919/08/02

In a maternity ward a man sat next to his wife, their baby held within his arms.

“Carol?” Stephen asked softly.

“Hm?” Caroline said, opening her weary eyes.

“Have you thought of a name yet?”

“I have,” she said, smiling weakly. “How does…’Alexander’ sound?”

“Alexander Pryce,” Stephen hummed. “I like it.”

Five years later, 924/09/23

“Come now, Alex, say hello,” Papa said, nudging him forward.

“Easy, Stephen, he’s never met so many people before,” Mama said.

Alex was thankful that the strangers were finally stepping away, but for some reason they still kept staring at him.

Well, him and someone else.

“Hello!” said a child, who was probably the ‘James’ mama had told him about. James was a little smaller than Alex, which made sense since he was about half a year younger.

“...Hello,” Alex murmured in response. A nudge from his father reminded him that he was supposed to introduce himself. “My name is Alex.”

“My name is James!” was James’ energetic response. “Wanna see my toys?”

“...okay,” Alex said, uncertainly glancing back at mama and papa who nodded encouragingly.

Permission granted, Alex followed the younger child while awkwardly ignoring the murmurs of the adults. They were talking about things he already knew about anyway, like their trip here – which was so bumpy that it made him throw up – along with other things that no one cared about, like how something called ‘slavery’ wasn’t allowed anymore.

These thoughts left Alex’s mind as James led him to what was presumably his room, and picked up a strange toy Alex had never seen before.

“Papa made these for me!” James said proudly, holding an odd bunch of toothed circles that Alex didn’t know the names of. “This is the mainspring, and it’s connected to the winding pinion so that it spins when it spins, see? And if you spin it enough, it can keep going by itself for a long long time! And this is the main wheel, and this is the escape wheel, and this-”

Alex stared, overwhelmed by the complexity of the device.

“...Do you have a toy like this?” James asked, sounding baffled by his confusion.

“...no,” Alex admitted.

“Oh,” James said, deflating a little. “Are you sure?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes…”

“Hmm,” James said. “My birthday is in a month. Papa said he will make me a better one then,” he said slowly. “Do you want this one?”

“I…don’t know how to play with this,” Alex admitted. It made him feel stupid to say it, but papa always said that lying was bad.

“That’s okay, I can teach you, like papa teached me!” James beamed, regaining his former excited energy.

“Really?” Alex asked. “I don’t know if I can learn this,” he said, intimidated by the toy’s complexity – it had so many moving parts!

“That’s okay, papa says it looks complacam-complicated,” James said, stumbling a little over the long word but losing none of his enthusiasm, “it is a little complicated, but each part is simple, so to learn the whole thing you just need to learn a lot of simple things!”

That…did make sense, Alex thought. “Okay, can you teach me?”

“Sure!” James said, smiling brightly.

----------------------------------------

“Alex, it’s time to go,” papa called.

“Coming!” Alex called back, then turned back to James. “Can I really have this?”

“Yep! I already know everything about it, so I don’t need it anymore,” James said, grinning proudly.

“Alex, where are you?” papa asked, peering into the room.

“James is giving me his toy!” Alex said excitedly.

“Oh. Is that alright with you, Gerson?”

James’ papa – or Gerson, as papa called him – rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “That old thing? I don’t see why not – it’s just something I whipped together out of spare parts; I’m going to be giving James a better one next month anywho.”

“Well then,” papa said, crouching down to talk to James. “Thank you James. Alex, say-”

“Thank you!” Alex said to James, then glanced at papa. “Can we come back tomorrow?”

“Alex, it’s not polite to invite yourself,” papa chided.

“It’s alright, James needs a friend anyway,” Mr. Wright chuckled. “Feel free to come on over whenever you feel like it – we’re family, after all.”

Three months later, 925/01/05

“I’ll be right here after school, alright?”

“I know, you already told me, mom,” Alex groaned.

“Yes, just making sure,” his mother said, straightening his collar. “Remember to listen to your teachers, and be nice to everyone, especially on your first day.”

“I know, I promise I’ll be good,” Alex said, fidgeting as she straightened out a tiny crease.

“I know you’re sad that James couldn’t be in the same grade as you,” his mother went on in an oddly cheerful tone, “but you’ll still be able to play together after class.”

“I know,” Alex sighed. He turned his head around to see the schoolyard emptying behind him. “I need to go now, bye.”

“Goodbye! Have fun!”

Alex waved goodbye, and stepped into the school. He’d been here once before, but it still took a few turns to find the homeroom. He stepped in, nervously glancing at each student – there were so many new faces, how was he supposed to-

“James? What are you doing here?”

“Hey Alex,” James said, smiling broadly. “My parents talked to the teachers, and they let me start school early!”

“We’re going to be classmates?” Alex asked excitedly.

James’s grin somehow got wider. “Yep!”

“Awesome!”

Five years later, 930/03/33

“You head home first,” Alex said. “I want to ask Mrs. Tanner something.”

“Really? Like what?” James asked skeptically. “It’s just Murian class. You could write gibberish and do well enough.”

Alex shrugged. “I want to know if my topic is okay for the class.”

“Alright,” James huffed, “but hurry up, you know we have to be home early today for the game.”

“I will, I will,” Alex said, and rushed back to Mrs. Tanner’s room.

James sighed as he left the school. It was about a twenty-minute walk back home, so Alex had plenty of time to catch up.

He glanced around a few times – the few students around him were all in their own little groups, and none of them paid any particular attention to him. Not that he minded, they were all boring anyway, unlike Alex.

“Well, if it isn’t the boy genius,” came an insufferable-yet-familiar voice.

“Dean,” James said shortly, turning back around to glare at the older boy. He’d walked further than he’d thought, and he couldn’t see anyone else around them except for Jack and Travis, who flanked Dean’s sides like undersized bodyguards.

“You did pretty well on that last test,” Dean said, hands in his pockets.

“Thanks, I guess,” James said, making sure to sound as insincere as possible.

“The thing is,” Dean drawled, “my father promised that he’d take me on a vacation to Auster if I placed in the top three of the last term test.”

“Oh,” James said. “Which place were you, again?”

“Fourth,” Dean said, through gritted teeth.

“Ah. Sorry about that,” James said, scratching his head. “Maybe try studying harder next time?”

Dean shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. See, I’m not a genius like you, so I don’t think it’s fair for us to be competing, don’t you think? In fact, why don’t you take it easy next term test?”

James blinked. “But I have been taking it easy.”

Dean’s smile twitched, just a touch. “My father said he’ll give me another chance for the next term test,” he said, ignoring the comment, “so I figured, why not play it safe, and make sure a certain someone doesn’t try and get in my way?”

And before James could react, the older boy drove his fist into his gut.

“Urk!” James coughed, collapsing onto the ground as the air was knocked out of his lungs.

“I thought about just giving you a warning,” Dean said, dragging James up by his collar, “but then I saw you wandering around without that mixed friend of yours, and I figured I might as well make sure you learn your lesson.”

“...hurts,” James gasped.

“Good,” Dean snorted. “Now, what are you going to do next term test?”

“...” James wheezed.

“What was that? Speak up!” Dean jeered, causing his lackeys to snicker. “If you’re not gonna answer I’m gonna have to give you ano-”

Crack.

James stumbled as Dean collapsed like a puppet. Behind him stood Alex, a thick branch in his hands.

“You da-” Jack spat, but didn’t react in time before Alex whacked him across the face with his makeshift weapon, sending the boy reeling on the ground. James pushed himself up as Alex moved to swing at Travis, but the last boy had been prepared, and caught the stick before punching Alex in the face.

Travis moved to kick Alex while he was down, but James leapt forward to tackle the older boy – or tried to; he barely caused him to stumble.

But he’d bought just enough time for Alex to stand back up, and Travis went down with one good punch.

“Run!” Alex cried, and they bolted away before Dean and his lackeys could stand back up.

----------------------------------------

“Are you okay?” Alex asked when they had finally gotten far away enough.

“I’m fine,” James wheezed, rubbing his jaws. He glanced up at Alex and saw that his face was already bruising, and the knuckles on his fist had split.

“Good,” Alex sighed, wincing as he prodded himself a little too hard. “How do they always manage to find you so quickly?”

“Beats me. Literally,” James snickered, then coughed in pain.

“Oh no,” Alex abruptly sighed.

“What?!” James whipped his head around, expecting to see Dean turning the corner – but there was no one around. He glanced back in confusion at Alex, who hung his head.

“Mom is not going to like this.”

----------------------------------------

“Mom, I’m home,” Alex called out, tentatively poking his head through the front door. “...mom?”

No response. That was odd, mother didn’t have work today. Maybe she was out shopping? Or maybe-

Suddenly, the sound of vomiting echoed from the bathroom.

“Mom? Are you okay?” Alex asked, running over to the bathroom.

“I’ll…be fine, dear,” said his mother, panting as she turned to face him. Alex froze – she looked horrible. Strands of hair clung to her damp, unhealthily pale skin. Alex glanced into the toilet bowl, and he suddenly felt sick when he saw wisps of blood in the water. “Alex, I need you to go call the ambulance-” she was interrupted by another bout of vomiting.

“I’ll go call the ambulance,” Alex said in a rush as he dashed to the phone, his own pain completely forgotten. He hurriedly picked up the phone and fidgeted as he waited for an operator.

“Number?” came a female operator’s voice.

“Ambulance!”

“Switching,” came the quick response.

A few seconds later another voice spoke. “Emergency services.”

“My mom is sick and throwing up and bleeding, we live on 601, 21st street!”

“Understood, the ambulance is on its way,” the operator said. “Tell me about your mom, is she awake?”

“Yes, I just got home and I saw her throwing up, there’s blood in the toilet and she told me to call the ambulance,” Alex said in a rush, torn between going back to checking on his mother and staying with the operator.

“Good, you're doing a great job,” said the operator, “the ambulance will be there in five to ten minutes? Just hold on, and let me know if anything changes.”

“Okay, I-”

“Alex? What's going on?” James asked, peering into the open doorway.

“My mom's sick, get your parents! And call my dad!”

James rushed off without another word, and ran back a minute later. “My mom's on the phone now, is there anything I should do?”

“I don’t know, ask my mom if she needs help!”

Mrs. Wright arrived an eternity later, and she helped him carry his mom out to the front of the house, where the ambulance finally, finally arrived a few minutes later.

The trip to the hospital was a blur, and then his mother was ushered away, leaving him alone with James.

“Do you think she'll be okay?” Alex asked, after several moments of silence.

“I…hope so,” James said, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Alex, there you are.”

Alex jumped as a hand rested on his shoulder, then relaxed as he recognized his father.

“Dad? How’s mom?”

“I spoke with the other doctors first; her appendix burst. She's going to need surgery,” said his father, his face set and grim.

“Is…she going to be okay?” Alex asked, searching his father’s eyes for any hint of reassurance.

“Doctor Holt is one of the best surgeons in the hospital, and he’ll be the one operating on her.”

Alex opened his mouth, wanting to point out that his question hadn’t been answered, but the look in his father’s eyes silenced him.

“James, you should go home,” dad suggested, changing the subject, “your mother must be worried.”

“She’s not, she told me to come with Alex and Mrs. Pryce,” James said, shaking his head. “...And I would like to stay too, Mr. Pryce,” he added, when father regarded him silently.

“...very well, so long as your parents know you’re here,” said father as he glanced around. “I’ll go check on your mother now, but I don’t know when I’ll be back. Stay here, understand?”

“Yes, dad,” Alex said, though his father had already disappeared through the swinging doors, having barely stayed long enough to listen.

“Do you…want to talk?” James said, with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

“No.”

“Sorry,” James said, staring at the floor in front of him. “I don’t know how I can help. Do you want to be alon-”

“No,” Alex said, before James could even finish his sentence.

“...Alright then,” James said, slowly and cautiously. “I’m sure she’ll be okay,” he said, after a moment’s silence, “your mom is tough – almost as mean as my mom!”

“Heh, yeah, she is,” Alex said, chuckling a little. “She’ll be fine. She has to be.”

----------------------------------------

“Dad?” Alex asked drowsily, sitting up from his waiting room seat. “Where were you? How’s mom?”

“Alex.” His father kneeled down to look him in the eyes, and he knew something had gone horribly wrong. “Doctor Holt did the best he could, but the infection had already spread too far. Your mother died a few minutes ago.”

“...w-what?” Alex stammered, his voice cracking. “But I just talked to her earlier today!”

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Stephen said, wrapping his arms around his son as he burst into tears. “She’s gone.”

----------------------------------------

“How are you feeling?” James asked quietly back home, a few hours after the funeral.

“I’m…okay,” Alex rasped, rubbing his reddened eyes. “It’s just…”

“...just what?” James asked gently, when he failed to continue.

“It’s just…how can someone die so easily?” Alex wheezed. “She was fine a few days ago. It’s so unfair!”

“Life isn’t fair,” James said, patting him on the back. “That’s what my dad always says.”

“Then I’ll make it fair,” Alex said through gritted teeth. “I’m going to become a doctor, so no one will die like this again.”

“Hmm…” James said neutrally, though Alex could tell he was conflicted about something.

“I”m sorry,” Alex said, “I know we said we’d do engineering or science together, but-”

“I know, I know,” James sighed, waving him off. “But…if you’re going to be a doctor then you better be the most famous doctor ever, got it?”

Pryce smiled – a weak smile, but it was the first he’d had in days. “Sounds fair to me.”

Six years later, 936/02/19

Alex had been on his way to the library when he saw another student’s backpack split open, spilling contents out across the floor.

“Shit!” she swore, and kneeled to stuff the papers back into her backpack, holding it upside down so that the contents would not spill back out.

“Here,” Alex said, handing her a book that had fallen near him.

“Thanks,” she said, looking forlornly at her bag.

“The bookstore has a discount on backpacks right now. 25% off,” Alex said, unshouldering his own bag for her to see. “They’re not bad.”

“Oh, thanks for the tip,” she said, smiling as she stood back up.

“You’re welcome,” Alex said, and continued on his way to the library. There he sat down, and studied to pass the time. Fortunately he didn’t have to wait long; James arrived a few minutes later.

“So, how are your courses?” James asked as he arrived. He carried with him two cups of tea, one of which he placed on Alex’s end of the table.

“Busy, as usual,” Alex said without taking his eyes off his textbook, his right hand busy scribbling his notes.

“So am I, but you can’t spend all day cooped up in the library.”

Alex paused for a moment to raise his eyebrow at James. “You know you only know that because you’re here to see me, right?”

“Which is why I know when we should take a break!” Insisted James. “Com’on, you just finished midterms, right? You can afford to wind down for an afternoon.”

“...I have an essay due next week,” Alex sighed.

“Which means you have a whole week to do it!”

