Chapter Three

 

 

Marco stomped on the brake pedal with his right foot, the rear tire of his Suzuki kicked out on the loose gravel. He dropped a few gears, skillfully releasing the clutch lever before opening the throttle to drift around the hairpin corner. On the bends no guardrail would stop him from taking a leap down the side of Great Mountain. And the more he climbed, the narrower the road became as it cut through a steep rock face in snaking its way up.

Gianluca was lagging behind—not wearing a crash helmet, he kept a distance to protect himself from the small rocks fired out by the knob pattern on the back tire of Marco’s DRZ 400.

Mind and body fully focused on the act of balance and strength that was to ride a powerful off-road motorcycle, Marco’s ears were full of the raw orchestra he directed. To him that experience was as accurate as it could be, and the view truly stunning—well beneath him the emerald lush expanse basked in the yellowing sun, the windows of the colossal skyscraper flashing bright close to the horizon. If his life wasn’t in danger, Marco would have never tackled such an uneven and dangerous track with recklessness—though, given the circumstances, it was a fun and safe way for him to vent, and it was working out.

After over thirty minutes of zigzagging from the parking lot below the tree line, the dirt road finally flattened out halfway to the peak, leading them around to its shaded side. When they came back into view the snow-capped mountains were gilded by the low light.

Marco’s front tire was but a few yards away from a deadly drop. As he put the sun behind, chilling things up a bit in his shirt, he made it to a secluded V-shaped valley. The dirt track went above it, leading to a suspended bridge that crossed over the stream high above. Born of Great Mountain, it took a dive into the chasm creating a spectacular waterfall. He looked to the other side of the valley, on which trees grew out of the almost vertical face, down to where the waters escaped the pristine valley by forming rapids between the pools.

After the bridge, on the flat road atop the other side of the vale, Gianluca pulled a wheelie to overtake Marco—then he locked his back tire to slide the KTM into the following hairpin corner.

The downward track became was much rougher. Marco kept to a low gear and used engine braking to counter that. The experience was intense, and he feared what would happen if he took a tumble down the cleft—smiling to himself as he thought he’d probably respawn. Wishing he had a jacket on, he ventured into the vale with Gianluca in the lead. They both had to stick below ten to contend with frighteningly off camber corners, their tires easily losing traction on the loose surface.

They made it to a dead end cut out of the mountainside. Coming to a stop, Marco hit the kill switch before putting the Suzuki on its kickstand. The trees to the other side of the valley were about three hundred yards away as the crow flies. To the right, the waterfall was midway from its splash, with the peak outlined by the soft tones of sunset. Admiring the view, Marco went closer to the trees on the outer edge—he was on a good swing after the bike ride, but it really was the fact that Gianluca was still with him that made it enjoyable, and his light-heartedness was infectious.

While turning away from the view, he noticed a trail taking further down through the dense woods, and possibly all the way to where the boulders were honed by the stream.

“This is where I wait, Marco,” said Gianluca with a friendly smile. He did not mention to Marco that he had to go alone!

“Gianlu, why?”

“Because he wants to see you alone?”

Marco shook his head. “Why didn’t you say it earlier?”

Going back to his hot motorcycle, Gianluca pulled out a satchel from the pouch on his poncho—it contained all he needed to get himself stoned.

“No need,” said him, lighting a fat spliff with a few puffs. He took a deep drag and—in exhaling—eyed the opposite side of the valley and the bridge atop the waterfall, Great Mountain showing in between the divide.

Marco was bemused by Gianluca’s behavior, but it didn’t surprise him how easily the Pranksters brainwashed him into thinking that virtual land was fun.

“Want a toke?” asked Gianluca, offering the virtual spliff.

“You know I don’t smoke,” replied Marco without irony.

Gianluca raised his brow. He rested more of his weight against the frame of the bike, taking a puff. “Can’t harm you,” said him. “Listen, sorry I didn’t mention it.”

“Same as when you ran me over,” replied Marco, catching the weed in his nose.

