Last time, plot happened. Now, exposition, lots of it.

10
12:00 A.M.
MIDNIGHTERS
“As her eyes met the moon, Jessica cried out. They flashed a deep indigo, just
like the panther’s.

Jessica took a step back from the three of them. Those reflecting eyes
belonged to cats or raccoons, owls or foxes—things that hunted in the dark. Not
people. The girl’s eyes looked normal now, but after that momentary reflection,
she seemed less human.”

After that nice bit of creepiness, it’s established that Jessica’s eyes are normal, unlike theirs, and that while she sees the moon as devoid of color, the rest of the group perceive it differently.

“I mean—,” she sputtered. “What’s going on? What are you talking about? And
what are you doing in my dream?”

Rex stepped back and put up his hands. Dess giggled but half turned away as
if embarrassed. Melissa cocked her head.

“Sorry,” Rex said. “I should have told you: this isn’t a dream.”

“But—” Jessica started, but sighed, knowing suddenly that she believed him.
The pain, the fear, the feel of her heart pumping in her chest had all been too
real. This was not a dream. It was a relief not to pretend to herself anymore.”

Fucking finally. And what does her thinking it’s all a dream amounted to? Her being willing to follow Boo? She could have done it anyway, as a part of her exploring this new strange world. Or she could have run from home after seeing frozen Beth and not being able to reach her parents. Ugh. At least it’s finally over.

After Jessica calms down, they talk, providing basic exposition of what’s going on. Important bits:

– The secret hour is actually just called midnight and happens every day. During that time, everything is frozen, and afterwards returns to normal. Most people don’t even notice anything. It’s the same for monsters here, only in reverse: they live only during that hour every day. Though it seems they disappear out of it instead of being frozen like humans. The narration doesn’t really clarify.

– People who can perceive the secret hour are called Midnighters because, as should be evident from their names for slithers and darklings, they are not very imaginative. Midnighters are born within a second of midnight:

“Sure. One out of every 43,200 people is born within one second of midnight,”
Dess said, smiling happily. “Of course, we’re not exactly sure how close you
have to get. And we’re talking real midnight here.”

I have a bit of a problem with that distinction between what people think midnight is and the “real” midnight. By making the distinction, the book implies the world is not connected to human perception but operates according to natural laws, even if those laws are different than what we know. That, however, is going to lead to various problems later, when man-made concepts will become important. So, keep it in mind.

– Slithers like to watch Midnighters, while darklings normally don’t pay them much attention unless they do something stupid. Neither has a habit of attacking Midnighters, so what happened to Jessica is highly unusual.

After the talk, the group agrees to meet tomorrow at noon in a museum, since the secret hour is going to end soon, so Jessica should go home. Rex promises they are going to get to the bottom of what’s going on and ensure Jessica is save.

She gets home, which is conveniently close to their current location (they got there within five minutes with some time to spare), and the group parts.

“You don’t belong,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “That’s why
the darkling wanted to kill you.”

Jessica opened her mouth, then shrugged.

“I didn’t ask to be a midnighter,” she said.

“Maybe you’re not,” Melissa said. “Not a real one, anyway. Something about
you is so… 11:59. You don’t belong.”

And before that, Dess also said that Jessica is “so daylight.”

Yeah, I still don’t like that elitism. It’s bearable now that we know Midnighters are likely lashing out against people who reject them, but a few more scenes of that rejection would be nice to show.

Jessica kinda agrees with Melissa, thinking about how Midnighters appreciate the secret hour because it’s theirs alone, while she is fine in the daylight world and doesn’t need that escape.

She then visits Beth and sits with her until the secret hour is over, covering her back in blanket before that. Beth wakes up and is surprised at Jessica’s presence. Jessica says she’s on Beth’s side and is sorry for neglecting her lately. Beth is being bratty about it, accusing their mother for making Jessica say it and complaining about Jessica being “Ms Popular” now, but Jessica just smiles and wishes her goodnight.

It’s a pretty sweet moment, I’d say.

Jessica goes back to her room and has a bout of paranoia causing her to check everywhere for foreign shadows. She wonders what awaits her in the future, with the secret hour happening every day. Again, it’s a nice moment showing lingering effects of the experience.


11
10:28 A.M.
MARKS OF MIDNIGHT

Please, Nyarlathotep, the Black King from the East, the Crawling Chaos, the Soul of Outer Gods, let there be this:

I mean, marks. Jessica was bitten, and I do love me some lasting consequences.

