Victor jolted awake, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he clawed his way out of the nightmare’s grip. For a fleeting moment, he prayed it was just that—a nightmare. But as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of dawn, creeping through the window, they fell upon a framed photograph of his wife, his daughter, and himself, their smiles a stark contrast to the surrounding darkness.
And then it hit him like a physical blow—the crushing weight of reality. It wasn’t a nightmare, but a memory.
The room around him was a mess; clothes were strewn across the floor, empty bottles on the nightstand, and papers scattered about.
Victor sat up, running a hand through his unkempt hair. Sleep was now an elusive specter, one that taunted him with peace, only to snatch it away with cruel reminders of what he had lost.
He sat in silence, realizing there was no escape. This was his reality. The darkness held no comfort, and the light only served to illuminate the void left in the wake.
His day at CUEA University unfolded like a monochrome film, each scene devoid of color or meaning. The morning coffee from the stand on the school grounds tasted like ash in his mouth, the steam rising from the cup unnoticed by his vacant stare.
Day after day, Dr. Victor Frank had stood before his class, the once vibrant halls a gray blur in his vision. His lectures were nothing more than a drone of voices, a cacophony of information that fell from his lips with the sheer weight of disinterest. The chalk in his hand moved across the blackboard in mechanical sweeps. The students sat before him, their faces a sea of indifference mirroring his own. Their eyes were fixed on screens or lost in daydreams; their presence obligatory rather than eager for the knowledge they might glean.
Lunchtime came and went, the chatter and laughter of his colleagues a distant echo. He picked at his food mechanically, each bite a reminder of meals shared with Sophie and Miranda, now forever lost in time.
The afternoon lectures merged with the morning’s monotony. Words and equations, blending into an indistinct haze. Victor’s presence was merely physical; his spirit had long since faded. The university felt like a prison of repetition, with each lecture another bar in the cage of his apathy.
Long shadows fell across the campus as the sun descended. The day had passed him by—a series of events witnessed but not lived. As his last lecture of the day concluded, Victor gathered his belongings with mechanical efficiency. The corridors of the university bustled with the energy of students, eager to escape the confines of academia. Victor moved through them like a ghost, unnoticed and silent.
Stepping out into the cool embrace of the evening, he felt a subtle quickening in his pulse—the first stirrings of anticipation. The university grounds, with their manicured lawns and ancient trees, faded into the background as he made his way to the parking lot.
The unremarkable SUV, idled patiently in the parking lot, blending into the background as it awaited his arrival. Sliding behind the wheel of his car, Victor allowed himself a moment to breathe. Yet even the familiar scent of leather and the soft hum of the engine were torturous in their constancy. He sighed deeply, ignited the engine, and pulled out of the university parking lot. As he navigated through the city’s veins—each traffic light and turn, brought him closer to his home.
The golden hues of sunset painted the streets, and as each mile passed, the weight of the day lifted slightly, replaced by an eagerness that had become both his anchor and his sail.
By the time he reached his neighborhood, twilight had settled like a soft blanket over the houses. Victor’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, not out of fear or anxiety, but out of a burgeoning excitement for what awaited him at home—the project.
Amidst the gray-scale of his existence, this was the singular beacon beckoning him home each day. It was the only thing that pierced through the numbness, the only thing that painted his world with a semblance of vibrancy. He pulled into his driveway and killed the engine.
The modest bungalow stood before him, the place he had called home for all these years. He got out of his car, and with a determined stride, got to his front porch, his steps hurried.
He turned the key in the lock and stepped into the quiet of his house. Stepping through the front door, the disarray was immediately apparent. Bills and letters formed a disorganized heap on the floor, the kitchen sink was full of unwashed dishes, and cobwebs stretched from corner to corner, adorning shelves and cabinets with delicate, neglected threads.
The walls were lined with family photographs, images of happier days sharing space with framed accolades—degrees, a master’s, a doctorate—each one a relic of ambition and success, that felt like it belonged to someone else.
He made his way to the back room, but stopped with his hand on the knob of the door. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door. It swung open, creaking loudly as it did so. His breath caught in his throat as he stood there, staring.
The humanoid robot lay at the center of the room, upon a Trendelenburg bed. It was a marvel of engineering, even by his estimates. Its sleek limbs and intricate circuitry had been crafted with precision. The placement of each servo and each sensor had been meticulous, blurring the line between machine and life. The synthetic skin was lifelike, with a warmth and texture that nearly replicated that of a human being. His magnum opus, not just a body; but the last glimmer of hope in his world of grief. The only thing that kept him tethered to this life—and it bore the form, of his daughter.
Her features were recreated with accuracy. The contours of its face, the curve of its lips—all meticulously crafted to mirror her image. The culmination of nine months of tireless efforts. Pouring all his grief and longing into its creation, blurring the boundaries between memory and reality.
The robot’s eyes housed optical sensors that mimicked the depth and curiosity of human eyes. The eyes were a perfect match to her own. They remained dark and unblinking, yet seeming to hold a depth both haunting and profound, a window to a soul that wasn’t there.
