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rainandhotchocolate · 4 years

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Blackout - Part 5

A/N did this take me two weeks to write? Am I complete mess? Lots of questions. ANyways I hope you enjooooyyy! :)))

Part 5

Sirius punched the large figure in front of him repeatedly, feeling bone shatter under his knuckles. Four sets of hands reached forwards and grabbed him across the chest, pulling him backwards.

“He’s not going to share much if you kill him,” Remus growled, pulling Sirius back towards the entrance of the kitchen and away from the scene.

“Get off me,” Sirius tried to kick back but Remus held strong, pushing him forwards into the living room and locking the door behind him. Sirius looked like he was wondering if he could ram the door down, flicking his eyes between Remus and the door. He felt like they were close. They had to be close, Sirius had been questioning informants for weeks waiting to find someone who knew more about that night.

“He must know something,” Sirius huffed, giving up on his pacing and sitting down on the couch. He raked his hands through his hair. Remus leant against the doorframe looking pensive.

“Do you remember anything else about that night?”

“Are you accus-“

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Padfoot,” Remus rolled his eyes, “I’m just saying we didn’t ever speak about it, and in the moment I wouldn’t expect you to be remembering exactly what was happening.”

Sirius didn’t say anything for a few moments. He knew what Remus saying was logical, in the middle of a fight Sirius wasn’t thinking about anything except what was in front of him. But another part of him was saying that he should have been there, should have been watching her. That it’s his fault.

“I don’t know, I remember going in with her, she wanted to check all the rooms first cause she was trying to prove to Dumbledore to be moved up, do more missions by herself.” Sirius shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “We heard movement in the back room, above where the dark mark was. We went in together and I didn’t realise she had moved from my side until she was on the ground and Lily was screaming at me.”

Remus hummed, staring at the fireplace. Sirius kept flashing back to that night, dreaming of different scenarios, Y/N being pulled away from him, screaming in pain on the floor right beside him. Without him noticing.

Three knocks on the door broke him out of his stupor. Remus flicked his wand at the door and it opened to reveal James.

“We got the veritasirum into him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Doing good!” Turpin encouraged, a hand still hovering at Y/N’s back as she inched forwards. It was an odd feeling, like she knew what she was meant to be doing, place one foot in front of the other, you know, walk. But her legs were taking a few seconds to register the thought. They also ached as if she had just gone for a three-hour run but instead her muscles had atrophied from bed rest. Y/N and Turpin currently did four walks a day to the cafeteria for food and then back to her bed.

“Calm movements, the more you force it the more you are going to associate movement with frustration and panic,” Turpin warned as he caught her before her feet tripped themselves up on the stairwell.

“I thought magic was supposed to make things like this easier.” Y/N grumbled, letting Turpin guide her through three deep breaths before continuing.

“If you were at a muggle hospital you wouldn’t even be walking yet.” Turpin smiled at her, “And to be honest you are progressing much faster than we anticipated, many who are hit with the cruciatus curse multiple times aren’t stable enough to be communicating, let along walking.”

“Might have something to do with not remembering it,” Y/N muttered. If Turpin heard her, he didn’t respond, walking slowly beside her as they reached the top of the stairs and moved closer to her room. Another healer was standing in front of the doorway, waiting for them.

“You have a visitor,” She beamed at the two of them, giving a quick look over to Turpin who nodded curtly. Y/N huffed. So clearly, she was still under observation for a potential mental breakdown. Lovely.

Turpin pushed the door open for her and Y/N hobbled inside. Y/N knew who would be waiting for her and hated that she still felt her throat constrict. This time Sirius was holding a large wooden board, placing it down on the bed so that he could come over and help Y/N.

“I’m ok.” Y/N tried to pry Sirius’ hands off her back softly, not wanting to look up at his face.

“She needs to be practising by herself,” Turpin chimed in and Y/N sucked in a breath.

“Oh of course,” Sirius stepped back to walk slowly beside her instead. Y/N winced as the three of them walked at snail pace towards the bed, Sirius clearly taking half steps to match her movements.

“I thought we could play some chess,” Sirius finally spoke again, pulling the wooden board over so Y/N could slip into bed.

“Sounds good.”

“I have to warn you, I’ve been practising,” Sirius grinned, “You might not destroy me this time.”

“I’ll aim for a simple win then.”

Sirius barked a laugh. Y/N had always liked his laugh, in school it was the same, the loud, full bodied kind of laugh that made everyone want to join in.

