Twin Spirit

by Matthew Thompson

  “On Earth, yes. There aren’t ghost stories for nothing, you know. But I prefer to age here. There isn't anything on Earth to entertain me. Now, Kiian sits within a solar system of spirit planets, in a galaxy –”

  “Like in the Milky Way?” interrupted Rose.

  “No, a ring galaxy called Domino.”

  Rose held a thought, imagining millions of dominos in space.

  “Life is like dominos, see?” Stanley added.

  “No, I don’t see,” said Rose, pulling a face.

  “Have you ever toppled a domino into another?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Think about. Now, imagine this: we’re positioned three billion light years away from Earth. You know how far that is?”

  Rose gasped and her jaw sank. “No… but it sounds far,” she said softly, then she had a sudden thought. “Wait, we arrived here in seconds.”

  “Quite, as Earth spirits are granted such teleportation. And the connection between Earth and Kiian is permanent, manifested by a Judge, named Drasaji.”

  “Drasaji?” echoed Rose.

  “The first Judge to rule this world. The worst to ever rule. A reaper of souls. You see, Drasaji discovered Earth and its highly evolved species long before the days of Christ. He united the two worlds, as the presence of spiritkind gives a Judge strength and longevity. We are a highly sought-after commodity amongst the Judges of our universe.”

  Rose struggled to conjure a mental image of a Judge, and settled for a man with a vast white beard wearing a long cloak.

  “However, during the early fifteen hundreds, Earth’s calendar, this world was shaken to its core. A miracle came and fought. A new Judge overruled Drasaji for power. His name was Ollus. A much-welcomed Judge, who wished to work alongside spiritkind, not overrule. If it wasn’t for Ollus, our world wouldn’t exist as it does today.”

  Coo-koo! Coo-koo! Coo-koo!

  Rose glanced at the chiming bird and watched it retreat back into the clock. She retuned her attention to Stanley.

  “Drasaji’s world was bleak, with little atmosphere and nothing but rolling mist, covering ninety per cent of barren terrain – the rest craters. Once Ollus ruled, he allowed great minds to thrive. One such collaboration brought two men together: Francis Herbert and Samuel Henderson. Together with Ollus, they made returning to Earth and duplication possible. By any standards an historic achievement, as Earth’s treasures could be obtained. Although the materials were used here, it was never going to be enough. And thanks to a man named Marcus Angelo, the sectors were born: the largest and greatest playhouses you’ll ever see. Heck, this planet became known as Angelo. Some even say he was Leonardo da Vinci’s prodigy.”

  “Da Vinci,” said Rose, “I’ve heard of him.”

  Stanley stood and began to pace back and forth, speaking with greater passion. “The first sector remains unchanged to this day, over fifteen kilometres in length, width and height. A gigantic steel monolith, though minute compared with the largest we have today.”

  Lily unfolded her arms and turned her head with a puzzled expression.

  “Every inch within the sector was controllable. Whatever they wanted, as long as the material had been brought back from Earth: it could be shaped, moulded and combined however one desired. And indeed, Angelo worked with the greatest of architects, designing the first sector as a tribute to his country. It featured St Peter’s of Rome, the Arch of Titus, and the greatest of them all, the Colosseum. Technology has advanced to the point where whole cities can be captured from Earth and reproduced in a sector. ” Stanley’s eyes turned to the window. “Only…”

  “Only what?” asked Rose.

  “Unlike Earth, there’s infinite fuel supply with duplication. Over six hundred sectors were created, dawning a new era. The generators that make it possible caused the atmosphere to swell under the immense weight of industrial chemicals. As a by-product, storms have raged in this world for over three centuries. And by all accounts, it’s getting worse.”

  Lily peered to the outside fury. “Is that why malfunctions happen?” she asked, remembering their perilous events with Pei.

  “Mostly due to power cuts. Indeed, the very first sectors weren’t perfect, and we continue to live in an imperfect world. So it’s vital, should you ever come across a malfunction zone, that you keep well away. It’s extremely dangerous for two entities to co-inhabit in the same vicinity.”

  “We already have,” said Lily.

