D.ALL Chapter 20

Its tail was completed a while ago. Dyehearts placed deep in between each scale, ready to spring out with the single pull of a cord. A surprise for the finale, after the Dust Devil “dissipated” at the end. It did not take long, three hours or so—it was as simple as placing them in the slots she had prepared.

However, the body—what she was working on now—was a different beast.

The idea was that the strips would obscure the costume’s form, like it was hidden behind a dust storm. Without the need to fill the stage with a real one, Cornel’s suggestion.

She wanted to use kelp painted to look dusty and aged, envisioning them flowing spectacularly in the wind as she danced—it would have been simple to do, if a little monotonous.

Unfortunately, things did not turn out as easily as she envisioned.

The kelp she was planning to use—that was carefully cultivated to be used in place of fabric—was all dead or too short to use. When someone wasn’t looking, a herd of Coin-urchins ate them up—leaving only a few stalks after they had their fill.

The rest of that day was a blur of looking through the art center’s storage for a replacement—at first, she thought she had found something suitable. But when she went to test, they barely lifted off the ground against a shop fan on high.

Deep into the night, she desperately tested every single material in storage—but they were either too fragile, too heavy, or too thick. The day after that, she went down to Reef Coal, scavenging what she could from thrift stores. And after hours of searching, she found a fabric that worked well enough, but now most of the day was gone.

Sidetrack after sidetrack had led her here, restlessly working on the eve of the festival.

Her only break was when Melli and Albo dragged in her parent’s ketch. It made her smile, and if it was any other day, she would have hopped down and forced Lav to play pirate—like Lav did to her when they were younger.

As for Lav’s reaction, she slowly looked up from her book, said “Cool”, then went back to reading.

Sal would have said something, a comedically dramatic cry about how Lav had lost her wonder for adventure!.. But Sal didn’t, going back to work just as quickly as Lav had gone back to her book.

She didn’t see the look on Melli’s face, but she could feel his frown as he cheerfully told her, “Good luck and fare-thee-well.”

Lav left shortly after. She had been with Sal since dawn to dusk. “Nothing better to do,” she said when asked why she stayed for so long today. And maybe there wasn’t but—

Snap.

Sal froze, her hands shaking as her focus returned. She frantically looked around, checking every scale to see which one had gone loose—if she was quick enough, she could fix it and prevent the rest from sharing the same fate…

But nothing was broken, each scale in its place with no sign of falling out.

Snap-crack.

She looked up, discovering that the noise was from a ceiling light flicking for the last time.

She let out a breath of relief and fixed her puffed up feathers, her vision drifting to the floor below before going back to work.

After another hour, the body was done—yet it was not time to rest, she had one last part to complete.

The face of the Dust Devil.

She looked down at the pile of monstrous heads and masks under her. Prototypes she had made, spanning from yesterday to long before this performance’s conception. All of them unique, taking inspiration from not just Melli’s tales, but of all the recounts she had heard.

Some took the form of a traditional monster, given tooth and maw. Others abstract, nightmarish depictions that played on the fact there was no true face to the Dust Devil—And therein laid the problem.

How do you give a disaster, a face? Even Melli couldn’t do that, and when he tried, it always came out different than before—sharing only a few traits.

But, on the eve of the festival and motivated by deadline and her aching head, she had made her choice. She had chosen a face fit for the Dust Devil.

She secured the body of her costume to a set of hooks, then looked to her right, where she had hung the head. It was shadowed, the light over it burnt out. She gently cupped her hands around it, looking into its piercing yellow eyes. As she brought it closer, the light revealed its rotten-yellow fangs made of palm tree wood.

She held it there for a moment, before unhooking it and placing it in her lap. Examining its two-way split maw, netting wrapped between each split to emulate strands of dry drool.

With a quiet yawn, she stretched, ready to face the next hours of work—

Thud-crash-clank, something had fallen behind her.

She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see a kite that had fallen and broke—It was just Free.

He had fallen into the room after trying to open the door while carrying a bunch of tools and scrap.

Sal secured the head, then jumped down and extended her hand to Free, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah—yeah,” Free took Sal’s hand and got up, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Sal said cheerfully. “Why are you here so late?”

Free started picking up what he dropped, “Just wanted to do a check-up on the raido—rather not chance it fizzling out.”

“Hmm,” Sal helped him clean up, “Do you mind if I help you carry this stuff over?”

“Don’t see why not,” Free shrugged.

They walked over to the radio and placed Free’s stuff down on the floor.

“Thanks again.”

“No problem, again,” Sal flew back up into the rafters and continued her work.

Free sat down and plugged a clunky diagnostic device into the radio. He booted up the device, a pale green light emitting from its small dusty screen, then took out his notepad and flipped through a few pages.

“By the way, what is that radio for?” Sal asked.

