Book 1 — Chapter 57 - Part II

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Day: Hyningo

Date: 1

Month: Oketekarium

Quarturn: 1618

City/Town: Hylaton

Country: Minu

 

As he sat on the bench next to Jacinth in Sanctuary, Tane found a sense of comfort shower down upon him. It was as if each metaphorical drip of water were touching his skin in succession — and gradually washing his tension down and out from head to foot.

 

Such relief was a surprise to him as he didn’t believe his current condition would allow such. He was still frazzled by the events of the day — a state that only increased upon him and Jacinth leaving Hylatee headquarters. 

 

For as soon as they exited the doors, at least five Watchers began trailing them, in one of the most obvious displays he had ever witnessed. Something so pronounced that Jacinth — who had in the past, always addressed them in a nonchalant manner — was a great deal more forceful, telling a couple of them, who were shadowing far too close, that they were ‘testing the limits on harassment’ and ‘to exercise decorum and discretion.’ A request that wasn’t respected; they not only continued to tail closely, but two of the Watchers followed them into Sanctuary. The Watchers were sitting so near that he and Jacinth could hear their random sniffs and lip smacks. 

 

However — despite what felt like a full-on pursuit that was, in truth, still ongoing — once in Sanctuary, a placidity and security surrounded him that provided a respite for his racing mind and heart.

 

Though to say Sanctuary, at that moment, was a shelter of quiet and solitude, would have been a misnomer; it was humming with quite a few people and their activities.

 

As he had experienced in the past when accompanying Jacinth, Sanctuary wasn’t simply a place which one could gather and worship at designated times. It was a place of community. A place of Consign perspicuity. A place of repose and reflection. And at the current moment — on the opposite side from where they sat — a place of education, as several Consigns were participating in an open lecture to a large group of Consigns-in-training. One of those teaching Consigns, who he presumed was the reason for their visit, was Raer.

 

He glanced at Jacinth, who smiled and nodded as he was obviously already deeply engaged in what was being instructed. Following his lead, he focused his attention on the male Consign as he — addressing the second female Consign’s comment — spoke. 

 

“Well, yes. But the practice of faith, only when it’s opportune, is a hollow faith. In all actuality, it’s devoid of practice and faith.” 

 

“Well said,” the female Consign agreed with a smile. “Though I do wish for students to remember, our legacies as Consigns must be rooted in kindness, generosity, and love. This should be done with humility and nuance. And I do encourage such in that order.” 

 

It was a statement that garnered some chuckles from the students. Something that perhaps was an inside joke, as he didn’t understand the context. Though from what little he had learned about Consigns, humility seemed to be a large focus on how they approached their charges.

 

The male Consign turned his attention to Raer, who paced back and forth with arms crossed, and asked. 

 

“Your expression is prompting curiosity in me. Do you not agree with our statements?”

 

While he could only see Raer’s profile as she turned in her back-and-forth pacing, he could easily discern that her visage was one of concern and contemplation. She shook her head and softly spoke the word “no.”

 

Raer’s single word provoked a couple of hums and questioning looks. But, in what seemed like a awareness of the lingering, Raer snapped to clarity and quickly explained. 

 

“No. I mean. I’m sorry, I got a little hung up on one of the words in your statement. I do agree with what you both said. My mind went into a silent tangent.”

 

“I think we’d all be interested in hearing what you were thinking,” the female Consign remarked in an encouraging tone. 

 

“I …” Raer paused for a moment as her brow furrowed deeper, and she shook her head. “No … my thoughts are disjointed.” 

 

“You speak as if no value can come from a stream of consciousness,” a man’s voice spoke with a volume that, while at first, quite loud, decreased as he advanced. 

 

It was a voice he recognized as soon as he heard it: Master Consign Linkraf. 

 

He watched as Linkraf approached the group with a broad smile of knowing, prompting the other Consigns to pause their movements and bow gently in what he knew was an acknowledgement of Linkraf’s senior status. 

 

It was a gesture that was received with a nod and a deeper bow in return. Though no words of greetings or introductions were relayed; it appeared Linkraf was keenly focused on continuing his question with Raer, as his voice took on an almost teasing tone. 

 

“Because I subscribe to the notion that even a single word, placed in the right context, can speak volumes.” 

 

He felt a light grin come to him; Raer’s face relinquished some of her stress as she released a vocal sigh that carried with it both exasperation and capitulation. She offered a weary smile as she uncrossed her arms, and brought her hand to the pendant of her necklace. Using her fingers to rub the pendent, she returned to her pacing as she spoke. 

 

“Master Consign Linkraf is perfectly right on both accounts: that value can be gained from even the smallest word, and that this will certainly be a stream of consciousness.”

 

Several of the students and Consigns lightly chuckled as Raer’s tone and delivery impressed a jocular tone of dread. It was a response that seemed to please Raer; her face lightened further as she shared her mind. 

 

“Allow me to preface with some context. I’m going to explain something that only those who are close to me have the burden of knowing. A descriptive of my faculties. I compare it to the very old Hume game known as pinball. For those who have never heard of such, it’s a machine that houses small metal balls — ones you launch onto a playfield — that is filled with bumpers, slingshots, and all manner of obstacles that are designed to increase and decrease the speed of the ball. The object is to keep the ball within the playfield, using what they call flippers, for as long as possible, scoring points. The first time I saw one, not only did it tickle me seeing the use of angles, springs, and gravity to create this wonderfully chaotic game, but there was an ‘ah-ha’ moment; here is the physical representation of how my mind works.” 

