Maryanland, September 24, 2040, 3:45 PM
Back-to-school shopping has an almost haunting aura when you realize where you'll use said supplies. And that's precisely why I am not bringing any materials to the tutoring session I'm heading to. Although education holds itself at a grand value, that doesn't mean that school doesn't scare the shit out of me.
I had a geometry teacher who told us about a student who never wrote notes. All he would do when the teacher asked him about his lack of writing notes was to point at his head. To his unfortunate underestimation, he did not pass a single test.
I'm hoping I won't resemble that student because I have to pay attention to whatever Vega Flynn says.
That still sounds so fucking unfamiliar.
Talk about a motivation to get over and done with this as soon as possible.
I might as well pass out the next time I address Sirius Flynn as Vega Flynn.
V. Flynn is what I will call him today. Easy for the mouth, that's what she said, and I don't have to remind myself that he's brainwashed into this identity. Anyway, I found the courage to message V. Flynn to meet today. He impressed me with his fast reply and immediate compliance.
Not to be that person, but was he perhaps waiting for my message?
You sound delusional.
Stop talking, please.
Thoughts about my predicament made me quicken my pace to reach my destination quicker. The faster I get there, the shorter the time I will have to think.
But, maybe I am like that student who failed every test by underestimating my mind. Bitch is quick to overthink.
Jokes about how I'm in a fake love triangle make me laugh out loud. Glad it's rush hour, and no one gives a fuck about whatever's around them. That'd be peculiar to explain.
I find it funny that V. Flynn flirts with me while Sirius Flynn and I are what we are. Can't believe I'm saying this, but I better not get Flynn's hopes up.
Hopes for what, I don't know. But I'll tone down my automatic responses to flirting. The worst scenario is I get the fake version of Flynn to like me. Being brainwashed doesn't sound like my type of quality in a person, no, thank you.
True to my words, my little legs take me to my destination in half the time. All it takes is motivation, and your body is on it. I'm now standing in front of the oh-so-familiar Vega home of the Jamils. True to their last name, they sure are beautiful people. Last names that mean something other than a name are always a cute touch.
I perform my routine of knocking on the door with a hesitant hand. Except my nerves feel heavier on my shoulders today because tree Flynn isn't here. I told him he didn't have to come with me, and he agreed after a few minutes of convincing. He had work anyway, and we both knew he can't miss that.
I experienced an eye-opening event while visiting the Image World for Malak's birthday the other day. The image of a guard beating someone on the street for getting to work late has engraved itself into my worst nightmares. I can't forget how the poor man writhed on the floor. It hasn't left my mind, no matter how hard I try to erase it. To not look suspicious or have someone point out that they did not recognize me, I ran into their home while shouting about what happened to the man. Flynn and khalto took care of him while I stayed inside with Malak. I cannot imagine or handle seeing Flynn get treated like that. So I pushed him to go to work as if my life depended on it.
So yeah, he's not here, and I'm suffering the consequences of my actions.
Deep breath in, deep breath out, you'll be fine.
Go with the flow, but work to control the flow, so it doesn't leak overboard.
Yeah, I'll do that.
The door opens and the sight of a teenage version of Malak reminds me she isn't the person I'm used to seeing.
Unlike the Malak I'm used to, she doesn't like me that much. From not speaking more than necessary to me to the glares she thinks go unnoticed.
I help both of us by making this brief, but damn. Seeing her standing almost to my height makes me miss her younger self.
"Uh, good afternoon, is Flynn ready?"
She narrows her eyes, but still mutters a curt reply, letting me know she'll call him over.
And that's all I saw of her before her brother came into my view.
Unlike his sister, my presence at least makes him smile. But I wonder why his sister has an attitude toward me. It's okay, I'm not known to be likable.
Doesn't mean that it justifies her behavior, but I have other matters to worry about more than my tainted reputation.
I watch V. Flynn put his shoes on. When he comes to a stand, I notice our color-coordinated outfits. He acknowledged it by exchanging glances from my outfit to his.
We're both wearing forest green shirts and black pants. With my shirt being cropped and pants a high-waisted mom jeans number, his a t-shirt and cargo pants.
Okay, telepathy.