Gianluca couldn’t contain laughter at Marco’s face and coughed his lungs as he did it taking a drag.

“It’s not funny,” said Marco.

“Sure is!” exclaimed Gianluca, still recovering from laughter and coughing.

However accepting of different cultures, Marco was an irritated tool of the all-mighty aliens he dealt with so far. Though benevolent, the Pranksters were impertinent—he thought they had given him enough proof of their underlying arrogance. Just before he left for the woods, he made a mental note not to rule out they could be involved with the Zigs when confronting the Elder.

“See you later, alligator!” shouted Gianluca, as he saw Marco leave without saying another word.

 

He navigated through the trees following a mossy path, the chirping of birds and the muffled sound of the waterfall accompanying that of his steps. He brushed his arms to warm himself up, skipping from stone to stone and hopping down slick steps. He trusted his instincts in almost no light—night was coming and he had no idea how far to go, nor how long he would be staying with the Elder.

But his feet were steady and he let them do the job of carrying him, his mind and heart busier with the simple fact he was deprived of many things. Kalexis embodied his deepest worry when he was barely encouraged by faint light protruding into the thick. He walked out into an opening and was quite stunned to see a beautiful three-story house close by. It had a terraced garden and was set right into the side of the valley with a roof of stone slabs that seemed to be its continuation. Its walls were also made out of stone, with small windows reminiscent of those of medieval times. That house was angled so that from inside one could admire the waterfall as well as the peak surmounting it.

The sound of the near stream was constant but not strong enough to be bothersome—on the other side of the deep valley the grove left no room for meadows. On his side was but that garden, with most of the roses and the other flowers soon to blossom, each and every blade of grass or leaf covered in dew.

Marco felt observed—though magnificent, that place was shady and uninviting. He went to knock the heavy knob on the wooden entrance, and he sighed, thinking he already had his share of bad dealings with rich snobs hiding in castles to still deem them trustworthy. As he waited, Marco tapped the ground with his foot, kept looking behind his shoulder—someone could be appearing anytime.

Fighting off the tension, he reminded himself that he had to be thankful for the intervention of the Pranksters and should for a moment try and forgive their antics. Despite the impositions, he wished that by meeting the Elder light would be shed on the whereabouts of Kalexis, and he would get a clearer picture of the future planned out for him—an intergalactic refugee in the hands of unorthodox rescuers.

He was spooked by the unsealing of the portal, flabbergasted by finding that the individual inside—holding a lantern—was nothing like Satkhela but the biblical exact of an elder. Below his hairy brow, deep blue eyes sharp and wise, his mane as white and long as his beard. The old man was groomed but stood hunched, wearing robes fitting for a magician, as the warm light drew deep shadows inside the wrinkles etched on his face.

Marco stepped back from the door as he fixed that ancient face that was frozen, patient and kind.

“Welcome,” said the Elder and only his dry lips moved. “Please, enter.”

Stepping aside, the Elder disappeared like a ghost behind the portal he opened. Marco wasn’t too happy to enter but wasn’t fond of the alternative, either. His eyes—which were already adapted to the low light of the evening—had to rely exclusively on the Elder’s lantern once the mansion was closed. He silently followed him down a windowless hallway. Between the doors on each side, the flickering light lapped the armors on display, shined off mirrors, and was just enough for Marco to glimpse at the silhouettes on the oil paintings.

The Elder didn’t utter another word or stopped, taking Marco to a stone stairwell leading up to the first floor. Darkness was defeated only when he opened the last door after going the opposite way on the main corridor of the second floor. He stepped into a hall that was as wide as the house, at its front those small windows with a view.

“Why don’t you use electricity?” inquired Marco.

The Elder moved through that well decorated space—oil lamps cast their soft light on the wooden furniture, on the shelves filled with dusty tomes fixed against the inner wall, and on the desk and recliners. A stone chimney was burning lively, taking some of the humidity away. A twenty-four arm brass chandelier holding wax candles was lit just above an all-wood dining table furnished with padded chairs engraved by masterful artisans. There was a chessboard on one of the coffee tables next to the windows, busts and heads on stands gathering dust in dark corners. The Elder went around the dining table and toward the right end of the room—the floor creaked as he made it to one of the armchairs against a window.