 

He felt a chuckle rise in him and escape his lips; he was familiar with the Hume game of pinball, and while he could clearly see it being used as an apt analogy for how some minds work, it was also a humorous one to apply. 

 

It was a titter that was shared with many of the people in attendance — including Jacinth, who seemed to enjoy the comparison, as he laughed liberally. Yet it was a response that Raer seemed to feel she needed to defend as she quickly spoke and explained in a diffident tone.

 

“I know it may sound off … but to imagine the ball as my original consideration, rolling through my mind, striking a thought — represented here by one of the bumpers or slingshots — and something in that thought, causes it to ricochet at great speed over to another thought, which does the same in its turn, over and over. All the while, I’m desperately trying to keep the ball in play to my original cogitation by frantically pressing on the flippers only to find I have sent the ball down a channel with a spinner at the end that sealed the doom of that brainwork.” 

 

Laughter again came forward, only this time with more vigor, as the descriptive was one that was telling and a little more relatable than he was caring to admit. It was a humor that struck nearly everyone as they erupted in laughter, including the Watchers. But perhaps no laughter was more enthusiastic than Linkraf’s as he moved away from the group briefly, indulging in the humor that had been stirred. 

 

However, it was a response that prompted Raer to try to hide her grimace behind a warped smile that gave away the self-consciousness she was feeling. A reaction that only increased the laughter for some as she bashfully hid her face behind her hands. 

 

Such garnered some noises of sympathetic expressions through the giggles. Though Linkraf, after he had composed himself, moved over to Raer and brought her into an embrace of support that was followed by a gentle kiss to the crown of her head in a warm, paternal manner. 

 

“While I was aware of this analogy you have placed upon yourself, I’m also aware of your sphere of influence, and how some in that sphere wholly believe that much of the mind works on association. And all of that is what you’ve described. Something leads to an association, and you follow that until another association is formed, sending you off again,” Linkraf explained in an encouraging tone as he released Raer from his embrace. 

 

But as Linkraf stepped back and his attention returned to the original question, his voice took a more serious pitch as he continued. 

 

“I do appreciate you sharing this personal anecdote, at the cost of your own ease, to provide us with insight and some refreshing laughter. But I still insist that you reveal what you were thinking … in its entirety.” 

 

He felt his face soften into slight worry; Raer’s own expression deflated to concern as her brow shifted and her lips pursed. She released a vocal breath and spoke with a voice that choked, as if she were about to cry. 

 

“As I said, my thoughts are disjointed. Nearly random by some measure. But the word that sent this ball rolling was, hollow. It first brought a recent experience to mind. While I was on some Consign business, I was given the chance to visit a pillar. I took said opportunity to pray into its hollow: a generic — albeit sincere — prayer for peace. I returned to Sanctuary. An empty one at the time. Allowing me to sit in what I anticipated would be silence. But Sanctuary isn’t quiet. It’s simply not built that way. Everything from the shape of the building to the materials used is meant to reverberate sound, so that even those in the far and away from the center can hear a Consign speak. My footsteps rebounded. My sighs lingered beyond my lips closing. Even my breath echoed. Which — given our souls are bound to our life at first breath — made my realization all the more poignant. And this enlightenment: something that’s not taught to us, but upon full attention, is obvious. The designers of Sanctuary knew; sound is a form of prayer. From our breaths to our spoken words, they recognized the reverence in resonance.” 

 

He felt a light chortle come to him — one that was shared with many others with various degrees of volume, as Raer’s choice of phrasing apparently tied her tongue based on her expression. It was one Linkraf also noted as he spoke. 

 

“Indeed. Say that five times fast: ‘recognized the reverence in resonance.’ But the content of your words is irrefutable. Please, continue on.”

 

“I …” Raer paused as her voice again cracked. “My understanding became clearer; the authors of Sanctuary knew how desperately people want to be seen, and more so, want to be heard. They made something that allowed voices to rise up into the hollows and resonate around them and into the Universe. It … and in what comes as no surprise to anyone who knows anything about me, I began to cry. I … everything feels so ugly right now. I became overwhelmed by it, and vocally mourned and listened. It provided such a sharp contrast, as I realized that even my mourning was a prayer. Tears are truly sacred. It was a call for help. A plea for signs and clarity. The surrounding resonance; the vibrations … they felt strangely hopeful. But that thought ceased as it was bounced, like the pinball, to one of my personal critiques of Sanctuary. The heavy reliance on platitudes in teaching. How abridged teachings lack nuance and can become dangerously close to being trite … or, in this case, hollow. Which led me to recall a recent lecture that spoke of how society's minds and emotions are emaciated by a lack of sincerity. How this manufactured phenomenon ‘life of plastic’ is metaphorically swallowing us into the hollow. People as a whole are famished for authenticity and genuineness … for substance and meaning …” 

 

Raer paused as she lifted her fingers to her eyes, clearing them of the tears that were pooling on her eyelid, threatening to break their banks. Her vocal breaths only confirmed her rising sorrow as her voice ebbed as she spoke. 

