She marched across to her walk-in wardrobe and ran a hand through the many gowns the handlers had brought along for the gala. She was tempted to wear a long brown cloak, white shirt and trousers, like her old self. Her lips twitched and she chuckled, thinking of her former outfit. She wondered if the aliens would comment on it. She should wear it as a parody, be the insensitive, attention-seeking actor.

  No. She would play clueless, glowing from the performance of a lifetime. Her hand rested on a simple black gown with a high collar that would accentuate her long neck. She’d sweep her hair into a high up-do, scraping the sides and back up until it tumbled into a stylish tuft at the top, like her old hairstyle. She glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror and winked. Her once rich chestnut hair had turned platinum and fell in dramatic waves down her shoulders. Then she squinted, prodding and pushing up the sagging and defined laugh lines on either cheek, and grunted.

  No wonder the Aakehollats couldn’t see me kill them—they didn’t recognise me. I don’t even recognise me.

  Snorting, she turned away from the mirror and stalked to the wide balcony, grabbing a glass of champagne on the way. The panoramic view of New Cape greeted her; the darkening skies, splashed with orange and red, offered another magnificent sunset. Picture perfect as always. She took a sip of the bubbly beverage, letting it tickle its way down her throat. She chuckled again, thinking how this was one thing that had remained throughout the generations. Wine and champagne, spirits, fermented grains and fruits. Despite it all, humans always kept some things alive. The aliens could never take that away. Fires and toxic soils had hindered the production, but people had still made alcoholic beverages with what they had.

  She took another sip, and lifted the glass to catch the light of the sunset. The fine bubbles made a frenzied race to the top; the tart goodness glowed gold against the light. How many times had she seen this moment? How long had she known this was the right time, when it would all end? And now, here she was, in actual, linear time, living it. She’d seen many things many times, done horrible things and great things, spread lies as truth. All to save humanity, to achieve her goals so she’d be standing here, right now, at the right moment for the final act.

  She’d witnessed the Revelation of the Truth, five years after Morrant’s unexplained death and Ziman’s atrocious execution by the bishops. People had been shocked, appalled, and disillusioned. The truth had been hard to grasp, but the deaths of two respected scientists had solidified the fact: the bishops were evil, corrupt and bad to the core. They did not represent the true doctrines of the Sibyl. After the uprising, the bishops were ousted, and those who resisted were brutally executed. The reclamation of humanity had been ruthless, but necessary. First Bishop Zhao, despite her protests and steadfastness regarding the Collective, was vented out into space by a mob.

  Citizens became divided between those who still believed the teachings of the Sibyl, and those who did not. The station guards became the new authority, but were soon overthrown. The mob became the law. Unlike when Esme was young, fleeing Madrid, this mob was led by those who revered the Sibyl’s basic teachings. They established the stations in space as a stronghold to keep the Sibyl’s light burning, while others formed a militia and headed for Earth, intent on eradicating the Aakehollats. Those in the militia had never taken to the Sibyl’s teachings—or rather, the bishops’. Declaring themselves the true first citizens of Earth, they waged all-out war on the aliens. It was a bloody, messy process for both humans and aliens, but an uneven fight.

  The Aakehollats were blindsided by the attack from the humans, especially after they’d spent generations instilling fear in them. They were butchered and maimed, but they didn’t die. They only reformed again, unscathed. This horrified people, because how could they win a war when their opponent wouldn’t die. They fell back on the Sibyl’s words, her true words, and what she’d written in the journal. The elected leaders of the militia did what young Esme had wanted; opened talks with the Aakehollats so a truce could be established. How else could you win when your opponent couldn’t die?

  Eventually, group leaders from Earth and Sibyl devotees in space were elected on both sides. They agreed that, as humans, they should form a united front. The beginnings of a new era of human history began—one in which they led themselves, undivided and strong. But it took a long time before people were finally ready to return to Earth to live and rebuild. A majority stayed in space, as it had been their home for many generations. The Aakehollats, agreeing to pull back, left humanity free to choose the course of their lives. They left one behind to act as an aide and ambassador. The humans agreed, but they didn’t offer an ambassador in return.

