Ryan was glad he had taken the time to do some reading. The next chapter in The Deep Astral was about repairing damaged nodes. The book broke the Astral Realm into layers. The layer that most closely interacted with the real world was called the Superficial. The way the book described the Superficial Layer was as if were made up of different cells, the size of which were predicated on the density of the population around them. Something about the way the human mind operated had a direct effect on the realm of the Astral. The author postulated that the accumulation of psychic energy was responsible for the formation of the Astral Realm, and that shared cultural beliefs would synergize and reinforce the cell walls.

  For the most part the book tried to approach things scientifically and it attempted to steer clear of any associations with the occult. It only provided information based on the evidence and experiences of those who had a direct interaction with the Astral, and even then, it was careful to point out subjectivity and bias. The cells that made up the astral were held together by a central “locus” that prevented them from dispersing. Damage to those nodes could cause the Astral realm to either dissipate harmlessly or, in the case of the Crisis, emerge into reality. The latter were predicated by Astral Tears, or rips in reality, that would allow the Astral energy to bleed through, and if they were not repaired in time could cause a catastrophic reaction with neighboring cells, leading to Astral Incursions.

  The locus itself took on primordial shapes, the complexity of which were related to the size of the population in the area they were adjacent to. If they became misshapen or shattered that would cause an Astral Tear, and the first Astral Travelers had discovered that if they willed the shapes back into the proper form, the locus would stabilize, and the fissure would close.

  “How hard can it be to mold a shape with my mind?” Ryan said to the room. “I guess I won’t know until I try.” He was in his pajamas now, having gone through his evening routine, and he toned the lighting down in his room to about the same temperature as the candlelight from Lisa’s. He set his book down and picked up the Concentrated Firmament from his nightstand. He began to examine it more closely.

  As he watched the ever-moving clouds of milky light swirl within the orb he realized this was the first time he’d ever really looked at it without his goggles on. There was something about edges of the orb that he hadn’t quite noticed before, like they pushed away the world, like it had an event horizon just along its curve. He felt it growing heavier in his grip, as if it wanted to drop right through the world, and pull him with it. There was a tickle in the center of his forehead that Ryan was only semi-conscious of, so absorbed was he with the little marble in his palm. He closed his eyes.

  Taking a cue from the guided meditation earlier that day he imagined a renewing energy entering his lungs and the excess negativity flowing out. As he focused on his breath, he felt a thought drift up from the depths of his mind. Our dreams predict the future. If we control our dreams, we control the future. He let the thought go and kept focusing on his breath. He felt tension he didn’t even know was there melt from his shoulders, his arms, his legs, and even his face. His expression became slack. He turned his mind’s eye toward creating an image of his Eidolon. He had thought that it would be difficult, as its core always seemed to be in a state of flux, but to his surprise the image became vividly clear almost instantly. He could feel its pulse in his palm, its vibrational hum, and in his mind, he saw it clearly mimicking the feeling. The distinctness of the object in his mind contrasted so starkly with the dark canvas he had painted it on that it reminded him of—

  —the moon shone high above through a break in the dark clouds. The ocean roared as the tide swept in. He tasted the salt of the sea on his tongue. A cold wind pressed against his face as Ryan descended the now familiar stairwell. A light mist, white under the moonlight, posed a stark contrast against the black seascape as it hovered above the sand in wisps. It looked like the ghostly apparition of wave crests had transposed themselves upon the sandy beach.

  Ryan stepped upon the sand, feeling the granules fill in between his toes as his feet sank slightly with his weight. He took his hand from the cold steal guardrail and moved forward. A beam of light from the moon shone down upon a pillar of dark granite that sat amid a clearing within the misty shore. The fog danced around it like the inner world of the Concentrated Firmament's core. Ryan looked up at the “moon" and saw instead of craters and valleys its surface was an ever-changing landscape of vaporous incandescence. The light bathed him in a glow that ignited his soul.

  Energized he turned his attention back to the beach and the pillar. It was no longer a pillar, but a child robed in the moonlight, sitting with a large book in his lap. Ryan entered the clearing, and the boy looked up, face pale and illuminated, and he said:

  “Put the book in your lap, and the orb in your hand.”

  “The book?” Ryan asked, entranced by the glowing countenance.

  “Read the words of other worlds undefined. Gain a new perspective.” The boy pointed up, and the moon began to twirl, and around it the gray clouds began to whirl, a funnel forming. A tempest fomenting. He felt the spin begin to grab him. Around and around until he was—

  Flung out! Ryan floated there in his room again. Saw himself sitting on his bed with legs crossed, shoulders slumped, and a piercing light glowing near his stomach where he cupped the orb of Concentrated Firmament. He saw a line drifting from his body towards his floating form.

  He understood he needed to realize his Astral Self and strengthen that tether. He considered what Lisa was really trying to teach him. Densification. He felt weightless and without substance. Ryan tried to recreate an image in his mind of what he thought he looked like. He thought about his hands and feet, his arms and legs, his torso, neck and head. He could feel them becoming, but when he looked down it was like looking at his PerSpectives when camouflaged.

