Chapter 1: Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten.

As far back as Walter could remember, he hated stillness. He didn't know if it was due to his oversensitivity, various mental disorders, or hidden brain damage; having to do nothing felt like he was leaving his senses open to an all-out assault. Sitting on the blue padded chair in a psychiatrist's waiting room, Walter tried to count the tiles on the ceiling to keep his mind occupied, but each time he counted the 274 visible tiles, he just counted them faster than the previous time. First, it took two minutes, then one minute, and now thirty seconds. It was becoming dull, and when things became dull, Walter's mind wandered. Despite being behind closed doors in different rooms throughout the building, Walter could hear other patients talking with their doctors. He tried his best to ignore them, knowing the subjects were private and sensitive, but without anything else to listen to, their voices were like booming echoes to Walter's ears.

There was a man hearing voices at night, a boy who felt helpless with his constant bullying, a woman who was depressed because her daughter ran away from home, and a girl who hadn't slept in days because she needed to get that perfect score in her history project- wait, Walter, knew this girl they went to the same high school together!

Walter covered his pointy ears and fought the urge to run out of the building as he looked for something else to occupy his mind. His eyes turned to a tessterra. It was the most common, four-winged insect found on Malcula, but Walter needed something to look at, so this would have to do. It hovered back and forth, dodging the dust particles that drifted in the air as it tried to decide what scent to follow. Would it go to the rotting orange in the trash bin downstairs, the ham and mayo sandwich left out in the staff room, or the molding leftover cake in the dumpster outside? At some point, the tessterra turned and faced Walter. He wondered if the tiny creature could see or comprehend the comparatively massive Walter with those compound eyes. The tessterra rested on a desk, rubbing its legs as it tried to gather more information about the alien world it found itself in when a folded newspaper came crashing down on it.

Tessterras were pests, living for only 25 days and having hundreds of offspring, but Walter felt as if he had just watched a beloved family pet get flattened. He didn't just feel the pain, confusion, and fear from the animal in its last moments of life, but the flickers of life from the eggs it was carrying inside it snuffed out as well. Tears rolled out of Walter's eyes, and he struggled to catch his breath.

"Walter Alfredson," the person who crushed the tessterra said. She spoke slowly, like everyone else Walter knew, but his attention was now solely on her since she said his name. He waited for her to finish her sentence.

"Doctor Rains will see you now,"

The tears stopped, and Walter stood up like nothing had happened. He concentrated on walking as slowly as he could, as he had a tendency to run all the time. All that crossed his mind was if this doctor would be the one to make him think like a normal human. In what seemed like an instant, Walter was sitting on a padded chair with a tall man with a full beard and carved-out cheeks across from him. Walter knew he had walked to this room but couldn't recall the uneventful moments between. He would have made a bigger deal out of it if it wasn't such a regular occurrence.

"Hello there, Walter. How are you feeling today?"

"Happy," Walter said with a shrug. "Graduated from high school last week. I'm going to a New Year's party tonight, and I've got 14 different college offerings with full scholarships."

"Do you get invitations often?" Dr. Rains asked.

"Yeah, but…I get overwhelmed in large crowds."

Dr. Rains paused to look down at their clipboard and flipped through several pages of medical records and notes. Walter waited for what seemed like a full minute before the psychiatrist responded. "Most people who come here are struggling, but you've been excelling, apart from your social anxiety. What's been working so far?"

"Nothing," Walter answered. "I don't feel like I've earned any of those achievements. Sure, I do well in tests, but it's all basic memory. I score the most points in every game I play, but it's like I see everyone else in slow motion. Half the time, I don't even remember doing these things."

"And how does this make you feel, Walter?"

"Unsatisfied, confused, sometimes scared." Walter tapped his fingers as he took a deep breath. "It's not like I don't care. It's actually the opposite. I spent days preparing my graduation speech, but looking back, I don't remember a single word I wrote or a sentence I spoke. I just remember walking back to my chair, feeling proud of something I did, but it passed so fast. My swim coach said I've broken every high school record he can think of, but I don't even remember getting in the pool. My muscles weren't even sore, and I was still able to do all my chores on the farm. I shouldn't feel this way."

