It was now twelve am, which meant that curfew was set in Haven.

   Prior to plugging the memory stick into his own printer in his warmly lit room, Ridge had finally discovered the way to reach the bridge in the manor's storage room, which would ultimately lead him to Nevah. While the memory stick adjusted to the new printer, he began constructing the tool at his L-shaped desk. The tool he had mulled over in the brainstorming corner after first encountering it in Alula—that was the one that would take him to the moon. At 10 p.m., the moon would hang in the far left section of the Diurnal Bridge. Ridge would sit or stand by the waterwheel in Falcon Plaza and look up at the moon. His gaze would be brief but thoughtful. Especially with the blimps, it was hard to focus on the moon as it gleamed through the Diurnal Bridge.

   Ridge had noticed that the moon appeared large enough for a person to stand on, comparing its size to the already massive blimps. Beyond the obvious, he had mapped the moon's speed and the distance between its body and the sky—or ceiling, as he preferred to call it. The celestial bodies of the sun and moon would actually pass through the sky, leaving no gap between Haven and Nevah. The only opening was the so-called exit to Nevah. Ridge was still uncertain about what he could now make of it, but he was sure the exit was reachable at 5 a.m.

   "Given that the moon travels at around two thousand miles per hour, the distance between its body and the sky, eight hours after its full appearance (at 7 p.m.), would be only two meters—just above the average height of Havenians. Assuming the governors who attend these outings wear high boots, they could easily reach the exit. The only issue is that this means they'd depart to the moon and Nevah at 5 a.m.—five hours after curfew and an hour before sunrise. But why would they need the full five hours?" Ridge mused as he paused from constructing the tool. He leaned back in his swivel chair, letting his head dangle off the headrest while holding the graph up. He flipped it over to reveal an inked diagram of the circular chart that highlighted the Diurnal Bridge's sun-and-moon system. In Haven, the unit circle perfectly mapped the Diurnal Bridge's sun-and-moon system. The positions of the sun and moon were marked along the circular path. It also included hourly time indicators to show exactly when the sun and moon appeared in Haven. The sun signified daytime in Haven, while the moon represented nighttime. The reverse was true for Nevah, since both celestial bodies moved at the same speed, so Ridge had to keep that in mind.

(Ridge's Diurnal Bridge Diagram: )

    Ridge pressed his index finger against the point on the 345-degree line that represented 5 a.m. as the moon, or 6 p.m. as the sun. The diagram represented a full 24-hour cycle, divided into degrees. Each degree corresponded to a specific hour. The time of Nevah could also be deciphered, since it gave a visual representation of how the celestial bodies moved in relation to each other, but that was not important for now. What mattered was the tool that would get him to the moon at 5 a.m., so he had to keep his shoulders to the wheel.

   Ridge returned to immersing himself in the creation of the tool that would take him to the moon in no time. It was practical, safe, and could carry the Riskometer. The Riskometer was crucial at all times. Ridge needed it just to protect himself. The pocketwatch, which connected to the Riskometer, was to stay tucked under the ruffle of his shirt beneath his jacket. He couldn't afford to be ill-equipped. If he were, he wouldn't be able to enjoy his visit to the Outdoors. Who knew what risks lay beyond the sky... or the walls. Or Haven as a whole.

   After what felt like a fortnight, Ridge finished creating the tool. He exhaled deeply and checked the time. Conveniently, it was 4:30. A concentrated look crept over his face as he wagged his finger. Now, the thoughts were kicking in.

   "The worst-case scenario would be stumbling across one of the governors who undertake these expeditions. I'm sure I checked the schedule in that room in Alula. It was the right schedule. Even the automaton confirmed it. They only go during harvest season."

   Ridge pushed himself off his swivel chair and yanked the tool off the desk. As he made his way to Falcon Plaza through the barren and dark areas, he glanced at the tool proudly. The parachute-like contraption was deceptively designed, with a propeller shaped like falcon wings. It was made that way specifically to throw off any onlookers. They would dismiss it as just a falcon, since falcons were sporadic in Falcon Plaza. Its true form would be inconspicuous when the sun was not up (as in, when it was "down" by Havenian terms). Attached to the propeller was a talon that looked like it had come out of a claw machine. It snugly held the Riskometer and had a steering mechanism shaped like steel-made nails. There were also two bars resembling the wall that barricaded the waterwheel Ridge would lean against—bars for him to hold onto.

   After donning the shoulder plates and riding the emptiest yet liveliest tram car Ridge had ever been on, he found himself standing dead center in Falcon Plaza, resolutely beneath the Diurnal Bridge. Ridge didn't look up at it—he didn't want to risk breaking his neck. Instead, his eyes took in every detail of the falcon-shaped propeller he had built. He didn't fear, because he wasn't putting his life on the line. He didn't retreat, because he had no regrets. He didn't feel anger, because there was no one around to anger him. It was complete bliss as he readied himself for what he needed to do—at least once in his lifetime.

