Book 28: The Eden Conference

Chapter 4 | New Eden

July 11, 2022 - 5:44pm

E.C. Campus, Eden City, New Eden

Kuro’s eyes snapped open when the savory smell of someone’s cooking wafted into his room. While everyone else scrambled to the grocery store, he marched to his room and collapsed onto its soft twin bed.

He straightened his hair, and washed his face with his room’s sink before he rushed out of his spacious single room. It was, like Soji’s, at the end of the hallway, so as he quietly made his way downstairs, he overheard two hushed voices arguing.

“She’s your cousin! Why would you do that?”

“She hurt you…I was getting back at her. For you…”

“No, she outsmarted me. I don’t need avenging. And I definitely don’t need you pretending your family’s pelea with that girl isn’t the real reason you went after Monika.”

“But you had no problem going after that bloom kid when my grandmother sent you,” Niko replied.

“And I changed my stance when I finally saw him. He’s just a boy. I only wish you and Angelo could see it the same way. But— nevermind.”

“Say it.”

“I said never mind. It’s not— just leave it alone!”

“Esme, say it, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? You really are used to getting whatever you want…you’d threaten me because I don’t want to say something? Grow up!”

“Esme…”

Kuro had heard enough. He became all too aware of the weight of his steps as he crept past that door. Maybe it would be inconspicuous to walk normally. After much breath-holding and tiptoeing, the boy made it downstairs.

“Ah, the prince arrives,” Dione commented, sipping on a juicebox. Monika sat on a stool at the island separating the kitchen from the rest of the lounge. Soji stopped buzzing around the smoky kitchen for a moment and grinned.

“Come, come,” Penny appeared behind him, and pushed him into the lounge, “we’ve been waiting for you.”

“For what?”

“You fought an Elder! How do you feel? We have to know!” Soji asked. The other competitors, soon to be his classmates, all stopped their conversations to listen in.

“It was alright, I guess.” The room erupted into jeers.

“I told you he’d say that,” Soji laughed, “Pay up!” Israel, a short boy wearing a black medical mask, and Anish, a large Indian boy, both threw crumpled bills at him. Everyone else followed suit.

“We all bet on how you’d answer that question. Closest guess gets paid,” Monika explained.

“And of course, I knew what you’d say, word for word.” Soji turned back to the stove, flipping something delicious on a huge pan.

“Burgers, Soji? For these miscreants?” Kuro matched the lighthearted mood of the room, noticing that several people nursed familiar brown bottles.

“Who art thou calling a miscreant, villain?” Israel slurred.

“Don’t mind him…he took one sip and has been talking like that since,” Soji replied.

“So are the rumors true, then?” Monika asked, “Soji’s burgers are the best?”

“The best?” Kuro feigned offense, “That’s such an understatement, it’s an insult. Once you try one of his burgers, you’ll never be able to bite into anyone else’s. They’re the perfect blend of meat, mushrooms, cheese, spices, pepper, garlic, ketchup, caramelized onions, squeezed between two buttery, lightly toasted buns. If I hadn’t been born, one could say that Soji’s burgers are the supreme creation!”

Mouths watered at his description. Soji rolled his eyes at Kuro’s dramatics. This was the version of his friend he knew; the cautious steps and somber demeanor of maestro society didn’t suit him.

“In the month that I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you so impassioned, are you sure you haven’t had a drink?” Monika laughed. It was only then that he noticed her holding a cup of pale yellow liquid.

“Wait, you’re eighteen?” He asked.

“Are you not? I turned eighteen on January 15th!” Her eyes widened.

“I’m November 24th, same as Soji.”

“OMG, you’re a babyyyyy!” She laughed. Kuro rolled his eyes.

“Don’t do this,” he groaned. Penny handed him a juicebox.

“You two and Dione are the only minors here,” she teased.

“Whatever,” Soji muttered. He put a tray full of burgers in the oven, and shook up the basket of fries sizzling on the stove. Quips would have to wait for the completion of his culinary magnum opus.

