It was on the fifth day after the "the incident" that Nigel finally realized that he no longer required sleep or nourishment.
He had been spending his nights on great adventures, exploring his second home in the Penumbra. Just last night he had spent the better part of five hours walking the great distance of the world inside the shadow of a bottle of table salt. Sleep never crossed his mind.
It began when he went to a small diner in search of a new friend to make. After a few kind words to a young waiter named Derran, Nigel was promised a free meal (and the location of a warm bed partner), despite his lack of funds. They brought him out a thin ham steak, two boiled chicken eggs, and four triangles of golden toast moist with sodium based butter substitute. It simply occurred to him that this was the first food that he had seen since his arrival on Clark Memorial Station. Although he did not feel hungry, he decided to try to eat.
Upon placing a bit of ham into his mouth, it also occurred to him that he had lost the ability to taste and smell. Thinking perhaps it was simply a poor quality piece of ham, he decided to sprinkle some salt on it. His second attempt yielded similarly flavorless results. The thought of this disappointed and worried him. He began to fear that he had undergone other changes as well, without having yet discovered them. The panic set in again, and seeking refuge Nigel reached his hand into the shadow the salt bottle cast across the table, and pulled himself inside, leaving his fear and any illusion of a body far behind.
It was here he walked, and thought about what his life had become. He struggled with the idea of never being the same again. This train of thoughts soon left him as he became lost in the peacefulness of the shadows. He didn't want to go back to the way he was. He was free now. Free from the pain of the real word, and more in tune with his fellow man than ever. He no longer saw, touched, or smelled others. He simply experienced them. Looking into their eyes he could see everything they ever wanted. Touching their skin he could feel every sensation they had ever felt. Kissing was like being in a soft blanket of passion. No, he would never want to back to the way he was. This thought process stayed with him for the hours he spent walking.
When he once again began to feel his connection to the real world slipping, he decided it was time to return. With a wince of pain and quick loss of eyesight he was back at the table. The food was still there, cold and stale. There was a note from the young waiter stating that he "knew it was too good to be true" and "Never expected to be so lucky". He decided he would return again and apologize to the boy.
The restaurant was clearly closed, and many tables were left dirty. Nigel later learned this was due to the fact that the young waiter walked out mid-shift in a fit of depression. He sat there alone in the light-less diner looking down on his plate. He wished he could taste again. He remembered the ham his mother would make back home for some holidays, or the flavor of fresh bread out of the copper oven at his grandfathers house. He could almost smell it. He took a deep whiff and realized he indeed COULD smell it. Without thinking he began to eat the food in front of him. Each bite of ham was as sweet and juicy as any meat he had ever tasted. The bread was warm and soft, yet flaky and buttery. He wasn't tasting the stale food that went into his mouth, but instead the the shadows and memories of every good meal he had ever eaten during his entire life. It was the finest meal Nigel had ever tasted. Tears trickled from his eyes as he wiped the crumbs from his face. He suddenly longed for the touch of another... He decided then and there to find the young man who he had upset so greatly, even if it meant he had to jump to every shadow on this whole station in doing so.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was almost morning when Derran realized he was not alone in his room. He had cried himself to sleep. He didn't know why he let the stranger have such an effect on him. Maybe it was because for the first time he truly felt attracted to someone, or maybe it was because of the harsh realization that he was interested in other men. It had been a confusing night. As he sat up in his bed, he thought perhaps he was still dreaming when he saw the beautiful stranger peel from the darkness of his bedroom wall, and begin hovering over him. Before he could let out a whimper of fear or joy, he was pulled upward, and together they sank deep into the shadows.
5.13.2009
Exerpt 1: Nigel Raskin "The Incubus"
With the speed and reluctance employed in tearing off an old bandage, Nigel tore out of his living flesh and slipped once more into the soft intoxicating darkness of the shadow realm. The snaking tendrils of living darkness wrapped around him and utterly consumed him, and in exchange he drank in the shadows deeply. They filled him past his capacity and he exploded into shards of smoke and black dust, that naturally became one with the nothingness of the Penumbra.
Every time he experienced the sensation it became more a part of him. There was no pain here in his new home. There was no weight, or cold, or noise to cause him any discomfort. He drifted without effort at great speeds through the water-like opacity of the Penumbra's hungry skies. He flew over dark spiraling towers of shadow, and under great looming clouds that melted like tar and dissolved all around him. He blew and drifted like a leaf on a gale wind, and simply let the shadows carry him to the next wonderful sight.
