Technocracy: Saera/Ardo

It was a cold December day, early December. Ardo turned to look at Saera. She smiled at him. He smiled at her. It was not so cold when they looked at each other. Ardo pointed. Saera looked. A glance, again, passed between them, and they moved, down into the concrete deeping that formed the drainage ditch. They were downtown. They had taken the bus; Saera had helped Ardo with the precise route.

Slowly they wended their way down the heavy, dark gray slope of concrete. It was cold, so they were both bundled up. Ardo wore a puffer jacket, a quilted jacket in a dark military green. Saera was wearing a pretty peacoat in a white plaid, a white with lines of green and pink and blue running up and down it. She was wearing blue suede gloves, while Ardo’s brown hands were bare. Their breath was rising in smoky spindles, up into the clear and cold blue sky.

He went ahead of her. But he looked, and watched as she came down after him, glancing over his shoulder, black hair warped around the earmuffs he wore. She caught his eye, and flashed him that small smile she so often gave him. He smiled at her in turn. She puffed a breath out, and made a point of keeping up with him. She didn’t mind the cold. She was happy to be here with him now.

So they walked along the bottom of the ditch, the blue sky booming overhead. Saera was behind Ardo, and stuffed her hands in her pockets; Ardo himself swung his hands at his sides. He glanced over his shoulder at her. She gave him a rather impish smile, more a smirk than she normally gave. He huffed under his breath, just a bare chuckle. They were headed for a huge drain that loomed before them, a massive concrete pipe.

So they passed out from beneath the dominion of the sky, into the shadows of the pipe. Ardo led, and Saera followed; his footsteps were heavier than hers, but not by much. They both seemed light, gentle, leaving little mark upon the space.

All of a sudden Saera’s silver eyes were filled with light: gleaming light, shimmering light, green light. It basked into the darkness of the pipe, and Ardo glanced over his shoulder, his own brown face lit up by the green glow. “It’s here,” he said, voice soft in a kind of reverence.

The glow grew brighter, and brighter, until the very darkened air seemed soaked in green light. And suddenly Saera was in the midst of the glow, and she glanced all around. There were drawings all around her. There was art, drawing and painting, all up and down the walls of the pipe, and it all glowed bright green.

“Amazing,” she said.

“Yeah!” said Ardo. “It’s super cool!”

“What is this? How does it glow?”

“Luminescent paint!” said Ardo. “You can get it at some of the specialty shops. I’ve seen it at this one shop before, in a strip mall in the northern part of town. You can get it either in the brush kind or the spray paint kind.”

“Who made these?” asked Saera.

“Taggers,” said Ardo. “Guys who want to leave their mark and don’t care if it’s against the law.” He grinned. “I think it’s badass.”

“Hmm,” said Saera. “I am not sure I approve.”

“It’s just harmless,” said Ardo. “It’s not hurting anybody. And it doesn’t hurt the water drainage. These guys just want to let people know they were here.”

“How did you find out about it?”

“I heard a rumor. I checked it out myself a few weeks ago. I wanted to bring someone to see it.”

Saera’s pale face scrunched in a smile. “So you brought me.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” she said. She slowly rotated in place, feet moving her around in a revolution as she took in everything she could see. “It is… beautiful.”

She turned to one of the paintings. It was six wings arranged around a human shape. Two wings bent up to cover the human’s face, on both sides; two other wings bent down to cover the human’s feet. The remaining two wings were spread wide. Saera drifted closer to it, feet tapping lightly on the flooring of the drainage pipe, her gloved hand lit to eerie green by the glowing of the paint.

“Look at this one!” cried Ardo from behind her, and she turned, elegantly pirouetting (Marin had taught her to do it) and setting her free foot down, as her silver eyes followed the voice. Ardo was gesturing up towards a great painting that covered the other side of the pipe. Saera’s gaze traced gently up the length, and across the breadth, of the painting. It was a set of nested circles, or rings. Or, it was more like half-rings. It was as if the outer wall of the largest ring was only half-completed, and the ring on the other side, that completed the circle, was half a size smaller than the largest ring. And the ring on the other side of this ring was a half-size smaller still, until the half-rings nested inward, further and further, forming a shrinking set of half-circles to the innermost center, where a single bolt seemed to hold the imaginary apparatus in place.

