Book 1 — Chapter 35

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Day: Hyndinga

Date: 24

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Melchior

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Porter tried to push a smile forward. However, as he did, he knew his face was contorting into one that was more reminiscent of a grimace. An expression that was that was easily read, as Naira sighed and addressed candidly. 

 

“I know it’s really early. And I know you don’t like talking to me.” 

 

“No. It’s not you,” he assured her, hoping his explanation would assuage her disquietude. “Hear my words and my thoughts when I say this. It isn’t you personally that I don’t like talking to. I’m just not comfortable around children. I don’t dislike them; I’m just not good with them.”

 

“You’re afraid of us,” Naira observed with a slight grin. 

 

“I don’t know about afraid,” he asserted. 

 

It was a claim he knew would be scrutinized under Naira’s graces as she paused to read him. He again tried to push forward a smile, but with this attempt, he could feel it was even less convincing — her head tilted to the side and her expression hinted a flick of anger as her little brow furrowed. 

 

Yet, as soon as the anger flashed across her face, it was quickly followed by a grin and a soft giggle that illustrated she found the confirmation she was looking for. 

 

“You are afraid of kids. You worry you’re going to do something wrong and make us cry. And you can’t stand hearing a kid cry. It upsets you and you don’t like anyone being upset.”

 

He moved his eyes forward, over Naira’s head, to avoid eye contact. It wasn’t a truth he was ashamed of; because who in their right mind would enjoy hearing anyone cry out of sadness? But the connected inability to associate with children because of said fear was a fault he wasn’t keen on admitting.

 

As he released a vocal breath, he returned his attention to Naira; her eyes were wide and her head was again tilted to the side, apparently waiting for his thoughts to complete as with his returned gaze, she smiled again and spoke earnestly. 

 

“I don’t want you to feel icky. So I promise I will only talk to you when it’s really important.”

 

“I appreciate you being mindful towards my silliness,” he responded with sincere gratitude for her respect towards his characteristics. “Is it really important now?” 

 

“Very important,” she responded with an unsmiling nod and an expression changed to one of earnestness. “I had a dream last night. It was about Raer. It was really, really bad. But it can change if Tristus is here. But he’s not here and I don’t know where he is. I see him, but I don’t know where I’m seeing him. And I don’t want anything happening to Raer. I love Raer. And … I will never see Gareth again if it happens. Gareth is my best friend. I keep trying to find …”

 

As Naira continued to speak her mind in a less than linear fashion, he brought into himself a deep breath as he felt his stomach turn. Initially, because his fear was manifesting in that the more Naira spoke, the more her face began to fall and her voice cracked, as if she were about to cry. But additionally because he was aware of Raer’s life outside of being a Consign. Outside of Idemere. And even if that life was but a fraction of her existence, it was one that, with each pilgrimage, left a lasting effect that one could not help but grieve for her. 

 

However, as he didn’t want Naira to read his mind, and upset her further, he pushed the thoughts aside and took a moment to read Naira in return, to gather what details he could. Details that might help Raer in his own way — not relying on this other person Naira had mentioned. But as Naira had finished her stream of consciousness and only a few related reasons were brought to his attention, he nodded in understanding and asked in a clear and attentive tone.  

 

“Okay. It’s okay, Naira. What do you need me to do?” 

 

“Will you tell Wayra to ask Salahori where Tristus is?” she asked in a pleading voice. “I …” 

 

Suddenly, her words halted as she looked towards the door of the commons room. Then, with a sudden burst, she ran out the door, into the hall, and away from him. 

 

His confusion was immediate, but short-lived as, with his eyes still on the door that Naira had departed through, Wayra suddenly appeared. Looking at him and then back down the hall that Naira had just run through. He felt the grin and chuckle come to him as Wayra entered the commons room and observed. 

 

“I don’t have to grace that she was up to something. Her tearing through here without a look or a word is evidence enough.” 

 

“She and I were having a small confab,” he explained as Wayra came to the table and sat down with him. 

 

“It must be something serious. Because she was talking to you about it and you were engaging in return,” Wayra recognized, knowing his disposition towards children. “Was this something you can share with me? Or something you’re going to tell me anyway, and I’m going to pretend I don’t know.”

 

“Actually,” he responded with a smack of his lips, preparing for the conversation. “She asked me to talk to you directly.” 

 

“You?” Wayra asked in surprise. But as the idea sank in that if Naira had asked him, it must have been something of a serious nature, Wayra’s face fell to one of dread and worry as he commented with a groan. “Shit. This is going to suck because I already know, without gracing, I’m going to have to say no and she’s going to be mad at me.” 

