Back At The Station…
The evening shift drags on, a monotonous cycle of restocking, cleaning, and waiting. By the time Carter, Jasmine, and Diego return to the station, the sun has long set, and the guys working the night shift are already settling in. The air is thick with the smell of stale coffee and disinfectant.
Carter gives his goodbyes, the words feeling hollow after the day’s events. He pulls on his helmet, the familiar weight a small comfort, and hops on his chopper. Starting the bike, the engine’s deep growl a welcome noise that drowns out the lingering echoes of Thomas’s voice in his head. He speeds out of the station, leaving the world of flashing lights and sterile supplies behind.
He arrives home to the warm, inviting glow of the living room lights. His mother is on the couch, a book resting in her lap.
“Hey honey, how was work?” she asks, her voice laced with a gentle concern that makes him feel both loved and scrutinized.
“Uggh, busy,” he says, dropping his work bag by the door. “More calls than usual today.”
He heads upstairs to shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime and fatigue of the day. He changes into a pair of comfortable joggers and an oversized elbow-sleeve tee, the soft fabric a welcome contrast to his stiff uniform. Tonight, he’s meeting Sam and Leo at a company party for Pellridge Inc., the biggest finance company in the world. Apparently, Leo has been crushing it at work, and his colleagues are throwing a party to celebrate. He wanted his two closest friends there with him.
He plugs in his over-ear headphones, the music instantly creating a buffer between him and the world. He sits at his computer desk, the familiar glow of the monitor illuminating his face.
I wonder what Leo’s colleagues are like, he thinks, opening a browser. Now that I think about it, Leo’s kind of similar to Diego. He has that charm that could woo anyone. He pauses, a frown creasing his brow. Actually, wait. What am I saying? Leo’s nothing like Diego. He’s one of the best guys I’ve ever met. Not to say that Diego is a bad guy… but he only plays fake nice at work.
He opens MooTube, the go-to video-sharing site owned by Floogle. He scrolls through the usual content: popular influencers performing insane stunts, their crazy video titles raking in absurd amounts of views and ad dollars. “Survive 30 Days In Solitary Confinement & Win $250,000.” “I Survived 16 Days In The Amazon With No Food & Water For $1M Dollars.”
“A lot of survival stuff,” he mutters to himself. “But I can’t hate. For $250,000 I’d lock myself in an empty cell. It can’t be that hard.”
Suddenly, a blinding, electric shock erupts in the center of his forehead. The pain is so intense, so unexpected, that he braces himself against the desk, a strangled yell escaping his lips.
“Ahhhh!!”
He squeezes his eyes shut, but the world behind his eyelids is a swirling, impenetrable black. The pain sharpens, becoming a frequent, stabbing pulse. It feels like a hot nail being driven into his skull.
“God! Why does my head hurt so much?”
He opens his eyes, then closes them again, trying to will the agony away. This time, flashes of strange symbols burst in the darkness of his mind.
He can tell it’s some sort of text, but the characters are alien, nothing like the sterile, universal script of Thaylic that he has known his entire life.
“What is that…?” he whispers, his voice tight with pain. “Those symbols? It looks nothing like Thaylic. But I understand what it means.”
He tries to read the symbols, focusing on them in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the throbbing in his forehead. The letters are fuzzy, indistinct, but he can make out the faint outlines of their shapes.
“W-w… a-a…”
As the symbols in his mind become clearer, the pain intensifies. A wave of nausea washes over him. “Ahhh, just STOP already!” He presses one hand to his forehead, the other gripping his knee, squeezing it tightly as if he can physically force the pain out of his body. The words sharpen, snapping into focus.
“W-wa… wake…”
He struggles to understand the unfamiliar symbols, his mind a battlefield of pain and confusion. Then, with a final, jarring snap, the fuzzy characters become perfectly clear, glowing with an internal, white light against the blackness of his mind.
“Wakeup? Is that what it says?” Carter speaks the word out loud, his voice a hoarse whisper in the quiet room.
The moment the word leaves his lips, the sharp pain in his forehead vanishes. It doesn’t fade; it’s simply gone, as if a switch has been flipped. He leans back in his computer chair, a long, shuddering sigh of relief escapes him.
