The city of Rexlin was known as one of the most wealthy and influential locations in the Coalition. Once a moon bearing the same name, the city was now a densely populated metropolis after terraforming. The moon orbited the gas giant, Tyfel, which was the largest planet in the Inner Rings. The neutron star Tyfel orbited led to the planets in this system being exposed to extreme conditions.
While other planets orbited Triss, only a few were habitable, leaving most of the fifty barren. Compared to all the others, however, Rexlin was by far the most powerful. The megacities' double tidally locked orbit with Tyfel allowed for elevators to be used between the two for manufacturing hyperite, one of the most valuable materials for military applications.
With all these rare conditions surrounding a single planet, and the city itself being the primary source of hyperite in The Wheel, it quickly became a feeding ground for the rich and powerful. To host such esteemed residents, the planet transformed from industrial megastructure to residential resort. The atmosphere was maintained with the utmost cleanliness, and kept at the most comfortable of temperatures.
Atticus Drake lay on a roof to a luxury hotel, which gave a wondrous view of Rexlin beneath him. He was a twenty-year-old man whose occupation and lifestyle were one of simplicity. For his job, he did what he was told. His lifestyle was to do what he felt good about. Most people created false goals for themselves of ‘being good people’, and ‘leaving a legacy’, but Atticus understood that those ambitions were falsehoods cloaked as virtues. People only ever really did what they felt like doing, so he removed the middle man and just did whatever he desired. The roof gave him vantage to an apartment building over a mile away. Today he was told to kill somebody.
His target was a manager for a prevalent hyperite manufacturing company. According to his tasking the man was doing something wrong. Atticus didn’t really care. People who paid for assassinations sometimes tried to explain to him why his target needed to die, which always amused Atticus, so he often let them go on. Ah, humanity was eager to justify killing itself. Why not just enjoy it like a normal person?
He pulled out a communication device with sufficient security not to be tracked after his mission. Everyone living in Rexlin had brain interfaces allowing them to access the broader networks reaching across The Wheel, but for now, he had to remain offline for the sake of security. On the other end of his handheld phone was a woman who worked at the building where his target lived. “Place the device on the security console and await further instructions.” He said cooly into the device. Having to press a button to make the device operate was so much more visceral and satisfying than the smooth, effortless communication available over the network.
The woman whose name he didn’t know would not dare disobey his orders. He’d shown her an image of her son tied up when they first met and told her to do what he said or her child would die. She had looked at him then and saw every marker of a human being. The man she saw was athletic, had average looks, and had brown hair and eyes. The only problem was that when she looked at him, she couldn’t have ever mistaken the monster before her as a human being. While holding all the traits associated with people, he was lacking in the one unknowable thing that separated man from monster. She knew then that she would die by his hands. She just hoped to spare her son the same fate.
Instead of wasting her breath, the woman placed the blemishless cube on top of the security console in the building's basement. The defenses of most buildings in Rexlin would ward off space debris and other hazards, which occasionally threatened their occupants. The devices the woman carried would allow the defenses to be temporarily dropped, and to avoid leaving evidence.
“It’s done. Please…” The woman’s voice came from the device, but atticus switched it off right as she began her pleas. He might enjoy hearing them, but his job required absolute professionalism. With the connection to his handheld device lost, the deadman switch in hers activated, causing the metal cube and the hyperite hidden in her phone to change phases.
The hyperite cube on top of the security console acted simply. It turned into a liquid able to move through solid objects, but which was highly corrosive to gold. All gold circuitry in the security console was eaten away, as the liquid metal moved through the floor and towards a hyperite collector somewhere deeper in the city. Hyperite could be programmed to shift between two different states. This was used for countless military applications, but normally it was used sparingly and for more subtle effect.
The two sheets of hyperite in the phone acted similarly. One ate away at the electronics of the phone before falling through the floor. The last component was a fast acting neurotoxin which led to rapid organ failure and death. Just like the other two uses of hyperite, one of its most valuable traits was the ability to most through solid metal, so this too fell through the floor.
