THE PHOENIX AND THE FORM: Chapter One
Victor jolted awake,
his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he clawed his way out of the nightmare’s
grip. For a fleeting moment, he prayed it was just that—a nightmare. But as his
eyes adjusted to the dim light of dawn, creeping through the window, they fell
upon a framed photograph of his wife, his daughter, and himself, their smiles a
stark contrast to the surrounding darkness.
And then it hit him
like a physical blow—the crushing weight of reality. It wasn’t a nightmare, but
a memory.
The room around him
was a mess; clothes were strewn across the floor, empty bottles on the
nightstand, and papers scattered about.
Victor sat up, running
a hand through his unkempt hair. Sleep was now an elusive specter, one that
taunted him with peace, only to snatch it away with cruel reminders of what he
had lost.
He sat in silence,
realizing there was no escape. This was his reality. The darkness held no
comfort, and the light only served to illuminate the void left in the wake.
His day at CUEA
University unfolded like a monochrome film, each scene devoid of color or
meaning. The morning coffee from the stand on the school grounds tasted like
ash in his mouth, the steam rising from the cup unnoticed by his vacant stare.
Day after day, Dr.
Victor Frank had stood before his class, the once vibrant halls a gray blur in
his vision. His lectures were nothing more than a drone of voices, a cacophony
of information that fell from his lips with the sheer weight of disinterest. The
chalk in his hand moved across the blackboard in mechanical sweeps. The
students sat before him, their faces a sea of indifference mirroring his own.
Their eyes were fixed on screens or lost in daydreams; their presence
obligatory rather than eager for the knowledge they might glean.
Lunchtime came and
went, the chatter and laughter of his colleagues a distant echo. He picked at
his food mechanically, each bite a reminder of meals shared with Sophie and
Miranda, now forever lost in time.
The afternoon lectures
merged with the morning’s monotony. Words and equations, blending into an
indistinct haze. Victor’s presence was merely physical; his spirit had long
since faded. The university felt like a prison of repetition, with each lecture
another bar in the cage of his apathy.
Long shadows fell
across the campus as the sun descended. The day had passed him by—a series of
events witnessed but not lived. As his last lecture of the day concluded,
Victor gathered his belongings with mechanical efficiency. The corridors of the
university bustled with the energy of students, eager to escape the confines of
academia. Victor moved through them like a ghost, unnoticed and silent.
Stepping out into the
cool embrace of the evening, he felt a subtle quickening in his pulse—the first
stirrings of anticipation. The university grounds, with their manicured lawns
and ancient trees, faded into the background as he made his way to the parking
lot.
The unremarkable SUV,
idled patiently in the parking lot, blending into the background as it awaited
his arrival. Sliding behind the wheel of his car, Victor allowed himself a
moment to breathe. Yet even the familiar scent of leather and the soft hum of the
engine were torturous in their constancy. He sighed deeply, ignited the engine,
and pulled out of the university parking lot. As he navigated through the
city’s veins—each traffic light and turn, brought him closer to his home.
The golden hues of
sunset painted the streets, and as each mile passed, the weight of the day
lifted slightly, replaced by an eagerness that had become both his anchor and
his sail.
By the time he reached
his neighborhood, twilight had settled like a soft blanket over the houses.
Victor’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, not out of fear or anxiety, but
out of a burgeoning excitement for what awaited him at home—the project.
Amidst the gray-scale
of his existence, this was the singular beacon beckoning him home each day. It
was the only thing that pierced through the numbness, the only thing that
painted his world with a semblance of vibrancy. He pulled into his driveway and
killed the engine.
The modest bungalow
stood before him, the place he had called home for all these years. He got out
of his car, and with a determined stride, got to his front porch, his steps
hurried.
He turned the key in
the lock and stepped into the quiet of his house. Stepping through the front
door, the disarray was immediately apparent. Bills and letters formed a
disorganized heap on the floor, the kitchen sink was full of unwashed dishes,
and cobwebs stretched from corner to corner, adorning shelves and cabinets with
delicate, neglected threads.
The walls were lined
with family photographs, images of happier days sharing space with framed
accolades—degrees, a master’s, a doctorate—each one a relic of ambition and
success, that felt like it belonged to someone else.
He made his way to the
back room, but stopped with his hand on the knob of the door. Taking a deep
breath, he pushed the door. It swung open, creaking loudly as it did so. His
breath caught in his throat as he stood there, staring.
The humanoid robot lay
at the center of the room, upon a Trendelenburg bed. It was a marvel of
engineering, even by his estimates. Its sleek limbs and intricate circuitry had
been crafted with precision. The placement of each servo and each sensor had been
meticulous, blurring the line between machine and life. The synthetic skin was
lifelike, with a warmth and texture that nearly replicated that of a human
being. His magnum opus, not just a body; but the last glimmer of hope in his
world of grief. The only thing that kept him tethered to this life—and it bore
the form, of his daughter.
Her features were
recreated with accuracy. The contours of its face, the curve of its lips—all
meticulously crafted to mirror her image. The culmination of nine months of
tireless efforts. Pouring all his grief and longing into its creation, blurring
the boundaries between memory and reality.
The robot’s eyes
housed optical sensors that mimicked the depth and curiosity of human eyes. The
eyes were a perfect match to her own. They remained dark and unblinking, yet
seeming to hold a depth both haunting and profound, a window to a soul that
wasn’t there.
