"Breaking: Goliath, the transnational supercorporation, was the victim of a large-scale terrorist attack..."

"...Less than a week after Pine Rim and Poppy, people are now questioning the state of security in New Sumer."

"...the same question surfacing across international spheres. Is Eden no longer safe?"

"...An act of internal espionage or crime against the state? Stay tuned as we break down the evidence on TNN."

"...More and more nefarious claims have spread like wildfire across the internet, reportedly backed by new evidence, with more allegations leveled against the company every day."

"...What you have to understand is that these quote-unquote 'leaks' thread back into the corporate IO. That's damning!"

"...Goliath CEO Ro'min Tan has declined to comment on yet another string of leaks whose truth could condemn the private juggernaut."

"...It's bullshit! There's evidence on those Azarean big-wigs, but the mainstream media keep making them out to be the victims! They're demons, I tell you! Make fun of me all you want, but it's true!"

"...Nearly a week after the breach, thousands of citizens from new and old-world Capitals have assembled on the streets to demand answers from state officials..."

"...After independent investigations confirmed the existence of a rumored Spearhead black site, several new governments have condemned Goliath and all known associates...."

"...Some say the regime was aware of the private sector's conspiracies, further adding fuel to the fires of distrust between both species."

"...Several Azarean councilmen have severed ties to their kin in the private sector and are now pushing for peace in regions of dispute."

"...This will be a new age led by transparency between humanity and the regime. No more secrets!"

"...The recording has been reconstructed by tech experts and will be played shortly. This is a KBS exclusive..."

"... Our world's leaders and their puppets have had over one-hundred years to mold a planet of lies, and it starts with Pine Rim. Me, though, I don't care enough to lie... 

"This is Lynx. Share, comment, subscribe."

"...The Wisdom of Nations has publicly condemned Goliath after a whirlwind of evidence linked the company to dozens of domestic terrorism cases."

"We are standing outside the Grand Monolith, where, minutes from now, the Prime Ambassador will address the recent groundbreaking revelations regarding Goliath's international crimes..."

"Humans of Earth! We lament the actions of our brethren and hope due justice shall begin a long but worthy process of mending and reunification."

Switch.

A single breath filled the rustic ambiance of the cabin, a haven housing natural light in a homely space within wooden walls. It included a kitchen: sink, dishwasher; to the left, a refrigerator hugging the wall, then a stove and a series of hardwood cabinets. Just a little bit of legroom separated the utilities from the granite countertop, which, aside from its coffeemaker, held nothing remarkable.

Beyond the kitchen and the countertop, in the living room, a sofa rested adjacent to a hallway that touched both ends of the interior. The far-left corner of the room had a Starfleet uniform, which Dexter examined from his snug position on the cushions until he rotated and peered over his shoulder, face smacked with wonder. "I missed a lot," he said.

"Yea, you did," said Jessica, and sipped from her coffee mug.

Eyes rolling to the ceiling, Dexter scratched his head before lowering in regret. "Sorry, I wasn't more useful."

Leaning on the other side of the counter, Jessica dropped her gaze to the granite, to her unsteady hand. "You helped me enough," she said, lifting a smile. "I knew where he was, thanks to your tracker. It inspired the whole operation, really."

"You mean Malvis's tracker?" he said, rising from the cushion. "Lucky it worked. I don't mean luck—well, you know what I mean..." He stood up and casually strode to the countertop. That's when Jessica changed the subject.

"How's the, uh..."

Dexter lifted his right arm, a steel prosthetic with articulation in the wrist, hand, and fingers. He demonstrated as much by carefully lifting Jessica's Darth Vader mug. Gently, he tapped the ceramic on granite. "It works, so that's pretty cool," he said.

"Can I call you Anakin from now on?"

"You're going to do that whether I say yes or no."

"Yes, I am."

Dexter mulled over the prosthetic. "Every now and again, it's like I can still feel my old arm."

"As creepy as that might sound, it's normal. It's Phantom Pain, this lingering effect when—"

"Attencion, pitches!"

Jess and Dexter flinched at Valerie, Shannon, and Raptor entering from the hallway. Valerie strolled in, first, with sanguine cheeks and a cavalier demeanor—albeit not too cavalier. An Azarean-style coat and sunglasses muted her figure. Per usual, her aura shoved past everyone else.

