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Scout on Systems/Take Flight Part 1

 The bird was the first warning. The small puddle surrounding its body stayed untouched during the storm. Its feathers lay flat and well-kempt against its frame as its stiff legs pointed to the sky. Even in its last moments, it desired the freedom of the winds and the strength of flight. Its eyes stayed open, watching us walk around it on gloomy days and gloomy evenings. We didn’t have the soul to remove it; warnings often meant more when they stared you in the face.

            Eventually, its wings became blackened by the clouds, its legs limp and pointing in whatever direction the wind desired, and its eyes finally closed. Only then did the Sun come out. That was the last time it clouded my sight; what the clouds couldn’t erase, the Sun protected. Even the bird couldn’t escape its fate, so what chance did I have without any wings? After all, the Sun never shined on me.

            The Corridors were always darkened when the Sun came out. It was a trick of the mind; the contrast of light and dark deceiving me. It was always gloomy in the Corridors, through rain and shine.  The Corners were similar; not a glimpse of light beside the Identifier’s glasses shining off the metal walls. I slipped through the door of Corner 341 and prayed that for once I would go unnoticed.

“Hamala, you’re late. The Session began before your entrance. What will you present me with?” the Identifier asked.

I sighed as I closed the Corner door. I knew I had nothing to give her but my presence and that would not be enough.

“I don’t have anything to give you, Ms. I,” I said gingerly. I knew it was the last straw.

“You know they don’t like it when you call me that. Come and stand before me. You have no more Freedoms,” she said sternly, questioning my reaction.

I stepped into the glare of the glasses that fell almost off her nose. The frame she ‘looked’ through had stolen the light from her eyes; what was in front of her I knew she couldn’t understand as well as before.

“Is there something, anything, you can possibly give to me?” she asked.

I looked around us; the Hands were hunched over their desks, scratching whatever they could to make the Identifier happy. I didn’t have anything but to use my last resort, the only valuable thing I could give anyone.

“I have- I can make something for you,” I said while looking at my feet.

She titled her head in amusement, and possibly a bit of fear.

“Go on…”

It was most likely a bad decision, to trust any Identifier with a Verse. Yet she listened, and her eyes shined from the light in mine. It was agreed that I would use my Verse to make an image. A simple artwork, using paper and pencil.

I would make a drawing of a bird, a dead bird. The Identifier began to cough hysterically, attempting to cover the tears that streamed down her weathered face. She had received her third warning; there would be no more Mrs. I for first period. In fact, there would be no Mrs. I. The Hands didn’t glance up; she would be gone, and they need not present her with anything else, not even compassion.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. I,” I said.

She looked up at me, past her glasses and the screen over her eyes.

“Call me Hazel. Hazel Cannavan,” she said, and I felt that for the first time, she was truly there. Only for a second, or maybe half of one, I saw her face fall back to the lovely expression it had prided itself in so long ago. The weight on her mind crumbled, and she was free.

            The Siren sounded, and the Hands stood to commemorate the dismissal of Mrs. I. It began to announce:

Identifier of Corner 341, please report to present your Dues.

Everyone began to clap as Mrs. I left the room in the happiest state I had ever seen her. Death does not kill a person; one’s soul dies when they walk the earth without life. We were never told that death is the Dues paid, but anyone who read beyond the lines would know. There weren’t many Hands that did though; it was easier to read inside them.

“Leave it on my desk when you finish, will you?” Mrs.I said as she closed the door behind her.

“I will, Hazel,” I whispered.

Who was I to deny her dying wish?

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