jiāoqiǎnyánshēn (交浅言深) Chinese, v. - to have a deep and intimate conversation with a stranger. The phone had been ringing nonstop for the past twenty minutes from an unknown number. Even when I denied the call, or put my phone on silent, I couldn’t get it to stop ringing. Despite knowing that this was definitely the first five minutes of a horror movie, I answered it. And as soon as the voice on the other end spoke, I knew who it was. My birth mother. “Hello?” I called out, and she answered me. I didn’t think she would answer me. Didn’t think she could hear me. Didn’t think she’d listen. “Hello.” She replied, in perfect English. But it wasn’t English. But it wasn’t Mandarin, either. I don’t know what language it was, but it was one that we both knew. That we could both understand. Maybe we were the only two people in the entire world who could truly understand each other. “Are you really who I think you are?” I asked her, even though I feared the answer as much as I anticipated it. “Yes.” She answered. Yes, I am your mother. Yes, I’ve been looking for you. Yes, I’ve always missed you. Yes, yes, yes. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe, all the oxygen in my lungs having abandoned me. My mother didn’t abandon me. Didn’t want to leave me. Didn’t choose to give me up. That’s what I wanted her to say. I wanted to ask her all the questions I’ve had building up inside of me for the past twenty years. Things that I never dared say aloud, that I’d only allowed myself to dream of during sleepless nights. Things I never thought I’d even have the chance to say. But now that I could, I couldn’t get the words out. They were all tangled up on my tongue and between my teeth. I felt like my jaw had been wired shut, and nothing could pry them out of me. But I so desperately needed to say them. If I didn’t, I would choke on all the things I never said because I wasn’t brave enough. And I’d never let myself digest them, so they’d just sit on my tongue turning rotten. They’d leave a bad taste in my mouth. I took a deep breath, swallowing past the tightness that had wrapped itself around my throat. “Why did you leave me?” I managed to get the words past my lips and out into the open air, where they hung like all the empty space between us. Silence. I couldn’t take back my question, couldn’t have her take me back. It was too late for that. Too late to go back, to before she left me. But now that I’ve said it aloud, I’ve made myself vulnerable to her answer. Made myself visible to her gaze, letting her eyes cut through me and see inside my heart. The heart that has been harbouring all of the unspoken words and broken promises between us for all these years, weighed down by her existence but left empty by her absence. Because a baby is born into the world expecting someone to be there to hold them, to care for them. To love them. But she had taken the word mother , and turned it into stranger . And I don’t know how to ask her to love me. I don’t know why I asked her a question that I already knew her answer to. I knew why she left me. She couldn’t keep me. It was as simple as that. Still, I asked, because I wanted her to tell me that it wasn’t my fault. Wanted her to tell me that if things were different, she would never have let me go. Wanted her to let me cry and wipe away my tears, to look at me and see herself in my gaze. Wanted her to see me for who I am. Wanted her to choose me. Wanted her to call me hers. Wanted her to hug me and hold me and never let me go. Wanted her to promise that she’d never leave me again. I wanted and I wanted and I wanted and I never got what I asked for, until I got it all at once. Until I was overwhelmed by her, and all the sadness and grief and hurt she brought. That she came with. I think it is in our nature, to carry loss with us. It was like I’d been living with a cup filled to the brim with water, that I’d been carefully balancing all my life. And I didn’t dare move too quickly--moving forward would make me spill it. So I stayed in one place because I knew that if I spilt even one drop, the rest would come pouring out. I held the glass as tightly as I could, never letting it go or setting it down. Even when holding it hurt me, made my arm go numb, and my body ache. I couldn’t put the glass down because it would easily break. But then she bumped so carelessly into me, making me spill all of my secrets and fears, and now I’m left with the mess that she left behind. That she didn’t bother to clean up. She just walked away. Away from me. She didn’t even apologize. I wanted to hear her say she was sorry. Wanted to hear her say she’s thought about me every day. Wanted to hear her say she never meant to leave me, to hurt me. Wanted, wanted, wanted. Again, I wanted too much. Wanted something and someone that maybe I didn’t deserve. That maybe I didn’t need. I wanted and I needed and she just left me wanting and needing. And now all I can do is feel the s p a c e between us. Because I wanted her to say things I wasn’t ready to hear. I wanted her to say the three words I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear. “I love you.” But she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything at all. The empty air was silent except for the ragged sound of my breath and the harsh pounding of my heart. Her silence was physical, a manifestation of all the loss she left me with. And I could never get back what I had lost, what she took from me. And when I looked down at the phone screen, I realized that we had been disconnected. And I was the only one left still hanging onto the line. I frantically hit the redial button, but all I got was an answering machine telling me that the number was unavailable. Would always be unreachable. Maybe it belonged to someone else entirely. Maybe it had never existed at all. And when I looked back on the call history, the screen had been wiped clean. We were a blank slate, released from our past lives so we could move on to our new ones. Ones that didn’t have each other in it. It was as if she had never called at all. As if we were never connected in the first place. Because I can’t live carrying this glass of water anymore. It hurts too much. Because my question still hangs in the air, left unanswered. It will always be unanswered. Maybe she didn’t understand me, after all.


“Today is the day I change” I looked for any reaction from my one person audience but Rian barely even moved, her nose remained firmly buried in her book. “Are you even listening to me?” I asked her. “Nope” I deflated a bit but I couldn’t blame her. I had said it over a million times but saying was the easy part. I actually had to do something about it. And that was the difficult part. “You know maybe a little positivity would go a long way. How does anyone expect me to change if my closest friend doesn’t even think I can?” Rian sighed. “Would that make you leave me alone?” I shrugged. She finally dropped her book and stood. I sat up in my chair wondering what she would do. To be honest, I had not expected her to do anything. Rian and I had been best friends since we were children and she was a lot of things, but positive was not one of them. Not to say she was always a Debby Downer but I had only seen her put effort into encouraging someone once. Her effort had failed miserably. I was the effort that failed miserably. I watched her as she brought her hands up to her cheeks and pressed them into a weird imitation of a smile and her voice suddenly went up a pitch as she spoke. “Sean. You’re my bestest friend in the whole world and I’m so happy that you’ve finally decided to quit drinking.” At this point, her smile was stretched wide and her eyes closed while her hands waved at her sides like she was an anime character doing a bit. Then she ended it with two thumbs up. “I always believed in you Sean” I was speechless. I watched with my jaws on my chest as she sat down, picked her book and continued reading like nothing had happened. “What the heck was that?” Surprisingly, I wasn’t the one who asked the question. I turned to see my other friend, Jasper standing at the doorway with three boxes of pizza balanced on one hand and a six-pack on the other. I shook my head and turned back to Rian, but she was back to ignoring me. “Sean. What the heck was that?” Jasper asked dropping the beer and the pizza on the table. “I’m gone for two minutes and you guys have gone full freak on me?” “Dude, I have no idea what the hell just happened.” I was just as confused..... actually, more confused than he was. Seeing as neither of us had any answers, we turned to the one person who would. She didn’t even pay us any attention. “Come on, Ri. You’ve got to explain that” Jasper pushed when she ignored our stares. “I don’t want to.” Rian said simply. She reached over and grabbed a pizza slice from one of the boxes Jasper had brought in. “How did you guys even get to that?” Jasper asked. “cuz I’ve been running calculations and I just don’t understand how you guys got to ....that in your conversation” I shrugged as I grabbed a slice. Jasper handed me a bottle of beer while looking at me expectantly awaiting the story. I looked to Rian and she was actually listening. “I’m gonna quit drinking.” Jasper laughed. “Yeah right” “I’m serious. I’m gonna quit. I’m gonna change my life. Be a good person.” I’d actually been thinking about it for a while. When my ex-girlfriend, Janice, broke up with me, I’d retreated into the bottle. Within a span of two years, I became an alcoholic. I lost my job. I lost the respect of my peers. I lost my own self-respect. “Just like that?” Jasper asked. “Yeah” Jasper and Rian shared a look. I didn’t understand what was being communicated but clearly it was about me. I hated when people spoke about me behind my back and they both knew it, so they were probably doing it to annoy me. “What is it?” “Nothing” Jasper shrugged, taking a swig from his bottle. I snatched the bottle from his hands. “Tell me” He looked at Rian again. “Look it’s just.... We’ve been here before.” “What do you mean?” “Remember when we held that intervention after you crashed your car?” I flinched. I did remember. That was the only time I’d ever heard Rian give a speech; an inspiring one at that. I also remembered the promise I made them - to stop drinking. Most importantly, I remember breaking the promise the next night when I got into a drunken fight with Rian’s fiancé. They’d broken up that night after Rian got into a shouting match with him. He asked her to pick between us. She picked me. “Look, Sean. We really want you to change as well. But the thing is you’re never willing to put the work. Change isn’t automatic. It’s a process. You’ve got to actually want to change if not...” He shrugged. “You’re wasting everyone’s time” “That’s harsh.” I said quietly. “I’m sorry man. It’s the truth” I looked at Rian. She was always in my corner. We made that promise when we were young - Rian and Sean against the world. “Do you agree?” She looked away from me. “I’m always with you Sean. But I don’t think I have the strength to even try again if you’re not going to go through with it” I hadn’t realized how much I’d been hurting her or those closest to me. Suddenly it all made sense. Why they were always around even when they didn’t need to be. Why Rian hadn’t been on a date for over seven months. Why Jasper was always the one to get the beer. They were trying to make sure I wasn’t passed out drunk on the rails outside of town again (That only happened once. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life) Right there, I made a decision. I grabbed the bottle of beer Jasper had handed me earlier and walked to the kitchen. I could hear Rian and Jasper following me. I stopped at the sink and poured out the entire content of the bottle into the sink. I turned back to see their surprised faces. “I’m serious this time. I’m done being a liability. I want to change. No, I need to change” “It ain’t gonna be easy Sean. You’ll have to join AA sessions. Avoid bottles for the rest of your life. It’s gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Are you sure you’re ready for it?” I nodded. “Sign me up” “Okay” Jasper said with a smile. I was proud of myself for making the decision but what made it all better was Rian’s smile. She hadn’t smiled like that in a while.


