Prologue: Epilogue of a Hopeful
It was now officially the 40th year of the new era, and we were basking in the red of the setting sun. It was New Year’s Day, and my family of two was having a celebration, as is our family’s tradition. It is a bit lonely now that my parents have passed, but well, that was two years ago. Scars heal over time.
We looked at the massive hill of scrap metal. The Graveyard of the Hopefuls, as my grandfather calls it. My grandfather put his trembling hand on my shoulder as we looked at that pile of gigantic abstract humanoid metal forms melted and twisted together, screaming at the heavens in mock agony. Their metal forms extended as far as the eye could see. It was a battlefield frozen in time.
I was expecting his usual boastful lecture on how this was the site where the Hopefuls defeated the Knights and banished the Mages, shattering the old world and giving birth to the new. How he was here 40 years ago today, fighting for the future. All steeped in his usual flowery dramatics. Yet when he spoke, his usual hearty voice was weak.
“If only you were there, you could have seen those beautiful days where our dreams parted the clouds of reaction. Nothing was impossible; all that was needed to make the formerly impossible possible was a bold step forward. Those days where we believed that our ideal was five or ten years away. Alas, alas…” My grandfather said that before he looked up towards the setting sun, his smile was faint.
“Those days still exist now in my heart. I wonder if I must pull it out to reignite now with that brilliant time with joyous red. Yes… Don’t get me wrong, we are still walking that long march to our ideal world, but you have only lived in the shadow of those days. A shadow cast by its brutal erasure by something that grew beside us Hopefuls. I wonder even now if that something ever had a name.” His smile morphed into a weird smile, not quite one of hurt or regret, nor one of joy or hope. He looked confused.
“All things are erased by time, but rarely is that eraser so brash and visible to mortal eyes. Who was …he? Her…? It…? It was someone? I am talking nonsense again, aren’t I…” My grandfather muttered, barely audible. He looked me in my eyes before continuing. “For all my mistakes, Lenn, know that I have lived a life of little regret.” My grandfather looked away from my eyes before continuing. His eyes were confused and hurt. I contemplated speaking, stopping him from reliving those days as I used to, but his demeanor made it look like he was already lost in them. My voice failed me once more.
“Even with a time machine, I would not be able to stop the monster that something became; perhaps I may have been able to mitigate its destruction... The more time passes from that horrid reckoning, the more the scars of that month have faded from my notice, yet one does ache, a dull, ever-present ache. The scar tells me I was close to the monster, yet if it was true, why do I not know what it was before? Why do I not know its name?” My grandfather stared into my eyes with his desperate, hopeless, sore red eyes. “Lenn, do you know its name?” His eyes searched mine as he spoke. I shook my head no. My grandfather sighed and turned his back on me. He walked to the pile of scrap. It looked as if he was floating in the wind; it was a carefree sight. I tried to call out to him, but before I could, he tripped, no, fell into it, that Hopeful Graveyard, like a swimmer falling into a pool. I ran to him, but it was too late; another Hopeful had died. His body was at the feet of a giant golden Hopeful, missing its head and arms. It was lying on the ground, weak and lifeless.
Chapter 1: Scars of the Past
It took me a week after the funeral to comprehend that I was now alone. I have yet to fully realize that comprehension, though. No longer can I rely on my grandfather to make sure I am awake at a healthy time; no longer do I hear his elaborate tales. Those tales were his pastime; he didn’t care for the ManaVision or the CyberWeb. He spent most of his time talking to others, reading, or listening to the radio. Every other week, he would participate in local council and community meetings, and occasionally, he would pull me along with him.
His funeral was attended by nearly everyone in the area over the age of 40. I knew the faces of these people from those meetings. Then there were the folks under 40, nearly fifty of them, all of different ages. I don’t know how or why all of them knew my grandfather. A few of them spoke on this issue when paying respects, as I stood silently by his casket. I don’t think I said a single word, yet they poured their hearts out…
I knew that he often put other people before himself, I had experienced it a few times, too. However, to have so deeply helped nearly fifty people enough to show up at his funeral… That is what a Hopeful is. So long as you hold hope for a better future and are willing to act to achieve that future, you are a Hopeful.
