Unlocking Tomorrow

By Josie Grossman

The City of Arsane is as old as its founder. Created from the war that tore down what was once America, Arsane rose as the world’s newest establishment, led by, of course, Archibald Arsane. At 116 years old, the city was still so weak in comparison to the rest of the world's global powers. 

Kylo has been trying to break into Arsane Offices since he was old enough to spit paper balls through straws at his grade school teachers. A domineering building, it sits in the direct middle of the City Centre, dwarfing the rest of the city with its height. 116 stories high, constructed entirely from opaque glass that almost hurts when you look for too long. The entirety of the city operates within its four walls, everything from lawmaking to powering utilities to controlling flights in Arsane’s Airport. The top three floors are supposedly where Mr. Arsane resides in his penthouse and keeps an eye on everything and everyone. 

If he’s even still alive, that is. The rumors of his death started just a few days ago by word of mouth. Inside news from Arcane Offices is scarcely repeated once employees step foot outside the office—the NDAs they sign are nothing short of death upon leaked information—but one of Kylo’s classmates, who has an uncle who has a friend who has a sister who works in the tax branch of Arsane Offices, reportedly had news that Mr. Arsane suffered from a stroke about a week ago, and has been under close medical watch since. The news has spread like wildfire throughout the City Centre, where most schools and workplaces are located. Arsane’s main media sources have said nothing on the matter, as they are operated and approved by Mr. Arsane’s second-in-command. Mr. Arsane is as good as dead, and his government is scrambling to figure out their next moves.

Kylo has been a menace ever since. It is Thursday now, and every day since Monday he has begun his lunch break conversations with:

“So, when are we breaking in?”

He sits at the same outdoor table every day, beside a little man-made pond with electronic fish and fake frogs that pretend to jump in, before recoiling back into their spot every half hour. With him are his three favorite friends: Clove, the most polite of the bunch; Lazarus, who is probably Kylo’s long-lost twin; and Joelle, whom Kylo has been secretly hooking up with for three months now.  

Clove sits with her legs crossed and rolls her eyes. “We are not breaking in, Kylo.”

“Why? Now is a better time than ever! Imagine if we are the ones who confirm that Mr. Arse-hole is actually dead. We’d be legends.” Kylo stands with one foot on the bench, in a lunge position. 

“We’d be in jail,” Clove snaps back. She taps the small screen that’s engraved into the table, punches in her student code, and a hologram screen pops up with today’s lunch selections rotating on display. “Sit down and order, please.” 

“So? Someone would bail us out,” He shrugs, but sits nonetheless, tapping his student code in. On the screen are four options: a genetically modified hamburger, a genetically modified salmon slice, a protein shake with its nutrients listed out, and a dessert. Kylo selects only the dessert. 

“He’s not dead yet. What if he recovers? Then no one could bail us out, we’d be stuck there for life.” 

Kylo shoots Lazarus a look that begs for his help. Lazarus sighs.

“C’mon, Clove. He’s as good as dead.”

“I guess we will find out tomorrow,” Joelle says. Her protein shake comes buzzing over on an electronic tray. She sips it. “If he’s on the weekly newscast. He always is.” 

✵✵✵

The following evening, Kylo, Joelle, Lazarus and Clove all sit in Joelle’s mom’s living room. Joelle’s parents have been split up for years, and her mom is always away on business during the weekends, so the group has made it a routine to spend their weekends at Joelle’s. Her mother’s stocked liquor cabinet is a plus, too. 

Kylo and Lazarus are in the bar area, pouring themselves a cocktail of bubbling purple and sparkling green liquids, their usual. Clove and Joelle sip on neon blue wine. 

It’s common for everyone in Arsane to sit around with family or friends to watch the Friday Night Broadcast. It is how everyone gets their news for the week prior and the week upcoming, but today’s broadcast would be especially watched with news of Mr. Arsane’s health being in shambles. 

“It’s starting!” Joelle yells to the boys as she pours herself another glass, hiccuping in the process. 

Kylo and Lazarus take a quick shot of liquid and bolt into the living room, Kylo flying over the couch and settling in between Clove and Joelle. Lazarus sits in the armchair adjacent. 

Arsane’s national anthem plays as an image of the Arsane flag blowing in the wind loops until it is over, and then the screen fades to the show opener, Mr. Temper, Arsane’s best friend since childhood. He is a short and unattractive man, with a disturbing amount of botched plastic surgery and a wig so shiny you could see it from space. 

If there is one enticing quality about this man, it is his smile, which he flashes before reading out from a teleprompter, “Goooooood evening, Arsane citizens!” 

Kylo boos the screen. Clove shushes him. 

“Today’s date is April 27th, 2056. For this week’s broadcast, we have our usual suspects; Mr. Don O’Hara with this week’s news, Mr. Cade Quarterstaff with upcoming city events, and Mr. Boden Colt with weather predictions. As for country relations…”

Kylo leans forward, practically holding his breath. Joelle is holding his thigh. 

“We have Mr. Judge Willoughby standing in for President Arsane, as he is out of the office for business.” 

The room was silent. The telecast continued, but none of them were listening. 

Kylo clicked his tongue. “‘Out of office for business, huh?” With a sly look, he raised his brows at Lazarus. “You know what that means?”

Clove buried her face in her hands. “Please, no.”

Kylo stood up and downed the rest of his drink. “We’re breaking into the Arsane Office. Tonight.”