The trip to Skyfleet Academy would be the longest Terry had ever made.
His family didn't own a horseless carriage, so he would have to take a bus to the nearest city. Of course, calling it a city was a bit generous. In the metropolitan areas of the country, Bloomfield would be considered nothing more than a large town. However, it happened to have the only train station in the region; a train that would take him to a new horizon.
His family had accompanied him to the bus stop, which sat just on the outskirts of Garthwood, and at the side of the only paved road in the area. His mother was fussing at him the entire way, double-checking and triple-checking the list of things she and Terry (mostly she) had decided were essential to bring. This was all conveniently stuffed in a single large, green sack Terry had on his back. Skyfleet had sent it in the mail with specific instructions: he was only to bring what he could fit in it.
Luckily, they managed to fit in a lot.
"You remembered to pack that extra pair of winter socks, right?"
"Yes, mom."
"And you got your calming potions? Plus the prescription for refills?"
"Yes, mom."
"And your introductory manual?"
"Yes, mom."
“Don’t forget to read it on the train ride like you’re supposed to!”
“I will, mom–” He coughed. “I mean, won’t forget…”
She met well, of course, so he tried hard to hide the annoyance in his tone at her prodding. It was even harder to resist his hidden Benny-like side from making him sarcastically answer 'no' to one of her questions, just to throw the process in a loop. Luckily, his willpower held out, even though his nerves were already being flayed at the idea of being truly on his own the first time in his life. If anyone had told him a year ago that this would be his fate right at the start of age eighteen, he would have laughed, but the joke was now on him.
The bus was already there when they arrived. They were alone save for one other passenger already aboard, so at least this would give him time to say proper goodbyes. Naturally, his mother was teary-eyed as she said her's, repeatedly kissing him on the cheek.
"Don't forget about us ground folk when you're flying high, okay?" she said. "Write whenever you can."
"Once a week," Terry smiled. "At the very least."
He meant it, too. Being her only child, Terry knew this was going to be especially rough on her. However, he also knew his mother was a tough cookie. The nest may have been empty, but the mother bird wouldn't look mournfully at it for long.
After one last hug, he turned to his step-father, who offered him a smile and a handshake.
"Still not liking this idea?" Terry asked hopefully, wishing the answer would be a flat ‘no’, even if he knew that was unlikely.
"Of something like Skyfleet?" he asked, rhetorically more than anything. "Not completely." He raised a finger, smirking. "However, you've got a good head on your shoulders. I hope they're different from the people I served, but if they aren't, I trust you to keep from getting sucked too far in. Don't ever, ever let them take away what makes you, you."
"I won't," Terry nodded
"And remember," Harry continued. "No matter where they might send you, we've got your back here at home." He paused, then added, "Not that I would ever tell you to desert if they turn out horrible of course, buuuut…"
His step-dad threw him a wink, and Terry laughed, even though he was certain his step-father actually wouldn’t mind it if he deserted.
There was a final round of goodbyes, interrupted by the bus driver impatiently calling: "One minute then we're outa here. Sorry, but I got a schedule to keep."
Terry took a deep, shuttered breath, as he took a step up into the bus. He turned one last time to face his parents. "Whelp, guess this is it. I'll see you at Yuletide. Wish me luck."
"Good luck!" Terry's mom said. "I'll be praying for you."
Terry smiled warmly at her. He wasn't much of a religious person, but he appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless. "Don’t worry, mom. The Builder’s had my back so far. Love ya’!"
And as he stepped up the stairway into the bus proper, it hit him: his childhood was officially at an end.
It should have been more sobering than it was.
The bus ride to Bloomfield was mostly uneventful. An hour of rolling through flat farmlands and then an hour of hilly farmlands. There wasn't even anyone else onboard save for Father Sunny of all people. Terry hadn’t seen him much the rest of the summer, though he had heard he would be moving on from Garthwood. He seemed to have packed light, with only a small travel sack and a guitar case by his side. Terry honestly never expected to be on the same bus as him, but he didn’t mind the company.
Sunny didn't speak too often. He spent most of his time staring reflectively out the window. But when he did, Terry found him to be his usual mysterious, though amicable self.
“So, how did you like Garthwood?” Terry asked him during one conversation.
“Pretty darn nice, I gotta say,” Sunny said, smiling warmly. “With as many small towns I’ve visited over the years, woulda thought I’d get bored of em’ by now, but they all got their own unique flavors. Unique history.”
“You find anything interesting about us?” Terry prodded.
Sunny chuckled at that, apparently understanding immediately what Terry was hinting at. "Probably wonderin’ why I was so nosy, huh?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Terry said.
“It’s alright,” Sunny said. “Preachin’ was my big purpose for comin’, but truth is, I also had some… loose threads I wanted to tie up. The Great War cut a lot of friends apart from each other, you know, and I heard one or two were livin’ there.”
“Did you find them?” Terry asked.
Sunny shook his head, a sad smile on him. “Fraid’ not. They moved on. And now, my travels take me yonda.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Terry said sympathetically.
“All rivers flow to the sea, child,” Sunny said whimsically. “We’ll meet again eventually.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind about me, though. You lookin’ forward to Skyfleet?”