"It's quite common for people suffering from amnesia to have trouble recalling new information. However, it could also be a side effect of your medication. Those, in addition to your conditions, could contribute to your hyperfixation and loss of focus, which you attribute to memory loss. Speaking of which, let's go back to your amnesia. Your previous doctors wrote that you still don't remember anything from before that night?"

"Yes, well... that's not quite right." Walter rubbed his temple as his mind tore itself apart, gathering loose images. "Everything before the crash is like a blur. Sometimes, I think I remember seeing people like me. Tall, slender, and pale. We're walking through a city of ivory spires and castles. Other times, I see stars and planets. It feels like I'm floating in space."

"It's not unheard of for amnesia patients to invent made-up memories, but I do hope you know these are just fantasies your mind is creating. Likely mixing up random details in your life."

"Like what?" Walter asked.

"Well, you were adopted as a teenager, no less after a plane crash. That kind of trauma weighs heavily on the mind. You've grown up not knowing your biological family and no one else with your peculiar ears. The people from your false memories are your mind creating people you can relate to. As for the castles and fancy spires, you live on a farm and haven't traveled before. Your mind is looking for excitement and wealth that is foreign to you."

"I..have visions of space. That could just be my mind telling me I want to travel?" Walter asked, trying to make sense of everything. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

"Of course. Even our best spaceships can get to Malcula's moon. Unless you believe in those ancient astronaut hogwash."

Walter chuckled but went silent as he rubbed his head. It was a crash, but there was more to it. He wanted to tell the psychiatrist more about it, but he couldn't—physically could not! Even if he could, his family decided not to tell anyone about it long ago.

Walter was driving a ship but couldn't remember what the controls looked like. It was like being surrounded by a white fog, and any time he tried to touch something, it made his mind feel like razors were digging into his scalp and burning him from the inside out. All the while, he felt like he was falling. Next, there was fire, then pain, and darkness. When Walter woke up, he was lying in a grass field, covered in dirt and soot. The pain in his body vanished, but he still had a headache. As he stood up, he looked behind him at the burning, unrecognizable wreck he was ejected from. To this day, Walter couldn't put together what it was. Was it a car? If so, then why was he so far from the road? Was it a plane? What was he doing flying a plane? He was just fifteen years old!

Just behind the flaming wreckage, a purple light flashed so brightly it made Walter's eyes burn. His headache grew, and his heart began beating so fast it felt like it was going to smash his ribs apart. A loud hissing noise came from the purple light, and when Walter looked back at it, the light was gone. In its place was a massive, purple, slender creature with four clawed bird-like legs, an ape-like torso, crustacean arms, a whip-like tail, and a narrow head sniffing the air. Just as the strange beast flicked out its long, slimy tongue, it turned and looked at Walter. Despite how illogical it was, Walter could sense that this monster hungered for him, so despite his injuries, Walter ran and could hear the beast clawing at the ground as it galloped after him.

He heard a wail. It was unlike anything he had ever heard, but when he heard it, he felt like puking and crying. The creature's wails overwhelmed his senses, and only sheer fear and adrenaline allowed Walter to stay awake and run until he reached a barn. What happened next was hazy, as Walter's mind was in shambles from the fear. All he knew was he managed to get into the barn and curled up in some corner of the hayloft. The wailing never stopped and only grew louder as the creature broke down the doors to the barn. Walter heard a cow let out an alarmed moo, followed by the poor animal crying in pain as the beast attacked it. The creature then began to change the tempo of its wails to go alongside the cries of the cow and the sound of its bones snapping and flesh tearing. Walter kept his eyes closed and covered his mouth, but it became too much, and he cried louder than the dying cow.

He expected the creature to jump up to the hayloft or tear down the barn to get its claws on Walter, but to his surprise, everything became silent. The scent of blood was still thick in the air, but he thought the creature might have left or at least had been distracted from eating the cow. He crawled from his hiding spot and looked below, only to see the blood-stained fiend glaring back at Walter with shimmering white eyes. It shot its tongue out at Walter and wrapped it around his neck. Bards emerged from the tongue and sunk into Walter's skin as the creature tried to pull him down. Walter grabbed the wooden planks until his fingers bled, choking as the fiend's grip tightened. Just as Walter was about to lose his grip, there came a roar of an engine. At that moment, a red combine harvester, driven by a slim, bald man, came barreling into the barn. The fiend let out one last wail before the combine's blades tore off its legs and began grinding the monster until it was nothing but purple mush.