Anyway, Jessica has breakfast with her family, and Beth tells their parents Jessica was “sleepstalking” her and gave her a speech. This is meant to embarrass Jessica.

“A speech?” Dad asked. He sat across the table in one of his sleeping
T-shirts. The shirt was emblazoned with the logo of some software company he
used to work for, the once bright colors faded. His hair was scruffy, and he
hadn’t shaved for a couple of days.

Mom was eating standing up, already dressed for work in a two-piece suit, the
collar of her blouse blindingly white in the sunlit kitchen. She’d never dressed
up this much for work in Chicago, but Jessica guessed she was trying to impress
her new bosses. Mom had never worked on Saturday before, either. “Why couldn’t
you sleep?”

I am kinda unsure about what to say regarding parents’ characterization and the roles they play here, but I felt like putting it here anyway.

“Her hands
still had faint red marks on the palms, and she had a bruise on the hand the
slither had bitten.”

Sigh. I guess it’s a no to cursed arm?

 “Of course, there was still the barest chance that it had all been a dream,
complete with sleepwalking and sleep-fence-climbing.” FFFFFFFFF! I would note that every time Jessica was making references to all of that being a dream, I was slipping into Eridan’s quirk typing and had to fix it later. This is not a good sign. “She would be checking that
possibility in a couple of hours.” That, at least, is reassuring. Certainly, the book wouldn’t pull some kind of miscommunication error to make it look like Midnighters didn’t come, making Jessica believe again in her dream theory, right?

Right?

Anyway, Jessica explains to her parents that she just wanted to show Beth her support, their praise her, she’s embarrassed. Her mother leaves, so she and her father relocate their breakfast closer to the TV. After Jessica finishes, Beth volunteers to get her plate to the sink. So far, I am rather liking those family moments. It’s nice to see a protagonist with meaningful and developed connections beyond the group of special people.

The father tells them they really should do some unpacking, but Jessica says she has to be at the museum soon for homework. Her father is surprised she already has homework on her first week. Err, Jessica, let me introduce you to the concept called “you should tell the truth when lies are unnecessary, it helps to keep them straight.” I mean, what, is her father going to forbid her from hanging out with new acquaintances or something? I don’t yet begrudge her not telling her parents about the secret hour much because she wouldn’t be able to prove it until midnight anyway, and there isn’t much they can do for her, but lying about meeting Midnighters is kinda bizarre, especially since we don’t her any explanation as to why she would do it, it’s just presented as something obvious to do.

Also,

“Homework already?” Dad asked. “Back in my day you didn’t get any homework
the first week. You were just supposed to hang out for a while, then they’d
slowly reintroduce the concept of work.”

“So not much has changed for you, has it, Dad?” said Beth.”

Ouch. So far Beth was just bratty as young kids tend to be, especially with sudden changes around them, but that’s a pretty low blow.

Jessica retraces her path from the secret hour, stopping near the house with the fence she climbed. She looks at the gouges left on a tree by the panther and traces them with her fingers. An old woman living in the house shouts at her from a window, then walks outside to chase her from the lawn.

“An old woman emerged from the house, wearing only a wispy nightgown that
clung to her frail frame in the light breeze. She was clutching something to her
chest, a long, thin object that glimmered in the sun.

“Get away from my house,” the woman shouted in a voice that was bigger than
her tiny body.

“Okay, sorry.” Jess started to pedal away.

“And don’t come back tonight either,” a final shout followed her down the
street.”

Pretty sure it’s foreshadowing for the next book. Or the book after that, don’t remember precisely.

We are reminded once again that Jessica hates to be late, so she harries to the museum.

12
11:51 A.M.
ARROWHEADS

Midnighters travel to the museum by car. Melissa drives again despite being distracted by people’s thoughts. Would be nice to address it. Is it some kind of rebellion against the sucky aspects of her power? Like, does she try to prove to herself it’s not going to define her life by driving despite the troubles? Well, I’m going to read it like that unless there is a contradiction somewhere.

