Beginning…
My mum once told me that every soul in our
universe is governed by a planet, and once the body
dies, the soul floats towards its home in the heavens.
“When the time comes for me to return to my planet,
you can visit me whenever you want. Just follow the
stars dipped in sparkling gold dust,” she said.
She loved drawing pictures of the skies. To her,
it was like speaking in another language. From stars to
planets, comets to asteroids, she could understand the
conversations between billions of objects in our
galaxy. Sadly, I never had the chance to learn
more because soon after my ninth birthday, she died
in a traffic accident.
Now, I lie on my bed every evening, staring at
the sky, hoping to see my mum one more time and tell
her how much I miss her.
Venus was her planet, that glittering morning
and evening star camouflaged by heavy clouds.
Chapter One: The Tiny Stone Cylinder
It was a bleak, gusty Sunday evening in September,
the twenty-fifth day of the month. I was lying on
my bed, staring at the sky through the large
windows that covered half the ceiling. The clock read
twelve minutes past nine. The stars looked ever so
shiny, even through the gloomy smog that buried the
entire sky. There was Capella, the sixth brightest star
in the night sky, twirling at Vega with her golden,
glistening sparks. Near to Vega was Deneb, a
supergiant star, chattering along with Altair, furiously
twinkling blue and white beams. It seemed like
something alarming was about to happen.
Only a few planets were visible tonight. Mars,
God of War, the bravest warrior of all, was pushing
towards rebellious Uranus. Perhaps he was getting
ready for his next conquest. Jupiter, King of the
Gods, was racing in between them, creating an illusion
of galloping amongst the stars beyond counting. They
all looked very awake, as though there were millions
of people living on them.
In my right hand, I was firmly holding a tiny
stone cylinder that my mother had left for me before
she died. Just this morning, my father had decided it
was time for me to have it. After such a surprise, I
should have been filled with joy, yet my face had
blushed bright red with annoyance. Why had he
waited so long to give it to me? It made no sense. I’d
ground my teeth and given him a mirthless smile,
impossible for him to ignore.
“It’s what your mum wanted,” Dad moaned,
with a defensive note in his voice. “She strictly told
me to give you that stone thing this morning.”
“Why today?” I asked, expecting an explanation.
What was so special about 25 September 2018?
Dad couldn’t say, or he chose not to.
Looking for clues, I held the stone cylinder in my
hands, right in front of my eyes. No use. My room
was as dark as a cave, and it was impossible to see
anything. Hardly surprising. There were no lights in
the room except for the small bedside lamp that
hadn’t worked since my last birthday. That was nearly
seven months ago.
Just as I slid the cylinder upwards, under the
moonlight, spears of light pushed their way through the
windows on the ceiling, brightening the dimmed room.
I could even see the small flakes of paint falling from
the old, crumbling walls. In an instant, strange symbols
appeared on the outer surface of the cylinder. They
shimmered and then faded away like an illusion. It must
have been the glare from the stars.
Feeling exhausted, I closed my eyes and instantly
found myself travelling up to space in a tiny glass
spaceship, wearing my pyjamas.
“Odd,” I muttered. Would I be able to breathe in
space without a special suit? That was a question for my
teacher, Mrs. Higgins.
As my spaceship broke through the Earth’s
atmosphere, the murky shadows of city lights below
started to get smaller and smaller with each passing
second. Soon, I could only see snow-painted peaks
and clear-blue waters.
My mind was stirred by memories of the past. A
wonderful sense of hope that I was going to find my
mum filled my heart with great joy. It was so easy to
picture her face in my mind now, her dark brown curls
falling across her shoulders, and her oval-shaped hazel
eyes watching me, as always, with a patient smile.
Suddenly, a huge blast of light exploded like a
thousand fireworks in one blow, followed by a bolt of
lightning that tore across the stars. Out of nowhere, a
giant robot with bizarre hands like cranes appeared,
grabbing anything it could in total silence. It was as tall
as the trees in our garden. A group of tiny metal
creatures emerged from all around the robot, with long
tails and gigantic mouths in their bellies. They moved
aimlessly, in packs, all of them silent as well. Perhaps it
wasn’t possible to hear sound in space? Well, there was
another question for Mrs. Higgins.
Above it all, an array of never-ending tracks
crossed in every direction like a massive cobweb. The
tracks looked a lot like luggage conveyor belts in an
airport. In slow-motion, the space robot placed a few
objects onto the tracks. Everything else, it clumsily
shoved into the mouths of the metal creatures that
battled for the junk as if they were predators going
after their prey.
As soon as the metal creatures gobbled the bulk
of the space junk, they wagged their long tails to show
how happy they were. Next, they passed through a
circular disk surrounded by multi-coloured flashing
lights with flames in the middle, which glittered from
all angles. A few moments later, the metal creatures
returned for more.
Could this well-lit disk be a gateway of sorts? I
wondered where it led to. Maybe a planet, or even
another galaxy. Maybe Venus.
Maybe it led to my mum.
