Note from the author: This story contains a few instances of strong language. *** ‘Bloody hell Flint!’ Luthar exclaimed as he stood up in his stirrups, straining to get a better view of the city up ahead. ‘Threftall, capital of Peccothia and the biggest city in all the three kingdoms.’ Flint replied, chuckling at the wonder plastered across Luthar’s face. The white stone it was built from seemed to give out its own light, a stark contrast against the dull grey cliffs behind. Water plummeted from the high ridge, straight down into the city itself, spray falling on the red tiled roofs at the north side of the city. Mighty pointed towers stretched high above the walls, each bearing the red and gold royal standard of Peccothia. As he stared ahead to the enormous city, he felt suddenly very small and insignificant, the capital city of his home was beautiful, yet slightly overpowering. Luthar slumped back into his saddle and rubbed at Stepper’s neck fondly. She’d felt his excitement and was tensing slightly, Luthar marvelled at how she was so in tune with his emotions. ‘It’s ok girl, nearly there now.’ He soothed her back into her gentle stride. ‘Let’s pick up the pace, we’ve wares to sell and gold waits for no man.’ Old Ben’s voice cracked as sharp as the whip he used to drive his horses. He was a good sort, mostly, except for an obvious impatience when there was money to be earned. ‘We’ll be there before night falls; don’t you fret about that!’ Flint called back to him over his shoulder, before directing an ever so slight shake of his head at Luthar. It was at that moment that Edryg galloped to the front of their small column, blasting Luthar with a frown that could melt steel. Since their latest entanglement with the Cult of Lazmurol at the Compass Crossroads, he’d regained his strength and vitality remarkably well. When pushed for an explanation, he’d dismissed their concerns with a wave of his hand, blaming it on some rare magic the fellow had used without his knowing. ‘Someone’s tracking us. I can’t see them, but I know they’re there. Keep a sharp lookout and don’t stop. I’ll head for that rise and see if I can spy whoever they are.’ ‘Right y’are.’ Replied Flint, barely paying any attention. ‘Connell is bringing up the rear, shout him if you need to, and he’ll do the same.’ ‘Ride safe.’ Flint called to Edryg’s back as he set off towards the crest of the hill at a gallop. He then turned to Luthar with a shake of his head. ‘I reckon that old bastard’s mad you know.’ ‘I wouldn’t tell him that, he’d chuck you in some dungeon and you’d never see the light of day again.’ ‘That’s probably fair.’ Flint replied before facing ahead down the road once more. A little way ahead, a small cluster of houses sat a short way off the road, chimneys smoking against the clear blue sky. One such building caught Luthar’s attention, a great mass of sprawling extensions added haphazardly around one central brick tower. The gentle breeze caused a rusted metal sign to squeak slightly as it swayed back and forth, proclaiming the Merchant’s Rest Inn. Luthar’s mouth watered as he licked his lips in anticipation of good food and even better ale. ‘Don’t think we’re stopping there; I’ve got deliveries to make.’ Old Ben piped up as if he’d read Luthar’s thoughts. ‘We won’t stay long, just a taste of ale and a quick bite. Surely as your loyal guards and escort we’ve earned that much at least?’ Luthar gave him his best winning smile over his shoulder, trying to win the old man round. ‘All right, fine. But you’re buying.’ He replied in that harsh voice he had, clearly trying to disguise that saving a few pennies had been his plan all along. Luthar exchanged grins with Flint again, they’d done very well out of this job and Lord Wedderburn had pressed a reward upon them both for agreeing to travel with Edryg and Connell, so buying Old Ben some food and drink wouldn’t leave them short. Even the weather was holding out as they were on the home stretch. Life was definitely looking up. A bird chirped somewhere off to their left as they approached the great inn, it’s song a welcome addition to the cosy nature of the small village. Curious, thought Luthar, nobody seemed to be outside. Where were the traders and travellers, stableboys and smiths? The hamlet took on an eerie feel as a cloud rolled over the sun and cast it into a dreary gloom. Luthar held up his hand for them all to stop, feeling the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Something was wrong. Something zipped through the air, making Luthar flinch as it passed inches from his face. Not a second after, Lucas yelped as he fell back, tugged hard on the reins of his horse, making him rear and dump him flat on his back. More arrows flew over them as Luthar steered Stepper behind the massive wagon where Old Ben had scrambled for cover, an old mace clutched in his knobbly hand. ‘Looks like you’re really earning my money now lad!’ Old Ben had an excited grin on his face, like he’d been yearning for someone to take a chance on his fine possessions. ‘We could’ve done without this.’ Luthar replied as Flint skidded down behind him. ‘Looks like a good dozen of them, Connell’s seeing if he can get around the other side. Shit!’ He sprinted back out to Ed who had a fistful of Lucas’s jacket and was dragging him towards safety. When they’d dragged Lucas under the wagon and torn off his jacket and shirt, they realised he was bleeding profusely from a wound in his shoulder. The arrow hadn’t stuck, so he’d mend, but he was losing a lot of blood. Old Ben shoved Flint aside and wrapped a strip of linen around him as best he could, the deep red blood seeping into the white like spilled wine. ‘I’ll look after him, you do what you need to do.’ He said with his old hands pressing down to stop the bleeding. Luthar drew his sword and strapped his shield to his left arm, realising this could get messy. To his right, he could see Flint had done the same, stony determination had replaced his usual cheery grin. The sound of clashing steel floated over from the buildings; Connell must have engaged them. The two friends exchanged a brief nod, broke cover and sprinted for the nearest men in the confusion. The first man Luthar reached stared in horror as he bore down on him. On an instinct, he tried to block Luthar’s swing with his bow. The black steel cleaved straight through wood and flesh alike, sending him down onto the dirt. Another managed to draw his sword and take a clumsy swing which glanced harmlessly off Luthar’s pauldron and stuck into a rotten wooden pillar of the stable. Luthar took his chance and ran him straight through, his life bleeding away in seconds. He whirled away and only just stopped himself swinging at the familiar face in front of him. ‘Bloody hell Flint!’ He panted as he lowered his sword. ‘I think that’s them all, a couple ran off over the fields that way.’ Flint pointed a lazy thumb over his shoulder as he spoke. ‘Come on, let’s see how Lucas is doing.’ As they rounded the corner of the old stables, a grim scene emerged. The wagon had been reduced to one wheel, leaning dangerously over to one side. A couple of the brutish guards that Old Ben had employed alongside Luthar and Flint lay still in pools of blood. Old Ben himself swung his battered mace haphazardly as the great beast from nights before in the forest advanced on him, pace by steady pace. Connell ran up beside them, panting from the effort with blood running down the front of his usually immaculate armour. ‘What in the hell is that thing?’ He pointed his sword towards the seed of Lazmurol as if he were not quite sure what he was seeing. ‘That’s the seed of Lazmurol. I suggest we go together.’ Flint replied calmly as if the seed hadn’t beaten seven shades of shit out of him a couple of weeks previous. The three of them set off at a run towards the giant. Luthar thought he looked even bigger in the daylight if that was even possible. He caught a swing on his blade, the shock reverberating up his arms as he strained with everything he had to keep that enormous sword away from his face. Flint drove his blade into the trusty gap under the arm, Connell’s found the join at the neck. A blood curdling wail split Luthar’s skull in two as the beast was wounded. A boot found Luthar’s chest, sending him skidding across the dirt, winded. Steel rang against steel as he struggled to his feet and gasped for air. He could see Old Ben was giving it his best, his mace bouncing off ever more dinted and scraped black armour plates. He couldn’t be shown up by an old merchant, so he set off again to bring the fight to the mountain of a man. Luthar’s first blow was swatted away by a plate covered hand, his second only screeched against the chest plate and bounced off. This wasn’t working, he had to think fast. ‘Get them blades in the gaps again and see if you can hold his arms!’ He commanded the three others, an idea quickly forming in his mind. Connell’s blade slipped into the neck joint again. As a giant hand tried to swat him away, he wrapped his other arm around it, holding it under his own armpit. Flint’s sword dashed of the side of the breastplate as he worked patiently for the opening. It came when Old Ben’s mace smashed into the back of the giant’s helmet, stunning him for a brief second. That awful wail came again as the steel slipped and crunched inside. Flint copied Connell and heaved on the mighty arm to try and stop it moving. ‘Whatever you’re doing, do it quick.’ He managed to call out as he wrestled with the flailing limb. Luthar dropped his shield and drew his shorter blade with his left hand. He worked his fingers on the grip, waiting for his opening. As the three men struggled with the giant, they dragged him back, taking him off balance. Luthar spied his chance and thrust his arming sword point first into the gap at the top of the cuisse. One leg kicked violently out as the giant struggled harder, ever more desperate. The group, ever more off balance, sagged backwards and collapsed onto the dirt in a heaving mass. Flint, Connell and Old Ben struggled on top, trying to keep their foe pinned down. Short sword in hand, Luthar dived onto his chest, teeth gritted so hard his jaw screamed in protest. It was like trying to stay on an unruly horse, the giant thrashed like all hell against the four of them. Luthar fumbled with the helmet, trying to find a join to open the faceguard. He found a slight gap and tore at it with all his might. With a grating and slight bending, it came away revealing a face, surprising in only how normal it looked. He was not a young man, but not terribly old, neither dark nor fair. Long brown hair stuck to the beads of sweat on his skin, a close-cropped beard of the latest fashion covered a strong jawline. Before he began to think of this being as human, Luthar slammed the point of his short sword into his soft, fleshy neck, feeling the point scrape against the inside of the steel helmet. His back arched as his mouth opened wide in a noiseless scream. For a second his body was wound tight, like a longbow string moments before it fires the arrow. After a few seconds he lay still, peaceful almost as if he’d not been trying to kill them moments before. The bird called again, oblivious to what had just come to pass at this tiny settlement. They all slowly eased themselves to their feet, groaning as various aches and pains stabbed them once more. Now the Adrenalin had subsided, Luthar’s chest felt like it had caved from the boot he’d taken. His ribs burned like fire with every breath he drew. ‘Luthar.’ Flint’s voice from behind him. ‘What?’ Luthar turned to see what he wanted. Through the village marched a dozen of the giants, all clad in the same black, spiked armour that the seed of Lazmurol had donned. A procession of very dangerous beasts, the thump thump thump of their boots warned they were ready to do some serious damage. Now only twenty yards away, they drew giant black swords in perfect unison, points bobbing up and down as they advanced. ‘Bloody hell Flint!’ Were the only words Luthar could muster as he squeezed the handle of his sword tight in his right hand. It was the finest forged, deadliest weapon for miles around, yet now it felt little more than a letter opener. He bent his knees slightly, ready to counter whatever came at him first. Better to die fighting than give up with a whimper, no matter how high the odds were stacked against you. That gleaming tip was less than ten yards away when an almighty explosion erupted, sending clods of dirt and grass into the air. The world turned upside down as Luthar realised he was weightless, trees, buildings and roads all spun in and out of his vision as he careered through the air. Instinctively he let go of his sword, if he survived the fall he didn’t want to meet his end stabbed with his own blade. The ground rose up to meet him and smashed the wind out of him, far worse than the seed’s boot had done earlier. Spots of colour popped in his vision as the world seemed to spin even faster. The metallic taste of blood seeped into every corner of his mouth. He coughed and red liquid splashed over his mail and down his chin. He lifted his head to try and right himself, but the rest of his body would no longer obey him. Sagging back down, the corners of his vision went dark. It spread like the curtains closing after the final show was done. They met in the middle and Luthar floated away, no longer feeling pain.


