Lying on his unkempt bed, Ridge stared vacantly at the ceiling. It was not just the ceiling he was fixated on. He had been watching the ceiling fan rotate for what felt like an eternity since waking from a dream. The dream itself didn't seem to hold any meaning. Yet, he still could not wrap his head around it. Images of sprockets and a conveyor belt lingered in his mind... it had been delivering something to him. Was it the Sensing Snowglobe? Ridge stroked his forehead with the back of his hand then dragged it over his eyes. Of course, it had to be the object of scorn—he would obsess over nothing else. So did every Havenian, when he really thought about it.

   Were the Sensing Snowglobes truly objects of scorn? Or was it the system itself? The system turned people into slaves to their own Sensing Snowglobes. Havenians always took the Sensing Snowglobe system for granted. Some even let the system coax them into labor. Maybe that was why people followed it blindly; they believed it was not just forbidden to reject, but also a prerogative and a privilege to have.

   Ridge tilted his head to the side, peering through the gaps in his fingers at his other handThe small piece from the Diurnal Bridge, the one Professor Yulek had given him, was still wedged between his fingers. After tremendous examination, Ridge came to discover that the Diurnal Bridge was constructed 9,999 years ago. He may need to run more inspections on it, but thus far, he knew how old it was. He also walked to the conclusion that it was a key. A key to something, but to what, he could not ascertain. 

   "My hypothesis was correct. They don't change the Diurnal Bridge, and the sun does almost no damage to it. Maybe this is just a piece from an earlier version, before it was revamped..." Ridge wagged his finger with the chip.

   "That's just foolish." He countered his own thoughts."They can't change the bridge because of the sun and moon system. The material must be one of a kind. But what else is it used for?" Ridge rattled a handful of cashews absently in his other hand as his mind churned. His gaze drifted back to the ceiling fan, and with sudden mischief, he flung all the cashews into the spinning blades. As expected, the blades seamlessly turned the cashews into shards. Like sprockets, the tinier pieces of the cashews sprinkled on top of Ridge's body and bed. He blowed out some pieces out of his mouth but stayed motionless.

   Ridge held up the chip above his cashew crumb specked face. "I have a hypothesis that this will not rip apart."

   With a sharp squint of resolution, Ridge flicked the chip toward the ceiling fan. The chip somersaulted through the air, heading straight for the rotating blades. As soon as it made contact, the fan blades came to an abrupt halt. The chip jammed itself between two blades, stopping them cold and refusing to budge. The blades groaned in protest, but the chip remained lodged firmly in place.

   Ridge furrowed his brows and sat upright. The chip was lodged in a functioning ceiling fan, and it would be best to turn off the fan and take it out before it could zoom through the air, right? Right? At least not in Ridge's book.

   With a buried smirk, Ridge took the sensory controller from his nightstand and pointed it at the ceiling fan. He shook it clockwise, causing the ceiling fan to speed up. The blades twitched and trembled as it tried to push through the chip. As the rotation was still buffered by the chip, Ridge continued moving the sensory controller clockwise, clenching his teeth as his veins bulged out.

   The biggest bolt from the blue came when the chip slipped away. It flew across the entire room in a beeline until it dived into the gap under the door. The ceiling fan recommenced its rotation, tousling Ridge's hair in the wind-beating process.

   Ridge groaned as he got up from the bed and stomped towards the door. He murmured while holding the door handle, "At least my hypothesis was correct. I don't get it though. How can a material of such kind be created 9,999 years ago, much less form an upside down bridge carrying the sun and moon? It was as if the governors-"

   "Ridge!"

   "Yes?" Silence followed Ridge's voice as his eyes flit to his wooden framed transmission screen. He took the muffled chirpy voice to be his mom speaking via the transmission screen, and that was his hypothesis. He furrowed his brows looked back at the door handle. "That's what I thought..."

   As soon as Ridge opened the door, a girl with a red X marking on her cheek beamed, leaning over. "It was me, silly!"

