A Spark of Realization

Okay. She took a deep breath. I didn’t steal anything. I didn’t just run five miles in twenty minutes. Everything went smoothly. Stay calm.

She opened the door.

“Val!” Bread ran up to her. His legs rattled with each step. Like loose bolts stuck between each crease and crinkle. “You’re back!”

“Hey, Bread. Got some presents.” She gave the kid a quick hug. “Coach?” She looked around. “I got the stuff.”

“Finally.” Coach walked in lugging a bunch of cleaning supplies. He snatched the sack from her hands and rummaged around. He pulled out a shiny, metallic orb. It glistened under the ceiling lamp. “Good. It’s high quality.” He shook the bag. “There’s more?”

He pulled out the mask. There were facial features lightly imprinted on top, flattened pancake-thin. It softly molded around Coach’s fingers, drooping down as if it couldn’t withstand gravity.

His eyes widened like bowling balls. “Nano-Fibrogen?! You just brought something like this in a sweaty gym sack?”

“Hey, rude! I cleaned it yesterday.”

“This—where did you steal this from?” He pulled out a clean towel from a nearby drawer and gently placed the mask on top. It wobbled like jelly. “This better not be from Greg’s!”

She rolled her eye. “I got it fair and square.” If she stole it before it arrived at Greg’s, then it clearly wasn’t Greg’s.

“For god’s sake, lass. How?”

She shrugged. “I’m just smart.”

Bread walked over to the mask. He stared intently before reaching out and touching the edges; it slid across his fingers, sticking ever so slightly. The substance looked viscous like the grease on her pizza she had yesterday.

“Stop!” Coach slapped his hands away. “You’ll get to use it soon enough. Don’t touch it now.” He turned his attention back to her. “Dinner’s on the table. Get some food.”

She waved off his offer. “Gotta go. Still got things to do.” She grabbed the gym bag from the desk and started to pack a new set of tools.

“Go where? You just got back.”

“We’re running low on funds. You know that.”

“Then let me help.”

“No, stay with Bread. You’re the only one who can fix him.”

“What am I? Just some personal stay-at-home repairman?” He shook his head. “I thought you quit being a thief.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s a better way to make money.” She guided Bread to the bed. “C’mon! Let’s try the new stuff out.”

“C’mon, my ass.” He motioned to Bread. “Lie down.”

Bread nodded and did as he was told.

Coach carefully carried over the gelatinous material and placed it softly on top of the kid’s face. It slid down Bread’s forehead and neck. The liquidy substance started to mold around the edges of his faceplate. It crawled down his eyes and nose, digging deep through the crevices.

Bread suddenly started to choke. He made gurgling sounds as if the material was clogging his throat.

“Coach! He’s—”

“He’s fine. That’s just how it happens.”

And within seconds, it was over. Bread sat up on the bed, somewhat bewildered but still breathing and alive.

“Wow.” She whistled. The skin had attached itself onto his face, plumping up the thin, metal walls of what was once his exterior. He actually looked human now. Thank god.

Bread looked at himself through the mirror. She saw him smile just a bit. Then a lump of hair also magically poofed out from the top.

“Lie down.” Coach steered the kid back to bed. “We need to replace the core too.” He pulled out the cable that was connected to Bread’s chest and plugged it into another smaller socket on his neck.

He swiftly dislodged the original core like he was defusing a bomb; it crackled and sparked dangerously. Then he replaced the empty chest cavity with the new silvery counterpart. With a few more twists and bangs, the procedure seemed to have finished. The chest covering over Bread’s freshly installed core radiated in a hue of fluorescent green.

But as soon as Coach stood back to admire his work, the lights to the room suddenly dimmed.

“Coach?” Then it started to flicker. “Coach, what’s happening?” A bright spark came from the ceiling. It was immediately followed by the sound of shattering glass.

The room went completely dark. The only light source was from the bedside window. The glow of the moon faintly beamed through.

“Bread…?”

“I’m okay!” Bread called back. His chest glowed faintly in the dark.

Coach coughed a few times. “I’m fine too.” He switched on an emergency lamp. The room was illuminated again.

“What the hell was that?” she asked.

“Not sure. The lad’s been shocking me left and right, lately. First time he’s completely blown out the bulbs though.” He muttered under his breath, “Maybe it’s the cables?”

“I’m sorry…”

“This isn’t the first time?” With that much power, Bread could easily blow out some electronic security locks all by himself.

If only he could control it.

“It’s been happening at least once a day.” Coach carefully removed the cable from Bread’s neck. It was charred to the wire. “Says he can taste things.”

“I can! I just tasted iron! Well, I think it was iron.”

He tasted iron? What did that even mean? “Do we have to fix it? Like, is it a big issue?”

“Don’t think so. Look at him.” He pointed at Bread bouncing around on the bed. “Seems fine to me.”

“Huh.” He was so hyper. Was it because of the new core?

“You’re free now,” Coach called out to him. “Go out; do whatever you want. Don’t bother me anymore.”

Bread gasped. “Really?”

But!” He pointed towards the window. “You probably won’t get that far anyway, but don’t ever go to that tall building over there.”

“Why?”

“Just don’t. No questions asked.”

She followed Coach’s fingers to a building in the far distance, and she realized immediately what this was about.

The tall building in the center of Novus Lokris—Simular Inc.’s main office. It was the crown jewel of the city. An elaborately detailed, tastefully embellished masterpiece. Even compared to the other skyscrapers around it, it was degrees more advanced.

The infrastructure stretched wider than most, farther to the skies than any other. Even amongst other architectures of the world, it was considered a modern engineering marvel—swirling in directions that made it reminiscent of wind. There was no true direction, no motive to the design itself except for an almost personified, outstretched yearning to reach for the stars.

She had to admit, it was beautiful. In every sense of the word.