Of Mind and Matter

Of Mind or Matter, Part One

"Do you find me insane yet?" whispered Marth. He talked silently to Bismo, the cramped cyborg that reached only half of his height, but Marth was unusually tall for a human man.

Bismo reacted in a surprised manner to Marth's question and mumbled in response, afraid of offending his master's guest.

"Yes, you do," Marth chuckled to himself, the light in his room non-existent for Bismo to see the sad look on his face after. Bismo was somewhat afraid of Marth even with his frequent visits. There was something that pulled Marth from the world in which he visited.

"I must grab the doctor," Bismo squeaked toward Marth, but Marth grabbed Bismo with great energy despite his sleepless night.

"You will do no such thing!" yelled Marth in his hushed tones, fighting for some chance of discretion. Any opportunity of respect, even in exclusive relationships, was more valuable than any health you could measure to Marth. He would not let any word escape the little robot's lips, no matter if he had to keep the little man close in sight at all times.

Impatient, Bismo sat in the corner, somewhat nervous, while Marth dressed quietly for the approaching day. His torn muscles shined purple through the minimal light, and his ribs were covered in mysterious scars, layering one on top of the other, one beating the other in a contest of ugliness.

It was nothing to Marth. Simply a testament to his work as an old soldier, mentoring younger ones through easy battles, simply there to catch their fall from combat that no one could have won. It was a simple and rewarding job, but Marth grew weary, grew tired.

Slowly the room rotated, the covered glass corner slowly sliding to the opposite corner, opening itself to the beautiful view of the mountainside where the room resided. Marth recognized the misty Alps, each lingering giant standing higher than the next, each cliff sharpening its jagged edges. The view was exactly that. The black stones were all that there was.

There was no vegetation, no other residences besides the camouflaged glass boxes used to watch primitive nomads who evolved naturally on the planet without any outside influence. Besides that, there was the place in which Marth stayed. The boxy house was located near the peak of a mountain, high enough that the native weather system seeped deep into the chasms below the house, mystifying the terrain below, leaving an ambiguous distance between the house and the bottom.

The glass was thick; compact and silent as it moved. The light refracted off the dark marble walls, giving a soft glow into Marth's black bedroom. Marth could see it better than the night before, the whole room covered in dark glass, including the platform positioned directly in the middle of the room, hovering above the floor, holding a mass of fabric. Marth had slept there the night before.

Marth hated the place. He hated the marble, the bed, the low strip of lights lining the crease of the ceiling.
Marth stood and walked toward the open landscape. The floor was warm, surprisingly, as was the air. It was a warm day, but as soon as Marth touched the glass that overlooked the chasm and mountains, he shuddered, reminded of the cold that awaited him outside.

The large house resembling a box wasn't Marth's number one choice for a place of residence, yet he never minded when he was in the company of his good friend, Oridese Spector, the Universe's most mysterious man. It was interesting to watch crowds go wild for the boy, not because of his mind, intellect, or even his profession, but simply because of his perfect smile and that sparkle in his eye, which was found charming by every species, no matter what or who. Oridese didn't mind the fame; it got him where he wanted to go in life, and it let him be who he wanted to be. Every luxury of life was given freely to him, and in return, he made an effort to please and notably to serve. Only when his temper was about him, however.