1. Awakenings
First, there was nothing, which can never be experienced, and is therefore impossible to describe.
This probably went on for some time, but it’s almost impossible to know for how long.
Then darkness filled the void, growing and spreading like an inky black canvas onto which anything can be painted, absolutely anything at all.
Meanwhile a sound grew gradually more distinct, the pitter-patter of light rain falling onto a tin roof.
Foon slowly began to awaken. During this long and gradual process, his subconscious cherished both the darkness and the sound, and the accompanying lack of concern, or sense of purpose. He lay there inanimate and unaware for an indeterminable period, his psyche wallowing in the reassuring warmth of oblivion. He existed only as an ethereal, fully immaterial being, one which could only possibly reside in such a dark void, shielded from possible intrusion by firmly closed eyes, and a blissful lack of physical or spatial awareness.
Eventually, consciousness did arrive, returning from wherever it goes to when unneeded, and gently but persistently knocked on the door of awareness. After being ignored for a while, it became impatient, and so began to trickle and then flow under that same door. His mind was now like a metaphysical pot, one that was gradually being filled with the unwanted stew of sentience. This threatened to eventually expose all the various details of his physical reality, which could come flooding back uncontrollably at any time.
This seemingly inevitable flood of realisation, although darkly anticipated somewhere down in the recesses of his subconcious, did not arrive. However, in its place, a cloud of confusion and uncertainty formed and spread, lacking any tangible shapes which could be discerned or otherwise focused upon. Curiosity inevitably and invasively took shape however, and questions began to form which naggingly needed answers. He slowly opened his eyes, willingly exposing himself to cold reality, and whatever dreaded baggage that may bring.
Awake, and with eyes now half-open, the ceiling swam into focus. After laying there and looking up at it for a while, he turned onto his side and supported his upper torso with one arm. He blearily took in his surroundings. They seemed familiar at least.
He was lying on a simple cot with a rudimentary, but acceptably comfortable pillow, and he was partly covered by a thin woollen blanket. The bed was placed up against a wooden wall inside a very modest square room, exclusively constructed using very tightly-fitting sturdy wooden planks. Although it all looked quite well built, it was very sparsely furnished, and starkly utilitarian. The roof was made of plain, lightly coated thin sheets of metal, and the interior ceiling this provided was completely unadorned. Against the opposite wall, stood a small wooden table with various knick-knacks carelessly scattered upon it, and beside the table, on the floor, leaned a simple backpack, made of sturdy canvas and secured by buckled straps. Nearby, on a hook on the same wall, hung a slightly worn green raincoat, quite long and with a more than adequate hood attached.
He sat up in his cot and planted his feet on the floor, and stared at the slightly dusty wooden boards for a while, dreamily examining the grain of the wood, and its various knots and features. Next to the bed stood a simple pair of well-made boots, which also looked well-used, but comfortable. He now fixed his stare on them instead. He was perhaps waiting for some, or any, form of enlightenment, but it was not forthcoming. A dense fog of confusion filled his mind, and did not allow for moments of clarity, it seemed. He combed the fingers of one hand through tousled brown hair, and decided that affirmative action was the only way forward, and perhaps the only way to reliably provide answers to all the growing uncertainties.
He was already dressed, so he carefully pulled on his boots, which were damp and lightly caked with mud on the outside, but quite warm and dry on the inside. The interior of the hut was also quite warm, although there was no apparent source of heat anywhere to be seen. He stood up too quickly, and immediately felt dizzy, so quickly sat down again. After allowing his head to clear, and the feeling to pass, he stood up again, more carefully this time, and approached the small wooden table which stood against the opposite wall. On it lay an eclectic selection of items; a short knife with a long round wooden handle, a loosely coiled length of wire, a sheet of paper folded several times, a small handful of perfectly spherical shiny metal balls which seemed to be attracted to one another, a few large red pine cones, a flat wooden amulet shaped like a bee, a slightly stained tall narrow cup half-filled with clear water, and a pair of broken spectacles.
He picked up the cup and sniffed the water, then took a small sip. It tasted fresh enough, so he swallowed some more, slaking a thirst he didn’t realise he had. He picked up and unfolded the paper, which revealed randomly arranged inked symbols and scribbled texts, but he understood none of it, and after a short while, folded it again and put it back down on the table.
He went over to the hook on the wall, lifted off the long raincoat, and began to put it on. It fitted perfectly, and felt comfortable and familiar. He looked down at the backpack, and gathered it up and opened it, by unbuckling the straps on the front. It was completely empty, but quite spacious inside, and it looked useful. He buckled it again, and put it on over his raincoat, and it also felt instantly familiar to wear, the supporting straps perfectly adjusted to fit his frame. Turning to leave, he walked the short distance to the door and opened it, stepping outside. Feeling the raindrops on his face, he raised his hood, and the sound of the rain immediately became more amplified and intimate, as it gently battered off the smooth, waterproof material that covered his head.
