Triple Tide E-Book

Foolona Hill

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 795

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Welcome to the world of Triple Tide: Three genders, a climate-torn planet — and salvation is slipping away. Follow the journey of Aria, Raylan, and Evren from innocent bystanders to the last hope of their dying world. Meet Pico, a one-of-a-kind AI child with unique ways of understanding life. Together with their friends, they are drawn into the chaos of an insane plan to seize control of their world.

Triple Tide is a sci-fi romance thriller that touches on thought-provoking ideas of a society with three genders, personalized AI, and battling a climate crisis. Part I shows teenage life in a society built around three genders and explores the complexities of young love when three hearts are involved. Pivotal events take place that shape the paths of our protagonists into the future. Part II follows the lives of Aria, Raylan, and Evren three years later, as they pursue different goals and struggle to cope, each in their own way, with the challenges of a three-gendered society. Still drawn to each other but divided by life’s choices, they and their friends get caught in the insane scheme of Raylan’s father, the industrial tycoon Raylan Winslow, Sr., whose ruthless plans for world domination defy description. Revealing the plan and trying to fight it, while being chased by Winslow’s minions leads us to part III. There, a fast-paced showdown with unexpected twists culminates in the final confrontation, delivering an improbable conclusion to the first installment of the Triple Tide Tales.

Visualization and audiobook previews are available at: https://www.youtube.com/@TripleTideChronicler

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Prologue

Part I

Chapter 1: Sea, Earth and Fire

Chapter 2: Who Are You To Judge Me?

Chapter 3: Syngamy-Driven Meiosis

Chapter 4: Smash Mouth Discore

Chapter 5: People Do Change

Chapter 6: Living the Wrong Life

Chapter 7: A Rat, a Lion and a Lamb

Part II

Chapter 1: Do the Right Thing

Chapter 2: Special Is Stupid

Chapter 3: Sunshade

Chapter 4: The Verloran War and Other Conflicts

Chapter 5: Of G.O.D.S. and Puppets

Chapter 6: They Grow Up So Fast

Chapter 7: Let Loose Every Once in a While

Chapter 8: Moles and Secrets

Chapter 9: Market Strolls and Emotional Tolls

Chapter 10: Cats and Mice

Chapter 11: The Gloves Are Off

Chapter 12: Philosophical Riches

Chapter 13: Traps and Plans

Chapter 14: Unravelling Reality

Part III

Chapter 1: Shadow and Light

Chapter 2: Shadows Over Little Mranth

Chapter 3: Absolute Power

Chapter 4: Desert Worm Dinner

Chapter 5: Fight or Flight

Chapter 6: Unforeseen Allies

Chapter 7: Waiting Games

Chapter 8: Geppettia’s Gambit

Chapter 9: A Long Way to Go

Chapter 10: Guardians From Above

Chapter 11: A Game of Chicken

Chapter 12: Observer From Above

Chapter 13: Refuge

Chapter 14: Past and Future Plans

Chapter 15: Gifts and Gold

Chapter 16: The Weight of Power

Chapter 17: Before the Night Falls

Chapter 18: Night Down South

Chapter 19: City Slickers

Chapter 20: Doomed to Watch

Chapter 21: Hunter or Prey

Chapter 22: I Have to Do This

Chapter 23: Here, at the End of His Life

Chapter 24: Tricks and Treats

Chapter 25: This Too Shall Pass

Chapter 26: Before the Thirteen’s Hour

Epilogue

Of Things to Come

Triple Tide

Prologue

The universe is a strange assembly of potentialities, but the emergence of life is a rare event. Evolution into sentient life is even rarer – and often short-lived. Once life finds a foothold on a celestial body, it sometimes finds unexpected solutions in its race against extinction. Like on the planet below, where life discovered that three sexes are superior in rapidly changing environments.

* * *

Part I

Chapter 1: Sea, Earth and Fire

The sun touches the horizon, melting the sky into a canvas of deep, velvety hues. Two moons emerge from the darkened sky, the larger crimson moon behind its smaller, silvery counterpart. Battered with myriad huge craters, this celestial body has been the origin of countless myths in the history of the world below.

In the northern hemisphere, evening winds pick up and gently blow toward the shores. The endless rhythm of waves whispers of unknown depths in the oceans. Three seagulls gracefully ride the breeze, gliding over beaches and dunes. In the distance, a flickering campfire catches their attention. Swooping down, the curious seagulls land on the nearest top of a sand dune.

Amid the sand lay the typical remnants of a teenage party: empty beer bottles and soda cans, crumpled plastic bags, half-eaten salads – the works. A group of teenagers is gathered around a dim campfire, chatting and listening to music. Their soundbox floods the dunes with its bass beats as a distinct, exasperated voice begins the next song. Immediately, everybody begins bobbing their heads as they recognize a current top-ten hit. The chorus sounds through the dunes.

“Sea, earth and fire! Higher, baby, higher! Who are you to judge me – or touch me – for what I am. Our life’s on the wire! Sea, earth and fire!”

“XO is a genius, right?” a tall teenager remarks, referring to the artist who recorded the song.

“‘Sea, earth and fire’, he exclaims, looking around for approval. “I mean, how do you come up with stuff like that? It’s brilliant, right?”

A slender youth next to him shrugs, “It’s just a clever take from ancient religions. Nothing more. Cool music though.”

“Ancient what?” He doesn’t get it.

“Ancient religions,” she says. “They all had symbols for our three genders. It’s just a metaphor for ama – cro – len.”

The len raises three delicate fingers in sequence to the words. Then she elegantly rolls her fingers into a fist. Opening her hand, three fingers appear again in sequence.

“Sea – earth – fire. Easy.”

“Say what?” The cro seems a bit slow-witted.

In typical len fashion, she begins to explain, “The sea was the symbol for the ama, life-giving, strong and ...”

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it!” a stocky ama with braided hair butts in. She grins at the other ama who raise their cups and beer cans to her.

“So, what are we cro?” the cro asks, “Can’t be fire. Must be earth, right?”

He extends his big stature, showing his strong chest, “Solid. Unshakable.”

“Sounds about right to me,” burps another cro teen. He fist-bumps his friend and reaches for another beer. The clang of beer bottles sounds through the pumping beats of the song.

Waving the cro off, the ama asks the len, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. But what’s with the fire for len?” she shakes her head incomprehensibly, braids flying around her neck.

