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elm-lawrence · 4 years

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MUTANT: THE BEGINNING // Chapter One: The News

Stephanie stifled a yawn as a customer walked to her register. This was her first customer in hours which, she mused, was the side-effect of working at a twenty-four-hour corner shop. As she rung up the sale and exchanged pleasantries with the middle-aged women, she glanced at the clock and groaned inwardly when it only read 2:23am. Only an hour and a half left

she thought to herself in an effort to lift her own spirits, but only succeeded in driving them lower than they were before.

She handed the lady her change, bid her a good night and then watched her wander slowly out the door. A blast of chilled wind snuck its way into the shop, for the brief moment the door was open. Stephanie shivered, and tried not the think about her walk home. Having had enough of standing still, and seeing no more customers, she decided to go for a stroll around the isles. As she walked, she made mental notes of what needed restocking, all while very conscious of the fact she would never remember them all.

She heard movement behind her and turned. Jed, the only other staff member working this late on a Thursday, was struggling with a heavy box at the door to the stock room. She ran to help him.

“I’ve told you before, J, it’s bad for your back to lift these on your own!” Jed was a 40-something year old man with tanned skin, dark hair and the bushiest eye-brows Stephanie had ever seen. He had been off with a bad back no less than 6 months ago and had come back with strict instructions from his doctor to take it easy but seemed to take this more as a suggestion than an order.

“I’m fine, Steph! It’s not even that heavy!” He said, huffing slightly, once they’d set it down.

“Really? So, the hyperventilating is just, what, your normal reaction to movement?” She said, fixing him with her best withering stare. She got a playful glare in response.

“You ought to learn to respect your elders, young lady. You’re, what, 20? 21?”

“23.”

“23! That’s still a baby, if you ask me. Far too young to have such an attitude.”

“And you’re far too old to be lifting heavy boxes by yourself, clearly.” She teased back, enjoying the only source of entertainment she had.

“Why, you cheeky-” He cut himself off when the bell over the door rang out, signalling someone entering the shop.

“Go on, run along now.” He gestured at her dismissively as he pulled out his box cutter and began stocking cans onto the shelves beside him. She sighed and hurried back to her post, smiling as she passed the customer but got no acknowledgement in response. Stephanie frowned as she moved to her counter and continued to keep an eye on the man. He was around 25-ish, dressed in black jeans, a dark blue sweater and a grey beanie. He seemed dazed and unfocused as he searched the shelves. As she inspected him, she could see sweat on his skin despite the cool March night temperatures and the shops general lack of insulation. Stephanie almost classed him as suspicious but having worked the night shift so many times over her year and a half of employment, it took a lot more than knitted headwear and unseasonal sweat to peak her interested. Afterall, most who did their shopping at corner shops at 3am where not what one would consider ‘average.’

He approached the counter with a few bags of crisps, a fizzy drink and some painkillers. She rung him up, keeping an eye on his. For his part, his own eyes were rapidly darting back and forth, seemingly unable to focus on any one thing for more than a few seconds.

“That’ll be £5.40, please.” She said, watching him warily now. The neighbourhood the shop was based in had a bad reputation which, in her opinion, was not completely true, but the occasionally unsavoury character found their way through. The man did not seem to hear her, his eyes fixated now on something just over her left shoulder. She fought the urge to turn and remained her composure.

“Sir?” His eyes focused on her now, seeming to realise for the first time that she was there, waiting for his response.

“Huh?” He asked, and even from this she could tell he would slur his words if he was able for form any sort of coherent sentence.

“That will be £5.40, please.” She repeated, gesturing to the items on the counter.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled £10 note and dropped it on the counter. “Keep the change.” He said and gathered his things in his arms before unsteadily stumbled out into the street, the bell chiming his exit. Stephanie put the money in the till and glanced up as Jed walked over.

“He was a strange one.”

“Looked like he was high on something. And he got sweat on my counter.” She grimaced at the droplets and fished around under the desk for the disinfectant and cloth she kept there. She was no stranger to strange people, and she did not particularly mind most of them so long as they kept their strange off her counter.

“What time you here till?” Jed asked her as she swept the cloth over the counter.

“Four am, almost home time. You?” Jed scowled at the glass window looking out onto the dark empty streets, as if blaming his work life on the night-time sky.

“Six. Josh said he couldn’t start any earlier so Bossman's got me pulling his weight.” Stephanie shook her head.

“Typical.” She sighed.

The clock struck 4:00 as she clocked out, yelling her goodbye and good luck to Jed, she shrugged her coat on and shivered when she stepped into the cool night air. Stephanie lived relatively close to her work which, when her boss seemed to have sealed her fate to work until stupid hours of the morning until her death, was a blessing.

Pulling the coat tighter around her and shoving her hands in her pockets, she walked quickly through the streets, which already had the beginnings of a frost settling upon them. She turned the corner, sped up the streets and reached her apartment building in no more than ten minutes. She took her keys from her pocket, freezing night air immediately seizing her skin in its icy grip, unlocked the door, shut it heavily behind her and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. She stopped outside apartment 130 and unlocked the door before hurrying inside.

Once safely inside her home, she shed her coat and jumper, cranked up the heating a tad, and sat heavily on her sofa with a sigh of relief.

“God this sofa has never felt so good,” she murmured, flicking the TV onto the late-night news channel. After allowing the news to sufficiently scare her about the current state of the world, Stephanie decided food would make her feel better again and muted the TV as she moved to her kitchen. Unfortunately, she discovered, for someone who worked somewhere people buy food from, she was horrendously understocked.

“What a terrible excuse for an adult I am.” She scolded herself, slipping some partially stale bread in the toaster and plunging it down as she rooted the butter out of the fridge. She quickly got changed, slipping her pyjama shorts on just as the toaster popped. She sat back down, having completed her gourmet meal, and glanced back at the TV. The presenter was the same as before; a middle-age white man with greying hair, slicked back to give the illusion of volume. This time, however, he looked worried. His eyes held uncertainty as they moved across the page, and his mouth was moving quickly. Stephanie frowned, then unmuted the TV while she ate and his words flooded the room, like a tidal wave of bad news.

“-urging people to stay in their homes. The illness seems to spread via contact with body fluids, however nothing is confirmed. As of yet, the illness seems to be confined to Russia, with their borders being shut down and any and all British personnel of importance transported via private airways back to the safety of the United Kingdom. These officials are being closely monitored and quarantined for clinical signs. Any updates will be broadcast as soon as we have them.” With that, the broadcast cut off abruptly and adverts began rolling across her screen.

Stephanie muted the TV again and sat back, crunching into her last slice of toast. Just then, a clattering from her bedroom, and movement towards her sofa.

“Bout time you woke up!” She called light-heartedly, as her Siamese cat hopped up onto the back of her sofa, mewing and purring. She moved the plate on her lap to the coffee table and picked him up, cuddling him into her body.

“Good morning handsome boy, I take it you enjoyed your time alone? No parties while I was gone?” Her purred in response, rubbing up against her. Technically speaking, Sye was not her cat per say, rather one that seemed to invade her home every few days for a nap while she was at work. Stephanie assumed he lived somewhere in the building, probably a loud apartment with annoying kids, and her bed was more his nap pad than anything else. When she first saw him in the halls, he’d followed her back to her flat and even since then Sye would show up, completely randomly and out-of-the-blue like the terrible house guest he was.

“You hungry?” She asked him, and he meowed loudly at her, jumping onto the arm of the chair and flicking his tail.

“An enthusiastic yes, then!” She pushed herself up, shoved some cat food onto a plate and put it on the kitchen floor. While Sye inhaled his food, she went to her bedroom and flicked the lights on, sighing at the phone charger that was now on the floor.

“I invite you into my home, feed you, keep you warm, let you nap… and this is how you repay me?” She muttered, picking it up and placing it back on her nightstand. “Typical.”

She grabbed her laptop, plopped down on her bed and opened it up. She noted dully that it was nearly 5am.

As she settled into her nightly routine of aimless scrolling, she heard a loud meow followed by the faint sounds of claws on her rug.

“Hey!” She yelled as she cast her laptop aside and ran to her front door. “We will have none of that in this home, sir.” She scolded Sye, as he sat down in front of her doors, eyes wide and expecting.

“I do hope you behave better for your real family. Go on, shoo.” She opened her door and he meowed once before strolling slowing down the hallway towards the stairs. Shaking her head, she flicked the sound back up on the TV.

“A press release from Government officials has been released.” Stated the white-haired news caster. “Much like earlier, people are being urged to stay in their homes, however those in the centre of heavily populated areas are being urged to find refuge in less densely populated areas if it is safe to do so. Public transport may be affected. It has been released that this new pandemic can turn people violent. There have been reports of random attacks on strangers, wives attacking husbands, even children attacking parents. I will reiterate at this point to stay inside. The virus is spread through contact with those already infected. Research into this new virus is being conducted, but due to the large number of people reporting symptoms the work is moving slowly. Please, if anyone near you is presenting symptoms, restrain them for their own safety, until medical officials can reach you. Do not take them to the hospitals yourself, for your own safety. Be safe.”

And with that, the broadcaster disappeared off screen and was replaced not by the usual music, by but a black screen. Stephanie stood still, staring at the dark TV screen, giving herself a few more moments to properly absorb the story.

Suddenly, from outside there came the sound of squealing tires and metal scraping.

She ran to the window, broken from her fear by the thundering noise, peering outside into the streets. This early in the morning, the run-down area was relatively quiet, with the occasional noise of traffic from the nearby main roads. With the sun rising over the city, casting it in an eerie early morning shadow, Stephanie saw a car on the pavement, a lamppost bent over the dented bonnet. She watched for any movement, reaching blindly for her phone to dial for an ambulance, when someone stepped out from the wreckage.

As she called for an ambulance, someone emerged from the building opposite hers, rushing towards the accident. The driver was leaning against their car, head slumped with a hand over their chest. The concerned stranger reached them, reached out a hand, before the driver’s head snapped up. Stephanie could not see the expression on either face from her vantage point, however she got a bad feeling about the exchange by the way the stranger froze a few feet from the driver. She fought the irrational urge to go outside and see if he was okay.

The phone was still ringing. She had been so wrapped up in watching the scene unfold she’d forgotten she was calling the ambulance. Why was it still ringing? She’d dialled minutes ago, how long did the emergency services take to answer the phone?

Then the ringing stopped, and she took her eyes off the scene before her to frown at her phone, checking if she still had power. She did. The call had dropped, her signal had dropped. She heard a scream and looked back to see the driver running after the stranger, arms outstretched and movements wild like a starved predator. Even from her room, she heard his growling, like a rabid animal. Eyes wide, heart racing, she drew the curtains.

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bbclesmis · 6 years

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‘Valjean is like Spider-Man’

DOMINIC WEST FIGURES he's played his share of awful people. The serial killer Fred West in Appropriate Adult? Jimmy McNulty, the Baltimore cop in The Wire? A lovable rogue, but a rogue nonetheless. Noah Solloway, the lead in The Affair? "He's deeply silly," West contends. "Just a silly man!" In the film Colette (out this Friday), he plays a sadistic husband who locks his gifted wife (Keira Knightley) away and makes her write books for which he claims credit.

"As an actor, you do live with these people and experience what they're feeling," sighs the actor, 49. "If they're a******s, it's exhausting and ultimately degrading. So it was such a relief to play someone who's great." And he smiles that irascible smile, the one that makes you root for West even when he's playing murderers and pretentious, adulterous novelists.

Jean Valjean, West's character in the BBC's adaptation of Les Miserables, is not only "great" in the actor's eyes. He is nothing less than the "greatest hero in all literature": a superhero ex-convict who has spent 19 years in prison being tortured by Inspector Javert (David Oyelowo) for stealing a loaf of bread, but who determines on his release to be the best possible man he can be... with heartbreaking results.

West considers Victor Hugo's French revolutionary epic to be the "greatest novel ever written", too - "much better than War and Peace!" - and certainly much better than the famous musical (he's not a fan).

"Valjean is not just a good guy, he's an amazing guy. Like Spider-Man!" he beams. "He climbs up the sides of buildings to rescue kids. And he has the legitimacy of intense suffering; he's done 19 years of hard labour. That knocks Iron Man into a cocked hat! Then you get into the humanity of Valjean, his demons, his desperate need to redeem himself... He's trying not to be the brute that the prison has turned him into. You become a better person by spending time with someone like that."

He has asked me to his home, a converted brewery in Wiltshire that he shares with his wife, Catherine FitzGerald, and four children - Dora, 11, Senan, ten, Francis, nine, and Christabel, five - "I'm trying to cut down," he jokes. (He has another daughter, Martha, from his first marriage, who is studying English at Oxford and wants to act.) "I think all households should have a five-year-old girl running round," he says. "I just think it's better for children. Stops them from becoming little princesses. It's much harder to be a spoilt brat as one of four."

HE OPENS THE door unshaven and unkempt with a general air of bohemian bonhomie. He puts on a succession of silly voices as he leads me through to his kitchen. "Teas? Light refreshments? Do we want hot milk in our coffees? Yes?" He's such a chameleon as an actor that even his own accent sounds as if it's put on. He was educated at Eton, but his family isn't proper posh. His Irish father owned a plastics factory in Sheffield, his mother was an actor and he's the sixth of seven children.

The Wests have been doing up the house for about three years, but only moved in last summer - there are paintings waiting to be hung, pieces of Lego, mugs, antiques scattered around... The house used to be a "very manageable cottage next to a derelict brewery, but having decided to connect them all together they're only now getting used to the layout. "There are about five different doors to choose from. I didn't realise how spread out it would be. It's enormous!" They moved from west London to give the kids more space to range around when they're teenagers: "I want my kids to be around trees and animals more."

