Carpe Diem

< In Somnis Veritas
## Prologue

Yellow, red, orange -- the rising sun in the morning was a beautiful sight to see from The Laboratory of the Mind's large amount of glass windows. The Malura bushes surrounding the laboratory blew softly in the wind.

Within the laboratory's first floor, two lab assistants sat in conversation. One had been there all night, closely studying the mysterious new people that had recently entered the laboratory. The other had arrived for their morning shift.

"So, you're telling me that Samuel allowed these new people, and an inexperienced lab assistant to participate in The Contraption?" the arriving assistant asked.

"Well; they did want to help. Not like he forced them too, I think he planned to only let them sleep here, no beds. They're on the second floor, waking up, I think. They're odd people."

"I think he should've known better. The Contraption is not something to use that likely. Considering how real the sedative makes the dream; new people can lose their sense of reality fast. That one kid was smart to leave."

"Well -- alright, sure. But I'm sure that they are fine."

"True, true . . . " The assistant's mind drifted off, reflecting on the strange new set of characters that had joined the laboratory. He thought with humor to one of the mysterious events that had occurred when Samuel brought the new people in -- Blossom Cane, a lab assistant, was quite overjoyed at the arrival of one of the members. He could not recall if Samuel allowed the two to be in their own personal dream.

"One more thing." The assistant had a final question. "Do you know who the guy that just came is? He has this strange mask."

"'Fontaine'? Don't know too much about him."

"Alright then. We could always go to the second floor to ask more; if we wanted."

"Nah." declined the assistant. "I'm sure the dream they had was most . . . difficult, intricate . . don't know the world. They might think we're Projections. Let's give them some time to get ready,"

"Funny." The arriving assistant chuckled. He placed his coat on a hanger, and prepared himself for the morning's work.

## Narrative

Chris sat up in the bed, finally freeing his hand from Melissa's grasp, as she had brought him with her into the dream world. He was greatly surprised to see the entire world intact, after such a frightening experience. The ominous encounter with Savannah, fake Gabriel, and even the melting car made it hard to move out of the bed. He glanced over at the others, who seemed to be regaining consciousness.

Blossom rubbed her eyes, still shaken up about the contents of her dream. All she could remember was Atticus placing the blade against her throat and slicing it, leaving her to die. Through her thoughts of this, she barely noticed the footsteps until Chris' gaze snapped her out of her thoughts.

Melissa woke up having felt Chris slip from her grip. She slowly got up, blinking a few times to clear her floggy vision. That dream.. or well nightmare to her, has been really strange and bothered her on a deep level. She was too focus on remembering the details of the dream to notice anyone around her.

Fontaine mumbled to himself, recognizing every fugitive in the room- And one young woman he'd never seen before. He gestured towards Blossom. Speaking, he let out a flat "Who is she?"

The words the man uttered caused Chris to jerk around. "Who...are...you?" was all Chris could muster, as he stared at him.

Blossom looked up at the man, trembling a bit. For a moment, she was unsure of how to reply to the strange man.

"Um, I'm Blossom Cane," she started. "I'm an assistant here at The Laboratory of the Mind-"

Steven and Samuel took a moment to look at each other, silently attempting to figure out the identity of this mysterious man. Their mouths were slightly open; and their faces had a sense of visible bewilderment. Singling out Blossom was quite odd, they thought. As they carefully searched their minds, clouded by thoughts of an eclipsed grassland, Fontaine spoke again.

Opting to cut to the chase, Fontaine said four impactful words, "-I know where Savannah is."

"You do? Where is she?" Chris asked, surprised and relieved. Unfortunately, the mask he was wearing stopped Chris from being able to see his facial expressions, so he didn't know if was lying or not.

"Who even are you?" Atticus said in a suddenly rushed tone, while slipping off the bed he was in. Feeling uneasy and sweaty, he placed his hand against the nearby wall for support. "How do you know about us? Where is she?"

Fontaine pulled at his uncomfortable mask. "Lying in some Silivian gutter. I don't know what killed her, the angels or Alchemilia, but I know the top brass ordered some soldier to take all of you in, dead or alive."

A wave of sweat appeared on those who were barely waking up. Heart beats slightly increased. Steven let out a silent gasp; wondering if this man could be trusted; if that was really the end for Savannah. He had never known the girl; so no tears were produced -- but there was one person who knew her especially well. Steven quickly turned to Melissa.