“Don’t lump me in with those two,” Dione said, “I’ve been a maestro for way longer than either of them. They’re my sons!” The room erupted into laughter. Alex Fischer, seated cozily in the corner of the room, looked up from the lamplit pages of Arthur Slade’s Jolted. He caught Dione’s eye, prompting an explanation of careful gesturing and silent mouthing. The boy, too, chuckled.

Kuro sighed.

“I can’t even be upset, she’s not wrong.”

“You know, you guys adapted pretty well to the maestro world. It’s only been a month, right?” Penny asked.

Not even. Both boys, the novices of maestro society, paused at the realization at how little time had passed. Or, more accurately, how much had happened in such a short timeframe. For the past month, it was as if each week brought about a new trial.

Soji shook his head and continued on in the kitchen; he didn’t need to dwell on how different his life was now, or he’d end up remembering he was an orphan. An enemy of the Institute. The desire of several murderers. Truly cursed.

“I thought it was longer,” Kuro said, “training for the Orchestra felt like a lifetime.”

A light bell dispersed the onsetting melancholy. Soji’s burgers were ready. The boy plated them like a seasoned professional. The main dish was placed carefully on the side, and made into an island by a salty sea of crinkle-cut fries. One by one, he handed a plate to the horde of tipsy teenagers.

“Before you begin,” he asked them, “Anish, I noticed you were the one putting vegetarian options in the cart when we went shopping earlier, so, voila. As for the rest of you, what you are about to bite into, will change your lives. With this, I will no longer be ‘bloom boy’, or even Soji. You will refer to me as Chef. Enjoy.” The boy bowed, the denouement to his dramatic speech and the night’s efforts in the kitchen.

His applause was a chorus of crunches, chased by a wave of chewing. And then, the sounds of bliss. Soji smiled smugly at the onslaught of praise, surprise, and voracious devouring that ensued; the true reward for his work. He noticed Israel drunkenly fumble with his medical mask so he could take a bite, but something in the timid boy switched. His body became rigid, combative, as he dropped the burger on the floor.

“Did you get this good at cooking when you roasted your parents alive?” Israel’s voice was raspier, deeper, as he taunted Soji. Everyone in the room turned in horror. Kuro’s hands wandered to where the hilt of his machete should’ve been, and Monika’s atma slithered onto the floor towards the disparager. Even Soji’s fists clenched. Esme appeared at the lounge’s doorway suddenly.

“You better watch your mouth, cabrón,” she marched slowly, deliberately, into the kitchen. Her toned build emanated a menacing strength that slowed Israel’s reinforcements going up.

“That boy,” she gestured at Soji, “is too good a soul to even be here. He is compassionate, brave, and by the looks of your dinners, kind hearted. So what got into you, that you thought it’s okay to insult the boy after he made you food?” She towered over Israel.

“Same thing that’s about to get into you,” the small boy spat. Strings of his atma solidified and darkened into metal as they wound into the shape of a hand with the index finger grazing Esme’s temple. The girl didn’t flinch, and the two stared each other down. Tension and silence were pitted against one another in a challenge to determine who would break first. The former was miasmic, and the other deafening.

Seconds cosplayed minutes, and minutes paraded around like hours before Soji’s black rope bandages shot past Israel and wrapped around the sinuous, metallic hand floating next to Esme. He pulled it, and the boy’s attention, towards himself. With Israel distracted, the Gitana didn’t need atma to pick him up by his shirt, and throw him over the couch behind her. The wind was knocked out of him when he stood up, gasping. His atma started to unravel when a familiar white snake fell from wooden beams running along the ceiling.

The beast’s weight swelled significantly as it tightened around him, until he was immobile. Even reinforced, he could do naught against the crushing constriction of the albino boa. Defeated, he grinned at the crowd of his classmates to save face.

“What’s your problem man, we were fine a minute ago?” Monika yelled.

“Shit, you’re still fine now,” Israel winked. Her fists sparked.

“Wait!” Soji said. He walked out of the kitchen to pick up the medical mask on the floor, and approached Israel.

“Ah, shit. You figured me out. See you next ti—” The moment the mask was re-equipped, Israel passed out drunk.

“How did you know to do that?” Monika asked.