 

“Which led me to the next thought: the near-epidemic levels of hollow grief people are experiencing. I see it multiple times a day with our charges. Hollow grief, or as some refer to it as disenfranchised grief or ambiguous loss, is manifesting in abundance. People truly lamenting an unrealized present and lost futures. It becomes unbearable at times … so many are mourning the promising lives we anticipated we’d all be living by now. But these past solar years have been … I have a handful of true disdains, and one of them is waste. To see life wasted as it has been these past solar years  — wasting lives that are not their own by people who are jealous of hope and promise — it’s heartbreaking and it’s an abomination against Deo. And I refuse to accept it. I will not allow this course to continue. Where more people are shattered by what could have been because they were prevented by the few. My heart and soul have communed with Deo. It isn’t just a feeling that Deo is on my side, but more importantly, knowing my intentions align with Deo in this. I don’t know how …” 

 

“Raer!” a masculine voice called out as it entered the Sanctuary from the larger back door. 

 

Raer and everyone else paused as they turned toward the Consign who called out. He was rushing, as if urgency wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the pace and expression on his face. As he met Raer, his head moved close to Raer as he carefully whispered into her ear and relayed his message. 

 

Whatever he told her immediately caused her face to turn from the sorrow she was expressing to a deep concern that was tinged with anger. 

 

As the Consign stepped away from Raer, she nodded, and with a turn on her heel, faced the collection of student Consigns, bowed graciously, and spoke in a firm voice. 

 

“I apologize for the interruption. I must end this here as I have something in need of attention forthwith.”

 

Raer then turned towards Linkraf and her Consign peers, bowed, and — with as much haste as the male Consign entered — followed him out of the doors, and away from sight. 

 

It was a moment that not only brought confusion, but too, a smatter of disappointment as he was finding a personal fire being ignited in her words. Something about the way she said, with such certainty, that she was not going to allow this course to continue. It was certainly not something he believed she could do as a singular entity; however, he had a moment where he truly believed she could be an integral part in changing the world for the better.

 

But such considerations on how and in what capacity were not to be had at that moment; his attention was drawn back to Linkraf, who addressed the student Consigns with his own strong pitch. 

 

“That proves what I said: that value can be found in a stream of consciousness. And I hope you, as students, deeply consider all of what was said today. However, I do wish to reiterate something as an underscore. We are in a time and place in which we need to become much more candid about our practice, our faith, ourselves, and our charges. Where we, leading with love for the many, will be challenged on how to pursue contradictory actions against the evil of the few. That is all I will say for the time being. And with that, I believe this is a good time to end this lecture as I’m confident you all have a great deal to digest. Thank you and goodday.” 

 

He found another breath of near-disappointment release from his lips. A reaction to what he saw as an opportunity lost. Master Consign Linkraf was on the precipice of voicing what he felt needed to be said bluntly by Sanctuary. Not that he believed those who were within Sanctuary, or who followed it in earnest, didn’t understand where Sanctuary stood; it was always heavily implied. He only wished that those who were part of the referenced few — those of evil and destruction — were most unequivocally brought to awareness through an unequivocal declaration, that they were on the wrong side of Sanctuary. And through that, the wrong side of morality and justice. 

 

However, such confirmations would have to wait for another day, in perhaps another, more visible forum. Though such speculations would have to wait; his attention was taken from his internal thoughts to the moment, as he noticed Linkraf was approaching him and Jacinth with a broad, welcoming smile. 

 

He followed Jacinth’s lead as they stood to meet Linkraf, who offered his hand and forearm in greeting and spoke in a delighted inflection. 

 

“Dear Jacinth and Sena Valerius. It’s a pleasure to see you both. I’m so happy you could take time out of your schedule to see the progress of the community gardens. It’s only a couple weeks from completion. Though again, Jacinth, I truly wish you would formally attach your name to the project. I understand many of your donations are anonymous, as you wish to preserve a reserved public appearance. But in such cases, I believe many will wish to thank you personally for granting us such a beautiful place for people to use for both spiritual and secular reasons.” 

 

Hearing Linkraf speak, his mind began to push his brow into confusion: wondering why Linkraf was speaking as if he were in some movie, providing exposition for the audience. Yet his instincts were fighting his expression as it sunk. Telling him to remain neutral, if not pleasant. For it quickly occurred to him that this indeed was what Linkraf was doing. Providing exposition for the audience that was the Watchers. 

 

“And Sena Valerius,” Linkraf continued with an elated pitch. “I was further grateful when Jacinth said you were interested in donating your resources for the final expenses we have incurred. I know you’re not one to visit us often, but Jacinth assured me your experiences taught you the value of outdoor community spaces; hence why it piqued your interest.” 

 

“It’s my pleasure,” he offered with as much matching enthusiasm as he could bring without sounding artificial. 

 

“Wonderful! Now, while it’s still considered an active construction area that is off limits to the public, I have some equipment available so you can safely observe the site. Please join me this way,” Linkraf gestured as he continued the ruse resoundingly and asserted a boundary that the Watchers could not follow; allowing them privacy to discuss the true nature of the visit. 

 

• • •

 

Tane felt his breath finally catch as his extended commentary on what had taken place with Cartmel had been described in full. 

 

He looked at both Jacinth and Linkraf as they sat in silence, though each of their visages showed deep examination of what he had just relayed. 

 

As another deep breath was brought in, his eyes moved from Jacinth and Linkraf to his surroundings: the back courtyard of the Sanctuary grounds.

 

Linkraf, as he discovered, wasn’t dishonest describing their unfinished condition; they were expanding well beyond the Consign quarters and spilling over into the back and side lots that surrounded. Developing a community garden that, from his interpretation of the border fencing, was going to be accessible to anyone and wouldn’t require a visit to Sanctuary proper. 

