Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cycle 0

Five Pebbles blinked. There’s something wrong with my eyes. He blinked again, looking around. My puppet has gotten bigger. No, that wasn’t right. My chamber has gotten smaller. Still wrong. He blinked a third time. Damp. Dark. This is not my chamber.

Pebbles tried to remember what he was doing moments ago. His processors were working slow at retrieving the data. Remarkably slow. When nothing came, he reasoned something had gone wrong. Something was damaged. Something had blown up. It had to be considerable damage for him to lose connection with his memory conflux.

He tried to assess the structural integrity of his superstructure, and failed. He tried to access communication with his overseers, to which came no response. He sensed no connection to his superstructure at all. Perhaps the issue lay with his processors themselves. That would explain the shrouded box he perceived himself to be in. It was an error of the mind. There was nothing he could actively do about it.

…No matter. He would wait it out. Iterators were programmed, designed, and biologically purposed to automatically repair themselves, to some degree. This sensory failure, this hallucination, whatever it was, would pass, and when he was in his right mind, he would properly assess the damage. He closed his eyes.

Cycle 1

He woke to the pounding in his chest, the pulsing in his ears. He heard labored breathing. It was his own. Everything shook. He was falling apart. He was collapsing. What could he do?

Pain. His puppet’s arms instinctively wrapped around its torso, and for the first time he noticed, he was lying curled up on the ground. He tried to move his arms again. He barely pushed himself up. His eyes told him lies. He was in the same small dark box. Not his chamber. With a low grinding sound, the wall before him parted, revealing an exit. What… is this…? An urgency to leave struck him, and he hadn’t the time nor the processing power to argue.

He dragged himself up and squeezed out the gap in the wall, falling and landing on the gravel outside. The light was barely better outside than it was inside. …Is this outside? His head ached. His ears rang. He rose, trembling. He looked up. What little light there was reflected off the side of something blue. A tendril from above dangled a blue teardrop-shaped object before him. His mouth watered. My puppet… doesn’t have a mouth. The thought was washed away by a flood of desire.

Pebbles grabbed at it. He forced it in his mouth. Biting down on it, it burst open, filled with moisture, as well as an intoxicating sensation he had never experienced. He swallowed and it was gone. Its absence ate at him. His hands were shaking. Need. He needed more. He was convinced if he did not have more, he would die. He whipped around. There were two more blue things, hanging just a little higher up than the first. 

He grabbed one in each hand and devoured both in seconds. One moment it was pleasure. The next it was need, gnawing at him from the inside out. There were no more nearby. His head felt heavy. The world itself seemed to tilt. He took a step to steady himself but couldn’t stop when his feet stumbled rapidly to the right. His hand caught support on a wall. And in the wall was a pipe. Just big enough.

He climbed up the edge of the pipe’s opening, squirmed in and wriggled through. He popped out the other side, hitting the ground with a splash. Water. Shallow water. He stood. Left. Right. Blue thing. Deep blue. There it was. Too far up. Couldn’t reach. He jumped, caught it, and pulled it down with him. In his mouth it went, and was gone.

If only he could get one more. He saw one. It was too far up. He jumped, but jumping didn’t help. A steel pole stuck out of the ground beneath it. As he placed a hand on the pole, apprehension tried to surface, telling him it was too slick to climb. But he looked up, and the blue thing tugged at him.

He gripped the pole as high as he could reach and hoisted himself up, his legs wrapping around it beneath him. Struggling with the trembling in his arms and legs, he slowly scooted up the pole. He stopped to reach for the blue thing with one arm. It was almost in his grasp. He scooted up just a bit more. Reaching out again, the trembling in his arms and legs ceased. His body went limp, his grip slipped, and he fell. Hitting the ground, he breathed out, and found that he could not breathe in again. Pain shot up his spine. Violent spasms seized his body as it fought for air. His vision was blacking out. There was no thought process left in him that could ask if he were about to die.

He came to a few seconds later, gasping. As the spasms calmed, light returned to his eyes. For a moment he had forgotten where he was, and confusion hit him afresh, until he looked up at the blue thing, and reason left him again. He scrambled to his feet, nearly toppling over, back onto the ground. He steadied himself on the pole. With one deep breath, he launched himself up on the pole. He climbed quickly and snatched the blue thing. Finally, he had it. It went in his mouth and filled him with satisfaction. He slid down, his feet landing solidly on the ground. Leaning on the pole, his heart rate normalized as the life returned to him.

And with it returned his mind.

Five Pebbles blinked. He stood frozen in bewilderment. The sight before him was not his chamber, but bore vague resemblance to images his overseers had taken from the surface below his can. But this was not an image. He stood beneath the grimy ruins of a building from a time that was long gone. Clouded sunlight came through the gaps in the ceiling. He stepped across the wet gravel with fascination. He was beholding it himself, from the eyes of his puppet. This can’t be real.

He turned and began to step slowly backwards to view the other half of the room. He still had no apparent connection to his superstructure. Which was impossible, because he was his superstructure. Something had to be horribly wrong. A little *sploosh* was heard as his foot stepped into the edge of a pool of water and he stopped. A prior thought resurfaced. It disturbed him to the core. Mouth.

Pebbles turned to the pool of water, and amidst the dying ripples, gazed into his reflection. At first glance, he saw his puppet, at second glance, he saw something else entirely. It didn’t have a cloak. It didn't have antennae. No cables. No rig. It had a mouth. It had ears. It had a tail. It was a very small creature, a type he recalled having seen only a few times. Yet something about its design made it him. Maybe it was the color, or the eyes, or the little marks on its head. Or maybe it was the look of disgust on its face, mingled with fear. He couldn’t have imagined to find himself looking so pitiful.

A droplet shook the reflection. Another pecked him on the head. Seconds later they pittered all around. His heart skipped a beat. Rain . The creature’s instincts took over and he turned to run back the way he came. He tripped and landed on all fours. The push to move forward– he pulled back. What am I doing? I have to think this through first. I can’t go about this like an animal. My mind is superior. There, on his hands and knees, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He reached for his reserves of knowledge and logical processing.

And found nothing.

