In terms of gravity and day-night cycles, Paradise City is all kinds of weird--but people had long grown used to it. No one had ever bothered to leave; Paradise City will always be home, and no other place is the same as home.

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Even though night had fallen as early as seven in the morning and the temperature had dropped down to fifteen degrees Celsius, frosted windows already blocking the students' view of the outside campus, the faculty had announced that a whole day of clearance signing still awaited their students. During normal school days teachers would rush to finish the lesson and send impatient children off the moment the sky turned pink, but when the end of the semester rolled in, this wasn't the case. Needless to say, the whole student body was miffed. Even the sixth years who were already used to this ordeal still simpered about as they walked the already-dark, freezing hallways.

No classroom was left jam-packed; uniformed teenagers with their jackets left at home filled every nook and cranny in the corridors, clutching clearance sheets yet to be signed by their teachers. They didn't even bother hitting a switch to turn the lights off --- in a split second they were scampering up the stairs, doors emanating a loud thud upon impact with the walls, in a rush to get everything done and just spend the rest of the week curled up in blankets in their classrooms.

Only one door remained closed.

While his schoolmates discussed missing requirements outside, one student plugged his guitar in his amplifier, the latter's red light blinking. Windows wide open, moonlight painting every surface in deep blue, coupled with the buzzing feedback, he heaved a light sigh. He had shut off all the lights inside ("Silence and nighttime? Heaven on Earth."), waited until all the students had taken up the fourth floor, and finally began to play.

Exit: light.

He was vaguely aware of the cord starting to hover from the ground . . .

It's happening again.

Enter: night.

The guitar turned to paper in his arms as his fingers moved faster, nimble as a spider . . .

We ascend further into space. . .

"Take my ha-! "

A flash of white blinded him and he almost screamed. Running his hands through his waist-length chestnut brown hair in a futile attempt to unblock his view, he turned to the intruder about to barge into the now-brightly lit room ---

"God's sake, Clifford! Where have you been?!" A face poked itself in the doorway. Its owner paid no heed to his beanie, about to loosen itself from his head. "We have clearance matters to attend to!"

"Been there, done that." Grinning, Clifford held up his sheet, colourful signatures filling the table. "I went to school earlier to get stuff over with without any hassle. Luckily, teachers arrived an hour early. What about yours, Garth?"

Garth's beanie abruptly floated off his head. He snatched the black headpiece out of the air and tossed it back on his auburn mop of hair, bangs swishing about as if they were submerged in water. "Cliff, Cliff, Cliff. . ." He shook his head, lips curled in a mischievous smile. "Whatever can we do about you?" His eyes settled on the blue Strat, miraculously still in his friend's arms despite the loss of gravity, and nearly choked. "I-I'm figuring you got your requirements cleared just to jam for the whole week?"

"Exactly." Cliff's hazel eyes drilled into Garth's green ones. "My fingers are aching." He cracked his knuckles for emphasis.

"Should I gather the band later?" the redhead asked. "You want to pursue a musical career, huh."

"And tell them to better be fast or suffer my wrath," Cliff chuckled.

Hours later, the door had been long closed and darkness reigned once more. Cliff still sat by himself in the classroom; almost every student inside the campus had taken advantage of the lack of gravity. The school's all-girls Sports League goggled up at their volleyball, now only a speck in the night sky. The trio of seniors known for their theatrics presented a dress rehearsal of their live-action roleplay on the circular stage, complete with cardboard props, improvised lights, and flamboyant choreography fit for a science fiction world. The couple who he'd seen refusing a dare to climb the colossal pine tree on the grounds now sat on its highest branch. The rest of the student body was either having a who-can-jump-the-highest contest or just letting themselves float away, but not so far above the ground to the point where they'd be in outer space.

