Arthur wades through the murky water, barefoot. His feet are raw — cuts split open and bleed before healing again.
He’s caked in dirt and grime, stomach empty, every part of him aching.
“I hope the others are okay.”
He looks out into the distance—
—and sees the city.
“Oh thank gods,” he says. Two weeks in this swamp is two weeks too many.
His head tilts upward… then sinks into memory.
---
It’s a beautiful, sunny day on a planet that could pass for Earth—
if not for the two suns burning overhead.
The family hikes along the side of a cliff. The view is staggering.
Trees tower hundreds of feet high.
A river of crystal-blue water winds through the valley.
Bird-like creatures sweep graceful arcs across the sky.
Anna smiles. “We should come back here and do this again. It’s beautiful.”
Thomas takes it in with quiet awe. “I’d say this could be the perfect vacation spot.”
Arthur scans the valley. “We could buy a little piece of land… a couple hundred acres.”
Sarah’s eyes glow at the thought. “We could build a cabin on that ridge up there.”
Arthur laughs softly. “Sounds like everyone’s in agreement.”
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The faint buzz of vehicles on a distant road pulls him back to the present.
Arthur blinks — the memory dissolves into the swamp’s damp air.
---
He pushes through the brush and steps onto cobblestone.
His bare feet slap against the stone.
“Civilization.”
A hover truck slows beside him.
Inside, a middle-aged man — well dressed, but not fancy — smokes a pipe.
“You alright?” the man asks.
Arthur stops, leaning toward the window. “Yes, sir. I’ll make it.”
He forces a tired smile. “The name’s Arthur.”
The man extends his hand. Arthur takes it.
“Nice to meet you, Arthur. I’m Stregg.”
He already knows the answer, but asks anyway. “Need a ride?”
“My gods, yes,” Arthur replies instantly, a faint grin forming.
“Hop in the back,” Stregg says. “I’d let you up front, but I don’t think I’d ever get this thing clean again.”
Arthur chuckles. “No worries. I can stretch my legs back there.”
He climbs into the truck bed as the first drops of rain begin to fall.
Their patter pulls him outward — and backward — toward memory.
---
A long-forgotten forest on Earth.
Arthur huddles in a makeshift shelter, branches leaned against a crooked old oak — barely enough to keep off the rain.
He eats a rabbit, charred and steaming, over a small fire.
The silence breaks — voices, footsteps, a snapping branch.
Arthur stiffens. He hasn’t seen another soul since the Proteous bomb.
Fear mixes with the smallest flicker of hope. Strangers could mean danger… or salvation.
Two men round the corner, drawn by the smell of food.
They raise their rifles.
“Don’t move,” the first man says.
Arthur slowly lifts his hands. “Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed.”
Sarah whispers from the Void, worried.
“Are they going to rob you?”
The second man asks, “What’s your name?”
“Arthur. What’s yours?”
“I’m Bill. This is George.” He nods toward the other man.
“Anyone else around here?”
“No. Just me,” Arthur says.
“You’re the first people I’ve seen since—”
He stops, voice unsteady. “I was scared I might be the only survivor.”
Bill nods toward the fire. “Mind if we sit with you?”
Arthur lowers his hands. “Sure. The rabbit was small, but you can have some.”
A small smile. “You seem like good folks to me.”
Sarah hears him and begins to relax.
George brightens, hungry and exhausted. “Thanks.”
The fire crackles. For a moment, they’re simply three men alive together.
A loud honk snaps Arthur forward across the centuries — back into the hover truck.
---
Just inside the city, Arthur spots a credit machine.
“Stop here, Stregg.”
Arthur hops out, presses his finger to the console, and taps the screen.
Three thousand credits dispense.
He walks back and hands Stregg a thousand.
“Thanks for the ride. Can you take me a bit further? A hotel, maybe.”
Stregg laughs. “For this much money, I feel like I should let you stay at my place.”
Arthur grins. “My friends will be looking for me. They’d never find me there.”
Stregg nods and drives on.
Moments later, he stops again.
Arthur jumps out. “Thanks, Stregg.”
“Good luck finding your friends,” Stregg calls as he pulls away and disappears into traffic.
Arthur turns toward the hotel — a six-story stone building with about sixty rooms — and walks inside.
---
A bag man steps forward. “I am Zohn. May I help you, sir?”
Arthur hands him his shredded shirt and fifty credits.
“I need a room.”
Zohn pinches the shirt between two fingers and carries it away.
Arthur moves to the front desk.
“I need a room. Make it a suite.”
He drops a thousand credits onto the counter.
“And I’ll need some clothes. If you could get me some, that’d help.”
He writes down his sizes.
The clerk hands him a palm scanner. Arthur presses his hand.
It beeps three times.
“Room 603. The door will only open for your handprint.”
Arthur steps into the elevator.
The doors close—
—and open on the sixth floor.
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