Underground

Lucy Deacon noticed the young boy on the park bench.

It was after school on a Friday and the park was nearly empty as most everyone had gone home to their weekend plans. The young boy had a tablet and was busily sketching with a stylus, checking the sky in between scribbles. She thought she recognized him from school. He was in her History class. He had curly, uncombed hair, he wore glasses that magnified his pale blue eyes, and he had a small scar on his chin. Was his name Stan? She decided to say hello.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," he answered.

"I'm Lucy," she said. "Lucy Deacon." Lucy was taller than all the boys in her class, including this boy on the park bench. She was a good athlete with a shelf of trophies in her bedroom for baseball, basketball, and track. She had red hair she kept tied back with a ribbon and a face splashed with freckles.

"I know," he said. "History class."

He didn't offer his name but he had closed up his tablet and Lucy saw his name on the cover. It was Stan. She smiled. "So, what are you drawing, Stan?"

"The sky," he said. He paused. "There's something wrong with the sky."

She looked up and said, "It looks okay to me."  She looked back at Stan and smiled. "What's wrong with the sky?" 

Lucy felt a little uncomfortable as Stan studied her for a moment before he nodded and then answered.

"Every day, after school, I've been sketching the sky." He held up his stylus. "Virtual charcoal. I come here on the weekends, too, at the same time. 3:15pm. It's an art project I'm working on. A Year of the Sky. Same time, every day."

"So," Lucy said. "You're an artist."

Stan shrugged. "I'm trying to be."

"Sounds interesting," Lucy said, not thinking that it was interesting at all, but she knew it was the right thing to say to someone you liked.

"It should be different every day. The weather. The wind. The passing clouds. Each day should be unique. And it was until last week. For the last eight days, the sky has been exactly the same. That shouldn't happen." He paused. "I think the sky is broken."

"Given the assumption of randomness," Lucy said. "Shouldn't you accept the possibility that the sky might appear to look the same from one day to the next? Isn't that inherent in the definition of randomness? Maybe it's like the six consecutive nines in pi."

Stan smiled. "You're very smart."

"Thanks," Lucy said, blushing just a little.

"I hope you're right," Stan said. "But I think you're wrong."

"Are we having our first fight?" Lucy asked with a smile.

"What?" Stan said. 

He's kind of sweet, Lucy thought, but I'm clearly the smart one. "May I see your pictures?"

Stan hesitated. Nobody had ever asked to see his drawings before, or really shown much interest in him at all. It felt strange in a good way. "Okay." He slid over on the bench and Lucy sat down next to him.

He opened his tablet and tapped the screen with his stylus, opening a folder with 127 files; the daily sketches of the sky so far. He handed her the tablet and said, "I set it up as a slideshow. Just hit play."

She watched as the screen changed with each drawing. She hadn't thought the sky could be interesting. It was just blue and white most of the time. Something you looked at every day without really seeing it, but Stan's drawings were beautiful. They made something like music in her mind as she watched the slide show progress.

Stan had watched Lucy's face as she looked at his drawings and felt his heart race a bit as he could see how much she liked his work. It surprised him that her reaction felt so important to him. He saw her face change. Her smile was gone. She looked up at the sky and then at Stan.

"I see," she said.

"Eight days in a row," Stan said. "It can't be a coincidence."

"Well," Lucy said, the smile returning to her face, "It could be a coincidence. It's what a coincidence is, after all."

Stan took the tablet from her. "The sky is broken," he said. He did his best to hide the crushing disappointment that she didn't see what he was seeing. He wondered why her opinion was so important to him. Yes, he knew her from History class but this was the first time she'd ever spoken to him. You could say, in a way, that they'd just met. He pulled together what he hoped was a smile. "I should be getting home."

*****

She was waiting for him on the park bench the next day. She tilted her head to one side and said, "I'm glad you're happy to see me." Stan realized he was smiling so big his face might crack in two. 

"Hi," was all he could muster.

"Sit down," Lucy said. "The sky is waiting."

"Okay," Stan said. "Thanks."

He sketched for a little more than fifteen minutes before he stopped. He scrolled through the recent sketches, glancing up at the sky in between.

"Well?" Lucy asked.

"Nine days in a row," Stan said.

Lucy nodded. "The sky is broken."

Stan blushed. "You don't still think it's a coincidence?"

Lucy smiled. "Eight days in a row? Maybe. Nine days in a row? Definitely not."

