The Legacy of Sweeping Tides

For once, the lounge in that grand old dwelling is quiet.

It’s been reclaimed, recently. Sweep has tucked himself into that little corner of the room far away from all the expensive ornaments where a child used to hide away and doodle sketches on the walls in places his parents would never find, set up his paints and desks, and made camp. It would do for now. He's never had a proper studio in this place, and he won't be staying long enough to set one up, and so here he is. He seems the least likely to be disturbed here – nobody really uses this room any more, not when the other halls have just been refurbished. It's Sweep's space for now.

He needs the quiet. The scrapes he had picked up on SCN-2X-1-14 are long since healed but the ache remains. Every time he stretches out his tentacles a little too fast. Or glides past an item of Brilliance's that his parents had yet to clear away.

Right now, the buoyant little Sailor who's only just beginning to regain a little of his old cheer can be found intensely working away at a large stretch of canvas. A simple scene, this time. Swathes of deep black and blue layered atop one another, and a sky full of pinpricked stars.

Some of those white dots of paint are a little larger than the others. Seemingly innocuous pinpricks, each with a name that only one would ever know.

Clea.

Brilliance.

And…

Do-Loris.

He hasn't been checking the bulletin. He doubts that it'll even be in the bulletin, with how secret all this business is and whatnot, but all the same. Sweep doesn't know if he's ready to learn her fate just yet.

Deep down, he knows what it's going to be.

Lying used to horrify Sweep, even the mere thought of it (rude! shockingly rude!!), and yet… of all that he's done these past quarters, all the choices that have been forced upon him, that one lie for Do-Loris is perhaps the one thing that won't haunt him. Perhaps it was the wrong thing to do, almost certainly in the eyes of the Guild, but he couldn't sell her out. Not after she had promised him she wanted to make amends.

There's some good left in the cold galaxy after all, even with the wounds that the war had torn into it, and Sweep's going to carry that hope like a flickering firelight and keep it close. There's good left out there.

Even Gleam isn't that much of a nightmare when you get to know him, really.

Well - that's a lie. Sweep's tentacles glimmer with amusement as he picks up his brush and returns to eyeing a particularly stubborn corner of the canvas. Gleam is, and will always be, a nightmare. But he's Sweep's nightmare.

And maybe, just maybe that's all that matters.

Written by Maya H.

Strokes sweeping gently against the canvas, paint flowing at Sweeping Tides' direction, his attention lost in the detail of each texture, each flavour of light and dark. The intricacy of each shade forming something bigger, something impossibly bigger: a dragon, wings outstretched, glowing and glorious. To create something new is always a joy. Perhaps today it is a particular relief. The newness of this painting says that today is today and yesterday was yesterday. The past is past, the new is here.

He later shows this painting to Gleam. Gleam is fascinated by the way the dragon seems to live – how it looks as if it will soon draw breath and swallow the viewer up. Of course he wouldn’t get swallowed by a dragon. He’s a much too good space pilot for that. But at any rate, Sweep will teach him how to make someone feel afraid with his art, won’t he? That would be terribly useful of course, for intimidating the enemies of the family!

Gleam is… like this. Always finding new ways to justify ‘paperwork’ as worthwhile because of some tenuous link to a practical purpose. He doesn’t seem to be able to admit to himself that he does it because it's fun or because it's beautiful or because it's with his brother, whom he loves. Perhaps though, his tenuous links, becoming more ridiculous each time, speak his unspoken love. Through his absolute failure to show how art will draw him closer to world domination, Gleam proves that he is here because he wants to be.

Sweep returns home, more often and for longer. He avoids the stars. When he wants to get away from home, he stays with friends like Saul-tii on the Thousand Colours Moon, or takes Guild friends to see the sights. On occasion he might visit the Guild. He starts doing some grounded work for S.E.A.: admin, advertising -– things that don’t require an EVA suit and a spaceship.

Eventually, Sweep goes out with a S.E.A ship for the first time. He does this on occasion over the next few cycles. They go on a few Guild-surveys, too. He finds a few things, makes a lot of art. His crowning accomplishment is a fruit he stumbles across, that is soon grown and sold across the Guild, and becomes very popular on Kallimar.

The best thing about travelling the stars again is that Sweep sees his friends more often. He makes new friends too. Asteroid and art therapy have become a popular combo at the station, and he enjoys taking a group out and helping them as they try to capture exploding rocks in paint and pencil. The stars are open to him again, should he want them. But everything he needs is open to him too. Friends, even family, messy as it will always be.

And he does spend a lot of time at home, with his insufferable, but loveable family.

One day at breakfast Gleam is very excited about something. He tells the whole family that there is a political showcase in the town square, a networking event if you will. All the important families will be there, and Gleam himself organised the entire thing. Won’t they all go with him to see his hard work?

There is an empty silence around the table, as everyone unknowingly holds their breath. A family trip to the town square. Isn’t it still too soon?

But there has been peace across the border in Eternal Skies for several cycles. Peace seems to be the trajectory of this little moon.

