“Heard about the Meat Parade?” Eron said.

“That a tri-lateral coalition of Atlanta, Richellia and the American Remnant eradicated the largest parade in years? That they have put an end to the cannibal scourge?”

Cal fiddled with the magitech satellite.

He made sure all the screws, nuts, bolts and other fasteners were tight, but not too tight while running the software diagnostic while moving it into its perfect orbit while checking said orbit for potential obstacles, like old satellites and other space debris.

“It’s great news, dude! I, for one, am encouraged by people that hate each other working together for the common good.”

“If it lasts.”

“At least it’s another death knell for the Meat Parade.”

“True, but not for the flesheater.”

“Double true. There’s always sick fuckers out there wanting to eat other people.”

“Not always. Sometimes it isn’t their fault.”

“Yeah, I guess if you’re forced then you’re forced. Sucks, but it all leads to the same place. The more people you eat the more people you want to eat.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“Sometimes you just have to. Not all causes are winnable. Ten years is a long time to run your ethically dubious rehab program.”

“Is it though? Is ten years too long when we might live for centuries?”

“At some point you’re just prolonging their suffering. Then there’s the risk of escape.”

“Which is almost zero and only because I can’t intellectually accept that a hundred percent certainty exists in reality.”

“Fine, but even that is only because you exist. Anything happens to you… think of the consequences… not that I’d want that. Knock on wood.”

“Can you stop talking for a minute or two? I’m trying to set this up.”

Eron chuckled.

“You can do, like, a thousand things at the same time while giving each thing a hundred percent level of attention.”

“How about you’re mouth breathing is using up all the oxygen.?”

“Nice try, but I remember,” Eron tapped his temple, “you can turn that carbon dioxide back into oxygen. Not that I need oxygen anyways.”

“Well, I do.”

“You can hold your breath for hours. Shit, you can make oxygen in your lungs. So, technically, it doesn’t matter.”

“How about… I just wanted to talk to my brother while I worked.”

“Dude, they why tell me to shut up?”

“I forgot you got annoying sometimes.”

“And I forgot you got asshole-ish sometimes.”

“I apologize.”

“Thank you. So, is it me or is re-breathing a little gross? Though not as bad as drinking your own pee like in Boy’s power armor,” he shuddered.

“He got over it quick. Said it tasted like fresh spring water from an alpine stream.”

“How’s he doing? Lera’s been wanting to visit again. She got really sad about missing Christmas.”

“He’s fine. Living for the training. Getting his suspension extended for the rest of the first year really hurt him, but we’ve got him focused on the positives.”

“Man, that’s tough. Little guy’s wanted to be a ranger since he could talk.”

“He’s getting better training with the teams and the Threnosh, which is a double-edged sword. We’re making him into the best possible ranger candidate. Nila and I have mixed feelings about that.”

“Yeah, I hear that. But, I think we can’t make them fit into the lives that we want them to live.”

“It’s a damn dangerous life he wants.”

“Agreed, but realistically, their lives are going to be dangerous just because of who they are. I want Lera to play with baby unicorns and glitter ferrets while frolicking through meadows for the rest of her life, but that’s just not realistic. Someone’s always going to want a piece of her, you know? Either cause she’s a threat to them or they want to control her for her powers.”

“… glitter what?”

“They’re not really ferrets. It’s a fey animal, looks like a ferret with wings that sprinkle dust that looks like glitter that tastes like different fruits. They’re actually sweet little creatures. Not at all like most of the shits in the fae realm.”

“And I thought you said unicorns were dicks?”

“Not when they’re babies. Kind of like us in that way.”

The panel on the satellite blinked flashing lights and beeped urgently.

“Done?”

“Yeah.”

Cal moved it out of his telekinetic bubble.

The cylinder was about as wide around as a man and as tall as a child.

It opened up to unfurl sail-like panels, using small jets to maneuver into its orbit.

Eron pulled a smartphone from his pocket.

“Goddamn that thing is awesome! I’m already hooked up to the network!”

“Great. Can you start the calibration process?”

“Yay, GPS is back! Some people will be happy.”

“It’s more than GPS. Worldwide internet potential minus the need for cables and towers. Unprecedented threat detection—”

“You mean spying.”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to use it to watch what people are doing in their homes.”