   There was no hubbub coming from the Havenians around the plaza, as usual. The only sound Ridge could hear was the rhythmic splashing of water being hoisted and then dropped by the waterwheel. Ridge's shoulders sagged in relaxation. He dipped his index finger through the air, not wagging it. He felt his nerves flow out through his finger. Wagging it, ironically, would only cause more stress. Ridge smiled and tucked the same hand under his jacket to feel his pocketwatch. He had to do that in Nevah—of course, he would need to check his pocketwatch, but he also had to find out what the air was like out there.

   If Haven was the half of the world that was strict, advanced, and full of hive mind, then what was Nevah like? "I have a hypothesis that Nevah will be... something else." Ridge chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Kidding. I have a hypothesis that Nevah will be bleak and hollow at first glance, but as I progress through it, it will have a certain spark to it."

   Ridge had reached the pinnacle of his thoughts and took one deep breath of the Havenian air. It would not be his last time. He was bound to return. He stood in a starting stance, holding the propeller with the Riskometer above his head. His hands curled around the bars, luckily rough and rigid. Ridge's eyes began to trace shapes around the sight of the lofty Diurnal Bridge, specifically the moon. Normal shapes, Euclidean shapes, and finally, topographic shapes. Perhaps he had underestimated the importance of those topography worksheets, but good riddance to them anyway.

   Ridge dipped his head as he closed his eyes, the shapes crashing down on him. He bided his own time as he stared at the moon. His eyes then darted to a blimp. 5 a.m. It was time to say good riddance to the Havenian ground, at least temporarily, and take off. With every fiber of his body, he hunkered down until his face flushed slightly. He grunted, and a sound was produced by the propeller tool. Like a slinky, he thrust himself upwards. The falcon wings accelerated, and Ridge's boots ceased to touch the ground of Falcon Plaza.

   There Ridge was, soaring toward the moon. His hair flew downward as his body ascended. He let his legs flail a little, like a child experiencing water for the first time. It was a transcendent experience, seeing the moon grow nearer and larger as the Wing Monuments shrank to the size of pebbles. If he were an astronomy fan, he would have already thrown his hands in the air and called it a day. But he was no astronomy fan, and his ambition reached far beyond that.

   Ridge felt his stomach churn as he was now directly beside the moon. It exuded a glow too bright for the naked eye, prompting him to squint. "Dang it, I should've bought eyewear of some sort! Because I was so hell-bent on finishing the tool and getting here on time, I didn't factor in every possibility. Oh, why stress over something that's already happened? People who live in the past are stupid. Just think about how you'll feel when you experience the Nevah breeze for the first time. You'll be a legend, Ridge. Good riddance to legends about Haven, Havenian anthropology, and Havenian rules."

   Ridge cackled as the almost invisible rotation of the falcon wings slowed down. He landed on the moon and let his arms fall until he was holding the Riskometer properly. He knelt down on one knee and brushed his hand over the moon's silver surface. It was extraordinary, and there was no denying that Ridge admired the sight and the touch. To him, there was a fine line between inspection and admiration. The latter was present as he smiled softly, his touch as light as a feather's graze. Even though the surface was rugged, touching it felt like caressing a moss of glitter gathered underwater. It was powdery, to Ridge's delight.

   Ridge breathed in as he detached the propeller tool. He was surprised that oxygen was still present up here. He couldn't pinpoint why exactly, but it was for the best. He took out a tracker-magnetic device clipped onto the ruffle of his shirt—the classical way of stashing portable devices—and attached it to the talon of the propeller tool while removing the Riskometer. This way, once his outing was complete, he could press the button on his shirt (disguised as an actual button) to send the propeller flying back to him like a boomerang. He stood upright and eyed the propeller tool. He scraped his boots against the moon's surface and looked up. There, embedded in the moon's silver surface, was a mechanical combination lock lodged in a hidden vent.

   The fact that he was so close to Nevah was mind-boggling, but what was even more mind-boggling was the "Personnel Only" sign next to the lock.

   Ridge wagged his finger and laughed, his other hand rummaging through his pocket. "What's that sign for? For silly, curious citizens like me?" What was more curious, though, was the lock hanging there loosely from a... mini bridge? It had to be the handle for a hidden door. Carefully, to avoid shattering it, Ridge pulled out the filament sheet with the encrypted QR code he had printed after transferring the data. However, instead of paper, it was made from condensed cashews—an edible sheet, to put it simply. This was so he wouldn't have to worry about hiding it or burning it after its transient use. It could be ingested and disappear without a trace. Ridge would be living the best of both worlds if he ate it after using it, but he preferred having another creature in Nevah ingest it. That way, he could solidify his innocence, in case the governors found out and started medical testing to pinpoint the devourer of the cashew-printed sheet. Ridge sometimes mentally facepalmed. Maybe he thought too far ahead of himself, but his pocketwatch told him it would be risky to outright eat the filament. Besides, it wouldn't be hard to find an unwary creature that snacked on cashews.

   Ridge indeed found a box with a visible scanner and wasted no time holding up the filament to scan the QR code. Unbeknownst to him, there was another step he had to take to get to Nevah. Once access was granted and the box opened, a mechanical combination lock appeared.

