Asterward.com

Aster wore the radio because it was part of the uniform.

That was, as far as anyone could tell, the extent of his relationship with it.

Malik had been working nights long enough to develop a healthy respect for systems. Not trust – that would have been optimistic – but respect. Systems were what stopped things from quietly unravelling while everyone assumed they were fine.

The radio was part of that.

You reported things. You logged things. You made sure that if something went wrong, at least three other people could say they’d heard about it before it got worse. You covered your arse.

Aster didn’t do any of that.

He had the radio. He just… didn’t use it.

At first, Malik assumed he’d missed it. Different shifts, different rotations, the usual overlap problems. It happened.

Then he started paying attention.

Three nights in a row, something small went wrong somewhere in the zoo.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing worth panicking over. The sort of low-level nonsense that made up most of the job – lights that flickered like they were thinking about failing properly later, gates that didn’t quite settle into place, animals that decided that two in the morning was the perfect time to reconsider their life choices.

And every time…

Aster was already there.

Not rushing. Not reacting.

Just present.

Malik tested it on the fourth night.

Deliberately took the long route. Let a call sit for a few seconds longer than he normally would. Nothing irresponsible. Just enough to see if the timing shifted.

It didn’t.

By the time Malik arrived Aster was already closing the gate.

Again.

Malik stopped a few paces away and looked at him for a moment, like he might turn into something more sensible if observed correctly.

“You know that radio isn’t just decorative, right?” he said.

Aster glanced at it, as if mildly surprised to find it still attached to him.

“It works.”

“I’m sure it does. That’s not the issue.”

Aster waited.

Malik gestured vaguely at the zoo.

“You’re beating it,” he said. “The radio. The calls. All of it.”

Aster considered that.

“Yes.”

Malik blinked.

“You’re just… saying yes to that?”

“It’s accurate.”

“That’s not how this works. That’s not how anything works.”

“No,” Aster said. “It isn’t.”

There was a pause.

Malik had the uncomfortable sense that he’d just lost an argument he hadn’t quite started.

“You want to explain how you keep turning up before things happen,” he said, “or should I start assuming you’re psychic and fill in the paperwork?”

“I’m not psychic.”

“Great. Good. That’s one form avoided. So what are you?”

Aster thought about that for a moment.

Then, simply:

“I pay attention.”

Malik stared at him.

“Right,” he said. “And I suppose the rest of us are just here for fun?”

Aster didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

That was, Malik was beginning to realise, a recurring problem.

The radio crackled.

“-security, we’ve got an issue near-”

Aster was already moving.

Not quickly. Not urgently.

Just… gone from where he had been standing, direction chosen before the voice had finished deciding where the problem actually was.

Malik swore under his breath and followed.

“-north service gate, looks like it didn’t latch properly-”

“Of course it didn’t,” Malik muttered, more out of principle than anything else.

He cut across the path, taking the faster line.

He knew the layout.

He should have beaten him.

He didn’t.

Aster was already there.

One hand resting against the gate. Not forcing it closed. Not inspecting it.

Just… there.

Malik slowed.

“You heard that early?” he said.

“I didn’t hear it.”

“Then how did you…”

“It was going to open.”

Malik stared at him.

“That’s not how gates work.”

“No,” Aster said. “It isn’t.”

He adjusted the latch.

It wasn’t a repair. Not exactly. Nothing visible changed. No part replaced, no mechanism forced.

The gate simply… settled.

As if it had remembered what it was supposed to be doing.

Malik stepped forward and gave it a firm push.

Solid.

No give.

No issue.

He looked back at Aster.

“You’re telling me you just knew that was going to happen.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Aster’s gaze shifted past him, out across the zoo.

“Because it already had.”

Malik opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

“Right,” he said. “No, that’s…great. Love that. Very reassuring.”

The radio crackled again.

“-anyone near the primate house.”

Aster turned.

Malik grabbed his sleeve.

“No. Stay. Let someone else take that one.”

“They won’t get there in time.”

“For what?”

Aster didn’t answer.

Malik let go anyway.