The beasts beyond the veil whickered, moaned and trailed their quarry across the floodplain, eager for the shield to break. Five-year-old Juto clung to Mariah’s hipbone near the edge of the dome, anxious. His eyes flitted from one aberration to the next. They were caked in green twilight. “Mama, what if they –“ “They cannot. Never. They can only try, and fail.” She'd seen her fair share of shield breaks. She knew death. This was a necessary lie. “Not true,” replied an eavesdropping traveler, fast-stepping the moist loam. His name was Lukas. He’d introduced himself to another woman traveling in the caravan earlier. His uncomfortable advances forced his reassignment opposite her in their group. “If our delightful Aurator fails, the curtain falls, and the beasts have their meal.” As if in reply, a bipedal bear-like aberration that bobbled on its haunches like a behemoth toddler distended its jaw and shrieked like a banshee. Mariah felt the cry run down her spine. She forced herself to remain tall. Her son could never see her fear. “But that won’t happen, Mama? Right?” “Right, my dear.” Mariah lifted Juto against herself. “This man is base. He speaks unnecessarily.” Juto looked at the Aurator. She was perhaps twelve, with bouncing locks of golden hair tinged green by the pale aurora above. All Aurators had a color to their protective aura; her veil was the gold of a Kindness Aurator. Tiny, spark-like flecks emanated a lightless dome around her. Beneath the dome, the beasts could not approach. They otherwise walked in twilight; adding torches would attract more. Juto did not know her name; this was not allowed. The four-person guard flanking her wore chainmail. It jingled pleasantly, when you could hear it over the snarling creatures. The night wore on, and grew thin. Soon, a vermilion sun would attract more beasts; the ones who could not see as well in the dim would emerge. The more beasts there were, the more likely an Aurator could lose focus and falter. Mariah knew this. Thanks to Lukas, now Juto knew it, too. A magnetic, aggressive tension grew between Mariah and Lukas. She could hear his footsteps somewhere close behind. She desired to cross the veil with Juto, and take a new place on the opposite side. Alas, they traveled with a full company, and placement was assigned; there was nowhere to go. When Mariah saw her boy squinting east behind them the emerging day, she squeezed his shoulder. “We’re almost to the next town. Can you walk?” "Yes, mama." She set him down. “What is our next Aurator mama?” Juto asked, reaching out and taking her hand. “Greed, little man,” replied Lukas, sniffling and readjusting his rucksack. “Best have a tribute. This one’s a real dragon. You’ll see his wealth-chamber. S’how he keeps his aura so strong. I hear they’re even building out on his perimeter. That’s the power of real faith. ” Mariah remained silent. “Is he right, mama?” “Yes.” She squeezed his shoulder, trying to will her son into silence. “Can’t we stay here? With the Kindness Aurator?” “We’d travel for always if we did. And we’d soon be broke.” “Can’t you be a seamstress for her? And for other travelers?” “My work requires stillness, sweet child.” “And don’t forget,” added an amused Lukas. You could hear the smile in his voice. And he was loud. Too loud. “The Aurators of virtue, like our Kindness here, they keep the beasts back in a small area. The Aurators of sin keep still and settle down. They’re the big veils. S’long as they’re happy. Better life for you, eh, lass?” Mariah’s blood boiled. Juto was a good boy. He didn’t need to hear this. She did not turn back, nor did she acknowledge the man. She wouldn’t. She hoped there would punishment for him in the upcoming Greed veil. “A thing with pretty hair like yours, bet the Aurator of Lust last town had a proper field day with you.” He laughed. It was a cruel, stilted thing. She never had me, Mariah thought. “We didn’t stay – I don’t – I don’t owe you an explanation –“ Mariah’s breath fell from her. I offered her nothing. I told her as such. I worked for her. But she kicked us out anyhow. I thought we'd be safe. Tears fell from Mariah’s cheeks. The Aurator thrived on the happiness of those around her. Safely going from one place to the next was an easy way to bring relief to people, and thus, joy. She – along with most traveling Aurators – did not speak to those she escorted. The woman with the boy was in pain. The Aurator stole a glance. She felt that pain. She absorbed it. Pity is a dangerous thing – it makes the mind drift. So, her aura began to shrink. The assembly included the Aurator, her four guards, and two-dozen persons. All stood within the 20-foot radius of the Aurator’s veil; her golden will-o-wisps. When her energy retracted, the beasts could sense the change and attacked the periphery. A moss-covered tortoise with no eyes charged with frightening speed. It extended its neck an improbable distance and clamped onto a man’s kneecap, crushing it like an apple. He opened his mouth to scream and a scaled ferret with an exposed spine climbed all the way in, bulging his neck and ending him with a shudder before he fell to the earth. A loping vulture with shredded wings leaped onto a pack mule’s neck and bit deep. The bear attacked its rear, peeling its flesh while it wailed. The other stragglers collapsed inward, shoving for the center. Some dropped their belongings. The guards drew their weapons and bellowed orders to keep back from the Aurator. Still, the mare’s tails of light which made the aura continued to retract. The radius was now half its previous size. Another man was shoved – Juto thought he saw Lukas do it – so that his hand flailed beyond the aura. Before he could pull it back, a colossal snake clasped the hand and yanked, tossing him beyond the aura. He was swarmed by all manner of vermin and silenced. “You!” Shouted one of the guards. Juto couldn’t see who. “I’ll put you down myself!” ”No,” spoke the Aurator. Her voice was simultaneously three voices; hers, her power’s, and something else. “He lives. We must all live.” A sense of calm and hush fell over the crowd. The clamor abated. In a slow, steady push, the aura held fast. Beasts close to the gossamer bulwark grew still. The only sound beyond the Aurator’s steady breathing was the guttural, distant argument of two large beasts dueling over a loose limb. Slowly, the aura grew again. The beasts at its perimeter scrabbled back. The guards gently pressed the crowd outward, realigning the caravan around the Aurator. More than one shot a look at Lukas, and even at Juto. Silence was not law when traveling with an Aurator, but conversation was frowned upon. And for good reasons. One of the guards broke formation and stepped over. He was older; a veteran. He wore a beard of some dark shade, with a patch of snow-white down his chin. In the glinting light, he was sweating beneath his helmet, which covered the bridge of his nose. He kneeled down to Juto. “Hello,” he said softly. “I am Camalin. What is your name?” Juto clung to Mariah’s hip-bone. “Juto.” “Well, Juto. I would like to ask of you a favor. Would that be okay?” Juto nodded. Camalin looked up at Mariah, then back down. He had kind eyes. “This is your mother, yes?” Juto nodded. “That makes you her son, yes?” Juto nodded. “You can keep a secret, yes?” Juto nodded. Camalin leaned in and whispered. “I’m somebody’s son, too. We all are sons and daughters. But our Aurator? She is my daughter. She is very sweet. Very kind. Will you show her how kind you can be?” “Yes,” Juto whispered. “Don’t speak again. Not another word. Not until we’re in the next veil.” Camalin leaned back. Before he rose, Juto saw his eyes. They were pitch-black with anger. Juto’s blood ran cold. He swallowed. Camalin blinked and returned to a contented state. He gave a slight and courteous bow to Mariah when he rose again. He then marched over to the man who started it all. He had crossed to the opposite side. Everyone faced forward, forced to stare a pack of wild dogs with bulbous growths on their backs. They rubbed against each other at the edge, whining. Mariah squeezed Juto’s shoulder twice in rapid succession. That meant everything will be all right. Juto chanced a look at Camalin. Lukas seemed deflated by the discussion. Juto wondered if it was a crime to do what he did. Then, Camalin returned to his place at his daughter’s side. The aura looked healthy once again. The Aurator took the first step. Her attending guards followed. So did everyone else. They walked on for an hour. A crescent of amber emerged in the north. Mariah saw it first. It lanced the greenish boil of the landscape. She tapped Juto on his shoulder, and pointed it out. Juto’s eyes widened. This was a beautiful thing he’d been waiting for. It was a Nirvana city; Lukas had been wrong. Juto knew, but wouldn’t dare correct an adult. The best Aurators were not sinful. A Nirvana city was where many powerful, virtuous Aurators lived, overlapping their shields. They built walls, and traveled freely within them. It was expensive to get in, so most people couldn’t. They were so powerful, they glowed. That was the endgame. That’s what it was all for. Juto looked back up at his mother and saw her determined gaze fixed on the city in the distance. It was not to be. Not today. The light of the Nirvana city soon became blotted by the rising sun. The landscape would have been beautiful, if not for the newly-emerging horrors. Their long, twisted shadows were only half as haunting as the creatures themselves. The large growths on the pack of wild dogs were a cascade of warts. Even the tips of their tails weren’t spared. The bear-like horror had stayed behind to feast, along with the snake and the turtle. A large pig with a distended belly dragged itself along the ground; it left a trail of bile in its wake. Innumerable insects and rodents with all manner of pestilence trailed them, too. They crested a small hillock, and their destination appeared below. A half-bowl valley along a weak river was bathed in a sickly, green nimbus. A series of shacks marked its bounds, with a large church at the center of the emanation. Its windows were glazed all colors, brightened by lamps within. Around it, the largest buildings stood, but they, too, left something to be desired. Few beasts walked its perimeter. In the distance, a pink globe moved off toward a forest in the distance, flanked by a few beasts. Mariah spotted wagons among the group: a supplier’s caravan. So, there was some organization here. This would be far from the worst place Mariah and Juto had been forced to call home, even if temporarily. The pink aura was from an Aurator of Chastity. Down the hill they went, ignoring the beasts as well as they could. The Aurator held fast. Soon they were just beyond city limits, where a small contingent of armed and armored men halted them. As the Aurator of Kindness’s golden veil intersected with the viridian haze of Greed, it was absorbed. “We’ll see your papers before you enter Mamner’s domain.” Juto looked up at Mariah, and she shook her head. It was quite uncommon to know the name of the Aurator. It was not an issue worth breaching. They took their place in a steady line. A routine Juto knew well followed: the questions were always the same. What do you do? Were you invited? How long will you be staying? Do you have dependents? What do they do? Always the same. Juto would be sweeping out a chimney by day’s end. They crossed the veil. Juto looked back at Camalin, and his daughter. They were the last to enter, but would be first to the church, escorted by the entire contingent of guards. They would pay tribute to Mamner before everyone else. There was no need to actually keep guards on the perimeter; where would criminals go? The wildlands beyond the veil? “Let’s go find something to eat, my sweet boy.” Mariah breathed a subtle sigh of relief. They’d made it. She was safe. She looked up through their new, green aegis, and smiled. She hoped Juto’s father was up there, smiling back. “Okay, mama.” “I’m sure you have questions.” “No, mama.” Juto’s words stung Mariah. Tonight was his first taste of death. She spent last hour rehearsing answers. Her son was growing quickly. Children had to grow quickly in this rotting world. In a way, that terrified her most of all.