We take refuge in his office, up in the rafters of the old brewery, where he sinks into an armchair and resumes recounting his love affair with Les Miserables.

THE BBC VERSION is written by Andrew Davies and picks up more or less where his adaptation of War and Peace left off. It opens on the field of Waterloo in 1815 in the aftermath of Napoleon's defeat. Back in Paris, the royalists are resurgent - but can't quell the forces unleashed by the Revolution.

In the first episode, we follow Valjean's ill-starred attempts at redemption after his nemesis, Javert, releases him; meanwhile, the grisette Fantine (Lily Collins) falls for a cad (Johnny Flynn) and becomes pregnant with little Cosette - whose path will cross with Valjean's in the future. Six episodes, much heartache and many improbable coincidences will take us all the way up to the 1832 June Rebellion in Paris.

West hadn't read the epic novel, but now that he has, he's a convert. He even loves Hugo's digressions into the design of the Paris sewers. "Actually, I'd have loved it if we could have made six seasons out of it," he says. 'There's more than enough material and it's all important and relevant. As with any great classic, it's big enough to handle any amount of interpretations."

Javert's antipathy to Valjean is one of the engines of the plot - but it's also something of a mystery. Why does Javert hate him so much? "I always like to trace motivations to sex," West says. "I said to David, 'Javert obviously fancies him!' But he thought that was crass."

Did the rivalry extend off-set? "You're never quite sure where the character ends and the actor starts," he laughs. "But the key to David is that he's actually royal. He's a prince in Nigeria. And he doesn't drink. He's very religious. He's been married to his wife since he was 19 and they have four beautiful children. I hadn't realised people like that existed in the acting world! He's a very inspiring guy."

The co-stars decided it was the shared trauma of being institutionalised that set their characters against one another. "Valjean doesn't think he deserves anything other than brutality. Javert is constantly reminding him he's just a common criminal who breaks rocks and murders people."

Oyelowo is one of a number of non-white actors in the cast, marking a departure from traditional costume-drama casting. West jokes that he really wanted to do it all with 'A1lo'Allo accents, but: "Like any classic, it's not a museum piece. It has relevance to modern life. Eponine and the girls all talk like modern London girls. And therefore it looks like modern Britain, too."

THE PRODUCTION LOOKS likely to make Collins, as Fantine, a star. "She's incredible," says West. "It's an exhausting part. So harrowing. Any actress who goes for it deserves all the accolades she gets..." The first scene they shot together was Fantine's death, filmed in a freezing manor house outside Brussels at 5am. "She really went for it. I was like, 'Oh my God! How did you do those spasm things?' She said, 'I just made it up'." I imagine it's reassuring to have West on set: he is very experienced, but doesn't take himself too seriously. Do the younger actors come to him for advice? "Pfah! No. I'm jaded and lazy."

The Wire was the show that brought him fame, as well as a credibility not usually open to Old Etonians. But originally he didn't want to be in it. "And it turns out to have been the one thing that everyone knows me for and it was one of the best shows ever made! I think [creator] David Simon is almost the Victor Hugo of our time... certainly the Charles Dickens."

The Affair offers more escapist pleasure, its marital rows interspersed with good-looking people having sex (even if he doesn't think much of Noah). The Wests are about to decamp to LA for the filming of the final season, but it will be without Ruth Wilson this time. Last February, she disclosed in a Radio Times interview that she was "sure" she earned less than West. "I don't want more money, I just want equal money," she added. Not long after that her character Alison Bailey was killed off. What was all that about? "Oh, not related!" West yelps.

He remains good friends with Wilson. The main point of contention on set was whose behind would be visible in the sex scenes. "We used to fight about it. 'You're on top this time', 'No! I was on top the last three times!'"

He'd never given much thought to who was paid what, he says. "I never asked what the money is on a show. It was more a question of if I wanted to do it. So it woke me up to the issue. I never realised the disparity and the injustice."

It's one of a number of changes he has noticed since the #MeToo movement gained ground. "One thing that's happened is a positive discrimination in favour of female directors. But the main thing is that unacceptable behaviour from male directors or actors is now either not possible, or you can call them out on it. There was one guy in particular whose behaviour was disgusting. Particularly to young females in minor roles. I tried to counter it on several occasions. But now it wouldn't be so hard to get rid of them."

'Treatment of women has taken a big step back in television'

He twists his face in derision at those who feel the feminists have gone "too far". "Treatment of women has taken a big step back in the past 20 years," he says, his voice rising. "Particularly in television, which has become more pornographic and the burden of that falls squarely on young women. Things like Game of Thrones, where you get a pair of bare breasts every five minutes... I mustn't say this, but..." Say it!

"I'm fairly sure that 20 years ago young actresses would not have had pressure put on them to take their clothes off. The parts young actresses get, particularly pretty ones, involve violent rape. When I think about my daughter going into the profession... I'm just really glad that #MeToo has started to counteract what has happened in the past 20 years."

He puts it down to internet porn - "It's made boys feel that women are sex objects who are easily available" - as well as social media. "If you can swipe someone's face because you don't think they're pretty and it costs you that little... I haven't done it myself, but it cheapens it."

HE's CONCERNED AT the turn the world is taking: he mentions Trump, climate change, teenage boys becoming addicted to the online game Fortnite. A wariness of modernity seems to have inspired the move to the countryside; he and his wife are "luddites", he confesses. "I'm not one of those people who say, 'How can you bring children into this world?' But I do want to spend a lot more time hanging out with my kids and running around in forests."

Once he has finished filming the last season of The Affair, he plans to hire an enormous camper van, bundle the entire family into it and spend a few months driving around the States.

"It's the last chance we have," he explains. "They're nearly teenagers, so they're not going to want to spend that much time with their old man for much longer. I've spent a long time away from them. So we're taking six months, four months of it travelling. I've taken them out of school - there are no big exams. We'll home school them. They'll read. No screens. You're not going to get a better education than that. If you travel with as little as possible, you get much more interesting experiences."

Radio Times 5-11 January 2019

#les mis bbc #bbc les mis #dominic west #Jean Valjean #valvert #david oyelowo #javert #Lily Collins #fantine #Interviews #articles #radio times

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 6 years

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Origin

Title: Origin Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 9,961 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day three - Fear/Excitement (Wind) Notes: i love miraculous ladybug. i love superhero AUs. please don't judge me. you shouldn't need to have seen the show to understand this oneshot, but please let me know if anything is unclear! also feel free to come and yell with me about this AU because i love it a lot.

Summary: There is such thing as magic - both the good kind, and the bad.

Also on: AO3

There is such thing as magic.

That’s what Sorey thinks, anyway. Usually his nature tends to be that of a realistic thinker, but he’s always had a soft spot for the supernatural. It doesn’t matter what kind of magic it is; stereotypical witchcraft or spell-casting, or even forces like fate and destiny. Regardless of the type, magic has to exist in some form or another.

Of course, there’s no proof that he’s right. Even if there is, he has no way of finding it for himself, especially not when he’s in a situation like this.

His father’s study feels like a black hole where magic goes to die. The dark, regal colouring and antique flooring might suggest the opposite. But the atmosphere in the room, the hopelessness permeating the air, is what lets him know he’s right.

Georg Heldalf, Sorey’s father, stands before the window, his back facing him and blocking the outside world from view. The light before him creates the effect of his back being shadowed, hidden from view.

“Please, father,” Sorey pleads. “I promise I’ll be careful, and I’ll come straight home afterwards-”

“I’ve told you time and time again, Sorey,” Georg says without moving to face him. “You will not be going to school and that is final.”

“Is it too much to ask for a single year of being allowed to learn more about the world?”

His father scoffs. “How insolent. I pay for the best tutors in Pendrago to teach you everything you need to know for a full education, and this is the thanks I get. Everything you need is in this house.”

Sorey clenches his fist, turning his gaze to the only other adult in the room. His father’s assistant, Runette, only watches silently, her lips pressed tightly together.

Maybe magic isn’t real after all. At least, it doesn’t exist in this house.

“I appreciate everything you do for me,” Sorey says in a measured tone, “but there’s more for me to see outside this house. More people for me to meet. A life lived without going outside is barely a life at all.”

Georg heaves a great sigh, pushing a hand through his blond hair in agitation. “I have given you everything I could since your birth. Now your mother is gone, I am going through more trouble to keep you safe and happy.”

“But can’t you see that I’m not happy?”

“Leave.” His father’s tone is final, strong and low. “You will not be going to school. I have nothing more to say on the matter.”

For a moment, Sorey waits, desperate to say something else, to try to convince him. In the end, though, all he can do is hold his tongue and leave, heading back through the large, lonely house towards his room.

Now, more than ever, he wishes magic was real. Maybe then he’d have a chance at a normal life.

Mikleo would love for magic to be real. Maybe it would make life easier.

Of course, there's no chance of that happening. Though he enjoys thinking of impossible things, he always sees them for what they are - impossible. That's why he doesn't get his hopes up that high school will be any better than middle school had been, or that some miracle will suddenly fix everything wrong with his life.

When he gets up on the first day of high school, his excitement is tainted by a sense of dread. There won't be many new people in his class, judging on how previous years have been. He'll be stuck in another year with a group of people he's never fit in with, and who never seemed to like him anyway.

Switching off his alarm, he takes a moment to gaze at his phone’s wallpaper, his lips curling upward at the sight of a picture of him with his best friend.

He wishes, not for the first time, that Sorey might be there to brave this new school year with him.

Again, there’s no chance of that happening. Even without the factor of Sorey’s father being the strictest man he’s ever had the misfortune to meet, he hasn’t seen Sorey for months, now. Not since his mother, Selene disappeared.

Locking his phone, he forces himself out of bed, where he puts on his glasses and begins to get ready for the day. His new school uniform is a little big on him, the white blazer sleeves almost dwarfing his palms, but he’ll grow into it. At least when he brushes his mouse-brown hair into a more sophisticated style, he doesn’t look quite so young.

Once he’s ready, he heads downstairs from his attic bedroom into the kitchen. His mother, Muse, is already there, brewing them both cups of tea to go with the cereal which sits on the island counter.

“Good morning, sweet pea,” Muse says through a yawn.

Muse has the same problem as Mikleo in that she’s always busy and never takes breaks. She wakes up at 5am everyday to make pastries for the coming day in the bakery downstairs. Then she spends all day working there, and she does the admin work at night before bed. Somehow, she fits in time to clean the house and do the chores whilst Mikleo is at school, too. He has no idea how she does it.

“Morning,” he replies, sitting down at one of the island stools. He grabs a clean bowl and pours himself some cereal. “How are you?”

“Ready for another busy day, as usual,” she says, putting a strong cup of tea on the counter beside him. “Are you excited for school? First day of a new year, after all.”

Mikleo hums in an unenthusiastic tone. “It’ll be the same as it is every year, mum.”

“But you’re in high school now,” she points out, sitting down to get her own breakfast. “Maybe something exciting will happen that will make your whole year amazing.”

“That would take a miracle, mum.”

‘Or some form of magic,’ he thinks.

A man stands alone in a dark chamber. The only light source is a window high above him, which looks out onto the city from a great height. Though the chamber is shrouded in darkness, there is no furniture to be seen. The only other inhabitants of the room are silver energy particles which float around the man, hovering near the ground.

The man holds out his hand in front of him, where a brooch lies in his palm. A red gem glimmers in the centre of its golden body, shimmering in the low light.

“What did you say you are?” he asks.

In front of him floats a strange being, one with skin of a purple hue and a blob-like form. The little creature has small pointed ears atop its head, and a tail with a fluffy tip.

"I am a kwami named Symonne," the creature says. "I live within the brooch you're holding, the Lion Miraculous."

"And if I wear this brooch, you will grant me powers?" he asks.

"Yes. I provide the power to send off energy to people, which gives them their own powers for a short period of time, under your jurisdiction. They will be able to do as you command them to."

Though the man’s face is hidden in shadows, his teeth gleam in the light. "And if I capture two certain Miraculouses, I might be granted special powers?"

Symonne nods. "Capturing the Miraculous of the Magpie and the Cat will grant you both the powers of creation and destruction, and any wish you ask for will come true."

A grin spreads across his lips. "Then I shall do exactly that. And what better way to lure two Miraculous-holding superheroes than to create supervillains, do you not agree?"

"Yes, master," Symonne says, her own lips curling as she watches him pin the brooch onto his shirt. "All you have to do is ask."

The man, standing tall in his lair, calls out. "Symonne, transform me!"

Darkness envelopes him, swirling around him as his clothing changes. A moment passes before he stands once more, this time clad in an entirely different outfit, one drenched in hues of purple and black. A mask covers his face, hiding his identity behind the image of a lion. The brooch on his collarbone holds together a long black cloak.

“Let it be known now that I am Calamity,” he says. "I shall cover Pendrago in darkness, in order to fulfil my wish. That is my answer."

Calamity lets out a roar of laughter, and for a moment, the world sees nothing but darkness.

The dark aura, for the most part, is unnoticeable. Only a few creatures sense it when it washes over them, one of whom stirs in a small house on the outskirts of the city.

Kyme freezes in the drawer where he usually sleeps, his body wrought with fear. This sensation filling him is one he has only felt a few times before, at times which preceded eras filled with chaos.

It is dread which makes him fly out of the drawer, heading quickly to his master’s side.

He finds Zenrus in the living room of the house, sitting on a pillow in front of the fireplace. He takes a long drag from his pipe, his expression all too calm considering the situation.

“Master,” he says.

Zenrus turns his attention to the green kwami. “Kyme. Is something wrong?”

“Yes, master. I felt a terrible aura. It can only mean one thing.”

“The Lion Miraculous?” When Kyme doesn’t respond, he breathes out the smoke from his pipe. “So, Calamity will rise once more. It was bound to happen one day.”

