The Alliance's Directive and Domestic Duties
Alex's messages were at the top of my feed, his new pseudonym, "BlueHawk79," glaring back at me. It seemed we were all embracing new identities in this brave new world. His last message had come through at an ungodly hour, a testament to his dedication to our cause. I scrolled up, tracing the path of our conversation through the night.
"Hey, I've been digging through Chatter, using AI to translate posts from all over. Found a handful of people who are seeing the same white dots we are. It's not just us, man. There are others out there," Alex had texted.
"I've managed to connect with about seven people so far using a burner account and VPN. And get this, not all of them are near a rift. There's a guy in Tharivol, another in Luminara, and they all describe seeing these strange white dots - Mana. I tried talking to a few others, but they didn't reply, probably thinking my new account was just a troll."
"I've also followed your advice and deleted my messages with you, though I can't delete my account since I have my friends and all, ya know? I'm sure it's fine since I didn't post anything related to my experience."
"The number's going up. More and more people are reporting they can see the dots. It's rising by the hour."
"Are you there, Evan? I mean, NightSky72? Did I add the wrong person or something? You've been quiet for hours."
A pang of guilt twisted in my gut. I had been caught up in my own thoughts, wary of revealing too much, even something as inconsequential as my time zone. I tapped out a quick response, grateful for Alex's diligence and the progress he'd made.
"My bad for going quiet on you, Blue. I've just had a lot swirling around up here, you know? But what you've dug up is seriously impressive. It's crazy to think this isn't just us - it's happening everywhere. We gotta keep digging into this. There's got to be a reason we're the ones seeing these Mana dots. Let's figure this out together, yeah?"
I let out a long breath, my focus shifting to Lily's messages with a wave of relief. Her style was to the point, a stark contrast to Alex's bubbling streams of words. Lily, now known as "Willow," had been regularly spotting those fleeting white dots since the day the sky seemed to rip apart. Her stories lined up with the tale I had spun in my own post.
"They appear and disappear so quickly, just like you described," she relayed. "I saw them on the same day as you, but I didn't immediately start Googling for explanations. At first, I wondered if I was losing my marbles, and once I was convinced I wasn't, I started questioning my own perception." Lily's—WhisperingWillow's—updates had me in deep thought. It seemed that not everyone could see the dots constantly like Alex and I could.
Hours later, her unanswered message hung in the air, a silent nudge urging me to respond.
"Evan, are you there?" her next message asked, the words hovering on my screen, awaiting my input.
I quickly typed out a response, eager to maintain the delicate connection we had forged over our mysterious shared visions, while also careful not to reveal too much about my own circumstances.
"I'm here, Willow," I typed, mindful to use her preferred pseudonym to protect the fragile trust we'd built in our search for answers. Lily was too close, too risky in the vast, impersonal web where we navigated our shared mystery. "Your experiences are important. We're partners in this. Let's pool our information, tackle this puzzle as a team," I hit send, hoping our collaboration might yield some clarity. I held back from revealing that our situations weren't entirely parallel; unlike her, the sight of Mana had become a constant in my life.
After exchanging messages with Alex and Lily, I set my phone aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The familiar creak of the floorboards greeted me as I made my way toward the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee already wafting through the air. But as I rounded the corner, I was met with an unexpected sight: my mother, seated on the living room couch, her gaze fixated on the television screen. It was a replay of the scene from yesterday, yet Emily was nowhere to be seen.
"Morning, Mom," I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
Her response was a mere nod, her attention unyielding as images of the Global Alliance conference flickered across the screen. I poured myself a cup of coffee and joined her, curiosity piqued by the gravity of the situation being broadcasted.
The conference room was vast, filled with representatives from over 200 countries, all eyes on the man at the podium. Dr. Ethan Raines stood with an air of solemnity, his tall, athletic frame accentuated by the sharp lines of a navy blue suit. His dark brown hair, highlighted with distinguished streaks of gray, was neatly combed, and his round, silver-framed glasses caught the light as he glanced down at his notes. The oval shape of his face was softened by a well-kept beard, flecked with silver, that lent him an air of wisdom. His keen, ocean-blue eyes scanned the room, reflecting the gravity of his address.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Dr. Raines began, his voice steady and authoritative, echoing through the room, "we stand before a phenomenon that defies our current understanding of physics. These rifts, as we've come to call them, are indeed portals. However, our attempts to glean more information by sending drones inside have met with failure. Once they cross the threshold, all communication ceases, as if the drones are lost to an immeasurable distance, despite the rifts being mere meters thick."
A murmur of unease rippled through the crowd at his words. I felt a chill creep up my spine, the implications of his statement sinking in. The image on the screen switched to a graph, displaying the variance in the rifts' sizes across different countries.
"The size of these portals appears to correlate with the population density of the affected areas," Dr. Raines continued, gesturing toward the graph. "As our data indicates, there are now 89 countries affected by these rifts across the globe. Remarkably, all 89 rifts appeared simultaneously, emerging at the same time in city centers around the world."
He paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in. "The smallest rifts measure approximately one kilometer wide in three countries: Korzuv, Ardenia, and Zylonia. Each of these nation's city centers has a population density of around 1,500 people per square kilometer. Conversely, the largest rift spans seven kilometers in the nation of Tyrandis. The capital city of Aurelios, located within Tyrandis, has an astounding population density of 30,000 people per square kilometer, making it the most populous city on the planet with over 2 billion residents."
