Stunned by the name, I dropped the two pieces of the shard, which sounded a heavy thump against the workshop's floor; however, the thick layer of sawdust kept it from shattering into anymore pieces.
"Mike. He was trying to find Mike," I said in blank disbelief.
"Avian, what are you talking about?" Jasper asked, shaking his head while bending to pick up the invaluable pieces.
"The person my father was trying to find was Nicholas Michaels," I replied, hoping the verbal thoughts would gel to form answers. "He was one of my best friends."
Jasper turned his head slightly, not breaking his stare with me. "One of your best friends? When you were a child?" I nodded with an insistence. "Listen to me. That's just not possible. Your father would not have been threatened by a child." He placed the shard back in its oval-shaped metal case and leaned against the dark finished desk with his hands. "In his frenzy, he mentioned a Nicholas Michaels, so I ran it through all report archives. You need to believe me when I say that person does not exist."
"So, you're saying this is all in my imagination?" I asked with discouragement. "I dreamt up the same person my father happened to be searching for?"
Jasper sighed, seeing the defeat run down my face. "There's a way we can find out."
I followed him out of the shop and back into the mind-twisting Escheron. Scaling walls, ceilings, and staircases with the touch of a penrose was slowly becoming easier.
"You're a quick study," Jasper said with a grin. "Maestro doesn't like to admit it, but he was on his ass for a week when he first got here."
We continued on to the twelfth level, moving underneath an archway built with a chiseled granite, much different than the spotted black granite walls of the Escheron. This rock had a calming, flaked pattern of several shades of blue. The archway opened into a white pentagonal room. In each corner, a column of the same serene blue rock stood, holding the translucent ceiling which lessened the intensity of the specks of bright light above it. Surrounding every column, bronze pedestals in the shape of a stretched spring were arranged—some topped with a penrose; however, these orbs were not illuminated. At the center of this room, a delicately carved fountain filled the space with its soothing trickling sound. Jasper sat on the knee-high wall encircling the elegant fountain.
"I want you to choose a penrose," he said, looking around the room. "You will know the right choice."
I began walking to every column, examining with my eyes each penrose. Even though none radiated with a glow, I was afraid to touch them, fearing the unknown direction it might send me. I could only see my distorted reflection in the stained glass facets. I wasn't certain how I would know which would be the right choice. I was running out of options, almost back to where I began. The next one I looked into didn't have my reflection. I saw my mother. I shut my eyes and shook my head. The bent image of myself was staring back. She wasn't there.
"You okay, Avian?" Jasper asked.
"This one," I said, pointing. "I choose this one."
"Fantastic," Jasper said, jumping to his feet. "Pick it up. You're going to smash it."
Abruptly, I turned to him, completely confused. "I'm going to what?"
"You're going to take that penrose and throw it into the pool of the fountain," Jasper directed. "The water's shallow, so one good throw, straight down, should do the trick."
I carefully lifted the penrose off of the bronze pedestal with both hands. I moved toward the fountain, each step slower and smaller than the last. At the wall of the fountain, I looked down at the water then over to Jasper. "Are you sure about this?"
"Teach yourself to trust; You'll learn more that way."
I raised the penrose over my head and threw it down with all the strength I had. Splashing into the shallow pool, it shattered against the solid bottom and sent out a burst of radiant light, causing me to avert my eyes and block my face with my forearm. Cautiously, I brought my focus back to the fountain. The surface of the water had the same translucence as the ceiling above us. A small bead shined on brightly, filling the clouded pool with a mysterious glow.
"Go ahead, Avian. You break it, you own it," Jasper said over my shoulder.
With one hand on the wall, I reached into the water and loosely grasped a strangely shaped trinket. Once it touched my palm, the light ceased to shine and the pool became crystal clear. I brought the tiny object above the surface and opened my hand. It was a chess pawn, layered with the multiple colors of the penrose which created it. Despite not knowing its purpose, I was fascinated.
"You can always do something beautiful with something broken," Jasper said, looking at the pawn.
"What is this?" I asked, holding it between my thumb and finger.