“But master, it hasn’t even been two decades-”

“There is no use in pondering the reason,” Zenrus says. He pulls out a necklace from around his neck, clutching it in his free hand. “We must make haste in stopping Calamity.”

Kyme zooms over, stopping Zenrus from uttering any more words. “Master, with all due respect, your body is too weak now to transform.”

“I’m still young,” he says, though they both know otherwise. For a man who has lived for centuries, even if he is strong, he does not have the power alone needed to triumph over evil. “But you are right. We must call on those with power stronger than any other.”

He gets up from his seat, moving over to where a music box sits in the corner of the room. Though it looks innocent enough, he opens a panel on it and types in a code. When it opens, it reveals dozens of pieces of jewellery, all inscribed with ancient symbols.

“You will choose another Magpie and Luzrov?” Kyme asks hesitantly. He isn’t sure he wants to know the answer. Hearing the truth will only tell him how much their city, and perhaps even their world, is at stake.

Zenrus nods gravely. “In times like these, it is only these two who may put an end to the evil threatening our world. I’m afraid it is a necessity.”

For a moment, they both stay silent, contemplating the war which will begin the moment these Miraculouses come into use. It will be a long struggle, if the past instances are anything to go by. They’ll need to use all of their strength, and choose heroes with unwavering hearts.

Kyme turns his attention to his master. “Where should we begin?”

It’s surprisingly easy to sneak out of Sorey’s house.

He’s only done it a few times before, and he’s never gone much farther than the end of the street. That being said, he could have gone farther, if he’d wanted. His only issue is the guilt which crawls into his throat at the thought of being caught.

This time, however, when he climbs out of his window and over the wall surrounding the house, he doesn’t look back. To get what he’s always wanted, he can’t back out now. Otherwise he’ll never get to go to school, have a normal life, make new friends and see his existing ones more often.

And lord knows seeing Mikleo right now would be good enough to make this whole trip worth it.

He runs down the street, heading in the direction of the local high school. Pendrago is a large city, but most of the public services are very central, and with his father’s house being in the city centre, it’s fairly easy to find where he’s going. Not having an escort tailing him makes getting around a lot easier, too.

As he moves into more crowded areas, he forces himself to slow his pace to a fast walk. He can’t have himself sticking out in such a huge crowd, lest someone recognises him from the few pictures online of his father with his family, back when his political power stretched further.

All he’s going to do is enrol for classes. If he does that, surely his father will understand his resolve.

The school building looms in the distance, and he speeds up, ready to run straight in. However, as he approaches it, he sees an old man crossing the street in front of the school. The man walks with a cane and a hunched back, very slowly and uncertainly. The ringing of the school bell punctuates the moment his foot slips, and he falls to the ground, just as a car turns the corner.

When Sorey moves now, it is an instinct more than a thought process. One moment he’s watching from afar, the next he kneels beside the man on the road. He picks up the man’s cane before turning to him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, offering an arm. “Can you stand?”

The car approaching grinds to a halt as the old man takes Sorey’s arm, using it to levy himself off the ground and onto his feet once more. They move onto the pavement and Sorey passes him his cane with a warm smile, which the old man returns gratefully.

Before either Sorey or the man can say anything, though, the halted car’s door slams, and a familiar voice assaults his ears.

“Sorey!” His father’s assistant Runette stands by the car, her eyes wide with anger, chest heaving. “You must come home at once!”

Feeling his heart crush in his chest, Sorey turns to face her. He doesn’t notice as the old man walks away, barely using his cane at all to move. “Please, you don’t understand. I’ve wanted this for so long-”

“Your father has told you time and again. Neither he or I will make any exceptions.”

The sound of a crowd grows, and Sorey knows if he doesn’t want to cause a scene whilst the students are going for lunch, he should stand down. But he can’t bring himself to give up. This is his last chance at convincing his father - or at least his assistant - that he ought to be allowed to attend public school.

“I understand that my father is worried for me,” Sorey says, “but I don’t see any issue with this. School is meant to be a safe place. Why would I get hurt here?”

“You will not be attending, and that is final.”

“Please-”

“Sorey?”

This voice feels like a blessing and a curse when he hears it.

Sorey whips around, his heart racing as he sees the familiar figure of Mikleo standing a few feet away. He’s wearing the school’s uniform, complete with the iconic white blazer Sorey has seen people wearing when he passes the school in the car. The formal dress is a little surprising, but he can’t say it doesn’t suit Mikleo. The only thing which doesn’t seem to belong on his face is the confusion and concern forming in his violet eyes.

“Mikleo,” Sorey says weakly.

“What are you doing here?” Mikleo asks, looking between Sorey and Runette. “Is something wrong?”

When Sorey opens his mouth to answer, he feels Runette’s ice-cold glare in the back of his head more than he hears her speak his name in a warning tone.

He holds up a finger to represent “one second” before rushing over to Mikleo.

“There isn’t time to explain everything right now,” Sorey says. “Can I call you later?”

Though Mikleo looks like he wants to ask more questions, he settles for a nod. “Alright. Just don’t scare me like that in the future, okay?”

“Thanks, Mikleo.”

Sorey heads back toward Runette, hesitating when he sees the escort car waiting for him, ready to return him to a life he will never escape from.

There’s no point in resisting, though. All he can do is obey the wishes of his father. He’s powerless to do anything else.

Zenrus turns the corner, heading into an alleyway behind the school. It’s shaded enough that onlookers shouldn’t see more than a silhouette if they happen to glance over as they pass by. Reaching into his pocket, he removes an ornate jewellery box in the shape of a hexagon, marked with symbols only he and a few others understand.

“Take this to that boy’s house,” he tells Kyme, who comes out from his hiding spot in Zenrus’ other pocket.

“Are you certain? This boy is definitely the right one for the Magpie Miraculous?”

Part of Zenrus wishes Kyme wouldn’t be so cautious, but then again, he is the same way. “I only ever chose wrongly once, years ago. I will not allow that to happen again.”

With that as his answer, Kyme gives in, taking the box from his master. He is dwarfed by its size, but he manages to carry it with him as he flies off into the sky on his mission.

Watching after him, Zenrus grasps his cane. There is nothing left to do now but search for the other hero their city needs, and then hope he’s made the right decision.

As the black car drives away, Mikleo wonders if this day can get any weirder.

Not only has he just been faced with the sight of his best friend for the first time in months, having an argument in front of his school. He’s also been in classes where he doesn’t recognise a single person, and watched his History teacher lose his composure over the rudeness of a few careless students.

To be fair, Mikleo can understand why his teacher was upset. Professor Uno seems like an intelligent and patient man. For a class to give such a rude first impression, interrupting constantly and bickering without any care for their teacher’s warnings, it doesn’t give him hope for the rest of the school year. If the other students would just be more considerate, maybe things would be better.

A crash interrupts his thoughts, followed by a shriek of fear. He whips back to face the school, heart stopping as he sees what stands at the door.

Rather than a person, it’s more of a half-human, half-snake creature. The blue tail suggests it’s more snakelike, along with the scales crawling up the man’s exposed neck and face. His hair falls around his shoulders in a mess, his eyes now slits, glowing with rage. Strangest of all, he wears a snake around his neck.

“Students,” the man calls out, “My name is Uroboros. It is time you were taught a lesson in manners!”

When Mikleo said he wanted people to be more considerate, this isn’t how he expected them to be taught about it.

He backs away behind one of the pillars supporting the school building, watching from behind it as the snake man moves towards the fleeing students, swiping at them with long claws. It’s a sight unlike anything he’s seen before, unlike anything he’s ever wanted to see, and for a horrifying moment, he wonders if this is the proof he desired that magic exists.

If it is, he kind of wishes he never found out.

Uroboros swipes at a pillar, causing the roof to cave in, stone dust and debris falling from above. Mikleo has to run to get out of the way, holding one arm over his head and the other over his mouth, the fabric of his blazer hot against his lips from his breaths. As he reaches the corner of the building, he notices an old man standing nearby, a look of horror in his eyes as his cane lies abandoned a few feet away.

“You need to get out of here!” Mikleo yells, getting the man’s attention. He runs toward him, picking up the cane and handing it to him. “I’ll help you to safety.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, Mikleo grabs the man’s arm and drags him around the corner, running with him down the alleyway toward the next street down. It’s a useful shortcut to know, one which leads to a main street with plenty shops lining the streets. He drags the man into one at random. The door opens with a crash, and the woman behind the counter startles as he rushes in.

“There’s something attacking near the school,” Mikleo explains, letting go of the man’s arm. “Please look after this man. Lock all the doors and alert the others on this street.”

The woman nods, too scared and shocked to say a word, and Mikleo runs out of the shop again. If someone is terrorising the school, he can’t bring himself to sit back and do nothing.

In the shop, Zenrus gives a reassuring smile to the cashier before heading to the door. “The young boy is right. Please stay inside.”

The woman says, “Where are you going?”

“I have far more important things to be doing than hiding,” he answers cryptically.

As he leaves the shop and rushes down the street as fast as his legs will take him - which, to be fair, is a lot slower than it used to be - he can’t help the heavy feeling in his heart.

“I suppose the white cat runs in your blood,” he says to himself as he runs toward a certain bakery, where a pair of violet eyes reside, matching those of the boy he has chosen.

It’s only once Sorey gets back to his bedroom and turns on his TV that he hears about what’s happening.

He sits down on his sofa, reclining and ready to find another documentary he’s already watched a thousand times, only to find himself bombarded with news announcements.

“A man with the tail of a snake has been spotted roaming near the Pendrago High School,” the news reporter says. The footage switches to an aerial shot of the school, where it shows an unbelievable creature who truly has the body of a snake. “The creature is incredibly violent. We urge citizens to stay at home if possible, and not to engage the beast at all costs.”

“This is crazy,” Sorey murmurs, watching in horror as the snake creature swipes at a passing student. “Is this real?”

It occurs to him, that Mikleo had been near the school only minutes ago. He hopes with all his heart that he managed to get away.

His head drops as he wonders how this will end up. Will someone be able to stop the beast? Or will it continue terrorising innocent people? This is the kind of thing which only happens in comic books, but as far as he knows, there aren’t any superheros in Pendrago.

Catching sight of something in the corner of his eye, he looks up. In the centre of his coffee table sits an antique jewellery box.

It’s like nothing he’s seen before. Though the markings have come up in textbooks and online articles he’s read about ancient relics, he can’t figure out its origin era, or what it’s supposed to mean. Most confusing of all, of course, is how it ended up in his room. He’s never seen it before, and neither his father nor his assistants are the types to give gifts at random.

Well, he has nothing to lose. He opens the jewellery box.

Suddenly, a burst of white light surrounds him, and he squints his eyes as something materialises before him. It takes a moment for the light to disappear before he sees an unfamiliar creature floating in the air above the box. It looks a little like a bird, though it’s an unnatural shade of green, and it has a little antenna thing sticking out from its head. It also grins at him, which Sorey is unsure birds are usually able to do.

His expression changes to a disappointed frown a moment later. “Awww, I’d been hoping for a pretty lady this time.”

Sorey blinks, unsure how much more surprised he can get. He isn’t sure whether to ask what it is or why it can talk or what. In the end, what comes out of his mouth is, “Sorry?”

The thing, whatever he is, crosses his arms behind his head, letting his expression become easygoing once more. “Welp, can’t be helped. Hey kid, the name’s Zaveid. Looks like I’ll be your kwami from here on out.”

“What?” Sorey asks, getting even more confused at this new terminology. “What does that mean? Who are you?”

The kwami - Zaveid - rolls his eyes in exasperation. “I just told you, I’m Zaveid, a kwami. Seriously, you got ears, don’t you?” He looks down at the jewellery box, prompting Sorey to do the same. “See those earrings? That’s where I live.”

They’re an ordinary looking pair of silver ear cuffs, each with two black beads attached to them.

“You live in the earrings?” Sorey asks.

“Yup. If you put them on and say “transform me”, I grant you super special powers, and you can purify evil.”

Sorey’s eyes widen, slowly beginning to understand what Zaveid is talking about. “Wait, you can make people have magic?”

Zaveid grins. “Yeah. With my help, you’ll be a superhero. You up for it?”

“Of course! This is the kind of thing I’ve always dreamed of!” Sorey jumps up from the sofa, taking the earrings out of the box. As he puts them on, he continues with his questions, trying to pry more information out of the kwami.

Though Zaveid doesn’t tell him much, he learns this: with these earrings, he will become a hero with the power to create a lucky item to help him defeat villains. These are people who have been tainted by evil creatures known as akumas, which are controlled by - well, he’s not sure, Zaveid changes the subject before he can ask. In any case, as a hero, he’ll have the strength and ability to save those in need, and to purify the akumas, returning the victims to their original states.

“So you mean to say the snake thing attacking the school is an akuma victim?” Sorey asks, looking over to the TV once more.

“Looks like it,” Zaveid says. He doesn’t sound like he’s in much of a hurry as he says, “You should probably be quick. Looks like that guy’s only getting angrier.”

With both earrings on, there’s nothing stopping Sorey from going now. He clenches his hand into a fist, then grins confidently.

“Alright. Zaveid, transform me!”

Zaveid is sucked into his earrings, and light explodes around him. His body is encompassed by a warm aura, and he finds his clothes changing to a black and white bodysuit, fit with a colourful bird’s tail and thigh-high lace up boots. A mask with a pointed, beak-like nose covers his face, and he runs a glove-covered hand through his hair, messing it up a little to make it more windswept. White feathers sprout from his earrings, brushing against his skin.

The moment passes, and he finds himself alone in his room, now in a strange outfit.

Still, Sorey has never felt so powerful before. Now, he feels like he’s capable of anything.

“This is amazing!” he says, looking over himself. “So now what do I do?”

