Bryan's Arc

Chapter 12 of 21

The case sat by the door, sealed and ready. Bryan poured a glass of water and tried to feel done. Then his phone lit up. A new message from his old mentor. One line, public-tagged in the main server: "I know this piece. I know the hand. Claim it now, Bryan, or I will." Below it sat a screenshot of his winning model, glowing under a lamp he recognized as his own. Bryan sat down. He opened the case and turned the miniature over. On the underside of one foot, in tiny letters he had painted years ago out of habit, sat his own name. A signature he had forgotten he left. He typed back one line: "It's yours to name. I gave it up." He hit send and watched the channel fill with his mentor's claim, photo after photo, the hand credited at last — just not his. Bryan closed the case. The piece belonged to someone else now, and he had let it happen with his own thumb. The channel kept loading. His mentor had brought receipts. A long string of clipped photos unspooled across the feed like a garland of past space marines, each one a piece Bryan had posted over the years. Brush strokes circled in red. Glow patterns matched side by side. Bryan stared at his own history laid out as proof for another man's claim. He muted the server, set the phone down, and slid the sealed case under the desk where the lamp could not reach it. The win was still coming. It just had someone else's hand on it now, and he had signed that over himself. A new post pinned to the top of the server. A bright spotlight render of a space marine, captioned with his mentor's name and the words REVEAL TOMORROW. Bryan picked up the miniature one last time. He pressed his thumb over the painted signature on its foot until the warmth of his skin made the paint feel soft. Then he set it back in the case and clicked the latch. The signature would ride to the show under another man's flag. Bryan had answered the demand by stepping aside. The piece was out of his hands now, and so was the name that would stand beside it.