Green Amidst Grey

Green Amidst Grey
-

Fires roared in the bustling weapons manufactories of the Fourth Officio Assassinorum's headquarters, the forge-heart of the Lyssatra Order. Vast pressers stamped and stamped metal into shape, while the smell of ozone and the hiss of welders filled the air. Rotund maintenance drones trundled about, scooping up scrap and refuse, while magical girls of all stripes were busy smithing the latest batch of the Fourth's implements of war.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; by all accounts, it was but another day on the Olympia, another day of toil for the magical girls of the Fourth. The lone exception was a singular object stashed away in the manufactory's corner, mundane in its nature but for the context of its location, at once ordinary yet extraordinary:

A tree. A single tree, a sole speck of natural green in a world grey and artifice.

It was not a large or imposing tree, being only a few feet tall, yet it stood proud and draped in finery. Ornaments of gold, silver, red, and green hung from it, as did a length of wire bedecked with tiny lights twinkling like little stars. A handful of girls stood around it, chatting animately as they exchanged boxes wrapped in colored paper. Most of them were free of any augmentation, and none of them had Ironforms yet. Two of them wore red, floppy felt hats lined with white fur.

They were an island unto themselves. They exuded a warmth almost never seen aboard the Olympia, a level of relaxation and camaraderie that seemed alien in its cold, grey halls. It was a mistake to say that the girls of the Fourth were emotionless or bereft of cheer, but here...here, in this little corner of a chamber that worked night and day to produce weapons of war, there was peace, joy, and goodwill to all.

Away from all this, standing at their workstations and hovering over blueprints for a new iteration of autocannon, two girls looked up from their duties and gave the curious little corner a glance.

“Huh. Apparently it's Christmas,” said the first girl. The second started, and with a mental command she opened up her calendar. A holographic overlay appeared in her field of vision.

“What? Oh, shit, yeah, today's the 24th.”

The two were in their hulking Heavy Ironforms. Metal tendrils attached to their backs worked away at a plastic autocannon model even as they observed the little corner of holiday cheer. Their blank, utterly expressionless faces regarded what they saw with mild curiosity, a welcome excuse for a five-minute break.

“I can't remember the last time I was at a Christmas party,” said the first.

“What about back in the 8th?” said the second. “You got here a little before me, right? What was that, five years ago, now?”

“Six,” corrected the first. “But yeah, I think that was the last time I did anything holiday-related.” She paused. “I kinda miss eggnog.”

“Eggnog?”

“It's a kind of drink you make out of milk, sugar, raw eggs, and booze. Though, heh, back in the 8th it was mostly booze.”

“...I feel like I'd find that disgusting if I still had a digestive system.”

The first shrugged. “I liked it. Though, I can't really remember what it tastes like, anymore. The nutri-bars they make you eat when before you get an Ironform kinda kinda makes you forget what real food is like.”

“I know, right?” In the corner, one of the girls gave another a deep, passionate kiss as the others looked on and cheered. “Hah, that reminds me of my last Christmas. Spent the day with my boyfriend, had my first kiss right under the big Christmas tree in Mitakihara.”

“You had a boyfriend?” asked the first. Behind her, one of her mechadendrites added the finishing touches on the autocannon model. “What was he like?”

“He was...” The second hesitated.

“He was...what? Go on.”

The second picked up the plastic autocannon and turned it over in her metal fingers, though her attention lay elsewhere. “...huh. Funny, I can barely remember his name or what he looked like. I just remember that last Christmas back home and how much I enjoyed it; I can't remember what color of hair he had, or what kind of clothes he liked to wear, or even what his personality was like...he was pretty nice, I guess? But I dunno.” She set the model down and looked about the manufactory.

The two watched in silence again; this time, the gaggle of Christmas celebrants broke out into an impromptu song. The first winced at this—a professional choir, these girls were not. Nonetheless, the caroling drew the attention of some of the others in the manufactory, even those busy with work; a glance into local Noosphere activity indicated that there were half-a-dozen new attempts to stream holiday music.

The second spoke up again. “This place has a way of making you forget, doesn't it? Kind of its own little world that makes you leave behind your old one.” Her tone was genuinely nonchalant, bearing the same tone one might use to discuss the weather, or remark upon a newspiece of mild interest.

The first considered the second's words before answering. “I guess so.” She turned back to her workstation. “Anyways, back to the grind. Warsmith wants this this new iteration ready for testing by January.”

“What?!” cried the second. “I thought she wanted it by March!”

“Pfft. You didn't get the memo?”

“Urgh, it must have been when the Fabricator-General was yelling at me about the Cataphract's heavy flamethrower module...” She threw the corner of holiday cheer a glare. “This would go faster if the Christmas bunch weren't busy goofing off.”

“I know, right?” said the first. “I'm surprised the Warsmith even let it happen.”

The second let out a sigh. “The Executrix Fetial probably had a hand in it. Crucius' had the Warsmith's ear ever since they made her a Triarch—you know she's petitioned pretty hard to get rid of the Skittarius system?”

The first shook her head. “What a waste of time. Well, in any case, we better get back to work.”

They returned to their duties, trying to put the fleeting memories of holiday cheer aside and focus on their tasks. One of them, however...

<Command: initiate Noosphere uplink>

<COMMAND COMPLETED. NOOSPHERE ACCESS GRANTED.>

<Search: “God Bless Ye Merry Gentlemen.mp3”>

<COMMAND COMPLETED. PLAY AUDIO FILE?>

<Y>

<PLAYING AUDIO FILE...>

-

And so the forge-heart of the Lyssatra continued to burn, belching smoke and fire and tools of murder as it always did day after day. The manufactories toiled, the girls toiled, the drones toiled, and the life of machinery and artifice on the Olympia continued as always.

But stowed away in a corner, out of the way of the hustle and bustle of industry, remained the sanctuary of red and green amidst the ashen gray. In the world of metal stood the lone tree; in the cold halls of an iron god was a warmth warmer than any foundry-flame. The celebrants aboard the Olympia gave gifts, made merry, and sang carols as though they were still at home, even though for many of them, home felt so far away, though home was something they could never return to. Their voices, though few, could be still be heard even over the endless din of the Olympia's beating heart.

The next day, it would all be taken down; the little tree would be tossed into the incinerator, gifts would be opened and stored away, and the holiday songs would fall silent. The older girls would regard the incident as a curiosity, and the younger girls would go back to their daily grind, soon to forget the previous day. No Christmas cheer would grace Olympia's halls until the next year.

For one day, however...for just one day, all on the Olympia remembered what Christmas was about. For some, the memories faded with time...

But none truly forgot the holidays of winter.