- Published on
For immediate release.
Elkhart, Indiana
7/28/2020
Arcbeatle Press and BBV Productions Announce Cyberon Adaptation
In partnership with BBV Productions, Arcbeatle Press is pleased to announce Cyberon, the first novelization of a BBV property. Expanding upon the original 2001 film of the same name directed by Bill Baggs, the book is written by P.RO.B.E. range editor James Hornby and adapted from the script by Lance Parkin, Cyberon is due for release Autumn 2020.
The book, like the film, sees psychologist Lauren Anderson become witness to a disturbing drug trial on several mental patients and sufferers of dementia, in an effort to reconstitute their failing health. As she begins to uncover dark secrets, and the drug known as Cyberon starts showing hallucinogenic effects on nearly all the patients, will Lauren make it out of this horrific experiment alive?
Cyberon will be the first print release by Arcbeatle Press in their partnership with BBV Productions, soon to be followed by the previously announced P.R.O.B.E: Out of the Shadows. Look for more announcements soon.
The cover for Cyberon is by Callum Brown and Warren Lewis, with the Cyberon design is by James Lee, based on the original design by Terry Cooper
Elkhart, Indiana
7/28/2020
Arcbeatle Press and BBV Productions Announce Cyberon Adaptation
In partnership with BBV Productions, Arcbeatle Press is pleased to announce Cyberon, the first novelization of a BBV property. Expanding upon the original 2001 film of the same name directed by Bill Baggs, the book is written by P.RO.B.E. range editor James Hornby and adapted from the script by Lance Parkin, Cyberon is due for release Autumn 2020.
The book, like the film, sees psychologist Lauren Anderson become witness to a disturbing drug trial on several mental patients and sufferers of dementia, in an effort to reconstitute their failing health. As she begins to uncover dark secrets, and the drug known as Cyberon starts showing hallucinogenic effects on nearly all the patients, will Lauren make it out of this horrific experiment alive?
Cyberon will be the first print release by Arcbeatle Press in their partnership with BBV Productions, soon to be followed by the previously announced P.R.O.B.E: Out of the Shadows. Look for more announcements soon.
The cover for Cyberon is by Callum Brown and Warren Lewis, with the Cyberon design is by James Lee, based on the original design by Terry Cooper
You can learn more about our Cyberon adaptation in two new interviews with author James Hornby, and the film’s director Bill Baggs:
Interview with Cyberon director Bill Baggs
Interview with Author James Hornby
Cover design by Callum and Stuart Brown. Cover art by Warren Lewis. Cyberons © BBV, used under license.
Interview with Cyberon director Bill Baggs
Interview with Author James Hornby
Cover design by Callum and Stuart Brown. Cover art by Warren Lewis. Cyberons © BBV, used under license.
- Published on
Arcbeatle Press Lead Supervisor Hunter O'Connell spoke with our very own James Hornby, the Range Editor of our P.R.O.B.E series, about his upcoming novelization of the BBV film Cyberon! Look for it this fall.
Q: What can the audience expect to see in terms of changes, or additions, to the original plot of Cyberon?
A: I think with a project like this it's important to be respectful to the person who wrote the original material. Lance's script is something truly special, and I intend to keep it as intact as possible. As you might expect, there were a few sections of the script that needed slight alteration in order to make the transition to prose. That being said, the prose format has allowed me to delve into the character's heads, to reveal how they react to the troubles posed to them by the plot. With a psychological thriller like Cyberon, I think that's really important.
I think the main change is that, unlike the original film, this release of Cyberon will act as a companion to the upcoming P.R.O.B.E. series.
In terms of additions, I've gone for the "Shakedown" approach to how the book will be structured: the original story will be the middle section of a three act tale. Act one will explore the story of how the Cyberon drug came to arrive on Earth, and the final act will pick up the loose plot threads from the end of the drama, bringing in familiar characters from the P.R.O.B.E. series.
Q: What’s your favorite scene in the BBV film, and how do you plan on expanding it?
A: My favourite scene is where George Cooper, a resident at the hospital where Lauren works, wakes up in the middle of the night, to be confronted by the spectral form of a Cyberon. In the original film, the scene is a wonderful work of horror, but in the novelization, we'll get to see what happens from George's perspective.
Q: Could you list off a few reasons for others to check out the Cyberon novelization?
A: The story gets into some really important issues around mental health that still affect our lives today, it contains a strong, character-driven plot and, of course, Cyberons!
Q: What other Doctor Who connections do you have planned for the book that weren’t in the original film, besides the obvious?
A: The original Cyberon film stands very much alone in terms of the world in which it is set. These characters have grown up in the Doctor Who world, so some of the things they say will reflect that. For example, with the kind permission of Iain McLaughlin, the TV show Doctor X from the Erimem series will receive a mention. Eagle-eyed readers will also spot links to P.R.O.B.E. and Cwej: The Series.
Q: What can you tell us about the P.R.O.B.E. series? Are there any details you can reveal to the audience?
A: I'm very excited to bring the P.R.O.B.E. series to people's attention. After so many years away from the public eye, we'll finally get a chance to see what P.R.O.B.E. has been up to, and the challenges the organisation faces in the modern world. Readers can expect to see a whole host of aliens and monsters, both original and new; characters and concepts from the Virgin New Adventures, the Past Doctor Adventures, and the Erimem series will all appear in our stories. For now that's all I can say on the matter, but in time all will be revealed...
A: I think with a project like this it's important to be respectful to the person who wrote the original material. Lance's script is something truly special, and I intend to keep it as intact as possible. As you might expect, there were a few sections of the script that needed slight alteration in order to make the transition to prose. That being said, the prose format has allowed me to delve into the character's heads, to reveal how they react to the troubles posed to them by the plot. With a psychological thriller like Cyberon, I think that's really important.
I think the main change is that, unlike the original film, this release of Cyberon will act as a companion to the upcoming P.R.O.B.E. series.
In terms of additions, I've gone for the "Shakedown" approach to how the book will be structured: the original story will be the middle section of a three act tale. Act one will explore the story of how the Cyberon drug came to arrive on Earth, and the final act will pick up the loose plot threads from the end of the drama, bringing in familiar characters from the P.R.O.B.E. series.
Q: What’s your favorite scene in the BBV film, and how do you plan on expanding it?
A: My favourite scene is where George Cooper, a resident at the hospital where Lauren works, wakes up in the middle of the night, to be confronted by the spectral form of a Cyberon. In the original film, the scene is a wonderful work of horror, but in the novelization, we'll get to see what happens from George's perspective.
Q: Could you list off a few reasons for others to check out the Cyberon novelization?
A: The story gets into some really important issues around mental health that still affect our lives today, it contains a strong, character-driven plot and, of course, Cyberons!
Q: What other Doctor Who connections do you have planned for the book that weren’t in the original film, besides the obvious?
A: The original Cyberon film stands very much alone in terms of the world in which it is set. These characters have grown up in the Doctor Who world, so some of the things they say will reflect that. For example, with the kind permission of Iain McLaughlin, the TV show Doctor X from the Erimem series will receive a mention. Eagle-eyed readers will also spot links to P.R.O.B.E. and Cwej: The Series.
Q: What can you tell us about the P.R.O.B.E. series? Are there any details you can reveal to the audience?
A: I'm very excited to bring the P.R.O.B.E. series to people's attention. After so many years away from the public eye, we'll finally get a chance to see what P.R.O.B.E. has been up to, and the challenges the organisation faces in the modern world. Readers can expect to see a whole host of aliens and monsters, both original and new; characters and concepts from the Virgin New Adventures, the Past Doctor Adventures, and the Erimem series will all appear in our stories. For now that's all I can say on the matter, but in time all will be revealed...
- Published on
Arcbeatle Press Lead Supervisor Hunter O'Connell spoke with BBC Productions' Bill Baggs, the director of the BBV film Cyberon, about the film and our upcoming novelization! Look for it this fall.
Q: What was it like, working on the original BBV film? Can you bring up some seldom-mentioned details about production?
A: It was great fun, I look at the experience with great admiration. I asked so many people from Doctor Who and was amazed they said yes to be in the films. Whenever we were filming we would also take time planning locations, casting, budgeting, writing the script and shooting. So it was all very very exciting.
Q: For those unsure about where to start with the BBV video and audio dramas, what would you say is the most accessible for newcomers to the company?
A: Well that’s a very interesting question. Interestingly I think Cyberon is possibly the most accessible in the sense that you don’t need any relationship to Doctor Who to understand it. However, if you have a relationship with Doctor Who you’ll get even more from it. I think it’s just a very straightforward romantic thriller.
Q: What are you most excited to see in the newly-expanded Cyberon novelization?
A: I think I like the idea that it’s kind of related to the show but it’s also got its own world. I think the character of Lauren could be expanded, and the themes, such as the adult and psychological, could be seen more. I think its psychological aspect is wonderful.
Q: How does it make you feel, knowing that BBV Productions is still looked at fondly by Doctor Who Extended Universe fans across the world?
A: It’s fantastic, it amazes me somewhat that, there’s me piggybacking on my favorite show and creating something, and that is now a springboard for other people. I had an artist in the North of England Facebook me the other day, and he’s done an amazing interpretation of Cyberon and the other shows I’ve done. He was telling me how much pleasure he got from my shows, and it was very humbling and incredible.
Q: Are there any plans for future BBV dramas or partnerships that you can go into detail about? What can the fans expect from the company in the next few years?
A: It’s a bit of a departure from the world of Doctor Who. I’m working on something a bit independent, and I suppose it’s kind of like Cyberon, being its own thing. I am working on something that is related, but I won’t talk too much about it. Just know to expect something in the next few years.
A: It was great fun, I look at the experience with great admiration. I asked so many people from Doctor Who and was amazed they said yes to be in the films. Whenever we were filming we would also take time planning locations, casting, budgeting, writing the script and shooting. So it was all very very exciting.
Q: For those unsure about where to start with the BBV video and audio dramas, what would you say is the most accessible for newcomers to the company?
A: Well that’s a very interesting question. Interestingly I think Cyberon is possibly the most accessible in the sense that you don’t need any relationship to Doctor Who to understand it. However, if you have a relationship with Doctor Who you’ll get even more from it. I think it’s just a very straightforward romantic thriller.
Q: What are you most excited to see in the newly-expanded Cyberon novelization?
A: I think I like the idea that it’s kind of related to the show but it’s also got its own world. I think the character of Lauren could be expanded, and the themes, such as the adult and psychological, could be seen more. I think its psychological aspect is wonderful.
Q: How does it make you feel, knowing that BBV Productions is still looked at fondly by Doctor Who Extended Universe fans across the world?
A: It’s fantastic, it amazes me somewhat that, there’s me piggybacking on my favorite show and creating something, and that is now a springboard for other people. I had an artist in the North of England Facebook me the other day, and he’s done an amazing interpretation of Cyberon and the other shows I’ve done. He was telling me how much pleasure he got from my shows, and it was very humbling and incredible.
Q: Are there any plans for future BBV dramas or partnerships that you can go into detail about? What can the fans expect from the company in the next few years?
A: It’s a bit of a departure from the world of Doctor Who. I’m working on something a bit independent, and I suppose it’s kind of like Cyberon, being its own thing. I am working on something that is related, but I won’t talk too much about it. Just know to expect something in the next few years.
- Published on
Five heroines, forgotten by their own stories, seek to gain the one thing they want most in life: attention!
After realizing she was just a draft of another character, a mysterious traveler called the Tourist escapes from her prototype world, and brings a group of other women together who all haven't gotten the recognition they deserve. Together, these five will cause havoc, enter a battle of the bands, fight devious invaders from another universe, and get trapped in a convivence store! Adventure awaits, or something resembling it, and they will not be forgotten again.
Featuring stories by James Hornby, Sean Dillon, Alex Wakeford, Aristide Twain, and James Wylder with art by Bri Crozier. Available now!
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08D92YTPK
After realizing she was just a draft of another character, a mysterious traveler called the Tourist escapes from her prototype world, and brings a group of other women together who all haven't gotten the recognition they deserve. Together, these five will cause havoc, enter a battle of the bands, fight devious invaders from another universe, and get trapped in a convivence store! Adventure awaits, or something resembling it, and they will not be forgotten again.
Featuring stories by James Hornby, Sean Dillon, Alex Wakeford, Aristide Twain, and James Wylder with art by Bri Crozier. Available now!
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08D92YTPK
- Published on
Today is the 5th Anniversary of 10,000 Dawns. All those years ago, with the help of the Southgate Media Group, I launched a story near and dear to my heart about a girl named Graelyn who ran away from everything, even her own fate. That readers cared about the story as much as did was a surprise, and getting to tell more stories with these characters has been a real pleasure and honor...and brought me countless opportunities, including getting to work on WARS, and assist with publishing Cwej and P.R.O.B.E.
I've been touched meeting many of you on the con circuit, or getting messages from you, about how much parts of the story meant to you. Whether it was the LGBT+ representation in the tale that meant something to you, or Graelyn or Arch's struggles with their own trauma and mental health...or anything else that touched you, I'm truly truly honored this story could mean so much to you. Thank you.
This anniversary is dedicated to you, dear reader. Whoever you are. Thank you for making 10,000 Dawns wonderful. Wherever you are, please take care of yourself, and give yourself the compassion you deserve (which is a lot). I hope you'll stick around for the next five years.
-James Wylder
I've been touched meeting many of you on the con circuit, or getting messages from you, about how much parts of the story meant to you. Whether it was the LGBT+ representation in the tale that meant something to you, or Graelyn or Arch's struggles with their own trauma and mental health...or anything else that touched you, I'm truly truly honored this story could mean so much to you. Thank you.
This anniversary is dedicated to you, dear reader. Whoever you are. Thank you for making 10,000 Dawns wonderful. Wherever you are, please take care of yourself, and give yourself the compassion you deserve (which is a lot). I hope you'll stick around for the next five years.
-James Wylder
Birthdays are Made for Memories
by James Wylder
Graelyn hung the string of lights up and stood back to admire her handiwork.
"Wow," Graelyn said, "it looks like shit."
Arch sighed, "It's not too bad, it's certainly the best possible look under the circumstances."
He was right, not that she wanted to admit it right now, as she avoided scratching her face. This was the worst place she could have gotten dropped on a mission, only to get involved in a wild chase that resulted in her satchel of the crystal dust that allowed her to travel between alternate realities dropping into a precipice. And then, of course, it had turned out there was a plague here, and even after they got in touch with Spiral, they had to quarantine themselves.
"You know, I'd had bigger plans for my birthday this year," Graelyn said.
"You don't even know how old you are, I mean, didn't you get turned into a baby that one time and have to redo your entire--"
"Hush. I'm serious."
She flopped down on the couch in the house they'd rented, and groaned. "Look, I've never had a good birthday. Something bad always happens, so this year I decided I was going to make it a good birthday no matter what. No unexpected breakups, or familial abuse, or gaslighting or--"
"--I feel like this is a very low bar--"
"And...just spend it with all the friends I've made."
Arch nodded, he could get that, as much as he really could. Neither of them had particularly minded being quarantined, they had both spent a long time alone in their lives. But looking at Graelyn staring up at the ceiling, he began to realize exactly how not-alone they'd both become.
It hadn't been so long ago that Archimedes was alone on Ahnerabe Station, thinking he'd spend the rest of his life alone and adrift. It wasn't so long ago for her that Graelyn had pushed the whole world away because of her hellish upbringing, and had given certainty to a life of solitude.
Even being quarantined together with his friend was twice as much human contact per day than he'd expected out of his life.
So Arch put his processors and brain cells to work, and began to formulate a plan.
* * *
Let's look outside the building, shall we? Whole world, big plague, you know the deal. The streets are empty, aside from one figure hiding behind a tree. They peer at the rented house, and begin to sneak towards it. Over their shoulder is a bag: Graelyn's bag.
* * *
Arch of course, heard the door unlock. He had exceptional hearing, being that it was literally just high end microphones and vibration sensors. So when the person tried to sneak in, the attempt was thwarted fairly quickly, as they got halfway into the kitchen to find Arch sliding in behind them to block their exit, and Graelyn, with Face-mask, standing in front of them with her hands on her hips.
"Did you really think you were breaking into my house? On my birthday?"
"It's not actually our house, it is a rental," Arch said.
"Not the most important detail I think. Now who are you?"
The man reached for his own face-mask, and Graelyn and Arch both threw up their hands, "No no no!"
"You can keep that on, we don't need to see your face."
The man still pulled his mask down, and Graelyn and Arch threw their hands up in disgust, "Really?" Graelyn said, "What was the point of that, I can hear you just fine through the mask."
The man's face went red, "Don't you know who I am?"
Graelyn shook her head.
"I'm the one who should have had your adventures! You thieving girl."
"...What?" Graelyn said, blankly.
"I'm Elliott Jo Jordan. I was the top candidate for Project Atlantis' intern position, but you somehow got it instead! I should have been the one travelling between alternate realities--"
"Uh, hate to bring this up but to be here you had to have literally travelled between alternate realities..." Arch noted.
He spun around to point a finger at Arch. "I'm not finished! I had to make a deal with that group Dusk in order to find you, and destroy you for what you did."
"I thought we defeated Dusk?" Arch said.
"They are Time Travelers. That does make it messy."
"But I thought we prevented them from ever existing?"
"But if you time traveled before you never existed you still exist."
"Ah, right. Forgot."
"You have a hard drive in your brain, how do you forg--"
"STOP TALKING LIKE I'M NOT HERE!" he yelled, "I DEMAND TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY!"
Graelyn laughed, "No thank you. Anyway, let me have my bag back."
He grinned, "Never. I finally have the upper hand on you, Graelyn Scythes. I have the power here, the leverage. The only way off this rock. Now you're going to--hey!"
While he was yammering, Arch hand simply pulled the bag out of his hand. He proceeded to block the thief by placing his hand on the top of his head as he flailed and tried to move forward.
"Right, let's get back to my birthday then, finish this up?"
Arch nodded, "Yeah, honestly I was expecting more of a threat today, I don't know why."
She shrugged, "I won't complain."
The theif promptly found himself out the door, which was slammed and locked behind him, and a chair put under the doorknob on the other side. Grumpily, he wandered off into the night.
"They'll take me seriously..." he muttered as she stepped into a puddle, and sighed.
* * *
"Well now that that's done," Arch said, holding up a tablet in front of Graelyn who was sipping a glass of milk on the couch, "I have a special present for you!" While the lag is too bad for video calls here, I asked some of our friends to send you messages!"
Graelyn tilted her head, "Really? Why?"
"...Because it's your birthday and we care about you."
She looked down at her hands, "I guess that makes sense. I don't expect you got many."
He shook his head, "I got...a lot. So why don't we start." He flopped down next to her on the couch, and each of them holding a side of the tablet, hit play.
Loading.
Loading.
Video Message 1
"Hey Graelyn! This is Lady Aesculapius!" Lady Aesculapius says, wearing a T-Shirt that said, "I'm Lady Aesculapius" on it. "I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, and I promise my friend Virginia Stens-6 will make you cupcakes when you get out of there--oh Blanche, Jason can you say hi."
A young woman who looked just like Graelyn, only with white hair, came into frame, "Hi. Sorry again about trying to murder you a few times."
A man wearing a t-shirt that said "I'm the ACE up your sleeve!" popped in from the other side of the frame, "Hey Graelyn! You might not remember me much, but happy birthday nonetheless!"
"Alright, that's all from us, your most successful spin off! Now go have fun!"
"Hey Graelyn, President Zhang Han here, wishing you a happy birthday from the presidency of Mars. My wife isn't here right now but my daughter Odyssia is. Odyssia look at the camera. Look!" she pointed at the Camera, and Odyssia barely glanced at it from her perch on her mother's lap and then returned to staring at something out of frame. "Oh well. Anyway, I've arranged for a special gift for you to be placed at the following coordinates-" a series of numbers flashed up on screen. "Many happy returns."
Graelyn didn't learn this till later, but the gift was of course a basket of popular exports and products from the planet Mars, including four different varieties of olives.
"Happy birthday from Fleet Admiral Cornelia Carthage," the admiral said, sitting rigidly at her desk. A voice off camera asked: "...is that it?"
"Yes."
"Graelyn! Do you remember me? It's Alice MacLeod. Oh, wait sorry you've probably met dozens of me now. Specifically the first one, you know Songbird? I really hope you have a lovely birthday, and everyone else does too. Jack, Treyvon, Yi, Chantelle, and Shona. Though Shona went on a trip, I'm a little worried about her...regardless, even though we've been apart you're still one of my closest and dearest friends. I hope you visit soon. All the love from the World Revolutionary Council."
"Is this on?" Shona asked.
"It's on," The Tourist replied.
"Great! Hey Grae, it's me, Shona! Also your ex-girlfriend Ashlyn is here--"
"I TOLD YOU TO NOT MENTION THAT!" Ashlyn yelled.
"I thought you said you're on good terms?"
"That doesn't mean...oh whatever," Ashlyn popped into frame next to Shona, "Hi, Happy Birthday Graelyn. I hope you and that Archimedes fellow I've heard about are having a good time. Are you two together now?"
"ASHLYN!" Shona shoved her out of frame. "So yeah, me, the Tourist, Ashlyn, Pathway, and Miranda--not your Miranda a prototype one--all wish you the happiest day! Eat cake!"
Graelyn and Arch awkwardly didn't look at each other for 87 seconds, and then Graelyn played the next video.
A Graelyn appears, not our Graelyn, but well, it's a Graelyn, "Hey me! So, things have been really great with this version of our family here...I actually just became president of the physics club. Can you believe that? I've made a lot of friends here...and well...happy birthday. You deserve it. Cheers!"
A really gross man appears. This is more of an objective description than you'd think, because his skin has been ripped off his face. Auteur grins up at the camera, "Bonjour, my daughter. Are you well? Are you eating? Have you been eaten? I'm sorry I couldn't make whatever you invited me to which was," he looks down at a paper, "this video message. But I will be sure that I make you a video message next time to make up for it."
He stops to take a sip from a glass of something that it's hard to tell is blood or wine. Trick question-it's 50/50.
"Ah yes, the formalities: Happy Birthday my dear child. I tried making you a birthday present, by asking Dracula if he would meet you, but I was informed by Father and Mother that I was simply talking in my sleep. The nerve! The audacity! I'll make it happen though, I'll write you a tale that you'll never forget my child, you'll struggle and bleed and--"
The video kindly cuts out.
"Hey Grae, it's your former lawyer Jame Morrel. I hope you have a great one. And if you need more legal services just contact me at--"
Graelyn skipped ahead to the next one.
A woman appears, holding a mimosa. She is sitting on a golden throne, waited on by a man and woman in stereotypical butler and maid outfits. The throned woman is wearing an elegant black dress, and sunglasses. Indoors.
"Hello dear, this is Ariadne Moore, or as you're more familiar with me, Chess Mistress Hex--what no I'm tired of the caviar, get me something else--regardless I hear it's your birthday." There is a long pause. "So I hope that goes well for you or whatever."
"Wow," Arch said as the video ended.
"She really does care," Graelyn said.
There is a huge group-shot--we see tons of familiar faces: it's all of Dawn, standing under the swirling clouds of Spiral. A T-Rex dozes peacefully in the background. In the front is Kinan Jans, dressed as Sesshomaru from Inu Yasha.
"Hello Graelyn," Kinan Jans says in her monotone with a wave, "I hope you know how much you have meant to all of us her, and to me in particular. I know this is a message from your workplace so I'll try not to get too smarmy or whatever. But I wanted to dress up as my favorite memory together, when we went trick-or-treating in Nightmoore. Anyway, from all of us here at Dawn..."
The group shouts at the camera, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" which wakes the T-Rex up, and it roars, startling everyone as the camera cuts off.
Graelyn looked over at Arch, "Thank you. You didn't have to do that."
He shrugged, "I kinda did. You're my best friend."
"Right back atcha--wait whats that?"
Arch looked at the tablet, "Ah, we're getting a new file. Looks like a late entry?" He pressed play.
Kinan Jans and Backgammon Jenny appear. Jenny is popping gum, and sitting on the edge of Kinan's desk. Kinan is back to her usual outfit, fingers steepled.
"Arch informed us that you caught the culprit behind your stranding. It's good to know you'll be able to head back on your own power upon the completion of your quarantine. However..."
Jenny laughed, "They're going to hate this."
"Well as I said, I'm glad you caught the culprit," Kinan droned, "but you do know that now that you had contact with someone there we have to start your quarantine clock over."
Graelyn stared unblinking, "Cool," she said, "super cool. I figured my Birthday was going too well."
Arch put a hand on her shoulder, it was very big compared to her shoulder. "I'll make you something. Your birthday, whatever you like. I've been getting pretty decent at cooking despite, you know, eating mush."
Graelyn smiled, "Let's do it together. It may not be what we expected, but we'll make the best of it. Happy birthday to me."
"Wow," Graelyn said, "it looks like shit."
Arch sighed, "It's not too bad, it's certainly the best possible look under the circumstances."
He was right, not that she wanted to admit it right now, as she avoided scratching her face. This was the worst place she could have gotten dropped on a mission, only to get involved in a wild chase that resulted in her satchel of the crystal dust that allowed her to travel between alternate realities dropping into a precipice. And then, of course, it had turned out there was a plague here, and even after they got in touch with Spiral, they had to quarantine themselves.
"You know, I'd had bigger plans for my birthday this year," Graelyn said.
"You don't even know how old you are, I mean, didn't you get turned into a baby that one time and have to redo your entire--"
"Hush. I'm serious."
She flopped down on the couch in the house they'd rented, and groaned. "Look, I've never had a good birthday. Something bad always happens, so this year I decided I was going to make it a good birthday no matter what. No unexpected breakups, or familial abuse, or gaslighting or--"
"--I feel like this is a very low bar--"
"And...just spend it with all the friends I've made."
Arch nodded, he could get that, as much as he really could. Neither of them had particularly minded being quarantined, they had both spent a long time alone in their lives. But looking at Graelyn staring up at the ceiling, he began to realize exactly how not-alone they'd both become.
It hadn't been so long ago that Archimedes was alone on Ahnerabe Station, thinking he'd spend the rest of his life alone and adrift. It wasn't so long ago for her that Graelyn had pushed the whole world away because of her hellish upbringing, and had given certainty to a life of solitude.
Even being quarantined together with his friend was twice as much human contact per day than he'd expected out of his life.
So Arch put his processors and brain cells to work, and began to formulate a plan.
* * *
Let's look outside the building, shall we? Whole world, big plague, you know the deal. The streets are empty, aside from one figure hiding behind a tree. They peer at the rented house, and begin to sneak towards it. Over their shoulder is a bag: Graelyn's bag.
* * *
Arch of course, heard the door unlock. He had exceptional hearing, being that it was literally just high end microphones and vibration sensors. So when the person tried to sneak in, the attempt was thwarted fairly quickly, as they got halfway into the kitchen to find Arch sliding in behind them to block their exit, and Graelyn, with Face-mask, standing in front of them with her hands on her hips.
"Did you really think you were breaking into my house? On my birthday?"
"It's not actually our house, it is a rental," Arch said.
"Not the most important detail I think. Now who are you?"
The man reached for his own face-mask, and Graelyn and Arch both threw up their hands, "No no no!"
"You can keep that on, we don't need to see your face."
The man still pulled his mask down, and Graelyn and Arch threw their hands up in disgust, "Really?" Graelyn said, "What was the point of that, I can hear you just fine through the mask."
The man's face went red, "Don't you know who I am?"
Graelyn shook her head.
"I'm the one who should have had your adventures! You thieving girl."
"...What?" Graelyn said, blankly.
"I'm Elliott Jo Jordan. I was the top candidate for Project Atlantis' intern position, but you somehow got it instead! I should have been the one travelling between alternate realities--"
"Uh, hate to bring this up but to be here you had to have literally travelled between alternate realities..." Arch noted.
He spun around to point a finger at Arch. "I'm not finished! I had to make a deal with that group Dusk in order to find you, and destroy you for what you did."
"I thought we defeated Dusk?" Arch said.
"They are Time Travelers. That does make it messy."
"But I thought we prevented them from ever existing?"
"But if you time traveled before you never existed you still exist."
"Ah, right. Forgot."
"You have a hard drive in your brain, how do you forg--"
"STOP TALKING LIKE I'M NOT HERE!" he yelled, "I DEMAND TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY!"
Graelyn laughed, "No thank you. Anyway, let me have my bag back."
He grinned, "Never. I finally have the upper hand on you, Graelyn Scythes. I have the power here, the leverage. The only way off this rock. Now you're going to--hey!"
While he was yammering, Arch hand simply pulled the bag out of his hand. He proceeded to block the thief by placing his hand on the top of his head as he flailed and tried to move forward.
"Right, let's get back to my birthday then, finish this up?"
Arch nodded, "Yeah, honestly I was expecting more of a threat today, I don't know why."
She shrugged, "I won't complain."
The theif promptly found himself out the door, which was slammed and locked behind him, and a chair put under the doorknob on the other side. Grumpily, he wandered off into the night.
"They'll take me seriously..." he muttered as she stepped into a puddle, and sighed.
* * *
"Well now that that's done," Arch said, holding up a tablet in front of Graelyn who was sipping a glass of milk on the couch, "I have a special present for you!" While the lag is too bad for video calls here, I asked some of our friends to send you messages!"
Graelyn tilted her head, "Really? Why?"
"...Because it's your birthday and we care about you."
She looked down at her hands, "I guess that makes sense. I don't expect you got many."
He shook his head, "I got...a lot. So why don't we start." He flopped down next to her on the couch, and each of them holding a side of the tablet, hit play.
Loading.
Loading.
Video Message 1
"Hey Graelyn! This is Lady Aesculapius!" Lady Aesculapius says, wearing a T-Shirt that said, "I'm Lady Aesculapius" on it. "I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, and I promise my friend Virginia Stens-6 will make you cupcakes when you get out of there--oh Blanche, Jason can you say hi."
