The Reflections

winfry and isa had been in their cell for several days and it didn't seem like they would be let out any time soon. Sergeant Sombrero had visited them a few times but he wasn't able, or willing, to answer their questions. He said they would have to wait until he received further orders from his superiors. Sombrero seemed to be a few steps away from being a complete jerk, but a strand of compassion (or maybe it was his full face) saved his personality. Too bad he was completely useless. Just like their “librem” and “quilaire”

winfry had kept them entertained by telling stories from his past and his myth. isa loved his stories. And winfry loved that isa loved his stories. But after about a week of captivation, isa began to worry. Were they ever going to be let out? Why were they even locked up in the first place? If they didn’t get any citrus fruit it would only be a matter of weeks until they got scurvy. And what if there were rats in the prison? How was she going to deal with her upcoming period? And there was only so much comforting winfry could do. They needed to get out.

So winfry and isa began to scheme up an escape plan. It involved hording the prison soap, stealing two forks, a scantily clad isa and excessive heroics and cleverness from winfry. That plan flew out the window during the Assmachestani strike.

“You two. Get your things together. We need to move to the next tower.”

“But wh”

“Don’t ask questions. We don’t have time. Just get ready. Now.”

But that response just made them wonder all the more about what was going on that would make them have to move so quickly and the guard so nervous. And with their vivid imaginations, winfry and isa were having a series of waking nightmares as the guard led them down the hallway of the prison and to the entrance of the tunnels that lead to the other towers. They could hear the muffle of shouted orders from the floors above and every third minute it seemed they felt a slight tremor go through the building. Whatever it was, was trouble, at least for the Foggistani force.

winfry knew what to do.

After they strapped on their bags, the guard handcuffed the couple. But that wasn’t a problem for winfry. By the time they reached the tunnel to the other tower, winfry had picked the lock. (winfry had learned how to pick locks while living with a host family in Economic Elation. The patriarch of the family was the leader of the Slits hackers’ gang. In addition to teaching him about Elatian culture, the family taught him to pick locks and other tricks of the trade. It was definitely a good way to spend the first semester of his 3rd year of university.)

But even with the handcuffs off, winfry still need a few more tricks up his sleeve. The guard was still armed and still considerable bigger than winfry.

“isa” The guard had finally let winfry get close enough to whisper to isa.

“What?”

“Trip the next time you feel a tremor and don’t get up.”

“What?”

“Just do it. Trust me.”

isa wasn’t sure what winfry was up too and she would normally demand a much fuller description of the plan but the next tremor didn’t give her enough time to think about it. She let her legs twist as the ground shook and she plummeted to the ground.

“Get up.”

isa dutifully tried to get up but then collapsed with a shriek of pain. isa turned out to be quite an actress. Too bad she never tried out for any plays.

“We need to keep going. You need to get up.”

isa tried to lift herself and managed to struggle to her knees. But that was it. “I can’t do it. It hurts too much.”

“We have to get to the next tower before… We have to get to the next tower. Here, I’ll carry you.”

But as he went to pick her up, he lurched forward because his feet were handcuffed together. Before the guard crushed isa, winfry pushed him aside and kick out the rifle as he land with his hands bracing his fall. Before the guard could figure out why he was on the ground, winfry pulled isa to her feet, scooped up the rifle and dashed off down the hallway towards the next tower.

The first part of the plan had worked but it was a desperate move. winfry was counting on the rest of the Foggistani forces being too occupied with whatever was causing the tremors to respond to the guards inevitable calls for help. And winfry was counting on an emergency exit at the middle of the tunnel just like the one he had noticed on their trip through the last tunnel. And he was counting on whatever was causing the tremors to be a good ways away from the emergency exit if it even existed. At least now they had a Foggistani AQ rifle.

The emergency exit checked out. It opened in the hollow created by the roots of one of the wood’s gigantic trees. They hid in the roots until they were absolutely sure they were alone, or as alone as you could be in the woods and then the set out.

“Oh winfry, how did you get your handcuffs around his feet? That was so clever of you. And how did you know where that exit would be? You are so” …

They had escaped. Now they had to figure out what to do. It would be a lot more difficult to help Lithuania now. And of course that’s what they still had to do. But how?

To the Rescue

The lack of expression on Latvia’s face frightened Lithuania and Estonia. Either the news of Peter’s death had short-circuited a fuse inside her head, or she just didn’t know how to react.

“Latvia,” began Estonia.

Latvia shook her head. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of that book?” she crossed her arms. “What is that book, anyway? You haven’t explained that Winfry.” As she said this, Latvia felt she already knew the answer. Whatever kind of book it was, it was probably just like her mother’s book.

“Latvia. This book is never wrong,” said Winfry. “I don’t understand where its messages come from, or why they come when they do, but… everything it’s told me so far is either true… or some sort of pun. But this isn’t a pun.”

