by Marc Mulero
“And here I thought I was the smart one,” Ovar joked.
The scene faded, and a new one emerged. Years had passed, their armaments were refined, Ovar let his lion-like hair grow back, and the Swul’s armor was glorious. Music blasting throughout the dome was triumphant, theatrical, powerful. And as a finale, Proctor Vasa returned into view with her two blades drawn, activating green Crule alongside the historical figures and killing the light one more time to the students’ grand applause.
All of them stood almost immediately for the two-period long presentation that rocked their world and inspired their hearts.
Herim Vasa twirled her blades artfully and took a bow, the assistants following her lead. She looked prideful that the noise didn’t die for a good half a minute, likely counting the seconds as a rating to her performance.
“What happened to them?” a student blurted without raising her hand.
Vasa understood the excitement. “That is a story for another time, Cetrine. Enjoy the rest of your day and reflect upon all that you’ve just seen. In our next meeting, we will discuss the controversies of this history, and then proceed to our first practical lesson this semester.”
Chapter 9
Creatures
The two strolled out of War Tech class gleaming with delight like they’d just finished a satisfying theatrical show. And right before Eres could start recalling his favorite scenes, a lightbulb went off in Windel’s head. She gasped, held up a finger, and began rummaging through her bag. He looked on inquisitively, forgetting all of his previous thoughts until both sets of eyes followed a metal device the size of her thumb emerging from her sack. She inspected it with fondness - eyebrows knitted, dimple forming from her cute smile. She was lost in thought for a moment before she straightened her arm, offering the contraption to Eres.
“Uh, mind sharing what’s going on in there?” He pointed to her head.
She scoffed playfully. “You first, Eres from just beyond Dolseir. Don’t think your little cues are lost on me.” She shoved the device to his chest and let go so it would fall into his hand. “This is an old UBS, or underground beacon system… you know, so we can communicate. Everyone calls them ‘oobs’ in Kor. I had this one since I was a year-four, so please be nice to it.”
“Oh, c’mon Windel.”
“Windy.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can’t take this. It’s clearly precious to you.”
She ignored the obvious and continued on, “It works by using your finger to create letters in Universal, short messages, and then you click this little bu-” She noticed him looking at it cluelessly and snatched it from his hand. “Oh give me that.” Windel then tugged him by his shirt so their heads were nearly touching. “This little button dispatches the message by pulse, into the underground system that you saw me studying when we first met. Obviously, you have to pick a sender.” She navigated the small device so fast that Eres could hardly keep up. “Here, this is me. It will find my oobs’ frequency and shoot the message to its location. The only time it doesn’t work is if there isn’t piping within a mile vicinity. So like, deep in the forest, or desolate areas. Otherwise, its reach is pretty good.”
Eres blinked hard. “Ugh, I thought we just got out of tech class.”
Windel poked his ribs and said, “Shut up. Okay, I’m sending.”
As soon as she pressed the button, she grabbed Eres’ wrist so they both would feel the small, barely noticeable vibration pulsing from her hand and down to the ground. Almost immediately, another pulse climbed them to signal that her other newer oob received the message.
“Get it?”
“I think so. Thanks.” Eres gazed at the device.
“Now you don’t have to go searching aimlessly the next time you want to see me and Mun.” She winked as they both reached the spiral that was to bring them down from the high arena.
Eres was embarrassed at his own stupidity. How could he have told her that he was looking for her the day prior?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Did she think him pathetic, lonely? Exposed again, he could feel the heat flushing his tan skin a little bit lighter, but could only hope she wasn’t keen to it.
“So where to now?” They stopped at the spiral.
“Back to Academic, to Journey of Generations,” he said sadly.
“Ugh, the worst! You’re going to learn a lot about ellosay, and the anatomy of each race, but get ready for Obrun bashing. Which proctor?”
Eres winced to show that he was repulsed by the idea, mostly because he knew that he’d never be able to participate in any of it, considering he didn’t have a sex. “Hundul.”
