(A/N: Wow, it's been awhile since I've done this. But, everyone seemed for the idea of me actually making a real fanfiction, so here we go. The scenery here was 100% inspired by Blackreach and The Vale in Skyrim. Because hot damn, those were gorgeous places. )
"There is perhaps no better a demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world."
-Carl Sagan
Sometimes, Matthew dreamt of space. Of the stars, the heavens, and what was beyond. Was the universe endless, or did it end somewhere? If it did, where did it stop? What was beyond the reaches of the universe? Or maybe, who?
Well, it's not like he'd ever know. To be honest, and entirely truthful, Matthew had never seen the sky. Never looked at the bright, clear blue of the summer sky, or the vast expanses of starry sky when the moon was gone. He'd seen pictures of course, but the only sky he knew, was the faintly glowing rocky ceiling, that soared high above his head. There was blue bio-luminescence and at one point, there'd been a 'sun', but it was gone now. If Matthew remembered correctly, it'd flickered and then died a few years back.
Or had it been a decade?
Time was strange down here. Sometimes, it would feel like he'd been wandering for days, but it had only been for a few hours. Occasionally, he'd look at his clock, after what only seemed to be a few minutes, and a few hours would have past. And occasionally, the clocks didn't even work. They just...stopped. And maybe later, like nothing had happened, they'd start up again. It was puzzling, but Matthew had learned to live with it. It didn't hurt him, so if the clocks stopped, he would be fine. It didn't hurt anybody in fact. Nobody at all.
Mostly because there was nobody left. (Nobody but him. Was he even real?)
He lived a quiet life. The last people had died so long ago, that they were nothing more than a faint memory in his mind, fuzzy faces, and voices that he knew weren't right. The buildings were quiet and empty, and Matthew found no need or urge to go in them. So he left them alone. Nature was gradually creeping up on them, glowing lichens and mosses, and several of the varieties of fungi that grew in abundance here. There were buildings that had been completely taken over, and were nothing but shells, ghosts of a past that was forgotten. Matthew would pick his way through them, and occasionally, would look at a house and try to remember who had live there. Majority of the time, he couldn't remember.
There was a lot he couldn't remember. Sometimes, it was his name (after he forgot it three times in one day, he'd written it down on a bracelet, and if he forgot, he would just look at that). Other times, it was where he was. But there was something. Something that niggled and itched at his mind like a bug that wanted to be free.
But he couldn't remember. Why couldn't he remember. When he tried to remember, it hurt. So he wouldn't. But it was just so irritating.
When the time called for it, Matthew could fight. Hand to hand mostly, but he was almost sure that he could use those odd things that sat in the corner of his room. He couldn't quite remember what they did. Something that he'd never have to ever use (Except when parameter 4 was violated, he reminded himself. What was parameter 4 again?)
Fighting wasn't something he did often. Only when the creepers threatened to overtake the console over by the massive ravine, or when the strange shambling monsters that reeked of leaf mould and fungi came near him. Even then, it was only once or twice a year that he did so. Or maybe once or twice a decade. Not that much, and he never got too hurt by it.
Except that one time. But he didn't like to think about it.
One day, he'd stumbled across something strange. It looked like a person, but it wasn't. Its skin was torn away in some places, and instead of bone and muscle underneath, it was metal. Corroded and rusted metal, with small wires peeking out where it's ear was. Matthew felt odd. Vulnerable. Like what he was seeing wasn't right, and that he should be scared. But instead, he bent down closer, to brush away the fine blond hair that was still remaining on the not-human. A single blue eye stared back at him, unseeing. (That's not right, it shouldn't be like this. He should be alive and awake. Happy. Energetic. How do I know this?)
Matthew stood up, trembling. He turned around, and walked away, still feeling off. Feeling wrong. Feeling like he was missing something. And he didn't look back at the immobile thing on the ground, afraid of where his thoughts would go. But he was mostly afraid of the fact that there was a hole in him that he hadn't been aware of now.
He was incomplete, but he didn't know what he was missing. (It hurts, hurts, hurts so much. Who is the not-human? Why are they hurting him?)
It had been oddly still lately. He probably should've expected something like this to happen. The ground and the high ceiling above were rumbling, a growl that wasn't coming from below the earth, like it always had. Instead, it was a roar that came from above. Was the sky itself tearing apart?
It went on for what seemed like days, or maybe hours. The growl of some unearthly creature, something hellish. And then.
It stopped. And a furious beeping sounded, drilling into Matthew's hearing and he stumbled up from where he'd been crouching, watching the dust trickle down from his ceiling. Glancing around, he couldn't find the source. He started to wildly pull things off of his cupboards and tables. It was coming from here. But where? It hurt his head, like the not-human had. Like he was forgetting something (Wasn't he always?) Something important that couldn't be forgotten. Almost throwing off papers from the table in the corner yielded the result of his searching. A machine, a console similar to the one beside the ravine. And unlike its partner, the lights on it were flashing wildly, and very urgently. Slowly, Matthew raised his hand, and touched it.
Oh.
There was a hum, a click, and then nothing.
Allen considered himself a very good pilot. An excellent one, in fact. Him and his partner, James, had gone through things that no one else could could ever even imagine. They'd seen creatures and planets beyond the wildest imaginings. So when they'd been called in, and told that the Empire had found the original Terra, the birthplace of the Humans, he'd accepted the mission without even pausing.
But even he was awed by the underground shelters the originals had built. Far underground, where the Nuclear fallout couldn't reach, they'd made a new life. It obviously hadn't lasted, if by the lack of welcome they'd gotten said anything.
Suddenly he heard a whine. A creak, like old robotic joints that had been running too long without maintenance. He slowly pointed his gun at where it'd came from, and loud click of the safety flicking off was deafening in the silence of the underground cavern. The whine grew louder, more rhythmic. Like footsteps. He could see someone approaching. Or, at least he thought it was someone. Out of the gloom, it slowly made its way over to him and James.
It was an android. One of the old service ones, that they'd used in the old Empire. It was old, and obviously not running the best. It tilted its head at them, the whirring hydraulics working hard. The fact that it was still running was amazing. It was over seven hundred years old, and still going. It said a lot about the craftsmanship of the old Empire. It spoke then, in a grainy voice, most probably unused for quite some time.
"I am service android forty seven, but you may address me as Matthew for all purposes. Welcome to the last home of the Great Empire. I hope you find your visit enjoyable."
( And there it is. Not really sure what it was supposed to be, but it's something. Review if that's your fancy, or even just leave a favourite. Either one works. )