In the seconds leading up to the security failure, Atticus breathed in deeply, allowing his muscles to relax. He tightened his core, shifting slightly to accommodate his weapon. It felt really good to do something well! His skills perfectly matched his job, making the sensation even better. Today, like most days, he would make God smile.
* * *
He never imagined he’d have the prosperity to afford an apartment like the one he lived in on Rexlin. Three bedrooms, a spacious living area, and a full kitchen decked out with a top of the line food fabricator. Kellis was truly grateful to the winds of fate for bringing him here. Another stressful day working the hyperite mines, although as a manager, most of the stress came from other sources. His employees were beginning to put together a union, so Kellis had had to fake some technical issues to extend their lunch break. He liked the people he worked with, and didn’t see any harm to himself by giving them some time to organize.
Every day, he’d oversee the collection of unrefined hyperite chunks from the elevators sent into Tyfel’s atmosphere for processing. The raw materials were pulled from the planet, but processing them into usable metal was a labor-intensive task. The materials would be pulled in and out of the atmosphere several times, before being dismantled and sent to other facilities. Being part of this process was a lauded job opportunity, so Kellis tried not to complain too loudly.
Kellis was a mostly average Namoko. All he really wanted from life was a satisfying career, loving partner, and maybe enough credits to retire before getting too old to enjoy himself. He stood four foot five, making him rather tall for his kind, but aside from that if someone wanted to paint a picture of a Namako it would likely bear great resemblance to himself. His eyes took a large portion of his stout, lizard-like face. His scales were green, and he lacked any decorations making him stand out. Namoko hands were known to be small, and they were often looked down upon by larger races for being cute.
Pulling out his keys, he reflected on how many of his goals he’d already achieved. He had met a wonderful partner and had two children with him. His kids would be inside today, since it was his turn with them. He’d succeeded in having a loving partner until the bastard left him, taking most of the money in the separation. “Linik, Marli, I’m home!”
“Yayyy daddy!” Two adorable voices came prior to the haphazard footsteps of youth. The two young Namoko came bounding through the hallway with arms outstretched. They still had the telltale signs of youth, but Linik, the elder son, was starting to grow in some neck frills like his other father’s. Their scales were multihued. Linik, at twelve years old, was starting his growth phase, and would need a few more years before he had his final molt.
“Good afternoon, little ones,” Kellis said, kicking off his shoes in the foyer and catching his children as they leaped into his arms. “What do you have planned for me tonight?”
“We can play Galactic Heroes, and we can play space pirates, and we can play a ton and ton!” Little Marli declared proudly, her sing-song voice still carrying the signature lisp of young Namoko.
“Oh? Galactic Heroes, huh? But you always beat me, Marli! You’re just so good at it!” Kellis said with a fatherly lie, booping her on the snout. For the first time since he dropped his kids off two weeks ago, he let a genuine smile fall comfortably across his face. His career was going well despite the high stress of his daily life. He’d been lucky to have his contract bought out by this company when his previous employer was dissolved. All their previous assets were auctioned and lotteried off, so Kellis’ current employment was as an asset to fulfill a longstanding debt owed by his old employer.
Putting down his kids and walking further into his lodgings, he helped them get settled at a small table in a living room and moved towards his kitchen to get some snacks for their upcoming game time. He opened the pantry and grabbed some fish crackers from the Namoko homeworld, Home. As he was getting a couple bowls to distribute the snacks, however, he heard a sudden change in the ambient noise. He could hear the deep thrumming sounds of Rexlin staying alive, massive machines and batteries and technological marvels. These sounds were normally muted constantly by personal devices, or infrastructure put in most buildings.
The sudden change in ambient noise and air pressure was confusing, but Kellis didn’t linger on it long. He shrugged to himself and returned to his task. He’d likely forgotten about a message from his landlords warning that the sound suppression systems were going down for maintenance. Walking back towards the living, he paused to lovingly watch his son and daughter talking to each other while setting up their board game.
