Rituals, Regrets, and Really Dumb People

Chapter 14: Everyone's a Hero in Their Own Story, Part 1

Lilly and I stood in the infinite sea of the black void as it shimmered and pulsated with chromatic coloring every few seconds. It felt bizarre, it felt cold, and it felt familiar; it didn't feel like we really left at all. Ishmael and Typhous were here with us, meeting in the middle and standing in front of us. The ever-loveable Meredith had ducked down, clinging to one of the only two pieces visible on the platform: the console. The kid's chamber was the other visible piece.

"What do you mean you will save your people?" I asked Ishmael. "Explain yourself."

"Did you notice something funny when you were—looking around, Sanguine?" Ishmael asked me, "Why do you think those corpses were in vats?"

"I dunno, maybe 'cause you're one sick puppy. Why are you experimenting with risen corpses anyways? They're disposable assets, at best."

"Not these," he uttered, waving his right hand outwards and away from himself. "Typhous showed you many planets, didn't he? Ones we'd conquered?"

"Don't change the subject, Ishmael."

"Come on, humor me a little—again, he showed you many planets, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Did he ever show you our home? Our ships?"

"No."

"Do you think we rode out on the same ships forever, devolving, stagnating? If we exist, we must have had a place we settled in, correct?"

"Correct."

"I say we bash his head in," Lilly whispered to me, "and worry about this nerd-lore stuff later."

"Hold it," I told her. "We should hear this."

"You should," Ishmael said. "It's interesting, despite being called—ahem—'nerd-lore stuff.' Would you prefer a visual? It'd be much more interesting."

"Like a movie?" Lilly asked.

"Yeah, sort of like that."

Ishmael clapped his hands together and the shimmering colors began to settle. It was as if we were falling into a scene, a set for a play or movie. The greys and neon greens began to sharpen, the air as dull and as medicinal as the facility's. The more it formed, the more I felt I was in some bad sci-fi horror show; we were in the hall of some ship, grates under our feet and pipes filled with green plasma or gas lining the walls.

"Where are we?" I asked Ishmael, looking around at the empty hallway. The neon green glow grew in strength and dulled down in patterns, waning and waxing to add to the eeriness of the empty hall.

"My home," Ishmael said. "From my memories, at least. We're not really here. I am simply showing you the whole story. Of things I remember."

"What do you think you could show me that'd make me change my mind?"

He pointed to his left and began walking down the hall, to a slide door. Typhous followed him, smacking my staff against the ground all the way. That was a good way to annoy me.

"Guess we should see," I told Lilly.

"Yeah."

"What of Meredith?" Typhous asked Ishmael.

"She's safe there," he mumbled. "Let's go."

We followed behind and into the room, past the slide doors. Inside, we found ourselves in something of a bridge or control room, a multitude of seats in front of digitized screens, and a large window that showed the grand vastness of space. I was in awe of it, my stomach cramping slightly at the beauty. As despicable as the Ancients may have been, their grand ships of sleek, smooth metal riding through the infinite cosmos was something to behold.