  “What?”

  “Professor Pei drove us through malfunctions in New York.”

  “Jeez!” cried Stanley, and puffed his cheeks while shaking his head. “He’s finally lost it.”

  “What about Bella Air?” asked Rose. “Could it malfunction, disappear?”

  Stanley wafted his index finger and spoke with confidence. “Fear not, Bella Air relies on no generators. Every inch of her, along with every nut and bolt at my yard, is material of original properties, directly one generation from Earth. And never has this vessel given me, nor any passenger, the notion of failure.”

  Rose looked at Stanley deeply. “No malfunctions?”

  “Nope.”

  She replaced her concern with a smile, though her expression fell when she thought of her next query. “What about the Govern? What are they?”

  He sighed and paused before speaking. “Another Judge brought them here from a volcanic planet situated amongst a cluster of stars known as the Red River of Domino. The creatures are capable of devouring spirits. A species that I have had the misfortune to encounter more times than I dare speak of. We stay away at all times. Understood?”

  Rose nodded while Lily scrunched up her face.

  “Lily…?” he said, narrowing his eyes.

  She too nodded. “But they don’t frighten me. Nothing does.”

  “What do they look like?” asked Rose.

  Stanley was poised to describe his vision, but instead, he stood and walked over to a drawer. He took out a hand-sized wad of paper and sank back into his chair. “Come closer, this will give you an idea.”

  She knelt by his feet and he flipped through the pages. An image, black and slender, animated. It rose from the ground, wrapping its body of tentacles with bat-like wings to form an hourglass shape. The shadowy figure began to slither, like a sinister silent film.

  Rose pulled a face and took hold of the booklet, flipping the pages. “Did you make this?”

  “No. It was a gift. A story for another time, perhaps.”

  “I hope I never have to see one,” she said, handing back the pages that made her toes curl even more so than spiders.

  “Indeed. Should you ever come close to them, seek water. They can’t traverse it.”

  Rose nodded, storing Stanley’s wisdom, before she remembered a question that stirred her mind. “So this Ollus, why’s he not here any more?”

  Stanley expressed a troubled face. “Sadly, Ollus couldn’t remain our Judge. By the end of the last century he was overpowered by another.”

  Rose learned forward. “Another –”

  “Judge, Kiian, the one that renamed this world. The one that brought the Govern here.”

  “Have you seen him?” asked Lily.

  “Yes… and no. You see, the Judge is a species of pure soul. Any being can be possessed by a Judge and manipulated to his desire. He judges you in LV-426 – Life Vindication. He appears as an authority figure; usually the person you have the utmost respect for. When I died and travelled to LV, he appeared as my father.”

  Rose thought of her respected figure, before breaking the silence. “So the Govern, they are also ruled by Kiian?”

  “Yes. At least that’s our understanding. Kiian is by no means the worst ruler this world has ever witnessed. Nor is he the best.”

  “Why?” asked Rose.

  “Many have criticised the laws he imposes and manipulates. Kiian is a Judge in pursuit of the greats, regardless of their mindset. Even Hitler lurks somewhere within our sectors.”


  “I’ve heard of him. He had a lot of people killed,” said Rose.

  Stanley nodded. “It’s well documented that Kiian sees the human race as an inferior species. The fact that no one has reached another planet amuses him. But I dare say we’ll travel to the moon and back. Why the moon, that’s only a stepping-stone for humanity’s exploration. The universe awaits!”

  Rose smiled, admiring Stanley’s intoxicating affection. She then remembered: “There were protestors amongst a crowd, not far from your tower. Some held signs … banish life extensions, or something. Is that against Kiian?”

  “Ah, yes. You must have witnessed the Einstein Tour.”

  “That’s him. I remember now, Albert Einstein.”

  “A great man. Though the protesters would rather he be treated like most. You see, in the eyes of the Judge, Einstein possesses many more years of discovery. Even Kiian doesn’t know or understand everything. I believe he was given twenty years of extended life – if I remember correctly.”

  “How about you? Any extension?”

