjoy learning from a master. As for the couch. I will take you up on that, too. I do thank you for the offer, Wayra. But in all seriousness, some Watchers have been around since I arrived. They didn’t pay me much mind, but the more we spread ourselves out, the better. Too much congregation can arouse suspicion among the already suspecting.”

 

“That’s a very good point,” Wayra acknowledged, adding with a chuckle. “Pragmatism be fortune.” 

 

“Indeed,” O’cerne agreed with a laugh and announced. “Let’s get going, Arwell. Need to pick up some snacks on our way to your place.” 

 

As Arwell bounced from the stool with animation, he followed O’cerne, showing a glow of anticipation in having a gaming friend for the evening.

 

With O’cerne’s and Arwell’s exit, he turned his attention to Wayra, who smiled; it seemed he, too, enjoyed seeing the spark of happiness in Arwell. 

 

But as Wayra’s mind appeared to be task managing, his smile faded quickly as a conclusion came to him, and he turned without a word and moved into the kitchen. 

 

“Every day, y’all test me and and hold my destination in the afterlife in peril,” Akiva commented in a scornful tone. “And you!” 

 

He looked at Akiva to see who she was referencing — to find it was Raer. 

 

It was a focus that Raer noticed as well and asked in a surprised voice. 

 

“Me? What did I do?” 

 

“Letting him pull your curls. Why did you do that? Why do you all always accommodate his dumb requests? Let him do the goofiest things?”

 

“Akiva,” Ash said in a firm pitch. “You’re being preposterous. It wasn’t goofy in the slightest. We’re always playing with each other’s hair. And even if it was a little silly, it was done amongst friends who know the context.”

 

Akiva didn’t seem to mind Ash’s words as she ignored what was said and continued to speak to Raer directly. 

 

“I don’t know why you would let him do that anyways. You can’t afford someone playing with your hair, the way it always falls out. You already have spots that are almost bald. But it has always been a disaster. Dear Deo, when it was longer there was not standing near you on a windy day or you would get a mouthful of hair. It’s why Wayra doesn’t want you helping in the kitchen. He has enough problems without your hair being in every bite of food. Can’t even use a hat unless you have an adhesive roller to get all the hair off your clothing. It’s disgusting.” 

 

Akiva!” Ash yelled with a mix of disbelief and outrage. 

 

It was a shared appalment that exploded within him. He was aghast that Akiva would be so unkind. So shocked, he couldn’t even articulate a defense for Raer nor an attack towards Akiva’s behavior. 

 

He found himself blinking and shaking his head, his mouth trying to formulate words to chide Akiva, who looked away with a huff. 

 

With no words coming forth, he turned his attention to Raer — to find in the few moments of shock, she had rushed from the pub without a word. 

 

His attention turned to Ash, who simultaneously looked at him, mouth agape and eyes blazing with anger. 

 

But neither could speak as the kitchen door flew open wide, as Wayra came out and asked in a troubled volume. 

 

“What just happened?” 

 

As his crossness was now the predominant emotion, he gestured to Akiva and fussed. 

 

“Akiva just ripped into Raer and sent her running, which has pissed us off right good. What the shit is wrong with you?”

“I’m really frustrated, dammit!” Akiva yelled at his question. “I’m feeling really pent up. Frustrated. Furious because of … it doesn’t matter! I’m not perfect! I have bad days, too.” 

 

“No one expects you to be perfect,” Wayra returned. “However, we do expect you not to be an ass.” 

 

“Get off my back, already!” Akiva yelled as she jumped from her seat, swung her wings to mock push, causing air to rush and the nearby glasses to all clink as they vibrated from the wind. And with a fast pace, Akiva stomped out of the pub and up the stairs. Leaving them all again in a state of consternation.

 

• • •

“Are you not talking to me, either?” Akiva asked in a dejected tone as she peeked her head into the commons room. 

 

He looked at her from his seat on the couch, but returned his attention to his book as he answered. 

 

“I’m talking to you. I just don’t know if you’ll like what I have to say.”

 

“Veritable,” Akiva commented as she meandered into the room. 

