The Eight of Earth

15: Gwinn DeMarco- *Widow's Wing*

A particularly disgusting creature operates the dispenser at the bar. It doesn't understand a word I say, but I've been yelling at it for the last ten minutes to give me a bottle of haze that I'm almost certain isn't there.

The world is predictably blurry.

Music pounding against my head hard enough to block out those horrible electability tests. Why couldn't one of the videos been burning down this Surg cesspool? I would've actually enjoyed picking that one. But then where would I go to enjoy my mind-numbing solitude?

I scratch at my wrist. These stupid bugs yell at me. Even through the intoxication, I can feel the constant itch of their vibrations crawling up my arms. Sometimes I scream back at them. I consider it self-help. Leo is always harping on me to be more in touch with my emotions. Apparently... I bottle things up.

Yet, as much as I hate these disgusting grubs, this is the one place I can let my guard down. I can scream and laugh and cry and kick and spit and do whatever the hell it is I please down here because they can't tell a damn soul about it. They have no written language. Comms are useless to them. And they fraternize strictly with other Surgs. Down here, you may as well be on another planet.

A single vine squirms from an individual-sized pot at my seat on the bar. It dances in the air like an amputated tentacle. I stare at it. My glazed eyes struggling to follow it wiggle. I shouldn't eat it. Things always go south when I do. But the images of those High Council tests flicker through my mind once again, and the bitter vine is halfway down my throat before I can give it a second thought.

It always amazes me how quickly my mind turns to soup.

Colors erupt in my vision. Like a paintbrush having an orgasm. They tunnel and swirl. The walls of the lounge melting away. The bug next to me transforms into the little Heplin girl I met on the slidewalk. She smiles at me. Her lips moving like she's speaking but nothing coming from them. Then the words echo in.

"What was Emoss like?" The girl asks.

"Magnificent," I answer. The world continues to dissolve into beautiful chaos as I swallow the stem of the vine. "Everyone loved him. He was more than a leader; he was a compass. He showed you the way, and all you had to do was follow." Memories speed across the surface of the bar like gushing water. I cup one in my hands and watch it. Emoss, the twins, and I walk along the rocky shoreline of northeast Okotall.

"How did he die?" She asks.

"I killed him..." I say quietly. The lounge has completely vanished, and I sit on the rocky shoreline of the memory I just watched. The little girl sitting beside me, tossing pebbles into the ocean.

"Why? Didn't you love him?"

"More than anything in the world... I didn't mean to." The waters turn black and grow choppy. "I was sick. And young. And scared. So, I ran away." Massive waves crash at our feet, yet we don't get wet. They just thunder against our ears. "I thought they would send me away like they did Tanya..." We snap to nothingness. Floating silent in an empty white vacuum. "I was missing for days. Emoss was leading search parties all over the globe. Russa was as well. But I was hunkered down in a cave I found atop Berban Falls." I blink, and we are right there atop the Falls. It pours from the middle of a massive jagged rock, more mountain than boulder, like a tongue from a mouth. Stone surrounding it on all sides, fifty meters tall and 400 meters wide. Roaring with unrelenting power. The water chews through the facade creating a gorgeous arch that connects the very western edges of Su Hoz, Dwaul Fir, and Okotall. Groga Ivolo perched high in the sky miles above the very peak, immaculate and flawless.