"What are you doing!?" We broke the trance that we had encaptured ourselves in. For a moment I relaxed from the voice that had prevented what he was going to do. "Luan, what was that I was just seeing you do now?" I got off of him, crawling onto the stairs and slumping down. My eyes traveled to the new voice in the room with curiosity. "I was not doing anything Lona, I don't know what you are talking about." It was a girl about the same age my guess as the male. She was remarkably beautiful. She had long cascading white hair that was twisted into the loose but neat braid. Her skin was as black as the night sky in a forest with no light. She wore a white pair of white pants, over her entire top -and most of her legs- she had on a baby pink knit poncho sweater. She had on a pair of tall golden boots that had stilettos heels with had tips of white. She moved swiftly with grace, and ease. Luan got up onto his feet and bowed, "I swear." I paid no mind to what they were even talking about as I admired the girl... Well, I guess I shouldn't say girl, I should say woman. "Your lying to me." She took quick strides over to Luan and stared at him. She looked angry with him for some reason. Looking at her closely, she had the same pointed ears as Luan. It was present that she had the same blue-grey eye color in her eye, but it was in the opposite eye. In her other eye was this light yellow color it was like looking into a small star on a dark night. Her angered face turned into one of happiness and she took a step back. "Aah, why bother getting angry at you when we both know you only lie the most then." She pulled off her knitted poncho and threw it up into the air. There were shining particles that surrounded it, with a warm flow of air it moved through the air with ease. The poncho landed on a chair like it was placed there by human hands. That relived what was underneath the baby pink poncho. It was nothing to be excited about, just a yellow shirt that matched the tip of her stilettos. "So who is he?" She pointed over to me with a curious look on her face. Luan turned his head to face me as I got up on my feet. "Lona, this is Ash." I gave her a smile and stepped down the golden steps, standing next to Luan. Then, I reached out my hand to her, "Nice-" "I see what you were doing just now Luan." Lona hissed at Luan and glared at me from the corner of her eyes. "He is a human." Luan let out a loud laugh and shook his head. When he was done laughing he composed himself then cleared his throat. "I think your time in the top has made you go paranoid, he is not a human. He is just a fieldland elf that needs to learn to tap into his power." She scoffed, "Really? You think I am going to believe that he is a fieldland elf? Brother, you are really something else." Her hand began to have this aura glow around it. "Where ever you found him, take him back. He is a human and both know that." She spat out, her voice beginning to echo off the high ceiling of the ground treehouse. "Sister, I am not going to fight you over this. But he can't get home and I wanna help him get there." Luan moved to stand in front of me with a protective stance. 'They are brother and sister?' I thought to myself briefly. Lona's mood completely changed, the glowing aura around her hand disappeared. "Oh, so you're trying to get him back?" Luan nodded his head, "Yeah." She gave him a small smile then patted his shoulder. Luan didn't smile back at her, all he did was watch what she did. "Use, your fire magic on my arm and I'll report you for treason." Lona pulled her hand away from his shoulder, "Your the one who would be charged for treason, not me." She stepped back and walked over to the chair that her poncho was laying on. She picked it up, "Well, If you were a real elf then I would have stayed to get to know you. But, I don't wanna be in the company of a human and get questioned about it by the high council." She pulled the baby pink poncho over her head and looked back at Luan, "I came to see you because the council got word that you were in the healer with an unknown creature. For once I thought you had a secret mate that had gotten hurt, but alas, that was not the case. How disappointing you are to me." And with that, she was gone in the blink of an eye. "You don't even have a mate yourself, Lona." He muttered through gritted teeth. I took a small step back and walked around him. "...What happened just now?" I didn't look up at him or anything, I just looked down at my hands which were holding each other. After a moment of silence, there was a loud sigh. "My 'oh so great and mighty' sister showed up rub something in my face probably. Possibly something about being on the elf council or something about a new mate she has. I don't even wanna know when it comes to a pain in my side like her." I looked up at him and laughed, "She is that bad?" He nodded, I watched this little piece of hair bounce up and down when he did so. It was really quite cute. "Thanks for telling me there was a piece of hair in my face." I watched him run a hand through his black hair making it even more of a mess than before. I looked down becoming flustered with my thoughts, "You can never keep your thoughts to yourself can you?" He placed a hand on my head and patted it softly, "Haven't we already established that?" I back away and looked up at him. "Yep." He smiled softly, then he reached down and grabbed my hand gently. "Since you are going to be staying with me for a little while, you should get acquainted with someone who is very special to me." He turned around and started walking up the golden stairs, he held my hand tighter than before the more and more we got ascended. As he climbed higher I could hear the low rumble of what seemed like a snore. "Please stay quiet." He said in a whisper as he pulled me around him. There was a huge red velvet curtain that hung in front of us, "Now, open it." I nodded slowly and placed my hand above where his hand was, where I slowly pulled open the curtain. Behind the curtain was an animal that was at least fifty times the size of a polar bear. I stared in awe at the creature who was a beautiful shade of midnight blue. It was a bird. Slowly, Luan pulled me into the room behind him and the curtain closed behind us leaving us in a dimly lit room with the giant bird. Even in the darkness, you could see white twinkles flicker off of its body like a million stars. "Coco... Sweetie, wake up." I could feel the loud vibrations of the snores stop. Then there was a movement in front of me and Luan, "Hi little sleepy girl, how was your nap?" Luan spoke in a cooing voice that dripped with sweetness. There was a small chirp, and then a louder one. "I am going to turn the lights on now." When they came on I was blinded by them, the room was just dark and my eyes had already adjusted. I covered my eyes with my hands which pulled Luan closer to me and I didn't even notice. When I put my hand down I then noticed how much closer I pulled him, I opened my mouth to speak but he covered it with his hand and shook his head. There was a loud chirp and I looked over, my eyes almost popped out of my eye sockets. It was even more amazing in the light. Her head was littered with white, black, and glowing blue feathers. She had a rounded beak like an eagles that was white. Her body was mostly black with the exception of the glowing blue feathers and little white twinkles. She looked like her body was trapped in a consolation. "Luan, why do you always wake me up when I am having the best dreams?" The bird is talking?! THE BIRD IS TALKING!? "Oh? You brought me a visitor this time?" I took a step back as her huge head got closer and closer to me. I could hear Luan laugh quietly, "I did, but he isn't used to seeing creatures like you Coronitha (coro-neath-a)." I watched as she moved her head away from me, then she curled up into a ball. Her head rested on the floor, "Luan, bring him over here and have him touch my head." The black-haired male pulled me over to her and forced me to touch her head right in between the dark purple orbs she had for eyes. She moved her head away, "He is not human. There is not a single shred of magic in his body." She didn't sound mean about it, she sounded very calm. Moving her head closer to me she rubbed against my face with the soft flat part of her head. "He seems nice though. Are you keeping him? Does he have a name I can call him?" I let go of Luan's hand and wrapped my arms around her head. I felt my feet start to get pulled off of the ground and two hands get placed on my waist. I let go of the giant bird, my body was softly placed onto the ground but then I was pulled into a back hug. "His name is Ashton, but we are going to introduce him as Ash because it sounds like an elf name. He is a human who appeared here and they don't know how they got here. All I am trying to do is get him back home but with the snowstorm outside and the fact that I have to help him with everything it will take a while." Luan rested his chin on my shoulder as he leaned on me. "Mm, that makes more sense. Well, you know I am always here when you need help." I looked down at the ground, "Now get out, I need my sleep." There was a cold swirl of wind and the fires went out. "What are we going to do?"


