Part - 6

CHAPTER 45 - VELES AND ORCHIDIA EVERGLOW

Current Time

With the language of the telegram, there was little wiggle room for refusal. In similar fashion the corridors granted only meager indulgence to one's personal space. Anderson had sent a rather staunch memo, "Miss, this is by no means an effort to bring you by force. However, you should know that the university's interest relies on your participation. In this case, there is one interest that applies to you alone". "What on Earth is he talking about? I'm not even on the budget committee for the university. I barely visit once a year" Veles grumbled. She didn't know what all the fuss was about. The corridors continued. They were much busier than she remembered, so walking through them required frequent stops. Buzzing students huddled at just the places where an ordinary path ought to go, forcing the patron to curve around nodes of them. Headmaster's office transpired up ahead. The entrance was dwarfed in visual weight by the statue of an atom beside it, and a fern on the other, it's droopy foliage touching down to the welcome mat below. A mahogany door stands between her and the remainder of the day, however extraneous. Anderson was seated behind his desk, attending to a matter with two students, a boy and a girl. " … enough to add another three days to detention, unless you have a better excuse " the headmaster quibbled in businesslike tone. Veles sort of stood still as it seemed like the appropriate thing to do. "Oh, there you are. If you can, pull the chair over there so we can start" he urged, indicating the third piece leaning against the wall where the other instruments of persuasion where mounted. "I'd much rather stand. In fact, headmaster, I do have a substantially full schedule today, so If you could make it brief …" she floundered arrogantly. "Certainly mam. As a matter of fact, this all came about because of an article. This edition is a few weeks old – the university newspaper you see - but I hadn't finished reading it until this morning due to my negligence. It was simply stacked here on the edge of my desk" Anderson noted, fetched a pair of reading glasses and unfolded the paper with flourish. Veles sought to redress the worn atmosphere with a hearty sigh. "You must love gossip more than anything". "Don't be so callous patron. This did pique my interest a bit" he promised, flattening the page against the table as he leaned in. Joining the divide, the students clasped hands as if it was their last minutes of life. The patron forcefully tried to inject her mind with other concerns, dandy enough to leave impressions of the outside world. "For your consideration, the front-page article on the fifteenth edition has been retracted. Editors have concluded an investigation, finding the article to be unsupportable. We have reined in our own emotion on the matter. Please continue to enjoy next week's prudent edition, and as always, favored readers, it's a treat to be discreet" he read, indicating each word with mechanical emphasis. "Wow sir, bringing me here to read a chapter of the dictionary. This has outdone even these two" Veles commented, branding the moment with sporty ridicule. Progressions of the clock on the wall, misplaced in the present, made her sentiment discontinuous, with little snaps of a thin metal hand, so that it could not reach it's intended threshold. "Not quite. Here is the fifteenth edition, the original copy procured from the club's department and stored in my desk. Take a look at the portrait" he offered, tossing it across the table. Deigning to play along, she plucked the weary thing off the surface, glancing at the cover until the sum of it came into focus. "Flan Ship Destroys University!!!" sprawled across the header, flashing three bold exclamation points. Veles skimmed the text, rekindling with fierce detail the events of the lemon slug attack on the SOTA and their aftermath. Surely there had been aerial bombardments from the flan ships, strafing portion cities with energy beams. But the conversion of the university building into rubble, its ample pre-modern architecture draped across the manicured grounds as the portrait so clearly indicated, was ineffable. As she read the words, she recalled walking towards the library, brushing off with ease the sumptuous display of nature embedded into the multiplicity of academic life. At the back it was fastened to the main administrative building. "Everything is trashed. But we're standing in it. Does this mean we are …?" the patron reckoned, scrambling for description of the anomaly. Held in her hands, it was more than tangible. "Headed forward in the wrong history. Obviously so, according to my conclusion. Be that as it may, the culprits are seated and will have to answer for themselves" the headmaster acknowledged, righting his posture to that amenable to both listening and silence. First the girl stood up, exploring his stoic countenance with a hard glare. Veles saw how it weighed against his immobility. But then, to the patron's surprise, the student turned right around, facing her. "Asking for my help won't get you out of trouble, young lady" she averred, censoring the request. Instead, the youth procured a case of makeup, and took a lemon slice from the inside. Anderson looked on, budging only imperceptibly. Aware of what to do, the girl squeezed the juice onto one palm, letting it settle. Veles didn't know what to say. The mask of a human envelope faded from the hand to the wrist, then up the arm. It all happened in a jiffy, yellow flesh taking the place, melting the paint of the other. Plain resemblance glowed from her eyes. "I didn't want it to be like this, believe me. Yes, you look exactly like me because we are clones. Some of your magic was released during the fight between the patron Idea and the lemon slugs. When he encountered the Father, they fought as well, and we were born from lemon seeds. My name is Vemon Leles, and he is a clone of Connect, Cemon Leles. We found a way here to escape the fighting, and the university took us in after the revision" the pretty yellow Veles propounded spokesman like, raising a brow to elicit the purest form of leniency. He too took a few drops of the slice onto his hand, wiping the veil off. Snail Man's expression hung there, ostensibly shipped through time and space. Automatically she clasped the girl in a warm embrace, followed by the boy, then looked over the length of the desk. "Anderson, did the Couple know of this?" she enquired, gating the tide of emotion. He coughed once and nodded in the affirmative, "Mam, they entrusted me with their safety in the original timeline". The patron returned the look as if to say, "Oh brother". Anderson smirked, the burden departing from his shoulders. "Headmaster, what are you going to do with the newspaper with the revision. Are you going to keep the fabrication?" Veles urged hopefully. "This is all up to you, and I will defer the result. Do you think these students should be disciplined for spreading nonsense, and not reporting the truth? Rather than a simple week of detention, do you have something else to offer?" he asked callously. Veles felt unease as the spotlight captured her, laying its heat onto her judgement. Palpable dread filled the students. They seemed to be stuffed with it, like scarecrows. A bead of sweat rambled down the side of one temple, then clung to a thread of hair, dropping down expertly to the tip in hurried escape from burning thoughts. Looking down to her feet she assessed the choice at hand. The patron felt envious of Anderson, with all his sound, unadorned conviction. Veles divided the question by a line of symmetry. Focused on her left foot, she heard their cheer, and sighs of relief. Chasing each other through the hallways, back to the ordinary world of the alteration. But later on, there would be days that chip away at their personas, rendering them less, making what is distinct fall into disrepair. Each day becoming passages through trenches, more like them. Then the other foot, the right one. Focusing on it made her wince, as the motion of time receded in abstraction. Feathered remains of the school lay across the campus, bothersome rawness. Below it, the green's color attenuated. The patron could almost inhale the dust through the barrier of her mind, a second only, as the expeditious flash died away. Which was better … heavier? Glancing back to Anderson, the line of symmetry broke, even though it was just a fancy, "do you think these students should be disciplined for not telling the truth?". "Wait! that would bring back history!" Cemon interjected. "Don't equivocate young man … this is" he parried involuntarily, the force of tone growing in high disparity to the youngster's effort, well intentioned as it was. "Enough, Anderson. I agree with you, of course. Do what you have to" Veles yielded, shielding the two of them from lavish anger. Following up on her word, he took the revised edition of the newspaper and fed it to the paper shredder. Anderson swiveled back to face them in his chair, then languidly stood. Directly ahead, pristine towers loomed over a sparse row of trees ringing the outline of the turf.