“Unless their serial killers or serial rapists or serial cann—”

“C’mon, man, give me a break. I’m more concerned about spotting outworld invaders setting up death dungeons like those Faeran I’m going to help you deal with soon.”

“Alright, just… you know, ‘who watches the watchmen’, that sort of thing is something good people have to think about and I know you’re a good guy.”

Cal sighed.

“It’s not the internet. I was thinking of calling it the ‘omninet’. It’ll be absolutely free. People just need a wi-fi capable device.”

“Putting the servers on the moon was a great idea. Can’t be fucked with up there.”

“Expect by us or people like us.”

“Not that many, so my point stands. Alright, calibration started.” Eron tucked his phone away. “Just need to fly to the places on the list?”

“Yeah, try to connect and test out the GPS a little. Move slow and fast, see what kind of lag you get. I’ll set up the rest of the satellites.”

“Just let me know when to calibrate those, see you, bro.”

Eron floated face first into an invisible wall.

“C’mon, man, why you got to be immature?”

“You moved too fast.” Cal snorted.

He sealed his younger brother in a bubble within a bubble before pushing him out into the void of space.

Eron rolled his eyes before zipping back down to Earth as a burning streak of fire cutting through the atmosphere.

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

Cal landed on the balcony.

He unlocked the glass door with a thought and slid it open.

“Hey, love!”

Nila hopped over for a quick peck on the lips.

“Oh! Authentic Filipino food! Smells so good!”

“Straight from Manila and still hot!”

“I’ve been waiting all day for this!”

He floated many bags over to the kitchen and unpacked everything.

“Where’s, Boy? I texted him.”

“Probably studying in his room.”

He knocked on their son’s door while setting the table.

Alin came out a few minutes later with tousled hair and a wide yawn.

“Hey, Dad,” he mumbled.

“How was the nap?”

“Feels like it didn’t happen. You got food? Smells pretty good.”

His son’s eyes cleared as he gradually woke up.

“I got the stuff you like and some of the weird stuff. Balut, Dinuguan, Chicharrón Bulaklak and a few other classics.”

“Yeah… I’m gonna pass on all of that, except for the chicharrón.”

“Try them. You might like them.”

“I remember trying most of that at least once and would not recommend.”

“That was a long time ago. Tastes evolve with age,” Nila said.

“True, I guess,” Alin shrugged. “Please pass me a chicken embryo… I might as well get it over with.”

Cal floated one from the bag into his son’s hands.

“What about you, love?”

“Sure,” Nila held a reluctant hand out.

“Break the top of shell and hope you don’t see the actual chick,” he grinned.

“Dad, you don’t even like this.”

“The juice isn’t bad. The rest is just like a hard-boiled egg.”

“Yeah, minus the baby chicken.”

Alin gingerly used a finger nail to crack and peel away the shell and inner membrane.

“Oh god… I see it,” he groaned.

“I don’t! Lucky!” Nila crowed.

Cal muttered a curse.

“Ha!”

“C’mon, Mom, you’ve still got to eat the thing just like us.”

“Half the struggle is the visuals.” Nila did a little dance as she removed enough of the shell to pop the contents into her mouth in one go. Her faced scrunched as she chewed like a desperate chipmunk. “No beak, no feathers!”

“Aww, crap! I think I can see feathers.”

“Rookie mistake, Boy. Your mom’s right. Either you eat it in the dark or you don’t look.”

“Dad, you’re using your powers to cheat.”

Indeed, Cal had closed his eyes and used his power to remove the shell before floating the disgusting mass into his mouth.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

His son took a deep breath and followed suit.

They chewed as if they were in a race.

Their expressions were eerily similar as they choked it down.

“Yup, still hate it.”

“Then why?” Alin shook his head.

“It’s like your mom said.”

“Yeah, but you’re old.”

“Can’t get stuck in my ways,” he shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to circle back every few years to see if my food tastes evolved.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got some pointy bits stuck in my teeth, so I’m gonna have to call shenanigans on that.”

Alin went back into the hallway.

“Where are you going?”

“To floss and brush my teeth. Go ahead and start dinner without me.”

“Um… I just noticed you got three bags of the Balut. I’m not eating another. Just to be clear,” Nila said.

