10:34 AM. Simon-Dach-Straße. Friedrichschain, Berlin. March 18th, 2015.

Morning in Berlin. The sunlit bicycle railings glimmer, defrosting and waking from their slumber. In perfect unison, the bicycles are violently

pulled away from their chains and rode off into the cool breeze. On the pavement, between the cracks, lie small puddles of beer, spilled from

giant mugs in shaky, tipsy hands, a product of Friday night's wild partying. The street looks so peaceful, so domestic in the daytime, but under

the moon's light, turns into a drunken melting pot, vibrating, screaming with laughter and cheers, banging of tables, clinks of glasses, cigar

and hookah smoke swirling around like snakes in the night, dissipating in invisible molecules. The tables are sticky, filled with fingerprints

that slender waitresses try to polish with rapid movements. This is a youthful district, home to students, artists, hipsters, potheads, hidden

geniuses,and also middle-aged "kids" taking advantage of the cheap rent and the vibrant life style. In a city wrapped in suits, this is the rebel

street that wears rainbow colored outfits with mismatched socks and snarls at conformity.

Kim Minseok has found his place here. Walking down the street, ears ringing with beats coming through his massive headphones, palms and neck

sweating, hidden in his pockets and hoodie, he smirks as he takes another drag from his cigarette, letting the ashes fall down, little Phoenix

feathers dissipating in slow motion. He sweeps his bangs over his dark, narrow, puffy eyes. Dark circles reign under his intense stare, aging

this 25 year old college student. It's been 4 years, he thinks to himself. And this is his home now. A group of girls pass him, staring at him

and giggling as they go, nudging each other and whispering. He is used to girls finding him attractive but is not interested. Earth girls are way

more beautiful than girls on his home planet though, he ponders. It's been 4 years. He wonders how he hasn't been homesick yet. Then again he

doesn't believe in the notion that one is defined by the place they hail from, that nationalistic pride flows through one's veins as much as

blood. Then again, he has alien blood so maybe that is why he is different. He seeks to be a wanderer not just of places but ideas. He loves the

creativity, the freedom Berlin gives him. He passes by his favorite building, a piece of art in itself, almost as great as the East Side Gallery

he is heading towards. The story of the great Berlin Wall fascinates him. His favorite album is Pink Floyd's "The Wall" after all (although

"Darkside of the Moon" always gives it a run for its money). This building is drowning in color, a living, breathing Matisse-style canvas with

laughing suns, blue camels, pink crocodiles, rainbows, yin yangs and tragic theatre masks of all shapes and colors. They scream at you to notice

them as they hail good morning to rushed steps and gazes that, sadly enough, seem to forget to look up and take in the masterpieces. "All the

rowboats in the paintings, they keep trying to row away"... he sings outloud, skipping to Regina Spektor's song on his ipod. The song seems to be

an hymn to this glorious establishment, works of art being locked in mausoleums, violins coughing in glass coffins. He wishes everyone could

appreciate art as much as he does.

"Xiumin!!!"

His friends' nickname for him.

Raising his chin and slightly curved nose and sweeping his fringes again, he greets the girl waving at him.

"Oh, hey Mika.."

"Where were you last night, bro? (she has this habit of calling him bro which to him is weird since she isn't a guy, although her name could be

used for both genders). She is half Japanese half German and has dyed jet-black hair with midnight-blue highlights. She always carries around

this hippie purse with millions of bottons showcasing her favorite rock bands, poets, life philosophies and just plain " You"-isms, outdated

cheesy memes and also anime characters she wishes were real.

"I crashed at my friend Bao's house. Why?"

"Well I went to your apartment in the hopes of smoking some of that nice kush you have laying around with you! Maybe you would have gotten

some action for it too, who knows?"

"Umm...no thanks. And yeah, you gotta pay for that , friend or no friend, that 's expensive. I don't give discounts"- and pondering a bit,

deciding to be flirty for her sake "even to fine female specimens such as yourself". All of a sudden, he sounds like Alex from "A Clockwork

Orange", feigning a Cockney accent and taking a bow. Smirking and pursing his lips, he gives her a playful look, that is returned with a sharp blow to his arm.

"Ouch, don't claw me, woman!", Minseok laughs and you can see his icy breath ignite from his lips.

"Woah, what the hell? It's not that cold, how come I can see your breath?", Mika exclaims and people in suits look up and stare at the two

teenagers who, all of a sudden, stand out in the crowd.

Minseok abruptly changes his disposition, shying away and averting the subject.

"Come on, I don't have time to waste, I am meeting this guy on Mühlenstraße. I am selling. I just want to go home and sleep after this, too many

sleepless nights in a row and I need to work on my program. Minseok had many hidden talents, including being one of the best hackers. He loved

messing with systems, cracking codes, using onion routers, proxies, staying anonymous, hidden and godlike in his techy wisdom. It was fun and

diabolical but he mostly used his power for good, not for evil. He retrieved documents that should be available for the public, things the State

loved to hide from its citizens.

Arriving to the 1.3 km long section of the Berlin Wall, known as the East Side Gallery, on Mühlenstraße in Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg, Minseok

hurried his pace, Mika barely trailing behind him. He always stopped before two of the paintings on the wall, the one from Pink Floyd's movie,

depicting characters from the song "The Trial", and of course, the most famous painting, Leonid Brezhnev and Erich Honecker kissing, with the

words "GOD HELP ME STAY ALIVE AMONG THIS DEADLY LOVE" painted red in Russian. He loved the words. He let them trickle down his spine, he digested

them slowly, he pondered them, and sometimes he thought of his home planet. His planet did not know love as planet Earth did.

