A row of levitating coffins wound its way down into the folds of ancient, graffiti-steeped buildings. Accompanied by holographic memorabilia, the procession rivalled the neon sphere sizzling on the horizon past the smog.

Beneath steel quills that once were kaput stairs, wretched wires that summoned holograms, and smashed sliding doors was a dune of Coloradoan debris and sand hosting a protean crowd outside of the cemetery. The cemetery was divinely pristine; it could have been a 21st century asset that spawned from the past. The inhabitants of the desolate city made sure it was a respite in No Man's Land.

The crowd of mostly teenagers and children swayed from carousal to ululation when the row of caskets descended from the inky sky. A young man's carousal halted when he poured the remaining moonshine he had onto the potholed concrete in requiem, almost smearing Joaquim's kaleidoscopic red dress. Joaquim disliked the color red; however it was his older brother's favorite color and thus his brother's old clothes were used to make the dress that covered him from head to toe. His worldly body was that of a girl's according to the reality he was loaded into.

While thinking of him, Joaquim bumped into his older brother after dodging another sandy splash. The fermented air wafted around the peripheral sidewalk of the cemetery, hosting whiffs of perfume, cologne, and alcohol.

"There's my sister," Gabriel Wami whispered triumphantly. His swaying red jacket could have been taken right out of an Akira poster. The genetically-modified fireflies in his brown knapsack ignited their bioluminescence, heralding the incoming dusk from the last glints from the neon semicircle. Gabe turned himself to face his little brother, the fireflies behind him lending his silhouette a golden halo.

White humans and araks often could not deduce that Joaquim was related to Gabe. It was the only time they did not consider two black people to be related for some wild reason. It was so bloody obvious; their faces gave it away. Sure, Gabriel was light skin while Joaquim was far from it, but they both had the same full cheeks and vivid eyes.

"Where did you go?" Joaquim asked, turning himself as well. He could not quite face Gabe; the summoned holographic Alkrezian mask covered Joaquim's face. It was designed to require as minimal resources as possible, and it did not obstruct his vision at all. The digital distorts within the loglo temporarily cut the waxing moon and two crosses adorning Joaquim's neon mask.

"I was trying to shoo away the talking animal," Gabe replied, searching between the mournful trudges surrounding Joaquim. "According to the Alkrezian Odyssey... we are supposed to delete them."

"The beagle doesn't talk," Joaquim lied. Luckily, his older brother was bad at spotting a liar. "The beagle's just clever."

The canine must have tugged Joaquim by his ankles how he was suddenly pulled downwards.

You need to be more slick, Joaquim thought while meeting the gaze of high sentience from the beagle on the sand. The sentient gaze that once upon a time only humans and araks had. However, the dog's despondent appearance signified his true status in No Man's Land. It was as if his bones could slice through his thin skin at any moment as his joints had more florid skin than fur. The outline of the beagle's skull jutted further when he opened his jaw in hunger, casting morbid shadows as he was resisting the urge to speak.

Don't say anything. Please.

Joaquim dug into the patched hoodie pocket on his dress, remembering briefly the last time Gabe wore the hoodie when it was not cut in half. It was many years ago. However, with the backdrop of chewing and a ripping paper bag, Joaquim's stowed samosa was no longer in the pocket.

Joaquim followed the noises to find... Farouq.

"Thanks for dinner," Farouq muffled through the masticated samosa.

Joaquim could imagine the hunger vanishing from Farouq's gaze, however he had healed gashes instead of functional eyes. The duper's delight on his lips were brighter than the neon circle that drowned underneath the metropolitan horizon. The drone Visard that served as Farouq's eyes buzzed gently above the funeral march going down the dune.

"Why are you angry? What's wrong?" Gabe asked as Joaquim grabbed Farouq's beige kameez by the collar.

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"That wasn't yours asshole!" Joaquim yelled, grabbing Farouq's collar with his second hand.

"Do you really wanna to start a fight when Prophet Ameen is almost here?" Farouq asked with a grin. "You better let me go faggot."

Joaquim's wrathful fists were about to do a lot more than just hold onto a collar, however he did not have a death wish. The boy with a hologram mask and quilted dress did have a penchant to be self-sacrificing, but he certainly did not have a death wish. He did not want to disappoint the man he came on a pilgrimage for.

Indeed, the brothers did not come for the dead, as they did not know any of the teenagers or children in the coffins. They came for the glowing man behind the last levitating coffin above the dune and buildings.

Prophet Ameen.