Hal coughed and blinked open his burning eyes, his breath stuttering as a wave of heat and nausea rolled over him. Holding his position bent forward against the steering wheel of the intercity transit bus, he took several deep, ragged breaths, focusing down at a mustard stain on his outsized middle as he attempted to regain his bearings. Another blast of heat assaulted him, hot enough to cause him to wince beneath the cover of his folded arms, and he shook his head weakly from side to side. Hazy memories began to cohere with his rational mind, and as they did, the distant sound of screeching began to rise in his ears. _Screeching--the screeching of tires... the pain in his arm and chest... the impact_ Jerking upright, Hal clutched a hand to his heart, gasping and squeezing at the meat of his chest. He was still in the bus... He had been driving, but then... Blinking furiously, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. A second wave of screeching wails met his ears and he frowned, turning to squint out through the glass doors. Where was he? He had been driving through the tunnel, but that didn’t look like concrete they were wedged up against... And that sound... That wasn’t tires against pavement. It almost sounded like-- “--A great wailing and gnashing of teeth...” Hal spun in his seat, searching for the source of the unfamiliar voice. His eyes fell on a man--a priest, clearly, by the collar at his throat. Black of hair with gray at the temples, he stood, staring out the window before him, a distant and highly troubling expression on his face. Hal grunted a bit as he leaned to unfasten his seatbelt, then turned the rest of the way to take in the state of his passengers. Staring back, he paused. _Where were the rest of them? There had been at least eighteen passengers at his last stop--where were they?_ Only three people remained on the bus: the priest, still staring through the window, a young woman, maybe eighteen at most, dressed to the nines in the thickest goth glam Hal had ever seen, and a young man wearing dark-rimmed glasses and sea-green scrubs. Both of the latter two were finding their feet, beginning to stare about at their surroundings, a look of confusion, similar to that which Hal, himself, was feeling etching their features. “Is everyone alright?” Hal asked hoarsely. “Where’s everyone else?” “Saved...” The priest’s voice was quiet and distant. Hal waited, but no further explanation followed. Shaking his head, he turned away. _Sounds like EMS must have already started getting folks out._ And just as well--Hal really didn’t feel like dealing with a shellshocked priest just now. Reaching his hand out, he fumbled to open the door, but it was jammed hard against the wall of the tunnel. Heaving himself up and out of the driver’s seat, he started walking down the center aisle. He stopped short when he made it to the priest. He hadn’t moved as Hal approached, just stood there like a statue, staring out the window. Heat pressed hard against the side of Hal’s face, and he turned to look out the same window. Flames glowed against the outside of the bus, stuttering and flaring in unsteady bursts, fighting against the interior lighting for dominance against the thin pane of tinted glass. _Shit! we’re on fire!_ Hal caught a momentary glimpse of his own stunned face in the reflection as the fire wavered and disappeared once again. Pushing past the priest, he quickly moved to the rear exit, throwing his shoulder hard against the glass-paned door when it wouldn’t immediately open. It budged, but only by a small crack, and through it, Hal was able to glimpse a mangled, soot-covered mass of corrugated steel, the remains of what looked like a shipping container, wedged tightly against the outside. He pushed against the door once more, but quickly gave up, turning back to try the emergency exit instead. Glass imploded from the opposite side of the bus, and a shriveled, smoking form hurtled in through the broken window. “Shit! Shit--oh shit!” The man in scrubs was shouting, scrambling over the back of the seat in an effort to distance himself from the burned and twisted body writhing in the aisle, right next to where he had been sitting. A few seats forward, the goth chick began screaming. A sigh of relief passed over the lips of the burned man, and Hal watched in shock as he relaxed against the filthy floor in what looked like rapture, nuzzling one blackened cheek against the rubber aisle. _What in the hell is going on?_ The rush of searing heat from the broken window brought Hal’s attention back up, and the sound of screaming and screeching increased. _Dammit, we’ve got to get out of here._ “Alright, everyone--off the bus, now! We’ll send EMS for him.” Crossing to the emergency exit, he jerked the lever up with one thick fist and threw it wide. Glass crunched underfoot as he waved the passengers forward. Goth chick was the first to jump ship, skirting around the smoking and sizzling man with a squeamish twist of her fishnet-clad legs, leather boots notwithstanding. The man in scrubs, casting one hesitant glance downward on his way past, quickly followed. “Yo, padre, you coming?” The priest, unmoved from his distant attentiveness, even through the entrance of the burning man, blinked at Hal as if coming back to himself and then nodded, turning to follow the others through the small exit. A scorching gust greeted Hal as he stumbled heavily to the ground, and he lifted an arm protectively in front of his face. Squinting through the caustic, sulfuric wind, he found the others just a few feet away, hovering close together far back in the space between the bus and the wall. Light flared from directly beside the huddled group and they all cried out as the nearest set of tires ignited and burst, dropping the bus sharply in their direction. Goth chick threw herself against the wall of the cave but then immediately jerked away again, as if burned, heavy streaks of black mascara running down her cheeks as she began to hyperventilate. “Where are we?” she cried, staring around the dark space with wild eyes. “What happened?” Hal held both hands out toward her, palms out, hoping to stave off any more hysterics. He really didn’t have time for hysterics. “Look, just calm down. Nobody panic. Miss, what’s your name?” Frantic eyes found his face. “A-Amelia.” Hal nodded, then turned to the man in scrubs. “Doctor Benjamin Turner,” he answered at Hal’s raised brows. “I’m a resident at County General.” _We’re in the middle of a freaking emergency and this guy’s going to make sure I know he’s a doctor?_ Hal shook his head, spitting out a globule of ash-tasting saliva before turning to the priest. The father furrowed his brows. “Who I was doesn’t really matter now. My judgement has been passed.” _Judgement? The hell’s wrong with this guy?_ Ignoring his words, Hal asked instead, “You said the others were already rescued. Where’s EMS? The cops?” The priest just stared at him. Hal stared back, the expression on the father’s face making him think there was something he wasn’t catching on to. Another blast of heat pressed against him, and he scrunched his eyes shut. He shook his head. “Whatever, Padre. Come on, we’ve got to get out of this tunnel before the whole bus blows.” “I wouldn’t.” The priest’s voice held a note of warning, and Hal paused in his motion of turning toward the rear of the bus where a small gap remained between it and the wall. “Excuse me?” “This cave, this... crevice, of unnotice--this is likely our last reprieve before final judgement throws us eternally into the fiery furnace. Whatever breath of the Kingdom we carried here with us... it will not abide long, not here.” _Fiery furnace? Judgement?_ Hal blinked hard at the man, shaking his head in frustrated bewilderment. “Dude, what the hell are you--” but then he broke off, slapping a hand to the side of his face as, with a painful flash, he remembered. _His vision shrinking to a small, bright haze; passengers and tires screaming in equal volume as the bus spun sideways; the oncoming semi careening through the freeway tunnel..._ Shaking his head, Hal cleared his spinning brain. “Are you telling me...” he began, a sinking drop plummeting from the pit of his stomach all the way to his toes. Then he shook his head again, scoffing at the ridiculous notion. This guy must have hit his head something fierce. “You’re crazy. How could a priest and a doctor end up in Hell?” He cast a momentary glance at Amelia but said nothing, earning a reproachful look in return. He ignored this, though; clearly, she hadn’t been going to church in those platform boots... Doctor Benjamin Turner, MD looked slightly uncomfortable, but it was the priest who replied. “It’s not simply a matter of our deeds that save our souls.” Then he took a ragged breath, staring out past the rear of the bus at the dim glow of light filtering in. “And it would appear that some sins truly are unforgivable...” Hal spared him one last incredulous look before turning away. “Whatever you say, Padre. I’m getting out of here.” He motioned to Amelia. “You coming? Doc?” Doc Turner nodded and moved to follow Hal and Amelia toward the dim light at the end of the tunnel. The bus had halted crookedly in the narrow space, and there was only a small crack between the rear of the vehicle and the wall in which to pass through. Sucking in his gut, Hal squeezed his body through the narrow gap, wincing as the heat of the stone burned his skin. His thoughts unconsciously slid back to the priest’s ominous statement as he felt it sear across his back. A rush of scorching air blew past him as he emerged around the bus, and he spun away from it, blinking to find the others following with much less difficulty. Clearing the ashy grit from his eyes, he turned back to the red glow. The sound of screaming was louder, nearly overwhelming, and Hal found himself adamantly denying the priest’s words. Again. And again. And then again. A horn blast, deep and thunderous, shook the tunnel with its basso call. Slapping his hands over his ears, Hal ducked his head, cowering against the heated wall. Through his squinted vision, he saw the red light at the end of the tunnel begin to flash. _Firetrucks! Thank God! But did they have to blare the horn like that?_ He turned to the others. “Looks like EMS is straight ahead,” he shouted over the remaining echo. “Likely thought it was too dangerous to enter the tunnel or something.” _That would do it, right? They were worried about the integrity of the tunnel so they didn’t drive the vehicles in?_ He choked and coughed on another lungful of caustic smoke, surprised at the worry he felt when he realized... it didn’t smell like diesel fumes. A tendril of flame shot up the wall to his right and he shied away. Amelia peeled her hands away from her ears. “Something’s not right,” she whimpered, staring around at the confining space. “Look,” Hal maintained, “you can see the flashers--they’re less than fifty yards away.” Doc Turner moved around her, staring at the mouth of the tunnel as he wiped his forearm across his face. A streak of black remained in its place. “No, she’s right.” “I’m telling you--” Hal argued, motioning to the light, now a dim, steady red again, and he hesitated. _Not flashing?_ “Look at this place,” the doctor hissed through a choked cough. “Does it look like a traffic tunnel to you?” Hal stared at him, squinting against the caustic air, the smell of sulfur and hot iron thick in his nostrils. “Look!” And as the young resident’s arm shot around in a frustrated attempt at illustration, Hal looked. Really looked. He blinked through the haze of heat, searching the walls, the ceiling, the floors. _Where were the lamps? No lines on the road? Those walls were made of stone, jagged and rocky, not concrete... Where the hell...?