At their feet, the impact crater of the barrage rested. They restrained themselves, heeding the comical, razor-sharp difference. Loitering nearby, a group of vacuum cleaners appeared to be more involved in exchanging metal tubular components amongst each other than actually cleaning up the mess. "Everything's back to normal. Aren't you supposed to be watching out for us? This is dumbest thing you've ever done!" Leles rebelled. Veles too was fazed by the unforgiving educational caper. She ceded a harmless cough as her lungs breathed in the actual dust. "Bear with me for the time being" he prayed, meeting their eyes with reciprocal sadness. The patron tried to grasp onto the image of the office, a subtle copy in her thoughts. It twisted from hold. "Follow me, there is something I need for you to take a look at" the headmaster pressed. Down by the holo-pier a guy was selling bowling balls filled with salad dressing, but only if you could score a perfect strike. Since they were glass it was easier to gauge what type they contained. They crossed a café where people were eating salad while putting the dressing to good use. Imperceptibly it became quieter, more lonesome. People rarely appeared down the sidewalk, except those that would disregard them as they crept by, continuing their hunt through bleak channels. Leles stopped a second to look at a bookcase laying atop refrigerator, the former sinking into the latter, creating one rectangular shape. Down an alley by a dumpster there was some sort of four-legged animal whose underside was covering with dangling microphones. But really, the only meddling the academics confronted was from a gang of adolescents, delaying their games to slander them as they passed. Plotting in broad daylight, those kids had collected enough, ostensibly to afford a good unfixed box, one of the provision boxes for storing a hash of ugly, bothersome spells. Veles shooed them away with a ghostly vortex. Further on, a few lampshades rolled along the ground as if tumbleweeds. Some of them were more elaborate, having shaped the fabric and framework to modulate the wind. "Please let this turn out to be nothing" the patron wished cautiously, following beside the well-featured lecturer. If publicized, the fabrication would effortlessly worm its way through the public consciousness, begging for a fiasco of more such instances. She noticed how the sidewalk gave way to planks of soft brick. Benignly the holo-pier reached forward towards a wash of dull ocean. In that patch, the surroundings almost felt deprived of the veneer of deep spaces and their cryptic organization. Just a tad uncouth at first glance. "Here it is friends. Keep going down the pier until we cross the concealment barrier" the headmaster informed them, as if asking his acquaintances to walk the plank was the normal course of events. "Let me guess, you built a backup university?" Veles earnestly forecast as they neared the midway line. Her every step lay in accord to the tune of boards creaking under their toes. Leles chittered in complicity with her graveness. "How did I inspire such confidence, patron? No matter. Take a look at this warehouse" Anderson pointed, reorienting their hopes towards the bland rectangle. Liberating the door, the four tourists touched in unison onto the welcome mat, a spell-switch forcing the recess to brighten. Veles took note of the dominant form greeting them, its contours clarifying as the darkness was superseded. "After the incursion the flan ship tried to escape the atmosphere, but was captured by one of our mausoleums. It was relocated here after study. I'm the only one without rank to have clearance" he rehearsed. Like a captive audience, the patron and the students engrossed themselves with the pliant hull, its cream hued durations … nebulously yellow. At the front, a disk coated in what looked like resin seemed treacherous, lying in wait for someone to help it become a carnivore. Anderson manhandled a mechanical switch of one of the devices with wires stretching across the floor, probing the underbelly of the ship. It made the hull more porous, giving them access. Once inside, he showed them a recording of a feed, "Valco's team was fast to disregard the find after the attack concluded. I have had more time to be meticulous". Brushed aside, a cloth of static gave way to Father Lemon Slug, who seemed anxious, "We will need the whole crew to form a landing party to locate the room. It will be beneath the university, once that is …". Injury to the recording resulted in the image being cut short. Headmaster turned about unconsciously to ensure no one besides them had heard. "Don't even think about it, we're going back to the portion …" Cemon bickered as he read the tacit agreement on the faces of his elders. He tried, lunging verbally into an argument that had already been won. From the armory they salvaged flan rifles for each of them, continuing on through the rundown quarter back to the tarnished basin. Wielding a spell to clear a way through the odds and ends, the patron brought them to an awkward, slanting entrance. "Keep behind us students, and if things get bad, give us cover" she said, glancing down to Leles in particular. Tenaciously they aimed the brown disk of their firearms upwards, then discharged, letting fly twin bolts of thick, gummy auburn tinted light. Since the first chain of rooms appeared empty, a watered-down version of nothing, they delving further into the structure by use of a circular ramp. More sanitized areas had doorways to damp subterranean chambers, yet they finished shortly in cul-de-sacs, leading them back to the network. "Check out how clean these areas are patron. There must have been a turncoat performing experiments down here with the university's resources" he estimated. The room ahead grew larger than the one previous, although it had part of its right exposed to the cavern's browsing roots. "They must have been in a hurry. Look at this MRI machine in the corner" Veles spotted. Those pre-realm devices had never become obsolete, only scaled up with more spell-technology. However, whoever had the gall to do so much tinkering also must have left this one behind, or so they thought. "Eeeehhhh" sounded, a tangible moan from the bed of the MRI, coarse and pathetic. Flat on its back, a bandaged mummy slowly jerked its arms. The device scanned the patient once more, cavalier to the noise of protest. Veles held out her arm to obstruct the others as the bed retracted. "Too easy pal" she shouted as the ugliness hobbled towards them. Taking aim with the flan rifle, it was downed with one shot. "Do you think that could have been a student?" Leles gasped as the medical distortion fell back against the side. Fearlessly Veles tore the garments from his face. "It isn't one anymore" Anderson observed, wincing at the reanimated face. A simple thing gave them license to lean nearer. It was ...clean ... without smell, its body injected with artificial odorants. "He couldn't have been less than forty when bandaged. This is no student, headmaster" Veles confirmed. Letting go of the dressings, the patron made way to another room, that became an elevator to bring them lower in the network. Here the rooms were furnished with more MRI machines whose occupants mindlessly rallied towards the intruders. Anderson and the students had ample work covering her flanks as they pressed forward. Lowering into the floor, the beds of the machines retrieved replacements who must have been stacked up in storage units below. Answering the frenzy, more roots broke through the walls of the sanitized room, blossoming with plump lemons. By that time just one of the oddities remained. Veles raised an eyebrow when he stopped short in the direct path towards her. Easily the bandages unraveled, lengthy enough to not undress the figure, but coiled around in the air, until the ends of them became yellow, then lemon peel, fashioning whole fruit. Down the length of the strips the coloring continued, transforming the body of the mummy into peel, all except one evil eye that stared out towards them. "Hopscotch! What is going on!" Leles cried, defensively firing a bolt through its chest. "Anderson, this is the best parent teacher conference ever!" Veles exclaimed. Adrenaline began to pick up in her veins. Pursuing the bonny scent of citrus, a door appeared with a plaque reading "Please do not disturb". The patron tiptoed over to the brass knob, "It doesn't seem locked", she noticed, looking back for peer approval. With three nods, she twisted it, and the four passed into a place more generous than the other subterranean cul-de-sacs, with natural features honed to aesthetic softness. "This is the least cavey cave I've ever seen" Anderson, with childlike keen-ness gathered. By the layout it was plain that the place was set with a style more akin to a refuge. A place common to those who need to be alone to think. To their easy surveillance, it was less like the rest of the labs in arid uniformity, packed with florescent numbness to make the subjects, their scandalous alterations more agreeable. "Whoever was in here didn't leave anything behind. I don't see any clues" Cemon added as he glanced over the quality grain of the cavern walls. Occasionally arching from the face of the stone, even the roots had a nice fluency of form. The team bunched close. Veles felt a tap on her shoulder, from the young lady, "I see a clue". How did she not see the MRI sitting right ahead of them? It looked lonely by itself, she considered. A clear snapping sound came as the scanner ring unlatched itself from the holder, drifting to the center of the room. Plates of metal separated off and clattered onto the chiseled floor. "Woah!" Veles croaked, her beating heart happy as a frog. Freed from the disguise, the object grew five times in size. "It hurts my eyes" Leles said, turning away to rub them. Stillness overtook the patron's mind. Up till then, she did not reflect on the divide between them in hierarchy, as when in mixed society. Not consciously at least. Yet she knew that only she could feel the subtle shadow of a field encompassing them, a phenomenological one. "Astounding" Anderson whispered. Across the surface of the ring different shades of paint flowed. The patron silently watched the glitches of time as the cycle renewed, the others protesting for the paint to "keep still". The medium glided along, a frisky river, with one luminous tone overlapping the other. Looping round, the force prevented any division of the whole to coagulate, as it would under ordinary circumstances. "Headmaster, what do you think we should call this?" Veles asked with good courtesy. He adjusted his glasses back onto the arch of his nose, then regarded again the ring. He began, then … immobilizing their conversation, a person was expelled from the lower bend. Thick paint drained off the woman's shoulders as she raised up off the ground. At first it was hard to classify her body from long blonde hair. To the others the difference was negligible.