“I’m going to pass them out to the guys at the meeting later. Team building exercise, you know.”

“Evil,” she nodded. “I think I’m going to attend this one. Wait? What about the vegetarians and vegans?”

“Durian.”

“Double evil.”

They sat down to wait for their son’s return.

“I said it was cool if you started without me,” Alin sighed.

His son’s face had seemed to be in a perpetual scowl over the last six months.

The only time Alin had cracked a smile was when he talked to Kat on the phone or on Sundays when he got to hang out with her and his friends.

“I also brought snacks. The classics. Choc Nut, hopia, polvoron, dried mango, chocolate-covered dried mango.”

“Cool,” Alin mumbled as he spooned a white, creamy stew on the bed of rice on his plate. “Wait- this is that Bicol Express, right? Not that stuff with liver chunks?”

“Yup. I hate that other stuff.”

“You hate, like, half of this stuff and that’s the one you didn’t bring?”

“There are lines that can’t be crossed,” he nodded sagely.

“Would you like some Dinuguan, Boy?” Nila tried to pass a small styrofoam container with a stew that was a deep, dark brown color that was almost black.

“Ha,” Alin said flatly. “Nice try, Mom. There are lines that can’t be crossed. It’s been over a decade, but I haven’t forgotten about that ‘chocolate’ pork.”

“Love?” she tried to pass it to Cal.

“I got that for you,” he demurred.

“I like the rest of it,” Alin said, perhaps a tad defensively.

The majority of the table was covered with dishes that, honestly, all three preferred over the more exotic fare.

One could never truly go wrong with deep-fried pork belly or the assorted types of grilled meats and seafood.

“I even like sisig and that’s made from pig face.”

“You’ll eat that, but not cooked pig’s blood.” Cal shook his head at his son. “The generational disconnect is real. Oh, don’t forget to thank your grandparents for the snacks. They went all out. So many different flavors. A lot we can’t get here.”

“You can share with your friends,” Nila said.

Alin’s eyes narrowed, shifting to the kitchen counter tops.

Every surface was covered with bags and boxes that sat in orderly stacks two, sometimes, three feet high.

It was easy to read his son’s expression and thoughts without actually reading his thoughts.

Cal imagined Alin’s thought process.

But, I don’t want to share. Well… maybe with Kat. She likes sweets. I know, I’ll take some with me this Sunday, but I’ll leave most of it at Aunt Rayna’s house. That way I’ll have a backup stash that’ll last me longer cause the stuff here won’t. Mom and Dad are super greedy about snacks. They say it’s not healthy for me, but I know the truth. I’ll have to make it so that Aunt Rayna doesn’t know about my stash. I’ll make her think I gave it all to my friends.

The family spoke while they ate.

Cal was surprised that Alin hadn’t mentioned the Omninet that he had spent the last few days setting up.

“Have you had a chance to check out the new Omninet?”

“Oh, yeah. A little bit. Really busy with training and studying. Been getting a lot of weird messages though.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah. Like, pictures and videos of angry cats and dogs, but with, like, misspelled text that I think someone else overlaid on top of the original. Grandma and Grandpa started it. Then the aunts, uncles and cousins started replying with more. I had to put my phone on silent. Probably, shouldn’t have linked it to my helmet and glasses. I got smashed by Primal the other day because this dog being all mad about being a potato popped up in my HUD.”

“Did you set this all up for the memes, Cal?” Nila said. “Because I’d say that not having them all these years was a positive.”

“No. You know why we set this all up. And it wasn’t just me. Not even primarily me. Hundreds of techmages and associated classes in conjunction with the Threnosh put in the real work.”

“Oh, right, Mom… remember what we were talking about?”

“Digital monsters,” Nila nodded.

“A distinct possibility, but we took that into account. People with the appropriate classes and Skills are closely monitoring the entire system. Worst case scenario? We pull the plug. I’m not too concerned. We’ve had a limited cellular and local area networks for years and no cyber monsters popped up.”

“So far.” Nila raised a brow.

“Nooo, don’t jinx it,” Cal groaned theatrically before knocking on the table.