Marco crossed the threshold then waited for an answer to his circumstantial question.

 

The Elder sat carefully after placing the lantern on the table between the two armchairs—only once comfortable did he face Marco. “I expected you would ask me why I look human,” he said it in a calm and relaxed tone of voice, putting both hands on his lap.

Marco walked a few steps inside to reach the long dining table with three chairs on each side. “I am aware this is a virtual reality,” he replied, nearing the chair at the head of the table that was closest to the Elder. A Persian carpet stretched the six yards in between them. “So my guess is that you can take any shape here. I know enough to know you can’t possibly be human.”

There was a pause during which the Elder nodded imperceptibly. “I’m impressed. Please tell me now—who am I?”

“Funny,” said Marco, smiling for the first time since he stepped inside. “Someone asked me a similar question a long time ago.”

“Yes, and that someone isn’t dead,” revealed the Elder, slowly. “You were insistent with Satkhela, and I don’t blame you for it. I realize finding yourself here is a cause of concern, but what she didn’t tell you is that this is our world, our home, not just a temporary place of stay.”

Marco took a moment to ponder the implications of the Elder’s statement. “Are you saying your people exist in cryostasis?”

“Correct,” exclaimed the Elder with a positive, kindly tone. “Now I have to explain to you why this place is deserted. My people live in a different virtual world, from which I came to be close to all those that will soon arrive here.”

“Why can’t I visit your people—why did you have to come to us instead?” asked Marco.

“The ways of my people vary greatly from yours. Our society has developed over the course of a billion of your years, evolving ways of perceiving and experiencing reality that are incompatible with your lesser brain—no pun intended.”

“Oh, I see,” commented Marco, cunningly. “You don’t want to... blow my mind.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” chuckled the Elder, like the skinny Father Christmas he was. “I’m glad you didn’t leave your sense of humor out the door!” And he slapped his palm on his thigh.

“Is it better to laugh or to cry about it?” asked Marco, rhetorically. “Always look on the bright side, I say, every cloud has a silver lining—I’d eat a rainbow for breakfast everyday if I could.”

The Elder had to squeeze his abdomen. He wiped tears from his eyes with the wide sleeve of his gray robe, and let Marco continue.

“You must be really proud of that a sweet spot of yours.”

“So much we’re known throughout the universe as the Pranksters, Marco, yes! I have to admit you far surpassed my expectations.”

“What do you mean? You thought I’d be less assertive or articulated? I was studying to be a doctor, and I know how to be a judge of character.”

“Too bad you couldn’t do anything about it after you assessed the Zigs,” inferred the Elder.

“I expected you to be a fan of my show, just like the rest of you people,” said Marco and—hiding his hand from the Elder—he clenched his fist in rage. “Or maybe you were only surveying?”

“That’s the word! You know all about the implications of that, don’t you?”

“Why should you care about who does what in the universe anymore? I think I understand how you live, and I won’t deny you’re right when you say that I’m not physically prepared to experience it. You have shown me the door to a completely new level of existence, and now you are talking to me about the mundane.”

“Riding that dirt bike changed your mind about the validity of our existence?” asked the Elder, and Marco could swear he winked. “But on the contrary, our whole existence is based on the continuation of life in the universe you are now calling mundane. We primarily exist as life forms in cryostatis, as you have ingeniously assumed, so we do have an interest in keeping a certain amount of order in the universe to preserve our race.”

“Aren’t you too old and too advanced to be worried by inferior races affecting the universe? As far as I know, the Zigs never managed to get their hands on you, so if you can stay away from them, they can’t possibly affect you.”

“That is just part of the logic behind it, Marco. Those inferior races you refer to are capable of inadvertently ending our existence if we do not implement some form of control.”

“Your norms and regulations,” Marco enquired. “So this is how the universe is ruled.”