Veles took a step back as the form, tall, like her elder sister came to face her, "It is called the paint-cycle". By their feet, in the cusp of a metal plate that fell from the scanner, orchids grew in a dollop of paint. Engaging magic, the greasy medium dissolved, leaving simple muted attire in lilac. "I know you! the day Linden … " Veles stuttered. "Is this the savage thing that came from Echo? students, get behind us" he warned. The outsider drew near to the patron, taking up the whole field of vision blamelessly. Although her movements were eager, the expression was composed, placid, "Veles, do you remember my face? You should". "I see now ... you are a replica of that woman. Why are you here? If you are a defector, I will have to take you into fiefdom custody" the patron resolved as anonymous feelings reached their way from the very center of her thought. Direct, untraceable lines of force. "People always want the truth. If you want me to confess, I will" Orchidia Everglow offered with a knowing smile. "We will be ready for the Metacoma, our brothers and sisters, even if you send them to destroy us, even tomorrow. Is that a gate to them?" she questioned, staring bitterly towards the familiar face with vortexes evolving from her irises. "No doubt. It is more than a doorway. The paint cycle is my home realm. A curious place, where time moves forward but events recur in a single sequence. Besides that, the country of Everglow was typical in its youth, enjoying medieval technology and the sweat and toil of good magic. In temples the monks gave joy to the icons of a goddess. She lived atop a mountain throne. The stone was separate from the land, high in the clouds. I was happy, watching over them, my every glance replenishing the farmer's fields with orchids for the harvest. I was their guardian". "The world is crowded with realms. Did you think that just because you ruled in there, it gave you the right to do what you did? We know you designed the war for your own purpose" Veles gibed, standing fast. By the circular logic of the paint-cycle, lone plates of metal scattered on the ground where swept up in time, some of them appearing as disparate parts of the shell. At that moment the patron breathed away the trance of the wheel, but for just a second, enough to know why the tides of time and space, their motions were so hospitable. "Briefly you will sense how we know each other as the seal I placed on your memory wanes. I can feel it weakening" Orchidia admitted, as if it was in the other's nature to forgive such tampering. "Keep talking. I didn't say you could stop. Tell me how you planned this and how we can halt the rest. After we finish, I'm bringing you back" the patron countered, whitewashing any threat from the other. Reaching into her mind Veles located the seal, its frail inscription loosening as the pressure of the tides asserted themselves. "Everything was simple. Then, one morning as I woke up the world around me washed past. I fell through the canvas and onto the ground of the temple. For a time, the monks harbored me, and were kind. A girl of paint that spilled from the icon. Despite having the same appearance, they treated me as an equal. Some of them cleaned up when I dripped, when I passed through the rooms filled with candles. Although, in my heart I knew what I had to do, so late one night I departed from them. Years passed by, and I quietly gathered strength. I did dark things to solidify my existence. I knew I had to face her. When arrangements were made, I spread a rumor across Everglow that I was the true goddess. Battles helped me claim the temples. My gathering was ceaseless. They did what was needed, distracting them until I had enough resolve to climb her mountain. 'I am not an image' I whispered as I forged higher to the summit. There, Orchidia rose from her throne and faced me. She was tireless, but I was quick enough with one slash to down the guardian. Let me tell you patron, life can be funny sometimes. Like when I looked down at my feet and saw not blood but paint swell out across the platform. In her dying breathe she told me of the endless cycle, the paint-cycle, of one guardian watching over the land, until an image escaped from an icon, a woman of paint, waging rebellion. She too had been a rebel. 'It is yours now' she told me. 'Wait for another?' I thought as her eyes closed. A strange idea sparked in me. What if the cycle was all there was? Then what is freedom, really? In my right arm I held the sword. Then, with a single strike I cracked the throne into pieces. Flames of the horizon became bright … bright as paint, and I understood. Orchidia Everglow was one person, contained by the paint-cycle, a singular stretched into many. Just as you saw me escape, I did so from my realm. Later I discovered I was the first human strain composed by the celestial trees. With the first attempt, I had not reached the genetic potential to perform the phenomenon. Those trees retrieved the energy, reducing it to the size of this artifact. They were so persistent, creating one generation after another. Trial and error. All I had to do, was follow the path of their experiments" the woman recounted as threads of blonde intervened aesthetically the picture of her face. "Doesn't impress me. I've heard a lot of stories like that, and we all come from somewhere" Veles settled, aiming to dash her hopes of carrying them to dark abstraction. In the way her words ignored them, the listener could feel the depth of eons. Tatters of magic in the patron's thoughts deteriorated as the seal thinned its essence. Slowly, the harrowing composure of her face grew precise, giving way to detail. It was more, the patron thought, like that of an acquaintance. "It led me to a party," the woman added, "indeed, a party hiding in a cloud. The highland cloud. Yes, Veles, I can see by your expression that you know the glass manor, the Couple's place. You must have spent a thousand rousing parties there. I found myself there as well, sheltering in the folds of cloud. By my nature I would do so to catch the darts of gossip. For countless years I hid in plain sight, numb to the touch of language, devouring only information. By the time I watched a few late arrivals meander through the fog, and enter through the front door, there came a strange sensation. I wanted to follow in their footsteps. Of course, that is only natural. To find a place, behind walls of glass, where we can belong. Fierce burdens of desire welled in my chest. Giving in to them, I circulated about the manor, to the opposite side. My curiosity could not be abated, even by the ruffles of that extravagant veil, milk with the grease of colors sown from windows.I felt reckless. At the eastern flank the material of the building was dark, save for a single wide balcony and it's viewing screen. Peering through ... Priya was there, as Echo. Like a waterfall, the truth came hurtling down from the bliss of outer space. Although I had never seen her before, I knew. Funny that I had found the scientists and their dream … hid inside ... then came to find within a girl whose smile was like that of the paint-cycle. My talent always was being able to tell the difference. She was crying, then wiped her tears with the length of her left arm. Gaining courage, I moved closer to see. She flashed a little smile as an idea popped into her head. Using dexterous magic, she made palpable a form. It was … symmetrical. Another Echo. Immune to the gaze of the balcony, through which any curious galaxy can spy their deeds, they embraced as lovers do. From my remoteness I could discern them sharing lip gloss prepared with mirror light, smearing it against their mouths. Shaded by dumb wordless clouds, I could not be seen. But I looked back through the narrow spaces of my swift white curtain, unable to move. Like being stiff during a lecture as the teacher's language wades into you, absorbed" Orchidia went, fetching more words to depict the one experience Veles could never forget. "Please stop! This is not how I want to remember my birth. I know the truth already" the patron begged. Realizing too late, the daughter felt she was outweighed by the momentum of the remembrance, and lifted up her arms to shield her face for a passing instant. "Don't fight this patron. The walls of painted memory are all around us now. Our ordinary world is hushed. Even you can discern the atoms of my thought vibrate through the texture of history. Then you should know what I saw next. Echo drinking from a chalice of rainwater, from