#I DID plant them slightly below ground they just kind of eroded to the top over time

[pearl-kite]

Want to see some neat things about how irises grow?

Remember when I dug up and divided ALL of my irises at my parents' place a few years back? And how I ended up with 50 rhizomes, and I had bought 9 more just a bit before that?

Well, my mom wants to try to amend the soil because it's not great. Most of the irises have just been surviving, but not well enough to bloom, and everything else planted in the area struggles similarly. In order to amend the soil, though, I needed to dig them all up.

Again.

I dug up 44 rhizomes this time, which is honestly a bit better than I expected. I knew that not all of the ones I put in were going to survive, but I was still surprised by how many I just dug up today.

Anyway, the learning bit!

So irises aren't bulbs, they're rhizomes. Each year they put up leaves at one end, and over time they kind of end up migrating in that direction. If they do really well at gathering and storing energy, instead of just continuing forward, they'll fork, putting up leaves on two sides and a stalk with blooms in the center. The following year, the pattern continues, going forward from each side of that fork. If a rhizome does REALLY well, you'll end up with a bunch of forks spreading out.

The one on the left has survived, but not gone very far, and the white at the end shows that I accidentally broke some of the old rhizome off when I was digging it back up. It also happens to be a dwarf variety, so the rhizome is smaller to begin with; all my other photos are of intermediate and tall bearded irises with much larger rhizomes.

The one on the right has done well enough to grow forward for a few years, with the oldest of the rhizome at the bottom (still healthy and full of stored energy!) and the newest year's growth at the top. Looking at the rhizome itself, I'd guess that one is about 4 years (which makes sense, 'cause I think I did the splitting back in 2020).

The one on the left bloomed this year; you can see the flower stalk dried out in the center, and the new fork in the rhizome to the sides. Next year, they'll continue in those two directions, and it won't go forward from the stalk any longer.

The one on the right bloomed a few years back, and though it kept growing forward from there, it hasn't bloomed since. The other side of the fork also died off, and it's now only growing in one direction again.

Last but most certainly not least we have THIS beast. This one has bloomed the last two or three years in a row. I honestly can't tell if the guy at the bottom right is part of the same rhizome or another one I planted too close that got subsumed by this monster, because it took ten minutes to get most of the clay off and there was still more. I'll need to actually rinse it off with the hose to really see if it's all one plant or two.

But I'm 95% sure that this guy is going to bloom again next year because of those nubs down along the bottom. They were below the soil, and they're too thick to be new roots, so I'm guessing that's what future growth looks like. Honestly, this guy should probably be divided, but I also don't want to ruin the chance of it blooming next year, so I'm going to put him back in the dirt as is and maybe divide next year after blooming season.

Anyway, irises are my favorite, and I think it's intriguing how they work. I'm hoping that we can get the soil a bit more balanced and that they'll do better after replanting them, because even though I just dug up 44, we only had 4 or 5 bloom this year. They aren't thriving in the soil as-is, because for as long as they've been established we should have had more blooming than that. It was still the best year since dividing them, though.

I've brought a bunch of them over to my apartment and I'm going to try them out in containers, mostly the dwarf varieties I had. ONE of the dwarfs bloomed this year and it was gorgeous, but I'm hoping the rest will do better in new soil with some extra attention.

[sockablock]

I have 3 exams I haven’t studied for and a fever but it’s ok because Chapter 8 is now live and INTENSE and sitting at 6,400+ words and did I mention that it’s INTENSE

——————————————-

Chapter 8: Souls in the Darkness

For a moment, the only sound came from the crawling river of silt below them, and the faintest squeaks of subterranean critters. Then Fjord nodded decisively and turned to the team.

“Alright, everyone,” he said. “Five hundred feet ahead of us is a crossroads. We’ll walk up there and use that as our rendezvous point. Sound good?”  

They nodded.

“Caleb, want to give us some light?”

Four dancing globules of glowing arcana drifted into the air around them.

“Let’s go.”

Their boots sank slightly into the wet dirt, softened by the flow of water and other things that none of them—except possibly Nott—wanted to think about. Caleb’s lights, hovering by their heads, illuminated layers of moss creeping around the tunnel walls and suspended on the ceilings. Despite the faintest breeze curling past their faces, the air felt stale, unused to visitors and unfriendly to trespassers. Every once in a while, a shadow above them would shift slightly as they approached, but nothing ever swooped down in ambush or leapt out to attack.

As they walked forwards, Nott pulled on Molly’s coat and the two of them fell back.

“Yes?” Molly asked once the others had passed.

“You’re going to keep Caleb safe, right?” Nott whispered urgently.

“Of course. It’s what I’m for.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise,” said Molly. “I promise to keep him safe.”

Nott nodded. “Good. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Neither do I,” he sighed. “Neither do I.”

Soon, they reached the larger hollowed-out chamber, a central point in the sewer system with old and fading brick lining the walls. Three large archways opened before them, all leading in different directions.

Caleb lowered his hands, and the dancing lights drew in towards him and Molly. “From now on I will not be able to provide the rest of you light,” he said. “Will you be alright?”

“We’ve got darkvision,” said four people at once. Beau held up her goggles sheepishly.

“And I’ve got torches,” added Yasha.

Caleb sighed, but there was a faint smile on his face. “That is good, then.”

“What time is it now?” Fjord asked.

He looked off into the distance for a moment. “Sundown is in twelve minutes,” he announced.

Fjord nodded. “Alright, gang. Let’s spread out, and in an hour, we’ll all come back here.”

“Be safe, everybody,” said Jester, uncharacteristically soft.

“We will,” Molly reassured.

“We got this,” Beau added.

And then the teams split off, with Caleb and Molly heading north.

——————————

“I am somewhat worried about those two,” Yasha said. “Mollymauk is an excellent fighter, and can damage his opponents significantly in close-up combat, but he is also rather fragile. And he cannot be in two places at once, which will always leave Caleb undefended from one front.”

Nott groaned and reached for her flask. “Oh, why would you say that?” she asked. “Why would you tell me that?”

Yasha blinked. “I am just thinking through the strategy. It was still the best arrangement, given the circumstances.”

“The best arrangement would be us all aboveground, not doing this crazy mission, all going to live,” Nott muttered.

“Unless the big baddie invaded aboveground, then we would live but only for a little longer,” Jester supplied.

Nott considered this. Then she took a swig from her flask.

“Yasha, how long has it been, now?” Jester asked. “Is stuff going to appear soon?”

“A couple more minutes,” Yasha responded. “And it depends on whether or not we are moving in the right direction.”

——————————

“But when you smile, it shouldn’t be strained. Just…just relax all of your muscles and try again.”

