Shades Of Forever

I leap from a jagged precipice, dashing across patches of treacherous scree threatening my landing, then continue my sprint upslope towards the green waypoint still hovering frustratingly overhead. Wiry trees huddle against the walls of the narrow gully, trading sunlight for shelter from the obvious water erosion gouging a path to gravity's whims. My limbs help stabilize me when I need to vault a particularly dangerous fold of landscape, but it's still slower going than Box and I anticipated.

Mountains make their own rules, Sky. At least, that's what my archives say.

"I could've told you that. The Memory Shrine is filled with records of Idiots challenging the mountains. They're fun to read on stormy nights, if you like scaring yourself."

Both of us fall silent as I approach another claustrophobic chimney leading higher; fractured slabs of uncertain stone bowing in on each other. The setting sun is visible through the downslope gap, a blazing half-eye of sullen crimson painting elongated shadows along the length of the cleft. I start pulling my way up the almost-vertical slope, hands, feet, and limbs finding firm purchase on the gritty rock. I'm just about to reach the top when Box flashes a warning.

Stay low. If the base is there, we might be in sensor range.

I wedge my limbs into opposite sides of the chimney, leaving my feet dangling over the lethal drop below, but my attention is on shrugging off Dirt's pack without dropping it. After some squirming, I get it around to my front, then open it up. The second item down is what I'm looking for, and I pull it free.

The next several seconds are spent juggling the pack, Dirt's stonecloak, and my own appendages, but I finally get the pack back in place and the cloak draped over my body.

"This should help, right?"

It will against visual scans, but you'll need to watch out for thermal. That cloak doesn't have the same type of insulation, and it will warm to your body temperature fairly quickly.

"Just warn me if we're in danger."

I finish ascending the chimney, creeping up and over the crumbling lip, trying to look in every direction at once. The expanse beyond is a small plateau, a relatively flat clearing that stretches towards another steep vertical rise in elevation. Scraggly bushes and thick grass cover the ground, and a thin waterfall pours down the distant mountainside, filling a broad pool that meanders towards one of the other gullies. The glowing green waypoint bobs sedately in the middle of the scene.

What there isn't any sign of, is Corporate Marauders.

I peer around some more, expecting a trap, but nothing continues to happen. A brief rustling heralds the appearance of a rabbit, brown fur blending with the bushes. Its nose twitches as it stares at me, then it hops back into the grass and disappears. The green waypoint glows one last time, and disappears as well.

You can relax, Sky. They're not here.

I slowly stand up, oddly disappointed. It's not that I wanted the fight, but mentally I had prepared myself, and now I don't know what to do. I put my hands on my hips.

"So why did we come here, then?"

Based on the limited scans my creator's ship managed during its crash, this seemed the most likely basecamp site. It is well hidden from ground-based forces, has access to fresh water, and is large enough to land an orbital shuttle. However, that may also be why they did not choose it. Anyone with access to the appropriate combat operations guidelines, like my creator, would also know that. There are other areas we can check.

Two more green waypoints pop up, in opposite directions from each other, but I ignore them for the moment. Instead, I turn around, gazing back down at the landscape below. The foothills stretch away for as far as I can see, an undulating swell of hardy vegetation and rock. A faint green smudge sits just at the border of perception, signalling the edge of our forest, everything painted in tones of orange shading to purple as the sun sinks beneath the horizon.

"At least it's a nice view."

I take a moment to appreciate the majesty of the sunset. I've never dared imagine being this high above the ground, and the distance back to the village seems immense. Did I really run all that way? The forest has always been the boundary of my life, but now I'm so far past its edges, and it seems so small. Up above, the clouds reflect the setting rays like a fiery carpet, one last brilliant splash of color before night settles in. I wonder what it's like up there.

Cold, and difficult to breathe. Let's keep going, Sky, we can still-

"That cloud isn't right," I cut Box off. "It doesn't fit there."

My eye muscles twitch, and then my vision blurs and zooms in on a patch of sky high above. It looks like any other, a puffy mass of sunset-dappled clouds, but the billowing bulges are just a bit too rounded, like rotten fruit ready to burst. Looking at it feels like there's too much stuff crammed into a space that shouldn't be able to hold it all, and then I realize it's moving.

...well spotted.

Air ripples and distorts and then a boxy shape suddenly appears in my magnified vision - a squat rectangle with a rounded nose and two stubby wings sweeping back to its rear. Plumes of blue flame flare from smaller shapes mounted where the wings meet the body, and as it banks into a sweeping turn, I stare at it in wonder.

It's flying.

"What is that, Box?"

Wutan-Weylan Mark Twelve Orbital Assault Shuttle, commonly known as the "Hellhound." They're running an incognito non-causal violation - energy intensive, but keeps you unnoticeable right up until the point someone - or something - notices. The trick is noticing it in the first place. How did... ahh, that's how. Your name.

It seems like Box is finally starting to understand. My earliest memory, foggy and distant, reaching a hand up towards dark velvet studded with shimmering jewels, trying to grab one. Countless days spent with my back pressed against the highest branch I could climb, eyes fixed on the gaps between the forest canopy. Unforgettable evenings on Watching Hill with no one else around, falling asleep to the slow-motion dance of flickering lights unfathomable distances away.