“Oh man, good luck. She hates sexless barrens, and thinks they should all be tied up and shipped to the Verglas Sphere. Welp, anyway, I’m staying in Practical for Advanced Carrier Training. Don’t be jealous!”
He snickered at her as she squeezed his arm to say bye.
“You know where to go, right?” she asked.
“Transfer to the bridge on section five to get back to the Academic Wing, yep.”
“Oooh, fast learner.”
Eres shook his head as he watched Windel zoom away to her next class, then proceeded to his.
The high he got from History of War Tech was like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart, but it was already beginning to fade. He knew deep down that there was no way any proctor would be able to top that, and even if they had, Windel wouldn’t be there to share the experience.
“Ugh,” he sighed, “the highlight of Kor already passed, huh?”
Eres sulked his way to section five, head down in thought, as usual, until something immense overcame him. The bridge that his map had shown him was glorious in person. He could do nothing but marvel at its vastness: the large curved windows that climbed all the way up to a pointed spire - letting in beams of cloudy light as though the heavens were peeking in to watch students transfer to their next classes – the hundreds of bodies rustling back and forth, the muffled noise of endless chatter below him. He’d never been inside such a structure before, nor had he ever been able to enjoy a view so high up.
Wow, he thought, face lifted to the ceiling as he continued to walk, until he suddenly felt the air knocked from his chest. Before he knew it, he was on his back, looking up to see a mop of black hair, piercing blue eyes, and the most wicked smirk he’d ever seen.
“Just can’t seem to stay out of my way, can you, Eres?” Crow’s voice sounded scratchy, like he’d been yelling the entire night before. “Don’t look around, the Swuls aren’t here to save you this time.”
Eres froze for a moment, considering whether he would be able to get up without being kicked back down. One student behind him bent to help him up, but Crow’s eyes communicated murder, leaving the boy to back slowly away.
He winced again, feeling stuck physically and mentally, until an image of Agden bursting through the clouds popped into his head, then the tale of Illiad, then Ovar with his two double-sided blades rushing into battle. A surge of courage shot him back onto his feet like a body possessed, landing him nose to nose with the boy who seemed to be tethered to him. And what overcame him next, Eres had no idea.
“Tell me, Crow, is it me you have a crush on, or are you just upset that I’m talking to Windel?”
Eres immediately braced for a head-butt, or a punch to the gut, but to his surprise, he got something worse – a mocking, cynical laugh.
“Such a simple, delicate fansa. Don’t you get it? You have to earn your right to be here! And I don’t buy your story, orphan. There’s no stock house in Ingora that would ever breed something so weak. You would’ve died at birth in mine.” Crow circled Eres like a hyena playing with its food. “You don’t belong here. You don’t belong anywhere.” He spat in Eres’ face.
He overheard Windel and I talking on Meeting Day. That has to be it. Now it makes sense. He’s a real orphan, and knows that I’m just a pretender. I… deserve his anger. What was my ooma thinking giving
me that backstory? Crow is right to hate me.
Intimidation was working. Every time Eres found an ounce of confidence, Crow doubled down in aggressiveness. He wiped the wet patch of saliva from his face to notice Crow shift his narrowed eyes quickly from Eres’ to someone else, before turning his back on him.
“Crawl back to where you came from, liar.”
Eres about-faced quickly to see what it was that made Crow back off, and to his surprise, a daunting proctor was making his way past the bridge, the very same that had been observing them the day he was made a fool of. His pointed chin was more pronounced up close, and his scraggily hair waved like a weeping willow in the wind as he strode.
“Proctor Wudon,” he murmured to himself, “what are the chances that he would show up again when I’m about to fight?”
Maybe he’s the one that my fata sent to watch over me. No. I can’t suspect everybody that I se-
His thought was cut off when Wudon’s good eye lingered on him as they crossed paths. He felt a shiver trickle down his spine like ice cold water. A solid, unwavering frown was frozen on the proctor’s face while he turned to inspect. And then the moment was over, leaving the suns’ rays to come back into focus like a storm had just passed.