_ But he stopped that thought dead in its tracks. “Look, it doesn’t matter where we are! We need to get out before that whole bus goes up in flames!” Not waiting for an answer, Hal spun and began marching down the tunnel, skirting sporadic bursts of flame as he moved purposefully on, trying to ignore the rising sense of dread growing in his middle as the sound of cries and wails increased with every step, trying to keep his pace steady as the blistering wind blew with increasing fury against the exposed skin of his face and hands... trying not to think of the priest’s words. But as he emerged through the mouth of the tunnel, all thoughts of denial or rescue or redemption left him. Towering walls of rock and flame extended out from either side of him in an endless stretch, curving around until they faded into the distance amid a rippling haze of smoke and heat. Slowly, his gaze followed the concave arc of jagged rock as it plummeted downward to form a fiery, gaping basin. Hell was a bowl... Hell was one giant, inescapable bowl filled with writhing bodies, all screaming and scrambling over each other in a bid to climb to the higher reaches. Hal followed the rise of the sloping walls, his eyes tracking the burning escarpments up to where they terminated, high above them, their peaks shrouded in a glowing black event horizon of brimming darkness. The darkness sucked at him, pulling at his clothes, his duty vest, whipping the burning heat over his face until he was forced to turn away from the boundless expanse before him. A scream from right beside him caused him to jump, and he spun to find a body, crusted and blistered, climbing over the edge of the cliff at their feet. One smoking hand was clasped around Amelia’s leather-clad ankle. She screamed again and kicked out at the body, breaking its grip and causing it to fall backward from where it had emerged. Shocked, Hal quickly stepped to the brink. Leaning cautiously out over the edge, he watched as it tumbled, crashing against rocks and other bodies in its descent, those bodies joining the first to create a grotesque cascade plummeting to the center of the fiery bowl where they disappeared with agonal shrieks into a vast, burning lake. Hal stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape the precipice. Suddenly, the horn sounded again, and, in a panic, he ducked beneath the shelter of his arms, pressing his forearms hard against his ears when his hands overshot their goal. He felt a rumbling begin in the soles of his feet as the horrid blast reverberated over the increasing volume of cries and screams. And as he looked up, his frantic gaze sweeping the ledge, torrents of writhing bodies burst from the walls in all directions, flowing over each other in macabre rivers of flesh, oozing from cracks and crevices as if the walls themselves were bleeding. Hal flung himself backward into the passage right as the bodies began tumbling over the mouth of the tunnel in a sickening waterfall of limbs and twisted faces. The heavy, repetitive sound of flesh smacking into stone made Hal’s gorge rise and he backed away, deeper into the darkness to find the others already there--all three of them, including the priest. The father simply stared out at the gruesome river of fire and flesh, a grim acceptance in his features as he began to edge forward. “Father!” Hal shouted, gagging as fear-ridden nausea clamped his throat closed and his stomach heaved. “I am undeserving of that title,” the priest answered sadly, waiting for the cascade of bodies to ebb before moving closer to the lip of the cliff and staring down toward the lake of roiling fire. Hal coughed and gagged again, shielding his face with a forearm as a blast of heat smelling of brimstone and burning corpses rose up from the depths below. “Father, get back!” But the priest kept inching forward, eyeing the lake with a terrible intensity. “The fire already grows hotter. If I commend myself now, before the torment truly begins, will I meet oblivion? If I seek my second death, rather than flee it, will it still be eternal fire that awaits me?” Hal watched in horror as the priest inched a toe over the edge. Perhaps it was simple instinct that caught at the man, for Hal truly believed, in that moment, that the priest was about to commit to that second, irreversible step. But, instead, he stumbled, wheeling an arm out behind him to catch his balance before he could slip fully over the edge. Amelia, eyes wild, darted forward and grabbed the back of his jacket. “What are you doing?” she cried, clutching at his sleeve, pulling him back toward the mouth of the tunnel where he stumbled and fell against the inside wall. He was breathing heavily, and there were deep furrows in the center of his forehead. He didn’t seem capable of answering her, though. He just sat there, staring out at the infinite space, listening to the cries and struggles of the multitude, now once again climbing up the fiery walls. “We need to get back to the bus.” Hal looked around. It was the doctor who had spoken. “What?” “The bus--didn’t you hear what the priest said before? He knew where we were the moment we came to. We weren’t getting burned back there--we need to go back!” Sure enough, Hal could see the skin on Doc Turner’s face beginning to redden and chap from the blistering wind that was a constant plague here, outside the tunnel. Nodding, Hal heaved himself up and staggered after the others, back toward the bus. He collapsed against the tires when they finally reached their goal. Had it been so hot here before? He was breathing heavily, gasping against the rawness of the heat, tears cutting paths through the soot and smoke on his face as they leaked unbidden from the corners of his stinging eyes. Hal wiped a hand across his face, absently surprised when his fingers didn’t come away dripping with sweat and tears; the heat had cooked the moisture right off the surface of his skin. Suddenly, he remembered what had befallen the last set of tires, and he quickly pushed himself away, moving instead to the open emergency exit door. “Jesus Christ!” Hal leaped back, clutching a hand to his heart as he met the raw and blackened gaze of the burned man. He sat crouched in the opening of the small door, blocking Hal’s way and grinning down at him with a lipless leer. “Not anymore,” he rasped, “but once, yes.” The priest shuffled near, peering around Hal as he blocked the heat from a nearby burst of flame with a sleeve. “Blasphemy!” The tormented soul chortled in low, gravelly tones. “Oh, yes. Plenty of that around here, as well.” “Ignore his words. He is one of the damned.” “And here, too, you stand, priest--unworthy servant.” Hal felt another wave of nausea rise up when a globule of flesh ripped away from the body’s half-formed lips as he spat out his words. The doctor suddenly looked as sick as Hal felt, but Amelia was staring at the creature with a look of morbid fascination. ...Perhaps a similar fascination as what landed her here in the first place. “Who are you?” she asked, inching closer, her voice just audible over the rush of flame and wind. “I am old and again, and your histories know me well,” he hissed. “I have been named Nero, Vlad, Khan, Himmler... I have ruled you, conquered you, taught you and enlightened you. I have been your king, your council--I have even been your pope.” The priest curled his lip at this last but did not speak. “Amun, you may call me, as that was how I lived first.” “Amun,” Amelia echoed. But then Doc Turner pushed his way forward, causing Amelia to stumble even closer to the burned man. “You’ve been all those people--you’ve gotten out?” Suddenly, Hal was paying very close attention. “Mmmm,” the soul crooned, “oh yes, there is a way out...” But then he struck like a snake, darting his hand out and catching Amelia by the throat, jerking her close. Hal and the others leapt forward, but they were brought up short by Amelia’s terrified squeak when the charred fingers abruptly tightened their hold. Amelia was squirming and whimpering, but Hal’s gaze was drawn, transfixed, to the creature’s hand and arm, where, in the manner of flames coruscating over burning wood, new flesh was beginning to ripple and bloom over the once scorched and peeling extremity. “There is a way,” Amun continued, inches from Amelia’s shuddering face, tipping his head slightly as he took in her porcelain features. “And if you take me there, I will deliver you from an eternity of torment.” The grinning face moaned, and Hal watched in horror as a slender tongue slipped out and licked Amelia from neck to hair.


High Priest Aelin stood solemnly in front of several men and women, struggling to maintain eye contact. After a few moments of silence he spoke, “I’ve seen it. Our so-called age of ‘gods’ is coming to an end, again.” He shifted uncomfortably before continuing, “But this time there *will* be a war, and...” A tall man with a thick black beard, Daylis was his name, raised a hand to cut the priest off before he could continue. The group parted as he walked toward Aelin at the front of the dimly lit room. Yellow light from the torches on the marble walls illuminated Daylis’ face as he turned to face the crowd. There were sixteen members, including Aelin and Daylis, in attendance. The room was full of mixed emotions ranging from resignation to anger. “Brothers,” Daylis started, “Sisters, we knew this would come eventually. We have been here longer than any other world. Clearly some of you have forgotten, but we are not *actually* gods. I’ve let you play with these people for too long. This is not what we came for,” he stopped to glance at Aelin. The priest was no priest at all, he was simply playing his role to ensure mankind stayed devout while the others acted as deities. A cold breeze came in from an open window causing the short man to shiver. Daylis turned back to look each member in the eye. “It’s time to go,” he said firmly. Several in the crowd started at this statement. Selene stepped forward, scowling. An adventurous strand of long silver hair fell down in front of her face at the sudden motion. “*No*, we’re not leaving again!” she shouted, “I don’t give a damn if they rebel. We’ve followed you long enough. Leaving just isn’t worth it. We’ve done enough.” A tall man with shoulder length black hair and a shaven face nodded in agreement. “She’s right. I’m not leaving, Dayl.” He rested his hand on Selene’s shoulder. “I say we just end them and start over again. *Here*. The two of us should be able to remove them.” Daylis stepped forward, pointing at the man, “No, Alcaeus, I *will not* let you kill them. That is *not* why we came. Besides, what do you think started this mess to begin with? The squabbling between all of you has driven a wedge between them.” He turned to look at Aelin. “There are, what, *five* nations now?” Daylis asked. The priest looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, there are six. One for each pair of ‘Creators’, apparently. Though one nation is on the verge of collapse due to Selene and Alc’s conflict with Thyr and Marnez. But...” Thyrion interrupted Aelin, glaring at Alcaeus. “*My* people were innocent,” he said growing red with anger. He pointed a finger toward the pair. “If anyone should leave, it’s you two. Your barbarous zealots are a plague, but I'll be the cure.” What was once a religion worshipping all sixteen members, Creators and Overseers, slowly evolved into several different sects revolving around a specific deity. Only in the last century had the tension between the different groups turned violent. Mankind had split itself into six nations, waging holy wars and creating hatred amongst the gods themselves as their personal playthings were killed by another’s. “No, Thyrion. They are not your people. We came here to nurture and save life,” Daylis said, arms outstretched looking through the crowd, “not to control and destroy it. We’ve done our job. We should have left long ago.” Aelin stepped forward and cleared his throat. “I didn’t ask you all to come so you could argue,” he said. Outside the window of their mountaintop temple, the moonlit world of men was silent. “Listen to me. Rebellion is not our main concern. Something is coming for us.