 

He kept his head dropped into his book, though his eyes glanced from under his brow, watching as Akiva wandered a bit, randomly observing items around the room, before she flopped onto the chaise lounge with a sigh.  

 

As he returned his eyes to his book, Akiva sighed again in a loud and exaggerated manner, obviously fishing for him to begin the exchange. It reminded him of the words O’cerne had shared earlier that day, posing if he would have to be the adult in the room. Though he didn’t believe Akiva to be a “shit person.” He believed Akiva was having a bad day; something everyone had. And while he didn’t agree with how she expressed her natural mood in this case, he did believe in showing grace whenever he could. 

 

He closed his book and set the tablet on the table as he turned his attention to Akiva and offered a sympathetic expression to ease her, but let her guide the conversation.

 

“I know I was in the wrong,” she admitted with a tone of discomfort. 

 

“That’s good,” he acknowledged.  

 

Pfft. Being in the wrong is not good,” she argued with a roll of her eyes. 

 

“Oh, come on. You’re an intelligent, worldly woman. You can’t possibly believe that,” he said with surprise.

 

Akiva’s eyes glanced to the ceiling in thought. But he found a grin come to him as he observed her mouth curled at the edge on one side, obviously suppressing the smile that his honest compliment had brought her. 

 

“No, you’re on register,” she commented with a shake of her head. “Let me amend what I just said. Cerebrally, I know that being wrong, and knowing that I am, isn’t a bad thing. Learning, revising, and in turn evolving, is a positive. Emotionally — yeah, it’s fun to learn — but when you attach the being wrong as a precursor, it can hurt and be really embarrassing.”

 

He nodded as he fully empathized with her perspective. Yet it seemed, as she presented, that she was allowing herself an out as he commented. 

 

“Yeah, no, that’s totally fair. And while I’m an espouser of holistic cognition — recognizing the need to approach all matters with logic, reason, and all feeling — unless required, you can’t let a single one of those dictate your behavior. So, yeah. I’m empathetic to your being all in your negative feels about being in the wrong — but not at the expense of leaving Raer without an apology.” 

 

“I’m working on that,” she claimed with tension in her voice. “I’m just not in a good headspace right now.”

 

He felt a tinge of frustration come to him as he could see and hear, she was becoming agitated again. It was something that he knew had to have a source. And until that source was addressed, she wouldn’t be pleasant.

 

He kept his voice even toned as he asked. 

 

“You want to tell me why you’re not in a good headspace?” 

 

Akiva closed her eyes and rolled her head, as if she were working a crick out of her neck. As she seemed to have succeeded, she opened her eyes and groaned as she spoke. 

 

Uuuggghhh … It’s hard to explain. It’s a Watzeen thing we keep to ourselves; you wouldn’t get it.” 

 

“Maybe not,” he admitted.

“I wish those lavender eyes of yours were because you had some Watzeen in you, maybe I wouldn’t feel so removed and I could get this fixed,” Akiva commented as she pulled her knees up to her chest, rubbed her legs with her hands, and showed a coy grin.  

 

He felt his brow furrow in confusion as his mouth turned up in a grin; he wasn’t certain where she was leading. She was expressing herself; and yet seemed to be teasing — which was illuminating his intrigue. He chortled as he asked. 

 

“Okay. So you wish I was Watzeen because only a Watzeen could fix what you’re experiencing?”

 

He felt his confusion deepen as Akiva’s grin softened, accommodating her lips to rub together in a slow, exaggerated manner that was presenting itself as sincere flirtation. It was only as she bit her lip and her grin returned did he feel more confident in his perceptivity. Though it ebbed slightly upon Akiva’s response to his question.

 

“It’s … a Watzeen thing. An advancement thing,” she explained with a teasing tone that further confused him. “It’s such a shame that Humes didn’t evolve to be known for their … talents.” 

 

As Akiva emphasized the word ‘talents’ with a coquettish inflection, it forced a chuckle from him as he shook his head and asked for clarity. 

 

“Wait. I’m going to surmise … Are we talking about what I think we’re talking about?”

 

“What do you think we’re talking about?” she responded with a frisky accentuation.