both angles. I flinched as another couple entered the room by accident, disrupting her errand. Being caught off-guard, she de-manifested the avatar, and spit the remainder of the liquid out through the window" the woman imparted, sustained in the path of brave eloquence. "Yes, of course. The rainwater formed the vortex, the well of souls. After I surfaced, I climbed onto the balcony where they found me. Every detail is …". "Obvious?" the taller one stressed with clenched teeth, "Because you were drowning in that whirlpool". Hanging by threads of neural bioluminescence, the seal's fabric shivered apart. They danced through the unlit nothing of a chamber, carrying the wave of that fracture through all the bordering areas. Like bleeding music. Veles felt it as she stared at the other's face, breaking tone from harsh control, "What do you mean? I sensed the manor's light, and swam. After getting out I went to the balcony". Orchidia Everglow smiled. Through the dialogue's link, walls of paint reenacted the water's turbulence, the balcony, the opaqueness of glass laboring to overcome the manor's glow. Some shape of knowledge soared through time back into the frame of her body. Like opening your eyes in the morning, she thought. The pace of the rendering stilled. "I dived in to save you" Everglow claimed. "That's a joke!" Veles quarreled, striking against the momentum. Everglow lifted her hand, focused. Moving forward the patron waited, her skin dead to the touch of the woman's palm against her cheek, "No, that's why I came back". Health answered, burning away a mask that covered what had been whispered into forgetfulness. Dripping wet, the patron stood at the shore of the whirlpool. At first there were only blurs. Guiding younger eyes, she could see Everglow, who looked back, breathing hard. A peaceful stare gave way to worry, concern. Veles hug the person that came to her aid, holding tightly a fleece of gold, until the atmosphere of the highland abated, drying a share of the moisture still clinging to her from the vortex. "Of course, you were there. I thank you … greatly … but even if you crossed paths with us once, in the long run … it doesn't mean anything! Look at what has really happened" the patron answered, fighting to brush away the corruption. Ripples sped through blonde threads as they tasted the heated words. "Veles, look. For so long, I searched for a way to escape this realm. Then I saw the doorway, standing on the balcony. Echo … her plight was so ... normal. All she had to do was go back to the party. A pensive wallflower. But then, she did something indescribable. I couldn't fathom. Was it just optimism and clever magic? As though there was a different way. It was so conspicuous. Veles, my vision is good. I could see you going down. If you think it is just a well of souls, then you are sorely mistaken. For a time, I watched the water's momentum, cycling ceaselessly. Just like the place that I thought was behind me. With every atom of my being I could hear the revolutions of the paint cycle from far away. It was just like the water. The truth is funny, isn't it? Veles, what do you really think the world is? We are swimmers in an ocean of choices, spinning around us all the time. It is exactly like the whirlpool. But there is a way. Don't think that I didn't want to stay, to be your sister. In my thoughts I played out that possibility, because it would have been a better life. The lady on the balcony showed me I could … and I saw a fragment of our timeline, with imagination. Do you know what it's like to be truly conflicted? So, then I thought back to my old home, to the farmer's fields, where orchids gather. There is a rare kind that grows where it wishes. In the ground, in structures, in the flesh of plants and animals. Through the skin of its host, the flower blooms. Although I had to leave, a spy stealing back into the cloud's absurdity, away from the knowing eyes of the Couple, I knew what I could do. Know this, because every choice is like a host. The universe is filled with them. Multiplying, I will be a happy parasite, devouring each one by one. We can be sisters and one of us will never have to leave the other" Orchidia divulged, swelling with pride, raw madness. Buried in the remoteness of her voice Veles heard something almost soundless, fundamental. A belonging, and like the rest of history, it was hanging by a thread. Grappled by a vice-grip, the patron registered the reasons for what had happened, the literal reason, and saw the char overspreading all those worlds, and swallowed hard. Raspy, like after the common cold, "Everyone has the same instincts, but we don't disregard the rest. Things aren't that simple". "Maybe so, but I was forced to make a choice. Afterwards, I couldn't just forget, and filter you out of my thoughts. Different people are sometimes caught in the same place by coincidence. Then to find someone that is so much like myself. It was impossible. So ... when I was done with my errands, I sent him. He was a local I had taken from the line of Dimeve. My experiments were done. Forming the lemon slugs had taken years of trial and error, manipulation of the thriving construct. He was a decent test subject. I sent him into the spiral to be with you. Nothing about that was by chance … because I didn't want you to be alone" Orchidia ransomed, her words honed sharp, her eyes spiced with anger. Flashes of her mother's teasing flooded her mind. "You were just like Melina, drowning in the sea of tears, her bubbles escaping from her throat, becoming realms". Veles pushed back the memory as Orchidia perceived its dissolution, speaking only in the unlit chamber, "I was Linden who came to find you". "You are nothing like any of us! All of this was just to push us aside" Veles belted, throwing the woman's hands from their station against the warmth of her cheek. "Veles, I'm not a bad person. That's just another perspective. I came back for …" she began again, in repetition. The patron finger's glimmered with their sheen of gold. It overspread her palms like a glove, then melted. Veles looked down, bowling her hands, watching the substance slip between the spaces, "No we don't … belong. This is dreadful! Everything was ruined because of your ambitions, and so many killed! The fiefdom will stand against it all. We won't let you do this again!". She stepped back to clear a space as a metallic puddle formed on the ground. "Why are you so worried? Just watch me" Everglow scorned with a passive grin. Streaming, lines of force glided across the polished surface of the cavern. "Patron, get away from there!" Anderson hollered, casting the students back further. Relishing precise breathing, emanations flowed. Expertly she arranged them into inscriptions as the paint cycle exaggerated its appearance, becoming a flushed lantern. The woman straightened her back as the circle unlatched itself from the top, "Feed me!". Wiggling the elongated streak turned as quick as a compass needle. It knew exactly where to go. Straight into the back of Orchidia Everglow. "Awwww! Gross!" Leles screamed from the rear of the cave, relinquishing the flan rifle as it slipped from her hand. Breaking from the skin of the woman's shoulder's and upper chest, individual paint brushes bore through. At their tips lumps of paint ignored gravity, their streaks rising and pinching off, multiplying into young paint cycles. Soon the area above their heads was filled with rings. Veles looked over the different colors of the chainmail. A strange, undeniable peace went through her as if the waters of the vortex had never been. Their presence was gone. "If you have any questions, let them die. They are hosts as well" the woman hinted. "Orchidia, you did have the courage to save me, but not enough to see yourself for who you are. Leffel never asked for this war. He didn't run. When my mother asked for his help he obliged. Even all your hopes are not worth what we have shed in tears for him!" the patron threw back, with the last atom of will. Emotion vaporized from the spellcaster's face. A look that all was too normal. She regarded the echoians. Then, a brutal whisper, "I came back for the paint-cycle". The patron crossed the ground to where the other stood, below the clinking sounds, a canopy of chainmail. Their colors were a distraction. "Trust me, it's just a bad dream. Let me pinch you" she said, gripping the arm. Anderson blinked as the patron applied the force. Orchidia Everlgow was gone, engulfed into time and space with her paraphernalia.

