Bob gave a grim nod. The two brothers sat in silence for a moment. Both of them knew that they had the same thing on their minds. It had been the only thing on their minds since the incident.
“It’s eerie,” Bob finally said, his voice sounding almost disconnected as he stared off into space, “to think that it’s already been four days.”
“Yeah,” Ben replied, glancing at the ground. “It’s even more eerie that the two of us are still here and talking to each other, like normal, while … while Bill is …”
Ben couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He had finally managed to stop the waves of nauseating depression over the past few days, and he wasn’t going to allow them to return. They were still fighting a war, and grief had no place in a war. Ben choked back his sob, letting it out as a raspy sigh. Bob was about to open his mouth to respond when, all of a sudden, there was an earsplitting crash.
Both brothers leaped to their feet, bow and sword drawn, ready to defend themselves as they whipped around to face the source of the sound. What they saw was the door they had just exited through knocked down, window broken and a brick lying on the ground not too far inside the room. With no door, there was no barrier to protect the two brothers from the raging, hateful taunts from the basin of the cave below them.
Ben let out a growl of fury, which was drowned out by the jumbled chants of protest from outside the door. “This is ridiculous!” he yelled to his brother. “What are they complaining about? Yeah, sure their food supply got cut. Well, you know what? At least they’re safe from the Noctem Alliance for now! At least they’re not dead!”
Bob sighed in disgust. “And I suppose you want to go out there and tell them that?”
Ben was about to respond when, without warning, the Mechanist hurdled into the room through an entrance in the back wall, pickaxe drawn.
“What’s going on?” he demanded. “I thought I heard a …”
Suddenly, the Mechanist realized that Ben and Bob were in the room, and he stopped in midsentence. He hadn’t spoken to the brothers, except through messengers, since Bill’s death.
“Well,” the Mechanist said, recovering and attempting to regain his composure. “Is everything all right out here? I thought that I heard a crash.”
“Yeah, someone threw a brick through our door,” replied Ben forebodingly, gesturing to the wooden door and brick lying in the empty doorframe, through which the boisterous anger of the crowd was still raging. The Mechanist’s eyes widened at the sight.
“It would seem,” Bob continued for his brother, giving a look to the Mechanist, “that the citizens aren’t very happy with us right now. Since we’ve been holed up in this bunker, they haven’t gotten any good news at all. The only thing that we’ve done for them is cut off their food supply.”
“Well, what do they expect?” the Mechanist asked, baffled. “We’re doing everything that we can for the citizens. What else do they want us to—”
“Oh, open your eyes!” Ben yelled, the anger that he had barely been holding back since the Mechanist’s arrival surging forward. “These people have had their entire lives uprooted! The Noctem Alliance has taken over their city, stolen their homes, and forced them to lock themselves down in this stupid mine! Some of them have friends who are still up there, and the Noctem Alliance is probably abusing them, or worse! They need to hear good news!”
“But … I …,” the Mechanist sputtered. “What do you expect … We don’t have anything good to tell them …”
“Well, that’s your job!” bellowed Ben, marching up to the Mechanist and now yelling directly into his face. “Like it or not, when you volunteered to take over Stan’s job, you took on the responsibility of keeping your people happy! And since the beginning, you’ve stayed holed up in the castle, drinking yourself into a stupor, and running the country without caring what your people think of you.
“Even now, when we’re all trapped down here, do you have the nerve to talk to your citizens face to face? No! You just locked yourself in your room, feeling sorry for yourself, and had me and Bob take the fall for you! We’ve been trying as hard as we can to keep the people of Element City from hating us. What have you done to make the situation better? Nothing!”
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the ongoing, enraged roar of the crowd, during which the Mechanist stared into Ben’s furious eyes, unable to speak. Ben glared back, his anger slowly fading, and grief starting to well up in his face.
“My brother died to save you,” Ben spat bitterly. “And so far, I don’t think that you’re worth it. You’d better prove me wrong.”
And with that, Ben shoved the Mechanist away from him and, with tears streaming down his face, he marched out of the room.
For a moment, Bob and the Mechanist just stood there. The Mechanist stared blankly at where Ben had just stood. After a moment, Bob turned around and had Ivanhoe run out the back door and down the hall after Ben, leaving the Mechanist standing alone in the midst of the barren stone room.
Ever since he had woken up and realized that Bill had sacrificed his life so that he could live, the Mechanist had been totally distraught. After he had joined Stan’s militia all those months ago, the Mechanist had sworn off SloPo. Yet, in the stresses of running the entire country, the Mechanist hadn’t been able to resist the relaxing allure of the potion. If he had had the power to resist, to keep off the potion, Bill would still be alive.
And the more he thought about it, the Mechanist realized, in horror, that Ben was totally right. He hadn’t done anything since they had entered the mines, too wrapped up in his own self-loathing, only ordering cuts to the food rations when supplies began to run low. He had abandoned his police chiefs and he had abandoned his country. And now the Mechanist knew what had to be done.
Taking a deep breath, the Mechanist walked out the doorway and onto the stone-block balcony, overlooking the basin of the giant cave, which was swamped with players. The mob of players, which was beginning to become slightly calmer, erupted yet again at the sight of the Mechanist. Now, however, the anger emanating from the crowd was far more potent. This was the first appearance the Mechanist had made before his people since before the construction of the bunker. All the hatred at the overwork and ruthless discipline that the Mechanist had ordered came surging forward.
“Excuse me!” the Mechanist yelled, raising his hand, struggling to be heard over the tumult of the masses. “I have something I would like to say to you all.”
The noise did not die down. Rather, another brick flew up out of the crowd, straight towards the Mechanist. Acting out of instinct, the Mechanist whipped his pickaxe from his inventory and shattered the brick in midair. Shocked and appalled, he looked down into the crowd and saw soldiers surging into the throng to apprehend the one who had thrown the brick. He forced himself to take another deep breath.
“Anyway,” the Mechanist continued, trying as hard as he could to ignore the struggle between the attacking player and the soldiers going on below him, “I would like to personally thank all of you for your continuing cooperation. Being holed up in this cave is difficult for everybody, but it is necessary to—”
“It’s not hard for you!” a single voice rang out above the noise. “I bet you’ve been on SloPo every minute of every day since the war started!”
A fresh round of fury burst forth from the crowd at this accusation. The words stung the Mechanist, and he gave a shudder of disappointment in himself before responding.
“I fully admit that since the departure of my fellow councilmen, I have not always acted as I ought to. I have made many mistakes, and for that, I offer you my sincerest apologies. However, in the present situation—”
“You’re nothing but a dictator!” the voice cut back in, from a player somewhere in the centre of the crowd who the Mechanist couldn’t