The Sphere of Time

by TIME, S. O.

  I consider the pain and grief I felt from the people gathered by the memorial at the university. I think of the old sorrows hanging on the guests during Hana’s speech at the Victory Dinner. I remember the hard-etched echoes of fear and sadness carved into the veterans at the Matsuo household. What a weight for Hana to carry—to feel responsible for making sure that never happens again.

  “Why doesn’t Hana make you a new body? I’m sure with your technolog—”

  “I chose this,” Aldrea shakes her head. “Mom offered to put me in a robot, like in the Bionic Branch of Humanity, but I think I’d hate the feeling. Mom even offered to work on an artificial reality that I could exist in, like in the Virtual Branch of Humanity, but I like that idea even less. Everything would be completely fake.” Aldrea walks around and watches as the roses beside us sway gently with the breeze. She moves to pick one up, but her hand passes right through it. “I had my own issues with moving forward as a hologram. I did it partly so I wasn’t confined to my thoughts as my body just lays there, but I mostly did it so I could see my mother. This is really the only way we get to interact. I have the capacity to function as a hologram above ground, but I want to experience it all together for the first time in person. I want to feel the sun on my skin as I walk out. I want to feel the breeze and smell the scents it brings with it. I want to hug Kou tightly when I apologize for removing myself from his life. I don’t want that to be synthetic. I don’t want to feel that through the hand of a robot or in a fake world. It might sound silly, but that’s what I want.”

  Before I can respond a shuddering explosion knocks me off my feet for the third time today. After a few moments of disorientation, I realize the sound came from above us—up in the lab.

  Chapter Fourteen

  T he building shakes above us, and I’m rocked back and forth as I sense seven souls vanish—not die, utterly cease. Aldrea’s hologram flickers. Aldrea. I start toward her room when she shouts at me, “I’m fine, go check on mom!”

  “But—”

  “Go!” she demands, pointing to the east wall. “Use the stairs!”

  I rush to where she points and find the exit leading to a set of emergency stairs. As I race upwards I sense Hana’s energy in turmoil. I follow that storm of emotion to the room where I first saw Kou meet Hana before the Victory Dinner. The room with the giant circular machine.

  I enter through a door beside the elevator and am immediately hurled forward, sucked toward the circular contraption in the center of the room in a thunderous rush of air. The metal ring has crumpled in multiple places, whole sections twisted or missing, but a jagged, unnatural Tear lies within the remains—a Tear that leads into the vacuum of space. I hurtle toward the fissure, but Chives snags my ankle before I am yanked into the void. He’s glowing a brilliant blue, his face locked in an expression of fierce confidence as he launches himself from wall to wall, his energy preventing him from being sucked into the fissure.

  He hauls me to a breached foundational support wall. Hana sits there, watching as this unstable Tear sucks up everything in the room. Her face is frozen in an expression of both grief and rage. As Chives and I make our way behind the wall, Hana gives me a stricken look, and then returns her gaze to the Tear at the remains of the mutilated gateway.

  “That was our only working prototype. Now I’ll never save Aldrea.” I can barely hear her over the roaring of the escaping air and ringing of emergency warning systems.

  Her energy is so cold, as if it belongs to a corpse that managed to keep its soul. The fissure is definitely a Tear, but I’ve never seen one this violent.

  “Can we close it?” I shout.

  Hana stares forward mutely, unresponsive.

  I look at Chives, and speak with confidence I don’t really possess. “I need you to get me as close as you can to that Tear.”

  He nods. “Make it fast!”

  Chives takes a second to gather his energy, and I grab hold of his back. Seconds later, he leaps out to a small contraption that is still bolted to the floor and grabs it with both hands. His grip slips as the object shifts slightly in reaction to the added mass. He catches himself almost immediately, but the abrupt movement jolts me off his back and I hurtle toward the Tear again. Chives catches my leg with one hand and manages to hold on to the contraption with the other, but I’m left dangling a few meters from the Tear—a few meters from that same cold emptiness that enveloped me when the world ended.

  I close my eyes and try not to think about that moment. The Tear’s energy is wrong—dark and twisted, like an infected vine, contaminating its surroundings as it grows. A primal terror threatens to overwhelm me, bringing to mind the figure from my vision. I fight the fear and force myself to focus on what is familiar. It’s still energy—it can still be controlled and closed.

  “I can’t hold on much longer!” Chives yells, the words stolen away so quickly by the vacuum that I barely catch them at all.

  I extend my arms wide and try to grasp the Tear’s pulsating energy. It feels slippery and alien, bucking from my control as I struggle to restrain it. Suddenly, I feel my leg slip from Chive’s hand, and I fall toward the Tear. In that instant I open my eyes and slap my hands together with a sharp clap. The Tear closes right before I can cross the threshold, snapping shut with a sizzle of ozone. My momentum carries me forward, and I fall painfully to the floor, skidding along the rubble-strewn ground until I smack into the wall. My fingers tingle painfully, but even as I add them to the list of injuries, I notice another sensation—faint and shallow, but wonderfully familiar. Energy, the power of Death. Somehow, closing that Tear brought some of it back. I curl up slightly, as if to physically protect the few precious drops of power that the twisted portal returned to me.