“You first,” Sirius looked up at her as she decided where to move her first pawn. Sirius had come once every two days with Lily until she had deigned him able to come by himself if he first checked with Y/N. Lily brought different people to visit her each day, Remus brought chocolate and more books, Peter brought sweets from Honeydukes and a large potion that made her feel calm and a bit giddy. James came with Sirius sometimes, sharing stories about his latest escapades under the invisibility cloak and Sirius adding in more embarrassing moments that James would ‘forget’ to bring up.

“Pawn to B3,” Y/N watched the pawn move forwards and looked up at Sirius, suddenly taken aback. He had a long cut carved down the side of his cheek and onto his neck. “Are you ok?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, momentarily confused, before he followed her gaze and touched his cheek.

“Oh, yeah, just got into a bit of a scuffle on a job,” Sirius grinned but Y/N felt suspicious.

“Doing what? Don’t you work at the Leaky Cauldron,” Y/N watched as Sirius moved his pawn and looked up at her, head crooked to one side.

“Yeah… I meant at…” Sirius cut himself off, still looking at her curiously. “What do you remember doing before, well before.”

“Doing?”

“Like, your job, day-to-day existence.”

“Right,” Y/N snorted, “Uh, I guess I remember working at the ministry? Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Going to the pub with Gideon? I don’t know, regular stuff.”

Y/N shrugged, looking back down at the board, “It’s your turn by the way.”

Sirius’s expression had become more and more alarmed as she’d spoke, but he shook his head and moved his knight.

“What?” Y/N probed, “Is something wrong? Am I missing something?”

“No, nothing.” Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I guess, do you know what happened to Gideon?”

Y/N felt her breathing hitch as he mentioned the name. Lily had spoken to her about Gideon a week previous. That he was dead. Gone.

“Yeah, got into a fight. Idiot.” Y/N looked away from Sirius, blinking away tears that threatened to fall onto her cheeks.

“Right… yeah.” Sirius bit his lip, looking uncomfortable. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I just guess I’m reliving it. Not that I remember the first time.” Y/N laughed but it came out bitter. “We broke up on good terms, I kind of expected him to be madly in love with some gorgeous girl… not, well. Anyway.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make it fresh again.”

“All good, you guys have all had time to deal with it is all.” Y/N took a deep breath, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Aren’t we playing a game, come on.”

“Of course! Ok, pawn to E4.” Sirius put on a wide grin that didn’t reach his eyes. Y/N felt like she was missing something, but to be honest she felt like that a lot lately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lily,” Sirius growled, pulling open the door to their cottage and storming into the kitchen. James was stirring a pot of pasta and pointed into the living room.

“In there,” James snorted at Sirius’s expression but did nothing to stop his rampage into the next room.

“Lily!” Sirius called again, louder this time as she spotted her sitting on the couch with a book.

“What, Sirius,” She didn’t bother looking up, turning the page and continuing to read. Sirius pulled the book out from her hands.

“You couldn’t have warned me?” Sirius watched as Lily sat up, her expression frustrated.

“Warned you about what? Going to have to be more specific, Black.” Lily reached out to grab the book but he held it away, getting even more annoyed at her use of his last name.

“About Y/N – she doesn’t remember the order.”

That stopped her. Lily’s brows furrowed and she sat back into the couch.

“What?”

“She doesn’t remember the order! How can you not know this, you told her about Gideon!”

“Yeah, I told her an abridged version, I didn’t think she needed to hear that her ex-boyfriend was bloody torn apart by five death eaters,” Lily hissed back at him, “I didn’t think she had no idea what I was referring to.”

“Well she is pretty sure he got into a fight and somehow ended up dead.” Sirius turned on the spot, stretching out his neck. “And has no memory of doing anything with the order.”

“How do you-“

“I bloody asked her!”

“But we’ve spoken about the order to her – you told her how you met.”

That was true, Sirius thought, sucking in a breath, maybe she just wasn’t sure, foggy on the memories, on what it was.

Amid Sirius’s pacing, Lily had thrown a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and called out “Remus, Peter, are you available?”

Moments later, two boys were stepping out of the fireplace and brushing off their clothes. Sirius turned and hugged Remus and then Peter who squeaked when he gripped a bit too tightly.

“What’s going on? Is everything ok?” Remus began quickly, remaining standing even when Lily nodded to the large armchair to his right.

“Everything’s fine – ok not fine, but there’s no emergency,” Lily corrected herself with a roll of her eyes when Sirius glared.

