Eulogy 0

Intro

Light filtered through motes of ash. Puffs had been kicked up along the path. Blood-red sunlight reflected off the polarized visor. A steely carapace bobbed against the star. Gloves scraped grime from his vision port. Hidden hands made one shake. Another cloud rose from the earth.

The air had grown deathly still. His trail would persist if it could be seen. Black-tinted edges of white bulbous boots. Night soil caked chunky peeling soles. The result of a hundred and some countless steps. The boy looked back. He saw nothing—only crimson light touching ancient steps. He placed his left before his right.

The boy's neck groaned in pain. An entire lifetime hadn't changed the endless expanse. It hadn't done a thing to numb the deep ache. When the boy's head came up—the horizon was still unbroken. Only a stark and unbreathing ember land. He could see and see and see. The world was an insipid plane.

The rear of his hazmat suit hit ground. Ebony jets flew into the air. Ruby rays showered through the cloud. The scorched cloud obscured his bleached yellow-green. A crimson orb hung low in the sky. It partly held the blame. Damn ball prepared to pass from life to death.

The boy hit his dimmer switch. His visor changed to clear. Olive-green eyes stood out against blooded whites. Fading light caught them; they flashed pale green. The boy shivered with the shift. Brows furrowed and he rubbed stinging eyes. He closed his lids then opened. Nothing had changed.

Auburn hair fell over his eyes. Light faded and they transformed to moss-etched stones. He sat and watched the world die again. A single breath fell from stretched lips.

The sky opened up. He stared for a long-long-long moment. He gazed at ridges of mountains. He saw the glow of distant valleys. He spoke to the sea between them. His vision took him to a lion and a viper; they grew.

Straps on his bag came undone. He grabbed a nutrient bar and his eyes scrunched up. He peeled back the wrapper and hit the helmet again. His eyes had faded completely.

He pushed the tip of the bar past charcoal-stained lips. He chewed slowly and softly. His face held no contentment. His features held no remembrance of pleasure. He sighed again and his features slowly relaxed.

Maybe it was nostalgia from when food wasn't trash. Jaw muscles repeated the movement. Eventually the entire bar was gone. The empty wrapper was all that was left. He dropped it onto the ashen ground. The shiny foil looked disgusting in contrast.

He collapsed into the pile of ash he'd built. He lay there in the quiet dark. One by one the stars came to greet him. He traced their paths as they rocketed and showered. Thousands upon millions. The sky bloomed. The earth lay faded against his back.

His arms and legs stretched out. His eyes closed for more than a moment. Rhythmically they flapped up and down. In and out. Back and forth. His wings formed. His robe took shape.

All an unseen outline on the ground. He flew amongst stars. Just until he opened those eyes. He sank back down once more. His back black as the soot.

Thoughts could have swum through his head. Maybe only of sleep. There might have been one of food. One of warmth? He couldn't be sure. He didn't know if he remembered. He didn't know how to tell.

The automatic tent didn't take long to deploy. It came out of the bag in one long pull. Rusted gears jingled. Chunky movements banged the rods upwards. They finally clunked into place.

The teepee stood six feet tall. Its coloring was obscured by a dusting of ash and night. The boy crawled to the entrance. He couldn't stand inside. He huddled through its portal.

The inside only held the cold blue hue of the light orb. The boy always took a long moment to stare into its surface. He took that moment. He couldn't quite remember what he was supposed to see. Was there a fairy inside? Did it matter to him? Probably not. It gave him light; that's its purpose.

He broke contact and grabbed for the bedroll. It was mounted on the wall. Was it soft or hard? There wasn't any way to tell through his gloved hands. He took them off, dropped the heavy metal to the ground. They pinged off the floor, bounced once. He stripped. His skin held the same grey black as the outside. Green eyes flashed in the blue light. The hue felt weird somehow.

His stomach rumbled; he heard it. He grabbed for a nutrient bar again. Why did they always taste like shit? He placed it between his lips. Fuck, he had forgotten to take the wrapper off. Picking plastic out of his teeth, he grumbled. The plastic somehow tasted even worse. His teeth stained the edges of the bar black. It disappeared bite by bite. Black edges disappeared as he munched.

He ached for something, anything. He was so, so fucking bored. Or was he? He couldn't even remember being occupied. He pulled off the boots. Stark-ass naked, he gripped the boots with his cracked nails. The soles were peeling again. He'd have to fix them soon. There might be some liquid sealer left in the bag.

Nope.

His head swam; where was his water bladder? It was buried in the corner of the tent's storage pouch. Caked with ash, just like everything else. Water sprayed on him as the small hose slipped. The bladder's seal had broken. Third time in what he thought was a hundred and something days. Now he got to be wet too. He quenched his thirst. The bladder hit the wall. It slipped back into storage.

His head hit the hard pillow again. It felt like a damn brick. Bricks were hard, right? His neck would hurt in the morning. It hurt now.

At least the blanket was dry. He pulled it over him and flipped on his back. He flipped back and forth. Stomach to back. Back to stomach.

He felt like he remembered something called "Pancakes"? He felt like a pancake. He made a sizzling sound as he flipped to his back. Did they sizzle?

Maybe.

He shrugged.

His eyes were blue-green, reflecting cold light. He stared and stared and stared. What was there to stare at?