 

“Okay. Yeah, no, for sure, we’re talking about …” 

 

He paused — as while he was now wholly aware what the topic was, it took a moment before the realization of Akiva’s insult struck him. It was a slight that shocked him to amusement with his disbelief, as a full-on laugh accompanied his objection.

 

“Dear Deo, hold on! That’s some errant shit right there. What do you mean Humes didn’t evolve?”

 

Akiva again rolled her eyes as she responded, retaining her sportive tone.  

 

“Oh yeah, Humes evolved alright. I’m sure your people’s carping and whining has a distinct evolutionary purpose.”

 

“Damn, Akiva!” he exclaimed with a burst of laughter that was also accompanied by another defense. “I have to say, you’re perfectly ignorant of Hume’s capabilities. I’m doubtless in my, as you put it, talents.” 

 

Akiva released a hoot of skepticism as she pointed towards his lap and remarked with playful derision. 

 

“Add bunk-shit to your people’s distinct evolutionary traits. Your talents aren’t up to par. Curse of Humes’ anatomy.” 

 

He felt his mouth fall open as he was stunned by Akiva’s words — and yet, he knew exactly what she was playing at, which prompted him to chuckle as he retorted. 

 

“Don’t mess with me.” 

 

“Then don’t make it so appealing!” she declared with a giggle. 

 

As she jumped from the lounge to a stand, she placed her hands on her hips and her wings appeared to vibrate for a moment as her expression moved from one of playfulness to one of alluring attraction. She again bit her lip as her voice came forward with a low, sultry pitch.

 

“Well, since it seems to be my day to be in the wrong, let’s add another entry to my list. Prove. Me. Wrong.”

 

Akiva swayed from the room, leaving him both nonplussed and simultaneously stimulated. He released a breath through rounded lips as his mind began moving through the considerations that were actualizing before him. He was certainly attracted to her. And had been yearning for a type of intimacy that would both relax and revive. Yet, he had some concerns. 

 

But as his thoughts shifted to and fro, one jumped to the forefront as it felt like it nearly shouted at him to not keep her waiting; he could ask questions prior, but to not dismiss the invitation he had desired. 

 

He jumped from the couch and moved into the hall with speed, as he wasn’t clear where Akiva had gone. As he looked toward her room, he noted nothing that indicated she was there. His head naturally turned toward the other end of the hall, towards the stairs of the third floor when his eyes fell on Akiva’s wings, gently moving as if they were a hand, beckoning him to them. 

 

As his more amorous cravings were driving his actions, he found his pace down the hall to be one of urgency, as he didn’t want to lose sight of his inducement. 

 

Upon meeting the stairs, he quickly ascended, noting that the shoes against the flooring sounded particularly loud as he was almost at a jog. But it was a tempo that appeared to be insufficient, as he exited the stairwell into the third floor hall to find Akiva absent from view. 

 

His mind immediately concluded that he would check every available room. But it was a plan that didn’t require action, as a large thud down the hall clearly indicated that the roof bulkhead had been opened and had caught the wind — causing it to strike the door frame and providing him a directive.

He again found his momentum to be almost involuntary as he hurried down the hall to the stairs that led to the roof. 

 

As he rushed up the stairs and came upon the roof, he shut the door behind him and examined his surroundings. 

 

At first, he was struck with disappointment, as Akiva was not to be seen. A fact that presented him with a sting of anticlimactic pain. Yet, as the wind that night was mild in both temperature and strength, it touched his impassioned skin with a cooling effect, allowing him to release the denied anticipation with a purposeful breath. It was a whiff that brought with it a fine smell as the seasonal foliage was perfumed and wafting through the air. A pleasance that was accompanied by the evening’s lights; Melchior, despite its issues, had a diverting skyline that wouldn’t allow him to be mad.

 

But as the calm was beginning to move over him, his full attention was reawakened, as Akiva spoke over his shoulder with confusion and fuss.

 

“What are you doing? Get over here!”

 

He felt his body pull backward as Akiva grabbed his upper arm and turned his body with little effort, directing his back against the side wall of the bulkhead. She pressed into him, initiating a kiss that rekindled his desires with an explosion of fervor.

