Chapter Four: Sk8r

1,000,000 Years Later, Seven to Midnight


“Name the word for someone who hurts himself by hiding his pain very well.”

Sk8r thought for a moment, billions of terabytes of data were processed assimilated and discarded by his Patriarch program in the span of ten Picoseconds. “Ultracamouflagellant.” He replied confidently.

“Too slow. You should have gotten it in half the time.” M8zzo said. He sat across from Sk8r, arms crossed. His Exo-Sheathe, a portrait of silver and blue chrome, gleamed in the dim light of the data feeds that surrounded them.

“Give me a break. That was late 27th century archaic.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“Fine, my turn.” Sk8r paused for a moment. “Name the word for an act of extreme copulation that drives away evil spirits”

M8zzo’s deep brown eyes went blank as he accessed his own Patriarch program. Seconds passed and sweat beaded on his brow despite the climate-controlled air. His frantic search remained unrewarded. “If I find out you made this up…”

“Nope. Keep looking.” Sk8r grinned madly at his Brood-mate. He adjusted the epaulets of his Exo-Sheathe. An unnecessary action that was more an exaggerated show of impatience designed to shatter his companion’s resolve.

“Fine, I can’t find it.”

“Exorsex.” Sk8r said, triumphant. “Very early 21st century.”

“That’s too far back! I haven’t even gotten data feeds earlier than mid-24th.”

“Ha! Too bad, my Patriarch program can do trawl searches up to late 19th.” Sk8r sported a satisfied grin. “I win again. Face it M8, you really can’t beat me at Para-Lexigon.”

“Show off.” M8zzo stood up. “You and your obsession with antiquity. Past is past my friend. Look to the future.”

“The future is boring.” Sk8r replied, stretching as the finely tessellated structure of his silver and white Exo-Sheathe matched his every move. “In fact, I’m bored right now.”

“Now that is a very dangerous thought.” M8zzo frowned. “Time to get your mind on other activities. Exercise some active interest pronto.”

“Like what?”

“Want to go solar-skiing on Proxima Cantauri?”

“We did that ten cycles ago.”

“Hunt Ficto-glyphs on Noumen IV?”

“Booo-ring.”

“Alright. How about starting a new game.”

“Like what? We’ve played them all and then some.”

“Yeah, but I want to win.”

“Now that would be a novelty worth living for.” Sk8r laughed.

“Hardy har.” M8zzo smiled. “I’d ditch you if you weren’t such scintillating company.”

“Ah, but I am.”

“Want to go see if Mela9 is access friendly?”

“Um, no. She’s too young for my blood.”

“You’re joking.” M8zzo shook his head. “She’s only one Brood Iteration away.”

“Still.” Sk8r shrugged.

“Okay, how about we start a war with the Qysx? Genocide run on Hausperi?”

“Nah. Been there, done that.”

“Look, at least let’s go somewhere. Anywhere.” M8zzo said, exasperated at his friend’s reticence.

“I guess we could take the Reflexus out for a spin.”

“Now you’re talking.” M8zzo practically dragged Sk8r away from their private berth.

As members of the 8th Iteration, their living quarters were located on one of the thirteen outer rings of the Hive. The Hive was an artificial world, a mobile planet with a total area twice the size of Jupiter. It was a wondrous construct. Home of the Human Collective, as the children of Terra had come to be called in the impossibly distant future. Humanity had long abandoned the mother world to seek their destiny among the stars, crossing the vast gulf of the universe to reach distant galaxies unimagined by their forebears.

Sk8r and M8zzo took the transport node and traveled the thousands of miles toward the central hub of the Hive in silence.

Beneath them, the Maw struggled against the magnetic shackles that held it in perfect stasis. The captive Black Hole was the Hive’s heart and soul. It provided them with virtually limitless power, and allowed the Human Collective to operate with impunity for millennia. Until the universe itself was dust. How much did it speak about the condition of their society? Sk8r wondered. The very thing that empowered them was the one thing that threatened to consume them all.

Sometimes when he was alone with his thoughts, Sk8r could almost feel the invisible pull of the infinite gravity of the Maw. He wondered if sentience could exist within it, some alien mind they were not equipped to detect much less reason with. What kind of retribution would it demand if it were ever to gain freedom from its captors? The Black Hole gnawing at the heart of their civilization. Sk8r shuddered at the thought. The Maw gave them freedom. But at what cost?

As in most cases, we become slaves to the things we depend upon, Sk8r thought ruefully.

“I’d ask you what you’re thinking but it’s probably something I’d rather not know.” M8zzo shook Sk8r from his brooding and dragged him out to the crowded grandeur of the Central Concourse.

