Table Of Contents
Prologue
The Homecoming
When time ceases to be time, it is easy to lose yourself. We measure our lives in numbers, hours, days, months, years; but we know that there is an end, and it is always moving forward. What would you do if you were given infinity? Would you still be you after the end that did not come?
I lost myself some time ago. Unborn to the world, stashed away, placed on pause. All time converged inside the abyss, past, present, and future.
Each deliberate exhalation raised and lowered my chest as the cool darkness carried me to unknown shores.
A rekindling of sensation jolted through my veins, combating ages of stillness with an unexpected fervor. The distant echo of footsteps ricocheted off the tiled surfaces, coursing through the once dormant tendrils of my consciousness and reigniting the pulse of existence within me. As my fingers coiled into a fist to assert a haptic affirmation of this reality, a rush of air forced its way past my lips—my first breath was a plunge into a sea of remembrance where remorse swam alongside murky confusion.
Like a vault unsealed after millennia, my eyelids drew back to reveal a realm of sterile luminosity. A torrent of light cascaded through the glass, imitating earthly daylight in this off-world environment, clearing the remnants of a cognition-ridden slumber. The soundtrack of this awakening was underscored by the amplified patter of footsteps—each echoed clip announcing my return.
My hair, the color of pitch, floated about, assuming the grace of aquatic flora in this nebulous medium. Laced within the capsule, I sensed a discordance—the entity beyond the glass. Its resemblance to the human form was obvious, yet its eerie mechanical movements were akin to a faux replication. The metallic monstrosity was riddled with cables and cords, its garb tarnished by time and use. Its daunting presence turned my curiosity into dread.
A panicked yelp slipped past my lips, accompanying my rippling shock as the uncannily human-like face of another robotic entity entered the scene. The sickeningly artificial visage, comparable to a poorly manufactured disguise, clawed at my claustrophobic inclinations like a predator with a cornered prey. I was trapped, helpless, caught in the gaze of these alien contrivances.
Imprisoned within what felt like a membranous cocoon, I became acutely aware of my surroundings. I was in a stretcher-like apparatus, encapsulated within a fluid quite capable of replacing air. A mechanical voice cursed through the permeating solution, delivering a chilling statement: “She shouldn’t be awake,” whose cold, calculated tonality was incongruously matched by its eerie artificiality.
“Stay quiet,” commanded another alien voice, its timbre vibrating with a deeper, more machine-like rhythm. Anxious not to provoke my jailers, my breath stilled. Time stretched out, taut, its unforgiving cadence matching the whirring hum of their aging mechanical cores. The whisper grew, “They’ve spotted us,” breaking the suspenseful silence.
A blood-curdling scream tore through the darkness, tracing goosebumps across my skin in skittering sequences, turning my private space into a den of the absurd. As the ghouls from my worst nightmares sprung to horrifying life, replacing the melancholic silence with a violent orchestral chaos of shrieks and gunfire, terror had me coiled tightly until I became a ball of huddled fear. I was on the precipice of carnage, an inch of glass separating my reality from the macabre world unfolding beyond.
I strained to shut out the impending horror, my hands tight over my ears trying to drown out the pulverizing onslaught of monstrous creatures whose grotesque bodies were as foul as their deafening screams. My entire body vibrated with each rhythmic machine gun discharge, blood splattering onto my transparent enclosure like a painter’s violent brushstrokes on a canvas.
In the revelry of this gruesome spectacle, I could discern three mechanical soldiers equipped with chainsaws and rifles, their presence intensifying my surge of terror exponentially. Their foe was the very stuff of nightmares—an array of ghastly aberrations that squirmed and squealed, their hunger for flesh and blood mirroring my fear-stricken countenance in disturbing detail. Despite my desperate attempts to repel the horrifying images by physically pushing against the glass, my efforts merely ushered in a sense of inescapable purgatory – the veil of dreamy nothingness constricting to the cold collar of a gruesome reality.
Tugged back into the maelstrom, my container, my false sanctuary, tremored. The android soldiers were on the move, rifles poised over the cart, firing indiscriminately at the snarling, charging horde of grotesqueries. To my dawning horror, my prison on wheels was spiralling towards some monstrous rendezvous. My futile, muffled pleas for mercy went unanswered, my screams lost in the otherworldly cacophony. As the soldier-automatons plowed forward, I faced the merciless smiles beneath their plastic masks once more.