“You know, I’m surprised you’re so insistent on this,” Alex said, fully setting down his textbook. “You usually spend all your free time on the pocketwatch-”

“-chronometer,” James corrected.

“-pocketwatch of yours. What model are you on now?”

“Just finished Mark 3!” James said smugly. “It only loses 10 seconds per day now!”

“Right, and you’ve suddenly lost interest because…?”

“I haven’t lost interest! I was just invited by some friends to a party in the south dorm, that’s all.”

“...it’s because there’s a girl, isn’t there?” Pryce deadpanned.

“No, it’s not because there’s a girl,” James huffed, rolling his eyes.

Alex raised his eyebrow. “...it’s because there’s a guy?”

“No!” James denied vehemently, earning a few scolding glares from the nearby students. “No,” he hissed quietly.

Alex stared, unconvinced.

“Alright fine, there is a girl,” James said, with emphasis on the determiner. “Her name’s Elizabeth, and-”

“Can’t help you,” Alex said, going back to his textbook.

“Come on, lend me a hand!” James pleaded quietly.

“You know I don’t know anything about this sort of thing,” Alex said, groaning in exasperation.

“Neither do I, but I want your support, alright?”

“...alright, fine,” Alex sighed, and ignored James’s celebratory gesturing as he packed his books. “Where is this place?”

----------------------------------------

Alex had spent the last ten minutes trying to find James, and was beginning to deeply regret coming to this party.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Alex turned to see the speaker, and was surprised to see the girl from earlier. “Hello. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Me neither,” the girl chuckled. “Oh! I never introduced myself: my name’s Elizabeth. Elizabeth Kelly.”

“Alexander Pryce – but everyone calls me Alex.”

“Alex,” Elizabeth nodded, “which faculty are you in? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

“I’m a first year student in the faculty of medicine,” Alex nodded. “I’m-”

“Alex, there you are!” James said, suddenly appearing out of the crowd. “Oh, and you’ve met Elizabeth already!”

“I have,” Alex said, and glanced back at Elizabeth. He wasn’t the best at reading people, but even he could tell that she seemed mildly put-off by James, though the latter seemed completely oblivious to this fact. Alex had no issue admitting that James was far smarter than he was, but his brother was never the best with words.

Alex mentally sighed. James was definitely going to owe him for this later.

“Alex is a brother of mine,” James said, interrupting his train of thought.

“Really?” Elizabeth asked, surprised. “But you don’t look related, and aren’t your last names-”

“We’re not related by blood, but our families are old friends,” Alex explained. “James isn’t the best with words-”

“Hey!”

“But I’ve never met anyone kinder or smarter than him,” Alex finished, earning a surprised look from the two of them.

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself,” James said, his face flushing a little with embarrassment. “Like he said, I’m not good with words, so Alex is the one to talk to if you want to actually learn something.”

“...I see,” Elizabeth said in mildly thoughtful tones. “A couple of friends of mine are meeting up after this party, would you two like to join us?”

“Sure!” James said.

“Sorry,” Pryce declined. “I’ve got some studies to catch up on.”

“Aleeeex,” James groaned.

“You already convinced me to come to this party, but now I have to go and be responsible,” Alex said, refusing to budge. “Not everyone can finish their homework between classes like you can.”

“Well, that’s not a bad mentality to have, but do give us a shout whenever you’re free,” Elizabeth said.

“Will do,” Alex nodded. “...so, what do you typically do at parties?”

Three years later, 939/01/30

“Well, guess we can call you ‘Doctor Pryce’ now, eh?” James said, throwing his arm over Alex’s shoulders.

“That might be confusing, having two doctor Pryce’s around,” Stephen commented, smiling drily.

“That is true,” Alex said, agreeing with his father. “If anything it makes more sense to call you ‘Doctor Wright’.”

“Ugh, please no,” James said, recoiling away in mock horror. “It makes me sound like some old man you’ll see in a textbook.”

“I think ‘Doctor Wright’ sounds dignified,” Elizabeth commented, looping her arm around her boyfriend.

“Not you too,” James groaned. “You’re not going to make me call you ‘Doctor Kelly, are you?”

“Well, I did work pretty hard for this title, you know,” Elizabeth hummed, “it would be a shame if I didn’t get to use it.”

“You should use it, son,” Gerson said, patting James on the shoulder. “Not many people get the chance to pursue a higher education like you did.”

James paused, and suddenly looked a bit guilty. “Oh…alright,” he sighed, defeated.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better you’re always going to be my baby boy,” chuckled Mrs. Wright.

“Mooom!” James hissed, while Elizabeth giggled into his side.

Stephen turned away from the group to clap his son on the shoulder. “You’ve done well for yourself. Your mother would be proud of you.”

Alex nodded, his lips pressed into a bittersweet smile. “I know.”

2 years later, 941/10/28

In an empty break room, Doctor Pryce heaved as he wiped the vomit from his lips.

Memories of the past six months flashed in his mind.

An infant who had died of fever before being held by her mother.

A young child who had scraped his knee and died of the ensuing infection.

And just an hour ago, a young mother had died of sepsis, leaving behind a husband and two children.

He retched into the waste bin again.

1 day later, 941/10/29

“James,” Alex said, smiling as he hugged his brother. “It’s been too long; work has been far too busy.”

“Same, my supervisors just won’t get off my back, even though I already designed them a whole new engine. I haven’t had much time to tinker with the chronometer – mark 6’s been almost finished for ages,” James said, grinning as they each took a swig of their drinks. A moment of silence passed, which Alex thought to be companionable until James let out a long sigh.

“Alex, are you alright?”

“...of course I am,” Alex said, though he knew his smile was strained. “The hospital’s been busy, that’s all.”

“But that’s not everything, is it?” James asked, undeterred. “Please Alex, I’m worried about you.”

“...alright,” Alex sighed, and set down his glass. “It’s just…there’s so much death, every day. I try my best, but…what am I even doing? I swore I’d change things, but I haven’t improved anything at all.”

James was silent for several moments, his gaze downcast and deep in thought. “...I see,” he said, and poured himself a new drink. “Why not change your career? Go into the sciences and do some research?”

“I’ve thought of that,” Alex sighed, “but…there’s so much work to be done at the hospital, I…”

“So are you making a difference, or are you not?” James challenged, an eyebrow raised. “The way I see it, the choice is clear,” he said, taking Alex’s silence as an answer. “Either you work yourself to death as a doctor, or you change jobs, and find an actual solution to the problem. You already have an idea of what to research, don’t you?”

“...I’ve been thinking about going into microbiology,” Alex admitted. “It’s a relatively young field of science, but there’s some promising progress being made. I do think it makes sense for natural threats to be fought with natural weapons, it’s just that…”

“Just what?”

Alex sighed. “It’ll take another three years to get that degree. That’s a long time.”

”Alex,” James said, and waited for his friend to look him in the eye. “You’re twenty-two. Most people wouldn’t have even graduated yet.”

“...I…guess I can work at the hospital part-time while I go back to university,” Alex said, scratching his head.

“Then it’s settled!” James said, topping off their glasses. “Soon you’ll have two doctorates. Who knows, maybe by then you’ll finally get a lady friend.”

Pryce rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide a smile as he held up his glass for a toast.

1 year later, 942/07/21

“The more I learn, the more concerned I become,” Alex said gravely. “The last plague was two centuries ago, and we’re far overdue for another one, especially when you take things like rising population densities and industrial farms into account.”

“That’s a good point. Why haven’t I heard of this before?” Elizabeth said, frowning. “You can’t be the only one who’s worried about this.”

“People don’t care about problems until they become a problem,” Alex snorted dismissively. “Millions of lives are at risk, and yet the budget going into antibacterial research is a pittance compared to what the other faculties have.”

James leaned forward, furrowing his brow. “What about your professors?” he asked.

“I helped my professor of infectious disease write a formal letter to the NHO,” Alex sighed. “They ignored it. I’ve also contacted a few science magazines; one of them offered to let us publish a snippet in an article of theirs, though I doubt it will amount to much.”

“Well, at least it’s a start,” James shrugged.

“I suppose,” Alex nodded reluctantly. “Sorry for the rant, you said you had something important to talk about?”

“I do,” James said, a grin spreading across his face as he threw an arm around Elizabeth. “Guess who’s getting married?”

Alex widened his eyes. “It’s about time, congratulations! When’s the date?”

“Sixth day of the third month,” Elizabeth said, flashing the golden band on her pinky. “At least that’s what we have planned so far – will you be able to make it?”

“I’ll make sure to clear my calendar,” Alex nodded, taking note of the date. “It’s good that you two are finally getting married. You always were meant for each other.”

“I don’t know about that,” James snorted. “I’m pretty sure she would’ve shot me down if it weren’t for you.”

Elizabeth grinned. “As usual, you’d be right, my dear,” she teased.

“So, need any help preparing for the wedding?” Alex asked.

“No, no,” James said, waving him off. “Let us handle our own business.You’re busy enough as it is with your studies and part time work.”

“Well, I’m not certainly not disputing that,” Alex sighed. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you again, but I got a paper to write tomorrow. Same time next month?”

8 months later, 943/03/06

“Well, this has been far more draining than I expected,” James sighed, having just mingled his way through the gathered attendees – a task that had taken the better part of an hour thanks to the handshakes, well-wishes, and the usual platitudes that came with a marriage.

“I’m just glad your family isn’t as big as mine,” Elizabeth sighed. “Though I am deeply regretting my choice of footwear at the moment.”

“Look on the bright side,” Alex said, “it’s about time for the gifts.”

“Oh, so it is,” James said, looking a little surprised. “I wasn’t expecting much, but everyone’s been so secretive about it that I can’t help but wonder what there’ll be.”

“Alright everyone, come over here!” came Gerson’s voice through the microphone. “It’s time for the gifting ceremony!”

“Good timing,” James said, rising from his seat with a visible effort to stand opposite of his father.

Gerson cleared his throat as the crowd settled into place. “It’s been said several times by all of us here, but I’ll say it again: Congratulations to the both of you on the next chapter of your lives. To celebrate, allow me to present to you a gift from all of us.” He said, throwing something at James.

…who, of course, fumbled the catch.

“Gotcha,” Elizabeth said, catching the falling item just before it hit the ground, then held it up for all to see: a pair of shining car keys.

“You didn’t,” James breathed, recognizing the logo on the keys.

“Well, I did say it was a gift from all of us,” Gerson said, beckoning them all outside the venue, where a shiny new car sat parked by the front door. “And you two are going to need a car to drive a family around.”

“Naruna, this is a Castro Crown!” James said, gesturing to the vehicle. “Just how much did this cost?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex said, clapping James on the shoulder. “The cost wasn’t so bad – not with so many people chipping in.”

“...I don’t know what to say,” James said, looking around at the gathered friends and family. “Thank you all so much.”

“Well? Give it a drive already!” one of James’ uncles called out, much to the amusement of those gathered.

“Now? Can I?” James asked excitedly.

“It’s your car,” Gerson said, gesturing towards the vehicle. “You just might have to ask her first.”

James whipped around to see Elizabeth already in the driver’s seat.

“Too slow, my dear,” she laughed as James scrambled into the passenger’s side.

“Wait a minute,” James said, feeling something was off. “...You knew dad was going to throw the keys at me, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, whistling innocently as she revved the engine, “but I definitely did not spend an entire day practicing how to catch fumbled keys.”

“I can’t believe it, turning my own family against me,” James huffed, feigning hurt. “I’ll have you know that I won’t let this insult go unanswered.”

“Promises promises,” Elizabeth smirked, and put the car into gear.

1 year later, 944/03/15

“Doctor Pryce, welcome,” Doctor Ainsley said as they shook hands. “I’ve heard good things from Doctor Fuller; I’m sure you’ll be a valuable addition to the team.”

“Thank you, I’m glad to be here,” Pryce said, smiling. “What should I start with?”

“Prioritize familiarizing yourself with our lab first, there’s a lot to learn,” Doctor Ainsley said. “Ah, here’s Doctor Caldwell, he was the newest member of our team before you joined.”

“Looking forward to working with you,” Caldwell said, shaking his hand. “Just let me know if you need anything, I’ll be glad to show you the ropes.”

“Caldwell, introduce Doctor Pryce to the others, will you?” Ainsley asked. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Alright, I suppose I should give you the tour,” Caldwell said as Ainsley left. “Follow me – it’s not a large place, but it’s quite densely packed.”

“So, how do you like working here?” Pryce asked as they walked down the hallway.

“It’s a good place with good people,” Caldwell shrugged. “We’re always fighting for more funding, but that’s hardly unusual for a laboratory. Right now we’re studying the composition of lysosomes in hopes of applying their mechanism to foreign bacteria – but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Ainsley’s discovery of the lysosome was one of the main reasons why I applied to work under him,” Pryce said. “Infection claims far too many lives; it’s due time someone found a way to fight against it, and I’ll help in any way I can.”

2 years later, 946/05/22

“Telegram for Doctor Pryce,” the secretary said, poking her head into the laboratory.

“Expecting something?” Caldwell asked.

“No, I’m not sure what that could be,” Pryce said, frowning as he flipped over the typed message.

Alex,

I promised Stephen I wouldn’t tell you this, but I’m afraid I can’t stay silent any longer.

Your father was diagnosed with dementia three years ago. He didn’t want you to worry, or to ‘waste your time with him’, so he made us all swear to never tell you.

I’m breaking my promise because he’s taken a turn for the worse. The doctors say he should still have a few years left before things get really bad, but you should get a chance to talk to him before things get too bad.

Please come home as soon as you’re able.

-Gerson

“You don’t look so good,” Caldwell said. “You alright?”

“I…just received news that my father has dementia.”

“Oh Naruna,” Caldwell swore, “I’m sorry to hear that-”

“Where’s Ainsley? I need to put in a leave of absence.”

----------------------------------------

“Oh good, you’re finally here,” Mrs. Wright said, ushering him towards his father’s house. “I’m so sorry it’s come to this, dear, but we didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s fine. I understand it was a difficult choice,” Alex sighed. As they approached, voices became audible even through the front door.

“Stephen, be reasonable-”

“I am being reasonable,” Stephen insisted. “All of you promised me not to tell him, and this is what you do?”

“You left me no choice,” Gerson growled. “Just the other day, you left your house without pants on! Your son won’t even get the chance to say goodbye at this rate – are you really going to do that to him?”

“He’s an adult now, he doesn’t need me!” Stephen yelled, and a thud echoed through the front door. “Why would I spend years unknowingly subjecting him to…this!”

Alex opened the door to see the two men staring at him, and his father’s fist upon a table.

“Father.”

“Alex,” Stephen sighed. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough. For the record, I agree with you.”

Stephen blinked. “Good, I-”

“I am an adult, and that means I can make my own choices,” Alex said, setting down his bags. “I’ll be staying here from now on.”

