In the mighty CoPet Corporation’s boardroom, an island nation’s wealthiest men pack in around a long conference table. They are the rulers of Jopond’s ancient families that have dominated this land since it breached the sea. Some sit, reading and writing messages on their phones. Others try to relax, looking out through the wide panoramic windows at their city. On this March morning, the sky is blue, and the air outside is finally warming. But the first signs of spring are unnoticed by the oligarchs because yesterday, hell broke loose, and in the form of an earthquake. The earthquake rattled everyone’s finances and shook each of their corporations to their foundations but CoPet’s was hit the hardest. CoPet’s stability, so you understand, is critical to the health of their economy. But at the moment all seemed lost, something unexpected happened. So, being the true controllers of society, they gather together, right here, to make sense of a miracle and decide what to do next.

Masks conceal each of their faces. The old mens’ masks must be worn as they sit around the boat-shaped table. One mask carved from wood stares at another mask that resembles the face of a bear. A voice speaks with impatience, “When will we know more about this girl Satomi?”

The spirit of bears, growls, “As soon as she arrives.”

The wrinkly-skinned tycoon of countless industries says, from behind a glossy wooden mask, “It is hard to believe what I’ve been told she did.”

Another mask made with real human facial hair says, “It is hard to believe. But what if it is the truth?” Some old men curl their thin lips in response and shout their opposition to an outsider, especially a girl, being invited to sit at their table.

Everyone is silenced when the mask with swollen cheeks whispers, “I am indebted to her. My family is indebted.” The eyes behind the masks look at each other through pinholes and voices murmur about the uncharacteristic gullibility of the wind spirit. After a pause, their screamversations revolve back to the credibility of the information regarding Satomi. Suddenly, the only door in the boardroom swings open.

The president of CoPet enters, behind him is a tall man arm in arm with a hunched-back figure. The hunched-back person’s features are hidden under long black hair and a blanket. It’s Satomi. She is helped into her seat by the tall man in dirty jeans and wearing steel-toed work boots.

“Are those really wings on her back?” asks the bird-of-prey mask. The billionaire on the edge of his seat doesn’t answer.

The president of CoPet calls his peers to attention. He shouts, “Banzai!” Everyone leaps from their chairs and shouts, “Banzai,” in unison. They stand together, waving their hands up and down and roaring in confused excitement because this is the young lady everyone says did the impossible. So, they continue cheering even after their arms go numb and their voices are hoarse.

Finally, they settle down as the masked president of CoPet, takes his bodyweight off his handmade lizard-leather dress shoes and sits. He waves his fellow clan elders back to their seats. “Brothers. This is Satomi Nakamoto.”

The kid’s face is bruised, and her left eye is swollen shut. A blanket towers above her head to conceal her wings.

“Satomi, we welcome you,” muffles the president of CoPet from behind unmoving red lips. The mask has two dots painted black for eyes. These unblinking orbs look at Satomi’s only eye with an unfocused gaze and asks, “How are you feeling?”

“My back hurts. Can I get a better chair? It’s uncomfortable with these things,” Satomi answers. Her blanket slowly expands and then contracts as the wings spread outward and then inward.

President Masatoshi waves his index finger in the air to summon his aid. A single body with long legs rockets off from the row of staff wearing two-piece suits. “Bring Satomi San a stool.” President Masatoshi then turns to Satomi and asks, “Would you like anything else?”

Satomi replies, “No.”

“I hope your flight and ride here were more accommodating?” President Masatoshi asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” says the young woman.

“You were informed of why you were called.”

Satomi slowly closes her right eye. Her head wobbles, and the men watch her struggling to repel a lingering yawn. “As you have heard, the Mama Lizard’s eggs at Fukushami burrow one were contained because of you. We must know how you did it. You saved the lives of countless people for generations to come. How did you cool the burrows?”

Satomi takes a deep breath and sighs. “It’s hard to explain. I mean, you can call it luck, or maybe stupidity. You can name it what you want. But, somehow, I knew all along I had a reason for being the way I am, for being a creative. And because of that I just happened to look at the problem, you all created, differently compared to everyone else. That’s how I cooled it.”

