#damn i wish i could live in that scifi world

[buff-electra-truther]

This video gives a lot of context for why I characterize Electra how I do tbh

Ironically in the US electric trains are largely used by systems that are uh… infamously not well funded and actually left way behind. I see them with a much greater element of defensiveness and desperation and more focused on proving their worth against Greaseball than anything else.

[ravencromwell]

On Rage and Complexity interwoven with disability and queerness as filtered through Sarah Gailey's "maybe novel"

I've drifted into posting much of my more personal/metaish content on my dreamwidth In an effort to try and be better about cross-posting, thought I'd put a bit of meta up here first for a change.

We lament, often and at great length, about the kind of tales we'd like to see: with more diverse characters, yes, but also well-rounded diverse characters. As Liz Bourke concisely opined recently :

It’s troubling, sometimes, how much the issue of “good representation”—and the arguments around it—slides towards a pervasive sense that creators must depict people who are good and right and do right. It’s not necessarily an explicit dictate, but there’s an unspoken undercurrent, a sense that to portray ugliness, unlikeability, fury—to portray people who have responded to suffering with cruelty and bitterness and rage—is to be complicit in one’s own vilification. And to be vulnerable. Justify your existence is the sea we swim in, always against the current.

To be unmarked by compromise, to be without sharp edges that sometimes cut even when you don’t want them to—because the world is what it is, and sometimes what it is teaches you that the best defence against being hurt by cruelty is a really quick offense—is to either be very young or hardly human. But when we come to fictional portrayals, well… As you know, Bob, Bob gets to be seen as a difficult genius, where Alice is seen as a bitch or a Mary Sue.

And as insightful as that essay is, I'd argue that a central factor it overlooks, or doesn't articulate as well as I would like, is that the more intersections of marginalization your identity rests upon, the more that unspoken pressure kicks in. I certainly feel and see it, as both a queer and disabled person, and I have friends who feel that weight even more heavily--that internal voice policing their own writing even stronger when they're brown and/or queer and/or coming from decolonized places; even heavier if/when they and their compatriots are still untangling the effects of colonialism and modern neoimperalism. And so it becomes vitally imperative for all of us, using whatever privilege we have to work in concert to expand what characters can be portrayed in mainstream fiction. And oh, aint that an easy proclamation to make; doing the work, though, is far harder.

So y'all can imagine my overwelming delight when the Bourke essay and twitter convo that sparked it--linked to in essay and so very much worth a scan--dropped on the same week as my introduction to Sarah Gailey's maybe book Every bit of what I read of Gailey's makes my love of her work slowly, steadily increase, but to be perfectly honest, this's probably my favorite thing of hers so far. It's the thing that tugs sharpest at my heart, that I see so much of my own experience reflected in, and it's only two fuckin chapters in But even if Gailey never writes another word of this--for which a large chunk of me will mourn--, it'll still be one of the most special things I've encountered for being, in western lit terms, a masterclass in putting the characters we wanna see in the world. (I insert that caveat because I know well that folks like Viet Thanh Nguyen are doing astonishing, under-appreciated work in nonwestern litfic. But the genres I'm most familiar with, western scifi and fantasy, have a long way to go to catch up.)

There are, so far, four--maybe five? I can't quite tell--characters in this novel. Three of 'em have serious, life-changing disabilities, and one of them is delightfully, tragically queer. And they're all allowed to be wonderfully vicious and complicated. Just look at something like:

Cory Jefferson is a hunched-over curled-up boy with bones too long for his body and a jaw you could use to shovel the ashes out of a fireplace. His chest has the caved-in look that comes with growing tall before you can grow wide, and his hair is long enough to want cutting but not long enough to look like it’s long on purpose. His hoodie sleeves have holes in them, and the bottoms of his jeans are frayed from walking, and all his fingers are missing, cut off at the bottom knuckle a year ago on a night he can’t remember no matter how many Thursdays he spends looking back and forth between Piper and Ethan.

"I think we should go back," Piper says. She’s chewing on her thumb, and Cory is staring at her thumb while she chews on it, probably because that used to be his nervous tic. Piper used to nag him about it.

Piper Durham has a spine as straight as a plumb-line dropped down a well. Her dark hair falls past her shoulders, less straight than it used to be, and with a few strands of white that weren’t there before. She’s thin enough to look hollow, and pale enough to look scared. She wears large black sunglasses with scratched-up lenses. She wears them because they cover up the holes where her eyes used to be, back before the night a year ago that she can’t remember no matter how many Thursdays she spends chewing on her thumb.

"That’s a bad idea,” Cory snaps. “That’s the worst bad idea I’ve ever heard, and every time you bring it up you sound stupider."

"I don’t hear either of you coming up with something smarter,"Piper snaps back, and then she immediately closes her mouth. She’s biting her tongue, literally biting it, you can see her doing it, and then she flinches again and stops doing that, because biting her tongue is even worse than what she said.

Ethan’s hands rise from his lap. After a silent moment, Cory translates for him, so Piper can hear. "Ethan says it’s okay. He says not to worry about it. He says he’s used to people saying stuff like that."

"Sorry," Piper whispers.

Across from her, in his own folding chair, Ethan signs it’s okay again. Cory doesn’t translate this time, and the decision not to translate is a hateful one. He watches with narrowed eyes as Piper, who can’t see Ethan’s hands and will never see them again, returns to chewing on her thumb.

Ethan rests his square-fingered hands on his crossed legs and sits back in his chair, his every movement controlled. Some would call him poised. Some would call him that. He wears dark jeans, like always, and a button-down shirt, like always. His fingernails are short and clean, and his sandy-blonde hair is short and clean, and his shoes are polished and his clothes are pressed. He wears a clear plastic face mask to help heal the skin grafts on his face — his face, which was cut away from his skull in one tidy sheet. He does not speak because he has not had a tongue for a year, not since the night he lost his face, which is a night he can not remember no matter how many Thursdays he spends watching Cory and Piper hate each other.

These are people not made saintly by their experiences, who fuck up and apologize, and honestly still fuck up. But who're trying, in their deeply jaded fashion, to show solidarity after this horrific experience they've all been through. They have so many rough edges between them that it'd be impossible to navigate a room between them without cutting yourself to ribbons. Three disabled characters, never put on pedestals, allowed to be as complex as any able-bodied person. It's something still so astonishingly rare that it brought me to weeping this afternoon and meant more than I can say.

And to have these three disabled characters get language this evocative and gorgeous--to have Ethan dress so sharply! when to so many people disability translates to a disconnect from cultural touchstones like fashion. As someone who loves and wants to adopt men's fashion, that, too, meant so much. Every word of this is just so lush! I can't decide whether it's the description of Piper's spine or Cory's caved-in look that comes from growing tall before you can grow wide I love most as a descriptive passage, but to see disabled characters get this kind of attention is breathtaking.

And then there's this description of queerness, from our resident ghost:

The girls fascinated me in death the same way they had in life. For all my sixteen years alive, I was hypnotized by the way a girl can move through a room fast and subtle, like a secret moving through a church during service. The way girls laughed, the way they wrapped their hands around things they wanted to own, they way their eyes got sharp when they were angry. The way they smelled. Boys always seemed the same to me, all of them echoes of each other, all of them saying the same three sentences over and over again, all of them looking at each other with the same eyes. I could never tell the difference between them, not really. But girls. Girls.

It mattered to me while I was alive, but it didn’t make a difference in the way I lived my life, which was a regret I chewed on when I’d worn my other regrets into pulp. The town was small, and everyone knew everyone, and by the time I knew I wasn’t the only girl who watched girls the way I did, I’d been dead for too long to do anything about it. If I knew then what I know now, maybe I would have said something to Molly Two-tone, whose real name was Molly Tutonne and who had straight black hair that fell between her shoulderblades as black as roofing tar, who had bright green eyes and a laugh that you could hear from a block away. Molly Two-tone, who came to my house after I died and stood in the kitchen and whispered that if I was there and if I could hear her, she wanted me to know that she wished she’d kissed me when she had the chance.

There wasn’t a thing I could do to let her know I’d heard her. All I could do was watch her cry, and then watch her leave, closing the door quiet as she could when she went. She didn’t ever come back again.

God, that description guts me every damn time. There're so many of us for whom that metaphor applies: death can be substituted for disapproval or fear or a million other things that separate us from our queerness. I don't know if there's any way for our ghost to have a happy ending, or even something close to catharsis, but Gailey confronts the mess and complication of queerness in ways I've rarely seen.

And getting back to the original point of marginalized characters not being allowed to be cruel, look at this fucking gem on Piper:

Maybe I knew, when Piper walked in with Cory and Ethan. Maybe I knew she was Piper’s granddaughter. Or maybe I saw Piper and thought, for a breath-held instant, that Molly had come back to see me again. I lost track of time more and more often as the years went on, forgetting sometimes how far I was from my life. Forgetting that it had happened one hundred years before, and not just that instant.

When Piper eased the front door open and stepped inside, waving her hand in front of her face to ward off cobwebs, she looked just like Molly — that long black hair and those jewel-bright eyes, and a mouth with a smile hidden at the corners of it. But once the moment of hope melted away, I could see the differences between Piper and her grandmother, and there were plenty of them. And then two boys walked in behind her, and they shut the door.

Piper turned to face them, and she let that hidden smile loose, and it was a different kind of smile than I’d ever seen on Molly’s face — bright and sharp and cruel, ready to have that cruelty dialed up as far as it needed to go. When I saw that smile on Piper’s face, I knew.

I knew that she was nothing like Molly at all.

This's a character who is gonna shortly be disabled, and she's allowed all her sharp edges and I will never fucking be over it. This's a novel of sharp edges, not pulling a punch in deference to its subject matter, not doing a thing to make its readers comfortable or reassured. It's all the ferocity horror should be, with probably my favorite insight being:

When there is a house that no one will ever live in again, people bring their secrets to it. They hide things there — treasures and secrets and sins and violence and love. They turn it into a place to be cruel to each other, because they’re afraid, and fear slaps a dial onto cruelty and turns it up as high as it can go. They turn it into a place to want each other, because fear puts a dial onto want, too. They turn it into what it is, and without them, a house is just a house, no matter what happened there. It’s just empty.

a two-chapter masterclass in writing representation we wanna see.

I was a disabled child told to be kind, not to make folk nervous or bristle at their pity. To know my limitations and stay quiet, not rock the boat and I wouldn't be hurt or scorned more than was expected for my disability. They're lessons I'm spending much of my twenties unknotting, and this vicious, many-toothed novel has wrapped itself round my heart even in its infancy.

[business-as-usual-bats]

Tim's First Christmas as Robin

Tim walked through the hallways of his school with a smile because he officially had the best life ever.

Why? Because Tim Drake was Robin. He helped people. He saved lives. He worked with literal superheroes. It was hard work, exhausting in every way, it took up all his time, and he still had a lot to learn, but at the end of the day he made a difference in the world.

Batman had begun to warm up to him, too, trusting him more with patrolling certain areas alone and handling common thieves and muggers. Batman even complimented him yesterday!! After Tim solved a mystery about Penguin's disappearing shipments in Gotham Harbor, Bruce said, "Good job" and kinda gave a smile!! According to Dick, that's, like, practically the equivalent of a hug!

And since Dick is coming back to Wayne Manor for the holidays, Batman said Tim doesn't have to go patrolling on Christmas, so he can be with his family.

Tim's parents! That's the best part! His parents were finally coming home after being gone half the year. They were supposed to be home months ago... for the first day of the school year... Halloween... Thanksgiving... but they kept getting held up at their jobs. But this time they promised they'd be there on Christmas Eve! Tim went ahead and put up Christmas lights and a tree in preparation. He had it all planned out. He even got ingredients to make gingerbread cookies. Never before had Tim felt so... festive. A few times he caught himself humming along to the overplayed Christmas jingles on the radio.

So, now was the last day of school before winter break. His last class was Algebra and he took his usual seat by the windows. Everyone was goofing off, the teacher didn't even bother to try to actually teach anything by this point. The class comedian of his peers was talking to everyone,

"Nah, I'm just sayin' it's true! Whenever you're watching a movie and sex scene comes up then -BAM- your parents are right there outta nowhere."

Everyone is laughing, including Tim. God, that'd be embarrassing. Does this really happen that often to other people?

"Yeah, your mom be ignoring you all damn day and then she's suddenly all about your life when people start making out. Like how does she know? It's gotta be like the same magic Santa uses to sense who's naughty or who's nice."

"Shit, man. My dad could be gone for 8 years but as soon as that scene comes up he's right there behind me sayin, 'Hey, son. Watcha watchin'?'"

The jokes are silly and dumb and it makes time pass by quickly. Thr bell signaling the end of the day rings and Tim sets off for Wayne Manor.

Patrol goes well, too. It was all business as normal until the Dynamic Duo got back to the cave and who should be there but

"Dick!" Tim yelled, getting swept up in a classic Grayson hug. "Put me down!"

"Merry Christmas, Tiny Tim!"

"It's not Christmas yet."

"It's Christmas every day if you carry love in your heart." Dick grinned and plopped him on the floor. "I got you the coolest and totally-not-a-robin-motorcycle gift ever!"

"A what?" Tim squeaked. "Motorcycle?? But I don't have anything nearly as cool to give you-"

"Now, now, I specifically said it wasn't a motorcycle. But if it were, then I'd tell you it's fine and not to worry about it! It's Christmas!"

"Dick-"

"I'm gonna hug you again-"

"Don't you dare!"

"Pfft. Fine. But hey, I heard your parents are coming home?"

"YEAH!" And Tim didn't mean to shout but the words starting pouring, "They're gonna be home in time for Christmas and I put up the stockings I made, and I have a list of all of dad's favorite Christmas songs, and I'm gonna make gingerbread cookies cuz I found this awesome recipe online, and I got them the perfect gifts because you see last year my mom was complaining on how she didn't have any earrings that matched my dad's favorite tie that he wears all the time which I think was her way of telling him to get rid of the tie but instead I got him a new tie that's the same color and got matching earrings and-"

"Woah! But you'll still stop by the Manor to say hi, right?"

"Duh! I'm not about to miss out on Alfred's homemade Christmas cookies you guys brag about all the time."

"Good! How was patrol?" And they chatted away until Tim decided it was late and he should go home.

The days dragged on until finally finally it was the morning of December 24th. His parents would be home any second! He waited, looking out the window now and again, watching the clock tick by...

And he waited

And waited

They were late.

He called his mom twice, and she answered the second time.

"Yes? Tim, honey?"

"Mom? Um... are you guys almost here or...?"

"What? Oh no, I thought we told you. We aren't going to make it in time for Christmas. You see-" and she explained how an artifact they'd found was accused of being a fake and how much of a legal mess they were in... and... more excuses... "I'm sorry, honey. You know if we could we'd much rather spend Christmas with you. We sent your present in the mail."

"I... I know, Mom." Tim sighed, "I'm not mad. I understand."

"You're such a kind boy, Timothy. We love you so much. We never stop thinking of you."

"I love you, too." And she hung up.

Tim stared ahead blankly, the phone still in his hand. He wasn't sure how long he just stood there, but suddenly his phone rang again

"Hello?" Tim answered. His voice sounded distant to him, like he wasn't even the one talking.

"Tim!" It was Dick, "Hey, so I know we should probably know this but, um, are you allergic to any nuts or spices? Like, even just a small allergy to something?"

"No."

"Sweet! Thanks! Hey... are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"You seem... off."

"I'm fine. I'm just... distracted with my family. They... aren't as excited as I am to be home."

"Oh, that sucks. But they made it home, right? They're there with you now?"

"Yeah, no. They made it here okay." Tim didn't know why he was lying... Was he ashamed? And at who? His parents? Himself? "I should go."

"Well, alright. See you later!"

"Yeah." Tim sighed and threw the phone away from him in disgust.

His eyes stung, he quickly wiped away the beginnings of tears. This was stupid to cry about. Not worth it. Why cry? Just because his parents broke another promise? Because they say they love him but they keep leaving? Why don't they stay? Did he do something wrong? Is he that horrible that they don't want to be around him? Why isn't he good enough for them? Why don't they like him? What can he do better?

