Shades Of Forever

I sit in uncomfortable silence next to Broom. Watching Violet break down feels... invasive, somehow. Like she's ripped open a wound, raw and ugly, and all we can do is watch her bleed. The dog cowers in her lap, ears drooping and tail still as Stove continues holding Violet's shoulders from the side. A smug feeling of satisfaction ripples through me.

naptime

My shadow loses some depth, Pete's hyper-vigilance coming to an end. I nudge Broom with my elbow.

"Pete went back to sleep," I whisper, not wanting to disturb the sobbing girl in the chair. "Do you think it's okay for me to leave? I don't think she's going to attack anyone while she's like this, and she looks like she needs space."

Before Broom can answer, Stove makes a shooing gesture with her free hand. I thought I had spoken low enough for only Broom to hear me, but apparently not.

"I think Stove is going to be busy for a while with this one," Broom whispers back. "Go find your next melty rock, Sky."

I slip quietly out of the room, leaving behind a still-weeping Violet. I'm glad that Stove was able to get through to her. She must have never had a Mind to help her growing up.

...I don't understand anything anymore. There's not an infinity out there where that should have worked, yet here we are.

"You couldn't imagine it because you're focused on combat, Box." I've been doing some thinking over the past couple days. "It's what you were made to be, but that isn't all there is." I step out of the Mind Clinic, taking a moment to let exhaustion work its way through me beneath the gently rustling leaves. Distant laughter and scraps of happy conversation float along the twilight breeze as the village winds down from its daily labors. "There's so much more."

...rewriting core assumptions...

I walk beneath the red glow of the leaves, wondering if I can just call it a day and go to sleep. The village square passes to my right, full of chattering people enjoying their dinners.

"Hey, Sky!"

Rifle runs up to me, Door hopping behind on his crutches.

"We're going up to Watchers Hill after we finish eating, want to come?"

"Who's the new outsider? Shovel Rancher said she tried to attack you!"

No, I can't sleep yet. There's still work to be done.

"Sorry you two, but I don't have time tonight. I have to check in on Great Grandpa and then go help Chief Outsider Engineer MacWillie. We have a pretty big project we're working on."

"Awww, that's no fun." Rifle mock pouts. "We haven't seen you in forever."

"We literally saw Sky yesterday," Door says amiably, then squawks when Rifle pokes him in the shoulder. "Hey! What was that for?"

"I wanted to see you and Sky tonight. Now I'm stuck with just you."

Rifle crosses her arms in front of her chest and Door's face falls. She holds the stern look another few seconds then laughs and pecks him on the cheek.

"I suppose you'll do. Come on, our food's getting cold." She drags a goofily grinning Door away by a crutch. "Make sure you visit tomorrow if you have time," she calls back to me, flashing a quick smile. I wave at their departing backs, wishing I could go with them. Instead, I make my way to the Memory Shrine.

Inside the main room it's almost stiflingly hot, small beads of moisture immediately prickling my forehead. Great Grandpa's chair is next to his desk, blankets covering his huddled form. I walk over, laying a hand on his shoulder. It feels brittle under my hand, like his bones are turning into withered wood.

"Great Grandpa? Is everything okay?"

He mumbles something I can't catch, eyes blearily opening. When he sees it's me, his wrinkled face breaks into a smile, but his cheeks are sunken and there are hollows beneath his eyes.

"...oh! Hello my dear. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in. I was resting. So cold and tired these days."

"Are you okay, Great Grandpa? Should I call Window Doctor?"

"No, it's fine. There's nothing Window can do for me. Old age comes for us all eventually." He yawns, sinking into his blankets. "Just, let me rest a bit longer. Then I'll find my way home."

"Don't be silly. I can take you."

"I said I'll be fine," he uncharacteristically snaps, then a remorseful light appears in his eyes. "Sorry. I'm sorry. My mind isn't working quite right in all this cold." He clutches the blankets tighter and his head lolls to the side, eyelids slipping shut. "Broom... will get me... later..." He falls back asleep and I gaze down at him, worry creeping along my thoughts. He looks so small in that chair, so different than the boisterous silver-haired man who raised me. I pat his shoulder gently.

"I love you Great Grandpa."

He doesn't respond, and I leave him next to the desk. I don't want to risk waking him by moving the chair.

Outside, I head back over to the village square, looking for any of the Builders. They'll probably know where MacWillie is putting the forge together, and I need to ask her what parts I should salvage from the downed starfly. After several blank shrugs, Crowbar Builder is able to tell me where they went - to the northern part of the village, past the tanning sheds. I thank him and ask him to let Broom know about Great Grandpa Axe, which he agrees to.