“Ahhh… ah,” he pants, his heart hammering against his ribs. “God, what was that? Did I get some chemicals on me at work or something?” He runs a hand over his forehead, but the skin is cool, unbroken. “Those letters weren’t Thaylic at all.”
He stares at the blank computer screen, his mind racing. He knows, with an unshakable certainty, that the world has only ever had one language. It’s a fact of life, as fundamental as the sky being blue. And yet, he saw something else. He understood something else.
The contradiction is a jarring, unsettling dissonance in his mind. He tries to push it away, to dismiss it as a hallucination brought on by stress or a random, freak migraine. But the memory of the symbols, and the clear, undeniable meaning of the word they formed, is seared into his brain. He knows what he saw.
And it makes no sense at all.
A crisp knock sounds from his bedroom door, startling him.
“THUD! THUD! THUD!“
“Carter honey, are you okay!?” his mom’s voice calls from the hallway, laced with alarm. “I heard you yell from downstairs. It sounded like you got hurt, so I came to check on you.”
Scrambling for a plausible lie, his mind still reeling. “I’m fine, Mom, I just… uhh… stubbed my toe. Everything’s fine!”
A moment of silence hangs in the air. “Well… okay. If you need help, I’ll be in the office.”
“Okay, thanks!”
He waits until he hears her footsteps recede down the hall, then lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, he pushes the strange experience to the back of his mind and returns to MooTube. He navigates to the news section, his attention caught by videos going viral about insurgents in the Middle Eastern nation of Jiddala. According to the reports, American troops have been taken captive by a group calling themselves “Freedom of Jiddala.” President John F. Lincoln had recently made a statement about the escalating crisis.
Carter clicks on a video posted by the official Aegis Media Conglomerate (AMC News) account and hits play. The President appears on screen, his expression a mask of grave determination.
“My fellow Americans. I’m sure you all learned of what has just transpired in the nation of Jiddala. American troops have been taken hostage and held captive. These are our sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and comrades. Rest assured, that immediate and swift decisive actions are taking place to secure the safety of our…”
He watches the rest of the statement, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. “Wow, that’s actually horrible. I wonder wha…”
BZZZ! BZZZ!!
His phone vibrates on the desk, the sound a jarring interruption. He glances at the screen. It’s a message from Leo. He taps it open. It’s a text accompanied by an image.
“Dress nice tonight 😉”
The picture shows Leo with his arm slung casually around a pretty, thin, blonde-haired girl with blue eyes. That girl, in turn, has her arm around another girl—this one with tan skin, brunette hair, and striking amber eyes dotted with freckles. They are both beautiful.
He texts back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Did you just want to brag or something…?”
Leo’s reply is instantaneous. “LMAO, dumbass.”
A second text follows. “The blonde one is my plus 2, the brunette is her friend.”
And a third. “I sent her your profile pics.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Okay.”
“She said she likes you.”
“Sam’s bringing Margret with him. So we’ll all be paired up.”
Margret is Sam’s high-school girlfriend. They were still together, having gotten married at twenty-two, right after she graduated from college. The three of them had all gone to the same high school and knew each other well. Carter is a bit shocked by the sudden setup, but he feels a spark of genuine excitement perk up inside him.
“Oh, thanks for that.”
“Haha, thank me later bud 🙂 Don’t rub one out before you get here. I want you on your A-game.”
“Eww, your gross,” Sam replies in the group chat, followed by a laughing emoji.
“Lol jerk,” Carter types back, a real smile spreading across his face.
He sits back in his chair, thinking about Leo. That was nice of him. Leo was always like that, always looking out for his friends, even though he didn’t really have to. He always seemed to have it all figured out. Carter remembers how popular he was in high school; it made sense, with a famous former supermodel for a mother and an ex-NFL star for a father.
“To be honest, it’s kind of crazy that he went to public school anyway with that kind of background,” Carter says to himself, his voice a low murmur in the quiet room. “Back then, I couldn’t understand why he became friends with me or Sam. At first, I thought he did it out of mockery or something. You know, how some attractive people will befriend someone clearly uglier than them so they always look better in comparison. Kinda messed up. But nope. Never! Leo is just that solid of a guy.”
Smiling. “A-game, huh?”