“Indeed. You sound so at ease—jokes aside, can I ask you why? I thought you had a problem with us only acting in the direction of our own interest.”

“I’m not happy about how my planet—” he sighed— “was wiped out like that.”

“But you have never given up, you’ve always kept going. Even your friend Gianluca—he went completely suicidal joining the rescue mission, and yet he is still looking up to life.”

Marco suddenly darkened after keeping his eyes pointed on the Elder. When that was said he couldn’t avoid lowering them. “You gave us a choice you shouldn’t have.”

“And let others do the dirty work? Wasn’t that what crossed your mind when you hesitated? Don’t say it—I’ll say it for you. You were under prepared.”

“You’re pulling my strings. That wasn’t in this sandbox, Gianluca could have died.”

“Yes, there was a considerable chance. But now we have taken that away. By the way, have you noticed how you don’t feel the need to eat or drink?”

Marco was shocked to realize the Elder was right! Since he woke up in the hotel it had been just like in a dream, one where thirst or hunger weren’t a cause of concern. But right after the Elder mentioned it, he wanted to satisfy those basic needs. It affected him to be manipulated. “You have tricked me,” he said with great deal of concern, “pretending to be a god. What are you trying to prove?”

Marco’s eyes widened as he recalled the incident with Gianluca in the underground parking lot, and that strange urge to fly away from room Z2-0459. He had to ask for explanations before he inquired about Kalexis.

“And we finally come to those pressing questions,” said the Elder from the comfort of his armchair.

“Isn’t it like shooting fish in a barrel, old man?” asked Marco as his stomach growled. The Elder smiled from the half-light as he let him continue. “Since you can read my mind, then spare me from reminding you of what I wish to ask you.”

“Apologies Marco—being the ultimate master of a realm affects me. I was only trying to show you its potential.”

“Don’t the Zigs or other races possess a similar technology? Why didn’t everybody choose to live like you do?”

“I thought you were more curious to know why I asked Gianluca to run you over, or what exactly was happening to you in the hotel room. It’s important that I explain it for you, but please now just try and imagine something to eat or drink and it will appear on the table before you.”

Marco shook his head and smiled as he thought about the good coffee he used to drink at the bar in the hamlet near his cottage. And just as if he commanded a genie, a glass of sparkling water and a shot porcelain cup of espresso materialized next to him. Just as Captain Janeway would, Marco picked up his cup of replicated coffee and smelled it, to be instantly brought back to long gone bars—he didn’t drink it though, putting it down.

“I hope that you reconsider and decide to stay with us for some time longer. After your first encounter with unreality the program had to write brand-new pathways in your brain, and the immediate effect strictly depended on your psychological reaction. You resisted the drive to open the window and fly, which would have given you way more flexibility during your stay. The human mind cannot withstand the dynamics of social interaction that we developed, but it still can pull interesting stunts in a place like this—if accepting. We didn’t know whether you would jump off the balcony or not, but in case you didn’t, Gianluca was waiting there to force your mind into accepting the fundamental difference between reality and this world. I won’t go into the details, but it had to be done.”

Marco drank some fresh water from the thick glass. He sat with his legs out parallel to the head of the table. “Wouldn’t that affect my brain afterwards?”

“No more than a lucid dream would,” replied the Elder, “but I must say that even our brains are permanently affected by living in what we prefer to call hyper-reality. Once you become a part of the landscape, once you truly know what being an everything that blends in with other everythings is like, you cannot revert to a normal existence.”

“But you are existing here and now as an individual, and this place is very much real to me,” inquired Marco, shrewdly.

“That’s because only a fraction of my self is here. I exist simultaneously as many beings, Marco.”

“You should get yourself checked by a good doctor, then.”

The Elder laughed.

“I have catered enough for you,” added Marco, “now, before I start smashing the furniture, tell me where Kalexis is.”

“Yes-yes we’ll get to that, Marco. I still have some more of your questions to answer, don’t I?”

“You sure do.”

