Quinn woke up in a cold sweat, the hazy images beginning to fade quickly from memory. He wobbled out of bed and to his workbench, flipping open his heavy drafting notebook, and furiously scribbled the remnant of the dream.
He had gotten home early after his walk back from the park, thoughts of the brainstorming with Joss dominating his attention. Mellissa had confirmed a meeting scheduled early before classes started the next day. Throughout family dinner his mind had swirled with potential designs and calculations based on his intuition. He practically sleepwalked from the same workbench and collapsed into bed for the night. His dreamscape had been full of the subconscious manipulation of metallic instruments, willing his ideas to work in the pliable state of physics available only in his sleeping mind. At a certain point he had fallen into a nightmare, an intense experience from which he had ultimately been woken, and now found himself returned to mundane methods of drafting and experimentation.
A beam of morning light stilled his writing as he turned to squint at the clock. He was two minutes late to catch his daily coach reservation to the academy. In a panic he scrambled into his uniform and shoved what he needed into his pack, only stopping briefly downstairs to grab a loaf of bread and wave to his family on his way out the door. He ate as he ran through the streets, nearly tripping on the rails that were running through nearly every square of the public roads. He barely noticed the verdigris of the shingled roofs flying by, the earthy blue-green of oxidized copper. They were common for the older districts, shading the dark wood and stone buildings from rain and snow, reflecting sunlight across the city in a familiar and comforting greenish glow.
Racing around another corner he had to slow himself on a lamppost to avoid colliding with a motorized railcart exiting the automatic door of a forge building. The city was alive for the day, and the shipments had begun. Quinn estimated the run through the shipping yard, over the fence, and over the river to the nearest coach station. He was in good shape physically, toughened by years of work with steel and precision engineering. He was not, however, an endurance runner, and he was already running late. His eyes snapped back to the railcart preparing to descend into the shipping tunnels deep underground, did another quick mental estimate and he took a deep breath.
He caught up with the cart as it was slowly being shifted in place onto the descent platform by the machinery, and he brushed the dust from the label. His heart jumped at his apparent luck.
"Teller Precision, LoEC," he thought, "Only a three minute walk from RRA!"
He climbed the footboard and took a firm grip on the edge as he pulled himself into the railcart. He reached out toward the platform’s manual descent lever and gave it a heave. The whole mechanism shuddered on its rails as the platform locks released, and the cart quickly plunged below. He braced himself within the cart, watching as the access lights along the shaft replaced the sunlight and blue sky above. The controlled descent was meant for freight, and Quinn quickly remembered his times working in the belly of the locomotives as Lance’s apprentice, as the force of arrival within the tunnel below bruised him.
He ducked and dodged light fixtures as he peeked over the hopper's edge. The heavy fall had locked the railcart’s speed controls into a very high speed, the cart and rider flying down the tunnel. Soon he would come to the routing railyard, and he would need to verify the cart's destination. Careening around a bend, he looked again, finally seeing the fast approaching railyard. Dust and debris had begun to swirl within his cart, and he pulled out his welding mask to protect his eyes and breathe safely. Just as the cart broke out into the dimly lit chamber Quinn popped up from within, scanning the cavern teeming with trains and rail carts through the heat sensory vision of the mask, picking up glowing signatures from lanterns and bodies among the sea of hot steel.
His cart was heading for an exit that was bound for the correct district he saw, but another train with several hundred cars was headed for the same trailing turnout as his. His metal steed whined as he pulled on the gearing lever, buzzing behind before coming up alongside the accelerating train. He began to panic as the arm wouldn't budge, it was stuck fast. Workers along the edge of the yard yelled and pointed at him as he passed, the strange figure in the welding mask racing the locomotive.
As they neared the intersection, the train engineer sounded the horn in warning, Quinn glancing over, white-knuckling the edge of the cart. He squinted through his welding mask as the turnout switch loomed ahead. He saw it could shift his cart’s path onto the other track, its rusty linkage glinting like a promise of salvation or a threat of failure. His heart pounded in time with the clatter of wheels on rails as he watched the shrinking distance, his mind racing through every possible scenario. Then, in one fluid motion, he kicked off from the cart's frame and vaulted onto the railing beside the tracks. His boots scraped against the slick metal as he reached for the switch, straining against the rushing wind from the train. His fingers found purchase on the lever – and he wrenched it into place. The rail groaned in protest as his cart veered into the individual delivery zone, narrowly avoiding merging into the freight train's massive wheels. Quinn stumbled back to his cart, breathless, watching the endless chain of cars blur past like a steel serpent rushing into the dark tunnel ahead. He allowed himself a small, grim smile beneath the mask, he wasn't dead.
