I lay in my room juggling stones to keep my hands busy while my mind works. Create life… What does that even mean? How can one create life outside of laying eggs or giving birth? I think it’s Xy’s intention to create life by composing a story. I suppose that is also life… of a sort. But I can’t use his idea. After waiting for him with Drakera Hyver he was quiet. Drawn into himself. My hand slips and one of the stones crashes into the wall.

  “What are you doing in there, Siluastryx?” my mother yells from the kitchen.

  “Nothing.” I start to juggle again.

  “Create life…” I muse.

  I try to think of what the others might do. Try to build a whole world of their own? That feels too daunting a task. It would take eons. I feel like that would only be feasible for me if I remained behind for a sweep, and even that might not be sufficient. Could some of the others do it more easily?

  My first thought was to steal some of our game from a planet here and transport them to a planet in the new galaxy. Our kind has, over the ages, developed the ability to digest meat on top of stone. Over the course of Drake Rov’s life and beyond, they have spent time cultivating ‘hunting worlds’ where our citizens can dive in and devour the local flora and fauna to their heart’s content. I’d done it with my mother once and my father a handful of times, but, call me crazy, I preferred the taste of metal and stone to the odd delicacy of raw meat.

  And on top of not caring much for the hunt or the game, the choice seems too obvious. I’d guess at least half the class will choose to do this, even though it isn’t technically ‘creating’ life. So what does that leave? Create life…

  “Siluastryx, are you hungry?” comes another yell.

  “No,” I shout back, but the thought of food and now the mention of it makes me think better of turning down mom’s layered copper platter with an amethyst crumble topping. “Wait, I’m coming.”

  I set the stones down and roll out of bed. Sauntering into the expansive cavern, the tangy smell of copper gets my mouth watering. “Where did you find the copper?” I wondered. It’s quite common on planets, but the exotic taste of it made it one of the first metals we exhausted in our cluster. There was still some in the outer belt, but with all the drakes roving about it was a dangerous place for a lone drakera.

  “Vely and I flew down to one of the planets to stock up for a bit while you were at school. It’s a planet we found a very long time ago, and one we try to return to as often as possible.”

  “That one with the really strong acid rain? I thought your scales were looking refreshed. I’m glad you two took some time for self-care. Especially after what happened with her son.”

  “Why thank you for noticing,” she says, ignoring the part about Vely’s son. “So what have you been doing alone in your room for so long?”

  “Thinking,” I say as she sets the pan down on the table.

  Before any more words are exchanged, the whole platter is devoured. It is easy to forget how good the copper tastes; we only eat it once or twice a sweep. And the amethyst crumble really works well. But by the dark and by the light this is the best meal I’ve had in ages.

  “Thinking about what?” she asks, opening her mouth to let her flame glands cool down so she doesn’t accidentally spit fire at me.

  “Just my homework assignment. We’re supposed to create life.”

  “Oh, that one…”

  “Wait, what do you mean? Did you have to do it?”

  “I did. But before you ask, I can’t say anything about it. And don’t you go asking around either. This is one of the steps that gets you to shortening your name, which I know you’re eager for. No one, not me or your father or anyone else, is supposed to help you. But that doesn’t mean they’ll listen to the rules. So I’m asking you not to seek help. Will you do that for me?”

  “If you can give me a good reason, I might consider it,” I say.

  “Alright, here’s your reason. We dragons subsist on patterns and customs. But part of the reason we’ve thrived since the dawn of time is ingenuity. We’ve built it into our customs, like this assignment. You’ve been largely sheltered from similar past experiments, both those that have thrived and those that have died, because we want you to think of a creative new way to do things. We need to continue to find creative, new ways to do things. Otherwise we’ll stagnate. And stagnation begets damnation. Is that a good enough reason?”

  I contemplate her words. “I’ll think about it.”

  She lowers her head to look down her long snout at me.

  “Alright, fine, I’ll do it on my own. Now leave me alone, will you?” I blurt, pushing up from the table and stomping back to my room. Just before I reach the threshold I turn and say, “Thanks for supper.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I shut my door and sink back onto my bed, tuning into Psy Dwok’s mind. It’s her turn to be playing music for anyone who might want to listen in. She’s a few asteroids over, so between the distance and the clutter in our minds, sometimes the music doesn’t come through very well. But just now, it’s crystal clear and one of my favorite songs is running through her mind. She greets me, in her own way, acknowledging my entry into the spacious dwelling of her mind, which always reminds me of a white dwarf star: cool, comfortable, calm.

