Nevertheless, unlike what my casual preparations might suggest, the proceeding of the festival is a bit more formal in actuality. It begins at six and we spend the first ten minutes reading from the book invocations before the event begins.

““—and as the fruits of autumn ripen with the passage of time may the seams of our coffers overflow with abundance and the lands on which we sow moisten with fertility; protected from the biting harshness of winter, besiegement of pests and scaring infliction of blight; sweetened by the tears of our work and ripened with the warmth of our hope. A week, a month, a year, forever.””

The voice of thirty million Crylans reverberates aloud in the clearing of our worship grounds as the last passage of our invocation comes to an end. I raise an alchemical wand to the sky.

“TO FERTILITY.”

““TO FERTILITY.””

“TO ABUNDANCE.”

““TO ABUNDANCE.””

“TO CRYLA!”

““TO CRYLA!!!””

It blazes aflame.

=============

In a way that has repeatedly been described to me as distinctly ritual-esque a 300-feet wide platform containing offerings crackles brightly as Crylans dressed in orange skip around in a circle holding hands and chanting rhythmically to the beat of the loud drums.

After ten minutes the music stops and we reverse our direction, taking a short break to either rehydrate or drink more alcohol to worsen that sharp burning feeling of your lungs struggling desperately to catch their breath before another round of horrible abuse from their intoxicated owner.

Most choose alcohol.

So the width of a circle rapidly decreases and they get eliminated when their distance becomes too close to the flames or loses too many Crylans to encircle the circle before it, sending it back to join the largest circle at the back and repeat.

It's like musical chairs but no one actually wins and mild burns are a frequent consequence of losing,

But don't worry,

I have thousands of golems stationed nearby as an added measure of safety, one healing balm and they'll be fine.

Before coming back an hour later since they just couldn't resist the lure of playing again, resulting in another mild burn.

As the night goes on more games are added and some popular artists perform their songs in coordination with a few fashion shows and other activities ranging from plays to comedy to musicals to competitions and even magic tricks.

Evidently at that point no one is really sober so the artists forget their lyrics, some models fall on the catwalk repeatedly as they fail to strut on stage and the comedians don't even say jokes they just laugh at the crowd and the crowd laughs back making them laugh even louder in a truly unscientific depiction of symbiosis.

The millions of Crylans unable to make the journey to our worship grounds or too young to partake in the festivities have the option to experience something similar in a neighborhood party with similar foods, a safer alchemical bonfire, identical but safer games, and equally fun shows hosted by their favorite available local artists and designers of choice.

The festival is a lovely event filled with laughter, joy, and tender companionship from our families as we make valuable memories to look back on and smile fondly about in the near future.

Eighty percent of the population is in attendance and nothing of importance usually impends on my schedule at this time so my way of partaking in the festivities is to shut down my core for a few hours and savor the mental bliss of true temporary unawareness while everyone is distracted.

I know I’ll have infinite regrets when trying to reconnect with millions of clones and security runes and struggling to reorganize my memories in the right dates and years tomorrow— but.

But.

I’ve been feeling odd lately a quick break might really help.

Yesterday night I tried to go through a few thousand letters like usual but a part of me failed to muster the care to write a personal response to their problems so I just copied and pasted an apology to every single one of them; Even the letters addressing some legitimate concerns in their work environment and offering reasonable suggestions on how to fix the problem.

I just apologized. And it wasn't even the nice type either, I wrote; 'I'm so sorry you feel that way.' to everyone.

A kid felt uncomfortable after a memory glitch left them with the unfortunate knowledge of their teacher being their former partner and had no idea how to react, so they wrote to me asking for advice.

Usually, I tried to change their learning environment then redirect them to the DPR (department of personal relations) but I just-apologized.

For nothing.

I've never done that before, it’s so bizarre.

Like the vaccine event, I eventually made it mandatory; but I’m not sure why I even encouraged something so mentally scarring to some misled second stagers and why my advisors did nothing to stop me from the beginning. Well...they did, but then I convenience them surprisingly fast. Why were they so easily persuaded? I think if they had shown more resistance I might have listened. Probably. Everyone knew the lesson I was trying to teach so what was the point of the entire debacle in the first place?

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

I can’t remember my justification for something so unkind and recently I keep making choices that have much better alternatives for no other reason than instant self-gratification.

So obviously there's something wrong with my mind.

At first, I thought it'd would go away if I just ingested more sunshine vaccine but I’ve had thirteen shots and it’s still there.

Alcohol only lasts a few minutes before the feeling comes back even worst and sometimes I forget it’s there then something that would originally emit an emotion from me occurs and I feel absolutely nothing about it at all like I'm suddenly numb to the world around me.

I notice it’s beginning to affect the rest of Cryla.

This year the rate of crime has increased by an astonishing 0.2 percent; A number that is virtually unheard of in our history and I’ve had to crush fourteen attempted murders in the time frame of thirty-four months when we usually only have one per year.

I know it’s not entirely their fault.

The state of my mind subtly influences the mood of the country so most times I try to keep my disposition positive and hopeful regardless of the actual condition of my environment. I usually push the negative thoughts away with the belief that things will eventually get better. However, it has become increasingly difficult to feel enthusiastic about the future lately and my mood has had so many unusual fluctuations it's concerning.