It was uncanny, almost
too perfect, leaving an eerie silence hanging in the air.
He looked away,
averting his gaze from the form, shifting his attention to the workbench at the
opposite end of the room.
There, resting on a
stand, was a solid bronze rod about ten inches long, thirty millimeters thick
at its handle, slimming down to a rounded tip. The mysterious woman he had
encountered on the dubious internet forum, Blue was her name, had referred to
it as a “wand”, attributing its origin to an ancient alien race whose existence
on Earth had faded into obscurity.
Initially skeptical,
Victor’s analysis had slowly turned doubt into awe. The rod’s properties were
unlike anything he had encountered; its design and internal structure,
reminiscent of sophisticated micro-architecture. Under the microscope, it
revealed a complexity that nearly surpassed earthly engineering—a lattice of
circuits and conduits, a marvel of miniaturization and complexity, akin to the
most advanced Central Processing Units.
The bronze rod had
already informed much of his work on the humanoid form. But it wasn’t just the
design that puzzled him; the alloy of metals from which the rod was crafted
suggested a modern creation, possibly even with contemporary techniques.
Yet the fellas in
radiocarbon dating at the university had presented him with a baffling
contradiction. Their analysis indicated that the rod was not a product of
recent ingenuity, but an artifact thousands of years old.
The wand was an
enigma. It challenged everything Victor thought he knew. At the very least, it
convinced him what Blue had been saying was plausible, despite his initial
reservations about her. She had spoken with conviction about a power source,
one used by the alien beings who supposedly crafted the wand, which could have
the capacity to animate the form.
For a fleeting moment,
Victor allowed himself to be swept up in the realm of possibility. The thought
that this alien technology could be the key to powering his creation was
tantalizing. Perhaps it could even be the key to reuniting with his daughter. Could
it happen? Could he truly bridge the gap between life and death, reuniting with
his daughter?
At that moment, the
computer chimed to life. It was a new email from Blue, asking about progress on
the wand.
Subject: Progress Update on the Wand
From: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com To: Dr.
Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 08:15:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Victor,
I hope this message
finds you well. I’ve been eagerly awaiting an update on your progress. Please
share your latest findings with me, doctor. Your insight into this artifact is
invaluable, and together, I believe we can unlock its secrets.
Warm regards,
Blue
Subject: Progress Update on the Wand
From: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu To:
Blue blue@mysterydomain.com
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 08:45:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Blue,
The wand has indeed
proven to be a source of fascination. It has served as compelling evidence
of the advanced technology you’ve described. Its micro-architecture has
inspired a series of breakthroughs in my work. The precision of its circuitry promises future developments in energy conductivity that I had previously thought impossible.
The alloy of the metal
exhibits incredible properties. It possesses a resilience that withstands
extreme conditions without degradation, which, when coupled with its conductive capabilities has far exceeded my initial assumptions.
Your mention of a
power source has piqued my curiosity immensely. If this power source exists and
can energize such a system, and if we can indeed harness this energy, as you
have suggested, we may well be on the brink of a discovery that could redefine the
boundaries of science and life itself.
Your knowledge in this
area is crucial to me and I am eager to learn more about this power source and
explore its potential applications. When you can, please provide more details
about this power source. Any information could prove critical to our success.
Warm regards,
Dr. Victor Frank
Subject: The Phoenix - A Meeting Proposal
From: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com To: Dr.
Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 09:30:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Victor,
Yes, as we have
discussed previously, the power source you are curious about was known by
ancient humans as the “Phoenix”. The information I have is sensitive and far
too critical to risk communication over digital channels.
I propose we meet in
person to discuss the full extent of the power source and its capabilities.
There is much to share, and I believe an in-person conversation will allow us
to communicate more freely and securely.
I am willing to take a
flight to Mombasa, Kenya, to see you where we can meet and exchange our
knowledge without the constraints of distance and technology. Please let me
know if this arrangement suits you, and we can coordinate the details of our
rendezvous.
Looking forward to
your reply.
Warm regards,
Blue
Subject: The Phoenix - A Meeting Proposal
From: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu To:
Blue blue@mysterydomain.com
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 10:00:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Blue,
Your proposal for an
in-person meeting is well-received. I understand the need for discretion and
agree that the sensitive nature of the “Phoenix” warrants a secure exchange.
Mombasa will be an
ideal location for our discussion. I am prepared to make the arrangements to
meet you there. Please inform me of your travel plans and preferred meeting
details so that I can ensure our rendezvous goes smoothly.
I look forward to our
collaboration and the enlightenment it will bring.
Warm regards,
Dr. Victor Frank
Subject: Finalizing Our Mombasa Meeting
From: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com To: Dr.
Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 10:30:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Victor,
Thank you for your
prompt response. I am pleased to hear that you are amenable to the meeting.
Let us finalize the
details. I propose we meet on:
Date: Friday, 28th January 2044 Time: 1:00 PM
EAT Location: Serenity Beach Resort, Mombasa - Private Cabana #7.
The resort offers a tranquil and private setting that I believe will be conducive to our discussion on the “Phoenix.” Please confirm if this is agreeable to you.
Warm regards,
Blue
Subject: Finalizing Our Mombasa Meeting
From: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu To:
Blue blue@mysterydomain.com
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 11:00:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Blue,
The arrangements at
Serenity Beach Resort are perfect. I confirm our meeting on Friday, 28th
January 2044, at 1:00 PM EAT, Private Cabana #7.
