From Fulgonia, with Love

ONE YEAR AGO…

“Thanks for taking me out today,” said Latvia, “It really means a lot.”

“What, are you kidding?” said Estonia as she raised her hand to flag down a waiter. “It’s your birthday, Latvia. The least I can do is take you out to lunch and buy you a couple of drinks. What with Lithuania on active duty and all… someone in the family has to be with you today!”

Latvia clenched her teeth, guiltily. “Yeah, I don’t know if drinking is such a good idea right now. I’ve got to go back to the paper and—”

“Oh stop being a pooper,” said Estonia with a dismissive gesture. “Hi,” she said in her sugar-sweet voice as the waiter approached, “My sister here would like a LushLocks Iced Tea, and I’ll have an Econometric-Electric Lemonade for myself please. Thanks!”

Latvia blushed as the waiter departed their little umbrella-shaded outdoor table. “How do you know I don’t want the lemonade too?”

Estonia gave her sister’s hand a quick pat, “Trust me, you’ll love it. I know your taste.”

“You do?” Latvia asked skeptically. She wasn’t one to drink often, and when she did, it was rarely with her sisters.

Estonia ignored her. “So, how’s life at the paper?”

Latvia shrugged. Her sister seemed awfully perky today. “Oh, you know. The same. I still get paid to stay on top of what’s going on all around the world, then dish my political commentary out on the column.”

Estonia smiled. “Well, you and I both know it’s the perfect job for you to fulfill your end of our little… extracurricular mission.”

“Of course,” grinned Latvia, “How about you? How are things at the embassy?”

Estonia frowned. She had been working at the Foggistani embassy for over a year now, as assistant director in the department of Foggistani-Coralendian relations. “It’s a handful, as usual. I mean, I keep stressing how important it is that we establish a stronger bond of trust between ourselves and Coralende… but every time I make a move, some higher-up Foggistani official is asking me to mask another secret. I mean, there is no transparency with them, whatsoever. It’s like Foggistan wants to screw itself over.”

“But how bad can their secrets be? Why be so shady?”

“They’re stupid,” Estonia said, leaning back into her chair. “So they’re mining the moon. Big deal! And still, they don’t want the public to know. So I have to tell the world they’re testing rocks—”

Latvia leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Shouldn’t you… like… not say these things in public?”

“Relax,” said Estonia, rolling her eyes, “It’s not like anyone is listening. Look around you.” Latvia scanned the faces at all the other tables.

“Well… you never know,” said Latvia as the waiter approached and delivered the drinks.

“I just don’t understand the need for all the secrecy, you know?” Estonia continued. “I mean, it’s been what—almost fifty years now since Foggistan arrived? And we are still dealing with trust issues?”

“Maybe it’s not Coralende they don’t trust,” Latvia said. “Maybe they’re worried about something else.”

Estonia laughed. “We’re at peace, Latvia. With everyone.”

Latvia leaned in even further, suddenly eager to talk about the matter more for the sake of discussion than for the sake of serious conversation. “Well, we still don’t know who caused the Great Digital Fire now, do we?” she said.

“Oh come on. That was over two hundred years ago.”

“And,” continued Latvia, ignoring her sister, “We are in the process of developing some pretty badass communications technology—technology that won’t only make Coralende think we’re awesome, but the entire galaxy as well, right? And I’d imagine they want to keep that top secret, otherwise, we might lose the intergalactic political clout we’d gain by sharing the technology once it’s complete.”

Estonia frowned. “Fair enough. But how many big projects like that can we have under wraps?”

“It’s your job to conceal them. You tell me.”

“I only sugarcoat their actions. They’ll never tell me why they do what they do. Like—I’ll never know why they’re mining the moon.”

