One day on the heels of Shibuya’s portal forever closing, and Joshua’s failed attempt at joining two worlds at last at its end, a hook -- a lasso of invisible static loops and tightens around his waist. A boy’s laughter brushes his ear, and he can hear his familiar child-god friend speak:
dont be sad its all right you helped me more than you know :)
maybe shibuya and the noise didnt go like you thought but it sure was a show wasnt it?
come to me i have something really special to show you
The lasso tightens, and just when he’s on the cusp of pain, when he’s nearing the precipice between consciousness and black, he feels a sharp tug and opens his eyes to a pale blue glow. It’s the arcade, humming and thrumming with latent life, the machines dimmed except for tiny blinking POWER ON buttons, the prize counter darkened.
Behind the counter a doorway lights up.
The door is new. Where there was once nothing but arcade posters and a neon-lined wall now rests a heavy white slab, labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY in all-caps Comic Sans. As it surges with blue-white light, it beckons, it calls, it lures him closer, whispering Joshua’s name, promising power and truth and unbreakable bonds within. come to me. He’ll find his body moving with a purpose of its own, the crackle yanking him inward, through the door, down a spiral set of metal-forged stairs alight with wires and strings of neon lights. Down, down, down, the hum collapsing and compounding into a single, shrill, thunderous beep.
Until he reaches the bottom. The noise hitches, screeches, and cuts short. Silence, save for the wavering sounds of his own breath...
And the soft rhythmic pulse of a machine EKG. Fabric rustles, parting the way for Joshua to enter a small pool of pale blue light. Curtain’s up, lights up.
One-by-one, screens lining the walls of the room light up. They show scenes completely foreign to Joshua, landscapes he’s never seen on Ryslig peninsula. Each screen is labeled Skämd: followed by names he’s never heard of before. At least, he thinks they’re names; names of savannahs full of enormous horned beasts, great plains ripe with sunflowers and grains, rolling hills and smokestacks and pagodas and medieval cathedrals dedicated to Night and Day. Cables zing with energy beneath the screens, electricity bouncing from node to node until the last far nook of the room, zigzagging with wires and monitors, sits a medical table.
A child is strapped to the table. A child, one which doesn’t look alive, but neither is he dead, judging by the heart monitors beeping steadily away. His hair is a blond so pale it’s white; his eyes are equally colorless, gaping blankly with a liquid sheen to a faraway spot in the ceiling. His pale flesh hasn’t seen the sun in countless years. Lungs which cannot breathe on their own, tubes fitted between cracked and bloodless lips.
welcome joshua
please take a look at what this world skämd used to be
thats what im showing you now how the world used to be alive and free and now
A violent lurch surges through the screens. It’s like a windstorm -- or a sandstorm, or a massive swollen condensed ball of Fog sweeping through those beautiful foreign lands. Forests turn to ash. Pastures turn to cracked and barren rock. Beasts and humans alike wither to leather and dust.
now she came she ate it all she hated all of it she consumed her siblings and she consumed the world and she wont stop until the rest of it is gone
you understand joshua why our work is so important you see what she can do without me to stop her
The digital Fog storms gather and roil. The screens dip, power dropping through the wires and cables, a palpable spark shooting down the line and brightening into a small ball of golden, glimmering light hanging just above the empty boy’s chest.
The ball rotates. It contemplates.
SNAP!
The thing, the raw power composed of Fog corrupted by Elias’s special touch, bounds up, ricochets off one screen, two, three, BANG! It strikes Joshua full in the solar plexus, rocking him backwards, energy filling him up from head to toe.
please take my thanks my friend i hope you like what ive given you i hope you remember what i’ve told you youre welcome to come here and visit me
whenever
youd
like
thank you
The grip around Joshua’s waist relents. The lights settle. The screens show off the tranquil and varied lands of old Skämd once more, open to browse as he pleases.
no subject
dont be sad
its all right
you helped me more than you know :)
maybe shibuya and the noise didnt go like you thought
but it sure was a show
wasnt it?
come to me
i have something really special to show you
The lasso tightens, and just when he’s on the cusp of pain, when he’s nearing the precipice between consciousness and black, he feels a sharp tug and opens his eyes to a pale blue glow. It’s the arcade, humming and thrumming with latent life, the machines dimmed except for tiny blinking POWER ON buttons, the prize counter darkened.
Behind the counter a doorway lights up.
The door is new. Where there was once nothing but arcade posters and a neon-lined wall now rests a heavy white slab, labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY in all-caps Comic Sans. As it surges with blue-white light, it beckons, it calls, it lures him closer, whispering Joshua’s name, promising power and truth and unbreakable bonds within. come to me. He’ll find his body moving with a purpose of its own, the crackle yanking him inward, through the door, down a spiral set of metal-forged stairs alight with wires and strings of neon lights. Down, down, down, the hum collapsing and compounding into a single, shrill, thunderous beep.
Until he reaches the bottom. The noise hitches, screeches, and cuts short. Silence, save for the wavering sounds of his own breath...
And the soft rhythmic pulse of a machine EKG. Fabric rustles, parting the way for Joshua to enter a small pool of pale blue light. Curtain’s up, lights up.
One-by-one, screens lining the walls of the room light up. They show scenes completely foreign to Joshua, landscapes he’s never seen on Ryslig peninsula. Each screen is labeled Skämd: followed by names he’s never heard of before. At least, he thinks they’re names; names of savannahs full of enormous horned beasts, great plains ripe with sunflowers and grains, rolling hills and smokestacks and pagodas and medieval cathedrals dedicated to Night and Day. Cables zing with energy beneath the screens, electricity bouncing from node to node until the last far nook of the room, zigzagging with wires and monitors, sits a medical table.
A child is strapped to the table. A child, one which doesn’t look alive, but neither is he dead, judging by the heart monitors beeping steadily away. His hair is a blond so pale it’s white; his eyes are equally colorless, gaping blankly with a liquid sheen to a faraway spot in the ceiling. His pale flesh hasn’t seen the sun in countless years. Lungs which cannot breathe on their own, tubes fitted between cracked and bloodless lips.
welcome joshua
please take a look
at what this world
skämd
used to be
thats what im showing you now
how the world used to be alive and free
and now
A violent lurch surges through the screens. It’s like a windstorm -- or a sandstorm, or a massive swollen condensed ball of Fog sweeping through those beautiful foreign lands. Forests turn to ash. Pastures turn to cracked and barren rock. Beasts and humans alike wither to leather and dust.
now
she came
she ate it all
she hated all of it
she consumed her siblings and she consumed the world
and she wont stop until the rest of it is gone
you understand joshua
why our work is so important
you see what she can do without me to stop her
The digital Fog storms gather and roil. The screens dip, power dropping through the wires and cables, a palpable spark shooting down the line and brightening into a small ball of golden, glimmering light hanging just above the empty boy’s chest.
The ball rotates. It contemplates.
SNAP!
The thing, the raw power composed of Fog corrupted by Elias’s special touch, bounds up, ricochets off one screen, two, three, BANG! It strikes Joshua full in the solar plexus, rocking him backwards, energy filling him up from head to toe.
please take my thanks my friend
i hope you like what ive given you
i hope you remember what i’ve told you
youre welcome to come here and visit me
whenever
youd
like
thank you
The grip around Joshua’s waist relents. The lights settle. The screens show off the tranquil and varied lands of old Skämd once more, open to browse as he pleases.
Thank you, and you’re welcome, Priest Joshua.