← Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
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- [00:00]
Narrator
Hello, friends. Before we begin, there's a quick ad and then we'll get right to the story.
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Blue
What exactly do you learn at a school for royal Magic?
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Sophia
Sophia I can't wait to find out. Join Sophia welcome to Charmswell.
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Narrator
Don't just stand there.
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Blue
We've got spells to learn.
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Sophia
In her most magical adventure ever, my emulet's giving me new powers. Blue Maggo It's a good thing I'm at a school for Royal magic. Sophia the first royal magic now available. Disney Junior and Disney. Learn more@disneyplus.com what's on it's the carefree
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Narrator
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The gang has solved the latest mystery of the teacher gifts and think about how this was the second mystery they solved where good things were happening and no one was bad and everyone was nice. Red and Blue are concerned about their mother and the fact that she has not been around much lately except when she is sleeping. She had a cold a while ago, but that can't still be making her sick. What is going on? The Transfer Student Volume 3, Part 14. Red woke up to the sound of a duck quacking and a goose honking. She was tired, so it might have been going off for a while, which might explain her dream of being on a farm. Except the farm was on Mars, which isn't possible. But it is a dream after all. Blue struck again. Ugh. She reached over to turn off her phone alarm, but it wasn't in its usual place. She forced opened her left and then her right eye. It was across the room, inside the Easter basket Mom bought a while back, trying to get into Earth's traditions and celebrations. There were chocolate eggs in it when she bought it. Now it had her phone and a stuffed toy duck and goose. Now her alarm was mooing like a cow getting out of bed. Her feet touched something other than her soft rug. It was something prickly and hard. Part of her bedroom floor was covered in straw. Blue. She yelled. You have gone too far this time. She quickly got dressed. She wore almost the same thing every day. Earth's love of fashion escaped her, went to the bathroom and stomped down the stairs to complain to Mom. Blue would get in trouble this time, but when she finally made it downstairs, mom wasn't there. Blue was sitting at the table alone with a big smirk on his face, eating something from the toaster. Where's Mom? Red asked. In bed, I guess. Red's anger quickly disappeared. So strange. She is always up in the morning. She is the most morning person I have ever known. Even on Mars she was cheerful. Blue smirk disappeared. I know something is up. Do you think she has another one of those viruses that people get here? Maybe she has the flu. Red went to pour herself some almond milk tea. Lately she had been enjoying it with her breakfast, one of the few Earth things she'd adopted without much complaint. Should we go check on her or just give her a little more time? I need to eat first because, you know, I need to fuel my fabulous brain, blue replied with his mouth full. Yeah, right. I forgot about your brain. It is so fabulous, red said with an eye roll, her favorite new facial expression, which she used particularly often around Blue. They ate in unusual silence, without mom bustling around the kitchen asking about homework and whether Red had remembered her gym clothes and had Blue brushed his teeth properly. The house felt different, quieter in a way that wasn't comfortable. Even Blue, who could normally fill any silence with commentary about his own brilliance, just ate his toast and stared at the table. We should check on her, red said finally. Okay, blue agreed, pushing his plate aside. They went upstairs together. Red knocked softly on Mom's door. No answer. She knocked again, a little louder. Mom, it's us. A long pause, and then a muffled, tired voice came through the door. I'm okay. Just tired. You two get to school. There's money on the counter for lunch if you need it. Red and Blue exchanged a look in the hallway. Mom had never stayed in bed on a school day, not once, not even during that terrible cold back in November that had turned her voice into something resembling a foghorn. She had still made breakfast, still packed lunches, still waved them off at the door. They went back downstairs slowly. Red stood in the kitchen, looking at the two cups on the counter, her own tea half finished and Mom's Coffee stone cold and completely untouched. Red poured it down the sink and rinsed the cup the way mom always did after a particularly rough bus ride. There were more potholes than usual. The rest of the school day was completely normal, which was a problem. Mr. McCaskill made three puns in English that made everyone groan except Red, who didn't really hear them. Kurt ate two lunches. Charlie lost his homework and found it in his own backpack. After 10 minutes of increasingly dramatic searching, Alexa had a new spreadsheet for something Red couldn't focus on long