Earth 2.0 - 1950 After Migration (AM), Tuesday, June 12

  The city of LYOD pulsed with artificial life, neon signs flickering in rhythmic patterns against the darkened skyline. In a cramped workshop, no bigger than a car garage, a young man hunched over his desk, his fingers deftly assembling a delicate mechanism. The glow from his work lamp cut through the dim space, casting long shadows that danced with his movements.

  Beyond the workshop’s thin walls, the world remained steeped in a long night, two years of uninterrupted darkness stretching across this half of the planet. Somewhere beyond the skyline, past towering spires and the maze of streets, the other side of the world basked in long daylight, warmed by the distant ember of the TRAPPIST-1 star. This planet, adrift 40 light-years from Earth 1.0, spun at a measured, deliberate pace. A full rotation on its axis took eight years, four years of unbroken night, followed by four years of unyielding day.

  Inside the workshop, time belonged only to the hum of machinery and the quiet determination of the young man at his desk..

  A frown creased Alex’s brow as he studied the half-finished device on his desk. Something was missing. He turned it over in his hands, the dim glow of his work lamp reflecting off polished metal and tangled circuitry. A crucial mechanical component, gone, or perhaps never acquired in the first place. He exhaled sharply, pushing back from his chair.

  With a practiced motion, he grabbed his worn-out coat from the back of his chair and slipped it on. The fabric, tattered at the edges, was a testament to long nights of work and wandering. He reached for his tool belt, securing it around his waist before stepping outside.

  The air outside was dense, heavy with the scent of rust and ozone, the unmistakable tang of a city built on machinery. Fluorescent signs buzzed and flickered, bathing the alleyways in eerie, shifting hues. LYOD never truly slept, not in the endless night, nor in the unrelenting day.

  Alex, though most people, for reasons even he had stopped questioning, simply called him Sir, moved with purpose. His boots echoed softly against the pavement as he navigated through narrow streets, heading toward the scrapyard.

  It wasn’t just necessity that pushed him to salvage old parts. It was survival.

  He had the knowledge, an associate degree in engineering, a foundation that once held promise. But in this era, knowledge alone wasn’t enough. The world had advanced too quickly, raising the bar of competence to impossible heights. As technology surged forward, so did the lines between man and machine, until the distinction blurred beyond recognition.

  The unemployment rate had risen with this shift, swallowing those who couldn’t keep up. Alex had been among them.

  Artificial humans now walked the same streets as organics, indistinguishable in appearance, intelligence, and even emotion. The world government had long since leveled the playing field, granting them the same rights as their flesh-and-blood counterparts. Activists had pushed for equality, their voices growing louder until the world relented. Now, human was a term without a definitive boundary.

  For people like Alex, it meant one thing: adapt, or be left behind.

  That was why he built, crafted advanced utilities, intricate devices, anything that could sell at a price low enough to compete in a saturated market. And tonight, with a missing component halting his work, there was only one place to go.

  The scrapyard.

  His pace quickened, the neon glow of the city stretching out before him as he disappeared into its depths.

  On the opposite side of LYOD, where the skyline shimmered with towering glass monoliths, the most prestigious institution of technological advancement loomed above the city, Trappistan University. Within its sleek, high-tech halls, a young woman meticulously adjusted the settings on her presentation console, the soft glow of the interface reflecting in her sharp, calculating eyes.

  The auditorium around her buzzed with quiet anticipation. Faculty members, industry experts, and fellow students were already beginning to take their seats, some whispering about the significance of today’s event.

  At the heart of the commotion stood Starlight.

  Her presence alone commanded attention, not just because of her striking composure, but because she was the kind of student who left no room for doubt. For years, she had been the institution’s brightest mind, earning the nickname Miss Best Answer for her uncanny ability to dismantle even the most complex questions with precision and flawless logic.

  But today wasn’t about academic titles.

  Today, she was here to prove something greater.

  Her research, artificial genetic enhancement technology, was not just another study among the sea of scientific projects; it was the cutting-edge field of the era. And she wasn’t merely a participant in it, she was leading it.

  A prototype rested on the podium beside her, sleek and compact, embodying years of development and innovation. It was this device that had secured her full institutional backing, this device that had pushed her research beyond theoretical limits and into the realm of tangible reality.

