The Foundry
by Daphne Garrido
Part Two | Rebuilt; Refound; Reclaimed
Part Three | Dominion
Part Four | Unmasked; Unbound; Unleashed
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nearly ten seconds ticked past with all three of them sitting in the silence wrought, after riding that shockwave which rolled through. The Foundry around them reverberated in a portrayal of distant violence for seconds on end. Echo was with Leopold in the laboratory, and they were working on a simulation she’d dreamed up. He’d been most excited for the opportunity, with hopes to one day become a designer himself.
Rory was there too. The lab was that place she’d most often be found these days. Having made the most central workstation her own, Echo noticed others avoiding it all together when she wasn’t present. She thought, perhaps, it was a deference paid to the importance of the work she’d been doing by reconstructing her Bliss.
She wouldn’t be the same, not exactly, but that intelligence was backed up many times, and there’d been a copy from before Echo left which felt like a good place to re-start from to Rory. There were many copies she’d gone back beyond. In some sense, it felt like sacrificing growth made, but another part of her knew that she’d wanted another shot at building Bliss out. Rory told Echo, when she explained all this to her, “I can do it better this time.”
There was a look on Rory’s face when she’d pulled back from her station. She’d caught sight of those frightened ponderings layered into the expressions of Leopold an Echo, a notion mirrored in herself, despite having only felt the shake, not hearing the rattling bones of this vessel as the others.
Rory’s sense conveyed within its nuances some gift quite similar to Echo’s, perhaps, tuned to a slightly different frequency. Later, they’d confide in her that they knew exactly what it was in their gut.
Leopold found a speed which outclassed the two women as they’d made their way through the winding corridors, then up the epic Grand Staircase; such breadth to its steps, and elevation to its height earned. His terminal told of something which activated the man.
All which had escaped him was, “Space-side entry terminal,” and nothing more; that very same place Echo found herself upon returning to The Foundry.
“Let’s not do that,” was what he’d said, seeing Rory cut a path for the elevator’s which might take them topside in quicker fashion. Something about that way Rory recognized the wisdom in his words and abided it most immediately, without second thought, impressed a profound seriousness upon Echo regarding the situation. She’d been more focused on that, ignoring her arching muscles and sweating brow, unable to shake the worries it birthed throughout their ascent.
To discover things far worse than she’d ever expect was shocking. Echo wouldn’t fully process the monstrous nature of the event, nor the impacts it would have inside herself and upon The Foundry until far later in life. It would be a constant unpacking to integrate, along with all the terrible things Echo witnessed done by her own kind, to each other, along with all those awful actions she’d perpetrated herself.
There was an airwall put-up between the upper landing of the Grand Staircase and The Foundry’s illustriously designed entry terminal. The compartmentalization had been done in clearest haste, apparent by the way its lacquered border of sealant was still most visibly drying.
Echo saw that Ekara was alive and well, also leading the response team which erected the barrier.
She’d been helping folks suit-up in hazmat jumpers, to then clearly queue them by the closed, and zippered passage through that thickest plastic sheeting. It hadn’t even been a question. When Ekara saw the three, there was a sense of greatest relief in her eyes, she’d immediately shuttled them towards those technicians who’d been getting others suited.
Ekara’s tenacious leadership, wielded so without hesitation, felt most regrettably honorable to Echo, and it had her feelings toward the woman growing more nuanced by the moment.
Once through and with sight of that space-side entry portal, in witness of the destruction; all technologies providing its energy shielding blown through — every loose piece of architecture and infrastructure of the place simply gone — was when Echo realized that feeling she’d been preemptively processing through a clearest reception.
She’d share those suspicions with Rory and Leopold as they dawned on her. Each of them was clearly hoping for Echo to be wrong with her own brand of intuition; a solid bet a lot of the time, so often proving herself to feel near-truths completely out-of-time, or most garbled by her own hopeful wanting.
This certainly wasn’t something tainted by hope. When Echo smelled the burning flesh as she’d seen the image, something within her was of knowing; there was a deepest truth within her vision. She’d been absolutely right on this one.
Cameron Woodly was dead.
They’d later discovered she dropped out in secret, opting for a life more ordinary than one spent beside people as uniquely driven to be their furious selves. Perhaps, also, some sense of her seeking a place with less rich history, and more space to carve her own legacy, without the shadow of such intimidations.
She’d been planning on going home, in-turn, making way back to her place of comfort. Echo would pray often for the woman, who’d gotten her wish in a most unexpectedly profound way.
Fear had taken Cameron, as would many, though none here would blame her in the end. It was only a reflection of the evil which enabled that still-mysterious force to craft this most terrible strike against the potential saviors of humanity in Boreál. It was only later where the notion had become obvious to all three of these united heroes of The Foundry — there was only one way this could’ve been possible.
Some hidden agent, or agents, of their yet unknown enemy were much nearer than they’d ever hope to discover. This had been done by the hands of their own.