The Central Concourse was a vast vaulted plaza crafted out of pure crystal, each surface illuminated from within by hundreds of multi-colored lights. It was always bustling with activity. Other Broods of the Human Collective used it as the staging ground for various activities great and small. Anything to pass the time. It was also the area where various Broods mingled and made contact.

“Uh oh.” M8zzo said as they crossed the Concourse. “Don’t look now but I think I see two blips coming in.”

Sk8r saw Sp8 and L8to approaching and groaned. “More like two drips.” Just what we need, he thought.

“Sk8r, M8zzo. Fancy meeting you two here.” L8to smirked.

“What’s the matter Sk8r? Still pining for the archaic?” Sp8 said, his green eyes glinting with disdain. “Why don’t you have M8zzo bring you to the outer colonies and lose you in one of the barbarian worlds. At least they have running water”

“I hear they even read printed manuscripts.” L8to piped in, laughing.

Sk8r smiled. “At least I know how to read.”

L8to and Sp8 looked like they were ready to lunge at him when a voice spoke up from behind them.

“Such a rare gift in this day and age.” Ar4 said, his golden Exo-Sheathe surrounded by a cloud of tiny points of purple light.

“Salutations to you Elder.” M8zzo and Sk8r said in unison as they bowed.

“Salutations Elder.” L8to and Sp8 said, though they only bent their heads slightly.

“Salutations younglings.” Ar4 turned to Sk8r. “I myself have mastered only a few hundred thousand forms of the written pictogram. It’s nice to see that an interest in antiquities is still alive in the 8th Brood Iteration. Perhaps we can engage this topic at some point.”

“I would be honored to at your convenience, Elder.” Sk8r replied, barely concealing his elation at the honor.

Ar4 nodded and moved on.

Sk8r and M8zzo were still laughing when they reached the Probability Tunnel that led to the Reflexus hangar.

“Ha! We sure showed those two.” Sk8r said.

“You said it. That wiped the smug look from their faces.” M8zzo said as they entered the access hatch with his Brood-mate.

Within the Probability Tunnel their atoms were discorporated, reduced to randomness, and then instantly reassembled at their destination.

Suspended in a pocket of null-space to keep it in pristine condition, the Reflexus resembled a black ovoid sphere with two protrusions at the front where the Command Bridge was nestled. There were several thousands stored along the infinite dimensions of the null-space hangar and each craft was kept ready for use at a moment’s notice.

“I’ll drive.” Sk8r said as he jumped onto the Command Nexus. The Nexus sensed his presence and began to generate the interface field that would allow him to control the ship with his mind.

“Be my guest.” M8zzo double-checked the Reflexus systems with his Patriarch program.

They erupted back into realspace several hundred kilometers from the Hive. From that distance they watched as other ships emerged and returned to their mobile home. With a sudden burst of its Inertia Drives, the Reflexus took them outward in a spiral path towards the waiting stars and the Hive dwindled behind them until it disappeared altogether in the distance.

Sk8r began to sing. Something he knew M8zzo found disconcerting, being unable or unwilling to carry a tune himself. But it alleviated the tedium of their voyage and he smiled when he heard his Brood-mate humming softly beside him. M8zzo was his closest companion since their inception, united by their love for adventure and stories of past glories. But the passing centuries had been kinder to him and taken their toll on Sk8r. Unlike M8zzo and most of their other Brood-mates, Sk8r had been more prone to bouts of boredom and obsessing over the past. He was dissatisfied with the life they led, he dreamed of new adventures, new stories to tell.

Sk8r knew just how dangerous boredom and lack of purpose could be. Whole Brood Iterations had simply faded away from a plague of consensual disinterest. Ceasing to exist in an eyeblink. But what do you do with immortality when everything that can be done already has been? You become a has-been. And the sad road to anachronism was something he desperately wanted to avoid. At least for now.

Sk8r wanted nothing more than to be somebody. To leave his mark on the stars. He was frustrated by the lack of newness. The cold efficiency of the Human Collective left nothing new to discover, nothing but the predictable sameness of paradise.

They were wandering through a nearby nebula, crossing the gaseous cloud aimlessly, when it appeared.

The sphere was a kaleidoscopic storm of color only a few meters wide, but it moved with dazzling speed on a direct intercept course with the Reflexus.

“What’s that?” M8zzo pointed to the reading on their screen.

“Accessing anomaly.” Sk8r directed the Reflexus sensor systems to reach out with a barrage of analytical and imaging scans. After a few moments of cross-referencing there was still no match with any known vessel or phenomena.

Sk8r and M8zzo scanned the console for any further sign of activity. Then a warning klaxon sounded around them.

“What? What is it?”