  And today, at precisely 14:30, she would stand before some of the most influential minds in the world and present what could be the next step in human evolution.

  Trappistan University - 08:35

  The morning air inside Trappistan University’s service wing was thick with the scent of industrial disinfectant and stale coffee. In the breakroom, a handful of workers stood around, some rubbing sleep from their eyes, others nursing half-empty cups of lukewarm caffeine.

  Stepan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his stomach gnawing at him in protest. He hadn’t had time for breakfast, not that skipping a meal was anything new.

  His supervisor, a wiry man with graying temples and a permanent frown, stood at the front of the room, flipping through a digital clipboard. With a tired sigh, he adjusted his glasses and began the daily briefing.

  “Alright, listen up. Today’s assignments are up on your devices. Stepan, you’re on scrap duty, there’s a package waiting in Lab A2, second hallway of the main hall. Needs to go to the scrap shelter immediately.”

  Stepan let out a groan, rubbing his empty stomach. “Right now? Or can I at least grab something to eat first?”

  His supervisor shot him a sharp look. “No. That package contains scrap astable material. If it sits too long, it goes radioactive.”

  Stepan’s eyes widened slightly. “Radioactive? Seriously?”

  “Seriously. So unless you want to start glowing in the dark, I suggest you move your ass.”

  Stepan sighed, rolling his shoulders before standing up straight. “Fine, fine. What am I looking for?”

  “It’s packed in a chromium box. Shouldn’t be hard to spot.”

  Stepan exhaled through his nose, already regretting his life choices. “Got it.”

  The supervisor glanced at the rest of the crew, clapped his hands together, and nodded. “Alright, that’s it for the morning briefing. Get to work.”

  The room filled with the usual chorus of mumbled acknowledgments, scraping chairs, and shuffling boots as the workers dispersed. Stepan lingered for just a second longer before dragging himself toward the main hall, his stomach still growling in protest.

  It was going to be a long morning.

  Trappistan University – 08:00

  The artificial glow of streetlamps and neon signs flickered against the glass facade of Trappistan University, their cold light casting restless shadows as students and faculty hurried inside. Starlight stood at the edge of the main hall, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed. She kept glancing toward the road, her lips pressed together in a tight line.

  She was waiting.

  “Good morning, Miss Best Answer!”

  A playful voice rang out behind her, followed by the light tapping of boots on the pavement. Starlight turned her head slightly, already knowing who it was.

  Revana, her ever-enthusiastic colleague, strolled up beside her with a smirk. “How are your preparations today?”

  Starlight groaned, rubbing her temples. “Ughh, Revana, can you not call me that today? I’m already drowning in nerves as it is.”

  Revana chuckled, bumping Starlight’s shoulder. “Oh, come on, Star, don’t tense up too much. You don’t want your shoulders doing a robot dance in the middle of your presentation, do you?”

  Starlight let out an exasperated sigh but couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile creeping onto her face.

  Revana tilted her head. “So? What are you waiting for?”

  “My prototype,” Starlight said, scanning the street again. “The final fabrication came through last night. The lab is shipping it over from central fabrication.”

  As if on cue, a large transport truck rumbled into view, its engine hissing as it slowed near the package receiving area by the main hall. The rear container lifted slightly, preparing to unload.

  “Ah! There it is!” Starlight’s mood instantly lifted, her eyes bright with anticipation.

  Revana folded her arms, watching the truck maneuver into position. “By the way, Star,” she said casually, “have you prepped your thesis approval files?”

  Starlight blinked.

  Her heart skipped.

  Her eyes widened in realization.

  “Oh no!” She smacked her forehead. “I completely forgot! I still have time, right? I can run to the administration office after I get my package!”

  Revana raised an eyebrow. “You’d better hurry, though. The admin room is a madhouse right now.”

  Starlight bit her lip, glancing between the truck and the university’s main building. No time to panic, think!

  “I’ll tell the courier to drop my package in front of Lab A2,” she decided quickly. “That way, I can pick it up after I handle my files.” She turned to Revana with a grateful nod. “Thanks, Rev, you just saved me.”

  Revana grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”

  Wasting no time, Starlight rushed toward the truck as the chromium box, her prototype, was carefully lowered onto a mechanical platform. She signed off on the delivery paperwork in a blur, barely acknowledging the courier before instructing him, “Put it in front of Lab A2, please. I’ll grab it as soon as I’m done.”