“Just a feeling,” Soji shrugged, “You want a burger?” The girl was taken aback by how quickly and casually the situation was resolved. Then again, this was the same kid who, new to the world of maestros, ran in to save her from Victor instead of running away. She was starting to get a good idea of who he was. He didn’t even wait for her answer as he unwrapped a burger covered in foil. It was still fresh.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” she blurted.

“Of course. I was so scared I’d miss. I only got these things yesterday,” he smiled. She gracefully accepted her plate, before doing a light jog to grab a beer from the kitchen’s dark silver fridge.

“Agh! These freshmen!”

“That too. But I meant with Victor. I think I might’ve died that day, if not for you,” she laughed sheepishly.

“Why am I so nervous?”

“Well, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn’t have been there in the first place,” Soji countered with a sigh. He invited a novel wave of dark thoughts about his predicament. How many people would continue to come after him? How many would die in the process? How many by his hand?

“Does it matter, if I can get to Daisy?”

“Don’t put that on yourself. You’ll end up joining all those people who want you punished for the sin of being alive. But that’s not a sin at all,” Esme drained the first of the two bottles she brought out, “Also this burger is fuckin—sorry — freaking amazing!” Soji laughed. This girl seemed much less like the monolith he’s subconsciously painted maestros as, and so much more…human.

“Alright, as much as we all love sentimental hoo-ha, did she just say that you fought Victor? Like, the Victor? Like the Orchestra Incident of 2020 Victor?” Dione interrupted. Soji and Esme cleared their throats.

“Yeah, we fought…I’m sorry, does this guy not have a last name or something? Like usually, when someone’s notorious, you usually call them by their full name or their last name, like OJ Simpson, or Donald Trump or—”

“Buhari,” Kuro snickered.

“Yeah, or Buhari! But it’s all Victor this, Victor that!”

“I don’t think he does. None that my teachers ever mentioned, anyway.” Dione said. By now, the room’s attention was scattered once more. Kuro, Monika, and Dione gathered around Soji and Esme.

“You’re right,” Esme nodded, “he doesn’t. He was adopted by Elder Vera. And as a Muslim, she couldn’t give him her last name. He told me that when she found him, he didn’t have any name. So he chose one that fit how he saw himself, even then.” She took another swig.

“To him, he is, in every sense of the word, the one and only Victor.”

“So you know him? Personally?”

“Me, Angelo, Isadora and Alex, all attended the same academy as him. We were all friends until…the Orchestra. That’s how we ended up here, taking the entrance exam again,” Esme’s voice wavered. Just what exactly was the Orchestra Incident that made even this resilient girl tremble?

She regaled them with how Soji fought Victor and bought her and Angelo time to escape. She voiced her regret at leaving him behind, but after losing Isadora in an instant, was hesitant to risk losing more. By the time she finished, the lounge was quieter, emptier. Dione nodded off, resting her head on a table. Her snake, Naga, coiled up next to her.

“Well, I’m pretty tired too, so I’m gonna take Dione upstairs,” Monika yawned, “Come on Kuro, carry the snake!”

“Why do I have to do it?” He groaned, but obeyed immediately.

“Because I said so,” He reluctantly picked up the stirring creature and jogged after Monika, leaving behind Esme and Soji, who sighed at the mountain of dishes before him.

“I could just throw it all out…Tamara would buy us new ones right?”

“Come on,” the girl coaxed, “we don’t leave plates overnight.”

“I know,” Soji grumbled. This much was obvious, having been raised in a Nigerian household, but the tumultuous nature of the last few weeks had been sparing him— and Kuro— the trivial pain of such menial tasks.

“It’s just been a while.” He ran the tap.

“I’m sure. But, te lavas en los días que comes.” Soji just stared at her blankly as she showered the plates in viscous green soap.

“I barely speak my own language, and Spanish was not in my curriculum.”

Esme chuckled.

“You lived in your home country for how long? Sixteen years? But you don’t speak the language? I’m gonna love teasing you. You shouldn’t get comfortable only knowing how to speak English, you’ll turn pale!”

Soji thought back to his blackened fingers and arms.

“Unlikely…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he began scrubbing, “you’re speaking English too. And! I’m seventeen!”