  He thought about the orb then. Specifically, about the strangeness of its edges, how they were entirely separated from reality more distinctly than any object he'd ever seen. He projected the feeling that gave him into his mental image of self and then, looking down, he saw a new distinctiveness to his form. He clasped his hands together and sensed the contact. He patted his new Astral Body down, feeling the pressure of his body push back against his touch. The tether to his body had become more distinct and vibrant.

  He decided he was ready to try and leave his room, so Ryan let himself drift upward, through the ceiling, then attic, and roof until he was hovering over his neighborhood. Stars poked through the mostly overcast sky, but streetlamps were the primary source of light, glowing orbs of light bursting from underneath them in the light drizzle that still drifted through the air.

  Ryan turned in the direction of his school as he ascended higher. The three-story building stood was easy to spot, not only because it was one of the larger buildings in the area, but also because there was a strange aurora gently pouring up from it before dissipating into the night sky. Ryan began to move in that direction, watching the rooftops pass swiftly under him. In almost no time at all he found himself hovering over the roof of the school, the iridescent lights of the aurora now before him. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried to touch it. Instead, he sank down through the ceiling, all the way to the first floor.

  He was in that familiar hallway. The air shuddered as if it were made of liquid. Rapid, quivering pulses, emanating from the room he had been dreaming of. The aurora wasn’t visible from here, but he could almost sense it through the walls. He approached the janitor’s closet and could see tiny hair fractures lancing out from it as he got closer, like the world was made out of glass, and it was about to break. He wasn’t sure what would happen when he passed the threshold of the door. He couldn’t see through it but knew that he would be going right up against the source of the fissure. This was what he had come he for, however, so he steeled himself and moved inward.

  ***

  Mae Yumeno stepped from the warm luxury of the Ministry transport into the damp autumn air of District 7, dressed for business. The rest of her team followed shortly after, Sarah making a bit of a fuss as the chill night air bit through her nano-weave. They had arrived via the sub-transit line, a hype speed electromagnetic train that provided quick and easy transit between all the Districts and inner city. From there they had been picked up by a black ministry sedan and were now standing in front of one of the Ministry of Integrity’s satellite buildings. It was a five story building made of reflective glass, with a dome at the top that contained the sensitive equipment the Ministry used to detect anomalous activity.

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  Triston took in the surroundings with a slight shake of the head. This was his first time leaving the city, and was surprised by how quaint the downtown of District 7 was. The smallest building in Inner City still in use was at least thirty stories tall. Here, the Ministry building towered over the other buildings on the street. There were few franchise stores, and many mom and pop locations, though most had their lights off, it being almost midnight. One store that did have its lights on caught is eye. It was simply called Corner Bakery, and despite the damp night, its doors were open and the smell of fresh baked bread came wafting out into the street.

  “I’m hungry,” he said. “Anyone else?”

  “We’re not here for sight seeing,” Mae said. “We have a job to do.”

  “I believe our orders were to get rested,” Tristan shot back. “Can’t work on an empty stomach.”

  “Sure,” said Sarah. “I’ll could do with a bite.” Tristan raised an eyebrow at Mae.

  “Fine,” she acceded. “I’ll get us checked in to the dorms and see if anything new has come up.” Tristan waited expectantly and then she said, “I’ll take sourdough if they have it. With butter.” He smiled as she followed their Ministry Laison into the building.

  “Shall we?” Tristan said, gesturing for Sarah to go first.

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Mister,” she said, wagging her finger. “We can walk side by side like normal adults.” Tristan rolled his eyes, and they set out together down the street. As they walked Sarah’s typically bubbly attitude seemed to become subdued. “I’ve been dreaming about John,” she said. “Ever since it happened.” Tristan nodded but didn’t say anything, giving her the space to talk it out. “It just, happened so fast, and with the way things have been going, I haven’t really had time to process it. I’ve never seen anyone get their soul tether shattered before. And the way it happened, it was a…it was a…” he throat caught.

  “It was a nightmare,” Tristan finished for her.

  “Yeah,” she said. “You've seen it happen before, with your old team, right?” Tristan stiffened but nodded.

  “You’ve been part of the team for so long now, it’s easy for me to forget that you weren’t with us in the beginning, when we were just figuring things out.” They made it to the bakery and stepped inside. The baker was nowhere to be seen, though they could hear some noises coming from the back of the shop.

  “Customers at this hour?” a gruff voice echoed through the open door behind the counter. “I’ll be out in a minute, make yourself comfortable.” They both took a seat at one of the tables and after taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Tristan continued.

