The Purple

Malik was in shock; he was alive and resonating on all seven layers of his being. His rocks were animated by parasite spins and off-axis vibrations. This was how the Metils handled extreme stress. He needed to calm himself. The encounter went too fast, he spoke, saw and he was back, floating alone in the Purple. The rift closed, and his link with the alien girl ended. The one called Sophie was back in her strange but astonishing world.

His encounter with Sophie was no figment of his imagination; he had the battle scars to prove it and memories stored in his databanks. A sizable portion of his seventh layer was gone, vaporized by a single word pronounced by the intangible creature. He was now lost in space. His locator, a deep space compass normally intertwined into the rocks of his seventh layer was now cinder.

He should be worried about standing in the path of the second predicted rift, but he had more pressing matters. He saw the last Zexs. He flew close, to it, the ball was different, smaller. As he watched, it was increasing in size, or better yet, he was shrinking a thousandfold. Both made no sense, but the latter was more probable. Changing size, called scaling, was entirely possible in the Purple. Scaling was a gift to the Metils. When upward scaling was attempted, it was deadly, but smaller scaling was possible. Somehow his contact with the rift had made him larger.

Any other day, his size difference would be a significant worry, but not now. The gaping holes in his layers and the stress was too much for anyone to endure without medical intervention. He was in danger, and his survival had to be his priority. About a hundred rocks from his sixth shell were also missing. His government issued armor added as an eighth layer was long gone.

He looked inwardly between his rocks like a human uses a tongue to check for broken teeth after a punch to the face. Both of his spin defects were still inside of him; that was awful luck. If only the amputation could have ripped those off.

He needed to calm down.

The vibrations were making him bleed energy, and he was getting weaker. He had only moments before he would lose consciousness. He no longer felt Sophie; their link had vanished. Deep within himself, he knew she was back with her father and that reassured him.

"Sophie?" he said out loud to confirm his suspicions. There was silence. He was alone. His mind was still overwhelmed.

Alone in deep space, Malik lost consciousness.

Time passed.

The orbiting rocks slowed almost to a point where they stopped vibrating altogether. When he awoke, the new rift wasn't there. His pain had deepened and intensified, but he was still alive. His vibrating stress was gone, replaced by weakness. He would die unless he could recharge, and he was in no shape to travel to the closest deeper purple energetic area. Home was too far away.

He waited.

But pain quickly undermined his resolve to play the martyr. There was a way, in theory. His streamer still worked, and by using it, he could attempt a space jump. He knew once back at his base, the Group would interrogate him endlessly, as was their habit. They were sure to dismantle him, either because of his two spin inversions, or his disregard of the mission. He deserved whatever reprimand was coming his way. The Group's answer to any problem was almost universally death.

Malik's immediate survival depended on his capacity to find a stream that moved in the direction of the capital, use the technology to jump on it and transport himself to safety. He was new to using streams; his plan was a mere step from suicide. Even under calm conditions, using the technology was dangerous. There was simply no other option available to him, he reasoned.

Using his mind, he dismissed the pain and concentrated. Rocks moved. He pulled the rocks forming the streaming device orbiting from within himself. By some miracle, the box was intact. He knew he wasn't ready, but he had to attempt the jump. Hours of preparation were normally required, but he had only minutes. He ran part of the mental checklist before he attempted to energize the device.

Streaming was old technology; not the streamer he was about to use. Thousands had paid dearly to develop it. It took decades before one of the prisoners condemned into streaming survived to tell his story. Because of the importance of teleportation, the cost in Metil life was ignored, and testing on streaming continued. Today streaming, in the best of conditions, was deadly more than two percent of the time.

The technology could be imagined as some form of teleportation. A Metil energized the device and in the blink of the mind reappeared leagues away from where the device was powered.

Mathematicians discovered one day that the Universe or at least the Purple dimension had what was called natural scales. Everything in the universe existed within itself at multiple different scales, or sizes. This principle, on Earth, was called self-similarity and was rarely understood. It is, in itself, far from intuitive. Theory teaches us a curved coastline is identical in shape when looked from a high altitude, or when looked at using a microscope, finding identical portion at two scales. Theory, as shocking as it sounds suggests the natural similarity in shape between a large object and a small one is not coincidental, it is a natural property of any Universe. The Purple was partly self-similar.

The Metils mathematicians found that self-similarity comes in two types. The Universe not only creates identical patterns at different scales, but some of the rare matches can be linked at the hip, as two sides of a coin. In fact, the theory says everything and everyone exists simultaneously at multiple different scales.

