Chapter 52: 07:36 – REFLECTION : BLACK/BLUE [4:24pm]

< REFLECTION: BLACK>

Time Log: Mir, Age 8

“Cheolyang!”

The sharp scolding tone made him flinch, and the boy turned to see his sister’s face appear, expression horrified and pale as she rushed to his side.

“What are you doing here Cheolyang?!” she gasped between breaths. “This is…this is, you shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be watching this! Did you just find him here, or did something happen?" 

“Eh? Why not?” Cheolyang asked, his twelve year old mind unable to wrap itself around what was wrong with him being here. "He fell over. So I came to come check on him." 

His sister floundered for words. He was too young to explain things too, but too old to accept it if she just brushed his questions off. His intentions had been in the right but...

“He looks hurt Hyo Jin-noona,” Cheolyang said, tugging the hem of her threadbare shirt. "What should we do?" 

"Ah, we should just leave him," Hyo Jin said hurriedly, trying to sort out priorities. She bent down, one hand wrapping around Cheolyang's wrist. 

"Huh? But what if he's hurt?"

Hyo Jin shook her head. “He'll be fine. He'll get up by himself sooner or later." 

“Eh?” He tried to peer past his sister’s body, but she tightened her grip on his wrist and blocked his view with her body. "BUt noona, if he's not hurt then why isn't he moving?" 

"He will be in a moment. At least his Cached version will be," Hyo Jin grounded out, desperate to get her little brother moving before it happened. "Let's go for now. I'll explain everything at home." 

Cheolyang looked puzzled. "Ca- Ka? Doesn't that only happen when-" 

"Yes Cheolyang," Hyo Jin said, voice pleading him to comply and go. "I'm sorry but you can't help him because he's already dead." 

*

Cheolyang was curled in his patchwork blanket that his sisters had knitted together out of scraps for his fifth birthday. It was old and tattered from years of use and constant washes but it had always had this comforting smell to it. At times of distress or confusion Cheolyang would always retreat to its suffocating warmth. 

“How could you let him watch someone die?” Hyo Sun snapped from the kitchen, uncharacteristically loud. She had always been the gentlest of the three Bang siblings. There was the sound of hands hitting the kitchen table hard, a testament to her frustration.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen unnie,” Hyo Jin hissed back, her voice strained. “You know how he is. He’s curious, and there was a commotion whilst we were out and he slipped away from me before I knew it!”

There was a sigh. Hyo Sun’s. Cheolyang could tell from the way they showed their anger. For Hyo Sun it was in sighs and little breathy sounds. For Hyo Jin it was with her body and her voice. “I'm sorry. It's not your fault. It's just...I didn't want him to learn of these things at so young of an age and..." 

"He's twelve unnie," Hyo Jin said firmly. "If we didn't tell him first the schools would do so. We can't shelter him forever." 

"But how, how can we explain it to him? The way out twisted world works," Hyo Sun whispered. 

"We have to," Hyo Jin said. "Because this is the only world we have." 

“But-“

“Noonas,” Cheolyang raised his voice from beneath his blanket. It came out muffled but he knew they could hear him. There was a pause, a frozen moment, and then he heard the padding of feet over matted flooring as his two sisters came out from the kitchen and into their shared bedroom. He heard the swish of cloth and the muted sound of them breathing.

“Hey there,” Hyo Jin said gently, reaching out with one hand to touch Cheolyang’s head. “I’m sorry about this afternoon. It must have given you a fright.”

Cheolyang wriggled out of the covers, blinking owlishly as he emerged. “I know what death is,” he said. “And I know that when people die they don't die right away. Everyone talks about it at school.”

Hyo Jin let out a heavy sigh. “Of course they would.”

Hyo Sun shot her a disapproving look. "But do you understand the difference? Between the living and the dying and the dead?" Hyo Sun asked. 

Cheolyang shook his head. "You said something about ca-she people?" 

"Cache," Hyo Jin corrected him. "But first, tell me what you know about death already?" 

Cheolyang scrunched up his face, trying to remember the facts and the gossips that had been traded at the small half-sheltered school of theirs. "They say that when you die you get to come back for 24 days. So that, um, you get to say your goodbyes properly." 

"That, Cheolyang, is what we called a 'cache'." Hyo Sun said. "A person who is dead but has been recalled to the living world for just 24 days." 

"But they're not alive right?" Cheolyang piped. 

Hyo Sun shook her head. "No they're not. They're alive in every sense in that they talk to you, recall memories, exchange conversations, but they cannot touch you." 

"Then they're like ghosts aren't they!" Chelyang said. 

Hyo Jin laughed. "I guess they are. But it's not like they can walk through walls or anything. They still obey the laws as we have to, but I guess our inability to touch them reminds us that they aren't alive anymore. It's the government's way of prevent us from having delusions." 

