The gentle, familiar sound of morning television pulled Kean from a restless sleep in his aunt's Manila unit. The shades were drawn, but the sunlight outside felt strong. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the memory of the Eunice photo and Tobie's chilling revelation a heavy weight in his chest.
He reached for his phone and opened Lityear.
KEAN:
Morning, Kaye. How are you feeling? Any lingering headache? I slept badly.
He waited a moment. No reply. (She must still be asleep. Good. She needs the rest after everything that happened.)
He glanced at the small TV on the dresser. It was tuned to a national morning show, the cheerful graphics contrasting sharply with the somber report on screen.
"We return now to the ongoing concerns regarding the Chronic Radiation Syndrome, a neurological fallout from the massive 2019 solar storm. While the storm itself has long passed, experts confirm the lingering radiation exposure still affects the heads and minds of millions across the world. The illness flares up randomly, and often subsides just as suddenly."
Kean sat up, pulling the blanket around him, riveted. The news segment showed generic photos of people clutching their heads or looking confused in hospital beds.
"Symptoms vary wildly. For most, it's debilitating headaches—far worse than a migraine. But for a growing number, the exposure triggers a profound dissociation and mental health crisis."
The screen showed a graphic listing the more severe symptoms. Unfamiliar Dreams or Déjà Vu, Intense Confusion, Unfamiliarity with immediate surroundings. Paranoia and Delusions. Some patients become violently unstable. Verbal Confessions. Repeatedly stating phrases like, "I do not live in this world," or pleading, "Please wake me up."
Kean's breath hitched. That last symptom was the closest the public would ever get to the truth. They weren't crazy; their minds were hosting an alternate consciousness, or their true minds were trapped elsewhere.
"The government continues to search for a definitive cure but the president is still worried and disagreed for the test. And for now, the reality for those suffering from the lingering radiation is unpredictable. We can only hope for stability."
Just as the screen switched to a commercial, Kean's phone vibrated violently, the sound cutting through the morning stillness. It wasn't a text. It was an urgent, full-screen Lityear notification.
FROM: TOBIE
Kean. The public chaos is my window of opportunity. The unstable radiation flow is peaking right now. We must discuss the Method immediately. Answer.
Kean stared from the TV, which was now selling breakfast cereal, to the terrifying face of the masked programmer on his screen. The time for sleep and denial was over.
Kean answered the Lityear video call, immediately putting on his headphones. The mask was there, but Tobie's tone was sharper now, less professional, more urgent.
KEAN:
I'm on headphones. My aunt is here, and I don't want her involved. I'm just going to listen and chat.
Tobie nodded, his masked face conveying impatience.
TOBIE:
"Understood. Time is critical. We have one more person joining us. He is your crucial element in Universe B."
A third panel activated on the screen. It showed a man who looked strikingly like Tobie, but perhaps with slightly different clothing or lighting. He was also masked.
KEAN:
Huh? Who's this guy?
TOBIE:
"Say hello to my other self. He is my eyes and ears on Kaye's reality. This is Toshie."
TOSHIE (Voice, calmer than Tobie):
"My name's Toshie. And I live on your girlfriend's universe. The 289 light-years are my view every day."
Kean shook his head, momentarily stunned out of his technical curiosity and into disbelief.
KEAN:
I really can't believe what's happening. This is more than a conspiracy. This is... I don't even have a word for it.
TOBIE:
"What you're seeing and what is happening now is reality, Kean. Not a dream."
TOSHIE:
"Reality can be a dream if you make it one that you've been dreaming of. Dream can be a reality. Vice versa. However, this paradox can lead to nightmares. And we don't want to live in one."
KEAN:
Yeah, yeah, I think this is cool because I've been a fan of time travel and conspiracies. But I was just shocked that this one became reality. You said I'm light-years away from the portal. How would I meet her then?
TOBIE:
"In our current technology, it would take you hundreds of years to reach the 289 light-year portal. And before you could even reach it, the hole might close."
KEAN:
Hey, what? No way, really? When will the hole close?
TOSHIE:
"We still don't know, however, our theory suggests we have an answer of one hundred years—a mere cosmic blink. That's why Tobie is suggesting this radical idea now. You failed yesterday. You saw the membrane fighting you."
KEAN:
We failed to meet. And I want to meet her as soon as I can. I don't have a rocket ship. What am I going to do?
Tobie and Toshie exchanged a glance that transcended realities.