“Second anomaly detected. Tracking.” Sk8r processed the information directly routed to his brain by the Command Nexus. “Initiating evasive pattern.”

They saw a roiling dark cloud, seething with electric fire, appear to the left of their position. It was totally impervious to all their scans and it was also headed straight for them.

“Very interesting.” For the first time in his immortal life, Sk8r felt the exhilarating rush of the unknown. His Patriarch program was running on overdrive. Still no match. No matter, he thought, we can outrun them.

For several minutes they played a game of cat and mouse. The Inertia Drives of the Reflexus engaged on maximum output. Just as they seemed to evade their pursuers, the anomalies would reappear, closer than ever.

“Release the probes.” Sk8r said. “We need to find out more about what we’re facing.”

“Affirmative.” M8zzo felt cold sweat trickling down his back. “Automata away.”

The Whirling Automata resembled spinning tops as they burst from the rear of the Reflexus. They split up and sped off to intercept their targets.

As soon as the first probe struck the ball of color, it stopped. The ball engulfed it and sped onward, leaving the probe behind, totally devoid of power.

The second probe barely reached its target before it was struck by a bolt of lightning and disintegrated instantly.

“I have several more tricks up my sleeve.” Sk8r’s face was a mask of concentration. “M8zzo, prepare to skip tempo. Realign scrambler and engage on my mark.”

“Affirmative.” M8zzo positioned himself behind Sk8r in case his assistance was needed.

The Reflexus responded, blinking out of existence for an instant before reappearing several light years away. A coruscating field of energy surrounded it, rendering it completely invisible and cloaking it from all forms of detection.

“I think we lost them.” M8zzo barely finished his statement when the Reflexus was filled with a brilliant red flash.

The Master of the Marquee stepped out of the light into the bridge.

Sk8r and M8zzo stared for a moment, dumbfounded.

“That is the most ridiculous Exo-Sheathe I’ve ever seen.” M8zzo said finally, staring at the strange man who appeared to have teleported into the ship.

“It’s not a Sheathe. Its 19th century archaic apparel.”

“What?”

“Clothes.” Sk8r said as the lone figure approached them.

“I am the Master of the Marquee.”

Sk8r accessed his Patriarch, cross-referencing the nomenclature he was given. “The Champion of Stories.”

“The very one.” The Master of the Marquee nodded. “I come to you with a proposition.”

“You’re a myth. A legend from old Terra.”

“That I am, and much more young Sk8r.” the Master of the Marquee raised his hands in greeting.

“You know me?”

“I know of you. I know what is eating at your soul and I have come to offer you an adventure. If you will join me”

“Sk8r I don’t like this. I think we should call an Elder.” M8zzo watched the Master of the Marquee warily. “At least link with the Hive.”

Before Sk8r could voice a reply, the Reflexus went dark. Emergency lighting systems bathed them in a pale orange glow.

Warning. Temporal anomaly detected. The Patriarch program warned Sk8r as time skidded to a halt within the ship. Everything was frozen in perfect stasis except for Sk8r and the Master of the Marquee. A cloud of shadows rose from the floor.

“But there is one other offer for you to consider, before accepting the one before you.” The Rumple Man stepped forward, his suit forming from wisps of shadow.

The Master of the Marquee glared at his foe. Unfortunately, he knew he would be unable to prevent the chain of events from progressing. There were rules he could not ignore.

“The dictates of propriety-“ The Rumple Man continued. “Allow me to present my counter offer.”

Sk8r stared, transfixed, as the Rumple Man approached the frozen form of M8zzo.

“It is novelty you wish to experience, is it not? I have a new experience waiting for you child.” The Rumple Man gestured with one pale glove. “Something you have never felt before.”

M8zzo gasped as time resumed its normal flow. He looked around, confused. “Sk8r what-“

The Rumple Man turned to him, one hand raised. He closed it from claw to fist.

M8zzo’s face turned purple and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. His Exo-Sheathe was enveloped by black light. His eyes bulged as he collapsed on the floor.

“M8zzo!” Sk8r screamed. “What did you do to him?”

“Its called death.” The Rumple Man smiled. And for the first time in a day filled with firsts, Sk8r knew fear.

“I don’t like you very much.” Sk8r was unaware of the tears streaming down his face as he accessed the Warrior program. Instantly, a cold incandescence enveloped him. Polarized barriers that were proof against every known weapon in history.

The Rumple Man stood his ground, unimpressed by the display.

Sk8r watched grimly as the Warrior program engaged on full auto. His Exo-Sheathe reconfigured. Hidden weaponry blossomed with a devastating barrage of energy. The deadly planes of force that streamed at the Rumple Man blotted out the interior of the Reflexus in a blinding display of lethal power.

