When I was in middle school, I once read a short story by the acclaimed science fiction author Harlan Ellison. It didn’t have a happy ending, but it was memorable. Set in a post-apocalyptic future, the last surviving humans are imprisoned by an advanced artificial intelligence responsible for the destruction of the human race. The AI enacts all sorts of twisted ways to torture its prisoners, even going so far as to mutilate their bodies and mess with their minds. The AI ensures they can never die or commit suicide. However, one of the characters, Ted, eventually finds a way to free his fellow prisoners by killing them, but he is stopped from killing himself at the last second. Angry at losing the other prisoners, the AI turns him into a harmless blob, and Ted’s last thought sums up the horrifying prospect of his eternal prison - “I have no mouth, and I must scream.”
I was essentially Ted after I was consumed by the blue light. Unless you’ve experienced it for yourself, you cannot fathom the terror of total sensory deprivation. I had become an existence not tied to any physical manifestation. I couldn’t hear, see, smell, touch, or move, but I knew I existed somewhere. The human mind wasn't made for such experiences. I wanted to scream.
I cursed White in all the languages I knew, which wasn’t many. Time became a foreign concept. Sometimes it felt like I had talked to White only moments ago. Sometimes it seemed we hadn’t talked for ages. I was going insane.
“There’s no need to panic. We’re just waiting,” White imprinted a message on me after a while. I hated to admit but I felt pure relief hearing him again.
“Waiting for what?” I asked hesitantly with my thoughts.
“A suitable host body,” White responded.
‘What the FUCK do you mean by a host body? I like my old one just fine!’ I blasted at him. After being subjected to such existential horror, I was too pissed to care about my mannerisms around White.
White, however, apparently didn’t feel the need to respond. I waited in silence for what felt like another eternity, until he finally spoke. “It’s time.”
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2nd Floor - Argenton, Miur Principality, Najin Continent
2583 PC
I awoke to find myself disorientated but alive. My hearing was the first to return, then came touch and smell. I couldn’t see, but I could hear men shouting in the distance and loud explosions. It sounded dangerous. The air smelled of sour paint, metal, and smoke. I could feel ambient heat from a nearby fire. My skull was pounding inside my head.
When I opened my eyes, everything was a blur, reminding me of the time I had tried on a friend’s high prescription glasses for fun. The lack of sight made me feel exposed, and I wrapped my hands around my arms for comfort.
‘No way,’ the realization that my body felt different, a lot smaller, hit me all of a sudden. ‘Did I seriously just become a kid again?’
My train of thought was disrupted by a shout. “Get the fuck out o’ there, lassie!”
‘Is he talking to me? Wait, this doesn't sound like English.’
“Can yer fuckin’ hear me, lassie?” I heard the same masculine voice again, except this time it sounded closer. “Move yer arse!”
‘Move where?’ I wondered as my vision gradually returned.
The first thing I did was to survey my environment, not knowing I would witness the most horrifying scene I had ever seen up to that point. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first time I encountered so much wanton death.
A village was engulfed in bright orange flames. I stood in the middle of a public square, and in the center a fruit stall was burning. Corpses of mostly women and children littered the grounds, joints and limbs bent in perverse angles. Their lifeless eyes were wide open, capturing the horror they must have felt before they drew their last breath. A breeze carried the putrid stench of gore and rotten fruit to my nose, causing my modern sensibilities to react violently. I buckled over with the intention to puke but ended up just coughing saliva.
“May Sola fuckin’ bless me.” I heard someone curse, though I’d never heard that strange phrase before.
Suddenly I found myself slung over a broad shoulder. Fear kicked my adrenaline production into overdrive. I twisted and screamed, but the man’s grip was far too strong.
“Let me go you asshole!” I yelled, pounding his upper back with my small fists.
“Yer sure got a nasty mouth for one so young. Quit yer yackin’. I’m tryin’ to save yer life,'' was his response. My supposed savior didn’t seem to care that I resented being manhandled.
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With me in tow we covered a lot of ground, and at some point I grew tired of struggling, so I let myself hang gracelessly like a rag doll. Despite having to see everything upside down, I could tell there was an ongoing battle happening around us. Groups of uniformed soldiers were firing rifles that possessed red glowing gems. The reverberations from the weapons could be felt many feet away. One explosion got real close to us, showering me with wet topsoil.
For some reason or another, White had decided to drop me in the middle of a freaking killfest.
‘What the crap, White?’ was all my soon panicking mind could think about. I didn’t feel particularly thrilled to experience the possibility of dying again. Shuddering, I recalled the image of the disemboweled child that I saw earlier and tasted bile.