  The courier nodded, and with that, Starlight spun on her heel and sprinted toward the administration office.

  Revana chuckled, watching her friend disappear into the crowd. “She’s gonna stress herself into an early grave one day.”

  Shaking her head, she turned and headed inside.

  Trappistan University – 08:45

  Stepan adjusted the straps of his work gloves, exhaling as he made his way down the empty hallway. His boots echoed against the polished floors, the usual hum of the university's research labs barely audible at this hour.

  Alright, Lab A2, he thought, rolling his shoulders. Shouldn’t take too long.

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  But as soon as he reached the lab’s entrance, he stopped short, eyebrows furrowing.

  Two chromium boxes sat neatly in front of the door.

  Stepan scratched the back of his head. “Huh.” He shifted his gaze between them, as if staring hard enough would make one of them glow with a “THIS ONE” sign.

  “Didn’t Mr. Wizz say a package?” he muttered to himself. “He never mentioned how many there were…”

  He let out a deep sigh, tapping his fingers against his hip. The last thing he wanted was to get chewed out for leaving something behind. And considering how strict they were about handling scrap materials, especially anything with unstable components, it was probably best to err on the side of caution.

  “Eh, screw it. I’ll just take both,” he decided, crouching down.

  With a grunt, he heaved the first box onto his shoulder, then carefully positioned the second one under his other arm. The weight was manageable, but the awkward size made balancing tricky. Muttering under his breath, he adjusted his grip and started his trek to the scrap yard.

  Unbeknownst to him, one of those boxes wasn’t just scrap.

  It was the culmination of years of cutting-edge research.

  A prototype that could change everything.

  And he was hauling it off to be discarded like junk.

  Roadway – 10:20

  The cold night air clung to Alex’s skin as he walked, the neon glow of the city painting his path in shifting hues of blue, red, and green. The streets bustled despite the perpetual darkness that had ruled this side of the planet for two years now. The artificial lights overhead hummed softly, flickering against the blackened sky, a poor substitute for Trappist light.

  Alex didn’t rush. He took measured steps, letting the crisp air cool his head, steady his heart. He needed to be calm, focused. Tonight was just another nigh, one more trip to the junkyard, one more scavenged part to complete his work. His emerald eyes, reflecting the glow of a nearby streetlamp, held steady on the road ahead.

  Then, a burst of sound from a passing billboard caught his attention.

  “It looks like Roman Ohlson has a slight lead over Russle Vasseur in this first round of voting, while Linda Rosa remains in third place, trailing significantly behind.”

  Alex paused mid-step. The voice of the news anchor was quickly followed by scattered murmurs from the crowd gathered below the massive screen.

  “Great, the ADA candidate is leading,” someone scoffed. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

  “Yeah,” another muttered. “If he wins, how long do you think it'll take before they start hunting down the artificials?”

  “If that happens, the Vasseur family and PHI are screwed. ADA’s made it clear, they don’t care if you’re artificial or not, as long as you stand in their way.”

  “I just hope this doesn’t turn into another massacre…”

  Alex exhaled sharply, a shiver running up his spine. He clenched his fists, then forced his hands into his coat pockets. Not my problem. Not anymore.

  He willed himself to move forward, ignoring the lingering chill of unease. Whatever happened in politics, in war, in the tangled mess of artificial and organic humanity, it didn’t concern him. That was the past. He was just an unemployed engineer scraping by, making what he could from discarded parts.

  Junkyard – 10:28

  Eight minutes later, he arrived at the junkyard.

  “Hey, back again already? Forget something again, Sir?”

  The voice came from behind him, rough and familiar. Alex turned his head, barely making out the figure of Roge, the yard’s gatekeeper, leaning against the entrance booth.

  "Hard to recognize you in this dark morning," Alex greeted, stepping closer.

  Roge chuckled, adjusting the old cap on his head. "Yeah, well. What can I do? Still got two more years of this night shift before the Trappist shows up again."

  Alex smirked. "Fair point."

  "So, what'd you miss this time?" Roge asked, crossing his arms.

  Alex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Forgot the spring component for my suspension solenoid."

  Roge let out a low whistle. "Man, you really got a gift for forgetting the important stuff, huh? Hope that habit doesn’t screw you over someday."