Tim started crying and immediately hated himself for it, but he couldn't stop. It all seemed so unfair. It hurt. And the hurt made him want to be comforted, and he wanted his mom here to comfort him. But she's not. She can't be. And somehow, Tim knew it was his fault.

He looked at the Christmas tree blurred through his tears and thought briefly about pushing it down. But that wouldn't fix anything, would it? No. It wouldn't bring his parents home. There was nothing to do about it.

He curled up on the couch facing the Christmas tree and let the tears fall until he could sleep.

The next day was Christmas. Yay.

Tim didn't feel like celebrating. Or moving in general. He managed to slink over to the living room and turn on the TV. Maybe he could watch something to distract him from Christmas.

Or every channel could be focused on the importance of family during Christmas time. Literally. Every. Channel. Christmas and love. Christmas and love. Fuck Christmas. It's was just a stupid commercialized waste of time! Why's he even doing this Christmas shit? He's pretty sure his mom is Jewish anyway! Ugh!

But then he clicked the channel and woah- that's more skin showing than he expected. Suddenly, he remembered:

"Whenever you're watching a movie and a sex scene comes up then -BAM- your parents are right there!"

What if...

He changed to one of the more "mature" channels debuting their Christmas specials. It was sappy romance stuff, which isn't the worst, but he was more of a scifi kind of guy.

It was a typical plotline. A lady is scheduled to marry a prince but she's in love with a commoner guy. Lazy writing. It's been done before. But maybe...

Is it too childish to hope for a miracle on Christmas?

He sat with rapt attention through the whole ordeal. At one point the lady runs away to meet her forbidden true love (even though it's totally going to get her caught and in trouble and might even get the lover killed). They start kissing and taking off their clothes, but Tim isn't paying much attention now because this is the moment! He listened for the doorbell, for a knock, for a car, for a voice... But no parents came running. No one was there at the door. Why did he even hope...

Tim glared angrily at the two naked people on screen, "Is it too much to wish for my family to be here on Christmas??"

Then a *ding dong* came from the front of the house. Tim paused the TV. Wait. Could it be?

One second he was in the living room, the next he was swinging the front door open without any hesitation,

"Mom?? Dad??" Tim called excitedly before realizing who was there, "Oh... Hey, Dick. Uh, come on in." He tried not to look disappointed.

"I thought you were going to visit the Manor?" Dick pouted, walking in. Only then did Tim notice Alfred was following him.

"I lost track of time." Tim said honestly, "I'm sorry." Oh God, what if Bruce was upset with him? What if Bruce hates him now?? What if he ends up leaving Tim for months at a time and lies about being home for Christmas??

"Where are your parents?" Dick asked, but it was more rhetorical than anything. He could no doubt see the puffy eyes of someone who spent the night crying. Tim answered anyway.

"Africa."

"Still, on Christmas?" Alfred raised both his eyebrows in disapproval.

"It's not their fault! It's... work stuff. They don't... they said they'd rather be here with me but... It's not a big deal."

"Well, as that may be, Master Timothy, I insist you join us today and tonight at Wayne Manor."

"Yeah!" Dick chirped. "Alfred made a ton of food, like, all of your favorites! Didn't you, Al?"

"Indeed, I did, sir."

"But, Bruce-"

"Is the one that asked us to come and make sure you're okay." Dick smiled, "He's waiting for us. Actually, I think he really missed you on patrol last night."

"Really?"

"If I may," Alfred whispered, "Master Bruce also specifically requested I hang up a stocking with your name on it."

No way. But... Alfred wouldn't lie about that would he... Bruce really... Wow

"...Right. I'll visit him as scheduled and then leave." By the glint in Dick's eye though, Tim had a feeling he'd be staying in the Manor longer than planned. And honestly? That sounded a lot better than staying in this house alone.

"Great! I'll get your coat." Dick walked around the corner to the living room. "It's this way, right? Oh. Huh. I remember this movie."

Oh.

"TURN IT OFF IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE-"

The end.

[lightcomingthroughthedarkness]

Okay I've this idea stuck in my mind that I hope comes true. What if the anomaly isn't time portal but a INTERDIMENSIONAL portal. Can you imagine all the main characters interacting with "themselves"? (Oh God two Murphy's face to face we would be doomed) What if they meet their book versions and the original characters meet the ones they were based at like Raven meets Luke? I know this is unlikely but do you think this could be an interesting storyline?

Yeah, that would be cool and kinda funny seeing them face "themselves". I can almost accept anything with the anomaly, it can be whatever Jason wants it to be. Though I'm not sure the logistics would work. That's a lot of actors pulling dubble time with a lot of SFX. And I don't think this show has the budget for that.

My wish for the anomaly is that it is a modern day world they step into with a lot of scifi stuff of course. I would die to see them walk on normal streets, using normal clothes etc, just drop the damn swords. I mean, we've already had them on the ground/post apocalyptic earth, we've had time in space and now they live in a world that's the equivalent of what I assume it felt like being high on LSD circa 1978. Give me normal ass colors and normal clothes, just keep the scifi.

It doesn't have to be timetravel. It could be another dimension kind of thing. Reeeeeally want them to enter a modern day world.

[childrenofankhseries]

Tragic Fools Extended Teaser. Titillating New Dark Fantasy Scifi 2021.

Chapter 1

Psychic Ex Issues

The bliss of sun-kissed skin awakened her. Twitching fingers in velvety sand as a heavenly breeze tickled her spine, Kayn peered up, grinning. Somebody gave her an immortal time out. Even with unlimited free passes to the in-between, a surprise trip was jarring until she recalled why she died. Who killed her this time? Cross-legged in pristine desert with silky granules trickling through fingers, her memory kicked in, clarifying why she was deceased. Lexy knocked on her door and took her out of the equation. Their Oracle must have caught Kevin telepathically asking her to warn him before Ankh stole the girl he had a thing for. Her attachment to him was always getting her in trouble. She shouldn’t be having conversations with an ex-boyfriend while in bed with her new one. Frost’s patience had to be wearing thin. They’d just been separated as punishment for killing Kevin at a banquet. She tossed her ex off a balcony for giving her a clover. It was still funny. Sensing a presence, Kayn got up, squinting in luminescence.

    Ankh’s Guardian Azariah sighed, “I’m beginning to think you enjoy being punished.”

    She didn’t know what to say, she kind of did.

    “Being part Guardian doesn’t mean you can bend rules to your will,” the angelic entity reprimanded.

    Brushing the sand off her short ivory in-between attire, Kayn responded, “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

    With divine angelic light attaching Clan Ankh’s Guardian to the sky, Azariah wandered off, explaining, “That’s just it, if he can tap into your mind, you have no say over what he knows.”

    Keeping pace, strolling the clean slate desert with warm silken sand underfoot, beneath an azure sky, Kayn thought of a monarch butterfly. An orange and black distraction flitted by as proof she wasn’t focusing on what the Guardian was saying.

    The angelic entity trailing radiant light, scolded, “I’m not talking to hear myself speak, child.”

    She wasn’t a child. Now, a variety of vibrant butterflies were fluttering around. She couldn’t shut her feral imagination down. Wincing, Kayn apologised, “I’m listening, I swear.”

    With a clap of her hands, distractions vanished. Smiling, Azariah carried on, “Here is the issue, Ankh needs a Venom before Immortal Testing. As you know, the Third -Tier sped up the timeline in response to the glitch your group used to get out. Currently, Triad is the only Clan with one. Your ex’s crush means nothing. Residual mortal sentiment is clouding your judgement.”

    It was, she couldn’t deny it.

💘

    Back in the land of the living, Ankh’s Oracle voluntarily stayed with Zach to make sure Kayn remained deceased until their compromised job was finished. Relaxing on the queen-sized bed by Kayn’s corpse, Jenna mindlessly flicked channels.  

    With Kayn’s head on his lap, Zach gently stroked her hair, asking, “Do we have to keep killing her? Can’t we lock her in a tomb?”

    “The bracelet to block Kevin’s connection isn’t working. I need to tweak it. He’s psychic, they’re linked. Taking her out when we’re dealing with Triad may be our only option.”

    “We all have ties to other Clans, I used to be Triad,” Zach implored, meeting Jenna’s eyes.

    “Aren’t you glad we stole you?” Jenna baited as Kayn’s chest rose and fell. “Heads up, Handler. She’s back.”

    “Can’t we just keep her occupied? She doesn’t know where they went,” Zach bartered.

    “Azariah needs time with her, a Guardian’s word is law, take her out,” Jenna instructed.

    Looping an arm around her neck, he released his grasp as she went limp, muttering, “You’re doing it next time.”

    “Suck it up Zach, you’re immortal.” Jenna teased with a smile.

💘    

    Everything was uncomfortably white as Kayn opened her eyes with a brief flash of waking up in the hospital after her Sweet Sleep. This time, it wasn’t Kevin by her side as she clued into where she was. She remembered this place. She’d been here before.

    Radiance encompassed Ankh’s Guardian Azariah as she helped Kayn up, praising, “Impressive regeneration time.”

    “I’ve been healing faster,” Kayn admitted, grimacing as she took in where she was. A blank white cell. The word nothing described this destination. She had concentration issues. Funny, well played Azariah, bravo. It felt like their Guardian was working up to an epic punishment reveal.

    Grinning, Azariah explained, “Time runs faster in a blank cell. Your soul can’t escape or think up distractions. We’ll stay here, so your Handler doesn’t have to keep killing you each time you rise.”  

    An immortal penalty box, so she couldn’t think up butterflies or heal herself to escape the boredom, clever. Kayn had to ask. “Am I going to be punished?”

    “Do you need to be punished?” Azariah probed with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

    Damn it, she did. There was a lingering silence as it sunk in. It felt like she could stop Kevin from having access to her mind if she wanted him gone. There it was…her truth. She wanted a way to keep their friendship alive, even if they were supposed to be enemies. Even if they always would be. He was her last attachment to a mortal simplicity that was no longer. She was going to lose the trust of her Clan. It felt like she was in the Testing again, being forced to see past mortal bonds engrained in her being.

    “Calm down, we don’t want to sever the connection. The Clans join forces on occasion. We need to control the flow of information. Having two Guardian offspring in the same Clan, Ankh may require assistance as you did when Abaddon tried to force you to send a group through the Hall of Souls. My brother jumped the gun when he took the cap off your abilities. You are a spiritual anomaly, a Conduit who is part Guardian. The Third-Tier will be looking for a way to take you out of the equation to hold off the Daughters of Seth Prophecy.”

    It would be helpful if someone explained what the Daughters of Seth Prophecy was.

    Grinning, Ankh’s Guardian, replied, “Prophecies have a loose narrative. New moves come into play. It couldn’t be worse timing to train a new group for Testing, with survivors in the middle of the evolution process. Believing they’ve set us up for failure by giving us an unbeatable scenario, reveals the Third-Tier’s weakness. They underestimate us. We thrive in impossible situations. Knowing a Venom can put trapped souls into hibernation in a sleep chamber to await freedom with the next continent in gives us a way. When all is lost, all one needs is a faint glimmer of hope and courage to fight. If we find a Venom for the next Testing group, we have an insurance clause. It’s that simple.”

    Sure, they’ll just find a rare immortal being in a North American population of 346.3 million. “Do Guardian magic and point one out, I’m on it,” Kayn saucily replied.

    “Being confined to this spiritual plain has limitations. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to have another look at the basis of your connection to the Triad,” Azariah asked in shimmering light with open arms.

    As Kayn stepped into the Guardian’s divine embrace, the predatory Conduit was subdued by tranquillity in the root of her being. Beautiful memories floated through her stream of consciousness with easy smiles and magical healing kisses on wounded knees. She drifted off to sleep each night snuggling stuffed animals, feeling safe. She recalled easy laughter in carefree moments, racing siblings in the upstairs hallway to see who’d be first to slide on their tummy down carpeted stairs. Family days on the beach building sandcastles by the sea, turning over rocks to capture fleeing crabs. Salty ocean air through an open car window on the drive home and grape soda stains on her sleeping brother’s face. Childhood sleepovers using hairbrushes as microphones, jumping on beds. Snuggling under blankets watching movies devouring bowls of pink elephant popcorn on the couch. Climbing to the highest branch of the apple tree where they’d perch to eat while viewing their entire world. In every scenario, Kevin was present or referenced to tug her heart back.  

    Maturing in visions, she reached the age of Correction. Blissfully unaware of her demise, she sprinted across a finish line as a track champion with Kevin overzealously cheering. Each moment, every action, forging an unbreakable bond, maturing into love, solidifying a link created by thousands of unforgettable moments.

    Caressing her hair, Azariah summoned her out of the visions, whispering, “We can leave the connection open. I’m secure, he won’t violate your trust.”

    Part of her wanted to remain in the beautiful lucid dream with only light in her soul, void of the darkness she often found herself lost in. “I wish I could go back,” Kayn confessed, in her arms, pining for the simple bliss of childhood.

    Knowing she wasn’t ready to let go, Azariah assured, “Those memories will always be wherever you are.”

    “I’m not good at being immortal,” Kayn mumbled.

    “Who is?” Azariah taunted, stepping away to meet her eyes, lovingly tucking curls behind her ear.

    “You kept Jenna for decades,” Kayn sparred, smiling.

    Intrigued by her choice, the Guardian disclosed, “Jenna sacrificed herself for someone else’s misdeeds.”

    She hadn’t heard this story.

    Her luminescent relation explained, “We accepted an ill-advised deal believing Haley’s Testing group was destined to survive. Alas, Oracle’s predictions rarely come with a time stamp. Haley did survive twenty years later when intuition led her to you. Fortunately, Jenna was powerful enough to maintain duties through psychic connections.”

    Their Clan was soap opera. Curious, Kayn enquired, “Whose punishment did Jenna take?”  

    Azariah teased, “You’ll figure it out.”

    Why aren’t we using Haley?  

    “She’s a talented intuitionist but decades lost in a Venom-induced dream state stunted Haley’s Enlightening process. She isn’t a viable Oracle yet,” the angelic being responded to her thought.

    Psychics advertise, they can’t be that difficult to find. Fascinated, Kayn suggested, “Can’t we just make an appointment with a psychic and snag one?”

    “There are varying degrees of Clairvoyant. Only top tier has a shot at surviving Testing. The new girl Emma is top tier, but if her group can’t connect, it won’t matter,” Azariah clarified with a genuine smile.

    Standing in a blank slate room having a casual chat, Kayn forgot she was speaking to a heavenly being. Her Aunt. That was still weird. If they stole the girl, Kevin would think she didn’t care. She wasn’t supposed to. She needed to get back to Frost so she could explain. Feeling a tickle, Kayn looked at her hand as it began disintegrating into sand. Well, this isn’t supposed to happen.

    Unamused by her niece’s ability to override commands, Azariah loudly clapped her hands, scowling. Kayn solidified, the miffed majestic being, reprimanded, “I haven’t granted you permission to leave.”

    “I can’t control this shit,” Kayn lipped like an insolent teen.

    “Are you insane? Have you forgotten who you’re with?” Azariah fired back.

    What was wrong with her? Kayn said, “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

    Furious, Azariah paced back and forth, towing a beam of sparkling light in the room of nothing, muttering, “Seth, you ignorant ass. Idiot.”

    Oh, shit. She broke a Guardian. Kayn nervously apologised, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

    “I guess there’s no point in staying here. We might as well enjoy the scenery,” the luminescent being, sighed, half-assed waving her hand.

    In a flash of blinding light, the pair was in a meadow of flowers, ankle-deep in lush, fragrant grass under a splotchy blue sky. It always looked like someone tossed buckets of paint up there. They wandered in silence. With each step into the bliss-inducing experience, fragrant flowers, gentle humming of bees and whispering butterfly’s wings, reminded her of how blessed she was to be granted access to this magical world.

    Out of nowhere, Azariah coyly asked, “What powers do you have?”

    Her horrible excuse for a parental figure cautioned her about disclosing certain things.

