For a place not on any map, Neutral Point Zero had great interior lighting.
The team arrived with varying degrees of composure. Amihan tripped over a glowing staircase. Mateo refused to let go of his thermos. Jax kept checking for WiFi. Ellie summoned fog just to make an entrance, again.
The structure looked like a palace built by someone who couldn't decide between futuristic, floating temple or upscale conference hotel. There were flickering glass walls, staircases that twisted like DNA, and vines growing upside-down from the ceiling. Above everything, a massive circular skylight revealed a sky that constantly shifted color, like someone scrolling a cosmic mood board.
The obelisk floated at the center, spinning slowly.
A voice chimed in, crisp and robotic. "Welcome, cultural vessels. You have earned a ten-hour stabilization window before the next surge."
"That sounds like we're expected to survive more of these," said Noah, pulling a fern out of his hair.
"You are," the voice replied.
There was a collective groan, except for Ellie, who had somehow found another cup of tea.
| Their Rooms
They followed glowing footprints down separate hallways, each leading to a door shaped and designed based on their subconscious preferences.
Luz opened hers to find papel picado dancing across the ceiling and a soft marigold glow bathing the room. There was a writing desk, three journals already waiting, and a window that looked out into what appeared to be a different plane of existence. One where her abuelita's garden was alive and well.
Mateo's room had a football net, an asado grill, and a personal tango soundtrack that started playing the moment he entered. He screamed a little. But quietly.
Amihan's door opened into a space covered in family photos she hadn't uploaded anywhere, a bookshelf full of local myth comics, and a massive electric fan that never needed to be turned on. She stared for a long time before whispering, "Okay... mildly terrifying... but also five stars."
Rami found his room already stocked with poetry collections, desert sand in hourglass-shaped lamps, and a desk built into the wall with moving Arabic calligraphy.
Everyone's room was eerily perfect. That made it worse somehow.
Later, in a glass chamber that overlooked floating mountain fragments, they reconvened. There was a circular table made of etched stone, glowing softly with their names.
"Alright," Amihan said, arms crossed. "So. Any ideas what's happening? Besides 'reality is coughing up weirdness'?"
Jax leaned back. "The way I see it, we're the firewall for some ancient magic code. Earth's running on an outdated patch, and we're the hotfix. Culture, language, memory—all that stuff is starting to bleed together."
"That sounds poetic," Luz said. "And possibly very wrong."
"Do we even have a mission?" Mateo asked, clearly tired. "Other than being kidnapped by cosmic IKEA?"
The obelisk lit up. "Your purpose is to maintain the separation and integrity of cultural timelines. Your identities are keys to stabilizing the Atlas Engine. If one fails, the world begins to rewrite itself."
Anaya frowned. "What does that even mean?"
"It means," Ellie said, standing, "that if we don't learn to work together, the world might become a reality soup."
"I hate soup," muttered Noah.
"You're Canadian. You probably apologize to soup."
The table pulsed.
"Next surge site: Morocco. Temporal stitching error in progress. Estimated de-sync in eighteen hours."
Everyone went quiet.
"Do we rest or plan?" Luz asked.
"Both," Amihan said. "We do both."
That night, no one really slept.
In the shared lounge, Amihan and Mateo ended up on the same couch, each hugging a pillow like it was armor.
"I don't get it," Mateo said. "Why us? Out of all the people in our countries?"
Amihan shrugged. "Maybe we're the ones who can change. Or maybe we're just the only ones stupid enough to try."
He laughed softly. "That feels about right."
Across the lounge, Luz sat cross-legged, writing a poem in the air with her finger. The letters glowed, floated, then dissolved.
"I keep wondering if we're being tested or punished," she said without looking up.
"I think it's both," said Noah, sipping water. "We're being asked to protect things we're still figuring out."
| Somewhere Else
In a mirrored hall filled with silk and stars, Hóng Yuán stood alone.
She whispered into a red thread, which shimmered like a heartbeat.
"The tapestry frays. The Atlas Engine hesitates. But they are not ready."
A ripple passed through the glass. Another figure stepped forward. Tall, silent, wearing a cloak made of woven coins.
"No intervention yet," said Hóng Yuán. "Let the oddities fall apart on their own."
She smiled, just enough to unsettle the cosmos.