Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental.
September 4, 2019
A girl stood before a gravestone, one hand gripping the umbrella's rod so tightly that her knuckles ached, the other curled into a trembling fist at her side. She looked about sixteen, her whole body quivering with the weight of grief. Her sobs came uneven, broken, as if each one was tearing through her chest. She stared down at the name carved in stone, lips trembling, unable to form words, only moans escaping her.
Veloria, Dravenport City, Willowmere Town — December 22, 2020..
Nura sat slouched at her desk, one elbow propped up, her cheek pressed into her palm in a gesture of irritation. With her other hand she twirled a pen, tapping it against the desk absentmindedly. She wore a dark sweater over her crisp white uniform shirt, the tie pulled a little loose at the collar. Her skirt brushed just over her knees, white trousers underneath, school shoes tapping lightly against the floor as she crossed her legs. Her expression was one of complete boredom, as though the very air of the classroom weighed her down.
At the front, the physics teacher droned on, chalk in hand, scribbling on the board.
"Time," the teacher said, voice sharp with emphasis, "is not the same everywhere. Einstein proved that motion and gravity change the way time passes. For example, astronauts moving at great speed or staying near stronger gravity experience time differently than we do here on Earth. A second for them may not match a second for us. This is not imagination—this is relativity."
The teacher turned, eyes sweeping across the class.
"Think about it: two twins, one sent to space and the other left on Earth. When they reunite… one is slightly younger. That is the strange truth of the universe."
Nura let out a soft "hmmm," twirling the pen faster between her fingers. Still, time changes only a bit… Scott Kelly barely aged, she thought, lips pressed in a faint smirk. People believe what they're told. For me, time would be the same… or maybe not. Even if it is different, it doesn't matter for us. What matters is that people should focus on escaping their primitiveness, not chasing illusions.
She sighed, lowering her head onto the desk, folding both arms like a shield as her eyes stayed fixed on the teacher's moving lips. Her face tilted just enough to catch his words, though her mind was elsewhere.
It is painful to say, Nura's thoughts sharpened, but the world is surrounded by mere fools.
The bell rang, its shrill sound bouncing off the classroom walls. Chairs scraped as students hurried to pack up, their chatter already rising. Nura stayed slumped over her desk, cheek resting against her arms, eyes following the teacher as he gathered his notes and walked out.
But a few, she thought, her gaze heavy, proved not to be fools in this world. They showed us how fascinating it is to seek. They really are something… something far beyond, something a mere fool like me has no right to judge.
Her pen slipped from her fingers and rolled across the desk, but she didn't bother catching it. She just stayed there for a moment, lost in her own quiet maze of thoughts.
After a few seconds, Nura stood with a sudden jerk, scooping up the pen she had been spinning all period. She slipped it into her bag and tugged the strap over one shoulder, letting the weight of it settle across her back.
"Nura, Nura!" A cheerful voice rang from the door. A girl with soft brown hair and warm brown eyes hurried over, her steps light despite the cold air.
Nura gave her a faint smile. "Seraphina."
"Let's head home together," Seraphina said, already slipping beside her.
Nura's tired expression barely shifted. "I have to stop by the public library first… but since our way's the same for a while, let's go."
Seraphina grinned, bumping her shoulder against Nura's. "Perfect. Though honestly, you don't seem to focus on your studies at all. You live in a world of your own."
Nura forced a laugh, though her eyes carried no joy. "No, no, jeez… I'm just an overthinker, that's all."
"You really are," Seraphina teased. "How do you even pass then? Don't you worry about failing?"
Nura shrugged, pretending to enjoy the chatter. Inside, her thoughts sharpened: This is how people amuse themselves—walking with friends, talking about nothing. What a fool's way to pass time.
They continued down the road, their breath white in the crisp winter air. A silence grew between them, until Seraphina suddenly tugged on Nura's sleeve.
"Wait—I want to show you something."
Nura blinked, halting as Seraphina dug into her bag. Out came a sleek little case, shining faintly under the pale streetlight.
"Lip gloss," Seraphina said proudly. "From a famous brand. Just got it yesterday." Her eyes lit up with excitement.
Nura stared at it blankly. Lip gloss? Really? But her lips curled into a practiced smile. "Wow, they're so beautiful. I'm getting jealous. Can I try one?"
