Immortal in Dominion

Chapter 1

"The streets of Carnivale were covered in mud. Or shit. It was definitely one of the two."

-Bean

Year: 2552

I walked through the slums of Carnivale, my eyes downcast. I looked only at the street in front of my feet. A sorry muddy lane with the occasional cobblestone peaking up from better days gone by. In the slums there wasn't much else to look at. Carnivale, of course, was the center of learning and light during those dark war torn times. A thriving and bustling city. Renowned for it's colleges of ingenuity. The Zeppelin fields to the north of town were a testament to that. The airships were created here and for the most part still manufactured here. The most dangerous jobs constructing the unnatural machines going to the people of the slums. The slums clung to the south side of town. There it seemed farthest from the light, the knowledge, and the learning.

Twilight settled over the city and the women of the street came out to ply their trade. They trolled for the drunks and wanderers on the streets as the hawkers and vendors of the daylight hours closed up shop and headed toward their hovels. That suited me fine. I hoped with the vendors closing the smell of spoiled apples and soggy meat pies would start to fade. The slum folk seemed to thrive on little else. I wasn't hungry. I was bored. Trudging along I stared now at the mud splatter across the tops of my faded boots. How the hell does this shit get everywhere?

Another day. I had a few coins in my pocket and kept an eye open for a suitably dank and cheap inn where I could drink away the night. I was bored. I felt mildly sick from the night before. Already tired, though I just recently woke up. A malaise of the body and spirit filled me. I felt dirty. My hair, short cropped as usual, still managed to be greasy. My clothing was old and starting to show signs of serious wear. I would need to replace them soon. But I didn't give that much thought right then.

In fact, I gave very little thought to very little. It was all beginning to seem meaningless. In the back of my mind I knew I found myself stuck in a maelstrom, a tight downward spiral I tried to ignore. The sack slung across my back weighed me down. All my possessions of the moment fit into one canvas bag. I had packed it in the moments before being flung out of the last inn. Something about money, pay, rent, whatever. It was fine. That inn hadn't been a nice place anyways. With the sun setting and the gamblers and carousers coming out I was hot on the hunt to find a "better" place.

The thought made me laugh. A sad sound that had become for me. There was nothing better. Even if I spent months making money and stayed at the nicest inn in the center of the old town rubbing shoulders with visiting lords. What would that bring me? A softer bed? A wine less sour? Hardly seemed worth the trouble when you could waste away in the slums with much less effort on my part.

The thought that most filled my head as I trudged the muddied streets of Carnivale was what inn had cheap enough drink that I could spend the whole night there. The important queries of the drunk and hopeless. I discovered the more I drank, the easier it was to sleep through the next day. In some twisted way the more time I spent in the oblivion of sleep or stupor the faster time seemed to pass for me. And at the time, that was important to me. Hating existence as I did the faster time went the quicker I thought I could get things over with. Time, living, was the unpleasant task. Come up with a way to star distracted, to work fast so the time and the task ended, one could move onto something else. Those were my thoughts on time, on life. Though ultimately, as an immortal, (did I mention that already?) I was not sure why it mattered if time went by fast or slow. There wasn't any, "next," task. A psychological thing I guess.