The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Had it not been for Nicholai’s access to purified water, a luxury afforded to him from being the Southeastern Time Father, it would have been difficult for Malcolm to raise his plants with success. The act of purifying water was a difficult process; the public only had access to whatever clean water rations their Time Fathers issued them. Malcolm often assumed the only reason his greenhouse remained one of the two left in Panagea was due to his access to purified water through Lilac. It was a blessing to him that his daughter fell in love with a man of affluence and generosity. Even better that he treated her like a goddess.

  “Yes,” Malcolm agreed, looking back to the carrots. “I think its cause for a small celebration. A toast?” He looked over his students to gauge their reaction to his suggestion.

  The students radiated from his praise and exchanged nods and agreements. Malcolm disappeared into a back room, returning several minutes later with six small glasses of cucumber-infused water. “After your carrot harvest,” he started, passing the drinks out, “I’ll teach you how to grow cucumbers. They’re a delightful creeping vine that’s not too challenging to nurture. Then you’ll be able to make your own cucumber water.”

  Lilac smiled, swirling her cucumber water around in the glass before she took a sip. “It’s a shame we can’t toast traditionally ... with good, old-fashioned wine.”

  Malcolm let out a laugh, nursing his water while the students drank theirs in. “You know as well as I do there hasn’t been a grape around in decades. Though what a time to be alive that would have been. Legend has it, the wine festivals of some cultures lasted for weeks. There was no holds barred in honoring the gods and goddesses who shined favor on the harvest.”

  One student lowered his glass, swallowing a mouthful of the infused beverage. “I heard Kazuaki Hidataka discovered authentic wine kegs a few years back. It happened in the Southwestern division, just before I moved here. There wasn't anything in the papers about it, but the Southwestern military surrounded a cavern on the coast for days. My friend said that's where he pulled it from. Could you imagine?”

  “Imagining is about all you can do when you speak of that old pirate,” Malcolm chuckled, setting his empty glass down. “My grandparents used to tell me stories of the great Captain Kazuaki Hidataka and his hunts for the legends of old. Occasionally, I’ll catch wind of a story involving someone who saw him,” he said, shaking his head. “But I take none of it for a fact. If Kazuaki existed, there would be hard evidence. I suspect, if he ever existed, he’s long dead now. A shame if that cavern full of wine existed though. It would be a waste for it to go untasted ...” Malcolm’s eyes glazed over as he tried to imagine what it would be like to experience a full-bodied wine. He never saw a grape in all his life, let alone witnessed them turned into the alcoholic beverage. As far as he knew, and ever would know, it was a drink that only existed for the tongues of the gods.

  Lilac returned her empty glass to her father. “I’ll get going, you know how I hate to interrupt class,” she tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Thanks for the water, papa—I put your jugs by the door, as well as a little treat I cooked up with my blackberries.”

  Malcolm glanced over his daughter’s shoulder to see the purified water she snuck over from the house she and Nicholai shared. His smile was great as he squeezed her hand. He knew Nicholai could get reprimanded if it was discovered he supplied them with twice the water rations they should have been getting. But for his boldness, Malcolm was grateful. “And these,” he said, pulling a small, wrapped package from his back pocket and stuffing it into her palm, “are for you. Enjoy.”

  Lilac held the microgreens to her chest and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, papa. Enjoy the rest of the class, everybody.” She waved to the students and slipped out the door, inspired to go home and see what kind of dish she could whip up with the microgreens. Even if she had to combine the natural ingredients with manufactured food-like products to create a more filling meal, the greens would bring a freshness to her palate the artificial food could not.

  The woman’s feet didn’t carry her too far from the store before she heard a man shout her name. “Lilac! Lilac Finn!” he called out. She turned in time to see a middle-aged man running toward her. When he closed the distance, he seized her arm with unintended aggression. “I need to see Nicholai, it’s imperative!”

  Lilac jerked her arm away in a show of disapproval. “Excuse me,” she uttered, sizing the stranger up with her eyes. She was a small woman, but the size difference between the two would not stop her from trying to drop him if need be. “Do I know you?” she asked.

  “I need to see the Time Father,” he repeated, trying without success to grab her arm again. “I know you two are of a together sort, married or unmarried, it matters not to me,” the man rambled. “It’s my daughter, she’s in dire need. She’s gravely ill. Please. I need to see Nicholai.”

  The anxiety in his face was easy to detect. It illuminated tenfold by the panic in his voice. After the initial shock of his less than gentlemanly approach, her heart went out to him. Lilac was nothing if not a caring sort. On the rare occasion an animal found its way into the iron city, Lilac gave it her all to be sure they were well before reintroducing them to a safer space in the outside world. She extended the same gratitude to people. But even still, she did not understand his request. “I’m sorry to hear it, but I don’t know how he could help. Nicholai is not a medical doctor.”

  “Please,” the man begged. “I need to see him. I must. She’s running out of time.”

  Something about his request did not feel right in her gut. But his persistence and obvious love for his daughter compelled her. It reminded her of her relationship with her papa, and how he would move the stars in the sky to bring her a small shred of comfort. “I ... suppose I can take you back to the house,” she started. Her soft heart was both her most positive and negative attribute. “We can wait for him there.”

