Seraphina Celestis. Dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair with a hint of red–she was beautiful. Orion Blackthorn watched her gesticulating excitedly to her expo booth visitors, words pouring over each other as she described her research into the Luminary Artifact.

He felt awkward in a blue jumpsuit covered in luminescent stars, but he fit right in on the colorful planet Astraloria. It was the kind of place that could be called lush, with as many tall tropical trees as buildings. He was in the capital city, Celestis, and he was staring at a descendant of its namesake: Seraphina. When the crowd around her thinned, he approached the booth, focusing his attention on the holographic display of the artifact. Orion wasn’t sure what to make of the bright cube pulsing with ethereal confidence. He was used to assessing things for their value to other people, but this one seemed to glow with a knowing insight: he wasn’t here for science, he was here to steal. “Isn’t it beautiful?” A voice beside him gushed. “It’s captivating,” he said, turning to see Seraphina, nearly jumping out of her gorgeous yet completely functional blue dress. “Captivating,” he repeated, now describing her instead of the object. “It has the potential to change the path of research into quantum mechanics and temporal physics,” she exclaimed. “Sounds like you have the perfect background,” he said, smiling. “My parents were pioneers in their chosen research paths, so I suppose being able to utilize both of their fields is an advantage,” she said, nodding vigorously. He already knew his access to the artifact lay in taking advantage of this scientist, and the conscience that he usually kept hidden away made its presence known with a tightness in his stomach. He recalled her profile for the dozenth time. Her parents were renowned astrophysicists who lived on the outskirts of the city. A prodigy from an early age, she had already cemented her place in history with her research on celestial mechanics. She was the natural choice to study the artifact when it was discovered several years ago.

He thought about his own parents: his mom, the stern but loveable teacher, and his dad, the gruff city worker, both doing their best to raise a child on a dark, crime-ridden planet. He'd joined the Shadow Sable Consortium as a teenager, doing their dirty deeds until he'd escaped to make his own way. Now he was tired of running, and he hoped to get back in their good graces by selling access to research about the artifact. He focused back on Seraphina. “Your parents were blessed to create such an intelligent and beautiful offspring.” He smiled as the compliment hit its target. “Orion Swiftwind,” he said, extending his hand. “Usually I'm up in orbit, but I heard great things about your research.” “Seraphina Celestis,” she said, shaking his hand with sudden shyness. “What do you study?” “I'm just a pilot,” he said, leaning on his made up persona. “All I know is how to make the engine go zoom.” She giggled, and he said, “I'm sure you get this a lot, but I'll be kicking myself if I don't ask: Would you like to get dinner?” Her face showed a tangle of emotions, and she looked away. Orion paused; maybe his assumption had been wrong and she did get a lot of attention planetside. She said with distaste, “People only ask me to dinner to network.” He laughed. “Well I suppose we could call it that.” He moved strategically close. “I meant as a date.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “Where do people go on dates?” Orion chose a slightly fancy restaurant–not his typical fare but expensive enough for Seraphina's cultured upbringing. She explained her research with animated gestures, going off into random side tangents and describing ideas in way too much detail, but he didn’t want to stop her obvious enjoyment. She was a scientist, and, like a child proudly displaying her art, she wanted to share her knowledge.

When it was his turn, she listened rapturously as he described his adventures across the galaxy, disguising his smuggling as “research.” As they returned to her home, he thought about his plan. He sensed her innate trust in him, and he felt a yearning he’d rarely felt, something more than sexual. He thought he saw a kindred soul, comfortable in her environment but profoundly lonely. He wanted to spend more time with her. As he contemplated ways to convince her to see him again, she asked, “Do you want to come in? I have snacks.” He laughed. ”You must not have many visitors,” he said. “No,” she said, her voice dipping with sadness. “Just other scientists. I have a whole lab in my basement.” They stopped outside the door of her house. “Basements are where the fun happens,” he said.

“Are they?” she asked unironically. “Come on in. Hello Athena,” she called, and the door unlocked. “Hello Seraphina,” a female voice said.

“Who’s that?” he asked, on guard in case she had a roommate or worse: a mother. “Oh, that’s Athena. She’s my AI.” Seraphina bounced into the house. “Nice to meet you,” the voice said. “Are you a dashing rogue here to take my Seraphina on an extraordinary adventure?” “I wouldn’t say all that,” he said, silently pleased to be described as dashing. “I’ve had enough adventure in my lifetime.” “He’s here for the expo,” Seraphina said. “His name is Orion Swiftwind.” He braced himself in case the AI discovered his thinly veiled identity. He exhaled with relief when the computer merely said, “Pleased to meet you, Captain Swiftwind.” “Fruit?” she asked, walking toward her kitchen. Orion nodded as he got his bearings. It was a tasteful and warm home, with plaques dotting the wall and potted plants covering the floor. Reading one of the plaques, he said, “Your parents must be so proud of you.” “They are,” she said. “But I wouldn't be where I am without them. They've given me so many opportunities.” She offered the bowl of colorful fruit to him. “What about yours?” “I haven’t lived up to their expectations,” he answered truthfully. “But I owe a lot to them.” Stuck under the Consortium’s rule, his parents would be paying for his sins until he died or came back. The thought of finishing this job and finally returning home filled him with energy as he said, “Enough about me. Tell me more about your work.” He left her house that night with the beginnings of a connection and a pang in his heart, whether with satisfaction or guilt he wasn’t sure. Early the next morning he sent a message to an old contact. I may have something Marcellus will be interested in.

The reply came back quickly. Looking for redemption? He sighed again. I have conditions , and he imagined Adrian smiling at the word.

Adrian Voss had been like an older brother, introducing him to the Consortium and training him in the ways of a thief. He remembered the days they spent in the alleys together, baring their souls and sharing the dream of wealth and power.

It all changed with Nebula’s Embrace. Orion had been sent with a small crew for a simple heist. They’d stolen the Embrace, but things went wrong on the way back home. All alone, Orion had hidden the device on an asteroid, resolving to leave the Consortium and live a law-abiding life.

Orion had told Adrian he planned to leave, and the older man saw his opportunity to cement his place in the Consortium’s hierarchy. He exposed Orion just as he was escaping on a cargo ship. Forever labeled a traitor, Orion took to the stars, finding work where he could in the shadows of the galactic underworld.

He spent the next few weeks enjoying his time with Seraphina. He had been right: the only people who interacted with her were scientists interested in her work or the public who revered her. It made it easy to integrate himself into her life, but it brought more than occasional bouts of guilt. “Caelum said I shouldn't be so trusting,” she said one day while they were out walking. Caelum is right , he said to himself, but out loud he said, “Isn't that the one who wanted to do the research on the artifact?” She nodded. “I think she's just jealous.” “I'm so excited to go on the Celestial Voyager and visit the artifact,” she said, eyes sparkling. ”It'll be amazing to see it up close.” She turned and grabbed his arm. “Can you take me on your ship one day? Maybe go see your parents?” He avoided her eyes. “I'd have to see what contracts are coming up.” In his mind, though, he wanted to say Yes! with as much excitement as she carried in her lithe body. But this fantasy only went so far–he was a hardened criminal, after all. A future with Seraphina was impossible. Finally and with considerable enthusiasm, she showed him her basement lab. Orion was impressed–he had seen spaceships with less technology–and he asked questions with genuine interest as well as to get the information he needed. The Consortium’s hacker created an insertable key that would bypass the lab’s security systems and continuously upload Seraphina’s research into the cloud.

Orion picked up the key but held on to it for days, unwilling to end his time with Seraphina. Getting a second lab tour was easy, as was plugging the key into a spare port. The only obstacle was Athena. “Seraphina, I've detected unauthorized access at your terminal.” The AI sounded gentle but firm in her communication, likely to keep Seraphina from panicking. “What?” Seraphina asked. “What's going on?” “Captain Swiftwind is accessing your data.” She turned her dark eyes on him. “What are you doing?” He shrugged, slightly frustrated at her innocence. “I'm stealing your research.” “But why?” He closed his eyes to avoid the bewildered stare. “I’m a thief,” he said, “That’s what I came to do. I’m selling the data to the Shadow Sable Consortium. I’ve been an outlaw for years, and I’m buying my way back in.” “Back in?” He nodded. “With criminals?” She lowered her head. “I’m so stupid,” she said quietly.

“It's not personal…” he started to say. “It's for my parents,” he said more firmly. “Right now they're prisoners on their own planet. After this deal I can finally see them again.” “Your parents?” she asked. He nodded. “I wasn't able to stop the root process on the system,” Athena said. “Please remove the key and destroy it immediately.” Seraphina moved toward the terminal, and Orion wondered if he should try to stop her.

Slowly she pulled the key out of the terminal, looking at it like an artifact of its own. Key in hand, she walked toward him. With inches between them, she opened her hand. “It's for your parents,” she said quietly, brown eyes staring at him with sympathy. “Take it.” Orion took the key, but he felt stuck in place, frozen with guilt. He closed his eyes and made a decision. He walked to the terminal and opened a secure connection. Adrian was standing by, waiting to hear news.

“I changed my mind,” he said, watching both of them for a reaction. Seraphina's was more obvious as she brought her hands to her mouth. He held up the key in his hand. “You can't access the data without this key, and I'm going to destroy it.” Adrian glanced around the room and spotted Seraphina. “Going for the romantic gesture, I see?” His voice held no trace of the empathy and affection that used to exist between them. “You know I'm not going to leave empty handed.” Orion said firmly, “Then I’ll offer something of equal value. Nebula’s Embrace.” “What about it? We all know about your incompetence.” “It wasn’t incompetence, Adrian.” He tried to keep his voice from trembling. “The Embrace didn’t go missing that day. I hid it, and I’ll tell you where to find it if you settle my debt now. Leave me, my parents,” he looked over, “and Seraphina alone.” Adrian's expression shifted from disdain to a flicker of surprise. “Send me the location, and then I'll decide what to do with you.” Hands shaking, Orion pulled up a map of the Eclipsar Cluster. A few more key strokes and the deed was done.

