Reverse: 1999 story · Event stories
Dawn Arrives as Usual
8 scenes, 751 lines
1. Crushed Butterflies
105 lines
You shouldn't be here.
The humans are near. You won't be able to face them all.
Leave while you still can, Samodiva.
Last I checked, you were in no position to order me around.
No one tells me what to do, especially not you, traitor. Remember this: I only spare you now because of your promise to "return to our people."
As for that scaleless, whether you've kept it alive for their "eternal soul" or whatever else, it'd better be a corpse next time I see it.
Or I will do that work for you.
...
The dream fades. Vila opens her eyes, looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling.
Where am I?
She sits up and looks around. The white and gray diamond patterns on the wall reminding her that this is not Rayashki.
There isn't another second to be spent in bed. She is up with her clothes tidy and neat—ready to leave any minute, even in her sleep.
Fine then. A brand-new day.
The last step in her routine, checking her schedule for what must be done.
Message from the HQ ... more manpower ...
List of names ... Are you going? Vinchik?
It's not released yet. But I hope to stay here, to be honest. I've barely passed training. What use could I be?
You never know in a situation like this.
Vila's cheerful footsteps draw near to the chatting staff.
Good morning, I'd like to ask ...
Hmm? Oh, morning, Ms. Vila. May the peace be with us.
How can we help you?
Ms. Tatyana, Mr. Vincent.
I was wondering if my application for the utility room has been approved.
You were looking to use it during the daytime, yes? Well, you should receive a decision soon, within seven working days.
Seven days? That was not what I was told, sir.
They said it would be decided today at the latest, so that we might hold an art class there.
The children have been looking forward to it.
Could you double-check my application? You can find the date I first submitted it here.
Sorry, we're really tied up these days. The process might take more time than expected.
The female staff elbows the other and interrupts him.
Ahem! That isn't quite it. You see, there's been a change in procedure.
Then might we just use the room, first? The kids will help clean, no need for any concern.
And we'll be careful with everything there.
I understand, miss. But it's against the rules.
A small figure wades into the scene, breaking the increasing tension of their confrontation.
He looks up at them with irrepressible eagerness and warmth.
Or at least one of them.
Hello, Vila! I've found you!
...?
Yes, here I am. Hello to you too, Comrade Avgust.
Let me see ... 08:20, you're on time. But what about your friends? Why didn't you come together?
They're with Mr. Name Day! He brought us the biting coin again. Pyotr says he wants to have a contest with it. They will bite each other and see who has sharper teeth.
But the kitty on the coin is sleeping. We're waiting for it to wake up first.
I'm sure Pyotr will win, so I will not be watching the contest. I will just return for the rewards.
A biting coin ...
So, it was Name Day who took the sharpodonty from the meeting room! They wanted it to wake up anyone that fell asleep during that long meeting. But he must have used a slumber incantation to make it sleep instead!
I'll have to get it back from him.
Let me help. I should take Avgust to find Mr. Name Day.
And in the meantime, we'll just have to find another place for our class, one without lengthy approvals. I'll bring the sharpodonty back to you when I can.
Will there be no class in the diamond caves, today?
Pasono and Nina want to have class there too. There are so many caves to play hide and seek in!
I'm sorry, child, not today. Maybe later, or after we get back to Rayashki.
It's time to go, Avgust. Say goodbye to the lady and gentleman.
Goodbye.
Grabbing at the corner of Vila's shirt, Avgust follows her down the corridor, gripping his sunflower tightly in his arms.
As they move beyond earshot of the chatting staff members, she poses a gentle question.
Avgust, why are you out in the hallways all alone?
It is best to stay with our other comrades while we're in an unfamiliar place. Do you understand? It's for your safety.
Hmm. But why are you out here, little Avgust? Will you tell me?
Uhm ...
It is strange to see Avgust hesitate. A dreadful series of imagined dangers pop into her mind.
But she leans on her experience, waiting out his answer behind a patient, tender smile.
Vila, you didn't turn into sea foam or even a squeaking line. Does that mean you have an "eternal soul"?
What?
What is an "eternal soul"? I think it is something for people with beautiful tails—something that keeps them up so they won't sleep forever.
But Pyotr said it was like pretty clothes that never get dirty, "im-acu-late" that keep you safe. He said his mama tells him about a place where people get them, called a church.
But I told him, "Clothes can't protect people! Because I saw Evgeni, and he was wearing clothes when he turned into a sea swallow."
Name Day says you will know the answer, but even if you don't, I think you must have one. That's why you have a pretty tail and you don't turn into sea foam.
Vila's eyes widen. She stops and turns to him inquisitively.
Turn into sea foam ... I understand now. You're thinking about that fairy tale, aren't you?
You know that story came from the legends of the Rusalka, or perhaps I should say the stories humans told about us.
But they're only stories, nothing more.
She stoops down, looking into Avgust's eyes, searching for a better answer to match his own search. His questions never had conventional answers.
You didn't turn into sea foam.
No, I didn't.