"You're making fun of me," Stan said, feeling a bit confused by her, not to mention a bit confused by his own feelings.

"It's not what I meant," Lucy said. "I meant that I thought about you - about your sketches, I mean - and, well, I changed my mind. I think you're right. The sky is broken."

Stan nodded, not sure what to say.

Lucy looked up at the sky. "It may be broken but it's still beautiful," she said. "Some people are like that."

"I, I'm not broken," Stan said.

Lucy smiled at him. "I wasn't talking about you, silly."

Stan smiled back at her then looked up to the sky, too shy to look her in the eye as he said, "I don't think you're broken."

She took his hand and together they watched the beautiful, broken sky for a while.

*****

Lucy came to the park and sat with Stan every day after school for a week. Stan sketched the broken sky while they talked about school, about Mr. Dixon, their History teacher, and his poor, aromatic hygiene, about their parents, about their dreams, about sad things and funny things.

"What's that?" Lucy asked, noticing a picture on Stan's tablet that wasn't the sky.

"What?" Stan asked.

"That picture on your tablet," Lucy said. 

"Oh, yeah," Stan said. He hadn't remembered opening the picture of the river valley to the east of Springfield, bathed in the red-orange light of sunrise. "I've been doing some sketches from Harris Hill." He pointed to the well known landmark on the far end of the park. "Every morning before school."

"Can I see?" Lucy asked.

"Of course," Stan said. He smiled and handed her the tablet. 

As she scrolled through the pictures, of landscapes and pigeons and people, Stan said, "When my parents found out I wasn't going to school early because I loved school so much, like I even thought they'd believe that, but I was going up on Harris Hill to draw, my parents told me there's an old song called The Fool on the Hill and that fool was me. I was a fool, wasting my time on art."

"I don't think you're a fool," Lucy said. "But if you are, you can be my fool."

Stan blushed. "I looked up the song and it has lyrics that go something like ...the eyes in his head see the world spinning round… and I thought maybe being a fool isn't such a bad thing. I think that's all I'm trying to do. See the world."

Lucy kissed him. Stan kissed her back.

*****

Stan was not on the bench when Lucy got to the park. It was a Saturday and she had lost track of time. She was only a few minutes late. Stan should've still been on the bench sketching. She worried that something was wrong though she didn't know why or what it could be. Not sure of what else to do, she decided to wait for him. She took what she already thought of as her seat on their bench. She was so focused on checking her phone for any messages, for news, alerts, for anything from or about Stan that when the man spoke it startled her.

"Good afternoon, young lady," the man said. He was tall and dressed in a well-worn suit with an unartfully knotted tie. His face had a forged look of kindness about it that Lucy was certain he had to practice in the mirror to get right. "You wouldn't be Lucy by any chance, would you?" 

When she didn't answer, the man continued. "I'm sorry. I should introduce myself. I'm Mr. Sharp. I'm Stan's dad. You can call me Philip." He held out his hand. Lucy looked at it like it was a snake. "May I sit down?" he asked and without waiting for an answer sat down next to her. She had already launched the Amber App on her phone. "Stan wasn't in his room this morning and I've been looking for him everywhere." He took out his phone and showed her a picture of Stan. "I don't suppose you've seen him?"

Lucy wondered where the police were. How long had it been since she sent her alert? She tried to control her nerves. "Just because you have a picture of a boy on your phone doesn't make you his dad," she said.

The man put his phone away and smiled. "Stan said you were smart," he said.

She was confused and afraid. Has something happened to Stan? Was this man really his father? It seemed like it must be true - he seemed to know things that she thought of as secrets she'd shared only with Stan - but there was something about this that just didn't feel right. Something besides the sky was broken.

Then she saw the police officer approaching and she jumped off the bench and ran to him as fast as she could. She ran around behind him and was surprised to see the man walking toward them, perfectly at ease, a smile on his face. "Good afternoon, officer," the man said.

"Is this the man?" the police officer said to Lucy, his eyes locked on the man approaching them.

"Yes," Lucy said.

"You stay right here," the police officer said as he took a step toward the man and said, "May I speak to you for a moment, sir?"