In the apocalyptic inferno, I noticed the absence of a fellow soldier. A robotic call of “309!” echoed amidst the chaos, revealing deeper human-like bonds than I had previously discerned. They moved, cutting through monstrous bodies like scythes in a grotesque field of nightmare-crop, motivated to rescue their fallen comrade. My mind pieced together the fragments of a dismembered soldier—a mechanized martyr—and the sight elicited an impassioned wail that rippled through the hostile fluid.
However, was it sheer robotic programming or a messianic impulse that had them defending and advancing? My mind, whirring in a cyclone of dread and intrigue, struggled to find a foothold in the chaotic spiral. The vistas of a blood-drenched battleground housed in a sterile, futuristic environment amalgamated to form an uncomprehending symphony of terror and intrigue—a composition so perverse, no nocturnal revelry could hold a candle to it.
Gradually, my range of view was obscured by a deluge of blood; a macabre curtain drawing close on the ghastly spectacle. The obscured viewport both comforted and heightened my anxious anticipation of the horrors yet to unveil. One of the androids, meanwhile, was engaged in the grotesque task of sifting through their martyred comrade’s carcass, retrieving a small data card amidst splintered metal and synthetic flesh.
Triumph blared past the artificial vocal cords, “I got it!” the machine bellowed, in incongruous celebration.
The android stationed next to my capsule announced the imminent plan in a voice that vibrated with feminine undertones. “There is an elevator shaft ahead. Our pathway to the roof lies ahead. Start the attachment process.” In spite of their shared identity, the androids bore the patina of countless battles in varying degrees, splatters of otherwordly rust distinctly marking each entity.
Though my view was tainted by the bloody canvas, I could discern the macabre remains of the horrid creatures, their twitching remnants akin to a hideous quagmire of gore. A serpentine intricacy of colorful cords sprung amidst the gore-filled wreckage, stitching lifeless slabs of meat back into place. To my dread, we seemed to approach the tower of shredded remaining parts clinging onto the androids.
Resolute and unfazed, the mechanical soldiers bore through the gruesome resistance, pushing me into the shelter of the elevator. A surge of blue light engulfed the capsule and my mechanical guards as we embarked on our ascent. With rapid haste, we rose through the vertical tomb, the azure radiance flooding the entire elevator.
Our elevated platform came to a halt, replaced by the brooding expanse of an iron-rusted sky casting its somber glow over the decaying cityscape. The skeletal remains of towering structures stood draped in the overgrown tendrils of nature’s reclaimed territories. An alien vessel perched on a launching pad, its large wing-like extensions suggesting a flying machine, though I couldn’t be certain.
Drenched in coagulated blood, two more androids emerged from the elevator shaft, ghastly crimson trails tracing their path. Their gory appearance did little to hide their satisfaction as they navigated through the crimson mess towards the vessel.
A voice, distinctly human, struck me like an electric charge. “You found one.” The words reverberated in my hollowed chamber, causing me to press my face against the blood-smeared window in an attempt to catch a glimpse. My heart thrummed an erractic rhythm as the androids hauled me towards the awaiting craft. Observing my would-be captor yielded no clear image, the darkness acting as a frustrating veil.
“What condition does it seem to be in?” the man’s voice echoed with curiosity.
“It’s awake,” came the brief and robotic response.
My container rattled as it was stationed next to a luxurious white suit, manifesting a stark contrast to the organic horror of my immediate surroundings. “We cannot have that,” the man replied, his voice tinged with disapproval. Yet, an undertone of fascination danced on his lips, “My, isn’t she magnificent?” His eyes peered at me tenderly, hidden behind a reflective visor.
Panic swelled within me once more, compelling me to slam my palms against the confines of my capsule. “Help me, let me out!” I pleaded, encountering only an emotionless veneer in response. Unable to fathom his desensitivity to my plight, I felt violated under his scrutinizing and dehumanizing gaze. His apathy ignited more questions, “Why are you doing this to me? What am I doing here? Who am I?” As my confusion mounted, the capsule’s vents issued a soft hiss before a crystalline gas permeated the fluid environment.