People fold paper into different shapes and give them names. That's just what they do; the "eternal soul" is very much like that.
And a little like a paper plane.
She tears a page from her notebook and folds it swiftly into a paper plane.
No, that isn't so.
This paper—sea swallow, the shape doesn't really matter, nor does its name. You can call it an "eternal soul," a "sea swallow," or even "Comrade Patrik's pot."
Anything you'd like to call it.
But it doesn't look like a pot! I don't think it would work like a pot either! So it's useless! Even the hole in my hat has its uses. At least it helps me to see my friends.
And even if it is a sea swallow, it can't protect you either.
You're right, little Avgust. No matter what we call it, it's only a folded piece of paper.
Once it flies away ...
It disappears.
I can never catch the sea swallows that Pasono folds. They fly very, very far.
And when they're flying, they are so free. They can't be caught by anyone, even on tip-toes.
But just because you can't catch others doesn't mean you cannot make your own. Like your frogs, sunflowers, and polar bears. These things you fold for yourself, they will be there for you, Avgust.
These paper shapes, they aren't really frogs and planes. We just call them that, like we call it "an eternal soul." But to name it, that doesn't give us any special protection. No. We have to protect ourselves.
Avgust lowers his head, the slowed wagging of the sunflower reflecting in its own way, a measure of his thoughts.
Vila holds her hand out to him. Not long after, the little boy reaches for it as a smile returns to his face.
Now, a mission for you, Comrade Avgust—tell me, where is Mr. Name Day?
He is with the others; they're going to see Comrade Blini! We will need to climb the stone stairs first.
He is with the others; they're going to see Comrade Blini! We will need to climb the stone stairs first.
2. On the Shore
101 linesWith little food to spare, few visit the canteen outside of mealtime. Yet, someone still must set the chairs and tablecloths.
This isn't part of their regular schedules. However, with a lecture being planned in the public square, things are a little hectic.
And they are happy to help.
♪ ... ♬ ...
"A leaky boat that could sink any moment" ...
Mumbling to herself, Vila tightens a tablecloth near the window. Realizing that this is the last one before they've finished, she smiles.
Well done, little comrade. Time for us to get to the square.
A leaky boat! We're sailing on it to the square!
Together with Windsong!
So, we've finished with our Comrade Tables and Chairs? Do they know Comrade Cans will join them real soon and bring many more friends here?
Heh heh, yes, little Avgust.
We will need to say goodbye to Comrade Blini, make sure they're all set just right, and then we're good to go. Because ...
... Because ...
She chokes on the word, as if a phantom hand wrapped around her neck, stifling her voice.
Urgh ...
The meaning is clear even before her scales begin shivering. Vila raises her head, eyes darting out beyond the window.
Her "people" have found her.
*cough*
Vila?
Avgust ...
Listen, Avgust, you must go gather all your classmates and bring them to Comrade Evgeni. Stay with him.
You know where to find him, right?
I do!
Go on now, Comrade Avgust. It is up to you to complete this important mission.
Nearby the docks, there is a place blocked off by discarded containers and machinery, a hidden place in the water known to few besides Vila.
A respite in Rayashki's rare warm days, a place where she could stretch out her "legs" away when the swimming pool proved too crowded, too public.
A large wave rises and then splashes onto the shore, accompanied by a melodious sound, one familiar to her people.
Rayashki prides itself on welcoming everyone. Yet, this is an uninvited guest.
Vila.
Refresh my memory: Do we always start our conversations this way?
You shouldn't be here.
You should not presume to tell me where I can and cannot go, traitor.
...
You've always stayed on the move, Vila. One place to the next, never tied down. Hopping from port to muddy little port, through the greatest of the scaleless cities.
To think this would be the place you'd stay—an old dried-out shell you were too tired to shed off.
Here where the scaleless build their "home," scrounging under the landbed for scraps, like carrion crabs.
How pitiful, that we might be so easily mistaken for them.
She'd run as far as she could, but still they found her. They were relentless. Her kin would stop at nothing to eliminate half-bloods—no stone unturned, no place too remote.
I wish you could see, Samodiva. This hatred between our peoples, there's no way out this whirlpool, until we choose to stop it.
It has blinded you. That's why you can't see what we've been trying to build. What the world could be ...
Instead, you see what you want to see.
Do you think it matters to me what you see in this crab nest? Tides take it. I'm here for you.
You die today.
Vila—Ms. Vila—
My lecture is starting soon. I was hoping you'd do me a favor.
Samodiva's summoned arrows of razor-sharp water hang in the air, halted by the sudden intrusion.
Oops, my files ...
Vila, halting her breath, catches her foe's eyes darting toward the sound, narrowing with enjoyment. His arrows turn in a new direction ...
... and point straight at the source of voice, Windsong.
D**n it, where is it?
NO—
Vila didn't know that she could make a sound like that.
It was melodious but dark and irritated; the sound of an ancient language, one she never mastered. She's warning him.
More water arrows took shape, surrounding Samodiva, these ones distinctly less sharp.
