‘Elysium.’
It dripped from the tongues of people in the Frontier, the way El Dorado and the Fountain of Youth had misted over the lips of countless conquistadors and explorers in ages before. It was a name D had heard with little consideration, because it had meant little to him. No jobs pointed that way. All implications suggested it may very well be a mirage, a hope, in the desperate minds of desperate people.
East of the Capital, far, far East, he had come to learn it was not false – at least, not completely.
He had come to learn it was spoken of with both malice and reverence.
Finally a job was leading him that way: a rebellious daughter, set on becoming a merchant on the Frontier, had been missing for months, and her family believed it was Elysium she had been lost in, because that was where she planned to stop for supplies, where she heard women were as equal as men, and could find support, and rare goods. The parents refused to go there themselves.
Outside of being dubbed a paradise, the crystalline walls of Elysium may as well have held a sign above it, announcing to others to give up all hope, for none ever seemed to leave. Was it by choice? That, D did not know, and that, D was determined to find out as he made his way upon his cyborg horse towards Elysium, now that he had directions and a decent description of the town so he knew what to be on the look for.
Of course, there was still distance to travel.
Towns to stop in during the day to take a moment of rest in shade, and restock what he could.
The glimmer of Elysium was far away, not visible at this distance though everything ahead was flat. Sand blew, but there was the hint of mountains in the distance, and there, he knew, Elysium in a valley. First, however, was a frontier town of no note, wooden structures offering only enough protection to survive a sandstorm. D trotted his horse into the town and stopped near one of the tying posts outside the general goods store.
Other wagons abounded. The town was more trading post than anything else, but people no doubt lived their day to day lives here, too. That was visible in the windswept, sandy hair of a woman who paused, holding a basket of goods, when D made his way towards the door of the general goods store.
“Don’t forget to pick up water. Or get another sort of drink.”
D ignored the familiar voice and its implications.
Water, of course, was on his list. He needed water to drink, and to dissolve his tablets of synthetic blood in.
So water was among the supplies D picked up, as well as synthetic grass. He needed little else, and was soon out of the shop, and tipping his dark, wide-brimmed hat to cast a shadow over his beautiful features as he turned back towards the cyborg horse.
Sadly, there were no recon hawks available. He wasn’t surprised, though he was disappointed. He had wanted one to fly over Elysium before he had to enter it himself.
“You should have bought the salsa booze. Do you know how hard that is to find?”
Again, the familiar voice went ignored as D tucked the water into one of the saddle bags, before offering the grass to the cyborg from his own hand – his right hand. Silence fell for a few moments as the horse ate in peace.
The silence was broken by raised voices and D let his attention shift in the direction of the sounds, which seemed to be coming from an alley not far away. “Hm.”
“Might be a pretty damsel in distress.”
No comment, but D set the grass down and moved towards the alley to determine what the fuss was all about, his steps silent.
~***~
Baron Byron Ruthven had woken from his long, long slumber to find his childe had abandoned him. He woke to no servants, no childe, naught at all. It was a wonder he woke at all, when he learned what became of the world, and that Nobility no longer reigned, a surprise to one who could claim to be older than plenty of others. How could anything usurp them?
‘Transient Guests Are We.’
The Sacred Ancestor’s words mocked him, but so did rumor that his childe lived, and had made a new haven for herself.
For him, truly, though she did not know it yet. The problem laid in finding it, and in travel, a problem solved by turning a few humans, and promising to turn others, so he could have a few who worked in the daylight. With such promises, getting a carriage, horses, and other such things was not difficult.
And the humans went out from his ruined, underground home, traversing the wastes humanity had made of their home – stupid, insignificant creatures, ruining everything they touched when they lost the proper guidance of the iron fist of the nobility. Ah, but Byron would remind them, soon enough…he would have it all again.
One such human who was enamored with the promises was the young Claire Lovelace, a vivacious brunette of only nineteen, who knew well her beauty and hoped to retain it for all time. Byron whispered such promises in her ear of making her his childe, of her replacing the Red Bitch, and of living at his side as an equal, too naïve to realize the words were all lies practiced over several millennia, which had wooed more than one woman.
Not including the Red Bitch of Elysium.
She was given an Atomic Bike to make use of, and some uranium to fuel it, but no one had known how far she might travel, and both Claire and Byron were woefully ignorant of how difficult such fuel was to find. She had been on her way to Elysium, finally thinking she found the place her future-sire sought, when her bike finally gave up the ghost.
She was able to sell it, for more than it was worth with a bit of anxious wiggling and biting her lip, tossing her hair and smiling. Enthusiastically responding to such gratitude also helped, and so she had a room for the night as she considered how to continue her travels across the Frontier to this place she really didn’t know the direction of.
Just East.
Just mountains.
As she sipped her wine at the bar, she considered the need to buy a compass, before her ears perked up as she heard a conversation from another table, and the word Elysium. She turned around and saw a few talking, but one stood out to her – his eyes were sharp, alert. Hazel. And he seemed to be the one doing the questioning. ‘Looking.’
She promptly got off her stool and went to their table, “Excuse me,” she went back to false anxiety, false timidity, “Did I hear you say Elysium? I’m—I’m heading that way myself,” she bit her bottom lip as she looked between the group, waiting for confirmation, to hear if one of them was heading that way.
And leaned forward a little, as if to hear them better. Of course, the idea was to make her seem more enticing, more like someone they’d want to make happy, as they could take a good look at what her white shirt didn't cover. Men were easy.