“I guess it’s pretty cool that I can send messages to grandma and grandpa from my phone. Don’t have to walk all the way to the spire and spend points to do it. The weird memes or whatever? Not as cool. Don’t really get it. I guess it’s an old people thing,” Alin shrugged.

“You’ll get used to it.”

“I doubt it, Dad.”

“So, what else have you been up to?”

“Training. Studying.”

“How have the past few days gone?”

“Fine.”

“You said you got smashed?”

“Yeah.”

Ah… the return of monosyllabic teenager.

Cal remembered being one once long ago.

“How’s the food? Not too spicy? I asked for a step up on the spice.”

“It’s good.”

“Did you get this all from one place?” Nila chimed in.

“Actually, three. All on the same block. Close to where the whole fog thing ended. You guys should try the chicharrón while it’s still fresh. It’s not the same if you have to reheat.”

“They used to be bad for your heart,” Nila said. She glanced over at their son. “Maybe, don’t eat more than two, yeah?”

“It’s cool, Mom. I’m working out, like, all the time.”

“I know you need the calories, but the oil it’s cooked in is just bad for you.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

“Hey, after the meeting, do you guys want to play a game?” Cal said.

“Nah. I have to sleep.”

“He’s like your opposite. In bed before ten. Did you know your dad would sometimes skip a night’s sleep? And this was before the spires when he definitely needed to sleep,” Nila said.

“Uh huh.”

“I was always a night owl growing up, which I think combined with poor nutrition is why I’m so short,” Cal sighed.

Alin nodded.

“I was kind of a picky eater. Obviously, if I could do it all over again I’d eat as much as I could regardless of the taste. That and sleep more. At least you don’t have that problem, Boy.”

“I guess.”

They ate and talked.

Even the array of grilled meats failed to elicit more than a few grudging words from his son.

Dessert, similarly varied and great, failed to crack the impenetrable bastion of Alin’s brooding.

His son excused himself with a mumbled ‘thanks’ and retreated back into his room as soon as they finished.

Cal raised a brow.

Nila raised a brow.

She pointed to her lips and ears, then down toward their son’s room.

“Gossip protocols engage,” he said. “He can’t hear us.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but can you lean on the rangers and make them take him back for the next quarter?” Nila said. “He’s stopped acting like a kid. It’s just training and studying every waking hour. When he’s not doing one of the two he’s brooding.”

“It’s tough to watch, but it seems normal considering his circumstances. Ask my parents and they’d tell you that I went through years angry at the world.”

“Well, we should change his circumstances. I don’t want him angry at the world for years. And I still think his punishment is way overboard for what he actually did.”

“You— let me correct that— we would rather him not be in the rangers. That outcome may lie at the end of this current road.”

“Not at the cost of his happiness.”

“Agreed.”

“Then?” she looked at him expectantly.

“I won’t lean on them to change the punishment, but maybe I can help with his feeling isolated from his friends. The Threnosh are done building the training complex. All that’s left is safety testing and calibration. Once it’s ready we can invite his friends over to try it out. Make it a once or twice a week thing.”

Nila’s eyes narrowed.

“The rangers will want to use it too. If they don’t want Boy’s friends to train with him then we’ll leverage that carrot over their heads. Should we tell him? I don’t want to get his hopes up.”

“I think he’d rather we did. He won’t like it if he thinks we’re doing this to baby him.”

“He is sensitive about the idea that he’s privileged.”

Cal shrugged.

“That’s just the truth.”

“I know, but he’s driving himself too hard because of it.”

“It’s who he is. It’d be worse if we tried to force him into someone he isn’t.”

“Fine,” she pouted. “What’s on the meeting agenda?”

“You get all the communications.”

“I skimmed it.”

“Oh? What topics interest you the most?”

“The most?” she tapped her chin. “Skyships and golems.”

“Been working on the latter for years,” he sighed. “Finally got her to agree to start a trial project with us. Honestly, it was the chance to work with the Threnosh and their tech that did it.”

“More defense will help me sleep better at night. I don’t like the increase in spawn zone spawnings. We’re handling it fine right now, but if the rate keeps going up we’re going to start having problems with burnout. The extra people you’ve brought in are leveling good, but there isn’t an unlimited supply of them.”

“I know,” he sighed, “maybe I can fit in a round of clearings after I get back from the next Quest.”

