Emily clutched her single loaf of bread, standing alone on a balcony. Her stomach ached, begging for sustenance. Her dingy, tattered beige shirt clung to her pale skin. She stared down at the pedestrians leaving roses and masquerade masks at the feet of painters, musicians, and dancers.
"PRIME!" the citizens sang below like a mantra.
The word crawled up her spine like an echo of a distant memory. The crowd's Prime Day cheers made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Emily looked up at the sky, then towards the massive eldritch machine with a swirling mulberry core, hovering above Leonore like a moon. Its slate-grey gears were too many to count.
Emily's nostrils flared before she turned around and headed back into the mall. Her dirty, weathered boots creaked on the wooden floor, catching the sunlight that filtered through the mosaic windows. She glared at customers who paid top coin for mass-produced art. She pushed through the crowd, wincing each time she heard detuned notes coming from musical instruments.
"Watch where you are going, street rat!" a pedestrian yelled when she bumped into him.
Emily fell to the floor. "Sorry," she muttered, staring at the sea of people stomping on her bread without a care, too fixated on shopping.
The pedestrian shook his head and scoffed. "Sorry? It's Prime Day, and scum like you taint my beloved city. Leonore deserves better … my taxes deserve better!" he snarled. "You smell like sweat and trash. The ENGINE should get rid of homeless peasant scum."
"We got a problem here?" a baritone male voice asked, pushing his way through the crowd.
Emily's gaze turned towards the approaching man; his brown irises stared down at her, then up at the pedestrian insulting her.
"No problem," the pedestrian replied, avoiding the dark-skinned man's glare before fading back into the crowd.
The man scratched his salt-and-pepper beard, then looked down at Emily. "Are you alright, kid?" he asked. He outstretched his hand, thickened with calluses, towards her.
Emily rubbed her elbow, then stood up, rejecting the man's help. "Thanks … but I had it handled," she grumbled, staring at the man's utilitarian clothing and tactical jacket.
"Sure didn't look like it," he replied, crossing his arms. "You hungry? I'll pay... what do you wanna eat?"
"I'm not hungry."
The man dug some coins out of his pocket. "Take it," he said, wrenching Emily's hand open and placing the coins in her hands.
Emily blinked as she looked at the money.
"Get something to eat," the man insisted, releasing her arm, then walked away.
Emily clutched the coins. "Hey … who are you?"
The man stopped and turned around. "Elijah Thompson, and you?"
"Emily."
Elijah nodded, then pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and faded into the crowd without saying another word. Emily stared at the breadcrumbs on the floor, mind lingering on Elijah's outfit. She had never seen someone dressed like that in Leonore. Emily placed the coins in her pockets, eyes drifting towards the restaurants down the hall.
The scent of perfume, paint, and cut flowers lingered in the air. Baroque-influenced music echoed down the corridor as she made her way further into the mall. Laughter and smiles lingered on people's faces. Freelance artists painted intricate landscapes and animals, selling them for a premium, while magicians wove glowing mulberry ether in the air like dancing fireworks. Emily strolled past, fixating on the smell of cooked waffles lingering in the air from a nearby food court.
"Scram, kid... I already told you last week. No money, no food," a chef yelled as Emily approached.
"I have money," Emily replied, digging into her dingy pants for the coins Elijah gave her.
"You stole this?" the chef asked, looking at the coins in her hand.
Emily shook her head.
The chef rolled his eyes. "I ain't buying it. You came here last week begging, and now you have enough money to buy everything on the menu. Get lost, kid. I can't believe you would steal on Prime Day."
"I didn't steal it! A man gave it to me."
"Where is this man?"
Emily rubbed her arm. "I don't know... he left, but his name is Elijah."
"Alright, locate this Elijah person and return here."
"But."
"No, Elijah, no service...now scram."
Emily cursed under her breath, then hung her head down. She urged her body to move, though each step felt like she was wading in quicksand. Her stomach ached as she observed people dumping food into the nearby trash can. Their smiles and laughs burned her soul. She creaked open a door that led to the mall's trash dumpster complex.
Sour oranges and mold hit Emily's nose when she passed the dumpster before climbing a ladder. She tiptoed over to the nearby building, staring down at the gleeful festivities below. Birds flew past her, perching on power lines and trees. Emily balanced herself, waiting for the gust of wind to pass, then jumped over to the nearby building rooftop. She could hear the citizens below singing while she traversed the rooftops to an abandoned cathedral.
Every hundred years we gather.
Every hundred years, we sing.
Watch the ENGINE choose tomorrow.
See what new age it will bring.