Hello? Is this 911? I’m sorry, I’ve never phoned before as we don’t have phones in Ancient Rome. A friendly time traveler handed me this device right before we imprisoned him for being an evil magician. I had no idea that if you pressed certain numbers you could talk to people. I just spent twenty minutes talking to somebody named Russell from a place called…Louisville? I have no idea who Louis is or why they named a place after him, but Russell is really having a tough time in his marriage. I suggested that he accuse his wife of being a sorceress and then imprison her, but he said that sort of thing is frowned upon in the future times. Russell did tell me about you and how one may reach out when there is an emergency afoot. I did not perceive there being such an event on the horizon, as I am so beloved, but apparently some have only been pretending to love me while secretly resenting all the amazing attributes I feature. I do understand how preposterous what I am saying sounds to you, 911. To think that a god could be resented by mere mortals simply for being a god. It is unfathomable to myself as well. Were it not for me, Rome would not be nearly as lustrous as it is now. I was the one who insisted on cooking all our meats for three seconds longer, which resulted in far fewer people dying of vicious stomach ailments. And that is merely one example of all the gifts I have bestowed upon my great empire. Hmm? Why, no, I did not start out as a god. You see, when someone is born exceptionally handsome and exceptionally intelligent and people are naturally drawn to them and all that they offer, they evolve into a deity presuming they’re also able to conquer most of the civilized world. I am the only person in history that has ever fit that description, and so, I am the only being that has ever transformed into a god. One would think a god would have nothing to fear, but, you see, I am a special kind of god. A kind of--god among gods, so to speak. That means that, sadly, unlike other gods, I could potentially be destroyed by mortal men. Not mortal women, of course, they have no capacity for destruction. The most they can do is beat at your chest with their little hands and then fall to the ground exhausted. Those poor, sad, females. The men, however, have been known to betray even those they once loved the most, and I fear that is what’s happening now. I was just getting ready for work when my wife informed me that she had a terrible dream that I would be slaughtered like a time-traveling magician if I left the house today. Oh, she did beat at my chest with those little hands and then fell to the floor, and I immediately stepped over her, because you cannot indulge such histrionics, but now I am standing at the door, and I fear she may be onto something. You see, 911--a strange name by the way--I have this strange pain in my-- What? A number? 911 is a number? Then why are you not called CMXI? Have people in the future forgotten how to count? How are you meant to assist me if you do not even know how to count? I was saying that I have this strange pain in my chest. A pain I normally only get when someone is attempting to kill me. I felt it quite often as I was waging war and enslaving innocent people everywhere. There was more than one assassination threat over the years, but I haven’t experienced anything like that since returning home safely and announcing my infinite tenure as Supreme Leader. People were so relieved to hear that I would be ruling forever. Any violence that may have been wished upon me was instantly quashed by the love a citizen has for his leader-turned-unstoppable force. Now the pain is back. Is my life in jeopardy? Can you help me, CMXI? If you are in the future, you must be able to investigate the past. Do you know what happened to me? Simply look up “Caesar” in whatever scrolls you have there. It’s spelled C-A-E-S-A-R. Some people spell it C-E-A-S-E-R, and I usually have those people killed. Does it tell you my fate? ……What? Oh that sounds…very unpleasant. And how many did you say--All of them? ALL? Even Bru-- Wow. Wowwwwww. That is--Are you sure, because Bru-- Oh. Oh wow. Like I make a comment about it and everything? And he still goes ahead with-- Wowwwwww. Now I wish I could go back in time and uninvite all of them to my birthday festivities. The audacity of those Senators. To murder their leader right there on the floor! Everyone knows if you’re going to stab someone, you don’t do it on marble. It could stain! Well, the amusement is going to be squarely placed in their laps, because now, for the first time in my life, I shall listen to a woman. I shall stay home today and…do what men do when they do not go to work. I shall eat some sort of soup and watch as two of my servants play a game wherein they try and guess how much soap costs. Thank you greatly for your insight, CMXI. Had I not spoken to you, I would have made a grave error that may have thrown an entire empire into chaos. Nothing good can come out of such bloodshed. That is why I shall refrain from being murdered, and send my guards to the Senate to murder everyone in sight. I won’t bother telling them to only kill the Senators since one or two may be out of uniform. Better to simply kill off the entire block. Maybe two or three blocks. A square mile?

I just think one can never be too safe.