 

With that, he wondered if there was truth behind Jacinth's financial contribution to the gardens, or if that was a ruse to detach them from the eyes and ears of the Watchers; one that would be plausible upon the inevitable reporting. As that thought came to mind, it struck him that Jacinth had been approaching everything with nearly all possibilities under scrutiny. And at this point, he would not have been surprised if Jacinth had created this project in order to provide a reason for his unusually-timed visits. A benefit to Jacinth’s innate philanthropy. 

 

Though, as he looked around the almost-completed garden — with its seasonal plants thriving to the point they had exploded well past their containers and boundaries, spilling out into the walkways and seating areas — he could see Jacinth’s influence. So many sitting areas that, surrounded by the foliage, provided concealment through natural screens. Not just from eyes; but even in the tucked away corner they were sitting, the plants, dense and multilayered, seemed to provide sound dampening, as it caused the insects and animals attracted to the garden to sound muted or off at a distance. 

 

But further consideration would have to wait; Jacinth released a vocal breath, as if announcing his thoughts had come to some conclusion, and he spoke. 

 

“I … I don’t know what to make of your interaction. I know this will sound strange, but I can’t imagine Cartmel lying to you. Inventing a language like that. That form of deceit would be seen as childish and beneath her; something she wouldn’t entertain.”

 

He nodded in agreement as his voice moved forward in an eager pitch. 

 

“I thought the same thing. If she wanted to tease and toy with me, she has ample ways of doing such with factual information. And I cannot shake how unsettling her comment was about how she enjoyed the implication of how poor people were like plants: needing water to grow and flourish. And her disdain for the poor is so complete, I can’t fathom her giving them anything but derision — even in jest. She called them scum only a couple minutes after.”

 

“Can you provide any insight?” Jacinth asked as he turned his attention to Linkraf. 

 

Linkraf, who appeared to still be in deep thought, took a moment to recognize the question that was addressed to him; he shook his head and offered a light apologetic smile as he replied. 

 

“Yes. My mind was still fully engaged. Nevertheless, you’re both aware of my academic career. And not to be vainglorious about those scholarly achievements, but I can say with a significant amount of certainty that I’ve been exposed to damn near every history currently available to the common us worldwide. ‘Common us,’ of course, excludes Watzeens, as we’re all aware of their active practice to hoard information until they deem we’re ready for it. That being said, with such historical familiarity, I cannot recall one time that I’ve come across anything related to a Basta language. And to illustrate my capacity — I flatter myself here — I’m acquainted with over 398 Hume languages that were active when the Couriers collected them. From that, it stands to reason that I would surmise Cartmel was indeed lying. However, my instincts are telling me to reject that conclusion. One, as I know my knowledge isn’t complete. And two, I’m in agreement with Jacinth. I don’t believe Cartmel would engage in such subterfuge. She’s capable of some heinous acts, but her ego doesn't allow her to make up a story. She believes she is far too intelligent for such nonsense. Even when she does fabricate something, it’s always for someone else's lips and actions to enact.” 

 

“You’re perfectly right,” Jacinth concurred. “I suppose it should be placed under consideration what the Aileuti side of my family believe. That she’s mentally ill. If by chance they are correct, this could be a reason for her behavior. But again, I cannot subscribe to the idea she was willfully lying. I would put forth she had actual knowledge that we’re not privy to. Though why she would wield it in such a way has me confounded. I …” 

 

“Hello? Anyone?” Raer’s voice called out as she was obviously looking for them. 

 

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” Linkraf noted in a low tone, before he stood from the benches and addressed Raer in his normal pitch. “We’re over here.” 

 

As Linkraf moved to allow the seat open so Raer could sit next to Jacinth, he looked at Jacinth, who was continuing his nod of agreement from Linkraf’s statement to continue their conversation later. It was something that, while he was desperate to figure out exactly what had happened, he too understood that without further context, anything they could deduce would be speculation only. It was a fact he would have to resign himself to: that at the present, questions would remain. 

 

But his attention was taken away by Raer, who made her way over to them. She quickly encouraged in a strained voice. 

 

“Please don’t stand. No need for formalities.” 

 

As Raer sat, he only got a glimpse of her face, one that immediately made his stomach sink as it was vivid upon her visage, she had been crying excessively. But the glimpse was just that, as Raer jumped into Jacinth's arms and hugged him with a vigor that continued to bring his stomach towards the floor. This wasn’t a friendly hug; this was a ‘something happened’ hug. 

 

His eye moved to Jacinth, whose expression was slowly moving from one of surprise to one of dread; it was apparent that the embrace from Jacinth’s point of view wasn’t their normal one. And he returned the hold with meeting energy.

 

As the moment lingered — in his mind — it implied with every passing second, the severity of what had transpired. Driving his pulse to increase, his skin to feel warm and antsy; bringing with it a rising sensation of being hemmed in. It made his neck and shoulders move by reflex as he attempted to calm his mind and body. Yet such concentrated efforts would have to wait; his attention was drawn towards Raer as she pulled from Jacinth’s grip, took his hands into hers to hold. And with a vocal breath that raised her shoulders and arms in almost a huff, she spoke in a steadfast tone. 

 

“I’m resolved to get through this with no more of my overly-sensitive nonsense. So let me start by saying I have news. More news. And an extended message to convey to you.” 

 

He looked at Jacinth, who visibly swallowed and nodded, saying nothing, but whose air was one of nervous anticipation. 

