Bas had always had a friend named Edgar.

It wasn't unusual for kids to have imaginary friends. Bas's therapist—Dr. Pemberton, a man with kind eyes and a soft voice and a office full of stuffed animals Bas was never allowed to touch—had told Bas's mother that imaginary friends were normal, that they were a sign of creativity, that Bas should be encouraged to talk to Edgar because it helped Bas process feelings Bas couldn't express out loud.

But Edgar wasn't imaginary. Bas knew this because Edgar could touch things. Edgar could open doors. Edgar could pick up a baseball and throw it and Bas could hear the ball hitting the fence. Edgar could be heard by other people—Mrs. Gable next door had talked to Edgar on the phone when Bas's mother was in the shower and Bas was eight years old, and Mrs. Gable had said Edgar sounded "very polite, Sebastian, very much like your grandfather."

Bas's grandfather had been dead for three years before Edgar showed up. Edgar sounded exactly like him. This was not a coincidence. Bas knew this because he had heard his grandfather's voice on recordings—recordings his mother kept in a box under her bed, recordings Bas was not allowed to listen to.

Edgar appeared the summer before Bas turned twelve. He was fifteen—three years older than Bas, which made him the perfect age for a friend who knew things Bas didn't know. Edgar had opinions about everything. Edgar had a plan for Bas's future. Edgar told Bas he was special, that he had a gift, that the medication Dr. Pemberton had given him was stealing his gift.

Bas's medication was risperidone. Two milligrams at night. He had been taking it for two years, since the day Dr. Pemberton had sat Bas down in his office and said words like "early-onset schizophrenia" and "delusional disorder" and "we need to start treatment immediately." Bas remembered that day. He remembered the word delusional. He had looked at Dr. Pemberton and said, "You're delusional." Dr. Pemberton had not been offended. He had written something in his notebook.

The pills made Edgar smaller. Bas had noticed this early on. When he took the pill, Edgar was there but distant—like a radio signal that was slightly out of tune. When he missed a pill, Edgar was louder, clearer, closer. When he missed three pills in a row, Edgar was everywhere. Edgar was in the walls. Edgar was in the ceiling. Edgar was in the space between Bas's ears, whispering things Bas didn't want to hear but couldn't stop hearing.

The Great Silence happened in October. Bas was thirteen. He was sitting in Mr. Henderson's history class, staring out the window at the parking lot, when the bell rang and nobody moved. Mr. Henderson was standing at the front of the room, his mouth open, his eyes wide, his hand still raised from writing on the whiteboard. He was not moving.

Bas stood up. He walked to Mr. Henderson. He touched his teacher's arm. It was warm. But Mr. Henderson was gone.

Bas walked out of the classroom. The hallways were full of students—some crying, some shouting, some standing perfectly still like Mr. Henderson. Bas walked to the main office. Ms. Carroll was behind the desk, her head resting on the phone, her eyes open and unseeing.

Bas went home. His mother was not home. His mother worked at the library. His mother was gone.

Edgar was there.

Edgar was sitting on the couch in the living room, his legs crossed, his hands folded, his expression calm. He looked exactly the way Bas remembered his grandfather—from the recordings, from the funeral, from the dreams Bas had when he wasn't on the pills. Same dark hair. Same sharp nose. Same eyes that seemed to see everything.

"They're all gone," Edgar said. His voice was his grandfather's voice. It was exactly the same.

"Who?" Bas asked. He was not surprised to see Edgar. Edgar was always there. Edgar was his friend.

"Everyone over thirteen. Everyone." Edgar stood up and walked to the window and looked out at the street. "The Great Silence. That's what they're calling it. Or they will, when there are enough people left to name things."

Bas stood behind him, looking out the window. The street was full of cars—some parked, some stopped in the middle of the road, some with their doors open. People's houses were full of half-eaten dinners and televisions still on and shoes by the front door. Bas's mother's car was not there. His father's car—his father had been gone for five years, killed in a car accident on the I-95, the same accident that had started everything, the same accident that had led to Dr. Pemberton and the pills and the diagnosis and the word delusional.

"How long do I have left?" Bas asked.

Edgar turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"The pills. How long do I have left?"

Edgar walked to the kitchen. He opened the medicine cabinet. He took out the bottle of risperidone. He held it up to the light. "Thirty-one pills. You take one at night. You have about a month."