Yet, why didn’t he tell me his time was near? He had contacted the funeral home and made his arrangements a few months ago. He was suffering from a brain tumor. Did he not trust me enough? No, maybe it was… no, he probably thought that he wanted to spare me the grief. Hong Duomei, selfless to his last moment, yet I wish grandpa had told me. At least then I could have spent more time with him. I would have taken the last semester of class off and traveled the world with him. He always regretted not doing that once…
A grey-haired man and his bald son offered to take me in or help with my living situation shortly after Grandpa’s funeral. He was apparently a distant uncle on the other side of my family, and even he was bawling at my grandfather’s funeral despite no blood relation. His son, too, despite not being much older than me, looked saddened there. I refused them. I didn’t even know their names, despite the fact that they were apparently my closest relatives. Dad shared a great-grandparent with him, apparently.
The funeral is over, and his body has been laid to rest. Yet, since that day, I have been haunted by his gaze and question. His hopeless eyes frantically staring into and searching my soul, and his desperate pleading voice. It was the words of an ill man. It should not hold that much weight. Yet, it was the same words that…
My alarm clock rang, taking me out of my drowsy thoughts. I barely slept last night. What good will staring at the wall for another hour be? Come on Lenn, get up. Yeah, I have to go to school. I can’t be taking more time off than I already have. Besides, tomorrow is the day that my class and I will find our heart resonances.
My grandfather disapproved of me going down this path, and sometimes I considered listening to him, but there is something that I cannot give up. Even if he is now dead, I must keep at it. If he were here, surely he would tell me it would be a waste of my life to join now that we are free. No, my parents died as Hopefuls, my grandfather too. This is the path of the Duomei family. It is the path I wish to walk, so I will walk it.
I packed two changes of clothes and 50# for spending cash into my backpack. Halfway through the school day, we will be going on a trip to the resonance well. A replica of the wellspring of reality, someday I would like to see the real thing…
I put on my usual coat, made sure that I had a pen, pencil, inhaler, and spacer, and left for school. Some folks have purses, others fanny packs; I use my coat pockets instead. Of course, I suffer from this decision in the summer months, but one must pay a price for fashion. Jokes aside, I need my inhaler and spacer to be instantly accessible when I am to leave my house, and a coat pocket is the only thing I have found to work with my lifestyle.
I hurriedly exited our… my apartment and took the elevator out of the apartment building. The first floors of these buildings are often family or cooperative businesses of some sort. The bottom of my apartment had a clinic, a cafeteria, and a convenience store. There were a few people I had to pass by before I exited the apartment building. It was only a few seconds later that I was greeted by a strong bone-biting gust of wind. I covered my face while I let it pass, and then hurried to school.
A few minutes later, as I was hurriedly walking to school. There was the sound of distant thunder. I looked up at the sky. It was clear, however. As I turned around, I saw something green falling onto and then clicking against the sidewalk. I approached it, it was a pencil, a green wooden one. It looked unused but was sharpened. I looked for where it could have come from. The sidewalk was empty, and the closest apartment building was ten meters away. I double-checked my surroundings before I picked it up. Perhaps some group was walking, and one of those in that group tried to throw it as far as they could? I mean, this is a road to our school. I put the pencil in my coat pocket, stifled a cough, and continued on.
The beautiful winter sky was dotted by apartment buildings broken up by various roads, monuments to human work and solidarity. I heard a faint voice, “Lenn, do you see the world around you? It was we who made it.” It was a memory. At times like this, when I was feeling alone, my grandfather could somehow tell and would extol how nearly everything around us was made by human work. We are never truly alone so long as we keep this knowledge in heart and vow to add to the work of humanity. The clothes on my back, the environment I live in, and the food I eat are all products of human work. He was always flowery with his language, especially on this topic, yet that was due to the respect he held for his ideals. I must live up to… but would he want that? No, focus on school first; you must keep a clear mind for your resonance ceremony, Lenn.
I hurriedly passed the school gates. The school was surrounded by a chain-link fence, which I have never really understood why. It is not like a high school has to worry about kids escaping during recess, and even I could climb over such a fence. The school building was five stories, the first held the lockers, two gyms, their changing rooms, library, and the cafeteria. The second floor and up had the classrooms. Each floor was assigned to a grade.