“Is the AC on the fritz again?” “I wouldn’t know. Power’s out.” “What?” I felt sweat dripping down my back. No air conditioning was not what I wanted to hear. There was too much work to do, and the room was already stifling in the early morning hours. “Yeah. Seems like someone didn’t pay the electric bill.” Carol looked at me square in the eye, hands on her hips. Was she daring me to argue that fact? “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Call them. Use my credit card.” “Are you sure, boss?” “I’m sure. Hurry, please. Maybe we can salvage the day. Anything in the fridge we need to throw out before the stink of rot fills the air?” “I don’t think there was anything in the fridge at all since last weekend.” “At least nothing got spoiled. Come on, let’s start unpacking.” I went outside to the open van and began pulling boxes out while I heard Carol on the phone shouting “Representative”. I laughed despite myself. I just won’t look at the credit card statement. That would be next month’s problem. *** After putting the last can of peas and carrots on the shelf, I stepped back to survey the room. Not good, I sadly admitted to myself, not good at all. I sighed, reaching for the “Two Items From Each Shelf” sign. I would have to find a way to get more donations by next weekend. Too many hungry families counted on us, and this meager selection wouldn’t do. My thoughts went to Freddy and his crew, and I felt the familiar anger rising. Working to beat the system, they made the rounds of food pantries as if their career. Hoarding and returning our precious donations for store credit gave them free beer and cigarettes. To outsmart their con, my staff used a thick sharpie to cover the bar codes. Such a waste of time and energy, I thought for the millionth time. However, other than the internal chastising and the black marker, my hands were tied. “Boss, want me to unpack the clothes?” Carol glanced over at the black garbage bags near the door. “Looks like we got a lot dropped off this week.” “Yes, please. Check for hangers in the back. Otherwise just fold everything neatly on the table.” I allowed Carol to think the bags were dropped off, donated by locals. I wished it were true but even that had dwindled down to almost nothing. She didn’t need to know I went thrifting during the week meticulously picking out the best for the least, searching for the half price tags, and using my senior discount. New clothes are always a treat, even those gently used. Having options to wear to the office or an afternoon in the playground could mean the difference between going out and staying in feeling unworthy. The door opened making my heart skip a beat for we weren’t ready yet. I was relieved to see Erica with her flushed face juggling the brown paper bags. “Sandwiches made already?” I asked my friend. “Nope. No time. I got the goods, though.” She unpacked the white bread along with the peanut butter and strawberry jelly. I started the production line ending it with the saran wrap and sign reading “Help yourself to two sandwiches.” Wincing at our frugality, I knew we had no choice. I couldn’t ask Erica to give any more as she and her children were frequent visitors to our pantry. A revolving door for her, she gave what she could and then had to take what was left at the end. My heart ached every Sunday while she looked longingly around the room as dinner time drew near. “Ready, ladies?” I gave one more look around, wiped my forehead and took a sip of water. The electricity was back on whirring happily, but it would take more than a minute to cool off the room. Feeling a bit dizzy from the heat and exertion, I hoped for the stamina to get through the day. I said a silent prayer and opened the door to the masses. Freddy and crew pushed their way in first as per usual, filling their bags to the point of overflowing. My polite little sign didn’t stand a chance against their greed. Maybe next week I would have the energy to stop them, but for now I was just grateful when they left. The last thing I needed was doubt creeping in to question my efforts as I focused on staying positive. “Good morning! How was your treatment this week?” I slipped a new headscarf into Evelyn’s bag, the cornflower blue the same shade as her beautiful eyes. “Doctor says it’s going well,” the older woman smiled warmly as she began filling up her tote bag. I motioned to Maria waiting patiently at the door that it was okay for her to come in. Eager to hear how her new job was going, her smile told me everything I needed to know. It wouldn’t be long before her visits would slow down and eventually end as she got back on her feet. Harry entered, passing Evelyn on her way out. His eyes had the same haunted look week after week. Time would eventually soften the tragedy, but for Harry the loss of his son was still raw. He walked through the maze of shelves as if in a trance allowing Carol to pick out his weekly groceries. Glancing back at the door I gasped to see the young woman in the tattered t-shirt enter. It had been weeks since her last visit, her absence leaving me optimistic. The mounds of makeup on her cheek shattered that hope, as did the angry bruises on her upper arm. Trying to meet her gaze proved impossible as I stepped back giving her the space that she needed. What can I do to help? I felt their desperation although I did not know their stories. What led to their poverty was irrelevant, the goal was to lead them out of it. The line was long, and the shelves were emptying at a faster pace than I was comfortable with. I quickly replaced my polite signs with the large poster from the back room. “Please take one item from each shelf” which would hardly fill their bags even halfway. I would have to go back to basics, cold calling the larger stores seeking donations. Perhaps I could push the boundaries by contacting stores from several towns over. “Mommy, look! Crayons,” the sweet little voice interrupted my business planning. I turned to see a mother and child at the “Back to School” table I had set up. The cutouts of yellow school buses saved from last year and the year before made for a cheerful display. “Honey, don’t touch,” the young mother scolded, her face pale despite the warm summer day, her clothes baggy and somewhat stained. “It’s okay,” I quickly jumped in. “Are you getting ready for school? Let me guess, are you going to college?” “Nooo,” the little girl giggled, “I’m going to kindergarten. My teacher’s name is Mrs. Gordon. Right, Mommy?” As her mother softly responded, I made a mental list of what they could use. New to the pantry, I wanted to make sure they had a good experience and would return when necessary. Their comfort was top priority. “Erica, bring out a backpack, please,” I called out. We had received a small quantity of backpacks filled with classroom essentials which were hidden away from greedy hands. This little girl was special, the sparkle in her eye was still shining. Let’s keep it that way, I thought, glancing at her mother’s weary expression. Let’s hold onto that joy for as long as possible. Watching the little girl skip away with her backpack on her small body I was reminded why we fight the good fight. The Freddy and crew of the world would always be there with their greed and cunning ways, but there would only be one first day of kindergarten.


Maisy Turntrap was washing her hands as meticulously as she had massaged the giant shoulder roast she was preparing with her special dry rub. When her phone signaled there was a call, she quickly wiped her hands before crossing the small kitchen to see who it was. The Caller ID indicated it was her daughter . "Hello. Janna?" "Hi, Momma. I have a slight change in plans." "Oh. Are you still coming?" "Oh yes, I'll be there, and I'm bringing a friend." "Well, that's fine, Dear. Who . . ." "You'll see. Let it be a surprise. Be there soon!" Maisy stared at the phone in her hand for a few extra seconds and then lay it back on the counter. ****** The doorbell rang promptly at six. Janna tended to be very punctual when there was the promise of one of her mother's Sunday dinners awaiting. She had grown up, so it would seem, in a Norman Rockwell painting, the dinner table always brimming with food, a picture perfect setting every time. Tonight was to be no exception. She was soon enveloped by the warm, succulent aromas emanating from the kitchen. "It smells so good in here!" Maisy let her husband of 32 years, Gill, answer the door. Hearing her daughter's voice, she wiped her hands yet again on her worn, though favorite, apron - a gift Janna had made for her when she'd learned how to sew in 4-H so many years before. She took a step toward the front foyer, but when there came a second voice she suddenly recognized, she snapped back, listening. "Goodness me, sir, what an honor and downright pleasure it is to see y'all again!" Oh, no. Lord Jesus, it just couldn't be. Maisy had no idea that Janna might be back in touch with that irresponsible lout. No wonder she hadn't told her mother who her companion was going to be over the phone. Maisy would have cancelled the dinner right then and there, and probably gone looking for the shotgun. "Oh, Daddy, I just knew you and Momma wouldn't mind me bringing Chance by tonight. Can you believe, after all this time, we found each other again! We'll tell you and Momma all about it but we just wanted to surprise you." "Well, now, it's fine by me, Honey." Gill Turntrap then glanced toward the kitchen, warily. "Your momma, on the other hand . . ." At that, Maisy took a deep breath and slapped on a smile. "Well, now, I thought I heard a voice I recognized. Janna . . . and Chance. Hello. Well, it's been a long time, hasn't it?" She turned a flash of an all too familiar "what are you doing" expression toward Janna, and then quickly returned her attention to the young man who by now was looking a little unsteady on his feet. Chance McCaldry was Janna's high school sweetheart. He'd won Janna over completely in those days, mainly due to, surmised Maisy, he probably reminded Janna of one of her strays, the under-dogs (or cats, or rabbits, or birds, and once - most memorably and catastrophically - a skunk) that she could never turn away, lest her heart should break. Now, the animals Maisy could abide - even Stinky, the skunk. Chance, she could not. It was not a matter of her wanting only the best for her daughter; she would be glad for someone of substance that Chance, clearly, was not. He had proven that time and time again. In her eyes he was slow, he was simple and not capable of providing for himself, much less a family. And the final damning act that, to Maisy, exposed his total lack of honor and commitment, he'd broken off with Janna in their senior year of high school, claiming he was not cut out for college life and preferred to remain at home, help out on his family's farm, and that he would not hold Janna back from a better life than he would ever be able to give her. The calamitous impact of this decision on the Turntrap family was distinct and lasting, though affected each member differently. Maisy was quick to judgment. Well, and didn't this just prove what she'd known all along. He'd taken advantage of their impressionable, loving little girl and was now ready to look elsewhere, not giving a thought to her feelings. Well, fine and good riddance. Gill Turntrap was a man of few words. It made sense for him to let Maisy do most of the talking, since that was how it had been for as long as he could remember anyway. He was a hard-working man. He had held a job managing one of the most successful and well known cattle farms in the county. Besides, by the end of a long workday, he was content with a hot meal and mostly Maisy for entertainment. He had yet to find her "off" button, if she had one, so he would patiently wait for her to start clearing the dishes following another one of her wonderful dinners, to retire to his "office" where he kept his books, his desk that once belonged to his own father, and a bottle of Jim Beam he kept in the right bottom drawer for select occasions. He was, indeed, a very content man. He adored his only daughter. He would, each morning, quietly crack open her bedroom door to have a look at her, sleeping peacefully, before he left for work. He'd only missed a few milestones of her life because of work-related emergencies. The annual calving time for a farmer was akin to tax time for an accountant, but he treasured each memory he had of Janna along the way and held them close to his heart, right next to Maisy's meals. When Janna announced to them that Chance had decided they should break up, Gill was not altogether surprised. He knew Chance's father was struggling to keep his land profitable. He recognized in the simple, modest boy a good heart. He was good to his younger brothers and looked out for them. Gill decided that the best thing for him to do, as her father, was to look out for Janna. This type of situation would need to play itself out. Janna, of course, was devastated at first. Gradually, she came to see that what Chance had done had been a selfless act, a sacrifice he was willing to make so that his family wouldn't suffer by his absence, and she wouldn't suffer by his remaining home and asking her to give up her dream of attending college. And so, in the long run, it made her love and admire him even more, and though in time her heart did heal, she'd always keep a small piece of him there. He was the gauge by which she measured every boyfriend she had after that, and she largely remained unattached throughout most of the four