Elegy squinted as he looked over the dig site. It was roped off into a grid and several of the squares already had large holes from drilling attempts. The drilling rig itself stood still now, in row two, column C. One digger was refueling it while another removed chunks of mud from the bit.

“Well? Do you feel anything?” the foreman asked.

“Feel” was the wrong word. There wasn’t a term to describe the additional sense that Elegy and other Hallowed Surveyors had. If he were to compare it to a touch, he would say it was like a pulling. If it were a sound, it would be a crackling. If it were a sight, it would be a white mist somehow visible beneath the solid ground. If it were a smell, it would be the scent of rain. And if it were a taste, it would be the flavor of grass. This was how Elegy described it when he tried to explain it to non-Surveyors. Usually, it just earned him confused looks. But his fellow Surveyors would nod in understanding at the explanation.

He could sense it now. Astral Dew. The holy fuel and the only defense against the dark goddess known as the Queen.

“It’s there,” Elegy replied. “Just like Sonnet said. A lot of it, spread wide, beneath the entire dig site.”

“Then why can’t we find it?” asked the foreman. He was a craggy-faced, bearded man. Clearly experienced enough that he should know that his whining wouldn’t change what Elegy sensed.

“Could be that there’s a pocket of air or gas,” suggested Supervisor-Bishop Meekins. The pinch-faced bishop was coordinating Elegy’s visit to the dig site. Elegy would be having words with him later about his accommodations. “An air pocket can spread the signal wide and throw Surveyors off sometimes.”

Elegy leaned forward, and Madeline, his maid, adjusted her parasol to keep it over him. Not that it did much good in the blistering heat. He concentrated, trying to ignore the way it felt like the air was pressing in at him from all sides. If there were an air pocket, he would be able to sense the Astral Dew more strongly through the already-dug holes.

He shook his head. “It’s deep. Much deeper than Sonnet thought. Which means there’s a lot more of it than she thought, too.”

The bishop patted the foreman on the back. “Good news and bad news, eh? We’ll get some new equipment transported for you in a couple of days.”

“What about my workers?” asked the foreman. “Will they be paid while they’re waiting around?”

“We can’t afford to pay someone if they aren’t working,” the bishop replied.

“Then we’ll bus them back home and bring them back when the equipment arrives?”

“We can’t afford needless transportation earlier.”

The foreman opened and closed his mouth a few times before forming a response. “So they’re just stuck here for days, waiting with no pay?”

“They’re free to go where they please, as long as they don’t use company transport.”

The foreman began to raise his voice. “There’s nowhere they can go! We’re in the middle of a desert!”

“That is not the Arvakr Corporation’s problem.”

“I can find work for them. There’s equipment to be repaired. The camp needs to be cleaned. Hell, if the Surveyor can stay, we can get some more detailed information and better prepare the site.”

The bishop thought about this for a moment. “That’s not a bad idea. Elegy can stay for a few days.”

Elegy felt something catch in his chest. “I’ll miss the festival,” he protested.

The Surveyors’ Festival was in two days. It was a celebration of Elegy and the other Surveyors, where the people of Lasstop offered gifts to the saviors who found them Astral Dew. He would miss the chiming music and the pastries and the colorful outfits. And everyone else would get the first pick of gifts.

“There’s always next year,” said the bishop.

“But they have to wait for the drill anyway. And they know the Dew is down there. They don’t need me here.”

“Elegy,” Bishop Meekins said firmly. “The whole reason we have a festival is because you Surveyors fulfill your responsibilities so dutifully. The people will understand if you aren’t able to be there because you’re helping secure the planet.”

Elegy had to find a way out of this. There wasn’t any point to him spending more time at the site. Sure, he could possibly figure out where the Astral Dew was most heavily concentrated, but that wouldn’t matter since they would be harvesting all of it. Any further information Elegy gave them would be moot as soon as the drill arrived. But of course, Bishop Meekins wouldn’t listen. He wanted the work to continue. The only way Elegy would be leaving tomorrow would be if he found something else for them to do. In desperation he looked to the nearby hills.

“There’s more Astral Dew in that hill. Can’t they dig there while they wait for the new drill?”

Bishop Meekins frowned and squinted at the hill. “Sonnet mentioned that hill, too. But she said it was a weak signal. Most likely a false one.”

Elegy concentrated on the hill, trying to work out how deep the Astral Dew was. False signals sometimes happened with larger deposits. A less dense rock or an underground air pocket might create the sense that the Astral Dew was in a completely different location, just as an echo from around a corner might create the impression that it was coming from somewhere else. But this hill was large enough that Elegy could sense both the top and the bottom of the deposit. It was small and weak, but close to the surface.

“It’s not a false signal. I can tell.”

Bishop Meekins gave Elegy a condescending look. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you want to go to the festival?”

“You know Sonnet always underestimates these things,” Elegy insisted. “She was wrong about the dig site, too.”

“It’s steep, but we would be able to secure the drill,” the foreman said.

“I’m not wasting time and risking a drill chasing some phantom signal,” the bishop said sternly.

Elegy felt tears well up in his eyes, but he refused to let the bishop or the foreman see him cry. So he ducked low and ran back to his trailer, a surprised Madeline trotting after him.