“How would Peter be dead?” Latvia said, rising. Pacing. “He was on his way to Econometric Elation. He wasn’t on his way to space. He was in no danger whatsoever. How would he die?”

“I…”

“Can you ask your book that? How he died?” Latvia was now standing over Winfry, threatening.

Winfry whipped out his pen and wrote: how? 

The librem responded immediately. Explosion. Physiological Engineering and Improvement Station. Quilaire lost.

Latvia looked at Winfry wide-eyed. How did the book know she had given Peter the quilaire? She hadn’t even told Lithuania or Estonia about that. And why would there be an explosion… Did this mean…?

Latvia smacked the librem out of Winfry’s hands, sending it flying to the other end of the living room. Her eyes were crazed. Then the book flipped open on its own, and more ink turned magically into text. 10am, 12/43/10609, PENIS.

“Why the HELL would it bother giving me the exact date and time now!” roared Latvia.

Lithuania looked at Latvia sympathetically. Estonia rose to give her a hug, but Latvia refused. “We could have stopped it, Estonia!” she cried. “We could have teleported there and saved him—or—”

Timoteo looked at Latvia carefully.

Latvia suddenly seemed struck by an idea. She glanced at the librem, then at Timoteo. “Timoteo,” she said, staring fiercely at him. “I need you to focus my magic.”

“What?” said Felix, Lithuania and Estonia at once.

“Please,” said Latvia frantically, approaching Timoteo and clasping his fists. “You have to focus my energy. Boost me up or whatever. Estonia too. I know what I have to do. I know I can do it.”

Timoteo smiled. Had he expected this?

“Of course, Latvia,” he said with a nod.

“Latvia,” said Estonia, concerned. “What the hell are you—”

“Trust me Estonia. Mom told me we’d only get more powerful. And I think I know what that means.”

“What?”

“Space,” said Latvia, pointing at Estonia. “Infinity,” she said, pointing at Lithuania. “And Time,” she pointed at herself. “Lithuania’s already traveling through worlds. You’re traveling through space. If anything, I’m behind!” She grasped Estonia’s hand. “Lithuania, we’ll be right back. Timoteo, do it.”

Timoteo smiled. Estonia looked panicked and completely confused. Latvia looked determined. Timoteo pressed his palms together like he was praying, closed his eyes, and a swirl of blue sparks started to hover around his hands. He opened his eyes. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

Latvia nodded. Timoteo opened his palms and directed them at Latvia and Estonia. The two sisters received a blast of blue light, and a second later they were gone.

They reappeared in some place bright with sunlight. Estonia’s pupils shrunk in the bright glare. Hadn’t it been nighttime just a second ago? The sisters were at the foot of a series of granite stairs that led up to a rectangular, completely unremarkable glass building. They were in the middle of a broad valley surrounded by low wooded mountains. “Latvia, where the hell did you make me take us to?” said Estonia.

A sudden explosion, and the building before them went up in flames.

“Shit!” cried Estonia, flinching at the sudden heat. “Latvia, what the—”

“We need to find Peter,” said Latvia, her voice strained. “Before it’s too late. Estonia, do that thing you did with Lithuania! Find him!”

“But I—”

“DO IT!” Estonia closed her eyes and focused. She didn’t know if she could do it again. She didn’t know if Timoteo’s power boost was as strong as the one that came from the quilaire and the mysterious marble boxes, but she’d try. She tried to shut out the sounds. The smells. The wind. The brightness of the sun. The heat from the burning building. The screams of the people escaping the flames. Shut it all out.

Silence. In the darkness of her closed eyelids, Estonia suddenly saw Peter, clear as day. “Latvia,” she said, opening her eyes and clutching Latvia’s wrist. Latvia suddenly understood Peter’s location, and vanished in a puff of blue. “Latvia!” Estonia cried. Where had she gone? Latvia couldn’t even teleport… right?

Latvia flashed back into reality inside a chamber filled with flames. She dove to the floor, overwhelmed by the heat and smoke. There was shattered and blackened glass everywhere. “Peter!” she cried. She could see his feet sticking out from what looked like a giant MRI machine enveloped in flames. She was too late. “PETER!” she screamed. She dragged herself to the machine, reached up for Peter, grabbed his ankle and closed her eyes. The world around her disappeared. In its place appeared a sort of alleyway, and she and Peter were sprawled on the ground. Another explosion. The burning building was right behind them. “Peter! Peter wake up!” Latvia cried, crawling over him and looking into his face. He was unconscious. But alive.

Then Latvia noticed a strange shape protruding through Peter’s suit, right above his chest. “What the…” Her hands shook as she pulled the zipper down the front of Peter’s odd, scuba-like dark blue suit. They had both almost just died. And how was it that Peter wasn’t burned?

The answer was on Peter’s chest: the quilaire, burned nastily onto his skin. Latvia winced as she removed it, detaching the quilaire from Peter’s severely burned skin. “He’s still inside!” someone cried from afar. Someone was coming around the building. She couldn’t be found here.