The police officer guided the man away from Lucy, far enough that she couldn't clearly hear everything they were saying. She heard Stan's name mentioned. She saw the man take a wallet from his jacket pocket to show his ID to the policeman and she thought she saw a flash of silver. A badge? What was going on? The man showed the policeman his phone. They spoke and nodded and then the policeman clapped the man on the shoulder in a way that said he would not be arresting the man. They turned to walk back to where she was standing and she was thinking about running when the policeman put up both his hands in a calming gesture and said, "It's all right, miss. You're perfectly safe. Just a misunderstanding."

Lucy remained tense, ready to take flight.

"He isn't Stan's dad," Lucy said, more testing than certain.

"She is smart, all right," the policeman said. "It's your nose."

"My nose?" McNulty asked.

"You've got a big nose," the policeman said.

"You've got mean eyes," Lucy said.

"A big nose and mean eyes," the policeman said with a smile. It seemed obvious now to Lucy that the two men knew each other. She felt her fear validated and somehow it helped to calm her nerves a bit. She just needed to keep her head. She focused on her breathing. She checked for other people in the park.

McNulty sighed. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. And I apologize for lying to you. You're right. I'm not Stan's dad. My name is Philip, that much was true. I'm Philip McNulty, a detective lieutenant with the Springfield police department. This is Sergeant Zane Truman. We're trying to find your friend, Stan Sharp, who was reported missing this morning by his actual parents."

"You're friends with Stan, Miss Bishop?" Truman asked.

"How do you know my name?" she asked angrily, then cooled, embarrassed by the obvious answer as the policeman held up his phone. "Right. Amber app." Lucy shrugged, still unable to fully trust what these men were saying. "He's in my History class."

"Just History?" McNulty asked. "Chemistry? Art? I understand from his parents that Stan is quite the artist."

"Just History," Lucy said. "Shouldn't I have a lawyer if you're going to ask me all these questions?"

"You're not under arrest, Miss Bishop," Truman said.

"I'm calling my parents," she said.

"They should be on their way here already," McNulty said.

Right, Lucy thought. The Amber app notified them, too.

"What happened to Stan?" Lucy demanded, her eyes awash in tears. "Is Stan okay?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," McNulty said.

"Her parents are here," Truman said, spotting the man and woman hurrying up the path into the park.

*****

Back in her room, safe at home, Lucy checked her phone again. Stan certainly had been busy. He had posted a slideshow video of his drawings on Gram, Tahk, meta, Tuba4U, everywhere, really. An editX thread called brokenSky had been started by conspiracy enthusiasts using Stan's video, with UAP videos, Sasquatch videos, and links to Hologram Universe sites added by commenters. Seventh Santa believers posting predictions of a polar reversal and the end of life on Earth. 

She was giving up hope, there was too much noise, when she noticed the comment on the Tahk video post.

If you're the smart one, you know the fool who's alone on a hill, seeing the world, when the Sun King comes and goes.

She knew it the moment she read it. It was a message for her, from her fool.

*****

The next day Lucy went to the park bench at the usual time, not because she expected to find Stan there. She wanted to see if policemen would be there, if they were watching her. Broken Sky might be trending on social media but in that context, it was just another silly thing that caught people's attention for fifteen minutes, until the next silly thing comes along. 

There was something else going on here. 

Stan wasn't missing. He was hiding. Why? She sat on the bench, pretending to read a book, sneaking a look down the path, then to the stand of maple trees on her left, at the bushes that surrounded the small playground with its sand box, teeter-totter, swings, and monkey bars.

She noticed the policeman as he came up the path. When he approached the bench, Lucy put down her book and said, "Good afternoon, officer." I see you, she thought. I want you to know I see you.

The policeman touched the brim of his cap with two fingers in a pantomime salute and said, "Good afternoon, miss."

Lucy returned to pretending to read while she watched the policeman continue up the path. After a minute, maybe two, he stopped. He looked back at her. He spoke into the small microphone attached to his collar as he watched her. She took a deep breath. Her fears had been confirmed. She was being watched. 

They were going to use her to trap Stan. 

*****

When she got up, the broken sky was still shrouded in night, dotted with stars that flickered and struggled against the darkness. She dressed in the old jeans and hooded sweatshirt she'd dug out of her bedroom closet the night before. She hadn't worn the sweatshirt in a year but it still fit. It was the best she could do for a disguise. She slipped out of her house and onto the cool, dewy grass of her back yard. She checked the time on her phone. She wanted to make it to the top of Harris Hill in time for the Sun King's arrival.

She took a deep breath. She threw her phone as far as she could. She started towards Harris Hill, a light jog at first, and then she was running.

