The Diego Diaries: Onward (dd6 131)

-0-The next orn

They stood in the control room feeling stupid in their shifts. They fit well and extended down to their waists. They were patterned on those that the priests wore and were bright yellow. On them in glyphs that could shine in the dark were the damning words that they had caused the misery of everyone in the prison, making all of it possible without a shred of remorse. It would be apparent to everyone, prisoner or not and they'd be the target of intense abuse. It was a scary and unknown experience for these mechs who had never faced much disapproval anywhere, let alone anything this intense even on the run in The Diaspora.

Cinder was sitting in the main room with guns in sight on his body along with a long sword on his back. They were waiting for Loo who was in his office finalizing mental health testing for an older mech who was losing his shit in a solitary cell after slagging everyone around him over something as trivial as another glancing his way.

The office was busy with guards gathering for their morning orders and clerical support working at desks or taking things here and there. Down the corridor, the medic station was open. On the floors above, the warden and her subordinate wardens had their offices along with all the other directors and officials on her team. Gee-Gee had entered, nodded to the four, then continued to the elevator to go to work.

Loo stepped out, handing a disk to his office manager. Then he walked to the four. "Good morning. It's a good way to start, being on time. Shall we go? We have to deliver food to the Stunticons." He grinned, then walked toward the door like such a thing was normal and everyone did it.

Cinder stood, then walked toward them. "Come on. No one likes to wait for their food."

They would follow the pair to the large building nearby where food and other items were prepared, gathered, sorted, or stockpiled. They would pull anti-gravity carts laden with food containers. With Cinder running the controls, they would put the proper container for that group into the security interface space at each cell block. At this time of morning, few were up but those who were were far enough away that they didn't seem to see the writing. So far, they had not been spotted by anyone. But then again, the morning was young.

-0-Doing the rounds

They walked through the wards checking patients. Ratchet had a crowd of young trainee medics and doctors following him. Among them was Partition and his datapad, noting this and that, watching closely. He didn't ask questions but he listened like a trooper. It was amusing and delightful. When they finally reached the infant ICU, Ratchet turned to him. "You have a breem before you need to be at the dojo for lessons and then the firing range."

He startled. "Oh! Right. I'll see ya later," he said as he hurried for the elevator and his other commitments.

Ratchet grinned. "There goes a great kid." Murmurs greeted that with agreement, then they entered to look at the babies and children who were inside.

-0-Autobot City Performing Arts Center, Autobot City, Primal Colony of Mars, Cybertron and the Empire

The vast facility gleamed in the sunlight of early morning. It was huge and set on a gigantic octagonal platform that raised it ten feet off the surface of Mars. There were a large number of buildings all of which served different functions. The biggest and first that visitors would reach was the main performance center, a massively tall building made seemingly of glass that bore copper and steel-gray walls along two sides. This would be the main concert hall, the home of the symphony orchestra with a huge beautiful lobby filled with Cybertronian art. It would be the place where large productions would be held and giant meet ups gathered due to its phenomenal acoustics and seating capacity.

There were three other performance sites in the building which curved around the big one, one of them only slightly smaller than the first, then two more that were designed for more intimate occasions. Beyond this building there were others. A big performing arts school was set back from this one, a place for the teaching of their arts, music and all the parts of their culture that supported music and performing. Dancing and acting schools would be housed here along with those designed to teach students to make sets and do lighting along with other essential necessaries for performing arts of all manner.

Other buildings would store sets and lighting, materials of all kinds for use and the workrooms for artisans to make them. There would be storage for all manner of things. There would also be a large dining room for anyone who worked, visited or studied here to eat on site. Another building nearby was a huge library where the arts were alive going back to before the Golden Age.

Recovered databases, books, all manner of written and electronic materials, endless programming, shows, movies, interviews with those who were important to art either at the production or performance end of things, endless how-to's for doing things this way and that, priceless art, hand annotated scripts and designs, commentary, legendary performances and the like … all of it that was being recovered both from migrations and Cybertron was here and the collection was ever growing.

Here and there around the area, sculpture was on display, some of it easily understood and others more esoteric. They were part of the plan to beautify and to allow all art to flourish here. There would be schools for sculpture and painting, all manner of mediums with expert resident teachers showing students how to work them. There would be elders here showing nearly extinct skills to eager students who had already signed up in numbers to learn.

At the top of the pyramid of culture and performance, Trooper and Scout of Iacon stood. They had a small apartment in the main hall where they'd been camping out during the run up to sign off. Given that they were on call to sign things or help with problems, it was probably a good thing.

Having meticulous standards, they had made sure it was done right. From the broadcast studios for both radio and motion pictures, the burgeoning movie and television industries would share space here and with the studios at IntraCom. They had made sure everything would be right for visitor, employee and student alike.

"The committee will be here at 1100 hours, Troop," Scout said as he sat down at the table to eat breakfast. "The family is back on world, by the way. The business off world has been taken care of."

"What business?" Trooper asked as he looked up from his datapads and breakfast. "I fear I've been distracted. We need to touch base with the family, perhaps dinner out."

"I'll let Alor know. I think they were off world. They're always doing something somewhere." He sighed. "We all work too much. I do say, Trooper, we have a very busy family. I think I want to know more about Halloween. The infants dress up and go door-to-door to collect treats. I think that's amazing. Perhaps we can help with their costumes."

