Catching the Fallen

Chapter 1

48 HOURS BEFORE TERMINATION

Humans are all taught to feel. With moms saying, ”Don’t you feel better, honey?” and dads saying, “Feel proud of yourself, kiddo!” But living in the atmosphere right above their unsuspecting heads, sits a group of normal-looking people who would love to disagree.

“We had a hurricane last month, if we put two of them too close together the human’s and their habitats will collapse in vital areas.”

A tall man in a smooth, black business suit clicks to the next slide on his powerpoint. Six pairs of eyes stare back at him, trained by years of insight and practice. On the surface, this meeting is just like all the rest, professionals conversing on their too important topic, wearing specially tailored suits and showing off their slideshows. But this meeting is anything but average. Mr. Impeccable-Black-Suit, or Lorin, is the head of the European relations. It’s his job to take the facts of population, environment, and chance and create a sustainable weather schedule for the month. His tone is monotonous and flat; he gets to the point with precision that he has been practicing for over 500 years, though he looks no more than 20. He feels nothing and expresses nothing but the facts. When he was a child he was taught that emotions were bad and wrong, in opposition to the humans, as are all the young taught in this island suspended in the sky.

Lorin turns his back on his associates and turns his attention to the floating map of the Atlantic Ocean. A woman behind him rises from her chair at the head on the table and takes an even breath to speak.

“We will conclude the month with a few scattered rain storms and let that be all.” Her voice is just as controlled as Lorin’s. She glows with authority and power from her cool expression and calm demeanor to her flowing deep purple skirt and her black turtleneck. She raises a gavel with her slender, pale fingers and brings it upon the platform on the table with an audible thud.

“Meeting adjourned.” She turns on her heels and stalks out of the room. Walking down the hall of her office building, she passes cubicles and the sound of information being furiously acquired and recorded. She reaches the building’s main entrance.

“Good Evening, Queen Alexiandra, shall I call your car?” The doorman asks, as her highness passes his post.

“No, Arnold, I believe a walk will do some good.” She brushes past him without another word, and melts into the sunlight, and tall green grasses, adorned with wildflowers, that inhabit that entire island’s outdoors.

-1-1-1-1-

A bell is rung from the fountain in the town square, I looked up from my schoolwork for a split second and the fire I was attempting to start fizzled out on my fingertips and the glow of red left my eyes.

“Dang it!”

“Veronique!” A voiced called from outside, my four-year-old sister stumbled into the room and declared, “The Queen is going walk through the town!” She grabs some freshly picked flowers out of a vase I had set on the table that morning. They seemed to brighten at her touch as her eyes changed to a mixture of brown and green, she giggled with giddy anticipation.

“Lilly,” I chided, “there is no emotion and excitement is included.” Their rules not mine.

But the moment she looks at me with those big, brown eyes, I melt. “Okay, okay, but don’t let the Queen see, no one wants to see a little girl get in trouble.” At my words she hugged my leg and we walked hand in hand down the path from our hut to the main road to witness the Great Queen’s passing.

As we approach the large dirt path we call a ‘road’ that is already crowded with other townspeople that come to pay respect, we hear a hush fall over the crowd. I hoist Lilly up on my shoulders so she can get a better look at the Queen. Lilly pulls on my hair a bit to situate herself, but doesn’t seem to notice my pain. All of her attention is focused on the redheaded women sashaying down the way. As the Queen passes, the townspeople bow deeply in appreciation and respect.