Eight
THE CENTER of the galaxy is at once the brightest and darkest point in space Atom has ever seen. He's seen black holes before, but never one with such personal significance. Never one that is at its core the very heart of a galaxy.
And never from such a close distance. Sagittarius A*, the centermost point of the Milky Way, yawns within the window at the front of the cockpit. Atom's ship has been stationary for twenty minutes now, anchored in suspension, glued to the sight.
An ant before the giant.
The God of the Galaxy is a phenomenon so elusive it seems like an illusion. A black tar pit surrounded by a kaleidoscope disk of light and stardust. Bending and warping beyond the understanding of human sight. The hole's border, the event horizon, is clear cut. Light from the around the border does not bleed past the rim. Not even a little bit. It spins and spins all along its edge faster than light, but glows only outward, away from the all consuming pupil.
And it calls to him.
That black spot, darker than the coldest night, unmoving and yet seething with its immense presence, says his name. Atom feels the pull on his bones and eyes and lungs. His arms and legs and head. He spares a glance at his spatial coordinates to make sure the black hole isn't quite literally sucking them into its heart. The reading is the same as it was twenty minutes ago.
This is it. This is his goal, his final destination, his resting place. All he has left to do now is angle the ship parallel to the hole and make his way to the escape pod. From inside the pod, he would manually eject himself from the ship, and fall directly into the waiting arms of oblivion.
It would take hours, possibly days, for his coffin to reach the event horizon. It was even possible that he would die of pod malfunction before the hole had a chance to swallow him and tear him out of existence.
Robby and the ship would be long gone by then, to safety, to his galaxy. And the bomb would go off with or without the beating of Atom's heart to accompany it.
Checking his coordinates one last time, Atom unbuckles from the pilot seat. Robby is pressed up against the window to his left, fingers spread across the glass, drinking in the sight. But he turns at Atom's movement.
Unlatching his helmet, Atom slides it off and peels out of his suit. He crams them into a storage cubby and remains only in his thin Unity Keeper jumpsuit.
And then it is just the two of them. No sound passes from either astronaut. Only the center of the galaxy looms in the view between their bodies, waiting. But even if this moment stretched across the scape of a million years the right words would not come. Not in this language, nor Robby's. This is a land beyond life and death. This is a land beyond reason. And Atom is glad for it. He's had enough of reason. Of voices, pleading and prodding, accompanied by swords and blood. Soon there will be nothing. Not even the memory of this man or any other.
With a gentle nudge of the controls the ship glides into position. Atom updates the autopilot command to keep it locked in this state. Then he leaves the cockpit and follows a direct course down the length of the ship to the coffin.
Its narrow airlock hisses open with a certain finality to it. Once he crosses the threshold there will be no coming back.
The interior of the coffin is dimly lit, and small. Atom knows its height will accommodate his entire length from head to toe with room to spare. But he doubts he will have any ability to fully stretch his arms out in any other direction. One wall of the pod is lined with monitors and dials for life support. A small circular viewing window is embedded at roughly face-level. The other three walls are padded with shock absorbing panels and small intermittent lights. It's going to be a cramped and boring journey to the end.
Hovering in the frame of the airlock Atom allows himself a moment of reflection. Long overdue. But if he doesn't do it now, he never will. This is the end of the road. It's okay now to stand still at the precipice. To look at his toes hanging over the darkness.
And simply breathe.
Yet— Strangely, thoughts of Earth do not come. His mind reaches out tentatively for memories of home but his fingers only bump into cold rigid corpses, piled on top of one another. An unlit pyre. And in his other hand, a candle, dripping wax. The droplets succumb to gravity and fall down, painting the palm of a man he recognizes. Even here in this dark space without light, his gold eyes shine with pain and anger. All around them, limbs writhe in terror. Thousands of mouths open and close without making any noise. A clawed metal gauntlet grips him by his metal ankle. He'll have to shake it off in order to take the extra step needed to light the oiled rope coiled around the body of a fully suited Unity Keeper propped in front of him. In the reflection of its helmet he sees himself. Naked and drenched in deep red blood.
Closing his eyes once more Atom recounts a constellation in the form of a winged knight. It does nothing to alleviate the weight attached to his leg.
And what right does he have now to seek solace in comfort, to close his eyes against the actions he has committed in order to reach this point in time? There will be no escape from Atom's bomb. No solace. No survivors. Unless Maverick is right, and the elite have planned all along to fly to paradise while the rest of humanity burns. Can it be true? Has he really been so blind?
Every hair on Atom's neck stands to attention before he feels the chill of physical contact against his skin. From the base of his neck it slides around to his jaw and then his cheek and then across both eyes. The darkness is absolute. His breath catches, obstructed by the kiss that finds his lips. Featherlight. But solid.
The blindfold falls and Atom sees Robby, suitless and entirely bare.
In the shape of a tall man with skin dark and shifting and roiling with energy, but whole. His silhouette is solid against the white interior of the ship. Not a single tendril or plume escapes his perfect form. To the touch he is as smooth as marble and cold as glass in winter. His eyes are both wide and dim and visually are the complete inverse of the black hole outside.
The polar opposite of Atom's approaching future.
With his hands gliding across the surface of his marble-smooth skin, Atom wonders at the vibrations of fondness buzzing within him that reach for the other man. This stranger. This partner. This lover. How easily these vibrations find resonance in a body so alien.
He wonders at Robby's ability to hold himself together in zero gravity, and not disperse across the entire ship like he normally would. Is it difficult? Had he known he could do it? Or did he take a chance? For what purpose? Why take the risk? How long can he keep it together? Does it hurt?
These questions seep into Atom's bones, and he begins to shake. Not from fear of death. But of the enormity of the unknown and all that is nameless. He shakes with violence. He pictures his own skin unraveling and releasing his blood in an unstoppable burst of red.
He wonders if it will be quick. He wonders if it will hurt. He wonders if it will even matter, once it's all over. He wonders.
He wonders at the sound of snow falling in his ears. It builds and rises and blinds and buries him and it feels like baptization.
The shaking stops. The hiss of an airlock sliding shut is the nail on the coffin. And it is music to his ears.
A chance. A decision. A single step toward a new path.
The hand on the lock is whole, and human. The heart beating in his chest is human and wholly unwilling to come to a halt. His voice is clear when he again finds the hands of a stranger so familiar and asks him a question.
"Your home— will you take me there? I want—" This time there is no tightness that grips his throat. His breath passes freely. The words come easy.
"I want to go with you." Says Atom. "I want to see the place you came from."
Robby's eyes flare, and his hands grow warm and misty where Atom grips them. He says yes, yes, yes, and his body begins to fall apart. Atom scrambles to help Robby get back into his suit and he thinks he hears his own laughter amongst the shuffling and tangling of their bodies. Fueled by excitement they jet back to the command room and Robby wastes no time setting up a fresh warp procedure on the console while Atom secures himself in the passenger seat.
In the corner of the window, during the minutes before takeoff, Atom watches the disk of light and matter orbiting around the black hole. A phenomenon that dictates the entire fate of the galaxy, dragging billions of stars and planets and lifeforms in its wake, existing outside the rules of the universe as the sole giver of life to everything Atoms knows and loves.
And Atom thinks it is the most wonderful thing he has ever seen.
-
WAY OUT in the Leo A galaxy, nestled in a dense planetary system orbiting a binary star, is a supermassive planet Robby calls "cloud-sister". As they approach, Atom takes a few guesses as to how she got the name.
