Modern Day Psyche

It was another day in paradise for Zeirenne Lynn. Lounged at the balcony of a mountain cabin, the golden halo rising at the horizon basked her face with a golden light. Thousands of feet above ground, surrounded by mountain ranges, there weren't much to do but admire the expanse of the ocean. Its picturesque landscape stretched far beyond what civilization has to offer—provoking thoughts from great minds.

What to eat for breakfast? Zeirenne wondered.

A list cascaded in her mind; but she was bone deep in comfort. Cradled in the arms of her blanket and rustic beanbag, with a soothing cup of tea in her hands, and the cool autumn wind blowing her hair like curtains, she decided. I'll just skip breakfast.

Her eyes closed for a while, and when they opened, the sun was already setting.

Finally setting down the cup of tea she cradled in her sleep, Zeirenne pulled away from the cozy pit. Her famished insides urged her to move, singing funny noises in contempt.

Dragging her slender, overslept legs, she wobbled into the kitchen to grab a basket. The cupboards were no place to hustle for food. Zeirenne made it a habit to keep them empty in case some unforeseen events occured. She pushed through the creaky backdoor and stepped out to the backyard.

There, within an acre of land, stretched a cornucopia of fresh ingredients. Bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, various plots of land brimmed with vegetables and fruit-bearing trees. Mounds of soil lay scattered—remnants of the plowing she had left unfinished. Her schedule for today alloted a few hours for tilling and gardening, coupled with some foraging and frolicking by the river. But thanks to her sleepyass, every bullet on that memo was fired off.

From the distance, a greenhouse shimmered its golden glow. It was too far to walk for a lazy sleepyhead, about a hundred stones down the cobblestone path, so, Zeirenne settled for the nearer rations.

She grabbed some unripe tomatoes, harvested some beet, lettuce and spinach from neighboring plots, and tosed everything inside her basket. By the time she'd considered her ingredients enough for some salad, only a faint sunlight loomed from the distance. She went back to the kitchen to wrap up her dinner.

Sat by the fireplace while she ate, Zeirenne's back merged with the backrest of the couch by the window. She only had to tilt her head and riffle through the canopy of a century-old banyan tree to glimpse at the stars above.

Dinner was solemn. The crunchy sound of Zeirenne's every bite chorused with the crackles of fire and the rackety crickets outside, sounding like lullabies in her ears.

Crackle.

Kru.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Crackle

Kru.

Crunch… Crunch…

Zeirenne jostled herself awake. She was getting drowsy again despite having just woken up from a long nap. There was nothing, no one to keep her awake. Even the table in front of the couch seemed to mock her solitude. It had friends circled around it—four comfortable-looking chairs. All with natural wood finish, and a subtle sheen that suggested they were mere decorations, very unused.

It'd been months since she'd last dined with someone, and these chairs were too inviting for their own good. Too inviting, how could Zeirenne have guessed they would conjure an actual guest?

A knock, sounding too urgent it went as raps, jostled Zeirenne out of her couch, she almost hoisted the salad bowl into the air. Who would possibly grace her a visit at the very peak of an isolated mountain, thousands of miles away from the nearest civilization? Ghosts were the most likely answer.

Zeirenne hurried to the door, even a vengeful ghost shouldn't be made to wait for long. Stepping out to greet her visitor, a gaunt-faced creature grabbed at her ankles, its trembling body sprawled at her front porch. The scene was pulled straight out of a post-apocalyptic movie.

But the enigmatic person she was, Zeirenne maintained a still face. Her thoughts wandered far.

Maybe the zombie apocalypse in movies have come into fruition, even delivering its spawn to her steps. Yep, she was going crazy. Her guest was obviously a man who had suffered from hunger and thirst. This guest must have travelled for days just to get here—and also had to climb for half a day just to get to the top.

Zeirenne bent over, extending a finger to poke at the shriveled face. It lossened its grip on her ankles and reached out to her, mumbling unintelligible noises.

"Wa…wa…" it mumbled with a groggy voice.