The camera panned to show the massive white streak looming over Tyrandis, a stark reminder of the crisis we faced. The silence in the living room was palpable, broken only by the occasional click of the television remote as my mother toggled between channels, searching for more information.
"Furthermore," Dr. Raines said, drawing my attention back to the conference, "several nations, in a bid to protect their citizens, launched preemptive strikes against the goblin-like creatures as they descended from the rifts. However, it appears an invisible barrier shielded these entities until they reached the ground. Once they landed and began to move, the barrier disappeared."
The revelation sent a ripple of disbelief through the conference room, and I could feel my mother's tension beside me. It was a lot to take in – the rifts, the creatures, and now an impenetrable barrier? It was as if we were living through a science fiction novel, except this was our reality.
"Our priority remains the safety and well-being of the global populace," Dr. Raines concluded, his gaze sweeping across the sea of delegates. "We must approach this crisis with caution and unity. The Global Alliance is committed to uncovering the truth behind these anomalies and ensuring the security of our world."
The television's speakers faded to a murmur as I turned away from the screen, my thoughts still tethered to the revelations of the Global Alliance conference. Mom's worried eyes met mine, a silent plea for reassurance in a world that seemed to be unraveling at the seams.
"Mom, it's going to be okay," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me. I reached out, placing a comforting hand over hers. "The best minds in the world are working on this. They'll figure it out."
She nodded, squeezing my hand in return. "I know, Ryan. It's just... seeing those creatures on the news, it's like something out of a nightmare. I can't even begin to imagine what's going on."
I offered her a small, understanding smile. "I can't even begin to imagine what's going on, but I promise you, I'll do everything I can to keep us safe. We're in this together, okay?"
Her lips curved into a grateful smile, the lines of worry momentarily softening. "You've always been the rock of this family, even when you were little. I'm proud of the man you've become."
Before I could respond, the sound of light footsteps descending the stairs broke our moment of connection. Emily appeared in the doorway, her blonde hair tousled from sleep, a yawn escaping her as she rubbed her eyes.
"Morning, you two," she mumbled, shuffling into the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"
Mom rose from the couch, her maternal instincts kicking in as she moved to prepare food for her children. "How about some pancakes, Emily?" she called out, already reaching for the mixing bowl.
Emily's face lit up, the weariness of sleep replaced by the promise of a delicious meal. "Sounds perfect, Mom!"
I followed Emily into the kitchen, taking a seat at the breakfast bar as Mom bustled about, gathering ingredients. The familiar routine of breakfast preparation was a welcome distraction, a reminder that life, in all its mundane glory, continued even in the face of the unknown.
As we sat down to eat, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Emily recounted a funny dream she'd had involving a unicorn and a flying car, her animated storytelling drawing laughter from both Mom and me. It was a much-needed reprieve from the gravity of our situation, a brief respite where we could simply be a family, sharing a meal and enjoying each other's company.
The pancakes were delicious, fluffy and golden, just the way Mom had always made them. We ate in comfortable silence, the clink of cutlery against plates a familiar symphony that soothed the soul.
As breakfast drew to a close, I stood up, collecting the empty plates. "I'll do the dishes," I offered, earning a grateful nod from Mom.
Emily hopped off her stool, grabbing her own plate. "I'll help," she said, a playful glint in her eye. "You're not getting out of sibling bonding time that easily, big brother."
Together, we tackled the pile of dishes, working in tandem as we had done countless times before. The mundane task was almost therapeutic, a simple yet grounding activity that anchored us in the here and now.
With the kitchen clean and the morning routine complete, I retreated to my room, ready to dive back into the digital world and continue my investigation into the Mana phenomenon. But as I closed the door behind me, I couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. My family was my anchor, the reason I would stop at nothing to uncover the truth and protect the ones I loved.
As I reached for my phone, a new message notification caught my eye. It was from Lily, her concise words a stark reminder of the task at hand.
"NightSky, I've been doing some digging on Chatter and other platforms, and it seems like more people are reporting seeing these white dots, or 'Mana' as they call it. Some are even claiming they can absorb them, and that it makes them feel energized. Have you tried that yourself? Do you think you'd be able to do that?"
I hesitated, mulling over Lily's message.
"Willow, I haven't tried absorbing the white dots, it hadn't even crossed my mind," I lied, feeling a twinge of guilt. In reality, I had tried it once, and the experience had been surprisingly energizing, almost addictive. But the lingering sense of unease afterwards worried me - I couldn't shake the feeling that there could be unknown, potentially dangerous side effects. Fearful of the consequences, I had decided not to attempt it again. I couldn't risk jeopardizing our fragile partnership by revealing my own brief, but concerning, experiments.
"As I mentioned before, I've only caught glimpses of the white dots occasionally, so experimenting with them has been a challenge," I explained, trying to sound convincing. "But I've noticed they're appearing more often now." I was stretching the truth, carefully concealing my actual encounter with the dots.
I paused, hoping my response would reassure Lily and quell any concerns about me interacting with the Mana. Truthfully, I didn't care about their safety - I wanted Lily and Alex to test the waters with Mana, as their observations and any potential side effects could be invaluable. If they didn't do it, the people posting their experiences with Mana online would. I simply needed to maintain control over the narrative, regardless of the risks they might face.