"Civilization was in the midst of massive upheaval and social unrest as the wrath of climate change came to bear upon them all in the late 21st Century. But the fate of humanity was forever changed in the 22nd when The Bleed was first discovered. The theory concerning the existence of parallel universes, a multiverse if you will, had been long debated, the discovery of The Bleed suddenly made it a scientific fact. In layman's terms, The Bleed was connective tissue, a membrane, between all the universes that ostensibly kept them apart.

It took 100 years for us to discover how to breach it and create the means of traveling through it. Although unable to pierce through the other side into an alternate universe, these ‘Bleedengines’ were able to travel to different parts of our home universe easily suddenly signaling a golden age of interstellar travel. In time, as things got worse, an ark ship was built and sent off to colonize an Earth-like planet first discovered decades ago by scientists, Izanami. Those who embarked on this historic ship were dubbed The 100 (Click here for a brief rundown of Izanami's history).

A side effect of this technological breakthrough was the ability to instantly transmit information through The Bleed, creating an all-new information super-highway dubbed the Bleednet. Tapping into this Bleednet served to ease the introduction of humanity into the greater galactic community once first contact was eventually made (for more, go to the section titled ‘Captain Steel’). Today human fashions, celebrities, and even entertainment are shared and enjoyed by all manner of species.

As for Old Earth? These days it’s an almost too hot wasteland but the life remaining has mostly stabilized. Those who have remained had little choice in the matter, but with so many leaving the planet in the ensuing decades, things became somewhat easier although decidedly more tribal. Those with power who had chosen not to leave sensed that they had carte blanche to do as they pleased, and so far they are right. The majority of humanity, however, has long moved on and now call the twenty-thousand light year ‘bubble’ surrounding Izanami home."

-Excerpt taken from Humanity Among The Stars by Ellroy Asher, released in 3125 (Solstan).

Roxanne Belmonte groaned loudly as the lights in her room flashed off and on in thirty-second intervals. It was 07:30 in The Long Morning, and she knew that if she stayed in bed any longer an ear-piercing klaxon would be forthcoming. She kicked the blanket off in a mock tantrum before proclaiming, "I'm awake," and the lights stopped flashing. She laid in bed a few seconds more before she swung her legs over to the side.

Her room was sparse and relatively small, but that was how she liked it; She wasn’t for decoration. Her one indulgence was the lights, which had switched over to a light red hue once she had stood up exactly as she had programmed it. She pressed her palm against a small pressure plate and, with a soft hiss, the bed raised to allow for the floor beneath it to open up before it lowered itself into the crevice. She pressed the plate again, holding it down for a few more seconds than before and a sink, cabinet, and mirror emerged from the wall.

Roxanne stared into the mirror, the bags under her eyes were prominent and spoke to all-night TV show binges and other poor life choices. The upcoming placement tests kept her up at night but the will to study was always fleeting.

She played with her long red hair that brushed the small of her back and picked out individual strands for further inspection. It popped juxtaposed with her mocha skin color and hazel eyes. A swoop of hair hung over her right eye as per usual because no matter what she did it always found its way there.

Roxanne tapped a spot on the sink and a cylinder popped up filled with oblong white capsules. She pulled one out, examined it, and popped it into her mouth. She bit down hard, allowing her saliva to activate the nano brushbots. She stood there tapping her feet as a small amount of foam escaped from her lips. Various info boxes began to appear on the mirror: the weather, news of the day, and things of that nature. A quick news blurb had caught her eye:

"Lady Steel smashes terrorist plot."

Her favorite subject, she tapped the window to enlarge. A talking head expounded upon the headline:

"Lady Steel, also known as Corina Kyle, was honored yesterday by local officials in Saint Century City for her role in ending a plot aimed squarely at the city's elite." File footage of Lady Steel flooded the screen and it was mostly videos of her speaking at talk shows or meeting with her fans.

Roxanne was enamored with her. She loved her long pink hair and even tried braiding it similarly to her but it wasn't as flattering. Lady Steel typically wore a long grey coat, burgundy colored leggings, and gloves, along with her logo—a stylized 'L' and 'S' broken up by a bolt of lightning—plastered on her belt buckle when making public appearances. To Roxanne, it sometimes felt like Lady Steel was clearly more comfortable just being seen in her streetwear but she never understood why.

