Chapter 3: Insight
A dense mist shrouded most of the two-story home, the stench of the animal pens was being carried a ways in the thick cloud. The clumping of sneakers was echoing through the hilly landscape and bouncing off of the moss-covered trees, coming back to the small ears of Charlie Weston. With small, pudgy fingers closing his nose, he made the walk up the long path leading to his home, a midwestern farmhouse. The backpack was heavy, full of the books he needed for the homework still to be completed. A light wind was in the air, blowing his bowl-cut hair to and fro.
With a grunt, the child of twelve walked up the porch steps and knocked on the door, to which the screened piece of wood squealed as it moved, ajar in the door rest. With a meek "Mom? Dad?" the young boy walked into the foyer, dropping the heavy pack onto the wooden floor. His footsteps echoed as he headed to the kitchen, eyes darting about, checking for the presence of his parents. With the first floor checked, a growing nervousness struck the small figure, hands shaky as he made his way up the stairs to the second floor.
Charlie's small hand ran along the banister as he quickly moved towards the upstairs computer room. Once more, only silence greeted his shaky, questioning voice. Finally, he made his way to the far end of the hall and knocked on his parents' bedroom door. It, like the front door, was ajar, and creaked slightly open at the knock. The odor that filled the young boy's nostrils immediately incited his lunch to be released the way it had gone down. Once his stomach had emptied and the bile was not coming, the boy's hand pushed the door open, the other hand busy holding his nostrils closed. The tears from the stench were still in his eyes, and he blinked them away only for more to come as he saw his mother lying on the floor, naked. The only discerning feature left on her face was her eyes. They were open in shock. The lower jaw was missing, as well as her nose. Tears and cuts were all over her body, stab wounds as well. The teary eyes of young Weston moved to the lifeless figure of his father, whose frail figure lay on the bed, a multitude of red stab wounds covering his body. Gone was the stale woody smell in the room, replaced by the metallic smell of coagulated blood. In the heat of the day, the bodies also had begun a bit of decay, adding to the already potent odor.
With a cry so loud that Charlie couldn't believe it was coming from him, he ran back down the stairs. With a loud thud, he landed on the first floor and bolted out of the door, running into the nearby wheat field. After a quarter of a mile into the field, he found a man, sitting on a camping stool, cleaning a knife. Frozen with fear, young Weston watched as the man rose from the chair, eyes already on the stout young boy.
"Whatcha doin here, boy?"
To this, Weston did not reply.
"Cat got yer tongue, eh? Well, I'll fix that."
The scraggly man moved his lanky form towards Charlie, gnarled hand reaching for the young boy's. Weston felt, as the cold hand gripped his forehead, an extreme surge of anger. With a flash, his hand, now quite large and strong, gripped the wrist of his assailant.
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"Ahhh!"
"What the...let go of her!"
Weston felt an elbow's force punch into his forehead, and he let go of Yuna's wrist. With a cringe, he sat up, rubbing the now warm spot on his forehead. He blinked the blurriness from his eyes and saw in front of him the tall, bulky frame of the oddly dressed man he had met at the beach. To the red-hair's right was the pale, lithe female he had also met at the beach. A little off to the side of the bed he was laying on was a young girl, of about eighteen, rubbing her wrist as her blue-green eyes showed a slight hint of fear. Weston sighed and rubbed his face, which, oddly, had a medium-sized beard on it.
"How long..."
"Nearly a week," replied the woman in black.
"Holy..."
The red-hair moved forward. "Listen, brudda. I understand you might be going through somethin' or what not, but don't grab Yuna like that again, ya hear? She tended to your wounds while you slept there like a baby."
Weston, still not understanding the situation, nodded, and muttered an apology.
"I'm not the one you need to be apologizing to."
Weston turned to the girl and repeated the apology. She nodded curtly and left the hut without a word. The pale woman followed suit and left him with the red-hair.
With a nod, the tanned man sat down on a stool next to the bed.
"Listen, Charles or whoever you are. We gotta talk, ya? Something's going on here that Yuna just can't figure out and Lu's having a troublesome time with whatever was in that bag you had on."
"Rucksack..."
"Whatever. Well, we need some answers, and none of this baloney bout some sort of state. Your outfit has some odd markings on it and we need a full explanation. When you're ready, I'd like to take you to the temple and meet with the others. There, we can have a nice talk about who you are and where you come from. No funny business, ya?"