Don't do this.
Blunt as these arrows might seem, they produce a thin red line across his neck.
What?
You can't take her life or the lives of anyone here. Their souls are not for you. These are my people now.
Harm them, and you'll spend the rest of your life in regretting it, short though it may be.
What? You little—
She holds her breath.
This isn't the first time she's bluffed like this, but the stakes are higher now than they've ever been. She can't afford to give anything away.
...
...
Silence. Minutes or seconds might have passed between them, until Samodiva's arrows fall loosely into the water.
Even so, Vila does not let up. Her foe bares his fangs, hissing.
Somehow, you've found a way to become something worse than a traitor.
You betray us, refuse to accept trial, escape from justice. And now, are you truly seeking this "eternal soul"?
You're so homesick that you'd choose any way to get back, even if that means chasing a myth.
You're insane.
How could you know that it's a myth?
Even if it were real, it would not be a half-blood like you that would find it.
Go ahead, drown all the scaleless here, have them sign their souls away to the abyss, just see if that is enough—
But you're never going to find it. You will never reach Atlantis.
You know, I'm always open to trying new things.
Heh.
Then maybe you should start with the one calling your name.
Vila tries to call out to Windsong, waving her away. But the Ley Lines researcher walks clumsily towards her unheeded.
Ms. Vila!
What are you doing all the way out here? I've just been working on my lecture. It's mostly a rehashing of my previous work, but anyways I thought I could use your help.
It might be a little too long now.
Hmm? Ms. Vila?
The researcher seems unaware of the battle that nearly transpired there. The sea behind them is quiet and still.
It'd better be a corpse next time.
Or—
Though she hasn't dropped her guard, she somehow misses the moment that Samodiva leaves.
His voice lingers in the falling of the waves.
Oh, if you have other suggestions, we can ...
No.
Um, sorry. I was preoccupied with something.
We can work out your lecture on the way back. Come on.
Everyone should be waiting at the square.
Oh, of course, of course!
So, in order to make it easier for listeners, I divided the lecture into four parts.
I'm not so worried about my summary, and the theory part should be clear, but the introduction ...
The two of them walk side-by-side to the town square,
leaving the tides to wash over the shore.
3. Kitchen Conversations
86 lines
Yes. Indoor or outdoor is fine, but a place with some sunshine would be best. A little sunshine is good for everyone, you know.
And we'll need a lot of paper. Blank paper is ideal, but waste paper is also welcome. They can use it for drawing or to make paper planes.
Yes, yes. A sunny, open space and paper. The paper should be simple, but as for the location ...
I suppose you'll say a spare office isn't good enough. So, what about here?
As they converse, Name Day moves them from the Foundation's canteen and into the front hall.
The children follow him like a waddling line of ducklings. Vila can't help but think he might almost be mistaken for a teacher.
Yes. It will get busy sometimes with everyone passing through.
Mr. Name Day, please do it again, please!
Show us the arcane skill that turns paper planes into birds! You promised!
Another interrupts him before Name Day answers.
Stop yelling. He won't do it! That sofa he conjured from the toy yesterday only lasted a few minutes!
And I fell off of it! It's a dumb power.
But can you turn a paper plane into a bird? I didn't think so!
So, Mr. Name Day is still better than you!
Their spirited debate soon turns into a rolling battle.
Thankfully, the many people passing by are too busy to pay it any mind and give them a wide berth.
What is it exactly that your arcane skill does, Mr. Name Day?
Well, I can transform garbage into useful items simply by naming them.
I admit, it's not a very practical skill, but kids usually enjoy it.
Alright, stop yelling! I'll show you whatever you want!
Mr. Raccoon, I would like to see the sea swallow too.
I think we should stop Pyotr and Pasono first.
Why, aren't they just singing?
The boys' "duet" soon becomes a chorus as the others are pulled in. And their would-be teacher tries in vain to bring them back into harmony.
My apologies, Ms. Vila. I really can't handle this.
Let me guess—you're the youngest of your family? You can always tell; you might as well be a kid yourself.
Hey gentlemen, you went a bit too far.
She raises her tone as she continues, but it remains calm—a reminder, not a warning.
A practiced tone that the fighters instantly recognize, bringing their battle to a swift end.
My lovely little comrades, you know that you are always free to express your opinions. But we must be peaceful, no? No shouting, no fighting.
Remember, children, we're here representing our town. We don't want people to think guests from Rayashki are rude, do we? Now, if you can all behave as good guests, perhaps Comrade Vila will find us some Alenka to share.
Because good children should be rewarded.
...
I'm sorry, Ms. Vila, Mr. Name Day.
Sorry, Mr. Name Day! I shouldn't have yelled at you.
Oh it's ok, it's fine! No need to—
Alright, Mr. Name Day has accepted your apologies. Now it's time to give each other a hug.
The boys rush to each other, arms wide. Their frowns turn to smiles. Face to face, hair tangled, they look fluffy and warm.
And after releasing each other, Pasono turns back to Vila timidly.