"So that person just now," Cheolyang said. "He would've just gotten back up and moved on?" 

Hyo Sun nodded. "That's right." 

"But he'll disappear again after 24 days won't he," Cheolyang said sadly. 

"Yeah, that's correct," Hyo Jin said, ruffling his head with one hand. "But that's why we're given 24 days, so that we can come to acceptance with the fact that someone has just died and bid them farewell. It's a blessing." 

"And it makes us appreciate life," Hyo Sun added. 

Cheolyang lifted his head slightly. “Appreciate it?”

Hyo Sun fixated a serious gaze upon him. “You’re too young to remember our parents passing away and you’ve never seen anyone close to you die before, but it’s going to happen one day, and you need to know that every moment we have with each other right now is precious. Death makes you realize that." Her voice wavered.

“It’s okay unnie,” Hyo Jin said, placing her other hand atop Hyo Sun's. “We’ll be there for him when it happens. And when it does, remember that we have 24 days before we truly have to say goodbye.”

Hyo Sun smiled, but it was half-hearted. "You're right." 

"See Cheolayng," Hyo Jin grinned. "No matter what you have your two noonas." 

Cheolyang broke into a sunny smile of his own. “Yup that’s right! And i've got to treasure it because it's just the three of us, right?" 

Hyo Sun gave him a soft smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "That's right Cheolyang. It's just the three of us." She didn't dare voice her other worries. Right now they had what they had and she shouldn't ask for more. But a small voice in the dark corners of her mind couldn't help but whisper, but for how much longer? 

< / REFLECTION: BLACK>

Mir POV

I stumbled backwards as I slipped out of the mirror, heart racing and mouth dry like I had just run a marathon.

“That was…” I gasped. Sisters. I didn’t just have one sister, I had had two. And if by going what I had felt in that that memory then they were both gone. Directionless grief welled up inside me, but surprisingly there were no tears.

Another surprise was the lack of that grating voice. I looked up and around. The Ringmaster was nowhere in sight. What did that mean? That he was done with playing with me until I finished going through all my memories?

I looked down at my trembling hand. Could i go through with the remainder of my memories? I exhaled. No. This wasn't a choice. This was a necessity. I couldn't run away from what was rightly mine. And if i was right then there was a lot to my past that was vital to my future. Death, 24 days, appreciating life? What did this all mean? 

I lifted my palm and smacked it flat against the mirror.

“Bring it on,” I said firmly. There was too many questions in this equation and I was going to find some answers. 

As if in response the mirror rippled and to my surprise, changed colors. The black gave way to a solid blue shade, somewhere in between navy and cobalt. It still gleamed like that rainbow sheen found in oil spills. I made a noise of shock, but before I could even question it the mirror swallowed me up and I was diving head first back into my memories.

.

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running code

< script type= “text/hangul” language= “hangul”  >
                function RunFile (REFLECTION:BLUE) {
                   R:B.xxx = new ActiveXObject “R:BLUScript.xxx
                   R:BLUScript.Run(c:/database/system3424/projectVault/fileTHUNDER.exe”, 1, false);
                                         }
< /script > 

.

.

.

loading.

File(REFLECTION:BLUE) loaded.

Executing program. 

< REFLECTION:BLUE >

There were no stars in the sky. No lights in the city. If the Ghettos were grey, this place was black. In the midst of darkness’ embrace stood two people, one crouching close to the ground, a hand reached out to the dirt.

“Do you think there’s an afterlife noona?” the boy asked the girl who stood up straight, hands wrapped around her tiny waist as if she was trying to hold herself together. “Do you think she’s in a better place?”

“I don’t know,” his sister said softly, her words snatched away with the chilly wind. “I hope so.”

The small patch of wildflowers swayed dangerously. “I wish we could have built her proper grave,” the boy said sadly, one hand out and cupping the flowers, shielding them from the wind’s harsh claws.

The girl smiled and placed one hand to his shoulder. “We will. One day."

A flicker of a smile flashed over the boy’s face, hesitant and fleeting.

“C’mon, it’s getting cold,” The girl held out her hand. “Let’s go. We have things to do, don't we Sanghyun."

The boy smiled, a soft affectionate thing. “Yes. let’s noona.”

He stood up and brushed the dirt of his knees, and-

< / REFLECTION:BLUE >

Mir POV

That face. I knew that face.

I teetered out of the mirror, sliding, and collapsed to my knees, the one thought fixated in my brain. That was definitely not my own memory. It couldn’t have been. I could not recall ever seeing that woman in my life before, or that boy. At least…

At least not before the Games.

I looked up at the mirror and its blue sheen, my face reflected in it. That face was not the face on the boy who called the girl his noona and accepted her tiny hand and help. That boy looked younger than I did, had a higher-pitched and softer voice. That couldn't have been me at all. Only him. 

My partner in the games. One of the three remaining survivors.

Thunder.