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 Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2015 8:42 pm
Backdated to July 2015, taking place immediately following this.
A fiercely cold wind blew across the frozen plains, flinging snow into Nazca's eyes. Not that it mattered; even if he was able to see what had happened, there was no way he would be able to believe it.
One moment, Kent had been lying in bed, thinking about the possibilities open to him. The next, Nazca was lying on what felt like a block of ice, a very different book by his side. The bitter cold cut through his every layer of the thick uniform he'd come to hate in the warm summer months, making him shiver uncontrollably. Trying to push himself upright made his bare hand burn from the cold; he yanked it back hurriedly and shoved it into his pocket as soon as he was on his feet.
"There is no ******** way this can be Mercury," he muttered, wiping his face until the landscape became visible. It took a few moments for him to realize it already was: nothing but snow and ice, for as far as the eye could see. “I mean, Mercury has a surface temperature of what, like eight hundred degrees?” The things one learned, when they lived with a space fanatic. “I know it gets crazy cold at night, but all of this is just not possible.” He remembered something else, and looked up. “And there’s barely any atmosphere, so how am I even breathing?”
This had to be some kind of dream. Except it was really, really cold for a dream.
Maybe, if he shut his eyes, all of this would go away. He would be Kent again, lying in bed, laughing at himself for having an overactive imagination. It was worth a try, at least. All he had to do was think about life as it really was, without crazy powers and impromptu space voyages.
Suddenly it was a lot colder. Teeth chattering, he opened his eyes to find he was indeed Kent again, but far from his bed. The wind, which he could feel keenly even through his uniform, tore through his silk pajamas as if they weren’t there. His socks did almost nothing to protect his feet from the ice below, and for a moment he thought he was going to faint from the sudden drop in temperature. “********, bad idea. Okay okay, I’m Nazca, I get it, can I have my clothes back now?”
Nothing happened. He rubbed his hands over his arms in a desperate attempt to stay warm and looked around for someplace to get out of the cold. Most of what he could see was pure white, but there, in the distance, a dark shape. Was it a building, or just a shadow? Whatever it was, it was something to aim for. Kent tried to take a step, only to find his sock frozen to the ice. “********. Okay, I’m being a good little whatever I’m supposed to be. Gonna take a look around. Can I please have my clothes back now?”
Still nothing. A sharp gust of wind almost knocked Kent over, and he began to wonder if he was going to die on some far-off planet, without anyone knowing what had happened to him. What would his parents think? What would happen to Tara, if he wasn’t there to look out for her?
That thought gave him a little strength. Enough to pull his leg out of the sock and take that first step. He’d thought that the ground couldn’t really feel any colder to a bare foot than to one wearing nothing but a sock, but it did, sending stabbing pains right up his leg. Doing his best to ignore them, he pulled his other foot out of its sock and took another step, and then another. Then he looked up towards the dark shape on the horizon, and was dismayed to see that it looked just as far off as it had before.
How long did he have before hypothermia set in? How long could he last out here, with no cover?
He had to keep moving, or his feet would stick to the ice next, and then he’d really be screwed. As it was, he was probably going to end up with frostbite. “And won’t I look ridiculous, showing up at the hospital with frostbite in the middle of July?” Which was still preferable to dying of exposure where no one knew to look for him, assuming they even could. He had to operate like there was something beyond this harrowing experience, or he might as well lay down and wait for the snow to bury him.
No, he had to keep going. And not just for his parents, not just for his sister. Because he wasn’t ready to give up. He hadn’t given up on Tara, and he wasn’t giving up on himself either.
His foot came down again, but he couldn’t feel the ice. Were his feet numb from the cold? He looked down, expecting to see blue toes or worse. Instead, he found sturdy boots with thick treads, perfect for slippery terrain. A book with a leather cover was tucked under his arm. The rest of the costume looked weird, but it was gloriously warm- at least, in comparison to silk pajamas- and that was all Nazca really cared about right then.
“Thank god,” he muttered, zipping his jacket up as quickly as he could and shoving his hands back in its pockets. “Thank Mercury. Thank whoever.” Maybe now he had a real shot at survival. Funny, how it felt like he’d been freezing out there for hours, even though he knew it was more like ten minutes, if that. He could probably skip the uncomfortable hospital visit where he explained how he came close to freezing in the middle of the summer. But the situation was still bleak; he had little idea where he was or how he got there, and no feasible way of getting home. He thought about it for a few minutes, trying to come up with a plan without doing anything that would change him back to Kent. It was almost impossible to think under those restrictions, especially when he had no idea what would set off the change, and he wasn’t surprised when nothing came to him.