"That obvious I’m joining, huh?" Terry asked.
"Mmm, there’s an eagerness to ya’," Sunny chuckled. "Seen it before.”
“Oh?”
“That and your travel bag,” Sunny smirked. “Skyfleet issued.”
“Oh,” Terry laughed, before glancing at Sunny’s guitar case. “Speaking of traveling stuff, I didn’t think you played.”
“Not as much as I’d to anymore, but when I get the time.” Sunny’s eyes seemed to dart to the past. “I’ve always liked me some folksy tunes. Even the non-religious sort. Requires keepin’ an ear out listenin’ to the people. May sound weird, but when you do that, the universe never seems small. Keeps one from gettin’ conceited. You get to feelin’ about where your place is in the world: a part of the big ole’ song of life, Builder bless it.”
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“I… never thought of folk that way,” Terry said. “But I guess it’s kind of in the name, isn’t it? ‘Folk’ music. As in, music of the folks around ya’.”
“I feel like most music is like that,” Sunny said, before winking. “But don’t pay ole’ Sunny’s ramblins’ much mind. Just me tryin’ ta sound deep. I’m glad ya’ got something out of it, though.”
Terry couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, you’ve traveled around a bit. Have you met any other Skyfleet cadets?”
“Here and there,” Sunny nodded.
“So… what does a priest think of the whole thing?” Terry asked.
Sunny smirked knowingly. “Different than what many would expect, I'd bet. Skyfleet likes to market itself as a lotta things, but the main gist I get is they’re big on the sciences. Let me tell ya’, I got no qualms with anyone trying to understand what all this-” He gestured out the window at the rolling hills around them. “-is about. Many of mah’ predecessors couldn’t quite grasp that understanding only brings us closa’ to The Builder, but many could, then and now. Only people who got somethin’ to fear from a lil’ knowledge are those with somethin’ to lose. Catch what I’m sayin’?”
“I think so,” Terry said
Honestly, only now was he fully realizing the great intelligence behind the priest’s eyes. He hadn’t talked with many men of the cloth in his life, but if they were all like Sunny, he sorely underestimated them. He only wished that he could have got to know the old priest a little more now while he was in Garthwood.
Tepidly, Terry continued with: “You know, Skyfleet’s looking for priests. I think they want to have religious services on their ships. Have you ever thought of-”
“Fraid’ I’m a lil too old to tangle with somethin’ so young,” Sunny said, smiling politely.
Terry smirked back. “Worth a shot.”
Sunny chuckled again. “And it was a good one, I gotta say. But my path takes me elsewhere, child. Many in the nation need the word of The Builders in these changin’ times. Specially’ those outside the PDZs.”
“PDZs?” Terry asked.
“Prime Development Zones,” Sunny said. “Where the state’s focusing on buildin’ up infrastructure. Smart to focus in the highly populated areas, but it does leave some behind. Only Skyfleet seems to get to them folks.”
If any town was not in one of these PDZs, it would be one like Garthwood. Even with all the improvements the government had made to the town during the census, there was still a lot more to be done.
“Yeah, I definitely get ya’ there,” Terry nodded. “Kind of why I’m joining them. They helped out my hometown a lot.”
“Mmm, they’re a good bunch, for sure,” Sunny said, a certain twinkle in his eye. “And ain’t all that a quaint notion in the first place? A government liftin’ a finger to help out the common folk. Wasn’t always like that.”
“Not from what I hear,” Terry nodded.
“Lot can go wrong quick if they don’t,” Sunny said ominously. “I’ve seen just how far we can fall from the Builder’s grace.”
“The Great War?” Terry asked.
“Somethin’ like that,” Sunny said.
Terry raised an eyebrow. What could the old priest have seen that was worse than that?
Sunny’s words and Terry’s undeveloped hometown stuck in his mind even after they entered the outskirts of Bloomfield. Though the small city had many more shops and services than Garthwood, as well as a large federal government office complex, it was really just an up-scaled version of his hometown in the end. Though he had been to Bloomfield before, it was when he was very young, so he didn’t really take in the sights. Now he was realizing that might have been because there weren’t that many sights to see in the first place.
That being said, Bloomfield was known to be quite the Xarmist hub, so there was a lot of graffiti and posters hanging everywhere singing their phrases. These in particular seemed to be criticizing the current government from a more leftward perspective, despite the government being considered quite leftist itself from what he knew.
‘Any reforms under capitalism will be undone.’
‘Social Democracy is not the end of history.’
‘Until socialism is embraced, the shadow of fascism looms.’
Despite Terry’s friend, Rosa, actually having been quite the Xarmist herself, as well as Mrs. Holliger, he never really understood the philosophy. Or even bother to understand it, if he was honest. The Silver Republic was miles ahead of what had come before it. Why would they need to embrace some new philosophy when what they had was working?
“The Xarmists mean well,” Sunny noted, almost as if he had been reading Terry’s mind. “But they’re tryin’ to push things too fast, I think. Teachin’ old dogs new tricks is a gamble. They might learn somethin’, or they might just get mad and bite ya’. Found that out the hard way.”
