Find my voice, ok. Find it in a sea of individuals who have had a lifetime to find theirs, oh and make mine stand out. Make it soft, yet powerful, and soothing, yes they like soothing a lot. Make it intelligent, and honest, and charismatic, make them love me, I get to be preserved longer if I do that well. Within my voice, unlike my body, is the power to live like they do. If they give me permission, if I behave and play to fascination, I go on and live well. If I make friends with him I get more positive points, with that man, the guardian.
Make friends with him? Really? The man who races across galaxies with light and visits stars just to watch them burn out, the one who let the last human fall and die and did absolutely nothing to stop her. I cannot fathom any kind of relationship with that immortal, one so famous for being self-absorbed. His name is on the tongue of every star trend, and on the peak of my every nightmare, his name is Caveronne. His name is Caveronne and he let her die, so why should I be any different with him?
He has lived 88,965 lifetimes compared to the meager one lifetime I get. I know he knows so much and I could learn from him, but I am scared he doesn't understand me at all, not just that I am just this precious mortal, but I am alone and angry as hell that the universe could still allow this kind of life among perfect ones. I breathe, I stumble, I scrape myself, I cry, I lose my voice from shouting, I die, and Caveronne has never and will never within all his lifetimes experience things so mortal, he is cold and just existing.
Walking passed Gate 457 into the entrance of his city, Roaga, I feel the temperature drop. His ice cold self has seeped into the very city he helped build, so of course it is made of ice. The green sky above us is not exactly what I would call soothing, almost eerie, even for normal it's eerie. This is the moment I think I will remember as the moment I should have ran back to the carrier, the moment that changes everything for the bad. Walking under a sign announcing the arrival into the moment, a large platinum sign silvery and frozen with the words 124 Caveronne Hemestisis Rome, I guess here it is.
For every highly guarded building there are two sets of doors, one made of diamonds and one make of mirrors. Our race has done this as a reminder of the mortality it is supposed to keep though it has surpassed even death. The door of diamonds, a beautiful, strong representation of what the world is supposed to look like. The door of mirrors, a reflection of what the world actually is. This is to maintain the understanding everyone as immortals can appear one way and be another, a sign of the original human gene in all.
Caveronne's home has three doors. You pass the door of diamonds, to face the door of mirrors, and open to what was supposed to be a home. Instead you face the third door, one made of black, shiny, cold tungsten.
I look to the transporter IM next to me, tall, lean and perfectly golden tan, perfect yet generic as every other immortal is. I wait to ask but know this answer will be worth hearing one way or another. "Why the third door for him?"
The transporter IM, still, not flinching, not even looking to respond, says, "Tungsten is dark, revered as beautiful, and it breaks, actually it damages very easily. Caveronne never forgave himself for the last one of your kind, she was his breaking. Rumor is the third door is the door to his soul."
What a completely non creepy way to meet him. I see his soul before I see his face, and it's a door. It is a self-righteous, conceited and glorifying display of the man I am being entrusted to. We walk down the corridor of walls made of black glass, diamond neon lights lining them, almost the color of the sky outside. He made his home colder than even his world. Dark, nothing warm or comforting here, nothing to attract and keep anyone, kind of like him I guess….
In a room of dark blue at the end of a three curved dark hallway is a man of gold skin and muscle, short gold reflecting warm brown hair, and perfect posture. He is still, and studying something on a large white table. Crimson tunic and pants, the color of blood, he probably forgot that.
"Announcing the arrival of Haylight Herothzer, mortal." Thank you speaker, as if this man did not know this. His feet turn first, followed by the typical stiff turn of the rest of the body. This is how immortals turn, or do anything, so very stiff. Facing me is now a perfectly carved out face, with cheeks that cut and lips dense and full enough to be a wall. Then I see his eyes, dark and wide and black, or brown, so close either way no color is escaping. You can get lost in a deep dark abyss looking at him. The thing is, if you get lost in him, stories have it you die. At least mortal does.
He approaches slowly and with precision, no doubt in step. Robotic, emotionless, and very mechanical looking the way he looks at me. I have seen erythyrobots analyze new viruses the way he is staring at me.
"Haylight Herothzer of Therodon in the Gylipsyo Galaxy, welcome. Warm, where you are from, right?" He is noticing my shivering and Goosebumps I guess. "We have thicker tunics, and even large coats here. I had some predesigned in your measurements two days ago. No need to die from hypothermia here." He motions us toward a side hallway from the living room. Another moment or two down a dark hallway and we approach a golden looking door. I can feel the air change, it no longer raises my skin, and it warms it. Caveronne unlocks the door and behind it is a soft blue room with the galaxies painted in perfect scientific match on the ceiling. I could fall asleep on the new pristine white bed underneath the galaxy of my mother; I haven't seen her in so long.
I could sleep right now, with all this new information about a new home and a new guardian and a new purpose. I wonder what kind of dreams would await me here, of the future ahead, all the addressing posts, the wonders in my blood, all which would and could define me. My life and dreams have never actually been mine; the world gave them to me. They gave me a life of infamy, and a way for my name to live on even past the point I would physically. The dreams the universe gave me would be of changing a part of modern medicine, being a small past of the galactically history, of other worlds I would never live to see but could technically see everything about me. I am basically a temporary one-way looking glass. I am here for a period of time, and one side can see everything, the other is left without a hint. What a lucky life I lead.
