Jyra

  Jyra

  Alternate Dimensions Prequel

  Blake B. Rivers

  Part One

  Ralis 1st, 4702

  Hello. My mother gave me this data-log today and told me I was to treat you as a diary. I do not think I need a diary, but both she and my therapist think it will help me practice my interactions with others.

  I do not think I need to practice my interaction with others either. The children around me are boring, and the adults patronizing. I would rather read, draw, or play with Andi.

  Now that I’m writing to you, I realize this may be a tactic to distance me from Andi. They think it odd that I, a gifted child, would still have an imaginary friend. I suppose it would be less strange to them if they knew she was real, but I do not know how to prove her veracity to them yet.

  Oh, I suppose I should actually introduce myself to you. Not that you are a sentient being, but I researched how diaries are supposed to be used, and the most common utilization is to treat you as an always listening friend and confidant. I suppose that’s meant to be comforting, but I feel it makes me rather paranoid.

  Either way, I will try to comply with my mother’s wishes as best I can. I know it is hard to have a child like me. Most children laugh, and joke, and squeal with delight at the colored lights of the holo-projector. But I always want to know why, and how.

  Anyway, my name is Jyraxic-Vyrinnza, but you can call me Jyra. I prefer that, actually. I was born on Latier to my human mother and half-sierr father. They’re not sure if my intellectual abilities come from his side or a mutation in their genes combining, but I suppose that’s one of the few things I’m not curious about. I know I’m smart; I have too many other things to discover to worry about why.

  I’m nine-years-old, but I am aware I am not like the others around me. It doesn’t bother me too much, but sometimes it is a bit lonely. That is why I am so grateful for Andi.

  I should probably tell you about her. She’s my best friend in the entire world, except I don’t think she’s really in this world at all. Don’t get me wrong, she’s real. Definitely real. She’s just… real somewhere else.

  I can’t really explain it, but one day I would like to. Maybe one day I’ll be smart enough. But for now, I accept the strange world she tells me about. Apparently, their space is very far away and only special people go there. Also, all her people live on a singular planet. It’s quite fascinating in a backward kind of way, but what I love most of all is all the art she shows me.

  She has books of it! Page after page of fighting, flying, and contorting figures. And they’re not depictions of light either, but rather real, actual pigmentation on a physical surface. I would give anything to hold one of those in my hands and breathe in the smell of creation and dust.

  Anyway, I think that is enough talking for now. I do not want you to get bored of me right away. I find myself already projecting my personality onto you, which is quite an interesting phenomenon. I hope you don’t turn out to be a bitch.

  That would be terribly disappointing.

  With cautious familiarity,

  Jyra

  Ralis 9th, 4702

  I apologize for neglecting you for so long. A lot has happened.

  For starters, I got into the gifted school that my parents had applied to. I must admit, I am… less than enthusiastic. I mean, I love learning, and I am certainly excited for the abundance of learning opportunities, but I can already tell that they’re going to try to make me get rid of Andi.

  And I had another meeting with my therapist. He asked if he could read my first entry – if I was comfortable with it. I agreed, of course. I have very little to hide. My father jokes that maybe one day I’ll be smart enough to learn how to lie, but I very much doubt that.

  But back to my therapist. He sat there, neutral as usual. His dark eyes regarded my dictated words slowly and surely. In fact, it was so slow, I found myself getting edgy while I sat there, watching him dissect my inner thoughts. I was surprised at how invasive it all felt, and I found myself suddenly wishing I had never agreed to it at all.

  When he finished, I felt relieved as he handed you back. I held the data-log to my chest like a precious secret, and who knows, maybe you’re becoming just that. And then he looked at me with those dark, dark eyes that were so full of studies and what was known that he could never see beyond that like me. Like Andi.

  “Perhaps you should write in it more like a story. Less like you talking to a friend, and more like a recording of situations and how they made you feel.”

  Of course, I agreed, nodding my head obediently. Strangely, it wasn’t until I was out of his room and taking the shuttle back home that I realized they were probably going to continue to use it to observe my progress.

  I didn’t like that idea.

  So, I did the only sensible thing a girl in my situation could do. I went home, rummaged enough parts up in my workshop, and made a dummy data-log. The poor thing is going to have an unfortunate accident tomorrow, and then Mother will be forced to replace it. You’ll remain hidden, and no one will be the wiser.

  I’ll write things in the new one every now and then. Mostly what they want to hear. But my true thoughts will go in you. I’m sorry for hoping you might be a bitch previously. I see now that that was me projecting my insecurities about being able to forge friendships onto you. After all, you’re just a digital representation of words, not a thinking, living being.

  But still, it’s nice to pretend. I’ll have much to tell you soon, I’m sure of it.

  Your new friend,

  Jyra

  Ralis 20th, 4702

  I.

  Hate.

  This.

  School.

  For a building that is purported to be a place of learning, I feel as if I as I am no more educated now than when I started.

  It all started out well enough. I walked into the stark, white building with the chrome accents, and sat in a class with stark, white walls and chrome accents, in a desk of white with chrome accents. It was all very cog in the machine, even if we are supposed to be the cogs that are more self-aware.

