Episode 2: A Beacon of Light

It seems ages ago now since my last attempt at skitting out of this godforsaken system, but now the Wayfarer’s engine is dead and I wander, searching for clues as to the whereabouts of Infinitium stores on this planet, if there even are any, to refuel, recalibrate, and then get back to the weightlessness of deep space and the thrill of navigating asteroid fields at 3.23x SoL. It became clear to me long ago that I was not meant for extended terrestrial sojourns, but the universe has, once again, dealt Kordar & I a bad hand, and it must be played to the end - ad astra per aspera.

I have found refuge just outside the business district, a place that is known by the locals as The City on a Hill, or the Lonely Throne. While I understand the direct implication of both of these titles - that it is indeed on a hill and that there was a battle for the municipal seat, once, long ago - the residents appear to put some sort of reverence to the name and in this regard I do not understand their human logic; there is a darkness that permeates the streets, and from it, screams of desperation echo through the night, ignored by the oligarchs who squeeze the life from it.

Approximately 21 terrestrial rotations prior to this log entry, I was deep into the City on a Hill’s local network, jacked into my deck, hacking the mainframe of a dark cyberary that is rumored to contain information regarding Earthly Infinitium - hardly comparable to Void Infinitium, but it will suffice in a pinch. Kordar was sitting sentry as I peeled back the layers of the web, and while I appreciate his stoicism, I also like to think I’m good enough at camouflaging myself and covering my tracks that it’s somewhat unnecessary.

Which is why I was a bit surprised when Kordar sounded the alarm. I jacked out quickly, flipped the deck back into the antimatter case I keep it in to keep suspicious eyes off of me, and turned on my neurostims to better parse the environment once I emerged from my hideout. The thing about neurostims, though the output quality in the ideal conditions is superb, is that they’re a relatively dated and dumb technology, enhancing anything you throw into it, and so it’s a wise person who scries the next 5 minutes or so to make sure they won’t be blindsided by sensory overload. In my surprised state, I suppose I was a bit hasty, and flipped the switch without a second thought. When I emerged, a searingly bright beacon lit up the night sky, stark in contrast to the listless, hazy, neon lights of the Hill, and I was blind...

...For a moment, but as I adjusted to my now turbocharged senses, I noticed the unmistakable spectral signature of that beacon: Infinitium, or very near. I signaled to Kordar, and we jumped on a lightbike, headed south down the opensource freeway towards the signal. We briefly navigated by sight, but once Kordar’s advanced navcom meshed with the raw beams of information broadcast overhead, our route was clear and we were able to kick the bike into high gear. The rain, which had begun as a drizzle, was now ferociously pelting the Earth, and it streamed horizontal as we sped towards the beacon. Lightbiking is always a trip on neurostims.

But as we approached, the beacon dimmed briefly, and then shut off entirely, leaving us hard up and worn down, wondering where that signal could’ve come from and what it was made of. Was it Infinitium, and if so, how could we access it? I needed to think, which isn’t the easiest thing to do on neurostims, but I ducked into a nearby local bar anyway, leaving Kordar to guard our transportation in this unfamiliar territory of The Beacon.

Where the Beacon’s light had faded, the spectacle presented in the establishment was a appreciable replacement: staggered strobes of red and blue, musicians in wispy, psychedelic dresses of glowing pink and yellow wielding dangerous, iron machines of sonic destruction amidst a throng of writhing, gyrating bodies. This was my kind of place sober, much more so with the neurostims still massaging my neurotransmitters into psychic ecstasy.

As I sat there, enjoying the spectacle of the largely human crowd, the flavors of the amber liquid sitting in a crystal glass sweating on the wooden counter in front of me, the vibrations in the air, a sudden chill came over me, and as it did I felt someone staring intently at me from behind. I turned to face the unknown pair of eyes, and in doing so the neurostims seemed to cut out, my vision narrowed, my hearing became muted, and you, whom I first glimpsed in the I District following the Wayfarer’s emergency landing, were standing perhaps 10 meters in front of me, occupying every sensory space my body is capable of filling with perceptual data.

You had put yourself together much differently than last time; less regal, more aggressive. Your hair was an even deeper shade of Asthraxian teal than before, the first suggestion I had of a more bolder disposition. The teal tapered off into a glowing, rusty auburn, and you had it braided into an encircling tiara, much like those worn on Q’leziat by their celebrated warriors.

Your dress appeared to be crafted of Rha’soxian silverthread, eternally blurring the lines between form and absence. You could have been part of the room in that dress but for the outlandish Mammoth Tusks you had welded to the metallic yarn, anchoring you to your existence and none other. A bold move, indeed.

Even at that distance, our eyes were locked, magnetic waves traveling through even the thickest walls of human flesh, drawing us to each other. As you came closer, a warmth grew in my chest not dissimilar to the effects of Y’rgdrassi Karthimore leaf but without the existential fuzziness and involuntary vomiting. “Odd,” I thought to myself, “this is not a reaction that I would have anticipated.” My experience with the psychedelic is only matched by my experience with deep space and deep networks, but this was unfamiliar, or at least very distant in memory. I was intrigued, enticed.

Your approach seemed to take hours, every moment of which I forgot more and more of the world around me except for you. But then you stopped, so close but yet so far, standing bright and stark, much like the Beacon that had drawn me here, beautiful in so many ways more than the word could possibly communicate. And then, in that moment of near perfect spatiopsychic integration and intimacy, so close to accessing the magnificence of your soul, you jast without notice, disappearing into the ether, and leaving me alone once again.

I returned to my seat, sat down, and finished my drink. I paid the bill, reactivated Kordar, and shot onto the opensource freeway back towards the City on the Hill. In bed that night, 2 things haunted my thoughts, and then my dreams: Infinitium, and you.