Weston, whose eyes were scanning his lightly clad body, nodded and turned on the bed, bare feet hitting dirt and grass. In a raspy, tired voice, he managed, "Where's my gear?"
"Your stuff's in the temple. Come on and we can get it, after that talk."
Weston nodded and followed the burly redhead out into the sun.
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Weston's bare feet nearly sang when they finally felt the cold marble of the temple's main hall. The tanned behemoth, now known to Weston as Wakka, led him into a small room to the right of a pair of statues. Through a heavy door, the two walked into a medium sized round room with books all over it. Sitting at the round table in the center was the pale woman known as Lulu, the girl Yuna, and the dirty blond known as Rikku. Rikku, who had yet to see the stranger from the sky, leapt from her seat, her small hand grabbing Weston's, shaking it.
"Hi, I'm Rikku. Nice to meet you!"
Weston nodded and sat down, Wakka sitting next to him. Rikku ran around to the side with the girls and sat. Weston recognized his rucksack, which was lying in the center of the table, contents splayed out, covering the marble.
Wakka was the first to speak after a long silence filled with curious and nervous glances. "Well, we understand some of this stuff. Like the food and the water flask. But this rectangular metal object is a bit perplexing, as well as this white box. It seems to be filled with...what look like potions...I think-"
Weston interrupted. "The rectangular object is a PDA, or personal digital assistant. It is a universal translator, infrared information gatherer, and well, does anything except wash my skivvies and heal wounds. The wounds part is what the white box is for. It's a first aid kit. The universal solvent for bullet wounds, scrapes, stabs, gashes, rashes, and minor abrasions. It helps you stay alive until you can get some form of medical treatment."
He smiled and looked around, satisfied with his explanation. The others, however, weren't as pleased and looked rather confused. To this Weston shrugged and grabbed the PDA, flipping open its leather cover. He extracted the Stylus out of the top and turned it on. With a beep, it clicked on and he logged in as usual. "I'm glad this survived my fall...it's invaluable to a soldier."
"Oh...are you a crusader?" asked Rikku.
"A what? No. I'm a soldier in the United States Army."
Wakka cleared his throat. "Hey, what did I say-"
Weston held up his hand. "Wakka, I am who I say I am. I believe my PDA may be able to explain some things."
With that, Weston opened a small window on the backlit color screen. With another beep, the screen flashed with the new information message. Weston hmmed and tapped the screen with the Stylus, making the program open the information reader. What popped up were a diagram sheet, a few pages of Chinese lettering, and a memo. Weston hmmed and pressed the translate button within the image viewer. In a few moments, the text turned into English and Weston read it quickly. After a few moments, he noticed the others becoming a bit impatient. He exited the documents and turned the small gadget off, flipping the leather cover back down. He stuffed it into the side leg pocket of his fatigues.
"And what did this...PDA...just tell you?" the gruff, cold voice of Lulu inquired. Weston shrugged. "Just some intel from the mission I was on. It must have gathered as I was going through that office building. Very interesting though. Said something about a Yttrium Evolved Vehicular Organic Nucleate, which is shortened to Y-E-V-O-N. Seems that it's the driving force of what my squad and I were after. Some sort of hyper-learning AI based computer that uses organic tissue to protect itself. But that information is useless to me now..."
To this, the others had the same confused, quizzical looks. Weston cleared his throat, laying his head on the stone table. "I don't think I'm getting anywhere. Just ask questions and I'll answer the best I can."
Lulu, who Weston was sure had a lot of questions, spoke first. "How about the basics, then? Age, occupation, things of that sort."
Weston sighed and brought his head up, eyes going to each of the people in front of him as he spoke. "I'm Charles Weston. I'm twenty-six years of age. I am enlisted in the United States Army. The United States is my country. The Army is the land-bound branch of the military. The other branches are the Navy, the Air Force, and the Marines. I am a technology specialist in a team of infantrymen. I've been on a few missions and, yes, I have killed more than my fair share of men."
Lulu nodded neutrally while Yuna and Rikku cringed at the mention of killing. Wakka, while also disgusted, raised a finger. "Not to be a pest, bud, but we've never heard of a place called "United States", and we've been all over Spira."
"You mean Earth," Weston corrected.