“Are you all staying for dinner?” James called from the kitchen. There was a chorus of ‘Yes’, and a loud groan from James.

“So, what’s going on?” Peter picked at the edge of the couch cushion nervously. He was always nervous lately; the war didn’t agree with him. Or anyone, Sirius thought.

“We are worried that Y/N doesn’t remember the order.”

“What?”

“Are you serious?”

“Apparently so,” Sirius muttered, finally sitting down on the couch with a sigh. “I asked about it today, she only remembers working at the Ministry.”

“Did you tell her what it is?” Remus asked, looking worried.

“No, of course not,” Sirius waved Remus off and his face slackened, “But I just… it feels specific, right? To go back to before the order. It’s like they didn’t want to kill her but wanted her confused enough to forget what made her dangerous.”

“You think she was targeted?” Peter asked, eyes wide.

“Well it’s not exactly standard for death eaters to erase memory over torture and kill it is.” Lily replied, bitterly.

“But erasing a specific chunk of someone’s memory? That takes a lot of effort and power to control, surely an accidental hit makes more sense.” Remus mused, “And anyway, we haven’t gotten any kind of information that would warrant that kind of specificity, everyone we’ve found has just spoke about killing anyone they saw, on site.”

“Did she say anything about having information? About anything she wanted to tell you?” Lily asked Sirius but he shook his head.

“Nothing that I can remember.”

They fell into a silence, broken only by the sound of James cursing loudly in the kitchen.

“Dinner!” James yelled out to the group and they stood, trapsing into the kitchen. Lily grabbed Sirius’ arm before he went through the door and held him back.

“Hey, just a heads up, I got a note from the healer this morning just after you went to visit Y/N.”

“And?”

“And she’s going to be allowed back home in the next few days.”

Sirius tried to remain calm but he felt his heart pounding and the edges of his lips curl up into a smile. Lily, however, remained straight-faced.

“She’s requested to come here.” Lily kept a hand on Sirius’s arm, watching him closely.

“Oh,” was all he managed to get out.

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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Where To Eat With Someone Who’s Already Eaten Everywhere added to Google Docs

Where To Eat With Someone Who’s Already Eaten Everywhere

You love going out to eat and feel pretty confident in your LA restaurant knowledge. But there’s always that one person in your life - maybe it’s a roommate, or Eric from accounting - who has somehow managed to eat everywhere. You’re terrified to make a dinner plan with them because you don’t want to be ridiculed for choosing a place for plebeians. Relax. This is LA, and you have plenty of options. Here is a list of lesser-known spots both old and new that are exciting but not mainstream. Your move, Eric.

the spots Jakob Layman Bar Avalon $ $ $ $ American , Mediterranean in Echo Park $$$$ 2112 W Sunset Blvd 8.2 /10

Located right on Sunset Blvd. in the heart of Echo Park, Bar Avalon is in one of the most restaurant-dense neighborhoods in the city, and yet, this wine bar/restaurant is still a complete secret. You can certainly come here during the day and snag an excellent beef tongue Reuben, but Bar Avalon is at their best during dinner. Delicious, interesting food (including our favorite roast chicken in town), wine for any budget, and a warm atmosphere that feels like you’re eating at your friend’s house - Bar Avalon has all the ingredients to be a neighborhood staple, so go with your snotty co-workers now, before they claim to have discovered it first.

Jakob Layman Biriyani Kabob House $ $ $ $ Indian , Bangladeshi , Pakistani in Koreatown $$$$ 3525 W 3rd St 8.4 /10

That guy Trevor in your on-camera class loves telling you that the best food in LA is in strip malls, but you already knew that. Plus, you’re fairly certain that he hasn’t been to one of the greatest strip mall spots in town - Biriyani Kabob House. Located in Little Bangladesh on the northern fringe of Koreatown, this order-at-the-counter Indian/Bangladeshi/Pakistani restaurant is the kind of place you take friends to once, then two days later they’re texting you to go back. As the name suggests, biriyani and kabobs are definitely house specialties here, but you definitely can’t leave without getting a few curries as well. The spicy nali nihari (curry stew) is a must.

Krystal Thompson Kang Kang Food Court $ $ $ $ Chinese in Alhambra $$$$ 104 N Garfield Ave 7.8 /10

Alhambra is home to some of the most well-known, iconic Chinese restaurants in LA - Kang Kang is not one of them. This tiny spot is much more of a cafeteria than an actual food court, but those details are irrelevant when the food is this good. The menu is large and covers a lot of ground, but your focus should be on the dumplings and beef roll. The fried bao is easily the most popular dish here (it’s on every table), and while it’s very good, we prefer the slightly sweet steamed crab and pork bao even more. Cash only.

