Chapter Fifteen-LM-2
Over the years, the Foreigners and their whole “let’s take care of our planet” stance had begun to grate on those in the city.
Who cared about the state of wild hemp or the “stroke—don’t eat—a four-legged creature” campaign? Most in the city just wanted the Foreigners to shut up and make things—like their statues. In fact, those from the city would have happily run the Foreigners into the outlands, if it wasn’t for their statues and the discovery of the reflectors—a discovery stumbled onto by Loud Mouth’s granddaughter; LM-2.
LM-2 was a quiet teenager with a brilliant brain who had been assigned to babysit Manifesto the Great, a boy who loved to collect things.?From the time he could walk, he rummaged, hoarded, and recreated and soon found his way to the Foreigner’s Art Centre.
Manifesto the Great found comfort there; it was so much more fun than loitering around the library and its smelly books.?There was a sense of fluidity about the place, a respect for life, although a child of ten wouldn’t use such words. He could not resist returning again and again.? He liked the reading devices, the studios full of recycled materials, and the way men and women worked together, taking turns shouting—a place where women like the mother he loved seemed to lead a happier life.
By the time he was ten, it was his place of refuge from a father who scowled at him.? The Foreigners all embraced the next leader; they doted on him, ruffled his hair, laughed at his funny ways—all apart from LM-2. The last thing she wanted to do was babysit.? She took him on long walks, and Manifesto the Great collected to his heart’s content—plants, rocks, and shells, including the pearl reflector shell.
“These would be great for adjusting one’s own wig,” he said to LM-2.
She looked down at Manifesto the Great’s eager eyes and was on the verge of dismissing him when she caught sight of her distorted face reflected in the inside of the shell . . .?She lifted it.
“A reflector,” she said. “I see what you mean.”
Manifesto the Great looked at her.
“You could upcycle.”?She laughed.
“Bit more than upcycle—maybe reinvent.”?He jumped. “Can I watch?”
The Foreigners laughed at LM-2’s ideas of reflection, apart from Manifesto the Great.
“Get back to your babysitting walks,” they said.?LM-2 ignored them.
She knew she had stumbled onto something, and it wasn’t long before she and Manifesto the Great had bonded over the art of inventing.?Their first mirror was pocket-sized.? Manifesto the Great, desperate to impress his father, couldn’t wait to show him.? He slid the reflector into a box and presented it to his father across the breakfast table.
James the Strong opened the box with Aggie and the Librarian watching.? Manifesto the Great talked of how “LM-2 designed it” and how he was “allowed to watch and help.”? Aggie listened; a pang of jealousy stabbed her heart.
“Who’s this LM-2?” she snapped.
“Just a Foreigner,” he muttered.
James the Strong stared at his reflection with disappointment.?“This is my face?” he muttered.
He turned to Aggie. “You called me handsome.”
“You are,” she said.
He looked again. he thought.
“You get used to it,” said the Librarian.
James the Strong continued to stare.
“Looking like everyone else,” said the Librarian.
“Not sure I want to,” muttered James the Strong.
“You’ll be the first to have one,” said his son.
He waited for praise.?“You could practice your speeches with it.
”?James the Strong turned to his son. “And what’s wrong with my speeches?”
The reflectors weren’t exactly a hit with the Foreigners either. Turned out no one liked what they saw, and they cursed LM-2 for her stupid discovery.
“Here we are running out of materials to make their ridiculous statues,” snapped her father, a man nothing like Loud Mouth, “and what are you doing? Stripping the shores of shells and making stupid reflectors to remind us of how ugly we really are?”
LM-2 talked of a feeling in her bones that the reflectors would lead to something more. No one listened. Instead, she was ordered to accompany the rebels on their next “storming the meeting” mission, which LM-2 claimed was “a waste of time.”?Every man in the city wanted a statue. Having a statue gave a man hero status, made women more malleable—being owned by a hero was better than being owned by a mere man—and soon led to the laying of flowers at the feet of statues. There were even competitions, which led to flower-stripping and another thing for the Foreigners to complain about.
The Foreigners could not recycle fast enough to keep up with the city’s demands, and many saw a future of bleak landscapes and bugger-all plants.
“If they keep on with this flower-stripping, then what will the wasp-killers live off . . . and where will we be?” shouted LM-2’s father. “Overrun, dying like flies from their stings. We need to storm the meetings,” he said, “be heard.”
No one else had a better idea, so the Foreigners regularly stormed the readers’ meetings, demanding to be heard and having rights. Not much happened . . . they never made it past the door. The Librarian, with a “noted” sniff, shooed them away like flies, slamming the door in their faces.
LM’s father turned to LM-2. ?“You have spent time with the son,” he said. “Perhaps you can influence the father?”
thought LM-2. And she was about to say just that when she caught her father’s steely glare.? He was on the verge of swearing, bursting into one of his rants about the excessive use of trees without replacing.
“There’s more to you than reflections,” he said. “You have a persuasive power about you . . . you just need to harness it.” And before she could argue or ask him to explain, he left the room.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.