The small construction he had just exited was situated on a gentle, elevated slope, which gave a good overview of the situation further below. There was a small outhouse located nearby, which was also quite well constructed, and presumably built by the same builder. A rain barrel stood next to the hut, which was gently overflowing. Leading further up the slope was a narrow rocky path, which led to some unknown destination that currently lay out of sight over the brow of the hill.
He looked down and saw a small town (or large village) in the overcast grey light, which was mostly a very loose scattering of buildings that surrounded a much more dense central area. Many of the buildings were of very odd design, and completely non-uniform, and were somehow confusing to look at, especially all at once. The village itself was located on a vast, flat, kidney shaped, unnatural looking flat plain, which protruded from, and closely hugged, the steep side of a tall mountain, which loomed overhead directly to the north. In the distance in the other direction, lay the outer edge of the plain, which suddenly dropped into a steep slope, and was therefore carefully lined by a sturdy, tightly-boarded red wooden fence, presumably to prevent anyone from accidentally falling to their doom. Much further below that unfolded a vast, dense forest comprising of various types of huge trees, which spread out seemingly without end into the mist.
There didn’t seem to be anybody around, at least not nearby, and apart from an almost imperceptable rhythmic low hum, which was coming from some unknown direction off in the distance (and the sound of the rain on his hood of course), things seemed quiet and peaceful. He suddenly felt his stomach rumble, which gave him an immediate sense of purpose, so he looked instinctively down towards a nearby long, low building at the bottom of the slope where the town began. It had bulging walls, a rounded off thatched roof, and many circular windows along its length. Deciding that this was the most likely place to find answers, or sustenance, he began to traipse down a well-trodden path which led towards this destination, thus embarking on a short and uneventful journey.
Upon arriving, he approached the unlikely carbuncle of a building, and opened the flush bowed oval door using its ring shaped handle, and stepped inside.
In here it was also warm, and once again without an obvious heat-source, and a very long dense sturdy wooden table with matching equally solid chairs stretched out along the centre of the room on a reddish stone floor. Some light shone through the many circular windows, but the environment was otherwise illuminated by several bright orbs which hung suspended from the ceiling, and which provided a warm, steady glow. There were a few wooden counter tops and tall or short cabinets lining the walls, but little adornment or decoration had been indulged in otherwise; the place was more functional than decarative.
At the far end of the elongated room, a slightly plump but well-postured woman with her jet-black hair in a loose bun, busily tended to a large black iron stove with many pots of varying sizes bubbling or simmering upon it. The resulting aromas were irresistible, and he felt the pangs of hunger growing and becoming more urgent. The woman abruptly stopped what she was doing, turned around, placed her hands on her hips, and regarded him with an inquisitive, slightly concerned gaze.
“You’re here. All the others left a while ago, but then again, they know what times food is served, and they surely all have a very busy day ahead of them, as will you, I suspect. Sit down if you’re hungry.”
Foon nodded, understanding what had been said, but having no words of his own to offer. She nodded once in response, and turned back to the pots. She continued selectively stirring them, suddenly swapping two of them around, and tasting the contents. He walked towards the far end of the table, near to the end wall where the stove was located, and pulled out a chair, then sat down and eagerly awaited whatever was on its way. The woman deftly filled a nearby wooden bowl with carefully selected delicacies from various pots on the stove, and retrieved a metal spoon from the drawer of a large cabinet that stood adjacent. She placed them before him, giving him a curt nod before returning to her work.
Foon dug eagerly into the bowl, but was slowed down considerably by the steaming hot contents. The food was simply wonderful though, a flowering of flavours and tangy tastes, and he eventually ate every morsel. He then leaned back in his chair, now finding relief in the satisfaction that only a full stomach can bring. The woman approached him again, and swiftly retrieved the now empty bowl and accompanying spoon, and dropped them somewhat haphazardly into a large, fat, shiny metal cylinder which was located against the wall behind him, and closed its thick lid. Strange whooshing and gurgling noises started emanating from it shortly after.
He realised that he didn’t know her name, although she seemed familiar, but suddenly, on cue, it popped into his mind, and he felt like he had known it all along; “Lora”. He sat for a while and digested his meal, looking out of a rain spattered round window directly across from him, and wondering what he should do next. He glanced expectantly over to Lora, who seemed to be instantly aware of this unseen attention, because she turned from the stove again, and stood staring at him with hands on hips again, and a slightly furrowed brow.
“Go and visit Arkit, he’s bound to have things for you to do. If you bump into Simon on your travels, give him this.”
She bent down and pulled out a small package from a niche somewhere in the body of the stove, and handed it to him. It was neatly wrapped in shiny brown paper and was quite warm, but gave off no scent to hint at its contents. Foon took the package, placed it into his backpack, and stood up and put it back on again. He wanted to thank Lora for the meal, but was again lost for words. He nodded towards her, to at least show that he had understood her instructions, and turned around and headed towards the exit. On his way there, he heard her say something further.
“Don’t open it, just hand it to him. He’ll know what it is.”