Krystal Thompson FurnSaj Bakery $ $ $ $ Mediterranean , Middle Eastern in Granada Hills , Northridge $$$$ 11146 Balboa Blvd 8.2 /10

If you have to listen to your coworkers fight about their favorite shawarma spots again, you’re calling HR. Here’s our tip: Take them to Furn Saj, then watch them realize this family-run bakery in Granada Hills is way better than the places they were screaming about. The menu has over 70 items on it, but we recommend snagging one of their giant shawarma platters, then spending some time exploring their baked goods case. The saroukh (cheese, onion, and parsley-filled bread) is crunchy, savory, and just a little spicy, and you can wash it all down with some rice pudding at the end.

Jakob Layman The Old Place $ $ $ $ American , Steaks in Malibu $$$$ 29983 Mulholland Hwy 8.2 /10

The Old Place is one of LA’s most iconic restaurants, but due to their remote location up in the Santa Monica Mountains, many people haven’t even heard of them - let alone eaten there. That’s good news for you and the new guy you’re seeing who claims he’s eaten at every steakhouse on La Cienega. This historic saloon (it’s been standing since the late 1880s) feels like you stepped into the first level of Westworld, but instead of killer robots, expect good beer and wine, live music, and a steak that puts any on La Cienega to shame.

Jakob Layman I-Naba $ $ $ $ Japanese , Sushi in Manhattan Beach $$$$ 1300 Highland Ave #107 8.0 /10

You just matched with someone who has “sushi snob” in their bio, so you know you can’t go to Sugarfish until you’re exclusive. In the meantime, plan a date at Sushi I-Naba. The tiny spot in Manhattan Beach feels less like a sushi bar and more like a meeting of the Secret Society Of Sushi. The room is about the size of a toolshed, the BYOB policy is liberal - in part, we suspect, so you can share a drink with the chef - and the excellent fish on the menu isn’t just rare, it’s presented in a lacquered box that makes it feel like it’s part of an initiation rite.

Krystal Thompson Banadir Somali Restaurant $ $ $ $ Somali in Inglewood $$$$ 137 Arbor Vitae 8.3 /10

As you walk into Banadir Somali in Inglewood, you’ll realize quickly that you aren’t just eating at a restaurant, you’re experiencing life inside a bona fide community center, where everyone from the neighborhood congregates on a daily basis. The fact they’re also serving some of the best Somali food in LA is merely a reason to always show up hungry. Banadir has a super-small menu of breakfast and lunch/dinner options, but if you arrive around 11am, you’ll be able to order from both sides of the menu. Our favorite dishes are the goat and rice, ful (a hearty bean stew), and as much anjero - a slightly sweet, crepe-like bread - as we can get our hands on.

Jakob Layman Tokyo Hamburg $ $ $ $ Japanese , Bar Food in Koreatown $$$$ 600 S New Hampshire Ave. 8.0 /10

There is no shortage of fun group-dinner spots in Koreatown, but Tokyo Hamburg is one of our favorites - and certainly less known than the nearby KBBQ staples. This rowdy Japanese restaurant feels like a party from the moment you walk in - pop music blasting over the speakers, beer and sake being chugged at a Friday night pace (even if it’s Tuesday), and the smell of burger patties sizzling on individual stone grills. They’re basically a DIY smashburger situation, and though it seems a bit gimmicky, the meat itself is fantastic and exactly what you want to be putting into your body before a long night of drinking.

Jakob Layman Dialogue $ $ $ $ American , Experimental in Santa Monica $$$$ 1315 3rd Street Promenade 8.9 /10

Your co-worker Jeanine loves to talk about all of the pricey tasting menus she’s experienced across the globe, but when you mentioned Dialogue in Santa Monica, her face went blank. Despite the fact that they opened in 2017, Dialogue’s hidden location on The Third Street Promenade has kept the place somewhat mysterious. The tiny, bare-bones space isn’t particularly noteworthy and dinner for two here will set you back about $600. But if money’s not an issue tonight (is it ever for Jeanine?), this 20ish-course meal is surprisingly unpretentious and full of hyper-modern food that’s truly delicious.