“And yes, others do possess a similar technology. The Eilons and Zigs have multiple ways of interfacing with a virtual reality, but none were ever pushed as far as we did by matching cryostatic technology with very fine neural inducers. Some implants are required to establish the link with the mainframe, but we did not perform the invasive surgery on you—that’s why your connection with me is only marginal. A few other scientists had our idea, and unknowing of our accomplishments managed to create simpler versions of this. Nothing as refined or granting a long-lasting experience as what you have the privilege to witness for yourself, though.”

“What do you mean? That they don’t get to live as long in them?”

“Normally the brain is put under great amounts of stress when dealing with a virtual landscape, but we found ways to circumvent that. Usually a signal is received by the brain to decode it through the access ways of the senses, so creating the perception of a false reality. But what we do instead is to emulate the senses outside of the brain through a computer that can write information directly to its memory—that way the brain isn’t stressed by decoding the bulk of sensory data, allowing us to stay in VR for centuries before having to be scrubbed and placed in deep sleep to recover. Some of us have been living for close to half a billion years thanks to this method.”

“Scrubbing?” asked Marco, a little frightened.

“It’s a process by which memory is freed in the brain for it to function for longer than it is meant to. Permanent, million-year long memory is possible by downloading neurological data into gel drives that mimic your old neuron connections. But to be experienced memory still has to physically settle in your brain. Close to the point of saturation, we format neurons and induce the formation of new connections, while still having access to all previous ones by being linked to stored gel drives—I have to admit, such an existence is only possible inside this kind of virtual reality.”

Marco was dumbfounded. “You burn the neuron connections on disc and then clear the brain like a hard drive?”

“Interesting twentieth-century metaphor, Marco,” affirmed the Elder. “No other space civilization has yet managed it, though you inferior humans can understand and experience it. Fascinating—there is such great potential in all sapients, even early ones.”

“Has anyone ever told you how arrogant you are?”

“I was trying to be appreciative,” replied the Elder, peacefully.

“You are not going to brain scrub me, are you?”

“Only if you decide to stay for longer than your brain can handle, and in that case you may want to make use of implants and micro-drives if you desire to detach yourself from me one day.”

“And carry around my extra memory, like Xono? No, thanks.”

“It’s safe for you to stay here, Marco. You don’t have to face the unknowns of death and the limits of all common mortal existences. You could choose to make use of long life drugs like the Zigs do, but you still would have to lose your memories from time to time because you can’t possibly carry them all with you. You would see yourself fade away, lost to a stream of never-ending pleasures while only knowing your same limited self over and over again. Here you can evolve and expand because we can store all of your memories, forever.”

“But none of those memories will be real, nor am I interested in living forever. Are you telling me that you never solved the big mystery, that you have acted the way you did as a civilization to outrun something you never managed to defeat?”

In the dark hall the fire crackled, and Marco turned on his chair to face it as he waited for a reply—it came seconds later.

“Death. There comes a point when we too have to die, but we believe ourselves to be the universe in action, finding ways to solve from within problems that couldn’t be solved from without.”

“Gods—powerful alien civilizations itch to wear their robes, after being tainted by the supreme power of the scepters they craft,” argued Marco.

“The natural result of the phenomenon of life, where its intelligence is manifested in the will that sustains the integrity of the fundamental laws,” replied the Elder, stroking his beard. “We don’t have a final answer to the destiny of consciousness, but we’ve dealt with it when designing the platform that currently supports our existence. Consciousness craves prolongation and expansion and can only rely on faith when facing extinction. The reason behind why we all bear mortality has to do with the structure and the limits of the universe itself. You can observe that rather than existing in a fixed state, the universe perfects—its ultimate, most sophisticated creation is a sapient mind that wonders how to make due for the inevitable bugs of biological complexity, illnesses first and then ways of counteracting death are researched and found.”

“Are you sure that death and illnesses are bugs, defects in the eye of the universe?”

“If you decide to subject the universe, you fall into that group of romantics we call religious. To a rational mind, illness and death are obstacles to the improvement of life.”