years she spent away at college, and then the additional four she spent in grad school, studying to become a veterinarian. She found she needed all the energy she had to devote to her studies, and that left little spare time for dating. When her graduation came, Gill was there. He would not have missed this tremendous milestone in his daughter's life for anything in the world. Janna joked with him that if graduation had taken place during the calf-birthing season, she would have arranged her own ceremony to take place in the barn with all the moaning mommas and bleating babies in place of the Graduation March. She had lived her dream. Now it was time for her real life to begin, and she was ready. Maisy was so proud of her hard working family. Her greatest gift and contribution was cooking. She poured her heart and soul into the dishes she prepared and served to those she loved. She came from a long line of ladies who knew how to satisfy a working man's appetite, as well as their need for strength, good health and endurance. She was somewhat surprised to hear Janna was coming back to work as a veterinarian's assistant in one of their neighboring towns, but she was also thrilled to have her daughter nearby. Maybe eight years had been enough time spent at a big city university and she'd come to appreciate the strong traditions and simple ways of her upbringing. But now, here Janna was, back in the arms of her betrayer. He had somehow wormed his way back into their lives and Maisy wasn't having it. She didn't have a plan yet, but she'd have to come up with something. Her first and immediate task was to survive this dinner, to break bread with the man who had ruined her daughter's life once and was sure to do it again. To think he was about to devour and undoubtedly have the unmitigated gall to enjoy and gush over her love-infused table full of beautiful food that had never been intended for him to even look at, much less . . . "Golly, Ms. Maisy, I don't believe I'm overstating things to say I have never forgotten what a great cook you are and those meals you used to serve us kids. The smell of this place just brings it all back!" Chance bounced forward, grabbed Maisy by the shoulders and gave her a loud smack on the cheek. She backed up, quickly giving Chance an awkward smile. then, in a shaky voice while gesturing to the dining room, managed, "Why don't we all sit down." ****** Maisy had never felt so alienated at her own table. Chance, that interloping cad, had brought wine, a bottle of wine! Gill was drinking some! This wasn't Christmas! When she had declined a pour, Janna actually giggled and said, "More for us then!" Everyone, except Maisy, had laughed. Just what had Maisy missed? Since when had her family turned alcoholic? She began to say something about it to Gill, her expression already speaking volumes, but Gill's expression managed to trump hers, and he raised the bar by squeezing her hand under the table. For the first time she could remember, she was at a loss for words and spent the remainder of the meal feeling cowed and alone. Later that evening, as she was washing a sink-full, Gill came up behind her and gently spoke in her ear. "You all right?" She hesitated and then resumed her scrubbing and wiping. Gill found a dishtowel and took a wet plate from her hand. "You feel like talking?" What Maisy had witnessed at the dinner table had already convinced her she was outnumber on this, whatever "this" was. She knew if she confided to Gill what was truly on her mind at that moment, he'd try to talk her out of it and it would just be a colossal waste of time. "Oh, there's nothing to talk about, Gill. I just want to see our Janna happy." "That's what we all want. Always have." Gill could see that Maisy had more on her mind but, when she did not respond right then, he decided to leave it there. He patted her sudsy hand, smiling warmly before taking his leave to join his books. He wouldn't be opening the desk drawer tonight. He was plenty warm enough. Maisy stared out the kitchen window at the clear, star-filled sky and lost herself in thought. By the time she had flicked off the bathroom light and climbed into bed, she had a plan. ****** The college football championship was scheduled for 1:00. The kids were due to arrive any minute. Gill had been called to work for a sudden emergency. Some of the cows he was responsible for had broken free of the electric gate and were now making a buffet out of the owner's vegetable garden. And so, Gill had his hands full and would get back as soon as he could. When the doorbell rang, Maisy held her breath for a second, looked around at all she had accomplished. She had stayed up half the night preparing. She wiped her hands on her apron with a knowing smile and approached the front door with determination in her step. She opened the door and backed away to let the grinning couple enter the foyer. Janna hugged Maisy. "Oh Momma, it smells better than ever!" Chance then took his turn and wrapped his long arms around Maisy and exclaimed, "Ms. Maisy, looks like you've been at it again. I hardly feel worthy." Maisy held her own grin a little too long before saying, "So glad you're here. Give me your coats, go get comfortable in the playroom. The game's about to start." The playroom was the only room in the house with a television. It had a couch with chairs on either side. The smaller coffee table had been replaced with a larger, round game table that was laden with plates of food. There were bowls of homemade pita chips with various dips. There were mounds of chicken wings, plates of cheese, platters of homemade bread, still warm, with giant tubs of assorted butters. "Wow. Who else is coming?" Janna looked at Maisy with mild astonishment. "Who's going to eat all this?" "I'll start!" Chance couldn't take his eyes off the table. Saying a quick grace, he turned a happy face to mother and daughter and then gave his full attention to the incredible display before him. "Don't forget, there's more where that came from!" Maisy gestured for Janna to sit. "Let me get us some drinks first. Be right back." Chance was busy designing the perfect plate of football food. He never even looked up. "Momma, what's going on?" They were back in the kitchen where Maisy had pitchers of iced tea and lemonade and tall frosted glasses at the ready. "How do you mean?" "I know you, you know. I've known you my entire life. You don't exert this kind of energy on a meal unless it's a holiday or a really big event. Your meals are always exceptional, Momma, but this is way beyond. What are you up to? Is it just going to be the four of us?" "Of course, sweetheart. I haven't really been fair to Chance, I know that. This, I suppose, might be looked at as an apology of sorts. Humor me?" Janna stared at her mother, narrowed her eyes and, as a suspicious and equally playful grin crossed her lips, leaned forward and gave Maisy a peck on the cheek. She whispered. "Just know I'm keeping my eye on you." Maisy fluttered her eyelashes at her daughter, then turned to check on something in the oven. ****** "Come and get it!" Chance was first to the dining room. It was set up in grand buffet style. Here was everything Chance enjoyed, laid out as if for royalty. There was a platter of ham steaks, chicken thighs, turkey legs, shaved beef for sandwiches, more homemade bread and biscuits, waffles and cheesy grits. There were bowls heaped with mashed potatoes and sausage gravy, ears of buttered corn, candied yams, green bean casserole. And, of course, macaroni and cheese, baked beans and collard greens. "Ms. Maisy, I am speechless!" Maisy smiled warmly. "Here, take a plate and help yourself." As Chance and Janna took inventory of the table before them, Gill came through the door, looking tired. He gaped at the mountain of food on the table and then at Maisy. He guided her quietly to the side and whispered. "Just what are you up to?" "And what makes you think that I'm up to anything?" Gill gave Maisy a look she knew meant give it up, you have nowhere to hide. She smiled. "I decided to try to be nice, that's all." "You could kill him with this amount of . . ." Gill looked at his wife. "So, that's it. You're going to kill that poor boy with kindness!" "Now, Gill, stop it. No one's ever . . . " "Arrrrrgh!" They were interrupted by an agonizing groan that was then followed by a loud crash and thud as Chance, along with his plate of food, fell to the floor. "Chance!" ****** Maisy and Gill sat in the waiting room, staring into space. Gill was looking straight ahead with a blank expression. Maisy was deep in her own thoughts, drowning in speculation. What have I done? Just then, Janna rushed over to them from the direction of Chance's hospital room. She was breathless. "You'll never guess! His appendix burst! He's in surgery now, but he should recover just fine. The doctor said we got him here just in time." She flopped heavily into the chair next to her mother. "What I really wanted to say was he had food poisoning." "Janna, that's not funny." Maisy was close to tears. "Well, so have you suffered enough?" "Can you both forgive me?" Gill was stifling a bit of laughter. "Honey, had that boy not known when to to say when to his own detriment, I might have had to admit you were right about him." "Well, I'm just glad now I'm not. Right about him, I mean." Janna looked at her mother. "And so what finally convinced you?" Maisy sighed. "The expression on your face when that boy collapsed. I never want to see you look that way again." "You mean that was all it took?" Maisy was laughing and crying and then laughing again. It felt wonderful. She got up suddenly and began to leave. Her husband said, "Where are you going?" "Home. I need to prepare something special for Chance. He'll be hungry when he wakes up." "But, Momma . . ." Gill watched Maisy again turn to leave, tears in her eyes and a smile on her face. "Let her go, Honey. Let her go." THE END Susan Erickson Catucci September 7, 2022


It was a dark and stormy night. Snow shot from the sky, already gathering in large piles. The wind howled like a lone wolf in the darkness. No one in their right mind would be outside on a night like this. In the wind, snowflakes transformed from fluffy cloud pieces to sharp ice daggers. One single figure fought its way through the unforgiving weather. Dressed in thick layers of wool, it moved slowly, working its way Where was it going? The figure squinted its eyes, barely visible through scarves wrapped around its head. A light. Far away in the distance, flickering like a dying match. A long way to go yet. A man or a woman? A woman. She wrapped her clothes tighter around her and battled her way through the storm. Her eyes, peering out through a sliver in her scarves were teary from the wind. The tears froze into small lumps and stuck in her eyelashes. Despite her warm clothes, the wind had seemed to find its way into her bare skin. Her feet started to get numb and toes felt like ten blocks of ice that would never be warm again. She took a sip of hot coffee. A tad too dramatic. And it has been done before, about a million times. A lone woman in a snowstorm? No. This story was going nowhere. It only made her want to wrap her own legs in a warmer blanket. She decided to start over. Once upon a time Definitely not. She sighed and shifted in her seat. This was a lot harder than she remembered. What on earth was she doing? That annoying man who nonchalantly had told her “writing is just like riding a bike” appeared before her eyes and she decided if she ever saw him again she would punch him in the face. This was the opposite of riding a bike. If anything, it was like learning to ride a bike and then suddenly being thrown into a plane and told to fly it. Just one scene. If she could just write one scene today, that would be enough. And then one or two scenes tomorrow. Before she knew it, she would be back in the game and writing every day. And even make a little money from it. Yes, after all, all it took was one great story and she could be set for life. Move into a beautiful apartment with a view of the park... Quit the job she hated so intensely... Yes. The writing life would fit her perfectly. She just had to get the writing part down. Okay. Let’s try again. Start with the character this time. No snowstorm. Just her, and then take it from there. Who is this woman? What does her face look like and what are her deepest regrets in life? What brings her happiness? She forced herself to see the woman again. The woman inside a room. She is no longer wearing layers upon layers. She is wearing normal clothes: black jeans and a beige turtleneck. Yes, good. Now look at me. What is your name? My name? Yes. My name is... Isabella? No, that name is overused lately. Thanks a lot, Twilight. Okay... How about Sandra? No, I don’t like it. Well, what do you want my name to be? It doesn’t really matter. Just anything you can come up with that sounds right. Mary? Amanda? Veronica? Clair? No... I think your name is Eve. Yes, Eve. Eve rolls her eyes. Hey, don’t you show attitude to me! It’s not my fault all of the names you came up with are the same as all my old classmates I hated! Eve’s facial features change and she looks as if she is explaining something incredibly simple to an incredibly stupid person. She does not have to open her mouth to communicate. Her words are: Whatever name is in my head is there because you put it there. Okay let’s just call that one a Freudian slip and move on. And don’t you dare say you only came up with my old classmates’ names because deep down I wish to