Lucy A. McLaren

The heat was the first thing you noticed. A wave of unimpeded warmth that hit you as though stepping off the plane onto some distant, sun-drenched soil.

The orb levitated a few feet from the forest floor. Its light flickered and wavered, growing dim and then brightening to an almost blinding level seemingly at random. It was as though someone had plucked the very sun from the sky and shrunk it down to hover amongst the trees.

It was discovered by a woman one cloudy autumn morning, her dog drawn to the mysterious light like a moth to a flame. He’d growled and writhed and snapped at his owner, apparently acting against his usually calm and gentle nature. Its effect on animals was curious, to say the least.

At first, the locals tried to keep the orb a secret. They’d sit around it, absorbing its heat and wondering at its existence. They held fierce debates and discussions, forming theories as to where it had come from and why it was here. Was it a blessing on their great city, Londanis—a sign that the Sovereign’s way was pure and true? No one knew. In time, they noticed the trees closest to the orb flourishing. Their leaves were vibrant in their greens, golds and reds, their branches appearing to lean towards the object’s glowing light.

***

Inevitably, word of the mysterious orb spread. The local teenagers had been having competitions with each other: who could get the best orb selfie? Who could get the closest, the best lighting, the most flattering angle? Through the unstoppable power of the Sovereign’s Network, word spread. By that winter, it was common knowledge across the Continent.

Soon, the press picked up on the story and the Sovereign’s Minister ordered his Council to contain the orb’s perimeter. A metallic fence—such that might be used to control the crowds at the Minister’s annual speeches—now encircled it. A guard was present around the clock, an officer of the newly formed Orb Protection Order (soon referred to as the ‘OPO’).

Of course, journalists were not the only ones who wanted to see the mysterious object. People came from across the Continent, seeking to see this strange phenomenon for themselves. Some became transfixed, sitting in observation for hours in a trance-like state. Others wanted only to photograph it, to understand it, to try and own some piece of it.

Before long, the visitors were separated into clear factions. The selfie-seekers, the nature lovers, the UFO enthusiasts, the scientists, the religious fanatics.

Some believed they knew what the orb meant. They began to call themselves ‘The Enlightened’ and grew extremely possessive of it. They refused to leave the perimeter just outside the metal fences and resisted the OPO’s attempted intervention, though they never used violence. Their way was peace—as the orb wanted, they said.  

The numbers of The Enlightened grew as the weeks passed by and the Sovereign’s Minister, soon distracted by whispers of war across the Continent, resigned to allow them to stay, as long as they were kept under the watchful eye of the OPO.

“Let no one say I do not allow my people freedom,” he said to the leader of the OPO, a rotund man by the name of David Smee. “But keep a close eye. I won’t have any of the fools injuring themselves.”

***

Eventually, The Enlightened became more settled. They slept in crude shelters fashioned from the trees around them. They appeared to forget about personal care—though they might argue they’d found a far more important purpose. Their clothes became filthy, their hair matted with leaves and debris from the forest floor. They barely spoke to anyone outside of their own circle and when they did it was in stilted sentences. Their eyes took on a feverish glow as they stared at the orb, the object of their undying devotion.

Concerned for their welfare, David Smee consulted with his OPO officers to ensure they were given basic supplies of food, water and clothing. The Enlightened did not acknowledge this support and ate and drank reluctantly when forced to do so with threats of physical punishment; some only did so after severe beatings. They appeared to believe the orb would sustain and protect them and that they had no need for physical nourishment. After the first force-feeding, however, the rest soon began to eat and drink their rations.

After a time, the excitement of the Continent’s journalists wore off and the outside visitors to the orb became less frequent. The Enlightened remained at their post, not so fickle as to lose faith simply because others had. Some members of the group had families, jobs, homes—all were neglected, apparently forgotten. The city of Londanis fell into decline, despite the Sovereign Minister’s best efforts to counteract the loss of so many of its citizens to the orb. The Enlightened did not care for the impact on the city; they cared only for the orb, chanting daily for hours at a time in some unknown language. No one knew whether they’d made it up or whether the orb had somehow bestowed it upon them.