At both poles, two massive multi-colored storms rage with the betraying calmness that can only be perceived from space. Her middle is mostly clear, except for occasional jet streaks that break off from the main storms and trail thousands of miles in thin lines high above the mountainous ground.
And there are oceans. Lakes. Rivers. Electric blue free flowing water. The ground is green and brown and red and black and orange. The colors of possibility. The colors of life.
Robby confirms his train of thought. Atom contains his racing mind and absorbs the visual facts. As they breach the atmosphere the range of colors rushing to greet them is almost overwhelming. Robby coasts over ancient mountain ranges and canyons and hones in on what looks to be an ocean at first glance, which turns out to be an endless sea of lush blue-leafed trees.
They approach a clearing in the trees. In the center of the clearing is a circular cerulean lake. Robby tilts the nose of the ship towards it and cuts straight through the lake's surface. Submerged in its blue-green light, the ship comes to a slow, gentle stop. Then it begins floating toward the surface. A glance at the control panel shows it cooling down at record speed, but not so fast that it ran the danger of cracking the ship's metal casing.
Atom's hands are on his safety straps before the ship even bobs free of the suspension pool. He's on his feet and leaning his weight against the control panel, helmet pressed against the glass, as it finally clears and reveals fragments of Robby's planet through rivulets of the strange gooey liquid.
A hand on his back brings his attention to Robby.
I will take you to my home, he says. But first I must speak to the others. Tell them why I have been gone for so long.
"The others?"
The pilots. We have landed in the shipyard, and they will not recognize this ship. There will be questions. I can hear them! My brothers, my sisters, they are coming!
At the look Atom gives him, Robby rumbles low with laughter and rises from the pilot seat.
There is nothing to fear. They are my kin. But perhaps you should keep your suit on. For now. I do not wish for them to drown you in questions so soon.
Atom watches him strip from the spacesuit, revealing his solid body. Carbon black. Except for the burning white eyes on his otherwise featureless face. He reaches out to squeeze Atom's shoulder before heading to the airlock, light on his feet.
Throwing one last glance over his shoulder at the towering trees seen through the window, Atom follows him. "You said this is a shipyard?"
They are in the trees. Everything is within the trees. You will see.
The door shudders open and warm orange light pours in from outside. The green pool sparkles several meters below them. Gliding atop its surface towards their direction is a singular dark shape. Obsidian black and hovering just above the water is a ship, and on it Atom can spot the silhouettes of two of Robby's people. As they pull up to the side of Atom's ship, he can see that they are very tall, well over ten feet both, but otherwise featureless. Even more so than Robby. They have no arms or legs or any other appendages to speak for.
Roamer, says one of them, you have returned? And what has happened to you?
I am well. But due to unfortunate circumstances, I have lost my ship. I was only able to return thanks to the good grace of my friend here. His name is Atom. He calls himself a human. He is from Planet Earth.
Atom, they say, in echo. From their shapeless oblong bodies unfold a pair of long jointless hands that reach out to touch him, and Atom flinches despite himself. They don't seem deterred by the reaction, but Robby interferes.
Tomorrow, he insists. You may meet him tomorrow. For now I wish to show my friend my home. And see my mother.
Very well. It is so good to see you again, Roamer. The others will be glad to hear of it too.
It is good to be home, he says, and the joy radiating off of him is palpable.
Robby helps Atom board the Roamers' boat and when he steps onto its smooth black surface it doesn't bob under his weight. He takes a seat as closely to the center as he can, and wonders how this planet's sunlight might feel against his skin. Or how the water might feel slipping through his fingers. But the boat floats too high above the surface to find out.
By the time they reach the shore Robby has finished giving a brief retelling of his capture on Base Violet. As they pull up to a smooth stoney shore, Atom still can't see any other ships. Together with Robby he steps off the boat and the group of Roamers parts ways, slipping between the large towering trees with bark just as dark as their bodies. Very quickly Atom loses track of them.
He sticks close to Robby as he guides him along a twisted forest path until they come across a large felled tree. It's large trunk leans against the branches of its brothers, leaving a clear cut path through the dense foliage to the sky. Embedded in its gnarled exposed roots is a door. Robby swings it open and steps up into the hollowed out trunk and when he comes back out, he is seated on the back of a small hovering vehicle. He pats the spot behind him and says, hop on.
Atom shrugs and swings one leg over the side, and holds on tightly to Robby as they rise from the ground and use the fallen tree as a guiding ramp to shoot out above the forest. Up here, the forest stretches in every direction. Here and there, taller trees rise high above the others, but these are far and few between.
Robby steers the vehicle towards one such tree and picks up speed. In the far distance, rolling cloud tops glow almost pink under the sunlight.
As they near the giant blue tree, Atom can see that it is surrounded by an empty ring of space, which allows them to loop down and around the trunk until they land on dirt broken apart by massive snaking roots. Robby parks his vehicle in a hollowed crack in the base of the large tree and leads Atom down a blue stone path and through an archway of roots to a round stone plaza.
My hometown. This is where I grew up.
The trees are thinner here, and Atom sees through the gaps in the trees that there are houses here, carved from tree trunks and roofed with roots. Robby's home is a small hut framed by small blue saplings sprouting from its black walls. His mother, a shadow with twelve sets of hands sticking out the back of her head, sits in the yard, hard at work repairing some strange pile of machinery.
Robby calls out to her.
She looks up. And scrambles across the yard on three sets of legs.
The two of them embrace, becoming to Atom's eyes a single shadow. He hears her words in his mind, laced with sorrow and relief so strong they twist Atom's gut.
When you lost contact, I feared the worst.
I have returned, he says. I am home.
My little wanderer...
I am here. I am here.
Oh generous stars, thank you for bringing him back.
It wasn't the luck of the stars that guided me back. Robby steps back from his mother and reaches out to Atom. It was this star-speaker that brought me here on his ship. His name is Atom.
Robby's mother reaches out to him and Atom cautiously steps into her hug.
I thank you, star-speaker.
"It's no problem. He... Your son helped me, too. I'm glad to have seen him safely home."
Are you hungry? Does your species eat?
"Oh, yes. We do."
Plants? Meat? Bacteria? Sunlight?
"Meat sounds good."
Yes. There is a family of Zeev down the street. They raise their own Hujj Bugs. I'll go see if I can borrow some.
Without waiting for a response, she scampers away. Robby watches her go and pulses with joy.
She loves having guests over, he explains.
"Hujj Bugs?" Atom asks.
Robby shrugs. I cannot taste, remember?
"Of course."
If you want, you may take your suit off now. The villagers here won't bother you much. They aren't Roamers. They understand privacy.
Atom files away this information and follows Robby into the house. Robby points him to a room with a bed made of soft red moss. The floor underneath is white sand, and the walls drip with luminescent plant bulbs, filling the space with a soft orange glow. Atom swings his backpack to the floor and peels off the spacesuit.
The planetary air washes over him with a strong woodsy scent. Some other scent rides in its undercurrent but Atom doesn't know the words to describe it. He ties the arms of his jumpsuit around his middle and walks into the main room of the house just as Robby's mother flies through the main doorway with her hands full of purple wriggling creatures, with gold and blue spores jiggling from their fat-skinned backs.