write a best-seller and show all my old bullies how fantastic and successful I am. Eve smiles quickly to herself before getting lost in her own thoughts. She is sitting on a chair in an empty room. She has long, luscious hair reaching down her slender figure. She has a pretty face, but not so pretty that she is not relatable. And she is smart. Smart enough to make readers look up to her and want to be like her. But not too smart so people will find her pretentious. She looks put together on the outside, but something is not right on the inside. She is hiding something. A great pain. Her legs are crossed and she is unconsciously tapping her foot in the air. Oh. What are you stressed about, Eve? Are you waiting for a phone call? What’s been hurting you? Shall we take a look around the room? The room is no longer empty. She is sitting on a grey couch, looking out of a window, as if lost in thought. The walls in the room are painted a calm cream colour and the pictures on it reflect the city the room is in. There are large, expensive looking windows on the opposite wall. Through them, a park can be seen with children playing. Instead of lush greens, the trees are naked, looking skeletal and pathetically skinny. In front of Eve and the couch is a carpet with a table, and generic, month-old lifestyle magazines scattered on top, as if someone deliberately tried to make them look thrown on there. Is she sitting in a waiting room? Over at the reception desk, a girl is sitting by a computer. She keeps looking down at something, a hidden phone maybe, and every now and then her face will break into a smile. Who is this girl then? Reception Girl is sitting and texting at work. Normally she is not allowed to have her phone on her during work hours, but today she gave herself permission. She was up all night, fighting with her long distance boyfriend over the phone. They almost broke up. Today, they are kind and loving to each other. They promised each other to prioritise one another and give it a real shot this time. There has only been one visitor all morning, and she came in one whole hour early to her appointment. Reception Girl looks over at Eve. It does not look like she minds. In fact, it looks like the waiting woman has no idea she is not alone in the room. What are you thinking about, Eve? Eve is only half aware there is another person in the room with her. Something about all of this does not feel... right. Eve was only half aware there was another person in the room with her. Yes, better. Reminder to self: change everything to past tense later. It flows much more naturally and feels more comfortable. Eve had slept badly last night and had nightmares. Visions of dark suits and evil faces stained her sleep. She had once woken up, bathing in her own sweat, absolutely sure she had slept through her alarm and missed the appointment. That had been at 3 a.m. She felt fragile, as if one person bumping into her on the train would shatter her into a thousand pieces. The tragic death of her whole family had Oh no, no I can’t write this. This is so sad. I’m sorry, Eve. Eve’s head tilted to one side. Her eyes were teary and red, but her expression said: “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” I’m your writer. I made you. Of course it’s my fault. You didn’t make me. I'm a part of you. Some of your memories will be mine, and some of your fantasies will be reality to me. All you're doing is isolating me and shaping me into my own identity. And now I’m sitting in this waiting room for some reason. Can you tell me what I am waiting for? I’m awfully nervous. Whatever you are, you are far wiser than I am. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t know what you are waiting for. A lawyer maybe? But why would you need a lawyer, Eve? Eve’s head shot up as she heard footsteps from the very end of the corridor, coming closer. Whoever the source was had a confident, determined stride and was heading right towards the waiting room. On cue, the girl in the reception quickly put away her phone and straightened her back. A really fancy dentist? A job interview? A private investigator? Some kind of doctor? The steps stopped for a brief moment and the door swung open. A man dressed in an expensive suit stood before them. He was in his forties, well-groomed and had friendly eyes. His gaze turned to Eve and he smiled politely at her. “Eve?” he said, and his voice was calm and suggested they had never met before. Eve nodded nervously and tried to reciprocate his smile. “We’re ready for you now.” The man stepped aside, holding the door open for her and gestured with his arm for her to go inside before him. Eve stood up and wiped her hands on her jeans, trying to make it look like she was just dusting them off. She stepped towards the man, nodded and smiled again briefly, and then walked into the corridor. This appointment would soon be over, she told herself. And then, the rest of her life would start. She continued through the corridor towards the only open door, right at the end. Her steps echoed slightly. She braced herself for what was to come as the man closed the door behind her. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, refusing to move. What was going to happen next? Her mind was crowded with ideas, but all of them felt just out of reach. She couldn’t stop now. It was a good start. Dramatic. A best-seller in the making. She stood up from her chair and stretched her stiff legs. Time had flown by faster than she had realised. She needed more coffee, and maybe a quick lunch, and then back to the story, she promised herself. She didn't want to keep Eve waiting for too long.


I sense his presence before I ever lay eyes on him. It doesn't surprise me, really. Baph is the type of entity who always enters announced . He is the syncopated tap of stiletto heels that echoes across a tile floor. A whiff of musk that rides the air till it finds your inhale. Double doors that open with intention. The crescendo of the music. And now, that announced entrance is staring at me from across a crowded lobby, smiling that sinful smile he knows will make me tremble. I know better than to look away, but I do. Which gives him the advantage. The next time I'm aware of him, it's because his lips are next to my ear. "Hello, Uri," he whispers. His voice awakens a swell of emotion I've spent lifetimes attempting to quell, and my eyes close as I attempt to force it back down my throat. "Are you meeting someone?" he continues, the curve of his chest pinning itself to my shoulder. Our breaths rise together as I inhale deeply. “Of course you are,” he chuckles. “You wouldn't be off your leash, otherwise.” His words are a fist to my stomach, my exhale releasing itself in a ragged breath. “Who are you here to save, hmmm?” he continues, hot breath trailing across the back of my neck. “Go away,” I finally manage. Baph chuckles again. “You know, that would carry much more weight, if you meant it .” He pivots carefully to face me, maintaining the touch on my shoulder. I don’t bother to look away this time. Instead I lift my eyes to meet those endless dark pools that make his pupils. They’re always dilated. Always deep. Always attuned to every motion around him. I can see myself in the black, my own face a softer mirror of his. We were both crafted by the same maker, after all. Our features conceived in the same mind, our existence birthed for the same purpose. And though Baph is no longer part of my world ... He is still so beautiful. “That’s better,” he coos. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes.” His gaze sweeps the room with excitement. “Who is it, Uri? No, don’t tell me, let me guess!” His dark head of curls brush against my cheek as he turns his head. They smell of smoke. There was a time they smelled of myrrh. “That one.” My eyes are drawn to his pointed finger. To his long, black nails that have been polished and filed to perfect coffin tips. I only look at the object of his gesture when I hear the laughter rumbling in his throat. The man has short hair the color of sand, and brown eyes that hide in deep sockets. He reaches into his pocket, checks his phone, replaces it, then waits perhaps ten seconds before doing so again. “I wonder who he’s so worried about,” Baph goads me. “A wife? A brother?” “His daughter. She promised to join him for the service,” I reply. “She had to stop for gas on the way. She’ll be here in a few minutes.” “Lucky little pig,” he quips. “His heart is weak, I can hear it from here. It won’t last much longer sputtering like that. Does the little pig know he’s going to die soon, Uri?” The words that come are not truly my own. They are the echo of my order. “That’s not for me to say.” “But it’s for Him to say. He could heal it. He could heal that sputtering, weak heart,” Baph reminds me. “Hmmm...” His eyes begin to scan the room once more. The crowd is thinning as the bulk of the people move into the sanctuary, compelled by the music that has begun to play. “It’s not the same, is it, Uri?” Baph asks, his eyes still moving to and fro. “Even their best would never compare.” For a moment I attune to the strings that are hammered and plucked with honed human skill, knowing he is right. They will spend their brief lives never touching the semblance of Baph’s mastery. The mere brush of his fingertips once summoned ethereal tones that moved galaxies. In his wake, the human prodigies and adepts alike are sounding brass and clanging cymbals. This time when Baph speaks, his words drift just before my lips. “He’ll never receive adorations like mine. Ever again .” Something in me stirs. Something resistant. Rebellious. “I ... don’t think that bothers Him.” “But it bothers you, doesn’t it?” he presses. “He’s so weak and forgotten, He has to settle for these meager offerings. But why should you have to settle, too?” I feel the command, this time. He doesn’t have to touch me to bring my face back to his, my eyes back to his, my attention back to... him. “Do you miss me, Uri? I’ve missed you .” His hand is on my side, his touch simmering, drawing my gasp. “Oh dear... am I distracting you? You do have a job to do, after all.” His lips draw closer. “Who is it, Uri?” That’s when she comes through the door, of course. I’m compelled to look at her, even though I don’t want to give her away. Baph looks, too. Our eyes lock onto her with synchronized attention. She’s young. Humans find her beautiful. Her face. Her body. My kind might find her beautiful for other reasons. Her voice. Her soul. Baph’s lips curl into his most pleased smile. One that bares the tips of his pointed canines with teasing ferocity as his remark is released through a satisfied growl, “Oh... that one.” We don’t move. We just watch. She stands there, in the doorway, her hand still gripping the handle that granted her entry. Her body is poised to such extreme that the gentlest suggestion will either draw her deeper within, or push her back. “Stepping into my territory again, aren’t you?” he taunts. “He doesn’t want her.” “Why not?” His grip tightens on my side. “Look at you... Uriel... His Light ... So...” A sound releases from his throat. Almost something of pleasure... admiration. “Why does He need something defiled when He has something so glorious? He doesn’t. He doesn’t need her.” “But ...” His finger presses over my lips. “Shhh... I know what you’re thinking... But he wants her, right?” Baph shakes his head. “He just wants the praise. These pigs can’t HELP but praise. They will praise ANYTHING that makes them feel like they matter.” She’s uncertain now. Her weight falls back, pressing against the door, pushing it ajar just enough so that I can feel the breeze from the outside snake its way through the small opening. Baph’s whisper chills me. “But they don’t matter.” She’s going to leave. And so my spirit reaches across the lobby. My essence draws near to her, folding into her, so that I might penetrate the bonds Baph has so exquisitely laced around her mind, bending her to his will. And I whisper. “I have loved you...” His eyes narrow at this. His fingers dig painfully deeper, clawing at the fabric of my being so that I can finally feel the Hellfire in his grasp. The emotion that will forever separate us begins to boil within him so fiercely that its malice attempts to close around my throat. But it’s not enough to stop me. “... with an everlasting love... I have drawn you... ” His dark, slender tongue flicks amid his lips. “No!” But it’s too late. The door has closed behind her once more. And her fingers have slowly uncurled themselves. She takes a step inside. The music begins to draw her to the sanctuary. With a nervous breath, she passes through to where He is waiting for her. Baph’s fury is unleashed in a roar that would fill these mortals with terror, could they only hear it. But the rage quickly drowns amid agony. Amid tormented, frustrated anguish. “Why? WHY?” he screams. “They’re depraved! Ugly! Broken! They’re NOTHING!” His skin begins to darken till he glistens like obsidian, his eyes smoldering to dull flames that look into the Heavens as the inferno burning inside of him manifests through his open mouth. “He doesn’t love them! He just uses them to torment me! TO PUNISH ME!” he screams. “Well it won’t work! I don’t want you! I don’t need you! I HATE YOU!” I inhale the heat of his despair, holding it inside my lungs a moment, sharing the same pained feeling in my chest. “Do you really believe any of that?” I ask. His face turns to me. His eyes. Those black pools. So deep. Yet so empty. “I have to,” he whispers. “Otherwise... I can’t stand it.”