*****

She had made it. She bent over, hands on knees, catching her breath. What now? Lucy hoped there was a plan of some kind behind Stan's message. Well, I'm here, she thought, waiting for the Sun King. So, where are you?

She walked to the vantage point overlooking the valley. Stan would've stood here when he drew that picture, she thought. She looked around. There wasn't much cover on the top of the hill. A few elm trees on top of the eastern slope to her left. The bushes that lined the path up the northern slope were squat. She hoped he wasn't hiding in the port-a-potty but there weren't too many other options. She took a deep breath and started walking towards the metallic outhouse.

"Lucy."

The sound of her name startled her. She turned toward where the voice had come from. There, in silhouette, someone was standing in the elm trees. Had they been there all along? Was she caught? Had they followed her here? Had she led them to Stan?

"Lucy?"

It was a woman's voice.

Lucy mustered the courage to speak. "Who are you?" 

The woman took a step forward, her face still shrouded in darkness. "I'm the Sun King. I'm here to bring you to Stan."

"I don't believe you," Lucy said, but it was more out of self-defense than lack of trust. Whoever this woman was, she knew about the message.

"Stan said you wouldn't. Just like you wouldn't believe the sky was broken. At first," she said.

They noticed the criss-crossing beams from the flashlights and the sound of men struggling up the hillside at the same moment.

"We're out of time," the woman said. "I have to leave. With or without you."

Lucy ran to the woman, who took her hand, and led her down the eastern slope of Harris Hill. She pulled her in behind a small outcropping of rocks where they crouched and hid until the policemen had made their way to the top of the hill. They moved carefully and quietly down the hill, then, making their way through the stand of pine trees that stood like a barricade protecting the town. They walked out of the trees and onto a sidewalk. The sun was rising. Lucy recognized where they were as they made their way down Tamarack Drive, about a mile from her own home. They walked a few more minutes and the woman said, "In here."

Lucy followed the woman, surprised to notice that she was still holding the woman's hand, as she turned and walked toward a house that Lucy thought looked like a cottage in a fairy tale; whitewashed walls, red tile roof, the yard a riot of ornamental shrubs surrounded by a low wooden fence. She hoped it wasn't a bad sign. Fairy tales can be tricky things. She looked at the woman again in the brightening morning light. She didn't look like a witch, at least, not like the witches in the books she'd read. I'll push you into an oven if I have to, if that's what it takes to save Stan, she thought.

They entered the house and Lucy saw him. "Stan!" she shouted and ran to him. He caught her in a hug that made her forget the world.

"You're welcome," the woman said. She smiled as Stan and Lucy held fast to each other. "I'll make us some breakfast."

*****

Lucy hadn't realized how hungry she was until the plate of scrambled eggs, sausages, and toast was set down in front of her.

"Thanks, Minerva," Stan said as the woman put a plate in front of him, too.

"Minerva?" Lucy asked. "The Roman goddess of wisdom?"

"She is the smart one," Minerva said to Stan, who nodded, his mouth full of eggs and toast. She looked at Lucy and nodded her head toward Stan. "Minerva was also the patron of the arts, and artists like Stan, too. Among other things."

Lucy thought Minerva was beautiful. Her hair was blonde, cut short. Her eyes were large, green, and seemed to be laughing at a joke only she knew. She was tall, slender, and moved with a dancer's grace. 

Stan swallowed and took a sip of orange juice. "Minerva isn't her real name, of course. It's her online handle."

"Okay," Lucy said. "I think I must've missed the beginning of this movie because none of that makes any sense to me."

Minerva smiled. "Definitely the smart one."

"Minerva's a digital engineer," Stan said. "She's the one who broke the sky."

"And Stan," Minerva said, "is the fool on the hill who saw the world was not spinning 'round."

"Yeah," Lucy said. "I get the musical metaphor but I'm still not sure what it all means."

"We're underground," Minerva said. "The sky is a projection, an algorithm, day and night, sun and moon." She paused. "And clouds, of course," she said, smiling at Stan.

