The Press

jacob martin had been waiting his whole life for an opportunity like this. Maybe. At long last, he was using his paper to pull the strings of nilbmah society to shift social vibrations.

Before becoming an editor, mr. martin was an elementary school teacher for 15 years. The inevitable microcosm of an elementary classroom and the teacher’s ability to mold this mini-society fascinated jacob. Each year he would impress a new social structure on his classes. One class would embrace communal experiences with shared property and grades and fixed statuses for social well-being, another would compete fiercely for individual profit and praise, the next year would live in fear of mr. martin’s draconian rule, while three years prior, the class would exercise an almost unlimited freedom of choice. Each year, jacob observed and recorded with scientific obsession the events and attitudes of that year’s experimental society. During his summer months off, he planned his next society and compiled his findings from the previous year in a composition notebook. His fifteen black notebooks lined his nightstand bookshelf so that he could relive his early-life’s work before going to sleep each night. At long last, mr. martin was in the reigns again. This time his steed was an entire nation. This time, there was someone in the back coach telling the chauffeur where to drive.

As landers promised, mr. martin received a series of instructions on what type of articles he should publish and what type of effect they should have on the nation. Evidently, the nilbmah government, or rather landers and company, had switched tactics. While they had previously attempted to extinguish the national fervor that winfry’s myth had begun to ignite, now they requested articles to rekindle nilbmahians’ desire for greatness, articles that would elicit support from winfry’s myth. But there was a catch, a catch that caught a great majority of nilbmahians without them even realizing it. Even those that caught the catch generally ignored it and became caught up with the masses. The catch was that the nilbmah post’s recent articles jumped on the energy of winfry’s myth and steered it off its original course.

To make a long myth short, or at least shorter, winfry’s publication portrayed nilbmah in the midst of world-wide turmoil. No nation could resist getting wound up with aggression and diving into war with anyone and everyone, no nation except nilbmah. The young charismatic leader of nilbmah had a vision when he was even younger. There were three honey bee hives in idyllic meadow and frenzy soon over took two of the hives. One bee would stick its stinger in another who’d stick the first and they wound up stuck until they ripped apart as they ripped themselves apart. When one of the bees of the first two colonies stuck a bee of the third, the citizens of the third refused to stick back and when this pair of bees broke apart on the citizen of the third wasn’t broken. In fact the stinger of the other bee remained in the bee and was adapted into a second stinger. When a bear came to ransack the hives, the double stingers of the bees of the third were able to repel the bear and their honey was saved. This vision stuck with the young leader of nilbmah and he refused to be drawn into the chaos of the rest of the world. Throughout the myth whenever other nations would seek to conquer or pillage nilbmah, the young leader would devise some cleverness to evade the threat while profiting nilbmah. During the war, the other nations’ civilizations withered from their militaries’ expense, but nilbmah’s society soared exponentially. After forty years of war, a famine over took all of Coralende and only nilbmah’s social and technological advancements were able to provide during the crisis. All nations depended on nilbmah. When the famine ended, a peace, of sorts, returned to Coralende but all nations resented nilbmah and its social and technological advancement. Sadden by their reaction, the young leader, who was young even after the war, left nilbmah to reside in disguise in the other nations where he wrote great works of literature that became crucial in the formation of their new national identities.

Brushing aside the cleverness of the young leader’s non-violent resolutions, the post’s articles pushed another path to greatness. Equivocating the two-stinger defense against the bear and other events, these articles persuaded readers that military prowess was a prerequisite for nilbmah’s greatness. Within a month, the narfalal polls showed 84.5% of the population favored the governments 400% increase in military spending and 12.3% of the population disapproved of the spending because they thought it was insufficient. Moreover, the reintroduction of the foreign section dunked journalism in a bucket of yellow paint. Finally, the mysterious anomalies in LusciousLocks and Attica hit headlines full force as further reasons to race to arms. Some reporters had even begun to suggest that LusciousLocks would be blitzing into nilbmah any day now. nilbmah was franatic.

No wonder someone must have liked jacob’s work because as time went on the instructions for his publications became less specific and jacob began to take even more liberties with the assignments. That’s when the hyper really started to escalate. And that’s when the magistrate arranged a meeting with jacob.

landers drove a blinded mr. martin to a mansion in the country hidden just outside of the citadel, left him at the doorstep and drove away. When jacob heard landers car pull out of the long drive he took off the blind fold and rang the bell glad that it was still early afternoon. No answer. Of course there would be more games but that didn’t mean jacob had to appreciate them. Don’t get him wrong; he thrived on the thrill but he looked down on the wrappings. He’d prefer the magistrate jump him while he was sleeping or turn off the power when he was the only one working late at his office. jacob found the refrigerator empty. He sat down and said matter-of-factly, “In nilbmah it is polite to serve guests a cup of tea with milk.” Ten minutes passed with jacob in the chair starring at the wall. Twenty minutes stretched on with jacob still in the chair still starring at the wall. He probably would have sat there the whole day energized by the anticipation of the magistrate’s move.

A voice that seemed to seep form the house itself shook the kitchen floor. “Few dare be so brazen with me mr. martin. In the future, I would not advise it. Don’t look up or your jugular vein will give this chair a new paint job.” From out of nowhere, jacob felt a calloused hand clench his neck and it took all his might to calm his involuntary attempts to struggle away from the tear-jerking grip. “That’s better reverence, mr. martin.”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

“Exactly. I’m glad you see my point.” The voice was no longer so eardrum pounding but it had lost none of its intensity.

