Carol Ann Witschi

Mind Lockers

Magnus stuffed the last bit of clothing into Maiken’s pack, pushing her downward as he did. “Se det!” she yelled, “trying to hobble me before I leave?” He smirked. His sister was stronger and bigger than most men. She was bred for this mission, among other things. “Ok Mai, you have smoked hare, millet, squash seeds and a couple of protein envelopes that I was able to sneak off campus. I’m giving you snares, paracord, fishing filament, my cold fire kit and, well, you know the rest. Remember to always have ice in your helmet and breastplates. Even in sub-zero temperatures your heat signature can be detected. Move only at night and whatever you do, do not burn anything. The days will only last several hours so rest and hide when it’s light.” She fingered the frayed edge of her traditional Faroese sweater, a relic from normal times. They had been planning this mission for years, waiting for winter and a break in the harvesting schedule so she could slip away without being immediately missed. “And now,” he said, “the most important item.” He held up a thin chain and clasped it around her neck. Her hand instinctively went up to clutch the familiar shape. She and her twin had been refining their father’s technology for decades. Magnus retrieved an identical piece from his pocket, and they both began to hum. Each heart-shaped locket was irrationally light for its size. Niobium, he told her, with a little titanium and zirconium. The guts of the lockets were far beyond her comprehension, liquid metals, coils of fiberoptics, crystalized plasmas and elements that didn’t exist on the periodic table she learned. When she rolled it around, she could both hear and feel a certain gyroscopic sloshiness.