“Well,” said Latvia snappishly, “It’s a good thing we’ve got you at the embassy then, asking no questions, sugarcoating all of Foggistan’s moves so no one else asks any questions…”

Estonia smiled wryly. “Don’t say that. There’s only so much sugarcoating I’m willing to do before I expect some straight answers. I’ve never caught wind of Foggistan doing anything reprehensible… They’re just getting more and more secretive, is all.” Estonia bit her lip. “But I won’t deny that on the surface, the Foggistani agenda appears pretty damn sketchy sometimes—”

“Yeah,” said Latvia, finally arriving at what was really on her mind, “Makes me question our—what did you call it? ‘Extracurricular mission’ sometimes…”

“Oh don’t say that,” Estonia frowned. “It’s not a big conspiracy. It’s our legacy. We know we’re doing the right thing. We just don’t have all the answers...”

“Yeah, well,” Latvia sipped her tea, “I sure think we’d do a hell of a better job if we had some answers.”

“Someday,” said Estonia. “…though sometimes I wonder why we bother following this legacy… after mom and dad left us and all.”

“Estonia,” Latvia objected.

“Then again,” Estonia continued, well aware of having pushed a button, “Our legacy is about more than just mom and dad. It’s just hard sometimes, you know? Having faith in something we don’t fully understand…”

Latvia nodded. “Tell me about it.”

Then a brief silence ensued, during which both sisters sipped their drinks and stared off into nowhere in particular. “You still have those crazy dreams?” asked Estonia.

Latvia snapped out of her reverie. “Dreams?”

“You know… see things? Visions?”

“I was referring to the fact that you still call them crazy dreams.” Latvia snapped, suddenly defensive. “You know they’re more than that.”

Estonia looked away, beginning to regret having mentioned the subject. “I’m sorry then. I just thought… since Lithuania and I both stopped having them… and the three of us have been prone to having extremely overactive imaginations—”

“The things you and Lithuania saw never came true.”

Estonia rolled her eyes. “Oh, well I’m sorry then, little miss psychic. Lithuania and I are just delusional. Of course your visions make perfect sense.” Peeved, she looked away.

Latvia opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. She sighed. Yes, she was a little touchy about the subject, but she didn’t have to bite Estonia’s head off. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Yes, I still have them. I just—I guess I just have it in my head that you and Lithuania never take anything I see seriously… And yes, they are usually scenes of what turn out to be future events. I’m sorry if the things you see—or used to see—never meant much to you… I didn’t mean to imply they were nonsense.”

Estonia’s expression softened. “Well they were. Nonsense, that is. Lithuania’s visions were never more than whacky dreams… and mine—mine are just places. I never actually see anything happening, like you do.” She paused. “At any rate, we don’t have them anymore.”

“That’s because you never cultivated them.”

“Why cultivate something that doesn't make sense?”

“Well maybe they make sense in a different way,” Latvia said, trying to sound optimistic.

Estonia shrugged. “Meh. I don’t know. You were the one mom gave a Fortune Box to. I think that means you’re the one with the visions that need cultivating.” She paused. Latvia looked sympathetic. “Don’t worry Latvia. I’m perfectly happy not seeing the future. It’s OK. Speaking of the Fortune Box… do you use the crystal orb anymore?”

Latvia smiled, glad that the topic was veering away from the sense or senselessness of their visions. “No, not really. The visions I get through that thing are way too real. Plus, I never really need to use it. If I want to know an outcome, the dice and cards are usually enough.”

Estonia nodded. “Good.”

“Good?”

“I mean—I don’t know,” she said, crossing her arms. “I just remember this one time… when I caught mom using her orb. Her eyes were glazed over and she was muttering nonsense… It’s just creepy.”

“A little,” said Latvia.

“I mean—it’s OK that you were born with this seeing-the-future deal and what-not, however the hell that happened. And cards, and dice… at least they make it all seem kind of like a game. But the orb—that’s just straight-up witchcraft, if you ask me.”

“What do you mean by witchcraft?”

Estonia’s eyes flashed. “No, Latvia. I am not going to define ‘witchcraft’ just to amuse you, then show you how I’m inconsistent by accepting cards and dice and not accepting crystal orbs when they are both, in fact, witchcraft. So shut it.” Latvia grinned. “Orbs are creepy. Cards and dice aren’t. That’s it.”