People looked up to Lady Steel, or at least Roxanne did, and that symbol, that whole uniform, was part and parcel of the whole package. To her, it was important. Then again she wasn’t famous and so it wasn’t like she could relate.

The reporter went on, "King Robo, the self-proclaimed 'Mechanoterrorist', had allegedly devised a Trojan virus to infect the AI governing many of our homes, devices, and appliances. Some say this was an attempt to show that those AI's are, in fact, living beings and deserving of equal rights much like his robotic brethren. You may recall that it was only just a year ago when it disseminated its so-called Robot bill of rights...”

Roxanne shook her head and swiped the screen away, machine rights were a big topic in philosophy class a year ago and her head spun just reminiscing about it.

Another headline had popped up, about Old Earth. She hovered a finger over it, hesitating. She had set an alert for any Earth news about 6 years ago when her grandparents had finally told her the truth about her parents. It was her tenth birthday and she had been spending the better part of the last year constantly asking about them: What happened to them? Why aren't they here? And so on. These questions were usually met with a dismissive wave or worse but eventually, her persistence paid off.

Her heart sank when she was told the truth, that they were still on Old Earth. Ideally. Hopefully. She sighed and touched the window; she let her finger press hard against the glass. There was a brief hesitation before she swiped the window away.

Roxanne didn't know why she kept tabs on the place anyway, it's not like she'd catch sight of them on the cams out there, but the truth was it was her closest lifeline to them and it was better than nothing. Once the tingling sensation in her mouth faded, she leaned over the sink and spit out the leftover fluoride with a loud splat. The faucet ran automatically and, just as quickly as it had landed, the mess was gone.

She tapped the side of the sink and out slid a small red comb; she diligently attempted to style her indomitable mane. Her grandparents, Grandpa Humberto and Gramma Millie had often remarked how well she had taken the story of how she came to live with them; she shrugged at the memory.

16 solstan years ago they had come into a bit of a windfall, either some sort of settlement or her grandfather had won big on some stocks, she couldn’t remember. Regardless of the how, it was enough credits to book passage to Izanami as travel from Old Earth was prohibitively expensive; by design, mind you. The amount of credit covered grandmother and grandfather but not enough for their now-adult children Babies were given free passage to Izanami by law, and it was a no-brainer to bring young Roxanne with them.

Her grandparents had told Roxanne that they were encouraged because there was no future on Old Earth, not for a child. Roxanne had no reason to believe otherwise, although doubt was persistent; born of a latent cynicism toward the world. Roxanne hated cynicism, any aspect of it that came up inside her made her cringe.

"Ow!" She winced, damn knots.

Her grandparents built a decent life here. Most of the money had gone into paying for relocation, permits, and, finally, a home. The rest probably sat in a bank, Roxanne couldn't be bothered to ask. Satisfied with a job done, she took one last look in the mirror: straight-ish and good enough.

She replaced the comb into the holder, which snapped back into the sink with little fuss. "Closet," she uttered as she took a single step back. The sink and mirror slid into the wall while, to her right, a large cylinder rose from the floor. It had a sleek mirror-like outer shell that served as a full-length mirror once its doors slid open.

"Roxanne?" the disembodied voice of her grandmother had slithered into the room. It dripped with the kind of tone that seemed to keep a reprimand ready in its back pocket. Roxanne loved her, she did, but the woman sure could hover.

"I'm getting clothes on, Grandma." She shot back and winced immediately; bad tone.

Her grandmother took it in stride, "Just checking, dear."

Roxanne sighed as she looked over her clothes, she wasn't feeling any of them. It felt like a lazy day for her, but then again every day felt like a lazy one. She was getting burned out by school—by life—and it was starting to show. In the end, she decided on comfort: black leggings with a black crop top.

She didn't care if people saw her as some stereotype who wore nothing but black and wrote poetry on their webpage; she would never, talk about lame-o. But it wasn't worth stressing about what other people thought, she was happy with herself; mostly.

And hey, her hair looked great contrasted with the black as far as she was concerned. She studied herself in the mirror once she had finished getting dressed. She cocked her head slightly as she made a silent pass of judgment. Satisfied, she tapped a panel on the cylinder and, with a hiss, the doors slid back closed before it sulked back into its hole.