He recovered his bag from where it had left his shoulders mid jump, straps freshly pressed by the cart's wheels. The Teller Precision cart had collided with the rail bumpers and stopped not far past where he had bailed out, he released the automatic braking system, and realigned the cart to follow the route of the disappearing train. His heart was still pounding minutes later as he piloted the cart up and out into the sunshine once again across the river. With a pat goodbye to the machine, he hopped from railway to railway, carts humming along on either side. He jumped to scale the fence, steadying himself on support beams along the top before dropping down from the final beam into a flower bed below. He straightened and brushed himself off as best he could, putting his mask back into his pack as he began his quick walk to the gates of the RRA now mere yards away.
The main campus of the RRA consisted of several dozen acres of gated gardens and superstructures. The main building at its heart was a structure of stone, brick, and polished wood a dozen stories tall with a large and ornate dome of copper-framed panes of glass fixed atop it. The reinforced beams reflected through the glass during the day casting the atrium inside as well as the outside gardens in a cool cyan light. While the exposed portion of the structure was grand in composition, the actual scale of the academy far eclipsed it, encompassing the hundreds of excavated chambers spreading out far below it underground. What once started as a grand royal library had slowly collected vocational specialists, and as a result the Academy had branched out, or rather, down. Quinn rushed through the garden paths and quiet halls then down the massive staircase, each step painted in a gradient color of the rainbow, which defined the underground wing of the College of Sentient Sciences. Knocking once in warning, he opened an office door.
"Well if it isn't the ominous message man," said the woman behind the desk, "Why are you out of breath?"
Quinn trudged through the door of the office and slung his pack into a stuffed chair crammed between two towering bookcases. He sunk into the seat, running a hand through his hair.
"Rough morning" he wheezed, "had to catch a rail cart to make it."
"You did not!" she demanded.
"Afraid so. I'm fine, don't worry Mell."
Quinn grabbed his pack, the wheel print over the straps as evidence. He pulled out his copy of yesterday’s Trendsetter, still folded open to the article, and handed it to her.
"You see this yet?" he asked.
"Of course," she said, "I wrote it."
Quinn felt the pang of betrayal again.
"Well, as per usual, as a written piece it is excellent." he said.
"Thank you. I assume saying that I wouldn't believe what you heard has something to do with this? Let's hear it." she inquired, cocking an eyebrow and pulling out her writing pad, always the studious notetaker.
Mellissa always had an air of delicately balanced precision and chaos. Her messy bun held back tides of brown hair with the support of a large pin. The central ancient wooden desk dominated the office but was slowly drowning beneath papers and photographs. Her bookshelves were overflowing with collected academic insights from years of research and reporting ripe for consumption. The office was a goldmine of information, assuming you had the patience to search the piles of documents sandwiched between Mellissa’s many photo albums. Apart from being an excellent journalist, she also doubled as a well known photographer within the industry. She had a legendary attention to detail, but was likely to someday overdose on it.
"I received a concerning message from Maven Zai yesterday." Quinn said.
Mellissa leaned back in her chair, brow furrowed as she studied him with a piercing gaze.
"A 'concerning message' from Liora," she began, her voice tinged with curiosity and worry alike. "What was it about? Why would that make you look like you just ran through a gauntlet?"
Quinn was silent for a long moment, rehearsing what he would finally say.
"The content of the article, it's Lance's life work. The Zais entrusted us with its completion, and now it's out there," he said, jerking a thumb toward the outside window.
Mellissa’s face slowly drained of color After a moment of shock she scrambled for the paper on her desk. She furiously scanned the lines, eyes flicking between the featured diagram images and her own pithy summary of the source notes. Quickly she realized that many of the diagrams and notes she herself had reviewed for publication were in a hand she recognized now that she knew what to look for.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
"&@$ &%@%!!"
After a few minutes she had calmed down a bit, the papers settling down after their rapid unscheduled flight around the room. The two stared across the desk at each other sharing the same pained look.
"I'll get to the bottom of this, so help me Sun," Mellissa swore, "I should have known that an unmarked envelope was too good to be true. No strings attached ‘blah blah blah’ never look a gift horse in the mouth? I'm gonna set them on fire! Then…"
Quinn patiently listened to her rant. Mellissa had been an exchange student from the distant Tezzcheton as part of a program brokered by the representatives of RRA a decade ago. Lance had personally shuttled her family, as well as many others, to Rheidella during a conflict on her homeworld. Quinn was comforted by her shared righteous fury.
Mellissa had vowed in no uncertain terms that she would dig up the source of the information from her article. Quinn thanked her, collected his things, and headed out to find Lily.