 

“You’re not wrong. But it’s interesting,” he noted as he adjusted in his seat to lean closer to Wayra so he could speak in a lower tone. “When I read what I could of Naira, I saw a reasoning. Why she came to me. She seemed to believe she could have asked Ash, and Ash would have happily approached you about this. But she knew it would cause a fight; she didn’t want to do that to you. So you have to give Naira credit there. She was taking you into consideration, no matter how much she’s going to be mad at you.” 

 

“Shit,” Wayra groaned again. “Now I’m going to feel twice as bad, aren’t I?” 

 

“Maybe three or four times as bad, given the topic,” he suggested in an attempt to lighten the mood. But as he gathered himself, he returned his voice to its low tone as he continued. “She asked me to encourage you to talk to Salahori about a man named Tristus. Apparently in relation to something that may eventualize with Raer.” 

 

“Oh, dear Deo,” Wayra uttered with a whine to his voice. “I don’t know how to handle this. How to explain what she saw.” 

 

“Wait, don’t panic,” he encouraged Wayra as he lifted his hands and gestured to hold. “When I read her, she didn’t seem to know what was going to happen, only the results thereof. And …” 

 

He paused a moment as a realization came to, causing his own voice to crack as he asked. 

 

“By your response, it occurs to me your sights showed something as well.” 

 

He looked at Wayra, whose face went from mild relief that he wouldn’t have to explain something traumatic to Naira, back to a solemn expression as he nodded and confirmed. 

 

“I did. And Salahori is also aware of what might transpire. We’ve already talked about it. As for what Naira also saw, the man named Tristus … that’s another complicated matter. I don’t know where he is, when he will come, or even how he will come. Salahori, on the other hand, does. Well, does know where he is at least, and how he will come. But I’ve declined the information from him. I think it’s best not to tempt myself with rushing the future.”

 

He let out a breath as he rolled his eyes by reflex based on Wayra’s words and approach to the information he graced. It was a reaction that Wayra noted as he raised his eyebrows and grinned as he asked with a chortle. 

 

“You disagree?”

 

“Always,” he admitted. “I just don’t understand your morals about this. It’s aggravating to watch someone so damn gifted be stingy on acting on those gifts. I won’t lecture you on what I think and feel. I will simply sum it up by saying I’m firmly aligned with Quidel on this.” 

 

“Quidel,” Wayra breathed out with a grumble. “Someone else who’s in a perpetual state of anger with me. But that aside, the only thing I can offer you is what I’ve always offered, and that is to trust me. I will not misrepresent the situation and hand wave away what Naira has graced. But I am going to use what I do know, what I have seen, and what Salahori has seen … and I’m going to ask your help as well … to encourage Raer to do the one thing she fails to do on the regular.” 

 

“And what’s that?” he asked, though he was fairly certain what Wayra was going to advise. 

 

“For her to fight for herself as hard as she fights for us.” 

 

• • •

 

“Uuuggghhh,” Matu bellowed with prolonged frustration. “Don’t start with me, Akiva. You’re being pedantic just to set me off.” 

 

Porter felt his eyes move toward the ceiling as he let his breath out with a sound of vexation. An emotion that was driven by the fact that Matu and Akiva had been arguing for a while now, taking it from room to room, exposing everyone to the squabble against their will. And while most everyone was impassive and quiet, his own indifference was waning — prompting him to let out another breath of vocal exasperation. Unfortunately, it was one that went without attention; Akiva turned toward Matu, placed her hand on her hip with exaggeration, and scoffed as she spoke. 

 

“You give yourself far too much credit, as if my argument is centered around only pissing you off. It’s a fringe benefit, I’ll admit that. But I’m speaking from a sincere perspective. I will grant that if you provide information in good faith, and it turns out to be a mistake, that is one thing — and it should be regarded as such, as we all make mistakes based on what is available to us at the time. But if you engage in hyperbole as some sort of vehicle to make a point, then I lose respect thereafter. Because if you have to exaggerate in order to win an argument, then you actively know your argument isn’t strong. It sticks with me, and I can’t help but take anything said thereafter with a great deal of skepticism. You become an unreliable narrative.”

 

He felt his eyebrows raise as he considered Akiva’s words. Ones that he honestly couldn’t find fault with. Merit to be given to her point of view. But it was not one that was shared by Matu, who snubbed Akiva’s thoughts with a glaring expression and a forceful voice. 