We hugged now. So, can we have Alenka too, Ms. Vila?
Vila knew the question before he even spoke and answers with an encouraging smile.
Don't worry, child. There will always be Alenka for you, no matter what.
Now this is better. A little sunshine and far fewer people!
A flat area with no obstacles, perfect for the children to run around.
Well stocked with paper and paint. A place like this should be just perfect.
You almost sound like a TV salesperson.
Sorry, but what do you mean by a salesperson?
I only meant, the way you described it, like someone from a commercial. I forget you don't watch much TV in Rayashki.
Never mind. As you said, it should be a perfect place, and I've seen to it that you won't need any paperwork to use it.
Wonderful. I'm sure the kids are eager to have a place to themselves.
Shall we let them play then? Actually, I have some questions for you.
Go ahead.
The adults walk to the other side of the hall, though Vila maintains a watchful eye on the kids.
Name Day speaks first, catching her before she can return her eyes to him.
In fact, I had one for you as well, though I know I've already asked many times.
Is there any way we might persuade you to join the Foundation and stay here, Ms. Vila?
You said that you settled down in Rayashki because it took you in unconditionally, that it was so full of hope that it became the symbol of a new world to you.
"A new world where all races and ideas can coexist."
That is how I see Rayashki, how I will always see it. But each time I say it, I cannot help but add:
"Well, of course it may fail and end up a ruin ..."
"But at least we've tried."
Perhaps then you see what I'm thinking, Ms. Vila! We share the same goal. Rayashki, the Foundation, you and I.
We also strive for peace and harmony. Look at our slogan, "May the peace be with us."
And should you agree, then your students could join the SPDM, the school for the Foundation. We've determined that they are all talented arcanists, especially Avgust.
Oh, but please understand, it isn't that we're expecting anything from him. It's just ... sincere admiration.
I understand entirely. Don't worry so much over words. You have your job to do, right?
"For a brighter future," "for the children." In these cases, what you said was correct. They did mean something.
But adults think in their adult ways. Disguising their plans by saying it is "for the children," then they make decisions for them without even asking.
I choose not to be such an adult.
Madam ...
After the first time you brought up the SPDM, I made it a point to talk to each of them and give them a clear and fair argument for it. But they all want to go home. Back to Rayashki.
As do I.
I question, though, why you feel you've decided to pursue recruiting us individually. Wouldn't it be more beneficial to build a long-term partnership with all of Rayashki?
...
Vila seizes on the pause with a smile, turning the questions back on him.
And on the subject of cooperation, I have another question.
Name Day breathes out, relaxing from his bracing stance.
Please go on.
I have taken notice that the turnover rate in this branch is quite high. I assume, with so many coming and going, you must be getting a steady stream of information as well.
To that end, I ask that you might share some information about Rayashki with me.
And the most important of which ...
When will we be able to go home?
4. Letters Unsent
90 lines...
Hmm?
The sudden silence puzzles Vila. A question as simple as this should not render a talkative young man mute.
She tilts her head, trying to restart the topic.
Mr. Name Day?
Please, like I said before, don't worry over words.
I appreciate your concern, but I am not made of glass. I've put my trust in you, and this ... hesitance to speak, it makes me worry.
Oh, Ms. Vila, I didn't mean at all to ...
Then tell me, Mr. Name Day. I will be needing an answer.
This young man stands slightly taller than her, so Vila slightly raises her head, hoping to catch his eyes.
Name Day flinches. Eyes running from her glance. The two things he has little way of managing—kids and the stare of an honest person.
As you wish ...
It seems you're picked up on our high turnover rate, but let me be clear. It is an attrition rate; we simply don't have enough manpower to escort you back to Rayashki safely.
In fact, I might well be in the field too, if I hadn't been selected to host you and the children.
Attrition? What do you mean? Has something happened?
Sorry, there's little I'm at liberty to say, but it isn't anything to worry about. Still, as you are concerned, I'll see if there are any field missions in the area.
If we're lucky, my colleagues may be able to bring back some news.
I admit, I don't know any more than you do. But if the radio is anything to go by, tourism in Rayashki is still in full swing. I heard administration was even considering adding it to our list for annual retreat destinations.
So, it must not be so bad.
What about the mines? The port, is it still under construction? Has Zeno left us alone?
Aha, well they ... didn't mention any of that on the radio.
Vila's blue eyes sparkle, reflecting a sea of thoughts and questions.
Hmm, so if we can't go back for now, is it still possible to write home?
Oh, how silly of me to not think of it! I will write home and ask their opinion about further cooperation between Rayashki and the Foundation.
Oh, I should get on this right away!
Vila has always been known for direct and bold action, and for very good reason.
Madam ...
What?
Aside from any questions of whether we can deliver anything, there's no need to rush. The kids are here, and I'd rather you not leave with just me to watch them.
Not that I'm saying you can't go, but, I worry I won't be able to manage them alone.
Oh, of course. I forgot that you're short-handed now.