  It was Meeysela who spoke to me first. She was a beautiful sierr girl with lavender-grey skin and massive, jet-black eyes. I could feel her gaze on me from the moment I sat down, and I foolishly returned it.

  “Hello, my name is Jyra. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  See? I was polite! So polite. Social norms dictate that she politely declare her identity back, but she didn’t. It upsets me when people break the rules. Conversations are like equations; you can’t just run off all willy-nilly with them. There are protocols, laws, standards…

  Oh dear, I’m getting a bit carried away. Let me try telling the story again.

  “Hello, my name is Jyra. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “You have hair.”

  I nodded. “Yes. I am glad to see your ability to make and state observances is intact. That will be most useful in your education.”

  “So, you’re some half-kin then, yeah?”

  I sensed something a bit off in her tone, but I couldn’t deduct why, so I ignored it. It was odd that someone in a gifted school would ask me such an obvious question, but perhaps her strengths laid not in the sciences, but in music, art, or language. There were many ways to be exceptional, after all. It was not my place to judge that hers might be different from mine.

  “Yes. My mother is human, and my father is a second-generation half-kin.”

  I realize that you may not know what any of this means. Most likely because you aren’t real, but I will explain for posterity’s sake.

  The sierr are a beautiful, multicolored race that can survive in both aquatic and terra firma environments. They have three sexes: hie, tiem, and hier.

 
The hie were very similar to human males, but they could fertilize both tiem and hier as well as lay eggs. However, they were not able to self-fertilize. They were generally the largest and most athletic sex with the shortest lifespan.

  The hier were similar to human females, able to carry children and give birth to live offspring. They were unable to fertilize other sexes, and were generally the smallest-framed sex, but with the longest lifespan.

  And lastly was the tiem. They were similar to human females in silhouette, but could not carry unborn children or lay eggs. I had read that, upon human’s first integration into this system, them were sometimes referred to as the ‘bombshell’ sex, as they had visually appealing placement of adipose favored by both humans and krelach. This extra fat was an evolutionary trait as the tiem evolved as hunters who could dive much deeper into the dark waters of Latier than the other sexes to bring home bigger game for those bearing or protecting children.

  But perhaps the most notable physical trait of the sierr is that they do not have hair. That is solely a trait of those who have bloodlines mixed with that of humans – i.e., me. Now, during the first generation of half-kin, there was much discrimination, and many terrible things happened. But that had been over two hundred years ago.

  In fact, half-kin won the right to be recognized as full citizens of the United Council of Systems the year after I was born. So, how was I to expect what happened next?

  “Then you’re basically a human.”

  I titled my head and looked at her curiously. “No, I am a quarter sierr and three quarters human.”

  “Whatever.” She made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat and looked forward. “Just keep your nasty hair to yourself. I thought this was a school for superior children.”

  I know now that I shouldn’t have responded, but it was a lesson learned too late. “Gifted. Not superior.” I corrected. “Extraordinary abilities do not make any citizen superior or more deserving of rights. Intellectual elitism helps no one.”

  She looked at me again, her beautiful, obsidian eyes unfeeling, empty, and depthless. Then, slowly, her brow furrowed, and she reached over to shove my pack with all my data-logs and supplies onto the floor.

  Although, logically, I knew dropping items was not a particularly egregious act, I felt as if all the eyes in the room were on me. It was then that I realized that there was only one other half-kin in the entire room, looking at me with pity in a sea of bemused gazes.

  Keeping my face blank, I bent down to pick up my things. It seemed that the very first lesson I was going to learn in these scholarly halls was one that I should have known long ago.

  I did not belong.

  And I never would.

  I arranged myself back into my seat, this time setting my things out of my classmate’s reach, when I felt a familiar rush of energy and shifting of reality.

  “Whoa! What is this place?”

  I looked to my right to see a human girl. She was what my mother called ‘quintessentially adorable,’ with pale skin and a round face with chubby cheeks that were dotted with freckles and framed by wild curls of red hair. She was wearing strange clothes that looked like they were spun of fibers rather than fabricated from plastic or other synthetic materials.

  “School,” I murmured quietly.

  “Huh?” the hei in front of me asked, turning in his chair. His skin was a pale yellow, with fading camouflage markings of ocher and umber.

  “Nothing,” I muttered.

  “Write it down,” Andi said. “Make it look like you’re taking notes or something.”

  I nodded and took out a different data-pad.

  ‘This is the new gifted school I was talking about,’ I said in my head to Andi.

  “Ooooh, shiny. I like it.”

  ‘I don’t think I do.’

  “Why’s that?”

  ‘Later. How is he doing?’

  “Eh. Asleep now. Work’s been driving him pretty hard, so he hasn’t been around much.”

  ‘I see. Do you–‘

  Her head jerked to the side, and reality rippled around her, allowing me a peek into the room around her. The walls were an old, depressing grey, and I recognized what had to be a few toys at her feet.