Bas felt something in his chest go cold. A month. Thirty-one days. After that, Edgar would be gone. Or worse than gone—Edgar would be louder than ever, because Bas had felt what happened when he missed three pills in a row. Edgar was not a friend when Bas wasn't medicated. Edgar was something else. Something bigger. Something that lived in the spaces between Bas's thoughts and filled them with voices that weren't Bas's.

"Why are you here?" Bas asked. "After the silence. Why are you still here?"

Edgar put the pill bottle back in the cabinet. He closed the cabinet door. He turned to face Bas.

"Because I was never real, Bas."

The words hit Bas like a physical blow. He staggered backward, his hand finding the edge of the kitchen table to steady himself.

"What?"

"I was never real. I was never your grandfather. I was never a friend. I was the illness, Bas. I was always the illness. Dr. Pemberton knew this. He told you. He told you it was a delusional disorder. He told you I wasn't real."

"But I could hear you," Bas said. "I could see you. You could touch things."

"You could hear me because I'm in your head. You could see me because I'm in your head. I could touch things because you let me touch things. You always let me touch things, Bas. You've always let me."

Bas sat down at the kitchen table. His hands were shaking. "You're saying you're not real."

"I'm saying I'm you. I'm the part of you that Dr. Pemberton is trying to medicate away. I'm the part of you that sees patterns other people don't see. I'm the part of you that knows things other people don't know. I'm the part of you that is sick."

Bas looked at the medicine cabinet. Thirty-one pills. Thirty-one days of Edgar being distant. Thirty-one days of Edgar being quiet. Thirty-one days of Bas being alone with the part of himself that Dr. Pemberton called delusional.

"If you're me," Bas said, "then who is Dr. Pemberton?"

Edgar smiled. It was not a kind smile. "Dr. Pemberton is a man who thinks he can medicate away your gift. He thinks he can make you normal. But normal is a lie, Bas. Normal is what they tell you when they don't understand what you are."

Bas looked at the pill bottle. Thirty-one pills. He picked it up. He held it in his hand. He felt the weight of it—light, almost nothing. Thirty-one small white pills. Thirty-one days of silence. Thirty-one days of Edgar being gone.

He opened the bottle. He poured three pills into his palm. He looked at them. They were white and round and small. They looked like nothing. They were everything.

"What will you do?" Edgar asked. His voice was Bas's grandfather's voice. It was exactly the same.

Bas looked at Edgar. He looked at the pills. He looked at the medicine cabinet. He looked at the street outside the window, where cars were stopped and doors were open and nobody was moving.

He put the pills on the counter. He opened the faucet. He ran water over them until they dissolved in the sink.

Edgar's smile widened. It was the widest Bas had ever seen it. It was also the widest a person's smile had ever been. It went too far. It went past the edges of the face.

"Good boy," Edgar said. And his voice was not his grandfather's voice anymore. It was Bas's voice. It had always been Bas's voice.

Bas stood up. He walked to the front door. He opened it. He stepped outside. The street was quiet. The cars were stopped. The doors were open. The houses were full of half-eaten dinners and televisions still on and shoes by the front door.

Edgar walked beside him. Not in front of him. Not behind him. Beside him. Because Edgar was Bas. Edgar had always been Bas. Edgar would always be Bas.

They walked down the street together. Two people who were one person. One person who was two people. Walking down a silent street in a silent town in a silent world, side by side, hand in hand, heart in heart, because they were the same heart and the same hands and the same side and the same hand and the same everything.

The town had about 150 children. They would find each other. They would try to build something. They would fail. They would try again. They would fail again. They would keep trying until there were no more tries left.

But Bas was not thinking about the town. He was thinking about Edgar. He was thinking about the pills. He was thinking about Dr. Pemberton and his kind eyes and his soft voice and his office full of stuffed animals Bas was never allowed to touch.

Bas was thinking about the word delusional.

He smiled. It was not a kind smile. It was the widest Bas had ever seen it. It went too far. It went past the edges of the face.

Edgar smiled too. Because Edgar was Bas. And Bas was Edgar. And they were both smiling at a world that had no idea what was coming.

The Great Silence had taken the adults. But the children were still here. And Bas was here. And Edgar was here. And Edgar was Bas. And they were ready.

══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════ OTMES v2 Objective Tensor Code ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════ Code: OTMES-v2-QWEN-06-4E9B2A-E08.6-8-T090-F5C7 E_total: 8.6 Dominant Mode: M8 (Psychological Thriller) Theta: 90 (Inner World) TI: 85.70 Variant: V-06 Edgar Source: The Super Nova Era (超新星纪元) by Liu Cixin ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════