My face and hands were pink and numb by the time I entered the school. The windchill had been terrible, and I forgot to wear gloves. I guess a cough mask would also have helped, but it might have fogged up my glasses… Well, more than they are now that water is condensing on them. There were thirty-two minutes left until classes started. I went to my locker and took out a notebook.
I found a table in the library, opened the notebook to the last page, closed my eyes, took a pencil out of my pocket, emptied my mind, and began writing. My hand glossed past the paper as it moved almost on its own. What I was writing, I do not know; this is just a habit. I have been doing something like this almost every day since I was ten, in the past five and a half years. It is like an ever-present urge gnawing away at my hands. My father believed this had something to do with my heart resonance. Another reason why this is the correct path to walk. Before the Hopefuls freed us, heart resonance was called the heart sword. Knights would train children with noble, rich, and/or powerful parents, and those rare few commoners who awakened naturally. Shattering their heart resonance and forging the remains into swords, paired with the armor made by Mages, these swords allowed the Knight armies to conquer plane after plane.
Swords are made to deter and, if that fails, harm, if not kill, and the Knights use that power to conquer other planes and kill the disobedient. I have always wondered how such a barbaric state of affairs persists in other planes. Of course, power is held through the barrel of a gun, but for the gun to actually be used for the purpose of harming others for the benefit of the wielder is crazy. At that point, what separates you from a monster? A weapon not used to defend yourself or others is just a tool of murder.
The Hopefuls were the children of this plane. Their great-great-grandparents had just been born before the Knights arrived.
As I was lost in thought, the first bell rang. I had five minutes to get to class, but before that, what did I write? I looked down at the paper.
‘My name is . My name is . My name is . My name is .My name is . My name is . My name is . My name is—‘
It was the same words written over and over again; I had to tear myself away from reading on. The entire page was filled with those words.
“Lenn, do you know its name?” My grandfather was nearly standing before me once more, staring into my soul with bloodshot eyes. His phantom eyes were darting about, searching for something I could never know. My mother was there in his eyes, asking me something too.
“Lenn, do you know why you hold your name?” She spoke with a strained voice, blood pouring from her missing eye and legs. I smelt the smoke and could feel it filling my lungs. Was I coughing? “It is a promise, Lenn, you are to be strong like a raging river and calm as a brook. Stay strong, stay calm, and leave the car. I will be proud—.” The flames from the car engine ate away at her hair as she stared into my eyes. I didn’t notice my father, who pulled me from the fire with his remaining arm, nor did I notice the person… Stop it, Lenn. Get to class, to class. You have to get to class, get to class. My weak legs barely supported my body. My breathing was strained.
One foot forwards, Lenn, keep going, keep going, you are almost there, almost there. I held an arm against the wall, the starting bell had rung before I had reached the staircase. I was audibly wheezing, of course, it was at moments like this, with no one around, when I had to have a panic attack. That is all. This is just a panic attack; calm your breathing. One step forward, Lenn, you are almost there. I reach my classroom as a wheezing, coughing mess. Before I enter, I sit against the wall and take out my inhaler and its spacer. I get it ready, but keep it lying on my lap.
“Lenn, you know better, don’t use your inhaler for a panic attack. Calm down, take one deep breath in, good, now exhale.” I faintly hear my father speak. Of course, it is just another memory, but at least it is a happier one. I take a deep breath in, hold it for a second, and exhale. I repeat this for a minute or so, and my breathing calms down; I only have a faint wheeze.
I sigh and take in my surroundings before standing up. It wasn’t my first time doing this, but I am still surprised that the doors are so soundproof. Of course, it is a work of artifice, but why waste the money on a door? I entered, got scolded by the teacher, and patiently watched the clock tick down.
Chapter 2 - Resonance and Emanations.
Classes passed without issue, and no one seemed to have noticed my attack. I had enrolled in the Future Hopeful program when my parents were still alive. My grandfather would occasionally try to convince me to transfer out to a more academic or the artifice program, especially after they passed. Especially when he learned that I didn’t quite meet the athletic or social standards of his day. However, Hopefuls and pilots are no longer just combatants. Of course, he knew that too. It always seemed that he was anxious about me walking down this path, especially after my parents died.
The 10:00am bell rang, and half a minute later, our homeroom teacher languidly pushed the door in, before slowly walking to her desk and doing roll call. I don’t know her name since I missed the first week of class. She had an unserious but weary air about her, at least in my opinion. It wasn’t until she started teaching that that impression was challenged.