The ground shook. His eyes flung open. In a matter of seconds, the dappling had turned to a downpour. Fear seized him, and he didn’t stop it this time. He rose and ran. He reached the pipe and hope fluttered at the edge of his senses. But he never got in.

A neon green head stuck out of the pipe and snapped at him–he fell backwards– before a scaly black body slithered out behind it. He couldn’t move. Only stared at its size. Twice his size. Saliva dripped from its jaws. He heard a hiss, a snap. Saw a blur. Felt a tightness in his chest. Everything went dark.

He woke with a pounding in his chest, a pulsing in his ears. He gasped. Curling his arms around his body, he groaned. It didn’t take him long to figure out what had happened. “Paracyclical death,” he whispered between bated breaths. So, this mouth has some intelligent use, he mused before the pain took over. Not just pain. Emptiness, he realized. Starvation. 

The low grinding was heard. The wall before him parted. Though in this foggy state again, things began to make sense. This dark box was a Living Block. A shelter. Knowing the nature of lizards and rain, it was one he needed to get back to if he didn’t want to die again. However, death by starvation was another issue in itself. He needed to put first thing first. Blue thing.

The thought consumed him and pulled him forward. The craving practically moved his body for him. With what little mind he had, he directed his body toward its goal, reminding it of exactly where the food was, what it would take to get it, and the need to be faster than last time.

It was all more or less a blur of animalistic instinct. He left the shelter, ate the first one. Turned around, ate the next two. Passed through the pipe, ate the next. When it came to the pole, he pulled hard at the reins to stop himself. He stared at the base of the pole, fighting the urge to look up, for he knew that when he did, he would lose whatever control he had. If he could avoid the issue he had last cycle, it wouldn’t only spare him some agony, but possibly some time as well.

Pebbles took his shaking hands and placed them on the pole, still keeping his head down. He took a deep breath to calm his body. He took another to strengthen it. With one last breath in, he launched himself up. He climbed, not stopping till he was certain he could reach the blue thing. Tearing it from the tendril that held it, he consumed it. The last one.

Full clarity returned after descending the pole for the second time. But he didn’t stop to think. He ran. Outside the pipe he hesitated for fear, but reminded himself it wasn’t raining. It was early enough in the cycle. The lizard wasn’t here yet.

He entered the pipe. His mind couldn’t help itself. Rapid shallow breaths escaped his lungs. It was tight. He thought he wouldn’t be able to move his arms. His vision blurred. His head spun. Calm down. Calm down. He reached forward and found his body to be more pliable than expected. Pushing against the sides of the pipe, he pulled himself forward. Reach, push, pull. This process repeated itself only 3 or 4 times before he made it out the other side. With one final push he popped out of the pipe and onto the ground. “Hah!” he cried, “I’m out!” The gentle falling of rain was the only reply.

His ears went up. He looked around. Where was the shelter? It was darker here than in the room with the water. Glancing back, he was surprised he had even found the pipe before. If only he had a light source.

Across the room something like bubbles scattered in the air. Green bubbles. Behind them, a neon green face. His heart rate went up. There was nowhere to hide. Could it see him? What a stupid question. Of course it could see him. With how loud the blood pounding in his ears was, he figured it could hear him, too. He had seconds, seconds to respond, as it crawled towards him. He picked up a rock and threw it. It knocked against the lizard’s skull, turning the creature around for a moment. Pebbles seized this moment.

He bounded forward, ducking away from the lizard’s face, and ran past. Its hiss from behind kept him moving. The more he moved, the more his eyes adjusted to the dark, and the more he could see. He could make out the walls. He could see other pipes. But he couldn’t see the shelter, and he couldn’t hear the lizard behind him anymore. He could hear rain. The rain was louder now.

He turned to look back, for fear he had missed the shelter. Neon green snapped at his tail. How?! How was it so close? He stumbled over himself and fell. It’s jaws closed around him with a crisp *snap*. His breath came in gasps. He could feel its teeth. Its gums. Its grip, just tight enough to hold, but not tight enough to kill. Did it intend to eat him alive?

He squirmed in its mouth, but could not get free. It carried him across the room. The way it held him, all he could do was look up. And looking up, he saw it. The shelter. It was in the ceiling. The sound of rain filled his ears, draining out even the sloshing of rising water below. He lost sight of the shelter as the lizard began to push its way into a pipe. Please, his heart cried out in desperation. The lizard pulled back. Or rather, it was pushed back.

A pink lizard had blocked them as it pushed its way out of the pipe. Its hiss could barely be heard apart from the rain. It snapped hungrily at Five Pebbles and missed as the green lizard jerked back. The pink one’s jaws chattered. They were going to fight over him. He was going to get torn apart. He closed his eyes and braced himself for death. There was a snap, and a gagging noise. The pressure around his body released. Splash!

He opened his eyes. Everything was a blur. His lungs sucked for air, but found only water. He coughed and swung his appendages around. Feeling the ground beneath him, he pushed up. He broke the surface of the water, sputtering to clear his airways. Blinking the water away, he found himself standing neck-high in water.

He was still alive. He saw the two lizards clawing and biting at each other and took a step back. The pink lizard had attacked the green, and the green had let go. Five Pebbles had a brief sense of gratitude.

He looked up and found the shelter. When he couldn’t feel the ground anymore, he realized the water was rising. He kicked and paddled towards the hole. He wasn’t close enough to climb in. His leg bumped something in the water. His heart skipped a beat, terrified that it might be one of the lizards. Looking into the depths, he saw a thin dark object, and realized it was a piece of rebar. He had an idea. He grabbed the rebar, lifted it over his shoulder, and clumsily thrust it into the ceiling next to the shelter hole. Though implanted there, it stuck out considerably.

He reached to grab hold of it. His fingertips barely touched it. The water surged, pushing him up and towards it. His fingers wrapped around it and he pulled himself up. The water licked at his legs. He raised an arm out past the rebar, towards the ceiling, and found the shelter entrance. Pushing off the pole and he tried to haul himself into the shelter. His upper body fit into the hole but his hands found no purchase. He scrambled with his legs for a moment, terrified he would fall. Surprisingly, his body held to the walls like a slug. Feeling it begin to slip, he pulled up with his arms, and within a second he had entered the shelter.