It was uncanny, almost too perfect, leaving an eerie silence hanging in the air.
He looked away, averting his gaze from the form, shifting his attention to the workbench at the opposite end of the room.
There, resting on a stand, was a solid bronze rod about ten inches long, thirty millimeters thick at its handle, slimming down to a rounded tip. The mysterious woman he had encountered on the dubious internet forum, Blue was her name, had referred to it as a “wand”, attributing its origin to an ancient alien race whose existence on Earth had faded into obscurity.
Initially skeptical, Victor’s analysis had slowly turned doubt into awe. The rod’s properties were unlike anything he had encountered; its design and internal structure, reminiscent of sophisticated micro-architecture. Under the microscope, it revealed a complexity that nearly surpassed earthly engineering—a lattice of circuits and conduits, a marvel of miniaturization and complexity, akin to the most advanced Central Processing Units.
The bronze rod had already informed much of his work on the humanoid form. But it wasn’t just the design that puzzled him; the alloy of metals from which the rod was crafted suggested a modern creation, possibly even with contemporary techniques.
Yet the fellas in radiocarbon dating at the university had presented him with a baffling contradiction. Their analysis indicated that the rod was not a product of recent ingenuity, but an artifact thousands of years old.
The wand was an enigma. It challenged everything Victor thought he knew. At the very least, it convinced him what Blue had been saying was plausible, despite his initial reservations about her. She had spoken with conviction about a power source, one used by the alien beings who supposedly crafted the wand, which could have the capacity to animate the form.
For a fleeting moment, Victor allowed himself to be swept up in the realm of possibility. The thought that this alien technology could be the key to powering his creation was tantalizing. Perhaps it could even be the key to reuniting with his daughter. Could it happen? Could he truly bridge the gap between life and death, reuniting with his daughter?
At that moment, the computer chimed to life. It was a new email from Blue, asking about progress on the wand.
Subject: Progress Update on the Wand
From: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com To: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 08:15:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Victor,
I hope this message finds you well. I’ve been eagerly awaiting an update on your progress. Please share your latest findings with me, doctor. Your insight into this artifact is invaluable, and together, I believe we can unlock its secrets.
Warm regards,
Blue
Subject: Progress Update on the Wand
From: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu To: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 08:45:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Blue,
The wand has indeed proven to be a source of fascination. It indeed served as compelling evidence of the advanced technology you’ve described. Its micro-architecture has inspired a series of breakthroughs in my work on the form. The precision of its circuitry has allowed me to enact new pathways for energy flow and mechanisms for control that I had previously thought impossible.
The alloy of the metal exhibits incredible properties. It possesses a resilience that withstands extreme conditions without degradation, and its conductive capabilities are enhancing the efficiency of the form’s internal systems beyond my initial simulations.
Your mention of a power source has piqued my curiosity immensely. If this power source exists and can energize such a system, and if we can indeed harness this energy, as you have suggested, we may well be on the brink of a discovery that could redefine the boundaries of science and life itself.
Your knowledge in this area is crucial to me and I am eager to learn more about this power source and explore its potential applications. When you can, please provide more details about this power source. Any information could prove critical to our success.
Warm regards,
Dr. Victor Frank
Subject: The Phoenix - A Meeting Proposal
From: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com To: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 09:30:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Victor,
Yes, as we have discussed previously, the power source you are curious about was known by ancient humans as the “Phoenix”. The information I have is sensitive and far too critical to risk communication over digital channels.
I propose we meet in person to discuss the full extent of the power source and its capabilities. There is much to share, and I believe an in-person conversation will allow us to communicate more freely and securely.
I am willing to take a flight to Mombasa, Kenya, to see you where we can meet and exchange our knowledge without the constraints of distance and technology. Please let me know if this arrangement suits you, and we can coordinate the details of our rendezvous.
Looking forward to your reply.
Warm regards,
Blue
Subject: The Phoenix - A Meeting Proposal
From: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu To: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 10:00:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Blue,
Your proposal for an in-person meeting is well-received. I understand the need for discretion and agree that the sensitive nature of the “Phoenix” warrants a secure exchange.
Mombasa will be an ideal location for our discussion. I am prepared to make the arrangements to meet you there. Please inform me of your travel plans and preferred meeting details so that I can ensure our rendezvous goes smoothly.
I look forward to our collaboration and the enlightenment it will bring.
Warm regards,
Dr. Victor Frank
Subject: Finalizing Our Mombasa Meeting
From: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com To: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 10:30:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Victor,
Thank you for your prompt response. I am pleased to hear that you are amenable to the meeting.
Let us finalize the details. I propose we meet on:
Date: Friday, 28th January 2044 Time: 1:00 PM EAT Location: Serenity Beach Resort, Mombasa - Private Cabana #7.
The resort offers a tranquil and private setting that I believe will be conducive to our discussion on the “Phoenix.” Please confirm if this is agreeable to you.
I await your confirmation.
Warm regards,
Blue
Subject: Finalizing Our Mombasa Meeting
From: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu To: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2044 11:00:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Blue,
The arrangements at Serenity Beach Resort are perfect. I confirm our meeting on Friday, 28th January 2044, at 1:00 PM EAT, Private Cabana #7.