Only silence answers him.

“Zaveid?” he says, looking around himself. The kwami is nowhere to be seen.

“Alright,” he says to himself. “Guess I’ll figure it out as I go along.”

He rushes over to the window and jumps out, ready to take on whatever this creature will throw at him.

Mikleo’s chest heaves with exertion. He’s been running around the school for longer than he can keep track of, now. At least it looks like he’s helped most of the stragglers to safety at this point, but if there are any more here, he’s not sure how much help he’ll be. He’s already out of energy, and no one has shown up to tackle the snake man yet.

All he can do is hope that someone will come to save the day. After all, if snake people exist, then there must also be someone with the power to best them. Well at least, that’s what he hopes.

He makes sure the coast is clear before running out from his hiding spot, trying to find the best way of getting away from the school. It’ll do no good if he gets caught by that snake man now.

The door is in sight. He runs toward it at full speed, hoping the snake is where he left it, nearer the rear of the school than the front entrance. He gets outside, toward the debris where pillars have fallen, and it’s only at the last moment that he hears the sound of crumbling rock.

‘Oh no,’ he thinks.

Before he can even move to protect himself, something comes barrelling into him, pushing him out of the building as the stone pillars fall, blocking the door. He lands on the ground with a thud and a large weight on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

The weight shifts.

“Are you alright?” someone asks.

Mikleo opens his eyes, his heart hammering as he takes in the image of someone new, someone he’s sure he’s never seen before and yet feels some sort of familiarity toward. This guy - he has to be a superhero, no one else would wear that getup and push people out of collapsing buildings with that strength - but there’s something in his green eyes that Mikleo feels like he should recognise.

“I-I’m fine,” he stammers, still shell-shocked. He swallows to regain his composure before speaking again. “Who are you?”

The hero gets up off of him before offering a hand, pulling him back onto his feet with ease. “My name is So- er, Magpie,” he says. “I’m here to help get rid of a snake problem?”

For a moment, Mikleo isn’t sure exactly what to say. He’s never thought about being in this kind of situation before. Everything happening to him has put his head in such a spin, it feels like his whole knowledge of normal conversation has gone right out of his head.

In the end, he looks over in the direction of the school building. “I suspect it’s in there somewhere.”

Magpie nods, his feathered earrings blowing in the wind with the ends of his windswept hair. “Thanks. Let me get you to safety first, though. Can’t have you getting bit, after all.”

He ends his sentence with a cheeky smile. Mikleo can’t help but wonder how he can smile in this dangerous situation.

In the end, he doesn’t get a choice in this matter. Magpie picks him up in a fireman’s lift with ease, using a running start before running and jumping up onto the building opposite the school. He runs along the rooftops, bridging the gaps with jumps Mikleo can’t imagine a normal person making. It’s only a matter of minutes before he drops Mikleo off on the balcony of his family’s bakery, where the trapdoor leads down into Mikleo’s room.

“How did you know this is my house?” Mikleo asks as Magpie sets him down.

The hero gives a loud laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Lucky guess? Anyway, I’d better go. Stay safe!”

With that, Magpie flits off again, leaving Mikleo to watch in a bewilderment.

“Messed that up,” Sorey mutters to himself as he makes his way back toward the school. “I almost completely blew my cover! Of course Mikleo would be the first one I’d bump into…”

Had it been any other situation, Sorey would have told Mikleo everything right away. After all, this is something they could both enthuse over, sharing their amazement at the existence of superpowers and heroes and ancient earrings with magical birds living inside of them. In the end, though, there’s no way he can say anything. Zaveid made as much clear earlier, when he told Sorey about the Miraculous.

“Oh, but you can’t tell anyone,” he said, his face growing serious only then. “Not your mum, not your girlfriend, no one.”

Sorey didn’t know how to tell Zaveid that his mum is dead and that he doesn’t have - or want - a girlfriend. He got the gist, though, and that’s why he knows not to tell Mikleo.

Still, he can’t help but feel a little more comfortable, now that’s over. At least he can rest assured that Mikleo is safe at home. Now he can focus fully on fighting the akuma.

He makes his way back to the school, glad to see that the snake has remained within the courtyard. It fumes with rage, but Sorey tries not to think too much about that. If he stands a chance of beating this thing, he’ll do better if he doesn’t worry about how angry it looks.

The only problem now is that he has no idea how to take this thing down. Sure, he has a weapon, though it’s a magical recorder, which Sorey doesn’t even know how to play, let alone how to use in close combat. The only other thing he knows he can do is summon a lucky item, but there’s no guarantee it will be of any use either.

As he watches the creature tear down another pillar, though, he knows there’s no other option.

Lifting the recorder to his lips, his hands somehow know exactly what to do. He plays a short tune, a ball of light forming at the base of the instrument. Then he throws that light into the sky and cries, “Lucky charm!”

The light grows above him, twisting and forming into an unrecognisable shape before disappearing. At the same time as it disappears, a book falls from the sky into his hand.

“A book?” he says, frowning as he examines the cover. It looks like a school-issued textbook, though he has no idea why this is going to be of any use.

“You!” a voice cries before he can figure it out.

Sorey stows the book in his belt, hoping it won’t slip out, and turns his attention to the akuma. Since it’s noticed him by now, there’s no way he can hide. All he can do is fight.

“Hey, snake face!” Sorey yells to it. “What’s got your tail in a twist?”

“People like you!” Uroboros says, lashing out at the pillar supporting the roof where Sorey stands. He barely manages to escape before it crumbles, running along the roof as the snake follows, pushing every pillar it sees to the ground. “People who have no consideration! Brats like you need to be taught a lesson, and that’s what I will do!”

(Uroboros, in his anger, almost does not hear the voice in his head, reminding him of his duty. When he hears it, though, he hisses, knowing his duty and vowing to obey.)

“Pretty dangerous lesson,” Sorey says, hopping over to a nearby tree. “Does it really need to involve so much destruction?”

“There is no better way,” the snake says. “But your lesson will be different. Before I can punish you, I must have those earrings!”

Sorey sighs. Of course this is how things would turn out. “Isn’t stealing pretty inconsiderate? How ironic.”

He hops out of the tree, moving along lampposts and other trees, using roofs as leverage as Uroboros follows, destroying everything he touches. Sorey can’t help but worry how long all this will take to fix.

Still, as he runs, his head spins with options. He needs to figure out a plan, some way to use this book, or to trap the akuma victim-

That’s it!

He changes his course, setting off in the direction of the school once more. “Bet you can’t catch me!”

Uroboros, as expected, follows in a blind rage, entering the school courtyard through the side, the only area not blocked by pillars. Sorey then runs around the debris, hopping onto the roof supported by the last remaining pillars.

“You will be taught a lesson!” the snake cries out, lashing out at the pillars.

As expected, the pillars crumble. Sorey barely manages to hop away before the roof falls with them, a crash of dust and debris falling to the ground. With all the exits blocked off, Uroboros can only cry out in frustration as Sorey remains out of his reach.

There’s no time to celebrate, though. Before he can even wonder what to do next, his earrings beep at him, reminding him of something else he’d forgotten: time.

Zaveid's voice floats through his mind, a reminder of their earlier conversation. “If you use your power, you’ll only have five minutes until you transform back. We kwamis can’t keep up for longer than that.”

He groans. Even if he has the villain cornered, of course he’s going to run into another complication. And all for the sake of a book he doesn’t know the use of.

Pulling the book out from his belt, he begins to sift through the pages, ignoring how the snake man yells at him from below. He doesn’t hear when the snake man grips the debris, trying to climb up the wall to reach him.

Sorey reaches the last page. Uroboros reaches the edge of the roof.

Someone suddenly plucks the book from Sorey’s hands and throws it at the snake, making him fall down once more.

When Sorey looks up, his heart stops. In front of him stands a boy painted in white, with fluffy cloud-like hair and a white super suit not unlike his own. Two pointed ears pop up from between tufts of hair. His left wrist bears a bracelet of gold, with a small aquamarine jewel embedded within it.

Perhaps the most intriguing thing about him are his eyes, hidden behind a white mask, a vibrant violet against his pale palette. The colour extends to the sclera, covering what would usually be white in a pale lilac hue.

Sorey’s first thought is, ‘I’m in love.’

His second is, ‘This guy is like me.’

“Aren’t you reckless,” the stranger says, regarding him with a judging gaze. “You should pay more attention to your surroundings.”

Sorey barely manages to snap put of his stupor to give a response. “I- uh- thanks?”

The stranger's lips curl up a little, and he turns away. “Go and rest up, and come back once you’re done. I can hold this thing off for now.”

The beeping in Sorey's ears reminds him that he ought to hurry in doing so. Before he leaves, however, he asks, “Who are you?”

The hero looks over his shoulder at him, his gaze steady as he answers. “Luzrov.”

The name tingles sweetly on Sorey’s lips, and he can’t help but smile when he repeats it. “Luzrov. Thanks, I’ll be back!”

He rushes off, feeling his energy soar at the thought of having someone like Luzrov at his side.

Mikleo isn’t entirely sure how his day has gotten to this point. He’s a little under the impression that he’ll wake up at some point, finding this all to be a dream.

The too-real feeling of fear as he stands near the snake akuma, alone, is enough to tell him that this is actually happening.

Once Magpie dropped him off at home, he rushed back into his room, turning on the computer in his room and waiting impatiently for the live news stream to load. As he tapped his foot, he noticed a jewellery box sitting on his desk where he knew it hadn’t been this morning.

Long story short, that jewellery box is what got him here. Who’d have thought, when he woke up this morning, that he’d be a superhero by afternoon?

Of course, he’d been entirely disbelieving, at first. It had taken a solid ten minutes for his kwami, Lailah, to calm him down, speaking carefully to get him to understand the situation. She went through everything she could with him, though there were certain things she couldn’t answer due to lack of knowing, and other things she wouldn’t answer, for reasons Mikleo did not know.

In any case, he has the gist of it, and now he’s here.

Fighting an akuma.

Alone, apparently.

Well, not entirely alone. Magpie will come back. All Mikleo has to do is wait until he has rested enough. It should be easy to keep the snake man trapped until then.

Except the snake is stronger than he anticipates. By the time Magpie leaves, Uroboros has carved away a chunk of the debris surrounding the courtyard, trying to dig his way out. Mikleo springs into action, running over to that side of the roof and using his staff to whack the snake away from the new exit.

A moment later, the snake swipes out at him, throwing him to the other side.

“Another brat!” he yells. “You will be taught a lesson, all of you! But not before I take your Miraculous!”

“You’re not taking anything of mine,” Mikleo says through gritted teeth, forcing himself back onto his feet. “And you’re not getting away, either! I can’t have you destroying Pendrago just because of your anger.”

“Oh? You think you can stop me?” Uroboros hisses. In a flash, he makes his way toward him, giving him only seconds to jump back onto the roof.

Still, it’s not quite safe yet. Uroboros swipes at the wall supporting the roof, causing that part of the roof to crumble under Mikleo’s feet. It’s all he can do to jump at the last second, scurrying away from the falling chunks, trying to find stable land.

“Hurry up, Magpie,” he mutters, his heart freezing as the snake lashes out at the wall beneath him.

“Grape mille-feuille? Seriously?”

Zaveid nods with a serious expression, though the effect is dampened by how exhausted he looks. His antenna droops from lack of energy. “Yup. Best thing for getting back energy, don’t you think?”

“Are you sure you can’t eat anything else?” Sorey asks, glancing at the kwami where he rests in his bag. “There aren’t many bakeries that sell something so fancy, you know.”

“Come on, there has to be somewhere around here,” Zaveid says. “And you can’t complain about the price. I saw your house. You’re loooooooaded, kid.”

“Just because my family has money doesn’t mean I can magic up fancy sweets at your whim,” Sorey mutters.

Seriously, he never would have guessed kwamis would be such hard work. Sure, he’s worried. He doesn’t want Zaveid to be low on energy for too long, but they’re kind of running on a time limit, here.

Glancing around himself, he sees that most of the stores nearby are closed, shutters down over the doors and windows. That much is to be expected, of course - this is the first time an attack like this has happened. It could destroy anything and anyone. This way things are much safer. It does make it more difficult to find a bakery that is still open, though.

The only one he can think of that might let him in is-

“Oh, that’s it!”

Sorey rushes down the street, turning a corner and heading in a direction he knows all too well.

“What, you found someplace?” Zaveid asks.

“My best friend’s family runs a bakery,” Sorey explains. “They make all kinds of sweets. I wouldn’t be surprised if they make your fancy grape things, too!”

It only takes a minute to reach the bakery, which thankfully doesn’t have its doors locked. He rushes in, the bell chiming above his head as he does. Muse looks up from the counter when he enters, her eyes widening.

“Sorey?” she says. “What are you doing here? Are you looking for Mikleo?”

“Not this time,” he says. “Do you by any chance make grape mille-feuille?”

“Yes, we do,” Muse says, her eyebrows drawn inward.

Catching a glimpse of his bag, Sorey sees Zaveid flash a quick thumbs-up, and he nods at Muse. “That’s perfect. Could I get one, please?”

As Muse bags up the treat, she says, “Isn’t this a strange time to be looking for sweets?”

“I guess,” he says. “Oh, speaking of Mikleo, though, did he make it home safe?”

Her hand freezes on the tongs, and she lays them down. “I haven’t seen him. I thought I heard the roof trapdoor open, but he wasn’t there when I went up to check on him.”

Fear strikes Sorey’s heart. If Mikleo isn’t here, then where could he be? This is exactly where he left him, after all. And how could he have left the house again without Muse noticing? And why would he?

All this worrying is making his head hurt.