Metil children are taught that scaling is like being able to find a microscopic map of the world around you and being able to move the smaller version of yourself on that map. By reducing yourself to nearly the size of the copy on the map, your smaller twin version grows larger. As the pair gets closer to one another other, they are pinched in a precise direction on their respective maps. Each time upwards scaling has been attempted, the result remained death. Because of their shapes, the Metils were uniquely adapted to stream. With training, they can extend themselves, or inflate themselves to nearly double their size. This allows them to increase the number of available scales.

Malik had no physical capacity to expand himself to help his streamer find multiple scales and be able to scale in the right direction. But he could look for the basic scale. Maybe the first offered would be right and lead home. He activated the machine. The first step was simple. Malik pushed a shining red rock, and an image of himself was stored in the memory. Hurt, with chunks missing, he was nearly twenty percent easier to model. He initially did not enter an expansion variable, he was in no shape to push his size. The pain would be too much.

The device returned no viable scale.

He increased his expansion coefficient to five percent. That could be possible. The machine found a single stream, to the north-east. The direction was away from where he needed to go. He increased his maximum expansion to ten percent and finally fifteen. Nothing. Only once he increased the expansion to twenty percent did he find one. It led directly to his deep purple. There was no way he could expand as much. Healthy, he could maybe expand by thirty percent. He had no time to wait; he had no choice.

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He slid a block and energized the device. It sparkled. The pieces forming the streamer stopped turning within his sixth layer. The rest of his body was still orbiting. His own rocks touched the machine; there was an orange jolt of power in the device. The energy jumped between the rocks, like a Tasmanian Devil of electricity. At least the machine was working. It kept warming up, then the program executed.

He took a deep pause and slowly began to push. Like a person taking a deep breath, he let himself grow, pushing every rock apart from his center. The pain was blinding. Each rock had to distance itself from its neighbors in the same proportion. He was only at five percent growth, and there was no way he could do more. His larger rocks began to vibrate; this was not stress vibration, it was different. He ignored the pain and pushed on. As each of his rocks parted from the others, the pain doubled. He was a human with broken legs trying to stand up.

He really had to find a reason why he should push past the pain. If he failed, would they send someone else to the next opening of the rift? Would that person be as kind as he was? He wanted to see Sophie, yet he was returning home. He knew his mind was not making much sense.

He pushed. His expansion was now at ten percent, then fifteen, and finally twenty percent. At some point, the pain was so great, he no longer felt his body. Once wide enough, the screen on the device blinked. It now read twenty-one and a half. Without hesitation, he let one of his spinning layers touch the orange energy. Like a child's toy, the machine expanded and the rocks forming it placed themselves in a close orbit over his round body. The little points began to rotate very fast forming an orange color sphere around him.

Then, the world around him collapsed.

He was gone.

An instant later, he appeared in a much deeper color part of the Purple. He looked around. He was at the doorstep of his final destination. He had committed yet another mortal violation. Streaming this close to a city was forbidden. Anyone in a close vicinity of where he arrived would die.

Malik was dying; he did not care. Other Metils floating around him began to yell and panic. Within seconds, a citywide alarm sounded. He obviously was the source of the commotion. But something else was wrong. He was now in the middle of his capital city. Millions of small shiny rock danced forming this city. Hundreds of Metils were phasing out of their houses, passing like ghosts through the walls. Each made of crystal-like popcorn, with kernels bouncing off each other. This world was beautiful. Seas of energetic rocks, in small groups, were spinning around in clockwise fashion.

The world felt smaller than normal. Each of his orbiting rocks was larger. Each rock was bigger, stronger. This was impossible. Expanding to scale was pushing rocks apart, not making them bigger. It was as if he'd drank Alice's growth potion from Wonderland. He was about twice the size of the others in the city. He had no clue as to how he'd scaled to this size. In this larger form, he would be harder to destroy.

Slowly he made his way to the large doors of the of the Group's headquarters. The tall building looked like millions of blue glass cubes, each with rounded tips and vibrating edges. Energy flowed in every direction. The Metils could, like a comb through hair, slide themselves through what appeared to be solid.

Finally, as he reached the large doors of the place he needed to go, Metils working as medical staff came to help. There was universal kindness about doctors. The larger patient was still able to maneuver through the crystals, he passed the door, but as he did so, he did break a few formations.

"I need to report," said Malik to the doctor.

"We must repair."

"No time," said a rude voice inside the structure. The Chancellor was already barking orders. "Bring him in. Lock him up!"

