Olive’s Kalon Stories

[Olive;]

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Hey everyone! This is the thread I’ll use to keep all the writing I’ve done of my kalons. I don’t want to clog up their info pages with longer stories.
Have fun reading, but please don’t post!

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Lena Rossi
Lily Meng
Nova Akash
Jira Rossi
Lennor Rossi
Diana Mizrahi
Lyndon Rossi
Namara Arriero
Teo Santos
Ruby Meng
Peach Meng
Miren Meng
Tamir Haim

cool text © cooltext.com

[Olive;]

Mrs. Mulberry

As Lena sat in her office, surrounded by her closest advisors, her mind drifted back to a time when nothing could obstruct her vision...
Soon, she was in a small first grade classroom filled with about 20 students. Mrs. Mulberry’s class, she remembered. The old kalon was strict, but incredibly kind.
"Can anyone tell us about our government?"
A young Lena’s hand shot up. Mrs. Mulberry laughed, and called on her. "Lena?"
"We have three branches to our government: judicial, executive, and legislative. The legislative brach makes the laws, the executive branch enforces them, and the judicial branch interprets the laws."
If the first grade teacher was impressed, she didn’t show it. "Who heads each of the branches?" she inquired.
Lena wasted no time thinking. "Congress, which consists of the Senate and the House of Representatives, leads the legislative branch. The judicial branch is led by the Supreme court of the U.S. There are nine justices in the court, so that they can’t ever tie. Finally, the executive branch has the president."
The teacher looked at her in adoration. "Lena, mark my words, you are going to change the world one day."
...Lena was brought back into the real world with shouts and cheers.
"The results are in! You won! Congratulations, Mrs. Rossi. We’re looking forward to seeing what you can do."
Lena smiled to herself. "Seeing what I can do..." she mumbled. “Mrs. Mulberry was right. I am going to change the world today."

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[Olive;]

Save the Bees

For Lily, it was a regular day in their floral shop. They had owned it for a couple years now, and things had settled into a comforting rhythm. Their regular customers would make a weekly appearance, cycling in and out of the shop. Occasionally, a new customer would wander into the shop, drawn in by the flowers by the window, or hearing the whispers that flowed through the streets. Lily grew beautiful flowers, and now everyone knew it. It was easy to be entranced by the whimsical flowers.
As Lily stood behind the counter, a soft breeze blew in through the open door, tickling the wind chimes, their notes filling the air of the quiet shop. It was a slow spring day, and though it could get boring at times, Lily found peace in working there. Oftentimes, they studied their notes while waiting for a customer to come up to them.
"Hello!" a new customer walked in through the door, already absorbed in looking at the wide variety of flowers that were in the store. Lily fiddled with their hair until the customer finally made his selection and walked up to the counter, and placed it on the counter.
"One ethereal orchid? Alright, that’ll be $17.51 with tax. Anything else I can help you with?"
"Actually..." the customer trailed off for a moment, in thought. "I read about your background before once I heard of you. With all your genetic work, have you ever done anything with bees?"
"With bees? No. I only study flowers."
"Sorry, that was worded poorly. What I meant was did you ever try to create a flower that supports bees? I’ve been studying colony collapse disorder, and at this rate, I’d do anything to keep bees alive and well."
"Colony collapse disorder?" Lily questioned. "I’m not familiar with it."
"Basically," the kalon explained, "it’s when a bunch of worker bees suddenly leave their colony, which is now ill-equipped to function like bee colonies do. We still don’t know what causes it, though there are a ton of theories. But having a flower for bees would help regardless, and it might even help to draw attention to the issue!"
"Wow. I never even knew this was happening, and it’s really important. Of course I’ll help."

Three months later

Summer was in full swing, and so was the activity in Lily’s flower shop. Though Lily was happy with all the attention she received from the customers, she was currently more focused on something else: today’s release of her newest flower! She had designed a hyacinth that was a little bigger, so it looked more like a bunch of small lilies smooshed together. When she put it in her backyard, bees seemed to love it just as much as any other hyacinth. But Lily could only hope that the flower would be unique enough to bring attention to the cause.
The night before, she had taken many of the plants out of her greenhouse and transferred them to the shop, carefully unloading them and placing each in a location that she believed would garner the most attention from customers. Over the past few months, she had come to love her newfound cause, and she would often buy books to read about it in her free time. She just wished with all her might that the customers would feel half as strongly as she did.
Soon, the "open" sign was flipped over, and Lily danced nervously behind the counter. One of the regulars walked in, an older man around the age of 70.
"Any new flowers, Lily?"
The young kalon practically squealed as she led him over to one of the new hyacinths, giving him her spiel on the bees. He stood silent for a moment, and Lily held her breath, desperately hoping that he’d be sympathetic to the cause.
Suddenly, he smiled. "What an accomplished and dedicated young lady you are! I’ll take five!"
And for the first time, Lily felt hope for the bees. She’d help fix this. She knew she would.