enough to understand. Everything was exactly as it should be, and Red couldn't concentrate on any of it. Charlie noticed first, because Charlie always noticed. He nudged her at lunch. You okay? You've got that face. What face? Red replied, trying to figure out what face other than her own. He might be referring to the face where you're here, but you're also somewhere else completely. Red almost told him it was the kind of thing she would have kept entirely to herself a year ago, but the gang had a way of making her want to say things out loud, but she didn't even know what to say yet. She wouldn't even know where to start. My mom didn't drink. Her coffee sounded so small out loud, but it didn't feel small at all. I'm fine, she said. Just up late reading some stuff. Charlie looked like he didn't entirely believe her but let it go, which was one of the things Red appreciated about Charlie. After school, she said goodbye to the gang quickly and walked fast to the bus stop. For once she didn't spend the ride annoyed at the noise and the bumps and the particular smell of humans after gym class that seemed to cling to the yellow monstrosity. She just looked out the window and watched the houses go past and thought about cold coffee and a closed bedroom door and the way Blue smirk had disappeared so fast. She just wanted to get home. Blue was already home when Red got there, which wasn't unusual. His bus had a shorter route. What was unusual was that he was sitting completely still at the kitchen table with his laptop open and an expression on his face that Red didn't very often see. He looked worried. Mom? Red asked immediately. She's still in her room, blue said. He turned the laptop toward her. But look at this. Red dropped her backpack and leaned in. Blue had been mapping the home WI FI network, which was exactly the kind of thing he did for fun after school and which Red usually found somewhere between impressive and deeply annoying. The screen showed every device connected to the network, its activity, and its usage patterns laid out in a clean, color coded chart. Mom's tablet was highlighted in red. She's been active from 11pm until 4am Blue said. Every night this week and the night before and the night before that. Red stared at the screen. So she's not sick? Blue shook his head slowly. She's tired because she's not sleeping. What is she working on? Well, blue said, pulling up another screen, she's on our network, but she's routing everything through an external connection on top of it. Like a tunnel inside the tunnel. Really heavily encrypted, too. Way more than anything I've seen on Earth. Blue, what are you saying? He looked up at her. The encryption. I know what it is, and it's not from Earth. Red straightened up. What do you mean it isn't from Earth? Blue looked at her steadily. I mean it's Martian. Old Martian. The kind used for classified scientific communications back home. I almost didn't recognize it. How do you recognize it at all? Dad showed it to me once, years ago, back on Mars. He said it was a kind of puzzle. Showed me the pattern and told me to see if I could figure out how it worked. He said it was just a puzzle. Blue looked at her. Yeah. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Outside, the neighbor's dog was barking at something. A car went past. Normal Earth afternoon sounds that felt very far away suddenly. Red looked at the chart again. Nearly five hours a night, every night for at least a week. Mom, who went to bed early and woke up before anyone else, who was the most disciplined person Red had ever known, was secretly working through the night using Martian encrypted communications. We should look at her office, red said. Blue closed his laptop and got up. Red led the way to what was the smallest room in the house, just big enough for a desk, a bookshelf, and the small lamp she had found at the farmer's market last spring and been unreasonably pleased about. The door was closed but not locked. Red pushed it open slowly. It looked normal at first books on the shelf, a careful mix of Earth science texts and the Martian ones she'd brought from home, disguised in plain covers that wouldn't raise questions. A cup of pens, a notepad with a grocery list on it, Milk, bread, the specific brand of crackers Blue had recently decided were the only crackers worth eating. Red almost felt silly for being there. But Blue was already at the desk, not touching anything, just looking. He had a rule about that observe first, touch second, which was honestly more discipline than Red expected from him in most situations. There, he said quietly. Half tucked under a green folder was a single sheet of paper covered in Mom's handwriting, not the casual mix of English and informal Martian she used for grocery lists and notes. To herself, this was different, precise formal notation, the kind used in official Martian research documentation, the kind Red had seen in her mother's old papers from before they left. Red picked it up carefully, angling it toward the lamp. Her formal Martian scientific vocabulary was rustier than she would have liked, but she could make out enough atmospheric variance readings, pressure differential calculations, a series of numbers that meant something specific to someone who understood atmospheric restoration science, which Red did, just barely, from