The man's skin gleamed as if the sky was bare. It was a delicate brown; as delicate as sand on a freshly terraformed beach. With his youthful face, totemic jaw, and imposing presence, his appearance placed him anywhere in between his early twenties and early hundreds. Once the refurbished caskets and Prophet Ameen arrived above the crowd, Joaquim peered into the messiah's sepia eyes. They were so alluring that they reminded Joaquim of Jupiter's atmosphere, a planet he dreamed all his life to see up close. The levitating man's irises had the illusion of stretching for miles past the prophet's skull rather than stopping at his eye sockets.

Please don't go! I beg you!

The floating coffins descended past a ransacked bodega, turning the block to levitate across the cemetery gate with Prophet Ameen.

"Lil' Morti, are you awake?" Prophet Ameen asked.

Prophet Ameen was talking to a robot sitting atop the circular cemetery gate, and he levitated a little higher to Lil Morti's level. The bot resembled a copper toddler with its stature and skinny limbs. His large googly eyes sparked and he nodded. He opened his scalp and threw in his solar-paneled hat, and he pushed down the tiny windmills on his shoulders into his body. He skated down the steel fence, causing the scalpels, forceps, clamps, and saws to rustle in his torso. A make-up kit fell out of the broken clear lid on his torso, but he picked it up right away. The bot lifted his cartoonish head to meet the gaze of a man dragging a reluctant wife beneath the coffins and Prophet Ameen.

"Please don't go! I beg you!"

With enough force into her sliding sneakers, she stopped him temporarily. He rattled her pull at first, but then he took a few more deliberate steps before a calculated halt. Her eyes widened, she lost her hold of him, and she plummeted into the grieving crowd's arms. The man then marched beneath Prophet Ameen.

"Do not minister this funeral you false prophet!" the man yelled beneath him.

Before he and Joaquim were aware that he was no longer in the air, Prophet Ameen's bare feet touched the concrete by the yelling man.

"Do I hear blasphemy?" Prophet Ameen asked gently.

The man's mouth gaped at Prophet Ameen's supernatural swiftness, but he regathered some composure by flaring his teeth away from his celestial gaze.

"Young man, I do believe in second chances," Prophet Ameen murmured. "I'll give you one more chance to stop this nonsense before I arrange your meeting with God. I suggest choosing to stay among the living for a bit longer. Judging by your rib cage I can see through your ripped shirt, you could use my charity."

"You are no prophet. Give my sister back. She is in the third coffin," the man demanded.

Prophet Ameen smiled. "The Lord once said you shall know them by their fruits. I have brought back humans from the dead, cured man-made plagues, and made Babylon's descendants take refuge in flying cities. The miracles I have performed should be more than convincing."

Joaquim thought about the beagle dog. Now that Prophet Ameen was here, the beagle needed to leave immediately. After squinting towards the left into the horizon, Joaquim found the beagle running into the folds of the desert exhausting her residual muscle. There was a time Joaquim would do his best to denounce talking animals as encouraged in The Alkrezian Odyssey, but he had a soft spot for them. Some of them were born that way. The man that confronted Prophet Ameen was quiet the whole time, going back and forth between a shaky step back and leaning forward.

"I don't want my sister to be part of this funeral," the man reiterated. "You are just a supersoldier to me."

"I guess you have made your choice," Prophet Ameen said. "I would have given you the coffin if you repented."

The man's body from the neck downwards flickered. Joaquim stopped blinking, and he saw the body reappearing less and less. The body stopped returning after a final hallow flicker, leaving behind a floating head with a severed spine sticking out. Blood and spinal fluid dripped onto the concrete, the puddle it created raising grains of gravel to the surface. A radiant sphere appeared above Prophet Ameen, and the decapitated head flew inside it.

One by one, the humans in the crowd bowed down to Prophet Ameen. Joaquim shoved through bystanders, holding Gabe's hand as he strode towards Prophet Ameen.

This was Joaquim's chance. He never changed his appearance to reflect what he felt inside, that was a sin after all, but Prophet Ameen could exorcize those thoughts out of him. Prophet Ameen was omnipotent.

Is he? Joaquim asked himself. He immediately regretted it; doubting his holy prowess was a sin too. And it was almost as if Prophet Ameen could read his mind, because after Joaquim checked on Gabe one more time to make sure he was coming with him, Prophet Ameen was already observing Joaquim.

All three of them were now within arm's length.

"I have been waiting for you two, Naomi and Gabriel," Prophet Ameen said.