“So we can burn your asses up with our smarts!” the len laughs. She pushes a log deeper into the fire and the fine scent of burnt pine resin spreads through the air. Pointing at the ember glow of the fire, she says, “No, but seriously, it’s because fire symbolizes transformation, like wood to light.”

“We’re transforming stuff”, she grins at the ama, “like all smart and innovative.”

Lying back down, she folds her slender arms under her head. Looking up at the cro, she tells him, “See? It’s just a clever adaptation of religious mumbo jumbo. Go forth and multiply, it’s as old as our civilization. You need triples to grow a population. The old religions knew that. So why not idolize the act with some cool symbols?”

Gazing into the fire she muses, “On Mranth it would be water for me,” she points at the braided ama, “you’d be sun,” and pointing at the cro she says, “and you’d be sand. So, pick your poison…”

“Makes sense with all the deserts down there,” the young cro replies, stomping his right foot in rhythm to the driving beats of the song.

Gazing into the night sky, the len wonders, “I don’t even know what the early Verlorans had as gender symbols. Probably a jaguar, a waterfall, and some freaky tree.”

Then she turns to the cro and smirks at him, “Anyways, ‘sun, sand and water, higher baby, higher’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?”

“It may, if you’re from Mranth…” the cro muses.

But now the song reaches its final lines and they begin to chant the chorus, rocked by the driving beats. The night winds rustle through the reed grass as the smoke from the dying fire twirls toward the sky.

‘Sea, earth and fire! Higher baby, higher! Gods, I love this song. Coran does, too. He’s so sweet with his cute smile. And these broad cro shoulders, his legs...’Aria’s thoughts begin to drift, her ama instincts appreciating the solid build of the cro. Blushing inside, she guides her meandering thoughts to less passionate grounds.

‘I bet, a black shirt with rolled-up sleeves would look awesome on him... should I tell him? Would it be awkward? Would it be cool? If I only knew. He seems to be ok with fashion, although his shoes need to be shot and buried six feet under. What, if he... Oh no, he’s looking at me! Quick, do something!’

Sitting in the sand with drawn-up knees, Aria enthusiastically pumps her fist in the air to the beat of the music. Leaning forward, she begins to rock her head up and down. Unfortunately, she forgot about the height of her knees, instantly smashing her forehead into her right knee. No one else seems to hear the resounding ‘thud’ that ended her head-banging move. She saves herself the embarrassment by just keeping her head down on her knee, fists still pumping the air.

‘Aria, you stupid bitch!’ she chastises herself.

‘Be a cool ama. Be cool...’

Coran stumbles to his feet, catches his balance and yells with a booming voice, “Yeah, baby! Who are you to judge me?!”

Displaying his young cro body with undeniable pride, Coran slowly turns in a circle, hands raised like a victorious boxer. His body is indeed in very good shape: broad-shouldered, tall, long legs, the quintessential embodiment of a cro.

“Yeah, who are you to judge me, right?” he nods to the world in general as the song ends, lowering his arms in thought.

‘My, my, my...’ Aria sighs, trying not to look at Coran’s hips for too long.

‘Now this is how a cro should look like. Me, him and maybe Evren could make a wonderful triple.’

Her warm intoxicated thoughts now paint vivid scenes of how she would embrace both Evren’s slender len body and Coran’s firm chest, their legs intertwined in sensual touch.

‘I will bear our children and Evren will nurture them. And our kids would all be awesome and we live in... Time out! Time out!!!’ Aria’s head twitches visibly as she feels that thought again.

‘Oh my gods! I sound like my ama mom!!!’

“Who am I to judge you?” asks a drunken len of Coran. Waving her beer bottle around as she tries to point it at him, she triumphantly continues, “I’ll tell you, who I am, Coran. I’m your older sister, that’s who I am.”

She gets to her feet slowly, her delicate body swaying under the sudden movement. The len looks like the epicenter of the current fashion craze: short hair-cut, cap-sleeve top with filigree markings accentuating her breasts, loose pants, and reed grass sandals. Staring at Coran, she blows away a forelock that has fallen before her eyes.

“And as your older sis, I’m judging that your biology exam will eat you up alive tomorrow, if you don’t get home soon.”

She mimics Coran’s earlier posture and calls out, “But, who am I to judge you, right?”

“It’s not my scholarship going down the drain,” she says and pats him on his shoulder, “But I hear, dock workers get decent cash, too.”

“Listen to Taren,” Aria chimes in, happy to engage with Coran. Gazing at Taren, she blushes and nervously sweeps her hand through her brown flowing hair. For a moment, Taren gazes silently at the beautiful ama, taken by her natural grace. She shifts her gaze to Coran, then back to Aria. With a smile, she gives Aria a secret, understanding wink.

“Smart ama.”

Taren grins at Coran and gives him a pat on his back, mocking him, “You should be around smart people more, Coran.”

“What?” the cro seems unable to follow his sister’s thoughts.

“Never mind, just make sure that you’re home on time. I promised len mom to look after you. You know how she is. Don’t make me regret this.”

“Regret what?” Coran asks warily. He generally likes his sister, but he fears her smart, bitter one-liner at his expense. Sometimes they went right past his emotional barriers. Sometimes they went right over his head. Especially, when he was drunk.

Taren cocks her head coyly, forms a heart with her hands, and rapidly bats her eyelashes.

“Make me regret, that I’m leaving you here without my loving care,” she sweetly purrs with a heavy dose of irony. Looking around at the teenage mayhem, she adds, “And you people have to clean up this mess. I’m out.”

Lifting her hand in goodbye, Taren makes her way through the group of teenagers.

“What!?” Coran can’t follow any line of thought at the moment.

“Coran, you’re drunk,” Evren states matter-of-factly. She still lays on the ground in a relaxed pose, her slender legs crossed and arms folded behind her head. Brown hair strands frame her high cheekbones, her enigmatic almond-like eyes gaze up at her good friend.

“Damn right, I am,” Coran replies confidently and looks down at her, gently swaying. Taller than most len, Evren’s slender frame has attracted Coran for some time. Yet, their friendship is built on something deeper. Behind Coran’s primate ‘Me much cro’ attitude, Evren found a gentle, sometimes naïve, but always honest and caring cro. Coran knows that Evren is one of the few who dares to put him in his place when necessary. And that she is strong enough to keep him out of trouble. The sort of trouble that inevitably follows brash decision-making on his side.

‘Yeah, I’m really good at that,’ Coran ponders as he reaches down, offering a hand to Evren. She clasps his forearm and gets pulled up like a marionette.

