Beyond The Impossible

Null Tower, New York City

The crowd gathering in front of the skyscraper is an unusual sight. Not for its size, but because of how many faces repeat: most of the people are Myridian duplicates.

Noriko Null is looking at the crowd from the window of her bedroom, when someone knocks at the door despite it being open.

<Can I get in?> Bob Null asks.

<Yes Father, I wouldn’t have left the door open otherwise.>

<Better safe than sorry. I know you value your privacy, but then I remembered your boyfriend isn’t from around here.>

<Kylon isn’t here, he stayed in Antarctica.>

<Oh. Is there some problem between you two? Because I’ve been doing some reading about the Lar, and I was wondering if the men not having external…>

<Dad, can you not? For once?> she pleads.

The fact that she switched from “father” do “dad” immediately signals him that she’s distressed, and only now Bob notices the envelope she’s holding in her hands.

<I was trying not to talk about your birthday. I know you don’t like it.> he says.

<I hated celebrating it even before this thing. Now the whole freaking Galaxy won’t stop reminding me of it.> Noriko says, waving the envelope.

<Is that a letter? I didn’t think anyone still mailed them.>

<I got from Mother nine years ago. Well, it was probably written by a secretary.> Noriko says, handing it over to her father. He reads it out loud:

<“Meet me at the Empire State Building, 87^th floor, next Friday at eight PM. Don’t tell anyone. Leiko Tanaka, your mother.” You never told me about the letter.>

<Well the same night I went to see Mother I also received the Nexus from Athena, I met Vesta and Max, and we all ended up on the Moon fighting for our lives… I had a lot in my mind that day, even discounting absorbing all of humanity’s knowledge. I threw the letter back at Leiko at the end of our first encounter… including the hundred dollars that were inside the envelope.>

<Must’ve been tempting to spend them.>

<It was the most money I had ever seen in cash. Being paid to keep the secret that she had abandoned me felt so insulting that it made me decide to do it for free.>

<If you threw the letter back, why do you have it?>

<It was still at the Scion Corporation headquarters when I bought it… Leiko just shoved the letter in her desk. It was addressed to me, so it ended up in my hands again; I haven’t opened it since I got it the second time, it’s been sitting in my socks drawer for years.>

<I’m surprised you didn’t simply shred it. Or told me about the letter.>

<I guess I must’ve thought that as long as only a handful of people knew Leiko is my mother, in some way she wouldn’t really be my mother. It’s been a little over nine years… I’ve killed fourteen gods, I’ve been to four other galaxies, I’ve died and come back to life, I became a freaking Empress… people literally worship me as a goddess, and I’m still pretending that Leiko is not my mother. Some “smartest girl in the universe” I turned out to be, uh?>

<Noriko, look outside the window. That crowd of people that worship you, do you really think they care about Leiko? She’s rotting in a prison paying for her crimes. What she did doesn’t reflect on you; you’re better than her, you’ve always been and you’ll always be. Do you know why your birthday is a holiday, Noriko? Because despite Leiko, people love what you are and they’re happy you were born. And so am I.>

<So you agree that publicly acknowledging that Leiko is my mother is a good idea?>

<If it can make you feel better, go for it. Today you turn 27, Noriko, you’ve been your own woman for quite some time now. Stop letting Leiko prevent you from enjoying your birthday.>

Noriko ponders for a few seconds. She may not like being the subject of veneration, but seen from above those people seem so happy to believe their own little lie.

<I’m still not eating cake.>

 

Boreas, 3.000 light-years from Earth

Leiko Tanaka hasn’t seen anyone in two months. Her cell has no windows and she’s not permitted any visitors; her food is teleported inside the cell, and once a week she’s sedated long enough to allow her cell to be cleaned and to give her a physical examination and a bath.

Only the most loyal subject to Null’s rule are allowed to be in the same building of Leiko; any attempt to communicate with the outside world is severely prohibited.

The population of the Winter Kingdom knows she’s imprisoned, but the details of her harsh punishment have been classified as a state secret.

Leiko has had only one thing to do the entire time: think to herself, and talk to the voice that only she can hear.

<You’re the most useless god I’ve ever had the misfortune to talk to.>

<Says the ant thinking the leaf she’s carrying is worth more than the entire forest.>

<What does that even mean?>

<I am the Emperor Of The Universe. Your understanding is inconsequential to me.>

<Then tell me, Kronos: if you’re not just a voice inside my head born from the effects of isolation and you’re really as all-powerful as you say, why can you only talk to me?>

<You are mistaken. Null can also hear my voice.>

<And yet you’re bothering me.>

<Because my connection with Null is at its peak only when she’s wearing her crown, forged from the fire that Tyche inherited from me. Without the crown, her will is too strong to let me force a communication through the centuries.>

<Are you calling me weak!?>

<We both share a deep desire to rule, whereas Null resists her destiny: that makes it easier for you to hear my voice. Null’s mental projection created a bridge between us that I’ve been solidifying through your imprisonment.>

<And what’s the use in that? You said you know the future. Tell me how to escape!>

<As the God of Time, I know everything from my own life. As we speak we are separated by untold millennia: without a deeper physical connection to me, I don’t know your personal immediate future.>

<But you know Noriko’s future?>

<Yes. Through the use of the crown, she’s an extension of my own blood.>

<Let me see if I get this right. There’s no way for you to know the future of anyone except your own and Noriko’s, but you can talk to me because she created a connection.>

<To the extent that a mortal can understand, that is correct.>

For the first time since she was deposed and arrested, a smile begins to form on Leiko’s lips.

