it felt good to be out of the rain
[shaking head] this don't make no sense
The breeze drifted through her hair, lifting it, whipping it against her face. All was quiet, the air heavy with bated breath. The oppressive tension, weight on her shoulders that didn't truly exist. A weight on her chest, breathing steady and unlabored, but she felt so overwhelmingly numb.
She knew this place.
She had seen it bright and busy, green with life. The sounds of people talking, children laughing and playing. It was a safe haven, a home miles and miles away from the home of their fathers. Lush green plants, the trilling calls of birds, even artificial rain.
Now she looked out at the world, rocks and sand and dust carried in the dry wind. The fake blue sky clear of clouds. She had always known Elysium to be perfect, always a comfortable temperature, given artificial fluctuations that were only a pale imitation of natural weather patterns.
The Elysium she saw now was a desert, devoid even of insect life. Hot and dry and so unnervingly still.
In the distance, the bell still rang.
It was so slow and solemn, as though time had lost all meaning here. The tree that stood on the little hill at the edge of the city in the sky had withered, nearly petrified under her fingertips.
She walked.
The sound of her footsteps was swallowed by the hollowness of the abandoned city. The bell was constant, even, regular. It would be so easy to get swept away, caught in the current of death and decay, to sit and never get back up.
She had spent so long in the cool metal hallways of the Beanstalk, surrounded by the unnatural lighting of computers and technology. Science was her home, her monitor surrounded by colour-coded folders, one section opposite her mousepad always clear to house her cup or mug or thermos, whichever one had been most recently filled with coffee.
Elysium had never been a home to her, and yet she was filled with such pain and sadness looking out at what it had become. An endless desert, without even bones to indicate there had once been life here. Only the corpses of buildings remained.
She followed the sound of the bell, a vague memory of religious ceremonies attended in stifled clothing, the droning of a man she did not know, hard seats and stained glass. Watching dust motes float in multi-coloured streams of light. As an adult, she had rarely attended church, disillusioned by the hypocritical teachings. Her faith was in science, in understanding the world around her, perhaps even in humanity itself.
Her breath caught in her throat, eyes heavy as she saw all that was left here. The world looked as though everyone had simply vanished one day, fading away even as they carried about their usual business.
Was this real?
Was this what was to come? If the Saviorites won, if humanity killed itself, violence and war and a refusal for compromise, to even attempt peace? Was this inevitable?
She had studied history, of course. People had always found something to fight over- resources, religion, hatred. There was always some reason or another to disagree, to resort to violence instead. The wars of the ancient world, records of things long past. Some events they would never truly understand, lost to time.
She had taken comfort in legends, in the hope to which humanity would always cling. She loved the tales of King Arthur, his compassion and justice. Perhaps she had been caught up in the tales of love and magic, as well, but could you blame her? Even now, the idea that King Arthur was supposed to return made her fond. That hope and trust, placed in a king who may never have existed at all, brought her comfort.
Humanity as a whole could be beautiful. But even beautiful things could be dangerous.
She sighed, her mind spiralling, lost and confused in this broken mirror world.
What was the point of her seeing this? One woman alone could not fix this.Even if she had the skills to re-terraform Elysium, which she did not, was there any point? She had not seen even a hint of life, much less another person. She would not kill herself, no, but to live in solitude in this endless dead world would be a horror of itself. She could not create life.
Perhaps she could go back into the depths of the Beanstalk, see if there was power left anywhere. If she could access a computer, perhaps even the cores of the Trinity Processor- but even artificial companionship would not be enough to restart the world. She was only human; eventually, she, too, would wither away into nothing, leaving the computers to recycle data endlessly.
Futility! Everything was futile, a chasing after this dry wind, meaningless and fake. A pretty facade to cover up the nothingness beneath.
Again, time was meaningless here. Galea was driving herself mad in this emptiness. Her feet had found their way to the old church of Elysium, dry-rotting and decayed, as non-denominational as a dead world could be.
Was this all there was? Sitting alone with her thoughts, heart heavy with grief for something she had taken for granted, had never indulged in, had never even cared for before.
Maybe this was a warning, a subconscious instruction to fix things. Perhaps not even subconscious- perhaps this was a message from the Conduit itself, a glimpse into an untold future. But she was not Klaus: she was not so arrogant to believe that she alone could make a difference, could fix a broken world.
All at once, her sadness and grief and despair was replaced by frustration. Had she not chosen this course? A life of science, of doing her part to change things. Aoidos was a government operation, yes. She was not so foolish as to think she could "change things from the inside", but she knew that this was an opportunity, a foothold to get close to something that could change things. It would have been more foolish not to accept.
Her field of science was computers, technology, mechanical engineering. She would leave biology and chemistry to Klaus. Organic life and materials... She had a healthy appreciation for them, but how could she learn enough to stop whatever had happened to Elysium in whatever limited time was available?
She could not go to her bosses for advice. No one would ever believe that this was real (did she? Was she going crazy in her own mind? Left alone for an hour and she was ready to throw things). Rhadamanthus authorities would strip her of her position, quietly escort her to either a civilian home in Elysium (where she would kick and scream and generally cause fear and chaos) or quietly hide her away until everyone forgot.
The only one she could turn to would be Klaus, but a lingering feeling of dread told her that could be an equally bad idea. He was already obsessed with fixing things, of diving in where he did not belong.
Galea tipped her head back, eyes closed against the shaft of warm sunlight peeking in through the broken ceiling. Wave after wave of exhausting emotion. She only hoped she would wake up.
Would it be better or worse if this was a dream? A nightmare conjured from her own limited imagination, something that could be brushed aside and forgotten within the week, or else a gift she had not asked for and could not return?
The cooler air of the church tickled the back of her neck, the silky drape of her hair damp with nervous sweat. When was the last time she had just... sat? Thought in circles to herself, knowing there was nothing she could do at the moment?
Thinking was her specialty, of course. Her job required her to use her brain, and often to think in ways other people didn't. But to think without a purpose? She would bounce ideas off of her coworkers, sometimes play casual games. Strategy games, trivia games, even just being scarily good at jenga. But there had always been some unspoken distance, holding them at arm's length.
How lonely had her life been, that she was only now realising this? She was hesitant to even call Klaus a friend, and she talked to him every day, with or without a reason.
The loneliness of this abandoned city was getting to her.
She shook her head, silver strands loose. She toed off her heels, reluctant to walk all that distance again in shoes that hurt her feet. What would it matter? Her white lab coat was already fading to a streaked brown from the dust clouds that buffeted her.
When she opened her eyes, she sighed. The dark metal ceiling of the breakroom greeted her, fluorescent lighting harsh. She stood, brushing herself off. A melancholy feeling washed over her as she stepped through the door, eyes catching on the soft golden shine of her co-worker's hair.
There was still work to be done.