As they moved slowly against the trickling sewer-water, Beau tried to school her expression into one of tranquil peace.

“You look like you’re gonna kill someone.”

She scowled. “Look, Fjord, it’s just not going to work for me. I’m not some happy-go-lucky fucking sunshine and rainbows kind of person.”

Fjord sighed. “I know, I know. But it’s just…it would be a lot easier when you deal with folks if you just put on a pleasant face and sound genuine.”

“It’s just not how I am. I can’t fake happiness, and most people just piss me off. Let’s just talk about something else.”

“Er…alright, um…here, why don’t you try and teach me to speak Halfling?”

——————————

Their tunnel opened out into a small chamber. The river of unidentified substances continued to run down the center, though unlike before, where the ground had been mostly eroding stonework, here the chamber floor was muddy earth.

“You are very quiet,” Caleb remarked as they walked on. “Is there something on your mind?”

Molly shrugged. “Not really.”

“You are certain about this?”

“Yeah.”

“Mollymauk, you are giving me monosyllabic answers. This is extremely uncharacteristic of you.”

“You’re talking a lot more,” said Molly defensively, “that’s pretty uncharacteristic of you.”

They both stopped walking. Condensation dripped from the ceiling and tapped faintly against the muddy floors in the silence.

“I’m sorry,” said Molly. “I didn’t mean it. I’m just a bit on edge. All of the ridiculous buildup this last week has been getting at me, I think.”

Caleb nodded. “I understand. I admit I do not like this either. I wish we had more information as to what we are about to face.”

“It’s not just that,” Molly said in a strained voice, “but sewer monsters do weigh in rather heavily at the moment.”

“Is it something you wish to talk about?”

“Maybe later. Although, with all this talk of crazy things happening and people dying, I’ll admit that part of me is worried I’ll never get to say what I want to.”

“You mean…you mean the big secret?”

Molly sighed. “Yes.”

“I see.”

“It’s just…I just want to tell you so badly.”

Caleb gave Molly a friendly pat on the shoulder. “It is alright,” he said. “You don’t need to rush it. We will get rid of whatever this thing down here is, and then you can tell me when you are ready.”

Molly smiled. “Thank you, Caleb. I just hate how much of a coward I’m being about this,” he said, and kicked at the muddy earth. “I mean, I spilled my entire backstory to you lot after knowing you all for less than two weeks. I should be able to admit this in a language we can both understand.”

Caleb shrugged. “Just say the word,” he said. “And I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“I appreci—”

Molly looked at the ground his boot had unearthed. “Oh, fuck!”

Caleb followed his companion’s gaze downwards. He instantly grabbed Molly by the hand and yanked him backwards. 

“Scheisse,” he said, and fought his heartbeat back down. “Is that what I think it is?”

They stared at the tiny patch of dirt in front of them. Just visible above the ground was the tip of a finger, poking towards the sky.

“Yes, and I hate it,” said Molly. “Fuck,” he added for good measure.

“It is green,” said Caleb. “Though that might just be the lighting.”

“I don’t think we should fuck with it,” said Molly. And then he had a terrible thought. “Do you think…do you think there are more around here?”

Caleb looked at his cat, who had trailed them into the chamber and was yawning in a corner.

“Frumpkin is small and good at finding things. He may have a better chance at uncovering more without disturbing them.”

“Seeing as how I kicked that one into existence, I don’t think we should worry too much,” Molly reasoned. “But we should probably try to avoid skin contact. For hygiene’s sake if anything.”

Caleb took this as a yes, and nodded at Frumpkin. The tabby began pacing through the chamber. Every once in a while, he would paw at the ground before moving on.

He uncovered six more fingers, all sticking upwards.

“This is bloody awful,” said Molly.

“It is eerie,” said Caleb. “I do not like the looks of this.”

“Really?”

Caleb sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m just teasing, dear.”

“Do you think there’s…more than just fingers buried here?”

“What, you mean like toes or—”

“Please, Mollymauk.”

There was a pause. “I’m not sure. I honestly don’t know what’s worse, the idea that there are…full bodies down here, or some lunatic planted disembodied fingers into the ground like terrible, fleshy saplings.”

“Thank you for your colorful description.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Should we turn back?”

Molly thought about this. “How long as it been?”

“About exactly twenty-five minutes since we split off.”

“About exactly?”

“Yes.”

Despite the current situation, Molly cracked a grin.  “We can go on for about exactly twenty or so more before heading back. We’re trying to cover as much ground as possible, right? And even if we went back we’d have to wait around for the others too. As long as we’re careful, I think we should be fine.”

“Alright. I will defer to you in this.”

They gave the unearthed fingers a clear berth as they moved through the area and towards the tunnel archway that led further down into the sewer system.

“Hopefully the others are having just as fun of a time as we are,” Molly sighed. “Although I’m not sure how anything can top this.”

——————————

“J’harka.”

“No, no, j’harka.”

“J’harka.”

“Sort of. It was better that time, anyways,” sighed Beau. 

“I’ve never spoken Halfling before,” Fjord shrugged. “I thought I was doing alright.”

“You were. That was a compliment.”

“…I think we should switch gears back to manners training.”

Beau groaned and opened her mouth to protest. But before she could say a word, Fjord suddenly held out a hand and said, softly, “Wait. Look at that.”

Beau followed his gaze towards the left side of the tunnel, a few inches above where the ground met the wall. Poking out against the faded reds and browns of the bricks was a little carving, so small it could almost have been missed completely, except for the soft, grey light it emitted.

“I’m gonna go look at it,” said Beau, and before Fjord could say anything about caution she darted over to investigate. Sighing, he trailed after her.

They crouched down in front of it.

It was a tiny circle, with a sharp, jagged symbol in the middle. Seven small hashes lined the outside of the drawing, each ending in a small dot.

“It looks arcane,” said Beau, “but that’s all I’ve got.”

Something nagged at the back of Fjord’s mind. “It seems like something I should know,” he said, “I just can’t quite put my finger on it.”

He leaned in closer. Suddenly his vision flooded with images that felt alien and familiar all at once, of strange and ancient groups of robed figures standing around cold stone altars, cutting into flesh and removing hearts, of people who could reach into a body and pull out the soul, of individuals who rose to tremendous, eternal power and descended into madness all at the same time and—

Fjord gasped for air, and the visions stopped.

Beau was shaking him by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?” Panic lined the edges of her tone. “You good, Fjord? Hello? Exandria to Fjord—”

He nodded and put up a hand. “I-I’m alright,” he said. “I just think…I think I’ve seen something like this before. It’s dark magic,” he said. “Not something we wanna fuck with.”