 

“Oh, come off it! We all engage in hyperbole  …”

 

“Of course most people do!” Akiva interrupted with a shout. “Much of language revolves around exaggeration for the purpose of conveying an exclamation point in casual communication. And that is the key parameter there: casual communication. I understand this because I can exercise logic of subject. But if you’re trying to present something in what is supposed to be intellectually honest communication, and you use hyperbolic statements as an objective fact, you’re disreputable at best, a liar at worst.” 

 

“So you’re calling me a liar?” Matu asked with a glower to his voice and expression. 

 

“I’m not calling you anything. I’m saying that if you have to exaggerate to prove a point, then your point must not be strong enough to stand on its own merits. Further, I’m using the proverbial ‘you’re.’ I don’t do passive aggressive. If you think anything I just said applies directly to you, consider that your subconscious is trying to tell you something,” Akiva responded in a heightened voice, indicating she was frustrated with the conversation. 

 

“Oh, of course not,” Matu spoke in a sarcastic tone. “Akiva doesn’t do passive aggressive; she does aggressive. She also does spiteful, arrogant, pompous, patronizing, insufferable, and fickle.” 

 

He felt his shoulders slide down in dread; he knew Matu was redirecting the argument with an animosity that was certainly more of a projection of their waning intimate connection than of the topic at hand. However, inference or not, Matu’s words had apparently stung Akiva, as her brow was furrowed deep and her mouth pursed in anger. With a visible huff, Akiva threw her hand forward, palm side up, and wiggled her fingers as she spoke in an acrid tone. 

 

“Yeah. Give it to me.” 

 

“Give what to you?” Matu asked with agitation. 

 

“Your identification card. Because I’m going to need that to find out who the fuck you think you are, talking to me like that!” Akiva yelled with intensity. “How dare you! I will rip your eyes out and shove them up your ass so you can watch me kick it.”  

 

“Okay, enough,” he called out in his own elevated voice, though a chuckle accompanied it, as Akiva’s demand struck him humorously. It was a response he tried to push aside as he continued in a measured tone. “Deo dammit, you two! You’re both giving me a headache. Figure out how to process your non-breakup-breakup without screeching unpleasantly in front of the rest of us. I’m serious. Separate playpens: both of you.”

 

“Why are you even here?” Akiva asked with a holler as she fell to the chaise chair with a thud. 

 

“Because I live in a four-by-five-meter living space that leaves a lot to be desired when you’re organizing information to be processed for a speech. Plus, the word is out that HEAGEN will be doing their daily terror-tour in my borough. I don’t have many places to hide my papers. Nor do I have the relits to pay HEAGEN not to take anything of value to me.”

 

He watched as Akiva rolled her eyes and leaned back on the chaise with a huff. A reaction that was equally met by Matu, who fell to the settee with his own huff and thud, ending the argument for the time as Matu observed. 

 

“You civil security people really screwed us with the whole HEAGEN thing, didn’t you?” 

 

“We didn’t screw anyone,” he voiced in a tone that was illustrating the sting of anger that struck his mind with Matu’s words. “We, as in civil security and the public, were set up.” 

 

“Not this shit again,” Matu groaned as his eyes visibly rolled. 

 

He felt his nostrils flare as he inhaled sharply. Feeling the sting of anger becoming a burn that was spreading to his temples and eyes. It was an internal response he couldn’t refute, especially when Matu was, again, attempting to invalidate his own experiences. Ones that had far sweeping consequences that, even now — from his proverbial cheap seats — would pain him. 

 

But before he could unleash his tongue in what he knew would be an unrestrained manner, Raer, who was sitting on the larger couch with Miles, quickly reproached Matu with a scolding pitch as she spoke. 

 

“Matu. No. Please, don’t do this again. Where you circumvent your emotions by foisting them onto another person and situation. Porter has always been honest and insightful …” 

 

“And how about you don’t do this shit again, either,” Matu interrupted with a raised voice. “I’m well past tired of your Consign lectures and his conspiracy excuses …”

 

“That’s enough!” Wayra bellowed, illustrating his own rising anger. “Matu, you know damn well Porter’s being wholly accurate. It’s a machination as old as time; create a problem so you can sell the solution. The powers-that-be created the problem of an undisciplined and reviled civil security and sold us the solution in HEAGEN. And now the privatized solution is a tyrannical force that haunts anyone who lives below the upper class line. Part of what we’re fighting against. I want this discrediting nonsense to end. At the very least, don’t bring it under my roof. Is that understood?”

 

He looked toward Matu, who threw his hands up and gestured in a conceding manner and nodded. Though Matu didn’t have an opportunity to respond, as Wayra continued with a pitch that was softer, but still firm as he spoke. 