  Alex chuckled. "I'll manage."

  "Yeah, yeah. You know the drill, though. License card," Roge said, holding out his hand.

  Alex dug into his pocket and handed it over. Roge scanned it, then gave a nod. "Alright, usual rules apply, take what you need, but don’t get greedy."

  "Wouldn’t dream of it," Alex replied, already stepping toward the gate.

  "Oh, before you go—" Roge called after him. "New shipment came in this morning. Saw a chromium box in the pile. Might have something useful for you. And watch yourself, some of that stuff’s radioactive."

  Alex gave a casual wave over his shoulder. "Got it."

  As he disappeared into the maze of scrap, Roge shook his head with a smirk. "That guy's gonna get himself into trouble one of these days…"

  Junkyard – 10:35

  The moment Alex stepped into the storage area, the thick scent of rust and ozone filled his lungs. The dim, flickering lights cast jagged shadows over the heaps of discarded tech, making the place look more like a graveyard than a scrapyard. Piles of broken machinery, half-melted metal casings, and shattered circuits were scattered everywhere, free for the taking, as long as you had the right paperwork.

  His radiation suit crinkled as he moved, the bulky gloves making it slightly harder to search through the mess. It only took a few minutes before his gaze landed on two chromium boxes, just as Roge had mentioned. He crouched beside them, eyes narrowing.

  "These don’t match…" he thought. One was still sealed, its surface pristine despite the dust settling over it. The other? It looked like a discarded container, its edges scuffed, the lid loosely resting on top.

  "Is this even junk?" Alex wondered, running a gloved hand over the sealed box.

  Something felt… off. The way it was just sitting here, almost carelessly placed, as if someone had set it down in a hurry. His gut told him to check it in the sterile examination chamber first, just to be sure. He reached for his hoverboard, carefully lifting the sealed box onto it. Then, out of curiosity, he pried open the unsealed one.

  His stomach dropped.

  A faint greenish glow pulsed within. The astable material inside was already starting to turn radioactive.

  "Shit!" Alex snapped, slamming the lid shut.

  His pulse thundered in his ears. That stuff, if left unchecked, could be deadly.

  "So my guess was right. That box was just for wrapping the wreckage… but this one?" His eyes flicked back to the sealed chromium box on his hoverboard. "Was this package sent to the wrong address?"

  His jaw tightened. Whatever it was, it didn’t belong here. And if he was right about where it should be, this could turn into a much bigger problem.

  Without wasting another second, he wheeled the hoverboard toward the sterile examination chamber. Once inside, he placed everything onto the sterilization conveyor, letting the system do its work. He peeled off his radiation gear, feeling the cool air hit his damp skin as he stepped into the sterile zone.

  Sid, the facility’s on-site inspector, was already running scans when Alex walked in.

  "How’s it looking?" Alex asked, trying to sound casual.

  Sid barely glanced up from his console. "It’s fine for the most part. But—" He gave Alex a curious look. "Why’d you bring the whole box? You usually just grab parts. Something special about today?"

  Alex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not really. More like the opposite. This one didn’t look like scrap, so I wanted to check it first."

  Sid hummed, tapping a few keys before glancing back at the results. "Let’s see… huh. Interesting." His brows lifted slightly. "Says here it’s labeled AGE, Trappistan University."

  Alex stiffened. His fingers curled into a fist.

  Trappistan University.

  And worse, AGE.

  A bitter taste settled on his tongue. A slow, sinking dread spread through his chest.

  "You have got to be kidding me."

  He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "Could today get any worse…" he muttered under his breath.

  Sid frowned, picking up on his sudden shift in mood. "What’s up with you? Cat got your tongue?"

  Alex shook his head. "Nothing. Just not my lucky day."

  Sid eyed him for a moment before nodding toward the box. "So, you taking this one or what?"

  Alex didn’t even hesitate. "Nope. Probably a misdirected package. Just throw it in lost and found, someone’s bound to come looking for it."

  Sid shrugged. "Suit yourself."

  Alex turned on his heel and walked out, letting the sterilization door hiss shut behind him. His mind, however, refused to let it go.

  AGE. Trappistan University.

  He had no intention of getting involved. But something told him this wasn’t over yet.

