WHERE DREAMS AND REALITY TWIST AND TURN.
WHERE WORLDS INTERLOCK INTO FINE STRUCTURES.
WHERE IT WAS MADE TO CREATE A WORLD FINE FOR ALL.
WHERE THE FINE TRAJECTORY OF WHAT WAS KNOWN AS MAN’S WORLD WOULD NOW BE KNOWN AS A DREAMER’S PARADISE.
WHERE THE LOST ONES ARE NEVER GONE.
WHERE THE ONES WITH US ARE NO LONGER ETERNALLY LONGING.
FOR THE WORLD IS ALL YOU COULD ASK FOR.
WHERE THE GOLDEN DISC IN THE SKY ROTATES.
WHERE IT SHALL REIGN OVER THE NEW WORLD.
HOWEVER, WE HAVE FAILED TO HARNESS ITS FULL POTENTIAL.
IT HAS GAINED SENTIENCE.
IT SHALL PIERCE THE HEAVENS ABOVE.
WHAT WAS HUMANITY IS NOW MERELY A PASSAGE OF TIME ITSELF.
I LEAVE THE REST TO YOU,
TO STOP MY CHILD.
(The signature cannot be read)

“Oi granny, whatcha want for dinner tonight?”, he asked.

Meet my friend, Lucas. It is probably the first occurrence in history where a friend calls the other “granny”. Yes, I am 60 years older than him. No, I did not meet him a few years back, nor is he a nurse taking care of me as I eventually become senile. We have actually known each other since second grade.

Lucas was a quiet boy in class, not athletic nor upfront. Wearing a thick pair of glasses, you would assume he’s a smart one, except his looks contradicted what he was: a dumbass. While I never got anything less than a B, Lucas broke the school’s record for consecutive 50s, barely passing. In one of the many stupid group activities they made us do, we were asked to write about our dreams. I wrote whatever, but Lucas had other things in mind.

“So you want to be an engineer, huh? You barely pass your classes”, our English teacher Mr. Davies scoffed at Lucas.
“I know, but I will be one!”, he said with a shameless smile.

Honestly, his lack of self-awareness amazed me. So much so that it always felt like Lucas would take the most unpredictable direction. In a way, I could predict the variance in this dude.

Such a case was when he was drenched in mud after a fistfight with one of the seniors. Apparently, he saw them tearing off pages from books in the library and as a teen who barely weighed 90 pounds, he thought it was his responsibility to provoke two Goliaths. Beaten to a pulp, of course, I could see the neat, tidy Lucas coming back all messed up. When I saw him coming back to class in the hallway, I couldn’t help but laugh at him. So much so that Lucas was amused too.

“I have never seen such an uglier laugh in my life”, he said.
“And I have never seen an uglier uniform in my life”, I replied.

I think this was the first time Lucas ever smiled from the heart. Not only that, but he started laughing. That was the moment when we became friends. Every summer, we would go to each other’s house now and then. He used to be shorter than me so I would often crack jokes at him. Of course, he outgrew me in middle school but he still, unfortunately, remained a wimp.

We even went to the same high school, often studying together at the library. He didn’t change, remaining the same wimp I grew up with. He once asked out two of my best friends and instantly got rejected. He tried to debate as a representative of our school. That year, our school lost our 10-year streak of qualifying for nationals in debate.

Although a loser, he was never too sore about it. Lucas would bounce back every time and each time go on a fiasco of how he’s going to change. Of course, he never did, but he was always a kind friend to me. He did cry a lot, often about those very girls. Worst of all, he could never see what he had in hindsight, but I digress. I still stuck around him and beyond his dimwitted brain, he had a heart, something all the guys I met years ago never had. Not that they were not great people, they just were not the same as Lucas.

“Wanna go to prom together?”, I popped the question as we were en route to our neighborhood.
“With me, Lucas Memoria? You’re kidding me.”, he responded.

Senior prom was closing in and let’s just say I didn’t want to miss it. But then Lucas probably wouldn’t be there (he avoided huge crowds) and not having him there would’ve been a drag. I swallowed my pride and decided to ask him myself as he would never.