 

“Further, I wish you would take up Raer’s offer to work through …” 

 

“I don’t want to talk to any Consign about squat,” Matu interrupted. “I don’t need to hear about the postulation of the soiled soul and how I’m eternally damned.” 

 

“You’re not eternally damned, Matu,” Raer injected with a softened and empathetic tone. “You’re misinterpreting the premise of the concept. However, you don’t have to speak to me as a Consign, you can just speak to me as I am. Raer. And while yes, I still come with the Consign scaffolding, I’m capable of advising from a nonobservant point of view.”

 

“I don’t need any advice,” Matu responded with a huff. But as he directed his attention to Wayra, Raer, and Akiva; he continued. “What part of my disposition don’t you get? I don’t have the notions you all have. I don’t want to save the world, to earn accomplishments, or fight anymore than I have to. I want a life that’s just good enough. To be healthy enough to outrun danger. To be smart enough to not get scammed. To have enough resources to eat what and when I want and hopefully someday get out of the shithole that is my shared flat. To be comfortable and mildly entertained. To fix my soiled soul in my own way. To contribute enough to ensure my survival.”

 

As Matu stood, his voice raised slightly as he addressed Akiva directly. 

 

“Finally, I want a companion that’s okay with me just being okay.” 

 

He felt his breath of tension move out as Matu turned and left the room, as his anger had moved to one of lenity with Matu’s candid expression. But as Akiva sprung from her seat and went after Matu, his mind couldn’t grace why she was following. If it was for reconciliation. Or if it was for affirming the end of their fading relationship. Whatever it was, said knowledge to such would have to be learned at another time, as Miles let out a vocal breath and spoke with a bit of a chuckle. 

 

“I’m feeling like a lot of what Matu just said may not have been relevant to the current conversation.”

 

“You’re perfectly right,” Wayra confirmed. “Matu just used the environment as a vehicle to have his say towards Akiva. We might be looking at a difficult next couple months with them ending this.” 

 

“I don’t know, Wayra,” Raer questioned. “Do you really think this is over-over? Matu, at the end of the day, is so good for Akiva. Him wanting to … just be, is a perfect noise free refuge for Akiva’s loud life. Don’t you think she’ll see that and they’ll make amends?” 

 

“Maybe someday, they will. But it won’t be today or anytime soon. Sorry to say,” Wayra responded with a tone of gentle sympathy. But as he took a deep breath and turned his attention to him, he released the breath vocally and encouraged as he spoke. “Well, Porter, you should be able to do your work now with little distraction.” 

 

He let his own breath of relief move forward as he was eager to get back to work. But before he could verbally respond, Raer asked in a reserved voice. 

 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a little help in organizing your information? I’m pretty good at outlines and topic transitions.” 

 

“I might take you up on that,” he admitted with a smile of appreciation. “But for now, I can manage.” 

 

• • •

 

“Damn!” Ash exclaimed. “Forty-three hit fifty like he was the ref’s kid. That was wild.” 

 

He felt the laugh come out with appreciation for Ash’s observation and comment towards the play. It was one that was shared, as everyone laughed at the remark. 

 

He glanced over from his position, lying on the settee, to the larger couch, where Wayra, Ash, and Raer were sitting — letting Miles to sit on the floor in front of them. They had settled into this a short time ago; as with Ash’s return to Nokahme, and her subsequent enthusiasm in seeing Raer, he knew the noise level would increase for a time, distracting him. Though Wayra had offered him free reign to use any of the rooms on the third floor, relatively free from disruption, he declined. He was feeling unusually social that day — wanting to engage with everyone that led to them watching the diakab match together.

 

But just as he returned his attention to the match, the sound of a vocal sigh filled the room and prompted Wayra to turn off the television; Akiva entered and sat to the chaise with a slow and gentle settle. 

 

He felt the sympathetic expression strike him by reflex, as Akiva’s appearance was one of considerable gloom. It garnered not only his empathy, but also his surprise, as it was an emotion that Akiva didn’t exhibit often. Which was not only the reason it induced his confusion, as he wasn’t clear on why Akiva would be feeling such, given she never seemed to be particularly attached to Matu. She had already made it known to most that she had her eyes on Miles. 

 

However, whatever the cause for her current mien, it was making him uncomfortable seeing her as such, and he was determined to alleviate his friend’s rue. He felt the grin pull at the corners of his mouth as he asked in a jesting tone. 

 

“Has the dark deed been done?” 

 

He felt a relief wash over him; Akiva’s face lightened with a chortle as she responded. 