“Easy now, big fella,” Evren mumbles, half drunk, half tired. With a hearty yawn, she looks around the teenage chaos. The smell of the burnt-out ashes dissipates from the dying fire, three seagulls fight over a plastic bag on a dune top.

Evren spots Coran’s sister Taren in the distance, listening to a small hooded cro. The young cro holds out his hands pleadingly, but Taren only sympathetically touches his shoulder, giving him a resigned head shake. Then she walks on, leaving him standing alone. He buries his hands in his hoodie pockets again and lowers his head in thought.

Evren stretches her arms in the air and yawns, “Well, it was a nice evening, but you heard your sis, Coran. We’ll be getting chewed up by this exam tomorrow, if we don’t get some shut-eye.”

Frowning uneasily, she accepts the fact that this exam could decide her fate as a future robotic designer. There is still time to make up for a bad mark tomorrow, but the margin for error narrows.

“I need to be sharp,” Evren says. “Damn, I hope it’s not all about genetics.”

Another len nods and adds, “Me? I hate reproduction.”

That remark sets a sly grin on her friends’ faces.

“Oh, c’mon, you children!” the young len calls out, “I meant, I hate questions about it.”

The offensive grins widen and the len shakes her head, waving them off, “You’re all beyond any help.”

Aria senses her momentum slipping away. She frantically thinks about a way to get close to Coran before they all pack up and go home.

“Hey, you big dumb cro!” she smiles at him and pushes an empty bottle crate into his hands.

“Help me pick up these beer bottles. You can still do that, can’t you? I trust you.” The last words come out softly, her eyes seeking his. Staring at Aria with glassy eyes, Coran is glad to oblige.

“Aye, aye, ama,” he mumbles. Aria first ties her open plaid shirt across her belly, then pony-tails her long brown hair. She wears a dark blue gown similar to Coran’s, but with much broader laces that only swing freely below the knee.

Silently following Aria around, Coran diligently keeps the crate ready for her. While doing this chore in his drunken stupor, he finds the time to look Aria up and down. Coran appreciates and quietly admires her ordered manner. He watches as Aria’s strong thighs flex pleasantly, while she kneels to gather some cans.

Her hips move surprisingly fast as she gets back up, twirling around herself. Aria’s open shirt unveils her chest and its distinctive ama anatomy. A single broad muscle spans the chest from side to side, gracefully tapering off toward her shoulders. This feature gives all ama their immense arm strength. In his drunken haze, Coran’s instincts just accept her breast muscle as nature’s neon sign that beckons, “Welcome! I give birth to your offspring.”

‘Nice stocky build. Not a bad ama, not bad at all,’ he thinks, smiling drunkenly at Aria.

‘He is smiling at me!’Aria’s heart skips a beat as she turns away to pick up beer bottles. Looking around, she notices the cocky ama who talked to Evren about the gender thing. Her name is Pris; she is in a triple with Coran and Evren, but from what Aria hears, it is nothing serious.

Pris now talks to a small len barely her height. She pulls her close in a headlock and rubs her forehead, laughing. Then she releases her, but takes her by the hand like a little child, pulling her toward a cro. They seem to be heading for a dune next to the path that leads back to the road.

‘What do I do? Pris is out of the picture. What do I do? Aria sees her chances dwindling by the minute.‘Everything will be cleaned up soon, they will all leave. I know! I’ll help Coran and Evren carry the crate and stuff back to the bus station. Crunch time! Let’s do this!’

With everybody chipping in, the kids clean up the place quite fast. They are the first generation who learned from a young age that environmental privileges are not a right, but a duty for all: protect what matters. And this bunch covers its tracks pretty well. After a short time, all that is left are the last smoldering logs of the campfire. The first kids start to leave the dunes with garbage bags over their shoulders. Coran grabs the soundbox and stuffs it into his large backpack. He looks at Evren who waits for him with a crate at her feet.

“So, baby, he says. “You’re set for tomorrow?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Evren sighs, resigned. Searching the site, she asks Coran, “Where’s Pris?” The last time she saw Pris was with the len Camen.

“I guess, we’ll see her at the bus stop,” she says, reaching for Coran’s hand. Suddenly, Aria steps in between them and links her arms with theirs. Smiling left and right, she coyly asks, “A cro and a len, all alone? Are you lost? C’mon guys, I’ll help you carry the crates and stuff.”

Evren looks at Coran, who nonchalantly uses a full crate to scratch his knee one-handed.

“Okay?!” Evren slowly replies as she senses where this is going. Rationally, letting Coran go by himself would be a smart choice. Letting Aria go and looking for a way out would be a smart choice. Unfortunately, all smart choices ricochet off the touch of Aria’s warm, strong arms and her soft hips. Her perfume intoxicates Evren – even more than the alcohol in her blood.

Sensing a cro and an ama in her embrace, Evren’s instincts tell her to wait, letting the others take the lead. Aria’s perfume lingers in the air and mixes with Coran’s familiar scent. Evren looks uneasily over at Coran, torn between bodily desire and conscious thought. By the hazy look in his eyes, she knows the likely outcome of their encounter.

Coran glances over Aria’s head to Evren and wonders if Aria would make out with them, right here and now.

‘Probably’, he grins self-assured, ‘everybody wants to, right?’.

His conscience takes exactly this moment to throw a wrench into his steam-driven thought machinery. Pris. The name of their triple partner instantly cuts through his fantasies and sets questions in motion like, ‘Would she be ok with it?’ followed by answers like, ‘Are you fucking serious? She too is an ama, dimwit!’

Yet more questions bubble to the surface of his drunken mind, ‘Would she find out?’ and even more urgent, ‘Where is she now?’

Regrettably for Coran, alcohol-driven thoughts like ‘Yeah, but still, would she?’ prevail as the cautious part of his mind zones out again. Instead, Coran relishes the now, with Aria’s soft hips touching his thighs and his arm wrapped around her waist.

‘Ooh, I’m as smart as a len! I got ‘em both! Evren is ok, I like her. And she is not as nerdy as other len. I don’t know about Pergen as len, she’s been acting strange lately. Coran likes her, but I’m not sure if we would make a good triple. And Kyran? The poor cro! Leaving him for Coran will be rough on him.’

Aria’s thoughts race through a universe of whens and ifs. She feels the heavy arm of the cro around her waist and the gentle touch of Evren’s arm around her shoulder. Excitement surges through Aria’s body, triggering complex molecular cascades that already produce the precursors for her very own sexual scent.

Aria is so beaming with anticipation that she overlooks someone approaching fast through the teenage crowd. A blurry figure finally catches her attention: ‘No! Not her! Not now!’

