The Magic Factory

“It’s another one of the rules,” Ralph said. “Think of them like faculty rooms. You know, even teachers have lives.” He chuckled again.

His mention of teachers brought Oliver back to reality. He was here to learn, after all, not eat candy and play badminton. And as much as he was enjoying Ralph’s tour, he still had so many burning questions in his mind, about who he was, why he was here, how any of this existed at all.

“What are the teachers like?” he asked Ralph. “What do we even study?”

“We have three classes in our first year of training. Doctor Ziblatt teaches Sight, which is learning to look into the future and past and cross-dimensionally. Mr. Lazzarato is our Transformation tutor, he’s the one who teaches us how to use our powers to alter the fabric of reality. And then there’s Coach Finkle, who teaches us how to be physically strong and powerful. We see them every single day, for two hours each.”

It seemed like a lot of work, Oliver thought with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He liked hard work, especially when he knew it would all go toward developing his powers, but he was still nervous about it all. Everything was so overwhelming.

“What happens once you’ve completed your first year of study?” Oliver asked Ralph.

“You go into the second year. More classes, different tutors, a whole new schedule to follow. Which is very important, I have to stress.” He gave Oliver a stern, almost bossy expression. “The timetable is meticulously planned in order to stop certain timelines collapsing in on themselves.”

Oliver’s head spun. He’d never felt such immense pressure. He hardly even knew the rules of the school and now he was expected to follow them rigidly so as not to create any time ripples! Everything seemed to possess the potential for causing a timeline to collapse, even the mere act of taking a book out of the library!

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Ralph said. “I’ll be there to show you the ropes. Me and my friends. Everyone’s really nice. Well, not everyone. In my group there’s Walter, Simon, and Hazel. You’ll like them, I promise. And Ichiro, too. He’s in the second year and hangs out with us sometimes. Just steer clear of Edmund and Vinnie.”

Oliver nodded, trying to take it all in. But Ralph was talking so quickly and giving him so much information, Oliver couldn’t even begin to commit any of it to memory.

He pointed at the door with a Z. “What’s this then? Does the School for Seers have its own zoo?”

Ralph laughed. “No. Although that would be great. Z is for zzz, as in sleeping. That’s where the sleep pods are.”

“Sleep pods?” Oliver asked, curious. “Can I look?”

Ralph shook his head. “We all have allotted sleep times and we’re not allowed to sleep outside of them. What with the whole school existing out of time thing, the sleeping area is in perpetual night. It’s a very important…”

“…rule,” Oliver finished.

There were more rules to the School for Seers than he could really get his head around.

“Can I see someone using their powers?” Oliver asked Ralph. “I still don’t really understand what I am, what anyone here is.”

“Your guide didn’t explain?” Ralph asked, frowning.

“My guide?” Oliver asked, widening his eyes. “Isn’t that you?”

Ralph laughed. “No, I mean your human guide in your timeline. You must have had one. A person who appeared when you needed them the most, who had answers to questions you’d never before found.”

“You mean… Armando?” Oliver asked. His heart felt like a jagged rock when he remembered his dear friend dying in his arms.

“We each have one,” Ralph said. “A human who’s assigned to start us on our journey. They’re usually considered wacky by the rest of the world, because how could you not be once you know what we know!”

He laughed. Everything seemed so simple to Ralph, like it wasn’t some huge, crazy, mind-blowing thing. Oliver envied his laid-back nature a little.

“So Armando was supposed to guide me here?” Oliver muttered aloud. “That explains how he knew stuff about me. I guess he was killed before he had a chance to finish explaining it all.”

“He was killed?” Ralph asked sympathetically. “I’m so sorry.”

Oliver felt his tears welling in his eyes. He sniffed, not wanting to cry in front of Ralph.

“Don’t be sad,” Ralph told him. “I can fill in all the blanks. What do you need to know?”

Oliver pushed his sadness away. Finally, someone was really going to give him some answers. He felt embarrassed to admit his ignorance, since he was so used to being the smart one.

“Why don’t you start by telling me what a Seer actually is?”

Ralph pulled a face. “Oh. Okay. You really need me to start with the basics.”

Oliver blushed and shrugged.