“Absolutely not,” Stephen glowered, “what about your job at…at…” he faltered, face contorted in frustration.

“...I worked at Auster, in a lab,” Alex said patiently. “But I was approved to work at a lab here in Arkouda.”

“Fine,” Stephen spat before storming off. “It’s clear no one cares what I have to say. Do whatever you want.”

“Thank you for coming so soon,” Gerson said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’d hoped seeing you would make him see sense, but it seems I was wrong.”

“Don’t take your father’s words to heart,” Mrs. Wright said, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, “he’s long since struggled to accept his diagnosis, and the memory loss has only made that harder.”

“I know,” Alex sighed. “I don’t blame him. It must be terrifying, having your memories disappear without you knowing.”

“Yes, well I’m sure he’s glad to see you, even if he doesn’t show it,” Mrs. Wright said, and picked up his bags. “Now, let’s get you settled in for the night.”

----------------------------------------

“Alex?”

“Good morning,” Alex said, turning off the stove to glance at his father. “I’m making breakfast, how many eggs do you-”

“What are you doing here?” Stephen asked, staring at him in confusion.

“I…” Alex trailed off as the cold reality of the situation began to sink in. “I work in Arkouda now, remember?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t rasp.

“Oh, but…,” Stephen said, brow furrowed. “Since when?”

Alex turned back to the stove, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Only recently. I’m going to work soon, but I’ll be back later today, alright?” he asked, setting down a plate of breakfast on the table.

“...I see,” his father murmured. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yes,” Alex said, picking up his work bag. “...We’ll talk later,” he said, gently resting a hand on his father’s shoulder before leaving for work.

----------------------------------------

“I’m home,” Alex said, closing the door behind him.

“Alex?” Came the confused response. A few seconds later his father poked his head out of his room to stare down the hallway. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Auster?”

1 year later, 947/11/18

“He’s…doing better than the doctors expect,” Alex sighed.

“I’m sorry I can’t be of any help,” James’ voice came through the telephone. “Elizabeth’s parents aren’t doing so great either, so I have to stay and help when I can. I’ve barely had any time to work on Mark 9 in the past few months, and-”

“It’s fine,” Alex said. “There’s not much you could do to help anyway, even if you were here.” He paused. “Sorry, that was a bit rude.”

“No, not at all,” James said, in a tone that always accompanied a dismissive wave. “Maybe I’ll see if I can visit sometime soon, it’s been too long since we’ve talked in person.”

“That would be nice,” Alex sighed. “Well, I have to catch the tram now. Talk to you later?”

“Of course. Take care, brother.”

The commute home was rather uneventful, with Arkouda’s usual cloudy winter skies blotting out the sun. Snow covered the ground, though it provided no impediment to the well-run tram system.

“Father, I’m home,” Alex said, twenty minutes later. “...father?”

An old feeling of dread settled in his stomach as no response came. He’d hoped his father was merely sleeping, and hadn’t fled the house as he had several times before.

“Father?”

Relief flooded through him when he saw his father’s hand on the armrest, facing away from him.

He quietly turned around and made his way to the kitchen, and quietly prepared dinner so as to not disturb his sleeping father.

The cold weather put him in the mood for some soup, so he used yesterday’s leftovers to make a simple stew, and boiled some noodles to go with it.

“Father, dinner’s ready,” Alex said, stepping into the living room. “Father?” he repeated, walking towards the armchair. Gently, he rested a hand on his father’s shoulder to wake him, as he had done so many times before.

No response.

“Father?” Alex shook his father harder, and still he did not stir.

Slowly, Alex raised his hand to touch his father’s face.

And found it cold.

2 weeks later, 947/11/34

“...do you know what happened?” James asked quietly. Most of the attendees had left with the end of the funeral, leaving the two of them alone before the headstone, save for their closest relatives who quietly conversed at a distance.

Alex took in a deep, shuddering breath. “According to the coroner, the cause of death was a massive heart attack. He died shortly before I got home.”

“Fuck,” James swore. “Damnit, I’m so sorry, I should have been there.”

“It’s fine,” Alex sighed. “It was unexpected, but I’ve had a long time to accept that he’s gone. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’m just…relieved, that it’s over.”

“I don’t think anyone could blame you,” James said, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. “I just wish I could have done something to help.”

“...Thanks.” Alex had not cried during the ceremony, but now his eyes had inexplicably begun to water. “But it’s fine, he’s…he’s…”

“Hey, come here,” James said, pulling his friend into an embrace. “It’s alright. It’ll be alright.”

Around them, snowflakes gently began to flutter to the ground.

1 week later, 947/12/06

“I’m surprised you moved,” Alex said to James’ parents. “Didn’t you two love that old home?”

“That we did,” Mrs. Wright chuckled, “but everyone seems to be living in Auster these days, and it’s such a bother asking all of you to travel so far just for a yearly gathering. Besides, living in these warmer climes might help my gardens finally bear some fruit,” she added, with a bit of self-deprecating laughter.

“Well, I won’t argue that it makes it easier for us,” James admitted. “Speaking of…if everyone could give us a moment? We have some important news to share.”

“Oh? What is it?” Gerson asked.

“We were going to announce this earlier, but it seemed better to wait until everyone was here for Narumas,” Elizabeth said as she stepped forward with her hands over her belly. “We’re going to have a baby.”

“Oh my! Congratulations!” Margrit exclaimed, hands over her mouth, while her husband beamed widely beside her.

“About damn time, I had half a mind to start bugging you two about it,” Gerson snorted, and heartily clapped James on the shoulder.

“We’ve been waiting for the right time!” James said defensively, though he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he turned to Alex.

“Congratulations!” Alex said, pulling James into a hug, “when did you two find out?”

“Liz told me two weeks ago, but of course she found out a whole week before that,” James said with mock indignation.

“The doctor expects my due date to be in about 6 months,” Elizabeth said, ignoring her husband’s glare with practiced ease. “We’ve already been preparing our home for the baby.”

“Do you have a name picked out?” Mrs. Wright asked excitedly.

“...we’re thinking about it,” James said, with a shared glance with Elizabeth.

“Well, this calls for a celebration,” Gerson grinned, and disappeared to retrieve a bottle of wine. “I’m going to be a grandfather!”

7 months later, 948/07/12

Alex rushed through the hospital, barely stopping to read the signs before he came to a halt outside of a delivery room.

How's she doing?” Alex panted, garnering James’ attention.

James opened his mouth, presumably to explain, but was interrupted by a scream from the delivery room.

“The nurses tell me that’s normal,” James said, wringing his hands. “But that’s honestly not very reassuring.”

Alex flinched as another scream tore through the hallways. The gruesome sights and sounds within a hospital were hardly new to him, but it was quite different for the patient to be someone he personally knew. “How long has it been since she’s gone into labor?”

“One hour now,” James replied, fidgeting restlessly. “So, how are things at the lab?”

Alex stared. “Is that the most pertinent thing to talk about right now?”

“Look, I’ve been fretting myself to pieces ever since she started screaming, and the damn nurses won’t let me be in the room with her because I’m apparently a health risk, so talk to me about something or I’m going to start losing my marbles.”

“Uh…” Alex stammered, “Alright, I’ll start with what we figured out about lysosomes…”

----------------------------------------

“...and that’s about it,” Alex said, shrugging helplessly.

James winced as a particularly loud scream emanated from the delivery room. “Well, I hope you and your colleagues work quickly. Only hospital staff are allowed in the labor room to reduce the risk of infection; if it weren’t for that then I could be in there with her,” he grumbled bitterly.

“I know, I know. We just can’t figure out a way to take advantage of their antibacterial nature,” Alex said, and laid a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder.

James only sighed, and pulled out a shiny round device. “She’s been in labor for six hours now. The average range for the first birth is 12-24 hours.”

“Is that…?”

“Yep, it’s the Mark 9,” James said, faintly smiling. “I was testing it when Liz went into labor. It only loses 0.3 seconds every day, but I think it’s still a bit too large…might try to fix that with the next version. Not that I’ll expect to have much time to work on that, what with the baby and all.”

“Understandable,” Alex said. After a moment, he asked, “are you hungry? I can go get something if you want.”

“No, I’m not hungry.” James paused. “Maybe a sandwich or something for Liz when it’s finally over? Do you think she would be in the mood to eat? Surely she’ll be exhausted, but I don’t know if she’ll be hungry.”

“I’ll buy her something.”

“And do hurry,” James sighed. “I know she’s having it infinitely worse than I am, but it’s nice to have someone distracting me.”

Alex nodded reassuringly. “Will do.”

----------------------------------------

The labor continued for several hours. During that time James and Elizabeth’s family arrived to lend their support to James, and their presence visibly comforted the father-to-be.

They all tensed when the delivery room fell silent, and James stood up when raised voices emanated through the door.

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

And then the door slid open.

“You can come in now,” a nurse said, beckoning them into the room.

“How is she?” James demanded, then turned to see Elizabeth – pale, completely exhausted, but alive, and in her arms was a bundle of cloth. “Elizabeth, are you alright?!” James asked as he rushed over to his wife.

“Yeah…I’m okay,” Elizabeth rasped, her voice barely intelligible.

“Congratulations, Mr. Wright,” the doctor smiled, “you are now the father of a healthy baby boy.”

“Oh, that’s good,” James said.

And then he fainted.

----------------------------------------

“Oh, he is just the cutest little thing!” Mrs. Wright said, gently rocking the sleeping baby in her arms. “Please tell me you two have decided on a name.”

“Arthur,” Elizabeth said, smiling softly. “His name is Arthur.”

“Arthur Wright,” Mr. Wright said experimentally. “Sounds like a strong name. I like it.”

“Alex, won’t you hold onto the baby for a moment? I need to go unpack the rest of my things,” Mrs. Wright said as she offered him the helpless baby.

“Me?” Alex said, holding his arms up haltingly. “No no no, I’ve never held a baby before.”

“It’ll be fine,” Mrs. Wright said warmly, “it’s not as if you’re going to drop him, are you?”

“Well…no…” Alex said uncertainly. He glanced at Elizabeth and James for help, only to see them nodding their consent.

“See? Not so hard now, is it?” Mrs. Wright asked as he tightly held onto the bundle of cloth, the baby himself barely registering in his arms.

“Hard to believe how small he is, isn’t it?” James said, moving to stand beside him.

“Yeah…” Alex said faintly, offering the child back to his father.

“Hold onto him a bit longer,” James said, surprising Alex. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something: what do you say about being Arthur’s godfather?”

Alex blinked, flummoxed. “Excuse me?”

“We’ve discussed it earlier, Elizabeth and I,” James said, nodding at his wife, “you’ve been a brother to me my whole life, and I’d be honored if you’d be the godfather of my son.”

“But I…I don’t know anything about raising babies,” Alex stammered, face flushed with discomfort.

“Neither do we,” James shrugged. “And besides, that’s what my mother’s moving in for. It’s not like we’re expecting you to raise him yourself,” he chuckled.

“Sorry for springing this on you,” Elizabeth said from her bed. “You don’t have to decide now.”

“No…I accept,” Alex said, surprising himself a little. Arthur wasn’t his son, and he had never particularly desired to be a parent, but holding the baby had stirred unfamiliar paternal feelings within him, and he found himself all too happy to accept this unexpected role. “Arthur,” he said, smiling. “My godson.”

2 months later, 948/09/06

“He’s finally stopped crying so much,” James sighed. These last two months had exhausted him more than anything Alex had seen him do, including the number of all-nighters he’d done through his university studies. Alex wasn’t sure if the bags under James and Elizabeth’s eyes were any smaller than they had been a week ago, but he decided against voicing that observation.

“So, any progress at the lab?” James asked. It had become a tradition for him to ask every few days now.

“No, still nothing major,” Alex sighed. “We just can’t isolate the inhibitor, no matter what we try, and we’ve still barely received any additional funding!”

“Still?”

“It’s too hard to isolate, so everyone thinks it won’t ever be practical,” Alex growled. “We can’t think of any way to convince them to give us more funding without first isolating the inhibitor…which we need funding to get. If only they weren’t so damn short-sighted!”

“Language,” James reflexively said. “Sorry. You’ll find a way,” he said, reassuringly, then wrinkled his nose. “Ah. Looks like someone needs to have their diaper changed…again.”

“I’ll handle it,” Alex said, sitting up before James could rise from his seat. “You go ahead and take a break.”

“You are a godsend,” James sighed, melting back into his chair. Within seconds he began to snore stentoriously.

“Alright little guy,” Alex said, holding the baby at arm’s length. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

4 months later, 949/01/07

“He’s going to say his first words soon,” Elizabeth said confidently. “I just know it.”

“It would be a bit early, but he has been babbling more than usual,” James agreed.

“That’s exciting,” Alex called out from the bathroom. He was currently changing Arthur’s diaper while the parents prepared dinner. “I assume you two have placed your bets?”

“If he calls me ‘papa’ first, I win. If he calls her ‘mama’ first, she wins,” James explained. “Loser has to do the dishes for a week,” he said smugly.

“I see,” Alex chuckled as he finished changing the diaper. “Alright, nice and clean. Doesn’t that feel so much better, little Art?”

“Gaga,” Arthur babbled, reaching for one of his toys.

“Of course,” Alex chuckled, “here you go, little guy.”

Arthur eagerly grabbed the toy, then happily babbled, “mama!”

Alex froze.

He waited for James or Elizabeth to come storming in, but several seconds passed without their comment. Apparently they hadn’t heard Arthur’s first words.

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

Alex warily eyed Arthur, who had gone back to babbling nonsense.

…perhaps he had misheard.

“Art’s clean now,” he said, bringing the baby into the kitchen. “Need help with anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Elizabeth said as she set a crock of steaming stew on the table. “Just put Arthur back in his cradle; I’ll nurse him in a moment.”

Alex opened his mouth to reply, but Arthur chose at that moment to interrupt.

“Mama.”

James and Elizabeth froze.

Alex winced, and slowly glanced down at baby Art.

“Mama!” he said, very clearly raising his arms at Alex.

“Ah,” Alex said.

“Shit,” James swore, then turned to Liz. “Does this mean we both have to do the chores?”

“Well, I guess it’s not too surprising, considering how much time you’ve spent around him,” Elizabeth said as Alex placed Arthur in his cradle.

“Sorry,” Alex said, adjusting his glasses awkwardly.

“Don’t worry about it,” James said good-naturedly. “At least we can still look forward to his first…steps?”

Alex and Elizabeth followed James’ line of sight to see Arthur standing up in his cradle, walking towards his mother.

“Good job!” his parents simultaneously cheered, though they had to catch Arthur just before he toppled over.

“First words and first steps on the same day!” James proudly announced as he hoisted Arthur up into the air. “That’s my boy!”