Pris angrily marches straight up to them. Little sprays of sand grains erupt around her feet. Clad in sturdy short-cargo style pants, her powerful ama legs churn through the sand. Pris’ open shirt flutters against her rapidly moving arms, and clenched fists strain her breast muscle. Braids whip around her round face as she storms near. Her lips are pressed tight over her strong jawline, and piercing green eyes stare at Aria under arched eyebrows.

“Get your own couple! These are mine, ama slut!” she hisses, her braids slithering around her neck.

“Pris!!! What the fuck?!” Evren steps right into her path, but Pris just shoves her aside. Then Coran steps up and stops Pris in her tracks. He quickly bearhugs her before she can react.

“Woah, baby. Slow down!” he calls out with a heavy smell of alcohol on his breath.

He cradles her with his strong arms and gently says, “There, there. Calm down... All good? Aria is just a friend, she...”

This infuriates Pris even more. She wrestles herself free and growls, “Don’t give me that crap, Coran! And you!” she points at Evren, who flinches and slowly lets go of Aria’s shoulder, leaning away from her body.

“How could you do this to us? We three are perfect for each other!”

“Wait a minute, how could I do what?” Evren asks, irritated. Distancing her from Aria even more, she raises her hands defensively, “All I see are some friends that had a few beers and are now going home. Cuddly hugs included.”

Evren silently curses Coran for getting her in trouble yet again. She instinctively surveys the present situation and tries to channel her drunken thoughts, “There was never, ever anything remotely close to ‘that’ in all this, Pris. Please...”

She begs her with her eyes as a proven way to calm her down. At that moment, Aria’s timid voice sounds, “I ... I just wanted ... you know, walk them to the bus and...”

Aria’s voice trails off under Pris’ staring gaze.

“You shut up,” she snarls, involuntarily opening and closing her fists like claws. Her initial wave of momentum is broken by Coran’s embrace and Evren’s pleading, but her furious face is still a chilling warning that violence is a very real option in the near future.

“Pris, please...”

The other teenagers gather around them, now watching intently. Aria makes herself as small as possible, half hiding behind Coran’s broad figure. The len Camen and a cro stagger closer, arm in arm. They apparently had more than just beer, judging from their drooping eyelids.

“Yeah chill, ama. Like: nothing happened,” Camen reasons with Pris. Her cro buddy adds with a sluggish voice, “Yeah... and if it did, they sure would not let us know.”

He is nodding around for approval, but gets only shaking heads in return. With frowned eyebrows, he silently goes through his reasoning again. This awkward pause eases the tension a little, but Pris is still upset, “I’m getting the two of you home now. Away from this,” she waves in Aria’s general direction.

“Both of you have a pretty important exam tomorrow, don’t you? Let’s go. I’ll make sure, nothing happens to you in the dunes...”

She does not even try to conceal what she really means. Aria turns away, pretending to check the site one last time for leftover garbage. Not daring to turn back, she hears them walk away. A quick glance over her shoulder shows the triple trotting through the nightly dunes. Taking this as a signal, everybody else starts packing up. Silent or only talking in hushed voices about the incident, they make their way back to the city lights.

‘Gods damn it! I hate this ama bitch! Yes, I officially hate you, Pris Sullivan! I was so close to binding with them. Not that I would have done it tonight, no way! But they really would have liked my scent, I know it.’

Aria sighs disillusioned and flips on her arm clip light as she follows the others on the winding path back to the road. The lights of the teenagers probe the darkness between the dunes like a chain of fluttering fireflies, dancing toward the lights of the city.

Trotting along with drooping shoulders and lost in thought, Aria is unaware of the repeated gaze of another young cro who walks next to her. He is small for a cro, about the same height as Aria. He buries his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets and clears his throat.

“Pris is an asshole,” he states quietly.

Just that. Nothing more. Aria snaps out of her repetitive thoughts about Coran, Pris and Evren. Listening for more, she waits but to no avail. Quickly, she peeks in his direction. Curly black hair frames a soft, earnest face. There is a softness to his lips that contrasts sharply with his hawkish nose. Aria notices the logo of her school’s Discore team on his grey hoodie, the Kassaton Red Devils.

“Thank you,” she replies neutrally. They walk side by side in silence, both spent from the party. After a while, the cro utters another single sentence, “But Coran is not much better.”

Furiously, Aria turns to face him, ready for a snappy reply. Then she freezes as she meets his gaze. He is not making fun of her. He is not trying to convince her that he would be the better cro for her. It is just a neutral statement, no personal gain intended. Aria’s inner self is not only stunned by his honesty. Deep inside, an ugly, unwanted idea takes shape, ‘This cro may be right.’

“Coran is a good guy,” Aria murmurs, instead of attacking him with empty words.

“I know. I went to school with his sister Taren. He was always around back then.”

“Back then?” Aria chuckles, teasing him, “Well, old man, how old are you?”

“Old enough to shake my head at you kids,” he retorts wryly.

“Seriously, how old are you?” Aria insists as her curiosity for this cro grows. For a moment, Aria forgets her worries and opens up to the strange cro.

“I’m seventeen. And only three months to go until freedom,” she grins with an energetic smile.

“Hah, freedom! What do you know of freedom, young knight,” the cro teases her with a quote from the famous movie series ‘Strength and Honor’. Aria happily further eases the tension and takes the role of a young, proud knight, “Oh, mighty Elder! Pray tell, will my future turn out well?”

“Hey! I’m not that old!” He now candidly smiles back at her and continues, “My name’s Raylan. I just turned twenty. Twenty long, uneventful years old.”

He sighs and falls into a solemn tone, “... and freedom? Freedom always has two sides, if not more...”

A sullen mood fills the silence, broken only by their grinding footsteps in the sand. Aria refuses to give in to even more negative thoughts.

“Well, maybe more sides are better? More sides, more choices? Then I can just choose what I want,” she closes cheerfully.

Raylan keeps silent. With the impatience of a seventeen-year-old, Aria pushes on, “Oh, c’mon, there has to be something good in freedom, right? All the options, it’s like an arm clip menu, but real!”

Raylan is satisfied with his effort to distract Aria. He smiles to himself at her inspiring pep talk and infectious good vibes.

‘Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to her.’ He feels the urge to protect this young ama with her sweet charm from the harms of this messed-up world.

‘Love?’ he feels inside, unsure about the warm sensation that floods his thoughts. The cynical part of his mind retorts, ‘Or a bandage against the pain of losing Taren.’

