The Foundry | Part Two | Chapter Twenty-Two
the next chapter of my forthcoming novel
The Foundry
by Daphne Garrido
Part Two | Rebuilt; Refound; Reclaimed
Part Three | Dominion
Chapter Twenty-Two
Breathing — that’s where the waking-cycle had started for Echo — lots, and lots of breathing.
She’d done the work. This wasn’t going to be anything she hadn’t faced before. Everything Echo had been working towards was directly ahead of her now, and closing upon her most immediately.
There was a great deal of time spent stretching her body and hydrating in the days up to Rory and Echo’s now imminent run of Apocalypse. The administration had caught wind as the word spread amongst The Foundry like a wildfire. They’d seen to formalize it, finding within it an unfortunate solution to an impossible problem, knowing there’d be no better way to contain that imminent chaos which had seemed an inevitable cloud hanging over the faculty’s perception of the situation.
Echo was very aware how some of them knew it her who killed Bliss, and the reflection would hurt her heart in great aching throbs each time she’d see it in their eyes throughout the entire course of her life.
They’d never forget. She’d never forget.
It was a tragedy, and one all felt responsible for harvesting with the way they pushed and prodded these initiates to defy their limits. They’d seen exactly what was happening and let it go on, creating the very structures which forged the pressure which had so clearly broken two of their very brightest.
One distant day, Echo would confide the truth to Orator Coriseau alone, who’d inform her he’d known from the start. What he’d told her proved a lesson she’d move forward with.
He’d only said, “What would wasting your potential have done to make up for your mistake?”
There would be no formal setting of the condition that one of them must leave The Foundry. The administrators hadn’t agreed to that, and they wouldn’t enforce it. That would be left to a matter of honor between these two women, and the agreement they’d made going in.
The administrations only, and most trying stipulation, was that before this simulation — which would take place in the classroom before their peers, as they’d both requested — that traditional handshake would take place in preemption.
Neither woman had agreed outright, yet there’d been reluctant submissions to the demand uttered by both in their very separate meetings with the faculty.
Alan was with Echo as much as she’d allowed him to be. However, there was need for silence and space to herself. In their time together she was distant. Even while in physical presence, Echo’s mind was absent in preparation.
She’d not run a single simulation for that entire waking-cycle ahead of this morning. It was a very strange feeling for a woman who averaged a disturbingly solid three. There wasn’t a single cycle passed in which she hadn’t done at least one, not since that day after she’d been dragged by Rory in Apocalypse the first time around.
This break was a meditation, an allowance for integration, and a most powerful intention of faithful surrender to fate, honoring its will for this coming battle which she’d known herself fully prepared for.
Echo had rebuilt herself just for this.
Rory was making way for the classroom beside only herself.
She’d known this needed to end. There was no other part of her emotional body active in this moment but that of focused adrenaline. What Echo had done, and the way they thought they’d get away with it. Just — ‘no’ — was all she’d been thinking.
Echo had been disturbed, and she knew that, but Rory believed it was one’s actions that mattered.
There was a layer with in her which acknowledged she’d gone too far. That woman was already beaten into the dust. Rory should have allowed their petty victory over her pride at Darkside, but the way they continually believed they’d some right to be back in her life was insulting. It was a most absurd notion to Rory, and offensive to her very way of operating.
Chloe had joined as she’d gotten near the entryway, they’d been the only one willing to run Apocalypse with her, or who’d she’d been open to run it with herself, both quite aware they’d not keep up and be dismantled in the process.
A distance had grown between Rory and Cameron. There was a mentorship which remained, being passed from senior to initiate in their relationship, but the romance was fizzled. It had broken on that beach with Echo’s heart.
Rory had noticed Cameron making these little sighing sounds and grilled her until she’d gotten to the bottom of them. They’d been feeling unhappy about all that was brought out of them, and regretful to have made that video in the first place. A part of Rory knew Cameron must have thought back to the way it was first suggested, and remembered patterns of awkwardness in its delivery which might’ve betrayed motives beyond that of fun.
She’d been putting it all out of her mind, unplugging from it as best she could. Apocalypse was her simulation. There had been no other who’d held a hope of standing before her within it. Still, she learned most recently to not under-estimate Echo.
It hurt her to say the things she had. Much later, she’d think back to feel them having come from some other person entirely. Even as she’d said them, Rory knew she didn’t mean it, that they’d simply been a necessity drawn from her by this woman who needed to be taught a harsh lesson about boundaries, and shown clearly her place.
Rory stopped outside the open passage into the classroom. She breathed there, realizing she’d not been taking the greatest care of herself leading up to this. Resolve and excellence were two things this the woman could always summon most abundantly, however, regardless of circumstances. That was Rory Tyrell’s gift.
Atmosphere was a word Echo had been reconsidering the meaning of as she’d entered the classroom.