   She was none other than Mavis Bensleigh, Ridge's so-called childhood friend. Her brown hair was tied to a fishtail ponytail with a blue pencil sticking out. She wore a stylish gray coat adorned with white pockets and pearls over a sleek black ensemble—a black top paired with black shorts featuring crisscross straps on her thighs.

   Ridge didn't bat an eye as he stood there, staring at Mavis with a deadpan expression. He then said while wagging his finger at her, "You made my thoughts derail."

   "Heyi, you ingrate. I just came to accompany you to the Falcon Plaza for the Sensing Snowglobe Decree Day. Matter of fact, it will start in half an hour!" Mavis scoffed as she tightened her ponytail. Her wide green eyes wandered to Ridge's L shaped desk, and what was on it piqued her curiosity; there was a matte sheet with a scale drawing of an unidentified piece of material rested on an adjustable book stand surrounded by various portable devices.

   Ridge's eyes followed Mavis's, and his widened mimetically. He quickly moved to the side to obstruct the desk from entering her peripheral vision. "Hey, stop looking at my stuff!"

   Mavis pursed her lips and said. "Heyi! I can't help it when your blueprint is so big."

   "It's not a blueprint." Ridge let out a drawn out sigh and glanced down at Mavis's feet. Beside her high top blue accented shoes was the chip. He cleared his throat and wagged his finger at the crate on his coffee table. He offered evasively, "How about you have some cake? You probably ran to get here on time."

   Mavis's eyes lit up, and she skipped towards the crate and opened it with steps of hi-jinks. She opened the crate and said, "Wow! There are even edible flower petals shaped like a heart."

   While Mavis was indulging herself in some cake, Ridge picked up the chip and flipped it between his fingers while doing a once-over. There was no dent or crease. Nothing happened to it physically. The relief of a hero after a villain had been defeated washed over Ridge. He took his red field jacket from the mechanical hanger beside the door and slid the chip into the pocket before putting it on.

   Mavis's head resurfaced from the crate as the fork idly stuck out of her mouth. You could only imagine the state of her face. She scrunched her white spotted nose up, "Ridge! You better wear the robes for the Sensing Snowglobe Decree Day. That jacket won't fit the atmosphere."

   "Math Olympiad winners get to wear whatever they want," Ridge disclosed as he slid each of his feet into his brown boots. He wagged his finger in beckoning fashion, "Come on. Early falcon catches the worm." He wagged his finger at his pocket watch hanging above the L shaped desk. "And bring me that with you."

   Mavis nodded excitedly and tossed the crate away. She wiped the frosting off her face with the table cloth (Ridge rolled his eyes), took the pocket watch, and handed it to Ridge. As she skipped out of the room, Ridge felt the cold pulse of the pocket watch, his eyes softening as he saw what he always dreamed of seeing; the hand was just an inch away from striking the falcon at the very top. Ridge smiled as he let the pocket watch hang from the ruffle of his shirt. He closed the door behind him, and both- one miffed and the other upbeat- made their way to the tramcar.

   They both entered the tramcar, Ridge reluctantly stepping inside with Mavis, and Mavis started the boisterous and almost pointless talk. Or at least in Ridge's ears.

   "...And when I tell you that the people went crazy over my map 3D depiction of Haven, I mean it! Even the neat freak Polly loved it." Mavis shook her head as she laughed and looked at the sculpted walls.

   "Polly, Professor Faber's daughter?" Ridge chimed in while averting his gaze from the walls to Mavis.

   "Yep. Aren't they the same? The apple does not fall far from the tree." Mavis giggled as she pretended that the pencil in her hair was the apple and her ponytail was the tree. Her face turned serious, her smile still there though, and said, "Ridge, why did you skip the party?"

   "I hate parties involving people I never and will never talk to," Ridge said as he felt the chip in his pocket.

   "Why don't you meet them? Get to meet them before judging them, you know."