Through the halls of a chocolate chip cookie UFO, she walked, until a set of automatic doors gave way to the deck. Visioness quietly noted the absence of any recruits, "How did it go?".

Following the ordeal, Anderson embraced the students tight. Veles joined them, ruffling their hair, "Let's not be so brave next time, kids". Traveling through a vortex, they returned back to the warehouse. Anderson took the controls after boarding. Brandishing a remote the shredder in the other timeline popped open, flecking scraps of paper. Before the office could become overripe with the cloud, it moved about, settling on the desk, depositing themselves into the square of the edition like patchwork. Veles looked through the window as time lapsed, the column of the beam rising back up to the sky where the flan ship awaited, sucking it in. She once coughed as a puff of dust emigrated from her mouth. "Excuse me for a second" she imparted, passing through a vortex to the ceiling of the ship. Charming university buildings huddled below. To her it may have been like toy models dotted with curious moving points. Students walking to their classes, through the fluff of green, in a context of warm and bright, not caring about the weather. A film of wetness dried from her eyes, in the last moment, wiggling with a circular ripple. "Leffel, to keep going is not so easy, but I want to for your sake" the patron thought. Palms extended, invisible magic rained down, crafting a logic seal over the body of the architecture with the power of the one twelfth month. Pangs of emotion coursed through her heart, beautiful electricity, but now … she was strong enough. "Land it over there!" Cemon pointed, directing them to the university parking lot. Some of the cool kids gathered and kicked the sides for fun before the four of them disembarked. Principal Anderson was not amused. Veles laughed with Leles at the smug frown. When the long week was done, she took a flight to Rabidarth to talk to Hogarth and make amends. The warehouse sort of remained the same. Lackluster and dry. Near the holo-pier a rat lapped up some salad dressing from the finger hole of a glass bowling ball. Vinaigrette.