“Dear, put him down now-” Elizabeth said hurriedly – but she was too late. Just as she voiced her warning, a deluge of half-digested baby food poured out of Arthur’s mouth and directly onto his father’s face.

3 years later, 951/03/03

“Pryce, long time no see,” Caldwell said, shaking his hand. “I…heard about your father, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Pryce sighed. “It’s been a few years anyway, and I’m glad to have you back. How was Vestige?”

“Great,” Caldwell said, smiling. “It's a beautiful city, though if I’m being honest their labs left something to be desired. Mind catching me up on current events?”

“Sure,” Pryce shrugged. “We’ve been making steady progress, but nothing extraordinary,” he said, waving at a table full of petri dishes. “These are samples from a batch of volunteers we gathered up; we’re currently trying to see how sickness affects the antimicrobial effects of nasal fluid.”

“That doesn’t sound easy,” Caldwell commented. “How are you controlling for the type and severity of illness?”

“For type we simply provided a free diagnosis, and for severity we offered a survey. Of course, in practice the data is rather messy, but when is it not?” Pryce asked, then paused as he peered at the petri dishes. “Oh. That’s funny.”

“What is it?” Caldwell asked. “Huh, that one’s quite moldy.”

“It is,” Pryce agreed, slowly.

“I guess it can’t be helped,” Caldwell shrugged. “Some contamination always gets in, right?”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Pryce said with growing excitement, and pointed at the distinct line between the bacterial colony and the mycelium with a trembling finger. “There’s no bacteria on the mold.”

“I don’t see how-” Caldwell trailed off, then his eyes widened. “Oh.”

1 year later, 952/04/06

“Hi Uncle Alex!” Arthur greeted as he ran towards his godfather.

“Hey there, Art,” Alex said, crouching down to receive him in a hug. “Have you been a good boy?”

“Yeah! Papa gave me a new toy!” Arthur said, proudly holding up a nostalgic old device.

“Wow,” Alex said, “do you know what the parts are called?”

“Uh-huh! Papa’s teaching me!”

“Of course he is,” Alex said as he affectionately ruffled his godson’s hair. “Now, where are your parents?”

“Over here!” came James’ voice from the kitchen. “How’re things at the lab?”

“Slow and steady,” Alex sighed, which had become his typical answer ever since no important developments had occurred regarding the antibiotic. They were able to prove that the fungi produced some kind of bacterial inhibitor, but no one was interested in funding it because it ‘lacked promise’, especially when they couldn’t isolate it.. “I see you found an old toy for Arthur,” Alex said, repressing his workplace frustrations.

“Yep! Found it while digging through some old things. It took some fixing up, but Arthur loved playing with it,” James said, beaming with pride. “Anyway, are you ready for the movie? I hear it’s really something.”

“I’m ready to leave whenever you are, and yes – Caldwell’s been going off about it as well,” Alex chuckled. “He’s treating it like it’s the second coming of Naruna.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see about that, won’t we?” Elizabeth said, scooping Arthur up in her arms. “I’ll be in the car when you two are ready.”

----------------------------------------

“Wow, that was amazing!” James exclaimed as they left the theater. “I can’t believe they made a whole animated movie! Just one of those frames would’ve been enough work; I can’t imagine how long it took to draw all of them.”

“Three years and almost two hundred thousand frames,” Alex said, reciting the number from Caldwell’s ravings.

“It really was something,” Elizabeth sighed. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Arthur had fallen asleep shortly after the movie had begun, and had to be carried out by his mother. “It really makes you wonder what’s in store for the future.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked.

“Well, movies have more or less replaced plays,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Perhaps one day everything will be animated, or at least they’d likely be quite common.”

“Really?” James asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow. “I don’t see how that could be possible. Animated movies are just too much work. Someone still has to draw each frame, no matter how much technology improves.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “People have said similar things about movies.”

“I suppose there’s no way for us to know, at least not until we're old and wrinkly,” Alex chuckled.

“Who knows? Maybe by then you’ll even be married,” James teased, then dodged a playful jab at his shoulder. “Too slow!” he taunted, then broke into a run as Alex began chasing him.

“Don’t take too long, our reservation is in half an hour!” Elizabeth called out after them. “Ugh. Don’t be so silly when you grow up, alright, Art?”

“Mmm,” Arthur mumbled, still half-asleep.

2 months later, 952/06/14

“Alex!” James exclaimed as Alex opened the door. “Did you hear?!”

“I did! Where-”

“-Look, on TV!”

Alex turned to stare at the black and white television, which was tuned into the local news channel.

And there, in black and white, was the clear and unmistakable image of another island.

“Holy hell,” Alex breathed.

“I know!” James agreed enthusiastically. “The Longshot program finally succeeded!”

Alex was about to voice his own excitement when Elizabeth walked into the room, with Arthur following closely behind her. “What is that?” the child asked, drawn by the commotion.

“See that? That’s another island,” James explained, picking Arthur up. “That’s a place that no one else has been to before, isn’t it exciting?”

Arthur stared wide-eyed in amazement at the television, the 5-year-old clearly transfixed by the fuzzy image. “Are there dinosaurs there?”

“Maybe!” James laughed.

“Really? When can I go?”

James’ laughter abruptly died, and he seemed to realize that ‘when’ was indeed more accurate than ‘if’. After all, finding the continent was half the difficulty. “Maybe when you’re older,” James conceded. “But only if you study hard!”

“I wanna see Alectosaurus! And Archaeoceratops! And Gobisaurus!” Arthur cheered, apparently not having heard this condition.

“Alright alright, I’m sure you will,” James said, and set Arthur back down.

“Do we know how big it is?” Elizabeth asked.

“About four thousand kilometers long,” James answered. “Not huge, but there’s quite a bit of coastline. Most of it is further south than the Mainland as well, which means no hurricanes thanks to the coriolis effect-”

Elizabeth groaned. “I keep telling you, that tiny amount of force isn’t going to magically keep the equator free from hurricanes.”

“I think it will,” James said, undeterred. “Alex agrees with me, right Alex?”

“No comment,” Alex said, resisting the urge to smile.

“Coward,” James grumbled. “Anyway, If I had to guess, it’s prime real estate.”

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously considering going there,” Elizabeth said in appalled tones.

“I won’t be on the first ship, I’m not crazy,” James said, hands raised defensively. “Now, second or third? That sounds a lot more - ow! I was joking!”

6 months later, 953/01/10

“We got it!” Alex announced as he burst through the door.

“Got what?” James said, confused. Then he blinked as he processed what Alex had said. “Wait, you mean you isolated the inhibitor?!”

“Yes! And I named it ‘penicillin’,” Alex said excitedly. “Caldwell had the idea to use something he called reverse extraction to recover the penicillin from the solvent, giving us a water solution rich with penicillin! From there we just needed to freeze-dry it to get a powder!”

“That’s amazing!” James cheered.

“I know! We just sent a sample for x-ray crystallography, and we should get the results in a few days. Now they have to give us a grant!”

Two days later, 953/01/12

“They're not giving us any grants,” Alex sighed.

“Of course they aren’t,” James snorted. “What was their reasoning now?”

“Let me guess,” Elizabeth said, Elizabeth said, adopting a mock aristocratic tone. “‘As penicillin has yet to go through any clinical trials, we regret to inform you that we cannot afford to invest in this venture at this time’.”

“That’s…almost verbatim,” Alex said, a little surprised. “Though they weren’t quite so polite.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Administrators all talk in the same way. My colleagues and I run into the same problems. You just have to keep trying.”

“I know,” Alex sighed. “Though I hope it won’t take them much longer to see reason.”

2 years later, 954/11/19

“Phone call for Doctor Pryce,” the secretary announced.

Pryce frowned, finding it odd that someone would call him at this hour. Elizabeth and James both knew he was staying late at the lab today, and they had gone to celebrate their anniversary, so it seemed unlikely that they’d be the ones calling him. Mrs. Wright was looking after Arthur, maybe she needed help with something? But then where was her husband?

“Any idea what that’s about?” Caldwell asked.

“No…” Pryce said uncertainly, and followed the secretary back to the telephone. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Doctor Pryce?” came an unfamiliar voice.

Pryce cleared his throat, and hoped nothing terrible had happened. “Yes, speaking.”

“I work at the Concordia hospital as a nurse, and I have your name listed as an emergency contact for a James and Elizabeth Wright, is that correct?”

“That…is correct, yes,” Pryce managed. A terrible feeling was welling in his gut, and he only barely stopped himself from demanding what happened.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but they were involved in a vehicular accident.”

----------------------------------------

The train ride to the hospital was the longest Alex had ever taken. He sprinted out the doors the moment they opened, nearly knocking several people over. He ignored their indignant insults, and kept running until he reached the hospital several minutes later.

“James, Wright,” he said to the receptionist, heaving between words.

“292A, his wife is in the neighboring room-”

Pryce didn’t stay to hear the rest, and immediately bolted straight towards what he recognized as an emergency room. He flew down familiar hallways and corridors, feeling wretchedly sick in every sense of the word. He skidded to a stop at his destination, nearly slamming into an old colleague of his.

“Pryce,” said Doctor Hart, “I recognized your name on the emergency contacts – I’m sorry. The other driver was intoxicated, he died on impact-”

“What about James?! And Elizabeth?!” Pryce snapped, panting and nearly manic with distress.

“The woman – Elizabeth – was severely injured. I’m sorry, but she died several minutes ago,” Hart said, laying a steadying hand on Alex’s shoulder.

It did nothing to help. Each word was like a knife dragging through his chest. Pryce opened his mouth, and only barely managed to ask, “...James?”

“We stopped the external bleeding, but he’s lost a lot of blood. Several of his organs were severely damaged, including his liver and lungs. He’s not going to make it.” Hart stepped aside, holding open the door. “He still has some time left, if you want to say goodbye.”

Pryce barely heard what his fellow doctor said, and numbly pushed past him to see his friend for himself.

The beeping of an EKG. The glint of bloodstained surgical tools. These were all things he had seen countless times before, but they did not prepare him for the sight of James lying in the middle of it all. Alex could barely even recognize his friend; James’ bright, usually-smiling face was covered in bruises and bandages, and his singular unswollen eye blinked blearily in recognition as Alex stepped towards him.

“James?” Alex asked hoarsely.

“Al…lex,” James managed before coughing wetly, forcing blood up and out his mouth.

Alex opened his mouth to say something, anything.

But nothing came out.

“L…Liz?” James wheezed, each syllable sounding as if it took every ounce of effort he had to muster.

“She’s…she didn’t make it,” Alex choked, his vision blurring. “James, I-” he tried to say, but was interrupted by his brother’s rasp.

“Ar…thur,” James managed, before a coughing fit interrupted him. More blood splattered across his chest, but even so he raised a bandaged arm to grip Alex’s wrist with shocking force.

“I’ll look after him, I p-promise,” Alex managed, firmly gripping him back. “I promise.”

James relaxed his grasp, and looked at Alex with his one good eye. “I…know…” he wheezed, quietly, so quietly. The dying man gave one last gasp, his mouth working, still clearly trying to speak – but the words never came, and with one final, rattling sigh, his eyelids slid shut for the last time in his life.

“No no no,” Alex said, his voice cracking as he clutched his friend, his brother, as if that could do a thing to counter death. Faintly, he became aware of an electronic ringing noise.

The EKG had flatlined.

Suddenly, there was a noise behind him, and through tear-filled eyes he saw Mrs. Wright standing in the doorway, her mouth covered in horror.

----------------------------------------

“Go home and rest, Alex,” Mr. Wright said, his voice raw with grief. I’ll take care of Arthur.”

“No,” Alex rasped. Mrs. Wright was still at the hospital, filling out paperwork. This was the least he could do. “I’ll talk to him.”

“You don’t have to do this, son.”

“Yes, I do,” Alex said, undeterred. “I made a promise.”

Gerson sighed, but rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll do it together, then.”

Alex nodded, unable to argue.

They had spent hours in the hospital, and Arthur had long since gone to sleep by the time they’d returned home.

“Hey, Arthur?” Alex said, opening the door to his godson’s bedroom. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm?” Arthur murmured, blinking blearily as he sat up. “Uncle Alex? Grandpa? Why’d you wake me up?” he asked, a little peevishly. “It’s still dark outside.”

The casual irritation caught Alex off-guard, and for a moment he nearly wished to leave, if only for the child to live in blissful ignorance for just one night longer, to pretend that his parents were still alive and well…but no, it was too late for that. Arthur was a clever boy, and he had already noticed something was wrong.

“Arthur, there’s something important we need to tell you,” Gerson said as he sat down upon a chair. The normally straight-backed man now sat with a hunch, and Alex could not help but notice how old he seemed. “You know your mother and father went to celebrate their anniversary, right?”

“They told me that before they left,” Arthur said, rubbing his eyes in confusion. “I wanted to come with, but they said the anniversary was just for them,” he grumbled with a pout.

Gerson paused at this, his lips pressed into a thin line as he considered what next to say.

“Your mother and father had an…accident on the way to the restaurant,” Alex said gently. Arthur blinked, uncomprehending, and Alex took Gerson’s silence as permission to continue. “The ambulance took them to the hospital, but they died a few hours ago.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, frowning. “Like Tommy’s dad?”

“Yes, like Tommy’s dad,” Alex, his voice breaking.

“So…mom and dad aren’t coming back?” Arthur asked, his voice straining a little.

“No…they’re not coming back,” Gerson said, tears running anew down his face. “I’m so sorry, my boy.”

“But…mom and dad were okay before they left,” Arthur said, sounding more confused than grieved. “And dad said he was going to teach me more math tomorrow.”

“I know,” Alex said, and swept his godson up into a tight embrace. “I know.”

“I don’t wanna not see them again,” Arthur said as he finally began to cry. “I…I…”

Gerson leaned forward, gently hugging the both of them even as he began to cry.

Together, they all mourned the family that had so suddenly been ripped away from them.

One week later, 954/11/26

Knock knock knock

Pryce tiredly rolled out of bed to answer the door. He wasn’t expecting anything or anyone, and had no idea what this could be about.

He opened the door and winced as the sun blinded him. It took a few seconds for his watering eyes to adjust, and when they did he saw a deliveryman standing in front of him.

“Delivery for Alexander Pryce,” the man said.

“That’s me,” Pryce said, his voice cracking under the light strain.

“Sign here.”

Pryce numbly signed the document and accepted the parcel. It seemed rather professionally packaged, though the sender’s name was completely unfamiliar to him. He numbly bid the man farewell, and sat down in his living room to stare at the package.

Eventually he decided to get it over with, and began cutting open the packaging. First came the tape, and the box opened up to reveal a smaller, more refined box inside, with a handwritten note taped onto the lid.