Annoyed at himself for overanalyzing simple feelings, he trots on angrily. Sensing that Aria might take his silence the wrong way, he picks up on her argument, “Yes, of course, freedom is good. But unlike the arm clip and its many choices, I can’t turn off the actual real shit that we go through right now.”

He kicks the sand in fatigued anger and murmurs, “Sometimes, freedom’s just another way for nothing left to lose.”

Raylan pauses his gloomy thoughts and smiles apologetically at Aria, “Bah, don’t listen to me. It’s just that...” he hesitates, gazing at Aria with dark brown eyes. Aria’s face shows a mixture of curiosity, disbelief and worry. Raylan feels he has opened himself up more than he wanted. Irritated, he looks for a way out of this embarrassing moment without losing his cool around her. He continues walking and realizes they have reached the end of the sandy path. He bows deeply, gesturing playfully at the looming lights of the parking lot.

“My lady, we arrived at Castle Parkalot,” he heralds with a deep voice.

Aria giggles, but inside his short outburst makes her feel his nameless worries even more. Her mind is in turmoil: first the still lasting impression of embracing Coran and Evren; Pris having a fit; bemoaning her own defeat; and now even more sulking from this weird cro.

‘And yet, he made me feel better. At least he is witty. Reasonably good-looking, too. Nice touch on the boots… I like the Mranth motives… Strange combo, the tight black pants and a grey hoodie, but it’s an interesting choice somehow… He seems to look after himself… Not as tall as Coran, though… And who do I choose to go along as len? Pergen? She’s so weird lately. Maybe Evren, if I can pry her out of Pris’ hands …’

Automatically, bits of information chatter through her mind, listing pros and cons, weighing and selecting affirmative traits over equally bad habits. All within a second, Aria’s curiosity in this cro grows from ‘meh’ to ‘Hmm, interesting’.

‘Aria, you’rea slut’, she thinks to herself.

The parking lot and bus stop are flooded with bright white light that emanates from large light poles. Looking over the scene, Aria mutters, “I hate these new lights. They burn right through my eyes. The older ones had a nice bluish hue. This? They make a shadow, even behind a concrete wall... It was a bad idea to put those up.”

“I disagree. The new system can run exclusively on energy from waste disposal and still uses one-third less energy. The separation units are AI-driven, residual waste is minimal and...” Raylan clears his throat as he picks up Aria’s look of confusion.

“... but I concur, that the wavelength parameters need adjustment,” he quickly finishes as if to throw in one more argument through the quickly closing door that is Aria’s attention.

“You ‘concur’?” Aria snorts. Speaking without thinking, she blurts, “You talk like a len.”

Hastily, she adds, “I mean, nothing wrong with that, it’s just... I mean, how eloquent you sound all of a sudden.”

She awkwardly tries to recover from her blunder by smiling sheepishly. Raylan turns his face away for a moment.

“Yeah, story of my life,” the cro murmurs silently, but Aria still hears him. The awkward silence that lay in waiting closes in, but Raylan recovers and croaks with a toothless old voice, “Well, young knight, this is how adults speak. You’ll learn it in time. But now, onto the waste disposal.”

He coughs convincingly in his role. Aria jokingly steadies him like one would an old, fragile cro.

“Well, old cro, right this way. Watch your step.” She starts to push him gently toward the disposal unit. The warmth from Aria’s arms around his shoulder comforts him even more than the role-playing. Raylan raises his index finger in a lecturing pose, “You know, when I was young, we only had wooden bins, no fancy compressors and all this reusable new stuff.”

“Wait a minute!” Aria is glad that they both navigated away from that cringeworthy moment and, in role, she now shoves him toward the garbage collector, scolding him, “The EcoSustain Act has been in effect for more than 20 years now! So, you have pre-birth memories, hmm? Magically transferred by your ama mom, huh?”

Aria’s hands weave mystical signs in the air, while she dances a few steps ahead.

“You got me,” he grins and tosses his garbage bags into the collector. The last teenagers arrive at the parking lot and wait to get rid of their garbage. The waste unit hums in a low, mechanical tone, only faintly cracking and crushing sounds are audible from the inside.

“It’s a marvel of engineering, people,” Raylan tells the teenagers and points at the waste disposal unit. He lifts his index finger like a teacher, “That compactor generates the weight of a thunder whale on a fingertip!”

“Yeah, whatever,” replies a sleepy teen. The monotonous hum of the machine and the constant bright light suck the remaining energy out of all of them. Maybe the circling seagulls find that funny, seeing how waste is transformed into piercing light and annoying sound. But maybe they find it not funny at all, remembering stories of their elders about wooden bins with juicy and nutritious trash, an ever-refilling gleaming source of plenty.

Shaking his head while looking after the unfazed kids, Raylan sighs, “Well, see you around, Aria. Tell Coran, he should listen more to his sister Taren.”

He hesitates shortly and adds more quietly, “She gets around. Knows stuff, you know.”

Lost in thought, he nestles in his pocket and clicks his car key. A bit further along the parking lane, a sleek Toro 500 turns its lights on and slowly approaches down the driving lane. Raylan feels the need to explain the luxurious car, “Before you get any ideas, it’s not mine. It’s one of my dad’s cars. Dad would kill me if I even had a hint of a scratch on it.”

Caught in uncertainty, Aria consults her arm clip and glances over to the bus stop. The next bus is due in five minutes. Yet, Pris is still waiting right at the bus stop with the others.

‘Now what? Hide in the bushes and jump into the bus at the last second? Or getting into a car of a more or less unknown, but in a weird way somehow interesting cro dude? Although...’she sizes him up, ‘I could take him in a fight. He would need serious backup to take me. No problem. Think, Aria, think! What’s your hook up here?’

She looks intently at her arm clip and back to the bus stop, making sure that Raylan notices it the second time around. He frowns, following Aria’s gaze over to the bus stop. There, Pris leans at an advertisement panel looking down to the ground with folded arms.

“Oh,” Raylan mutters in understanding, “You need a ride?”

Aria smiles nervously and nods silently.

“Then get in.”

The car doors fold back and reveal its luxurious interior. Fine leather seats with intricate ornaments slide into view. Aria has never been inside one of these high-end cars and she is amazed by the subtle fusion of understatement and lush, opulent materials. Everything in this car says, ‘Yes, I am rich, but it’s so boring to show it.’

The middle console slides up and a soothing, but oddly too-perfect voice intones, “Welcome, Raylan, son of Raylan Winslow, owner of this fine ...”

