There was a thick fog this morning, a sure sign that the end of summer was on its way; though the sky began to clear. I looked up and saw a gyroplane flying over the Campus as they always do several times in a given hour, either taking off or landing at the nearby Gentry County Airfield. The sight of the sunlight glittering off the silver underside of the aircraft, which was flying above the fog layer, though I could see if from here, was a uniquely beautiful site.
The calm and serenity of the morning created a moment I wish could last forever. Nonetheless, I did have important stuff to do.
Today was not a seminar day with Dr. Jaynes, but I did schedule a one-on-one appointment with him at 8:00 AM this day to discuss my Chemkan Honeybee project. I had been rehearsing for three nights in a row on what I would say to him. When I arrived, I had my written proposal on the project in my hand, which shook a little as I gave it to him to read through; and the scent of damp soil made my nerves dance.
We went over the history of their natural habitats as well as the destruction of their environment along with the indigenous Chemkan Communities having dwelt there for thousands of years. We went over my plan: to secure for myself a granular plane and to plant the first of my seeds there, then to introduce a further variety of favorable plants, to craft this ecosystem to one perfect for the bees, to introduce the bees to thrive in my ecosystem, to reach out to the other beekeepers to establish a network behind a common cause, to secure lands in Chemko that were native to the species, to replant and craft my ecosystem upon this land, to re-introduce the bees there, to monitor and supervise bee population to those levels before the year 1264, and finally to establish a network of beekeepers tasked to maintain the restored habitats.
While I was explaining, he sat across his desk from me, two or three feet away from me, with his gray hair gleaming with the growing sunlight filtered through the Greenhouse glass ceiling above. He had that patient, weathered smile that made you feel both challenged yet comforted. And after I finished, he took a few more moments to look over my proposal. Then he set it down and gazed at me with his fingers steepled under his chin.
"Miss Tangreen," he said, "your passion for restoration resonates deeply with me, as it will with future colleagues. It is, however, the latter steps of your plan that need a bit of adjustment. Your plan to network with other beekeepers: that will take a lot of time. A lot more than would be practical for your time here. So I need you to revise this plan; devote as much time to plant life later on as you plan in the beginning. Focus more time on crafting your granular plane ecosystem, balancing your introduction to plant life with that of pollinators. Success there will earn you the marks you need for graduation. Afterward, you may begin reaching out to the beekeepers, if you wish indeed for this to be a life project, and I commend you for that." He handed me back my proposal and put his hand on my shoulder. "Focus on the solution hiding in your silver box for now. Then reach out later, after graduation. In the meantime, fix your proposal accordingly; I feel that I will most likely approve it the next time we meet."
By the time I walked out of the Greenhouse, my anxiety had drifted away like smoke. I was worried during the meeting that I had left a bad impression on Dr. Jaynes thus far. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that I was right where he expected me to be. There was kindness woven through his words, an undercurrent of encouragement. It was not rejection - it was redirection.
And by the time I walked outside, I had formed a concrete plan for editing my proposal.
By the time I finished with classes, it was late afternoon. The weather had turned warm and sunny; summer was still here for now. I was walking back to the dormitories, and had pulled out my comm tab to check the OCEA newsfeeds.
Right up at the top was a post made by Monika Rhodes.
"Restoring Rebecca Mackwell's policies," the post read, "accelerating the Mobile Portal Link agenda, minimizing funds toward independent granular planes, and ensuring no political fringers within have the power to divide the Membership. We must protect the integrity of the Third Level Society and its Arturian Realm platform! We must unseat Aledon! Vote September 24!"
The comments lit up faster than gyroplanes could fly. Sara March's approval, of course, was immediate and sparkled at the top, while Karyanna Dwemmer followed suit. "No 'political fringers'?" I said to myself under my break. "Really?" My fingers hovered over the holographic keypad, itching to engage in verbal retaliation - but I stopped. Retaliation meant invitation. Besides, Aledon's re-election was coming up fast; he had enough battles to fight. I did not need to fan the flames.
Still, Monika's words unsettled me. "'Political fringer'" I said to myself again. This felt like a personal vendetta rather than simple politics. And this was dragging the Third Level Society into a conflict of ideologies. I did not join to pick sides. I joined to engage in quests and gain insight.
I put away my comm tab and proceeded to the Slack for an early supper, which I scheduled with Meghan Wen. Inside, I met her, and we found a table in a nook off to the side where we set down our food and sat across from each other. Our comm tabs were drawn out to access our virtual avatar profiles. I caught a glimpse of her avatar, Mewe, who appeared to be a bright, curious figure. I compared my avatar to hers to see what I needed to do to build mine up. After a lengthy discussion on this, with the many technicalities, I invited Meghan to go questing with me.
