* Blue Horus brings ‘new wings’ to everyday communication, The Sector
* Colosso makes a 0.2% shift towards Laconica, The Plent
* Sector University's Thought-pod forms critique of the Agency’s ongoing alter manker project, Unite Verse
* Prudis Quan predicts an average shift of 0/-60/0 on hair color after Alteryear, Movies Alter Your Sector, Thoughtcode 04523 to see full entrevista on holoscreen
No, none of these. She continued Thought-scrolling until she found the Quotidian Reporter. That would be the one to report laxes or stresses on the Sector’s use of technology, the others were broader—
* Governors report no significant changes to the population. Thoughtcode 08772 for entrevista with Agent Hacker on the crime rate, stagnant at 0.003% (90% thereof contributed by the Furies, but Hacker assures us that the terrorists have finally been removed after 9 years)—hm. She briefly wondered how the proud Lucas had taken it. Had she joined, would she have made the news? A belittling thought—Population Code remains Blue notwithstanding the first portal malfunction in 14 years. Please contact your local Governor for more details—14 years? So it did happen; closing the news feed and taking off her receptor, she tossed it into the air without thinking.
“It’s Alteryear, studying for exams already?”
“What?” Eleanor blinked a few times, before seeing that Jule was holding her receptor in their hand. Jule laughed and gave it back to her. Eleanor put it back over her ear.
“No, I was just—just reading through some headlines.” She blinked a few more times as she looked around them. They were still in the same place—she’d pulled Jule and Klost to the theater company’s performance of what was now named Stones on Air—what a taciturn name, but she liked the floating stone props which were now outlined in dots of blue and green across their reflective surfaces—they hadn’t started. Klost wasn’t here yet, he was probably getting more false mindo samples—Anderi actually was studying for exams, with Layra.
“That’s new for you, isn’t it? I thought you weren’t interested in that.” Jule was sitting two seats away—saving the middle for Klost? Eleanor nodded. “I just thought about seeing what they said, so I did. Wasn’t that interesting.”
“Really. Okay, well, I myself was thinking about Quan’s prediction for Alteryear coloration. A bit wide, right? Shifts like that don’t usually happen…” They wavered off as Klost appeared at the end of the row, wielding two full plates of white marble-colored items. He cautiously maneuvered past the people sitting to their left, without spilling, and just before arriving seemed to move towards the middle seat between Eleanor and Jule; Jule was reaching out an arm for the false mindo, but then Klost sat in the seat to Eleanor’s left.
Thought message from Klost. Accept. Hey, Eleanor, is Anderi sitting there?
Eleanor noted that Klost, while balancing the plates on his knees, was unabashedly staring straight at Jule’s hair. It was Alteryear, the time to make shifts in who you were… Jule for their part was looking nonplussed.
“Hey, I wanted one,” they said.
Klost frowned. “Anderi’s sitting there, right?” He jostled Eleanor’s left arm. No, I believe that’s for Klost Louv.
Oh. Ha ha. Thanks, Eleanor. Jule was merely looking at him, half smiling. “You two can’t have all of those,” they said, and Klost rose carefully from the seat, which lowered itself back to the floor, and settled himself into the middle as it rose to meet him.
“Here, have some real mindo,” he said to no one in particular, holding one plate out to each side, and Eleanor took one, Jule as well. Eleanor was glad for the distraction. She checked the time and saw that there were two minutes left before the performance. She quickly went back to her Thoughtnote and saw that contact Governor was already there. She closed it and tossed a mindo into her mouth.
Mm, the mindo was still fake. She leaned back in her seat. She wondered if in schools in High—where high schools were called PreUniversity, and most residents went to Sector University, the premier college in the Sector and also the largest—well, maybe not counting Lowers—if in PreUniversity their auditorium seats had more adjustable settings. Here she Thought and after selecting My Seat only saw Raise/Lower [degrees].