    Stopping, Azariah laughed, “You know I can hear your thoughts, just tell me what we’re up against so we can find a way to hide it.” Making herself comfortable in the grass, she prompted, “Sit, confess all, I vow to find a way to help you.”

    Guess there was no point in attempting to hide anything. Kayn sat by her, disclosing, “I’ve created orbs of light. Blue orbs blow things up, and white ones get me in trouble, you know about that incident.”

    “Yes, accidentally sending forty demons through the hall of souls doesn’t go unnoticed. Tri-Clan will be cleaning up that mess for years, and now, you have a target on your back. You are the magical ticket to mortality for every demon out there,” Azariah chuckled, picking grass and tossed it.

    Kevin always did that. Kayn’s heart clenched as her thoughts travelled back to her mortal life. Steering her mind away, she confessed, “Conduit, Siren and I may have stopped a bullet or two.”

    “Next time, you’re here we’ll talk about that. I’m sensing our time is up,” Azariah answered. Plucking a pink flower, the Guardian tucked it behind Kayn’s ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”

    White light blinded her. As the glare ceased, Kayn saw Kevin’s Granny in youthful form, with freckles and flowing red hair. Winnie announced, “The job is done. Kayn is free to leave.”

    A part of her always wanted to run into Kevin’s grandmother’s arms. She’d loved Granny Winnie and missed her but knew they weren’t the same people. They weren’t even people at all, only pawns in an immortal game. It was time to go back and deal with the fallout from her secret conversation with Kevin. If the situation were reversed, and Frost was chatting with an ex next to her in bed, she’d be hurt. Her Mother’s words, sprang to mind, ‘Omitting part of the truth to protect someone’s feelings never works out how you think it will.’ She was right. She may never have the chance to say those words, but she could honour her memory by listening to her advice.

    Smiling at her inner dialogue, young Granny suggested, “Tell the truth, and let chips fall where they may. It’s a long afterlife, you have nothing but time.”

    With that telltale glint in her eyes, she’d always know it was her, no matter what age Winnie appeared. Unable to help it, Kayn asked, “Did Ankh take the girl?” Laughing, Azariah vanished.

    Used to her one-track mind, Winnie disclosed, “She was stolen by Trinity while Ankh and Triad were fighting. Kevin knows it was Trinity,” Winnie replied as the scenery flashed and they were strolling through the warm, inviting desert.

    This timeout was for nothing. Feeling strange, Kayn looked at her hand as she disintegrated into a cloud of golden dust and floated away on a gentle breeze.

    Opening her eyes, with her head on Zach’s lap in the land of the living. There was panic in his eyes. Here we go.

    “Trinity may already be here. Small talk later. Get your jacket, grab your bag, we need to run,” her Handler urged.

    “What’s going on?” Kayn said, scrambling into her boots. They sprinted down the hall, took the stairs and dashed out into the frigid Alaskan air. Oh, sweet lord, it was cold. The RV was gone. They got left behind.

    Going back inside, Zach gave her the rundown, “Trinity snuck in and stole the Venom while Ankh and Triad were fighting at the other job. Jenna had a vision and took off. Mel came in and gave me an Aries group card, saying, if the RV is gone, don’t panic, join the distractions at the pub.”

    Walking down the hall, Kayn vowed, “I wasn’t going to tell him anything.”

    “I know,” her Handler affirmed as they entered the pub and took off their jackets. “Game face, Brighton,” he teased, as they strolled up to the counter of local riffraff. Chuckling, Zach patted down her bedhead, whispering, “You’re looking recently resurrected feral this evening.”

    She’d been hoping it was Frost and Lily with Mel as distractions. She didn’t see anyone she recognised.

    Nudging her, Zach whispered, “Ten o’clock.”

    She glanced to her upper left and giggled. Ten o’clock. In an unexpected plot twist, their backup was Killian from the other continent with his massive muscular frame and wavy mane, sitting by a curvaceous black goddess so breathtaking, everyone was enamoured. With those two alluring unicorns, Mel seamlessly blended in with locals, downing shots like it was the end of the world.

    Leaning in, Zach whispered in her ear, “She is insanely hot, I’m going in.”

    That seductive being was way out of Zach’s league. He was in the minors, destined to strike out so fast, all you’d see is a blur of her blowing him off. Owing her Handler for blindly believing in her innocence, Kayn said, “Go Zach.” Snickering, as they picked up their drinks and strolled over.

    Killian raised his glass in greeting, “Guess we’re diversion buddies, our plan to be newbie protection backup was foiled by a five-minute bathroom break. Drink up, you two. Jenna says, acting like nobody is showing up until tomorrow and looking unprepared is how we’re going to buy the others enough time to get away.”

    “Emery,” the hot stranger introduced herself, extending her perfectly manicured hand to Zach.

    Awestruck, Zach shook her hand, flirting, “Your British accent is amazing.”

    Grinning, Amar’s continent’s vixen, cheekily reciprocated, “Your everything is amazing.”

    Wow. Zach didn’t usually have girls come on this strong.

    A tray of shots was placed on their table. Killian raised one, saluting, “Go hard or go home.”

    The table of immortals slammed three in a row, throwing caution to the wind. Emery seemed familiar. “Have we met?” Kayn enquired, shaking her hand.

    “I was blitzed at our last banquet, it’s possible. Either way, it’s nice to meet you coherent,” Emery toyed.

    The way Mel was slamming drinks back, their play was obvious. They were expecting Thorne. Mel was the bait.  

    “Slow down, love. I don’t want to hold your hair later while you’re parking the tiger,” Emery commented, coyly sipping wine, adjusting her seductively crossed legs.

    Parking the tiger?

    “Hurling, upchucking, technicolour yawn, ralph,” Killian deciphered British slang.

    “Praying to the porcelain god, barfing, boot and rally, blowing chunks, tossing your cookies,” Zach commentated.

    “Chilling my anxiety, it’ll sting less when he ignores me. The girl Thorne was seeing made it out of Testing with the other continent. He may be over me,” Mel disclosed, doing another shot.

    “You’re not that easy to get over, Mel,” Zach affirmed, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

    Where did she know Emery from? It was driving her crazy. All eyes darted to the door as Trinity wandered in.

    Zach whispered, “Heads up.”

    Raking a hand through his sexy mane, Killian whispered, “Immortal lie detector in the house, get ready to pull out the big guns, Mel.”

Chapter 2

Royal Pain in Thorne’s Ass

            Some bonds can’t be broken by time. Mel’s eyes locked with the leader of Trinity’s as he came in.

Ultimately, losing him had been a choice. She’d chosen Ankh over Trinity. It was her call.

Her time with Trinity before coming to Ankh was tumultuous. She’d been a royal pain in Thorne’s ass. Guilt-ridden, she spent nearly a year trying to kill herself as penance for her family’s demise. For an immortal with a healing ability, it was pointless. She lured him in with ridiculous drama. His days were devoted to convincing her she was worthy of being saved, and hers were spent proving why she wasn’t. With an intense connection teetering on the edge of more, everyone knew they cared for each other. On her final night with Trinity, she was about to leap to her temporary demise when their feelings came to fruition in an explosion of passion on a cliffside beneath the stars. The next day, she ended up in Ankh.    

    Since becoming Ankh, whenever she found herself in the leader of Trinity’s presence, either he was aggravated by the games she was playing or cautioning her to stay away during a fight so he wouldn’t be forced to harm her. Tonight, Mel was plotting to use his feelings to distract him so her Clan could get away with their unsealed under eighteen Ankh. When he walked past her to the bar, she couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t stupid.

    Pulling a chair up to their table, her old friend Glory, declared, “I’ll bite. Mel, Zach and Kayn, we expected. Emery and Big Sexy are a surprise. Are you here protecting Amar’s kid?”

    Big Sexy, that was funny.

    “Go ahead, take a shot for having the balls to strut in here like you stand a chance,” Killian provoked, sliding the tray over.

    “They’re in the hotel, aren’t they?” Glory grilled, looking into Mel’s eyes.

    Smiling, Mel redirected their conversation, “It’s nice to see you too.” She didn’t have to turn around, she felt him there. She did another shot before saying his name, “Thorne.”

    “Melody,” Thorne responded, pulling up a chair. “Did we get here early?”

    “I’m not saying a word,” Mel laughed, downing another.

    “You will,” Thorne boldly decreed, holding her captive with piercing blue truth-seeking eyes.

    She wanted him. Maybe she always would. Pretending to be carefree when she was freaking out inside was proving to be difficult.

    “If you keep slamming shots, you’ll tell me everything,” Thorne teased, snatching a shot of whisky off their tray.

    Without his fib extracting eyes leaving hers, he licked a droplet off his bottom lip, and her mind went blank. What was she supposed to be doing? About to match his shot, Mel put it down. He was right. She needed to buy time, good thing she had a million things to confess. If it wasn’t what he was here for, why not? Shaking her head, Mel switched topics, “I’m glad the girl you were seeing made it out with the other continent.”

    “That was nothing,” Thorne confessed, sliding his hand over hers like they were alone in the room. “I was just trying to stop myself from doing something reckless at a banquet.”

    “Me?” Mel baited with a charming, dimpled grin.

    “You,” Thorne disclosed. “In retrospect, we should have spent the night together for closure.” Caressing her palm, he whispered, “I still miss you.” Getting back on task, Trinity’s leader compelled, “Is it just the five of you at the bar?”

    Checking for witnesses, Mel said, “Yes.” Bringing up the elephant in the room, she whispered, “You’re here to steal our unsealed Ankh.”

    Tucking her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ears, like she usually wore it, Thorne answered, “Obviously.”

    He thought her nervous tick was a style choice, cute. “You won’t,” Mel confidently stated, sliding him another whisky.

    “Trinity doesn’t participate in drunk fight club,” Thorne teased, downing the drink.

    Grinning, Mel provoked, “What about pillow fight club? You used to love pillow fight club.”

    He mic dropped reality, “There were no pillows on our cliff.”

    Our cliff. Tears filled her eyes as the passionate encounter on a cliff beneath the stars surfaced. She whispered, “I spent a year trying to kill myself, knowing it wouldn’t work because I’m immortal. How did you have the patience to deal with me? How are you so optimistic and understanding when our afterlives are this hard?”

    “Because there were people like you, along the way,” he admitted with a sheen of tears.

    She was going to have to confess everything else to stop herself from telling him what she wasn’t supposed to say. Pulling it together, Mel said, “I tuck my hair behind my ears when I’m nervous.”

    Playing with her hair, Thorne probed, “Do I still make you nervous?”

    Mel nodded, lost in his steel blue lie extracting eyes. No matter what she did, her heart wouldn’t let go of that beautiful night. They had to get over each other this wasn’t healthy.

    Tenderly kissing her hand, he admitted, “You make me nervous too. Whenever we run into each other, it aches like we lost each other yesterday. I try to stay away. I’ll be arguing with myself, then you smile with those dimples and I can’t.”

    “Thorne,” she whispered as he slid a hand onto her knee.

    Caressing it, he whispered, “Mel.”

    She wanted to tear his clothes off.

    Making it clear he caught her thought, Thorne leaned in and whispered, “Right here?”

    “Come to my room, so we can be alone. You foiled the job and stole the girl. You know where our backup is,” Mel persuaded. She needed to prove her heart wrong.

    Thorne suggested, “Let’s go to my room where we won’t be interrupted.”

    Worrying she was the one being played, she put it to rest knowing who he was. In this scenario, she was the bad guy. Leaving their coats on the rack, they slipped out, speed-walked down the hall, hitting nearly a jog as they scooted into the elevator, laughing. As the elevator door slid shut, their mouths met in passionate persuasion.

    Breathless as their lips parted, Thorne gazed into her eyes, confessing, “I do love you.”

    “I’ve never stopped. I wish…” Her declaration of love was interrupted as the elevator door slid open, revealing a Trinity poised with bow drawn. He’d set her up. An arrow whooshed into her heart. Stunned, Melody dropped. Thorne cradled her in his arms as the light flickered and went out.

Chapter 3

Big Sexy Snacks

The rest of Ankh’s distractions were three sheets to the wind dancing when Ankh symbols heated beneath their fingerless gloves, letting them know one of their own was dead. They sprinted out of the pub into the hall. The elevator opened as they approached. Mel’s body was on the floor with a gaping chest wound and blood pooling behind her.

    Killian commented, “Taking out our only Healer, smart. Emery, there’s a camera. If the footage is stored online, we’ll need to call the Aries group. Zach, go with her, watch her back.” They slipped out as the door closed.

    “An arrow to the heart?” Killian questioned as he broke the camera and pressed garage.

    Focused on willing energy into Mel, Kayn didn’t reply. Mel gasped as her eyes opened.

    “Impressive, you’re a Healer too,” Killian remarked, as he held out a hand to help her up.

    Dizzy, Kayn held his gaze and said, “Trust me,” as she siphoned enough energy to stay on her feet through their joined hands. Confused, the burly Adonis swayed, quickly regaining his bearings. While helping Mel up, Kayn looked at her snack and asked, “You good?”

    “All good, energy thief,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

    His energy made her feel like she could bench press a Buick. Kayn directed, “Mel, take off your shirt and sop up as much blood as you can. Killian, give Mel your shirt so she isn’t topless.” They dressed, and cleaned with the elevator open, thankful for the heated landing.

    Reading a text, Killian announced, “They have our bags and jackets from the bar. Trinity’s coats were still in the pub. I bet they’re searching the hotel. We’ll have to run out to the truck without jackets. Let’s go!”

    Darting out into frigid two am Alaskan air through icy crackling snow, they got into the truck. Emery casually drove away from the hotel with the biggest grin as they put coats on and noticed there were too many.

    Killian chuckled, “Did you take everyone’s jackets?”

    “I did,” Emery laughed. “Zach also may have flattened the tires of every vehicle in the parking lot.”

    Everyone was celebrating their escape. Kayn dug through her bag praying her cell was in there. The light was blinking. There was a message. Afraid to read it, she stared at the flashing light. Reality was a buzz kill. She’d been the cause of their separation again. He had to be getting sick and tired of her shit. Hell, she was getting tired of her shit. Nobody uttered a syllable until they hit smooth highway. They started talking, avoiding the topic of ex-boyfriend’s arrows. Strength shifted to fatigue as Kayn’s brain recalled bringing Mel back to life. She needed to close her eyes.

    Nudging her, Zach prompted, “Look at the message.”

    “So, I can see how ticked off he is? No thanks. I’ll wait for the live show,” Kayn said, yawning.

    Zach instantly yawned. Yawning loudly, Killian scolded, “Stop that crap. I don’t need to be yawning for hours.”

    He’d mentioned yawning. They all yawned again triggering each other in a ridiculous chain, except for Emery, which struck her as peculiar.

    Snatching Kayn’s phone, Mel read it, and gave it back, saying, “Yeah, he’s pissed. At least he didn’t seduce you into an elevator, tell you he loved you and get a Trinity to shoot an arrow into your heart when the door opened.”

    “Shit Mel, that’s brutal, I’m sorry, hun,” Zach consoled, caressing her shoulder.

    “Why are you sorry? You didn’t shoot an arrow into my heart?” Mel sparred, lightening the tension. Meeting Kayn’s eyes, she assured, “It’s not that bad. He just says you need to talk.”

    When though? How long would she have to wait? All Dragon excuses aside, if she wanted their relationship to last longer than five minutes, she had to start thinking about how her actions affected him. Ripping off the band-aid, Kayn texted Frost. Full disclosure, Kevin has a thing for the Venom girl everyone wants. He must have had a vision. He asked me not to take her. You were asleep. She gave it to Zach to read over. He looked at it and pressed send. “What in the hell, Zach? I just wanted you to read it.”

    He chuckled, “You’ll thank me later. It would be silly for him to be ticked off after reading that. You didn’t really do anything wrong, Brighton. You just omitted the truth so he wouldn’t be ticked you were in bed with him, mind chatting with your ex.”

    Everyone else started laughing as Killian glanced back, asking, “Is Brighton American slang?”