I appreciate the measures you are taking for our security and privacy. This meeting promises to be a significant step forward in our project.
I look forward to our discussion and the insights it will yield.
Warm regards,
Dr. Victor Frank
Victor found himself standing in a desert amidst a sea of golden sand, the grains shimmering like tiny suns under an azure sky. The air was thick with the scent of myrrh and incense, a fragrance that seemed to whisper secrets of a time long forgotten. Before him rose a colossal bird, its feathers an iridescent tapestry of flames, dancing between hues of crimson and gold. The Phoenix.
Its eyes, twin orbs of molten gold, held him in a gaze that pierced through the veils of reality, reaching into the depths of his soul. The bird’s cry resonated in the air. It spread its majestic wings, enveloping the horizon in its embrace.
The world around Victor began to blur, the sands swirling upward. He reached out, fingers grazing its crimson feathers, feeling its warmth. The Phoenix began to beat its wings, each movement sending waves of heat across the expanse. The air itself seemed to ignite; the sky was painted with streaks of fire that mirrored the bird’s plumage. Flames leaped and twirled around the Phoenix, a living inferno whirling upwards. The flames reached out to Victor, threatening to consume him.
Victor jolted awake, his hand still outstretched in the darkness of his room, the sensation of the Phoenix’s heat still tingling on his skin.
He blinked the vision away, his eyes adjusting to the serene hues of dawn filtering through the sheer curtains of the resort room. The space was a blend of modern luxury and tropical charm, with walls adorned in soft cream tones, complementing the rich mahogany furniture.
A gentle breeze whispered through the open balcony door, carrying with it the faint sound of waves caressing the shore. He lay for a moment on the plush king-sized bed, its crisp white linens now tousled from sleep. The room was spacious, housing a cozy sitting area with a plush sofa facing a stone fireplace; above which—hung a painting of a serene seascape. The morning air cool and fresh.
With a deep breath, Victor pushed himself up, his muscles protesting the sudden movement after a night of restless dreams. He padded across the soft carpeted floor, past the sleek glass-topped table littered with notes and sketches of his project, and entered the bathroom.
The bathroom was an oasis of calm, featuring a large walk-in shower enclosed by frosted glass that caught the morning light in a dance of colors. Victor turned on the faucet, letting the water heat up as he shed his clothes.
As the warm water cascaded over him, his mind churned with a maelstrom of emotions. Anticipation coursed through his veins, mingled with a thread of anxiety that tightened around his heart.
Today’s meeting with Blue was not just another academic exchange; the possibility that it could lead him to the Phoenix, to what might help bridge the gap between life and death, both exhilarated and terrified him.
His hands moved mechanically as he lathered soap over his skin, but his thoughts were far from the routine of his morning ablutions. He knew that today could change everything.
Amidst the steam and the steady rhythm of falling water, a shadow of doubt crept into his resolve. This project had become his obsession, but what if it led to nothing? What if the Phoenix was merely just a myth, an unattainable dream that he was chasing? Was he chasing ghosts? Allowing grief to cloud his judgment? The thought was a jagged pill to swallow, leaving a bitter taste of uncertainty.
He paused, his hand resting against the cool tile as the water continued its descent. The image of his daughter’s smile flashed before his eyes, a bittersweet reminder of all that he had lost and all that he yearned to recover. The pain was a constant companion, one that he had hoped to silence with his work.
As quickly as the doubt arose, it was quashed by the unwavering fire within him. He could not—would not, give up on this hope of a chance to have his daughter back. With a renewed sense of purpose, Victor rinsed away the suds, stepping out of the shower with a steely determination etched upon his features.
He arrived at the designated meeting spot, the beachfront cabana. The ocean’s murmur provided a soothing backdrop to the already serene ambiance of the place. The midday sun cast a golden glow over the scene, painting everything in hues of warmth and promise.
The aroma of pilau, rich with spices and savory notes, filled the air. He sat at a table; his gaze lost in the rhythmic dance of the ocean waves. He had arrived early, the weight of the impending meeting settling heavily upon his shoulders. He heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching and looked up to find a woman standing in front of him.
Dr. Frank’s pulse quickened as he took in her appearance. Her hair cascaded in a sleek, shoulder-length bob—a vivid hue of blue framing her face, each strand mirroring the vibrancy of the ocean. And when she moved, the waves danced.
She stood with hands at her sides, as if poised for action.
Their eyes met, a sharp intelligence shining within them that belied her casual demeanor. Her eyes, a shade darker than her hair, were like pools of the deepest blue. As Victor met her gaze, he felt as though she was peering into the very core of his being, seeing past the façade of the scholar and into the raw edges of his soul.
There was a weight to her stare, a sense of profound understanding that both unnerved and intrigued him. It was as if she had witnessed the turning of the world, the rise and fall of empires, and the silent sorrows of countless souls. Her name, suited her.