Eres adjusted the bag around his shoulder and carried on to Generations class, head down in shame once more. This time he took a seat closest to the window, wanting to be around as few people as possible so he could wallow in his misery. He was an imposter after all. There was no need for a crowd to taunt him in real time again; they were already alive in his head.
“Scholars!” A woman burst into the room, hurrying to her desk before the overload of books she was carrying slipped from her grasp. A loud huff sounded when she made it, and then she looked up, pleasantly surprised to see the entire room filled. “Excuse my tardiness! Yes, yes, settle down please. I assume my PA assigned you the proper material?” She paused to look for a couple of nods, and when satisfied, said, “Excellent.”
All eyes were fixed on the gloriously beautiful Proctor Hundul. Young with flowing blond hair and perfect skin, she looked as though she could’ve been a Year 14 in Kor, not even twenty Ingora years old. It was in this instance that Eres thought Windel could be mad – or jealous, maybe, of her beauty - because this proctor didn’t appear to have a bad bone in her body.
“Pssst!”
Eres looked around, startled.
“Wow, you really are in outer space today if you don’t notice a Dagos sitting right behind you!” Mundella whispered loudly.
“Mustae, you’re right! I’m so sorry, Mun. It’s been a crazy day so far.”
“No worries, catch up after class.” He patted Eres twice on the shoulder and leaned back.
Even the bright presence of his new proctor couldn’t save Eres from himself. He was still shaken from Crow’s blindsided bash, still rattled by his words. It felt as though people could see right through him… he wasn’t selling his secret identity in the slightest. But how could he? All he knew was how to live in his head, like he was now.
In between thoughts his senses returned to him – to the sight of Hundul cracking open an oversized diagram-driven book.
“You are all young, much like my first lecture group last semester. It was a miracle that I could keep them from giggling for at least half the class, but I have to ask to please try to refrain!” She twitched when the book nearly toppled forward, which kicked off the first round of muffled laughter. “That, you can laugh about.” She smiled. “Okay, okay, to begin, we will understand each of the races that inhabit our planet, their ability to reproduce, and the roles that each gender plays based on statistical studies. Uemons are composed of male and female…”
Eres trailed off, staring out into the distance and thinking back to Proctor Vasa’s class. He wondered how important it would be for a Skrol to wield a weapon, to be donned in Glite armor like his father.
But why would they need protection? Who were they fighting before this menace, Seren Night? He’s only one man, so what makes him such a terrible threat? So far, according to class, the wars are over. Besides crime, everything seems to be about professions, the Colliding Spheres, politics. What am I missing?
His breath suddenly caught in his chest when a cloud formed outside of the window below him, to his left. A storm… maybe, just maybe, his father was coming to see him. He was off his seat now, abrupt enough to grab Mun’s attention, but if he was being addressed, he couldn’t hear it.
“Never had an aerial view of a storm before,” he whispered to himself, noting the colors that were quickly beginning to burst like roman candles at a fireworks show. “Fata… plesus su baeo… please come back.”
“Oh,” Hundul spoke in Eres’ direction, “It seems we have a storm brewing. Weather readers spoke to it being a tiny one, but yes, please follow this boy and begin closing the windows.” She motioned to him. “As I was saying. Although the typical span of pregnancy is about two hundred and eighty days, or just over half a year for uemon and Dagos, an Eplon pregnancy can take up to four years. And although the ellosay roles of uemon and Dagos, or as some refer to them - the first races are very similar, the Eplons are opposite. It is the women who often seek the men here…”
Eres trailed off again, desperately wishing that his father would send him some kind of signal, eager that he was waiting outside to gift him more knowledge of his journeys, to provide more comfort for his son’s future. He couldn’t pay attention any longer; all of his focus was on each spurt of color that he prayed was Agden bursting through the clouds. Frantic glances to the window occurred every few seconds. He longed for guidance that didn’t have to do with Gushda and Rudo, the Eternal and physical worlds that Lorfa preached of, for he didn’t believe it. But nothing came. No signs, no flenos boots or impellers, just spurts of rain that began to shoot upward to fog all the windows and keep Eres away from his daydreams.