    “That’s her mortal last name, Kayn’s Canadian,” Zach explained, grinning.

    “I love that, Brighton,” Killian stated. “Were you really in bed with Frost mind chatting with an ex? I’d be choked.”

    With her eyes on the snowy road ahead, as tires crunched over gravel-strewn icy highway, Emery shared, “If memory serves a night with Frost is many hours of cardio. I think it’s badass that you bedded him and chatted with an ex. He’s been a player for eight hundred years. He deserves that Karma.”

    Great, she wasn’t going to be able to unhear that. Emery and Frost slept together.

    Catching her reaction, Emery backtracked, “Sorry about just blurting that out, it was a long time ago. No big deal.”

    If you’re going to get ticked off every time you bump into someone Frost slept with, you’re going to be pissed off a lot,” Killian chuckled, changing the music. Emery slapped his hand. Giggling, he playfully swatted back.

    Mel changed the subject, “Where are we going?”

    “We’re driving east through northern B.C into Alberta to meet up with Markus’ crew,” Killian explained. “Who can drive? We should break this up into four-hour shifts.”

    Zach and Melody volunteered, Kayn admitted, “I drove once in a parking lot.”

    “I’ll teach you how to drive,” Emery laughed as the tail end of the truck swerved on black ice and recovered.

    Unaffected by the drama, Killian suggested, “Pull over, I’m switching seats with Zach. Brighton stole my energy.”

    They stopped, leapt out into snow much deeper than it looked and comically switched up the seating arrangement. Kayn grinned as the mountainous Viking looking guy made himself comfortable, taking up a humorous amount of the backseat.

    “Wake me up when it’s my turn,” Killian mumbled as he conked out.

    She’d never seen anyone go to sleep like that. The musclebound Adonis had a breathy coo as a snore. It was kind of adorable. Sleep was doable. Closing her eyes, Kayn slipped into a dream, listening to Zach and Emery chatting like long lost friends.

    Waking up, stiff and sore, Kayn stretched as she sat up. They were parked at a rest stop with a convenience store. What time is it? It smelled like greasy burgers. There was a gross amount of garbage in the back. How long was she asleep? She gathered up the trash into a bag. They must have let her sleep. She couldn’t go inside and leave the engine running. Groggily, she searched for her cell. There was another message from Frost. Her growling tummy took precedence as she texted Zach. I can’t get out of the truck, please bring snacks and juice. Her phone vibrated with Zach’s response. Already on it. Grinning, she read Frost’s message. You can make it up to me today when you get here. Joy flooded her senses. Forgetting her relationship paranoid boyfriend filter, she wrote, love you. She pressed send. Oh, crap. Mortified, Kayn stared at her phone. Why did she do that? Her cell vibrated. She read his response. Ditto, Queen of mixed signals. Giggling, she relaxed. She hadn’t wrecked it yet. She wasn’t meaning to give him mixed signals. This wasn’t how she imagined love would be. Loving him felt like she was always about to lose something. Things were much simpler when she was blissfully ignorant relationship-wise. The love she had for Kevin was pristine childlike certainty. Loving Frost felt like jumping out of a plane with a chute that may not open. What she felt for him terrified her. He must feel the same way. She’d been all over the place mentally since surviving the Testing, rarely in control of which ability surfaced. Only the Siren ability came easily. She thought back to that night in Mexico when Frost tried explaining how hard it was going be with the complications of their abilities. He’d vowed to keep trying, so had she, but hadn’t understood what he meant. She did now. Trying, was all they could promise each other. Her road trip buddies were on their way back to the truck with bags of snacks, chatting. Kayn silenced her inner dialogue as Emery fumbled with the keypad.

    As everyone got in, Killian commented, “Sleeping Beauty has awakened and summoned the backseat cleaning elves. I’ll run this to the garbage. Sorry, I knew it was gross back here. You’ve been out cold for a day and a half.” He hopped out and sprinted to the trash can with the bag.

    A day and a half? She wasn’t a napper. That was strange.

    Killian got back in and shut the door as Mel passed her a takeout bag. Yes. She was starving. Kayn peeked in. “You got me a burrito, you’re amazing, thanks Mel.” As they pulled away, she quietly observed Zach, riding up front flirting with Emery. Mel was pretending she wasn’t devastated. Killian was trying to lift her spirits. Being murdered by your ex dampens one’s mood. She’d experienced that heartbreak. She barely knew Thorne, but the guy radiated goodness, what he’d done was hard to believe. It felt like there must be way more to the story. On the bright side, maybe Mel would finally be able to move on from the fantasy of what might have been. A flicker of memory brought her back to Kevin slitting her throat in Immortal Testing, solidifying the truth of where they stood with him in Triad and her, in Ankh. Yes, being murdered by someone you were devoted to made the situation crystal clear. She’d gone on an unhinged murder spree in the Testing. Melody wasn’t like her though. Her friend was rational, calm, and innately good to her core. Naughty, on occasion, but those lines between right and wrong always seemed finite for her. Unwrapping her burrito, Kayn dumped a disgusting amount of hot sauce on and devoured it.

    Watching with morbid fascination, Killian commented, “You do the hot sauce thing like Lexy. Amar does that too you know. I’ve always been curious as to why?”

    Shrugging, Kayn downed a jug of juice. She was still hungry. Ravenous, she dug through bags. Nothing was appealing. Killian smelled good though. She’d brought Mel back from the dead, fed off his energy and he’d stayed on his feet. It was rather impressive. She didn’t know him well enough to ask him for the kind of snack she suspected, she needed. Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Kayn, and I eat supernatural energy. Yours is rather addictive, I’d like more. Her inner dialogue was getting crazy. Oh, fantastic. More immortal brain growing pains, when was this bullshit going to stop? Her stomach went off like a whale’s mating call.

    Eyes wide, Killian chuckled, “You alright, kid?”

    Scowling, Kayn nodded, knowing it was a lie. The burly immortal carried on chatting with Mel about being Orin’s daughter. Broiling, she wiped the perspiration off her brow. The crackling tires were echoing. She should ask them to pull over, something was happening to her. She’d had this sense of ability related foreboding before, it rarely went well. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Be calm. Her peripheral vision flickered ominously. Her heart was thudding like she ran a marathon. She’d been asleep for a day and a half. She needed to feed her ability but didn’t want these new people to know she fed off immortal energy. It might make things awkward. Killian smelled amazing. He had sweet, tasty, potent pheromones. She needed to get out of here. She wiped her brow. Her throat was so dry, she could barely swallow. If she ate them all, they’d have a nice long nap. Usually, someone called her out on her feral inner commentary by now. Maybe they couldn’t hear it? That was unfortunate, survival of the fittest wise. What was that? It felt like spiders were running around under her jacket. She didn’t like it. Imaginary arachnids scurried down her arms into her palms, making every hair stand on end. Oh, no. There were dark veins on her hands. Something was bubbling up under her skin. If spiders exploded from the boils on her hands, she was going to lose her shit! Struggling to remain calm, she cautioned, “Guys, I’m having an issue.” Nervously, Kayn watched sparks glittering on her fingertips. Shit. This was new. She nervously warned, “Guys.” Flames lit from the boils.

    Nudging Mel, Killian declared, “Your friend is on fire.”

    Panicking, Mel barked, “Pull over! Quick!”

    Looking back, her Handler cursed, “Shit! Calm down, Brighton. Breathe. Deep breaths.”

    Emery looked in the rear-view, the vehicle swerved to the side of the road. “I’m trying! Out! Get Away!” Kayn freaked, with her hands going off like sparklers on the Fourth of July. Everyone scrambled out, bailing into a snowbank as flames shot out her hands, igniting the interior. Power was coursing through her, it felt amazing. This is so cool. “Holy crap, I’m fireproof!” Kayn giggled as her flesh melted, laughing.

    “Get out!” Zach shouted, running at her as everyone else frantically pitched snow at the fire.

    Blistered, charred, engulfed in flames, Kayn hopped out. Zach leapt on her, smothering the blaze in a snowdrift. She giggled beneath her Handler. Her back stung. Maybe she wasn’t fireproof? That was stupid.

    Looking at her ash-covered face, Zach chuckled, “If you keep laughing like this, they’ll think you’re crazy.”  

    Everyone was fighting to put out the fire. They should help.  

    Zach wiped her cheek, and beneath the layer of ash, her skin was pristine. Shaking his head as he got up, he reached out a hand and urged, “Come on, Brighton.” With a peculiar grin, Zach enquired, “Feeling chilly?”

    Not really. Kayn looked down at the dangling shards of burnt material. Shit, her clothes were not fireproof.

    Emery shouted, “Run!”

    Everyone sprang into action as fluorescent orange winter jackets and a nearly naked girl covered in ash sprinted away from the engulfed vehicle. They stopped to watch like it wasn’t a big deal as it exploded.

    Covering her with his jacket as they stood, watching it burn, Zach quietly teased, “Nobody can see anything, you’re covered in ashes.”

    Her head was tingling. Kayn winced as she touched it and felt patches of stubble. Crap. Seriously? She sighed, “Am I bald?”

    Grinning, her Handler confessed, “You’re a little patchy. I wouldn’t worry, it’s visibly growing.”

    Launching a snowball, Killian announced, “Everyone left their phones in the truck, didn’t they?”

    “Mine was in my pocket,” Kayn answered casually.

    “A heads up on the pyrokinesis would have been nice,” romance novel Viking looking Adonis, baited.

    “Yeah, it sure would have. Am I still burned or is it the temperature on my ass?” Kayn saucily countered, winking at Killian. Almost cool for a split second, she tripped over her own feet. Zach caught her before she faceplanted.

    “You’re hilarious,” Killian chuckled as they trudged away from the flame gutted truck through knee-high drifts, with nothing but snow-covered farmland for miles.

    Everyone’s auras were a trippy light show. Nobody was too concerned. If their symbols went off so did the rest of their Clan’s. They were coming. She was toasty warm. So much heat was radiating from her, snow was conveniently melting, making her hike much easier but her head was crazy itchy. Zach was trembling in his t-shirt. She unzipped his jacket and suggested trading it for his shirt.

    “I’m fine,” Zach replied, shivering.

    Feeling guilty, Kayn pressed, “My healing ability has me toasty warm. Take the jacket. I did this, not you.”

    Smiling, Zach said, “You only got to that point because I was so busy flirting, I didn’t notice you were in trouble.”

    “She’s hot, it’s understandable,” Kayn sparred, as they wandered down the deserted road. She took Zach’s hand. His fingers were so frozen. She stopped, urging, “Trade me for the jacket, you are being ridiculous.”

    “Fine,” Zach chuckled. “Now that I’ve felt how warm your hands are, I’ll take it.” The others stopped as Kayn and Zach swapped clothing.

    They’d been trekking through the snow for a good hour when Kayn realised she’d drained her energy reserves. If she fed on anyone, they’d go down. Having faith, she could keep going until help arrived, she was a second from passing out when their ride showed up.

    Markus rolled down the window and laughed as he saw Kayn staggering like she was drunk in a t-shirt with a melted trail of snow behind her. He commented, “Rough day?”  

    Oh, thank god. Kayn teetered over and was out cold before she landed in the snow.

💘    

    Picking her up like she was as light as a feather, Killian placed Kayn in the back as exhausted Ankh squeezed in. Nobody spoke until Ankh’s leader pointed out, “Wouldn’t it have made more sense to walk in the melted snow behind her?”

    “Behind the surprise Firestarter, you failed to mention?” Killian ribbed, laughing.

    “Yes, the unconscious one,” Markus replied with a grin.

    “She’s tuckered out,” Mel decreed, lovingly stroking her hair. “Her Healing ability shorted out. She’s been melting snow for hours.”

    Markus pressed, “I need the whole story, to figure out how to pre-empt this. What happened, Zach?”

    “I was up front, I didn’t notice she was in trouble,” Zach admitted. “Mel started yelling for us to pull over. I tried to get her to breathe but she was already shooting flames from her hands. We all jumped out, except for Brighton, who thought she was fireproof.”

    “Our symbols went off, Zach started screaming at her to get out. He ran back, leapt on her, and smothered the flames in the snow. She was burnt to a crisp, but healed remarkably fast, and didn’t seem to be feeling any pain,” Mel disclosed, making sure their leader knew Zach acted heroically.

    “Go back further, something happened after you three were left at the hotel,” Markus prompted with his eyes on the road ahead. “Our symbols went off, one of you went down.”

    Mel confessed, “I thought I was playing Thorne, but he was playing me. He convinced me to go to his room, and when the elevator opened, I took an arrow in the heart.”

    With soft eyes, Markus asked, “Are you alright?”

    “Yeah, I’m okay,” Mel replied, avoiding his gaze.

    Markus quizzed, “Whose energy did Kayn use to heal?”

    Raising his hand like a child in elementary school, Killian confessed, “I thought we were going to have to hide a body. When I looked down, Kayn was done healing Mel. I didn’t even know she was a Healer. When I took her hand to help her up, she apologised and siphoned my energy. She only took a hair of what Amar’s Healers usually take.”

    “So, she brought Melody back without an energy transfer and fed from Killian after. Where were you, Zach?” Markus questioned.

    “I went with Emery to disable the security. I wasn’t with her in the elevator,” Zach admitted.  

    “Zach, her abilities are unstable. What happened to Mel could have hit too close to home and triggered the Dragon. Moving Killian’s body would have been an ordeal. It’s your job to keep her on an even keel,” Markus reprimanded, scowling in the rear-view.

    “I ordered him to go with Emery as backup,” Killian explained.

    Markus clarified, “We have no idea what she’s capable of. You’ve heard about her Guardian paternity but she’s also a Conduit. We haven’t dealt with this ability before. She can siphon and replicate our powers. She’s figured out how to summon Healing and Siren abilities but hasn’t been taught how to shut them down. She must have fed off Grey to have pyrokinesis on the menu. Now, she may have your strength, Killian. It’s my fault for not disclosing everything about the situation.”

    “How’s Lexy doing with everything?” Emery enquired, looking out the window.

    Watching the road as they hit the outskirts of the city, their leader answered, “Lexy rarely has deep chats with me about feelings. Normally, I’d tell you to ask Grey, but do us all a favour, don’t open that can of worms.” Noticing Zach’s silence, Markus met his eyes in the rear-view, reassuring, “Don’t beat yourself up about it, kid. I get it, someone more experienced gave you orders, and you obeyed. I know you’ve had a lot on your plate. The Handler job is relatively new. Shit happens. I’m sure you’ve heard about Trinity sneaking in and stealing the girl we were after while we were fighting Triad. Thanks to you guys, we didn’t lose our new Ankh. They’re safe because you five distracted Trinity.”

    “Personal drama aside, Trinity was on the ball this week,” Mel admitted, stroking Kayn’s restored hair. She looked at Killian and questioned, “She brought me back and didn’t go overboard feeding from you?”

    “I was dizzy,” Killian admitted, watching Mel playing with her hair. “She doesn’t look dangerous now, she looks like a soot dusted angel. She’s going to be freezing when she wakes up in nothing but that t-shirt. She’s clearly chilly.”

    It took Mel a second to figure out, Killian was referring to her sleeping friend’s headlights on high beam. She swatted him as he giggled.

Chapter 4

Enlightening Brain Growth Spurts

Groggily listening to crackling tires on gravel winterized road, Kayn questioned, “How long have I been asleep?”

    “For future reference, you’re not fireproof,” Mel teased, with city traffic outside the window.

    Confused by the tall buildings, Kayn sat up, wrapping her arms around her chest. She was losing a concerning amount of time during these Enlightening brain growth spurts. Zach took off his jacket and gave it to her, grinning as they pulled into the parking lot of a fancy hotel. She wasn’t dressed for this. She wasn’t dressed at all. Awkward.

    Everyone got out. Markus looked back, asking, “Feeling better?”

    It came back to her in an embarrassing whoosh of ability induced crazy behaviour. “I’m good,” Kayn answered, doing up the jacket. Her bottom half felt breezy. Oh, yes. She lit the truck on fire and burned her clothes off. She must have summoned up Grey’s ability, Killian smelled like a snack. She should keep that to herself.

