Sanitatem

George was broken, although to the average outsider he may have seemed his same pompous self, he was far from. His two recent encounters with the Spotless not only ravaged his mind but had left him barely alive. 

After witnessing the beating of the old shovelsmith he found out some days later that he had died from his wounds. George had never been one to care for many others out of his own goodwill, he knew this very well but wasn’t particularly ashamed of it. 

Part of him believed that he could freely act how he did, and others would treat him just as his mother did, unfortunately, he wasn’t that stupid. 

George knew the way others tended to view him; he was so stuck in the way he did things that changing how he acted entirely felt like a façade, even if it was closer to the truth.

Helena had even visited him multiple times since their encounter with the brutal man, and yet he couldn’t help but notice her bruised face and deformed teeth. 

She limped with every second step and most people believed that she’d be limping for the rest of her life. George knew that her injuries were entirely the fault of him, yet he wasn’t sorry for it.

George had been filled with a new passion for unification; he wanted the Scorchers to band together against their common enemy. Or humanise the Spotless so that they would appreciate and care for Scorcher lives as though they were more than just cattle.

Resting alone in his bed George was kept with nothing but these thoughts biting throughout his mind, just when he’d try to supress them a wave of emotion would wash over him. 

Drowning in his own self-hate George saw all four walls of the world closing around him, his beloved and mother could do little to help the broken man.

Oddly enough the person who he treasured most when they walked through the door was Eugo. George knew that Eugo had always seen through him, seen past the overtly pompous layer and although he hated it, George mainly continued it out of spite.

“How’re you going, George?”

“Pretty good you coal obsessed shovel.”

“…How are you George.”

“I’m pretty shit honestly.”

“Heh, funnily enough, I was too until recently, I started shovelsmithing and I’m in the middle of making my first shovel, hopefully, it goes well.”

“With your coordination, I’d be surprised if you create something that even vaguely resembles a shovel.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right, I found out I don’t have much to lose though.”

“What do you mean by that.” Said George finally taking an interest.

“Well, I think I discovered recently that if there’s a change you want to make then just go ahead and do it. The consequences of doing nothing always seem worse than those of failure.”

“Ok, and you’re saying I should do something?”

“I’m saying you should get up out of your King-sized bed and try to make some change that you’d be happy with, there’s always something in this dome that you can work towards. For me, it was shovelsmithing, for you… I dunno it might be failing miserably at flirting with Helena.”

“Shut up Bastard!”

“Whatever it ends up being, I wish you luck with it. Anyway, if you’ll excuse me I gotta get back to bashing some iron.”

Wanting to have some time to think, but also wanting to get out of his claustrophobic room, George took a walk.

§

He took some time to admire the dome, its steel plating climbing up into the rising steam bubble overhead. The air felt somehow fresher than usual, no longer burning his throat but instead flowing gently down his back. 

George felt sanctuary in the peace and wishing for it to last he began walking to the edge of the dome.

Time passed and his feet began to slowly prick at the thought of taking another step, almost like a small needle poked him each time he rested his foot. Each leg slowly failed to walk the simplest of paths, and his vision faded to a blur. 

But as he walked the houses disappeared, replaced with a wide-open expanse, the boy stepped out into the desert to find another boy. He had white hair, and clothes with bright blue eyes and from afar, George almost thought he was an angel; though he knew Spotless were far from.

Something was off about the boy, he presented almost a sort of mystery about him, let alone the fact that he wasn’t in the castle. Most young Spotless never left, possibly out of fear or just ignorance so his presence was to be clear very confusing to George.

“Who are you?” The Spotless boy’s voice rang out across the distance.

“What does it look like.”

“Well, I’d say you aren’t someone I know.”

“I’d say your someone I wouldn’t get along with.” Replied the indifferent George.

“Maybe so… Would you happen to have seen anyone on your way here?”

“No. Why?”

“I’m waiting for someone but looking at the time I doubt he’s coming today.”

“Well I came here for some peace, so if you could either leave or tell me a place where I can sleep that would be magnificent.”

“Heh, well I’m not leaving so I recommend maybe the crater over there.” Snarked the Spotless.

Silent, George wandered off towards the so-called crater, and nearing up towards it he recognised its origin. His mother had told him some days ago that an explosion had erupted on the outskirts of the dome. 

Several died in the blast but as a whole, the community had seen it as irrelevant; though not all. George found a small group of Scorchers buzzing their way around the crater, armed with shovels and praying for the dead. After watching for some time the group noticed him.

“Who’re you?”

“I was just passing by.”

“I recognise him from somewhere.” Said, one man.

“Pretty recently as well.” Added a woman.

“He was the one who was…” They stopped there.

“I’m fine now thanks for asking, at least I’m not laying here with all those other people.” Said George bluntly.

“Well, would you like to join us then?”

“Join you with what.”

“Most people here lost someone in the blast or are angry at the Spotless.”

George took some time to think, bidding farewell to his savage Scorchers. He couldn’t understand the need to fight, peace is surely a far better path to freedom. 

Especially since both would most likely come with death, George felt that perhaps a group to promote this would be more successful. Using all three of his brain cells George formulated a plan to just maybe organise a group of peaceful protests.

To finish off his fairly eventful day he wanted to visit someone, he had figured out what change he wanted to make in the dome. Although it certainly wouldn’t be an easy one, he also doubted that his mother would let him go ahead with it. 

It would require what he saw as maximum secrecy to achieve his plan, although part of him held out that Eugo would be willing to help.

If not, then he was currently visiting the one other person he could possibly ask… Mainly as it was the only other person George knew. Due to his slightly questionable practices, there was a very high chance he knew exactly where his target was at this time during the day.

§

He found Helena hanging upside down off the roof of a hit in the town centre. She didn’t seem to have noticed him so he hoped he might be able to get close enough to talk to her, this time not covered head to toe in ash.

“Guh.” George had tried to say hello but somehow only a grunt was heard.

“…Oh, hi George.” The look of distaste on Helena’s face stared daggers into George’s weak heart. It also didn’t help with the conversation.

“Ugg.” George found himself wanting to run into the castle and request death by horribly painful crucifixion

Oof

George was decked by the girl within less than ten seconds of conversation, possibly a world record in the dome.

“What the fuck was that for!”

“You’re speaking, now aren’t you?” Helena gave off a wry smile that continued to sting at George’s heart.

“I guess…”

“Well speak up, what do you want.”

“I ummmm wanted to ask if you’d help me with something.”

“No. I won’t be punching you again.”

Ignoring the comment George explained how he wanted to start a small group of Scorchers to organise peaceful relations with the Spotless. The main focus included reducing the number of deaths throughout the dome as much as possible.

“What can we offer them? It’s not like anyone I know can beat a Spotless with a gun… let alone myself.”

“I don’t know yet… but.”

“Your goals seem pretty admirable for a snob George, but I don’t see anyone achieving this any time soon.”

Before George could argue, Helena had sprinted off into the distance. A fairly sure sign of her opinion of the situation. Annoyed but unable to make an actual change George walked defeated back home, maybe Eugo wasn’t so right after all.