"We must be telepathic," he speaks to my mind like the mind reader he is. Maybe the brainwashing didn't affect him too much, both Flynns can mind read.
"You're correct," I nod my head in agreement.
Once he puts his life's worth of belongings in one of his pockets, he looks at me, and I take that as a cue for us to leave.
Maybe it's my brain reminding me of his surname, or feelings of discomfort within me, but walking with this Flynn feels an awful lot different.
Sirius Flynn carries a protective yet kind vibe with him, but Vega Flynn doesn't. I feel full, in every way possible, with the Flynn I'm used to. Vega Flynn feels empty to both see and be around. It's not his fault, even if he's the same person. Blame it on everything that led them to this point.
"I've been wanting to visit your clinic to see you, but work always makes it hard to do so with my packed schedule."
Awe shut the fuck up, that's so cute.
"It's okay, prioritize your work, we can see each other whenever else," I hope that's an appropriate response.
"Yes we can," he nods, smiling.
Okay, time for research, sorry V. Flynn.
"So, tell me more about your job, I don't know many people that work where you do. That place has always intrigued me."
Truth and lies.
"Think about it as the root of where everything on this planet originates from."
Talk about the best explanation ever. No book synopsis I've read lured me in the way his words did. And we're not even reading.
Scratch what I said, I am intrigued as fuck.
"Can you tell me more about that, or is this confidential information?"
Sounding suspicious has become a hobby of mine.
"Some of it is, all I can tell you is that whatever system we have on this planet and the hidden falls under the control of that building."
Hah, he slipped a word he should not have said.
I'll still be careful, it could be a tactic to lure me in.
"The hidden?" I ask, tilting my head.
His eyes widen a fraction of a second before he composes himself. "Yeah, it's common to speculate about secret projects led by the government."
Shit, he's right. But I can't help but think that the hidden thing he mentioned was the Image World.
From the little I remember of what we learned in high school about the history of Maryanland, I know officials of higher power are honest beyond repair. As hard as it is to believe, I don't doubt the honesty of their words. Whatever the problem, new information, warning, you name it, thousands of announcements will go off around Maryanland to inform us about the components of it.
Name it PTSD from leaving your native planet, at least for some of us.
Their honesty doesn't stop there, despite the abundant amount of discrimination against the Polaris group, they're honest with us peasants too.
Even those who don't give a fuck about people in power have a comprehensive list of every human, robot, or animal employed in the Official Home of Maryanland.
Yeah, animals work there. I've heard they have guard dogs on each floor, and the desire to see a dog never struck me harder. The things I would do to cuddle big dogs are crazy.
So, knowing that keeping up to date on knowledge is a common theme here, I'll bet my socks that my assumption falls correct. Also considering how Flynn, the real one, explained the day the banishment happened. Nothing about what he said hinted at it being a public event.
But, to cross out theories about the existence of other secrets, I ask, "any digits you can give me about that? I'm crazy about numbers," cue a fake laugh, and you got it.
Truly, an Oscar-deserving actress.
My laugh must have done half the job of convincing him because he narrows his eyes the slightest bit. "You're quite curious about something that has nothing to do with what I'm tutoring you about."
I shake my head, "for your information, you have not begun tutoring me yet. What we're talking about falls under casual talk between people getting to know each other. Well, not each other because you introduced an interesting topic and my curious self is curious about it. So, can you answer the question and I'll answer questions about my criminal record? I think that's a fair bargain." I raise my eyebrows, making myself look like someone who presented him with the world's best offer.
Flynn's steady steps come to a halt after hearing my statement. I cannot decipher whether the look in his eyes expresses his shock or fear.
"You have a criminal record?"
What is it with people and their tendencies to divert topics?
"Not the point, can you answer, I'm dying from curiosity here. Trust me, you do not want to carry me to the hospital if curiosity kills the cat."
I think he's too busy wondering where on Earth, or I should say Maryanland, he went wrong when deciding to speak with me to care about answering. It's okay because adjectives directed toward me sometimes land on the peculiar spectrum.
Doesn't make me any less great.
"I'll answer your question if you first tell me I am not walking around the streets of Detroit with a criminal."
"Well, if you consider five verbal public disputes, and making bullies uncomfortable with my excessive staring, that almost got me arrested as criminal activities, then you're fucked."