Wolvesmouth $ $ $ $ Experimental $$$$ Los Feliz Blvd Not

Rated

Yet

This private supper club has been roaming around the Eastside since 2011, and though they’ve officially settled into a permanent residence in Los Feliz, it’s still very difficult to eat here. The best strategy to secure a dinner reservation is to stay informed via their mailing list and then proceed to bug them (via email) until space becomes available. There are only a few dinners each month, which involve a group of chefs freestyling a meal where seafood is the star of the menu. It’s also entirely BYOB, and the six-course, hyper-modern dinner is unlike anything you and your friends have experienced before.

Jakob Layman Cahuenga General Store $ $ $ $ Sandwiches in North Hollywood $$$$ 5510 Cahuenga Blvd 8.0 /10

Located on a stretch of North Hollywood generally reserved for car mechanics and acting studios, Cahuenga General Store feels stepping into another world. Or at the very least, the mid-1800s. The all-wood floors are old and creaky, there are chairs hanging from the ceiling, and there’s homemade soap on the shelves. It’s not until you spot the cash register in the back that you realize you’re still in modern-day LA - and at a coffee/sandwich shop. The 30-item menu can be a little overwhelming at first, but you’ll be happy as long as you order anything that involves the house-made pesto. If you hang out long enough, you’ll catch some live music on the stage in the corner.

Jakob Layman Otafuku Noodle House $ $ $ $ Japanese in Gardena $$$$ 16525 S Western Ave 8.1 /10

Otafuku is a family-run Japanese restaurant in Gardena that treats soba noodles like a science. The three kinds of soba served here vary in size, texture, and taste, but all are made daily in-house from flour that’s imported from Japan. Our favorite is usually the all-white seiro, but whatever you choose will be served cold on a bamboo plate with a tiny dish of garlic soy sauce for side-dipping. It’s light, refreshing, and unlike anything we’ve had in LA.

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/los-angeles/guides/where-to-eat-with-someone-whos-already-eaten-everywhere Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

Created February 22, 2020 at 12:38AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[SF] The Sun in your Eyes

Growing up on ground level had many perks, though sleeping wasn't one of them. Every breath of space beyond his curtains were full of loud things moving dangerously fast; and every moment outside his walls, a constant blur between night and day. He was told sunlight was bad for him, so he imagined it through a bedside device glowing ultraviolet in measured doses. Tossing and turning, the 10-year-old threw his pillow across the room and began texting.

A few thin walls away, Dr. Sharon Hearth sat at her desktop computer, reading up on the latest internet headlines. A physician with a passion for preventive medicine, she shared the common belief that the ozone layer was severely compromised despite 21st century reparations. She spent hours of her day squinting at computer monitors with eyes that appeared kind, but also very tired. Her husband was resting in bed just a few feet away.

A sudden noise prompted her to check a separate screen. It revealed a single emoji from her son, Sid. In response, she entered a series of numbers and an elaborate password.

Several rooms away, his consciousnesses came to an abrupt halt, a peaceful, paralyzing sleep.

Dr. Hearth swiped through several pages of data, relieved to see her child’s vitals were within range. She knew tomorrow was a big day for her only son, and like many physicians, she was an overprotective parent.

So she continued to adjust a network of grain-sized implants that monitored Sid’s eyes, brain, heart, and major arteries. Each biosensor soaked up a wealth of information, nestled deep in tissue layers, and intervening seldomly. Dr. Hearth fiddled with their settings tirelessly, deciding to sleep at 3 AM, and only out of necessity. She, like Sid, had them installed throughout her body, free of charge, being the lead designer of BioSand Solutions, Inc. She planted her head firmly into the pillow, stared at the ceiling for some time, selected six hours, then entered the same elaborate password into her smartphone…

Some time later, years later in fact, Sid woke up and got dressed. He slouched into the living room with a wrinkled dress shirt, black pants, and a backpack he rarely removed.

His father sat excitedly beside a vaguely familiar women. As he tried to recognize her, something within him stimulated an aversive sensation. The feeling compelled him to look away, then focus on something different. Sid suspected the cause, and though he had the option to adjust his biosensors, now, as a legal adult, it was not a top priority. Sid was still a teenager and responsibility did not appeal to him.

“Happy Birthday, young man!” his father exclaimed. “I hope you don’t mind Stella coming over. How are you feeling?”

“Not bad. I slept well, eventually,” Sid was pressing a hand against his eyes.

