I remember something like war.

It comes to me in nightmares. I'm scrabbling at the stone under my feet, trying to find shelter, but getting nothing. I hear disembodied screaming somewhere behind me, somewhere far away, but too close at the same time. I wonder if the screaming is mine. I float above my body and watch myself, watch the shaking of my hunched form, watch myself throw up all the nothing in my stomach as my people die behind me.

I wonder, every time I have this nightmare, why such a thing would happen. We as a society were tense. Even as a child I knew that. My skin hadn't yet darkened to jet black, so the scrapes showed prominently on my arms and legs, and I felt the wetness cleanly on my face, even though I didn't feel myself crying. I didn't think I was. I just wanted to run, but my legs were frozen.

Here, everybody brags. Humans brag. Some are kind, but many of them brag. They tell me that if it were them they would have run. I don't think they would have, but I don't tell them. They've never known that kind of fear.

Everybody I know is gone. Everything I love is dead.

I don't remember my name. It disappears in a blush of violet and sparks that burn my hands and eyes.

Then I wake up. I always wake up. I don't remember what happened before or after that, but I do know where I am now. It isn't the home I was born in, it isn't the home that was destroyed, but it is a home.

My home in the Overworld. 7:48 in the morning. The redstone alarm screeching like an alarm siren. My nightmares are the only thing that tether me to who I was in the before-times.

Now I might as well be just like everyone else.

I live in a human village. It's pretty advanced, as the towns go. We have redstone power in every house, and most places have running water. It's well-lit, so there aren't any monsters in the streets when I rise and pull back the curtains, letting in the dim light. It falls on my skin, giving the charcoal-coloured surface some luminosity.

My mother, the adoptive one, calls my name from somewhere across the hall.

"The mail's come in," she says, "Kaius."

I call back and decide to wash first. I pick up my special towel in the tiny bathroom, a single ray of light coming through the raised window, and wipe myself down. No water. Not since a stinging day a few years ago when I tried to make a wish in a fountain but ended up burning my hand.

The towel's dry, but it still does a good job at wiping off the dust, and I don't sweat nearly as much as the humans do. The air is still steamy from her shower when I'm ready to leave, and I wince as I walk out, wishing I could sweep the moisture from the air. But, I remind myself, it's something they need.

The envelope is a buttery yellow. Creamy-soft like the luxury desserts we only have on holidays, when the sky goes dark and I feel something like recollection. I touch it with my fingers, trying to recall something about a black sky and a cream-coloured surface, but she nods and I go back to trying to open it.

I get it open easily. The human kids at school tell me I have long fingers. I've got on a long-sleeved black shirt, the one they tell me makes my hands look even longer. I don't mind it, since it makes me blush, and blushing is a good feeling to me.

She says it before me, brown hair falling over her face, lined with gentle curves that hint at her age. I see her excitement out of the corner of my eye. "You've been chosen." There's wonder in her voice.

Chosen. For a program, or something. I can hardly believe my eyes. Not because I'm happy, and not because I'm afraid, but because I don't know what's coming and it'd be silly to judge before I read the thing.

"Dear Kaius," I read, following it with my surname. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been randomly selected from your class of peers to take part in a Journey - " I pause to emphasize the capitalization - "a Journey to discover new and exciting parts of our world and those beyond it.

"You, the recipient, have proven to be a capable, intelligent, and resourceful person - " I stifle a laugh - "and will give this letter of acceptance to your homeroom teacher at the school you are currently attending to register your name on our list." I pause to take a breath. I'm beginning to stutter. "We hope to . . . to see all of you at our meeting on the seventh day of the month."

She jumps, a little jump, and claps one hand over her mouth. "Kaius! This is wonderful!" She's always had high hopes for me, since the day she took me in. In fact, the first clear memory I have of my life here is the look on her face when I looked at her for the first time. Briefly, and it was painful, and I didn't even look her in the eye, but I didn't look at the floor, either. I still usually do that. I'm happy that she's happy, but I'm still trying to understand what there is to be so happy about.

"What is it, Mom?"

"You haven't heard at school? I would have thought you'd hear it at school." I shake my head.

"It's a field trip of sorts, I think. A long one. Only you'll be the explorers." She grins again. I can't see it, but I can hear the click of her lips pulling apart. "The leaders. The pioneers!"

"Mom!" I'm laughing now, but it's a pensive laugh. "Really?"

"Well, yes." She sounds more serious now. "They need a team of able young adults to do this. Not old folks like me."

"You're not old." I touch her hand lightly. It's very warm against the iciness of mine.

"Oh, stop." She giggles. "You can do this, Kaius. Of course, if you don't want to - "

"I'll do it."

The words surprise the both of us. They seem to have popped out of my mouth without even taking a moment's hesitation. I'm surprised by how much I suddenly want to say yes. Maybe then the other kids will accept me as one of them, and I'll get to feel like my body belongs to me when I see all that scenery. It's such a strange feeling that I've been living with for so long. If I do this, I might not feel so displaced. I'll get to do things I've never done before.

I grab my hat and scarf, the deep purple ones that she says match my eyes. I'm never sure if I like my eyes, given how little time I've spent looking at them. They're very large, and very shiny - the most prominent feature in my face. My nose and mouth are nearly invisible. I wonder if, to them, I'm just as invisible. The sick Enderboy who saw something terrible he can't even remember.

I head off to school after I give Mom a reluctant hug. The trees that line the gravel walkway sway in a slight breeze, and the tiny stones crunch under the light weight of my feet. I feel light. I feel ready. I feel like a Something, something like the rest of my peers, for the first time in my remembered life.