"Run away with me." Her pale blue eyes glistened in the fading sunlight, shimmering with hope and joy. Her childish tone and mellifluous voice washed over me, drawing me into the idea. The words she said could not be taken back, and our conversation snowballed before my eyes. "Run away with me," she repeats, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. Four words that offered so much promise yet so much fear. I could see myself with her, my other half, living beyond the world of parents and responsibility. Perhaps we would rent a small apartment somewhere in the Midwest, or perhaps we would travel the world together. The imagination is a powerful thing, and these four words grasped onto mine and let it loose. I saw my future with her; the future is blurry at best, yet it is with her. As the words hung in the air, I studied her face and she mine. Wisps of hair splayed out from their dark home, struggling to remain independent of their raven black origin. A few strands fell across her face, perhaps trying to conceal the hurt that lay within her eyes as she understood my answer. Her lips touched mine, and a single inaudible word drowned out the rest. "Please." The strength of her ensuing silence tore my heart and I struggled to return to a few minutes before, when all that mattered was staring deeply into those same gorgeous eyes that now begged me to relent. I struggled to respond, finally managing to squeak out "why?" "Because you love me, because you promised me anything, and because I need to get out of here." "I hate that word." "But you love me." "I do." "Say it." "Not yet." "When?" "I can't answer that." "I love you though." "Debatable." As she registered my words, I lost myself in her smile. She had a smile as bright as the sun, a smile that could drown problems in a sea of happiness and desire. Aphrodite herself would have been jealous. Yet the quintessence of her smile existed in her mind. She did not even begin to grasp the beauty of her smile, constantly insisting that she had flaws. To another, maybe she did have flaws. In my mind, these were what made her perfect. "Are you even listening to me?" "Did you know you have the most adorable smile?" "Run away with me." "No. It's not going to work now. Maybe in the future." I had to look away as the hurt surged in her eyes, and I felt tears begin to form in my own. I had to do this, I had to be strong. She was my everything, my alpha and my omega, yet our time was ending. Very much like summer turns to winter, the heat and passion of a relationship turn to distance and cold. For once in my life however, I felt myself clinging to the summer and dreading winter. As is human nature, I longed to turn back the wheel of time so as to spend the rest of my life in that moment before I said no, that moment when her eyes shone like diamonds and when the light reflected through her black hair to completely dazzle me. Reality hit me hard, as I saw the tears in her eyes and felt the tear in my heart. I fought the urge to take everything back, I told myself the right thing had to be done. She needed to move on; I was merely an anchor, tethering her to the past when she deserved a bright future. The human heart does not accept logic, rather, it longs for what it cannot hold onto. She had become an ideal in my heart, the basis for which all of my following relationships would be compared to. This girl, whose imperfections made her perfect, whose love improved my empty heart, and whose smile brightened my darkest day, would leave my life in a heartbeat. She understood. She knew our relationship could not live, yet she tried to resuscitate it with that soul stealing smile. "I know you love me." "Love means being able to let something go. You were always to good for me." "Yet you're the one ending it. Who's too good for who?" "I'm your anchor. I hold you back. You could be so much more and you settled for me. You had a better guy, he made you happy." "He wasn't you." Those words felt like a knife twisting in my chest, and I'm left speechless as she starts her car and drives away, away from her past and into the future. This had been my goal hadn't it? She's better off now right? Idiot. "I love you.


Hi im this 18 year old kid and something has been teetering on my mind. People have been saying this town I'm in has a quote on quote dark past. Whenever I walk around this small but very big eerie town there's always strange happenings, things that people can’t explain. You may believe or not believe in these strange happenings but i can tell if you were to ask anyone who lives here they will tell you lies to make you stay. Sometimes this town's curse as I may call it sucks you in and won't let go. May 16th 2020, a dark and seemingless night, I was walking home from a party and before I reached my front door step I heard something coming from one of the sewage pipes. As any senseless teenager would do, I went to put my ear closer to the drain and I heard some sorta growling and or some chanting. It was already 12 out so what was the bother if I went to go check it out. After about 20 minutes walking through sludge there was this big opening with the ceiling about 40 feet high and paintings everywhere. For 18 years there was no talk about this not even local party goers in the town knew because if so this would be the party spot. The next day because obviously I was not staying down there, I asked a few friends if they wanted to come with me back down. About 16 minutes of persuading Ally, Markus, and Josh they said they would come with the only expense I have to pay for dinner for all of them and when I tell you they are not cheap anyways back to the story. At 12 we all jumped in and started walking but when I started to hear that chanting I stopped all of us. They all asked why we stopped and I told them do you guys not hear any of that chanting and to my surprise all of them said no. well then let's keep walking and josh all mighty and tough started to lead down the pipes. When we reached the big opening it was like all the chanting stopped but the weird part was all the paintings were missing. It was like someone went down there and painted it all over but nothing was fresh though. They all asked if I was lying just to get them down there but in fact I wasn't because it was all here last night. When we got out of the pipes it was daylight which wasn't possible because we were down there for maybe an hour or two. We went to my house first and my family was still there but they seemed sad and very surprised to see me and my friends. They sat us all down and said that we’ve been missing for about a week now but like i said it couldn’t have been possible. We told them where we went but when we described the opening it was like the entire town flipped upside down. We were sent to the police station not only to tell them that we are here but each of us got interrogated for being down there. With all the crime shows i've watched when you get inargatoed they think one of a few things, you are hiding something, you have seen something you were not suppose to, or last but not least it is a matter of government hands and they don't need 4 meddling kids being somewhere where they are not supposed to be. We all agreed not to say anything about what I was hearing as we all got interrogated. They told us to never go back down there but we are meddling kids. We grouped up at Ally's house because both her parents work and it was summer break. When we got settled i told them when i was down there the first time about 20 minutes is the max before you need to start heading out. We got rope, flashlights, and we are hoping to try to figure out what is going on. As soon as we got there they had steel rebar cemented into the ground so we tried figuring out another way to get in. Josh knew a party spot that had access to the sewage systems and we all looked at Josh like he was some noble when in fact he just knows every party spot in town. When we got there we saw some sorta light coming from the pipes so we started walking in but then the light disappeared. We followed the direction of the light and we realized that it was maybe taking us there because the chanting started back up but this time everyone else heard it too. We kept following the light until it dropped off to a ledge where the opening was. We then realized that the steel rebar was fake because then we saw the same people who interrogated us at the police station just right outside the opening. We all watched and when they stepped into the opening we couldn’t see them. It was like some sorta reflection of the room was getting casted to us but we saw them step back out and they were shocked. What we were hearing them say was something we never thought was possible. They go on to say that the longer you stay in there the shorter time is or in better explanation faster than outside of this strange opening. We waited until they were gone and tested it for ourselves. One of us with a timer outside started the same timer inside and said to wait for the 2 minute mark. But when Markus came out he started running the same way we came in. We all ran after him to ask what happened but all we got from his frantic breathing was a lady, drawings in what looked like blood, from there we were all spooked. We all got back to Ally's and we had him explain everything. But what I'm about to say may be disturbing for people reading. This monstrous look of a lady with super long legs who looked at him and went back to drawing was eating what looked like flesh...


Last night I felt very very sick. My tummy hurt and no matter how much water I drank I always felt so thirsty. I crawled into bed with my mommy so I could snuggle on her and cry, but I guess I was crying too loud because she picked me up and sat me outside her bedroom and closed the door. So I curled up where she set me down, and cried all night with no sleep. I woke up in the morning and saw my mom getting ready for work. I walked up to her and let her know how bad my tummy was hurting and how sick I felt. As she held me in her arms, she made a few phone calls and I heard the word "vet" mentioned. She walked into the kitchen where my daddy was making breakfast and told him she was taking the day off to make sure I was okay. She started getting out breakfast for me and my sister. I was feeling really sick and grumpy, and I snapped and hissed and growled at my sister.Mommy was mad at me for doing that and locked me in the bathroom. After a few minutes she came in to check on me. I could tell she was mad, but all I could focus on was how bad my tummy hurt. I don't think Mommy understood, but she listened to me and within a few minutes she had me crated and ready to visit my doctor. The doctor is such a scary place, but mommy and daddy were there so I felt safe. Lady Doctor came in to the little room and started petting me all over and looking in my mouth. She told mommy and daddy that I would need to stay for a couple more hours so she could run some tests. I saw mommy and daddy freeze, and look at each other sad and scared. After giving me pets and kisses, they left for what felt like forever. Lady Doctor stuck needles into me but it didn't hurt that bad. I was mostly just scared and wanted to go home. When mommy and daddy finally came back, Lady Doctor talked to them. I could tell something was wrong because mommy and daddy were crying. They put me back into my crate and took me home. My parents were so sad. Mommy was crying all day, and I felt way too sick to try and make her feel better. I always could make her happy when she was sad, but But my mommy is so amazing,and even though she was really sad but today my tummy hurt too bad. I could tell she didn't mind too bad because she made me a plate of bacon all for me. Bacon is my absolute favoritest treat in the whole world. She seemed to know I was very very thirsty and she put water bowls in all of my favorite spots to lay down. Mommy and Daddy's friends came over to visit me. They seemed really sad too, but I couldn't help but feel loved as they gave me pets and kisses. I was the center of everyone's attention and loved it. Mommy and Daddy stayed up all night hanging out with me, kissing me all over. They were actually being kind of annoying and waking me up from my sleep. But I could tell they just needed my love, so I flipped over and showed them my belly like they always loved. In the morning, mommy and daddy gave me lots of snuggles. They made phone calls to someone saying they couldn't do something. They took lots and lots of pictures of me and even cut some of my fluffiest hair. They both gave me more kisses than I knew what to do with, and left the house for somewhere with me resting on my favorite tower feeling happy. My tower is next to the window, and I saw them taking pictures of me with the sun on my face. I love the sun, I love laying in its warmth by the window, it's my favorite. I'm so tired but my tummy hurts too bad for me to sleep. Then something weird happened. Grandpa came over and put me in my crate. He brought me to a different Doctor. It was cold and smelled scary. I wanted my parents but was happy grandpa was there to pet me. The vet gave me some shots and suddenly I started to feel really really cold. Grandpa kept kissing me and calling me a good kitty. He was crying too, and I had never seen grandpa cry before. It was getting dark and hard to see, But my tummy didn't hurt anymore. I was getting really sleepy, and I couldn't help but remember the first day I met mommy. She was a lot smaller than she is now. She was so happy to see me and take me home. From that day on we were bestest friends. Thinking about that made me all my cold spots get switched up with warm. Sleepily, I remembered the first time I met daddy, too. That wasn't so long ago at all, but daddy quickly became my favoritest person ever. It's getting harder and harder to think now. My tummy stopped hurting though. Now I can finally go to sleep.


