Page 32 of The Artist
“Belle suggested that we do a snow sculpture competition. How would you like that?” Freya asked them with a friendly smile.
“That’s fine.”
“Ooh, can I be on Belle’s team?” Lachlan took a sidestep closer to me.
“Ehh…” Thor frowned.
“How about we make this one a national challenge?” Victor smirked and crossed his arms.
“No, that defies the whole purpose of the summit. We’re supposed to bond across nations.”
“Oh, come on, Thor, are you afraid you won’t be able to create something beautiful?” Victor retorted. “One single national competition won’t kill us.” We should have one member from each nation be a judge and the rest will create masterpieces.”
“Can the judges return to the cabin and wait for the masterpieces to be done?” Celeste asked. “I desperately need a bathroom break.”
“Me too. And I’m freezing,” Harper complained.
“How about I take Celeste and Harper back to the cabin and then you call us when it’s time for us to judge the sculptures,” Mason said.
“That’s fine, but where would we do it?” Thor looked around.
“It has to be somewhere where we can’t see each other’s sculptures and steal ideas.”
“Paranoid much?” Freya shook her head at Victor.
“What about the Moose Valley?” Indiana suggested. “It wouldn’t take us more than twenty minutes if we fly and that place is massive. We would have plenty of snow and room to spread out as groups. That way we could all go back to the cabin and pick up whatever tools we might need plus get a snack before we head up to the valley.”
“I like it. That’s what we’ll do,” Thor declared.
“Shouldn’t we decide as a group?”
Thor chuckled. “No, Holly. This isn’t the Motherlands. You do it your way when you host, but right now you’re in the Northlands and we don’t have a slow democracy where everyone has to agree. As the future ruler I’m the highest ranking in our group. I make the decisions.”
We were walking back to the cabin when I heard Holly whisper to Harper, “I’m so grateful I don’t have to live with a tyrant like Thor. How can the others be okay with him being so bossy all the time?”
I gave a sideways glance to Victor, who wasn’t much better, but before I could make a comment, Aubri, who walked next to me, spoke up, loud enough that everyone could hear her.
“It’s funny how the Motlanders always think that they have more freedom than the rest of us. In reality they are some of the most restricted people on the planet. We Northlanders might have a ruler, but at least he doesn’t tell us how to speak or think.”
Oliver, who was skinny with a large nose, was usually the quiet one in the Motlander group. Provoked by Aubri’s words, he defended his nation in a high-pitched tone, “Neither does our council. We can think for ourselves and speak freely.”
“Then what’s improper speech again? Isn’t that what makes you people report each other when you hear a simple swear word?”
“There’s no need for swear words or hate speech,” Oliver pointed out.
“Except to you hate speech is what the rest of us consider irony or sarcasm.”
“I’m no expert in irony or sarcasm, but from what I understand it’s a low level of humor at other people’s expense. Our society doesn’t appreciate that sort of behavior, nor do we feel that anyone should suffer name-calling or be belittled by others. It’s a matter of decency and respect.”
Aubri threw her hands up. “Fine, Oliver, but then you also have to acknowledge that in order to protect everyone’s sensitive feelings, you gave up freedom of speech. Here in the Northlands we value honesty higher than politeness and we’re taught early on not to take everything so god damn personal.”
Oliver kept his face pointing straight ahead. In general, Motlanders avoided confrontation, but he made one last attempt to defend his nation. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.”
Aubri’s cheeks were red from the cold, but she wasn’t wearing her gloves. With passion for the subject of their discussion, she kept throwing her hands around while walking along: “No, you’re right. At least now you’re allowed to talk about us Northlanders and you can enjoy emotionally charged novels and movies again. That’s an improvement, but you’re far from free. If you can’t see that, Oliver, then you’re more indoctrinated than I thought.”
The rest of the way, we all walked in silence and when it was time to leave again, I was one of the few who seemed excited. I was an artist, and although I’d never sculpted in snow before, this was one of the few challenges where I could excel. After emptying my bladder and fueling up with a bit of fruit and biscuits, I was ready to show them all what I had to offer.
CHAPTER 10