The dark shape still loomed on the horizon. With no better ideas, Nazca pulled his jacket in even tighter and set off again, trying to revel in his relief that, in spite of doing something very stupid, he was still alive. For the moment, at least.
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Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2015 8:43 pm
For a long time, or what felt like one, the smudge in the distance remained just that. It didn’t seem to grow, or get any closer, and Nazca began to wonder if he was just chasing a shadow. If there wasn’t any shelter nearby, and he couldn’t get back home, it was only a matter of time before he froze to death. The uniform helped, but it wouldn’t stave off frostbite and hypothermia forever.
The edges of the shadow grew darker, more distinct. At first, he thought he was imagining it, looking for comforting images when he was on the brink of death. But no, that was definitely a rectangle. Encouraged, Nazca put on speed, walking as quickly as he could without endangering himself. His feet weren’t burning anymore, but they still felt stiff and awkward, and if he slipped and cracked his head open on the ice, he’d die anyway.
“Okay, stop it,” he scolded himself. “Thinking about all the ways you could die out here is not helpful. You’ve only been out here for what, half an hour? So get over yourself and keep moving. That’s the best thing you can do right now.”
It was a rational argument. Unfortunately, it did nothing to ease his irrational fear that he’d screwed up so badly he was about to die.
What an idiot he was, trying to remember the magic words for space travel without being prepared for the result. Not that he expected anything Kent Kavanaugh said to work, and Nazca wasn’t supposed to be in the equation right then. “No,” he corrected himself angrily, “you didn’t expect it to work at all. Even after what Laney told you, even after what Pharos did, even after promising to be ******** open minded about this, you still didn’t expect it to work.” How many times would he have to fall into that trap before he finally learned his lesson?
Would he even have a chance to learn his lesson, or was he going to die before he got the chance?
Why did he keep thinking that he was on death’s door?
“You know what your problem is,” he told himself, mostly to get away from thoughts of his possibly imminent demise. “It’s not that you don’t believe in magic at all.” Yes, it went against everything he’d been taught, but he’d seen enough of it for himself to know that it was real. Even he could change his mind, when faced with overwhelming proof. “The real problem’s that you don’t believe you can do it.”
And he stopped in his tracks, stunned by what had just come out of his mouth. He’d thought it nothing but the fevered ramblings of a man about to die. And maybe it was, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be true.
Tara had always been the special one. The one who believed anything and everything was possible. The one he believed would take the world by storm. His dreams were much smaller, much more rooted in reality, or so he told himself. Not everyone had it in them to change how people looked at the world. Tara was the one with the power and the drive to make everyone see things differently. Not that he didn’t want to help people, but he never thought about making a difference on that scale.
It was the same with this whole magic business, he realized. It was all her- she’d been involved with it so much longer, she had power he could only imagine. He had only gotten involved to look for her, and he’d only gotten as far as he had with help. If it wasn’t for Noah and Laney and Pharos, he never would have made as much progress as he had. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to find Tara, and he wouldn’t have been able to bring her home. He was fine believing that they had magic, but he couldn’t quite think that about himself.
The cold slammed into him like a wall, and the pain began lancing up through the soles of his feet again. Kent screamed and started to run, rubbing his arms with his hands again. “Damn it, stop already!” Nothing happened, except that he started to skid on the ice. He could see the dark shape coming closer, finally, but it was still a ways away. Would he make it before he froze solid?
“I know I have magic, or I wouldn’t be here in the first place, right?” Nothing. He was starting to get angry with this whole situation, his fury driving off the worst of the cold, giving him a minor boost to his speed as he slipped and stumbled towards the building. “I know there’s something I’m supposed to be doing, and I’m probably here to find out what the ******** it is, but I won’t be able to do anything if I die before I figure it out!”
He could see it clearly now, even through the snow: a low, long building made of dark gray stone. It didn’t seem to have any entrances, which made his panic level rise a few more notches. His feet started to itch as well as burn, and he stumbled over them as his toes began to go numb. This building- if it was one, and not an oversized cinderblock- was probably his only hope, provided he could make it that far.
“I know… I know I can’t leave this to anyone else. Noah warned me that this is for life, and I accepted that.” Though if Noah knew that accepting magic involved a survivalist nightmare, Kent was going to chew him out big time. If they ever saw each other again. If he ever saw anyone again. Desperation made him go even faster, though he could feel his strength flagging as he ran. “I’m not trying to get out of anything, I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing!”
The stone of the building was cold and unyielding under his palms. Not that he really expected anything else, but the fact that shelter was so near and yet so far was maddening. Keeping one hand on it, he began to walk unsteadily around the perimeter, hoping to find a way inside. If there was a door, it was well hidden. He couldn’t feel any cracks in the stone, no bulges or indentations. It felt almost as smooth as the ice, and almost as cold.