“All right then,” Ralph began. “Let’s sit down. Get comfy. I’ll start at the very beginning.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

They returned to the library and sat together on one of the red leather couches. Ralph selected a book from the shelves and laid it open on the coffee table before them. It was weather-beaten with smudged, dog-eared pages reminding Oliver of his well-read inventors book.

“First things first,” Ralph said, turning to the opening page. “Forget everything you think you know about time. Time isn’t real. There’s no beginning and no end. Everything exists always.”

Oliver blinked. “That’s not a particularly easy concept to get my head around.”

“Here,” Ralph said, pointing at a passage of text. “This explains it better.”

Oliver read.

Time is simultaneous. Everything that will happen has already happened and is happening now as you read this passage.

Oliver rubbed his aching forehead. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, I’m still a student myself,” Ralph said. “I may not be the best person to explain. But basically, for time travel to exist—which we both accept it does, since we’re sitting here in 1944—time can’t be real. ’Cause you can’t go somewhere that doesn’t exist, right?”

“Right…” Oliver nodded, uncertainly. “But if that’s the case, then everything must be fixed. In order for all time to exist and all events to have already happened and be currently happening, nothing can change or it would create paradoxes.”

Ralph shook his head emphatically. “Not exactly. Because there’s an infinite number of timelines. The universe wants the main timeline to follow a certain route, the best route. In order to keep everyone on the right path, the universe imbues Seers with the power to change and alter the timeline, to tweak and realign it and get it back to the correct path. No one knows what we’ve done because everything rejumbles itself and that becomes the new reality. But Seers know. Unlike normal mortals who tend to forget conflicting realities, we can hold many different timelines in our heads.” He beamed with excitement. “Although it can get confusing to hold on to many different timelines and threads. That’s why Seers take Rewritten History classes for most of their lives.”

Oliver frowned. His mind was spinning, his head pounding from trying to understand it all. “So we’re just pawns of the universe?”

Ralph blinked. He looked a little hurt. When he spoke again his tone was softer, his enthusiasm toned down. “Our powers are a gift from the universe. She chose us to do this. We’re part of the very fabric and essence of what makes reality real. I personally think that is really, really cool.”

Oliver looked up into Ralph’s earnest green eyes. He felt bad for feeling so overwhelmed that he couldn’t share in Ralph’s evident excitement.

“Why don’t you tell me a bit more about our powers?” he suggested.

Ralph brightened again immediately, clearly eager to oblige. “So, we each have a specialism that allows us to manipulate the physical world in order to change the future. I have a biological specialism. I can rearrange matter; make vines grow to tie someone up, or part the trees of a forest to open a pathway through. That’s how I was able to change the leaf before. It’s not a lot but once I’ve trained properly I’ll be strong. Right now I can just about make a petal fall off a buttercup.”

“What about the others?” Oliver asked. “What kind of rearranging can they do?”

“Well, my friend Simon has a molecular specialism,” Ralph explained. “Liquids to gas, lead to gold, that kind of thing. Hazel has a chemical specialism. She can change someone’s mood from happy to sad, for example. She once helped me digest a rather large burrito. So, I suppose if you want to see your role as some kind of predetermined burden you can. Or you can choose to see it as AWESOME like I do.”

“All right, all right,” Oliver said, relenting. “That bit does seem pretty awesome. Messing with molecules and atoms and the fabric of reality is pretty cool. But how does it actually work?”

“You have to look into the future,” Ralph explained, “and picture what you need. Then you work out which part of the manipulation will achieve it. So say I want to make a mountain grow, I’d have to visualize the future, where the mountain is already grown, and manipulate the necessary parts to achieve it. Any idea what your specialism is?”

Oliver racked his brains. So far he’d only used his to break a table leg and open some steel doors.

“Is there a specialism for manipulating materials?” he asked. “Like wood and steel?”

Ralph looked a little blank. “Not sure. I mean, an atomic specialism would be able to. It’s by far the most powerful but by far the hardest to master. It’s also super rare…” His voice trailed off and his eyes suddenly widened. Oliver saw a spark ignite behind them. “Unless you’re the one we’ve been waiting for!”

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked.

Ralph looked suddenly excited. “We’re waiting for someone. Someone very special, who will be the most powerful Seer of all. Every time a new kid arrives we think it’s them but they always end up disappointing us.”

Oliver gulped. “You don’t think it could be me?”