"Earth?" It was Rikku who posed this question.
Weston sighed and took his PDA out once more, cutting it on and bringing up a map of the world. The built in GPS, Weston noticed, had marked his position on the map. According to latitude and longitude readings, he was near Honomu, Hawaii. He blew up the map and passed the small computer to Wakka.
"If you can see, this is a map of Earth, every continent."
Wakka studied it and handed it to Lulu, who also studied it awhile before passing it to Yuna. Perplexed, Yuna spoke up.
"This does not look like Spira...but has some resemblances..."
Weston nodded. "I'll have to see a map of your 'Spira' and compare. I still don't know where the hell I am, though. I'm feeling really out of place..."
Rikku chimed in. "You do look out of place!"
Weston laughed. "Thanks."
Wakka pointed to Rikku. "Hey, Rikku. Don't talk to him like that."
Rikku rolled her eyes and mumbled a "Yes, sir."
Weston laughed still, putting his head down on the table.
Yuna offered the next question. "Your United States...is it under the rule of a maester?"
Weston blinked, wondering why he was going to have to explain his country's government to people who spoke English and looked relatively American. "It's ruled by the people. The government is a democracy, where everyone has his or her equal political rights. A president is elected every four years. There is a Congress, where representatives from every state within the country meet to pass laws. The same goes for the House of Representatives. Each state has its own government that passes any needed laws that aren't on the national level. Taxes are also state controlled. I could go on, but I can see your faces and I'll stop here."
Lulu, who had dropped her cold exterior to display a curious and somewhat puzzled look, commented, "Sounds quite complicated."
"It's a large country...it has to be."
Lulu nodded and looked to Yuna. Yuna seemed to get the message and turned her multi-colored eyes back to Weston.
"Mr. Weston, sir, Spira's government is...nothing compared to what you're used to. I was named Maestress after defeating Sin..."
It was Weston's turn to give the confused look.
Yuna smiled, nodding. "I'm sure you do not know what I'm speaking of..." Weston nodded.
Yuna smiled and offered some explanation. "The government of Spira is run by the Maester or Maestress, even though they have little power. I cannot stretch the arm of law and order everywhere, and ever since the religion crumbled, it has been even harder to keep control of some areas. The people of Spira are split. Those who still believe in Yevon, and those who accept that Yevon was not what he seemed."
Weston looked curious. "Your religion...crumbled?"
Yuna nodded. "We," she proceeded to motion her arm, including every one at the table save Weston in "we", "defeated Sin, the vehicle of death that Yu Yevon wielded as armor to keep the cycle of life and death moving. With it, he instilled his power and the fear of that power into the people of Spira."
Weston hmmed. "In other words, he was a tyrant and you four took care of him in rebellion. Sounds like you did the right thing."
Yuna sighed, nodding. "But still, it tore the people of Spira in two."
Rikku chimed in. "And it was seven...not four..."
Weston hmmed curiously. Wakka offered the explanation.
"We had three others. Tidus, Auron, and Kihmari. Auron and Tidus...are in the Farplane. Kihmari has gone to Mount Gagazet to try and rebuild the Ronso tribe."
To this, Weston could only nod. He'd have to learn more of this "Sin" business and more of the war that raged against it later. But then again, his mind wasn't exactly stressing on the history of this Spira and its people. He wanted to find his way home, but somehow knew that that had gone out the window the moment he woke up in a strange hut surrounded by strange people. It was just his luck to be stuck in some alternate dimension with no means of going back to his own. Of course, Weston knew he was just rambling on and on in his own mind, letting his thoughts move about rapidly, trying to explain where or when he was.
"Yo, bud, wake up, ya?"
Weston jumped in his chair, Rikku laughing behind a palm as he did so.
Wakka hmmed. "I asked if you would like to explain this...machina you had in this satchel."
"That's a holster. It houses my gun, or pistol."
Yuna chimed in. "Machina...are what we call machines, or anything that does not require pure human force to make it perform an action."
Weston nodded. "So you don't have computers, I take it."
They all stared at him with puzzled looks.
Weston laughed, shaking his head. "I thought not. Well, to tell you the truth, where I come from, our lives revolve around 'machina'. We use them to get to places, to find our way, to help us in education and entertainment, and they affect us in every facet of life. And yes, they are used in war as well."