The aid delivers the stool to Satomi. Satomi sits and faces the old man behind the mask. Without expression, the mask looks at Satomi. “For your sacrifice, for your brilliant solution to cool the burrows, we will give you anything you want. But first, we must hear your account of what happened. We must hear your account before the representative of the Chrysanthemum clan arrives. He’s due within the hour to approve whatever it is you desire as your recompense.”

“Where do you want me to start? From when I went into the burrow and changed into this?” Satomi flexes her raven-like wings in a loud burst as everyone hits the floor in fear. Everyone pokes their eyes above the table to gaze upon her massive wings in the morning light. The man with a yellow lightning bolt tattooed on his neck, who had escorted her to her seat, was now covering her in the blanket.

“And went blind?” A single black feather floats from the ceiling into a glass of water, as the masked men return to their seats.

President Masatoshi's jaw closes as calmness resumes in his boardroom. He says, “We don't understand your sacrifice. That's why we are asking you to explain what happened, every detail. Starting yesterday.”

“I'll start at the beginning. I’ll start when I woke up.”

“Yes, please.”

“It was dark. I was unable to move my body. There was one of those damn things near me in my room.”

“For our records, can you identify ‘those damn things,’” the mask with black dots for eyes asks.

“The Lizard Children.”

“And Lizard Children are …?”

“What we protect the public from. They’re spirits with massive amounts of energy stored in them. CoPet harnesses their energy by making them spin wheels, distributed throughout Fukushami and the rest of our country. They’re how we generate electricity to power our society. People far smarter than me can give you a better answer. All I know is: after that tsunami, I think any claim that says Lizard Children are the safest method of producing electricity is a lie. What do you think?”

“Very good Satomi. So, there was a lizard creature in your room?” President Masatoshi ignores her question, as did the other elites.

“Yes. I had a nightmare. But I didn’t know at the time that it wasn’t real. I could feel the lizard creature about to enter my body. It was on top of me. I couldn’t breathe with it on top of me. I had no control over my body. It was terrifying. But this fear was familiar. The memory of the feeling kicked off the idea in my sleepy mind that I may be having another nightmare. I had been having the nightmares, and the only way I had found, from experience, to wake myself up was to scream. Somehow, my voice box was the only thing I could control when having a lizard creature nightmare. I thought that only having the power over my screaming was for some primordial reason. Maybe the connection between the brain and the voice box is thicker and more direct than other parts of my body? I don't know. All I know is when I feel a lizard creature on top of my chest, I can’t gain power over my body except for my voice, and that morning was no different.

So, I screamed myself awake just as 4:30 arrived. I knew it was 4:30 because my alarm went off. I was so disoriented that, I lay there for a moment. Then, I realized that loud noise could be silenced with a tap. So, I pulled myself outa my sleep paralysis and hit the snooze button like it was my coworker Hirotami’s or Genta’s face. Well not that hard, because I knew I had to have the alarm working on Monday morning. The snooze alarm went off a couple more times until I emerged from my warm cocoon blanket. I was basically awake once my feet were on the floor. I reminded myself that it was Friday, so that cheered me up a li’l bit. But before I got too excited, I also told myself that just because it was Friday, it didn’t mean my day wouldn’t be dangerous. I accepted this reality, despite wanting to lie back down for another minute. But to avoid being homeless again, I pushed myself off the bed, walked to the light switch, flicked it, and looked up at the bulb. Photons wake up the brain quicker than a cup of coffee – random fact.”

“Interesting,” a voice from behind the white mask with two black eyes mutters as President Masatoshi realizes there’s truth to Satomi’s statement.

The girl with a swollen left eye continues, “My day had started. It was just me, alone in my apartment at that early hour. That time of day is my favorite. It’s the quiet that I appreciate. It’s a gift, really, those moments when the world is out there, but I’m isolated in my own world. I sat on my couch and all the chaos of the world was gone; well, not gone, but the chaos was distant. That’s what peace is, just distance from chaos.”

“That statement makes sense after what happened yesterday but excuse my interruption. Please continue,” President Masatoshi says, as the clan elders comment to each other about this female squire and her overly maudlin self.

“I wrapped myself in my camel-hair blanket. It’s so coarse. My parents got it for me. I had to use it supposedly, according to my Dad, to teach me his ideas of comfort. Who knew, camel hair on bare skin is one way to do it? My Dad’s weird like that, weirder than me. But he was right. It’s really nice. Comfort can come from the uncomfortable. Anyway, yesterday morning was no different than any other. I hopped on my phone and waited until I was more awake by browsing online. That morning, the first thing I saw on my news feed was a post from Hirotami.”

