I wonder how long it would take to reach the bottom? Lawrence thought as he stared at his feet, the floor underneath him translucent exposing the large drop of the council chambers. The praise coming from his ruler, Alban Roiler, standing next to him, turned into incoherent mumbling as his attention wandered. Looking at all the oldest and most influential nobles of Gold, Lawrence could not stifle his envy even though they were all there to celebrate his accomplishment. The white and yellow specs of light glistening from the gold metal pins on their shirts and jackets made his eyes moisten. Lawrence rubbed his chest, feeling the scar tissue underneath his plain long sleeve shirt. He thought of his scar as a mark of shame for his inability to truly become a societal member of Gold.

     “…The pursuit of all the rulers and citizens of Gold is to avoid conflict using any other means than the abilities gifted to us by our mother star, Annabelle. We have just taken a tremendous leap in that pursuit with a member of our respected Lem community, Lawrence Courdain.” Even in praise my classification as a Lem has to be illuminated, Lawrence thought.

     Alban continued, “Every star’s congregation was vulnerable to the mounted projectiles of Gray’s ships. With Lawrence’s invention, we can now use Annabelle’s power to create a membrane around our congregation, turning any comet, asteroid, or weapon into nothingness moons away from our city.” The whole chamber applauded.

     “Lawrence. Please stand.” Lawrence obeyed. On his feet he could see the countless members of the audience in the red and gold seating mezzanines surrounding the great hall. Suddenly, his cynicism transformed into nervousness. Alban shouted, “I present you the highest accolade possible for anyone on Gold to obtain, the Solid White Heart, specially designed for you.” Alban pinned a medal onto the left side of Lawrence’s chest. Lawrence saw that it was identical to the pins he admired a moment ago, only his was white. An involuntary emotional gasp escaped his mouth. His eyes moistened at the sight of the medal, which emitted no light.

     “We are unaware of the identity of your mother and father. If you will accept Lawrence, I will take that place, and serve as your loyal guardian and advisor.” The involuntary gasps increased in frequency, but Lawrence was able to suppress them, the same could not be said for his tears. Alban stared at Lawrence, waiting for a response. Lawrence quietly muttered, “I accept.” The audience gave a standing ovation. As Lawrence gazed upon the individuals who he thought were judging him, and felt the hand of his adoptive father on his shoulder, he realized the only one who questioned his place in the congregation of Gold was himself.

     Lawrence waited in a hallway outside the council chambers. Passerbys lowered their heads and cupped his cheek as they passed, whispering “Prince Roiler.” Annabelle is exceptionally cruel if this is only a dream Lawrence thought. He looked out a window to observe his mother star. A hard globe of made of a material unknown by Lawrence surrounded Annabelle. He could see the long tunnel extending from the globe that connected the city to its provider. There was never a day that Annabelle did not cover three-fourths of Lawrence’s view of space, but today he appreciated his mother, something he never had done before. His gaze was interrupted by Alban. “Are you still upset at her?” Lawrence turned to see Alban standing next to his polite looking firstborn son and now brother, Abraham Roiler. Instinctively Lawrence's eyes landed on the shining speck of light on his chest pin. “Even if she did not want me as a son, her children have provided more opportunities than anyone deserves.” Alban and Abraham looked satisfied with that response.

     Alban pressed a disguised button on the ornamented column behind Lawrence. The walls separated to show a large room. How many hidden chambers are in this tower? Lawrence thought to himself. “Enter brother,” said Abraham. The three entered the room. Inside was Lawrence’s idea of heaven: a desk equipped with the finest fabrication tools available connected to a battery powered directly from Annabelle, the largest bed he’d ever seen, a closet full of white and gold robes identical to those lords wore, and an entire wall made of glass with a clear view of the upper right quadrant of Annabelle, the entire city, and the white lights of space.

