Kaci.

  It’s time.

  My eyes fluttered open groggily as the soft whisper drew me up out of the chaotic world that filled my mind’s eye. The last vestiges of the dream faded. I didn’t try to hold onto the memories. They were ephemeral and would fade as most dreams do—a jumble of memory and fantasy that disintegrated all too easily.

  What had I been doing? I frowned as I sat up and tried to get my bearings in the dim lighting of my room. I was rushing somewhere. I was late. One of those dreams where I knew I was going somewhere, but where? I never can figure that part out... And I’m checking my bags over and over again as though I’m afraid to forget something. There’s always something to forget.

  It was annoying, but on the other hand, those kinds of dreams came as a bit of a relief. I hadn’t gone somewhere. I hadn’t skimmed close to the ever tantalizing doors of The Other Side. I had only briefly glimpsed the ever collapsing, ever expanding, ever transforming geometric portal before I had sunk further into REM sleep.

  For most people, sleep is a darkness. A blip in time. A moment of unknown, where you close your eyes and then open them hours later. While you are asleep, the world goes on. Who knows what is happening?

  For me, though, it’s different. Closing my eyes, I discovered the worlds that you can build from the power of your own imagination, painting a film into the darkened cave that was my mind’s eye. There was also the world of dozing, where you lie, snuggled in a blanket, and slip in a gentle world of dreams that are so real, it is hard to recognize the intangible nature of that reality. A world of archetypes and meaning. Messages, I had come to realize. Messages from the other side.

  And I paddled there in the shallows of the ocean of consciousness, like a child building sandcastles in the face of the tide. I hadn’t known the dangers that lurked beneath the dark waters of what lay beyond. For beyond the comforting shallows of archetypal dreams, there lay doors to the Other Side. If you didn’t sink fast enough into the blinding deep of REM, you could end up wandering as I did somewhere else.

  That’s when everything went wrong.

  “Kaci.”

  A gruff voice called out from the hall followed by a gentle rap.

  “Coming,” I called out.

  Shuffling off, Rob moved away, no doubt to prepare our morning meal. I heaved myself out of my capsule pod, slid back the door to my tiny bathroom, and started my morning routine. After my shower, I gently brushed my curly red hair, washed my face, and stared at myself in the mirror.

  My hand rose to brush the glass, as always startled by the realness that greeted me. The freckled, pale skin. The large green eyes. The brilliant red hair. My mother’s pert lips. My father’s strong chin. I was the product of a long line of genetic planning—and somehow I had ended up like this. A freak. An outcast. A person who hated herself and what she was becoming.

  At the thought, my lips pressed into a thin line. I hated how they talked about me, hated the weight of their expectations, and even more... I hated how they drove me even now. The rage within me curled my fist, but I knew that smashing the glass wouldn’t do anything. It would just put more work on Rob’s shoulders.

  Turning away, I focused on choosing my outfit for the day. Unlike most young women my age, I preferred simple, minimalist clothing. I didn’t want to spend time and money—or energy—on something so superficial as my wardrobe. Living on minimal monthly income as I did, I spent my allotted credits on the basics of life and my personal cruiser, the Kensho.

  “Kensho?” Rob had queried when I had ordered the name painted over the old one.

  “You like ‘Angelica’?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

  Rob chuckled. “It does sound a bit...”

  “Like a pleasure craft?”

  “Something like that.”

  For a second, I wondered whether Rob had ever frequented one of those kinds of ships, where the rich and the famous cruised about, living in the lap of luxury and vacationing on Old Terra. Rob had worked for my family for several years, but the older man might have once worked on those kinds of space cruisers.

  “Does Kensho sound a bit try-hard?” I had finally asked, deciding to not pester Rob about his personal life. The man was rather private. He hadn’t been paid to get interrogated about whatever he might have seen or done in his younger years.

  “Well... Maybe not.”

  That was Rob for you. Diplomatic to a fault. Perhaps that was part of the job. Perhaps that was how he’d been trained. Perhaps Rob was also just following the lines of his breeding, what he’d been raised to do from a young child. Just the thought chilled me to the bone. I hated thinking about it, but I couldn’t let it go either. It made me want to pester him more, pry him out of whatever bonds he might have been bound with.