I jog out of the square and along the bridge separating the north side of the village from the south. Water burbles underneath as I cross, the gentle flow of the river soothing in the evening air. The tanning sheds are easy to locate, harder to ignore the smell of, and after passing them I hear the familiar voice of MacWillie through the trees.

"Clockwise, then retract and slide. It's a wonder you managed to take this apart without shifting your legs into another dimension!"

Huckens' mumbled response doesn't make it to my ears, and I finally see the two of them through the undergrowth, busy working on a squat machine at the base of a forest elder. Parts are laid out in neat rows around the wide trunk. Butterfly watches them with raised eyebrows from about ten meters away, leaning back against another tree with his hands in his pockets, and two other Builders are spaced out around the site to form a loose triangle. I slow my stride and fetch up next to MacWillie.

"How is everything going?"

"Ehh, well enough, even though the lad keeps trying to turn himself into a smear across twelve dimensions. You stick a knife in that lying little git after all?"

"No! Stove's still working with her. She's in a lot of pain."

"I don't understand your bleedin' heart," McWillie shakes her head, "but then again, you saved me and the lad so I suppose I'm not one to complain. You sure she's not going to be a liability?"

"I don't know," I reply honestly, "but I hope not. It sounds like she just wants somewhere to be safe from her family."

"Well, hopefully your Stove can figure out who that family is so we know how much heat is chasing her. As long as the git stays out of my head I'll leave her be. What are you planning on doing now?"

"I was going to go salvage the materials we need for the forge, but I don't know what to look for."

MacWillie attaches another piece, then slides it through the burgeoning framework in a twisting motion that definitely sees her hand occupying three places at once. Behind me, Butterfly sucks in a pained breath.

"Aye, and I already told you not to look at the interior parts, you daft blockhead," MacWillie calls out to him in a friendly tone, then shifts back to me. "I'll send your Box the datanode. We'll be another hour or two here."

The presence of something appears in my storm-wrapped room, but I ignore it. One day, but not today. Box can handle it. I look around at the watching Builders.

"Will Butterfly and Brush and Light be okay?"

"So long as they don't look too close while we're putting together the inner bits, they'll be fine. All the reality twisting in a molecular forge happens on the inside, and I'll rig a baffle to shield the tap on the tree."

"Okay. I'll be back later then."

"Safe hunting, young Sky."

I wave to Huckens, who gives me a long-suffering stare, then head back into the trees. It'll be faster to cut straight across the forest using my limbs rather than retrace my path through the village. I wait until the Builders are hopefully out of sight before accelerating to top speed, relishing the rush of wind on my cheeks as pale trunks blur past.

"Do you think there will be any anchors there, Box? You said they'd come back at some point, right?"

Silence answers me, which is strange. Box isn't usually this withdrawn when we're heading to a potential fight.

...rewriting core assumptions...

I guess Box is busy with something. More forest flashes past, and I try to ignore the muted excitement coming from the top of Watchers Hill as I skirt its lower edge. Once I get the incognito field working, there will be plenty of time to spend with Rifle and Door and everyone else up there.

The crashed starfly eventually comes into view, silent sentinels in the darkness stretching across a kilometer of churned up earth. I pause on the hill crest, waiting to see if Box has any insight.

...rewriting core assumptions...

Apparently not. I head down towards the ruined ship, senses alert. If something jumps out I'm sure Box will take care of it.

The next hour passes uneventfully, my time spent searching through various parts of the wreck. Box seems to be paying some attention, as the materials that MacWillie says we need are highlighted in a light yellow glow that makes them stand out against the rest of the scattered debris. I transfer chunks of metal, bags of powders, small vials of sloshing liquid, and a variety of other objects into my non-causal storage. I keep a wary eye out, but no violations appear, which I'm grateful for. I’ve had my fill of violence for today. Finally, my storage is full, and I retreat from the towering wreckage.

...core assumptions update resolved

"You there, Box?" I'm back in the forest, working my way towards the forge site.

I am, Sky. Apologies. I needed to resolve some areas within my internal processes to continue our integration.

"Anything I can help with? Do you want to talk about it?"

Not at the moment. When it is appropriate, we shall.

"Okay."

I slow down on my approach to the forge, not wanting to upset the three Builders with the sight of my limbs. "It's Sky," I announce, weaving through the trees in a steady trot. "I'm back."