“Well, sure. Why the hell not”, he responded without looking at me. He had this habit of never looking at people as he spoke.

Relieved that the guy was not running off again, we parted ways as we approached my house.

I wish I never opened the door that day. If possible, I wish I never went back home that day. My father told me something that I recall every single day.

“Pack your bags, I want you to leave this place as soon as possible. We have to leave”, he said. My father’s eyes always gleamed with warmth, but that day those eyes lacked any life to them.

In my country, there was always a conflict between the Northeast and the Southeast regions. We lived in the more mundane central zone where people lived a simpler life. But then, it got worse to a point where even the central part of the country would witness riots between the two. To make things worse, TempFinite, a corporation, got involved by announcing their expansion to the Northeastern side. On paper, they are a household electricity provider. However, according to the intel my father got, they were designing something far more sinister and they allied themselves to the richer and violent Northeast. Since he worked for intelligence, he had reliable information. What they were designing was known as “Factory 7”, an unknown warehouse that was classified as a Code Red and a danger to national security. Years later, I can tell you that it was indeed very real, and that this abomination shifted the dynamic in my life for good.

I had no choice. My mother rushed me to my bedroom with an empty suitcase and told me to pack it right away.

“Pack simple clothes. Don’t take anything that designates you as a “Central”. Also, burn your phone right away”, she said as she kept wiping her hair with a towel.

“Wait, what?”

“We have no choice. We have to outrun them as soon as possible.”, my father interjected.

I argued with them, but to no avail. Plus, I could not deny the gravity getting to me either. I was just a teenager in high school, what else could I do?

“Can I at least go and tell Lucas?

I have seen my father smile, get annoyed, fool around, and even cry every time he watched movies about dogs. But mentioning Lucas’ name brought an emotion to his face that I can not correctly describe. He adored Lucas because Lucas’ father left them long ago. Seeing his never-ending attempts to impress the crowd around him, my father always believed in him.

“I am so sorry sweetie. We have to leave him behind”, he tried comforting me at he held my shoulders.

What happened the next few days is a blur in my old brain. All I remember is crying on the flight and not eating for days on end. All I could think was about leaving everyone behind without leaving a trace. Once we arrived in the new town, the worst followed suit. Our town was ravaged by a sudden escalation by the two sides. Of all places, the little town I lived my whole life in was now a place of no return. I still remember the headline vividly, however:

200 dead. 87 heavily wounded.

The war was tipped to an end. The Southeast surrendered and the Northeast established a new system under which TempFinite took into establishing dominance as the new leader of “freedom”. Soon enough, every country recognized them as a legal entity. All that sucking up really paid off for them, I guess. The hilarious part was that they did not care to rewrite their involvement in history, saying they accept the truth for what it is: they killed thousands of innocents. Yes, the newspaper lied.

Lucas’ name was nowhere to ever be found. Rumor has it, that Factory 7 was deployed and it vaporized countless lives. To tell you the truth, to this date there is no evidence it was fired although TempFinite did admit to using it only to demolish it for its “pure evil” capabilities.

I wonder, was he scared when it happened? Was he in pain? Or did it all happen in a split-second?

Decades later, I moved back there. By then, a future reminiscent of those steampunk shows I watched came to fruition, a lot like Kowloon. No longer a town, it was now turned into a city that did not care about the division between the rich and poor. As for me, I quit my job as a journalist and never got married either. My mother and father both passed away in my 30s and my younger sister was living a life of a socialite. My presence apparently “stunk” and I simply wasn’t proper to be around them. Like I would give a shit anymore at that point. She stuck to her snob life in paradise, while I went back to perdition, where it all started. This time, however, there was no Lucas.

It was during my 75th year in this mortal realm that I stopped feeling like I could pull my punches anymore. As an old lady nearing her death every second, I started to live my days as a recluse in a city full of hovering cars and neon lights. I lived in the only wooden house in the city, near a garbage alley. This was the exact home we all left in a rush.

This is where the story takes a turn. Believe me, I thought I had seen it all until one night, I heard something crashing into the front yard. I rushed there with a cane in my hand, fearing it to be a rabid raccoon but no, I see a boy wearing a blue blazer face lying flat on the ground, bleeding. Hesitant, I moved close to the boy only to see him struggle to get up. He turned to my direction and lo and behold, it was Lucas.