A tall man in a suit walks into a busy building his hair is a mess and his cheeks flushed. As he walks the people around look at him with question like he doesn't belong. He walks very quickly to his destination "Wesley?" the woman at the front desk calls but the man ignores her and continuous walking towards his destination. Finally the man arrives he pushes open a huge wooden door in front of him and walks in to find a group of eight men sitting on a rectangular table. "What is the meaning of this" a man at the end of the table Says. "My my Wesley are you so desperate to join the conversation" one of the men say as  those around him laugh "I will get the last laugh." Wesley says "what?" The man at the end of the table says "I said Gerald, that I will get the last laugh" the man tilts his head in confusion. "It's all wrong." "What are you talkin about" Gerald replies "The train designs they're all wrong" Wesley  throws the papers under his arm on the table. The man at the end of the table walks up and picks one of the papers he looks at them with care and attention "This can't be right, we went over this it can't be right." he said as he looked at the papers "oh yes they're right every last bit of it. 500 people on that train today and they are all going to die all thanks to you. I'll say I'm impressed I'm sure it'll make news like you expected Gerald. But I'm sure you can make it if you hurry now and say..." Wes looks at his watch "20 minutes." Gerald along with the men on the table upon hearing this  get up on their feet and rush out towards the door. Wesley smiles. The men burst out of the building in a bustling street there are people crowded everywhere happy, jubilant and busy Gerald has been running for quite some time his suit is messed up and his cheeks are red. He is covered in sweat everywhere. "Stop!" Gerald said "stop the train." he called out but no one hears him it is a loud City and no one is paying attention to him. In the distance there is a man in a conductors uniform. The  man shouts " last call!"  "No stop the train!" Gerald repeats The Man Standing on the train looks out and Squints his eyes. "Gerald?" He says "Sir we're ready to go" a young man  says to the conductor no no wait a minute the man in the conductor suit walks up to Gerald and waits for him to catch up. " is there a problem."  Out of breath Gerald finally said "you can't... you can't run the train." "Why not it's all fixed up ready to go the people are ready. "  " No, you can't Gerald says as he  pushes past the conductor and walked towards the trains engine. The other men that were sitting around the table finally cought up to the conductor also covered in sweat with their jair in a mess. "What on earth  is going on the conductor asked the calculations... they're all wrong if that thing were to start moving everyone on it would die." A man said out of breath. "How hm did that come to happen?" the conductor said "we're not sure but we're glad we found out." "I'll get the engineer right away" the conductor jogs off into the train with urgency and later on returns with a man covered in soot. Two men stood near the engine and watched the comition unfold. watching as the men gather around in Frenzy one of the two men said should we tell them now?" "No" the other man replied "Wes wants to  make the final bang. the man in soot walks out and smiles at the two men and then quickly hides the smile from Gerald.  The man in soot got  down and started unscrewing some of the gears Wesley finally catched up he looked cleaner  now not flushed hair neat and tidy. "What seems to be be the problem gentlemen?"  The men in suits look at Wesley with a confused expression but then turned their attention back to the engineer. "Gerald do you remember our April first tradition?" Wesley asked again but he got no response. "Well in case you forgot ill have you men know that it is indeed April 1st and I'm sure you know what happens on April 1st." He says with a smile on his face. "April Fool's Day. The man in suit says "winner winner chicken dinner" Weslie says. Gerald turns to look at Wesley "excuse me?" Gerald said "you just got pranked." The man in suit says as he stands up .  "I'll say that's got to be the best one I've done yet." Wesley says. With anger in his eyes Gerald asks "could you be anymore wicked." "This was supposed to be our train Gerald." "you left first or fid you forget. You were going to steal it and keep it all for yourself." "why would I ever want to do something like that.I was a dear friend I would never do such a thing." "And yet here you are." Gerald replied. "Listen here the conductor said I don't care what kind of Child's Play you've had but whatever your problem seems to be you should never under any circumstances include the life-and-death situation of other people in it." The conductor stumped off and  into the train. The fumes from his head almost visible. Gerald in disappointed  walked away with a group of some of the men in suits  while some of them stayed to watch the train. "So the train was never in danger then?" a short man said the rest of the men around and looked at him like he was  an idiot he put his hands up in surrender. "Well I'll say that was a genius  prop could've have fooled me the man said to the engineer as the train roared off in the distance the engineer pooled his eyes away from the moving train and  looked down at his hands to realize he was still holding one of the gear parts the look of shock in his eyes could not be recreated by anyone else he looked at his hands again and then at the train which was now speeding up. "Is it supposed to be going that fast?" a man said. The  color drained out of his face. "stop stop the train."  he said his voice a mere whisper but of course no one on the trains coulf hear him. It was off in the distance now  suddenly they heard a loud crash come from the Train it was going faster now. more and more and more to the point where It got off the rails and crashed into a nearby Forest and then capsided.  The people who were still standing on land rushed towards the train trying to help those who were still inside. "No no!" the engineer said "stop!" but no one could hear him the world around him began to grow slow and slower and the noise from the earth had suddenly just disappeared it was quiet, dead silent and then from depts of the train came the roaring fire which couldn't be heard at first but then it was so loud it was deafening and it consumed everything around it for miles  as it stretched outwards and upwards into a mushroom and that changed the 1st of April as they all knew it.


Examining her pruned fingers, callused tips a form of proof that she exists here, she lets a wave push her back up to shore. It’s a gentle nudge, a friendly reminder that all good things must end and that there’s work to be done. With a quiet reluctance, she does as instructed and stands from her seat on the ocean floor, finding the water only up to her knees after that last wave. She knows she’ll be back this evening, but it’s still hard to leave. She wants to live in the water, be one with that kind, but occasionally temperamental, wave. As she steps onto the warm sand, she finds that her towel is now the host to another lonely visitor: the stray, emaciated dog that’s been following her in and around her home the last few days. He barely registers her form, even as her shadow absorbs the light from around him. “Hey there.” The woman says. “You lost?” His ear, standing upright and pointed, pivots toward the sound as she speaks, but he doesn’t respond in kind. As she stands above him, eyeing his forlorn shape, ribs visible beneath a thin layer of coarse fur, he lets his head fall to his paws. She interprets this as his way of saying, Yes. I am lost. But I don’t think I ever belonged. At least, that’s what the state of his body says; that he never had a proper home or those people to come back to after a long day spent scampering around in the village or neighboring jungle. She knows this feeling well. It’s what brought her here. The woman reaches for her towel and he takes this as his cue that his reprieve, from the hot sand and the scorching sun, is over for now. He stands and looks out to the sea, almost as if he’s debating whether the warm, salted bath water will make him feel better or worse than he does right now. She cocks her head and gives him a tender smile before walking away. Once she’s made it about 50 feet up the familiar path to her home, she looks over her shoulder. He’s still standing, pondering what comes next in the drudgery of his existence. She thinks he’s odd, this short-haired, pointy-eared fellow. He’s likely a mutt, as are most of the strays she encounters here. They’re usually overly friendly, not having learned any boundaries as a pup and for the simple fact that the people in the village will always feed them. Especially the tourists and their excited children who can’t seem to fathom a place where dogs roam freely through the streets, dogs who stop by each hut or bodega as though they’re on some sort of shopping spree, a winter holiday of their own. The woman prefers to keep to herself. She grows her own food so that she only needs to visit the village once a month or so to stock up on essentials, wine, and cerveza. Once a year on her birthday, she’ll splurge on a top shelf tequila anejo. Other than that, she’s a recluse. A nomad. Content to engage with as few of her kind as possible. Like him, she never belonged anywhere but here. Anywhere but nowhere. But she senses a kindred spirit. And against her better judgment and without much thought, she whistles to the dog. This time, he turns in a quick, smooth, almost predatory motion; a wolf listening attentively for the presence of his prey. She almost finds herself regretting it, but then he surprises her with a friendly pant, his tongue falling lopsidedly out of his mouth as if to say, Me? Are you really calling to me? Is this truly happening? She nods to him and gives a quick sideways flick of her head, indicating, Yes, you. Let’s go. He gallops goofily toward her on the well-worn path she’s made with her bare feet in the sand over the years that's she's inhabited this place. His movement surprises her. Is this not the same stoic creature she encountered only moments ago? Does her attention really make that much of a difference to him? He stops at her side and sits by her heels, holding up a paw. She snorts at his greeting, finding herself delightfully amused by this scene - shaking her hand with a local mutt who she’s invited over for a visit, a social call. “You are a strange one, aren’t you?” He smiles. Or at least that’s what it looks like to her, a human being who was raised to understand the body language of her peers. Her human peers. But that feels neither here nor there to her because this dog is definitely smiling. There’s no doubt about it. He lets out a soft, breathy bark, Aruufff. The woman escorts him to her tiny home. It was quite literally sold to her as a “tiny home” ten years ago, before everyone and their brother wanted to hop onto the tiny home, nomadic, off-grid bandwagon. It’s a repurposed school bus that she’s painted a deep, forest green to blend in with the jungle in the distance behind her. She would hate to stand out in some offensive color, bright pink or red. She’d rather go unseen, only the salesman who sold her this small plot of land knowing where she resides. It’s better that way. To be alone. She opens the door, making her way up the steps to grab a banana for breakfast before she starts in on harvesting the vegetables and fruits in her garden behind the bus. She wants to get that over with before the unbearable heat of the midday sun sets in. He doesn’t follow, instead assuming that he must wait outside to be invited in. She’s happy to have such a polite guest. In her previous residence in a city a few hours east of here, people were fascinated by her lodgings, always wanting a tour, always wanting to take pictures at the helm, one hand on the steering wheel and another making some sort of hand gesture, a peace sign, “hang loose”, occasionally a middle finger raised and a tongue out, which she found strange, as if her home evoked some kind of punk rock vibe. It doesn’t. It’s simple, handcrafted, and filled with various flora and fauna so that she never has to leave the jungle. “You can come in.” She tells him over her shoulder as she peels her banana. She makes a tsk tsk sound with her tongue to emphasize her point. “Don’t be a stranger.” He enters slowly, his paws quiet on the tan, wooden floorboards she delicately laid with her own two hands. He scans his surroundings with a keen eye, investigating the area to ensure his safety in this bizarre, long, and narrow home. Once he’s walked the length of the bus and poked his snout inside each flowerpot or basket, he decides that it’s acceptable and sits beside her heels once again as she eats her banana. “Would you like one?” She asks him as she begins to peel another, already knowing that the answer will be a resounding yes based on the lack of meat on his bones. She hands it to him, and he takes it gently, accepting this token of their new friendship. “Those actually grow right out there,” she points to a tree outside the window above her kitchen sink. “They’re plentiful and even though you can’t reach them, I can do that for you.” He gobbles the ripe treat, proceeding to lick the spot on the floor where a bit of banana residue slicks the floorboards. His head tilts back up to her with that enigmatic smile of his. Their day continues like this. The woman, going about her duties. The dog, following tentatively behind, waiting for her permission to engage in whatever activity comes next. Gardening; he waits at the fence before she waves him over to help her inspect the cucumbers and chayote, the mangoes and bananas. Handwashing her clothes; he waits a few feet away from the bucket of warm water until she waves him over to watch as she scrubs along an old washboard, educating him on the best ways to remove stains without harsh chemicals. For those pesky cab sav wine stains, I like to let the stain sit with a bit of salt before soaking in hot water. Taking an afternoon nap; he waits below the bed that’s been built on a raised platform at the end of the bus, until she waves him over to join her, settling at the end of the bed as he’s not quite ready to snuggle with her yet. She’s fine with this; she’s not ready to snuggle either. At dinner, he waits on the bed, watching her cook on the tiny camp stove. He will sniff the air every so often, intrigued by the smell of what she’s concocting. It’s a simple meal of rice and beans, the beans fresh from her garden. “You’re going to love this.” She says to him. “I make mine relatively spicy, so if you’d like, I can leave out the spices in your bowl. I’m guessing you’d prefer it plain?” He smiles big, panting loudly from his perch on the bed. They eat dinner outside, she in her Adirondack chair and he on her beach towel that she’s laid out, thinking that she’ll reserve it for him from now on. Everyone should have something that they can call their own. Something that they can point to and say, “That’s mine. Please don’t touch.” She understands this. It’s the way that she feels about her bus, her garden, her pocket of deserted ocean. Afterwards, she uncorks a bottle of sauvignon blanc, craving something crisp and refreshing on this humid evening. When the wine hits the base of her belly, she sighs with relief. She examines her fingers again. No longer pruned but reddened and bruised from the gradual wear and tear of her lifestyle. She’s proud of these hands. Her new companion has a few marks and scabs on his paws, matching hers. Proof that he exists here in this place. That he’s struggled, toiled, begged, and fought. He’s panting at the sky that’s now colored in vibrant oranges, magentas, and reds. His lungs are expanding and contracting in quick, sharp movements.