“Good! Speaking of which, I got ya something small,” his father said. Sid opened his hands to some sort of case, a small curved box. It was jet black and had a familiar felt texture. He suspected what they were, but decided to keep the container closed. “I want you to wear them today. It will be a popular conversation starter. A symbol of the new Sid, a symbol of your vision quest,” his father joked.

“Where did you find these?” Sid asked, rarely understanding him these days.

“Oh, I have my sources,” his father said, clearly winking. “They were Mom’s.” Sid opened his eyes halfway, hugged his father, and sleepily exited the apartment.

His mother, Dr. Sharon Hearth, had passed away just eight years ago.

Sid walked long through a mosaiced cityscape, a hot mess of eroded cement and steel.

In the middle was a tower that extended endlessly, piercing a dark, dirt-colored sky. The city resembled a coastless Dubai, though in this American version, its towering Burj displayed outworn neon lettering, glowing eerily from miles away. Valley of the Sun Hospital, the tower read hazily from top to bottom, and Sid appreciated it. For the first time in years, he walked the sidewalk since the sun was still below the mountains.

Walking inside the tower, Sid admired a lobby decorated in the strangest and most beautiful way. Each windowless wall was lined by an interconnecting aquarium, sheltering a community of rare aquatic creatures, and filling the cafeteria with a therapeutic blue light.

Sid found Celeste sitting at a high table, across from one of the swimming animals. It was covered in some type of cartilage, and had to be at least a hundred pounds.

Sid sat with Celeste for about ten minutes, amused by the shelled thing behind thick glass, and exchanging glances with her healthcare aid. His uniform revealed the unusual name Lark Bohem, and since Sid’s arrival, he had been observing their every move. Lark appeared new and had an adolescent build similar to his own, but much older. Sharing a prolonged silence, Sid, Celeste, and Mr. Bohem reflected on why they were there.

Celeste had been in and out of the hospital for some time. Her story of addiction was unexpected, but not unusual. Like many, it started as a passionate curiosity, darkening over time, and causing physical changes. Her skin had a scabby, slightly charred look, and a thick bandage stretched across her face. She was recovering from her first serious intervention: a fresh, bilateral, whole-eye transplant. Sid noticed reddish stains occupying the space of her new eyes and wanted to ask her about it. However, his biosensors identified stressful cardiovascular trends, compelling him to look away, towards an even uneasier Mr. Bohem.

Unsurprisingly, it was he, the most nervous one, who broke the silence. “I’ve been told that thing over there is called a turtle. Some of them don’t age, you know. I believe it’s called negligible senescence or something. That’s actually why they’re here. For research, hope, amusement, who knows. Who really knows anything anymore?” Lark turned his back to them as he spoke, getting more uneasy until he finally stood up. His face in profile looked like a scared animal, waiting in awe for something inevitable. Like him, his voice was thin and harsh.

Celeste reached her hand towards the man’s empty chair, feeling a thin jacket draped over the seat. It looked professional and sported the hospital logo, a single flowering cactus. Celeste grabbed it and crumpled it into her lap. She too wanted to speak now that Mr. Bohem was occupied. “I agree. Life is weird,” she mumbled, throwing the coat toward Sid. He was on on the verge of saying something, but Celeste continued without a pause. “You know, the way we define it. Just think of the Sun. It gives all the light and warmth we need, the source of all life, yet somehow the it isn’t considered alive. Glowing from like millions of miles away, asking for nothing in return, it has less life than a turtle.” She whispered clearly and directly toward Sid.

“We’re going upstairs.”

Lark remained oblivious, texting on his phone and leaning against thick aquarium walls, so Sid stuffed the jacket into his bag. He then walked directly toward Lark, pretending to watch the callused “turtle” up close. For the first time, he noticed a deep, bulging scar that ran across its belly. “You notice that?” Sid asked. Through the glass reflection, he could see Lark’s expression was emotionally silent. The man was more observant than Sid expected, but he didn’t attempt to retake the jacket. Instead, he handed over a long metal key.

“You got anything to put over her eyes?” Lark asked.

“Yeah, I think I do.” Sid replied, searching for the new gift.”

“Today is not a bad day to get out of here. It’s about to get real interesting,”

Sid wanted to understand, but something forced his caution aside. He threw the jacket on and tossed the keyed lanyard around his neck. He wasn’t sure what to say to Celeste, so he just grabbed her hand and forced it on him. She recognized the jacket’s soft, synthetic material and smiled. Sid removed the felt container from his bag, carefully handling the shaded eyeglasses and dropping them on Celeste’s face.