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[Olive;]

My Hometown

My hometown. For eighteen years, I lived there. I grew there. Most importantly, it was the reason I became the person I am today.
It was a small town in Oregon. Nobody really knew about it; I had to explain that it was in the southernmost part of the state. The scenery? Well, picture a beautiful forest, with spots carved out for houses and other buildings. A small creek ran through the middle of the town, and everyone loved to pass lazy summer days around it. It was framed by mountains, tall sentinels protecting our hidden city. A standard mountain retreat, you could say.
But these details were not what made our town notable. Nor was it the hospitality of the residents, or the diversity of the wildlife. It was something else entirely.
Our town was filled with windmills. They were scattered across the town like streetlights are in a metropolis. On our roofs were solar panels. The entire town ran off of green energy.
We were one of the first towns to be so invested in green energy, and this was partly due to being very close to a solar panel factory. Many of our residents had jobs there. But instead of working there, I went to college.
At college, I decided to pursue a marketing degree. Maybe, with this degree in hand, I could turn more people in the direction of green energy. Every solar panel or windmill made a difference.
I applied for a job at the same company that influenced my town so much. As luck would have it, they accepted me, though it certainly wasn’t a high level position. But I knew that this job was just like adding one solar panel to the world. Maybe it wouldn’t make a big difference, but it still made a difference, and that was what mattered.
I helped to launch an advertising campaign that was wildly successful! I felt like I was on top of the world. Each day I drove home from work, I’d notice more and more solar panels sprouting up. It made me glow with pride. I had made a difference, and no matter how small, it still helped the earth.

And now I’m here. At kamp. The stars are winking at me, and I can’t help but think how much they look like the starscape that blanketed my hometown on warm summer nights. I think back to all the time I spent there, learning about energy, and how to be green. A smile spreads across my face. I’m Nova Akash, and I’m a protector of the earth. I laugh a little bit at how cheesy it sounds, but in my heart, I know it’s the truth.

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[Olive;]

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[Olive;]

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Story Here

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[Olive;]

The Diary

College. It was closer than ever now; two weeks away. I sifted through my belongings, each item I owned telling a story. I don’t need to bring my old stuffed animals, I don’t need to bring any of my SAT study books. As I continued to sift through my drawers, I found a nondescript book. Huh, that’s odd. I don’t remember that at all! I flipped open the front cover. "Diana’s Diary," it stated in a second grader’s wobbly letters.
A tiny memory popped to the surface of my mind. June, third grade. The day we all chose our instruments. I excitedly flipped through the pages, trying to find the entry from that day. I stopped on a page littered with tiny music notes and treble clefs. Yep. This was it.

Dear Diary,

Today, we learned about all the instruments that we could play in band! First, Mr. Holland told us about the common instruments, and played a video of each for us.

Flute - Though I do love the beautiful sound of the flute, I can’t possibly bring myself to play it. There’s too much incessant giggling going on in there.
Clarinet - Clarinet has a really nice sound to it, as well! But I’m not sure it’s the right instrument for me.
Saxophone - No. Just... no.
Trumpet - The sound is too bright and piercing! I would rather play something darker.
Trombone - While every instrument has the opportunity to play something pretty, I don’t think trombone gets very many of these opportunities.

Then, he told us about the other instruments. These were only for people who were willing to devote a lot of time to practicing. I perked up. I loved taking piano lessons, so maybe one of these would be my perfect fit!
The first instrument he mentioned was the oboe. It's a double reed instrument, meaning that two reeds were placed against each other, and they vibrated to make a sound. As one of the most difficult instruments to learn, he told us to get private lessons if we chose oboe. Most importantly, he said, it was for bubbly but studious players who liked a challenge. Then, he played the quick video clip. I was only ten seconds into the video when I realized that this was the instrument for me. Nothing would stop me from playing it.

I sat with the diary in my lap, my mind off in the faraway land of the past. A smile crept onto my lips. So this was how it all began. I closed the diary carefully, and put it in the pile of things I was taking to college. I would need this for music conservatory. But it didn’t matter, anyway. The origin story that I had only recently recalled was now forever ingrained in my heart.

