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Mayor Ambrose,
This is an automated emergency message from the A.I. Core of the Advent Platform Sanctuary. Emergence activity will spike around the A.O.P. Sanctuary within 43 hours. Inform all citizens to report to their nearest shelters immediately. For more detailed instructions and information on current emerging attack patterns, refer to the attached files.
— Email to Jack Ambrose, May 23, 2048. Left unread.
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Chapter One
I stared out the bus window at the fog, trying to pick out the buildings in Haven’s city center. The needle shape of CalWestTech’s tower poking through the wall of gray, its massive digital clock reading 6:42 AM, May 24. The arching magitech-reinforced buildings gracefully towering over even CalWestTech. And, of course, the bulk of the grounded A.O.P. Sanctuary sitting in the middle of the city, its superstructure looming over the mountains to its north. I drummed my fingers against the bus’s window and zoomed my left eye’s vision in just a touch. I’d seen it all before, but today was a special day, and I wanted to take every bit.
“The fog comes on little cat feet,” I murmured. There was something relaxing about the fog that covered the city below it every morning, lifting just before noon. It was quiet and comforting, a blanket for my thoughts. I yawned.
“The fuck does that mean?”
And just like that, the blanket was torn off. Dad sat next to me. I sat up and looked at my dark green gown over my school uniform, face flushing red. “It’s part of a poem I studied in Early Twentieth Century Writers. It’s by Carl Sandburg. He wrote it to be an American haiku, which I think is really cool…” I trailed off. Dad’s glare spoke louder than my explanation.
“Alice. Shut up.” He turned away, scowling at the bus driver.
I nodded, shaking a little. It wasn’t a good idea to push him after I’d lied about where I was last night. And he was still going to my graduation, on a Saturday, way too early. I was already inconveniencing Dad. It wouldn’t be wise to annoy him. I returned to staring out the window.
The city center’s shapes swam by in the fog, futuristic magitech buildings made of more glass than metal, with sweeping lines and curves that sparkled sunlight through the mist. I tried to return to Sandburg’s poem, reciting it silently as a calming mantra. Still, my hand shook a little. I went back to tapping the window. Quietly.
A few minutes later, the bus squeaked to a stop in an industrial neighborhood. Boxy steel-and-concrete buildings dotted the oceanfront, and smokestacks belching chemical smoke pushed the fog lower to the ground. A hundred yards upwind from the nearest chemical plant was my school. West End High looked much like the surrounding buildings - square, with only a few windows on some of the older wings. Around the back, I could see the metal scaffolding the graduation stage was built from on the soccer field.
Dad glanced over at me, then pointed at my face. “Put it on. Your school reeks, and you’ll get sick.” I dug in my bag and pulled out an off-white paper mask, popping it into shape and adjusting it to fit over my mouth and nose. He wasn’t wrong, but the mask also wouldn’t be staying on for long. Industrial odors were less annoying than not being able to carry on a conversation with Sora.
I pointed to the soccer field, answering the question before Dad could ask it. “You sit over there. I’m supposed to go inside to get ready, but I’ll see you after the ceremony.” I held my arms out for a hug, but he grunted and started walking down the bus aisle.
For a moment, I stood there, slowly lowering my arms. A yell built inside of me, but that would just make things worse. It was better to just move on.
I not-quite-ran off the bus behind him, turning toward the school building on my right as he went left. With a quick look over my shoulder to check that he’d walked the right way, I jogged through the double doors and into the school’s main hall.
As soon as I got inside, I tore the mask off and shoved it into my blazer pocket. I took a deep breath, pushed a strand of light brown hair out of my eyes, and continued the poem.
“The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent….”
I yelped a surprised “Eep!” sound as the cafeteria door opened and someone grabbed my hand, pulling me inside.
“Good morning, Alice! This is so exciting!” I took a deep breath and grinned. It was Sora! “Everyone’s here, and Mr. Andrews said we have fifteen minutes until it’s time to get lined up! And they passed out brochures with all the information about who’ll be speaking and when! Guess who’s doing the keynote?”
I cocked my head at the tiny girl before me, raising an eyebrow and double-checking that I looked her in the eye. The advanced augments Sora had gotten two years ago helped with her hearing. Still, with so much background noise in the cafeteria, she’d definitely be lip-reading. She’d put her black hair in a ponytail, and even in the most petite gown she could buy, she looked about ready to drown. Or maybe burst; she practically shook with excitement!
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“I don’t know. Who?”
“You’ll have to guess! It’s so cool!” Sora bounced on the balls of her feet a couple of times.
I snatched the leaflet from her grip before she could react.
“Melody’s doing the Valedictorian speech, and Mr. Andrews has the staff speech, no surprises there; the principal loves him.” I stopped reading and looked at Sora, who had a gigantic grin on her face. “No. Fucking. Way.”
“Yep, Overclock!” Sora squealed. “From Team ResCute!”
Overclock.
The 10th ranked girl on the Magical Girl forums. My breathing sped up as I sat down on a cafeteria bench.