  For generations, humanity grew steadily. They learned how to live on a planet, repopulated it, built homes, cultivated the lands, fought in civil unrest, squabbled over land rights. Then, at last, came a plateau of calm. A calm that would last many, many centuries.

  Everything had gone exactly as Esme had planned. Everything. All the planning, the tactics, the actions spread out over time. Multiple drops into different timelines, the remembering, the rehearsing, enacting, over and over until she got it right, had paid off. This was the end game now. And she would not fail. She had seen it would work.

  It was time. The grand finale.

  * * *

  Esme Serrano.

  Uncharted Dimension — Date Unknown.

  “We cannot decide if we can trust you,” Female said. “You are hiding something from us.”

  Esme smiled. She’d lost track of how many times the alien had said that, of how many times this moment was repeated.

  * * *

  Esme Serrano.

  New Cape, UAME.

  July 02, 12631.

  Gala Dinner.

  Esme stared at the Aakehollats ambassador. Female remained the same. They always did. And they all knew her as if they had interacted with her. Like a collective, one was all, and all were one. Whatever they were, she repressed a sneer. They were nothing more than disgusting, murdering spores, popping up and multiplying, identical in shape and form, right down to their evil designs.

  She was an actor; she’d always been one. But now it was time for her final performance—the greatest one ever—and she would give it her all. Straightening to her full height—and in her stiletto heels she towered over many—she smoothed the back of her head. It was an old habit from when she’d had her head shaved. Would the Aakehollats recognise the gesture? Of course they would. Maybe they gloated, knowing those whose memories had been altered remained clueless and only showed latent, deep-seated quirks and habits unique to them.

  Female, dressed the same as always in a hooded brown cloak, turned to face her. Female’s emotionless face gave nothing away. With a feigned jerk of surprise, Esme grinned and made eye contact. She gave the alien ambassador a gracious nod and made her way towards it. All eyes followed her progress as she swayed towards the alien. After all, she was Maestra Sieran Farr, and she was making her entrance.

  “Ambassador Aakehollats.” Esme greeted Female, speaking Universal English without a hint of her old accent. She extended both arms, palms down, and waggled her fingers in invitation. With a delayed response, the alien reached out to accept her hands. Esme clutched them in a firm grip, repulsed again by their clammy coolness. “Despite the atrocities of the past, it is such a great honour and pleasure to finally meet you,” she gushed, drawing those cool, pale hands to her bosom. She wanted to kiss them to ensure full contact with bodily fluids was exchanged. Instead, she forced out a few tears and pulled Female in for an embrace. A murmur of surprise rose from around them. Most would never consider touching the alien.

  Esme’s wet cheeks touched the Aakehollats’ unnaturally cool ones. She pulled away. “I’m sorry. I know it’s considered inappropriate but I can’t help it. I love to hug people.” She sniffed dramatically and sighed, making sure her breath engulfed the alien.

  “We are honoured to be in the presence of such accepting gratitude.” The bland response from the alien triggered Esme’s anger like a match striking the flint. “It was not long ago that we were met with open hostility. And then we were experimented upon. The atrocities, as it was explained to us, were equally dispensed.”

  Esme waved her arm. “Bygones. We’ve all come such a long way, and learned much from each other. The Sibyl wanted it so. Of course, we are grateful. And playing the role of Doctor Morrant, on that momentous day of discovery, has been an immense pleasure. I’m honoured beyond words.”

  She may have played Morrant’s death scene minus the Aakehollats’ assassin, but she knew. They were responsible for Morrant’s murder, just as they were for countless others. She knew the truth.

  “Oh!” Esme gasped, and suppressed a dramatic moue of sadness. “Her death was so tragic. I’m sure many have asked if you had, or were able to…hmm, step back in time to discover the secret to her death.”