“It’s to contact Foxx’s guardian,” Free answered.

“Foxx’s guardian?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought…” Sal looked down at Free, “I thought you two were his guardians?”

“Naw,” Free tapped the screen, it was still buffering. “We found him alone on a planet not far from here—he couldn’t remember how he got there, or really anything besides his name.”

“Oh,” she went back to work, “Foxx has amnesia?”

“I don’t know exactly what it is—could be amnesia or a formatting error,” Free sighed. “It doesn’t seem permanent though, so that’s a relief.”

“His memories are coming back?”

“Kind of. It’s been a few days since he remembered something—hopefully that’s not a sign of it getting worse.” Free looked solemn, “Hopefully.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Do you know a doctor or mechanic specialized in Alien life willing to work for free?”

“No, sorry.”

“It’s cool, didn’t count on it.”

Sal’s eyes went back to her work, “Sorry I made you all work for an outlet.”

Sal’s attention went back to her work, “Sorry I made you all work for an outlet.”

“And a microwave, don’t forget,” Free remarked. “Again—it’s cool, I should’ve mentioned it earlier. Not really one to sit around waiting all day either how.”

Beep, the buffering was done, and the screen slowly loaded in. On it was information such as max distance reached and signal strength. Nothing looked out of order, so, Free clicked a button to compile the data and approximate when the signal pulse would become perpetual. The device went back to buffering.

Free laid down onto his back, placing the device on his chest and letting out a yawn.

“…What happens if Foxx’s guardian doesn’t show up?” Sal asked.

“Best case, they pick up the signal a little later than expected and intercept us while we’re traveling. Worst case, we get to Hornnhealm, a planet a little far from here, get the Thing-Mi-Find—and find Foxx’s home ourselves with what details he remembers.”

Sal stopped working, “Thing-Mi-Find?”

“Navigational Abstract tech—it can pinpoint any planet and guide you to it, as long as you have a few geographical features you can tell it. Or a species description, I think that works too? It’s one of a kind, so not a device with a lot of documentation on it.”

“Is that what it’s really called?”

“I know, right?!” Free sprung up.

Sal chuckled then went back to work, “Not the name I would give a one-of-a-kind treasure. It should be, The Galaxy’s Eye! Or The Last Will of Captain Starfinder!”

“Now those are names worthy of a brilliant invention.”

“Thank you,” Sal bowed her head.

Free laid back down. “But yeah, me and Frost have been hunting for it ever since we met, part of the reason we travel together. Only got a good lead recently though, on the same planet we met Foxx actually—lucky break. I don’t know about Frost, but I was starting to think it didn’t exist.”

“It does sound too good to be true. How can it know every planet? And better yet, how can it store all that? A map of Reef Coal takes up almost all the storage on my phone, can’t imagine how many MBs a planet map takes up.”

“Beats me—for now. But that’s space for you. There’s everything and anything out there.”

“Hmm.”

Beep, the device was done. It said that the signal pulse will become perpetual in only a few more hours. That’s exactly what Free wanted to see, and with his work done, he could have left now. But instead, he stood up and leaned against the wall, fiddling with the device to look busy, “Why’s this festival important?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Everyone’s breaking their backs to make it happen, so I’m curious.”

Sal slowly brushed her talons through her hair, “Sink or sail.”

“Brings money into the town?”

“It’s one of the last things that does. If we break below even this year… Well…” Her hands stopped, then she shrugged, before going back to work, “Then I guess we’ll figure something else out.”

Free stopped fiddling with the device, “And if you don’t?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Sal repeated. “Lilipass has gone through worse.”

“Right—I guess. But why is that your job?”

“Hmm?”

“Look, I’m not telling you how to live your life—I’m not that type,” Free looked to the side. “But, if the town’s dying—just leave it and start anew. If you gotta work like this, then it’s not worth it, you know?”

Sal looked at her hands, at the kites strung about, at the place Lav would sit and read every day, and finally, at Free, then spoke softly, “I owe the ones who came before me. They all sacrificed so much, just so I could be here.”

Free placed down the device and looked out a window. There was a bush with ruby red flowers outside. “You don’t owe anyone anything for being alive, Sal. Nobody does.”

…

“…When you passed through Reef Coal, did you notice the plants?” Sal asked.

“Hard not too, shiny plants.”

“That’s because they’re fake.”

“Figured.”

“You have an eye for that?”

“Naw—I just knew it when I saw the plants here,” Free said fast. “Anyway, why is that?”

Sal sighed, “It was cheaper and faster than growing back all the real ones. Tourists don’t know the difference unless you tell them. And appearance is all that matters to city council. ‘Fancy plants means fancy money,’ Albo once told me.”

“I can get why you guys didn’t go down that route—that kind of thing messes up a place in the long run.”

