Chapter 1: Overture
There I was, undertaking an immense journey into the unfamiliar and unwelcoming environment, seeking for answers to the questions I never thought I, or any living being, would ask. The boat I was in was a fisherman's boat, and the crew were surprisingly cordial towards me, providing me accommodation for my journey. I spent all my time in their bedroom, the only one there is on their boat. The room was adequate, but certainly less comfortable than home.
The wooden walls certainly appeared deteriorated from use in these harsh conditions. There was a wooden bunk bed on the left side of the room, odor emerging from its green, rough cloth, undoubtedly from the fishermen's sweat. In the opposite corner, there was a crudely built wooden table, on which laid a map and a bottle of whiskey. The map of the Arctic was most likely older than me, but the frosty wasteland doesn't have much room for change, or rather, the place I'm venturing into almost certainly pertained its appearance since the map was made. Next to table on the right were two wooden barrels, and on the wall above hanged an ornament, a jaw of some marine beast they must've caught around these waters. On the same side of wall from left to right stood a wooden shelf with canned tomato soup, a rusty locker in which I put my belongings as a precaution, a red winter jacket and a green duffel bag. Next to the beds, on the opposite side of the locker was a rickety shelf, and in front of the beds lay a wooden chest.
As the last hour of my trip came, I made sure to properly sort and equip my belongings. There were several items I brought home with me. I hadn't brought any electronic devices such as my cellphone, knowing well that I was leaving civilization, and with it, I was vastly out of range of any conventional means of communicating with the outside world. My father sending me a letter of all things was proof enough for that. This notebook I trust will find useful for taking any notes, or at the very least, writing down thoughts that come to mind. I realized early that, whatever conflict would take refuge in my head, I find its solution much easier when looking at it daintily written on a piece of paper. But the notebook is only one of many things I brought along for the ride.
I knew that, wherever this station is, it is most likely underground, and as such, engulfed in darkness. Bringing a light source is, of course, the logical action anyone would take, and I had at least three different ones. My flashlight was the strongest source of light, and it's only natural for everyone in this age to reach out for their flashlight whenever they find themselves suddenly devoid of light. Unfortunately, I took mine for granted, and I somehow never got around to buying a new one. Despite my flashlight's clearly visible advantage compared to my other light sources, the thing was broken, and devoured the most durable of batteries like they were nothing. One quarter of an hour wouldn't make a great difference when it comes to a flashlight in a mint condition, but as far as my flashlight goes, the battery is depleted and needs to be replaced. In case I ran out of batteries, I prepared myself with a backup. The glowstick I brought may be only as half as illuminating as my flashlight, but at least it's virtually a ceaseless source of light. Its blue-green glow is also one of the things I secretly find appealing. I also brought a few red flares, in case I would rather want to see where I am going instead of taking a leap of faith. The duffel bag I mentioned earlier is going to come in handy carrying all of my stuff.
The twelve hours I was on the ship passed by quicker than I expected. Excitedly, I rushed out of my room and onto the ice, hastily and clumsily bid my farewell to the fishermen, not really paying attention to their words.
I regretted my haste a few minutes into my walk. I realized that I, despite having put on my green jacket on, I underestimated the frost. The fishermen were warning me about this as I left, mentioning I should put on the red jacket hanging in the room I was staying. That was foolish of me, and it came to bite me back viciously. A snowstorm materialized out of nowhere, dampening my vision and drenched me whole. I was at the mercy of the storm, my fur soaked with freezing water, my teeth grinding and chattering uncontrollably. I could only observe my heavy cold breaths going out of my nostrils and my wide open mouth. I struggled to breathe, and would periodically exhale so sharply my chest hurt like I was stabbed by a thousand needles from inside. The only thing I could do was distract myself from the cold, and so I started to gather all my suspicions and deductions I could from the facts I was given.
Why was I the one who received his letter? A long time ago, I would have thought he knew me as well as I knew him, which is, suffice to say, very little. I don't know why he never came back to me and my poor mother, though I don't get the impression he found either one of us to be a burden to him and his innovations, so I don't believe it to be an act of conscious malice. Still, I can't put my head around his current intentions. Was I really the first thing that came to his often absent mind when he needed assistance? What happened to all of his childhood friends that vanished as well? Were they also involved somehow in whatever my father was doing? Was that hedgehog, Sonic, with them? It would make sense, but why did he recently disappear when my father Miles was already gone for much longer? Did they know where he was all this time, or did they find that out in similar fashion as me? What did my father find in this place out of all things? Surely it had to be foundational, something that would completely change how we see the world. Nobody knew where he was for six years.
Did something happen here? Was there a reason why he wanted me to burn the documents? What should I expect when I arrive? After all of this, am I really going to find everything to be working perfectly? Am I going to find every single one of my father's friends unharmed and without any lurking suspicions in their minds. My guts may be just getting frozen out here, but as far as this goes, not only is something wrong there, it is as though nothing I find in here will be right.
My pondering suddenly ended when I tripped on something metallic. Looking down, a frozen mechanical hatch stood right below me. I let out a sigh of relief, glad that I was able to find a shelter at least. I tried to rotate the valve, but ice has gathered around the hatch and froze it shut. Luckily a glint of gray caught my eye. There were some rocks peeking out of many layers of snow. I used one to break the ice keeping the valve shut, and proceeded to open it. An iron ladder lead into the darkness, I couldn't see where the ladder ended, or rather, where it began. I wasn't about to stand and let the wind carry me away, so I quickly started climbing down the ladder.
My enthusiasm was my second mistake. The ladder was clearly corroded, and it broke off in the middle. It tumbled down on the floor, and so did I. I landed onto the rocky floor, the only thing that softened the fall was a thin layer of snow. I found myself in what appeared to be an abandoned mine. With a sore back, I looked up and concluded that I would not be leaving through this end. And so, the only course of action I can take is to venture deeper and hope for a way out.
From now on, I will proceed with caution.