“Stay here,” barked the man carrying me. The next thing I knew, he had tossed me into the back of a wooden carriage. “Ernst, Mvilga, Rachel, Kip. Pack it up. We’re retreatin’ to Crellmoor!”
‘Could you not treat me like a sack of potatoes,’ was what I wanted to say until I got a better look at his face. I was flabbergasted.
That man was not a man. I’d never seen anyone with such long and tapered ears. By all reckoning, I’d say he looked most like a dwarf - short, scruffy beard, ginger locks, and the whole muscular hammer-wielding package. Apparently, he had been carrying me on one shoulder while holding a seven foot long golden hammer with his free hand. The weapon looked exquisitely crafted, worthy of Thor.
“Oh my god,” I let myself gasp out loud, my mind racing to the conclusion that I was not just in some random alternate world but a fantasy world where dwarves existed. Did that mean elves were also real? Surely, I wasn't in the Tolkien-verse?
“I ain’t no god o’ yers. They’re mostly up in the higher floors,” the dwarf said as a-matter-of-fact, completely misunderstanding my remark. “Oi, Kip. Get yer arse over here and make sure this lassie’s aight in the head.”
A dark-haired boy, maybe twelve or thirteen in years, climbed on board. I tried to sit up, but the carriage abruptly launched forwards, causing me to lose my balance and slip back onto a pile of bags beneath.
“Hold still. I’m going to tend to your head wound,” the boy spoke with surprising gentleness, parting my bangs to inspect me. I felt an inexplicable rush of calmness. He rummaged through one of the bags in the carriage and acquired a jar of ointment. When he popped the lid, a strong herbal smell permeated the carriage interior. With two fingers, he swabbed the ointment and reached over.
I recoiled from habit. I wasn’t used to strangers invading my personal space.
“It’s okay. I don’t bite, I promise,” he assured. “But you’re gonna need me to look at that wound or risk an infection.”
What he said sounded reasonable. I eventually complied, having convinced myself the boy and his companion would unlikely want to hurt me after they just saved my life.
The paste was cool to the touch, and despite its olfactory unpleasantness, the pain on my forehead immediately began to recede.
“I’m a support-class aspirant specialized in healing,” he boasted.
‘What the heck is an aspirant?’ I wondered. I looked at him in confusion, which he must have misread as concern.
“You don’t have to worry. With my skills, the wound’s not going to leave a scar,” he grinned in an awkward way only teenage boys could. When the boy finished dressing my wound, he leaned against the opposite side of the carriage.
“Um thanks...,” I said unsurely, somewhat startled by my new voice.
“You’re welcome. Does it hurt anywhere else?”
I shook my head as I assessed him. He wore a set of leather armor that had definitely seen better days. A light scar ran down his right cheek, adding gravitas to an otherwise youthful face. The most interesting trait about him was his unnatural yellow eyes.
“What’s your name? You can call me Kip,” the boy introduced himself. “Did you live in Argenton?”
‘Argenton? Was that the village?’
“I...I don’t...,” I began, debating my best response. Telling the truth was out of the question. Who’d believe me anyways.
I quickly deliberated. ‘Should I feign amnesia? I could dodge unfavorable questions if I pretend to lose my memories.’
“I don’t remember,” I finally said, deciding to go with memory loss as my excuse. I hoped no one here could read minds like White.
“Oh damn. You must have hit your head harder than I thought,” Kip remarked.
‘Yeah, enough to kill the original host,’ I commented internally.
“Argenton is the village we just escaped from. My party was hired as independent consultants for the Crellian scouts, but we were ambushed by Judarian soldiers,” said Kip, scratching his neck uncomfortably. “I’m not sure how to say it, but maybe it’s best if you don’t remember anything. We weren’t expecting any villagers to have survived the initial assault.”
He let the weight of the sentence hang in the air. It meant no one in the village survived but me. Well, that’s not technically true since I’m not really this girl, merely inhabiting her body.
I wasn't sure how to reply, so I answered, “I’m Valerie.” Kip took my willingness to introduce myself as a good sign and smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Valerie,” he responded. “You’re safe with us.”
I took him at his word. From what I saw earlier, I’d wager the dwarf was strong enough to lift the carriage by himself. I wouldn’t want to butt heads with someone like that. Assured that the moment of danger had passed, my eyelids began to feel heavy. The adrenaline in my body had faded, leaving me with arms and legs that felt like lead.
“You look tired. Do you want to rest?” Kip asked.
I nodded, finding purchase for my head on a soft cushion. I barely noticed that Kip had magically conjured a fur cover from out of thin air.
‘Of course magic exists,’ was the last thought that crossed my mind before the weight of my recent ordeal dragged me into deep slumber.