Latvia sipped her last bit of tea. “At least you're proving yourself wrong for me now,” she said, smiling smugly. Then her eyes lit up. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She took her purse, dangling from her chair’s backrest, and extracted a small, white square box. “I found this on my desk today,” she said. Then she pulled a small envelope from her inner jacket pocket, “It came with this note. It says it’s from a ‘family friend’… but I have no idea who it might be. Maybe you do?”

Estonia was curious. “Let me see,” she said, taking the envelope and extracting a plain, white card. On the inside, in blue, glossy ink and a very elegant hand, was written:

“Every day’s your birthday when time is non-linear. May this gift protect you from the peril it brings, and lead you to the truth. Happy birthday. –A family friend.”

Estonia arched her left eyebrow suspiciously. “OK. That’s... kinda creepy. What’s in the box?”

“Another box,” said Latvia, pulling a smaller box of what appeared to be blue marble out from the squared box.

“Ooooh! A jewelry case?”

Latvia’s expression was flat. “No. Look,” she said, leaning in and turning the box so Estonia could see where it opened. Right above the box’s tiny, glistening silver clasp was engraved:

“From Fulgonia: Beware erratic content”

“The hell?”

“Yeah, that’s why I haven’t opened it. I don’t know if it’s some sort of joke, or what…”

Estonia held the box and eyed it carefully. “It’s heavy.”

“It is marble,” said Latvia.

“You said you just found this on your desk?” Latvia nodded. “So it’s from a co-worker, maybe?”

“I asked around. Nobody knew. Nobody saw anyone even approach my desk. I found it when I returned from the bathroom.”

Estonia continued scrutinizing the box. “Well, it must be a joke. Fulgonia was on planet Breckinridge. And we all know what happened there… To be genuine, this thing would have to be over a thousand years old, and have traveled hundreds of light years.”

“Yeah. Which would make it a pretty expensive present.”

Estonia placed it back on the table. “The ‘erratic content’ warning is pretty bizarre though.”

“Maybe it’s got a big blob of living jelly.”

“Or a pair of radioactive implants.”

“They'd have to be pretty small to fit in there.”

“Well everyone knows you don’t need much,” Estonia quipped.

“Well whatever, I’m opening the damn thing—”

“Wait!”

It was too late. Latvia casually released the silver clasp, and immediately all sound came to a halt. The sky went dark—the world around the two sisters came to a complete standstill—and everything froze. Waiters holding pitchers of water half-poured into glasses—a sparrow about to perch itself atop an umbrella—a woman with her fork halfway to her mouth—everything, absolutely everything, was frozen in time. Latvia stared at Estonia. Estonia stared at Latvia.

“Are you seeing this?” Latvia asked, her pitch unnaturally high. Estonia nodded, terrified.

And then the box opened of its own accord, and slowly, tiny specks of brilliant blue light began to emerge from the inside. Dozens, hundreds, thousands—the specks spiraled gracefully out of the box, casting everything around them under a ghostly blue glow. And when every last speck was finally out, all of them together forming a spiraling helix of ethereal blue light—they exploded.

Latvia and Estonia screamed, as the bursting specks rushed and flooded their eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth—they were drowning in a shower of flashing light—sound—fire—air—

Silence.

Latvia opened her eyes.

She was in her seat, under the umbrella-shaded table. Estonia was sitting opposite her, her face bloodless. Everything around them had returned to normal. The water had been poured, the sparrow had landed, the fork had reached the woman’s mouth. But Latvia and Estonia still felt an electrified, tingling sensation, spinning through their core, running down their extremities. They felt utterly, painfully, and absolutely awake. And alive.

Estonia stared at her sister, her eyes wide open, her pupils dilated. “What the hell just happened to us?”