I appreciate the
measures you are taking for our security and privacy. This meeting promises to
be a significant step forward in our project.
I look forward to our
discussion and the insights it will yield.
Warm regards,
Dr. Victor Frank
Victor found himself
standing in a desert amidst a sea of golden sand, the grains shimmering like
tiny suns under an azure sky. The air was thick with the scent of myrrh and
incense, a fragrance that seemed to whisper secrets of a time long forgotten.
Before him rose a colossal bird, its feathers an iridescent tapestry of flames,
dancing between hues of crimson and gold. The Phoenix.
Its eyes, twin orbs of
molten gold, held him in a gaze that pierced through the veils of reality,
reaching into the depths of his soul. The bird’s cry resonated in the air. It
spread its majestic wings, enveloping the horizon in its embrace.
The world around
Victor began to blur, the sands swirling upward. He reached out, fingers
grazing its crimson feathers, feeling its warmth. The Phoenix began to beat its
wings, each movement sending waves of heat across the expanse. The air itself
seemed to ignite; the sky was painted with streaks of fire that mirrored the
bird’s plumage. Flames leaped and twirled around the Phoenix, a living inferno
whirling upwards. The flames reached out to Victor, threatening to consume him.
Victor jolted awake,
his hand still outstretched in the darkness of his room, the sensation of the
Phoenix’s heat still tingling on his skin.
He blinked the vision
away, his eyes adjusting to the serene hues of dawn filtering through the sheer
curtains of the resort room. The space was a blend of modern luxury and
tropical charm, with walls adorned in soft cream tones, complementing the rich
mahogany furniture.
A gentle breeze
whispered through the open balcony door, carrying with it the faint sound of
waves caressing the shore. He lay for a moment on the plush king-sized bed, its
crisp white linens now tousled from sleep. The room was spacious, housing a
cozy sitting area with a plush sofa facing a stone fireplace; above which—hung
a painting of a serene seascape. The morning air cool and fresh.
With a deep breath,
Victor pushed himself up, his muscles protesting the sudden movement after a
night of restless dreams. He padded across the soft carpeted floor, past the
sleek glass-topped table littered with notes and sketches of his project, and
entered the bathroom.
The bathroom was an
oasis of calm, featuring a large walk-in shower enclosed by frosted glass that
caught the morning light in a dance of colors. Victor turned on the faucet,
letting the water heat up as he shed his clothes.
As the warm water
cascaded over him, his mind churned with a maelstrom of emotions. Anticipation
coursed through his veins, mingled with a thread of anxiety that tightened
around his heart.
Today’s meeting with
Blue was not just another academic exchange; the possibility that it could lead
him to the Phoenix, to what might help bridge the gap between life and death,
both exhilarated and terrified him.
His hands moved
mechanically as he lathered soap over his skin, but his thoughts were far from
the routine of his morning ablutions. He knew that today could change
everything.
Amidst the steam and
the steady rhythm of falling water, a shadow of doubt crept into his resolve.
This project had become his obsession, but what if it led to nothing? What if
the Phoenix was merely just a myth, an unattainable dream that he was chasing?
Was he chasing ghosts? Allowing grief to cloud his judgment? The thought was a
jagged pill to swallow, leaving a bitter taste of uncertainty.
He paused, his hand
resting against the cool tile as the water continued its descent. The image of
his daughter’s smile flashed before his eyes, a bittersweet reminder of all
that he had lost and all that he yearned to recover. The pain was a constant companion,
one that he had hoped to silence with his work.
As quickly as the
doubt arose, it was quashed by the unwavering fire within him. He could
not—would not, give up on this hope of a chance to have his daughter back. With
a renewed sense of purpose, Victor rinsed away the suds, stepping out of the
shower with a steely determination etched upon his features.
He arrived at the
designated meeting spot, the beachfront cabana. The ocean’s murmur provided a
soothing backdrop to the already serene ambiance of the place. The midday sun
cast a golden glow over the scene, painting everything in hues of warmth and
promise.
The aroma of pilau,
rich with spices and savory notes, filled the air. He sat at a table; his gaze
lost in the rhythmic dance of the ocean waves. He had arrived early, the weight
of the impending meeting settling heavily upon his shoulders. He heard the soft
sound of footsteps approaching and looked up to find a woman standing in front
of him.
Dr. Frank’s pulse
quickened as he took in her appearance. Her hair cascaded in a sleek,
shoulder-length bob—a vivid hue of blue framing her face, each strand mirroring
the vibrancy of the ocean. And when she moved, the waves danced.
She stood with hands
at her sides, as if poised for action.
Their eyes met, a
sharp intelligence shining within them that belied her casual demeanor. Her
eyes, a shade darker than her hair, were like pools of the deepest blue. As
Victor met her gaze, he felt as though she was peering into the very core of
his being, seeing past the façade of the scholar and into the raw edges of his
soul.
There was a weight to
her stare, a sense of profound understanding that both unnerved and intrigued
him. It was as if she had witnessed the turning of the world, the rise and fall
of empires, and the silent sorrows of countless souls. Her name, suited her.
“Professor Victor?”
she asked as she extended her hand with a nod of acknowledgment, nudging him
from his stupor. Victor abruptly rose to his feet. “Ms. Blue,” he replied,
extending his hand in greeting. She took his hand, her grip firm, and then
gracefully took the seat across from him.