 

“It has. But I flatter myself, and wish to point out how fabled I was by letting him do the sundering. He might not be too into his ego, but he’s not devoid of it. And so I allowed him to have this one and break it off with me. It’ll be good for him … having that confidence of control and sense of self. He’ll need that, as rebounding from me won’t be easy, as I’m near-impossible to replace.” 

 

He felt his eyes roll and his voice groan by reflex as he commented. 

 

“Oh, Dear Deo … speaking of ego. And yes, you do flatter yourself. Excessively.” 

 

The laugh struck Akiva almost as fast as it struck him as he knew the best way to approach her — and anything she was feeling — was with teasing and jeer. It was a rib that was met with equal laughter as everyone found his gripe humorous. 

 

But as the laughs subsided, a more serious tone of concern emerged from Raer, who asked. 

 

“And you’re really fine with this?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Akiva responded with a wave of her hand. “I’m wholly on register with it all. It might seem all perfunctory on my part, but there were some hard motivations behind this. Plus, we both left the door open. I told him to go work on his soiled soul and maybe we’d catch up later.” 

 

He felt his brow furrow; the phrase had puzzled him when it had been spoken earlier. It was one that seemed to have a basis in Sanctuary; which prompted him to turn his attention to Raer as he asked. 

 

“Okay, Raer. What’s this whole soiled soul thing about?” 

 

He watched as Raer adjusted herself to attention and to face him more directly. She offered a soft smile and brought in a visible breath as she responded. 

 

“I know you’re not familiarized with many aspects of Sanctuary, so let me preface my explanation by saying this. One of the more important tenets of how we approach the questions of Deo, the Universe, and our place within it, is by having fewer answers and allowing more questions. One such question was proposed by my … just utterly amazing mentor, Master Consign Linkraf. He’s lived such a beautifully rich life, with hundreds of quarturns of experience and education to inform his mind. He’s one of those people that you thank Deo for living in the same timeframe as him … having the honor of seeing his mind work in your lifetime.” 

 

He couldn’t help but smile as Raer paused and shook her head with almost wonder. Expressing a visage that was one of bright admiration as she rhapsodized for her mentor. But it was a brief pause, as she again shook her head and continued. 

 

“I’m digressing some, sorry. To your question. My mentor, Master Consign Linkraf … he postulated that Deo, an entity who created the Universe and the beings within it, exhibited his creation through many paths of logic — all observed through the laws and consistency of known science. Understanding this, he applied a sort of … transitive property … that presented Deo as a logical entity. And let me be clear, that doesn’t mean bereft of feeling or emotion. Quite the opposite; as in some cases, emotion is the prerequisite to applying logic. They’re inextricable. Are you following so far?”

 

“Fully,” he assured. “Continue on.” 

 

“Okay,” Raer nodded with an increased smile as she acknowledged and proceeded. “This reasoning of Deo brought to the forefront something that had been of query to him … that the premise of a rewarded or punished afterlife granted by Deo doesn’t make logical sense.”

 

“Because it doesn’t!” Akiva exclaimed with vigor. “That would be like me, I don’t know, making a meal I wanted and throwing half of it out because I didn’t like how I made it.” 

 

“That’s one analogous way to put it,” Raer admitted with a chuckle. “And of course, it becomes more complicated with us beings when you consider the premises of free will and rights in life. But for Master Consign Linkraf, it simply didn’t make sense for a variety of reasons. He began to do research in everything from historical contexts to scientific ones. As an example, interviewing people who’ve had near-death experiences. Even one who was clinically dead for over a half-hour. Through all of this, he came to a postulation that it wasn’t Deo who punished or rewarded us. It was ourselves. We … the individual … we self-impose the punishment upon ourselves based on the life we lead. I mean, we know how some of the sillier things in life stay with us. The near-universal experience of how our drifting to sleep is interrupted by something we said or did nearly ten quarturns ago that still stings. But …”

 

He felt his mind shift to one of seriousness; Raer paused, and her face turned down to a sedate reflection before she continued in a more solemn tone. 

 

“This is what the soiled soul is. No matter how much we justify our actions in our lives … no matter how narcissistic or sociopathic a person is … when we are in sight of the grave and pass over, we are stripped of the filters that lessen or even excuse the wrongs we have done. Master Consign Linkraf saw this in many of the extreme near-death-experienced individuals. Where they were stuck by their own malice, and in that, were embarrassed and ashamed to the point of fear. To the point, they recalled having the urge to flee under the guilt they felt. Additionally, from a historical point of view, there are many ancient texts that are thematic of such. Upon study, you begin to see an emergence of parallel thought that cannot be denied. Not just cross-cultural, but cross-species, as even an ancient Hume sacred text, individuals, when they have committed a wrong, actively flee from their version of Deo out of fear. It’s something we can’t escape. Being faced with who we are and what we have done in our lives … no matter how much we justify it. Deo doesn’t punish us by turning us away … we punish ourselves by running away from Deo out of shame.” 