With this, Weston smiled to himself, now thinking himself to be in the past. With that, of course, came the complications of adapting to a society without advanced technology. But still, he could teach these people a thing or two, so he smiled, outwardly, to the four sitting with him at the table.
Yuna and Rikku were the only ones who smiled back his way. Lulu leaned over and whispered something to Wakka, who nodded in return. The two got up and excused themselves.
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"I'm torn. He sounds sincere, but if what he says is true, then he's obviously not from our time. And if that is true, then we have another Tidus on our hands. Tidus had a reason for being here, Wakka. But this Charles fellow...what's his reason for being here? We're at peace. There is no Sin and no Yevon to disturb Spira..."
Wakka sighed, squinting as the afternoon sun shone into his eyes. "I know that, Lu. But, like I've always said, 'everything has a reason, Yevon or not.'"
Lulu shut her mahogany eyes and sighed. "Why do these things have to happen to us? If it's not Sin, it's some traveler from some far off land or time."
Wakka sighed and wrapped his arms around her thin frame, his own covering hers. She sighed and nuzzled into his stubbly cheek, reveling in the intimate nature of the embrace. For so long, she had wanted this to happen, but now that it was, she was confused over what to label it, and she prayed that he was as sincere about it as she was becoming.
"Shh, Lu. No need to worry. I'll put 'em to work tomorrow, if he can make it. We have to finish up the renovations to the Liki and I need an extra hand or two. Who cares who and what he says he is. Long as he's a good guy, everything's under control, ya?"
Lulu nodded in response, but spoke no more and nuzzled into the nape of his neck before breaking the embrace. "I'll go get a dinner started. Inform our...guest that he's invited to dinner at the Crusader's lodge. Yuna and Rikku, too."
Wakka smiled and, with a nod, turned on his heel back towards the temple.
Lulu watched him walk away, silently pondering what would become of the sudden intimacy expressed between them. She, too, thought of the stranger, and how he would come into play. As always, a biting feeling came to her that he meant trouble, but if it was direct or indirect, she could not tell. All she knew was that the next few days would not be ordinary days.
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Wakka walked back into the room, feeling awkward, since he had just come into the middle of a conversation. The others didn't take notice and he leaned against the doorjamb, listening.
"So, you mean to tell me that where you're from, everyone can talk to everyone else by just looking at a screen and typing some words?"
"Well, simply put, yes, you can do that Rikku. I won't try to go into the schematics of it, but everyone is connected to everyone else, not through spiritual means, but through technological means. The machina in my country not only entertains, but also saves lives. We don't have magic or potions. We have surgery, medicine, and long-term treatment. Surgery is a form of treatment that requires a practitioner to put the patient under a form of anesthesia, or something that won't make them fall asleep, and literally go inside their bodies and fix the problem. They cut the person open where they have a problem, fix it, or help it, and then sew them back up."
At this, Yuna nodded, and unlike Rikku, was able to hold back the look of disgust.
Weston laughed. "It may be 'gross' but it works. It's the best way to be treated, really. But some things we can't cure. Cancer and AIDS. But I won't go into those, since I doubt you've even heard of them."
Yuna, once again, nodded in response, but added a smile. "It is very interesting, learning about your culture."
Weston smiled, and turned, noticing Wakka.
Wakka cleared his throat and nodded. "Sorry for the interruption, but I've come to tell you that you're all invited to a big dinner at the Lodge. If ya want good eats, I suggest coming." He smiled.
Weston hmmed, trying to imagine what sort of food this place would have. As the other two sat up and smiled, thanking him for what he had told them, he began to think over many things. His mind raced, a direct opposite of what he showed on the outside. To the three in the doorway, he was just a guy filling his sack with his gear. But on the inside, Weston was torn between the urge to adapt and the urge to find a way home. He sighed and looked at his PDA, writing in a note on the calendar. He didn't know what day it was, so he just set a reminder. Scrawled in his own handwriting, the words "Get the hell out of here" were displayed back to him on the screen. With a smirk, he turned the device of and threw the rucksack over his shoulder, its weight considerable.
He followed the three outside and was shown to his makeshift hut near the one he had come out of earlier. He tossed his rucksack into the corner and plopped onto the cot in the center. With his hands behind his head and his legs bent, knees in the air, he closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep in the afternoon heat.