“I trust you had a
restful night?” she said, her voice smooth and confident as they sat down.
“As restful as can be
had,” he replied, offering a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
The waiter approached
their table, a polite smile gracing his features as he stood ready with his
notepad.
“Good afternoon, may I
take your orders?” he politely asked.
Familiar with the
local cuisine, Victor took the lead.
“I’ll have the Pilau,”
he said confidently.
Blue glanced at the
menu before setting it down. A look of adventurous curiosity crossing her
features. “I’ll have the same,” she decided, eager to experience the
traditional dish that Victor had endorsed.
With their orders
placed, the waiter retreated, leaving them in a bubble of privacy amidst the
restaurant’s gentle hum of activity.
As they waited for
their meal, Dr. Frank observed Blue more closely. She was wearing a patterned
navy-blue chiffon blouse that clung to her frame—the soft rustle of the blouse
echoing the whisper of distant waves. She had paired it with structured charcoal
gray wool trousers, impeccably tailored, and black closed-toe shoes, their
heels modest yet sturdy. Minimalistic jewelry adorned her wrists and ears—a
silver bracelet that caught the sunlight and small stud earrings in the shape
of a crescent moon. A lightweight cover-up was ready to shield her from the
Mombasa heat. The dark hues accentuating her confident demeanor.
She was
unconventional, her bright blue hair and enigmatic presence not fitting the
image he had imagined of her.
She caught him looking
at her and asked, “What?”
Startled, he
confessed, “Oh… my bad. It’s just that… you’re not what I expected.”
“And what did you
expect, doctor?” she queried.
“I suppose I expected
a scientist.” He replied.
Blue smiled, a glint
of amusement in her eyes. “Scientists come in all shapes and sizes, Professor,”
she replied. “We’re not all lab coats and glasses.”
A silence settled over
the table, but the Dr. continued to observe her. She was a foreigner in these
parts, yet there was an ease about her that suggested she was no stranger to
adapting to new environments.
She sipped some water
that she had brought with her as she looked at him. “It’s a beautiful day,
isn’t it?” she remarked casually, looking towards the horizon where the sea met
the sky in a perfect line.
Victor followed her
gaze, nodding in agreement. “It is. The ocean has a way of making one’s
problems seem insignificant in comparison to its vastness.”
She smiled,
appreciating his poetic observation.
“Yet, here we are,
pursuing matters that feel anything but insignificant,” He continued.
He returned her smile
with one of his own.
“True. But sometimes,
it’s the small pieces that complete the larger puzzle.”
Victor caught the hint
of metaphor in her words and decided to play along. “Speaking of puzzles, I’ve
been working on one myself,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “It involves
an ancient legend—perhaps you’ve heard of it? The Phoenix?”
“I may have come
across it in my travels,” she replied.
He nodded,
“Fascinating story. I’ve always wondered if there was any truth to it.” She
watched him silently, wondering where he was going with this.
“The Phoenix,” Victor
pressed on, “is said to be more than just a myth. Some believe it’s a source of
immense power.”
Blue’s gaze sharpened.
“And what do you believe, Professor?”
“I believe that if
such a thing exists, it’s worth pursuing.”
There was a pause.
Blue leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “And if I were to say
that I might know something about it?”
Victor’s heart raced.
This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. But before he could respond,
the waiter arrived with their pilau, the clatter of plates breaking the
tension.
“Your meals, sir,
madam,” the waiter announced cheerfully, oblivious to the conversation he had
interrupted.
“Asante,” Victor said.
“Karibuni!” The waiter
said, bowing his head slightly before turning and departing.
As the aroma of the
spiced rice filled their senses, Victor and Blue exchanged a look—a silent
agreement that their conversation was far from over.
The Pilau before them
was a feast, but it was clear that their appetites were secondary to the
purpose that had brought them together.
Victor leaned forward,
his gaze intense on Blue. “If we are to find the Phoenix, how do we begin?” he
asked.
Blue’s expression was
serious, her eyes reflecting a depth of knowledge. “We’ll need an artifact,”
she said. “A guide to lead us to our destination.”
He caught the
implication in her words. “You don’t know where the Phoenix is?” he observed,
almost as an accusation as it was a statement of fact.
She met his gaze
squarely. “No, I don’t,” she admitted. “But the object I speak of can get us
there.”
“A map?”
“Of sorts,” Blue
replied cryptically. “You’ll see.”
“Okay, and how do we
get a hold of this… guide?” he asked.
In response, Blue
reached into her bag and pulled out a slim file, its contents obscured by the
nondescript cover. She slid it across the table towards him with a deliberate
motion.
Victor took the file
and opened it, his eyes scanning the documents inside. Maps, notes,
photographs.
As he looked up from
the file, he saw Blue watching him, her expression an enigmatic blend of
confidence and anticipation. It was clear she had set many things in motion,
and he sensed he was about to become an integral part of her plans.
Victor closed the file
and put it down on the table. He sat back in his chair and let out a long
breath.
“Wales!?” he asked,
his voice tinged with disbelief.
“Yes,” Blue confirmed,
her tone steady. “The artifact is in the possession of a wealthy tycoon. He’s
known for his collection of rare and supposedly mythical items. The guide we
need is just one of his many treasures.”