Trooper made a search, then grinned. "I think that would be wonderful. What a great holiday for children."

They chatted a while, then finally went back to their huge beautiful offices to get the ball rolling. The schools and workshops would be opening for business the next orn. The writers who would have space here in a huge office building near the back of the platform along with musicians, playwrights, artists, weavers and others had been on the spot for over a decaorn.

Soon the whole place would be reverberating with music, dance and art. It was almost too much to take in after literally millions of years in exile on a planet far away. They would leave their little apartment with a spring in their treads.

-0-At Sparkling Day School, Terra

Edict sat in a chair rocking a baby to sleep. Hobbes had come home upset from a trip to Cybertron the night before. It was surprising that he had gone to their home world with Traachon, Lucien and Burris, of all mechs. He had tried not to talk about things but Edict had insisted. They sat together silently for a moment then Hobbes had spoken about what he had seen.

"The entire world is in ruins, Edict. It was astonishingly awful to see. Half a billion live in tents and the other 800,000 live in the ruins. There are metro-formers everywhere making food and shelters. They go into the mess to find our people. Some still don't know that Prime has the planet. They have to be rooted out." He sat back. "It's so awful."

Edict gripped his servos. "Prime will make it right, Hobbes. You know that, right?"

Hobbes looked at Edict, his strained expression coming more often lately. He gripped Edict's servo. "Of course, Edict. We all will."

Edict relaxed a bit. "I hope you know that, Hobbes. He's been very kind to me and the children. All of us are trying to find our way. It gives me hope that you see things more clearly now. There's a new world here and we must find our way together. Right?"

Hobbes moved closer sliding his arm around Edict's shoulder. "We will, Edict. We're a family and we will."

Edict didn't tell Hobbes about Bron-E wanting to plan a bonding party and the ceremony with Prime that he had been glad to agree to perform.

Hobbes didn't tell Edict about his new job in the prison and the endless scorn that would be his lot starting the next orn.

They sat together holding each other and it felt better to both than it had been for a long, long time. When morning came, he would accompany Edict to Terra where he would part with a grin for Edict's benefit, then begin the long grim journey to the prison and the first orn of the rest of his miserable life.

-0-Traachon

He sat by the window of his apartment staring out into the dark outside. He had a drink in his hand and his bond, an impeccably configured mech named Millow was in recharge. Traachon couldn't join him. He was too tense about the next orn. Being a mech who didn't mind wielding power with mathematical exactness, power to him was a birthright. Being in such a position as this was anathema to his personal view of himself. The next orn, he would have to be mocked, blamed, thrashed and bear it silently. He had never experienced that and it was so intensely awful to him, he wondered if he could last. Then he stiffened his central strut. He would. Last, that is. He would also hate it. Intensely.

-0-Burris

"I don't want to hear it, Burris. I'm getting fed up with this slag," Anders said as he stood in the middle of their apartment, the one he lived in alone most of the time. It was literally a miracle of Primus that Burris had been given a day pass given the depth of their offenses. Anders had been by himself the entire time of the incarceration of Burris, making his way alone. Their children, especially their two sons who were at odds with each other were busy with their own lives and there was seldom a time that their schedules overlapped.

Anders had a 'nervous condition' that was translated as post traumatic stress during immigration intake and thus, attended therapy with Vinn. He had attended reluctantly at first what someone had called 'high caste detox' group therapy sessions. When he began to feel better and heard others speak about their lives with the same words he used for his own, he was sold.

He had found relief at long last. For the first time, someone understood him and was helping him find peace and a sense of purpose beyond being the bond of Burris. Sometimes a straight jacket, even mink lined, was still a straight jacket. Getting help had unwound the tension that had plagued him with processor aches for years.

He had found a better sense of peace and his own personality, then noticed the performing arts center rising. Contacting the Museum, he found that there would be classes for those interested in learning the arts. He had always wanted to dance. He never told Burris. Burris wasn't interested in the arts and other of the finer things in life. Anders was.

He had begun to take dance lessons, journaled for his sanity, developed friends of all castes in the performing community and lost his ill health. He hadn't even pretended that it was a process. It had been so fast that there was no real journey involved. He just accepted the relief of being here and found things to do.

Then Burris came home with his whining, carping and ill temper. Anders had taken it for a while delighted that his bond was free because in the end he loved and missed him. Then he had begun to chafe under the 'same old story'. That was when he gave back to Burris something he had never expected to hear, his opinions and personal demands.

"Anders, I don't like it when you're upset," Burris said in his confused concern. He really loved his bond but things were different between them and he was lost.

"Then do something about it, Burris. Come with me and speak to Vinn. He helped me immeasurably and I think he can help you. You and the children. All of you need to get yourself together. I'm no longer going to be silent when you're acting poorly. Do you hear me, Burris?" he asked.

Burris stared at his bond, then nodded. "I hear you. I don't understand anything but I hear you. You do know that I love you and would do anything you want me to do. I just … I just don't understand anything anymore, Anders."

Anders stared at him with volumes of emotion on his face. "Then meet me half way, Burris."

"I will," he said pulling the big mech into his arms. He didn't know how that would work but he would try to figure it out. They stood together holding each other. Burris didn't tell Anders about the prison job either.

-0-TBC 9-18-17 edited 9-21-17 edited 12-28-18