 

Though with the ardor came a recognition; as he moved to embrace Akiva, he wasn’t clear where to hold her as his hands naturally wanted to move to the spots where her wings resided. It was a moment that elicited a smile under the kisses that he couldn’t suppress, as he moved his mouth from her lips to her neck — allowing the humor of his own unfamiliarity to pass. 

 

However, the humor didn’t linger, as Akiva’s breaths of passion brought him back to the moment of focus. He took each of her body’s leans as a signal of where she wanted him to grasp and grope. 

 

Through the shower of kisses, he noticed Akiva was guiding him down the wall towards the back. As they came around its corner, his leg bumped into one of the larger chairs that had been on the roof; seemingly placed behind the bulkhead on purpose, for this purpose, as Akiva pushed him to sit with playful force. 

 

He chuckled under the kiss that was still uniting them as Akiva was taking the lead towards their coupling. But with the chuckle came a disengagement; Akiva pulled away and, still bent over at the waist to be near his face, spoke firmly her conditions. 

 

“Let’s get three things straight. This isn’t a budding relationship; this is friends with benefits. We keep this to ourselves and keep it discreet. And either of us can end this recreational concord at our discretion; no explanation needed, no hard feelings felt. Agreed?”

 

“Agreed,” he responded quickly as he dove into her mouth for a deep kiss. 

 

As Akiva moved to straddle his lap, he suddenly realized this was the moment. But with it came a question about their current circumstances. 

 

“Wait. Won’t random people see us?” 

 

“Deo, I hope so,” Akiva riposted as she moved onto him with a lascivious giggle. 

 

• • •

“I’ve never been more happy to be so completely wrong,” Akiva laughed as she brushed her hair with her fingers, attempting to reshape it from its disheveled appearance. “Be proud. You fixed it better than it’s been fixed in a while.” 

 

As he stood and stretched, letting the last sensations of pleasure pulse through him, he couldn’t help but laugh with some astonishment as he asked. 

 

“So that’s what’s been up your ass today? You’ve been in a bad mood because you wanted sex?” 

 

“Wanted, no. Needed, yes,” she responded as she continued to fix her clothing to a presentable state. “While I admit that you proved me wrong and made me a very happy woman, I still stand by my statement that it’s a Watzeen thing that some have a hard time wrapping their heads around. It’s not just lust. If it was, I’m sure I could find any asshole at any of the local bars up for a screw. It’s more about … Deo, trying to find the right words … I guess you could say comradery. Not a romantic relationship, but not a rando. I … you’re here, you get what’s going on and the strain we’re all feeling. You can bring the mutual energy to the proverbial bed that allows us both to release that angst. And today was a potent day of said angst. Got some news earlier from my family that is going to suck serious ass for everyone down the road and I just didn’t deal well with it.” 

 

“What kind of news?” he questioned, as her words, while plain, were raising his trepidation.

 

“The ‘not good’ kind. The ‘reason you’re here’ kind. The ‘what keeps Wayra up at night and prodding the futures with his graces’ kind. But we can talk about this later as I’ve gotta go,” she answered as she pulled her wings out, preparing for flight. 

 

“Wait,” he stated, interrupting her takeoff. “Where are you going?” 

 

“To talk to Raer and apologize,” she clarified with a sigh. “Now that I’m in a better headspace, I’m ready to admit I was horrible to her. And damn, I was really horrible. I … you’ll find out as time passes that Raer’s life is pretty much one beautiful destruction after another exquisite catastrophe. It takes a toll on her mentally and physically. Why her hair is the way it is; falling out as it does. I know she’s sensitive about it, and I used it to hurt her. I was horrible and I have to make amends.”

 

He watched as Akiva burst into the sky, sending a rush of air past him that lifted dirt and dust, causing him to blink rapidly to avoid any particles getting into his eyes. 

 

As debris settled, his eyes moved skyward to catch a last glimpse of Akiva disappearing into the night. He found little happiness in knowing Akiva would soon be seeing Raer with contrition, as his thoughts remained on what she said. Not just with Raer, but with the enigmatic news that brought about Akiva’s appalling behavior. It had left him with a disconcerting feeling. One that made him wonder if, like Raer, all of their lives were about to become — as Akiva had put it —  ones of beautiful destruction and exquisite catastrophe.

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