“Pretty mindo, Klost, but not as alter as my hair,” Jule was saying, Klost agreeing. Eleanor saw the announcement in her Thought-feed just as green dots appeared over the audience’s heads, shooting green lines of light between them to form a rock canvassing the space above. Then bots came flying down the rows—bots carrying small white things in their pincers—the crowd around them exclaiming “mindo” and Klost was already newly engrossed, Jule readjusting their hair too consciously. The real thing went by too fast, though, they definitely could not obtain too many, as the bots went away to the front and disappeared behind the curtains which were pulled back, and one of the rocks with mirrors was being pulled to the center, and a student was sitting on it, with a hand stretched out to the front, towards them:
“There is a weight on my heart! But it’s made of air,” they said, and Eleanor immediately regretted coming.
11 years ago, High
“Melea knows the answer! Melea knows the answer!” my sister exclaims, waving her hands for the teachers to see, because we’re sitting at the back for having the most Alts this year in our group. I’m sitting in the back because I'm working on my Emulus inheritance theory. Mik’vael knows about it which is exactly why she is waving her hands, although of course only she knows about it, and only because she is my sister. At least one of our parents has to have Emulus inheritance also but I still do not know which, probably because after seventeen years they have chosen not to talk about it or because they are not even aware, which of course is one of the founding principles of the theory.
I need to stop watching my sister attempt in vain to get Sm. Ev’von or Mr. Fae’sen’s attention. Telot Princip, who is sitting just in front of us, turns around in their chair to face me and mimics Mik’vael’s hand motions, but unfortunately for them I am already facing ahead, resuming the theory on Thoughtnote: age 12 first started justifying everything I did: because see, Melea, you’re doing it again, just move on: age 13 continue to do so after resistance, begin thinking about means to ‘contain’.
“Yes, Telot, we see you. So you know what is, objectively, the most ideal career coming out of a High education?”
I see Mik’vael’s face showing a hilarious mixture of bewilderment and self-disappointment, because the teachers had of course ignored her hands and looked instead to Telot’s imitations of hands, which I am surprised they even saw because they were so quick, although I didn’t pay attention to them for very long. “means to ‘contain’.” Estimated I was at 7% at this time. Thoughtnote: Allocate ‘Percentage’ into new section. Knew I was at 7% by comparing awareness of the Gene change at that time with my first awareness of it at age 5.
“One that maintains a life in High, without having to descend to other levgions.”
“A good answer, Telot.” Sm. Ev’von tosses their bubble hair back, which means not doing anything to it, but that is the style of such hair among adults in our district. “Preferring to stay in the highest levgion, although of course that does not require working as a Governor, Agent, porter, what have you.”
“And architect,” Telot notes, because they like to note extraneous answers, especially popular myths. Architect is a popular myth.
“That is a myth, as you know, Telot,” Mr. Fae’sen says, crossing his arms behind his head to showcase the lack of bubbles thereof. “But I’ll honor it. Myth or not, architects designed the ‘secret structure’ of our Sector, take your own definition as you will. It’s a myth of course so you can’t actually become one, but your attempt at humor is noted. Melea, would you care to contribute, as you’re architecting yourself.” He’d noticed, I’d been only half-listening. Age 14, meets first other Scion, Valha’ya Glorae.
Sitting some feet above me, my sister smiles because she knows I was listening enough, and I do because it’s probably only in High where they make The Future You of Society an entire class.
“Agent, I suppose.” Because that’s the obvious answer.
“Aren’t they alter? Certainly the most difficult one to climb, but laudable answer, Melea. Mik’vael, what do you think?”
“I agree with my sister, of course. Scanning it objectively, an Agent is semi-law caretaker, corporate hero, and highly specialized government official in one,” she says, because she knew the answer and obtained her Alts this way. We’re still tied, though; we’re still seated in the same position away from the teachers. I’ll give it to her.
