The umbra stirs. It encircles me. Swallowing me whole. Indulging me with its sweet and endearing caresses. Cushioning my fall from grace. Cradling me in its arms like a fallen sparrow with a broken wing. I feel safe, carefree, and blissful. Its soothing presence takes me back to the nostalgia of my childhood home when I was visited by that shadow, an oddly comforting memory.
"Alex."
It lays me down to rest - gently as a feather. Then a familiar blue shines through the serene blackness. I sit up and rub my eyes. Adjusting to the annoyance of an incoming bright light. I blink twice in disbelief. The shard shoots up to my face, clearly having no concept of personal space whatsoever.
Then again, why would a chunk of metal need to know about that?
Speaking of which, how the hell did it end up down here? You know what, scratch that, I don't even want to know. I gaze up at the darkness. I should have died after falling from that height – and yet somehow I'm still alive. I re-examine my injury to find it has stopped bleeding – for now.
How peculiar.
"Hastening our efforts is crucial - for time is against us." A voice infiltrates the forefront of my mind, interrupting my examination. That voice. I've heard it before. I think it's the same one from earlier – and I can understand it?
Wait – time is against us? Is he referring to my personal encounter with the fourth kind?
"Whether you approve of my efforts or not, your mortality is predisposed to endangerment, therefore liable." I snort at his claim.
"Efforts? What efforts? All I can see is..."
Hold on. These can't be.
"Are you the one manipulating all of these cords? And the shard as well?"
"Affirmative and negative."
"If you're not controlling the shard, then who is?"
"It is autonomous; to clarify, you have activated an anatomical component of mine - a piece of myself. It aims to reunite with its former host, to become one with it; however, this component originates from an upgraded model, one I do not recognise and is incompatible."
It is a part of him, and yet it wants to reunite with a body that doesn´t exist?
Does the owner of the voice have an actual form to begin with?
"Do you know why it brought me here?"
"I do not." He doesn´t know either. Wonderful. I bury my face in my hands and groan loudly. None of this makes any bloody sense. I remove my hands from my face.
"Then I'm wasting my time."
"It has brought you here for a reason I cannot fathom. Nonetheless, I surmise it wishes to be humored? It wants you to follow it." The shard wants to reunite with a body that doesn't exist? Why was it abandoned in my subconscious of all places?
I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow. "How do you know if it's your component?"
"The radiance it emits is energy residue; a lingering extract of my life-force."
"Can't you deal with this predicament yourself? You seem more than capable."
"I cannot. My present constitution is restrictive and strenuous to manoeuvre. It is not wise or pragmatic."
"Commence scanning."
"Wait, what? Hold on a minute!"
"Revaluating soul and anatomical coding. Searching for a non-existent model. Identifying. Previous model found. Designation - Reven."
"Is that your name?"
"I do not have a name; however, if you wish to use it to address me as such, you can. May I ask what the designation of your current model is?"
I have to admit, the question does throw you off a little.
"Alex."
So many questions, so little time.
Whenever I'm out of my comfort zone, I fall into the habit of relying on familiarity. There is a permanent mental tug pulling me back, robbing me of my confidence to venture into something new. Bringing me back to what I already know. I'm not used to having someone in my head. Using telepathy feels odd yet natural. Contradictive. To use my normal voice, opposed to exercising an inner one, is counterproductive, I know, but it's something I've grown up with. I don't want to feel like an inexperienced idiot; however, in doing so, I've become an ignorant one instead. He communicates with me through a telepathic channel, via some sort of mental and spiritual link. The only way to describe it, it was a bit like tuning into a radio inside your mind.
"This way." The shard guides me to an exiting tear at the end of the cord-constructed passage. On the other side, stygian mechanical bodies are strewn along the floor. Limbs bent in awkward and unnatural angles, hanging out of their sockets. Puddles of clear liquid submerge their lifeless and contorted forms.
A body is flung across the room and reduced to bodily spatter on the wall.
Situated in the heart of the enclosed bowl-structured space is a wild frenzy. Gigantic cords rooted into a battered meteorite of solid steel are lashing out at anything within a close radius. Slamming down upon the opposition with a reverberating wham and sending them flying. Mangled carcasses pile up in mountainous heaps. More incoming armed forces pour their numbers out into the chaotic scene, despite the fruitless one-sided massacre. They slash through the cords with phantom blades protracted from their forceps, adamant to overcome its rampage - even if their efforts are short-lived.
"You're not expecting me to go out there, are you?"