He turned and scooted as far back into the shelter as he could. Tucking his tail around his crouched, trembling body, he stared at the open entrance in anticipation. The grinding sound emanated from the wall and its mechanisms began to emerge and close around one another, creating the watertight seal that the Living Blocks were known for. Realizing he had been holding his breath, he breathed out. For the next few turns, Pebbles waited, wide-eyed, for another life threatening event to occur.

When he finally accepted that he was safe, he rested his head on his hands… or were they paws? What was he? What was happening? Nothing had ever happened like this before. It was unreal. Yet it was the most palpable experience he ever had with the physical world in his life. He had a million more questions, none of them with answers, but as his body calmed, a dark heaviness overcame his mind, and it wasn’t long before he slipped away.

Chapter Text

Cycle 2 ~ The Cage

Five Pebbles woke with a start. The noise of the shelter opening had roused him. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and what he was doing there. His body wasn’t shaking like at the beginning of the previous cycle, but it was empty. He could tell. And it was a strange feeling. Stranger still was the lack of connection to anything but this immediate facility. This body. He couldn’t even call for help. Ironic. He remembered intending on closing off all communication anyways. Why? That part, he could not remember.

Still, in vain he called out.

“Seven Red Suns? Grey Wind?”

Even to the one whose superstructure was closest to his.

“Big Sis Moon?”

To which came no reply.

Pebbles’ stomach growled. He had to go. He intended not to starve again. And hopefully, he would not die again. Leaving the shelter for the third—no, second time? Did the third count if the cycle reset? It hadn’t happened. He wasn’t dead. ‘What if death is the answer?’ he remembered hearing said. Who said it, he didn’t know. He didn’t care—

He landed on the gravel outside. He rose to his feet unsteadily, leaning on the wall next to him. He could hardly stand, let alone make his legs move. His breath came quick and shallow. He had done this last cycle without any trouble. Now it was like the first time. Like a newborn learning to walk. Maybe if he just thought of his legs as gravity disruptors…

He shuffled along the wall, taking the first few wobbly steps. Legs were nothing like gravity disruptors. Moving them took effort. Finding the correct placement on the ground after lifting them was difficult. His own weight was working against him. The other cycle he had only moved on instinct. Now his mind was getting in the way. He collapsed to his hands and knees after another series of attempts. He closed his eyes and breathed out. Maybe he could get the little creature to do it for him. He furrowed his brows. Ridiculous. He was the little creature. But he had to try something.

What was it that drove him before? Food. Shelter. Food was a good starting place. Pebbles opened his eyes and looked up. There was no blue thing this time. Not here, anyhow. He had eaten it. Eaten it. Like a base creature. He wanted to refuse his situation. Cling to his dignity. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time for that now. Blue thing. He had to focus on that. How it felt in his mouth. He cringed. How it filled him. He sighed. It was energy. Energy he needed. And with what energy he had, he had to find it. With the vague memory of yestercycle, he rose to his feet and moved. Slowly at first, along the wall. With each step he took he tried to lift his eyes from the rootgrass growing between cracks in the floor. Then, with a little confidence, he moved into the space of the ruins around him.

Pebbles looked to the pipe he had gone through the previous cycle. He decided he wouldn’t go there again. He doubted there was any food left there. But more than that, he was afraid of being drawn to the pool of water again. Afraid of seeing his reflection. He chose another pipe, not the one the pink lizard had come from. He didn’t want to deal with it again. He was glad the lizards hadn’t come back this way. He walked towards the pipe of his choice, with each step markedly better than the last. He wriggled into the pipe he chose, forcibly took slow, deep breaths, and made his way to the other side.

Poking his head out, he surveyed the view. Light levels were much higher here, which gave him the impression that this was closer to outside than the decrepit ruins behind him. A large steel-paneled floor stretched before him, dotted with inoperative heating units, conveyor belts, half-pipes and funnels. Water dripped from above, prompting him to look up. Perhaps a mile overhead, a cage-like mesh covered the sky. Was this a factory, or maybe a prison? Looking out again in front of him, he judged it safe enough, and crawled out of the pipe to explore. Food. Food had to be the priority. Next, shelter. He didn’t know how long he had till it would rain again. And it was certain to rain again.

Five Pebbles wove his way through the rubble and old machinery, discovering many gaps in the floor as he went, holes too deep to see the bottom of. Most of the time he was bipedal, but sometimes he was on all fours. It was a novelty, using arms and legs. He had little need of them before. Presently, he found no more trouble walking. He accredited it to the organism’s muscle memory. It seemed to be built right in, and finally functioning again.

As he passed by one of the holes, a black cloud flew out. He jumped back and held his breath. With faint trills, the cloud divided and alighted upon nearby overhangs. He breathed out when he realized it was only batflies. One hung upside-down on a ledge, and with more trills a few others coupled themselves together with it like a chain. His stomach growled. He turned away from the little creatures and ducked into the shade of a nearby structure.

Pebbles’ eyes were fixed on finding more of those blue things. They seemed to form on low ceilings, so there was a chance there’d be more here. He didn’t journey far into the structure when there one was. It was a little higher than he could reach. Fortunately, a chain hung from the ceiling to the floor. He tugged cautiously at it. It seemed well anchored. Only jangled a little. Placing his paws on the metal links, he climbed. When he was level with the blue thing–was it a fruit?–he reached out for it. Now the horizontal distance was too far. Physics came to mind, and he leaned his body back slightly. He leaned forward slightly. Back. Forward. The chain swung. He swung on the chain, back and forth, till the fruit was close enough to reach. He grabbed it.

With the sudden relief, his grip on the chain slipped, and in a tick he had hit the floor. Blinking, he saw the fruit was no longer in his hands. He jumped up and looked around. There it was, just a few feet away. He lunged at it, and nearly put it in his mouth. But this was the first time he afforded to think about eating. Before, it was purely on instinct. He hesitantly put it in his mouth and bit down. It was a strange sensation, flavor being something he had never known. But it was pleasant.

He finished chewing and swallowed. It wasn’t enough. Looking around the room, there were no more fruit to be found. Nothing blue. In fact, everything was rather grey here. He missed his chamber.