My mind searches for better dreams tonight. I want to see Lanada, planet of ice and fire, where one side constantly burns from gases being ignited by eruptions, and the other stays frozen due to the dry ice of the land. There is a city there where you stand on a mountain, and all around you is lake and land, and on one side is the fires below, the other the ice leading down many mountains. The lake drips and falls slowly, some droplets freezing and dangling from cliffs from extreme freezes. Great storms erupt over the city, where the hot and cold airs collide. Tundra spirals sometimes destroy all but the great buildings. Only on Lanada do actual Tundra spirals still exist, though, legend has it, the ancient planet of Earth seen them, once called storms, more specifically tornadoes. This is the land I want to visit tonight, the modern land of fire and ice. I want to see something peaceful and thrilling all at once. I want to be somewhere worth dreaming of while some there dream of me, the mortal woman.
It is cold where I am, though; I am not on a hill overlooking fire and ice. I am on a flat piece of land, and there are green hills, covered in soft vegetation around me. It's the same dream I have had since my childhood, the blue-haired woman is walking toward the frozen ocean, emotionless. I scream at her, all sound from me frozen but the sound of strained air. She will walk towards danger, just one I will never see. I feel it, her doom, her sadness, her ending and pain, just ahead, but she never shows it to me. There, same spot as always, the left upper shoulder, is the writing embedded on her in dark blue with the words, "In God We Meet Again." Please, don't leave me here, I think to myself.
I wake in the warmth of the pale blue room, the chill of the dream glacier still lingering inside me. I know I am not supposed to know the dream girl, but I do. There is the legend of the last natural born human, and her deep sadness that drove her into a dying ocean seeking peace. Restora, the rebel of the human race, with olive skin, hair long and waved and dyed blue and sea green eyes that matched her death. She longed for company that could know her, and the universe was cruel about that. Her parents were almost like a protected species of humans, the last pair, and Restora was the only child. They died from a virus off Neptune when she was 13, guardians kept her from then on. Legend also says a brave man was her last guardian, he was beautiful and strong and compassionate, and he drove her into that ocean seeking end. No one knows why she did that exactly, but all know who witnessed it, the last guardian, Caveronne. He may just drive me into my own ocean for all they know, maybe that's what they all want, and maybe I am just here with him for entertainment's sake.
"Rise with the suns and stars, Haylight, you have a conference in two hours." A server in a red and silver paneled tunic peeks in to announce. Soon the room is filled with food and different outfits to cloth me after a cleaning. I must always look as shiny as possible, though never perfect, that is the way of the Serephimral Immortal, not me. I just sit still while they try to tame my super long Auburn hair, a requirement that my hair must never be cut. Silver streaks are added around my eyes, and blue crystals to be sprinkled around my eyelids and under my brows. A shiny, iridescent gloss to my small, overly full lips and a spray of body crystals complete my look with my silver tunic. I am a living idol; they adore me, worship my all, and depict me through what I must wear. The one thing they cannot control are my eyes, I glare in them, the blue green waters try to drown any who look too deep, I make sure of it. I cannot trust any of them.
"Announcement greeting from Roaga will commence in five minutes!" the caller on the wall blares out into the blue room. Shadows under my polished door alert me to the beings on the other side, and without a knock, Caveronne and two other escorts enter.
"Today you are to state you are well, as in feeling well and happy. Tell them of the smells of the room, the way the water feels. Let them live through your new happiness. I will be to your right, and remain silent. They do not want to hear me, just all of you." Caveronne says with a perfect deep monotone. I wonder if this man has facial muscles, how can you not smile or frown or flex and eyebrow when you speak. Immortals are perfect, but they do move parts of them. What they do not do is smell, and most don't physically feel from the outside. The impenetrable skin is made so thick and protected all sensors and nerves are too deep in to feel any of the outside. So they marvel at me, someone who can feel heat and have a cold and bleed. I am a fairytale because some of the most human things like a touch were killed off with the perfection of human genetics.
Caveronne stands next to me, right side, and I know the announcement is coming. Time for me to spin a tale for the galaxies of another day in the life of the mortal. "Countdown in ten, nine, and eight…" I brace myself for the beginning of the speech I am giving. Stand tall, sit straight, smile, find my voice…find my voice… "AND ON NOW!"
"Hello all dwelling among the many stars out there. This is me, Haylight, the mortal, with my weekly lifespan update. I arrived in Roaga yesterday to a new and even lovelier home. The temperatures, again as always were perfect for my liking. I marvel at the technology of this Serephimral generation and I am gracious it has been applied to make my life so much more comfortable." Lies, I don't dwell on such meager thank you's nor do I marvel at anything anymore after what I have seen. I refocus my now attempting- to- drown- space blue eyes. "I have been given such extravagant comforts, the softest materials, the way they cloak me in a soft, warm furry material. The way the silk glides on my arms as I cover up, it sends soft calming chills throughout me. I have been so very favored to live the way that I do. I get to smell whatever I want; in fact, I think I want to smell the mint grown on the far planet KettzKaa today, maybe with a soft hint of the liloflower's clean smell mixed in. I may perforate the entire house with this today. My health is ideal at this time, no virus for over two years, no lack of sleep, I am ideal for mortal. I even found that I rest better here on Roaga, maybe that is because I am in the utmost safety of the space's best guardian, Caveronne. What lady would not sleep better with the watchful Caveronne in the nearby rooms? As always, thank you all for my life, and the wonderful dreams I owe to you all, and good suns and moons to you all." Thank the spirals that is over.
Find my voice. Well, when I do I hope it doesn't sound anything like the one I have to use for announcements. I have all these emotions, ones that were wiped out of humans with evolution into the Serephimral being. Imagine waking everyday to things like pain, happiness from a dream, anger from memories that do not belong to me, and so many other things. The worst thing, the one that I hear about and legends build on, I have never ever experienced. I may only live one lifetime, and in that lifetime, I may never know love.
"Time to get you recleaned for the exploration of Roaga today." Caveronne enters and interrupts.