Destiny? I will tell you this.

When you’re immortal, then destiny may exist.

– Render

Scene 1

––his first feeling was wetness, on his feet, through his soles.

––his second feeling was cobalt, in what he saw through the transparent portal walls.

––his third feeling was surprise, for there were no portal walls. Tr’aedis realized he wasn’t in a portal anymore.

Those golden shapes, which he’d seen briefly as wings, had flashed before his vision in an instant, either that or his Thought-feed, with the sensation of wind, causing him to think of the sound of curtains closing, and a touch of light. But now he saw that he was standing on a blue plain, and as he looked down at his feet saw that there was a shallow liquid surface, and as he took some steps with his feet, felt that the ground was smooth, and it was reflective. He saw himself in the floor, through the water.

The image rippled slightly, as if touched from afar. Tr'aedis looked ahead to the horizon and saw four figures. They were standing, and he couldn't make out what they were doing but it was giving the water form, and color, and movement. He could not put into words how he gained that sensation. But it was the sense he received.

Tr’aedis shook his head. For some reason he felt that he had to approach the four figures. To see if he recognized them. So he walked, splashing with his feet––or so he expected––rather, his shoes plunged through the hand-depth of water without making a sound, even as he pushed forward.

As he walked the four figures grew in appearance. Tr’aedis soon detected that his feet did not create any ripples. He felt for his receptor, and instinctively thought for the Highpoint entryway system. His thought-feed did not spring to his mind, nor did words appear to him. The only words he heard, not in his mind but outside himself, in voices that felt familiar to him, like Charles’ Monologues but as different as the field of techistry, one he never cared for, were spoken words.

“Felot geldin min torr,”––said the first, a person who didn’t bear the official garb of Agents stationed at Highpoint. Instead, he showed from neck to knees a nearly skin-tight white fabric, which resembled geest but looked somehow even more pliable and fluid. His face, Tr’aedis knew without thinking, was purer than the best body-maintenance prescriptions could offer, and knew no blemish. He unconsciously touched his own hair, which he’d groomed with airnanos carefully that morning. It felt ragged in comparison.

“Flit? Puræ y’vard, nort, Ligaeryen nex”––said the second, who wore a similar uniform. All four were wearing it. Tr’aedis saw that they were intently pursuing an activity that involved fixing each other with their eyes, and… something else. Something else was at play as Tr’aedis took some steps back. A flicker of sun passed over the speaker’s eyes, as if they themselves were the moon in eclipse.

The third didn’t say anything, face bent towards the water. Tr’aedis saw that the ripples were flowing directly from the four’s feet, and that the third’s feet were causing the most active waves. And none of the four showed a reflection in the water.

“Geldin pletmayr frantis. Magcreat linedt”––said the fourth, and a tension visibly touched off of the three others that wasn’t there before. Tr’aedis realized that he had interrupted something. He hurriedly removed his gaze from their eyes, which felt like planets.

––He began to realize that he was not in Highpoint, let alone the first Sector,

awaiting passage to the second;

––Secondly, he felt without stretching his eyes beyond him that he was in a

contained space, with the floor both bounded by and leading into the ceiling;

––And third, he saw without acting that he was alone in this world.

Finally, he was on a mission that took him someplace nice! Might––he could breathe in not just here and there people that caught his eye, but people attractive everywhere––thank the original Makers of Alter for body-maintenance prescriptions. Thankfully there were few who chose not to prescribe, including d’Voris, although she had her Emulus-given traits, she shone in the sunlight besides him as they strolled casually through the streets. Here she wouldn’t attract too much attention, except from him––yeah, she stood out among the Furies, but she would always stand out to him, no matter where. And then. And then there was altering, fuck, blast as in––What?

––A. Full. Blooded. Emulus. Coming through their doorstep and making them think an Agent was coming, and they’d only just come back from successfully recruiting Skylark––sleek as silver! Yes! He hadn’t seen d’Voris smile to anything like that in ages––and it was as if d’Voris’ smile back at the school was an act, because it was nothing, if alter had an alter, compared to her reaction to seeing Jaceus as he named himself. And Porte stuttering his words and the Lazy Boss slipping off his chair where he’d been announcing their next missions and onto the floor in amazement. Agents, Ray-gawf or whatever your name was, you can’t do anything now, we have the 100% real thing with us, we’re gonna storm into your V-stores and rip those wanted posters of us right off the damned walls––

“Lucas, you’re thinking aloud.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Lucas stopped his reverie as they stood before what looked like a V-cuisinerie. They walked in. d’Voris headed to a V-photo of them in the bakery, and Lucas pushed in front of her with triumph to remove the thing himself. Yeah, they were standing in broad daylight but the real thing? That existed all this time? What––what in the WORLD could the real thing do? Lucas looked d’Voris right in the eyes, and she returned what may have been a smile at him. He couldn’t imagine what that was like, meeting a literal manifestation of the magic you were born with, at full capacity. “Off to the next, Vor,” he replied, as they turned and left the V-cuisinerie, turning some heads from inside the pretend kitchens from the past, but who cared, no one could stop them now and Jaceus hadn’t seen anything wrong with proceeding with the mission. “Next is a v-World store,” d’Voris said, as they headed there next, and he did after all have his receptor on him, those were allowed in Might, so he could TM Jaceus at any time if something did happen––but damn, d’Voris was beautiful today.