“Who is Hirotami,” President Masatoshi asks.

“He’s a squire who is gonna get his fourth dent on his armor's shoulder pad soon. Anyway, his post popped up right at the top of my news feed. I wasn’t happy to see anything related to that ass, especially at that hour. Thanks, Facebook.”

“Hirotami. That’s because you don’t like him?” the mask with huge red lips and unblinking eyes asks.

“I’ll tell you exactly what I think about him and why. So, I saw his post. Unfortunately, I also become aware of how 499 people liked his post and over 200 conversations were generated from people who clearly have little insignificant lives because they’re unfazed by what a piece of shit he is… or was at that time.”

“So, you were angry to see his popularity? You closed out of the screen, I presume?”

“No. I clicked on his video and watched him wrestling a buddy of his somewhere in someone’s living room. I had to see who the imbeciles were that had commented, so I also opened the conversations. Right at the top, of course, was none other than Genta.”

“Genta?”

“Genta is a four-dent squire. He's gonna be a Green Knight soon. So, his comment said, ‘LOL, Hirotami looks like a bitch getting worked by Daizo!’ I really, really hated Genta at that time, even more than Hirotami. After reading Genta’s comment, I threw my phone on my chabudai, which was right in front of me. That’s when things started to get strange. The phone flew outa my hand and swerved into the kitchen and hit my newest flower. I had been growing that flower for years. I had the highest hopes for that one. That one being the one that I fantasized about repeatedly for bringing me recognition as a world-famous flower grower. But no. My phone crashed into the vase and cracked it, and I heard the vase fall. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even throw my phone that hard. Also, when I threw the phone, it wasn’t targeted in the direction of the vase. Clearly, my coordination was off from being in bed the previous eight hours.

I got up, raced into the kitchen, and saw the damage. I was shocked. My flower was crushed. I had no time to comprehend the loss because I had to go to work soon. I accepted the truth that my flower was dead. I told myself it was probably for the best. I told myself this was a sign to finally abandon my whacky dream of being the greatest flower grower of all time. It was time to commit to the squireship. I cleaned up the mess and brushed my flower into the trash. That was the last time I’d ever see that flower, or so I thought.

I boiled tea in the teapot. I sat, drank my tea, and ate some breakfast. Once I finished, I barely had enough time left to grab the trash. I dressed in my winter coat and left my little temple of peace. After eleven steps down the walkway, I turned around and ran back up to the door. I turned the knob and pushed four times to make sure the door was locked. I do this often. I have OCD. It’s diagnosed.”

“After checking your lock, what did you do?” the CoPet president asks.

“Dropped the trash bag in the can and got in my car, then raced off to the train station. I parked, walked five minutes, and joined the crowd waiting for the next inbound train. My timing was good, and within a minute the train arrived. Out of the half dozen or so cars that spanned the platform, I picked the train car I thought the three wouldn’t be in.”

“Please name the three.”

“Hirotami, Genta, and Akinari. I picked the wrong car. There they were, sitting in the car I chose. They got to sit because they’re high-dent count squires at CoPet, and the public is always quick to give up their seats for squires. First thing out of Genta’s mouth was bullshit. ‘You still work here?’ Genta asked. Once Genta kicked off the mean remark, the two others joined in.

Hirotami added, ‘No. Satomi’s last day is today.’ The passengers that weren’t sleeping glanced at me. Out of respect, they hid their giggles.

I said, ‘Yeah, because I’ve done a career’s worth of work in two years picking up the slack for you three assholes.’

‘What did I do Satomi? You’re already bitching like a woman!’ Akinari said in a deep voice, with his eyes and thumbs on his smartphone. Hirotami threw a piece of paper at Akinari’s face and said, ‘Don’t talk to a lady like that!’ In between the two clowns sat a bearded man who was trying to read his cartoon magazine about a barely pubescent blue-haired girl who, for some unknown reason, is depicted nude in a shower. Akinari stopped playing his puzzle game and reached over the stranger with the beard and hit Hirotami. I decided to squeeze into the crowd as the three of them created another scene.