* * *
The moment the defenses dropped, Atticus was ready. He quickly located the target, mapping him through two walls using infrared sensors connected to the scope of his rifle, and he fired. The whole gun constricted as if compressing all the air inside it. The dark metal began to glow blue along the barrel. For the span of a second, the illumination of energy showed the weapon to be made of thousands of tiny hexagons, rather than any large pieces of metal. A piece of the same phase changing metal the size of a distal phalanx was launched from the barrel, which in turn expanded apart to decompress the explosion. The barrel then snapped back together and the last fragments of the sound were redirected to be absorbed by Atticus’ body. The overall sound profile of the shot was similar to a sharply drawn breath. The piece of metal launched at two-thousand five-hundred meters per second would have a far more violent effect.
* * *
Kellis started walking towards his children when suddenly his world went dark. His two dearest children watched as an object of ineffable speed created a passage through their father’s head. The hole didn’t continue, but stopped shortly after leaving his head. The pressure and kinetic energy transferred through his skull caused it to expand outward, separating into smaller pieces to accommodate the growing volume needed to contain what used to be a head. Dark blood painted the hallway where he had stood, and the bullet from which his death was delivered seemed to lose all momentum and begin to fall. Just like other objects created with hyperite, the formless blob of fluid metal sank through the floors without regard to the typical restrictions of enclosed spaces.
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An investigation would have later been conducted regarding the murder of Kellis Ultari, a well-respected manager for a prevalent mining company. The investigation would be largely fruitless, bearing very little tangible evidence. The building security measures had been expertly cut off, and the motivation was equally puzzling. A woman had been found in the basement, her pink hair falling to create a halo for her corpse. Cause of death could not be verified.
* * *
Atticus left his perch and quickly made his way to the high-class hotel suite he’d rented for this occasion. Returning to his bed he let himself fall asleep. His neural interface was reconnected after he fully dozed off. It was much easier to duplicate and fill in the brainwaves of someone sleeping, so he had fallen asleep shortly before his network connections were dropped. Falling back asleep allowed him to be reconnected to the network without an apparent drop in signal. Given that there were dozens of densely populated locations the shot could have come from, Atticus was almost certain his involvement would never be considered.
A notification jolted him awake, demonstrating both him being online and the successful performance of his fake mental activity. The voice of God came to him then. “Go home and prepare yourself to self isolate for three days. That stupid ticket you have claims tomorrow will be special. I don’t intend for your stupid game to go on any longer.” The voice sounded like a person's voice, but due to its nature, Atticus was unable to comprehend any feature to define it. The voice was neither male, nor female, callous, nor kind. It was simply and truly divine.
He sat up from the cool and comfortable bet, sending a simple affirmation in reply to God. Getting up and donning clothes, he reached into his pocket and felt at the ticket God referred to. It was silly, but he’d found the ticket to be unlosable, and halfway expected that it was a test for him; his deity faking annoyance while ensuring he followed it’s words.
The ticket had arrived inconspicuously in the post two years prior. The odd thing was that any time he destroyed or lost the ticket, it would arrive back to him inside a day. For the first two weeks, he tried to get rid of it, destroying it, or leaving it in secure locations, but it continued to return to him in perfect condition. All traces of the old ticket were also removed. Atticus made a point not to fight nature. He gave up on testing the ticket, assuming it was either given to him by God, or part of some obscure rule of the universe he hadn’t previously known.
He had done research, but nobody else in The Wheel had reported a similar item. Nothing at all referenced the event the ticket alluded to. The ticket was a piece of paper, an archaic visual medium not used in ages. Portrayed was a young, red-haired man in a suit not matching any popular styles. The man gave two enthusiastic thumbs up and wore a smile filled with terrifying joy. There was text on the card, written in the universal language most inhabitants of The Wheel spoke. “Congratulations! You are the winner of surviving your upcoming World Closure. This event will take place on the two hundred and twenty-second day of the Wheel Standard Calendar.”
