The Enthusiasts

25

The mood within the group of nine continued to ebb and flow through the course of morning and leading into the afternoon. After some recovery time, Sasha could be seen mopping the deck and floors around Cheeco's bed where she'd spilled the gasoline with the intent to set the camp ablaze earlier. She replayed the events around Emerson's feat of seeming to take control of her emotions and managing to protect herself from herself. She couldn't put her finger on the physical nature of what had happened out there, but it was absolutely, positively something she knew as unworldly. As in not possible. A person can't make light encapsulate someone else and disarm them without touching them. The healing of her soul part she could fathom as being something she had done for herself after the incident, but seeing the light and feeling Emerson's mystical powers at work had shattered a paradigm which Sasha had held firmly in her mind since age seven, when The Institute had switched gears and begun training her in their military exercises. Prior to that, Sasha had felt anxious and lonely, but she still kept room in her heart for the possibility of things improving. She had fun by herself, role-playing with her stuffed animals and imagining she was a princess, or a powerful witch, or a veterinarian, or the perfect mother. Years later, after enduring a decade of psychological influence through The Institute's Super Soldier conditioning program, she was unable to recall those more jubilant memories from her childhood. As she wrung the mop head out into a yellow custodial bucket in the medic room, she watched the fuel she had soaked up into the saturated mop head mix in with the water solution inside the bucket. She became transfixed on the mundane chore, as was common for her. She imagined that her brain was in the water bucket now and watched her cares and concerns swirling around and exchanging their experiential information with the universe. With each press she gave on the lever attachment which clenched together around the mop's cloth fibers to drain its undesirable contents into the dirty water bucket, she saw her fears, worries, and cares get wrung out and washed away; she imagined that the dirty bucket water was all she needed to be concerned with at this time.

As she moved slowly and mindlessly around the area, she was again reminded of the general belief system of the Spectra regime: Mankind thrives through a survival of the fittest mentality. Anyone who believes otherwise is unable to rationalize and has to tell themselves fairy tales to keep sane. That was the purpose of the Super Soldier program in Spectra, Sasha was told — To keep the civilian bystanders in their little world of make-believe. They needed to be protected from the true reality of conflict, and the Super Soldiers would "Take the Bullet" both figuratively and literally for society whenever needed in order to make sure the average person didn't have to know about the way the world really worked... Sasha heard the reasoning in her head and challenged it with her new vision after witnessing a man stop violence by doing nothing... But perhaps the paradigm hadn't been shattered beyond repair yet. She brought up strong arguments from the other side about the countless other times when bad things happened to good people, and no one stepped in to stop it. Emerson wasn't much of a superhero, with all his cowering behind cover when bullets would fly. Why hadn't he used his shielding ability before? she wondered. Like when the camp had been under attack by rival gangs, and people had died. At least twelve people had died from foreign violence in camp since they had moved in. Sasha wrung the soaked mop head out again, and then she dried the area entirely to ward off the sub-zero temperatures from taking hold on the slippery surface. A final look around her clean-up job brought her a much-needed sense of accomplishment; the room looked better than it had before she tried burning it down, which was another plus to her. Her eyes caught a glimpse of her furry compadre still lying on the stretcher with his lazy eyes watching her work. Another gleeful twinge struck her soul as she unpackaged the ENHANCER steroid and prepared the shot that would revitalize Cheeco.

∞

Emerson was offered any and all of the pancakes which Presley had finished frying after the rest of the camp had reconvened in the kitchen area for a 'Post-Miracle-Celebration-Pow-Wow' as Achak put it. Emerson declined the offer and took note of the bare cabinetry before leaving the group to eat what was left. He hoped to clear his head by taking a reflective walk around the yard. He and Sasha had parted after the incident with a stronger sense of love shared between them. Emerson had heard some of the whispers through the group about what they claimed to have seen when Sasha lunged at him. Somehow the camp is simultaneously seeing things, he thought, and losing their minds together with the help of some hive mind's wishful thinking. That was just fine by him. They all needed a break, and he thanked God for that. All he saw was Sasha have a breakdown and get back up again to apologize afterward... It was more dramatic than usual, but he'd seen it a million times. He felt great afterwards. His own pangs of guilt subsided as all was forgiven and put right again. The event had seemed to bring some civility back to the group.