“Hold on,” said Beau, “back up, you’ve seen this before?”

Fjord’s mind raced. “Well, not really…it’s sort of like how sometimes I just get impressions of things. Like with the Crawling King. I’m not sure how I know it, I just do.”

“Is this related to the saltwater stuff?” Beau asked with a raised eyebrow.

“…yeah.”

“Alright then,” she nodded, standing up and dusting herself off, “in that case I won’t ask. You say it’s bad shit, should we keep on going?”

Fjord thought for a moment. “I…I think we should. It’s not doing anything right now, and we’ve still got some ground to cover before we go back. As long as we’re careful, it should be alright.”

——————————

“—and then my mother hit him with a candlestick, and he stopped squirming.”

Yasha looked impressed. “She managed to kill him with just a candlestick?”

Jester shrugged. “Rich people usually aren’t all that sturdy. And, you know, I was watching through the keyhole so I am not sure if he actually died or not. But he didn’t come back ever.”

Nott nodded. “That makes sense,” she said, “but why would a rich person be trying to steal your things?”

“Mother has a lot of nice things,” Jester said, “and she never sells any of it or gives it to anybody.” 

Nott considered this point. “I would probably try to steal from her,” she agreed, and then her large yellow eyes scanned the room in case there was anything to steal here.

“Did this sort of thing happen often?” Yasha asked.

“Not really,” said Jester. “But when it did, Mother always took care of it right away.”

“Your mother sounds like a strong woman,” said Yasha.

“Guys?” Nott called.

“Oh, she is!” Jester said excitedly. “She is very strong, and very beautiful.”

“And takes no shit,” Yasha said approvingly.

“Guys?”

Jester giggled. “Oh, no, a lady does not—”

“Guys!?” Nott yelled, and they looked down at her.

“What’s that thing over there?”

Yasha and Jester looked at where Nott was pointing. Etched into the wall, a few inches off the ground, was a small, glowing symbol of some sort.

They moved closer to investigate.

“It is probably magical,” said Jester.

“I agree,” said Yasha. “Do you know anything else about it?”

“Nope.”

Nott sighed. “I wish Caleb were here,” she said.  

“Should we keep going?” Jester asked.

“Yes,” said Yasha. “It is not actively attacking us, which is what Fjord wanted to watch out for, and we still have more ground to move across. We should continue on.”

“I wonder what it is,” Jester mused as they walked.

“Caleb would know,” Nott said.

“Yeah,” Jester said testily, “but he probably wouldn’t even tell us.”

——————————

At the next larger area, the tunnel widened again. Before walking through the arched entrance, Caleb held out a hand to stop Molly, and used the other to gesture Frumpkin to scout ahead.

As the cat dug through the wet dirt—more like a dog than a self-respecting feline—Molly took a moment to think.

“What do you suppose all the fingers were for?” he asked.

Caleb shook his head. “I can think of a few ideas, but I do not like any of them.”

“Try me.”

“Well…it could have been some sort of old burial place? Except that, though I do not know much of the rites of Zadash, I would not expect grieving family members to use fingers as grave markers.”

“Plus we’re in a sewer,” said Molly. “And even if this used to be part of the aboveground, those fingers still have flesh on ‘em. Terrible, really smelly flesh, but still. They’re new-ish.”

“Agreed,” said Caleb. “The idea that I do not like is that we were right about the undead, and someone buried those bodies there for later.”

In the silence that followed, Frumpkin meowed and sat down in the middle of the chamber.

Seven more fingers had been uncovered.

“Now I really don’t want to walk ahead,” sighed Molly.

“Oh? We should head back?”

“No, no, I just meant that as…as a general complaint. We can keep going, same as before, just…carefully. It was fine last time, it should be fine again.”

“I trust you in this.”

Molly felt slightly sick. “Of course. I’m very trustworthy,” he said. “Let’s keep going.”  

——————————

“Look,” said Fjord, pointing back at the wall. “There’s another symbol-thing.”

“What the hell are they?” Beau grumbled. “I don’t like ‘em.”

“It must have taken forever to walk down the halls and engrave so many,” Fjord mused.

——————————

“Didn’t the Gentleman say this stuff’s been going on for a long time, though?” Nott asked. “Like, months at least.”

“That is true,” agreed Yasha. “They only recently noticed, but who can say how long…whatever is doing this…has been doing it for.”

“This is creepy,” Jester mumbled, and the other two nodded.

——————————

“Now, this is a puzzle,” said Mollymauk, bending down to inspect the sigils.

Their tunnel had come to an abrupt end, with nothing but chipped and mossy brick before them. There were a number of fingers here too, and they had almost turned around to go back until Molly had noticed a weird row of engravings, faintly glowing grey, stretched along the bottom of the far wall.

“Be careful,” said Caleb. “We do not know what those are.”

“Well, come over here, magic man, and give them a good look.”

Caleb sighed and walked over, squatting next to the tiefling to get a better angle.  

——————————

“—and then I said—”

“Wait,” Fjord blinked, and Beau went quiet. “Do you hear that?”

——————————

“Nope,” Jester shrugged. “Are you sure you heard something?”

Nott’s large ears flicked up and down. “I could have sworn I did,” she said. “It was so quiet, but it was there.”

——————————

“They are arcane for sure,” Caleb said. “Give me a minute. I believe I can tell you what they do.”

“Sure,” said Molly, leaning back and looking at the rest of the markings. Then he blinked. “Hey, are these things glowing brighter?”

——————————

Beau’s grip on her staff tightened, and she looked around. She strained her ears. “I got nothing.”

Fjord frowned. “It’s like…it’s like something’s talking. But…but from far away.”

And as he went quiet again, Beau could hear something now, something just on the edge of the silence: a strange, murmuring whisper tickling at the back of her mind.

——————————

“I can hear it!” Jester said, “I can hear it…it…what is it?”

Yasha drew her sword in one, fluid motion. “I do not know,” she said, “but I do not like this. Be ready.”

——————————

Caleb, immersed now in seeking out knowledge, leaned in closer. “It’s…it’s some kind of warding,” he said.

“Caleb, are you listening to me?”

“They are so strange. Almost…almost an amalgam of magics. This symbol here, this indicates offense, so evocation. But this one here is abjuration, like protection, and this one is—”

—————————–

The noise swelled, growing from an almost inaudible sensation to a yelling that flooded Beau’s ears in a language she could never hope to understand.

“What’s happening?! What’s going on?!”

—————————–

“What are they saying?!” Jester cried. “What are they saying?!”

“I don’t know!” Nott shouted, eyes wide with panic. “I don’t know!”

“Block your ears!” Yasha yelled over the deafening noise, “Block your ears!”