"Time?" She said aloud.

0800 LM.

That was the voice of Alice, the main AI running the house. Perfect timing, she thought. She shuddered thinking that barely a third of the Long Morning had gone by, luckily School was only 12 hours today.

Time on Izanami was measured using the Solar Standard, or Solstan, and the planet took 48 Solstan hours to orbit the main star Brachium. Once school ended, there would only be 6 hours of daylight left before the Long Evening began. The two terms were holdovers from the original 100 colonists who settled the planet and they just stuck.

Roxanne grabbed her slate and briefly glanced at the notifications. There were a lot of messages from Wes Gibson, her best friend. That boy could be manic sometimes but he had a good heart. She sometimes wondered if she liked him-liked him but then he'd do something ridiculous or dumb and that thought would fade; it was an ongoing battle.

She looked at each message, he'd been freaking out about how bad he was at studying and the majority of the messages were either emoticons or strings of gibberish text. She pulled up the virtual keyboard and began to type: Good morning to you too. The app indicated he was responding so she waited.

Rox I'm losing it. I'm going to fail. :-(

She shook her head and replied, Don't be so dramatic lol. I gotchu.

The reply was simple, :-)

See you in a bit, she typed and shut the screen down. Her door slid open upward as she approached it and she made her way downstairs.

Roxanne entered the kitchen humming a tune she'd heard almost two weeks ago. Grandmother was used to this by now and was sick of it by day 2. She whirled from the counter where she had been chopping apples and tossed a slice at her hoping to get her to stop. Roxanne flinched and the slice thudded against the door frame beside her.

"Hey!"

It worked and grandmother smiled, satisfied. She was a very tall woman in her early fifties and she probably dwarfed Roxanne by a good couple of feet. Her light red hair was peppered with gray, yarn-like, and tied in a loose ponytail behind her ears.

A tiny clean bot emerged from one of the walls and squeaked as it made its way over to the fallen apple slice. Small metal polls emerged from within the device to stab at the apple piece while a tiny hatch slid open on its oblong body. Deftly, it stuffed the slice into the crevice with another squeak before it jetted back into its hole.

Roxanne eyed grandmother and pressed her lips into a fine line before she sat on a stool at the kitchen island. Grandmother turned to face her holding up a still intact apple and motioned it toward her questioningly. Roxanne held out her hand with a smirk; she caught the apple and munched on it while looking around the kitchen.

It was fairly large and spacious, even with all the counters, cabinet, fridge, stove, and Kitchen Island. Unlike her room, all the furniture and kitchen equipment were essentially bolted down and permanent. They were top of the line, and most homes couldn't afford this usually opting for quick slide-in/slide-out equipment that was easier to maintain. Her grandparents were a bit old school and they had no problem paying for the privilege.

"Where’s grampa?" She uttered in-between mouthfuls, which prompted a look from grandmother; she blushed. "...sorry."

"He's downstairs fiddling with the AI, I sure wish he'd just call a professional," she said with a rueful smile.

As do I, the AI stated flatly. Roxanne winced, she hated when it listened or offered its own input. However, she was not so self-unaware to know that this was born out of a bit of prejudice on her part.

"Alice, I swear to god...," grandmother Millie began. "If you start speaking Chinese again I'm going to scream."

Por favor, no grite.

Roxanne stifled a laugh as her grandmother threw up her hands. "Well, at least we understood that," Roxanne offered with a chomp.

***

Entering real space in 3.

2.

1.

With tremendous force, Azonne emerged from the Bleed and out into the real. Far off in the distance, she could see the main system star, a class F sub-giant shining like an old lighthouse on cliff shores made of gas and dust. The rings allowed her to view the world through a variety of electromagnetic wavelengths so she could make out which of those stars out there were actual planets. There were at least 6 other stellar objects orbiting the main star:

Four dwarfs, one gas giant, and one terrestrial world—a little green marble.

Welcome to the Brachium system, The First told her.

She stayed silent for a moment and re-litigated the last few hours. A touch of panic swept across her skin. The fact of the matter was she was relatively new at this; her entire tour of duty thus far had been filled with failure and regret. Her home, gone; the mere thought of her people felt like a stone in her throat.

She was the last of her kind now.

Azonne...