Walter crawled back to his corner, frantically trying to wrestle the dead monster's tongue off his neck. He kicked it off the hayloft, hid behind a haystack, and stayed completely still. Walter had never seen a combine before and was afraid it was some terrible machine piloted by another monster that wanted to kill him. He could hear footsteps and the bald man's voice from his dark corner. Walter stayed silent but tried to think what he would do if the man came up. Would he run, fight, or hope this man would leave him be? For hours, nothing happened, and the adrenaline that had saved Walter had worn off, and he fainted.

When he woke, he crawled out of his spot to see somebody had set up a ladder from the hayloft to the bottom floor. Walter looked around, afraid someone or something was hiding from him and was about to attack. Once he realized he was alone, he decided to check on the harvester from the night before. The blades were chipped and broken, but there was no gore of the creature from last night, which was strange because the cow's blood still stained the floor and wall below. The scent of blood lingered, but the barn's musky draft carried a sweet aroma from outside.

Walter cautiously climbed down the ladder, checking his surroundings with every step. Once on the floor, he crept over the broken-down doors and followed the sweet smell. Waiting for him outside was a fold-up table with bacon, eggs, and flat cakes. Nearby, he heard shouting, which caused him to run back to the barn. Peeking outside, he saw the bald man who had driven the harvester from last night calling out to someone. Walter readied himself to run again until he saw a plump tan woman with thick glasses run up to the bald man. She grabbed him by the arm and waved at Walter while they walked away from the table. Walter would have waited for hours, but his hunger compelled him to leave the barn and take the food. However, he never took his eyes off the couple. As Walter ate, he listened to the two of them talk. Back then, they were like aliens to him, and even now, he couldn't believe they would feed him, invite them to their house, teach them their language, send him to school, and give him his name.

"Walter, you're not responding," Doctor Rains said for what could have been the hundredth time.

"I'm sorry, I was just…thinking," Walter answered.

"Was it about the plane crash?"

Walter nodded. That was close enough. He had tried to tell a previous psychologist about his actual past before, but he felt like he was transported back to that night and screamed as if that monster was strangling him again.

"You don't need to say anything you're not ready to share. This is a safe place, and we won't go over any triggers until you're comfortable taking the next step."

"I don't know what that next step looks like."

"Well, it's not the same for everyone. What's most important, however, is your quality of life. Would you say you are happy where you are right now?"

Walter took a long time to answer, which he felt was a tad ironic considering how slow everyone else seemed to him. He wasn't sure why he didn't answer immediately, but he could shake the feeling he was missing something.

"Yes."

"Do you feel comfortable attending the New Year's party? That day is one of your triggers."

"Yes," Walter said after hesitating. "I'll leave before the light show begins and get back home. This might be the last time I see some of my friends, so I have to be there at least for a little while."

Dr. Rains nodded and wrote some more notes. "I think this is an appropriate challenge to set yourself, but don't force yourself to stay if you're feeling unwell. I won't prescribe anything for today. You've got enough medication to keep track of as it is, and you've been doing an amazing job navigating life so far. We'll pick things up next week."

Once the meeting was over, Walter was back in the family car. He didn't remember walking through the building or passing anybody. He must have just been concentrating on getting here.

"How did you feel about this doctor, Walter dear?" the plump woman asked.

"He's kind, Ma, but he didn't tell me anything I didn't already know."

Sitting in the car's driver's seat, the bald man who had saved Walter all those years ago rubbed his head. "Joanne, I'm starting to think these quacks are just stalling for time and money. Walter is doing just fine doing his own thing."

"Jerry, if this helps Walter even just a tiny bit, then we'll visit every quack on Malcula. You do think this is helping, don't you, Walter?"

Walter looked out the window as they began to drive back home. His eyes fixed on the sky and stars hidden beyond the atmosphere. "Yeah. They help. Thanks for being frustrated with me, though, Pa."

Jerry laughed at this. "Somebody has, too."

Walter smiled and leaned back in his chair, despite it only making him more cramped, given his height. While he was disappointed Dr. Rains didn't make an effort to restore Walter's memories, he had given up hope on that a long time ago. Jerry and Joanne were kind people who would fight for and feed a stranger. They were his world, and he could live with that.