Victor frowned, the
reality of their situation settling in. After a silence, he said, “I’ve poured
everything into my project financially. I’m stretched thin. A trip to Wales is
beyond my means.”
“You don’t have to
worry about that. Your transport arrangements will be taken care of.”
He gave her a
quizzical look and continued, a note of frustration in his voice, “Even despite
that, I can’t afford to purchase this artifact, let alone begin to understand
how I’m supposed to convince such a man to part with a prized possession.”
Blue’s expression
softened slightly, but her eyes remained resolute. “Who said anything about
purchasing?” she asked gently.
The implication hit
Victor like a wave. She was suggesting they steal it.
“What?” he asked. Her
gaze remained steady on his. “I can’t,” he protested, shaking his head. “I’m a
scientist, not a thief.”
“Victor,” she began again, her voice soft yet filled with a fervent passion, “ This artifact…it could be the key to everything you’ve been striving for. You’ve dedicated your life to science, this could redefine the boundaries of science and life itself…this could change the world.”
Victor felt the weight
of her words, the temptation they carried. She was offering him a chance to
bring to fruition his work. It was wrong, it was dangerous—but it was also the
closest he’d come to hope in a long time.
“But the means,” he
countered, “to deceive, to steal—it goes against everything I stand for.”
Blue nodded,
acknowledging his concern. “I understand your hesitation,” she said. “But
consider this: throughout history, how many discoveries have been made in the
shadows, away from prying eyes? Sometimes the greatest creations and inventions
are made in secret, away from those who would suppress or misuse them.”
Blue saw the
hesitation in Victor’s eyes and knew she needed to press further. She leaned
closer, her eyes locked on his. “You have the chance to be part of something
extraordinary.”
“Victor,” she said,
her voice a blend of empathy and determination, “sometimes, we must venture
into the shadows to bring light back into our lives.”
Victor listened to
Blue’s impassioned plea, each word tugging at the frayed edges of his resolve.
But as he sat there, the weight of her arguments pressing upon him, clarity
emerged from within the fog of his grief.
He stood up abruptly,
pushing his chair back with a scrape that cut through the tension between them.
“No,” he said firmly, his voice carrying a finality that surprised even him, “I
didn’t sign up for this.”
Blue looked up at him,
her expression a mix of desperation and determination. “Victor, please…”
“I’m sorry,” Victor
said, softer now, “I can’t be part of this.”
As Victor walked away,
his mind was a tumult of conflicting emotions. There was an undeniable pull
towards Blue and her…and her what…he didn’t even know what. But there was
something about her that didn’t quite fit. Her knowledge was extensive, yes,
but it was her approach that left him questioning. Was she truly who she
claimed to be? Who was she even really?
The more he thought
about it, the more his suspicion only deepened.
There was a tempest
brewing within him, a clash of hope and skepticism that threatened to tear him
asunder. On one hand, there was the tantalizing possibility that Blue’s words
could lead him to the Phoenix. To having what he wanted. The mere thought sent
a surge of adrenaline through his veins, igniting a spark of excitement that he
had not felt in ages.
Yet, on the other
hand, his academic mind waged war against the ethics of it. Theft. Robbery.
Deceit. And who knows what else? What had he gotten himself into?
The internal struggle
was palpable, etching lines of conflict across his brow as he weighed Blue’s
words against the harsh light of reality. Hope beckoned him with its siren
call, offering a balm to the ache that had nestled in his heart since Sophie’s
passing. But skepticism held him back, a tether to the rational world he knew
so well.
Victor realized that
this moment was a crossroads, one that could define the rest of his life. To
follow Blue’s lead was to step into the unknown, to risk everything on the
chance of a miracle. It was a gamble, but he wondered if perhaps some gambles
were worth taking.
No, this wasn’t what
he had signed up for. He was going to pack his bags and head back to Nairobi.
He found his suitcase
and packed up his things, hurriedly folding his clothes and placing them in the
case. Zipping up his suitcase, he pocketed his ID, his passport, and his slim
profile wallet, carrying his cards and a few paper notes. Suitcase in hand,
Victor left the room, closing the door behind him. He turned the key and
pocketed it.
A soft breeze greeted
him, carrying faint notes of chlorine from the nearby pool. Victor’s footsteps
crunched lightly on the gravel pathway, his suitcase rolling silently beside
him. He passed by the cabana where guests continued to enjoy their meals, laughter
mingling with the aroma of freshly prepared pilau. He looked to where he and
Blue had sat, but she wasn’t there.
Ahead, the main
entrance awaited, framed by towering columns and adorned with intricate
carvings. He paused briefly to take in the sight, savoring the last moments of
peace before venturing back into the world beyond the resort’s embrace.
With a last glance
over his shoulder, casting one last look at the resort, he steeled himself,
and, adjusting his grip on his suitcase, he stepped through the archway.
After checking out,
the resort staff bid him farewell with warm smiles and well-wishes.
He made his way to the
airport, the tropical heat clinging to him like a last embrace from Mombasa
City. At Moi International Airport, he navigated through the check-in process.
The airport was abuzz with travelers, but Victor moved through them like a ghost,
his thoughts already miles away. As he sat in the airport, the boarding call
for his flight to Nairobi echoed through the terminal.