A dense mist shrouded most of the two-story home, the stench of the animal pens was being carried a ways in the thick cloud. The clumping of sneakers was echoing through the hilly landscape and bouncing off of the moss-covered trees, coming back to the small ears of Charlie Weston. With small, pudgy fingers closing his nose, he made the walk up the long path leading to his home, a midwestern farmhouse. The backpack was heavy, full of the books he needed for the homework still to be completed. A light wind was in the air, blowing his bowl-cut hair to and fro.
With a grunt, the child of twelve walked up the porch steps and knocked on the door, to which the screened piece of wood squealed as it moved, ajar in the door rest. With a meek "Mom? Dad?" the young boy walked into the foyer, dropping the heavy pack onto the wooden floor. His footsteps echoed as he headed to the kitchen, eyes darting about, checking for the presence of his parents. With the first floor checked, a growing nervousness struck the small figure, hands shaky as he made his way up the stairs to the second floor.
Charlie's small hand ran along the banister as he quickly moved towards the upstairs computer room. Once more, only silence greeted his shaky, questioning voice. Finally, he made his way to the far end of the hall and knocked on his parents' bedroom door. It, like the front door, was ajar, and creaked slightly open at the knock. The odor that filled the young boy's nostrils immediately incited his lunch to be released the way it had gone down. Once his stomach had emptied and the bile was not coming, the boy's hand pushed the door open, the other hand busy holding his nostrils closed. The tears from the stench were still in his eyes, and he blinked them away only for more to come as he saw his mother lying on the floor, naked. The only discerning feature left on her face was her eyes. They were open in shock. The lower jaw was missing, as well as her nose. Tears and cuts were all over her body, stab wounds as well. The teary eyes of young Weston moved to the lifeless figure of his father, whose frail figure lay on the bed, a multitude of red stab wounds covering his body. Gone was the stale woody smell in the room, replaced by the metallic smell of coagulated blood. In the heat of the day, the bodies also had begun a bit of decay, adding to the already potent odor.
With a cry so loud that Charlie couldn't believe it was coming from him, he ran back down the stairs. With a loud thud, he landed on the first floor and bolted out of the door, running into the nearby wheat field. After a quarter of a mile into the field, he found a man, sitting on a camping stool, cleaning a knife. Frozen with fear, young Weston watched as the man rose from the chair, eyes already on the stout young boy.
"Whatcha doin here, boy?"
To this, Weston did not reply.
"Cat got yer tongue, eh? Well, I'll fix that."
The scraggly man moved his lanky form towards Charlie, gnarled hand reaching for the young boy's. Weston felt, as the cold hand gripped his forehead, an extreme surge of anger. With a flash, his hand, now quite large and strong, gripped the wrist of his assailant.
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"Ahhh!"
"What the...let go of her!"
Weston felt an elbow's force punch into his forehead, and he let go of Yuna's wrist. With a cringe, he sat up, rubbing the now warm spot on his forehead. He blinked the blurriness from his eyes and saw in front of him the tall, bulky frame of the oddly dressed man he had met at the beach. To the red-hair's right was the pale, lithe female he had also met at the beach. A little off to the side of the bed he was laying on was a young girl, of about eighteen, rubbing her wrist as her blue-green eyes showed a slight hint of fear. Weston sighed and rubbed his face, which, oddly, had a medium-sized beard on it.
"How long..."
"Nearly a week," replied the woman in black.
"Holy..."
The red-hair moved forward. "Listen, brudda. I understand you might be going through somethin' or what not, but don't grab Yuna like that again, ya hear? She tended to your wounds while you slept there like a baby."
Weston, still not understanding the situation, nodded, and muttered an apology.
"I'm not the one you need to be apologizing to."
Weston turned to the girl and repeated the apology. She nodded curtly and left the hut without a word. The pale woman followed suit and left him with the red-hair.
With a nod, the tanned man sat down on a stool next to the bed.
"Listen, Charles or whoever you are. We gotta talk, ya? Something's going on here that Yuna just can't figure out and Lu's having a troublesome time with whatever was in that bag you had on."
"Rucksack..."
"Whatever. Well, we need some answers, and none of this baloney bout some sort of state. Your outfit has some odd markings on it and we need a full explanation. When you're ready, I'd like to take you to the temple and meet with the others. There, we can have a nice talk about who you are and where you come from. No funny business, ya?"