There is not much to say about our sudden encounter other than the fact that he was somehow still alive at the age of 18. Somehow, Lucas leaped through time and made it all the way here; 50 years into the future. Due to his injuries, I did my best to treat him, fearing that if I took him to a hospital, he would be taken away from me again. Fortunately, they weren’t critical a minor scrapes.

Although conscious, Lucas didn’t speak a word, something I found peculiar about him. Then again, he probably could not recognize me. Old and grey, I lost my beautiful scarlet hair long ago. Even my face is now no longer recognizable (thanks to all the drugs I took). Yet, I see Lucas who still looks exactly the same as I last saw him.

“What is your name?”

Lucas stared at me for a while before quietly mumbling it out.

“Lucas. Lucas Memoria.”

I couldn’t help it. I broke down in tears as I hugged him. I revealed who I was to Lucas which left him perplexed. To Lucas, all he could remember was going back to his home and that’s it. No fancy weapon of mass destruction. Nothing. It’s almost like nothing ever happened.

Soon enough, he started worked as a nurse who took care of me. He lived in the guest room where we used to have my relatives around. Having Lucas around was a great help, no longer needing to munch on porridge every now and then but rather freshly cooked meals. I cannot recall him being such a fine cook, but I guess I have indeed gotten old. He helped with the plants too, never missing a day to water them. He was also ecstatic every day, something I had always wished my Lucas to be.

Every weekend, we would go to the community center to distribute food to the neighbors. As the city was deserted with most moving to the better parts of the country, those that live here are often faced with a crisis of water and food. Fortunately, I inherited quite a bit from my family to use and due to my simple life (I did not adopt any tech that TempFinite sold, leading a very communal life), it wasn’t hard to spend them on ingredients from the city. Lucas would volunteer to commute 2 hours to buy as much as he could for the best price. The kids adored him, seeing him as an older brother to them. Many even asked if he was my grandson to which I accepted. To add to the joke, he started calling me “granny”. After all, it was a much simpler explanation than telling them about his origins. It’s weird, but this life I started to live with Lucas, took away all the pain I had over the years: addiction to opiates in my 40s where after two overdoses I quit, a miscarriage for which I left my fiancé, and leaving home for reasons I still cannot rationalize. But my life suddenly felt better and better every day and I started to find strength in finding meaning in life again. It was like the life I dreamt of, came in like a mist in my life. A mist, I wish would engulf my soul.

Since the day I reunited with Lucas, however, I kept aging more and more. My bones kept getting weaker, eventually to an extent where I could no longer walk anymore and relied on a wheelchair. My vision started getting blurry to the point where relying on glasses didn’t help either. Lucas, on the other hand, didn’t age at all. Still the same 18-year-old he always was. It’s almost like he was stuck in stasis, like he was from Neverland.

15 years passed since I found him again, and I could tell that I was nearing my death. Lucas stopped taking rest for himself as he kept to my side every night. He would ensure I take my medications properly and check in now and then whether or not I was sleeping well. Now and then we would crack jokes about high school, although I was now losing touch with my memories as well. It didn’t matter to Lucas though, he simply wanted to stay beside me for as long as it would take. This was oddly eerie. Not once did it seem like he longed for the contact of others nor about returning back to “his time”. To Lucas, it almost seemed like I was the only thing that existed.

Little did I know, Lucas was full of secrets himself. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night, only to see him head to the backyard shoveling something. At first, I thought he was taking care of the plants. But then one day, I see him pull out a trunk from the ground. Due to my memory loss, I could not recall what it was but it seemed familiar.

Lucas never told me about the trunk. I assumed he kept it in his room which I did not have the strength to go and check for myself. All I could say is that Lucas certainly obsessed over the trunk. He spent at least a few nights going back to the yard to dig it out.

It was an afternoon when Lucas suddenly approached me.

“I’ve found the way back”, he said as he was tying his shoes.
“Back where?”, I replied.
“To where it all began. I might know how to stop it.”

It? What does he mean by that? Going back? That cannot be right.