Melissa's jaw hung agape in shock, her voice stuttering and quavering as she processed the information. She wiped tears that already began to well up away with her forearm, beginning to shake. No response came from the girl.

Atticus stood in silence, processing the news - he hadn't known Savannah for long or very well, but certainly felt a bond with the girl due to their awakening together and quickly felt a sense of anger at the news.

Looking around at the others and seeing their clear shock and solemn faces, he clenched his fists and stepped towards the masked man.

"What do you mean? How do you know this? Who the fuck even are you? How do we know you're not with Alchem?!"

“Is she really gone?" Chris asked, shocked. He couldn't believe the upsetting news that this mysterious man told them. Had the dream with her in it, where she seemed amnesiac, been implying this had occurred?

"I can answer all of your questions- If you would cooperate. I'd like to deal with the Alchem problem just as much as the lot of you." Fontaine paused. "I know what went down a few days ago right before the angels came down, you all have my... sympathy. I can't imagine what it's like to go through all that at such a young age."

Melissa held back more tears as she looked at Fontaine. Being in agreement with Atticus, she yelled at the man. "You're lying! Savannah isn't dead! How do we know you aren't just tricking us?!"

"If I wanted to hurt you, you'd already be dead, I've been working with Alchem for years- As a revolutionary. Through using this..." He pulled a small red tablet from his overcoat. "...I was able to intercept the orders they gave to a few soldiers, to kill a few teenagers." He grunted. "Savannah Whitesmith included. Though I couldn't stop it, I did find her body. It was taken away with the rest of the angels' victims, though... I was able to get a picture." Fontaine gripped a small photograph in his pocket.

"I don't think that's necessary," Chris said quickly before he could show them. 'Evidently, if she's dead and you have a picture, that might be enough evidence."

Blossom looked around at the commotion, confused as to what was going on.

"Excuse my ignorance," she interrupted, "But who is Savannah?"

"Savannah was a girl who we met a few days ago," Chris replied, opting to not share every detail. "She was a part of our group, but then we were separated because of an attack, so we didn't see her again after that."

"If you have a picture of her body, please show it. I'd like to see actual proof, not just seemingly empty words from an Alchem operative," Atticus told the man, disregarding Chris' statement.

Without any hesitation, Fontaine tossed the graphic image onto the ground, fully visible.

Chris decided not to look at the image, turning his head away. He felt that bringing closure to others in such a manner was disrespectful.

Melissa froze and stared at the bloody image of Savannah. She started crying harder feeling as if she had failed the girl by not looking for her sooner.

Nauseated, Blossom looked down at the image. Even though she didn't know Savannah at all, the sight of gore and knowing that it was once a living person, made her sick to her stomach. Staring at the image made her once again remember her painful death of her throat being slit in her dream. In fear, she glanced over at Atticus, keeping her head low.

"So, she really is dead."

Stepping away from the image, Atticus looked down at the ground, various thoughts going through his mind. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or upset. He had barely known the girl and therefore did not have much of a bond, but at the same time, she was one of the few people he had known since waking up at the barn.

"How do you even know of this? What is the purpose of even telling us? You don't know us, we have never seen you before."

Just as Atticus addressed the masked man, the door of the room flew open and Marshall Rooke seemingly barged in, yelling upon seeing the newcomers.

Wen Li and Marshall exited the truck and took the plants with them. They made their way to the door, noticing the white Malura bushes and cobblestone path. Marshall tried opening the door but it wouldn't. He then set his plants down and aggressively yanked on the doorknob. Nothing. He then pushed himself up the door, knocking himself backwards in the process. Marshall grunted. Wen Li walked over to the door and pressed the doorbell.

"Simple."

Surprised at a visitor this early, the standing assistant approached the front door. He prepared himself to give the scripted -- "Welcome to the Laboratory of the Mind, how can I help you?" -- until he made out the figure between the glass. Opening the door, the assistant welcomed in Marshall; who had refused to use the Contraption earlier. "Welcome back, Mr. Rooke and. . .?" said the assistant, as he welcomed in the boy, and the unfamiliar man with him.

Marshall proceeded, ignoring the assistant and he placed the plants down on a table by the door.