A young woman who looked just like Graelyn, only with white hair, came into frame, "Hi. Sorry again about trying to murder you a few times."
A man wearing a t-shirt that said "I'm the ACE up your sleeve!" popped in from the other side of the frame, "Hey Graelyn! You might not remember me much, but happy birthday nonetheless!"
"Alright, that's all from us, your most successful spin off! Now go have fun!"
"Hey Graelyn, President Zhang Han here, wishing you a happy birthday from the presidency of Mars. My wife isn't here right now but my daughter Odyssia is. Odyssia look at the camera. Look!" she pointed at the Camera, and Odyssia barely glanced at it from her perch on her mother's lap and then returned to staring at something out of frame. "Oh well. Anyway, I've arranged for a special gift for you to be placed at the following coordinates-" a series of numbers flashed up on screen. "Many happy returns."
Graelyn didn't learn this till later, but the gift was of course a basket of popular exports and products from the planet Mars, including four different varieties of olives.
"Happy birthday from Fleet Admiral Cornelia Carthage," the admiral said, sitting rigidly at her desk. A voice off camera asked: "...is that it?"
"Yes."
"Graelyn! Do you remember me? It's Alice MacLeod. Oh, wait sorry you've probably met dozens of me now. Specifically the first one, you know Songbird? I really hope you have a lovely birthday, and everyone else does too. Jack, Treyvon, Yi, Chantelle, and Shona. Though Shona went on a trip, I'm a little worried about her...regardless, even though we've been apart you're still one of my closest and dearest friends. I hope you visit soon. All the love from the World Revolutionary Council."
"Is this on?" Shona asked.
"It's on," The Tourist replied.
"Great! Hey Grae, it's me, Shona! Also your ex-girlfriend Ashlyn is here--"
"I TOLD YOU TO NOT MENTION THAT!" Ashlyn yelled.
"I thought you said you're on good terms?"
"That doesn't mean...oh whatever," Ashlyn popped into frame next to Shona, "Hi, Happy Birthday Graelyn. I hope you and that Archimedes fellow I've heard about are having a good time. Are you two together now?"
"ASHLYN!" Shona shoved her out of frame. "So yeah, me, the Tourist, Ashlyn, Pathway, and Miranda--not your Miranda a prototype one--all wish you the happiest day! Eat cake!"
Graelyn and Arch awkwardly didn't look at each other for 87 seconds, and then Graelyn played the next video.
A Graelyn appears, not our Graelyn, but well, it's a Graelyn, "Hey me! So, things have been really great with this version of our family here...I actually just became president of the physics club. Can you believe that? I've made a lot of friends here...and well...happy birthday. You deserve it. Cheers!"
A really gross man appears. This is more of an objective description than you'd think, because his skin has been ripped off his face. Auteur grins up at the camera, "Bonjour, my daughter. Are you well? Are you eating? Have you been eaten? I'm sorry I couldn't make whatever you invited me to which was," he looks down at a paper, "this video message. But I will be sure that I make you a video message next time to make up for it."
He stops to take a sip from a glass of something that it's hard to tell is blood or wine. Trick question-it's 50/50.
"Ah yes, the formalities: Happy Birthday my dear child. I tried making you a birthday present, by asking Dracula if he would meet you, but I was informed by Father and Mother that I was simply talking in my sleep. The nerve! The audacity! I'll make it happen though, I'll write you a tale that you'll never forget my child, you'll struggle and bleed and--"
The video kindly cuts out.
"Hey Grae, it's your former lawyer Jame Morrel. I hope you have a great one. And if you need more legal services just contact me at--"
Graelyn skipped ahead to the next one.
A woman appears, holding a mimosa. She is sitting on a golden throne, waited on by a man and woman in stereotypical butler and maid outfits. The throned woman is wearing an elegant black dress, and sunglasses. Indoors.
"Hello dear, this is Ariadne Moore, or as you're more familiar with me, Chess Mistress Hex--what no I'm tired of the caviar, get me something else--regardless I hear it's your birthday." There is a long pause. "So I hope that goes well for you or whatever."
"Wow," Arch said as the video ended.
"She really does care," Graelyn said.
There is a huge group-shot--we see tons of familiar faces: it's all of Dawn, standing under the swirling clouds of Spiral. A T-Rex dozes peacefully in the background. In the front is Kinan Jans, dressed as Sesshomaru from Inu Yasha.
"Hello Graelyn," Kinan Jans says in her monotone with a wave, "I hope you know how much you have meant to all of us her, and to me in particular. I know this is a message from your workplace so I'll try not to get too smarmy or whatever. But I wanted to dress up as my favorite memory together, when we went trick-or-treating in Nightmoore. Anyway, from all of us here at Dawn..."
The group shouts at the camera, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" which wakes the T-Rex up, and it roars, startling everyone as the camera cuts off.
Graelyn looked over at Arch, "Thank you. You didn't have to do that."
He shrugged, "I kinda did. You're my best friend."
"Right back atcha--wait whats that?"
Arch looked at the tablet, "Ah, we're getting a new file. Looks like a late entry?" He pressed play.
Kinan Jans and Backgammon Jenny appear. Jenny is popping gum, and sitting on the edge of Kinan's desk. Kinan is back to her usual outfit, fingers steepled.
"Arch informed us that you caught the culprit behind your stranding. It's good to know you'll be able to head back on your own power upon the completion of your quarantine. However..."
Jenny laughed, "They're going to hate this."
"Well as I said, I'm glad you caught the culprit," Kinan droned, "but you do know that now that you had contact with someone there we have to start your quarantine clock over."
Graelyn stared unblinking, "Cool," she said, "super cool. I figured my Birthday was going too well."
Arch put a hand on her shoulder, it was very big compared to her shoulder. "I'll make you something. Your birthday, whatever you like. I've been getting pretty decent at cooking despite, you know, eating mush."
Graelyn smiled, "Let's do it together. It may not be what we expected, but we'll make the best of it. Happy birthday to me."
Thank you for five years of adventure. We hope to bring you many more. From all of us here at Arcbeatle Press and 10,000 Dawns, happy 5th anniversary to 10kd!
Copyright 2020, Arcbeatle Press and James Wylder, all rights reserved. Auteur is the property of Jacob Black, used with permission. Chess Mistress Hex is the property of Taylor Elliott, used with permission. Alice MacLeod is the property of Jo Smiley, used with permission. 10,000 Dawns and it’s characters are the property of James Wylder and Arcbeatle Press. This story is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead, or events past or present is purely co-incidental. Any resemblance to characters not owned or licensed is done firmly within the grounds of parody or satire. Arcbeatle Press is located in Elkhart, IN. arcbeatlepress.com
Copyright 2020, Arcbeatle Press and James Wylder, all rights reserved. Auteur is the property of Jacob Black, used with permission. Chess Mistress Hex is the property of Taylor Elliott, used with permission. Alice MacLeod is the property of Jo Smiley, used with permission. 10,000 Dawns and it’s characters are the property of James Wylder and Arcbeatle Press. This story is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead, or events past or present is purely co-incidental. Any resemblance to characters not owned or licensed is done firmly within the grounds of parody or satire. Arcbeatle Press is located in Elkhart, IN. arcbeatlepress.com
- Published on
Enjoy this exciting preview of Cwej: Down the Middle, a new anthology of stories chronicling the adventures of former Doctor Who companion Chris Cwej, is coming later this year from Arcbeatle Press.
See how his journey kicks off with Hunter O’Connell’s “A Bright White Crack,” and watch for Cwej: Down the Middle!
See how his journey kicks off with Hunter O’Connell’s “A Bright White Crack,” and watch for Cwej: Down the Middle!
A Bright White Crack
by Hunter O'Connell
1
-;/A>Vicinity_Message_1<A\;-
Carl Sagan, the most recognizable astronomer and most gifted wordsmith of the 20th century, suggested taking a photograph. It was a surprise that such a man, to whom analytical thinking came so easy, would care enough about photography to have a picture taken by Voyager 1, thrown several billions of miles into that unyielding void.
“Look, look! What’s that?” he may have said, “that’s where Earth is! I can barely see it from here! Take a picture, we’ve got to take a picture of this!”
Almost seven years later, with Voyager 1 still in operation, the man who took us one step closer to the stars he couldn’t yet reach left to join them. The countless lanterns in an endless stretch of black swirled around the Earth, white points wrapped across the dark blanket of night. The Pale Blue Dot stood still.
What if it didn’t? Just imagine, all the Pale Blue Dots of the entire cosmos, all those orbiting things, lined up at once. Imagine if we just took one and looked at it changing forms and shifting places as the Universe expanded and, eventually, crunched.
Lining up every Earth at every point in time. From dusk till dawn of each day, existing, being. Imagine if we tried, just once, to understand our surroundings, because all that surrounded us was us. A Bright White Crack, try to visualize that…
Now get it out of your head, because that’s not how it works.
The Universe is a myth.
No, that doesn’t mean it’s a simulation. Look at it like this. “Uni–” is a prefix meaning “single.” That is to say, and try to keep an open mind… there’s more than one. Instead of thinking Earth could benefit from more of itself, realize that there already are more Earths.
It isn’t a matter of Earth at every stage of its life, it’s a matter of every single version Earth has to offer, tangled in the knots of life and death and everything in between, every single thing you can imagine already happening.
You want an Earth where, say, H. P. Lovecraft insults you to your face and then the world grows limbs and roles away? It’s already there. What about an Earth where you’re actually happy, or sad, or Satan himself calls an online post you made cringe, or your high school history teacher finally gives you the wink and thumbs-up you always craved? Been there, done that.
Overwhelmed yet? If so, don’t worry, because in this log we’ll only focus on one. This is my story. This is my experience as an agent for my Superiors. This is Christopher Cwej, signing off.
/log_end./
Cwej pressed the Vicinity’s mind transporter button on the back of his neck. What a day. He felt the rush of relief, now that his most recent mission was over. It’d been one of his most ludicrous jobs he’d had to perform for his Superiors. Each time they got more and more silly and trite. His philosophy nowadays was this: those who lived in ignorance of their nature in the vast tapestry that formed the Totality had, at the very least, larger roles within the Universal narrative, having more work to fill their existence with, in comparison to the beings who had chosen a side in the War.
The mission he had released himself from was one to remember, if for all the wrong reasons. The Democratic Saturnian Entanglement had been on the brink of unraveling the mechanics to recreate the creation of the Linear Universe, and if they could recreate it, they could just as easily destroy it. Cwej’s Superiors had of course been the race who’d established the Linear Universe in the first place. They certainly didn’t want all Their hard work spoilt by some lower-life forms in the evolutionary ladder! They’d sent Chris off to deal with the crisis, watching the time until he returned successful to his monitored Vicinity.
Cwej had put a stop to the Entanglement’s machinations with an elaborate set-up, tricking the Saturnians, to ensure their findings were forgotten about: he’d implemented the rings of Saturn, in reality, a group of highly powerful disintegrators capable of turning the planet into a gaseous dust-ball if the Entanglement so much as glanced at their paperwork.
He didn’t want to think about what would happen to whoever was left on Saturn.
“Drink, please,” he said once he was transported back. As soon as he uttered that single phrase, a banana smoothie showed up in his hand, immediately becoming physical (or, at least, as physical as something can get in a consciousness download). The Vicinity was just as devoid of detail as always, but he liked it that way. Chris Cwej’s Superiors were the most complex pan-dimensional beings the Totality had ever produced. He didn’t need the added distractions of decorative flair in his quarters.
Cwej’s requested construction was an endless stretch of fog, solidifying where the ground should be. The gray could only be comparable to a Floridian marsh during the summer, just substituting all the heat for double the sticky humidity.
Cwej’s Vicinity was inside of a computer, after all, and computers overheat. At least the place came with a fan, if the Superiors were feeling generous. Sometimes Chris lived with a body instead of as a pure downloaded consciousness, things were much cooler when he had skin. Maybe it was one of those “grass is greener on the other side of the fence” scenarios.
Today was the three-year anniversary of his creation as a V-Time experiment. He was the only one of his kind, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His enigmatic Superiors had stripped his flesh away, and They’d put him in an endless room where he could wish for anything he could ever want.
He’d marked the anniversary on his virtual calendar earlier that “week” (with time being nonexistent in this place, he had to rely on the old Wartime calendar method). He’d even brazenly asked the Superiors to contract another of Their many agents to fulfil his missions for him today. After all, it was an anniversary!
The request obviously didn’t go down well. The psychic voices of his bosses boomed through his mind. You are a servant of the most powerful and important causal beings in the Totality, and unlike those superfluous years you wasted with police work, you do not get sick days.
Well, for what it was worth, he didn’t like being kept in a grayish virtual room. He didn’t like seeing coded dreams and waking up to find that he was still a slave to his masters. At least during missions he had a body, his mind plucked from the digital realm of the Vicinity and deposited into a fleshy vessel that was known as Chris Cwej. He was still part of the system though. Chris sheepishly recalled a distant time when he’d thought being dead was better than assisting the maintenance of the laws created by the Superiors: those beings who wove Their likenesses into the biology of every being.
Ah, all those days gone by made him wince with embarrassment. He knew his place, and it wasn’t in questioning authority, not anymore.
He was a police officer, the protector of righteous laws, and a time-traveler from the 30th century. And in the years that marked the War? Well, it was easy to ask what Chris hadn’t been…
The gray, foggy color swirling around Chris’ avatar started to feel eerie. Just as he was getting ready to sit down and watch some experimental horror movies from the 90s (2690s, that is), a crackle of static wind invaded his senses, seemingly enunciating words to mimic the language of old.
“Yes?” he said to the wind calling out his name. “Yes, what is it? What do you want, guys?”
That’s when he noticed what was wrong. This wasn’t a normal mission from the enigmatic creatures that employed him. This wasn’t even a mission at all. It was a broken record. There were the same inflections, that same tone on repeat. Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej.
The realization made him nearly tip over in his virtual chair and fall into the smoke. The voice sounded distressed, unlike any message he had received from the Superiors so far. Staring upward out of human instinct to find the higher power in the most literal way possible, he failed to notice his chair sinking into the endless fog.
The gray clouds swirled across the ground, parting for the chair like rippling water. As the ever-encroaching particles of the fog came closer to Cwej’s line of sight, he looked down, but it was too late. He was pulled down through the Vicinity’s solid ground.
The darkness seemed twice as expansive to Cwej as the VY Canis Majoris, as black and as massive as the Boötes Void. Cwej was alone. He was left without help from his employers, and felt concerned and uneasy that someone, somewhere, somehow, had outsmarted the faceless gods he worked for. Something was wrong.
He slid down a steep hill on his behind. Something smooth, like plastic, a plastic slide from his childhood. It was the edge of something.
No… It was the edge of everything.
The Universe, every single one known to human and Superior alike, has an edge. Look at reality as if it were two conveyor belts, one above the other, and the conveyor belts had funnels stuck to them with Elmer’s Glue or something.
The funnel represents the Universe’s basic shape, according to the Picard Horn model. My Superiors, or at least a few of Them, have gone outside the boundaries of space itself. For those whose biology and home existence are basically synonymous, it’s quite a feat. Regardless, They saw the shape of the Universe as a Horn when exiting it.
So, the Universe is a funnel, and every other Universe is the same shape in this conveyor belt scenario. Two belts moving opposite to each other, each funnel tip touching another tip for a small amount of time, just small enough for those at the tip to peer down to the other Universe.
Some call the space in between the funnels the Time Vortex, but I’ve been instructed to call it the Bifrost. The Superiors said something about changing the name thanks to a negotiative effort… Anyways, sorry for interrupting.
It took Chris two days to realize he wasn’t going back to the experimental safe-haven of the Vicinity.
Cwej had been human once. More precisely, he was part of a species called the Cwejen; they were clones from a War against an unseen adversary, a War that had eventually finished. Supposedly there had been an original Chris Cwej before the Spawning of the Multitude of Cwejen. Now existed a population of 12 billion Cwejen in the Totality, which was the name assigned to the Universe in order for the Superiors to shun anything claiming to live in higher realms of being than Them. Each of the Cwejen was created within the engine of a flesh machine, and bred for the long-ended War. Once the temporal battlefields fell silent, the manufacturing of Cwejen ceased.
Each clone within the Cwej ranks had been given a name and identification to represent their relationship to the original Cwej’s personal history. Prime, Plus, Magnus, and now, Cwej-V: the ultimate Cwej experiment by the very creators of time. The Superiors liked to claim that, anyways. Chris kept repeating this to himself to ground his mind, on the brink of collapse. Cwej-V had signed his soul away to a digital dimension within a large databank stored at the core of the Superiors’ Base of Operations, Their jewelled home planet at the centre of the seven galaxies. Now that Chris was downloaded and his flesh stripped away, he could “upload” (if that’s the right term) into 7 million of the Cwejen that the Superiors had stationed in places of significance across the cosmos. His job was simple: prevent the War from happening again.
This is what he thought to himself ad nauseum for a few days in pure space. The facts were hardly reassuring to his situation, but they made him feel almost real. In reality, he was the least real person in the Totality.
Twenty-eight days in darkness, feeling yourself falling sideways on a plastic surface that was neither hot nor cold, but the opposite of both, was enough to drive anyone mad. Each time Christopher Cwej felt a tug on his sanity, his artificial brain rearranged itself. It was torture, needing to have your data changed in order to keep your mind intact.
Whatever glitch this was that made him no-clip through the floor of creation like in a buggy video game, it was clear the Superiors were too preoccupied to take care of his worthless existence.
Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej, that was all he heard.
You are ready.
What?
Twenty-eight days on repeat. His name, over and over. Something different now assaulting his senses felt unnatural, kind of sickening. It wasn’t right.
Then he saw a light, burning as bright and magnificent as a supernova, and engulfing him like a Broadway play stage light. A voice croaked, one he didn’t recognize. It sounded like a frog having a head cold while choking on a fly. “Yes, I think he is.” The light got closer until he could make out what it was.
He was leaving the Universe. The funnel’s exit was in view.
Chris woke up. Funny, he could have sworn his hardware wouldn’t allow him to sleep until just recently. That was the only thing he’d wanted the Superiors to change in Their agreement originally, but They couldn’t find the time or resources to program him with different dreams each night.
His ears were ringing, his eyes were watering, and his head throbbed with immeasurable pain. With each second his eyesight began to come back, showing him a piece of the puzzle.
He felt the hair on top of his head rubbing against a sort of prickly, evenly dispersed, well-kept substance. It smelled like an Earth-based plant. Was he on Earth? Whichever Earth he was on, he could tell with the amount of light coming through the initial dark that it was around 2 p.m. and that something bright and semi-large was in his line of sight.
He got up, rubbed his eyes, and found himself smack-dab in the center of a courtyard. He was right: he was lying down on a patch of grass, face-first. When he got up, he could still feel pain, as if he’d hit his head on a rock. There were only rocks in some flowerbeds, as far as he could see, so it couldn’t have been that.
He was feeling fatigued, after the ordeal of nothingness that had taken nearly a month of his life. He thought of maybe just lying back down and waiting to download back into the Vicinity, but then he heard the commotion, and his curiosity grew larger by the second.
Cameras clicked and flashed, blinding him further. Chatter cluttered his senses. The bright day illuminated the grass, which was an unusual shade of green. A press conference was in progress around him. He saw cyclopean pillars of painted white, connected by a pediment. There were protests outside the courtyard, nothing too spectacular, but one sign truly stuck out like a sore thumb. “Do Something, Mr. President.” He looked back at the mansion. He was at the White House, and he found himself dressed like a reporter, wearing a beige suit and dark brown pants that seemed to clash in an unfashionable way. He felt a ring on his finger, which, upon closer inspection, looked a lot like his time ring in the Totality. Everyone was trying to get attention from the man at the dais, spitballing and holding microphones up like children raising their hands to answer a teacher’s question.
He always remembered hearing about the White House as a kid. He didn’t expect it to be this small. Columns as tall as he was had been drawn in the picture books to be as tall as skyscrapers.
Americans. Gotta love ’em and their arrogance.
“You okay, Chris?” He jumped, startled, half-expecting to see the grey clouds of his data-home. Instead, he saw a woman with disheveled red hair in a semi-bun, wearing a skirt of plaid material, looking at him with questioning eyes.
“Um, yeah, I suppose you could say that… but if you’ll indulge me, be honest… Who the hell are you, and what on Earth am I doing here?”
She chuckled through gritted teeth. That didn’t help. “You’re a real stranger sometimes, Cwej. But next time, you could at least pay attention, they’re about to ask questions about the meteor…”
“Meteor? Huh…” Cwej was still shaken up by his adventure in monotony, but that only made his speculations all the stronger.
“You’re sure you’re okay, right Cwej? You seem, I don’t know, confused.”
He ignored whoever she was, and tuned in to the questions being asked. “Mr. President, will you apologize on behalf of all other world leaders for the negligence of the meteor’s potential threat to Earth?”
“Well, to answer your question, I have spoken with the leaders of several UN countries and we are all going to meet in order to assess the probability that another meteor will come close to collision. We are committed to—”
Cwej lost interest at this point. He observed the seething crowd of reporters, mentally noting that each of the people attending this conference wore clothes very indicative of the 21st century, most likely the mid-2030s by the looks of the cameras they were using. But which mid-2030s was he in?
He’d long since come to terms with being a clone, nothing more than one part of the Multitude of the countless Cwejen, but suddenly his confusion felt like that of a naturally-bred human. He thought he could remember his past, but now the very concept of that past was fragmented, a solitary shard lost within the ever-growing mystery of where he was and how he had been transported away. Perhaps his past had been rewritten. Perhaps he’d received another one altogether. Perhaps he’d never had one.
He felt a pressure on his leg and, after a moment of fumbling, pulled a HoloPhone Flat out of his pocket, a sheet of near-indestructible glass that used nanotechnology to create the illusion of applications and circuitry. It was consistent with the 2020 model he’d once been allowed to fiddle with at a nostalgic lunar colony expo of Earth gadgetry. Well, at least that detail stayed the same upon Universal transit.
There must be some sort of news headline, Cwej thought in silence, there must be. I have to figure out why I’m here. There must be some probable explanation.
A hop, skip and a retweet away, there it was, clear as day. The front page of WaPo, CNN, the BBC, anyone who was anyone, all of them were talking about the meteor that had nearly destroyed all life on Earth (or at least their Earth), and how poorly prepared the leaders were for such a catastrophe. A literal extinction event was just narrowly avoided by a few miles of distance. Otherwise, it would have been pulled into the exosphere and who knows if anyone would have survived?
Cwej realized the severity of the situation, standing in the patch of grass and listening to the reporters’ questions to the President on why they’d had no plan prior to the meteor arriving. Obviously, this was serious, but what weighed more on his mind was the fact that these weren’t his clothes, that girl wasn’t his partner, and this wasn’t his Earth, nor was it his Universe. And that man would never in a million years have gotten to be President.
He listened in on the answers the President gave and jotted them down on his HoloPhone:
• Yes, we have contacted the Artillery Base of Oregon to request they use their stock load of missiles to shoot down any and all spatial threats that rear their heads in the future.
• No, we do not plan on that.
• As stated earlier, every country within the United Nations is committed to ensuring the future of the Earth, and talks are being held to create a new plan of action for all meteors, asteroids, and comets in the future.
• I can’t answer that at this time.
• The plan will take effect in two weeks. This issue is one that supports the futures of the children of the world, the future of humanity, and our fragile ecosystem. A meteor entering the Earth’s gravity could end life in the oceans of Earth as we know it.
Chris sighed in apathy. As bad as it sounded, he could do nothing. He had higher qualified services than what was required in these Earthly affairs. After all, whoever had brought him here was obviously not malicious. Whoever’d swept him away to this version of Earth must have only wanted help stabilizing this world after it had nearly been destroyed. Chris could do nothing to assist the collateral damage this disaster had wrought. Now with national politics making an even larger mess of a situation already steeped swathes of humanity’s biggest short-coming: The fear of the unknown.
These people were denied progress by their fragile egos, was it fair to help? Cwej thought for a moment. His mind on a coin’s edge, to help, or to leave? Was this even worth his time? He felt a shiver of mild annoyance, he’d been taken here against his will. Even the Superiors gave him some warning, some context! The moment ended, he’d decided.
He just couldn’t. This wasn’t his place, this wasn’t his choice, and most importantly, this wasn’t his Earth. He didn’t have the right. He had to find a way back.
The press conference ended about an hour and a half later, and Cwej would be lying if he said he hadn’t gotten tired of the blue sky. Why couldn’t it be a gray, similar to his Vicinity? Why couldn’t it be multicolored or pink or something?
The overhead layer of blue that enveloped the world he now stood on reminded Chris of the curved and imprisoning dome of the City Firmament on the Base of Operations. Even the Vicinity was preferable to those options. He’d traded one prison for another, for another.
Hailing a taxi, Chris reeled in the cool leather seat, the imagery rushing by in thick, blurred colors. The sights and sounds of this Earth whirled by.
It was all too overwhelming, his senses flaring into overload. The grass felt too green, the White House felt too white, and the cab, now stopped, seemed too yellow. Chris fell out into the streets in a bundle, the piercing green of the dollar notes he handed to the driver winked knowingly at him. The rush of the many colors pounded his very essence.
The grass is always greener on the other side, as the saying goes, but that doesn’t always mean it’s a better shade.
He collapsed on the bed of a hotel room several minutes later, in the same way a kid would shape their body to make a snow angel. Perhaps when he got back to the Totality, snow would be what he needed to see on his next mission.
“Scotch, please.” He held out his hand in anticipation for a drink. It did not come.
Oh. Right.
Chris sighed into the silence of his hotel room. It hit him, the blue of the sky, the green of the grass, the brown wooden panels in his room for the night. The colors persisted. They were permanent. Chris admitted defeat.
I might be here for a while.
After a few mournful moments, Chris decided he’d make the most of his terrestrial exile. He wondered if Uber existed on this version of Earth. He imagined the undulating chorus of human conversation, the flowing taps of booze, and most of all, the comfort of company. Chris imagined contact; the warmth of humanity against his skin, that what was he needed.
Perhaps he was to go to a bar? Gay, straight, any communal place with the possible allure of meeting others with whom he could share his soul for some time. Chris wondered if he would venture into the wilderness of DC’s Nightlife if he found more than just a night of passion…hell, maybe he’d meet just the right person (or people) and be able to go on a proper date?
I might be here for a while, Cwej repeated the newly formed mantra in his head.
He looked up at the ceiling, far away he felt a prescient shiver, as if a great storm was growing strong on a distant horizon…
Realizing for the first time how itchy his human clothes were, Chris’ mind flitted back to his present circumstances. He wished he could wear that skin-tight armor he’d so loved, he wished tha--
Darkness. It’s getting darker. Am I going back home? Is this sleep? Am I finally going to drift off into real, honest-to-Goddess dreams? Is this all just one big dream?
The thoughts fumbled around in the fog of his extracorporeal brain. Perhaps by luck, or by the influence of whatever powerful force had dragged him through the cascading vortexes of the Bifrost, Cwej rolled over on the TV remote. And in the flicker of a screen, Cwej lost hope for the world.
Chaos.
Death.
Burning.
Chris Cwej, the fool, regarded the piles of images flooding the screen of the television. Not even the most grotesque horror film would show such horrific desolation of human lives… Never before had he seen so many bodies squeezed into one frame of film. Cwej opened his mouth, half-expecting a scream, but all he could muster was a stifled retch at sight of the images that burned onto his retinas.Yet he couldn’t keep his gaze away. The tragedy was captivating in its obscenity.
This was real.
This had happened, was happening, now. These scenes of death and terror weren’t some distorted fiction, Chris saw the caption on the footage, it was a live news channel, streaming the announcement of this imminent extinction, beaming a barrage of visual depictions of this unmitigated tragedy straight to the screens of the screaming American populace.
Live.
He pressed the power button. The room kept getting darker… and darker… and darker… His lights went out…
No amount of missions could have prepared him for what he experienced beyond the darkness.
Drifting through the void of his mind, Chris at last heard them… Contact…
Hey love, still on for tomorrow? Let’s have a quiet one, just get something from the Chippy and watch some telly at your flat. xx
Splendid. I think that’s a perfectly reasonable time! All’s on track for our official reopening. Let’s shoot for tomorrow.
Night son! Remember Luke’s in the morning! He has that cool old computer there. You’ll love it, mate! See ya tomorrow!!
I can’t believe it’s starting tomorrow! I’ve set a reminder for when it airs. Can’t wait to watch it!
That reoccurring word…It haunted Chris, the promise that would never come: “Tomorrow.”
Cwej snapped out of his trance. He felt like he was back in the digital realm.
He stopped to think. Those words, those voices, seemingly incongruous messages… Chippy, flat, morning…
Then it hit him.
He had just witnessed the final words of British civilians—their final messages to their loved ones. These were ones that died, the ones who were burnt alive by the incoming disturbance in the atmosphere crashing down. He heard thunder, felt the shake of the Earth, and with that he knew that there’d been an impact, some juggernaut smashing into the surface of that tiny island and shattering the crust of the world, killing millions in the process.
He’d once been to a Universe where only Great Britain survived. Now they were the first to go. He felt himself shedding a tear for those poor people, for that stubborn nation that had survived two World Wars, for all the culture that would never see tomorrow.
This was the same meteor he’d seen on his phone, that all of humanity saw in the sky. He knew that no spatial bodies could circle back. He knew this for a fact. Something had to have been piloting that asteroid into the exosphere, all the way to the surface. It was a deliberate attack!
The reason it was so dark would’ve been because of the brief period whereby the meteor shielded the Sun.
So this was why he was planted here. It was a cry for help. To stop the culprit who had planned this out. To find the terrorists that’d destroyed this planet…
“Hey, if you can hear me, thank you for sending me here. I promise to do all I can to stop them.”
Carl Sagan, the most recognizable astronomer and most gifted wordsmith of the 20th century, suggested taking a photograph. It was a surprise that such a man, to whom analytical thinking came so easy, would care enough about photography to have a picture taken by Voyager 1, thrown several billions of miles into that unyielding void.