  “Me? Bah, not a chance. And not likely having met you two,” he said, with a sly smile. “Well, not to matter, I don’t believe in extending life.”

  “But what happens when you die here?” asked Lily.

  Stanley gave a smile and a hum. “One of life’s perpetual questions. We simply don’t know.”

  Buuurrrm…

  Rose held herself with embarrassment.

  “Now, either you’re hungry,” said Stanley, “or your stomach is upset.”

  Rose smiled. “A little, I guess – hungry that is.”

  “It’s just as well I took stock at CK-211, commonly known as the Chocolate Kingdom.” Stanley opened a storage compartment, taking a handful of confectionery and tossed a bar over to Rose.

  “Thanks,” she said, and began to tuck into the glossy bar, trying to withhold her delighted groans.

  Lily expressed zero interest, unaware of how those brown shapes of joy tasted, or any food for that matter. She folded her arms and watched Brunel doze on his perch.

  “All this talking has left me famished,” said Stanley. “I’ll prepare something more substantial soon.”

  Rose nodded, with more questions bubbling up in her mind. Later, she thought, the chocolate was too divine.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Life, Death and Spirit of Stanley Hopkins

  She had seen the house before: a large Victorian, lit with the brightest Christmas lights on the street. She held a basket on her arm as she glimpsed at the wonder of an inventor’s workshop; a home for a boy.

  Over the frost-covered drive of fifty-one Crescent Avenue, the woman heard a man sing. She peeked through the crack of a door. The man sat in a workshop with his back to her, measuring a clock. She then placed her special delivery at the front door on a bitterly cold Christmas Eve in England, nineteen nineteen.

  * * *

  Day and night, Henry Hopkins crafted his magical machines. He had spent the past three decades with his hands on them. At the age of forty, he had worked alongside many greats that helped turn the tide of World War One, co-developing a new military contraption: the tank. A heavily armoured vehicle on caterpillar tracks, it provided protection from enemy fire and also carried much needed water, concealed within water tanks.

  Surrounded by the history of his marvels, Henry didn’t finish the cuckoo clock on the eve of Christmas, as predicted. Instead, his attention was diverted outside, where a sound of need beckoned. Upon investigation, Henry discovered a basket in which lay a baby wrapped in a blue blanket; a colour the baby’s skin would have turned had Henry not heard his cry.

  “Catherine! Catherine! Could you spare a moment?”

  “Yes, Henry, what is the matt– oh my…”

  “He was outside. Look, there’s a note.”

  Henry took hold of the note. It read:

  Please give me a life; my mother cannot.

  I will be forever grateful.

  PS My name is Stanley. I’m one month old today.

  * * *

  Aged six, Stanley watched his father tweak and maintain his beloved automobiles and gadgets, accompanied by the ticking of cuckoo clocks and their hourly chime, always on time. Henry christened them his Hopkins Hollers.

  An eccentric child, Stanley detested boundaries. He dreamt, and sometimes created those dreams. It began as a part-time hobby, gathering all he could in his father’s workshop. He eventually gained his very own sector: a whole six-foot radius of the shop floor he called Stanley Corp, a place where he would make things. It didn’t matter whether his invention worked or not. The learning process made up for his mishaps. So what if he blew up the toaster? “It burnt the bread anyway,” he said to his father. And shaving the cat with his Automatic Duel-motor Shaver. “Removed her fleas anyway,” he told Catherine, the housekeeper. Stanley did, however, feel sorry about that, as he watched poor Penny potter about in the snow without her fur coat. He made sure she had the tastiest treats whenever he could steal them; he always cared for the vulnerable.

  * * *

  On Stanley’s tenth birthday, his life took on a definitive direction. The first time he boarded an Avro Avian sparked his love of planes and a passion to pilot someday. From that moment, Stanley was hooked. He spent every shilling on plane merchandise. He watched Hell’s Angels in theatres, and posters of aircrafts covered his room like wallpaper. One poster stood out from the rest – it was of an aviator called Amelia Earhart. She was his first childhood crush.

  * * *

  Childhood to adulthood was a blurry merge for Stanley. He became an outsider; not one for parties, dating or the usual lifestyle of young Englishmen during the 1930s. His passion for science, engineering and aviation was always at his core.