"Wen Li, if you do not mind. I am Mr. Rooke' s guest."

Wen Li also entered, motioning Marshall to the side to get out of the assistants way.

"Wen Li, nice to meet you," the assistant shook the old man's hand. He kept his conversation with Rooke and Li short, as he observed what Marshall placed on the table. "Interesting plants you've brought in; never seen them before. Your friends are upstairs waking up, if you want to show these to them."

Wen Li grabbed Marshall's arm and brought him upstairs. Wen Li hung by the door while Marshall entered the room. He noticed two new figures. A girl and a man. He did not, however, notice the expressions on his friend's faces.

"Who the hell...?!"

"An interesting one you are, John. Recruitment, I take it?"

To the surprise of everyone in the room, there came a soft; ominously curious voice from an old man. Standing in white, laboratory uniform, the man had carefully observed the altercation within the room for some time. He smiled - as if in complete ignorance of the situation at hand. Samuel; who was now stood with Steven as the boy comforted his sister; did not remember a second lab assistant in the room.

"I already answered your questions, Atticus." Fontaine began to get annoyed at repeating himself. He turned to the assistant. "They'd be stupid if they didn't at least hear me out."

The man snickered, quietly. To the man, Fontaine's intentions were obvious — an old rebel like himself would know. "Perhaps." replied the assistant. "Though wouldn't it be smart to talk to them, in a say — more formal setting? They need time to think."

"Of course... I'll let them wake up a little, first. Maybe a breakfast..." Fontaine ducked and stepped out of the door.

"Well -- a --" Samuel weakly spoke, attempting to make sense of the recent occurrence; but there was nothing. The man who had announced the death of Savannah left the room as quickly as he entered. Only the grotesque image of the deceased girl lay in his tracks.

The attention was brought to the assistant once again as he spoke; unfazed by what had happened. The confused, angry, saddened group looked to him. "Well then, I take it we best get going. I'm sure that fellow has quite the tale to tell. Get ready, head downstairs, clean yourselves up -- I'll prepare something for the lot of you."

Melissa's teary eyes were trained on the image of Savannah, she kneeled down picking it up. She couldn't help but blame herself if she hadn't insisted on being the driver of the car maybe they wouldn't have crashed, causing them to separate maybe Savannah would be okay. Melissa tried to hide her soft sobs as she blamed herself for the girl's death.

"It will be okay," Chris said, as he patted Melissa's shoulder, hoping to reassure her. He then looked over towards the doorway, where Marshall was standing. "Where in the world have you been, Marshall?" He asked in a frustrated tone.

"Where have *I* been?! Who are these people! Answer me!"

As Marshall was yelling, Wen Li walked towards him to try and calm him down.

"Marshall, don't-"

"Don't tell me what to do!"

More focused on the thoughts of their dead companion, none responded to the boy's outburst.

"Ah, Mr. Rooke." the assistant spoke up once again. The boy looked to him; as did all else in the room. "You're here sooner than expected. Do you see the image on the floor?" They wished to voice their concern for the man's seeming disregard for the deceased Savannah, but they only stared at him wide-eyed. Marshall and his elderly companion approached the crumpled image. As the image came to view, as the two examined it in frustration, the boy chose to save his inquires of the identity of Blossom and Fontaine for another time.

Finishing changing into their clothes which the laboratory had so graciously washed, some began to make their way out of the second floor. Some could already smell a starchy bread that awaited them downstairs. The thought of this brought a kind of peace to them - though they also remembered John Fontaine awaited them as well.

"Let's see what we have prepared, everyone. I certainly bet it's good." said Samuel, as some followed him.

As they made their way down the spiraling staircase, Chris decided to ask some questions. "What food do you have here exactly?"

Blossom began to slowly walk out the room with the others as she felt her wrist being grasped tightly. She froze for a moment, turning around and seeing it was Atticus. She gasped and tried to pull away from him.

After pulling her back into the room, Atticus let go of the girl, taking a deep breath before speaking to her. "What is your issue? Ever since we woke up, you've been acting odd towards me. And from what I recall, our dream wasn't that unpleasant.." His voice trailed off as he thought about their shared dream more, recalling only the two of them sitting at a table for a dinner date.