“Look, look! What’s that?” he may have said, “that’s where Earth is! I can barely see it from here! Take a picture, we’ve got to take a picture of this!”
Almost seven years later, with Voyager 1 still in operation, the man who took us one step closer to the stars he couldn’t yet reach left to join them. The countless lanterns in an endless stretch of black swirled around the Earth, white points wrapped across the dark blanket of night. The Pale Blue Dot stood still.
What if it didn’t? Just imagine, all the Pale Blue Dots of the entire cosmos, all those orbiting things, lined up at once. Imagine if we just took one and looked at it changing forms and shifting places as the Universe expanded and, eventually, crunched.
Lining up every Earth at every point in time. From dusk till dawn of each day, existing, being. Imagine if we tried, just once, to understand our surroundings, because all that surrounded us was us. A Bright White Crack, try to visualize that…
Now get it out of your head, because that’s not how it works.
The Universe is a myth.
No, that doesn’t mean it’s a simulation. Look at it like this. “Uni–” is a prefix meaning “single.” That is to say, and try to keep an open mind… there’s more than one. Instead of thinking Earth could benefit from more of itself, realize that there already are more Earths.
It isn’t a matter of Earth at every stage of its life, it’s a matter of every single version Earth has to offer, tangled in the knots of life and death and everything in between, every single thing you can imagine already happening.
You want an Earth where, say, H. P. Lovecraft insults you to your face and then the world grows limbs and roles away? It’s already there. What about an Earth where you’re actually happy, or sad, or Satan himself calls an online post you made cringe, or your high school history teacher finally gives you the wink and thumbs-up you always craved? Been there, done that.
Overwhelmed yet? If so, don’t worry, because in this log we’ll only focus on one. This is my story. This is my experience as an agent for my Superiors. This is Christopher Cwej, signing off.
/log_end./
Cwej pressed the Vicinity’s mind transporter button on the back of his neck. What a day. He felt the rush of relief, now that his most recent mission was over. It’d been one of his most ludicrous jobs he’d had to perform for his Superiors. Each time they got more and more silly and trite. His philosophy nowadays was this: those who lived in ignorance of their nature in the vast tapestry that formed the Totality had, at the very least, larger roles within the Universal narrative, having more work to fill their existence with, in comparison to the beings who had chosen a side in the War.
The mission he had released himself from was one to remember, if for all the wrong reasons. The Democratic Saturnian Entanglement had been on the brink of unraveling the mechanics to recreate the creation of the Linear Universe, and if they could recreate it, they could just as easily destroy it. Cwej’s Superiors had of course been the race who’d established the Linear Universe in the first place. They certainly didn’t want all Their hard work spoilt by some lower-life forms in the evolutionary ladder! They’d sent Chris off to deal with the crisis, watching the time until he returned successful to his monitored Vicinity.
Cwej had put a stop to the Entanglement’s machinations with an elaborate set-up, tricking the Saturnians, to ensure their findings were forgotten about: he’d implemented the rings of Saturn, in reality, a group of highly powerful disintegrators capable of turning the planet into a gaseous dust-ball if the Entanglement so much as glanced at their paperwork.
He didn’t want to think about what would happen to whoever was left on Saturn.
“Drink, please,” he said once he was transported back. As soon as he uttered that single phrase, a banana smoothie showed up in his hand, immediately becoming physical (or, at least, as physical as something can get in a consciousness download). The Vicinity was just as devoid of detail as always, but he liked it that way. Chris Cwej’s Superiors were the most complex pan-dimensional beings the Totality had ever produced. He didn’t need the added distractions of decorative flair in his quarters.
Cwej’s requested construction was an endless stretch of fog, solidifying where the ground should be. The gray could only be comparable to a Floridian marsh during the summer, just substituting all the heat for double the sticky humidity.
Cwej’s Vicinity was inside of a computer, after all, and computers overheat. At least the place came with a fan, if the Superiors were feeling generous. Sometimes Chris lived with a body instead of as a pure downloaded consciousness, things were much cooler when he had skin. Maybe it was one of those “grass is greener on the other side of the fence” scenarios.
Today was the three-year anniversary of his creation as a V-Time experiment. He was the only one of his kind, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His enigmatic Superiors had stripped his flesh away, and They’d put him in an endless room where he could wish for anything he could ever want.
He’d marked the anniversary on his virtual calendar earlier that “week” (with time being nonexistent in this place, he had to rely on the old Wartime calendar method). He’d even brazenly asked the Superiors to contract another of Their many agents to fulfil his missions for him today. After all, it was an anniversary!
The request obviously didn’t go down well. The psychic voices of his bosses boomed through his mind. You are a servant of the most powerful and important causal beings in the Totality, and unlike those superfluous years you wasted with police work, you do not get sick days.
Well, for what it was worth, he didn’t like being kept in a grayish virtual room. He didn’t like seeing coded dreams and waking up to find that he was still a slave to his masters. At least during missions he had a body, his mind plucked from the digital realm of the Vicinity and deposited into a fleshy vessel that was known as Chris Cwej. He was still part of the system though. Chris sheepishly recalled a distant time when he’d thought being dead was better than assisting the maintenance of the laws created by the Superiors: those beings who wove Their likenesses into the biology of every being.
Ah, all those days gone by made him wince with embarrassment. He knew his place, and it wasn’t in questioning authority, not anymore.
He was a police officer, the protector of righteous laws, and a time-traveler from the 30th century. And in the years that marked the War? Well, it was easy to ask what Chris hadn’t been…
The gray, foggy color swirling around Chris’ avatar started to feel eerie. Just as he was getting ready to sit down and watch some experimental horror movies from the 90s (2690s, that is), a crackle of static wind invaded his senses, seemingly enunciating words to mimic the language of old.
“Yes?” he said to the wind calling out his name. “Yes, what is it? What do you want, guys?”
That’s when he noticed what was wrong. This wasn’t a normal mission from the enigmatic creatures that employed him. This wasn’t even a mission at all. It was a broken record. There were the same inflections, that same tone on repeat. Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej.
The realization made him nearly tip over in his virtual chair and fall into the smoke. The voice sounded distressed, unlike any message he had received from the Superiors so far. Staring upward out of human instinct to find the higher power in the most literal way possible, he failed to notice his chair sinking into the endless fog.
The gray clouds swirled across the ground, parting for the chair like rippling water. As the ever-encroaching particles of the fog came closer to Cwej’s line of sight, he looked down, but it was too late. He was pulled down through the Vicinity’s solid ground.
The darkness seemed twice as expansive to Cwej as the VY Canis Majoris, as black and as massive as the Boötes Void. Cwej was alone. He was left without help from his employers, and felt concerned and uneasy that someone, somewhere, somehow, had outsmarted the faceless gods he worked for. Something was wrong.
He slid down a steep hill on his behind. Something smooth, like plastic, a plastic slide from his childhood. It was the edge of something.
No… It was the edge of everything.
The Universe, every single one known to human and Superior alike, has an edge. Look at reality as if it were two conveyor belts, one above the other, and the conveyor belts had funnels stuck to them with Elmer’s Glue or something.
The funnel represents the Universe’s basic shape, according to the Picard Horn model. My Superiors, or at least a few of Them, have gone outside the boundaries of space itself. For those whose biology and home existence are basically synonymous, it’s quite a feat. Regardless, They saw the shape of the Universe as a Horn when exiting it.
So, the Universe is a funnel, and every other Universe is the same shape in this conveyor belt scenario. Two belts moving opposite to each other, each funnel tip touching another tip for a small amount of time, just small enough for those at the tip to peer down to the other Universe.
Some call the space in between the funnels the Time Vortex, but I’ve been instructed to call it the Bifrost. The Superiors said something about changing the name thanks to a negotiative effort… Anyways, sorry for interrupting.
It took Chris two days to realize he wasn’t going back to the experimental safe-haven of the Vicinity.
Cwej had been human once. More precisely, he was part of a species called the Cwejen; they were clones from a War against an unseen adversary, a War that had eventually finished. Supposedly there had been an original Chris Cwej before the Spawning of the Multitude of Cwejen. Now existed a population of 12 billion Cwejen in the Totality, which was the name assigned to the Universe in order for the Superiors to shun anything claiming to live in higher realms of being than Them. Each of the Cwejen was created within the engine of a flesh machine, and bred for the long-ended War. Once the temporal battlefields fell silent, the manufacturing of Cwejen ceased.
Each clone within the Cwej ranks had been given a name and identification to represent their relationship to the original Cwej’s personal history. Prime, Plus, Magnus, and now, Cwej-V: the ultimate Cwej experiment by the very creators of time. The Superiors liked to claim that, anyways. Chris kept repeating this to himself to ground his mind, on the brink of collapse. Cwej-V had signed his soul away to a digital dimension within a large databank stored at the core of the Superiors’ Base of Operations, Their jewelled home planet at the centre of the seven galaxies. Now that Chris was downloaded and his flesh stripped away, he could “upload” (if that’s the right term) into 7 million of the Cwejen that the Superiors had stationed in places of significance across the cosmos. His job was simple: prevent the War from happening again.
This is what he thought to himself ad nauseum for a few days in pure space. The facts were hardly reassuring to his situation, but they made him feel almost real. In reality, he was the least real person in the Totality.
Twenty-eight days in darkness, feeling yourself falling sideways on a plastic surface that was neither hot nor cold, but the opposite of both, was enough to drive anyone mad. Each time Christopher Cwej felt a tug on his sanity, his artificial brain rearranged itself. It was torture, needing to have your data changed in order to keep your mind intact.
Whatever glitch this was that made him no-clip through the floor of creation like in a buggy video game, it was clear the Superiors were too preoccupied to take care of his worthless existence.
Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej Chris Cwej, that was all he heard.
You are ready.
What?
Twenty-eight days on repeat. His name, over and over. Something different now assaulting his senses felt unnatural, kind of sickening. It wasn’t right.
Then he saw a light, burning as bright and magnificent as a supernova, and engulfing him like a Broadway play stage light. A voice croaked, one he didn’t recognize. It sounded like a frog having a head cold while choking on a fly. “Yes, I think he is.” The light got closer until he could make out what it was.
He was leaving the Universe. The funnel’s exit was in view.
Chris woke up. Funny, he could have sworn his hardware wouldn’t allow him to sleep until just recently. That was the only thing he’d wanted the Superiors to change in Their agreement originally, but They couldn’t find the time or resources to program him with different dreams each night.
His ears were ringing, his eyes were watering, and his head throbbed with immeasurable pain. With each second his eyesight began to come back, showing him a piece of the puzzle.
He felt the hair on top of his head rubbing against a sort of prickly, evenly dispersed, well-kept substance. It smelled like an Earth-based plant. Was he on Earth? Whichever Earth he was on, he could tell with the amount of light coming through the initial dark that it was around 2 p.m. and that something bright and semi-large was in his line of sight.
He got up, rubbed his eyes, and found himself smack-dab in the center of a courtyard. He was right: he was lying down on a patch of grass, face-first. When he got up, he could still feel pain, as if he’d hit his head on a rock. There were only rocks in some flowerbeds, as far as he could see, so it couldn’t have been that.
He was feeling fatigued, after the ordeal of nothingness that had taken nearly a month of his life. He thought of maybe just lying back down and waiting to download back into the Vicinity, but then he heard the commotion, and his curiosity grew larger by the second.
Cameras clicked and flashed, blinding him further. Chatter cluttered his senses. The bright day illuminated the grass, which was an unusual shade of green. A press conference was in progress around him. He saw cyclopean pillars of painted white, connected by a pediment. There were protests outside the courtyard, nothing too spectacular, but one sign truly stuck out like a sore thumb. “Do Something, Mr. President.” He looked back at the mansion. He was at the White House, and he found himself dressed like a reporter, wearing a beige suit and dark brown pants that seemed to clash in an unfashionable way. He felt a ring on his finger, which, upon closer inspection, looked a lot like his time ring in the Totality. Everyone was trying to get attention from the man at the dais, spitballing and holding microphones up like children raising their hands to answer a teacher’s question.
He always remembered hearing about the White House as a kid. He didn’t expect it to be this small. Columns as tall as he was had been drawn in the picture books to be as tall as skyscrapers.
Americans. Gotta love ’em and their arrogance.
“You okay, Chris?” He jumped, startled, half-expecting to see the grey clouds of his data-home. Instead, he saw a woman with disheveled red hair in a semi-bun, wearing a skirt of plaid material, looking at him with questioning eyes.
“Um, yeah, I suppose you could say that… but if you’ll indulge me, be honest… Who the hell are you, and what on Earth am I doing here?”
She chuckled through gritted teeth. That didn’t help. “You’re a real stranger sometimes, Cwej. But next time, you could at least pay attention, they’re about to ask questions about the meteor…”
“Meteor? Huh…” Cwej was still shaken up by his adventure in monotony, but that only made his speculations all the stronger.
“You’re sure you’re okay, right Cwej? You seem, I don’t know, confused.”
He ignored whoever she was, and tuned in to the questions being asked. “Mr. President, will you apologize on behalf of all other world leaders for the negligence of the meteor’s potential threat to Earth?”
“Well, to answer your question, I have spoken with the leaders of several UN countries and we are all going to meet in order to assess the probability that another meteor will come close to collision. We are committed to—”
Cwej lost interest at this point. He observed the seething crowd of reporters, mentally noting that each of the people attending this conference wore clothes very indicative of the 21st century, most likely the mid-2030s by the looks of the cameras they were using. But which mid-2030s was he in?
He’d long since come to terms with being a clone, nothing more than one part of the Multitude of the countless Cwejen, but suddenly his confusion felt like that of a naturally-bred human. He thought he could remember his past, but now the very concept of that past was fragmented, a solitary shard lost within the ever-growing mystery of where he was and how he had been transported away. Perhaps his past had been rewritten. Perhaps he’d received another one altogether. Perhaps he’d never had one.
He felt a pressure on his leg and, after a moment of fumbling, pulled a HoloPhone Flat out of his pocket, a sheet of near-indestructible glass that used nanotechnology to create the illusion of applications and circuitry. It was consistent with the 2020 model he’d once been allowed to fiddle with at a nostalgic lunar colony expo of Earth gadgetry. Well, at least that detail stayed the same upon Universal transit.
There must be some sort of news headline, Cwej thought in silence, there must be. I have to figure out why I’m here. There must be some probable explanation.
A hop, skip and a retweet away, there it was, clear as day. The front page of WaPo, CNN, the BBC, anyone who was anyone, all of them were talking about the meteor that had nearly destroyed all life on Earth (or at least their Earth), and how poorly prepared the leaders were for such a catastrophe. A literal extinction event was just narrowly avoided by a few miles of distance. Otherwise, it would have been pulled into the exosphere and who knows if anyone would have survived?
Cwej realized the severity of the situation, standing in the patch of grass and listening to the reporters’ questions to the President on why they’d had no plan prior to the meteor arriving. Obviously, this was serious, but what weighed more on his mind was the fact that these weren’t his clothes, that girl wasn’t his partner, and this wasn’t his Earth, nor was it his Universe. And that man would never in a million years have gotten to be President.
He listened in on the answers the President gave and jotted them down on his HoloPhone:
• Yes, we have contacted the Artillery Base of Oregon to request they use their stock load of missiles to shoot down any and all spatial threats that rear their heads in the future.
• No, we do not plan on that.
• As stated earlier, every country within the United Nations is committed to ensuring the future of the Earth, and talks are being held to create a new plan of action for all meteors, asteroids, and comets in the future.
• I can’t answer that at this time.
• The plan will take effect in two weeks. This issue is one that supports the futures of the children of the world, the future of humanity, and our fragile ecosystem. A meteor entering the Earth’s gravity could end life in the oceans of Earth as we know it.
Chris sighed in apathy. As bad as it sounded, he could do nothing. He had higher qualified services than what was required in these Earthly affairs. After all, whoever had brought him here was obviously not malicious. Whoever’d swept him away to this version of Earth must have only wanted help stabilizing this world after it had nearly been destroyed. Chris could do nothing to assist the collateral damage this disaster had wrought. Now with national politics making an even larger mess of a situation already steeped swathes of humanity’s biggest short-coming: The fear of the unknown.
These people were denied progress by their fragile egos, was it fair to help? Cwej thought for a moment. His mind on a coin’s edge, to help, or to leave? Was this even worth his time? He felt a shiver of mild annoyance, he’d been taken here against his will. Even the Superiors gave him some warning, some context! The moment ended, he’d decided.
He just couldn’t. This wasn’t his place, this wasn’t his choice, and most importantly, this wasn’t his Earth. He didn’t have the right. He had to find a way back.
The press conference ended about an hour and a half later, and Cwej would be lying if he said he hadn’t gotten tired of the blue sky. Why couldn’t it be a gray, similar to his Vicinity? Why couldn’t it be multicolored or pink or something?
The overhead layer of blue that enveloped the world he now stood on reminded Chris of the curved and imprisoning dome of the City Firmament on the Base of Operations. Even the Vicinity was preferable to those options. He’d traded one prison for another, for another.
Hailing a taxi, Chris reeled in the cool leather seat, the imagery rushing by in thick, blurred colors. The sights and sounds of this Earth whirled by.
It was all too overwhelming, his senses flaring into overload. The grass felt too green, the White House felt too white, and the cab, now stopped, seemed too yellow. Chris fell out into the streets in a bundle, the piercing green of the dollar notes he handed to the driver winked knowingly at him. The rush of the many colors pounded his very essence.
The grass is always greener on the other side, as the saying goes, but that doesn’t always mean it’s a better shade.
He collapsed on the bed of a hotel room several minutes later, in the same way a kid would shape their body to make a snow angel. Perhaps when he got back to the Totality, snow would be what he needed to see on his next mission.
“Scotch, please.” He held out his hand in anticipation for a drink. It did not come.
Oh. Right.
Chris sighed into the silence of his hotel room. It hit him, the blue of the sky, the green of the grass, the brown wooden panels in his room for the night. The colors persisted. They were permanent. Chris admitted defeat.
I might be here for a while.
After a few mournful moments, Chris decided he’d make the most of his terrestrial exile. He wondered if Uber existed on this version of Earth. He imagined the undulating chorus of human conversation, the flowing taps of booze, and most of all, the comfort of company. Chris imagined contact; the warmth of humanity against his skin, that what was he needed.
Perhaps he was to go to a bar? Gay, straight, any communal place with the possible allure of meeting others with whom he could share his soul for some time. Chris wondered if he would venture into the wilderness of DC’s Nightlife if he found more than just a night of passion…hell, maybe he’d meet just the right person (or people) and be able to go on a proper date?
I might be here for a while, Cwej repeated the newly formed mantra in his head.
He looked up at the ceiling, far away he felt a prescient shiver, as if a great storm was growing strong on a distant horizon…
Realizing for the first time how itchy his human clothes were, Chris’ mind flitted back to his present circumstances. He wished he could wear that skin-tight armor he’d so loved, he wished tha--
Darkness. It’s getting darker. Am I going back home? Is this sleep? Am I finally going to drift off into real, honest-to-Goddess dreams? Is this all just one big dream?
The thoughts fumbled around in the fog of his extracorporeal brain. Perhaps by luck, or by the influence of whatever powerful force had dragged him through the cascading vortexes of the Bifrost, Cwej rolled over on the TV remote. And in the flicker of a screen, Cwej lost hope for the world.
Chaos.
Death.
Burning.
Chris Cwej, the fool, regarded the piles of images flooding the screen of the television. Not even the most grotesque horror film would show such horrific desolation of human lives… Never before had he seen so many bodies squeezed into one frame of film. Cwej opened his mouth, half-expecting a scream, but all he could muster was a stifled retch at sight of the images that burned onto his retinas.Yet he couldn’t keep his gaze away. The tragedy was captivating in its obscenity.
This was real.
This had happened, was happening, now. These scenes of death and terror weren’t some distorted fiction, Chris saw the caption on the footage, it was a live news channel, streaming the announcement of this imminent extinction, beaming a barrage of visual depictions of this unmitigated tragedy straight to the screens of the screaming American populace.
Live.
He pressed the power button. The room kept getting darker… and darker… and darker… His lights went out…
No amount of missions could have prepared him for what he experienced beyond the darkness.
Drifting through the void of his mind, Chris at last heard them… Contact…
Hey love, still on for tomorrow? Let’s have a quiet one, just get something from the Chippy and watch some telly at your flat. xx
Splendid. I think that’s a perfectly reasonable time! All’s on track for our official reopening. Let’s shoot for tomorrow.
Night son! Remember Luke’s in the morning! He has that cool old computer there. You’ll love it, mate! See ya tomorrow!!
I can’t believe it’s starting tomorrow! I’ve set a reminder for when it airs. Can’t wait to watch it!
That reoccurring word…It haunted Chris, the promise that would never come: “Tomorrow.”
Cwej snapped out of his trance. He felt like he was back in the digital realm.
He stopped to think. Those words, those voices, seemingly incongruous messages… Chippy, flat, morning…
Then it hit him.
He had just witnessed the final words of British civilians—their final messages to their loved ones. These were ones that died, the ones who were burnt alive by the incoming disturbance in the atmosphere crashing down. He heard thunder, felt the shake of the Earth, and with that he knew that there’d been an impact, some juggernaut smashing into the surface of that tiny island and shattering the crust of the world, killing millions in the process.
He’d once been to a Universe where only Great Britain survived. Now they were the first to go. He felt himself shedding a tear for those poor people, for that stubborn nation that had survived two World Wars, for all the culture that would never see tomorrow.
This was the same meteor he’d seen on his phone, that all of humanity saw in the sky. He knew that no spatial bodies could circle back. He knew this for a fact. Something had to have been piloting that asteroid into the exosphere, all the way to the surface. It was a deliberate attack!
The reason it was so dark would’ve been because of the brief period whereby the meteor shielded the Sun.
So this was why he was planted here. It was a cry for help. To stop the culprit who had planned this out. To find the terrorists that’d destroyed this planet…
“Hey, if you can hear me, thank you for sending me here. I promise to do all I can to stop them.”
2
Chaos Matter. Found exclusively on the planet Alma, Chaos Matter had been added to the Universal periodic table. Anyone born on a level 15 planet would remember… well, nothing, actually. The whole discovery was very boring unless you were one of the few people who knew about the dangerous effects of it.
If calibrated correctly, this foreign matter would destroy civilizations, wipe out entire planets, exactly as the name implied. Oceans would become waterfalls and cascade off the edge of any spacial body it touched. Thecreatures on such a mass would have their floors and walls switch places, a gravity shift of ninety degrees for all living matter. If they had nothing to stand on, they’d tumble into the vacuum of space, suffocating.
As they’d move away from the chaotic side-gravity of the other matter, they would fall back into a deadly orbit around the weirdly distorted atmosphere of the world— its “devil plumes” of atmosphere peaking into space in two places like horns. In time, the interference between normal gravity and Chaos-Gravity could leave the atmosphere thinned, even the safer places left gasping and increasingly uninhabitable.
This was tested and immediately classified. At that time, I still had no idea where it all went, but now, after having seen it barreling toward Earth, I know that it wasn’t a meteor. All the Chaos Matter made it to whichever Universe I’d found myself in, and its pilots crashed it straight into the world.
Heinous, disgusting, horrible. Using a forbidden fruit of the Totality to kill billions and harm so many others. That’s what I thought until it got a whole lot more complicated...
Washington DC in ruins. The Washington Monument became less of an obelisk and more of a strange beak from a sort of malformed tucan. The White House, Cwej could see, was breaking apart, becoming nothing but scaffolding. Buildings are not made to support their own weight from the side. Luckily, this far from the impact, the effects were not total, and what he was seeing was a mixture of two gravities fighting each other. The sky was full of water, torn from the Atlantic which, striking the coast, had arched and flung itself into the depths of the heavens.
Bridges became ladders, with no support from the gravity to keep them structurally sound. Trees were also shifted ninety degrees, crushing lumberjacks under their weight. Cwej could see those who had human anatomy— basically everyone but his altered body—becoming disoriented by the sudden change in the gravity belt, the fluid in their ear canals that kept them balanced suddenly becoming confused, making them crash through windows, falling straight out as if they were jumping on purpose.
Just three minutes. That’s all it took to get like this. Cwej was now standing on a wall, avoiding the bed that broke free of its frame and came at him with a thud. The bed eventually fell out of the window, which gave him an idea.
Alright, let’s see. There are still plenty of trees and grass. Perhaps if I claw my way up… No. I can’t make it to the White House, or hell, even the courtyard, I’ll never be able to. It’s a ninety-degree climb, not even a Disney roller coaster is a full uphill climb. But…
Unless I do it, I’ll be stuck on the wall. I can’t help in any way if I don’t.
Christopher Cwej, digging his fingers into dirt to escape gravity. Christopher Cwej, swinging from vines like he was cruking Tarzan. Christopher Cwej, humming a tune he’d picked up from his time as an Adjudicator as the world ended.
Thanks a lot, Isaac Newton, thought Cwej, Should have stuck with alchemy.
Chris was in awe that a bit of spare regen energy existed in his fingers. He’d have to figure out why later. He directed it at the tips of his fingers. With a thought, he made his nails stretch out and harden, twisting them into claws long enough to dig into the ground-which-was-a-wall. He always hated his nails getting too long, but 30th-century life had seen him take on much, much weirder shapes even before the Superiors had found him.
Perhaps he was born just a millennium after his time.
Crawling up… and up… and up…
Until…
Around twenty minutes later, Cwej made it to the road. This was going to be much more difficult, as he couldn’t dig his nails through solid asphalt. He’d have to grab onto the curb. In a desperate scramble, Chris persisted, sweat horizontally dripping from his upturned brow. He had to persevere. Giving up couldn’t be an option yet, surely? He wouldn’t be responsible for allowing the villains who’d inflicted this havoc upon Earth to escape and kill again. Ignoring his protesting body, Chris endured the pain.
Chris bent his hands till his finger joints ached. He grabbed onto the pavement with too much force, skinning his elbows on the edge and going right through his suit.
The pain was unexpected, even though it was barely anything. He tried grabbing at whatever he could get a hold of, scrambling like a small, unsuspecting child drawing straws. As it turned out, the proverbial straw he chose to claw at was the short one.
He tumbled through the sky. A few of his bones broke on the occasional impact with the wall-ground, and he screamed out in agony as each bout of whiplash through the dark, grayish sky hit him full-force.
His spinal column twisted and molded into shapes only regen soldiers back in the War had accomplished, and he could taste the blood spurting out of his mouth. He eventually grabbed hold of a fire hydrant after six or so tumbles and several vertebrae shattered.
Panting, nearly dead, wishing he was never born, Chris found himself on the verge of letting go. Perhaps the second time around would take him back to the Vicinity. Perhaps the girl from the Solar Kingdom was there, brown hair in a braid, marble rolling around in her palm, still handing out banana smoothies to those who wanted them. He should have said goodbye, but duty called him elsewhere. Perhaps he would have to slide back on his rear for twenty-eight more days, the thought of which scared him enough to regain his grasp on the cold red handle of the hydrant.
His bones rapidly started to slot back into place under his skin, and he felt them restoring themselves with the precision of his old Wartime Cwej-form. He was a regen soldier. His body melded back together with otherworldly tendrils sucking the bones into a heap of internal Play-Doh, a mound of tissue covered by skin.
Cwej was in awe. Not because the world was ending and eight billion people would eventually suffer far worse blows than he did, not because of how lucky he was, but because of the implications that had just sprung from the fall he endured. The result…
He wasn’t some alternative Universe variant, he was put here by Them. He was in an alternative Universe, and he was a clone, a Cwej hanging onto a fire hydrant by a single hand, the other hand too busy touching the back of his neck, where his mind transporter used to be. None of this made sense…
He was in a cave. There was no Vicinity here, he was certain of that. If he had pressed the point on his neck while in the Totality, he would have travelled, mind and soul, into his gray, dull, atmospheric base of operations.
But no, he was in a cave. The temperature gave him all the information he needed to determine that he was in the inner mantle of Earth. Was this… Was this his Earth? No, it couldn’t be. He could feel a slight tip, a shift as it were, but nowhere near as strong as the surface. This was the same Earth he’d been in before, just deeper down. He had fallen further than he thought…
The entire cavern he was standing in was lit a sickly green, as stalactites precariously lofted above the buried room carved out from what he assumed was a tectonic plate too low to properly manipulate the crust. In the corner of his eye, Chris noticed some upright tubes…
And froze.
Cwejen, rows and rows of Cwejen. Lined up from Prime to Plus to Magnus.
This didn’t make any sense!
His mind and soul must have been shunted into the nearest Cwej body on this Earth, scattering his new body’s previous consciousness into the ether; just as he had done when he first arrived in this realm, his mind having hijacked the now-lost body of the reporter Cwej he’d inhabited only moments ago.
It seemed strangely convenient just how many Cwej-forms existed on this world, not just within this underground bunker. He wasn’t going to disregard his good fortune though, no matter how suspect this scenario seemed.
Just his luck, he thought, that his new body had belonged to a Guard-Cwej…A guard for this strange underground operation. Where was he, anyway? Was this some higher-project he was never briefed on?
Why were there so many Cwejen in stasis? His Superiors wouldn’t lie to him about ending production on his species, would They?
He rushed over to the computer screen attached to the wall, locked-up memories hazily stirred, the sight of the wall-screen sent shivers of recollection through Chris, it reminded him of the faded visage of an ancient scanner, once owned by that Evil Renegade…
Chris had the blurred image of his erstwhile once-captor: that conniving figure, a timeship pilot, who had long-ago spirited Cwej away.
Cwej focused on the monitor. He worked a controller, pressed a few buttons on the screen itself, typed in his Cwej-Identification, and watched as a video started playing.
If calibrated correctly, this foreign matter would destroy civilizations, wipe out entire planets, exactly as the name implied. Oceans would become waterfalls and cascade off the edge of any spacial body it touched. Thecreatures on such a mass would have their floors and walls switch places, a gravity shift of ninety degrees for all living matter. If they had nothing to stand on, they’d tumble into the vacuum of space, suffocating.