"One of these days I will," Meghan said her gaze fixed down on her comm tab. "But my avatar needs more time in her practice chambers before she can venture out into the world of Arturia." Then she looked up at me. "I know it makes no sense: me having my avatar around longer than you did yours, yet you are having a head start before me...It's the fact that my avatar is, I feel, perfect for me. And you know your avatar's history is permanent, right? In terms of reputation with the others?...She's just not ready yet."
"I see." I was still fairly new to the Society, so I took her word for it. Her reasoning was plausible on the surface. But something about her answer seemed a tad off, as if there was something deeper involved in the Society. Fear, maybe. Or perhaps there was some sort of conflict between factions that made things unpleasant for her, like a false accusation or something like that.
However, given her effort to pursue genuine friendship with me thus far, I decided not to press further with her. "Maybe next time," I said.
"Maybe next time," she repeated in agreement.
When I returned to my suite, I proceeded to my bedroom and entered my Immersion Console, emerging into the Arturian Realm as my avatar, Amixam. Over the past day or two, and with Meghan Wen's help, I made Amixam as a non-gendered individual existing as a shape-shifter, meaning they would be open to any type of quest, be it earth-bound or space-bound, or anything in between. Shape-shifters were the most challenging class of avatars because their inventory was very spellmatter-heavy, meaning that all of my weapons and shields were made via scripts I either wrote or purchased. Aledon, early on, discouraged me from being a shape-shifter due to its enormous challenge for a beginning Society Member. But that's exactly it; I love challenges. Also, it was a flexible role, which I like very much.
I landed in a location per the coordinates that Bernard gave me. Moments after, Bernard's avatar, Adam, flickered into existence beside me - long coat, aviator goggles, and some sort of spellmatter-generated rifle-like tool slung over his shoulder. Beside him appeared Maggie's avatar, Koen.
The location: Planet Arturia, near the Northeastern tip of the Isle of Antemaersa. The mission: to retrieve a box containing an unknown but important item located on a crumbling watchtower. The challenge was that this was private property belonging to one of the non-player avatars, this particular avatar being noted for casting spellmatter daemon-soldiers with such capabilities as not even the near-deities could hope to survive.
In other words, it was a matter of retrieving the box undetected.
"Let's get this over with," said the avatar Adam, sounding gruff as if to mask concern.
"Ditto," I replied.
We cast concealment upon ourselves. We crept across the grassy knoll atop which stood the yard surrounding the watchtower, making our way toward a side door that was likely unguarded.
"Not so fast now," said Adam. Suddenly, I remembered how Bernard had mentioned that his avatar, Adam, was left behind mid-quest by the avatars of Monika Rhodes and Layda Marrows. He had opted to give them a chance after so long spent engaging in mutual abrasion and conflict in the real world. But during that quest, it became apparent that Monika and Layda opted to set him up, giving him coordinates easy to misunderstand while the quest became fast-paced. This caused him to end up in a location where he was on his own. His avatar, Adam, had died in that quest and had to re-spawn. Later on, a few friends told him how Layda and Monika were gossiping about him, saying that he was irresponsible for not double-checking the coordinates and communicating the concern in due time. Yes, it was appropriate to do those things but again, the quest had become fast-paced, so Bernard had no chance.
To many who supported Monika, however, that did not matter. In their opinion, Bernard was in the wrong.
Things seemed to go well for the most part. It was when we were up the tower, into the very room where sat the box that we had our first confrontation. I could not figure out what we were dealing with in the moment. It was some sort of dark phantom thing with web-like appendages covering two of the four walls. I attempted to make a move but the monster dodged me effortlessly.
"Amixam!," shouted Koen. "To the box! Take it now!"
While Koen and Adam were fighting the monster, I did as I was told. I took the box, sliding it into my backpack. Then we immediately slid out and down the staircase.
"That wasn't a spellmatter daemon," Koen started.
"No time for chatter," interrupted Adam. "Whatever it was likely tripped an alarm. We gotta go!"
Indeed, when we arrived out into the yard again. There were armed guards shooting at us.
"Koen! Your concealment!" shouted Adam to Koen.
Just in time, Koen's umbrella of concealment descended over us. Thanks to that, no one was hit; but still we had to leave immediately. And the fence we slipped through on our way in had turned into a spellmatter wall, impassable. Adam had another spellmatter tool though - a super-trampoline. He cast that in front of us, upon which we jumped. I had no time to think; I just did it. We leapt several-hundred feet into the air. On my way down, Adam cast a spellmatter parachute under my feet; thus, I was able to drift lightly onto the ground. Adam then came to me with his hand outstretched. "The box please. Thank you for your help! I will send you twelve-hundred Arturian credits. In the meantime, it's getting late out there in the real world."
