Chapter 1: It Begins With Silence

It was that day. The day that would turn out to be the last — for many. And for the rest of us, it was the last of its kind.

For me too, it marked an ending. The final day in the rhythm of a life that had repeated itself so often. Wake up. Work alone in my room. Eat. Go to my part-time job at the store. Eat again. Sleep. Repeat.

Sometimes, I'd break the loop by visiting my aunt Shiori — my only remaining family — at her apartment for dinner. But that was rare.

Sunday, March 1, 2037. That was the day. At 10 a.m., I was already seated at my desk, deep in work. My shared apartment had become my reluctant home after finishing my master's degree in physics at MIT. I hadn't planned to stay, but here I was.

The door burst open. Jacob Tuffin, my best friend and roommate strode in with his usual swagger and, judging by the smell and his wide grin, likely a hangover. That was typical Jake — carefree, chaotic and in every way my opposite

He had dropped out of the same physics master's program just before completing it, then settled for a bachelor's degree and didn't even work in that field. That always struck me as… questionable?

"Yo, Kazu, dude", he drawled, slurring his words slightly. „It's Sunday! Can't you just chill for once and not work on your precious project, Mr. ‚I'm disciplined and cold'?"

I turned slightly, on the edge of annoyance. His delivery was routine by now — but he still managed to poke at me.

Yet, despite everything, he was my only real friend. And I was his. Why that was, I couldn't say. But I was glad for it.

"Oh Jake," I said, not trying to hide the sarcasm, „how about waking up without a hangover for once and doing something useful, something that makes just a little sense?"

He clutched his chest like I had stabbed him. "My god, you little imp. You always hit below the belt. You're impossible to beat! The god of dissing…"

I gave him a half-smile. "I've got a meeting with the professor at eleven. Need to return the microscope I borrowed from the university's lab. He wants to drink a coffee afterward, too, so I'm heading out."

Jake nodded, already half-tuned out. "Yeah, yeah… I've got… stuff to do too. See you tomorrow. Or tonight, if I manage to survive."

He slipped out of the door, and I got up, pulling on my gray coat and picking up the carefully packed microscope.

Outside, a crisp spring breeze met me. The sky was filled with light clouds, and the sun hung low, casting bright but not harsh light across the city.

The university was only a few hundred meters away and I began to walk.

The streets were quiet. Too quiet.

Empty.

Empty they were.

Empty.

…

I entered the campus courtyard and followed the familiar path silently and steady, like always.


Students lounged on benches, spread out across the green sun-drenched grass, chatting, laughing — light and effortless. Some studied, others gossiped, and young couples, locked in quiet companionship, pretended to focus on textbooks while clearly savoring their closeness more than the content.


A group of fresh-faced students stood near the central plaza, staring up at the main building fascinated. Their eyes wide, their mouths parted in wonder. You could clearly see the future gleaming behind their expression — hope, ambition, the thrill of standing at the edge of possibility.

But I never felt that way.

It wasn't that I couldn't understand it or why people had these feelings in those moments. I recognized joy, ambition, infatuation, even love in others. I just didn't feel them myself. Not in the way they did. Never.

It's complicated. As if some unseen invisible force had installed a filter over my soul, which blocks those colors form ever reaching me.

I rarely smiled. And when I rarely did, it was often forced — mechanical, something I practiced in the mirror so I wouldn't come off as completely weird. Occasionally, Jake's behavior earned a light chuckle. And when I was young, in the warn embrace of my aunt Shiori's arm, it used to feel like warmth in the middle of winter.

I never knew my parents. But that's a story for another time.

In this vibrant world of bright faces and loud dreams, I moved like a shadow. Not ignored. Just unseen. But honestly, I preferred it that way. Crowds unsettled me. Emotions exhausted me. When Jake dragged me to parties or double dates, I would find myself shrinking into the background, wondering how all the others could just.., exist this way.

In a way, I couldn't deal with people's judgements. People always told me I was cold, boring, too quiet, too analytical. Unremarkable.

I understood them. But could I change it? Maybe. Maybe not.

Anyway — enough about me.


I entered the main science building and made my way to the office. I knocked. A few seconds passed, before the door opened.

There stood Professor Mathias Albers — 49 years old, and one of the most brilliant physicists of our time. His brown hair was slicked back neatly, his tailored gray suit without a wrinkle. He greeted me with his usual calm elegance.

When I was studying physics here, he was a full-time lecturer, always supporting me through my way. Since I left, he's been working outside the university again for the most part.

I forgot to mention that my aunt Shiori, who, it should be noted, raised me alone, also is a highly respected physicist. She knew Albers personally because she studied with him, and so it was relatively easy to get into MIT.

"Good morning, Kazutoshi," he said, his voice smooth, warm.

"Good morning, Professor," I replied,

"Come in. Place the microscope on the shelf please. I trust it served you well?"

I stepped inside and carefully set the package down.

„Shall we go for coffee?" he asked, brushing imaginary dust from his lapel. "It's been too long."

"Sure. The same café?"

He nodded. "Of course. It's beautiful outside."

And so, we walked together through the gentle sunlight, our steps naturally in sync. Both of us had our hands in our coat pockets. It had always been this way with Professor Albers — calm, direct, never awkward. He was one of the few people I genuinely liked and could talk with, feeling good. He often said I was on a different wavelength from everyone else — that my mind was built for something greater. My aunt Shiori echoed that thought. They believed my "social detachment" wasn't a flaw — it was destiny.

"How's your aunt doing?" The professor asked, turning my way.

"She's ben in France since last week. Business trip. Said she'll be back tomorrow hopefully."

"Stil obsessed with that strawberry cheesecake frozen yogurt? She always ate it in university back then."

