As we trek through the forest, marching along a dirt path, Alexander decided it was time for some conversation. “Although I told you to hold your questions until we arrive at the city, that doesn’t mean I need to hold mine, so first question; which major countries still have a monarchy? Is it still just the UK, Japan, and some other European countries?”
Britain? His designation “of Macedon” suggests that he’s an ancient Greek Macedonian. Why would he know or care about modern monarchies? “It depends when your information is from, and how does a macedonian even know what the UK is?”
“My information comes from new arrivals like you, and the last one was in early 2023, so I suspect I'm a little out of date, since it’s late 2031 if our clocks are correct.”
Clocks to know the year? “It’s early-ish 2032 actually, and the only change in monarchies since 2023 was that Japan abolished the position of the imperial family after the emperor died in 2027.”
“Japan ehh, I suppose that makes sense. Japan had no aristocracy, right?”
“Not since after World war II as far as I’m aware.”
“The end of empire’s.” he remarks wistfully, “well then, next question, what did you do?”
Shit. “what did I do? What’s that supposed to mean?” I retorted. “Are you saying I did something that ended me up here, like the silly christian belief of hell?”
“I meant occupation, what you did for a living, anything major you did that defined you. However, the comparison to hell isn’t to bad, no that it’s some burning wasteland, because it’s not and that’s pretty clear, but that we must all have been placed here for a reason.” he stops walking and turns to me, “either that or the whims of the gods, but that doesn’t seem likely. This is no heaven. Many of those here were major figures in their lives, those with great ambitions and unfinished business which they were pulled from far too soon. But none here were saints, not evil for the most part, but not all good either.” he pauses after speaking in an eerie tone, he continues a few seconds later with a more cheerful disposition. “Enough of that, you’ll see soon enough. Back to my question,”
“I worked in manufacturing.”
“Factory or artisan?”
“Factory of course.”
“Past are the days where you can go to the local blacksmith and have them forge you a sword by your own specifications. What a pity.” he murmured mournfully as we resumed walking. “At what level?”
Level? “Pardon?”
“Did you work in an office or a factory, administration or production?”
“Production, I worked in a factory.”
“Management?”
Ugh. “Machine operation.” I responded sharply
“My, my, I’m not just asking these questions to pry. I need to figure out what role you will play in our little civilization. Can you fight?”
“I can handle myself. I'm ex-military, in a sense. Why’s it relevant?”
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“The arena might be suitable for you, although it might take you some time to get over your training.” Bleeding infernos, what’s with this guy? They have gladiators here, and he considers it a good option? In response to my bewildered and accusatory glare, he stops, laughs, and then in a single fluid and swift movement, his hand moves into his and pulls out a shining blade which severs my hand through the frearm like a flash of lightning, despite my best efforts to avoid it. This guy is bloody mad!
As I turn to run away he grabs my right hand and, with the confidence and charisma of an indomitable tyrant, demands that I “Stop, look at your left hand, and think.” and, so I lifted the stump of what had been my dominant hand and watched its wispy end slowly creep out to reform what had been there before. It doesn’t hurt, there’s no blood or even my hand on the ground. It just dissipated, and it’s regenerating at a visible rate. What happens with more serious injuries though? Maybe this man isn’t so crazy after all, just not very good at communicating.
“Aren’t there better ways to tell people things like this?”
“Oh, good, so you get it! And would you have really believed me if I told you that any injury you get won’t be very painful and will heal within hours.” You’ve already established that we’re dead, so you really can’t make assumptions. “Anyway, maybe you do have potential as a gladiator. I was aiming for the elbow but you managed to save a good part of your forearm from my blade.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about the idea of fighting for sport. What are my other options?”
“Those are yet to be decided.” he responds as he walks briskly, “you seem to misunderstand. As great as I am, I’m not the one who makes all of the decisions, there are others who do such things. Now then, we've been moving awfully slowly, so how about we run a little.”
We’re in a forest! “I don’t have any shoes.”
“So? Follow me.” and with that he runs off into the trees. I chase after him, with my best attempts to ignore my almost fully missing hand and how the rocks are taking pieces out of my feet.
After a little while, maybe around 15 minutes, the trees started to thin out, and for every two trees there was, a stump could be found as well. “Come on, we’re almost there!” I hear Alexander shout from around 15 meters ahead.
“Can we stop and rest for a moment?” I ask faintly, “maybe on one of those tree stumps, so I can sit down and take a moment to heal, or reform, or whatever the right term is.”
“What do you mean? You’re hand is already back anyway, and as I said we’re almost there.” he replies while looking me over, “Mm, what happened to your feet?”
“Rocks.” I respond monotonously, having slowed to a walk. What do you think happened!
“Eh, too bad. The city isn't far enough for it to be an issue now,“ he quips, having come to a stop. “We can walk the rest of the way though.”
“Thanks.”
He turns back towards the edge of the forest and calls “come on then.”
We continue on for a few minutes as the tree’s thin and open into a grassy plain with the occasionally stump or lone tree. “Can you see it?” Alexander asks.
“See what?” I respond, guarding my eyes against the suns light Suns? Stars? What are they called here? Alexander lifts his finger to point of into the horizon, and I gaze of into the direction. “Oh.”
“You see it now?”
“Yeah.” I say as I stare at the distant silhouettes of homes, buildings, walls, and towers. Of stone, of wood, of straw, of plaster, cement, brick, and drywall. Traditional chinese style buildings, menacing european castle-like structures and towers, modern homes and structures, and constructions of materials unclear and designs before-unseen.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alexander lift his arms into the air and announce, “Welcome, to the grand city of Elysium!”