Foon turned to show acknowledgement, but she was already busy again with her pots. He left through the door, closing it behind him, and once again heard the pitter-patter of rain against his hood.
He ambled along a more substantial cobbled stone path that led towards the main village. He eventually entered a quite narrow, gently winding, but unruly street of buildings (perhaps houses), which were much more similar to one another than the others he had seen in the distance up on the slope, but still of very unusual design. They looked somewhat like tall, top heavy round wooden barrels, with narrow pill-shaped windows located in a seemingly random arrangement around their walls. The buildings had ribbed, green metal domed roofs, each with a thin central spire, constructed using the same type of metal.
A young man and woman stood outside the entrance of one of the buildings, needing no raincoats, because they stood directly underneath a round green awning that was attached to the front of the building by a single pole, which jutted out directly above the arched entrance. This kept them both perfectly dry, but mysteriously, no water dripped from the edges of the awning, despite the constant rain. They both wore neatly tailored light brown clothes, much finer in appearance than Foon’s own, graments which were obviously created by some artisan of great skill.
They were conversing with one another quite enthusiastically, and taking turns to point at a nearby irregularly shaped garden, which was formed to fit neatly between this, and the neighbouring building. It was populated by various unidentifiable, but seemingly healthy crops. It was completely covered by a perfectly contoured, highly transparent, low bubble, which was made of some unknown material, and upon which the raindrops didn’t seem to settle at all. When he got closer to the two, they both stopped talking and looked over at him, carefully watching his approach. They didn’t look to be in the mood for small talk (which he seemed to be incapable of anyway), so he walked past them and they quickly resumed their animated dialogue again shortly after.
He walked further down the street, and many strange but similar buildings later, it opened up to reveal a modestly sized, but neatly paved round plaza, circled at the perimeter by alternating thin trees and short wooden benches. At the centre of the plaza, was a very tall, thick, shiny metal pole, which rose vertically out of a very broad, flat, perfectly circular solid stone plinth. This plinth was surrounded by identical embedded dull metallic stones, spaced at even intervals, like the hour indicators on a clock face.
Suddenly, a bright unruly arc of electricity flashed violently and loudly between one of the dark stones and an erratically shifting point on the central mast. Foon froze instantly, fully fixated on the area where it had occurred. He waited for a while in anticipation, staring wide eyed at the stones and the pole, but no further events were forthcoming, for now. He waited for a while longer, and eventually, another arc did materialise, from a different stone this time, but it was much less violent; weaker and more short-lived. For some reason, he found himself to be fascinated by this turn of events, but eventually grudgingly turned away, and continued on his journey across the plaza to see Arkit.
From a wider street at the opposite side of the plaza, a man emerged, wearing a thigh-length dull red raincoat with the hood impractically lowered, green shorts, and carrying several long, thick, and heavy looking beams of dense dark wood on one shoulder, bound together by several sturdy straps. The man strode confidently on thick bare legs, and was seemingly unaffected by the load he bore. He was quite tall, and looked strong and capable, he would have to be to carry all of that wood at once. His skin and short cropped hair were both very dark, but his eyes were a vivid bright green, and he looked directly at Foon before strolling across the plaza towards him, then stopping just before him, before giving a knowing look and a subtle smile. Once again a name flashed in Foon’s mind; “Simon”.
“Hello Foon,” he said, his face forming friendly creases. “You off to see Arkit?”
Foon nodded, and then remembered the package he carried with him. He removed and opened his backpack, took out the package, and offered it to Simon. It was still warm.
“Thank you,” said Simon, taking the mysterious item without question with his free hand, and carefully putting it into a large pocket in the side of his raincoat. “You’d better hurry on over there, the morning is almost done, and he will surely be even more prickly than usual, if that’s possible!”
He rolled his eyes, then smiled warmly, and patted Foon’s shoulder with his free hand, then continued on his way, amazingly still showing no signs of fatigue.
Foon closed his backpack and put it back on, before heading towards the exact street where Simon had come from. It was quite straight and neatly paved, but the buildings were now of highly irregular design and not at all consistent with one another. Some of them resembled abstract wooden box shapes, which had been carelessly and randomly stacked to create an unlikely whole. Again, the whole ensemble was just confusing to look at, especially when regarding the entire street all at once.
He intermittently encountered other people on his way, of varying shapes, sizes and raincoats, but again, none of them looked like they wanted to say ‘hello’, and hurried on past without looking up. Continuing further down the street, he eventually arrived at a large, looming, rectangular whitewashed building on his left with green mould spreading intravenously over its walls. It had a smooth black sloping roof, and was flanked by broad, straight, smoothly-paved alleyways which led to wide, accessible portals located on either side of the building. It didn’t appear to have any windows at all, and looked all the more intimidating for it.
He headed towards the main entrance, which was centrally located at the front of the austere construction, opened the heavy black door by pulling a cold thick metal handle, and feeling a slight sense of trepidation, stepped inside.