Quinn slid into the booth across the table from Lillian. The dining hall was at its most active during this time of the day, and he had had to search for her for a while before finally finding her near the back wall. Lily had expected him to be his quiet flustered self, but she was pleasantly surprised to see his look of determination. She pictured their first meeting during the RRA entry exams, Quinn's characteristic short platinum blonde cutting a sharp contrast against the grime speckling his sleeves. Joss' swarthy self had been there too, and she remembered thinking he was tall and thoughtful, his brown ponytail standing out amongst the young men, offering pens to those grateful exam takers begging them. She marveled at how much they had changed while managing to stay themselves.
"Hi Q!" Lillian said
"Lily! What a conflicting morning I've had, please tell me your day has been going better than mine!" Quinn replied, cracking the tin on his juice and popping in a straw.
"Conflicting huh," she said, arching an eyebrow, "What's up?"
When Quinn described his unique route to school hours before, Lillian's eyes were wide as saucers. She scolded him lightheartedly, and he only conceded, yet again, that it hadn't been a safe thing to do. He quietly told her about his conversation with Mellissa, giving what she thought to be great insight into the Astator's personality. She cataloged that mentally for later evaluation. Ultimately Lillian found her realization again confirmed: many defied initial impression, and not every book could have been judged by its cover.
"Well, let me know if there's anything I can do to help," she offered, "If you can get me a list of suspects, I can make a profile for each."
Lillian's mentor was Inspector Annabelle Brighte, a renowned investigator known for her sharp mind and keen eye. Over the last few years she had inspired Lillian with stories of her own adventurous exploits as an inspector. With her striking ginger hair styled against the distinctive black and maroon uniform of the Royal Kaiem, she had already earned the respect and admiration of her colleagues and adversaries alike. As a result, Lillian had modeled her educational focus on Annabelle's expertise, emphasizing skills in her own research and behavioral modeling that would compliment those of her cousin, the inspector. This had landed her some singularly amazing opportunities under the elite research professors in the Sentient Sciences department, leading to her current internship opportunity with the rising philanthropic organization, Unity Innovations.
"Thanks Lily," said Quinn, nodding, "If you find anything, please let us know, would you? I’m sure Astator Cairn would appreciate more to work with."
"Of course. Speaking of the Printer's Guild..." she said, smiling sweetly with a meaningful look.
Quinn laughed and stood to help her up.
"Alright, let's go find Carios." he said.
Quinn and Lillian chatted as they walked toward the doors of the dining hall, tossing trash into compactor bins and cans into recycling units. The hall was an already beloved new addition to the academy which had replaced the stained and grimy-floored cafeteria that had served students for a century prior. It had served double duty, the cafeteria frequently being used as an impromptu chemistry lab, some unfortunate experiments gone wrong and tainting the space for weeks afterwards.. The shining new hall had been stripped of any exposed wood and other absorptive materials, now replaced with buffed steel tables and booths. The renovations were still in progress, heating pipes running through the floors and booths still exposed, and electrical lighting still bare. Quinn appreciated seeing the guts of these new additions, but he stopped when they began to pass the pneumatic cleaning machines at the exit, depositing his dish and utensils into their labeled slots. Lillian looked on in boredom as Quinn studied the mechanism securing each implement before arranging it with similar items, plunging them into a soap bath below, and blasting them with jets of water as they were dropped down out of sight. He noticed the pneumatics and electronic controls sealed to each, all stark white compared to the expected combination of red, green, and white typical of electronics.
"Who is wiring something using only white insulation?" he asked nobody in particular.
"What?" asked Lillian, "The workers are from Unity Innovations, if that's what you are asking?"
"Never heard of them." Quinn said, scanning the machine again visually.
"Well, you're gonna be hearing about them a lot now, because they're the ones who offered me the internship" said Lillian, reaching into her bag and pulling out a letter.
Quinn turned and took the letter from Lily, opening it and scanning through the first few lines of the document.
"Unity Innovations
Secretary of Social Development
Margaret Kain
To Whom It May Concern:
This is an expression of interest in partnership with the active student, Ms. Lillian Xavier, through an educational sponsorship program for the purpose of learning and furtherance of social research.
Dear Ms. Xavier,
In the course of our existing partnership with the Rheidenas Royal Academy of Engineering & Sciences under the sponsorship program, we have found your current research to be in alignment with our crusade for the betterment of the Rheidenasi through programs encouraging innovation and technological improvement of lifestyle. Our research into reliance on tools seen as dangerous to the population has fostered a growing need for social researchers such as yourself.
