Aftermath: 40 - Until Our City Be Afire (2017)

Hermann believes himself to be prepared. Alas, he is not.

Chapter warnings: Realistic depictions of neurological, physical, and bureaucratic trauma. War. Grief. Death. Mental illness. Regular illness.

Text iteration: Witching hour.

Additional notes: None.

2017 (Forty – Until Our City Be Afire)

The bar is dark. Jewel-toned lights shift in sweeping patterns. The senior staff of the Shatterdome are all in attendance, most people are mildly to moderately drunk, karaoke is in progress, and they are, ridiculously, celebrating Mako Mori’s birthday. This seems like a set-up for complete disaster, but, somehow, Newton and Caitlin Lightcap have made it work. 

Hermann is convinced to attend by Ms. Mori herself, who extends him a personal invitation, appearing again to grace his doorframe a month after what Hermann is now calling the Reckoner Incident. It is a strange request, formally made, but he accepts in the spirit it is offered. Whether or not Newton put her up to it—the invitation is made in good faith. Odd as it seems, he feels he owes her. 

Newton has made a full recovery, but, if anything, his relationship with Caitlin Lightcap seems stronger than ever. One would think that after she nearly sent him to his death—but Newton doesn’t see it that way. It shouldn’t matter to Hermann. Lightcap is marrying Sergio D’Onofrio for god’s sake. Newton is not attracted to women. Hermann shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care. If he tells himself frequently enough, he hopes he’ll start believing it. Any day now. 

Currently? Dr. Lightcap is actively plying Dr. Geiszler with drinks and imploring him to sing. Hermann knows it’s what she likes most about him. That band he’d had, at MIT. It had not featured overmuch in his letters, but occasionally they had touched on music. Newton lacks a thorough grounding in theory, but he has a native talent, is a self-taught guitarist, and, of course, can sing. His mother, for god’s sake, still headlines at the Metropolitan Opera, in New York.

In the end, it is not Lightcap but Mako who persuades him.

Hermann happens, though complete coincidence, to be standing near Lightcap and Pentecost when it occurs. Newton and Mako sing a song with which Hermann is entirely unfamiliar. It’s a perfect choice. Something about a girl named Yoshimi, battling kaiju. When they are halfway into the first verse Lightcap is so overcome that she punches Stacker Pentecost in the arm hard enough to make him wince. She then presses one hand to her chest, one to her mouth.

Hermann believes himself to be prepared. Alas, he is not. 

The man’s singing voice is practiced, but not overly trained, which gives it a charming quality. His intonation is accurate, his timing perfect, and, occasionally, he chooses to harmonize with Ms. Mori to great effect. The song is whimsical and hopeful, but not without a hint of sadness. The green streaks in the man’s hair take on the colors of the roving lights, his ridiculous outfit does not look so out of place on a low stage, and he smiles, frequently, at Ms. Mori, who looks, for the first time Hermann can recall, genuinely happy.

Now that Hermann has heard him sing, there will be no forgetting. 

During a musical interlude, Newton crouches down, motions Ms. Mori in, and whispers to her. Her face lights up, intense excitement evident in her eyes. Newton hands her something. She leans in, asking a question. He nods, grinning at her mischievously. She turns around, her back is to the audience.

“Uh oh,” Lightcap says, smiling at Hermann.

Mako turns, hands held behind her. They resume singing, repeating the chorus. Then, Newton stands, continuing, taking the microphone finishing the chorus as Ms. Mori arches her back, extends both hands, and flings a shower of glitter into the air. It catches the light, falls slowly. There is a roar of general approbation. Mako stands at the edge of the stage, laughing. Even Marshal Pentecost smiles and moves forward to join Mako onstage for a rendition of Sweet Caroline. Newton vanishes somewhere into the crowd.

Hermann glances at Lightcap to find her watching him. “Hey,” she says, glitter in her hair, looking at Hermann with wide eyes, a sheen catching the light that looks suspiciously like tears. She motions him closer. Hermann leans in, and she puts a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll look out for him, Gottlieb, won’t you?”

He catches her eye, looks at her uncertainly.

When I’m dead, her face says.

Understanding passes between them. 

“You promise me,” she whispers, her lips close to his ear, her diction only slightly loosened by alcohol. 

He nods.

She nods back, and it is sealed.