“Yes, Patris, the Forgotten Race went extinct ages ago. It is said that the lifestyle of the First Races, uemon-kind and Dagos, is what drove the Kujins into their spiral. Some will tell you it was the dawn of technology that brought a race of ‘Sorcery’ to its knees, and that magic dies by the hand of science. Though as a scholar of physiology and its effects between races, I’m inclined to believe that it was the Kujins’ obscure reproductive method and aftereffects that took them under. The only complex organism that carried on its legacy by fission, that is, by splitting into two, left some nasty horrors for the Kujins. They quickly realized how terrible it was while cohabiting with the First Races. You see, a Kujin had no gender, no choice to procreate, for it was simply decided by nature, Mustae, Gushda’s gods, or whatever it is that guides us… that it was time for a Kujin to sacrifice its memory and identity to become two new beings. Any of the surviving races would think this a cruel fate, because that’s what it was to creatures with more fortunate genetic makeups. And so, over time the Kujins’ leaders that once were content with the wheel of fate, a lack of control, became obsessed with the idea of choice, and devoted time, resources, and teachings to a new way of life - the way of the First Races. And when it became clear that there was no safe way to curtail fission, they slowly fell, lost, aimless, and perished where they started, in the Verglas Sphere, buried by the layers of snow that they emerged from.”
Eres’ face scrunched in disagreement. This was a topic that was known to him, but whether his materials were fiction or real, he was now questioning. After deciding it was a good idea to stop obsessing about Agden, he decided to raise his hand instead.
“Yes.” Proctor Hundul motioned for his name.
“Eres. In A Suffocated Flame, I read that there was a concoction that was said to reverse the fission process before it truly took hold, so long as the drink was taken before the first signs of change. ‘God’s Grasp’ I think it was called.”
The proctor was impressed. She looked at him blankly, at a loss for words for enough time to make the class uncomfortable. “I’m stunned th
at a year-seven knows such a deep interpretation of Kujin’s history. Impressed really. I hadn’t learned of God’s Grasp until Advanced Academia of Generation’s study. Usually the Kujins are an afterthought to your generation. Regardless, I was taught that the author of A Suffocated Flame, Ooganie Prince, tells tall tales that are integrated with real sufferance that took place throughout history. And that is the widely held belief regarding this matter. But thank you, Eres, for a great inquiry. I don’t think I shall be forgetting your name anytime soon.”
Eres felt a warm feeling in his heart, like he did something that mattered for this first time that day. Mundella even leaned forward and said, “You’re full of surprises, homeschool. Nice.”
Hundul dove into her auburn-colored sun robes and pulled her timekeeper, giving Eres the impression that she wasn’t as measured and experienced as the other proctor’s he’d encountered so far. Nevertheless, she had gained his full attention, and felt a part of something Windel was so sure he’d hate.
“With all of the races covered, we will spend our final minutes touching upon a controversial topic. The sexless barrens, Obruns, or Dawns.” She opened one of the oversized books to a page showing the anatomy of a Dawn and rested it over her chest, and then proceeded to peruse the rows of students to give them a better look. “These scarred creatures have been a topic of debate since the First Races could communicate.”
Creatures?
All of the warmth that lingered within Eres’ body was sucked out, leaving him with a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Born without reproductive tools, these beings have a shallow legacy, a false start. Their parents are generally disgraced for producing a barren. Most believe that they have wronged the universe in some way when they are cursed with one. There are proper channels, though, to ensure that a Dawn grows up with some semblance of education. For generations they were simply discarded, left in the forest for Mustae to take back what it had given. But thankfully, we live in a civilized time. No one deserves death merely for being born in an unfavorable manner.”