It was the sensation of fulfilling emptiness and improvised reality he had always dreamed about, before the hand of fate guided their passage through the actualization hidden deep in the bowels of hyperspace. It was better than his drugs. It was better than any physical sensation he had searched for in all his years. There was no way he could ever go back to the real world....but he had to. Even with the all enthralling comfort of his new world, he could tell there were places here he was yet to see. Outside the seeming infinite borders of his personal domain here in the shadow world, he could sense a darkness that went beyond any shade of black. There was a terror and chaos waiting just outside his bubble of safety. The idea of it all made Nigel feel confined, almost trapped in a cage of darkness. The sheer endlessness of it all made him feel very tiny in a place far beyond his comprehension.
The fear and panic began to take over, and with them the walls that protected him began to close in. He was running out of safe places. His world was shrinking. The terror and depression waiting at his borders closed in. Focusing his senses he could see past the darkness of his realm, and see tall green trees. He reached out for the nearest one as the prison of blackness snapped shut around him. With an explosion of senses he left the dark plane. Nigel was overwhelmed by the warmth and light of the false sun. The smell of the damp grass. The touch of the ground (which to some would be considered soft, but compared to the clouds of shadow it was like razor sharp flames). With a gasp and a muffled scream he fully materialized prone in the cast shadow of the tall oak tree in the center of Clark Station's off planet forest.
He lay there panting for some time. The sunlight creeping around the tree felt like flames licking at his skin. Even the soft smells of nature made him nauseous. His whole body felt so hot and heavy, like sacks full of sun baked rocks. It was not worth trying to stand yet. It was morning now. He had entered the shadows late last night. Time and reality slowly started to fit back together in his mind. It hurt. With a chuckle that sounded like a whimper he moved his hand slowly and sluggishly to his hidden coat pocket. Showing visible effort from the search, he produced a tiny black pill. It had a hair and some dust on it, not that he cared or noticed. Nigel dropped the pill into his gaping mouth before he let his arm fall back to the hard earth. Sucking and gulping with dry sour saliva he managed to get the capsule down, and almost immediately it kicked in. The darkness of his mind washed over him like a blanket, and all the pain and confusion went away.
There he stayed for hours, looking up into the Penumbra from the painful reality of the mortal realm. He watched it dance above him, like a painting being crafted in the sky. Drops of black paint seemed to drip onto his skin and make him smile. He just lay there and watched and smelled and tasted the doorway to darkness. He couldn't wait to go back......
Every time he experienced the sensation it became more a part of him. There was no pain here in his new home. There was no weight, or cold, or noise to cause him any discomfort. He drifted without effort at great speeds through the water-like opacity of the Penumbra's hungry skies. He flew over dark spiraling towers of shadow, and under great looming clouds that melted like tar and dissolved all around him. He blew and drifted like a leaf on a gale wind, and simply let the shadows carry him to the next wonderful sight.
It was the sensation of fulfilling emptiness and improvised reality he had always dreamed about, before the hand of fate guided their passage through the actualization hidden deep in the bowels of hyperspace. It was better than his drugs. It was better than any physical sensation he had searched for in all his years. There was no way he could ever go back to the real world....but he had to. Even with the all enthralling comfort of his new world, he could tell there were places here he was yet to see. Outside the seeming infinite borders of his personal domain here in the shadow world, he could sense a darkness that went beyond any shade of black. There was a terror and chaos waiting just outside his bubble of safety. The idea of it all made Nigel feel confined, almost trapped in a cage of darkness. The sheer endlessness of it all made him feel very tiny in a place far beyond his comprehension.
The fear and panic began to take over, and with them the walls that protected him began to close in. He was running out of safe places. His world was shrinking. The terror and depression waiting at his borders closed in. Focusing his senses he could see past the darkness of his realm, and see tall green trees. He reached out for the nearest one as the prison of blackness snapped shut around him. With an explosion of senses he left the dark plane. Nigel was overwhelmed by the warmth and light of the false sun. The smell of the damp grass. The touch of the ground (which to some would be considered soft, but compared to the clouds of shadow it was like razor sharp flames). With a gasp and a muffled scream he fully materialized prone in the cast shadow of the tall oak tree in the center of Clark Station's off planet forest.