They don't taste half as bad as they look, and after a filling meal Atom steps outside to allow Robby a personal moment with his mother. The sun has set now, and lit lanterns line the streets and lead Atom's legs to the plaza.
He finds a stone bench to sit on and observes a group of shadow children sitting in a huddle in the center of the plaza. Among them is a creature more fur than solid shape. Atom wonders if this is one of the Zeevs Robby's mother had mentioned. In the middle of their huddle is a large metal plate, and on it is a burning pile of flowers that smell sickly sweet and make whistling sounds with each pop of the flames. One of the shadow children notices Atom and breaks away from its friends.
Atom hears words in his head as the child approaches.
Luutoo says a Roamer came back with a newcomer today. Are you the newcomer? I have never seen anything like you before.
"Yeah, that's me."
Where are you from?
"Earth."
Oh. Is that far?
"Kind of. I've never been this far from home, that's for sure."
What's it like there?
Atom thinks about it. "Cold. Dry. Most of it is a wasteland. They say it used to be green and beautiful. It's hard to believe, now that I know what green and beautiful really means." Atom sweeps a hand toward the surrounding forest. "It seems nice here."
It is okay. I can not wait to grow up and become a Roamer, so that I can see all sorts of planets.
The child hops up onto the bench beside him.
Are you going to stay here? Most newcomers go to live in the all-city. It is rare for them to move here, in the village.
"I don't know. I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet."
Oh. That's okay.
Behind them, a flock of birds begins to sing. Atom looks around, trying to spot them, and his eyes catch on something else. Through the gaps in leaves above he sees and recognizes the three red stars from Robby's memory of this place. They slip out from behind a cover of clouds and wash the world in red light.
The birds grow louder, waking their friends, until the entire forest seems to bleed with their cries, screaming in reverence to the midnight suns.
-
HE WILL have to be documented soon, says Robby's mother over lunch the next day.
He will. In time, says Robby.
"What does that mean?"
Robby looks at him. Your data must be added to the Index. It is my job to do so.
"What is this index? What data?"
I have your molecular data. I must take it to the city and add it to the database library, along with all the other data I have collected on my travels, before I met you. It's what I do. I go to planets and absorb the data of everything. The rocks. The air. The creatures, if there are any. When I come home I transfer the information over to the library. This is what it means to be a planetary observer. Or in other words, a Roamer.
"What is the information used for?"
Documenting. So that we may build the largest pool of molecular knowledge in the universe.
Atom shifts, and Robby picks up on his discomfort. But he says, You have your missions. I have mine.
"No, it's fine. I've known about your ability to read molecules. I should have known you would have my data too. I just didn't consider what it could be used for."
Then I have your permission to transfer it?
"There's no harm in it?"
No. But the datakeepers might want to study you further... You are very interesting. But I do not wish for them to treat you as if you are a colorful stone, or a cute animal. You are more than that. You are my partner.
Robby reaches out to rest a hand on Atom's arm. His eyes glow softly, just inches away from Atom's.
When I get a new ship, I want you to be my copilot.
"What? As a Roamer? But I can't do what you can."
I want your company. And maybe it is time for us to start collecting physical samples as well.
"I'm no geologist."
But Atom can't deny the appeal of Robby's offer. As interesting as this planet is, Atom knows he can only stay grounded for so long before getting hit with star-fever. He'll be itching to go back to outer space sooner or later. For him, the itch always comes back.
"When are you getting a new ship?"
The sculptors are finishing one already. They say it will be ready for use in a week.
"So soon?"
We don't have to take off right away. If you'd like, I can take you to the shipyard to see the progress.
The shipyard, it turns out, is at the base of a massive crater in the ground, filled to the brim with tree roots and fog. A cauldron of creation, for through the fog Atom begins to see that these gnarled twisted shapes are no regular roots, but components for a high tech spaceship. Here, roots from trees are carved and molded into gears and wires and devices that have no human equivalent. Hexagonal disks, spiral exhaust valves, and pulsating containers for a substance Atom can only guess at. Great white lights trail all along the hull, shining like stars.
And the hull is the greatest component of all. A great hulking stalker of a ship, with long arching wings, customizable modules, and all of it bathed in the color of a moonless night.
At the heart of the ship is an open panel, exposing the guts of this deceptively simplistic machine. Bustling within its depths is a group of ship builders, "sculptors" as Robby calls them, hooking up a massive glowing core.
"What is that?" Atom asks.
The gravity drive. It simulates gravity on the ship. Allows us to function on board without the need for suits.
"What's it made of?"
Coldstar, a super dense ore found deep in this planet. It is what we all were born from, millions of years ago.
What are you borne from, human?
Atom takes a step back from the ship. "I don't know. The answer to that depends on who you ask. Some say God, some say primates. I say I came from my parent's need to feel significant for a moment. I wasn't born from love, I can tell you that."
A miracle nonetheless, no?
Atom looks at him. That isn't the word he would use, but he decides not to argue. "The real miracle is how I ended up in a place like this."
That was no miracle. That was your choice.
His choice.
Atom recalls how it felt to stand at the edge of choice. The memory shoves a shiver down his spine. And he asks himself, am I sure this isn't all a dream? What if I really did make the other decision? Did my body collapse into a million small pieces as I touched the edge of the black hole? Is this all a hallucination conjured by my final thoughts?
Robby's hand on his shoulder is cold. A symptom of reality.
Come, there's somewhere else I want to take you.
At the base of the great tree outside Robby's village, Robby guides him down a stoneless path in the opposite direction of the village entrance. The forest floor under their feet hints that there may have once been a path here, but now there is only moss and dirt. And a deafening silence.
Robby's back in front of him offers no sign of being affected by the brilliant sunlight trickling down on their heads. Atom begins to sweat from his exposed scalp.
The trail goes on for at least a mile, possibly more, and ends in a steep rising ridge topped with thin trees that make up for their meager berth in height. As they near the ridge the moss below becomes increasingly covered in a fine dusting of something white and sparkling.
It's just up here, says Robby.
He precedes Atom up the ledge. Using exposed roots as footholds, Atom climbs after him, and emerges in a clearing. He steps over a petrified log and his boots touch sand white as flour, sparkling with minerals. Beyond that, easing against the shore in a lazy rhythm, is an ocean. Beautiful and blue and familiar.
I cannot swim. But since I was a child I have enjoyed coming here. This is my favorite place.
Atom hears him but his mind... drifts. Out. And. Away.
On the first planet Robby had taken him to, there had been a beautiful frozen lake, ringed by giant frozen beasts. On the weaver planet there was a river, providing life to a village of gardeners and the valley of flowers in which they lived. On Rhimmih, at the base of the chaotic city of Seine, was the Great Blue sea.
But the sight before him now is different. The calm blue waters lapping at the edge of a delicate sand beach wrenches something from Atom. Something he didn't know still existed within.
Atom stumbles. His fingers land in plush sand softer than anything he has ever felt and he keeps going. Sandy fingers claw at the zipper at his neck and he fights his way out of his ratty uniform stiff with sweat and dirt and stardust. It catches at the belt around his waist and he falls again when he tries to pull off his boots. Half-stumbling, half-running, his bare feet crash into the water and then he's crawling. Ice water seizes him, sloshes against his bare arms and throat, tears all sensation from his body and he submerges his head, his entire self, under the water and into the deep.
Dripping, he emerges. Ocean water and glimmering salt and tears, dripping. Chest heaving, palms crushed against his face. Soaking and so cold.