“Don’t worry. Hopefully, we have more time before the next hammer drops on our toes. Now, skyships or landships?” she arced a brow.

“Hoverships?”

“We already have— had those.”

The prototypes built around the float stones Eron had discovered worked pretty well.

They could hit speeds in the triple digits through the use of magitech-modified jet engines with thrust vectored control. Propellers were much slower, but traded that off for significantly better energy consumption efficiency. Sails required no energy, but were way too slow and left them dependent on the strength and direction of the wind and for obvious reasons didn’t work well in city streets.

The latter would’ve been best at higher altitudes where the wind was stronger and there were no obstructions, but they hadn’t managed to figure out how to float the skyship above ten feet.

“They’re a good replacement for cars as is when using propellers. Even if they never get them to actually fly. We’re screwed if the spires stop gas stations from making gas out of nothing.”

“Costs have gone up.”

“Stabilized,” she pointed out. “One giant monster kill and you provide enough gas for everyone in this region for six months.”

“That’ll only remain true if giant monsters keep spawning. And that’s not taking into account the costs of keeping grocery stores and such producing. The spires want conflict. Taking any one of those things away will create conflict. Anything else you might’ve found interesting?”

“Um… the permanent portal site?”

“That a statement or a question?”

“Why not both?” she punched his arm. “All I know is that I don’t have enough people here to guard the builders. That goes double if it turns out that Ms. Teacher’s right and its mere existence will attract wandering monsters. Triple if it’s going to pull spawn zone monsters too.”

“You want the Cliffs Notes or you want to wait for the meeting?”

“Again, why not both?”

“I’m getting more people.”

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

Time was perhaps the one resource Cal always lacked.

More time to prepare for what was certain to come in regards to the spires, the eidolon-controlled Old America and any number of threats all over the world.

Different species of varying levels of evil seemed to be arriving through the spires on a daily basis.

New monsters, stronger and fiercer, emerged from spawn zones at a greater rate.

Conflict-driven Earthians grew aggressive due to the shared concern that they were running out of time to safeguard their very existence.

Levels and other rewards showed them that they were doing the right thing from a perspective.

He flew north when he’d rather spend time with his family.

Nila wasn’t showing it, but she was getting run a little ragged while he spent days and weeks at a time away from home.

Alin was showing the pressures of a life that seemed to be shoving challenges at him from all directions. He hadn’t felt like he could breathe since… since as long as he could remember. That had become his normal.

A mind could be soothed or forced to relax, but that was a step too far.

He’d never do that to his son.

Flesheaters, however?

How far would he go for rehabilitation?

How far should he go?

The prison… his prison sat along his flight path.

He scanned its inhabitants as he flew over and found nothing that needed his personal attention. Though, he was overdue for a personal visit.

Just another item on his ever-lengthening list of responsibilities.

Sacramento.

To see old friends off on a grand adventure of their on to another world.

To pick up a trio for rehabilitation.

The city’s lights shined in the distant dark.

A thunderbird screeched a bolt of lightning across his flight path.

The giant supersonic bird dragged a raging storm cloud in its wake as it streaked toward him from miles away.

Distance shrunk quickly at those speeds.

He was close to Sacramento and he didn’t want to ruin his friends’ last night on earth with a thunderstorm.

The air burned in his wake as he went hypersonic in the blink of an eye.

The thunderbird had no idea what it had done.

It died seconds from the moment it decided to kill the tiny flying thing in far distance.

Its very psyche shredded by blades of pure thought rendering it an empty husk.

The massive body remained alive as Cal forced its lungs to continue working.

Freshness was preferable to the Magus of the Twelve Eyes.

The equipment she and her team created was always better the fresher the monster corpse.

There was nothing fresher than technically alive.

This thunderbird was a large and powerful specimen.

Its feathers and bones would make several winged suits.

Its talons and beak would become deadly weapons.

Even the organs would be used. Turned into mana batteries or crystals aspected to the essences inherent in the thunderbird.

Such was the fate of magical monsters and creatures.

Part of him felt bad, but then the smarter part told it to be quiet.

The thunderbird did attack him unprovoked.

He pulled it behind him, turning back.

He’d only be a few minutes late.