Returning to his house in one of the more secluded neighborhoods of Rexlin, Atticus removed his outer layers upon entering the foyer. The house was modest, but having a house at all on the famously vertical Rexlin was an incredibly expensive prospect. Of course the house was provided by God, so Atticus didn’t put any energy into questioning it. He had long learned to expect to be wrong any time reality clashed with his personal expectations.
His instructions from god were clear, so upon arriving home he ensured that the feeding device was topped off, and took a quick shower. His shower was cold and functioned to simply wash his body of any dirt or grime. He took no pleasure from the water washing over his skin. Normally he would enjoy the sensation of a shower, the heat or cold washing over his skin causing it to relax or break out in goosebumps. Today, he simply washed himself off and moved to his bedroom to dress.
His two goals guided him in all things. First was his job, to follow God in all things, and second was to do what he felt. The first rule was absolute, and when enacting the will of God, atticus was able to completely divest himself of desires. The second was a way of life, marking him as powerful and decisive. Why would someone ever do something that didn’t make them feel good, unless they were completing that act as a way to stay in line with the laws of nature? God was absolute, and as such Atticus had long ago learned that doing what he wanted absolutely equated to doing what God wanted. It was a simple logic, in that disobeying the laws of God would result in far more suffering than obedience. The thing he wanted was both instantaneous satisfaction, but also to accumulate the most satisfaction over the course of his life, so trying to fight reality and go against God was complete madness.
Returning to his room, he got dressed in simple, loose fitting clothing. Dark pants, and a cream shirt. With his preparations complete, he went to the hatch leading to his basement. Going down the ladder, he saw a familiar and comfortable room. It had plain concrete walls with chains attached to one wall. The chains weren’t there for him, since he would never try to escape, but were instead there to remind him of how fruitless it was to deny God’s designs. Also in the room, near the chains, was a tube that would always give enough nutrients for one person to survive. The tube provided a mixture of water and other flavorless necessities, enough to keep one person alive.
He sealed the hatch leading to the basement and all the lights of the room went out. Aside from emergencies, only God could open the door back out of this room. Although it said he would be here for three days, Atticus silently expected to be down here much longer. There was no emotional reaction to the knowledge he could be down here for the next ninety days, instead he just focused on what he was here to do. This place was for reflection and self critique. In his mind he replayed his most recent kills time and again in his head, working to revise his planning process and make it more efficient. Next time, he would find a way to kill the target without leaving a hole in the walls between them. This allowed authorities to at least know the direction from which his bullet had traveled. The hours passed with him in a similar state of meditation until eventually the day of the World Closure came.
Atticus had been in deprivation for only twelve hours or so when he felt the ground quake beneath him. This wasn’t something completely outside the possibilities of what God might put him through while down here, but it was still a shaking of such fidelity that it was hard to imagine it came from anything but the foundations of Rexlin itself. Had this been the extent of the strangeness Atticus would have ignored these premonitions, but after his chip disconnected from Wheel networks, he got up and blindly walked back towards the latch he came in on. Attached to its underside was a wired phone, using physical connections between himself and God to make it nearly impossible to track or decrypt. Picking up the handset, he placed it patiently against his ear and waited for the words from the other end to come first. He waited the required ten minutes without a sound from the phone.
According to protocol, he could then speak. “I will be manually exiting this bunker under the assumption of physical risk to yourself or your assets. Should this decision prove to be a mistake, I will accept any punishment.”
His voice didn’t rasp, or stutter. Each word came out smoothly in an absolutely neutral accent, and he didn’t inflect at all in his speech. When speaking to a person, he would put character and emotion into his speech, but when speaking to a God, he conveyed only the information required. God cared not if he sounded professional, scared, or annoyed. It simply wanted a tool to use for its ends.
After another minute of hearing nothing on the other end, he began the process of opening the door from the inside. He reached for a console beneath the latch, only to realize it wasn’t functioning. Once before, God had simulated a power outage and state of emergency, requiring Atticus to leave his containment via manual means. Thinking this may be something similar to that, he got to work.