"Yo, , I was giving up on you!". A tall, skinny blonde punk stood leaning against the art, his boot covering the "A" from "AMONG".

"Take your nasty foot off the wall", Minseok shouted, kicking blondie's foot that swooshed down. I got your stuff, you got the money? Hurry."

They exchanged quickly, though they weren't really afraid of being caught. It seemed like all of Berlin was a giant ashtray full of ganja, the

earthy smell filling the air along with strawberry and cherry flavored hookas and bitter, pungent cigars. The deal was done and Minseok and the

girl trailed off to his apartment.

Kim Minseok lived on the 2nd floor of an old communist building that probably would have looked gray and bleak, like a corpse in the sun, had it

been somewhere in Bulgaria or Romania. But because it resided in Berlin, Germany, it was also painted in crazy colors, covered with grafitti,

courtesy of midnight's rebel poets equiped with the necessary facemasks and spray cans, using the old buildings as their undying canvas,

breathing life into these dinosaurs. For some unknown reason, the letters of the alphabet were printed on the walls hugging the old stairs as

they circled their way upstairs. Opening the door, Minseok went straight for the dark green, leather couch and threw his body on it. His living

room contrasted the brightly-colored building. The walls were a pale white, cracked with gray streaks like an old wrinkled man's face, there was no

furniture, nothing but a plain white coffee table and TV stand. The TV was old-fashioned because he did not care to invest much in it, seeing as

his dual monitored computer he had built himself was everything he really needed. He called it The Beast. Scattered across a black and white rug

were old books, ancient relics of undying wisdom that Minseok treasured. A metallic spinning tap laid forgotten in a corner, as still as the dust

on the washed out book covers. Mika turned Xiumin's bedroom upside down looking for the precious weed and came back triumphantly holding a thin

plastic bag that must have contained roughly half a pound of dank.. Minseok was too tired to fight her off and they ended up quietly rolling

together, lighting up, breathing in and slowly exhaling the smoke together, as their bodies lost tension and their muscles relaxed. It was usually at this point that she

would try to make a move on him, though she realized she had been friendzoned from the start.

"Xiumin..."

"Yes, Mika?" he replied, somewhat exasperated, laying down on the carpet, holding the smoke in longer.

"Can I kiss you?"

Exhaling, Xiumin sighed, turning his head gently to her. He looked so innocent sometimes, she thought, he looked like a child, eyes big and

filled with wonder, pursed full lips and tiny ears she wanted to pull on playfully. His face was round, yet his jawline looked so sharp from a

sideview. She touched his hand gently and he seemed so icy-cold even though the apartment wasn't cold and the weather outside was abnormally warm for this time

of year. It was as if he was made of ice crystals, even his eyes twinkled like snowflakes falling near orange streetlights.

"Mika, we have had this conversation before....I see you as only a friend...I am sorry..."

"We can be friends who kiss then....please....You said I am beautiful..."

"Yes, you are, and I am sure any guy would be lucky to have you and explore your beauty, but that guy is not me"

Mika pouted, her cheeks turning an angry red. Perhaps the blunt had already gone to her head because she leaned into Xiumin, wrapping her arms

around his back and forcing a rough kiss on his icy lips.

"Mika, what in the actual was that? I said no!", he yelled, getting up and pointing at the door. "Get out please, I am not like other

guys, I could so easily take advantage of you and toss you to the curve afterwards but I care too much about you, damn it! Get out!"

With teary eyes and a shaking, pouty lip, Mika got up, grabbing her buttons and swishing and swooshing her jet black hair and midnight highlights

towards the door.

She couldn't understand why he had to be this way. She considered him her best friend but she knew so little about him, he had always been wrapped in a cloak of mystery. She had never met his parents, she didn't know where he came from, though he was obviously a foreign exchange student. He seemed both harsh and soft. His body was always so cold, she just wanted to keep him warm and be free to love him. But he wouldn't have it. All he did was go to school, spend his time in front of the computer doing things she would rather not know about, smoke, grunt and remain an annoying elusive man whose shell she couldn't crack.

"I hate you!"

Mika stormed out the door and Minseok heard her stomping down the stairs and yelling out of frustration. Yes, girls were definitely a complication he didn't need in his life.

Minseok decided to distract himself from Mika and the argument and sleep and go out clubbing afterwards. Berlin was nothing if not the best place to drown your sorrow or stress in music. His program would have to wait. He spent way more time on it than actually going to the Electrical Engineering and Computer Science college he was enrolled in.

As his eyes grew heavy, the window panes became covered in frost, ice crystals forming patterns inside a giant labyrinth.

A labyrinth.

Like a flash, a distant memory pierces Minseok's brain. The labyrinth. Where twelve had entered and only ten had come out. The ten who fled to Earth. He pictures Mr. Sandman's magical powder covering his eyelids and rocking him to sleep before he can trace that thought back to what had happened in a distant past. An icy mist envelops his bed. Unheard and unseen, the spinning tap starts moving in the distant, forgotten corner of the room.