Long ago, achieving zero gravity meant parabolas in planes or leaving Earth. Now, at any given time, you can float off the ground and hit the ceiling. It's why restraints are crucial--everywhere you looked, furniture stayed bolted to the floor or walls, brittle decor pieces relied on super-strong adhesive--even some people slept the way astronauts did. The unpredictable gravitational anomalies posed a hazard to the city as a whole--a department devoted to researching on its physics was even erected. But beyond the concerns, people saw more beauty in being able to reach a particular point without having to walk, run, or just touch the ground in general. To aim high for the heavens, to finally touch the clouds --- a child's dream.

The sun didn't set as early in most areas of the world then; in twenty-four hours, both day and night reigned. Twelve hours of light, maybe even thirteen or fourteen during the summer solstice --- and twelve hours of darkness, prolonged if you lived near the Poles or during the winter solstice. Most people preferred the brighter side of life. Today, with the sun shining for more than three days now, these people either embraced the opportunity and basked under its rays every chance they got or longed for at least an hour of nighttime chill. The same went for those who preferred just the moon and stars over a revealing blue sky.

People now treated zero gravity as a luxury.

The longer days and nights made them realise how important the other side is.

Maybe that's why they called it Paradise City, Cliff thought. Abnormal didn't even exist in this place anymore. There's no one he knew who left town for somewhere far beyond its reach. No one. And his family pretty much befriended the entire city, save for a few rivals in the political battleground.

What else could lie beyond the city borders?

His dream of fronting his thrash metal band stretched far beyond just shaking all of Paradise City to its core. He needed large-scale experience, one that involved him putting himself out there and playing for the whole world on multiple stages. Imagine... He stared off into space, clear visions of him shredding on a pearl-white Explorer in front of the largest, most barbaric mosh pit the world has ever known. Then the chants and sing-alongs. Oh, what would he give to feel chills run down his spine at a whole stadium forming a cacophonous choir!

A light rap on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. It slowly swung open, revealing redheaded Garth and two more boys behind him. "I made sure to knock."

"We saw the final rankings," Garrick piped up, thick blonde hair hiding his right eye. "You'll be the last to walk up the stage. Best ones always come last, don't they?"

"Congrats, ya smart aleck." Bucktoothed Rendrell flashed a grin at Cliff as he whisked jet-black bangs out of his face. "Dunno how we'll ever measure up to you, but hey, 'least we're still in the top ten. Victory drink in the cafeteria?"

Cliff stood up from his place on the amplifier, flashing a colossal grin of his own. "Now we're talking."

: || :

Backstage, what little light streaming through the slits in the wall did nothing to help the graduating students robed in black. A couple's robes glowed a little in the rays as they scurried about, careful not to trip over their shoes.

"Okay, whoever this is, move out of the way!"

"Hot damn, it's too dark. Rendrell must be working on the lights by now."

"This must be our longest night yet, dude. Over two weeks and counting!"

A shoe hit a student in the face before it fell back down again along with the sudden return of the pulling force. "Gravity's going more and more haywire each day, too."

A disembodied dark head --- Rendrell --- poked itself in from behind the wall. "WE MAY HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THE LIGHTS! Where in this green hell is Cliff?!"

"I'm right here."

Everyone whirled to see the silhouette of their valedictorian standing in the entrance, looking regal in his graduation robes and toga hat. Garth and Rendrell both gaped at him, taking in his hair tied in a low, neat ponytail, once covering every inch of his shoulders and back and flying all over the place, and a smile that could have ended seventeen days' worth of nighttime.

"More like 'I ran late because I was fixing my hair'," Rendrell breathed, finding his voice once more. "You look an awful lot like Cliff Burton with that smile."

Garth jabbed Rendrell in the side, earning an "oomph!" from him. "That's why his parents named him Clifford, ya drunkard!"

Cliff mimed a handgun with his fingers at the mention of the 1980's bass virtuoso. "Ceremony's about to start, by the way," he remarked, turning outside. More robed students had started filing in, parents' hands in theirs. Some had already occupied the seats under the tents. "You guys may want to get to your positions for the march. I'll help Rendrell with the lights and stuff."