  There’s a brief silence as the blaring alarms finally turn off, and then the quarantine doors slide open and a flurry of emergency personnel rush in.

  Chives helps Hana stand, and she finally speaks again—giving orders and organizing the responders—but there’s a noticeable distance in her speech and movement. She moves with stilted efficiency and her gaze is flat. I feel her energy ache with hollow despair whenever her eyes fall upon the wreckage of her invention.

  A few minutes later, as a white crystal user finishes tending my bruised ribs, I hear a familiar voice cut through the murmur of the scientists and workers.

  “Mom!” Kou runs through the crowd and embraces her, holding her close. Immediately his condenser activates, but his red crystal stays dark. Like with Hitori, his black crystal is the only one active. I watch as it drinks in Hana’s distress, her sadness, even her fear.

  Her energy settles into a more natural state, and she returns his embrace.

  #

  Several days later, I stand outside the mansion in the morning, waiting for Kou to come out so we can go to school with Hitori. We still have no clue how that Tear in the lab was created. It killed eight people in total—the seven who were pulled in when it first opened, and one other who was struck by debris. The investigation indicates that the incomplete portal was activated from within, but any evidence of what caused the activation was sucked into the Tear and lost in space. The more I think about it, the more the destruction of this planet replays in my head. Each night, I dream about the shadowy figure walking through the hundreds of dead bodies on that field. I smell iron in the air.

  “Hey, you alright?” Kou calls beside me, making me jump.

  “I’m fine. How’s Dr. Kurosawa?”

  “Mom’s fine. She’s down in the lab working again. Says she’ll be down there a while.” Kou shrugs. “I’m not too worried, she always bounces back.” His energy is still shaken, but calm.

  As Hitori’s pod comes through the trees Kou says, “I hadn’t gotten to tell you, but thank you for looking out for my mom.”

  “It’s the least I could do. Thank you for taking me in.”

  Hitori’s pod pulls up, and Kou rushes inside and sits next to her. As we leave for school, all of our holos g
o off, and a message from the Mirai Condenser University pops up.

  “Dear MCU Students,

  Due to numerous reports from concerned students and student family members, we are issuing this announcement. Since the beginning of the school year, there have been an increasing number of protests around the school for Special Condenser Operations. For now the protests remain peaceful, and the university faculty are aware of the situation.

  We ask students to take this into consideration when commuting as public transportation may become impacted. Students should also remember that we, as a community, aren’t here to put down the opinions of others, but to remain open to communication and differences of opinion, lest we return to the uncivilized ways of the past.

  Let us continue to maintain a peaceful and open learning environment for all.

  We wish you all happy learning!

  Mirai Condenser University”

  Kou and Hitori hold hands as they finish reading the message.

  “Man, I guess some people really don’t like the class increase,” Kou says.

  “Just one more thing we’re going to have to look out for,” Hitori replies, her grip on Kou’s hand tightening. “We should’ve expected something would happen. Will we really get through this?”

  “We’ll make it through just fine. We always do.” Kou replies, though his energy feels more hesitant than his words.

  When we arrive at the school for Special Condenser Operations, the air is thick with discomfort, anxiety, and uncertainty. Protesters stay clumped in groups around the walkway leading to the entrance while students hurry past them. Most of the students keep their eyes down or focused on the building ahead, but a few meet the gazes of the protesters boldly, as if daring them to step in their way. A number of instructors wait outside the building, watching the crowd and their students with calm expressions. Kou, Hitori, and I reach the stairs leading to the entrance when we hear shouting behind us.

  “You’re wrong, I’m protecting you!” one of the SCO students shouts to a protester.

  "They're making you into a weapon, Tramil! We have shields to protect us now!"

  "Go home, Armis. I'm doing what I need to keep our family safe. To keep all of you safe!" he shouts, directing his last declaration to the crowd at large. The protestors shift uncomfortably, unfamiliar with this direct address. I realize I recognize the shouting student—Tramil, the protester called him. Tramil is the student I saw hurriedly leaving the general’s office before my entrance interview. He turns to head toward the building, but his brother breaks away from the crowd and grabs his arm.

  "Why are you acting this way? This isn’t like you. Tramil, please!"

  In a blink, Tramil is wreathed in a red aura. His energy shudders strangely, as if struggling to remain intact. He yanks his arm free and turns with automatic precision, swinging his fist in a practiced, follow-through punch powered by vicious red energy.

  The strike lands—but not on his brother's face. Purple sparks fly as the red fist meets a deep blue shield that has formed around Armis. Tramil stares in shock at his brother's horrified face, only then realizing what he almost did. His energy immediately cools and another student, enveloped by a deep, ocean blue aura steps forward. The shield around Armis flows back into the student's blue aura as she places a heavy hand on Tramil's shoulder.

  "You don't want to do this."

  Tramil shakes slightly as his brother steps away from him, hands raised and eyes bright with fear. "Armis—I—I didn't mean to—Armis! I just—"

  Instructors detain Tramil as a few other protestors pull Armis back into the crowd amid a rumble of concerned murmurs.