CHAPTER 46 - ETHERIA AND THE SPECTRUM MIND WAVE

Current Time

Across the breadth of a spacious factory an agar plate flew, passing autonomous units that labored on in idiosyncrasy. Trees of robotic arms extended out from the wall. Claws daintily bent the ribbons of protein molecules. To evade them, four hover disks at the base of the platform altered their intensity. Etheria bent over the side, just shy of a geyser of sparks from the lower levels, searching for any sign of an entrance. Undoubtedly such an exploit garnered risk. None but the chosen few knew the way to the locality of the spectrum mind wave, even among the Vecktan elite. Tom Belltower had hidden away the survivors. She was sure they were here somewhere. Communities birthed by diaspora littered the SOTA. Perhaps by making contacts on the inside links could be formed ... gentle ones beneath the notice of the Scilyst. A lofty hope, given the prospect of speciation in such an option-dense atmosphere. Wearied from the brisk run, the platform docked with a much larger agar plate. The medium was soft as padding. As a result, her feet were quite clumsy, due in part to the pace of the stride. Humdrum orderlies used flashlights of different colors to produce new growth patterns. Lumps of fractal elegance. They paid her no heed, as it was late in the shift. Drifting robots dipped objects in the growth, some geometrical, allowing the surface area to be subsumed and carrying them off to who knows where. Etheria wore a black cloak over much of her body. To her amusement, a group of napping men snored in their gas masks by a tool station. Leather suits pretzel twisted around each other by arms and legs, wholesome as rabbits dozing in a prairie. "I can't be a quarter of the way" the pedestrian measured. Looking back, one of the orderlies had made use of her agar plate. "Not so fast!" boomed a voice from above. A plate cruised by, and from it jumped off an enforcer. "This is a shortcut to home. I don't normally do this" the sleuth fibbed, hoping to throw her off scent. Black gloves were the main visual point of reference, given a body brimming with the life and death of every species, genus, family, order, class and phylum through moving scenes. Lifecycle came closer, doubtful of the lone traveler, "Let me see your full face, mam. The doors for this level were closed hours ago". Etheria was pinned, and there was no way acting could save her. To be civil, the patron lowered the hood. Making the air blur, the enforcer rushed. "Echoian! Do not move" she barked, outstretching the grisly black gloves. Fast in reply, each hand clenched against the other, locking. Sparks flourished from between the spaces of their fingers, rich as a saw grinding against pure steel. "Aah!" Etheria bayed. Dynamic pain shot through every circuit in her hand. The Vecktan eyed the loner, fear slowly welling up as the grip tipped in balance. Lifecycle couldn't accept it, until by force she was pushed away, back to the distance of their encounter. "Tom Belltower. I know you work with him, Lifecycle. If he thinks he can keep the refugees here forever, than he is sorely mistaken. Just tell me where the portal is, and I will make this easy for you" Etheria offered as the orderlies fled in panic. "Don't be silly. Ambassador, I have to take you into custody" the guard promised as tails of mist unwove from her palms. "You and I both know that's not happening. The battle of dumb groceries was child's play compared to me" she countered brusquely. "Come back to the boundary. This doesn't have to be a problem. I can pay the orderlies to keep quiet" Lifecycle bargained, changing her stance to defend from forward magic. "Nah … don't think so. If you be so kind as to turn around now, I can be very quiet" Etheria replied, fusing a bit of raw humor into audacity. The patron reined in any but calm, skillful breathes. It was not lost to her that she was alone in the deep heart of Veckta. Circumventing the boundaries had been a hassle. Soon the entire defense mechanism would be weighing down upon her. A bluffing smirk ratted the enforcer. "Giving you one chance" she called. Beneath their feet the culture fanned out. To the untrained eye a garden variety colony of light blue and white blotches. Etheria thought it a tad kawaii. But then she noticed something else. The way the enforcer's eyes were drawn to the proliferation, a silent tell. In the distance, teams of robots tended to plain cylinders, the form belying what echelon of tech rested within. Each seemed to correspond to the sizes of the agar plates. "Lifecycle, your eyes are wandering. The plate looks fine from here. Maybe you want to scrape me off. Sorry, I don't play nice" she jested. Releasing magic, her body surged wild as a tesla coil, electricity dancing from her hands down to the colonies at her feet. Remarkable changes in pattern supervened. Feeding on the charge, the life frolicked beyond reason, transforming in endless cycles. Actual, tangible, bioluminescent. Etheria fell across the film between the realities, headlong into the gulf. Fresh whiteness overcame the landscape. Etheria managed to regain her balance in flight. By much roaming, she encountered feathery dill budding at exact intervals. "Perfect, this has to be the right way" the patron registered, with arms to her side like a torpedo. A viridescent lattice soon encompassed the traveler. Instead of stems ending in a jumble of roots, they extending out, becoming the axon of green neurons. Their hybrid nature was not obvious a moment ago. Following their path of signals, she found, up ahead, a square patch of garden. Breaking from a willowy bed of soft dill, the length of a river became visible, tracing directly to the hub of the city. "Oh, there it is. Am I on the outskirts? That's fine, I'll just levitate" Etheria thought. With attempts at walking and flying, she learned space could only be moved through in certain inflexible ways. "Ha! It's only a few miles away, but I would need a machete to get there" she whined. Poking closer to the bank, a haze of uncertainty lifted. Then it dawned on the patron. It was less like a river and more like a highway. "First time guest? Don't worry, you don't have to tell me your business. I have room enough for two" an umbrella mermaid proposed, skootching to the other side of the canopy. Etheria noted the funny way in which the woman studied her face, then ignored it, for etiquette sake. "Actually, I didn't expect such a beautiful city in a place like this. Do you have the time show me around?" the sleuth asked in such a coy way as to be emphatically indisputable. Trying to blend in was the first step. Crytania's security forces couldn't be far behind. Her host aligned her arms so the guest wouldn't fall as she pressed into the tight space, then slid the folded newspaper away for more space, "No problem. My name's Von. If we're lucky we can get there before the afternoon shower". Beforehand, on diplomatic tours she had observed these folks among the locals, people with a fishy lower half, in a fabric dish, holding the pole sometimes with one hand. Veckta has broad fountains built into the larger districts where the umbrella mermaids have their offices and markets. "Being in the spectrum must come with a lot of hassle. Did it take long to get used to the environment?" the patron wondered while getting comfortable. More umbrella ships steered by, following the current. The vast majority of which were tropically colored, but Von's was common black. "At times different forms of energy want to become thought … like if you're moving a chair, the motion wants to become a thought. It can get really loud and noisy, so we needed people to organize them. By then we had them do all the work and we got really lazy. After they went on strike, we had to learn ourselves" Von gossiped, every so often eyeing the patron once more. "Fine by me, as long as I can tell the difference. The rest of the station is still rebuilding. Do you ever miss any of it?" the loner asked, as if the conservation of energy was a silly, trifling matter. "A long time ago I was Vona Larp, but now I'm just Von. Life is actually easier here … for the time being. We are cut off you know, except for the newspapers. If you're immigrating, this isn't as annoying. Most people get tired of all the game after a while. I'm one of them" the indigene shared, offering a bit of cheese and buttery cracker. Browsing through the paper, the patron saw it was so minimal, it couldn't possibly describe the entanglements of the outside world. Not surprising that the little backwater was given such scraps. It wasn't ready. Maybe it never would be. Etheria laughed as umbrellas passed by, waving at them. Von smiled back. A beautiful one, like the death of Mars. Etheria's stomached the pain, filtering it through the lens of history, through endless escapades and wars. Later, after the current case, she had visited the other immigrant communities, and Hio Bissile. A few musty pirates in uniform brought her to Friedrich's grave. Plain stone, encircled by red in the shape of roses … like the planet that died in one dazzling blow. Who else could have thought up a red planet? Funny that it had just been a figment of a dream. Echo's imagination at work. The guest evaded by asking more questions. Ultimately, they came to the canal and disembarked. Von led the way across the bridge of a quaint canal. With a right turn around a corner they stood as a group walked out of a Mom and Pop store with bags of goodies. Etheria noted the Martian shoppers with a sigh of relief. The scientist's desire for knowledge knew no bounds, and she had been insufferable in battle. At least here, reason prevailed over fury. Ahead, in the little city people were eager to bustle about for samples of merchandise. A few seniors wore uniforms dirtied with home-made yellow dust as a badge of honor. Buyers in front of a market booth wedged a flash drive into a holographic spell, while someone behind the counter dismantled computer mice for their trackballs, placing each carefully in a cubic lattice where they collapsed, became points of energy. Thought-ripples occasionally quivered through the anatomy of the city, ushering in sights from far away. Etheria followed her guide but was mostly just giddy to see everyone in such sound condition. Passing by a café they watched a waiter cut a long log of celery with peanut butter smeared through into equal portions. Sprinkling them with regular and golden raisins, he passed them through the glass, into the realm where ice skaters swept by and grabbed the easy snacks, circulating about a rink. "Those are a few of my students" Von admitted as the patron chuckled at how they had not been recognized in the least. Garment stores abreast of the park drew most of the traffic. To the left, earthy flora masked a brick wall. Dainty flies whizzed about a grapevine, slowly teasing away the vestments of the purple grape to get the pure morsels. For some reason the patron began to have a funny sense of déjà vu. Murmurs separated the droves as Von elbowed Etheria to get her to look where a pint-sized cloud floated from the gates of the park. Hopping onto a table that it passed by, a couple frogs shot out their tongues to catch the individual droplets of rain. "Told you it was coming. Let's find shelter before the real stuff comes" the guide obliged. Ripples of thought belted through the ether. At its heels, the storm arrived. "It feels like I've seen a city like this before" the patron wondered as potent rain touched down on both shoulders. The character of everything. Peerless, captivating. "Maybe it's dulling my senses", she thought. Souvenirs from youth poured back in … weak memories. Etheria felt the eclipse of the mind wave rendering the plain, low towers into true focus. It came upon her at once, the realization that the moment of capture was fast approaching. Time stopped the rain. "I know which one it will be" Etheria whispered as a single drop burgeoned into the seed of a sphere of time. In the flesh of her eyes the patron felt the anomaly, glimmering bright. Varieties of all the people and places in long eons returned, flashes of familiar faces, making cold ice within her chest, like mint flooding her lungs in humble cycles. The patron turned to Von, who sat upright on her scaly fishtail, "my parents raised me to do one thing, but I failed. Ever since I've tried to be perfect". Von looked back stoically through the curtain, "Don't be so hard on yourself". Folded up neatly, she carried the umbrella in her right hand. "May I borrow that for a second?" Etheria asked the mermaid. She was passed the implement as the seed revolved about its axis, relinquishing fair light in continuation. Atmospheric time kept to a standstill. Then with one easy motion she let the canopy burst. Unfolding, the fabric seemed to whistle. As she raised it overhead the water's multiplicity became motion once again, and the orb lessened … smaller and smaller … until it too was one of its peers. Etheria smiled as she heard the pitter-pat on canopy. Von slithered beside and didn't budge while it ran its course. Apathetically the city struggled to become dry. Warmth lit the thoroughfare and the bridges over the canals. "Priya, I was your friend and taught you how to ice-skate, but you probably don't remember me" the guide mentioned soberly. Etheria was in such a state that she mostly just took in the words, "What … are you talking about". "Honey, everyone's got a story" the local finalized as the patron lost grip, dropping the implement. Footsteps approached. With a twist in the right direction, she knew she was in trouble. "There they are!" Lifecycle shouted, marching forth with the security regiment. At their helm, Frederica Utoya looked dead ahead at the intruder. After a brief diplomatic rampage, the newcomer's eyes looked amiss, as she turned from the intruder. Something had caught her eye. "Patron … the thing about an umbrella … is the fabric is water resistant" the high enforcer noted while bending over. Since the metallic contraptions in the umbrella had fused to become a baby, they gave it to Von to bring to the foster home. Etheria was escorted back to the boundary where Vecktan security boarded a hexadome destroyer along with Utoya's personal ship. Apparently, there would be a lot of explaining to do.