    “You can’t eat anyone, Brighton. This is Lampir territory. We’re here under the pretence of mending fences. After that unfortunate incident with part of Lucien’s crew in Mexico, we’ve been sent to check the northern Hives for suspicious activity,” Markus lectured as he got out into the snow.

    Shit. She wasn’t wearing boots.

    Crouching, Killian offered, “Your chariot, my lady?”

    “Thanks for not leaving me to run over there barefoot,” Kayn giggled, climbing on his back, feeling like a kid as he jogged to catch up with the others.  

    Squatting in the covered area, Killian announced, “Front door service, my lady.”

    Knowing the jacket covered her, she didn’t give her chilly toosh a second thought as they walked into the classy beige lobby, like worn-out tourists who’d been on the road for days. Handing out key cards, Markus directed, “Clean up, order room service and stay on your floor until morning.”

    Hearing Frost’s laughter amidst humming voices, Kayn noticed the trendy bar and tried to look.

    Picking her up to shift her position, Killian chuckled, “Nothing to see here, energy thief. You aren’t going into a bar full of Lampir. We don’t need an international incident.”

    She wasn’t a moron. She knew what he did for the Clan. Hearing Frost’s musical laughter again, she wanted to sneak a peek. Everyone was deliberately blocking her line of sight like kids. Kayn laughed, “Come on, I’m not going in there to attack whoever he’s flirting with.”

    Staring into the bar, Zach cautioned, “Don’t look.”

    Well, she had to now. Kayn giggled, “I just need to use the washroom.” Manoeuvring past, she stopped cold as she saw what they were trying to prevent her from seeing. Frost was whispering in a scantily clad blonde’s ear. He noticed her watching and didn’t miss a beat pretending she wasn’t there.    

    Putting his arm around her, Grey walked her out, saying, “He’s trying to get information. Don’t make a scene. Come on, let’s go find you something to wear.”

    Crap. She forgot she was half-naked wearing a fluorescent orange parka. Squirming out of Grey’s grasp, Kayn asserted, “I’m fine. I know what his job is, I’m not going to eat a bunch of Lampir.” Embarrassed, she strutted adorably past the group, barelegged in a parka covered in soot, beckoning, “Zach! Come!” She didn’t even know what floor they were on.

    She was standing by the elevator stubbornly waiting as Zach wandered up, teasing, “What floor are we on?”

    “I don’t know,” Kayn curtly replied in awkward silence. Trying to keep a straight face as it opened, she marched into the elevator.

    As the door slid shut, he leaned against the mirrored wall, stating, “That was ridiculous.”

    “I know,” she admitted, giggling.

    “Let’s go, half-naked weirdo,” Zach chuckled as they wandered out of the elevator to a room conveniently across the hall. Opening the door, he stepped aside, grinning.

    This week sucked. She was genuinely bad at her job. Going directly to the minibar to get herself a tiny bottle of vodka, Kayn tried opening it. Oh, come on. She was a frigging superhero. She passed it to Zach, he couldn’t open it either. That was strange. “I give up, I’ll go shower,” she mumbled, shutting herself in the bathroom. Sighing, Kayn leaned against the door, reflecting on her behaviour. It was silly to be upset. She’d used her mirrored ability many times for the sake of the Clan with no self-control at all. If she got pissy about this, he’d just come back at her with the half dozen times she’d done the same thing since coming out of the Testing. She was acting like a headcase. She stuck her head back out, apologising, “I’m sorry, Zach.”

    With a smile, her Handler prompted, “I know, have your shower, so I can have mine.”

    Undoing the ugly parka, she grinned at her reflection in the mirror. There were black veins on her chest. It looked like she needed an exorcism more than a snack. Before Immortal Testing, nobody thought she could hurt a fly, and now, everyone assumed she was an inconvenient emotion away from a murder spree. Looking at her Conduit anxiety response veiny situation, they may have a point. They were blocking her from seeing Frost because if she got pissed off, they were on the menu. It was hilarious. Her inner commentary was getting weird again. Be calm. Be Zen. Be chill. She got into the shower, but there was no rushing the amount of soot she had to wash off. Zach should have showered first. Shit, she didn’t have clothes. Wrapped in a towel, Kayn wandered out. Her Handler wasn’t there, just Arrianna.    

    Lugging her backpack, Arrianna explained, “Markus told me what happened. Come on, let’s go back in the washroom, I’m sure we can find you something of mine to wear.”

    How? She felt like a big oafish giant, who ate small children and lived at the top of a beanstalk next to her.

    Shutting the door, the petite blonde made it clear she’d heard her inner commentary, taunting, “Shut that negative self-talk down before I chop down your beanstalk., you are beautiful.” Inspecting her hungry Conduit ability situation, Arrianna explained, “Emotions are the trigger, that’s why seeing Frost working wasn’t a great idea when you were already having issues. Feed from me, Healers are the safest dish on the menu.” Arrianna held out her hand.

    She didn’t know Arrianna well, but she seemed to know what she was talking about. Taking her hand, the soothing warmth of her energy travelled up her arm into her chest. Fearing she’d take too much, Kayn quickly let go, saying, “Thank you.” Metaphorical demons exorcized, she began sorting through options in the bag, opting for yoga pants and a t-shirt. It was going to be a stretch. Prying wideset hips into tiny pants giggling, she squeezed into an obscenely tight top next. Raking fingers through her curly damp mane, Kayn announced, “I can’t believe I got into your pants.” Music was playing in the other room. Arrianna laughed as they walked out. The party started while they were in the bathroom. There was a mountain of snacks from the vending machine on the counter. Zach was dancing with Mel, drinking from the minibar. Shimmying over, her Handler gave her a mini vodka. “You did it! You opened it!” Kayn praised, giggling.

    Towing Arrianna to the fridge, Zach tempted, “Pick your poison.”

    Shaking her head, taking in the crammed minifridge and overflowing mountain of snacks on the counter, Arrianna toyed, “Which one of you stole liquor out of all of the fridges in the empty rooms and used telekinesis to steal everything from the vending machines?”

    “They were all in there?” Zach fibbed, grinning. “Are you telling Daddy or joining us?”

    Giggling, Arrianna swatted Zach, scolding, “You jerk that’s going to be stuck in my head.”

    Rattling boxes of junior mints like maracas, Mel chanted, “Join us, join us.”

    Cracking a whisky, Arrianna drank it, strode over to the adjoining door, and loudly pounded on it, yelling, “Join us!”

    Opening the door bare-chested with a shit-eating grin and crinkled happy eyes, Grey flirted, “Hello trouble.” Lured into their web of fun, he pissed himself laughing as he saw their mountain of stolen snacks. “This is a lecture waiting to happen.”

    “Look in the minifridge,” Arrianna dared, grinning.

    Following Grey into the room, Orin playfully shoved Arrianna, taunting, “I hope there’s a Snickers in that pile. I recall Markus saying something about behaving ourselves.”

    Digging in the snacks, Grey pestered, “No, it was, stay upstairs and don’t let Brighton eat anybody. I’ll save him one just in case.” Putting it in a drawer, he found another, wound up and called out, “Heads up, Brighton!”

    Turning as the Snickers sailed at her, Kayn caught it, and declared, “I’m eating you first.” Chasing her sister’s Handler out of the suite, Grey raced down the hall, cackling. Ducking behind a housekeeping trolly, he rifled toilet paper rolls at her as Kayn superhero blocked each one with a wave of her arm. The elevator opened. They turned to see who it was.

    Walking out, Killian saw the mess, warning, “Markus is going to lose his shit.”

    They chased Big Sexy rifling rolls as he ran for the room, laughing, “Stop! I surrender!”

    Gathering armloads of toilet paper ammo, they busted into the room, pitched rolls at everyone and left the mess to do shots.

    Looking out into the hall, Arrianna sighed, “Seriously?” She went to go pick them up.

    Flinging her over his shoulder, Killian strode across the room and tossed her on the bed. As Arrianna bounced, Big Sexy pointed, comically reprimanding, “These assholes feed on our Siren. Nobody is cleaning up shit.”

    Now, she knew where Frost was. She didn’t need that visual.

    “Here,” Zach said, passing her a whisky.

    She drank it, shaking her head. Three vodkas, a whisky, and a, your boyfriend is having sexy Lampir feeding time reveal. It must be Christmas.

    Putting an arm around her, Mel gave her a tiny bottle of tequila, whispering, “How are you doing?”

    Downing it, Kayn teased, “Drinking vodka, whisky and tequila in the same night is the trifecta of stupidity, but I’m having fun.” Thorne shot an arrow through Mel’s heart. She hadn’t even given her a chance to vent. Feeling horrible, she hugged Mel tightly, whispering, “Want me to kill Thorne?”

    “Yes, make it hurt,” Mel sniffled, giggling.

    Swaying to the music embracing, Mel’s chest shuddered. Kayn offered, “Let’s order pizza and get you a Snickers.”

    Joining in their group hug dance, the trio swayed as Zach whispered, “I ordered pizza half an hour ago.”

    Giggling, Mel whispered back, “You’re awesome, Zach.”

    “I have my moments,” Zach chuckled, wildly rocking the trio back and forth as a fast song came on.

    Tears ended, pizza came, and pointless talk of romantic entanglements ended as the endearing troop of joy junkies revelled in their unbreakable bond. When the rest of Ankh showed up, they were three sheets to the wind, leaping on the bed dancing and singing along to the music. The allure of mindless shenanigans was no match for the pull Kayn felt as Frost walked in. He’d changed his clothes. Far too tipsy to be coy, she ceased jumping. He grinned, sauntering over in a black fitted shirt and jeans. Heaven help her. The motion of everyone still leaping made her topple backwards. She fell between the bed and wall with a thud. Mortified, she decided to stay there.

    Mischievously peering over the side of the bed, Grey baited, “Markus is shutting this down, if you stay there for a minute, we’ll all be gone but I’d just own it.”

    Guru Grey was right. She got up and curtsied. The room of immortals cracked up.

    Everyone’s eyes turned to the door as Markus declared, “Who was the asshole that threw toilet paper everywhere?” They all raised their hands. Amused by their solidarity, he shut the party down, “My room is beneath this one, I need sleep.”

    Turning the tunes off, Zach pressed a finger against his lips, drunkenly motioning, “Shhh.”

    Giggles silenced as Emery rushed in, calling out, “Jenna!” Their eyes met in a movie worthy moment.

    “Emery?” Jenna gasped, “How are you here?”

    It always felt like a psychic shouldn’t be able to be surprised.

    Overcome by joy, they raced into each other’s arms and seductively kissed. Everyone’s jaws dropped. Fascinated as they left together, Orin just stood there.

    With a supportive pat, Grey put his arm around Orin, saying, ‘Digest it. Let’s go, buddy. Time to move on.”

    Shrugging as they went into the adjoining room, Orin asked, “Where’s Lexy?”

    “Don’t get him started,” Markus scolded, pitching a toilet paper roll at him.  

    Sauntering over to Markus, Arrianna gave him a Snickers, toying, “Don’t be grumpy.”

    Laughing, their leader hugged her, teasing, “It looks like you had fun.”

    “I did,” Arrianna stated, strutting away, summoning him to follow with a finger.

    As witnesses left, their eyes met. Placing a hand on the wall behind her, Frost whispered, “Hi.”

    “Hi,” Kayn whispered as every hair prickled in response to his pheromones.

    Pressing his body against hers, he whispered his breathy intentions, “I want to take you to bed and kiss every inch of you.”

    Caressing his dark hair, gazing into his seductive eyes, she leapt from a plane with no parachute, “Let’s go.”

    They straight face walked past the Clan lingering in the hall. He swiped his card. As the light turned green, Kayn flashed back to a night in Vegas, when her attempt to sneak up to his room was foiled by their Clan’s Oracle. He tugged her in and slammed the door as she laughed.

    Flirtatiously walking her backwards to the bed, Frost chuckled, “I wanted you so bad when I saw you standing there in nothing but that parka. After I’m done making you scream, you’ll have to tell me what happened.” She lifted her arms over her head as he tugged her shirt off and tossed it with a cheeky grin.

    Siren were creatures with volatile sensual energy hidden beneath the surface, ready to release incapacitating pheromones, able to change the rules of anyone’s game. Neither was capable of G-rated behaviour, once their fuses were lit. The self-destructive Dragon in her yearned for the reckless way he made her feel like air to breathe.

READ THE REST  

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[jeanjauthor]

Gonna post the pics here and explain which ones I’d knock outta the running.  My reasons are ONLY my own opinion, and I admit in advance that others have their right to their own opinions as well, and that whatever I say about what I like & dislike, all of these categories are still valid for those who actually do like them...even if some of them I am just utterly sick of by now, or have what I think are genuine reasons to want those categories gone.

Anyway, caveats over, on with the fun...which I will put behind a cut to save everyone’s dashboards!

Trapped Together. Only One Bed. Marriage Of Convenience. Fake Relationship.

...Of course they start this off with the hardest one to choose to get rid of, because I love all of these.  I think, however...that “Only One Bed” and “Trapped Together” are pretty darn close.  Marriage of Convenience is not the same thing as Fake Relationship--it’s an actual relationship with an actual committment at some level on both sides--so those both have to stay.

Only One Bed, that one presumes they actually like each other at least enough to travel together, so that’s a bonus, but Trapped Together doesn’t guarantee even a smidge of that; they’re forced together...

Damn this is hard.  I really like the “oh no, only one bed, and we’ll have to share it!” trope...but Trapped Together could include that...plus it has more plot possibilities.

So I’m going to vote out Only One Bed, even though it goes against my plotline principles normally.

The next one is this:

Tortured/Scarred.  Cinnamon Roll. Alpha.  Playboy/Rake.

Tortured/Scarred needs more love, because there are a lot of people in the world who are indeed tormented & injured / unlovely / disabled.  I do wish the disability aspect would stop being used as inspiration pr0n but people are getting better about that, at least.

Cinnamon Roll is a keeper, too.  Truly good, or rather, Good™, characters need to be celebrated, protected, and promoted as an ideal role model...provided there’s someone in their lie who can and does keep an eye out (cynical eye) for Bad Things And Bad People™, because perpetual innocence is ridiculously unreal...but it’s 100% valid to have a hopeful heart and a kind nature.

As for Alpha and Playboy/Rake...I’m sick of both.  And it’s difficult as to which one to toss out, because they both have their downsides.  “Alpha Males” tend to be bullies and abusers and manipulative self-centered assholes. I’ve read far too many of those stories where they literally kidnap women and refuse to return them to their homes / families / homeworlds (scifi or fantasy), etc.  But on the other hand, Playboys & Rakes perpetuate the “rich = right” and “money means you can grab them by the p***y, they just let you do it” mentality.

Right now, I am far too angry at T & Co, and the oligarchs keeping them in power.  And I am also reminded that Nalini Singh (we have the same editor, squee!) has a FANTASTIC universe, the psy-changeling universe, where Alphas are actually kind, caring, loving, protective, and NOT bullies toward their own people, including their own mates.  (Usually, but the few that were a bit bullying learned better!)

So I’m going to ditch the Playboy/Rake mindset, because we need to stop thinking the rich can get away with anything.  I mean, have you SEEN 2020??

*ahem*  Next...

Turgid. Moist. Thrust. Plunge.

Part of me really dislikes moist (though not Moist, the character from Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog) as a word...but on the other hand, lubrication is always a good thing to have.  Turgid is a bit old-fashioned, but at the same time it is an accurate word.  Thrust is a bit, well, stabby.  Plunge makes me think of swimming pools, not lovemaking.  (Or possibly stopped up toilets, ugh.)

Mkay, this is another difficult one, but...I think...rrrgh, had to change my mind. I think I’ll do away with moist, so long as “lubrication = a very good thing” is still implied somewhere in the descriptions for lovemaking.

Next!

Instalove.  Roommates. Friends With Benefits. Just A Fling.