"What?" Zeirenne docked her head closer, unguardingly exposing her fair, smooth as jade, neck, even a rational person would want to bite, moreso a bloodthirsty vermin.

"Wa… warghzer."

Warzher?

"Do you mean water?"

The uninvited guest made affirmative noises, so Zeirenne hurried to the kitchen and poured some spring water into a bamboo cup. She hurried back, even nursing it into taking its fluids.

***

"Miss Lynn…" said her visitor, now seated on the friendly chairs, sharing some of her homedried tea. It didn't take long for Zeirenne to recognize him from work.

Six months ago, James Liu was a mere intern at the Institute of Animal Conservatory. It was around the time Zeirenne left for a special mission. As its name suggests, the Institute of Animal Conservatory, or IAC, oversees the conservation of animal species around the world.

A year ago, a team of IAC explorers discovered a mountanous island, far into the pacific. They discovered species believed to be extinct, prosperous and thriving in this sanctuary. To take animals out of their habitat for breeding purposes would be counterproductive. The IAC needed a team of scientist for this mission. All thorough, good at their job, and most importantly, scientists who would be willing to live on such primitive conditions—sequestered at a mountain, thousands of miles away from the rest of the world.

When the IAC chairman called for a meeting, numerous interns and employees quivered inside the hall, fearing the highups would push this task upon them.

They loved their jobs, alright? But being separated from the rest of the world, away from their families, with no form of entertainment, not even phones, for who knows how long!? It was a suicide mission.

But blessed are the faint-hearted—the heavens refused to have these scientists as their toughest soldiers, so they sent an angel to rid everyone of their worries.

From the quagmire of sweaty palms and pounding hearts, emerged a saviour—a beautiful face of salvation.

"I volunteer!" A clear, resounding voice pierced through the hall. Zeirenne sauntered out of her seat, attracting dumbstruck gazes to herself. No one expected a volunteer from the board of directors. At least, not their youngest, prettiest, and most-accomplished director.

Zeirenne's eyes sparkled like Andromeda's stars that day, dazzling the audience and revealing her passion. But months later, it was the hesitant new recruit, James Liu, who had to tell her, "The institute is reassigning you, M-Miss Lynn."

James' breathing hitched at his throat. Met with the goddess' icy derision, his eyes quivered, desperate for an escape. But those leering eyes belonged to a beauty, two enchanting brown eyes penetrating his soul. James felt simultaneously cold and warm. Body submerged at a frozen pond, face burnt by the scorching sun.

Neither the murderous glares, nor the stoic expression could dampen Zeirenne's beauty. From the shape of her eyes to her tightly closed lips, her features carried an air of aloof elegance. She looked not much like a person who volunteered for isolation but a celestial being roaming on earth—a mountain goddess who magnanimously graced an upstart employee with her presence.

James swallowed the lump in his throat, relying on the dim candlelight to conceal his reddened face. "The team and I are here to relieve your post for the time being."

Only moving her eyes, Zeirenne took a sip of tea and glared at the door. "Team? Where are the others?"

"I… ah…" James subconsciously scratched his head.

"You lost a bet so you had to go first," Zeirenne declared, sounding too sure as if she weren't merely guessing.

"Y-yes."

She tapped at the table. "May I see the missive?"

James pulled an envelope from the satchel he forsakenly carried up the mountain, and slid it across the table. Eyes slowly widening, he watched Zeirenne toss the missive into the fireplace. "Ah!"

"I'll hear what the chairman has to say for himself," she remained stoic, a stark contrast to her ghastly companion's expression. "Gather your team and regroup before midnight. I'll brief you on everything you have to know about this island."

"R-Right now?"

Zeirenne responded with an empty stare and pointed at the clock hung at the fireplace, condemning her subordinate to make haste. He had six hours to climb down the mountain and climb back up with his team.

Was this petty revenge?

Maybe.

Did it feel like punishment for her subordinates?

Absolutely. She wasn't an angel, afterall.