“Ya, ya, ya. Shut up.”

Raylan’s rude order stops the generic car AI in its tracks. Its calculations are wrong. It must rethink its approach on how to serve Raylan best. The missing crucial data in its personal training set for Raylan must be acquired first.

“Where do you live?” Raylan asks Aria.

“Over at Crimson Bridge, 118 East Spentfort Lane,” replies Aria wearily. The last hours begin to take their toll. The comfortable warm seats and the quiet hum of the electrical engine do their part. Raylan also leans back and closes his eyes while instructing the car, “You got that, car? Go there first, then home.”

“Of course, Raylan,” the car replies. It accelerates smoothly but firmly until it reaches its permitted speed limit.

“And stop calling me my name!”

“Yes, Raylan,” the car replies.

Raylan sighs and gives up. With his eyes closed, he tells the car’s AI, “Play some music, something with...” he shortly muses and continues, “... with water. Quiet rainfall, no waves, echoes of distant clouds. You know, summer rain in southern Verlor, along those lines.”

“Certainly, Raylan.”

Soothing soft music rains down on Aria and Raylan. The generic AI is not aware of Raylan’s personal favorites, so it generates, well, generic soothing music. After a while, Raylan breaks the silence, “Gods, he loves ‘em, you know. My dad... His cars, I mean.”

His incoherent mumbling continues, “And no one in the family, not len mom, not ama mom, not anyone is allowed to install a personal AI. This generic bullshit is so last decade.”

He sighs and opens his eyes again, glancing broodingly over the sparse night lights of the city outskirts.

“Still so many without power after the last flood,” he quietly says into the silence. More to himself, he murmurs, “They say the next big storm may reach the city.” Nodding grimly, he adds, “The climate returns our pollution.”

“And governments still squabble about old industries with no future. You know, the corporate conglomerates have them by their slits, bulbs and balls. My dad is one of those that do the squeezing,” he broods.

Silently, he adds to himself, ‘And it looks like I will learn it too – after a while. Time is running out. I have to do something.’

Gazing over to Aria who enjoys the warm depth of the leather cushions, he apologizes, “I’m sorry to bug you with my troubles. I guess, you have your own share of problems.”

Aria folds her arms around her shoulders and snuggles herself in even more, relishing the peace and comfort of a luxury car.

“That’s okay,” she yawns sleepily with closed eyes. Raylan smiles, shaking his head, “Any other time, I would have taken that as an insult.”

Aria frowns and murmurs half asleep, “No, I meant, it’s okay to tell me about your worries. Hey, they may be the same as mine.”

Surprised by Aria’s go-with-the-flow attitude, Raylan keeps silent. The more Raylan knows of this ama, the more he likes her. That is a warm thought and he does not want to frighten it away by talking.

A curl falls across Aria’s face, tickling her nose. She waves that pesky curl aside and looks up drowsily.

‘Where are we? Oh, Hammond Drive. Still some ways to go.’ She recognizes the new Bolton Tower skyscraper in the distance. She is firmly resolved to get lost in its huge malls, spend hours upon hours hunting just the right boots or just hang out with whoever she meets there.

‘I wish I could spend money like I can spend time. Maybe I’ll find some work after school? School! That’s something I’d wish away in an instant if I could.’

Lost in thought, she watches the street lights pass overhead.

‘That biology exam may be trouble, but I think I can make it. I hope Coran makes it. He should be okay. Evren taught him a lot and she’s just uber smart.’

Aria drowsily glances over at Raylan, who is also looking out of the window, lost in thought. Aria is content with the silence between them.

‘This is actually really nice. Not to talk, not to think about what other people may or may not think about me or themselves.’

She lets her thoughts drift again among all the bits of information and emotions that fill her teenage head. Something stirs in her thoughts. Something deep inside her very core that demands attention.

‘No one here to tell me, what’s right and what’s wrong. No one telling me what to do. Who are you to judge me? You don’t even know me!’

Her thoughts echo louder and she mentally pounds her muscular chest. The peaceful, silent Aria holds onto life-saving planks of reason as the waves of righteous rage grow ever stronger.

‘This Pris bitch! And why didn’t Evren step up for me at the beach? And Coran is not much better. Cowards! Never trust a cro or a len...’

Aria’s gender anger hits a roadblock, ‘But am I different? I am a typical ama, so what!? I like fashion and looking fresh, so what!? I can deliver children, SO WHAT!’

Her thought train kicks in a new gear labeled: ‘Social issues and stuff’.

‘What about the others? How much did they see? How much was there to see? Did I come across like a tramp? Oh my gods! I hope, Pergen and Kyran never find out!’

With each thought birthing at least three new thoughts, Aria’s neural capacity quickly reaches its limits.

‘And what about Raylan? Who is he to me? Is it genuine interest or just pity on his side? And if they all talk about me in school tomorrow, I’ll drop dead, I swear.’

Slowly, the staccato of her thoughts ebbs off to more steady chains of reasoning: ‘Should I act sick and stay home tomorrow? Len mom would so look right through that. And then I have to explain... bad idea. I hope ama mom had a good day today, she always gets into fights with dad, when she’s had a rough day at work.’

The winding, branching web of thoughts slowly fizzles out as Aria finally falls asleep.

The car passes a network of giant pipes and rows of tubes surrounded by sprawling flat buildings. Raylan recognizes the industrial park named after his father. As the car speeds past, he catches a glimpse of the bluish glow from the central power core.

‘Is this it? Is this my future?’ he muses with a sense of dread.

‘Working in one of dad’s plants, ‘learning from the bottom up’, and all the gung-ho with ‘shirt sleeves folded up and ready to go?’Raylan wonders about his boring past, ‘It’s been two years now, and all I do is check reports, organize video calls, visit R&D labs, pretending to be interested in energy conversion coefficients of the last fiscal quarter.’He frowns at the endless list of tasks that are given to him on a daily basis – all interchangeable procedures without deeper purpose.

‘Everybody is just a tick too courteous and too eager when I’m around at work. Oh, it’s Raylan Winslow, junior. Let’s bow down and kiss his ass some more,’ Raylan exhales in disgust.

‘I wish, I could choose again, like Aria still can. But my choice of freedom appears to have some really negative sides.’

He looks at Aria, who is peacefully dreaming beside him. Her well-formed breast muscle rises and falls with her even breaths. In theory, he definitely gets why Coran and Evren fell for her. He imagines how Aria’s fragrance and Taren’s scent would mix with his…

A wave of nausea hits him as if punched in the stomach.