I was on Valha’ya, who is currently a university student and in our last meeting she said formed a secret group for Scion students. I’m still asking myself how she even found the other Scions while being unnoticed about it. First informs on the Gene Percentage being a ‘problem’. “That is correct, 3 Alts for you,” and the seat containing Mik’vael glows for the count. “Anyone else?” Sm. Ev’von queries of the rest of the class, who given their distinct lesser number of Alts are at least two meters closer to them than Telot, myself, and Mik’vael. It’ll be a good four minutes or so before we are next involved and because of this… ‘problem’ given the Percentage’s tendency to rise, varies per individual, when the individual ‘trains’ their trait. As opposed to merely using it as one might their human traits but actively expressing ‘more of their self’ (how Valha’ya had phrased) with the trait. The trait improves almost by itself. Age 14 stops here, I thought about this revelation a great amount, but was entering preUni and—
“Hey, hey, Melea, what’s on your Thoughtnote?” Telot asks, trying to get my attention again, I do not know why. This time Telot is trying to send me TMs, even though, while they cannot see what we are doing specifically in Thought, the teachers know when we’re on Thoughtnote, or our Thought-feeds, the school’s system, and others, and it is of course not permitted to be on Thought-feed during class and Alts are removed for it. Melea, we need you on the raider team. A sport that’s strange not because I never wanted to play it, but because I never knew why (after baseball was eliminated) the Government created this sport in replacement. Unlike the old rules of baseball which allowed for many degrees of freedom, raiding’s space for air and ground strategy is so free that it’s limited; but that’s my opinion and I’m not lowering my Alts. I shake my head at Telot who just gestures up towards my sister who, I look at her, is nodding and smiling in my direction. She reaches out in the air in front of her, as if to grab a ball; I frown. Because that would mean she was also Thought-messaging Telot unless this was a planned operation. Which would mean that I would gain surplus Alts. I smile back at both of them.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
“Mel, you’re not standing straight. You have to stand straight for these to work.”
Mik’vael smiles at me as she gently adjusts my shoulders. “Like that, sis. You can’t get out of this, you know it records the fact that you did it. What were you thinking about?”
The Alterface mirror shows the reflected face of Melea Voraëson, frowning. I remember standing here the Alteryear after Telot first asked me to join, wearing my Improvement PreUniversity 2225 Raider Levgion Tourney symbol on my flynder uniform. Back then I was smiling.
“Third year at Impro, one day in class, before I joined you and Telot Princip on the raider team.”
“Really? That's quite far back, Mel. I thought you'd be thinking about the Furies. It's only been two weeks since you left.”
I select Satisfaction and wait for the usual nothingness. “They’re not called the Furies anymore. Now they’re the Powers. And there are only six of them now.”
The ones who were purified, or those who chose to leave: Cole/Taylor, Wisteria, Zefayus, Faer, Cade, Kelit, Valha’ya, Porte, d’Voris.
The ones who remained, and those whom Jaceus recruited: Agate, Skylark, Cerise, Sterne, Jaceus, Luke.
“Powers? ‘Furies’ was better.”
“I agree, Vael. I didn’t select the name.”
“They’re not a problem on my end, right?”
“Were they ever?” I ask.
My sister frowns as if considering, but then gives my shoulders a last brush-off before returning to her own Alterface pedestal. “Our Joe did an alter on your group, didn’t he.”
Nothing has happened with my own Alterface, as expected. “The fact that I didn’t even detect an Agent among us for two years—that’s kudos to Glid, yes. Your Alts on this one,” which makes her laugh. Mik’vael adjusts her lavender, probably selecting Face—Hair—Shape—and doing something there for Alteryear.
Any further alterations? the Alterface requests, and I affirm the negative.
He thought back to meeting the highest ranked Agents from this Sector, and to entering into a brief combat with their R’aegoth; and remembering what he had been doing prior to coming here, and the person he had met thereafter—almost immediately—he remembered inciting flashes of bout with Puræ, so talented with his magic. Jaceus remembered opening the doors he’d mentally closed after coming here, doors envisioned brightwood with their motelike hue but over time attaining a translucence closer to portals… Puræ was talented, it’d certainly helped in his becoming tæhel ri, and Ila ce, even more talented, always, had some attention taken away by the people to him…
FACE BODY MIND FITNESS SATISFACTION
Mind.
“There are no birds today, Jaceus,” Ila ce told him.
