[12] Settling In (Part 2)

The elevator filled quickly with faces that were strange to me, but not to Ethan. There was a little girl standing close to her mother, staring at me with shy eyes. Her mum looked at me and smiled. I noticed the little girl holding a needle and thread. I wondered if Sewing was her favourite thing to do.

Seeing the world from this angle, I realised how broadly people's passions could be listed... what a never ending list that would be, considering countries, and cultures and religions, and dreams...

There were so many fields and so many people who loved them; from sewing, to art, to composition, to cooking, to building, to science.

The smallest things we take for granted as humans are so much more meaningful than we expect.

The elevator stopped off at the fourth floor, and the little girl looked at me once more, smiling back as I waved her goodbye. Ethan and I didn't get out. We were on our way to the ground floor.

“That's amazing,” I mumbled to myself.

“Hmm? What is?” Ethan inquired, yet I didn’t mean for him to hear me.

“I was... just thinking about how many professions people get out of their passions here. Like how literally anything people love to do here becomes their means of protecting an entire race... and that race doesn't even know they do it... and Guardians do it because they just love doing it.”

“Yea,” he chuckled, “It is pretty amazing.”

We reached the ground floor sooner than we expected and when we stepped out, I spotted the entrance door where I first walked in, and completely opposite to it were the glass doors leading to the pools, and a huge field sectioned off into parts for various other sports.

Ethan ushered me to the receptionist, whose face I'd only seen briefly upon entry, and she smiled at me while Ethan explained everything.

She said her name was Evana. In almost no time she'd pulled out a form for me to fill out with basic information like my full name and my category of Wielding. She explained that I would go through a series of exams to narrow down my creative abilities to the one I was most tethered to. I didn't object, but I felt uneasy about the way they narrowed it all down so intently.

Before I could stop myself I blurted out, “I have a question.” I covered the words with a nervous smile to seem as polite as possible. “About this narrowing thing,” I said, “Does it really only have to be one thing? What if I like drawing and writing? What if it's creative arts in general?”

She smiled, and I could have almost face-palmed myself believing she’d heard this question one too many times.

“Well, Faye,” she said, “I promise that won't be a problem. The more information you get about this, the better you'll understand. Look around you,” she gestured around the building. “Ask yourself if you think everyone else here loves just one thing. No, dear. We all have our hobbies. If there's a Guardian here whose profession is dancing, then that's what they use to protect humans. It doesn't mean however, that he or she can't love writing stories, or singing.

It also doesn't mean that just because dance is a creative art, that they have to stay within the boundaries of a creative art form. They could be a genius in math, which stretches way over on the Logical side of things and still break it down on the dance floor. Think of this world like the human world. They're both pretty similar –I would know. In the real world, people have their hobbies, but they have this one job they stick to in the end. We all have this one thing gnawing at us when all else sort of disappears.”

“What about the ones who have many different permanent jobs?” I asked.

Evana shrugged, “Well, the Esteemed –those are the Guardians who have mastered their one field- often move on to further other fields they enjoy. They're basically the guys with the Wielder PHDs,” she said, “But cooler.”

“What about the older wielders?” I asked, finding myself to be quite annoying at this point. I hated asking too many questions. It made me feel completely useless and stupid.

“Retired wielders sometimes choose to live out their lives in the human world, and they're mostly happy. Sometimes a retired wielder kicks into protective mode when there's danger around, but if their retired, they're retired. The sad part of this tale is where some retired folks lose their love for whatever their passion is, and sometimes that's the cause for a lack of purpose, and they automatically become a void soul. From there, it's either they fall back in love with it, or they don't. But they're too old to be back in the field or up and running. Sometimes death feels closer than the strength to survive.”

“That's so eerie,” I said, turning to Ethan. I shuddered unnoticeably.

“I'm assuming you told her what a void soul is, right, Ethan?” Evana asked him, raising a brow.

He nodded absentmindedly.

She realised she still had the form in her hand and she went back to her desk. There, she typed something up into the computer, pulled out a new manila folder and put my form into it before slipping it into a metal drawer.

“Just give me a moment,” she said, giggling nervously. “I'll get your apartment number as well as the key and card for you. You're going to be in one of the newer suites. I hope you don't mind heights. It's most likely going to be on the seventeenth floor.”

My eyes went wide as I blinked rapidly for a few seconds, but I sighed and dropped my shoulders lazily, “Nope, no problem.”