   "I pass. They're all dullards." Ridge rested his cheek on his palm as he had his eyes peeled on what was outside in the Indoors. His facial muscles tightened ever so slightly when he saw a man he had never seen before but looked very familiar. The man had slightly disheveled black hair and a– what was that? A pumpkin mouth? Ridge had to do a double take. Indeed, his mouth was similar to Jack-O-Lantern's. His cheeks were orange-tinted, and a part of his black hair was covering a part of his brown eye. The other was grey. His jacket looked eerily similar to Ridge's except it was shiny, and his white shirt underneath blended with the white pants with orange lines on the bottom. Even his black shoes had orange lines. He was performing a puppet show to a bunch of huddled-up children, tapping some of the kids' noses with the puppet.

   Ridge leaned to the side as he asked Mavis, his eyes never off of the man, "Who's that ventriloquist guy?"

   "That's Ivan Pelet, the Peletground theme park owner's son." Mavis said as she tightened her ponytail She nodded in Ivan's direction, "He knows how to deal with kids wholeheartedly even after his dad passed away."

   "Whis Pelet died..." Ridge muttered as he watched Ivan throw a sock puppet to the crowd of jovial children. His facial muscles relaxed as he said, "I was ill-informed about that..."

   "Yea. One of the few deaths that happened this year was his. Heyi, I feel bad. The poor man had to come to terms with his dad's absence. Oh well." Mavis sighed wistfully and rose from the bench. Ridge followed suit and they both made their way to the Eye, the center of the Falcon Plaza.

   Ridge could feel the ceremonial drums of the distance pound in his ears. His heart pounded in his chest at the same tempo. The spectacle of the Sensing Snowglobe Decree was so powerful that it could be felt from afar. It sent an electric spark in the air. Maybe literally due to all of the gadget-clothed people, the blimps looming over everyone with blaring speakers and moving searchlights amidst the broad daylight, and most importantly the Yearly Falcon Parade. People gathered around the line of marchers wearing dazzling wings. They were holding a falcon-headed staff with talons at the end, reminding Ridge of the batons the governors owned. The banner carriers caused many heads to turn, most of the banners saying "Happy Heartfelt Day, Havenians" or "Never Visit Nevah". They never put that last one before...but back to the parade. Flag bearers were holding the Havenian flag which was fully maroon and had three white falcon wings as the emblem. The dignitaries waved and smiled while their lazy asses were ensconced on the vehicles being pulled or driven by other people or automatons. Ridge scoffed inwardly. Those useless good-for-nothing VIPs. Above it all, there were displays of mechanical contraptions the more they neared the stage where the Sensing Snowglobe Decree was happening. From working orerries to Leyden jars. It was all colorful despite being brown.

   Mavis broke into a grin as they entered the bustling stage territory. It felt like the stage was about to pounce at Ridge's face. He was bound to be on top of it with his hand curled around what would determine what he would become.

   "I'm so over the moon!" Mavis shouted over the triumphant music. Ridge nodded, his eyes scanning the stage. He wore his usual steely expression, his hand resting on his pocket watch as he thought, By the looks of it, the curtains have just been opened. That means, while they were closed, they must have been sorting out the scrolls with the résumés.

   Mavis noticed her childhood friend was completely transfixed. She elbowed him gently. "Hey, don't worry. When I had mine last year, I kept my cool and still got my Sensing Snowglobe, even with stage fright. It'll pass, I promise. Just like a tumbleweed."

   "Tumbleweed... an interesting choice of words from someone who's never been to Nevah." Ridge raised a brow at Mavis, wagging a finger playfully.

   Mavis grinned, but Ridge could've sworn he saw it falter for a second. She shrugged and tightened her ponytail. "As a cartographer, I should know my geography, right?"

"That's not geography, it's botany," Ridge replied, looking down and muttering, "More like monotony."