Victor settled into
his seat and the plane took off for the city. The flight itself was uneventful,
a quick hop that bridged the gap between Kenya’s coast and its bustling
capital. As the plane ascended, Victor watched Mombasa shrink away beneath him,
daydreams of what-ifs growing smaller with each passing second. He thought of
the Phoenix, of the artifact’s promise, of the strange woman he had just had a
meal with only hours ago. He thought of what was waiting for him back home;
thought of Sophie and with the thought, he felt a pang of loss.
From his window seat,
Victor watched as Mombasa’s palm trees gave way to Nairobi’s urban sprawl. Upon
landing at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, he collected his luggage and
stepped out into the familiar chaos of Nairobi. Landing in Nairobi brought a
sense of apathy with it, the thought of returning to the same old life that
felt utterly empty without them.
Victor hailed an Uber
for the final leg of his journey. He requested they bypass the bustling city
and head straight to his house, a place that once echoed with laughter but now
stood as a solemn monument to his loss.
As he arrived at his
home, the sight of the familiar walls was both comforting and constricting. He
unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house was just as he had left it. A
chaotic array of papers, tools, and memories scattered about—a testament to the
frenzied work that had consumed him since the accident. The silence around him
was deafening, filled with the echoes of laughter and life that once were. His
home, once a sanctuary of warmth and love, now stood as a mausoleum to his
sorrows.
He walked through the
disarray with a heavy heart, each step taking him closer to the back room where
his greatest creation and deepest sorrow lived. Pushing open the door, Victor
was greeted by the sight of the form—Sophie’s form—still and silent in the
center of the room. The face, a perfect replica of his daughter’s, looked back
at him with unseeing eyes.
He approached the it
hesitantly; reaching out and tracing the contours of her face with a trembling
hand. The synthetic skin was cool to the touch, yet so lifelike that for a
moment, he could almost believe she would wake up.
He settled into the
chair by the workbench facing the form. He crossed his arms, and let his gaze
linger on the creation before him, as his thumb absentmindedly twisted his
wedding ring around his finger.
Laughter rang through
the air like music. Sophie, with her boundless energy, was chasing butterflies.
Miranda watched her with a tender smile, then turned to Victor, her eyes a rich
dark brown.
“Do you ever wonder
what she’ll become?” Miranda asked, her voice soft with wonder.
Victor looked at
Sophie, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and feeling a swell of pride, said,
“Whatever she wants to be, she’ll have the world at her feet.”
Miranda nodded, her
hand finding his. “She has your determination,” she said. “And your heart.”
Sophie ran back to
them then, with her hands clasped together. “Look, Daddy! I got it! I got it!”
she exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight.
Victor kneeled beside
her. “Oh, let me see.” “No Daddy, it’ll fly away.” She said, pulling her hands
away with a frown of disbelief on her face. Victor chuckled, “Oh it’s a peek,
c’mon, let daddy see.” “Okay.” She said and opened her hand a tiny bit, “Wow,
she’s so pretty!” Victor intoned, “Just…like…you!” He said as he tickled her.
“Daddy! Daddy! Stop, it’ll fly away!” She said, giggling away. “Now, are you
gonna be a good girl and set it free?” Victor asked, “But daddy I don’t wanna,
it’s my butterfly.” She protested. Victor looked up at Miranda with a pleading
look, who squatted beside him, poking Sophie as she said, “Hey, you wanna know
how you know something is yours?” Sophie nodded her head vigorously. “You have
to let it go.”
Then CRASH…then
WATER…then DARKNESS. “Dad, I’m scared!” Then a scream rang out.
Victor jolted,
returning to the present, his heart racing. How long had he been sitting here?
He wondered. His eyes focused on the robot body and he sat there staring at it,
wondering why he had chosen this path.
The computer chimed.
It was an email from Blue. He hesitated for a moment before opening the email,
a sense of foreboding settling over him.
The message from Blue
read:
Subject: A Truth
Unveiled
From: Blue
blue@mysterydomain.com To: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu
Date: Sun, 31 Jan 2044
08:15:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Victor,
I trust this email
finds you in good health and spirits. I know our last encounter might have left
an unpleasant taste in your mouth. Your integrity is admirable. However, I
believe some matters demand necessary sacrifice.
Consider one final
meeting. Let us convene at the Nairobi National Museum tomorrow at midday.
Awaiting your
response,
Blue
Victor leaned back in
his chair. He looked at the form. He knew there was no going back to the life
that he had. Even if he were to try, then what!? All he knew was that at that
moment in time, he was completely, and utterly, alone.
Subject: No More
Secrets
From: Dr. Victor Frank
vfrank@cuea.edu To: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com
Date: Sun, 31 Jan 2044
08:45:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Blue,
Your message has been
received. While I remain skeptical of your clandestine suggestion, I feel
compelled to hear you out.
I will attend the
meeting at the Nairobi National Museum café tomorrow at noon. However,
understand that scientific integrity and the moral principles that govern my
actions guide my pursuit.
And Ms. Blue, I want
full transparency from you.
Regards,
Victor
After emailing Blue,
Victor leaned back in his chair, the weight of the day’s events finally
catching up with him. His body felt heavy with exhaustion, each thought and
movement sluggish and labored. He stood up from his desk, his eyes barely able
to stay open. As he left the room, he stood at the threshold of the door, and
turning back to face the form, he whispered, “I’ll fix this.” And with that
closed the door and made his way to the bedroom.