Saera’s pale face tilted to the side. She regarded the picture in silence. Ardo came to stand beside her. Ardo stole a glance at Saera, ruby red eyes giving her a careful stare. What was she thinking? Her face was so neutral, so often, that it was frequently difficult to tell what was in her mind. It caught him and Terry by surprise, sometimes, when she would speak, saying something drawn from a train of thought to which they were not privy. Even Marin seemed, sometimes, to be caught off-guard.

“There’s one more,” said Ardo, after a long pause. “Look up.” He looked upwards himself, and pointed.

Saera turned her face upwards, and once again, her eyebrows rose. Eyes were drawn into the ceiling of the pipe. Five eyes, to be precise. Four of them were long and thin, stacked in pairs opposite from each other: one eye on top of the other, all four of them with dark pupils. In between the four eyes, and slightly above them, was a fifth eye, this one tall, stretched out more up and down than side to side. Its pupil sat in the middle of its height, and Saera, as she stared up at it, felt, irrationally, that it was staring down at her, in turn. Tremors and tingles went up her back.

“Creepy, huh?”

Saera turned her head to the side. “I wonder what it means.”

“Don’t ask me. I just think it’s cool.”

Saera stared. Looking up. Up into the endless gaze, the gaze that glowed and shone a green that made her pause, and made her look, to stare more deeply into those eyes, drawn into the cold concrete. Something that she could not quite describe made her keep staring, staring, up into the eyes, because there was something there she could not… explain. A hint of something, just a little. Something that she would remember, many years and miles thence.

But now she blinked, and sighed, her breath fogging out into the air. She smiled, that small smile of hers, and whispered, “Interesting,” with a low voice.

“Are you getting hungry?” Ardo asked.

“A little,” Saera said.

“There’s a really great pizza place I found not far from here. I think they’re open on Sundays.”

“Pizza does sound nice,” said Saera, casting one more glance up at the eyes. Then she bent her head back down, and met Ardo’s ruby red gaze. She smiled at him, again a small and careful smile. “I’d like that. Let’s do it.”

“Great!” said Ardo. He bounced on his heels and ran for the far exit of the pipe. “Come on!” Saera smiled and came after him, boots tapping lightly on the floor with each soft footfall.

They walked along the cold streets, tall buildings soaring overhead. They had ridden the bus to get downtown; Saera’s mother had provided her with bus credit for the day, though Aemelia had worried, briefly, about her daughter venturing into the city proper by herself. But she’d calmed down when Saera had mentioned that Ardo would be with her. Aemelia had learned about the red-eyed boy enough to know that he was brave and daring, and would stand by her daughter in case of trouble.

He walked alongside her now. He kept just barely outpacing her. Ardo liked to walk fast. Saera, meanwhile, tended to walk slow, much slower than she was capable of walking, drifting vaguely forward with the gentle slow motion of her feet. Her hands were at her sides, but her eyes roamed all over, and her head would turn this way and that, taking in the sights and the sounds from every direction. She walked slow, and she browsed with her senses, absorbing information. Ardo would have preferred to go faster. But he kept slowing down, so he could be with her. He flashed her a grin, and she smiled at him in turn, that same small twist of her lips that she seemed to use more with him than anyone else.

“Are you guys going anywhere for Christmas?” asked Ardo.

“Probably not,” said Saera. “We do not normally leave the city. I haven’t really ventured to other places my entire life.”

“Huh,” said Ardo. “Me neither. Sometimes my aunts and I will go up to the lake district, about an hour north of where we live. But that’s as far out of Atlanta as I’ve gone in my entire life.”

“Hmm.”

Ardo heard the note in her voice. “What?”

“It is difficult for me to think of a time when anyone I know has actually left Atlanta.”

“Well, I mean,” said Ardo, “I had a teacher in middle school who said the northern cities were dangerous. Like, up the Atlantic coast. They have more crime, and crops don’t grow as well up there.”

“It is… interesting, all the same.”

“I’ve never really thought about it before,” said Ardo.

“Nor I,” said Saera. “But I am thinking about it now.”

They walked on a few more minutes, saying nothing. A car drove by on the street. Another drove by a few moments later. Papers and fliers scattered in the frigid air.

“Don’t worry.”

“Hmm?” Saera’s silver eyes twitched. She looked at Ardo, who had stopped and turned back to her. “What?”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

“I didn’t think I was worrying.”

