Select Theisein held his pipe in his hand, fidgeting with it, as he looked out over the city. It was cloaked in darkness tonight. Most of the fires had died out, at least in the direction he was looking.
He sat on his regular bench upon the spoke from Tower 6. It was the only one left untouched, from what he could see.
He put the pipe in his mouth, clenching it between his teeth. He hadn’t any matches and…the old way didn’t work at the moment.
He pulled it out and fidgeted some more, impatient and frustrated.
He heard Select Radigan’s footsteps from far off. The city was hushed–not silent, but scared.
“At least our bench survived,” Radigan observed as he slumped down. “What a interminably long day.”
“More than 250 dead in our Tower alone. The reports from the city are almost too terrible to be believed.”
“They’re about what you’d expect, considering.”
“True.” Theiseim felt that edge of panic that had cut at him all day begin to fade. “In a week, we’ll have more accurate numbers. Then we can move forward with the best data available. You haven’t got a match, have you?”
“Afraid not.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll make do.” He stuffed the pipe back between his teeth. He sucked out of habit, and it irritated him unreasonably.
“Clean up will take some time,” Radigan mused. “That’s the first thing.”
“We’ll have to deal with the unrest in Section 2.”
“That unrest will take care of itself. It always has. There’ll be a whole host of individual issues in the different Sections. It’s to be expected. Let the Guides take care of those. The people will need guidance now more than ever. But the big picture is clean up and reconstruction. Improve on what worked before, change what didn’t. That’s the Jalseian way. Knowledge through trial and error. We’ve been given a clean slate, or as close as we’re likely to get. We shouldn’t squander it.”
Radigan was right, of course. Theisein and Radigan had met for years on this bench to discuss the happenings and rumors of Jalseion and to air their own opinions and plans on how this experiment should be adjusted or how that line of inquiry could be explored more fully. Radigan had the better head for the long view; Theisein got lost in the details. He needed Radigan to pull him out of the rubble and give him the lay of the land.
Radigan sat with one leg over the other knee, hands folded and resting upon his leg, chin upon his chest, staring across the distance to the dark houses. “The Overseer’s dead. It’s not widely known yet. The people liked him tolerably well.” He shifted. “I think I will enter the Cunning.”
Theisein felt a small thrill, like when a hypothesis is proven right. “We need a man who won’t get lost in minutia and pet projects.”
“My thoughts exactly. This is a great city, the Grand Experiment to better the world. Today hurt us. I’ll admit that. It hurt us badly. But it presents innumerable opportunities. This is the beginning, if we’ll seize the moment. The majority of them won’t know what to make of such an opportunity.”
“But you will.” Theisein clapped him on the shoulder. “You will! You make me hopeful.”
They sat, considering the future and it’s possibilities. All around them, Towers crumbled and broke apart. Fires sputtered and died. They could smell death and ash. And below them, a chasm dark and empty and hopeless waited.
The question formed on Theisein’s lips. “And the Well?”
Radigan did not answer, and Theisein chewed worriedly on the stem of his unlit pipe.
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