   "Did I hear someone say botany?" Faye's ladylike voice chimed in as she approached, her arms open wide. Despite always being soft-spoken, her voice was as captivating as her eyelashes.

   Mavis giggled, stepping forward to embrace Faye. Faye stood frozen for a moment, still smiling, blinking in surprise. Ridge sighed and blew his hair out of his face, giving Faye a nod. Instead of Ridge receiving the hug, Mavis squeezed Faye tightly, causing her to purse her lips while awkwardly returning the hug.

   "Faye, that cake you made was amazing!" Mavis exclaimed, pulling away.

   Faye chuckled, glancing at Ridge before replying, "I'm so glad you both enjoyed it. Treat yourself to the delicacies of life!"

   Ridge felt a bead of sweat form. It wasn't the time for nerves to kick in, but here he was. He let out a nervous laugh, which took Faye by surprise, even earning her admiration. He quickly turned to the speaker on the stage. The music faded, and the speaker adjusted the microphone at the podium. After mumbling something and wiping off some dirt from the mic, he grinned his most charming smile and announced in a booming voice, "Happy and heartfelt day, Havenians, and, more specifically, a joyful Sensing Snowglobe Decree Day!"

   The speaker paused, waiting for applause. In the absence of an ovation save for a few claps and whoops, he continued, "Today, another year means another chance for us to celebrate all our students' accomplishments. Today is not just a jamboree, but also a dream come true for all graduates. Today is the day where everyone's future is determined, and the Secondary Coverts College appreciates the dedication each student has put in. Everyone completed their courses, Personal Projects, and even the extracurriculars, and all of that gets compressed—" A few gasps were heard from the crowd. The speaker waved his hand dismissively. "My bad. Wrong choice of words. All of that gets, what should I say..."

   He eyed the audience expectantly. Someone shouted, "Homed in on to," and the speaker smiled warmly, "Yes, thank you. All of that gets homed in on to the career that will be envisioned shortly by the Sensing Snowglobe. We'll start by giving the spotlight to this year's representative."

   "The representative for this year is one of the most skillful professors Secondary Coverts College has ever seen. He received his Sensing Snowglobe 32 years ago, when his future was sealed to become who he is today: a bright Physics professor with remarkable insight and a talent for teaching even the most troubled students. And need I mention, he has helped over a thousand students? Please, give it up for Professor Yulek!"

   A round of hearty applause erupted, and the screen above the stage flickered to life. Yulek appeared, though his appearance raised eyebrows—except for Ridge. His eyes were droopy, and his sunken cheeks were more pronounced than usual. His hair wasn't tied back in a neat bun; instead, it hung messily to the side of his worn face. It looked as though they had brought a skeleton, painted it, put a wig on it, and dressed it in Yulek's purple blazer. Even his pince-nez was absent. There was no sign of his usual soda either. He still looked utterly depleted, his eyes flicking toward something longingly, which Ridge recognized as the hourglass he kept refilling with sand. Ridge thought while wagging his finger, This is why they shouldn't do it live. Fools...

   Yulek's brittle voice echoed through the speakers, stirring a sense of concern. "Thank you. I'm glad I could make it here as the—the—" Yulek belched and groaned, "the representative this year for the annual Sensing Snowglobe Decree Day."

   As Yulek seemingly wiped his already clean desk in circles, the speaker let out a nervous laugh, furrowing his brows. He glanced surreptitiously to the side of the stage, shaking his head and shrugging his hands. Turning back to the screen, he grinned into the microphone at the podium. "Say, Professor Yulek, is there anything you'd like to tell the graduates about the Sensing Snowglobe?"

   Professor Yulek buried his face in his hands and retched. He sniffled and nodded before slowly removing his hands. "I won't disclose the physical properties of the Sensing Snowglobe, but all I can tell you is... is..."