  Armis is uninjured, and the instructors drag Tramil off with no affectation of gentleness, but the damage has been done. Because the energy from the protestors doesn't only show fear—it’s now laced with shards of anger.

  Chapter Fifteen

  T he inside of the SCO building is filled with hushed conversations and furtive looks. The few who were not outside to witness the event itself listen wide-eyed to the whispered descriptions from their peers. The instructors have ordered us to line up like we did for orientation. Directly to the right of me is the blue crystal user that defended Armis. She’s one of the tallest students in the room, with dark skin and alert brown eyes. A jagged scar cuts across the left side of her face, running from right above her left brow down to her chin. She looks ahead with the same confidence she showed outside.

  General Bartek emerges from the second floor and looks down to address us with disappointment in his eyes. There is no light shining down on his uniform today.

  “It has come to my attention that one of our recruits lashed out at a member of the public.” He pauses and brings his hands behind his back. “Our value to our community is correlated precisely with our discipline, our rigor, and our dedication.”

  General Bartek strides back and forth, the pressure from his jaw visible on his temple. “When civilians stand in opposition to us, it is our duty to respect and protect them—regardless of our own opinions. Your personal feelings are irrelevant in the face of the greater good. Deviation from your duty will not be accepted.” The General stops and stands still once more. He leans forward on the rail. “Tramil Geraldine has been dishonorably discharged from the program and relinquished to the authorities. Any who act as he did will face the same punishment. Dismissed.”

  He leaves and the whispers return as we await further instructions.

  “Attention!” one of our instructors shouts. “Until now we’ve only tested your academic knowledge. Now it’s time to test your physical abilities. We shall assess your capabilities and place you in squadrons based on the results.” The lights around us dim and five of the doors on the second level light up, each with a different condenser crystal color. “Go to the room with the color that matches your crystal and await further instructions.”

  The swirl of emotions grows as students shift their concerns from the morning's violence to their own imminent assessments. Most hide their anxiety behind brave smiles or calm expressions, but the reality of their feelings weighs on me unpleasantly. Even more concerning, a few of their energies ripple with the same strange energy I sensed from Tramil. I reach into my pocket and run my fingers through the cylindrical device that will activate my blue shield. I hope it’s enough to handle whatever challenges come my way.

  We walk upstairs to our designated rooms in the same orderly fashion. I follow the line of students that turn toward the blue door and watch as one by one they walk up to it and are prompted to scan their faces and holos. Once they’ve been verified, the door opens and they’re let inside. When my turn finally comes, I face the scanner on the door to verify my identity. Nothing happens. They had taken a scan of my face during orientation—surely the image was on file—but nothing seems to be happening and the last thing I want to do is cause a scene.

  I feel a tap on my left shoulder and the blue user from outside appears beside me.

  “Don’t worry about the face scanner, just use your holo,” she says, demonstrating by scanning her own device without stepping up to the face scanner. The door opens and she stands in front of it. I look at her and say nothing. She smiles and extends her hand out to me. I shake it.

  “The name’s Cortez. We’re all going to be working together from now on, so we should look out for each other. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Eiji. You’re right. Thanks.”

  She nods and walks inside. I wait for a few minutes until the scanner glows green, indicating that the instructor is ready for the next student, and then follow suit.

  I enter a room that is completely white—and empty, somehow, despite all the students who entered before me. I don’t sense anyone’s energies. There are no windows, but the ceiling glows as if sunlight is shining directly through it. I look down and notice I am standing on wide panels, too big to be tile. I walk into the center of the room and hear nothing but the questions racing through my mind. Where is
everybody? I turn back toward the door when one of the panels beneath me collapses and I drop. I’m sucked downward but see nothing but blackness as I descend. After a few seconds I land on a hard substance, but I don’t feel any pain, as if the mat I landed on absorbed the damage.

  As soon as I stand, the lights turn on, and I find myself in a large arena filled with rocky terrain. Our instructors are seated right outside the edge of the arena on raised chairs, but there are no other students. I raise my head to ask what I’m doing here, but my train of thought is lost when I hear the cry of a little boy.

  “M-Mommy? Where are you?”

  I look ahead and pulse the area around me for his energy, but I sense nothing. An explosion rings out from the same direction, and I begin sprinting toward it, realizing that it must be part of my test. The air is heavy with dust, obscuring my vision. I slow down, feeling vague irritation at my lack of mobility in this physical form.

  “Mom? Mommy!” The voice comes from my left and is beginning to show panic. There’s still no hint of any living energy—it must be a recording or a hologram. Despite knowing that it is only a test, the tone sets my teeth on edge. The crack in his voice as he speaks resonates within me, and I fight to stay calm as I pick my way through the treacherous terrain. The dust doesn’t seem to be letting up at all, as if it were designed to stick to the air after the explosion.

  “Hold on, I’m coming!” I find myself shouting.

  The boy’s voice doesn’t reply. I keep up a steady jog, following a patch of light I see through the dust. I pulse out for his energy again on instinct, but of course, there is nothing to sense. When I finally reach the end of the dust cloud, the boy is still nowhere to be seen. I look around and spot a boulder that I might be able to climb—if I can get on top of it, I can try to spot him from above.