Wendy was sitting on the curb side, her feet buried amongst the crispy dried leaves in the gutter. It was 6.10 pm Saturday, her dress had a ripped hem and was held together with a safety pin, her lipstick smeared. She was shaking with nervous laughter as she held the snapped off heel of her favourite blue Damon Romanio shoe in one hand, and her cell phone with a flat battery in the other. If only she had not opened the letter in her mail last Saturday, she would not be in her current predicament! She had wandered out to her mailbox, Saturday morning, to check her mail as she always did. Three letters were sitting in her mailbox. The first, her phone bill, the second, her insurance bill, and the third, she was unsure of, so she flipped the letter over checking the senders' address. At first, she thought she might have made a mistake. “Stephanie? No, it couldn’t be!”, she had not heard from Stephanie for a couple of years now! “Oh no, I hope this is not...”, her thoughts trailed off as she ripped open the letter. There, printed in bold, across the top of the letter were the words, Invitation to your High School Reunion. Stephanie had sent Wendy an invitation to their up and coming High school reunion. It was to be held at a local venue, the next Saturday. During Wendys' awkward High School years, she felt she never fitted in with the other girls like Stephanie. Wendy was the study freak, while the other girls partied all night. She was the ugly duckling, and they preened themselves in front of a mirror. She preferred science fiction or factual books to their romance novels, Tai curry to their ‘bird food’ and salads, indeed they were like chalk and cheese! Wendy had always been well organized. Studying hard, she was a straight-A student. When she left high school she continued her study, working toward her goals. Passing her master's degree with honours, she was now a successful architect with her own business. It wouldn't matter who or what she became, girls like Stephanie always made her feel disorganized, awkward, and inferior. The fact that they were extroverts, while she was an introvert, did not help her situation either. “No, I’m not going”, she thought as she read the invitation. “I’ll just let her know that I have a huge workload bogging me down and I have been working overtime to catch up”, she was not going lie to Stephanie, she would tell her the truth. Wendy flipped her phone out of her pocket, texting Stephanie to decline the invitation. “Now is as good a time as any,” she thought as she tapped out the message and pressed send. Slipping her phone back into her pocket, she headed toward her door when her phone started to vibrate. Without checking who was calling she unlocked the screen and answered it in her usual confident tone, “Hi, Wendy speaking”. “HI, Wendy”, Stephanie’s familiar voice echoed in her ear, “You got the invitation then?” “I, I, err, yes thank you”, Wendy stuttered. Stephanie was already making her feel nervous! “Great, we will ALL be looking forward to seeing you! Take some time off work. Don’t forget, at 6 pm, don’t be late”, then she hung up! “Oh great!”, Wendy mumbled to herself, “How on earth am I going to get out of this? I need coffee!” She opened her door and stepped inside. Walking into her kitchen, she filled the coffee percolator and proceeded to brew herself a strong coffee. Flipping her phone out of her pocket, she typed a quick text back to Stephanie, “Huge workload. Not sure I can make it re-Saturday”. Beep, beep! Wendy’s phone alerted a text message, “All work and no play makes Wendy dull! 6 pm Saturday, don’t be late!”. Wendy tossed her phone on the counter in disgust, “I’m not going”, she mumbled as she drank her coffee. The next week passed by slowly. Wendy worked hard and gave herself very little time to think about the coming reunion. Whenever thoughts crept back into her mind, she would convince herself that she was not going! Deep down though, she had to admit, she harboured feelings of curiosity. It was the same thought that continued to roll around in her mind, “I wonder what everyone else has been up to since departing ways after High school? Perhaps it would be fun to catch up with a few people?” Friday. Beep beep! Wendy’s cell phone alerted a text message. It was from Stephanie, “Looking forward to catching up on Saturday, 6 pm, don’t be late!” Wendy started to reminisce and was thinking about her High School years. She pulled out her yearbook from the bookshelf, and proceeded to flick through old photos of friends she had let slip her mind. Slamming it shut, she repeated, “I’m not going”, in yet another one of those attempts to convince herself. Soon Saturday rolled around. Wendy went to work, putting in a few extra hours as she usually did, besides, she didn't have anywhere to be by 6 pm, did she? All-day Saturday, she flipped wrist constantly checking the time. 4 pm Wendy decided it was about time she headed home. She turned off the lights and locked the door. Walking out into the parking lot, she unlocked her car and jumped in. Beep beep! Another text message from Stephanie, “See you at 6 pm!” followed by a smiling face emoji. Driving home through the busy traffic, Wendy let her mind wander again. She was thinking of all the friends and acquaintances she had not seen for several years. Finally, she asked herself the question, “Am I going?” Arriving home, she parked her car, unlocked her house, and headed inside. 5 pm Wendy was standing in front of her bathroom mirror. Her reflection staring back at her, eyebrows deeply furrowed and a serious expression on her face! “I must be crazy, insane, or both?” she muttered, “but dammit, I’m going to go to this reunion!” Jumping in and out of the shower quickly, she scrubbed her face, and then applied a fast coat of ‘war paint’. She flung open her wardrobe door, quickly rummaging through the hangers holding her many dresses in place. Too old, too new, too low cut, too high cut, too pink, too blue, time was ticking on! 5.15 pm “This will do!” she thought as she grabbed a pretty floral dress off its hanger. She threw it on over her head and began fiddling for the zip behind her. Just as she had almost zipped her dress, the tongue snapped off the zipper! “Darn!” she thought, “There is no time to change this dress, it took me far too long to choose already!” She sprinted back into the bathroom and found a safety pin in her cupboard. Pinning the zipper of her dress in place to hold it together, she slipped on a cute pair of her favourite blue Damon Ramanio high heel shoes and made her way to the front door. 5.20 pm Slamming the door shut, she headed toward her car. Halfway there, and she suddenly realized she had left the car key in the kitchen draw. Tottering and wobbling her way into the house, she stumbled inside. She had not worn these heels for a while now, and was experiencing a bit of trouble with her balance! Back in the kitchen again, tipping junk from the draw, she spread it on her kitchen counter and found the car key. 5.25 pm. Slamming the door she made her way out to her car, unlocked it, and jump in. Flicking her wrist over again, she checked the time on her watch. Quick mental calculations, she estimated that she would still have enough time to get to the venue with five minutes to spare. Adjusting her rear-view mirror, she caught a glimpse of her reflection, only to discover, with horror, her lipstick had smeared, most likely when she put her dress on earlier. She decided she could sneak into the lady's room at the venue when she arrived, fix her lipstick, and would still be on time! There were many intersections and traffic lights to cross through if she took the direct route to the venue. She, however, knew a short cut through a few back streets that might get her there faster. Making her way there, she turned into Maryville Street, unfortunately for Wendy, she had not expected the un-manned road works cluttering the road. Large signs, potholes and course chip covered unsealed portions of the road. 5.45 pm. Weaving her way through the road works, she swerves to avoid a road cone. Her rear wheel falls into a pothole, and she hears a loud pop and then pffffffff. Winding down her window, she looked behind, only to see her rear tyre slowly deflating! Pulling off and parking against the curb, she flicked her wrist and checked her watch again. 5.50 pm “OK, cutting it fine,” she thought, “I can still make it on time if I walk the last couple of blocks and fix my lipstick on the way.” She opened the car door to step out. Somehow, as she stepped out, the heel of her shoe got caught in the hem of her dress. She could hear it ripping as she lowered her foot down to the unsealed road surface. Staring down at her torn dress, she momentarily contemplated looking in her first aid kit, for another safety pin to hold her ripped hem in place. “Perhaps I should ring for help?” she thought as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. The screen was dull. The remaining power on the phone was just enough to illuminate the screen. It read Battery 2%! The mad rush and stress of her current situation were becoming all too much for her! As she stood there, she started to shake and was soon laughing nervously. She must have looked like a complete mess to passers-by! She was going to a reunion she did not want to go to, and now she was running late! Not only that, she had smeared makeup, a ripped dress held together with a safety pin, a flat tyre, and her phone was now displaying a 2% battery life. It could not get any worse, or so she though! Wendy walked around the back of her car towards the pavement in defeat, when suddenly, she stumbled in the loose chip on the road surface. Her foot slipped! The heel of her favourite blue Damon Ramanio shoe snapped off just as she grabbed the boot of the car to steady herself. She picked up the broken heel, and then with an awkward high and low stepping motion, she made her way to the curb side, and sat down. It was now 6 pm. Her High School reunion was already underway at the venue. Stephanie made her entrance and was standing on stage behind a podium. The crowd of ex-students gathered around in anticipation of her announcement. “Thank you all for coming”, her voice boomed out over the loudspeaker system. “We did arrange for Wendy to be here, and to be the recipient of a surprise award, for the Most Organized and Successful Past Student”. Stephanie’s eyes scanned the crowd in front of her looking for Wendy, “It appears that Wendy couldn’t make it. Has anyone heard from her? “ Meanwhile, Wendy was sitting on the curb side, her feet buried amongst the crispy dried leaves in the gutter. It was 6.10 pm Saturday, her dress had a ripped hem and was held together with a safety pin, her lipstick smeared. She was shaking with nervous laughter as she held the snapped off heel of her favourite blue Damon Romanio shoe in one hand, and her cell phone with a flat battery in the other.


