It had been quite some time since Lead Guardian Rooted-Place had visited the College’s infirmary, as it had been quite some time since a Guardian had been seriously injured in the performance of its duties. Of course, small injuries were common enough, but Darksoil was a peaceful place. The chaos of angry disagreements and unthinking carelessness had been carefully tamed under decades of its planning and guidance.
But now something had broken that peace. The source was, of course, Scholar Ink-Talon. This affliction of the mind had threatened to disrupt the peace of its city from the start. But while Rooted-Place had expected this, what it had not expected was the actual fault for the disruption to lie with one of its own Guardians.
“You did not have to travel all this way to see me, Lead Guardian.” Guardian Silent-Wing sat on one of the multitude of cushions used for bedding in the infirmary, its left wing tightly bound to its side and immobilized by a combination of splints and cloth bandages. The old tortoise’s eyesight was not very clear, but the owl’s eyes were so large that it was impossible to miss that it was not meeting its gaze as it spoke.
“Yes, I did.” Rooted-Place grunted. “As a Guardian, you are my responsibility. I am responsible for injuries you sustain in carrying out your duty, just as I am responsible for your failures in that duty.”
“...Of course.” The owl visibly sagged before it tensed itself, bracing for the coming reprimand. “I failed in my duty, and was injured as a result.”
“Correct. But do you know what your failure was?”
“I was outmaneuvered and allowed Ink-Talon to-”
“No.” The Lead Guardian stomped its forelegs, interrupting Silent-Wing. “Your failure was that you attacked first.”
“But… You expressed yourself that they were dangerous! That we were to keep them contained for the safety of everyone!”
“They are dangerous in potential. They are like people delirious with a high fever, or those who have overindulged in fermented fruit.”
“Do these afflicted not pose a far greater danger than those?”
“Yes, but that is not an opinion shared by the public.” The tortoise scanned the room around them. The only other creature present was the afflicted crab on the far side of the room, and it was likely not capable of eavesdropping in its condition. “The afflicted are all outwardly well-spoken, pitiable, or both. They are easy to sympathize with.”
“Why should that matter?”
“Tell me, Silent-Wing, how long ago did you hatch?” Rooted-Place fixed a stare on the owl’s face.
“It will be… four years ago as of this Dry Winds.”
“Then I have been Lead Guardian of Darksoil for more than twenty times longer than you have ever existed. I learned something very important as I watched generations of younger creatures come and go. I realized that they live in the moment, for a moment is all they have. Their opinions are ephemeral, quick to change, and they give little regard to the distant future. However, opinions are also the basis of Consensus. Consensus is power. Power can be wielded for stability and peace so long as it is given a steady and consistent guide.”
The owl did not respond, and its stare betrayed a deep confusion. This was all clearly too complicated of a concept for it to properly comprehend. Rooted-Place would need to simplify it.
“Guardians are a defensive measure against those who do not know better. We do not attack unless we are first attacked. To strike first is to instill fear in the populace.” The tortoise stepped forward and pushed its reptilian beak close to the owl’s own, making sure it could make its point clear. “Fear is a tool of the weak, of those who are too short-sighted to see that fear becomes justified hatred, and that the people’s hatred will strip them of everything they have ever worked for. You cannot lead people who hate you, no matter how much you may know better than them.”
“I am sorry, Lead Guardian.” Silent-Wing hooted with genuine remorse. Remorse would not undo what it had done.
“I am glad that you now realize your true failure. I hope the knowledge serves you well in whatever role you pursue in the future.” Rooted-Place snorted and stepped back, watching the owl stiffen even more as it realized what that meant.
“Wait! Please let me-”
“A Guardian must protect their public perception as much as their people, because it is that perception that commands power, not the Guardian itself. You have ruined yours, and must be excised from the rest of us to not damage ours. You are no longer a Guardian, Silent-Wing. Farewell.”
The owl continued protesting and pleading as the Lead Guardian slowly walked away, but the tortoise simply tuned it out. It could not afford to give sympathy to the undeserving. There were far more pressing matters in need of its attention, and fulfilling this obligation had already taken up enough of the day as it is. Ink-Talon fleeing was proof enough that mental stability and “good behavior” were not remotely guaranteed among the afflicted, even in those who had shown no signs of irregularity. It would have been an easy case to make to the populace, too, if not for Silent-Wing’s violence in the chase.
The details of the incident were not yet common knowledge, but the Seeker’s report was a matter of public record. If the subject were to come up during a Consensus, then it would strengthen the afflicted’s case. The entire incident was worthless as evidence. Still, there was no rush. Politics was a long game, and Rooted-Place had all the time in the world. Security would redouble, and the afflicted would once more chafe against the restraints. Someone’s delusions would eventually drive them to do something foolish, proving to the people that the danger was real.
