A Minute In Infinity

1. Strange Visions

Ryan opened his eyes slowly, squinting when bright light shone in his face. The curtains were pushed aside, letting sun brighten the room. A glance at his clock told him it was 7:58AM, just minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off. He reached over, turned off the alarm, and pushed aside the bed sheets.

The wood floor numbed his feet with cold, but Ryan ignored the feeling as he padded over to his mirror and stared at his reflection with bleary eyes. Middling brown hair stuck up at all angles on his head. He'd never been quite able to tame it, but cutting it short usually helped. Ryan fingered a lock — perhaps he should get a hair cut. Dusty hazel eyes stared back at him as he tried to flatten his hair, and failed.

Yawning, Ryan grabbed a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a brown hoodie with orange trim and headed to the bathroom to get changed. Once he'd finished, he leaned over the bathroom sink, automatically grabbing his father's razor and shaving cream. His mind worked on automatic as he started to lather, but then he stopped, eyes snapping wide open.

Why was he trying to shave? He was twelve years old, and he hadn't hit puberty yet. He didn't even know how to shave.

Embarrassed, he washed off his hands and face, then ran a comb through his hair. His reflection looked more presentable now, though his hair was still messier than he would've liked. The recruiters didn't care about looks, but he wanted to present a favorable image of himself to them. He didn't want them to think he was only a small-town country boy, lacking in talent and training.

He looked himself over again, and absently, he rubbed at his jawline, feeling for a ridged scar. Except there was none; his cheek felt smooth and soft to the touch. Ryan stared back at his reflection and lowered his hand. His eyes flickered in the light as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Common sense told him that he was just tired, and that his brain needed a wake-up call. Something pressed at the back of his mind that told him otherwise.

"What am I doing?" he muttered, zipping up his hoodie. Ryan made a detour and grabbed his watch from his room, tightening it around his wrist so it was snug. He pushed aside his thoughts and headed downstairs. The smell of bacon and eggs filtered through the house, and as he entered the kitchen, his mother turned around to face him. Kathy Phillips gave her son a brilliant smile before turning back to her cooking.

"Morning," she said cheerily. Kathy read Ryan's surprised look and chuckled. "Recruitment test day. Thought I'd make something special for you," she explained.

Ryan nodded. "Thank you," he said, grabbing a glass from the fridge and finding the orange juice powder in the cupboard. Fresh groceries had upped in price ever since the climate started to collapse and resources started dwindling rapidly. Nowadays, it was common to eat freeze dried food, canned fruits and vegetables, or the protein rations that came in silver foil and plastic packaging and carried some sort of stew-like cold paste. None of those options were particularly appetizing, but it sustained them. To have eggs that weren't powdered was something of a luxury for common folk.

Ryan's family didn't farm, but they'd gotten a couple of chickens a while back, and so they ate eggs regularly. They sold them to neighboring families, which helped with keeping their household afloat. Ryan's father was a college professor and Kathy an elementary school nurse, and together, their salaries made enough to have a comfortable life in the town of Norris.

Ryan poured the orange-colored powder into his glass, then turned on the tap and filled it with water. He sloshed his drink around for a few seconds before taking a sip. The orange juice tasted fake and overly sweet, which was odd because it was his favorite drink.

He eyed it with scrutiny. "Mom, was this always so sweet?" he asked.

Kathy glanced at him before piling eggs on a plate. "I thought you liked sweets," she replied. She set the pan in the sink, then brought over their breakfast. Ryan pulled back his chair and took a seat, putting his drink down on the table.