A.SPECKHART

BOOK ONE

NEW REALITY 1.1

[21st October 2009]

The night the newsreader announced the conspiracy theories were true, it was a Wednesday. It had been a perfectly average day. A media storm was brewing in the Technosphere, and the silver linings beneath its clouds were getting thinner and harder to find. My world was about to change beyond recognition, but even now, with the gift of hindsight, I couldn't say if it changed for better or for worse. I had just finished a late-night study session and made it home in time to catch the ten o'clock news broadcast.

My world hadn't changed as I walked the twenty minutes home, from the university building to my dingy flat. The streetlight that shone down onto the steps as I descended from the exit still flickered. As I made my way over the carpark, a guy from my study group struggled to start his car like he did every other day. The corner convenience shop's neon sign buzzed when I passed by, and the homeless man that sat huddled on a derelict building's doorstep still presented his cardboard sign. It read, HUMANITY IS DEAD, in messy black marker pen. Beneath in smaller script, he revealed his strain of peculiarity with the words, SPARE SOME CHANGE IF UR NOT A ROBOT.

I pulled my hood up over my head as I walked by. Though I wasn't blind to his misfortune, I wanted to be blinkered from it. Maybe my humanity was dead because ignoring someone in need wasn't moral. I knew that, but like most people, I looked away from horrible things. Despite knowing all that was imperfect about my everyday life, I didn't pay it any mind and strived to focus on the illusion of perfection. Perhaps it was pitiful how easily I accepted that some things were just out of my control.

Only moments after I closed the door behind me, I abandoned my coat on the hook, kicked off my boots and flung my bookbag aside with little regard for the mess I was leaving in my wake.

My phone had been vibrating non-stop all the way home as new notifications flooded in. I had ignored it in favour of keeping my wits about me while out on the street's past watershed. The area I lived in was not the city's dodgiest area, but it was by no means upper class either.

I had moved out of my parent's house in favour of the little room I now called home. I lived a relatively normal student life; despite suffering the mild poverty of living under the thumb of my student loan, I was enjoying getting by on my own - even if it meant surviving on microwave meals and takeaways, washing my clothes in the local laundrette, and spending what little money I was left with between Thursday and Saturday night at student bars. I suppose I was happy; this chapter of my life felt like a rite of passage.

Stood in the kitchenette, in front of the microwave, already wearing my pyjamas; I was waiting for the ping to let me know that my takeaway leftovers were nuked to perfection. The telly lit up my tiny living room in blue-tinted light. The programmes were background noise, but then the familiar news jingle played and grabbed my attention - mostly because I could hardly believe it was already that late.

Despite the composed and professional facade of the newsreader, all other media was tail spinning in utter panic. Still, she stoically made her report. Photographs and official government documents discussing the existence of 'other' species, which had leaked on the internet around a year ago, seemingly had credibility. Creatures of lore and myth were real. Scaly, horned Demonic beings, feather-winged Celestials, tiny, bug-winged Faeries, Lycanthropes; people who could transform into lupine forms and elementals who could manipulate the likes of fire and water, and even blood-sucking Vampires were no longer just fictitious, Grimm tales. They lived amongst us. Us who were now being called "Mortals". What begged belief was that these "Mythicals" had hidden in plain sight since time memorial.

Blinking in disbelief at the t.v screen, I watched as the pandemonium was retold with complete indifference. Already masses had gathered in protest with their picket boards, questioning humanity's safety and demanding segregation and control of the new minorities. Countless nightmares had come to life, but just as I had on the walk home, I didn't want to face the terrifying consequences, so my mind began to minimalise the issue.

Oh, come on, give it a rest. They're overreacting…. What are the chances of actually bumping into a wolfman?

I even rolled my eyes at the thought, but my conscience caused me to wonder,

I guess wolfman isn't PC. Werewolf? No? Lycanthrope, then.

I hadn't heard the microwave's ping while I'd been watching the news, but I was roused by the ringtone of my mobile. My mum was calling. It never entered my head not to answer because, unlike many of my peers, I didn't dislike my parents. Far from it, in fact. To me, they were amazing! We had a great relationship. As well as being my parents, they were also my friends.

I answered the video call to see both my mum and dad's pixelated faces looking at me from the screen. I instantly smiled, but they wore expressions that told me something unpleasant was afoot.

"Hi, sweetheart," Dad said tentatively. "Have you heard the news?"

Until that chat, I'd had a steadfast image of who my father was fixed in my mind. His identity was a part of mine - I was who I was because he was who he was - A fifty-four-year-old museum archivist; who had an addiction to coffee and collected vinyl records from the bygone era of his youth.

Out of the blue, my beloved dad made a confession,

"Sweetheart, I know this might be a lot to take in, but you see, I'm an Elf,"

At first, I laughed. How ridiculous! Did they really expect me to believe that?

Apparently, yes, and they also expected me to pack up my life in England and move with them to the safety of my uncle's cabin in the arse-end-of-nowhere - The Black Forest, Germany. An uncle who, incidentally, I now realised was also an Elf. The whole of my dad's side of the family was all Elven! They informed me that my mum was 'Mortal' as if that was some kind of consolation because, ultimately, that meant I was only half-Elf.

It was all too much to comprehend in the short hour I spent on the phone with them. I eventually hung up, saying that I needed some time to think things over and that I'd call them back soon. With so much on my mind, I forgot about eating and went straight to bed.