years of growing up around her mother's work, and a location designation she didn't immediately recognize. Sector 7, she read further. A name at the bottom of the page, written carefully, almost like mom wanted to make sure she spelled it correctly, even though she obviously knew how. Dr. Yava Soren. And underneath, a single line in smaller writing, the kind of writing people use when they're almost talking to themselves. If these numbers are right, we have maybe five years. Red heard Blue's sharp intake of breath. He'd been reading over her shoulder the whole time. Five years until what? He said, very quietly. Red didn't answer because she wasn't entirely sure, and she didn't want to say out loud what she suspected. She put the paper back exactly as she'd found it, angled under the green folder the same way. They backed out of the office and pulled the door closed behind them. They stood in the hallway, not saying anything. From upstairs came the familiar sound of Mom's bedroom door opening. They rushed back and were in the kitchen before she reached the bottom of the stairs, Red with the kettle on and Blue with his head in the fridge, like he'd been there all afternoon. Neither of them had discussed doing this. They just did it. Mom appeared in the doorway, looking like someone who had slept but hadn't rested. Her hair was down, which was unusual. Mom almost always had her hair up by the time anyone saw her. She was wearing her old university sweater, the one with the faded letters from an institution that didn't exist on any Earth campus directory. Red had asked about it once, and mom had said it was from a Canadian school, which was technically true in the same way that a lot of things in their house were technically true. Oh good, you're both home, she said, like this was a completely normal afternoon. Red made tea without being asked. Mom's specific kind, the one she'd ordered online three times now because no local store carried it. She set it on the table without comment. Mom sat down and wrapped both hands around the mug the way she did when she was cold or tired or both. Thank you, she said quietly. How was school? Easy as usual, red said. Same, blue said. Mom nodded and looked at her tea. Red sat across from her and tried to look like someone with nothing particular on her mind, which she was discovering was much harder than it sounded. Blue had relocated to the counter with a bowl of cereal even though it was five in the afternoon, which was the most normal thing he'd done all day. They talked about small things, a test Red had coming up, something funny that happened on Blue's bus, whether they needed more of Blue's specific crackers from the store. Mom laughed once, a real laugh at something Blue said, and for a moment she looked entirely like herself. After dinner, Red did English homework at her desk and tried not to think about atmospheric variance readings and a name she didn't recognize. She almost succeeded. At 10 o' clock she turned off her light. At 11:45 she woke up for no particular reason and lay in the dark, looking at the ceiling. The house was completely quiet. She turned over to go back to sleep. Then she saw it, the thin line of light under her bedroom door, not from the hallway but from downstairs. She watched it for a long moment, this small, certain light in the dark house, and then she got up. Red opened her door and stepped out into the upstairs hallway. The night light at the top of the stairs threw just enough light to see by. Blue's door was closed and dark. She stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, listening. She thought she heard something. Red came downstairs slowly, her socked feet finding the steps that didn't creak. She'd learned which ones to avoid the hard way during a period last year when Blue's pranks had escalated to a level that required advance reconnaissance. At the bottom of the stairs she could see a warm and steady light under the office door, which was almost closed but not quite. Red moved toward it. She could hear Mom's voice now, low, precise, speaking in formal Martian. Not a conversation, more like dictation, like someone recording findings at the end of a long experiment. Red caught fragments through the door, sector 7 variants now at 4.2, consistent with Soren's projections. The suppression layer cannot hold much longer. Red's hand found the door and pushed it open slightly. The room was full of light. Not lamp light, something else entirely, a soft blue white glow from displays that floated in the air above the desk, holographic and unmistakable, the kind of technology that existed in exactly one place. And it was not Earth. Mom was at the center of it, her back to the door, surrounded by data that hung in the air like stars. She went still. Slowly she turned around. For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The displays hummed quietly outside. The wind moved through the trees. Everything else was completely silent. Mom looked at Red. Red looked at Mom. Then mom reached out and closed her hand around the edge of the nearest display, and the light went out, and the room was just a room again. She let out a long sigh. I think, she said quietly, that we need to talk. And that is the end of this part. Good night. Sleep tight.
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Blue
Sat.