—————————–

”—necromancy.”

—————————–

The shouting burst into piercing screams that raked across their ears with searing, burning pain. And before anybody could react, on either team in the south or the east, a black wave of dark, unholy force came careening down their tunnels, rocketing into their bodies with a terrible blast, followed by a harsh wind that swallowed the light from their torches and—for a horrifying moment—stilled the air in their lungs. There were dull thuds as all of them, caught completely unawares, were launched backwards and onto the ground in the darkness.

—————————– 

Silence. Then:

“Nott, Jester, are you both alive?”

“I am alive.”

There was a hacking cough and a moan.

“Nott is alive too, but she does not sound very good.”

“I’m fine,” mumbled Nott. “The stupid wind just threw me against the wall.”

“What was that?” came Yasha’s voice. “It felt…dark.”

“It is very dark right now,” said Jester.

“What? Oh, here.”

Their torch flared as Yasha struck it back to life.

“Do either of you know what happened?” she asked again.

“No,” said Jester. “But it…it hurt. I feel…sort of drained?”

“Me too,” said Nott miserably. “Caleb would know what it was.”

“Perhaps we should head back,” said Yasha.

Nott nodded. “I don’t want to go on without the others anymore.” 

“I want to make sure they are okay,” Jester added.

——————————

“Thanks,” said Fjord, and grimaced as Beau helped pull him up.

“You alright there?”

“Yeah, but—”

He broke off as a cough erupted from his throat. In the near darkness, something other than spit hit his tongue.

“Fuck, are you coughing up blood?” Beau asked.

“Yeah, it-it’s just a bit. Whatever that was did not agree with me. But I’m okay now, I think. How are you doin’ there?”

“I feel terrible, but I can keep on going,” said Beau.

“Good,” he said, “because I think we should head back right now.”

“I think you’re right, Fjord, and I think we should hurry.”

——————————

“That’s odd,” said Molly. “They stopped glowing.”

“Was?”

“The symbols over here, they were glowing before. For a smart man you’re not always that observant.”

Caleb stood up and stretched out his back for a moment. “Sorry,” he said. “I was trying to work out what sort of glyphs these were. Near as I can tell, these here, along the bottom, they are a sort of protection for whatever lies beyond this chamber.

“Why does that make me want to get in even more?” Molly asked cheekily. “Is there any way for us to get through?”

Caleb smiled softly in return. “Luckily, as long as Yasha has not used that feature of her sword yet, we should be able to dispel at least that portion of the sigils. And then it is a matter of putting enough force against this wall to blast through.”

Molly nodded. “That sounds like a plan.”

Caleb shot another glance at the etchings, and rubbed his chin. “The other symbols, however, are…different. They are like, like an attack of some kind, though their exact nature I do not understand. This seems to be a sort of arcane source, that is charged up here and able to be used again. The effects themselves are felt…felt elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere,” said Molly flatly. 

“We need to return to the others,” said Caleb. “Now.”

“I agree,” said Molly. “I hope—”

A soft voice tickled at the back of their minds.

Intruders?

They instantly whipped around, ready for battle and standing back-to-back. In a second, Molly had his scimitars out and radiant. The Dancing Lights vanished as fire ignited around Caleb’s fingers. Frumpkin’s tail bristled.

“Who said that?!” Molly called. “Show yourself! There will be no mercy for cowards!”

“Mollymauk,” Caleb hissed, “we cannot fight this alone. We must be patient, and return to the others.”

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to,” Molly whispered back, “what if—"

I see, came the voice again. Unfortunately, I do not have time for this. I am too close. Deal with them.

Suddenly, the chamber began to shake. Dirt and dust streamed down from the breaks in the cavern above them and on far side of the room, the entire ceiling caved in. An avalanche of brick and rock and mud slammed down over the tunnel entrance to the rest of the sewers. All three of them were showered with a rain of gravel and small pebbles and Frumpkin was hit by a falling rock that then tumbled onto the ground next to a strangled yelp and a wisp of smoke. Caleb and Molly desperately wove around the dropping stones, ducking and weaving until they ended up in the center of the chamber, and the rumbling stopped.

In the dust-filled silence, they stared at their exit, now completely covered by a mountain of brick and rubble.

“Fuck,” said Mollymauk, and swept at the cloud of dust around him. “Fuck, we’re trapped down here, now, fuck.” His breathing was beginning to quicken.

“Mollymauk?”

“Fuck!” He yelled, and with every shallow inhale, more and more dust poured into his lungs. He started coughing and doubled over, dropping his scimitars and clutching at his chest.

“Mollymauk!” Caleb yelled, and bent over as well. “Mollymauk, look at me, it will be alright! We can get out of here, it will be alright! I have a plan! Nod if you understand!”

Molly, still struggling to breathe, gave the briefest nod. It was enough. Caleb tried to rub circles on Molly’s back as he used his other hand to steady the trembling tiefling. “Listen to me, look at me, focus on me! We will be alright! I have not used any spells yet, I can summon my cat’s paw and have it move the blockage! We are not trapped! You can feel the air moving around you, ja?”

Molly gave another quick nod. 

“Look, look, there is no darkness,” and new Dancing Lights appeared around Molly’s head. “You are standing up, there is air all around you—admittedly dusty—but still free air! I am here! You can feel my hand on your back, I am holding your shoulder, you can hear my voice, Mollymauk you are not alone in this! I am here, Mollymauk, I am here!”

And then one of the fingers in the ground twitched.

——————————

“What the absolute fuck is that?” Beau asked.

Fjord, falchion in hand, took a defensive stance next to her. “I have no idea,” he said. “But I don’t like it.”

“Gee, really, you don’t like fun creepy balls light?”

Fjord sighed. “Can we please not do sarcasm right now?”

“Sorry,” said Beau. “Hey, they’re getting closer, that’s cool, right?”

The two of them watched as a row of small, glowing orbs drifted closer from down the passageway they had just run through. Each sphere radiated a pale white light, and ranged from being as small as a grape to as large as an apple. Fjord watched them approach warily, weapon at the ready and anticipating the worst.

And then the lights simply moved over their heads and continued down the tunnel.

“What the fuck,” said Beau again, for good measure.

“They…maybe they aren’t dangerous?” Fjord suggested.

“Yeah, but they’re super fucking weird,” said Beau. “And I don’t like not knowing what they are.”

A couple more spheres rounded the corner and moved towards them. Before Fjord could stop her, Beau raised her bo staff and poked the largest one with the end. It seemed to give a slight resistance for a moment, but then passed through the staff and continued floating in its parade away from them.

“What did it feel like?” Fjord asked, curiosity overwhelming his exasperation.