Weston, whose eyes were scanning his lightly clad body, nodded and turned on the bed, bare feet hitting dirt and grass. In a raspy, tired voice, he managed, "Where's my gear?"
"Your stuff's in the temple. Come on and we can get it, after that talk."
Weston nodded and followed the burly redhead out into the sun.
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Weston's bare feet nearly sang when they finally felt the cold marble of the temple's main hall. The tanned behemoth, now known to Weston as Wakka, led him into a small room to the right of a pair of statues. Through a heavy door, the two walked into a medium sized round room with books all over it. Sitting at the round table in the center was the pale woman known as Lulu, the girl Yuna, and the dirty blond known as Rikku. Rikku, who had yet to see the stranger from the sky, leapt from her seat, her small hand grabbing Weston's, shaking it.
"Hi, I'm Rikku. Nice to meet you!"
Weston nodded and sat down, Wakka sitting next to him. Rikku ran around to the side with the girls and sat. Weston recognized his rucksack, which was lying in the center of the table, contents splayed out, covering the marble.
Wakka was the first to speak after a long silence filled with curious and nervous glances. "Well, we understand some of this stuff. Like the food and the water flask. But this rectangular metal object is a bit perplexing, as well as this white box. It seems to be filled with...what look like potions...I think-"
Weston interrupted. "The rectangular object is a PDA, or personal digital assistant. It is a universal translator, infrared information gatherer, and well, does anything except wash my skivvies and heal wounds. The wounds part is what the white box is for. It's a first aid kit. The universal solvent for bullet wounds, scrapes, stabs, gashes, rashes, and minor abrasions. It helps you stay alive until you can get some form of medical treatment."
He smiled and looked around, satisfied with his explanation. The others, however, weren't as pleased and looked rather confused. To this Weston shrugged and grabbed the PDA, flipping open its leather cover. He extracted the Stylus out of the top and turned it on. With a beep, it clicked on and he logged in as usual. "I'm glad this survived my fall...it's invaluable to a soldier."
"Oh...are you a crusader?" asked Rikku.
"A what? No. I'm a soldier in the United States Army."
Wakka cleared his throat. "Hey, what did I say-"
Weston held up his hand. "Wakka, I am who I say I am. I believe my PDA may be able to explain some things."
With that, Weston opened a small window on the backlit color screen. With another beep, the screen flashed with the new information message. Weston hmmed and tapped the screen with the Stylus, making the program open the information reader. What popped up were a diagram sheet, a few pages of Chinese lettering, and a memo. Weston hmmed and pressed the translate button within the image viewer. In a few moments, the text turned into English and Weston read it quickly. After a few moments, he noticed the others becoming a bit impatient. He exited the documents and turned the small gadget off, flipping the leather cover back down. He stuffed it into the side leg pocket of his fatigues.
"And what did this...PDA...just tell you?" the gruff, cold voice of Lulu inquired. Weston shrugged. "Just some intel from the mission I was on. It must have gathered as I was going through that office building. Very interesting though. Said something about a Yttrium Evolved Vehicular Organic Nucleate, which is shortened to Y-E-V-O-N. Seems that it's the driving force of what my squad and I were after. Some sort of hyper-learning AI based computer that uses organic tissue to protect itself. But that information is useless to me now..."
To this, the others had the same confused, quizzical looks. Weston cleared his throat, laying his head on the stone table. "I don't think I'm getting anywhere. Just ask questions and I'll answer the best I can."
Lulu, who Weston was sure had a lot of questions, spoke first. "How about the basics, then? Age, occupation, things of that sort."
Weston sighed and brought his head up, eyes going to each of the people in front of him as he spoke. "I'm Charles Weston. I'm twenty-six years of age. I am enlisted in the United States Army. The United States is my country. The Army is the land-bound branch of the military. The other branches are the Navy, the Air Force, and the Marines. I am a technology specialist in a team of infantrymen. I've been on a few missions and, yes, I have killed more than my fair share of men."
Lulu nodded neutrally while Yuna and Rikku cringed at the mention of killing. Wakka, while also disgusted, raised a finger. "Not to be a pest, bud, but we've never heard of a place called "United States", and we've been all over Spira."
"You mean Earth," Weston corrected.