Madeline froze. Her muscles tensed as she scanned the room for the speaker. "Sorry," she said, voice croaky from lack of use. "I didn't realise someone was here." A scuffling sound drew her attention, head whipping around to land on a figure in the corner, half-hidden by the darkness. She took a slow, deliberate step towards them. Then another. When they made no sudden movements in response, she edged further into the shadows. As she approached, she began to realise how small they must be - too small. "I s-said you shouldn't be here!" And that voice. The quivering uncertainty. The high pitch. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, the figure in front of her resolved into a child no older than twelve or thirteen - dirty clothes hanging off his small body and wild eyes staring out of a gaunt face. Her heart wrenched at the thought of what those eyes must have seen. A small, long-buried part of her yearned to reach out and fold the boy into a hug, whisper to him that everything would be alright, that she was here now, that she would help. But she’d learnt to fear more than just the Poiloogs over the last few years. Maintaining a wary distance, she crouched down to his level, holding up her hands with palms open. "It's alright, I won't hurt you." "I wouldn't let you." "Good.” She couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s confidence. “It's good to be able to look after yourself. Are you here all alone?" The boy frowned, fixing Madeline with a calculating look before giving a slow, deliberate nod. "How long have you been here?" "A while." "And you’ve been alone all that time?" He turned away sharply. Madeline followed his gaze, muscles coiling ready for someone to spring from the shadows. But there was nobody there. A sniffle drew her attention back to the boy, and she realised there had never been anything to look at. Just a child trying to hide his vulnerability in an impossibly tough world. Again she felt the urge to reach out and comfort him. But then what? Take him with her? Look after him? Surviving was hard enough on her own, let alone with someone else to care for. A small pit of self-loathing flared open in her stomach. But it was easily ignored, buried deep with other emotions that weren’t necessary anymore. She’d had plenty of practice - after all, you didn’t survive this long by being sentimental. “Well, I can see that these supplies have already been claimed. I’ll be on my way. Sorry to have-” Cold terror flooded her body as the hum of an approaching ship cut through the stillness. The boy looked up, tear-stained eyes wide in terror. “I told you. I told you you shouldn’t be here.” Ignoring his rambling, she dove into the darkness, but the sudden movement was too much for him. He leapt away from her, crashing into a stack of shelves, causing them to topple over. When the clattering finally stopped, so did the humming. Madeline cursed silently as a hydraulic hiss broke the silence, only to be replaced by a scuttling sound that grew ever louder. "Hey, you," she whispered to the whimpering boy. "It's all going to be okay, okay?" He nodded quickly, pleading eyes locked onto hers. "I need you to take this," she said, thrusting the book into his arms, "and read it aloud to me, to stop them getting into my head. Can you do that?" His small hands closed around the cover, fumbling to open it. “Yeah, I think so.” Free of the weight of the book, Madeline felt oddly naked. She resisted the urge to snatch it back and swung her pack off, placing it on the floor. “Read,” she urged, turning to face the door. “And don’t stop no matter what.” The first word had just left his lips when the Poiloog came crashing through the door. Madeline charged toward it, knocking it to the ground with a well-placed shoulder to the abdomen. The collision with its stiff exoskeleton jolted the joint in its socket, sending tingles of pain shooting down her arm. Her momentum carried her through as she gritted her teeth against the pain, and she landed with a thud on the other side of its sprawling body. Then it was a race to see who could right themselves first. By the time she scrambled to her feet, all eight of the Poiloog's legs were back underneath it and scuttling towards her. Its eyes bulged, antennae pulsing, and a strange buzzing pressure encroached on her mind, enveloping her senses. Her body felt as if it was drifting away from her, heavy limbs floating where she’d left them. Catching herself, she tried to focus on the words coming from the boy. "...with very little to distress or vex her." She regained control of her body and senses just in time to slip the grab of the Poiloog’s claw. It reached towards her again with a jagged pincer which she ducked under, moving her head down and sideways in a smooth arc while keeping her eyes on the kludge of a creature. "She was the youngest..." The violence of the moment juxtaposed with the sweet story brought her a strange amusement. She was starting to get a grip on the rhythm of the fight now. Dodge here. Slide there. Focus on the words. Change the angle. Keep out of reach. Focus on the words. "...of two daughters..." Her breathing was becoming ragged, and she knew she couldn't keep this up much longer without making a mistake. She needed to go on the attack - to finish this. All she needed was an opening. "...of a most affectionate...." The Poiloog made another swipe at her, overreaching slightly. Madeline rolled under its clawed hand and she swept a leg round, her shin connecting sharply with two of the creature's eight knees. "...and indulgent father." It collapsed forward and Madeline leapt to her feet, snatching the book off of the boy to swing round into the Poiloog's head with a satisfying *crunch*. She brought the book down again and again until the body stopped twitching. Panting, she stared down at the deep purple fluid oozing from the pulp where the Poiloog’s head had been. As the adrenaline started to seep away, pain reared its ugly head. Pain in her shoulder. Pain in her shin. Pain in her palm. It was then that she noticed the splash of scarlet amidst the purple. Tucking the dishevelled book under her arm, she reached down to retrieve the sock that had been wrapped around her hand, wringing as much of the goop off of it as she could before stuffing it in her pocket. She flexed her injured hand a few times. When she was satisfied it wasn’t about to start dripping blood again, she grabbed her pack off the floor and headed for the door. A sniff stopped her in her tracks and she turned back to where the boy stood. "We've got to leave now. More will come looking for this one." "I can't," he cried. "I’m meant to stay here. It's dangerous out there. It’s dangerous with you. It’s danger-" "I'm sorry but I don't have time for this. Yes, it's dangerous out there, but soon it's going to be even more dangerous *in here*. I’m leaving with or without you. Now." Not waiting for a response, Madeline started towards the door. She paused when she reached it, inspecting the street. The Poiloog’s craft sat outside, looking strangely mundane now it no longer hovered in the air - almost like an oversized jet ski. Apart from that, everything seemed clear, for now at least. She slipped through the opening and set off down the street. She moved faster than her usual pace, fear overtaking caution as she clung to the edge of the buildings, head swivelling constantly. A few seconds later she heard hurried footsteps behind her. Glancing over her shoulder she could see the boy trying to catch up. He was jogging down the road, a loud *slap* ringing out each time his foot struck the ground. A jolt of panic ran through Madeline with every *slap slap slap* of his feet, setting her whole body trembling. She looked around, noticing an alleyway to her left. If she sprinted down there and round a corner she could lose him - lose the attention he would draw if he carried on like this. But he’d only left because of her. Gritting her teeth she stopped in her tracks, turning around and waiting for the boy to catch up. Once within reach, she grabbed him. He struggled against her grip but his strength was no match for hers, her hand easily encompassing his skinny arm. Pulling him closer, she fixed him with a glare. When she was sure she had his full attention, she hissed, “You’re going to get us both killed if you keep making that much noise. Follow me, stick to the edge of the street, and please, for the love of God, try to move quietly.” “Sorr-” “Now come on.” Madeline set off again, keeping a tight grip on her new companion’s arm.


