Wood Sprites

It was impossible to avoid news on the bombing. Everyplace they went had newsfeeds spilling out updates. Everyone they brushed up against was talking about it. By the time they reached the 59th Street — Columbus Circle Station, they had learned that authorities had determined that the bomb had been in a truck rented by Vance Roycroft, who had ties to the radical group Earth for Humans. His target apparently had been an art gallery about to open in the building across from their school. Because of the riots, the owners had been careful not to draw attention to the fact they would be selling only artwork from Elfhome. There had been crate upon crate of elf-made pottery, woodcarvings, and clothing. The newsfeeds carried photographs of the artwork. As with most things Elvish, the pieces were exquisite and one-of-a-kind, handcrafted by people that had forever to master their art and the time to create stunning individual pieces.

Roycroft had attempted to pull into the alley behind the art gallery. Finding it blocked by a broken-down garbage truck, he’d double-parked in front of the building and walked away. Judging by the remains of the truck, police were able to determine that the bomb had been in a shipping crate identical to the ones that gallery used, complete with EIA paperwork from the Pittsburgh border. They theorized that Roycroft initially meant to deliver the bomb as a package delayed by customs. They also believed that detonation was controlled remotely by someone other than Roycroft who didn’t realize that the delivery had gone astray. While the blast had been designed to do structural damage, it didn’t contain shrapnel to cause harm to humans. If the bomb had detonated inside the gallery, police speculated, there would have been no loss of life.

Citing this “limited scope of intended damage” and the fact that authorities had already traced Roycroft’s movements to Adirondack Park in upstate New York, the authorities had decided not to shut down the city.

Ironically, none of the targeted artwork had been damaged. The shipping crates and a state-of-the-art fire-suppression system had protected all the pieces. There was an odd undercurrent to the words used to describe the art gallery. The newsfeed repeatedly mentioned that the gallery was empty — except for the art — and heavily insured because of the riots.

“They’re not saying it in so many words, but it’s like they think the original plan would have been acceptable,” Louise grumbled as they waited for the C train. Vance Roycroft’s face remained on the wall while the feed continued with updates on the manhunt for him, along with factoids on the massive state park.

“Why blow up an art gallery in the first place?” Jillian complained. “It’s stupid.”

Aunt Kitty agreed. “Um-hmm. If they were smart, they would have figured out a better way to make their point than with a bomb. The Waldorf Astoria and the UN building are both well protected. They must have decided that the art gallery was a safe Elfhome substitute.”

“Safe for them,” Jillian muttered darkly and then leaned close to Louise for comfort. It made Louise angry that this stranger had blindly lashed out in such a stupid, selfish way.

“The elves won’t ever know about this bomb!” Louise cried. “Humans bought the artwork on Elfhome and brought it to New York City. The elves were already paid; they’re out of the equation. The only people who are going to be impacted are humans. And besides, the elves have nothing to do with how big the quarantine zone is — the UN negotiated the space between the United States and the rest of Earth’s countries.”

“Exactly,” Aunt Kitty said. “The terrorists are protesting the expansion of the zone, and that’s controlled by a vote of the United Nations ambassadors, who are all right here in New York City.”

“They’re trying to control the vote? By blowing up children? If I was an ambassador, I’d be pissed off that someone nearly hurt my kid.”

The C train rumbled into the station, blocking the annoying newsfeed. For a few minutes they focused on getting on. Interestingly, the change in security level made Tesla much more aggressive in keeping between them and other people.

Once they got settled, Aunt Kitty asked, “Are there children of ambassadors in your school?”

“Yes. Several,” Louise answered. “We’re one of the top private schools in the city. I certainly wouldn’t vote in favor of anything if my kid were one of the kindergarteners hit by flying glass. Certainly everyone knows that if their kid was running late for school, they could have been killed in the street. When I was asked to vote, I’d say ‘screw those idiots’ and expand the quarantine zone. It wasn’t the elves that put Pittsburgh on Elfhome. It wasn’t elves that were logging the quarantine zone. It wasn’t elves that brought that artwork to New York. This is all a mess that humans made.”