  At the age of sixteen, his hobby had turned into a full-time job and he worked alongside his father. No longer just an errand boy.

  Then, aged eighteen, Stanley lived the dream. His proud father witnessed his son take to the sky in an Avro Tutor. Stanley was the captain, and he piloted the biplane with proficiency.

  “Son, you flew like a Hopkins Holler!” bellowed Henry once Stanley had landed.

  He removed his goggles, revealing a face covered in dirt; a sight all too familiar. “Huh?” he uttered.

  “Precision, son. A Hopkins never misses a beat.”

  “Did you see me loop?”

  His father gave Stanley a strong pat on the back along with a shoulder squeeze. “Sure did, son. Sure did.”

  * * *

  September 3, 1939. The Second World War began. Everything changed.

  The Luftwaffe planes flew over the British Isles, attacking the southern defences. Squadron 94 was sent to the sky. Stanley, recruited by the Royal Air Force, flew amongst the fleet under moonlight. He shot down an enemy, then two. If not for a fellow pilot, he may have secured a hat-trick on his first sky battle.

  * * *

  Seated in the cockpit of his Hurricane, Stanley took to the sky for the fifth time within two weeks into a battle that raged over Calais, France. Bullets ripped through the air, rupturing his fuel tank. “Mayday! Mayday! Shot tail, going down over Calais! C’mon, up, up!”

  The Hurricane careered towards the ground. Stanley managed to belly-flop the undercarriage onto the white sandy beach.

  Upon opening his eyes, he was greeted by German voices.

  * * *

  As a prisoner of war, Stanley met a man at the concentration camp by the name of Douglas Bader. The pilot had lost both his legs, but before being captured he had commanded Squadron 242. Bader fought for what he believed in – freedom.

  Stanley spent three months cooped up within the camp. Had it not been for the attack of British Squadron 183, he would have stayed until the war had run dry.

  * * *

  Within six months of Stanley leaving the camp, the British and international squadrons took to the Battle of Britain: a ferrous aerial attack by the German Luftwaffe.

  Stanley flew his Hurri
cane and gunned down four enemies, then chased a Messerschmitt BF-110, outmaneuvering the Germans with ease. But then Stanley’s brilliance fell short. One second, that’s all it took to shred his left wing. Flames reflected in Stanley’s eyes; he was going down, fast, and so he reached for the ejector lever for a speedy exit.

  It was jammed.

  Stanley’s luck had gone up in smoke, and prior to his exit on Earth, he said his final words. “The holler… The holler…”

  * * *

  Jaded by losing in battle – letting down his country, squadron and father, Stanley walked Kiian’s sectors like a lost soul. The days merged, and he searched for answers. All he could think about were his last moments on Earth, and worst of all, his father’s disappointment.

  Within a breath and heartbeat, the answer droned overhead. Stanley stood and gazed to the sky. He watched a delivery craft. It didn’t leave the sector; no air vessel ever ventured beyond the safety of the sectors. Stanley thought about his father, and seeing him again someday. If such a day occurred, he would make him proud by flying a vessel though the spirit atmosphere, something yet to be achieved by spiritkind. He closed his eyes, smiling, before reality waded in, dragging him firmly down from his lofty ambitions. One step at a time, he thought.

  His exploration took him far and wide across Kiian. The first time he set eyes upon Sector IR-294, the sight reignited the fire in his belly like no other. He was well and truly in this element, in the time when “men were men” – the golden age of the Industrial Revolution. He rejoiced at the prospect of construction within the domain of change and possibility. Stanley was home.

  With the blueprints drawn, production began on the first air vessel. The initial attempt looked somewhat plane-like; it indeed flew like a plane, but remaining airborne wasn’t its strength.

  Excited as ever, Stanley redesigned his creation, called Amelia Air. It looked like a cross between a pirate vessel and a spaceship. Twin sails adorned the mast, with a long stern and two large circular engines at her side, pioneered for uniting tremendous forces within Angelo physics. A professor helped Stanley with that.