“Professor Victor?” she asked as she extended her hand with a nod of acknowledgment, nudging him from his stupor. Victor abruptly rose to his feet. “Ms. Blue,” he replied, extending his hand in greeting. She took his hand, her grip firm, and then gracefully took the seat across from him.
“I trust you had a restful night?” she said, her voice smooth and confident as they sat down.
“As restful as can be had,” he replied, offering a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
The waiter approached their table, a polite smile gracing his features as he stood ready with his notepad.
“Good afternoon, may I take your orders?” he politely asked.
Familiar with the local cuisine, Victor took the lead.
“I’ll have the Pilau,” he said confidently.
Blue glanced at the menu before setting it down. A look of adventurous curiosity crossing her features. “I’ll have the same,” she decided, eager to experience the traditional dish that Victor had endorsed.
With their orders placed, the waiter retreated, leaving them in a bubble of privacy amidst the restaurant’s gentle hum of activity.
As they waited for their meal, Dr. Frank observed Blue more closely. She was wearing a patterned navy-blue chiffon blouse that clung to her frame—the soft rustle of the blouse echoing the whisper of distant waves. She had paired it with structured charcoal gray wool trousers, impeccably tailored, and black closed-toe shoes, their heels modest yet sturdy. Minimalistic jewelry adorned her wrists and ears—a silver bracelet that caught the sunlight and small stud earrings in the shape of a crescent moon. A lightweight cover-up was ready to shield her from the Mombasa heat. The dark hues accentuating her confident demeanor.
She was unconventional, her bright blue hair and enigmatic presence not fitting the image he had imagined of her.
She caught him looking at her and asked, “What?”
Startled, he confessed, “Oh… my bad. It’s just that… you’re not what I expected.”
“And what did you expect, doctor?” she queried.
“I suppose I expected a scientist.” He replied.
Blue smiled, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Scientists come in all shapes and sizes, Professor,” she replied. “We’re not all lab coats and glasses.”
A silence settled over the table, but the Dr. continued to observe her. She was a foreigner in these parts, yet there was an ease about her that suggested she was no stranger to adapting to new environments.
She sipped some water that she had brought with her as she looked at him. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she remarked casually, looking towards the horizon where the sea met the sky in a perfect line.
Victor followed her gaze, nodding in agreement. “It is. The ocean has a way of making one’s problems seem insignificant in comparison to its vastness.”
She smiled, appreciating his poetic observation.
“Yet, here we are, pursuing matters that feel anything but insignificant,” He continued.
He returned her smile with one of his own.
“True. But sometimes, it’s the small pieces that complete the larger puzzle.”
Victor caught the hint of metaphor in her words and decided to play along. “Speaking of puzzles, I’ve been working on one myself,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “It involves an ancient legend—perhaps you’ve heard of it? The Phoenix?”
“I may have come across it in my travels,” she replied.
He nodded, “Fascinating story. I’ve always wondered if there was any truth to it.” She watched him silently, wondering where he was going with this.
“The Phoenix,” Victor pressed on, “is said to be more than just a myth. Some believe it’s a source of immense power.”
Blue’s gaze sharpened. “And what do you believe, Professor?”
“I believe that if such a thing exists, it’s worth pursuing.”
There was a pause. Blue leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “And if I were to say that I might know something about it?”
Victor’s heart raced. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. But before he could respond, the waiter arrived with their pilau, the clatter of plates breaking the tension.
“Your meals, sir, madam,” the waiter announced cheerfully, oblivious to the conversation he had interrupted.
“Asante,” Victor said.
“Karibuni!” The waiter said, bowing his head slightly before turning and departing.
As the aroma of the spiced rice filled their senses, Victor and Blue exchanged a look—a silent agreement that their conversation was far from over.
The Pilau before them was a feast, but it was clear that their appetites were secondary to the purpose that had brought them together.
Victor leaned forward, his gaze intense on Blue. “If we are to find the Phoenix, how do we begin?” he asked.
Blue’s expression was serious, her eyes reflecting a depth of knowledge. “We’ll need an artifact,” she said. “A guide to lead us to our destination.”
He caught the implication in her words. “You don’t know where the Phoenix is?” he observed, almost as an accusation as it was a statement of fact.
She met his gaze squarely. “No, I don’t,” she admitted. “But the object I speak of can get us there.”
“A map?”
“Of sorts,” Blue replied cryptically. “You’ll see.”
“Okay, and how do we get a hold of this… guide?” he asked.
In response, Blue reached into her bag and pulled out a slim file, its contents obscured by the nondescript cover. She slid it across the table towards him with a deliberate motion.
Victor took the file and opened it, his eyes scanning the documents inside. Maps, notes, photographs.
As he looked up from the file, he saw Blue watching him, her expression an enigmatic blend of confidence and anticipation. It was clear she had set many things in motion, and he sensed he was about to become an integral part of her plans.
Victor closed the file and put it down on the table. He sat back in his chair and let out a long breath.
“Wales!?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
“Yes,” Blue confirmed, her tone steady. “The artifact is in the possession of a wealthy tycoon. He’s known for his collection of rare and supposedly mythical items. The guide we need is just one of his many treasures.”