“Peter,” Latvia said tenderly, stroking Peter’s face. He would have no idea when he woke up… Quickly Latvia closed her eyes. She needed to replace the spoon with something. Whoever came looking for Peter couldn’t just find a spoon-shaped burn mark on his chest. Could they?

Latvia opened her eyes. Was she holding the quilaire with her bare hands? Yes, except now she had two spoons. The quilaire in her right hand, and an identical spoon in her left. “What the…”

“We’re going in around back! Hurry!” came men’s voices. Latvia had to leave, now. She placed the regular spoon quickly over Peter’s burn mark, zipped his suit up and disappeared on the spot, just as the firemen turned the corner and came upon Peter. “We found one!” one of them yelled.

No one noticed Latvia reappear beside Estonia amid the chaos, the frantic people, the sight of the burning station. Latvia took Estonia’s hand, and a second later they were gone. 

One Day Away

Maia Dameon

Chief Psychic Officer of the Starship Platinum

Peter had been practicing his empathic abilities for days now, ever since he arrived at the Space Disk. His perception enhancement was sharpening; he could read through lies, sense people’s emotional states from across the room—he could even tell when people were deceiving themselves. But he was still far away from being able to pick up on any presence on the surface of Styx.

Then again, that hadn’t been the enhancement’s intention. The intention had been to apply the perception enhancement to Psychics. But with the Physiological Engineering and Improvement Station destroyed, it would be some time before Foggistan had a suitable station set up for a second series of human trials. So Jagesic improvised.

He sent Peter to Starship Platinum, the nearest starship to Styx’s surface. Peter was again sent to a room isolated from all the rest, and that was where he was now. The room looked just like his pod back home: small, metallic, sparse, clean. And as Peter thought of what he would soon be doing, he looked at himself in the mirror, practicing the expression he needed to convey zero emotion. Jagesic had told him, before sending him off to Starship Platinum, that he would be linked to some of Foggistan’s greatest Psychics, so that they could make use of his new ability. He, along with the rest of the ship’s Psychics, would link to the Psychic Anchor. That way, they could channel and combine their abilities to receive signals from the surface of Styx they could all interpret.

How the Psychic Anchor worked, Peter had no idea. Space stations and starships and Psychics had never been his domain. Why he was involved in this, being the new head of the Foggistani Helo Fleet, was beyond him. Apparently Jagesic saw something in him. Something Peter wasn’t very sure he saw himself.

Peter turned away from the mirror and sat on his bed. He was getting bored. People seemed to spend an awful lot of time keeping him waiting and in the dark, rather than getting him informed and trained for whatever it was he would had to do. Most of his interactions on the Space Disk had been with an old Psychic who was familiar with Jessica Bangs, and familiar with the Perception Enhancement Project. He trained Peter to focus his perception; trained him to control his ability, rather than have his ability control him. It had been effective, but the isolation was beginning to make Peter feel more or less like a quarantined freak. If he had it pretty much under control, why was he still only being allowed limited human interaction?

Peter’s door suddenly slid open. In walked a slender woman wearing a tight black cat suit with light purple stripes down the shoulders and thighs that seemed to glow when directly in the light. Her hair was black and straight, cropped short to rest slightly under her ears, and her bangs slipped over her eyebrows just enough to accentuate her blazing violet eyes. Her facial bone structure was as perfect as any Peter had ever seen. A small, angular nose; soft cheekbones; a small, rounded chin. She was incredibly attractive, but carried an air about her that was also terrifically intimidating.

“Peter, hi,” she said. Her voice was deeper and richer than Peter had expected, with a warm buzz to it that led Peter to guess she’d make an excellent singer.

Peter rose. “Hello,” he extended his hand. The woman shook it, though something about her expression told Peter she wasn’t used to shaking hands.

“My name is Maia Dameon, Chief Psychic Officer of the Platinum. I was told you just arrived.” Her voice was easy and relaxed. Peter could tell she was the kind of girl you could have a beer and an interesting conversation with.

Peter nodded. “Yes. I arrived just under an hour ago.”

Maia smiled. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. I hear you survived quite an accident.”

Peter touched his chest where the quilaire burn mark still remained. “Yes. I still don’t know how I survived, to tell you the truth.”

Maia smiled again. “You somehow appeared outside the Station, were saved by the firemen right before the building’s collapse… I heard. But I’m glad you’re here.” She was being honest. “And you aren’t here just by chance. Could you follow me?”

Peter nodded, and Maia led him out the room and towards the Platinum’s bridge. It was the first time Peter saw so many people at once since he left Coralende. “This is the bridge,” said Maia. “There something I want to show you.” They walked past the bridge, down a corridor, down a set of metallic stairs, and into a large, vaulted chamber. It was like being on the inside of a giant, dark chrome egg. In the center of the chamber was a pill-shaped tank filled with a murky, pink fluid. “I want to show you what it is we’ll be doing.” They approached the tank. It was connected to a series of tubes and cables that came from the walls, floor and ceiling, giving it the illusion of being a giant alien bird’s nest.