People being the bane of my existence will never be my fault. I'm not the dimwit who stares at strangers in public without a solid reason and makes fun of them to their faces.
Lyaly for her energetic nature.
Sapphire for their pronouns whenever they mention them.
Me because of my father's accident.
Instances of people insulting us either out loud or under their breath used to be a common occurrence. I always blamed myself because I knew the insults targeted towards my friends happened when people knew about their association with me.
It was by the fifth time that I wasted humiliating someone in public that they learned not to fuck with me, at least out loud. Fear isn't something I enjoy feeling or giving to others, but if someone messes with me for no reason, I have no regrets about taking matters into my own hands.
This has me questioning how many people Anna reached forward to when she was on her quest to make Maryanland's most hated person. I know Anna, and I know she doesn't have that many sources despite how much she likes to run her mouth. People might act this way for some sadistic fun, or someone is behind this.
And I might as well become brainless before I let a bitch insult me, or my friends. What I can't hear doesn't concern me, but I will paint myself all over the few that reach me.
If verbal fights and stare-downs make perpetrators feel an ounce of their attack, so be it.
My friends always bail me out of it.
Flynn's stiffened form catches my eye, and I hurry to explain. "Don't worry, it wasn't anything serious, just people being annoying to me and my friends. A few simple cases of me having no shame in talking back," I shrug.
Not mentioning names and specific traits of people other than me makes me feel better. I will lose my mind if Lyaly or Sapphire get involved in something they didn't sign up for. If guilt hasn't been a common routine for me because of dad, it sure will be if anyone I meet on this journey uses them as a weak point to get to me.
And I'm never letting that happen.
Yet, I'm the hypocrite for telling Flynn about them, and going as far as introducing him.
And for introducing yourself.
Give me a fake name that I could go by, I'm waiting.
Dwarfie Pluto?
No.
Saturn's Third Ring?
I'm a single woman.
Solar Flare?
Solar Flare, I mock my head in my inner voice.
"Well, since you had reasons, I'd say I'm proud of you for standing up for your friends and yourself."
Proud of you.
Wow, you don't hear that often.
Now's not the time to dwell on the negligence of my parents.
"Yeah, now that you know my deepest and darkest secret, answer my question."
"Well, my answer might disappoint you."
Wouldn't be the first time I felt disappointed, but I'll survive.
"As it functions for every system of people working in a building, each floor controls certain things. I work in the surveillance area, in fancy words, I monitor cameras in certain neighborhoods or buildings. There's a specific floor that most employees can't access. I've heard rumors about a secret project for a while now."
My eyes widen for a fraction of a second, "how long do you mean by a while?"
"I believe they started it someday during 2025," he dropped the words, not knowing the weight they had.
The year ten-year-old Flynn got banished along with his family and many others. I'd bet my life that the hidden project is the Image World. It makes sense why they'd keep it hidden. Seeing as no one, apart from the family members of those who got banished heard of the Image World. But shit, it puts things into a realistic perspective when realizing that to others, it's nothing but a mere project.
Wait, if they created the Image World, and hold it as dear, why do I have the projector?
Surely no inventor of a whole damn world would throw the tool of their creation like that without reason.
Makes me wonder if the projector has a much more sacred value or if it's a duplicate of an original.
This would undervalue its significance.
Either way, what the fuck?
I entertained Flynn for a while, asking questions about the mighty Theodore Silver and Maryanland. This session taught me that there wasn't jack shit I needed to learn because I knew it all. Damn, Maryanland doesn't have that much history behind it. But I now know I'd get a good score in case a cashier at a store asks my Polaris-identified self for a pop quiz. So, maybe I still win.
"Wait, so back to that project we were talking about earlier. You said that only a few people work on it? Do you know who they are?"
Maybe I've seen them in some news article somewhere. Not that I read any, but it's worth a try.
"I don't know specific names, I've done multiple hunts of my own to figure it out as well, but always failed. My department uses about ten out of the 90 floors that make up the building. So nobody goes up that high unless they're from our section. But I see a distinct group of people go up to the higher most floors at certain times of the day."
"What do they look like?"
He's too engrossed in responding to feel suspicious about my endless questionnaire.