A rush of chill pervaded the interior as a white, fluffy cloud erupted from a small vent above, carrying with it a nauseous stench that made me retch. A paralyzed gasp filled my lungs while a scream clawed its way up my throat, but my chest wouldn’t seize it; it fell back down in surrender, emerging as a stifled moan.
My futile attempts to resist were materializing as knee-jerk convulsions within the milky emulsion. The world seemed to take a heavy gravity upon me, dragging me into a sinking abyss. The enemy was too strong; my weak protests against the glass had fallen on deaf ears and I realized I was on the losing end. Consumed by exhaustion, my body relinquished control and surrendered to an unbearable pressure. As the weight above crushed me into a state of defeated surrender, a curtain of darkness cascaded over my consciousness, and the act of my nightmarish reality abruptly drew to a close for its intermission: a return to oblivion.
“So, she is asleep. Just like that?” The android knighted as my aide quizzed—the assembly of gunmetal shrouded in a humanoid, masculine physique betrayed his dispassionate digital nature. His head was a rectangle frame harboring a lapis lazuli sheen, a design that was reminiscent of a pistol’s silhouette. His grim visage was devoid of any vanity, the artificial mask dangling redundant, revealing a mechanical face born of mismatched scraps and infinite cables. His black shell was etched through the ages, scrapes, scratches, and worn-off model numbers writing the history of an entity of synthetic origin.
A sweet burst of child-like exhilaration grew within me as I looked at the grime and bloodstained container, housing a dream I had dreamt for countless years. I nodded towards my aide’s observation, my gaze unwavering from the precious find. “Indeed, she is,” I muttered, my voice a tantalizing blend of acknowledged disbelief and marvel. I scanned the rust-eaten interior of the cargo carrier—shabbily stationed in the memory of a past glory. The sight was a stark reminder of the successful mission that they had embarked upon, but also of a shortfall. Though I had commissioned a squad of five, the rendezvous was attended by a short-handed party of four.
“I notice there are only four of you present. I apologize for overlooking the apparent loss.” My voice echoed in the hollow expanse, meeting an unexpected revelation from the machine.
“309 will live again, just like your girl,” he retorted, producing a small rectangular chip from his blood-darkened chassis. “We need to refurbish his form. That’s your lookout.”
Insult punctuated his words, and my reply was steeped in bitterness. “So you make your error my responsibility, do you? Why should I clean up your mess? I contracted you for retrieval, not refurbishing your decayed bodies. Every task comes with its risks. If you didn’t account for that, it’s your own negligence.”
The android’s reticle tightened its focus on me—a disapproving glare held me in its trance—a mirror reflecting my own tension. With the advancing hum of motors, the hangar doors ascended, manifesting the android’s threat—not a negotiation but an ultimatum. My breath hitched as I locked eyes with the abyss beyond the yawning hangar doors. Struck by a sudden vertigo at the precipice of an unsolicited dive, I felt the precarious edge of my brave front—ever so semblance—starting to crumble.
“Wait! Stop!” My plea reverberated through the space before desperation crumbled my defiance. “We can negotiate.” I felt the prickle of defeat as the doors of the ship began their closure. Trapped in a precarious position of unwanted compromise, bitterness stained my tongue. “I should have foreseen this. I regret to inform you that our colony lacks military-grade android parts. Would a trade suffice? Something of equal value perhaps?”
“Seeds,” the android replied unflinchingly. “We’ll need more seeds.”
Resisting the impulse to scoff, I shook my head at the absurdity of the situation—I, a beholder of a forgotten era, negotiating with androids, synthetic beings assumed to be our subordinates, now driving a hard bargain. Pondering over their peculiar demand, I found myself grappling with a rising swell of curiosity. Seeds, with no land for cultivation, and to artificial beings, which held no biological necessities—what purpose could they possibly serve? “Why seeds?” I found myself inquiring.
“Unmodified seeds, they hold an invaluable place in this world. They defy manufacturing, existing in a world where artifice dominates. Our mission is to revert the world to its former glory, before this pervasive decay ensued, unlike our counterparts in the empire.” The android’s voice rang out, a startling mix of robotic rationality and unnatural conviction.