He pulled a book from his side. It opened to a random page. He looked at the paper. The symbols danced in his head. It was a waltz he hadn't learned.

What else was there to see?

Cold light? Black walls? Broken water pouches? Empty nutrient bar wrappers? Half-eaten wrappers?

The boy didn't think. He placed the book back gently. He rolled on his side. He made a sizzling hiss once more.

He clapped his hands twice. The watery blue orb died; it was dark. He closed his eyes, coughed out ash, and died. Dead for the night.

He spit up ash; blue light entered his eyes. Had he been asleep? Had he gone to bed? Had he eaten? Must have, or the light wouldn't have come on.

The boy sat up and grabbed for the water bladder. Water sprayed on him as the small hose slipped. The bladder's seal had broken. He kicked it across the center of the tent.

His boots came on first. The soles had peeled off. Did he have any cement left?

No.

Damn. They'd have to do.

He pulled on the faded green suit. His gloves attached next. He grabbed for a nutrient bar. The wrapper was peeled back. The bar was crushed by stained teeth. It always tasted like shit.

"I wonder what it used to be like to chew?"

He mumbled through mouthfuls of crap.

The wrapper fell on a mountain of foil stacked in the corner. He popped the helmet on. Buzzzzz, he hummed as he fit it snugly. The visor slid down. He and his bag crawled out the flap. Grimy gears clunked and the teepee collapsed.

His neck hurt.

Red light filtered from that damn orb on his back. Footprints traced along the endless field of ash. Petite dunes had formed where wind had blown. Night winds. The visor polarized and his eyes flashed one last time. Bloodshot and bright green.

Delicately the tent was hoisted into the bag. The bag was gently placed on green shoulders. The waist belt quietly buckled. The last straps securely tightened. Left foot came in front of the right as if a secret.

He stepped on the ruined field again and again and again. Swirls of prints followed him in delicate streams. They looked like rivers of night. Their depth varied when his feet dragged. The peeling soles were the brush that left the mark on the land.

The streams dragged for miles forming valleys and mountains. Crimson light hit the ridges, and forests of fire appeared. Those small streams became creeks; the creeks became rivers. They all came to a midnight sea.

How long? How long had these streams become? He couldn't make the thought. So he picked up his left foot and in a covert move placed it out front of his right.

The bloodshot sky grew brighter and colder. The boy shivered as the dead still air tore through him. His feet stopped on top of his newest mountain. It fell over and melded into the sea.

He took off his pack and let it drop to the ground. He pulled out a nutrient bar. It always tasted like shit. His hands gently pressed the helmet and the visor slid up. He curled his lips and chewed the bar. He spat—he'd forgotten the wrapper—it glittered gold.

He coughed up some ash and threw the bar on the ground. It faded when it hit and he lost sight of it. He caught one fleck of gold as he moved his eyes skyward. His eyes grew dark as he squinted and his brows lowered. There was nothing out there, just him. A pancake. He sizzled.

"Sssssss."

His eyes caught the light again and he hammered the visor down. It polarized and he was back to work on his river. He kept at that work until the red star almost touched the ground. The star was so bright against the ebony ground. The earth drank its crimson light greedily.

His visor came up again when he pressed on that familiar spot. The light caught him and he was blinded for a moment. When he thought his vision had cleared he stared out. It was faint, almost impossible to see unless you were looking. There was black. It came from inside the sun.

He felt the light enter him. Another gasp of ash when he laid his bag down flat. The teepee came out again. Whirring and spinning it rose. It couldn't fully form its pyramid. It clunked and sputtered right near the top. He pulled his pack with him and burrowed in.

The inside was shorter tonight; his routine wasn't. Same as the day before, he kicked off his boots. The day before that, he stripped nude. And just another day before that, the bar tasted like shit.

He tried to find some sealer to fix his soles. He didn't have any left. Fuck, they'd have to do.

His head felt light. He grabbed for his water bladder. The drinking tube sprayed across his face. The seal had broken again. He chucked it across the room.

He lay down on his brick. Stared at blue light. Spat out ash. Clapped twice.

"Ssssssss."

His eyes came open before the light. It was dark. Had he slept? He thought he had. Was he supposed to be wet?

The routine was different but the same. He pulled on his boots. The room was completely dark. He dragged up his environment suit. He could only feel its seams. Next, gloves were clipped in. He wiggled his fingers, and his feeling was gone.

He chewed on his shitty bar. There was no glint of gold in the black. He swallowed it in two bites. It felt like it settled in his stomach. His helmet came on. "Pssshhhhh," he said as it descended. "All set for the day."

It was backwards this time. He couldn't see through the back. He tripped and fell out the dark flap.

With his mouth filled with ash, he spun the helmet around. He coughed ash back onto the ground. He turned to stand and fell on his back again. He suddenly saw the heavens stretch above.

There was a lion fighting a viper with an army around them. He waved his arms and legs. He shook his ass and wagged his head. He stood on his feet and crouched down. He gave himself a little halo.

He watched the stars float and coast above.

Grey rays of light started to dot the horizon. The great blooded giant had awakened for another day. It spat long streams of crimson silk across the barren land. It lit up all the rivers he'd been working on.

He squinted with the sun, peered into the far reaches of its rays. And there he could see.

Only a plane.

"Sssssss."