But is there really no one at all you can spare? Not even just to deliver some mail?
Of course we have mail delivery. I'm just trying to say, you don't have to be in such a hurry. We can send your letters any time.
So, why not enjoy the sun for now?
If you insist. It is a lovely day.
Fine then, if we have some more time, I should be able to think of some more questions.
After sending the children back to their temporary dormitory, Vila says goodbye to Name Day and returns to her room with a stack of blank paper.
She spreads out the papers on the desk, recalling all the questions in her mind from the afternoon.
Every word she writes is marked by a spark of warmth and a pang of her ever-growing homesickness.
"To Lazarev ..."
"Dear comrades,"
"No matter who is reading this, before you start, please find yourself a comfortable chair. Take my words seriously, not just a quick skim. Yes, even you, Knut."
"Because what I'm about to tell you is of utmost importance to all of us."
Mr. Name Day, please give these letters to ...
"Now, before I get to the topic, I must first apologize for losing contact. I hope most sincerely that by the time you get this letter, we will already be on our way home."
These are today's letters! Please make sure they arrive ...
"There are too many questions, and I'm not so good at prioritizing, but I've heard others say here that one must 'go with the flow' ..."
"Our cooperation with the Foundation has encountered some manner of force majeure and has been paused temporarily. This letter aims at gaining more details from you, our frontline workers."
"Forgive me if I ask too many questions, but they involve every aspect of our livelihoods and Rayashki's survival, including many I should have asked much earlier."
Here you are! These are a few more letters, thank you.
"What's the progress on the repairs for the pier and dockyard? Have we established any diplomatic relations with neighboring cities? Has the rebuilding and maintenance of the houses been finished according to schedule?"
"As autumn is near, have we prepared enough waterproof materials to keep the roofs in good order, and do we have enough fuel to keep things heated in the winter?"
"I would suspect, and hope, that as we ramp up our coal production, none of these will be a problem."
"..."
"..."
"Looking forward to your reply. Warm regards, your most loyal friend, Vila."
Phew. Alright. With that today's letters are done.
Vila folds each one and slips them into their envelopes. As she reaches for the last one, she realizes, she has used every last page from the stack.
She stares, half-shocked, at the mound of thick envelopes before her.
I didn't realize I had so much to say.
I'm afraid I'll have to cut down the pine tree in the garden for more paper if you keep writing this way.
Are those letters to Ms. Windsong finished? I see you've already signed them, so I would suspect they are, yes?
Actually, not yet. I'm not sure if she'd like to return to Rayashki.
And I worry it might be too forward to ask her directly. I'm still choosing my words.
Windsong is that Ley Lines researcher, right? I heard her presentation in HQ was a success.
If so, maybe you might start by giving your congratulations, then you might ask her how she's doing these days, or something like that.
His suggestions provoke no reaction from Vila, as Name Day gradually softens his voice.
Sorry, I don't write so very often. Maybe my suggestion isn't helpful, maybe this is useless advice, or maybe I'm like a blind squirrel.
Anyway, feel free to forget I said anything.
No, no, actually, that was a good suggestion.
The blind squirrel found the nut, Mr. Name Day. That was very helpful indeed.
If you don't mind, please, I'll finish these, and you can send them all together.
Take your time. I'll be sitting here waiting, killing time. Maybe I'll do some carvings with my knife.
Killing time ...
*sigh*
I don't know why I'm doing this.
The mountain of letters in front of him has grown to a daunting size.
The rest are not so lucky. There is no one to receive them, not even to mark "return to sender." All those words without anyone to read them.
Questions that will never be answered.
...
A powerless, futile anxiety burns inside him.
Finally, he takes the letter from the top of the mountain and leaves with a tender sigh.
A letter to an old friend.
"To: Windsong"
5. As She Ponders
94 linesThis sunny corridor, tucked away from the bustle of the office, now serves as a classroom where Vila holds classes for the children.
Art, physical education, and the Foundation's general education courses.
Alright, children.
Please repeat the rules one by one, starting with our comrades at the front.
Comrade Pyotr?
First, no running, no horseplay!
Second, don't climb out of the window.
Third, always raise your hand to ask questions.
Exactly. Comrade Avgust?
That's right, Comrade Avgust. Going out all alone is dangerous, even in a safe place, like the Foundation.
There is no place that is perfectly safe, and no place stays safe forever.
Besides, I'll always be right here with you, so why would you be looking for me?
Mr. Name Day has his own work to do, so do we.
And our work today is to play chess, fold sea swallows, read books, and explore our own interests.
Dismissed!
Like a rocket, at her word, the kids launch upwards, bouncing against the walls, until only two remain.
Avgust stands beside Nina, looking at her. The little girl wears a worried face. Vila brings herself to them.
What's wrong, Nina?
Ms. Vila ...
When are we going back to Rayashki?
I asked Mr. Name Day the same question, and he said "soon." But how soon is soon?
"Soon" means tomorrow.
Mom always said "soon," "it won't be long," "everything will be fine when you wake up tomorrow."
