Heart's tale

Chapter 12 part 1

The leaf was growing again. And there was peace and order in his soul. He experienced the same familiar feelings. The security, the confidence in every movement. He could open himself boldly, unafraid to go beyond the edge of his shell. Except there was no source, the power came from within the leaf himself. He nudged, and the first receptacle opened and released him. But instead of unfolding like a sail, he threw his thin limbs forward, broke the covering, and... crawled. How could a leaf crawl, though? He no longer understood, but he was certainly crawling. These limbs, which had only recently emerged, were pulling forward his elongated body, which had no intention of opening. The surface was unfamiliar; he felt no trace. Only something warm and native remained behind him, something in which he had grown and become a... b-b-b-b... beetle?

Recognizing himself as a beetle was something unimaginably new to the leaf. He tried to overcome the memory of striving for growth and photosynthesis, which was certainly aided by his front, back, and, as he was surprised to find, lateral limbs. But then a thought flashed through his mind that made him stop. Lieutenant. He also remembered the lieutenant. Menace of the fleet, the ace of the ace. Flight. He remembered the flight. The wings themselves opened behind his back, immediately catching the tiniest movement of air, and he whirred and rose above the metal ceiling.

He remembered that he always passed the academy obstacle course with the best result. Navigating between the metal structures attached to the large dome vault, the beetle repeated this or that pirouette he remembered from Lieutenant Storm's life. Wind, freedom, boundless happiness. But those memories, so quickly and unexpectedly caught up with him, had already been replaced by memories of being the leaf and falling. And the distance was great, losing altitude and his connection to his own source. Circling in a great spiral, yielding to despair and a sense of irretrievable loss, the beetle glided down into the great hall, where probably all the lawmakers of the City have gathered today to hear Grand Master Perleglose speak.

"Dear members of the assembly, I wanted to remind you of the following lines of the Last Poet," Trocchia said and coughed. "Прекрасно будущее то, что не страшится нас и к нам направит сквозь года свой благосклонный глас. И свой бескрайне трудный путь в далёкое Туда начну идти уже сейчас я с чистого листа."

Perleglose paused for a moment and looked at the well of the Senate towering above him.

"I think you all remember these words well. They were imprinted with youthful fire in the heart of everyone who lived with me in that glorious time when they were written. Yes, it was a time of mistakes and experimentation, but it was also a time of hope. We raised our children not as mercenaries and individualists, but as a single organism, where the main qualities were altruism, honor, conscience, unselfishness. How can we speak of a future, a bright future, when we step toward it out of depravity, self-interest, and betrayal? What do we teach the younger generations? What example are we setting? And what do we ultimately wish to achieve?"

He took a breath, took a sip from a glass of water, but coughed. Something got in his throat. Pressing his fist to his mouth, Perleglose coughed loudly one more time, spit imperceptibly into it, and with a brief glance at the beetle left in his fist, he continued:

"No, we will not make that leap, we will not build the life we dream of, if our decisions and our deeds are dictated by the aspirations of individuals to satisfy their own petty ambitions, leading to such disastrous consequences as we can see today."

Perleglose wiped the bug on the edge of the podium and pounded with his fist:

"You know of whom I speak. The one who opposed the will of the Heart under the guise of fine words, used means and influences to lead us to today's tragedy. I am speaking, ladies and gentlemen, of Seran Tygrade, who is present here today."