The Underworlds

8 Days to the Sixth Attraction

Each time Sophie left the Cold, the only natural world of the Multiverse with physical structure and unity, she had done so at her own impulse. Liam alone knew other worlds with rocks, bubbles, or monsters were all made “physical,” thanks to her power to warp reality into a more digestible construct to her mind. The mind of humans, even one such as the Attractor, was unable to perceive words with pure energy.

She had channeled her strange gift of power and pushed open the doors to the Underworlds. Sophie had summoned or slipped into her father’s unusual reality using exceptional, previously unknown brain waves. This time the shift was painfully different. She had heard the music of the crooner, an echo that resurfaced from deep in the Multiverse, weakening the divide between worlds. Then there was a disgusting darkness and the sensation of humid oil of falling deep into a pit of murky water.

Her world, the Cold, vanished as she felt hundreds of new emotions thrown her way.

Like spirits trying to enter the physical world by swooshing inside of a body, the power fought inside of her like ants crawling up a leg. As they crossed under her invisible chest, they hurt her; it felt as though she were standing too close to speakers at a rock concert. She stood nowhere, alone, and vulnerable. This wasn’t kind nor pleasant; it was pain and hurt.

Had she floated in her human body, the vulnerable girl would have passed out from the trauma. The human body was astonishing in that way. Past a particular limit, its systems began to shut down. Yet here she was, a raw nerve unable to break free using her extraordinary gift, and denied even the commonplace gift to lose consciousness in the face of what seemed like endless torture. In other days the Attractor’s power was a gift, today it was an obligation. Even through the haze of agony, she knew this must have something to do with her unasked-for power and responsibility. Sophie was unclear how long the vortex of emotion lasted, but it felt like an eternity; a maddening eternity.

To describe how she felt, she could only imagine a lighthouse guardian in the dead of a hurricane. Waves crashed around her in her lighthouse of strength, with stones that should shatter, but yet, the structure stood.

In time, immaterial here, any other person would have gone mad, but not Sophie. Deep in her heart was a simple kernel of enormous certitude. She knew one thing: nothing, not even this Multiverse could confuse what really slept at her core. Nothing was more straightforward. She just reminded herself of her father’s face, his smile, his love. She imagined his deformed body and his smile as he tried to hide his vulnerability while endlessly fixing that stupid white house inside of his artificial, digital world. Laurent loved her more than any human had ever loved another. His admiration for his daughter was boundless. Sophie, only 12-years-old, had one single purpose, and it wasn’t the Multiverse or even herself. Yet again, she was far away, but her father needed her. For a moment, Sophie imagined Doctor Shin speaking, in reality, telling her father that she was gone, and the pain broke a crystal deep in her. She could juggle images of the accident, her brother and that pushed the pain aside.

Yet here she was, lost.

She needed to resonate and cry, she knew how but was hesitant to open that door.

The pain returned.

In her mind’s eye, she saw a lake in Northern Wisconsin. On one side of the water, one little piling stood along the shoreline with a single boat moored to it. In the back stood a large house not unlike Laurent’s Bayou bed and breakfast. Laurent, undamaged and whole of body, was fixing the boat, a box of tools by his side. His hair was white, and he appeared older than Sophie remembered. The front door of the house opened, and a mature Sophie walked out holding a baby in one hand. From behind her, a young boy barely five-years-old rushed out and ran to the water.

“Let me help, grandpa!” he said, calling Laurent.

The vision hurt, but it was a bittersweet pain. This was her own child.

She heard a loud fracturing sound as if nearby ice was breaking.

All Sophie wanted was to see Laurent happy one more time. One last time. He would play the finale and would win, she knew it. Emilio did not have the heart to deny him this joy. She would then travel to his world, hold his hands, and tell him she was now financially set. She knew he would feel his life was over. Laurent was grasping to life just for that purpose: her well-being. If she could lie convincingly enough and tell him that he could safely let her go now, perhaps even smile, he would die. Sophie knew he would go see her mom. The Multiverse, the first time she met her, had displayed a triangle of power lines where her mother and father had stood at two of the lines’ convergences.

That was when she knew, and that the Multiverse did as well, the only purpose of her bright young life. As images of this pure emotion filtered in, it pushed all other matters to the side. Luckily, she did not have eyes to cry from.

In her mind’s eye was a boy, he jumped at Laurent and hugged him.

There were more cracking sounds, more energy, and then there was light.

***

In a different part of the Underworlds, far from Sophie echoed, “Sweet one?” The soft words were those of her stranded inner companion. The Oldest had waited, patiently, but after some hesitation, spoke. The creature heard no response. Liam knew something was significantly wrong; he needed to be careful, humble, and compose himself. He felt cold for a couple of hundred hours, then he was worried for a hundred more days. The wise mentor was unable to know if these emotions he was feeling originated from himself or Sophie. The Oldest saw flashes of light, felt waves upon waves of emotions followed by other strange disturbances. His mind was overwhelmed as if Sophie were no longer present to translate what was around for him. He was lost somewhere below the universes. He was alone. Liam did not care; in his long life, he learned patience.

“Young one?” he ventured. “Sophie?”

There was noise, an explosion and then several long whistles. Any other living creature would have panicked, but the Oldest wasn’t ordinary. His patience and calm were legendary. He began to think of positive things. For quite some time, he was lost in complete chaos of imagery he was unable to distinguish.

Then he heard loud cracking sounds, and it was as if a brilliant gem or the Big Bang itself had created a light in the darkness. He willed himself closer, slipping toward it like a wraith in the darkness of the night. Finally, after flooding his mind with the girl’s smile, he was able to distinguish a single word, it came distinctly from Sophie, “No!”

It was a resounding shout.

The girl was alive, he knew it, felt it.

Liam hesitated, wondering if he should yell her name, but knew better and remained silent. The powers at play here were humbling. He was at best a guide, not a piece of this giant chessboard.

“No,” she repeated in a vortex of sounds. Her words could barely be distinguished by the flow of raw power. Liam felt somewhat reassured: by its’ tone, the single negative word was not indicative of fear. Sophie was, in her too-famous way, refusing to do something. “No,” she said a third time, clearly pushing back against something or someone. This was a command, not an observation.

Liam was unable to know what came next, but it nearly shredded his mind. This felt like he was in a washing machine pushed off a cliff, tumbling to the ground. He stayed in a field of power, enveloped by energy and light flashes for what felt like an eternity. The creature knew better than panic. He began meditating and closed his mind’s eyes while he waited as the storm raged around him.

It was endless.

There was cracking noises, yells.

Then, the same way a feeling is born deep inside, his core began to shake. It was getting filled with undefined emotions. Then, the power took form. Liam felt a surge of pure pride in his student and friend. Only one person could be the source, it was the Attractor. She was there doing something Liam felt would make his mind explode.

“No!” ordered Sophie. “Do not touch my friends,” she yelled. “I will handle this.” Her words to the Multiverse itself were too large to comprehend. Liam was once more overwhelmed with pride as he realized Sophie was facing the Multiverse, conversing with it and siding with humanity.

Finally, Sophie spoke to him directly, “Liam, we must go back.” He was in no position to even respond. The Attractor had, for lack of a better word, arrived.

“There,” she pointed in the vortex of colors. “Round 31.”

He cried; nothing less made sense. He lost his composure and frankly did not care. His tears, if they existed in this place, were filled with joy, pride, and happiness.

He could die.

He did not.

“The Attractor . . . .” he whispered to himself.

“Liam,” the young girl corrected him, “just Sophie, call me Sophie. My name is the only thing that remains from my mother.”

Liam knew better, he shut the fuck up.