He saw that, and instead thought on Puræ’s proposal from earlier. A mighty idea to wield and forbidden, but Puræ after becoming friend of the court had been asserting his Element’r identity among the Emulae Myodors as rabbar would romp amongst a flock of beyhara. He was sure Ila ce would agree.
“Puræ has an idea,” he began saying.
“He is only recently friend of the court, do you love him in that way?” she responded fluidly.
Jaceus did not blush, although he did affirm to himself that there were no deer observing as they usually did.
“No, I do not, we are just close friends, which you know. I don’t like it when you tease when you know the truth,” he said.
His sister just laughed, as if to ignore his entire last statement; but she did not ask further. She instead raised an arm in front of her and their pupils looking on did the same, left or right depending on their preference. Jaceus raised both his own, and did not look at the pupils. Ila ce was moonshot to take him on her course of demonstration for the making of food, knowing he was rather unskilled, but a royal of the Nötr was bound to the people just as they were bound to them.
This was his duty, he told himself.
Ila ce began moving her arm in the motions; one by one, the pupils followed, and the smell of the form entreated their space in the market. Today’s lesson began with prunesticks. First, the length; he understood that, and then to follow were the trailings of flute.
He felt for the substance. There. As it always was. Waiting to be grasped and felt. He touched it to his own essence, his sense of self. He united the two, and there it was, the sensation of not seeing; but feeling, of a new color in the world. The length—extending the initial pinpoint of color into a fine line, widening it. And so on—he found himself lost in the shaping.
Jaceus so conducted for a while, almost forgetting where he was and what he was doing. But he so loved the task. He opened his eyes.
He was enclosed by a thinly transparent prism. Ila ce his sister, and her pupils, were not around him. The substance—it was lost, there was now nothing between his hands, the air, it felt different, as if it had been washed out and an essential component had been removed, and as he looked further there was no marketplace but a wide and long empty path on the ground with no people, he felt something rather tickling and strange from the container he was in and saw that there was an opening to one face and walked out quickly—as he turned his eyes up, to the sides, behind him, he saw no one, only large edifices of a foreign design that—that looked to be made not out of delight but something different, something worse, and there—there were no birds—
FAILURE—PINNACLE SOMA ATTAINED.
HAVE A PURE ALTERYEAR.
R’aegoth certainly had a pinnacle soma, Jaceus could not help noticing back when they had exchanged arms and elbows. His fighting style had felt… well, in form not much different from the porter Perry’s. But it had felt like a mixture rather than Perry’s cuisine. And Puræ’s—yes, as Triomphe would note, unpolished but still beautiful… he was distracted, he was thinking about people who were closed off to him. He had a new people now, of sorts… He laughed. Took a deep breath—Nhine, Jaceus, nhine. Nhine.
—and
—he closed
—the doors.
their motelike dimming… !
Sigh
Jaceus stepped off the Alterface platform, and adjusted his golden hair. It had been encroaching upon one eye. First, he would see what these magic-absent human beings really celebrated during their Alteryear; then he would gather the five others. He’d already informed Agate of their temporary place of meeting—his house—she would be coming over within the week to establish operations. Sterne, after this week, would be entering his respite from teaching, shared by the students for Alteryear. Cerise was guiding Skylark through her university’s V-library. And Lucas was saying his goodbyes to the others. Jaceus wondered, again, why Melea being Scion Emulus had declined to continue.
A name; the ‘Furies’ would have to be succeeded by another. He didn’t care much for their understanding of the mythology sourcing that name; Skylark was named after a bird. He couldn’t use many animals, most here were gone. The beyhara did have five legs, but they didn’t know that. Hmm…
Jaceus moved through the halls of his house, and absentmindedly changed the colors of the walls as he passed them.
“You see yourself reflected in me,” said Clo. Her (probably fake) flynder suit reflected the bent face of Hil. Hil shook their head. Our two reflections create a new self, Clo. Not yours or mine, but someone else's.