Terms:
1) The Sponsored entity will publish 1 research study as requested by the Sponsor.
2) The Sponsored entity will receive on completion of Term 1, the financial support in the form of a credit line towards additional studies, to be negotiated after completion of Term 1.
..."
The letter went on to outline dates and times for events to attend, and some suggestions for topics which Unity may be interested in research published on. Quinn's eyes had begun to glaze, but he shook himself from it and looked back at Lily.
"Wow, this seems like quite an opportunity, like you said! So that's why you need to talk to Carios." he said.
"Exactly! Luckily I already had a study from last year which I cleaned up a bit, and I am hoping to fast-track that into Trendsetter. It's a study I actually did with Haru on the effects of mercury poisoning and the social impact and effect on survivors." said Lillian, energized by Quinn's encouragement. She popped her dishes into the cleaning machine, and they slipped through the swinging doors, out into the atrium.
As they walked through the atrium, Quinn and Lillian couldn't help but notice the bustling atmosphere. They blended with students already gathered around announcement boards, studying notices and announcements, searching for their names. Lillian noticed an announcement by Unity for an upcoming event, and she pointed it out to Quinn.
“Look, they’re holding a showcase,” she said excitedly, “That must be what they were talking about in the sponsorship details!”
“Seems like it. How have I never heard of them before?” he replied, as they began to edge out of the crowd and into the hall.
Students studied on benches along the walls, and scurried alone or in groups down the halls at either end of the atrium. In actuality, both hallways led to one another as they curved to form a large circular path, rooms and staircases all along for access to classrooms, laboratories, and various Colleges' compounds.
They wound their way around the groups of students collecting from within the classrooms. Most courses had standardized time slots, perfected after decades of scheduling hell for students taking classes across multiple colleges. Now, at the end of the fifth block of classes for the day many students headed to the cafeteria for a late luncheon. The groups were composed primarily of local Humans with reddish brown hair or Nekadians with warmer skin tones of their early developed scales contrasting with an otherwise human appearance. Other mammalian species could be observed in ones or twos and mixed in with larger groups, tall leporide ears of the Tuzzops wrapped in silk and beads or short leonide ears of the Mimixi pierced and unpierced poking up above others, alongside the massive ursine Bjornovans and the extremely rare petrous Rhakinis on their sets of spider-like legs streaming in and out of the entrance. The larger entrances to key areas were located on the same wall as the entrance to the dining hall, positioned across from the boards, and included the main entrance to the large amphitheater known as Bellman’s Hall. The hall had been renamed in honor of the previous RRA Chancellor, Vander Bellman, under whose leadership the Academy's Colleges had been unified.
Their destination was a maze of pipes and large printing presses where Carios, head of the Printer's Guild, held court. Quinn knew from experience that this underground lair was hidden behind a seemingly ordinary door in one of the academy's many corridors. In his first year at the RRA, Lance had petitioned to allow for the Printer’s Guild to have a dedicated space within the academy, and Quinn had assisted the crews in the reassembly of the large machines in the space deep below. Next to a closet, the simple wooden door opened to reveal a spiral staircase, hardly out of place to any RRA student. He led Lillian, ducking under and around the greasy clusters of pipes, moving swiftly through the twisting passages, pointing out various landmarks along the way.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of navigating narrow corridors and dodging apprentices rushing about with ink-stained hands and frantic expressions, they arrived at the entrance to the Printer’s Guild. The steel doors loomed ahead, their surface marred with years of scratches and smudged fingerprints, standing in stark contrast to the aged stone walls around them. Faint but distinct sounds leaked through the thick metal snaps of gears locking into place, the steady ping of type being set, and the rhythmic whump of heavy presses at work. The air carried a faint tang of ink and hot metal, promising both industry and precision.
Quinn hesitated for the briefest moment, taking in the sensory overload before reaching for the handle. The door groaned softly on its hinges as he pushed it open, releasing a gust of warm, paper-scented air. The dimly lit chamber stretched far into the shadows, its cavernous interior packed with rows upon rows of printing presses, their hulking forms illuminated by flickering oil lamps and the occasional spark of metal against metal. Apprentices scurried between the machines, some carefully arranging fresh sheets of parchment while others adjusted the massive gears with practiced hands. A man stood at the far end of the room, surrounded by a team of busy technicians and weary printers, each one busily working on the latest piece.
Quinn's eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar array of printing presses, from ancient wooden contraptions to modern machines with flashing indicator lights and whirring gears. He spotted a few new faces among the printers, including some underclassmen he had met during his own research endeavors.
“Carios!” yelled Quinn, “I’ve got someone I want you to meet!”
