A bird on the loose

A holographic screen projects behind the director lighting up to let us contemplate several diagrams representing Ōnomori, street views with passerby. Spheric drones dot in a regular pattern the city’s sky.

“Our final objective is to spread these drones above our city. These, of course, are not ordinary drones. Equipped with olfactory diffusers, what they will diffuse would be an artificial scent produced by our laboratories.”

     As he speaks, another diagram shows a closer image of one of the said drones, with translucent wings, similar to a dragonfly’s. I can’t help but imagine for a while what it would be like into a snowing sky, gigantic snowflakes lost among smaller ones dancing in the air.

“This scent will have soothing properties aiming to increase the wellness felt by the citizens. It also aims this way to prevent any occasional surge of hostility and avoid any negative contact between the passersby. And there’s where you come into play.” He stops for a second, taking the necessary time to scan the audience. “During the following weeks, our researchers will require your presence to test different variants of the scent so that they can adapt its composition. But, well, as for the details of the procedure, I let one of our distinguished researchers explain it better than I would.”

     Turning the floor back over to one of the men wrapped in white fabric, Marygold Leafeyorb remains at the back of the stage, maintaining this faint smile. I may have seen him only once before, I feel like it never leaves his face. A customary smile as steady as his professional demeanour.

     As I observe him, he feels my gaze and takes a glance at me. Realizing I should not scrutinize the director like that, I focus back to the meeting. The researchers tell us about the schedule of the tests, explaining that we should not go outside Amahara Corporation even when the testing period of the day is over because they are not sure so far of the potential side effects. Our security, as well as the citizens’ cannot be neglected.

     The first is going to occur after the lunch. For the time being, when the meeting finishes some leave the amphitheatre, other stay to chatter. Keeping an eye on the director, I wait for the right moment to approach him, but he soon finishes speaking with the researchers and heads to the door.

     I instantly stands up before standing still. What can I exactly do more than I did last time if I approach Mr. Leafeyorb? I am not used to having contact with people…

     As I am lost in conflicted thoughts, I don’t realize my cockatiel has followed my gaze…

     Wing flapping.

     The sound of the feathers swishing against the air draws my attention to the parrakeet flying away, already disappearing in the corridor. Slightly widening my golden eyes, I walk hastening the pace until reaching the door, long strands of white hair fluttering behind me.

     At the moment I turn in the corridor, I stop after a few steps.

“Where did he go?”

     No remaining sound. The feathery runaway is already out of sight…

“Is it your bird?”

     Upon hearing this voice, I turn and come face-to-face with Marygold Leafeyorb. I did not even notice I passed him as I left the meeting room.

     Answering with a nod, the director glances ahead of us.

“I’ve seen it going to the left. Maybe you need help to catch it back?”

     At his proposition, I raise my head to take a long look at him. I did not expect him to be willing to help me for such a trivial matter. But… having by my side someone who knows by heart the corridors of this grand building would be a valuable asset in this search mission.

     Hence I softly clench my fists, raising my hands until my chest level, making my opal bracelets rattle. I add a nod in reply.

“Then let’s find together this rebellious parrakeet.”

     Walking side by side, we begin our researches.

“What is its name?”

     His name..? A sound supposed to put a word upon his existence. Words are strong, they can hold so much meaning. A single one is enough to make someone unique. That is why they shouldn’t be used lightly. Though… I haven’t given him even one…

“Are you alright? There’s a hint of concern in your gaze.”

     Raising my gaze towards the director, I quickly give hint to some gestures to signify I am fine. Maybe it looks exaggerated, but I am not accustomed to people able to notice any changes in my expression.

     He laughs. It echoes through the corridor as the rustle of tree leaves. Unharmful, even appeasing. I suppose some sounds are pleasing to hear.

“Still, I didn’t expect you to have such an eccentric pet, Miss Andersen. You surprise me.”

     Stealing me from my thoughts, Mr. Leafeyorb’s remark makes me stop to face him, slightly tilting my head to the side.

“Why?”

“Well… Let’s say I rather imagine you enjoying a hot chocolate comfortably wrapped up in a blanket than running after a parrakeet.”

     While I can’t really deny his words, it gives me an odd feeling. Not because the comparison is disturbing, simply because it evokes me a souvenir.

     Raising a hand as I resume walking, I touch the rim of my crystal earrings, my voice then brushing the air as a caress.

“I suppose we’ll both wrap up in the same blanket when we’ll be married.”

     Oddly, I can’t hear the director’s footsteps anymore. Wondering why he doesn’t follow me, I turn my head to discover him frozen, his eyes wide opened.

     I question him with a glance. Is he alright? Did the sound of my voice startle him that much? He may not have expected to hear it out of a sudden. Or maybe the director is simply tired. In that case, we should quickly find my cockatiel, so he could get some rest.

     He coughs, his hand pressed into a fist against his mouth before he joins me, casting me a glance half-lecturing half-surprised.

“You know… Anyone may hear you, we’re in the corridors. You should mind your image.”

     Casting a glance at this mysterious man, I try to understand the meaning of his words. I can’t recall having done or said anything discreditable.

     I recall my parents standing side by side, looking though the window of our manor, contemplating the snowy landscape. They often did it hugging each other, while wrapped up in a blanket. That is what the director’s words made me remember and, honestly, I can’t see anything inglorious about it neither.

     It has been almost half an hour since we wonder through the corridors in search for a certain bird, when we hear a flapping of wings. Mr. Leafeyorb stretches an arm towards me so that I stand still for a while just like him.

     We listen for a moment before turning right at the next intersection. I can hear the feathers’ echo becoming louder as we get closer.

     Suddenly, I take sight of a colourful bird whizzing through the air. Making a step aside, I manage to avoid the projectile.

     Though… At the same moment I feel a pressure against my shoulder.

“…?”

     Turning my head, I realize I am pressed against the director’s side. Ahh… I have not been enough cautious about my surroundings. As I unseal my lips to utter an apology, I meet his gaze.

     His silvery eyes are attentively observing me. It is the first time I see him so close. His eyes… In more than one respect I find them similar to the moon. Not merely because of their tint. They also possess that puzzling ability to absorb someone in their contemplation, as if hoping it would allow to comprehend unsolved mysteries. And, like the silvery orb, they seem close yet remain unreachable.

“Here. You’re dreamy again, aren’t you?”

     As he turns to face me, making a step aside, he covers my shoulder with a hand and I awake from my daydream to take a look down at it.

“Ahh, excuse me.”

     Marygold Leafeyorb takes his hand off, thinking that it bothers me. Be that as it may, I catch his hand in between my fingers. I don’t want to give the director the wrong impression. So the only reasonable thing to do is to say my thoughts aloud I guess.

“Your hand…”

     Gently releasing his hand, I brush my fingers along his palm until my hand is flat against his.

“…it is large.”

     The director remains silent for a while as I curiously observe my hand against his. Like this, mine almost look like a child’s. Though I am not one anymore, I am not someone to be protected. Whatever people think of me, I will carry on my family’s role.

“Large enough to capture yours.”

     At the words he utters, Mr. Leafeyorb’s fingers slide between mine, pressing against the back of my hand. He gazes at me with a faint smile.