Flustered, I barely noticed the giant robot was
advancing towards me. After all, I could hear nothing.
In a flash, the enormous junk machine clasped hold
of my spaceship and heaved it onto one of the tracks
above.
My heart pounded like an alarm clock. Afraid of
what might happen next, I tried to get the giant
robot’s attention by hammering on the glass cover of
the spaceship with my fists. It didn’t work. The robot
kept on coming, closer and closer.
Gathering all my breath, I screamed,
“Hellooooo!”
It didn’t answer.
I breathed air onto the glass to form a fog and
wrote ‘Hello’ with my fingers. The robot leaned its shiny
metal head gently towards me and stared blankly at the
writing before the word evaporated slowly into thin air.
Maybe it couldn’t read the reversed letters from the other
side of the glass.
Then, mirroring my actions, it blew a powerful
shot of steam onto the glass and used its sharp crane
fingers to scribble some words. It was a good thing
the robot used backwards writing, because if not, I
wouldn’t be able to read the letters.
‘MUZU ANA?’ it wrote. What language was
that? French, or maybe Spanish?
Growing impatient, the robot’s rectangular eyes
opened as wide as my classroom windows, then it
pointed at itself and wrote ‘Aki’ on the steamy glass. I
was watching its every move, but still, I had no idea
what the robot was trying to tell me.
Next, the robot placed its hands on the glass and
stared into my eyes. Not sure why, I moved my hands
and placed them against the robot’s crane fingers.
With the glass between us, I eventually met its eyes.
They glowed bright orange.
Then, something strange happened. Something
very unusual. The voice of the robot vibrated in my
mind even though it said nothing. Aki was its name,
and it wanted to know mine.
‘Alya.’ I jotted my name on the steamy glass
cover and waved at the giant robot with a big smile on
my face. Clearly not interested, the robot stepped away
from the spaceship and gave me a haunted look, as if
something was terribly wrong. In a flash, the giant
junk-box flew up and disappeared behind the dazzling
stars, into a black void.
I was so happy I hadn’t ended up in the metal
creature’s belly, but I had no clue where I was, or
where the spaceship was taking me. An infinite
number of objects drifted around, but not on the
track, which seemed to have an invisible deflective
shield shoving away anything that came close.
Floating steady, I watched the glittering stars
dancing elegantly like swans on a lake. It was hard to
tell how long I had been on this path. It must have
been days, maybe even weeks, though my watch was
still showing twelve minutes past nine. Maybe clocks
didn’t work in space. That was a question for Mrs.
Higgins too, should I ever return.
After a powerful engine roar, the capsule began
to move much faster. The loudest scream escaped my
mouth, echoing all around me. Engine roar? Something
must have boosted my hearing; I could pick up even
the quietest sound now. Maybe I had developed
superpowers in space! I couldn’t wait to tell Ben, my
best friend. For now, though, it was time to focus. Not
far ahead, the track looked damaged. As I moved
closer, I realised how grave the situation was. The path
had split through the middle. Dangerous-looking
bundles of cables were hanging everywhere, flickering
and making quirky sounds. It would be impossible to
jump over to the other side. Unless I did something
quickly, the capsule would plunge through the black
pit, and I would fall with it. More superpowers would
be very handy now . If only I knew where to get
some…
I was almost in the middle of the track, and
sparks from the damaged cables were dropping onto
my spaceship, melting wherever they fell. My heart
was beating heavily in my chest. A loud voice echoed
through the track. For sure, it was calling my name.
“Alya… Alya Manning…"
The voice became stronger the closer I got to
the broken part of the track. Desperately, I searched for
buttons, anything to control the ship, but there was
nothing except an empty dashboard.
The ship failed to stop and fell down into the
dark, dark hole. I scrunched my eyes tight and hooted
with all my might, but there was no one to hear.
In a blink, I escaped the metal creatures and the
giant robot, passed meteoroids, passed stars, entered
the Earth’s orbit, bounced through the clouds…and
then everything blacked out.
Funny, someone was still calling my name.
“Alya? Alya, are you listening? Turn the light off
and go to sleep!”
To my relief, the deep, croaky voice belonged to
my dad. Okay, hard to believe but I was very pleased
to hear him. Even my surroundings were familiar
now: my fluffy, soft bed, worn-out mahogany
wardrobe, and large ceiling windows. This was my
very own room. But…how strange. The lamp beside
my bed, the one that hadn’t worked since my last
birthday, was glowing bright yellow. In my right hand,
I was tightly clasping the tiny stone cylinder. The stars
were still shining through my ceiling windows, and the
clock on the wall read just thirteen minutes past nine.
Chapter 2: The Trip to the British Museum
The barely warm autumn sunlight was still
bright enough to break my sleep before the
old alarm clock rattled. My whole body felt
jet-lagged, as you would expect after a very long
journey. It was difficult to say whether I had travelled
to space in a tiny glass spaceship or if it was only a
dream. I gazed at the stone cylinder in the palm of my
right hand. All the writing on it had vanished, and it
looked rather ordinary now. Maybe it was just a simple
gift from my mum. Something to help me remember
her.