Greetings Doctor Pryce,

My name is Randal Blair; I am a jeweler who was commissioned by Mr. James Wright before his untimely death. I used the contact information he left behind to speak with Mr. Gerson Wright, who recommended that I send this item directly to you.

You have my utmost condolences, and I hope the item is to your satisfaction.

–R. Blair

Pryce set the letter aside, and with trembling hands, he lifted the lid.

Inside the package sat what was unmistakably a chronometer, though not any version that Pryce could recognize. On the front, words could be seen engraved in cursive.

Mk. 10

Wright Marine Chronometer

Gently, Pryce reached into the box and picked up the device. Flipping it over, he saw more text engraved upon the backside.

For A. Pryce

Pryce held the stainless steel device for a long time. Then, he clutched it close to his chest, and cried.

2 months later, 955/01/20

“Alright everyone, I’m happy to announce that we’ve received the grant from Layton,” Doctor Ainsley said, causing excited murmurs to run through the assembled researchers. “In other words, overtime requests will be welcomed for the next month or so. Any questions? No? Alright, let’s get back to work! Ah, Pryce, I’d like to have a word in my office, if you would.”

“Yes?” Pryce asked, closing the door behind him.

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble,” Ainsley said, smiling. “I just wanted to tell you that you’ve been an invaluable asset to our team, and your work ethic is beyond reproach.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’m just glad that we have the funding to finally speed things along,” Ainsley said, leaning back in his chair. “Now we’ll finally see some real work done.”

“Yes, about that…” Pryce said, adjusting his glasses awkwardly. “I know I’ve pushed for overtime in the past, but there have been some…familial developments since then. I’m afraid I won’t be able to take much overtime, if any at all.”

Ainsley blinked. “I see. Well, family does come first, but no one understands Penicillin as well as you do, Pryce, and certainly not the synthesis of the thing.”

“I…am aware,” Pryce said slowly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be working harder than ever. I just need time outside of the standard work hours for personal matters.”

“Of course,” Ainsley said, crossing his arms. “I can’t force you to do anything, but do remember what’s at stake.”

“Trust me,” Pryce sighed. “I know.”

“Just so long as you don’t forget it,” Ainsley said, adjusting his glasses as he returned to the documents on his desk. “And let me know if you change your mind.”

----------------------------------------

Pryce stopped by the library on the way home from work, picking up a new batch of books for Arthur to read.

“I’m home!” Alex said as he stepped through the front door, and greeted Arthur with an enthusiastic hug. “Hey Art, ready for the trip tomorrow?”

“Uh-huh!” Arthur said, nodding excitedly.

“Good. How was school?” Alex asked.

“Boooring,” Arthur grumbled, making Alex chuckle. “The teachers keep talking about things dad already taught me.” The child looked down, momentarily saddened by the mention of his father.

“Well, that just means he did a good job teaching, and you did a good job learning,” Alex said, trying to cheer him up.

“Mmm,” Arthur said, noncommittally, but smiled as Alex patted him on the head. The boy was remarkably intelligent for a child of his age, but Alex still wasn’t quite sure if his godson had properly processed the death of his parents or not.

“...since you finished those books so quickly, I thought I’d get you some more,” Alex grinned, lifting up the bag of books he’d borrowed from the local library.

“More books!” Arthur cheered. “Did you find any books about the new continent?”

“...Yes, but they’re not very detailed,” Alex warned, “no one’s been there yet, so no one really knows anything about them.”

“That’s okay, I want to read about them anyway!” Arthur said excitedly. “Can we start now?”

“No, we have to help grandma prepare dinner first, remember?” Alex asked, causing Arthur to groan. “...but I did get you something.”

Alex unrolled a scroll of paper from his bag, and revealed a large poster-sized version of the famous image obtained by Longshot 8.

“Wow! Awesome!” Arthur exclaimed, and grabbed the offered poster to pore over the not-quite-existent details. “Can I keep it?”

“Of course,” Alex said, smiling. “Come on, I’ll help you hang it up in your room, then we can go make supper.”

Arthur had dashed away before he had even finished his sentence, though he soon bolted back to coax his uncle to hurry up. Alex chuckled as he picked up his bags, his heart warmed by the boy’s boundless enthusiasm.

It still pained him terribly to walk through these hallways without James or Elizabeth around. He wasn’t sure if that feeling would ever fade, or if he even wanted it to – after all, the pain served as a reminder of his promise, and he was resolved to do everything in his power to keep it.

One day later, 955/02/21

“Wow!” Arthur exclaimed as he ran towards the ocean, stopping only when Alex called for him to stop. The eight-year-old boy stood upon the shoreline, amazed by the endless expanse of water.

Until the waves lapped at his feet, causing him to run away in panic.

“Remember what I told you?” Alex asked. “Don’t go too far, alright? The ocean is dangerous, and you don’t know how to swim yet.”

“Okay,” Arthur said, warily eyeing the ocean.

“Here, I brought a compass and a map,” Alex said, catching the young boy’s attention. “That way’s north,” he said, pointing along the shoreline. “And that way’s west, which means if you could go in a straight line-”

“You’d hit land,” Arthur finished, and peered at the horizon, as if he hoped to see the mysterious continent.

“You won’t be able to see it,” Pryce chuckled, and hoisted Arthur onto his shoulders to give him a better view. “The Earth is round, which means you can only see about 6 kilometers, but the closest continent is about eight thousand kilometers away.”

“That’s so far,” Arthur grumbled. “...uncle Alex? Do you want to go explore the other islands?”

“I am curious to see what’s there,” Alex admitted, “but there are a lot of people who are smarter and braver than me who’d want to go first. I definitely wouldn’t be on the first ship, and besides, I don’t want to leave you behind.”

“Then we could go together!” Arthur insisted, his eyes shining brightly at the idea.

Pryce smiled sadly at his enthusiasm, which so closely resembled his father’s. “...you said something like that when you were little, though you probably don’t remember it.”

“I did?” Arthur asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Yes, you did. Your father said you’d have to wait until you grew up.”

“But that’ll take forever!” Arthur whined.

“It’s only another eight years,” Alex pointed out. “How about this, you study extra hard, and the sooner you graduate the sooner we’ll go exploring together, alright?”

“Hmm,” Arthur hummed, considering this offer. “Do you promise?” he asked.

“I promise.”

“...shake on it?”

“Well…if you insist,” Alex dramatically sighed, and formally shook Arthur’s offered hand – at least, as formally as he could while crouching down to the height of the eight-year-old boy.

“Done!” Arthur cheered. “Now help me build a sandcastle!”

“Of course,” Alex chuckled. “I’ll get the shovels.”

2 years later, 957/01/23

> Deadly new disease found in the inhabitants of Auster!

> (957/01/23)

>

> Hundreds of Concordia hospital’s patients are currently infected with an unknown illness, with cases spreading through the city like wildfire. Experts have tentatively identified an anonymous patient admitted to the hospital on 957/01/09 as patient zero, but the true origin of this sickness remains unknown.

>

> The hospital has refused to identify patient zero, but officials have stated that this individual is still alive, despite the fact that several other afflicted patients are now confirmed to be deceased. Experts state that more data is required to estimate the danger that this disease poses to the public, but it should be noted that even now, two weeks after the first infections, that there are yet to be any patients who have recovered from this illness.

>

> Cases of the disease appear to be isolated to Auster, with some experts suggesting the travel between cities be restricted until the disease has been properly identified. Mayor Freeman has expressed that he is considering such a decision, a statement which has drawn much criticism from the local populace.

Alex set the newspaper down upon the table, his face set in a grim expression. He had heard news of the disease a week ago from his old colleagues, but at the time it only seemed to be an oddly serious cold. Now, with none of the patients making a recovery, people were starting to panic.

“Gerson, Mrs. Wright, I think you should take Arthur to Arkouda.”

“What? But why?” Mrs. Wright asked. “It’s so far away, and Arthur is just getting settled at school.”

Alex laid the newspaper on the table.

“It sounds like it’s just like a cold to me,” Gerson huffed skeptically. “What’s the big deal?”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Alex said seriously. “The normal time it takes for someone to recover from the common cold is seven to ten days. It has been two weeks since the first infections, and not a single person has recovered.”

“Seems a bit early to panic, isn’t it?” Mr. Wright asked.

“Think of it as a vacation,” Alex said. “You always wanted to take Arthur to see Arkouda, right? Stay there for a month, and if the disease turns out to be nothing then great, but if not then you’ll be much safer in a small city like Arkouda.”

“You’ll be much safer?” Gerson asked, “if you’re so worried then why aren’t you coming with us?”

“Auster has the best labs in the world. I can’t leave before we finish our research, not when we might be seeing the start of a new plague. Look here,” Alex said, underlining a line in the newspaper. “They’re already considering travel restrictions. You’ll need to leave while you can, before they start shutting down the city.”

“Alex, I really don’t think this is necessary.”

“I’m a doctor, and I think it is,” Alex said, refusing to concede. Gerson opened his mouth to respond, but just then the front door opened – Mrs. Wright had brought Arthur back home from school.

“Well…I have been meaning to visit some of my nieces and nephews,” Mrs. Wright said thoughtfully when Alex explained the situation to them. “Arthur is ahead of his classes, so I suppose a little vacation couldn’t hurt.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Arthur asked with a quavering voice. “You’re not going to die, are you?”

Alex froze. He crouched down to speak with Arthur, but the young boy’s terrified eyes broke his heart so badly that he nearly changed his mind. “I…have to stay to do important things,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “What I’m doing at work will save many people if things get bad.”

“So it is dangerous,” Arthur accused, his eyes brimming with tears.

Alex paused for a moment, then sighed. “Sometimes you need to do dangerous things to help people. Hey, don’t cry. I’ll be very careful, and it probably won’t even get that bad anyway.”

“Stop lying to me!” Arthur suddenly shouted, and ran off to his room.

“What’s gotten into that boy?” Gerson huffed. “I’ll have a word with him.”

“No, leave him be,” Alex said, his expression downcast. “I didn’t consider this at all, but I should have thought of things from his perspective. He must be afraid I’ll leave him, like his parents did.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll come around,” Mrs. Wright said, and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

----------------------------------------

“Bye Arthur,” Alex said, hugging his godson before he left for Arkouda. “I’ll call every few days, but be a good boy for grandma and grandpa, okay?”

“Okay,” Arthur said, not looking him in the eyes.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” Alex said. He knew it was a stupid thing to say; it would only cause the boy to resent him if he was wrong…and yet in that moment the desire to reassure the poor boy overrode his good sense.

“Mmm,” Arthur said, clearly unconvinced.

“Here, I got you something,” Alex said, smiling.

That got Arthur’s attention, and the boy’s eyes lit up when he saw the gift.

“You got me a model rocket?” He asked in disbelief.

“It’s the one they used to get the satellite imagery,” Alex said, glad to see him happy. “That should keep you busy while you’re gone.”

“Thank you uncle Alex!” Arthur beamed before hugging him tightly.

“You’re welcome,” Alex smiled, glad that the boy was finally acting like his normal self.

They left a few minutes later, and Alex waved until the curve of the tracks carried the train out of sight. Even then he stayed, and only turned to leave when the last compartment finally slipped out of view.

It was only a short walk from the train station to the nearest bus stop, and from there Pryce headed straight to work.

1 month later, 957/02/23

> Deadly disease officially named the Pneumonic Plague!

> (957/02/23)

>

> Hospitals across the city are being overwhelmed by thousands of sick, with experts saying not to panic despite the death toll rapidly rising through the hundreds.

> The new disease has been identified to cause damage to the lungs and respiratory system. As of yet, less than 0.1% of patients have recovered enough to be discharged from the hospital.

>

> Examples of civil unrest are now widespread across the city, with the city’s already-strained infrastructure further stressed by citizens stockpiling in anticipation of future disaster. Mayor Freeman has issued a city-wide emergency lockdown, a decision that has been met with widespread criticism for being excessively draconian.

“No, I’m sorry, things are only getting worse,” Alex said through the telephone. “You’ll need to stay in Arkouda with grandma and grandpa until things get better.”

“I finished the model,” Arthur said quietly. “Do you know when things will get better?”

“No,” Alex said grimly. “I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you, but no one knows how things are going to unfold.”

“Okay,” Arthur mumbled sadly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Alex sighed. “I need to go now, please, tell grandma and grandpa to be careful, alright?”

“Okay, bye uncle Alex.”

Pryce hung up the telephone and returned to the break room. “Anything new?” He asked Caldwell, who was currently reading the newspaper.

“The public’s acting like a chicken with its head cut off,” Caldwell sighed, “so no, nothing new.”

“Well, at least we’re not in need of funding anymore,” Pryce sighed.

“It shouldn’t have taken a damn plague to get us the funding we need,” Caldwell mumbled, which Pryce could not disagree with. This crisis would have ended without note if they had just been given the funding they were due.

“So, how are the latest round of mice doing?” Pryce asked tiredly. He’d been steadily refining their methods for the isolation of penicillin, but the yields they produced were still pitifully low. In fact, they hadn’t even had enough for human trials yet.

“Well enough,” Caldwell sighed. “Six of the eight seem more or less recovered, the seventh is a bit lethargic, but the eighth has died. None of the data was significantly different from the previous rounds.”

They both knew that the limiting factor was the amount of penicillin they could produce. Caldwell knew Pryce and his team were working day and night trying to isolate a sizable amount of the drug, and he was kind enough not to mention their struggling productivity, even if the matter weighed heavily on all of their minds.

3 months later, 957/06/02

> Pneumonic Plague claims over one hundred thousand lives!

> [957/06/02]

>

> Cases have begun to spread to neighboring cities, including the capital cities Pyrin and Septen.

4 months later, 957/10/14

“So, how are things? Is everyone alright?” Alex asked Gerson.

“...Well enough,” was Gerson’s tired response.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked, immediately suspicious.

“Things are starting to get bad here,” Gerson admitted. “Lotta people I know are coming down with the plague. None have died yet, thank god, but it’s not looking good.”

“But you’re safe?”

“Yeah, the missus and I are fine, and so is Arthur, even if he’s a little annoyed about being cooped up all day, and he still misses his friends.”

“I see,” Pryce sighed. “Well, I have to get back to work. I’ll call again next week, alright?”

“Alright. Stay safe, my boy.”

“I will,” Pryce reassured, “just make sure you do as well.” He hung up the phone shortly after saying his farewells, then walked back into the lab to see Caldwell still working. “Staying late again?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Caldwell sighed, then paused. “...I just got news that my dad has the plague”

“Damnit,” Pryce swore. They were already working around the clock, and they’d made significant progress in the past few months, drastically increasing the yield while reducing the incubation time required by a third, but they just weren’t getting any of the breakthroughs they needed to make penicillin a viable cure. Caldwell wasn’t the first researcher in their team to report an infected relative, and at this rate he’d be far from the last.

