Tales from the Former Universe

1. Into the New World

Year 12165: New Beginnings

It was the last of the furniture; Royyega had checked nine times for Walbode already.

"Our household, have they not been all accounted?" Walbode checked.

"Indeed, for the ninth time, Grandpa Walbode," Royyega restated. "Clear, this space seen furbished."

Walbode confirmed all his furniture was in place and immediately paid for the services before they even reached their new home, an effort Royyega always knew he would have made for their sake.

Awaiting for the contact to pick them both up, Royyega awaited, listening to her very playlist suited for her spirit of elation of the becoming.

"Royyega, dear," Walbode approached close with warm arms on her back. "A new life, we will superannuate. But you shan't see this as an exhilaration of calamity," he thoroughly prompted. "Like blocks of codes, it would be: they can, they ought to be replaced, to sustain the life cycle."

Royyega immediately threw away the former emotion she was trying to invest herself in, returning to her stiff and anxious self.

"Blocks of codes is a concept long before you were born," Royyega contemplated. "Is that concept, the only one you pertain for everything?"

"The beginning, they served for everything. A relevant notion, it had been utilized in the core concept of things my great-grandfather had utilized with their machines," Walbode said. "Not to start, but to proceed we must," he clarified. "Just because something's broken... the end, it doesn't conclude."

"Except... broken, our apartment was not. Currently, we are moving possibly to a place where not one screen could be found," Royyega said.

"Wisdom, you will discover," Walbode enlightened.

"And stigma, I must be filled all day, every time I refuse the future—'your' future?"

"Royyega, please..." Walbode pleaded her perspective.

"Immediately, I just wish to slumber when we arrive," Royyega quit the talk, proceeding to invest for her elation.

"Very well," Walbode tolerated. "But, Royyega dear," he rubbed her comfort, "you cannot stick yourself in this world you still chose. One day, you must have closure, and strive for a new you," he said. "Can you promise me that?"

Even with all her efforts, she only said, "No... As simple as thou, Grandpa Walbode... no."

There was nothing more Walbode could have given to her. He already recognized that his irrelevant and repetitive advice and ways had not served Royyega's life very well. He could only wish for understanding from her, as their contact had arrived to pick them up from Platiton, Clarence, on the way to Tilden Vale, a very minor, lesser-known city-of-a-town in Seneca state, which was about 15 minutes off both State borders.

At the town square, was Arlaion in a determined search of every ale bottle that could be found around most of Tilden Vale. His search was more determined than most of the activities of the wrinkled people of the rocking chair, believing that what he's doing is a service to the town and his family nonetheless.

His last spot is always that breakfast diner after a busy morning.

"Ale bottles, you are recollecting again?" said the diner attendant.