Shannon followed, dressed in her usual Tomboy noir getup: perfectly combed hair, straight black sleeves, and glasses that powered the winds of academia. Then came Raptor, wearing jeans, a dark green jacket, and sunglasses.

"Keep it down," he said. "This is a Safehouse, remember?"

"What he said," Shannon added.

Valerie turned and removed her glasses. "Perdona me, mama y papa."

Jessica almost coughed a laugh before Valerie waved a plastic bag in her face. 

"I got you something, homegirl."

"I'm kind of afraid."

Shannon removed her glasses and bit the temple tip. "I actually liked it."

Raptor considerately brushed past the ladies in order to reach his younger brother. "How are the motor functions on the motor?" he asked, motioning to the arm,

"It's working. Waiting to get used to it," said Dexter, face turning bleak. "After hearing about Monarch, I'll consider myself lucky."

"Didn't he have a real name?" Shannon scowled. "I think he should be properly remembered."

"If he did, I don't know it," said Raptor.

"Really, Drake? Really?"

"I don't think Amon knows, either."

"Speaking of..." started Jessica.

Drake tossed her a shrug. "Amon, Beelz, Dissent, Sub Terra, they're back to hiding. Despite everything that's happened, they're taking it slow, but it's for the best. Hopefully, they won't see us as enemies next time we meet."

"Yeap. They had grown on me, too," Valerie muttered.

"Me three," said Shannon.

"If they want to get in touch, they will," Drake assured. "Or..." He met Jessica's distant gaze. "If you ever decide to, I'm sure you'll find them."

"What time is it?" Dexter interrupted

"About to strike 10:30," Jessica said.

Shannon checked her watch. "Yep."

A brief silence later, Valerie shoved the shopping bag into Jessica's arms.

***

In a bedroom shrouded by white drapes over window panes, Valerie and Jessica snugly situated themselves on a soft mattress. Valerie's knees dug into the sheets while Jessica sat at the very edge and felt the bristles of a comb lightly brush her scalp. She peered down at her necklace in silence.

A strange sensation crept across her spine. Her sense of calm got cornered by a feeling of inevitability, like the walls around them would crumble at any given moment.

"You're shaking," said Valerie.

Jessica stiffened. "This whole ritual preparation almost seems too weird."

"You know there's no such thing when it comes to her."

"No..."

"It's not something you have to get used to, Jess. Better that you don't." Valerie applied the finishing touches, taking her time while Jessica meditated. "Your hair has a weird twist, you know that? It's very thick y más negro que la noche. It grows so quick; want to trade?"

"Heh, you know you're not the first to tell me that."

"Well, it's done."

Jessica lithely stood and looked at the mirror. She donned a black dress: ornate semi-circles interlocked at the hem and weaved across the seams; dark sleeves hugged the length of her arms, while black nylons stretched to her feet encased in polished black shoes; topping it all off, a choker. Her hair straightened as straight as it could get, too jagged for pins, and her paleness returned.

Years had passed since her last funeral, though it didn't feel like years.

"Give me some credit. It fits perfectly," Valerie bragged.

"I suppose," Jessica said coyly, then smirked at her friend. Homegirl wore a black sundress that gave her skin a little more room to breathe. Even so, it was modest. "This doesn't mean you're going to do my shopping, so don't get any ideas."

Valerie rolled her eyes. "I'd be doing you too many favors."

Jessica returned to her reflection. "We don't want to be late," she sighed.

"Pues vamonos."

"Just gotta use the washroom real quick."

"I'll be outside." Valerie closed the door behind her.

It felt empty, silent and eerie until she heard the tap of her own shoes. She stopped after the first step toward the washroom, and nothing happened. Two steps later, her hands felt her face and succumbed to wet discomfort, so she turned back to the mirror.

Tears fell in slow, distinct droplets from thick eyelashes, the same time her shoulders twitched and brushed against the inlays of her dress. She pictured the floodgates in her stomach, so used her remaining willpower, clenched her fist, and kept the sorrow at bay.

Until she didn't.