Upon further search, he did find a small opening in the bottom of the rightmost wall. He crawled underneath to discover another room on the other side. Darker here. More rubble. No fruit. But then there was what looked like the shaft of a deep mining drill, leaning diagonally across the length of the room. Pebbles drew closer to inspect it. He was partially mistaken. It was just a surface drill, meant for the extraction of uncommon material.

Behind it something moved. Its head flickered grey in the dark. Pebbles jumped back a tick before the lizard jaw bit down on where he used to be. Its body rippled into view. In contrast to the other lizard’s, this one’s body was stark white. When it wasn’t camouflaging itself, that is. But like the others, its mere size caused Pebbles to yelp, turn, and run. The sound of its claws scraped softly against the floor in pursuit. He spotted the hole he had come through and ducked under. His heart pounded. He was crawling on his belly for a moment that felt too long before he emerged on the other side. The lizard came at his heels.

Pebbles turned his attention to the ground, but didn’t stop running till he found a chunk of rubble he could fit in his hand. In hopes to slow the lizard down, he turned and launched it. The throw was clumsy. He missed. The lizard lunged forward. Pebbles jumped and grabbed hold of the chain from before. It swung him across the room, and with him clinging tightly, it swung him back towards the lizard. At the peak of the swing, he jumped and sailed over the lizard’s head, landing just outside the structure. He grabbed the nearest rock, two rocks, and took to running again.

He was passing by one of the gaps in the panels when there was a *shluck* sound from behind, and something pulled him back. Turning his head, he saw a sticky black cable had adhered itself to him. At the other end of it, the lizard. It stood a few paces behind him, jaws open wide, its long tongue stretched taut and now reeling him in.

Pebbles dropped the rocks and tried to free himself from the lizard’s tongue. Clasping his hand around it, he pulled and tugged desperately, but it held fast. He grabbed one of the rocks and threw it at the lizard. It missed, and hit a batfly. He picked up the other rock. The tongue pull tightened. It was reeling him in faster now. He dug his feet into the ground and pulled in the opposite direction, but fell flat on his face. He stuck the rock in his mouth and gripped at the edges of the hole next to him. Looking into the well of darkness, he saw a pole sticking out horizontally from the inside, a little way down. What if he jumped? Would the force of gravity alone be enough to sever the tongue’s connection? What if he missed the pole? He would fall into the darkness. He struggled to breath through his nose as his mouth was occupied. He wished he had more time to think it through.

Pushing off the edge of the hole, Pebbles thrust himself forward. He had only fallen a short distance when the opposing forces of his jump and the tongue knocked him against the side of the ledge. He swallowed the rock. It was heavy in his stomach. The tongue was still holding on, the lizard trying to reel him up out of the hole. But he thought maybe its grip had loosened a little. The pole was before him. He reached and caught hold of it. He pulled closer to it and wrapped his body around it. This made things more difficult for the lizard, which now had to stand on the ledge to maintain its tongue-grip.

If only I still had that rock, Pebbles thought, and as if an instinctive reaction to this thought, a sick feeling shook his body and the rock made its way up his throat. He put a hand to his mouth to catch it. Holding it, he stared for a moment with disgust. Looking back up at the lizard, he took aim and threw the rock. It hit the lizard in the head. The lizard’s tongue detached from Five Pebbles, its body lost balance and slipped over the edge. A white blur fell past him, and then it was gone.

He clung to the pole, heart still pounding. After a moment, he rose to balance on the pole while he reached up for the ledge. His paws didn’t quite make it to the top. Not daring to look down, he hopped upwards, grateful for his sluglike qualities that held him to the wall just long enough to push up with his legs and reach over the ledge with his arms. He hauled himself over and, now standing at the top, wrapped his arms around his shaking body with a sigh.

His stomach growled. A humid breeze warmed his slick fur as he looked back in the direction he had run. He could feel vibrations in the floor. The rain was on its way. He began to retrace his steps towards the structure with the drill, when something on the ground quivered in the wind, catching his attention. It was the batfly that had been hit by his rock. The way the wind moved one of its little wings, Pebbles almost thought it was still alive. He told himself it was time to go on, but found himself staring at the batfly. His mouth was salivating.

An omnivore, he classified himself in the back of his mind, I’m an omnivore. He hardly realized when he had stepped closer to the batfly. He picked it up, and though his instincts urged him to eat it, he pulled gently at one of the wings in observation. Mammalian in feature, bug in nature. He had to go. But how did it fly, with the ratio between the size of its wings and the mass of its body? He could hear the distant rumble. If only he had access to his creature encyclopedia. A drop of water hit his head, waking him up from his thoughts.

Shoot.

Pebbles turned towards the ruins where the shelter was located, then back at the nearby structure. He didn’t have enough food. But if he was caught in the rain, he would die. He dashed back towards the shelter. He bounded over heating units and around holes. Beneath him, the metal panels resonated with each strike of his paws against them. Finally, standing in the shade of the building’s overhang, Pebbles looked back. It hadn’t taken him as long coming back as it had going out. It was only barely raining. Perhaps he had misjudged the time. Misjudged the distance.

Looking down at his hands, he realized he had carried the batfly all this way. His organism was a clingy little thing. He sniffed at the batfly. If this was food, there was more back there. He lifted it to his mouth. An iterator, eating bugs just to survive . He cringed, pushed down the thought, and shoved the batfly in his mouth. He shut his eyes tight as he chewed, not wanting to think about the indignity of his situation. He had to focus on surviving. But was it worth it to live? A familiar feeling came over him.

Pebbles coughed and gagged, then forced himself to swallow. So occupied was he with his thoughts that he didn’t remember how it tasted, or how it felt in his mouth. Opening his eyes again, he knew he had to go back. If he was fast enough, he could get food and make it to the shelter in time before the downpour. He headed back, again.

By the time he reached the batfly overhangs and the drill structure, it was undeniably drizzling. There were less batflies fluttering about because of it. Pebbles picked up a rock and threw it at the first batfly he saw. He missed. He picked up another, this time more careful with his aim as he eyed the next batfly. He was too careful, as the batfly retreated into its calcite nest before he could throw the rock. All the rest followed course. He waited for a moment, hoping at least a few might come out again. But none did.

