POV (Marcus)
I always loved it when mom read me stories as a little boy. Tales of fearless women and daring men who, against impossible odds, changed the course of history.
Stories of kingdoms that rose and fell, of wars fought on and off the battlefield, and of worlds so different they felt like magic.
In many ways, I was still that little boy. My love for digging up relics, my reading habits, even my not-so-small obsession with world-building games—all of it came from those stories.
Now, change had found me.
Dad got a new job working as a neurosurgeon. He'd been recruited by the American government, which meant packing up our lives in Lithuania and stepping into a country I'd only seen in movies.
For someone who reads obsessively about far-off places, you'd think I'd be thrilled. But the truth was that I was terrified.
I'd imagined one day living like Bear Grylls. Only, instead of jungles and venomous snakes, I'd have to survive locker-lined hallways and temperamental teenagers.
Lucky me.
.
"We're here," Dad announced as we pulled into the driveway of our new home.
I stepped out of the car and craned my neck at the building.
"It's a lot bigger than the last one."
"You think?"
I didn't even bother reacting. After years of practice, Lizzie's sarcasm rolled right off me. Plus, after the long trip, I was too drained to come up with a clever comeback.
"Lizzie, be nice to your brother," Mom scolded gently as she came up beside us.
"Why are we all just standing here? The door's right there!" Lizzie squealed, bolting forward like the ten-second walk was some grand marathon.
Inside, the house swallowed us whole. The living room was absurdly wide, with couches that looked like they could eat a person alive. I dropped onto one and almost melted into it.
As nice as it all was, I couldn't linger. Something called to me, and I needed to answer.
"Hey, Dad," I called, heading for the stairs, "which room's mine?"
"First door on the right."
I bounded up the stairs with bated breath, I could feel my heartbeat quicken with every step.
Dad had promised it would be waiting in my room when we arrived. My sixteenth birthday gift, the newly released VR pod.
Technically, my birthday had been three months ago, but the pod hadn't hit the shelves until last week. I'd wanted it so badly I didn't care about the wait.
And now, here it was.
Sitting in the corner like a prize straight out of my dreams: a smooth white pod, sleek and curved, ripped right from the future.
It took a lot of willpower not to jump in there and then.
Knock. Knock.
"Hey, bud. What do you think of your new toy?" Dad asked as he stepped into the room.
"I love it."
He nodded at the pod. "So, what game are you gonna try out first?"
I drifted over to the bed and sat down. I already knew the answer; he probably did too.
"Civs and Empires," we said in unison. His chuckle met my grin.
"Well, that's going to have to wait," Dad said. "We've got company."
"Already?" I sighed, falling on the bed.
"Yeah, the neighbors stopped by to say hi."
"We'd better not keep them waiting then." I said, pushing myself up
The faster we get this over with, the better. Hopefully they're not total weirdos.
.
.
POV (Kara)
I could feel something tugging at my mind, probing, like someone trying to ease open a door after sneaking home past curfew.
Don't ask me how I knew, I just did.
The same way I knew the exact meal we'd had for dinner five months ago, or the number of times it rained in February of 2010.
I could remember everything.
And it wasn't just a "good memory." If that were all, people wouldn't call me a freak in this God-forsaken town.
If I was there when it happened, it stayed with me. Permanently.
From what I could tell, not everyone's mind worked like mine.
Whenever I try to recall something, my consciousness slips into this place I call the mindspace.
It's like stepping into a library where every part of me is on display. Memories are stacked and filed however I want: by year, by month, even by the emotions I felt at the time.
All I have to do is walk up to the shelf, pull what I need, and—voilà.
And none of this happens in slow motion. I don't zone out or freeze mid-sentence. It's instant. I barely even realize I've done it until it's over.
Like that time in Algebra when I blurted out 3.142857142857143—the value of Pi to the fourteenth decimal. I must have read it somewhere, buried it without realizing, and out it came.
That got me a few side glances, even from Mr. Ramirez.
Sometimes I scare myself with how much I know—things I never even realized I'd learned.
.
"Hi, welcome to Greenville, I'm David, your next-door neighbor, and this is my daughter, Kara."
"Hi, nice to meet you. Please come in.
I'm Samantha, and this is my husband, Kevin, and our two kids, Marcus and Lizzie."
.
I stepped inside, and instantly, warning bells went off in my head.
I turned around in time to see a black van pull up just on the other side of the road.
And then it hit me. A memory, uninvited. A black van—that van. The same one from the night she left.
My dad, knocked out on the floor.
Men in black suits, flooding the house.
I almost didn't recognize him; he looked so… young.
Shit, I thought, running back up.
To… my room?
No, not me, this wasn't my memory.
How did it get in my head?
Then she was there, standing in front of me.
My mom.
She knelt, her eyes locking with mine.
I felt everything she felt.
Fear, sadness, and beneath it all, an anger so sharp it made my skin prickle.
Even without the mindscape, I could never forget what she told me that night just before she slipped out through my bedroom window.
"Our people live in worlds within this world. If you reach out, you'll always find help. But beware anyone who asks about the network. And never, ever reveal what you can do.
Goodbye, my Kara."
And just like that, she was gone.
.
The next morning, it was all over the news.
My mom was a fugitive, accused of leaking state secrets.
Lies, they were all lies.
A few months later, we moved to Greenville to escape the whispers, the stares, the rumors that never stopped.
.
"Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
I blinked back, trying to focus. What was his name again?
Right—Marcus. He was staring at me like I'd glitched.
It was only a few seconds—walking in, sitting down—yet they were gone.
Vanished. Slipped right out of my head.
Even the mindscape couldn't pull them back.
What the hell was happening to me?