“His condition is already pretty bad,” Caldwell sighed. “I don’t think he’s going to make it. Not unless we make a monumental breakthrough,” he said, with the same tone that one might use when wishing for pigs to fly.

Pryce opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Their continued failure had cost and would continue to cost innumerable lives, and that fact weighed heavily on them all. Tensions had risen with each passing day, with arguments being a daily occurance.

Everyone at the lab knew how ridiculously temperamental the fungi was, and getting it to grow properly at all often felt like an exercise in futility. Even in optimal conditions the yield would be too low to be of much use. They’d recently gathered enough to attempt a singular human trial on a man named Alan Woods. That trial saw miraculous improvement of the patient…at least, until they ran out of medicine.

The research conducted in the months prior had taught them that the drug was only useful when injected, but it also taught them that it remained intact in the urine. Unfortunately, even reclaiming penicillin from the urine of the patient wasn’t enough, and Mr. Woods had tragically died after a brief period of recovery.

“Nothing we can do but keep working, I suppose,” Pryce sighed.

“Yeah,” Caldwell shrugged listlessly. “Not like we can just give up now, can we?”

1 month later, 957/11/21

> Pneumonic plague claims one million lives! Could hope be on the horizon?

> [957/11/21]

>

> Researchers at the University of Auster have reportedly begun human trials of a new drug classed as an antibiotic!

>

> The drug was discovered and subsequently named penicillin in 948, but isolation remained elusive for several years. At present, interviewed doctors remain tight-lipped about the details, but they have stated that several patients have been cured by the medicine.

Pryce tiredly rubbed his eyes as he stepped off the bus. He’d long since started sleeping in his office to save time he’d otherwise spend commuting to work, but he still had to go home to shower and occasionally eat. Now he was headed back to work, and-

A clang from the alleyway drew his attention, and he turned his head to see a cat running off with some scavenged food held in its mouth. Pryce was just about to continue walking when he saw something quite unremarkable – a moldy honeymelon sat on top of an overflowing trash can.

He paused. Ainsley had been trying to acquire more strains of penicillium for months, but the new strains were only somewhat more productive. This moldy fruit had the same pale greenish tint that penicillium molds tended to have, though the odds of it being at all useful were slim to none.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to bring it back to the lab. Pryce picked up the half-rotten melon, and tried not to gag at the smell and texture as he carried it back to the lab.

10 days later, 957/11/31

“Where did you find this, again?” Ainsley asked.

“In an overflowing trash can, beside Riva’s,” Pryce answered absently. “It’s a restaurant a few blocks away from here, though I’ve never been,” he clarified, interpreting Ainsley’s silence as confusion.

“I know, I’ve been there before,” Ainsley said, and fell silent to watch as Pryce mixed the Penicillin-rich solution with a watery alkali buffer. The Penicillin-rich solution was acidic, and by adding an alkali buffer it allowed the penicillin to sink into the neutral or alkaline layer, where it could then be drawn out by a spout.

Normally the watery layer was perfectly clear, but this time the layer was milky. Pryce wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not, but at least it was different.

“Moment of truth,” Pryce said, and connected a flask of the watery-penicillin-rich-alkali solution and connected it to a vacuum pump. Pryce and his colleagues watched the solution bubble away in the vacuum. Over the course of several minutes more and more water left the flask, gradually turning the liquid into a brown, gunky residue.

“By the Twins,” Caldwell breathed. “Is that…Is this it?”

“I’ll contact the hospital,” Ainsley said, stepping away in haste, “Pryce, start growing more, now. Caldwell, get started on testing the mice.”

“Understood,” Pryce and Caldwell said in unison, and quickly began issuing orders to the rest of the researchers.

3 days later, 957/11/34

The penicillin isolated from this new strain of fungi – which had been tentatively identified as chrysogenum – proved to be just as effective at curing the mice as the original strain, even slightly outperforming the old strain in animal trials.

Under normal circumstances the penicillin produced by chrysogenum would have undergone much more strenuous testing before being used on humans, but the severity of the plague forced the hospitals to defy procedure by starting human trials before the mice had even made a full recovery.

Now, they all anxiously waited for the news, even as they worked to grow as much as they possibly could. There was only so much they could do, however, as the mold would take at least ten days to reach optimal yield – assuming it was no different from the previous strains in that regard.

Their work was interrupted when Ainsley stepped out of his office, the simple act earning the undivided attention of everyone in the room. “Four of the ten treated patients are set to be discharged tomorrow,” he announced without preamble, causing an explosion of celebration to ring throughout the lab-turned-mold factory. “The other five have greatly improved, though the last died an hour ago,” he continued, cutting the celebration short. “The doctors believe he was too far gone for the treatment to be effective.”

“You mean…” Caldwell said, trailing off uncertainly.

“We have a viable cure,” Ainsley nodded.

“Well, what are we standing around for?” Caldwell cheered. “Let’s get back to work! We have a cure to make!”

Pryce smiled as they all returned to work with renewed vigor, finally they could-

“Pryce, a word,” Ainsley said, and led him to his office.

“What is it?” Pryce asked impatiently as he closed the door behind him. Ainsley knew as well as he did that time was of the essence, what could possibly be so urgent that they’d need to have a private conversation?

“...you’re quite close with the Wright family, correct?” Ainsley asked, hesitantly, but did not wait for an answer. “Well, there’s no easy way to say this, but Margrit, Gerson, and Arthur Wright were admitted to Arkouda hospital two days ago; they have the plague.”

Pryce froze, his heart skipped a beat. “...what? No no no, that can’t be right, I spoke with them less than a week ago, and the hospital would have notified me-”

“They did try to contact you, but you were busy, so I took the message,” Ainsley said, cutting him off, “I got the call from Arkouda hospital just an hour ago, right before I received word from Concordia about penicillin.” Ainsley leaned forward, with Pryce clinging onto his every word. “The child isn’t too badly sick yet, but the grandparents aren’t doing well. I’m sorry, but that’s all that I know.”

Pryce was only faintly aware of what Ainsley was saying – his mind was afire with questions – how could they have gotten sick so quickly? What was their condition? How long would it take to deliver penicillin to their Arkouda hospital? Could they receive penicillin? A new batch of the drug would take another seven days to make at minimum, was there even enough time? And more importantly-

“Can we send any penicillin to Arkouda?” Pryce asked, his face set in stone.

“Officially, no,” Ainsley sighed. “As I’m sure you know, the government is responsible for much of our current funding, and they expect that everything we produce gets sent to Concordia, for obvious reasons.”

“Of course,” Pryce groaned, and tightly gripped the backrest of a chair. Concordia was close, and second only in size to Grace hospital in Pyrin. It was a very sensible decision, but now Pryce was recalling his decision to send the Wright family to Arkouda with horror. “...what did you mean by ‘officially’?” he asked, faintly.

“...this doesn’t leave the office, alright?” Ainsley said. When Pryce nodded, he continued. “Unofficially, I can pull some favors to send Arkouda some of the next batch that we make. It’ll be just enough to include the Wright family in the first human trials.”

“...but?” Pryce asked, warily.

“No buts,” Ainsley sighed, shaking his head. “Consider this an apology. If I’d listened to you all those years ago then we wouldn’t be in this mess. This is the least I could do.” He paused, then added, “I did the same for Caldwell, though that was easier considering his father’s at Concordia.”

Pryce paused – Caldwell’s sudden exuberance suddenly made much more sense. “I…don’t know what to say,” he finally said.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Ainsley said, waving him off. “Just get back to work.”

Pryce paused, then nodded resolutely. There was still a long time before the Wright family would get the treatment they needed, but the offer had eased much of the dread in his heart, replacing it with cold determination.

He opened the door to leave the office, but then he paused. “I’m sorry to ask more, but…there’s no way for me to get to Arkouda, is there?”

“There is not,” Ainsley said firmly. “You know there’s a complete lockdown in place. Only essential personnel are allowed passage between cities.”

“Of course,” Pryce nodded, not expecting otherwise. It was a foolish idea anyway – there was nothing he could do at Arkouda other than comfort his dying family, and he knew the only way to help them was to stay here and do his job, unless… “Could you relay a message for me?”

“That won’t be easy,” Ainsley sighed. “The hospital is too overworked to be relaying messages between the quarantined and their family, but I’ll see that it’s done.”

“Thank you,” Pryce said gratefully, and drew a pen and notepad out of his pockets to write a message. He had much to say to the three of them, but when the moment came to put pen to paper his mind suddenly became blank. It took him a full minute to manage an awkward note which he gave to Ainsley.

> To Gerson and Margrit:

>

> I’m working as fast as I can.

>

> Hold on, just a little longer.

>

> To Arthur Wright:

>

> I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long, but I’m almost finished with my work.

>

> I promise I’ll be there when you get better, so please, hold on just a little longer.

----------------------------------------

Despite his exhaustion Pryce found sleep to be a virtual impossibility. He’d been well aware of the worsening situation across the land, and particularly in Arkouda, and in some corner of his mind he’d been half-expecting the news, even if he hoped against that outcome with all his heart.

Still, even those expectations did little to prepare him for this worst-case outcome; his family in deteriorating condition, several thousand kilometers away, and at least a week away from receiving treatment. Pryce could not help but feel deeply responsible for sending them away to Arkouda, even as he logically knew that they likely would have fallen ill far sooner if they had stayed in Auster.

But he knew fretting over things did nothing to help, so Pryce threw himself into his work and fell into a hellish cycle.

Before dawn broke, he’d drag himself out of his office to check on the progression of the mold-broth.

In the morning he’d refresh himself on the results of yesterday’s experiments before ordering new ones for the other researchers to do.

By lunch he’d occupy himself with filling out the paperwork required to purchase more equipment, all the while dreading Ainsley’s often frustratingly ambiguous update on the Wright family.

In the afternoon he’d check on the experiments, and make corrections if needed.

In the evening he’d analyze the results, then collaborate with Caldwell on iteratively adjusting the procedure for future batches of penicillin.

At night he’d calculate various projections regarding the production rate of penicillin before inevitably falling into a fitful sleep on his office room cot.

The days inched past, slow and interminable even as they blurred together, with the creeping dread of his family’s worsening condition being the only sign of change from day to day.

All the way until they sent the first batch of medicine to Arkouda.

“Have you heard any updates from the hospital?” Pryce asked Ainsley. It had been a question he’d asked every day since Ainsley had told him about his family’s hospitalization, and every day he feared what the response would be.

Ainsley sighed, and Pryce felt his heart catch in his throat. “I’m sorry, but Margrit Wright passed away earlier this morning, and the other two have entered critical condition. Arkouda will receive the medicine by the end of the day, but you should be prepared for the worst.”

“...I see,” Pryce said, his voice tight with emotion. Mrs. Wright had been like a mother to him after his own had died, and Pryce struggled to believe that she was dead, and that he could have-

“Are you sure there’s no way for me to get to Arkouda?” Pryce pressed.

“A hundred percent,” Ainsley said, shaking his head. “There’s a complete lockdown between cities. No transportation except for authorized personnel, which you are not.”

“...I understand,” Pryce said tiredly, and left to prepare the next batch of penicillin.

One week later, 957/12/05

Pryce was in the process of ordering more phosphoric acid when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Pryce said. He looked up from his papers to see Ainsley standing in the doorway. “H-how did the trials go?” he asked, his voice cracking from his dry throat.

Ainsley said nothing, and instead pulled up a seat to look Pryce in the eyes. “I’m sorry. The antibiotics appeared to have an effect on Mr. Wright, but his body was in no condition to fight off the infection. He passed away last night.”

Pryce stared blankly at Ainsley, then gradually lowered his head to stare blankly at his paperwork. “I see,” he said hoarsely. “But Arthur…?”

“He didn’t make it either,” Ainsley said, sighing heavily. “The boy appeared to have an…anaphylactic reaction to the medicine, despite the fact that the nurses gave him an appropriately low dose. It likely would not have been fatal, but his body was already weakened by the plague, and…” Ainsley paused, evidently unsure of what to say.

Pryce wasn’t sure what to think, or even what to feel.

Arthur had…died?

Arthur had died. And so had Gerson. And so had Margrit.

They had all died. Alone, in a hospital, and in pain.

And yet…nothing had changed.

He still had a job to do. There was still medicine to make, lives to save. He could not stop now, not for anything.

“I understand,” Pryce said, feeling as if his voice were not his own. He felt oddly hollow, now, and very tired. “Did you read the letter I left in your office this morning?”

“The one about purchasing glucose from Greenpath instead of Frost Industries?” Ainsley asked, surprised. “What about it?”

“Will you give your approval?”

“I…suppose, but-”

“Good, I need to know if we’re going to have enough glucose to handle the increased production,” Pryce said, returning to his paperwork. “We have enough to last some time, but we’ll need to switch to another supplier before it becomes a problem.”

“...of course,” Ainsley said, and stood up to leave. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Of course,” Pryce said, and moved on to his next task.

Three months later, 958/02/01

> Prime Minster Bolton officially ends nationwide lockdown!

> (958/02/01)

>

> The discovery and subsequent isolation of Penicillin have finally put an end to the deadly plague, which to date has claimed the lives of over 1.2 million citizens. At present, hospitals across the land report a combined daily average of less than ten deaths per day, compared to the peak of thousands reported three months ago.

>

> However, the danger is not over yet; nearly all hospitals remain over-capacity despite the good news, and the miracle drug remains in relatively short supply, but experts say that the projected rates of production will completely eliminate the plague within the next one or two months.

Cheers echoed throughout the lab as Caldwell passed the newspaper around, loud enough that he was certain anyone in the building had clearly heard it.

“Where’s Pryce?” he asked McDonnel – one of the researchers who had transferred to the lab shortly before his own temporary departure.

“Doctor Pryce? Usually he’s ordering people around, but some days I barely even see him,” McDonnel said, his brows furrowed in thought. “He doesn’t seem to be around, so my guess is he’s still in his office.”

“Pryce! Did you hear? The lockdown’s over!” Caldwell said, poking his head through the door. He froze as he saw the face of his old coworker, who seemed to have aged years in the months since they’d last seen each other.

Dark bags hung heavily under his eyes, and his face was long and drawn. His hair, once trimmed short, had grown long and unkempt, and even from a distance Caldwell could see strands of white among his normally black hair.

“Caldwell, you’re back,” Pryce said, sounding as tired as the bags under his eyes. “So they ended the lockdown, did they? How unfortunate,” he sighed, and shifted some papers around to begin working on another stack that occupied his desk.

“What…do you mean?” Caldwell asked, confused by his reaction. “The number of sick-”

“Has not yet fallen to acceptable levels,” Pryce said, quietly but with authority. “They should have waited another month. That’s when we’ll have enough to treat everyone.”

