"Fire, water, and government know nothing of mercy."
It's an old Albanian proverb that my mother taught me as a child. Living on the shores of Australia, I learned the first two rather easy.
Fire was a part of my everyday life. The flames of the stove as my mother cooked breakfast before school. The flickering fire of the candles that lit our home during the power outages. The orange color of my hair that my sister brushed for me every night before bed. I was accustomed to fire from an early age.
Fire was something to be respected. At age three, I learned that trying to grab the flame or a candle I found especially pretty. The stinging in my pale, burnt fingers and my mothers' scolding taught me well. At age five and one half, I saw my first wildfire. The news was on at home after school. I watched as I drank my juice box, curious what the big fuss was about. The newscasters' somber voice and my mother's grim face told me plenty. This was not good.
The wildfire ended up spreading to part of my town. My mother took what things we could spare and brought them to our neighbors. As I helped give out our few offerings, I found I quite liked helping people. The smiles that they gave in return was plenty enough for me.
Water was another part of everyday life. The ocean that I saw everyday on the way to school. The rainstorms that came in from the sea, pattering on the roof of our homes. The deep blue color of my eyes, like a lake that you could endlessly swim through. Water was there from the beginning of my life.
My summers were spent swimming through the ocean. I learned to swim in a rather unconventional way. By almost drowning. I fell off a sand bank and into a deeper area than I could stand in. My sister saw me fall, and went for my mother. When they rushed back, I was paddling and just barely keeping my head above the water. The week after this event I had pneumonia from the water that got in my lungs. The racking coughs told me I should not underestimate the ocean.
The summer also brought rainstorms. I would hear the pitter patter begin, and run for the door. I loved the gentle rain that I could play in, jumping44 in puddles and skipping through mud. I loved the thunderstorms, watching the lightning strike and listening for the rumble of thunder.
My mother would help me brush my copper hair after playing in water. While stick straight and compliant when dry, after causing mischief in the water it became wild and unruly. We would sit in front of the fireplace and she would tame the wild beast my hair had become. I didn't truly appreciate that she did that for me. I didn't appreciate many things that my mother and sister did for me.
It wasn't until age eight that I learned what that particular phrase meant by the third word in that list. "Fire, water, and government know nothing of mercy."
Growing up in this small coastal town of the outback, I wasn't exposed to many things outside my little world. I didn't understand why mother watched the news mostly at night when I was in bed. I didn't know what an omnic was, or why they seemed to scare the grown-ups of my town. I didn't know why the government giving up a factory to the omnics was such a big deal. I simply didn't understand that my world was going to change.
I was eight years old when my world went up in flames. The day started out normal, like any other school day. I woke up to the smell of my mother's cooking. My sister had already woken up and was brushing her teeth. My nose scrunched at the sight or that. I hated eating after brushing my teeth, the mint taste of toothpaste messing with the flavors of the food.
I brushed my long amber hair, and put on clothes for school. Going to the kitchen, we ate breakfast as a family. Mom went to work halfway through the meal. I slipped my shoes on and my sister walked me to my school. The day went on as normal.
Being a child, I didn't understand why the teacher left the classroom and came back pale, looking like she might faint at any moment. I didn't understand why parents flooded the school, picking up their children and hurrying off. I didn't understand why my mom came for me before the school day was over, looking like she might break down in tears at any moment. I didn't understand why the town looked so different, bathed in the flames I thought I loved.
My mom tried to explain to me.
"Its nothing sweetheart, we are going to be okay." I didn't understand. We ran towards the town hall, where my mother said there was a safe place to be.
"Remember what your teacher taught you last week? About the omnium and how omnics were working there?" I didn't understand. We didn't make it far. At the path next to the beach, halfway to the town hall, there was a group of men with loud machines in their hands and omnics as far as I could see
"You know the big scary robots that you promised mommy you would stay away from?" I didn't understand. My mother desperately looked for a place to hide. There was a small hole in the wall of sand that lined the shore.
"Sweetheart, you know the game we play at home? Where you hide and I try to find you? We are going to play that for a little bit! I need you to hide here until I find you." I didn't understand what was going on at all. I went to the small hole and crawled until my mother could barely see me.
"Emily Elizabeth Smith, I love you. You know that right?" She said. Her voice cracked at the end. I didn't understand why.
"Yes momma, I know that. Are we gonna play that game now?" I replied. I didn't understand why we were playing a game, but I was excited to try.
"Sure sweetie, remember to be quiet as a mouse, and stay there 'til I come get you. I love you." She rushed off before fully finishing that sentence.
I stayed there for what seemed like hours. I stayed quiet like my mother told me to. I was quiet while the noises got louder. I was quiet when I heard screaming, wild and terrified. I was quiet while the noises went on and on, only to stop to silence. The sound of the sea and the waves crashing upon the shore was my only company for what seemed like hours.
It was dark and quiet when I finally got out of the hole. I didn't understand why my mother never came for me. When I crawled out, and climbed up the sand dunes to see the wreckage, I finally understood.
There was the smell of iron and copper in the air. Smoke wafted up from the ruined buildings that faced me. But most importantly, was the bodies in front of me, omnic and human alike. It wasn't something a child should see, but I was there regardless. The men with the machines that had blocked our way were dead. The omnics that had scared me so bad were dead.
My mother, who moved no more, was dead.
She was on the ground, riddled with holes. She seemed to be reaching for the ocean, away from all the violence that she must have faced. Her eyes closed, face unmarred, I could have believed she was sleeping. I could have believed that she was taking her afternoon nap after a hard day of work. I finally understood what she was doing the whole time.
She was protecting me. And now she was gone.
As far as I could see, there was wreckage and the remains of violence. I didn't know what to do. So I did what any child would do in my situation. I sat down next to what remained of my mother, and I cried. My pale face was streaked with soot from the burning buildings around me. My deep blue eyes were filled with tears that screamed of my sorrow. My hair, the color of the flames of my home, surrounded me in a wild tangle.
But through all of this sorrow, I still remained quiet. It was the last thing my mother asked me to do. I had decided to do it well. I sat next to her body, shaking with silent sobs for the rest of the night. The flames that I had loved lit up the night, and the sound of the sea I grew up with filled the night.
I had later learned the reason that all of this happened was because of the omnics and the government. The government gave them the omnium that so many people had worked in. The government gave no aid to the people displaced. So the people rebelled. The omnics fought back, and it led to the omnium being blown to bits. My town was caught in the crossfire, and destroyed.
At age eight, my world went up in flames. At age eight, I truly understood the phrase that my mother tried to teach me.
"Fire, water, and government know nothing of mercy."