El Baúl de los Sueños

Betrayed. That's how I felt. Betrayed by my own brain, who had started to eat itself. And the doctor's tranquil grin made it no easier to shake the feeling. -Hedion University is at the head of research into Kasioper's Syndrome right now thanks to the sponsorship of some very wealthy pod pilots that are affected by it. But you have to understand, it's a very rare disease, and thus investigation is progressing slowly.- Yes, I understood that, even before speaking to him. We all know what Kasioper is: the boogeyman, the monster under the bed, the end of all hope. Every person that became a pod pilot after age 30 had a small percentage of possibilities to be affected by it. Maybe one in a thousand, maybe less. And I had been the one to draw the long straw.

One came from the right and a burst made him explode in a smoke of red blood. The second was following him and tried to take cover behind a small barrier, but suffered the same fate. On the left, two targets took position behind a small wall, but a grenade from the grenade launcher took care of them. Barely five second had passed, according to his cybernetic clock.

I look at myself in the mirror, but can't recognize the image it brings back. Where I have long dark hair, I can only see the baldness of his skull; I have a well rounded beard, and yet his grin is barely covered by a two day lack of self-attention; if my eyes are dark and determined, his are icy blue and fully demented; he also lacks the tattoo in my face and my implants, his own hidden from sight inside his brain. And yet, he is my mirrored image.

This is the link to the forum thread where the "Who Am I?" story is being played. Being a collaborative effort among several players, Sepherim's part is only one of the voices, but it's an interesting different take on his story. And it's great to see so many players writing together a story that no one really knows where it's going as it unfolds.

The boarding bay was full of people and equipment going from one place to another, like a busy hive full of working ants. And, in the middle of all that, Trevor Humedd hugged his family as tightly as he could, like he wanted to take their breaths away. Tears flowed from their cheeks, golden drops in the dim lights of the station. Around them, two dozen families were going through the same ordeal of farewells, while the loading crew moved supply crates, machinery and weaponry ready in the last minute.

The two men sat before each other, silently, staring into the other's eyes with caution. None of them belonged in that run down orbital tavern, so people around them kept an eye on what they did, curious. One was clearly too rich to come to such a place: his belly was full, he had big double chin and enough fat in his face to partially hide his eyes. Though his clothes were common and unsurprising, on a close look they were clearly made exclusively for him by a personal tailor. He had a large cigarette in his left hand, one that puffed out small clouds of flavored smoke into the air around him. Vanilla maybe. His hair had once been black, but what was left of it was now mostly white, like a dove hanging over his head. His age surely showed he was a respectable man, probably some kind of politician or member of the Empire's employees. Though those never came down here.

The stars shone one last time in my eyes. The force of the solar winds pushed me and caressed me one last time. The strong pull of the thrusters, so intimately controlled and known that they seemed like my own legs, directed me to the Amarr station where I would dock for the last time. As the docking procedures advanced, I couldn't help but recall all that had happened in this three long years. The found, the lost, the friends, the enemies. The success. The failure. The Ordo and the Brothers and Sisters in it.

Accessing video feed from the internal servers of the Theology Council... File 213697 located: declarations on the sainthood of St. Kierandross... Choosing Main Session: 23rd of August, year 23013... Opening file...

They say that, at the Beginning of Time, God was alone in the emptiness of space. Alone and solitary, without light, sound, joy or fear. Empty, even though he was full. He was the whole potential, but no reality, a list of possibilities yet to define. hey say he created the universe, and istory started, so far away from the Eve Cluster that it's almost inimaginable. What the legend doesn't say is How he did it.

The small man had approached Sepherim as he walked in the market, looking at the multiple objects in it and hearing his usual news feeds from the comm unit. Marbius Ardishapur. That was his name, and he was an influential member inside the imperial Academy, with both ties to the Emperor Family and the Ardishapur Family. An important political pilot, and rumours pointed to something deeper even. He handed Sepherim a small datanote and headed back into the crowd.

The electric light was a cold and pale blue, making the room look like a freezer. The holo units displayed layer after layer of information on so many topics that they were nearly impossible to track. Papers, yes old fashioned papers, were splashed all across the place, over the metalic table and the electronic elements on it. Pens, pencils, wordcutters, all were sprayed around like if a maddened hurricane had wrecked havok in the place. The green screens of computers flickered and changed, showing eternal lists of names and status reports from all over the Empire. The only movement in the room was that of a small hamster, running in circles in his cage near the naked cement walls.

The quick and vibrant rhythm of the music that filled the cabin competed with the low-level hum of the mining laser on the exterior. The ship was an ancient Miracle Frigate, already out of production lines, and it was indeed a miracle that it stayed together… though that meant that the whole structure vibrated softly with the working of the laser, like a broken cradle or a wrong-attuned massage chair. The only room in the ship, the cabin, had just been repaired, and still smelled greatly of the oils employed on all the junctures to try to make them move smoothly; which had failed completely.

A dim light entered through the long stained-glass windows that lined on both sides of the stone walls; but what truly lit the cathedral were thousands of small candles, placed everywhere between the stone pillars that rose so many feet, and the wooden seats that seemed to march row after row. The air was dense, full of the high and beautiful the incense tray expelled, and the human’s low and horrid body smell. A small buzz filled the place, hundreds of words softly and fervently spoken by the few gathered so late in the afternoon.

There is blood on my hands. Literally. Dark red blood, warm and dense. I had never thought it would be like this. I stare dumb at it, at how it flows in my hands, how it feels, how it reflects the pale-dim light. And slowly, I start to loose the senses. My blood. My precious blood.

I have seen people Fall. From the mightiest heights, they fell so hard that the ground shook with their impact. Priests, Holders, peasants... all corrupted by the stentch of foulness. I have seen them wrestle against it, only to fall in the end, incapable of resisting the pressure. Even the most pure and bright, the lights that guide us all here, Fall into the Darkness. Why, my Lord, why?

Another boring day, deep in the emptiness of nowhere. The metallic hallways open before me as every day before, the frosty light continues to rain over all of us like every day before, the hum of the air conditioning fills the air like every other day before... Ah, the fabulous life aboard a spaceship!

The moonlight bathed the peaceful park. The man stood between two big Darkwood trees, shading him from much of the silver light, which in turn glimmered in the small waves of the lake. He was turning his back against the world, shielding himself in his inner thoughts. Troubled thoughts.