The downfall of the Federation doesn’t come with explosions.
It doesn’t come with blood and ashes and destruction.
It doesn’t even come from anger.
It’s not rage, it’s not boiling blood and snarling mouths, it’s not swear words in multiple languages, it is not righteous outrage and the need to tear down the ones responsible for your suffering, it’s not carefully crafted plans, it’s not tearing down symbols or making statements, that ultimately makes the Federation falls.
The downfall of the Federation does not come from the Islanders.
Not directly at least, not in the way they all expected it to happen.
The downfall of the Federation is slow.
It starts with a barber shop.
It starts with giving a name to someone.
It starts with showing someone they could be more than “it.”
The downfall of the Federation starts with kindness.
When an Islander, mad by grief and hatred for the Federation, still gives a name for a worker who has nothing but his job. When his refusal is not met with anger and violence but with understanding and reassurances.
When an offer of something unknown is made.
What is friendship?
Friendship is caring.
Friendship is loving.
Friendship is laughter.
Friendship is a helping hand.
Friendship is not laughing at the unpleasant, back breaking, task of fixing what someone else broke. It’s acknowledging your hard work and praising you for it, is offering help even if said help is meaningless.
Friendship is answering questions with care.
Friendship is seeing someone, acknowledging their existence.
The Federation does not know what friendship is.
Oh they can give you the definition of the world, they can throw the word around as if they know what they are doing- But they don’t, because they don’t understand it.
(Friendship is not something perfect.)
Friendship is kindness.
And kindness spreads. Faster than fire, deeper and hotter than any explosion could dream off.
The workers see the Island.
They are the usually invisible forces building constructions and fixing messes, they are the ones making sure everything is perfect, that everyone is happy, that everything is in order.
But who cares for them?
The man with the wings who casually mentions they are welcome to take some of his avocado toast if they can feel hunger, who tells one of them once, careless like it’s nothing important, that he knows it’s not their fault, that they are not the ones they should blame.
The weird hybrid with the loud laughter who likes to look at them building, who will throw tips sometimes, who is never mean no matter how much he may laugh at them sometimes, what pranks he may play.
The inseparable duo who saw them as individuals before anyone else did, who help rebuild things others have destroyed, who are so clever, so kind, who never target them in their anger.
The kind janitor, who even if he never relaxes around them, if his shoulders are always tense and his eyes track their movements, always greets them, always insists on making small talk even if it means waiting for them to write.
The weird employee who looks like he wants to be anywhere but there, who looks at them like he understands, like he can see what they feel even if they don’t have faces, even if they cannot understand and name those broken parts themselves, who rages at the bear but never at them.
The Islanders as a whole.
The people who love and laugh and cry and suffer everyday in this Island, who in the middle of their worst moments can still find in themselves to show kindness, to propose friendship even if they know it will bring them nothing back.
The downfall of the Federation starts oh so very slowly, so subtly they don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late.
It happens with quiet rebellions, it happens when warp plates are left there, when books with important coordinates are dropped, when books with relevant information or warnings are left behind, when a building is built with hidden but there escape routes, when answers are given with as much clarity as they can.
It happens loudly sometimes too. With refusal to cause harm, with questions about why, about how they could do this or that, it comes with helping prisoners escape, it comes with antidotes being stolen and shared with those that deserve.
And when the reset happens, when their minds get scrambled and they go back to being nothing but mindless, faceless workers, it doesn’t matter.
Because time and time again kindness proves itself to be stronger. The Federation can wipe their memories a hundred times, they can do whatever they want to them and their minds, it is fruitless because they cannot stop the Islanders from being kind, from being good.
And it grows, and grows and grows until the Federation devours itself.
The downfall of the Federation doesn’t come from hate.
It comes from love.
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