They entered the store. It was empty save for the lone clerk at the back, sitting behind the counter. Lucas immediately walked over to the large V-photo showing them in the bakery, with the two high schoolers included, and yanked it off with a splatt. Oh, there was also a kid, on one of the v-World platforms, sitting absolutely still. “Pretty impressive,” he noted to d’Voris, who nodded, while keeping the counter guy peripherally in check. The counter guy wasn’t even looking, and this kid was sitting with concentration, must be really enjoying his world. Lucas was almost tempted to check their mind–––you know what, it wasn’t like they could v-World back at HQ––he looked.

Anticipation. Satisfaction. Pleasure. Joy. Giddiness.

Huh. Well, it was a kid after all.

“Mister, do you want to join?”

Lucas opened his eyes––they were closed?––and saw that the kid was looking at him curiously, head turned sideways to face him. The kid’s eyes were big––quite large, with really heavy white eyebrows for what couldn’t have been more than ten. At the oldest.

“We’re okay,” d’Voris said from next to him. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

“Wait, I’m interested.”

d’Voris looked at him seriously. Her eyebrows were nice and curved, like petite silver versions of his Savores. This close, he could compare them to the kid’s, which were more like––hmm. It was hard to describe. Some movie he saw with Cade once. “I know, I know, he’s just a kid, Vor. But you can TM Jaceus.”

She nodded slowly. “I’ll be outside.”

Lucas watched her leave the store, and then turned back to the kid, who had taken off his receptor. “You’re pretty good at this! Not even having to move, while in v-World.”

The kid’s fuzzy white hair didn’t look like it was on BMP’s.

“Yay! I come here a lot. Sandy lets me play all the time.” He gestured to the back, where the store owner saw them and waved. Lucas briefly wondered if he’d be recognized, having been on the V-photo. He waved back.

“Sandy. What’s your name, young v-Worlder?” he asked, leaning against the wall. It felt like the natural thing to do. The kid turned the rest of his body now to face him, still sitting crisscrossed.

“Eric. What’s your name!” he said, kind of loudly. Almost sitting up. Lucas smiled back and allowed himself to slide down to the floor. Sitting. “Taylor.”

“Taylor. Why?” Eric asked. Tossing the receptor from palm to palm, back and forth, to and fro. Anticipation––or the fulfillment of expectation. “Why is that your name?”

“What?” He’d try using Taylor’s name, you know, it’d be cool. Taylor wouldn’t mind, of course. It was Taylor, after all. Just a name. “I like it. Didn’t find a reason to change.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Lucas asked. He’d play along. The kid looked happy to talk to him. “Taylor… I don’t know, it sounds good. Almost rhymes with, uh, Restor. You know, the famous brothers and sisters.” Didn’t even know if the kid woulda learned that in school already, just didn’t know. He certainly didn’t.

“The Restor family, of the first half of the 22nd century. Cool!”

“Smart kid.” Lucas sat back, brought his knees up, crossed his arms over them. “Do you have a favorite world?”

Eric swayed back and forth, grinning widely. Okay, it was probably the usual kid’s stuff. Knights, AIV, Smartphones (because they wouldn’t just go to Lowers), “Galápagos!” he sputtered out distinctly, almost made him call for d’Voris, this kid was so funny. The way he talked. Sounded so adult. And he thought of a snowman tossed on the sled and made to careen down the steep mountain, past the sycamore trees… He had to check again, were those his thoughts or a memory or Eric’s? Glee. Glee. Glee. Glee. Gravity. “I’m a giant turtle. And I eat lettuce. It’s so good. I chew it very slowly. Grind. Grind. Grind. Grind. Gravy!!” This kid’s weird, like that movie, what was that movie called “Giant turtles.”

“You’re right, Eric. That’s a fine world.” Damn! I saw it in Lowers with Cade. Zefayus, too. Huge white creatures. “What do you do as an adult, Luke?”