The Double Agent

It had been weeks since jacob martin had heard from winfry or isa. Depression was sinking his ship. He hadn’t realized how attached he had become to their quirky charm. That was unexpected. You see, jacob, above all things, was lonely and used to it. He knew it, probably even took pride in it. And yet, hardly anyone suspected jacob of loneliness because he was never alone. He had his herd of friends. Wherever he went, there was sure to be someone keeping him… well company isn’t the right word. Few people actually kept jacob martin company. In spite of the apparent bubbliness of his interpersonal interactions, underneath it all there was something distant about almost all of his relationships. For starters, even though he knew practically everything about everyone, no one knew anything about him. Also, there was something very strange, that only people like isa picked up on, about his interest in other people. Not that his interest was superficial or disingenuine but there was something oddly selfish about it. So it’s fair to say, with winfry and isa out of the picture, jacob martin’s social appetite, which was normally famished, was now starved.

It was too bad they hadn’t been able to stay. isa. She was something entirely else. How did winfry get so lucky? Not that he would consider marrying her – a family wouldn’t suit him at all – but a nice affair… Yes, an affair. It would have been so pleasantly dramatic. But that reality was lost. Gone for good. So why all the nostalgia? It wasn’t helping and he had plans to carry out. And why was he feeling things in the first place. He rarely really, really felt things. He didn’t feel emotions, he knew them. He needed to snap out of it!

The phone rang, startling him out of his blue funk.

“jacob, jacob, are you there?” The voice came through rushed and nervous.

“Yes, derek?”

“Thank God you’re ok jacob. anne and daniela just got arrested. They were waiting for them to enter the office. marques was telling me but then he started screaming and the line went dead… They knew we were coming, jacob, they knew it! There’s a snitch in the resistance. Who knows how much they know. What’s going to happen to us, jacob? What are we going to do?”

“Nothing,” jacob’s voice was dry as chalk, “we’re not going to do anything derek.”

“What?”

“This was all part of the plan. I suspect they are coming for you now. In fact, I’m surprised they aren’t there y..”

A scream interrupted jacob and the line went dead.

Enhanced

Peter Pidgeons opened his eyes. The ceiling was white. His mind was blank. He didn’t know where he was… and he wasn’t sure what the last thing he remembered was. “Thank God, you’re awake,” said Jessica Bangs, stepping into his line of sight and peering over his face. Her expression was serious.

“Jessica,” groaned Peter. “What—Where am I?” he said, trying to rise but instantly feeling a sharp pain shoot across his chest.

“Here,” said Jessica, placing a hand behind Peter’s back and helping him up into a seating position.

“Thanks,” said Peter, clutching his chest. Jessica placed a pillow between Peter’s back and the bed frame.

“There, lean back,” she said. Peter obeyed, slowly reclining into the pillow. “Try not to tense up. And don’t touch your chest.”

“Where am I?” Peter repeated.

“In a hospital, in Econometric Elation. You’re lucky to be alive, Peter.”

“But what—what happened?”

Jessica furrowed her brow slightly. Peter could tell she was greatly relieved to see him awake and well—but there was also something else on her mind. Something that was bothering her and clearly overriding her relief over seeing him OK. “There was an accident during your procedure,” Jessica said. “There was an explosion—and then a fire. The Physiological Engineering and Improvement Station collapsed.”

“What?!” gasped Peter. “But how?”

“We don’t know yet,” said Jessica. Then she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a spoon, “But this was in between your chest and your suit.” Peter’s face blanched. Jessica was holding the quilaire with her bare hands. “Do you remember why you were carrying this, Peter?”

Peter’s shock at seeing Jessica holding the quilaire was quickly overcome by his sensing an accusatory tone in her voice. He felt a wave of anger coming from her body… anger because Peter had clearly been an idiot for bringing a metal spoon into the magnetically powered machine where his procedure was to take place. “I’m—I can’t—” Peter tried to collect his memories, “I can’t remember why I would… I can’t even remember climbing into the machine…” Peter looked down guiltily at his hands. He wanted to tell Jessica right away that she should release the quilaire before it had an effect on her—but he was simultaneously feeling unusually burdened by her stare. He looked up into her face again, only to feel a rush of annoyance and judgment shooting from her eyes, tinged ever-so-slightly by an unsuccessful desire on her part to be sympathetic. “Could you stop looking at me like that?!” Peter shouted, looking away. “It’s not like I meant to bring that spoon into the testing room! I don’t even know how it got in my suit!”