He pushes away from the desk and walks to his closet, looking for something to wear. He decides on all black: a simple collared dress shirt, a pair of form-fitting dress pants, and black suede loafers. He pulls out his black leather jacket to complete the look. From his dresser, he retrieves the $1,000 silver watch his dad got him for his twenty-fourth birthday last year.
Collecting dust, but tonight feels like the right occasion for it. He swaps out his usual earrings for a pair of gold and green ones and applies a few sprays of a fancy-smelling cologne.
“I think this is decent,” he says, looking at his reflection. “Not gonna take the bike. I’ll probably end up having a few drinks.”
Current Time Is 10:23 Pm…
The clock on his phone reads 10:23 PM when he steps out of the Zubie Rideshare in the downtown city center. Dressed well, feeling a bit good after a small pre-game drink at home, he stands before a massive, illuminated hotel skyscraper. The venue is on the rooftop. The moon is out, a cool California breeze whispers through the air, and the temperature is a perfect seventy degrees. Absolute perfection.
He heads inside, the lobby a cavern of polished marble and glittering chandeliers. He scans the area for Leo and the group but doesn’t see them.
“Hey, over HERE!” a voice shouts from the distance.
He turns and spots them in a corner of the lobby: Leo, Sam, Margret, and the two women from the photo. Everyone is around his age. Leo, tall and broad-shouldered at six-foot-three, looks like a male model in a sharp navy-blue suit. Sam, shorter and slimmer at five-foot-nine, is dressed more casually in a white dress shirt and black slacks. His wife, Margret, is a happy, cheerful presence in a simple white dress, a delicate gold cross necklace at her throat.
He feels a familiar twinge of nerves, but pushes it down and heads over to the group.
“Damn, man, where were you?” Leo says, his voice booming. “I was about to leave! We were waiting like an hour for you.”
Shocked. “Oh my god, seriously? I thought we were supposed to meet up at…”
“I’m just messing with you, we got here like five minutes ago,” Leo says with a laugh, breaking the ice with his usual brand of humor. “Let me introduce you guys.” He gestures to the blonde-haired girl from the photo. “This is my friend, Stephanie.”
“Hey, nice to meet you!” she says, shaking Carter’s, Sam’s, and Margret’s hands.
“And this is…” Leo begins, turning to the brunette.
“Lexi! Nice to meet you,” she says enthusiastically, her amber eyes sparkling as she takes Carter’s hand. “Leo talks about you a lot.”
“Oh, god, what did he tell you?” Carter asks in a joking tone, a smile spreading across his face.
“Just all the super important, horribly embarrassing stuff,” Leo says with a grin.
“Wait, what about the slightly less-important, moderately embarrassing stuff?” Sam chimes in.
“Haha, very funny, guys,” Carter says.
Lexi continues, her gaze locked on Carter’s. “No, it was more like how great of a friend you were. And how much I’d like you when we met.” She gives his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “And he wasn’t lying, you look really cute. :)”
“Oouuuu-weeeh. Car-Terrrrr? You hear that?” Leo says in a dramatic, joking tone. “Forget the rooftop. I got a hotel key you can borrow. Might as well let you kids wear yourselves out.”
The group laughs.
“B-b-but, what about meee!” Sam says in a funny, sarcastic voice.
“Bro, your wife is standing right next to you,” Leo replies, shaking his head.
“Yeah, my bad, babe,” Sam says, looking at Margret for a second before everyone breaks out into laughter again.
Leo checks his phone, a text from his work colleagues lighting up the screen. “Okay, let’s head up. I think everyone’s there.”
The group walks together.
Sam and Margret lock arms, as do Leo and Stephanie. Carter and Lexi walk side-by-side, not touching. Then, Lexi reaches out, grabs Carter’s arm, and wraps hers around it, looking him directly in the eye.
“Well, it would be weird if I didn’t,” she says with a playful smile.
“Yea… you’re right,” Carter says, a genuine smile on his face. Thinking to himself, Leo, you weren’t kidding when you said layup.