Sweep's mother speaks, ‘Of course Gleam. We’ll all go! We wouldn’t miss this important moment in our spectacular son’s career for the world! Besides, it will be good for all of you to get some contacts. Even you, Sweep, with your erm work for that er… charitable organisation… seek?“

‘S.E.A. – it stands for Scion’s Endless-’

‘Yes! Well exactly. Let’s all go. It will do us good’

She is fighting back some involuntary flickers. A few dim streaks of light run down her tentacles despite best efforts. Almost unnoticeable. Almost. Sweep wonders if its grief, or if she's trying not to think about the Weapon. She must have seen his name in the reports, but none of his family have ever mentioned it, except Gleam of course.

The whole family seems to brace itself, but eventually everyone nods, and you all go. To the town square.

It’s a strange journey; everyone fighting to maintain cheerful facades as the dower thoughts and memories flicker past. But Gleam is truly delighted, or so it seems. It’s a contrast Sweep can’t quite understand. Is he really so oblivious to what the town square means to the family, especially in the context of an event like this? Is he so oblivious to what it should mean to him?

When you arrive, there’s a significant crowd gathered in the square. An image of another crowd flickers through everyone's minds. But instead of a stage, this time there's a range of boards and glass cases, creating something of a maze out of the space.

Sweep's father inquires, ‘Sweep, does this event include, a- a museum of sorts?’

‘Just come and look! This political gathering is a gathering of art! You see, art is all about politics because…’

But Sweep isn't listening anymore, because here he is, in the square, surrounded by his own art. There are other artists represented too: some of Saul-tii’s work, and even a couple of Gleam’s better pieces. Some are by artists Sweep's never heard of, and some by artists who once inspired him. But here is his artwork, the central display, bright and breathing all around the square. He's relieved to find that Gleam has not stolen your artwork, instead he’s taken scans and made copies. So this is why Gleam has kept asking Sweep to send him photos of your artwork for the past quarter. It wasn’t just because Gleam had ‘paperwork block’ and needed inspiration. However, whilst most of them are copies, in the centre of it all, in the very spot where… where it happened… where–

There is an original piece of Sweep's.

He looks back at Gleam, but he’s too busy arguing with his parents.

But there it is. In the centre. A dark canvas, thick strokes, layers upon layers of chaos. And in the centre a bright light. There’s a painting beside it. You recognise Gleam’s clumsy tentacles behind the strokes. In this painting the light has expanded outwards, pushing the darkness to the edges of the canvas. Brilliance of colours filling the space, in chaos -– yes -– but also in beauty and excitement and joy.

The plaque beneath reads ‘In memory of Brilliance of the Skies’.

Behind Sweep, Gleam and his parents are just audible, arguing.

'Well you see, I'm actually applying for this job with S.E.A instead. They are doing really good work supporting the displaced communities. I mean Sweep works for them and…'

'And?'

'And I want to too!'

As they start to tell him about how he's wasting his talents, Sweep takes a last glance at his artwork. Brilliance of the Skies would most certainly be proud of him for this. He'd be proud of Gleam too. And with that, Sweep turns around to face his family. It is time for him to once again extract Stupendous Gleam from danger, and, he chuckles to himself, try his hand at diplomacy once again. It might not shape the fate of the galaxy, but this will certainly be one of the most challenging diplomatic endeavours Sweep has ever ventured.

“Some of you will already know, even as you listen to this speech, exactly what it is you want to do with your lives. Some of you will have jobs lined up – big, powerful jobs, from which you can help to guide the course of our futures. But there will be many of you – probably most of you – with no idea what wonderful and incredible things you want to set your life towards. And when everyone around you has their plans already made, their life already set out, and you don’t, it can be easy to feel overlooked, or inferior – and eventually, to accept that that’s the way things are, and let your dreams fade into others’ shadows.

It is to all of those people that I wish to tell a story, the story of Sweeping Tides. She was born into a family of politicians and corporate powerhouses; surrounded from her first breath by an inheritance of ambition. Yet all she ever wanted was to create; to furnish her artistry, and produce humble, yet inspiring works. Her family, of course, looked down on such a hobby.

But Sweep was not disturbed; she ventured all the way into the auspices of the Cartographers' Guild to advance her craft. And there she met with figures so much larger than her family had ever dreamt to be; bent the ear of powers so much greater than any Sailor. And none of them looked down on her. They stood by her, as equals; appreciated her and her art for the glimpse of truth and honesty they offered. In an important sense, her quiet, peaceful desire to make, and to inspire and simply be appreciated for being herself, took her further than anyone else in her family.

So do not be dissuaded, my friends, if you watch your classmates cross the finish line before you are even certain which race to swim. Being true to yourself will take you further in life than any ambition; and knowing your truth takes time and care. Whether you make your sprint now or in half a lifetime, the crowd will cheer all the same – and I among them!”

Graduation Speech, National Academy of the Eternal Skies.