  “They have. But we have not been able to see it with any clarity. We cannot always maintain a precise time and location of events.”

  Liars! “Ah. Such a shame. A great and tragic mystery.” Esme shook her head. “I’m sure you must’ve felt terrible to discover that she was one of the Sibyl’s descendants?”

  “We did not know she had procreated. Again, we cannot always maintain a precise—”

  Whatever. “Well, she kept it a secret. Her journal said so. She hated you all. Sorry.” Esme winced for effect. “How did that make you feel?”

  Female blinked as if derailed. “We have always known her hatred towards us. She has blamed us for what happened to her family. But, based on our knowledge of the future events, we knew she would become a great leader, which she did. So we allowed her to continue with her hatred. We believe it was the motivation that drove her to become a successful leader.”

  “But you were responsible…for what had happened. Who wouldn’t be angry if they’d found out?”

  “As we had explained many times before, it was a necessary intervention in order to save your planet.”

  Esme placed the tip of a finger over her mouth, spreading her lips to chew her nail. She then clicked her tongue. “But…she used you. I mean, I can’t say I blame her. You do understand, we’re humans. You’re, well…not.”

  “We understand now. We have reached an understanding also, with your representatives, of how our interventions may not have always been the wisest choice. We have had many discussions regarding this, as I am sure you have learned from your news outlets for many centuries and—”

  “Have you seen it?” Esme gushed suddenly. “The show? Is it accurately portrayed?”

  Female paused. “We have not seen your portrayal live. We are unable to immerse on your devices. But we have seen the recorded version. It is quite accurate, and your performance is uncannily precise. You have a true talent that you should be proud of.”

  “Thank you,” Esme beamed. “It’s like I was born with it. I feel a kinship with Morrant, as if I know her. As if she’s a part of me. It’s hard to explain.” Oh, how she wanted to blurt it out, rub their faces in it. If only they knew! Esme laughed inwardly. Her con was all coming together now. “I always wanted to be an actor, did you know? I’m sure you’ve seen all my interviews. It was my dream. And look where I am now.” She smiled and shook her head, a frown tightening her brow. “You know, this might sound terribly odd, but after playing the role of Morrant, it’s like…I’m not sure. You seem very familiar.” Esme laughed with a shrug, making sure to lean forward so her breath reached the alien. “It may only be echoes from being immersed for so long—it gave me such a headache too.”

  Female stared at her, impassive. Only a resemblance of a smile tweaked the corners of its mouth.

  “Well,” Esme said airily, her attention drifting to others in the crowded room. “I’m glad to have met you in person.” She wiped away a tear, then took its hand in hers once more, giving it final squeeze. “Now, I must mingle around. Goodbye.”

  Female nodded once. After a moment, Female vanished, then reappeared elsewhere in the room, much to the surprise and awe of the guests. Since most were aware of the alien’s abilities, they soon resumed their conversations as if nothing extraordinary had happened. Knowing the Aakehollats, it probably wasn’t the same Female Esme had spoken to moments ago, but that didn’t matter, since they would all share the experience. And Esme knew each time an alien vanished, it would reconnect with their own, back in that white room. The hub, the nest, the nucleus. And spread the virus to the others. When she’d been in that room, she’d witnessed the results of what she’d just done. Time didn’t exist there, so days, years or an eternity could pass before Female decided to re-join the current timeline—ample opportunity for any germ to spread and infiltrate. Throughout the evening, Female flitted from one area to the next. Not many engaged with it except for formality’s sake, so it stood alone, watching the evening’s proceedings. Esme ignored it entirely, engrossed and basking in the adoration others showered on her. Just as it had been when she was the Sibyl. She didn’t miss the hilarity of it all.

  She and Matteo remained the centre of attention, their time gobbled up by numerous media interviews, other production crews attempting to woo them over to their projects, photo ops with invited guest, and even time to dance to music and have fun. For the first time in all her memories or awareness since the enforced darkness, she let loose and had fun. Esme made a point of drinking it all in—one last night, a cathartic last-blast of revelry before the end. But throughout it all, Female remained firmly wedged in Esme’s awareness and pinging her radar. What she’d done to it spurred her on in her gaiety.