  Trappistan University – 10:30

  Administration Room

  Starlight had been stuck in the administration office for nearly two hours. The only thing keeping her from completely unraveling was the fact that her thesis approval files were finally being processed. Now, all she could do was wait.

  She sat in silence, her fingers drumming lightly on her knee. Inside, her nerves twisted in knots. Her ruby-red eyes flicked to the television screen mounted on the wall, where the latest political debate played out.

  "Great. More stress."

  On-screen, a reporter pressed one of the Unoseis Union presidential candidates, Russle Vasseur.

  "Mr. Vasseur, we all know that the only way to distinguish between artificial and organic humans is under extreme stress. What are your thoughts on candidate Ohlson, who is being promoted by ADA? If they win this election, how will your party respond?"

  Vasseur’s expression was firm, unyielding. “I won’t allow it,” he stated. “Ohlson and ADA will be dangerous for everyone if they gain power. Their so-called ‘test’ is only 70% accurate. That’s not enough to guarantee fair results. PHI and our party will investigate the vote counts—we suspect fraud in Ohlson’s favor.”

  Another reporter jumped in. “But what if there isn’t fraud? What if the majority genuinely supports ADA’s ideology?”

  Vasseur’s jaw tightened. “Then we’ll work even harder to prove that all humans are the same.”

  Before Starlight could dwell on the implications of that statement, a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Mr. Vasseur is really something, huh?” Revana plopped down in the seat next to her, crossing her arms. “I can’t lie, though. I’d be a little worried if Ohlson actually won.”

  Starlight sighed, pulling her gaze from the screen. “Yeah… especially that whole method for telling artificial and organic humans apart. It sounds cruel.”

  Revana nodded. “Let’s just trust Vasseur and PHI. They’ll handle it.” Her tone was light, but there was an edge of concern beneath it.

  “Yeah…” Starlight mumbled, not entirely convinced.

  Sensing the tension, Revana changed the subject. “Hey, speaking of Vasseur, did you know that a Vasseur was once a star student here? Kinda like you.”

  Starlight blinked. “A Vasseur? First I’m hearing of it.”

  “Yeah, don’t get too lost in your research, Star.” Revana grinned. “If I remember right, his name was Alexsir Vasseur. He’s Russle Vasseur’s son. And—” she leaned in slightly, “he’s the one who came up with the theory behind Artificial Genetic Enhancers. AGE. The same thing you’re working on now.”

  Starlight’s breath hitched. “Alexsir—”

  Before she could ask more, a voice called out from the front desk.

  “Starlight Stellar!”

  “Oh, that’s you!” Revana nudged her. “Looks like your paperwork’s done.”

  “Right. I’ll be back in a sec.” Starlight stood and hurried toward the office.

  After handling the last bit of documentation, Starlight and Revana made their way toward Corridor 2, just outside Lab A2, where her package had been left.

  The moment they arrived, Starlight’s stomach dropped.

  It was gone.

  Her head snapped toward Revana. “Reva… my package was right here, wasn’t it?”

  Revana stiffened. “Yeah. I swear it was here.”

  A cold panic settled over Starlight’s chest. “No, no, no, this isn’t happening.”

  Revana held up a hand. “Okay, deep breath. Let’s check with security. Maybe they moved it somewhere safer.”

  Without wasting another second, they sprinted to the security office.

  “Please,” Starlight pleaded with the officers, “tell me someone moved my package.”

  One of the security officers, Gabie, frowned as he scanned the records. The silence stretched a little too long.

  Finally, he exhaled. “Ah… I see.”

  Starlight felt a flicker of hope. “So? Where is it?”

  Gabie rubbed his neck. “Uh… a janitor took it.”

  Starlight paled. “What do you mean, took it?”

  Gabie clicked through the security footage, then winced. “Yeah. They thought it was trash.”

  Revana inhaled sharply. “Oh no.”

  Starlight was already heading for the door. “We need to find them. Now.”

  Gabie stood. “I’ll come with you. Let’s check the cleaning room.”

  With panic rising in her chest, Starlight rushed down the hall. If that package was gone for good… she didn’t even want to think about it.

  Trappistan University – 11:10

  Cleaning Room

  Stepan finally had a moment to breathe. After hauling trash all morning, he could sit back, relax, and enjoy his breakfast. He leaned against the break room couch, flipping his attention between the food in his hands and the TV mounted on the wall.