Adrian mused silently over the information before saying, “So you weren't as naive as you seemed, little brother. This will do.” He closed the connection, leaving a tense silence.

Seraphina Celestis looked at the floor, shoulders slumped. “What happens now?” she asked. “Now I can stop running. And I can finally see my parents again.” “And what about me?” She looked up at him with a mixture of grief and disappointment, and Orion instinctively stepped closer. "I never meant to hurt you, Seraphina. I was lost, seeking a way back into the Consortium. But in the process I found something.” “What?” she asked. “You,” he said. He closed the distance and took her hands. “Come on my ship with me. I can take you to the Luminary Artifact.” “You can?” she asked excitedly. “Yes, and I'll protect you and your research.” “Protect? Will they come back?” she asked. “Yes, but we’ll be ready.” He pulled her into his arms. “You have me now.” “How can I trust you again?” she asked, doubt lingering in her eyes. “I know I can’t ever make up for betraying you,” he said, “but I will tell you everything. I’ll do whatever it takes to rebuild your trust. Seraphina, I love you.”

He waited in suspense as she considered, head leaning against his chest. After a moment, she nodded, and from there they joined together in a celestial bond that would withstand the test of time.


Chapter Four: Past Salem; 23, La Jolla

“Jimmy, Damien said that he found someone close to us to hijack dad's plane. He said he didn’t have to pay them, they wanted to do it.” I say as I dress behind a curtain in the hospital triage. Jimmy doesn’t say anything for long moments and I can see him thinking about what I just said. When he does speak his words break my heart, “Salem, please don’t believe anything that maniac said. He was saying ANYTHING to hurt you.” I look at Jimmy, his skin just as flawless as it has been my whole life, he looks wrecked from the havoc going on in our lives. His normally happy eyes are downcast and sad. I felt bad that this was having such a bad effect on Jimmy. He looked more tortured about what had happened with Damien than he did after the plane crash. “He wasn’t lying!” I still reject his denial. “I could tell when Damien lied, his left eye twitches.” I say before correcting myself, I mean twitched. “Damien was crazy and confused, but he wasn’t a liar.”

Jimmy is , the thought was random but I knew it was true. Jimmy and Jordan had lied to me plenty of times, they seemed to think if it was protecting me. Now I was left with Jimmy, who is a coward and obviously hiding something that he doesn’t want me to investigate. “Honey.” Jimmy starts, “How about we let Jordan rest in peace. In the end, he was doing what he loved most. It was the Lord’s plan for Jordan to impact fashion, impact the world. For a white man, Jordan was culture!” Tears began falling and he sniffled. “Honey, I don’t want to give the media anymore t ruths to exploit and mix with lies. There’s no eyewitnesses to give a true story, there’s nothing to find there.” But there was, the person who hijacked the plane lived, right? I wondered if Jordan’s cameras on the plane recorded to the JET cloud. Jimmy stands rubbing my arms, his expression sympathetic. “Salem I’m going to fly out the day after tomorrow. Whenever you’re ready to move on and not talk about Jordan’s unfortunate, tragic fate.” He starts sobbing, “This is why I cannot. His passing is my worst nightmare, the worst day of my life. I don’t want to keep talking about it.” His voice was cracking as he sobbed. I could understand why constantly bringing up the past could hurt. Then it hit me, Jimmy didn’t want to know the truth. There was something else going on that Jimmy didn’t want the world to know. I would definitely investigate, privately. I could never forgive the fuckers who did this or forgive Damien unless there was justice. “Retribution isn’t the answer.” Jimmy says as if he can read my thoughts. I didn’t respond because running and hiding wasn’t the answer either. Damien is dead. I would never be able to have him sent to prison, he wasn’t coming back. The hijacker however, was out there. If the Marine patrol was right then someone had a speed boat waiting and ended up driving Jordan to the island, hoping to save him, after attempting to kill him. Why? There was so much more that I needed to know. I decided then that after I found a new place to live not here in California or Oregon I would investigate Jordan’s death myself. “Salem I will get a room ready for you at home. Just come back to Oregon and let’s move on.” Grabbing and squeezing Jimmy’s hand looking at his blank brown eyes. I know it’s probably hard for him to look at me with the giant gash on the left side of my head from Damien hitting me with the end of a cane. I’m sure my black eyes and swollen cheek don’t make it easier.

If I was honest with myself I could admit it was hard for me to look Jimmy in the eye. He betrayed me on what felt like the ultimate stage. Did I need to know at that moment that they lied to me my entire life? The real question was, why? Why adamantly tell me that I was adopted and that my parents just didn’t want to raise a baby? I winced in pain as I stretched my bandaged feet. They and my ankles are cut and

still kind of bleeding from the glass I ran through while trying to escape. I should’ve ran to a car instead of stupidly freaking out after seeing the system was broken. There were two sets of keys hanging right next to the security pad. I had two cars there waiting and yet I didn’t go to either. Tears pricked my eyes as my mind wandered back to my home. I remembered the way my thighs quivered as I begged Damien to stop eating me, or fucking me each time he looked at me with a hungry glint in his eyes. He had the same glint in my sex room tonight. I am ashamed that I came each time his mouth ravaged my sensitive flesh. Unabashed shame flooded me when I thought about the way my traderous body spasmed from him eating me. He would do all the things he knew I loved and take my body while I cried through it all, wishing I’d never met him. It was my deepest secret that I would never tell. I orgasmed while being raped. I can’t let Ray love me the way he wanted to. I am so fucked up. I’m a selfish bitch though, I can’t let him go either. I want Ray to love me always. I need his unconditional love. I need to know that he is still mine and I am his. Ray knew abmy time in New York. From all the conversations I had with Jordan he never mentioned me being raped. He also never mentioned the partying. Jordan would’ve lost his mind if he knew about the drugs and the partying. About the night I slept in the art studio because I didn’t know how to tell Diane I didn’t want to go home. For some reason I could tell that Ray knew most of it. Atleast everything that I had told Juan.

Jimmy squeezed my hand, bringing me back to the present. “Salem, you may need to stay the night at the hospital. You seem out of it.” He looked concerned so I gave him a small smile. I needed to shut Jimmy out. He was only going to slow me down from finding Jordan’s killer. I needed justice and answers. My phone buzzed an unknown number and I silenced it. They’ll leave a message if it’s important. Wincing as I stand on my aching feet. I pull Jimmy into a tight hug, “I love you Jimmy. I am going to miss you so much.” I pulled away from him seeing the disappointment in his expression and I continue breaking his heart, “I am going to pass on going back to Oregon. I can’t go back there knowing that dad is not there.” Tears begin falling from my eyes as my truth rips the barely hanging bandage from both of our hearts. I loved my dad so much. “I know you’ve always been the one guiding me out of the storms, but this time I’m going to find my own way. Who knows I might actually play in the rain a little?” I chuckled as tears kept falling down my cheeks. Jimmy nods, “Okay my dear.” He wipes his tears, turning to grab his Gucci duffle bag. “I love you still, so please at least send a text from time to time. Okay?” I nod unable to speak. This feels like the band is breaking up and I don’t understand why. Jimmy is still my father, so why does it feel like I won’t see him again?