As they’d move away from the chaotic side-gravity of the other matter, they would fall back into a deadly orbit around the weirdly distorted atmosphere of the world— its “devil plumes” of atmosphere peaking into space in two places like horns. In time, the interference between normal gravity and Chaos-Gravity could leave the atmosphere thinned, even the safer places left gasping and increasingly uninhabitable.
This was tested and immediately classified. At that time, I still had no idea where it all went, but now, after having seen it barreling toward Earth, I know that it wasn’t a meteor. All the Chaos Matter made it to whichever Universe I’d found myself in, and its pilots crashed it straight into the world.
Heinous, disgusting, horrible. Using a forbidden fruit of the Totality to kill billions and harm so many others. That’s what I thought until it got a whole lot more complicated...
Washington DC in ruins. The Washington Monument became less of an obelisk and more of a strange beak from a sort of malformed tucan. The White House, Cwej could see, was breaking apart, becoming nothing but scaffolding. Buildings are not made to support their own weight from the side. Luckily, this far from the impact, the effects were not total, and what he was seeing was a mixture of two gravities fighting each other. The sky was full of water, torn from the Atlantic which, striking the coast, had arched and flung itself into the depths of the heavens.
Bridges became ladders, with no support from the gravity to keep them structurally sound. Trees were also shifted ninety degrees, crushing lumberjacks under their weight. Cwej could see those who had human anatomy— basically everyone but his altered body—becoming disoriented by the sudden change in the gravity belt, the fluid in their ear canals that kept them balanced suddenly becoming confused, making them crash through windows, falling straight out as if they were jumping on purpose.
Just three minutes. That’s all it took to get like this. Cwej was now standing on a wall, avoiding the bed that broke free of its frame and came at him with a thud. The bed eventually fell out of the window, which gave him an idea.
Alright, let’s see. There are still plenty of trees and grass. Perhaps if I claw my way up… No. I can’t make it to the White House, or hell, even the courtyard, I’ll never be able to. It’s a ninety-degree climb, not even a Disney roller coaster is a full uphill climb. But…
Unless I do it, I’ll be stuck on the wall. I can’t help in any way if I don’t.
Christopher Cwej, digging his fingers into dirt to escape gravity. Christopher Cwej, swinging from vines like he was cruking Tarzan. Christopher Cwej, humming a tune he’d picked up from his time as an Adjudicator as the world ended.
Thanks a lot, Isaac Newton, thought Cwej, Should have stuck with alchemy.
Chris was in awe that a bit of spare regen energy existed in his fingers. He’d have to figure out why later. He directed it at the tips of his fingers. With a thought, he made his nails stretch out and harden, twisting them into claws long enough to dig into the ground-which-was-a-wall. He always hated his nails getting too long, but 30th-century life had seen him take on much, much weirder shapes even before the Superiors had found him.
Perhaps he was born just a millennium after his time.
Crawling up… and up… and up…
Until…
Around twenty minutes later, Cwej made it to the road. This was going to be much more difficult, as he couldn’t dig his nails through solid asphalt. He’d have to grab onto the curb. In a desperate scramble, Chris persisted, sweat horizontally dripping from his upturned brow. He had to persevere. Giving up couldn’t be an option yet, surely? He wouldn’t be responsible for allowing the villains who’d inflicted this havoc upon Earth to escape and kill again. Ignoring his protesting body, Chris endured the pain.
Chris bent his hands till his finger joints ached. He grabbed onto the pavement with too much force, skinning his elbows on the edge and going right through his suit.
The pain was unexpected, even though it was barely anything. He tried grabbing at whatever he could get a hold of, scrambling like a small, unsuspecting child drawing straws. As it turned out, the proverbial straw he chose to claw at was the short one.
He tumbled through the sky. A few of his bones broke on the occasional impact with the wall-ground, and he screamed out in agony as each bout of whiplash through the dark, grayish sky hit him full-force.
His spinal column twisted and molded into shapes only regen soldiers back in the War had accomplished, and he could taste the blood spurting out of his mouth. He eventually grabbed hold of a fire hydrant after six or so tumbles and several vertebrae shattered.
Panting, nearly dead, wishing he was never born, Chris found himself on the verge of letting go. Perhaps the second time around would take him back to the Vicinity. Perhaps the girl from the Solar Kingdom was there, brown hair in a braid, marble rolling around in her palm, still handing out banana smoothies to those who wanted them. He should have said goodbye, but duty called him elsewhere. Perhaps he would have to slide back on his rear for twenty-eight more days, the thought of which scared him enough to regain his grasp on the cold red handle of the hydrant.
His bones rapidly started to slot back into place under his skin, and he felt them restoring themselves with the precision of his old Wartime Cwej-form. He was a regen soldier. His body melded back together with otherworldly tendrils sucking the bones into a heap of internal Play-Doh, a mound of tissue covered by skin.
Cwej was in awe. Not because the world was ending and eight billion people would eventually suffer far worse blows than he did, not because of how lucky he was, but because of the implications that had just sprung from the fall he endured. The result…
He wasn’t some alternative Universe variant, he was put here by Them. He was in an alternative Universe, and he was a clone, a Cwej hanging onto a fire hydrant by a single hand, the other hand too busy touching the back of his neck, where his mind transporter used to be. None of this made sense…
He was in a cave. There was no Vicinity here, he was certain of that. If he had pressed the point on his neck while in the Totality, he would have travelled, mind and soul, into his gray, dull, atmospheric base of operations.
But no, he was in a cave. The temperature gave him all the information he needed to determine that he was in the inner mantle of Earth. Was this… Was this his Earth? No, it couldn’t be. He could feel a slight tip, a shift as it were, but nowhere near as strong as the surface. This was the same Earth he’d been in before, just deeper down. He had fallen further than he thought…
The entire cavern he was standing in was lit a sickly green, as stalactites precariously lofted above the buried room carved out from what he assumed was a tectonic plate too low to properly manipulate the crust. In the corner of his eye, Chris noticed some upright tubes…
And froze.
Cwejen, rows and rows of Cwejen. Lined up from Prime to Plus to Magnus.
This didn’t make any sense!
His mind and soul must have been shunted into the nearest Cwej body on this Earth, scattering his new body’s previous consciousness into the ether; just as he had done when he first arrived in this realm, his mind having hijacked the now-lost body of the reporter Cwej he’d inhabited only moments ago.
It seemed strangely convenient just how many Cwej-forms existed on this world, not just within this underground bunker. He wasn’t going to disregard his good fortune though, no matter how suspect this scenario seemed.
Just his luck, he thought, that his new body had belonged to a Guard-Cwej…A guard for this strange underground operation. Where was he, anyway? Was this some higher-project he was never briefed on?
Why were there so many Cwejen in stasis? His Superiors wouldn’t lie to him about ending production on his species, would They?
He rushed over to the computer screen attached to the wall, locked-up memories hazily stirred, the sight of the wall-screen sent shivers of recollection through Chris, it reminded him of the faded visage of an ancient scanner, once owned by that Evil Renegade…
Chris had the blurred image of his erstwhile once-captor: that conniving figure, a timeship pilot, who had long-ago spirited Cwej away.
Cwej focused on the monitor. He worked a controller, pressed a few buttons on the screen itself, typed in his Cwej-Identification, and watched as a video started playing.
|`~Welcome, Cwejen, to your new life with us, your Superiors! We have pre-programmed you with necessary instructions regarding the planned Takeover of Dawn 1,027. Please line up, single file, and be sure to type in your separate Cwej-Identification, followed by the number 4. We will be with you shortly upon you hearing this message.~`|
“Takeover of Daw—”
Dawn 1,027? He couldn’t remember hearing about any world by that name, but it reminded him of the naming conventions of…
Oh. Cruk me.
“Computer,” barked Chris in an urgent flurry, “Give me all the information you can on the 10,000 Dawns. Now!”
Dawn 1,027? He couldn’t remember hearing about any world by that name, but it reminded him of the naming conventions of…
Oh. Cruk me.
“Computer,” barked Chris in an urgent flurry, “Give me all the information you can on the 10,000 Dawns. Now!”
|`~ The 10,000 Dawns are a total of ten thousand alternative Universes, living alongside one another and occasionally bleeding into each other. The Christmas Needle Agreement, with all the Forces of Power that were needed being present, allowed for harmony to be restored throughout the Multiverse and beyond.
The 10,000 Dawns are reigned over by an inferior race of creatures with primitive conceptual threading abilities, the Firmament, who use a method of travelling through space on resizable moons, known as Foces, through the Bifrost. A ridiculous and underdeveloped group, they have broken the Agreement and We are retaliating.~`|
The 10,000 Dawns are reigned over by an inferior race of creatures with primitive conceptual threading abilities, the Firmament, who use a method of travelling through space on resizable moons, known as Foces, through the Bifrost. A ridiculous and underdeveloped group, they have broken the Agreement and We are retaliating.~`|
“Wait, so, okay, uh, hold on here, just one moment—how did the Firmament break the Treaty thing, and why?”
|`~Insufficient data.~`|
“No, that’s a lie. You know the answer,” Chris said sternly.
|`~Insufficient data.~`|
Chris slowly looked toward the glass tubes. Cwejen lined the walls for miles. Were the Superiors behind the meteor? All he could do was try and piece together the puzzle.
The Cwej-form he was using had been let out early to make sure the humans were unaware of the upcoming destruction of their Earth. He had beamed into the body for whatever reason, from whatever force, and had woken up where the last Cwej had left off. He couldn’t save the Earth.
Maybe the Superiors hadn’t been honest with him? Maybe he had been lied to this whole time, along with all the other Cwejen and beings doing Their bidding.
Cwej-V, that’s what They’d called him. The V could stand for Vicinity, of course, but it could also stand for… Victim…
He had enough. Cwej didn’t want to be a victim anymore. What was the point of stringently adhering to his Superiors orders? If he remained compliant, he’d be just as responsible for this destruction as those who had unleashed it. He wasn’t going to take it any longer.
Cwej was going to save Earth.
After all, this was now his Earth as much as the Totality’s Earth, and since he had apparently been deceived all along, he wasn’t going to let Them tell him where he belonged any longer. His new destiny lay in the stars of this realm, it lay in the righteous cradle of his chosen morality. The Superiors weren’t so superior, Cwej decided.
Chris was in the right. He also had a plan… as well as having enough weapons and toxic waste to wipe off what little life was left on this Goddess-forsaken planet, the Superiors also had military-grade spaceships, scathe-like carriages that could sweep Chris away from this sunken base…
The Superiors probably wouldn’t miss one, if someone were to take it.
Not too long afterwards, with the burning thrust of the Superiors’ push-away engines, Cwej flew straight out of the tunnel that had been drilled from the inner mantle all the way through to the surface. He guided his ship straight up, which any pilot worth their salt would tell you is never good. Pressure gauges fluctuated, blinking, blithering and bleeping until they didn’t, yadda yadda yadda. Rocket science and the technique of piloting was more a chore for Cwej than a dashing escape.
Chris had become used to g-force by year three of his existence.
The green tint to the walls of the inner mantle quickly flew by him, faster and faster. The pressure made his ears pop immediately. He could feel it in his throat. His face was blown against the upholstery and drooped when he reached the surface minutes later. At the speed he was going, he could have fried the boosters if his Superiors hadn’t programmed him to his level of care and precision.
He was high above the clouds, racing into the stratosphere, watching all the scenery of Earth zooming past his ship like it was trying to avoid him. Perhaps it was because he’d stolen the ship. The sky turned a deep black, a shade he knew far too well from the twenty-eight days before his newfound adventure. It was lit with more stars than his bandwidth could count, even if he tried.
As his ship turned, he could see the devastation of this Earth more clearly. Perhaps a thousand miles around the impact point—and spreading—the effects were at their strongest, the sheer strength of the rock underlying the British Isles no longer sufficed to hold them. Not just people; forests and buildings were falling sideways, but the landscape itself was smearing, like a wet painting being brushed with a heavy hand. The chaotic gravity, operating in lines of force tangential to the natural contour of normal space-time, flung the broken bones of Britain into the sky. The effect was like a dark fan of material, exploding outward as if the Earth were a plum pudding on a saucer of black bone around which wisps of air and water boiled. The effect was spreading, and—unless it could be halted—there would be no survivors.
The darkness of space on one side, the darkness of the debris on the other made it impossible to track the orbit of any ship that might be manipulating the meteor. The planet’s own satellite network was burning in a cascade of collisions, and the peaks and troughs of the gravity interference were flinging away or dragging down, even those that were equipped with collision avoidance devices. If the meteor could be removed, this damage alone would take years to undo. Against the darkness, against the speckled burning of the end of the Satellite Age, Cwej strained his eyes in vain—for something of a different magnitude or nature.
Cwej knew that the scanners showed no sign of a timeship in this Dawn, but how was he supposed to know the machine wasn’t lying to him as well? After all, it was designed by Them.
Then, it started to come back to him, the little tips and tricks he’d picked up during his first training flight with one of the other Superior agents. That guy had been a bit of an odd duck, if Chris was being honest. Lots of tendrils and bugs crawling through his orifices.
Didn’t seem to care, though.
The man had had a trick with scanners. The thing to remember, he’d said, spitting out a beetle or two, is that what they show isn’t what you’d see if you could stick your head out. Everything is an approximation, and you can change what is emphasized.
Chris told the computer to make the Earth transparent, to hide the visible, to mute the final flares of the dying satellites. To show diagrammatically the interactions of gravity itself. The sphere / funnel—depending on how your eyes were oriented to the normal flow, the flowing distortion--proceeded from a specific point, and above that point, the still bubble. They had been cunning, these slaughterous bastards. Their ship was under power, holding itself near the turning Earth, but They had engineered their chaotic meteor’s gravity to avoid Their own ship, so as to only have to deal with one set of forces. It made it so much easier for their pilots, but it also made them detectable.
Cwej saw, hovering over the impact site of the meteor, a small, cylindrical ship, boosters suspending it stationarily in a single spot, allowing it not to be pulled in by the now useless concept of gravity.
That’s my ticket, Cwej thought. He made his move. His ship skirted across the planet’s exterior lengthwise, angling upward. It felt like a crane game he was playing, and he was so close to receiving his prize. So very close.
He grabbed a microphone from out of its compartment, an oxy-norm mic that could allow those hearing a message, even without oxygen, to carry the noise. He didn’t expect the Superiors to have such a primitive device within Their spaceships, but maybe he only now noticed it because of the blinders They’d placed on him.
He put it toward his mouth and spoke. Cwej’s voice rose through space, a bellow carried across the hanging vacuum around him… “You thought you’d seen the last of me, didn’t You? You cruking evil, despicable parasites will never learn. Why build anything more, when You have so much to destroy? Stop kidding Yourselves. What’s the point in supremacy if all You do is kill?!! You have no say when it comes to who’s earned being superior. You haven’t earned anything, You wove the history of the Universe’s structure, but employ agents to maintain Your reality–all while decreeing anything other than the Totality You created as inferior. You’re nothing, nothing but worms feasting on the corpse of possibility. If anything, the ones You control, Your blissfully unaware subjects, they’re all superior for the very fact of having to put up with You Lot!”
No response. That was odd. If it truly were the Superiors who’d enacted this chaos, his ship would have been shot down by now… Were They busy with something? What in reality could be holding Them up from destroying him?
Not that he was complaining or anything.
Cwej glanced across the ship’s exterior and with a panicked glare, immediately noticed the docking bay of the ship jutting out from its core. His vision zoomed across the hellish landscape, cold and lifeless bodies hovering in the void as if glued in place. The fiery remains of Earth were obscuring the cause of the mayhem.
Perhaps it hadn’t even been that big of a meteor?
Maybe it was as small as a pebble but had somehow registered as if it were a behemoth on Earth’s primitive satellites.
Imagine what Chaos Matter would do to Earth had it been discovered in more abundant quantities…
Cwej thrust his ship forward through space, docking into the small hole in the cylindrical ship’s side. There was enough space in the docking port to fit his one-man cruiser. As his vessel entered the larger ship, a new sound met Chris’ ears…
A quiet chuckling was the first thing he heard. Lights and buttons across the narrow walls flickered different colors in a pulsating sequence, and the closer he got, the eerier the atmosphere of this ship became….
Journeying by foot within the bowels of the space-craft, Cwej knew he was wrong. Defensively holding his stolen blaster to his chest, Chris braced himself…That wasn’t laughter he heard within the ship…
A motion-activated door in front of him slid open. As he inched ever-so-slightly closer, arching over the wall that pressed against his back, Cwej could clearly hear that the ominous sound were mournful weeps. He had mistaken crying for laughter.
Chris crooked his head. Looking into the room, he spotted two slumped beings.
They were sitting morosely on the floor, positioned in front of a large window that showed a clear picture of the Earth in ruins.
Could these creatures be enslaved humans, forced to watch their species be killed? Cwej thought.
These weren’t slaves…
Chris noticed the two sobbing creatures were not shackled to the ground. They sat free and limp and were simply slouched on the bare floor. They each had four arms, which still wasn’t as unusual as the red smoke emanating from their pores.
Definitely not human, then. Hm. Perhaps the Superiors had captured them during another one of their Universal pillages? It wasn’t beneath the Superiors to abduct young aliens; it was essentially Their lifeblood…
Perhaps this poor pair of multi-limbed creatures were weeping over the devastation wrought upon the Earth? Maybe they were particularly sensitive to such large-scale loss of life?
Cwej slowly crept over towards the two huddled beings, one resembling a short-haired long-faced young woman, and the other one with a chiseled androgyne face and flowing strands of long hair.
The sunlight coming from the window in front of them illuminated their bodies. They were close, holding each other in pure anguish.
Their sweat-stained clothes were reminiscent of what Earthlings would call “vests over button-down shirts,” though tailored to fit the aesthetic of the four-armed red-aura-surrounded creatures.
Their sobs resonated throughout the gloomy metallic halls of the seemingly empty ship.
Where were the Superiors? They had to be here somewhere…
Cwej rushed over to the two beings; they had to be victims, trapped by the cruelty of the Superiors.
Not caring about anything except keeping them safe and finding the Superiors as soon as he could, Cwej introduced himself with a startling “Hey.”
The pair of four-armed creatures snapped their heads around, green tears in their eyes.
“In case I’m interrupting something, I apologize.” The beings both just blinked at him. “Great,” Cwej continued nonchalántly, “now that we’ve got that sorted out well and good, let’s get outta here. I have no idea who you two are, but I won’t stand to let Them kill anyone else.”
Their heads cocked in unison.
“W-What?” The androgynous, long-haired four-arm said. “Wh-what do you mean Them?”
Cwej was dumbfounded. “Uh, you know ‘Those Lot Up There,’ The Shadow People, The House-Dwellers, The Lords of Jewel… Come on, you must know Them…the Superiors?”
The tears sizzled off the faces of the puzzled pair, like water splashing on a hot stove and hissing away. They looked at each other with disgruntled confusion.
“What does that mean?!” snarked the short-haired female of the pair, through her vanishing green tears.
And then… It struck him.
Cwej recalled all the manifold protocols of the Superiors, yet this cataclysm lacked the precise and detached methods the Superiors were so well-known for employing in all their dealings.
The ship, its crude and primitive design. The, frankly rather dull-looking, four-armed pilots. The crying… It was known the Superiors hated crying…
“You… You did this?” murmured Chris in horror.
The two quivered their lips, and they started tearing up again, looking despondently at the floor. Their shameful silence was all the confirmation Chris needed… The truth was all-too clear now…
The Cwej-form he was using had been let out early to make sure the humans were unaware of the upcoming destruction of their Earth. He had beamed into the body for whatever reason, from whatever force, and had woken up where the last Cwej had left off. He couldn’t save the Earth.
Maybe the Superiors hadn’t been honest with him? Maybe he had been lied to this whole time, along with all the other Cwejen and beings doing Their bidding.
Cwej-V, that’s what They’d called him. The V could stand for Vicinity, of course, but it could also stand for… Victim…
He had enough. Cwej didn’t want to be a victim anymore. What was the point of stringently adhering to his Superiors orders? If he remained compliant, he’d be just as responsible for this destruction as those who had unleashed it. He wasn’t going to take it any longer.
Cwej was going to save Earth.
After all, this was now his Earth as much as the Totality’s Earth, and since he had apparently been deceived all along, he wasn’t going to let Them tell him where he belonged any longer. His new destiny lay in the stars of this realm, it lay in the righteous cradle of his chosen morality. The Superiors weren’t so superior, Cwej decided.
Chris was in the right. He also had a plan… as well as having enough weapons and toxic waste to wipe off what little life was left on this Goddess-forsaken planet, the Superiors also had military-grade spaceships, scathe-like carriages that could sweep Chris away from this sunken base…
The Superiors probably wouldn’t miss one, if someone were to take it.
Not too long afterwards, with the burning thrust of the Superiors’ push-away engines, Cwej flew straight out of the tunnel that had been drilled from the inner mantle all the way through to the surface. He guided his ship straight up, which any pilot worth their salt would tell you is never good. Pressure gauges fluctuated, blinking, blithering and bleeping until they didn’t, yadda yadda yadda. Rocket science and the technique of piloting was more a chore for Cwej than a dashing escape.
Chris had become used to g-force by year three of his existence.
The green tint to the walls of the inner mantle quickly flew by him, faster and faster. The pressure made his ears pop immediately. He could feel it in his throat. His face was blown against the upholstery and drooped when he reached the surface minutes later. At the speed he was going, he could have fried the boosters if his Superiors hadn’t programmed him to his level of care and precision.
He was high above the clouds, racing into the stratosphere, watching all the scenery of Earth zooming past his ship like it was trying to avoid him. Perhaps it was because he’d stolen the ship. The sky turned a deep black, a shade he knew far too well from the twenty-eight days before his newfound adventure. It was lit with more stars than his bandwidth could count, even if he tried.
As his ship turned, he could see the devastation of this Earth more clearly. Perhaps a thousand miles around the impact point—and spreading—the effects were at their strongest, the sheer strength of the rock underlying the British Isles no longer sufficed to hold them. Not just people; forests and buildings were falling sideways, but the landscape itself was smearing, like a wet painting being brushed with a heavy hand. The chaotic gravity, operating in lines of force tangential to the natural contour of normal space-time, flung the broken bones of Britain into the sky. The effect was like a dark fan of material, exploding outward as if the Earth were a plum pudding on a saucer of black bone around which wisps of air and water boiled. The effect was spreading, and—unless it could be halted—there would be no survivors.
The darkness of space on one side, the darkness of the debris on the other made it impossible to track the orbit of any ship that might be manipulating the meteor. The planet’s own satellite network was burning in a cascade of collisions, and the peaks and troughs of the gravity interference were flinging away or dragging down, even those that were equipped with collision avoidance devices. If the meteor could be removed, this damage alone would take years to undo. Against the darkness, against the speckled burning of the end of the Satellite Age, Cwej strained his eyes in vain—for something of a different magnitude or nature.
Cwej knew that the scanners showed no sign of a timeship in this Dawn, but how was he supposed to know the machine wasn’t lying to him as well? After all, it was designed by Them.
Then, it started to come back to him, the little tips and tricks he’d picked up during his first training flight with one of the other Superior agents. That guy had been a bit of an odd duck, if Chris was being honest. Lots of tendrils and bugs crawling through his orifices.
Didn’t seem to care, though.
The man had had a trick with scanners. The thing to remember, he’d said, spitting out a beetle or two, is that what they show isn’t what you’d see if you could stick your head out. Everything is an approximation, and you can change what is emphasized.
Chris told the computer to make the Earth transparent, to hide the visible, to mute the final flares of the dying satellites. To show diagrammatically the interactions of gravity itself. The sphere / funnel—depending on how your eyes were oriented to the normal flow, the flowing distortion--proceeded from a specific point, and above that point, the still bubble. They had been cunning, these slaughterous bastards. Their ship was under power, holding itself near the turning Earth, but They had engineered their chaotic meteor’s gravity to avoid Their own ship, so as to only have to deal with one set of forces. It made it so much easier for their pilots, but it also made them detectable.
Cwej saw, hovering over the impact site of the meteor, a small, cylindrical ship, boosters suspending it stationarily in a single spot, allowing it not to be pulled in by the now useless concept of gravity.
That’s my ticket, Cwej thought. He made his move. His ship skirted across the planet’s exterior lengthwise, angling upward. It felt like a crane game he was playing, and he was so close to receiving his prize. So very close.
He grabbed a microphone from out of its compartment, an oxy-norm mic that could allow those hearing a message, even without oxygen, to carry the noise. He didn’t expect the Superiors to have such a primitive device within Their spaceships, but maybe he only now noticed it because of the blinders They’d placed on him.
He put it toward his mouth and spoke. Cwej’s voice rose through space, a bellow carried across the hanging vacuum around him… “You thought you’d seen the last of me, didn’t You? You cruking evil, despicable parasites will never learn. Why build anything more, when You have so much to destroy? Stop kidding Yourselves. What’s the point in supremacy if all You do is kill?!! You have no say when it comes to who’s earned being superior. You haven’t earned anything, You wove the history of the Universe’s structure, but employ agents to maintain Your reality–all while decreeing anything other than the Totality You created as inferior. You’re nothing, nothing but worms feasting on the corpse of possibility. If anything, the ones You control, Your blissfully unaware subjects, they’re all superior for the very fact of having to put up with You Lot!”
No response. That was odd. If it truly were the Superiors who’d enacted this chaos, his ship would have been shot down by now… Were They busy with something? What in reality could be holding Them up from destroying him?
Not that he was complaining or anything.
Cwej glanced across the ship’s exterior and with a panicked glare, immediately noticed the docking bay of the ship jutting out from its core. His vision zoomed across the hellish landscape, cold and lifeless bodies hovering in the void as if glued in place. The fiery remains of Earth were obscuring the cause of the mayhem.
Perhaps it hadn’t even been that big of a meteor?
Maybe it was as small as a pebble but had somehow registered as if it were a behemoth on Earth’s primitive satellites.
Imagine what Chaos Matter would do to Earth had it been discovered in more abundant quantities…
Cwej thrust his ship forward through space, docking into the small hole in the cylindrical ship’s side. There was enough space in the docking port to fit his one-man cruiser. As his vessel entered the larger ship, a new sound met Chris’ ears…
A quiet chuckling was the first thing he heard. Lights and buttons across the narrow walls flickered different colors in a pulsating sequence, and the closer he got, the eerier the atmosphere of this ship became….
Journeying by foot within the bowels of the space-craft, Cwej knew he was wrong. Defensively holding his stolen blaster to his chest, Chris braced himself…That wasn’t laughter he heard within the ship…
A motion-activated door in front of him slid open. As he inched ever-so-slightly closer, arching over the wall that pressed against his back, Cwej could clearly hear that the ominous sound were mournful weeps. He had mistaken crying for laughter.
Chris crooked his head. Looking into the room, he spotted two slumped beings.
They were sitting morosely on the floor, positioned in front of a large window that showed a clear picture of the Earth in ruins.
Could these creatures be enslaved humans, forced to watch their species be killed? Cwej thought.
These weren’t slaves…
Chris noticed the two sobbing creatures were not shackled to the ground. They sat free and limp and were simply slouched on the bare floor. They each had four arms, which still wasn’t as unusual as the red smoke emanating from their pores.
Definitely not human, then. Hm. Perhaps the Superiors had captured them during another one of their Universal pillages? It wasn’t beneath the Superiors to abduct young aliens; it was essentially Their lifeblood…
Perhaps this poor pair of multi-limbed creatures were weeping over the devastation wrought upon the Earth? Maybe they were particularly sensitive to such large-scale loss of life?
Cwej slowly crept over towards the two huddled beings, one resembling a short-haired long-faced young woman, and the other one with a chiseled androgyne face and flowing strands of long hair.
The sunlight coming from the window in front of them illuminated their bodies. They were close, holding each other in pure anguish.
Their sweat-stained clothes were reminiscent of what Earthlings would call “vests over button-down shirts,” though tailored to fit the aesthetic of the four-armed red-aura-surrounded creatures.
Their sobs resonated throughout the gloomy metallic halls of the seemingly empty ship.
Where were the Superiors? They had to be here somewhere…
Cwej rushed over to the two beings; they had to be victims, trapped by the cruelty of the Superiors.
Not caring about anything except keeping them safe and finding the Superiors as soon as he could, Cwej introduced himself with a startling “Hey.”
The pair of four-armed creatures snapped their heads around, green tears in their eyes.
“In case I’m interrupting something, I apologize.” The beings both just blinked at him. “Great,” Cwej continued nonchalántly, “now that we’ve got that sorted out well and good, let’s get outta here. I have no idea who you two are, but I won’t stand to let Them kill anyone else.”
Their heads cocked in unison.
“W-What?” The androgynous, long-haired four-arm said. “Wh-what do you mean Them?”
Cwej was dumbfounded. “Uh, you know ‘Those Lot Up There,’ The Shadow People, The House-Dwellers, The Lords of Jewel… Come on, you must know Them…the Superiors?”
The tears sizzled off the faces of the puzzled pair, like water splashing on a hot stove and hissing away. They looked at each other with disgruntled confusion.
“What does that mean?!” snarked the short-haired female of the pair, through her vanishing green tears.
And then… It struck him.
Cwej recalled all the manifold protocols of the Superiors, yet this cataclysm lacked the precise and detached methods the Superiors were so well-known for employing in all their dealings.
The ship, its crude and primitive design. The, frankly rather dull-looking, four-armed pilots. The crying… It was known the Superiors hated crying…
“You… You did this?” murmured Chris in horror.
The two quivered their lips, and they started tearing up again, looking despondently at the floor. Their shameful silence was all the confirmation Chris needed… The truth was all-too clear now…
3
You can only truly call yourself a friend when you’ve seen someone at their worst. The best of comrades can be formed from turbulent meetings… That’s my philosophy, in a way.