Jessica’s eyes widened in surprise. “Peter,” she said soothingly. Peter knew she was only using that voice to counteract his distress. “Relax, I’m not accusing you of anything.”

“You don’t mean to accuse me,” Peter snapped. “But you think I’m an idiot for bringing that spoon in! You think I was negligent, and you’re wondering how a Foggistani soldier of my rank could commit such a careless mistake!” He was feeling agitated. Emotional. Angry. He wasn’t even concerned about the quilaire anymore—he was concerned about what Jessica thought of him. But when did he start caring about what people thought of him? Why did the look on Jessica’s face upset him so? What the hell was wrong with him?

At first, Jessica was stunned by the accuracy of Peter’s statement. But he wasn’t a psychic. How could he…? Jessica searched Peter’s face, trying to lock eyes with him, but he wouldn’t look at her. She was trying to understand why he had become upset so suddenly—how he had read her expression so accurately—and then it all clunked into place. “Peter! Close your eyes!” she said.

“What?” Peter said, irritated and still looking away from her.

“Close your eyes!” she repeated. Peter obeyed, overwhelmed by the urgency in her voice. The moment his eyelids closed, he felt his emotions relax.

“Whoa…” he said.

“Keep them closed,” Jessica said, straining to keep her voice steady, flat.

“They’re closed,” Peter snapped, “No need to freak out.”

“I’m not freaking—” Jessica cut herself short. She didn’t think she was freaking out, but to Peter, even the slightest hint of emotion in her voice was magnified. The human perception enhancement procedure had been a success. “Peter,” Jessica said.

“…Yes?” Peter turned his head in her direction, his eyes still closed. Now her voice sounded eager… like she was about to reveal something.

“What you’re feeling right now… I believe it is a consequence of the procedure…”

Peter opened his eyes. Jessica’s expression was far easier to tolerate now. “The procedure? But I thought there was an explosion.”

“I thought the explosion had interrupted everything too. But… it seems to have worked. You’re feeling it all, right? My facial expressions… my voice…” Peter nodded. Jessica smiled. She would have to work very hard now not to betray what she was thinking. “Splendid. Based on your conduct just now, you seem to have taken to the enhancement a bit more strongly than most—compared to the initial conduct of past test subjects… But you’ll be fine. I’m sorry to have upset you by making you feel I was accusing you for the accident at the Station. Yes, taking a spoon with you into the enhancement pod was negligent, and the spoon did injure you. But clearly you didn’t mean any harm. The Psychic in me can see that.” Peter now felt Jessica’s voice to be almost entirely artificial, though not untruthful. “In any case, now that I know the procedure was a success, we will begin the training phase as soon as you’re feeling better. We will teach you how to handle your ability and apply it to your profession.”

Peter frowned. “Can I have the spoon back?”

Jessica looked down at the spoon she was holding in her left hand. “Of course,” she said, placing it on Peter’s nightstand. Peter looked at it, carefully. Something didn’t seem right. “Now, just so I can give a report of your account to my superiors, are you sure—”

“Listen,” said Peter, perturbed by Jessica’s continued use of an unnaturally flat and formal tone. Beneath it all, he could sense a hint of excitement, and impatience. Excitement, because the enhancement had worked so well. Impatience, because she still didn’t understand why Peter had carried a spoon into the enhancement machine. “I took that spoon to the Station, yes. But it was never my intention to bring it into the testing area. Call me childish, but—that spoon is a sort of good luck charm to me. Now, knowing myself, I would have placed that spoon in my locker along with all my other belongings just before the procedure. I would never have consciously placed it inside my body suit—especially when the suit doesn’t even have pockets.”