“This is what we call the Anchor,” said Maia. “I’m sure you’ve been told how it works.”

Peter nodded. “I don’t know how it works. But I know what it does.”

“That’ll do. Only the engineers who designed this thing actually know how it works anyway.” She smiled again. “So, the Chief Psychic Officer, that’s me, goes in this tank. The other Psychics…” Maia smacked a button on the side of the tank, and around her and Peter arose, in a circular pattern around the main tank a series of smaller tanks filled with the same pink fluid. “Go in these. The Anchor lets us channel and combine our abilities and focus them on any one point in space—in this case, the surface of Styx. Now, what we’re going to do tomorrow is add you to the mix.”

“See, that’s what I was wondering,” said Peter. “I’m not a Psychic. So how is this supposed to work?”

“Well your enhancement has left you pretty damn close to being a Psychic. You’re similar, but different. Call yourself an artificially created branch-off species of the Psychics, if you will. We pick up on thoughts. You pick up on emotions. It’s very different, and just as useful. You could consider Psychics to pick up on the left brains, whereas you pick up on the right brains. Sort of. Does this make any sense?” Peter nodded. He rather enjoyed Maia dumbing things down for him, though he didn’t consider it necessary. “So tomorrow we populate these tanks and see what happens. We haven’t been able to pick up on thoughts coming from Styx’s surface, but emotions might be an entirely different matter.” Peter could tell Maia was excited.

“Follow me,” Maia said as she led Peter out the vaulted chamber and into a Space Viewing Deck. In the not-so-distant distance glowed Styx, the black band down its center now almost fully developed. “Whatever is going on, it’s probably happening along that black band.”

“And tomorrow we find out?” said Peter, placing his hands on the window banister.

“That’s what I hope,” said Maia, looking into Peter’s eyes. “With your help…” she placed her hand over his, “that’s what I hope.”

That night, Peter noticed the surface of Styx had rarely seemed so beautiful.

The Fail

The break in at the morgue was going well. elizabeth and nathan had buttered a way past the security and found the cell with the englewood body. Now they just had to override the computer system’s security with marquis’ hack, manually pull out the box, get the DNA sample and leave while the computer rebooted. It was easy. nathan found the lti outlet and plugged in the device. The lights went out and elizabeth screamed.

“You have an odd sense of humor, liz,” nathan chuckled, “but couldn’t someone have heard you?”

“Not with these walls and that 40 centimeter door. Only dead ears heard that. Now hurry up with that flashlight so we can leave. The smell of all this formaldehyde creeps me out.”

They managed to manually pull out the body box far enough to get a sample but they wouldn’t have to go to the gym that day. Like trying not to look at the needle when getting a shot, elizabeth focused on not focusing on the face. And then it was done. They pushed back the box and left as the system was rebooting, hiding their tracks by recording the shutdown as a mis-scheduled maintenance run.

“Sherry at the café in the franin hotel to celebrate?”

“We aren’t out yet, liz.”

“Stop being such a downer, nathan. If you continue being so up-tight, the guards will be suspicious. Relax. It’s part of the job.”

“ I guess that’s true. You always do have the strangest ways of looking at things liz."

“The guards are the least of your problems, eliza.”

elizabeth didn’t need to turn around to recognize Jacob martin; she needed to turn around to deal with martin before he dealt with her and that DNA sample.

“Don’t call me–”

Jacob pulled out a semi-automatic pistol, shot nathan in the shoulder and turned the gun on elizabeth.

“I don’t have time for all the chit-chat. This time I can’t let you get away so easy. Now you need to go. Leave nathan and the DNA and go."

elizabeth didn’t budge.

“Don’t be a hero, eliza. Just go. Now.”

elizabeth made a move towards nathan, who was thrown on the floor and bleeding his shirt through, but before she made it to him, Jacob struck her so hard with the back of his hand that she too fell to the floor.

“I said leave. Or else I will have to shoot you too and hide you in the janitor’s closet. You know I’ll do it. Leave now.”

She didn’t want to but her legs were ignoring her brain. She ran past jacob and didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Facing nathan would have been worse than facing the corpse. She had left someone behind. She had betrayed one of her closest allies. She would have a million times preferred to be the one shot and captured. This was torture. But of course it was. That was exactly what martin wanted to do, with his twisted mind.

But elizabeth didn’t really have time for all those thoughts. She had to avoid the security that was closing in on the site. Just as 3 guards rounded the corner she ducked into an open room. That was too close. She still needed to make it out of the morgue if she wanted to rescue nathan. After the guards were out of sight she sneaked to the back exit.

Security around the perimeter of the building had increased and she could her sirens arriving on the scene. She needed to get out fast.

“Excuse me sir,” elizabeth spoke frantically, “I don’t know what happened. I heard gun shots and they told me to leave as fast as possible. I’m scared.”