   Ridge extended his hand upwards and felt around it. There was no lining, and the more he felt, the more his hopes diminished and his skepticism grew. With nothing else left for him to do, he wagged his finger at the mechanical combination lock. It seemed worth a shot.

   Without further hesitation, Ridge grabbed the lock and peered at it intently. The number combination consisted of three digits—simple enough. He didn't see a code or catch any hint leading to it back in the manor in Alula. Ridge smirked as he calculated the number of times he would have to enter an individual number on the three locks. It wasn't a smirk of pride, but rather one of cynicism. He thought, glancing aside, It would take around 1,000 attempts, given that the total combinations are the possible numbers to the power of the number of locking mechanisms. Hence, 10 to the power of 3. Assuming it takes three seconds to turn each number from 0 to 1, it will take about 50 minutes—almost another hour. If that hour passes, the person will get squashed between the sky and the moon. They really thought this through, huh? Even the stakes are high for idiotic expedition rookies.

   Ridge clenched his jaw and wagged his finger, lost in a thoughtful stupor. His thoughts ran rampant, and so did the moon. It was getting closer to the sky. Ridge was getting closer to doom—the doom of his ambition. His brows shot upwards as it clicked in his mind. He quickly fumbled with the locking mechanisms until they read "195." Ridge had deduced, in the cold light of day, that the moon was 345 degrees from the original position at 5 a.m. in Haven, while the other celestial body, the sun in Nevah, was 150 degrees from the original at 6 p.m. in their respective time zones. How did he know? Referring back to the diagram he had inked, he realized the 5 a.m. and 6 p.m. points were inverse, meaning the 345 degrees and 150 degrees were simply one line that aligned the sun and moon with the Diurnal Bridge cycle. All he had to do was subtract the 150 degrees corresponding to Nevah's time from the 345 degrees corresponding to Haven's. The difference between the two was the code.

   As soon as Ridge pulled the lock after it unbolted, a wooden ladder staggered down. Wasting no time, as he was short of breath, Ridge clambered onto it while cradling the Riskometer. Every step brought him closer to the Outdoors. Ridge could already feel emotions of exhilaration swirl within him. Here, in the middle of all the buzz Ridge could hear, despite the only sound being the rush of a different air swirling around, was the exit to Nevah—the exit that only governors undertaking outings were meant to use. Even though it was cheesy to admit, he had prepared his entire life for this, and it certainly had to pay off. He couldn't just let his innovative and inventive skills slip through his fingers. He couldn't let the stupid Sensing Snowglobe system decide how to use his talents. His eyes narrowed at the nebulous point in the distance. His hand propped itself against a rocky surface.

   First, it was his head, then the Riskometer, and finally his eyes. They widened and glimmered with newfound excitement and interest. The air sent a welcoming breeze that tousled his hair as leaves drifted past him. The new topological land around him hurtled downward into his vision. He couldn't make out the details just yet; he was too single-minded about his achievement. He had been dreaming of this, and now he was visiting Nevah—the Outdoors.

   The landscape made the dichotomy between Haven and Nevah immediately obvious. It seemed as though the entirety of Haven was underground, save for the Diurnal Bridge, as the other half stood out in reverse, the sun visible from afar. Nevah was in the middle of nowhere, with basalt rocks blanketing the entire area that covered Haven's sky. A maladrous and almost burning stench filled the air. It was barren and silent, except for the occasional shrieks and squawks from above.

   Ridge's senses were heightened as he looked up. A flock of three falcons circled above him enticingly. As if he had done it before, he pulled out the cashew filament and raised his hand. Unflinchingly, he watched as one of the falcons dove downward toward him, taking the filament in its beak. As it fluttered away, its wings sent a strong gust. Ridge felt a shiver as his hair whipped around his head. How heavy it is. He grinned as he clutched his head and took in the vastness of his surroundings in the Outdoors.

   Seeing how simple and deserted Nevah was so far knocked the wind out of Ridge. He finished climbing the ladder, letting out an eruption of laughter he had been bottling up for a long time. He was finally letting it out. He was on all fours as he laughed, invigorated to say the least. The emotions were too intense for him to handle. A surge of extreme excitement coursed through his veins. He laughed uncontrollably, for he could not fathom how he had gotten here. He had forgotten all the hard work it took to get here—all the strife and mundane efforts that led to being in the Outdoors. It was everything he had ever needed.

   Ridge dunked his heavy head into the basalt ground. He noticed some mud and smeared it on his upturned face. He felt all the adrenaline of a thousand savant students who had graduated and faced their Sensing Snowglobes. The feeling of the chunks of rock in the mud on his cheeks only augmented the rush of conflicting emotions.

   "I can't believe it. The exit was under my nose the whole time!" Ridge burst out laughing bitterly as he stood up, swaying from side to side, unable to regain his balance. All the unusualness was being dumped on him. He fixed his eyes on the Riskometer tucked under his arm. With a full-fledged grin, he hoisted it into the sultry Nevanese air, bellowing, "Good riddance to 'Never visit Nevah'!"