"Underground," Lucy said. "I don't-"

"You don't believe it," Minerva said, cutting her off. "You know, you're really too young to be a cynic but I get it. Why would you believe it? That's the point, I suppose." She sighed. "Humanity was forced to move underground hundreds of years ago in order to survive the planet we poisoned, the planet we made toxic to all forms of life, a planet willing and ready to take revenge on those who had mortally wounded it. The exodus from the surface started with a series of caves and mines that were originally planned to be little more than lifeboats, temporary homes for survivors of the cataclysm. Armageddon. The End Times. The Day After Forever. Whatever you want to call it. When it became clear the surface would be uninhabitable for who knew how long, people began to dig deeper, to build out a space for a new world underground. For that first century, people were self-aware, understood where they were and what had happened to bring us there. Time passed. There were some people who decided it would be better for humanity, for humanity's children, both literal and metaphoric, to deny the past rather than teach the past. It was better to be happy, to be blissfully ignorant, than it was to face our collective failure, to reckon with all we had done. The literal millions who had died so those of us underground could live. So, they fabricated a lie. A lie that overwhelmed the truth. A lie that made the sky. A lie that I helped to perpetuate. Until I couldn't any more."

"That's a lot," Lucy said.

"Minerva hacked the code for the sky projection program and put it in an infinite loop. That's why the clouds looked the same every day," Stan said.

"I thought they'd break my code by now," Minerva said. "They must be going nuts trying to fix the sky, now that people know and they're watching."

"What about the birds?" Lucy asked. "The birds in the sky and the trees and -"

"I'm sorry," Minerva said. "The birds aren't real, either. Some are projections. Holograms. Some are mechanical."

There was a large cracking noise as the front door of the cottage was broken down. Policemen in black helmets and riot armor, carrying long rifles, streamed into the house, shouting for them to get down on the floor.

*****

His parents sat quietly in the chairs against the wall, their jackets in their laps. Stan was seated in front of Detective Lieutenant Philip McNulty's desk. A camera mounted on the wall behind McNulty's desk recorded the "interview," as McNulty had described it to Stan's parents. Stan knew it was an interrogation. McNulty asked questions, and Stan's parents would smile and nod at Stan, encouraging him to answer the policeman. He couldn't deny the video he'd posted and didn't try. He'd told them he didn't know Minerva - whose real name was Alison Hudson - and that she had found him in MickeyD's. McNulty had characterized it as an abduction for Stan's parents. Stan shrugged when asked what else he knew about her but he knew he didn't have to. They knew what Minerva had done. They hadn't come looking for him; they had come for her.

"You do know the sky isn't broken, don't you Stan?" McNulty asked.

His mother nodded yes and smiled.

"Yes," Stan said. Because it isn't the sky, Stan thought. It made the lie easier to tell. He just wanted to get out of there and was willing to say whatever was needed to make that happen.

"Where's Lucy?" Sam asked.

"Lucy's fine," McNulty said. "She's with her parents now, too." McNulty smiled as he spoke to Stan's parents. "Would you mind stepping out for just a minute? I'd really like to speak with Stan in private for just a minute if that's okay. I hope you understand."

His parents exchanged a look, nodded, and his father said as they stood up, "We'll just be right outside if you need anything, Stan." 

McNulty closed the door behind them and then took his seat behind his desk. He turned off the camera that had been recording Stan's interview; Stan noted the red light on the camera as it blinked off. "Well, it's quite the mess you've made, isn't it, Stan?"

"I didn't make anything," Stan said.

"No," McNulty said. "You're not a builder, are you, Stan. You'd rather break things, tear things down."

"What things, exactly, did I break?" Stan asked. "What is it that I'm tearing down?"

"The sky -" McNulty began.

"The sky was already broken when I found it," Stan said with a smile. "It's more fun saying that when it's true." His smile grew bigger.

Anger flashed on McNulty's face, scaring the smile off Stan's. McNulty looked out his office window to the reception area, smiled and nodded at Stan's parents, then turned back to Stan, his composure recovered.

"The sky is not broken, Stan. The world," McNulty said, "Life itself, is fragile. It requires our constant attention. It's a group effort, if you will. Do you understand me, Stan?"

"Yes," Stan said. Better than you know, he thought.

"Our world exists as it does because we imagine it to be so, all of us together," McNulty said. "And in that respect, it's a world like any other, Stan, a world created, and sustained, based on a shared understanding, a world based on faith."

"It's a world based on a lie!" Stan said.

McNulty smiled. "Isn't that what I just said? Reality is a conspiracy, Stan, and the more people who believe in the conspiracy, the more real it becomes."

"Why are you telling me this?" Stan asked.

