act27side

Yep. I kept some real pretty ones—Look, these are some mighty fine obsidians, don't you think?

They're lovely indeed.

Now, would you please tell me more about your illegal obsidian mining operation?

Enis! You set me up, didn't you?! When did you fall so low?

Uh, this isn't exactly a set up now, is it? A cop with a really loud mouth taught me this... Sorry, Uncle Jackie. This is for your own good. You shouldn't put your health on the line.

We just have a couple questions we want to ask you. Work with us, will you?

That's everything...

Are you gonna lock us up?

Who were you planning to sell the obsidian to?

Is it Pelipper?

No... Pelipper stopped buying from us a long time ago, and he's a man of his word. He hasn't bought a single pebble. No matter how high quality the obsidian, he doesn't so much as take a single glance.

Hmph... You got all this out of us, but what good is it going to do?

That bastard Herman's always doing whatever he wants without a thought to the consequences. First, he made us all stop mining obsidian. Then, he said the volcano was going to erupt. It's been almost two years since we moved here, and it hasn't so much as let out a puff of smoke!

Maybe he should've taken a look at where our money was coming from just a couple years ago...

But doesn't Siesta have really lax Infected policies...?

That doesn't mean they've got jobs for us! If all the out-of-work miners became drivers, they could probably tow the city a couple kilometers.

Besides, I'm already infected. What else can I do? Once MountainDash Logistics moves into the city, we'll have even more people without work. Now the Mayor's talking about tearing the shopping district down. Why tear it down, even? Just to chase us out of here?

Maybe... Maybe the Mayor will come up with a policy to help you guys...

Forget it. Haven't you heard? They're going to chase us Infected out. The Columbians are here.

Where did you hear that?

We all know how the Columbians treat the Infected. If something does end up happening, we might as well just head out into the wastes ourselves and start pioneering.

That shell-brain Herman... That darned shell-brain!

Ugh... *cough*! *cough*!

What's wrong? Are you sick?

No, no. Uh, I...

Uh, Dr. Ceylon, they're also...

The Mayor must be having a tough time, too. Don't get mad over this...

No, I'm not mad.

I thought this was just going to be warning a few men to stop illegal mining, but if the Columbians are here, that changes everything...

This is Siesta's own problem.

Sir, how many are still mining obsidian?

I'll come out and say it. I'm not going to turn you in to the police.

Enis said it just now. I'm a doctor. I know it's not realistic to just stop your obsidian work. What I want to do is help you solve this problem... Please trust me.

So, won't you tell me?

What do you mean, you're going to help us?

Uh, who are you...? And why?

Hold on... You look familiar...

Hah, you finally figured out, huh? You watched the Obsidian Festival broadcasts, right? Remember the lady at the closing ceremonies with Mayor Herman?

Who? No, no, no. I'm saying you look a lot like a woman I once met...

It was a long time ago, and we worked at the obsidian mines together.

There was a scholar from Victoria. She was pregnant, but she went to the mines every day, for environmental surveys or whatever.

She didn't know that much about mining, but she was real kind to us...

Oh, now I remember. Her name was... Bora... No, Barbara.

The creature, with the miner's lamp on its back, trots along in short spurts as it gazes toward Old Siesta's beach.

There, Byrd is sitting on the sand, plucking away at her strings spontaneously.

Do you come here often?

Hmm, you can still see Old Siesta here...

Well, music is pleasing to the ear, and the sound of the waves, carried on the wind, is good accompaniment for the guitar.

I didn't expect you to ask me that, though... So you're actually willing to talk.

Huh? Isn't this what one would normally do...?

Yeah... I guess it is. maybe I'm just a bit too narrow-minded.

If everything can talk to everything else, then music might be the best language there is. Even if you don't speak the same tongue, music can help you convey your truest thoughts—Not bad. This feels like a new inspiration.

Byrd starts strumming a slow, relaxed song. The waves rise and fall along to her rhythm.

You two are the first to hear this piece.

'You two?' Oh... Are you including this fowlbeast here? Maybe the grass?

Hm? No.

Don't we have another listener here?

Byrd points at the steps next to them which, logically, should be empty.

Weren't you talking to it the whole time?

Miss Byrd... You can see it?

The creature with a miner's lamp on its back stands on the beach and gazes blankly at the silhouette of Old Siesta in the distance. It hesitantly tries to step into the seawater, but after a few plods, it walks back onto land.

Its takes its hoofsteps rhythmically, as though it is trying to match the music's beat, though it also looks like it isn't and is just trying to maintain its own rhythm.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump...

Yeah, I've been able to see it since the day I came to Siesta.

Just the one?

Are there others?

Too bad... This is the only one I can see.

Byrd looks at the lamp on the creature's back and the hard hat and goggles on its head.

I wrote the miners of Old Siesta a song. Maybe it just happens to like things that have to do with ores?

I'll play the song again, just for it.

Byrd starts strumming again, while Adele brushes her dress's hem and sits down next to Byrd.

Come to think of it, even though there hasn't been a single song of mine that could represent my whole life, perhaps there's one or two that could give comfort to somebody out there...

...even if my audience is just a lone... Little Black Sheep?

But that's not so bad!

It stayed behind to listen to you play your guitar.

You said you could see more of them. Where are they?

They... They disappeared all of a sudden. I don't know where they went.

Do they eat road signs like this one?

I don't think so...

Hm, I have an idea.

Do you think this one eats road signs because... it's a stray sheep?

I still don't get it. Why would a lady like you choose to spend your days in a hole like this? Aren't you afraid of the Infected?

Are the Infected not but normal people saddled with misfortune?

Just like this child of mine, yet unborn. Maybe she'll become Infected herself, or remain a lucky one who just makes friends with them.

Either way, I wish for her to live in a city full of love and goodness.

If continuing to mine here will harm the environment, shouldn't we stop?

For now, this city can only rely on nature's bounty. Even so, our descendants will definitely carve out a home with their own hands.

I hope then that you and I, and all of them—that all of us will find our own place in Siesta.

The elderly unhindered by age, the sickly unburdened by despair, that is the Siesta of my dreams... That is the Siesta I wish for my child to see.

Could that really ever happen?

Well, let's start with the mines!

Little Black Sheep, why are you all alone? Do you know where the rest went?

Also, you keep eating these old signposts and addresses on letters. Is it because you're lost?

You... can you understand me...?

The fluffy creature remains silent as it sniffs about, picking the next signpost to be devoured.

Did you get lost when Siesta moved?

Or is your home on the undeveloped plate instead of the mines?

The fluffy creature paws the ground urgently as Adele stands, silently looking at it.

Where does it want to go?

Hesitantly, it approaches Adele, pressing its head to Adele's chest as if listening to her heartbeat.