Overflowing.
Chest deep in the ocean Atom stands and cries.
It isn't home.
It isn't Earth.
And Atom wishes—with every fiber of his being, with every bone and muscle and cell, with every ATOM in his body he yearns for it. For the smell of snow at the dawn of a new day. For the cleansing chill of the Pacific. For the ancient pull of Earth's moon on his blood.
Atom opens his eyes. There is no moon in the sky. Only a pink setting sun, sinking into the distant horizon.
It takes a part of him with it.
A different part. A newer part. A part that hasn't yet had the time to plant roots.
His feet carry him back to the shore. Robby stands at the edge of the waves, radiating questions. Atom has no answers.
Sand remains stuck to his skin when they return to the village. Robby's mother asks if he is alright as soon as he steps foot in her yard, but he says he feels sick, and retreats to the guest room. But once he's inside he finds the room terribly quiet, and he seeks to fill it with noise. He takes his knife and starts the process of sharpening it. But no, that isn't the right noise. He punches the walls until the skin on his knuckles ooze red, but that isn't right either.
The sound of his lungs heaving in the narrow space makes him want to scream.
Reaching into his backpack Atom takes out a heavy silver brick of a device. The chrome case is smudged with fingertips in rings around the various buttons. Atom presses the on switch and extends the antennae. Quiet static outpours from the speakers. At first, this is fine. Until it isn't. And the numbers already waiting on the small screen on the front face of the long range radio burn his eyes.
A click, a few seconds of silence, followed by another click.
Then a voice. Smooth and warm. It speaks his name in a question.
Atom inhales and can not answer. His voice has gone, sank to the bottom of an ocean, out of reach. His finger hovers on the red button to disconnect. And then the man on the other end speaks again.
"Those birds sure sound nice, wherever you are." He says. Atom lifts his head and becomes aware of his wider surroundings. Somewhere out of sight, a dozen midnight birds are chirping. When did night fall?
"Best noise I've heard in days. You know how rough these flights can be."
Atom knows it well. He lowers his head into his hands and remembers.
"Atom?" Says the voice. Minutes later the midnight stars set move out of view and the birds fall silent. Not even the whisper of a trail of wind is present to disturb the leaves of trees overhead.
"Atom?"
The red button doesn't complain when Atom severs the connection. He turns off the radio and buries it to the bottom of his backpack. His back hits the bed. For hours, sleep eludes him. Drifting just out of his grasp. At dawn Atom rolls to his feet and marches through the morning mist until the moss under his heavy feet turns to sand.
He sits down in the shade, well out of the water's reach, and shoves his backpack off his shoulders. It takes longer for Maverick to answer when Atom calls his frequency again. But the call goes through, and this time no words are spoken from either of them. The crash of waves is thunder in Atom's heart. He lets it wash over him until a burst of static pulls his mind back to the radio still gripped tightly in his hands. The screen tells him the call is still connected, but Atom breaks off and stands up.
-
THE DATABASE tower is an obelisk set in the center of a bustling city populated by hundreds of different lifeforms, all intelligent, all unique, and all coexisting in this sprawling metropolis. Robby tells him that each of these lifeforms is a delegate from their planet, living here to learn. And to teach.
The obelisk itself is a dark windowless monument that rises higher than anything else, like a godly spear left in the ground from a time long passed.
Robby leads him through the open archway into a seemingly hollow chamber. The lamp given to him by Robby does nothing to illuminate the heavy shadows overhead. The ground underfoot is a single narrow platform leading to the center of the cylindrical tower. At the end of the walkway is a giant black boulder. Atom leans over the railing surrounding it to gauge its size and finds it floating over a deep dark pit.
"How far down does this tower go?"
All the way to the sister's heart. The center of the planet. There are towers like these all over the surface.
"Oh." Atom takes several large, careful steps away from the railing. Robby walks up to the boulder and places both hands on its jagged surface. From his palms, intricate glowing symbols seep into the stone's skin. Intertwined and overlapping. The transfer is quick, but it takes a toll on Robby's body. He loses control of his solidity, and becomes a hazy suggestion, rather than the replicant of a human silhouette. Still, he insists on showing Atom around the city.
The obelisk is surrounded on all ends by white marble stairs. From this height, the all-city seems infinite in size. And in a way, it is. Skyscrapers and sky bridges and rivers and parks and long snaking transport ships leave no room to doubt its unparalleled existence.
On the back of Robby's hoverbike, they drop down into the city streets. Atom sees all kinds of lifeforms. Some are animalistic, some humanoid, some with eight arms and elaborate frilled necks and eyes blinking from their spines. Some are blue, some are green, some are brown. Most of them are taller than Atom. When Robby parks on the roof of a juice shop, a crowd of pea-sized citizens disembark from one of those snake-shaped vehicles. It seems to function as a bus.
With his eyes on its receding form he doesn't notice the man coming towards him, distractedly speaking into a device at his ear, until they collide. Something drops to the ground between their bodies. Atom bends to pick it up.
"Sorry," He says, and with his hand on the spine of a magazine he sees its owner's legs. They are entirely made out of metal. When his eyes rise up to the man's face he sees it too, is made of metal. Gray chrome, with a slightly blue shine to it. And the man is very large.
"That's alright, young one. I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you new in town? Haven't seen anyone like you before."
Atom hears his voice, sees the words make strange shapes on the man's metallic mouth, and recognizes the sounds as foreign. But once the information hits his brain Atom understands him.
"Uh, yes."
"'Course you are. Had the same look on my face the first few months I lived here. Nothing else like it in the universe. And I've been everywhere."
"No kidding?"
The man laughs. "Of course I'm kidding!" He laughs so hard he starts to wheeze. "'No kidding?' he says. Funniest damn thing I've heard all year. Living in a city full of scholars has its perks but the luxury of corner street comedians is not one of them. Tell you what, if you've got any more jokes in you, stop by my clinic sometime. Name's Tyur. And I've got to run." Taking the magazine from Atom's hands, he swings a heavy black coat over one large, metal, shoulder. "Not enough surgeons in this damn hodgepodge." He mumbles.
Atom perks up. "Surgeon?"
"Yeah, surgeon. I take people apart and sometimes I even put them back together. You got anything like that where you're from?"
Atom looks at the sun reflecting off the man's mechanical hands when he asks, "Do you install prosthetics?"
Tyur looks at him. "Do I look like the kind of guy who does prosthetics?"
When Atom doesn't answer, Tyur doubles over in laughter and thumps him on the chest. "Of course I do. I'm not kidding. You need something done?"
"My leg. But..."
"But what?"
"I can't pay you. I—"
Tyur engulfs both of Atom's shoulders in his massive hands and leans his face an inch from Atom's. His head is easily four times larger than that of an adult human's.
"There's no need for that, little one. Everyone in this city is a friend. We do what we do because we want to." He lets go of Atom in order to press something into his hands. "My card. My address. Come by after hours and I'll see about that leg." With that, he scurries down the rooftop stairs down to street level, and slips into the crowd. Atom quickly loses sight of him, despite his bulking mass.
He glances at the black business card in his hands and watches real-time as the text on the face of it transforms from gibberish to Cyrillic.
Slipping it into a deep pocket in his pants, Atom looks up and finds Robby once more beside him. Large eyes searching him. Always searching, ever patient.
He hands Atom a recyclable cup full of a sparkling purple liquid. It tastes like berries, and what you would expect mud to taste like as a child, and it tastes like opportunity.