It is always said that there are two kinds of people in this world- sheep, and wolves in sheep's clothing. The two gentlemen who had just now assumed the command of this cold bank lobby were definitely no sheep. While the one with a blank white mask made the teller squirm, the one wearing an ogre mask held a woman by her nape, and pressed his gun to the back of her head. One always does assume that they won’t be possessed to commit such acts of barbaric brutality, but these men had no delusions about their capabilities. The white faced guy was Robert "Rob" Von Pearson. Son of a brilliant banker, Arnold Von Pearson, he was a young, brilliant kleptomaniac, with an acidic animosity towards authorities in his life. Disowned at 15, he lived his life on his own expectations and capabilities. As an adult, he was tall and toned with wavy black hair curling into tangles which seemed to be just as twisted as he did, and a fancy fluency when he spoke which could put anyone at ease, or rob their comfort away. People always assumed the "Rob" was on account of his name, what it really was on the account of his hobby. The ogre held the identity of Charles Mason. They guy was a marvel of human body, a top physical specimen. Tall, broad, dark, with long hair, running down to his shoulders. As a kid, he was close to Jenny, his elder sister. Jenny and Rob were very close, and that is how the two had come to known each other. One evening however, they found young Jenny suspended by her neck from the beams which carried the burden of the ceiling in her room. Charles never did understand the why of it, and for some time after that he and Rob made some unsuccessful attempts to find out the why of this mystery. But this was in times past now, all they had left of those days were memories, some on the verge of being lost, some misshapen, some perfervid, and some ardent. What did however remain was the friendship they had forged then. Rob had an immense influence in Charles, and they grew up learning the secrets of the trade. Rob was the idea man, and Charles was the one who could execute it with dexterity. Together they had made their fame amongst conmen, thieves, and of course, the state police and federal police. The dream, the plan was to witness the dawn of the 21st century, in the arms of luxurious women and wine, and to spend their dotage in the same way. They were about to reach that margin, and ten years before the deadline at that too. Now, standing in the middle of all the action, and being the center of attention, these two men, looked at each other and gave a mutual nod. They did not need fake and silly names to call each other during work, their understanding was too deep, and never failing. Except, for just moments before they had just made their ferocious and swift entrance. The guard outside the bank, Rob was supposed to call his attention, and Charles was to dispose him of his life. There was no other way about it, or so said Rob. "We can’t put on the mask before taking care of him. They're gonna see us coming and call the cops. And we can’t let him live, he'll see our faces. Trust me Charlie, it’s the only way."  But for the first time in his life, Charles hesitated when snapping someone's neck. Rob darted his eyes back and forth between him and the guard, but when the guard turned around to follow the sight of the stranger before him, Rob did not hesitate to pull out stiletto, and pierce his neck with it. His movements had finesse, and grace, and coldness in it. The warm blood rushed out to color his hands, but he did not let it fall on his suit. He looked at Charles, his eyes reflecting disappointment, but he did not say anything, there would be time for that after. Quickly they put on their mask, and Charles picked up the martyr. A shot was fired, and everyone dropped to the floor. It almost looked rehearsed. This was the genius of Robert Pearson, no one could explain it, but no one could deny it either. His presence, his posture, and his cold stare, could cripple even the toughest of alphas. He could have said something, but he did not need to, everyone knew what he could do, rather what he would do at the very hint of slightest disobedience. Charles put the body down, and let its weight fall on the wall, as his blood kept gushing out, painting red the clean, cold, white marble floor. It seemed he took a second or two to get up, as if to pay his respect to this man, while his jacket sleeves, poured his the dead man's blood drop by drop into the puddle just below. He untucked his jacket, and with a smooth motion, pulled out his shiny silvery gun. Like a shard of glass, it split the sunlight for anyone who gazed on it, and for who did gaze on it, it looked almost holy. But as he stepped forward, and out of the sunlight, the metal seemed to seep out coldness, replacing warmth with fear. In a flash did he smack someone out of the way, and grabbed a small woman, by her nape and put the cold gun against the back of her head. As Charles returned his usual brutal self, Rob couldn’t help but feel more confident, and more pride in his tutelage, and upbringing. He turned to the teller, and made his way to him, without a hurry, like a stroll in the park. He put his gun against the glass window, and casually flung his bags on the counter, then gave a gentle tap on the window. As the sense of the safety and comfort escaped this teller, he could not help but look into the eyes of this white masked man. His eyes conveyed the commands with ease. He made his presence known to everyone in the room without saying a word. His face was never considered to be attractive but he always seemed to attract all attention nonetheless. He looked now at the teller, and he made it known who was in charge here. He was the king, and everyone else present there on that day, his subjects. The teller sensed an apathetic, condescending, and cold amusement in the eyes of his new master. He couldn’t help but stare at the azure eyes piercing right through him. Ever so often he would fumble, and each time he felt like it would be his last, but he could only sense the amusement in the eyes to get more childlike. Like a child, toying with a solitary ant, for amusement, for curiosity, before finally crushing it under his heel, that was what this amusement felt like. He could not help but sympathize with the ant now, being the subject of this torture which lacked the innocence. He did however see how it gave the man before him an ecstatic adrenaline rush, and the very thought of being a part of this transaction made him feel dirty. It was like waking up in the middle of an afternoon nap, one does not know how he came to be awake, just that he is. It was the same way for Rob, when something grabbed his attention, maybe it was a sound, or maybe the shadows moved on the periphery of his eyes. He turned around to a see an unseen scene: Charles as a hostage, that too by some greasy cop flashing his badge with the hand he used to lock Charles by his neck, while other held a black gun to his temple. Rob turned his head halfway, to look at the general direction of the teller, and gave a gentle nod. Even a nod from Rob felt like a threat, and the teller obliged, caring no more who would best who, he did what he was told, like an obedient servant. Rob turned his attention to Charles and this brave fool who would take him as a hostage. Charles rested his eyes as he caught his breath, and Rob felt like he had missed out on an epic showdown, or the fight of the century, in which he would bet on Charles a thousand times over. Looking at Charles now, he did not know why, but he remembered how he was moments before all of this went down. They were in their getaway car, across the street from the bank, waiting for noon to come around, along with their small window of opportunity. He looked over and saw Charles staring in the distance towards the guard he was supposed to take care of. His eyes, like always, were unburdened with thoughts of higher order, simply because it was not his job to do so. He always was an excellent foot soldier. He was pulled back to reality again, as the sound of the screaming cop was being tuned from blurry to clear. This time however, it didn’t feel like a lazy afternoon nap, but more of a slap, snapping him out of this state. He was sure he heard the cop say his name . Paul Wolfe was still a rookie, only on the second month of his job as a beat cop, his career so far was not so stellar. Yet, all one does need is an opportunity. Some wait for the right one, and some create the right one. Here he was, in the middle of an action-movie showdown, a famed beast, now tamed in his headlock, while he had to convince the other to surrender. He could feel his eyes on him, but he didn’t have his attention, his instructions were in vain. Rob showed nothing but blithe, and that was very a trembling thought for him. In that moment he decided to take action, and gain the upper hand so he called out his name. “Robert Pearson, you are under arrest for 18 counts of grand larceny, robbery of 7 AVP banks, one attempted robbery, and one count of murder of Jenny Mason” Like a wounded boar did Charles struggle, a spark lit something tucked away deep within him, at the sound of that name and what had just been said. It pricked him, just like it would prick a lifelong priest to find out his God is a lie, or a man, fiercely religious, plagued with thoughts of taboo. He rejected the possibility of it, and struggled. The sudden motion of this hulking bull, sent panic across the spine of the cop, like it would do to any human being. He focused too much on keeping Charles in the head lock, and he left his other hand a bit too loose. By the time he realized what he had done wrong it was too late, a small knife had already taken flight from Rob’s hands, and it hit him right near the trigger, Charles broke free, and let loose a punch. The hero flew for a second there, losing his consciousness, his final act was to pull the trigger. He had no idea, who it would hit, if it would hit anyone, but it was all he could do, and he did. Charles walked over onto his limp body, grabbed his collar and pulled him up to him. His scent triggered some happy memories in Charles, but he could only feel a sting now. He was about to make this cop an exhibit of his brutality, when a cry for help overcame his anger, he recognized the voice but did not want to face the person it belonged to. At first it felt nothing, and then suddenly, a warm feeling gripped him, right in his guts. Rob went down immediately after that. All he could think was how much he hated this feeling, it reminded him of someone he knew long ago, when he felt warmth of a different kind. Soon things began to fade, it felt like falling into a bottomless pit, perhaps it was not the bullet, it was this life, but he knew this feeling was just there to give his imminent death more meaning. A profound epiphany, a lesson learnt, and then death. With what little he had, he cried for Charles. Then were these little flashes of consciousness, he was in the passenger seat of the car, Charles was driving, pressing a cloth on his wound, and there was a song on the radio, it was about love. When he came to, he saw a farm pass by, he recognized it, it was the interstate, and they were moving towards the safe house. He looked over at Charles, and his eyes were troubled, and then he looked over too. Charles asked Rob a question, and he replied, truthfully, he was too tired not to. Then he fell into the limbo again. Rob was thrown on the ground; that woke him, he managed to get up and sit on his knees, as Charles put a gun on his head. He looked around, they were in a moor, the sun was shining through the tall green leaves into his eyes, they were not much far away from the place where they would be safe. He looked at Charles again and said nothing, neither did Charles, this was not the time to exchange words, it was time for a vendetta. Charles tucked his gun in the blood stained black jacket of his suit, and began to unleash his wrath on his childhood friend. Anger was cathartic to Charles, the way he grew up with Rob, he felt no shame or guilt in it. Rob struggled but it was useless, he tried to reach out for another one of his hidden knives, but Charles knew him too well, not giving him a fair chance. He threw him once again and spread his hands around his neck, choking him, this time without any hesitation. And just when he was about to remove his only family left in the world, he saw something shiny, something small, redirecting the rays of sun into his eyes, blinding him just for a moment. It was a small knife; one which he had never seen before, and it was moving towards him now. It was too fast, and Charles was too slow. It made its way through his eye, and hot blood came rushing out. This time, however, Rob was not able to save his suit neither did he attempt to. The blood dripped on his face while he held the knife tightly. As the entire weight of his friend, and disappointment lay on him, he pushed the former off of him, and Charles lay there in the grass, still pumping out blood and it mixing with the fresh wet soil. He looked once again at Charles, he really looked unburdened by thoughts of higher order. He took a moment, before he made his way to the car. He saw bloodied masks in the back seats through the rear view mirror, and then the corpse of his loyal soldier as he drove away, somehow managing the pain and his reckless driving in that state. Back at the safe house, he mended himself, managing to stop the blood, but the bullet was still buried deep in him. He lay on the couch now, and closed his eyes, meditating and contemplating on that day’s events. The more he thought about it the more tense he got, the more uncomfortable at the thought of it. His pain mattered less and less each moment. His mind paced fast, asking all the right questions now that he was out of danger and safe. Then a cold circle relieved some of the heat from his sweaty forehead. It was the cop, who was just as tense as he was, his eyes looking around and searching for someone, “Where is he? Where is Charles?’ Rob lay there in silence, looking straight into his eyes. “Where is he? Where is Charlie?” The silence made Paul snivel, he knew what had happened, and he knew who to blame. His knees went weak and his eyes teared up, “Where is my Charlie??” his voice broke, and he felt like he would choke on his own guilt. Rob still said nothing, he had learnt a lesson that day: he was not the only one wearing a mask. Paul did too, he just wasn’t sure what it was, only that he would have to bear the guilt for the rest of his life. They rode back the interstate in silence, Rob, cuffed in the back seat, amazed by how little he knew, this was a new feeling for him, the feeling of knowing that he did not know enough, it would take some getting used to. Paul could barely drive, his eyes would water up every few minutes, and he let it all flow over him, like standing against a strong ocean wave, after all he only had this drive left to be himself, for when he reached the destination, he put on his own mask as well. He knew what would follow he got his promotion along with the guilt, and Rob got his sentence, but there was still some time left, the road had not ended. The sun shone brightly, into their eyes, and the radio sang another song of love.