“Now calm down, madame. Everything’s fine. Just wait here with me.”

The guard took her away from the door to sit on the curb on sidewalk on the opposite side of the building.

“Now you’ll have to wait here until all this is cleared up. They don’t want anyone leaving the premise. It shouldn’t be too long though.”

“Oh ok. Before you leave, you don’t think you could get me any water. All this commotion has made me extremely thirsty. My mouth is so dry. I would be so grateful.”

“Ahh… well… I don’t have any water.”

“There’s a machine right inside the door. Do you think you could get me something? I have the change right here. I’m just so thirsty. Please.”

And just like most of her promotions, elizabeth would have had to work a lot harder if she weren’t so attractive. The guard eventually gave into her pleas. While he was inside getting the water, she used the trash bins to climb the concrete fence and run for it.

Only when she was miles from the morgue and close to the mobile 9 building (it wasn’t safe to go directly home) did she let herself drown in her emotions. She had gotten too cocky and it had cost her. But worse still it had cost nathan and his family. How was she going to break the news to them? That was going to be horrible. And they didn’t even get the sample. What a failure. She could feel the gravity of depression pulling her down. She knew she had to pull herself out of it but for the time she let herself indulge in self-deprecation and other useless wallowing.

She had to get nathan out. She was going to get nathan out. And while she was at it, she would rescue all the other political prisoners too. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? The prisoners might have more information about what was actually going on. Maybe they were able to piece some things together while incarcerated. She had to start planning right away. She had just jumped out of depression.

When she finally got home, she found a note that said, “Tell mrs. wishmacher that her husband has gone on an assignment and will be away for two weeks. 257 e. mahogany.” Two hours later she discovered that her toilet was clogged.

The News

The garner article was a shock. winfry and isa had discovered the underground text while reading the librem for news of nilbmah. Every once and while, they would pick up news from one of the nilbmah periodicals or a general narration of the current events. Mostly it just spewed convoluted jokes involving obscure puns that made isa sigh a lot and walk out of the room and brought winfry to throw the book across the room - underneath these displays of aggression winfry was just hiding his smiles. He secretly loved even the worst of librem's jokes. But he couldn't let isa know that. But he didn't really know why isa couldn't know. But he didn't really think about that. He just hid his laughter by biting his lip and throwing things.

Anyways, the garner article was a shock. winfry thought it was amusing at first until he glanced down and saw isa’s face. He hadn't seen her face like that since cafe luminot. The article must have hit her emotional funny bone. winfry let her finished the article. He generally read pages 7 seconds faster than isa but this time isa must have re-read it several times because it took her 7 more minutes to finish. For the next hour, isa sat silently with the sunlight slipping out of her room in the Lokton Edge of the Wood's Bed&Breakfast. winfry sat too, watching the sun go down. After the second hour her realized his normal strategy wasn't going to work this time. Usually whenever a memory from the past upset isa, winfry waited silently at her side until she was ready to release everything clogging up her aortic valve. winfry needed another strategy.

New inter-personal encounters were not winfry's strong point. He wasn't comfortable with new interactions. He lost his confidence. He had trouble

No. This was ridiculous. He knew isa to well to still be this silly. They were, you know, together, dating...

"isa, I'm sorry that article was hard for you to read." winfry was a little bit too rough when he put his hand on isa's shoulder but she didn't seem to mind. She turned her neck to look up at winfry and squeeze out a smile.

silence.

"We can take a walk if you like."

"Yes. I'd like that."

And that's how winfry and isa came to be walking after sunset by themselves in the ghost town of Lokton.

Timoteo said they should stay in the B&B at night, that it was too dangerous for them. But Timoteo said a lot of things. And they had spent a month of nights in the woods fighting demons before they found Lithuania. So they slipped out the back and into the cool night air. winfry tried to put his tweed jacket over isa's shoulders but she shrugged him off saying he was too romantic. But she was smiling. But she was probably right.

"I'm sorry I got upset. You are incredibly patient, winfry. You know that? No one else would wait that long for me. Thank you."

"Oh, that's ok. You don't have to apologize."

"It's just hard to hear that someone, no not just someone, that wretched jacob martin of all people (I always knew he was no good, no good at all) and he dug up my body, my body, to start a war and not just a war but a war for Assmachestan. And insult to the injury, the whole thing gets plastered over the press for everyone to read with the morning toast...

It was too much. Too much. Thank you for staying with me, winfry. You are too kind."

She had stopped in the middle of the abandoned street and hugged winfry.

winfry tried not to notice how isa's breast felt pressed against his chest every time she tightened the hug, but he wasn't very successful.

They turned around and walked back to the B&B no one had noticed they'd left.

"I do have one question about the garner article." They had made it back to isa's room.

"Yes, winfry what is it?"

"It said that your were supposed to have died 20 years ago but how were you able to change that in the official records? It's impressive enough how your formed your new identity using an orphan but actually changing the date of your own death, that's amazing."