 

He felt his stomach turn slightly as his questions moved forward with a bit of a scoff. 

 

“Yeah, we’ve all heard of the whole life flashing before our eyes as we pass. And I’ve even read about people who’ve claimed to have near-death experiences and seeing some pretty cold and scary imagery beyond, which changed their lives after. But … okay … I’m going to take this personally and point out that I’ve had to take a life as a civil security person. To protect an innocent. To save a life. But according to Linkraf, no matter how much I justify my actions in my daily life, once I cross over, those justifications won’t matter and I’ll be damned through self-infliction?” 

 

He again felt his stomach turn, as Raer offered a sympathetic smile and asked in a very soft voice. 

 

“May I ask a very personal question?” 

 

“Ask away,” he responded in a determined voice, as he was eager to understand the premise of which Raer was explaining in its whole. 

 

“The lives you have taken … even when nearly everyone could agree you took the objectively correct action … it still hurt, didn’t it?”

 

He sat up from his lying position and turned to face Raer. He studied her face as she expressed nothing in the way of judgement or pride. Only compassion. He felt the urge to read her, to see if her internal monologue was betraying her visage, and she was putting him in a gotcha moment. But as his graces reached out, he only had to see for a split-second that her facial impression was honest with her thoughts. He let out a breath as he responded resolutely. 

 

“It did. It does. I think for anyone sane, it will always be a burden to carry.” 

 

He paused, as even the acknowledgment of her question took him back to thoughts and experiences he had pushed far into the darker recesses of his mind. Places he actively avoided treading. He again pushed those thoughts away and returned to the moment as he asked with a chortle. 

 

“So, I guess we’re all doomed to damnation, then?” 

 

“No,” Raer responded with a shake of her head and a light smile. “You’re forgetting the flip side of that coin. The good we do. Just as we are faced with an unfiltered view of the wrongs we’ve done, we’re also presented with the unfiltered view of the good we’ve done. No needless modesty and self-effacement. We’re shown the light, beauty, and love we’ve brought to life, how we have uplifted others. One of Master Consign Linkraf’s greatest takeaways from his studies was that while we can never reconcile the wrongs we have done, the good things we do, in earnest, are far more important for the soul. His interviews were extensive. Meeting with people who were, like you, civil security, who had to make hard decisions. They experienced that gasp of regret for those hard decisions. But moreso, they were overjoyed with the good they had done. And let it be pointed out that it doesn’t mean we can indulge in our more intrusive thoughts at will, thinking we can cynically be kind and generous and believe such will cancel out. Cannot emphasise the filter aspect of it enough. We can’t cheat our way through this. It all comes out in the end.” 

 

He felt a smile of relief touch the side of his mouth as he looked to the floor and nodded. As he returned his attention to Raer, he offered his thoughts with a chuckle. 

 

“While I’m not going to subscribe to your newsletter after this, I just don’t do Sanctuary, I will admit that Linkraf might be onto something here. I respect that. Makes me feel like even someone like me has hope.” 

 

Raer let out a full-body laugh that turned his mouth further into the smile that was emerging. But as she shook her head and calmed the laugh with a happy sigh, she spoke with a pitch of encouragement. 

 

“No, indeed. Hope is the default for someone like you. For everyone sitting here. Plus, as I’ve said, this is just a postulation by Master Consign Linkraf. One can cite some hard evidence that this is the natural progression of the soul, how it travels from one form of matter to another … and further cite reason and philosophical practice … but as Sanctuary tries its best to remain dogma-free, we can’t adopt these thoughts as doctrine. We can only use them as considerations towards how we live our daily lives.”

 

“In short,” Akiva pronounced with a chuckle, “just be a good person and you’ll be fine.” 

 

“Well, most people aren’t content with just doing something, good or bad, without sense. I confess, I’m one of them. These conceptions are needed to help people put a tangible meaning on our actions,” Raer put forth with a pitch of deliberation.

 

“Oh yeah, I forget it’s just too hard to ask all-y’all non-Watzeen to simply not be an asshole,” Akiva commented with a roll of her eyes. 