When loved ones tried to pry them away, The Enligtened individuals stared blankly, appearing not to see them at all. It was believed that their vision had been impaired from hours of staring at the orb. Reluctantly, their loved ones left them behind, though they continued to petition the Sovereign’s Minister to do something, though they couldn’t be sure what might help.

With the coldest months looming, the OPO became concerned for the safety of these individuals. Despite the heat of the orb, they worried about death from exposure, especially as most members of The Enlightened had taken to wearing nothing but their muddied underwear. David Smee was summoned to a meeting with the Sovereign’s Minister, wherein he was advised that the cost of maintaining the OPO was becoming too much for Londanis; that they were soon to be disbanded, The Enlightened left to fend for themselves.

“Perhaps we should just let the bloody idiots die, if that’s what they want,” one member of the Sovereign’s Council said, raising his bushy white eyebrows at his fellow Council members.

The meeting had left David with a knot in his stomach and a pang of sadness in his heart. Surely there was more they could do?

That afternoon, he summoned Linda McTavish, lead Star-Scientist and expert on all things mysterious and unexplained. “We need to know where it came from,” he said. “What does it want?”

“Leave it to me, Commander Smee,” Linda said, pushing her black-framed glasses up on her nose. “My team and I will find you answers.”

David hoped he could believe her. If the orb could be removed, the poor sots who’d been drawn in by it would, he trusted, simply return to their normal lives and everyone could just get on with things.

Whether out of fear or respect, no one had attempted to touch the orb until then—not even The Enlightened, who kept themselves at a reverent distance. Linda and her team discovered there was an invisible and impenetrable barrier approximately 6 inches from the surface of the orb. It was impossible for them to establish what the orb was composed of or where it may have originated form. She measured the scalding air temperature around it, wondering how The Enlightened weren’t being burned given their modest choice of clothing.

Linda also tried to establish whether there was a pattern to the fluctuation of the orb’s light. After a 3-day experiment, it was confirmed to be completely random, with seemingly no fixed sequence or reason for the variation in brightness.

The Star-Scientist and her team also attempted to interview each member of The Enlightened but were unable to gain any sense from their garbled comments and foreign-tongued muttering. No one could decipher the language; there was no other like it on Earth. Linda was, for want of a better word, stumped. She reported her findings to David Smee and packed up her equipment.

“I’m sorry, I really wish I could help,” she said. “It’s just the Sovereign’s Minister has called us away to—”

“No, no, say no more,” Dave said, scratching the hairline beneath his OPO-issue woollen hat. And then, when she’d left his office, he muttered, “Shit.”

***

The Enlightened continued their daily chanting. For as long as they could through the winter, the OPO ensured they were fed, watered and clothed sufficiently, though their numbers were dwindling, and their hours were cut. An OPO office would deliver supplies once a day and check on the group, though the 24-hour surveillance had ceased due to budget restraints.

Life went on in the Continent at large. Months came and went, and the orb remained.

Until, that is, one cloudy, unassuming day in early February.

Everyone in the town reported being awoken by a distinct and deafening pop. A group of the last remaining OPO operatives was quickly rounded up to check on the orb. Civilians related to members of The Enlightened were also keen to go, in case something had happened to their loved ones.

They weren’t prepared for what they discovered.

The camp was empty. A fire still burned, over which hung a pot of scorched beans and a pair of muddy underpants. The people, however, were gone.

And so was the orb.

An investigation was carried out, but where could the OPO even start? They hardly had the resources to investigate, and the Sovereign’s Council had long-since moved on to other matters.

Besides, without knowing where the mysterious object had come from, it was impossible to know where it possibly could have gone.

The only clue found was an awkwardly scrawled note, the handwriting like that of a child, the language stunted and broken. It said: Promised land. No look. Safe. Enlightened.

David puffed air through his lips as he held the note up to one of his officers. “We should have listened to them after all, eh? I thought they were crazy.”

His colleague sighed and patted him on the back. “Come on,” she said. “We’d better get down to the Employment Office.”

“I suppose so,” David said.

And they left the camp without a backward glance.