Mirror Majesty

18: Wormholes and Weirdos

The group sat impatiently for Brice to arrive. Above them the Greek god Harpocrates looked down with a sinister smirk and a delicate, shh. The god of silence left the group in a world of their own. Laura splashed in the fountain. Nancy busily tapped away on her phone. Jorge shut his eyes and hummed a sweet tune. And Marcus anxiously twiddled his thumbs and studied each person that walked by to see if it was Brice or worse one of the mysterious Balancers. Marcus glanced at his watch. Nine minutes passed and still no Brice.

Nancy moaned and leaned her head into Marcus's shoulder.

"Ugh! Where is he? My coffee is already gone." She sipped loudly through the empty straw.

"Maybe he ghosted us," said Marcus.

"Typical men," snapped Nancy tossing her drink into the trash can. "Trash, all of them."

"No, no," said Jorge opening his eyes. "Brice is not that type of guy. And with his curiosity peaked. Trust me, he would not refuse meeting us even if he wanted to."

"Jorge," asked Nancy shoving her phone in Jorge's face, "you're a fashion guy, what do you think of this top? I'm buying these shoes and want to know if they clash."

"Definitely," he responded

"Damn," cursed Nancy. She tapped her phone screen again. "And empty cart."

Laura suddenly stood on her tip toes and pointed over the moor of people's heads. "I see him. I see him."

Everyone stretched their necks to see.

"What that guy in the trench coat and sunglasses?" asked Marcus.

"Yeah," responded Laura.

"Could he be any more obvious?" said Nancy sarcastically.

"That's Brice for you," added Jorge. "Always too much."

It was clear his disguise created more unwarranted attention than he intended, but Brice was determined to make the incognito look as official as possible. He had the sunglasses, the long tan coat, the snazzy black shoes, and strangely enough a pair of bright blue-green knee high socks. All he was missing to complete the look was a fedora and a smug grin.

"He was never one for fashion either," added Jorge as he face-palmed. "He would never take my advice."

Brice floated through the crowd. His footsteps meticulously calculated not to step on any cracks in the tile floor. At long last he arrived.

"Glad you guys found the spot," he whispered peeking over his sunglasses. "I took the long way around so no one would suspect it was me."

"Who are you trying to hide from anyway?" asked Nancy.

"The Balancers, duh," he whispered. "And you would too if you knew what was good for you."

"Alright then," said Marcus. "Tell us. Why should we be so afraid? What is this Edge Oblivion Project you spoke of?"

"Shh," hissed Brice. "Too loud and too many questions."

"It was just two questions," said Marcus.

"Two questions too many," cried Brice. His eyes widened when he realized he had raised his voice. "I can't answer all your questions here. It's not secure. But I'll give you a short briefing." He rummaged through his pockets. "Lame. This isn't the coat with the tablet. I was gonna be cool and show you pictures."

"Later, Brice," said Jorge. "Just tell us what we need to know."

"I'm not doing this for you." Brice gave Jorge an unamused glare. "So hush and let me talk." Brice scooted closer. "So I'm part of a group that studies cryptext files and other weird spacey science stuff. For as long as anyone can tell there has been an international secret organization hiding in plain sight. It changes its name every couple hundred years and its members grow and decrease with the times, but one thing remains constant, their hunt for a power unimaginable. Some believe this power is a generator of sorts, a type of power source that never gives up and never needs fueling. There has been speculation over what this power source is but the common consensus is a hole in spacetime, a wormhole of sorts."

"A wormhole to where?" asked Marcus.

"No one is really sure. Wormholes are purely theoretical. Science says they exist but no one has seen one or can create one. The closest we have gotten to understanding them is through black holes, created when the mass of star implodes on itself. These holes in space and time can create such energy and gravity that even light is pulled into them. Where the stuff goes is anyone's guess. Perhaps across a vast distance or even across time."

"Or to other worlds," whispered Laura.

"That too is possible," agreed Brice. "A parallel world, a different dimension, anything really."

"So these Balancers are after a wormhole?" asked Nancy. "What kind of sci fi nerd land did I fall into?"

"It's all true, or at least I think it is. The Balancers call their search, the Edge Oblivion Project. EO for short." Brice checked over his shoulder. "You said you knew someone who vanished in her reflection?"

"Yes, my cousin, Hope," said Jorge.

"My sister," added Laura.

"And our friend," said Marcus.

"Did anyone see her vanish?" asked Brice.

"I did," said Nancy. "I saw a dark opening behind her. She got sucked in. There was a flash of light and glass shattered everywhere."

"So like light she traveled through the doorway," muttered Brice. His eyes became distant in thought.

"How can someone like Hope create a wormhole?" asked Marcus.

"I don't know," said Brice. "Your Hope must be someone special."

"She is very special," said Marcus. "It's why we need to find her. We need to find a way to get her out."

Brice exhaled deeply.

"I recall hearing about the glass explosion on the news and a missing girl." Brice put his hand over his head and stretched. "Y'all need to come to the next S.O.C. Party."

"What?" asked Nancy.

"You heard me," said Brice. "A S.O.C. Party. It's when my group gets together, and wears fancy socks and chats. Cool stuff." Brice could see Nancy had no interest in what he was saying. "Anyway. All our knowledge together and your experiences should be enough to get started on finding your Hope. This is big, guys. Real big. The Balancers don't just come to Texas for any reason."

"Where and when?" asked Marcus.

Brice shoved a slip of paper into Marcus's hand. "We never say that information out loud. When you've memorized the location and time, burn the paper."

"A tad bit extreme don't you think, Brice," said Jorge.

"Hey, where I'm concerned when wormholes and weirdos mix, nothing is extreme enough."

In a galloping leap and a graceful dash, Brice vanished around the corner and down a hallway straight out of the exit door.