When he takes their first steps onto the sand of the desert Overground, Amandine does so in the same way that he did on that first, bright, terrible, beautiful day: clutching fast to the hand of Nikola Dobos, half a step behind his best friend. There is no sun, this time, and they are not fleeing from the threat of maybe-real bombs, which means that he can take the time to look, to see, to watch where they are coming from and what they are stepping out into.
“See, Ama?” Nikola squeezes his hand, pointing up at the stars above with her free one. “The stars. They're beautiful.”
Amandine follows her hand, her gaze, and for the first time takes in the sky. It is vast, it is wide, it is everything she told him it would be. And it is more. For the first time, Amandine looks up and sees light other than the flickering floodlight above him, light that does not fill him with a coursing, racing fear. There is light, out there, so far away. Pinpoints fleck the night-velvet canvas with scattered gleams. There are lights, out there, and the dancing lights on his humming rig seem to sing in quiet chorus with them. As above, so below. Maybe Amandine has always loved stars and he just didn't know to love the celestial ones.
Another squeeze of the hand. “Ama?” it says, without speaking. They pull his gaze back down to earth, back to their best friend. Her free hand no longer points to the sky above but to a place on the ground, just a short distance away. Wind and time and hands have swept away the sand that was once stained crimson, but neither of them could forget the place if they tried—they have not, they would not want to. Wordless, Amandine and Nikola approach.
The farmer-turned-mycologist-turned-listener-turned-leader removes his backpack and opens it so that Nikola, with reverence, can remove the carefully packaged item within. A sprinkler. On designed specially to gather what little moisture there is in the air, that precious life, and pool it into something useful. After all, even though there are no gardens that need watering yet in Principium, there will be. And even if a thing isn't useful, isn't necessary, isn't practical, it can still be good and beautiful and worth making, worth shaping, worth sharing. Amandine has learned this lesson and more from the friends he loves and the ones he wished he'd had more time to love.
When the sprinkler is set carefully in its place, Amandine steps back, giving Nikola space. He does not have words to share right now, but she does, and they know she will want space to do so. He does not go far—only a few paces so that she can come back to them when she is ready. Silent, he casts their gaze to the sky.
It's late. Later than they'd hoped to be out here in the Overground, but what can you do when you're still learning all the fastest routes to get from the heart of the Republic to Terminus proper? Amandine hasn't memorized all the train schedules yet—he's been busy memorizing the faces, the names, the stories of the people who have chosen them to listen, lead. They don't know what he's doing, not yet, but they're learning, building, growing.
But it's late. By the time Nikola returns to his side, the horizon is blooming with a hint of color and the stars are fading into pre-dawn grey. Amandine watches, rapt. His eyes are wide.
“Ama?” Her hand is in theirs, squeezing once. Nikola's eyes follow his, coming to rest on the burgeoning light. Another squeeze, fingerless glove on callouses. “The sun will be coming up soon.”
Amandine simply nods.
“Should we go back down?”
He does not move. It is not the absence of fear—some still lingers—but it is wonder also. He does not speak. They do not have to.
So it is that the pair of them greet the dawn. Silent, still, their communication mycelial. And despite the quiet fright that can no longer grow loud in the presence of a friend, everything is fine. And as the rising sun paints the scene in a wash of unrivaled briliance, it's all good. And finally, they turn their back on it all to return home beneath, where everything is okay. And what a beautiful thing that is.
- Written by Tenaya F.
Republic Town Meeting: Minutes
Tuesday, March 13th, 2142
(Please note that the meeting commenced at 19:47 due to absences. Tardiness on the part of Amandine Jackson was justified by, quote, “Nikola stuff. She wouldn’t let me leave the workstation until she’d finished the solar panel prototype!”.)
Notes begin.
Notes conclude.
With Amandine holding the guiding light aloft, the Republic begins to flourish. It is not a closed thing, no impassable walls or inflexible borders for this place. It stands apart from the shadow of the Director's Office, apart from the violence that was intrinsic in its formation, but it will not let be lost to time the roots from which it grew. It is a part of the Underground. It always has been, it always will be; no matter the constant growth, the progress, the expansion. They will not forget.
People are happy here, now. They are safe. Peace is never a given, and tranquillity is far from constant, but this community refuses to fracture the way it once did. They refuse to turn against one another - mother against daughter, son against father - no more does the animal instinct of pure survival rule any single person. Members can leave, can travel, can adapt and shift and grow, of course they can, but they will know that their community will forever welcome them back. This is a family now. This is the People's Republic.
Amandine leads they listen, they learn, and they live. They have helped to create something beautiful, here. And they, too, will not be forgotten.