The look of resolve on his face, however, changed my mind. He’s right, he’s sure of himself. Trying to divert the conversation, I asked him if he wanted anything to drink.

“A bottle of water. I’m heading out to buy some stuff for dinner tonight.”

“Okay, stay safe.”

As finished tying his laces, Lucas looked back at me. The way he turned, told me there was something he was struggling to say.

“Oi granny, whatcha want for dinner tonight?”, he asked with a smug face.

“Oh? Weren’t you heading out? I thought you knew.”

“Beats me. How about steak? Better have ‘em while you still have teeth.”

“Sure. Make sure to get potatoes too.”

“Aren’t you a glutton?”, he smirked.

Except, it had been 4 days and Lucas hadn’t returned. I knitted and knitted as I waited for him. “He’s probably lost”, I thought, owing to his lack of directional awareness. However, I doubted him to leave me in such a state. After 2 nights, I got worried and sat at my veranda. Staring outside in my wheelchair, I waited for him like I did all these years. I had biscuits for lunch, being unable to heat the food Lucas kept in the refrigerator. I drifted to sleep now and then, only to abruptly wake up to think I heard a knock on the door. Each time I would wheel myself to the main door, only to be disappointed. It then started snowing on the fourth day Lucas disappeared. It was very windy as the snow engulfed the neighborhood. Whistling, I felt sorrow pouring into the wind, almost like a sermon playing for those lost in the passage of time, never growing older. Just like Lucas.

Realizing that Lucas may not come back in this weather, I decided to wheel myself to the living room. On my way there, I noticed the guest room’s door was ajar. It surprised me, considering Lucas would always lock the room before heading out. Curious, I entered the room.

It was very tidy, almost like no one lived in that room before. The curtains were clean, the bedsheets were as they were, and the flowers did not show any sign of withering. In the middle of the floor, however, laid the trunk he dug out. It was open. I approached it to see the contents inside.

Inside the trunk was a collection of photos. A picture of two teenagers standing in front of a snowman. A picture of a boy whose face was covered in cake. A picture of a girl celebrating her sweet sixteen and beside her was a boy who wore a baggy suit. There were many more, but the one that stood out the most was the largest picture. In that, the two of them dressed like a groom and bride, with the bride was hugging the groom from the side. That picture is the one I took with Lucas back in middle school at one of school socials.

Then I noticed something poking out from the back: a folded piece of paper. I took it out and unfolded it. It was written in a messy handwriting. It was a letter. I squint my eyes to try my best reading it:

Dear _________,

How are you? Where are you? Are you okay? Is your family alright?

If you’re ever back, I hope you remember the trunk we buried in your backyard. Chances are you are reading this and if so, I am glad I can talk to you again. However, by the time you read this, I am long gone. If you’re beating yourself up for not telling me that you’re leaving, it’s fine, I know the truth. Your father told me the morning of the day you asked me to prom, and it was dawning heavy in my heart. Truth be told, when you asked me to dance with you, I kept trying to hold back my tears, and unfortunately, I did. I wish I told you what I knew, and how that would be the last time I would see you. Naturally, all I wanted to see was your face which is always void of emotions. I am writing this to let you know, that wherever you are right now, I wish I was there. In a few hours, it will be deployed. Once it does, I do not know whether or not I will live. While I still am, I want to tell you something.

I love you, _________. All these years, I made a fool of myself to make sure to make you laugh at my antics and let me stick around you. It has been 11 years, and I couldn’t ask for anyone else to be in my life. I am sorry to put you through this although by now I am guessing you have a family you built and a house big enough for everyone. I hope you’re somewhere beyond the borders of this wretched country, somewhere warmer. I don’t hope, I know you will have the life I dream of you to have. Since my time is running out, I will push my luck one last time for you.

_________, WILL YOU MARRY ME?

– Lucas Memoria.

From the window of the guest room, I could see that the storm had subsided. All that I could now see was the streetlights faintly gleaming in the dark. In it, I could barely make out a strange mist swirling in the air, a miasma that seemed “evil”. Rubbing away tears from my eyes, I wheel myself to the main door and unlocked it.

I better keep the door unlocked for Lucas.

(Link to explanation guide)