“I fight for freedom.” That extinct animal on old farms? No. Smaller. More intelligent. Not rabbits, either. “Why?” “For a good future for us.” There was a kid on the farm. He loved the sheep, that’s what they were called. He rode them, gave them all names, put real wool into his clothes and over his ears. Weird. That part wasn’t scary. “Why?” “We can’t get it now. The Government’s too strong.” CHILD MUTANT FARMER TURTLES. That was it. A remake of an extinct television series before holoscreens. They were white, with magnificent shells dotted with grey like those soft fuzzy quilts you’d receive from your grandmother for the Lowers holiday where you actually gave things to people. “Yes! That’s true!” “Do you have a favorite Agent, Eric?” Out of curiosity, Lucas used his receptor. Worldnet, SECTOR I GOVERNMENT, Agency, Listings. There they were. Highest quality clothing, looked better than anything he wore to bed, probably still stronger. There was the guy who beat him, next to a woman who looked familiar and a white-haired child. R’aegoth. The avatar of the hero rotated, showing no weapons, of course. “Why do you fight for your super powers?” “They’re not even powers. They’re our own unique traits. You can’t take that away from us.” “Why not?”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You’re good at this v-World tech, Eric. At your age, that’s really impressive. To completely separate yourself from the real world? That’s exactly the barrier they added after the v-World Revolution. Prevent the whole economy from crashing down again. You see? That’s a talent. A real gift. Could scary people, could your own Governors, just take that away from you?” “Why?”

“Why? We don’t know. They send their Agents. We do our guerrilla. Meet now and then, there’s so many of them on the listings. Some are threats. Took the Examinations myself once, as a test. Was right. The kids who take those are jokes. Top students. Masters of the latest tech. Eager to serve…” “Why?” “Why they're jokes? Felt it, Cade. Just felt it. You know that movie we saw with Zef? Child Mutant Farmer Turtles. Big fun. That was a joke. Wasn't even scary at all. Just a kid playing with sheep. Got familiar with their whole life stories, as if sheep have life stories. Those Agency yearns were getting into a farce. No traits, cropped to savor fame, purify easy targets besides us. We're the real thing. We look at the listings, keep track of who we've fought, who's a threat. I'm on a mission right now. Secret, you know, but you're just a kid. How can I expect a kid to remember the turtles he rides in v-World anyway? Not that I would, unless I named them or something. Ha ha."

“Come join me on the island! It's fun being a turtle. Your girlfriend can wait a couple minutes please?" “Yeah, yeah, sure. I just get on, send a Thought to this local store… Yeah, I'm on it. I'm on the platform. Send Thought to v-World near me––”

His view of the wall opposite, on which was hanging another V-photo of the Furies––he’d take that before he left––faded, while a child’s hard grip on his arm stayed with him and he wasn’t looking at himself anymore.

It was a woman with lavender hair. She was not d’Voris.

“Do I know you, cadet?" he asks me. I do not know him. I know no one in this cathedral space. I know my bat, my desire, my crop to cull. Hector Hector why are you here why why your previous stint was so much cooler

“No, Clay, I do not.” I visually compare my all-star bat to his sunfish prod. It is large and spiky. A silver glove.

“Hmm. Let’s see who you are.” He touches a hand to some sort of colored earpiece, curled around his left cochlea. “Robert Seed. An interesting name,” he says. “Is that wooden prod of yours your chosen Exams implement?”

“I am Revé. It is, Kernel.” His name is HECTOR not these false words you give me HECTOR that is his name not R––

“According to Bola, you are Robert. Stay in line, cadet.”

He moves on to the next dummy, and I yearn to strike. But I know my chance is coming, my chance to craze the results of my training. His crustacean sword is chance, is proof that these tests include use of our combative techniques. Kid, you have no chance if Hector is anywhere close to where he was when I left Crush it all. I’ll do it now. Won’t wait for this Bola or whatever there are far too many of us All-Stars let’s do it now, now, do what you did back there, but use your Cycles, wield the Cycles to glory and Pith enterprise. You have potential kid you do look a captain in the shades but if you knew who Hector polarization. The lines are long. So his name is Hector. I do not remember seeing his build circulated in the Agency listings but do I check? when do I ever it’s like checking the calendar for homework which for calculus I do not, I derive no pleasure from that. ‘Ultimate’ desire I pursue, and for this game to start I step out of line––

Cycle One––

Cycle Two! Hector easily parries. Not the weapon he used before, but potent for you.

I step back, begin wheeling for Cycle Three, and Hector puts a hand up, staying a slim woman with spiky red shoots of hair who approaches and looks surprised. “That’s mine,” he says. He sounds not upset, or disappointed, but slightly satisfied, as if he saw something not surreal, but saccharine.

“That’s my Whirlwind Fury technique! Watch!”

He takes his massive shellfish and starts spinning it, slowly at first, but then very quickly for its size, above his sleet of blue hair. It’s almost dizzying and only because I have not seen my own Third cycle played in front of a mirror.