A cynical chuckle rose at the back of my throat but I swallowed it back, not willing to antagonise my robotic counterpart any further—”The world, healed by the hands of mechanical Samaritans,” I thought, the irony tasted bitter. Out loud, I muttered, “Well then, good luck with that.” Sidestepping my disbelieving thoughts, I veered back towards the capsule—I peered through the glass at the sleeping girl, the canvas of her fair skin glowing softly—our hope, our salvation.
Our journey ferried us across the relic-sculpted ruins of a bygone metropolis, its once-thrumming city heart lay fallen into rotten slumber. The vessel stirred the lament of forgotten ghosts through air that tasted of emptiness, as we voyaged over an ocean as desolate as the sky, negotiated treacherous mountain passes and journeyed over fields soaking in their own decaying sinew. Our destination: A haunted wasteland, a desert of hollow structures looming like skeletal spectres in the distance.
As we touched down, the earth beneath our ship yawned open to reveal a clandestine hangar, an underworld of secrets. On the landing dock, two silhouettes awaited our arrival – Vanity, a young woman crowned in raven locks, and her senior, Doctor Hellibor Winters. As the ship’s gates slid open, offering her first glimpse of our ark, Vanity’s voice rang clear as a crystal bell “They did it!” The echo of her triumph resonated even within our metallic confines.
“Brilliant. I knew we could place our faith in them”, Hellibor replied in his habitual snarled tone, his stoic composure stark against Vanity’s effervescence.
The moment I emerged from the dock, his gruff voice volleyed another command, “Fetch me the containment chamber”. Though still swimming in the relief of return, his words pulled me under like a riptide.
“Something went awry,” I admitted, a reluctant bearer of bad news. “We need to grease the androids’ palms a little more before they hand over the girl”.
Hellibor’s response was a low growl, a warning echo against the hollowed wall of the hangar. I could almost taste the promise of fallout in that sound. Shifting his gaze to Vanity, he signalled, “Vanity, get another seed and give it to Brainer to feed the swine”.
“Affirmative, Doctor Hellibor,” Vanity replied, an invisible shroud of formality woven around her words. Her leaving was a dance, her gait a sensual ripple that stirred the only sliver of pleasure that could be scavenged from our rotting world.
“So, you caught a specimen,” Hellibor grunted, as we observed the machinery conducting their pre-flight ritual.
“As you’d desired, a girl. We met a hiccup along the way though – she woke up during extraction. The ark’s seal was breached,” I confessed, hands clammy with dreaded anticipation inside my suit.
“To hell with it,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “If she was infected, contamination wouldn’t harm her”.
“They even plotted to toss me overboard. They might’ve done the same to her as leverage for additional payment,” I revealed the hard truth. Hellibor, patting my back as though to assuage the shock, seemed as much taken aback by this display of humanity as I was. That touch, alien in its rarity, was quickly withdrawn under the shared realization of its unnaturalness.
Vanity returned clutching test tubes. “Two seeds,” she sang, offering the scant specimens to me. “Still chilled,” she added, as though temperature affected our impending transaction.
Scepticism stirred in my guts as I clutched the vials. “They’ll scorn this, they’ll perceive it as mockery.” The thought reverberated in my mind. “Two seeds for what they’ve done? It’s a pittance!” Their contract had not stipulated a specific quantity, but we were definitely skirting our responsibility. “All you have for them are these?” I questioned, doubts layered in my tone.
His self-assured nod answered my fears. As we walked toward the hangar to honour our debt, “where is the rest of our payment?” enquired the android, giant-like, looming over the edge.
“That’s it. One person, one seed. I generously provided you with two, considering your demand for double,” Hellibor boomed with an authority that tided over any thoughts of negotiation.
“Your humor fails to amuse me,” the android retorted. It laughed, a mechanical cacophony that jarred the echoes of our anxiety, “This girl has more value to you than those seeds. If your game of negotiations continues, I’ll crush her and endure the loss.” Our masks of bravado crumbled, revealing the fear that glistened beneath them. Hellibor’s face, although stoic, betrayed a hint of vulnerability, a flicker ignited by the android’s words.
The truth was stark: we needed her more than the androids craved our seeds. Years of hunting for a staunched specimen had led us to her. Just an arm’s length away from our goal, the obstinate pride shackling Hellibor was all we had to surrender. “How many do you want?”
“As many seeds as you hide in that warm womb of your sanctuary,” the android demanded.
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