Lost in thought on Ore’s bridge, Heather didn't notice the noise at first. As that strange popping sound began again to grow louder and faster though she snapped out of her daze and scrambled to her feet. A quick glance at her watch confirmed 18:12. Bounding to the bottom of the bridge's steps and peering around, what she saw was unlike anything she had anticipated. There was no fire, or person, no object she had a frame of reference for at all. 

It looked like a floating globe. A perfect sphere, and much bigger this time, the size of a beach ball. What made the object so alien were the small details, the pattern of intricate entities that made it up, appearing like static until Heather noticed them weaving in what she could only describe as a choreographed dance. And the way it rippled the world around itself, it looked at the same time like a floating pool of water in the air, a billion microscopic pond skippers waving their way across its depths. 

Then as her jaw dropped, blossoming across its surface, a thin coat of brilliant flames burst into life. Never leaving the surface, but also not appearing inside it, the coils of plasma swayed in flowing storms, like a projection, but unmistakably real. The orb whipped up leaves and debris around it as it shimmered, like a tiny star. No heat reached where Heather stood. She was sure, if unsure why, that she could have stood right next to the orb and, provided she did not touch it, felt nothing but the natural breeze, as if it did not exist in the physical world. Then, as swift as it had appeared, it was gone, dissolving before her eyes into a billion minuscule specs, A thousand tiny dots of white, like the stars that above her were beginning to paint the skies.

Heather stood, staring open mouthed at where the orb stood moments ago. As amazing as the show was, getting a direct view left her none the wiser. While no scientist, Heather could at least conclude it was freaking weird, and not what any rational person would expect to see at a random train station. To be blunt, Heather wasn’t sure what a scientist seeing that up close would even have to say.

On Ori, Halos had to grab a chair for support. His legs had almost collapsed beneath him when the fire bloomed. As a species, Oriaens had less muscle and muscular tension than their ancestors before them, a consequence of centuries of weakened gravity. That was not why he felt weak at the knees though.

There was no denying it now; the conditions were almost identical to those on record of the Oriaens home world. His great ancestor's experiment worked. Halos felt an overwhelming palette of conflicting emotions. He felt pride, an emotion he had never felt before. A hint of smugness caressed his thoughts, vindication for generations of mistreatment. His prevailing sense though, was fear. He felt that same chill again this time stronger. He knew if word broke of this discovery, his people would let him be free. Gratitude was pushing it a little far, but they would see no logic in further containing him. A chance at a normal life at long last. 

Except that was the rub, this was too perfect. After so many generations of ridicule, he could not expect to have supreme confidence and this felt far too easy to be this simple. Moreover, if the catch was too great, if the world was water with no solid ground or the opposite, a barren desert, he shuddered at the thought of what his people would do. As a species, Oriaens were not renowned for their sense or use of empathy, or mercy. And there was the other thought too.

“Our choice…”

Halos didn’t quite realise the words escaped him out loud, just as they had his father’s so long ago, and he wheeled round on instinct to check for Varsus. It took him a moment to rationalise that, were his guard standing there, the least of his problems right now were talking to himself. He tried to grapple with the weight and plethora of choices now set out before him. It was as he did so that he noticed from the corner of his eye the line of numbers near the base of his closest screen. It was a small part of the information on his screen, but those figures gave him an idea.

The craft had detected a power source nearby. Halos was not sure what the mystery power source would be, unless parts of the planet were good conductors of electricity. A swamp that was able to act like a natural battery seemed a strong bet. It was a bit out there but it wasn't impossible.

Footsteps. Halos realised he'd been daydreaming and Varsus really was returning from the surface now. Varsus he reasoned could not make sense of his data but even so, he wiped the screen. If he was to share the discovery, the time was not right yet. He wanted to do at least one more experiment first to test a theory. This new power source no matter how strong would be vital to its success.

Wait and have a little hope he thought to himself. One more day, to be certain that he was on the verge of turning around thousands of cycles of scorn.