  “Back then, nothing made sense; physical laws were more like physical suggestions, people’s thoughts would manifest directly into reality. We didn’t know about astral tethers or soul shock. We were just kind of making it up as we went along.” Tristan began absently running his thumb along his eyebrow, looking down at the table contemplatively. “Still, the children were strong and had certain…” he looked up at Sarah, as if gauging what he could say to her. “I’ll say, peculiarities, that gave them advantages that no one else had. It got to a point where we all felt they were untouchable. Things changed when we went into the Astral. When we encountered our first nightmare.”

  The chef came bustling in carrying two large loafs of bread on a large wooden spatula, giving Sarah a start. Her brief inclination towards annoyance was arrested by the scent that emanated from the freshly baked food. Tristan stood and headed towards the counter; Sarah followed. The baker glanced over his shoulder at the large clock on the wall above him.

  “Waiting until Midnight to have a Midnight Snack is a little on the nose,” he joked. “Name’s Greg Montague. What can I get for you?”

  “We’ll take those loafs,” Sarah interjected before Tristan could get a word out.

  “I’ll be sad to part with them, I’ll admit,” said the baker. “But I’ll get over it. Will you be dining here?”

  “Yeah, I think that’ll be fine, Greg,” Tristan said.

  “I’ve got meats and cheeses if you’re interested in a little protein,” he offered.

  “No, just the bread is fine I think,” Tristan said after getting an affirming glance from Sarah.

  “Butter? Wine?”

  “Sometimes there’s no better meal,” Sarah said.

  “You read Steppenwolf?” the baker tried to keep the incredulous tone from his voice.

  “Required reading for one of my professors,” she said.

  “Never heard of it,” Tristan said. “To answer your question: butter is good. No Wine.”

  “Ah, on the job, eh?” Greg made the question sound rhetorical so as not to make his guests feel he was prying into their business. He amiably sliced the loafs and set them on wooden plates before the two, setting a bowl of whipped butter with a pair of dull knives resting on its lip. He took a glance at their black jumpsuits, noting the distinctive pattern of the nano-weave, and gave a knowing grunt. “On the job, nano-weave fiber, and some mandatory reading involving the dream theater. You must be Ministry folk. Should I be worried?”

  “Oh, not at all, sir,” Sarah said. “We’re just here to evaluate the students for entry into the Academy.” She was flawless in her dismissal and her eyes sparkled at the large man in a way that made sure his worry was the last thing on his mind. He left them to their food and sauntered back behind the counter to give his customers some space. The two stiffened as a communication came into their earpieces on the team channel. It was Mae.

  “Are you two done over there?” she asked, and then continued, not waiting for a response. “Our sensors are picking up anomalous readings in the direction of the local school. I’m going to check it out, I need you two back here now.”

  “Roger that,” Tristan said. When the baker looked up he gave him a charming smile. “Looks like we’ll take this to go,” he said. “Our boss wants us racked up and rested for our day tomorrow.” He brought the bread up to the counter so the baker could slide it into bags. Sarah handed him the butter which he also packed up for them. Once he finished they turned to go, but Tristan stopped and turned back. “Oh, and do you have any sourdough?”

  Mae had forgone checking into her dorm when she entered the ministry and had the branch liaison take her straight to the sensor array dome. She was facing towards the school which was clearly visible from her vantage and glancing down at the display panel. It showed a wide spectrum view and was picking up some interesting readings. A faint pillar of light seemed to be cascading skyward. She had never seen anything quite like it, and that left her unsettled. Then she saw something small drifting quickly towards the light.

  “What was that?” she asked the tech on duty.

  “What was what?” he asked, turning from his instrument panel towards the display.

  “Rewind it,” she ordered. He gave her a mild look but complied, shifting into playback mode and turning a dial to rewind the recording. “Stop there. Go forward a few frames.” Slowly the man turned the dial in the other direction, squinting his bespectacled eyes at the screen. “There,” she said, tapping her finger on the display over what looked like a blurry streak of green paint.

  “That?” the man hunched further forward, tilting his head. “Looks like an artifact to me. We get those all the time with this equipment. It has been needing overhaul for over a decade at this point, but the funding just isn’t there for the outlying districts.”

  “Just, resume playback at a quarter speed,” Mae said, not taking the bait. She didn’t have time to discuss things outside her purview.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said a bit sarcastically. He lowered the playback speed and hit play.

  “That ‘Artifact’ sure does seem to be going in a straight line towards that fountain of light,” she said, the hair on the back of her neck beginning to rise. She decided to call her team in and headed towards the projection room. If there was a fissure forming, she wanted to close it before it got any bigger. And if there was an undocumented Traveler in this district, she wanted to find out who it was. The longer she waited for her team the more anxiety she felt roiling in her normally placid mind.

  “Damnit, Tristan,” she muttered and then laid down on one of the available couches. If she got any more nervous, she wouldn’t be able to project properly. She pulled up a tablet and opened their mission log, made a note about what she saw and where she would be going. They would just have to catch up with her on the other side. Mae Yumeno closed her eyes, took slow measured breaths, and began to hypnotize herself.