“Hector? A bit early?” the woman asks, but Hector is staring at me, and I have no choice but to follow––Cycle Three––we must appear as two fans. You named it that? How ironic. How ironic, Hector. I’m tempted to leave this kid and return to you, although this is not the time, and I have my reasons for staying apart. Hector gives a smile of generation which I do not return, waiting for his stroke, which he swooshes across my right, which I meet in sukrelsh and my bat sunders. I duck quickly, avoiding his spikes which whoosh past, and the woman named Bola is there, and for some reason there is now a giant pink ribbon tied around the weapon, and Hector is frozen. “I’m so sorry, Robert, he does this sometimes. We have an order to this.” She pulls Hector back from the staring crowd, lines and lines of them, as I pant like a wandering dog and gaze at Hector with simmering intent. The more I stare at his stance which in his tall figure and lopsided technique may be hidden but I see it too it is there, a stance I recognize somehow from a day of snow. Yeah that was quite a day, the original technique plied against Him who thankfully isn’t in this scene. You know nothing, kid, if He was here, you’d be pulp long ago I’m glad I left a movie theater? or a song? No no no this doesn’t give me competition, this gives me pain, why am I seeing a tall Agent with red hair who isn’t Bola if it’s a film reel

pulling R

pulling E

pulling V

pulling E accented

and the line stops

I am in line

they tell us now

to first defeat our 7

lined midshipmen besides me

a bat that is broken,

Our stars align

which I swing light

HOT

COLD

SHINE

WOODEN

Everything everywhere all at once, I’m blinking stars into my eyes, there are seven comatose humans on the floor and Bola cannot stop Hector from seeing my scene in amazement. If R’aegoth were here, we’d be in serious trouble. But he’s not. And to use this vessel for now, it has been nine years, he is potential defined and has the dream to power within. I will take it, and manifest myself to see who Revé becomes, and get my revenge.

“Your parents are at work, right?" Falara asked as she roamed Skylark's room and stared up at the five windows, each differently shaped, on her ceiling. They all showed the sky.

“Yeah, they're at work." Skylark glanced at the door that used to connect her room to her parents'. “You sure you're good being here? Isn’t the raider team playing Blazon up in Plent?”

Her friend looked back down to earth. Falara's bright red bangs swayed. “Alter, Skylark. I'm helping you get ready for Alteryear. What could be more important?"

Skylark blushed. Falara was such a good friend. Could she really… ? She Thought for her history V-book and held it on her palm, weighing it. But Jaceus would say… Lucas had said to practice as much as she could… And Falara would forget, anyway. But then what's the point? Oh alter, if Falara could just know and understand what it was like, staying up late trying to touch the round window with her V-book, and not studying for midterms, to think about meeting adult Scions who'd been the terrorists the Government called down for burning weather towers and invalidating portals. And Glid! He was one too, while also being a student at Restor! “So, what do you want to add?" Falara asked.

Skylark looked around the room. She saw her raised bed with imitation down in a heavy warm blue quilt; a V-photo of her and Alauda, sitting on a dolphin-shaped fountain in the Lowers, where she was kicking her legs back and forth; the piece Falara had given her last Alteryear, whose purpose she’d long forgotten, though she’d at least kept it up and swirling for when her friend visited. It resembled techistry. Her desk extended from the wall, from four Alteryears ago. Her rainwater converter which almost never produced any water. The food arrival station, set into the small alcove. The container under her bed.

Skylark’s edition of Modern Era, still held in her hand. The worst that will happen to you is purification, Lucas had told her. You’re going to talk about it? Cade had responded, and d’Voris declined to comment. Skylark thanked them. Unwittingly, she thought to the container under her bed, and quickly imagined opening it. A memory flit into lines sealed each year, one layer per Alteryear…

I’m back, Sky, he said, but his wink was gone, and his hands stopped making shapes in the air.

She knew that he’d lost it, his trait, of Magy’cal which they both had.

That was the first time his hands stopped hers from making the leaves tremble on their own.

She wasn’t stupid. But the Furies were living proof that you could do it. They wouldn’t forget.

Around them, she could use her power.

She faced Falara, and Thought to her friend: This is who I truly am. Even if she forgot… she’d freeze that memory of opening up in her heart, and break free, even for a moment––! She tossed the V-book up in the air, watched its every movement.

F

O

C

U

S––and it stayed afloat. V-pages rustling, the copy of history stayed in the air. She did it. She imagined that gravity didn’t exist for a moment, that it would sit there as comfortably as it had in my hand––

Skylark!

She looked quickly at her friend but kept the book sitting still.

Falara’s eyes were sparkling wet like the dew inherited of bio terra. She was––to Skylark’s shock––crying, and not wiping her eyes with her hands. Her friend fell to the floor, and pulled at her red hair. “Magy’cal Dtaer nex lvvo min!” she said, and Skylark recognized the first word, but not the others.

Skylark’s heart shook as it shook when they took her brother away, and for almost an instant, so brief she almost thought it was the future of a memory, a blink and the essence of red shone from Falara in the shape of a human.