Pebbles growled and launched the rock at the overhang. Mistake after mistake. He failed to accomplish anything worthwhile. His stomach grumbled as if to rub it in. The rain was really starting to come down now, and he had no choice but to return to the shelter. He was on his way back when something about a gap in the floor stopped him in his tracks. Familiar claws hung about the edge, followed by a familiar head, followed by a dread that was becoming far too familiar for Pebbles’ taste.

The white lizard laid eyes on him. It darted out of the hole. Five Pebbles turned and ran. Not again! He looked over his shoulder briefly. The shelter was back that way. He needed to change direction. A vengeful hiss behind only caused him to run faster, further from the safety he needed from the rain. He ducked into the structure with the drill, with hope that he might shake off the lizard in there. It was dark. Oh, it was dark. Even more so now that the rain had clouded what little light came in.

He found the drill and climbed to its peak, with little space between that and the ceiling. Looking down, his eyes began to adjust and he could see the lizard at the room’s entrance. Other than its body spasmodically changing hues, it didn’t move. He stared at it, wishing it to get out of the way, but all it did was stare back at him.
His gaze flicked about the room for another exit, before returning to the lizard to make sure it hadn’t made a move towards him. He reiterated this action, with no results. This lizard seemed to actually possess some intelligence. It knew that that was the only way out. It knew he was trapped. But why didn’t it shoot at him with its tongue?

As though the ceiling gained a thousand holes, rain began to pour in. His body was immediately drenched in the downpour. Lizard or not, he was going to die. The lizard began to move. Pebbles looked around the room one more time. Amid the darkness and rain, a little light quivered. He blinked water out of his eyes. The light was in the shape of an open box. It was the universal symbol for resting place. Shelter. Below it, in the wall, was a hole. Glancing back at the lizard, he realized it wasn’t heading for him. It was heading for the shelter.

Pebbles leaped towards the shelter, not sure if there was even anything to grab onto to help him get inside. Fortunately, his arms found a ledge. Unfortunately, the rain made it difficult to hold on. The lizard was crawling up the wall next to him. He heaved and pulled himself up. He crawled into the shelter, and after landing inside turned to see the lizard pushing its way in. Its jaw was clamped shut by a chain wrapped around its snout. It must have happened in the prior fall.

Stumbling backwards, Pebbles screamed, “Get out!” He pushed at it with his legs, not allowing it past the entry pipe. It growled and with a sudden *chink* broke the chain around its face. He tried to scoot back, but there wasn’t any space in the cramped box to do so. Next to him, he felt a piece of rebar. The lizard opened wide its mouth to eat him. He threw the rebar, lodging it straight down the lizard’s throat. It jolted, and one warm breath filled the chamber before all movement ceased. He waited for a moment, then, with a push from him, the lizard slid out. With the pipe clear, the shelter mechanisms activated, sealing off the entry.

Five Pebbles stared blankly, then heaved, then broke down crying. What fate was this? He denied it. He denied it with every fiber of his being. Even as he curled up in fetal position on the floor, he denied it. Even as he cried himself to sleep…

Chapter Text

Cycle 3

The next cycle was one of starvation. Five Pebbles woke with little energy. His body trembled, like before, but for a while he lay there. He watched the shelter open for him, and lay there. There was a remembrance of repetition. A remembrance of futility. A remembrance of the will to die. His body called him to move. His heart told him to stay. His mind ordered him to move. And against his dark desire, he moved. He pulled slowly out of the shelter and fell to the ledge outside. He crouched there for a moment, and by the urging of his body, he moved to the wall beside the ledge, pressed himself against it and slid down to the ground.

While his body led him out to the batfly nests, he mused on fragments of memories that were starting to come together. Was the self-destruction taboo still in place? Even now? The last thing he remembered was being about to begin the process that would rid him of it. Was this whole experience a result of that? It didn’t make any sense.

He threw rocks at the batflies. Though feeble, he was able to hit his mark plenty of times. Five times. Five batflies. Five Pebbles. He didn’t think it funny. Just another repetition. Another reiteration. Where was the way out? The Ancients didn’t leave them with a way out. But Sliver of Straw made her own way out. At least, that’s what Five Pebbles believed.

The rest of the batflies, in consideration of their dwindling numbers, retreated to their nests. One or two still flitted about, but Pebbles paid them no mind. He went to the ones now lying on the floor. The ones he killed. Just another picture of the Cycle. He hated the Ancients, but never realized how deeply their religion penetrated him. He was built on the very thing.

He ate the batflies, one at a time. Slowly, passively. The flavor, the texture, meant nothing to him. Even the thought of a god-like being such as himself being reduced to this was out of his mind. His mind was on a pearl. It was in his hands. It was the last thing he saw. It was the only thing he needed, to make his way out. Like Sliver of Straw. Now where was it? Now, where was he?

Something flickered in the corner of his vision. He turned around to see a little glowing noodle, its body brown, its eye blue, poking out of the ground. Holographic arrows projected around its eye, blue too. Recognizing it as an overseer, Five Pebbles felt less alone. It gazed at him for a tick, before blinking away in a flash of light. His eyes scanned the area, near and distant, for its reappearance. And it did reappear, though only for a moment on a far off overhang, before blinking out of existence. Though it wasn’t out of existence, only out of sight.

A motive filled him. If there was an overseer nearby, and the rain too–he should’ve come to this conclusion sooner–then there was an iterator nearby. One like himself, though not in his current condition. Memories of working with those in his local group resurfaced. Seven Red Suns, Big Sis Moon, Chasing Wind. Though he was better accustomed to working alone, there was much they had done in search of the solution together. If there was anyone nearby, they might be able to help him.

He scarfed down the last batfly and life returned. Climbing up a nearby heater, Pebbles stood as tall as he could, looking for another glimpse of the overseer. But there was no sign of it. Looking further up, he hoped to catch sight of the iterator's superstructure. But this entire region appeared to be in a deep hole, surrounded by a metal cage. He could barely see the clouded sky, let alone the neighboring regions or the rainmaking iterator itself. This must be an old mine, he reasoned. According to common architectural records, it was likely built with a lift that should be able to carry him up and out. He just had to find it.

