Reno watched, rapturous, as the steel husks opened even wider, and the first few moths began to flutter into view, much to the gasps and murmurs of the audience.

For a few glorious moments, Reno watched the display with nothing but sheer wonder. Watching the silvery-black moths fill the air was extraordinary. It was the culmination of a promise turned tangible, the hope that one day Reno and his sister could save one of the planet's most precious resources: the very air itself.

He felt his lips curl into a wide, almost child-like grin of their own accord. It was hard to pull himself away from the view, the swirling clouds of silver, but he wanted to see Lila's reaction, to share in her joy.

And there, now he could see them: the tears that had been building up for a while had finally begun their descent, and Lila stood there, too absorbed to even wipe them off. Her expression transcended simple joy - it was the look of a drowning man who has been suddenly saved, the glorious shock of someone who has won the lottery. It was the kind of joy that made every problem encountered in a life seem meaningless, even silly.

It was Lila who noticed it first. Reno, still looking at her, saw the twist of her mouth, the furrowed brows. Like a snuffed-out candle, the pure, unashamed happiness was gone, replaced by a look of profound worry.

"Lila, what's wrong...?" Reno left the words hanging in the air as he followed her gaze and saw the first few moths drop out of the sky. For a sick moment he thought they'd keep falling until hitting the ground, but the moths caught the air again, hovering unsteadily above the ground. What had been impressive, even orderly arrangements of their creations moments ago had deteriorated into something chaotic. Lila was already shouting into her coms, but Reno simply stood and watched as the moths flew in circles, crashed into each other and nearby people, even latched on to the very shells that had once contained them.

"Reno!" Lila suddenly turned to him. "They're not moving into the atmosphere - I don't understand what's wrong! Why aren't they navigating?"

But Reno could only stare back helplessly. There was nothing wrong with their design, their functionality - there couldn't. The pair had to suddenly duck as a swarm of moths darted directly at them before turning wheeling around again. Reno remained crouched, low against the ground, even as Lila rushed off into the panicked crowd, the frantic scientists. After years of work, to be thwarted by some glitch in the moth's location systems? Suddenly, Reno was hit with a wave of apathy so strong that it nearly set him physically reeling. He was awfully tired, after everything; wanted to sleep, to let someone else figure out the world's problems for once. He looked up at the sky, shot through with violent swarms of black and silver. He wanted to tell his father he was sorry.

Reno flinched as something brushed against his leg, but looking down, he couldn't see anything. Then there it was again: almost a tickling sensation against his skin. For a split-second, curiosity left his mind blank, and he reached into his pocket to retrieve the suddenly active, fluttering moth within. He stared at the thing. He blinked, then kept staring. It was not the same moth that he'd taken from the lab.

It was larger, for one, and alive. Unlike the others, its body was delicate flesh and blood, covered with a downy fuzz. Reno was drawn to the patterns that adorned its wings: they were not tar-black, but a natural, wet-dirt brown, splotched and streaked with shadows. Reno stared at it for a moment longer. Then slowly, with a newfound calm, he lifted his hand towards the heavens.

The moth fluttered its wings once, twice, before taking off, floating off towards the edges of the volcano's peak. As Reno watched, the other moths seemed to calm, to abandon their jerking, erratic flight pattern. Soon there was a river of silver above his head, slowly flowing. Like a gentle farewell, it disappeared into the clouds that encircled them.