First Contact
A short story set in the Integration era.
©2026, by Charlie Forêt, all rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Cover Photo: ©2026, by Charlie Forêt
Ebook ISBN: 979-8-9985516-9-7
Part One
Before tonight, my Flux reading had moved exactly once in four years. At the worst possible moment. In front of people. I had spent every day since deciding whether that counted as evidence or a warning.
Opening my overlay was a nervous habit. It wasn't like it changed. It probably had that one time, but I'd not been watching it then.
[Flux: 12. Flagged. Reassess upon measurable engagement.]
Everything else was mediocre; average according to the experts.
Below average, according to the pretty people.
That isn't really fair. They didn't think they were pretty, just better. The jocks and brains of the school who walked around flashing their stats to anyone who asked.
Frame and Drive were what they cared about. Lattice was a good fallback if you weren't athletic. What good is Echo or Flux in school?
I closed the overlay.
Measurable engagement.
That line stuck with me.
Freshman year I made the team. Inter-school playoff against Kincaid High. We were up one–nil with seven minutes left when the cross came in and I was where I was supposed to be, center back, between the striker and our keeper, marking the run.
The overlay flickered. Flux. Half a second.
I have replayed it enough times that the half second is now the only part I see clearly. The ball came off the cross at an angle no one was reading. Including me. My foot was where it needed to be for the clear. The contact wasn't. I redirected the ball into our own net at a velocity my Frame couldn't have produced on its own.
That's what Flux is. Variance. Most people read the word and think upside: anomalous, flagged, special. The system doesn't care which way the variance points. Mine pointed at our keeper.
The whole field saw it. Nev was in the stands. Harko was on the bench beside me when I came off, and I think now that he was the only person in the stadium who didn't say anything. I haven't stepped on a pitch since.
I shook my head and glanced around the room. Kids grouped in cliques as they had for centuries. One cluster hoped to avoid attention and just make it through lunch. Another table held the local Purist crew. They were the farthest they could be from the jocks and high-stat crowd. The two poles of our social strata, made visible in a cafeteria.
I'd reject it if I could. The Integration hasn't done me any favors.
No chance of that. Mom and Dad were in the colony administration. They couldn't have a son who rejected the Integration.
Such a scandal that would cause.
Generally, I liked my folks.
Harko dropped into the seat next to me.
"I was saving that for Nev."
He shook his head, then pulled out his handheld. "I need to review my notes. I've got a test next period."
"Okay, but I need to ask you something, before she gets here."
That got his attention. His thumb stopped tapping his device. He looked at me.
"You don't want to spring it on her." It was a flat statement, not a question.
"Okay. Do you know what I want to say?"
He shook his head. "No, I meant you don't want to surprise her, so you're sounding me out first. What is it? I need to study."
He pulled his handheld closer and started thumbing through notes. His aunt would have something to say about a failed test, and Harko had decided long ago that the easier option was to not fail them.
"There's a Class 2 rift three klicks outside the perimeter."
He went still. The handheld stopped.
"Survey data is on Mom's tablet. I've read everything I can find on Flux affinity in proximity to active rifts. Get close enough to a live one and the system has to register it."
Then I'd know.
"What do you think?"
"That you're stupid. Do you have a death wish? Nothing good will come from going there. Nev likes you as you are. You don't have to prove anything to her."
"What do you mean…" Nev arrived before I could finish my question. Harko's face went blank, just like on the bench four years ago.
She arched an eyebrow at the two of us, jerked her head to one side, and proceeded to sit next to me, opposite from Harko, assuming we would squeeze together to make room for her.
She wasn't wrong. I did like the feel of her pushing against me.
I like her. Why can't I just say that?
"Any plans for the weekend?" she asked as Harko lifted his head and glanced toward the doorway.
Before I could answer three senior classmates strutted into the room, chests puffed out, as if daring anyone to impede them. They were still in their sweat-soaked shirts, shorts, shin guards, and soft cleat shoes, grinning.
Soccer.
"Ladies and gentlemen," their leader called, quieting the room. He concentrated, and my overlay flared with an invitation to receive his share. As much as I hated the primping and puffery, I couldn't resist.
[Frame: 14 → 16.]
And the strong get stronger, the pretty get prettier.
I closed the overlay while his friends congratulated him and everyone else avoided making eye contact.
"Let's get out of here," Nev said, rising.
Harko closed his handheld. "Yeah, we're not cool enough or interesting enough to hang out here. Not yet, anyway."
I rose with them, heading to the door.
For Harko, yet was fine. Four years of yet wasn't working for me.
Reassess upon measurable engagement.
It was quieter in the hallway, but we kept walking in the general direction of our next classes.
"So? Plans?" Nev asked.
"Meaningful engagement," I said without thought.
"Huh?" Harko always did have a way with words.
"Can't you form a complete sentence once in a while, Harko?" Nev asked.
"Nope."
She turned on me. "What's that mean, Kes? Exactly what kind of meaningful engagement do you have? With whom?"
There was a little ire in her voice.
"Yet." I paused, marshaling my words. "Harko said it. We aren't interesting enough, yet. I want to change that."
Nev's cheeks puffed out, then she exhaled. "Just what dumb-assed stunt do you think we're going to help you with to make us 'interesting'?"
I'd been thinking about it for eight weeks, ever since seeing the report on Mom's tablet. "There's a rift outside the perimeter. Only a few klicks away."
"It's a class two rift. The militia trains in those. Nothing too dangerous."
Nev's face went still, her pupils widened. The corners of her mouth pulled inward, held rather than relaxed. Her smile, one of the things that always helped me relax, was missing.
Harko was shaking his head.
