Mom, I'm heading to the archery range. Need anything from the supermarket?"
"Arin, before you go, can you take the trash bin to the street? And we're almost out of bread—pick some up when you get back."
"Okay, Mom. Will do."
Arin hopped on his bike and started the familiar ride toward the archery range. As he pedaled, he glanced back at his house, nestled between endless stretches of farmland and the occasional scattered home.
When he arrived at the range, a warm chorus of greetings met him from those already practicing.
"Hey, Arin! Here again to train for the summer tournament?" Tom called out. "Why even bother? You're going to win anyway, right?"
"I'm not so sure," Arin replied. "This summer I finally turn eighteen, so I'm allowed to compete with the adults. And that means you and I can compete again—assuming you don't run off like last time."
Tom's face drained of color, and the rest of the group burst into laughter.
"He got you there, Tom," someone chimed in. "You sprint out of here like the wind whenever he challenges you!"
"Oh, please," Bill shot back. "You run even faster!"
"Alright, boys, don't be so hard on each other," Bertho said, chuckling. "We all know Arin's a special one—talented as they come. I can't wait for him to compete this summer, just to see the looks on the faces of those old fools in Clanton. Blocking our expansion because, according to them, we're 'not important enough' to justify the cost. Bastards."
"You know the only reason they fight us on everything," another added, "is because they want to turn this place into their precious country club."
And honestly, it wasn't hard to imagine—this archery club sat deep in the forest, built right on a lake. Perfect country-club material.
"Hey, it's not our fault their grandparents bent over backward for the Germans when they invaded," someone muttered, "while ours fought back. That's why we own these forests, and they just sit in their ivory towers complaining."
"Let it go, Arwin," Bertho said. "We can't do anything about them anyway. Besides… have you heard those strange reports scientists are talking about on the news? Something about a weird wave spreading out from the point they think the Big Bang originated. What do you think that is?"
"I don't know," Arin said thoughtfully. "You think it could be something like in those stories? Like a spiritual awakening or something like that?"
"Oh, give it up, Arwin," Bertho snorted. "There you go again with your fantasies. If something like that ever happens, I'll eat my hat. It's probably just another solar flare."
"You're probably right, Bertho," Arin sighed. "But a man can dream, right? Everything is so boring lately—we could use some excitement."
"Now, now, Arin," Tom added. "Just because you have to redo your last year of high school after failing French and German doesn't mean you should wish the end of the world on the rest of us."
"Okay, okay, I won't do it again," Arin said with a laugh. "So… how about we start training for our own club's tournament?"
The archery club had always been more than a hobby. It was an inheritance from their great-grandfathers, who had been awarded the forest and lake by the government after—armed only with bows and arrows—they helped hold off a German infantry regiment during the war. To honor that legacy, the club held an annual tournament in which members wore traditional hunting cloaks to blend into the forest, heavy leather armor, and used simple wooden arrows tipped with rubber-filled lead. Non-lethal, but if you got hit… You felt it. Especially with the tournament bows pulling a full seventy pounds.
As Arin stepped into the forest, a quiet settled over him. Every year, it was the same—he came alive the deeper he walked. It was as if the trees themselves welcomed him. Step by step he moved farther in, until he simply vanished among the trunks and shadows, blending into the forest like he was part of it.
"Ahh, I hate it when he does that," Tom muttered. "It was bad enough when we were kids playing hide-and-seek. Now he has a bow—we are so going to lose this tournament."
"Oh, it can't be that bad," Bertho said—though not very convincingly.
"That's because you've never gone against him," Tom shot back. "He learned way too much from our parents."
And right on cue, the two older archers slipped into the trees and vanished just as silently.
It was quiet in the forest as Bill crept across the leaf-covered ground, scanning for danger. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement. Before he could react— thunk! —an arrow struck him in the side.
"Damn it, that hurt!" he groaned. "I hope that wasn't Tom…"
Raising his hands, he signaled he was out and began walking back toward the clubhouse.
On the way, he ran into Tom and Bertho—both walking with their hands raised.
"Let me guess," Bill asked. "Did Arin get you too?"
"No, they got each other," a voice answered from behind.
"Ah! Stop sneaking up on me!" Bill yelped. "But wait— they got each other? That's hilarious!"
"Shut up," Tom and Bertho said at the same time, which only made Bill laugh harder.
"Ahh, I haven't laughed like that in ages," Bill said, rubbing his sore side. "But let's get back to the clubhouse. We need ointments for these bruises—they're going to hurt tomorrow."
"Did you have to hit me in the side?" he asked Arin with a glare as they walked.
"Sorry," Arin said with an awkward smile.
Far above the peaceful forest, something else was happening.
The strange cosmic wave the scientists had detected finally reached the solar system.
Beep…
Sapient life detected. Initiating planetary-system awakening. Connecting Earth to the Universal Network.
System online.
Dominant race detected: Humans.
Binding to host species… 1%… 25%… 100%. Binding complete.
Initiating human-race awakening.
"