I’d been a fan of Team ResCute for years, but Sunburst, Cobra Kyra, and Jasper had parted ways with their fourth teammate, Asymmetria, a year ago. Trading a Red for a Yellow was a strange choice for most teams, and Overclock was under-leveled for the types of Emergences ResCute showed up to handle. The forums all agreed that her power was…well, overpowered. But no one quite knew what it did or how it worked. It seemed to activate and immediately shut down. As soon as it shut down, though, the machines took huge amounts of damage.
Sora sat down next to me, I got out my phone, and we spent the following few minutes browsing videos of Team ResCute to find out what Overclock’s power was. There were lots of videos of Asymmetria-era ResCute, and a few theory crafters trying to guess what it might be. Somehow, though, Team ResCute had managed to keep Overclock off the cameras. Either that or (according to JeredCruel) her power didn’t show up on cameras.
“It definitely has to do with buffing; she’s a Yellow,” Sora muttered. “But what kind of buff? The footage on the forums is all out of date.”
“But what if it’s messing with the machines they’re fighting? That’d be harder to see on footage and harder for people to pick up in person. Plus, maybe she’s more camera-shy than Asymmetria was, and ResCute is respecting that.”
“No, because she’s here, giving a speech. Introverted Magical Girls don’t give speeches. Not unless they have to.”
“Students,” A deep bass voice cut through the noise in the cafeteria, and Mr. Andrews stood on a table in the middle of the room. “We’ll march out to our spots, just like in rehearsal. Please put your phones and tablets away, find the spot next to your alphabetical partner, and line up.”
Sora and I shared a quick hug. “I’ll see you on the other side of this,” I said, watching her leave to stand up with the “I” names. I stood next to Trent Pankowski, studiously ignoring him. I’d never been friends with him, even though we’d shared advanced Language Arts classes for a couple of years.
“Everyone’s in place? Great. We’ll wait by the door until the music starts, then walk out.” Mr. Andrews’ voice carried to the whole line, which wound around the cafeteria until it almost touched the front again.
Pomp and Circumstance started playing, and Mr. Andrews waved us forward. We marched out, and I looked for Dad. He sat in the soccer stands near the back, screwing the lid off a bottle. I didn’t want to look at him other than that - better that we just do our separate things. It was great that he was here, though. Instead, I went down the aisle to my seat, a steel folding chair, and smoothed my gown over my legs as I sat.
I zoomed my eye in on the platform where the teachers sat in their gowns and fancy hats. There she was.
Overclock.
She was in her late teens, with a shorter, stockier build. She wore a white blazer with goldenrod highlights, while her skirt was jet-black with a clock motif repeated across it, reaching to her lower thigh. Knee-high socks with a yellow-and-white argyle pattern tucked into a pair of black mid-calf boots with a slight heel. Curly red hair reached just above her shoulders in a bob held off her face with a thin yellow headband. A long, slim dagger sat in a sheath on her right hip, with yellow ribbons hanging from its handle.
Mrs. McMillian, the principal, stood and walked to the podium. Despite her age, she moved quickly in her gown, putting her head close to the microphone. “Hello, and welcome to Commencement for the 2048 West End High Elk!” A polite applause followed, along with a cheer from Trent that left my ear ringing. “I had planned on giving my speech first and having Melody go next, but I’m afraid none of you would pay attention to anything we said, so I’ll introduce our keynote speaker and let her get things started.
“Our keynote speaker is one of Sanctuary’s defenders, but as recently as two years ago, she was a student at a school not unlike this one. A member of the, ah, ResCute team, this Magical Girl exemplifies how teamwork and cooperation can make any good team great. In her first public appearance since breaking the top 50 rankings, our keynote speaker is Overclock.”
The Magical Girl stood up, checked her blazer quickly, and strode to the podium, nodding thanks to Mrs. McMillian. “Hello, students and families. I can’t tell you how happy I am to be on this field again. I played soccer against some of you a couple of years back! Sorry for all the fouls!”
I looked around. A few girls in the audience were giving the stinkeye to Overclock - they must’ve been soccer players themselves - but most people laughed politely.
Overclock beamed at us and continued. “I’m not here to talk about sports, though, even if we did win more often than you did! I’m here to talk about the future you’ll help make.
“Haven is wonderful, it truly is, but it’s not the only place we should be calling home. As the leaders of tomorrow, you and your friends will be responsible for moving us back off the island fortresses we’ve built and pushing back against the Macks - er, machines. I hope each of you has been prepared for our species’ future by your upbringing and education, and each of you…”
Suddenly, she frowned, her eyes narrowing. “...No…no. Dammit! Not here, not now…”
The crowd gasped, and so did I. Magical Girls didn’t curse in the vids I’d watched.
Then, a moment later, the reason for Overclock’s foul language popped up in my optical augment. And in everyone else’s.
Warning!
Emergence Detected
An Emergence event has been detected at or near your location. Internet connectivity has been disabled. Phone systems have been disabled. Audio and visual surveillance have been disabled. Electrical power has been rerouted to emergency systems. Emergency ordinances and State of Emergency laws are in effect.
* Please remain calm and follow your optical augment’s directions to the nearest shelter.
* Avoid contact with aberrant Machines at all costs.
* Do not, under any circumstances, interfere with any Magical Girls operating in your area.