And just like that isa shifted to the minor key. "I didn't change the date. That's when I died. I died 20 years ago."

"What? But that's not possible. You said... you said" winfry's eyes were rolling around his head searching for a reason.

"I never told you when I died. That night at the cafe. I never said when I died and you never asked me."

winfry had just had the rug pulled out from under him. His mind was frantic trying to make sense of everything.

Finally he said, "But you are so young. If you died 20 years ago how can you be this young?"

"I don't age, winfry. I did too good of a job coming back to life. I didn't want to it just happened."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I..." isa, in a rare moment, seemed stumped.

"Why didn't you tell me you died 20 years ago and don't age? Why would you hide that from me?"

"I... winfry... I don't know. I'm sorry. After the cafe I knew I would have to tell you but I just never found the time with the librem and running away and everything. I wanted to tell you. I'm really sorry, winfry. Really I am. "

"I just don't understand. After everything we've been through. I thought we were, you know, after everything, I thought we were..."

"You thought we were what winfry?"

"You know... umm... well, dating. I thought we were together."

"Oh"

isa, who had been locked with winfry's eyes suddenly found her shoes more interesting.

...

"winfry, I didn't realize"

Now winfry was interested in the geometry of the carpet.

"I never thought of us that way. Sure we had those weird moments in the library and nighline but that was the quilaire acting out. Right? I mean I really really like being with you, winfry. You don't know how much I enjoy being with you. You are my best friend. The best friend I've ever had. Probably will ever have. I'm sorry how all of this is coming across. I really want you to know how grateful I am for you. I can't imagine being without you. Really I can't."

"I think I should go."

Winfry turned, head down and left before isa could call him back.

Some Things Explained

“Alright, take a seat,” said Timoteo to the group. They had made shelter in the lobby of an abandoned bed and breakfast and lit a fire that was now crackling full blaze. The room was small, warm and cozy, and the only thing keeping it from being completely inviting was the lingering fear in everyone’s minds of something unexpected creeping in the shadows of Lokton. Felix had sent his four soldiers to guard the main entrance and windows, and remained himself standing in the living room, rifle at the ready, as Timoteo sat and began his explanation.

“Now, before I start,” he said, “I just want to remind you all that there is only so much I can tell you, for reasons you will soon discover. Also, don’t assume I know the answers to any questions I happen to leave unanswered; some things I know, most things I don’t, and some things I’m not meant to say. Are we clear?” Everyone nodded. “OK. So, first things first: what I’m supposed to tell you, at this point in time.

“As I told you before, I willingly passed up the throne. I disappeared from LusciousLocks shortly after my decision. Why? I told you some of that too. I felt an influence in my family, which slowly crept into LusciousLockian politics—and it wasn’t an influence I was open to. It started with the Visitors. Tall men, wrapped in dark cloaks, with tan, almost reddish skin. When they approached Coralendian airspace they asked for sanctuary in LusciousLockian territory. We are a hospitable people, so of course we conceded.

“The Visitors brought gifts that pleased my parents. Gifts that suggested they were well-versed in the magical craft, which, as you know, is poorly understood here in Coralende. Pens that wrote your thoughts. Magical books that could be used to communicate thoughts to your past self at precise moments in time. Ropes that pinpointed exactly what you were looking for. And several spoons that intensified the magic of magical objects. We thought they might be quilaires—but quilaires were a Coralendian myth. It seemed illogical that they exist in a foreign race. If anything, their having magical spoons was just a coincidence. Except they were unusually protective of these spoons. They showed them to my family, probably to cause an impression, but they never let anyone so much as breathe near them.”

“Were these actually quilaires?” Lithuania asked.

Timoteo frowned. “Yes. They did in fact have quilaires. We were just too incredulous at the time. And with their displays of magic, the red men began winning my family over.”

“But what did they want? Why did they come?” asked Latvia.

“I can tell you what they told us, but what they really came for… I’m still trying to figure out. They told us they were looking for a hospitable planet. They said that the planet they came from turned hostile… that it was overrun by injustice and constant war. They told us they were exiles—fled their planet because they rebelled against the authority. But they seemed kind enough. And they offered to teach us in the magical arts if we offered them permanent sanctuary.”

“How many were they?” asked Lithuania.

“Five. Only five. As you can imagine, my father was quite eager to acquire knowledge of magic. Ever since the Foggistanis came, LusciousLocks has been rather under their thumb. While we aren’t hostile towards them, we are a bit wary of their presence… and resentful of their abuses of power.” All three sisters simultaneously resisted the urge to object. “In any case, magic could be quite an asset, if we learned to harness it.  

“They told us our country was teeming with unharnessed magical potential. That it lived in the birds, in the trees, in the soil and the rocks. An overly abundant natural resource. They told us they were attracted to Coralende, and LusciousLocks in particular, because the virgin magic called to them.”

“Called to them?” said Lithuania.