There was something about the way he said it. Not urgency. Not fear.

Certainty.

They moved together.

Malik watched him as they went, trying to catch the moment – the decision, the shift, the point where Aster chose direction.

He couldn’t see it.

There was no start.

No change.

Just movement that happened to be exactly right.

They reached the primate house.

The door was open.

Not wide. Not broken.

Just… wrong.

Aster stopped.

Not at the threshold.

Just before it.

Like he’d reached a line no one else could see.

Malik pushed past him.

“It’s just a door.”

“Don’t.”

Too late.

Malik stepped inside.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then the sound arrived.

Not loud. Not sudden.

Just… layered.

Too many movements occupying the same space without agreeing on how. Breath and shift and presence overlapping in a way that didn’t resolve into anything the brain could comfortably name.

Malik froze.

Behind him, Aster stepped in.

And the space changed.

Not fixed.

Not corrected.

Paused.

Like something had been introduced that everything else had to account for.

Malik turned.

“Aster…”

He stopped.

For a moment – just a moment – Aster didn’t fit.

Same man. Same clothes. Same stillness.

But the shape of him…

The light didn’t sit properly.

His outline carried weight it shouldn’t. Not bulk. Not size.

Mass.

As if there was more of him than there was room for, pressed into a shape that only mostly worked.

His shoulders seemed broader when you didn’t look directly at them. His stance held like something built to meet force head-on, not step around it.

And for a second — a trick of shadow, angle, something…

There was the impression of a forward curve that shouldn’t have been there at all.

Then it was gone.

Aster moved.

Slowly. Deliberately.

Into the space.

The sound shifted.

Not silenced.

Separated.

Each movement finding its place again, no longer competing for the same moment.

Malik exhaled.

He hadn’t realised he’d stopped breathing.

“What did you just do?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.”

“No,” Aster said.

He stopped.

Adjusted his stance.

Not forward. Not back.

Just… differently.

For a moment, it felt like he wasn’t standing on the ground so much as with it.

And the space settled.

Not empty.

Not quiet.

Right.

Malik swallowed.

“You need to start using the radio,” he said, because it was the only sentence his brain could assemble that still belonged to the same world as everything else.

“I don’t need to.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is.”

Malik let out a short laugh.

“No, the point is the rest of us don’t know what you’re doing.”

Aster looked at him. Paused. Then..

“I know.”

“That’s a problem.”

Aster considered that.

“Not for the animals.”

That hit him harder than it should have.

Malik didn’t have a response for it.

Which was becoming a pattern.

Aster stepped past him, back toward the door.

The space held.

Whatever had been wrong didn’t return.

It stayed… aligned.

Malik followed more slowly.

Out into the night.

Back into something that behaved properly.

He looked down at the radio.

Still quiet.

No updates.

No escalation.

Nothing logged.

“Right,” he muttered. “That’s normal.”

The radio crackled.

He flinched, then scowled at himself.

“-security, we’ve got a light out near-”

Malik didn’t bother listening to the rest.

He looked up.

Aster was already gone.

“Yeah,” he said. “Fine. Great. Love that.”

He lifted the radio.

Paused.

Lowered it again.

Because what was the point?

Whatever it was…

Aster would already be there.

Malik looked out across the zoo, trying to place him.

Couldn’t.

That was the problem.

It wasn’t that Aster moved quickly.

It was that he moved before.

Malik frowned.

He stood there a moment longer, radio hanging loose in his hand.

“…how long have you been doing that?” he said to the empty path.

No answer.

Just the zoo, settling back into itself.

Malik shook his head once, like that might reset something.

Didn’t work.

He raised the radio again, forced himself back into motion.

Routine. Process. Things that made sense.

But the thought stayed with him.

Not the speed.

Not the timing.

Something worse.

Because if Aster wasn’t reacting…

Then he wasn’t guessing.

Which meant…

Malik stopped.

Looked back, though there was nothing there.

“…you’re not getting there early,” he said under his breath.

The words sat for a second.

Then shifted.

Colder.

“No,” he corrected quietly.

“You’re just always getting there on time.”