“In an hour, we will be leaving for the resonance well.” She said with a practiced voice, or is it tone of voice? It sounded artificial in a way I couldn’t put it, like she was mimicking something. Nonetheless, she continued, “This is my last chance to check if you have the proper respect, and instill it in you if you do not.” Our teacher purposefully looked at every student before speaking once more. “Jun Wer, what is a resonance well?” She said while guiding her finger to a girl a few seats to my right.
“Um, it is an area where the emanations.. resonate from the.. the um reality well, no, the wellspring of reality, naturally affect and shape the world around it..?” She said. It seemed she didn’t expect to be called upon like this.
“Is a resonance well an area, object, or a point that resonates with the wellspring of reality, Yevli Shenyl? Be specific in your answer.” Our teacher said while guiding her finger to the girl in front of the last.
“I think it is a point, or maybe an object, that radiates the area, right?” This Yevl something seems to be new to the class, I didn’t see her last semester when I tested in. She was wrong, though.
“Can anyone correct her mistake?” The teacher said before looking at all of us once more. I looked at my desk, it wasn’t that I didn’t know the answer, I just don’t know how to say it without it being confusing.
“Jecal Forne? Can you answer the question?” The teacher spoke once more, and I raised my head. It seemed like she was pointing at another new student two seats in front of me. He shook his head to the teacher’s question. “No? Well then, keep this in mind. The whole area is in resonance with the wellspring of reality, the closer to the center you get, the weaker that resonance.” The teacher's artificial, practiced tone of voice was frankly a bit difficult to listen to. Is this her natural voice or a voice she is putting on for some reason? As I was lost in thought, it seemed like the teacher continued speaking.
“When approaching the center of the resonance well, do not push yourself past your limit. There is a hard limit that your supervisors will stop you at when approaching the center, but you know your body best. Yes, you will be supervised, so you are unlikely to permanently injure yourself, but I have seen a kid’s eyes explode when approaching past her limit. Onc—“ The teacher talked about a few of her horror stories with the resonance well. “The resonance well is reality refracted. It can and will refract you if you do not treat it with proper caution and respect. You are only allowed to approach it for two reasons: you are Young Hopefuls, and you show signs of natural awakening. Most others can only go here after they are adults and have undergone proper conditioning. If not for the risks, we would be doing something traditionally less risky on this trip, perhaps something like skydiving—“ I lost interest in what she was talking about, and my eyes fell back onto the clock behind her.
As I understand it, the resonance well is an area where material reality distorts the emanations of its forms. Every idea, thing, place, person, action, etc. that has happened on this plane resonates against the wellspring of reality, causing the plane to emanate a dimension of that thought, action, or thing. There is a dimension of sunlight, of breath, of anxiety. All of which are stacked upon material reality. These dimensions are not spatial, but more like ever-present fields. It is hard to describe. Emanations are peculiar; some act predictably, others don’t, some fade away fast, others are nigh permanent. Nonetheless, it is one of these dimensions that each of our hearts resonates with.
The trip to the resonance well will take six hours. Only one bus was making the trip. Despite the nearly five hundred students in my grade, only twenty-two students in my grade are qualified for the Young Hopefuls program. It is not a fast track to the military. It is a class to contain and regulate children who naturally awaken their heart resonance while teaching and training them to be able to use their heart resonances wisely. It is on our conscience if we wish to continue onto the military. Essentially, we are here to keep ourselves from exploding both ourselves and others into nothing.
As the clock reached 11:00am, our teacher stopped her speech and guided us out of the classroom and to the bus outside the fenced perimeter of the school. I was greeted once more by the cold wind. I shivered as I moved forward.
I entered the bus while making sure I had everything I would need in my backpack, but it felt too light. Shit! I am an idiot! I forgot my nebulizer! I closed my eyes for a second and calmed myself down while I searched for a seat. There was a free bench in the middle of the bus, and it seemed that no one else was going to share the seat with me. Good, so then, Lenn, what is our plan of action? My inhaler should be good enough if I run into a trigger. I just need to make a plan for if the environment itself is the trigger. Pollution, smoke, dust, and pollen are the main issues, right? The resonance well, and the area around it, is likely to be unpolluted since it is treated as a restricted area. Outside of military installations, there are only two hotels in a twenty-mile radius of the well. It is winter, so pollen is unlikely to be an issue, and most buildings use electricity instead of coal or gas for heating nowadays. So, dust… it is unlikely that a hotel will be dusty, right? Calm down, deep breath in, hold, deep breath out. My breath tickled my dry lips as I tried thinking of the future.