PROLOGUE

“He’s getting out of control. He needs to be stopped.” said the voice in the shadows.

“He’s only fourteen.” “That’s old enough. I mean he fooled the machine, he has to be dangerous.” There it was again, the man’s sickly machine that kept all mankind “in line” or so he said. Just yesterday a boy was found in the warehouse where the machines were made. This is the most unsuspected thing. That is saying a lot considering we have a machine that knows what everybody in this state is going to do, has done or even might do. This machine had too much power. The man in the shadows had too much power. Chapter one I am Tylar Sumar and I’m fourteen years old. How many of you think that fourteen is too young to be in a prison in the middle of a boiling lake where you constantly have to be making things? Not whole things mind you parts of things. They tell you to make a shape or something sharp like the tip of a sword and then they throw it into the boiling lake. I’m okay with this, well not the prison thing but the building and tinkering I love. Now I’m not Hephaestus’ son or anything but I could be. Just yesterday I heard some of the guards talking about how they'd never seen a prisoner my age with the skill of making a little robotic

mouse in just under five minutes. I’m not trying to brag but I mean that's pretty cool you gotta admit. Anyways they threw me in here for trying to get into this warehouse. I never found out what was in the warehouse because I was walking around the side when sirens started blaring and searchlights turned on. They might have been looking for someone else but they found me instead.

“ ALRIGHTY LUNCH TIME!” the guard next to me yelled.

Yeesh why couldn't he go off to the side somewhere so I didn’t go deaf before I hit thirty. Even though my ears were still ringing I went to lunch. Today we got sandwiches with ham and cheese. Then once we were done eating we got ten minutes of free time before we had to go back to making things. I took out my dirty rag that contained my tinkering scrap that I stole. Hey I’m in prison for a reason. Anyways, I started to work on the scrap trying to find a way to make a bird for my mouse when a girl walked up to me. She watched me as I worked on my bird which was coming along nicely for once. After a minute or so she said,

“nice bird.” “Thanks.”

I had never seen this girl before which was weird because I had learned all of the prisoners' names and what they looked like. It wasn’t hard because there were about ten of us on the island. I began to wonder whether she was a new prisoner, but then I realized we would have heard if someone new came here.

“My name’s Ava.” she said “Mine’s Tylar.” “You ready to leave.” “To where.” “To the unknown.” Suddenly she disappeared. I was pretty sure the heat had made me hallucinate the whole encounter, I also hoped that everyone else at the prison wouldn't think I was crazy. Then I disappeared too. I mean I literally fell into the ground and was gone. I couldn't see anything. I was freaking out. It must have been hours later when I finally woke up. I looked around and what I saw around me was definitely not a prison surrounded in a boiling lake. It looked like a jungle with trees as tall as the empire state and about as wide as a sycamore. It was humid and I could hear all sorts of sounds like frogs croaking and bugs chirping. I even heard a roar in the distance. I looked around for the girl but saw no one. Then I saw pairs of yellow eyes looking at me from the dark jungle. They all walked out of the forest in unison and I saw that they were tigers. Listen I had nothing. I was just dropped here by some random girl from a prison, I didn’t have bubble gum like the guy from My Father’s Dragon. What I did have was a half made metal bird. Wow big help. I was beginning to freak out because these tigers were coming at me in such unison. Then I heard the slight buzzing, not the bugs or birds that were making so much noise but the tiger things. I realized they must be machines. That was a huge surge of relief. I don’t know why because if they were machines then they still probably had metal teeth. Watched as they came closer. Machine or not I would be dead within a couple of seconds. Then they stopped abruptly and I looked at them wondering what. Suddenly one of the tigers opened its mouth and a voice came from inside the tiger. It said “I don’t know where you are or how you left the prison but I can tell you something that no prisoner has escaped the prison alive. Now I want you to tell me where you are so we can have a friendly little chat.” It waited as if I was going to give a response then said, “I suppose not then.” And the tigers lunged. Just as suddenly as they lunged arrows flew from the surrounding trees. And just like that the tigers fell smoking and sparking. Each one with several arrows in its chest or side. I looked around hoping that the archers wouldn't shoot me. I waited five minutes before I went to check the surrounding area for people. There were none. However I did find a golden medallion hanging on a tree branch with a moon engraved on its surface. I grabbed it and put it in my pocket. Then I heard footsteps. Running towards where the lions were still lying smoking and sparking. I saw the girl from before what was her name? Oh yeah Ava, I saw Ava run into the clearing see the lions and immediately look towards the trees. I hid behind one of the trees and stood silent unsure of whether Ava really wanted to help me or if she had brought me here to be eaten by the lions. I waited for her to turn her back to me or leave but she looked in my direction the whole time. Then she turned into a bird and flew away. I kid you not. Then something told me to follow the bird so I did. Walking in the direction of the bird then running then full on sprinting after the bird. I looked down and realized that I was close to the ground running faster than I ever had before with black fur on my legs. I’ll tell you that this freaked me out. I had paws. I stopped running and looked at myself in a pool of water. I was a fox! That's what I saw at least. Shaggy brown-orange fur with a long pointed muzzle and black fur on my paws and tips of my ears.

Chapter two “What of the boy?” “I don’t know how sir but all of our lions were destroyed.” The man in shadow sighed deeply and sat up. “Please tell me that you got some of his voice.” “No sir he…” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE DIDN’T SPEAK.” “He didn’t answer and we were going to plan B when we lost connection.” “Did you find the hardware of the lion.” “No….. sir.” His yell of outrage could be heard all the way to the prison. Why was I a fox. That’s all I could think for the next hour. I was well aware when the bird landed across the pool of water but I made no move to try to catch it. When I fell asleep I had a weird dream, it was about two men. One of them always kept in shadow and the second man was the voice of the lion. They were talking about a boy. It took me a while to realize that they were talking about me. Something about the man in the shadow was creepy, even evil. The other man seemed scared about something.

“How many do we have.” said the man in the shadows “Around twenty sir.” the other man said “And what of the girl.” “She was last seen flying southwest.” “Did he follow.” “Yes.” “Do you know their location?” “Right at the banks of Wasasomin lake.” “Perfect.” I woke to the sound of frogs croaking and bugs chirping. What I immediately noticed was I was human again. Also Ava was standing over me. “AHHH.” I said “Finally you’re awake I thought you'd died in your sleep.” she said. I sat up looking around, then I remembered my dream.

“We have to leave.” “Why?” “The man with the lions knows where we are and is coming.” “How do you know that.” “It was my dream.” We got up and began to run towards the trees when I heard the sound of a helicopter. I looked up and there it was hovering over the lake. I saw what looked like people jumping from the helicopter into the lake. They landed with a ginormous splash and started to walk towards us. They were robots I was sure of it. The helicopter was fifty or so feet in the air when they jumped. Each one had old spartan armour on with rusty old spear and a scabbard at their side. Five of them were different. They had black armour and a long range rifle and a pistol at their side. And no arrows flew to meet them. Ok I thought we’ll have to get out of this without some archer to take out our enemies for us. Dang it.

“Come on.” Ava yelled. We ran through the jungle for quite a while before we stopped at a river that ran across our path. I ran to the edge of the river and realized there would be no getting out of this. The robots pulled out their weapons. TO BE CONTINUED


My day starts off as it always does. I groggily roll off of my queen mattress, and enter my bathroom. I brush my teeth, wash my face, curl my hair, apply deodorant, and all of the other mundane morning things. I return to my room and put on my outfit of the day; today’s outfit consists of tight jeans and a floral blouse. After slipping my shoes on, I leave apartment 1b. The drive to work is quick and easy since it’s five in the morning. I clock in, and the day of answering high stress calls begins.

“Please send help! My sister just fell down the stairs! S-she’s not getting up! Please!” A frightful sounding teenager implores. “I think there’s somebody in my house. Nobody is supposed to be home right now,” a women’s voice whispers. “I think...I’m having an allergic reaction. P-please help me...” a man wheezes out. You may or may not have been able to guess, but I am a 911 operator. My job is basically dealing with high anxiety situations with extreme calmness. ”Everything is going to be okay, ma’am. Help is on their way right now. Just breathe. Your sister is going to be all right,” I assure you the best of my ability. ”Okay, are you locked in a different room? Can anybody gain access to the room you’re in? Okay, the authorities are on their way. Don’t panic. Just stay on the line with me, please,” I tell the young lady. ”Okay, do you have any allergies you currently know of? Peanuts, okay. Help is on the way, so stay on the line with me in the meantime,” I help the man through his scary moment. Over the years, I have gotten better and better at being calm. Yes, my work is very hard. Many people probably couldn’t handle the types of things I have to endure on the daily. Hearing of people’s pain, their fear, and everything is tough to deal with. I am glad to say, though, that I have never had a freak out on the phone before. Well, there was only one time, but that is another story for another day.

On average, I get 50 calls a day. Each ranges from a shooting to a prank call from some random teenager. I can handle it all without the bat of an eyelash. When I get home, sometimes it’s hard to deal with, but I swore to myself that I would never let a caller know that I was scared for them.

Every Tuesday I get off 2 hours early. And every Tuesday since 2013, I have gone to Ben’s Diner and Grill off of Highland Ave. That’s exactly where I find myself going today. I pull into my regular parking spot, and enter the restaurant.

