A World Away

chapter 1

The dark lingered, stretching through a moonlit night, marbles and pebbles floating in the comforting abyss, still and unmoving. Amongst this nothing, a single blue dot sang like a turquoise siren in a vast, uninhabited ocean. Adam stood below it, his glimmering blue eyes snapped towards this beacon, as he wandered through his own waking dreams, detached from the orange prison around him. For a moment, he felt as though his shackles had been removed, he imagined the shattering of great chains, as his body lifted, and he floated towards this single point, he imagined freedom, and all that it could bring with it. He thought with his wayward heart, of the things he could do, the places he could see, and the stories he could both hear of and tell, if only that dot could just move to within his grasp. His eyes seemed to possess an eerie glow, as the deep ocean in his eyes reflected the light of the moons, and they shimmered in all of the colours of the sea, with angelic kindness. He, like the sky, which lay just out of reach, was perfectly still, it was almost as though his metabolism slowed to a sudden halt, his heart paused, his lungs sank, and his eyelids failed to glide over his incandescent gaze. Time, for Adam at least, had stopped, and he wished that he could stare, like a reclusive statue, for time immemorial.

He relapsed. He felt his vessel ripped violently back, pulled into the red world, as his restrains gripped him once more. His heart sank, as he eventually had to reconnect with reality, and his dreams would remain dreams, for now. Around him he could feel the warm, artificial air which clung to him. Adam looked out across the dust hills and black sky, past the moons and into the blue hole poked into the black canvas. He knew this dot well, not that he had ever been there, nor did he want to, a planet of murderers and cowards he thought.

Adam wandered off of the balcony and into the wide-open hall, the white marble floor covered in what looked like a thin layer of ice, reflecting the white pinpricks of the lights on the ceiling. His footsteps were quiet as he walked barefoot between the columns towards the stairs which coiled down like a stream flowing through a tree trunk, adams turquoise eyes flickered between the matt pale walls, adorned with paintings and artefacts, none of which were his own, and the floor, watching himself place one foot in front of another like clockwork. There was an odd surrealism to his world, the completely silent house, the mirror sheen of the floor, the artefacts, the cold Martian breeze emanating through open windows. He felt like a ghost haunting the man who killed him, as he wondered if he died in his sleep last night, or maybe when he fell asleep in an armchair a few hours ago.

He was in the living room now, a wide-open space with a table which was too big for five people, not that five were ever there, chairs too far apart, a fireplace which roared and was the only place in the house where adam could rest without fear. The walls were covered in pictures like the hall, great paintings which depicted his family, their jobs, who they are and what they do. He didn't look at them now since he'd seen them all before. he shuffled into the kitchen which was similarly large, an island in the middle with cutting boards which needed to be washed, a sink filled with knives to be rinsed, tea towels strewn about the counters like dunes of sand. He didn't mind the mess, the discord kept him calm sometimes, although it stressed him at other times. He used his gaunt tanned hand to open a cupboard a little below head height, revealing several mugs covered in colour and imagery, he stood for a few moments in contemplation, not really looking at anything in particular, just looking. He reached in with his arm and pulled out a dark blue mug with writing on it, his hands gently shook as he placed it down on the counter, the shuddering of his fingertips made it appear as though he was shivering. He summoned from the fridge a bottle of milk and placed it next to the mug, once again stopping to simply stare at it, letting his arms droop down like ragdoll arms. On his left wrist he wore a watch, as was required of the population, its large round face sporting no lights or displays, sleeping upon his wrist like a pet. The insides of his arms had a thin layer of white bandaging with the edges sealed with tape, its surface was soft, and pale compared to the hardened nature of adams toned skin, cuts and marks dotting its surface. Minutes rolled by like stones before adams gears worked again, pouring milk into the mug almost to the top. Dores usually chastised him for using so much, not real coffee, she'd say.

Adams watch began to buzz, a small rush of blood went up to adams' head as he registered the call. He walked over to the island and unravelled his watch onto the table, allowing it to shoot lasers a few inches above it, forming the face of a young woman, static, in her early 20's. below it, a name was affectionately written. Sister.

"Adam? How's your day going so far?" she asked him while he continued with his drink.

"Yeah its been okay thanks, slow day without the militia needing me so I've just been watching the house." He responded as he placed the mug in a microwave and set it on.

"That's good, I take it none of those chimps have buggered your precious weapons?" she giggled through the microphone as he turned around and laughed at her still projection.

"No. although I'll have to go in tomorrow to fix up the orbital guns, given the tensions and all."

"Yeah, mum and dad have been trying to deal with that here, but I'm guessing we'll be here for a little while." Adam simply grunted in response.

"Have you taken your medicine?" she questioned him sternly.

"You don't have to ask me every day."

"It makes me feel better."

"It doesn't make me though."

"Just tell me that you have." There was a moments silence between them.

"I did, this morning."

"Good, just making sure."

"I know." He replied.

"Anything else worth noting?" she asked.

"Don't think so." Adam replied. His eyes glazed over the hologram as the light ding of the microwave phased him, causing him to shudder.

"Okay, make sure you call me tomorrow night, ill be catching a shuttle and will be arriving between ten and three."

"Will do."

"Alright, I'll speak to you soon."

"Good night."

"Good night Adam."

The call disconnected as the spoon clattered against the rim of the mug, the light metallic clang echoed throughout the house and the halls, ringing constantly. The sound pulsated through adams' blood like a pathogen, sifting through his muscles and organs until his head began to sway and ache from the sound. It made him uncomfortable to listen to it. He tried to avoid hitting the mug as he poured the sugar in with his free hand, coffee from the machine pouring down like a tap. He lightly placed the spoon in the sink to soak, as he lied to himself, saying he would wash it later. He carried his lukewarm coffee into the living room and placed the ceramic mug against the glass table on a glass coaster. As he lay back he read the inscription.

"welcome to the gun-show!" it humourously stated. It was a gift from Dores several years ago, so he made sure to keep it clean and pristine.

The door knocked three times, wooden emanations radiating through the walls.