SHADOWED SUNSTONE | A CASSIUS SHORT STORY

a short story by Lauren Chandler

For Cassius, it was dark poetry in motion. A rhyme with a rhythm of wit and mockery that contained perhaps the perfect makings of a portrait for whatever damned relic of remembrance that would someday be constructed to preserve the summation of what had become of his day-cycle.

The ice cube dropped in his dry Sunbeam Cardinal Liqueur like the perfect soliloquy that Cassius saw it as. The languid plop, splash and the wasted air that bubbled up from the disturbance ruined a perfectly good drink. Cassius was witnessing the perfect visual allegory of the mountain of politics that had tumbled atop his mind and soul the moment he had activated his shift for his morning day-cycle.

Messy, dumb and simply unnecessary.

From where he sat at the bar, Cassius eyed the bartender, expressionless and merely staring. Unfortunately, his body was devoid of the necessary energy to display a perfect expression of the disdainful disappointment trapped inside Cassius’ soul. Was this his breaking point? The small wave that began the tsunami of his collapse?

Though… the bartender was also a friend. George Kellian. Though more of an uncle to Cassius than merely friend, George was the type of person that saw through the allotropy of crystalline structure and identified person from persona. He matched Cassius’ gaze, unfettered, and began polishing a glass.

Cassius pursed his lips. “George-”

“Kid?” George chuckled and gestured to the Melodeon Solaris Lounge’s entranceway. “The look on your face when you walked in? It told me exactly what kind of day you’ve had, and probably-” he seamlessly threw the towel over his shoulder and set the sparkling glass down. “-not one measure of water has been given to that poor yet somehow resilient body of yours.”

With a sigh, Cassius lowered his head on a hand and off mindedly tapped the defiled drink.

“Gotta hydrate you somehow,” George said. Though, he took his time studying the kid. He caught the drift.

For a moment Cassius seemed lost, somewhere else. His eyes were focused on nothing and everything all at once, as if something had pulled him away. Something unseen to all but Cassius. With a deep breath, George started to say something, but was interrupted by a cheer from excited Sodium Waveball fans on the lofted partition.

It jolted Cassius free from wherever his mind had slipped. He flinched and pulsed his eyes narrow with only a glance at George, not willing to hold his gaze. “I don’t make faces,” Cassius said.

“Yes. You do,” George said slowly. Cassius took a sip from the drink and scrunched his eyebrows and lips in disgust. George smirked. “You’re too young to take such poor care of yourself. I can’t have such a-”

“George, if you say it, I’m going to make you listen to Freya’s Anthem eight times in a row,” Cassius said.

George hummed as he considered the sparkle of another glass underneath his bar for a moment. Then, with a gaze that held a sparkle of its own, he looked at Cassius. “I’m not sure how everyone would acclimate to such a dramatic change of genre in the prestigious Melodeon Solaris Lounge, but…”

“They might like it,” Cassius muttered, as another cheer erupted from the lofted partition.

“True,” George said. In a friendly challenge, he squared his shoulders and leaned forward. “But it might, I don’t know, liven the evening, Cassius. The smooth tones of Toneta Brei can get… mellow, after a while, and such a new and spirited beat might be nice for everyone here. I’ve found Freya’s Anthem to be quite charming, myself.”

Cassius reached into his blazer jacket pocket and unceremoniously dropped his Throne device on the counter. “Eight times? Don’t tempt me,” Cassius said, taking another sip. With a look of tortuous disgust, he said under his breath, “Aww it keeps getting worse.” George failed to contain a chuckle. “You’re enjoying this,” Cassius accused. He pointed to his Throne. “I’ll do it. Gladly.”

George’s eyes flinched to the glass and back to Cassius. That gaze held the reflection of someone trained to see beyond the intricacies of someone’s mask. Though Cassius held yet another disadvantage. George Kellian had known Cassius and his family for nearly all of the young man’s lifetime. The facade meant nothing to him. And simply, the dark circles underneath the young man’s eyes were something that couldn’t be hidden anymore.

George’s eyes softened, and he tapped Cassius’ upper arm with a heartfelt and caring smile. “Your old man just cares about you. Wants you safe.”

Cassius nodded with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Oh I know, I know. Just…” Cassius took a deep breath that stuttered slightly with the inhale. “The whole torchbearer thing gets to me sometimes, you know? It gets heavy. I feel it now, more than ever.”

That faraway look returned to the young man, and with a sympathetic sigh, George grabbed for another drinking glass to polish. The glass truly didn’t need another polish, but he wanted something to do with his hands to temper the shake.

“That bad, huh?” George asked carefully.

Cassius’ expression flinched before tapping his glass. He looked out the window. The sight from orbit once gave him solace, seeing a world striving for the stars, hoping for a better future and rising together. Space had always fascinated him, an endless ocean of onyx sparkled with sunstones. He once saw precious ornaments of Elysian sky that promised to light whatever path was next for him.

Now? All he felt was dread when he looked out that magnificent window.

For Cassius, it was as if the sunstones had finally dropped their masquerade and had instead become omens and auguries of an endless onyx abyss through which Elysium may never reach.

In an environment where he was meant to be a torchbearer in the absence of starlight in the night, the crushing sense of responsibility was hard to bear, and he had nowhere to focus action into something tangible.