"Earth?" It was Rikku who posed this question.
Weston sighed and took his PDA out once more, cutting it on and bringing up a map of the world. The built in GPS, Weston noticed, had marked his position on the map. According to latitude and longitude readings, he was near Honomu, Hawaii. He blew up the map and passed the small computer to Wakka.
"If you can see, this is a map of Earth, every continent."
Wakka studied it and handed it to Lulu, who also studied it awhile before passing it to Yuna. Perplexed, Yuna spoke up.
"This does not look like Spira...but has some resemblances..."
Weston nodded. "I'll have to see a map of your 'Spira' and compare. I still don't know where the hell I am, though. I'm feeling really out of place..."
Rikku chimed in. "You do look out of place!"
Weston laughed. "Thanks."
Wakka pointed to Rikku. "Hey, Rikku. Don't talk to him like that."
Rikku rolled her eyes and mumbled a "Yes, sir."
Weston laughed still, putting his head down on the table.
Yuna offered the next question. "Your United States...is it under the rule of a maester?"
Weston blinked, wondering why he was going to have to explain his country's government to people who spoke English and looked relatively American. "It's ruled by the people. The government is a democracy, where everyone has his or her equal political rights. A president is elected every four years. There is a Congress, where representatives from every state within the country meet to pass laws. The same goes for the House of Representatives. Each state has its own government that passes any needed laws that aren't on the national level. Taxes are also state controlled. I could go on, but I can see your faces and I'll stop here."
Lulu, who had dropped her cold exterior to display a curious and somewhat puzzled look, commented, "Sounds quite complicated."
"It's a large country...it has to be."
Lulu nodded and looked to Yuna. Yuna seemed to get the message and turned her multi-colored eyes back to Weston.
"Mr. Weston, sir, Spira's government is...nothing compared to what you're used to. I was named Maestress after defeating Sin..."
It was Weston's turn to give the confused look.
Yuna smiled, nodding. "I'm sure you do not know what I'm speaking of..." Weston nodded.
Yuna smiled and offered some explanation. "The government of Spira is run by the Maester or Maestress, even though they have little power. I cannot stretch the arm of law and order everywhere, and ever since the religion crumbled, it has been even harder to keep control of some areas. The people of Spira are split. Those who still believe in Yevon, and those who accept that Yevon was not what he seemed."
Weston looked curious. "Your religion...crumbled?"
Yuna nodded. "We," she proceeded to motion her arm, including every one at the table save Weston in "we", "defeated Sin, the vehicle of death that Yu Yevon wielded as armor to keep the cycle of life and death moving. With it, he instilled his power and the fear of that power into the people of Spira."
Weston hmmed. "In other words, he was a tyrant and you four took care of him in rebellion. Sounds like you did the right thing."
Yuna sighed, nodding. "But still, it tore the people of Spira in two."
Rikku chimed in. "And it was seven...not four..."
Weston hmmed curiously. Wakka offered the explanation.
"We had three others. Tidus, Auron, and Kihmari. Auron and Tidus...are in the Farplane. Kihmari has gone to Mount Gagazet to try and rebuild the Ronso tribe."
To this, Weston could only nod. He'd have to learn more of this "Sin" business and more of the war that raged against it later. But then again, his mind wasn't exactly stressing on the history of this Spira and its people. He wanted to find his way home, but somehow knew that that had gone out the window the moment he woke up in a strange hut surrounded by strange people. It was just his luck to be stuck in some alternate dimension with no means of going back to his own. Of course, Weston knew he was just rambling on and on in his own mind, letting his thoughts move about rapidly, trying to explain where or when he was.
"Yo, bud, wake up, ya?"
Weston jumped in his chair, Rikku laughing behind a palm as he did so.
Wakka hmmed. "I asked if you would like to explain this...machina you had in this satchel."
"That's a holster. It houses my gun, or pistol."
Yuna chimed in. "Machina...are what we call machines, or anything that does not require pure human force to make it perform an action."
Weston nodded. "So you don't have computers, I take it."
They all stared at him with puzzled looks.
Weston laughed, shaking his head. "I thought not. Well, to tell you the truth, where I come from, our lives revolve around 'machina'. We use them to get to places, to find our way, to help us in education and entertainment, and they affect us in every facet of life. And yes, they are used in war as well."