     “You made your contribution under no one’s command, so we will let you use our facilities and tools however you see fit,” said Alban. “Which makes me very envious of you Lawrence,” Abraham playfully followed. Lawrence could only mutter, “…Far..too kind.” Abraham replied, “If you take into consideration where we would be without you, father and I have been exceptionally rude.” “If it pleases you…father…could I return to my old room to move my belongings.” Alban looked dumbfounded as he responded, “This is your room, not a prison cell. Do as you please son.” As grateful as Lawrence was, calling Alban father and hearing the word son come out of his mouth made him uncomfortable. “Thank you,” he replied. “I’ll go with him,” exclaimed Abraham. Alban nodded and left the room, the back of his long robe scraping across the floor.

* * *

     As Lawrence and Abraham stepped outside, shouts of “Prince Roiler!” echoed from the crowds of citizens. The great crystal and gold promenade leading to the Reflective Tower was filled with nobles, workers, and Lems, all united in their praise of Lawrence. Abraham whispered, “quite a feat you accomplished Lawrence.” “My popularity certainly seems contagious,” Lawrence replied. “No, not the people…that.” Abraham pointed at the sky. The retreating ships from Gray were still visible after 20 revolutions. How massive are those vessels? Lawrence thought. “I do believe that is the first time a fleet from Gray ever retreated if history serves me right.” That’s not true, thought Lawrence. Armies from Gray retreated during The Violet Uprising on two separate occasions.

    “My father would never say this, but Annabelle made an error refusing your heart. You have already accomplished more in a quarter of a life span of a Lem than most Golden children ever will.” Just as Abraham said that, Lawrence caught a glance of a celebratory Lem nearing death, face wrinkled and limbs heavy. The moment when Lawrence would see the first mark of aging on his skin filled him with dread. Every golden child looked the same with smooth skin and vibrant hair. Abraham and Alban were practically indistinguishable. Lawrence knew that Abraham lived for at least 500 rotations and counting. Without knowing the age of Alban when he discovered Annabelle, Lawrence could not calculate how many rotations he experienced, and the king made it a point to keep that figure hidden. Never has a Lem lived past one-third of a single rotation.

     “Imagine how impressive your gifts to Gold would be if your first one was life.” Lawrence noticed Abraham looking solemn as he gazed at Grey’s ships. Behind them were the expanding dust clouds from stars that were too slow or unwilling to adopt Lawrence’s shield technology. “I’m sure you will do your best with the time you have left.” When Lawrence was young, the constant mentioning of the limited mortality of Lems offended him. After calculating the average number of Lems a star child sees birthed and die in their lifetime, he immediately understood why they spoke with little sensitivity. The medal on his chest indicated that his death might be a more important occasion. They walked out of the promenade into the main metropolis.

     “We were very close to operating out of true fear,” said Abraham. “Well. Annabelle’s children are the only ones in the constellation who refuse to use their abilities,” replied Lawrence. He was surprised to see that statement elicit a smirk from Abraham. “I have not used my ability once in my lifetime. I wonder if I ever will before Annabelle goes to rest. The law that prevented us from ever using our abilities turned into never mentioning what they accomplish. So maybe we already are operating out of fear.” Abraham sounded very disdainful while saying that.

     Lawrence lived in one of the schools on Gold, a white and yellow dome filled with Golden children at varying ages. It took at least 100 rotations to complete an education on Gold, so most Lems did not even attend even though they were welcome. Lawrence was currently enrolled, but he wondered if he we would be able to continue class with his new title.

     Lawrence walked into the dome and saw a group of students learning. The instructor, Geila Proca, was a stunningly gorgeous woman with bright blue eyes and short white hair. Before today, she was the closest thing Lawrence had to a parent. Her golden pin was shining brighter than everyone else’s it seemed. She was the only one to notice Abraham and Lawrence enter, and she gave them a smirk before continuing her lesson. “Let me switch topics to the Gray star,” she said. The students shifted in their seats nervously. Geila continued confidently. “Why are they so formidable in combat. What’s their ability?” No one responded. She proceeded to hint at the answer. “It’s common for people to say you should never do what with a Gray child? A voice in the crowd said “shake hands.” “That’s right, and that is because a gray child can always close their hands into a fist, no matter what is in their palm. That is the gift given to them by their star…so after Violet dissipated an infinite number of rotations ago. Grey became the most feared star congregation in our constellation.”