TOSHIE:
"You see those people going crazy on the morning news, Kean? The ones saying, 'I do not live in this world'?"
"Their minds are not supposed to live in your universe. Their souls switched to their alternate selves. The chaos of the cosmic energy flow caused random swaps. Some made it alive in switching; others caused comatose states in their alternate selves."
TOBIE:
"The immediate cure for the headaches and eventual coma is that modified MRI you saw on the news. We—my associates—invested in and tested it. It precisely manipulates the radiation to reset the brain."
"However, even people with normal minds can use it. If you want to meet her, you will be switching your consciousness to your alternate self's body in Kaye's reality."
KEAN:
Wait, what? Really? So there's still a way?
TOSHIE:
"Yes, but it's dangerously unstable. Your alternate self will switch into your body and might get into a coma too. We have to be very careful."
KEAN:
But, am I going to be selfish with that way? I mean, I'm happy that my other self lives a peaceful life with my ex.
TOSHIE:
"But what about you and Kaye? The two people who created the stable channel in the first place? Doesn't your love deserve to be real?"
KEAN:
"Right. I have to make it to her. She needs me."
It is mid-morning in Manila. Kaye, in Baguio of another reality, has finally woken up, refreshed but dreading the conversation ahead. Kean is pacing his aunt's Manila unit, the image of his alternate self and Eunice haunting him, but the plan he just received from Tobie overriding all fear.
Kaye's profile icon on Lityear glows green.
KAYE:
Good morning, Kean, my love. My headache is gone. Did you talk to Tobie? What did he say about the cure?
Kean stopped pacing. He knew he had to be firm and clear; this was no longer a dream, but an operation.
KEAN:
I talked to Tobie, and his alternate self, Toshie. They explained everything.
KAYE:
Wait, his alternate self? That's… too much. What is the way, Kean? The cure the news was talking about?
KEAN:
Yes. The modified MRI machine. Tobie didn't build it to cure the comas; he built it to exploit them. It focuses the unstable radiation from the 289 light-year portal to force a perfect consciousness swap. I am the one who has to use it, Kaye.
A long delay followed. Kaye was processing the blunt, shocking truth.
KAYE:
You. You have to be the one? You can't. That machine is designed to be a cure. How does he turn it into a weapon?
KEAN:
It's not a weapon. It's a key. Because of the 10,794 light year distance of the origin event, the energy is too chaotic for anyone else. But our bond—our "Resonance Signature"—created the only stable channel. Tobie says the magnetic pulse of the MRI, when calibrated to our emotional constant, will force my consciousness to cross the gap.
KAYE:
And the cost? Tell me the cost, Kean. I know what it is.
KEAN:
My alternate self—the one Toshie confirmed is happy with Eunice—will switch into my body in my reality. His soul, now hosting my consciousness, will stabilize, but my soul, now hosting his, will immediately fall into a life-threatening coma.
KAYE:
A life-threatening coma. Kean, no. You saw the picture! You can't sacrifice his life just so we can have a few days. The morality of that is too much. You have to choose your own life!
KEAN:
Tobie promised it can keep my body alive—our body, now—long enough for me to return. And Kaye, I already made my choice.
We looked for the 10,794 km distance, and it led us to Liverpool. That distance represents the ultimate barrier, the ultimate isolation. I won't let us be defined by a distance of years away when we are only supposed to be 289 light-years apart. I need to be with you.
KAYE:
"Kean… I want you so badly, but I'm terrified. Promise me you will not stay. Promise me that no matter how wonderful those few days are, you will save yourself and switch back. You have to come home."
KEAN:
I promise. I will come back. But I will not let this chance pass. Tobie is setting up the machine tonight. He will contact me with the location in a few hours. Get ready, Kaye. I am coming home to you.
Kean is nervously packing a small backpack—just a change of clothes, cash, and his phone charger—in his aunt's Manila unit. The Lityear app is minimized, but the weight of Tobie's upcoming final instructions hangs over him. To cope, he opens his Messenger group chat with his closest friends: Shan, Lawrence, Vince, Keem, and Charles.
KEAN:
Yo guys, just checking in. Been kind of sick lately.
LAWRENCE:
Dude, you sound grim. More "Chronic Radiation Syndrome" symptoms? We all got the headache that day in 2019. Thankfully didn't get too much of that radiation.
