Chapter 250
When I arrived at the meeting room that we always used for larger meetings, I met with a cacophony of voices. Most of the people I requested were there. Harold, Liam, Rosie, Maria, Eleanor, five of my students; with Soren and his brother Ryan being the only exceptions — which suggested that my realization about the mystic nature of the distraction and all that implied had arrived too late.
Any other time, it would have been a source of worry; but right now, we had too many other things to worry about.
Interestingly, my arrival went unnoticed by the most. They were already arguing quite heatedly, shouting over each other. It was not the usual way they operated, but the size of the crisis was a decent excuse for their situation.
Rosie was the only one that paid attention to my arrival. She caught my gaze worriedly, examining my expression. She must have found what she was looking for, because her worry was soon replaced by a soft, almost invisible smile.
I turned my attention to the rest. Maria sat by a window, looking out, barely listening to the argument between Eleanor and Harold. The former argued for striking out and destroying monster waves before they could gather, while the latter favored a defensive stance.
Terry, Liam, and Jessica were having another heated argument among themselves, while Spencer, Logan, and Rebecca tried to intervene hesitantly, only to fail to get a word edgewise.
Rather than saying something, I glanced around, taking note of the changes the modest meeting room had gone through since we had last gathered in full force. Despite the crisis, a makeover was done. The long table was replaced by a long one similar to a board room, a large map already sprawled, filled with scribbled notes. The chairs were finely carved, a mixture of wood and metal, like a silent statement about the nature of the town.
And, the fanciest one was at the one end of the table, clearly a position of honor, the chair assigned far fancier than the others, reserved for me.
I wonder if those changes were a waste of time, or a poignant notice about our changing nature. I wasn’t the only one that circumstances were forcing me to transform.
Whether we would adapt or break under the pressure was a mystery.