Victor frowned, the reality of their situation settling in. After a silence, he said, “I’ve poured everything into my project financially. I’m stretched thin. A trip to Wales is beyond my means.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Your transport arrangements will be taken care of.”
He gave her a quizzical look and continued, a note of frustration in his voice, “Even despite that, I can’t afford to purchase this artifact, let alone begin to understand how I’m supposed to convince such a man to part with a prized possession.”
Blue’s expression softened slightly, but her eyes remained resolute. “Who said anything about purchasing?” she asked gently.
The implication hit Victor like a wave. She was suggesting they steal it.
“What?” he asked. Her gaze remained steady on his. “I can’t,” he protested, shaking his head. “I’m a scientist, not a thief.”
“Victor,” she began again, her voice soft yet filled with a fervent passion, “ This artifact…it could be the key to everything you’ve been striving for. You’ve dedicated your life to science, this…this could change the world.”
Victor felt the weight of her words, the temptation they carried. She was offering him a chance to bring to fruition his work. It was wrong, it was dangerous—but it was also the closest he’d come to hope in a long time.
“But the means,” he countered, “to deceive, to steal—it goes against everything I stand for.”
Blue nodded, acknowledging his concern. “I understand your hesitation,” she said. “But consider this: throughout history, how many discoveries have been made in the shadows, away from prying eyes? Sometimes the greatest creations and inventions are made in secret, away from those who would suppress or misuse them.”
Blue saw the hesitation in Victor’s eyes and knew she needed to press further. She leaned closer, her eyes locked on his. “You have the chance to be part of something extraordinary.”
“Victor,” she said, her voice a blend of empathy and determination, “sometimes, we must venture into the shadows to bring light back into our lives.”
Victor listened to Blue’s impassioned plea, each word tugging at the frayed edges of his resolve. But as he sat there, the weight of her arguments pressing upon him, clarity emerged from within the fog of his grief.
He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a scrape that cut through the tension between them. “No,” he said firmly, his voice carrying a finality that surprised even him, “I didn’t sign up for this.”
Blue looked up at him, her expression a mix of desperation and determination. “Victor, please…”
“I’m sorry,” Victor said, softer now, “I can’t be part of this.”
As Victor walked away, his mind was a tumult of conflicting emotions. There was an undeniable pull towards Blue and her…and her what…he didn’t even know what. But there was something about her that didn’t quite fit. Her knowledge was extensive, yes, but it was her approach that left him questioning. Was she truly who she claimed to be? Who was she even really?
The more he thought about it, the more his suspicion only deepened.
There was a tempest brewing within him, a clash of hope and skepticism that threatened to tear him asunder. On one hand, there was the tantalizing possibility that Blue’s words could lead him to the Phoenix. To having what he wanted. The mere thought sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins, igniting a spark of excitement that he had not felt in ages.
Yet, on the other hand, his academic mind waged war against the ethics of it. Theft. Robbery. Deceit. And who knows what else? What had he gotten himself into?
The internal struggle was palpable, etching lines of conflict across his brow as he weighed Blue’s words against the harsh light of reality. Hope beckoned him with its siren call, offering a balm to the ache that had nestled in his heart since Sophie’s passing. But skepticism held him back, a tether to the rational world he knew so well.
Victor realized that this moment was a crossroads, one that could define the rest of his life. To follow Blue’s lead was to step into the unknown, to risk everything on the chance of a miracle. It was a gamble, but he wondered if perhaps some gambles were worth taking.
No, this wasn’t what he had signed up for. He was going to pack his bags and head back to Nairobi.
He found his suitcase and packed up his things, hurriedly folding his clothes and placing them in the case. Zipping up his suitcase, he pocketed his ID, his passport, and his slim profile wallet, carrying his cards and a few paper notes. Suitcase in hand, Victor left the room, closing the door behind him. He turned the key and pocketed it.
A soft breeze greeted him, carrying faint notes of chlorine from the nearby pool. Victor’s footsteps crunched lightly on the gravel pathway, his suitcase rolling silently beside him. He passed by the cabana where guests continued to enjoy their meals, laughter mingling with the aroma of freshly prepared pilau. He looked to where he and Blue had sat, but she wasn’t there.
Ahead, the main entrance awaited, framed by towering columns and adorned with intricate carvings. He paused briefly to take in the sight, savoring the last moments of peace before venturing back into the world beyond the resort’s embrace.
With a last glance over his shoulder, casting one last look at the resort, he steeled himself, and, adjusting his grip on his suitcase, he stepped through the archway.
After checking out, the resort staff bid him farewell with warm smiles and well-wishes.
He made his way to the airport, the tropical heat clinging to him like a last embrace from Mombasa City. At Moi International Airport, he navigated through the check-in process. The airport was abuzz with travelers, but Victor moved through them like a ghost, his thoughts already miles away. As he sat in the airport, the boarding call for his flight to Nairobi echoed through the terminal.