He lay there panting for some time. The sunlight creeping around the tree felt like flames licking at his skin. Even the soft smells of nature made him nauseous. His whole body felt so hot and heavy, like sacks full of sun baked rocks. It was not worth trying to stand yet. It was morning now. He had entered the shadows late last night. Time and reality slowly started to fit back together in his mind. It hurt. With a chuckle that sounded like a whimper he moved his hand slowly and sluggishly to his hidden coat pocket. Showing visible effort from the search, he produced a tiny black pill. It had a hair and some dust on it, not that he cared or noticed. Nigel dropped the pill into his gaping mouth before he let his arm fall back to the hard earth. Sucking and gulping with dry sour saliva he managed to get the capsule down, and almost immediately it kicked in. The darkness of his mind washed over him like a blanket, and all the pain and confusion went away.
There he stayed for hours, looking up into the Penumbra from the painful reality of the mortal realm. He watched it dance above him, like a painting being crafted in the sky. Drops of black paint seemed to drip onto his skin and make him smile. He just lay there and watched and smelled and tasted the doorway to darkness. He couldn't wait to go back......
5.07.2009
Origins: Willam Brighton
The last protester's head hit the ground. The force of the blow knocking him unconscious and thus no longer a threat.
The uniformed FORS officer that put him there stood over the unconscious kid, before dropping his riot shield from ready position and sighing.
Willam already disliked this job. He had taken it for the money, but bashing the heads of teenagers protesting the Jump Drive didn't really leave him with a sense of justice. These kids were just speaking up for what they believed in.
Willam had originally gone into law enforcement in the hopes of joining Her Majesty's Secret Service. To Willam, there was no position more honorable than put his life on the line for his country. However, things don't always go according to plan, and when FORS approached him after his Academy training and had offered more than enough money to take care of himself AND his git of a brother, Willam just couldn't refuse.
FORS stood for Field Operations Resistance Specialist, basically a highly-trained Corporation-paid riot cop. The Corporations said jump and you jumped. Willam was good at jumping.
This assignment was the last step in his FORS training. There were always a few people opposed to Sampson's break-through invention and the companies would routinely throw a few FORS officers at the front gates to break them up.
Tomorrow, Willam would board the Empress of the Skies, the only single-jump ship in the galaxy and head for Clarke Memorial Station as part of a 12-man unit dispatched to keep the peace up there for a 12 month contract. It was supposed to be a pretty cushy job with not much more than some petty crime and drunken miners to contend with, and the pay-scale was AMAZING.
Willam had already received a sizable signing bonus to "put his affairs in order" before leaving, and he planned to give most of it to Liam and hope that the bloody piss ant didn't blow it on booze, dice and loose women.
Willam loved his brother Liam, but he continued to make bad decisions that reminded Willam too much of their father, who had run to the store one day, when Will was only 16, and never bothered to come back. Liam was always quick to jump into bad plans and worse life choices. Willam felt overly guilty about the way his brother had been raised in his teenage years, but he had done the best he could, being only 3 years older himself. He had dropped out of school at 16 and gotten a job to support them and keep a roof over their head, while making sure that Liam went to school and got an education. Liam always saw it as an unfair burden that his older brother was thrusting upon him.
Liam. Willam decided to go see him in person before he left, instead of just wiring the money and sending a message. And if he was passed out in his own vomit again, the oldest Brighton boy vowed that he wouldn't be the only one seeing stars tomorrow.
The uniformed FORS officer that put him there stood over the unconscious kid, before dropping his riot shield from ready position and sighing.
Willam already disliked this job. He had taken it for the money, but bashing the heads of teenagers protesting the Jump Drive didn't really leave him with a sense of justice. These kids were just speaking up for what they believed in.
Willam had originally gone into law enforcement in the hopes of joining Her Majesty's Secret Service. To Willam, there was no position more honorable than put his life on the line for his country. However, things don't always go according to plan, and when FORS approached him after his Academy training and had offered more than enough money to take care of himself AND his git of a brother, Willam just couldn't refuse.
FORS stood for Field Operations Resistance Specialist, basically a highly-trained Corporation-paid riot cop. The Corporations said jump and you jumped. Willam was good at jumping.
This assignment was the last step in his FORS training. There were always a few people opposed to Sampson's break-through invention and the companies would routinely throw a few FORS officers at the front gates to break them up.
Tomorrow, Willam would board the Empress of the Skies, the only single-jump ship in the galaxy and head for Clarke Memorial Station as part of a 12-man unit dispatched to keep the peace up there for a 12 month contract. It was supposed to be a pretty cushy job with not much more than some petty crime and drunken miners to contend with, and the pay-scale was AMAZING.
Willam had already received a sizable signing bonus to "put his affairs in order" before leaving, and he planned to give most of it to Liam and hope that the bloody piss ant didn't blow it on booze, dice and loose women.