So, I think they have the same meaning.
But it's already tomorrow. It's been a lot of tomorrows, and we're still here.
I don't understand. And I miss mama.
I think "soon" means that we will go home. That is for certain. And we could be on our way there at any moment.
But, when will that be?
...
I'm sorry, Nina. I shouldn't have said that.
Honesty is important, so honestly, I don't know.
But I am sure that we will return home once it is safe. Mr. Name Day has been helping us with just that.
Though he shouldn't have to do these for us.
Mr. Raccoon keeps going in and out.
He left through the front hall, but he brings fewer things back every time.
Ms. Vila!
Avgust always says it's a sea swallow, but I say this is a paper plane.
It's not as powerful as a real fighter jet, but I made it with our last piece of paper.
Rare things are always more valuable, like canned meat and sausages.
Suddenly, the paper plane in Vila's hand becomes heavier than a real jet.
I'm sure you will be able to take us home with this.
Is it folded paper or military-grade steel? She can't tell.
And nothing seems to fit as an answer.
This is a sea swallow, an "eternal soul"! It will fly far, far enough to reach the town.
Can it take us all back too?
I miss everyone. I miss Rayashki.
We will go home.
Yay! I've practiced my paper folding. So I can make real good stuff now!
I want to make one for Uncle Knut too.
But we're running out of the paper Mr. Name Day brought us.
Vila, Pasono says we're running out of "eternal souls."
Could we give him other things that are like an "eternal soul"? Something he can fold into more sea swallows and other things.
Okay. I'll see what I can do.
Why do you call paper "eternal souls"? Souls are for people, not paper!
I once read a story about a Rusalka princess to my sister. The princess traded her fish tail and her voice for a pair of legs, but she didn't get what she wanted and turned into foam.
I don't like that story. That princess is like Ivan the Fool. She doesn't make sense.
Vila is not Ivan the Fool.
I'm not referring to Ms. Vila! She's not a princess. Besides, the book says Rusalki will eventually turn into foam because they don't have an "eternal soul."
That's not Ms. Vila's case. She must have one.
No, paper is the name we give souls, Vila told me ...
Amused by their discussion, Vila decides it best not to intervene.
Pyotr, though, is anxious. As the oldest boy, he feels he must break up any fights, to keep everyone in line. Vila gently taps him on the shoulder to reassure him.
The sound of the telegraph and typewriter harmonizes, echoing in this little room.
Wearing headphones, Name Day is listening to the telegram and transcribing it through the typewriter.
"I wish to hold your hand tightly."
Why is it in reversed order?
"Your most loyal yet worst friend,"
"Windsong."
Hmm?
Familiar footsteps approach, followed by a knock.
Name Day concentrates fully on the incoming telegram, having no idea of the coming intrusion.
Mr. Name Day, are you in there?
Hmm. This should be the place.
Mr. Name Day, are you in there?
Hmm. This should be the place.
This is where he stores all his "collections."
That sound. Is that a typewriter?
He silently screams, realizing it's too late to hide either the letter or the telegraph.
No, she must not see—
Mr. Name Day? I heard your voice. Sorry to bother you now, but I really need to know ...
When can we ...
"It won't be the town you remembered or the utopia we tried to build."
6. Reality
92 linesNothing can be hidden forever. A hard lesson for the struggling Name Day to accept as he scrambles across his desk.
The typewriter is still working, and Vila is one step away.
Mr. Name Day? What is that?
A telegraph and a typewriter. Could this be a telegram from Rayashki?
But how would they have gotten it out? We never replaced our machine.
What could that possibly—
No, uhm, no, this is actually from ... my brother!
Of course, I-I don't blame you, but you kind of interrupted a private moment ...
Vila squints, eyes glimmering.
Rusalki have extraordinary physical abilities, including sharp eyesight. Reading the print on the typed letter is as effortless as a glance.
"Your most loyal yet worst friend,"
"Windsong."
...
I don't intend to accuse you, but I admit, I am confused.
Is your brother's name really Windsong?
I ... I don't suggest you to ...
Oh! Every message or letter the Foundation receives needs to be examined by us. Unfortunately, you can't read it now!
This one is still being translated, so I haven't submitted it yet ...
The era of censorship is long gone, sir.
Why so nervous?
It's only a letter from a friend. How dangerous could it be?
Look, it says, "I wish to hold your hand tightly." Terrifying, isn't it?
...
Name Day falls silent in sync with the telegraph's staccato rhythm.
The tension in the room thickens with the growing moment of silence.
I am so happy to hear from you finally!
I was so worried that it might be even worse news when I opened the envelope. After all, that's all I have received these days.
It took me quite some time to prepare myself and read it through.
After that, I sent you this telegram immediately.
First, I am so glad to know you and your little warriors are doing well. It really cheers me up after all this bad news.
However, I'm still confused by your decision.
You're going back to Rayashki! But don't you know?
It won't be the town you remembered or the utopia we tried to build.
The "Storm" has changed everything.