"What else will you show me? I want to see it all."
And never from such a close distance. Sagittarius A*, the centermost point of the Milky Way, yawns within the window at the front of the cockpit. Atom's ship has been stationary for twenty minutes now, anchored in suspension, glued to the sight.
An ant before the giant.
The God of the Galaxy is a phenomenon so elusive it seems like an illusion. A black tar pit surrounded by a kaleidoscope disk of light and stardust. Bending and warping beyond the understanding of human sight. The hole's border, the event horizon, is clear cut. Light from the around the border does not bleed past the rim. Not even a little bit. It spins and spins all along its edge faster than light, but glows only outward, away from the all consuming pupil.
And it calls to him.
That black spot, darker than the coldest night, unmoving and yet seething with its immense presence, says his name. Atom feels the pull on his bones and eyes and lungs. His arms and legs and head. He spares a glance at his spatial coordinates to make sure the black hole isn't quite literally sucking them into its heart. The reading is the same as it was twenty minutes ago.
This is it. This is his goal, his final destination, his resting place. All he has left to do now is angle the ship parallel to the hole and make his way to the escape pod. From inside the pod, he would manually eject himself from the ship, and fall directly into the waiting arms of oblivion.
It would take hours, possibly days, for his coffin to reach the event horizon. It was even possible that he would die of pod malfunction before the hole had a chance to swallow him and tear him out of existence.
Robby and the ship would be long gone by then, to safety, to his galaxy. And the bomb would go off with or without the beating of Atom's heart to accompany it.
Checking his coordinates one last time, Atom unbuckles from the pilot seat. Robby is pressed up against the window to his left, fingers spread across the glass, drinking in the sight. But he turns at Atom's movement.
Unlatching his helmet, Atom slides it off and peels out of his suit. He crams them into a storage cubby and remains only in his thin Unity Keeper jumpsuit.
And then it is just the two of them. No sound passes from either astronaut. Only the center of the galaxy looms in the view between their bodies, waiting. But even if this moment stretched across the scape of a million years the right words would not come. Not in this language, nor Robby's. This is a land beyond life and death. This is a land beyond reason. And Atom is glad for it. He's had enough of reason. Of voices, pleading and prodding, accompanied by swords and blood. Soon there will be nothing. Not even the memory of this man or any other.
With a gentle nudge of the controls the ship glides into position. Atom updates the autopilot command to keep it locked in this state. Then he leaves the cockpit and follows a direct course down the length of the ship to the coffin.
Its narrow airlock hisses open with a certain finality to it. Once he crosses the threshold there will be no coming back.
The interior of the coffin is dimly lit, and small. Atom knows its height will accommodate his entire length from head to toe with room to spare. But he doubts he will have any ability to fully stretch his arms out in any other direction. One wall of the pod is lined with monitors and dials for life support. A small circular viewing window is embedded at roughly face-level. The other three walls are padded with shock absorbing panels and small intermittent lights. It's going to be a cramped and boring journey to the end.
Hovering in the frame of the airlock Atom allows himself a moment of reflection. Long overdue. But if he doesn't do it now, he never will. This is the end of the road. It's okay now to stand still at the precipice. To look at his toes hanging over the darkness.
And simply breathe.
Yet— Strangely, thoughts of Earth do not come. His mind reaches out tentatively for memories of home but his fingers only bump into cold rigid corpses, piled on top of one another. An unlit pyre. And in his other hand, a candle, dripping wax. The droplets succumb to gravity and fall down, painting the palm of a man he recognizes. Even here in this dark space without light, his gold eyes shine with pain and anger. All around them, limbs writhe in terror. Thousands of mouths open and close without making any noise. A clawed metal gauntlet grips him by his metal ankle. He'll have to shake it off in order to take the extra step needed to light the oiled rope coiled around the body of a fully suited Unity Keeper propped in front of him. In the reflection of its helmet he sees himself. Naked and drenched in deep red blood.
Closing his eyes once more Atom recounts a constellation in the form of a winged knight. It does nothing to alleviate the weight attached to his leg.
And what right does he have now to seek solace in comfort, to close his eyes against the actions he has committed in order to reach this point in time? There will be no escape from Atom's bomb. No solace. No survivors. Unless Maverick is right, and the elite have planned all along to fly to paradise while the rest of humanity burns. Can it be true? Has he really been so blind?
Every hair on Atom's neck stands to attention before he feels the chill of physical contact against his skin. From the base of his neck it slides around to his jaw and then his cheek and then across both eyes. The darkness is absolute. His breath catches, obstructed by the kiss that finds his lips. Featherlight. But solid.
The blindfold falls and Atom sees Robby, suitless and entirely bare.
In the shape of a tall man with skin dark and shifting and roiling with energy, but whole. His silhouette is solid against the white interior of the ship. Not a single tendril or plume escapes his perfect form. To the touch he is as smooth as marble and cold as glass in winter. His eyes are both wide and dim and visually are the complete inverse of the black hole outside.
The polar opposite of Atom's approaching future.
With his hands gliding across the surface of his marble-smooth skin, Atom wonders at the vibrations of fondness buzzing within him that reach for the other man. This stranger. This partner. This lover. How easily these vibrations find resonance in a body so alien.
He wonders at Robby's ability to hold himself together in zero gravity, and not disperse across the entire ship like he normally would. Is it difficult? Had he known he could do it? Or did he take a chance? For what purpose? Why take the risk? How long can he keep it together? Does it hurt?
These questions seep into Atom's bones, and he begins to shake. Not from fear of death. But of the enormity of the unknown and all that is nameless. He shakes with violence. He pictures his own skin unraveling and releasing his blood in an unstoppable burst of red.
He wonders if it will be quick. He wonders if it will hurt. He wonders if it will even matter, once it's all over. He wonders.
He wonders at the sound of snow falling in his ears. It builds and rises and blinds and buries him and it feels like baptization.
The shaking stops. The hiss of an airlock sliding shut is the nail on the coffin. And it is music to his ears.
A chance. A decision. A single step toward a new path.
The hand on the lock is whole, and human. The heart beating in his chest is human and wholly unwilling to come to a halt. His voice is clear when he again finds the hands of a stranger so familiar and asks him a question.
"Your home— will you take me there? I want—" This time there is no tightness that grips his throat. His breath passes freely. The words come easy.
"I want to go with you." Says Atom. "I want to see the place you came from."
Robby's eyes flare, and his hands grow warm and misty where Atom grips them. He says yes, yes, yes, and his body begins to fall apart. Atom scrambles to help Robby get back into his suit and he thinks he hears his own laughter amongst the shuffling and tangling of their bodies. Fueled by excitement they jet back to the command room and Robby wastes no time setting up a fresh warp procedure on the console while Atom secures himself in the passenger seat.
In the corner of the window, during the minutes before takeoff, Atom watches the disk of light and matter orbiting around the black hole. A phenomenon that dictates the entire fate of the galaxy, dragging billions of stars and planets and lifeforms in its wake, existing outside the rules of the universe as the sole giver of life to everything Atoms knows and loves.
And Atom thinks it is the most wonderful thing he has ever seen.
-
WAY OUT in the Leo A galaxy, nestled in a dense planetary system orbiting a binary star, is a supermassive planet Robby calls "cloud-sister". As they approach, Atom takes a few guesses as to how she got the name.