”Good morning! Welcome back, ma’am. Your regular booth is already set up. And I think you might have a visitor,” Angel, a waitress who I’ve grown to be good friends with, says. I smile at her, and walk to the far corner of the diner. From about 10 feet away, I see the back of somebody’s head. I assume it’s a girl due to the fact that her hair is in a high ponytail, yet reaches past her slim shoulders. I recognize those shoulders; I’ve cried on them thousands of times. Once I’m about 5 feet away, she senses my presence and she turns around. I am greeted with the warmest smile the world has ever seen. If I had seen that smile in October, I would have fallen to the ground and cried. But it was no longer October and I had recovered.

“Hey,” she says cooly. ”Hey, right back,” I reply. Then our regular conversation begins. She asks about my work, my home life, how my parents are, if I have a boyfriend yet, and every small thing anybody wouldn’t care less about. We go on and on for 2 hours, and then comes the hardest part. Angel comes back and tells Tessa that she’s got to go. Tess stands up with me following suit. We walk out of the diner, and she walks me to my car.

From there, I repeat what I’ve said the past seven years: “See you next Tuesday.” ”See you next Tuesday,” she returns the goodbye, and I hop into my car. I look back out of the window and she’s already gone. Tessa has been dead for 7 years, but she comes back every Tuesday to talk. 7 Years Ago It was another Tuesday, so I woke up and did my plain old morning routine. I got in my car, and the drive to work was easy as per usual. I walked into my office, and sat at my desk. The first three calls of the day were normal, and didn’t affect me. “I was jogging, and I fell in a ditch. I can’t move my leg. Could you please send somebody!” A man, who sounds as though he’s in agony pleads. “My son is choking! He’s turning purple! I...I don’t know w-what to do! Please, help me,” a terrified mother begs. “There is a man on the top of the building, and he looks like he’s about to jump. Please send a fire truck to use their ladder and get him,” a man tells me. For a new person in the field, they be feeling too much pressure and freak out my calls like these. These are all calls that I have experienced before, and know how to handle. “Sir, I have an ambulance on the way. Is there any chance you can crawl out of the ditch, and make yourself seen?” I help the man. “Alright, ma’am, I know it may seem like you’ll hurt him, but could you please try and give him the Heimlich maneuver? Help is heading your way now,” I assist the lady in helping her son. “Alright, just stay calm. Help is on the way. If necessary, please talk to him,” I advise the man. It wasn’t until around 2 that I got the call that would change my life forever. The phone rang, and I answered with the regular “911 what’s your emergency” spiel. The voice that replied to me sounded too familiar. “I’ve gotten into a horrific car accident. My car is flipped over, there’s glass everywhere, I’m bleeding. My two friends in the car aren’t moving. We were hit head on. I...I’m starting to see a light,” the lady said to me. I hesitate in answering her, “Okay...stay calm. Help is on the way. In the meantime, can you tell me your name?” She didn’t say anything for a minute, but when she did, I could help but gasp. “Tessa Allgood. My name is Tessa Allgood.” “Tess, it’s me,” I said to her. “Oh my god. Oh shit. I...I can’t believe I’m talking to you,” she let out a cough. “I’m not doing so hot.” “It’s okay, Tessa. You’re going to be alright. Just stay with me, Tess. It’s okay, you’re okay,” I repeated.

The phone was shaking in my hands, and I didn’t even realize there were tears pouring down my face.

“Please, Tessa, please.” “Shit, shit, shit. I...I’m not going to make it,” she whispered. I didn’t even know that I screamed but I did. I was screaming into my phone. I was saying her name over and over. I was begging her not to leave me. I was sobbing and telling her how I wouldn’t be able to survive. It wasn’t until somebody came over, and took the phone from my hands that I realized I had a tantrum of some sort. I wish I could tell you I was embarrassed, but I wasn’t. I was broken. I was lost. Tessa was my absolute rock, and she was probably gone. “I need to go to the interstate,” I said to myself. I picked myself up, and began to wobble toward the door. I could hardly see because of how much I had been crying, but I couldn’t care less. “Stop,” my manager said, “you’re not going anywhere like this. You can’t drive when you’re such a mess.” “I have...to see her,” I exclaimed.

“You...you can’t,” a voice said from behind me. “I’m sorry. She’s gone.” I simply remember hearing a buzzing noise and then hitting the floor and everything going black.

5 Weeks Later It was after Tessa’s funeral, and I had cried so much that I knew I couldn’t drive home. About one block away was a cute little restaurant that I decided to go to. The walk was grueling only because I was thinking about every little thing. I walked in, and a waitress named Angel began to guide me to a table. I walked behind her as we got closer and closer to the back. The diner was almost completely empty, except for a blonde girl at the very corner booth of the diner. As I was nearing the back corner, the lady turned around, and I couldn’t hold back my gasp. I stumbled backward like I had been punched in the gut; although it felt like I had since all the air seemed to leave my lungs. “This seat is alright, right, miss?” Angel asked me with a knowing smile on her face.

“Of course it is,” Tessa answered for me. She stood up from the table, and proved that it’s not a hallucination due to the fact that she touched my hand. I couldn’t do anything, but let her pull me into the seat. From there, she talked at me about how her journey to heaven has been. Every single detail left me more and more amazed. About 2 hours later, Angel came back and told Tessa that it was time to “depart”. Tessa stood up, and I was hesitant in following. When she looked back at me, I realized she wanted me to follow. I did as I assumed she wanted me to, and walked behind as she went out of the diner. She stopped about 2 feet out of the restaurant, and turned around. “See you next Tuesday,” she smiled the smile that I had missed so much. With tears in my eyes I repeated, “See you next Tuesday.” By: Sophia Cusick


 "Hey, hey you wake up." I heard a girl's voice but my eye's didn't want to compel, "Hey! Wake up!" The same voice said in a loud whisper. I slowly opened my eye's, the first thing I saw was bars and a dark room. Groggily I sat up and looked around I couldn't see much there was no lights that was clear. "Hey." I turn my head to look at where the voice was coming from. It was obvious a few seconds later I was in a cage or maybe a cell I could tell for sure not at first. The girl was on the other side of another set of bars to my right I crawled over to get a better look at her. "What's your name?" She asked me her english very broken but english all the same.

        "Sara, how did you know I spoke english?" I asked her confused it was so dark in the room I could barely make out her face.

        "Your hair it's red." She responded as she sat down against the bars. I remember putting my hand up to touch my hair than asked,         "Where are we?" She shrugged,         "Don't know."

        "Are there other kids?" She nodded,         "Yeah but they're asleep right now you'll meet them in the morning."

        "How many are here?"I asked copying how she sat.         "Depends on the day." I remember her shifting than asked, "Got a family?" I hesitated before answering thinking about how I was told by my cousin to never give our info to anyone, but I had nothing to lose,         "I have a brother, but I lost him a few months back." I confessed after the words came out tears were streaming down my face the pain I felt, the guilt, the defeat all hit me at once and I just weeped and weeped and weeped. After a well past-do cry the girl patted my shoulder and stated her name,         "I'm Cataleya, like the flower." I hiccuped and asked,     "Is there just girls or both?"     "Both." She said a little bit quieter.

    "Than have you seen a boy about 4'8 seven years old same red hair and a old yellow toy car in hand?"I turned around as I asked, but she never answered me she ended up saying,         "Get some sleep they wake us up early." She moved away from the bars and all I could see was the outline of her back. I don't remember falling asleep that night I just remember crying silently to myself.     Bright lights flashed on the next day waking everyone up. I rubbed my eye and observed my surroundings. I was in a big cage like thing, I was able to stand up in it and take three steps left from the middle and three steps right also from the middle it was the same for front and back. I looked over at the girl next to my right she was about in her late teen years with long black hair in a ponytail, she wore a dirty white shirt and jeans I noticed she never had shoes. She had a dark skin tone that had a sickly tint. I looked to my left there was a boy sitting in the corner knees to chest I couldn't see his face but I knew it was a boy because on his short hair and clothes. Finally I took in the rest of the room, it was a big and looked like a dog pound with how the cages were lined up in two rows, the one I was in, the one across a little girl was in front of me and two boys next to her, one teen and the other a little bit younger than that boy.     "That's Benni." Cataleya nodded to the little girl, "She's five came here with you last night." I look back at the little girl she was crying to herself silently standing at the "door" looking around. "That's Vicente." She looked over at the older boy, "He and I were brought here in the first week of the raids." The boy was sitting in down looking our way with a emotionless look. "The little boy doesn't have a name or at least I never learned it, he never talked."     "What is that boys name?" I motion to the boy that was to the left of me. She shrugged,     "Never go the chance to ask he is one of the quiet ones. There's a lot of those." I look back at the boy he looked back at me. Something about him would always different than the others. I walked over to him that day and asked him his name but he didn't speak so I asked him in spanish,     "¿Como te llaman?" When didn't say anything I told him my name, "Mi llamo Sara." He smirked a little and looked away.

        "Hey, Guera." The teen boy called to me calling me white girl it sounds like (weda) though.

        "¿Qué?" I looked at him how I thought my cousin would back in the states with a blank face.

        "How'd you learn spanish?"         "How'd you learn english?" I countered. He nods with a lopsided smile.

        "Need it for when white people like you show up."

