Fiction:Realities Altered/Dysnomia/The Blue

Rebound to the Place of Memories
There was once a boy, alone and frightened, who would spend his days restricted and bound to the earth and dirt beneath his feet, grounded to spend his life condemned and confined to the furthest and darkest reaches of the cosmos' industrial planes of cities and ecumenopoleis. The boy had been an outcast, a vile and unwanted pox upon society and left with no place nor possession to call his own for what he once gained had been lost and forgotten, including his priceless memories of what he once had aside from a single topic of his own interest; his name. Unlike everything and everybody else, it had been with him for his whole life and he had never lost it upon his aching travels. It was his, it would always be his. But would it be a name remembered? Aside from himself, he never thought so. He wasn't a legend, he was no hero. He was but mortalspawn, cursed to live a life he didn't want until that one day where his adversity and lack of skill caught up to his frail form and shattered what was left of his damaged conscious.

And then he was saved.

Before that accursed day could claim the life of yet another of the many quadrillions amongst sextillions of men and women of the community that thrived within the void, the reprehensible hand of absolute and certain demise found itself marked by an otherworldly fire emanating from the physical reflection of light and liberation itself. Now bathed and showered within the philanthropic glimmer of benevolence, the young hapless boy found himself granted a possession of such importance it held a significance equal to the name he so cherished; he had been given purpose, he had been given reason and meaning to exist. He had been freed from the somber chains that once sentenced his being to mean nothing to himself nor anybody else, he had been granted his right to access worth. He was no longer waste upon the abandoned sidewalk, he was more than the lone insect that wandered aimlessly for home, or rather a place to call home. His insignificant, senseless presence that was housed within the shadows of society and civilization was engulfed and embraced in a light so powerful that the melancholy bleakness that was his tears were incinerated and reduced to distant recollection, replaced by overflowing tears of hot-blooded confidence, fervent happiness and passionate feelings that could have been identified as some form of infinite measures of love.

Thus, the story began with the fiery transition of a single, individual soul corroded by ruinous thoughts of abandonment and eternal isolation into a sturdy, unyielding drill encased in an ethereal alloy constructed of unrelenting determination and steadfast mettle, decorated with a spiral formation branded by the magnificent profusion of insuppressible fire that was generated by his young spirit's own sense of worth, place and purpose in the eternal, ever-shifting cycles of the Universe and the realms that operate beyond it. Equipped with the esoteric tool that originated and was fulled from the deep pool of hope and dreams inside his head, the young boy blasted the very essence of his soul through monsters born of corruption and nightmare, fuelled by the baneful and endless pursuit greed, gluttony, excess and rage. These monsters that had been seduced by or created from the very material of anathema and detestation found themselves perishing to forcefully-settled dust at the opened hands of this child enigma whose presence blistered the darkness and enlightened the hopeless with antics of good will and benign favours. The callowness of malign beasts was the dirt, the perseverance of his soul was the drill that tunnelled through it.

A moderate vessel of balanced and necessary size was engaged upon its usual aerial strolls, maneuvering and travelling at certain angles and degrees in order to avoid potential collision with perhaps another vessel of similiar, smaller or of much greater size to itself as it was not a vessel of either minimum nor maximum size. It was constructed of peculiar, alien alloys that displayed a bright monochrome colouration that one would perhaps identify and associate with as "white", although if one was to observe closer they could have clearly observed that the vessel was not of pure white chroma and was instead between the border of light grey and genuine white. Across the ship's monochrome flesh of alloy were long, extensive strips of a bright, lightning shade of blue that had been applied upon the vessel's body through a process one could have compared to gaining a tattoo, although the method of application itself was much more advanced and was most probably performed by AI and mechanical interaction rather than baseline organic effort as there was no requirement for the latter in such prosperous times as this. One could have spent their time doing much more useful things concerning their person, as most tasks and manual jobs had been left to the programming of machines although there were still opportunities that allowed and often required organic assistance, either to perform the task at hand at full efficiency or make other organic beings that resided upon this harmonious domain of a megaconstruct. If one was to even engage a brief attempt at merely estimating the population that called this construct home, they would require a calculation device capable of registering, or even contemplating, zeroes that breached above the standard limit used within systems of education.