  After the song is over, Psy Dwok gives me a proper greeting and I can tell who else is connected. Close to half the cluster is listening in, including my mother. I can see her staring down her snout at me with disapproval in my mind’s eye, even though we are currently residing in Psy Dwok’s inner consciousness. Must be slow out there. Maybe another star storm. After a short delay, Psy Dwok sits us all down in her dimly lit, cantina-style bar with a stage, and she starts to sing. One of her own original songs, slow with a syncopated beat. A few of the others join her on stage, each bringing their own instrument.

  I try to think more on my problem of creation, but I am drawn into the music for a long while, humming along as I doze in and out of consciousness, lazing away the time in pleasant dreaminess.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  My mother’s comments about not asking for help didn’t have the effect she intended. They made me far more curious about what others had done. But a dragon who doesn’t abide by her oaths has no place among the community and is likely to be exiled alongside the males, hence why my mother was so insistent that I give her mine. I still have half a mind to ask someone, even though keeping secrets has never been a strength of mine.

  When Xy first told me of his fight with his father, he asked me to keep it between us. I told him I wasn’t sure I could, he begged, I promptly told my mother, who told his and it became a whole thing. Xy doesn’t trust me with his secrets anymore. I get it, I do. But do you ever feel like you wish you could be someone else? Not forever, just for a little while. I do. I guess that’s my little secret.

  Create life…

  “How we doing, kid?” Psy Dwok asks, settling into her casual bunched up position beside me.

  I look around and realize it’s just her and me. “Where did everyone…?”

  “Moved on to Psy Hek’s for now. I needed a bit of a break.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

  “Yeah, seems like you have a bit of a conundrum you’re thinking about. Drake trouble?”

  I shake my head. “No, not really.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean you can’t?”

  “I promised my mother I wouldn’t ask for help.”

  “Help with what?” Psy Dwok asks, invested now.

  “My assignment,” I say. “We are supposed to create life.”

  “Oh, right,” Psy Dwok says. She rolls over onto her back. She’s smaller and spryer than most dragons, and in her mind she can do things that the rest of us can only dream. “I remember that assignment. Before you ask, I can’t help.”

  “I know.”

  “But I can tell you this. It’s what my father told me. This isn’t an answer you can seek out. This one must find you.”

  “Find me… What does that even mean?”

  Psy Dwok shrugs and yawns. “You’ll know. When the time comes.”

  “Thanks,” I say, though I’m not feeling very thankful. And honestly, I don’t feel like I should. I think Psy Dwok may have confused me more than I already was. “Well, I guess I’ll head out.”

  “It’s no problem if you stay. One or two people in here won’t make any sort of difference. I just need a nap and a recharge. But if you want to feel some music you’re on your own.”

  I decide to stay. The inside of her mind is much quieter than mine and I find it easier to concentrate, which seems weird to me because I’m still inside my own mind. Or at least, I think I am. These Transtemporal dimensions are quite difficult to master, or so I’m told. They are a rather new discovery and it will be a good, long while before we truly understand them. But there’s no doubting that those who’ve mastered them have become quite the popular drakera over the two score sweeps since their inception.

  As Psy Dwok fades in and out of consciousness, music starts to hum and vibrate around us. When she’s asleep, I am amazed at how she dreams of the music. As if it’s part of her whole being. I don’t even think she realizes she does it. My mother would be mortified to learn I sometimes stuck around in Psy Dwok’s mind while she slept. Among the many dangers we must face in the wide expanse of universes, I feel like Psy Dwok’s dreamscape is one of the least scary places around. Then again, we all have bad dreams sometimes. But thankfully that’s never happened while I’ve been a guest in her Transtemporal.

  I take the time to focus my thoughts and wonder once more. Create life.

  When my mother shakes me awake to tell me that the others are waiting for me to play outside, I am amazed to learn how much time has passed. Sleeping is not something that comes easily to me. But the few times I’ve been left inside Psy Dwok’s Transtemporal, I feel rested, truly rested when I wake. I stretch away my cramped muscles and my wings and step outside.

