Perhaps Reborn
Author: Nomistrav
Original post: https://elysianechoes.blogspot.com/2016/10/perhaps-reborn.html
Entry for the YC116 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest in the Eight Thousand Suns in New Eden category.
Even the most hardened individuals are still capable of compassion when confronted with something novel. Anneyo realized this first hand with the man, who after a long battle against his affliction had resigned himself to what was essentially medical life support. Unconscious, but still alive with the assistance of contraptions that made Anneyo squeamish every time she saw him.
The room was dark, only illuminated by a single bright light that shone down over the man’s form who was now more machine than flesh. Securely fastened into a metal frame, the man was immobile. A dull hum gently pulsing throughout the room every few seconds that conveniently eliminated the eerie ring of silence.
Before cascading into his abrupt final stages, the man had implored that she do everything in her power to keep him alive as long as possible, regardless of how much he plead toward the end. As expected, he did plead as the final stages of the disease worsened, as if craving his inevitable death.
System Name:\ 00GD-D Region:\ Fountain Security Level:\ 0.0 Sovereignty:\ CONTESTED
“Brigand Five, you’re going to start seeing a light show pretty soon if you don’t adjust your course!”
The words echoed in Anneyo’s helmet through her panicked breaths as she flicked several toggles in an attempt to defy the inevitable. As the walls of the craft grew warmer, the sight of a gargantuan green continent beneath thick cloud systems had begun to fill her screen. The details of a spider-webbed network of rivers had grown less vague as each second passed.
An ember quickly became an inferno that was enveloping the Gallentean vessel. A glorious glow of fire combined with a dull humming sound that grew in volume as turbulence rocked her ship violently. Trembling, adrenaline rushed hands flipped a switch marked in yellow and black stripes, igniting the external fire control mechanisms. Simultaneously she activated damage control systems in an effort to cool down the rapidly heating fuselage.
Klaxon alarms heralded her danger, followed by the damage assessments from the on-board computers, which screamed in her ears that something was awry. Pieces of the frigate broke and burned away in the smoke trail that followed behind the ship as it hurtled through the atmosphere. The capsuleer operating the craft had ejected from the ship several minutes prior, leaving her behind.
“Stand by for PTI. Brigand One-through-Twelve adjust for parallax and engage the Abaddon, call sign ‘Victim’s Deceit’.” “Confirmed, Command. Scratch Brigand Five from the marker, we’ve lost contact.”
Anneyo shook her head and barked into her half-faced helmet with fervor, “I am still here. I’ve lost propulsion, requesting immediate evacuation on my emergency signal.”
“Confirmed, Brigand Actual, scratching Brigand Five from tally. We will have a secondary ship on replacement at the rendezvous. Continue with engagement order.”
A small crack had formed at the corner of the crystalline silicate shell that provided the cockpit a view port. It did not take her long to realize that the pressure difference inside of the ship was clashing with that of the atmosphere she was burning into. Before she had the opportunity to prevent it the cabin exploded outward forcefully, her head being pinned back against the seat from the sudden rush of air and soon her vision had grown dark.
The smell of burning metal was the first thing that Anneyo had experienced upon regaining consciousness. The gentle lapping of her tongue moistened her dry and cracked lips. She could taste the coppery tang of blood on a small split in the tender flesh. The visor of her helmet had shattered, obstructing her view of the wreckage. She shifted in place to try to free herself from the fastenings that kept her in her seat but received a sudden wave of pain in return.
Her scream had frightened the local wildlife, which scattered as if roaches exposed to light in a dark room. Insects had ceased their calls and so did the birds. Regaining her composure, she looked down to the source of the pain that originated from her leg. Dried blood had caked inside of her suit and stained the material. Using that and the familiar deep ache as clues she had gained an impression that she had either fractured of broken the bone.
Anneyo had begun scanning the rest of her body to assess the damage she had taken on from surviving the crash. Beyond the extensive damage to her leg, she only had taken on scrapes and bruises. She freed herself of the broken helmet and began to crawl out of the twisted carcass that was her ship, however painful.
The gravity on the planet was different from what she was used to onboard ships and stations, as she had not been groundside in several months at least. A lengthy stare at the side of the wreckage as she crawled out showed the torn homage to her alliance: The Daedalus Conglomerate. A namesake honored by a logo – painted on the craft’s hull - of a man with wings holding a blade in one hand and farming tool in the other.