Emily lifted a makeshift tarp, and inside was a dingy mattress, a cello, and a journal.
Twenty-five from nations wide.
Marked by masks, they cannot hide.
Walking paths of those before.
They forge themselves in plight!
"Idiots," Emily grumbled, sitting down on the mattress and grabbing her journal. "Singing about their own graves," she muttered, scribbling lyrics in her journal.
Mulberry bleeds through the ENGINE's play.
It casts its strings across the stage.
Stitch by stitch, chosen craft their dress.
Rehearse their lines, follow the script.
Emily sighed, closing her notebook, then reaching for her cello. She closed her eyes and plucked the strings, searching for the right frequency. Her eyes dilated as the note hummed in her ear. Her body reverberated like heavy bass. The world shook like an earthquake; the ENGINE was waking.
PRIME - The number stands alone!
PRIME - Ascending to the throne!
PRIME - One hundred seek the call!
PRIME - But only one rules all!
Emily inhaled, then dropped her cello. The hair on her arms stood on end as the crowd sang. She lifted the tarp and looked up toward the sky. Her mind started to get hazy, legs trembling, insisting that she should kneel when she looked toward the ENGINE.
We celebrate PRIME!
The century's design.
We celebrate PRIME!
When a mortal becomes divine!
The ENGINE gears churned as the world chanted PRIME. Emily gulped, her eyes frozen in awe. Her emerald eyes observed the gears of the ENGINE creak like a rusty grandfather clock. She fought internally to move; each step felt harder than the last. Through willpower, she forced herself towards the fire escape, towards the streets below.
Children dream of being chosen.
Artists, builders, minds of steel.
But the ENGINE sees much deeper.
Than the power we can feel.
The intricate Victorian architecture of Leonore trembled under the ENGINE. The marble statues that lined the cobblestone streets wept. Every citizen sang while staring up into the azure sky, kneeling in the ENGINE's presence.
Not the strongest wins the summit.
Not the smartest breaks the seal.
But the one who understands that God must know how mortals feel.
Emily stared up at the massive clock in the middle of Leonore. She took sharp breaths; her heart pounded in her chest. She refused to kneel like every citizen around her. The clock clicked over to 12:21 P.M., and then a loud, otherworldly hum reverberated through her body. The ENGINE's mulberry eye opened, bathing the sky and Leonore in eldritch divinity.
The ENGINE chooses the worthy, finds the PRIME!
The ENGINE chooses the worthy, finds the PRIME!
The ENGINE chooses the worthy, finds the PRIME!
The ENGINE chooses the worthy, finds the PRIME!
The ENGINE chooses the worthy, finds the PRIME!
The ENGINE chooses the worthy, finds the PRIME!
The ENGINE chooses the worthy, finds the PRIME!
The ENGINE chooses the worthy, finds the PRIME!
Emily's body shook as she looked up at the ENGINE. Her mind went blank. The ENGINE's core pulsed with the color of mulberry, swirling like a black hole. She sensed its unwavering, ominous stare. A power hummed within her that felt like it had always been there. Time seemed to stop. Her eyes twitched while she stood alone in defiance. Seconds later, her face lit ablaze.
PRIME!
PRIME!
PRIME!
PRIME!
Emily screamed and clawed at her face. The flames engulfed her right cheek, spreading towards her hair. Flames also engulfed two other citizens kneeling nearby and a familiar face wearing tactical gear. Masquerade masks manifested from the embers, each one a different color from the other.
PRIME - Today, the cycle turns!
PRIME - The ENGINE's eye discerns!
PRIME - Among us walks the one!
PRIME - Whose pilgrimage has begun!
Tears dripped down Emily's face. The flames evaporated into a plain white mask on the right side of her face. She stared at her trembling hands, then scratched and pulled at her face, but the mask would not come off. The burning sensation in her nervous system crawled up her legs, then down her spine. The ENGINE's mulberry core closed, its gears creaked as the clock behind Emily turned to 12:22 P.M.
The mulberry faded, revealing pristine blue skies once again. Pigeons and ravens took flight. Citizens stood up, their eyes gazing up towards the slumbering ENGINE, then towards those whom the ENGINE had marked. Emily felt their eyes on her. She glanced over towards the dark-skinned man with black steel-toe boots. She recognized Elijah behind the gray mask upon meeting his gaze.
Emily stared wide-eyed at the cobblestone road beneath her feet. She then forced herself to look up at the ENGINE hovering above Leonore. Her mind spiraled, while the citizens gazed at her with bewilderment.
"I'm going to die," she whispered to herself as a tear dripped down her cheek.