He quickly pays for the mille-feuille, thanking Muse, before rushing out of the bakery again, this time with a new sense of urgency. He needs to get back and help Luzrov, before it finds Mikleo, or anyone else it could hurt.

At Pendrago castle, Uroboros pulls down a tree without mercy. Mikleo hops out of its branches, leaping between lampposts and praying he won’t catch up. There aren’t many civilians around, at the very least. Most of them seem to have left when the news alerts were broadcasted, though a couple of stragglers scream their way away from the akuma as it approaches. It’s lucky Mikleo is as fast on his feet as he is now, or else he’d have no chance of distracting Uroboros long enough to give them time to escape.

Speaking of luck, he thinks his is starting to wear thin. He's running out of lampposts, and the only other thing nearby that he could possibly use as leverage would be the castle itself. The possibility of this creature damaging such an important historical building makes him feel sick to his stomach, but he supposes he'd rather have that over someone dying because he lured the villain too close to other people.

He braces himself before leaping onto the castle ramparts, running along the walls to reach the main building. Uroboros follows behind, though he can only tell by the sound of its tail slithering over the ground and his angry complaining. He doesn’t dare look back at it, too afraid of what he might see.

Once reaches the main courtyard of the castle, he leads Uroboros in the front, taking him as far into the castle as he can from above. Only once they reach the innermost chamber before the main building does he pause, turning back.

In contrast to the destruction outside of it, the castle itself is entirely undamaged. Not a single brick lays out of place, not a dent within them. Uroboros doesn’t even try to strike out at the walls around him, where Mikleo has him almost cornered.

“It’s not attacking,” he murmurs in amazement. “But why?”

“Maybe because he’s a history teacher.”

Mikleo jumps in surprise at the sudden reappearance of Magpie, who stands a few feet away, holding the forgotten textbook.

“How do you figure?” he asks once he gets over the sudden shock, ignoring the mischievous grin which spreads across Magpie’s lips at his reaction.

“This is a history textbook,” Magpie says, flipping it open to a chapter entitled The Era of Asgard. “I looked through it earlier. It's really fascinating stuff, and that has to be the reason why he won’t damage the castle.”

“What, because he cares about history? I suppose it makes sense, but then you have to wonder how he became akumatised in the first place.”

Magpie shrugs. “I think he was angry at his students.”

Looking back at Uroboros, Mikleo squints, trying to see through blue scales to the face underneath. Something clicks for him a moment later.

“It can’t be – Professor Uno?!”

The snake yells in anger. “I am Uno no longer! My name is Uroboros, and I will punish all those who do not listen!”

“You know this guy?” Magpie asks.

“He’s an acquaintance,” Mikleo answers. “But that answers one question. Now all we have to do is purify him, right?”

“Yeah!”

A long moment of silence passes between the two of them. Then, hesitantly, Magpie says, “How do we do that?”

In that moment, the amount that Mikleo was impressed by Magpie goes down exponentially.

“Didn’t you talk to your kwami before transforming?” he says.

“O-of course I did!” he sputters. “He wasn’t exactly specific about methodology, though. All I know is that we need to find the thing that was infected by the akuma and destroy it.”

“So like a trinket of some kind?”

“Yeah. Glasses, a bag, anything that’s part of his personal effects that was there before he turned.”

Mikleo turns to look at Uroboros once more. He looks so different from when he was human that Mikleo can’t really tell what’s new and what he had on him already. All he notices that looks suspicious is the snake around his neck which looks almost like the blue tie he’d worn earlier in class.

“Do you think it might be his tie?” Mikleo asks.

Magpie hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Might be. It’d be worth a shot, right?”

“Well sure, but we still have to get close enough to break it.”

“Time for some close combat, I guess,” Magpie says, moving to the edge of the roof. “You up for it?”

“It’s not like there’s any other choice.” Mikleo moves to stand at Magpie’s side, looking out over the castle where the akuma lies. “If you distract it, I might be able to destroy the tie using my power.”

“You can destroy things?” Magpie asks, wide-eyed. “That’s so cool!”

Mikleo rolls his eyes at the praise. “You can create things from thin air. I’m just doing my part, too.”

They both turn back to face the akuma victim, and on the count of three, they drop down, ready to fight.

“I’ll distract it,” Magpie says before calling out to Uroboros. “Hey, snake-face! Over here!”

When the distraction works, Mikleo takes his chance. He rushes around the side of the snake, watching out for its tail as he swipes it at Magpie. He pulls out his staff and extends it, quickly thinking through the logistics of how this thing might work in their favour.

“Gotta try harder than that!” Magpie yells at Uroboros, flitting out of his reach again. He glances over in Mikleo’s direction, waiting for a signal.

Mikleo gulps. This is all on him - if their plan fails, it’ll be his fault.

All he can do is try.

He raises a hand in a claw and summons his power. “Cataclysm!”

A tingling sensation fills his hand, a buzz of darkness swarming around the white glove of his suit. He holds it out of the way as he uses his other hand to hold the staff, extending it beneath him to push himself into the air. As he jumps over Uroboros, he reaches his other hand down, his fingers grazing the edge of the tie.

It’s enough to do the job. The snake-shaped tie hisses as it crumples into dust. A purple blob of energy comes out of it, floating slowly upward. Before either of them can do anything, it suddenly grows larger, collecting in a giant mass above them, forming into the shape of a lion’s head.

“Listen well,” it says in a low, deep rumble. “I am Calamity. I cannot be stopped or quelled, and I will without doubt take those Miraculous of yours. I will cause chaos in this city. Weaklings like you will not stop me. You might as well hand them over right now.”

Mikleo glares at the lion’s head, ready to answer, but Magpie steps out before he can say anything.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Magpie says. He stands tall and confident, even against the threat of a supervillain. “You can try as much as you like to cause destruction, but Luzrov and I will always be here to stop you. There’s no way you’ll be having our Miraculous. So just wait, Calamity. You’ll be the one giving yours up, and then this city will be brought to peace again.”

When Magpie looks over his shoulder at Mikleo, he steps forward, joining him at his side.

“That’s right,” he says.

“Fools,” Calamity says. “You will pay the price for your idiocy.”

Magpie smirks, then using his weapon, he jumps up and cuts through the ball of malevolence, purifying it with a single strike. The akuma is the only remnant, which he quickly purifies with a short melody. Then he tosses his lucky charm book into the air. A flame-like substance spreads from it, reaching endlessly over the sky for a moment, fixing everything that was broken by the fight.

The moment ends, and the city is brought to peace once more.

“Okay, that was pretty incredible,” Mikleo says, turning to his new partner in fighting crime. He holds up a fist. “Nice job.”

Magpie grins before bumping their wrists together. “Nice job, Luzrov. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

At that moment, Mikleo’s bracelet decides to beep at him, warning him of his time limit. “Well, I’d better go. See you soon, Magpie.”

With that, Mikleo uses his staff to move to higher ground, ready to get back home and finally rest.

(He doesn’t notice how Magpie watches as he goes, eyes filled with a fondness which seems far too great for people who have only just met. And yet, the warmth in his heart indicates that this bond will only become stronger, and he can’t wait to see his new partner again.)

It’s only natural that Mikleo is exhausted, the next morning.

When he got home last night, he barely said a greeting to his mother before collapsing into bed, passing out quickly from all the excitement of the previous hours. He wakes up not long before his alarm, starving and still aching from the fight yesterday. The sound of raindrops on his window soothes him a little, but not enough to make him feel any better physically.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a small voice says.

He turns his head to see Lailah on his pillow, smiling at him. She doesn’t look at all tired, and he supposes she must have gotten herself something to eat whilst he slept.

“Morning, Lailah,” he says. “So it wasn’t a dream, huh?”

Lailah gives a little laugh. Her tail flicks on the pillow. “No, it was real. You both did a wonderful job, yesterday.”

“Will that happen often?” he asks, uncertain. Even if he has this power now, knowing that the city will be in danger is concerning.

“Yes,” Lailah says, her ears drooping. “I’m afraid Calamity will not stop until the city is covered in chaos. Only you and Magpie have the power to stop him.”

He lets out a deep breath through his nose. When he signed up to this yesterday, he had no idea how serious this would become. And yet, he can’t bring himself to regret his decision, when he thinks about the number of people he saved yesterday.

Sitting up, he says, “I suppose I’d better do my best from here on out, then. I’ll be counting on you, Lailah.”

Floating up to his side, Lailah’s eyes are filled with hope. “I have every faith that you’ll make a wonderful Luzrov, Mikleo.”

He gets ready for school as usual, feeling a tad less reluctant than yesterday. When he heads downstairs for breakfast, his mother greets him with her usual smile. Somehow, today she looks more tired than yesterday. She stays quiet as he comes in, watching him as he pours his cereal for himself. He’s glad his bracelet is covered by his blazer, since he can only imagine the questions he’d get for having it.

Eventually, his mother speaks.

“Where were you yesterday?” she says. “During that attack, we were so worried for you. We heard you come in, but you weren’t there when we checked.”

Mikleo tries not to let his thoughts show on his face when he thinks, ‘Oh crap.’

“I forgot something at school,” Mikleo lies. “It was my phone. I couldn’t leave it there.”

Muse’s expression only becomes more distraught at his answer. “I thought you had more common sense than that. Wasn’t that monster at the school?”

“It wasn’t there when I got back,” Mikleo says. “I won’t do it again though, I promise.”

For a moment, she keeps up the pretence of being angry with him. She can’t hold it forever, though, and she ends up moving over to hug him tightly.

“You’d better not,” she says.

Mikleo hopes he’ll be able to hide it better in the future, or else this superhero business will be a lot tougher than he thought it would be.

Once he finishes breakfast and gathers his stuff, he says goodbye to his mum and heads out of the bakery house. The rain falls lightly on his head, cool and refreshing. He doesn’t have an umbrella, but that hasn’t stopped him from walking in the rain before. He might be soaked by the time he reaches school, of course, but he tries not to think about that.

Stepping away from the bakery door, he moves out onto the pavement-

Only to find that the rain suddenly stops.

Well, it doesn’t stop completely. He can see it falling in front of him, and can hear it pattering on the umbrella over his head. Sure enough, there’s now a stretch of clear plastic above his head, an umbrella held out by none other than-

“Sorey?!”

Sorey stands behind him, holding out the umbrella as the rain dampens his hair, running down his silver earcuffs and onto the shoulders of a brown cardigan, emblazoned with a familiar coat of arms.

“Morning, Mikleo,” Sorey says. His smile and the fondness in his eyes are warm enough to make Mikleo shiver.

Mikleo finds for a long moment that he can’t speak, his throat constricted by some unknown force. When he finally finds words, he says, “What are you wearing?”

In a teasing tone, Sorey says, “What does it look like I’m wearing?”

“Did you actually convince your dad?” Mikleo asks in disbelief. “How?”

“Turns out sneaking out of the house to go to school is a good way to make strict parents believe you want to go to school,” Sorey says with a shrug. “I dunno, though. When I got home Runette told me he’d said it was okay.”

Mikleo’s heart stutters. Somehow, everything he’d wanted is coming true. Magic is real, life is looking up, and his best friend will be in the same class as him from now on.

He couldn’t be happier.

“We should get going, or we’ll be late,” Mikleo says, pushing the umbrella so it shelters them both. The proximity between them strikes pins and needles into his arm, but he doesn’t shy away.

Instead, he walks at Sorey’s side towards his - their - school.

#sormikweek2018 #sormik #tales of zestiria #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #HI I LOVE THIS AU #this fic took so long to write though #why is the origins part so difficult and long ughghggh #i've written like three different reveals and combined they're all shorter than this oneshot

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notesfromthefielddesk · 3 years

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Episode 6 - Tsing part 1

Episode link; https://open.spotify.com/episode/3x0cMRYDmN5M8lDCZIZxEK?si=07ec23a2d8ac485e

The sound of a temple bell is heard in the cedar forest at dusk,

The autumn aroma drifts on the roads below.

The moving cloud fades away, and I smell the aroma of the mushroom.

Oh Matsutake:

The excitement before finding them.

This episode isn’t about Japan. It’s not about Mushrooms. It’s about living in our own mess, it’s about international relations, it’s about capitalist trading. But the same way we can trace politics through cows, or social relations through cockfights, the art of anthropology is in noticing the small things which might teach us more. In the face of global capitalism a mushroom might seem humble but that is what Anna Tsing would call a problem with scale, because as the most valuable mushroom in the world it couldn’t be further from ‘humble.’

This is notes from the field desk

(Theme)

(Sounding sleepy)

It’s about, ummm quarter to five. I’m in Tsukiji whole-sale market in Tokyo. I’m maybe jet-lagged but that would make it like 9pm to me and actually I feel significantly worse than that. I’m here this early because the auction runs from around 5am to six fifteen. Whilst the market is famous for its tuna auctions, if you’ve seen Jiro Dreams of Sushi then you’ve seen the market and it’s ginormous frozen tuna, but they also sell mushrooms here. This market is in fact so famous they had to ban tourists on several occasions. Thankfully it’s not currently one of those times,i’m sat in the tourist section, i’m in the back because of the desk and well because the guards said I was a disruptive influence.

I’m paraphrasing he actually said “move it, Deku” before shoving my desk to the back. My translation app couldn’t really figure out Deku so if anyone could help me out with the meaning? It doesn’t really matter, seen as almost everyone is here for the Tuna, I have a pretty clear view of the auctioneers arranging matsutake on a trestle table. The staff are wearing, what kind of look like, bowling shirts (kind of questioning) and baseball caps which have a little board on the front which have some kanji which I can’t read. Really someone else should have come on this trip.

This is maybe petty but to be honest now I’m doing this because I have to, i’m not enjoying it as much. Is there something wrong with me? Anyway that’s a discussion for another time.