Kent punched the stone, even though he knew it was a terrible idea. He could feel something crack in his fingers, and he screamed again, in rage as well as pain. Though he couldn’t say why, he knew this place was the answer. Why would it drag him all this way, just to deny him entry?
“I’m here, you stupid place! I’m taking responsibility for the choices I’ve made! If I’m Nazca, then let me be Nazca, and let me do whatever the hell I came here to do!”
He could feel pins and needles in his feet as they were protected from the surface of the ice. His sleeve, now white, almost blended in with the snow around him. The ring he wore, made of the same dark stone as the building, flashed. Blue light raced around the wall, tracing a rectangle in front of him. The space inside the rectangle vanished. With no wall there to hold him up, Nazca fell inside, too tired to realize what had just happened.
The wall closed again. Within minutes, the snow had covered his footprints, removing any sign that he had ever been there.
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Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2015 8:44 pm
Nazca awoke in pain, as his frozen fingers and toes began to thaw. Which sucked, but it beat the hell out of not waking up at all, which was what he was expecting. To wake up dead, more or less.
He sat up slowly, stiffly, trying not to wrench any muscles. The light in the room was dim, barely more than a blue glow. Part of it came from his book, which was lying open next to him, its strange language serving as a sort of nightlight. Leaning over, he used the glow to examine his fingers. They were red and tingly, and hurt when he moved them, but it wasn’t unbearable. The same could not be said of his feet; when he tried to stand, he gave a strangled scream and sat back down abruptly, giving himself a sore butt on top of everything else. Clearly, that wasn’t the way to approach this.
It was hard to get his boots off without moving his fingers too much. Easier than he’d expected, though. The laces he thought he remembered them having were gone, replaced by familiar sigils. All he had to do was slide them off like galoshes, as carefully as he could, and- “Yikes.”
The skin on his toes was freezing, even to his cold hands. It was much redder too, and felt sort of waxy to the touch. “That can’t be good,” he muttered, massaging the tips of his toes gently. It hurt, but he hoped it was the good sort of hurt that meant his blood vessels were still working.
While he worked on warming his feet, he started to look around the room. The blue glow from his book was echoed by buttons on the walls nearby, flashing in patterns that he couldn’t quite discern. Glassy-looking panels reflected the lights back at him, making him dizzy. After a few moments of that, he returned his attention to his feet, rubbing them until he felt like he could stand without falling over.
Finally, he could survey his domain, holding his book out in front of him like a flashlight. A long room full of glass and keyboards, with a large table in the center. He could see an archway across from him, which probably led to another room. Hopefully a room with answers, since this one didn’t seem to have anything to tell him. Shuffling along as slowly as he could manage, he put one hand on the table to steady himself.
His ring flashed again, the light rippling across the surface of the table. Then the whole thing lit up, first with the Mercury symbol, so familiar from his uniform, and then with something completely different. A topographical map, from the look of it, overlaid with a grid. There was a box on the side filled with more of the writing he couldn’t read. He glanced at his book, to try and make some sense of it, then shook his head. While some of the symbols were the same, that knowledge didn’t help him make heads or tails of the writing itself. All he could tell was that the book and the map were somehow related.
Deep in thought, he brushed his fingers against one of the words. It lit up, and the whole map changed. The lines indicating topography vanished, replaced by wide bands of color. Most of it was in shades of blue, but there was a fair amount of white, as well as some purple and aqua. “Climate?” he guessed aloud. “Or maybe a resource map? Heck, it could mean anything.” There was a key underneath the other box, but since the descriptions were written in the same incomprehensible language, it didn’t tell him anything.
After changing the view twice more, and seeing two more configurations that meant nothing to him, Nazca lost interest in the map. Another time, when he wasn’t recovering from a trek through a full-fledged blizzard in nothing but his pajamas, he’d have to take a good look at it, and everything else in the room. But he had a limited amount of energy, and wanted to find whatever he’d been dragged there to see before he passed out again.
The next room was lined with long tables against both walls. The one on the left was filled with jars, vials, and tubes, as well as glass piping that looked like something out of a mad scientist’s lab. The other side was covered with rocks, dirt, and pieces of what looked like ice. Nazca put his hand against one, mostly out of curiosity. It felt cold, but not freezing. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t important at that moment, so he kept walking, using the tables for support as he headed to the door at the other end.
