A Universe for Aizia

Phase 3: Aizia and Auden

Dying a noble death is impossible, just so we're clear. Even contemplating a noble death in a dangerous situation is impossible.

The Pig trembled, still staring at me in horror; he looked as confused and terrified as I felt. His hair was dyed electric blue and spiked up in the back. His eyes were surgically modified to resemble cat eyes and were as vibrantly blue as his hair. Although he stood a foot taller than me, he had to be about half my weight. He wore an off-white jumpsuit for sleeping that blended in with his skin tone; on the breast of his pajamas, the bright red insignia of the upper class glittered like blood: a big, fat H wrapped in shimmering snakes that writhed about through the technology of holograms.

He looked at me, and I looked at him. I don't think either of us knew exactly what to do with that second. We spent one moment, frozen in time for a century, standing in silence, letting the ticking of the bomb match up with our heartbeats, letting the near-silence pervade our souls. It was an eerie silence, the kind you would expect right at the transition between life and death; hell, maybe that was where we were at. I was ready to go, ready to die, ready to cease to exist; I wanted the freedom from emotion, no feelings, no pain. This is what I sought in death. I had little left to live for, in that singular moment, and the suspense was enough to rob me of what I had left.

Unfortunately (well, I guess it was fortunate in the long run) it was not my time to go. It might have been, but the Pig wouldn't let me die; rather, he wouldn't let himself die, and saving himself would involve saving me too.

He produced a small, freshly sharpened knife from his sleeve; no, it was a nail file, angled dangerously thin. Weapons of any kind were forbidden to everyone except security robots and the captain; it made for a better, safer, saner society according to the lawmakers, and the common-man ate up the adage instantly. Pigs usually did not go against the wishes of their elders.

Seems I had myself a crafty little rebel.

The Pig went to work; he crouched hurriedly beneath the main control panel and began to cut the emergency exit panel free; it was held in place by two thin ropes crossed diagonally, designed so that only someone with a knife (Captain Zymun) could release. Or, if the occasion should arise, an extremely sharp nail file. The hatch was free within thirty seconds. I watched the metal rectangle shrink in size, revealing an ever-consuming expanse of verdancy. I stood, and I watched, and I did not move, paralyzed with fear and confusion.

The Pig waited; he was counting silently, I could tell. He had the mental mindset of a soldier, calculating, focused, and efficient. If I was being honest with myself, he was far better suited for soldiering than I was, especially at that moment. The metal rectangle had disappeared completely into the ocean of green now, and that meant it was time to go. The Pig grabbed me roughly around the waist and propelled me through the open hatch. For the first time in the three years I had been on that Airship, my view was completely free of metal of any kind. I was headed for a land of beautiful, beautiful greenery and sparkling water, albeit poisonous. I had not realized how much I'd missed the surface world. But I was hurtling at a dangerous speed towards the ground, and I had no way to slow my descent. I closed my eyes and hoped the impact would kill me.

From above me, although I did not see, a pale, sickly, scrawny human being jumped fearlessly through the hole; he once again grabbed me harshly around the waist, single handedly, as we fell through the air. And from his pocket he produced a microfolded bed sheet. With a fluid flick of the wrist, the Pig popped it open to it's full size. He somehow managed to arch it above us, effectively creating a parachute of sorts. It did not slow us as much as he had hoped for, but it was enough to preserve both of our lives.

With a cringe-worthy thud, and a few cracks, we were more or less safe on the ground. The blistering sun was sinking below the horizon, and the fat old Airship provided us with some comforting shade. I was not dead, and I was thankful for it. In the cool of the twilight, and in the interest of gathering our strength, we slept and we reflected.