Willam loved his brother Liam, but he continued to make bad decisions that reminded Willam too much of their father, who had run to the store one day, when Will was only 16, and never bothered to come back. Liam was always quick to jump into bad plans and worse life choices. Willam felt overly guilty about the way his brother had been raised in his teenage years, but he had done the best he could, being only 3 years older himself. He had dropped out of school at 16 and gotten a job to support them and keep a roof over their head, while making sure that Liam went to school and got an education. Liam always saw it as an unfair burden that his older brother was thrusting upon him.
Liam. Willam decided to go see him in person before he left, instead of just wiring the money and sending a message. And if he was passed out in his own vomit again, the oldest Brighton boy vowed that he wouldn't be the only one seeing stars tomorrow.
5.05.2009
Liam Brighton
THAWUMP!!!
The two boys woke up in the middle of the night from the sound of a horrible crash. Loud yelling was coming from the other room, though the boys couldn’t understand what was being said through the walls. Another crash came through the wall.
“You stay here Liam,” said the older of the two boys as he crept out of his bed and to the door. “I mean it”.
“But I wanna see what’s going on, Will! You aint the boss of me!”
“I’ll brain you good if you get out of that bed!” Willam scolded with hushed, but harsh tones.
Will moved to the door and opened it very quietly, as not to draw attention from whatever was going on outside. Moving through the door and down the hall the voices were much clearer. It seemed “Uncle Mike” had come over, and was yelling at Dad about money. Will was not sure what ‘meth’ was, but he figured he would just ask his dad later. Another crash made him jump as he peeked around the corner.
Scooting up behind the couch to get a closer look, he could see his dad on his knees begging Uncle Mike to just give him one more week. One more week for what, Willam wasn’t sure. Again, he’d have to ask his dad later. He was seven now, almost a man. He should be told more things.
Just then Will heard his dad shout, “Liam!”
Turning around Will could see his brother standing in the middle of the dining room, with a blank stare on his face. He was looking on the floor ten feet to Will’s left. Turning his eyes to the same place, Will knew what caused that empty look on Liam’s face. Their mother was on the ground, blood gushing from her head.
“Liam, go to your room! Now!” shouted Dad. “Please Mike, one more week!”
“Sure, sure. ONE week!” emphasized Uncle Mike as he left the house.
**
“WILLAM!”
“Whatcha need, Da?”
“I’m heading out to get smokes. Watch your brother while I’m out, ok?”
“What do you mean ‘Watch him’? He’s 13 now! He can take care of himself!” Will yelled back in typical teenager fashion.
“13? He acts like he’s 10. Just watch him.” And with that, he was gone. That was the last time the Brighton brothers ever saw their dad. He just went out for cigarettes and he was never heard from again. Liam always sort of figured it was due to some drug debt or something, and he had been tossed into the Thames with lead lining his shoes.
**
“Sit down, Liam, I have to talk to you”.
“What’s up, eh?” Liam said as he sat down on the couch.
“Well, you’re no longer in school. You’re 16 and you have something like a job. You SEEM to be able to hold your own out there. I…I’ve been accepted into the Royal Navy. I think I’m going to go, and I want to make sure you’ll be okay by yourself.”
The blank stare on Liam’s face told Willam nothing.
“We’ll see ya around then, bro.”
Without another word, Liam got up and walked out of the door.
**
“Liam, Wake up, you git!”
A kick to the ribs emphasized the voice’s want for Liam to wake up. The three people who stood over Liam took up most of the one room apartment that Liam stayed in. Somewhat because it was a small room, but mostly because two of them were very large men.
“Ugh, what do you lot want? I had a very late night last night. What time is it?” groaned Liam.
“Shut it. Mr. Chamberlin sent us. He…”
“Ted, I know who you are you, you bleedin’ nancy! I know who you work for. I think you enjoy these house calls far too much! You think you’re some bloody mobster from some flaming movie. What the…! It’s Ten Thirty! Why the fuck would you come over before Noon, you prat!”
“God damn, I hate you,” sighed Ted. “Look, mate, you owe 100k after last night, and you haven’t paid on the previous balance in two weeks. Now we all know that even the best gamblers go through some slumps, so I have something here to try to help you with your luck.”
THUMP! A full kick caught Liam in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him and waking him up in a very quick way.
“Your brother isn’t in town to keep you out of trouble any more, nor is he here to pay off your debts, you wanker! Get a job, rob a bank…I don’t care. Just get the money. You have four days. FOUR DAYS! If you don’t pay up by then, we’re gonna break your legs. How’s that for movie gangster?”