Light Builder, a lanky man several years older than me waves as I move past, and I return the greeting, but both our attention is on the structure MacWillie and Huckens are working on. It's grown from its previous squat shape, now rising nearly halfway up the height of the tree, a tapering spire with grooved channels on each side that splits the top into four prongs. Its base is a waist-high square of grayish metal that melds seamlessly into the midnight blue of the spire. Almost all the parts that were laid out are gone, and Huckens has his diagnostic tablet out, MacWille shoulder-deep in an opening on the spire. A rounded covering of metal connects the spire to the side of the tree, flaring out to form a broad collar nearly a meter tall around the trunk.

"Try it again, lad," MacWillie's muffled voice sounds, and Huckens taps his tablet. Light strobes through a variety of shades from the opening, then settles into a soothing purplish pink. The same glow appears in the grooves running up the spire, somehow contained to the channels in a slowly throbbing pulse, more like a liquid than illumination. "Aye, that's it then." MacWillie backs out of the opening and flips a panel closed, brushing her hands off with a satisfied smile on her face. "Nothing left but to test it." She notices me and her smile widens. "And here's young Sky, right on time. How was your trip?"

I start unloading items from my non-causal storage, the Builders goggling at the objects appearing from thin air. "Pretty quiet. I found a bit of everything, I think."

"Aye, that's a good haul," MacWillie agrees, running her eyes over the various containers. "Let's see... we'll need the geometric coolant, two rods of anti-space alloy, a dash of plasma dust..." Her voice trails off as she snatches ingredient after ingredient, throwing them into a hatch that opened out of nowhere in the gray metal base.

"What's all that for?"

"Testing," MacWillie replies, eyes gleaming. She smacks a segment of the spire and the hatch closes. Higher up, the roiling magenta light pulses sharply, then shifts into a golden hue like the early afternoon rays of the sun on a cloudless day. The entrancing yellow brightens, then winks out, replaced by a pale emerald, indistinguishable from the tops of the forest leaves. The hatch opens, small wisps of vapor curling out, and MacWillie reaches in.

Her hand emerges with a large, wide bottle that narrows abruptly near its top, tan glass translucent enough to see the darker liquid within. She twists a covering off and sniffs it reverently. Her eyes immediately start watering and she coughs.

"Are you okay, MacWillie?"

She ignores me, raising the bottle to her lips and taking a swig. More moisture appears at the corner of her eyes as she swallows, then she lowers the jug, leans back, and roars up at the forest canopy.

"Aye, now that's the stuff! Lad, get your scrawny little hide over here! You too, young Sky!"

I join Huckens next to her, and she hands the jug to him.

"What is that, MacWillie?" I ask while Huckens takes a small sip. He immediately starts coughing.

"Bumsnirphle's Finest, and our forge is well and truly in business! Take a taste, you've more than earned it!" As I hesitantly accept the heavy brown glass container from Huckens, MacWillie sprawls out into a seated position, leaning back with her hands braced against the earth, an expression of pure bliss spreading across her face. I sniff the top of the bottle and almost pass out, the stinging vapor bee-lining straight through my nose in a direct assault on my brain. I start coughing, matching Huckens.

"Is this... safe?"

"Not in the slightest! Go on, drink up, it'll put hair where you don't want it!"

Based on the molecules involved, it probably won't kill you.

Nervously, I tilt the lip of the jug against my lips and take a small sip. My mouth immediately explodes into fiery knives that feel like they're dissolving my teeth, sharpening to acid as the liquid etches its way down my throat, and I throw the bottle at her involuntarily, spraying some of the liquid into the air as I try to exhale.

"Nnnnghfffpthhh what the fuck MacWillie that is horrible!"

She catches the jug in a beefy hand, laughing the entire time, then takes another heavy swallow.

"You don't drink Bumsnirphle's for the taste, young Sky! Isn't that so, lad?"

Huckens shakes his head morosely, accepting the bottle as she passes it back to him. He takes another gulp, grimacing, then hands it out to me. I stare at him in horror.

"Why would I drink that again?"

"Because..." MacWillie prompts him, and Huckens looks up, as if he's trying to remember something.

"Because... if you're drinking Bumsnirphle's, it means you're still alive among the engines," his voice gaining in confidence as he goes, "and there's plenty of your mates who can't no more. You drink it for them, and for those who'll drink it after you."

This time I take the bottle.

"...drink it for them, huh?"

I fill my mouth until my cheeks bulge, ignoring the piercing sting, then force it all down. A meteor crashes into my stomach, tears springing from my eyes, and I think of a small tree in the clearing. I let the tears come, handing the jug to MacWillie once more. She stares at me, suddenly somber.

"Aye. Now you've got the hang of things, young Sky. We'll make a space dog of you yet." She tilts the jug, pouring a share into the dirt below, liquid settling between branching tree roots. "For those who've gone before, and those who'll come after."

Huckens and I quietly echo her.