I hadn’t seen any version of Earth destroyed this badly in all my time hopping through alternate realities. But the few Earths that had come close to this level of destruction had been torn-to-the-ground by evildoers worse than… Well, worse than even the Evil Renegade himself. But let’s not get into that part of my life.
This was desolation. These were young quadrupedal humanoids, gullible juvenile beings whose traumatic upbringing on their home planet had created such conflicting genocidal whims in their hearts. They told me everything, the truth was revealed through guilt and tears. I actually have a recording of our conversation that I can convert to text, one second… I’m afraid it now only exists as a “conversational script” Let this dialogue educate you on the nature of forgiveness, and the consequences that will follow…
There.
I hadn’t seen any version of Earth destroyed this badly in all my time hopping through alternate realities. But the few Earths that had come close to this level of destruction had been torn-to-the-ground by evildoers worse than… Well, worse than even the Evil Renegade himself. But let’s not get into that part of my life.
This was desolation. These were young quadrupedal humanoids, gullible juvenile beings whose traumatic upbringing on their home planet had created such conflicting genocidal whims in their hearts. They told me everything, the truth was revealed through guilt and tears. I actually have a recording of our conversation that I can convert to text, one second… I’m afraid it now only exists as a “conversational script” Let this dialogue educate you on the nature of forgiveness, and the consequences that will follow…
There.
C: (Through gritted teeth)
What are your names?
L: (Murmuring sheepishly)
Larles and Kwol.
C:
Planet of origin?
K: (Quickly interjecting Chris)
Grigori…
C: (Sighing)
Mm-hm. And am I right in assuming that that’s your species name as well, in accordance with the Dawns’ naming conventions?
K:
Yes, that’s correct.
C: (The hint of anger in his voice barely contained)
Alright, now for the elephant in the room. Tell me about yourselves, what was so bad it made you decide to…To do all this??
K:
Well, we’re married, for a start.
C: (With a hint of rage-tinted sarcasm in his voice)
Ah, you blew up the world ’cos of marital strain? Okay. Go on.
L: (Obviously stressed, her words tumble out as she compulsively fiddles with her hair)
I’m a girl. Just telling you upfront, since a lot of less-perceptive people can’t tell due to my short hair. And Kwol is agender. They’re not too comfortable with talking currently, after all we’ve been through, but usually, they can’t shut up…
C: (Bored of Larles’ anxious rambles)
Good to know, yep. I’m dealing with a pair of genocidal maniacs, and they’ve both got nervous dispositions! Brilliant… I get the feeling you’re only talking out of necessity as well.
L: (Starting to sob again)
I guess you could say that… I just feel awful. I’m not sure I can…
K: (in hurried tones of reassurance)
I can tell him, don’t worry. He’s just here to help.
Look, Mister, our planet was right on the tip of the Picard Horn, and depending on our alignment, we could see the entry point from our Dawn to other Dawns and occasionally other entire Multiverses altogether. We’re a peaceful race of scholars… Were… We were a peaceful race of scholars.
C: (With trepidation)
“Were?” What happened to the other Grigori?
K: (Now proud, defiant in the defense of their actions)
… We happened.
We toppled the government, just for the hell of it. Look, it wasn’t the sorta government you’d want to stick around. They burnt every ounce of joy, they brainwashed us, manipulated us, forced us into acts that went against everything we stood for…From the moment we were born we were prisoners of our fate.
We were broken, our fragmented morals glued into rigid uniformity by school…And don’t get me started on the politics! Why’dya think we burnt the system down?? Oh, and our families… We really hated our “parents,” more like self-appointed torturers.
Our parents forced us together, a marriage by arrangement to strengthen familial bonds. We didn’t even know each other. But we hated the system, the system that destroyed itself by forcing Larles and I together.
We began setting up schemes, manipulating the governing forces in all-manners of ways, we destabilized the global currency!
We ended up deemed as criminals of the highest degree our planet had ever implemented. It would have been humbling, but…
C: (Almost moved by Kwol’s monologue, starting to understand)
But you had no time to be humble. You fled the planet because you didn’t want to face consequences for your outburst, is that right? I’m guessing you didn’t mean any of what you did but felt like you were too far gone to be forgiven.
L, K: (Both remain silent)
C: (His voice is now quiet, his demeanor shifting to reassuringly calm)
Listen, I understand childish fits of rage. How old are you two?
L: (Gulping, ready to explain)
We’re both twenty-three, in Earth years… We were taught so much about Earth… It was one of the only planets to appear in every Dawn, and our teachers took that as a sign of importance given to us by our Goddess. Earth was a symbol for the evil system that raised us…No matter what Dawn or Multiverse Earth occurred in, it always carried that seed of evil, it was always a pale blue vessel of temptation…Now, look at what we did to it.
Does this mean that we’re going against Her will? Are we, too, evil? What does “evil” even mean? Good and evil? That’s only two options! Where’s the middle? Where’s the gray??? When we saw the destruction it caused, that horrible matter of chaos, when we chose to use it… we couldn’t help but believe we were, we were evil…
C: (Interrupting)
That’s not--
L: (Starting to panic again)
No. Be quiet. I can’t do this, I can’t. Do this. Anymore. I don’t want to make these mistakes, I don’t want to be around, what have I done?? We’re monsters!! I’m sorry…
K: (Their façade of brazen sarcasm drops, we hear them sob in gentle tones)
Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry, but whenever she cries, I cry…
What are your names?
L: (Murmuring sheepishly)
Larles and Kwol.
C:
Planet of origin?
K: (Quickly interjecting Chris)
Grigori…
C: (Sighing)
Mm-hm. And am I right in assuming that that’s your species name as well, in accordance with the Dawns’ naming conventions?
K:
Yes, that’s correct.
C: (The hint of anger in his voice barely contained)
Alright, now for the elephant in the room. Tell me about yourselves, what was so bad it made you decide to…To do all this??
K:
Well, we’re married, for a start.
C: (With a hint of rage-tinted sarcasm in his voice)
Ah, you blew up the world ’cos of marital strain? Okay. Go on.
L: (Obviously stressed, her words tumble out as she compulsively fiddles with her hair)
I’m a girl. Just telling you upfront, since a lot of less-perceptive people can’t tell due to my short hair. And Kwol is agender. They’re not too comfortable with talking currently, after all we’ve been through, but usually, they can’t shut up…
C: (Bored of Larles’ anxious rambles)
Good to know, yep. I’m dealing with a pair of genocidal maniacs, and they’ve both got nervous dispositions! Brilliant… I get the feeling you’re only talking out of necessity as well.
L: (Starting to sob again)
I guess you could say that… I just feel awful. I’m not sure I can…
K: (in hurried tones of reassurance)
I can tell him, don’t worry. He’s just here to help.
Look, Mister, our planet was right on the tip of the Picard Horn, and depending on our alignment, we could see the entry point from our Dawn to other Dawns and occasionally other entire Multiverses altogether. We’re a peaceful race of scholars… Were… We were a peaceful race of scholars.
C: (With trepidation)
“Were?” What happened to the other Grigori?
K: (Now proud, defiant in the defense of their actions)
… We happened.
We toppled the government, just for the hell of it. Look, it wasn’t the sorta government you’d want to stick around. They burnt every ounce of joy, they brainwashed us, manipulated us, forced us into acts that went against everything we stood for…From the moment we were born we were prisoners of our fate.
We were broken, our fragmented morals glued into rigid uniformity by school…And don’t get me started on the politics! Why’dya think we burnt the system down?? Oh, and our families… We really hated our “parents,” more like self-appointed torturers.
Our parents forced us together, a marriage by arrangement to strengthen familial bonds. We didn’t even know each other. But we hated the system, the system that destroyed itself by forcing Larles and I together.
We began setting up schemes, manipulating the governing forces in all-manners of ways, we destabilized the global currency!
We ended up deemed as criminals of the highest degree our planet had ever implemented. It would have been humbling, but…
C: (Almost moved by Kwol’s monologue, starting to understand)
But you had no time to be humble. You fled the planet because you didn’t want to face consequences for your outburst, is that right? I’m guessing you didn’t mean any of what you did but felt like you were too far gone to be forgiven.
L, K: (Both remain silent)
C: (His voice is now quiet, his demeanor shifting to reassuringly calm)
Listen, I understand childish fits of rage. How old are you two?
L: (Gulping, ready to explain)
We’re both twenty-three, in Earth years… We were taught so much about Earth… It was one of the only planets to appear in every Dawn, and our teachers took that as a sign of importance given to us by our Goddess. Earth was a symbol for the evil system that raised us…No matter what Dawn or Multiverse Earth occurred in, it always carried that seed of evil, it was always a pale blue vessel of temptation…Now, look at what we did to it.
Does this mean that we’re going against Her will? Are we, too, evil? What does “evil” even mean? Good and evil? That’s only two options! Where’s the middle? Where’s the gray??? When we saw the destruction it caused, that horrible matter of chaos, when we chose to use it… we couldn’t help but believe we were, we were evil…
C: (Interrupting)
That’s not--
L: (Starting to panic again)
No. Be quiet. I can’t do this, I can’t. Do this. Anymore. I don’t want to make these mistakes, I don’t want to be around, what have I done?? We’re monsters!! I’m sorry…
K: (Their façade of brazen sarcasm drops, we hear them sob in gentle tones)
Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry, but whenever she cries, I cry…
…And this is where things went from civil confessions of genocide to crying and hugging, repeating soppy memories that were only used to comfort; loving gestures and desperate whimpers that would make even a Devolian feel sympathetic.
These were childish, impulsive beings. I’d met more zealots than a Vampyr has eyes, and Larles and Kwol, despite the double-holocausts they’d caused, were not zealots. It was apparent their souls could be saved… Hell, directly before this misadventure I’d condemned a bunch of Saturnians to the Hell of the Fiery Rings… No one was perfect. It was obvious to me that Larles and Kwol were radicalized by the oppression they’d lived. They were practically slaves to the totalitarian state of their Dawn. I knew this story all too well. Larles and Kwol needed help. They needed me. As Larles had said, ‘what even was evil?’ Considering my past, I had no right to make judgements…I was the gray, I was the epitome of a ‘middle-man…’
When I was given the opportunity to work for the Superiors (which may or may not have occurred in the current post-War timeline, but eh, I’ll just roll with it), I was also given freedom from the Evil Renegade who’d kidnapped me in his dark timeship, ending my days of living as an Adjudicator on the run. Once I’d be unchained from my life of servitude of the Renegade’s clutches—having escaped his manipulative whims, I had discovered real-life-freedom for the first time. I could only hope to return that favor, for two four-armed beings who ran away from their responsibilities and burnt worlds in their shame…
Cwej cut off Larles and Kwol in between sobs and made sure he enunciated each syllable perfectly to leave no confusion as to what he meant. “I will help you.”
They both looked dazed as if the sudden offer was too much for their minds to grasp. Kwol piped up, “But… Are you crazy? We just committed genocide! No matter if you come from the Totality or the Dawns, that’s a very strict no-no.”
Cwej scoffed, cleared his throat, and told them, “I really think you need to take a better look. Have you noticed the ring I’m wearing?”
Larles and Kwol stared at his right index finger, as Cwej explained. “It’s a time ring; if anyone cared about genocide, it certainly wouldn’t be the people who invented this ring! My Superiors were who I initially thought caused this mess before I met you two… Now, the time ring, it’s a back-up gadget, only used for anomalies in my missions. Usually, there’s a node on my neck I press to get back home. This ring is for those tight moments when I can’t even reach back there. AI and time travel don’t always go hand in hand, so this is an extra precaution…” Chris paused, and grinned a cheesy grin… “Now, watch what happens when I do this!”
A zap of electricity swirled around the base of his finger, and gradually a second time ring emerged, being formed from the sparks.
“Just like the Goddess’ might,” Kwol jabbed to Larles. “If only he weren’t so cocky, we could have mistaken him for an Angel.”
Once the electricity wore off, Cwej’s smile grew, as he flailed his hand to suppress the excess sparks. “Now, that I haven’t done since I was in my original body. What a rush!” He placed one ring on Larles’ finger, and the other on Kwol’s. “Here you go,” he told them. “Close your eyes, Larles, this is your first mission. You too, Kwol. I put a dampener on the rings so you can’t use them to time travel, but I want you to save the humans, as many of them as you can, take them to Saturn, and come back to me. I obviously wasn’t on-the-ball in this Universe, as the destruction of the Democratic Saturnian Entanglement didn’t happen here. From what I’ve heard they’ve been waiting for the Earthlings to come to them, the survivors of Earth will be welcomed warmly by the Democratic Entanglement. I assume that they’ve seen what you’ve done, but…if they see you helping, if they see the gray, the white and the black of your souls, well… just like I did… I think they’ll forgive you.”
“You said you worked with ‘the Superiors,’ didn’t you?” Larles chimed in. “The Boogeymen of Creation, They do exist, They won’t stand for this. Won’t They know you’re carrying around two juvenile delinquents that attempted to kill off a whole planet?”
“Well, They barely do anything for me except answer my questions and give me missions,” Cwej answered, “so I doubt They would notice me helping you two. For a V-Time experiment that hasn’t been tested before, They barely keep tabs on the control variable! That would irk any human scientist, now that I think of it…”
“So, we just round up all the humans hanging off the ledges of their broken world and falling into space, and we put them on Saturn… but why are you doing this for us?”
“Why? Are you kidding? Because I was just like you, in another time. Look, I’ll explain the rest later…Now go, there are probably two billion people smart or lucky enough to survive. Make it quick. Tell them Christopher Cwej sent you.” Cwej pressed the transporter node on his neck, and the two vanished…
They were sitting on walls, meditating, or were scrambling in vain anger, calling for help. No matter how they clung on, they were grabbed by a forcefield that looked like a fishing net. The shoal of remaining humanity gathered in a mass-basket. They were put on a planet with several others. And they lived. The spires and monoliths on the top of the Saturnian government buildings, brothels and temples, tourist traps and snaking alleyways enveloping all of the surviving human race, created the perfect modern aesthetic for prosperity between the DSE and the victims of the darkness of their saviors.
Two long years had passed, and Chris was getting impatient. The Superiors would get wind of his absence if he were gone for any longer. However, it wasn’t like They would care about puny human years. To such eternal beings, being made to count the hours of one’s life was almost unimaginable. Years were merely factional grains of sand in the hourglass of Time…
During the relocation of the human race, Larles and Kwol would occasionally stop by Cwej, who was staying on La Kraw el Sol. The christened name of the spaceship, which mixed up the letters of their own names to form something entirely new. (The extra A in the anagram always embarrassed them, but they could hardly change the ship’s name legally without being spotted.) Cwej liked to poke fun by shortening it to La Kraw on purpose.
He had built a tube to hold his Cwej-form, but since he wasn’t in the Totality he couldn’t enter the Vicinity until he returned. For now, he was trapped within his flesh. He waited in the ship, watching the seconds turn into minutes turn into hours turn into days turn into weeks turn into months turn into years until…
“We’re done.”
Cwej nearly choked on the bagel he was eating when he heard that. “You’re, uh, you’re… like—like done-done? Cruking hell, what took you so long?”
The trio snickered together, and despite their jubilations, couldn’t help but feel a solemn sense of accomplishment. Throughout their joint project, they’d all gradually grown a little closer. At times seeing the black/white/gray that inhabited them all.
Cwej enjoyed spending time with others who had run away. He felt a kinship with outcasts and rejects.
Larles had, over time, learned how to be a better speaker and diplomat. She still had her little tics, her anxiety not quite banished, but certainly muffled.
Kwol had begun to grasp that all mistakes have a silver lining and that nothing would stay permanently bad. Despite their years of hiding their anger with mockery, they had finally started to understand the meaning of consequence.
An awkward silence rang through all their ears until Kwol spoke up. “We only saved five hundred million people, that’s barely a drop in the ocean of people that were down there.”
Cwej thought for a good minute, his hand placed firmly on his broad chin, and gave his word of wisdom for the day. “Well, it’s not zero. And I think those drops have a very different opinion of how much your help mattered.”
The sun shone through the window on each of their faces. For now, the black of the shadows was gone. Cwej never aged, but the other two looked noticeably older, worn from their first mission. It had lasted longer than Cwej would have liked, but it had to be done…
“Come with me.”
Cwej wasn’t looking them straight in the eyes, but he could see them perk up at those three simple words. “You’ve earned it. I’m sorry I made you go through two years of hell. I only did it because I knew it was what you needed. But I want to give you a second chance here. Please come with me. You’ve spent two years amongst the stars, the perfect training period for new recruits. You two aren’t the only ones who need guidance.”
Kwol could make out tears in Chris’ eyes, building up in the same way theirs had done on the worst day of their lives, the day they and their partner had destroyed Earth.
“I…Oh, to hell with it! Come on!”
“Mmm,” Larles agreed with a nod. One of her twenty fingers fiddling with her now slightly longer hair.
“Kwol, Larles, there’s one last thing I need from you. To get to the Totality, I need your time rings. I’ll make an extra one for myself, but I can’t let you keep going around willy-nilly. I can sometimes help pilot your way through our voyages, if I’m within Vicinity, but considering…Well, considering how we met, and with what you did, I can’t continue to allow you free reign in my Totality. Not yet, at least. I’m sorry.”
Kwol looked at Larles, and Larles at Kwol. They reluctantly, but with a look of united understanding, took off their rings, and gave them to Cwej, who fused the rings together once again into one and placed it back on his right index finger.
“Sooo… how do you plan on getting us through the tunnels of the Bifrost and into the Totality without your Superiors knowing?” Kwol asked. “We can’t necessarily pilot La Kraw el Sol like we’re sneaking candy into the movie theatre. It’s pretty tricky to do that, let alone smuggling two rebellious Grigori into a Universe!”
Chris eyeballed Kwol to the point where Larles thought he would have a conniption any second. “Actually, I hadn’t thought of that. How are we going to get there?”
“Hey.” There was another voice, coming softly from the corner of the room, one which the sun hadn’t grazed. “Need a ride? I got you covered.”
Cwej recognized that voice. He couldn’t place where he heard it until he saw her. Yes, it was starting to make sense, now that the data from his mind was opened on her. Back then he’d found her quite serious, but she almost seemed bubbly now.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell the Superiors or the Firmament. Wanna guess why not, or do you want me to tell you?” She cocked her head to the side a bit.
Kwol spoke up, a fannish smile creeping across their face. “Because you’re one of the overseers of the Dawns. The Firmament who helped resolve the Battle of the Shilb, way back in the early days.”
Larles grimaced as memories of her college years crept back upon her. “Lady Aesculapius. We all know you. Right, Cwej?”
Cwej burrowed a gaze deep into Lady Aesculapius. “… No, it isn’t you, is it? After two years of waiting for these yahoos to finish their very first mission, now you turn up. I remember that face. You’re the woman I met at the beach, in the Totality, when I was getting some sun at Padrano Pier! You offered me a banana smoothie! Why are you here?”
The woman, Lady Aesc, snorted a laugh. “Just came to see how I could help, what with them trying to clean up after themselves. Thought I’d offer a hand with rescuing a few people on the surface. I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since you arrived, Cwej-V. I know what happened with the Chaos Matter, and looking back on Larles’ and Kwol’s records from Grigori, I can’t say I’m surprised.” She shook her head.
“Wait, wait, stop… Cwej, you just bumped into this high-profile Firmament by accident? Do you know anything about the Dawns? If you did, you would have asked for her bloody autograph! Speaking of, where’s a pen and paper?” Kwol semi-joked.
“Sounds like you’re all getting along swell. So, were you the one who brought me here, Aesc?”
Lady Aesculapius shrugged her shoulders. “No, but I have some guesses as to who it might be. Does it really matter? You’re going back, and your friends are getting a new home. Would it make you feel better if I said I was?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Alright, well, if that’s the case…” She pulled out a small object the size of a marble from her coat pocket. “This little doohickey is a Foce. It’s my ship. I can resize it at will. Wanna hop in? We can carpool, if you want.”
Stalactites hung from the ceiling in the center of Aesc’s Foce. The air was chilly but comfortable. The navigation systems booted up as soon as the entrance to the center was opened.
As the four piled in, Aesc said, “Roomy now that I resized its interior, eh? Truth be told, I’ve mostly been traveling alone these days, so it’s good to have some company.”
Cwej looked straight ahead at the controls a few yards in front of them. “How long do you think it’ll take? You can’t exactly ‘beam us back’ while we’re here. Larles and Kwol need La Kraw to travel.”
Lady Aesculapius pivoted her foot to turn around, with Cwej behind her nearly bumping into her. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” She cocked her head again, this time a bit more erratically. “Don’t you trust me, Chris?”
Cwej looked around and realized that she’d somehow already got the ship aboard her own, right beside the entrance on the back of the wall. He fell silent, feeling a bit called out.
She turned to Kwol and Larles. “Now, this is as far as I go. Remember, keep working with Cwej. He can help you redeem yourselves after the destruction you caused. Keep all sixteen hands and feet inside the transmat at all times, and don’t forget to visit our gift shop.”
Before any of them had time to process Lady Aesc’s words, the ship in the corner of her Foce, as well as the three travelers, vanished to a new home.
Lady Aesc sat down in the swivel chair next to her monitor and sighed. “You’re in for quite the adventure, everyone.”
Cwej woke up. The familiar movie he had flipped on was still playing on repeat. The drink he had poured was stale but still sat on the end table by the recliner. He was in the Vicinity, gray and dreary as ever. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He kissed the foggy ground, dancing around in utter glee.
Chris Cwej, there has been an unexpected glitch in your system. Please come to the Base of Operations as soon as possible for repairs to be done to your firmware.
Chris couldn’t be happier to hear that voice. After sitting in a hunk of tin for two long, long years, he never wanted to look at the Earth from that window again. It had been marvelous to see for the first hundred days, but had waned very quickly afterwards.
He was so upbeat that he almost forgot about Kwol and Larles. He double-tapped his node, and viewed through the eyes of the body he had left behind…
They were asleep, lying on the steel floor of their ship in a cold sweat. Cwej knew taking them along on missions would be risky, having to hide them from the Superiors while teaching them how to be decent, but it was possible… wasn’t it?
He checked the list of missions he had missed from being in the 10,000 Dawns… and gasped.
Well, better late than never. Let’s get cracking.
These were childish, impulsive beings. I’d met more zealots than a Vampyr has eyes, and Larles and Kwol, despite the double-holocausts they’d caused, were not zealots. It was apparent their souls could be saved… Hell, directly before this misadventure I’d condemned a bunch of Saturnians to the Hell of the Fiery Rings… No one was perfect. It was obvious to me that Larles and Kwol were radicalized by the oppression they’d lived. They were practically slaves to the totalitarian state of their Dawn. I knew this story all too well. Larles and Kwol needed help. They needed me. As Larles had said, ‘what even was evil?’ Considering my past, I had no right to make judgements…I was the gray, I was the epitome of a ‘middle-man…’
When I was given the opportunity to work for the Superiors (which may or may not have occurred in the current post-War timeline, but eh, I’ll just roll with it), I was also given freedom from the Evil Renegade who’d kidnapped me in his dark timeship, ending my days of living as an Adjudicator on the run. Once I’d be unchained from my life of servitude of the Renegade’s clutches—having escaped his manipulative whims, I had discovered real-life-freedom for the first time. I could only hope to return that favor, for two four-armed beings who ran away from their responsibilities and burnt worlds in their shame…
Cwej cut off Larles and Kwol in between sobs and made sure he enunciated each syllable perfectly to leave no confusion as to what he meant. “I will help you.”
They both looked dazed as if the sudden offer was too much for their minds to grasp. Kwol piped up, “But… Are you crazy? We just committed genocide! No matter if you come from the Totality or the Dawns, that’s a very strict no-no.”
Cwej scoffed, cleared his throat, and told them, “I really think you need to take a better look. Have you noticed the ring I’m wearing?”
Larles and Kwol stared at his right index finger, as Cwej explained. “It’s a time ring; if anyone cared about genocide, it certainly wouldn’t be the people who invented this ring! My Superiors were who I initially thought caused this mess before I met you two… Now, the time ring, it’s a back-up gadget, only used for anomalies in my missions. Usually, there’s a node on my neck I press to get back home. This ring is for those tight moments when I can’t even reach back there. AI and time travel don’t always go hand in hand, so this is an extra precaution…” Chris paused, and grinned a cheesy grin… “Now, watch what happens when I do this!”
A zap of electricity swirled around the base of his finger, and gradually a second time ring emerged, being formed from the sparks.
“Just like the Goddess’ might,” Kwol jabbed to Larles. “If only he weren’t so cocky, we could have mistaken him for an Angel.”
Once the electricity wore off, Cwej’s smile grew, as he flailed his hand to suppress the excess sparks. “Now, that I haven’t done since I was in my original body. What a rush!” He placed one ring on Larles’ finger, and the other on Kwol’s. “Here you go,” he told them. “Close your eyes, Larles, this is your first mission. You too, Kwol. I put a dampener on the rings so you can’t use them to time travel, but I want you to save the humans, as many of them as you can, take them to Saturn, and come back to me. I obviously wasn’t on-the-ball in this Universe, as the destruction of the Democratic Saturnian Entanglement didn’t happen here. From what I’ve heard they’ve been waiting for the Earthlings to come to them, the survivors of Earth will be welcomed warmly by the Democratic Entanglement. I assume that they’ve seen what you’ve done, but…if they see you helping, if they see the gray, the white and the black of your souls, well… just like I did… I think they’ll forgive you.”
“You said you worked with ‘the Superiors,’ didn’t you?” Larles chimed in. “The Boogeymen of Creation, They do exist, They won’t stand for this. Won’t They know you’re carrying around two juvenile delinquents that attempted to kill off a whole planet?”
“Well, They barely do anything for me except answer my questions and give me missions,” Cwej answered, “so I doubt They would notice me helping you two. For a V-Time experiment that hasn’t been tested before, They barely keep tabs on the control variable! That would irk any human scientist, now that I think of it…”
“So, we just round up all the humans hanging off the ledges of their broken world and falling into space, and we put them on Saturn… but why are you doing this for us?”
“Why? Are you kidding? Because I was just like you, in another time. Look, I’ll explain the rest later…Now go, there are probably two billion people smart or lucky enough to survive. Make it quick. Tell them Christopher Cwej sent you.” Cwej pressed the transporter node on his neck, and the two vanished…
They were sitting on walls, meditating, or were scrambling in vain anger, calling for help. No matter how they clung on, they were grabbed by a forcefield that looked like a fishing net. The shoal of remaining humanity gathered in a mass-basket. They were put on a planet with several others. And they lived. The spires and monoliths on the top of the Saturnian government buildings, brothels and temples, tourist traps and snaking alleyways enveloping all of the surviving human race, created the perfect modern aesthetic for prosperity between the DSE and the victims of the darkness of their saviors.
Two long years had passed, and Chris was getting impatient. The Superiors would get wind of his absence if he were gone for any longer. However, it wasn’t like They would care about puny human years. To such eternal beings, being made to count the hours of one’s life was almost unimaginable. Years were merely factional grains of sand in the hourglass of Time…
During the relocation of the human race, Larles and Kwol would occasionally stop by Cwej, who was staying on La Kraw el Sol. The christened name of the spaceship, which mixed up the letters of their own names to form something entirely new. (The extra A in the anagram always embarrassed them, but they could hardly change the ship’s name legally without being spotted.) Cwej liked to poke fun by shortening it to La Kraw on purpose.
He had built a tube to hold his Cwej-form, but since he wasn’t in the Totality he couldn’t enter the Vicinity until he returned. For now, he was trapped within his flesh. He waited in the ship, watching the seconds turn into minutes turn into hours turn into days turn into weeks turn into months turn into years until…
“We’re done.”
Cwej nearly choked on the bagel he was eating when he heard that. “You’re, uh, you’re… like—like done-done? Cruking hell, what took you so long?”
The trio snickered together, and despite their jubilations, couldn’t help but feel a solemn sense of accomplishment. Throughout their joint project, they’d all gradually grown a little closer. At times seeing the black/white/gray that inhabited them all.
Cwej enjoyed spending time with others who had run away. He felt a kinship with outcasts and rejects.
Larles had, over time, learned how to be a better speaker and diplomat. She still had her little tics, her anxiety not quite banished, but certainly muffled.
Kwol had begun to grasp that all mistakes have a silver lining and that nothing would stay permanently bad. Despite their years of hiding their anger with mockery, they had finally started to understand the meaning of consequence.
An awkward silence rang through all their ears until Kwol spoke up. “We only saved five hundred million people, that’s barely a drop in the ocean of people that were down there.”
Cwej thought for a good minute, his hand placed firmly on his broad chin, and gave his word of wisdom for the day. “Well, it’s not zero. And I think those drops have a very different opinion of how much your help mattered.”
The sun shone through the window on each of their faces. For now, the black of the shadows was gone. Cwej never aged, but the other two looked noticeably older, worn from their first mission. It had lasted longer than Cwej would have liked, but it had to be done…
“Come with me.”
Cwej wasn’t looking them straight in the eyes, but he could see them perk up at those three simple words. “You’ve earned it. I’m sorry I made you go through two years of hell. I only did it because I knew it was what you needed. But I want to give you a second chance here. Please come with me. You’ve spent two years amongst the stars, the perfect training period for new recruits. You two aren’t the only ones who need guidance.”
Kwol could make out tears in Chris’ eyes, building up in the same way theirs had done on the worst day of their lives, the day they and their partner had destroyed Earth.
“I…Oh, to hell with it! Come on!”
“Mmm,” Larles agreed with a nod. One of her twenty fingers fiddling with her now slightly longer hair.
“Kwol, Larles, there’s one last thing I need from you. To get to the Totality, I need your time rings. I’ll make an extra one for myself, but I can’t let you keep going around willy-nilly. I can sometimes help pilot your way through our voyages, if I’m within Vicinity, but considering…Well, considering how we met, and with what you did, I can’t continue to allow you free reign in my Totality. Not yet, at least. I’m sorry.”
