Nina: I'm happy that you let us show you around, Ms. Windsong.
Nina: We haven't had many other visitors here since the critters started coming near the town.
Avgust: I met a blind lady once. She always smiles, and she has a pretty typewriter. Vila said she's a "writer."
Avgust: The writer has been to many towns, and she fills up her papers with so much ink, just like I do! So, I made a drawing for her, too.
Nina: And she promised us that she will tell more people to come visit Rayashki!
Pyotr: Will people from other places like it here?
Images bounce around in Avgust's mind, just out of grasp.
Windsong: What about your other visitors?
Avgust: I remember they had green and red rectangular paper and some shiny cookies in their hands.
Pyotr: They tried to trade us their silly paper so they could take our cans and things. They never wanted to work with their own hands.
Pyotr: And Rayashki doesn't like lazybones!
On this, the children's heads bob in agreement.
Windsong: ...
Nina: Ms. Windsong, Pyotr got all of us together last night, and we read through our "how to be a good tour guide" guide. So we can guide you!
Pyotr: Ms. Windsong is just a bit strange. She's not lazy!
The child hides his face, but the blush on his cheeks reaches up to his ears.
Avgust: This time, I want borscht, blinchik, and oladyi!
Pasono: Ahem, let's not hurry on to our rewards, Avgust. We haven't helped Ms. Windsong yet.
Avgust: Oh, right.
Figures, large and small, pass deftly through the once tightly-sealed iron door,
arriving at the only factory left, whose lock has not yet rusted over.
Knut: Good to see you at our little factory, Ms. Windsong!
Windsong: Hello, sir.
Knut: The kids have told me that you want to learn more about the history of Rayashki and the strange things that have happened in the past, yes?
Windsong: I do. But would that be going against any rules?
Knut: Most certainly not, miss. We're not some stubborn old goats that dismiss people for asking questions.
He strides forward.
Knut: In fact, I'm relieved—it will be much easier to talk to you than that bitter fellow from Zeno.
Knut: He came to the factory with his armed squad, took a quick look around, and left even without a polite farewell.
Knut: Like a whiff of cold breeze, that one.
Knut: These old, out-dated machines and hundreds of workers, young and old, each one a mouth to be fed.
Knut: They are certainly not a pretty sight to the eyes of that greedy hyena. Hmph!
Windsong: A pathetic number-crunching cretin.
The whispered insult creeps up to her listener's ear.
Knut: Hahahaha! I'm starting to like you, miss! We would have much to talk about, perhaps over a drink, if only I didn't have to get on with my work!
A curious look around goes beyond the hard-laboring workers.
Tightly sealed doors and a thick layer of dust on aging machinery paint a less than optimistic picture.
Knut: You can see what's going on here, right?
Knut: Don't feel sorry for us. Zeno might no longer need this ore processing factory, but we can make use of what's left of it.
Knut: Once we get rid of the critters, we can arrange for other minerals or materials to be shipped to Rayashki for processing!
He rubs his hands together, leaning against the shell of a rusted machine.
Knut: It is a shame we've wasted so much of our good years, never preparing for these bad times.
Knut: If those strange little monsters weren't there, we might be able to return to our mines. Ah, then, we'd really be able to turn things around.
Windsong: About these mining sites ...
Her notebook flutters rapidly, its pages turning as fast as a rolling flame.
Windsong: Mr. Knut, have you ever found anything there? Other than runium ore?
Knut: Hmm.
Knut: Never! I know those sites like the back of my own hand. I've never seen any other minerals of any worth there.
The rugged man seems to catch her disappointment, and far quicker than she'd expect.
Knut: But give it some time, miss. Well, give me some time.
Knut: Just a few months ago, back when Zeno was still keen to work with us and not just ship us away, I remember they found some strange little pebbles.
Knut: Dark pebbles that were stuck in the claws of those little monsters.
Knut: Zeno soon sent out some troops and caught all the monsters. They didn't leave a single one behind.
Windsong: ...!
Knut: We never heard about those pebbles again, nor have we found more of them in the mines.
Knut: And you know the rest. Now we've exhausted the runium, and more and more strange-looking critters have appeared. So it's not safe to go back there. We left them completely deserted.
Windsong: Please take a look at this, Mr. Knut.
Windsong sketches fervently as Knut lumbers towards her with a curious eye.
Knut: No, no, their claws were thicker than a polar bear's.
Knut: Ah! But these are closer!
Knut: These monsters had much larger teeth. They almost looked like old mining picks.
Knut: And no ears!
Windsong: Could they be some kind of Hoituk?
Knut: Yes! This one looks just like the creatures!
Windsong: If that's true, then it may be another "big fish" that has come here to feed.
Knut: It is true! You can ask around. Many of the other workers have seen it.
Windsong: So, the color of a Hoituk is bright yellow, and that matches with these bright yellow lines I've traced here on the map.
Windsong: They are burrowing animals, often living as deep as 50 meters underground. So if they were here, that must mean ...
Windsong: That there must be some undiscovered resource here.
The corners of her mouth curl as she mutters the words.
Knut: Talk of undiscovered resources would be music to our ears, miss.
Windsong: Ahem. I don't want to get your hopes up. It's still too early to draw any conclusions.
Knut: Hahaha! Yet, the corner of your mouth is suggesting the opposite!
Windsong: I must be cautious before confirming there really is a new resource!
Windsong: Nonetheless, it's a silver lining. Thank you, Mr. Knut.
Knut: Think nothing of it, miss! Maybe one day, you and your research will return the favor.