“But that is what you did,” said Jessica, calmly. “It was in between your suit and your chest, Peter. It seared an imprint on your skin.”    

“Then I was negligent, Jessica,” Peter said finally. It was better to come off as an idiot and protect the quilaire, then to try and explain how a magical spoon somehow hypnotized him into carrying it into the enhancement pod.

“Fair enough,” said Jessica. Peter could tell she was still annoyed, but the seriousness in his tone seemed to have restored her faith in his good judgment. It had been a mishap, that was all. And now, Peter thought, she was going to put him at ease. “Now, I’ve run plenty of perception enhancement tests before, and even a piece of metal larger than this spoon would be incapable of causing the explosion that I witnessed. So rest at ease; this spoon is not the culprit.”

“OK,” said Peter. “But you’re speaking of the explosion as if it originated… in the testing room?”

“It did,” said Jessica. “It originated around your enhancement pod. Which is why I find it incredible that you are alive, and virtually unscathed. Your pod was wrapped in flames, Peter. And yes, the magnetism somehow caused the spoon to cling to your body and leave a pretty bad burn,” Peter looked down at his heavily bandaged chest, beginning to wish he could actually see the damage, “But clearly something else caused the explosion, and clearly something else protected you from the fire. Now, just in case it was the interaction of the pod’s magnetism with your spoon, I ran a few tests on the spoon while you were out.” 

Peter gulped. “And?”

“I found nothing.”

Peter cocked his head, surprised. “Nothing?”

“Nothing. Just an ordinary, aluminum teaspoon.”

“Aluminum?” Peter was incredulous, though he could perceive Jessica wasn’t lying.

“Did you think it was made of something else?” 

Peter shook his head. He could sense that his surprised reaction had just awakened in Jessica a slight degree of suspicion. He looked at the spoon on the nightstand. It was dull, lifeless—ordinary. “It’s just—given what you’re saying, I would’ve expected it to be something more than aluminum. But I guess not.” Peter glanced at Jessica. Her suspicion had been removed. “So… so you don’t know how I survived the explosion?”

“No Peter… it truly is a miracle.” Peter knew she believed it. “After the explosion, everyone fled the building as fast as they could. Luckily, no one was in the enhancement pod chamber when it happened—no one except you, that is. And the flames spread so quickly—we were sure you were lost. We gave you up for dead!”

“So how... how did I get out?”

Jessica looked at Peter quizzically. “Well,” she said, amused. “I guess you don’t remember walking out of there all on your own.”

At this point Peter received mixed signals from Jessica. Was she pleased, surprised, kidding, lying? “I walked out?”

“I don’t see how it could have been any other way. Like I said, we all assumed you were killed in the blast. No one rushed in to save you, I’m sorry to say…” here Peter picked up on her awkward sense of guilt. “But the firefighters found you unconscious behind the building, just minutes before its collapse. You seem to have escaped through the kitchens, then passed out from all the fumes as soon as you reached the alleyway. You weren’t hurt, not even singed—you just had the spoon burned onto your chest, which was presumably caused by the magnetism, not the flames. And that was all.” 

Peter stared straight at the wall, speechless. He knew the quilaire had done something—and he also knew the spoon sitting on his nightstand was not the quilaire. Jessica took his hand and pressed it gently, “It’s good to see you’re OK,” she said softly. At that point Peter sensed her feelings of affection. Genuine feelings of affection. And though he tried, he could detect no trace of deceit in Jessica’s voice. But if she didn’t steal the quilaire, who did?

“I think I’ll rest a bit now,” Peter said flatly, closing his eyes. All this enhanced perception was giving him a headache.

“You do that,” said Jessica, sweetly. She pressed his hand one more time, then stepped quietly out into the hallway. She walked to the ladies’ room, opened her phone, and dialed a number. 

“Hello. Yes, this is Jessica Bangs. I need you to call Latvia Starr. Yes. I need you to call her, and inform her that Peter Pidgeons, her significant other, is dead.”