Its cascade of seating, seen to her left upon entry, was entirely overfull — a space meant for forty with an extra dozen squeezed in — standing-room finding itself quite utilized as well. It seemed the entire Foundry was here.
That chamber was ripe with a sense of foreboding excitement, so mixed and tumultuous, anticipations of horror and bliss throughout. Echo hadn’t felt such a thing, another in the long line of firsts borne from her experiences at The Foundry, and her self-determined competition with Rory.
Echo had chosen to adorn herself in a choice of clothing which would be seen as most odd. She’d worn a dress for the first time in her life. There was nothing keeping people from wearing whatever they chose here at The Foundry, yet utility would be seen as a virtue and had become a contagious choice throughout. No matter what people might think of the decision, projections they might hope to cast about it being a matter of seeking attention, Echo had done it for herself alone.
Pressure brought the best from her, always. The worst too, but the kind she’d found in that classroom was an elevated version of the sort which had always birthed the most expansive expressions of her own nature, transcendent realizations of greatness from deep within the woman.
There’d only been a few times in her memory which this feeling had existed as even a pale comparison. Yet, those had been the best times of her life. Opportunities Echo had to enter an arena she knew herself most capable of competing within. Chances to show-out what she’d prepared for — those few in which she’d actually had the time and space to get herself ready in the proper way.
Echo was excited to see what this brought out of her. There’d been such opportunity for that needed preparation, and finally with someone like Alan to help her feel grounded by their honest seeing of her heart.
She didn’t care if she’d win or lose this fight. Echo wasn’t going to leave either way. This woman had no power over her, and she was going to expose that to her in a glorious revolution of her own excellence. Not to mention, there wasn’t a shred of doubt within Echo that Rory was planning the exact same thing.
Orator Coriseau had been assigned to facilitate the handshake. As Echo approached she saw Rory resting on that same hardseat as before, calling back memories of her holistic moral defeat at their hands in this place.
Behind him at the control center was Leopold. He’d been running this simulation, as per Echo’s demanded stipulation. There was a conversation between her and him after she’d secured the agreement. Echo made him promise that he wouldn’t help her in any way. She wanted a straight fight, and that’s why she’d chosen him.
Echo had been left standing in the center of the room before her peers and the faculty for a longest time. There was no doubt in her of some premeditation by Rory to stay seated through that span.
They’d not realized her thriving off of it. She’d smiled to the crowd, shrugging in question of their odd behavior. Despite reflections of confusion regarding who this enigmatic and mysteriously dangerous woman was that had been evading all definition to her peers, or the sadness shared between herself and the administrators who knew what happened, this moment was packed full of that perfect kind of pressure.
She'd been breathing it in, and exhaling out the part of her mind caught in worry. To ride these waves of adrenaline would be Echo’s favorite thing, and especially their wrought moments of presence.
When Rory approached at last, they’d been staring at Echo furiously. She was focused by purest anger and in remembrance of all passed between them; what Echo had done. There was clear intent to intimidate, and Echo found it worked. After all this time without their eye’s focus upon her in close quarters, for it to be like this, had shaken Echo for a moment.
By the time they’d settled before her there wasn’t a shred of the notion left inside. They’d been washed away in the waves of all this situation was drawing from Echo. She’d stared down at the woman, realizing in that moment how foolish she’d been to cede them such power over herself.
Rory was just a kid. A stunningly magnificent one, who’d taught her more than anyone else ever would through being herself, but still a kid. They’d told her this about themself and she chose to ignore it. She’d given them more than they ever asked for or deserved out of her, and it was time Echo took that back.
As she’d felt empowered by this profound realization, there was some sight of Rory’s perception of it. Then a flash of sadness which was gone as soon as it’d appeared upon their expression.
Echo would hope to one day know the truth behind that intuitive gleaning she had in witness of that brief emotive lapse. It spoke clearly to her of their own journey, and it being far more challenging than she’d ever given Rory grace or credit for.
Despite its lack of clarity. She was able to use it, finding a valve it opened within her broken heart, which would allow that anger held towards them to begin seeping from her holding. She’d recognized how useful this might be in what was to come, discovering the cloudiness of her mind making way for clarity.
Rory must have noticed this too. They’d been displeased, recognizing the shift in Echo’s energy, as they’d mouthed it silently; ‘Daniel.’
‘Well, there goes that.’ Echo thought. ‘Oh well.’
They hadn't shaken hands, and eventually Orator Coriseau just called the stare down good-enough.
Echo had only a few more moments of quiet breath before she plugged in. They came after she’d sat as the Orator was using his words to hype the crowd more than they’d already been, the man always a louse for the opportunity to show-off.
She’d looked over to Rory before the cap came down, and they were staring at her with more intentions of intimidation and hatred. Echo thought about mouthing something back, even shouting it, but all she’d done was smile and draw the shape of a heart into the air with her index fingers.
