Chapter 33: A Bond of Tune
Terrchel stumbled into his assigned room, the weight of Meriella's perceived death crushing him. He sank onto the edge of the bed, his head falling into his hands, the image of her lifeless face burned behind his eyelids. After a moment, he grabbed his MP3 player from his jetpack pouch and draped the headset around his neck, a desperate attempt to block out the suffocating reality. He decided to go out for a walk in The Undergrid under the night sky, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts about Meriella and the cruel whispers that had already begun to spread throughout the hideout.
An agonizing realization settled upon him. How awful I treated Meriella these last few days, he thought, his heart twisting with regret. Instead of facing his burgeoning feelings for her, he had been avoidant at every opportunity, even bonding with Meraki, to escape the undeniable pull he felt toward Meriella. And now, she was possibly gone forever, and he had wasted precious time—time which had already been sacredly added to his life. The irony was a bitter taste in his mouth. He remembered her laugh, the way her golden eyes sparkled with mischief, the soft curve of her lips that had promised a future he now feared was stolen. A shiver, not of cold but of profound loss, traced down his spine.
When he left the hideout, Emerson, who must have caught a glimpse of him in the distance, decided to follow, slowly approaching the distraught figure.
Terrchel's mind, in its turmoil, conjured a desperate, wishful image of what he should have done, a stark contrast to his past hesitations. He imagined walking up to her, not with a joke or a question, but with the raw, untamed longing that had churned within him. He saw her eyes, warm and accepting, meeting his own, and felt the phantom touch of her hand in his. A wave of regret so potent it felt physical washed over him. No, that's too much. I would have lost her regardless, he mumbled aloud to himself, the exquisite pain of his lost chance echoing in the silence.
Emerson finally caught up to Terrchel. "Care to have some company?" he offered softly.
Terrchel's expression remained grim, his voice flat. "Not really in the mood, but you're already here." The emotional distress Terrchel carried was evident in every line of his body, but he stubbornly avoided talking about Meriella, a pain too fresh to articulate. Something Emerson, out of understanding, decided to respect.
Emerson took a cigarette from behind his ear and offered Terrchel one. "I've never tried these yet, but I guess there's a first time for everything as a human," Terrchel murmured, taking the cigarette. Emerson lit it for him, and Terrchel immediately coughed and choked at the first attempt, his body rejecting the acrid smoke.
Emerson chuckled, a rare, light sound in the heavy atmosphere. "Here, let me show you," he said, taking a drag and demonstrating.
"Nah, I'll pass," Terrchel waved it away, still coughing. "I don't understand why you even do this; it tastes like the trash I lived off as a fly. So basically, you're a human living like a fly right now."
"I guess it is a nasty habit I picked up over time," Emerson admitted, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "My mom came home from a discovery trip one year, and cigarettes were among the items she found. Seeing that they always left me alone, I decided to search the Arcadian web to find out how to use it and got hooked, not as in addiction, but I enjoyed it. After a while, it ran out, and I was determined to find someone who sold them. After searching the Neo-Retro Market, it was easy to find a dealer who I stay in touch with till this day."
"I didn't ask for your life story..." Terrchel began, then softened. "I'm sorry you grew up that way. I grew up as a fly." There was silence for a few seconds, then they both burst out laughing, the absurdity of their shared, yet vastly different, origins breaking the tension.
"Guess we were just born with tragedy in our blood," Emerson said, exhaling a plume of smoke.
"You're quite gloomy when you open up, hey," Terrchel teased, a faint smile touching his lips. "Here, check this out..."
Terrchel removed the headset from his neck and handed it to Emerson, who hadn't even realized he was wearing one. When Emerson realized what Terrchel was doing, he was taken aback in shock. "Where did you get this?" he asked, his eyes wide.
"Oh, I got it from a girl at the Arcadian Academy event," Terrchel replied. "It's my favorite thing right now. Check this song I found on here."