“You believe yourself to be the universe in action, finding solutions to its limits and problems from within, and you call me religious for thinking that there may be reasons to death that go beyond your egocentric desire to be immortal.”

“It did serve the process of making us who we are today. Once a race evolves to the point of developing anti-aging drugs it can go one step further, and we certainly did.”

“I won’t claim to have the ultimate answer,” said Marco, “but I think I will always be here, and we are all the same since our consciousness origins from and within the same framework. I am not criticizing you for remedying the extinction of consciousness, but I argue the validity of an existence that attempts to protract itself for eternity. The very fact the universe is entropic shows how ultimately everything is destined to conclusion, even your dream.”

“You may be right there, Marco,” replied the Elder, who then took a deep breath. “There is nothing we can possibly do to stop the consumption of matter as the universe stretches further apart, but we have gone so far to discover other universes and it may be possible to migrate to one while still having the resources to do so.”

“So you are still facing the same problem of people that only get to live sixty or seventy years, if they’re lucky. And you haven’t given up on faith, either, yet you live like gods in worlds of your creation. If I was here for a reason, it was to establish how long I wanted to stay, and I have to say that my wish is to stay here for the least possible amount of time. I want to speak to Kalexis about what you told me and tell her my decision.”

“It would be advantageous for you to wait until we get all the other aliens, and humans, in here so you can get to know them.”

“Will it be possible to leave the planet I will wake up on?” asked Marco.

“Of course,” replied the Elder. “We have been talking about the vast multiverse, but the galaxy we are taking you to is quite peaceful, and if you desire to travel, you will always have a place to go back to.”

“That’s nice,” said Marco, reassured. “I still have to see Kalexis before I leave.”

“We won’t give you another chance, Marco. I hope you won’t regret it.”

Marco lifted the espresso cup from the table thinking it would be cold by then, but it was still hot. “I wouldn’t mind getting to be three hundred years old, but not in here. I beg you not to ask that of me again,” he said, then drank it in one go.

“Now it is you, Marco, who fears the unknown. All of the aliens recovered are waking up in their rooms at the Hotel Coliseum.”

“So you are reading my mind again! How dare you control the physical sensations I experience and know what goes on in my head—how are you achieving it?”

“It’s because I am the landscape you see, this very house, the matter of which you believe to be composed of. I have decided to dedicate some of my time to be your host and make you feel at home during your training and transitional period.”

“What will those people do now that they are waking up?”

“I expect some to find wings when they leap from the hotel, unlike yourself. With practice, it may be possible for you to take any shape and try it out, but it will be harder since you first resisted the urge.”

“You don’t seem the kind of person who digs extreme sports.”

“On the contrary, I’ve always been a fan. I have to catch up with my readings, though, and this is my preferred form to do it.”

The Elder rubbed his coarse hands together before putting his palms firmly on the hand rests of his armchair to pull an apparently aching body up from it.

Marco didn’t inquire why he was in such poor physical condition.

“I removed pain intentionally, wanting you to be aware you can live in absence of it, if you wish to. But just as you were saying, Marco, that everything ultimately craves extinction... I may add it also craves weakness. That may be why—from time to time—I like to remind myself that I am quite old.”

The Elder smiled as he stood before the armchair.

Marco finished the glass of sparkling water, on the all-wood dining table by a magically refilled espresso cup.

“You should follow me upstairs to the transfer room,” added the Elder, grabbing the oil lamp. “Not that I fear you would run away, but you don’t want to be outside right now. I am changing geological features to accommodate the newly arrived. To be precise, I am generating one hundred and twenty-one different towns that will accommodate each race—I believe I succeeded at making them reflect their customs, but I will only know if I did it right once people get to live in them.”

“Why not wake them up at the towns rather than at the hotel?”

“The hotel has two purposes. One is to brief them, the other is to give them a chance to spread their wings.” The Elder, who had stopped in his tracks to reply, went past Marco and to the open hallway.

Following him out he noticed how the wood burning in the fireplace was—very conveniently—exactly the same as when he entered.