"Well, that depends. If you're referring to what we have now; well you're about to find out. If you're referring to what we have stored most of the time, it's a collection of frozen and canned foods and the sort." replied Samuel.

"'Wasn't that unpleasant?!'" Blossom retorted, now frustrated with Atticus. "You murdered me! How is that not unpleasant!" She paused for a second, recollecting herself. "I'm sorry. I was just a bit shaken up after the dream."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I didn't murder you, we went on a date!" Atticus stepped towards her again, before stopping himself. "Look, all I know is that we were getting along well before the dream. Now you keep acting like I'm dangerous or something. I've seen the various looks you've given me."

"Sure we went on a date, if you call slicing my throat open a date!" Blossom clenched her fists, not remembering the part of the dream where she went on a date with Atticus. "It's not like I want to avoid you, but maybe if you had decided not to kill me, this wouldn't have happened."

"What the hell? Look, I don't want to argue with you, Blossom. I just wanted to talk things out." Atticus looked away, rubbing his temples due to a sudden headache.

"I don't want to argue either, but can you just see my point of view on things? Maybe I don't remember that part of the dream, or maybe you don't remember your part, dreams can be hard to recall sometimes." Blossom said, with a gentler tone.

With the headache increasing, Atticus turned away from the girl, clenching his fists and tuning her words out.

"Atticus," Blossom moved closer to him, "Please listen to me."

Feeling a sense of anger wash over him, Atticus snapped at her. "JUST leave me alone."

"I'm sorry." Blossom replied quietly, slowly reaching for the doorknob.

"Fucking-" Atticus reached over, grabbing Blossom and throwing her against the wall, ignoring her cry as she collided with it. "Just fucking stop being like this. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Atticus!" she cried. "Stop!" Blossom struggled to get herself out of Atticus' grasp.

"Just stop."

Closing his eyes again, Atticus opened them to see Blossom standing in front of him still, having just finished her sentence about not wanting to argue.

"Uh...? Er."

Quickly, he walked away from her, walking out the door and rushing to catch up to the others.

"Atticus, wait!" Blossom ran up to the door, watching Atticus disappear before her. She sighed, walking out slowly and shutting the door behind her.

"At last, you've arrived. I've prepared the plates for you -- and take extra if you will. The sauce - well, if you'd call it that, is most exquisite."

At last, everyone arrived to the downstairs laboratory. While everyone was not in the best condition - they were all equally surprised at the presentation before them. Roq'm, the assistant they had met earlier, had arranged one of the tables into a dining table. Each seat was complimented by a plate of chocolate-coated bread, a tin of melted chocolate, and a glass of milk.

"Well this is --" Samuel hadn't how he could prepare such a thing, but he was not quick to ask questions. As they walked towards the table, they noticed a newly unmasked figure - Fontaine.

Fontaine sat at the table, dressed a bit differently. He'd discarded his long coat, opting for a smaller jacket. He wore a pair of sunglasses with only one lens, and his scarred face was partially bandaged around the nose and chin. His forehead was decorated with light burn marks, and his pale eyes were bloodshot. He ignored the group of teenagers.

Melissa went and sat down at the table, her eyes down as she was lost in thought. She didn't feel like wanting to be there talking to anyone. She wasn't tearful anymore, but was slowly filling with anger due to recent events. She looked up at Fontaine and the others to distract herself from her thoughts.

With everyone, except Steven and Brownlee, sitting down at the table, Atticus was deep in thought, confused on the situation with Blossom. *Why did that happen? Is there something wrong with me?*

He then noticed he was sitting right next to the strange man. Instantly recoiling at the disfiguring of the man's face, he struggled to talk. "Er.."

Steven placed himself beside Melissa, carefully observing his sister. For those ignorant of the situation - this seemed like a regular morning breakfast - but to others, it was a meal of mourning. Steven took a fork, and sliced a piece of bread in half; before dipping it into a cup of melted chocolate. He considered speaking to her, but chose to leave her alone. The sweetness of the assistant's dish contrasted with the current atmosphere of regret, sympathy, and confusion.

Chris looked over at Marshall as he sat in his seat next to the strange Halan man. "Excuse me, sir, but who are you?" Chris asked.

"Oh," the old man chuckled. "Silly me, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Wen Li, owner of *Plant Empire*. And you, young man?"