It dripped from the tongues of people in the Frontier, the way El Dorado and the Fountain of Youth had misted over the lips of countless conquistadors and explorers in ages before. It was a name D had heard with little consideration, because it had meant little to him. No jobs pointed that way. All implications suggested it may very well be a mirage, a hope, in the desperate minds of desperate people.
East of the Capital, far, far East, he had come to learn it was not false – at least, not completely.
He had come to learn it was spoken of with both malice and reverence.
Finally a job was leading him that way: a rebellious daughter, set on becoming a merchant on the Frontier, had been missing for months, and her family believed it was Elysium she had been lost in, because that was where she planned to stop for supplies, where she heard women were as equal as men, and could find support, and rare goods. The parents refused to go there themselves.
Outside of being dubbed a paradise, the crystalline walls of Elysium may as well have held a sign above it, announcing to others to give up all hope, for none ever seemed to leave. Was it by choice? That, D did not know, and that, D was determined to find out as he made his way upon his cyborg horse towards Elysium, now that he had directions and a decent description of the town so he knew what to be on the look for.
Of course, there was still distance to travel.
Towns to stop in during the day to take a moment of rest in shade, and restock what he could.
The glimmer of Elysium was far away, not visible at this distance though everything ahead was flat. Sand blew, but there was the hint of mountains in the distance, and there, he knew, Elysium in a valley. First, however, was a frontier town of no note, wooden structures offering only enough protection to survive a sandstorm. D trotted his horse into the town and stopped near one of the tying posts outside the general goods store.
Other wagons abounded. The town was more trading post than anything else, but people no doubt lived their day to day lives here, too. That was visible in the windswept, sandy hair of a woman who paused, holding a basket of goods, when D made his way towards the door of the general goods store.
“Don’t forget to pick up water. Or get another sort of drink.”
D ignored the familiar voice and its implications.
Water, of course, was on his list. He needed water to drink, and to dissolve his tablets of synthetic blood in.
So water was among the supplies D picked up, as well as synthetic grass. He needed little else, and was soon out of the shop, and tipping his dark, wide-brimmed hat to cast a shadow over his beautiful features as he turned back towards the cyborg horse.
Sadly, there were no recon hawks available. He wasn’t surprised, though he was disappointed. He had wanted one to fly over Elysium before he had to enter it himself.
“You should have bought the salsa booze. Do you know how hard that is to find?”
Again, the familiar voice went ignored as D tucked the water into one of the saddle bags, before offering the grass to the cyborg from his own hand – his right hand. Silence fell for a few moments as the horse ate in peace.
The silence was broken by raised voices and D let his attention shift in the direction of the sounds, which seemed to be coming from an alley not far away. “Hm.”
“Might be a pretty damsel in distress.”
No comment, but D set the grass down and moved towards the alley to determine what the fuss was all about, his steps silent.
~***~
Baron Byron Ruthven had woken from his long, long slumber to find his childe had abandoned him. He woke to no servants, no childe, naught at all. It was a wonder he woke at all, when he learned what became of the world, and that Nobility no longer reigned, a surprise to one who could claim to be older than plenty of others. How could anything usurp them?
‘Transient Guests Are We.’
The Sacred Ancestor’s words mocked him, but so did rumor that his childe lived, and had made a new haven for herself.
For him, truly, though she did not know it yet. The problem laid in finding it, and in travel, a problem solved by turning a few humans, and promising to turn others, so he could have a few who worked in the daylight. With such promises, getting a carriage, horses, and other such things was not difficult.
And the humans went out from his ruined, underground home, traversing the wastes humanity had made of their home – stupid, insignificant creatures, ruining everything they touched when they lost the proper guidance of the iron fist of the nobility. Ah, but Byron would remind them, soon enough…he would have it all again.
One such human who was enamored with the promises was the young Claire Lovelace, a vivacious brunette of only nineteen, who knew well her beauty and hoped to retain it for all time. Byron whispered such promises in her ear of making her his childe, of her replacing the Red Bitch, and of living at his side as an equal, too naïve to realize the words were all lies practiced over several millennia, which had wooed more than one woman.
Not including the Red Bitch of Elysium.
She was given an Atomic Bike to make use of, and some uranium to fuel it, but no one had known how far she might travel, and both Claire and Byron were woefully ignorant of how difficult such fuel was to find. She had been on her way to Elysium, finally thinking she found the place her future-sire sought, when her bike finally gave up the ghost.
She was able to sell it, for more than it was worth with a bit of anxious wiggling and biting her lip, tossing her hair and smiling. Enthusiastically responding to such gratitude also helped, and so she had a room for the night as she considered how to continue her travels across the Frontier to this place she really didn’t know the direction of.
Just East.
Just mountains.
As she sipped her wine at the bar, she considered the need to buy a compass, before her ears perked up as she heard a conversation from another table, and the word Elysium. She turned around and saw a few talking, but one stood out to her – his eyes were sharp, alert. Hazel. And he seemed to be the one doing the questioning. ‘Looking.’
She promptly got off her stool and went to their table, “Excuse me,” she went back to false anxiety, false timidity, “Did I hear you say Elysium? I’m—I’m heading that way myself,” she bit her bottom lip as she looked between the group, waiting for confirmation, to hear if one of them was heading that way.
And leaned forward a little, as if to hear them better. Of course, the idea was to make her seem more enticing, more like someone they’d want to make happy, as they could take a good look at what her white shirt didn't cover. Men were easy.