She fell, and the tears fell faster. The snivels grew louder, and she mustered the energy she thought she had to gulp down the wails building in the pit of her stomach. She fought against it. Fought hard. In her mind, the suffering had stopped. But in the mirror, she was the image of a fraught girl in black quivering on her knees and clawing at a pallid face of tears.

"Beth, David, Dani, I'm sorry," she sobbed, holding herself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry..."

***

Jessica grabbed Valerie in the hallway, then entered the living room, where everyone had been waiting. Dexter sat on the sofa, peering over his shoulder at her, bug-eyed. Drake was leaning on the wall, arms crossed – He had changed into a black blazer that perfectly suited him. Shannon was sipping coffee at the counter when she laid eyes on the dress. They all looked ready. Judging by their attention to her clothes, she had successfully hidden her discomfort.

"I appreciate you guys coming despite not knowing her."

"Don't even worry about it." Dexter held his hips in a superhero pose. "I can't think of something better—I mean... what the hell am I trying to say?"

"It seems like the right thing to do," Drake finished.

"And it looks better than I imagined," said Shannon, goggling at the dress.

One more time, Jessica breathed in and then out. "Let's go."

From the safehouse, they walked a short distance before a garden of thick trees enveloped them. A row of gravel preceded the dirt path, the path leading between a crescent gap, through the forest of fluttering leaves. Bark bent on either side and overhead, an invitation with a waypoint to their destination, where they found the terminus of the grove marked by an empty road of asphalt. Above them rose a sky checkerboarded by cloud and sunlight that, together, divined an atmosphere of pale white. The white rays blessed their surroundings with a subtle, natural tone as they stood on the roadside.

11:01.

Before long, a sleek, white van approached their waiting space and drove to a steady halt. The front door opened, and around the bumper of the vehicle sauntered a slim young man wearing a white dress shirt and Yamaka. As soon as he laid eyes upon the group, he smiled warmly. "Good morning," he said, ushering them in. The passenger door automatically slid open.

"Morning," Jessica said back. She was first inside the spacious interior. Her friends followed with a soft "good morning" to the kind boy who would serve as their chauffeur. He took the wheel after courteously checking that everyone settled comfortably. Afterward, they started toward their destination.

Silence accompanied the drive. They stuck to the road and resorted neither to flight nor shortcuts. Nearly thirty minutes of practical silence peering beyond the windows, and Jessica did nothing else. Trees, distant mountains, nature, every little breath of the world painted her view along the way. That and a single comment by Shannon.

"The sun shines today also."

"Emerson," Jessica recalled.

Drake sighed. "I'm still not getting used to the quiet."

"You don't have to get used to it. Just appreciate it."

When the van finally stopped, the young man carefully ushered Jessica and her friends back outside, unfolding a black umbrella on her behalf. Off-put at first, she said, "Thank you" and wrapped delicate fingers around the handle. The boy maintained his warm smile, nodding.

Jessica froze at the sight of a green hill, a hill, and a cemetery. A single man stood near the very top, among the graves, waiting. It was picturesque, a man in black standing underneath a sky whose sun lay torn between clouds and clarity. The sun would disappear near the stroke of Noon. Taking a deep breath, she started past the stone fence and iron gate. Slowly, as if walking on glass, her friends followed.

She proceeded up the blades of grass, closer to the man in black until she better visualized his facial features. He appeared old but healthy, wrinkles on a fresh-kempt and light complexion. Most natural to him, he had a warm white smile and soft blue eyes.

"Shalom, Jessica," he said.

Jessica shook his hand. "Morning, Mr. Sanders. Thanks for helping this happen."

"It's Levi, please. And don't think anything of it. You called, and I immediately remembered you. Because Beth considered you family. The way she spoke, at least, I cannot imagine otherwise. Which means, I shall regard you as she did."

Feet rooted into the dirt, Jess dug nails into her palms. "I hope you know you didn't have to come all the way out here."

"This was as good a reason as any to come back." Levi peeked over Jessica, at her friends. "I was not sure if you would be alone. Times like these, loneliness is the last thing we must receive. God exists so that we may never know loneliness, but He also made you, me, and us. How would you ever grasp His love if you did not see it in His creations? But, I am happy your friends came with you."

"I'm lucky, Levi."