 

As everyone began to laugh, his mind was divided between the humor of Akiva’s words, and the deeper context of Raer’s. The concept of which Linkraf had presented was something that made sense. Though he was confident he could practice without the threat of some divine punishment or reward hanging over him. He didn’t need such. He was beholden only to himself and what his heart and mind told him what was right and just. These internal narratives that guided him did align with Sanctuary’s Twenty-Two Pillars, he had to concede. But there was a reason the Twenty-Two Pillars were labeled as “common-sense morality” — they could be impassionedly practiced without the prerequisite of being devout. 

 

But before his thoughts could continue on the subject at hand, his attention was brought back to the moment as Miles, who let out the last chuckle with a reflective sigh, turned toward Akiva and asked. 

 

“So … because as you will come to find with time, I’m admittedly nosey as all get-out. And now my interest is piqued, as while Matu is definitely an asshole, he doesn’t strike me as someone who would have that much of a soiled soul. What’s his story?” 

 

Akiva bent at the waist and leaned closer towards Miles as she began to speak in a hushed tone. 

 

“Since he’s downstairs fixing the burner, I’m going to be …”

 

“No, you’re not,” Wayra interrupted Akiva with a firm emphasis. “It’s not yours to tell.” 

 

He watched as Akiva turned her attention to Wayra as she sat up straight and narrowed her eyes with obvious displeasure at his comment. She inhaled sharply as she spoke. 

 

“No. First off, it is mine to tell. He told me and I asked him if it was in confidence. He hand-waved away the question with a ‘I don’t care what you do.’ Second, you will not impose your stupid-ass conventions on me. Just because you have a theory about what and when things should be known, based on your graces, doesn’t mean you have any right to censor me. You can ask me not to share, but don’t you dare order me not to.” 

 

“Fair enough,” Wayra admitted with a gesture of calm with his hand. “You’re right. I should ask you. So that is what I’m doing. Asking you not to share this, as it’s deeply private and has some future bearings.” 

 

He felt the grin pull at the side of his mouth, as he knew what Akiva’s response would be instantly without the need to grace her thoughts. 

 

“Thank you for asking. But no,” Akiva responded with an inflection of defiance. “I’m choosing to share this. Your graces be damned. They will just have to deal with a changing future.” 

 

He looked over at Wayra who threw his head back, pointing his eyes to the ceiling, as he released a long and loud groan of frustration. But it was a response that went unnoticed by Akiva, who again lowered her voice as she spoke. 

 

“Seriously, strap yourselves in, as this is some considerable nightmare fuel. The soiled soul is not because of something he did; he imparted that one himself because of something he didn’t do. Abridged version of the events: He was working at a residential house on some plumbing, in the basement level, when some HEAGENs showed up, apparently looking for the woman who owned the house. The woman was there with her partner and their two kids. There was an argument, and the HEAGENs killed all four of them. I’m not even going to tell you in what order and the details of how it transpired, as this is already vomit-inducing. But it all happened right above his head and he heard every detail. He completely froze; didn’t know what to do. Logically, he knew if he tried to stop them, he would have been killed, too. And it’s not like he could call anyone to help, given it was HEAGENs committing the murders. So he hid and just waited till the HEAGENs left to make his own escape. I hate to use this word, given the context, but it was lucky for him they didn’t know he was there two-fold. One, they didn’t kill him, and two, they didn’t try to pin the murders on him. It was officially deemed a robbery gone bad by an unknown assailant. But as you can imagine, it turned him inside out. He has a ridiculous amount of guilt over what he thinks he failed to do. And yes, before anyone asks, everyone who knows has advised him otherwise. But yeah, that’s what he views as his soiled soul. Ironically enough, Raer, I think that is why he helps us here and with Idemere. Trying to scrub his soul clean by doing good; just on the low-key level. I don’t know, he might have read Linkraf’s papers on the subject.”

 

“Deo dammit. What monsters they can be,” Ash whispered in a horrified tone.

 

He looked at Ash as Wayra brought her under his arm and held her. It was a moment of comfort he imagined that not only was brought on by the relaying of the events that happened to Matu, but that they were not far different from what Ash had experienced firsthand earlier that month. As Raer took Ash’s free hand into hers, Raer pushed away a thick tear that was moving down her cheek toward her chin and brought in an audibly shaking breath — one of attempted calm. 

 

For him, it was an event that he was already familiar with. One shared to him via Akiva sometime back. But each revisit brought the same bile to the back of his throat. The same flame of anger to his mind. And the same determination to see this all end in his lifetime.

 

• • •

 

“And I think I’m done,” he announced out loud to anyone who cared to hear him. 

 

“Yay!” Raer responded with genuine enthusiasm. 

 

He looked over to where Raer and Ash were sitting on the floor, Naira between them, as they were helping her with a school project. But Miles, who was sitting on the couch, turned to face him and asked in a curious tone. 