Atticus spent five more minutes taking apart the door from the inside. Manually depressurizing the security bolts keeping it closed. After finally exiting his isolation, he observed the complete lack of power in his house. He walked outside, onto the porch at his front door, and found no lawn to walk out on. He saw below him was Rexlin, but not like it had been before. His house was stationary. Held in a force-field of some sort, preventing any of the massive explosions happening below to affect him. Rexlin was falling from below him inciting intense vertigo as the world itself moved, leaving him behind.
Rexlin was falling into Tyfel. As the planet moved into full view, distancing from his solitary house, he also saw a glowing white speck that seemed to cause the commotion. Leaving behind a massive crater and exit wound, the speck flew at ludicrous speeds, passing through all of Rexlin in moments. The artificial bones of the planet failed. The many layers of previously liveable space were gradually twisted into a nest of incredibly valuable scrap metals. He thought maybe there could be survivors, but as the white form flew towards him, he was given reason to believe he was the only resident of Rexlin left alive.
A tall woman with silver skin flew in his direction. She wore nothing aside from a backpack. The nature of her skin revealed only a silhouette and nothing inappropriate. Atticus thought maybe she was the true form of his God, finally done playing pretend on the tiny planet she had just destroyed. The backpack, however, stood out almost as much. The backpack served as a vessel, crafted from black glass so dark that a star's shape could be observed through it without blinding the viewer. Behind the glass were things Atticus had never seen before, but which he knew with absolute certainty were other people. The essence of their beings filtered out as their bodies turned to dust. Their very souls were now contained in this vessel.
As the silvery woman approached him, slowing her pace, he concluded she was not God. God would never look him in the eyes, nor would it slow the destruction for his sake. The woman reached his house, floating by some power of her own, and stepping onto the porch. She stood seven feet tall, looking down at him imperiously. Perhaps she was a god, just not the one he knew.
“Lemme see your ticket.” Her voice was stern, almost annoyed, as she reached out her hand. Rexlin further collapsed behind her, the lack of air between the city and house resulting in a noticeable lack of sound as massive structures shredded against each other. The moon reached the mesosphere of Tyfel and began to burn against its dense gasses.
Taking all this in Atticus remembered belatedly that the death machine before him had requested something. She had single handedly destroyed one of the most valuable and defended locations in the Galaxy. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ticket and handed it over, half expecting the ticket to mysteriously end up in his pocket again like it had all the other times.
She grabbed the ticket and looked it over, seeming simultaneously annoyed and amused at its content. “Ugh, you’re part of that batch.” She grabbed a device out of the air and began typing on its interface. “You’ll need to step through the portal that appears. I’m gonna get back to kicking ass now.” So saying, she flew back to the planet accelerating to breakneck speeds as he tore through Rexlin a final time, leaving a trail of molten metals and kinetic forces.
For the first five seconds after the powerhouse woman left, Atticus simply adjusted to his new reality. He thought about his old job of killing people, and how he’d been utterly upstaged by someone far more capable than him. What would it take to attain power of that scale? He didn’t spend any thought ruminating on everyone who’d just died. Nor did he ponder the broader ramifications for his galaxy. For those five seconds, Atticus focused on what he felt, his desires and ambitions shaking and crumbling around him. The intoxicating glory of shifting his entire view of reality along an entirely new axis was resplendent. Feelings were everything. Sensation was law, and Atticus was one of the few who truly lived in life with this fact.
Those five seconds passed, and in front of Atticus, a rift in reality tore itself apart. It reminded him of how faster than light travel was achieved in his society. Ships would be equipped with Rift Drives that would open holes in space to travel through. He understood she wanted him to walk through the portal, and seeing the power on display, he saw no reason to fight destiny. He walked through.
On the other side, things happened, but for some reason beyond him Atticus found himself unable to remember them. The time between leaving his reality and entering the other was a blur. He had learned much, but what those things were, he couldn’t be sure. When he began his first fall, he felt as though his skin had fallen off and a new set replaced it. His bones ached as if they two were not yet settled in his body. Fundamentally, Atticus Drake had been changed. He had learned and forgotten that he would have to change far more to survive what came next.