The staccato of rainwater pattering around her formed an almost soothing experience. She glanced around her surroundings to assess where she had crashed, quickly noticing that the region was a dense jungle beyond the blackened char that was left over from her abrupt landing. Were it not for the alien appearance of the flora and fauna, it would have been a stark reminder of her home: Intaki Prime. From what she could see, the ship she had been appointed to was scattered across the brush and foliage. Some segments still molten or ablaze.
The clouds above grew darker with the light of the system’s star peering through the heavy moisture in the air in blurry rays. The formations of the clouds were tight and bunched together, giving the telltale signs of an oncoming monsoon. Lightning had jumped across the sky in the distance with the gentle boom of thunder following several seconds later. The wind briskly moved an easterly motion, toward Anneyo. The clearing in the skies farther to the East revealed twin moons that slowly disappeared behind cloud cover as time passed.
The Intaki woman lifted her hand and pinched the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes tightly in consideration of the negative evaluation. Limited in the scope of her training – survival, in particular – she had measured the scenario for what it was: grim. The first objective she had to focus herself on was shelter.
Several hours had passed and nightfall had brought on an increased intensity of the storm. Anneyo had managed to crawl some distance from the wreckage, finding shelter underneath a slight overhang of compacted dirt and rock. It had not been as fruitful as she would have liked, much to her dismay with the rainwater rushing along the exposed roots above her head in the small hollow.
The woman’s suit had been mottled with smeared mud spread over her legs especially from where she had crawled. She had wrapped her shivering arms around her knees, her head held low between them. Her teeth began to clatter together. Anneyo's body had been trying to generate heat as compensation for the drop in temperature. The feeling in her fingers and toes absent as a result.
Her wet black hair fell into her crystal blue eyes as she moved. She lifted her damaged helmet and spoke into the communication device, still linked remotely to the damaged wreck, in another hopeless attempt to contact her corporation.
“Brigand Five to Command, requesting response.”
Several seconds had passed but to her it felt as though it were an eternity. She dropped the helmet to the ground below with a soggy plop before burying her face into her hands. Her shoulders tensed, sliding her hands down her face with a heavy sigh. Water cascaded from her fingertips in streams to the soil near her boots. Her thoughts were troubled with the slightest of anxiety. For a moment, she had lost control of her emotions, overwhelmed with the thought that perhaps they had left her to die, but quickly consolidated her feelings to a more logical approach.
It was then that a sound rang out from nearby. It was unfamiliar – not like the usual bustle of rain and thunder she had become accustom to over the past several hours. Snapping her attention upward to the source, her blue eyes found themselves over a figure, clad in black, which was standing in the darkness of the nearby trees. The figure was a silhouette of a short creature, roughly human in appearance, which starred directly at her. It was barely visible behind the cast of light from a device resting on its head.
Her face wrinkled; perplexed at how she had never noticed the figure or the bright cone of light it bore. She was only able to stare back at whatever was investigating her small outcrop. To her surprise, the figure began to speak in a silken tone, “It would seem the universe has done you quite the disservice.”
Her pupils dilated with her attention now fully focused; her response was wavering and shaky, “It would seem that way. Who are you?”
“Perhaps we would find it best to consider these answers together where it is not so damp, wouldn’t you agree?”
The man lifted his hand to his head and deactivated the light attached to his temple. At that moment, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and briefly illuminated the figure’s face. In that split second of time, Anneyo had been rewarded a glimpse – rather, a memory – of a face. The man’s complexion consisted of yellow-gray skin laden with a network of veins visible beneath his near translucent flesh. At first glance, he looked like a Jovian, an enigmatic and incredibly advanced race not often seen. She considered that her mind was playing tricks against her until a second flash of light had confirmed her theory.
“What is this place?” Anneyo inquired, glancing over the building’s interior.
“The Society calls this a ‘Kitz’. Your curiosity is commendable; the pursuit of knowledge is something we thrive on.” The Jovian responded.
The structure’s architecture was almost organic but not in a way Anneyo was familiar. The Intaki were no strangers to the Gallentean designs that favored curvaceous form and aesthetic; alien by comparison to the Jovian building. Though she could not quite comprehend what exactly it was, something about the Kitz appealed to her. The proportions were ambiguous but strangely subtle in their approach, as if the not-quite perfect design was intentional.
In the center stretch of the hall was their path, a matte bronze color outlined in dim lights that flickered with each step. The hall had no windows to speak of but the sound of the storm outside was still barely audible beyond the high walls. Tall pillars extended toward the ceiling where they connected with no readily visible fastenings, as if conjoined to the structure itself.