 

“First news: Amala messaged me and said she wouldn't be able to join as expected, as she was being followed by Watchers in abundance. Though she still needs to see you. She requested that after our huddle, she would like you to have a quote-unquote chance meeting at the Blue Pointe for a meal. She’s already secured a reservation.” 

 

“Of course, the Blue Pointe. Though I suspect I won’t have much of an appetite after this, will I?” Jacinth asked in a tone that reflected his expression of disquiet.

 

“I’m sorry to say you most likely won’t,” Raer confirmed as she offered a light smile of sympathy. “However, you’ll have so much on your mind, navigating all of this, you’ll need the protein to fuel your brain. Too, I have to give Amala serious credit; she chose the Blue Pointe because it’s so expensive she figured it would be far more difficult for Watchers to follow in, as they won’t have the means to patronize such a place.”

 

“That’s brilliant,” he amazed as he never would have considered that as a workaround. 

 

“Right?” Raer asked in a pitch of agreement as she turned her attention to him with wide eyes and a nodding head. 

 

But as Raer returned her attention to Jacinth, she continued on. 

 

“Though Amala admitted she couldn’t guarantee a Watcher wouldn’t be able to dine there, so she asked me to give you a summary of the main reason she wanted to speak with you — requesting you come up with clever similes so you could converse — as she discovered today that there was an investment to have her recalled.”

 

“How?” he asked in shock as he couldn’t imagine such. “She’s so popular; in a beyond well-liked way.” 

 

“And she’s cognizant of that,” Raer agreed as she explained. “The abridged version. She was asked, along with a mix of other lawmakers, to observe the final printing of the ballots as apparently there were some last-minute measures added that raised alarms and prompted them to inquire. When she was at the facility, one of the workers casually said to her they didn’t get enough signatures to add her recall to the ballot, so that wasn’t an issue if that’s why she was there. She was floored, as she knows very well how much she’s admired. She did some quick digging and found out Cartmel was busy this weekend. She said some of the ballot measures added were blatantly criminal, and more than a few of her colleagues were attempting to have the measures black-lined.”

 

His attention moved as Jacinth pulled his hands away from Raer’s and brought them up to his face and rubbed near his temples, while simultaneously releasing a groan of exacerbation. It was an emotion he could relate to as the news thus far had been the normal, and expected, absurd. But his thoughts had formed the marker that prevented him from relaxing. The ‘thus far’ was preventing him from releasing the tension that was surging through him and touching his temples as well. 

 

“I was prepared for that, as I’ve heard some rumors,” Jacinth admitted as he moved his hands from his face to his lap as he took a visible breath. “In that, I’d be very pleased if you and Linkraf could join Tane and I there.” 

 

“I happily accept your invitation,” Linkraf responded with a hint of excitement in his voice. “I haven’t had good seafood in far too long.” 

 

But as he turned his attention to Raer, a silence fell that took with it any ease that had been developing with the discussion of food. He watched as her eyes were cast down and her face began to move into a stress that he had never seen from her before. She forced an awkward smile and chuckle as she observed. 

 

“And I’d say what Attata graces you may have been given are expressing themselves here, as you’ve set me up for the perfect segue.”

 

“No Attata needed,” Jacinth injected. “I knew this was coming. Seeing your face stained as it was, I knew everything said so far was far too pedestrian to cause such a response. Please tell me.” 

 

Raer rubbed her lips together in worry as she nodded. Her eyes lifted to meet Jacinth’s as she spoke in a hushed tone. 

 

“My delay in coming out to meet you was because I had a call from …”

 

“Don’t say his name, Raer,” Linkraf interrupted with emphasis; though his voice took a milder inflection as he explained. “It’s far too dangerous to say his name out in the open, even if we do have listening-device-interrupters active. One good lip read and, given the present company, it won’t be handwaved away. He’ll know who you’re talking about.” 

 

Raer turned her head briefly to look at Linkraf and nodded in agreement. As she returned her eyes to Jacinth, she again forced a sympathetic smile around her anxiety and continued. 

 

“You’re perfectly right. Okay … I had a call from our trusted and most gifted Attata friend. He … he said you would know what I meant when I say the following. He said it’s happened. Whatever was supposed to happen that would set in motion the series of events to the ends that are coming — it’s happened.” 

 

He watched Jacinth's face move from one of worry to one of pure panic. He had no clue as to what was being said nor its contextual meaning. But that didn’t matter; Jacinth’s appearance sent his ears exploding with a ringing, as his honest expression couldn’t inspire anything less than his blood pressure spiking instantaneously. 

 

But before any questions could come forward, Raer continued. 

 

“He was very hard on himself, saying his graces were feckless. Wishing he could provide information on what exactly that event was. But he did want me to pass on several pieces of advice to you … directives in some cases.” 

 

“Go on, please,” Jacinth encouraged in a breathless voice. 

 

“He said it’s time to position yourself publicly. You cannot remain nebulous in your stances. They need to be active, if not aggressive. He said he knows this will incite pushback, perhaps even punishment, but it’s essential.” 

 

“Is that all he said?” Jacinth asked. 

 

“No,” Raer replied with a choke in her voice. “He said … and this is where I promised to quote him verbatim … control the information, you control the narrative. Facts versus reaction.”

 

“How does he expect me to accomplish this?” Jacinth questioned with a hint of frustration in his voice. It was a frustration that was easily read as more so a reaction to his current panic: teetering on lashing out.