I have actual binders filled with plans for the future. I’ve made backup plans for those plans and even more backup plans just in case those backup plans failed to complete their purpose so I know I'm extremely excited for our future and I don't know why I sometimes feel like its all pointless.

So back in my main body, something akin to ease emerges at the feeling of the barriers weakening and a few essential golems coming to a stop as my aether slowly withdraws back into my core. My awareness of the world around me rapidly declines and the connection to my clones diminishes in a growing wave of blissful mental silence. Then I notice what's going on and panic sets in. That...had a larger effect than I expected and the banksohgoshmyeconomy—

.......

=============

Four hours later

=============

“Huh.” Tulula peers through the office window at the unmoving form of their NC lying on its face in a pile of folders.

Her parents were out for the festival and most of her friends were at the party so she thought it’d be fun to ask the neighborhood Cyl some questions from the viewers on her Livestream.

“I don’t think that's normal.” She whispers worriedly at the camera, “What should I do?” The illuminating runes on the ceiling flicker ominously and the originally warm ambiance of the room turns chilling.

Is this...a crime scene?

Thousand of replies emerge on her screen but Tulula remains shell-shocked from her guess.

Oh god.

“What if it’s dead? Oh god, what if it’s dead? Mom, mom!” She grabs the emergency crystal from her bag in panic and immediately five concerned faces appear floating above the rock.

Why are their eyes red?

“Tulula?! Are you alright?!”

“What’s the emergency, honey?”

“Did you get locked out again?”

“Where are you? it's so dark.”

“No, I gave her the key. You have your keys ri—“

“I have the key!” Tulula yells, almost hyperventilating, “Our NC is dead.” She sobs. “I came to ask some questions and the door was locked so I knocked on the windows and no one answered so I tried to peek in and it was dead but I swear it wasn’t me and I just came to ask some question and it’s not breathing or moving or blinking so I know it not asleep but it's really not my fault and-“

“What?!”

“Tulula calm down-“

“Did you try calling Igetis Cyl?”

“No.” Tulula manages through her sobs, "But it’s really not my fault I swear I didn’t kill it.” She was a good girl.

She didn’t want to die so young. Oh god.

“Honey,” Her dad sighs, “No one said you did, calm down. I’m sure it’s just asleep.”

“But it’s not breathing.” And she knew what that meant, she was a genius dammit.

“…Tulula dear,” Her first mom begins, ” You know we don’t breathe when we sleep, right?” She smiles a bit puzzledly like that was common knowledge.

No.

No, she didn’t.

“We don’t?” Tulula blubbers. “But I'm breathing right now.”

“Yes, and that's normal."

"But not when we're we're asleep, that'd be abnormal. Did you zone out in class again?”

No.

Maybe.

“Don’t worry about our NC, It’s probably fine.”

Distracted by this life changing -well, not exactly life changing just surprising- discovery, Tulula failed to hear a single word they said.

Was that why she sometimes forgot to do it? Did her lungs also fall asleep when she fell asleep? Then what about her heart? or liver? or her blood or-

“How do we-”

“No!” Her third dad interrupts. Or was it second mom? it's sometimes hard to tell, they have the same haircut. “Don’t think about it too hard, you’ll give yourself a headache.”

“Yeah honey, just remember it’s okay for your body to make no sense. It’s what makes you unique.”

“And beautiful!”

“And perfect~”

“But really, stop thinking about it.” First dad reiterates, “You know your skull is fragile, you still have that fracture from last year. ”

“Okay,” Tulula stammers. “But what about the NC? Should I call Igetis Cyl?” Would that help? Most people usually only called Igets Cyl when something weird like portals appeared on their lawn or their microwaves started talking.

“No.” Second mom waves dismissively, her gaze stuck on something outside the frame. "Carla's NC also shut down so it's probably nationwide."

“And that's, normal?”

“Of course.” Second dad reassures with a wide grin, “Every decade Igetis Cyl shuts down for a few hours. The NC loses consciousness and a bunch of things get messed up but it’s fine. Things become really good after it gets back. Like the sun becomes brighter.”

“The air feels really fresh and the flowers smell amazing.” First mom sighs dreamily, "I just wanna eat them and eat them and eat them but I can't. I know they'll taste bad."She rests her head on first dad's shoulder,"...but they smell so good."

First dad pats her back consolingly, “You’ll feel really, really good about yourself too; like you can do absolutely anything and everything in your life is going great even when it’s not.”

“And who knows, you might even get a crush on your reflection. Most kids your age do at some point so don’t worry if you do. I promise it’s completely normal. But please stop touching the mirrors, you know I hate seeing them smudged.” Third dad says, tone suddenly serious.

Which…was really weird to hear from your parents.

What.

“Oh.” Tulula squeaks out after a pause. “Okay.” She hurriedly palms the crystal, trying to disconnect the call. “I feel so much better already. Thanks! Love you. Bye.”

She just like the way she looked.

It wasn't a crush.

...but.

What if they were right?

.....

OH GOD DID SHE HAVE A CRUSH ON HER REFLECTION???