A Quiet Day

Part 1: Foundation

Dusk awoke to the soft hum of the reactor. It was a pleasant sound, the kind that if you listened to for too long, you'd likely fall asleep. She lay still for a moment, letting the gentle vibrations sift through her. Her mind, as always, began to drift. She enjoyed floating alongside it, an adventure of thoughts only she could experience. She listened. 

A cool whisper, faint and soft. Not a voice, but something more akin to intuition: her best ideas, her cleverest insights and most intriguing concepts. She relished in the beauty of it. Thought could be a most terrifying tool, and yet, she couldn't see it as anything other than beautiful. So she lay there. Allowing her mind to wander—losing sense of time, space, reality and eventually even herself. She'd done so since a young age, something to distract herself from the mundanity. 

Life in Thermoa was slow, people spent their days mindlessly puttering about, no destination in sight. Some built unneeded houses, others told perplexing stories, most spent their days in prayer. This had turned Thermoa into somewhat of a ghost town: an excess of houses, built out of people's boredom. A stagnant population, where romance was seldom, and most people dedicated their lives to the reactor. It was a dull lifestyle, with little worry.

With a peaceful life like this, Dusk could spend her time thinking in bed for eternity, but even she would get bored of that in time. She rose, slipping into her usual worn clothes. Their simple design the result of a culture dedicated to practicality. Her daily routine was neither hurried nor entirely methodical, resting firmly between order and languor. She preferred it that way, moving through her morning at her own pace. 

Dusk’s quaint living quarters were largely sparse, built out of necessity rather than design. A blue hue bounced across the walls, stemming from reactor burning over her balcony below. The walls grey, a mix of stone and metal; absent of any decorations. Furniture was similarly bare, little more than the staple mattress and thin fibre blanket found in most Thermoa homes. The one anomaly found in Dusk's home were Pearl's countless sculptures, proudly displayed throughout. Sadly she wouldn't have time to visit Pearl today, as she had other plans; Quill had something to show her.

§

The streets were quiet, people occasionally crawling from their homes for prayer or food. Life in Thermoa was a life without work, and for many, this was a curse. While most managed to find some meaning in art or prayer, others surrendered themselves to boredom. They droned around like lifeless husks, aimlessly moving through their lives; simply existing. Dusk couldn't bare such a life, so instead, she had always filled hers with curiosity. Often exploring Thermoa's upper reaches, where not even a soul was left whispering.

Passage through the cavern meant overcoming a maze of steel and stone, winding tunnels that connected the many sections of Thermoa’s sprawling network. The paths weaved in and out of light. Alternating between claustrophobic darkness, the soft glow of dim street lights and a view of the Thermoa's life-giving reactor; shining its blue fire on the towers of metal stacked above. She journeyed down through the structure, admiring the warm blue beams occasionally pulsing through the cracks in the metal walls. It cast a soft luminescence over her path, an oddly soothing presence. It was something Dusk couldn’t quite understand, but she felt its warmth, an energy that seemed both alive and watchful. Almost as though the light was guiding her, she followed along.

§

Dusk reached her destination, a decrepit workshop, cluttered with all manner of useful tools, unique gadgets and nonsensical contraptions. Materials lay scattered across the floor, with half-built amalgamations and sketch papers filling chaotic space. Quill looked up, grinning as he noticed her arrival. His dark curly hair danced around with him as he frantically hunted through the mess. His earthy brown eyes sported a wild look, a mixture of excitement and exhaustion that Dusk had come to associate with his periodic obsessions.

“You’re just in time,” he said, gesturing her over with an animated wave. “I think it's finally complete.”

Dusk stepped closer, eyeing the strange object in his hands. It looked like an oversized hammer, but with a trigger attached to the handle, and a small mechanism she couldn’t immediately identify. It sported intricate designs all along the rim, and what looked like a rocket on one end of the head. At the very least, its stupidly large size seemed impractical for virtually any use. Quill steadily lifted the mechanical monstrosity, wincing as he explained its function in-between gasping breaths:

“This,” he said, holding it up proudly, “is my explosive hammer... I’ve managed to rig it..... so that when you pull the trigger..... it shoots a blast of energy out from one side......." He collapsed for a second. Deciding to put down the source of his exhaustion. "The blast gives a hefty bit of extra power when you swing it.” He demonstrated, pulling the trigger:

A soft whirring filled the air, as the hammer's head gleamed with pent-up energy. Within seconds Quill was flying through the air. A burst of plasma had blasted out from one end of the hammer, smashing through the back wall of his workshop, leaving him face-down motionless on the floor.