On their way, they discuss Jessica and what power she may have. We get the names for the powers of the group: polymath for Dess (naturally, being good at math, her parents were letting her to do taxes for them since she was eleven), mindcaster for Melissa, seer for Rex (probably. It isn’t said outright that’s what his power is called, but he was the one to bring it up, and it fits with what he seems to do) and acrobat for an unnamed person, in which case, according to the book, Jessica would be a “replacement.”. Melissa and Dess insist she doesn’t have their talents, while Rex is more hopeful about it. He doesn’t argue the point, though, and just says there are many more talents than the four they’ve seen, and Jessica could be anything. Melissa points out she could be nothing because I guess she doesn’t want to let a mundie into their secret goth club.

They walk into the museum, and the woman in charge of the tickets is new. She doesn’t like their look, but she can’t find anything wrong with Rex’s membership card, so she just warns them to watch themselves. That a man, Dr. Anton Sherwood, arrives and greets them, clearly being fond of the gang and calling them Arrowheads. Apparently, Midnighters gave some stuff to the museum before. Rex chats with him for a bit, asking if there is anything new. Doctor tells him about some new findings. He leaves, and Midnighters go into the museum, Rex casting a smile at the woman.

The scene is obviously a part of “being special” fantasy, not unlike those antisocial geniuses that became popular on TV lately. It’s a fantasy of being different and judged harshly for it, but being better for it, being so good at what you do, you can disregard what other people think and being accepted by people who really matter. As such fantasies go, it’s very mild, though, so I don’t begrudge it. A lot of teenagers probably were in a similar situation, being judged for being teenagers, and watching people being put in their place for it is incredibly appealing. Midnighters weren’t dicks about it, and, in fact, were rewarded for being enthusiastic about history and cooperating with a scientist, so it remains a harmless little wish-fulfillment.

Certainly, I’ve seen much worse examples of a similar idea. I’ve read that one fic where an incredibly shady person walks into a hotel and gets told there are no rooms available. It’s not clarified, but from the context it’s clear the readers are supposed to think there are, in fact, free rooms, and the receptionist is just being a dick due to the protagonist’s appearance. So, the protagonist scares the shit out of the receptionist by showing him crazy eyes (as in, eyes of unusual color, no whites) and threatening bodily harm. So, he gets the room. For some strange reason, the receptionist doesn’t then call the cops.

The abundance of that stuff, especially among amateur writings, is probably the main reason why I’m leery so far about the concept of Midnighters, even though in this book the concept is actually executed reasonably well.

They meet with Jessica, who’s already in the museum, and start another round of exposition. Important points:

– Monsters are afraid of new new things, especially steel alloys:

“They used to be afraid of cut stone,” Rex said. “Then forged metals: bronze
and iron. But gradually they got used to them. Steel is newer.”

OK, it’s an old and sound logic. Iron represents civilization, an antithesis of the wilderness of fairies and other such monsters, so they hate it. But by that logic, wouldn’t they be afraid even more of plastic and other artificial materials that don’t exist in nature? They are even specifically OK with gold and silver since those elements can be found in Earth crust, so it’s not metals specifically. And they were afraid of cut stone, so it’s specifically man-made stuff they hate.

Normally, I would say steel is better simply because it’s easier to make something dangerous out of it, but the stuff is imbued with power of frying monsters anyway, so it’s not really an issue here. Even a coin was turned into a weapon.

Somebody should dress in synthetic clothes and go full Leeroy Jenkins on those monsters, is what I’m saying.

– Monsters are also afraid of certain numbers and patterns, especially of the number thirteen, hence the plaques with thirteen-point stars everywhere. A word with thirteen letters is necessary to imbue an object with power to scare them.

“Just remember to always keep a fresh tridecalogism in your mind.”

“A fresh what?”

“Tridecalogism is a thirteen-letter word that means ‘thirteen-letter
word,’ ” Dess said, grinning happily.

“Really?”

“Well, I kind of made it up myself. So don’t try to use it to protect
yourself. And remember, when you actually use a tridecalogism on a darkling,
make sure you come up with a fresh one for the next night.”

OK, how does that work? What makes the word “real?” Does it need to be acknowledged by a dictionary? Used by a certain number of people? We come up with new words all the time, especially in science. When do they start to count for mythic purposes? And while we’re on topic, how do monsters even know there are thirteen letters in a word? English is full of silent letters and combinations of letters that are pronounced as one sound. Some of those words have a different number of letters when they get borrowed by other languages. Wouldn’t it make more sense to use words with thirteen syllables? Or is it your own knowledge of how the word is written that makes it work? But the latter can’t be right since Jessica is unlikely to count the letters in “psychosomatic.”