  “Heck, he’s up now. It’s the weekend. I gotta go. Catcha later, kay?”

  I nodded again.

  “Sweet. Be safe now, Gee-Gee.”

  Another nod, and then she was gone.

  I wish I could tell you that things got better. That other classmates stepped in to stop any more harassment, or that my new acquaintance realized the error of their ways. But that would be lying, and I haven’t quite learned how to do that yet.

  Something tells me, though, that I might have to.

  This new world is very scary, diary. I want to go back.

  With great trepidation,

  Jyra

  Obden 2nd, 4702

  I am sorry it has taken me so long to talk to you again, but every day that I come home from school, I find myself too exhausted to deal with this world anymore. I either seek out Andi or find a good book to immerse myself in.

  I wish I could say that sleep brings me rest, but it is just as taxing.

  Dark nightmares have started to infiltrate my dreams. Gone are images of experimenting, discovery, and scientific pursuit. Instead, there’s fire, screaming, and the glinting of light off impossibly large claws. I do not know what these terrors mean, but I am scared. I spoke to my therapist, and he says that I should keep a log of them if they continue, so I will tell you. Hopefully these are just brought on by the stress of school and Xissa.

  Oh, right. Xissa is the name of the lavender sierr I interacted with on my first day. Needless to say, her disposition has yet to improve. It was very rarely outright cruelty; she never hit me, and she hadn’t touched my possessions since the first day. But that didn’t mean she still wasn’t awful to me. It was in her refusal to ever speak directly to me, in the furrow of her brow when she had to look in my direction. In the tsks of disgust she made when I was asked to present something to the class or called on for a question. And as she gained more influence over the class, more and more began to follow suit. It was isolating, and it weighed on me like an ever-increasing burden.

  It wasn’t even like I needed or craved companionship. But her adamant rejection forced itself into my reality. It was un-ignorable. And I hated it. I just wanted to learn.

  The only people I really have to talk to are the other half-kin, Laquilla, and a set of twin sierrs, who care less about socializing than I do. Not that they’re rude, or anything. They just prefer the company of facts and figures to sentients, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them.

  Andi does make the days go faster. We’ve almost developed a game. She talks to me outright, and I see if I can find answers to her that don’t stick out obtrusively in my reality. I’ve gotten fairly good, but I still have to rely on one of my data-pads half the time.

  I really wish you could meet Andi. She’s hilarious. And brave. She told me once of how she was chased by a furred, fanged beast with white foam pouring from its mouth. She managed to get away by climbing a tree, but then the beast focused on her younger friend who was too small to climb. So, Andi broke off a branch, jumped down from the tree, and swung it at the monster while screaming until it ran away. I don’t think I would be able to do that, but then again, adrenaline does amazing things.

  Who knows, maybe one day you can meet her. I am still determined to prove that she is real. As adept as my mind is at formulating simulations of hypothetical instances, I do not think it could create someone as wonderful and nuanced as Andi. No, I cannot touch her, nor can I touch any of the things I see faintly behind her as she moves, but that doesn’t mean she’s not an actual being. It would be foolish to think that life was restricted to only physical forms.

  Maybe that’s what I would prove one day. That there was a whole entire race of people we couldn’t see, but were just as alive and sentient as us. I wasn�
�t sure why I was able to see just Andi and no one else, nor did I have any idea why I couldn’t see any of the other people in her realm, but she could see mine. However, I had plenty of time to figure it out. After all, it was still two months until I turned ten. I should enjoy the naiveté of childhood while I still can.

  Your tired bastion of a friend,

  Jyra

  Obden 5th, 4702

  I feel terrible.

  My palms are sweating. My head hurts. I’m scared.

  I just had another dream, but it was worse than any preceding it. Much, much worse. It was so real, ripping through my sleep like a shadowy hand with claws of jet black. I will try to explain it to you. I feel like it is incredibly important, but I have no idea why. I do not like having no idea. It is not like me.

  It started like any normal dream. I’m grown, my dark hair pulled up into a bun while I work in a lab. It’s state of the art, of course, filled with technology that doesn’t have a name because it’s not invented yet.

  Facts and figures flit across my holo-display as I puzzled over some equation or other.

  But then, a sound rips through the room. It’s terrible. The rushing of wind, and the screams of hundreds, punctuated by a reverberation that made my teeth rattle. I dropped my pad, letting it clatter to the floor, but the floor suddenly isn’t there anymore. There was only inky, thick nothingness that I plummeted down into.

  Hurtling, falling, colliding – I was being buffeted through the absence of matter like a molecule being stretched by the gravitational pull of a black hole. It was a burning pain, but at the same time I felt like every cell in my body was freezing. I screamed, but no words came from my mouth.

  Then, just as abruptly as it happened, the darkness exploded away, and I was treated to another visage. It was of a space station. But instead of a bustling commerce of space dwellers, it was a massacre. The air smelled of blood and burning, and bodies littered the floor as far as I could see. Every species I had ever heard of were all violently eviscerated. It was a cacophony of violence – a symphony of death, and I could not look away.