For a few seconds the Exo-Sheathe activated ocular filters until the glare was low enough for Sk8r to see again. His blood ran cold. The Rumple Man was still standing, surrounded by the blistered and blackened portion of the bridge.

“You have no idea.” The Rumple Man laughed. “All your much vaunted advancement has changed nothing it seems.”

“Wh-what are you?”

“Such a brilliant star you are. Do you think you can outshine the void?” With another gesture the Rumple Man shattered the shell of the Reflexus. The sudden decompression pulled Sk8r out into space.

Sk8r tumbled into a spin before his Exo-Sheathe stabilized his flight. Gravitic fields slowed his movement until he regained control.

“I’ve given you what you wanted.” The Rumple Man stood before him, unaffected by the emptiness of space. “Take my hand and I will gift you with the infinite adventures of light and shade.”

“No, no I won’t!”

“Such insolence.” The Rumple Man faded from sight. “If I cannot have your servitude, I will savor your despair. Suffer then the price of your rejection. Return to the death that you cannot undo.”

Sk8r engaged his Exo-Sheathe and navigated his way back to the Reflexus. He watched the nano-mechanical systems of the hull repair itself as he entered through the external port.

The sight of M8zzo lying still and lifeless on the floor was too much for him, and he broke down. He held his companion close, running the Medic program over and over for a solution that would not come.

The Master of the Marquee approached the grieving boy and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“M8zzo, I’m sorry. How could this-“ Sk8r felt as if the Maw had swallowed his world whole. He turned to face the Master of the Marquee, eyes brimming with tears “It’s not fair.”

“There is a way.” The Master of the Marquee pulled him up. “Some endings are doorways to new beginnings.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wait.” The Master of the Marquee pulled a small green envelope from his pocket and tore it open. From the folds of the envelope a lambent spool of light appeared and hovered above them, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. The lambent light waxed ever more brightly until it filled the Reflexus with a warm glow.

“What is it?” Sk8r felt oddly at peace.

“A happy ending.” The Master of the Marquee said as he closed his eyes and smiled. He raised his arms as the spool curled in upon itself and became a ball. The ball of light whizzed and danced around him. For a moment nothing happened. Then he opened his eyes, staring directly at it. “Please?”

Sk8r held his breath. He was afraid to hope. He knew how cruel it could be.

“Sometimes hope is cruel, and sometimes it can be the midwife of miracles.” The Master of the Marquee lowered his arms, and the ball of light expanded, filling the world with a million effervescent lights.

Sk8r shook his head. His eyes were blinded by colors he had no name for. He felt light-headed and lost his balance, he leaned against the wall for support. When he regained his sight, he heard a familiar voice.

“Sk8r! What’s happening?” M8zzo sat up. “I feel strange. That blip in white was waving at me and- everything went black.”

Sk8r was speechless. He could barely contain his joy as he pulled his Brood-mate up and hugged him tight.

“Whoa! Did the universe go nova? What’s with the display Sk8?”

“Long story.” Sk8r said, as he held M8zzo at arm’s length and beamed at him.

“You’re weird. Seriously.” M8zzo shook his head.

“I know. Isn’t life grand?”

“Um, I hate to gloom your glow, but there’s still someone here with us.”

Sk8r turned to the Master of the Marquee. “I don’t know what else to say. Thank you.”

“You can join me, if that is your wish.”

“I do.”

“What? Sk8r you can’t be-“ M8zzo protested.

“Don’t worry M8,” Sk8r grinned, cutting him off. “If we- when we meet again, I’ll have even more words to beat you with at Para-Lexigon. Plus, think of the new stories, the new wonders I can share with you.”

M8zzo knew better than to try and stop him. He tried to say goodbye, but the words would not come.

Sk8r hugged M8zzo. The awkward show of emotion was still an unfamiliar one for both of them. “I- “

“No need to say it. I know.” M8zzo pulled back and grinned. “Don’t forget to remember me.”

Sk8r approached the Master of the Marquee. “I’m ready now.” He held out his hand and the Master of the Marquee tore out a ticket and placed it on his palm.

“I’ll have such a story for the Hive.” M8zzo watched as his friend began to blur like a mirage or dream that disappears just as you reach for it.

“The first new one?” Sk8r said, he raised one hand in farewell just before he disappeared.

“Probably not. Nothing is really new. Just different.” M8zzo stared at the empty spot where Sk8r stood. Then he gave the command for the Reflexus to take him home. He watched silently as the stars streamed past him in a curtain of light.

“But at least this proves that not all stories end in tears.” he smiled.

And the stars smiled back, snowdrop bright harbingers of spring.