Another kick to the ribs and Ted and his two huge thugs left the room.
“Yeah. Get out of here, you twit,” Liam muttered under his breath.
Liam went to the sink, got a bowl out and made himself some breakfast. He flipped on the tele and sat down in his chair to try and wake up. He promptly fell back asleep.
Hours later, Liam woke up to see another figure standing over him. Boots, uniform, gun…
“Oh, shit!” Liam cursed as he tried to make a break for the door. A rough hand grabbed him by the back of the shirt and tossed him back down in his chair.
“What the fuck are you doing, you little prat? Calm down. Bloody little…”
Willam.
“Uh…what are you doing here?”
“I have some news. I got offered a job up on Clarke Memorial with FORS. I’ll be leaving tonight, I just wanted to stop by and let you know. Also, I figured you’ve probably accrued a few debts you’ve been slow to pay off, so here. Take this.” Will tossed a roll of cash onto the bed next to Liam. “It’s my signing bonus.”
“Tonight, eh? It’s a good job, then? Tea?” Liam asked absentmindedly as he started to count the wad of money.
“No, actually, I have to be going. I have to go report in ASAP, and yes, its quite a good job. I’ll try to send some more money once I get settled. It’s good to see you, little bro. Try to keep safe.”
“Yeah, so, maybe we’ll see you when you get some vacation time”, Liam said while fingering the wad of cash, a mischevious grin growing on his face.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t” a pained look grew on Willam “just use that to pay on some of your debts and stay the fuck out of trouble, don’t try to ‘grow your fortune’, that’s how you got in trouble in the first place. Keep your bloody nose clean!”
“Yeah, I promise I wont use this money to bet more. By the light of the Queen” the grin still there.
“Uh…ok. Well, see you around then.”
**
“One ticket for Clarke Station, please,” Liam asked the Lady behind the counter with the beehive hairdo. With no luggage to check, Liam got straight into the line that was boarding the shuttle. Behind him he heard some marching, the security detail that was making their way up to Clarke Station.
“What the bloody-…I swear to god, I’m going to kill you, Liam,” came a harsh but hushed voice from the middle of the security force.
With a chuckle and a wink in his brother’s direction, Liam handed the steward his ticket and boarded the passenger ship to start his new life, and to give his brother as hard of a time as possible.
The two boys woke up in the middle of the night from the sound of a horrible crash. Loud yelling was coming from the other room, though the boys couldn’t understand what was being said through the walls. Another crash came through the wall.
“You stay here Liam,” said the older of the two boys as he crept out of his bed and to the door. “I mean it”.
“But I wanna see what’s going on, Will! You aint the boss of me!”
“I’ll brain you good if you get out of that bed!” Willam scolded with hushed, but harsh tones.
Will moved to the door and opened it very quietly, as not to draw attention from whatever was going on outside. Moving through the door and down the hall the voices were much clearer. It seemed “Uncle Mike” had come over, and was yelling at Dad about money. Will was not sure what ‘meth’ was, but he figured he would just ask his dad later. Another crash made him jump as he peeked around the corner.
Scooting up behind the couch to get a closer look, he could see his dad on his knees begging Uncle Mike to just give him one more week. One more week for what, Willam wasn’t sure. Again, he’d have to ask his dad later. He was seven now, almost a man. He should be told more things.
Just then Will heard his dad shout, “Liam!”
Turning around Will could see his brother standing in the middle of the dining room, with a blank stare on his face. He was looking on the floor ten feet to Will’s left. Turning his eyes to the same place, Will knew what caused that empty look on Liam’s face. Their mother was on the ground, blood gushing from her head.
“Liam, go to your room! Now!” shouted Dad. “Please Mike, one more week!”
“Sure, sure. ONE week!” emphasized Uncle Mike as he left the house.
**
“WILLAM!”
“Whatcha need, Da?”
“I’m heading out to get smokes. Watch your brother while I’m out, ok?”
“What do you mean ‘Watch him’? He’s 13 now! He can take care of himself!” Will yelled back in typical teenager fashion.
“13? He acts like he’s 10. Just watch him.” And with that, he was gone. That was the last time the Brighton brothers ever saw their dad. He just went out for cigarettes and he was never heard from again. Liam always sort of figured it was due to some drug debt or something, and he had been tossed into the Thames with lead lining his shoes.
**
“Sit down, Liam, I have to talk to you”.
