Location: Elusyia, Beyond the Silver Boundary

Year: SL 1770

The sky rumbled as a beam of blue light pierced into the heavens. The air hummed, and the earth shook, disturbing the nearby forest. Whatever moved left the forest’s edge in an instance of panicked squawks and screeching. Nearby the light source, a twisted, bronze spire two kilometres long, stood several figures in silver-white coats.

A holographic blue screen wrapped itself around the spire, like a ring at the base of a finger. Seconds later, more holographic screens flickered into existence with an increasingly smaller diameter as the spire tapered into a fine point that caught the light of the surrounding buildings and the moon.

An ear-popping whoosh resounded from the spire’s tip, and for a second, everything stopped. The white-coated figures pointed their clawed fingers at the air in front of them with unblinking eyes. Strands of grass bent at their bases, and dust hung in the air. For that one second, the world held its breath.

Then the sky shattered.

Space split, spiderwebbing from the cool blue moon and reaching out into the dark fabric of the night. A high-pitched scream cried out into the still world, and a flash of nebulous smoke seeped from the cracks. Another moment passed, with the rest of the world on pause.

The smoke shimmered into obscurity, and life continued once more.

The figures, previously still, milled about. Some scrutinised their thin, floating interfaces, tracking numbers and data. Murmurs of “All clear” blended into each other.

A giant grey, flickering screen wavered into existence. Everyone looked up and stopped.

The screen zapped and buzzed. A mechanical voice boomed into the air. “Progress report.”

Everyone froze and directed their slit-pupil gazes to a tall individual dressed in a long, stained robe. The figure leaned heavily on a long, metal pole.

“Matriarch, the Spire has finished the last of the dimensional calculations.”

There was a moment of silence. One of the silver-white coated figures tapped on their interfaces, frowning. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

The individual jumped, silver scales lining the side of a haggard face for a brief second. “M-matriarch, it-it’s nothing to worry about.”

The tall figure shook his head. “Speak, Nalcrasi. We cannot afford any delays. Our situation is still very unstable.”

Nalcrasi looked down, furiously tapping the various numbers displayed in red. “The readings indicate that we’ve already breached the liminal space between universes. E-essentially, we’ve made contact.”

Location: Earth, Arctic International Leaders’ Conference

Year: 2408

Seven shapes of people appeared at a shining, metallic table with a flash of light. They were like digital mannequins with their vaguely human figures flickering in and out of existence. In the corners of the heptagonal room were tubes, glowing a slight purple. A mass of organs and nerves floated in the steadily bubbling liquid.

A yellow projection shook their head.

“Why am I called to this miserable place again? My reception is bad, and I’m busy.”

Another faceless projection raised their head. “And you don’t delegate the menial work to the managers?”

“I don’t trust them. We are warlords of Ouroboros. If the smaller factions get their grubby little hands-”

A white projection stood up. “Enough. There isn’t time for small talk. I’ve called this meeting to address our long-standing problem.”

Everyone sat up.

A green projection shook their head. “So after all these years, we finally uncovered technology for interstellar space travel?”

The white projection paused. “Not quite. We’ve discovered another piece of technology from the Old World. The results were interesting, to say the least.”

Silence.

A pink projection stood up. They flickered and zapped for a second before stabilising. “What is it then?”

“The Phone, as my sector calls it, has discovered traces of a spatial breach and detections of that Strange Residue that created the Great Madness three hundred years ago.”

The yellow projection raised their hand. “I hate to be that person, but I don’t quite understand. How does this relate to our long-standing problem? Can you please enlighten me, Zeika. I mean, Sekravos?”

Zeika nodded. “Ah, my apologies. I forgot the grand library access is difficult for the recently established Ouroboros faction. A few hundred years ago, there were records of a disease that caused madness. Later on, it’s now speculated that mysterious leakages in Strange Residue storages caused this. Spatial breaches mean there is now a definite source to the Strange Residue. If we can gather enough of it, we can power most Old-World technologies and even trigger the illusive self-regeneration feature.”

“And that means we can restore humanity’s former glory and even crawl out of their shadows.”

Zeika turned her head at the purple projection sitting opposite of her. “Exactly. And, I have more information. We have pinpointed the Gene-Med type with the highest likelihood of seeing these spatial anomalies. Type I-08.5. Immunity prototype six, one of the original Gene-Med serums directly from Old-World vials.”

The yellow projection shot up. “We have to restrict that now.”

Zeika gestured into the air, pulling up a holographic screen that flickered into view. “Agreed. Hence to our subject of this meeting. I propose a change in nation dynamics.”

The figure flicked the screen, propelling it to the other figures.

Silence reigned with only the soft bubbling of the tubes filling in the void of sound.

“You’re serious. Continue our phoney wars? Increase mutual hostility? Shouldn’t we focus on the spatial rips?”

Zeika nodded at the red projection. “Yes. However, we can’t do that if our entire system of government crumbles.”

The red projection stood up. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I lack weapons and resources. Surely, you cannot expect my descendants to convene in forty-five years if I am killed. With a big power vacuum, you will have a nightmare to contend with.”

Silence.

The yellow projection sighed. “Fabrication; the oldest trick out of the book. We can all help each other and fabricate the casualties and such. If we all share our resources and individual expertise, this feat is not impossible. Who knows, maybe we can progress through our stockpiles of Old-World tech and achieve our goals faster.”

Murmurs filled the room.

“I need to think about this.” The red projection flickered off.

The others turned to each other, looking back and forth from their screens.

Zeika clapped her hands. “Perhaps we should reconvene later to announce our final decisions.”

At that, the projections flattened and dissolved, leaving only a cold, lifeless room.

The lights flickered violently and turned off. A holoscreen appeared from the middle of the table for a few seconds. A second later, red words flashed into view.

International Archives accessed. Accessing registered individuals. Lilac Mellows, status changed – deceased.