 

It was something Raer recognized too as she offered an encouraging smile before she continued.

 

“You’re okay. You’ll be … all will be well. He anticipated your questions and said he recommends you plant a seed. A seed that will fruit information in abundance. He said you will know where to plant it as … as he put it, the soil is fertile. But he didn’t want to deceive you; planting this seed will not come without its dangers. For you, and the soil. He knows you’re too good of a man … he hoped you could find a way he couldn’t see to … again, as he put it, protect the soil from scorched terra.”

 

Jacinth let out a chortle that was less based on humor and more of a nervous expression that was holding back the flow of tears and terror as he joked in a cracked voice. 

 

“He really enjoys his gardening metaphors.”

 

Raer recognized the tone and body language as she raised her hand from her lap and offered it out towards Jacinth. 

 

It was an offer that Jacinth accepted quickly as he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him slightly, causing her to bend more at the waist in her sitting position. 

 

He felt his own desire for support at the moment, but not in the physical sense. He was beginning to feel he couldn’t breathe well. As if he had eaten far too much and his stomach was distended, pushing against his diaphragm. A breath that was becoming increasingly hard to take, as if centimeter by centimeter, he was pulling his knees into his chest, exacerbating his already-pressed diaphragm and stealing his air. He didn’t need a hand. He was in need of space at that moment. For even the outdoor setting of the garden was feeling cramped as the courtyard suddenly felt like it was shrinking; pushing the flowers and plants closer to his legs and arms and forcing the insects to fly around his head, causing him to wave his hand almost frantically to push them away. 

 

But his mind didn’t have an opportunity to calm and control what was happening as Raer continued in a deeply saddened note. 

 

“I have … another request was asked of not just you, but of me as well. It was strongly recommended that this be our last meeting for the time being.” 

 

“No!” Jacinth countered in a tearful tone as he brought Raer closer to him, pressing his forehead to hers with eyes squeezed tight, as if he were fighting his full responses. 

 

Raer took another visible breath as she pulled away from Jacinth briefly to place the gentlest of kisses on his forehead. As she returned her forehead to his, she released a light chuckle as she spoke. 

 

“My reaction was very similar. Though it was laced with profanity and idle threats.” 

 

He felt a little relief as Jacinth genuinely laughed, and his squinted eyes relaxed to ones of simply being closed as Raer continued. 

 

“Be assured, this is not goodbye. This is a temporary parting for the safety of many. It’s simply that ties have to appear to have thinned between us, so when inevitable events occur, I’m one of the last ones they look to for clues and answers. But remember, I’m only a heartbeat away if anything goes awry.”

 

“With this information, I believe the time has come to inform all Consigns to align their affairs, as we need to be prepared for the worst. We will need to be ready to protect our charges with our lives,” Linkraf uttered in a somber intonation. 

 

And with those words, his panic attack struck its apex; he jumped from his seat, and he spoke in a full-labored voice.

 

“I can’t … I have to get out of here … I can’t breathe!” 

 

He didn’t wait for a response or directions as he rushed away from the spot they were sitting and towards the fenceline of the garden, knowing there would be a break in it somewhere that would allow him to escape the ever closing space around him. And perhaps, on the other side, allow him to run away far and as fast as he could, permanently. 

 

• • •

 

Tane felt a light smile come to him as he approached the entrance to Hylatee Headquarters. The smile, a welcome one, was induced by seeing Jacinth, who was standing at the door, surrounded by reporters as they poured upon him question after question in what appeared to be an impromptu press conference. 

 

Jacinth — whose appearance was noticeably altered from what he could confidently ascertain was from the meeting several hours prior — still managed to present himself as spirited, articulate, and amiable, as his charm was on full display. 

 

As he approached closer, he paused his meandering and decided to listen in to what was being said as Jacinth responded to a series of questions. 

 

“I heard three different questions, so allow me to try to answer them all with the following. As you know, I’m viewed politically as a traditionalist. Someone who advocates for broad social safety nets for all. Someone who values and works to preserve capitalism while at the same time endorses the exercising of regulatory controls that guards against its exploitative negative impacts. Someone who believes in community. And someone who aligns themselves with the World Council on universal weapons control.”

 

Jacinth chuckled as he continued. 

 

“Did the response suffice for all the questions?” 

 

The answer did appear to suffice as another set of questions poured forward as the reporters raised their voices in hopes of having Jacinth’s attention drawn to them. 

 

One voice rose above the rest as a woman asked. 

 

“Are you, or anyone in Hylatee, concerned with reports coming out of Galu that the incident at Udo has become a catalyst for the country to take an inward turn and how capital flows are reorienting along political and geopolitical lines that are already resulting in scrips to drop almost ten percent in value in less than two weeks?”

 

Jacinth grinned slightly as his head cast to the side and down; looking as if he were not just considering the question, but amassing the courage to answer it in truth. 

 

As it seemed the pause was sufficient to gather his thoughts, along with his certainty, he took a visible breath, adjusted his position to a more assured posture as he responded. 

 

“While my words in the past have been received and veiled or vague, I believe it’s time to make myself clear on this matter. I have not, do not, and will not support scrips. If you are curious as to my reason; I will direct you to my statements prior to that — now context has been provided — will inform you on such.” 

 

As most of the journalists seemed to be stunned by Jacinth’s revelation, another journalist took advantage of the moment and quickly asked.