Inhale exhale inhale exhale inhale exhale. He looks at the woman, then at the sea, then back at the woman. An invitation. She stands, setting her glass on the armrest of her chair. “Sure, I could go for a quick swim. Did you know it’s actually my favorite way to end the day?” An airy bark. Yes. I saw how disappointed you were this morning when you had to leave. Let’s go then. He saunters off confidently and for the first time in what feels like ages, she follows. As they dip their toes in the gentle, calm sea, her new friend looks up and she finds herself doing the same. They’ve never really been alone, have they? There’s the sun and moon, reliable as ever. There’s the wind on their faces, beckoning them towards different unknowns. There’s the whisper of insects, the call of birds, the crash of waves. But it’s a welcome change to have someone with whom you can experience this feeling of not being alone. To stare up at the universe, together but separate, changed but still the same. At the end of the day, there’s always a sky filled with stars. And tonight, she knows he sees them too.


Ashta is a town like any other: full of wonderful people, clear skies, and surrounded by a lush forest. The neighbors were friendly, the air was clean, and everyone never wanted to leave. What sets Ashta apart from the rest of the world is that the town sits atop a large mountain, making contact with any other village nearly impossible. They would get supplies straight from Ashta, which means everything was grown and handmade. The lush forest that surrounds them lies at the bottom of the steep slope, making the fall down mean inevitable death. For Taylor, the fall sounds more like an adventure, a journey, rather than asking for death. Everyone in Ashta lives and breathes the fresh air of the mountain, seeming content with living above the world forever. But what happens below the trees? Beneath the pine and oak, the green and brown that seems to stretch forever, there has to be more below the town than everyone makes it out to be.

When asked what Taylor wanted for her 17th birthday, she responded immediately, “I want to go down the mountain.”

Her parents reacted like every other member of Ashta; they changed the subject. They’d deny, deflect, and get the topic of conversation away from the fact that their daughter or friend wanted to leave their perfect paradise near the clouds. Little did they know that deflecting would cause them more pain. Taylor, a teen on a mission, would set out every night to the edge of Ashta. She had been walking the outer edge and looking out to the trees. At night, below the mountain, it was pitch black. When the wind began to pick up, it would blow the leaves enough for the sound to carry to the town, but nothing could be seen moving over the edge.

It had taken Taylor a while to complete the circle around the edge. After two weeks of leaving her bed and coming back before her parents noticed she was gone, the journey had been complete. The hand-drawn map that lay beneath her bed whispered to her as the day went on. Today was the day she would descend the mountain. It would be idiotic of her to try and go down at night. As said before, the forest could not be seen when the sun went down. The location with the most clearing had been marked, and Taylor would be going during the day to see if her eyes had been correct in choosing the marked path. She quickly slipped out of the house; her parents watching television together was an easy distraction. Hopping onto her bike, she began the journey to the location on the map. Her travels took less time than in the dark. It was like the sun was encouraging her to follow her plan. She would nod to the neighbors and say ‘hello’ to the students in her class but never stopped to chat. If she did, she might consider going back home and never touching the trees beneath the city. She couldn’t back down, not after all of this time and energy she had spent on it.

Taylor arrived within 20 minutes. The path was the clearest out of the rest of the edge, just like she had thought. It had a few large rocks, but it went the furthest down without being swallowed by the trees. She took a moment—not too long to think about what she was about to do—to look back at her hometown. The place she grew up, the place she loved, from the bottom of her heart. But her heart also called to the forest beneath her.

Before she began to think of the memories she had in Ashta, before she began to regret her decision and turn back, Taylor took a deep breath and pushed off on her bike down and over the edge of the town. The point of continuing on her bike was to help her explore once she made it down. Little did she know that the journey down would be much more difficult to navigate and control on a two-wheeled object. The initial drop over the lip of the edge made Taylor’s heart fly out of her chest. It wasn’t a gradual slope but an almost horizontal line for a while before moving to a steep one. Taylor had assumed the horizontal slope wouldn’t last as long as it did. It felt like she was free falling off her town rather than riding her bike down. In a flash, Taylor began thinking of her friends, neighbors, and poor parents. What had she done? Did she think of a way to get back up? Will she make it down to the forest conscious? Her tires hit the steep slope hard before she could think of anything else—hard enough to bend the front tire and cause her to let go of the object as she flew over the handlebars. She managed to twist her body enough for her shoulder to take the impact rather than her head. The hard smack was followed by a loud ‘pop’ and a seething pain in her shoulder. As she landed, her body bounced like a rubber ball. She continued bouncing down the slope, smacking against the earth with enough force to knock the rocks she hit off of their tucked-away home in the dirt.

The air continuously knocked out of her, forcing her to keep silent during her fall. Did anyone notice her going off the edge? Would anyone be able to help her? Her shoulder was in so much agony. That pain was nothing compared to landing on a sharp rock. Almost all of the force of the land went straight to her right leg, a loud snap accompanying it. Taylor still couldn’t scream, her lungs filling with dirt and dust. She couldn’t breathe; the natural coughing fit was not helping her panicking brain. The world spun, making it hard to tell how far she had fallen. Taylor opened her eyes, which had closed a long time ago, only to watch her bike approaching her. It wasn’t a moment longer that the handlebars collided with her forehead, knocking her unconscious. Her body continued flinging and falling, her bike rolling with her and tangling her limbs between the metal. It was hard to tell what was girl and what was bike.

Upon finding one of the many trees beneath the mountain, Taylor’s body wrapped around the trunk, her bike hanging around her to pin her to the forest floor. Before sighing for one last time, Taylor could feel the tree bark digging into her skin. At least she was able to touch the forest like she always wanted.