“Yup. Oh, and the water sculptures at North Cliff, those are fake as well. They use projectors instead of hiring aqua artisans—people good at…” With a flick of her finger, Sal took water from a bottle and shaped it into a shaky blob that looked vaguely like a whale, “…This.” She dispelled the whale, moving the water back into the bottle.

Sal continued, “I can’t blame them. Everyone had to do what they needed to, although, they’re still cheapskates for doing it.”

“Not gonna argue with that—But why are you telling me?”

“I want to tell you a story.”

Free placed the device down then put his hands in his pockets, “Sure.”

“Before the Dust Devil, Lilipass was known for cultivating plants that were as strong as steel, soft as silk, and as vibrant as seashells,” Sal hung the costume head on a hook. “Most weren’t grown near the township—which was the part of Old Lilipass that New Lilipass came from, if you didn’t know.”

“I know the gist of it, Foxx told me about it.”

“Melli must have told him,” she chuckled. “Back to the story. They had two options: One, send some people over to Old Lilipass to recover the plants before they rot, and quickly make places to grow them here. Or two, go down the path Reef Coal did.”

“The second option is the easier one.”

“You have no idea. Even Melli at the time considered it. It was better than having to see everything that was left behind.”

Sal’s tone reminded Free of the memorial.

“So, everyone came together and held a vote. As you can see, preserving the life of Lilipass won out in the end.”

After a pause, Sal continued on, “From what Melli says about it, the work wasn’t easy. And what made it worse was that people started forgetting what the town used to look like. What the life they were trying to rebuild was like. Yelling at each other, debating if it was worth the effort as the town’s funds dried up. So, two decades after the last, another vote was called.”

Sal sighed, “But, right before it—Melli, and the rest of Lilipass’ art and performance old guard, announced that they were hosting a festival.”

“Guessing it’s the same one as the one tomorrow—I mean, today?” Free asked.

“It’s already past twelve?”

“I think so. I don’t bother syncing with local clocks, so I go by sun or moon.”

“Huh,” Sal unhooked the costume head and started working on it again. “Yes, it’s the same one. I was a teen when it happened.”

Sal’s tone cheered up, “It had everything—Feasts of fruits and vegetables prepared beautifully a hundred different ways, some dishes even had fish. A luxury then and still for the most part, today. Every hour there was a magic show with a specular and unique routine—this was also many of my generation’s first introduction to what magic could do beyond helping with the dishes. And, my favorite part, the kites! Melli gave them out to whoever wanted one, and they were made the traditional way, with ferns and lily pads—like what I’m doing now!”

Sal coughed and lowered her voice, “All made from what New Lilipass could give. It was a celebration of the work the town had done. Sure, maybe the restoration of New Lilipass wasn’t close to completion—even now, we aren’t. But it showed everyone that their hard work paid off. It reminded them of what made Lilipass, well, Lilipass.” Even with her voice tired and weak, she spoke that last part with pride.

Sal looked down and kicked her feet, “It also gave me… hope.”

Free looked up at Sal.

“Before the festival, I didn’t feel like I ‘lived’ here—if that makes sense.”

Free glanced back at the flowers outside. “Yeah, I get it. Lilipass was just the place you existed in, not your home or something you cared about.”

Sal looked at Free, “Did you experience something like that too?”

“No—No, I haven’t.” Free looked away from the flowers, “I’ve just met a lot who have, that’s all.”

“Oh…” Sal went back to work, “It’s still comforting to know I’m not the only one.”

“No, you’re not.”

…

“I’m curious, where do you come from?”

Free scoffed, “I don’t come from anywhere.”

“Now that’s a lie, everything comes from something,” Sal said with a lighthearted tone. “It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me if it brings up bad—”

“You’re looking at the exception—Free, the Self-made Machine.” He spoke in a self-asserting tone, “I got no strings, no home, no Creator—just me.”

“…What about your guys’ van? That’s a home.”

“That’s different—we just got similar goals, that’s all. Once we get Foxx to his home, I’m using the Thing-Mi-Find to find paradise, and Frost can do whatever they want with it afterwards.”

“Paradise?”

“The only home I’ll settle for—perfect climate, cool RM, good neighbors, affordable gas, no conflict, no pawn shops—paradise.”

Sal looked at Free with concern, “A perfect planet… are you sure that exists?”

“It has too, space has everything and anything—It’s out there. I just have to find it, then keep on flying, never looking back—not like I’d need or want to.”

“I guess so,” Sal looked back at her work, “I’ll be honest, that sounds impossible to me. But I guess my dream sounds impossible to you.”

Free packed up his tools and scrap and headed to the door.

“I hope you find where you’re meant to be, Free.”

Free stopped midway through opening the door, “I hope your home becomes how you see it.”

“Good night.”

“Night.”

Free left, leaving Sal to work deep into the twilight.