They are organising the mushrooms by, size, value and origin. These mushrooms have probably been sorted at least twice before by value but origin has a significant impact on their eventual sale price. As one Japanese importer explained to Anna Tsing “Matsutake are like people, American mushrooms are white, because the people are white. Chinese mushrooms are black, because the people are black. Japanese people and mushrooms are nicely in between.” Okay, I recognise that we’ve gotten slightly ahead of ourselves here. How does a mushroom come to cost between 1000 and 2000 dollars per pound?

Matsutake first appears in a poem from 8th century Japan which praises it’s smell which would go on to become synonymous with Autumn in Japan. The mushroom had started popping up around Kyoto and Nara, areas which had been deforested for timber and fuel. In fact, deforestation is the reason why matsutake became common in Japan. This is because these mushrooms have a symbiotic relationship with red pine trees. Red pines tend to grow most successfully in mineral rich soil left by deforestation and could grow more easily without the shade from broadleaf trees which had been cut down.

This is the start of Anna Tsing’s interest in these mushrooms, not because she’s just really into foraging, although she is, but because of what they symbolise, think Geertz. In the wake of capitalist ruin, here read deforestation, this mushroom thrived. This is so generally understood about Matsutake that people say the first thing to grow after the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima was a Matsutake.

Written in the wake of the 2008 financial crash and with the results of climate change becoming undeniable Tsing wants to find a way that people can pull off the same trick. And she found a parallel in the forests of Oregon, but that is for next week.

So how does a mushroom you literally find in the trash become the most expensive fungus in the world? Well by 1900 in Japan it had become the culturally ubiquitous idea of Autumn. Think lambs in spring or incredibly drunk, sunburnt bald men with a union jack tattoos and British summer. Matsutake were everywhere, in Kyoto, they became the generic term for mushroom. So far, so cheap commodity right? But then in the 50s people stopped using wood as their main fuel, woodland was cut down and paved for suburban development, broadleaf trees grew back and in the shaded forest, Matsutake started to disappear. By the 1970s Japanese Matsutake were incredibly rare. This coincided with rapid Japanese economic development. The culturally significant and now rare mushroom became gifts, bribes and perks for businessmen. Consequently the price skyrocketed.

Huge demand but limited supply in Japan meant the international market suddenly gained importance. And non-Japanese mushroom pickers from around the world flooded into the market.

Oh hold on the auction is starting. I wanna see if I can buy one.

Umm I have no idea what is happening.

Excuse me. Nope ignored.

Umm.

Hello.

13,000 yen!

(Awkward silence. Fade out.)

Okay so umm, I won the auction. Is that how you say it? But I bought one mushroom for 120 dollars and then they asked me to leave. So we’re set up in a cafe outside the market. If you’re wondering, yes, the guy who has been following me is here.

Hi mate. You alright? Cool.

He was in the auction too but I've decided to live and let live. In part because of what i’ve learned from reading Tsing.

I guess uhh lets see what the fuss about this mushroom is about.

Smells mushroom nervously

Yep smells like dirt. Cool. What am I going to do with this now?

Okay smells like dirt. Great. That’s 120 dollars for some dirt. I don’t even like mushrooms what the fuck am I doing. Okay, I guess we should talk about isolation and contamination which is where Tsing starts to get confusing, so, sorry about that. I can really understand why the students don’t get it and I think if the last few weeks have proven anything it’s that the students seem to understand anthropology better than I do. But I’ve done the reading and I've got notes so let’s give it a shot.

Tsing says capitalism is based on a growth and progress model. Wow, we’re off the rails already. In other words, and I'm not an economist so don’t @ me, the health of an individual, company and nation under capitalism are measured by their ability to generate more than they did previously. The aim is for GDP to grow, for company profits to increase, individuals to earn more etc. One way to achieve this end is to focus on scalability. Which is the ability to create more of the same product without changing the product. This is often achieved through isolation.

Yikes this episode is like “dictionary corner.” For isolation think of old Henry Ford and his assembly line. Instead of 5 guys working on every aspect of a car, the assembly line isolates each component and has one person make that part. Now you can make lots of cars quickly. Take this podcast, I write it, record it, edit it, and upload it. If I hired a writer, an editor and a social media person. I could just record the episodes and we could all be working simultaneously, produce more podcasts, get more listeners, then maybe this podcast could generate a profit.

Good news right? More of everything is made more quickly for less money, which means we can all have a car. Or a podcast. But Tsing sees some problems. She takes a different example of scalability. Portugese sugar plantations in Brazil. Sugar cane was grown by splitting a sugar cane and sticking it in the ground. Functionally it was a clone brought from New Guinea and planted in Brazil. As a farming product it couldn’t be more isolated. Unlike a matsutake say, which can’t be scaled because it grows almost by random in relation to the soil and the trees around it, the sugar cane has no relationship to its surroundings.

Now let's talk about the farm workers. Sugar plantation workers were slaves brought from west Africa to Brazil. Like the sugar cane they were isolated with no social relations in Brazil which prevented escape. This is why slave traders split families, social and cultural groups. Their alienation and isolation made them a controllable, standardized workforce. Portugal made huge profits from this and could keep the uncomfortable effects hidden, seen as the whole project took place in west Africa and south America, far away from the Portugese eyes. This is maybe the first example of what academics call “space-time distanciation” I know what the fuck is distanciation other than a great way to be the most hated person at a dinner party or the pub.

Basically it’s just a bullshit way to say doing things from far away but in real time. So like ugh I don’t know, (Rising anger) a kid in America can snipe you on COD and call you a homophobic slur and you experience it as it happens even though he’s thousands of miles away. And however much you threaten him he won’t experience any consequences because he’s far away and you’re thirty and trash at shooters. (awkward pause) Not a real thing that happened to me, just a random example.

So this scalability and distanciation were created and spread around the world by European colonists but it was Japanese markets which modernised the idea. In the 60s to the 80s Japan actually gave American economic dominance a little scare because of its shift to outsourcing. Instead of Japanese companies making products in Japan where labour was expensive they made products abroad where labour was cheap and took advantage of increasingly speedy global supply lines to turn huge profits.

Matsutake picking is an example of this which we’ll talk about more next time but in short, casual workers pick and sell them for a fraction of their market value in America, the middle men then transport it to Japan where it’s market and cultural value is increased and sell it for a huge profit.

Another example would be fast fashion. Everyone remembers the scandals when it came out that gap or nike or primark had their clothes made in terrible conditions. A lot of brands defended themselves by saying they had no idea about the conditions. To an extent this is true, but it was deliberate ignorance. They put their production in the hands of intermediary companies in countries far away from their shareholders, employees and customers creating plausible deniability.

There is another problem which is obvious really. Scale can only go so far, which is until all the resources are gone. Then the project has to move on and do something else. Think of Japan after they had cut down all the trees. Or if you really want to depress yourself, fossil fuels.

Okay, okay what’s the point! Tsing says all this stuff, the distanciation, the scalability, the obsession with more profits, the isolation is the cause of the precarious lives more and more people are experiencing. Think of zero hours contracts, or uber driving or amazon workers pissing in bottles. It’s easy to cut wages, to allow bad working conditions, to strip mine the rainforest when we are distanced from the consequences. So long as it happens somewhere else, to someone else, when we have no relationship with the products we consume, or create. Think of the podcast again. If I hired all these people it would be more efficient but then I wouldn’t have the same relationship with it. I would become alienated from it. That’s how little by little people have less of an understanding of the things around them. That’s how we can separate the petrol we put in our cars from the environmental damage that doing that causes.

Wow. Depressing. Jesus. Remember when this show used to be about cows and magic?

(sigh)

Taking things seriously sucks. Okay but Tsing reckons that by looking at these expensive mushrooms there is hope. Capitalism can make us feel lonely but looking at Matsutake reminds us that even in capitalist ruins like a destroyed forest new things can grow. Those things grow from relationships, the encounter between the mushroom and the pine tree and the soil from deforestation. It’s a reminder that we aren’t actually alone that there aren’t any “challenges we might face without asking for help from others, human or not human.” Through relationships we change and Tsing says “The important stuff of life on earth happens in those transformations.” So you know, join your union, talk to your neighbour, forage for mushrooms. It might just make the world better. And if it doesn’t, well at least you have some friends and mushrooms. Wait did i just say join a union? Am I woke? Must be the jet lag.

Time for the extract;

How does a gathering become a happening, that is, greater than the sum of its parts? One answer is contamination. We are contaminated by our encounters; they change who we are as we make way for others. As contamination changes world making projects, mutual worlds - and new directions - may emerge. Everyone carries a history of contamination; purity is not an option. One value of keeping precarity in mind is that it makes us remember that changing with circumstances is the stuff of survival.

But what is survival? In popular American fantasies, survival is all about saving oneself by fighting off others. The “survival” featured in U.S. television shows or alien-planet stories is a synonym for conquest and expansion. I will not use the term that way. Please open yourself to another usage. This book argues that staying alive - for every species - requires livable collaborations. Collaboration means working across differences, which leads to contamination. Without collaborations, we all die.

The problem of precarious survival helps us see what is wrong. Precarity is the state of acknowledgement of our vulnerability to others. In order to survive, we need help and help is always the service of another, with or without intent. When I sprain my ankle, a stout stick may help me walk and I enlist its assistance. I am now an encounter in motion, a woman and stick. It is hard for me to think of any challenge I might face without soliciting the assistance of others, human and not human. It is unselfconscious privilege that allows us to fantasize - counter factually - that we survive alone.

How do you conclude something as complicated as this? Okay how about this. Often you’ll hear people talking about capitalist alienation and it’s not really clear what that means. I think what Tsing is saying is that capitalism wants people to be individualised. That way labour can be scaled up, because the products aren’t related to the context that they are made in. So you can make a ford car in a factory in Detroit or Dhaka and the product will be the same. But Tsing is giving us a warning and a reminder that we aren’t individuals. That we have a relationship with everything around us and forgetting this can destroy our surroundings. This means humans and non-humans too! If we’re going to survive late capitalism and climate change we have to re-engage in these relationships.

#anthropology #foraging #mushrooms #matsutake #japan #arts #arts and entertainment #podcast #society #tsing

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power-rings · 7 years

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Bound to my End: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Investigation

“Nothing? Are you sure, buddy?” The hero tapped his foot in frustration, and glanced over at his two-tailed kitsune brother, before scanning Eggman’s empty base. Why in the world did he just abandon everything? There was no sight of his mechs left behind - at least any that were completed. The only machines the pair noticed in the base were apparently just a pile of failed projects he has been working on for God only knows how long. Other than that, there was no trace left behind of where the evil scientist might have gone. It concerned Sonic that as they were checking out his crib, Eggman may have been wreaking havoc upon another part of the world.

“Nothing, Sonic.” Tails confirmed, eyes scanning his surroundings and then back on his friend. He ran a hand through his bangs, giving an exhausted sigh. “I think Eggman actually moved to another location.” They both knew when Eggman typically moved he was gonna work on something bigger than before, and had almost cost one of their lives. It left them feeling on edge, as they made their way back to the Tornado to head home. “He’ll show up eventually, Sonic. He usually does.” Tails sounded a bit cranky, after being woken up by Sonic around 5am in the morning to search Eggman’s base. Ontop of that, he was beyond ready to sit down for a hearty breakfast.

In another part of the world, Eggman was proving the heroes suspicion correct. He had his mechs working everyday on the construction of his new base. It was going to be bigger and better, so was his upcoming plans to conquer the world once in for all. With the basement already laid out, Eggman begun working on his blueprints while he ran a computer displaying how to create a lifeform narrated by none other than his grandfather Gerald Robotnik. It took hours to bypass the G.U.N lock on the information, “the password was changed?!” he realized, cursing his fingers stabbed at the keys in rage. His determination paid off and he hacked through all the protected files. Eggman mumbled that he should have the rights to his grandfather’s things, anyway. Of course, G.U.N did not see it that way.

Eggman was growing extremely tired of facing defeat in the hands of Sonic and his friends. He could not understand how a small hedgehog could defeat him year after year. It was time to put an end to this, then finally claim the world as his. With the influence of his late grandfather’s capability of creating Shadow the Hedgehog and what exactly Shadow could do. However, Eggman wanted to create something.... stronger. Was it possible? Of course, he had and even created further advanced technology than Prof.Gerald had throughout his life. Shivering, his mind wondered off. Grandfather is probably turning in his grave right now. Eggman wasn’t going to doubt the possibility now. As he watched the progress of his computer monitor, “Hedgehog. Soon you will finally fall to your knees in absolute defeat.�� He vowed, his tone full of malice as he threatened his lifelong nemesis.

The bat frown at her hedgehog teammate, as Shadow read over the report made from the G.U.N headquarters. It felt like it took him ages to read over. Rouge was about to sigh until Shadow placed the laptop on the table before him, and glanced at her. “Well?”

“Well, what? It’s not my concern what sort of mess Eggman gets into.”

Rouge’s lips formed a straight line. “Sure, it is.” She raised her brow, and leaned in closer when noticing that Shadow’s expression never changed. “So, it doesn’t bother you that he is going through your own creator’s files? None whatsoever?” She saw the hedgehog shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

“Yes and no.” Shadow leaned forward, his gaze not meeting hers. Instead, it was focused on the document that Rouge had presented earlier. “We don’t know his true intentions,” Rouge gave him a matter-of-fact look, which was unnoticed by him. “However, I do not think he would be successful in creating a lifeform like Prof.Gerald accomplished.”

“Hm.” Rouge felt indifferent about the whole situation. “What if he does?” Shadow’s crimson eyes met hers. It wasn’t that she doubted her friend’s judgement of the predicament, but as a team they needed to be ready if they had to face whatever Eggman was able to accomplish. They all knew that Eggman saw their team as a threat after betraying him previously, he had a bone to pick with them.