The six of them are now on the rooftop. The view is incredible, a sprawling panorama of city lights under a dark, moonlit sky. The atmosphere is electric. A large seating area with red suede couches surrounds an infinity pool where a few women are enjoying a night swim. Music thumps from hidden speakers, a driving, energetic beat that vibrates through the polished floor. About thirty or so men and women, mostly men dressed in sharp suits, light up when Leo walks in.
“LEO’S HERE!!” someone yells from across the lounge.
“Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!” A group of five suited men begins to chant, a rhythmic, primal sound that reminds Carter of something out of a stockbroker movie or a US Marine Corps advertisement. A few of them break away and approach Leo’s group. They are clearly his colleagues, their faces flushed with excitement and alcohol.
“I almost thought you weren’t going to show on us,” one of them says.
“Haha, of course I would,” Leo replies, clapping the man on the shoulder. Gesturing to the man. “Guys, this is one of my colleagues, Marcus.”
“Ooh, I see you’ve brought some friends with you,” Marcus says, his eyes scanning the group with a practiced, appraising gaze.
Leo grabs Sam and Carter’s shoulders, pulling them into a half-embrace. “These jackasses are my best buddies. I’ve known these guys forever.” Then gesturing to Margret. “This is Sam’s wife, Margret.”
“Hello,” says Margret with a polite smile.
“And these two are Stephanie and Lexi.”
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
Carter asks, “So what did Leo do to get this big of a party?”
“Oh, he didn’t mention?” Marcus says, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and envy. “He closed one of the biggest deals in Pellridge history. We’ve been trying to get that client for years, and I couldn’t believe it when he landed them. I think it’s cause the owner’s daughter has a crush on him, though.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Sam says with a laugh.
“So, how do you guys know Leo?” Marcus asks.
“Oh well, all three of us have been friends since high school.”
“Dang! You guys go back that far? You must have some juicy details on him… Haha.”
“Well, there was this one time…” Sam begins, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“AHHH, Lalalala… anyway,” Leo interrupts loudly, changing the subject with a grin. “Haha, well you guys enjoy yourselves. Tonight, all the drinks are on the house.”
1 Hour Later…
The night is in full swing. The atmosphere has loosened, the initial stiffness replaced by a boisterous, celebratory energy. Leo is holding court with his colleagues, basking in their praise.
Sam and Margret are relaxing at the bar, while Carter and Lexi seem to be exchanging good vibes, their conversation easy and flowing.
Marcus and two of the other colleagues from earlier return to the group, their movements now a bit tipsy but still coherent.
Everything about them—their slick appearance, their confident speech, their casual demeanor—screams of a life Carter can’t imagine.
They are the silver spoon, rich parents, perfect upbringing, Ivy League grad kind of people.
They look like the dictionary definition of “trust fund kids.”
Approaching the group, Marcus focuses on Carter and Sam.
“Hey man, you and Sam seem pretty cool. You guys should come work for Pellridge. If you’re close friends with Leo, I’m sure everyone will be happy to have you around,” Marcus says to Carter, his tone open and friendly.
“Oh, thanks, man. That’s super nice of you,” Carter replies.
“Don’t sweat it! By the way, what do you guys currently do for work?”
Sam replies first. “Oh, I’m studying to be a surgeon. I’m in med school right now, so I’ve got a few years left, then I can try to get a residency.”
“Wow, never mind about the job offer then,” Marcus says with a laugh.
“WOOOO! YEAH!” screams Leo, his voice cutting through the din. He and Stephanie, both clearly turned up by the party’s atmosphere, rejoin the group.
“Man, you’re an animal,” Marcus says to Leo.
“Guilty!” Leo replies. “So, what were you guys up to?”
“Your buddy here was saying he’s going to be a surgeon.”
“Yeah, Sam’s the smart one out of us,” Leo says, clapping Sam on the back. “I, on the other hand, specialize in being HOT.”
Marcus turns his attention back to Carter. “So, what do you do for work?”
“Oh, I work in EMS.”
“Really, that’s noble. Are you… like a paramedic or a supervisor or something?”
“Oh no, I’m just a technician.”
The two men standing behind Marcus chuckle, a quiet, dismissive sound that doesn’t escape Carter’s notice.
Marcus puts a hand to his head and shakes it slightly, a gesture of mild disbelief. Carter feels a sudden, prickling sense of unease. He wonders what was wrong with what he said.