The Monolith

Lithuania awoke to the sensation of a wet sponge mopping her forehead. Her sight was bleary at first—but then a man’s face came into focus. He was holding her in his arms, wiping the dry blood from a gash on her forehead. “Hey there,” he whispered as Lithuania looked at his face.

“Marco?” she smiled, pleased and aloof for a few seconds.

The hand with the sponge stopped mopping her. “No Lithuania. It’s Felix.”

Suddenly Lithuania recalled everything that had just happened. She stiffened, “Oh crap,” she said, pushing Felix away and sitting up. She looked around. “Where are we?”

“Shhh, Lithuania it’s OK,” Felix reassured her, taking her arm. “We’re in the dungeons. You’ve been here before.”

Lithuania looked down. She was on a cot, in one of the cells, with Felix by her side. “Timoteo?”

“I’m over here,” she heard him say, his dull bass emerging from a cell not far away. “Alive and captured as ever.”

Lithuania’s hand instinctively flew to the wound Felix was nursing. “No no, don’t touch,” he said, pulling her hand down and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I just disinfected it, don’t go getting it dirty again.”

“Felix, I saw Marco!” Lithuania said, her voice shaking, her eyes large. “I saw him! I—I was somewhere else!”

Felix’s eyes darkened. “Yeah, I noticed. That was one freaky magic show you pulled off back there. You sure you feeling OK?”

Lithuania frowned. “What was that thing?”

Felix sighed, rising to his feet. “That thing is what we’ve come to call the Monolith. Unmovable, unbreakable, unkillable. Believe me, my men and I have tried—and we didn’t all live to tell the tale.”

“Where—where are your men now?”

“Did you forget? They're a kilometer down the tunnels. I was going to take you as soon as you finished questioning Timoteo, but… In any case, the path in their direction is still standing, so we’ll go as soon as I know you’re OK.”

“I’m OK,” Lithuania said, attempting to stand, then feeling the world around her spin.

“Whoa, take it easy there.” Felix took a hold of her arm and helped her lie back down on the cot. “You’re not looking too good just yet.”

Lithuania grunted, annoyed. Her head was pounding. “So this Monolith,” she said, “What is it?”

“It’s a creature unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. I’m assuming it arrived at Luscious Locks after the psychic attack… though I don’t know how, or on what. It sure as hell isn’t Coralendian though, no doubts there. Did you see it?”

“It trumpets,” Lithuania said, “Like an elephant… but…” she tried to recall its appearance, but found it difficult. She didn’t understand why though… She had looked straight at it.

“You can’t remember what it looks like, can you?” Felix smiled. Lithuania looked at him, perplexed. “Nobody can, Lithuania,” Felix said, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance as he paced around the cell. “Nobody can.”

“But how is that possible?” Lithuania asked, attempting to sit up again.

“Ah!” snapped Felix, placing his hand on Lithuania’s shoulder and pushing her gently back down. “Take it easy. We don’t know why we can’t remember it. We just know no one can. We attacked it once, and have heard it several times, and the one time we attacked it—we all saw it. But afterwards, no one could remember what it looked like.”

Lithuania stared up at the ceiling, her hands crossed over her stomach. “Well that makes planning an attack kind of difficult.”

“Yeah, it does,” said Felix, taking a seat on a three-legged stool next to Lithuania’s cot.

“Why’d you attack it?”

Felix was about to respond, before pausing and clearly reconsidering what he was about to say. “The first time I heard it was one day after my troop and I landed in the capital, Green City. Communication was cut off and the black storm clouds swept over the sky the moment we landed… as if AssMachenstan had been waiting for us to land, just so they could trap us here. We found the city vacant… Completely desolate… And then we heard it. It was just a trumpeting in the distance at first… curious, but not threatening. We ignored it, and proceeded to search through the city for survivors.”

“Your troop,” Lithuania said, “Wasn’t it led by General Jack Jillian? A psychic?”

