Sunday, April 24, 2022 Charlie’s flat, TriBeCa, Manhattan, New York, United States

Jade followed the leads she had.

The FBI and DIA had both known about other events, that was one avenue to investigate.

Then there was still the island which had appeared off of the coast of Madagascar which had a complete news blackout. She spent some time catching up there: the speculation online was intense and not even close to the truth. Aliens, cultists, and doomsday prophets proliferated.

A megachurch in Florida had announced that the island was the true prophesied Third Temple and the end days were upon us. There had been violence in the aftermath with a synagogue brutally attacked.

In Midtown, there were constant protests in front of the U.N. to allow access to the island. The police barricades had been the site of more than one incident of violence.

And then there were rumors of ancient cult revivals, magical healing, lizard people, and a bunch of the other nutter conspiracies.

Europe was much the same, with a slight uptick in church attendance bucking existing trends. Increased incidents of violence against the Romani and Jewish populations there as well.

India and the countries of Africa had made the island points of nationalist pride, making territorial claims based on ancient legends and proximity and needs for national defense.

China, Russia, and the US were officially supporting the U.N. as their surrogate in keeping their interests up front despite no claim to the island except greed.

The whole thing stunk. Ella had said what was on the island was extraordinarily dangerous and nobody would be getting into that room with the bracelet short of nuclear weapons. Which was terrifying its own way. She had also mentioned something else, that the more troops they sent in to die, the more onvinced of the value they would be.

And then there were the “incidents,” sequestered to the corners of the internet and random fora where trolls and cynics made it hard to sort the truth from the lies.

Jade decided to start at home and set up an interview with the New York FBI office as a student of the school journalism program. A fluff piece as the pretext.

That same day Ixus Capital, Midtown, Manhattan, New York, United States

Tommy Xu sat in his office, in his native form. It was a tight fit for him, but even he had trouble finding a sufficient enough space with a sufficiently prestigious location in New York. But he needed to, since that girl had lit in him the dream of being open about his native form, he spent more time than ever cramped in this tiny office, unable to fly like he should.

When he had made his office two stories and about half the floor, the architect had thought he was merely that egotistical. He should have made it the whole floor.

But he maybe had one more molting before he might not be able to fit here, maybe a mere two hundred years. Well on the bright side, he may not have to worry about it, he had a much larger space in Toronto ready for when New York flooded. Which reminded him, he pushed the keys with his magic and brought up his portfolio of investments in future agriculture in the Northern Territories and Siberia. These humans were even surprising him with their cupidity, so he should probably accelerate his investments.

The girl, Ekerri, the re-emergence of the Thousand Kingdoms; it all made him anxious in a way he hadn’t felt for almost thirty thousand years. He pulled up more financial data looking… looking…

Something caught his eye, one of his neural nets had found anomalous trading patterns. He began to run additional analyses and with an irritated wave, began to resume his human form to type faster. No time to get dressed once he was transformed.

He was still there eight hours later when his secretary walked in. She quietly deposited the lacquered tray with enamel bowls and plates and withdrew; she was well used to her boss’s single-minded antics, even if him completely ignoring her, standing naked in his office and focused on the computer screens in front of him was a new level of eccentricity.

Xu ate the meal, absentmindedly registering it as a replica of a meal served served to Kangxi the day the Treaty of Nerchinsk had been signed. Not his favorite, and he paused to fire off a note to his secretary.

Back to tracking down who was making these trades, they were the kinds of trades he had been making, the kind of trades someone who knew about the The Thousand Kingdoms would make.