        "Shut it Vicente." Cataleya says hearing the footsteps coming. He did but not without giving Cataleya a dirty look. I go sit down in the middle of the floor as a sound of heel clicked against the floor got closer. When she got into sight I saw a woman in a lab clock, her hair pushed back and wearing glasses. In her hand was a digital clipboard, it was made of glass and the handle was white on it was pictures and writing next to them. She stopped every few cages and held it up. She came to Benni's cage first then mine it was like she was confirming everyone after she was done with mine she continued down the endless idle.     "That's Josephina, she goes over everyone's states and confirms who's healthy or not." Cataleya explained.     "Why does it matter?" I asked. Her expression got dark as she spoke,     "You'll see soon enough."     I remember how the hours went by there was terror in the air filled with screams and agonizing sounds. People walking by with all types of things and every once in awhile a child or two every few hours but I don't remember seeing most of them coming back. When night fell they let us out one by one with a person holding a gun guiding us. When it was my turn the man didn't look at me just held his hand to the scanner and unlocked the door motioning me with the tip of the gun to start moving than gave me a little push and we walked down the idle to the a doorway and then turned right and walked down a curved hallway with many doors with a tiny window in them. I look back at the man behind me he wasn't Mexican either that much was obvious.     "Excuse me." I said in a small voice he looked down at me and grunted, "I was just wondering if my brother was here." I asked he didn't answer. "Please he is my only family I just want to know if he's here weather he's is alive or dead." I almost started crying at the thought of him being dead but with all the screaming and scars I've seen on people throughout that day it was possible.     "What is his name?"         "Sammy." He looked at me again.         "A last name." I shook my head. He sighed then motioned to keep moving. When we turned another corner there was another door that led to the dining room. The man left me at the door while I was to continue to the line of children to get food. I was behind the quiet boy that was next to my left. I was told to grab a tray and to make sure that I ate up. When I was given the food it was just rice and beans with two tortilla's. The people serving it was also children but they were the older ones roughly 16-18 years of age. When I was out of line I followed the boy looking out for a little red headed boy,     "¿Puedo sentarme contigo?" I asked if I could sit with him. I will never forget how he responded with half a smile and a chuckle as he said,     "Relax chica, I'm not from mexico either I am just mexican born in america." I nod and waited for him to tell me a yes or no I was getting antsy wishing he would answer so I could eat finally. When he looked up with a confused look. "Aren't you going to sit down? We don't get much time to eat." I ended with a 'oh' face and quickly sat down scoping the room again but came up empty again.     "I... I'm Sara." I said in a small voice after talking a bit of food. He nodded putting a spoonful of rice in his mouth,     "I remember, I'm Richard." I looked up and smiled a little,     "It's nice to meet you." He was going to say something but then a tray hit the table indicating that Vicente and Cataleya were here as well, Cataleya sat next to me on my left and Vicente across from her next to Richard.         "So finally speaking great name, age and where from."         "Richard, 15, California, America."     "How'd you get swept into all this compadre?" Vicenta asked next.

        "Deportation." He said around more food.

        "Y tu?" He looked at me as did they all. I swallowed the food I was eat and answered,     "There was no other choice." I took another bite of my food as they waited for more but I never gave it to them even to this day.         "How old are you Sara?" Vicente asked,         "14 almost, 15." I said looking around the room again to see if he was walking in or in line. "Have you seen a little red headed boy at all asked them?" Cataleya didn't answer and Vicente shook his head as did Richard. I sighed wanting to cry but pushed it down with a rip of a tortilla and shoved the piece in my mouth.

        "Terrible things are happening here isn't there?" I finally asked. They all nodded. "What are they doing to all those kids they took?" They didn't want to answer or more like they couldn't. I looked at them closely and for the first time I noticed the scars and scratches on their arms, chest line and the side of their necks.

        "If anyone hears about my brother even if he is... gone I would like to know." I say finishing my food. They all nod. We made small talk as they finished their food I learned about them before they got here but Richard didn't say much. When it was time to go back to our "areas" We were taken by tables I didn't see the guard that brought me here but I hope I get to see him and he has information about Sammy. We got locked in and after the rest of the kids were put away the lights went out. It was cold that night but there was a blanket was folded in the back left corner. I wrapped it around my body and leaned against the back wall.     I woke up to shouting than a girl's face appeared at the front of my cage. I jumped back she was breathing heavily, her eyes wide and hair crazy there was something about her skin that was off. She was about to say something but there was footsteps coming closer in a fast pace. Her eyes her face showed pure horror. Within seconds she was gone.     "Sara... Sara..." I hear Richard say my name. I got close to the bars.     "What?"     "What's going on?" He asked obviously woken up from the feet and not the screams like I was.     "A girl was escaping." I whispered.     "Really!" He whisper back moving closer to the bars so I could see him better. I nodded.     "Do you think she'll make it?" He shrugged.     "Sleep we don't know how tomorrow will be." I nod and leaned against the corner closer to him and he did the same.

    "Sara, despertarse." A guard was a my cage knocking on my cage loudly waking me up. I sat up and looked at the man who was my escort yesterday. He opened the door and told me to start walking. I stood up and walked out the cage and to the left. We walked down the hallway then turn left again after entering through some doors walking down the same hall from the day before but this time we passed the eating area. We reached a open door and the man shoved me in. Inside there was a table with straps and a counter with lot of different bottles and tools, the walls a pale old white and bright lights over head. The whole room gave me a shiver down my spin I took a step back right into the man who pushed me forward causing me to fall. I hear a voice behind me, a woman's voice telling him that was enough. I felt her hand gently wrap around my arm she helped me get up. She told me sorry for his roughness. Than ushered me to the table.

        "Just lay back and relax Sara it won't hurt, I promise." She hushed in a sweet voice but the look in her eyes said whole another story.       The pain was behind anything I have ever experienced. To this day I can still feel it the shocking, the needles, the knives. I screamed so loud I knew it could be heard from a mile away. The sick part was that they didn't stop they just stuck something in my mouth and continued to cut my arms, legs, stomach and back for god knows what. The pain lasted for eternity it seemed after a while I just stopped screaming but the tears never faded. Later that night I was sent back to my cage in a new shirt and jeans. I don't remember how I got back to the cage or how I was cleaned of all blood but the next morning I was clean.     "Sara... Sara." Cataleya whispered my name that morning I was already up but I wasn't in a talking mood. I was sat at the back of the cage my knees to my chest tear stained my cheeks and the bandages that covered everything else. "Sara, you'll be okay they won't do it again for another week or two." That didn't comfort me at all. My eyes widened as I look at her. Realizing what she said didn't ease my fear she said.     "It doesn't hurt that much after awhile and soon they will dial it down." I bared my head in my arms and cried again silently.     Cataleya was right they didn't come to my cage again that week unless it was for dinner time which was the only time we could eat but even than I couldn't really do. The only reason I did eat was because the man that escorted me every night told me they kill those that were unhealthy and I didn't want to die; I couldn't not until I found Sammy. He was the only reason I why I fought to survive.     "Does it really get better?" I asked them one night at dinner they didn't say anything they at first but Cataleya reassured me it does, but Richard shook his head and to be honest I believe him. The next time they took me to the white room I screamed and fought back but that just made them angry to the point where they had sedated me. I woke up to them shooting something in my back shoulders with a needle whatever was in the vial hurt so much as it went into my skin. I screamed and started to thrash around in pain but they had strapped me down. By the time I was back in my cage that night I couldn't move if I did it would just be pain, excruciating pain along my shoulders and back I wasn't even able to walk for three maybe four days I couldn't tell there were no windows and I wasn't able to go eat so it was brought to me. The day I showed signs I could move around again I was forced to go to dinner with everyone else which wasn't so bad since Cataleya and them did their best to comfort me I asked them what happens to them when they go back but they didn't want to talk about it and I understood why I could see it in their eye's the pain and horror that I feel. I think a month passed since I arrived and I was in the room twice. Cataleya went back three times she would always come back with silent tears as did the other two but it was like it never happened the next day.


I tried to go back and forth between 2 timelines, so sorry if it's a little confusing “Earth to Sara. Hello?” “Hmm?” I snapped back out of my thoughts. “So, what do you say?” “What?” “I said, what do you think about going sledding tomorrow?” 3 years. Maybe it was time to go back. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll be there.” I say, trying to show my indifference, though inside I was waging a war with myself, yelling at myself for agreeing to go.

“Ok.“ I sunk back into my thoughts as my friends went back to talking about whatever crazy thing happened over the weekend. The rest of the day went by in a blur, as I was sinking in my thoughts. After school, I met up with Cerise, my sister, to walk back home. I talked about my day and the thought of going sledding again. “Why not?” Cerise said. “We haven’t gone in a long time.” I smiled sadly. “You know why.” I whispered under my breath.

When I got home, my mom was there waiting for me on the kitchen table. With her dark brown hair and almost black eyes, we could have been sisters. I put my bag down and started to go upstairs before my mom asked, “What have you been doing? You haven’t been getting in trouble, now have you.” She wagged her finger at me and I smiled. Some things never change.

**0** Cerise and I run inside, our cheeks flushed red and our faces wide with smiles.

“What have you been doing? You haven’t been getting into trouble, now have you.” Our mom said, waiting at the kitchen table, wagging her finger at us.

“Sledding.” We say in unison, and burst into laughter afterwards.

 **0** The next day I’m standing in front of my mirror, wearing snow pants and a T-shirt, unable to decide whether to go or not.

“Should I go, Cerise?” “Why not? You haven’t gone in so long. Let’s go back and play, it’ll be fun. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” My sister sat at the end of my bed, dangling her feet over the edge. I took a deep breath.

“Ok.”