Victor settled into his seat and the plane took off for the city. The flight itself was uneventful, a quick hop that bridged the gap between Kenya’s coast and its bustling capital. As the plane ascended, Victor watched Mombasa shrink away beneath him, daydreams of what-ifs growing smaller with each passing second. He thought of the Phoenix, of the artifact’s promise, of the strange woman he had just had a meal with only hours ago. He thought of what was waiting for him back home; thought of Sophie and with the thought, he felt a pang of loss.
From his window seat, Victor watched as Mombasa’s palm trees gave way to Nairobi’s urban sprawl. Upon landing at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, he collected his luggage and stepped out into the familiar chaos of Nairobi. Landing in Nairobi brought a sense of apathy with it, the thought of returning to the same old life that felt utterly empty without them.
Victor hailed an Uber for the final leg of his journey. He requested they bypass the bustling city and head straight to his house, a place that once echoed with laughter but now stood as a solemn monument to his loss.
As he arrived at his home, the sight of the familiar walls was both comforting and constricting. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house was just as he had left it. A chaotic array of papers, tools, and memories scattered about—a testament to the frenzied work that had consumed him since the accident. The silence around him was deafening, filled with the echoes of laughter and life that once were. His home, once a sanctuary of warmth and love, now stood as a mausoleum to his sorrows.
He walked through the disarray with a heavy heart, each step taking him closer to the back room where his greatest creation and deepest sorrow lived. Pushing open the door, Victor was greeted by the sight of the form—Sophie’s form—still and silent in the center of the room. The face, a perfect replica of his daughter’s, looked back at him with unseeing eyes.
He approached the it hesitantly; reaching out and tracing the contours of her face with a trembling hand. The synthetic skin was cool to the touch, yet so lifelike that for a moment, he could almost believe she would wake up.
He settled into the chair by the workbench facing the form. He crossed his arms, and let his gaze linger on the creation before him, as his thumb absentmindedly twisted his wedding ring around his finger.
Laughter rang through the air like music. Sophie, with her boundless energy, was chasing butterflies. Miranda watched her with a tender smile, then turned to Victor, her eyes a rich dark brown.
“Do you ever wonder what she’ll become?” Miranda asked, her voice soft with wonder.
Victor looked at Sophie, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and feeling a swell of pride, said, “Whatever she wants to be, she’ll have the world at her feet.”
Miranda nodded, her hand finding his. “She has your determination,” she said. “And your heart.”
Sophie ran back to them then, with her hands clasped together. “Look, Daddy! I got it! I got it!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight.
Victor kneeled beside her. “Oh, let me see.” “No Daddy, it’ll fly away.” She said, pulling her hands away with a frown of disbelief on her face. Victor chuckled, “Oh it’s a peek, c’mon, let daddy see.” “Okay.” She said and opened her hand a tiny bit, “Wow, she’s so pretty!” Victor intoned, “Just…like…you!” He said as he tickled her. “Daddy! Daddy! Stop, it’ll fly away!” She said, giggling away. “Now, are you gonna be a good girl and set it free?” Victor asked, “But daddy I don’t wanna, it’s my butterfly.” She protested. Victor looked up at Miranda with a pleading look, who squatted beside him, poking Sophie as she said, “Hey, you wanna know how you know something is yours?” Sophie nodded her head vigorously. “You have to let it go.”
Then CRASH…then WATER…then DARKNESS. “Dad, I’m scared!” Then a scream rang out.
Victor jolted, returning to the present, his heart racing. How long had he been sitting here? He wondered. His eyes focused on the robot body and he sat there staring at it, wondering why he had chosen this path.
The computer chimed. It was an email from Blue. He hesitated for a moment before opening the email, a sense of foreboding settling over him.
The message from Blue read:
Subject: A Truth Unveiled
From: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com To: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu
Date: Sun, 31 Jan 2044 08:15:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Victor,
I trust this email finds you in good health and spirits. I know our last encounter might have left an unpleasant taste in your mouth. Your integrity is admirable. However, I believe some matters demand necessary sacrifice.
Consider one final meeting. Let us convene at the Nairobi National Museum tomorrow at midday.
Awaiting your response,
Blue
Victor leaned back in his chair. He looked at the form. He knew there was no going back to the life that he had. Even if he were to try, then what!? All he knew was that at that moment in time, he was completely, and utterly, alone.
Subject: No More Secrets
From: Dr. Victor Frank vfrank@cuea.edu To: Blue blue@mysterydomain.com
Date: Sun, 31 Jan 2044 08:45:42 PM (GMT+01:00)
Dear Blue,
Your message has been received. While I remain skeptical of your clandestine suggestion, I feel compelled to hear you out.
I will attend the meeting at the Nairobi National Museum café tomorrow at noon. However, understand that scientific integrity and the moral principles that govern my actions guide my pursuit.
And Ms. Blue, I want full transparency from you.
Regards,
Victor
After emailing Blue, Victor leaned back in his chair, the weight of the day’s events finally catching up with him. His body felt heavy with exhaustion, each thought and movement sluggish and labored. He stood up from his desk, his eyes barely able to stay open. As he left the room, he stood at the threshold of the door, and turning back to face the form, he whispered, “I’ll fix this.” And with that closed the door and made his way to the bedroom.
He collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. His mind, still teeming with thoughts of the Phoenix and Blue’s cryptic message, gradually quieted as fatigue overtook him. His breathing slowed, and within minutes, he was asleep. And he slept like he hadn’t slept, in months.
Victor slipped behind the wheel of his car, the familiar scent of leather and a hint of engine oil greeting him. He started the engine, the low purr offering a momentary comfort amidst his swirling thoughts.
The morning sun cast a golden hue over Nairobi as Victor set out for the museum. The city was already buzzing with activity; its streets thrummed with the rhythm of daily life as people bustled about, starting their day.
As he drove, the cityscape unfolded before him—a mosaic of modern skyscrapers and timeless nature. The Mugumo and Mkungu trees were in full bloom, their vibrant colors a stark contrast against the concrete and glass.
Victor’s route took him past landmarks that held memories of days spent with Miranda and Sophie. He drove by the university where he had taught countless students the wonders of science. Later on, he passed by Uhuru Park, where they had picnicked under the shade of mighty fig trees and where he had proposed to Miranda.
The traffic was light, and he made good time, but his mind was elsewhere. He rehearsed potential conversations with Blue, each scenario playing out differently in his head. Despite his resolve to remain detached, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope that Blue’s evidence might lead to a breakthrough.
As he neared the museum, Victor’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. The familiar façade of the building came into view, its walls holding centuries of history and knowledge. He parked his car and sat there for a second, steeling himself for what was to come. This meeting could change everything or nothing at all. Either way, he was ready to face it head-on.
He stepped out of his car, the museum’s grandeur looming before him. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the historic structure, its walls a reminder of all he had lived through. It was a windy day, but sunny, with clouds overhead. He took a deep breath, and strangely had the feeling as if he could almost breathe again.
He locked his car and began his walk to the café, his footsteps echoing on the cobblestone path. The museum gardens were lush and well-tended, a serene oasis amidst the city’s hustle. Sculptures and artifacts dotted the landscape.
With each step towards the café, he felt a mix of determination and caution. As he approached, he saw Blue already seated at a table outside, her posture relaxed yet alert. She wore an azure-blue dress, its subtle floral pattern mirroring the museum’s serene ambiance. The fabric flowed gracefully. Her brown pumps peeked out from beneath the hem, practical yet elegant. A black neckband adorned her neck, the silver crescent moon catching the light as she sipped her coffee.
Victor approached, and their eyes met. For a moment, there was a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of their meeting. The Dr. approached with measured steps, his mind racing with questions yet to be asked.
“Victor,” Blue greeted him with a nod as he arrived at the table.
“Blue,” he replied, his voice steady despite the uncertainty churning inside him.
“Thanks for giving me a second chance, Victor.”
Victor shrugged, blushing a little. He took a seat opposite her, the wrought-iron chair cool against his skin. The café was quiet this time of day, with only a few other patrons scattered about, lost in their own worlds.
Victor and Blue sat in silence for a moment, each assessing the other. The air was thick with anticipation; words hung unspoken between them like threads waiting to be woven into conversation.
“It’s a beautiful place.” She said, breaking the silence.
“Hmm?” Victor grunted.
“The museum.” She said.
“Oh yes,” he rejoined. “Quite.”
“Did you ever come here with your parents when you were young?” she ventured.
“No, I’m an orphan, but I used to bring myself here when I was young—and had made some money hauling luggage for people. That was back when I used to live on the streets.”
She raised an eyebrow in shock, but Victor hurriedly continued.
“You said you have evidence,” he began, his gaze unwavering. “I’m here to see it.”
Blue gazed at him, taken slightly aback by the frustration in his voice. “You say you’re a scientist,” he continued, his tone measured. “Yet you speak of legends and artifacts.”
“I thought you said it’s worth pursuing.” She fired back.
“And I stand by that, it’s just… it’s rare that science and myth intersect so… conveniently,” he explained.
Blue met his gaze, unflinching. “I understand your doubt,” she said calmly. “But the world is full of wonders that science has yet to explain. I’ve dedicated my life to exploring those fringes where the known meets the unknown.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small notebook, worn at the edges but filled with meticulous notes and diagrams. “Here,” she offered, passing it to him. “Look for yourself.”
Victor flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the detailed observations and complex calculations that filled them. Blue was no amateur; the depth of her knowledge was apparent in every carefully penned line.
“Impressive,” he admitted, handing back the notebook. “But knowledge alone doesn’t prove one’s intentions.”
Blue nodded, accepting the notebook. “True,” she conceded. “But perhaps over time, I can earn your trust.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed, searching hers for any hint of deceit. “Even if what you say is true, if we get caught, it’s not just a simple matter of returning what we’ve taken. We’d be engaging in criminal activities on foreign soil. The legal ramifications alone would be severe. We could face extradition, trial, and possible incarceration. And the damage to our reputations and careers. The academic community would never trust us again.”
Blue met his gaze, her eyes steady. “I’m aware of the risks, Victor. But consider what we stand to gain—the Phoenix could revolutionize our understanding of energy and the universe itself. We have to weigh that against the risks. And let’s not forget what that could mean for you, for your project.”