Jake turned away from his mother’s current one-sided shouting match with the driver in front of them. He looked out the window as the phone towers ran past them. ‘Probably to get away from her screaming. Would that I could be so lucky. Too bad they are all chained together or they could escape more easily’ “-maybe you should pray to God for some driving lessons! It’s a miracle that you managed to find the keyhole you moron!” Jake turned to look at his mother’s face. Her lips were compressed in anger. He decided to speak. “Maybe they are having an emergency. Like having to rush to the hospital.” She kept her eyes straight ahead. Her tone was as gritty as the road, “Then why wouldn’t they call an ambulance?” Jake replied tentatively, “Would you be able to afford an ambulance?” She was silent now. He couldn’t tell if it was out of anger or if she was thinking what he said through. He hoped that she was experiencing a rare moment of self-reflection. Her thumbs flexed as she still gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly. The passing fields made a less stressful preoccupation than that, so he turned away again. ‘See, this is why I don’t want to drive. It makes them both so angry.’ He couldn’t bear the starchy silence any longer, “How much longer do you think it will be?”. She flicked her head to his side of the car, “Check the map.” Jake reached by his feet to grab the atlas that was trapped by crossword books and snacks. He leafed through the spiral bound tomb until he came to the familiar highlighted pages. He traced his finger from their last stopping point a little way and held it there as he looked up for a sign to tell him where in this hell-hole they were. There was nothing but fields, telephone towers, and endless road in sight. Jake looked back down. His finger moved across the map but the path wasn’t making any sense. Until he saw that he had made the grave error of a misdirected turn. He felt a surge of adrenaline bore up his spine and spider-web through his head as his eyes grew wide with a sharp sense of terror. ‘Oh, she’s not going to be happy about this.’ He didn’t want to ask, he hoped that he was wrong about being wrong. He dared to risk the question, “Do you know where we are? Which road we are on?” She was annoyed as she said, “35 North. Still.” He froze, and kept quiet as he tried to calm down. Deep, silent breaths. He gave her the right directions. They were still on course. The shards of anxiety slowly melted from his mind. He kept his eyes glued to his finger tip, unseeing, as he heard his mom’s voice. “So? Are we on track?” “Yep.” Jake put the map back in its resting place and decided against asking the time related question again. If the question caused confusion or started a fight, he’s not sure he could handle it after that scare. ‘It won’t be long now. Just have to make it until tomorrow morning at the latest.’ ‘I might as well take a nap; it will help pass the time.’ He brought his knees up to his seat-belted torso and rested his head on the window. He hated how it made his teeth chatter as he closed his eyes and tried to de-stress. The hum of the road was annoying but the seat vibrations were soothing. Time was passing with human silence until his mother pressed a radio console button to continue the cd story that was stopped during the previous driver confrontation. Something about a woman named Charity and a man named Selfish. Jake had heard it many times before on these trips. It was easy to fall asleep to. It was finally peaceful. He could relax. In his dream he opened his eyes and looked into the distance of the fields. There was a large older man there. Bigger than any skyscraper. Jake’s dream knowledge knew that it was God. It’s eyes scrutinized Jake. It reached behind itself and pulled out a rifle and aimed it at the car. Jake thought he could feel his heart beating faster. He felt panic as God raised the rifle to its eye and pulled the trigger. A teeny figure came from the far-off barrel. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it grew closer and became larger until it was half the size of God and was running right for him. It was Jake’s mother. And the imitation was approaching fast. It ran as though the car were a forest boar and hadn’t eaten in days. Its brows were furrowed, its face twisted. It screeched as it chased the car. It stumbled as it rounded the back of the vehicle. Jake turned to warn his driving mother but when he turned his head his face was next to the driver’s side window and watched the monster clamoring and clawing its way to where he sat. He looked down at his hands which were on the wheel. He tried to steer but the car would not let him. It was out of control. He turned his head to see the beast chasing him up the length of the swerving car until it was running right next to him and looking directly at him, so focused and intense. She looked manic. Jakes hands were glued to the steering wheel. He couldn’t move as she punched through the glass and latched on to his wrist. As they wrestled for control, the car became even more out of control, jerking across the road. Jake felt terrified and weak up against this rampaging visage on its warpath. The car was tipping over more with each jerk until it was falling over. They were crashing. He turned from her onslaught to focus on the road. God was Standing there, as big as before. As they thrashed towards it, it transformed from a much older man into a huge Jake. Time slowed down as the giant spoke: “See, my servant will act wisely; he will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted.” Jake’s adrenaline was flooding his body as the car crashed into the road and rolled. He couldn’t scream. His eyes opened. He was in his usual spot of the passenger seat. His mother was still driving. The familiar story form the CD continued on. He knew that his mom saw him look at her. But did not acknowledge it. Did she see him look at her? He didn’t care. He was just glad that he did not mumble or scream, which would cause questions. He could pretend that it never happened. He could pretend that everything was normal. “-kings will shut their mouths beca- beca- beca-.” Oh no. Here it comes. The radio has skipped before. The mother spoke, “work in Jesus’ name.” The radio replied,”beca- se- se- se-.” Her voice grew loud again “I command you to work! I plead the blood of Jesus on this radio. Talk to it Jake, tell it to work. Command it.” Jake put his hand on the radio, like he was taught to and echoed the same words his mother shouted. He tenses as he hears his mother. “You will respect me, as a child of God I command you!” The radio was too afraid to defy his mother for long. Jake wondered if it only started working again to get her to stop screaming at it. Jake leaned his head against the window. There was peace once more. For now, at least.


Jessie walked into the restaurant, anxious but excited to meet her blind date. Her friend, Peggy, had set it up. Telling her that the man was handsome and charming who had a good job and had been single so quiet a bit of time. Looking at her text messages she went back to check the information, “He’s wearing a dark blue shirt, hmm... okay.”

Checking out the fancy restaurant, she made her way to the cocktail bar, sitting at one of the high tables. She felt slightly overdressed with her form fitting pale blue dress — at least she thought ahead and wore smaller heels than she originally planned. She waited a couple more minutes, looking around to see if she could find her mystery date.

“Ma’am, this came from the gentleman over there.” The bartender interrupted, sliding a red dirty martini her way as he pointed to the man in question. Jessie was pleasantly surprised, “Oh... thank you.” she turned and smiled at the man, who waved and was wearing a dark blue shirt.

He made his way over and took a seat next to her, “Hi, I’m Mark.”

“Jessie. It’s nice to meet you.” She could see why Peggy told her he was handsome and charming, his smile alone was dashin, and his blue eyes were sparkling. The next few minutes they spent introducing one another and lightly flirting. Jessie was having much more fun than she had expected to have with a blind date. Mark ordered them an appetizer from the menu which they shared as they continued talking.

“So here’s a weird question,” Jessie started, her tone teasing. “What’s your best pick up line?” Mark thought for a moment, “Your hand sure looks heavy, do you mind if I hold it for you?”

He said as he picked up Jessie’s hand.

She laughed loudly at the cheesiness of such a line. “Very nice, very nice.”

Mark smiled, “Thank you, it’s not too shabby.”

“Oh it’s terrible, but yes, not too shabby.” Jessie joked.

“Well, let’s see you do better,” Mark challenged with a smirk as he took a sip of his drink.

Jessie tapped her chin, before shyly putting her brown hair behind one ear. “You’re so handsome that you made me forget my pick up line.”

Mark hung his head as he chuckled. “That is much better than mine.”

Jessie grinned. She and Mark continued their delightful date until Mark’s watch beeped.

“Ah, dang, my shift’s. I’m sorry.” Mark explained. “I would love to call you.”

Jessie wrote her number on a cocktail napkin and signed her name with it. “Here’s my number. Oh and I expect a call.” She raised an eyebrow and smiled.

Mark kissed the back of her hand. “Yes ma’am.” He said his goodbyes and left.

Jessie stayed, getting another drink as she thought about the best two hours she had in weeks.

“Excuse me, is your name Jessie?” A man's voice asked.

Jessie turned and saw a man with thick black glasses and curly auburn hair —

plus a dark blue shirt. “Yes?”

“I’m Ian, Peggy set us up.” Ian said, giving a small shy grin.

Jessie’s eyes widened. “Oh…”

“Sorry I’m late, I got stuck in traffic.” He explained.

Jessie’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at her phone. If Ian was telling the truth, he was an hour and a half late for their date. She tried to put on a smile and waved her hand to the seat next to her. “Are you hungry?”

Ian took a seat and picked up the menu, “I’m vegan actually, so I’ll see what they have.”

“Oh…” Jessie said somewhat stupidly.

Ian gave her a delighted smile, Jessie was beautiful. Peggy was right, she seemed fun and carefree. “So, what do you do for a living?” He asked, his questions straightforward and a little rusty from disuse. Jessie laughed a little sarcastically, having explained all of this to Mark, who was apparently not her blind date. She repeated a lot of what she told Mark telling it now to Ian who showed little interest in what she did for work —

Jessie worked proudly as a phlebotomist at the local ER. Ian explained about his job and life as he ordered something to eat, not leaving any room for Jessie to ask questions or interrupt. It left Jessie feeling very much like there was going to be a test at the end of the night with a questionnaire included.

Ian smiled as he took a drink of his club soda, continuing his talk about why his last girlfriend had left. He thought Jessie seemed very entertained.

Jessie tapped her fingers on the table, her chin in her hand as she listened to Ian continue his monologue about his last relationship. She could see why the last poor girl had left. Time wasn’t moving nearly fast enough. At the end of the night Ian walked Jessie out of the restaurant, almost letting the door close on her as she exited.

“Sorry about that.” Ian apologize. He held his hand out to shake. “It was so nice to meet you.”

Jessie had been irked for the last hour and a half of her night, with a tight lipped smile she took his hand and shook it firmly. “Oh please, the pleasure was all mine.” She said, a little miffed. She was tired, irritated, and most of all her feet hurt even in her low heels.

Ian handed her his phone number. “Here’s my cell.” He said, putting it into her hand.

Jessie opened her mouth to protest but by then the valet had brought Ian’s car around and he left without so much as a goodbye. Jessie rolled her eyes as she turned and threw his number into the trash, pulling up Mark’s contact information she sent him a text that she was free next Wednesday. He replied quickly and they set a date for the movies. There was no way Ian was getting a second date — that she was sure of.