Kwol looked at Larles, and Larles at Kwol. They reluctantly, but with a look of united understanding, took off their rings, and gave them to Cwej, who fused the rings together once again into one and placed it back on his right index finger.
“Sooo… how do you plan on getting us through the tunnels of the Bifrost and into the Totality without your Superiors knowing?” Kwol asked. “We can’t necessarily pilot La Kraw el Sol like we’re sneaking candy into the movie theatre. It’s pretty tricky to do that, let alone smuggling two rebellious Grigori into a Universe!”
Chris eyeballed Kwol to the point where Larles thought he would have a conniption any second. “Actually, I hadn’t thought of that. How are we going to get there?”
“Hey.” There was another voice, coming softly from the corner of the room, one which the sun hadn’t grazed. “Need a ride? I got you covered.”
Cwej recognized that voice. He couldn’t place where he heard it until he saw her. Yes, it was starting to make sense, now that the data from his mind was opened on her. Back then he’d found her quite serious, but she almost seemed bubbly now.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell the Superiors or the Firmament. Wanna guess why not, or do you want me to tell you?” She cocked her head to the side a bit.
Kwol spoke up, a fannish smile creeping across their face. “Because you’re one of the overseers of the Dawns. The Firmament who helped resolve the Battle of the Shilb, way back in the early days.”
Larles grimaced as memories of her college years crept back upon her. “Lady Aesculapius. We all know you. Right, Cwej?”
Cwej burrowed a gaze deep into Lady Aesculapius. “… No, it isn’t you, is it? After two years of waiting for these yahoos to finish their very first mission, now you turn up. I remember that face. You’re the woman I met at the beach, in the Totality, when I was getting some sun at Padrano Pier! You offered me a banana smoothie! Why are you here?”
The woman, Lady Aesc, snorted a laugh. “Just came to see how I could help, what with them trying to clean up after themselves. Thought I’d offer a hand with rescuing a few people on the surface. I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since you arrived, Cwej-V. I know what happened with the Chaos Matter, and looking back on Larles’ and Kwol’s records from Grigori, I can’t say I’m surprised.” She shook her head.
“Wait, wait, stop… Cwej, you just bumped into this high-profile Firmament by accident? Do you know anything about the Dawns? If you did, you would have asked for her bloody autograph! Speaking of, where’s a pen and paper?” Kwol semi-joked.
“Sounds like you’re all getting along swell. So, were you the one who brought me here, Aesc?”
Lady Aesculapius shrugged her shoulders. “No, but I have some guesses as to who it might be. Does it really matter? You’re going back, and your friends are getting a new home. Would it make you feel better if I said I was?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Alright, well, if that’s the case…” She pulled out a small object the size of a marble from her coat pocket. “This little doohickey is a Foce. It’s my ship. I can resize it at will. Wanna hop in? We can carpool, if you want.”
Stalactites hung from the ceiling in the center of Aesc’s Foce. The air was chilly but comfortable. The navigation systems booted up as soon as the entrance to the center was opened.
As the four piled in, Aesc said, “Roomy now that I resized its interior, eh? Truth be told, I’ve mostly been traveling alone these days, so it’s good to have some company.”
Cwej looked straight ahead at the controls a few yards in front of them. “How long do you think it’ll take? You can’t exactly ‘beam us back’ while we’re here. Larles and Kwol need La Kraw to travel.”
Lady Aesculapius pivoted her foot to turn around, with Cwej behind her nearly bumping into her. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” She cocked her head again, this time a bit more erratically. “Don’t you trust me, Chris?”
Cwej looked around and realized that she’d somehow already got the ship aboard her own, right beside the entrance on the back of the wall. He fell silent, feeling a bit called out.
She turned to Kwol and Larles. “Now, this is as far as I go. Remember, keep working with Cwej. He can help you redeem yourselves after the destruction you caused. Keep all sixteen hands and feet inside the transmat at all times, and don’t forget to visit our gift shop.”
Before any of them had time to process Lady Aesc’s words, the ship in the corner of her Foce, as well as the three travelers, vanished to a new home.
Lady Aesc sat down in the swivel chair next to her monitor and sighed. “You’re in for quite the adventure, everyone.”
Cwej woke up. The familiar movie he had flipped on was still playing on repeat. The drink he had poured was stale but still sat on the end table by the recliner. He was in the Vicinity, gray and dreary as ever. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He kissed the foggy ground, dancing around in utter glee.
Chris Cwej, there has been an unexpected glitch in your system. Please come to the Base of Operations as soon as possible for repairs to be done to your firmware.
Chris couldn’t be happier to hear that voice. After sitting in a hunk of tin for two long, long years, he never wanted to look at the Earth from that window again. It had been marvelous to see for the first hundred days, but had waned very quickly afterwards.
He was so upbeat that he almost forgot about Kwol and Larles. He double-tapped his node, and viewed through the eyes of the body he had left behind…
They were asleep, lying on the steel floor of their ship in a cold sweat. Cwej knew taking them along on missions would be risky, having to hide them from the Superiors while teaching them how to be decent, but it was possible… wasn’t it?
He checked the list of missions he had missed from being in the 10,000 Dawns… and gasped.
Well, better late than never. Let’s get cracking.
Epilogue
In the Base of Operations, The High President sat listening to the briefing of the destruction of the armed Cwejen inside Dawn 1,027’s Earth and sighed. “Whoever did this will pay for their transgressions with their life! We were so close to finally ridding the Multiverse of those pesky Firmament and ending our little peace treaty!”
A croaking voice came from beyond the curtains of the hall. “Pay with my life? No, I don’t think I will. I won’t pay at all.”
The curtains were pulled open by hands unseen. Hours later, a Superior who had run rather late, dashing into the room out of breath, was the first to see the grisly sight. Each Superior in the room had been drowned forcefully, Their regen energy wasted trying to fight off Their murderer.
A croaking voice came from beyond the curtains of the hall. “Pay with my life? No, I don’t think I will. I won’t pay at all.”
The curtains were pulled open by hands unseen. Hours later, a Superior who had run rather late, dashing into the room out of breath, was the first to see the grisly sight. Each Superior in the room had been drowned forcefully, Their regen energy wasted trying to fight off Their murderer.
A publication of Arcbeatle Press
Copyright 2023, Arcbeatle Press, all rights reserved.
Chris Cwej, Cwej, and related original material is the creation and property of Andy Lane. Used with permission..
Cwejen, the War, the Evil Renegade, and related original material are the creations of Lawrence Miles and property of Obverse Books. Used with permission.
Illustration by Mia Ashford-John
Edited by Hunter O’Connell
Creative Consultant Niki Haringsma
Assistance and additional editing by James Hornby, Tomoko M. Banks, James Wylder, and Daisy Schopmeyer.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between persons living or dead, or events past or present, is purely co-incidental. Any resemblance between existing characters or material not owned by Arcbeatle Press or used with permission is either purely co-incidental, or fals firmly within the grounds of parody and satire.
Arcbeatle Press is located in Elkhart, IN and is owned and operated by James Wylder
Copyright 2023, Arcbeatle Press, all rights reserved.
Chris Cwej, Cwej, and related original material is the creation and property of Andy Lane. Used with permission..
Cwejen, the War, the Evil Renegade, and related original material are the creations of Lawrence Miles and property of Obverse Books. Used with permission.
Illustration by Mia Ashford-John
Edited by Hunter O’Connell
Creative Consultant Niki Haringsma
Assistance and additional editing by James Hornby, Tomoko M. Banks, James Wylder, and Daisy Schopmeyer.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between persons living or dead, or events past or present, is purely co-incidental. Any resemblance between existing characters or material not owned by Arcbeatle Press or used with permission is either purely co-incidental, or fals firmly within the grounds of parody and satire.
Arcbeatle Press is located in Elkhart, IN and is owned and operated by James Wylder
- Published on
Chris Cwej returns with new adventures in Cwej: Down the Middle, a new anthology from Arcbeatle Press. Look for it later in 2020! This story is a preview of the coming attractions, an adventure by Michael Robertson (10,000 Dawns, GoblinPunk) that takes Cwej on a new kind of journey...
Collective Unconscious
by Michael Robertson
"So. Strange dreams, is it?"
"Yeah. I mean that's not all there is, but the dreams are what made me realize I needed to talk to you."
"Me specifically?"
Sara Willox breathed slowly, calming her nerves to think. "I heard your name somewhere." She thought about how much she should say. "Can't remember where, but you were my first choice."
"Well, thank you very much." Dr. Ashfield smiled and brushed a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. The room was warm and inviting, more like the front room of a house than an office. A plant sat next to a fake fireplace that wasn't plugged in. An entire wall was taken up by bookshelves. "I'll see what I can do for you. When did your dreams become a problem?"
"A few weeks ago. Maybe three weeks? They just seemed too real and vivid. It doesn't help that I used to work early mornings, but now I'm not even getting a full eight hours."
"Used to? Have you changed your hours now?"
"I've been laid off," said Sara, very matter-of-factly.
"Oh, sorry to hear that," said Dr. Ashfield, pushing her glasses up her nose as an excuse to avoid eye contact.
"Yeah, bit of a bummer, but whatever. Office job," she said, as if that made it okay, "I always said I was just working there to get money to do what I really wanted, but I never figured out what that was. Then all of a sudden, I've had to start job hunting again and this question of what I want to do has come up again and it's just…" She caught herself, smiled, and leaned forward to pick up her cup. "It's a mess."
Dr. Ashfield quietly considered the mess. "Is there a common thread to your bad dreams? Any recurring images?"
Sara's tea cup clacked gently against its saucer as she set it back down. "Not really. It's just a bunch of really weird stuff. Always stressful. Sometimes scary, like nightmares, but mostly worrying."
"And you can remember all of them?"
"Perfectly," said Sara, "it's so strange, I had this really weird one a few nights ago. It's the one that told me I should talk to you. I was trapped in a dark dungeon, and I couldn't move at all."
Dr. Ashfield nodded knowingly. "Often our dreams can express the helplessness we feel in daily life."
"And there was this guy," Sara continued, "a blonde guy in a suit of blue armor."
Dr. Ashfield stopped. Her eyes drifted slightly to the floral wallpaper behind Sara. "Blue armor?"
"I know. It's weird." She shrunk back into her armchair slightly. "It was like… Not armor like a soldier, more like a knight. A knight… soldier. Bright blue metal armor, with some gold bits. I can picture him, as clearly as I can see you. His name was Chris."
Dr. Ashfield sat forward. "Chris? You're sure?"
"Yeah. Honestly, my imagination is so messed up. It can come up with ridiculous creatures and a man in bright blue armor, then it goes and names him something nice and normal like Chris!" She gave an awkward chuckle. "His last name was weird though."
Dr. Ashfield got back to her flat and locked the door. She took a few steps, then turned and checked she'd definitely locked it. The whole walk home she couldn't stop thinking about Sara. Dr. Ashfield sat on her bed and rummaged through the side drawer. At the bottom, underneath makeup and loose change, she found her small green dream journal. She flicked through it feverishly. There it was. Six nights ago. The creatures, the blonde guy, the world that changed shape in a moment.
They'd had the same dream.
Six nights ago, Dr. Ashfield closed her eyes and entered a warzone. That it was a warzone or that she was in any danger at all wasn't immediately clear. She was walking a path that wound gently down the side of a rocky hill. The sky was a brilliant orange and all around her were the most surreal flowers. Slowly, she bent down to pick one. The bright pink petals got bluer around the center and made her head spin. She'd never seen anything like it, and it was as if she was seeing it more clearly than she'd ever seen anything.
Dr. Ashfield closed her eyes and rubbed them with her fingers, then reopened them. The flower was still in front of her and still just as strange. The sun shone brightly in the sky but it wasn't too hot. There was a breeze blowing but it wasn't too cold. Everything here was perfect. Then she had to start running.
Fighting and explosions broke out all around her. Strange shapes wielding strange weapons tried to kill each other. Dr. Ashfield dived for cover behind a large person-sized rock she hadn't noticed before. She hadn't noticed all the soldiers either. There were two sides: a group of hairy insect creatures with large bug eyes, and a group of elegant tall creatures whose scales ranged from blue to green.
Cries, wails, explosions. Dr. Ashfield clung to the side of the rock, praying she hadn't been seen. She yelped when something grabbed her.
"Keep your head down. This way!"
A blonde man in a blue suit of armor guided her out of her hiding place and down a ditch, which led to the mouth of a cave. They ducked inside and the sounds of fighting outside didn't follow them.
"Thanks," said Dr. Ashfield, leaning on the cave wall as she filled her lungs, "who are you?"
"Chris Cwej. Strange first question. 'Who are you', not 'where am I.' Have you given that one any thought?"
Dr. Ashfield opened her mouth, then shut it again. "I… was walking."
"Where to?"
"Dunno, just anywhere." She straightened herself off the cave wall. When she looked closer at the rock, she saw deep purple or pink veins of beautiful crystal running through it. It took her a while to notice that the mouth of the cave wasn't in view anymore and they were much deeper than she realized. "Did we move?"
"No, the cave did," explained Chris, "that's the problem with dreams - try to keep everything straight in your head and stuff gets twisted and tangled and lost down the middle."
"Dreams?" Dr. Ashfield felt herself and her clothes and the cave walls. "Am I dreaming?"
"Both of us are. What's your name?"
"Jen. I am Dr. Jen Ashfield," she said carefully, as if she was telling herself that, "this is a weird dream. And I study dreams, I should know."
"Oh? Is that what you're a doctor of?" asked Chris. He was shining a torch down the tunnel, leading their way out. The pink crystal in the walls shone and glittered in the light.
"I'm a therapist. A doctor of dreams would be silly."
"Oh, you never know. There are some weird doctors out there." Chris' face was half in shadow as he ventured through the cave.
Dr. Ashfield followed Chris in silence for a moment. "Since you called me out for it earlier, are we walking to get anywhere?"
"Yes, as it happens. I'm trying to find the control center of this place."
"Of the cave?"
"Of the world."
The two emerged onto a cliff overlooking a lush forest. The skyline was dominated by a mountain that stretched impossibly high into the clouds.
Chris stared up at it. "Yep, that'll do it. Dream geography is very convenient." He turned to face Jen. "Don't worry, I promise I'll get you back home. Won't take long!" He started down the path through the forest to the mountain.
"Oh, I'm coming with you," said Jen, eyes on the mountain, "this place is beautiful."
"It's the Psychosphere. A virtual dream world created by the Geldex. A paradise."
"The 'Psychosphere'?" Jen smiled. "Awful pun. Go on then - what's a Geldex?"
"You've seen some already," said Chris, "the tall, thin, scaly aliens with blue-ish skin."
Dr. Ashfield ran her hands across the lower leaves of the trees they passed. They felt like the softest silk and were covered in intricate patterns, each one unique. "What did you mean, you'll 'get me back home'? I'm not in a hurry to leave."
"Good," said Chris, "if you try to wake up, you'll discover that you can't. You and everyone else who's dreamed their way in here is stuck."
Dr. Ashfield slowly started to panic. "I'm…I'm stuck? Forever?"
"Fortunately, you said you weren't in a hurry to leave, so no need to get upset. There should be an exit at the top of the mountain. Down!"
Chris bounded off the path and into the trees which made Jen jump before she followed him. She peered out, wondering what they were hiding from but not daring to ask. Then, almost silently, they saw two of those insect creatures from before walking across the path. Chris and Jen waited until they were sure they'd both passed before emerging back into the path. "Haven't read Freud in a while so, I'll be honest, not sure what the massive bugs are supposed to represent."
"Hytherians," said Chris, "creatures of powerful psychic energy, like the Geldex. The two species are at war for this place, and the war has been so damaging that it's opened the Psychosphere to unassuming dreamers like you."
"You're stuck here too, you know."
"I was sent here. That's my job; to sort out loose odds and ends across the obscure areas of the Totality. My mind was uploaded to the Psychosphere so I could find a way to shut it down. Send everyone back to the waking world. I suppose I'm a bit like an alarm clock."
"Right…" Jen looked both ways at a crossroads to check for giant insect monsters. "Let's get this done. Top of the mountain, you say?"
Birds chirped overhead and the sky subtly glittered and changed color as Jen and Chris made their way through the forest. The trees were covered in colorful vines that wrapped around them like tinsel and linked them together like cables.
Eventually, they reached a path leading up the side of the mountain and started to climb. And climb, and climb. The warm sky above turned to a cool purple as the sun started to set.
Jen sat down on a rock for a little rest and looked down to see how far they'd come. She could make out the fluorescent pattern on the back of a beetle four meters below her. They were barely higher than the trees.
She opened her mouth and was unable to form words, instead just making frustrated angry noises to get Chris' attention. He joined her in looking over the edge. "Ever had a dream where you walked for miles but never got anywhere?"
Jen sulked. "This place is ridiculous."
"It's better than an asylum on Golgalith. Barely."
"So, how do we get up there?"
Chris looked around. "The whole idea of the Psychosphere is it's a dream where you know you're dreaming. So, we should be able to do whatever we want if we think about it hard enough." He approached the face of the mountain, looking closely at the pattern of the rocks. Brushing away a bit of moss, he exposed a small metal panel with an up arrow and a down arrow. He pressed 'up', and a perfect rectangle in the side of the mountain slid open with a ping to reveal an office elevator. Chris stepped aside and gestured for Jen to enter. "After you," he said, proud of himself.
"Ridiculous," she muttered again as she reluctantly got in.
The double doors pinged open again at the top of the mountain. Immediately their attention was drawn to the huge building ahead of them that looked like an art gallery, a castle, and an observatory all at once. It had wide round walls and a domed glass roof, with stone turrets jutting out at impossible angles.
"Look at this!" Jen ran over to a strange shape sticking up from the ground. It was hard to tell what it was from the angle they were at, but as they walked around it, they saw it was a door. A fire exit, complete with a green light floating overhead, suspended on nothing. "What is it?"
"An exit."
"I can see it's an exit, but where from and to?"
Chris walked around the door standing by itself on the mountain's summit. "From the dream to reality, I imagine."
"So, this is how I wake up?"
"Looks like it." Chris extended a hand. "It was nice meeting you, Dr. Ashfield."
Jen shook it. "Nice meeting you, Chris Cwej. I'm not convinced you're real."
Chris smiled. "That's probably for the best."
Taking a breath, Dr. Ashfield pushed the metal bar on the fire exit, passed over the threshold, and woke up.
The door swung closed behind her and Chris turned his attention back to the building at the end of the path. He breathed out through his nose and started walking. Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but notice a few grey clouds drift into view across the otherwise spotless sky. The sky itself was getting darker and darker at an unrealistic rate.
He stopped. The sky's color stayed the same.
He took a step back. The sky got lighter.
He took a step forward. The sky got darker.
Chris thought for a second, then smirked and broke into a run. Clouds consumed the sky and lightning struck as he charged down the path towards the castle.
He burst through the double doors and slammed them shut behind him. A feeling of cold hit him immediately - the first feeling of discomfort he'd felt since entering this paradise. The hall in front of him was gray and stone and dark, lit by flaming torches. Stairways stabbed out from the main corridor in ways that clearly didn't match the outside of the building. Chris thought hard about how he was going to choose a direction to go in. Then a muffled scream decided for him.
He charged down a flight of steps that curved just enough to hide where they led and seemed to go on for far too long. Eventually, they opened into a large chamber, where a woman was standing calmly facing away at an angle. Her shoulders were relaxed in an inviting, confident stance, and she was screaming through her closed mouth.
Chris slowly walked around her, and as soon as he entered her field of view, her wide, scared eyes snapped to look at him. He reached out and touched her shoulder, and the spell broke. The woman fell to the floor, gasping, finally able to move. She kept screaming for a few seconds, as if to finally get the noise out and be heard in defiance of whatever made her silent. "Where the hell am I?!"
"The nightmare at the heart of the dream."
"Oh good, a poet." She lay on the ground, taking slow breaths. "Thank you. That was the scariest thing ever."
"No problem. The name's Chris Cwej, and right now you're dreaming. None of this is real. Hopefully, that's comforting."
"I'm Sara Willox," said Sara Willox, "I can't believe my dreams are getting worse. At first they were stressful, now they're meta."
"You have a history of bad dreams?"
"Yeah." Sara picked herself up and finally took in all 360 degrees of her surroundings. "Been having a really rough time lately."
"That's a shame. You just missed the dream expert," said Chris, "now, if you'll excuse me, somewhere in this castle is a way to shut this dream world down. What I'd love more than anything is a big red button, those always do the job. The problem is, the closer you get to it the more nightmarish the dream becomes, so you should probably get back to the, uh, paradise area." He turned and gestured to the stairs that didn't exist. "Ah."
"What's through there?" Sara was gesturing to a door that definitely hadn't been there before.
Chris approached slowly and gently pressed on the wood. The door swung open into a room of the castle containing a dark forest of dead trees. The icy wind of the outdoors blew through them. Some of the trees looked like people or creatures, twisted in agony, but the resemblance was obscured just enough to pass as coincidence.
"Don't be scared," Chris muttered, "we're getting close to the nexus point, it shouldn't be long." He took Sara's hand and led her through the contorted trees.
The two walked together through the forest for longer than they could remember, until they came to a glass box in the middle of a clearing. Chris and Sara peered into it and saw a big red button.
"Welcome."
They turned to see an elderly Geldex with green scales running through deep blue.
"Hello," said Sara with a sigh that said 'whatever, I might as well allow this to happen today.'
The Geldex bowed. His scales flickered in the shadow of the forest. "I see you have wandered in here from outside. This must be very distressing for you both, allow me to show you the way back."
"No thank you," said Chris, "we're here to push this button if you don't mind."
The alien already knew that's what he wanted and breathed slowly. "Hytherian spies? I'll admit, I've never seen creatures with your shape before."
"That'll be because we're not Hytherians. You are right about us wandering in here from outside though. We wandered in from outside the Psychosphere. The Hytherians damaged it and created a gap in the system, through which people like Sara here," he gestured, "and my good friend Dr. Jen Ashfield dreamt their way in by mistake. Now, I don't think it's fair that anyone should have to stay here against their will. I'm sorry to say, your paradise resort is putting people in danger, so I'm here to pull the plug. Everyone wakes up in the real world and you can build another Psychosphere some other time. Simple."
The Geldex thought for a moment about how much this human knew, and looked sadly into the glass box. "This is not a 'paradise resort.' This virtual world is our escape from a dying planet. Our goal is to secure the Psychosphere from outsiders, then sever the connection to our physical bodies. The Geldex will live forever, free of physical pain, the need for food or drink. Free of disease!"
"And what about me?" said Sara, "what about all of us, don't we get a say? What if I don't want to leave my physical body forever?"
"This is regretful," said the Geldex, "but the flaws in the Psychosphere might be fixed given time."
"Time doesn't cut it. I should know." Chris stood over the glass box, examining the button. "I'm sorry, but the Psychosphere is dragging other people into your suffering. There's always a chance the Geldex can survive another way, or make a new Psychosphere."
The Geldex knew his mind had already been made. "Our future will be uncertain."
"I'm sorry to say that everyone's is. But let's all make the best of it."
Chris turned to Sara. "Are you ready?" he asked.
"I…don't know…" she stuttered, stepping away from the box.
"Dreams are tricky like that." Chris smiled at her. "Have a good morning."
Chris Cwej shattered the glass. It sounded like an alarm clock.
Sara Willox rubbed her eyes and checked the time on her phone. Her eyes narrowed and she did some mental maths. If she ran through her whole morning routine a little bit quicker later, she'd be able to fit in a few more minutes of sleep now. Sara put the phone down and rolled over to face the wall. That was the weirdest nightmare she'd had so far. Weird because of how real it was. The whole thing hung in her memory, refusing to fade.
She rolled back towards her phone, opened the internet, and stared at the blank google search bar. Maybe it was finally time to get some professional help. She was going to find a dream expert.
Sara thought back to her nightmare as she wondered what to search. Slowly, she typed in 'Dr. Jen Ashfield.'
"Yeah. I mean that's not all there is, but the dreams are what made me realize I needed to talk to you."
"Me specifically?"
Sara Willox breathed slowly, calming her nerves to think. "I heard your name somewhere." She thought about how much she should say. "Can't remember where, but you were my first choice."
"Well, thank you very much." Dr. Ashfield smiled and brushed a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. The room was warm and inviting, more like the front room of a house than an office. A plant sat next to a fake fireplace that wasn't plugged in. An entire wall was taken up by bookshelves. "I'll see what I can do for you. When did your dreams become a problem?"
"A few weeks ago. Maybe three weeks? They just seemed too real and vivid. It doesn't help that I used to work early mornings, but now I'm not even getting a full eight hours."
"Used to? Have you changed your hours now?"
"I've been laid off," said Sara, very matter-of-factly.
"Oh, sorry to hear that," said Dr. Ashfield, pushing her glasses up her nose as an excuse to avoid eye contact.
"Yeah, bit of a bummer, but whatever. Office job," she said, as if that made it okay, "I always said I was just working there to get money to do what I really wanted, but I never figured out what that was. Then all of a sudden, I've had to start job hunting again and this question of what I want to do has come up again and it's just…" She caught herself, smiled, and leaned forward to pick up her cup. "It's a mess."
Dr. Ashfield quietly considered the mess. "Is there a common thread to your bad dreams? Any recurring images?"
Sara's tea cup clacked gently against its saucer as she set it back down. "Not really. It's just a bunch of really weird stuff. Always stressful. Sometimes scary, like nightmares, but mostly worrying."
"And you can remember all of them?"
"Perfectly," said Sara, "it's so strange, I had this really weird one a few nights ago. It's the one that told me I should talk to you. I was trapped in a dark dungeon, and I couldn't move at all."
Dr. Ashfield nodded knowingly. "Often our dreams can express the helplessness we feel in daily life."
"And there was this guy," Sara continued, "a blonde guy in a suit of blue armor."
Dr. Ashfield stopped. Her eyes drifted slightly to the floral wallpaper behind Sara. "Blue armor?"
"I know. It's weird." She shrunk back into her armchair slightly. "It was like… Not armor like a soldier, more like a knight. A knight… soldier. Bright blue metal armor, with some gold bits. I can picture him, as clearly as I can see you. His name was Chris."
Dr. Ashfield sat forward. "Chris? You're sure?"
"Yeah. Honestly, my imagination is so messed up. It can come up with ridiculous creatures and a man in bright blue armor, then it goes and names him something nice and normal like Chris!" She gave an awkward chuckle. "His last name was weird though."
Dr. Ashfield got back to her flat and locked the door. She took a few steps, then turned and checked she'd definitely locked it. The whole walk home she couldn't stop thinking about Sara. Dr. Ashfield sat on her bed and rummaged through the side drawer. At the bottom, underneath makeup and loose change, she found her small green dream journal. She flicked through it feverishly. There it was. Six nights ago. The creatures, the blonde guy, the world that changed shape in a moment.
They'd had the same dream.
Six nights ago, Dr. Ashfield closed her eyes and entered a warzone. That it was a warzone or that she was in any danger at all wasn't immediately clear. She was walking a path that wound gently down the side of a rocky hill. The sky was a brilliant orange and all around her were the most surreal flowers. Slowly, she bent down to pick one. The bright pink petals got bluer around the center and made her head spin. She'd never seen anything like it, and it was as if she was seeing it more clearly than she'd ever seen anything.
Dr. Ashfield closed her eyes and rubbed them with her fingers, then reopened them. The flower was still in front of her and still just as strange. The sun shone brightly in the sky but it wasn't too hot. There was a breeze blowing but it wasn't too cold. Everything here was perfect. Then she had to start running.
Fighting and explosions broke out all around her. Strange shapes wielding strange weapons tried to kill each other. Dr. Ashfield dived for cover behind a large person-sized rock she hadn't noticed before. She hadn't noticed all the soldiers either. There were two sides: a group of hairy insect creatures with large bug eyes, and a group of elegant tall creatures whose scales ranged from blue to green.
Cries, wails, explosions. Dr. Ashfield clung to the side of the rock, praying she hadn't been seen. She yelped when something grabbed her.
"Keep your head down. This way!"
A blonde man in a blue suit of armor guided her out of her hiding place and down a ditch, which led to the mouth of a cave. They ducked inside and the sounds of fighting outside didn't follow them.
"Thanks," said Dr. Ashfield, leaning on the cave wall as she filled her lungs, "who are you?"
"Chris Cwej. Strange first question. 'Who are you', not 'where am I.' Have you given that one any thought?"
Dr. Ashfield opened her mouth, then shut it again. "I… was walking."
"Where to?"
"Dunno, just anywhere." She straightened herself off the cave wall. When she looked closer at the rock, she saw deep purple or pink veins of beautiful crystal running through it. It took her a while to notice that the mouth of the cave wasn't in view anymore and they were much deeper than she realized. "Did we move?"
"No, the cave did," explained Chris, "that's the problem with dreams - try to keep everything straight in your head and stuff gets twisted and tangled and lost down the middle."
"Dreams?" Dr. Ashfield felt herself and her clothes and the cave walls. "Am I dreaming?"
"Both of us are. What's your name?"
"Jen. I am Dr. Jen Ashfield," she said carefully, as if she was telling herself that, "this is a weird dream. And I study dreams, I should know."
"Oh? Is that what you're a doctor of?" asked Chris. He was shining a torch down the tunnel, leading their way out. The pink crystal in the walls shone and glittered in the light.
"I'm a therapist. A doctor of dreams would be silly."
"Oh, you never know. There are some weird doctors out there." Chris' face was half in shadow as he ventured through the cave.
Dr. Ashfield followed Chris in silence for a moment. "Since you called me out for it earlier, are we walking to get anywhere?"
"Yes, as it happens. I'm trying to find the control center of this place."
"Of the cave?"
"Of the world."
The two emerged onto a cliff overlooking a lush forest. The skyline was dominated by a mountain that stretched impossibly high into the clouds.
Chris stared up at it. "Yep, that'll do it. Dream geography is very convenient." He turned to face Jen. "Don't worry, I promise I'll get you back home. Won't take long!" He started down the path through the forest to the mountain.
