Where the sun shines
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I challenged myself to write in a different style. Hope you'll like it.
Spoilers: The Storm & The Eye.
Summary: The silence that comes after the storm.
It's a warm day in Atlantis. The sun is shining and the mainland is blossoming. They haven't lost all the crops so they will soon have the harvest they've been waiting for to feed everyone. Maybe they'll even arrange a party just for the knack of things.
The gateroom is cool and comfortable, though. The city takes care of that. There are not many people on the command now, only the ones essential for reassuring that nothing will go wrong. The storm has passed, the Genii aren't likely to come back soon and all the damage has already been mended.
It's quiet. Everyone is in their room now. It's too hot to be anywhere else. There are two people playing cards in their room; each got their deck from home. One is a heritage from a grandfather while the other is a gift from a lost love in the 5th grade. Neither have wrinkles or traditional ketchup stains, even if the lamination is a bit off.
There is a large group of people in the cafeteria pigging out on ice cream. Or what's left of it. They are laughing and telling heroic stories about old times and new adventures. Maybe of things they dreamt they had done, or wished they would never have to.
The labs are calm as well. Each finger that hits each letter in the computer is heard loud and clears, echoing. None of the scientists is talking. There is no need of voice. Not in time like this. They are not doing anything important. Maybe feeling that they need a vacation after the days before. Maybe even the air conditioner doesn't fool them that it was indeed hot. Who knows of the hearts of scientists?
Everyone is busy with their work. All, but one. One seat is empty.
He is lying in his room, a blanket covering his head completely. He's ignoring the heat. There's no motion that could be seen from the outside but if one would get close enough he would be able to see the tiny shuddering of the bed.
The room is a mess. Something between his usual clutter and a zoo. There is only one picture still intact on the walls- of Einstein. His own pictures, his family and his team's are broken on the floor, shreds of glass scattering around. A particularly large piece is lying near the bed and something red is gleaming on its corner.
A winged larva is entering the room through the broken window and buzzing in the room. Its voice is very annoying on the background of the nothing yet the man does not get up. In fact, his breathing is getting more even and calm.
The new species of fly that in time will be called A Less Than Common Fly (LTCF) by a good- natured zoologist is descending on the floor and walking on it. Probably trying to find something edible after he lost all he had by the storm. Sensing something alive nearby, he flies to the blanket and starts searching for a way in it.
Only then there's a hand coming out of the blanket and shooing the fly away. The blanket is being pealed and tossed to the ground and the door of the room is being opened by the command of the man inside it.
On his way out he steps over a shred of glass. He doesn't even feel it.
He goes to the balcony. No one is there. This is probably why he chose to go there.
There's a calming wind stroking his cheek and warm rays of sunshine are giving him light. The humidity in the air is high due to the closeness for the ocean, and not long after, the drops of water are gathering on his face, sliding down in the form of sweat.
Yet he does not move. He keeps clinging to the banister, his knuckles white. It's a good thing that he doesn't afraid from heights, because this is pretty high up there. He is bending over in his search, and then he finds it. He takes the stone is his hand, and lets it go.
Probably wants to check if the laws of gravity are still working.
There's a silence for a few seconds, and then- it hits the water.
His face isn't sowing any sign that he's aware of what just happened. His eyes are clouded and are staring forward to the mist that the water is making. He stands for a few minutes until he is almost one with the fog that surrounds him, there's not an end or a beginning- just the grayness that is stretched beyond the horizon.
Voices are penetrating the illusion that he's alone in the world. They are closing to the balcony, the tunes cheerful and high. One of them is talking about the game Solitaire, explaining it. The red headed woman is listening carefully; her whole being is swallowed by the opportunity of discovering new things. She responds to him and tells him of a similar game in her own culture. Gatiera. The man refuses to believe that this game can be better. In their heated discussion their voices are even higher and louder than usual, and their paces are more definite and fast. Then they are passing the door and moving on to their better tasks.
The man that is standing in the balcony didn't notice that they've been here. Didn't notice they are gone.
There's a pigeon- like bird that is descending to the banister and trying to poke holes in it. At first the man is ignoring her but after a while he is looking at her, his expression troubled. The troops of pigeon- like creatures are passing by but the bird continues its task and ignores its fellow birds. Only for a second it stops its pecking and looks at him in wonder. Probably pondering about the enormity of the worm that is standing near, and why god couldn't make it smaller so it could fit to the bird's mouth.
Surrender is registered on its face and then it's returning to its task.
At last, it succeeds. In a hole in the brick the man can see 3 brownish eggs. The bird is knocking with its beak on the shell of the eggs, harder and harder. The first egg is being cracked and there's yellow dough leaking outside. It stays like that for a moment and then it meets the air and solidifies.
At the background of the mist it almost looks red.
The mother turns its attention to the next egg, and when it is cracked open the goo is spilled outside as well.
The third egg wouldn't open.
The birds peaks it harder than it did to any of the other eggs, but its destiny is the same when it finally meets the air.
The pigeon –like bird is making a loud, desperate noise and leaving the place as quick as its brown wings could carry it.
The man that watches the ceremony is staring at where the bird was, before he's turning around and getting inside the building.
He's being welcomed by a wave of coolness. But this is only when he reaches his over- heated room that he can lie down and rest.
The bird is coming back to another slit, opens it and this time finds 2 healthy fledglings waiting for their mother. It is wrapping them with its wings and watches as they try to fly.
One chick is falling to the sea and even as the mother speeds down to catch it, she misses. But the last chick is spreading its wings and fly after its mom to faraway lands.
The chick hopes it will catch her but knows that it needn't worry. Its mommy will wait for him.
The bird is hoping that this child will stay healthy and free.
The man is in his room again. He didn't see any of what happened to the bird after he left. He probably wouldn't have cared.
He is lying in his bed, a blanket covering his head completely and ignores the heat.
He will soon fall asleep but before he will, he will get up and turn on the air conditioner in his room. He has to sleep, after all.
Tomorrow there's another day in Atlantis.