“The only way we can: we will fight.” This earned a grin from Rouge, she liked that about Shadow, never was the type to give up. All of their skills combined is what holds the team together.

“I say we should give Eggman a visit. See what he’s working on.” Rouge declared the next mission.

“G.U.N suggestion, I assume?”

She frowned. He saw right through her. “...Damnit, Shadow.” The edge of his mouth twitched into a faint grin. “I mean, of course they do. If they came rushing into his base they’d be a goner, and there goes any evidence as well.”

“We have a problem on our hands, though.”

“Eggman moved to another base.” The pair confirmed in unison. Rouge laughed it off. “Easy. You’re looking at the greatest treasure hunter, how hard would it be to find an ugly base?” In the meantime, Shadow suddenly stood to his feet. Rouge went silent.

“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s get going.” The two now stood side-by-side. “I’m going to get Omega.” Rouge gave a nod before Shadow disappeared into the basement where Omega preferred to be, apparently. “Omega?” Shadow’s robotic friend answered back with a whirring sound, and approached his teammate. Before Omega could give a remark, “we have a mission. Eggman’s interest in Gerald’s old files has sparked some concern. He is going under-”

“...Prof.Gerald Robotnik creator of “Project:Shadow” - ” Omega remarked in a statistically tone.

“Shut up.”

“Aww, Shadow. Play nice.” Rouge’s voice can be heard as she’s making her way down the flight of stairs to catch up with her teammates. “Eggman has moved to another location, and we figure it’s best to find him before it’s far too late.” The sly bat finished the new report to him. “Think you can help, Omega? We could use you.” She leaned against him.

“...Affirmative. I will assist. Searching...coordinates...”

“Omega, I don’t think-” Rouge smacked Shadow on the arm.

“Location unsuccessful. Begin new search?”

“Uh, how about we search his previous base? Maybe there will be some clues.” Rouge looked hopeful, but quite honestly, she was just ready to spread her wings and begin the search for Dr. Eggman, and discover his next intentions possibly.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the rights to Sonic Forces or its storyline. This is only my version of how it may be.

Hoped you enjoyed it, guys! Chapter 2 will be on it’s way!

#myfanfictions #sonic forces #au

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erraticwriterscanvas-blog · 6 years

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The Girl on the train - Part 1

Chennai Central Railway station, the biggest of its kind that I had ever seen, welcomed me once again. Honestly it was a warm welcome because the station inside was way too hotter than the streets outside. The bustling crowd that spread over the long trench over a mile was no surprise.

Five days ago, when I began my journey to Chennai, I was really excited about travelling all alone. It was my first experience of travelling alone to a city far from mine, and I was thrilled about the feeling of responsibility I would have towards myself and my luggage, the personal space I would get for myself among the thousands of unknowns on the train, the decision making situations where I don’t have to listen to someone else’s commands to choose what I want. Travelling seemed like fun, but it eventually turned boring. I should have carried few novels to read. And what added to the disappointment of excitement turned to boredom was that there was no sign of a girl in my whole compartment. How could there be no Meenamma on ‘The Chennai Express’ ( Meenamma is the female lead character in the movie ‘Chennai Express’ in which hero meets her heroine first on train). A bunch of Tamilians were my travel companions and I had no clue what they spoke about throughout the journey. A good aged Tamilian uncle cleared my confusion about how to reach my destination in Chennai (The only reason why I felt he was good coz he understood fair bit of Hindi, and it wasn’t hard to communicate).

My purpose of visit to Chennai was something I was really proud of; so proud that I told all my friends about it. I was one among the few hundred chosen to appear for an interview at Indian Institute of Technology, Madras (my dream world). I was imagining IIT, when my thoughts were broken by the whistling of train. It had reached ‘The Grand Chennai Central Station’, that I had heard a great deal about. It didn’t look any different from other railway stations at my place, when I stepped out of the coach. I realized how vast it was, when I had to walk ten minutes to make my way through the busy crowd at 5am, and reach the exit. It had 12 stations stretched over one and half mile; and truly deserved to be called ‘MASSIVE’.

I took a breath of relief when I finally got out of that station. A fresh breeze of air felt refreshing, when I closed my eyes. When I opened my eyes, I found myself circled by a bunch of taxi drivers, some trying to grab my hand and my luggage, some cursing each other about who would carry this new boy in town. I didn’t panic because I knew my way to IIT. Firmly holding my luggage, I walked away towards the nearest subway across the road.

It looked a neat city, with clean roads, fast moving vehicles, differently shaped buses, metro rails, restaurants, and obviously busy people. I wanted to explore this city more, but for now I had to go to IIT first. A very polite bus conductor directed me to a bus to IIT. The bus raced on the smooth roads, crossed flyovers and in fifteen minutes I stood before the gate of my heaven that I had dreamt of. A day before I had read an article that said IIT, Madras is 30 cooler than rest of Chennai. I was ready to experience this chill.

The excitement grew every second as I travelled through the roads of IIT. Old rusty buildings hidden behind century-old trees, dense trench of trees where deer and monkeys could be spotted made me think if it was an engineering college or a natural habitat for animals. I told myself ‘may be this is how IITs are’. Instruction boards were at every corner that said interference in the animal’s habitat is punishable. Seriously!! Humans seemed like a worthless creature here compared to animals.

It was 8am when I got down at hostel area and was accommodated into a room, all for myself. I was tired because of last night’s sleepless journey, and my body cried for sleep. But as per timings of IIT, breakfast ended at 9. So I hurried to clean my stinking body. Nothing’s more refreshing than a cold shower in a hot summer morning. I rushed to mess for breakfast.

Unlike my expectations, North-Indian food sucked there. I just stuffed my stomach to quench my hunger, despite the disgusting taste. I stepped out to explore the surroundings. A minute later, I cursed that guy who wrote the article about IIT being cooler than Chennai. It was too humid there. Bathing everyday wasn’t a task of concern, because I got drenched in sweat every hour. I restrained myself from going out and chose to rest in my room.

My entire day was spent in my room, succumbed to my loneliness and boredom, doing nothing. I walked out of my den in the evenings when the place felt rather cooler. Interesting people flocked everywhere (People refers to strictly girls in hot dresses). Most of the students were South-Indian but only North-Indian girls caught my attention for one reason. Hearing a fair skinned girl speak Hindi fluently was captivating. But I couldn’t dare to walk to someone and spark a conversation or the least a formal HeLLO. I was neither as charming as ShahRukh, neither did I have a great physique like Hrithik, nor did I carry my style like Beckham; so there was nothing in me that would make a girl want to talk to me. I had always been bad at starting conversations with God’s favorite gender.

My expectations of this place were going way down, thinking I have to spend my evening just as I spent my morning, bored and alone. But thankfully, I saw something. FOOTBALL!! A bunch of local hostelites were playing football. I got into one of their teams and began the game. Everyone around there was resident of Godavari hostel and majority of them were from Karnataka. Damn, it was hard to communicate during the game coz the only language we both understood was English, and you know that the real emotions are best depicted by the language of my choice; Hindi. We did fairly well, trying to speak and we won the game with our marvelous (totally exaggerated) team effort by 3-1. I bid them bye and promised myself that my evenings are never going to be boring, as long as I am here.

That night, when I lay down on my bed, I felt tired of having done nothing all day. Gazing at the ceiling and the fan, I imagined how my life will be at IIT if I fortunately got in. These hostels, junky north Indian food, vast football playgrounds, world class sports facilities; I would do anything to get here. The next morning was my big day; the day of interview.

I woke up the next morning when sun rays peeking in from the window hit my face. I realized it was only 6am. I sat on my bed erect, and scanned the walls that were scribbled all over. Hand sketches of cartoons, forgettable phone numbers, poems (barely romantic), and hell lot of formulae written on one corner wall. FORMULAE!!! Damn it! I had totally forgotten to prepare for the interview. And in the baffle, before I could prepare something seriously, clock struck 7. I rushed to cleanse myself, masked myself with a strong deodorant that would last all day, stuffed my tummy with slices of bread, and off I go.

Good morning IITM. The morning sun shone bright, while many joggers were returning to their dorms. Group of friends flocked around everywhere, catching up on a morning waali chai, and phone bugs hung around with their phones and earphones on. With a bright smile on face, I got into the bus to find it all empty. Adjusting my trousers and my over sized formal shirt, I struggled to stabilize myself in the moving bus and grabbed a seat. I hated formals, coz I cannot carry them. But you see, these were mandatory for an interview.

In less than five minutes, I was at the mechanical engineering block. What a rusty old building it was, barely visible, hidden behind the trees and little deserted too. I asked myself if I was too early, but it was 8am and that’s when I was asked to appear. I found my way to seminar hall, where everyone else appearing for interview on the same day had gathered. My jaw dropped when I opened the door, seeing that there were no less than 800 students of which only 25 would be selected. For a moment I thought if I had come to the wrong place; may be this wasn’t the place for interview. The instruction plate on the door read clearly “Research interviews, Mechanical Engineering” and my doubt was answered. I looked through people there, some were of my age group and while others seemed to have graduated years ago. To my relief, I heard someone say that Ph.D candidates are also being interviewed on the same day and few of these might be appearing for that. I found a corner seat from where I could have a clear view of the entire place. Only a few were dressed in formals and were trying to not mess up their attire, and clearly they were first timers like me. Others were in shorts and casual Ts.

An hour later, instructions arrived that we had to appear for a screening test before facing the interview. Four hours later, I walked out of the exam hall, with my face doomed in mixed emotions. I flunked the written test. I had least hope of clearing it. Lunch at the cafeteria didn’t seem as bad as breakfast; or perhaps that’s what I felt. Screening test was worse than the lunch served. I ate my food in silence and walked to my dormitory. Dumped myself on the bed, and thought to myself “Was I not good enough for the interview?”. Before I could think of something, I fell asleep, out of the tiredness of the morning.

Evening was same as the day earlier, playing football, stalking at girls around, shopping in the local cloth store, and distracting my mind from the failure of today’s test. A little hope still persisted that I would do better the next day.

Three days flew away in the blink of an eye. I flunked miserably in all three interviews I attended. Actually I did fairly better in the last interview in comparison with the first two. Now it was time for me to pack my baggage and find my way out of this place. In four days, I had fallen so much in love with this place. The peaceful atmosphere here (forgetting the heavy moisture content that made me seat all day), the teaching facilities, students from every corner of the country, unforgettably beautiful and rarely seen north Indian girls; all of it was so alluring that I didn’t want to leave this place. It felt like I belonged to this place, like I always have wanted to be in a place like this. When I got down from the bus at the exit gate, I turned around to have one last glance at the top ranked college of India. That moment I told myself “promise yourself that one day you will walk in through these gates, and never have to leave again.”

Clock tick 6 when I walked into the “Chennai Central Station”. The hustle and bustle in the station added more discomfort besides my disappointment of returning home as a failure. It was peak time and everyone at the station was waiting for Chennai express to arrive. My thoughts were crashed by the announcement of the railway department that the train was delayed by 30 minutes. Karma!! Even the Railways don’t want me to leave Chennai so soon. I had to get myself out of these thoughts of dejection and failure, coz worrying now is no way going to help. And I thought to myself “what could be a better distraction than food”, when my eyes fell on the food truck stationed at a corner. Making my way through the crowd, I reached the menu board.

“Two dosas and a plate of Idlis,” I placed my order.

I was scanning through the menu, looking for something more tasty and spicy, when a girl slammed her hand on the counter.

“Six samosas and pudina chutney. Wait, also add Rasmalai to it. And please make it quick,okay?” She went back to looking at her phone and tapping her feet to the rhythm of the song playing in her ears.

“How bossy!! She could be a little polite. Hogi koi bade baap ki beti” I thought to myself.

My thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the guy at the counter”72 rupees sir. That will be 72 rupeees”

I dug into my pockets for a change, but failed and handed him a 100 rupees note. He gave me 20 back and a five star chocolate, with a smile of gratitude.

“Paise kya tere baap ke ped pe ugte hain. Mann toh karta hai iss chocolate ko tere mooh mein ghusa doon” I thought to myself, but took that chocolate from him, with a made up smile, cursing him within. When I turned, the girl was gone. I turned around but she had disappeared in the crowd. Did she just vanish in a second??

Waiting hall was completely occupied. I managed to find a seat at a corner, and looked at my watch; 6:10pm. What do I do for twenty minutes now? Observe!! Observing people around always had been my best pass time. There were many young people around, in their mid twenties, and they all looked like they knew each other. Everyone was talking to someone around, except me who watched them talking. There was a bunch of girls at the far end, and from their baggage, they looked like they were on a holiday, perhaps on a adventure trip like trekking or camping. Beautiful and rough girls!! Adventure reminded me of the photos I had clicked at IIT, some next to the grazing antelopes, some at the great lake. Never in my life had I shot so many pictures at one place. I smirked thinking “Nature can really inspire you to become a photographer. “

Whistle of the train was loud, and at once the whole waiting hall stood to move. Chennai express had arrived, ten minutes before its delayed schedule time. I picked up my baggage, pulling my trunk; I craned over the crowd to look for the S5 coach.

Coach S5, L 47- Aryan Malhotra; I spotted my name on the reservation chart. I walked in and surprisingly I was the only one in the compartment. Resting my bag, relaxing on my berth, I peeked out of the window to look for water bottle vendor. Adjacent compartments were slowly filling up, but my compartment had only me yet. People of all age group were walking in and out of the coach, and I could hear raw Hyderabadi slang; it felt soothing to my ears to hear Hyderbadi language after so long(four days precisely). But what do I do alone in this empty compartment of mine? Updated my facebook status, tagged a few friends in hilarious posts, wished happy birthday to few others, scrolled through facebook wall, but everything seemed so regular and boring.