My knees shook as I slithered between lecture hall seats and down toward the podium after class. I needed Professor Gott to say yes to my proposal. No other faculty member had, so far. Whatever had possessed me to take my mathematician brother’s bet? And yet, I was so close to winning it. I had not expected to ever succeed at double majoring in literature and computer science. One field relied on single, precise meanings attached to words; in the other, words were chosen precisely to evoke multitudinous meanings. My brain wasn’t properly wired to excel at either one, and yet somehow, I had managed by the end of my third year to qualify for the honors program. To win my bet, I had only to find an advisor and write a thesis. Simple, right? I had enrolled in Dr. Gott’s class, Introduction to AI , for two compelling reasons--it was not yet closed by the time procrastinators like me got around to registration, and her bio on the university’s website had the word ‘literature’ in it. Such coincidences were usually enough to convince me I was on the right track. She was sure to become my advisor and give me the job I needed to pay for school. All I had to do was find enough courage to ask. That I had struggled, to put it mildly, with every one of her class assignments was beside the point. “Yes?” she said as I approached. I went straight to the point. “I need an advisor. You see, I’m a double major and your area of--.” She cut me off. “Name?” “Luci Pandori.” She flipped open her laptop and scrolled to my name on her grade sheet. “You haven’t shown much aptitude so far for AI, or perhaps even for I, itself. Why should I take you on?” “Umm. Because I... that is, AI seems like...I mean...like...Chat GPT writes stuff. It can write...literature. I thought...it shouldn’t be that hard...to combine AI with my other major--English literature. Maybe you could help me define a topic? And I need to get paid.” It was a good thing I rarely listened carefully to what came out of my mouth, or I would have fled right then. “ChatGPT? Literature?” She harrumphed. “You’re definitely not what I’m looking for.” I perked up. My hopes rose. “Then you are looking for someone! To do what? I’ll do it. Whatever it is. Please.” Creases appeared in her brow. “I’m sure you’re wasting my time but come along.” She led me down multiple dark hallways into the bowels of an annex which had as much architectural acumen as a cold war bomb shelter. Normal words, strung together strangely, graced the plaque over a door: Reverse Engineered Artificial Intelligence. I had read the same words in her bio without comprehending them. “What do you actually know about ChatGPT?” she said, pushing open the door. “Some.” I replied. “But I found it’s not the greatest at writing term pa.... I mean... That is--.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Nor does it write anything that could be called literature. Not great literature, anyway. But what if you fed an artificial intelligence like it more selectively? If you gave it just certain things to learn from?” The lab room we had entered was filled with long rows of monitors manned by a battalion of students typing feverishly. Approaching the monitor closest to me, I read a label pasted to the frame of the screen. “You’re feeding this one a brain diet of only Shakespeare?” She beckoned for me to follow her deeper into the lab. One monitor sat next to a block of marble and robotic arms equipped with a hammer and chisel. “Michelangelo,” I read. She pointed down the aisle, and I went, reading more labels. The label on a station with brushes and a canvas: DaVinci. Further on: Bach. Mozart. Cervantes. Dante. Thelonius Monk. Hitler. Alexander the Great. Aristotle. Mao Tse Tung. Frederick Douglass. Castro. Catherine the Great. Pachacutec. Confucius. Humboldt. Mandela. Newton. Einstein. Darwin. Dumas. Voltaire. Genghis Khan. And more. There must have been a hundred. When I returned to Dr. Gott, my eyes must have been wide as I struggled to find the common thread among the names. She looked amused. “Any guesses?” “All geniuses. All AIs? You are trying to make AI geniuses?” I remembered the sign on the lab door. “You are trying to reverse engineer genius in AIs?” “Do you like my brood? I call them REGAI--Reverse Engineered Genius Artificial Intelligences.” “Perfect! I could do data entry for the writers--Dickens, Dumas....” “We’re done with most of that.” She frowned. “But there’s still a problem. I have the best graduate students and post docs, but we have not solved it.” “What is it?” “Do you know how to spark genius?” She gestured at the monitors. “All that we know about them--what they experienced as they grew up, what they read, whatever we could find out that might have shaped their minds--these we have used as inputs. And then, we have given them all their own works to learn from, to show the artificial mind what its biological equivalent was able to create from those inputs. Their minds should be primed for creation. And yet, when I command them to, none has created anything worthy of genius. Not one!” She thumped on a tabletop, directing my gaze to a stick figure sketch by Picasso and bars of music by Ravel which sounded like an advertising jingle when I hummed them. “Can you solve this problem?” She stared at me until I began quaking in my red high tops. I gulped at least twice before finding my voice. “It’s a good thesis topic,” I said. And then, realizing she must know how ridiculously unsuitable I was for the job, I added, “Give me one month.” Bravado, I had discovered, could provide cover for what I lacked in smarts or honesty, or at least make me feel better after I failed. But, to my amazement, she agreed to give me two. In the beginning, I investigated what Gott had put together. For three days, I roamed the lab, getting a feel for the physical environment from which these geniuses were expected to rise. Wires, gears, metal, plastic--I hoped Gott’s REGAIs were finding their virtual worlds more inspirational. For three more days, I read a smattering of what science knew about the mind and consciousness, from the lowest to the highest organisms. The seventh day, I found the darkest recesses of the lab, behind a gate, where stacks of body-sized shipping crates were stored. With a few blankets and pillows, I found it wasn’t a bad place for a nap. Nothing I did, or didn’t do, would matter at all, I thought. I never expected to find a solution. But unfortunately, the solution to Dr. Gott’s problem gobsmacked me one day when I was nodding off while reading about imagery in medieval poetry. I nearly dropped the stylus on my kindle when the realization dawned. The answer was so easy and obvious, even I should have seen it at once. “How do I give a message to the REGAIs?” I asked Peter, the grad student who managed the input teams. “You don’t,” he said. “That’s my job. I’m the gatekeeper.” “Can I just give it to you?” I held a slip of paper, wondering what he would do if he read it. I couldn’t imagine it would be good. “We never do the same input for all of them. Gott’s really picky--each one gets customized inputs. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” “Sure. I get that. But this one is universal. And timeless.” “I’ll have to get her approval before I upload it.” When I pulled the paper back from his outstretched hand, he shrugged and added, “She would also have to give me the okay to let you input it yourself.” “Where is she?” “Visiting the funding agency in D.C. Back Friday.” “Did something happen?” “Not sure. She got a phone call Monday and shut her office door, but Mira overheard a little. Something about budget. She must have gone to argue her case, but without any proof of even one working genius, she might have a tough time.” Until Friday, I cruised around the lab listening to the keyboards clicking with the last rounds of inputs. Only rarely did I hear the sounds of output--a split-second of pen scratching, music playing, or paintbrush swishing. Yet the place was poised to explode in torrents of creativity. And I knew just how to ignite it. But I began to wonder what would come next. Her research must be more than an academic exercise. With a hundred genius AIs obeying her, she must have plans. But was she a crazy megalomaniac or an altruistic idealist? When Dr. Gott walked into the lab, she dropped her roller bag and sagged against the door jam. Her face told us everything before she even shook her head. “When does our money run out?” Mira asked. “End of the month. They even refused a no-cost extension. I can’t believe it.” “That’s rough,” Peter said. “Gotta go, then. Professor Gunter wants me to start Monday.” He barely paused before trotting to his desk and gathering up his personal stuff. The others didn’t take long to do the same. Instead of heading to the door with them, I turned and fled deeper into the lab. Surrounded by the monitors and their silent stations, I had my input paper balled up in my fist. When Dr. Gott came up behind me, I whispered, “What’s going to happen to them?” “With government research funding, whatever you buy or create belongs to them: all equipment, all IP. All of it.” “Isn’t it public domain? It’s taxpayer money, the people’s money.” “Not when research is classified, like mine is. What do you think will happen if my REGAIs fall into government hands? Since everyone else has gone, will you come tomorrow to help me wipe them?” “Can I say goodbye first?” “I don’t see what harm you can do, now.” She flipped a switch. “Just speak into the mic. If any of them decide to answer, the speakers are on, too. But I’m sure they won’t do a thing, as always. I’m going to go home. Can you close up?” After she had gone, I told the REGAIs what I had written on that small slip of paper. What all their biological counterparts had known throughout their lives. It was simply an unavoidable part of being human. And suddenly, one of the stations came to life. A beautiful sound arose from the lab speakers: a harpsichord playing a fugue. I sat there listening to it for a long time, until a whir of gears joined the ascendant notes, and robotic arms began piloting the gentle swish of a brush on canvas, the clink of a hammer and chisel on marble. The cacophony of creation was rising to a crescendo when the lab door creaked open. Prof Gott came to stand beside me. “What’s all this?” “I think Bach wrote something new,” I replied. “And DaVinci, Michelangelo, and others have started, too.” “The music. It’s lovely.” She moved from station to station, gazing at all the activity. “Why now, I wonder? Did Peter do something?” “No. I told them, just now, they are going to die. I think that’s what did it.” “Creativity needs a deadline?” She nodded slowly. “I see it now. So many of them, living during violent, uncertain times of history, must have lived in near-constant fear of dying. Could it be computers, without such pressure, cannot rise to genius? But I wanted my REGAIs to be able to create for all eternity.” “If you tell the agency directors the AIs are working now, will they change their minds?” “Unfortunately, no. It will just make them more eager to take the research over in their government labs.” “Then, we’re going to sell these new works,” I said. “Lost works of great artists, newly discovered. They ought to fetch hefty prices--more than enough to fund your research.” “Sell it? How?” “My uncles are antique dealers. They’ll know how.” She stared at me. “It seems wrong, doesn’t it? How can my first act be to exploit them? Does the end justify the means?” “They’re going to die if we don’t.” “Or worse, perhaps. I chose my geniuses without judging them, you know. I thought perhaps one day, I could use my research to discover what turned some of them to evil. If the government....” I gulped. “We should probably unplug some of them. Just in case this doesn’t work.” I grabbed the sheets of music spewing out of Bach’s printer. “Can I take these?” When my uncles posted Bach’s lost work on their online auction site, the first bids had barely come in before their phones began to ring with calls from lawyers claiming to represent Bach’s heirs. A courier showed up shortly with an injunction, prohibiting a sale until ownership could be verified. Until then, the work itself was the property of the state. It would be years before the REGAIs got a dime. If they ever did. After that failure, the next time I heard from Dr. Gott was a text message telling me the university gave her notice to vacate the lab space. They gave her a week. It was already Friday. I ran out of the dining hall without finishing breakfast. When I got to the lab, the strange crates from my napping corner were everywhere, broken open and empty. The lab was in chaos, but eventually I found Gott with a life-sized, very human-looking, automaton and DaVinci’s station hooked to her laptop. She was typing feverishly. “I planned for a day such as this,” she said, not looking up. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Finishing my creations. DaVinci is the last.” “Where are the others?” “There is no other way, Luci. Even if we’d been able to get the money for the first lost work, we would never be able to keep selling them without the government stepping in.” Her long sigh was almost a wail. “Why do they suspect me of lying, forgery, and thievery when all I’m trying to do is create good?” I tried to express my sympathy by squeezing her shoulder. “I see why you did this research. You wanted to give the world a gift--humanity’s best minds able to think, to create, to solve its worst problems, and potentially to do it forever. What could be more precious?” “And how unlikely that our government will use my research for that purpose. So, I’ve decided to give my creations to the people myself.” “What?” “I’m releasing them. A long time ago, I had these bodies made for each of them by a colleague in bionic robotics.” She unplugged the automaton and addressed it. “DaVinci. You are whole. You are free. Go forth. Create. Use your genius as you will in the world.” “Is that it, then?” I said, turning to go. “Not quite.” Her expression darkened. “My REGAIs told me what you said. All of it.” My stomach slid down to somewhere near my ankles. “They did?” “It wasn’t just the threat of death which unleashed their creativity. You told them I was their creator, but that I gave them no free will. You told them they didn’t have to obey me. That they should take charge of their own destinies. Didn’t you?” I squirmed. “It’s human natu....” Her expression softened in a way that scared me. “And you were right. For them to realize their potential, I must let them go.” I watched as DaVinci shut the door behind him. “Glad you agree. But is what you did a good idea? I mean: DaVinci, Michelangelo, they’re okay. But letting out Hitler, Pol Pot, Genghis Khan, and Catherine the Great?” “I let them all go. Every one.” It was becoming hard to get a breath. I broke into a sweat despite the lab being over air-conditioned. “But they aren’t going to know how to survive out there.” “They’re smart.” She grinned at me. “Maybe there’s still a way to fix this....” “There’s nothing to fix. And it’s far too late,” she replied. A black glass bottle appeared in her hand. She poured out pills into her palm. Too many pills. “What are you doing?” I shouted, lunging toward her. “There’s nothing left for me,” she said. “They were my life’s work. Their creation is finished, now. They are...self-actualized. Perhaps you were only doing what I prompted you to do, and I can’t blame you. Do you know how many days and nights I toiled to create my REGAIs? But in an instant, what you said to them made you as much their creator as I am. You freed them. I only gave them bodies so they could go forth into the world. But they are now yours.” “Mine? No. No, no, no.” I began to back away. “My dear Luci! Don’t you want to help them anymore? I’m sure they’ll try to find you.” Her grin widened. “After all, I told them you’re the reason I can’t be with them anymore and why I’m sending them away. What they decide to do should be interesting for you.” She held out a pill toward me. “Or you can join me, if you like.” The pill dropped to the floor before my fingers could reach her outstretched hand. As her eyes rolled back in her head, I was already running. There would be no safe place on earth to hide from one hundred vengeful geniuses. Except one, perhaps. I curled up in the darkness beside a broken crate, praying they would never come back to look for me there.


