The New World

May 20th, 2025 - Chicago, USA

Weiss picked at his fingers, half paying attention to what the principal was saying at the podium, which was something about ‘the future’ and ‘changing the world’. Flecks of skin dotted his black dress pants like snowflakes. He was so focused on wiping it off that he didn’t notice the speech had ended until the people around him began clapping.

“Stop that.” His mother slapped his hands. “Your sister is about to speak. You’ll be up there soon, so pay attention.” Weiss stifled a sigh and sat up straight, placing his hands properly on his lap.

"Please welcome Lincoln Technical High School’s 2025 Valedictorian, Atsuko Kurosaki Faber!” A girl walked out on stage and shook the principle’s hand. Weiss sometimes thought his adoptive sister looked more like his parents than he did with her long, straight, black hair. He on the other hand, stood out in family photos like a patch of snow on a summer’s day, with grey-white hair he supposedly inherited from his grandmother. She was so old when Weiss knew her that he didn’t know if her hair was always ash white or not.

Kurosaki took the podium and scanned the crowd. When their eyes met, she gave Weiss a small smile. He returned a nod. Then, she took a deep breath and spoke.

July 16th, 2039 - Toronto, Canada

“People of the world, lay down your arms!” Weiss bellowed into the mirror. He saw each twitch of his lips and tongue under bright yellow LEDs as he enunciated each word. The breath from his twice-brushed teeth bounced back into his face. After pausing for three taps of his finger, he continued.

“In this moment of collective strength and unity, I call on you to remake the world into one that can endure. The old world has burnt to the ground, the sins of the past have been paid for with the blood of millions of innocent people. With the memory of the third and bloodiest world war fresh in our mind, we must act while momentum is on our side! We the people finally have the future within our grasp, a short window to right as many wrongs as possible. We must strike while the iron is hos- Fuck!” Weiss fell back into his chair. “Hot! Hot! Hot! -t-t-t!”

The foam walls of the prep room returned it to silence, save for his heartbeat and breathing still heavy in his ears. He dropped the script and brought his palms to his eyes, dragging his hands down his face. A knock came from the door moments before it was opened. He knew it was Kurosaki without having to look based on her familiar footsteps and sigh.

“Thirty minutes until you’re up,” she said. “Are you really that worried about this?”

“Kinda,” he mumbled through his fingers.

“The delegates all know this is just a formality.”

Weiss put his hands down and breathed deeply. The moisture from his breath caused the cool air to tickle his palms. “It’s not them I’m worried about. It’s everyone else. Kids will be seeing this in their history class in fifty, maybe even a hundred years you know.”

“Then it’ll be more memorable if you screw up,” she said with no hint of humor.

“Fuck off. I’m trying to take world peace seriously here.” Weiss glared at his sister and picked up his speech again. “Just let me rehearse in peace.”

Kurosaki leaned against the table and crossed her arms. “Okay, but I didn’t come here just to check up on you. We need to talk about something.”

Weiss let the speech papers fall limply from his hands and scatter onto the table again. “Make it quick.” He gave her a side-eye.

“We’re going to step back after the summit is concluded, leave the rest of the peace process to the others.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Mom and dad rented a vacation home in Nagano.”

“They never did give you that vacation for being valedictorian, huh.” he mumbled.

“What?”

Weiss shrugged. “I said I’m not going.”

Kurosaki sighed. “If you’re worried about the university, they said they’d be willing to give us a special half-year sabbatical.”

Weiss looked away. “I’ve already submitted my letter of resignation.”

“What? Why?” She grabbed his other shoulder and turned him towards her. “You’re department chair, a few more years you could’ve-”

“I can do more from my position here than I could from my position as a professor.”

“That was during a goddamn war!” she snapped. “Weiss, our job is done! Make your speech and then let it be! We’ve brought peace what else do you want?”

“Who exactly will we ‘leave’ things to? Corporations and interest groups that simply want to take as much for themselves as possible? The nations whose leaders are only interested in returning to the world as it was?”

“But we only got here through compromise-”

“Let me remind you that they still have their nukes! What was the point of all of this if we let the strong bully the weak and wield their power however they like? I’d be surprised if war does not return within ten years. And if not in ten, then in twenty. If not twenty, then thirty.” The electric buzzing of the lights gradually returned as the ringing in their ears from the shouting died down. His voice softened. “Kurosaki, we gave the people a dream of a peaceful and united world, so don't tell me to quit when we're so close to achieving it.”

