Many things describe me and my sisters. I am Air, which can mean Wind, or Storms, or Breath, or Movement, or Freedom, or any of a countless number of other connections humans make between seemingly unrelated topics. They are prone to finding patterns in things. So I am a varied and complex being. But all of that can be boiled down to two things: The good, and the bad. My sisters are the same way. We are composed of the sweet, gentle aspects of the world. Air that nourishes lungs, breezes that cool temples, skies that offer freedom. I am full of so many good, and wonderful things. Love among them, I realized now.
I returned to the abandoned church of the Survivor. Fleeing the police had been made easier by the fact that half of them were personal friends or admirers of Dane. That knowledge made me feel uneasy. Loyalty was a wonderful thing to a good leader, and Dane was a good leader. But it could just as easily work for a bad one. The moral quandaries of the thin blue line would have to wait for a little bit longer, however. Perhaps until we were not on the verge of a catastrophe. I walked down into the church’s bowels where, not so long ago, I had seen Dane almost murder someone under Jack Knife’s influence. Now the roles were reversed.
I was the first to arrive at the conference room. I had something of an unfair advantage, being the Sister of wind. Someone had even left a window open, which made it easy to slip inside.
Humans are difficult to deal with, because they’re always trying to learn from their mistakes. They are heuristic, which means they apply past experiences to future actions. When a human touches a red-hot stove, they associate all red things with heat, and pain. When a foolish young human boy has once been lied to by a supernatural creature, he may come to mistrust all things he doesn’t understand. He may turn away from those who offer him a second chance, believing it is simply a repetition of the mistakes that brought him where he is today. Without perfect knowledge of what your previous mistakes were, it gives you exciting opportunities to make wholly new errors in judgment.
I remember when the island of Manhattan was first beheld by human eyes. Ten thousand years ago, when the first men crossed the river to visit that island. Like all great cities, it was destined for its place in history. My sisters Gene and Heather had done it, in the ages before there were men. They filled the oceans, they gouged out the lakes, they ripped open the rivers, and these things made it possible for humans to congregate. Where the earth and water mixed, life was in abundance, and humans could be in abundance too. It was my sisters who had brought humans to this place. But it was I who brought the Europeans.