 

“I know you’re connected with those workers’ rights campaigns. But I’m still not clear on what you’re writing the speech for. What’s it about? When you going to give it?” 

 

“This Hynijia. We have the rally and give the speeches on a working week evening. Done by design, as when these events are held on said evenings, they are fresh in the mind; so when anyone who attended goes back to work the very next day, they are more likely to talk about it with their fellow employees and even their bosses. It gets more people interested and, in turn, more people involved.” 

 

“That’s actually brilliant,” Miles commented with sincerity. “So what about why you’re writing the speech?” 

 

“The workers’ rights group I’m with, we’re doing our annual revised mission/vision statement. Each quarturn, roughly during the traditional harvest season, we hold a rally that highlights what the group is going to focus over the quarturn. Most of the basic principles remain unchanged, like the allowing of unions into Minu again. However, we’re also going to talk about some expansions of our goals and things like that,” he responded. 

 

“What’s the new vision statement going to focus on this year?” Akiva asked with a grin. 

 

“In short … holistic war,” he admitted with a chuckle; one that was shared by Akiva and Miles. But as he shook his head, he addressed the question in a more serious manner. “But really, we’re not pulling punches this time. We’ve walked softly around subjects for too long and are now calling people out by name. While my particular speech summarizes what we’ll be covering, I’ve already been given the speeches by the other members in order to write mine around it. For example, a historian will give a speech on how some societies have a history of inciting separation in the working classes along ethnic lines as a mechanism to keep them apart so the ruling class could manipulate and commit financial exploitation. He points out how when the masses became wise and ended the ethnic divisions, it correlated to the advent of the partitions in the lower and middle classes, including the introduction of HEAGEN. One just has to look at Melchior and Anahita to see that in action.”

 

“Oh!” Akiva exclaimed with emphasis. “This sounds deliciously confrontational. Continue, please.” 

 

“Okay,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Um … We have another speaker who is calling out the politicians about the education system and the adultification of children. Part one of her speech was the one that most interested me. The stupidification of children through laxed education. The powers-that-be encouraging children and parents to be more complacent to an education system that is producing students who are unable to exercise critical thinking — so when they enter the workforce, and their employers screw them over, they’ll be none the wiser. The second part, the adultification of children, has to do with the continued deterioration of child-labor laws. How there is a stark difference between granting more agency to children but ignoring the parameters that make them particularly vulnerable to exploitation. She calls out some politicians by name. Looking forward to seeing those responses in the weeks to come.”

 

“Deo! You know I’m a sucker for rebellion. This is getting me all pumped up for a fight,” Akiva enthused as rubbed her knees vigorously, illustrating she was indeed getting physically amped. “Keep going!” 

 

He felt his breath come out with a sigh of exhaustion as he spoke in an imploring voice. 

 

“Akiva, no. I’m getting tired. It’s been a long day going through all of this, and it’s still early in the day. If you’re so interested, why don’t you just come to the rally? I’m sure your fire will be infectious, and we could use that.” 

 

“Oh seriously, can we?” Miles asked with a bounce in his seat. 

 

“Of course,” he responded. “It’s going to be Midtown Park. Open to the public. The more people we have, the better. You’re all welcome.” 

 

“Eeerrr,” Akiva growled with frustration. “Fine. I’ll accept both you being tired and your invitation. Only if you give me one more spoiler to entice me.” 

 

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he reached for one of the pre-written speeches on the table and held it up as he accommodated Akiva’s request. 

 

“This is the last speech of the night. And it is a scathing rebuke on Cartmel Hylatee and the company. Facts will be dropped. Events will be made known. It will point out how her practices are an actual threat, not just to livelihoods, but to actual lives.” 

 

“More so than you know,” Wayra uttered in a somber cadence. 

 

He turned his attention to Wayra, who was sitting across the table from him. But before he could respond, Akiva asked in a careful voice. 

 

“What did you see, Wayra?” 

 

As Wayra glanced at Akiva and then returned his attention back to him, he looked him directly in the eye and asked in a serious intonation. 

 

“Do me a favor, Porter. In your address, when you summarize that last speech, point out to Cartmel … or better yet, to the people around her … a critical warning. Cartmel doesn’t just pose a threat to the daily life, she poses an existential threat to the world. One no one could imagine.” 

 

He felt his eyes blink in confusion, as Wayra stood from the table and walked out of the room without an explanation to his request. But as his graces immediately reached out to read the situation, they only brought to him the knowledge that Wayra’s appeal was one that was profoundly consequential — and one that demanded to be obliged.

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