The accommodations for this trip paled in comparison to his quarters at the Surveyors’ Estate at the Arvakr Central Compound, but they had a certain coziness that normally made for a nice change when Elegy made trips like this. Now, however, its narrowness felt suffocating. The only things to eat were snacks and the simple meals Madeline could prepare in the small kitchen, not the elaborate celebration feast Elegy deserved. There was no one to talk to except the timid Madeline and the stuffy Bishop Meekins; there would be no laughing or fun with the other Surveyors. He was trapped here, stifled by the desert heat, far from the cool winds and luscious grass of the capital. And when it came time to rest, there was only the bed that was so small Elegy could barely roll over without falling off instead of one at home which he could easily lay sideways across. He sat on the bed now, sobbing into Madeline’s shoulder as she tried to find the words to comfort him.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Of course the bishop wouldn’t just leave him to his misery. Acting quickly, Madeline dried his tears and fixed his hair before he answered.

“What do you want now?”

“We need to have a talk.” Bishop Meekins pushed his way into the trailer and guided Elegy to the dining table where the two sat down.

“Elegy, you’re a man now. And I know that you understand the depth of your responsibility as a Surveyor.”

“Yeah, I know,” Elegy mumbled, looking at the table.

“Astral Dew is our only protection from the Queen. The Benefactors of the Arvakr Corporation arrived on this planet centuries ago and gave us the means to protect ourselves. They gave us the means to create Surveyors like you. They brought their ships and they disperse the Astral Dew throughout the system to keep the Queen away. It’s only because of them and you that any of us are alive today.”

“I know,” Elegy repeated. Did he have to explain this all to him as if he were a child?

“Astral Dew has been scarce lately. The next Benefactor ship arrives soon and we barely have enough for it. If this deposit contains as much as you believe, it could buy us a few years. But we need to reach it as soon as possible. Do you understand? I’m not making you do this out of cruelty.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He just wanted this to end. But of course the bishop wasn’t done yet.

“This brings me to your behavior. I know you were always a sensitive child, but you aren’t a child anymore. A man doesn’t run away crying when things don’t go his way. Men have to be strong. Becoming emotional displays weakness, and if the people think you’re weak, they’ll lose confidence in you.”

“Sonnet and Epic can cry,” Elegy mumbled.

“Sonnet and Epic are women. Their strength is different from a man’s strength. Their strength comes from their empathy and compassion. Yours comes from resolve and silent stoicism.”

Elegy knew it would just prolong the lecture, but the words slipped from his mouth anyway. “Why can’t I be strong like Sonnet and Epic?”

“Because what’s strength for women is weakness for men. You should try to be more like Ode. He has a man’s courage and leadership.”

Elegy gave a noncommittal moan. Nothing sounded worse to him than being like Ode. The other male Surveyor was a loud, obnoxious bully who thought his large size and natural strength made him better than the others. If strength meant being like Ode, Elegy preferred weakness.

Weakness had always had a certain appeal to him. He knew it was irrational. Why should anyone want to be weak? But it was true. He wanted to be dainty and sensitive. He supposed he was, regardless of whether he wanted it, but he wanted those qualities to be charming traits instead of flaws. He wondered for the thousandth time whether he was broken in some way.

“I’ll give you some time to think on this,” the bishop said quietly. “Thank you, Surveyor, for the protection you bring us.”

He stood and left. Elegy laid his head on the table. “Do you think he’s right?”

It took Madeline a moment to realize he was addressing her. “Oh! It’s really not my place to say.”

“But he’s wrong,” Elegy whined. He knew it wasn’t fair to force Madeline to choose between contradicting a bishop or a Surveyor. So he let it drop. “Make me dinner.”

“Right away, my Surveyor.”

Soon the kitchen was full of the smell of spices as Madeline sauteed something and Elegy began to relax. He was immensely grateful for her presence. During his early teens, he had gone through a series of male valets. Each time, he had failed to connect with them. Uncomfortable with the idea of being seen naked or in his underwear, he would refuse to allow them to dress him and he would frequently send them away, uncomfortable with their mere presence. Each time, he would end up going to the bishops to demand someone else. Eventually, after hearing Epic’s maid softly singing to her one morning, he had demanded that he be given a maid instead of a valet. This had caused a stir amongst the bishops who attempted to explain that a man having a personal maid created a risk of impropriety. Elegy had been too young to understand what this meant, and had continued his demands. Eventually, the bishops had relented and he had been given Madeline.

When Elegy had first met Madeline, he had excitedly asked if she could sing and was surprised when the maid had squeaked nervously and meekly replied that she couldn’t. It seemed that his repeated rejection of valets had earned him a reputation for being fussy and demanding. Even after years of being together, Madeline remained timid, always rushing to follow orders as if Elegy might shout at her if she didn’t hurry. However, she was a constant comfort with a soft touch and the rare ability to wield a hairbrush without causing any pain. Plus, Elegy loved to look at her. She was young, just a little older than Elegy himself, and when she cooked or sewed she moved with a natural grace that she didn’t even seem to be aware of. There was an art to the way she poured oil into a pan, or the way she removed a jacket from the closet, which left Elegy wishing that he could create beauty simply by doing everyday things.