“Oh diablos,” she hiccuped, “I sound like my mother.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Very,” she took the sponge from Soji, and turned the tap to his sink, “I grew up in a Catholic household, in a small town. Southern Spain. Cazalla de la Sierra, it’s called. My mother, she was a zealot; everything good came from God and men of God. Everything bad was of El Diablo, of non-believers. Coincidentally, the ‘bad things’ were just the things she didn’t like; smartphones, bikinis, and the gays.”

“I think we might be siblings,” the boy joked, earning a smile from Esme.

“Of course, that meant that when she caught me kissing my friend, Andrea, beatings and prayers made up most of my meals for the next week. Ah, what a woman!”

“Is that why you joined the M.I.I.?”

“No…from around ten, I wondered why there were these creatures that only I could see. Sometimes they were colorful, and sometimes they were wretched little things that skittered from corner to corner.”

“Blooms…you awakened at ten?”

“Yep. And then I began to wonder why I mostly saw these blooms at church. So one day, when curiosity defeated fear, I followed them as they wandered about. It was after my weekly ‘pray-the-gay-away’ session. That was when I found out why those things, born from sinful acts, gather around churches.” Esme’s eyes peered into the past, misty with sadness.

“I’m sorry,” Soji croaked. There was no need for detail.

“It wasn’t me. It was Andrea. We were twelve then. I don’t quite remember what happened next, but the last I heard, they’re still praying he wakes up. So to answer your question, I joined the Institute to punish sinners. Blooms, to me, are secondary. After all, they only seek to destroy the one that created them.”

“I really am a bloom, then.”

“How’d you end up here? I’m guessing you didn’t exactly get recruited through a senior’s field trip…”

“I didn’t. Aside from those field trips, the M.I.I. has hundreds of maestros roaming smaller towns and poorer cities looking for potential recruits. Vera said when she found me, I was covered in blood, but nobody could get close to me without slipping. Apparently all she did was extend a hand and I followed. I like to think it’s because I sensed she was an atma user. She fed, clothed, and enrolled me into an academy, although she was far from my mentor. That’s where I met her son, Victor.”

“Another sinner…”

“Another sinner,” she repeated. Their efforts with the dishes slowly reduced a mountain into a molehill.

“Is that what made you become a Saint?”

Esme paused for a moment.

“How do you— no, of course you know what that is with a guardian like Tamara Cain.”

“What do you mean? Does everyone know her?”

“Of course! As a Cain, she has access to all sorts of information, Instruments, and resources. And as Tamara, she’s simply the strongest maestro alive,” she explained. Soji’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. The strongest? It was clear from the volume of her atma, how she fought those attackers, and even casually sending Elder Hedeon away, that she was strong. But the pinnacle of strength?

“Damn,” he whispered.

“Yeah. You’re a lucky kid…I’m not a Saint, though. I’m training to be one.”

“So how come you have an Aria?”

“I learned early on that I had a very low atma output, and even lower reserves. So, I built up my physical strength, learned about every Instrument I could get my hands on, and trained with all sorts of weapons. After the Orchestra Incident, I was nominated for Sainthood. And anyone that’s nominated has a trial period using an Aria of their choice.”

“How long does that take?”

“You’re incredibly curious, aren’t you?”

“It’s a whole new world, remember?”

“Fair enough. There’s no set time for the trials. After a while, Elder Vera will take me on the next expedition into the Garden and assess how I perform with Calypso’s Net. Hopefully, I can bring out its full potential before then.”

“I see,” Soji said. He wanted to ask her what the Orchestra Incident was, but thought better of it. It was a grim matter, no doubt, and it’d be unfair to ask her to relive it. So, he continued to rinse in silence.

“You’re so quiet now. There’s nothing else you want to know?” She raised an eyebrow, scrubbing the last of the plates.

“You’ve shared a lot, which is surprising. I don’t want to pry…”

“Oh, now you don’t want to pry,” Esme laughed, “Ask away. Por favor.”

Soji hesitated.

“What…what is the Orchestra Incident?”

“I’m surprised Tamara didn’t tell you,” she said. Her voice was stiff.