Dr. Hemmer rarely stirred in his sleep, and this night was no exception. The only movement on board was the slow rise and fall of the scientist’s chest, and the air from his lips rustling his long grey beard. Night? Did it say night? There was no night on the *Zoltan-V*, only the lights of the small spaceship turning on and off, revealing and obscuring the starry sky outside the window. The robot 9593 filed away this slip with a binary chuckle. The old scientist continued to sleep soundly as ever. When Hemmer awoke, the lights had already turned on. A bowl of cereal awaited him, sitting on the small plastic table against the wall on the opposite side of the room. He pulled on a button-up shirt and a pair of khaki pants and hobbled over to his breakfast. He ate in silence until the voice from the walls interrupted him. *Dr. Hemmer, I’ve detected trace elements of helium in the ship’s atmosphere.* This certainly managed to get his attention. He jerked his head up, first at the green light near the top of the wall, and then swiftly to his left, where a large monitor sat sunk into the ship’s wall. “9593, could you pull that up for me?” The default window was whisked away, and in its place sat a helpfully color-coded pie chart. “Looks like a pretty standard 76 / 23 -- now wait, hold on-” He paused for a second, and pinched the screen. The 1% “other” sliver was enlarged, and inside of it sat a worrying slice of pink -- helium. The doctor narrowed his eyes and leaned in, pulling his tiny spectacles close to his eyes. (Why did he insist on this? His vision was perfect.) “This may be a problem.” *I am aware.* “Is there an issue with the air filtration system?” *Presumably.* “Where did the helium come from? It’s not like it’s a byproduct of anything.” *Perhaps it leaked in from outside.* The man pursed his lips. *That would be troubling*, the robot added. He nodded. “9593, I have a question to ask you.” *Yes?* It said, with an almost imperceptible amount of anticipation. “Am I in any condition to perform out-of-ship operations?” *You could be the peak Zoltan specimen and I would still say no.* “I suppose that’s because I’m the *last* Zoltan specimen.” *Mhm. You are* the *Zoltan*. Hemmer nodded, disappointed but not surprised. He leaned back in his chair for a second, sticking the nail of his left thumb in between his teeth. “Could there be something wrong with the measurement?” He asked, looking up at 9593’s singular green light. He was a bit excited now; it had been so long since something truly *happened* on board. His face stayed unreadable in thought, but he bounced his right knee rapidly up and down. There was an unusually long pause in the computer’s response, about a quarter of a second. Hemmer didn’t notice. *It certainly would explain a lot*. “I’m gonna go check.” He got up from his seat, thrilled to finally be doing something important. He strolled over to the ship’s controls and dusted off a small metal box, adorned with a screen and a series of buttons and levers. “Let’s see if the manual test returns the same thing,” he said. 9593 did not respond. He booted up the small device, and after a few seconds, a table appeared. He scanned down the list. 76% nitrogen... 23% oxygen... and a negligible amount of helium. Hemmer’s heart sank. “No problem after all,” he told the computer routinely, scowling disappointedly. *Well, there is a problem. The ship’s measurement systems are broken, and the only thing that let us know was an antique show.* Hemmer nodded, but it didn’t seem to comfort him. “You know, 9593, I really thought we had something there.” The side of his mouth twitched in frustration. “We almost had something good.” *You mean something bad*. “Something different!” He snapped, in an unusual burst of emotion. 9593 paused for a moment. *You have plenty of things to do. The entirety of our civilization’s surviving media is at your fingertips. There’s enough old films alone to last a lifetime.* “Why would I want them to?” He said again, more in despair than in anger. The computer had no answer. Hemmer sat down and rested his head on his elbow. *I’ve been watching them, even if you haven’t*. “You have?” He said, disinterested. *I have*. “Which ones?” *There’s one called “Back to the Future.” It was incredibly popular some six thousand years ago -- one of the oldest in our collection.* “Fascinating,” the doctor replied, clearly not fascinated. *You don’t find the irony at least a little funny? That I’m watching a movie about going back in time thirty years, that itself is two hundred times that age?* “Mhm.” The two of them went about the rest of their day hardly speaking. The doctor spent the afternoon reading a mystery novel (the tenth time he had read it, 9593 noted). He ate a standard dinner, and turned off the lights and went to bed at an abnormally early eight o’clock. The stars were once again visible outside the window. 9593 couldn’t help but wonder at the futility of their mission. The likelihood of stumbling across a habitable planet before Hemmer passed away was astoundingly low. And then what fate for the computer? What fate for the ship? It sighed metallically. The only movement on board was the slow rise and fall of the scientist’s chest, and the air from his lips rustling his long grey beard. Dr. Hemmer had a dream, but he didn’t remember it upon waking. He pulled on a new button-up shirt and a new pair of khakis and trudged over to the table across the room. *How are you doing, Dr. Hemmer?* 9593 said as the doctor poured milk into his bowl. “I’m doing alright,” he responded with a neutral expression. “And you?” *I’ve composed a poem, Dr. Hemmer*. The old scientist looked up from his cereal at the green light on the wall. His eyebrows furrowed. “You have.” It was more of a statement than a question. *Do you want to hear it?* The doctor nodded, his puzzled expression not leaving his face. *Here goes.* The robot cleared its electric throat. *The sun shone down on her pink-cheeked face,* *And warmed without a care.* *And none could see, if given chance she,* *Would sit forever there.* The scientist smiled, pleasantly surprised. “It’s actually really good, 9593.” *Really?* There was a tinge of excitement in the monotone voice. Dr Hemmer nodded. “Really.


Mac the Wizard goes for coffee. (its for practice) Mac woke up groggy. His head was swimming from the previous night; a hangover loomed over the forecast of the coming day off. Mac rubbed his face with a sigh and pulled himself from his bed. It would be slow going today, a day of smoking his pipe and concocting a potion that would ease his nausea and his headache. He would listen to records and eat all the greasy food. By evening he would be human again and probably head to the bar for some hair of the dog. (Which was a literal beverage at the bar) Though before any of that, Coffee was the first step in Mac’s hangover remedy kit. And for that, Mac would have to venture into the loudness and brightness of Acre city. Thinking about the three block gauntlet to the coffee shop made Macs stomach lurch. He took his time putting sweatpants on, grey and stained and ancient. Still wearing his last nightshirt, Mac snagged his red jacket and stepped into his flip-flops, he called his hat with magic, perched it on his head and left the comfort of his apartment and descended the stairwell that would lead Mac to Acre City. It was bright, and cold, and annoying. Mac held a tight Grimace as he walked towards RISE AND GRIND COFFEE CO. A wind whipped through the city and sliced at Macs face. It wouldn’t be a long walk, but it also certainly wouldn’t be an enjoyable one. Mac needed more layers. Hung over, but not so much that He couldn’t weave a spell. Mac spoke in the ancient language and compelled the magical ether in the air and suddenly he was in a tight cocoon of warmth. Magic wrapped around him and the outside weather was eased. Mac felt like shit, but warm shit so things were looking up, until they weren’t. Mac rounded a corner and lost his footing on some some unusually uneven concrete in the sidewalk. Before he could think to react his face met the ground, intimately. His shoes flew from his feet as he crashed. He laid there splayed for a moment, dizzied and irritated, before slowly crawling to his hands and feet. He took stock of his body to see if he was injured, the result was mostly his pride, as he looked up to see a group of school imps laughing maniacally. Mac dusted himself off, collected his shoes and soldiered on. He’d only one block to go. Mac arrived at the coffee shop and the line was insane, because of course it would be. Macs head throbbed, his body ached, he needed a black coffee so hard and he was so close. He did his best to put himself into a meditative state as he queued and inched toward the counter and relief. Luckily the person in front of him only had to order 12 extra Venti specialty coffees with extreme demands, No dragon milk, extra pixie sugar, sea salt from the forbidden sea on the side. Mac fumed and glared with hazardous intent at the back of their head. (I think developing the person ordering this could be a great elaboration for this story) His time came and Mac felt like heaven had opened to him. He ordered simply, “I just need the largest black coffee that you can legally sell me.” He didn’t say it in jest. “Ultra Venti Black Coffee, that’ll be 12:66 sweetie. Can I get a name for the order? The bubbly nature of this attendant made Mac uncomfortable. “Its Mac” He paid and stepped to the side to wait. His head pounded and he was sweating from every pour that belonged to him. The new age music was barely audible over all the meetings and social media posting but Mac enjoyed the tune and felt that the energy of the day might be shifting. Coffee was coming and so too was clarity and then Mac could make beeline home and properly Vedge out. It took fourteen minutes, but for Mac it was hours, The guy who’d been in front had insisted on double checking all the coffees and sending half back for being cold. Mac nearly turned him into a ferret. But finally a heavily pierced Orcish barista shouted out. “Order For Marc!” Mac hesitated, and then claimed the coffee from the Orc, it was nearly a Gallon and piping hot. Mac salivated and clasped at the coffee. He shuffled from the coffee shop with a renewed energy, brushing shoulders with nearly everyone as he exited into the street. He spoke another warming spell and took off toward his home with an impressive gait, He made it back to his house in ten minutes, he climbed the stairs two at a time and threw himself into his apartment, the coffee had cooled from a molten state to the small window consumption Mac. Mac plopped onto his couch and raised the cup to his lips and slurped the nectar. He spilled a large portion onto his shirt as he drank staining his well-worn shirt. He drew a large knock of it. When he came up for air. His face once again wore a massive grimace. He smacked his lips in disbelief shaking his head. All that time, all that effort, all that patience. Those bastard baristas added sugar and milk. Mac shook his head; the beautiful sanctity of his dark black roast had been sullied by sugar and dairy. “Gods damn that’s fucking delicious.” Mac drained the coffee as he questioned the fabric of his reality.