   Yulek's mouth hung open as he stared off into the distance desolately. He lifted his chin and rubbed his mustache. The young Yulek who had died long ago seemed to re-emerge, his fascination with the world beyond the walls shining through. Only Ridge noticed this. Yulek spoke almost in a twisted lull, "...it is not the answer to the question of how you will achieve what you want. What you've been working for. What you've set your sights on. It's the total opposite of that."

   Ridge tilted his head, feeling the chip inside his pocket while his other hand fiddled with the pocketwatch. Yulek ground his teeth as he rocked back and forth, adjusting his imaginary pince-nez. "Your fascination has limits. That's what the Sensing Snowglobe is all about, missuses and misters. It limits what you want to accomplish. You want to be something, but that something can't be done." He started speaking to himself, clutching at invisible straws. "I was so close, but I'm a laissez-faire man. I couldn't change it; it would've been the worst course of action. But, but— it was foolish of me! They were right. They changed mine for the best. I was so close! The exit, the exit, the exit, oh—"

   The audience exchanged uneasy glances as Yulek whimpered. His words and mannerisms completely shattered the light-hearted mood of the event. Even Mavis and Faye looked at each other with shared expressions of concern. Only Ridge kept his unwavering gaze on the screen, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

   Before the situation could devolve into a full debacle, the speaker cleared his throat and waved his hand rapidly, prompting the screen to shut down. "Thank you, uh, Professor Yulek. Such peculiar words. I'm sure that was meant for a fantasy play... or perhaps a fable." Ridge laughed at that. Not only because Yulek couldn't hear him, but because the speaker had chosen to mask Yulek's words with a ridiculous twist.

   The screen flickered back to life, displaying the slide for the Sensing Snowglobe Giveaways. The audience erupted into layered applause and whoops. An orchestral piece played in the rowdy yet music-to-the-ears background. Ridge's chest heaved. It was happening.

   "The moment you've all been waiting for, Havenians! The Sensing Snowglobe Giveaways!" The speaker's booming voice delivered those long-anticipated words. "We'll begin with the graduates with the fewest awards, working our way up to the graduate with the most."

   Mavis shook Ridge by the arm. "That's you, Ridge! You're the one with the most! Fair and square, trust me." Ridge didn't respond. He was lost in the build-up, bracing himself for what was coming next.

   An automaton, gilded in gold, emerged from the side of the stage with a wooden, interwoven basket inserted into its torso. Its golden head was topped with a steampunk-style crown, blending regal design with industrial importance. The crown had a bronze hue, adorned with small gears, cogs, and other mechanical components. Each peak of the crown ended in a spherical tip.

   The speaker gestured toward it, "Please, give it up for the awards certifier, the Sensing Snowglobe giver, Boon!"

   The crowd cheered as Boon mechanically strode to the center of the stage. Ridge squinted at it, focusing on the crown. His plan was simple: once the Sensing Snowglobe emerged from Boon's crown, he would insert the chip from the Diurnal Bridge, causing it to malfunction. When Boon became defunct, the Sensing Snowglobe Giveaway for Ridge would have to be delayed. During the following year of hard work, Ridge would not only focus on building a résumé for a career in heroism and inventiveness, but also convince the governors to overhaul the Sensing Snowglobe system. He would push through the tediousness, but it would be worth it.

   The speaker opened a sideboard on the podium, standing beside it as he grabbed the microphone. He bent down, retrieving a scroll tied with a brown ribbon. "First graduate coming up on stage with three awards—teamwork, linguistics, and sportsmanship—is Shaima Soud."

   Shaima capered up to the stage, holding onto her robes and balancing a notebook on her head. As she reached the center of the stage, the speaker handed her the scroll. Shaima skidded to a stop by Boon, jogging in place as she placed the scroll inside the basket, holding her hands out toward its crown. The cameraman in the front activated the antique camera and pointed it at the crown. The live feed displayed on a looming blimp above the stage.

   With a divine entrance that exuded glory and prestige, a shiny snowglobe rose into the air, its virtue enhanced by the height. Its stand was decorated with what appeared to be volleyballs.