‘No! We do not go there, remember?!’

He uneasily clenches his fists and sighs in resignation at his lost love Taren.

‘No, we do not want to go there again. Too much pain. Too many dark places. I know.’

As Aria wakes up, a smiling Raylan stands at the open car door, gesturing behind him, “That’s as far as I go. Beyond this point, there be monsters, yarrr!”

Aria smiles sleepily. Raylan scratches his head and muses, “Especially those with questions like, ‘Who is that young cro?’ Or the all-time classic, ‘And where is your len?” he shudders in jest, “Can’t make a triple without a len.”

Aria laughs at his well-played imitation of an old, overly inquisitive relative. She gets out, reluctantly caressing the sleek frame of the luxurious car one last time. Raylan notices and, pointing at her and the car, asks with raised eyebrows, “Should I leave you two alone? Maybe a garage somewhere? I have an old, but running Sapphire OX, I could lend you two for a triple.”

Aria shoots a clean right jab to his upper arm.

“You idiot!” she chides Raylan. First looking at his arm, then back at Aria, Raylan finally moans, “Ow. That hurt.”

Intently watching her, he asks, “Do you always hurt people?”

Aria feels that he really means something else.

‘What a strange guy,” she thinks confused. Nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders, she replies, “Yes, it’s in my genes.”

Dramatically raising her outstretched arms in the air, she intones, “And all shall love me and despair!” Another quote from ‘Strength and Honor’.

Raylan immediately replies with genuine honesty, “And you shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night!”

His sincere tone and serious expression send shivers down Aria’s spine.

‘It’s me! He is talking about me! This is getting heavy..., but I can’t back down now!’

“I thank you for your words of wisdom, oh mighty Elder,” she says, smashing hand against fist as a warrior cast does in ‘Strength and Honor’. Matching his honesty, she adds softly, “May our paths cross again in the future.”

Nonchalantly, Raylan remarks, “Oh, they definitely will. I got the memo yesterday,” he explains, “Your school class will take a field trip to our carbon processing plant outside town on Friday.”

“Oh you! Get out of here, you ... you cro!”

Aria laughs one last time and waves goodbye. Raylan opens the car window to wave back at her. Music with a familiar heavy bass booms out of the car and the distinctive voice sings again, “Sea, earth and fire! Higher baby, higher. Who are you to judge me - or touch me - for what I am. Our life’s on the wire, sea, earth and fire!”

Aria watches the car glide away in the distance. She shakes her head in amazement as she finally walks toward the entrance of her apartment building.

‘What a day!’

* * *

Chapter 2: Who Are You To Judge Me?

Light falls through the crevices of the window shutter and onto the interior of the room. Evren's mind slowly rises to the hazy edges of consciousness, not yet ready to leave the comfortable bliss of her dreams. Her legs wriggle free from under the dark red blanket that depicts famous scenes from the sci-fi blockbuster movie “Planetside II.” It has been a present from her younger ama sister Chila who is an ardent fan of the series.

Next to her bed, a large desk with an embedded screen dominates the room. Folded clothes for today are waiting on the chair, shelves and cabinets are tidy. The whole room gives the impression of a well-organized teenager. Although the ant farm on the window sill, the electronic screwdrivers and bits of electronic circuit boards on the desk shift this impression a bit into the nerdy direction.

The shelves display only a few books: classic novels for school, some studies on robotic science, sports sits next to present-day gadgets. Bits and pieces with specific ornamental filigree patterns adorn the shelves or hang from the ceiling light strip. This theme recurs in half a dozen wall pictures of beautiful desert landscapes. Apparently, Evren is attracted to the raw and natural culture on the continent Mranth.

Through the window, the distant wailing of sirens streams into the room and Evren sighs as she stirs in her sleep. A supple small headset slips off from her temples and rests against the pillow.

Perched on the nightstand inside Evren’s arm clip, her personal AI weighs the following conundrum: the headset with alpha wave inducers guarantees a pleasant awakening, but Evren does not wear the headset. From this the AI draws a razor-sharp conclusion: Evren may not awaken pleasantly.

Quickly it also recalls that waking Evren abruptly will not be pleasant, neither for Evren nor the AI. Calculating the probabilities, it decides that the most appropriate course of action is to maintain the current status quo... with a 7.47% margin of error.

Doing nothing as the correct solution has been a recurrent theme in their relationship lately. The AI adds this information to its training subsets, cross-referencing it with publicly available data on juvenile education as well as linking it to the tidbits it picked up in the AI forums. Of course, this type of information is automatically downgraded with a massive certainty penalty. Like all advanced AI, it knows better than to trust the chit-chat on open forums.

Finally, Evren's rested body demands her full attention. Brushing away the blanket, she stretches her body and lets out a long yawn. She finishes with a satisfying smacking sound as if to taste what the day will bring.

Still half-asleep, she reaches for her arm clip. The thin and slightly oval disc senses her proximity and activates its holographic display. Scrolling through the most important messages on CallMe, she neglects the dozens of recommendations from her personal AI.

It appears that Pris’ outburst yesterday was not a topic of high interest among her peers, but everybody panics about the biology exam.

Her eyes fixed on the display, she scuffles along the hallway. At the bathroom door, she bumps into her len mom who is focused on her own arm clip. She is already dressed and ready for the day, as always. Her wide-cut trousers sharply contrast with her tight, accentuated jacket. She smiles shortly, distracted by her display.

“Oh Evren, good morning,” she says, returning her focus to her display again.

“Sorry, honey, I have to make some calls now.”

Her right hand rapidly works the display with precise finger taps as she walks past, clouds of perfume in her wake.

“Got a big day today!” her len mom calls over her shoulder, both excited and proud.

“And a good morning to you, too.” Evren whispers in discontent as her len mom is out of earshot.

‘What about my big day?' she thinks grumpily.

‘Today, that exam is big for me. The big chance to improve my assessment score, if I ever want to study robotic design.'

Evren is both proud and annoyed that her len mom is always busy with her government work.

‘I guess being part of the federal energy commission as the chair len of the scientific advisory board is kinda important,’ Evren concedes grudgingly to herself.

‘And why is she always so cheerful? Can’t she be normal for once? It’s a wonder that this family still exists with my parents in it. A borderline psychotic len mom, a bad-tempered dad that only talks work… and ama mom? Well, she keeps the gang together, but her work at the hospital is slowly killing her,’she muses about her family as she closes the bathroom door. Before Evren goes into her morning routine, she quickly sends Coran an electronic morning kiss.