Someone loudly laughed in front of me. It was the new student, what did the teacher call her? Yevl? It seems like she has already formed a group of friends here. Must be nice. If I could do that, would I be able to form a team before the pilot program starts?
It isn’t until the third year of high school that we get to train in armor. All third year students who are part of the Young Hopefuls program automatically qualify for the piloting program, and all third year students able to pass a specialized physical and technical exam can also qualify for this program. Unlike the Knights, it is a requirement to allow students who qualify to opt in and out of the pilot program at their own discretion. Four-person teams will be given the responsibility of learning how to use, maintain, repair, and modify a 3rd generation Hopeful. Two pilots and two mechanics/engineers. In the fourth year, students in the artifice program can join in the pilot course, and team sizes increase after the fourth year.
All this to say that I don’t know anyone who is a part of the pilot program this year who has not already formed a team. I barely know the names of five people in my class. It begins next week too…
If only I had the social skills of my grandfather or parents. All were Hopefuls on a pilot team at some part of their life. My father and mother were armor engineers, and my grandfather was an armor pilot during the War of Liberation. My parents were close with many pilot teams, and my grandfather was a crucial member of the community. Meanwhile, I am someone who only has acquaintances. I moved here when my parents died. Perhaps things would be different if I stayed in contact with my friends from my hometown.
My grandfather was angry at me when I mentioned that I wanted to be a pilot, apparently my mother experienced something similar when she decided to become an armor engineer. In the War of Liberation, the Hopefuls named their armors Hopefuls. That armor was a series of standard mass-produced armors. The armor factories were seized by Hopeful workers expelling their occupier bosses. It was one of the first acts of the War of Liberation.
Those armor factories the Hopefuls seized were not for weapons of war, but for tools to make managing an empire easier. Armor for scaling tough terrain and cliffs, armor for carrying heavy loads and construction, armor for policing and breaking up protests/strikes. These armors were comparatively simple and had no need for Mages in their design or construction. Perhaps that was why the Knights thought it was safe to keep us on our plane. What would rebels gain from seizing such inferior tools? Hope was all that was needed for the flame to spark.
As the war raged on, all sorts of materials ran out, and the Hopefuls found their Hopefuls made of disparate metals and materials. Gold and lead Hopefuls were common when refined steel and iron ran out. These were cheap metals that were easy to cut. They were slow and heavy in comparison to the standard Hopeful, and the lead ones have poisoned many of those who used or worked on them. Destroyed Hopefuls were often just left where they were after the War of Liberation ended. This led to lead Hopefuls occasionally polluting the environment in the decade following the war. Hopeful armor lodged itself as a rushed death trap in popular imagination. Of course, time has smoothed over this perception, but it is a shame that it still persists to any degree.
The bus began moving, and chatter alongside the sounds of the bus and road filled my ears. I wonder what my resonance will be? At some point, the boring bus ride had lulled me into sleep.
I don’t know how much time passed as I was asleep, someone had shaken my shoulder to wake me up when the bus had parked. I groggily exited the bus. Our teacher, Miss Ley, if I am not wrong, numbered us off. Her voice sounded normal, so that had to be an act right? Apparently, there were not enough rooms for everyone to have their own in the hotel.
Chapter 3 - Is it Something Old or Something New?
I was outside, and I could hear the wind blowing about frantically, but I couldn’t feel it. To my right was an ornate manor, to my left in the dust was an old town. The buildings in that town seemed to have straw and mud roofs, although that is just me guessing. Thatch maybe? Someone walked out of the manor and looked behind me before speaking.
“——, come here.” A man wearing a blond, clean-shaven man wearing a black suit jacket over a frilly white shirt called out to something. His voice was quiet but cut cleanly through the air. Something walked through me, towards the man. It was a person, or something in the form of a person. However, any discernible detail of the entity did not exist. It was not quite a blurry, clear, or static-filled outline of a human figure. It was something that was both there and not there. Like a scar on reality. That scar walked over to the man.