"No harm shall come to you, for you are my responsibility."
The shard brought me up here without my consent. He should feel responsible. It is a part of him after all.
"How can you guarantee I won't be killed?"
"Follow the remnant. It will lead you through my offensive defense. Once you arrive at the core, you shall be safe there." He didn't give me a straightforward answer. He merely danced around it. There's something not quite right with him.
"I – I can't." I admitted to him.
"It is imperative that we meet each other halfway, for our collaborative feat will ensure your survival."
Haven't I been through enough for today? Digressing from one situation to another without stopping is utter madness. My complacency with dying alone on the streets was one thing, but to suffer a gruesome death is another. I can't. To experience such an undeserving and unimaginable agony, I can't do it. I thought I had seen it all when I was on Earth. I genuinely believed it couldn't get any worse, but all I did was scrape the tip of the iceberg.
Now, my fate lies in the hands of extraterrestrials and those alike. The possibility of being crushed and mangled unnerves me.
Was I truly in denial during those years? Perhaps forfeiting my mortality does bother me after all. I have no home to return to. No prospects. My friends and family do not want to know. I have lost everything, including myself.
I've got nothing else to lose.
All I can see ahead is certain death, waiting for me. I don't want to die, but if it's written in the stars, then I want to spend my potential final moments in the vehement midst of glorious chaos. Flirting between the limits of life and death. To fulfill my inner yearning to know what it feels like to be truly alive again - even if it's for a mere second.
I refuse to perish as a shell.
I want to go out with a bang!
"Alright, I'll do it, but if I die, continue on without me." He doesn't respond, except for my inner voice.
"What if you do survive, what then?"
I can't think that far ahead right now. I dismiss the"what if " and grab the whetted confines of the tear, still weary of my wound. I step through. The shard zooms ahead of me into the wide-open conflict. I initiate a chase. Sprinting through the full-scale monstrous rampage, amongst the maimed corpses and severed limbs, threatening to hinder my pursuance. I look upward as well as directly ahead. Afraid to lose sight of my navigator and trip over my own feet while chasing the blue-tailed comet as it weaves through the havoc. An occasional brush of brisk movement sweeps across my crown, missing me by a hair. At least he is making an effort not to decapitate me during his rampant assault. What the hell is he?
"When you arrive at your destination, allow the component to react to my core. Once its ambition has been reached, do not move - and observe."
My breaths are becoming ragged, and my legs feel as heavy as lead. I push myself further. Trying to keep up. Pouring all of my vigour into chasing the steel comet. Zigzagging for the remainder of the way. I crouch down beside the core while catching my breath. I cup my hands together as the shard slowly descends from above. It hovers between my palms, displaying some spatial awareness by not touching my injury.
Why did you bring me here, knowing full well you could have done this yourself?
In fact, you never needed me at all. So why? Why me? The remnant was born from a dream of nostalgia. Memories can carry fondness and pain, especially those pertaining to deceased loved ones.
Then all of a sudden, a specific yet profound impulse creeps underneath my skin. It slithers between my bones, prompting my fingers to involuntarily twitch.
As long as you are in my possession, you belong to me, and I will use you in any way I see fit.
This isn't me!
You will suffer an agony that is worth a thousand lifetimes, and by the time I am through with you, you will not be able to recognise yourself.
Only through death can you meet salvation.
I will not yield to this unfounded desire, challenging my resilience. Using all of the self-control I can muster to refrain from clutching the shard again, I shove the impelling inclination into the dark chasms of my subconscious before it escalates any further. Disappointment and frustration replace the possessiveness. I ignore it and bury it deeper into the darkest depths of my embittered soul.
I lean in and whisper to the tangible remnant of a dream.
"Do what you need to do, and do it quickly!"
It glides over to the facet of steel and sheds its argentine shell to reveal pure energy from within. The residual apparition passes through the steel and fades out of sight, merging with the core.
Finally unifying as one.
It faded the same way as my dream, and yet it served a role beyond my comprehension.
"Overriding primary command, and all destinations." The core glows with an untainted blue aura, matching the shard's radiance. Another plethora of whipping threads manifests from the core's auric field. Growing in length and width while encasing themselves in a coat of alloy. Then a harsh tug hooks the collar of my shirt and drags me backwards onto my feet, away from the core.
Apprehended by an eight-eyed technological humanoid. I squirm in its mechanical hold as the fabric is pulled up against my throat.
It mutters to itself while short of breath, as it hauls me away from the focal point of conflict...