#1 First of January, 2227, 04:36

                    
N.V. BLY

When I was small, My Father spoke of an old tradition that His Father, My Grandfather, observed in His childhood; at the time, the city of New London VII was a bustling jungle of art, science and business. Many cultures lived in the city, observing Their own customs and religions, creating smaller cities of like-minded People within the greater metropolis. People came and went as They pleased through these little cities, learning dances, singing songs, and breaking bread with People who were not Their own, yet somehow belonged together. Across the threshold of varying traditions in the mismatched Multitude, there was one unvarying celebration observed that signaled hope and newness- the New Year.

My Father told me that when the stroke of midnight signaled the new day of January 1st, Everyone broke into shouts and cheers. The streets drowned in a river of Dancers, Singers, and Spectators, the sky lit up with a thousand fireworks, and aeroplanes danced in the beam of giant torches, their Pilots competing for the most daring maneuver of the night. Prayers were said by the Faithful of the city, asking for favor from their Gods in these new beginnings. Somehow, the difference of a second from this one day of December 31st, to the next of January 1st was Humanity’s bleach. It cleaned stains of the previous year and left only pretty, shiny hearts, souls, and minds to inevitably be made filthy and tainted once again as the new year corroded. But at midnight, None cared about the probability of re-creating old mistakes; They cared only about the possibility of a fresh start.

Upon hearing this from my Father, I didn’t understand how a new day like any other in the dead of winter, could change anything in and of itself. Why, I wondered, would People wait until January to make what My Father called “resolutions”? 

Even so, after I was informed by Mr. Poft of having gotten the job at The Confident a week ago, I found Myself thinking of My Father and waiting for the first of January to make Myself this promise- this resolution: I will find Pappa’s Murderer. I will find Him, and He will pay. I will find the Person (if any), that hired or made the command for my Father’s execution. Maybe not this year, maybe not the next, but as of this first of January, I, Naelia Victoria Bly will dedicate My life to the extraction of justice for the death of Horace George Gregory Bly.