The Elder went down the hallway and to the stone stairwell to get to the third floor of the mansion. He pulled back the metal bar sealing the heavy door of the attic.

There was a strange contraption in the center, with four columns that protruded from the carpeted floor to support the sloped ceiling with its skylights. A strange aquamarine light ruled in there, projected by eerie floating candles. There was plenty of room around the device, but little else in there. Unimpressed, Marco entered to lean against one of the square rock columns.

The Elder neared a control panel by the contraption where he punched in some of the buttons. That thing reminded Marco of a cheap time machine prop from a B-movie, consisting of three interconnecting brass arches meeting on top of a round pedestal layered in silver. “Is this really necessary?” he asked, folding the Elder by laugher. Marco didn’t smile but the old man really seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Yes, yes!” The Elder held the control panel tight not to roll on the ground. “Or would you have preferred that I snapped my fingers?”

Seeming to anticipate the moment, the Elder regained some form of composure. “Just step on the platform and I will reunite you with Kalexis.”

“Again, not new to me,” said Marco, lifting his back away from the column. He moved in, and close to the Elder who had the machine all ready. “You will be watching us, just like the Zigs did.”

The Elder looked right into Marco’s dark eyes. “No I won’t—I understand you have doubts and with time I will try to give you more reasons to trust me. Now, do you have any particular place where you would like to... be with her?”

“Where is she right now?”

“She is waiting to be transferred to your desired location.”

“Listen—I want a direct answer to that question, chap.”

“Very well. She is with her kind, in a land that resembles her home planet. It took longer to insert you into this simulation than it took her, and that’s why she has been here for two days. When she discussed the situation with me, she wanted to take a look at the list of Zig prisoners, and selected a few important ones she wanted to see immediately. Together with them, she decided it is safe to be here and is very eager to see you again.”

“Why did I take more time?”

“Depends on an individual’s neurophysiology, that’s all.”

“How will I talk to her?” asked Marco, worried.

“You won’t need a pad in here.”

“Can I really meet her anywhere I wish?” asked Marco, now curious to try it out.

“Yes, it could even be somewhere in France during the seventeenth century.”

It was Marco to laugh this time. “I wouldn’t really know, really, anywhere nice will do I guess.”

“All right, then, Marco! Step on the platform while I make the necessary arrangements,” said the Elder, randomly punching unmarked buttons on the control panel.

He stood under the brass arches surrounded by floating aquamarine candles. “If you are changing the world outside, where the heck did Gianluca go?”

“Here we go, all set. Oh, Gianluca is watching it happen from high above.”

Before he could reply, Marco saw his own body disappear, and then his vision went dark.

 

It was in no way discomforting to find himself wearing a swimming costume—during transfer, the Elder tanned his skin and touched his muscles up. The hot sensation of fine grains of sands beneath his callous soles was pleasurable. Close by, the crystal clear waters of a flat sea slowly broke, creating a thin layer of foam that was washed away as it receded. A warm wet breeze blew out of the forest of palms, its trunks and leaves casting long afternoon shadows.

Standing near the shore the sand was bright, so Marco walked up to the shade shielding his eyes from the sun. He wished he had a pair of sunglasses and found to be wearing Ray-Bans. No longer struggling thanks to the quality lenses, he distinguished a distant figure on the beach—it was Kalexis!

Some of her scales gleamed in the full light, her gilded wings and the sandy color of her skin blending in with that of the beach she was walking on. She raised her horned head in spotting him.

It was then that they ran toward each other and Marco’s feet burned. He couldn’t take it any longer, and had to make it across the beach to set foot in the refreshing waters of the tired sea. He couldn’t resist moving in it as he kept his eyes glued on Kalexis.

She entered the waters after galloping to them, and came swimming clumsily his way while staying where she could touch the bottom.

Marco head-dived in the warm sea—wetting his hair was just like he remembered it to be, his mouth and eyes tasting the salt. He made it very near to Kalexis with splashing strokes.

She stopped swimming where only her head made it out. Once the surface became still he could see her wings and graceful body as if through a distorting glass.