Celeste violently shook her head. “We need to go upstairs,” she again whispered clearly and directly, but with slightly more intensity. Taking the hint, Sid took the shades back and wore them himself, adopting the disguise of a new hospital employee, one with funny 20th century delusions of style. After all, he was the son of a famous physician and didn’t want to be recognized. Celeste shifted her body onto the wheelchair and pointed to the nearest elevator. Pushing her inside the empty platform, a faint, distant commotion could be heard, but the automatic doors were already closing.

For twenty minutes, they stood and sat in silence as the elevator ascended. Sid wondered if Celeste should know about his interaction with Mr. Bohem. He thought maybe it was best not to tell Celeste. Perhaps, Sid contemplated, today was fated to follow the same course of this elevator. He daydreamed for what felt like an hour, anxiety building with each floor, until a jarring alarm returned him to reality.

Just as Sid started to panic, the elevator doors inched apart, revealing a vast geriatric floor. Windowless walls lined the perimeter, compartmentalized with clear, thick glass to form hundreds, perhaps thousands of patient rooms. At centerstage, Sid saw a single nurse sitting on a swivel chair surrounded by computer monitors. She was working quietly, alone, and hiding just within sight. Sid pushed Celeste slowly onto the floor, doubtful his disguise would help much.

“Hello there, and who are you?” The nurse asked.

“Hello there!” Sid responded. “The elevator stalled. I was transporting my patient back to her room, but now I’m stuck here. It’s been a crazy day!” Sid attempted to play his role confidently, but the nurse appeared uninterested for at least 30 seconds.

“I guess we’re having some issues with the solar generator. I’ll make a phone call as soon as I finish up. Feel free to join Miguel for now.”

She pointed to an enclosed area with several couches and a mysterious seated figure wearing a silver bodysuit. The mesh fabric followed his every move like an iron, form-fitting shield, running down his torso, arms, and legs. Adding significant bulk to his frame, it extended up his neck into a dense, round helmet. Only his placid eyes and sickly pale nose appeared unassisted. Looking up from a plate of gelatinous eggs, Miguel was the first person to question Sid’s appearance.

“Do you know why people wear sunglasses?” He asked.

Sid had never heard the word “sunglasses” before, and genuinely had no idea they had any sort of function. He assumed them to be one of those weird accessories, or in his case, a way to obscure your identity. “Because they look cool,” he said, feeling stupid.

“Exactly young man! They make you appear less vulnerable. The eyes are the window to the soul, but the soul is fragile, emotional. Some dare to say it doesn’t exist at all. So you cover them up, and in doing so, you become invulnerable.”

Sid and Celeste nodded in agreement. The older man had an animated, almost intimidating way about him. He stood up very tall and began pacing in circles. Celeste sat in her wheelchair silently, but appeared to be listening.

“Now consider this for a moment. Vulnerability binds people together, gives them meaning, a feeling of comfort and trust. So what would happen if everyone wore sunglasses? What if blue eyes, green eyes, scared eyes, and loving eyes, were no longer a thing?” After a long pause, Sid murmured unconfidently.

“We wouldn’t trust each other?”

“Yes, perhaps, young man. For a time, it would be strange. Then, after the initial shock, we would focus on some other vulnerability, some other window to the soul, like their lips, their breathing, the way they stand, the way they move their arms, the way they choose their words, or the way they don’t. One might say there is only one way to eliminate vulnerability.”

“To not perceive at all,” Celeste said, coming alive for the first time in a while.

“That is exactly right young lady, and wouldn't that leave us quite vulnerable?” Celeste nodded. “As long as we observe, we will always perceive vulnerability, and as long as we perceive vulnerability, we will always try to fix it, and as long as we succeed, we will always find more.”

There was a long moment of silence as Sid, Celeste, and Miguel waited for the next person to talk. Somewhere, waiting in that moment, Sid realized who Miguel was. He was the one and only, Miguel Díaz de Vivar. He was among the first million people that agreed to biomonitoring. After countless decades of impeccable, ascetic discipline, a team of physicians declared him the healthiest centenarian on the planet. As a reward, he was gifted the most sophisticated medical device of the 21st century. Sid felt star-struck and confused, chiming in desperately and messily.

“True! It’s like that expression, umm you know. If you tell someone to not think of some animal, then you will only think of that animal. You know? Like, if you try not to think of something, it never works. Shoot, which animal is it?” Sid instantly regretted attempting to talk, but Miguel did not seem to care.