"That is your strata," Jasper answered. "Like a penrose, it will get you where you need to go, but it's also obedient to you. This is how we travel outside the city and around the grid. Your strata will activate when you need it to and will make shifts, depending on how you hold it."
"Is there a wrong way to hold it?"
"Not exactly," Jasper said, pulling out a blunt nail with a wide head from the pocket of his corduroy pants. Similar to mine, it was layered with colors. "Everyone's strata can sit on a flat surface." He placed the nail on its head on the top of the fountain's wall. "This is right side up. Turning it in your hand will signify which way is up and which way is down."
"That's amazing," I said in an exhale. "But, what do we need it for right now?"
"This is how we're going to find out how you are connected to Nicholas Michaels," Jasper explained. "I'm preparing you for a relay. It's a method of communication. Here." He handed me the nail, his strata. "Hold this. I'm going to need yours." I handed over the chess pawn as instructed. "Now, close your eyes and clear your mind. I need you to focus on what I say. Don't speak. Just think and focus." I took a deep breath and did as I was told. "Who is Nicholas Michaels?"
The nail became unbearably hot and I dropped it in a reflex. I immediately opened my eyes and found myself in a sea of darkness. The nail hit the ground and threw brilliant white sparks in every direction, then disappeared with the light. I heard Jasper's voice in the distance.
"Focus, Avian."
Tiny white lights sparkled, dimly showing their surroundings. The more I concentrated on Mike, the more light crept over the darkness. Jasper startled me when he put his hand on my shoulder.
"Very good, Avian," he said with a pat. "Do you know where we are?"
I knew exactly where we were. "This is my ninth birthday party," I responded, still trying to comprehend it all. My house was standing, decorated for this occasion. I saw the bay windows of the kitchen, the deck where my parents entertained guests, and then I turned to see myself, nine-years-old, sitting on the stairs in the swimming pool. "Did we just travel back in time?" The sound of a doorbell chimed.
"In a way," Jasper said. "A relay projects your memories along with how the grid interacted with you. You bring the memory, my strata brings the grid. Now, where's this Nicholas Michaels?"
"This was the last conversation we had," I explained. "It was after everyone had left. I was sitting right there. He came through the opened gate. He'll be here soon. We talk about chlorine—"
The whistle of a tea kettle cut me off. I saw myself get out of the water and run up to the house, slowing down for the last few steps.
"No, no, no," I muttered. "This isn't right. He was here. Mike was here." I looked over to see myself crying on the deck. I realized that this was the moment my life changed. I ran to the windows in the French doors. My mother was crying on the floor. She was devastated. Then, I looked down at the younger me. My younger reflection in the window caught my eye. It wasn't me. This kid had sandy brown hair. Cut into a mushroom. Muddy eyes. He smiled.
A blinding light drowned everything. When I opened my eyes, we were back by the fountain in the pentagonal room. In my hand, I still held Jasper's strata. He grabbed the sides of my face.
"Are you okay?" he asked, deeply concerned. "What happened there?"
"That's when my mother died. That's when all of this started," I said, breathing heavily.
"I understand that, but we didn't leave that relay. We were kicked out," Jasper said forcefully.
"It was because of me. It was all because of me," I said with a twitch. "I'm not a hero. I'm a villain. I'm Mike. I'm Nicholas Michaels."
"We can't do this again, Avian," Jasper said, becoming irritated. "We just saw that Nicholas Michaels wasn't real. You brought us to a conversation that never happened. He was your imaginary friend who somehow got the same name that troubled your father."
"But, I saw Mike! He was standing in the reflection! It's me!"
"Stop it! He doesn't exist!"
"So sorry to interrupt," Donovan said, standing underneath the archway. "I'm afraid to say this, but you're both wrong."
Jasper cleared his throat and took a breath to calm himself. "All right, Donovan. Continue."
"We have a lead on Nicholas Michaels. He's on the grid."
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[Ch. Ded.] @tg7angel
To one of the most engaged readers I have ever met, one of the most ambitious writers I have ever read, one of the greatest people I have ever had the privilege of getting to know—Angel, you are awesome in more ways than one. Never stop being you.