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Hobbies

Hobbies. Some of us have many, and others have few. When I think back to my high school career as an oboist, I can’t help but think of the event that started it all. That day, my oboe was no longer a hobby. It was my life.

"Honey, you’re never going to get a career as a musician. Your oboe gets you into college, and that’s it." I winced as my mom delivered the truth, but inside, I knew that she was right. It only made sense. I had to go to college, become a doctor, and maybe, if I was lucky, I could keep music in my life.
"Now go do your homework, and you can practice after you finish." A big stack of books welcomed me as I sat down at my desk. I really should get my homework done. My grades are especially important if I want to go on the band trip. My mind wandered as I thought about the excursion. We left for the festival in two days! All my idols were going to be there, from Anna Flores to Brett Whitney. I could hardly wait to see them all in person.

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Before I knew it, we were seated in the hall. Our director’s baton started to move, guiding us and showing us the meaning behind the music. There was nothing quite like this feeling I got when I played. With my instrument, I could go anywhere. I could soar over lush valleys, over sparkling seas. Through music, I could tell any story I wanted. All too quickly, the first movement ended, and our last note rang out through the hall. There was a rustling of music as people turned their pages, and then the director nodded at me. I took a deep breath and began my solo. As I played the bittersweet melody, I spoke of longing, loss, and even hope. My notes, sweet and clear, seemed to float above the soft trombone choir, in an ethereal moment. I was in a daze when I finished, and I played through the rest of the symphony on a high. Pride filled me when I stood up with the rest of the soloists, smiling broadly. After the final note of applause, we were led into the clinic room, where a judge came to critique us and help us fix issues with our performance.
When I entered the room, I could not believe my own eyes! Our clinician was none other than Anna Flores, the principal oboist for the LA Philharmonic!
"First of all, I’d like to congratulate everyone on a job well done. That was an excellent interpretation of the Giannini symphony! Though there were some technical issues throughout the piece, I really sensed the heart you all poured into it. You have bright musical futures!"
She flipped through the score, and picked out parts for us to work on. After our thirty minutes were up, she pulled me aside.
"I’ve never heard such young musical talent. Your solo was phenomenal! I know that I’ll be seeing more from you in the future." She pulled a method book out of her bag, and quickly scribbled down a note inside. It was her number. "If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. Us oboists have to stick together!" At a loss for words, I spat out an awkward thank you and a smile, and shook her paw. I couldn’t believe it! Someone thought that I had the potential to be a professional musician. From then on, I wouldn’t hold back. I would devote my entire life to music.

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I was hit by a wave of nostalgia, but this time, I was seated at the adjudicator's chair. This was the very same concert hall where I decided to follow my dreams. I didn’t regret a single thing. I now was the principal oboist of the San Francisco Symphony, and I got to play, teach, and even write wonderful music every day.
A lush soundscape filled my ears as the first band took the stage. An American Elegy. Frank Ticheli. I let myself get lost in the music, feeling the raw emotion that radiated from the band. Though my brain went through all the motions of adjudication, my heart was fully connected to the music. When I heard the young oboist play their solo, tears pricked my eyes. They reminded me of my young self. Passionate, but conflicted. Eventually, the piece ended, and I followed the band into the clinic room.
"Now, who knows about the reason this piece was written?"
A horn player answered, and we discussed the meaning of the song, taking the time to fix certain passages along the way. All too soon, our time in the clinic room was up, so I dismissed the band. They were young, filled with emotion and potential, truly a joy to work with.
"Wait!" I called after the oboe soloist. He turned around. "I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your solo! You truly have a bright musical future." I reached inside my purse, for I had come prepared. Grabbing the method book, I wrote my number on the inside cover, just as Anna did all these years ago. I extended the book to him, and he took it. "Call me if you need anything. Anything at all."
"Thank you. I promise I won’t let you down." The kalon took the book, shook my hand, and walked away, whistling his solo as he went.
I smiled to myself. I knew I’d see him again someday. Music is a funny thing. Where words fail, it speaks. And I knew that this kalon had something to say.