A noisy bunch of people entered the coach from one end, perhaps they were a joint family as it had kids, aunties, uncles in their 50’s and a huge huge luggage. One of the kids yelled “45 se 52 wahan hai” and my eyes popped out. No no no,I didn’t want this noisy family in my compartment to ruin my peace. And before I could gulp this fact below my throat, they began filling my compartment. 45,46,48,49,51,52; they filled in all seats; aunties with their heavy sarees were trying to load their baggage on upper birth, while I hardly had place to move my ankle. It felt suffocated sitting amidst them as they tried to figure out seats for each other. Moving out of this family drama, I pulled my bag and sat at the other single window seat, to have my peace time.

“sabko apni jagah milgayi? Aur meri jagah kahan hai?” a girl standing at the entrance spoke.

It was the same girl I had seen at the food court, and who vanished before my eyes. Rude and bossy!! Bade baap ki beti. I turned my eyes to not look at her.

“kahan reh gayi thi itni der? Yahan toh sab baith gaye hain. Tu woh window ke paas baith ja” an elderly lady of the family told her, pointing at the seat before me.

I was moving my eyes looking at the lady and the girl, when she said “Excuse me, will you move your bag please?”

“Sure” I said in a low voice, breaking my eye contact and moved bag on to my lap. Squeezing my legs close to make way for her to sit, I wished that she doesn’t fuss now, asking for more leg space. She sat down comfortably, adjusted her clothes, gulped some water and relaxed, while I was trying to squeeze my legs, so that I don’t accidentally touch her. My bag was heavy, but there was no place to rest it. My eyes were looking for some space and she caught me.

“May I help you please? I think your bag can fit in here” she said, pointing at the berth above her. She took my bag and placed it gently there.

“Thank you” I said in a sweet voice, surprised by her sweet gesture. This wasn’t expected.

She smiled and went back to flipping the pages of the book she held.

At the food court, I had no time to look at her. And from the first impression I had of her, I didn’t even wish to look at her. But this second impression of her was different. She wore a pink top with a creamy brown night pant; a small, tight bun over her head, and moderate sized reading classes. She looked cute though. No lip gloss, no eye liner, no plastic put upon face; it seemed like she had forgotten her makeup box in a hurry. She was so immersed in reading the book that she didn’t look up even once.

“Why am I admiring her beauty? As if I have nothing important to do” said to myself and went back to Facebook.

A minute later, one of the two kids in the family moaned, finding it difficult to sit in such little space. She came weeping to her elder sister, sitting before me.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry but can she sit here? She wants to be with me” asked she, looking at me hoping I would nod at her.

“Bag rakhne ke liye jagah nahi hai,and now you want your sister here” I thought to myself. But before I could speak something, the little kid, moved my leg and found her space between us. I was gaping at her in dumb shock, thinking “Fuck, I better jump off the window than squeal here”

“Thank you, I hope you are comfortable “she spoke again, with that bloody disgustingly sweet smile on face. I nodded, having nothing else to say.

Bored of facebook, I thought of starting a conversation with her. But what do I say first? I never have spoken to a girl myself. The book in her hand was PRIDE and PREJUDICE. This seemed like good way to start things off. But at that very moment, the name of its author escaped my mind. Arthur Daniel, William Leslie; it wasn’t any of these names that passed my mind. Author’s name on the cover was so small, that I couldn’t read. I bent my head to have a better view of the cover, when she saw me.

“Pride and Prejudice, the best seller of its year” she said, showing me the book.

I leaned back, calmly and said “Of course, I know”, trying to sound confident.

“Have you read it? I bought this book a while ago at the stall” she said.

“No, I didn’t. But my friend has, and he said it’s good” I said with a shaky voice.

“Of course. That’s why I bought it” she responded, not sounding very friendly.

I leaned back to my seat and took a breath of relief. Thankfully I didn’t showcase as a fool, before her.

An hour passed and we kept quiet; I, hoping she would look at me and boost me to talk to her, and she, being deeply immersed in reading. Fuck! I hated that book in her hands so much. But I chose to break the silence myself.

“So, where do you live in Hyderabad?” I enquired, to which she raised her cheeky big eyes, hiding behind the large frame of glasses.

“Sultanpur. But we are shifting soon to Gandipet. We bought a new house there.” She grinned.

“Wow, that’s cool. And what’s with the visit to Chennai?” I questioned, desiring to know more.

“Big fat wedding. My cousin got married this week. And our entire family had attended it.” She said, showing me her mehendi.

“Is this all your family?”I blurted out, even before I knew what I had asked. That question was really offensive. I fucked up this good going conversation myself. But to my surprise, came her answer “No, the rest of my family is in the next coach. We couldn’t get our seats at one place. You see, ours is a joint family” she smirked.

That’s a GIANT family.

The conversation got better with time. She was sounding sweet to my ears, friendlier than I would expect a stranger to be (especially a girl), and preferring to talk to me over reading the book she carried. Had the sun risen in the east, or was I dreaming? Never had a girl been so nice to me to have talked to me for fifteen minutes at a stretch. Wow! Fifteen minutes of uninterrupted talk with a girl. That felt like an achievement in my life.

Rage of my expectation usually peaked in fraction of minutes. An introvert like me, had lots of things on his list that were yet to be experienced. Some of these to-do’s were talking to a girl, asking for her number, kissing someone, dancing in public with a girl and etc.

It was soon 8pm, and train halted for few minutes at a station. I peeked out of the window, and saw that more passengers were flooding the train. But our coach still seemed spacious, fairly vacant. By then, the giant family next to me had drooped over their Tiffin boxes, feeding each other, littering the entire seat like uncivilized barbarians. This girl, sat before me quietly eating her food, with her ear phones plugged in, and looking out of the window. She didn’t look like she was a part of this noisy, uncivilized family. She was different.

I was finished with the food I had bought for dinner. Stretching my arms, and yawning, I grabbed the novel in my bag. Before I opened the first page of it, the lights of the compartment were turned off. The family was done with dinner and shut the lights off to sleep in peace, unbothered of my presence there. Surprisingly, even the girl had fallen asleep in just a minute. Damn it, I wanted to talk to her, but I cannot dare to wake her for this silly desire of mine. I usually don’t sleep so early. WTF should I do now!!

Tossing around on my berth, I was looking at the dark sky, in a disgusted mood. I hadn’t caught any sleep since the lights turned down. My watch flashed 11pm and I let out a heavy breath of discomfort. The family was deep asleep, snoring heavily to their pleasures, where as I barely had space to move my legs. Cautious that I didn’t disturb the herd, I tiptoed to the door.

Silence brooded over the whole coach, as everyone was fast asleep. Finally there was some peace in the darkness of the coach. Cool breeze of air brushed my face as I stood at the door. Train had caught its full speed. Little lights glowed at a distance, and the feeble cry of cattle could be heard. I always wanted to live my life in a country side home like these, where peace wasn’t scarce. I sat down at the door, to live that moment for a little longer.

“You wouldn’t die if you jump off, instead would end up with broken limbs and disfigured face” I heard a voice from behind.

I turned around, and to my aghast it was her.

“What are you doing here?” I asked horrified.

“You surely don’t own this place. Do you?” her reply slammed on my face.

“I mean, you were asleep right? You lay motionless so long, so I thought you were fast asleep” I retorted.

“So you were stalking me!! “She probed doubtfully.

“Uhh…..” I fell silent. She caught me in the act.

“Chill…. So what are you doing here?” she enquired.

Tumhare family ne mujhe sone kahan diya. I let go off my disgust look on face and turned sweet, to answer her “I couldn’t sleep. I’m not used to sleeping so early.”

“Hmmm….” She exclaimed, sitting down next to me. She looked gorgeous as her hair flew over hair, and she pulled them across her ears.

“So what’s your story?” She asked, looking straight into my eyes. I was jolted by her question. My story!! What does she mean?

“I don’t have any story” I retorted.

“I mean, what brought you to Chennai?” she cleared.

“I was here to attend interviews at IITM”, I answered facing the fast moving trees outside.

“I thought IIT was a college, but not a company. What did you attend interviews for?” she pondered.

“It was for the post of research scholar. It’s for those who wish to do research” I explained in not more than a line, assured that she had no freaking idea of what it was.

“That’s cool” she exclaimed, but with an ironic expression. “Nerd” she whispered in silence.

With passing minutes, she made herself comfortable sitting next to me, leaning on the door for back rest, and closing her eyes now and then. Silence brooded over. I had started to feel little uncertain about how to initiate the talk, though deep within my mind wanted to spend the night talking to her.

“I didn’t catch your name”, I said timidly, trying to sound cool.

“I never told you my name” she replied in an imperious tone, with her eyes still closed. I was awed about how quickly she switches from being sweet the-girl-next-door kind of person to being bossy, egoistic brat kind of person.

I refrained from snapping back at her. Insecurity was driving me now.

“I mean, what’s your name?” I asked, not looking at her.

“Aisha….. Aisha Gujraal is my name. What’s yours?” I heard her question, while I was still gazing outside.

I turned to her, with a smile, but noticing that she still had her eyes closed, I retorted in despair “Devansh Awasthi”.

“Tum toh naam se hi nerd lagte ho”, she blurted out laughing to herself. But silenced, seeing my grave expression. Damn her senseless jokes.

“Sorry yaar, but I’m not used to talking to nerds. This is my first time” she said and giggled.

Offended to the limit, I turned, moved an inch away and went on to enjoy my own company.

“So, what do you do?” she enquired, pretending to be sweet again. I didn’t bother to respond back.

“Hello, I asked what you do” she raised her pitch to make herself audible, amidst the noise of the train.

“Graduation…. Pursuing B.Tech now.” I replied in mono-syllables. Who damn cares to answer her anyway? I dislike her already.

“Oh, I study Commerce, and I totally hate it.” She uttered in a miserable tone.

I already had heard this a million times from many. I wasn’t bothered by her reply, and kept my eyes glued to the view outside.

“I said I hate commerce” she yelled at her highest pitch, assuming that I hadn’t heard her the first time. Damn! Why does she want to be heard always? Why is she here to ruin my tranquility?

“Oh..” I muttered, not knowing what to respond. “so what do you wish to do, if not commerce”

“Fashion Designer!! I wish to be a fashion designer. This one time, I saw a movie in which the lead actress is a wedding planner, and since then, I have been obsessed about it” she said delightfully.

I had the faintest idea of this career choice. I had never heard anyone pursue it, but it surely sounded interesting.

“And how do you think of getting there?” I asked in amusement.

“I haven’t thought of it yet. But I will find a way” she said with a pleasant smile. She seemed certain about her choice of life. I turned towards her, and now she was facing me. It seemed like the perfect moment to start a conversation, now that we both had a pleasant expression.

Clock ticked 12, and I was puzzled about where to begin. The awkward silence, that crept in, amidst the pleasant smiles on our faces, had to cut down.

“Tell me about you. Where do you live in Hyderabad ?” she broke the hush.

And with that began our never ending talk. We were comfortable talking to each other, though we were complete strangers a few hours ago. I didn’t know the reason why? Perhaps it was because of the serene, tranquil night with its clear sky and dazzling star, that worked like magic.

Two hours passed, and we hadn’t stopped. I had never felt time fly so easy, and never had I talked to a girl for so long. I have to ask for her number. I don’t know how. Before I could utter the next word, I heard a voice from behind us.

“Aisha, what on earth are you doing here, at this time?” It was her aunt. She was horrified, seeing that we had been sitting for more than hour at the train door. To me, she looked nothing less than hungry lioness, ready to hunt me down. Her eyes blazed with anger, and in the flash of light that fell on her face, she looked like a blood thirsty vamp.

“ Chachi,main toh bas……” and before she could finish, she was shushed and dragged away by her aunt. I sat there baffled, thinking about what I could have said to avoid this from happening. But then, I felt Acha kiya jo kuch nahi bola, warna aur bura ho sakta tha. Perhaps we were meant to get along this far. I convinced myself that there was no coming back of her, and it was in best interest of me that I rested my eyes now. Less than two hours were left for the sun to hit the skies.

I woke up the next morning, not because of the sun rays peeking in from the adjacent window, but because of the chaos in the compartment. The GIANT family had woke up, and now I was seeing them, gravely staring at me. Instinctively I covered myself, fearing I might be in an obscene posture or was uncovered. Few seconds later, it struck me that the reason was what happened last night. I rolled my eyes around to avoid looking at them, but from the corner of my eye, I could still see Vamp Aunt explain them the scenario of last night. Embarrassed, I moved out to other compartment to avoid any further humiliation, and glued my eyes to my phone screen. A few minutes later, Aisha woke up. She seemed normal, unaffected and walked to washroom. She didn’t even notice me sitting by the window side, ready to smile at her if she looked. But she didn’t.

In less than 20 minutes, the train halted at Hyderabad station. The jostling crowd, waiting for 9am train to work, covered the entire platform. It wasn’t unusual. I grabbed my bags, and got down the train. As I was scanning through the crowd, I saw her family get down too. I stood at a distance, hoping that she would at least look for me. A minute passed, and it turned harder for me to stand there in despair. Finally, there family walked past me. I was still gazing at her, desperately hoping that she would turn around to look at that guy she spent the last night talking to. But no, it didn’t happen. Soon they disappeared in the crowd, and I was left there thinking “This was how it’s supposed to end. When did anything start in the first place? We only had a conversation for a few hours last night, in seclusion, which by no way means that we would see each other’s faces the next morning. I am a total jerk to have thought that the conversation mattered to her. She must have had thousands of such conversations with thousands of strangers…. But it certainly mattered to me, coz it was my first time.”

Soon, we parted our ways amidst the bustling crowd, and disappeared in the busy streets of Hyderabad, my home.

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