“Just… don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

It caught her off guard. But hot warmth swelled in her chest, like a fire had been lit in her heart, and she smiled at him, not the small impish smile but a broad and lovely smile. “I shan’t.”

Ardo smiled to see her smile. He huffed a foggy breath from his mouth and turned to start walking forward again.

“Thank you.”

Ardo nodded. “Don’t mention it.” He picked up his pace and walked more quickly forward. “Hey, there it is!”

Saera’s eyes went past him. There was a cheerful neon sign that gleamed and blinked over the street, about a hundred yards ahead. In blue and yellow writing it read Dantino’s Fine Pizza. It hung above a storefront that had its windows closed, as seemed necessary in the chill. Saera could see dark walls and furniture inside. She picked her pace up, and walked briskly enough that she met Ardo as he reached the door.

“Hello there!” said the hostess, wearing a white smock and a green apron. “Will it just be you two?”

“Yeah,” said Ardo. “Can we sit at the bar?”

“Well,” said the hostess, flashing him a smile, “normally that’s reserved for customers who are going to order alcohol. But we’re pretty empty right now, and you’re obviously underage, so I don’t think there will be any confusion from the server. Go ahead.”

“Awesome!” said Ardo, face beaming. “Come on!” he said to Saera, moving through the restaurant towards the dark wooden bar with its high-legged chairs. Saera followed gently in his wake, hands clasped in front of her against her coat.

“Oh!” Ardo skidded abruptly to a halt. The hostess had spoken. “Would you like me to take your coats?”

“O-Oh, sure,” said Ardo, and he shrugged off his puffer jacket, revealing the dark gray sweater underneath. Saera unbuttoned her own coat and removed it, along with her gloves, putting her sunshine yellow cardigan on display. The hostess took their coats from them, and they resumed their journey to the bar. “Where do you want to sit?” he asked Saera.

“I… don’t much care,” she said very softly.

This caused Ardo to look intently at her. “You sure? We can sit wherever you want.”

“Hmm…”

“How about a corner?”

“That might be nice.”

So they went to the corner, where the bar bent at a right angle. Ardo sat at the corner itself, and Saera pulled up the chair next to him on the left.

“Something to drink?” said the man behind the bar. He set two menus down in front of them as he spoke.

“Just water for me,” said Ardo.

“I should like a cherry soda, please,” said Saera.

The bartender nodded and left. Ardo crossed his arms over his chest. “This is fun!”

Saera smiled, the small impish smile from before. “Yes. Those paintings were amazing. I’d never known about them before.”

“There’s all sorts of art, all around downtown,” said Ardo. “I’ve been checking it out for more than a year now. The whole district’s pretty big, and not all the stuff that people have drawn is easy to find. But I’ve found a lot.”

“Would you ever want to make art around here yourself?”

“Yeah!” said Ardo. But a flinch overtook him. “Oh, er, I mean, I know it’s illegal, but…”

“Well, I wouldn’t tell.” Saera cocked her head to the side. “But suppose you were caught? Would they arrest you?”

“I… um, I mean, maybe.”

“You would perhaps have to worry about your future, if you were arrested.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

A note in his voice made Saera’s silver eyes twitch. The bartender set their drinks down; she picked up her cherry soda, took a sip, and then said, “What is it?”

“It’s just…” Ardo gulped a long pull of his water. “I dunno. I guess I haven’t thought much about my future. About after school, I mean.”

“Really?”

“I guess I’ll go to college, you know?” He leaned into the bar, putting his chin in his hand. “I’d really love to go to art school, but my aunts want me to get a degree. And just, honestly… I don’t know.”

“You kids ready to order?” said the bartender, coming back in front of them.

“Oh, right! Sorry!” said Ardo, a little too loud.

“I think that the pizza with mushrooms and bacon looks good,” said Saera. “We could split it.”

“I mean, that sounds good to me,” said Ardo. “I’m definitely hungry.”

“So the number three pizza?” said the bartender. Saera nodded. “All right, I’ll put that in.”

When he had left, Saera turned to Ardo again. “To be honest, I am not sure what my own plans are. I suppose I’m going to go to college, too. Perhaps get an English degree. Maybe… be a writer, somewhere?” She tapped her fingers against her glass of soda. “It does seem so far away. But it is coming, whether we would like it or not.”