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  On the other hand, I had to remind myself time and again, maybe he likes it. Like so many people do. They don’t want to rock the boat, and they don’t appreciate it when other people start questioning things either.

  Today, I put on one of my more old-fashioned outfits—a simple black dress with a neat white collar, dark purple leggings, and black leather granny boots. Surveying myself in the mirror, I smiled at myself as I patted the low bun I had tied up. I looked like a girl who had stepped out of the ancient eras long past. Quite a nice look, I thought.

  “How was your night?” asked Rob when I entered the narrow galley of our home away from home.

  “Not bad,” I said with a slight smile. “How about you?”

  I peeked at him over my morning cup of tea. Rob, like usual, was dressed in his semi-formal butler suit, which consisted of a white shirt, black jacket and pants, and a matching formal tie. His greying black hair was brushed back neatly, and I noticed that he’d trimmed his short beard. Behind large glasses, his dark eyes took note of my look. He smiled, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

  “As usual, a good sleep,” Rob replied as he always did.

  Rob would never tell me whether he had a terrible sleep or not. That’s what a good butler did. Instead, he focused on getting me fed for the day and talked with me about what my plans were.

  “Any further tips?” Rob asked a bit later on as I finished up my meal.

  “Hm...” I sipped the tea he prepared for me. “I spoke with Cham and one of the Ishim.”

  “Hm.”

  Rob’s dark eyes darkened as he processed the news. He hated it when I talked about the ones I met on the Other Side. Not because he hated me or what I could do. He just worried. It was, I supposed, what he was born to do. I hated that as well.

  “It’s almost time,” I said. “And when it comes, I’ll be ready. It’s what I was born to do.”

  “Hm.”

  A soft sound. A thoughtful hum. Rob nodded and rose to start clearing the cramped table by the galley. I helped him despite his protestations. Together, we washed up. We didn’t talk. Instead, we allowed a comfortable silence to hang between us.

  In the quiet, I sensed that he too also felt discomfort about the whole situation. Perhaps he was a bit like me. Maybe that’s why he had volunteered to step down from his cushy job overseeing my mother’s villa and took on the job of watching over me. Maybe he also hated what I had to do. Maybe just being here was also his way of rebelling.

  After a moment, he asked, “Have they ever said why this specific date?”

  “A little... but not much.” I hesitated and then added, “I just needed to know whether it would help me to reach Geoffrey. This is the only way.”

  “I know.”

  “They probably have their own reasons. There’s more at stake than even I can guess at.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt that.”

  “So, in a sense, we are using each other.” I glanced over at Rob and smiled at him as reassuringly as I could. “I know that going in. I’m careful.”

  “Geoffrey said that as well.”

  I tensed at those quiet words. So did Rob. It was as though they had slipped out of him unwillingly. Yet he had said them. A testament to how worried he probably was. I sighed and shook my head. He’s not wrong, Kaci, I told myself. Geoffrey was so confident. And then look what happened—disappeared completely.

  That happened years ago. I’d only been eight when my genius, talented older brother had vanished overnight. Creeping down the stairs, I could hear my mother’s shrieks as she followed my father into his study. The door slammed shut, and I pressed close and tried to find out what happened. Mother and Father were always arguing behind closed doors, but the panic threading in my mother’s words and the tension vibrating through my father’s posture.

  My mother had screamed and wailed days after. She’d packed Father’s bags and tossed them out the front door. Father, as usual, ignored her, carried the suitcases inside, and ordered the servants to calm my mother down. From that day onward, my parents rarely spent time together. My mother hid in her room, medicating; my father buried himself in his work. The rest of my siblings, Rachelle, Warren, and Thomas, disappeared into their respective boarding schools and busy lives.

  And I began to dream.

  Scratch that. Even worse, I began to dream of The Other Side, where I heard the distant call of Geoffrey. Where Geoffrey must have gone.