“Excuse me!” A loud snap drew the Guardian’s attention. It was Explorer Valiant-Claw, or who it believed itself to be, demanding its presence with a sharp clicking of its claws. “Sorry, I try not to pry, but you were rather animated during part of that discussion, so I caught a small bit of it. I wanted to offer some advice, one elder to another.” It was clear that the crab had to devote all of its attention and concentration to expressing itself, and its movements were both deliberate and somewhat exaggerated as a result.
“How much did you witness?” Rooted-Place turned and approached the crab. It had not expressed anything that would have been alarming to anyone eavesdropping, but it had been more open about its intentions and goals than it normally would have been.
“Just the part where you were talking about all the younger creatures and how they lack foresight.” The crab waved a claw in Silent-Wing’s direction. “It’s a good point, you have to live long enough to experience consequences to care about them. But speaking from experience, you should be careful not to overdo it.”
“You do not have experience to speak from, Valiant-Claw, no matter what you may believe.”
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“Maybe so. Maybe this is all a dream, the last fantasy of a failing mind.” The crab seemed to curl in on itself as it expressed this. It was clearly much more self-aware of its reality than Rooted-Place had expected. “But just in case it isn’t, I would like to do my best to help as I’m able. You don’t have to take my advice, but I’m going to give it anyway.” Its movements snapped right back to the overstated confidence it had before. “If you spend all of your time thinking about the future, then eventually you’ll run out of time to spend. If you never live in the moment, then towards the end you’ll realize that your life was spent without living at all.”
“Are you finished, Explorer?” The tortoise grunted, refusing to even humor the suggestion with an acknowledgement.
“Yes.”
“Then I wish you all the best in your recovery.” Rooted-Place once more made for the exit, and this time there were no more interruptions. As it stepped on to the small cart that one of its assistants used to transport it to and from its home, it couldn’t help but think about what the crab had said. The sentiment stuck in its mind like a thorn, refusing to be ignored. Valiant-Claw seemed to think that there was some kind of balance to strike, that acting on one’s whims had its place in a well-spent life.
Absurd. This is why I do not directly converse with the public. It is wrong, and it will be made to realize that soon enough.
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“You picked a hell of a good day to start moving about. If looks could kill, that owl over there would have murdered us several times over by now.” Maggie extended a supportive wing to help steady the coconut crab as she found her footing on the wooden floors of the infirmary. Even facing away, she knew that Guardian Silent-Wing was boring holes into the back of her head with a glare from its bed across the room.
“I’d like to see it try!” The crab snapped the smaller of her two claws. “I feel like I could take on the world right now.”
“Well, let’s get you settled in before we start booking matches. And yes, that is a joke!” The myna shouted back over her shoulder at the coyote Guardian glowering at the pair from the doorway. Ever since Ink-Talon escaped, it’d been extra jumpy and strict. All the Guardians had been. They must have been given a rough dressing down for how much they’d been slacking in their assigned duties as of late.
“So!” Another snap from the crab broke the tension as it began to carefully scuttle in the direction of the door. She had been practicing moving her legs in the correct sequence for the past few days, but could really only manage a slow, straight line while conversing. Anything more and she would need to devote all of her attention to keeping her multitude of limbs from getting tangled. “What are the rooms here like? Is it a communal situation like this hospital, or is it more like apartments?”
Walking and talking with the crab was pleasant. Now that she could actually communicate without exhausting herself, she was quite the chatterbox. Her raw cheerfulness was almost unwarranted, given the circumstances. Maggie was no stranger to forcefully projecting a happier persona, but that had been rather unhealthy for her. She had to check, just to head any problems off at the pass.
“Oh! This is honestly better than I expected!” The crab was busying herself carefully examining the unique fixtures in her room, which required her to stand next to or hold whatever she was looking at and then stand stock still as she focused on moving her eye-stalks to get a proper picture of whatever she was looking at. A crab’s eyes were by far the most alien feature of them compared to any of the other bodies the humans had ended up in, and yet beyond the annoying need to concentrate on moving them, she hadn’t once complained about it being strange. “They even provided some rags for dampening myself if I need to. I was prepared to have to go find a washroom, or even a well.”
“Hey, be honest with me, are you holding up okay?” Maggie asked the question rather bluntly, causing the crab to set down the rag she’d been holding and slowly pivot to face her. “You’re taking to this way too well.”