“——, you are now — years old. It is nearing time to draw your sword.” The man put his hand on the scar’s head. “Tomorrow, Gerald will take you to the resonance well. I expect you know not to leave there until you have forged your sword.” The scar nodded and said something, but their voice no longer exists. The man laughed and headed back into the manor. The scar looked at me, no, behind me. What was it looking at? As I turned around, I felt myself waking up.
I groggily shuffled around on my bed, trying to get back to sleep, when I realized I was still wearing my coat. I sat up and realized that I was in a strange room. As my groggy mind tried to remember how I got here, I heard someone snoring on the bed next to me.
Right, the teacher paired me with James, James… Lon-something or other. There weren't enough available rooms for everyone to have one to themselves in the hotel. After getting our keycards, I hurried to bed. My glasses do seem to be on that table. At least I didn’t forget to take them off.
As for James, I barely know him. He is a classmate of mine. When I transferred into the Young Hopefuls program last fall, he was one of the few people who talked to me. Although rare, we do occasionally talk.
I turned on a hallway light and checked the clock. It was 5:23 am. We leave for the resonance well in three hours. I quietly and quickly took a bath, changed my clothes, made sure my glasses were clean, put my coat on, and double checked that I had everything I would need on me. I needed to be by myself for a minute to clear my head.
As I went to exit the room, I heard something moving behind me. James seemed to have woken up. He stumbled over to me. He was wearing a white T-shirt and pajama pants.
“What time is it?” He muttered before he yawned and stretched.
“5:53, you can head back to bed. I am just going on a walk.” I responded.
“Shcrew that, like I can shleep now. Why don’t ya take me with ya? We haven’t talked much shince the shool yea shtarted. Hell, ya even mished the first week.” James seemed like he was speaking as if he had something in his mouth. What should I say? I can’t really reject him since it would be rude, and I can’t really tell him why I was gone.
“I don’t mind, but are you sure you don’t want to get changed first? Also, do you have something in your mouth?”
“Yah, I don’t mind, but ya musht wait for me.” James said before taking something out of his mouth with his right hand. “What ya starting at?” Ah… I didn’t mean to stare. What should I do? I have to do something, though, uhhh, I will just point at the thing he was holding.
“This? It’s just a mouth guard, ya don’t want it do ya?” I hurriedly shook my head no. What am I even doing? Did I do the wrong thing? James was staring at my face, I quickly turned my head away.
He laughed then spoke, “It was just a joke, I didn’t mean to make ya uncomfortable, man…” James said while faux-scratching the side of his head. Isn’t that unsanitary?
Wait, did he say it was a joke...? I didn’t realize. What should I say? I have made things awkward… I looked at him and said the first thing that came to mind.
“Shouldn’t you wash your hand?” He was still holding the mouth guard in his left hand.
“Huh, why?”
“Well, you're still holding that mouth guard, no? Isn’t that just making your hand dirty?” Why would he question that? Isn’t it obvious?
“Oh… yeah, yeah, thought ya were talking bout something else. Don’t worry, I won’t touch you. Didn’t take ya for a germaphobe, but I guess that makes sense.” He said while slowly bringing his hand away from his head.
Okay, what should I do next? Yeah, I was going to go for a walk. I should head out now, wait James said to wait for him to get changed.
“Do you still want to head out? If so, you should get changed soon. It should be quite cold out.” I said. James just nodded and headed to the bathroom.
About five minutes later, we exited our room and then headed outside. The hotel was a three story concrete building whose workers did their best to make its inside look and feel homely, for lack of a better word. The outside however, wasn’t attended to with such detail. It was made of grey blocks dotted with windows. Most of the concrete apartments I have seen paint or otherwise decorate the exterior part of their building. This hotel did none of that. It didn’t even have a sign denoting it as a hotel.
The only human piece of construction in sight of the hotel was a road that seemed to be well-maintained. Of course, this is a military designation; the roads must be maintained. Other than the road, the hotel was surrounded by bare trees and dead grass. Patches of barren trees surrounded by dead grass stretched about a mile or so to the north until they met with a gigantic aquamarine cliff face. The cliff face seemed to continue forever to the east and west, and was just shy of the grey clouds hanging in the sky.