Pebbles took another sweeping look at the space around him and began to map out all he could see in his mind. The eastern and western walls of the region (or so he assumed east and west, it was difficult to tell) were the most likely candidates for a lift. The eastern was closest, and it was back that way in which his first shelter was located. The one he found himself in. What possible events might have placed him there?

He headed east. He didn’t allow himself to come too close to another pit again, but was on high alert. Every sound, every vibration, even the smells he had started to notice, he began cataloging it all. The difference between help and harm was imperative to know.

Pebbles reached the first structure and went inside. As before, it was rather dark, apart from a couple rays. He blinked a few times, turning his head left and right in an attempt to quickly adjust to the deeper shadows. To his relief, there was nothing else around but him. Looking up, his gaze landed on the shelter entrance. If he didn’t find the lift this cycle, that was likely where he would return.

Labeling this room TC_01, Pebbles moved onto to TC_02, the room with the pole and pool of water. He had only been here briefly before, and figured it worth exploring before crossing it off as a potential route to the lift. Having seen more of the mine, this room seemed smaller than he remembered. The fruit had not yet grown back, but there were batflies flitting about whereas there were none before. He skirted the edges of the room, avoiding the pool of water as he searched for other shafts or pipes that might lead him elsewhere. There were none, so he headed back the way he came.

Back in TC_01, he noted three other pipes he had not yet gone through. One was out of reach. Another was where the lizards had come from. He chose the third, which was so low to the ground he had to get on all fours to crawl inside. Once inside, the pipe led him straight forward and then sharply up not long before turning back horizontally. When his head poked out the other side, he thought the room before him looked oddly familiar.

He was looking down into a dark room that had four pipes other than the one he was in, and a piece of rebar sticking out next to a gap in the ceiling. Within a second he realized it was the same room, TC_01. Only now he was viewing it from the pipe that had previously been out of reach. The pipe at the bottom and the one at the top were one-in-the-same. Pebbles furrowed his brow. That meant the only pipe left unexplored was the one with the lizards.

A draft came from above and he looked up. Relief washed over him as he saw there was a little vent just within reach. He didn’t have to go near the lizards after all. As if in response to his thoughts, a green lizard squeezed its way out of the pipe below. Pebbles clasped a hand over his mouth. He watched it for a moment. It hadn’t spotted him, and so long as it didn’t look up, it wouldn’t. He pushed cautiously out of his pipe, and reached up for the vent’s opening. He glanced down again at the lizard, which lingered in the room.

His heart thumped at the threat of death. If it knew this place better than he did, which it did, it would only take a moment for it to traverse the bottom pipe and catch him. He pushed the thought away to focus on the vent. Reaching again, he found purchase in the opening shaft. His hind paws quietly scrabbled against the side before adhering long enough to push him up. He turned around and peeked once more to be certain, with another bout of relief, that the lizard had neither seen nor followed him.

Pebbles climbed through the vent. It had a couple twists and turns but mostly carried him upwards. His head popped out the other side, from the floor of another room. There was better light here. It was spacious, and rather airy. This was because it wasn’t closed in with solid walls, but rather latticework, divided by six pillars around the edge of the room that bore the weight of the ceiling.

He climbed out of the pipe and headed over to one of the panels of lattice, where he looked out to see an overview of the structure. Connected to the far eastern end of the structure was the lift. It wasn’t blocked by debris, and its machinery appeared to still be intact. Hope rose higher within him. Moving to one of the other panels, he searched for a path he might take to the lift. His heart sank. The only accessible path was through a room to the north. He didn’t need to see the glimpses of neon faces through the holes in its roof to know what pipe he had to take to get there.

Leaving the room (now TC_03) the same way he entered, he found his heart pounding at the prospect of what he needed to do. The probability of death was high. He felt nauseous. Was this how simple creatures always reacted to anxiety? Poking his head out of the vent back in TC_01, he gasped for air. He stopped breathing when he realized the lizard might still be around. His eyes scanned the room, confirming it to be gone. He returned to breathing, this time taking slow, deep breaths. He needed a plan.

Pebbles had no internal schematic of the lizard room other than a vague idea of the size and shape based off the view from TC_03. If he could get a look around inside, he could plan accordingly how he would make it to the room beyond, and ultimately, the lift. The risk for this information wasn’t technically critical, as it seemed he would just wake up again. But as much as possible, it was an outcome he would rather avoid. He could hardly say, it having only happened to him once, but so far he found paracyclical death rather unpleasant.

Taking the upper pipe down to the ground, Pebbles emerged and stood before the pipe to the unknown, TC_04. His body trembled. Just going in for a quick look, he told himself to calm his nerves. He took a deep breath and crawled in. The pipe had a smell his fear called ‘death’. He forced himself through despite the urge to go back. He wasn’t sure he could even turn himself around inside the pipe. Once on the other side, the first thing to assault his senses was sounds of hissing and snapping. His eyes beheld three lizards locked together in a tussle.

They were so preoccupied with one another that they had yet to notice him. To the left, there was a heating unit he could hide behind. Pebbles quickly crawled out of the pipe to scurry over to it. He peeked past the side of the heater to get a better view of the room. *Thud.* He jumped. Something had fallen behind him. He turned around and looked up to see a green lizard, its jaw relaxed and salivating. He met its empty gaze. He ducked as it snapped, before slipping under its belly and between its legs.

Pebbles leapt on top of the heating unit while the lizard took a moment to search for him on the ground. In this moment, he scanned the edges of the room for open doors, pipes, vents, shafts, anything that would take him further to his destination. At the far end of the room he spotted what he barely recognised as a door. Before he could examine it in detail, the lizard had begun climbing the heating unit. Leaping down, he found the others had taken pursuit of him as well.

He ran in the direction of the door. Midway, he stopped. The middle portion of the room plunged a distance too great to climb back up. That is, if it weren’t for the tall poles of rebar sticking up from within. He would have to use them to get to the other side. And with one glance at the other side he saw the door. The door was too old to be moved from its place, but it was the open vent at the bottom of the door that caught his attention. It was the passage he needed.