A large transport ship drifted by. Its thrusters fired in a cacophonic dance as it narrowed its approach vector into the docking area. There were so many ships holding position inside the orbital approach sequence, each hoping that their ship’s designation would be called next, giving those on board refuge. The Midway Space Station had set a new record for how many people were on the platform at a single time. And every hour, that number continued to rise.

“Yeah,” Cassius said, his voice hushed. “It’s not good.”

A clunk of glass was followed by the pour of liquid. George pushed a full glass of dry Sunbeam Cardinal next to Cassius’ diluted glass of liqueur.

“On the house,” George said, meeting Cassius’ glassy eyes with a sympathetic smile. “Anything you can say?”

“No. No more than you already know,” Cassius said. He shook his head and, with a quiet huff, he added while sipping, “Not here. Too many eyes on me.”

“Speaking of…,” George said cautiously, gesturing to the Melodeon Solaris entrance.

Three Zenith Keepers had entered the lounge and were scanning the room. With an irritated groan, Cassius made a motion in the air in front of him as if swiping something away that only he could see and turned toward them. In eerie unison, the Zenith Keepers locked their helmeted gazes onto Cassius.

Two Zenith Keepers began a methodical approach. One pressed a finger to their helmet followed by encrypted warbles, and the third Zenith Keeper remained at the entrance, watching corners and keeping a wide angle on the entire room.

Cassius noticed.

How they moved. How they didn’t. They were on alert. RC-9 Longlight Repeater Rifles were at ready-rest in their hands, an unusual loadout to have during their public-facing patrols. Usually such weaponry was not used openly in order to inspire trust rather than fear among the populous. And simply, that type of loadout was not needed in civilian sectors.

The Zenith Keepers were more cautious and alert than normal.

Cassius flicked his gaze around the lounge, performing a quick threat assessment of his own. It was an awareness he didn’t think he would need here, considering what all of Elysium was facing together in the coming days. Surely, the kingdoms, the conglomerates, the syndicates and other groups could put aside their differences and grievances during this time? Right?

Right…?

Even their stance seemed tense and on edge once the Zenith Keepers reached Cassius. “Sir, at the President’s request, we are to escort you to the Central Spire.”

Cassius glanced at each of their loadouts, trying to get a sense of what rules of engagement they were operating on.

“What echelon is this?” Cassius asked.

“An assembly is gathering to inform you, sir,” the Zenith Keeper said. “Your presence is requested. We are here to ensure your arrival.”

Cassius sighed and tapped his glass again as he thought. He watched the Zenith Keepers for a moment as if he could glean information from just staring into their expressionless, metallic helmets.

He rubbed a hand to his face and swiveled in his chair back to the bar. “Sorry George,” Cassius said. “The meetings don’t seem to end.”

“How long do you think you’ll be?” George asked, still polishing the same glass that, in fact, never needed polishing in the first place.

Cassius gestured wildly in the air and reached for the other glass. “I don’t know…” To George’s surprise, the kid grabbed the glass of Sunbeam Cardinal that had been defiled with ice. “Meeting length?”

Cassius was about to ask George for the tab when the Zenith Keeper spoke out of turn. “You are armed, sir, correct?”

George paused in polishing the glass, and Cassius’ gaze shifted back slowly and bore into the Zenith Keeper despite the agent having no eyes with which to target-lock.

“I am,” Cassius said slowly.

“There anything I should be worried about here, keeper?” George asked quietly.

The Zenith Keeper’s helmet turned to the bartender.

“No citizen, there is not,” the Zenith Keeper said flatly after a beat. Then turning back to Cassius, “We are to deliver you with haste, sir.”

Cassius blinked slowly, and then took a big sip of the watered down glass of Sunbeam Cardinal. Raising the glass to George with a smirk, he said, “Gotta hydrate, right?”

George huffed a nervous laugh and watched Cassius with concerned eyes that said so much more than he possibly could voice in the moment. “That’s right, kid.”

“What do I owe-” Cassius began to ask.

“Oh no no, don’t worry about that right now,” George said, waving Cassius away as the kid raised his Throne device. “Go. Do what you need to and just… pay me back later if you want to?”

Cassius looked at George like he was about to argue, but the Zenith Keeper interrupted him again.

“Sir, we must go.”

“Okay, okay,” Cassius said, getting up. “Sorry George, I’ll close my tab next time.”

George winked with a smile, and Cassius began to follow the Zenith Keepers out of the lounge.

“Hey kid?” George asked.

Cassius turned back, obviously to the chagrin of the Zenith Keepers who were trying to get him out of there. “Yeah, George?”

“Tell your old man once this is all over, I owe the four of you the next round and a trip around the arch. No conundrum this time.”

Although sad and filled with his own torchbearer’s burden, a smile stretched across Cassius’ face that genuinely matched the starlight in his eyes for the first time in the evening-cycle. “I’ll tell him.”

One of the Zenith Keepers actually pressed their hand to Cassius’ shoulder now to guide him toward the door. “Please, sir.”

And Cassius walked out of the Melodeon Solaris Lounge, letting the Zenith Keepers lead him toward his next path, one he hoped would lead to a solution for a sunstone that shone too close and threatened them all.