"Yeah, for sure!" Seraphina beamed, handing it over.
Nura twisted the cap off and dabbed a glossy sheen onto her lips. She exaggerated her reaction, laughing softly, tilting her head as though she adored the shine. "Not bad at all."
Seraphina clapped her hands together. "It looks perfect on you!"
Nura handed it back with a smile that felt heavy on her face. Inside, though, her thoughts were cold: What a gross thing. I'll never understand how something so small can amuse girls this much.
They walked a few more blocks together before reaching the place where their paths split.
"See you tomorrow," Seraphina waved, still glowing with warmth.
Nura waved back until her friend disappeared down the corner. Her face dropped immediately, the false cheer slipping away. She exhaled a shaky breath, her chest tight. Ahh, did I really act correctly? I don't even have acting skills. Pretending to like things you don't care about is exhausting. I just hope Seraphina didn't think I was mocking her.
A bead of sweat broke across her forehead despite the chill. She touched her lips, still faintly sticky with gloss, and frowned. What am I, really?
She tightened the strap of her bag and turned toward the road leading to the library, her steps slow, her thoughts heavier than the winter air.
Nura reached the library. It was vast, the walls painted a warm, rich brown, adorned with intricate carvings that caught the dim light in quiet patterns. She stepped inside, the silence swallowing her footsteps.
She moved toward a long, polished table lined with chairs and set her bag down, stretching one arm lazily over the wood. Then her gaze drifted to the tall, orderly shelves, each crammed with books of every size and color. She wandered slowly along the aisles, fingers brushing spines as she scanned titles, wondering which to pick.
A particular book caught her eye: Time Machine of Veloria, Dravenport by Eldon Thrayne. She blinked at the cover. A time machine in Veloria? Dravenport? I never heard of this… could my own city really have built a time machine?
Curiosity pried her forward as she plucked the book from the shelf, carefully settling into a chair. She opened it and read about a man named Alaric Veyron, who had devoted his life to creating a time machine. She absorbed a few biographical pages, learning of his relentless curiosity, the dangerous experiments that nearly destroyed him, and the city of Veloria that had quietly funded his work.
Then she paused. A photograph caught her eye—a capsule-shaped machine, sleek but worn, sitting in a shadowed lab. Beneath it, a caption read: At Everdawn University, Lab No. 7, resides this time machine.
Nura's heart skipped. Everdawn University… Lab 7… a real time machine? Could it still exist?
Her mind raced. Everdawn University… that's near St. Liora's Hospital. I could see it—I have an allowance card, after all. Father is a government official.
But doubt gnawed at her. Why doesn't anyone know about this time machine? Was it hidden, or never told to the public? If the city funded Alaric Veyron, people would have heard. Or is it all a lie? Maybe it's a secret project… Eldon Thrayne must have had some connection to Veyron. That could explain why only a few know.
Her fingers traced the edge of the photograph, and her heartbeat quickened. The thought of seeing a real time machine, uncovering a secret buried in her own city, made her pulse thrum with curiosity—and a flicker of fear.
She flipped a few more pages and noticed the publishing date: 2018. Not so long ago… she thought. I expected this to be ancient, lost in time somehow.
Her eyes widened slightly as she read on. And only two books published? This doesn't seem popular at all… I can't believe it.
She traced the text with her finger, puzzling over how such a remarkable story—about a real time machine—could have gone almost unnoticed. The idea that such a secret could exist, hidden in plain sight, made her pulse quicken even more.
She quickly snapped pictures of the strange pages and the capsule's image, her fingers trembling as if she had stolen a secret. She shoved the book back into the shelf, heart thumping wildly, and hurried out of the library.
At home, she tossed her bag on the bed and rushed to gather her allowance card, ID, her file of papers, and a pen, stuffing them all into her pale handbag. Her father barely looked up from his desk when she muttered she was heading to the university for study purposes. Permission, given so casually, felt like a shield.
Moments later, she had called a driver. The car ride felt endless, every passing building testing her patience. She tapped her foot against the floor, eyes locked on the window, whispering to herself, "A time machine… Everdawn University… could it be real?"
After what felt like hours compressed into minutes, the car slowed to a stop. She paid the driver quickly, clutching her bag tighter, and stepped out before the gates of Everdawn University.
© ADAM ALEXANDER