Studiously, the old man looked her up and down, the whole of her sorrowful figure. "Are you well, Jessica?"

"I am fine," she lied.

He returned a sly nod, eyeing the girl's inner turmoil.

"God, I almost forgot." Jessica undid the necklace around her neck. "You should have this. It's what she left behind."

Levi somberly eyed the necklace in the palm of her hand, and very subtly shrunk away, at first. Then he coughed a raspy air of sorrow into his shoulder before clearing his throat and reaching out. He reached out to enclose Jessica's pale fingers around the memento. "It's yours," he said. "Take it wherever you go. She would have preferred it that way."

Speechless, Jessica maintained a firm grasp on the star. Her body felt like a trembling shell of an icy prison. A little warmth went a long way.

"Now," Levi uttered, "I'll leave you a moment."

He approached Jessica's friends and began introducing himself. She could hear Shannon's lively greeting as they began on the topic of how they knew Beth.

Beth.

Jessica inched closer to the grave site until the epitaph lay pristinely legible. She became deaf to her surroundings, settling her knees on the grass lest they collapse again. One tombstone. One star. One soul. Blossoms already proliferated just below the name.

Bethany Beatrice Sanders: 2053-2129.

"I never know what to say unless you're standing right in front of me, but I feel lost. I'm not lost. It's the feeling I can't get away from. Part of me wants everything to go back to how it used to be before I felt the fire in my veins and remembered why the world is unfair. If it were up to you, you would probably accept this outcome. You would accept a world that's, you know, a little less dark and a little more grey. 

"I never told you this, but when I was in high school, I used to sit in the dark and wish my thoughts away. I could never sleep, and if I did, I woke up from nightmares that left my mind alive and my body dead. Like I was stuck in a shell. I wanted to break free, but I realized that as free as I could be I'd always be lost. Isn't emptiness just another kind of prison?  

"Right now, I'm still sitting here with oceans cradling across my brain, and I just want to run the net across every problem before it happens. But, I barely see a point with all the variables beyond the horizon, and it pisses me off me even though it shouldn't.

"I can't hack it by myself, anymore. I can't predict what comes next—if I won't freeze the next time something falls out of place. If you were here... You never failed me, yet I epically screwed up when you needed me most. I'm sorry—" 

On the fringe of a mental breakdown, Jessica met a specter. Whether a ghost, hallucination or flight of utter fancy, Beth stepped above the grave.

Jessica Teresa Leibniz...When I say that, what does it mean to you?

"A lot of things."

And what do you want it to mean?

"A lot of things."

...I think it will mean the world one day.

Jessica looked up with a face full of tears and saw nothing. Having lost track of time, she turned from the grave and saw her friends, Shannon and Valerie, who stood within reach, quiet concern embalmed in their eyes.

"You okay?" said Valerie.

Jessica wiped the tears with her sleeve. "Yea."

Shannon quietly stared at the grave.

"She would want us to keep going," Valerie said optimistically. "I think she would. Don't you?"

"More like, she wouldn't want us to stop," Jessica replied, rising to her feet.

Shannon fought back a tear, speaking with knots in her throat. "I keep thinking about what she said about living in the moment."

"You'd think everyone and their mothers would know that, but leave it to someone like Beth to get you to listen. A million years later, she'd be motivated. Death won't stop that now."

All of them watched from the top of the hill, waiting as noon quietly approached with its veil of clouds. Even after the sun disappeared, they remained standing.

***

Under the sway of a wicked night sky, traffic was fine. Could've been worse. Jessica couldn't find a reason to care, really. Sitting featly on the precipice of yet another tower ledge, she beheld the vast night skyline and considered the wonders she might unravel beneath it. Just before the sun went down, a gnarly rainbow arced over the superstructures, which entailed an interesting contrast to the drapes of graffiti coloring an entire swath of urban terrain. The rainbow almost overpowered the red neon of the damn billboards directly in front of her face.

Her gaze lifted from the Broke Cola sign to the Zenith of the old world, leaning back as her hands ran across cold concrete. Then she sighed, staring sideways at the electronic billboard greeting all city newcomers. "Welcome to Hellebore," it read, above a slogan painted and replaced by new words in graffiti, "Now, get the fuck