His ears perked up to the sound of rain. Water trickled around his feet. It was filling the room, pouring down into the gap ahead. All the lizards but one quit their pursuit. Pebbles wanted to jump to the poles, jump across. Reach the lift. But the rain. But the lizard. It was getting closer. It was right there, he just had to jump! Not yet , he told himself. He had to get back to the shelter.

He turned back, facing the lizard. It was too close now. Trying to run around it wasn’t the best course of action. There wasn’t any visible rubble to throw at it. He needed a way of escape. To the right was a raise in the floor, no, a rusted conveyor belt. Higher ground. At the end of it, a pipe. Escape.

Pebbles leapt on top of the conveyor belt and ran towards the pipe. The lizard gave chase, climbing after him. He reached the pipe and wriggled through. Sticking his head out the other side, a large shadow, far larger than the lizards, hung over him. Its white mask drifted towards him. Vulture. In terror he squeezed back into the pipe, making his way backwards. The pipe trembled rhythmically. The lizard was coming. The stronger the tremors the closer he knew it was. He wanted to scream. He couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. He felt its snout. He felt its scales. He felt it glide past him in the pipe. Its hiss came faintly from the other side, then, aside from the rain, all fell silent.

It… passed him? Pebbles couldn’t believe it. After wasting a few precious moments in shock, he pulled himself back through the pipe the way he came. The scent of water was at the end of the pipe. He took a breath and held it as he came out the other side, submerged. His feet found the surface of the conveyor belt and pushed up. His head broke through to air. He was able to stand and breathe. Yet the water was up to his chin.

TC_04 was half flooded now. The pipe he had to return to would be underwater. The heating unit poked above the water for a second, and he knew where to go. He pushed off the conveyor belt and paddled forward till he had passed the heating unit. Taking a deep breath, he dove down.

All was a blur of shadow and light. He kicked his legs, stretched out his arms and pulled forward, swimming till he could feel the wall. He felt along the wall for the pipe. Nothing. Nothing. A current caught his tail, swishing it to the side. Down. The pipe was further down. He stopped feeling the wall and started feeling for the current. Diving down, he found it, and with all his might swam into it. He could feel the pipe walls around him. He pushed at the sides and pulled forward.

His lungs began to scream for air. His muscles were going limp. When he could feel the pipe no longer he figured he had made it to the other side. All he had to do was find the shelter. But first, air. He pulled up with what strength he had left. In moments he would break the surface. He hit the ceiling, still underwater. His hands clawed at the solid surface desperately. No, there had to be air. He needed air. He couldn’t see anything. All was dark. All was water.

A bubble slipped out of his mouth. Where was the shelter? Would it be filled with water too? He was going to die. He was going to drown. What a poetic way for an iterator to die. The current carried him along the ceiling. He bumped into something and could hold it no longer. His lungs let out what air was left, disappearing as bubbles. They sucked in to fill the space with water. He coughed and gagged, only to suck in more water. His stomach filled with water. Everything was going dark. Darker still.

The current tried to pull him away but his body clung to the thing he had bumped into. He wasn’t aware it was the rebar just outside the shelter. He wasn’t aware his body was still clinging to survival. The only thing he was aware of was suddenly vomiting water inside the safety of the shelter. Coughing, breathing air and burning lungs. Tired. Vomiting. Coughing. Darkness.

Chapter Text

Cycle 4

Pebbles woke with the same burning in his lungs. Worse even. His head ached, too. The pain was enough to tell him he hadn’t died. Almost enough to make him wish he had. The shelter groaned and opened for him. At this point he wasn’t sure which was worse: being half-starved, or half-drowned. He lay there for a moment and took in a deep breath of air. It hurt to breathe, but the air was sweet. More precious than food.

Food. His mind fought for focus. He needed to find food. The repetition made him sick. But he pushed it down, and pushed himself up. Up on his feet, and out of the shelter. He landed with a splash. Nothing could ever be dry, could it? Thanks to the iterators, it was a world of rain.

He made short work of the batflies in TC_02. Satiated, he returned to TC_01. Taking courage, he progressed to TC_04. The lizard room. Yet upon emerging from the pipe, there were no lizards to be found. Odd. Perhaps they had died in yestercycle’s flood. He slid out and cautiously made his way to the heating unit. Atop, he surveyed the room once more. There, just ahead. The gap. The door. The vent. The way out.

He leapt down and ran to the gap. All he had to do was jump from pole to pole and he would be at the other side in seconds. But now, staring at the poles, something caused him to hesitate. Was it fear? Fear of what? A lizard hiss greeted him from behind. He glanced over his shoulder for only a moment before jumping to the first pole. He caught hold of it easily with his adhesive paws.

The lizard snapped at him a little too close for comfort. Pebbles shifted his weight and leapt to the next pole. There were two left. A thud sounded from somewhere below. The lizard had fallen into the gap in its clumsy pursuit. It quickly recovered and began to make its way up his pole. He readied himself to push off toward the next one when that feeling came again, causing him to hesitate. A growing irritation filled Five Pebbles. He despised his body for its apparent weakness.

Pushing past it, he leapt forward and grabbed hold of the next pole. The pole bent under his weight like a reed. What? Next thing, he was seeing red. Red leaf-like appendages sprouted from the wobbling mimic pole. With them it seized Five Pebbles. He tried to get away. Tried to use his body weight to make it let go. But even that was against him as it retreated into the ground, pulling Pebbles down with it. His final sensation was that of darkness, nausea, and the inability to move.

Five Pebbles woke kicking and gasping. His lungs burned. His head ached. Paracyclical death. “Again?” He breathed out. How many times? He held a paw in front of his face, counting two digits. This was the second time. How many times left? How did it work again? He groaned, the shelter groaning with him as it opened.

He repeated his actions of the former experience till standing outside the pipe to TC_04. Glancing about TC_01, he found a loose shaft of rebar. He carried it into the pipe with him, taking care that it would not get stuck anywhere. Once out the other side, he climbed atop the heater. Surveying the room, it was just as before. No lizards yet.

He ran to the gap and stared at the poles. The feeling came again. Caution. Instinct. This time, he listened to it. Pebbles leapt to the first pole and slid down to the bottom. He examined each pole carefully. It was the third, wasn’t it? He had to be sure there weren’t more. Something moved. One of the poles pulsed from bottom to top, faint traces of red glistening on its edges for a moment before settling back into color, back into place. It was the only one.