He had to keep swimming on the spot—she looked joyful so he decided to go underwater to grab a hold of her neck and give her a friendly hug. He realized he lost his sunglasses only when a scuba mask replaced them—he breast stroked his way toward her. Colorful fish swam around her legs, the feathers on her wings darkened to the point of being exactly the same light brown tone of the bare sea floor. Her strong forelegs, ending in a five-fingered hand whose topmost part was protected by scales of varying size, were squeezed into the sand—her larger hinds were armed with clawed talons, and she still wore all of her battle scars, with the interlocking plates on her back scratched and dented just like he remembered them. Kalexis allowed her wings to be limp in the water, just like her tail.

Marco was just about to reach her neck when she lowered her head and brought it underwater. She twisted and turned it, opening her maw—he tried to get back to the surface when she delivered a bite.

There was no pain as he gasped, expecting water to go into his lungs but no such thing happened—he was back on the beach and wearing sunglasses again, his costume and hair perfectly dry. His right hand was holding an ice-cold cocktail. The highball glass against his palm was so real that for a few moments he was very confused. He could only watch Kalexis swim to shore, shake her wings free of thousands of droplets after releasing herself from the grip of the ocean with her powerful stride. Marco watched her roll over the hot sands. He was amazed by her amusement—yet she still had to cast a look his way since she landed on the beach. Did she bite him for the same reason Gianluca ran him over with the truck? Marco didn’t find the answer inside the slice of orange wedged on his cocktail.

When she stood back on all fours, all of the sand that was lodged in her wings, plastered over her skin, and hiding in her crevices was magically removed. Marco wanted to think she made that decision just like he did for his sunglasses. She neared him with her head up high, and stopped only when Marco chugged half of his tequila sunrise and emptied the rest on the beach.

He cringed from taking in that amount of alcohol—the effect was much stronger than he anticipated.

Kalexis giggled.

“Why did you have to bite me?” asked Marco, who then wiped his mouth clean with his hand while throwing the glass away.

Her eyes widened, and her smile stretched. “So it is true that I can understand you. I just wanted to see if you were fast enough to dodge it. Apparently not.”

“I wanted to hug you, and you just killed me.”

“It didn’t hurt, did it?” asked she, walking a circle around him. “It’s the perfect place where to master the art of combat.”

“You don’t need much practice to kill me, Kalexis,” said him, showing his empty hands.

“You shouldn’t spare trying to slay me,” stated Kalexis, and Marco blushed because of the way she said it. “I want to stay here to perfect our skills.”

Marco was shattered to hear that, a blow only relieved by how upbeat Kalexis was. She laid her belly down in the sands, crossing her forelimbs. He walked to her and sat close, but not too close.

“It’s going to take us a long time to get to the new galaxy,” she said. “The Elder showed me evidence, and explained how we can’t rule out a recapture. If we want to protect our people, here we have a chance to prepare.”

“Despite all the evidence this could still be an elaborate way to fool us into thinking we are finally safe, among friends, and with our privacy back.”

“I don’t think so,” argued Kalexis.

“Maybe we are safe... but I’m not fond of hiding in a virtual reality.”

“It doesn’t surprise me they kept it a secret,” she said.

“Listen,” then said Marco, feeling he had more important things to discuss. “I could never really tell you before, but all I did, I did for you. If I made it so far, it’s only because I love you.”

Kalexis opened her mouth slightly as she looked at him first and then away, onto the fine sands near her. She then gazed far above the near palms and to the barely visible peaks of mountains. “I remember your brave choice... even though it was our enemy to put us back together, I still want you and owe you twice.”

“If you trust the Pranksters and their elder, I’m with you,” said Marco.

“We can’t forget the enemies we are saved from, nor the debts we must repay. That’s why it is imperative that we prepare in the event of a recapture. I spent time in the past few days learning about the experimental planet, how the Zigs planned to hold our people hostage and kill them if we failed their challenges.”

“For how long should we stay, exactly?”

Kalexis stood up. “Two years should do. Let’s move to the shade, it’s too hot here.”