Memories of Emily: The Army of Simone Part 2

Third Grade

The fury of conflict consumed what remained of Do Unto Others Elementary School. Pinned behind rubble with Earl, enemy soldiers, and my adopted parents unleashing a storm of laser fire, the Az fleet fast approached the school bus of kids we protected. Seeing no escape, Emily rose, charging Earl in pure, courageous sacrifice, whipping the trigger, sending beams tearing through Earl’s men. Providing suppression fire, I stood and furiously worked the laser pistol, slaying treacherous humans and forcing Earl into retreat.  

Emily’s arm flailed as she went to her knees, wounded by my adopted mother. Racing to her in a rage unstoppable, I unloaded my photonic vengeance, shredding and burning my adopted parents’ worthless bodies as they looked on in shock. 

With the immediate threat dead or retreating, I helped Emily to her feet, and we returned to the school bus packed with kids. Taking the wheel, Emily started the bus just as enemy ships filled the sky and horizon behind the bus, closing fast. With no time, I turned to tell Emily to drive, hoping to buy her the time needed for escape but hesitated as deafening war cries and squealing tank tracks filled the acrid air. Crowding the space between the Az and the bus, the Army of Simone arrived just in time. A living deus ex machina, Marlene, the legendary warrior philosopher, led the secret, freedom-fighting force from the shadows. The relief felt seeing she survived the initial Az onslaught flashed my mind to the day we met at the great Enoch Pratt Library, where Emily and I hoped to find clues to the location of West Atlantis.  

We investigated the ancient records at the Enoch Pratt Library, unaware of the librarian surveilling our searches. Near the library's closing, the soldiers of Simone confronted us in a tense, hands-poised-to-draw confrontation. Marlene, posing as the librarian, stepped forward. “We know you are Atlantean. What do you seek?” 

I faced the librarian. “Who are you? What business is it of yours?” 

An enormous, cloaked soldier stepped forward with a suspiciously green face and hands revealing a hulkish nature. “Keep your tongue respectful, for you speak to Marlene the great, the noble, the sweet, the beautiful, the carefree one, the brilliant, the guardian of Simone’s knowledge, the bringer of mercy, the benevolent, the loved-” 

The swift lift of her hand signaled silence from her defender. “It has been a millennium since humans last spoke with Atlanteans. We are the Army of Simone formed from the teachings of Simone Lucie Ernestine Marie Bertrand Beauvoir.  

“We are a freedom fighting force committed to stopping a person's imprisonment in gender, racial, and any other stereotype. No one is a mere sphere orbiting another body but is a star unto themself.” Marlene raised her right finger to the air. “We oppose the hierarchy of nature thrust upon us by a creation that dictates place and privilege at the expense of our sisters and brothers. We choose to transcend nature in equality’s true gift of autonomous life, and so defend that gift and the peace it brings.” 

Emily stepped forward. “We mean no harm. We seek information we might use to locate Atlantis. We’re just trying to go home.” 

Laughter filled the room as Marlene frowned. “You lost your city?” 

We laughed and told the story of our long journey and the unknown fate of the city, to which Marlene agreed to help extract vital information from the ancient records. Days passed tediously sifting through fragments of writings and pouring over books as we sought clues to the mystery of Atlantis. Nodding as I read, fatigue stole my consciousness as Marlene and Emily conversed in their research. “Emily, I hate to point to the obvious, but the Atlanteans may have left the earth or perished in…” 

Sitting beside me in the night
Softly she yodeled the eternal light, 

You’re in my heart true
In the plans we laid 
In the lives we played  
In the nights you stayed  
In the words we prayed  

Lost in blue 
Looking for you  
I waited for you 

Waiting the roadside  
Waiting for your ride  
Waiting in time’s tide 
Waiting in divide   

Lost in blue 
Waiting for you 
I’ll never find you 

Never told me lies  
Never turned your eyes
Never truth denied  
Never love denied 

Lost in blue
I’m missing you
I’m missing you

“…we found something.” Emily’s hand tugged at my arm, returning consciousness. She pointed to some ancient heroic verse claiming Atlantis moved from the Bermuda Triangle and possibly fell victim to a great calamity. Beyond this cryptic passage, we found nothing, and while the news saddened us, we felt grateful to Marlene, who presented us with gifts. 

Marlene extended to us shiny, etched cards. “Take these, Atlanteans. These are the keys to knowledge’s living memory written since the dawn of humanity, beginning on cave walls, stretching into the graffiti-filled streets of Rome, surviving too many dark ages, culminating into a sprawling web of ever-expanding subjects, genres, philosophies, invention, and entertainment no single human could ever begin to access. Take these most precious gifts as they are the danakes needed for safe ferrying across the void to our ancestry, history, and wisdom.” 

Accepting our newly inscribed public library cards laid the foundation for a new relationship between Atlanteans and humans, which paused my hatred in a new hope Marlene inspired for the Chromags. 

And now, Marlene stood in the breach to halt the enemy’s charge, slowly turning and stoically waving for us to leave. Leaping in the back of the school bus, I slammed the door, and Emily gunned the engine, lurching the bus away from a cloud of destruction that engulfed Marlene and her fighters as they warred for the time we needed to escape. I closed my eyes in prayer, fearing the worst for Marlene and the Army of Simone. 

For all the efforts of Marlene and the militaries of the world, the annihilation of most of humanity could not be stopped. In the first wave of attack, all the adults in the world were killed, leaving the earth a desolate, broken wasteland littered with the corpses of cities. Out of the ruins, survivors came from all corners of the planet, kids large and small. Emily and I witnessed the global child diaspora trudging the roads of sorrow into the new era of survival. They marched their way to the backyard of my dead, adopted parents’ home.