Her suit felt heavier, weighed down by the rainwater that its synthetic material had absorbed. The woman’s boots were soaked, squelching as she followed behind the short man. Her injured leg wrapped in a metal band he had provided her. The object, beyond her understanding, relieved her suffering greatly; enough that she could walk. A pooled trail of water had followed shortly behind them as they walked through the empty grand hall, each step echoing in a solemn tone.
“Where are the rest of your people?” Anneyo asked, softly.
“Succumb to our disease, much to our misfortune. Hmm… Strange how quiet it is, now that they are gone. I had almost forgotten.”
“Forgotten what?”
“The vivacious choir of lengthy research and focused intellect. It is a magnificent sound, if one but takes a moment to listen.”
Anneyo had only then taken a moment to survey fully her guide. He was small, probably no more than four feet in height, with nary a single hair on his frame. The only outstanding feature about him was the sickly color of his flesh complementing his equally unsavory cybernetic eyes that focused in front of them. Apart from his black cloak, he only wore an equally dark jumpsuit with metallic bindings and buckles. A more complex aesthetic compared to her jumpsuit. She had the impression that these bindings, given their appearance, were similar to the one wrapped around her injured leg.
As they entered one of many adjoining rooms, the loud sound of a speaker rang to Anneyo’s ears. A giant hologram of a Jovian woman projected in the highest quality she had ever witnessed was playing in the center of an array of workstations. At first, she had mistaken that the speaker was alive until closer inspection revealed tiny flaws in the projection of its image; dust particles fluttering about through the provided light.
The Jovian man pivoted on one foot in order to face her with an upward glance. His face bereft of any expression beyond his words, “A therapy recording.”
“Therapy..?” She asked.
“Yes. I have the disease as well. Therapy and medication assist me in combating its effects but I find that proper motivation is equally as important… Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Hmm… Your curiosity is not lacking but your determination and confidence is subpar. Tell me, from where do you come?”
“I am – I was – a support technician for a capsuleer in The Daedalus Conglomerate.”
“Ah, intriguing. Yes, we have observed the use of Capsule technology since provided. An interesting, if expected use; the everlasting pursuit of power and wealth. Perhaps it is a shame that we don’t fully relate to the nature of these ambitions any longer. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Anneyo had chosen to abstain from a response to his question, perplexed by his timing. She casually walked around the room to inspect the various workstations. They consisted of biological, electronic, mechanical, and an expanse of other studies, each individually designated a theme and purpose. Despite her limited understanding, she could still sense that something was wrong, as if the air itself was heavy with for a want of redress.
The therapy session was still ongoing behind her, providing the only sound available in the room besides her spirited breathing. She was comfortable and relieved despite her circumstances. She dwelled on her thoughts for some time before providing another question, “You said, ‘The Society’ earlier. I assume you are referring to The Society of Conscious Thought. Isn’t that a school of sorts?”
“Yes, The Society does provide many an education befitting of our standards, even despite our reputation. Each approach tailored specifically for the student to assist in their development. This Kitz was reserved for broad spectrum research in a specialized field and as such we had no interest in taking on students.” He explained.
“A specialized field?”
“Yes. A cure for our disease.”
“You said earlier that the rest of your people had already died from the disease. If you’re experiencing symptoms and are taking medicine with accompanying therapy, then something doesn’t add up. I thought the disease killed quickly?”
“It is true that the disease does kill quickly and although I cannot state it as fact, I feel it takes as long as the afflicted permits it. I have undergone therapy and medication for quite some time, so I can speak from experience.”
Anneyo lingered on the thought for a moment before she retorted with her own theory, “Perhaps it’s purely hereditary and your neurological structure is preventing the production of the necessary neurochemicals?”
“An interesting theory, if a wrong one.”
“Then why does the medicine and therapy work?”
“This goes beyond mere physiological constraints, wouldn’t you agree?”
Anneyo’s brows furrowed together in response to the Jovian’s question. She was confused, as his question seemed genuine, as if they were two researchers considering a theory. This, in contrast to the tone she had expected.
The Intaki lifted herself onto the desk of one of the workstations; she retrieved a nearby spherical object and began to toss it between each of her hands. Reclining until her back touched the cold metal causing her to gasp. Her damp black hair had all but engulfed the remainder of the desk while her blue eyes starred at the high ceiling. Her proprioception – the ability to sense the relative location of body parts – allowing her to play idly with the sphere without physically seeing it.
The Jovian began to approach her slowly upon seeing this. His eyes trailing over her form with a cat-like curiosity with a central focus on her activity. His right hand lifted with a gaunt finger following the sphere as she pitched it between her palms. Like a chameleon, his augmented eyes separated their focus. The left eye, watching the sphere she played with attentively while the right eye focused entirely on Anneyo's face.