OK, so, so far the setting operates on intuitive rules different from the logic of the world. I can actually dig it. Since the kids have only limited knowledge, we can assume there are some underlying principles guiding it all that are unknown to us. Even though we don’t know enough to make sense of the world on a deep level, the rules are clear enough to operate, they are clear enough to serve in conflict resolution, which is pretty much all you can really ask from magic.

For now. We’ll return to the topic later, when the book introduces… Another concept. For now, back to the exposition.

– Stuff disturbed during midnight changes forever and can’t be used against monsters anymore, so Midnighters have to constantly hunt for new stuff to turn into weapons. It’s said that such stuff becomes a part of the midnight world, though it’s not clarified if it means it isn’t frozen or what.

– Rex is a seer after all. He asks Jessica to go to a row of spearheads and arrowheads and see if she can spot a difference between them, since one of the spears had killed a darkling long ago. Jessica can’t, and Rex is disappointed he can’t share his responsibility with her, but tries not to show it.

I should say, I like that character moment breaking up the exposition. Makes it more interesting.

– Long ago, darklings roamed the land freely, hunting humans for food.

Jessica shivered. “What a nightmare.”

“Exactly,” Rex said. A small group of tourists was descending the ramp, and
he lowered his voice. “Imagine wondering every night if they would be coming to
feed. Imagine having no way to stop them. They were the original nightmares,
Jessica. Every monster in folklore, every mythological monster, even our
instinctive fear of the darkness, they’re all based on ancient memories of
darklings.”

So… there are darklings who are toddler vampires that suck blood from people’s toes when they sleep? Look, folklore can be weird, especially once you move out of European legends. Well, at least that gives me hope for a skinwalker or something else humanoid lurking around.

– Bixby is the only place with the secret hour Midnighters know about. Even twenty miles away from the town the phenomenon doesn’t exist.

– Humans gradually discovered ways to protect themselves and slowly won against darklings.

“Ideas? Scared that thing?” She looked across the room at the darkling
skeleton.

“New tools, like forged metal and alloys,” Dess said. “And new concepts, like
mathematics. And the darklings were always afraid of the light.”

New concepts? Did the concept of agriculture or domesticated animals scared them too, I wonder? Can you defeat them with Marx’s Capital? Well, you probably can even without mythic powers, the book is huge.

In short, the exposition is at best hyperbolic. The darklings obviously aren’t scared of new concepts in general, they aren’t even scared of math, especially since they seem to have an affinity for the number twelve. They are scared of the number thirteen and variations, they are scared of new tools of war and related things. That seems like a more correct information judging from what we see.

– Monsters are scared of light, but it doesn’t exist in the secret hour. Electricity, fire, neon light – it’s impossible to start those. And the light that’s already present, like frozen lightnings, apparently doesn’t count. The blue light presumably also just fine as far as darklings are concerned.

That, again, goes back to the “how does it even work?” issue. You kinda need electricity to survive since your brain uses it. Strictly speaking, there is no difference between the biological functions of your organism and technology. Both operate on the same underlying principals. So, no, electricity exist in the secret hour, the only problem is to find a way to use it outside of your body.

Damn, where are Matrix machines when you need them? Lazy bums, no wonder we wedged war against them.

– The secret hour was created by darklings as a sanctuary against fire and weapons.


“The lore says that they took one hour from the day and collapsed
it down to an instant so that human beings couldn’t see it anymore.”

So, once upon a time, there were 25 hours in a day. Pretty sure something like that would majorly fuck up the climate. If before the world-building problems were about microcosm not being accounted for, now we move onto macrocosm. When you think about the rotations of planets, well, an hour suddenly disappearing should be noticeable, I’d think.

Anyway, with that the exposition ends. Dess tests Jessica once again to see if she’s any good at math by asking how many seconds there are in a day. It’s not actually a hard question and can be done mentally if you have a minute to think, but Jessica just shrugs and says, “A lot.”

Melissa seems weirdly pleasant and murmurs, “Tastes like…
vanilla.” in a way that only Rex can hear. It’s a callback to when she said Jessica isn’t a mindcaster because then she would have tasted it.


On that cheerful note, the chapter ends. Tune in next time for an unnecessary romantic subplot.