Kurosaki’s eyes landed on the speech at her fingertips. “‘People of the world, lay down your arms,’ huh? God you’re insufferable,” she huffed. Then, she began to gather the papers into a neat stack and handed it to Weiss. “I’m worried about you. I trust your ability and integrity, but ultimately you are just one person.”

He took the papers and set them on his lap. “Then I intend to do as much as I can, and that means changing the world from the podium rather than a lab. You were the one who taught me that.”

“I showed you how to change the world from both.” She poked him on the shoulder.

“So let me put that knowledge to good use.”

Kurosaki’s eyes scanned the rest of the speech, and then she sighed. “Fine. I won’t help you with anything else though.”

Weiss snorted. “Not even a little?”

“Nope.” She gave her arms and back a slow stretch. “I’m going on vacation.”

Another knock came at the door causing Kurosaki to frown. “Isn’t it a bit early for them to be calling you backstage?”

“Maybe something came up.” He approached the door.

Weiss awoke on a hard stone floor with a terrible headache. The scent of summer flowers and the chirping of birds greeted him, along with a pungent, acidic odor of human waste. He was in a prison cell. Bright sunlight from a small opening near the ceiling shone onto heavy, black metal bars, but stopped short of illuminating the dark hallway beyond. He was pretty sure he had seen something similar as a child on vacation in England, where he and Kurosaki clutched onto each other tightly as a guide led them through a dark castle dungeon.

For a moment he simply sat there, unsure of what the make of the situation. The last thing he remembered before waking up was arguing with his sister, but his mind was so scattered he could not remember what it was about or where he was.

“Kurosaki?” he called into the dark. “Is anyone there? Hey!”

A series of slow, echoing footsteps answered him and a man wearing a long blue cloak stepped up to the bars. He had a tall black hat with a number of colored feathers sticking from its side and an antique flintlock holstered at his hip, yet the strangest thing about the man’s appearance were his pointed ears. Weiss wondered how the makeup artist had blended the cosplayer’s skin tone and the silicone so well. Indeed, where else could he be but an elaborate LARPing event?

The man unraveled a long strip of paper from a small metal cylinder and began to recite something in an unfamiliar language. When he saw Weiss’s furrowed brow, he switched to another language which sounded like Italian.

“Um… non capisco,” Weiss managed. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you.”

“Ah, you speak Virdian.” The man cleared his throat and began again in English. “By the authority of the eimeltet, I, Captain Mirled Siklan of the kehnilt, have placed you under arrest for trespassing. You will cooperate with our investigation on your origins and status. Failure to do so may result in punishment including but not limited to monetary fines, enslavement, prolonged imprisonment, and execution.” Mirled smiled. “Capisce?”

Weiss’s jaw dropped. “No! Absolutely not capisce! What the fuck do you mean under arrest?”

“You were found lying unconscious in the eimeltet’s private forest shortly after dawn during a hunting party. Be grateful she put down the bison charging towards you before you were made into a human carpet.” Mirled unlocked the door and gestured for Weiss to follow him. “Though you will still be charged for the bison’s death, two thousand silver dollars to be exact.”

“Bullshit!” Weiss spat. He tried to walk away, but felt something cold and metallic pressed against his head. Being threatened by an elf with a flintlock was almost laughable, however, when the gun was cocked, he could still feel the click resonate deeply inside his skull. He slowly raised his hands. “Let me make a phone call.”

“What is a phone call?”

Weiss wanted to roll his eyes, but held his impatience. “Forget it. Just take me to someone who can get me out of here.” His headache was getting worse by the minute and it was getting difficult to think straight.

Captain Mirled led him down the hall and up a spiral staircase. Weiss peered through small circular windows to see a quaint garden and rolling green hills beyond. A gentle push from behind reminded him to keep moving. After ascending nearly four flights of stairs, they exited the stairwell and arrived in front of a wooden door.

Mirled knocked once. “Captain Mirled brings the stranger from the woods,” he announced sternly.

“Come in,” a woman’s voice responded. It was articulated, even through the door.

The office was small, but it exuded luxury nonetheless. A large window let in plenty of light from the back of the room. It illuminated a beautifully patterned carpet in the center of the office with vibrant blues and reds on top of a dark wood floor. Bookshelves filled with titles in both familiar and unfamiliar languages lined the walls.