I disengaged my avatar and emerged back into my dormitory bedroom. For a few moments, I reflected on our quest. The experience was exhilarating, my immersion into that world and all it could offer - and it being only a small sliver of what there was created by numerous Members of the Society over the course of more than 100 years. Even fractured by politics, the Third Level Society still felt like an organization fostering discovery and insight.
It was just before 9:00 PM. I went out into the kitchen for a bedtime snack, figuring that everyone else was either in bed or out somewhere studying late into the night. Yet there was Aledon standing in the kitchen and glancing at his comm tab.
"These numbers look good, Max," he said, glancing up at me and smiling. Suddenly, I remembered that there was a meeting here for his Dungeonmaster re-election campaign. Aledon continued. "Monika keeps bragging that she's winning. But these sample polls, the past few sample polls even, are saying the opposite. Turns out the Society prefers competence over rhetoric. Still - Layda came by last night trying to talk me into stepping down after this year and endorsing Monika."
"Manipulative," I remarked.
"Yes, from Monika. Even though Layda's been aggressive recently, she was not always like that. It feels strange, in fact. She used to be reasonable, but then Monika began cornering her."
"Like she did with me on my way over here."
Aledon sighed and shook his head. "With you, though.... You seem to have more willpower to resist. You've never taken people's word for it."
"Indeed," I replied. Just then, people began filing in. By 9:15 PM, Bernard, Maggie, Elisabeth, and Madison had arrived along with a few other people on Aledon's campaign team, each person bringing their own campaign stuff. After the last person filed in, the meeting began straightaway and seemingly transformed the atmosphere of our Common Room into that of a tactical chamber. Aledon took a place in the middle of the room, presenting himself in a neat composure under the low light emitted by the lamp by the window.
"Here is where things stand," he began. "Stamp continues to stir anti-Society sentiment, and has been doing so since his return in January. And while Monika strives to keep Stamp's rhetoric out of Society politics, she does continue to alienate those within the Society that she calls 'fringers,' or those on the fringe, right or left, of Society politics. And there's only one place this sort of a thing leads to...."
"Please if I may," said Bernard, raising his hand. "I understand that Monika omitting any mention of the name 'Stamp' would remove the Society from reality. And I understand where you're coming from in terms of making everyone aware of the Stamp concern. 'Blissful ignorance comes only at one's peril,' someone once said, though I can't think of the name right now; I'm admittedly a little sleepy..."
"Your concern being..." started Aledon.
"Present the Stamp concern in the wrong way, and Monika, knowing who she is and what she does," Bernard chuckled, "might actually accuse you, Aledon, of being the one to sow the very division that Stamp wants in the Third Level Society."
"Bernard has a good point," Maggie started. "We've been making very informative posts about the world around us, but part of what Bernard is eluding to is what we have not been talking about enough: the Society itself, the Arturian Realm, questing, everything enjoyable about the dymensional plane that is the very reason people join in the first place."
Aledon paused for a moment, looking down to the floor. He then gazed at Maggie and Bernard. "So...more balance then? More positivity to balance out the negativity?"
"That," continued Maggie. "And more presence on OCEA altogether. We've been sending pretty much nothing but alarmist flyers in person, and long news briefs once or twice a week on OCEA. All amplifying concern for Stamp. And while Stamp is a threat, presenting that as a front all the time...well, people just get sick and tired of it after awhile."
This time, I entered the conversation. "So, maybe shorter, more frequent posts on OCEA, highlighting things like quest achievements and the like..."
"Now we're talking," Aledon replied, pointing at me with a smile.
"Maybe perhaps a slogan for ourselves, like 'Light Between Worlds,'" Bernard proposed.
Aledon's smile turned into a cringe as he put his hand in his palms for a moment. Then he returned his gaze to Bernard. "I've been Dungeonmaster for two years now. I've managed to swing it without a political slogan, just like all of the other Dungeonmasters of the past. I really would hate to be the first to..."
"You're the first Dungeonmaster to be dealing with a perfect storm of outside hostility combined with inside hostility," argued Maggie. "So I would say to hold your breath and break with precedence, however cringeworthy it may be...," she turned her gaze to Bernard. "...'Light Between Worlds', though? I think that might be a bit vague. How about something like...say...'A World Informed: Within and Without'?"
"'A World of Growth, A World of Connection'," I added.
