11-13-2016, 12:26 PM
As Kelly traveled through the Nexus, he tried to remember. Now that he had a destination solidly in mind, and a little information to be getting on with, he could afford to spend his travel-time on less immediate concerns.
It was hard, like trying to grab smoke. He started at the beginning, thinking as far back as he could. There was less of a memory there, more the memory of the idea of a memory, of an insufferably condescending and supremely unhelpful glowing shape giving him superpowers. Of course, that had just happened, but this didn't feel the same.
After that there was a general impression of panic and loss, and a single gut-wrenching flash of crouching in the aisle of a burning pharmacy, the scent of fire and gunpowder and burning plastic clinging to his clothes and polluting the smoke-filled air, desperately trying to put his lacerated arm back together with superglue and band-aids.
Kelly wanted to know more about that, but there was nothing around it but ghosts. It had no context. Every really concrete shred of recollection he had was the same way: A picnic on rolling green hills, giving a lecture on cell biology, the strangely cold feeling of being torn apart by a creature made of living glass.
The unholy sound of a river, flowing through a burning canyon, made of molten, screaming faces.
The traveler was so intent on trying to put his mind back together that when a cat-eared girl half his size came tearing out of the oppressive whiteness at top speed he didn't try to sidestep until it was far, far too late. The best he could manage was a clumsy safety-fall, and then it took a moment to put together what had just happened.
When he regained his focus, the girl was offering to help him up, asking if he was alright. He thought for a moment, studying her, then took the offered hand and said, "It's fine. I wasn't looking where I was going either, and I assure you, I've had worse."
It was hard, like trying to grab smoke. He started at the beginning, thinking as far back as he could. There was less of a memory there, more the memory of the idea of a memory, of an insufferably condescending and supremely unhelpful glowing shape giving him superpowers. Of course, that had just happened, but this didn't feel the same.
After that there was a general impression of panic and loss, and a single gut-wrenching flash of crouching in the aisle of a burning pharmacy, the scent of fire and gunpowder and burning plastic clinging to his clothes and polluting the smoke-filled air, desperately trying to put his lacerated arm back together with superglue and band-aids.
Kelly wanted to know more about that, but there was nothing around it but ghosts. It had no context. Every really concrete shred of recollection he had was the same way: A picnic on rolling green hills, giving a lecture on cell biology, the strangely cold feeling of being torn apart by a creature made of living glass.
The unholy sound of a river, flowing through a burning canyon, made of molten, screaming faces.
The traveler was so intent on trying to put his mind back together that when a cat-eared girl half his size came tearing out of the oppressive whiteness at top speed he didn't try to sidestep until it was far, far too late. The best he could manage was a clumsy safety-fall, and then it took a moment to put together what had just happened.
When he regained his focus, the girl was offering to help him up, asking if he was alright. He thought for a moment, studying her, then took the offered hand and said, "It's fine. I wasn't looking where I was going either, and I assure you, I've had worse."