Chapter Two: The Intruder

“M-me??”, I spurt, “Do I know you?”

“No. You don’t. And you should keep it that way!”, says the apparently sassy brunette standing before me. Her uniform, or lack thereof, does not indicate any form of authority. Or scientific merit. No, just a girl a few years younger than me maybe. Pastel blue coat down a bit past her waist. Perfectly manicured shoulder-length, light brown hair. She could be mistaken for someone’s cute lost little sister, if it wasn’t for the attitude. Maybe she’s a territorial hermit.

Dusting sand off myself, but also my indignity, I retort, “I can’t imagine I would want to know you with that attitude! No, ‘Hi, nice to meet you!’?” She looks even more offended than the redness in my ears would show my embarrassment.

“Say hi to you? You’re the one trying to poach my find!” she retorts, pointing an accusatory finger.

“Your what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me! I know you’re not a local so why else would someone who’s obviously not from here be on this exact beach, when the conditions are just right?” As she berates me, her arms are straight to her sides with her fists half-clenched. She does have a point though.

“Does it have your name on it?” She blinks.

“Huh?”

“The beach. Does it have your name on it?” I say in a sickly sweet tone, trying to give my best faux innocent look. She still looks bamboozled, but in less than a moment she goes from bewildered to redder than my ears were a moment ago.

“Not the beach! I don’t care about the beach. I know what you and that mountain of tools are for. Now, scram! It’s mine.” Scram!? Her attitude was already insufferable, but now I confront the assailant face to face.

“You don’t own this beach and I don’t owe you anything. How about you scram since you can’t play nice?” I smirk to myself. She’s so angry that all she can do is point and blubber at me in rage for a moment. She quickly composes herself, to my dismay.

“Just face it. I beat you here, so it's mine!”

“Actually, I’ve been here for hours. Regardless, even if I did know what you are talking about, if you have to find it, I’d hardly say that it belongs to anyone. Especially if you can’t even say what ‘it’ is.” She looks leftward, down the beach.

“You can’t have been. I’ve been here for hours, just over there … well, you could see it if it wasn’t for all the glare,” she says while pointing down the beach. Indeed, I can’t see anything.

“Maybe we came from opposite directions. Either way, you still haven’t even said what ‘it’ is.” I then turn and take a couple steps to the left with a righteous huff. Looking out of the corner of my eyes, I see a beleaguered look I haven’t seen the likes of since I was a child.

“The Prism. You know. I know. Now, get out of my way before you ruin this.” I had a sinking feeling, but how did she also know? I thought I had cracked some kind of code, so to speak. Although, unlike me this girl seems to be unladen with tools of any kind. What is she going to do, carry it home?

“And say I did know what you’re talking about, what makes it yours? As far as I can tell, you still don’t own this beach.” I can tell by the look in her eyes that she wants to strangle me—that is until we’re both caught off guard by the sound of what can only be described as a digitized explosion behind me. Quickly whipping my head around, I see the Data Tree glowing with some kind of green light. The lines of circuitry that coat the entire surface of the tree are practically ablaze, rather than their usual dormant black. Further, the energy is being blasted from the top and well outside of the atmosphere. As awe-inspiring as that is, the glint right below eye level catches my eye, and I gasp. The Prism. Right there on the sand, freshly thrown ashore. I turn back to the delinquent but see that she is transfixed, documenting the event with a camera she had hidden who-knows-where.

I start to make my way towards my quarry while she is distracted. But how do I get it out of here? I grimace at the sensation of sand crunching below my feet. Likely, she can’t hear it over that sound either, but that’s just what I need right now. Maybe I can have the drones lift it out of here? Only if it’s light enough, though. And what about the green light? Will I even be able to leave through the atmosphere while that is happening?

Steeling my resolve, I continue forward. Regardless, doubting myself won’t help now. Not when I’m so close. I can practically feel the ozone on my skin. The scent of the sea is completely gone now. Looking over my shoulder, I see the competition fiddling with the camera and smack it lightly. Obviously, it's not working. Great. So there goes drones. I pull out my instrument as I get up to the Prism, but the display isn’t doing well either. Through the rippling textures and the static dancing across the screen, I can at least make out that the Prism in front of me is the object it was tracking. Not that I had doubts. Time for plan C.

I reach into my pocket and grab something I know she doesn’t know about. In all of the cases reported, Prisms are always found alone, with no other debris or objects found to be strongly correlated. Except for one, although the reports are a few hundred years old and, as a result, are often discredited. However, the second Prism found was alleged to have been found with an object clearly fashioned to be held. Silver metallic handle, with a crystalline metallic hybrid blade at the top, and a metallic sphere at the bottom. Looking at my left hand as it withdraws from my coat pocket, I observe the intricate work done on the “blade”. It is covered in intricate circuitry much like the Data Tree. The handle is not particularly unique other than it feels well-made. However, I notice that this too is emitting a green energy, but nothing approximating the Tree. I feel a sense of exhilaration—both from the energy radiating from the object into my arm but also from pure excitement. While it may be likened to a blade, I think it’s something else entirely.

Long object with a handle, jagged but deliberately made end with no actual blades. This couldn’t be used to cut anything worthwhile. No. This is a key. The key, if I’m correct. Shaking myself free of my thoughts. I start to take the last few steps towards the Prism, key first. Right as I’m nearly on it, a hand suddenly grasps my wrist. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing with that!? I told you, it’s mine!” Dammit. Easily distracted, but still determined. She’s smaller than me, a fact I realize as she failed to grasp it from me, but still strong enough to stop me.

“Let go! It’s not anyone’s, but this is mine.”

She scoffs. “It’s clearly made out of the same material so I call it too!”

If only she didn’t have a hold of my wrists. I try to jerk my arms free but her grip is too strong. Not as strong as her stance, however. She falls straight into me and I cry out as a sharp pain fills my forearm. Inadvertently, we flung ourselves into the Prism, and one of the jagged edges poked right into my forearm, making the key fly out of my hand. It smacks into the object with a surprisingly harmonious clang. Without missing a beat, the Prism turns a like shade of green and begins to … dissolve!? No, no, no! Reaching for it with my other hand, I blink and see a man roughly my age lying inside the dissolving remnants, scattering to the wind like some kind of fairy tale. Stirring, he turns to us and weakly asks, “Who are you two?”