“Yeah,” said Ardo. “It’s just so weird to think about. Some day we’ll be eighteen and leaving high school. Some day we’ll leave high school, even though we just got there. It feels like ages away, but it’s going to happen in just a few years.” Ardo made a face. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“Well, it’s not tomorrow,” said Saera. “You do still have time. When it comes, you will be ready. I am sure.”

“But it is coming.” Ardo crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “The future is freaky.”

“It could be a good thing,” said Saera. “It might be better than the present.”

“But it could be worse, too,” said Ardo. “I don’t know. Nobody knows. That’s what’s freaky about it.”

“Our only thing to do is be brave, I suppose,” said Saera. “You are brave. You can do it.”

“Me?” Ardo turned to her, in a hard way that made his chair creak. “You think I’m brave?”

Saera smiled at him. “Yes. I think you are very brave. I wish I were as brave as you.”

“You’re brave!” said Ardo. “I know you are. I know you’re brave.”

“I do not feel brave. At least, not all the time.”

“You are! I know you are!”

Saera’s face contorted slightly, as she sat there, as she brooded, as she waited, sipping at her cherry soda. Ardo bent his face her way, and when she looked at him she was… twisted. It was easy to see that she was bothered. So he smiled at her. She pulled back, just a little—the gentlest flinch. So he pushed forward, just a little. Not getting into her personal space. Just pressing his physical body a little bit closer to hers. He so often did this purely to be aggressive. To be harsh. But not now. He was not being aggressive. He just drew closer to her, gently.

And the tense straightness in her posture grew weak, and slowly disappeared. Her silver eyes bent away, and looked down at the dark wood of the surface of the bar. But they met his gaze again, and she smiled again, and breathed again, and leaned against her seat. She sighed. She breathed out gently. Ardo had a way of putting her at ease. Even Marin, for all that Saera loved her, did not quite make her relax the way she could in Ardo’s presence. For some reason—it was strange, because they’d only known each other a short time.

“Heh,” said Ardo, breathing out.

“Heh,” said Saera, silver eyes glinting.

“Pizza!” said the waiter, setting down their large, round pizza on a tray in front of them.

“Badass!” said Ardo, immediately picking up a slice and taking a bite.

“Wait, be—”

“Ah!” snapped Ardo, mouth opening and closing widely and dramatically. He swallowed with a grimace.

“Be careful,” said Saera, too late. “It’s probably hot.”

“Yep,” said Ardo. He winced at the burn on the roof of his mouth. So he blew on the pizza slice in between bites, and chewed it slowly. Saera pulled a slice from the tray and picked up her fork and knife, carefully cutting it into bites that she blew on before putting in her mouth.

The pizza gradually cooled, and they ate, picking up slices one by one. Ardo ate faster than Saera, and so Ardo ate more than Saera. Saera didn’t mind; she was not as hungry. She spared a glance at him, with oozings of cheese stretching from the pizza slice to her mouth. Ardo caught her glance, and their eyes met, ruby red and silver white. Saera finished chewing, and swallowed, and cocked her head to the side. Ardo swallowed his own bite and saw her looking, and raised his black eyebrows. Saera now was the one who leaned, inclining ever so slightly forward. She peered at him, her eyes aglint.

“Just thinking,” Ardo said.

Saera tilted her head to the side, pizza in hand.

“About the future. About what we were saying earlier. About the rest of high school.” He aggressively bit into his piece of pizza, chewed hugely, and swallowed in a massive gulp. Then he leaned forward. “Do you think we’ll all still be friends?”

“I should hope so,” said Saera, taking a dainty bite, chewing, and swallowing. “I do indeed still want to be friends: with Marin, obviously, but also with Terry, and also with you. Do you want to be friends with the three of us?”

“Yeah.”

“Even with Marin?”

A pause. Saera fixed another stare on him.

“Yeah,” said Ardo, at length. “Fatass and I have come to an understanding. I’d like her to stick around. And you and Terry, definitely.”

“Well,” said Saera. “Well, that seems like the end of it, as far as I’m concerned. If all four of us are committed to remaining friends, then we shall be friends, no matter what. To the end of high school, and possibly beyond.”

“Yeah,” said Ardo. He gobbled down his slice of pizza in huge bites. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I know you’re right.” He reached—

He paused. “Oh,” said Saera, who had reached as well. There was only one slice of pizza left on the tray. She turned to him. “You eat it.”

