Date: 11th of Choiku, 223 AC, Voice:____, Weather: Cloudy

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The junkyard sedan cut through the lights of the suburban dusk, drifting sharp corners and painting tire tracks upon the mellow asphalt. Reckless driving was no stranger to Harold from his old days as a field detective. With a few more turns and screeches, he arrived at his modest three-story home, nearly knocking over a large clay pot situated at the side of the garage. He quickly got out and opened the passenger door, hoisted Mathis onto his back, and raced to the front door of the house. It was unlocked, unsurprisingly, so no momentum was lost charging towards the living room. His wife, Imogen, was sprawled on the couch with an orange satin dress. She was watching television, some kind of reality show, with cans of beer on the coffee table suggesting she’d given up cooking that night. She glanced over, wondering why her husband was ruffing up so much noise, but immediately jumped off the tan couch when she saw the young boy hoisted on Harold’s back.

“Who is he?” she asked with a slight slur.

“Found him on the side of the road. He was awake for a while, but he passed out along the way. He’s got no pulse.”

As she heard this, a shot of adrenaline kicked in, removing the slight buzz which occupied her before.

“Bring him to the med bay,” she commanded.

Harold shuffled quickly towards a pair of shiny metallic sliding doors which revealed a small self-contained medical unit fitted with two gurneys and a series of medical technologies set around the counters on the side. He gently placed Mathis down on the left gurney and made space for Imogen to do her work. She attached an oxygen mask to Mathis' face which had grown paler in colour and booted up a nearby computer. She rolled up her sleeves, revealing a cybernetic implant in her wrist. She pulled on it and a wire connected to the implant came out. The head of the wire was inserted into the computer and a big yellow box reading ‘ANALYSING’ showed up with a progress bar below it. She pulled up a plastic chair to sit, and waited for the diagnosis to complete.

Once the progress bar reached a hundred percent, a series of digital papers appeared on the screen, informing of Mathis’ condition. Harold tried reading some of the pages but the language was beyond him. He asked Imogen with desperation.

“So? What is it?”

Imogen took a second to read the rest of the pages before answering. “He ate a gogol stem.”

Harold looked concernedly at Mathis. “I didn’t know it could kill you like that!”

“He’s not dead. That’s one of the side effects of the gogol stem. Heart stops working. But respiration still continues from the stem’s particles.”

“I didn’t know it stopped your heart.”

“You were never medically analysed when you were under the influence.”

Harold nodded in agreement but winced frustratedly at the implication.

“He should come to in a couple hours. Maybe an hour and a half with good fortune.”

Harold sighed a breath of relief. He looked over at Imogen. A faint pride in his wife’s work summoned in his heart, but it was quickly offset with the sentiment of her abuse.

He decided to remove himself from the area before he thought too much. As he climbed up the wooden stairs, whiskey was on his mind. The new bottle gifted to him by his secretary was quite smooth and malty and he enjoyed it very much. He thought about how to repay for such a tasteful choice. Before he entered his office, he decided to knock on his son’s room. After a few seconds of no response, he knocked again, this time met with a faint groan from Icillian.

“Come in.”

The door revealed a dimly lit room, only illuminated by the pixel light of Icillian’s devices.

“Isn’t it too dark in here?”

Icillian nodded no.

He was glazing over a piece of homework, pen in hand but not on paper. Harold wanted to slightly reproach him for not having the lights on, but he stopped himself as it seemed too trivial. He walked over to see what Icillian’s homework was on. It was a problem sheet on pure empyreal theory. Harold chuckled nervously in an attempt to be amiable.

“They did not teach none of that when I was a kid. Had to figure out this stuff on our own. Terra doesn't teach these kinds of things.”

Icillian rolled back from his desk slightly and turned to his father.

“I wish I was there, then. The Terran stuff is more, intuitive. You can go from basic principles to understand, you know, phenomena. Empyreal stuff like this. It’s just rote learning. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Like, you learn one thing, and that’s it. It has no relation to any other thing, no use to solving a problem which, if you don’t know the answer to, you’re screwed.”

Harold smiled as he looked at an action figure on Icillian's shelf. “I felt the same way about economics in high school. But there were building blocks to that. They just weren’t as primitive as say, numbers, or addition. You’ll get the hang of it.” He patted Icillian gently on the back. “By the way, we need to get take out tonight. Your mom’s–” Icillian stared at his father with a neon blue digital eye and a pronounced frown. Harold understood exactly what he meant, but reassured him. “She’s got a patient in the med bay. Some kid I picked off the road.”