"Oh, I'm coming with you," said Jen, eyes on the mountain, "this place is beautiful."
"It's the Psychosphere. A virtual dream world created by the Geldex. A paradise."
"The 'Psychosphere'?" Jen smiled. "Awful pun. Go on then - what's a Geldex?"
"You've seen some already," said Chris, "the tall, thin, scaly aliens with blue-ish skin."
Dr. Ashfield ran her hands across the lower leaves of the trees they passed. They felt like the softest silk and were covered in intricate patterns, each one unique. "What did you mean, you'll 'get me back home'? I'm not in a hurry to leave."
"Good," said Chris, "if you try to wake up, you'll discover that you can't. You and everyone else who's dreamed their way in here is stuck."
Dr. Ashfield slowly started to panic. "I'm…I'm stuck? Forever?"
"Fortunately, you said you weren't in a hurry to leave, so no need to get upset. There should be an exit at the top of the mountain. Down!"
Chris bounded off the path and into the trees which made Jen jump before she followed him. She peered out, wondering what they were hiding from but not daring to ask. Then, almost silently, they saw two of those insect creatures from before walking across the path. Chris and Jen waited until they were sure they'd both passed before emerging back into the path. "Haven't read Freud in a while so, I'll be honest, not sure what the massive bugs are supposed to represent."
"Hytherians," said Chris, "creatures of powerful psychic energy, like the Geldex. The two species are at war for this place, and the war has been so damaging that it's opened the Psychosphere to unassuming dreamers like you."
"You're stuck here too, you know."
"I was sent here. That's my job; to sort out loose odds and ends across the obscure areas of the Totality. My mind was uploaded to the Psychosphere so I could find a way to shut it down. Send everyone back to the waking world. I suppose I'm a bit like an alarm clock."
"Right…" Jen looked both ways at a crossroads to check for giant insect monsters. "Let's get this done. Top of the mountain, you say?"
Birds chirped overhead and the sky subtly glittered and changed color as Jen and Chris made their way through the forest. The trees were covered in colorful vines that wrapped around them like tinsel and linked them together like cables.
Eventually, they reached a path leading up the side of the mountain and started to climb. And climb, and climb. The warm sky above turned to a cool purple as the sun started to set.
Jen sat down on a rock for a little rest and looked down to see how far they'd come. She could make out the fluorescent pattern on the back of a beetle four meters below her. They were barely higher than the trees.
She opened her mouth and was unable to form words, instead just making frustrated angry noises to get Chris' attention. He joined her in looking over the edge. "Ever had a dream where you walked for miles but never got anywhere?"
Jen sulked. "This place is ridiculous."
"It's better than an asylum on Golgalith. Barely."
"So, how do we get up there?"
Chris looked around. "The whole idea of the Psychosphere is it's a dream where you know you're dreaming. So, we should be able to do whatever we want if we think about it hard enough." He approached the face of the mountain, looking closely at the pattern of the rocks. Brushing away a bit of moss, he exposed a small metal panel with an up arrow and a down arrow. He pressed 'up', and a perfect rectangle in the side of the mountain slid open with a ping to reveal an office elevator. Chris stepped aside and gestured for Jen to enter. "After you," he said, proud of himself.
"Ridiculous," she muttered again as she reluctantly got in.
The double doors pinged open again at the top of the mountain. Immediately their attention was drawn to the huge building ahead of them that looked like an art gallery, a castle, and an observatory all at once. It had wide round walls and a domed glass roof, with stone turrets jutting out at impossible angles.
"Look at this!" Jen ran over to a strange shape sticking up from the ground. It was hard to tell what it was from the angle they were at, but as they walked around it, they saw it was a door. A fire exit, complete with a green light floating overhead, suspended on nothing. "What is it?"
"An exit."
"I can see it's an exit, but where from and to?"
Chris walked around the door standing by itself on the mountain's summit. "From the dream to reality, I imagine."
"So, this is how I wake up?"
"Looks like it." Chris extended a hand. "It was nice meeting you, Dr. Ashfield."
Jen shook it. "Nice meeting you, Chris Cwej. I'm not convinced you're real."
Chris smiled. "That's probably for the best."
Taking a breath, Dr. Ashfield pushed the metal bar on the fire exit, passed over the threshold, and woke up.
The door swung closed behind her and Chris turned his attention back to the building at the end of the path. He breathed out through his nose and started walking. Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but notice a few grey clouds drift into view across the otherwise spotless sky. The sky itself was getting darker and darker at an unrealistic rate.
He stopped. The sky's color stayed the same.
He took a step back. The sky got lighter.
He took a step forward. The sky got darker.
Chris thought for a second, then smirked and broke into a run. Clouds consumed the sky and lightning struck as he charged down the path towards the castle.
He burst through the double doors and slammed them shut behind him. A feeling of cold hit him immediately - the first feeling of discomfort he'd felt since entering this paradise. The hall in front of him was gray and stone and dark, lit by flaming torches. Stairways stabbed out from the main corridor in ways that clearly didn't match the outside of the building. Chris thought hard about how he was going to choose a direction to go in. Then a muffled scream decided for him.
He charged down a flight of steps that curved just enough to hide where they led and seemed to go on for far too long. Eventually, they opened into a large chamber, where a woman was standing calmly facing away at an angle. Her shoulders were relaxed in an inviting, confident stance, and she was screaming through her closed mouth.
Chris slowly walked around her, and as soon as he entered her field of view, her wide, scared eyes snapped to look at him. He reached out and touched her shoulder, and the spell broke. The woman fell to the floor, gasping, finally able to move. She kept screaming for a few seconds, as if to finally get the noise out and be heard in defiance of whatever made her silent. "Where the hell am I?!"
"The nightmare at the heart of the dream."
"Oh good, a poet." She lay on the ground, taking slow breaths. "Thank you. That was the scariest thing ever."
"No problem. The name's Chris Cwej, and right now you're dreaming. None of this is real. Hopefully, that's comforting."
"I'm Sara Willox," said Sara Willox, "I can't believe my dreams are getting worse. At first they were stressful, now they're meta."
"You have a history of bad dreams?"
"Yeah." Sara picked herself up and finally took in all 360 degrees of her surroundings. "Been having a really rough time lately."
"That's a shame. You just missed the dream expert," said Chris, "now, if you'll excuse me, somewhere in this castle is a way to shut this dream world down. What I'd love more than anything is a big red button, those always do the job. The problem is, the closer you get to it the more nightmarish the dream becomes, so you should probably get back to the, uh, paradise area." He turned and gestured to the stairs that didn't exist. "Ah."
"What's through there?" Sara was gesturing to a door that definitely hadn't been there before.
Chris approached slowly and gently pressed on the wood. The door swung open into a room of the castle containing a dark forest of dead trees. The icy wind of the outdoors blew through them. Some of the trees looked like people or creatures, twisted in agony, but the resemblance was obscured just enough to pass as coincidence.
"Don't be scared," Chris muttered, "we're getting close to the nexus point, it shouldn't be long." He took Sara's hand and led her through the contorted trees.
The two walked together through the forest for longer than they could remember, until they came to a glass box in the middle of a clearing. Chris and Sara peered into it and saw a big red button.
"Welcome."
They turned to see an elderly Geldex with green scales running through deep blue.
"Hello," said Sara with a sigh that said 'whatever, I might as well allow this to happen today.'
The Geldex bowed. His scales flickered in the shadow of the forest. "I see you have wandered in here from outside. This must be very distressing for you both, allow me to show you the way back."
"No thank you," said Chris, "we're here to push this button if you don't mind."
The alien already knew that's what he wanted and breathed slowly. "Hytherian spies? I'll admit, I've never seen creatures with your shape before."
"That'll be because we're not Hytherians. You are right about us wandering in here from outside though. We wandered in from outside the Psychosphere. The Hytherians damaged it and created a gap in the system, through which people like Sara here," he gestured, "and my good friend Dr. Jen Ashfield dreamt their way in by mistake. Now, I don't think it's fair that anyone should have to stay here against their will. I'm sorry to say, your paradise resort is putting people in danger, so I'm here to pull the plug. Everyone wakes up in the real world and you can build another Psychosphere some other time. Simple."
The Geldex thought for a moment about how much this human knew, and looked sadly into the glass box. "This is not a 'paradise resort.' This virtual world is our escape from a dying planet. Our goal is to secure the Psychosphere from outsiders, then sever the connection to our physical bodies. The Geldex will live forever, free of physical pain, the need for food or drink. Free of disease!"
"And what about me?" said Sara, "what about all of us, don't we get a say? What if I don't want to leave my physical body forever?"
"This is regretful," said the Geldex, "but the flaws in the Psychosphere might be fixed given time."
"Time doesn't cut it. I should know." Chris stood over the glass box, examining the button. "I'm sorry, but the Psychosphere is dragging other people into your suffering. There's always a chance the Geldex can survive another way, or make a new Psychosphere."
The Geldex knew his mind had already been made. "Our future will be uncertain."
"I'm sorry to say that everyone's is. But let's all make the best of it."
Chris turned to Sara. "Are you ready?" he asked.
"I…don't know…" she stuttered, stepping away from the box.
"Dreams are tricky like that." Chris smiled at her. "Have a good morning."
Chris Cwej shattered the glass. It sounded like an alarm clock.
Sara Willox rubbed her eyes and checked the time on her phone. Her eyes narrowed and she did some mental maths. If she ran through her whole morning routine a little bit quicker later, she'd be able to fit in a few more minutes of sleep now. Sara put the phone down and rolled over to face the wall. That was the weirdest nightmare she'd had so far. Weird because of how real it was. The whole thing hung in her memory, refusing to fade.
She rolled back towards her phone, opened the internet, and stared at the blank google search bar. Maybe it was finally time to get some professional help. She was going to find a dream expert.
Sara thought back to her nightmare as she wondered what to search. Slowly, she typed in 'Dr. Jen Ashfield.'
A publication of Arcbeatle Press
Copyright 2020, Arcbeatle Press, all rights reserved.
Chris Cwej, Cwej, and related original material is the creation and property of Andy Lane. Used with permission.
Illustration by Callum and Stuart Brown
Edited by Hunter O’Connell
Assistance and additional editing by James Hornby, Tomoko M. Banks, James Wylder, and Daisy Schopmeyer
Arcbeatle Press is located in Elkhart, IN
Copyright 2020, Arcbeatle Press, all rights reserved.
Chris Cwej, Cwej, and related original material is the creation and property of Andy Lane. Used with permission.
Illustration by Callum and Stuart Brown
Edited by Hunter O’Connell
Assistance and additional editing by James Hornby, Tomoko M. Banks, James Wylder, and Daisy Schopmeyer
Arcbeatle Press is located in Elkhart, IN
- Published on
Returns in
Out of the Shadows
Arcbeatle Press is excited to announce a new publishing partnership with BBV, to produce new fiction set in the world of the P.R.O.B.E. video series. A spin off of TV’s Doctor Who, P.R.O.B.E. follows more personal, darker, and mysterious adventures than its parent show.
In the new collection, Out of the Shadows, readers will follow a new team of P.R.O.B.E. members as they delve into a hidden world of monsters, ghosts, and aliens.
The book will be edited by James Hornby (The Roc's Feather) and Genevieve Clovis (10,000 Dawns: Poor Man’s Iliad, Lady Aesculapius), with supervision by Hunter O'Connell and publisher James Wylder.
Project Supervisor Hunter O'Connell said, "I'm so glad to have gotten in contact with Bill Baggs and become acquainted with him enough to get the rights for P.R.O.B.E. and its associated concepts. P.R.O.B.E. has always been a dream of mine to obtain the rights to continue, and now that Out of the Shadows is being created as the successor to the original five films, I feel we can finally explore this corner of the Doctor Who Universe more thoroughly, and allow readers to come with the characters on all sorts of adventures!"
Ebook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09HMB1J6V
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09HQ7FDCQ
Logo by Lucas Kovacs, artwork by Callum and Stuart Brown. P.R.O.B.E. © BBV, used under license.
In the new collection, Out of the Shadows, readers will follow a new team of P.R.O.B.E. members as they delve into a hidden world of monsters, ghosts, and aliens.
The book will be edited by James Hornby (The Roc's Feather) and Genevieve Clovis (10,000 Dawns: Poor Man’s Iliad, Lady Aesculapius), with supervision by Hunter O'Connell and publisher James Wylder.
Project Supervisor Hunter O'Connell said, "I'm so glad to have gotten in contact with Bill Baggs and become acquainted with him enough to get the rights for P.R.O.B.E. and its associated concepts. P.R.O.B.E. has always been a dream of mine to obtain the rights to continue, and now that Out of the Shadows is being created as the successor to the original five films, I feel we can finally explore this corner of the Doctor Who Universe more thoroughly, and allow readers to come with the characters on all sorts of adventures!"
Ebook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09HMB1J6V
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09HQ7FDCQ
Logo by Lucas Kovacs, artwork by Callum and Stuart Brown. P.R.O.B.E. © BBV, used under license.
- Published on
We're back! After a personal injury, and Covid-19, threw us for loops, we're really happy to bring you a brand new WARS adventure. Writer James Wylder has wanted to tackle this story since he first read about this aspect of WARS years ago, and we hope you enjoy the result.
Happy Easter if you celebrate it, and good wishes for a better rest to our year. Please take care, be well, and enjoy our little tale of sci-fi adventure in a different space than we're used to seeing.... -The AP Team
Happy Easter if you celebrate it, and good wishes for a better rest to our year. Please take care, be well, and enjoy our little tale of sci-fi adventure in a different space than we're used to seeing.... -The AP Team
WARS: So Spake the Space Pope
By James Wylder
Art by Callum Brown
Part 1: The Pontiff and the Priest
Father Jonna was waiting for the Holy Mother to finish praying, and scolded himself for wishing she'd hurry up already. He didn't recognize her authority, he wouldn't recognize it. She was, after all, a government appointed stooge meant entirely to reduce the power of the Holy See. But he had to give her this: she was taking her job more seriously than the last guy.
After what seemed like forever, she rose to her feet, bowed her head and crossed herself, then turned around with a sweet smile.
"Father Jonna, I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. You have come so far just to see me," she was young, much younger looking in person than he would have guessed from being twenty-five. She could have passed as a teenager.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Lifen. Prayer is as essential as food, after all."
"But without food, one couldn't pray. Because you'd be dead." She giggled at his startled face, and the modicum of respect he'd managed to shore up drifted away, "Oh, forgive me, I'm teasing you. I am truly grateful you waited for me."
She held her hand out, ah, of course: kiss the ring. He did so, even as he felt he was debasing himself with the action.
"Of course, it is forgotten."
"Thank you, and could you do me the favor of calling me Flavia? I'm still getting used to being addressed by it."
Flavia. Ugh. The previous Holy Father had taken a new name as well, but he'd used it more out of obligation than anything else. Jonna and he had had many good nights together discussing theology, soccer, and wine. He supposed the wine had helped lead to his death, not that Holy Father Amorkuza had been a spring chicken.
"Of course, Holy Mother Flavia, the first. This is our first time meeting, so as the representative of the true church," he put a little extra emphasis on 'true', "I hope we can establish a beneficial relationship."
She smiled, "I hope for the same. And there are...definitely matters the two of us need to discuss," her eyes darted to the side as her voice trailed off. Curious. Unabashedly, she hooked him under the arm like he was her grandfather, "let's go for a walk in the garden. The Basilica is beautiful, but I prefer the works of God's hands."
She practically dragged him out of the building, as the security guards tried to toddle after them. But she had Jonna out the door, and had locked it, before they'd managed to catch up.
Out of view, she pulled her habit off, and scratched her scalp furiously, "You know, I never really wore hats before this, this is still an adjustment," she pulled the habit back on, and gave him a warm smile to his disapproving gaze.
The garden was, in fact, beautiful. It was a greenhouse attached to the side of the church, with lamps blazing down to keep the wide array of plants growing strong. Through it wound a carefully paved path that led to a dining area, sitting spaces, and an "outdoor" theater space. It was a very pleasant place, and he knew the Tenryu party of Mars reserved it often for their own events. Flavia started down the path, and he matched her pace.
"I suppose we should get straight to the point," she pulled a device out of her pocket, and clicked it on. A soft buzzing permeated the area. He'd probably have a headache by the time they were done, but it was worth it for the chance of having a conversation unencumbered by listening devices. "You don't like me at all do you?"
"No."
"I thought so. Well, that's a pity, but hopefully we can improve our relations for the good of the Church."
He tensed his shoulders, "May I be blunt?"
She waggled the sound disruptor back and forth.
"You're a child who has been given extraordinary power because your father is a Tenryu party official. The Marsian government will easily manipulate you so they can enjoy greater oversight of the Church on Mars."
"Then let me be blunt in return," she started with a smile, but it faded into a face of stone. She blocked him on the path, and despite being at least twenty centimeters shorter than him, seemed to grow a whole meter in height as her brows furrowed, and the angle of her face lowered. "I am the Holy Mother Flavia the first, chosen by God to lead the church on Gongen. I am the Bishop of Takumi, the Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff and Primate of Gongen, and Servant of the Servants of God and you will treat me the respect I have earned."
He could hear his own heartbeat. Feel the blood that had rushed to his face. Against his good judgment, he felt his head nod once.
She smiled, closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side in a tactically cute pose, "Then now that we have that established, Father, let me bring us to our second order of business."
He felt relief to be back to something normal, "Ah yes, the matter of the Vatican's recognition of you--"
"No Father, the second order of business is that Holy Father Amakusa was murdered, and I am fairly certain I'm the next target."
There was a long silence. It felt like time had stopped, the buzzing from the disrupter was suffocating.
"Say that again?"
* * *
One year ago.
"You shouldn't drink so much," Jonna said.
"I'll drink as much as I want, I'm the Holy Father after all," Amakusa replied, "and I'm too old to be too particular."
The banquet was winding down anyway, the begrudging speeches about the unity between the Marsian and Earth branches of the church finally over. "Thou shalt not bear false witness," was going to be a popular sin at everyone's next confession.
"Jonna, we've been talking about my successor. Obviously we'd like to pick someone the church and the Tenryu party can both be pleased with."
"You're not in the ground yet, Holy Father."
He grumbled, the way only an old man can, "But I will be, so stop fussing about it. You realize tensions here are terrible at the moment?"
He nodded, that was abundantly clear. "Anything we can do to bring our two worlds back in harmony would be a blessing."
"Exactly. You see the man, oh what's the boy's name? The assistant to Ambassador Martin?"
"Kippli Darnel."
"Yes, him, you see the man he's talking to?"
"Cardinal Nakamura Shiki?" he was a tall man, surprisingly muscular, with that spangle of grey in the hair that seemed to be the perfect balance of youth and wisdom.
"He's been a Tenryu party member since childhood, but he's devout. A good man too. Put him forward to your superiors, start floating the name. My real fear is," he gestured with his glass, "Cardinal Mishima over there. A priest appointed by the party, and risen in rank because they held it over our heads as the price of free worship. If he's chosen, expect outright revolt."
There were too many people who would benefit from such a choice to count. Certain parties in the CGC would love to push a flare up of anti-Tenryu sentiment. Protests, a riot, just what the strategists ordered. "I'll watch out for him."
"Holy Father? There is a young woman who'd like to speak with you if you have a moment?"
Amakusa looked over at Jonna, the wrinkled loose skin of his face gently giggling with the motion, "You don't mind do you?"
With a head shake, the young lady approached, knelt, and kissed the pontiff's ring.
"And who do I have the honor of meeting today?" the Holy Father asked.
"Houng Lifen, your holiness."
He laughed, "For tonight, just Amakuza will do. I believe I've heard your name before?"
She put her hands together on her lap, she was in a very nice but simple and modest dress, "My father is the transport minister in the Atarashii Hajimari, but I am a theology graduate student at the University of Takumi."
Of course her father was. Just another child of a high ranking official getting their perks in for the evening. That there was a Catholic on the Atarashii Hajimari was news to him though, that was incredible progress. No wonder she was getting a perk.
"And how can I help you today?"
He wasn't exactly sure what to expect from her, but the response surprised him nonetheless, "I read your treaty on the Arian heresy and Arius' appearance at the council of Nicaea, and while it was very good--"
He laughed, "Jonna, "while it was very good", there's a critique coming. I can see it."
She blushed, "Ah, well...yes, you see Arius' opinion that Jesus and God were separate entities..."
The actual discussion was lost to memory. But he hadn't forgotten her, and that brash question. Still, he'd never guessed she'd be the Pontiff of Mars in a year.
* * *
They had sat down under an apricot tree, and she'd unlocked the door so her security guards could bring them some chilled chrysanthemum tea. They chatted about nothing in particular for a little, till he brought them back to task:
"So...what proof do you have that he was murdered?"
She took a sip of tea, and stared out at the garden as the automatic misters kicked on. "I got access to his mail and files after my election. He suspected someone was going to kill him, enough so that he wrote his successor a letter explaining as much," she opened her palm to reveal a tiny data chip, and then carefully rested her hand on the bench. He rested his hand there too once she picked hers up, and dropped the chip into his pocket.
"I see you don't trust your security detail particularly well."
"I don't. I don't know who is after me, so it's difficult to trust a group of men and women who couldn't keep my predecessor alive. If they were involved, then it's a chance I wouldn't like to take."
He stewed on that for a moment.
"You need to bring on a personal bodyguard for the moment. At least a temporary one. Can't your father call in any favors?"
She sighed, "Probably. I'd hate to ask him though. I don't want anyone getting the assumption I just got this position through my family connections."
"Didn't you?"
She held a stern look on him till he turned away. "Regardless, I'm looking forward to my first Easter service as Holy Mother."
"Do you...know how to hold a mass? You were just a theology student, you never took holy orders."
"I've been practicing, and I've watched a lot of videos online."
Very reassuring.
* * *
Far away, there was a dark street lit only by the flickering of holograms, neon, and scrolling screens. On that street, in a soaring apartment in a cheap high rise, there was a clatter on the balcony. This was not too unusual to the occupant, not was it scary. Nearly always it meant work. And if it didn't mean work, it meant a nice brawl to cap off his evening because he'd done his job well and pissed someone off. There was a knock on the window, and he pulled some pants on, grabbed a pistol, and took one last firm drag from his ecig.
The jetpack courier, a middle aged Korean woman in black armor, held up an envelope. He slid the door open and grabbed it, handing her a credit chip for a tip.
He was a professional, you always tip the courier.
She blasted off as he ripped the envelope open. He memorized his target, and all the details, and then burned it. Message received. This one would be fun, it wasn't often he got the same job twice in a row.
Goodbye, Holy Mother. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Part 2: The Escort and the Executioner
"Do you know why you have been called here today, Hotaru?"
"You're firing me?"
Sato Shintaro sighed, "No, I am not firing you. I have an important mission for you."
She'd shown up for the meeting in casual dress, it was her day off after all, but Shintaro still found it odd seeing her looking like she was about to just go off to the shops, hands popped in the pockets of her jackets. You could still tell she was tremendously ripped, actually it was probably easier without the armor on. "My father got a request from a member of the Atarshi Hajimari for protection for his daughter, under the table protection. It will pay handsomely, and pay an important service to the Gongen people."
She shrugged, sure, "Who would I be protecting, anyone I've heard of?"
Shintaro gave her a sheepish grin, "Guess."
"Nope."
"It's the Holy Mother, Flavia the First."
The Holy Mother would not have approved of the next words out of her mouth.
* * *
She met the Holy Mother, Bishop of Takumi etc, at the train station, where she was standing with a priest whose whole demeanor just screamed "Earther."
She held a hand up, and the Holy Mother's hand came up in return, "You're our fearless protector?"
"I'm certainly your protector, isn't it dangerous to be out at a train station like this, don't you have private transport."
"I have been chosen to help the people, so I'm no good if I'm not out among them."
She was dressed in all white, from the habit down to the shoes, only the simple cross around her neck and the golden signet ring on her hand breaking the color scheme. Her getting "elected," if you could call any sort of thing that happened on Gongen involving an election an election and not a very dressed up party order, had been a big scandal. Nobody had been happy about it, and everyone seemed to assume everyone else had been happy. A big old mess. She could remember eating some tamago gohan for breakfast as two men yelled about whether or not picking a woman was some sort of jab at the Vatican or the CGC or something something.
The train pulled in, and they got on. There hadn't been anyone at the station, but the car was packed with travellers. At first, there were a lot of looks, "Is that who I think it is?" each said. And then the first person got brave enough to go up to her. The Holy Mother blessed them, and then Hotaru was running crowd control.
"Pose like this!" a kid said, holding their phone out to get the two of them together in the image.
"Like this? What's this called?" She mimicked the pose, putting both of her forearms in a parallel diagonal framing her face.
"Crezzing! You've got it. Say cheese..."
She took more selfies than Hotaru could count. Each one of those phones could be an infernal device meant to kill her, but what was she supposed to do here? Tell the leader of a religion to stop being nice to kids?
Flavia gave a bunch of hugs, and then bid adieu as they reached their destination, the kids yelling out, "Thank you Space Pope!" as they exited and began their walk back towards the Basilica of Takumi.
"Space Pope. Are you getting delusions of grandeur?" Jonna crooned.
She shook her head, "Of course not, they're children, thinking of me as the 'Space Pope' is an easy way for them to comprehend my role here. I'm not the Pope, just a half step down as the Holy Mother of Gongen. They'll understand as they get older."
"I'm not sure everyone does. I'm sure the Tenryu party would love to annoint you...Space Pope."
She just smiled back at him sadly till he continued.
"But as for all of that with the train...It's admirable what you're trying to do, Flavia, but everyone tries to do that when they start. You'll burn out of it quickly. If you're available all of the time, you will have nothing left to give in the times that truly matter. A moment of peace while travelling can be a blessing."
She held her head high, "Then I will enjoy it while I still can, until I burn out from it, Father Jonna."
He looked back at Hotaru, who could only shrug. She wasn't even Christian.
"Tell me about yourself, Hotaru. If we are to be together for a while, I'd like to be friends."
Well, that was unexpected, though maybe it shouldn't have been, "I'm in the service of the Sato family. I've protected both Sato brothers at one time or another, but currently serve at the bequest of Sato Shintaro, who has lent you my services."
Father Jonna raised an eyebrow at Flavia, "Well well, a bodyguard straight from the President's Son. Isn't that interesting."
She sighed, "He is obsessed with reminding me of my family's connections. This is why I hesitated to use them."
"I promise to do my best to live up to the expectations of your displeasure."
She laughed, "I appreciate that, but I trust in your skill..." she trailed off, frowning. At the front of the Basilica was a small crowd holding signs and chanting. One was dressed like the Holy Mother, only wearing grotesque and mocking makeup. She danced around in front of the group with her tongue out.
Hotaru begged all the way for her to not, as the Holy Mother walked up to the protestors.
She bowed, "Good evening. May the Lord God keep and bless you--"
"We don't need your lies, you Tenryu party puppet!"
"--may he take away your sins--"
"What'd you have to do for the President to get the job huh?"
"--and lead you to everlasting life--
"Or did you just cry to daddy?" Laughter.
"--Amen."
She stood and prayed quietly for a few more moments, crossed herself, and began to walk back towards the basilica again. Hotaru kept close behind her, because some of the protestors followed. She moved her hand close to her Katana, then pretended to just scratch an itch, and a few turned around. But the one in the make up didn't stop. She kept coming, hurling invectives at her. Flavia stepped inside the church, and as the door shut Hotaru hoped that would be it.
It wasn't. The fake slammed it open, continuing to yell. The church security moved to remove her, but Flavia stopped them.
She stood there, taking the hurled insults, until the woman tired, and Flavia bowed to her.
"Thank you for your passion for the faith. I hope in the future you will be more pleased with my service to the flock. May the lord bless you."
The women stared, the makeup looking ludacris with her shocked expression. She was unable to find words, so she turned around and pushed back through the doors.
"Well, I suppose that went about as well as we could have hoped," Flavia said.
Jonna was about to reply, when they heard the shot.
Hotaru knew it instantly: high powered plasma bolt, likely a heavily modified ColtBurton Tangier-2. She grabbed the Holy Mother's arm as she tried to bolt for the sound, "It's not safe, that was a sniper round. You're staying here."
Her eyes softened, okay good, she understood. Then the cry of pain came from outside.
"Let go of me now. If you want to keep me safe, then do that while we get her inside. That's an order, if that helps," she slipped out of her suddenly loose grip. Yes, ma'am.
Drawing her pistol, Hotaru ran in front of the injured woman, scanning the area as Flavia pulled her inside. Okay, going okay.
Then the second shot.
Never think it's going okay, you idiot.
It tore through Flavia's upper arm, but she finished pulling the injured woman inside with one final heave, and ripped her habit off to hold over the wound as she put pressure on it, ignoring her own bleeding. A third shot rang out, and the door proved to be stronger than it looked.
"Hotaru, what do we do now?"
"We need to move you out of here."
"I'm not leaving her!"
She cursed, and pointed at one of the useless security detail, "You, take over first aid for the Holy Mother, the rest of you fan out and start looking for where the assassin will try to enter."
Hotaru helped Flavia up, the security guard seemed more skilled at first aid anyway, but she was clearly in shock, looking at her red hands. Father Jonna looked stunned too. Hotaru quickly began to wrap the wound on Flavia's arm as much as she could.
"Is there a back entrance?"
"There's a lot of them, it's a huge complex."
That wasn't good. The whole mission had gone bottoms up too quickly.
"Choose one, we'll go out that way."
Jonna seemed to snap into gear, "...The garden. There's an exit we can take from there right into the parking garage."
Finally, some good news, "Perfect. Let's move, don't waste any more time."
* * *
He hadn't expected the decoy. Though in hindsight, maybe she wasn't a decoy. One of those protestors? Either way, it should have been a one-shot-one-kill job. He'd loused it up. So now he could either call it off and regroup, or try to catch them while they fled.
It'd been a while since he'd really gone hunting like that. Not since he'd been kicked out of the Yakuza. The thought excited him. Yes, this would do nicely.