“Nah, I’ve had a ton already. You take it.”

“You need the food more than I do. You are a boy and I am a girl.”

“But I really have had a lot already.”

“Let me see…” Saera leaned forward. She took up her fork and her knife, though by now she’d eaten enough slices with her hands that her fingertips were greasy. But her grip on the utensils was steady, and so she deftly cut the slice in half. She took up one half, and slid the nearly-empty tray towards Ardo. “Now we can both have some.”

Ardo smiled at her. He picked up his half a slice, said, “Thanks,” and bit in.

When they had finished, they took their turns going to the bathroom and washing their hands. Then they paid: they had agreed to split the check, so each of them pulled out a family debit card and the bill was divided evenly between them.

“Come on!” said Ardo. “There’s another mural up here, near the community center. I think we have time to see it before we have to catch the bus back to the suburbs.”

“Hmm,” said Saera, putting her gloves on as she followed him out the door.

Bundled in their coats they left the restaurant and walked through an intersection, minding the traffic signs. Ardo motioned to her, and they left the sidewalk, cutting through an open, empty concrete lot, where dull dead yellow grass wilted amid cracks in the pavement. “Shortcut,” he said. “I know exactly where—”

“Mmm.”

It was not Ardo’s voice, or Saera’s. The two looked immediately at each other, to confirm to themselves that neither of them had made a noise. Then, as one, their heads bent to the left.

A shape in a rotten brown blanket was sprawled on the concrete only a few feet from where they stood. It was already moving, fidgeting, as they stood and watched. Soon enough, it sat up, and revealed itself to be a man. He was raggedly dressed, holes in his robe-like black shirt and pants revealing his skin, so pale that it was almost gray. He was as pale as Saera, but his was a sickly, frail pallor. His beard was entirely gray, light salt gray at the edges but with a middle streak of deep, stormy gray.

Saera’s eyebrows rose when she more closely examined his face. His eyes were a crystalline blue; they were bleary at first, and hazy, but when he took sight of them those eyes sharpened into focus, became harsh. Above his eyes, above his gray eyebrows, there were two long, red cuts, just above each browline. And there was a third cut: a long, vertical cut, running down the middle of his forehead. Saera beheld him, and a tremor rose up her back.

Ardo was less perturbed. “Hey, man, are you okay?” he asked, coming close to the homeless man.

“I’m… mmm…” the man worked words from his mouth, his voice a stony, gravelly growl. Saera watched him move his jaw from side to side.

“Are you sick?” asked Ardo. “Do you need us to call an ambulance?”

“’M fine,” said the man. He drew his ratty brown blanket more tightly around his body.

“Hey, here,” said Ardo. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. From this he produced a wad of cash, and he handed it to the man, whose dirty pale hand reached out to grasp the bills. “Here. So you can get something to eat.” Behind him, Saera smiled gently.

The man stared at the money in his hand. Then those eyes came up, and met Ardo’s red gaze. “You.”

“Yeah,” said Ardo. “It’s fine. I don’t need it. We, uh, I bet my friend has some more money if you—”

“You!”

The shout sent Ardo jumping back; behind him, Saera recoiled backwards. The man eyed them with a boiling, blazing stare. “Calm down,” said Ardo. “We’re not gonna hurt—”

“You!” cried the man again, and now he threw off his blanket, and rose to his feet. He was not wearing shoes; his feet were scabbed and rotten. He pointed a finger and he thrust it at them. “You! And you!” he looked quickly at Saera. “And your two friends!”

Saera’s eyes bulged. Ardo’s also did.

“You four! The world is yours!”

“W-Whoa,” said Ardo. “Listen, you need to calm down.”

“The four of you hold the universe in the palm of your hands! The cosmos is yours! It bends to you!”

“Sir,” said Saera gently, daring a step forward. “We did not mean to disturb—”

“You haven’t even begun to imagine what you can do! You don’t know who you are. You don’t know what you are!” He thrust a trembling finger towards them once again. “You don’t know, but you will learn. And beware the devils!”

“W-We…” Ardo started.

“Wait,” said Saera. “What devils?”

“The devils in Hell!” roared the homeless man. His cuts, already worked and agitated, were opening. As they watched, blood began to ooze from the two cuts above his brows, and from the cut that ran down his forehead. “The devils that live beneath the earth. Beware them!”