  “Thank you,” the man put his hands together in prayer. “That’s all I ask.”

  A churning lived in her stomach. Lilac questioned her motives as the two started toward her house. She was not sure if her indecision rose from within herself, or if it was a side effect of this desperate man’s chaotic energy. But it was not about him ... it was about his child. There wasn’t much Lilac wouldn’t do for a child in need. “So,” she started as they walked, “tell me about your daughter ...”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Nicholai’s home was often a refuge for him. He looked forward to returning there after every long day he endured. But today was different. He dragged his feet more the closer he got to the door. Each step meant putting himself closer to telling Lilac about the expiration date on Malcolm’s store. It burned at him all day. He drudged through every possible scenario to avoid it, trying to find creative alternatives to the inevitable, but it all boiled down to two outcomes: either he defied Nordjan and opened himself up to the horrid aftermath that brought, or he metaphorically stabbed Lilac and her father in the heart.

  Either scenario would kill him, in one way or another.

  The sun started to set. The street lights had been lit one by one by the lamplighters of Nenada. It was beautiful, the way they came to life at night. The little home came into his view. Due to his prestigious position, he possessed the largest house in the Southeastern division, but it was still only five small rooms of less than 800 square feet. Other Time Fathers chose lavish buildings as their residence, but Nicholai did not need such luxuries. Furthering industry had always been valued above the comforts of the people. The residential areas made the necessary sacrifices to business. He felt if his people had to suffer in small spaces, then he would too. Nicholai furrowed his brow. Every evening prior, he saw a comforting glow of light coming from the front window. But the house was dark. Lilac sat on a bench outside the front door, talking to a man he did not immediately recognize.

  Lilac spotted him in the distance and jumped to her feet. It was clear she was glad to see him,
relieved to have a buffer between herself and the man’s thick desperation. “Nicholai!” she waved, beckoning him over with haste.

  Nicholai was no stranger to those who wanted to consult with the Time Father after hours. He was a little relieved himself to have something to help him further put off his unpleasant conversation with Lilac. As he drew closer, he recognized the man to be Rodgie, a mechanic belonging to the steam car factory half a mile away.

  They hadn’t spent much time together—a seminar here and there, at mechanical repair conferences. Rodgie attended them to further his knowledge in fixing automobile-related issues. Nicholai attended them too. It was required all Time Fathers remained well-versed in maintaining the integrity of their Chronometers. Though his attendance was forced, Nicholai loved the inner workings of various machines and was a savant regarding the subject. He and Rodgie shared small conversations at the seminars, bonding over their mutual enjoyment of working with cogs and gears to create a functioning item, but he never expected to see him outside a convention. “Rodgie,” he extended a diplomatic hand to shake, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Nicholai, it’s my daughter,” Rodgie bypassed the hand as he stood to his feet, too consumed by his task to focus on formalities. “I need your help, please.”

  “She’s quite ill,” Lilac added, having absorbed the details in the time she spent with Rodgie. “She’s contracted black lung disease, I’m afraid ...”

  Nicholai frowned, though he remained empathetic. Black lung became a common diagnosis. With the number of air pollutants increasing and the amount of fresh oxygen depleting, the number of people afflicted grew to epidemic proportions. Competent medical professionals were harder and harder to come by. A majority of the higher-paying jobs belonged to trained mechanics or those who entered manufacturing jobs. Few young adults wanted to put in the years of effort and energy required to earn a medical degree when they could make more money joining the blue-collar workforce with little to no effort at all. “I’m so sorry, Rodgie—” Nicholai trailed off. Black lung disease was a death sentence, and the tone of his voice showed as much.

  Rodgie bristled at his words. “Please, I do not need your condolences, just your help. Word on the wind is Aggi Normandy of the Northeastern division is working on an experimental treatment. Evvy needs it, posthaste.”

  Nicholai opened his mouth to speak but stopped. “Rodgie,” he tried to find the right words, “my sympathies know no bounds for you, friend, but I fail to see how I can help. Could you not just request it be sent through the post?”

  “No!” Rodgie yelled but calmed himself soon after. “I’m sorry, no. It would take weeks for my proposal to reach Northeastern, another week to process my request, and then several more weeks before the medicine reached my doorstep. Nicholai ...” His face was beseeching. He looked tired. “She has but hours. A day at most. Please.”

  The Time Father shifted in discomfort. Rodgie occasionally spoke of his daughter at the conferences. She must have been seven or eight years old now. He tried to push the image of the dying girl out of his head as it was too painful to imagine. He saw those who lingered at the end stages of black lung before—their chest almost collapsing in on itself, their eye sockets dark and sunken, skin pale and thin. It must have been a nightmare for her father to see her like that. “Rodgie, you know I cannot leave the Southeastern division for more than twenty-four hours without dire consequences—” Direr than he cared to admit. If he were not in his division to wind his watch, time here stopped. If time in one division stopped, the tectonic plates in every other division met resistance at Southeastern’s borders. Nothing could move, not an inch. It did not seem like much, but the natural mechanics of Panagea's underbelly would turn into utter chaos. “I don’t have access to a flying machine as Nordjan has, there’s just no way I could make it there and back in time conventionally.”