It seems the Foundation has concealed the truth from you, but as your friend, I feel I'm obliged to tell you.
As far as I know, the chaos caused by the "Storm" has been around for a long time. Wherever it goes, every building and each person there will be "reversed."
By "reversed," I mean they "vanished."
I have not visited Rayashki yet, but I've been to many other places it has struck. I saw what comes from the "Storm" with my own eyes.
Think about it. Everyone you know may have vanished, and that once-thriving town may only be a ruin now, if anything remains at all.
I'm not exaggerating. This is a common fate for places impacted by the "Storm."
...
The "Storm."
A word she has heard from Name Day, now standing before her with guilt etched into his petrified face.
A-actually, the "Storm" doesn't need to be as serious as Ms. Windsong said in her letter ...
S-see? You, Avgust, and other kids are safe and sound in the Foundation.
Not vanished, not reversed ...
His voice gets softer and softer, fading until the next sentence fails to emerge at all.
Despite the ability to transform a thing by speaking a name, he finds no name, no word, suitable for the moment.
It sounds like things have changed there—changed for the worse. Am I right?
Vila tiptoes and gently taps Name Day on the shoulder.
Changed, yes, but it will likely not be as chaotic and ruined as you might imagine from Ms. Windsong's letter.
Ah, well, I suppose that isn't the point. It's only that, I think you should consider staying here, even after this letter.
Hmm ...
Startled by the sound of miniature contemplation, they turn around and see the least likely person to be here.
AVGUST?!
Avgust raises the envelope in his hand as if holding up a flag.
All her unsent letters, piling up at the corner.
Avgust doesn't know what he has found. To him, it's only a trophy, a means to another flight of sea swallows.
Oh, these ones are wearing black dots.
Everything will be alright. We can use these for dotted sea swallows.
We can make so many new things!
Pasono and Nina will be so happy!
I hereby declare that you are all "eternal souls"!
It will be fine.
Avgust is right, Mr. Name Day.
They could be anything we think they are, including "eternal souls."
They're nothing special anymore.
They aren't going to be of any other use.
I'm sorry.
You don't have to. As I said, you have your job to do, and I ...
I also have mine, even in this situation.
*breathes out*
I suppose we're lucky you didn't send them. Now the children have some more paper.
7. Under the Warm Sun
87 linesTime seems to be frozen in the utility room.
The sound of breathing is the only sign of its passage.
Staring at the pile of letters between them, both Vila and Name Day realize that their problems demand answers.
Comrade Windsong did not say whether it was a good idea to return.
As I just asked ...
Would you consider staying here, even after knowing what was in this letter?
See, your question shows you don't think the truth will stop me.
Looks like neither of us have changed our minds.
Vila shakes her head, taking the letter off the typewriter.
You know I'm still going, and I know you'd prefer for us to stay here.
Alright. Since you know the truth, I won't keep it from you any further.
Are you setting off tomorrow?
If possible, sure. We've waited for too long—Too long not to know.
All I want is a chance to see it with my own eyes.
I'll try my best to ...
*sigh* Remember I told you what happened that day when the "Storm" fell? That Avgust went out alone to take a look.
I remember. But back then, I didn't know much about the "Storm," less even than what I know now.
I thought he just got lost.
I had no idea what he might have seen.
Vila looks to Avgust, who is taking each letter from its envelope and piling them up.
Their different layers, one after another, begin to resemble, at least in the mind of Avgust, a layered cake.
But since you're here for these "eternal souls," I think we can help.
But I didn't leave my comrades!
He points at the door. They see the edge of some clothes hidden behind the door frame, accompanied by grouchy whispers.
Don't push me—I can't hear anything!
What do you expect? Comrade Avgust just sold us out!
Let's just go in already!
I had no idea we had so many listeners.
Come out, all of you. Pyotr, Pasono, Nina, and anyone else you've got with you too!
I have something that I must tell you.
Ms. Vila ...
I know what you want to ask, and yes, we're going home.
And if all goes well ...
We will be going home tomorrow.
The hard-packed snow crunches under the weight of feet, big and little, as the team led by Vila inch close to home once again.
Vila?
Why didn't we come home from the pier?
Turtles in the sea place their houses there and then go on shore.
We're not going home for good, Comrade Avgust.
This is just ...
A visit.
Just like the ones Comrade Windsong used to make, remember?
Then are we guests? Does that mean we stay in the hotel tonight? But there are still houses for us, right?
I can't see the pier or the statue from here.
All the rooftops and the snow become one. The snow has covered everything.
We're here ...
... because this is the best place to see all of Rayashki.
But ...
I see nothing. No pier. No statue.
They're gone.
Avgust falls deep into his own mind, but Nina cautiously takes Vila's hand and asks her in a trembling voice.
Ms. Vila, wasn't the mine on our way home?
But this doesn't look like the way home anymore.
It's strange.
I just want to see mama again, and then we can go back to the SPDM with Pasono.
Why?
Ms. Vila, is this really Rayashki?
...