Finally, the public service vehicle stopped upon ceasing movement and effectively pausing alongside a wide, rectangular platform that acted as some form of entrance and exit path to both access and abandon the vehicle at necessary times. A single guard, a life-form that originated from this galactic region of the ever-expanding Gigaquadrant, stood upon the platform, equipped with some advanced and complicated form of rifle that appeared to be beyond standard military-grade classification and categorization. Whatever grade or class it was, it was beyond what the sole passenger onboard the service vessel could identify as he took a step onto the platform, allowing the cold metal it was constructed of to touch the sole and pads that hid beneath his foot or paw. The figure in question attracted a look of complete, undoubtable astonishment from the guard that had been assigned to this certain platform as he advanced from the vessel and descended onto the platform so he was in full view of the guard that was positioned there. As the guard looked over the figure's form and appearance, he saw that the enigmatic stranger before him wore some bizarre, but not entirely complex, hybrid of casual, occasional wear and advanced, beyond-military-grade armour that quite probably was fitted with some mechanism that provided automatic force-field protection or something similar in function. It was not bizarre in that it was strange but it had not been seen worn upon personnel of any species or authority that had been stationed here. The figure himself was of seemingly mammalian origin, for he possessed a delicate, thin layer of slight strands of blue fur that covered the vast majority of his humanoid body with a large, noticeable abundance of such growing upon his chest. Descending from his cranium were two elongated, lengthy protrusions that dangled freely around the sides of his hips and waist; ears of some kind, they appeared frail but soft.

The man shifted his head towards the stationed guard's direction in order to gain a glimpse of him, or rather the equipment and highly-sophisticated and advanced power armour he possessed upon his person in plane sight for all to see, probably as a way to identify his position and status here. The figure possessed an interesting set of eyes; both appeared normal and uninteresting if anything, no physical deformities, cybernetic enhancements or biological contortions concerning them aside from the almost unnoticeable trait that was his elegantly gleaming, vibrant irises that appeared to almost shine a vast array of bright chroma, mainly hints of blues, light purples, yellows and white. The stranger wore a smile across his calm and somehow comforting face, passing reassurance over the guard with such a simple and basic gesture that required no particular effort of the muscles within his face.

??? - Good afternoon, sir.

The guard tipped his head in a hesitant and shy nod of acknowledgement towards the stranger, his body jittering and visibly struggling to contain the feelings of excitement and frenzy that were overflowing and quickly reproducing inside himself. He attempted to open his mouth to say something, perhaps ask a question or further acknowledge the stranger through perhaps a gesture of greetings as the look worn upon the guard's face implied. Before he could barely form the first syllable of any word that came rushing through his mind, he found himself interrupted by an obviously far more eager and less reluctant pair of sentences that displayed content and optimism with a tone that indicated a sense of positivity and benevolence perhaps to make its overall approach to communication with organic life-forms, both native and alien to the construct, a lot more realistic and comforting, as if one was socializing with another organic being. The source of the interruption took the form of a Caretaker; ancient and archaic false-creatures that acted organically as if they were a genuine race, possessing an interconnected hivemind that allowed them to communicate and pass thoughts between one another at one's whim if they so desired, although in truth they were more of alloy and hardware than they were of realistic skin and functional organs. A race of cyborgs that found it necessary to constantly provide service, support and guidance towards those they encountered while performing the more primary task of repairing and consistently maintaining the technology once used by the so-called "Cold Ones" of Borealis legend and mythology. This pseudo-creature wore a smile upon its radial face, with the gesture being returned by the stranger who seemed to observe and analyze the Caretaker with an upwards and downards glance in that particular order.

Caretaker - ''Greetings, welcome to Hyperborea! Would you like assistance?'' ??? - ''Would you be able to direct me to the nearest food stand? I'm rather starved.'' Caretaker - ''The nearest convenience plaza is following the right corridor. Allow me to give you a map of the station.''

From the center of one of the Caretaker's automated limbs, which each possessed a set of thick alloy hooks that appeared to function as graspers of some kind and were capable of rotating within a vertical 360 circle, a minute, rectangular device of some sort was swiftly ejected and caught between the metal talons that were the Caretaker's effective "fingers". The device wasn't much; an almost flat sheet of multi-alloy material which possessed a projection generator at its center, allowing for full 2D/3D imagery to be displayed within such without any form of difficulty or error. The detail of the imagery generated by this appliance was perhaps more advanced and far more precise than those characterized by the standard idiot box or advanced abacus units that one would possess within the domestic home environment, probably located somewhere within the personal quarters or general social rooms located in such homes of the 21st century that dominated the surface of the small, backwater planet that some would affectionately call "Earth", although others took to calling such "Terra" and other, far more degrading names, identities and terms. The Caretaker placed the mechanism within the hand of the stranger standing before him, allowing him to take the device as he pleased if he so wished for it. The visitor took a firm hold of it so as not to drop it, although was careful to make sure it would not succumb to pressure in his gripped palm. Upon accepting the imagery projection gadget, the visitor's eyes darted up and down at the rather intricate and specific representation of the city's format and regional layout, processing information concerning public attractions, markets and places of service. Gaining what information he required from this advanced mapping system he held within his palm, he reached out his other arm and allowed it to caress the top of the Caretaker's synthetic cranium, which was camouflaged with a rather accurate representation of nigh-realistic flesh in both appearance and texture, in a neighbourly and civil manner as if to reward the creature for its significant assistance, not too dissimilar to rewarding a family pet. They were familiar to him, he could recollect them, their behaviour, their appearance, some aspect of the purpose they had given themselves.

??? - ''Much appreciated! I'll be sure to come to you or your buddies whenever I need help.''