“Oh.” Icillian turned back to his work, hiding his face of guilt for assuming.

Harold stared on.

“She was a couple of ‘em in. Regardless. What do you want tonight?”

Icillian pondered for a second before stating “pizza.”

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

As the door closed, Icillian looked back at his problem sheet. He looked over for the umpteenth time at the question which stumped him. ‘For Kans, does variety or harmony have a greater influence on total power? If so, outline the chosen reaction path.’ Icillian stared at the words with no idea in mind what the answer was. Sometimes harmony was more powerful than variety but other times it was the other way around. It was dependent on the overall context, wasn't it? But he knew he couldn't waffle like that for the exam. There was a specific answer the examiner wanted which could be found in the dense, prolix textbook he'd been given at the start of the year. But in the time he’d find the answer, it would have been time to sleep. He looked at the rest of the questions and realised most of them required equal amounts of scavenging in the textbook. He felt overwhelmed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. A faint buzz came upon his face as the blood exited it from gravity.

After a few moments, he remembered his father mentioning a kid in the med bay. He decided to investigate.

When the sliding doors opened, he saw his mother sitting next to the kid. Didn’t look any older than he was. He was in some kind of smart wear which was singed in places. He had matte black hair and his skin was a pale olive. When his mother saw him walk in she immediately perked up and set aside the instrument she was using to check the kid’s vitals.

“Hi sweetie! How have you been?” She extended her arms out in preparation for a hug, but Icillian continued to stare at the boy, noting his features. She retracted her arms and went back to checking the boy’s vitals. After a few seconds of silence, Icillian asked “What’s up with him?”

“Oh, He ate a gogol stem which stopped his heart rate but it’s non-lethal because the main active ingredient in the stems is –”

“Ok”. He abruptly left.

Imogen felt hurt but knew she couldn’t reproach him for it. A flood of emotions and memories washed upon her, of Icillian’s youth, when they used to be much closer, when he used to come to her for support or just a little hug, even when other mothers extended their arms to him. But now, it was a completely different story. It happened so fast as well. Just last year Icillian was still fond of his mother’s affection, but almost in a week’s time he turned the coin and treated her like a stranger. She’d heard from other mothers how boys tend to break free from their mother’s clutches around that age, but she’d still held out hope that Icillian would be different. Not many other thirteen year old boys still came to mom from time to time to be held by her. But reality caught up, she supposed. Still, it was the abruptness which caught her off guard. He wouldn’t even say anything without her instigation. And when he did, he always seemed angry at her, resentful. A shadow came upon her face as she thought about all this. She looked over at the boy on the gurney, wondering what kind of a boy he was, whether he showed affection to his mother or not. She gently caressed the boy’s matte hair, subconsciously pretending he was her own son. “Oh. My dear child. My silly little melon.”

Mathis wondered why he was being felt up by a middle-aged individual for the second time. He’d kept his eyes shut as the room lights were too harsh and the bed was surprisingly comfy. He’d caught glances of the doctor beside him. She was a middle-aged woman in an elegant satin dress who was quite beautiful though she had the occasional deep crease along her face. The way she muttered to herself reminded him of Percy when he was tipsy, but he tried not to jump to that conclusion. Everything was fine until the woman started caressing his hair. He initially thought it was part of the medical procedure, but when she called him a ‘silly little melon’, he’d had enough.

Stolen novel; please report.

“I’m sorry ma’am, what are you talking about?”

Imogen was startled by the boy’s sudden utterance. She recoiled back in her chair but caught herself on one of the countertops.

“Dear me! You gave me a fright! I didn’t know you were awake already. How long have you been up?”

“Couple minutes, I guess.”

“Ok. ok. Do you remember the last thing that happened to you?”

Mathis turned to the opposite wall, almost as if it would speak to him on how he passed out and ended up here. “I was, at a gas station. Driven there by a guy named Harold. He was buying some food. I got out of the car, started walking around. And then…and then...”

He looked back at Imogen who was intently listening.

“I uh, ate something from the ground. It wasn’t a potato. I don’t know if potatoes can grow in the desert.”

“Was it a stem of some kind?”

“Yeah, yeah. Tasted pretty good, surprisingly.”

“Then the diagnosis was correct. You ate a gogol stem. Quite plentiful in desert climates. It's not bad for you but it does have certain hallucinogenic properties and one of the side effects is your heart stops working.”