"Where's it going? How does it fly?"

Combination of two plasma torches for direct thrust and a miniaturized reality engine for the more irrational stuff. As for its destination, well, that should be obvious.

The two waypoints fade out, replaced by a set of orange brackets surrounding the 'shuttle,' but I'm seized with a compulsive urge to know more about this incredible thing soaring through the sky in complete defiance of gravity.

"Is someone controlling it? Could I control it?"

With enough training, yes, but you need to focus, Sky. Worry about learning how to fly the Hellhound after we take out the basecamp and the cruiser it came from.

I track the shuttle through every last movement, entirely entranced. The way it moves against gravity, it's like the violations in that it shouldn't exist, but unlike them, it doesn't hurt my head to think about. There's something about the swooping shape that feels right, as if casting off the shackles that keep us dirtbound is something anyone could do given enough time.

Yes, Sky, the Hellhound utilizes traditional principles of lift in addition to the reality engine. You could build one yourself with the proper tools... argh. No. Focus. It's about to touchdown.

The blue flames flare brighter, and then the shape disappears into a fold of one of the smaller peaks - Fishhook, judging by the curved crescent of its summit. I finally blink, and my vision returns to normal. A new waypoint appears over the smaller mountain further down the jagged range. Six thousand meters away.

We should-

I'm already sprinting down the chimney, limbs flickering like ghosts to keep me from dashing my brains out on a rock. It's like being in the center of a storm, my body buffeted this way and that as I race downwards, but I only have thoughts for one thing.

I want that shuttle.

I need to fly.

Okay, whoa, look, I appreciate the enthusiasm, Sky, but-

I increase my speed, letting gravity pull me towards the base of the mountain, dashing bare milliseconds before impact against boulders, bushes, bare earth. It feels like I'm flying, but after witnessing the Hellhound's effortless slices through the sky, all I can think is that I'm just falling without style.

Sky-

Frustrated, I launch myself into a massive jump off a steep ridge that took me too long to ascend earlier in the day. A planetary vista stretches out before me, delirious weightlessness pouring through my body. How do I keep this feeling going?

Sky!

At the apogee of my arc, I dash, aiming slightly upward, and when I reappear, the ground is an absolutely unsurvivable distance below but I don't care. Wind whips through my hair, the last fading rays of sunset glowing on my cheeks, and I'm crying because I'm smiling so hard.

I didn't know how badly I wanted this until I was doing it.

...rewriting core assumptions...

Gravity pulls me gradually towards the mountain slope below, and I scream frustration at my descent. Red flips to green in my peripheral vision, and I dash again, continuing my flight.

...rewriting core assumptions...

dash dash dash dash

No matter how hard I try, the ground grows closer beneath, wildflowers and hillcrests whizzing by in a blur of shadowy violets. My limbs and limbs trail behind me, captive passengers to my headlong rush. I wish they were wings.

...rewriting core assumptions...

dash dash

The immensity of impact looms before me. I reached out for the sun, but now it's night and even that blazing sphere eventually falls silent. No one can fly forever.

...rewriting core assumptions...

dash

Even still. Even still. I can squeeze one more breath out of this eternity. I can be this instant one last time. Reality seems to slow down around me.

Core assumptions reconfigured

Sky. Let me take control. Let me ground us.

The downslope of a hill approaches me at terminal velocity and I smile aimlessly. Sure. Why not. I got to touch the sky, at least for a little bit.

Hold on to your butts.

The last few seconds before I hit are the slowest/fastest moments of my life. I can see each individual blade of grass. I'm flashing across a blur of green and brown. I can hear the wind as it gently shivers each stalk. I'm deafened by the howling roar. I feel nothing. I can taste the breath of reality itself across every pore of my skin.

...never... thought... using... combat processing... no hostiles...

My arm flashes out, braced by a limb-

Current Life-

override: unnecessary

-that shatters as it punches us into a wrenching tumble-

Current Life-

override: UNNECESSARY

-while another limb shoots out, forcing me into a cartwheel spin-

Current Life-

OVERRIDE: UNNECESSARY

-and a kaleidoscope blur of everything happens all at once.

Current-

OVERRIDE-

Curr-

OVER-

C-

O-

I'm looking up at shimmering jewels draped across dark velvet. Hesitantly, I reach for one. The distant light fuzzes between bone-white segments, and I feel like it's within my grasp.

Only, it's not. It's just my hand, trying to catch the impossible. I let it fall into the tangled grass.

...some thanks would not go amiss.

I stare blankly at the stars overhead. That's right. I jumped off a mountain. People usually die from that.

"...oh. Thanks, Box."

More points of light appear, adding their individual spectrum to the milky band stretching across the darkness. We're all so small beneath that distant gaze.

...just keep flying, Sky. I'll be there to catch you.

"...oh. Okay."

I contemplate the stars some more.

"Box?"

Yes?

"Why is the waypoint only two thousand meters away?"