 

“But doesn’t that hurt Hylatee’s bottom line? How do you reconcile that?”

 

“I’m going to admit something controversial that I know is in direct opposition to the way that company is being run at current. Hylatee — and if I were to be forthright, the government that abets Hylatee’s erroneous practices — needs to be restructured. That is one of my goals. To see Hylatee returned to its foundation. One that celebrated competition and not the stagnation that comes with monopolies. One that understands the worker provides infinitely more direct value for businesses than most of the corporate leads. And one that measures its value on not only profits, but meaningful impact that ascends us all.”

 

With most of the journalists appearing to be further staggered, only one was able to formulate a question that provided shocking information of its own.

 

“Based on what you just said, your statement a moment ago about your agreement with the World Council on weapons control, and the clarification on your opposition to scrips; does that elude to your stance on this weekend's meeting between your mother and several high ranking Minu politicians, where it is rumored that she called for a push to end the ban on projectile weapons and for the government to award Hylatee with exclusive production rights paid solely with government-purchased scrips?”

 

This time, it was Jacinth’s turn to look shocked as his brow furrowed and he shook his head. He stumbled on his words as he responded. 

 

“I … no, I … My apologies. I was not present at any such meeting. Nor was I aware of the topics discussed. But no … I mean, yes. My statements are reflective of my position. If said rumors are true … I reject those propositions outright.” 

 

As Jacinth seemed to almost take a step to steady himself, his eyes wandered from the journalists and searched until they fell on him, imparting a smile of relief as he didn’t wait for any further questions to come forward as he quickly spoke. 

 

“And upon seeing a colleague with whom I need to converse; I give you my leave.” 

 

He felt another smile come to him as he returned to his pace, walking towards the main entrance, as Jacinth fell in next to him and commented in a lowered tone. 

 

“I’m very happy to see you. You caused me alarm when you sprinted off like that. So much so, I didn’t care if I looked the fool and got in contact with Sloan, who was more than kind to check in with you. Are you okay?” 

 

“I am,” he admitted as they entered the door and moved towards the internal elevators. “It was as you saw. I became overwhelmed. I had a panic attack. And I reacted in a manner I wouldn’t have chosen if given the chance, but still in a way that I know was fitting.” 

 

As they reached the elevators and paused to select their floor, Jacinth chuckled as he nodded in agreement. 

 

“Fitting indeed. Mother has requested us both to meet with her. If you’re still jolted by today’s events, I’m willing and eager to run interference; give you the opportunity to slip out for the day.” 

 

As the elevator doors opened, he and Jacinth stepped aside as many people exited. Upon entering, Jacinth stopped at the door and turned towards those who were looking to join them in the car and asked. 

 

“Would you all be kind enough to allow myself and Sena Valarius to ride the elevator alone so that we can discuss discrete business matters?” 

 

As the various people looked at one another, as if checking to see what others would say, a sheepish “yes” came forward that was followed by a “sure” accompanied by shrugs and nods that prompted Jacinth to thank them all enthusiastically. 

 

But as the door shut, and it was he and Jacinth alone, Jacinth quickly pulled out a cardkey that he scanned at the key-switch, allowing them to bypass any floor that had requested a stop. 

 

As they rose uninterrupted, he looked at Jacinth, who seemed to be waiting for a response to his earlier question. He released a deep breath that sounded more akin to a sigh as he spoke. 

 

“No. I meant what I have said many times, Jacinth. I’m here for you. Granted, I did need some time to digest everything; but I calmed myself quickly. And yes, your call to Sloan, which sent her calling me, did aid in my ability to make my way back here. But I was going to do so of my own accord eventually as you’re my best friend and I will stick by you through this. To whatever ends this brings, I will be by your side.” 

 

He watched as Jacinth’s face began to move into one of hopeful gratitude that seemed to also hint of tearful appreciation, as his eyes began to reflect. 

 

It was a moment that he felt he needed to lighten the mood as he spoke in a teasing inflection. 

 

“But I mean this when I say this. You get one. After all of this is done, I recuse myself from the duty of dealing with your garbage. You find another best friend for the next chapter of your minutia.”

 

A sincere happiness struck him acutely as Jacinth responded to his ribbing with laughter that was so intense, it caused his eyes to squint happily into crescent moons and his waist to bend as he doubled over with the humor. 

 

It was such a robust and prolonged laugh, it lasted well into the end of their elevator trip as they exited and walked down the hall towards the main boardroom. Too, it was so well received that it gave him a chuckle as he enjoyed seeing Jacinth so amused. 

 

As they came to the boardroom door, opened, and entered; he was dismayed to relinquish all his positive emotions by reflex, as Cartmel was the first person his eyes fell upon. Though it seemed her eyes were not on him, as she quickly commented on Jacinth's appearance as she spoke. 

 

“What are you smiling about? I don’t expect it’s you being pleased with how well you follow directives. I have been waiting over an hour for you to return.”

 

“I dare say you are lucky for me to return when I did.” 

 

As he began making his way to his assigned seat, he stopped as Jacinth continued. 

 

“There is no reason for conventions, Tane. I believe the duration our visit here will be of the standing variety.” 

 

He brought his hand up to his forehead and rubbed; he was actively trying to conceal his eyes as they had widened with the disbelief of him being openly malapert towards Cartmel. 

 

Upon gaining his composure and relaxing his face, he turned his attention to Cartmel, whose open mouth of disbelief was one that nearly sent his expressions in another direction. One of laughter. A response that was so pronounced, he had to clear his throat in order to maintain his countenance. 