“Is this supposed to be some religious stuff?” asked Ardo.

“The devils think they can control you! But I know better. You are greater than them, you four. They think that they can use you to end the world! But you are better than them. You are stronger than them. They don’t understand you. They don’t understand what they’ve made!” Blood ran down his face. “Beware the devils! Beware the devils in black and red!”

“All right, sir, that’s enough.”

Saera and Ardo started at the voice. They looked past the homeless man, just in time to see a black-gloved hand on his shoulder. Two police officers were standing behind the homeless man, and one of them had put their hand on his shoulder. The other one looked at Ardo and Saera and asked, “Are you kids all right?”

“Yes, sir,” said Saera, with a curt nod.

“He hasn’t been giving you trouble, has he?” asked the officer with his hand on the homeless man’s shoulder.

“I am giving them life!” cried the homeless man, who wrestled away from the police officer’s grip. The officer dragged him to the ground and put him in a hold. Still the homeless man struggled, even as the officer bound him in handcuffs. “Beware, you two! Tell your friends! Beware the devils that live beneath the earth!”

“We’ve had a bit of a problem with some of these fellows,” said the other officer, still standing. “One of the local psychiatric wards had to close down due to lack of state funding. Some of the patients have made it onto the streets, so we’ve had to start rounding them up.” He smiled gently at them. “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?”

“Nah,” said Ardo. “We’re fine.” Ardo smiled at Saera, in a way designed to comfort. But Saera was looking straight at the officer, her expression prim and neutral.

“Well, in that case, we’ll take it from here,” said the officer, as his partner dragged the homeless man, grunting and groaning, to his feet.

“Very well,” said Saera, giving a gentle bow. “Come on.” She turned on her heel and began to walk across the rest of the concrete lot, the way they had originally been going.

“Uh, um, thanks, officers!” said Ardo, waving over his shoulder as he hurried to catch up to Saera. When he was next to her he said, “Whoa, slow down!”

“Come on,” she said softly. She glanced hurriedly over her shoulder.

“What is it?”

Saera put a finger to her lips. They said nothing until they had left the lot. “Which way?”

“Do you seriously still want to see the drawing? After that?”

“Yes.”

“Well…” Ardo shrugged. “That way.” He turned to the left, and they began to walk. It was now Ardo’s turn to glance about. “So they definitely can’t hear us now. What was the big deal there?”

“Do you bother to notice what colors the Atlanta Police Department wears?”

“Uh, yeah, they all wear black and…” Ardo’s eyes went wide. “Black and red.” He glanced immediately at Saera. She was staring intently at him. “But that’s gotta be just a weird coincidence.”

“Hmm,” she said.

“You don’t seriously think that crazy guy is right about anything he said, do you?”

“It was very odd.”

“Yeah, it was fucking nuts.”

“Odd things are sometimes false. But sometimes they are not.”

Ardo crossed his hands in front of his chest as he walked. It was all absurd. It felt crazy, what had just happened. He shook his head. He totally didn’t know what to think. He turned his head to the left— “Oh!”

They stopped abruptly, Ardo first, Saera a few paces later. “Are we here?” she asked.

“Yep. Come on!” They walked into an alley. The sun was sinking lower, and the short day was beginning its slide into evening. “It’s just over here.”

Saera did not see anything at first. But as her eyes adjusted to the shadows of the alley, she gasped. A huge drawing had been etched into the brick of the alley wall. It was a huge man-shape, a humanoid shape, abstract, but human enough, with sturdy legs and sturdy arms and a formidable torso and a big, blocky head. It was colored in four colors, divided somewhat equally between them: blue, red, white, and brown.

That colossal man towered above them in his size,

Etched from chalk and spray paint with his colors booming bright.

“Oh, my,” said Saera, very quietly.

“Yeah,” said Ardo. “I’m glad you made us come here still. I’m glad we got to see it.”

Saera smiled at him in that small way of hers. Ardo noticed it, and grinned at her, that beaming smile, full of mirth. And, slowly, Ardo’s blazing, brilliant joy drew a similar broad smile from Saera—slowly, gently, like the whipping of the breeze into a gale. So, both brightly smiling, they stood there, in silence, in the cold December afternoon, breath fogging from their mouths, yet radiating warmth from one to the other, drawn together in a pleasant, lofty quiet.