Felix winced almost imperceptibly at the name. “Yes. A psychic. But he became as good as the rest of us once he set foot here. His powers were as jammed as our radio signals.”

“Are you serious?”

Felix nodded. “General Jillian could pick up no signs of life in the city—but he also couldn’t pick up any of our thoughts, no matter how hard he tried. So we had to hunt for survivors the old fashioned way. A few of us were sent to these outposts—these concrete towers, where we discovered the tunnels. And then, just a few days before you arrived, the creature grew restless. It was stomping everywhere, making the tunnels and concrete towers shake, filling the men with terror. But that’s not all. Apparently, the louder the creature grew, and the closer it came, the more General Jillian’s powers returned.” Lithuania narrowed her eyes. “I’m serious. He was picking up no brainwaves whatsoever—but then the Monolith began trumpeting and romping around above ground, and suddenly he could hear all our thoughts. All our thoughts.”

“You mean he could read more than he normally could?”

Felix nodded. “It was like the guy was on overdrive. It was incredible. And those blue specks of light you saw chasing after you back there?” Felix gestured back toward the collapsed tunnels with his thumb. “They chased him too, every time the Monolith showed up.”

Lithuania sat up again, and this time Felix let her. “But magic? Really?”

“Hey, call it ‘science we don’t yet understand’ if you like. All I know is, I saw it. I saw those blue specks rush toward the General’s head every time the Monolith trumpeted. And last night, I saw those specks flood your entire body—right before you vanished.”

Lithuania stared at the wall, trying to put two and two together. “But I’m not—I’m not a psychic. Or anything else for that matter. ”

“Well you sure as hell are something, my dear,” said Felix matter-of-factly. “Because last night magic was all around you.” Felix looked at Lithuania carefully. Her face expressed utter bewilderment, but Felix sensed that she was faking it. He knew she was hiding something from him—there was no way she could be magical and not know it. “In any case,” he continued, “The Monolith activated General Jillian’s powers every time. So we decided to pursue it, and capture it. We figured, if it could boost Jillian’s psychic ability when nearby, maybe it was taking his psychic ability every time it went away. We even thought the creature might be responsible for our communications being jammed.”

“Well was it?”

“We never found out. But I don’t think so. Our radios aren’t affected by the monster’s proximity. We’ve tested that.”

“So what happened with General Jillian?”

Felix hesitated. “Well... eventually we sighted the monster and launched an attack led by General Jillian. But…” Felix’s face darkened. “Jillian was the first man the monster killed.”

“He’s dead?” Lithuania gasped.

Felix nodded. “Our weapons… did nothing. And it was like—it was like the Monolith knew Jillian was the leader. I mean, maybe it was because tiny blue specks were gravitating towards his head, I dunno—but in any case, the monster charged straight at him the moment it saw him.” Felix paused. “One moment he was there, shooting at the monster’s face, or where I remember his face to be… and the next moment, he was gone. Obliterated, entirely.”

“His body…?”

“Was a mess,” Felix said coldly. “A complete mess…”

Lithuania stared at Felix’s face, shocked. “I’m… I’m so sorry… He was your General… I can’t imagine how—”

“That was when his men became my men, Lithuania” Felix said stiffly, rising from the stool and wrapping his hands around the metal bars of the cell. Lithuania clutched at her head, feeling stupid. She should’ve known the moment Felix addressed the other soldiers as “his men” that his general had passed away… she had known Felix hadn’t entered Luscious Locks as the troop’s leader… why hadn’t she put the pieces together?

“So, you feeling better?” Felix asked, turning back to face Lithuania.

Lithuania gave him a fleeting glance. “Yeah, I think so,” she said, rising. This time she kept her balance.

“Yo Prince!” Felix bellowed. A few cells down, Timoteo grunted in response. “Get ready. We’re moving on down over to the next tower.”

Timoteo closed his fist, extinguishing the swirl of blue lights he had secretly been spinning in his palm. “Great,” he said flatly. “I can hardly wait.”