"I shouldn't have left them…" She uttered in response.

The First remained silent, something that had maddeningly become more commonplace between them. None of this was her fault, that much was certain, but how to express that had them at a loss. Instead, it relied on The Balance to show them the way; one way or another, all things eventually became clear.

Azonne took another second to compose herself and just as quickly she had her game face on.

"Perform a Bleednet search, we need to find Captain Steel and make contact."

Searching.

While they did that, she plotted a course mentally toward Izanami. When she had first been chosen, The First would do that for her but had eased off as she became more comfortable with it. It took a simple thought to begin exerting enough force to move forward in space, picking up speed with each second until she was traveling just under the speed of light; she'll be within orbit in 20 light-minutes or less.

"Well?" she said after some silence.

Apologies, I had to do some double-checking.

"What? Why?"

He is dead.

Azonne felt an invisible hand tighten its grip around her heart; dead?

It appears that he had been beaten to death in defense of another world 4 cycles ago.

Azonne nearly broke again; she abandoned her home for this! They had a plan, this ridiculous plan that was honestly barely a plan at all. All she had was a memory that wasn't even hers, of a man she had never even met. She was just a body housing other beings' strengths and experiences, it was how the mantle functioned. It was a shared synaptic muscle memory that stretched across generations; all the skills and memories of those who came before her she could recall in an instant. Alien dialects were understood and spoken fluently, fighting skills were performed perfectly, and strategies were executed with smoothness.

But it wasn’t really her, at least it never felt that way. That would come in time she was told. Here she was, still waiting. It became harder to not become cognizant of the obvious truth, that maybe her choosing was a mistake. That this inherent fact was the reason that the balance was now broken.

Someone has taken up his mantle, his sister.

"Oh?" Something stirred within her, a lifeline to rescue a flawed strategy from drowning. "She can help, right? She has to." Something told her she was foolish for even considering that.

I will attempt to make contact.

Izanami grew larger with each passing minute. Lush green and sparkling blue splotched different parts of the planet; she was reminded of Ganlomb and its lush fauna but she stayed strong. The halo-like atmosphere glowed on the edges of the planet. She pierced through the atmosphere kicking up flames around her.

Soft fluffy cloud cover came into view below her and she punctured through it with a mid-air horizontal twirl; cloud entrails twisted around her before they vanished into nothing. Sparkling blue water awaited her under the cloud top and she took a moment to appreciate it, having missed out on the chance to do so back home. She skimmed the water, keeping only a few inches between her aura and the surface. She rose a few inches more so that she could skim her fingers through the water; for a time she'd forgotten why she was even here.

Incoming ships from the north.

Azonne glanced up, she could see them. "Can you hail them?"

She shot up back toward the cloud top quickly, bursting through it in a dazzling explosion of fluff. She slowed down to allow the ships to catch up to her and lowered her aura to make her appear less threatening having learned the consequences the hard way not too long ago. There were two ships, sleek silver cigars that cut through the sky as two bullets fired from a cannon. They matched her speed and hovered on either side of her.

She stared at her reflection on the hull, The First took it over and spoke with her:

"They wish to escort us to their commanding officers." It had her voice when it spoke but it was for her ears only. The reflection shrugged and spun around onto its back as if it were flying while laying down.

Azonne never asked, but she assumed that The First did this because it was the closest thing they could get to being real again; a body of their own for the first time in an eternity.

"Did you tell them about his sister?"

"Yes, they said they aren't authorized to do anything but escort you."

"J'all." She cursed; bureaucracy. "Tell them we will follow."

The reflection saluted and returned itself to Azonne's current right side up position, lifeless once more. She looked ahead; nagging despair washed over her. What if they didn’t believe her? Would they lock her up until they could verify her story? Would she let them? She shook her head, annoyed. Sweat pooled upon her brow while her fingers itched; what if she took the first shot?

Blue ionic energy exploded from the two ships snapping her out of the funk. They now took the lead and Azonne kept up easily without having to reignite her aura; she synced up with their formation perfectly and cruised. Azonne became aware that the three of them were decreasing in altitude every few meters, even more so once a large continent came into view. At first just a blob or singular mass of color, a massive jungle for sure but then quickly individual trees, roads, vehicles, and, finally, a city.

Saint Century City.