Ralph shrugged. “Only time will tell.” Then he stood suddenly and tapped his stomach. “I’m famished. Let’s go and have dinner.”

Oliver stood, too, glancing back at the heavy tome that contained all the theories of space-time he’d discussed with Ralph. He knew he would be back to read it as soon as possible. He needed to go through it all with a fine-tooth comb. Its theories had expanded his mind far beyond Einstein’s theory of relativity.

But for now, Oliver had to accept his rumbling stomach needed to take precedence.

They left through the L door, and Ralph led him to a door with an F on it. F for food, Oliver presumed.

Ralph pushed open the doors and before Oliver’s eyes was the most magnificent dining room he had ever seen.

It was just like the other rooms, a huge open space of fifty floors. There were brightly colored tubes crisscrossing all over the place, with conveyor belts inside and small plates of food moving along them. It was like a sushi bar in 3D technicolor.

In the center was a huge concrete column with round glass tables surrounding it at various heights. Oliver watched as kids walked over, sat down and clipped themselves in with seat belts. When the last chair was taken, the table started to rise into the air. The column was some kind of elevator system. Once the glass table reached its position, twenty floors up, it clicked into place. Oliver saw the kids upon it reaching for plates of food from the conveyor belts that were now within reach, chatting happily with each other.

Oliver couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Like everything else in the school he’d seen so far, even eating was a hurried affair.

“This is insane,” he said aloud.

“Come on,” Ralph said, pulling him by the collar. “Let’s get a seat quickly or we’ll have to wait for the next table.”

Oliver was tugged along to the column just as the next communal table rose up through a hole in the ground and clicked into place. Kids dashed into seats around him. At the same time Ralph shoved him down into one of the chairs.

“Clip in,” he said.

Oliver scrambled to find his straps. It was very fiddly trying to get them to click in place, and the other seats were filling up with kids fast.

Just at the last second, Oliver managed to get his buckle fastened. Then suddenly he was shooting upward.

Oliver gripped the side of the table to steady himself. He made the mistake of looking down and, through the glass tabletop, saw his legs dangling above the ground, which was shrinking rapidly out of sight.

Then the table stopped abruptly. Oliver’s stomach flipped from the sudden sensation of deceleration.

“All right?” Ralph asked.

“I think so,” Oliver replied, blowing his messy hair from his eyes.

The sound of mechanical whirring caught Oliver’s attention and he looked around as hundreds of different-colored tubes moved toward the table. With a whoosh, different plates started flying before him; bowls of fuchsia pink rice, plates of rainbow-colored hamburgers, a dish filled with sparkly broccoli.

“What the…” Oliver muttered.

He looked over at Ralph, who was busy selecting dishes, licking his lips greedily. He already had three plates; a sausage roll with marble pastry, curly alphabet fries, and veggies shaped like dinosaurs. Oliver quickly grabbed the next dish that came his way. He was pleasantly relieved to see it was a standard slice of pepperoni pizza. He took a greedy bite. It was excellent.

As the initial burst of intensity subsided, Oliver got a chance to look at the others sitting at the table with him for the first time; a girl with two neat braids coiled on her head, the color of butterscotch, a dark-skinned boy with a short curly Afro, and a very pale boy with wide-set blue eyes and hair so fair it was nearly silver.

“You’re new,” the girl said when their eyes met. Hers were gray, turned a little down at the edges in a way that made her look slightly mournful.

“How can you tell?” Oliver asked.

“You look startled,” she teased. “That’s how everyone looks when they first see the dining hall. Plus, you’ve only selected one thing.”

Oliver looked at her own choices: blue mashed potatoes, red peas, and a huge sausage in the shape of an airplane. Her drink looked like an Oreo milkshake. Oliver licked his lips.

“That’s Hazel,” Ralph said, gesturing to the girl. “This is Oliver, the boy Professor Amethyst sent me to collect.”

Hazel slid her milkshake across to him. “Here. I saw you looking. You’ve got to be fast sometimes in order to get what you want.”

“Thanks,” Oliver replied. “I’m not used to so much choice.” He blushed as he remembered his meager past and the poverty he’d come from. “We didn’t have food like this at home.”

“I’d be more surprised if you did,” Hazel said with a kind chuckle.