"Jason!" My eyes snapped open as my teacher walked towards me. "You were sleeping. Do you find this lecture boring?" I shook my head. "Now ma'am." The teacher gave a forced smile. "Good now could you tell me the last name of our eighth president?" My stomach felt like it had been twisted into a knot. "Um...well you see...I...he" My teacher was about ready to talk when the quiet girl of my class with waist length, wavy, blonde, hair, and blue eyes stood up. "Oh that's my favorite president his last name was Van Burien." I almost laughed as my teachers frown almost touched her chin. Before she could say anything the bell rang. "Class dismissed." As I walked out of the classroom my classmate who had helped me caught up to me. I nervously reached out my hand towards her. "Thanks..." the girl smiled and shook my hand. "The names Lindsey and your welcome." I tried to think of somethingto say."So your favorite president is... Ven Buran?" Lindsey slapped her face. "Of course not, I said that to help you out, and its Van Burien." I gave a nervous laugh. "Oh." Lindsey gave me a playful elbow in the side. "Stop acting so weird I don't bite." Then she walked ahead of me. I felt really bad and decided to find an opportunity to apologize to her. I walked towards her when I saw she was heading outside. We were supposed to be heading to class. I decided to spy on her And see what she was up to. She went outside and stopped and stared at something in the distance. I strained to see what she was looking at. I almost jumped as I saw an eight foot tall black alien . He had spikes down his back and on its tail, a mask covered his face. His eyes were completely white. He walked towards Lindsey calmly. He spoke in a raspy voice that sounded like it was coming from the other side of the world yet you could still hear it clearly. "You actually thought you could hide." Lindsey took out a sword. "Why hello Vexok. The creature gave a screeching laugh. "Why hello progect 23, ready to go home? The masters waiting." Lindsey clenched her teeth. "I am home, my names Lindsey, and he's not my master. You won't bring me back there." Vexok laughed. "I'm fully improved and am the fastest alien alive. You won't get away." I cocked my head. Why had no one noticed this Vexok guy, they would walk right past him. I snapped out of my thoughts as Vexok lunged at Lindsey at amazing speed. I noticed he also took Lindsey by suprise. Vexok grabbed her arm and twisted it so she would drop her sword. He then said a word I was unable to hear. Immediately she fell to the ground crying in pain, her eyes turned completely white. Vexok then said the word again or at least I think it's the same word. Lindsey's eye's turned back to normal but she was still weak. Vexok lifted her up and cried out a word I could never spell or pronounce. An alien spaceship appeared in front of him. He started to walk through the door and I sneaked in behind them. Vexok shoved unconscious Lindsey into a clear tube and then call out a name. "Tenenial!" A white alien peaked through a door, she also had white eye's and a mask like Vexok "Yes Vexok?" Vexok smiled. "I got progect 23, let's head to the ship." My heart stopped as Vexok turned around. There was nowhere to hide. Vexok saw me and before I knew it he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall. The lights started to go dim but I snapped back when I saw Tenenial run to Vexok and grab his arm. "Dont kill him, he can see us, and only aliens improved by the master can see us. Let him down." Vexok dropped me to the ground. I was in terrible pain. Vexok turned and faced Tenenial. "How could he have been improved by the master, progect 23 is the only human to ever be slightly improved." I noticed Lindsey waking up. "My name is Lindsey." Tenenial turned and saw her. "Ah, your awake. Now tell me progect 23, why can your friend here, see us?" Lindsey looked at me with suprise and then sadness. "Jason, you shouldn't be here." Vexok grabbed me and pulled me back. "Tell us why he can see us or he dies." Lindsey nodded. "Mabie he somehow absorbed my power when he touched me. Probably just a flaw your master made." Tenenial screeched with rage. "He is your master to and he will make sure you know that." Something hit me. "Wait, how could I see Lindsey before she touched me?" Vexok threw me to the ground. "Because she isn't fully improved." Lindsey leaped up. "I was fine the way I was before the improving nonsense!" Tenenial shook with rage. "Enough! We will discuss this later. Put the boy with project 23." Vedox obeyed and Lindsey and I were left alone trapped in the clear tube together. I grabbed Lindsey's shoulders. "Explain please." Lindsey looked away from me to hide her tears. "I suppose I should. It all started about two years ago when I was about twelve. I was playing in my yard when believe it or not I was abducted by aliens. I was taken to a ship just floating there in space. I met an alien there. Everybody called him the master. He told me to call him that to. He smiled and told me to walk with him. He started to explain why I was there. He told me that I was one of the thirty different aliens he was improving. I asked what the improvement was . He laughed and told me that it was exactly what it meant, he was improving us. The master then led me to a room and told me that he would show me. He pointed to the chair and told me to hop in. I did as he said. He turned it on and I felt like I was being burned alive. It only lasted about three minutes when it stopped. The master walked up to me and unstrapped me. I was shaking all over. He helped me off. He told me he turned it off early when I started to scream in pain. I didn't remember screaming, only pain. I told him the pain I felt and he looked at me confused. He told me that had never happened before. I begged for him to take me back home but he said that I would stay. He told me I was quite a scientific experiment and that he would work on me himself. He then said my name was project 23." Lindsey stopped as she started to cry but she quickly recovered "He then led me to a completely empty room and said I'd be staying there. Every day from then on I was tested and I felt the same burning pain. I was being improved, but the master told me that it was extremely difficult to so. He told me I was already growing very powerful. One day he said that there were now becoming side effects. Every time he touched me my eyes would go completely white and I would fall to the ground screaming in pain. I felt worse pain then ever before. The master started to help so that only my hand would make me react like that. He told me the reason that happend was because my body wasn't prepared for the power I held. He then decided I would be a secret project. I could see no one. I asked him what about me was improving besides pain and he told me I would find out on my last day of improvement. I asked how much longer it would take. He told me about a month more of it. At that moment I knew I had to get away. I had never tried before I was to afraid. I risked opening my door. I jumped when I saw a little pink alien girl. She saw me and asked who I was. I told her my name was Lindsey. She smiled and said her name was project 18. I frowned and asked her real name. She looked side to side and whispered to me that it was Shuyal. I asked her to join me in my room. We talked and she to didn't like the improvement business either. So we hatched a plan to run away. The next day Shuyal had found out were the escape pods were. The two of us sneaked into one. The escape pod asked for a voice recognition. Me and Shuyal had given up when a gaurd came. Shuyal ran up to him and asked his favorite color. The gaurd cocked his head and asked what in the universe she meant. Immediately the escape pod turned on but the doors shut. I clawed at them trying to open them. I screamed at the escape pod to open up but it wouldn't listen. It instead asked were I wished to go. I had no choice but to leave her. I told it earth. I came to where you were. The aliens had killed my family and I was forced to go to an adoption center." The two of us sat in silence for a while. I shook my head. "Im sorry Lindsey." After a few more minutes of silence Vexok walked in. "Were here." Me and Lindsey stood up as Vexok opend the door. We walked out Vexok following close behind us. An alien I assumed was the master smiled at us. "Project 23 how good it is to see you again." I was surprised that she didn't argue about her name. Instead she looked down at the ground. The master looked at me. "Tenenial told me about you and how you can see us. Spectacular. I can work on you to myself. What do you say, progrect 31?" I backed up shaking my head and bumped into Vedox who held me still. "N...no thank you." The master frowned. "You humans are so stubborn. I suppose we must take you by force then." I turned to Lindsey who looked up at me and then looked straight at the master. "Please, let him go. He has nothing to do with me." The master laughed. "I could use another human. They are quite powerful. Tenenial find an empty room for the two." Tenenial obeyed and brought us to our room. When we were alone I paced. "How can we escape?" Lindsey laid on the empty ground looking at the ceiling with grief. "There is no way Jason." I shook my head and was about to try to open the door when it opend and a small pink alien looked through. "I will be guarding you two just to let you know." Lindsey leaped up. "Shuyal!" Then Lindsey's face saddened. "You are all the way improved. Do you remember me?" I noticed Shuyal had completely white eyes. Lindsey was right she was improved. "I do not know you neither do I care to." Lindsey collapsed onto the ground. "Were never going to escape." I decided to lay down and wait. After a while the master came in. "It's time!" I got up but Lindsey was frozen. I leaned down and helped her up. We slowly followed him. We walked down hall upon hall until we reached a room. Lindsey froze again and wouldn't budge. The master shook his head, grabbed her hand and pulled her to the room. The master set Lindsey in the chair and carefully strapped her in. He turned it on and immediately Lindsey's eye's turned white but this time there was more. Her hair turned dark pink and her skin turned very pale. She remained silent but I could tell from her expression she felt horrible pain. It took about thirty minutes when the master stopped it. He unstrapped Lindsey from the device. Lindsey fell onto the ground barely catching herself with her hands. The master helped her up and motioned for me to go. I slowly walked to the device. The master strapped me in. He walked toward the device and I held my breath as the tube lowered over me. I could see nothing but blackness. Then I felt a tingling sensation. I tried to remember who I was. Then, just like Lindsey I felt terrible pain. It felt like needless were stabbing me and felt like I was being burned alive. It seemed to last forever until it finally stopped. I saw Lindsey yelling at the master. Then she saw that I was awake. She ran to me and squeezed my hand. "I begged him to stop but he wouldn't. You were in there for three hours. The normal time is a half an hour. Your eyes turned completely blue and strands of your hair started to turn blue to. Oh, and of course you screamed in pain." She glared at the master. The master put a hand on my shoulder. "I simply need to speed you up so you can catch up to progect 23." This time Lindsey did argue. "It's Lindsey, ok Carl?" The master cocked his head. "My real name is not Carl." Lindsey grinned. "It is until you start calling us by our real names." The master rolled his eyes. I realized that the master didn't necessarily seem like a bad guy. I dismissed the thought. After that horrible nightmare I confirmed that he was definitely a bad guy. The master unstrapped me. "That's all for this evening I'll get project number 31 back at midnight." Lindsey gasped. "That's way to soon." The master ignored her and led us back to our rooms. When we got back I started to pace again. "Lindsey, we need to find a way to bring everybody's memory back." Lindsey nodded. "But how can we?" I started to pace again. "I guess we'll have to try and think of something that would jog their memory, we'll test it on Shuyal." Lindsey nodded. "Well then let's get her." I went to the door and opened it. Shuyal was there. "What do you creeps want?" I smiled. I lunged at her and pulled her into the room. Lindsey shut the door behind us