As I stared at the scenery, James spoke.
“Up there,” James pointed to the cliff, “that is where the resonance well is, right? How in the hell are we to scale that? I don’t see a road… They don’t expect us to climb THAT, right!?” As he said that, he frantically gestured at the size of the cliff.
“Hopefully not, I don’t think I could make it if so…” I muttered. I hadn’t expected this. In fact, I have only seen pictures of the cliffs surrounding resonance wells. I always assumed that the pathway up was not shown because it ruined the view. Why hadn’t I looked this up!? Why didn’t our teacher mention this? I can’t end my journey here, but there is no way for me to scale a cliff like that. Was my grandfather right when he complained that I didn’t have the physical aptitude to be a Hopeful pilot?
Wait, calm down. When I joined the Young Hopeful program, the school administration mentioned that natural awakeners must join and visit a resonance well before they turn 16, or else their heart will fail. Deep breath in, hold, deep breath out.
“Are ya okay, man, ya look as if ya are gonna faint?” James said, breaking me from my thoughts. I spoke without thinking.
“Are they going to leave us to die then? I cannot climb a cliff one-tenth that height! I can barely climb over the school fence! Aren't we to die if we turn 16 and haven’t visited a resonance well!” I began shouting in disbelief at the end. I don’t know what I was looking at.
“Calm down, man, I am sure there is an explanation. I will ask the front desk about this. Do you want to come with?” James said, I think he put a hand on my shoulder at some point. I took a deep breath and nodded.
It took a few minutes for us to find a staff member. We were up too early for someone to be at the front desk. James asked about how we will reach the resonance well, and the staff member responded.
“Natural awakeners, huh, didn’t your teacher tell you?” The staff member responded. I shook my head, and James spoke. However, the fact that there was an answer calmed me down quite a bit.
“If she did, we don’t remember it, or didn’t hear it.” He said.
“Have you ever ridden in a Hopeful?” The staff member said. Does that mean? My heart began racing.
“Will we actually be allowed on one?” I hurriedly asked.
“Yeah, your class here has, what, 20 or so students? I think that means there will be 2 climbers.” The staff member shrugged while speaking.
“Thank ya for your help man.” James said. I wanted to ask more about what he meant, what type of Hopeful we would be riding, how he knew that, and the like, however, the staff member spoke before I could.
“No problem. While I wouldn’t mind talking to you kids for a while, there is work that I must do.” The staff member said before walking off. I was going to ask them for their name, but James interrupted me.
“Are ya feeling better now man? Ya are looking better, but I don’t want to leave ya alone if ya ain’t.” He said, his face looked somewhat worried. I shook my head.
“I’m fine, thank you for your help, James.” I said, James was looking at me still. Why isn’t he speaking? Maybe he is lost in thought. Uhh, what do I say now? Perhaps? “I have something I need to do in our room. What are you going to do?” I said.
James nodded, he didn’t say anything but gave me a thumbs up and walked back outside. Something told me I should probably follow him, but I couldn’t be late. If I am to do this today, now is the time. I hurried through the empty hallway and into our room. It took me a second to find my backpack and take out a notebook. I looked at what I wrote yesterday, turned the page to the second-to-last page, took out a pencil from my pocket, and closed my eyes.
My hand began dancing across the page before I knew it. I let my mind empty of worry. My thoughts were like a fishing line being cast into the deep and rapidly reeled back in. The movement was the only thing that I could perceive. I felt the cold wind against my face as I was reeled in and cast out. Perhaps my mind wasn’t empty, but how else could I describe this feeling? My hand felt like fire, my cheeks like ice. My body was being pulled too and fro. Before I knew it, everything stopped. My hand stopped moving first. Then my cheeks regained feeling, and my body stilled. Finally, my mind whirled back into action.
I opened my eyes and looked around the room. An empty, messy bed to my left, my backpack at my feet, and a pillow behind my head. Nothing seems to have changed. Then what was that feeling? Vertigo? Can’t be. I stopped myself from thinking about it. If this has to do with my heart resonance, then I will find out today. First, deep breath in, hold, now deep breath out. Good, good. Open your eyes, Lenn, what did you write?
I opened my eyes once more and focused on the notebook. Then the words on the page. The words that I wrote. No more point in stalling.
