| Scene Title | Wildfires |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | An anonymous American YouTuber calls out the double standard around treatment of the Evolved. |
| Date | July 21, 2019 |
The Internet
Death to the Double Standard (OFFICIAL)
91,595 viewsFirebird2019
Published on July 21, 2019
Don’t let them tell you your worth and put you down in the same breath.
F*ck ‘em.
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A low-quality video feed clicks on, the camera it’s taken with settled directly onto rocky, desert ground. In the near distance, what one might consider to be too near, rages a fire and eats away the brush and any green the area might have held. It crackles in silence for only a moment before music of all things begins to play, brass over strings and the staccato notes of a guitar.
Fire in my eyes
Fire in my lungs
I am not afraid
I’ve known it all along
In the twist of the flames ahead, a person can suddenly be glimpsed in the shimmering heat and the towering red. They become clearer as the black smoke of the burn behind them provides a backdrop.
A calm before the storm
A whistling in the trees
Paranoia is burning in the breeze
The figure turns in in lazy, twisting circles, arms spread by their side. Their head is tilted back up toward the sky, heat-damaged auburn tresses framing their face in bouncing spikes.
And all I’ve ever found
Is burning to the ground
And all I’ll ever do
Is burn a hole in you
They’re dancing, wrists rotating and arm weaving. At their fingertips, the flames dance with them, the life of the Western wildfires ebbing and flowing.
A spark becomes a flame
The wheels begin to rust
Ashes turn to ash
Lovers turn to dust
The sound of feminine laughter can be heard in the distance while the figure spins, and the flames lick at her fingertips. With a flex of fingers, the energy of the fire begins to siphon away from the ground and into her hands.
Wildfire swept over me
Burning bright and out of control
Like a vacuum, her palms and fingertips continue to absorb the fire, stripping it from the ground. She dances in torn jeans, a loose red tank, and a black leather vest. A spiked bracelet adorns her right wrist. In a span of only a few moments, a path is carved through the inferno, and the flames that seemed all too close only a minute before are now gone. The girl walks with heavy, cocksure footsteps to approach the camera, eyes glinting with the energy of the fire within her while her arms swing by her side.
Wildfire swept through me
Turning my insides to black
Destroying everything in its—
The music cuts off abruptly as the young woman picks up the camera, a moment taken to adjust it in front of her face. The clearly seen orange glow in her eye fades as she smiles at the camera, chin lifting as she contemplates the viewer with vibrant brown irises.
“You know, people been spouting a lot of bullshit lately. This and that,” she says, the crackle of the remaining nearby flames heard behind her. “‘Evos are dangerous.’ ‘Maybe Sectioning’s not a bad idea.’” The girl rolls her eyes before looking back up intensely at the lens. “If that weren’t bad enough, the same people turn around asking ‘Where were the Evolved when disaster struck?’ ‘Why didn’t they stop it?’ ‘Why didn’t they help?’ Like we’re just supposed to drop everything and save the day out of the kindness of our hearts. No matter the cost. No matter how you treat us every other day of the week.”
She laughs, the sound of it as crisp as the air around her. “Evolved aren’t the enemy, you slice-hating dickbags. They’re the answer. You only realize it in times of crisis, when you come crying to us for help.”
“You know what I say to that?”
“Fuck you, pay me.”