  Xy is there with a few others from the class. They’re ready to play Claw Tooth Tail, a game that forces us to coordinate not only our mind and our body, but also with our teammates simultaneously. We play two on two at first. After a time it becomes three on three, four on three, four on four. We switch games a couple of times; we switch teams repeatedly. It’s quite pleasant, frolicking through space with my classmates. Jade is even civil and I begin to wonder if perhaps I might, in time, cultivate a friendship with her and some of the others.

  The next few class meetings are uneventful and we get into a rhythm: school, music, play, repeat. My mother’s friends come over and they gossip in the kitchen as they make ‘fireballs,’ rubies encased in white gold, hardened, with an aluminum drizzle. The drizzle is excellent, as always, but fireballs are not my favorite. The next few times I return home from school, my mother’s friends are over again and again, making intricate, tasty recipes, and I wonder if they’re up to something. They must be. Their families join us for meals and then we chat or play word games or, my mother’s favorite, shoot fireworks and watch as they sparkle against the jet black sky.

  But each session of school that passes, each meal, each time I fall asleep in Psy Dwok’s Transtemporal, is that much closer to our approach into the next spiral galaxy. The closer we get, the more the flat, disc-shaped galaxy begins to expand and take shape. Before any of us realize it, the edge of the galaxy has swallowed us whole and we are no longer observing from outside, but in the thick of the starlight. Upon our entry, we are greeted with a stunning comet shower, tiny blue-white specks that explode on our colony’s force net, which protects us from most space debris.

  “Have you come up with an idea for our project yet?” Xy asks.

  We are laying on the outside of his asteroid, staring at the spectacle, which is way better than my mother’s fireworks, though I won’t admit that to anyone. I crane my neck in his direction, catching the next comet’s pop only from the corner of my eye. I shake my head. “You?”

  “I’ve been working on something with Drakera Hyver. I’m not sure it will be ready in time.”

  “I’m sure it will be brilliant, and you know Drake Rov will give you as much time as you need, so long as you’re working,” I say, reaching my tail over to give him consolation. He doesn’t pull away, but I can feel his body stiffen. “Are you alright?”

  “Just… it’s nothing.”

  It’s something, but he doesn’t trust me with it. I think of asking, but then think better on it. “I’ve been wondering where we came from.” Maybe if I tell him one of my secrets, he’ll tell me one of his.

  “You’ve heard Drake Rov,” Xy says. “It’s been too long, and we’ve traveled too far to figure it out.”

  “I know all that, Xy, but that doesn’t mean that we came from nowhere. We had to start somewhere. And I want to know where it is. More specifically, I want to know how we started.”

  “What do you mean how?”

  “How? You know, what came first, the dragon or the egg? Did we evolve, like some of our prey have done? Did we just start out this way? Were we created, just like we are assigned to create? What came before?”

  “I see,” Xy says. “Do you think you can figure it out?”

  “I have no idea. But I can try.”

  He nods appreciatively. “I like that for you. How do you plan to do it?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t figured out my starting point.”

  “When you do, let me know. Maybe I can help you.”

  My throat clutches. I give him a wordless thank you and look back up at the comet shower. His support means more to me than he will ever know.

  I guess I hadn’t realized that my mind came up with that idea on its own. How can I test this theory? I will need to do more than one experiment, won’t I? Or maybe I can start with one and move on from that if I want. I like the sound of that better. So what shall my first experiment be?

  If we evolved, how far back did it start? What if…?

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “What if we go all the way back to the beginning somewhere?”

  “What do you mean the beginning?”

  “I mean… just the most basic form of life. The tiny single-celled organisms.”

  “What do you think that will do?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s worth a shot, right?”

  “Sure, I guess. So what will you do with them?”

  “I don’t know… Send them to a cooling planet. One that has a decent chance of success.”

  “Why don’t you send them to a thousand?”

  “Oh, I like that. A thousand to start. And we’ll see what happens.”

  It gets quiet for a bit, save for the occasional, almost inaudible pop of a comet on the net. I feel better now. I have an idea. I’m not quite sure how I’ll do it. Or where. But I have the beginning of a plan, and that’s better than nothing.