“What’s up, eh?” Liam said as he sat down on the couch.
“Well, you’re no longer in school. You’re 16 and you have something like a job. You SEEM to be able to hold your own out there. I…I’ve been accepted into the Royal Navy. I think I’m going to go, and I want to make sure you’ll be okay by yourself.”
The blank stare on Liam’s face told Willam nothing.
“We’ll see ya around then, bro.”
Without another word, Liam got up and walked out of the door.
**
“Liam, Wake up, you git!”
A kick to the ribs emphasized the voice’s want for Liam to wake up. The three people who stood over Liam took up most of the one room apartment that Liam stayed in. Somewhat because it was a small room, but mostly because two of them were very large men.
“Ugh, what do you lot want? I had a very late night last night. What time is it?” groaned Liam.
“Shut it. Mr. Chamberlin sent us. He…”
“Ted, I know who you are you, you bleedin’ nancy! I know who you work for. I think you enjoy these house calls far too much! You think you’re some bloody mobster from some flaming movie. What the…! It’s Ten Thirty! Why the fuck would you come over before Noon, you prat!”
“God damn, I hate you,” sighed Ted. “Look, mate, you owe 100k after last night, and you haven’t paid on the previous balance in two weeks. Now we all know that even the best gamblers go through some slumps, so I have something here to try to help you with your luck.”
THUMP! A full kick caught Liam in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him and waking him up in a very quick way.
“Your brother isn’t in town to keep you out of trouble any more, nor is he here to pay off your debts, you wanker! Get a job, rob a bank…I don’t care. Just get the money. You have four days. FOUR DAYS! If you don’t pay up by then, we’re gonna break your legs. How’s that for movie gangster?”
Another kick to the ribs and Ted and his two huge thugs left the room.
“Yeah. Get out of here, you twit,” Liam muttered under his breath.
Liam went to the sink, got a bowl out and made himself some breakfast. He flipped on the tele and sat down in his chair to try and wake up. He promptly fell back asleep.
Hours later, Liam woke up to see another figure standing over him. Boots, uniform, gun…
“Oh, shit!” Liam cursed as he tried to make a break for the door. A rough hand grabbed him by the back of the shirt and tossed him back down in his chair.
“What the fuck are you doing, you little prat? Calm down. Bloody little…”
Willam.
“Uh…what are you doing here?”
“I have some news. I got offered a job up on Clarke Memorial with FORS. I’ll be leaving tonight, I just wanted to stop by and let you know. Also, I figured you’ve probably accrued a few debts you’ve been slow to pay off, so here. Take this.” Will tossed a roll of cash onto the bed next to Liam. “It’s my signing bonus.”
“Tonight, eh? It’s a good job, then? Tea?” Liam asked absentmindedly as he started to count the wad of money.
“No, actually, I have to be going. I have to go report in ASAP, and yes, its quite a good job. I’ll try to send some more money once I get settled. It’s good to see you, little bro. Try to keep safe.”
“Yeah, so, maybe we’ll see you when you get some vacation time”, Liam said while fingering the wad of cash, a mischevious grin growing on his face.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t” a pained look grew on Willam “just use that to pay on some of your debts and stay the fuck out of trouble, don’t try to ‘grow your fortune’, that’s how you got in trouble in the first place. Keep your bloody nose clean!”
“Yeah, I promise I wont use this money to bet more. By the light of the Queen” the grin still there.
“Uh…ok. Well, see you around then.”
**
“One ticket for Clarke Station, please,” Liam asked the Lady behind the counter with the beehive hairdo. With no luggage to check, Liam got straight into the line that was boarding the shuttle. Behind him he heard some marching, the security detail that was making their way up to Clarke Station.
“What the bloody-…I swear to god, I’m going to kill you, Liam,” came a harsh but hushed voice from the middle of the security force.
With a chuckle and a wink in his brother’s direction, Liam handed the steward his ticket and boarded the passenger ship to start his new life, and to give his brother as hard of a time as possible.
5.04.2009
Origins: Nigel Raskin
Nigel was born and raised in the shadows of humanity. In order to really exist in Centrana 5 one must live in the luxury of the upper city. Clean air, shiny white buildings, and millions of new exiting things to spend money on. You didn't matter unless you had the money and connections to be part of the high life. As far as the business-men, lawyers, judges and doctors were concerned, the life forms living below them in the underbelly of the city were simply taking up air and causing that awful smell that the industrial fans (that they payed for with their tax dollars) have to blow back down into the shadows of paradise.