I chuckled. "Unfortunately, yes. Netflix, pyjamas and yogurt — her holy Friday night combo, also with almost 50 years."

He laughed softly.

We reached the café at the corner and stepped inside. The rich scent of roasted coffee beans curled around.

"Ah, Professor!" The barista called with a grin. "The usual?"

"Indeed."

"And for you, young man?"

"I'll have the same."

We took our seats by the window. A waiter brought over our two steaming cups, some cookies, milk capsules and sugar. Then he vanished, leaving us in silence.

The Professor took a deep sip, his eyes drifting towards the window. The sunlight fell in.

"How are you managing… with everything going on right now?" He asked.

Ah, yes. I hadn't mentioned it yet. A near world war had broken out days earlier. Tensions between global powers reached their peak and finally erupted. The worst had been in the Middle East and Eastern Europe — no full-scale attacks yet, but pressure was building up.

"Every day, I understand more clearly just how broken this world is," I said.

He nodded slowly. "It's always been this way. There will never be peace where there are borders. Where ideologies divide, nations follow. And nations create walls, borders."

"Unity is impossible when everyone's chasing a different truth."

"Exactly, only if everyone chases the same goal, there can be constant peace," he said. "But you understand that, Kazutoshi. You see more than the most."

A silence fell. The professor took another sip of his coffee, gazing thoughtfully out of the window.

„This world is not yet ready for the Messiah," he murmured.

I looked at him, confused. „What do you mean, professor?"

He waved it off with a soft laugh. "Just a passing thought. So — how is your work on the time machine going? Still pushing that boulder uphill?"

„I'm hitting walls. No meaningful breakthroughs lately."

He smiled. "Kazutoshi, you're only 28. You have time. Many paths will open, Perhaps focus on something less… impossible. You could even try finding a girlfriend."

I rolled my eyes. "Jake keeps trying. It's hopeless."

"Well," he chuckled, "the right person tends to appear when you least expect it."

He shifted in his seat, adjusting his collar. A gleam of color caught my eye — blue, violet…

„Professor, may I ask what that is?"

He pulled the necklace free. The metal shimmered between deep blue, purple and copper. The pendant: a crescent moon with its points downward, encircling a trident aimed skyward.

„It is called Consilium Noctis. That was the name of our group back at university. A bit theatrical, I admit. Shiori has one too, though I suspect she rather wears her floral accessories."

"There were others?"

"We were nine in total, including Sergei Volkov."

My breath caught. „The Sergei Volkov? The famous Russian neuroscientist whose work got locked up by the government?"

He nodded. "He was older than the rest of us. Former military. A big brother figure inside our group."

Sergei Volkov. One of the geniuses of the 21st century. He researched neuronal manipulation and external influence on neuronal structures, published his works shortly on the internet, but the government blocked all access. According to rumours, Volkov discovered even more, he made expeditions and researched something. The findings were so massive that he withdrew from science altogether.

I leaned forward. "My aunt never told me you studied with him… What happened to him?"

The professor exhaled, his expression dimming. "It's a long story. A tragic one. If I tell you, you must keep it between us. I won't tell you everything."

„I promise." I answered.

„So, in 2009, he was 32, Sergei detected something — an anomaly. Sergei's team used a seismograph to detect a constant deep underground tension in the north of the USA that couldn't be explained. He observed it for months, it never fluctuated, it was constant. So he decided to travel there, but the government refused him access to the area. Sergei reached out to scientists all over the world about this phenomenon. A scientist from Armenia contacted Sergei and told him that he had found the same phenomenon in seven places, most recently in the southern Iraq.

He invited Sergei on an expedition, and Sergei took me along too. We went to a safe place and found the spot where the seismograph showed a constant tension under the ground. We started digging in the hope, that we could still reach the spot deeply inside the earth. It was, and what we found was very different from what we expected… It was a kind of cavity inside the earth, an exact shape of a sphere with a diameter of 50 meters, no markings, perfect geometry. I didn't go in myself, but Sergei was inside with two soldiers. The room was freezing, they measured -15°C. It was bright without a source of light. The soldiers said their minds felt distorted and they saw things. Visions. Sergei too.

He came out, and he was completely different. Something changed in him. He told me to leave this place immediately and return to the USA, and I did so. Members of the team told me he had gone back into the cave to ‚extract' something, but they didn't know what.

After that, I didn't hear anything for a year, not even from Sergei, who suddenly moved to Germany with his daughter. He isolated himself. But one night, he called me. He told me in a panic what he had found. Said he found the same cavities in all seven locations. Each exactly the same. He spoke of an essence, something unexplainable. Then he hung up.

Days later, he was found dead."

I sat in stunned silence.

"His daughter was six," the professor continued. "She went into an orphanage. His wife had died long before. Whatever Sergei found, it was enough to cost him his life. And now, his researches are buried, like he is."

I didn't know what to say. Sergei Volkov's legacy — his life — reduced to whispers and state secrets. And his daughter… she'd be thirty-three now.

„Professor, I'm lost for words. Thank you for your trust. I won't forget."

The professor smiled faintly. "Let's stop there. You've finished your coffee."

I nodded and we stood up, said goodbye to the owner and walked down the street again,

When we arrived at the university, I stopped at the campus and turned to say goodbye. He stopped me.

"Kazutoshi," he said, his voice low. "Never fear the blue tears. But beware the red smile. One day, you'll understand. And find your destiny."

He turned around and left. It was a habit of his to always give me cryptic words of wisdom when he said goodbye, which I was supposed to decipher at some point. So far, I haven't understood any of them. He probably just wants to appear mysterious.

And so, I turned and walked back home.

And once more, the shadows gathered within me.