“I dunno,” said Beau speculatively. “I definitely felt it for a second, but it was barely there. Like hitting the mist if mist was just a bit sturdier.”

“Let’s hurry,” said Fjord. “We can see if the others experienced any of this or if they know anything.”

——————————

“Jester, please stop,” said Nott, “you’re making me nervous.”

“But they are so cute,” said Jester, “and they don’t hurt. They feel a little bit warm.”

“I agree with Nott, here,” said Yasha. “Stop poking the weird lights and let’s go.”

Jester reluctantly obliged, but continued to wave goodbye as they walked past the slow procession of orbs.

“What do you think they are?” Nott asked.

“I am not so sure,” said Yasha. “But I have a thought.”

“Don’t waste it,” said Nott, “what are they?”

“I think…I think they might be souls.”

“What!?” Jester frantically wiped her hands on her dress. “You think I was poking souls?”

“Yes,” said Yasha. “So I am glad you stopped.”

“But why are they just floating around?” Nott asked. “Why aren’t they…y’know…inside bodies or something?”

“I do not know,” said Yasha. “But they appeared after that wave of energy. We survived, but perhaps the owners of those souls did not.”

There was silence for a moment. Nott reached for her flask.

“We need to move faster,” said Yasha. “And drink a healing potion if you are feeling low. There could be another wave coming.”

——————————

Caleb picked up a scimitar and fought to control his own rapid heartbeat as he tried to help Molly through the panic. All around them now, from around the six visible fingers, movement began churning under the earth. Dirt flew into the air, and then a fingertip became a knuckle bone and then another finger and then the beginnings of a hand, slowly threading upwards and out of the ground. Without even realizing, Caleb and Molly had stumbled into the middle of six trembling graves.

“Please, Mollymauk,” Caleb begged, “Please, I cannot defend us by myself. Please, I need you.”

“O-okay,” breathed Molly, voice ragged, “okay, pass me a sword, pass me a sword, Caleb.”

The tiefling’s hand closed around the hilt of his blade, cheap carnival glass made hard by years at his side, fed the blood of his foes and countless times his own. He reached for the other scimitar and drew it across his arm, letting radiant light spill forth again.

A fist burst out of the ground, coated in dirt. Rotting flesh hung off the bone like loose clothing. On the other side of the ring, another hand crawled towards the sky.

The Dancing Lights went out. Caleb’s hands caught fire. Molly steadied himself.

When the first head exploded upwards, dead eye sockets and missing teeth just visible through the visor of a rusted metal helmet, Molly leapt forwards and took a swipe. The head flew across the room but the body followed, dripping dirt like earthen blood, dressed in chainmail and armed with a sword of its own. Five other bodies erupted out of the ground and lurched towards them in a ring, and Caleb pressed his back against Molly’s and pushed his hands together and sent out a fifteen-foot cone of blazing fire that set the undead warriors aflame. But they continued moving forwards, closing in.

Molly managed to weave around the swing of the headless zombie in front of him, and used the momentum to duck out of the circle and give Caleb more room to back up. The other creatures advanced closer to the wizard, who scrambled backwards to stay out of melee range as they swiped effortlessly at his retreat. Molly swung again at the headless creature, but his scimitar caught against the chain armor. But then his other hand followed with a second strike, which managed to sever the zombie’s in half at the waist. Its legs collapsed, and its torso stopped moving.

Caleb, meanwhile, had sent out another wave of fire that managed to incinerate the undead directly in front of him, but left three still closing in, weapons drawn and moaning. In the dim light from Molly’s swords and Caleb’s fires, the metal gleamed with a sickly sheen.

Molly kicked away the remnants of the first zombie, and with a reassuring glance, twirled Caleb behind him so the wizard could get out of melee. Caleb gratefully scrambled back and pulled a diamond out of his pouch, spinning it between his bandaged fingers. As Molly cut into the shambling corpses, streaks of lightning arched around him, briefly illuminating the darkened chamber before striking against rotting flesh.

Soon, the last zombie was cut down. Molly lowered his swords and caught his breath. Behind him, Caleb sighed and put his diamond away.

Molly turned to face the wizard. “Are you injured?” he asked.

“I am fine,” Caleb said. “How are you?”

“Physically, fabulous. Mentally, I’ll be much better once we get out of here. What was your plan, again?”

“Right,” he nodded. “I’m going to cast Maximilian’s—”

There was a wet, sickening sound as the tip of a spear sprouted out from the middle of Caleb’s chest. He and Molly stared at it for long, terrible second, eyes wide with shock. Then Caleb crumpled to the ground, revealing a seventh undead body standing right behind him, that had emerged unnoticed after the others.

Molly’s mind went blank. Somewhere, his grip tightened around the scimitars. Somewhere, his throat let out a mangled scream. Somewhere, his muscles launched themselves at the creature and somewhere, both wrists extended as he slashed and carved at the horrible, ungodly, vile, unsightly aberration that had just struck down his wizard.

As soon as its lacerated form fell, Molly dropped his swords and collapsed onto his knees by Caleb’s body. Dust and dirt swirled around them, remnants from the rock collapse and the bursts of undead and the frenzied storm that had been Mollymauk, moments ago.

“Caleb,” he whispered, “Caleb, are you alive?”

The divine light had gone out, now, and there was no more fire. Even with Darkvision, Molly could barely see the body stir slightly.

“I am-I am alive,” Caleb whispered back. “There is something in my chest.”

Molly almost started laughing. Instead, his hands shook as they pulled a healing potion from his pouch, and then another, and another, and another. “I’m going to move your head,” he said, “It might hurt, it might hurt, but I’m going to heal you.”

“Okay,” Caleb said weakly. “That would be nice.”

Molly trembled as he slowly pulled Caleb into his lap, lying him on his side so the spear couldn’t continue to press into him. Caleb winced with every movement, but did not fight. Molly nudged a potion against the wizard’s mouth.

The glimmering red liquid slipped between Caleb’s lips.

Then he started coughing, violently. Each spasm sent a wave of pain coursing through his body but for some reason, he could barely feel it.

“Did-did it work?” Molly asked. “Caleb, how do you feel?” 

“Shitty,” muttered Caleb. “Numb.”

Molly pushed another one forwards. “I-I, try again, try this one.”

The glass bottle drained, and Caleb had another bout of coughing. The sound got weaker as it went on, and Molly’s gut told him that was not a good sign.

“I do not think it worked,” Caleb whispered.

“Fuck, what, why not? Why aren’t you—”

In his frustration and desperation, inspiration hit. He fumbled in his coat for a match, then found one and struck it. He held the tiny flame up to the tip of the spear and swore loudly.

