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?”