There was a silence.
“And how much do you know about that?” Victor asked, suspicion lacing his words.
“Just what you’ve told me.” She said, her eyes giving nothing away.
“Hmm, I don’t believe you.” Victor whispered.
“Okay. I know what it is Victor. And what it means to you.” She confessed.
“And how do you know that?”
She kept silent. ’
“Have you been spying on me?”
“Victor. I’m a very cautious person. I like to know who I’m working with, so I admit I have carried out my investigations on you and yes, I know more about your project than I initially let on.” She confessed.
Victor was stunned, but more than that, he was angry. Blue, seeing the anger in his eyes, said, “Look, I’m not judging you Victor. At this point in time, our interests intersect. You help me get to the Phoenix and I’ll help you get your daughter back. You have my word.”
At that point, the waiter came to the table. They ordered coffees and sat in silence; Victor’s mind was preoccupied even as Blue watched him like a hawk. The waiter returned with the coffee and some mandazis.
As the minutes ticked away, the silence became deafening.
“You haven’t touched your coffee,” she said finally. His cup was full and cold, and hers was drained. Still, he said nothing. The waiter returned with the bill. Victor pulled out his wallet and paid. “Will there be anything else?” asked the waiter. “No thank you,” was the response from Blue, and Victor waved him away.
The silence continued. Blue gazed at him, his expression unreadable.
“Shall we walk?” she offered.
They made their way into the museum, Victor paying the charge at the desk, Blue letting him. “Quite the gentleman,” she remarked. They declined the tour guide; they wanted privacy.
They walked around, admiring the artifacts and artworks on display. It was a weekday and no school tour was on, so they were mostly alone. They kept silent, for a while; but finally, Victor spoke up.
“I’ve never done this before.” He admitted, “But something tells me that’s not the case with you.”
Blue leaned in, her voice a confident whisper. “I’ve orchestrated operations of this nature before. I have contacts and contingencies in place. Our approach will be meticulous and calculated; we won’t act rashly.”
“I’ve carried out extensive reconnaissance and meticulously detailed every aspect of the plan—escape routes, legal safeguards, and even diplomatic contacts who owe me favors. We’re not going into this blindly.”
“And if we’re still caught?” he asked.
Blue’s eyes were resolute. “Then we enact our contingency plans. I’ve ensured that there are layers of plausible deniability built into our alibis. And should we need it, I have a legal team on standby, ready to defend us with the full force of their expertise.”
Victor nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. Blue’s assurances provided a semblance of security, though he knew the risks could never be entirely mitigated.
“What about unexpected complications?” he asked.
“Foremost, we stay calm. Panic is our greatest enemy in situations that deviate from the plan,” she began.
“We’ll have a communication channel open at all times, a secure line directly to one another. In case of an issue, report it immediately, and we will adapt on the fly.”
Victor listened intently, nodding along. “And if we’re separated or communication is compromised?”
“In that case,” Blue continued, “we each have a copy of the operation’s blueprint, complete with alternate routes and rendezvous points. We’ll have to study them extensively beforehand so that we know what to do in case of anything. We also have non-verbal signals established for quick, silent coordination. If you’re compromised, try to destroy any devices integral to the operation. There’s no point in giving the prosecution more evidence to go on.”
She paused, ensuring Victor was absorbing the information. “Lastly, we have a safe house set up close to the operation site. If things go south, we regroup there and reassess our next move. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she said.
Inside, Victor was a tempest of conflicting emotions. Blue’s assurances gave a sense of the possibility of success. Yet, the risks loomed large, casting long shadows over his thoughts.
He felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him, the knowledge that every decision could have far-reaching consequences. The potential of what he could gain by finding the Phoenix was tantalizing, but so too was the fear of failure and its aftermath.
Victor’s mind churned with scenarios, each one playing out like a different act in a drama. He considered Blue’s experience and the meticulousness of her planning, which offered a sense of security. But he also couldn’t ignore the small voice of caution whispering reminders of what could go wrong.
He imagined what Miranda would say if she were here now. She had always been his sounding board, offering perspective when he was too close to a problem. He could almost hear her gentle voice, encouraging him to take risks for the right reasons.
He sat on a bench. Blue followed suit. As they sat there in silence, Victor reminisced. He recalled Sophie’s bright eyes, filled with curiosity and wonder, and her smile. He recalled that last day they had together; calling the school to lie about why she couldn’t go that day. She was a senior, and had to catch up with her math, but he wanted to spend time with her, and share his special day with her.
As he sat there, Victor realized that this was more than just a professional gamble; it was a personal crossroads. The choice to proceed would mark a definitive step away from his past—a past marred by loss and grief—and towards an uncertain future.
With each breath, he sought to steady his racing heart, to find a balance between hope and realism.
“Bitter.” He said.
“What?” she asked.
Victor looked across at Blue with newfound determination. “Let’s do this,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of his decision. She reached out and placed her hand on his. “We’ll face whatever comes together Victor.” She said. “I promise.”
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