5.6

August thought it was funny how little he really knew about the world around him. He’d felt that dissonance before when first learning about how rope and twine were really made. Whole objects were categorised in his mind by their function, but upon further introspection, it was revealed that he knew basically nothing about them.

A furnace, in his mind, was simply a fire—hotter maybe, than most, and specialised for that purpose but still. What did the process for transforming metal actually look like? If he put them in the fire and they did manage to melt, the molten metal would be unrecoverable, mixed about in the coals and ash and unable to be picked up.

He had memories of massive steel vats, hung by chains and tipping molten metal down like a waterfall. August wasn’t sure where he’d seen that; movies perhaps, or even imagined via a description in a book. It made sense for there to be a container of some kind where the molten metal was held.

August severed another branch before moving on to the next one. Then what? Say he had some kind of container that could withstand the heat without falling apart; what was the next step? He couldn’t just tip the metal onto the ground, right?

“I need to make a mould of some kind,” August realised, bringing the [Flint Axe] down again.

Something to pour the metal into, and something that would hold the shape of an axe long enough for the metal to turn back into a solid form, however long something like that took. It seemed as if everything came back to containers. Something to contain the fire, something to hold the chains and spikes inside the furnace, something to pour the molten metal into afterwards.

“August?” Rittan said, approaching with Kalter. “Would you like some help?”

August glanced down at the four branches he’d managed to cut down, feeling insecure over how fast he could work in comparison to either of the Voithos.

“I guess I’m pretty slow compared to you two,” August sighed, handing the tool over. “Listen, I was thinking about how to melt those chains down; do either of you know anything about metalworking?”

“Next to nothing,” Rittan admitted, letting the previous comment slide.

“I’ve been inside several factories,” Kalter said. “I was never responsible for performing any of the actual work—the vast majority was automated, which isn’t much help to us now.”

Automated would mean that the materials they’d use to make it were far above anything they could source here on the Island. Maybe a furnace was too big of a step; what was the stopgap between where he was now and that? An oven? The blueprint would get him closer, surely, and give him more knowledge on what he could do to bridge the gap.

“Scratch that for now; we can work our way up to it.” August said, shaking his head, “What do you know about pottery?”

Rittan just scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“It’s made from clay and baked in an oven to hold its shape,” Kalter said, glancing away from the attention. “I knew someone who used to do it recreationally when they weren’t working—you had a job in common, Rittan.”

“Truly?” Rittan said, surprised. “I only knew of two of our kind who were in similar lines of work—which finger did your friend call home?”

“The 87th,” Kalter murmured, flaring the fingers of her hand.

“That high?” Rittan said, raising an eyebrow.

The topic had diverged, but it was interesting to hear them talk.

“Haiko was amongst the first wave of Voithos,” Kalter said, shaking her head. “I caused her a lot of trouble over the years; she was always trying to reign me in.”

“The first wave—she must have seen so very much,” Rittan said wistfully, adding the next branch to their pile. “August, perhaps we should summon her?”

Just like that, the atmosphere changed. Bringing another person here seemed like it could be the catalyst that set off the already volatile situation, and if he was being honest, he was a bit on edge. Kalter’s first instinct when she arrived here was to attempt to murder him, and he’d developed a healthy fear of something happening again.

“Is this the type of environment we want to bring your friend into?” August said in an attempt to divert them.

“I don’t think this is an environment that would appeal to anyone,” Kalter scoffed, thankfully in agreement.

“It’s far more tolerable than leaving her in Limbo, Kalter,” Rittan said empathetically, shooting down the argument. “August? We should be able to finish the new hut today; we’d have the space for one more.”

Kalter hummed at the comment, and August knew that he’d just lost the chance of diverting either of them from the topic. If Limbo was as bad as they’d indicated, then the idea that Kalter would leave her friend there was non-existent. August mustered up what courage he could and put a voice to his concerns.

“Last time I summoned someone, I was almost killed,” August said, trying to keep his voice light. “Try to keep that in mind.”

Rittan paused in his task, and the silence that followed his comment stretched onwards, leaving August regretting having voiced his concern at all.

“You try going from being trapped in the dark to having a Gaian standing over you,” Kalter said heatedly. “Then maybe you can talk to me about it.”

August flushed, anger rising up in him—he shouldn’t have said anything.

“I’m not a—” August managed before cutting himself off. “Fuck you.”

“Kalter,” Rittan sighed. “He wasn’t attacking you—”

August walked away, furious at himself for getting baited by such a stupid comment. It was worse because he knew what she’d meant by it. Humans and Gaians were functionally an identical species; her attacking him had made sense given her perspective and what had been done to her. August knew that, but having the whole situation thrown back in his face like that, being dragged under the Gaian umbrella, having their wrongdoings attributed to him—just because they looked like him.

“I hate this fucking place,” August mumbled under his breath.

August stared up at the too-large alien moons covering the sky before dropping his gaze to the shoreline. He watched as Neptune slid through the water, moving much faster in the shallows than he had on land. He looked ahead of the monster and spotted a small white rock sticking out of the water. Neptune crashed into it, sending water splashing about and sending the smaller [Mitikos] tumbling through the water before it fell below the waterline. The smaller monster retreating further into the water and out of sight, leaving Neptune to continue his journey through the water.

His anger at Kalter for being an unwavering prick aside, refusing to bring more Voithos to the Island, wasn’t going to get them anywhere good. It would only build resentment between him and the others—and he didn’t even want to say no either. Leaving people to endlessly suffer when he could save them at no real, lasting cost was both shitty and unreasonable.

Refusing to summon anyone wasn’t even a good move strategically—the more people they had, the more they could accomplish in a day, and even accounting for the rising cost of resource use per body, it was still probably a good thing. August touched a hand to his skin where Kalter had tried to put her fist through him.

“When did everything become so complicated?” August murmured.