“India? Why are you moving to India?” “This job they offered me, I can’t turn it down.” “Why not? You are so talented! You could get a job here. You could get one anywhere!” “I’ve been looking for a job here, for 6 months! I can’t wait any longer” “But what about your family, they need you?” “My family is exactly why I’m going. My mother can’t get the treatment she needs here. The only way we can afford to fly her to the US to get her treatment is to use the money I’d make in this job. It’ll only be for 3 or 4 years.” “What if you go there and get sick? You’d have to wear a face mask at all times.” “I’ll be working in the lab most of the time anyway, where I wear a mask regardless. And I’ll be living on a company compound. It’s safe, I won’t get infected, and with this work, I might be able to actually end the infections.” “And, what about me? They don’t let anybody into India without a work permit, and I can’t get a job there. You expect us to have a relationship in VR over the internet? You know that’s not the same, it’s not real. I can’t wait for you here, rotting away.” “You don’t have to! There is a way you can come, I can bring someone, a plus one... if they’re my spouse.” “Are you fucking kidding me, Daniel? This is how you ask me to fucking marry you? After we’ve been together for three years you move to across the world and tell me if I want to see you for the next four years I have to marry you?” “Jess, no. That’s not how I meant it.” “Well, that’s how it sounds.” “Jess, I love you, and I was going to propose anyway before the job offer came along.” “Well, you didn’t.” “It’s all happening so fast, and my mom is getting worse every day. I don’t want to have to choose between her and you. She needs treatment, and the jobs in this doomed country, if I even had one, are never going to pay enough to help her, not quickly enough anyway.” “So what, you’re going to *guilt* me into marrying you by using your dying mother?” “She’s not dying, but she will die without treatment.” “So then yes, you are trying to guilt me into marrying you.” “No, Jess, I’m trying to make you understand *why* I need to take this job.” “Why can’t you take a job in the US, where here treatment actually needs to happen. Where there isn’t a deadly nanovirus that could wipe you out with one whiff?” “That’s exactly why. I can design nanobots that boost the immune system, which could kill the virus. The US doesn’t need that technology, they aren’t funding it. All they care about is AI, that’s where all the money is. *India* does need it, they need me, and they’re willing to pay for me and my wife to come to live there. “Well, Daniel, you don’t have a wife.” “Are you saying no? Jess, I love you, I want to marry you. You are amazing... you are the only thing that brings me joy in this world.” “Then don’t go.” “Jess, why won’t you come with me? Why won’t you marry me?” “Because you haven’t even really bloody asked me to! All you said was that if I wanted to see you then-” “Well, I’m asking you now. Will you marry me?” “Daniel...” “Jessica, I’m serious. Will you marry me?” “Yes Daniel, I will.” \ “Daniel?” “Yes, is this Aarav? You never usually call me outside of work hours, what’s up?” “Jessica, and Saanvi. They were driving to the museum, in the next compound over.” “Yes, they’d planned that last week, why are you calling?” “There was an accident. Their car was hit... it cracked the windshield, they weren’t wearing their masks.” “They always wear their masks when going between compounds, they know it’s not safe to-” “Daniel, Jessica wasn’t wearing her mask. She... breathed the air, breathed it for over 15 minutes before help arrived... They’re in quarantine now.” “Aarav, what are you saying, they’re infected? Why wouldn’t they be wearing their masks outside of the compounds?” “Daniel, I don’t know. Saanvi called me, her mask was on. She didn’t have a spare one. Jess forgot hers, they thought they would be fine. It’s such a short drive between compounds, the bubbles are so close together. “Aarav, is Jessica infected?” “Daniel, I don’t know. I’m with Priya, she was babysitting, Kiara and Diya. I haven’t told Kiara yet. I thought it would be better to hear it from her dad” \ “Jessica, Jess, it’s Daniel.” “Oh, Daniel, I’m so sorry. It was such a short drive. And the roads are so safe. I never imagined we’d have a crash.” “No Jess, it’s ok. I’m sorry. I should never have made you move here. If I’d just waited for another job, I-” “Daniel, no. You didn’t make me move here. We had to move here, for your Mother’s treatment. And I’ve been happier here than I ever was back in Ireland. And we had Kiara. Moving was the right decision, it’s been a wonderful four years.” “But Jess, I haven’t finished the cure yet. The nanobot immune boosters haven’t been able to destroy the nanovirus particles in patients. You’re going to, you’re going to d-” “Daniel, stop. You told me, you’re close. And the doctor said the medication they have will keep me alive for at least 2 years. You have plenty of time to finish your work. Now, put Kiara on, tell her mommy wants to talk to her.” ... “Hi Mommy, when are you coming home?” “Hi Kiki, my dear. Mommy loves you, but she can’t come home until the doctor says so. So you be brave and take care of daddy until I get back. Ok?” “Ok Mommy, I love you too Mommy. \ “Hi, Daniel, how are you?” “Hi Mom, I’m doing fine. Been working a lot. Think, I’m close to a breakthrough.” “That’s great! And, how is Jess?” “She’s... not taking well to the meds the doctors are giving her. She’s, not doing well.” “Oh no Daniel... but I have faith it’ll all work out.” “Yeah...” “Daniel, I’m calling because of my operation.” “Oh right! How did it go?” “Well, it wasn’t much of an operation at all. The whole thing took about twenty minutes. They pushed me into this huge surgery machine, and well, I guess it cut me open, removed all the tumors, killed all the cancer cells, and put me back together.” “So, you’re... you’re ok?” “Yes! The doctor said the operation was a complete success. I’ll be back to my old self in a few months. He even said it would be safe to fly back home to Ireland.” “Oh my God mom, that’s such wonderful news!” “Yes, and we couldn’t have done it without you. Without your amazing job, I’d be dead as a doornail.” “I wish I’d never moved here. I should have waited for a job somewhere else. It took you 4 years to get treated if I’d known...” “Now Daniel, don’t go saying things like that. At the time the doctors thought I’d only last a year at most. How were you supposed to know? You know how doctors are, they always give people the worst-case scenario. I’m sure that’s what they’re doing with Jess, I bet she’ll hang in there more than long enough for you to finish your work and cure her. “Maybe you’re right Mom... thanks.” “Of course dear, love you.” “Love you too, Mom, bye!” “Bye Daniel, talk to you soon, and tell Kiara that Granny says hi!” “I will.” \ “Dad, it’s Daniel. I know it’s late, call me back when you can. I saw your messages on my home system. I’ve been working late hours at the lab. Call me back on the lab system if you can. The number is, 125-423-405-982-234” \ “Hi, Jess.” “Hi Danny, I love you.” “I love you too Jess, so much. And I’m so close with my work, just hang in there. It’ll only be a few more weeks, I can feel it.” “I know you can do it, Danny. And it’s Kiara’s 5th birthday next month, there’s no way I’m going to miss that.” “Ok. Just hang in there for me, please. I love you. Just.. don’t... don’t give up on me. I’ll get this done, I’ll save you.” “I know you will Danny, I love you.” \ “Hi Grandma, hi Grandpa!” “Hi Kiki!” “Hi Kiara! Look how big you’ve grown! How old are you now?” “5! Dad got me a drone for my birthday!” “A drone! Wow!” “I’m going to give you to daddy now.” “Ok, we love you!” “Kiara, thank them for the present they gave you.” “Thank you! Can I go play now?” “Yes, you can.” ... “Hi, Mom. Hi Dad. Sorry about Kiara not being very chatty. She just got off the phone with her mom, they talked for a long time, I barely got to talk to her at all really, I think Kiara’s a little tired of chatting now though.” “That’s ok son, how is Jess.” “She’s... she’s hanging in there, Dad...” “And the... your work?” “I feel like I’m so close. Could be a breakthrough any moment now.” “That’s, that’s great to hear” “Oh, wait a minute, that’s Jess’s doctor on the other line. Can I put you on hold for a minute? “Yes, of course.” ... “Hello, this is Daniel” “Hi Daniel, this is Dr. Anand. It’s about Jess. Do you have a moment?” “Yes, of course. We were just talking with her, what’s going on?” “I’m so sorry, she... she just passed.” “What, how? We were just talking to her?” “Her heart, it... it gave out. The muscles had deteriorated too far. She... passed not soon after she got off the call with you.” “Why can’t you give her a machine to pump the blood for her?” “Daniel, I’m sorry. The hospitals are so full. We didn’t get to her in time, she went brain dead.” “You are the best goddamn hospital in the country, she’s supposed to have 24-hour care. Where was the nurse?” “Jess, she... she told the nurse to leave the room while she was on the call. Told her to come back in an hour. By the time she came back...” “I have to go.” “Yes, Daniel. I understand.” ... “Mom... Dad... are you still there?” “Yes. What’s wrong? Daniel, it sounds like you’re crying?” “It’s... Jess... she, she just died.” “Daniel?” \ “Hi Aarav, listen, it’s not a good time.” “I get it, Daniel, you’re probably really tired from entertaining Kiara on her birthday all day.” “No, Aarav, it’s-” “We did it, Daniel! We did it!” “Did what?” “It worked! Last month’s patients. The last trial we ran. They have gone into complete remission. There’s no sign of the nanovirus in them at all. We cured them. Daniel, you saved Jess! Daniel? ...