  As the gala wore on, she noticed a slight list in the alien’s posture. Watching surreptitiously, Esme smiled. It seemed to also have trouble speaking, slurring and mixing its words up entirely. This was when, in that white room, the aliens had started to panic. Malfunctioning and disorganised, they were trying to heal themselves by joining with each other. They were ignorant, as that particular action facilitated the spread of the virus. Then the moment would change, and she was back travelling through time, seeking new avenues, or in conversation again with Female. All muddled and merged, out of sequence and disjointed, but she’d kept her mind attuned and clear to make sense of it all. It was happening, it had happened.

  By the time speeches were made and the music elevated, Female was in definite distress. It stumbled and, instead of vanishing, flitted as if frozen in static. Parts of its human body form began to deform. People noticed now, and gave the alien a wide berth. At last it fell, its form becoming gelatinous—melting, seeping away as it bubbled into putrid colours. The stench was unbearably coarse, like burning plastic and hair. Esme rushed to its side, crouching down. To others, she appeared a concerned and caring person, but to Female she showed her old self. She made direct eye contact, knowing it couldn’t return to that white room.

  “I remember everything,” Esme whispered, staring at the disintegrating alien. It trembled as its fabricated eyes widened and riveted on her. Its mouth gaped and closed, bubbles formed instead of words. “I remember it all. You’re dying a death you couldn’t see the cause of, but knew of. I am the one who has killed you. It was always me, and you were blind to it. I have always wanted you dead. Always. Every last one of you will die. I am your extinction.” With a sneer, Esme grinned as the alien dissolved completely. Nothing but an ugly, puce-like stain remained on the shiny banquet floor. “Goodbye, forever.”

  With a jerk, Esme stood and backed away. “Oh! It’s…it’s dead. Oh, how horrible!” Her hand clamped over her mouth, covering a smile, like the one she had hidden while in that white room. She turned away as if to hide from the sight, her body shaking, eyes closed tight to staunch tears. But she was laughing, restraining a hysterical guffaw with her hand lest she screamed in unabashed peals of laughter.

  It was finally over.

  Now she could die in peace.

  Prologue-Epilogue

  7 billion years before-after.

  Awareness charged through the entity, a radiant surge of light as the red giant pulsed and spasmed to its death. A cooling whiteness followed, sharp and agonising, making the entity tremble in ecstasy. Had it a voice, it would’ve screamed in thrall. A multitude of sensations rippled over it and, like a spasm, the moment of rapture dissipated as soon as it had begun.

  A stagnant coldness engulfed it, lasting untold moments. It grew larger, doubling, tripling, as large as a grain of sand, its awareness…accumulating, becoming more acute—its memory reforming from its core. Something incredible had occurred, in fact. From the moment of awareness, the instant the incredible heat had occurred, then cooled, it had come: a surge of sheer brilliance—euphoric and consuming—exhilarating. Existence! The entity understood what it was to exist, to experience the actual act of existence from a molecular level. To remember it each time it happened made the experience even greater. Deserved.

  Addictive!

  It had been young once, new and frail, a blank slate—and scared, unable to act, to understand. Until, like a spark, it had become ancient, steeped with countless experiences and abounding with knowledge, replete. The entity had always sensed the vast and timeless universe, cyclic and endless. A multitude of universes, actually, with pathways twisting and looping together, each filled with so many experiences and layers. Each time, ending to begin again—beginning and ending, the moment of awareness, new then ancient, and of complete obliteration—over and over for eternity. With each occurrence, beautiful and excruciating, the heat searing and purgative, agonising, and the cooling, bracing, restorative and pure, euphoric. It wanted more, to be alive again and again. But each occurrence would last nanoseconds, fleeting, brief—gone before it could be savoured to satisfaction. It wanted more, again, over and over…

 

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