Malik floated, with difficulty, to the high inner chamber. Here there were fewer crystals, and he could see the others. He quickly was surrounded. Regeneration modules, also made of spinning particles tried in vain to hook themselves to his oversized body; he would have to stay injured. What had happened to him was not natural. The questions began.

"Chancellor Rik, he has two inversions," observed the medic.

"Silence. You will speak when asked." There was no kindness in this place. "Debris," began the Chancellor speaking now to the larger sized Malik. "Tell me what happened; you have moments before we dismantle you!"

The Metils were capable of imprinting. This technology was a merger of minds and included forceful data sharing. It ordinarily was reserved for reproduction ceremonies. Forcing imprinting upon another was tantamount to rape on Earth. The technology allowed one to read another's mind the same way Malik had read Sophie's.

Malik's size was a problem. Malik knew if the medical equipment could not connect, the mental reading devices would also be unable to pry open his mind. "There is little time, I must warn you, I was attacked by a creature from the other side of the breach."

"From the other side of the rift you guarded?"

"Yes."

"We sent another to your post. The second pulse has just begun, but it will stop soon."

"I saw the other side of it, a different world. The Cold." Malik felt hiding the truth was pointless and could only endanger Sophie and her father. "I flew into the rift. There I saw a creature. We talked. She followed me home and attacked with using only words." He needed to mitigate what he'd just said; it was not the entire truth. "She is not dangerous, she is kind.”

"Shut-up!" interrupted another Metil. "You use the term 'attacked,' please explain." Slowly the large hall was filling with hundreds of Metils phasing in through the walls.

Malik tried his best to describe the events as they transpired. His larger size helped get their some attention. He did keep the personal attraction to Sophie and her father to himself. He liked the girl, they would not. He knew better than to lie or deceive the Group, but they could figure some things out by themselves. He explained she was a child, brave and scared, living in a ship traveling in the space of their world. He had close contact to the anomaly, seen the lights, and then connected with a light pattern. Of course, Malik left out what was unknown to him. He did not know the girl slept and he had somehow fallen into her dreams. He described to the Metils Sophie's world as Wonderland.

"So life exists in The Cold?"

"Most definitely."

"Are they belligerent?"

"I cannot say, but the one I contacted was not. A child, like me. Scared."

"Yet she hurt you, crossed between worlds. None of this is possible. What you describe is fiction. You survived because of your cowardice. Your actions were idiotic and reckless. What you say is impossible and illogical, yet you stand here. She would have returned. Masters of the Nexus are clear, nothing or no one can cross between worlds."

The poor boy was mishandled.

"Enough!" finally a different and deeper voice from a corner. "We will have time to debate and analyze after the rifts close. For the moment, careful observation and data collection are prime." It was right. "The rift will stay open only a fixed period of time. We need more information."

Malik was hurt, but he was no longer dying. The young creature was fine with the punishment, he'd expected worse. A much larger streaming device was brought into the room. An expert operated it. In a blink, the entire delegation made of hundreds of Metils shifted to an area close to the rupture in space. There in space was the second rift. It was like the first but only bigger.

"What magic?!" yelled the leader. The Metil army next to the rift was impressive. The edges of the flat plate from which Zexs poured appeared to be unstable. The light and edge changed size from a square to a rectangle. This second rift appeared to Malik to be equally inviting.

"Bastard! Was the anomaly moving this way when you last saw it?" The mirror was advancing in space.

"I do not recall."

"Useless group of deformed particles," murmured the creature.

"Sorry. I don't recall."

"Silence!"

The soldier in the distance was instructed to advanced slowly, avoiding the Zexs and entering the rift. A Zex quickly pulverized him.

"Boy, where you when you entered?" asked the army leader.

"I don't..." he began.

"I will dismantle you myself." The Group was losing patience with him.

A second soldier was instructed to float closer to the rift. This was suicidal. Then, in a flash, the second volunteer was pulverized. An instant later there was an explosion, a small shockwave. The wave spread out through the Purple, pelting them all. Loose rocks were pushed from some of the Metils. Apparently, Malik had been lucky to survive.

Malik felt like this shockwave was his only chance to escape his captors. He needed to be reunited with Sophie. No one would follow him to the rift. The restraints were not really adapted to hold his larger body, and with a push, he slid out of them.

He felt some urgency, a gut feeling. If he stayed here, he would die. They would never believe him. The rift was about to close. He felt like he needed to go back to the ship. He did the only thing he could do: he moved to the only place in the galaxy where these people would not follow. He ran to the rift. The army watched in horror as he did.

In seconds, Malik touched the plate, avoided the Zexs and was gone.