“Yes. You see, they handled magic with remarkable ease. It seems they were extra sensitive to its presence, and held technology that could lead them to it from afar. Like magical radar.”  

“They told you this?” asked Latvia.

“Yes. And I believe it is true. I only possess magical powers within LusciousLocks.” Timoteo opened his palm, and a swirl of blue sparks came into being, hovering above his hand. “Take me out, and my knowledge of the craft is useless. I can’t even get a magical spark going.”

“What’s your magical ability?” Latvia asked.

Timoteo smiled. A strange expression for such a sallow face. “I focus magical energy. I concentrate it. Also, I can heal.”

Latvia furrowed her eyebrows. Healing wasn’t exactly what Latvia would’ve guessed Timoteo to do. 

“So you’re kind of like a quilaire?” asked Isa.

“Like your quilaire, maybe. Not all quilaires work the same way. And most quilaires have a host of powers, not just one.”

“So wait. What were these red men up to?” asked Winfry. “Why tell you about LusciousLocks magic and teach you how to use it?”

Timoteo’s eyes darkened as he looked to the ground. “They knew it was the ticket to win us over. And it was. They became our allies. They asked for permission to bring some more of their people. We gladly gave it. We were oblivious. Red men began migrating to LusciousLocks, more and more every year. But they never stepped outside of LusciousLocks once they came. They kept to themselves, and built the strangest huts, partially underground. They were an odd culture.”

“How long ago was this?” Estonia asked. She wasn’t sure she was buying Timoteo’s story.

“Two decades ago.”

“What?” said Lithuania. “How is that possible? How did we not find out?”

“They’re magical,” said Timoteo. “Staying hidden is easy. Not to mention, they’re extremely secretive and practice staying under the radar even in the absence of magic.”

“That’s how you managed to stay hidden so long, isn’t it?” said Latvia.

Timoteo smiled. “Yes. I picked up a thing or two from them.” He paused, as if remembering something. “Anyway, you’ve probably already figured out that these guys were AssMachenstani. They just needed to get on our good side before revealing their true identities to us.”

“So what happened? What exactly did they do to make you leave? And how does it all relate to what’s going on right now?” asked Lithuania.

“You’re too curious. I don’t know how it all relates to what’s going on right now. I would like to figure that out myself. But how it all led to my going away… well… Things turned strange.”

“Strange?”

“Strange. The conduct of the people seemed to… warp. But only with each other. When foreign ambassadors came to Green City, it was like everything was normal again. The AssMachenstani huts would sink into the ground and look like mounds of mud. You could never know they were there. And the people… every one would return to normal.”

“But how were they not normal?” Isa asked.

Timoteo bit his lower lip. The memories seemed to bother him. “We became more aggressive… Less like ourselves. Suddenly we were cutting wood again for furniture, after hundreds of years of having agreed not to do so. Normally that would have caused an outrage. Now… no one seemed to care. And then the animal sacrifices began…”

“Did you just say animal sacrifices?” said Felix. Timoteo nodded. “What is this, Pregalactic History?”

“We have always been a very open culture. The red men introduced it… they said it was necessary for the appropriate channeling of magic. From the ground to the creature. Kill the creature, you harvest the magic. And so on… They told us that the only way to extract magic from the earth was through death. And that corrupted us…”

“But you fled. You weren’t corrupted, right?” said Isa.

Timoteo’s eyes flashed. “What matters is that I fled—in time. And I've remained hidden ever since.”

“Hidden where?” asked Winfry.

Timoteo was suddenly angry. “Enough questions. I’ve told you enough. Now you know this threat is AssMachenstan. You know why they are here.”

“Not entirely,” said Estonia.

“They are harvesting the magic from LusciousLocks. And I fear they have abducted all the people to do the same. Sacrifice them like they did the animals.”

“What?” cried Lithuania. “You can’t be serious!”

Timoteo looked grim. “It is what I fear. It is why I decided to come back when I heard of what little we knew was going on here. And when Latvia walked over the central square and felt the loss of life force, I felt my fears confirmed.”

“But how does it work?” asked Lithuania. Why is LusciousLocks particularly magical? And why must they extract the magic through death? How does that make sense?”

“You ask too much. I don’t know how it works. We have a lot to figure out. And we have to figure out where to start, before AssMachenstan reveals itself to the rest of Coralende and all hell breaks loose.”

Winfry felt the librem shake in his hands. It jerked forward, flopped onto the ground and flipped open. Latvia looked at it, curious. And then, the ink letters began to form. Winfry picked it up and held it to his face, so no one else could read. These messages were for him and Isa, no one else. But the handwriting on this message was different… it wasn’t his own… and it read, “Tell Latvia Starr that Peter Pidgeons… is dead.”