As he watched her, Elegy’s thoughts drifted back to the Astral Dew in the hill. It was no false signal. He felt his frustration growing as he thought about how he could make it back in time for the festival if only the bishop would listen to him. He started to tap his foot and realized he couldn’t keep sitting here. Just as Madeline placed his food before him he announced “I’m going for a walk.”

Madeline paused for a moment. “But, my Surveyor, your food will get cold.”

Elegy shrugged. “I don’t care.”

Madeline bowed. “As you wish, my Surveyor.”

She began to reach for the parasol, but Elegy shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll walk alone.”

Madeline’s eyes widened with terror. “Are you sure, Surveyor? The dig site is full of strangers. It might not be safe.”

“Why would anyone hurt me?” Elegy asked. “I’m a Surveyor.”

He stepped out as Madeline was still trying to find a response. The heat was still nearly-unbearable and he quickly missed the parasol, but it would be little use soon as the sun was setting. He made his way down the hill where the trailer was parked, his feet already aching from the uneven ground. 

By the time he reached the dig site, the sun had set and he was winded. How had it taken him so much time and effort just to walk down the hill? Was undeveloped land always this exhausting? How did regular people live?

The dig site was already abandoned for the evening, the workers having returned to their campsite for dinner. No one noticed as he slipped under the ropes and made his way across to the hill on the other side. By now, the sun had set enough that he was no longer in direct light, but it was a small comfort as the air was still smothering as he began the most difficult part of his journey. Slowly, he began to trudge his way up the dusty hill.

After what felt like hours, he reached the place where he sensed the Astral Dew most strongly. He scoffed at the absurdity of it being a false signal when it tugged at his feet like this. It must have been right beneath the surface. He wondered if the earth was so thin that it might break and plunge him directly into his prize.

Of course, he had no way to prove any of this to the bishop. His heart sank as he realized that this entire trip was a waste. There was never going to be any proof until they actually dug and they wouldn’t dig until there was proof. Elegy let out a loud groan of frustration and sank to his knees.

As he did so, he caught his right knee on something hooked beneath him. He looked down, expecting to see an oddly-shaped rock, but instead discovered that it was a piece of metal. Feeling it, he found that it was attached to the ground, but it still shifted slightly at his touch. He brushed away some of the dust around it and discovered that the ground beneath it was metal. Was it a door?

Repositioning so that he wasn’t standing directly on top of it, he gripped the handle and twisted it, feeling a surge of excitement as it moved just as he’d expected. He gave a pull.

The door didn’t move.

He pulled agan, harder. It still didn’t move. He wondered if maybe the handle had been in the unlocked position to begin with and twisted it back before trying again. Still nothing. Twisting it again, he crouched low and heaved with all his might, trying to ignore the pain in his hands. With a crunching sound, the door began to open. He adjusted his hands from the handle to grip the door’s inside and with a burst of effort, he pushed the door all the way open.

Dim lights could be seen from the hole it made. Peering down, Elegy noticed a ladder, angled oddly. He had no idea what was down there, but the mystery was irresistible. Gripping the ladder tightly, he carefully made his way down.

Inside he immediately felt cooler. That, combined with his excitement made his fatigue melt away. The air smelled musty. Rows of small lights which barely glowed enough for Elegy to see his surroundings lined walls that seemed to be made of something like hard plastic. When he reached the bottom of the ladder, he discovered that the floor, too, was slanted awkwardly.

He knew what this was. A Benefactor ruin. He’d been taught the stories since his childhood. The ancient Benefactors had once spread their light and virtue throughout the galaxy, colonizing many planets like Lasstop. However, the Queen had appeared and fought a war with the Benefactors. The Benefactors had won, but at great cost, including losing contact with many of their colonies. After centuries of living under the constant threat that the Queen might attack, the Benefactors had rediscovered Lasstop and brought to them the holy protection of Astral Dew. Ancient Benefactor ruins could sometimes be found buried on Lasstop. Naturally, they were all the property of the Arvakr Corporation, the Benefactor organization tasked with the sacred duty of distributing Astral Dew.

He considered going back now. He could tell Bishop Meekins what he had discovered and hope the bishop believed him. Perhaps he could find some small object as proof. However, he decided, as long as he was here he might as well explore.

He let the Astral Dew guide him. It flowed in the walls all around him, concentrated in some areas but mostly in thin ribbons, most likely pipes. He passed through hallway after hallway, finding various computers and other pieces of unrecognizable tech. Normally, he would pause to examine it—he loved visiting the corporate museum and looking at ancient artifacts—but all of it was so heavily cast in shadow that he couldn’t make out any details. So he continued, peeking into rooms and lightly touching screens and keyboards.

As he opened the door into one room, he was immediately assaulted by blue light. It couldn’t have been brighter than a lamp, but with his eyes adjusted to the darkness, it forced him to look away for several seconds. When he looked again, he saw that the light source was a huge glass tank surrounded by tubes which practically gurgled with Astral Dew. At its base, a small plaque read “REGICIDE.”

Inside the tank was a man.