At both poles, two massive multi-colored storms rage with the betraying calmness that can only be perceived from space. Her middle is mostly clear, except for occasional jet streaks that break off from the main storms and trail thousands of miles in thin lines high above the mountainous ground.
And there are oceans. Lakes. Rivers. Electric blue free flowing water. The ground is green and brown and red and black and orange. The colors of possibility. The colors of life.
Robby confirms his train of thought. Atom contains his racing mind and absorbs the visual facts. As they breach the atmosphere the range of colors rushing to greet them is almost overwhelming. Robby coasts over ancient mountain ranges and canyons and hones in on what looks to be an ocean at first glance, which turns out to be an endless sea of lush blue-leafed trees.
They approach a clearing in the trees. In the center of the clearing is a circular cerulean lake. Robby tilts the nose of the ship towards it and cuts straight through the lake's surface. Submerged in its blue-green light, the ship comes to a slow, gentle stop. Then it begins floating toward the surface. A glance at the control panel shows it cooling down at record speed, but not so fast that it ran the danger of cracking the ship's metal casing.
Atom's hands are on his safety straps before the ship even bobs free of the suspension pool. He's on his feet and leaning his weight against the control panel, helmet pressed against the glass, as it finally clears and reveals fragments of Robby's planet through rivulets of the strange gooey liquid.
A hand on his back brings his attention to Robby.
I will take you to my home, he says. But first I must speak to the others. Tell them why I have been gone for so long.
"The others?"
The pilots. We have landed in the shipyard, and they will not recognize this ship. There will be questions. I can hear them! My brothers, my sisters, they are coming!
At the look Atom gives him, Robby rumbles low with laughter and rises from the pilot seat.
There is nothing to fear. They are my kin. But perhaps you should keep your suit on. For now. I do not wish for them to drown you in questions so soon.
Atom watches him strip from the spacesuit, revealing his solid body. Carbon black. Except for the burning white eyes on his otherwise featureless face. He reaches out to squeeze Atom's shoulder before heading to the airlock, light on his feet.
Throwing one last glance over his shoulder at the towering trees seen through the window, Atom follows him. "You said this is a shipyard?"
They are in the trees. Everything is within the trees. You will see.
The door shudders open and warm orange light pours in from outside. The green pool sparkles several meters below them. Gliding atop its surface towards their direction is a singular dark shape. Obsidian black and hovering just above the water is a ship, and on it Atom can spot the silhouettes of two of Robby's people. As they pull up to the side of Atom's ship, he can see that they are very tall, well over ten feet both, but otherwise featureless. Even more so than Robby. They have no arms or legs or any other appendages to speak for.
Roamer, says one of them, you have returned? And what has happened to you?
I am well. But due to unfortunate circumstances, I have lost my ship. I was only able to return thanks to the good grace of my friend here. His name is Atom. He calls himself a human. He is from Planet Earth.
Atom, they say, in echo. From their shapeless oblong bodies unfold a pair of long jointless hands that reach out to touch him, and Atom flinches despite himself. They don't seem deterred by the reaction, but Robby interferes.
Tomorrow, he insists. You may meet him tomorrow. For now I wish to show my friend my home. And see my mother.
Very well. It is so good to see you again, Roamer. The others will be glad to hear of it too.
It is good to be home, he says, and the joy radiating off of him is palpable.
Robby helps Atom board the Roamers' boat and when he steps onto its smooth black surface it doesn't bob under his weight. He takes a seat as closely to the center as he can, and wonders how this planet's sunlight might feel against his skin. Or how the water might feel slipping through his fingers. But the boat floats too high above the surface to find out.
By the time they reach the shore Robby has finished giving a brief retelling of his capture on Base Violet. As they pull up to a smooth stoney shore, Atom still can't see any other ships. Together with Robby he steps off the boat and the group of Roamers parts ways, slipping between the large towering trees with bark just as dark as their bodies. Very quickly Atom loses track of them.
He sticks close to Robby as he guides him along a twisted forest path until they come across a large felled tree. It's large trunk leans against the branches of its brothers, leaving a clear cut path through the dense foliage to the sky. Embedded in its gnarled exposed roots is a door. Robby swings it open and steps up into the hollowed out trunk and when he comes back out, he is seated on the back of a small hovering vehicle. He pats the spot behind him and says, hop on.
Atom shrugs and swings one leg over the side, and holds on tightly to Robby as they rise from the ground and use the fallen tree as a guiding ramp to shoot out above the forest. Up here, the forest stretches in every direction. Here and there, taller trees rise high above the others, but these are far and few between.
Robby steers the vehicle towards one such tree and picks up speed. In the far distance, rolling cloud tops glow almost pink under the sunlight.
As they near the giant blue tree, Atom can see that it is surrounded by an empty ring of space, which allows them to loop down and around the trunk until they land on dirt broken apart by massive snaking roots. Robby parks his vehicle in a hollowed crack in the base of the large tree and leads Atom down a blue stone path and through an archway of roots to a round stone plaza.
My hometown. This is where I grew up.
The trees are thinner here, and Atom sees through the gaps in the trees that there are houses here, carved from tree trunks and roofed with roots. Robby's home is a small hut framed by small blue saplings sprouting from its black walls. His mother, a shadow with twelve sets of hands sticking out the back of her head, sits in the yard, hard at work repairing some strange pile of machinery.
Robby calls out to her.
She looks up. And scrambles across the yard on three sets of legs.
The two of them embrace, becoming to Atom's eyes a single shadow. He hears her words in his mind, laced with sorrow and relief so strong they twist Atom's gut.
When you lost contact, I feared the worst.
I have returned, he says. I am home.
My little wanderer...
I am here. I am here.
Oh generous stars, thank you for bringing him back.
It wasn't the luck of the stars that guided me back. Robby steps back from his mother and reaches out to Atom. It was this star-speaker that brought me here on his ship. His name is Atom.
Robby's mother reaches out to him and Atom cautiously steps into her hug.
I thank you, star-speaker.
"It's no problem. He... Your son helped me, too. I'm glad to have seen him safely home."
Are you hungry? Does your species eat?
"Oh, yes. We do."
Plants? Meat? Bacteria? Sunlight?
"Meat sounds good."
Yes. There is a family of Zeev down the street. They raise their own Hujj Bugs. I'll go see if I can borrow some.
Without waiting for a response, she scampers away. Robby watches her go and pulses with joy.
She loves having guests over, he explains.
"Hujj Bugs?" Atom asks.
Robby shrugs. I cannot taste, remember?
"Of course."
If you want, you may take your suit off now. The villagers here won't bother you much. They aren't Roamers. They understand privacy.
Atom files away this information and follows Robby into the house. Robby points him to a room with a bed made of soft red moss. The floor underneath is white sand, and the walls drip with luminescent plant bulbs, filling the space with a soft orange glow. Atom swings his backpack to the floor and peels off the spacesuit.
The planetary air washes over him with a strong woodsy scent. Some other scent rides in its undercurrent but Atom doesn't know the words to describe it. He ties the arms of his jumpsuit around his middle and walks into the main room of the house just as Robby's mother flies through the main doorway with her hands full of purple wriggling creatures, with gold and blue spores jiggling from their fat-skinned backs.
They don't taste half as bad as they look, and after a filling meal Atom steps outside to allow Robby a personal moment with his mother. The sun has set now, and lit lanterns line the streets and lead Atom's legs to the plaza.
