A Time for Discovery (D1 Plot; Wonder & Open)
Apr 3, 2012 19:07:11 GMT -5
Post by cyrus on Apr 3, 2012 19:07:11 GMT -5
The great earthquake had left a wake of devastation unseen by Cyrus in his sixteen years of life, and yet he couldn’t help but marvel at District 1 and its wealth. While District 6 had a range of homes in shape and size, none were like those in this district. There was a variety of styles, and everything seemed much more individualized than where he was from. Despite the ruins created by the quake, many of the homes also appeared to be intact. He also liked the colors of everything. There was a multitude of colors besides the usual beige, black, and gray. It was as though they wanted to have the buildings stand out, and for them to appear unique in some way. Cyrus couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.
As a skilled welder—he was quite good at the repetitive tasks that he was given—Cyrus had been one of the young men selected to help rebuild the damaged mine in District 1. He was unsure of just what he might get himself into, as he had never traveled outside of District 6 in his life, nor had he been away from his family for more than a day, ever. Other young men may have had the inkling to explore, but the more he had heard about the project, the less he had wanted to be a part of it. He knew it mean sharing close quarters with a large number of people, working in dangerous and unfamiliar conditions, and he would have no outlet of release, save for walking around a new and possibly hazardous District.
In the end, there wasn’t much of a choice as to whether or not he would be going. As the youngest of the welders, he had little say as to whether or not he would be going, and at 16, he was old enough to be considered a man but young enough to not be able to refuse their commands. As such, he was forced to pack his things and spend a number of months away from friends and family. It made him incredibly anxious—enough that he would rock himself to sleep at night—and he found himself tuning out more often than usual. He couldn’t express in words just what it was he was feeling. He’d never been good at that, and he could do little more than repeat how long he might be gone to everyone and anyone who would listen.
His last night at home had passed uneventfully, as if no one was to be bothered by his absence. His mother, unwell and in bed (as was usually the case) offered little more than a hug and kiss. His father took him aside to let him know what not to do: to talk to strangers, to take on extra work that wasn’t his responsibility, to go off on his own (as he was wont to do), to take anything extra that might lead to a higher tessera score… all these things that he was to avoid, and yet, not an ounce of what he could look forward to. His father gripped his shoulder tightly as a gesture of strength and tenderness. Cyrus calmed some as he stared into his father’s hardened face. There was nothing he could say in this moment that would make Cyrus less anxious—and yet he wanted this embrace with his father not to end for some time.
Now he was in District 1, and all signs of order had been replaced by constant changes, shifts in orders, and chaos from devastation. Order was to be restored soon, he was sure of it, but for now, it appeared that all of his superiors were struggling with repairs across the region. Cyrus found it best to avoid contact with anyone at his worksite, and to focus on the task at hand: cutting steel and rebar for retrofitting the mine. He was quick and efficient, and the constant grind of his tools meant that he got to wear sound dampening earphones that blocked out any chance of talking with his coworkers.
In the evening time, he was granted some respite by being allowed to go into the nearby town. This was his source of release, as what had not been damaged by the quake appeared quite impressive to Cyrus. He enjoyed the way the streets had been arranged, and the orderliness of it all. District 1 seemed so different than his district, yet he still couldn’t understand just why they had to be so different than his own. He stopped for a moment in front of a general store to admire the advertisements, and stood for a long while reading each and every one.
As a skilled welder—he was quite good at the repetitive tasks that he was given—Cyrus had been one of the young men selected to help rebuild the damaged mine in District 1. He was unsure of just what he might get himself into, as he had never traveled outside of District 6 in his life, nor had he been away from his family for more than a day, ever. Other young men may have had the inkling to explore, but the more he had heard about the project, the less he had wanted to be a part of it. He knew it mean sharing close quarters with a large number of people, working in dangerous and unfamiliar conditions, and he would have no outlet of release, save for walking around a new and possibly hazardous District.
In the end, there wasn’t much of a choice as to whether or not he would be going. As the youngest of the welders, he had little say as to whether or not he would be going, and at 16, he was old enough to be considered a man but young enough to not be able to refuse their commands. As such, he was forced to pack his things and spend a number of months away from friends and family. It made him incredibly anxious—enough that he would rock himself to sleep at night—and he found himself tuning out more often than usual. He couldn’t express in words just what it was he was feeling. He’d never been good at that, and he could do little more than repeat how long he might be gone to everyone and anyone who would listen.
His last night at home had passed uneventfully, as if no one was to be bothered by his absence. His mother, unwell and in bed (as was usually the case) offered little more than a hug and kiss. His father took him aside to let him know what not to do: to talk to strangers, to take on extra work that wasn’t his responsibility, to go off on his own (as he was wont to do), to take anything extra that might lead to a higher tessera score… all these things that he was to avoid, and yet, not an ounce of what he could look forward to. His father gripped his shoulder tightly as a gesture of strength and tenderness. Cyrus calmed some as he stared into his father’s hardened face. There was nothing he could say in this moment that would make Cyrus less anxious—and yet he wanted this embrace with his father not to end for some time.
Now he was in District 1, and all signs of order had been replaced by constant changes, shifts in orders, and chaos from devastation. Order was to be restored soon, he was sure of it, but for now, it appeared that all of his superiors were struggling with repairs across the region. Cyrus found it best to avoid contact with anyone at his worksite, and to focus on the task at hand: cutting steel and rebar for retrofitting the mine. He was quick and efficient, and the constant grind of his tools meant that he got to wear sound dampening earphones that blocked out any chance of talking with his coworkers.
In the evening time, he was granted some respite by being allowed to go into the nearby town. This was his source of release, as what had not been damaged by the quake appeared quite impressive to Cyrus. He enjoyed the way the streets had been arranged, and the orderliness of it all. District 1 seemed so different than his district, yet he still couldn’t understand just why they had to be so different than his own. He stopped for a moment in front of a general store to admire the advertisements, and stood for a long while reading each and every one.