I’m not fond of Just A Fling, since it implies a lack of emotional & at least some mental intimacy.  But Instalove also does the same, and it’s trying to tell readers that infatuation = abiding love...when that often isn’t the case.

I’ve lived long enough to learn that infatuation is great, but rarely turns into an abiding love, because we rarely teach how to turn infatuation into an abiding, long-lasting love.

For these reasons, I love Roommates and Friends With Benefits, because you already know (or are getting to know) each other’s bad habits and other potentially annoying quirks...and yet you fall in love anyway, while knowing those things.  That sort of journey has a lot more of the patience, understanding, and willingness to compromise on all sides that makes long-term love a genuine thing.

Just A Fling implies they know each other a bit more, or can get to know each other a bit more as they fall for each other.  And yes, Instalove IS a thing, I’m not deying that...but you have to make the follow-up efforts to turn it into lasting love.  I think it has more of an incentive to make those efforts than Just A Fling does...and it’s possible for Just A Fling to fit under Instalove (though it’ll be a bit of a squeeze) so I’m ditching Just A Fling.

On to the next quartet:

Enemies To Lovers. Forbidden Love. Unrequited Love. Second Chance.

A couple toughies in this one.  Forbidden love...we still don’t have marriage & relationship equality, so that one’s staying right where it is, as it’s an analogy of how love should triumph over bigotry.

I’m more torn on the other three.  Second Chance...sometimes there are good reasons to not give someone a second chance.  Abusers can be very charming, and make all sorts of sweet-talking promises.  Sometimes, however, two people are just in the wrong stage of life to make a go of it.

Unrequited Love runs the risk of crossing over into the ‘tragically friendzoned’ bullshit which is only viewing the narrative from that one person’s perspective.  This is not to say that unrequited love is only ‘friendzoned through rose-colored glasses’, which it isn’t, but it is potentially problematic, unless it’s just another take on Friends To Lovers.

Enemies To Lovers has a lot of potential, but it needs to be realistic potential.  Not just a “Hey, let’s pit the Hulk versus Thor, get ‘em mad at each other for no other reason than action sequences & giggles!” sort of plotless nonsense, but a genuine “these two have more in common than they ever realized, AND their antipathy hasn’t crossed into unforgivable awfulness toward each other territory.”

I think that Second Chance is going to have to be set aside.  It was either that or Unrequited Love, but while Friends To Lovers can cover Unrequited Love...I really, reallydon’t want to send the message that “it’s okay to reunite with your abusive ex.”  ...See?  I can’t even write it without striking that “okay” out.  It’s NOT okay.  It never will be.

Secret Relationship. Secret Billionaire. Secret Baby. Secret Royal.

I’m fine with Secret Relationships...unless it’s cheating/adultery, in which case oh hell no. (Remember, I am polyamory-friendly, but polyamory ≠ cheating!!)  But otherwise it’s fine.

Secret Baby sets my teeth on edge a little, because one should know about babies. The body bearing it has the right to choose to continue bearing it or withdraw consent, because we SHOULD have more rights to bodily autonomy than goddamn corpses, but mostly it’s a case of there’d better be A Damn GOOD Reason™ for hiding this child, robbing them of a presumably loving parent’s love for X period of time.

I’m very much anti-oligarchy, but to be honest, I’m much more inclined to believe a secret billionaire has run away to live a normal life (such as the child of a manipulative asshole running away from association with all that) than I am to believe in Secret Royalty anymore.  It’s just...it’s overdone.  it’s like HOW MANY DUKES EXISTED in the Regency era??  It’s lost its believability potential that’s all.  So out with the Secret Royal (for now)!

Mistaken Identity. Amnesia. In Disguise. In Peril.

Amnesia. Kicking that one out the door right away.  It’s overdone, it doesn’t work the way it’s most often displayed, and I just know too much about the actual medical condition to enjoy it.

Mind you, pretending to have Amnesia is fine! That’s “In Disguise” right then & there, lol...but no, the other three tropes are far better than that old rag.  *tosses it away!*

Duke. Cowboy. Tycoon. Athlete.

...You’d think that from my rant above regarding Secret Royals, I’d kick out Duke as a category. I won’t.  I just want to see Dukes (and other nobility titles) in other eras than just Regency and/or modern.  So overdone in those eras, but not in others.

Athletes...I’m not into sports.  I’m not a sporty-sport type.  I don’t read those books so I don’t know how overdone the tropes are, though I’ve only noticed them coming into prominence in fanficdom in the last ten to fifteen years, with the HP fandom being big on quidditch-based fanfic stories.

Now, Cowboys are a bit overglamorized, but...they’re working class types, and if you get some actual honest work-on-the-farm or work-on-the-ranch scenes in there, and it’s believable? That’s still okay.

Tycoons are overused, too...but unlike Billionaires, you can be a Tycoon in a lot of different ways.  Sometimes via money, sometimes via some sort of monopoly--like the company that owns the company store, town, people, etc.  Still...being a tycoon means you (or your family) has done something to monopolize money, business, property, etc...and I despise the oligarchy.  So since most tycoon stories don’t talk about paying employees above a livable wage, or constantly improving the living conditions in the company-owned town, etc...fuq ‘em.  *punts them outta town, covered in tar & feathers*

(I never said I’d be consistent, just that these are my opinions per category group.  I’m evaluating every quartet solely against its fellow members, even if I reference other groups or categories.)

Flick. Pierce. Spear. Breach.

...Unless these are in reference to combat, only Flick should remain, because the others all make me think of combat more than lovemaking.  However...that being said, we’re only supposed to discard just the one, so I think I’ll get rid of Breach.

Why Breach?  The bullshit misogyny of virginity culture, and the absolute anatomical awfulness of writers who don’t know where the goddamn hymen is.

...i could go into a very long rant about where the hymen is, what it’s shaped like, why it doesn’t have to be torn and spurt oodles of visible blood when you’re making love for the first time, blah blah blah--and why if you do get that happening, you 1. haven’t taken care of your partner’s needs AT ALL, and 2. clearly have never heard of lubrication, and 3. ARE SEVERELY INJURING YOUR PARTNER, wtf is sexy about THAT??--but I’ll digress and simply say that virginity is utter bullshit, patriarchal and misogynistic BULLSHIT, and it needs to go away!

Kthxbai!

Blackmail. Revenge. Bully. Kidnapped.

...Can we do away with all of these?

...No?

...Just get rid of one only?

...Dammit.

Ummm...if these are -between- the love interests, blackmail has to have a really good plot reason behind it, but there are a few conceivable ones.  Revenge, too.  Gotta have a good reason behind it.

Bullying is not something I care for at all, got that too much as a kid, and that shit HURTS.  It takes a lot to forgive a bully all the horrible things they did, and if it’s a case of “they’re only bullying you because they love you and this is how they show it” that shit is NASTIER, because it’s the “you should put up with being abused because it’s how he shows he loves you.”  OH HELL NO.

Kidnapped...nope.  That’s the Bad version of Alpha bullshit I don’t like either.  Though as with Blackmail, there has to be a solid reason AND there has to be some atonement for the kidnapping, PLUS TIME AWAY FROM EACH OTHER, and time spent getting to know each other in a non-Stockholm Syndrome non-Lima Syndrome sort of way...

I think we’ll get rid of Bullying, even though part of me really wants to ditch Kidnapping...if only because of the message listed above is NOT the message that should be absorbed by anyone.

Pirates. Medieval. Highlander. Regency.

Medieval and Highlander both still have a BROAD range of eras they can choose from, literal hundreds of centuries, plus Medieval can mean much more than just the British Isles for its setting...and you could have a Highlander traveling to Hungary or Italy or wherever.

Regency on the one hand is overdone and has been overdone quite a lot.  I’d love to see something else, BUT at the same time I acknowledge it’s a much-beloved juggernaut.  Just...tone down the numbers of Dukes and Earls for the love of population distribution statistics, and I’ll be much happier!

Pirates...are kinda fun on the one hand...but also an over-glamorization of horrible people doing horrible things for a living, on the other.  I’d only keep Pirates as a category if you PROMISED to do some non-European pirates...and since that’s not likely to happen... *flicks the Pirates off their own plank*

(I hate having to do that as I’m a proud Birate, but it’s not quite the same thing, so...oh well!)

Dragons. Wolves. Vampires. Bears.

*kicks Vampires off the plank as well*

Wolves are almost overdone as a trope, but vampires jumped the shark tank long ago, so I’m sure they’ll be fine after walking the plank, right?

There still aren’t enough Dragon stories, Wolves may be a little overdone with the ABO stuff, but there are so many other possibilities that could be explored, and Bears are an excellent example of exploring other shapeshifter types.  (No Dragons in Nalini Singh’s psy-changeling books, but there ARE changeling wolves and changeling bears, and remember, they have awesome Alphas who are actually NOT douchebags!)

Needs more Changecats or Werecats or whatever, but that’s just me.

Sexy Space. Sexy Time Travel. Sexy Apocalypse. Sexy Fantasy.

Ditch the Sexy Apocalypse.  There’s no such thing.  It’s an oxymoron.  An apocalypse is the opposite of sexy, because everything is being destroyed.

There’s plenty of Sexy Fantasy, but there’s always room for more.  There’s almost as much Sexy Time Travel, and plenty of eras & places left to be explored. And there is not enough Sexy Space stories. (Tho’ I’m working on that!)

But ditch the Apocalypse stuff. It’s just not sexy at all.

Royal & Lionheart. Beauty & Beast. Celebrity & Bodyguard. Warrior & Bard.

Not enough Warrior & Bard stories, definitely keeping that one!

Beauty & Beast is a bit overdone, but it sends a good message about how external beauty standards and external beauty tropes are overrated.

However...I’ll confess I’m not familar with Royal & Lionheart.  If it means royalty and the strong right arm that defends them, the head of the armies falling in love with the head of state...then I’m fine with that, not enough of that. (Seriously, this is the first time I’ve heard of this one.)

So I guess we’ll ditch Celebrity & Bodyguard...because that’s 1. an unequal balance of power between employer and employee, and 2. falling for the person you’re trying to protect means your thoughts are not going to stay on the job nearly enough of the time.  That could put your client in serious danger...and that’s a trope I don’t want to encourage as “emulation-worthy.”

Slow Burn. Angst. Fluff. Mutual Pining.

Slow Burn can be frustrating if not done right...but I love Fluff, and Mutual Pining has some serious Comedy of Errors potential.  Seriously, who doesn’t love a good comedy? (So long as there’s a good resolution, of course.)

I’ve had too rough a year, however, to want Angst around right now.  It can come back later, but...sorry, Angst, there’s the door.  *gently shows Angst to the door*  Come back in half a year, mkay?

...

That’s the last of the trope groupings!  Feel free to play with this one yourselves.

[cosmicgamerboy]

11 Questions Tag

Rules:

Tagged by @blackkismet

Post the the rules Answer the questions given to you by the tagger Write 11 questions of your own Tag 11 people

1. What’s your favorite book/comic?

I wish I had one, but I don’t really read like I used to. I have some books filled with outer space facts that I like?

2. Quick give me (and everyone else) a music recommendation!

Umm, I like this playlist? I don’t have a very cohesive taste in music...

3. What’s your favorite makeup and or shower/grooming product?

I just use whatever works and is available and affordable. I usually use Pantene conditioner and it’s worked pretty well for my thick, curly hair. 

4. How would you describe your blog?

Aesthetic, depression, Latinx, gay stuff, and an assortment of fandoms. It’s a place for me to explore my identity. Why y’all follow me I’m not sure, but I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay. :)

5. Favorite TV character?

I could never choose! I usually can’t even pick a favorite character from one show. 

6. Are you more fantasy or scifi?

Probably sci-fi, but fantasy is pretty damn awesome too. I also love when the two genres mix. 

7. How do you ask for advice?

I don’t, but I probably should. 

8. What do you think is important to know in general, for life?

Find something that makes you happy, and try to do it every day. Find a place for yourself and spend time there. It’s okay to give yourself space to breathe. 

9. Favorite color?

I love everything on the red spectrum, like pink, red, maroon, etc. I also like the blues, purples, and black. I like a lot of colors. 

10. What kind of climate do you like?

I really enjoy the climate by the ocean. Cool, sometimes cloudy and foggy, but still can be sunny and beautiful. I live in California and I love the beach. 

11. Favorite name?

There are so many good ones. I’ve always liked the name Lupe.

I tag whoever is bored and wants to answer some questions.

My questions:

1. What is your favorite place to relax?

2. Tell us about a toy you had during your childhood.

3. If you could live in any fictional world you wanted, which would you choose? 

4. How would you design your dream bedroom?

5. Name an ice cream flavor that you dislike.

6. What’s something you wish you knew when you were younger?

7. What simple pleasure in life do you think more people should be thankful for?

8. Talk about a character that always makes you happy.

9. What article of clothing would you love to own?

10. Who has been a positive force in your life?

[sometimesrosy]

i think i've oversaturated myself with bellarke content over the hiatus to the point where i care less about them. i wish i could watch t100 for the first time again. their relationship honestly made me so happy (still does sometimes, like trailer release day). during my rewatch I'm actually shipping br.aven more than bellarke which is super weird for me bc i've never noticed their chemistry before. i'm only on 1x10 so maybe my perspective will change and become more bellarkey again

I totally get what you’re saying. I was feeling the oversaturation thing, too. It’s also too much of the fandom closed perspective sort of thing…  whether pro or anti, we’ve got this laser focus on shipping. I’ve been reading less fan fiction, writing less fan fiction, writing less meta, reading less meta. I’m still doing it, don’t get me wrong, just pulled back. 

I’ve gotten more involved in other shows, like The Walking Dead (although now I have a hiatus for THAT too, why do they do this to us?) or Flash and Supergirl and Arrow (hiatus!) More importantly, I’ve gotten involved in other projects having nothing to do with tv, like my original writing, journaling, art, my kids’ projects, Christmas, my home, other long term projects, freelancing, other media that I am trying to keep out of fandom. I’m still here too much, but I’m letting some air into the bellarke bubble.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love it, but it is not taking over anymore.

And I really enjoy the rewatch I’m doing, even if it’s just once a week, because it both allows that air, and it lets me watch the show again for all those things outside of shipping. And there’s a whole lot! Yes, there is a lot of Bellarke development and some episodes actually focus on it, but there’s so much else going on and it’s that other stuff that made me love the show in the first place. I’m not actually a huge shipper, even if Bellarke grabbed my fancy and pulled me in. I’m a scifi fan (and when I ship, it’s usually the relationships that the show is developing as canon. I don’t really do crackships.) I personally love Bellamy and Raven as a brotp. They do have chemistry, but it does’t feel romantic to me. This is the m/f platonic relationship I see that people have accused Bellarkers of not being able to accept simply because there’s a hot girl and guy involved. But you know, that’s shipwar stuff. You can ship b/raven if you want and it doesn’t bother me at all. I love them both. 

I’m up to 3.08 this week in my rewatch, and it DEFINITELY gets more Bellarkey. I think that they really were platonic in season 1, even if they both expressed physical attraction to each other. Their platonic relationship was too important at that point to let the less important physical attraction get in the way. But their emotional connection grows and grows in season 2 that by the time they keep reuniting in season 3, whatever it is between them is so outsized that it no longer fits into the platonic category, and it doesn’t fit the relationship they had anymore, and they don’t know what they mean to each other, and yet they want so much from the other, that it is down right painful for the both of them. The physical attraction has also been repressed. 

I think season 4 is going to bring the physical attraction to the fore, because you can’t repress it when it’s been growing like that, all those feelings. The physical attraction may be the trigger. It’s like chekhov’s gun. They set it in place in 1.07 and 1.08, with clear mutual attraction. And then they dropped it. But it’s still there, and it’s a tool that has to be used for the integrity of the story. 

Okay. This whole thing is making me bellarkey again. It’s not that they aren’t pretty (duh they’re gorgeous,) or that I don’t want them to smoosh faces (I do, #teamfuckingkissalready,) or that I’m not inserting myself into the story (I am, I take turns on who I relate to more,) but it is the narrative path of the way they are telling this love story that has really got me fired up. And the way they are growing a love between these two characters within the context of their lives. We get to watch it! We get to fall in love with them! Not because they are telling us that two characters are in love, but because we can see how much they care for each other and all the facets of love that they express as it grows.