And on Earth, Heather turned back once more before leaving Ore, at the start of the long ramp to the street above. She too had hatched a plan, though hers was a little simpler, more a promise to herself than any real scheme. She would need a little luck and to hold her nerve, but tomorrow she may be able to solve the mystery of the supernatural orb once and for all.

****

Waking earlier than usual on Saturday morning, Heather’s mind locked on her singular goal. So focused in fact that she had a close call with the bedsheet as she caught her foot exiting the bed. Her flailing arm grappled the edge of her desk saving her from an unpleasant accident, and scattering the table’s contents across the floor. It took her a few blinks to realise anything had happened.

For the most part the clutter was her many doodles that had teetered on the edge of her workspace. These were drawings of quasars, pulsars and nebulae, mixed with more abstract patterns; her love of space never abated in the slightest with age. The pinnacle of this infatuation faced her as she collected the pictures. Her ornate looking telescope stood gazing at the heavens, shining in the sunlight. She admired it as she picked up the debris, and placed it back in the same unordered pile on the desk once more.

Beside the desk sat a book pile that came close to dwarfing it. Heather had never been a believer in shelves. Books to her looked so much nicer in neat twisting piles, appeared used and read, as hers often were. Each fact, quote, glowing nebula to imagine, alien world comprehended, appreciated, loved. The one atop the pile stood out most of all. She found herself looking at the beautiful cover now, her mind drifting back to the day it had come into her life.

It had not snowed that Christmas; this wasn't a surprise for the south east of England. The crisp air of that winter morning still held that taste of anticipation. She could still remember seeing it beneath the tree that year; Connie had always had a flair for presentation, hence her passion for cakes and cafés.  This more than translated into the layout of gifts beneath the tree: each present lay in the elegant show-window spread, wrapped in chocolate–coloured paper, tied with rainbow string. There was not a single stretch of sticky tape in sight. They twisted in small piles around the tree, all sprinkled with a covering of pine needles. The aroma of the tree hung over the postcard image as the little girl gazed at it in awe. 

Connie always left laying out the presents until the last minute to add to the effect. However, being savvy and wasting no time Heather had snuck downstairs as soon as she was sure the coast was clear. There was no other noise in the house beside the faint whistle of the wind outside the window.

"You're up early?" came a call from behind her. She had jumped about a foot in the air - impressive when she had barely three to work with - and wheeled to see her father Marley standing in the doorway. He wore a dress shirt, like he always seemed to do, and his black rimmed glasses, along with a mischievous expression. "Is today supposed to be special?"

"It's Christmas!" she answered, incredulous blinking in that way young children are masters of. Marley gave a sly smile and tilted his head, his glasses catching the glint beyond the gap in the curtains.

"No it isn't?" he said, cocking his head in puzzlement.

"What?"

"It's not Christmas today."

"No, no it is!" It was, why else would the presents be out like this? The child wheeled frantically, looking at the tree as if asking for backup. The tree didn’t so much as shrug.

"Are you sure? It says November 25th on my watch, see?" Marley said, holding out his wrist where his shiny metal digital watch caught the early light of day.

"What?! No! No let me see?" She leapt across the room in two strides and grasped his arm, looking in utter confusion. To her total horror, the watch indeed had read November. "But, but..."

"Hmm, how strange."

"B–b–but..."

"Why don't you check yours?"

"But I don't have a–" She began, before realising she was being handed a long thin box. She stared at it stunned, before the light bulb went on inside her head. Heather took hold of the small box. She opened it, took one look, squealed with delight and threw her arms around him. Marley held her tight back. 

"Happy Christmas Heather." 

They had been a complete family back then, a normal family. That had been a good year. The little details of that day were still fresh in her mind. Like when Marley feigned having lost Connie's present, then realised he’d lost it for real. The panic as he ran around searching for it left the pair in stitches. However, the other moment that stood out the most came in the afternoon. In dark times, she held on to this core memory. A part of that she knew was childhood naivety, but it had made sense, had been good; they had been a real family.

"Open this one next." Connie was carried away in the excitement of the day, letting herself to escape to the glorious mind of that special age.

Heather had at last torn open the packaging on that centrepiece gift. Her eyes lit up at the big, beautiful full cover art of the hardbound book. A red supergiant star, not a perfect circle but a billowing irregular fireball. Wild, huge, chaotic and misshapen in all its glory. Huge arcs of solar flare painted in overwhelming intricate detail. The book itself was a detailed stargazing guide, but Connie picked it because of the cover.

On the inside sleeve, a brief book synopsis and a picture of a Californian observatory took up most of the space. Below though was a basic diagram of a constellation. A red arrow was pointing to the mysterious red star at Orion's shoulder.

"It's Betelgeuse!"

"That's right," Connie beamed, "our star. Isn't it beautiful?"

Heather's big grey blue gleaming eyes said it all, alight like the stars themselves. It was clear looking back at them how significant this gift was. It almost seemed, still image or no, to radiate the warmth and safety both had looking up at the stars together.

“Heather?”

It took her a moment, holding her back of supplies and still away with the fairies, to realise that noise came from the here and now. She turned towards the doorway.

"Heather?" Her mother stood, not quite on the threshold; she avoided coming into Heather’s room. Even standing in the doorway was a little odd these days. She kept her distance unless they had made plans for the day… 

“Oh. Sorry.”

"That’s ok. I, just wanted to see if you still felt like going out today? I sort of have a place in mind. It's Saturday, remember?"

The silent wave crashed over her with a drowning rush of anxiety and guilt. She had forgotten her mother's request, a cold wash of shame choking her breath in a coldsnap. There was nothing stopping her going with her mum instead but for the frosted and impenetrable glass sheet lay between them. Though they looked right at each other, neither could see nor reach the other, the distance clouded with all the regret.

"Wait–" Heather blurted. Connie had turned to leave but stopped, the noise had shocked her in the otherwise silent room. She turned to face her daughter through the veil. "Look, why,why don't we go, I dunno, a walk, for a walk?"

Connie knew that even now so long after the fact her daughter's trust was going to take many years to stabilise. She always braced herself for a level of rejection, knowing better than to hope. Heather's request showed at least, that hope was not futile yet.

"No, no Heather if you made plans today with friends, we can do it another time."

"Well, tomorrow?" Heather said, her voice bordering on the desperate.

"Ok." Connie spoke a fraction above a whisper. As her mother closed the door Heather waited, trying to hold firm. As it clicked shut, she allowed herself to turn back to the bed and her bag, and wiped at her eye with her sleeve. Heather wanted nothing more than to trust her mum again. If she stopped pushing her away, she thought that could happen.

Hours later, Heather sat on the bridge at Ore, with so far no sign of the event. Three o'clock came and went, as did four, and then five. Shivering, Heather watched the seconds on the watch reach their pinnacle, dragging the minute hand with them, and ticking over to six. As if in harmony beneath her, the empty carriages of the Service to Ore pulled off to who knew where. Well, they would clean and send them back at 18:22 as the service to Brighton of course. All the same, it did look like it was passing round that corner to another world as she watched it file away.

At 18:11, she already stood at the foot of the bridge, peering round, hoping this would be worth the wretched day. For the first time, Heather was able to witness the orb's formation up close, to see its details. The sphere rippled like a murky lake at dusk, caught in small glimmers of light. Heather felt a strange calm looking into the wash of lights, waiting for them to flare up again. Except the orb did not flare up this time.

Lightyears away, Halos studied the readout, wondering if this audacious plan could even work. He knew the nanocraft could transport almost any particle back and forth, in theory. Rather than replicating the particles, the bots could ‘pull’ them, for want of a better term, out of the universe. It then assembled and dropped them back on the other side. With his changes, the bots that made up the sphere could now transport light, exchanging the particles in his lab with the ones on this new world, and showing him an image of it for the first time. Again, in theory.