‘Yours is a promise, mine was a . Yours is a promise, mine was a . Yours is a promise, mine was a . Yours is a promise, mine was a . Yours is a promise, mine was a . Yours is a promise, mine was a .’
Was that all? It was strange, sure, but with all the buildup, and yesterday’s incident, I thought there would be more. It took a while, but I gradually faded out of my reverie.
I checked the time, put the notebook back into my backpack, and headed to the hotel’s lobby. It was about 6:48am, our class was to meet there by 7am, eat breakfast, and then,if the staff member’s words hold any weight, ride Hopefuls up to the resonance well. My hand still felt hot. It was a phantom feeling, like it was yearning for the prior now faded heat.
I walked to the lobby. James was there, and so were a few of my classmates. I waited for everyone and the teacher to arrive by reading the poster in the lobby. I read ‘Hope creates the vanguard of a better world.’ probably 15 times while letting my mind wander. Before I knew it, the teacher was doing roll call, and we headed to the hotel cafeteria.
The food we could choose was plain. Mostly just toast, sausage, bacon, and hash browns. For drinks, there was water, coffee, tea, and milk. I just got some toast, sausage, and a cup of water. It was a quick meal, and shortly after I and the rest of my classmates finished eating the teacher stood up and clapped her hands once.
“Young Hopefuls stand up!” She was using that voice again, I thought as I stood.
“Good, now go outside and line up shoulder to shoulder.” She said while pointing at a window in the cafeteria. “You have three minutes, hurry now.” I made sure I had everything I needed in my coat pockets, and speed walked through the cafeteria and out the door. I was the second person out, but the last to line up. A minute later our teacher languidly walked outside and in front of us.
“I will number you off, even numbers to my left, odds to my right. Understood?” She nodded before pointing at me.
“Lenn Duomei, you are number one.” I felt my heart pick up its pace as she addressed me, I was not used to being called by my full name. I walked to her right, and she continued numbering.
I hurriedly looked around, were we getting on the Hopefuls now? The closest I have gotten to riding in one was six years ago. It was a New Year, and my family met at the Graveyard of the Hopefuls. I snuck off and climbed into the remains of a golden one. Its chest had a wide gash that led to the cockpit. The previous year I had spotted it, and that day I found I could squeeze through it. Once I got inside I had no idea how to actually pilot it, but I still acted like I could. Unknowingly I had been there for an hour, and my parents called the police who were searching for me.
After that my parents banned me from entering a Hopeful and I missed a few school events that would otherwise have allowed me to. Then after they passed, I was too overwhelmed to ask anyone until I learned about the pilot program. Last semester my grade was tested and I showed signs of natural awakening. So I have been studying for the program, but I have only seen videos or photos of the insides of cockpits other than that day. Not many places use Hopefuls for transportation, and construction pilots can lose their licenses or jobs if they allow passengers in their Hopefuls. Military ones are even more of a hurdle.
Before I knew it the class had been split into two groups, and our teacher clapped her hands once more to get our attention.
“Remember your group, if a single member in it is not with you by the time we reach the crystal cliff face, then your group will have to climb up on your own. Understood?” She looked at everyone before speaking in a more normal tone, “Good, before we leave make sure you have a water bottle on you. If you don’t have one see me, and I can get you one. In five minutes we will begin the hike to the cliff face, we should be there in thirty or forty minutes given no accidents. Now go, and come back in five minutes. We will not be waiting.”
Chapter 4
The aquamarine cliffs grew closer and closer as our group trudged forward. I was in the back of the group, at the very least no one in our group has gotten lost yet. The wind was harsh, and I had forgotten to bring gloves yesterday. It is times like this that I am glad for my coat’s inner pockets. I can keep my hands warm by keeping them in its sleeves and pockets, while carrying the water bottle. Of course if I brought my backpack, I could have left it there, but this is more convenient in my opinion. The downside is that this reduces the style I brought with this coat, but the convenience outweighs this.
It seems like we were reaching our destination, as the even group had already stopped 200-300 meters ahead of us. The wind drowned out what they were saying, but it looked like they were anxiously waiting for something.
As we closed the distance, I could hear a conversation.
“Are we seriously getting on a Hopeful, isn’t that dangerous?” Someone asked.
“All I know is that the hotel staff said we would.” It was James who was speaking. “I think they said 2