“Hmmm, interesting comparison. I think I got you young man.”

Miguel raised both eyebrows, then squeezed them tightly, trying to remember. His eyelids closed, and the helmet attached to his skull started to make a dull humming noise. It was scanning his brain for for a recognizable pattern of brain activity. After ten seconds, a match was located from a database of previously stored word-search attempts, and the world “elephant” was produced in a dull synthetic voice emanating from Miguel’s forehead. It wasn’t the answer Sid expected, nor did he have any clue what an elephant was, so he quickly changed the subject.

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?”

“Wise question, young man. I guess you could say I’ve spent my whole life preserving life to the fullest, yet in old age I have never felt more vulnerable, and it is this paradoxical vulnerability that protects me, and gives me more strength than I’ve ever known. You see?” Miguel flexed his exoskeletal biceps. He then pulled a chair next to Celeste, looking at her with blue eyes, now more earnest than ever. “Why are you here, young lady?” he asked. It was a fairly obvious diagnosis, but she answered just as sincerely.

“I went outside the city, during the day,” she said. “I always wanted to see the desert, the mountains, the canyons, even the sand was beautiful. When it was noon, I finally looked up, and there it was, so warm, primal, enlightening.” Sid rolled his eyes slightly. She was starting to sound like his mom, hiding behind poetic wordplay and puns. “I knew it was dangerous, but I made the choice deliberately. Since the day I was born, I always wanted feel the Sun.” Celeste smiled and whispered into Miguel’s auditory transducer. The nurse was nowhere to be seen, and Miguel whispered back into her ear. Sid wondered what they could possibly be talking about.

Miguel stood up again, lifting Celeste’s wheelchair well above his shoulders. “May I... borrow your sunglasses?” Miguel asked. Sid handed them to him with some hesitation. “Follow me, young man.” The old man sprinted into a dark stairwell, leaping up a hundred stories without effort, carrying the wheelchair like a rickshaw.

By the time Sid crawled to the top floor, Celeste was resting contently, illuminated by a single beam of light. It originated from a man-sized hole in the ceiling. On the other side, tunneling straight through the roof, Sid could see the source of the blinding light. He looked at it curiously until his biosensors compelled him to look away. Miguel was nowhere to be seen, so Sid swiped his key and pushed Celeste out of the stairwell.

There was a sense of chaos as nurses ran laps back and forth, rushing to the beat of a flashing alarm. Some were driving hospital beds carrying unresponsive patients, while others were holding what appeared to be moist, pink blobs wrapped in hospital sheets. A few steps away there was a single frightened turtle stuck on its back, legs flailing limply. Just as he slid the animal to a safer position, turning it upright, a nurse noticed them and yelled.

“Do you see what’s going on here? We can’t accept admissions!”

Sid “What happened?”

Another random staff member spoke up. “The backup generators have diverted power away from the NPVs. Some of them have been salvaged, but the rest are running on low battery.” The nurse practitioner pointed to a heavy door that read Neuro Preservation Vats.

Celeste jumped out of her wheelchair, looking back to Sid for a moment, and swiftly proceeding to the door. In one graceful motion of her body, she ripped the bandage off her face and peered inside, tiptoeing within just as gracefully. Sid hesitated for a moment then followed, shutting the door behind.

Inside, Celeste was standing in front of a transparent, fish-tank-sized container. Within it was a truly surreal sight, sinking in slowly, inching toward Sid's perception over several seconds. It was unmistakably a human brain floating peacefully, tethered by a tangled mess of catheters. The vat displayed three numbers: oxygen saturation, perfusion rate, and internal pressure. It beeped at a constant, regular rate. A series of labels were attached with nearly illegible text.

Hearth, Sharon. V.I.P.

PATIENT ID: 2342398732434353453887

Zoological implantation declined.

Cryogenic preservation declined.

Viable organs donated. Eyes donated.

Wireless biosensors in situ.

Sid walked past his mother, beyond many rows of empty vats. He leaned against the far wall, sliding his back down against it, squatting on the floor with his elbows to his knees, hands pressed against his eyes. Celeste followed him to the corner and sat beside him, her hand touching his lightly. Her new eyes were adjusting to the light well. They looked very different, but also very familiar, very kind, but also very tired. As their tearful eyes met, he could hear the vat beeping at a much faster rate, numbers spiking upwards. Dr. Sharon Hearth knew today was an important day for her only son, and she, like many physicians, was a loving parent. Sid kissed Celeste on the forehead and walked out of the room.

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