Just then the dark-skinned boy beside her leaned over and took a forkful of her potatoes. He grinned devilishly as he shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

“Walter!” Ralph scolded from the other side. He folded his arms. “Get your own.”

Walter didn’t look fazed by his admonishment. He just kept on grinning. Oliver got the distinct impression that, as the oldest, Ralph sometimes took on a teacherly role. Perhaps it was more of a parent role, since none of the kids here had access to their families. Oliver wondered if they were ever lonely. He himself didn’t like his family and was relieved not to have to interact with them anymore. But a lot of kids got on well with their parents and siblings. It must be harder for them being here alone. They must get homesick.

“So, new kid?” Walter, the boy with an Afro and a mouthful of Hazel’s stolen mashed potato said to Oliver. “How are you coping?”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Oliver confessed, thinking back to his conversation with Ralph in the library. “It’s very different from what I’m used to.”

“When are you from?” Walter asked.

When, Oliver noted. Not where. He wasn’t even sure how best to describe it.

“The third millennium?” he tried.

“Not too distant then,” Walter replied. “I’m from 1982. Hazel’s from the fourth millennium—3032.”

Oliver’s eyes widened as he snapped his head up to face her. Hazel blushed.

“I know,” she said. “It’s sooo cringe.”

Oliver had no idea why such a thing would be cringey. All he could think about was how utterly wild this all was. Hazel was from the future!

“Is there anyone here from the past?” Oliver asked.

Ralph looked up then and chuckled. “It depends when your reference point is. Walter’s from the past for you. You’re from the past for me.”

“When are you from then?” Oliver asked him. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Ralph might be from a completely different point in time than him.

“I was born in 4040,” Ralph said. “Fifth millennium.” He grinned, like this was something to be very proud of. He looked at the pale boy beside him. “When are you from, Simon? I always forget.”

“1890,” the boy said in a very plummy British accent.

Oliver could hardly believe what he was hearing. A school suspended in time, filled with kids from all different eras. His mind spun.

“Have you met any teachers yet?” Hazel asked, changing the subject. She helped herself to a bowl of popcorn.

Oliver shook his head. “I haven’t seen a single adult since I got here.”

Hazel giggled. “It takes a little getting used to. The adults trust us to behave, to follow our schedules and do our work. We get a lot of freedom.”

“As long as we follow the rules,” Ralph added.

“The only grown-ups you’ll see here are your teachers,” Hazel added, chewing on her popcorn. “Oh, and the occasional hologram chat check-in with your guide.”

At the mention of his guide, Oliver dropped his eyes to his plate. That pit of pain that always accompanied his thoughts about Armando opened up again.

Ralph shot Hazel a warning look across the table.

“Did I say something wrong?” Hazel asked with a concerned yet quizzical air.

Oliver shook his head. “No. It’s just that my guide passed away.”

All the kids around the table exchanged glances.

“I’m so sorry,” Hazel said gently.

“Terrible luck, chum,” Simon said, shaking his head sadly.

“Totally bogus,” Walter added.

Oliver paused. He tried to swallow the hard lump in his throat.

Ralph came to the rescue. “Oliver’s guide died before he could tell him what he really is or why he was supposed to come here. We have to be extra sensitive, okay? Try not to overwhelm him. We don’t want his head to explode.”

Oliver felt grateful to have Ralph looking out for him, even if the closest his head had come to exploding since he’d gotten here had been because of Ralph’s explanation of time.

Hazel reached over and patted his hand. “Losing your guide must have been very hard. But you’re going to have a lot of fun here, I promise you. You couldn’t be in a better place.”

Walter grinned then. “You’ve seen the S hall, right? Isn’t it amazing?”

“Sure,” Oliver said, shrugging morosely.

“We should play a game of switchit after we’ve eaten,” Walter suggested.

“It’s such a vulgar game,” Simon scoffed. “I much prefer cricket. It’s far more refined.”

“But switchit is awesome!” Walter exclaimed. “I’m obsessed. It’s like basketball but with lots of hoops. And you fly on ostreagles.”

“What’s an ostreagle?” Oliver asked.

“They’re an animal from the year three thousand,” Hazel explained. “A genetic splicing between an ostrich and an eagle.”

“Right. Got it,” Oliver said, feeling exceptionally out of his depth.

