Ah … there’s really no explanation for this one. I just really wanted to write it, since I found both the black mages and the Genomes interesting. Quite short, so it won’t take long to read it. It’s from Mikoto’s point of view.
By Kate
*
It’s much different from Bran Bal, this village. That’s a mild way to put it. The air in this village smells different. Fresher, cleaner, purer. I am not used to it, but I think that, perhaps, in time, I will be.
The others don’t think about it much. They are like the black mages, just discovering life and becoming aware of their own separate existences. I have been aware since birth and I cannot help but feel as if I am their leader. The leader of the Genomes.
It’s morning now. The mages and my people are doing what they do every day – learning. Bobby Corwen races up to me and I pat him on the head absently as everyone else does. He is like everyone’s pet.
It seems I’ve been here forever. I’ve only left once since Zidane and the rest of them left my people here. I went to Conde Petie with Mr. 288. It was interesting, to say the least. I will admit that I am a stranger to this world and unfamiliar with its ways, but nothing could have prepared for me for the dwarves’ exuberant natures.
Mr. 288. In a strange way, he is like me. He is the unspoken, unofficial leader of the black mages, simply because he seems to be a little brighter and a little more grown-up than the rest of them. He is far more emotional, though. He has known grief. Which may be why he spends a lot of time at the gravesite.
Maybe I’ll go see him.
I walk over to the graves of the dead mages. Mr. 288 is there, but instead of standing still, he is bent over in the dirt, digging furiously. I frown. Is this insanity? Is this the first sign of … stopping, as they call it?
He looks up briefly and sees me. "Hello, Mikoto."
I still can’t bring myself to exchange greetings. "What are you doing?"
He lifts his dirty hands up in the air so I can see them. "I am making a garden."
"What’s a garden?" I ask. There are so many new words.
"A place for vines and flowers and other pretty things. A place for things to grow."
I’m not sure what vines and flowers are. Plants, I assume. It’s not important. "Why would you bother … making things grow?"
Mr. 288 sits back and looks at me. At least I believe he is; it’s hard to tell with those strange eyes of his. "I don’t know."
I sit down on the grass beside him. "You don’t know?"
He goes back to his work. "I think I have grown to understand why some of the others looked after Bobby Corwen before he was hatched from his egg. Perhaps there is pleasure to be found in creating something and nurturing something."
I raise an eyebrow. "Do you believe our creators took pleasure in creating us?"
"I don’t know."
I regard the patch of dirt again. It could give life to plants, the colorful kind that people like to look at. "Perhaps you just want to make something beautiful." That answer is more acceptable to me. "For your lost friends, even."
"It is possible." Mr. 288 taps me on the shoulder. "Would you like to help me, Mikoto?"
"Why?"
"I thought that perhaps you would like to."
I place my hands into the dirt. It is soft and yielding, surprisingly cool beneath my hands. I feel a strange compulsion to continue touching it, to work this dark, damp earth.
"All right," I say to Mr. 288. "I will help."
*