Mathis raised an eyebrow. “So. Did I die?”

“Not quite. The compounds within the gogol stem do the job of transporting oxygen and carbon dioxide through your body, so technically you’re still respiring which is why your brain activity doesn’t cease.”

Mathis took all the information in, understanding most of it.

“Am I going to be fine?”

“Yes, yes. You may be in a slight fugue state for the next day or so, but you’ll be back to normal after that. Gogol stems are quite popular amongst recreational drug users in this town for a reason. But they are illegal.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok. You didn’t know. All that matters is you take some time to get your heart beating again, because with such a long period of inactivity, your body needs to learn how to respire normally again.”

Mathis nodded. “Thanks. For everything. What’s your name?” he asked nervously.

“I’m Imogen, Harold’s wife.”

“Oh. Ok. Also. Where exactly am I?”

“Let’s get you some fresh air. I'll tell you along the way.”

One pepperoni and one vege mix sauntered about in the ‘Terrafic Pizza’ plastic bag as Harold strolled back home. From the last corner before his street, he spotted a couple people standing next to a street sign. One of them was pointing towards him. As he got closer, he realised it was his wife with Mathis at her side. He’d changed into a fresh pair of casual clothes and his skin had gotten back most of its usual colour. They spotted Harold from a few hundred metres away. Mathis waved.

“Reborn again, Lazarus.”

“Something like that.”

“Getting familiar with the neighbourhood?”

Imogen responded. “Yes. I was just telling him how to get into town.”

Mathis looked down at the bag Harold was carrying and when he noticed the contents, his mouth started watering.

“You hungry?”

They sat down at the wooden kitchen table under an ornate floral lamp. It’s metallic petals curved inwards at the edges of the table. Its golden tone resulted in a warm hue which faded softly into the darkness outside.

Imogen called out to Icillian and a couple minutes later he appeared with a drowsy look on his face. But when he spotted the boy on the gurney sat down on the dining chair looking back at him, he was aroused with suspicion and a touch of curiosity. He held his arm out.

“Hey. I’m Icillian.”

They boy returned the arm.

“Mathis. I don’t think we’ve met.”

Icillian chuckled and sat down in his chair.

As the four settled in, Harold distributed the slices and suggested “Why don’t we all introduce ourselves properly to our guest here? Make him feel at home.”

“I’ll start,” Imogen offered. “My name is Imogen Wayming. I’m a cyber-nurse at the Rioba hospital in the city. I’m originally from Cliboso but moved here to Hagou to pursue my nursing degree. My hobbies include bed manufacturing and watching ‘Pan-Atlantic Smokescreen.’ My favourite colour is pink.” She said the last clause with a girly tone, something which made Mathis confused more than anything, but he nodded in apparent understanding. Imogen pointed her hand to Harold, beckoning him to speak. As he started, he covered his mouth as he was chewing. “I’m Harold Wayming. Grew up in Terra, small place called Bismarck, North Dakota. Dad was a native Terran, mom was a Laetig. I signed up for police school instead of going to university. I was stationed in Tennessee for a couple years. It's another state in the same country. I then got transferred over here to Hagou. Liked the town so I decided to stay. Climbed up the ranks to become chief after, I’d say, eleven years. Stepped down from that position a few years later. Now I’m one of the security representatives at Hagou parliament. I discuss policy and whatnot.”

Mathis was about to comment how well-off the family seemed because of his illustrious career, but bit his tongue in fear of offending them. Harold continued. “My hobbies include bottle collecting, driving, and…” He spaced off trying to remember his own interests. “I forget. Icillian?”

Icillian reluctantly put his slice down and began in a groggy tone. Mathis stared intently as he was the most visually striking of the family. The left portion of his face was mostly covered with shiny metal plating. His iris was neon blue and faintly emitted a light. Even his hair was quite peculiar as it was a cool brown which flowed like clouds outward. He looked like someone out of a comic book.

“Hi. I’m Icillian. I’m a cyber-kan hybrid, same as mom. I’m currently studying at HEA, uh, Hagou Empyreal Academy. I like reading comics, drawing them as well. Yeah.”

Harold looked at the both of them. “I hope you boys get along. Mathis?”

“Huh?”

“Introduce yourself, please.”