He finds a stone bench to sit on and observes a group of shadow children sitting in a huddle in the center of the plaza. Among them is a creature more fur than solid shape. Atom wonders if this is one of the Zeevs Robby's mother had mentioned. In the middle of their huddle is a large metal plate, and on it is a burning pile of flowers that smell sickly sweet and make whistling sounds with each pop of the flames. One of the shadow children notices Atom and breaks away from its friends.
Atom hears words in his head as the child approaches.
Luutoo says a Roamer came back with a newcomer today. Are you the newcomer? I have never seen anything like you before.
"Yeah, that's me."
Where are you from?
"Earth."
Oh. Is that far?
"Kind of. I've never been this far from home, that's for sure."
What's it like there?
Atom thinks about it. "Cold. Dry. Most of it is a wasteland. They say it used to be green and beautiful. It's hard to believe, now that I know what green and beautiful really means." Atom sweeps a hand toward the surrounding forest. "It seems nice here."
It is okay. I can not wait to grow up and become a Roamer, so that I can see all sorts of planets.
The child hops up onto the bench beside him.
Are you going to stay here? Most newcomers go to live in the all-city. It is rare for them to move here, in the village.
"I don't know. I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet."
Oh. That's okay.
Behind them, a flock of birds begins to sing. Atom looks around, trying to spot them, and his eyes catch on something else. Through the gaps in leaves above he sees and recognizes the three red stars from Robby's memory of this place. They slip out from behind a cover of clouds and wash the world in red light.
The birds grow louder, waking their friends, until the entire forest seems to bleed with their cries, screaming in reverence to the midnight suns.
-
HE WILL have to be documented soon, says Robby's mother over lunch the next day.
He will. In time, says Robby.
"What does that mean?"
Robby looks at him. Your data must be added to the Index. It is my job to do so.
"What is this index? What data?"
I have your molecular data. I must take it to the city and add it to the database library, along with all the other data I have collected on my travels, before I met you. It's what I do. I go to planets and absorb the data of everything. The rocks. The air. The creatures, if there are any. When I come home I transfer the information over to the library. This is what it means to be a planetary observer. Or in other words, a Roamer.
"What is the information used for?"
Documenting. So that we may build the largest pool of molecular knowledge in the universe.
Atom shifts, and Robby picks up on his discomfort. But he says, You have your missions. I have mine.
"No, it's fine. I've known about your ability to read molecules. I should have known you would have my data too. I just didn't consider what it could be used for."
Then I have your permission to transfer it?
"There's no harm in it?"
No. But the datakeepers might want to study you further... You are very interesting. But I do not wish for them to treat you as if you are a colorful stone, or a cute animal. You are more than that. You are my partner.
Robby reaches out to rest a hand on Atom's arm. His eyes glow softly, just inches away from Atom's.
When I get a new ship, I want you to be my copilot.
"What? As a Roamer? But I can't do what you can."
I want your company. And maybe it is time for us to start collecting physical samples as well.
"I'm no geologist."
But Atom can't deny the appeal of Robby's offer. As interesting as this planet is, Atom knows he can only stay grounded for so long before getting hit with star-fever. He'll be itching to go back to outer space sooner or later. For him, the itch always comes back.
"When are you getting a new ship?"
The sculptors are finishing one already. They say it will be ready for use in a week.
"So soon?"
We don't have to take off right away. If you'd like, I can take you to the shipyard to see the progress.
The shipyard, it turns out, is at the base of a massive crater in the ground, filled to the brim with tree roots and fog. A cauldron of creation, for through the fog Atom begins to see that these gnarled twisted shapes are no regular roots, but components for a high tech spaceship. Here, roots from trees are carved and molded into gears and wires and devices that have no human equivalent. Hexagonal disks, spiral exhaust valves, and pulsating containers for a substance Atom can only guess at. Great white lights trail all along the hull, shining like stars.
And the hull is the greatest component of all. A great hulking stalker of a ship, with long arching wings, customizable modules, and all of it bathed in the color of a moonless night.
At the heart of the ship is an open panel, exposing the guts of this deceptively simplistic machine. Bustling within its depths is a group of ship builders, "sculptors" as Robby calls them, hooking up a massive glowing core.
"What is that?" Atom asks.
The gravity drive. It simulates gravity on the ship. Allows us to function on board without the need for suits.
"What's it made of?"
Coldstar, a super dense ore found deep in this planet. It is what we all were born from, millions of years ago.
What are you borne from, human?
Atom takes a step back from the ship. "I don't know. The answer to that depends on who you ask. Some say God, some say primates. I say I came from my parent's need to feel significant for a moment. I wasn't born from love, I can tell you that."
A miracle nonetheless, no?
Atom looks at him. That isn't the word he would use, but he decides not to argue. "The real miracle is how I ended up in a place like this."
That was no miracle. That was your choice.
His choice.
Atom recalls how it felt to stand at the edge of choice. The memory shoves a shiver down his spine. And he asks himself, am I sure this isn't all a dream? What if I really did make the other decision? Did my body collapse into a million small pieces as I touched the edge of the black hole? Is this all a hallucination conjured by my final thoughts?
Robby's hand on his shoulder is cold. A symptom of reality.
Come, there's somewhere else I want to take you.
At the base of the great tree outside Robby's village, Robby guides him down a stoneless path in the opposite direction of the village entrance. The forest floor under their feet hints that there may have once been a path here, but now there is only moss and dirt. And a deafening silence.
Robby's back in front of him offers no sign of being affected by the brilliant sunlight trickling down on their heads. Atom begins to sweat from his exposed scalp.
The trail goes on for at least a mile, possibly more, and ends in a steep rising ridge topped with thin trees that make up for their meager berth in height. As they near the ridge the moss below becomes increasingly covered in a fine dusting of something white and sparkling.
It's just up here, says Robby.
He precedes Atom up the ledge. Using exposed roots as footholds, Atom climbs after him, and emerges in a clearing. He steps over a petrified log and his boots touch sand white as flour, sparkling with minerals. Beyond that, easing against the shore in a lazy rhythm, is an ocean. Beautiful and blue and familiar.
I cannot swim. But since I was a child I have enjoyed coming here. This is my favorite place.
Atom hears him but his mind... drifts. Out. And. Away.
On the first planet Robby had taken him to, there had been a beautiful frozen lake, ringed by giant frozen beasts. On the weaver planet there was a river, providing life to a village of gardeners and the valley of flowers in which they lived. On Rhimmih, at the base of the chaotic city of Seine, was the Great Blue sea.
But the sight before him now is different. The calm blue waters lapping at the edge of a delicate sand beach wrenches something from Atom. Something he didn't know still existed within.
Atom stumbles. His fingers land in plush sand softer than anything he has ever felt and he keeps going. Sandy fingers claw at the zipper at his neck and he fights his way out of his ratty uniform stiff with sweat and dirt and stardust. It catches at the belt around his waist and he falls again when he tries to pull off his boots. Half-stumbling, half-running, his bare feet crash into the water and then he's crawling. Ice water seizes him, sloshes against his bare arms and throat, tears all sensation from his body and he submerges his head, his entire self, under the water and into the deep.
Dripping, he emerges. Ocean water and glimmering salt and tears, dripping. Chest heaving, palms crushed against his face. Soaking and so cold.
Overflowing.
Chest deep in the ocean Atom stands and cries.
It isn't home.
It isn't Earth.