His words came out in a pitched tone, as if greatly interested, “Your mannerisms are particularly intriguing. Physically, you show aptitude that is expected of your stature in a military field. However, your mental and social capability is reserved, restrained, even. While all individuals are unique in their expression you seem fascinatingly quick to exemplify yourself of negative context. Tell me, how can you resort to recreation so soon after haphazard circumstance?”
“Ida – ‘To Consider’.” She replied, pointedly.
“The Intaki faith. Does this ‘Ida’ encourage abandonment of negativity?”
“Not quite. Ida is not a faith or belief, so much as a way of life. Ida is moderation in all things. To put it simply, it is necessary to indulge yourself occasionally but over indulgence isn’t encouraged, neither is self-denial. Proper alignment with The Way in our lives is what allows us to become reborn, that we may teach others the lessons we have learned.”
“Intaki Rebirth, yes, I have researched this. The Intaki are of particular interest to me for this cultural phenomenon. Your resigned nature, control of emotions, and societal impact are all a favorite study of mine. Our archives here in the Kitz are not as well equipped on the subject as I would like. Discuss further, please, I’m sure the conversation would be of great value, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You keep saying that.” Anneyo stated, her interest piqued.
“Our disease includes a lack of focus at times. I am only asking to reassure that I am speaking clearly and concisely.”
Anneyo considered this statement with a moment of hesitation. Silently, she debated the moral ethic of seeing the extent of his focus but decided to forego playing mind games with a man so clearly struggling with his own stability.
She gave a brief hum in combination to this deliberation before continuing with their chosen topic, “Ida is commonly misconstrued. It requires a level of discipline that many simply do not have, especially in the Federation where the people are so obsessed with their personal liberties to do as they will. There is nothing wrong with this, per say, but it reflects back to what I had mentioned about over-indulgence. Furthermore, many, wrought in the ideal that they are over-indulging when confronted, tend to exact themselves directly into self-denial with the misconception that they are wrong. To be reborn is to expand one’s knowledge of the world and its constant cycles. Life and death is a prevalent example.”
The Jovian’s eyelids fluttered for a moment, as if trying to remove debris. He turned around and began to walk toward a separate terminal, retrieving a similar spherical object as the one Anneyo continued to throw between her hands. He mimicked this action, methodically, and kept a careful eye on the movements, saying, “This subject is quite titillating. Tell me, are you Reborn?”
“Yes, technologically.”
“And in what ways would an individual go about becoming Reborn?”
“In the past, there were many traditions to ensure a soul would continue their lifetimes. With technology, however, we have perfected the methodology and many Intaki are reborn. However, Idama are the most revered as to be Idama, one must be reborn without assistance. They are truly the paragons of our way.”
The Jovian’s eyes focused on his sphere now. His concentration locked onto the task of throwing the sphere with increased intensity, the snapping of his translucent flesh echoed out as the metal forcefully found its way in each hand. He continued this display until it began to glow a dim orange color, growing brighter until it began to give a low whistling tune. Seemingly satisfied, he set the sphere back down on the metal surface of the terminal and began to walk toward the center of the room where the hologram still played.
“I suggest you explore the Kitz. Familiarize yourself with its layout. In exchange for knowledge of your culture and… ‘The Way’… I will teach you the way The Society would a traditional student. It will be difficult, given our limited time, but I am confident that you will succeed. You will become renown, as they all are.”
The Jovian sat down calmly before the hologram with his cybernetic eyes affixed to the projection. His stillness was almost disturbing, as if a statue on display with a deadpan expression across his face. Finding an appreciation and respect for his mannerisms, Anneyo gained the impression that he wanted to involve himself in the therapy recording. She lifted from her seat, walking out of the room to explore.
Anneyo ate her food with reservation but not due to its taste. She savored each bite but her pace was particularly slow. Her eyes began to drift toward the Jovian across from her who sat with a calm, expressionless demeanor, the table in front of him empty. He appeared distant, as if lost in his own imagination.
In any normal circumstance, Anneyo would have waited until he acknowledged her presence than to interrupt the Jovian’s thoughts. She decided against this, however, concerned over his state of mind due to the increasing ferocity of the disease over the previous several days. Consequentially the decline was because of a single missed therapy session.
“You really should eat something. You’re getting thinner as the days go by.” She suggested, quietly.
Her mentor had not responded and she began to wonder if he had bothered to leave his own thoughts to acknowledge that she was trying to talk to him. If he had not been breathing, she would have assumed that he had died at the table.