VINCE:
Yeah, lay off the coffee, man. You okay?
Kean takes a deep breath, his fingers flying over the keys. This is his final confession.
KEAN:
I'm fine, I'm fine. Just, listen up. If I go radio silent for a bit, or if you guys see me around Lucena doing weirdly wholesome things like smiling at Eunice and asking about her day...
CHARLES:
Wait, hold up. You said Eunice? Dude, are you finally over the heartbreak phase?
KEEM:
Lol, Kean has been secretly working on his character arc.
KEAN:
No, seriously. If I suddenly seem too cheerful, too nice, or I start finishing my school projects way ahead of time... don't worry. It's just temporary.
SHAN:
Temporary what? Are you getting secretly married and going on a long honeymoon?
KEAN:
Something like that. A temporary change of scenery. A temporary personality adjustment. A temporary swap of bodies. You know.
LAWRENCE:
Bro, you need to sleep. You're talking like you're entering a parallel universe.
KEAN:
Kean sends a wide-eyed, slightly panicked emoji.
Look, just promise me this: if you see me acting weird, or if I say anything super out of character, just remember that the real me is fighting for his life, and I'll be back as soon as I can. Okay? It's just... temporary.
VINCE:
Aight, we got you, Kean. We'll remember your highly elaborate joke about being temporarily body-snatched by an alternate self. Get some rest, man. We'll buy you beer when you're back.
KEEM:
Tell 'temporary Kean' not to touch your guitar haha.
KEAN:
I'll tell him. But seriously. Thanks, guys. Gotta go.
Kean logs off the chat, a bitter laugh escaping him. His friends, locked in their single, stable universe, would never understand that he had just said his temporary farewell, cloaked in the darkest joke he could devise. He had spoken the whole truth, and it sounded like a cry for help from a stressed-out gamer.
He minimizes the app. Now, only the dread of the Lityear notification remains.
The familiar noise of Lucena—the barking dogs, the distant sound of traffic, the humid air—slapped Kean in the face. He was back at his family home after Aunt Divine had driven him directly from Manila. The chaos felt crushing after the sterile quiet of the multiverse planning.
Divine gave him a tight hug at the gate. "I'll see you next time, Kean. Get some solid sleep and recover from that migraine. Just tell me if you need something.
Kean forced a smile, grateful for the simple, single-universe stability she represented. "Thanks, Aunt Divine for everything. I will."
He walked into the house, immediately encountering his Aunt Raquela.
"Kean! How was the trip? You look exhausted. How are you holding up?"
"I'm okay, Aunt. I just need some rest now. The trip was a lot."
Aunt Raquela frowned, her hands on her hips, instantly offended by his lack of detail and coldness.
"Okay? That's it? You travel all that way and only say you're 'okay'? You're acting rude, young man. I was worried sick about you!"
Kean didn't have the mental capacity to apologize or invent a suitable lie. He just needed silence.
"I'm sorry, Aunt. I just... need my room."
He retreated quickly, locking the door behind him. He collapsed onto his bed, the weight of the universe, the comatose alternate self, the impending betrayal of Eunice—making his small room feel like a suffocating cage.
"Here we go again," he muttered to himself, listening to the muffled noise of the house. "Back to reality. All these noises around."
His mind raced, unable to settle. He knew the life he was leaving behind was safe and familiar, but his curiosity was a burning ache.
What if mt other self's life is different than mine? he thought, staring at the ceiling. What if my real happiness isn't here, fighting the pain of Eunice and the distance of Kaye, but waiting for me there? What if my real happiness is there?
His phone screen lit up. It was Kaye.
KAYE:
Hey love, you okay? You home right?
KEAN:
Yes, don't worry. I just need rest now. I'll talk to you later.
Kaye's next message showed her sadness, a small, sad emoji accompanied by a single word, before she logged off. Kean had already adopted the cold, distracted tone of a man preparing for war.
Just as Kean put his phone down, a final message from the masked programmer flashed onto his screen.
TOBIE:
Kean. Time to formalize the plan. Let's start Project "Toshie" now. I want you to meet me at my place next week in Laguna. I live in there. Prepare your excuse.
Kean felt a desperate rush—not of fear, but of absolute necessity. The journey was starting.
KEAN:
Copy.
He stared at the screen, the weight of the past two days, the 289 light-years, and the image of Eunice with another Kean fueling his resolve. He was going to Laguna. He was going to risk everything.