“But we’ll be able to treat them anyway, even if we take the ending of the lockdown into account,” Caldwell said, somewhat confused and a little concerned at Pryce’s odd behavior. “We saved millions of lives! Aren’t you a little happy about that?” he asked, waving his hands around emphatically.

“I am,” Pryce said, with nothing in his tone to indicate any emotion. “But it’s safer to be cautious – I trust you’ve heard that a research team in Northfield has already found a strain of Y. pestis that’s slightly resistant to penicillin? The rate that it’s adapting at means it’s only a matter of time before it becomes fully resistant.”

“Please, disease doesn’t change that quickly,” Caldwell snorted. “I read that paper, that strain was only slightly more resistant – it’ll be years before it’ll be a problem at the very worst.”

“That is likely, yes,” Pryce agreed. “But are you willing to take that risk? Even if it doesn’t, some people are allergic to penicillin.”

“That’s less than one percent, and serious cases are even rarer. I’d hardly say that’s anything to worry about,” Caldwell scoffed, waving off his concerns.

Caldwell had noticed that Pryce seemed a little absent up until this point, but Caldwell was surprised when the gaze of his peer suddenly sharpened.

“...it is not an insignificant demographic,” Pryce said, slowly and with deliberate intent. “There’s still more work to be done either way, like finding a new antibiotic that will work against gram-negative bacteria. The fact that we found something effective against the gram-positive Y. pestis at all was nothing but blind luck.”

“Caldwell, there you are,” Ainsley said, interrupting their conversation before tensions could rise any further. “Did you two hear the news from Pyrin?”

“About the lockdown, yes, Caldwell just told me.”

“No, not that,” Ainsley said, shaking his head. “A research team in Pyrin found a new antibiotic, and it notably works on gram-negative bacteria. They’re calling it Ampicillin,” he said, laying down what was presumably a copy of the paper on Pryce’s desk.

“That’s great news!” Caldwell said, “see, Pryce? I told you things would be fine. It’s not like we’re the only biologists in the world.”

“This is…promising,” Pryce admitted as he flipped through the report. “But this doesn’t change anything. I still have work to do.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Ainsley said as he sat down on a dusty chair. “Things are really moving along now, enough that I feel comfortable telling you to take a vacation.”

Pryce blinked. “You…want me to…?”

“I know it’s rich coming from me, but you’ve been working far too much. It’s not healthy,” Ainsley sighed. “I would have liked to have done this earlier, but back then I…we needed your expertise. You know I’ve reallocated your management tasks for others to handle, so your absence won’t impact the production plants.”

Pryce only stared blankly at Ainsley, as if he had not considered this outcome at all. “I don’t want to take a break,” he finally said.

“I’m not giving you a choice,” Ainsley said. “Go home. Take a break, and…take care of any personal business. I’m not going to let you work yourself to death.”

For several minutes Pryce gave no response, but Ainsley remained firmly seated in his chair until Pryce gave the slightest of nods.

“Good, take a month off, then let me know when you’re coming back,” Ainsley said, and dusted himself off as he stood up from the chair. “Don’t worry, we’ll take it from here. Caldwell, a word in my office, if you would?”

----------------------------------------

“So in short, plant P3’s production is within projected parameters, and they’re in the process of upscaling, of course,” Caldwell said, summarizing his report.

“Good, good,” Ainsley said, though the senior researcher seemed oddly distracted. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He told him about Pryce’s extended family.

“Oh…oh my god,” Caldwell said, placing his head in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he demanded.

“I was going to tell you the moment you returned,” Ainsley sighed. “I didn’t think you’d go straight to his office.”

“I need to apologize,” Caldwell said, and turned to leave before Ainsley gave his response. He swiftly marched to Pryce’s office, but was surprised to see that it was empty.

“Doctor Pryce? He left a few minutes ago,” the secretary said when Caldwell asked her if he’d seen Pryce leave, and he immediately ran outside to scan up and down the street.

But his colleague was nowhere to be seen.

The next day, 958/02/02

Rows upon rows of freshly dug graves filled Auster Memorial Park, with the vast majority of them being small, unimpressive things, which made sense considering that they were surely all empty.

The bodies of the dead had all been cremated, after all.

Pryce walked past them all, and the great coldness in his gut growing with each step he took.

It was…relatively easy to ignore the numbers while he worked in a lab. He’d barely stepped outside in the past few months, unlike many others who were forced to contend with the reality of the situation.

Hills upon hills of headstones stretched as far as the eye could see, and these were only a fraction of those who had died.

He had been familiar with this cemetery, and had walked this path many times before, and yet he almost felt like a stranger in his own shoes as he stopped in front of two familiar headstones, placed adjacent to the resting place of his own parents.

James Wright

921 AE – 953 AE

Here lies a loving husband and a brilliant engineer, who designed solutions for the benefit of all mankind.

Elizabeth Wright

919 AE - 953 AE

Here lies a loving wife and a renowned physicist, whose works on quantum electrodynamics furthered our understanding on the nature of light.

He stared at these headstones for some time, not quite reading their text. Eventually he forced himself to look at the three new additions.

Gerson Wright

901 AE – 957 AE

Margrit Wright

902 AE – 957 AE

Arthur Wright

948 AE – 957 AE

There were no descriptions on these headstones. A glance around told him that this was true for a significant portion of the newer headstones.

It was possible the morticians were overwhelmed with the sheer volume of corpses, but it was also possible that the deceased simply had no family left to leave an inscription for. In his case, the cemetery had indeed sent him a letter; he’d read it last night, when he’d returned home for the first time in three months.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Pryce faintly registered the sound of approaching footsteps. He ignored it.

“Pryce,” said Caldwell’s voice, surprising Pryce.

“...What do you want?” Pryce asked, without really wanting to hear an answer.

“I just wanted to say I’m so sorry,” Caldwell said, awkwardly blurting an apology as he wrung his hands. “I didn’t know-”

“It’s fine. I never told you,” Pryce said, with that same stoic tone as before, with only a slight hint of resignation.

He didn’t bother turning to face Caldwell, half-expecting the man to leave.

He’d expected Caldwell to say more, but the man only stood in silence.

“It’s not your fault,” Caldwell abruptly said. “We all did what we could, and I know you worked harder than anyone else.”

“...It wasn’t enough,” Pryce said hoarsely.

”You can’t blame yourself for that. No one could have known there’d be a plague-”

“I did!” Pryce snapped, whirling around to face his colleague. “I researched and wrote an entire fucking essay!” His voice cracked as he ranted, and he opened his mouth to continue-

But nothing came out.

He glanced back at the graves and collapsed before Arthur’s headstone.

“I…I knew better than anyone what was at stake…” he rasped, the heart-rending pain at least becoming too much to bear. Tears began to flow, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He could not help but recall the year he spent taking care of his father, all the days he spent in leisure with the Wright family, and all the times he left work early to look after Arthur.

Time he could have spent ensuring the plague would never have been a threat.

“...so why,” he sobbed, uncaring of the tears that ran down his face, “why didn’t I try harder…?”

Pryce did not notice when Caldwell had crouched down to comfort him, not until a gentle hand rested upon his shoulder.

The gesture barely registered to him at all.

There was nothing left to distract him now; the painful reality was far too much to bear, and Alexander Pryce fell to pieces before the graves of everyone who he had ever loved.

1 week later, 958/02/09

The door creaked open as Pryce stepped into the Wright family’s house in Arkouda. The house was completely devoid of life, even as he turned on the lights.

His family had been friends with the Wright family long before his own birth, with both families having been decimated in the Unification War.

Gerson and Margrit had apparently loved him more than their own distant relatives, as their will had given him everything that they had not dedicated to Arthur.

Now, it was all his.

He didn’t want anything to do with this place, despite – or perhaps, because of his childhood memories, but someone had to sort through their belongings.

First he’d have to decide on what to keep, and then he’d sell the rest.

He wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to dispose of anything, not when everything came with a painful memory, but he decided to start with the hardest part first – Arthur’s room.

The house had grown stale and musky in the last few months, and Pryce coughed as he opened the door to James’ old room, which Gerson had mentioned was now Arthur’s.

The first thing Pryce noticed was the model rocket he’d given Arthur, which sat in the corner, having long since been fully assembled. A thin layer of dust had settled upon it, just as it had everything else in the room.

The second thing he noticed were the bookshelves full of books from Arthur’s old room, along with many new ones Pryce did not recognize.

He closed his eyes, and waited for the tears to recede.

When he opened them again he noticed a newspaper resting on the desk, dated shortly after the start of the pandemic. Pryce flipped through it, and stopped at one section outlined with a marker.

GLEXA opens recruitment for the Horizon Project!

Be among the first brave explorers to step foot on alien land!

Applicants must possess an education in one or more relevant fields: biology, engineering, geology, medicine, naval navigation, or other skills.

Applicants must also be in able condition and in good health.

Interested applicants can contact the GLEXA recruitment office at (111) 453-921.

Pryce looked up from the paper, and saw a bulletin board covered with magazine and newspaper cutouts, and a closer inspection showed that the oldest centered around the Longshot program and its subsequent discoveries, with newer ones relating to exploratory projects that the government had planned.

He looked down at the desk, and saw a few textbooks strewn about the table, along with a notebook.

Against his better judgment, he opened it.

The inside was full of notes, in Arthur’s rather neat handwriting. The subjects varied from many fields of science, with his own more personal notes scrawled in the margins.

Pryce wedged the newspaper between the pages and closed the book before he could lose his composure. He silently promised himself that he’d read it later, but right now he had a task to complete.

With a heavy heart, he set about sorting through the rest of the family’s belongings.

Two weeks later, 958/02/23

“You want me to be a professor?” Pryce asked, baffled.

“Yes,” said Stanton, “your cure-”

“It’s not mine,” Pryce said flatly. “Penicillin was a joint effort. We wouldn’t be talking right now if it weren’t for my colleagues.”

“That’s not how the public sees it,” Stanton said, a reminder that greatly soured Pryce’s mood. He’d been sheltered in the lab for the past year, and during that time he’d only cared for news that directly pertained to the plague. As a result, he’d been unpleasantly surprised to discover that the major news outlets had nearly given him sole credit for the discovery, isolation, and production of penicillin, going so far as calling it “Pryce’s cure”.

“Talk to anyone at Ainsley’s lab. They’ll be able to teach it just as well as I could,” Pryce said, and moved to close the door.

“Wait wait wait!” Stanton said, shoving his foot in the door to prevent it from closing. “You’ll be paid well! Fifteen thousand a year.”

Pryce blinked, mildly surprised at the sum. “I don’t care. I’m already scheduled to return to the lab next week.”

“But what will that accomplish?” Stanton asked.

Pryce frowned. “Explain.”

“You claim that everyone at the lab knows penicillin as well as you do, correct? And the production plants are set to eliminate the plague by the end of the month. Is there anything in particular at the lab that only you can do?” He paused, and took Pryce’s silence as an opportunity to continue. “You’re a household name now, like Vega and Palmer-” Pryce didn’t bother to suppress a snort of disdain at this ridiculous comparison. “-your work has inspired thousands if not millions of young adults – don’t you think it’s important to foster their interest, so that they might make their own contributions into the field?”

Pryce stared silently at Stanton, begrudgingly admitting to himself that the unscrupulous man had a point. He knew what it was like to look up to others, and to feel the desire to make accomplishments of one’s own. Spending even a year to lecture at the university of Auster would certainly provide a tangible benefit to the students…and to the university itself.

“I always thought it was odd how frequently the newspapers mentioned my name,” Pryce said slowly. “Almost like someone ‘encouraged’ them to build me up like some kind of hero.”

Stanton froze, only for an instant, but it was enough to confirm Pryce’s suspicions.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re suggesting,” Staton said, almost without missing a beat. “The university would never condone such tactics. Penicillin has saved untold millions of lives – does it really come as a surprise that the public would grow interested in its creator?” he asked, in a distastefully wheedling tone.

Pryce resisted the urge to roll his eyes at this non-answer, and instead he considered his options. Whether or not the university had engineered this scenario made little practical difference, and he could always do research in addition to providing lectures.

“Twenty thousand,” Pryce said. He could use the money for his own research-

“Done,” Staton said, enthusiastically shaking his hand. “I'll send you the documents later today, please sign and forward them to the university in a timely manner, and have a good rest of your day.”

The man closed the door and left before Pryce could say anything, leaving him with the distinct feeling that he’d been thoroughly outplayed.

Two months later, 958/04/08

“Any other questions?” Pryce asked, trying to hide his exhaustion. “Well, seeing as there’s only a few minutes left I think we can dismiss class early today. For homework, make sure you go over the course syllabus, and please read the handout for next class.”

The first half of the class had gone as expected, with him introducing the course content and expectations to the students. He’d opened the floor for questions for the second half, which had unfortunately taken up all of the remaining time.

He didn’t blame the students at all, but it dismayed him to be given sole credit for the success of penicillin, even if he’d expected it. In the end he’d spent much of the question period correcting their false assumptions, and giving proper credit to the researchers on Ainsley’s team.

Pryce swiftly packed up his belongings, but was stopped from leaving by a group of students who’d gathered at the door.

“Do all of you have more questions?” he asked, surprised and a little disappointed. “We should take this to my office if this is going to take more than a few minutes.”

“That won’t be necessary, professor,” said a tall and lanky student. “I just wanted to thank you; my parents are alive thanks to you – er, thanks to you and your colleagues, I mean.”

“Same here,” said a boy with freckles. “Except it was my uncle who was in the hospital.”

“It was my grandparents for me,” another added, along with several others who similarly voiced their thanks.

“I…” Pryce swallowed, and resisted the urge to take a step back. “You’re welcome,” he managed, and swiftly marched back to his office.

Pryce collapsed into his chair a few minutes later, glad that no one had followed him. Shame gnawed at him for reacting the way he did, but he’d been unprepared for the visceral bitterness that being thanked evoked in his heart.

Bitterness and…resentment, as much as he hated to admit it.

Pryce jumped as someone knocked on his door, and he looked up to see a young man standing in the doorway – he’d forgotten to close it.

“Professor? May I come in?”

“Of course,” Pryce said, drawing himself up properly. He struggled to recall if this was one of his students – the lecture room had been filled to capacity and more.

“My name’s Scott, Scott Harris,” the student said, shaking his hand. “I’m one of your students,” he added, a little awkwardly.

“I see. What can I do for you, Scott?” Pryce asked, with a strained smile.

“Well, you see, I’m an engineer,” Scott said, surprising Pryce. “Well, an engineering student, anyway. I’m in my final year, and I figured I might as well branch out and learn something interesting. Problem is I don’t know much about biology, so I thought I'd ask for your advice on whether this course is for me or not.”