Eleanor was getting distracted. She turned her Thought-feed back to her Theories of Art reading. V Wave Artists—Select each name for more details. Pelin Forster, V-movie director notable for remaking her own films successively, and encouraging reverse viewing for the V-experience. Tule Tule, Exhibit designer, modeled their Exhibits after the ancient homes of the animal kingdom. Some Exhibits today still follow that model. Wa No Phi, receptor engineer, began the ‘Deity Line’ which primarily catered to High residents but with the Blue Horus, is now available to Plent and Might. Pelin Forster looked reasonably interesting. Pelin Forster.
Pelin Forster, productive between 2162 and 2196, shortly before the Post V Movement that began 2199 and still arcs today; after remaking the ‘Infinity Sequence’ (remake of early 21st-century adaptation of ‘Marvel’ comics, more faithful to the original events, particularly where concerned a certain entity of death) in the 2160s, launched her own path by the first Dendro, a tree-goddess who found her true roots living in the 24th century, during which Forster imagines a reunification of the Sectors and a discovery of deities such as Dendro. Dendro II, released two years later, takes place fifty years earlier with much the same events but retold for an earlier time, and so on through Dendro XIV in which Dendro communes with the playwright Shakespeare for some of his particularly prognostic lines which only became so with the early Dendro. Forster, only after the release of the final and fourteenth Dendro, before retiring from the V-screen released her recommended viewing order, which is simply the reverse, but told forward through time as the immortal Dendro ages.
Wow—alter, Eleanor thought, closing her Thoughts. She’d never heard of the Dendro sequence. Come to think of it, she hadn’t gone to a V-movie in a while, not by herself, with Tr’aedis following, maybe it was time to return—although she knew she’d have to go elsewhere for films outside of the current sequence released by the Government. Back to the performance, then, reading the artists’ details was optional for Theories of Art but more interesting than systems in Econ, or stylized verbs in Neo. She looked back towards the stage.
Hil walked towards the rock, which was held aloft—they weren’t in Sector II; it was nothing extraordinary—and the student actor walked directly into the rock. And the rock now had a hole larger than they, and the hole shone on its edges with lines of green, which became yellow and blue, which shifted into purple, and then a deep red; the two lines met and converged and silver leaves seemed to flow outwards from the porous surface.
The resulting color was a bright orange, brighter than Eleanor’s hair, which she touched but of course it was not real fire only an illusion—fire was one of the elements no longer permitted in the interior of any educational facility, at least in Plent. It probably applied to High by default—how they cherished their students.
“Fire,” Sui said, and Eleanor felt her hair burn, but it was only a sensation. She felt the orange, coalescing out of her night of memory, or was it day, the time when Nodari the Fury cast a flame at her and she had done nothing to avoid it. A circle of flame, a shape of orange just outside her sight as she thought deeper, and extinguished it. Thoughtframe School—Theories of Art—Reading. Pelin Forster, director of remakes of her own movies. Dendro, I through XIV. A goddess of the trees who talked to Shakespeare. Tr’aedis would have liked those movies.
“Eleanor! Wha—your hair! It’s—Eleanor, your hair is burning!”
Klost—Eleanor touched her hair again, and felt something hot and warm, and she looked down at the tips and they were glaring bright as the rock. But of course she was immune and she knew that from the days of the dragons. Mr. Tupil would hold her high, reaching for the skylights. Her hair didn’t burn. It never did. Maybe just a little bit—only a little, tinges, the day her house had burned and it had not been her fault. Eleanor felt a bit warmer now. She remembered the bright orange of the servant John’s cloak every time she visited. She remembered then sitting in the front row of Bellish Mediary and being the first to clap to Tr’aedis’s performance of Mindolet and it was really, really good—she was only in mediary and looking back to that event, with Tr’aedis laughing and sweeping his costumed cloak behind him with each bow he fully deserved the comparisons to Charles Restor. He was a good actor. Although how she could tell, when she was only in mediary, it could not mean anything of significance, and she leaned back in her seat and her hair was cooling. There was nothing burning.
Klost was looking surprised, and confused; and Eleanor was not looking at the stage; she was looking at the person on the stage who had now departed from the rock, and its color was fading. Orange back to blue. She placed the waft of hair, colored the orange of dusk, onto the now-empty plate.