  “Conventionally, no,” Rodgie said, his voice hinting at something Nicholai did not care for.

  The Time Father glanced at Lilac. It was clear from her expression she did not understand what he was insinuating. Nicholai turned his attention back to the desperate man. He thought he knew, but he asked anyway. “What are you implying, Rodgie?”

  Rodgie paused, understanding the severity of what he was about to ask. “You ... could stop time here. Just for long enough to reach the Northeastern division and return with the medicine. I’m sure it wouldn’t be more than three days to jump through the hoops of securing it. Two days if you—”

  “Absolutely not,” Nicholai said with authority. On any other day, he might have considered it. But Nicholai Addihein teetered on the edge of Nordjan's watchful eye. He needed to step up and be a leader. It was unfortunate leadership required making difficult decisions. Stopping time ... it was without a doubt the biggest taboo any Time Father could commit. Even without the political consequences, the physical ramifications to Panagea were too great. She was already so fragile. “I can help in any other way, friend, but that, I simply cannot do.”

  Lilac’s face fell as the two men spoke. She knew in her heart there was nothing Nicholai could do for Rodgie’s daughter, but she hoped, for the little girl’s sake. She put a sympathetic hand on the poor man’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Rodgie.”

  He forced his shoulder out from beneath her touch. “Your pity means nothing,” he spat, his desperation escalating. “I need action. She needs action!”

  “You know I care for each of Southeastern’s people like my family, Rodgie,” Nicholai lowered his voice to bring calm back to the situation, “but I can’t—”

  “You can,” Rodgie corrected with a frustrated growl, “but you refuse! Were it your own flesh and blood, or Lilac,” he spat, motioning to the woman beside him, “you would do so without blinking an eye. Whispers abound you give them more than their fair share of fresh water!”

  “I ...” Nicholai stopped, unable to deny the accusation. He frowned, knowing his playing of favorites was unfair, but he did not think about the long term consequences returning to haunt him. In every other way, he tried his best to be a fair leader to his division. “I would never stop time for personal gain. But that’s neither here nor there, Rodgie. This is not like you. You are a man sick with love for his daughter, and understandably so. I would give my arm to help her if I could, but I can’t stop time. If there’s anything else I can do, name it and I’ll do it.”

  “We both will,” Lilac added, joining Nicholai in his efforts to ease the embittered man’s suffering.

  Rodgie stared at them both with hate and hurt. Nicholai saw the glassy orbs glaze over with wetness as the man fought away burning tears. He shook his head and took several steps backward to create distance between them. “You can stop time,” he whispered, clenching his fists. “You choose not to!”

  Nicholai took a step forward, holding up his hands. “Rodgie, calm down—we’ll take you home, Lilac can make Evvy a nice tea to soothe her pain. Lilac, do you still have that ginger root or peppermint from Malcolm?”

  The woman nodded, glancing over to the unhinged Rodgie. "I do, I can make her some straight away—"

  “No!” Rodgie yelled, finding himself at the mercy of his heartache. He loved Evvy too much. “You will stop time, Nicholai,” he breathed, reaching into his vest and brandishing an old pistol. The metallic sheen of the weapon glistened in the lamplight above. His hands shook as he lifted it, aiming the barrel at Lilac. “I’m sorry,” tears escaped from his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, but I love her too much—”

  Nicholai’s eyes widened, and he glanced over to Lilac. She took one step back and instinct lifted her hand to protect herself, though the flesh was a poor shield. Instinct overtook Nicholai too. He didn’t even realize he’d done it. In the time it took Rodgie’s quivering finger to squeeze the trigger, the Time Father’s thumbnail dug into the crown of the Chronometer and popped it up. But it was too late. He heard the discharge.

  The world around him stopped in
every way. It took a moment for Nicholai to collect himself. The deafening silence of nothingness surrounded him, adding more fuel to the fire of his panic. His heart thrashed from inside him as the weight of everything crashed down. The bullet paused inches away from Lilac’s horrified face. The curls of her red hair defied gravity as they suspended in the air. Like everything else around them, they were frozen.

  Nicholai closed his eyes. Perhaps the darkness would keep him from screaming. But even a scream may have been welcomed. He never stopped time before; the silence was maddening. He pushed the panic bubbling up inside him aside and slowly walked over to Lilac. He reached out a hand, trembling as much as Rodgie’s was moments earlier. Her face, though rife with fear, was soft and warm beneath his fingertips. He stared at her for what felt like hours though it was likely only minutes. It was hard to tell when no time passed.

  It took everything he had to tear himself away from Lilac and step over to Rodgie. His expression was a cocktail of hopelessness and regret. His love twisted him into a demon capable of monstrous action. Though as Nicholai gazed about the land where time stood still, his own questionable actions came under intense scrutiny. He ran back over to Lilac, cupping her face in his hands. He closed his eyes, wanting very much to rest his forehead against hers as he had countless times before, but he could not move the bullet that stood in his way. Or her arm. He was incapable of manipulating anything while his division's time remained paralyzed.