The Collective
—day, ??th of February, 198 A.C, ??:??
“Hungry.” - ???
Of the twelve months in the year, it is this final one, February, that draws our attention the most. Only March can come close to captivating us in the same way, but only in the way that it is a response to the events of February.
Spark has a present population of seven million, two hundred and sixty three thousand, five hundred and thirty two. Of that number, forty thousand, eight hundred and twelve will take up arms on the night of the twenty ninth – New Year’s Eve, the anniversary of the Calamity. They will be stationed on the walls and barricades comprising Spark’s city limits, with the task of ceding as little territory as possible to the full brunt of the Psychon horde.
Most of the defending force will consist of a citizen’s militia, recruited by Spark’s government with the promise of both an upfront monetary reward and, should one meet an untimely end, a respectable lump sum to be given to their next of kin. For many, harsh winters, layoffs, and artificially inflated prices make service their only option.
These militia members have the highest mortality rate of those on the walls year by year. Of the thirty seven thousand, twenty one individuals comprising the militia, four thousand, fifty three will die, while sixteen thousand, six hundred and seventy eight more will be injured.
Through survival and strong performance, some veteran militia members are given the task of leading the units assigned to particular sections of the wall. These officers are, naturally, smaller in number, comprising only one thousand, five hundred and forty members. Their mortality rates are significantly lower – a dozen will be killed, and forty five will count among the wounded.
Of the two thousand, two hundred and fifty one individuals remaining, a paltry two hundred and twenty two will be members of the Watch. They will stay away from the fighting, only there to ensure that the armed citizens stay in line. The single death they suffer come New Year’s Eve will be the most widely televised and commemorated, despite being the result of unrelated cardiac arrest.
Rivaling the population of militia officers, one thousand, four hundred and eighty nine mercenaries will participate in the battle. Much better trained and equipped than the militia, they will be hired by corporations as part of their public relations campaigns. The mercenaries will be primarily placed in units of their own, along more secure sections of the wall. They will take twenty four injuries and eight fatalities.
Thirty seven combatants fall into a miscellaneous group of rich thrillseekers, altruists, and others participating off-the-books. While mostly unsuited to fighting, they will typically disengage at the first sight of any real danger, resulting in only seven casualties, two of which will be fatal.
The remaining five hundred and three persons are Veiled. While many Veiled avoid participating in New Year’s Eve, some see it as an opportunity to garner goodwill and popularity, prove their valor, or otherwise live out destructive fantasies without threat of moral outrage. While they often take up the most dangerous roles, pushing past the wall and into the thick of the horde, their Veils protect them. As a result, while a full one hundred and sixty four of them will be hurt, only six will die.
Civilian casualties will be down this year, at one hundred sixty four dead and five thousand and eight injured. Property damage will be up by a significant margin, however, as the headquarters of Tardiff Labs will be partially destroyed by an as of yet undocumented Psychon variety. All told, twenty five blocks will require reclamation efforts before reaching a livable state, while fifty three more will be harried by Psychons that leaked through the walls.
We mark these numbers as important on their own, but they serve another purpose; We are captivated by the ways in which the citizens of Spark react to such impending devastation.
***
We follow the young Rebecca Hartman, choosing denial as her strategy. Since her induction into Impulse around the Ides of October, her ever increasing busyness has been easy to hide in. Her father has noticed her frequent absence from the house, and makes a comment about it over dinner – a joke, on the outside. Rebecca counters by pointing out the connections she has made. Kuno concedes the argument with a touch of paternal grief.
We are able to anchor our focus more closely on her than before, as the Veil of the Scrapper now rides along with her, inside a special pouch on her backpack. Like most of her squadmates, she has taken to carrying her less bulky gear with her, for convenience and for safety against whoever might be out for her bounty.
Ever since she began taking iron supplements, she has noticed a marked increase in her ability to keep her energy levels up throughout the day. She still has afternoon slumps, but they have been easier to mask.