Chris paused for a moment, deciding that he should finally introduce himself to somebody without saying his full name. Not everyone was used to androids. He shook Wen Li’s hand. “Wellington, Chris Wellington. Nice to meet you."

"Hehe, Wellington. What a funny name. Nice to meet you too." The old man walked over to an assistant and struck up a conversation.

"Mr. Li, correct? What assistances do you require?"

"Could you please be a dear and grab a cane for me?"

"Hold on just a moment, sir."

The assistant returned with a fine Halan birchwood cane from the finest craftsman in Silivia.

"Why thank you so much, young man."

Wen Li returned back to the group with his cane and took a seat.

Melissa sat silently watching everyone's interactions as she slowly ate a piece of bread. *Why do I never know what to say? It always seems like I'm where I don't belong.* She thought.

There were no words at the table for several minutes. The boisterous assistant who had prepared everyone's dish had now vanished; leaving the table in silence. The only sounds heard were the clanging of metal forks, and the soft typing of laboratory assistants. Wellington's inquiry to Li had brought a brief life to the table, but it quickly dispersed. The only reason most were willing to sit with the man was due to the information he had on Savannah - yet, it seems he chose to say nothing. Deciding that it was time to conclude the silence, Fontaine prepared to speak.

"Suppose that you were sitting down at this table," Fontaine said, "The napkins are in front of you, which napkin would you take? You'd normally take the one on your left, right?" He chuckled.

"No... It's determined by the one who takes the first napkin. Whichever side they choose, so must everyone follow. In society, one must make the first move. There must have been someone to first decide laws, or the value of money, and everyone must have followed." He'd made his decision, and everyone was going to follow him.

"Uh.." Atticus was the first to respond to Fontaine's sudden lecture. Momentarily, everyone sitting at the table stopped eating to listen further. "But what does this have to do with anything?" said Atticus, as he leaned to get a closer look of the man.

Chris stared at the rambling man sitting across the table, confused and yet also seeing something in him recognizable. But he wasn't quite sure what yet.

Melissa looked at Fontaine and then at the others and was relieved to see she wasn't the only one confused.

Fontaine had finished his meal. "It would be an honor, if you could join me. I assume that, in your little teenage rebellion against Alchem, you've heard of Remnant Rock?"

Staring at Fontaine as he spoke, Atticus quickly tuned his words out as he began to feel light-headed and his vision shifted. Once it had cleared. every surface in the room seemed to be replaced with a mirror-like replica. He put his hand on the table, feeling it sink through like quicksand, though he didn't seem to surprised. An overall apathetic expression rested on his face as he internally screamed.

Though his head had hurt previously and he thought he may have been seeing things, this was an entirely unfamiliar and terrifying situation to be in. Atticus began blinking, attempting to clear his vision as the light was sucked out of the room like a vacuum cleaning dust. Fontaine's sunglasses shattered and the glass hung in the air as two miscolored eyes examined Atticus; purple and gold. Swiftly, the rest of Atticus' companions shifted into tall figures wearing dark robes.

"It would be an honor, if you could join me."

## Epilogue

Hundreds of kilometers away and across the ocean, meanwhile, the elusive Remnant Rock jutted from the seabed like a knife.

Gabriel Alchemilia, the one man behind everything, was engaged in a meeting with various hologram images, each displaying a different chairman of the company. An IV connected to a pulsing vein within his hand as he began to sweat. Though the chairmen were all talking at the same time, making it hard to decipher individual words, Gabriel could tell just from their tones that he was being criticized and spoken down to, presumably over his disastrous decision to hunt down a certain rogue android.

"Alright, I get it!" He gritted his teeth together. "Listen, what about that general who went missing a few days ago...? What's up with the search party?" An old man who looked like a bulldog stared Gabriel down, scoffing.

"We found him in a river with a bullet between his eyes, no doubt a result of those fugitives you were after. In fact, as I was trying to say, I believe we should resume our pursuit of them." With this, the rest of the holograms erupted into arguments, and Gabriel slipped out of the room.

His IV rolled across the floor as he pushed it along the hallway, before grunting and ripping it off. "Who do those bastards think they are?! I'm the one in charge here." His hand grasped an assistant's shoulder. "Get me Operative 239, I've got something to discuss with them."

Risky Decisions >

 S2: