Partly cloudy. 9mph winds blowing northeast. Fifty-nine degrees fahrenheit. With wind chill, fifty-five point two. No rain is expected. 

First day on the job. 

Lam put on her apron, the store’s logo and name printed on it in big, colorful letters. She pushed the kitchen door open. 

She could see the inside of the store from behind the long granite counter. Dozens of empty chairs stood lit by the soft blue light of a cold morning. It was quiet and peaceful outside, and just as much inside. But it was time to get to business. Lam turned on the lights, put up the “open” sign, and waited. 

A half-hour of silence later, the sound of a bell rang through the store. Lam straightened out of her slump and leaned over the counter to see her first customer. 

It was a small boy, wearing only ragged clothes far too big for him, his skin a dark gray. But it was something else about him that startled Lam. 

The boy had no face. 

Despite this, he took his time looking around the store, at least as much as he could without eyes, and then finally he walked up to the counter. 

“Is this place new?” the boy asked. 

Lam didn’t know what to say at first. All she could do was wonder how in the world this boy could talk, or see, or do anything at all. He had no foreign accent, but appeared to be from somewhere she’d never heard of before. And his voice was strange. It was obviously male and young, but Lam couldn’t tell if she was actually hearing his voice or if it was just being projected into her head. Strange appearances were nothing unusual, not in a place like Nur—it was populated by people from all around the galaxy—but she had never in her life seen a person without a face. Was it some strange type of Val? Lam wondered.

“Yes, this is our first day in business here. We’ve been trying to expand our stores to other planets, and Manim was one of the first.” 

The boy was paying attention to the menu hanging above her. 

“Where are you from?” Lam asked as politely as possible, awkwardly trying not to stare at where his face should be. 

“I dunno.” 

This puzzled her. 

“How old are you?” 

“I think I’m nine. Maybe ten.” 

“Ten…” Lam quietly said to herself, almost disbelieving. “Zystinian years, right? Not this planet’s years? Aren’t the years here on Manim like… ten Zystinian years long?”

“Yup. Ten years.” 

“Then you probably only remember seeing winter and spring before, right?”

“I only really remember up to a few years ago.” 

“Really? That’s strange. What’s your name?” 

“I don’t have a name.” 

Looking at his disheveled attire, Lam wondered if the boy was an orphan. But with no orphanages in their small town, he was likely lacking any parental support. She felt a pang of pity for the boy. 

“Is there anything you want?” she offered. 

“No, thanks. I’ll eat at Grano’s. I didn’t recognise this store, so I wanted to check it out.” 

He turned back momentarily towards the store window. A few other small stores and buildings lined a nearby block. Lam could see clearly one among them, “Grano’s,” in big comical letters above a red-painted store. 

“Oh. Well, you can take something to go if you’d like. For free.” 

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“Can I have a Bletim wrap?” 

Lam turned away from the boy and prepared a Bletim wrap. The boy stood on the tips of his toes to watch her make the meal. After finishing, she reached over the glass on top of the granite counter and handed him the food, wrapped in aluminum foil. He took it and held it in his hands for a bit, looking at it intently. 

“It looks yummy.” 

“That’s good. You stay safe out there, okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

And with that, he left the store with another ding. 

 

---

 

The faceless boy was also nameless. He didn’t have much at all, for that matter. Not even many memories. But he did have some, and one in particular was bothering him, distracting him from the wrap he was enjoying. 

It was a vivid dream he had had the previous night: he was surrounded by inky blackness, flying in no direction in particular. Then, he saw tiny pinpoints of light, little stars shooting by at high speed. For a moment, he felt free, but then the view around him became obscured with dark-colored metal. He looked back in front of him, and the scene had changed; he was now falling down at high speed. He braced for impact, but instead of a jolt of pain, he found himself in a new location entirely. He was floating in a flesh-coated chamber now, completely immobile. All of a sudden, a thin, metallic rod protruded from one of the fleshy walls, slowly growing closer to him. But right before it was about to touch him, he woke up. 

As strange as it was, and though it disturbed him, he knew he had other things to pay attention to. And since he had no idea of what the dream meant anyway, or if it meant anything at all, he found himself snapping back into the moment. 

This was one of many unusual things about the boy, though he wasn’t aware of how unusual some of these things were. He saw the world through different eyes, or in his case, none at all, gathering sight, smell, sound, and taste from an unusual organ attached directly to his brain. This organ was attuned to a specific wavelength of visible-infrared light that could penetrate the skin and tissue in the front of his head, thus letting him see. In lieu of a nose, a permeable membrane where his face should be let in oxygen and the right molecules to register smell, and his body registered the vibrations bouncing off of his head, transferring all of this information to this master organ in his brain. Unbeknownst to the boy, his anatomy proved to be a highly efficient way to achieve the goals of a face, but without a face at all. 

Everything he needed was all there, but it was hidden under the barely permeable, slightly translucent surface where his face should have been. 

At Grano’s now, the boy pushed open the glass door and walked up to the plump man at the counter. The man noticed him quickly, and a big smile came across his face. The boy smiled too, or at least made a mental attempt. The plump man could tell the boy was happy to see him. 

“Hey there, little buddy!” the plump man said. 

“Hi Mr. Grano!” the boy cheerfully responded. 

“You here for breakfast again?” 

“Mm-hm.” 

“Alrighty then. Coming right up.” 

The boy sat down excitedly at one of the many tables, taking extra care to get himself comfortable in the leather seat. He grabbed his fork and knife and eagerly watched Mr. Grano prepare his meal from behind the counter. And when Mr. Grano had taken it out of the oven, he presented the steaming dish to the boy with pride. 

“Grand Soman just for you,” Mr. Grano said, sliding the platter onto the table. 

It was a triangle-shaped bread with a scrumptious green sauce coating all but the crust, ground up meat sprinkled generously on top. It appeared far too big for such a small boy, but he ate it ravenously, to Mr. Grano’s delight. Grand Soman was the boy’s favorite. 

With no mouth, or any face at all, the boy didn’t eat the way other people did. Instead, the part of his face where his mouth should be became malleable, and he simply absorbed the food into his face. 

Mr. Grano sat on the other side from the boy as he ate, patiently waiting for him to finish. When he did, the boy slumped down into his chair, relaxed as ever. 

“How was your weekend?” Mr. Grano asked. 

“I liked it.” 

“Good. Was the Soman good, too?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How’s the search for your parents going?” Mr. Grano asked, trying his hardest to be polite.

“Not well. I can’t find them.” 

“Hm. Sorry to hear that. Did you see that they opened a new place a few blocks from here?” 

“Uh-huh. I went there.” 

“Did they tell you where they came from?” 

“No.” 

“They’re from our galaxy’s capital, Zephyr. I expect that if they have the money to expand all the way to Manim, they’ll provide some good competition. Don’t let them put me out of business, alright?” Mr. Grano joked. 

“I won’t. Don’t worry, Mr. Grano.” 

The boy grabbed a handful of chips from a basket on the table and laid them out in front of him, eating them one by one. 

“By the way Mr. Grano, why is our planet called Manim, anyway?” 

“Good question. You see, Manim is the only planet for quite a ways out that has life on it. When the colonists who originally came to Manim saw our planet, the only planet for lightyears with life and plants and air, they saw it as an oasis.” 

The boy cocked his head, confused. Mr. Grano elaborated. 

“An oasis is… think of it as a safe place. A small safe place in a universe of unsafe places. The colonists saw our planet as an oasis and named it Manim, which was their word for ‘oasis’ in their original Bedinian language. And, funny enough, Nur is the only town on Manim. An oasis on an oasis.”

The boy was amazed. “Wow…” 

“And while I’m sure you already know this, every year here on Manim is equivalent to 10 standard Zystinian years. Soon, you’ll turn one here on Manim! Isn’t that amazing?” 

“I’ll turn one?!”

“I know, right? Our galaxy is so cool. We’re lucky to be in it, even though it can be strange at times.” 

The boy tilted his head and put it in his hands like he was deep in thought. 

“Mr. Grano,” he started, “is there anything strange about you?” 

“Me? Well, everyone’s strange in their own way. Everyone on Nur is from a different part of the galaxy. Some people have Vals, some don’t, everyone has different skin color and hair color, and sometimes people are even different shapes and sizes. My species is different from yours. My species has better vision than many others, but no one from my species ever has a Val. We’re even allergic to different things. We can actually eat most poisonous things, but my species is allergic to citric acid and thorium. Weird, right? My biology makes me intoxicated by those things, like I’m drunk. But you don’t have to worry about being drunk for quite some time!” Mr. Grano chuckled, prompting the boy to laugh along with him. 

Eventually, the faceless boy got up from his seat and walked to the door. 

“I’m going on a walk. See you, Mr. Grano!” 

“See ya, lil guy!”

And the boy walked outside again, passing between the small stores and shops of Nur before stopping in his tracks and pulling a small, crumpled sheet of paper out of his pocket. He studied the paper for a moment—it was a map he’d made of his neighborhood and the surrounding area, crudely drawn but effective. There were countless eraser marks and faded pencil scratches on the paper from dozens of corrections and alterations he’d made. 

Beyond the sketches of the houses, stores, and streets that the boy was so familiar with was blank, untouched paper. He had only explored his immediate area of the town and had set aside room on the page for when he ventured further out, but he had yet to step outside the confines of his neighborhood and a couple small shops. The creek behind the abandoned house he slept in was too wide and the car-flooded streets were too intimidating. He didn’t know what the colored lights and beeping machines meant or did, and he was too afraid to find out. 

The boy followed his map to its edge where he stood on a sidewalk in front of a wide street. Fast-moving cars flew by on either end, and the boy felt his fear grow and grow before he decided to step back from the curb and onto the sidewalk’s safe and familiar embrace. With a slight sense of disappointment, he started his walk back towards Grano’s diner. He couldn’t miss the morning news. 

When the bell on the door indicated the boy’s return, the morning news was already playing. Other patrons had come during his absence, occupying other red-painted seats in the diner. He picked the seat closest to the TV on the wall and sat down, listening intently to the overly cheerful news reporters.

“...really a great day to get outside, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh yes, absolutely wonderful. Especially if you love the cold! And in other news, a new business has come to Nur. Today is their opening day. Be sure to give Anak-Lespin a visit if you can. I’ve heard their food is delicious.” 

“They really are great, Rande. Did you know Anak-Lespin originated all the way from Zephyr, our galaxy’s capital?” 

“Really?” 

“They sure did.”

The boy spent much of his time watching TV. He admired the news reporters, how much they knew about their town and how much fun they seemed to have talking about it. The boy knew he wanted to be a news reporter one day. 

“Now we’ll hand the floor over to Artak with the weather. Take it away, Artak!” 

The screen cut to a well-dressed man with a smile on his face. 

“As you said, we can expect beautiful weather in Nur for the next few days, with highs in the mid-seventies and lows in the fifties. The sun should be out all week. That's all for me, now back to you!” 

“Thank you, Artak. We’re almost through our long spring season and migration rates to our little colony town of Nur are expected to be at an all-time high.” 

The camera switched to an aerial view of Nur, a view of the bustling town below as the reporter talked. 

“The number of seasonal migrants to Nur has finally begun to increase again, some families enticed by the comfortable life Nur has to offer, some drawn here hoping to capitalize on Manim’s unique supply of corvyte, and many scientists wishing to study the famous weather phenomenon here, The Shades.”

The TV switched to a shot of the back of someone’s car with a large bumper sticker. The sticker had a cartoonish drawing of a cloud on it, with the text below saying “I SURVIVED THE SHADES.” It then switched to a video of Nur’s town entrance, the text “Home of The Shades” emblemed beneath. Another shot showed the town’s mayor among a large parade, waving happily to the crowd around him. 

“If this news broadcast makes its way to a newcomer to Nur, then welcome to our town–proud home of The Shades, and only town on the strangest planet in the galaxy. Thank you so much for tuning in, and, of course, we’ll see you tomorrow.” 

While the outro jingle played, a strange feeling crept into the boy. There had to be so much out there. The news reporters the boy so cheerfully watched were somewhere out in his own town, yet unknown to him. And the boy made another revelation: what else out there did he not know? He’d glimpsed new lights and sounds and people out beyond his map, just out of sight, just out of reach. How much was he missing by staying in his own territory? How many things just as cool or as wonderful as the news people were waiting for him? He knew he couldn’t just keep watching the world safely from behind a TV screen.

With a rush of determination, the boy steeled himself and stood up. Making sure the meager pocket change he’d gathered and his map still remained in his coat pockets, he pushed open the front door to Grano’s and stepped outside. 

After a long walk he reached the edge of his map once more, looking down at the blank areas on the paper. Now, he’d finally see what was out there. The boy fixed himself on the street ahead of him, cars whizzing by at high speeds. He kept close watch on the number of cars on the street at any given time, and once the number finally shrunk, he stepped onto the street and made a mad dash across the road. 

Immediately, the boy realized he was in over his head. Even with how fast he was running, the street felt impossibly long and the colored vehicles rushing by overwhelmed him. It felt like the entire street was erupting with honks and beeps, some cars narrowly missing him as he ran. 

Nearing the end of the wide street, he noticed a car hurtling his way. It was too late to step back or leap forward—he was already in the middle of its lane. The car approached with a long, drawn-out beep, and for a moment the boy thought he’d met his end. 

But then, he felt a rush of power flow through his body. His exposed skin emitted blackish steam into the cold spring air, and just before the car hit, the boy leapt into the air with astonishing speed. He soared over the car as it flew by under him, until he finally landed on the sidewalk on the other side with a painful thud. Hardly believing what he had done, the boy pushed himself to standing. He’d made it. 

A moment later, a bus slowed and came to a stop in front of the boy. He watched the doors on the bus for a moment before they opened, revealing a friendly-looking driver who waved at him happily. The boy waved back. With no other idea of what to do, he stepped aboard. 

He’d never seen a bus from the inside before; he knew people went in and out of it and what it looked like from the outside, but he never knew just how many people it held. An old man was on a phone call near the front, and a group of kids just a bit younger than the boy were crammed into a row in front of their mother, all staring and loudly commenting on a video game they were playing. It seemed everyone from every walk of life was there. The cloth-lain seats looked worn, and the boy picked an empty seat by the window to sit and watch the world outside. 

The bus began to move again with a whine. He watched the cars and street begin to pass by for a moment, listening to the sounds of the bus and the people inside. The little kids playing their video game were shouting and groaning whenever someone won or lost a level, and the boy could hear clearly what they were saying. 

“Go, go! Defeat the boss!” 

“I’m trying!”

Then, a new voice sounded out behind him. 

“Did you jump over that car?” 

The boy turned around to see a bright-faced boy his age with spiky blonde hair standing in the middle aisle, gawking at him. Upon seeing his lack of a face, the blonde-haired boy jumped back. 

“Whoa! What are you?!” 

“Um…”

“Sorry. You surprised me—I’ve never seen someone without a face before.” 

“Well, neither have I.”

“You can see?! Ah- sorry again. I’m Grif. What’s your name?” 

Grif sat down next to the boy, hand extended. The boy shook it tentatively, but wasn’t sure how to answer the question. 

“I don’t have a name.” 

“Really? Well, surely you have something, right? What do people call you? I never really thought about not having a name. I already remember mine. I don’t know where I remember it from, though…” 

The faceless boy tuned out Grif’s lengthy rant as he pondered the question. What was his name, anyway? The little kids on the other end of the bus suddenly yelled with joy and excitement. 

“The laser! Fire the laser! Finish it!”

The mother sitting behind the loud children began to scold them, prompting apologies and whines. 

“Um…” the faceless boy started, the gears turning in his head. He had an idea. 

“Azer.” 

“Huh? Azer? That’s your name? How do you spell that?” 

The boy didn’t know—he’d only just made it up. “Uh… A-Z-E-R?” 

“Azer. I kinda like that. Well, alright, Azer, I meant to ask you, did you actually jump over that car earlier?” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Azer replied. Having a name of his own filled him with confidence. “It’s something I’ve always been able to do.”

“You know most people can’t do that, right?” stressed Grif. “That’s unusual.” 

“How else are you supposed to cross the street?” 

“There’s a crosswalk. The cars stop for you,” Grif answered matter-of-factly. 

“Oh.” Azer turned back around towards the window. Cars, people, and buildings were zooming by at a pace he’d never seen before. 

“Man,” Azer commented. “This bus goes fast! This thing could beat me in a race!” 

Grif looked at Azer with awe. “You sure are a strange one. But to be fair, I’m not the most normal either. Check this out-” 

Grif pulled up his shirt to reveal a huge scar where his heart should be. And Azer noticed that the usual thump-thump of a heart was nowhere to be seen. 

“I don’t have a heart. I think it was removed when I was little, but the crazy thing is: I don’t remember it happening at all. And I can produce electricity from my hands.” 

Grif put his shirt back down and pointed a finger into the air. Little sparks of electricity shot out of it. Azer was in awe. 

“Cool! I have a little scar too, on my side right here–” Azer pulled up the right side of his t-shirt to reveal a long scar on the side of his abdomen, right above his hip.

“Where’d you get it from?” Grif asked.

“No idea. But it seems like there are a lot of things about both of us that neither of us know, right?”

There was a brief pause and Azer took another look outside. He was already seeing more of the world than he ever imagined existed. 

“You don’t have any parents either, do you?” Grif inquired. 

“Nope.” 

“We’re not the only ones. Apparently, a bunch of people died when colonizing this town. There are a bunch of orphans I’ve seen.” 

There was another brief pause, Azer too focused on studying the outside world to pay full attention to Grif. 

“So why’d you get on the bus, anyway?” Grif asked again. 

“I wanted to explore.”

“Same. School in the Battle Academy starts soon, and I wanted to get one last chance to look around the town before I went there,” Grif said.

“The Battle Academy?” asked Azer.

The bus slowed to a stop with a creak. 

“It’s the school around here. Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain it later.” 

The passengers began to promptly exit through the folding doors, carrying their bags and briefcases. Azer and Grif followed the river of people out the bus and into the world. 

They were deposited onto a sidewalk in front of a glamorous fashion store, with big, bright lights lining the windowsills and the clothes within sparkly and new. As the bus wheeled away down the road, it revealed another row of bustling streets, filled to the brim with family-run businesses and thrift shops. Every type of person was walking the sidewalks, hailing from planets and countries neither of them had ever heard of. Every skin color, every shade of hair, thousands of little quirks and details that set each person apart, walking and working and shopping on the streets of Nur, in the heart of the town. 

The two boys began walking down the street, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Nur. It was a peaceful environment, the bluish sky shining down upon them. Just like the news broadcast he had seen that morning, Azer could spot a nearly infinite number of interesting things—statues, shops, art installations, and the scaffolds of emerging buildings. And, more interestingly, he saw many mentions of something called “The Shades.” Bumper stickers, posters, and slogans all mentioned “The Shades.” Passing by a gift shop, Azer saw a vast number of Shades-themed souvenirs, many depicting thick clouds or a lightning strike. Seeing all of this, Azer couldn’t help but wonder. 

Then, a voice from afar caught Azer’s attention. Unlike the friendly, lighthearted clamor of the town, this voice was harsh, meaningful, and frightening. As they continued their walk, the source of the voice came into view. 

A woman, dark-haired and tall, was speaking from atop a decrepit wooden crate. She was in her early twenties, well-dressed, sporting a red-tinted, sweeping black cloak with a strange symbol on the cloak’s center. Her dark, narrowed eyes made contact with passersby as she spoke, and her skin appeared edged and hardened. Beside her was an unkempt, burly man with long hair, wearing the same cloak as the woman. He was silent and held up a red-lettered sign with the text: 

FEAR THE SHADES. RETRIBUTION AWAITS. 

The woman shouted, “You all live like your lives will never end. But your lives will end in three years! The Shades is coming, and if you do not join us, not one of you will survive God’s power! Rapture awaits us all, and the only thing you can do is repent. Pray to God’s will and you will live; you will ascend with us! Meet the lord in the blanketing clouds above, or die blasphemed!” 

Azer was unable to look away, despite not understanding half of what they were talking about. The boys passed in front of the doomsayers, and the woman’s haunting eyes landed on Azer and Grif. She pointed at them. 

“God will not spare children! Listen to me while you have the chance: you must join our cause or die. Remember my name: I am Kovaki. Kovaki of Nova Noctis.”

The two stood silent for a moment. 

“Doomsayers,” Grif scowled. “Just ignore them.” 

But Azer was intrigued. “Hey, Grif?” 

“Yeah?”

“What the heck is The Shades?”