An elderly woman with stern, bloodshot eyes sat at a desk in front of the window. Her skin hung loosely to long, bony fingers that nonetheless moved in a smooth, controlled manner as she inspected Weiss’s watch. Unlike Mirled, her ears were human and rounded, though a red mark on her lower cheek reminded Weiss she was also participating in whatever performance was around him.

“Captain.” She nodded at Mirled.

“Neri.” He nodded back. “Have you discovered anything of note, or do we still need the owner to enlighten us?” He pressed Weiss into a chair across from the desk.

“Had his origins been simple, the immigration office would have handled it.” Neri pushed the watch towards Weiss. “It is a fine piece. Are you a noble? Or a landowner from the colonies perhaps?”

Weiss snatched it back indignantly. “I am- was a professor.” He saw that they had also taken his wallet so he gestured at it. “Why don’t you open that up and find out exactly who I am?”

“Ah right, this was what I was about to ask you about next.” Neri took a quarter from his wallet. “This number here is the mint date, yes? 2023. I heard some places in the world do not follow the Magisterian calendar, though even after cross-referencing with our catalog I cannot find any coins from the ‘United States of America’.”

Large beads of sweat were beginning to run down Weiss’s face and his hair stuck to his neck like a matted carpet. His lips were dry and cracked despite the humidity. Were these people immune to the summer heat? “The ID, please just check the goddamn ID.” Weiss gripped his knees tightly.

Neri frowned. “ID?”

“I think this man’s vocabulary extends beyond the typical Virdian lexicon,” Mirled replied. “He was asking for something called a phone call earlier.”

Unable to continue the farce any longer, Weiss shot out of his seat and snatched his wallet. Mirled drew his sword, but Weiss did not care. He pulled a small plastic card from its pockets and held it up Neri’s face. “United Nations Peace Consul.” He enunciated every syllable. “Do you know what that means?”

“No, but please do enlighten us.” She stared up at him blankly, tired, composed, or both.

“It means there is going to be at least a dozen helicopters around here if you do not release me.” A heavy drop of sweat landed on the desk with a loud splat.

“Heli…” A small, apologetic smile formed on Neri’s lips. “Let us put aside this issue for now as it seems we have a linguistic barrier in our negotiations.” She glanced at the card. “Weiss Faber, is that your name?”

Weiss was taken aback. Her earnestness frightened him more than anything else about the situation; it was as if she truly did not understand what he was saying. Before he could formulate a response, Mirled grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back into the chair. His head was spinning.

Neri continued without pause. “Captain, do we have any scholars from Baernvar or surrounding kingdoms?”

“Lady Brunhilde is from Leidenfeld if I recall correctly.”

“Wonderful, please send for her.”

Weiss let his head roll backwards limply. He saw the elf’s ears twitching as he left the room, the sunlight making them glow a reddish brown and revealing threads of pink veins within. "It's not silicone," he murmured to himself. Suddenly, sharp needles pierced through his head and infected every corner of his thoughts. It felt as if his mind was cannibalizing itself.

“Like mother, like son… always playing favorites.” Neri grumbled without looking up. “You could be next if you cooperate. They have an affinity towards the strange ones.”

Suddenly, the space in the office began to melt until Weiss saw two overlapping realities before him. The bookshelves and mirrors and LED lights blended together on the wall. The ink on the papers on Neri's desk shifted until they formed the words 'people of the world, lay down your arms.' Kurosaki's image danced in and out of the space in front of him in angular geometric segments.

“Isn’t it a bit early for them to be calling you backstage?”

“Maybe something came up.” The words came out without Weiss ever moving his mouth. He shot out of his seat and stumbled towards Neri's desk. At the same time, he approached the door to the speech prep room.

Neri backed away in response. "Sit down Sir Faber," she commanded. "Cooperate."

Her words were transparent to Weiss whose head was pounding so loudly he could hardly form a thought. He reached for his speech, but his hands landed on a doorknob instead, causing the door to swing open.

Neri raised her arms and the image of a stranger overlapped with hers. His face was obscured by hers, but the gun he held was clear in the old lady's hands hovering just centimeters away from his face. A sharp pain erupted on his forehead before the world collapsed back into Neri’s office. He saw that her gun was in fact just two fingers pointed at his head, and its bullet was a wooden ball the size of a grape now with a small speck of blood dotting its surface.

Then, Weiss’s head hit the floor and everything went dark.