Leo, though drunk, seems to sense the vibe shift as well.
“So, a high-stress, low-margin field,” Marcus says, his tone changing, becoming more serious, more analytical.
“So what’s your five-year plan for leveraging that experience into a more scalable career path?”
The friendly, relaxed vibe has evaporated, replaced by an intense, judgmental scrutiny. “Uhhm, excuse me?”
“Hey guys, I got to tell you what happened with…” Leo interrupts, trying to steer the conversation away from the money-focused views of his colleagues.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s an admirable career,” Marcus says, talking over Leo.
“But you’re not making much as a technician. California’s expensive, man. You can’t be pulling in more than $40k a year with a gig like that.”
“But… it’s not the end of the world. I mean, did you at least go to college?” Marcus asks.
“No, I didn’t. Wasn’t for me,” replies Carter, his voice tight.
“Ouch!” says one of the colleagues behind Marcus.
“Got roommates?” Marcus presses.
“No, I live with my parents,” Carter replies, the words feeling like a confession.
“Ohhh, boy…” Marcus says, and the two men behind him absolutely lose it with laughter. It’s not a quiet chuckle this time, but loud, unrestrained mockery.
Sam chimes in, trying to defend him.
“I don’t see the big issue. I mean, I live at home too,” Sam says.
“Sure, but you’re married, and studying to be a surgeon. That’s a bit different.”
Carter glances at Lexi. The girl who had been holding his arm just an hour ago now seems to have pulled away, her body language closed off. The warmth in her eyes is gone.
“Hey guys, what’s your deal? I thought everything was cool here?” Leo says, his voice sharp with annoyance.
“I’m just asking questions, man,” says Marcus.
Leaning on the bar, covering his mouth with his hand as he tries to hold back another wave of laughter.
“Listen, Carter, Leo is a great guy for sticking by his high school friends. It shows character. But he’s on an upward trajectory.” Continuing, his words punctuated by suppressed giggles.
“W-we have some entry-level openings at Pellridge, if you’re ever looking for a real career.”
Marcus and the two men behind him are cracking up now, not caring about being subtle.
Leo still drunk interrupts, his voice firm. “Guys, lay off. He’s not a stock portfolio.”
Margret chimes in as well. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal. Leo’s father lets me live in their home with Sam. It’s better that way for the baby…”
“THE BABY!” yells Leo, his mood instantly shifting from anger to pure elation.
“You guys are having a baby?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that…” says Sam.
“I’M GOING TO BE THE COOL UNCLE!” Leo starts going ballistic, the conversation about Carter’s career instantly forgotten. The mood shifts, but the damage is done.
Little by little, throughout the rest of the night, the others slowly pull away from Carter.
He is physically present but conversationally invisible. They don’t insult him; they talk through him. His attempts to join in are met with polite but firm blocks as they steer the topic back to their world of finance, investments, and elite connections.
He feels like a child at the adults’ table.
All he can think about are the words his boss, Thomas, said earlier: “…you just blend in… we don’t need a guy like you in charge.”
Sam and Margret, with their news of a baby on the way, have earned the acceptance of Marcus and Leo’s colleagues.
And Lexi, the girl who called him cute, has completely lost interest.
He sees her across the lounge, chatting and laughing with one of the trust fund types.
Current Time Is 3:00 Am…
Lying in his bed, the moonlight from the window illuminating the blank, numb expression on his face. He feels utterly inadequate, slightly ashamed.
“What the fuck happened?” he whispers into the darkness. “It was such a perfect night.”
Thinking about the events of the night. The familiar pattern of moonlight on his ceiling did nothing to calm the buzzing in Carter’s ears. He could still hear their laughter. Not the loud, open kind, but the quiet, sharp little chuckles that cut deeper than any insult.
Marcus’s condescending smile.
Lexi pulling her arm away.
The memory sent a hot flush crawling up his neck. Squeezing his eyes shut, but the images were seared on the inside of his eyelids. He wasn’t just an EMT. He was a joke. A high school friend Leo kept around out of pity.
The thought landed like a stone in his gut, heavy and cold.
A cold, hard resolve begins to form in the pit of his stomach.
“This can’t be it. Something has to change.”