He collapsed onto the
bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. His mind, still teeming
with thoughts of the Phoenix and Blue’s cryptic message, gradually quieted as
fatigue overtook him. His breathing slowed, and within minutes, he was asleep.
And he slept like he hadn’t slept, in months.
Victor slipped behind
the wheel of his car, the familiar scent of leather and a hint of engine oil
greeting him. He started the engine, the low purr offering a momentary comfort
amidst his swirling thoughts.
The morning sun cast a
golden hue over Nairobi as Victor set out for the museum. The city was already
buzzing with activity; its streets thrummed with the rhythm of daily life as
people bustled about, starting their day.
As he drove, the
cityscape unfolded before him—a mosaic of modern skyscrapers and timeless
nature. The Mugumo and Mkungu trees were in full bloom, their vibrant colors a
stark contrast against the concrete and glass.
Victor’s route took
him past landmarks that held memories of days spent with Miranda and Sophie. He
drove by the university where he had taught countless students the wonders of
science. Later on, he passed by Uhuru Park, where they had picnicked under the
shade of mighty fig trees and where he had proposed to Miranda.
The traffic was light,
and he made good time, but his mind was elsewhere. He rehearsed potential
conversations with Blue, each scenario playing out differently in his head.
Despite his resolve to remain detached, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of
hope that Blue’s evidence might lead to a breakthrough.
As he neared the
museum, Victor’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. The familiar façade of
the building came into view, its walls holding centuries of history and
knowledge. He parked his car and sat there for a second, steeling himself for
what was to come. This meeting could change everything or nothing at all.
Either way, he was ready to face it head-on.
He stepped out of his
car, the museum’s grandeur looming before him. He paused for a moment, taking
in the sight of the historic structure, its walls a reminder of all he had
lived through. It was a windy day, but sunny, with clouds overhead. He took a deep
breath, and strangely had the feeling as if he could almost breathe again.
He locked his car and
began his walk to the café, his footsteps echoing on the cobblestone path. The
museum gardens were lush and well-tended, a serene oasis amidst the city’s
hustle. Sculptures and artifacts dotted the landscape.
With each step towards
the café, he felt a mix of determination and caution. As he approached, he saw
Blue already seated at a table outside, her posture relaxed yet alert. She wore
an azure-blue dress, its subtle floral pattern mirroring the museum’s serene
ambiance. The fabric flowed gracefully. Her brown pumps peeked out from beneath
the hem, practical yet elegant. A black neckband adorned her neck, the silver
crescent moon catching the light as she sipped her coffee.
Victor approached, and
their eyes met. For a moment, there was a silent acknowledgment of the gravity
of their meeting. The Dr. approached with measured steps, his mind racing with
questions yet to be asked.
“Victor,” Blue greeted
him with a nod as he arrived at the table.
“Blue,” he replied,
his voice steady despite the uncertainty churning inside him.
“Thanks for giving me
a second chance, Victor.”
Victor shrugged,
blushing a little. He took a seat opposite her, the wrought-iron chair cool
against his skin. The café was quiet this time of day, with only a few other
patrons scattered about, lost in their own worlds.
Victor and Blue sat in
silence for a moment, each assessing the other. The air was thick with
anticipation; words hung unspoken between them like threads waiting to be woven
into conversation.
“It’s a beautiful
place.” She said, breaking the silence.
“Hmm?” Victor grunted.
“The museum.” She
said.
“Oh yes,” he rejoined.
“Quite.”
“Did you ever come
here with your parents when you were young?” she ventured.
“No, I’m an orphan,
but I used to bring myself here when I was young—and had made some money
hauling luggage for people. That was back when I used to live on the streets.”
She raised an eyebrow
in shock, but Victor hurriedly continued.
“You said you have
evidence,” he began, his gaze unwavering. “I’m here to see it.”
Blue gazed at him,
taken slightly aback by the frustration in his voice. “You say you’re a
scientist,” he continued, his tone measured. “Yet you speak of legends and
artifacts.”
“I thought you said
it’s worth pursuing.” She fired back.
“And I stand by that,
it’s just… it’s rare that science and myth intersect so… conveniently,” he
explained.
Blue met his gaze,
unflinching. “I understand your doubt,” she said calmly. “But the world is full
of wonders that science has yet to explain. I’ve dedicated my life to exploring
those fringes where the known meets the unknown.”
She reached into her
bag and pulled out a small notebook, worn at the edges but filled with
meticulous notes and diagrams. “Here,” she offered, passing it to him. “Look
for yourself.”
Victor flipped through
the pages, his eyes scanning the detailed observations and complex calculations
that filled them. Blue was no amateur; the depth of her knowledge was apparent
in every carefully penned line.
“Impressive,” he
admitted, handing back the notebook. “But knowledge alone doesn’t prove one’s
intentions.”
Blue nodded, accepting
the notebook. “True,” she conceded. “But perhaps over time, I can earn your
trust.”
Victor’s eyes
narrowed, searching hers for any hint of deceit. “Even if what you say is true,
if we get caught, it’s not just a simple matter of returning what we’ve taken.
We’d be engaging in criminal activities on foreign soil. The legal
ramifications alone would be severe. We could face extradition, trial, and
possible incarceration. And the damage to our reputations and careers. The
academic community would never trust us again.”
Blue met his gaze, her
eyes steady. “I’m aware of the risks, Victor. But consider what we stand to
gain—the Phoenix could revolutionize our understanding of energy and the
universe itself. We have to weigh that against the risks. And let’s not forget
what that could mean for you, for your project.”