"I wouldn't be able to tell you, they always face away from any living soul. I've never seen them mentioned in the announcement videos that my section plays around the world. But I know that Mister Silver himself has an office up there."
Aha, they must be his accomplices.
Part of me keeps shouting about how the work we put into doing what we did today was useless.
I didn't learn information unknown or unexpected.
Even if that building has something to do with the creation of the Image World, there's no way in nonfiction or fiction that I will go in and investigate myself. I've never liked Dora, so I will never become her.
A frown I couldn't control pulls my mouth downwards.
Why do I feel like I've failed?
Like I've done everything, yet nothing at all.
Theodore Silver, the same man behind Maryanland, created Image World in 2025.
It would make sense to know that the man who put his youth into supporting a foreign planet is the same man who created a world to banish those that tried to disrupt the piece.
Even though that's the exact part that makes no sense. The protestors only had protective intentions against the invaders, so why punish them?
I fucking failed.
What do I do now? I have no rope to use as an apparatus to help anyone.
It's getting difficult to breathe with the growing weight in my chest.
Relax Azail, think about this with a fresh mind at a better time.
That was an excuse to engage in small talk with Flynn. Our funny conversation about khalto waking him up by spilling a bucket of ice water on him distracted me from realizing the setting of my surroundings.
We now stand in front of the same building that was our conversation topic earlier. Also known as the building, that's the root of my stress at the moment. The reason I feel like the biggest failure ever. If I could flick the building off, I would. But that would be a hefty fine.
Yeah, they'd deadass give me a fine.
The cons of being a Polaris person.
"We meet again, my fair lady," an annoying voice speaks behind me.
At least Flynn's deep voice has a soft grumble that I appreciate, while this voice sounds deep and husky for the sake of it. Flynn puts this voice to shame.
I turn around to get a look at the culprit and widen my eyes once I recognize the familiar menace. The guy that more or less violently plummeted onto Flynn and me at this location not too long ago.
"Oh, hi! I recognize you from our unfortunate first encounter," the blondie spoke. Sorry, seeing Lyaly every day has programmed me into calling every yellow-haired person a blondie.
Giving him the fakest social smile I could manage, I say, "oh yeah, really unfortunate."
A dress from someone's Rococo-era wardrobe would look fitting right about now.
Flynn clears his throat, and that's when the organ beating in my chest hastens its rhythm.
Shit, Flynn.
Thoughts about how I've met this person with different versions of identical people during our encounters freak me out.
If there was a time that I could get caught, it is now.
Every part of me wishes this guy isn't Curious George or else I'm fucked.
We all would be.
"What's your name?" he asks, doing the same head tilt my best friend used to do.
Stop, he's not him.
He can't be him.
"Azail, what's yours," I responded, placing my hand in his awaiting one for a greeting handshake.
He gives me the same smile my best friend used to when one corner of his mouth would bother to lift. But he didn't have to worry about looking genuine because his eyes always did the job.
The man standing in front of me has that same eye-telling smile.
There's no way he's-
"Noir."
Noir.
We both said at once, him out loud, me silent.
My body froze, and my face couldn't do anything because of the shock. Fake a smile, widen my eyes, tilt my head, I couldn't do anything.
Any earlier feelings of disappointment vanished but got replaced with a much worse feeling.
Longing.
Longing for my dead best friend made me see him in the person in front of me. Fucked up thoughts made me wish the person standing in front of me was my best friend and not his lookalike. Tears my dry eyes were keeping at bay held themselves and me back from hugging him. The desire to apologize with the longest, most complicated words made it difficult to remember how to interact.
Once I regain my composure by imagining penguins, I speak.
"Oh, nice," yeah, the correct choice of words.
Something resembling recognition widens his eyes to the most unnoticeable, but I catch it.
The look in his eyes left soon as it came. Noir did a gesture that would look like an eye roll to others, but I know it isn't. It's the slight eye roll one does to shake off thoughts they weren't supposed to have. And by that, I don't mean dirty or inappropriate ones, but ones that feel strange, like imagining a massacre occurring at a busy park.
Something along those lines.
Intrusive thoughts, that's what I'm looking for.
I wonder what his thoughts held, but that's none of my business.
"What were you guys doing here?"