 

“You sassy little shit,” Cartmel near-gasped as she spoke.

 

It was a reaction that pushed him to the limit of being able to hold himself together. He was simply too raw from the whole of the day and was susceptible to even the slightest stimulations. He quickly turned and walked towards the large base cabinet, looking for anything that would redirect his focus and, conceal the silent laughter that his face could not hide.

 

As he reached the cabinet, he continued to keep his back towards Cartmel and all those present as he slowly began to make himself a hot beverage. But such activities didn’t eschew him from the discussion as Cartmel continued in a questioning tone which revealed her growing anger. 

 

“You dare say? You’re a mood. One I don’t see often as it knows better than to show itself. But I don’t have time for this right now. I called you all here as with voting soon, I need that last push against the referendum on oversight for a manufacturing process to protect workers. I’ve instructed pamphlets to be made and it’s up to you to delegate those below you to get these to the workers. They need to be aware that it will cost more money to do such an unnecessary oversight, and that it will be absorbed by them. They need something tangible to look at; to influence them. Those idiots have short attention spans and that should be enough to turn them off of it.” 

 

“Except that’s not true,” Jacinth countered. “It will cost us 0.0001% of a Relit per unit. You will end up spending more fighting it than just letting it go through.”

 

“Don’t be naïve, Jacinth,” Cartmel shouted with irritation. “I’m well aware of what the costs are. And I’m willing to absorb any costs in fighting this personally, as this is about keeping the government in their place. I told them not to pursue this, and they went ahead and did. Not only will they experience a resounding defeat in this; it will only be the beginning of the punishments that will come from raising a word against me.”

 

“This is what you dragged me back for?” Jacinth asked with a chuckle. “You know perfectly well I will not help you in this endeavor."

 

He didn’t have to see Cartmel’s expression; he knew it had to be one of pure rage, as he could hear her breathe in short and sharp respirations. They came faster and faster before she let her anger out and shouted. 

 

“All of you except Jacinth, out! Once you’ve collected the papers and passed them down, I want you all out of these offices for the day. I mean it! I want you all out of the building as I have work to do, and I don’t want to be interfered with by all of your incompetence!”

 

As he poured the drink he had just made down into the sink of the cabinet, he placed his cup into the dirty collection bin and moved to excuse himself with the others. But before he could see himself out, Jacinth directed his voice towards him and spoke. 

 

“Tane, be so kind as to wait for me. This will only take a moment.” 

 

He released a breath and turned, leaning his back against the cabinet, and he pushed his eyes to the floor as he waited to see if Cartmel would contradict Jacinth’s ask of him. 

 

But as the last person out closed the door, Cartmel seemed more focused on Jacinth as she hissed at him in anger. 

 

“What is this nonsense about? Who do you think you’re talking to?” 

 

“We all have questions. Like mine when I asked why you insisted I return when you knew very well I would never assist in such. You are perfectly right. I am a mood. One that is not feeling generous enough to even feign to entertain your whims.” 

 

He looked out of the corner of his eyes and towards Cartmel, who made her way to the front of the meeting table and slammed her case on it as she opened it; she began to collect the papers strewn across the desk in a forceful and exaggerated manner to help illustrate her anger. 

 

“I dragged you back as I heard you were seen out socializing with that politician Amala. I don’t like her.” 

 

“Shocker,” Jacinth replied with sarcasm. “Is that why you attempted to have her recalled?” 

 

“Is that why you met with her today?” Carmel asked with an astonished chuckle. “Did she come crying to you because your mother was mean to her? And that proves my point why she has no business being in politics. Along with stubbornness. She thinks herself above the fray.” 

 

“Meaning she does not engage in your games. And that erodes your sense of control,” Jacinth pointed out with a chuckle of his own.

 

It was one that prompted Cartmel to slam her case against the table in anger as she seemed to have allowed Jacinth’s word to get under her skin. Though as her vocal breath began to calm, and her voice returned to one of factual impassivity, she clarified.

 

“I don’t know what you spoke about, only that you were both seen entering Blue Pointe. I will never understand you. Such excellent taste in restaurants. It eludes me why you don’t associate with your peers — people of wealth.” 

 

“She is wealthy,” Jacinth responded in a matter-of-fact tone. 

 

“Her husband is wealthy; she is not. And what money they have is not on your level. Why can’t you form associations with those?”

 

Jacinth released a breath that seemed to be both tired and confused, as he paused before he responded in a curious pitch.

 

“Honestly? Because most of my peers, within my wealth bracket, are not capable of forming meaningful and genuine friendships. They are only proficient in being co-spenders. If I lost all this tomorrow, they would be gone.” 

 

But as no retort came forward, he turned his head and watched as Cartmel’s expression moved from irritation to one that could only be described as glazed over. And while he could imagine that her visage was a part of an unkind response to Jacinth being sincere, as he studied, he realized her face falling dull wasn’t due to disinterest; it was due to the same phenomenon that had happened earlier that day. However, this time it was even more pronounced as he spoke Jacinth’s name to garner his attention and to note what she was doing. 

 

“Jacinth. This is what I was talking about.” 

 

“Mother?” Jacinth asked in a questioning voice that aired concern.

 

It was one that went without response; Cartmel seemed to have forgotten they were there as she mumbled softly to herself, gathered her remaining items, and left through her private office without a word.