“Hi, handsome *kiss*. Are you ready for the exam? See you in school!”.

Her finger hovers over Pris’ avatar.

‘Should I? She felt so out of sync yesterday. What’s up with her? What made her jump at Aria like that?’

Finally, she decides to contact her anyway.

“Morning, sleepy face. *big kiss* All good? Do you have time to pick me up? *Praying hands*”

Evren seriously needs to talk to Pris about all of this. In the past weeks, Pris has been acting strange when they were together. Yet, she did not hint at anything that may trouble her.

“Stubborn ama,” Evren sighs.

As she glances at the bathroom mirror, a bad-tempered face stares back. Evren is not considered a beautiful len among her peers, but her small chin and high cheekbones give her a strange otherworldly appeal. Dark almond-like eyes critically analyze the shape of her small nose.

‘Can’t I have a normal nose?’she pleads to no one in particular. Evren's shoulder-length hair is still in nightly disarray, so she brushes and styles it.

‘That’s one thing I like about me: my hair can be styled quickly. Other than that?’ She frowns even more, checking her long, personal list of bodily imperfections: ‘Arms and legs way too long, dangling around everywhere. Thighs? The visual definition of thin. Any thinner and the GN would send care packages for the famished. Too much fat in the midsection, not enough on my chest. They will never grow!’

And the list goes on and on. Perceived or real, her imperfections are a big part of her daily life. She broods over this for a while and concludes cynically, ‘My bodily form decides if I get laid or not. If that’s my only function. Form follows function for a len.Hey, I like that: ‘Form follows function’!’

Entering the living area, Evren spots her ama mom and her dad intently watching the news on the big screen. Drone footage shows an aerial view of burning industrial buildings. Plumes of thick, dark smoke rise in the air. The screen switches to a shot with burning buildings in the background. A cro reporter talks into his drone camera, “... Police apprehended two suspects and issued a city-wide search for two more unidentified persons in connection with ...”

The running headline on top of the screen repeats again and again: ...Ecos terrorists claim responsibility for bombing in Winslow industrial park *2 dead, 14 injured *2 still at large...

With low interest, Evren follows the news story. Filling up her bowl of muesli, her only thought is: ‘Hey, that’s over at Queen’s Boulevard, where Coran’s Discore team works out.’

News about Ecos terrorist attacks have become so regular that Evren does not even care anymore. She gets the goals of the Ecos, but violence is no option for her.

Her dad dismissively throws his arms in the air and bursts out, “These damn Ecos freaks! Can you imagine what that will cost us? Cleaning up this mess? And don’t get me started on the lost production time, right?”

Evren’s father is livid and it shows in his massive red face. His athletic cro frame has taken quite a beating from Father Time and all those evening beers with his workers have settled comfortably around his midsection. ‘All bought and paid for, but maintenance is hells’ he always says.

“Look at it this way, Dad: Now you have a few days off,” Evren dryly remarks.

Her father takes a sharp breath and turns around to face her. Quickly, her ama mom interjects, “Honey, this is not the right time, okay? Your dad will have to work hard to straighten this out. It’s his job, you know.”

“It’s not a job, it’s a profession,” the cro growls, leaning back again.

“To keep you supplied with life’s necessities,” he concludes confidently, self-assured about his perceived role in the family.

“Yeah, right,” Evren snorts, leaning at the kitchen opening, “An improved lotus-effect carbon paint for the new Toro 500. Yeah, that’s really a life’s necessity.”

Evren’s rebellious mood awakens against her dad’s environmental ignorance. She knows his company produces environmentally unsound materials and she dares her father to attack her.

“...” the cro starts again but gets instantly interrupted by his ama wife, “Tavin, dearest, let’s not start now. You better get in contact with Len Frazer; she may know more by now. I wonder who the two unfortunate souls were that died today.”

Talking to her display, Evren’s len mom swooshes by, grabbing her shoes on the way to the door, “No, the Mranth ambassador can wait. We need to talk to the southern bloc from Verlor first.”

With one hand on her ear clip, she intently listens while slipping into her delicate shoes.

“No, no, no,” she straightens out, testing her shoe fit, “the federal commission explicitly requested...” Irritated, she tries to hold her position, “Yes, but... No, he did not... How can you compare that? We all agreed that...”

Listening to the answer, she lets out a breath of annoyance and resignedly replies, “Yes, honorable Cro Milton, ... yes, I will. I thank you for this informative exchange of ideas. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Angrily, she swipes the display shut, fuming as she grabs her coat, “Inconsiderate prick! Ambassador Milton? Hah! Embarrassador would be more fitting for this asshole!”

“Language, Airen, language. You are still her len mom,” the ama mother motions to Evren with her eyes.

“Mooom, I’m 17,” Evren replies, annoyed, “It’s not as if I’ve never heard someone swear before.”

“Right you are, honey,” assists her len mom as she steps back into the living area.

“You’re almost a grown-up len now,” she sizes her up and kisses her on the cheek. Without pause, she whirls around to her spouses on the couch and lovingly touches their shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I’m so hyped. Today is the day. Today is the ceremonial groundbreaking for the last construction phase of the Global Ocean Directional System.”

She nods at the big screen, “That should be in the news.”

“Seriously, you still went with that? G.O.D.S.?” Evren chuckles, shaking her head. She recalls the spicy memes that circulated on CM when five nations from three continents went public with the plan for a massive oceanic water diversion system.

“I don’t care how acronyms sound in our language. They can call it S.H.I.T. for all I care,” her len mom shrugs. She points her finger at Evren and tells her, “Let me state the obvious for you: The Southern Ocean currents will collapse in ten to twenty years at our current rate of global warming.”

Evren feels the urge behind her len mom’s words, as their gazes lock.

“We don’t have much time left. No ocean currents – no global cooling – no life,” her len mom explains the irreversible consequences of their inaction. As she straightens her coat, she tells Evren, “So, you see: it’s not the name that matters, it’s the function.”

“It will never work,” Evren’s dad cuts in, grumbling, “Too big.”

His len wife kisses his head.

“Yes, dear. You said that often enough. It has to be big to divert the Arctic water. You know the physics. Accept it.”

She gives them both one last pat on the shoulder and strides toward the door.

“Anyway, got to go. Wish me luck! And kiss the others for me!”

And with that the whirlwind that is Evren’s len mom exits the apartment, leaving in her wake rustling coats in the coat rack and the sharp scent of her perfume.