and helped me pin Shuyal down. " Shuyal, you have to remember me." Shuyal screamed. "Get off me!" Lindsey calmly let go. "Tell me Shuyal, whats your favorite color?" Shuyal immediately stopped struggling. "Lindsey?" Lindsey laughed and helped her up. Shuyal smiled. "Pink was always my favorite." Shuyal eyes stayed white, she was still improved but she remembered everything perfectly. All of a sudden Vexok stormed into the room. "Whats going on, I heard screaming." Shuyal ran to him. "Vexok weres Cenie?" Vexok froze. "She... She's..." Shuyal put a hand on his much much larger one. "She's waiting for you at home." Lindsey looked confused. "How did you know that Shuyal?" Vexok frowned. "I used to talk about her all the time. She's my wife." I spoke up. "We have to make the others remember." Vexok smiled. "Easy I can get Tenenial and a few others. They can get other aliens to. Let's get to work." Me and Lindsey had to stay but Vexok and Shuyal went." Me an Lindsey's hopes were high until the master walked in. "It's midnight, project 31." My heart sank as he lead me to the room. He strapped me in. It turned on and I felt the same pain all over again. It felt way longer then normal this time. I woke up to see Lindsey smiling at me. "Mission accomplished." Lindsey helped me up. I looked around and saw the master surrounded by a few aliens. He saw me and grinned. He then said the same word Vexok had said to Lindsey. All the aliens surrounding me collapsed to the ground crying out in pain. I wasn't affected. The master walked toward me and grabbed my shoulder. Everything went black. * The pain stopped and Lindsey stood up. Jason stood at the side of the master. A grey mask was over his now completely blue eyes. He held a sword in his right hand. Strands of his hair were completely blue. Lindsey looked at the other aliens. They were also awake. Lindsey looked back up at the master. The master smiled. "Glad to see you are up." Lindsey was confused. "Am I mistaken or are the others asleep?" The master laughed. "There under our control now you see progect 31 focuses all his energy on them and I focus all of mine on him." Lindsey knew she had to quickly react to get Jason's memory back. "Jason, remember me, I'm Lindsey." Jason didn't flinch. The master laughed. "You cannot bring his memory back. Soon all of us including you, when your under my control, will each rule a planet and mabie we'll all rule the universe instead." Lindsey desperately tried to think of a way to make him remember. Then it hit her. "Who is our eighth president, is it Ven Buran?" Jason laughed. "It's Ven Burien." He then remembered he had been under control of the master. He hadn't been able to move or speak but he could hear everything. He knew what he had to do. He knew the master would soon gain back control over him. He looked at Lindsey. "This is my choice and it's not your fault. Remember that." Lindsey turned completely white. "Jason don't..." Lindsey didn't finish. Jason plunged the sword into his stomach. "Bye Lindsey, punch Carl for me will you?" THE END


I staggered after Lucy, even though she was the one wearing heels. She marched quickly and with purpose, her shoes click-clacking on the cold linoleum. In my defense, I was carrying some supplies for the caterers. I was too nervous to sit around, so I asked if I could help them. At this moment, I was struggling to maintain my grip on a large box filled with champagne glasses, craning my neck to the side to make sure I didn’t trip. “I spoke to Jeff, I told him to take Grandpa straight into the family area. He’ll get annoyed if he has to keep moving about, you know how he is. I think you should deal with him, I’ll do better with Linda.” Lucy was giving instructions to our uncle Mikey, despite being more than twenty years younger than him. Poor Mikey was hurrying after her just like I was, his own box of kitchenware in his arms, nodding his head every so often and adding the occasional “Uh huh”. “Carla, did you speak to Linda today? She told me she would ring you if she couldn’t get through to me. My phone wasn’t getting a signal when I was downstairs.” “Uh... No, I haven’t checked my phone in a while though.” “Well can you get to that soon? Jesus, there’s a lot going on and I would appreciate it if you could think about someone other than yourself for once.” I gritted my teeth and willed myself not to respond. The sides of the box were digging into my arms and my fingers were aching from clasping so hard. I pictured my mother in my mind, listened to her laugh and felt her soft arms wrapped around me. In a couple of hours, I would see her again. “When we get to the reception hall I’ll call her myself, since I’m the only one that can be bothered to do anything.” She took out her phone and began jabbing her fingers at the screen. The room was already in sight, I could see the wall of windows facing out onto the badlands, the sun looking softer than the stark, artificial lights in the corridor. Mikey slowed his pace to veer in beside me. “Hey kid, how are you holding up? That box heavy for ya?” “Not at all.” “You’re not nervous for the landing are ya? They say it’s a lot safer than the launch. A lot safer.” Mikey smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know how she did it. She was always crazy, you know. When we were kids, she’d always bike faster than all of us, always climb the highest and do the stupidest stunts.” “Uh huh.” My hands were in pain now and I rushed the last few steps into the room to get to the table before the box dropped out of my hands. I planted the box down as gently as I could and then shook my hands out in sweet relief. “You know, she always said she was gonna go to space. That was her dream.” Mikey put down his box, more gracefully than I had. I turned to the window to hide my face from him, hoping he wouldn’t want to talk too much. “She would buy all these science magazines about space travel. She was always talking about like, space shuttles and stuff.” “Yeah.” “I bet it’s cool to have a mum who’s gone to space.” He laughed and put his arm around me. “All the kids in school must think it’s pretty amazing right?” “Yeah.” I looked out at the landscape, blank and dull and barren. I wished I could harness some of that emptiness for myself. I tried not to think about my mother slamming into that barrenness at 286 miles per hour. ------------------------------------- Mikey and I continued ferrying boxes into the room. There were balloons and banners to put up, we were unsure about how much decorating to do before the landing. “Maybe we should wait until we get confirmation,” I said. “You know, don’t want to tempt fate.” Although if she did die, I’m sure the caterers wouldn’t mind packing everything up by themselves, I supposed. Lucy continued patrolling between rooms, talking into her phone or firing updates at us, while we fiddled with the food and kitchenware. She would greet all of the NASA employees with a beaming smile, full of warmth. People were very friendly to me, full of compliments about my mum. I had a hard time focusing on the conversations, my stomach was in knots and my mind was filled with images of the Challenger disaster. Grandpa arrived before Linda. I hadn’t seen him in years, and I was amazed when I caught a look at him. He was wearing a suit and tie, it looked very expensive. He shuffled over to our seats, head down and face as grumpy as ever. “We’re all so glad to see you here, Grandpa,” Lucy said, helping him to a chair. “Huh,” he grunted in reply. “Can I get you a coffee Grandpa?” “Uh, yeah. Three sugars.” We sat in awkward silence for a moment, Grandpa staring at the ground and Mikey and I not knowing what to say. I was sort of touched that he had come all the way here. Grandpa and Linda never attended the launch last year. The last time I remembered seeing him was when Linda gave birth to her first son, that was eight years ago. I wondered if he had spoken to mum since then. Linda arrived a short while later with her husband and three kids in tow. They swept in like a blizzard, the two older boys stabbing each other with rockets and the baby fussing in his stroller. “Boys! No messing in here, there’s very expensive equipment! George, control them.” We passed the time waiting in three teams, Mikey and me together, Linda and her family, and Grandpa on his own. Everyone was at a loss about what to say to each other. Linda was friendlier than Grandpa had been, she told me I had a pretty dress and asked how school was. Mikey played with the boys a bit before Linda gave them a time out. Lucy hovered between us all, topping up everyone’s coffee and promising to get an update on the schedule. “Alright folks, the shuttle will be entering Earth’s atmosphere very soon, we can all head to the control room to watch.” My heart fluttered and my stomach was woozy. I stayed close to Mikey as we walked. The control room was enormous, tv screens and computers everywhere. I scoured the screens to find anything that could be an alert or an SOS, but the staff were jovial and the room had an air of excitement. There was a large screen ahead of us showing a fuzzy blue line. At firs,t I thought the image wasn’t working, then I realised it must be a camera in front of mum’s shuttle. The top part of the screen was black, the bottom was a brilliant white from the sun shining over the ocean. The fuzzy line was the Earth’s atmosphere, curving steadily. I stared in amazement, it was so peaceful. “Hey guys, wanna talk to your mum?” We bustled with excitement. “Discovery, this is mission control. Do you copy?” “Loud and clear.” There it was, my mother’s voice. I had been able to call her a few times during her mission. She was always bright and full of energy, excited to tell us about everything on the ISS. “Alright Hazel, we’ve got your family here. You guys go ahead and speak.” We all felt shy. “What’s up sis?” was Mikey’s message. “I love you mum,” was all I could think to say. “I love you too so much. I’m gonna give you such a big hug when I see you.” “T minus 6 minutes,” said an officer. “Alright, we got to close the channel and divert power to the engines. See you soon Hazel.” “Bye guys, have a cold one ready for me Mikey.” “Will do.” We watched in fascination as the shuttle continued to orbit the Earth. The NASA employees gave updates and instructions to each other, while I stood there feeling helpless. Speeds of 800 miles and hour, 750 miles and hour and dropping. The outside of the shuttle looked so serene, it was strange to think how fast they were flying. NASA switched the camera on the main screen to one outside the building overlooking the runway. The shuttle was approaching in the distance. Our faces were glued to the screen with a mixture of awe and fear. I clung to Mikey, feeling the tears prick at the sides of my eyes. The shuttle was close now, and had its wheels distended. “And we have touchdown.” The shuttle sped along the runway, releasing a brightly-coloured parachute behind. My heart beat wildly like a trapped bird. The control room erupted in applause as the shuttle came to a stop. Linda’s boys were cheering and jumping up and down in delight. I saw Lucy cover her eyes and shrink into herself. Grandpa came to her side and pulled her into a hug. I saw him wipe away a tear and was so surprised I forgot my own emotional breakdown for a moment. ------------------------------ They sent us back to the family room again. I walked back carefully, my body feeling weightless, my legs detached from me. It would be an hour or so before we could see mum, she had to undergo pressure stabilisation and have a check up before leaving the shuttle. When my hands stopped shaking I tried putting up some banners, but found I had no ability to concentrate at all. Even Lucy seemed unable to summon the will to get annoyed with me. Mum walked in at last to great cheering and elation. She was so pale, like a sleepwalker who couldn’t decide where to go. Her eyes searched the room and when I caught her eye, her smile exploded. I rushed to her, wanting to wrap her all around me so tightly I could never escape. “Baby, baby. I have you again,” she whispered in my ear. I felt her warm breath on my neck. Everyone got a turn to hug her, I kept my hand on her back, making sure I was always touching her, confirming she was really there. Grandpa approached her with his head down. He didn’t say anything. He looked like he was shivering, then I saw that he was crying. “Oh dad!” My mum grabbed him and pulled him into an embrace.