Ian drove home, calling Peggy to give her an update. “Hey! I think it went really well, Pegs. I’m looking forward to the next date.”

Jessie called Peggy as she waited for a taxi, “Yeah, sorry Peggy, but Ian’s not the one for me.”

Peggy laughed at the contradicting reactions to the blind dates. “That’s not what he said.”

“Oh...I’m sure he didn’t.” Jessie said sarcastically.


We're almost there. We're really almost there. Purple-fuchsia-brown has told us it's time to decelerate the ship and observe our landing spot from orbit. I know there is still much to do before we land, and it will be even longer before we leave the landing spot and make the journey to Earth. But I'm still excited. We are still closer to Earth than any of us have been for 65 million years. *** "Test complete. All systems working." I let out my breath and straighten up. My back is tired from hours spent hunched over the valves, making sure nothing is amiss. But now, we've done it. We've really done it. I look out over the starship and beyond, to the blue sphere of Neptune just above the horizon. It's a familiar sight by now, but it still can be breathtaking. And soon, I'll leave it behind. I'd expected to be ecstatic when the ship was complete, but now my excitement is tinged with more than a little regret. I've already left one planet behind. I'm not sure how I feel about leaving another. *** "Everyone!" Purple-fuchsia-brown lets out a cry. We all turn to look. "There are beings on the landing spot!" "Beings?" Green-yellow-red asks, hurrying over to look at the computer display in front of Purple-fuchsia-brown. "Yes. What will we do?" "If we stay in the alternate dimension, they can't detect us. We will observe them, and then decide." *** Inside the dormitory, the celebration is in full swing. It seems like everyone in Port Triton is crowded into the main hall. People are laughing, crying, and talking everywhere. A few people are making good use of the low gravity and doing arial shows of excitement. I feel my celebratory mood start to rise. I am happy the ship is done, really. This is what I came here for, after all. And once we leave the force field, we can talk to our families. It's high time. I'm just beginning to join in the fun with a few grandiose backflips when Dr. H.C. comes rushing in to the room. Dr. Henson-Campos is the one who discovered the Henson-Campos field that Port Triton is surrounded by, that allows us access into the alternate dimension. Without her, Port Triton wouldn't be here. She's out of breath as if she's been running. I'm instantly curious. "An alien spaceship just landed a few kilometers from base!" *** After we land it does not take long for the beings to appear. There are five of them, riding in a sort of car. I think they are very funny looking creatures. Then I realize they are certainly wearing suits to protect them from the extreme cold. But for all I know they might also look funny under the suits as well. Green-yellow-blue sends them the message. We hope our computer translated it correctly. It is quite good at learning languages, but still imperfect. We watch the beings closely, but we cannot tell how they react. Even if they weren't wearing suits, we would not know their body language. I hope they react well. And not only because that is best for our safety. I have barely even seen them, and already I want to be friends. *** Our captain and a few others head for the ship in one of the rovers. In the main hall, the excitement of finishing the ship is quickly replaced by anxious waiting for some word back. Some people are afraid. Some are excited. For some, the reality of the situation seems not to have quite sunk in. I'm not sure which of these I count as. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Dr. H.C. opens the door. She has a funny look on her face. "They aren't aliens. They're dinosaurs." *** We have told them, the humans, why we are here. That Earth, their planet, was once ours too. That none of us have been back since the asteroid killed all of us except those who had left the planet. That we come back now only to see what has become of it, and if we can learn anything about our ancestors who lived here. That we will not hurt them or interfere with their lives, and want to learn from them what Earth is like now. They said they must think about it, and be careful. I would like to talk to them now, of course, but I understand. We are a surprise. *** I had hoped we would get more news of the astrosaurs, as people are calling them, but after the initial report, things are mostly quiet. A committee of Port Triton's leaders hold meetings to discuss the best course of action, but for the rest of us, business continues as usual. I try to focus on preparing for departure, but it's hard. I don't want to leave without at least seeing them. But eventually, the captain makes an announcement. The committee is convinced enough of the astrosaurs innocuous intentions to let them visit the base. On the day of the visit, most of us wait outside for the astrosaurs arrival. Some people are still suspicious of them, but not enough to deny their curiosity. They first appear as dots on the horizon. As they get closer, it becomes evident they are in small carts of some sort, made of cabs shaped like the bottom half of a cone sitting atop three odd spherical wheels. They don't get out of their carts when they arrive. The carts are not only their transportation, we learn, but also their spacesuits. I feel oddly shy as they travel around our camp, talking to people through their translators. *** I can hardly believe we are really here, in the humans' camp. I am full of curiosity. I see one human standing alone. If I understand correctly which way their suits face, it is watching Purple-fuchsia-brown and the others intently. I'm intrigued. I move closer. *** "Hey." The sudden voice in my short-range channel startles me. I jump a few yards in the air and turn around. Up close, the suited astrosaur is quite noticeably bigger than me. "Hey," I say back shakily, terrified in spite of myself. "You are a mechanic for your ship, correct?" "Yes. How did you know?" I'm just a little freaked out. "Your suit says so. My translating device told me." "Oh." Duh. "I'm a mechanic too." "Really?" I'm not faking my curiosity. Somehow, I hadn't thought of them having different jobs on their ship, but of course they did. "Yes." I'm not sure what to say, but I don't want to lose my chance to have a conversation. "How... how long are you here on Triton?" "As long as you are. We wish to learn from you as long as possible before you leave." "Oh. I see." I have a million questions, but somehow I can't think of anything to say. "May I ask you something?" "Of course." "Why are you leaving?" The question catches me off guard, before I realize it probably isn't for me personally. "We want to see what's out there. Because we're curious. But also to see if we can find another habitable planet, in case we can no longer live on ours." "Like if there's another asteroid?" Right. This really happened to them. "Yes, maybe. But also if we destroy it." "Why would you destroy it?" I don't know how to answer. "How?" That one is easier. "By overheating it. We're releasing gasses into the air that trap the heat in, and make the weather unpredictable. It won't destroy the planet itself, I guess, but it'll make it hard for us to live there." "But if you know that, why don't you stop?" I sigh. "Because we're stupid. And bad at planning for the future. And agreeing on stuff." "Oh." The astrosaur doesn't seem to know what to say. I don't blame it. I change the subject. "What's your name?" "Blue-orange-teal." "Like the colors? "Yes. We talk in colors. But since you don't, you can call me an abbreviation: BOT. But now I see that spells a name for robot. So perhaps that will be too confusing." I smile. "It wouldn't be confusing. Plenty of humans have names that sound like words." "Alright. What is your name?" "Lira." "I see. That doesn't mean anything to my translator." "Oh. I guess it wouldn't." "We have turned my colors into letters. Could we turn your letters into colors?" " "You mean, make a set of colors that my name is an acronym for?" "Yes." "Alright. How about lavender, indigo, red..." I have to think for a moment. "Aubergine." "You will have to describe your last word to me. The translator doesn't know it." "Kind of a dark purple, a little bit grayish maybe?" "Like this?" Bot changes a light on the side of their cart. "Yes," I say. "That's it." "I like talking to you, Lira. Could we be friends?" I'm surprised by how taken aback and happy I am. "Yes. I'd like that." *** Humans do look funny, even without their spacesuits. But I imagine we may look funny to them as well. We have visited them several times outside. But now, we are inside their dormitory for the first time. I am glad they trust us enough to allow us in. It is loud in here. I was not prepared, even though I knew that the human language was auditory. The humans seem more numerous in here then they did outside. I still like them, but they are overwhelming. I hope Lira can find me. I can't find her. *** The astrosaurs look like giant, iridescent golden chickens. That is, if chickens had heads like turtles, color-changing crowns somewhat reminiscent of peacocks', and odd, vaguely fernlike appendages on their sides. I can't decide if they're gorgeous or hilarious. I look around for Bot. The front three stalks on one astrosaur's crown are blue, orange, and turquoise. I hurry over. "Bot!" "Lira! I'm glad to see you!" The stalks on Bot's crown flicker different colors as the words come through my translator. "I'm glad to see you too!" "Your dormitory is loud." I laugh. "Yes. Not always quite this loud, though. Everyone's exited you're here." "I'm exited we're here too!" I smile. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?" "Yes. That would be nice." I take Bot back to my room. They have to bend over to fit through the door. "What are these?" Bot gestures to the wall where I keep my photos. "My family and friends back on Earth. And that one is the Earth itself, taken from space." "It's beautiful." Bot turns to me. "Do you miss Earth? And your friends and family?" "Sometimes..." I say. "I mean, yes. I haven't talked to my family in years now, of course I miss them. But..." I hesitate. I haven't said this to anyone, but somehow I trust Bot. "I sometimes feel like I don't miss it as much as I should. And if I'm being honest, I feel almost as bad leaving Triton as I did Earth." "You do?" "Yes. I don't know why. I lived on Earth for thirty years; I've only lived here for two. On Earth I had my whole family to leave behind; here, no one is staying. It's barren and cold, and no one can live here. And yet..." I am fighting back tears. "I love it anyway, Bot. I love Triton. And no one else seems to care about remembering it. I mean, there'll be a perfunctory ceremony on something, I don't know. But... We don't talk about the fact that it's a whole other world we're leaving behind. And once we leave, we can be in communication with Earth. We'll see pictures and videos. But we may never see or hear anything of Triton again." Bot is silent for a moment. Then they speak. "Is my understanding correct that this would be a good time for a hug?" Surprised, I nod, forgetting about the translator. Then I remember. "Yes." Bot envelopes me in a feathery appendage. I can no longer hold back the tears. After a few minutes, I wipe my tears and straighten up. "I'm sorry, Bot. I must be confusing you. I don't know if you even understand these human emotions." "I think I understand some of them. I like this place too." I smile, but I'm also about to cry again. "I'm going to miss you too, Bot. So I will be leaving someone behind." I wipe my eyes and smile. "Your arm is soft. Is it an arm?" "Yes. But our historic scientists think they were wings on our ancestors." "Really?" "Yes. On Earth, we could fly. When we left Earth and went to other planets, the different gravity and atmosphere made it so that we could not, and we gradually lost the ability." Bot extended an appendage and looked at it. " I have always wished it had not been lost. I would like to fly." "Many humans feel the same way, and we never did have wings." *** I see Lavender-Indigo-Red-Aubergine many times as time goes along. S he tells me more about Earth, good things and bad. Some of the bad things are very bad indeed. But if the good things are true, and Lira is anything like the rest of the humans, I think I will like Earth anyway. *** It's time. The starship is up and running. Our things have been packed. The bustle of final preparations is all around. We are five hours from departure. Every step I take feels weighted with the knowledge, yet I keep on with the preparations. Not, however, without glancing frequently at the horizon. At last, some familiar odd carts appear on it. Bot and I walk a bit away from the base, neither of us talking much. I wonder if the same feelings make us both silent. At last, Bot breaks the quiet. "I have something for you." Bot extends their cart's arm. In it is something small and square. "A selfie. I hope I did it right." I look closer. It is an image of Bot and I, both in our spacesuits, standing on Triton's surface with Neptune in the background. I smile, and feel a lump forming in my throat. "Bot, it's a wonderful selfie. When did you take this?" " When we were last walking here. I don't think you noticed." "I didn't. Bot, it's gorgeous! Thank you!" "It's not the same material as your other pictures. Will that be a problem?" "Not at all. I love it just the way it is!" I look at the picture again. "I wish I had something to give you, too! I didn't think to bring a present." "I don't need a present. I just gave this to you to remember Triton by, and me. I have my own copy." Bot holds out another image. " But I would like it if you would autograph it for me." "Autograph? You make me sound famous." "Perhaps the translator chose an odd word. Would you write your name on it for me?" "Of course. But I don't have a pen." "I do. But it's not like the ones you're used to." "That's alright. Let me give it a try." Bot produces a pointed metal cylinder wrapped in a colorful band. "You use these knobs to adjust the color and brightness." After a bit of fiddling, I figure it out. Carefully, I write a lavender L, an indigo I, a red R, and an aubergine A on the back on Bot's picture. We turn and walk back toward the base. "Take care out there," I say. "Say hi to the rest of humanity for me." "I will. You be careful too, Lira." We stop a few meters from the starship. All around us, the bustle of preparation is in full swing. I look at Bot. "I guess it's time for me to go." "Yes. I must go as well." I can feel the lump in my throat get bigger. "I'll miss you, Bot. Thank you... thank you for being my friend." "I will miss you too, Lira. I hope we will talk over the communication channels sometimes." "I hope so too." "Goodbye, Lira." "Goodbye, Bot." I watch as Bot rolls away toward the horizon, where the sun has just begun to rise in the sky. Then I turn around and head for the universe beyond.


