The Metropolis Series #2: Quinn Beyond Bounds
38. Cassandra’s Whereabouts

CASSANDRA NEVER MADE an appearance at Deus Ex Machina’s gig. Everything went well, and everyone got back to St. John’s safely that night. I went to bed astonished by the lack of chaos, but somehow, I knew that this was the calm before the storm.

The latest conversation I had with Takahiro didn’t give me any reassurance, either. I was pretty sure that Cassandra’s appearance aligning with the intensified corruptions wasn’t a coincidence. My dear evil twin wanted the Metropolis destroyed, after all.

Her silence killed me as the days went by. I couldn’t celebrate Deus Ex Machina’s gig and Bree’s return as much as I thought I could. Everyone was safe, weren’t they? This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? I should have been more than satisfied, yet I attended classes every day and went to bed every night tipping toward the edge, anticipating Cassandra Diaz’s return.

Even a word from beyond bounds wasn’t heard for a while, not even from The MacGuffin. As much as I wanted to visit Ms. Louise and Takahiro to learn more about corruptions (and how it must have been so bad that Takahiro wouldn’t tell me himself,) I couldn’t replace it—though I guess the more believable reason would be that I was scared of commuting to the outskirts of town on my own. I wish Julio would take me there again, but it was like he disappeared after learning that he had written one of Deus Ex Machina’s songs, like the revelation had shattered him.

What hit hardest, I suppose, was that I felt Harumi’s absence more and more after Cassandra pushed her into the Lethe. Her seat in the classroom remained unoccupied for a while, but eventually, the classroom was rearranged, and the desk was gone. Our homeroom teacher had stopped calling her name on the class roster, and when I double-checked the written list on our door, her name wasn’t scratched off or painted over with white ink.

It just wasn’t there.

Ultimately, my worries had to shift to more mundane things from time to time. For example, the woes of the Founding Festival weren’t over. Each class had to submit photos and a detailed report of the stand they put up for the festival. With Harumi not around and my classmates remaining ignorant of such requirements, only Curtis and I bothered to do it.

Thanks to the stupid timelines, however, I wasn’t any help because I couldn’t remember most of the festival.

“Hey, Quinn,” Curtis said. “You took photos of our burger stand, didn’t you?”

“No,” I morosely replied.

“That’s fine. I think I have some on my phone. Also, I couldn’t figure out when Enrique and Jisoo were assigned to man the booth. Do you—”

I shook my head. “I don’t remember…”

At this point, I think Curtis decided to test me. “What did we name the burger stand?”

“It had a name?”

“No.” He shrugged. “We didn’t bother.”

Proving that I wasn’t much help, Curtis compiled and drafted most of the report while I typed and proofread. Once printed, we signed our names at the bottom:

Curtis Andrew Stevenson

Maria Quintana Vasquez

Class 3 Representatives

“Thanks, Stevenson,” said Bree as Curtis gave her our report in the student council room. She filed it under a bunch of other reports submitted to her. “You know, as a student organization, Deus Ex Machina has to submit a report as well.”

Curtis sighed. “Seriously?” he asked flatly. “But all we did was perform for the Battle of the Bands.”

Bree looked just as annoyed. “True. I guess this has something to do with the missing microphone and damaged speakers from last year. It wasn’t the band’s fault, for sure, but they’re now requiring us to list down all equipment borrowed and have them acknowledged by technical support that they’re all in good condition.”

“Oh, I see,” I mused. “We did something like that for our class report, too. We had to make sure all the supplies we borrowed from the storage shed were—”

I stopped when I caught Bree smirking at me.

“Right,” she said, clasping her hands together. “So, I suppose we can get Ex Machina’s report done just in time for dinner.”

Speaking of dinner, you could say that writing that report was a piece of cake. (Ha, ha.) Deus Ex Machina used their own instruments and amplifiers, so with four microphones being the only things we could list down, the report consumed less than half of the page.

And so the days went on worrying about essays to write, equations to solve, and boring books to read. It was just like how I was before the buzz of the Founding Festival began, using schoolwork as a means to stay awake until the ungodly hours of the morning. I found it strange, too strange, that Cassandra had been silent. I figured that it would only be a matter of time until she would appear in my nightmares, chasing me down the forest like she used to, and I couldn’t have that.

I just… couldn’t…

“Vasquez!” the teacher once yelled, jolting me awake. “No sleeping in class, please.”

And he went on talking about the economy or something.

Classes had ended before I even realized it. I was staring at my hands on my desk, trying to stay awake, but I didn’t do a thing as my mind drifted into oblivion. It was only brought back when Curtis tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hey, aren’t you leaving yet?” he asked.

I stared at him. He appeared to be glowing in the afternoon sun.

“What?” I muttered.

“Class ended like five minutes ago,” he explained. “We’re the only ones here.”

I then looked around the empty classroom, rubbing my eyes. “Oh,” I yawned. “Really?”

Curtis raised his brow. “You’re not getting enough sleep, are you?”

“You know, schoolwork,” I said, grabbing my backpack and heading for the door. “Exams are coming, right? I’d better get going.”

“Okay. You go take a break when you can. We have band practice today. I’ll tell the others you’re busy.”

I waved a hand sleepily at him, dragging my feet to my dorm.

This sinister standstill I was in didn’t last very long from that point on. I found it disconcerting that Cassandra still bugged me in her absence, leaving me to wonder when she would come back. I sat on my desk in my dorm, oblivious of each passing hour, my eyes getting drier with every word I read on my textbooks. This was how it was supposed to be, wasn’t it? I wanted a normal life in this new school, and this was as mundane and uneventful as it could get: studying on a Friday night with an empty bowl of instant ramen.

I thought I could at least send Julio a paper airplane with a letter asking how he was. What was going on beyond bounds? Why was there an uncanny lack of chaos in the Metropolis?

I stared at the black and blue sky, taking a blank sheet of paper and folding it into a paper airplane, hoping that it would replace its way to wherever Julio was. I imagined myself opening the window, sending the airplane across the horizon. But a question streaked my mind: Did I really want to do it?

Julio was from another plane of existence, and we only managed to cross paths because he had thought I was Cassandra. I realized that in this Cassandra-free world, in this asphodel, in this purgatory, I didn’t want to go back to that hell I had spent with her, even if it meant cutting off everything related to the Metropolis’ weird side. Come to think of it, whenever I saw Julio, he only brought bad news, and I was tired of it.

I was one of the Author’s main characters, wasn’t I? This was supposed to be a cheesy teenage story, wasn’t it? (Looking at the prominent school setting, that’s probably what it was.) I should be allowed to fulfill the role I was assigned to.

Call me selfish, sure, turning my back on Julio and all of his other companions, but what help was I to them, anyway? I couldn’t control my time-traveling powers, virtually the only asset I had, and I might as well give up on them. I stared blankly at my books again, hoping to replace clarity on their pristine, white pages. Little did I know that I had fallen asleep right then and there on my desk, the night sky glimmering right outside my window.