She continues to keep her conflicted feelings about Veiled to Sarie and herself. She has a hard time believing that those like the Aegis could be cut from the same cloth as those Veiled willing to kill her for a little extra pocket money. But then, just how different was that from raiding caches and forcefully subduing anyone who put up resistance?
Thankfully, not all of her extracurriculars are filled with Veiled – or so she thinks. When she isn’t training or going on the missions Sable deems safe enough for her, she spends her afternoons tinkering away at Passed Pawns. Kelly and Avery agree that it won’t be long before she finishes her first original creation.
***
Another scene bleeds in while we watch Rebecca hard at work. Sarie is at her desk, like before, but pouring now over a very different kind of document. The test in front of her is not academic, but rather financial in nature. Her bones will recover by New Year’s Eve, but hospital bills can prove far more persistent.
She fingers the Veil of the Aegis under the table, anxiously spreading out and collapsing the bands comprising it.
She debates asking Darren, or maybe Sable, to cover the cost, but quickly shakes the idea from her head. Getting her schooling paid for is too much already, she reasons. Besides, if they start asking questions they might find out what her ‘part time job’ really is. Perhaps she can sneak some studying in during slower days at work.
***
Kai tucks the Veil of the Duelist into his pocket, where it sits curiously as he enters the closest thing to an apartment his family can afford.
Stolen novel; please report.
Eleven of Kai’s siblings greet him – the other five are old enough to be working at this hour, or to have left for good. In Frontier, large families are a boon, but Spark doesn’t have many residences capable of accommodating such numbers – certainly not ones that refugees can afford. Kai considers himself lucky to share a room with only three others.
He takes the time to acknowledge each of his siblings in turn. A few beg him to play with them, but he has someone to talk to first. He knocks on a bedroom door and, after getting a faint response, gently enters.
If life had been tough for Kai in Frontier, it had crushed his mother. Scars from monster and husband are more alike than apart, and both leave their mark on the mind.
She doesn’t make it out of bed most days, but she manages a hug at the sight of Kai. The young man takes out a Bit chip and presses it into her hands, his contribution towards the month’s groceries and rent. Like all of his siblings, he does not say where he comes across the money, nor does his mother ask.
***
A birthday gift lands in Lilith’s hands. She has just finished guest starring for the morning show Jumpspark, and has not had a chance to change or even to switch her hair back from red to brown.
The gift giver looks expectantly at her. It is her older sister, Angela, wrapped up in blue as always. Lilith hasn’t done much more than wish Angela a happy birthday in years, and yet Angela stays determined to always outdo herself when Lilith’s comes around. No doubt there’s a limo waiting outside to take her to some crazy rooftop party or whisk her through a carefully planned itinerary of meals, massages, and manicures.
Lilith unwraps the present carefully, making sure not to rip the paper, and regards the gift. It’s a box with a month’s supply of bloody mary fixings sitting inside. Tucked away in one corner is a keychain filled with handmade coupons. Written onto their front in bold text is “Good for one morning of hangover care,” followed by Angela’s signature.
It’s a perfect gift, of course. Personalized, useful, encourages future engagement… and it indirectly expresses her sister’s concern for her. Which is exactly why Lilith can’t help being angry at receiving it. It is also why she pushes her annoyance down and hugs her sister, thanking her for her kindness.
The Veil of the Deadeye, locked away in her room, is out of her mind for this one day.
***
Axel is hugging Geoff, the Soul of Spark member he saved on that day in the abandoned convenience store. The Veil of the Runner hangs around his neck, seeming to everyone else to be nothing more than a normal gaiter.
Geoff’s full recovery is not the only thing they are celebrating. Their protests and city hall appearances have borne fruit. They have secured a year-by-year pay increase for those on the wall during New Year’s Eve, keeping pace with inflation. It is a much smaller victory than they would have liked, but it is a victory nonetheless.
Axel ignores the message notifications popping up on his Chipper. This is a moment of celebration, he thinks to himself. He could deal with Sable being cranky later.
***
Sable idly taps a finger against his thigh as he sends out another Chipper message. He is uncomfortable in his suit, and even less so attending these ornamental business meetings. Especially not with the current discussion going on.