Windsong: I will, if I can.
She reaches out a hand, and he shakes it heartily with warm strength.
Windsong: I hope your work here can be resumed shortly.
Knut: Don't worry about us! We will find a way to drive those critters away and start production once again.
Knut: We have all our brothers and sisters with us, and these machines still run perfectly.
Knut: As long as we continue to put in our best effort, there is no reason why things won't get better.
He pats the trembling, coughing machines with affection, like embracing an old friend.
Windsong: Is this exceptionally positive spirit common with the people here?
Knut: Well, can't blame us for that! There are very few places in the world like Rayashki.
Knut: Here, everyone earns their food and their rest through working hard together. Then, outside of work—ice hockey, learning courses, even music lessons—not everyone is as lucky as us.
Knut: That is why we won't let Rayashki die.
Knut's voice rises as if singing.
Knut: With busy hands and open hearts, Rayashki will live on.
Knut: It will grow stronger, glowing as brightly as these furnaces!
Something brilliant indeed burns within those furnaces.
A product greater than any ore or slag, emerging from the melding of purpose and sweat.
Windsong: ...
The pen that stopped stirs once again.
But this time, she seems to be sketching out something far harder to picture.
Windsong: I have to say, Rayashki is truly a curious place.
Windsong mutters to herself.
Windsong: It has a spirit which I've never found elsewhere.
Windsong: Yes. Perhaps that's what was missing from the study of ley lines in the past.
*gurgle*
An odd sound interrupts her contemplation.
The sunflower pats against the boy's belly.
Avgust: Ms. Windsong, would you like to meet Mr. Patrik?
The friendly bear Knut nods with an understanding smile.
Knut: It's time to go to the canteen, boys and girls. Eat well, and you'll grow strong!
Knut: Patrik knows how to feed you well. He's the best cook in town.
Knut: But I would suggest you be careful with that one, if you don't want to get stuck with his endless chatter all night.
Windsong: I have never been to the canteen. I stayed out of that area in my previous "visits" to avoid unwanted trouble.
Avgust: Heh-heh! Forward, to Comrade Blinchik!
Knut: All the best, miss! I look forward to hearing good news from you.
Knut waves them off before settling back into his world of metal.
The churning and wheezing of machinery replacing words.
The canteen buzzes with the din of workers.
The children weave through the busy hall, leading Windsong by the hand.
Avgust: This is our canteen.
Avgust: We play hide-and-seek here when we're hungry.
Avgust: Comrades Stew and Potato Piroshki are always the easiest to find!
Avgust: They are not very clever at hiding!
Avgust: But Comrade Blinchik is very good at the game. He can only be found at dinners on Friday.
Windsong: ...
Nina: We have good food, like mashed potatoes, and boiled potatoes, and potato stew!
Nina: Mr. Patrik said a good cook can turn even simple ingredients into delicious food!
Nina casts a glance around her before she speaks softly.
Nina: The grown-ups are so kind to us. Sometimes they give us their cheese and salad, so they only have potatoes to eat.
Pyotr: Don't cry, Nina. Remember when you shared your Alenka with everyone?
Pyotr: When we grow up, it'll be our turn to help the grown-ups with their potatoes!
There is an awareness in them, a gravity few children possess at their age.
Thankfully, some do retain their blissful innocence.
Avgust: We also have the tin-hat festival, when they gave us metal hats with food in them!
Windsong: ...?
Pyotr: Avgust, it's called the Worker's Festival.
Pyotr: We have it every month. Everyone must sit in a circle in the canteen and sing songs, and Ms. Vila plays the accordion for us.
Pyotr: We each get a can with food in it. Sometimes it's tushonka, sometimes it's salad, sometimes sprats.
Avgust: Yes, and after the tin-hat festival, we would bury our tin-hats in the ground. Yellow ones, red ones, and white ones. Then tiny trees will come out from them next year!
Pyotr: I have told you many times! They are not tin seeds, and they don't grow into trees! They are just tin cans! We only bury them so they won't pollute the snow.
The subject of their debate flips a hidden switch in Windsong's mind. The revelation flicking into light.
Windsong: Piles of tin cans ... Food ...
She unfolds the ley energy map, pointing to the last blurred area of interwoven lines and traces.
Windsong: Those empty cans you mentioned—did you store them here?
Pasono: Oh, I know this place. That's where the adults dug a big hole; they put some things inside. It's covered up with rocks and ice now.
Nina: Yes, Pasono is right! That's where the grown-ups put all our old metal after they make them into little cubes!
Nina: Ms. Vila said it helps keep our town and the whole region clean.
Nina: Why, what's wrong with that place?
Windsong: ...!
Windsong: I'm thrilled! There must be lots of "big fish" left to be found around there!
Windsong: If I can write a report and provide a practical plan, maybe I can get Ze- ... I mean, I could request reinforcements!
She halts, swallowing back the unfriendly name.
Kids: Yay! School trip! School trip!
Windsong: This is no trip, children! I'm not going there for a hike! You must stay in town and be good. That goes for every one of you! Understood?
Her resolution fails before she even finishes.
The children's protests rise in a disordered chorus, drowning out all other surrounding sounds.
Only to be matched by the static fizz of an announcement.
Bertolt: Ahem!
Windsong clutches at a thin straw of salvation.
Windsong: Shh. Quiet, kids!
Bertolt: Attention please. Tomorrow, at 8 in the morning, we will be holding our final hearing.
Bertolt: In this meeting, we hope to finalize our next steps and answer any remaining questions. We look forward to seeing you there.