[Olive;]

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[Olive;]

Prosperity For All

"We are living in an age of prosperity for all!" The year was 2032, and a voice boomed over the stadium, part of the customary announcements before any sort of public event. It was October, but the heat still hung in the air like a guest that overstayed their welcome. Kalons settled into the stands, fanning themselves in a futile attempt to cool down before the big game. Even the athletes were lethargic, soaking up their last moments in the shade.
Namara Arriero, Commissioner of Energy, and the owner of the recorded voice, sat far away from the hot stadium. He reclined in his chair, enjoying the air conditioning and waiting for the next investor to enter the room. With a quick flick of his eyes, he glanced at his watch. Late. Bored, he pulled out his phone, scrolling through the day’s headlines.
October 18 Record High!
Sea Levels Expected to Rise 0.4 Inches Next Year
Erosion Displaces 500 Families
Namara rolled his eyes at the headlines. A frantic knocking rattled the door, and he pocketed his phone.
One slightly disheveled kalon in a suit greeted him at the doorway. Frantic words were exchanged, but the two kalons shook hands before going their separate ways.

"We are living in an age of prosperity for all!" 2045. The television interrupted their daily programming to remind viewers to be grateful. Kalons huddled in their apartments with their televisions on, trying desperately to escape the suffocating heat outside. There was not much time to rest between work shifts, but it would have been foolish to spend it anywhere but indoors. Even the air conditioning unit was at its limit. It emit whines of protest, as if it was going to quit its job at any moment.
Once again, Namara sat in her office. Stacks of bills awaited her review. Oil. Pipelines. Drilling. She industriously scribbled notes in the margins as a cool breeze danced around his office. The trade was simple, really. A lifetime of comfort, an escape from the increasingly hostile climate. And in return, she would protect oil.

2051. The recorded voice had vanished from the world after the revolution. No longer was it played at public events, nor on television screens, nor displayed on billboards. The only place it remained was Namara's head. "We are living in an age of prosperity for all." The lie, his very own lie, echoed in his head. His trade had backfired, and now he was stuck living as a commoner. He looked around the shabby apartment he now shared with two other kalons.
"I truly hate this wretched place!" he screamed, not particularly caring whether his roommates heard his tantrum. But he knew he didn’t have a choice, because without the apartment, he would have nothing. Exhausted by his own emotions and the blistering heat inside the apartment, he spread himself out on the floor, watching the world go by through the window. Kalons traversed the busy streets, making their way to gardens and workshops and factories, eager to rebuild their world.
As Namara observed the world below with the occasional self-pitying sniffle, one of his roommates, Lyndon, quietly slipped by, giving him a look of distrust. Their other roommate, Nova, warily walked over to Namara, and sat down beside him.
"How would you feel about gardening?"
Namara stared at him for a moment. "In the heat? I don’t think I could stand it."
Nova endured Namara's attitude. "Well, if you want to, I’ll be up on the roof." Namara didn’t respond, and turned his head back to he world below.

2052. The heat was still suffocating, but despite that, Namara was up on the rooftop with Nova. It had recently become their growing evening tradition. A comfortable silence stretched between the two kalons as they plucked weeds and tended to the rows of growing watermelons. Surprisingly, it was Namara that broke the silence.
"Did you always live like this?"
"Like this?" Nova questioned. "What do you mean?"
"I guess I never realized how small apartments really are. And the heat, and working constantly. It sounds awful."
"Well, this is how most people lived. And they still do. I think people are just happy to not have to work themselves to the bone just to get enough money to take care of themselves."
Namara paused to think for a moment. "I guess..." she trailed off. "I think I always knew that not everybody lived like me. But that didn’t matter. I was so focused on making more money, on keeping myself secure, that I didn’t stop to think about other people. And not only did I try desperately to cling to my way of life, I ruined this whole planet. Prosperity for all, indeed." She began to sob.
Nova sighed. "Look, Namara, I’m glad that you’re finally realizing your role in all of this. But feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to do anything. And frankly, it’s a bit insulting."
Namara avoided eye contact with Nova. "I think I need to go." She slinked back down the stairs, opening the apartment door and making a beeline for the window.
"I really am pathetic. I can’t even fix my own mistakes. All I can do is beat myself up over them. I’m even doing it now!" The kalon deflated, staring off into the distance.
Eventually, Nova made his way back to the apartment. Namara was silent a moment, building up the courage to speak. "I want to be able to help. Please tell me how I can help."
Namara could see the gears turning in Nova’s head as he pondered. "Well... I have been going to weekly city infrastructure meetings. We’re trying to rebuild our city to be more sustainable. We’re trying to build a new world. Maybe I can take you to the next one."
Despite himself, a hint of a smile glimmered on Namara's face. "Building a new world. Maybe... maybe we can even have prosperity for all."

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[Olive;]

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