The Conspira-theory

The englewood article debut as an underground pamphlet, but elizabeth needed it to be much more than that. True, the article had worked wonders within the resistance movement: it brought an almost unquestionable legitimization to the movement, which had been pelted with doubts ever since the lift of public censure and downright bombarded since discovery of Lokton. However, as an underground publication it was preaching to the choir. Ever since mr. martin and the nilbmah press began brainwashing the people and especially since the tsunami of nationalism propelled by the threat of war, underground publications lost at least 64% of their credibility. No up-standing citizen would give more attention to elizabeth’s article than to the “light of way” literature hawked about by the new way zealots in citadel square. Unfortunately all the certified publishers were just as wary of her article as the up-standing citizens.

elizabeth had almost given up on the englewood investigation after Lokton. When nilbmah first declared war on LusciousLocks, elizabeth knew the englewood death was a scam but good god did martin do a skunk’s job of covering the tracks. Everything was checking out. isabel’s land-lady had been about to file eviction for missed rent and abandonment; the library patrons spoke fondly of the youthful energy she brought to the old building and her vanilla mouse cookies that she brought on Thursdays; nosy neighbors of the englewood estate had seen a car parked in the drive one night around the time isa was said to disappear; mrs weatherwood, who had the misfortune of identifying the body, reported that even with all the horrid torture wounds and bullet holes that disfigured her body (which by the way were one million times more frightening than the post’s article made them out to be), it was clear as day that ms. englewood was the poor victim; the old nighline resident who discovered the body while hiking the woods confirmed that he had seen the woman walking with a man into the woods around the englewood estate about the time she was said to go missing. Everything held up the post’s tale of a nilbmahian librarian who took a weekend trip back to nighline only to be captured by LusciousLockian forces when she went walking in the countryside of her estate. After being tortured, she managed to escape but only after being shot three times in the back. Finally, she crawled back into nilbmah but died in the woods just outside of nighline. And then the news of Lokton broke and it really did seem like isabel englewood was the war’s first victim.
And that’s when elizabeth got dropped into a mayonnaise jar of malaise. She was only 81% sure of the resistance. She didn’t have any next steps. She let herself watch TV that wasn’t the news. She stared at her laptop screen without doing anything. Even “the reds” album didn’t pump her up. She slept in until 8:30 AM. But then she broke into jacob’s apartment.

elizabeth broke in at 1:45 PM when she was sure jacob would be at work and his cleaning lady would fail to see elizabeth slip in as she carried her flock of buckets and sprays down the stairs. The target was his personal laptop. After a week of videotaping every room in his apartment from the building across the street, it wasn’t hard to find in the hidden drawer in the desk in the den. And copying everything from his laptop onto her laptop was just as easy. marquis laven "1", the head director of scientific invention at mobile 9, had made her a computer copying device that looked like a normal lti cable connector except it had a massive tumor growing in the middle of the cable. marquis said the tumor housed programs that slipped past all of the other laptop’s security and allowed it to be copied onto the other laptop. He had invented the device specifically for the resistance and it worked like a charm. With jacob’s newborn twin laptop in her bag, elizabeth put the original back in the secret drawer and closed it just so it slide back into its hiding position. That’s where she would put the bomb. But not yet. jacob was proving too valuable at moment.

Before elizabeth left, just to be mean, she clogged his toilet and stole his can opener.

With the help of marquis, she found everything she needed and more to pull her out of the mayonnaise malaise. On the computer, labyrinthed away, were files and legal documents that elizabeth and marquis pieced together to see the two isabel englewoods: the mother and the daughter.

The original isabel died nearly 20 years ago in a car crash in nighline. Her death sent the rest of her family into a grief that literally killed them. However, unbeknownst to the rest of her family, while she was in college she had a daughter that she sent to an orphanage and named isabel englewood. And as it happens sometimes, the young isabel grew up looking almost exactly the same as her mother. elizabeth double checked jacob’s records with the orphanage’s record and the old director. Both confirmed the theory. Finally using the map of the nighline cemetery from jacob’s computer, they too found the englewoods’ graves and they found isabel’s body missing. Somehow jacob had figured all this out and used the body of the elder isabel to frame LusciousLocks.

This evidence was good enough for her underground exposé but she needed something more objective for any official publication to publish it. She needed a DNA sample from the body in the morgue to compare with the DNA samples in the two isabels’ national identification files (highly confidential files which she had access to via her brother’s political connections). All she need was a DNA sample to pull out the conspiracy from under martin and his fellows. This could change the national tide for the resistance movement. They needed the DNA.

Considering all of her other hoists, getting into the morgue shouldn’t have been difficult and everything was going smoothly. She successfully entered the building with nathan wishmacher, the leader of one of the first resistance groups to fuse with elizabeth’s following. elizabeth preferred solo missions but she would need another person to manually pull out the body box after they overrode the security system with another one of marquis’ special hacks. So nathan came too. They had just activated the hack in the computer system that controlled the body boxes and the lights went out.

1. marquis laven was one of elizabeth’s most trusted supporters. He was the first person she talk to about joining the resistance movements, but that’s a story for another day. And yes I just used a footnote. What.