<What would it take you to form enough of a connection to another person to send a message?>

<A strong will and the spilling of blood. But I would only give the briefest of messages; not unlike the one that Null has already sent you.>

The conversation is interrupted by the familiar bright light of a teleportation, exactly in the same fashion Leiko receives her food. Except this is not the usual time for her meals, and it’s not food that has appeared inside the tray laying on the floor.

It’s an envelope. Returned to sender nine years late.

Leiko picks it up, recognizing it as the letter she sent; it also includes a hundred dollar bill.

Something else has been added to her words, something handwritten by Noriko Null.

<“I’ve never needed your money or you. The whole Galaxy is now learning what kind of monster you are. You will live the rest of your life in prison, unwanted and unloved. Think if it was a worthy investment”. The nerve of that little, ungrateful…> Leiko says to herself, crumbling the bill in her hand as the hatred seeps through her voice… and a thought occurs.

She looks at the letter. It’s the first object from the outside word that she’s been permitted to have.

Despite the years and journey throughout thousands of light years, the paper is still immaculate.

<A strong force of will has never been a problem for me.> she says, using the paper to purposefully cut some skin off a fingertip.

A couple drops of blood stain the letter and fall to the ground, but that’s enough to trigger an alarm.

Three Lar are immediately teleported inside the room: two of them are pointing stun guns at her.

<Hands where I can see them! NOW!> one of them yells.

<I hurt myself.> Leiko explains, showing her hands. Despite her best effort, it’s the smallest of cuts.

<With what? Should we sedate her?> the other guard asks.

<Human skin is very weak, I should have a look at it.> the third Lar, a female nurse, says while making a step forward with her medical kit ready. The first guard warns her:

<Orders are clear. The prisoner can’t come in contact with anyone without being sedated.>

<Can I just have something to stop the bleeding?> Leiko pleads.

<Look at her, she’s harmless. This will only take a moment.> the nurse insists, coming closer.

She takes Leiko’s hand and sprays a healing solution that would completely seal a serious wound, let alone an innocuous papercut.

To her shock, Leiko grabs the nurse’s hand to pull her closer and look her in the eye.

<Thank you. It’s so lonely in here.> she says. But despite her kind words, the nurse can feel a chill down her spine: Leiko’s wide-eyed stare feels very unnatural.

<She breached the containment! Sedate her!> the guard shouts, pulling the trigger: both women are hit by a nonlethal but painful electrical shock, and they both lose consciousness.

 

One hour later, infirmary of the Winter Castle

Luhne Soler regains consciousness on the medical bed. It takes a few seconds for the nurse to remember what happened, which is the same time it takes the doctor to get to her.

<You’re lucky you’re too good a nurse to lose. Otherwise I’d have to report you for going directly against the Queen’s orders.> he reprimands her.

<What happened to the human?> she asks.

<The prisoner is being thoroughly examined to make sure she’s not harmed.>

 

<Again? We do that every week. She can’t even eat or expel waste without been under supervision, isn’t this a bit much at this point?>

<Queen’s orders. The prisoner is to be considered extremely dangerous at all times. For all we know she injured herself on purpose just to attempt to get you as a hostage, Luhne.>

<She hurt herself with paper. And maybe she just wanted to talk to someone… do you know she’s started to talk to herself? Humans are not meant to stay isolated for too long, I think her mental state is deteriorating. Someone should check on her mental health.>

<The prisoner is not allowed to come into contact with anyone.> the doctor reiterates.

<But she’s allowed to be humiliated on a daily basis and repeatedly hit with shock blasts? Let me tell you, those things hurt. Does she really look like she’s a treat? She’s just a human!>

<I’ll admit her conditions are a bit harsh, but it’s what the Queen wants. You know you can risk your career if you insist with these questions, right? I can only protect you so much.>

<Tell me this doesn’t feel to you like we’re torturing this poor human and I’ll stop.>

The doctor has to think about it, pondering his own answer.

<It does feel a bit torture-y. Why the sudden interest?>

<Just a thought that popped into my head as she stared at me. Something telling me “this is cruel and unusual punishment”. I can’t stop thinking about it.>

<You better silence that voice. I’m not going to contradict the Queen, and if you bring this up again I will have to report you.> the doctor replies, cutting the conversation short.

As she watches him leave, she wonders if she’s the only one seeing Leiko’s situation in this light.

<This is cruel and unusual punishment> Kronos’ voice repeats inside her soul.

“People should know about this. Even the Queen can’t keep this a secret forever” Luhne Soler thinks. Not knowing that, somewhere else in time, Kronos is smiling.