     Another voice coming from the students asked, “Why? They would have to get right next to you to use their power.” “Good question,” Geila responded. “How could they be so powerful? …With the ability to close their hands no matter what, they developed massive spear launching weapons set at impossibly high tensions. Their triggers would feel like immovable stones to you and I, but their star children can fire them easily. So they could transform an entire congregation into ashes from an incredibly far distance.” “I don’t remember class being so morbid,” whispered Abraham into Lawrence’s ear. “But now thanks to the man standing behind you,” continued Geila. “There is nothing the fleets of Gray can do except retreat.” The students turned and started applauding at Lawrence. Lawrence looked at Geila and shook his head with a smile, Geila only laughed.

* * *

     Lawrence thought he would have to carry his belongings from the school to the Reflective Tower himself, but the students were so happy to see him they offered to help. Abraham went with the students to guide them, leaving Geila and Lawrence alone to talk. A nervous looking Lem presented the two with water and nervously whispered, “For you Prince Roiler.” He desperately wanted to tell her to call him Lawrence and shed her nervousness, but she left as soon as the drinks were set.

     “You’ve accepted royalty rather well. It seemed that you were always unhappy with us Golden children,” said Geila. “I was envious as every Lem is. We will never see all of Annabelle’s faces, and you get to live as long as she does. Who wouldn’t be a little green-eyed?” “Be thankful,” Geila responded. “Stories of how other congregations treat their Lems rob me of rest frequently. You and Abraham walked here by yourselves with no guards or protection. Do you know how rare that is for a congregation?” It is true, thought Lawrence. When a piece of a mother star refuses to bond with a baby’s heart, the parents of the child usually try to put them onto an artificial comet aimed towards Gold, if the procedure did not already kill them. Lawrence was one of these comet children. Here they accepted Lems with open arms, and provided them with ample opportunities. Other congregations like Grey and Red used them primarily as slaves.

     Geila continued, “Us Golden children will stare at death as well, in a more horrific manner no less…A congregation who’s mother is approaching rest is a very chaotic and ugly sight to see.” Geila gave a haunted look as she said that. She changed the mood by saying, “Leith built the technology that enables cities to float right next to stars long ago…I believe I am staring at him reincarnated at this very moment, in a more effective iteration as you accomplished a feat of equal difficulty in about one-one thousandth of the time.” Lawrence responded, “Leith was one of the most creative and talented technical minds that’s ever lived. I should strike you for comparing him to me.” Geila immediately replied, “He died a myth, and you will be immortalized forever. And I don’t think you two are very different, nor gifted with special brains. I believe men like you simply worked when others did not.”

     Lawrence smiled at that. He was unsure whether his new position in the Reflective Tower or his teacher’s compliment was more rewarding. “I should go,” Lawrence said, and he quietly made his exit as Geila nodded with a smile.

     Outside, Lawrence saw Abraham carrying the last of Lawrence’s things. A voice behind him angrily muttered, ”You are not one of them, and you are no longer one of us.” Lawrence turned around. A young bearded Lem with red eyes was walking backwards away from Lawrence, staring directly at him. Lawrence blinked and the figure was gone. He looked around to see if anyone else noticed him. Everyone was going about their normal business.

* * *

     In his new room now filled with his old equipment, Lawrence wasted no time starting his next project. On his desk laid a device he once believed could make a piece of star bond with a Lem’s heart. He tried it once, and it only made his mark of shame grow. With his new status, Lawrence finally rediscovered the confidence to continue his endeavor. I’m only here for a blink of an eye. What’s it matter if I die during the closing or opening of the lid?

     A knock at the door echoed through the room. Lawrence opened it to reveal Abraham. He calmly walked in and admired Lawrence’s invention in progress. “What is that?” he asked. “An outdated engine I am trying to reconstruct,” Lawrence lied. Another frantic knock filled the room. Lawrence opened the door. A dignitary stood in the doorway looking as if he sprinted around the promenade while ill. His hair stuck to the sweat on his forehead. It was clear he ran to Lawrence’s room as fast as he could. Through his heavy breaths, he stoically said, “Alban needs to see you in his room, now.” Abraham immediately walked out the door. Lawrence turned back to work on his device when heard the dignitary say, “Alban requested you as well Lawrence.”