Ralph spoke in his paternal way again. “Walter, there’s no time for switchit before bed for us first-years, you know that.”

Walter rolled his eyes and went back to eating.

Overwhelmed by everything, Oliver turned his gaze back down to his plate, picking at the pepperoni. As he did so, he realized someone below him was looking up.

She was a very pretty girl, with emerald green eyes and straight black hair. She smiled at him shyly and then looked back down at her own food.

“That’s Esther,” Hazel said. “All the boys love her.” She said it very theatrically, letting out a little scoff from the back of her throat.

Oliver thought she looked utterly charming. He wanted to ask more about the beautiful girl but Hazel’s attitude seemed to suggest it was a sore topic, for her at least. She seemed jealous of Esther, even though she herself was very pretty, with her gray eyes and butterscotch hair. Oliver could imagine Hazel being the subject of many a boy’s crush; it just so happened that he himself was drawn to the ethereal beauty of Esther.

Suddenly a mechanized arm appeared and collected all the plates, bowls, and cups off the table, right from under their noses. Oliver’s unfinished pizza was whisked away. He reached for it with futility.

The table began to quickly descend, plummeting to the ground—a most unpleasant experience after having just eaten. Once they reached the ground, Ralph instantly unclipped himself and came up to Oliver.

“We’d better get to bed,” he said. “It’s our allotted slot.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ralph directed Oliver out of the atrium. It was just as busy as usual with students. Filing out of the Z room looking fresh and eager to begin their lessons were a bunch of kids who looked to be around fifteen or sixteen. Oliver presumed they were in the years above.

The small group Oliver had shared dinner with walked around the huge kapok tree, heading for the door marked Z. There were other kids congregating outside and they looked up at Oliver with suspicious glances as he and his gang approached.

“Ugh,” Hazel said. “That’s Edmund. Whatever he says, just ignore him.”

But as soon as they reached the door, Edmund turned around and sneered.

“Another new kid,” he said loudly to his friend who had an equally sneering expression. “We’ve already had a ton of kids who are supposedly the most important, powerful Seer of all time and none of them have turned out to be. I’m pretty certain you’re not the one we’ve all been waiting for.” He smirked nastily over his shoulder and addressed Oliver directly. “You don’t look like much to me.”

“Shove off, Edmund,” Ralph said between his teeth.

He put his arm around Oliver protectively and led him some distance away from Edmund. As they walked, Edmund called out, “I bet you’re a cobalt!”

“A cobalt?” Oliver asked, looking up at Ralph, who was hurrying him along out of earshot. “Is that some kind of insult from the future?”

He lamented the fact that there were bullies everywhere, from school, to the factory, to here, this magical place located in between time. At least he didn’t understand their taunts here.

“Just ignore him,” Ralph said.

But Oliver couldn’t help but note the troubled look on his face. Something Edmund had said had rattled him. Oliver got the distinct impression Ralph wasn’t telling him something.

“What did he mean?” Oliver asked. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Ralph remained silent, his gaze fixed on Edmund and the rest of the kids crowded by the Z door. The Z in the door turned white and everyone around them began filing inside but Ralph held back until Edmund was gone.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” he said.

Oliver followed alongside him. “Can you please answer my question, Ralph?” he asked. “Is there something you haven’t told me about?”

They stepped inside the Z room. It was like some kind of airlock. It was quite dark, save for rows of glowing white, circular doors, like the lockers in a changing room.

Once again, Ralph didn’t answer Oliver’s pleas.

“Grab your sleep suit from there,” he said, opening up a pod. It hissed and white steam coiled out.

Still confused, Oliver reached inside and pulled out a strange white suit. It looked like a kid’s blanket sleeper. “I have to sleep in this?”

Ralph just nodded. “The changing rooms are that way.” He gestured to a row of white curtains.

“Thanks,” Oliver mumbled.

He couldn’t understand Ralph’s sudden change in demeanor. Either cobalt was a deeply offensive term, or it meant something else entirely that Ralph wasn’t willing to tell him.

He hurried behind the curtains and quickly changed, wanting to get back out and interrogate Ralph some more. The strange white sleeper felt very cool against his skin, more like he’d put on a suit of air rather than fabric. He hurried back out with his clothes bundled in his arms.