He tapped the MP3 player, and a melody filled the cool night air – a haunting, bittersweet tune with soaring vocals that spoke of impossible love and the fear of a world ending. The raw emotion of the music resonated with the deep ache in Terrchel's chest, a testament to the bond he felt with Meriella, a bond he now feared was severed forever.
Emerson held the MP3 player in his grasp, a sudden, far-off look in his eyes. "Wait, Terrchel, this MP3 player... I remember my mom going on one of those trips I told you about earlier, and this was something she brought home from exploring a dead land. She must have donated it to the Academy or something; how else would it have been there..." Emerson's eyes glistened with the sudden rush of memories of his mother. "I do miss her," he said aloud, then placed the headset over his ears, listening intently to the song Terrchel had playing. As he listened, he bobbed his head slightly. "Yeah, I like it, but I'll share you some of the tunes I listen to."
"Obviously nobody uses Bluetooth anymore," Emerson said, removing the headphones. "I'll show you how to use your swatch for music streaming."
"I'd appreciate that, but I plan on getting new tech gear first," Terrchel replied, running a hand over his existing Swatch. "These are outdated. Technology has grown rapidly in Arcadia, and I need the best to keep up with the bad guys."
"You might be somewhat right, but I think we should go even further," Emerson proposed. "Remember, I sent the intel we gathered from the Cygnus Industries to the base. So, based on that, we can ask Meraki's friend Bucky to help us get creative. What do you think?"
"Bucky?" Terrchel asked, a faint frown on his face, remembering the strange, slow-moving man.
Emerson checked his Swatch. "I'll introduce you tomorrow... or should I say, in a few hours," he corrected, noting the time. It was 03:00 AM. Terrchel and Emerson started walking back to the base, but then, a distant uproar reached their ears from a few roads away. A faint glow pulsed against the dark sky, casting an ominous orange hue against the distant buildings. They exchanged a look – a silent question passing between them. Curiosity and a growing sense of dread propelled them forward, a quiet determination setting in. They decided to check it out.
As they drew closer, the distant glow intensified, painting the sky in angry shades of red and orange. The air, usually thick with the scent of damp earth and moss, now carried the sharp tang of burning plastic and ozone. Screams, raw and primal, ripped through the night, blending with the rhythmic chant of a desperate mob. Fires roared in the streets. The Arcadians of The Undergrid had set their tech heelys and jetpacks alight in the road, the flames casting an eerie, dancing glow on their faces. They chanted in unison:
"No more Division! Bring back Unity! We deserve better!"
"No more Division! Bring back Unity! We deserve better!"
"No more Division! Bring back Unity! We deserve better!"
Whilst marching barefoot down the road, it seemed they intended to march all the way to The New Arcadia City. The sheer force of their collective fury was a palpable thing, a dangerous current sweeping through the very heart of the Undergrid.
"At this rate, they won't get to the city soon," Terrchel observed, a grim realization in his voice. He noted the slow, shambling pace of the desperate mob, their movements fueled more by raw emotion than strategic intent.
Emerson and Terrchel both spoke at the same time, meaning, "We still have time to intercept," and turned to look at each other with a grin.
"Jinx!" Emerson exclaimed.
"What do you mean 'Jinx'? What's that!?" Terrchel asked, genuinely confused.
"It's something I used to say with my friends if we say the same thing at the same time. So now you owe me," Emerson winked, a playful glint in his eye.
"Well, that's bizarre. I think this is a quick scheme to get favors," Terrchel rolled his eyes, a flicker of his old sarcasm returning.
Emerson laughed. "Let's quickly get back to the hideout to inform the others and get to work."
"I don't think we're getting sleep tonight," Terrchel said, already turning. "I'll run ahead and check on Meriella. You inform the others. I'll meet you in the meditation room." Emerson shot up a thumbs-up in agreement, and Terrchel fled at the speed of light, leaving a gash of wind where he stood, disappearing into the darkness. This left Emerson with no choice but to get back on foot, already feeling the strain of the long night. Emerson pondered getting tech gear, despite it not being his style, realizing keeping up with the chaos was becoming difficult without it. He started running in the direction of the hideout with intentions to wake his troops and gather them.