Mathis leaned and relaxed against the bamboo body of the chair, staring up into the light nestled in the floral lamp. “I’m Mathis. I’m from a little mountainside town called Pomohei. I worked and lived at a coffee house run by my guardian, Percy. I attend EAI, Empyreal Academy of Ibanka. I started last year.” He noticed from the corner of his eye the family looking at him intently, their eyes betraying more than just a passive curiosity of who he was. He suddenly became aware of how strange his presence must have been. A random boy who got picked up on the side of a mountain road from a place thousands of kilometres from their hometown. It was unknown how he’d managed to end up there, even to himself. Memories of the last things that happened before waking up on the roadside came flooding back. Coming home from school early because of the explosion nearby, the coffee house window being fixed from the night prior, the Sheifel bridge, the visions. What were the visions about? His own vision started failing as he stared longer and harder into the floral lamp. He was paralysed by confusion, a lack of understanding of what had happened in the last waking hours. His world had been turned upside down and he didn’t have an easy way in mind to turn it back.

“Honey?” Imogen said sharply.

Mathis shook his head. He’d spaced out thinking about everything. As he diffidently looked down on the bright ceramic plate in front of him, he apologised.

“Sorry. It’s just been, a lot of things have happened recently. I don’t think I’ve quite comprehended them all.”

Harold looked at his downwards expression with understanding.

“You’ve been through quite a bit recently. It’s okay if it doesn’t all make sense. Just try to make yourself at home here. You’ll be here for a while.”

Mathis looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Imogen repeated.

Harold pushed his plate to the centre of the table, indicating he’d finished. He rubbed his hands together, getting the excess pizza dust off his fingers.

“Communications towers in the Violet Sea district have been shot. Something about a series of explosions. Initial reports suggest gas leaks, but... It’s under investigation. For now, no form of electronic contact goes into the district and nothing comes out. Laminal Terminal’s been cut off as well. It’s a completely isolated zone until the investigation finishes.”

Icillian chewed on a piece of crust. “What exactly are they investigating?”

“That’s what I don’t know. It’s quite unusual for a town to enact such drastic measures for some gas leaks. I’ve heard rumours they’re bringing in scripts to investigate as well, meaning monsters or wayward Rhyleans. I think they’re suspecting it may have been a coordinated series of bombings. Terrorist activity, perhaps.”

A shudder of fear ran up through Mathis’ spine. He’d always seen reports of terrorists, both Rhylean and Terran alike, enacting violence in places far from his sphere of care. But to consider it done so close to his own home… He clasped his fists under the table tightly.

“How long would it take by car?”

Harold checked his watch. “By car? Oh, a cool four days of travel.”

Mathis released his hands, but fear kept coursing through him.

“I think it’d be better to wait it out here until the LT comes back online. Hagou’s a beautiful city, if you give it a chance. Icillian here will try to make you feel at home. As soon as we can get in contact with the town again, we'll contact your guardian and you can get back. Meanwhile, Icillian, show him the good spots. I’m going to my office.” With that amiable speech and a paternal pat on Mathis' slumped shoulder, Harold left the table.

Mathis stared off towards the back porch. Knowing it’d be a while before he could return home suddenly made it feel a lot farther away. “Something about taking things for granted, I guess.”

A luminous purple frog sat on the glass table outside. It croaked into the empty night. Dragonflies buzzed around it, but it didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t care. It continued croaking. Icillian subtly glanced over at Mathis, taking note of his lost expression. Seeing how he was about to be bunking with this kid for the next, well, however long, suddenly made him a lot more interested in his story.

When everyone had finished their share, Imogen packed the rest of the slices in one box and handed the other to Icillian. He snapped the box in half over his knee and threw it in the trash chute which promptly whisked it away for garbage sorting. “Hey,” Icillian called to Mathis. “Follow me, I’ll show you my room.”

When they entered the room, Mathis was struck by the amount of space he had. Clothes were neatly sectioned in an embedded wardrobe, books occupied the bookshelves lining the walls instead of on the floor. It was more of what Mathis wished his room was as opposed to his inconvenient reality. Icillian pulled out a mattress from under his own bed and then opened his wardrobe to pull out spare bedding, blankets, and pillows for Mathis to use.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Mathis offered to put the bedding on himself, but Icillian refused.

Once the bed was complete, the boys settled into their respective spaces and Icillian raised his hands towards the light to turn it off. They stared off into the dark ceiling, subliminally excited to get to know the other. The silence finally was broken by Icillian.

“So what do you think of EAI?”