* * *
The man looked lost, stumbling around by the broken window, jaw trembling, eyes wide. This whole thing was more than Li had signed up for as part of the security here at the Basilica, usually things were easy. Boring even. Good pay, low danger. Now he was trying to lead out shocked parishioner after shocked parishioner to where the city police were gathering them to question them and later hook them up with counselling.
"Sir, we're evacuating the building, could you please follow me."
He stumbled towards him, eyes watering, "So much blood, in a church! How could they?"
"It's terrible, I know, please just come with me."
"Please, just tell me, did the Holy Mother..."
"She's safe, she escaped through the garden, now come here."
He let the man get close, he'd put an arm around him and guide him out.
Or rather, he would have. If the man's face hadn't turned stone cold, his strong hands around Li's neck and head.
There was a snap.
And the assassin continued on his way.
* * *
Hotaru kept glancing back as Jonna led them, his arm supporting Flavira to keep her going forward. Her arm clearly was in agony, and she admired that she had kept moving at all, "Just keep going Flavia, we're almost there," he said.
Hotaru was glad to hear that, but also wasn't surprised when she saw the faint outline of a figure moving behind the trees. She followed the shape with her pistol, it was moving too silently and intentionally to be a friend. It was stalking prey.
So she let out a spray of fire.
It burned through the trunks of trees, and the branches of bushes, and there was a soft, "ungh," not a moan or cry of agony, but the soft reaction of someone too familiar with the sensation. She steadied herself, "Get cover, now!"
It was almost too late, but also just in time. Flavia and Jonna dove behind a big planter, but a blast caught her in the calf, and she cried out again.
Hotaru tried to get in the way of the blasts, and probably saved Jonna's life as one hit her shoulder plate.
Come on, you coward come out. Her pistol was out, ready, and then half of it dropped off.
She looked to her right, and there he was, his torso, arms, and face layered in tattoos. She was thankful.
She had never been as good with a gun as she had in a melee. The gun was her first obstacle: it was taking up her hand, after all, so she threw it as hard as she could at the man's face. The other hand went back for her own blade, and drew it out, all of her body moving in one fluid motion. The man seamlessly ducked to the right, dodging the gun.
Good. She pulled her sword down at a diagonal, forcing him to choose between going hard into the direction he'd leaned into and losing his balance, or moving his blade up to parry her from below, turning his torso to the right in the process.
He chose to parry, and her foot came up lighting quick, catching him in the spine as he stopped her blade.
He wasn't out yet though, he threw himself sideways, slamming into her. She stumbled back, staying standing but losing her advantageous position. He came back in with a flurry of swipes, and she parried them, looking for an opening. He was fast--he'd wear her down quick if he kept this up. Then she heard it. A faint hiss above her head.
She had her move. She backed up into a flower garden, trampling backwards through it to the other side, and he followed, matching her steps. She stopped. He raised an eyebrow.
The automatic misters turned on.
It was half a second. All he did was glance up, but it was too long. She raked her katana across his chest, and it was over. She panted, looking down at him, as he looked up at her. He tried to say something through the blood in his mouth, but it was incomprehensible.
And then, she arrived.
She wasn't so much crawling as dragging herself with one arm, the Holy Mother pulling herself into the flowerbed, and kneeling next to the dying assassin. She stroked his head, and asked if he would like her to pray for him. He gave a small nod. And she did, till he faded away.
Then she looked up at Hotaru, tears in her eyes, a sad smile across her face, and promptly passed out from blood loss.
Part 3: Easter and the Estimation
"Now go in peace to love and serve the lord!"
The Holy Mother waved at the camera like she was on a normal video call, and Jonna breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, doing an Easter Mass over video from her hospital room was unusual, but under the circumstances it seemed to be exactly what she and the people of Gon--Mars, needed.
He made his way over after the camera crew and her nurses got out of the way, and gave her a smile, which she returned.
"Well, not the way I wanted my first Easter sermon to go, but I think I did alright, considering I could only move one arm."
He looked at the liquid-filled casts around her arm and leg, "What's the prognosis?"
"Hmn? Oh, I'll be fine, it'll just take some time. You can't stop the Holy Mother that easily," she winked.
Hotaru sighed from her bedside, "You are too optimistic about this. You're worse than Shintaro."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
She shook her head, and Jonna used the opportunity to cut in.
"Any update on who sent the assassin?"
Hotaru looked up at him.
* * *
Shintaro and Hotaru looked down at the report. They stared at what it said for a long time till Shin lowered the tablet.
Their eyes met.
Hotaru nodded.
He handed her the memory card the report was on.
And she stomped it to pieces on the tiled floor.
* * *
"It's still a mystery, I'm afraid."
He sighed, of course it was.
The Holy Mother just shrugged, "I'm sure whoever it was is in need of love. I just wish..."
There was a knock on the door, it was a member of the much-increased security detail, "Holy mother, there's someone here to visit you?"
Jonna dismissed it with a wave of his hand, "Everyone wants to visit her. She needs rest."
"...She says the Holy Mother saved her life during the incident."
Flavia closed her eyes, "With the Lord, all things are possible, even wishes."
* * *
Two Months Earlier
Filling Amorkuza’s shoes was proving to be much more difficult than anyone had anticipated. Everyone had assumed the Tenryu Party would come into the event ready to ramrod through Cardinal Mishima, but as it turned out a lot of party members just didn’t like the man. The voting was rigged here, of course, the Tenryu Party had far more representation than the Church did, but they still had anticipated voting in a unified bloc.
That was when she came in.
The double doors swung open, and there she was, security scampering after her as the throng of children she’d brought with her blocked their path. Her light blue dress flowed behind her, as she clutched both hands over her heart.
“Brothers and sisters, you have found yourself stuck.”
“Get her out of here!” some party official yelled, and then she looked at him firmly, and he pursed his lips.
She kept walking forward, till she reached the front of the room, “You have no good answer on who will lead the Church on Gongen, and you’re frustrated. Well I tell you, God gave you that frustration, and he has given me a vision: a vision of a new future for the Gongen Church. She turned to face the room, “So I would ask you to pray. Ask God, and yourselves, who do you want to lead you into the future? Someone who has divided you, or the one God chose for you: Houng Lifen”
There was the sound of fingers tapping on tablet screens, and eyes squinting.
“Ah, sorry yes, I’m on the sixth page of the ballot. Near the bottom.”
* * *
One Month After Easter, The Vatican, Earth.
The panel of cardinals looked at Father Jonna seriously, "Well, Father, we have waited anxiously for your opinion on the new government-appointed mockery. What is your estimation of her?
He looked down at his hands, and the corner of his lip turned up.
"Honestly? I like her."
A publication of Arcbealte Press.
Art by Callum Brown
Story by James Wylder
Copyright 2020, Arcbeatle Press and Decipher, Inc.
WARS is the property of Decipher, Inc.
Arcbeatle Press is located in beautiful Elkhart, Indiana
Father Jonna was waiting for the Holy Mother to finish praying, and scolded himself for wishing she'd hurry up already. He didn't recognize her authority, he wouldn't recognize it. She was, after all, a government appointed stooge meant entirely to reduce the power of the Holy See. But he had to give her this: she was taking her job more seriously than the last guy.
After what seemed like forever, she rose to her feet, bowed her head and crossed herself, then turned around with a sweet smile.
"Father Jonna, I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. You have come so far just to see me," she was young, much younger looking in person than he would have guessed from being twenty-five. She could have passed as a teenager.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Lifen. Prayer is as essential as food, after all."
"But without food, one couldn't pray. Because you'd be dead." She giggled at his startled face, and the modicum of respect he'd managed to shore up drifted away, "Oh, forgive me, I'm teasing you. I am truly grateful you waited for me."
She held her hand out, ah, of course: kiss the ring. He did so, even as he felt he was debasing himself with the action.
"Of course, it is forgotten."
"Thank you, and could you do me the favor of calling me Flavia? I'm still getting used to being addressed by it."
Flavia. Ugh. The previous Holy Father had taken a new name as well, but he'd used it more out of obligation than anything else. Jonna and he had had many good nights together discussing theology, soccer, and wine. He supposed the wine had helped lead to his death, not that Holy Father Amorkuza had been a spring chicken.
"Of course, Holy Mother Flavia, the first. This is our first time meeting, so as the representative of the true church," he put a little extra emphasis on 'true', "I hope we can establish a beneficial relationship."
She smiled, "I hope for the same. And there are...definitely matters the two of us need to discuss," her eyes darted to the side as her voice trailed off. Curious. Unabashedly, she hooked him under the arm like he was her grandfather, "let's go for a walk in the garden. The Basilica is beautiful, but I prefer the works of God's hands."
She practically dragged him out of the building, as the security guards tried to toddle after them. But she had Jonna out the door, and had locked it, before they'd managed to catch up.
Out of view, she pulled her habit off, and scratched her scalp furiously, "You know, I never really wore hats before this, this is still an adjustment," she pulled the habit back on, and gave him a warm smile to his disapproving gaze.
The garden was, in fact, beautiful. It was a greenhouse attached to the side of the church, with lamps blazing down to keep the wide array of plants growing strong. Through it wound a carefully paved path that led to a dining area, sitting spaces, and an "outdoor" theater space. It was a very pleasant place, and he knew the Tenryu party of Mars reserved it often for their own events. Flavia started down the path, and he matched her pace.
"I suppose we should get straight to the point," she pulled a device out of her pocket, and clicked it on. A soft buzzing permeated the area. He'd probably have a headache by the time they were done, but it was worth it for the chance of having a conversation unencumbered by listening devices. "You don't like me at all do you?"
"No."
"I thought so. Well, that's a pity, but hopefully we can improve our relations for the good of the Church."
He tensed his shoulders, "May I be blunt?"
She waggled the sound disruptor back and forth.
"You're a child who has been given extraordinary power because your father is a Tenryu party official. The Marsian government will easily manipulate you so they can enjoy greater oversight of the Church on Mars."
"Then let me be blunt in return," she started with a smile, but it faded into a face of stone. She blocked him on the path, and despite being at least twenty centimeters shorter than him, seemed to grow a whole meter in height as her brows furrowed, and the angle of her face lowered. "I am the Holy Mother Flavia the first, chosen by God to lead the church on Gongen. I am the Bishop of Takumi, the Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff and Primate of Gongen, and Servant of the Servants of God and you will treat me the respect I have earned."
He could hear his own heartbeat. Feel the blood that had rushed to his face. Against his good judgment, he felt his head nod once.
She smiled, closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side in a tactically cute pose, "Then now that we have that established, Father, let me bring us to our second order of business."
He felt relief to be back to something normal, "Ah yes, the matter of the Vatican's recognition of you--"
"No Father, the second order of business is that Holy Father Amakusa was murdered, and I am fairly certain I'm the next target."
There was a long silence. It felt like time had stopped, the buzzing from the disrupter was suffocating.
"Say that again?"
* * *
One year ago.
"You shouldn't drink so much," Jonna said.
"I'll drink as much as I want, I'm the Holy Father after all," Amakusa replied, "and I'm too old to be too particular."
The banquet was winding down anyway, the begrudging speeches about the unity between the Marsian and Earth branches of the church finally over. "Thou shalt not bear false witness," was going to be a popular sin at everyone's next confession.
"Jonna, we've been talking about my successor. Obviously we'd like to pick someone the church and the Tenryu party can both be pleased with."
"You're not in the ground yet, Holy Father."
He grumbled, the way only an old man can, "But I will be, so stop fussing about it. You realize tensions here are terrible at the moment?"
He nodded, that was abundantly clear. "Anything we can do to bring our two worlds back in harmony would be a blessing."
"Exactly. You see the man, oh what's the boy's name? The assistant to Ambassador Martin?"
"Kippli Darnel."
"Yes, him, you see the man he's talking to?"
"Cardinal Nakamura Shiki?" he was a tall man, surprisingly muscular, with that spangle of grey in the hair that seemed to be the perfect balance of youth and wisdom.
"He's been a Tenryu party member since childhood, but he's devout. A good man too. Put him forward to your superiors, start floating the name. My real fear is," he gestured with his glass, "Cardinal Mishima over there. A priest appointed by the party, and risen in rank because they held it over our heads as the price of free worship. If he's chosen, expect outright revolt."
There were too many people who would benefit from such a choice to count. Certain parties in the CGC would love to push a flare up of anti-Tenryu sentiment. Protests, a riot, just what the strategists ordered. "I'll watch out for him."
"Holy Father? There is a young woman who'd like to speak with you if you have a moment?"
Amakusa looked over at Jonna, the wrinkled loose skin of his face gently giggling with the motion, "You don't mind do you?"
With a head shake, the young lady approached, knelt, and kissed the pontiff's ring.
"And who do I have the honor of meeting today?" the Holy Father asked.
"Houng Lifen, your holiness."
He laughed, "For tonight, just Amakuza will do. I believe I've heard your name before?"
She put her hands together on her lap, she was in a very nice but simple and modest dress, "My father is the transport minister in the Atarashii Hajimari, but I am a theology graduate student at the University of Takumi."
Of course her father was. Just another child of a high ranking official getting their perks in for the evening. That there was a Catholic on the Atarashii Hajimari was news to him though, that was incredible progress. No wonder she was getting a perk.
"And how can I help you today?"
He wasn't exactly sure what to expect from her, but the response surprised him nonetheless, "I read your treaty on the Arian heresy and Arius' appearance at the council of Nicaea, and while it was very good--"
He laughed, "Jonna, "while it was very good", there's a critique coming. I can see it."
She blushed, "Ah, well...yes, you see Arius' opinion that Jesus and God were separate entities..."
The actual discussion was lost to memory. But he hadn't forgotten her, and that brash question. Still, he'd never guessed she'd be the Pontiff of Mars in a year.
* * *
They had sat down under an apricot tree, and she'd unlocked the door so her security guards could bring them some chilled chrysanthemum tea. They chatted about nothing in particular for a little, till he brought them back to task:
"So...what proof do you have that he was murdered?"
She took a sip of tea, and stared out at the garden as the automatic misters kicked on. "I got access to his mail and files after my election. He suspected someone was going to kill him, enough so that he wrote his successor a letter explaining as much," she opened her palm to reveal a tiny data chip, and then carefully rested her hand on the bench. He rested his hand there too once she picked hers up, and dropped the chip into his pocket.
"I see you don't trust your security detail particularly well."
"I don't. I don't know who is after me, so it's difficult to trust a group of men and women who couldn't keep my predecessor alive. If they were involved, then it's a chance I wouldn't like to take."
He stewed on that for a moment.
"You need to bring on a personal bodyguard for the moment. At least a temporary one. Can't your father call in any favors?"
She sighed, "Probably. I'd hate to ask him though. I don't want anyone getting the assumption I just got this position through my family connections."
"Didn't you?"
She held a stern look on him till he turned away. "Regardless, I'm looking forward to my first Easter service as Holy Mother."
"Do you...know how to hold a mass? You were just a theology student, you never took holy orders."
"I've been practicing, and I've watched a lot of videos online."
Very reassuring.
* * *
Far away, there was a dark street lit only by the flickering of holograms, neon, and scrolling screens. On that street, in a soaring apartment in a cheap high rise, there was a clatter on the balcony. This was not too unusual to the occupant, not was it scary. Nearly always it meant work. And if it didn't mean work, it meant a nice brawl to cap off his evening because he'd done his job well and pissed someone off. There was a knock on the window, and he pulled some pants on, grabbed a pistol, and took one last firm drag from his ecig.
The jetpack courier, a middle aged Korean woman in black armor, held up an envelope. He slid the door open and grabbed it, handing her a credit chip for a tip.
He was a professional, you always tip the courier.
She blasted off as he ripped the envelope open. He memorized his target, and all the details, and then burned it. Message received. This one would be fun, it wasn't often he got the same job twice in a row.
Goodbye, Holy Mother. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Part 2: The Escort and the Executioner
"Do you know why you have been called here today, Hotaru?"
"You're firing me?"
Sato Shintaro sighed, "No, I am not firing you. I have an important mission for you."
She'd shown up for the meeting in casual dress, it was her day off after all, but Shintaro still found it odd seeing her looking like she was about to just go off to the shops, hands popped in the pockets of her jackets. You could still tell she was tremendously ripped, actually it was probably easier without the armor on. "My father got a request from a member of the Atarshi Hajimari for protection for his daughter, under the table protection. It will pay handsomely, and pay an important service to the Gongen people."
She shrugged, sure, "Who would I be protecting, anyone I've heard of?"
Shintaro gave her a sheepish grin, "Guess."
"Nope."
"It's the Holy Mother, Flavia the First."
The Holy Mother would not have approved of the next words out of her mouth.
* * *
She met the Holy Mother, Bishop of Takumi etc, at the train station, where she was standing with a priest whose whole demeanor just screamed "Earther."
She held a hand up, and the Holy Mother's hand came up in return, "You're our fearless protector?"
"I'm certainly your protector, isn't it dangerous to be out at a train station like this, don't you have private transport."
"I have been chosen to help the people, so I'm no good if I'm not out among them."
She was dressed in all white, from the habit down to the shoes, only the simple cross around her neck and the golden signet ring on her hand breaking the color scheme. Her getting "elected," if you could call any sort of thing that happened on Gongen involving an election an election and not a very dressed up party order, had been a big scandal. Nobody had been happy about it, and everyone seemed to assume everyone else had been happy. A big old mess. She could remember eating some tamago gohan for breakfast as two men yelled about whether or not picking a woman was some sort of jab at the Vatican or the CGC or something something.
The train pulled in, and they got on. There hadn't been anyone at the station, but the car was packed with travellers. At first, there were a lot of looks, "Is that who I think it is?" each said. And then the first person got brave enough to go up to her. The Holy Mother blessed them, and then Hotaru was running crowd control.
"Pose like this!" a kid said, holding their phone out to get the two of them together in the image.
"Like this? What's this called?" She mimicked the pose, putting both of her forearms in a parallel diagonal framing her face.
"Crezzing! You've got it. Say cheese..."
She took more selfies than Hotaru could count. Each one of those phones could be an infernal device meant to kill her, but what was she supposed to do here? Tell the leader of a religion to stop being nice to kids?
Flavia gave a bunch of hugs, and then bid adieu as they reached their destination, the kids yelling out, "Thank you Space Pope!" as they exited and began their walk back towards the Basilica of Takumi.
"Space Pope. Are you getting delusions of grandeur?" Jonna crooned.
She shook her head, "Of course not, they're children, thinking of me as the 'Space Pope' is an easy way for them to comprehend my role here. I'm not the Pope, just a half step down as the Holy Mother of Gongen. They'll understand as they get older."
"I'm not sure everyone does. I'm sure the Tenryu party would love to annoint you...Space Pope."
She just smiled back at him sadly till he continued.
"But as for all of that with the train...It's admirable what you're trying to do, Flavia, but everyone tries to do that when they start. You'll burn out of it quickly. If you're available all of the time, you will have nothing left to give in the times that truly matter. A moment of peace while travelling can be a blessing."
She held her head high, "Then I will enjoy it while I still can, until I burn out from it, Father Jonna."
He looked back at Hotaru, who could only shrug. She wasn't even Christian.
"Tell me about yourself, Hotaru. If we are to be together for a while, I'd like to be friends."
Well, that was unexpected, though maybe it shouldn't have been, "I'm in the service of the Sato family. I've protected both Sato brothers at one time or another, but currently serve at the bequest of Sato Shintaro, who has lent you my services."
Father Jonna raised an eyebrow at Flavia, "Well well, a bodyguard straight from the President's Son. Isn't that interesting."
She sighed, "He is obsessed with reminding me of my family's connections. This is why I hesitated to use them."
"I promise to do my best to live up to the expectations of your displeasure."
She laughed, "I appreciate that, but I trust in your skill..." she trailed off, frowning. At the front of the Basilica was a small crowd holding signs and chanting. One was dressed like the Holy Mother, only wearing grotesque and mocking makeup. She danced around in front of the group with her tongue out.
Hotaru begged all the way for her to not, as the Holy Mother walked up to the protestors.
She bowed, "Good evening. May the Lord God keep and bless you--"
"We don't need your lies, you Tenryu party puppet!"
"--may he take away your sins--"
"What'd you have to do for the President to get the job huh?"
"--and lead you to everlasting life--
"Or did you just cry to daddy?" Laughter.
"--Amen."
She stood and prayed quietly for a few more moments, crossed herself, and began to walk back towards the basilica again. Hotaru kept close behind her, because some of the protestors followed. She moved her hand close to her Katana, then pretended to just scratch an itch, and a few turned around. But the one in the make up didn't stop. She kept coming, hurling invectives at her. Flavia stepped inside the church, and as the door shut Hotaru hoped that would be it.
It wasn't. The fake slammed it open, continuing to yell. The church security moved to remove her, but Flavia stopped them.
She stood there, taking the hurled insults, until the woman tired, and Flavia bowed to her.
"Thank you for your passion for the faith. I hope in the future you will be more pleased with my service to the flock. May the lord bless you."
The women stared, the makeup looking ludacris with her shocked expression. She was unable to find words, so she turned around and pushed back through the doors.
"Well, I suppose that went about as well as we could have hoped," Flavia said.
Jonna was about to reply, when they heard the shot.
Hotaru knew it instantly: high powered plasma bolt, likely a heavily modified ColtBurton Tangier-2. She grabbed the Holy Mother's arm as she tried to bolt for the sound, "It's not safe, that was a sniper round. You're staying here."
Her eyes softened, okay good, she understood. Then the cry of pain came from outside.
"Let go of me now. If you want to keep me safe, then do that while we get her inside. That's an order, if that helps," she slipped out of her suddenly loose grip. Yes, ma'am.
Drawing her pistol, Hotaru ran in front of the injured woman, scanning the area as Flavia pulled her inside. Okay, going okay.
Then the second shot.
Never think it's going okay, you idiot.
It tore through Flavia's upper arm, but she finished pulling the injured woman inside with one final heave, and ripped her habit off to hold over the wound as she put pressure on it, ignoring her own bleeding. A third shot rang out, and the door proved to be stronger than it looked.
"Hotaru, what do we do now?"
"We need to move you out of here."
"I'm not leaving her!"
She cursed, and pointed at one of the useless security detail, "You, take over first aid for the Holy Mother, the rest of you fan out and start looking for where the assassin will try to enter."
Hotaru helped Flavia up, the security guard seemed more skilled at first aid anyway, but she was clearly in shock, looking at her red hands. Father Jonna looked stunned too. Hotaru quickly began to wrap the wound on Flavia's arm as much as she could.
"Is there a back entrance?"
"There's a lot of them, it's a huge complex."
That wasn't good. The whole mission had gone bottoms up too quickly.
"Choose one, we'll go out that way."
Jonna seemed to snap into gear, "...The garden. There's an exit we can take from there right into the parking garage."
Finally, some good news, "Perfect. Let's move, don't waste any more time."
* * *
He hadn't expected the decoy. Though in hindsight, maybe she wasn't a decoy. One of those protestors? Either way, it should have been a one-shot-one-kill job. He'd loused it up. So now he could either call it off and regroup, or try to catch them while they fled.
It'd been a while since he'd really gone hunting like that. Not since he'd been kicked out of the Yakuza. The thought excited him. Yes, this would do nicely.
* * *
The man looked lost, stumbling around by the broken window, jaw trembling, eyes wide. This whole thing was more than Li had signed up for as part of the security here at the Basilica, usually things were easy. Boring even. Good pay, low danger. Now he was trying to lead out shocked parishioner after shocked parishioner to where the city police were gathering them to question them and later hook them up with counselling.
"Sir, we're evacuating the building, could you please follow me."
He stumbled towards him, eyes watering, "So much blood, in a church! How could they?"
"It's terrible, I know, please just come with me."
"Please, just tell me, did the Holy Mother..."
"She's safe, she escaped through the garden, now come here."
He let the man get close, he'd put an arm around him and guide him out.
Or rather, he would have. If the man's face hadn't turned stone cold, his strong hands around Li's neck and head.
There was a snap.
And the assassin continued on his way.
* * *
Hotaru kept glancing back as Jonna led them, his arm supporting Flavira to keep her going forward. Her arm clearly was in agony, and she admired that she had kept moving at all, "Just keep going Flavia, we're almost there," he said.
Hotaru was glad to hear that, but also wasn't surprised when she saw the faint outline of a figure moving behind the trees. She followed the shape with her pistol, it was moving too silently and intentionally to be a friend. It was stalking prey.
So she let out a spray of fire.
It burned through the trunks of trees, and the branches of bushes, and there was a soft, "ungh," not a moan or cry of agony, but the soft reaction of someone too familiar with the sensation. She steadied herself, "Get cover, now!"
It was almost too late, but also just in time. Flavia and Jonna dove behind a big planter, but a blast caught her in the calf, and she cried out again.
Hotaru tried to get in the way of the blasts, and probably saved Jonna's life as one hit her shoulder plate.
Come on, you coward come out. Her pistol was out, ready, and then half of it dropped off.
She looked to her right, and there he was, his torso, arms, and face layered in tattoos. She was thankful.
She had never been as good with a gun as she had in a melee. The gun was her first obstacle: it was taking up her hand, after all, so she threw it as hard as she could at the man's face. The other hand went back for her own blade, and drew it out, all of her body moving in one fluid motion. The man seamlessly ducked to the right, dodging the gun.
Good. She pulled her sword down at a diagonal, forcing him to choose between going hard into the direction he'd leaned into and losing his balance, or moving his blade up to parry her from below, turning his torso to the right in the process.
He chose to parry, and her foot came up lighting quick, catching him in the spine as he stopped her blade.
He wasn't out yet though, he threw himself sideways, slamming into her. She stumbled back, staying standing but losing her advantageous position. He came back in with a flurry of swipes, and she parried them, looking for an opening. He was fast--he'd wear her down quick if he kept this up. Then she heard it. A faint hiss above her head.
She had her move. She backed up into a flower garden, trampling backwards through it to the other side, and he followed, matching her steps. She stopped. He raised an eyebrow.
The automatic misters turned on.
It was half a second. All he did was glance up, but it was too long. She raked her katana across his chest, and it was over. She panted, looking down at him, as he looked up at her. He tried to say something through the blood in his mouth, but it was incomprehensible.
And then, she arrived.
She wasn't so much crawling as dragging herself with one arm, the Holy Mother pulling herself into the flowerbed, and kneeling next to the dying assassin. She stroked his head, and asked if he would like her to pray for him. He gave a small nod. And she did, till he faded away.
Then she looked up at Hotaru, tears in her eyes, a sad smile across her face, and promptly passed out from blood loss.
Part 3: Easter and the Estimation
"Now go in peace to love and serve the lord!"
The Holy Mother waved at the camera like she was on a normal video call, and Jonna breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, doing an Easter Mass over video from her hospital room was unusual, but under the circumstances it seemed to be exactly what she and the people of Gon--Mars, needed.
He made his way over after the camera crew and her nurses got out of the way, and gave her a smile, which she returned.
"Well, not the way I wanted my first Easter sermon to go, but I think I did alright, considering I could only move one arm."
He looked at the liquid-filled casts around her arm and leg, "What's the prognosis?"
"Hmn? Oh, I'll be fine, it'll just take some time. You can't stop the Holy Mother that easily," she winked.
Hotaru sighed from her bedside, "You are too optimistic about this. You're worse than Shintaro."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
She shook her head, and Jonna used the opportunity to cut in.
"Any update on who sent the assassin?"
Hotaru looked up at him.
* * *
Shintaro and Hotaru looked down at the report. They stared at what it said for a long time till Shin lowered the tablet.
Their eyes met.
Hotaru nodded.
He handed her the memory card the report was on.
And she stomped it to pieces on the tiled floor.
* * *
"It's still a mystery, I'm afraid."
He sighed, of course it was.
The Holy Mother just shrugged, "I'm sure whoever it was is in need of love. I just wish..."
There was a knock on the door, it was a member of the much-increased security detail, "Holy mother, there's someone here to visit you?"
Jonna dismissed it with a wave of his hand, "Everyone wants to visit her. She needs rest."
"...She says the Holy Mother saved her life during the incident."
Flavia closed her eyes, "With the Lord, all things are possible, even wishes."
* * *
Two Months Earlier
Filling Amorkuza’s shoes was proving to be much more difficult than anyone had anticipated. Everyone had assumed the Tenryu Party would come into the event ready to ramrod through Cardinal Mishima, but as it turned out a lot of party members just didn’t like the man. The voting was rigged here, of course, the Tenryu Party had far more representation than the Church did, but they still had anticipated voting in a unified bloc.
That was when she came in.
The double doors swung open, and there she was, security scampering after her as the throng of children she’d brought with her blocked their path. Her light blue dress flowed behind her, as she clutched both hands over her heart.
“Brothers and sisters, you have found yourself stuck.”
“Get her out of here!” some party official yelled, and then she looked at him firmly, and he pursed his lips.
She kept walking forward, till she reached the front of the room, “You have no good answer on who will lead the Church on Gongen, and you’re frustrated. Well I tell you, God gave you that frustration, and he has given me a vision: a vision of a new future for the Gongen Church. She turned to face the room, “So I would ask you to pray. Ask God, and yourselves, who do you want to lead you into the future? Someone who has divided you, or the one God chose for you: Houng Lifen”
There was the sound of fingers tapping on tablet screens, and eyes squinting.
“Ah, sorry yes, I’m on the sixth page of the ballot. Near the bottom.”
* * *
One Month After Easter, The Vatican, Earth.
The panel of cardinals looked at Father Jonna seriously, "Well, Father, we have waited anxiously for your opinion on the new government-appointed mockery. What is your estimation of her?
He looked down at his hands, and the corner of his lip turned up.
"Honestly? I like her."
A publication of Arcbealte Press.
Art by Callum Brown
Story by James Wylder
Copyright 2020, Arcbeatle Press and Decipher, Inc.
WARS is the property of Decipher, Inc.
Arcbeatle Press is located in beautiful Elkhart, Indiana
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