The hostess led us to a window table.  It was the same table we had shared fifty years ago.  We both were actually surprised the place was still around. "I remember our last dinner here like it was only yesterday." "Me too.  Those were some great times.  Can't wait to hear what's been happening with you." "And you're gonna have to tell me about your last fifty years." "May I start you two off with some drinks?  We have Pepsi products or something from the bar." "I'll have a Pepsi Mango if you have it." "Sure do.  And you sir?" "I'll have a Molson." "I'm sorry.  We don't have Molson." "Okay how about a Fosters." "Sorry." "All right.  Just give me a Budwiser in a bottle then," "That I can do.  I'll be right back." "So Mister P.K. Butler.  Where have you been keeping yourself these past fifty years?" "If you recall I had a pretty high draft number.  So, rather then be drafted and end up in Nam, I Joined.  Joined with England, Germany and Hawaii as my assignment preferences." "Here are your drinks, gentlemen.  You ready to order yet?" "I think so.  How aboout you, George?" "I'm ready too.  I'll have the t-bone, medium, baked potato with extra butter and bacon bits, house salad with honey mustard dressing, green beans as my other side and if I have any room left a slice of that peanut butter pie." "And I'll have the chopped steak, mashed potatoes with gravy and onions, house salad with ranch dressing and a slice of blueberry pie." "Thank you, gents.  I'll put your order in right away." "Remember what we had fifty years ago?  We were actually here for lunch.  I had that jumbo burger with all the fixings, fries and my first beer as I was finally old enough to order one." "Yep, I had that footlong cony dog with chili and cole slaw, onion rings and iced tea.  I had another two months before I could order a beer." "Oh to be that age again.  Kids these days cannot wait to grow up.  If they only knew what was waiting for them." "You got that right.  So, Georgie, I know you hated when people called you that.  What have you been up to over the years?" "You no doubt remember that back in high school they told me I was not smart enough to go to college and they had me take DE, that work class.  Well I saved my money and used it for college.  I went to NC State in Raleigh.  Was there when their basketball team was 27 and 0 with no place to go because they were on probation.  Then the next year they won the championship." "Wow!  I remember that.  I was actually at Fort Bragg that championship season.  I went to Germany shortly after.  What was your major?" "Communications.  Was a radio DJ for several years after graduation.  Used that to get into sports broadcasting.  Was the voice of our minor league baseball team until I retired two years ago.  No wife, no kids.  Was married to baseball." "Well I met this gal in Germany.  She was actually an officer and had me outranked but we hit it off from the day we met.  Within a year we were married.  Her name is Amy and before we were transferred out of Germany we had twins, Tommy and Teddy.  Then in Hawaii Cindy was born." "Three kids.  Kind of envy you in that department.  Always wanted kids but..." "Here you are, gentlemen," and the waitress placed their orders before them.  "Anything else I can get for you?" "What kind of steak sauce do you have?" "A1." "I'll just go aunatural.  Thanks anyway." The chatter between them became minimal as they ate their meal. "Any idea who may or may not attend this 50th reunion tomorrow?" "I know Darnell Sloan won't be there.  He got drafted, was sent straight to Nam after basic and was killed within a month.  And you remember how Patsy Graves and Barry DeLane were always all over each other.  They got married, had five kids and while on vacation one year, on their way home, got hit head on by a drunk driver.  All were killed instantly." "I remember hearing about that.  It made the national news." "Yea, very unfortunate.  Of course our class president Henry Benson will be there.  And one of the bands got back together just to play this event from what I hear.  Remember  Haywire-played country on Friday and rock and roll on Saturday." "Oh I remember.  Thought that was quite unique." "Lane Johnson won't be here.  He joined the Navy and is in Japan.  Don't think it would pay for him to fly back here just for one night.  And the hot cheerleader, Candy Barr, four years after graduation was diagnosed with cervical cancer and passed away within a year." "Damn!  I remember all the guys wanted to date her.  Any of the faculty gonna be able to make it?" "Principle Watley died just last year.  And we thought he was old as the hills back then.  Heard that vice-principle DeMarco might be able to be here.  As for the teachers, Doctor Cordle, that lone state championship baseball coach confirmed that he would be here.  I don't recall seeing any of the others confirming." "Probably not many still around." "You most likely are correct.  Oh, remember John Ferris, voted most likely to succeed in anything.  He died of prostate cancer almost ten years ago." As they both seemed to be finished with their meal the waitress brought the pie. "Either of you like coffee with your pie?" "No." "No, thank you." Each ate their pie before returning to their conversation. "Wonder how many of the guys joined the military." "Let me see.  I was at the twenty-five year reunion and if I remember Dean Harper spent three years in the Army.  Gene Rabowski, Paul Zayre, Colton Mayes all were in the Navy.  Fred James and Andy McDougall did the Air Force and Andy was a pilot for Delta.  Some were in the Marines but I cannot recall who." "Did our class have any future stars like actors, actresses or maybe athletes?" "Drama class had Sandy Miller and at that time she was working with the Halmark channel.  Tony Haller did a documentary on the daily life of this band from Iceland.  They had a screening for it at the communication school on the West side.  Let's see.   Spencer Logan, remember how good he was pitching?  He actually got drafted in round thirty-one after high school but went to college and threw his arm out there.  Ended up a sports writer in Atlanta." The waitress brought their bill and thanked them for visiting. "Guess it must be time to go.  Will see you tomorrow at the big event." "Okay.  It was great being able to eat here like we promised each other those fifty years ago." "Indeed, old buddy.  Have missed everyone over the years.  Even the classes." "Same here.  Will see you again tomorrow for sure." They each head for their respective auto eager for their 50th class reunion the next night.