There was a silence.
“And how much do you
know about that?” Victor asked, suspicion lacing his words.
“Just what you’ve told
me.” She said, her eyes giving nothing away.
“Hmm, I don’t believe
you.” Victor whispered.
“Okay. I know what it
is Victor. And what it means to you.” She confessed.
“And how do you know
that?”
She kept silent. ’
“Have you been spying
on me?”
“Victor. I’m a very
cautious person. I like to know who I’m working with, so I admit I have carried
out my investigations on you and yes, I know more about your project than I
initially let on.” She confessed.
Victor was stunned,
but more than that, he was angry. Blue, seeing the anger in his eyes, said,
“Look, I’m not judging you Victor. At this point in time, our interests
intersect. You help me get to the Phoenix and I’ll help you get your daughter
back. You have my word.”
At that point, the
waiter came to the table. They ordered coffees and sat in silence; Victor’s
mind was preoccupied even as Blue watched him like a hawk. The waiter returned
with the coffee and some mandazis.
As the minutes ticked
away, the silence became deafening.
“You haven’t touched
your coffee,” she said finally. His cup was full and cold, and hers was
drained. Still, he said nothing. The waiter returned with the bill. Victor
pulled out his wallet and paid. “Will there be anything else?” asked the
waiter. “No thank you,” was the response from Blue, and Victor waved him away.
The silence continued.
Blue gazed at him, his expression unreadable.
“Shall we walk?” she
offered.
They made their way
into the museum, Victor paying the charge at the desk, Blue letting him. “Quite
the gentleman,” she remarked. They declined the tour guide; they wanted
privacy.
They walked around,
admiring the artifacts and artworks on display. It was a weekday and no school
tour was on, so they were mostly alone. They kept silent, for a while; but
finally, Victor spoke up.
“I’ve never done this
before.” He admitted, “But something tells me that’s not the case with you.”
Blue leaned in, her
voice a confident whisper. “I’ve orchestrated operations of this nature before.
I have contacts and contingencies in place. Our approach will be meticulous and
calculated; we won’t act rashly.”
“I’ve carried out
extensive reconnaissance and meticulously detailed every aspect of the
plan—escape routes, legal safeguards, and even diplomatic contacts who owe me
favors. We’re not going into this blindly.”
“And if we’re still
caught?” he asked.
Blue’s eyes were
resolute. “Then we enact our contingency plans. I’ve ensured that there are
layers of plausible deniability built into our alibis. And should we need it, I
have a legal team on standby, ready to defend us with the full force of their
expertise.”
Victor nodded slowly,
the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. Blue’s assurances provided a
semblance of security, though he knew the risks could never be entirely
mitigated.
“What about unexpected
complications?” he asked.
“Foremost, we stay
calm. Panic is our greatest enemy in situations that deviate from the plan,”
she began.
“We’ll have a
communication channel open at all times, a secure line directly to one another.
In case of an issue, report it immediately, and we will adapt on the fly.”
Victor listened
intently, nodding along. “And if we’re separated or communication is
compromised?”
“In that case,” Blue
continued, “we each have a copy of the operation’s blueprint, complete with
alternate routes and rendezvous points. We’ll have to study them extensively
beforehand so that we know what to do in case of anything. We also have
non-verbal signals established for quick, silent coordination. If you’re
compromised, try to destroy any devices integral to the operation. There’s no
point in giving the prosecution more evidence to go on.”
She paused, ensuring
Victor was absorbing the information. “Lastly, we have a safe house set up
close to the operation site. If things go south, we regroup there and reassess
our next move. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she said.
Inside, Victor was a
tempest of conflicting emotions. Blue’s assurances gave a sense of the
possibility of success. Yet, the risks loomed large, casting long shadows over
his thoughts.
He felt the weight of
responsibility pressing down on him, the knowledge that every decision could
have far-reaching consequences. The potential of what he could gain by finding
the Phoenix was tantalizing, but so too was the fear of failure and its aftermath.
Victor’s mind churned
with scenarios, each one playing out like a different act in a drama. He
considered Blue’s experience and the meticulousness of her planning, which
offered a sense of security. But he also couldn’t ignore the small voice of
caution whispering reminders of what could go wrong.
He imagined what
Miranda would say if she were here now. She had always been his sounding board,
offering perspective when he was too close to a problem. He could almost hear
her gentle voice, encouraging him to take risks for the right reasons.
He sat on a bench.
Blue followed suit. As they sat there in silence, Victor reminisced. He
recalled Sophie’s bright eyes, filled with curiosity and wonder, and her smile.
He recalled that last day they had together; calling the school to lie about
why she couldn’t go that day. She was a senior, and had to catch up with her
math, but he wanted to spend time with her, and share his special day with her.
As he sat there,
Victor realized that this was more than just a professional gamble; it was a
personal crossroads. The choice to proceed would mark a definitive step away
from his past—a past marred by loss and grief—and towards an uncertain future.
With each breath, he
sought to steady his racing heart, to find a balance between hope and realism.
“Bitter.” He said.
“What?” she asked.
Victor looked across
at Blue with newfound determination. “Let’s do this,” he said, his voice
carrying the weight of his decision. She reached out and placed her hand on
his. “We’ll face whatever comes together Victor.” She said. “I promise.”