Mixed against the gleaming red blood was a strange, black residue.

“You’re poisoned,” said Molly, and panic began to rise in his voice. “Fuck, Caleb, you’re poisoned.”

“Ah,” Caleb mumbled, “that would do it.”

“Fuck, fuck, Caleb, I can’t heal poison. How bad is it? Will you be alright? Fuck me, I can’t-I can’t lose you. Caleb, help me, what do I do?”

Molly pressed his forehead against Caleb’s temple. His ginger hair was plastered to his skin by a cold sweat.

“Where are the others?” Caleb whispered.

“I don’t know,” said Molly, “I don’t know. Just…just hang in there, alright? I’m sure-I’m sure they’ve noticed how long we’ve been gone. They’ll come find us, and then Jester can heal this, okay? I just…you just have to hang in there.”

“When they do, tell Nott—”

He was interrupted by another round of coughing. Spit and blood and something else, something dark and foreign, pooled in his mouth. He spit it out weakly.

“Shhhh,” said Molly, “don’t speak, don’t speak. Just be still. They—they’re coming, I know they are.”

“Tell her I am sorry,” Caleb whispered.

“No,” said Molly firmly, “you’ll tell her that. Hang on, just please hang on, ok?”

The blood from the wound was leaking out faster now. Molly could feel a wet stain forming along his cloak, a bloody echo of the ones streaking down his face, and he could not care less. There were a few seconds of silence.

“Mollymauk? Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes, of course, dear, of course. I’m still here, I’ll always be here.”

Caleb murmured something quietly, almost unable to speak any louder. The dust swirled around them in a dark cloud, though Molly’s eyes stayed closed and pleading against the side of Caleb’s head.

“Mollymauk?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you really want to tell me the secret?”

“What?”

“Your big secret. Do you really want to tell it to me?”

“Yes, yes, more than anything.”

“You are certain.”

Molly smiled, but it was strained. “Of course I am.”

“Then please…please tell me.”

“I can��t, Caleb, not now, please, just…just don’t speak anymore, alright? You need to keep still—”

“Say it…say it in Infernal. I like the sound of Infernal.”

Molly remembered his silly promise from earlier, made as a joke to a man who could not even understand him.

Well, you just have to ask for it, and I’ll tell you everything you want to hear, he had said, and winked.

Molly took a deep breath and leaned back to look at Caleb’s face. His eyes were closed and his expression was strangely peaceful, and Molly thought back to that time Caleb had come to visit him on the night they had gotten drunk, in that moment they had been alone in his bedroom. He could taste salt, and he tried to wipe the tears away.

“Before, I had nothing,” he breathed softly, “except for dirt and emptiness. Not even a coffin. Then I met the circus, and I had joy and stories and music and adventures. I had a purpose, to guide people and bring them a bit of light. And then, one day, I found a light of my own. It was hiding, believe it or not, in a dirty, scruffy man in a coat that needs a good wash. But first impressions can be deceiving. This man was also powerful, brave, intelligent, beautiful, and understanding. He accepted me for me, Mollymauk Tealeaf, who had no past and no memories and nothing but some silly cards and a showy coat. He was and still is kind. And trusting. And loving. And of course, very fun to tease.”

Molly brushed a ginger lock of hair away from the wizard’s face.

“He…he is my light. He is my love. His…his name is Caleb Widogast. His name is Caleb Widogast and I wish he could understand me. I wish he could love me too.”

A slow, dopey grin broke across Caleb’s face, so utterly vibrant and happy that Molly thought he was seeing things. Caleb reached up for Molly’s hand, and held it against his cheek.

“I am glad,” he said softly, “because I too have found my light. Because I do understand you. And I do love you too, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

And as his grip slackened and his hand dropped, as Caleb slowly closed his eyes and let his head lay still, as his chest stopped rising and his pulse flickered out and his heart stopped beating and as all of that happened, Mollymauk realized that Caleb had spoken in Zemnian, that he had understood him, and now soot and salt, not dust, twirled slowly around them—the remnants of Caleb’s last spell, Comprehend Languages.

And now, Molly truly was alone.

[ecotone99]

[SF] The Sun in your Eyes

[SF] The Sun in your Eyes

Growing up on ground level had many perks, though sleeping wasn't one of them. Every breath of space beyond his curtains were full of loud things moving dangerously fast; and every moment outside his walls, a constant blur between night and day. He was told sunlight was bad for him, so he imagined it through a bedside device glowing ultraviolet in measured doses. Tossing and turning, the 10-year-old threw his pillow across the room and began texting.

A few thin walls away, Dr. Sharon Hearth sat at her desktop computer, reading up on the latest internet headlines. A physician with a passion for preventive medicine, she shared the common belief that the ozone layer was severely compromised despite 21st century reparations. She spent hours of her day squinting at computer monitors with eyes that appeared kind, but also very tired. Her husband was resting in bed just a few feet away.

A sudden noise prompted her to check a separate screen. It revealed a single emoji from her son, Sid. In response, she entered a series of numbers and an elaborate password.

Several rooms away, his consciousnesses came to an abrupt halt, a peaceful, paralyzing sleep.

Dr. Hearth swiped through several pages of data, relieved to see her child’s vitals were within range. She knew tomorrow was a big day for her only son, and like many physicians, she was an overprotective parent.

So she continued to adjust a network of grain-sized implants that monitored Sid’s eyes, brain, heart, and major arteries. Each biosensor soaked up a wealth of information, nestled deep in tissue layers, and intervening seldomly. Dr. Hearth fiddled with their settings tirelessly, deciding to sleep at 3 AM, and only out of necessity. She, like Sid, had them installed throughout her body, free of charge, being the lead designer of BioSand Solutions, Inc. She planted her head firmly into the pillow, stared at the ceiling for some time, selected six hours, then entered the same elaborate password into her smartphone…

Some time later, years later in fact, Sid woke up and got dressed. He slouched into the living room with a wrinkled dress shirt, black pants, and a backpack he rarely removed.

His father sat excitedly beside a vaguely familiar women. As he tried to recognize her, something within him stimulated an aversive sensation. The feeling compelled him to look away, then focus on something different. Sid suspected the cause, and though he had the option to adjust his biosensors, now, as a legal adult, it was not a top priority. Sid was still a teenager and responsibility did not appeal to him.

“Happy Birthday, young man!” his father exclaimed. “I hope you don’t mind Stella coming over. How are you feeling?”

“Not bad. I slept well, eventually,” Sid was pressing a hand against his eyes.