I packed my school bag, dressed in my uniform,
and sped down the stairs for breakfast. Dad looked
baffled to see me up and ready so early.
“Well, this is a surprise. I guess someone can’t
wait to go to school today,” he sniggered, with a big
cheesy grin on his face. “Anything exciting
happening?”
On any other day, I would have challenged him,
but not today. My mind was already distracted with
countless questions, and I had no interest in banter.
“Can I get my packed lunch please?” I asked,
nicely.
Puzzled by my politeness, Dad tried to say
something, but I quickly interrupted him.
“Thanks, Dad. See ya later.”
His face blushed a deep red, and he burbled
something. I didn’t have the slightest idea what he
said, and I did not care. To be honest, he often spoke
a lot of nonsense.
I found Ben at the front entrance of school,
standing like an important ancient monument, proud
and grand. Something didn’t look right. He wasn’t
wearing his school uniform.
“Why are you dressed like this?” I quizzed him.
“What do you mean, why am I dressed like this?
Why are you in your school uniform?”
“Hmm, let’s see…” I tapped my finger against
my chin. “I guess, because we are at school?”
“Not again.” Ben sighed heavily. “You forgot,
didn’t you?”
“Forgot what?”
“The trip to the British Museum.”
Oh no… I suddenly remembered today was the
day of our school trip, and I’d totally forgotten about
it. “Whoops!” I chuckled nervously. “I was distracted
by the stone cylinder, then my journey to space. The
trip just slipped from my mind.”
Ben looked at me with his dull grey eyes as if I
was crazy. “What cylinder? What space journey?” he
asked.
Taking out the tiny stone object from my bag, I
placed it in his hands. The cylinder turned orange and
burned hot, like the barbecue in our garden. He
dropped the cylinder on the floor and let out a
muffled scream, licking his palm like a dog where the
cylinder had left a strange red mark.
“Are you okay?” I asked, picking up the stone
cylinder.
“Yeah… What just happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied, holding the cylinder
out in my hand for him to see.
Ben examined the stone cylinder like an expert
detective, then his face lit up with excitement. For a
minute, I thought he had unravelled the mystery. It
was a short-lived thought.
“What is it?” he asked with wide, interested eyes.
“Not sure. For all I know , Mum gave it to Dad
to keep safe.”
“Did he not tell you what it’s for?”
“He said he doesn’t know. Mum told him to give
it to me on 25 September, 2018.”
“Why? Is it a special day?”
“I don’t think so. It’s all very confusing.”
Ben, looking more serious than usual, straightened
his glasses. “We need to first uncover when this thing
was made, and then, we should be able to figure out
what you can do with it,” he said. “Maybe it is from
ancient times. Maybe it belonged to a king, or to
someone very important. It looks pretty old,” he
continued.
A king? I had never heard such nonsense! Why
would my mum have something that belonged to a
king? And what facts were there to show the cylinder
was old?
“If only I could understand the symbols on it,”
I muttered.
“What symbols? There is nothing on it,” Ben
grumbled as we filed into the school hall.
“Well, they were there yesterday evening. I held
the cylinder up, and strange symbols appeared on it.
They were like pictures or writing.”
He was about to say something, but Ms. Ingham,
our headteacher, began to torment us with a lengthy
speech about the rules—yes, the rules—for our school
trip. You know, “Do this, don’t do that…” We’d
learned quickly that we must be silent when Ms.
Ingham was talking, unless we wanted to stay in
during lunch break and stare at the empty walls with
dirty scribble marks all over them.
The tube journey from Finchley Central to
Euston Station was a short and easy one. After, we
had a painstaking walk that felt like running a twenty-
six-mile marathon. Believe it or not, that’s one mile
more than what the Roman soldiers would march in a
day. We walked—or, shall I say, dragged our legs—
through Tavistock Square, which was decorated with
a beautiful garden on the left and stylish Georgian
houses on the right. Then, we strolled by Russell
Square, another small park with towering trees.
“Weather permitting, we will have our lunch in
this park,” said Ms. Ingham, sounding unhopeful. No
one could blame her. London, our great capital city,
was rather famous for its constant rain, so it was best
to not get our hopes up.
A right turn into Montague Road, and there it
was: the side entrance to the British Museum. Personally,
I liked the front entrance on Great Russell Street
better. With its magnificent columns and sculptures,
it resembled the portico of a Greek temple rather
than a museum. I used to come here with my mum at
least once a month, and that was the entrance we
always used. She would chat to this old gentleman
with large rectangular glasses covering almost all of
his face. I think he was called Mr. Benson.
A member of the museum education team, with
the name tag ‘Grace,’ welcomed us. She was dressed
very smartly and wearing her straight, light brown hair
in a low bun. She looked serious but charming at the
same time.
“Welcome to the British Museum. Are you ready
to walk through history?” she asked in a cheerful
voice.
“Yes!” we answered as loudly as we could.