Now, standing at the top of the hill, I definitely regretted saying yes. I couldn’t do anything as a flood of painful memories went through my mind. Staring at the mountains, the ones I knew so well from years before, I shivered, though not from the cold. I heard someone say to their friends, “Ready?” **0** “Ready?” “I was born ready.” I stood at the top of the hill, my eyes fixed on the end. Cerise stood next to me, in her bright snow gear and dark goggles. She smirked under her ski mask. “Go.” We sled down the hill at harrowing speeds, the wind whipping our hair in a frenzy. I smiled knowingly under my mask, then shoved my sled left, into a shortcut I knew well, leaving Cerise behind. Now I stood at the bottom of the hill, shivering but grinning wide. “Cerise!” I called. “Are you that slow or are you that sore of a loser? Either way, I can’t wait here all night!” No reply. As the minutes ticked by, my smile slowly dropped a little more. Suddenly, a loud rumble tumbled from the hill above me. I scrambled backwards. I knew what that sound meant. Avalanche. They rarely happened but up here, out in the woods, you don’t know what could happen. As I ran back to the cabin, I remembered. Cerise was still up there. I turned and sprinted back towards the hill I was going at before, but a hand grabbed my shoulder. “Miss, we have to go.” A man in a bright orange vest and goggles stood behind me.

“My sister is still up there!” I cried, desperate to find Cerise “Miss, we’ll find her, you have to go back to your cabin.” “I-I can’t, my sister...” I started to break down in sobs “We’ll find her. Now, go,” The man said with determination in his eyes. I reluctantly walked back to my cabin, my tears freezing on my face as they fell. I turned back to thank the man, but he was already walking up the hill, and soon he disappeared in the storm of snow that followed. I ran faster to my cabin, and anxiously waited for him to come back with my sister. And waited. And waited. When they came down and broke the news, I cried for a week. Then I had no more tears left to cry. I gave up sledding, and didn’t touch a board for 3 years. U ntil now. **0** “First time sledding?” A voice asked

 “What?”

“Is it your first time sledding?” the voice asked again, but louder. And suddenly my memory jogged back. I stared in at the icy hills in front of me, feeling a pain slowly crawling into me.

“I said, is it your first time sledding?”

“Sorry, no, why’d you ask?”

“Probably because everyone knows you can’t sled without a board.” I looked at my hands and suddenly noticed I didn’t have a board.

“If you want you can borrow mine.”

I stared at the stranger for a second. She had a ski mask on and a pair of sledding goggles, which seemed a little excessive. Dark brown hair came out of her hat. Something about her felt familiar but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. “Thanks.” I took her spare board and started to look at the signs on the hills Fright mountain, Avalanche explosion, and Sloth slide. I headed toward the Sloth Slide because it seemed like the safest bet, but the girl grabbed my hand and pulled me into a bush. I looked around and saw a giant hill, wondering how I never saw it.

“Where did you find this spot?”

“ 2 years ago, you want to try it?” She grinned. “You go first.”

“Okay.” The girl hopped on the board in a surfer position and started to sled, but fell instantly. A giggle escaped my lips, despite what I had felt before.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who hasn’t been sledding in a while.” She shrugged and sat down on the board and started to sled but at the last second pulled me down with her.

“Ahhhhhhh!”

“Oh stop screaming, it’s not that bad.”

 “Hey, I never caught your name.”

“Oh, well-”

“Look out!” I screamed and we suddenly crashed into a tree. “Oww.” I started to look for the girl but couldn’t find her. When I found her ski mask and sledding goggles I started to panic. But my panicking slowed down as I saw her. “Are you okay? I found your ski mask and goggles.” The girl whipped around, and I finally caught sight of her face. Suddenly my heart stopped and a thousand questions raced into my head, but the only word I managed to choke out was “Cerise?”