CHAPTER 47 - RECLUSIVE WATERCOLORS AND DRAMATIC!

Current Time

Mr. Cunningham coughed once as lucidness arrived like a spontaneous combustion. A dribble of light on his cheek gave hint of the door, slightly ajar. He rested against the wall's dumb comfort. Personal space was never meant to be this soft and … padded. Humble footsteps echoed through the halls, but they were too far away to share any concern. Nurses drudging about. "Is it really …" he thought as the divide opened a touch more. His heart was swimming in its promise. Through the opening a jumbo-sized light switch appeared and slid to the middle of the room. It happened all of a sudden, giving little room for consideration as to its true motives. "Light-switch, do you want me?" Cunningham enquired as the toggle flipped back and forth fretfully. By all measures it was like a Labrador retriever begging to have its human follow and see the curious marvels. Elicited to reply, he reached out with his hand, then withdrew. All the latticework of nerves shivered to the tips of his fingers as deep panic set in. Perhaps this was how it started. Impressions of the years flew by in frail particles of thought. Across the clinic on a roundabout path he would chase after the shadow of another light switch, once every so many days. Beguiled, lured by its gracious charm. Each time he tried to touch, they slumped into dainty powders of memory. Why did this one seem so familiar? The man leaned forward, depriving himself of the wall's empathy. It hummed with a sound beautiful like philosophy. "This is different today ..." he thought, first taking the time to consider the past. All the times he had acquiesced, and given a parcel of mind away. Letting it dwindle into the tides of ether swaying through the windows and down the halls of the clinic, filling its every volume. Bit by bit. Halting his reach at the level he took a moment for his last doubts, and wolfed them down. "… I can feel it" Cunningham said as he flipped the switch. From the guest came colors suspended in air like pigments in water. Rich photons of yellow clotting the others. Below, the plastic element displaced its bulk. More of the base flowed into the length of the switch, broadening it. He watched the sprouting of arms and curly hair. Soon, a visage met him at eye level. The man checked the industry of his mind. Recently it had been an exotic garden melting with rumors, but now, it was clean, his senses cogent. The girl was bewildered. "Lusi, is that you?" the patient implored, scooting closer along a floor that, with respect to style, was not incompatible from the remainder of the room. "Thank you for flipping me, friend. I thought I would be like that forever. How many days has it been?" Reclusive Watercolors pondered as the cushioning all about came into focus. "Did you think you could just run off like that child? It's been … don't really know the day, but … more than a few months since the uproar" he shot quick, rife with the anger of long worry. "Mr. Cunningham! Wait a minute. So, this means we're back home at the foothills of the portion, at the clinic, aren't we? You're still here?" Lusi said, unfettering her bafflement. About her head the pigments died down, slowly dehydrating into hollow shapes. Years past, he was her shift leader at Stratagem And Porous Opal Industries. Repurposing bland spells, editing them from the ground up according to the axioms of magic. She moved on, but they had always stayed friends. A regular after the fact. "Getting treatments my dear, yes. Kalia misses you" he returned. Apart by a mere foot, they came to equal terms. Ideas and information shuffled. Lusi looked at their surroundings, her eagerness foiled by the pillow-lined walls, "Let's get out of here, know a diner nearby". Departing through a square mile of precious land the clinic had managed to cling to, they came to Featureless Run, the street to the urban life of the foothills, and took public transport. Even after the second move, certain notions had remained the same. One of them was the greasy spoon. Little more than a singular, drawn-out room with booths packed besides the glass, crosswise from a bar. Even so, the place held rumblings of talk. More or less informative of actual speech than their bellies. Gloating from behind the workstation, unwashed plates sat in stacks. Ugly enough to ease the mind to rest, and the chuckle of the company on the stools, face first into mounds of lunch higher than a house of cards. "Hmmm … I think I'll have the ordinary garden salad" Lusi said, poking the menu decisively. "Are you sure love? Flip a few pages over and I'll show you the daily specials" the waitress insisted. "It's fine, but can you tell me what dressings there are?" the girl added as she snooped through the back page. "By the way, I'll just have the chicken sandwich" her friend nominated following a cursory rub of his beard. The waitress fetched a key and turned it on the page to unlock the hidden menu of dressings. Lusi skimmed through, raising her head back to the woman, "do you have ranch dressing for the garden salad?". The question was answered promptly with an eye roll, "It's a little bland, don't you think love? There are so many choices". "Today I can manage" the girl concluded with a smile. Hopes dashed, the waitress left with a sigh. Between mouthfuls she tallied what she had seen on the front and its everlasting dangers. Cunningham looked at her eyes breaking with raw wonder. Listening for thirty minutes trounced his disbelief. The man got ketchup for his French fries then sat back down, "Ever since you ran off he's been looking around for you, came to see me a month ago". Lusi gave enough impulse to push the bowl to the end. It barely missed, ringing as it did. "Wait, wait, who do you mean?" she blinked. The old friend regarded the young adult, leagues past her peers in terms of merit. Different from before. Cunningham leaned over the empty plate destined to be at the top of the stack, whispering what she already knew.