The smile disappeared from McNulty's face. "You know what happens to non-believers, don't you, Stan?"

"You're going to burn me at the stake?" Stan asked, trying to smile bravely, but more than a little afraid of the answer.

McNulty didn't laugh. He didn't smile and he didn't answer Stan's question. Instead, he looked out the window and waved Stan's parents back in. The red light on the camera blinked on.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sharp," McNulty said as they re-entered his office. "Thank you so much for your patience." He paused and looked at Stan. "And thank you, Stan, you're a very brave boy and I want to thank you for all your help." He turned back to Stan's parents. "Stan is free to go. He and the Bishop girl were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. They should be completely safe now with the cyber terrorist known as Minerva in custody."

Stan felt his face flush. He reminded himself it was better to keep his mouth shut. The truth will have to make a tactical retreat for now, he thought.

As Stan and his parents reached the door, McNulty stopped them. "I'm sorry, I almost forgot. There's just one more thing I wonder if I could ask Stan." His parents nodded their consent and Stan waited as McNulty opened a folder on his desk.

"We found this note on Minerva. It's a long shot but I wonder if it means anything, maybe you heard something while you were being held captive, that kind of thing," McNulty said. "It's addressed to the Sun King, whoever that is." He held up a piece of paper and said, "Time rhymes until tempting Helios."

"I'm an artist, not a poet," Stan said.

"Right," McNulty said. "I thought so, too, but I did a search and it isn't a line from any published poem. So, that doesn't mean anything to you? You didn't hear Minerva - Alison Hudson -  talking about someone or to someone she called Helios? Or the Sun King?"

Stan shook his head. Time rhymes until tempting Helios. It was code for something. He didn't know what but he was sure it meant something.

*****

They met at the bench in the park the next afternoon. 

"My parents totally bought the cops' story that we were taken hostage by Minerva because she knew the police were on to her. I may have to see a therapist if I show any symptoms of PTSD. Other than that, I got a stern talking to about stranger danger, and that was pretty much it. Did you get in any trouble?" Stan asked.

Lucy shrugged. "I'm grounded."

"You're grounded? Then how are you here?" Stan asked.

"I snuck out," she said. 

"Won't you get in more trouble?" Stan asked.

"Yeah," Lucy said, then smiled. "They'll probably ground me. Again."

They were quiet for a minute and then Stan looked up and said, "They fixed the sky."

"Did they ask you about Minerva's note?" Lucy asked.

"Yes," Stan said. "Time rhymes until tempting Helios. Do you know what it means?"

"Well," Lucy said, "We can start with the obvious."

"The obvious?" Stan asked.

"The first letter in each word spells truth," Lucy said.

"Right," Stan said. "Yes. Time. Rhymes. Until. Tempting. Helios. I suppose that is obvious."

"Helios is the sun," Lucy said.

"Of course," Stan said, pretending he knew what Lucy was talking about.

"Minerva referred to herself as the Sun King," Lucy said. She paused, deep in thought, before continuing. "How do you tempt the sun?"

"With the moon?" Stan asked.

Lucy smiled. "I think that sounds romantic but I don't think that's the answer," Lucy said.

"Time rhymes," Stan said. "I thought it was history that rhymes and time that flies."

"What rhymes with time?" Lucy asked.

Stan shielded his eyes with his right hand as he looked up at the sky. "Is the sun getting brighter?"

Lucy looked around; the park, the playground, the grass all around them was drenched in a bright lemony light. 

"It's getting bigger," Stan said. "And it's changing color."

Lucy shielded her eyes with both hands and looked. The sun filled nearly half the sky now and it was a swirl of deep orange and red. Lucy had to look away. The park now looked like it was on fire. She looked up again and she could now barely tell the sun from the sky; the sky itself was awash with scumbled reds; coral and scarlet and crimson and burgundy. 

"The sun shouldn't go nova for billions of years," Lucy said.

"That isn't the sun," Stan said, a broad smile on his face. "It's an Easter egg."

"An Easter egg?" Lucy asked.

"It's a surprise that digital engineers leave in their code. Usually in a video game. Minerva told me about it. Given the right inputs, you get a pirate's treasure, a magical sword or potion, or super strength, a pet dragon. Something that will help you win the game. But they're hidden, like Easter eggs. You have to search for them to find them," Stan said.

"Like the truth," Lucy said.

"Like the truth," Stan said.

They held hands and watched as the sun swallowed up the sky.