Page 1 of The Alien in the Archive

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The Grand Library of M’mir is justminutesaway.

Back on the orbital station, I could barely see the planet through the swirling lavender and gold clouds. But now, as the space elevator glides down through the atmosphere, the library begins to take shape. Pressing my forehead to the glass, I can’t stop staring. Coral spires and ivy-covered monoliths stretch across the planet’s surface. Floating platforms crisscross between soaring towers, their lights glowing like fireflies. Pools of water glitter in the sunlight, connected by cascading aqueducts.

Even here in the sterile, recycled air of the elevator, I can smell it. Old books, ancient ink…

“Stop leaning against the glass like that,” my brother Riley mutters, his arms crossed tight as he stares at the ceiling. “You’re gonna make me puke.”

“Why? It’s incredible,” I say, refusing to tear my gaze away.

Riley groans. “It’sincrediblethat we’re thousands of feet above the ground in a tin can that could fall at any second.”

I laugh. “This elevator was made by Skoll engineers. I’d trust it over your wobbly legs any day.”

“You’re cruel.”

“You’re fine,” I shoot back, but there’s no heat to it. I grab his shoulder and shake it lightly. “We’re almost to the bottom. And come on—this isn’t worse than that rickety elevator in Vancouver when we shipped out. I swear it was held together with duct tape and prayers.”

Riley rolls his eyes. “That thingscarredme, Page. It’s called trauma. Look it up.”

The elevator glides to a halt, and Riley flinches as if we’ve crash-landed. I bite back another laugh.

“Big baby,” I tease. “You know…for a guy who claims to want to build spaceships, you don’t seem to like flying very much.”

“Fine, I’m a big baby.” He snorts and slips his arm through mine as the golden doors slide open. “So you’d better hang on. Wouldn’t want to get lost in the crowd.”

“Never,” I reply, smiling back.

Then we step into Mythara, the capital city of M’mir…and we start our new lives.

My eyes go wide. The air itself seems to shimmer.

It’s not just the scale of the place—it’s the impossibility of it. Floating platforms glide overhead, staircases unfurl from nowhere, and glowing vines bloom across stone and coral facades. Through towering windows, I glimpse endless bookshelves lit by golden orbs. The ocean stretches out off to our right, the towers and domes of the Nautilum—the Merati archive—under the waves. My lungs fill with the scent of alien spices, fresh flowers, sizzling oil.

I’ve studied this place obsessively: maps, welcome packets, even calls with my fellowship supervisor. But standing here, soles of my Oxfords on the cold marble pathway,I feel like I’m an insignificant speck in the great, big cosmos.

Like I’ve stepped into something ancient. Somethingalive.

Like something is waiting.

“You good?” Riley asks, his voice cutting through my awe.

I take a deep breath, grinning. “Better than ever.”

We start off arm-in-arm through the plaza, my messenger bag bouncing against my hip. I fidget with the edge of the gold translator draped over my ear, eager to test it out. More than two thousand languages are spoken in Mythara, and I’ve been uploading new dictionaries for weeks. It’s not the most expensive model, but hopefully it will do the trick.

“Stop messing with it or you’ll break it before you even get to use it—and those cost us a pretty penny,” Riley chides.

“I know, I just…I don’t want to miss a word,” I tell him. “The lag already makes me feel like a tourist.”

“Look around, Page,” he says, gesturing with his free hand. “Everyonehere is a tourist.”

He’s right; I’ve already caught sight of at least ten different species, some that I’ve never even seen before. And besides…

…you don’t necessarily need a translator when you’re in people’s heads.

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