“Anyway…the Orchestra that year was held in Lagos, on our campus. We were all waiting for it to begin, everyone was all over the place. Then, I don’t know what happened, but Victor snapped. He’d always stood out because of the white hair, everyone knew he was an anomaly. That he was gifted. He was prideful, but sweet. Then he started killing people. You know how he moves: too fast for anyone to stop. So he just kept killing, and killing. He took the bottom half of Angelo’s face, and deafened Alex. Finally, when he came for me, Elder Vera appeared. She had tears in her eyes when she rushed at him. She meant to decapitate him, to make it painless, but he disappeared in a cloud of black mist.”

“So that’s…” Soji thought back to Angelo’s marred face.

“I can still remember the screams, and his laughter. It was…genuine. Like the burning bodies of our classmates told the funniest jokes. And the smell,” Esme choked on the fading odor of burger beef.

“I feel you on that one. I’m sorry,” the boy said. Each time he raised his body temperature, he caught a whiff of his burning home. The girl nodded with a grimace.

“When it was over, only Isa, Alex, Angelo and myself were left. For some reason, Yasu Rose took pity on us. She let us live in the Rose estate here in New Eden, gave us access to incredible training facilities, and let us work as provisional maestros. She came to like my performance in these missions, and nominated me for Sainthood.”

“And that’s where you met Niko…”

“Eres vidente?” she sniffled with a smile, “how could you possibly know that?”

“I’m good at reading people. Especially when it comes to romance,” Soji smiled. Satisfied with their work in the kitchen, he grabbed one of the last remaining burgers he’d left wrapped in foil.

“Really? Is that one of your bloom powers?”

The boy thought for a moment.

“Not at all. I’ve just always had a sense of what people want. Or who…”

“Well, you’re right. Niko and I met after the Incident. We…clicked, almost immediately,” Esme’s face reddened with memories of Niko’s rosy lips against hers.

“But?”

“This kid is good,” the girl mused.

“But…I’m not opening up about my relationship to a seventeen year old kid I just met!”

“Just met!? You’ve known I exist for at least a month. And besides, who else are you gonna open up to?”

“Not you! Not yet, anyway. You think I’ll let you figure me out in one night? Why don’t you tell me something? Maybe I’ll change my mind.”

The boy sighed.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “ask away.”

“What’s up with the scars on your forehead? They’re perfect x’s…” she pointed at the two scars above the end of each eyebrow, ignoring the one she knew came from his fight against Angelo. She’d have to ask him why he was so obsessed with Soji. Did he really have that much hatred for blooms that there was no room for nuance?

“I don’t know…my parents said I was born like this. What a night that must’ve been,” he laughed.

“That is weird. I thought that was a bloom thing. Especially since when you transformed that time to save me, you had a horn come out of that exact spot…”

Soji’s fingers grazed his forehead.

“Huh…”

“Second question,” she cut through his train of thought, “Why did you join the M.I.I.?”

“That’s your question?”

It should’ve been fairly obvious to any maestro why he’d seek refuge among the Institute’s ranks.

“I mean, aside from not being hunted by the Institute…what do you want to accomplish?”

“Ah. I…” Soji paused, uncertain, “...I want to find the woman that did this to me and then I’m gonna k-kill her.”

“Kill her? And then what?”

“Then nothing. I don’t care what happens after that.”

“Hm,” Esme shrugged.

“What’s ‘hm’?”

“You’d really be satisfied with your life being a revenge story?”

“Why not? Everybody’s avenging something…”

“In a way…we all carry with us past grievances, injustices. But just because these emotions influence our actions, doesn’t mean it defines our entire lives.”

“Like you can talk…aren’t you in the Institute because you want to punish the type of people that hurt your friend?”

“That’s where you misunderstand. By your logic, yes, I am avenging people like Andrea. But I am not a vengeful person, and that situation didn't make me one. I seek justice for those people, not revenge.”

“My justice is revenge,” Soji replied.

Esme sighed. Perhaps there’d be no changing his views today. Maestro society had given him no reason to think any differently.

“He’s probably already decided on living a short life…”

“At least…that’s something you’re willing to die for,” she stood from their shared couch, and made her way towards the staircase just outside the lounge.

“Why don’t you live for it, instead?” she finished, leaving the boy alone.