The applause is subdued, with only a fraction of yesterday's crowd present. Ben steps onto the stage, not with his usual enthusiasm, but with a dignified reverence. He appears less like a showman and more like a patriarch, exuding a raw, authentic presence.

There is no music blasting during his entrance. The two spotlights simply center on him as he steps forward to the front of the stage. He stands there for a moment, looking out at the crowd. And it’s not until it’s quite enough to hear the wind does he begin.

"Brothers and sisters, we gather here today under the shadow of a great tragedy. We mourn the loss of 30 precious souls, taken from us in a senseless and brutal attack on our sacred gathering. Let us first and foremost take a moment of silence to honor their memory, to feel their presence among us, and to offer our prayers for their eternal peace."

A few sniffles and muffled moans of sorrow can be heard over the moment.

I see Belle look down at her hands, a sad expression on her face. She knew many of those men, I knew. Gus pads over and puts his head in her lap. I look down at him. As she scratches behind his ears, the dog looks up at me knowingly. I swear that dog understands human sentiment better than most humans.

“Thank you,” says Ben, nodding. Then he breaks into a prayer of thanks to God for their souls, and pronounces a blessing of healing onto the families of the deceased.

“These beloved souls are not gone,” he says. “They have merely passed into another realm, a place where pain and suffering are no more. As we stand united in our grief, let us also find strength in the hope that their spirits watch over us, guiding us forward.”

He pauses, as if deep in contemplation.

“Now, my friends, I come to you with a message of hope, a revelation that transcends our earthly sorrow. We have made an astonishing, groundbreaking discovery. We have learned that this crystal before you, that we have fought and bled for, that our friends have given their lives defending, holds within its vast and mysterious alien matrix the key to a bridge—a bridge to a new world. A beautiful new home. The aliens, we’ve learned, came to warn us of our planet’s inevitable demise. And they’ve provided a way to save our species from extinction.”

There’s stirring. I see faces turn to one another, confused but intrigued.

"This is no ordinary place," Ben said, his voice imbued with a sense of reverence. "What our extraterrestrial friends have crafted for us is a realm of unparalleled beauty and peace. Here, sickness, pain, and suffering are but distant memories. Yet, there's more. There is a prophet among us, a man touched by the hand of our celestial visitors. He holds the keys to this new world, guiding us to the threshold of a new era. My brothers and sisters, the promises of paradise are now within our reach."

“That’s my cue,” I say, standing up.

“Good luck,” says Belle.

“Let us hold fast to our faith,” continues Ben. “Let us remain steadfast in our unity, and let us embrace this gift with open hearts.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I walk through the crowd, towards the crystal. There are only a handful of men guarding its perimeter now, but they make no move to stop me as I step over the caution tape. Ben had told them to expect this.

“For in his hands,” says Ben, “we hold the power to transcend the limitations of this world and step into the glory of the next. Amen.”

“A little melodramatic dramatic,” I mumble to myself.

“No, it was beautiful,” says Xeno. “Art crafted from words.”

“You would think that,” I whisper. “But you can’t doubt the man’s ability to sell it, I’ll give him that.”

“Brothers and sisters, please direct your attention to the crystal, and meet the prophet himself.”

The spotlights sweep around for a moment as their operators try to find what Ben is talking about. Suddenly, they’re in my face, blinding me. I cover my eyes and wave.

Someone runs over and hands a microphone to me. I take it and there’s a loud feedback squeal.

“Oh, sorry about that,” I say. “Hi, everyone. Uh, yeah, I’m Jack. And Ben, I mean Doctor Brock, is right. Everything he said is true. I don’t know why the aliens chose me for this task, but here I am. Okay. Great. So let’s get started.”

I hand the mic back to the person who handed it to me and turn to face the crystal.

“That was awful, Jack,” says Xeno. “Really, I don’t know how you could have said that any worse. That was like the polar opposite of eloquent. Like wiping with sandpaper.”

“I’m not going for eloquence,” I’m going for effectiveness. “Now shut up and let’s suck the marble out of this thing. Ahd, oh, remember to make a big show of it, if you can. This is your time to shine.”

“Like how?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Can you make the crystal glow really bright or something?”

“I’m not a—”

I place my right hand on the sheer wall of the crystal cutting him off.

A moment later, the crystal's surface shimmers with an intense light, throwing off emerald hues that dance across the sandy terrain. A low hum fills the air, growing steadily louder in a subtle but undeniable crescendo. As the light grows brighter, the crystal pulses, sending beams shooting skyward, piercing through the cloudy sky.

The crowd lets out an audible gasp at the sight.

The colors mingle with the setting sun, creating a breathtaking palette. Then the light withdraws, and some kind of liquid forms just beneath the crystal's surface. It moves around until it centers under my hand. I pull my hand back, almost having to pry off Xeno’s lip, and find a pearl-like white marble in my palm. The marble is smooth, cool to the touch, and vibrates with a faint, subtle energy. The crowd gasps again as I hold it up for all to see.

“Don’t be afraid,” says Ben’s voice over the speakers. “Come up on stage, Jack. Show us what you’ve done. The bridge you just built.”

I do, and as I move forward, people part for me. It’s a strange feeling. Their expressions are a mix of wonder, horror, and skepticism.

I step up onto the stage to find a woman standing next to Ben. She’s middle-aged and appears to have one of those perpetually sad faces, as if her facial bones were just born sad. But she has a hopeful look in her eyes as she holds Ben’s waist with one arm. The spotlights follow me as I make my way towards the pair.

Ben holds a microphone to his mouth.

“Jack, this is Isabella,” he says for all to hear. Then he turns to her. “Isabella, are you ready to begin a new life in a world full of beauty and peace?”

She says something in Spanish so soft I can’t make it out. Then she reaches her hands out to me and starts crying.

“This would be a good time not to cut someone in half,” says Xeno, unhelpfully.

I exhale slowly, steady my nerves, and gently take Isabella's hands in mine.