The magistrate paused for a minute to let mr. martin experience his discomfort without other distractions.

“You’ve impressed me, mr. martin. That is unusual. We will soon no longer need such talent leading our newspapers and I wanted to give you your last assignment in person. In a few weeks, you must make LusciousLocks strike on nilbmah territory. That will be enough to tip the people of nilbmah. Is that understood?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t understand. When will I learn my new project?”

“Soon. For now”

A rush of high pitched painfully whinny wind interrupted the magistrate. Not even a moment later the magistrate released his grip on jacob’s neck as he raised his hands forward and muttered in a foreign chant. Black webs launched out of his fingers to wrap around the explosion that burst through the wall. jacob had dove to the ground as soon as he was released. When he finally looked up he saw the magistrate still muttering as he wrapped more and more black threads around the still raging, but contained, explosion. He then pulled on the loose strands of the web until it crushed the explosion. The rest of the house was charcoal.

Danger eliminated, the magistrate turned to jacob.

The Persecution Begins

Latvia flipped her mother’s book open. Scribbled in her mother’s handwriting on the inside of the front cover was a small note: “I gave my divinity for you.” The note vanished as soon as Latvia read it. So the book was magical, Latvia thought with a smile, as she wondered what the vanishing note might have meant. She turned to the first page, which read “Property of Alethea Swan.” Latvia traced her mother’s name with her finger. It had been some time since she had seen her mother’s handwriting… a handwriting that looked so much like her own. Latvia turned the page, and began to read…

“My dearest Latvia,

“Don’t wonder how I knew you’d be the first to read this book, and don’t expect this book to answer all the questions I left unanswered. My time with you and your sisters was limited, but it was what it was meant to be. I knew I would have to go away, and I knew I would have to leave you and your sisters at an age too young to receive my guidance. That is why I created this book, and you have found it now because you, and your sisters, can remain in the dark no longer.”

Latvia paused. Already she was wondering how her mother had timed the book’s discovery—and how she had known Latvia would be the first to find it. Had her mother actually meant for her to discover the book now? Or perhaps Latvia had chanced upon the book just a little too late—and that was why Lithuania was now lost in LusciousLocks?

Then a splash of text splattered across the page. “Don’t doubt me,” it read. A second later, it was gone. Heart racing with excitement, Latvia read on.

“The first thing you must understand is your abilities. The three of you carry the name of Starr—an illustrious name, to be sure, but entirely irrelevant when it comes to who you really are and what you can do. Your abilities were not artificially produced. They are not the product of some mistake. They are merely the result of our union.”

Latvia paused yet again. Initially, she had thought her abilities had come from the mysterious marble box she received on her birthday, almost one year ago. She and Estonia had theorized several times as to what the specks in the box might have been—reengineered blue energy particles, hyper-charged gene scramblers, even magical brain lice. They never came anywhere near to a conclusion.

Then Latvia had started wondering who the gift came from. A family friend. Whoever the family friend was, he or she knew of Latvia’s gift of foresight, because that was precisely what had been enhanced by the blue specks. Ever since she opened that box, Latvia’s visions of the future were stronger—more frequent—more accessible, and more accurate. More than once she suspected the box came from her mother. After all, her mother had told her not to worry about how her ability worked—that she would understand everything as soon as she was old enough. And now that she was without a doubt old enough, her ability was supercharged. Could the gift have come from her mother, trying to communicate with her from some far away galaxy?

“The gift you received one year ago did not change who you are. It only brought you and your sisters closer to your true identities. Even as a child, you had incredible foresight and intuition—a mere hint of your full abilities, and a part of your true self that your father and I were unable to mask. Your sisters also have abilities—abilities which, unlike your own, we managed to cover completely. This was for your safety. And that safety is now gone. You must be more cautious than ever. Already you are being observed.”

Observed? Latvia instinctively looked out the small, circular window. “As for your and your sisters’ powers, they are reflected on your Fortune Box.” Latvia beamed. She knew it. “Though I believe you already knew that. Estonia can move through space. You can see through time. And Lithuania can bend reality. You will learn more about this later. But it’s important for you to know now that your powers—particularly yours, and especially Lithuania’s—are merely developing.”

Latvia furrowed her brow. Developing? So she’d be able to know more than just the future? Would she be able to see the past? And what would happen to Lithuania? Her power was hard enough to understand as it was. Space. Time. And infinity? How did infinity relate to bending reality? At least in her vision, Latvia thought she had seen Lithuania do the same thing as Estonia: teleport.

“Now, I know you have found the quilaire. And I know you have given it to someone else. You must retrieve it as soon as you see it. Not sooner. It has already caused a disturbance someone understood. Someone has already tracked the disturbance back to you. You are in danger.” A loud thud came from the roof. Latvia looked out the window, suddenly fearful. “Think of Estonia, now.” And the book slammed shut in a swirl of blue specks. A groaning sound, and suddenly—the roof caved in.

Latvia screamed, as a dark figure came hovering through the enormous hole in the roof. Shrouded in black—wearing black gloves—and through the shadow of the figure’s hood, Latvia could just scarcely see those stale, lifeless eyes.

“NO!” she screamed, clutching her mother’s book as the figure soared at her, hand outstretched towards her neck. “Estonia!” she shrieked, and just before the being could reach her, Latvia vanished into thin air.