With this, Weston smiled to himself, now thinking himself to be in the past. With that, of course, came the complications of adapting to a society without advanced technology. But still, he could teach these people a thing or two, so he smiled, outwardly, to the four sitting with him at the table.
Yuna and Rikku were the only ones who smiled back his way. Lulu leaned over and whispered something to Wakka, who nodded in return. The two got up and excused themselves.
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"I'm torn. He sounds sincere, but if what he says is true, then he's obviously not from our time. And if that is true, then we have another Tidus on our hands. Tidus had a reason for being here, Wakka. But this Charles fellow...what's his reason for being here? We're at peace. There is no Sin and no Yevon to disturb Spira..."
Wakka sighed, squinting as the afternoon sun shone into his eyes. "I know that, Lu. But, like I've always said, 'everything has a reason, Yevon or not.'"
Lulu shut her mahogany eyes and sighed. "Why do these things have to happen to us? If it's not Sin, it's some traveler from some far off land or time."
Wakka sighed and wrapped his arms around her thin frame, his own covering hers. She sighed and nuzzled into his stubbly cheek, reveling in the intimate nature of the embrace. For so long, she had wanted this to happen, but now that it was, she was confused over what to label it, and she prayed that he was as sincere about it as she was becoming.
"Shh, Lu. No need to worry. I'll put 'em to work tomorrow, if he can make it. We have to finish up the renovations to the Liki and I need an extra hand or two. Who cares who and what he says he is. Long as he's a good guy, everything's under control, ya?"
Lulu nodded in response, but spoke no more and nuzzled into the nape of his neck before breaking the embrace. "I'll go get a dinner started. Inform our...guest that he's invited to dinner at the Crusader's lodge. Yuna and Rikku, too."
Wakka smiled and, with a nod, turned on his heel back towards the temple.
Lulu watched him walk away, silently pondering what would become of the sudden intimacy expressed between them. She, too, thought of the stranger, and how he would come into play. As always, a biting feeling came to her that he meant trouble, but if it was direct or indirect, she could not tell. All she knew was that the next few days would not be ordinary days.
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Wakka walked back into the room, feeling awkward, since he had just come into the middle of a conversation. The others didn't take notice and he leaned against the doorjamb, listening.
"So, you mean to tell me that where you're from, everyone can talk to everyone else by just looking at a screen and typing some words?"
"Well, simply put, yes, you can do that Rikku. I won't try to go into the schematics of it, but everyone is connected to everyone else, not through spiritual means, but through technological means. The machina in my country not only entertains, but also saves lives. We don't have magic or potions. We have surgery, medicine, and long-term treatment. Surgery is a form of treatment that requires a practitioner to put the patient under a form of anesthesia, or something that won't make them fall asleep, and literally go inside their bodies and fix the problem. They cut the person open where they have a problem, fix it, or help it, and then sew them back up."
At this, Yuna nodded, and unlike Rikku, was able to hold back the look of disgust.
Weston laughed. "It may be 'gross' but it works. It's the best way to be treated, really. But some things we can't cure. Cancer and AIDS. But I won't go into those, since I doubt you've even heard of them."
Yuna, once again, nodded in response, but added a smile. "It is very interesting, learning about your culture."
Weston smiled, and turned, noticing Wakka.
Wakka cleared his throat and nodded. "Sorry for the interruption, but I've come to tell you that you're all invited to a big dinner at the Lodge. If ya want good eats, I suggest coming." He smiled.
Weston hmmed, trying to imagine what sort of food this place would have. As the other two sat up and smiled, thanking him for what he had told them, he began to think over many things. His mind raced, a direct opposite of what he showed on the outside. To the three in the doorway, he was just a guy filling his sack with his gear. But on the inside, Weston was torn between the urge to adapt and the urge to find a way home. He sighed and looked at his PDA, writing in a note on the calendar. He didn't know what day it was, so he just set a reminder. Scrawled in his own handwriting, the words "Get the hell out of here" were displayed back to him on the screen. With a smirk, he turned the device of and threw the rucksack over his shoulder, its weight considerable.
He followed the three outside and was shown to his makeshift hut near the one he had come out of earlier. He tossed his rucksack into the corner and plopped onto the cot in the center. With his hands behind his head and his legs bent, knees in the air, he closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep in the afternoon heat.