“Good! Speaking of which, I got ya something small,” his father said. Sid opened his hands to some sort of case, a small curved box. It was jet black and had a familiar felt texture. He suspected what they were, but decided to keep the container closed. “I want you to wear them today. It will be a popular conversation starter. A symbol of the new Sid, a symbol of your vision quest,” his father joked.

“Where did you find these?” Sid asked, rarely understanding him these days.

“Oh, I have my sources,” his father said, clearly winking. “They were Mom’s.” Sid opened his eyes halfway, hugged his father, and sleepily exited the apartment.

His mother, Dr. Sharon Hearth, had passed away just eight years ago.

Sid walked long through a mosaiced cityscape, a hot mess of eroded cement and steel.

In the middle was a tower that extended endlessly, piercing a dark, dirt-colored sky. The city resembled a coastless Dubai, though in this American version, its towering Burj displayed outworn neon lettering, glowing eerily from miles away. Valley of the Sun Hospital, the tower read hazily from top to bottom, and Sid appreciated it. For the first time in years, he walked the sidewalk since the sun was still below the mountains.

Walking inside the tower, Sid admired a lobby decorated in the strangest and most beautiful way. Each windowless wall was lined by an interconnecting aquarium, sheltering a community of rare aquatic creatures, and filling the cafeteria with a therapeutic blue light.

Sid found Celeste sitting at a high table, across from one of the swimming animals. It was covered in some type of cartilage, and had to be at least a hundred pounds.

Sid sat with Celeste for about ten minutes, amused by the shelled thing behind thick glass, and exchanging glances with her healthcare aid. His uniform revealed the unusual name Lark Bohem, and since Sid’s arrival, he had been observing their every move. Lark appeared new and had an adolescent build similar to his own, but much older. Sharing a prolonged silence, Sid, Celeste, and Mr. Bohem reflected on why they were there.

Celeste had been in and out of the hospital for some time. Her story of addiction was unexpected, but not unusual. Like many, it started as a passionate curiosity, darkening over time, and causing physical changes. Her skin had a scabby, slightly charred look, and a thick bandage stretched across her face. She was recovering from her first serious intervention: a fresh, bilateral, whole-eye transplant. Sid noticed reddish stains occupying the space of her new eyes and wanted to ask her about it. However, his biosensors identified stressful cardiovascular trends, compelling him to look away, towards an even uneasier Mr. Bohem.

Unsurprisingly, it was he, the most nervous one, who broke the silence. “I’ve been told that thing over there is called a turtle. Some of them don’t age, you know. I believe it’s called negligible senescence or something. That’s actually why they’re here. For research, hope, amusement, who knows. Who really knows anything anymore?” Lark turned his back to them as he spoke, getting more uneasy until he finally stood up. His face in profile looked like a scared animal, waiting in awe for something inevitable. Like him, his voice was thin and harsh.

Celeste reached her hand towards the man’s empty chair, feeling a thin jacket draped over the seat. It looked professional and sported the hospital logo, a single flowering cactus. Celeste grabbed it and crumpled it into her lap. She too wanted to speak now that Mr. Bohem was occupied. “I agree. Life is weird,” she mumbled, throwing the coat toward Sid. He was on on the verge of saying something, but Celeste continued without a pause. “You know, the way we define it. Just think of the Sun. It gives all the light and warmth we need, the source of all life, yet somehow the it isn’t considered alive. Glowing from like millions of miles away, asking for nothing in return, it has less life than a turtle.” She whispered clearly and directly toward Sid.

“We’re going upstairs.”

Lark remained oblivious, texting on his phone and leaning against thick aquarium walls, so Sid stuffed the jacket into his bag. He then walked directly toward Lark, pretending to watch the callused “turtle” up close. For the first time, he noticed a deep, bulging scar that ran across its belly. “You notice that?” Sid asked. Through the glass reflection, he could see Lark’s expression was emotionally silent. The man was more observant than Sid expected, but he didn’t attempt to retake the jacket. Instead, he handed over a long metal key.

“You got anything to put over her eyes?” Lark asked.

“Yeah, I think I do.” Sid replied, searching for the new gift.”

“Today is not a bad day to get out of here. It’s about to get real interesting,”

Sid wanted to understand, but something forced his caution aside. He threw the jacket on and tossed the keyed lanyard around his neck. He wasn’t sure what to say to Celeste, so he just grabbed her hand and forced it on him. She recognized the jacket’s soft, synthetic material and smiled. Sid removed the felt container from his bag, carefully handling the shaded eyeglasses and dropping them on Celeste’s face.

Celeste violently shook her head. “We need to go upstairs,” she again whispered clearly and directly, but with slightly more intensity. Taking the hint, Sid took the shades back and wore them himself, adopting the disguise of a new hospital employee, one with funny 20th century delusions of style. After all, he was the son of a famous physician and didn’t want to be recognized. Celeste shifted her body onto the wheelchair and pointed to the nearest elevator. Pushing her inside the empty platform, a faint, distant commotion could be heard, but the automatic doors were already closing.

For twenty minutes, they stood and sat in silence as the elevator ascended. Sid wondered if Celeste should know about his interaction with Mr. Bohem. He thought maybe it was best not to tell Celeste. Perhaps, Sid contemplated, today was fated to follow the same course of this elevator. He daydreamed for what felt like an hour, anxiety building with each floor, until a jarring alarm returned him to reality.

Just as Sid started to panic, the elevator doors inched apart, revealing a vast geriatric floor. Windowless walls lined the perimeter, compartmentalized with clear, thick glass to form hundreds, perhaps thousands of patient rooms. At centerstage, Sid saw a single nurse sitting on a swivel chair surrounded by computer monitors. She was working quietly, alone, and hiding just within sight. Sid pushed Celeste slowly onto the floor, doubtful his disguise would help much.

“Hello there, and who are you?” The nurse asked.

“Hello there!” Sid responded. “The elevator stalled. I was transporting my patient back to her room, but now I’m stuck here. It’s been a crazy day!” Sid attempted to play his role confidently, but the nurse appeared uninterested for at least 30 seconds.

“I guess we’re having some issues with the solar generator. I’ll make a phone call as soon as I finish up. Feel free to join Miguel for now.”

She pointed to an enclosed area with several couches and a mysterious seated figure wearing a silver bodysuit. The mesh fabric followed his every move like an iron, form-fitting shield, running down his torso, arms, and legs. Adding significant bulk to his frame, it extended up his neck into a dense, round helmet. Only his placid eyes and sickly pale nose appeared unassisted. Looking up from a plate of gelatinous eggs, Miguel was the first person to question Sid’s appearance.

“Do you know why people wear sunglasses?” He asked.