   As the audience cheered jubilantly, Ridge's eyes widened in horror. His face fell as he realized the catastrophic change on the screen. The crown encircling the Sensing Snowglobe, as it was yanked by Shaima, had no opening—only a panel that ejected the Sensing Snowglobe. There was no way for Ridge to execute his plan now. It was as if he watched his entire kingdom collapse on the screen before him.The Boon's metallic voice shaped the clear words "Volleyball Mentor" as its robotic hand dived into the basket and resurfaced with a whistle, saying "Aptem: Whistle" and handing it to her. Shaima put on her second whistle and cheekily grabbed both whistles around her neck and whistled through them a frisk tune. Some people laughed heartily at her gesture, including Mavis and Faye. Ridge was far from engaging in that. He rubbed his pocketwatch underneath his jacket, making him sweat profusely. It was not the jacket that did so. Ridge's face darkened as he pulled the pocketwatch out and stared at it. There was just a sliver of distance between the hand and the falcon. He was between a rock and a hard place, and by rock it was the pocketwatch. His thoughts clashed into one another.

   "That's it! I'm done for. I've tried to leave stones unturned, but it was all in vain." "What are you doing? Think of a second plan." "Now I get why even someone like professor Yulek could not fix everything and just fell into despair." Ridge's eyes shifted around rapidly. "There is no going back. I will get the Sensing Snowglobe and become a computer scientist. I will be just like dad, a boring geophysicist. I will not open a new chapter; the boredom will still appear in my pages of this miserable Havenian life. Boredom is death, except that it can be dodged. But in this case, I cannot dodge death single handedly."

"...And now, for the final graduate to come up on stage. They have proven to Haven that they are the contender when it comes to... everything, oh my! With 254 awards, chiefly in mathematics, physics, and computer science, please give it up for the best graduate of the sixth times ten to the power of thirteenth, Ridge Kindler!"

   Ridge blinked. "Already?" He felt his feet moving as Mavis and Faye cheered him on. The crowd erupted with enthusiasm and encouragement, likely thinking that Ridge was having cold feet. His feet kept moving as he ascended the staircase leading to the stage, each step heavier than the last. He could feel his face contorting sourly, as if he'd eaten a lemon.

   The speaker clumsily placed the microphone back on the podium and, while handing Ridge the scroll, said, "Boy, where are your robes?"

   "I'm allowed to wear whatever I want," Ridge muttered quietly, feebly accepting the scroll and stepping toward the center of the stage, where Boon was stationed. His feet seemed to freeze, rooted to the hard wood beneath him.

   Ridge's face went numb. He couldn't tell what his expression looked like anymore—was it distraught? In disbelief? He swallowed a lump in his throat, the weight of realization hitting him. He cupped his hands around the crown, staring at it with the same intensity that Professor Yulek had. Slowly, he placed the scroll inside the basket. It was time—falcon time. Ridge felt the pocketwatch pulse against his chest and, surreptitiously, he looked down at it. The hand struck the falcon, and Ridge could feel the falcon's wings flap freely. Even without pressing it to his ear, he could hear the sound like chimes.

   A snowglobe emerged, first from the sphere, then from the lining, and finally settled onto the stand. Inside was a landscape of mechanical industry, adorned in brown and bronze accents. In the very center stood a clock tower. Ridge's vision blurred as he struggled to take in the beauty of it. He could feel the sprockets etched into the stand, his fingers curled around it, stiff despite his best efforts. Slowly, he turned to face the loud, cheering audience.

   It all seemed distant now. The cheers, Boon's metallic voice announcing "Industrial Machinery Mechanic" as it tucked a pocketwatch into Ridge's hand, and the speaker exclaiming, "Take it away!"—all faded. No... the song was called "Paint."

"Another life, we may work always..."

"I want to fly, like a falcon with you by my side..."

"Even when I grind, every day will be a celebration..."

"I promise you I will paint, a painting I'll never abandon..."