The Foundry | Part One | Chapter Two
the next chapter of my forthcoming novel
The Foundry
by Daphne Garrido
Part One | Thrice Bled Heart
Part Two | Rebuilt; Refound; Reclaimed
Part Three | Dominion
Chapter Two
Late as always, Echo found place amongst the dozens of fellow initiates scattering the selection ballroom’s floor. Orator Coriseau had already begun their monologue. It was a speech they clearly knew well, such flourishes shown through the flow of their unfiltered words.
Echo would know it by heart if they weren’t so prone to improvisation. Even before her first initiation, she’d watched every vid she could from cameras smuggled into this chamber scattered throughout the local phasenet. This bit coming up was her favorite.
“You will die here.”
That part always hit, along with the context which would come after such needlessly dramatic pause, embellished, as always, with their sickest smile barely seen in the darkness, before turning soft.
“If not in form, in spirit, in mind, in every bit of yourself not ready for this challenge you’ve brought yourself here to face. The Foundry will change you. You will find yourself. You’ll loose yourself. And you’ll probably, actually die here. But you all know this. You’ve each signed more waivers than anyone ever should. My hand hurts for yours. There’s a reason we have you do that. And there’s a reason you’re being discouraged the whole time by our recruitment teams. It’s because none of us want to feel bad when you get killed.”
They were clearly enjoying themself this time. Echo realized it with a smile, looking around to see false-fearlessness upon the faces of those taking this plunge along side her, reflecting remembrance of her own foolhardy self-beliefs of ego held the first time around.
“We will feel bad though. Every one of us, in our own way. We’re not monsters. We’re people, just like you. And what you’re doing, what you’ve been called to do, is join us in our fight. We honor you for that. We’re rooting for you all.”
Not everyone in The Foundry’s administration shined as beautifully from their soul as would Orator Coriseau, but their words were not false. Everyone here respected the sacrifice of these youths, the young-adults, and the aging blowhards who couldn’t let their hopes go like Echo. The dream of every person here was the same, no matter how their fate would ultimately take shape.
Echo felt a surge in her chest, some intuitive happening, one she’d think most recognized — her eyes snapping to the balcony above, landing firmly upon a shrouded figure standing near the Orator themself — it was that feeling of being recognized.
She’d not known who. Though, there were only two she’d suspect might react in such a way to transmit these levels of panicked emotion.
Rory Tyrell would be the one her mind always chose first, Echo missed her the most. Yet, she knew Alan Undroth would react much the same way; that boy was in love with her, and had been from the moment he’d met her.
She’d often get these two quite mixed up in her heart. The line between friends and lovers was one Echo found most perplexing, and these two both seemed to draw that confusion out of her. For one of them, at least, it’d worked the same in reverse.
Alan and her had spoken recently. She’d reached out to both he and Rory after such time of silence. Her false perceptions of the two was most apparent in the way he’d responded with such kindness, and Rory with more cruelty than Echo ever could’ve imagined possible.
They’d been talking since, and it seemed like he really missed her. Echo was realizing she felt the same way. Though, it was different than before. She’d not want to chase after someone like him, who couldn’t say what they felt, and only truly hoped to heal what had passed between them. They were becoming friends again. Yet, she’d still hadn’t warned him she was coming back.
All those above were chosen, committed to another, developing their mechs beside a partner. It was in pairs The Foundry’s initiates flew.
Echo had been that rarest individual the first time around. One who’d proceed forward alone, without being chosen. Her hope was to survive despite the constant disadvantages, even thrive, and forge some fateful chance at re-pairing with one who’d lose their other. In that time, she’d found these youths were most confused about how to hold their bonds, lines blurring for initiates regarding matters of friendship, romance, and sex.
This was a messy bunch, and she’d fit right in.
She made an impression upon many within The Foundry, and they were all indeed rooting for her. Though, they’d not know how to support one that didn’t ever find a pair, especially someone so committed to trying regardless.
Pushing herself beyond limits, refusing advice to stand back, Echo had taken on every initiate’s ultimate right of passage; The Gauntlet. That shot at becoming an accepted part of The Foundry was how she’d lost her place, and honor along with it. The ways she lashed out at everyone in her failure had shown her worst sides, and the pleading she’d done in its aftermath was embarrassing. Those were shames she was still working to forgive herself for.
Regardless of who it might’ve been up there, knowing there was chance she’d misinterpreted the empathetic impression entirely, she realized she did hope one of them had seen her; she hoped it was Rory.
Echo hoped they’d gotten a really good look too.
“I’ve already got somebody.”
That’s what the last two had said, verbatim. Echo couldn’t believe this was happening to her. ‘Not again,’ was all she could think as she’d searched for someone who felt appropriate that wasn’t already paired.
She’d try not to think about it, but she knew why this was hard for her.
Echo wasn’t like everyone else. Even amongst this civilization of such variation in humankind, it was rare to exist the way she had for so long; as a boy, to later face the lies which had hid her to begin with, and become the woman she truly was. It had been at this very time of self-revolution when she’d also accepted the purpose long spoken within her heart. It’s what brought her to The Foundry as one of the oldest initiates they’d ever had.
There were others like her here. Yet, none who’d hid so long, or would show so clearly what they’d once allowed themselves to be.
“Hey, have you found a pair yet?” Echo asked some girl with tattoos all over her face. They’d looked her up and down, choosing to lie, and told her they’d found someone already.
Feeling the presence of those watching down from above, and a rising panic bubbling within, she’d not wanted to show signs of desperation. Echo chose to stop begging around, and stepped away from the center of the chamber.
She had leaned there on a side-bar, and just let herself breathe.
There wasn’t anyone who seemed to be looking in her direction., though, there’d been another one of those great surges felt in her heart. Echo looked up again to the figures above, this time on her own accord, searching for who it might’ve been.
She’d stepped up beside her then.
Echo took a moment to realize the shadow she felt was in fact a person waiting for her to notice them. When her eyes fell upon the woman something happened in her belly, heart, and mind. There were holdings within her body from those she’d been so enamored with in the past who felt unbeatable in that regard, ties to the few in which she’d felt most present by simply witnessing their beauty. All that fear had left her in a moment.
This woman was gorgeous; stunning, a way about her unknowably appealing to Echo, and they were smiling at her in this way. No matter what they were to say, or ask of her, something in her knew it was to be a very good thing indeed.
Her name was Cameron.