"Fine. I'll give it some thought," said Aledon as he took out a pen and paper to jot down the slogan ideas. "Perhaps we should all give it some thought for next meeting, though.... In the meantime," he turned toward me, "Max. I know you're a Horticulture major, but I remember that you also have, what I feel, a good sense of writing. I would like for you to draft our next few OCEA posts, and theme it around growth, like what you're studying. Something metaphorical. Something hopeful."
"As long as it's not hopeful in a desperate way," Maggie added.
"I think I can manage to avoid that vibe," I assured her, before turning back toward Aledon. "Growth," I said, half to the meeting and half to myself, remembering the conversation I had with Dr. Jaynes earlier today, "Yes. I am sure I can come up with something."
The rest of the meeting, from that point forward, involved mostly a verbal list of group assignments given by Aledon in orderly fashion. While listening to this, I began to realize how high the stakes were, both in University politics and in the Third Level Society. But there was also hope - more than hope, in fact. And now I, myself, had a stake in the outcome of things. The atmosphere in our packed Common Room buzzed with renewed purpose. None of us were naive, not even myself. We knew that Monika had the numbers, the influence, and the allies, enough to sway the Society election in her favor if certain things went certain ways. But hope is its own form of energy. And it begins small and seemingly insignificant, like seedlings breaking through and emerging from soil for the first time.
Maybe even tomorrow, those seedlings will take in sunlight and grow into something big.
***
I keep thinking about the conversation I had with Dr. Jaynes this morning, and how he advised me to focus more on building up my original ecosystem before reaching out to others. I do not think he was merely talking about the order of things for my big project; it seems to me like he was hinting at something more - like he was hoping I would to attain a higher level of patience and foundation. Now I realize that such applies not only with my plant project but to other things as well. I've been thinking how Dr. Jaynes' advice and how it related to that of Maggie, who was telling my brother, Aledon, to focus more on life within the Third Level Society rather than everything outside of it.
Our whole society is in a period of transition. In the past, everything was cable rails, ticker-text devices, and traditional airships. The world of tomorrow is certainly one of gyroplanes, OCEA comm tabs, and even space travel. Our society, like every other ecosystem, is evolving. And with that change comes important factors to determine whether that change is our strength or our undoing. Being that such change is fast-paced, chaos ensues within some minds that try to take it all in.
That's where Stamp comes in. He is aware of how some people feel about the rate of change, and is capitalizing on that in order to earn votes, thus giving him the power to do...who knows what...to the University.
And completely ignoring that, which Monika seems wanting to have the Society do under her supposed leadership, only casts the image that she is out of touch with anyone outside of her community bubble, thus adding fuel to the flame. I still feel a bit nervous, seeing every single one of Monika's posts ripe with support and popularity. Aledon's posts have been receiving lukewarm responses in comparison. Maybe it's because he's the incumbent Dungeonmaster, who everyone takes for granted; but then again, maybe everyone is tired of Aledon as an incumbent.
Still, tonight's meeting gave me hope. Even with the little time left, these changes in Aledon's approach may still yet tip the scales in his favor and win him another year.
Aledon is still my brother, but I've noticed how much he's changed. Even during the summer before he started University, he and I had a more playful approach in life, doing things like chasing lightning bugs in our backyard back in North Kempton. I miss that playfulness in him but his approach now fits the bill of what needs to happen.
I feel like Cabotton University is a microcosm of the world at large. Here, we have Stamp to contend with. Out there, the entire Circlarian Realm has a new emerging influence of its own: the Kingdom of Gyrosak. They are quickly gaining possession of properties beyond its shores, especially large shares of the Meredythian Isles. And they've been doing so without firing a single shot, very different from the violent possession by the Vandalian Maritime Kingdom 150 years ago. Gyrosak, on the other hand, is taking a more clever approach: selling local inhabitants the idea of getting rich quickly from free, unregulated trade. Of course, it's a scam. But just the right situation breeds emotional resolve to outpace the logical.
Hopefully that sort of thing won't happen here.
Perhaps I would have had just as guilty of a reputation had I been ambitiously reaching out to those beekeepers for my project.
Or perhaps I'm overthinking. The Campus outside is quiet now, and it's well past midnight. The lamps along the walking paths below are pulsing faintly with blue light, occasionally going in sync so that the entire campus appears as a beating heart. The air is warm too, still with summer in it.
I will end with this: regardless of the outcome, either with Aledon or the Headmaster candidates next year, this period in the history of the University will go down as a turning point. It's my aim to be either a contributor to this community being saved or to be one of the ones that tried to save it.