“Is this some kind of joke?” he mutters to himself, his voice echoing in the dim, hollow room. The place barely resembles a museum, feeling more like a neglected storage closet. Charcoal-painted walls swallow up the sparse lighting and seem to cast everything in an eerie glow.

At the center of the tiny room, under a single, narrow spotlight, sits a flimsy folding table that carries a single object—a metallic cylinder, about the length of his forearm. Its shape, along with its matte silver and black finish, give the impression of a crude flashlight, clearly lacking any obvious historical value.

Decision made, he starts to pivot to request a much deserved refund, when a light suddenly pulses from behind him. It’s accompanied by a low, vibrating hum that reverberates through the floor. He freezes and glances back. The cylinder is no longer just an inert hunk of metal. Now, under the new light, it seems to glow from within—a faint, pulsating blue aura. Intrigued, he takes a step closer, unable to shake the sense that the object is… watching him back.

He freezes, trying to remember how he got here. Coming up empty and desperate to make some sense of this experience, he reaches out slowly, fingers hovering above the object’s surface. As he does this, the hum intensifies until it’s steady, almost like a heartbeat. He senses a charge in the air, thick with something he can’t quite name. Then he hears it—a voice, soft yet unmistakable.

He recoils, breath catching in his throat. His sister? But how, why here? Confusion starts to give way to fear as the voice grows louder, more urgent, resonating through his mind. His hand trembles as he inches closer to the cylinder.

Then it happens. He feels a surge of warmth the moment his fingers brush its surface—a rush of energy shooting up his arm, filling him with a sense of calm. Of clarity,

The room begins to blur and then…

Luke wakes up.

He blinks awake, breathless, the sense of her presence lingering like an echo in his mind. Looking to his left, he stretches out both arms and sees a single person dressed in white armor—an imperial stormtrooper he recalls—holding a blaster rifle… at his head. And firing.

Several things happen at once. Red plasma bolts careen toward him, missing him by mere inches in all directions. His right hand jolts when his weapon, the fancy flashlight from the table—his lightsaber—jumps into his hand. And his left hand, extending towards the enemy, raises a middle finger.

After a pause in the fiery barrage, Luke gets up from the ground in a backwards roll, ignites his weapon, and slices the approaching stormtrooper in half.

He then sees his sister, Leia, and…

He is back… in the “museum”. He right hand is grasping the flashlight and there is a distinct blue beam extending from it. On the ground to his left is an imperial stormtrooper. On his right… the other half.

Luke retracts the beam and places the weapon back on the table. He exits the small room and passes by a figure shrouded in black. As he walks by him, giving a thumbs up at the guy who sold him the ticket, the mysterious figure, clears his throat:

_Don’t forget to leave a good review on Yelp._