Sid had never heard the word “sunglasses” before, and genuinely had no idea they had any sort of function. He assumed them to be one of those weird accessories, or in his case, a way to obscure your identity. “Because they look cool,” he said, feeling stupid.

“Exactly young man! They make you appear less vulnerable. The eyes are the window to the soul, but the soul is fragile, emotional. Some dare to say it doesn’t exist at all. So you cover them up, and in doing so, you become invulnerable.”

Sid and Celeste nodded in agreement. The older man had an animated, almost intimidating way about him. He stood up very tall and began pacing in circles. Celeste sat in her wheelchair silently, but appeared to be listening.

“Now consider this for a moment. Vulnerability binds people together, gives them meaning, a feeling of comfort and trust. So what would happen if everyone wore sunglasses? What if blue eyes, green eyes, scared eyes, and loving eyes, were no longer a thing?” After a long pause, Sid murmured unconfidently.

“We wouldn’t trust each other?”

“Yes, perhaps, young man. For a time, it would be strange. Then, after the initial shock, we would focus on some other vulnerability, some other window to the soul, like their lips, their breathing, the way they stand, the way they move their arms, the way they choose their words, or the way they don’t. One might say there is only one way to eliminate vulnerability.”

“To not perceive at all,” Celeste said, coming alive for the first time in a while.

“That is exactly right young lady, and wouldn't that leave us quite vulnerable?” Celeste nodded. “As long as we observe, we will always perceive vulnerability, and as long as we perceive vulnerability, we will always try to fix it, and as long as we succeed, we will always find more.”

There was a long moment of silence as Sid, Celeste, and Miguel waited for the next person to talk. Somewhere, waiting in that moment, Sid realized who Miguel was. He was the one and only, Miguel Díaz de Vivar. He was among the first million people that agreed to biomonitoring. After countless decades of impeccable, ascetic discipline, a team of physicians declared him the healthiest centenarian on the planet. As a reward, he was gifted the most sophisticated medical device of the 21st century. Sid felt star-struck and confused, chiming in desperately and messily.

“True! It’s like that expression, umm you know. If you tell someone to not think of some animal, then you will only think of that animal. You know? Like, if you try not to think of something, it never works. Shoot, which animal is it?” Sid instantly regretted attempting to talk, but Miguel did not seem to care.

“Hmmm, interesting comparison. I think I got you young man.”

Miguel raised both eyebrows, then squeezed them tightly, trying to remember. His eyelids closed, and the helmet attached to his skull started to make a dull humming noise. It was scanning his brain for for a recognizable pattern of brain activity. After ten seconds, a match was located from a database of previously stored word-search attempts, and the world “elephant” was produced in a dull synthetic voice emanating from Miguel’s forehead. It wasn’t the answer Sid expected, nor did he have any clue what an elephant was, so he quickly changed the subject.

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?”

“Wise question, young man. I guess you could say I’ve spent my whole life preserving life to the fullest, yet in old age I have never felt more vulnerable, and it is this paradoxical vulnerability that protects me, and gives me more strength than I’ve ever known. You see?” Miguel flexed his exoskeletal biceps. He then pulled a chair next to Celeste, looking at her with blue eyes, now more earnest than ever. “Why are you here, young lady?” he asked. It was a fairly obvious diagnosis, but she answered just as sincerely.

“I went outside the city, during the day,” she said. “I always wanted to see the desert, the mountains, the canyons, even the sand was beautiful. When it was noon, I finally looked up, and there it was, so warm, primal, enlightening.” Sid rolled his eyes slightly. She was starting to sound like his mom, hiding behind poetic wordplay and puns. “I knew it was dangerous, but I made the choice deliberately. Since the day I was born, I always wanted feel the Sun.” Celeste smiled and whispered into Miguel’s auditory transducer. The nurse was nowhere to be seen, and Miguel whispered back into her ear. Sid wondered what they could possibly be talking about.

Miguel stood up again, lifting Celeste’s wheelchair well above his shoulders. “May I... borrow your sunglasses?” Miguel asked. Sid handed them to him with some hesitation. “Follow me, young man.” The old man sprinted into a dark stairwell, leaping up a hundred stories without effort, carrying the wheelchair like a rickshaw.

By the time Sid crawled to the top floor, Celeste was resting contently, illuminated by a single beam of light. It originated from a man-sized hole in the ceiling. On the other side, tunneling straight through the roof, Sid could see the source of the blinding light. He looked at it curiously until his biosensors compelled him to look away. Miguel was nowhere to be seen, so Sid swiped his key and pushed Celeste out of the stairwell.

There was a sense of chaos as nurses ran laps back and forth, rushing to the beat of a flashing alarm. Some were driving hospital beds carrying unresponsive patients, while others were holding what appeared to be moist, pink blobs wrapped in hospital sheets. A few steps away there was a single frightened turtle stuck on its back, legs flailing limply. Just as he slid the animal to a safer position, turning it upright, a nurse noticed them and yelled.

“Do you see what’s going on here? We can’t accept admissions!”

Sid “What happened?”

Another random staff member spoke up. “The backup generators have diverted power away from the NPVs. Some of them have been salvaged, but the rest are running on low battery.” The nurse practitioner pointed to a heavy door that read Neuro Preservation Vats.

Celeste jumped out of her wheelchair, looking back to Sid for a moment, and swiftly proceeding to the door. In one graceful motion of her body, she ripped the bandage off her face and peered inside, tiptoeing within just as gracefully. Sid hesitated for a moment then followed, shutting the door behind.

Inside, Celeste was standing in front of a transparent, fish-tank-sized container. Within it was a truly surreal sight, sinking in slowly, inching toward Sid's perception over several seconds. It was unmistakably a human brain floating peacefully, tethered by a tangled mess of catheters. The vat displayed three numbers: oxygen saturation, perfusion rate, and internal pressure. It beeped at a constant, regular rate. A series of labels were attached with nearly illegible text.

Hearth, Sharon. V.I.P.

PATIENT ID: 2342398732434353453887

Zoological implantation declined.

Cryogenic preservation declined.

Viable organs donated. Eyes donated.

Wireless biosensors in situ.

Sid walked past his mother, beyond many rows of empty vats. He leaned against the far wall, sliding his back down against it, squatting on the floor with his elbows to his knees, hands pressed against his eyes. Celeste followed him to the corner and sat beside him, her hand touching his lightly. Her new eyes were adjusting to the light well. They looked very different, but also very familiar, very kind, but also very tired. As their tearful eyes met, he could hear the vat beeping at a much faster rate, numbers spiking upwards. Dr. Sharon Hearth knew today was an important day for her only son, and she, like many physicians, was a loving parent. Sid kissed Celeste on the forehead and walked out of the room.

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