Where theory ran into cold, hard reality was when he factored in the energy required. On their own and so far from any Oriaen power supply, the bots' had limited capacity. What little solar power they could draw sufficed to power their basic functions, but this experiment called for energy on a much grander scale, a bot-side source of power greater than solar.

And of course, last night, he detected just that. Whatever its source was, it ran nearby to the crafts, and while he couldn’t be sure how much power it contained, he only needed the tiniest amount more. Not playing coy, he sent instruction to draw as much as the bots could; if it was some bog or other natural battery, that shouldn’t overwhelm them, so what was the harm in removing the cap for the amount of power the bots could draw in?

"What’s the worst that could happen?" Halos consoled himself, and brought the lever down. 

And in that moment, the Multiverse shattered.

*

Heather was lucky to survive.

Out of nowhere, and with overwhelming force, a bolt of lightning surged from Ore's tracks, while an even larger one volted with a deafening roar from the power station nearby. They collided with such rage that the shockwave hit Heather like a train. With raging fury the raw electric energy burst in all directions, some slamming backward into the orb itself, turning it a deep fiery red and blue, then colours Heather couldn’t even place until they settled to red. She could see the powerlines of the national grid glowing with the same red hue.

On her back from the force of blast, watching in horror as a forked bolt shot over her head where she had stood seconds before, it occurred to Heather she should run, now. The bolt arched off to the right, setting a tree ablaze and cascading flames down around her. More fire fell from above as the dryer branches caught in the blast of voltage burned and shredded. The jagged charges continued to shoot in unpredictable bursts, even as Heather scrambled to her feet and ran as never before. 

Another bolt struck somewhere behind her, surely the bridge or she'd have felt it and died in the spot, but she didn't dare turn and look as she ran across, if there was any hope she wasn't about to be incinerated it came from going into full flight mode, her vision red, a thick cloud surrounding her inside her head taking her away from the world even whilst she knew she was still on the bridge. 

For his part, Halos flew backwards through the lab as a supernova erupted. The inferno combusted the particle chamber, blasting the centuries-old and units thick metal apart. Landing hard, and turning to cradle his aching ribs, he saw through streaming eyes his goggles sitting on one of the test benches. Nursing a bleeding scalp, he looked back to see a perfect sphere. He watched in wonder as in the middle of the ruined test chamber a world emerged from the rubble. Scrambling to his feet, he stood in awe, stunned into shock by the unfolding sight.

A floor of hard rock, but so flat, and what seemed to be a straight yellow line traced one side. Not what he expected at all, it seemed unnatural enough, but that was not all. The line continued underneath what looked to be a kind of construction. A steel–like structure, with intricate bars crossing over a shallow rectangular ditch. Long stretches of metal reached off into the distance as far as he could see. Foliage, life, blue sky and, constructions.

Then the ball imploded and vanished as the lab shut itself down to avoid further damage. The hardware had overloaded from a power surge the likes of which Halos had never dreamed. Coming to his senses, as he gently clambered to his feet on shaking legs, Halos realised Varsus may even now be returning. Whether he heard the explosion or not Halos would need to explain himself.

****

And in the eternal darkness, light for the first time spreads. The break arches from its host multiverse, an unearthly orb devoid of awareness in a sea of twins, though it alone stands unique, for now.

It produces the gleaming streak of colour unimaginable that strikes another orb. A spectrum spreads across the blackness of this second surface in a way too painful for eyes to gaze, though here none do, not yet.

Then, an eye opens, as she awakes. Expanse unseen, or meant to be, lay before untouchable, life in its rawest collected form. A feeling, the first feeling of its life builds inside as the bolt embeds deeper within it.

Through the void, the darkness trembles, and a terrible scream begins.