Mikael Pacioli

August 3: Saint Peter Julian Eymard

There were flowers in the dining hall, adorning each table and cascading in lily-petal rains from their vases down to the polished hardwood floors of the room. The first time he entered the room, Mikael was struck - and not unjustly - by the grandeur of it all. There were no standard-cut chairs and bent metal tables that rattled when a tray was set upon them. There were no check-in lines or noisy heaters that kept the food warm through the long lunch and dinner hours. There was no alarming bell that signaled the end of one period of the day and beginning of another; in fact, there were no bells at all. And best, and most surprising of all, there were no guards.

These were Mikael's first thoughts upon being introduced to Hylas House, the main building of the small satellite CEC campus harbored within a territorial annex of the military base.

He had been at Hylas for three days now; two of these had been spent acclimating himself to the uncommonly liberated surroundings. The room he'd been assigned in the manse that served as both the main hall and dormitory was large and faced the East. In the mornings, there were sunrises and birdsongs to wake him, and in the evening, blessed quiet.

The main building was a former private home, and although Mikael knew this, he found it impossible to imagine anyone living here alone, even before the wars. They would be always lost, Mikael thought. One would always be lost in a place this large.

Despite the introductory promises that he'd be expected to keep up his academics as well as he would have at Wiltshire, Mikael's class schedule had been completely rewritten. Most of his hours were free now, although he was still required to attend the courses that met the bare minimum of CEC regulations. Mikael had spent his first half-day wandering the grounds in awe, his second in the spa house (spa house!), and his third speaking to everyone at home, telling them not to worry.

~:~

There was a large corkboard in the hallway outside of his room that advertised a number of different entertainments for the carriers during the weekends - tennis doubles, gardening opportunities, cooking clubs, and so forth. Mikael was idling in front of it, reflecting on the delight of being overwhelmed with choice, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder.  Startled, he turned, visions of red doors and lab coats flashing spasmodically through his mind.

The face that greeted him was considerably less frightening and more familiar; it was another of the Hylas new recruits - a carrier in his 30s named Jaden, who had arrived just 24 hours after Mikael. He had been brought in, the rumor went, at the personal request of the Admiral's son. All Mikael knew of him was that he wore nothing but natoris, never braided his wild, dark hair, and seemed to be perpetually amused at some joke that lay just beyond everyone's understanding.

"Choosing a new future?" Jaden asked, a slight grin tilting the side of his mouth. Mikael, exhaled, feeling his heart slowly return to a normal pace.

"I haven't decided yet, myself." the elder carrier added, shifting his weight to his left hip and gazing thoughtfully at the board. "Still browsing."

Mikael glanced sidelong at him, then back at the board.

"Gardening."

Jay raised an eyebrow.

"Gardening? Sounds dirty." he said, the only indication of irony in the momentary uptick in his grin.

Mikael shrugged.

"It's what I like. It reminds me of home."

"Home - and where's that, Mikael?"

There was something almost predatory in the way the question was asked, and Mikael hesitated at first to answer.

"North of here. Saint Xavier's."

Another momentary rise in Jaden's grin, then:

"Ah. An educated man, then."

Mikael inexplicably felt his face heat.

"And what about you?" he asked, suddenly feeling it his right to demand answers of this stranger who had made an incursion into his space and his temporary sanctuary. "Where do you come from?"

Jaden gazed at him for a long beat, then replied.

"Chicago."

Mikael blinked, surprised.

"The last standing city in the central west." Jaden added. Then, in a softer voice: "Although not standing any more."

There was a shared silence between them, and in it they were both lost in the reflections that come with catastrophe on the greatest scale - the unending inquiries, the instantaneous reversal to a place and time long gone; the evocation of the feelings of that moment, of the heat and the fear and the cold, firm brass of reality.

"I'm sorry." Mikael answered, reflectively.

"Don't be." Jaden responded. "We were lucky. We were the bones. The sickness came to us last."

Mikael wondered to himself if that was truly luck or not.

Jaden threw his weight again, sticking the opposite hip out and resting an elbow on it. In the afternoon light, he was half-shaded, and had that look about him of perfect androgyny that was so popular with all the carriers (and moreso with the officers). He was slimmer than Mikael, and had haunted gray eyes that he lined every day with cosmetic ink until they stood out against the darkness. This, Mikael supposed, was meant to give him an exotic look, but as a more traditional carrier, Mik found it a little excessive.

"So - Gardening?" Jaden asked, obviously interested in moving out of his own memories. "That's your choice?"

"Gardening." Mikael assented.

Jaden mused for a moment, then smiled at Mikael.

"Well. Perhaps I'll join you."

~:~