This is remarkable! This really, planned out (it absolutely is) slow burn love story that takes place as the world is ending again and again. I LOVE that it isn’t the main focus of the show. I really prefer science fiction, fantasy, adventure, mystery stories over love stories, although I love having love stories within my action genre stuff. I’m going to keep throwing Pride and Prejudice connections at you all, because I keep seeing them and it’s so damn sneaky and clever that this swooningly romantic story just keeps getting silently slipped in between all the dramatic action.

Well, I’m back to Bellarke feels. 

[ecotone99]

[SF] In To The Blue (My next decade)

In To The Blue #scifi In To The Blue

By Antti Luode

So 2020 rolled around. I was beat down and broke. Getting old double time, no triple time. Losing my mind on a rocket speed. But that was alright because I was making music. That no one was listening to. But hey. A tune is a tune.

The beginning of twenties I spent lying in my bed. Taking medications that made me forget about the world outside, watching movies when I was not sleeping. Officially a mentally disabled person with nothing to look forward to.

Until that fateful day.

Lets just call it delivarance. Oh crap, that is not how it is written. Deliverence? No, it is not that either, damn spell correction, well, lets try it one more time. Deliverance? Bingo, we have a winner.

Anyhow, back to the source of my deliverance.

Deliverance btw if you did not google it means, "The act of being rescued or set free.".

Well, Jesus Christ did not step down from the heaven even though I had been going to church a bit and praying for that final meal ticket at the end of my miserable life. It was not that.

It was.

Drugs.

Yes.

A miracle drug set me free in the first part of 2020.

The only catch was. It had side effects.

You know how it goes in life. No stroke of luck comes without equal stroke of bad luck. I know, enough with the stroking. Even though..

Ahh.. My mind sometimes, it just leads me to bad places. To baaad places.

But, enough with that. Lets go back to my delivarance.. Crap. I misspelled it again.

Yes. There was a drug that magically cured my epilepsy and my bi polar disease. No more feeling like I was going to be electrocuted to death from inside. Ripped up like the poor bastards on board Nostromo in the movie Alien.. Like the poor victims on the other side of that door in that movie with Jack Nicholson.. Oh waith, they did not die right?

Yes. My mind is rambling.

Ahh.. Yes. There was a cure.

Indeed. But the catch.

It turned me to a woman.

No, I am just kidding with you.

It did not do that.

It turned me to a sheep?

Naaah..

It gave me..

Superpowers?

Yes. That was it. The pill in question had been developed by Elon Musk and was supposedly able to heal any mental disease as he promised. And yes. I rushed to USA when I first heard about it.

Sold all my possessions and left. Just like that. To have that magical pill.

And boy did I get it.

That fateful day at the Neuralink laboratories in California.

NEURALINK LOS ANGELES MAY 2020

I was dead tired from travelling to Los Angeles. With the flight included and the previous day that I could not sleep I had been up some 48 hours. Honestly I was seeing little green men walking on the street where I knew there were none. But the good thing was that I was not lonely.

The green men all were walking to the same direction as I was. The Neuralink industries main building where I had been graciously allowed to pass to.

It was not a ordinary day. It was end of the worst decade in my life. It had started with me being in the best shape of my life at 35 and it had ended up with me being both mentally and physically disabled by my epilepsy.

Yes, my back was broken, my mind was in shambles and I was pretty much Gods joke. Just a loser with nothing to look forward to in the future. So little wonder the promises of Elon Musk of a pill that will "Heal all mental disease including epilepsy". Had made me.. Lets just put it this way. Hopeful.

I knew I was dying, one way or another. Either by the horse pills (referring to their size and and multiplicity) or by the disease. I knew I was not going to make it far in to the 2020´es without a cure.

But here we had a promise of a future.

Sure the price had been a little bit steep. 200 000 thousand dollars for one pill that was not to be digested but instead it was to be sewn inside my skull along with a device that was going to change the way my brain would function.

Each time I was going to get a seizure, it would alter my brain activity and instead of seizure. Something else was to happen.

I walked in.

OPERATION

I was not scared by a brain surgery.

I was dead man walking anyway.

When I went under. I wished for death or cure.

When I came out under the smiling faces of surgeons. I knew something was different.

There was this. .

Surge in happiness.

That was the only way I could describe it.

I had been miserable for most of my life due to my bi polar 2. Which I had been happily unaware of before.

But now. I just could not stop cracking jokes.

My first words to the surgeon were.

"Did you choose the color of your hair cover, blue? Really? Did you feel you have to conform with others? You could not do anything more adventurous?" , he winked back at me and said. "Look who is talking, you half human, half machine."

Cyborg. Yes. I was.

I was, I was. I know I repeated the word twice. But..

I was lying there. The surgeons walked away and in truth.

I had a cybernetic implant.

See. I was in a test program.

This was not much talked about. But I had tweeted something to Elon Musk about wanting to be a test subject. And one night, I got a email from Elon Musk saying that he wants me to pay for the procedure, but if I was willing. I could be one of the test subjects.

And now it was done.

"How do you feel?", someone asked me from the back of the room.

I turned my head to see and saw.

The grinning face of Elon Musk.

"Pretty ok.", I said.

"We are boosting the funny part of your mind right now.", Elon said.

"Sorely needed.", I said and grinned back.

I had been the most miserable person on Earth for most of my life. So yes. I needed funny.

"I did not die.", I said.

"Yes, or heaven was not what it was cracked up to be.", Elon said back.

"Ahh. Cracked. There really needs to be a joke about cracked heaven, but I for one can not think of one right now.", I said and closed my eyes.

"Heaven of Crack addicts.", I said watching in to the darkness behind my eye lids.

"What would that be like?", Elon asked.

"Well, there probably would not be as much blowjobs for strangers as there are in real life.", I said and opened my eyes, looking back at Elon grimacing at my bad joke.

"Did I go too far?", I said.

"Man..", Elon said.

Two weeks later I walked out. Tiny box in my belt constantly monitoring my brain activity and sending results back to Neuralink headquarters.

NEW JOB

So what is a newly divorced cyborg to do in Los Angeles.

Well, I did not do what you think I would do in that position for starters.

Instead since I was allowed to have a visa on medical grounds. I had to get a job.

I did not become a famous musician if that is what you expected of me.

No, instead I got a job at a greasy spoon washing dishes.

Yes. That was about the best I could find. Now my back was keeping me from standing all the time. So I had to get a special chair made. So I sat in that chair 10 hours a day, washing dishes.

And no, I was no longer epileptic. There had been a shift in my thoughts. My mind was tuned to the frequency of jokes. I could not stop joking. I was a funny man. Which was weird, because in my previous life I had been the most miserable sack of excrement you have ever know. Not that you dear reader (my mom?) would have known me. Well, for the exception of my mom of course.

So I was washing dishes in a greasy spoon and telling jokes for everyone who wanted (most did not) to hear. I was telling jokes like it was going out of.. Hmm. How should I put this? Well you know clothes have to conform to certain styles. What is that called? Starts with H? B? No.. F!

Yes, you know. My mind was full of holes from the lost decade and I could not stop telling jokes, nor washing dishes. Because if I had stopped, I would starve to death since on my greencard I was not allowed to have any other kind of social assistance than standing in a bread line with the rest of the poor people of Los Angeles.

HOME

So I got my self a place. It was a tiny room with this disabled woman who could barely breath and was hooked up to a oxygen bottle at all times. But she was a funny disabled woman. She did not expect much from life. If I brought home bacon fries with a double bacon swiss cheese hamburger, she was happy.

I was happy too. I was not thinking of my old life in Finland much. I was not getting daily seizures and I was able to leave my horse pills behind. I was exercising a little bit. Old, but not dying actively as I had been in my earlier life. There was a promise of future.

I was flirting a little bit with the idea of marrying the old woman. Making a honest woman out of her, not that she was honest. She was lying though her teeth at all times. But at least I could trust she would not tell the truth.

Which was good with me.

So we were living in this God forsaken place in the middle of Watts. Police sirens and gunshots were our background noise and in the darkness, the sub bass blaring gangsters made me feel right at home.

I was becoming another person.

I guess you could say I discovered my inner black person. Which was weird because I had been white my whole life. Reading the news and thinking about politics. I could not give a rats ass anymore about those things.

I was thinking about.

Rap music.

I had never felt rap music that much.

But here I was as 2020 was coming to a close. A white man with cybernetic implant, trying to come up with rhymes for a rap song.

I did not even realize I was doing that.

I guess it happened organically, washing dishes at this grease spoon, ten hours a day. Listening to rap.

I began to "Get it.",

It was not what I thought it was about.

It was not about the girls and guns and the alpha male bullshit I thought it had been about.

It was about the life in Ghetto.

Now I was part of the ghetto.

Sure the ghetto people were laughing at me every day, pointing at me and saying things like.

"Shiiit.. Here comes the terminator.", since the secret had got out.

But you know what?

I was not dying and I kind a belonged there.

2021

The first time I installed the music software back on my computer I knew what I was going to do.

I was not going to rap. It was one of the young kids outside who was going to rap. I was going to produce. My job at the greasy spoon had left me a little bit of money to rent this crappy one room office where I had set up a studio.

There, in that studio. I was sitting, feeling my skull with my right hand, thinking about my ex wife. Waiting for the kid to come in.

When I say kid. I mean kid, this kid was 15, I heard him rapping on the bus every day. Singing songs of his peoples. Rapping like a machine gun. Wearing a bandana, dangerous, full of life.

And i was going to produce this mother copula tor.

Why did he choose me?

Because I had written a instrumental piece that worked.

I do not know how I did that. But lets just say that I needed my cybernetic implant to do it.

Without it I would have been dying in my house back home in Finland eating the horse pills with no future. Thinking about dying every single day until I finally would have, one way or another.

Now. I was going to produce this fireball in Watts, Los Angeles.

The kid walked in.

I set up the recording.

He did his thing.

I uploaded it on soundcloud, advertised the poop out of it.

And 5 million plays later the record company was on the phone.

I had a contract with the kid.

We signed.

FIRST MILLION DOLLARS

Million dollars later.

I upgraded the house. We moved with the old lady to a house in the suburbs. I also upgraded the studio into a slightly larger one at a slightly better part of town.

Our life changed. There was articles about me and the kid. I wrote more instrumentals that actually evoked interest, unlike the pieces I had written when I was sick.

I kept on writing instrumental pieces. I kept on getting into contact with more and more people who wanted to make music with me.

There were a lot of reflections on my luck.

"How could this be.", I found myself asking as I found myself being happy for the..

First time in my life? Nah.. First time since the first few years of my marriage..

I was also owner of the greasy spoon where I had earlier worked. The people who I worked for, now were friends for life. The bus driver of the bus line I used to use worked for me. Life was looking very different than it had on the first of January 2020.

I was going to church a lot. Praising God because I actually felt I had actually been blessed instead of cursed. I felt that maybe now God finally had forgiven me for what ever transgressions that had caused him to smite me with epilepsy and bi polar.

2021

Was nothing but going up. I was 47, living in Los Angles with Linda (the old woman with oxygen bottle) and I did not want sex.

All I wanted was to make music. Have friends, joke, and go to church.

My family visited me a few times. We went skiing on the mountains surrounding Los Angeles. I visited my grandmas cousin who had just turned 102 that had lived her whole life in LA.

I was thinking about how different my life would have been had my grandma moved there to back in early nineteen hundreds. But she did not.

I was still Finnish man inside.

But part black.

Yes. That was the weird part. I had been married to a girl from Georgia US for 16 years. But now I was identifying more with the black culture than the white. The booming bass of black music and drums no longer gave me seizures and the feeling I got in black churches was on par with nothing else.

I was high on life.

The first megahit I wrote with the the black kid now widely known as "Fireball", was "I do not want to die tonight.", its words were not about killing or banging. Its words were about not wanting to do as his father before.

To go to jail, to do drugs and die.

The kid had nothing against his father. But now that he was doing well, he could see that there was more to life than that. He genuinely wanted to help his friends back in Watts. And he worked 24 / 7 to do that.

Sure he had more sex and hip hop life style than I had. But he was still using a lot of my beats, I do not know why. But as I said, I think the only explanation could be was my cybernetic implant.

Speaking of which. I was on the Time magazine as the first human patient who had been so successful with the implant. Me and Elon had become friends at this point too. Unlike in my greasy spoon days. I guess my success had won Elon back at my side, after the bad joke about crack addict heaven.

So life was swell. 2021 ended and I turned 48

2022

There was no greater joy for me than to help my friends. I helped every one. As they had helped me. Giving became my profession. I traveled the world to areas that had been struck by catastrophes, me fireball and the rest of the people on my label enjoyed nothing more than to see the faces of people who would suddenly be yanked of their hell to a new life of promise.

Like I had been.

But there was this one little thing that was bothering me. I found myself to be drawn to certain things. Certain things that I had never identified with earlier. To certain business transactions. To certain people. One after another, I was doing things that I felt were not really me.

More and more people had been implanted with the neuralink device and a lot of us had had magical turn around in life. Things were going WELL for us. We were setting up Neuralink only member clubs. With our own golf courses and business empires.

Yes. We were becoming smart. Not just "The smartest kid on high school" smart. But Albert Einstein, Stephen Hawking smart.

I had barely got through the "long" mathematic class in high school back home and I knew I was not gifted. But having glanced at mathematics books again. I knew something had changed. I actually was able to ace all questions in my old mathematics books. Interested in this new capability I was venturing into harder and harder maths on my free time.

One evening on the June of 2021 I found myself performing calculations on quantum mechanics and as far as I knew. I was able to come up with a new theory for everything.

I went through my calculations once, twice, three times.

Then I thought about a cell phone number (Neuralink device allowed me to command devices with thought only) and was soon listening to the voice of Elon Musk.

"Look buddy, I am in middle of Tesla stockholder meeting.", Elon said to me, slightly frustrated.

"I think I just proved that universe is a quantum computer that is seeking for the morally best possible ending.", I uttered.

"I have to take a break.", I heard Elon say before he walked to quiet room and said again.

"Shoot.", he said to me.

We perfected the theory that year.

2022

Scientific American ran the story on the cover. "Universe is just a giant quantum calculator.", after that all the other publications ran the story too. Little wonder the Nobel prize of physics was awarded to me and Elon Musk that year.

The theory had vast influences on everything from religion to nuclear energy.

See. The theory laid down the foundations for grand unified theory which had been sought after for..

Since the start of written language.

The theory was not just about the nature of universe, put everything in the nature.

From the mathematical equations I had come up on that night of June. Everything could be derived.

It was like I had stumbled on the seed for the universe.

The founding principles on what God had created the universe on.

Turns out God was searching for the best possible result for every life in the multiverse.

Meaning that all the suffering in our lives is solved somehow. Every life somehow has this turning point after which things are good.

Everybody I knew, somehow would go through the same thing I had gone through. Every miserable alcoholic who I saw on the street, in fact died cured, happy with their family.

It was just that I was not there to see it. Just the same way as I was magically healed by the Neuralink, every other person would have that in their life. Everyone was the center of their own multiverse.

So, all the suffering that I saw. You saw. Was just there for me.

A test of sorts I guess.

What would be after I died. I did not know.

I was a scared by the power of this revelation.

I spent rest of 2022 going to church. I gave away all my money to Linda, the woman I had been living with and moved to Tibet.

2023

One thing that kept on bugging me was that I was drawn to certain things. Certain advertisements, thoughts. Etc.

I was assuming that Elon had added some kind of self interest to the Neuralink device. A natural draw to things that he felt were interesting.

I found myself drinking way more Coca Cola than I really liked. I was eating a lot in the golden arches, the closes thing to Mc Donalds in Tibet.

But here I was. A Christian man in Tibet. My intentions were good.

I wanted to ascend the natural hubris. The money. The fame. The trappings of ego.