Vila holds her hand even tighter. This time, she doesn't bend down to wipe the tears from the little girl's face.
There is no soft word of comfort left in her, only hard truth.
There was a path from here down to the town. During snowy days, people would tie red tape on the trees to mark the way home.
But now she sees only white, no colors at all except the sunlight reflecting on the snow.
The road home is gone.
A moment later, she turns around.
Is the visit over, Vila?
Yes. It's over.
Madam ...
You're more than welcome! But, please, if you need, you can spend some more time here.
8. A Song for the Teacher
96 linesLook! A sea swallow!
Avgust holds a half-crumpled paper plane over his head, imitating a bird in flight.
All those unsent letters, just the same as any other waste paper—the building materials for folding birds and frogs.
That's not right. You shouldn't fold it this way.
Use these math papers to make dotted frogs—the ones that can jump if you flick them.
But we already have so many frogs.
No fighting!
I wasn't! I'm just saying he used the wrong paper.
It's ok, Pasono, we still have lots of paper.
These seem nice. They aren't too crumply.
Comrade Avgust, use this.
Thank you, Comrade Nina! I think this sea swallow will do just fine.
It's a little crumpled and looks a bit dirty, but these battle scars are like medals for a hero, just like the one that saved our town.
I want to show it to Vila.
Vila—
Before his friends could answer, Avgust is in a full sprint toward the adults on the other end of the corridor.
Noticing his coming, Vila opens her arms, but her duty as a teacher overrides her welcome.
Look! This is my sea swallow!
It has been in many battles and flown for a long, long way. It's very tired and wants some rest.
So, I want it to rest here with you.
The crumpled paper plane lands in Vila's palm.
Oh, thank you, Comrade Avgust.
It will be treated the way a heroic sea swallow deserves, I promise.
Ok!
What do you think? Perhaps it might like to rest in this notebook?
Just like this. Sleep tight, little hero.
Since you're here, Comrade Avgust. I must confirm with you: are you all prepared to go to the SPDM?
I don't understand. What do we need to prepare?
You must have all the things you want to take with you and study your schedule so you will know where to go.
Maybe Nina would like to know what the classroom there is like.
Very well.
You're all brave little comrades. You will protect yourselves and each other, won't you?
Ms. Vila, I assure you SPDM is one of the safest places in the world.
You don't have to worry.
The children will need to learn how to protect themselves sooner or later.
I'm only a teacher. I can't protect them forever.
Surprise jumps across Vila's face.
What? No, never.
But will I be able to see you again if you turned into foam?
How could foam be turned back into Vila again?
No, no, Avgust, I won't—won't turn into foam!
But you said the "eternal soul" is just another name. You said you don't have it, and the princess didn't have it either.
Pasono said the Rusalka princess turned into foam when she went to the sea.
So, then you will—
I will not, Avgust.
The "eternal soul" is nothing. It's only a name, something that could be given to anything. It doesn't have substance; you can't touch it or catch it.
How can something you can't even touch turn me into foam? I haven't before, and I won't now.
Anyway, I won't be going back to the sea.
Then what is it? You said it can be everything, but also nothing?
Vila bends down, looking into Avgust's confused eyes.
I had the same thought at the beginning. That it could be anything I believed it to be, but maybe it didn't even exist at all.
I saw how barriers were broken and hate driven out from that town. That's why I thought "our Rayashki" was "eternal" and the people were all good "souls."
But now, I understand that's not true.
What is true?
You are.
Me? Am I the "eternal soul"?
No. Not you alone, but "all of you." You are the next generation of Rayashki, the survival of our people and our dreams, a future that will not be altered or reversed.
As long as we have you, those who sacrificed themselves will never truly die, and ...
The "eternal soul" will continue to exist for us and for them.
So, for me, the "eternal soul" is nothing and everything.
Sounds a little like my arcane skill. Remember that sofa? It returned to a simple toy in only a few moments.
It's just a small trick, I'm afraid, far from "eternal."
Thanks for the example, Mr. Name Day.
Well, I can see that little Avgust is still very confused.
Avgust doesn't reply immediately. With him, it is never easy to tell whether he's fallen back into his own little world.
Or if he's piecing together something brilliant.
But I saw yours. It's golden, like the sun!
Vila turns to the direction Avgust showing her.
The morning sun has climbed high, spilling into the open corridor and stretching the silhouette of Vila's body.
Golden light surrounds her, outlining her shadow with a splash of warm yellow, a projection on a sparkling sea.
Ah ...
Then at the edge of her shadow, a familiar face.
Found her!
You're here, Ms. Vila!
Oh, little Avgust is here too, and a gentleman that I'm afraid I don't know.
Hello to you too!
Oh, hello. You must be Ms. Windsong.
Yes, that's right. I've come to prepare a lecture for the Far East branch.
Windsong!
Haha ...
It is good to see you too, Ms. Windsong.
I'm certain the children will be happy that they can attend one of your lectures before they go to SPDM.
Now, let's go join the children.
Like we used to do.