He is next to the head of the table – next to his father, Charles Marten, CEO of the Marten Munitions Company. A large, gruff man who didn’t take no for an answer – in all the worst ways. He is still dead set on Sable inheriting the ‘family’ business, despite Sable’s repeated statements of disinterest. But without Charles, Sable’s wealthy lifestyle would crumble, so he supposes that he can suffer through a few hollow meetings.
Today’s topic is the tightening of security in response to the uptick in Veiled robberies against corporate targets. It is a polite way of saying that the ease with which Impulse and Springtrap had infiltrated the Shell Cybernetics headquarters had turned the company into a laughingstock in the royal court of CEOs, presidents, and VPs. It is also a polite way of saying that the MMC is not to follow suit.
Charles Marten is blowing a gasket about the whole affair, calling Veiled a menace. Sable thinks this is rich coming from the man who gave his son a handgun and a VA enrollment for his fourteenth birthday.
Sable supposes that he will have to set up a proper discussion with the other members of Impulse about the whole Shell situation. This is exactly why he did not want them to directly target a big company so soon. He had been planning to start going after VA once the new year came around, but now he would have to reevaluate.
The Veil of the Pugilist is tucked away inside Sable’s blazer, ready to act upon any new plan he devises.
***
Trevor has nothing to consider, think through, mull over, or otherwise evaluate. He sits in his room, spinning the Veil of the Scout around his arm. One year ago, he failed to save his parents on New Year’s Eve. He would never forgive himself for that, but he could at least get back at the creatures who did it.
***
One floor beneath Trevor, the Veil of the Berzerker sits on a table. It is watching Yumi run through her sword drills. She finds the practice therapeutic, so it is no surprise that, with such a deadly night approaching, she has started doing them multiple times a day.
The technique is not what one might expect from her, or indeed from anyone using a falchion. Her cuts are refined and precise as she flows from movement to practiced movement. She knows that she will throw this style out as soon as she arrives at the battlefield and the panic sets in, but when her Veil is raging through her body and her mind hangs by a thread, the memories of her training are what coat that thread and keep it from snapping.
***
Darren feels like he is about to snap in two. It normally takes a Veil drag to get him to this point, but enough twenty eight hour shifts can produce the same effect. He is going into what will hopefully be his last operation of the day. In his exhaustion, he almost puts on the Veil of the Surgeon, but thankfully realizes his mistake before he enters the theater.
On days like this, it is hard for him to remember why he took that godforsaken oath in the first place. On days when one of his patients is discharged, his reasoning becomes quite clear.
***
Diz double checks that the bar is empty and that the ‘closed’ sign has been put up. Satisfied, he places the Veil of the Heister on the bar counter and waits for Jacqueline to identify what she is seeing. After a short preamble, he picks up the Veil and, hesitating for only a few seconds, places it upon his face.
Casey waves her hands and lets out a half-hearted, “Ta-da!”
Jacqueline slowly begins to nod, then breaks into a full bodied laugh. She says that she’s sorry, but that this explains a lot. She’s glad that the two of them feel comfortable enough around her to reveal such a private part of their identity.
Casey flips the Veil upside down to reveal that ‘the two of them’ is a misnomer. Trace is excited to order a drink for the first time, which gets Jacqueline laughing all over again.
They take turns throughout the evening, staying out as long as it takes to get through a drink before handing off to the next person. Jacqueline uses the opportunity to ask them questions, one after the other. She is frequently amused by the addendums and corrections one of them will make in response to what another has said. Mostly, she is happy to see Diz and Casey drink out of joy for once.
***
As we finish our rounds of Impulse, we are once again drawn to that strange corvus, now taking residence in a long-abandoned hovel. It is undergoing a metamorphosis unfamiliar to us. It is as if the very fiber of its being is unsure of what it is meant to be, flickering and flowing between the form of a raven and of a human, taking on the characteristics of both and of neither. It is confused, hurt, and afraid. It is hungry, but it no longer knows what it can and cannot eat.
It is a mystery to us how it still lives. A mystery we find it hard to pull ourselves away from.