He emerged in a room very similar to the first, enough that he looked behind him to make sure he hadn’t gotten turned around somehow. The light from the map table was dimly visible from his new position, while the table in the center of this room was covered with papers. He brushed a few of them aside and tapped the table, but nothing happened. Either his ring was broken, or it was just an ordinary table. The papers themselves were filled with more writing he couldn’t read, or drawings of things he didn’t recognize. Strange, squiggly shapes that struck him as slightly familiar. But why?
Something tugged at his memory, and he leafed through the papers again. There was a spiralling circle with tendrils sticking out, and one that looked like a pair of pitchforks. Then he turned one of the papers over, and there it was: wings, tail, a long beak. Clearly a bird of some sort. When he thought about it, he realized there were a few bird-like shapes drawn on the pages, and he knew he’d seen them somewhere before.
His eyes widened as the implications finally hit him. “Ah!” It was SO obvious, he once figured it out. “Nazca, as in the Nazca Lines.” He’d made that connection before, but hadn’t really thought anything of it. It was just a name, that was all. Unless it wasn’t. Unless the name meant more than he could have imagined.
“So am I in Peru?” Being in the Southern Hemisphere might account for why it was so cold- summer in Destiny City would be winter below the equator. But no, if the plains were subject to such severe weather, the Nazca Lines never would have lasted for as long as they did. Besides, wasn’t he supposed to be on Mercury? What could a bunch of geoglyphs in South America have to do with another planet?
Then he remembered something he’d heard in connection with the Nazca Lines, and he thought his eyes might fall out of their sockets. “No way… there is no way they were made by aliens.” It was way too early to be jumping to that conclusion. But he had to admit, if he really was on Mercury, and the papers he was looking at really were drawings of the lines, it might be a theory he’d have to seriously consider.
“This is trippy,” he muttered, putting the papers down. “And I still don’t know what I’m doing here. Is this what I was supposed to figure out?” But he was even more confused than he’d been before!
The next room looked much like the last, with floor-to-ceiling glass panels and a console of some sort in the corner, instead of a table in the middle of the floor. It was impossible to tell what any of these rooms were for, and Nazca was beginning to get frustrated. “Seriously, this is why I was brought here? To see a bunch of identical rooms and come up with totally insane hypotheses?”
Then again, totally insane hypotheses were what had gotten him this far. When he tried to use what he knew as a guide, it tended to get him in trouble. He offended people, he thought he was crazy, and he ended up next to naked on a frozen plateau. He kept trying the same thing, and getting upset when it didn’t work. Wasn’t that the definition of insanity?
He had promised Laney- promised himself- that he would stop calling himself crazy every time he found something he couldn’t understand. But this impromptu outing had found him falling into the same old pitfalls. He doubted his senses, his abilities, his knowledge. He’d almost died because he didn’t think he was capable of being where he was. That really was crazy, and he had to stop before he hurt himself, or worse, someone else.
It was, then, time to change things up. Time to turn his thinking around. And if it took a trip to another planet and a near-death experience to accomplish that, fine. It beat bashing his head against the same wall until he couldn’t think at all anymore. Maybe that was all he needed to get out of this- a new direction, a new vision. In some ways, that was what he’d been looking for all along.
“Okay, I get it.” That was only half true, but he was starting to think he was at least on the right track. “I’m not sure how things are going to work out just yet, but I’ll change it up, okay? I screwed up, I get it. And yeah, I’m still not sure what the hell I’m supposed to be doing, but I know I can figure it out, so just… trust me.” He didn’t know who he was talking to, not really, but that was important enough to say out loud. Somehow, that made the whole thing more real.
As he went into the next room, holding his book out in front of him, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the glassy panels. Most of it was what he expected: his hair was windblown, his cheeks were still red from the cold, and the fur collar of his jacket was soggy. But had his jacket always looked like that, with blue piping on the sleeves and around the shoulders?
Nazca of Mercury studied his reflection for a few moments. Then he shrugged again. This probably meant something, but he had no idea what. “I’ll figure it out,” he promised, even though he wasn’t quite sure who he was making the promise to. “Honest. But can I please go home now?”
The fact that he was still standing was a small miracle in itself. Now that he had an idea of what he was supposed to be doing, sort of, what he needed was to go home. He needed tea, and a warm blanket, and more than anything, a long rest. He could picture his room so clearly, from the blinds in his windows to the homemade computer at his tiny desk. He could feel the quilt under his bare, aching feet, soft and comfortable and warm…
When he looked down and saw his bed was actually there, he wanted to shout with relief. Instead, he let himself fall backwards, more than ready to sleep. Before his head hit the pillow, Nazca was gone, leaving a cold and exhausted Kent in his place, dead to the world, but, in spite of his ever-present fears, still very much alive.
(4259 words)
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