Centrana 5 started as an experimental city, as part of the "Self Contained Human Environmental Maintenance Project" or "Schemp". After decades of re-population and power shifts it degraded into a bizzar civilization in the middle of nowhere. Fully self sufficient, but it's isolation and technology levels made for great divisions between living standards and demographics of wealth. It turned out to be an experiment in human engagment without contact to the rest of the world. The underworld of Centrana 5 was originaly used for maintenace workers and on-site record keepers. With the evolution of the society, it degraded into a slum pit, and refuse collective. Now, so many years after the birth of the project, it is home to the poor and broken citizens living enclosed from the outside world, in the self contained city of Centrana 5.
The platforms and supports to the upper city hung overhead for his entire childhood, like iron clouds shielding his unworthy eyes from heaven. Power cords the size of fallen redwoods snaked through the streets he played in as a boy. They brought precious power from the generators Centrana 5 was built on top of, to the wealthy inhabitants of the upper levels. Some of the lower city dwellers, without homes or any funds, used the gaps and cracks of the great wires as shelter from the hazards of the under city. It was always cold, always dark, and never clean.
When he was still young Nigel began to draw pictures of the world around him. He had a knack for capturing the beauty and calm of the rotting slums he called his home. Many of the scraps of paper that were dumped and wasted from the upper dwellers, he would collect and use for his beloved artwork. His mediums where what he could find. Sometimes used paints, sometimes charcoal, but his favorite was always plain pencil and paper. It gave him the powers to create, and live.
The first time Nigel caught a glimpse of the upper city he was 14 years old. He, and one of his friends (he always had many friends) had climbed for hours up one of the huge garbage tubes that dropped the waste of the upper crust down into his backyard. He couldn't believe his eyes when he witnessed real sunlight for the first time. It made his skin feel sick and his eyes hot and dry. Everything was so radiant. Hiding in the darkness of alleys they explored a tiny corner of paradise, and both were filled with awe and wonder, that is.. until they were spotted.
A handful of wealthy sons and daughters stumbled upon them inspecting a mailbox, as they returned from a day of shopping and dining (as only the upper levels could supply). Raised in mindsets of hatred and bigotry, the rich boys set upon them. The healthy young bodies of the nourished lads were devastating when enraged to the sickly unwashed bodies of young Nigel and his friend. Beaten, insulted and incapacitated, they were dragged to the edge of Platform 4, where they boys proceeded to throw Nigel's childhood friend over the ledge, back down to the under city. Over 740 feet below. Nigel pleaded and begged, and against all odds, his words moved them. One of the young girls in particular found him fascinating. She insisted that he be left alone, and that was the beginning of a new way of life for Nigel.
For years he continued to sneak up to the topside. He would visit any one of the many young girls he grew close to, or spend time with the other boys his age, learning how to really live. At age 19, as he grew into his adulthood, he began experimenting with a new drug known as Melonax. He would steal and loan money from friends above and below, and each night he would pass out in a state of super-cognitive bliss. His artwork grew surreal and dark, as he would attempt to recreate his drug educed dreams. Dreams of a place dark and cold, filled with black towers and gray skies, but so soft and welcoming.
Unable to maintain this lifestyle without more money, he began selling both his artwork and his body. He started taking his drawings and getting sub-dermal nanotech implants all over his body, making moving and dancing tattoos that depicted the dark world he dreamed of. He was always strangely attractive despite his sickly upbringing. His eyes were dark and haunting and his body was long and toned. His curly black hair was untouched by sunlight, and darker than dark. The ladies payed good money for his company, and often men as well. He didn't care. He liked to be near people. He liked to have money. He liked to experience emotions, and share them with others. He was addicted to empathy, sex, and his beloved Melonax.
The last time he ever saw the Centrana 5 was from the window of the passenger ship taking him out to orbit. His dept had caught up with him. He had left too many broken hearts and angry husbands and wives. He had to escape from both the shadow and the light of his two worlds. Using all his remaining resources he bought a large stash of drugs, some decent clothes, and a one way ticket to Clark Memorial Space Station. He knew nothing about what waited for him there, or what kind of ship would take him to his new home. He just knew that he had to get out of the city, and into the quiet of space.
He couldn't help but notice, when looking for the last time upon his city, that the glowing perfection of the upper platform was far less beautiful than the flowing sheets of darkness that spread out below, blanketing the slums. He knew there was darkness in the top side. Not in the streets or skies, but in the hearts of those who ruled. Everything was so damned beautiful. He pulled out his sketchbook and began to work.