Since she had started her education regime with the Jovian the two had worked closely to provide for one another, much to the benefit of the self-sustainment systems offered by the Kitz itself. Since the irregularity in his therapy schedule she had found herself more to be in a position of a caretaker rather than an apprentice of his studies.
His apathy had affected their studies as well and it had grown harder for Anneyo to keep the Jovian focused on their tasks. When he was able to focus, he seemed to be lost in a fit of depression and the joy he previously had shown for their conversations was not as profound. The only times he was able to break from the melancholic phases was through the discussion of Ida and Intaki Rebirth. She had accepted that his interest stemmed from the possibility that he could be reborn, free of the disease.
She slid the plate of food, still steaming, toward him. Offering the same utensil she had used as she spoke, “Here. Eat some; we will discuss more on Rebirth.”
His mood had shifted at this mention and as if a toddler presented with a candy after a shot slowly began to move about. Grasping the utensil in his hand, he began to eat with a lazy effort. Anneyo smiled at this, delighted by his continued drive to attempt to fight the inevitable.
The woman lifted her arms and rested her elbows on the table. She placed her fingertips together while leaning forward to speak in a sagely manner before continuing, “Remember that self-denial is also discouraged. You shouldn’t allow negative feelings to cloud your thoughts. I understand that you may not feel much enthusiasm for your work as of late but it is important to keep to that ambition. If not for the fact that it will help combat the disease, that it will encourage you to better see the path that is before you.”
“I will try.” He replied, lazily.
“Trying assumes the possibility of failure. You will.” She said, reassuringly.
The constant motivation provided the Jovian the drive he needed to fight the disease as long as possible. Anneyo had considered several times that perhaps she encouraged his willpower selfishly; that she were keeping him alive for the bond that they had established. Although she fully understood and realized that death was the only inevitable outcome for his affliction, she had gained a reliance on his company as much as he had relied on hers.
“Come on. We’re going to play with the sphere again.” She commanded.
The Jovian’s reluctance was clear given the mannerism of the way he brought himself to a stand. His posture was poor, slouched forward as he lethargically moved to one side of the table. He rested his palms on the table’s surface, staring at her from a distance as she retrieved the glowing sphere. Anneyo rolled it across at a measured pace. A heavy metallic sound emitted from it as it traveled toward him, stopped by his hand with a fleshy clap. His mechanical eyes lifted and focused on hers, the shutters adjusting to zoom in on her features.
“Natural rebirth is rare among the Intaki.” He stated, but Anneyo knew that this to be a question despite the lack of tone. He was, at times, confused in how to voice his thoughts properly.
“Yes, very rare. It is possible though and if you truly wish to be reborn without technology then it is all the more important that you follow the path.”
The Jovian contemplated this further before rolling the sphere back to her. They continued this repetition for some time, absorbed in their own thoughts. The activity was beneficial to the Jovian especially as the exercise gradually elevated his mood. The game bolstered his psyche and soon enough they would continue with their exchange of knowledge as was tradition since their acquaintance.
Even the most hardened individuals are still capable of compassion when confronted with something novel. Anneyo realized this first hand with the Jovian, who after a long battle against his affliction had resigned himself to what was essentially medical life support. Unconscious, but still alive with the assistance of contraptions that made Anneyo squeamish every time she saw him that way.
The room was dark, only illuminated by a single bright light that shone down over the Jovian’s form who was now more machine than human. Securely fastened into a metal frame, the Jovian was immobile. A dull hum gently pulsing throughout the room every few seconds that conveniently eliminated the eerie ring of silence.
Before cascading into his abrupt final stages, the Jovian had implored that she do everything in her power to keep him alive as long as possible, regardless of how much he plead toward the end. As expected, he did plead as the final stages of the disease worsened, as if craving his inevitable death.
Anneyo canted her head gently as she approached. She had given a quick glance over several monitors to ensure that there were no complications with his prolonged survival, purely out of habit. The long span of time she had seen her friend in this condition weighed her consideration and eventually she had decided to go against his wishes. Deactivating and dismantling the machine, she allowed her mentor to die in his sleep, preventing unnecessary suffering.
She controlled her emotions with resolve; such was her nature, as she began to leave the room for a final time. Her comrades from the Conglomerate having finally found her location now that she had activated a signal provided by the Kitz itself.
The Intaki placed her hand on the frame of the doorway, turning to look over her shoulder at the Jovian’s body that silently hung on the frame.
“Endless research without closure – an answer… but perhaps reborn…” Her thoughts echoed aloud as she departed.