Chapter One: Sludgy Ash and Bloody Battles
Once upon a time, there was a boy. He was like many other boys of the world: impulsive, ignorant, and strong. There was really nothing to differentiate him from anybody. The standard healthy baby boy features included two eyes and ears, a nose with two nostrils, a mouth, the standard genitalia, functioning organs, and attached, fully functioning limbs. He had all of those, so he wasn’t released after he slid out into the world. Any children the doctor saw as dysfunctional, flawed, or different in any way, were released at birth by sending them down a wooden chute into the marsh below. It kept the marsh creatures happy and the civilization running smoothly. It was kind of a win-win sort of thing… unless you happened to be a mother that had given birth to dysfunctional children thrice, in which case; you were released with the baby. To be spared the release at birth was the first challenge you ever faced- to survive it was commemorated every twelfth full moon. But think about it: living in a world where all of the breathing people were commemorated for birth, what did it matter?
Call it what you will- a cult, village, town, bunch of people who happened to settle together, extended family- this boy and some other people lived in a marsh. Not just any marsh- a really big fucking marsh. Ever since the Eruption, the planet was one made of sludgy ash, mud, things that could hurt you, and various plants. They were all ugly, and the choice few that weren’t ugly could probably kill you, by means of devouring, poisoning and devouring, strangling and devouring, slicing into pieces and devouring, and turning inside out and devouring. Needless to say, the main focus of this marsh was having enough sustenance to live, reproduce, reproduce more, try to find dry land, reproduce some more, and then die. Sex, adventure and food: sounds like heaven, right? You know, without all the deadly, toxic, and villainous things out there, I suppose it would be. But then it would only be worth the sex and food. Adventure would be worthless without danger. In stories, you don't hear much about the brave hero sitting down and being a quiet civilian with a moderate sex life and turning his taxes in promptly on time. That would make for a terrible story, except for the sex. Even moderate sex is interesting.
In some ways, the world hadn’t really changed. The obvious physical change was, duh: the land was covered in ash and the air was full of ash, and the water was mixed with -guess what substance -ash. People still fought over food, political matters, and other stupid things. Now, those fights were mixed in with fighting with that flying dragonfish over not eating your leg, or fighting against marshlung. Both of those fights are typically lost. One historical battle, long ago, was over dry land. More specifically, it was over dry space high up in the trees surrounding the sludge. There were over ten thousand casualties between the boy’s people and a neighboring people. The neighboring people won. In a way, however, the neighbors lost, because it appears that the trees have a nasty habit of covering their victims with a sticky sap that dissolves their skin and preserves the muscle, bone, and organs for later devouring. Suddenly, living in steel houseboats floating atop ten feet of sludge doesn’t seem so bad, now does it?
And now that you know your history, let us begin with the boy’s story.
Chapter Two: The Name of the Perfectly Average Boy
“My god, Lawahiz, he’s adequate! He’s not going to be released!” cried Adelhard, searching the boy for any imperfections. The boy was functioning perfectly; his heart beating at the standard amount of beats per minute. His tear ducts unleashed tears freely and without mucous. His limbs moved; his genitalia released waste as regular as clockwork, as did his bowels. He had a tongue, skin, all of his fingers and toes, and so far, no breathing problems. Soon the Doctor would reenter the room, and give him a final examination before deciding upon the little lad's fate.