Centrana 5 started as an experimental city, as part of the "Self Contained Human Environmental Maintenance Project" or "Schemp". After decades of re-population and power shifts it degraded into a bizzar civilization in the middle of nowhere. Fully self sufficient, but it's isolation and technology levels made for great divisions between living standards and demographics of wealth. It turned out to be an experiment in human engagment without contact to the rest of the world. The underworld of Centrana 5 was originaly used for maintenace workers and on-site record keepers. With the evolution of the society, it degraded into a slum pit, and refuse collective. Now, so many years after the birth of the project, it is home to the poor and broken citizens living enclosed from the outside world, in the self contained city of Centrana 5.
The platforms and supports to the upper city hung overhead for his entire childhood, like iron clouds shielding his unworthy eyes from heaven. Power cords the size of fallen redwoods snaked through the streets he played in as a boy. They brought precious power from the generators Centrana 5 was built on top of, to the wealthy inhabitants of the upper levels. Some of the lower city dwellers, without homes or any funds, used the gaps and cracks of the great wires as shelter from the hazards of the under city. It was always cold, always dark, and never clean.
When he was still young Nigel began to draw pictures of the world around him. He had a knack for capturing the beauty and calm of the rotting slums he called his home. Many of the scraps of paper that were dumped and wasted from the upper dwellers, he would collect and use for his beloved artwork. His mediums where what he could find. Sometimes used paints, sometimes charcoal, but his favorite was always plain pencil and paper. It gave him the powers to create, and live.
The first time Nigel caught a glimpse of the upper city he was 14 years old. He, and one of his friends (he always had many friends) had climbed for hours up one of the huge garbage tubes that dropped the waste of the upper crust down into his backyard. He couldn't believe his eyes when he witnessed real sunlight for the first time. It made his skin feel sick and his eyes hot and dry. Everything was so radiant. Hiding in the darkness of alleys they explored a tiny corner of paradise, and both were filled with awe and wonder, that is.. until they were spotted.
A handful of wealthy sons and daughters stumbled upon them inspecting a mailbox, as they returned from a day of shopping and dining (as only the upper levels could supply). Raised in mindsets of hatred and bigotry, the rich boys set upon them. The healthy young bodies of the nourished lads were devastating when enraged to the sickly unwashed bodies of young Nigel and his friend. Beaten, insulted and incapacitated, they were dragged to the edge of Platform 4, where they boys proceeded to throw Nigel's childhood friend over the ledge, back down to the under city. Over 740 feet below. Nigel pleaded and begged, and against all odds, his words moved them. One of the young girls in particular found him fascinating. She insisted that he be left alone, and that was the beginning of a new way of life for Nigel.
For years he continued to sneak up to the topside. He would visit any one of the many young girls he grew close to, or spend time with the other boys his age, learning how to really live. At age 19, as he grew into his adulthood, he began experimenting with a new drug known as Melonax. He would steal and loan money from friends above and below, and each night he would pass out in a state of super-cognitive bliss. His artwork grew surreal and dark, as he would attempt to recreate his drug educed dreams. Dreams of a place dark and cold, filled with black towers and gray skies, but so soft and welcoming.
Unable to maintain this lifestyle without more money, he began selling both his artwork and his body. He started taking his drawings and getting sub-dermal nanotech implants all over his body, making moving and dancing tattoos that depicted the dark world he dreamed of. He was always strangely attractive despite his sickly upbringing. His eyes were dark and haunting and his body was long and toned. His curly black hair was untouched by sunlight, and darker than dark. The ladies payed good money for his company, and often men as well. He didn't care. He liked to be near people. He liked to have money. He liked to experience emotions, and share them with others. He was addicted to empathy, sex, and his beloved Melonax.
The last time he ever saw the Centrana 5 was from the window of the passenger ship taking him out to orbit. His dept had caught up with him. He had left too many broken hearts and angry husbands and wives. He had to escape from both the shadow and the light of his two worlds. Using all his remaining resources he bought a large stash of drugs, some decent clothes, and a one way ticket to Clark Memorial Space Station. He knew nothing about what waited for him there, or what kind of ship would take him to his new home. He just knew that he had to get out of the city, and into the quiet of space.
He couldn't help but notice, when looking for the last time upon his city, that the glowing perfection of the upper platform was far less beautiful than the flowing sheets of darkness that spread out below, blanketing the slums. He knew there was darkness in the top side. Not in the streets or skies, but in the hearts of those who ruled. Everything was so damned beautiful. He pulled out his sketchbook and began to work.
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