Calan - The Immortality Paradox

Chapter Twelve: The Reaper of Sylfaenydd, Part Two

It was a strange experience; feeling simultaneously familiar and remote. Malachi was inside his own body, and yet his consciousness felt incompatible, due to the inherent knowledge of breaking the synchronicity of the Universe. In the light of a waxing moon, he wandered the geometric pathways of Prifddinas, carrying his collapsed Oslona L-R sniper rifle in a compartment pressed into his exoskeleton. Forbes had economised on his earnings, turning his gaze on efficient equipment. The exoskeleton was one of his best purchases; designed to survive any climate, with shock absorption, light refractive material and flexibility beyond his modest imagination. In terms of comfort, it was no different to wearing a dressing gown. Able to adapt to its wearer, the smart material offered a counteractive temperature to maintain his optimum environment preferences. In addition, he was the proud owner of a respiratory enhancer; the envy of all bounty hunters, and one augmentation away from becoming the apogee assassin.

'Are you checking yourself out, Mal?' Pudovkin's voice rattled with amusement inside his head.

'Fuck you!' he replied.

'Just get this simulation moving, I was staring at that mountain for hours outside the ship.'

The molecular tracker provided by the Shadow Employer led him directly into the heart of the city. There was no convenient location to park the Yacht; Forbes left the rest of the crew in a clearing north of the capital under the shadow of a sheer cliff edge. After clambering through a valley of cerulean bracken, he quickly found himself surrounded by the accustomed architecture of the Calan - structures rising like trees from the ground, spreading their branches into perplexing coils of silicate. Some appeared to defy physics, overhanging like tree decorations suspended thousands of feet in the air. One prominent edifice dominated the rest, entrenched at the nucleus of Prifddinas like a quiescent beast. In the background there were other towering facades, but nothing remotely as intimidating. A percipient inner voice told him to give the place a wide berth.

'It's like Eurocity on eco day! Like someone vomited their herbivorous diet all over the city.'

Olson's transcript took a more positive tone. There's beauty and wonder in their design. They understand the Universe like no one else.

'Now, now, Ols. Don't go telling me you're a practising Calanite.'

Acknowledgement of truth is not equal to admiration.

Among the Penumbra agents, the Calan were quietly avoided. A species unknown is a species best left alone. Nevertheless, Forbes needn't have worried about being apprehended. Barely minutes into his infiltration he quickly learnt how widespread Humanity's presence had been on Sylfaenydd. There were all types, creeds and classes here, and most likely a contingent of each Chapter, thronging at the edge of the Calanian estate like ever-tenacious insects. Some were here to exploit the opportunity of gaining the insight of a wiser race; others were more obviously clinging to the last vestiges of their self-worth. With the added bonus of being heavily camouflaged, Forbes blended into the crowds as easily as a knife through naked skin. He always claimed to be an apolitical soul, bouncing between civilisations without reason or consequence, but Forbes knew a city on the brink of mayhem, and Prifddinas was beyond saving. He almost sniggered at the self-destructive way in which the Calan had allowed such a poisonous Human integration. Within a hundred years, he predicted the place would be overrun, and the Gods would be nothing more than snapped twigs.

The tracker audibly tugged at him once more, leading him deeper into the city towards the suggestion of a more understated enclave of buildings, almost as if the Calan had turned lazy and commercial. These housed the cliques of Humanity hidden from view and clearly happy with their seclusion. Forbes could perceive the vivaciousness on their faces through his exohood. Relaxed and content to be in a bubble of safety far away from the conflicts of man. The bounty hunter was almost jealous of their genuine contentment. Hiding in the garden of the Gods.