“Oh, I’m okay. I’m better than okay, even!” The crab snapped both claws and tapped her right three legs in sequence. “I’ve had three weeks or so to think about what I’d do once I was up and moving again. Why wouldn’t I be excited?”
“That’s another thing! You’ve been stuck in place this entire time, trapped in your own mind.” Maggie tilted her head, eyeing the crab with mounting concern. “You can’t just be… okay after that! Even in this world, that would qualify as torture!”
“Did I ever tell you about my life before this during one of our therapy sessions?” The crab’s tone changed drastically as she asked the question. Not to sadness or anger like Maggie would have expected, but her movements and taps instead expressed a wistful nostalgia.
“No, and I try not to pry.”
“Well, this is important, and I need you to know so that you’ll believe me when I say that I am fine.” She began to pace a bit, expressing her story in her steps as much as in her claws and eyes. “One of my last clear memories is of a birthday. My eighty-seventh. I know I’ve had at least a few more after that, but I don’t know how many.”
Oh. Oh no. Maggie’s heart sank as it dawned on her just what she’d just waded into with her line of questioning. But she didn’t dare interrupt.
“I’d been living in a nursing home for almost fifteen years at that point. I’d been bedridden for at least six. I don’t remember exactly when the dementia diagnosis was delivered, but it was between those two points.” The crab took a few steps closer and gently placed her smaller claw on the myna’s shoulder. “Little bird, I have been a prisoner of my own mind and body for longer than most of the animals here have been alive. When I first woke up in Valiant-Claw’s body, I could think and remember and be aware of my surroundings clearly for the first time in at least a decade. So when I say that I am happy and excited to live this life, I mean it. Even if it’s temporary, even if I’m living on borrowed time before I finally fade away and return this shell to its rightful owner, I am going to savor every moment and experience that I can. Okay?”
“Okay…” Maggie took a deep breath, unsure whether to process everything she just heard or just try and forget she ever heard it. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t-”
“Of course you didn’t know!” The crab playfully shoved the bird with the claw on her shoulder, immediately returning to her previous cheerful demeanor. “How could you? You were right to be concerned, and I appreciate you taking the initiative to bring it up. You’re doing fine, little bird.”
“If you say so,” Maggie looked off to the side, still uneasy, which prompted the crab to continue.
“I’m sorry that the explanation was so unpleasant, but that’s just life, sometimes. It’s going to be full of unpleasant things we can’t avoid, which is why finding joy and holding onto it is so important.” The crab’s left-center leg tapped the floor idly as she thought about something. “I’d like to go see the other Explorers if they’re available. Would they be in their rooms, or elsewhere?”
As it turned out, Verdant-Trail and Eager-Horizon weren’t in their rooms, nor were they out in the courtyard. The sun was particularly harsh that day, and the Komodo dragon hadn’t needed to spend much time sunbathing at all. Instead, they were relaxing in one of the bathhouses, the same one that Maggie and the others had been quarantined in initially. Even the bat was spending time with them, in a rather stark change from their typical asocial behavior.
“Valiant-Claw!” Eager-Horizon was the first to spot them, fluttering out of the wooden bowl that it had been enjoying a soak in and making quite the mess as it did so. “Or rather…” The odd bird landed and trailed off awkwardly, realizing its mistake. “Regardless! It’s good to see you moving about.”
Nice save. Maggie held in a sigh at the display. This was far from the first time she’d been witness to the whole “fumble and then try to talk around the issue” routine regarding their condition, but it hadn’t gotten any less awkward regardless of how many times it happened. It was a good thing that there was at least some kind of hope now for the natives stuck in mental stasis, but Maggie wasn’t exactly optimistic on the odds of everyone ever being able to exist at once. Maybe there could be a trade-off arrangement like Verdant-Trail and Chase’s, but they couldn’t just get new bodies to put people in. No matter what, someone was going to get a raw deal.
“Oh, don’t be down about it, little bird!” The crab prodded her with a claw, having noticed her ruminating. “Same goes for you, Explorer! I won’t have anyone feeling bad on my account, especially not for that!” She shuffled her legs about a bit before suddenly jolting forward, somehow having become even more energetic than before. “Ah! That’s right! If you’ll indulge an old woman, I want to say something to you two.”
The crab paused, taking a moment to carefully arrange her legs in an odd alternative to taking a deep breath. She then swiftly extended her right claw out parallel to the ground before drawing it back in at an upward angle, halting just short of hitting her eye-stalks with it. While Verdant-Trail and Eager-Horizon had no context for what they were looking at, Maggie recognized it right away. It was a salute.
“Explorer Garden-Blessing, reporting for duty!”
After several beats of stunned silence, each of the other creatures in the room more or less responded in unison.
“What?”