So I moved a Buddhist monastery. The only thing that made sense after all.

Christian monasteries would have not wanted me. There was a movement that wanted to stamp all cybernetic people as heretics and I was not one to fight them.

I gave up mathematics. Thinking about foundations of universe and concentrated on watching clouds instead.

The clouds in Tibet were rare. Since Tibet is so high. Not that I got high. Although I occasionally did. There were certain potions that were needed in the ceremonies after all.

And so I watched at clouds. Mountains. People with long grooves in their faces. Like my own face in the mirror. Yes, I was growing old. My family would occasionally call. But for the most part of my stay in Tibet. I was alone.

Yes, every now and then people would come to me and say. "Are you so and so." and I would say. "Yes in my previous life. .", and so it went.

But quiet and clouds were moving to the center stage of my life.

I began painting. Clouds.

The paintings were not much to behold and this time, I did not become very successful, turns out that even the neuralink device would not be enough to turn a 48 year old man into a genius when it came to painting.

But people were still fighting over my paintings. Not that I knew it at first. But the paintings I painted in Tibet were fought over in some circles due to my notorious eccentricity.

"Painting of a cloud by the man who came up with grand unified theory of the universe.", turns out that would sell even if the painting itself was crappy.

I guess I knew how Einstein felt now.

But I was not that smart. The stroke of luck I had had with the GUT was only due to my childhood. I used to think about foundations of universe a lo as a child and the Neuralink device allowed me to do the mathematics needed to do the mathematics.

But without the device.

Yes. I turned the damn thing off sometimes.

I was back on pills on those times.

Feeling horrible.

Painting clouds. Thinking about my ex. Happily married by now. With second child on the way.

And here I was. In Tibet. Painting clouds.

It was one of those experimental times.

That I had another grand mal seizure.

Which broke my neck this time.

So. 2023 ended with the neuralink device back on and me being paralyzed from the neck down.

2024

"The man who turned his back on the gift.", was the headline on "Christian today."

Privately I was thinking about "How could this lead to the best possible moral outcome of the universe for me.", sitting in my wheelchair.

Now wheeled next to Linda. Breathing from her oxygen bottles. . A little glimmer in her eyes, now that I was back on her side.

Us two. Physically disabled people.

So we got married.

Linda was implanted with the Neuralink device too.

We began to live in our heads more and more.

Meanwhile the Neuralink device had got a lot better.

Now, we could escape our bodies to a kind of virtual reality.

The device. Was no longer a device. It was devices. Elon was kind enough to give us the new models that were able to project images senses and sound straight to our brains.

Allowing us to move around in robotic human avatars.

So we were wild and free.

Linda was enjoying not being disabled in a way for the first time since she got sick 30 years ago.

I was enjoying life instead of thinking about it too deeply. I knew that somehow my life would solve itself in a morally best possible solution. Somehow this was needed.

I got back into music business and for the most part, forgot about my real body.

Sometimes I would visit it in our big house. See the teams of nurses wheeling the shadow of me around, locked in a wheel chair. Looking like a dead man.

"Do not worry about that.", Elon would tell me.

"Well be able to upload our minds soon." He assured me, which I knew was real.

Every day the computers were getting more and more powerful and every day the meaning of my biological body was less and less important.

The weird thing was that if that was to happen. I guess I might not die other than in my physical body and if that was to happen. Then I was to live forever.

So how could that me go to heaven then? I wondered quietly at church pew sometimes.

But I still believed.

I had seen prophecies come true, so I did not doubt.

2025

I was watching myself through the eyes of my avatar, sitting inside a machine that was scanning my mind. Meanwhile the vast wealth that I had left for Linda was used to build a massive storage facility that was to store our minds.

I did not know it at the time, but in the future the facility was to be expanded to store minds of many others. These were dizzying times. We were not yet there, but immortality was at hand.

But the thought kept on bugging me. If the uploaded me was to live until the end of universe.

What about heaven?

I was actually getting back into making music. I had created many different avatars for myself. Some looking like historical characters.

My favorite was a avatar of old Frank Sinatra. I liked going to Vegas to perform old Frank Sinatra classics. The cat was kind a out of the bag that it was me singing. But not really me. A robot. First I drew vast crowds, but then the technical perfection that the machine allowed me to do began drawing less and less crowds. My performances were too perfect.

Meanwhile bad art was all the rage.

"Real." It was called.

I realized the suffering me from time before my implant would have been a hit now.

There were more and more of us avatars, doing our perfect art. Living our perfect lives, but like in the "Valley of dolls." something was amiss.

I was not happy. Even though I felt happy.

Neither was Linda.

We were thinking about our future immortality.

What would be the point?

Happy every day?

Possibly able to do things we could not imagine. Move to moons of Jupiter?

Heck. Visit Andromeda galaxy a few thousand years from now if we perfect the warp drive?

Give birth to new conscious minds that live their lives. Endlessly. Trapped in this universe knowing that even our immortality can not help us escape the fact that the universe itself has a deadline.

Yes. We were thinking about distant future, billion of years from now..

See that is how the human mind is. You fix one problem. The mind finds another.

Sure I would remind myself I should not think about that. Who cares about what is going to happen 2 - 22 billion years from now. Maybe we will be able to restart another universe or something.

But that is where I was.

That is where Linda was.

We were thinking about this transition that was to happen.

Because when we were visiting our physical bodies. We knew they did not have too much time.

The mind scanning was coming to close by the end of 2025 and our bodies had been hopped up on all kinds of medicines, but they were not looking too good.

We knew we had to do something.

So we went back to our bodies.

Elon had come up with a solution for the being paralyzed bit. A implant was put to my spine that was able to bridge the gap that had left me paralyzed. Linda was healed with another device and a successful lung transplant.

2026

turned out to be a year of our physical bodies being rehabilitated.

By the end of the year we were both walking pretty good again and Linda was breathing well for the first time in some 30 years. She no longer needed the oxygen nor me.

Yes. we had a divorce.

Linda left to live the life that she had always wanted, which did not include a musician, Christian and a astrophysicist.

So I began to withdraw to my calculations.

Me and Elon would often talk about the universe and its nature. And the more we talked, the more hopeless we got.

We would fly with the prototype Tesla flying car over the vast human mind storage facility. Then fly off to Rockies and talk about possible end scenarios for the universe.

Meanwhile Linda had wanted her mind to be wiped out of the storage all together.

Others on the other hand were uploading their minds en masse. All living their lives, thinking they would have a perfect ending as my theory had postulated.

But I was lost. Going to church my mind was full of doubt even thought I had seen the prophecies come true. Even though I was so blessed in the last six years.

My body was getting stronger. My mind was uploaded to a cloud if you like. Even if I died, my mind could be restarted in silicon. I could be copied and transferred to another facility on Mars or another solar system. All we had to do was to send some avatars that way with our minds and we could be in multiple places at the same time.

But our physical bodies would die.

When we were to close our eyes.

There would be the leap in to the unknown. Still.

By now there was a lot of science based Christian churches, trying to alleviate the suffering of people by promising that the jump was going to be easy. Trying to explain it away. The neuralink devices on the other hand were able to protect us from too great of a pain.

In fact, if I had wanted, I could have turned off all my mental suffering, but I chose to feel some.

Because I was thinking it was telling me something important.

Everything I had dreamed of .

Was in vain.

I knew what was wrong with my life.

I had not lived a perfect life. I had hurt people, I had paid my price.

Sure I had helped a lot of people by now.

But it was not enough. The nagging feeling that my biological mind was left with, would not leave me alone unless if I turned the neuralink device on to do so.

My body was very strong again. The medications that the mid twenties brought were magical. The quantum computers and AI in unison were able to make perfect, tailor made medications that believe it nor not. In 2026 healed me. Also, my spine was actually fixed.

When 2026 was ending.

I was left in a room full of golden records and newspaper articles on the walls. The trophies of my success.

But one face there made me lose my sight on all that.

The face of my ex and me. Standing next to each other in 2002

That was not to be.

No matter how wealthy I had got. No matter how smart.

I could not win her back.

And my mind could not be happy without her.

So I walked out.

Went to Tibet once again.

After a targeted memory wipe kindly provided to me by Elon.

1.1.2027

I opened my eyes. I saw mountains.

I saw a cloud. I was strangely drawn to the cloud.

I was thinking.

I remembered my name. Distant childhood.

I looked at my body.

It was withered and old.

I was aching all over.

There were what seemed like Buddhist monks all around me.

On the altar on the front of us someone was burning incense.

There were dragon gargoyles staring at me from these massive wooden beams.

I looked all around and did not see any trees.

I wondered where they came from.

I sighed.

I felt like I have to pee.

I opened my mouth and to my surprise I spoke Nepali language.

"Who am I", I asked out loud.

"You are one with the cloud", a monk said to me next to me and continued praying.

I looked at the cloud.

It did not have much of a substance. It was white cloud, not too large. With shadows on its bottom. Moving gently towards the distant mountains. It was not hurried. It was not angry. Kind. In fact it did not have a emotion.

But I did. I felt peace.

That year.

I learnt to be me again.

I was told I had asked and received a targeted memory wipe.

Past 30 years of my life wiped away. But I was shown articles and told that I had lived for sure.

I was also told that I had spent the 2010 to 2020 in living hell and that I should be happy I do not remember that time.

Weirdly, I felt like I was ok with that explanation.

But one thing was missing. I did not believe in the prophecies. I was told I had had prophecies, I saw a video of myself testifying about the said prophecies. But it was like watching a video of another person testifying in a church.

It was all very weird.

So I stayed in Tibet.

I developed a intense friendship with our religious leader.

He was telling me about Buddhism. About being present in the moment and he had my unwavering attention. There was nothing else to attend to after all. All electronic devices were forbidden.

In fact most things were forbidden, expect for endless sit downs, meditating. Thinking about nothing at all. Just observing the world around and inside of us.

Letting it be, to go by like that cloud on the sky.

After all we were passing through this life just like the cloud, temporary.

And I was fine with that.

2028

I was visited by a strange man. I did not know him. He had a rugged face. I heard that people called him Mr Sinatra. I assumed he was a look a like, since I knew Sinatra was dead. He looked at me with great compassion. But I did not really care for him. He seemed to go on endlessly about the universe and what it is all about.

It was very weird but he cared for me almost like one would care for a child.

I found it somewhat creepy.

The only thing I liked was him singing songs to us. His rendition of "Angel eyes", "My Way" and "New York, New York". Were better than the original. Mindblowing really.

When he left. I was happy. But the memory of the songs got stuck in my mind.

No one told me anything about the world outside. Yet, I was strangely drawn to making music.

But I thought about my life. What I remembered of it. I had always been a listener, not a maker. I had thought about physics, politics, news and so on. I was not really a musician.

So I did not pursue that. Even though I would play the monastery bells and hit the gong occasionally.

So who were there with me? There was Sajith, Devance and Amir. All very old.

Infact, our group consisted mostly of old farts, close to dying one way or another.

One by one we went. Sajith was close to seventy, he always told me. "Do not look back. There is nothing in life worth holding on to.", I was trying to be ok with his answer.

I guess I was. I was told my life earlier was nothing to really read about. Nothing to behold, I was told that I was happier now than I had been in my previous life.

And I was not really miserable. Devance and me would sometimes play cards. Amir and me played a game called "Civilization" on a fourty years old pc that had been forgotten in one corner of the monk compound by some crazy American millionaire.

We were all looking forward to passing on like a cloud.

2029

Nothing ever changes in Tibet. Expect for the wings of Canadian geese flapping by during some seasons and the few trees losing their leaves only to grow them again.

It was in the new year leading to 2029 that I had a weird idea.

I wanted to climb the Mt Everest.

After all I was used to very high mountain air and there was nothing else to do.

I was not tired of sitting with my fellow monks.

But it just seemed to make sense.

Few weeks later I heard that the news of my wish had been heard by some people who wanted to help.

And I woke up to the sound of blades moving massive amount of air. A helicopter?

"Come on Antti.", Amir was saying as he hurried in to the room, clad in what I recognized were mountain climbing clothing and gear.

"We have everything we need to climb Mt Everest.", Amir said with a smile.

I got up from my creaky bed and walked outside. There, a massive quadcopter was sitting on the ground, surrounded by the monks, touching its surface, its back open with a few pallets of climbing gear and people who were speaking English.

"Hello Antti Luode.", a man said, grinning. "I heard you want to scale Everest?", he said.

"Yes. I think I should be able to do it.", after all I am dying like all of us. So why not die today?", I said and shook his hand.

"Will Smith.", the man said and took my hand. Watching me once again very warmly, in a way that reminded me of my meeting with Mr Sinatra look a like.

"Nice to meet you Will Smith. Are not you that actor?", I said.

"Yes! I heard about what you wanted and wanted to help.", Will said with a grin

TRAINING

We began with training.

It was grueling for our old bodies.

But we were used to grueling in the monastery.

I also remembred I used to exercise in my youth a lot.

So it was not new to me.

We were treated with several medications that were supposed to strengthen our bodies and help us in climbing the Everest.

We started small.

We scaled few local mountains.

We got stronger by the day.

Time went by.

I kept on watching at the clouds.

Dreaming of the day when I would fade like one of those clouds.

In to the blue.

Me and Amir had a lot of talks about that day.

"You know there is no fear in passing.", Amir would tell me.

"There is only change from one state to another.", he would continue as we climbed up the mountain.

"The thoughts will cease and you will be like the wind.", he said. Smiling. Stopping.

Devance cracking a joke about the wind behind me.

"Way to break the feeling.", I would say back to Devance.

Sajith on the other hand would seriously just go on.

Waiting on to the next life as wind.

By the end of our training.

Sajith became the wind.

He just did not wake up one morning.

Smile on his face.

In his funeral the feeling was very transcending.

Will Smith kept looking at us like we knew something that he did not.

I spoke with him sometimes. About the incredible fact that he was there, that I had had memory wipe, about how the old me was. But then I would interrupt. "I do not want to know.", and I did not.

I did not want to know, I was happy where I was. Looking forward to walking up the worlds tallest mountain.

June first 2029

We were all sitting in our tents at our last camp before reaching the summit of Mt Everest.

I was reading a bible that I got from a couple that had broken in to our summer cottage when I was a child. They had left it with a note. "We are sorry for living in your cabin, but we had hard times." They had cleaned the whole cabin and left that one bible.

On the front page of it was my name written with almost unrecognizable hand writing of a 7 year old. On the section of it where there were "The dead relatives." I had written down the name of my grandpa written with the same blocky letters of a first grader.

I was beyond broken. Our ascend had been hard. It would have been hard for a twenty year old, let alone for a 56 year old not so healthy man.

But I was determined to go on.

The only person in our group that seemed like it was no problem was the mysterious Will Smith.

I did not understand how a human being, especially one as old as he. Could be so non chalant about a climb. Another thing that I was marveling was how he did not seem to eat. He said he had a bit in his tent. But he was getting by with very little.

It was morning.

We got up.

I looked at the summit, at the blackish sky above it. The vast mountain range going towards India behind me. I thought about my life. How it had been. How I heard it had been. And how it would be.

I was going to reach the summit of Mt Everest today. Maybe Passing away on the way. But I was going to reach it. In spirit or in body. I did not care.

Neither did the rest of us.

It was nothing to the rest of us monks. They did not believe in conquest, but they did believe in friendship and they were following me. I did not know why. But they were following me.

We packed our tents. We began walking up the icy mountain side.

I was walking on the front. Occasionally we came by dead bodies that had frozen in the ice, trying to do the same as we were doing today. God knows why. Some of them very rich, very happy. Knowing they could die.

I guess they had reached their dream.

We were walking up.

Behind me, the monks were humming a prayer.

Will Smith joined along, he was fantastic. It seemed that just like Sinatra, he could emulate any sound.

I knew there was more to it than that. But I did not want to know.

I knew my life before had been so fantastical and miserable at the same time that I did not care to know any more mind blowing secrets. Secrets that I knew my past life was shrouded in.

So up we walked. One step at a time. In to the blue

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