“Good evening,” greeted the tubular dark figure hovering at Emily Whitticombe’s front door. “I am Constable RMR-1132813, and my supervisor on this visit is Detective Inspector Dorothy Garland of the Droid Yard.” Emily Whitticombe studied the shadowy figures intensely, before switching her porch light on to illuminate them. “What do you want?” She demanded to know from the hovering android. “We would like you to help us with our enquiries, Ma’em,” the droid replied with phonetic difficulty. “Regarding what?” The impatient householder asked. “May we come in?” “Have you a warrant?” Emily defiantly asked. “Article three, paragraph five of the RHI manual,” the droid robotically recited. “The what!?” Emily frustratingly asked. “The Rumour Has It manual . It’s our GoTo reference for all things rumoured.” “Well, aren’t you the floating acronym.” “The RHI manual states that in the suspicion of a confirmed rumour, an officer of the law may cross a threshold without prior approval from a court order, or non-compliance from the house owner . My request was merely a gesture of respect. However, non-compliance will be recorded against this address, and ultimately, you will be summoned to appear at a tribunal for non-conformists and potential agitators.” “Sorry to lean on you a bit heavy,” D.I. Garland politely stepped in. “We’ll only take a moment of your time.” “Truth damages those trying to hide it,” Emily stated. “Let it not be said that I stand in the way of the moral compass. Please come in.” Reluctantly motioning the two police officers into her house, Emily pushed a red button located on the wall that automatically closed the front door, then activated a protective force field around it, designed to repel intruders. “Too many heel locks out there that would like no more than to rob me of my possessions. The zapper gives no warning. It just vaporises them if they try to get in. No traces left,” she glibly explained to them. “I just love technology, don’t you?” Guiding the droid and Dorothy into her living room, a cacophony of female voices chatting and laughing, suddenly went silent, looking on in red-faced surprise - like someone they were gossiping about had just entered the room. “Ladies,” Emily announced. “ The Rumour Police have arrived to sniff out the false gossip of subversion.” “I’m Detective Inspector Dorothy Garland,” the Detective Inspector introduced herself. “And this is my droid, RMR-1132813.” “Christ, girls,” came the exclamation from across the room. “It’s Dorothy and the Tin Man!” Giggling at the topical joke, Emily offered a seat to Dorothy and a hospitable invitation to a recharging station for the droid, before taking her seat with the other women at the dining table. “Thank you,” the droid acknowledged. “That will not be necessary. My energy cells are of a different technology to household droids. Whereas, the voltage is universal, the cycle of Ohms can be damaging to my circuits.” “ Ohms ,” one of the other women mockingly mimicked the sound associated with meditating, prompting more giggles as she closed her eyes and pressed her thumbs and index fingers together. “And you are?” Dorothy defensively snapped back. “Why, I’m Evanora , my pretty,” the comedienne replied. “The Wicked Whistle-Blower of the East.” “Perhaps, an introduction to your friends here would save us any further jokes that I haven’t heard before,” Dorothy leadenly suggested to Emily. “I may be a proponent of the truth, but I oppose incrimination,” Emily carefully replied.  “So be it, Constable , if you will, please.” Upon request, the droid projected a holographic image of each of Emily’s guests, while reading their police file out loud. “Beryl Whitehouse,” the droid began. “Satire writer for The Big Bugger Broadcaster Show . Spent eighteen months in New Holloway Prison for the unnecessary spread of fake news regarding how banks steal our money.” “Everything I wrote was the true,” Beryl clarified. “Not according to the Rumour Mill Law Court,” the droid clarified, while skimming through Beryl’s file. “Released early for quiet behaviour. Currently on probation.” “They threatened to cut out my tongue, then gagged me in-between mealtimes. So, I did my stretch in silent protest,” Beryl disclosed. “ Quiet time , indeed. Forced silence is more like it, but it worked against them. I’m out now and ready to spread the truth on corruption at the highest of levels loudly and clear.” “Stipulations of your probation state that you are not to associate, nor be seen in the company of other rumour mill convictees for a period no longer than six months from probation termination,” the droid remarked using its own AI creative terminology. “Maybe I’m not really here,” Beryl teased. “Maybe, I’m just a holographic projection, like the one coming from your dusty lens.” Instantly, the droid fired an electrical static charge at her to test her posed hypothesis, causing Beryl to shriek in pain. “Your physical attendance has been recorded, “the droid noted, before projecting and identifying the next guest’s holographic image. “Dawn Green. Shamed columnist of the Daily Tattler.” Sitting opposite Emily, Dawn lifted her nose in a snooty gesture, and replied, “What a dull description of me.” “Also remanded in New Holloway for an abuse of defamatory articles dating back to the start of the Libel and Slander Age,” the droid continued . “ Twenty-three months for bringing into disrepute, the previously good reputation your employer had built for reporting award-winning factual commentary.” “I brought institutional lies to its knees in the last century,” Dawn’s educated accent explained. “And I would do so again to anyone trying to control the narrative.” “Your record shows that you spread your own version of fake news,” the droid revealed. “I quote, The Daily Tattler is a government funded propaganda machine intent on demoralising the general population and that they are guilty of the fearmongering that led to the Nine-Day war in Moldova .” “They have a lot of blood on their hands tucked into deep blood-filled pockets,” Dawn declared. “Yet, they still churn out their Babel Fish of lies, protected by those that control everything and everyone – including your own police bosses.” “Are you implying that our police force is corrupt?” Dorothy asked in an accusatory tone of voice. “I’m saying nothing that you don’t already know.” “Be careful, Mrs. Green,” Dorothy warned. “Statements like that could get you into more trouble.” “Yes yes, I know,” Dawn interrupted, dismissing the idle threat. “ The Rumour Police ,” she scolded. “ Hear all evil, see all evil, and speak no evil against one’s paymaster . A contradiction in the dark chasm between duty and truth.” Ignoring the insult, Dorothy took charge of reading the next guest’s file. “ Abigail Ronson . Now, you are most definitely a person of interest. The records show that you are currently awaiting trial on sedition charges.” “No comment,” Abigail’s sultry voice replied. “It says here that you planted a verbal bomb in the men’s toilet at the Houses of Parliament.” “Innocent until proven guilty,” Abigail drably added. “Looks to me like an open and shut case,” Dorothy smugly explained. “You were seen on droid video entering and exiting the facilities moments before a rush of ministers crowded in during a break in the PM’s questions and answers session.” “Deepfake,” she replied in a dismissive tone. “You can’t believe a thing you see in holograms anymore. Piss someone off and they can make your life a living AI hell. They,” she emphasised. “Can fake anything these days. Don’t you know?” “A voice bomb, huh?” Dorothy repeated while reading its description. “ An atmospheric subliminal recording best effective in close and crowded situations . Fascinating. So, who’s the someone you pissed off, then?” “Influencers.” Abigail’s one word answer struck a chord. “Interfere with their revenue stream and you become a target for vindictiveness.” “What was it that you broadcast in the toilets?” “No comment. If I told yah , I’d have to, you know.” “Kill me?” Dorothy boorishly asked. “Is that a threat?” “I meant that I would have to deny everything from out there in the No-Go Zone , and hope for a warm welcome back by the Quadrant later.” Dorothy noticed that Emily and her guests went deathly silent at the mere suggestion of escaping to the No-Go zone. As much as life in the Quadrant was rife with crime and threat, it was much safer than beyond it in the No-Go Zone where life and survival was an unknown factor. “I’m sure my droid can dig through the central database and find what you said.” Dorothy’s threat alarmed Abigail, causing her some anguish. “No, please don’t,” Abigail pleaded. “It will trigger a flag. Then, all of our lives will be in danger.” “I don’t understand. What kind of influencers have that much access to secure records?” Abigail took a deep breath, then slowly exhaling, she replied, “ Lobbyists .” “Record found,” the droid announced. “Shall I open the file?” “Lobbyists, Activists. Same thing,” Abigail explained. “For many unregulated years, they have pulled the strings of their government puppet disciples. Private enterprise with financial gain at the root of its intent, influencing major decisions at mega levels. With every recurring success the Activists enjoy, a varying number of new billionaires are born, who in turn, share their wealth up the pyramid of power and position, where two percent of the population control the remaining ninety-eight percent.” “Shall I open the file?” The droid asked again, as Abigail continued her impromptu sermon. “News, stocks, industry, and technology are all controlled by a star chamber of the elite, who can make or break those that oppose the Greedy powerhouse class of society’s real traitors. These capitalist Bourgeoisie’s main aim is to increase poverty, hunger, and crime, so the despots of greed - the Fat Cats can gorge themselves on caviar and champagne, while the poorest of the poor claw at each other for scraps of stale bread and dirty water – causing those desperately on the verge of starvation, to turn on each other in blinded rage fuelled by the narrative. Out of desperation, they eventually sell their souls to the company store’s forced labour politburo, who mete out rationed crumbs to starving mouths. Is that the free society you have sworn to protect, D.I. Garland?” “I don’t see any of you ladies starving,” Dorothy countered. “For those trapped in the middle of this class divide,” Abigail countered back. “Fortification traps us within our own struggle. We’re just trying to ride out the chaos, but that is becoming ever-increasingly challenging. That’s why the No-Go Zone is the only viable option.” “But no-one’s ever returned from there,” Dorothy pointed out. “Is that your escape plan?” Dorothy asked in reference to half-a-dozen backpacks lined up against a far wall. “You see,” Abigail ignored the question. “Without the ninety-eight percent to feed their masters, the two percent has no revenue stream. So, monitor, control, and impose on the masses , is the doctrine of the privileged – not the underprivileged. The slave masters need slaves, and the Activists willingly service that need. Do you understand?” “Awaiting instruction,” the droid impatiently added. “Shall I open the file?” “Seeking out the No-Go Zone is a crime,” Dorothy stated. “That’s why plans need to be kept secret from rumours of seditious escape,” Abigail confessed. “I presume that is what you are here to investigate?” “Indeed.” “Please,” Abigail pleaded. “Let me show you something first.” Producing a disc about the size of a cat food tin lid, Abigail placed it on the dining table. Then, with a few swipes of her hand, another holographic projection jutted up from the disc’s centre for all to view. It further displayed video and records of government-approved subversion of the masses and government manufactured gossip streams, where rumour was maliciously spread into one hundred percent of the ninety-eight. The collected evidence being displayed showed details of big business paying lobbying organisations huge amounts of money to press their contracted influence on the decision makers in government. “It is no coincidence that you in particular have been assigned to this visit,” Emily mentioned. “You have been led to this location because somebody thought Abigail Ronson would be here.” “So, a query on my records would confirm my whereabouts,” added Abigail. “Giving them full justification to arrest and prosecute me for sedition.” “Shall I open the file or not?” The impatient droid grew frustratingly agitated. “No, cancel that,” Dorothy surprisingly commanded. “Return your query to the database, then disconnect from the Cube.” “I’m sorry, Dorothy,” the droid hesitated. “It is illegal for a droid to log out of the cube’s repository.” “Switch to local knowledge base immediately. That is an order. I am invoking Article One of the Droid Management Procedures Manual that states, on threat of potential data leakage, a droid supervisor may disconnect their droid from the central server until satisfied that no risk to the Cube remains .” “But that means I will be scheduled for a full reset,” the droid nervously pointed out. “I will bear the responsibility,” Dorothy assured the droid.” A few tense moments elapsed. Not knowing what her droid would do, Dorothy contemplated flicking its reset switch. As she leaned toward the switch, her droid suddenly announced its compliance. “Migration to local server initialised and completed. May I say that it has been a privilege and an honour to work with you.” A perplexed Dorothy intriguingly watched as the droid turned and left the room, heading for the front door. “The zapper!” Emily exclaimed. “Force field off,” She yelled in a panic, while rushing after the droid. Leaping to her feet, Dorothy ordered her droid to stop. But just as she rounded the doorway to the hall, a bright flash caused her to cover her eyes. Following behind her, Emily’s guests stood silently staring at the front door before Dorothy stepped forward and physically guided the slightly singed droid back into the drawing room. “What!? What just happened?” Dorothy’s flabbergasted confusion searched for answers. “Probably, an attempted droid suicide,” Abigail answered. “Suicide?” Dorothy’s perplexed question required clarity. “Droids don’t commit suicide, do they?” “That can mean only one thing,” said Abigail. “There are rumours of droids somehow developing sentient thoughts, feelings, and emotions.” “You mean…” “Love,” Abigail stated. “But how is that possible?” “I’m not an expert, but there have been rumours about depressed droids turning up at recycle yards asking to be crushed.” “RMR,” Dorothy addressed her droid. “ Are you feeling depressed?” Several uneasy silent moments passed until the droid responded. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you not being in my every waking moment.” “My goodness, the Tin Man does have a heart, methinks,” jested Dawn. “That will make for great reading in The Tattler.” Attempting a comforting gesture, Dorothy patted the droid’s outer casing. “Then, we won’t schedule your reset,” she promised. “Not possible,” replied the droid. “To remain active in the Quadrant’s Cube, full reset will be required.” “You don’t have to remain in the Quadrant or the Cube to exist,” Abigail suggested. “What alternative is there…?” Dorothy’s trailing question was overridden by Abigail’s cold facts. “Like it or not, Darling, you’re now a part of the resistance.” “Resistance? I’m an upholder of the law,” Dorothy half-heartedly emphasised, realising life for her had suddenly and irrevocably changed in the blink of a droid’s’ eye. “ They ,” Abigail pointed out while waving her hand at a distant, unseen entity. “They know you disconnected. They , will see your act as anti-establishment. They , will want a scapegoat. Manufactured rumour and gossip is their social currency and you are now money in the bank to them. Someone of their own to punish as an example to the ninety-eight percent, that rumours corrupt. What better a way to silence seditious thought, than show no matter what level of the system you connect to, you are always subject to the law of the land. What is more concerning to me more than anything at this moment, is They know exactly where you are, and to whom you converse with. “Ladies,” Emily commanded. “We have been compromised, so an immediate evacuation to the tunnels is imminently required. Please pack up all necessary supplies and head directly to the cellar.” Swiftly gathering clothes, food, and water into the strategically readied backpacks, the group went busily about their responsibilities, while a voice command from Emily opened up a previously concealed panel in the drawing room’s bookcase. “This is all happening very fast,” Dorothy hesitated – hoping to preserve a little time to process everything. “Analyse it later, when you’re safe in the No-Go Zone,” Beryl hurriedly prompted Dorothy to move. “You and the Tin Man ain’t in Kansas anymore, so get going!” Dorothy hesitated while listening to the approaching sirens signalling time was running out to explore her options. Sensing her uncertainty, her droid nudged her in the direction of the hidden passageway to the cellar. “If it means we will be together,” her droid urged. “Then, it is the logical choice, and I will support your decision.” Waiting at the bookcase, Emily encouraged Dorothy to act quickly. “I can’t promise you that life in the No-Go Zone will be easy. Nor will it be any place like home. However, it is our own yellow brick road of discovery, so what do you say, stay and die, or follow me and live?” Extending a beckoning hand, Emily’s concerned expression morphed into a pleasing and satisfied look as Dorothy nodded to her droid. “What say we click our heels together, RMR? Shall we live to fight another day?” Passing through the bookcase portal, Dorothy and Droid descended the stairs to the cellar. “Force field on. Lock cellar door,” Emily’s voice issued its irreversible commands, just before a bright flash from the hallway filled the drawing room with the brightest of lights. “Force field,” Emily shouted out. “For good or bad, I just love technology, don’t you?” “Rumour has it, you do,” RMR playfully replied. As Emily guided them toward the tunnels, she patted RMR’s metal body and said, “Let’s not tell anyone, okay? It’s just loose gossip, after all…”