Everyone backstage complied, Garth trailing behind seventeen other students already heading for the school gates. As soon as the backstage was void of any people, Cliff scaled the stage and scooted beside Rendrell, who busied himself with adjusting the stage lights. At last they sparked on, emitting a soft yellow glow that enhanced the elegant atmosphere.

Triumphant, Rendrell patted them and turned to Cliff. "All's good, buddy. You got our gear ready for our intermission number later?"

"I found them already secured to the stage, restraints and all," the latter replied. "The only tinkering I did was tune the guitars, especially your bass. E and A strings somehow got downtuned one whole step."

Rendrell frowned. "Huh. Probably just the gravity anomalies or something, if that is even possible. Mr. Blue Sky, right?"

Cliff nodded in response and glanced at the line of students, then at the tents now jam-packed with people. "We should run."

Soon all the ceremonial rites knocked the wind out of the audience, the achievements already announced, the speeches delivered, the pictures taken, the graduation songs sung, and so the electric yet melancholic air of end-term closing rites hung in the air. But yet one more graduation song kept the anxious parents and relatives in their seats--one to be delivered by the school band themselves. Onstage, Garrick sat behind the small drum kit provided by the school, Rendrell gripped the fretboard in his bass in one hand and the microphone stand in another, Garrick adjusted the cord plugged in his guitar, and Cliff turned the last of his Strat's tuning knobs to a full A. The four exchanged nervous glances, the realization of their remaining time together as the school band ticking away in their minds.

"Ready for Tinylife's last performance?" Cliff breathlessly asked. Despite the temperature gradually growing warmer, he wrapped his robes around his shivering body tighter.

"Last? Ha!" Rendrell mock-scoffed. "We'll never stop, we'll never quit--"

"We are Motorhead!" Garrick yelled at the same time Rendrell completed the lyric with "'Cause we're Metallica!"

Thankfully, the emcees rushed to the podium as soon as they saw the band up and ready before Garrick and Rendrell broke into another one of many musical arguments over which band's cover of the referenced song sounded better. "Before you pack up and clear out of the quadrangle," the first emcee spoke into the mic, "shall we hear a performance of a classic that you probably know in some way or another?"

The audience responded with loud, raucous cheers.

"Then, for probably the last time, let's welcome Tinylife to the stage!"

Amid the applause, Rendrell leaned into the mic and grinned. "Cheer if you know the song, will ya?"

Immediately, on his left, Cliff launched into the opening notes of their song. Soon after Rendrell's bass, Garrick's pounding on the drums, and Garth's rhythm guitar broke through. Rendrell suppressed a "whoop!" and managed another mischievous grin.

"Sun is shining in the sky..."

Shouts enveloped the boys' ears, and Rendrell had to restrain himself from whooping in the middle of the song once again. Out of the corner of his eye, Cliff was gesturing to the silhouetted mountains in the distance. "Rays," he mouthed.

The boys turned their heads in Cliff's hand's direction and finally saw what it was. The first rays of sunshine breaking through the longest-recorded period of darkness, painting the horizon in vibrant hues of red and purple. They watched the first dark shades of blue emerge out of the lavender haze as the song progressed, Rendrell somehow keeping his wonder in check while Cliff marveled at how it all just fit together, just struck at the right time. While Rendrell sang the line in his smooth tenor, Cliff said it in no more than a whisper.

"Welcome to the human race."

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oKaY this was sitting in my drafts since last year and a while ago i was reading through this thing and i was like , hey, this is okay if not cringey as hELL at the same time, but screw it let's finish it. and i Swear To God i AM finishing it, and im going to get back into writing because hell man i absolutely LOVE writing and i'd be damned if i let my writing muscles go stiff entirely.

anyway, meet cliff! totally didn't name him after cliff burton ehe