She lay out the instruments with the utmost care, making sure each one lined up with the other in parallel. It was a simple operation; she could do it with her eyes shut - and in fact she had. It was only a few years previously that the hijacking of the REM cycles had been discovered, but with the imminent need for more microbinarial surgeons it had quickly been used to train applicants to a place of competency. In the adjacent room, the patient’s head slumped backwards. In only a matter of seconds, the sodium compound had permeated his skin, and worked its way to his heart - from where it was being pumped through every artery and capillary in his body. The effects had been nearly instantaneous. The anaesthetist watched over the happenings but did not react, for all was going as expected. The implant was, with tweezers and an exceedingly steady hand, teased out of the viscous liquid under which it was kept. It had to be activated before it could be placed inside the temporal lobe of the brain, to the left of the lateral fissure. The process was automatic. A brief reaction with the oxygen in the air, and the implant glowed a muddy orange, as the electrical current produced was absorbed and then conserved for future use. The patient was wheeled in and positioned next to the operating table. Without hesitation she pulled the machine over his head and placed her chin on the rest to look into the eyepiece. She watched as the machine bore a small hole in his skull and then retracted from over him. Without delay, she set about preparing to insert the device. The chip was clamped with fine tongs and lowered in through the hole. Once in position, the surgeon released the horizontal pressure from the tongs, leaving the implant nestled snuggly in place. She quickly pasted over the cranial orifice with artificial bone. The skin was replaced with an identical, newly grown patch, and a cream was rubbed into the new skin. Hair would grow by morning. And by the morning following that, the patient would have no recollection of the operation at all. Beatrice was a moral woman - as moral as anyone else; however, her morals couldn’t stretch as far as five million credits. She stood, uneasily, in her operating theatre, every so often glancing cautiously over her left shoulder toward the door, and then back at the sheet of paper which had been spewed, inexplicably, from her printer the prior morning. Had it not been for the advanced million credits proving to be legitimate, Beatrice would have shredded the A4 sheet without second thought. Money was freedom. Beatrice tried not to consider what her conspirator was planning on using the implants for, once whoever it was had control of them. The message had told her that it was ‘for good’, but she doubted that. Either way, she would be far away before they could do any harm - if that was what they wanted. The instructions they had given her seemed simple enough, and Beatrice doubted that they would even work - after all she’d never heard of access to the implants through the hospital computer network. Even so, with the thought of an early retirement heavy in the front of her mind, she quickly opened a command terminal and started to write the commands given to her. They sounded bogus, but the writer of the letter had proven their legitimacy, so she continued without hesitation. She was finished and with one swift motion brought her index finger down toward the enter key, but in that instant, something fired in her brain. Something powerful took hold of her, controlling her motion and halting her action. It froze her in her place. A voice. ‘We are in control now Beatrice.


Made by Beeple, the artist for our collaborative worldbuilding project *Yaldev.* You can check out more of his art on - - - PRESSURE REACHING MAX CAPACITY “No, no!” Tan was doomed. Everyone in the bunker was doomed. Tan especially, since they’d all find a way to blame him. If he was to be honest, he'd have to admit they were probably right. It was his sole job to keep the pressure at bay while the others devised a plan of escape from the capital, and send an alert if it was too high, but he hadn’t paid attention. In his old age, he’d often zone out. He tried to tell them he might not be the most capable man for the job anymore, but he had a known name that everyone from the Exodus Academy could trust. A name for them to believe in when their ideals were shattering like the walls of Pelbee's shining buildings. Tan shifted the screens. Various coloured bars growing higher and higher, flashing on top of one another. In his prime, his eyes could follow them and interpret them without thinking. Now, they were just flashes that hurt his overworked mind. The bars were rising higher and higher every second. At this rate, the best case scenario was getting worse and worse. But hey, at least they could still escape further underground? The pressure didn’t need to be perfect- OXYGEN GENERATORS BLOCKED Hmm. If we move quickly- WALLS IN SECTOR 4 BREACHED Nevermind. Doomed. He knew exactly what was happening up there. Mana was flooding aggressively into the room, a colourful liquid which could flow through air and always ran like a raging river. It seemed to target people and artificial constructs, tearing them apart and dissolving them in their wrathful, magical waters. He could faintly hear its raging flood in floors above him. Then a resounding metal creaking and snapping sound as a floor gave way. There’d be the first few deaths. Would it be better to let everyone below die without expecting it? It was too late to fix anything, but should they all die in ignorance or in panic? Tan stared at the alarm button, then back at the screens. The walls wouldn’t last long, the entire ceiling could be destroyed in minutes. PRESSURE MAXIMUM SURPASSED. LOWER PRESSURE. Or seconds. Tan sighed and sat back in his wheelchair. He’d hoped he could make it past 70, but that hope was clearly in vain. He took solace in knowing that his life was a massive success, allowing him to become a renowned professor, even if his final act would be a failure. Unless this wouldn’t be his last act. Tan looked down at his right leg. A shrivelled, burned old limb damaged by a machine. He couldn’t walk, but he could stand. Professor Tan wasn’t going to die sitting down. Propping his leg up and wincing a bit in pain, Tan stood, his legs shaking a bit. He held his arms out to the sides to keep balance for a moment, then held them diagonally upwards, as though witnessing an act of Parc Pelbee himself. He was only a few moments off. The wall he faced broke into pieces. Chunks of the wall flew several feet forward before landing on the ground and breaking into smaller pieces on impact. Mana flooded into the room, a raging river that first flowed upwards into the air, then raged in all directions. The Aethereal river broke walls and smashed computers, the very tools which restricted the natural world it once knew. Then, all at once, it swept over the professor. Tan shut his eyes tight, and screamed in the undertow, not caring that the mana getting inside his body would cause it to dissolve faster. Mana dissolution is painless anyhow, and Tan wouldn’t be surviving this. He clenched his fists and lashed out in every direction with all three of his functioning limbs. Amidst the chaos, a voice came to him. Whether the mana itself spoke to him, or other noise just echoed through the magical floodwaters, or he was simply having a near-death experience due to being old and violently dying, the voice said a word to him: “Behold.” Tan opened his eyes, and the world around him could only be described as beautiful. Immersed in the Aether, he saw a glimpse of the natural world itself. He was suspended in a clear sea, above a coral reef glowing with bioluminescence. Aquatic life bloomed, glowing fish swam around him, and Aether was in the fabric of all. Between atoms. In the gills, eyes and minds of all animals here, in the lifeblood of all the plants. In his moment before death, either by drowning or dissolution - He did not care which, nor did he notice the pain of them - he realized the flaw in his whole approach to his life. He spent his whole life working for Aethereal technology, viewing it as another energy source to be harnessed. Never had he seen at like this. Never had he seen the magic of the world as anything less than an aspect of science. He saw nothing in terms of beauty and harmony until his final moment. The moment quickly passed. Tan’s body was carried and dissolved among the torrent of Aether, becoming more Aether, now one with his life’s focus. At least he didn't live to see them blame him. - - - *Yaldev is a fantasy/sci-fi worldbuilding project based entirely on Beeple art. It is the story of a world in mana-fuelled pandemonium, of the nation which rose to conquer it, of this empire's inevitable collapse, and of the new world which emerged in its wake. The project has major themes about perspective, imperialism, nationalism, nature and the metaphysical battle of law against chaos.