Dusk looked on in mix of shock and exasperation, it wasn't the first time she'd seen such a show. "You need help getting up?"

"I'm fine..." replied a muffled voice.

"Quite the dangerous invention today." 

"You're kidding, I've shown you way worse" he seemed almost insulted as peeled himself off the floor.

"Well, either way, try not to destroy any homes when testing that thing."

"I'll try, but no promises."

Dusk wandered over to the creation, fascinated by his invention. "So how long did this one take?" looking back to make sure Quill was still alive. "Only a couple of days, as per usual. Hasn't been too long since you last visited after all." She couldn't help but marvel his ideas, and the speed of which he conceived them, even if the ideas technically weren't his. 

Quill had obtained a Blessing sometime in his childhood, giving him access to the knowledge and memories of someone else’s brilliance. "Brief flashes of glorious inspiration" was how Quill had always described it. Paired with his natural talent in bringing these creations to life, he had a nearly endless supply of new inventions. Not everyone had a Blessing though. Dusk had, at times, envied her lack thereof, wondering how different her thoughts could be if she had something like it. Although her cool whisper of thoughts seemed content for now.

Quill dragged the hammer back into the workshop and began making a few adjustments, muttering to himself. Dusk watched him, leaning up against her usual spot in the corner of the room; quietly lost in thought as he tinkered. She analysed the precision of his work. The way he harnessed his focus to breed complexity, making sense of a seemingly random pile of scrap and junk. His thin wiry body moved in perfect sequence, a dance that had been practiced countless times; seen by the scars and burns present all over his body. Time wandered by as she watched, she observed the fire, the steel and the cool air. Relishing in the peace.

§

"Any plans for your next creation?" She inquired.

"Not too sure yet, still thinking through a few different options. I've thought about finally finishing my grappling hook... although I don't want another dislocated shoulder. I could also try finally making a railgun... not sure that could work though." He paused between his intermittent sentences, quickly derailing into a quiet muttering.

"Well be sure to let me know when next to drop by." Dusk smiled, she always looked forward to seeing the surprises Quill had in store for her.

"I assume you'll be going to visit Pearl sometime soon then?" 

"Yeah, I'll probably pay her a visit tomorrow," she quickly replied. Knowing exactly what question was bound to follow.

"So... you telling her anytime soon?" Quill asked, his eyes brightening for a different reason this time.

"I'll get around to it, eventually, someday, soon...ish." Dusk tiptoed around the topic. She'd liked Pearl for some time now, but hadn't exactly been making any major progress.

"Well, good luck either way!" Quill grinned once again, giving her and optimistic thumbs up. 
Dusk quickly scurried out of the workshop, futilely attempting to hide her embarrassment.

§

By the time Dusk had left the workshop, she had started to get pretty hungry. She stopped by the nearest food depot, where a few others were lingering, waiting their turn. The food rations were as they always were—simple, bland and just enough. According to the scientists they never went stale either and could last for months without compromise. She received her portion and silently munched through the food, slipping into the same routine as everyone around her. No one spoke; there was nothing to say that hadn’t been said a thousand times before. Not to mention, you always seemed to see a different set of people.

She took a moment to look around. People came and went, each moving to their own rhythm, each focused on their small portion of Thermoa’s world; and, in truth, she was grateful for it. The routine and solitude, the small comforts of her life, suited her just fine. Even the food remained constant: a dry grey brick and a can of organic soup, lovingly produced by metal hands. 

Some leftover rations in hand, she made her way back to her quarters, the paths still quiet and mostly empty. She could feel the faint warmth of the reactor’s glow, a far-off comfort that always accompanied her on her journey home, and with each step, her mind settled into the familiarity of her own thoughts. She decided tomorrow would be a perfect day for exploration, she might even be able to find a small trinket for Pearl. She smiled at the thought.

Back in her quarters, she sat in the silence, her mind a slow, drifting current, just as she liked it. Another day, steady as always. And she found peace in that monotony, her last thought before sleep being of the comforting, unwavering stillness that was her life in Thermoa.