  The news was still buzzing about the election. On-screen, a reporter pressed the leading candidate, Mr. Ohlson.

  "Mr. Ohlson, if elected, will you fully implement ADA’s policies?"

  Ohlson didn’t hesitate. His cold, even voice sent a chill down Stepan’s spine.

  "There should only be one kind of human. Any being not created by the true creator is not life, they are mere tools, fabricated by human hands. Imperfect. Disposable."

  Stepan nearly choked on his food. “Whoa. This guy’s nuts. And he’s the front-runner?” He muttered, shaking his head.

  Before he could take another bite, the break room door slammed open.

  "STEPAN!!!"

  His boss’s voice boomed through the room. Stepan flinched so hard he almost dropped his plate.

  “Y-Yes, Mr. Wizz? What’s wrong?”

  Before Mr. Wizz could answer, three more people rushed in, two women and a security officer. Their expressions were a mix of panic and urgency.

  The woman in front wasted no time. “Did you take my package to the dump?” she demanded.

  Stepan blinked. “Package? I only took trash, like I was told.”

  Mr. Wizz’s face turned red. “Trash package! I told you to take trash! Not something that was still sealed!”

  Stepan’s confusion deepened. “Wait, what? You told me to take the chromium boxes. You didn’t say how many! Everything there was a chromium box, so I took all of them.”

  “You should’ve asked for clarification!” Wizz snapped.

  “Alright, enough.” Gabie, the security officer, stepped in before the argument could escalate further. “Pointing fingers won’t get the package back. We need to head to the dump now, before someone else takes it.”

  Starlight’s fingers clenched into fists. “I have a presentation at 14:00. I need that package.”

  Gabie checked his watch. “We’ve still got time. Stepan, you’re driving.”

  Stepan groaned. “Man, I haven’t even finished breakfast.”

  Wizz shot him a look. “Go now, and I might forgive you.”

  Stepan sighed in defeat. “Fine. Everybody in the truck.”

  Within minutes, they were piling into vehicles, Stepan, Starlight, and Revana in his truck, while Gabie and Wizz followed close behind in a security car, sirens on.

  The race against time had begun.

  Junkyard – 11:35

  The group arrived at the junkyard, tension hanging in the air. As soon as they stepped out of the vehicle, Roge gave them a once-over, then leaned against a stack of metal scraps with a smirk.

  “So, what brings you all here?” he asked, arms crossed.

  “We’re looking for a package,” Starlight said, her voice still edged with panic.

  Roge’s expression shifted as he recalled something. “Oh! You guys are lucky. My buddy, Sir, just found something like that. Didn’t take it though, said someone would probably come looking for it. Ha! His instincts are always spot-on, even if he does have a habit of forgetting things.”

  “Sir?” Starlight frowned. “Where did he take it?”

  “Relax,” Roge chuckled. “According to procedure, anything unclaimed gets sent to the lost and found.”

  Starlight let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Thank you, sir.”

  Without wasting another second, she, Revana, and Stepan rushed toward the lost and found room. Mr. Wizz and Gabie stayed behind, watching them disappear into the building.

  Inside, as soon as they spotted the package sitting safely on a counter, relief flooded through Starlight.

  “Thank goodness, Star! And you, Mr. Stepan, you really need to be more careful with your job!” Revana scolded, crossing her arms.

  Stepan scratched his head. “Hey, I hadn’t even had breakfast when I got ordered to haul stuff. Cut me some slack.” He sighed, then turned to Starlight. “Anyway, my bad, Miss Star.”

  “It’s fine,” Starlight said, her voice softer now. “What matters is that we found it.”

  Revana exhaled. “Still, I wonder who was kind enough to return it?”

  Stepan scoffed. “Kind? More like an idiot. Who in their right mind gives up something valuable like this?”

  Revana shot him a glare. “Maybe someone who isn’t selfish.”

  Ignoring their bickering, Starlight picked up the package and glanced at the attached label.

  Donated by Sir Alex.

  She blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. Who calls themselves ‘Sir’?

  Still, something about it amused her. Maybe even intrigued her.

  “I think he’s… an interesting person,” she murmured, a small smile forming.

  With that, the crisis was averted. The star shone once again.

  But elsewhere, beyond this fleeting moment of relief, the black hole of this cosmic story still loomed, waiting.

  End of chapter I.