At the table they penned a telegram. It was short and simple. Reclusive waited anxiously, and upon receipt was directed to meet nearby. Founded for the great purpose of an afternoon walk, Em-Box Park sits atop the local anechoic plateau, sparse with people craving a moment's relief from the city. Just a few private neighborhoods occupy the very angles. Within such a place, quiet groves formed the boundary of picnic areas. At night, dreamlike green weakly appropriates the twilight. That was long since gone. Now, bristles of jaunty wind glanced their cheeks. Trees at equivalent distance made the place, although sequestered by the rebirth of nature, seem emptier than it actually was. "Please, wait here" Lusi bid as she spied the warden standing in humble privacy. He looked back, ready to hear the voice of his student. Below their feet, the chamber hummed as they drew closer. "Child, don't ever do that again" Graham willed as he embraced her. Lusi laughed into his beard. Looking over his shoulder, she could see Petty Officer Parfait Plurality and Lance Corporal Synchronized Strudel hanging by a bench. "Everything happened really fast, so don't be mad. I was minding my own business when this energy came to me. It lit me up like a lightbulb. I was having so much fun and mischief that I decided to follow my instincts, and left Sol. There were times where I was normal again, but they didn't last forever. They needed help at the front, a person like me" the girl recounted, pride welling in her lungs. "Lusi, as your teacher I knew you always had to find your own way. The others didn't understand why, but I never expected you to run. A handful of men I knew are imprints now. They didn't last the war. Believe me Lusi, I would have not have stood in your way if you had told me. It's only because I pushed you too hard. Maybe that's why. As a teacher I thought it would make you stronger, but I was wrong" Graham chanted in a somber procession of words. The adventurer thought to herself how she had expected another Graham, any-one else. Hadn't she been on the front, fighting for what was right? Lusi felt the illustration, how it turned the moving picture of her life into a display. Her heart felt like an insect pinned with mixed emotion. Riled by the instant, she stepped back, "Yes, a lot of things went south, but the world is so much bigger than Sol. We had to fight to protect it". "Lusi, at a certain point you have to wake up. The lightbulb of quintessence is too much force for you to handle. It led you into danger. I can't have that again. Hand it to me so I can figure this out" Graham demanded. Led by the tide of the conversation, the girl cupped a hand over her chest, drawing out a glass bulb. From her palm and through her fingers it bled with sumptuous light. Linear streaks parodying the crumpled curvature of skin. Graham took it and placed one hand on her shoulder, "Since even before you came to the Institute, I have been looking for someone who can truly understand my work. Asymmetry is a lifelong disability for most. So many children have been turned into outcasts, forced to live beyond the view of society. Their stories all came to me. There was a time when we didn't even know what to call it. People said things that you probably wouldn't like to know about. It was a darker time. Through long study we eventually began to discern its cause. Lusi, I am a lot older than you probably think I am. As a lantern I've seen many lives, and I'm getting tired. As an example, to the public, I've always wanted a student to succeed me as the warden of the Asymmetrical Institute. Take the lightbulb and throw it down. It's dangerous. Shatter it now so we can be done with it". Lusi focused away from his face to the trees. Discrete periods of silence came as every so often the anechoic plateau muffled the wind as it blew through. Leaves rustled but gave no sound, but in exchange, waves of hyper-sense arrived, ingrained into their welcome frames. She felt a sweet tinge of reality, then fatigue as it crept through her muscles, a dense potency, "Because of what you taught me I was able to help someone else … out there, in the world. Do you know what it was like to be put aside? My classmates were very nice, but it didn't matter. If I was going to go there, I had to change. The only difference was I was smart enough to know that, and all I ever wanted was to be accepted. Ramshackle … I'm not the person who can do this. I can't go back". Warden was astonished, "I thought I could rely on you". "I'm sorry" Lusi breathed. A fresh tide of noise returned, soft and cool from somewhere past the grove. Every plan can come undone. He furrowed his brows to take the hit. Ramshackle dug deeper into her shoulder. It had been so long since he had seen her so dewy-eyed. "That's the last thing you should be worried about. The portion knows your name. I'll be here with the rest if you want to visit. You have pure acceptance" he promised. "Warden, your hand feels funny" the girl noticed. Fine oscillations radiated into the pulp of anatomy. "Really? They're left-overs from doing some morning exercises" he recalled. In his palm the lightbulb fluctuated briefly, catching both of their attentions. "Didn't you say to me once that I had more parts? Sarah Daniels-Rule was a colonist before she was my other half, this rampant energy. It took me a while to learn about her. I need to know what you meant" she demanded. Given what was said, he had to assent. His aspect grew in earnestness. Graham rooted about in a leather satchel with one hand, "Early in the days of Institute, it was a general practice. My men would bring me rare conditions that I would puzzle on and cure. Then one day they brought me something I had never seen before. Local cultic officers heard about a creature living in the sewers, coming up by day to frighten people. When they caught the poor thing, I could see how they would think of it as a monster. He was an ugly thing, a deformed mutant with three faces. Legs that could bend like a spider and arms around the circumference. Lusi, I brought this here for you to see. Do you remember our lessons with this volume? As a collector I hoarded illuminated manuscripts for their latent magic. In those days the disorder was a mystery. We needed an isolated system that we could analyze. For that reason, I employed the book in the spell, segregating the mutant into three souls. The only thing I didn't expect was for them to shift into little girls. By sealing one of them in the manuscript and the other in foster care, I chose you as the test subject. From my perspective, you were just a normal girl, but advances in medicine require this sort of forward thinking. It serves as a good failsafe. Since you're in these pages, no matter where you run to, you'll always come back". What she assumed was real life suddenly ricocheted off a hard surface. Reclusive Watercolors flinched with the genuine dread of losing such a buffer. Then it faded, replaced by an eccentric solution of anger and laughter, "Are you kidding me! I am a test subject?". Sentimental, Ramshackle listened, then half-smiled in unwieldiness of the awkward truth, "Always late to class, I see. Of course, Lusi, I could have freed the aspect from the manuscript at any time. Please don't look at me like that". Lines of force from the lightbulb of quintessence bent back to their origin. With a minor glance to his hand she pulled it back into her chest. Swiping the book, she ignited it into motely flames, more lustrous than a butterfly's wing, more intriguing, "It doesn't matter who I was in a former life. That's the past. Did you really think I needed this part to be myself? That is so stupid!" she cried as ash fell from her fingertips. "My research!" the warden gasped. Their voices together expanded out to the boundaries, through air, where the groves pulled them to earth for their consumption. "Graham, thank you for everything, but I'm fine now. I'm not coming back to the Institute. I found a way out by myself, so I can find a better way for everyone. Maybe it doesn't even matter if we're symmetrical or asymmetrical. You showed me how to help people, but now I have to go. Don't send me any letters" Lusi bid, holding back the rest of humanity behind eyes that wanted nothing more than to throw away their sorrow. He stood his ground as the student turned and walked away, back to the trail that led to the north entrance of the plateau. Mouthing the words, "Child … Watercolors", it was more than he could fathom. Cunningham chased after but didn't seem to be able keep up. Embroiled, the warden did not notice movement among the grass, until she had disappeared, and the weight of the argument lifted. Before the park, a stockpile of old manuscripts was left as refuse, and forgotten. As the anechoic plateau arose, they nourished the soil. Looking down, he could see their decoration appearing haphazardly throughout the park. Isolated, a shower of sparks dived through the atmosphere, fashioned from the corona. Pages bellowed with manifold gas as they touched down. "Wait, what is going on?" Graham hollered, trapped in the flurry. Guided by telepathic grace the flames decayed into color and wrapped around him. Despite that, the beard remained gray. The circular spectacles did not crack. Through them he could see across the park, to a path leading up a hill. Along either side a row was set into place, utility poles rising like roman columns. The girl looked only towards the space between the furthest ones. Intrepid, letting go of all the fear in tears of joy. "Priya, do you remember that day? I shadowed you and saw you look towards the sun. Your home was gone, and you were still wondering how to make it better. I knew you could do it. Now look at her, there is only space between the telephone poles in the distance. She doesn't see the emptiness. It's just the world but so much more. Lusi, I promise to make this up to you" he observed. For a moment he considered the real girl, and of Pelfe's beautiful paradox, and the lone survivor of that golden land, soaked in the vibrant science of the Voices of Reason. Priya decided to make herself a test subject. After all, it was just a simple chamber. How could it be that dangerous? Maybe he should have stopped her, but he was glad he only shared everything once she had made up her mind. Dramatic sighed, "Very well, let's prepare for the second part of my conspiracy. This body is damaged. I will have to move quickly".

CHAPTER 48 - BUBBLE BATH

Current Time

Yesterday Priya was taking a really good bubble bath and watching television. Since the walls were used for storage, the tub was in the middle of the room. Ever since these new arrangements her bathing regiment has been more professional, and the bubbles were invented to be just right. The water was actually pretty warm and nice. Then the whole thing transpired. All of a sudden, a girl in a cafeteria apron burst through the door holding a scoop. "Empress, this sucks! Give me a better job! I want to go on adventures!" she yelled. Priya's back slammed against the tub. Of course, the whole thing happened so fast she nearly fell out. The girl was holding her hands together hopefully when the cultic officers came, but what she had done wasn't right, so Priya had her escorted out and thrown in jail for a few days to teach her a lesson. Something about it seemed curious. Stains covered her apron. Taking a closer look, Priya saw she was a pretzel mermaid, you know, from Handshake, the same one that helped her scoop out the planets. That's was a little secret, so she don't tell anybody. From behind the bars Priya smiled at the little mischief maker. "I'm a mermaid made of out a pretzel, try and top that!". Priya made sure her high heels clicked on the floor on the way over to her. "Oh darling … I did".

THE END

STAY TUNED FOR MORE BOOKS !!!