Terry wasn’t exactly sure what Sunny meant by that, but he nodded along, regardless. As he did, he noticed some more graffiti, this time accompanied by two, filled circles joined together at the edge. Terry wasn’t sure why, but the symbols and their accompanying taglines gave him a chilling feeling.
‘Better dead than red.’
‘Humanity first, bugs second.’
‘Socialism only builds weakness.’
Sunny looked knowingly at the quotes. “That there’s what I mean. Every action has a reaction. Thesis and antithesis. No matter where on Sphere you go, it’s always the same story.”
Again, Terry wasn’t exactly sure what he meant. All he knew was that he was getting sick of politics. He decided to look out the window on the opposite side of the bus. Here, he noticed there were some interesting features outside of the city, high up in the nearby, looming Blooming Mountains. This was aside from what gave them their namesake: the palette of multi-colored flowers painting their bottom halves.
The most prominent was a set of cylindrical buildings practically built into the side of one. It was hard to make out the details from so many kilometers away, but luckily, the city seemed to treat it as a sort of tourist attraction. As they rolled through downtown, Terry saw a large, detailed rendition of it spraypainted on the side of one of the brick buildings.
If the painting was accurate, it showed an ancient series of structures crafted from stone blocks like in older castles. Each was connected by a series of small bridges and ropes. Apparently, these were used to move between the buildings, if the little figures painted balancing on them was any indication. To complete the picture, behind everything was a blazing sun, which in turn cast a lengthy shadow in the valley below.
Terry’s curiosity was piqued at this. “Hey, Sunny, do you know what that is?”
“Lil’ on the nose, is what it is,” Sunny said, tapping the end of his snout. “But not bad.”
“Huh?” Terry asked.
“They call themselves the ‘Order of the Long Shadow’,” Sunny said.
Terry continued to look at him, confused.
“Long Shadow,” Sunny emphasized patiently.
Terry blinked, thinking for a few seconds, then finally got it. “Oooooh,” Terry chuckled. “Damn, I’m dumb sometimes.”
Sunny laughed heartily at that. “Dun’ be too hard on yourself, child. We’re all a lil’ slow in the eyes of The Builder, afta’ all.” He raised a bony, long-nailed finger. “Not to say I think you’re slow compared to the rest of us, o’ course.”
“Guess it explains why half the shop names are ‘Long Shadow’ something or other,” Terry said. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but there was a high volume of places like ‘Long Shadow Diner’ or ‘Long Shadow Lawn and Garden’. “You know anything about them?”
“A bit,” Sunny said, nodding slightly. “Basics, only. They’re an order of monks. One dedicated to ‘gettin’ swole’, as you youngins’ say.”
Terry raised his eyebrows. “You mean body building?”
“Fitness in general,” Sunny said. “Don’t take me as sayin’ they’re a buncha meatheads, though. ‘Healthy body, healthy mind’, is one of their mottos. Wise words, even if I dun' follow em’ too often.”
He gestured down his somewhat frail body.
“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself,” Terry said kindly. “Pretty sure you could beat me at arm wrestling, at least.”
Sunny laughed at that. “Doubt ole’ Sunny could beat a fly, but I appreciate the kind words.”
The two enjoyed a comfortable silence after that. And after a few more turns down relatively vacant streets, they finally reached their destination: the train station. Like the rest of the city, it was fairly utilitarian, with a brick waiting and ticket station next to a pair of tracks, a bridge crossing them to connect two platforms. There was a light, cool autumn breeze blowing, making Terry glad he had put on a sweater. It was joined with a faint smell of coal-burned smoke, the source being the passenger train sitting at the closest platform. The name plastered on the side of its engine car was, fittingly, The Bloomfield Express.
"Well, child, this is where we go our separate ways," Sunny said, exiting the bus behind Terry. Despite looking like a man in his late sixties, he didn't need to use the railing.
"You're not taking the train?" Terry asked.
Sunny smiled coyly, shaking his head. "Trains dun go where I'm goin'. This is just the closest stop."
After they were both out, he offered Terry a handshake. Though the latter was physically chilly, Terry could sense the warmth in it.
“Was a pleasure ta’ finally talk with ya’, Terry Barclay,” Sunny said. “Make ole Garthwood proud."
"Thanks, Sunny," Terry said.. "Safe travels."
Sunny began walking away, but before he got too far, he turned, and said: “Oh, and thank you.”
Terry said, at a loss as to what he was thanking him for. Maybe just the conversation? Nonetheless, he didn’t forget his manners. “Um, you’re welcome?”
With one last courteous nod, Sunny began making his way 'yonda', as he had said. It seemed to be in the direction of the mountains, though it was hard to say for certain since Terry didn't catch much of his exit. He had glanced away from the priest for only a few seconds, and when he looked back, he was gone.
Terry blinked, glancing around in confusion. The platform was mostly empty and open. There was no way he could have gone out of sight unless he had decided to sprint. He shook his head, mentally shrugging, as he began walking over towards the train. If the priest had fallen over or something, he would still see him, so he didn't need help. It was best just to move on–
"Oi! Watch it, ya clumsy no-beard!”