And Atom wishes—with every fiber of his being, with every bone and muscle and cell, with every ATOM in his body he yearns for it. For the smell of snow at the dawn of a new day. For the cleansing chill of the Pacific. For the ancient pull of Earth's moon on his blood.
Atom opens his eyes. There is no moon in the sky. Only a pink setting sun, sinking into the distant horizon.
It takes a part of him with it.
A different part. A newer part. A part that hasn't yet had the time to plant roots.
His feet carry him back to the shore. Robby stands at the edge of the waves, radiating questions. Atom has no answers.
Sand remains stuck to his skin when they return to the village. Robby's mother asks if he is alright as soon as he steps foot in her yard, but he says he feels sick, and retreats to the guest room. But once he's inside he finds the room terribly quiet, and he seeks to fill it with noise. He takes his knife and starts the process of sharpening it. But no, that isn't the right noise. He punches the walls until the skin on his knuckles ooze red, but that isn't right either.
The sound of his lungs heaving in the narrow space makes him want to scream.
Reaching into his backpack Atom takes out a heavy silver brick of a device. The chrome case is smudged with fingertips in rings around the various buttons. Atom presses the on switch and extends the antennae. Quiet static outpours from the speakers. At first, this is fine. Until it isn't. And the numbers already waiting on the small screen on the front face of the long range radio burn his eyes.
A click, a few seconds of silence, followed by another click.
Then a voice. Smooth and warm. It speaks his name in a question.
Atom inhales and can not answer. His voice has gone, sank to the bottom of an ocean, out of reach. His finger hovers on the red button to disconnect. And then the man on the other end speaks again.
"Those birds sure sound nice, wherever you are." He says. Atom lifts his head and becomes aware of his wider surroundings. Somewhere out of sight, a dozen midnight birds are chirping. When did night fall?
"Best noise I've heard in days. You know how rough these flights can be."
Atom knows it well. He lowers his head into his hands and remembers.
"Atom?" Says the voice. Minutes later the midnight stars set move out of view and the birds fall silent. Not even the whisper of a trail of wind is present to disturb the leaves of trees overhead.
"Atom?"
The red button doesn't complain when Atom severs the connection. He turns off the radio and buries it to the bottom of his backpack. His back hits the bed. For hours, sleep eludes him. Drifting just out of his grasp. At dawn Atom rolls to his feet and marches through the morning mist until the moss under his heavy feet turns to sand.
He sits down in the shade, well out of the water's reach, and shoves his backpack off his shoulders. It takes longer for Maverick to answer when Atom calls his frequency again. But the call goes through, and this time no words are spoken from either of them. The crash of waves is thunder in Atom's heart. He lets it wash over him until a burst of static pulls his mind back to the radio still gripped tightly in his hands. The screen tells him the call is still connected, but Atom breaks off and stands up.
-
THE DATABASE tower is an obelisk set in the center of a bustling city populated by hundreds of different lifeforms, all intelligent, all unique, and all coexisting in this sprawling metropolis. Robby tells him that each of these lifeforms is a delegate from their planet, living here to learn. And to teach.
The obelisk itself is a dark windowless monument that rises higher than anything else, like a godly spear left in the ground from a time long passed.
Robby leads him through the open archway into a seemingly hollow chamber. The lamp given to him by Robby does nothing to illuminate the heavy shadows overhead. The ground underfoot is a single narrow platform leading to the center of the cylindrical tower. At the end of the walkway is a giant black boulder. Atom leans over the railing surrounding it to gauge its size and finds it floating over a deep dark pit.
"How far down does this tower go?"
All the way to the sister's heart. The center of the planet. There are towers like these all over the surface.
"Oh." Atom takes several large, careful steps away from the railing. Robby walks up to the boulder and places both hands on its jagged surface. From his palms, intricate glowing symbols seep into the stone's skin. Intertwined and overlapping. The transfer is quick, but it takes a toll on Robby's body. He loses control of his solidity, and becomes a hazy suggestion, rather than the replicant of a human silhouette. Still, he insists on showing Atom around the city.
The obelisk is surrounded on all ends by white marble stairs. From this height, the all-city seems infinite in size. And in a way, it is. Skyscrapers and sky bridges and rivers and parks and long snaking transport ships leave no room to doubt its unparalleled existence.
On the back of Robby's hoverbike, they drop down into the city streets. Atom sees all kinds of lifeforms. Some are animalistic, some humanoid, some with eight arms and elaborate frilled necks and eyes blinking from their spines. Some are blue, some are green, some are brown. Most of them are taller than Atom. When Robby parks on the roof of a juice shop, a crowd of pea-sized citizens disembark from one of those snake-shaped vehicles. It seems to function as a bus.
With his eyes on its receding form he doesn't notice the man coming towards him, distractedly speaking into a device at his ear, until they collide. Something drops to the ground between their bodies. Atom bends to pick it up.
"Sorry," He says, and with his hand on the spine of a magazine he sees its owner's legs. They are entirely made out of metal. When his eyes rise up to the man's face he sees it too, is made of metal. Gray chrome, with a slightly blue shine to it. And the man is very large.
"That's alright, young one. I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you new in town? Haven't seen anyone like you before."
Atom hears his voice, sees the words make strange shapes on the man's metallic mouth, and recognizes the sounds as foreign. But once the information hits his brain Atom understands him.
"Uh, yes."
"'Course you are. Had the same look on my face the first few months I lived here. Nothing else like it in the universe. And I've been everywhere."
"No kidding?"
The man laughs. "Of course I'm kidding!" He laughs so hard he starts to wheeze. "'No kidding?' he says. Funniest damn thing I've heard all year. Living in a city full of scholars has its perks but the luxury of corner street comedians is not one of them. Tell you what, if you've got any more jokes in you, stop by my clinic sometime. Name's Tyur. And I've got to run." Taking the magazine from Atom's hands, he swings a heavy black coat over one large, metal, shoulder. "Not enough surgeons in this damn hodgepodge." He mumbles.
Atom perks up. "Surgeon?"
"Yeah, surgeon. I take people apart and sometimes I even put them back together. You got anything like that where you're from?"
Atom looks at the sun reflecting off the man's mechanical hands when he asks, "Do you install prosthetics?"
Tyur looks at him. "Do I look like the kind of guy who does prosthetics?"
When Atom doesn't answer, Tyur doubles over in laughter and thumps him on the chest. "Of course I do. I'm not kidding. You need something done?"
"My leg. But..."
"But what?"
"I can't pay you. I—"
Tyur engulfs both of Atom's shoulders in his massive hands and leans his face an inch from Atom's. His head is easily four times larger than that of an adult human's.
"There's no need for that, little one. Everyone in this city is a friend. We do what we do because we want to." He lets go of Atom in order to press something into his hands. "My card. My address. Come by after hours and I'll see about that leg." With that, he scurries down the rooftop stairs down to street level, and slips into the crowd. Atom quickly loses sight of him, despite his bulking mass.
He glances at the black business card in his hands and watches real-time as the text on the face of it transforms from gibberish to Cyrillic.
Slipping it into a deep pocket in his pants, Atom looks up and finds Robby once more beside him. Large eyes searching him. Always searching, ever patient.
He hands Atom a recyclable cup full of a sparkling purple liquid. It tastes like berries, and what you would expect mud to taste like as a child, and it tastes like opportunity.
"What else will you show me? I want to see it all."