Pryce was pleasantly surprised by this question, as he’d been expecting another private thank-you. “Well, this course does assume that students have some fundamental knowledge,” he said, slowly. “How about this, you come by after class and I’ll help you fill in the blanks.”

“Oh, that sounds great!” Scott said thankfully. “But…you don’t have office hours right now, do you?”

“It’ll be fine,” Pryce said with a dismissive gesture. “So, what do you know about microbiology?”

“Er…we’re starting now?” Scott asked, surprised.

“Do you have anywhere else to be?”

“Well…no,” Scott admitted.

“Word of advice: It’s always better to start things early whenever you can,” Pryce said, leaning forward. “So, let’s get started.”

1 year later, 959/03/13

Pryce stared at the contract.

His one-year term was nearly up now, and the university had offered him even more money to teach for another few years. It still pained him to think about correcting the preconceptions of a new batch of students, but he’d enjoyed teaching more than he’d expected.

Pryce sighed, and decided to finish some housekeeping before making his decision. His small and modest house was minimalist by most standards, and cleaning up was never a difficult task.

It did, however, remind Pryce of the Wright family’s belongings, and he guiltily recalled that he’d never read Arthur’s notes as he’d promised. He was genuinely very busy with his research and preparing lectures, but those were just excuses.

No, the real reason why he’d procrastinated for so long was that he was afraid – afraid of what Arthur had written in his last days alive. With a sigh, he decided that he deserved to know, one way or another.

----------------------------------------

Pryce coughed as he dusted off the cardboard box, and braced himself as he flipped open Arthur’s notes.

The first dozen pages depicted the inner mechanisms of a chronometer. The next twenty or thirty pages were filled with practice math problems, and then it went back to a mix of scientific trivia. On occasion there would be a more personal note expressing a stray opinion or thought; these would, almost without exception, be related to the Longshot program, and its discovery of the other continents.

The notes shifted to speculation as Arthur wondered what would be found on those continents. These were accompanied by drawings of oddly proportioned animals, some of which resembled dinosaurs, while others bore a heavy resemblance to creatures of myth.

The last page stole Pryce’s breath away – upon it, a sketch of six familiar figures stood together.

Once he’d regained his composure he flipped through the notebook a few more times, but none of the notes were dated, and there was no mention of Arthur’s own sickness.

Pryce soberly closed the book, and gently placed it back into the box. He turned his focus back to the newspaper that Arthur had saved from so long ago; the one that featured the GLEXA recruitment advert.

Three days later, 959/03/16

“Hi, how can I help you?” asked the GLEXA secretary.

“I’m here to apply for the Horizon expedition,” Pryce said, handing her his application.

“I’m sorry, but the application deadline has already passed,” the secretary said, but paused when she saw his resume – or rather, his name. “...the Doctor Alexander Pryce?” she asked, eyes wide.

“I have never met anyone who shared my name,” Pryce sighed, resisting the urge to be facetious.

“...let me call my manager,” the secretary said.

----------------------------------------

“The application deadline was some time ago, but to be honest we’re a bit behind schedule, for reasons I’m sure you’re familiar with,” Director Kirk said as they walked through the facility. “The ship’s construction had just begun when the plague hit, and I’ve more or less spent the past year trying to get us back on track.”

“I see,” Pryce said, not terribly surprised. “When is the ship scheduled to set sail?”

“Two years from now,” Kirk said firmly.

“Is that the official date, or your personal estimate?”

Kirk didn’t quite smile, but the corners of her eyes wrinkled a little in amusement. “Official.”

“Then I guess I have plenty of time to catch up with the others.”

“Indeed,” Kirk nodded, and shook his hand. “Glad to have you aboard, Doctor Pryce.”

3 months later, 959/06/27

“And this is the engine room,” Emile said. “You probably won’t ever need to step foot in here, but I figured you’d want to see it.”

“It’s quite something,” Pryce agreed. He knew next to nothing about ships, but the engine room was quite obviously a marvel of engineering.

“Can’t wait to see how she handles,” murmured Emile. “She’s not built to be fast, but she’s still got two six-hundred kilowatt Wright engines powering her.”

Pryce froze mid-step.

“Hm? Is something the matter?” Emile asked, looking back in confusion.

“...tell me more about the Wright engine,” Pryce said, slowly.

“Oh, well it’s more or less a straight upgrade over the diesel engines used back in the war,” Emile said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “More efficient, more reliable, more powerful. I think I heard it was designed by some bright fellow about a decade or so ago, why?”

Pryce paused. “I know this isn’t your responsibility, but would you mind teaching me how the engines work? And how to operate them?”

Emile raised an eyebrow at this odd request, but did not seem bothered by it. “Well, it couldn’t hurt to have a backup engineer, I suppose. Sure, why not?”

“Thank you,” Pryce said gratefully, and turned to glance at the engines. “I’ll be in your care, then.”

9 months later, 961/03/03

Pryce stood in front of the graves, just as he had so many times before.

“Well, it’s finally time for me to go,” he said, and gently knelt before Arthur’s headstone. “I’ll be back. I don’t know when, but I’ll be back.”

Pryce flipped open the chronometer as he spoke. Years of use had worn the outer shell of the device, but the insides remained pristine. He had never made any modifications to the device, at least, not until this morning.

Now, a child’s sketch could be seen on the inner shell of the chronometer.

“When I do, I’ll tell you all about what I’ve seen. I know I’ve broken a lot of promises. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’ll do my best to keep this one.”

Pryce closed the chronometer with a sharp click, and turned to leave, ready to depart the Mainland.

961/3/04 – Mission day 0

The crew stood at the stern of the Horizon, watching as the ship pulled away from shore.

It wasn’t the first time they’d seen such a sight; the ship had gone through rigorous testing before the actual start of the mission, but it was very different to know that they would not see land for at least another two weeks, and likely would not return home for months.

“Well, I think that’s enough standing around for now,” Emile said, clapping his hands. “Kendall, Jerry, I need you down in the engine room, let’s go!”

“Looks like it’s going to be a boring two weeks,” Hawkins yawned, “Anyone up for a game of Aturanga? Pryce?”

Pryce shook his head. “I brought enough literature to read for the journey,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to read much of it with the ship’s constant, nauseating swaying.

“If you say so,” Hawkins shrugged. “Anyone else?”

Pryce left the dissipating crowd and made his way back to his room, and laid down upon his hammock in hopes of ameliorating his discomfort. It wasn’t particularly effective, and he dearly hoped that things would improve over the course of their journey.

961/03/16 – Mission day 12

“Any improvement?” Siebert asked as Pryce left the medical bay.

“No, but they’re stable for now,” Pryce reported. “How much longer till we make landfall?”

“Captain Williams wasn’t able to give me a straight answer,” Siebert sighed. “The storm’s still going strong, and our time of arrival depends on when this damned storm will finally clear up.”

“Well, hopefully they’ll recover faster with a solid place to rest,” Pryce sighed. “Keep an eye on the patients. I’ll go see if the crew needs any help.”

“Understood,” Siebert nodded, and pulled the door to the med bay shut behind her.

The hurricane that had ensnared the ship had been raging for days. Pryce had initially been among the worst of those affected by seasickness, but once a few miserable days had passed he had somehow grown acclimated to the waves – at least until the hurricane struck. He still felt miserable, but many of the ship’s able hands were even worse off, so they needed all the help they could get.

“Back again, Doctor Pryce?” Randal asked. The poor man was the ship’s primary navigator, and had barely slept in the past few days, as evidenced by the bags under his hazy, unfocused eyes.

“Indeed,” Pryce said, taking note of the others who were on duty. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Sure,” Randal said, looking at the ship’s chronometer. “Our shift is almost up. The next group will be here to relieve us in about ten minutes, would you mind looking after things until they arrive?”

“Will do,” Pryce nodded. His official training had been limited with respect to operating the ship itself, but he’d learned enough to be comfortable handling the ship for short periods of time.

“Appreciated,” Randal mumbled before stumbling off. The other crew members likewise nodded their thanks before following their superior down belowdecks.

----------------------------------------

Pryce frowned as he checked the chronometer for the tenth time in half as many minutes. The next shift was over five minutes late, which was very unusual. They may have been exhausted, but Captain Williams ran a good ship, and his men were well disciplined. In fact, they’d been early for the last few times Pryce had done this, so it was concerning for all of them to be so late.

Still, he couldn’t just leave the ship unattended. It was possible the crewmen were preoccupied with a more important task, so Pryce decided to wait until they arrived. Time passed, and his concern grew with each minute that crept by. He was just about to go find them himself at the half hour mark, but at that moment the ship’s lights abruptly flickered and died.

The much dimmer emergency lights flickered into existence seconds later, but Pryce had truly begun to worry. He fumbled for an emergency hurricane lamp in the dimly-lit wheelhouse, and in a few seconds the lantern flared to life.

Light source in hand, he made his way down into the bowels of the ship, walking slowly so as to ensure that he would not stumble and break his light source.

He’d made it down three decks when the flame flickered, and he noticed that it was much weaker than before. Pryce turned a valve to release more gas, only to find that it was nearly fully open.

Pryce stared at the lantern, confused by this turn of events. The lantern still provided more than enough visibility for him to navigate the lower decks, but something felt wrong to him.

On a whim, he retreated back up the stairs, and Pryce watched in horror as the flame grew larger and larger.

The lantern wasn’t malfunctioning. There was something wrong with the air, something that displaced enough oxygen to stifle the lantern’s flame.

Pryce clambered up the stairs as quickly as he could, and flung open the windows and doors of the wheelhouse, heedless of the rainwater that gushed into the room. He panted as he considered his options, feeling acutely aware of the unusual exhaustion in his limbs – a symptom of a lack of oxygen. He couldn’t be certain what the gas was, but the only explanation that made sense was if the engines or ventilation system malfunctioned – possibly both. In that case, the gas was probably carbon dioxide and/or carbon monoxide. It baffled him that such a thing could possibly happen, but the cause wasn’t the most important matter at hand.

At this moment, most if not all of the crew were currently residing in areas of the ship with deathly low levels of oxygen. The change might have been gradual enough for the symptoms to merely manifest as exhaustion, which most of the crew were already feeling due to the hurricane. None of them may have noticed anything wrong until it was too late.

The human body could only survive minutes without oxygen. Pryce knew logically that there was not enough time for him to save the vast majority of the crew, but he pushed that thought away to set about doing what he could.

The gas was definitely heavier than air, so those who resided in the highest levels of the ship had the highest chance of survival. With this in mind Pryce rushed to the medical bay, doing his best to conserve oxygen along the way while following the ship’s dimly lit corridors.

He felt slightly lightheaded by the time he reached the med bay, and once inside he took a few seconds to fling open a window – ignoring the torrential spray of rain and sea water that it let in – and dragged the first body he literally stumbled across down the corridor, up the stairs, and into the wheelhouse.

Pryce collapsed onto the floor the moment they’d reached relative safety, and panted as he waited for the lightheadedness to fade. He turned his head to face the motionless body he had retrieved, who turned out to be Siebert.

With a trembling hand, he pressed his fingers against her carotid artery.

No pulse.

Kneeling down, he laid his ear against her mouth.

No breath.

Pryce clenched his fist as he stood, his lips pressed into a thin line. He could attempt to perform CPR, or he could retrieve someone else from the ship.

He discarded the latter option almost immediately. Siebert was a smaller woman, and her oxygen requirements were lower compared to the men who resided in the med bay. None of them would be in better condition than her.

Pryce considered retrieving Captain Williams, who resided on the same level as the med bay. His quarters were a bit further away, but he might be able to make it.

Every second would matter no matter which option he chose, and so he decided on the path that had the highest chance of saving someone.

CPR was a relatively new medical protocol; it could revive the recently deceased, but the odds of success failed with each passing second. Pryce knew he had no time for deliberation, so he quickly began attempts to resuscitate Siebert. He didn’t waste any time checking the chronometer; instead he kept time by counting chest compressions.

His arms and chest burned with exhaustion at 100 chest compressions, but he kept going.

At the 400 mark his vision blacked out, and he nearly collapsed on top of Siebert’s unresponsive body. Pryce managed to continue the resuscitation after half a minute’s rest, but he was so exhausted that he only managed to reach 500 before collapsing from exhaustion.

Pryce spent a few minutes afterwards panting and heaving upon the floor. He faintly remembered that carbon monoxide was able to bind with oxygen receptor proteins like glue, a lethal trait which rendered the proteins useless for four to five hours.

Water had begun to pool on the floor, soaking his pants and freezing his legs. Pryce tried to stand, but slipped on the wet floor as the ship tilted. He only barely managed to sit himself up against the wall, and waited a few minutes to recover.

Pryce tried to stand once he had regained his breath, but his legs had no strength. He waited a few more minutes, then headed back down the stairs to find the captain.

----------------------------------------

Pryce heaved, his arms burning as he kneeled over Captain Williams.

He’d performed chest compressions on the man for as long as he could, to no avail.

The crew were all surely dead now. He was the only one left.

A glint of light caught his attention, and Pryce looked outside to see that the hurricane had abated. Soon, sunlight filtered through the clouds and into the wheelhouse, completely uncaring of the disaster that had taken the lives of everyone around him.

961/05/08 – Mission day 74

Fathom stirred from his light slumber, awakened by Pryce’s tossing and turning. The human was also mumbling in his sleep, though Fathom couldn’t be sure if the words were nonsense or not.

Pryce had his ‘sleeping bag’ set up some distance away from Fathom’s own pile of furs, but even at this distance Fathom could detect the stress in the humans’ scent. Humans were odd in that they would leak from all over their bodies when stressed or exerting themselves. It was honestly a little gross, though it did make it very easy to read certain emotions, like stress, agitation, and fear – scents that were practically rolling off of the sleeping Pryce.

Fathom pushed himself to his feet, and padded over to gently nudge the human awake.

Pryce woke up with a start, and seemed surprised by Fathom’s proximity. The human seemed to take a few seconds to remember where he was, and his breathing calmed as he sat himself up.

“Are you okay?” Fathom asked. “You were turning around and saying things in your sleep.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Pryce said, rubbing his eyes. “Just had a dream about…things from the past.”

“Bad things?”

“...yeah, a little,” Pryce admitted.

Fathom rumbled in thought, then asked, “are you cold?”

“It’s…a little cool, but I’m not cold,” Pryce said, sounding a little confused.

“My parents said that cold makes you sleep bad,” Fathom said, and plopped himself down to curl around the human.

“Er…what are you doing?” Pryce asked as Fathom slid a membranous wing over his head.

“Sleeping,” Fathom said, and closed his eyes. He did not fall asleep immediately, and neither did Pryce, but the human seemed to relax after a few minutes, and soon afterwards he had fallen back asleep.

Satisfied, Fathom allowed himself to glide back to sleep, and this time he did not awaken until the sun rose.

The End