Kevin awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside his dorm room window. He rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up, squinting at the sunlight that poured in. After brushing his teeth and changing his clothes, Kevin set out for breakfast, spotting Carmita asleep in a lobby chair as he left the dorm building.
Kevin made his way to the campus cafeteria he'd broken into the night prior. Except for the staff serving food, the large dining hall was empty.
First one here like always.
He grabbed a tray and was served scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast by a tired looking worker. He then sat down at a table and began to eat, staring out the window as he did. Outside, he could see the university slowly start to wake up. After finishing his meal as usual, Kevin headed to his Yankish lessons in the library.
As the lesson wrapped up, he asked Mr. Felds if it would be possible for him to translate documents from Yankish to Silicon English since he planned to find Carlos later and have him write down the contents of the Oracle's speech verbatim in Yankish, as well as Chief Magistrate Deadbrown's words, if possible.
Mr. Felds agreed to the request and left the library. As noon arrived, Kevin was served lunch, a bowl of rice mixed with various greens and fish bits. He wolfed it down quickly and continued studying, waiting to see if Professor Dyson would arrive.
Sure enough, wearing his signature vest and a new looking bowtie, Professor Dyson entered the library and sat across from Kevin.
"Hello, how has your morning been?"
Kevin replied, "It's been fine. Will I be speaking with anyone today?"
Professor Dyson said, "Not today. I have something else for you to do."
He took out multiple sheets of paper and slid them across the table. "This is a copy of an old correspondence. Historians from a variety of institutions have had trouble trying to date it. The two schools of thought are that it comes from either the early era of Judges or in the years immediately following the Silicon Age collapse. The most popular opinion is the former due to the nature of its contents, and anachronisms found within it, however, a solid case has been made for the latter. Since it happens to be composed in Silicon English, I wanted you to have a look at it and let me know if it sounds like something a man from your era would create. Any questions?"
"When would you like me to be finished?"
"I would like your opinion by tomorrow or the day after. Will that be an issue?"
Kevin shook his head and asked, "Can I get a bag to keep this in?"
Dyson replied, "Certainly. I'll have one dropped off in your dorm room. Happy reading!"
With that, Dyson made his exit from the library. Kevin studied Yankish for another 2 hours before making his way back to his room. Once there, he deposited the papers to read later and took 10 copper pennies from his coin bag. He then glanced at the knife he'd claimed the previous night sitting on his dresser, contemplating whether he should take it for his excursion into the city. He wasn't planning to do anything dangerous like a Bounty Board job, he only had plans to find Carlos. But there was always the possibility that he could be attacked or robbed.
Better safe than sorry.
He picked up the sharp steel implement and slid it gently into his right pocket. Then he ripped out a blank paper from his Yankish class notebook, grabbed a pencil and proceeded to set out. As he passed the dorm lobby, he spotted a contraption that looked like a grandfather clock, except instead of the hands and dashed lines of a typical clock. It displayed numbers that read 2:54.
Kevin left the university and began the grueling walk towards Little Havana.
Not many carriages out right now did I leave too early?
After a 15 minute journey, he made it to Little Havana. The streets were noticeably empty compared to his last visits. Nowhere were groups of people chatting while smoking, nor could he spot the children he saw playing together in the streets last time. All the shops were closed, and the markets were vacant of merchants and vendors. Kevin couldn't help but feel uneasy as he walked through the silent streets.
Where is everyone?
He spotted a group of men dressed in grayish tan shirts, trousers and shiny breastplates. The spears and sabers they all carried showed they were soldiers. They were standing around a group of people and directing them in some task. Half of this group was wearing jumpsuits with brown stripes, the other half wore everyday clothing common among Myamians.
One of the soldiers spotted Kevin and shouted in accented Yankish, "Hey you! Stay where you are!"
Kevin stopped in his tracks as the soldier approached him, saber in hand. As he got closer, he said, "You shouldn't be wandering around here right now."
"Why? What's going on?"
"A crackdown is being conducted here. It's better if you head back to where you came from."
"I'm looking for someone. I won't be here long."
The soldier shrugged and went back to his group.
After another minute of walking, Kevin made it to the location of Carlos's stand. Not a soul was in sight.
I guess I should've expected this.
During his last encounter with the man, Carlos went inside the building behind his food stand to get Kevin water, which Kevin surmised to mean he probably lived there or at least owned it.
He walked to the entrance and knocked on the door. No response. Kevin knocked again and said, "Carlos! It's Kevin, from yesterday. I need to talk."
After a moment, the door was opened with obvious hesitation, revealing a woman of average height and beauty. She had black hair, light sun kissed skin and wore a green dress with an apron tied around her waist.
She glared at him and said in a thick Myamian accent, "Who are you? What do you want?"
"I'm here to see Carlos. Is he inside?"
"No."
"Please, I just need to talk. I have coins. Where is he?"
"Yumas take him."
Yumas?
"What is a Yuma?"
She shook her head and said, "Ya.... Yankees like you. Please go."
Kevin persisted "Look I need Carlos, it's important can you-"
The woman slammed the door in his face and audibly locked it.
Kevin sighed and headed back the way he came, deciding to try another time. As walked past the place, he initially saw the soldiers now none could be seen. In their place was a hastily assembled pole with a noose hanging from it. Kevin quickened his pace away from the neighborhood. As he did, he heard a sound resembling a cannon.
***
The temple of Bendici y Paz was located on the eastern edge of Myami, close to the area where the Downtown and Little Havana met. It was a large building made of white marble, with a large domed roof. On the outside, a vast green courtyard surrounded it where symbols of the Ocha, the various beings locals often pleaded to for blessings, assistance, and protection, stood idly.
The inside was ornate yet simple, with pools of water encircling a central altar where offerings could be made before large painted Ocha statues. They all had human bases combined with inhuman features and clothing that distinguished them from each other in line with local lores about their appearances and abilities. The most prominent statue was the one behind the altar, a sculpture of Bendici y Paz himself. It was a tall, muscular effigy with a crown of horns. Holding a spear, it was dressed in a Silicon Age shirt and pants, with a cape flowing behind it.
Bendici y Paz was a widely revered figure in Myami and held the distinction of being the only Ocha who had originally been a human rather than a spirit sent to earth by the Almighty. The temple bore his name because he allegedly constructed it during his time on earth.
In the temple courtyard, a large group of Myamians was packed together, forced to stay in place by a troop of soldiers who patrolled around. These were the residents of Little Havana rounded up during the start of the crackdown. All of them were apprehended on the charge of making illegal sacrifices. Carlos stood nervously in the crowd, watching as the troops finished moving a cannon into position.
With a thunderous boom, the cannon fired, sending a metal ball straight into the temple, creating a large hole in the structure. At that moment, a realization dawned on the crowd. They had all been gathered at the temple to witness its destruction. They gasped and cried as the temple began collapsing in on itself as the cannon fired again and again and again.
A few zealous devotees angered by the display attempted to attack, but they were swiftly cut down. Carlos watched as the temple he grew up sacrificing at turned into rubble, tears forming. The center of Myami's faith was being destroyed in front of his very eyes.
The climax of the destruction came when the statue of Bendici y Paz, now exposed by the destruction of the temple's front, was hit by cannon fire, shattering it completely.
By the end of the day, all that remained was a pile of rubble and memories.