Pebbles moved closer to it. The mimic’s leaves unfurled and reached out towards him. He lifted his rebar spear and thrust it into the plant. It wriggled and writhed. He stepped back. For several seconds it seemed to suffer before finally slinking into the ground, taking the rebar down with it. It did not come back, and when looking at the ground it had retreated into, it was as though it had never been there at all.

He shivered a sigh. *Thud.* He jumped. The lizard from last cycle–no, same cycle–had fallen down a pace or two behind him. Pebbles looked up at the final pole and set to climbing. He reached the top and launched himself in the direction of the ledge on the other side. He would’ve landed just fine on his feet, had not his body suddenly forgotten how to bear its own weight, leaving him stumbling and rolling as a ragdoll across the floor. He lay still on the ground, heaving in frustration.

Lifting his head, his eyes directly aligned with the door’s vent up ahead. Behind him was the lizard’s hiss. His heart beat hard. He hoped it would be enough to kick his body back into gear. He pushed up with his arms, but the muscle memory didn’t come. Pebbles began to crawl, lifting and placing one paw at a time. Slowly. Clumsily. All by pure mental effort. How close was the lizard now? He couldn’t hear it. His legs were dragging behind him. He was going nowhere.

He arched his back, activated his hips, and tried to lift a knee. He remembered the other cycle when he was having trouble. He remembered walking along the wall. He remembered how his legs moved and began to mimic that motion in his knee. The motion of the ball of his foot, digging into the ground. He raised himself to his feet and carried the weight of his body forward.

He staggered across the room, thinking to himself every moment that he wasn’t fast enough. The lizard should be here by now. Then he would die. He would die and have to go through this again. He would die and die until–

Pebbles reached the door. Placing his hands to lean on it, he turned and collapsed with his back against it. Where was his mental prowess, that such a small task had taken so much out of him? Looking out across the room, the lizard was nowhere near him. It was still on the pole. It reached out for the ledge and fell in the gap with a thud. It climbed the pole again, tentatively reached for the ledge, and fell once more.

Five Pebbles felt something rise in his chest. He began to chuckle. He laughed at the stupidity. The lizard’s, and his own. He had been so afraid. Though, he would not admit any fault on his part. He would blame the creature he was trapped inside, but his own intelligence would never be undermined.

The reprieve was cut short when another lizard emerged from the wall to his left. His muscle memory returned and he sprang to his feet, turned, and fumbled into the vent. Falling out the other side, Pebbles skittered to the shadows of a busted-open heating unit. Grabbing a piece of rubble to throw, he held his breath and watched the vent. He could see the lizard’s neon colors pass by. He waited for what seemed a very long time.

When it did not pass through, he relaxed a little. He lifted his eyes from the vent to look up at the door. It was the right size for an Ancient to pass through. How large it seemed. How small he felt. He crawled out of the shadows and turned around. The lift was just up ahead. There was a bright red light above it, indicating that it was active. Next to the red light was a yellow light, indicating that it was currently in use. He could see the elevator moving down from the top of its metal cage. There was something inside of it.

Five Pebbles watched from a distance with anticipation as it reached the bottom. The cage’s gate screeched open to reveal a large black creature. It was almost bird-like in form, though without talons. It held its massive body upright with the slimy tubiform wings at its sides. Its sagging neck supported a mandibled face, which, unlike the typical vulture, was unmasked.

Pebbles ducked back into the shadow of the heater. Peeking up through its busted top, he could see that the vulture was not alone. It lumbered out of the lift with three other vultures, all utilizing their wings like legs. From his can he had seen vultures use this mode of transportation when traversing spaces with low ceilings. But there was no ceiling here aside from the far up metal mesh that shut up the mines from the outside world. He waited for them to make use of their jet propulsion and fly away. Yet they didn’t.

They couldn’t, he discovered, observing a sort of plaster covering the orifices out of which their propellant would be expelled. Not to mention several baggage straps and hooks were fastened into their backs, making any pattern of flight exceedingly painful. This was no form of evolutionary development, but rather recent repurposing. By what? Scavengers?

One of the vultures looked his way, and his curiosity was curbed by fear. He shrank back into the inner corner of the heater. Everything trembled as the creature thumped its way towards Five Pebbles. The shadows became deeper as it loomed over his hiding place. Its neck curled, bringing its face only a mandible’s length from his.

Five Pebbles screamed, threw the rubble at the vulture, and darted. He didn’t get far. The vulture turned and, in the same motion, smacked a wing down top on him. The air was knocked out of him. His whole body and mind were stunned. He was flattened on the ground, fighting to regain control, when several mandibled shadows surrounded him. He was conscious of one heartbeat. One gasp for air. And four vultures reaching for him at once.

Five Pebbles opened his eyes. His lungs burned. His head ached. A cycle reset was a mixture of both disappointment and relief. He fell out of the shelter, and repeated the cycle as before. He was faster this time, taking out the mimic before the first lizard could get anywhere close. His body faltered again in the leap, but he calmly picked himself up and moved forward. He didn’t wait by the door, but fell through the vent as soon as he reached it.

He lay for a moment, looking up at the lift. It was still at the top, enabling him time to wait for the muscle memory to return. He had a second to question what the vultures were doing in the lift before ducking into the shade of the busted heating unit. Now what? He needed to get to the lift. Maybe wait for the vultures to leave? Was there anywhere for them to go? It hadn’t arrived yet. He peeked outside the heater to get a better glimpse of the area. There were open paths to the left and the right of the elevator gate.

A loud creak emanated from the gate as it opened and Pebbles dove back under cover. He could hear the spaced out *thump, thump, thump* of the vultures’ walk. It stopped for a moment, then continued. He focused so intently on listening that he had not noticed a pink lizard slide out of the vent. In the same moment he did notice, the thumping quickened. He pressed himself against the inner wall of the heater and watched as one of the vultures charged up to the lizard. It hammered it a couple times with its wing and carried it off in its mandibles. From the following walk pattern, it had not gone far before stopping, and returning to walking around.

Pebbles waited and waited, but the vultures never sounded as if they had left. The lizard hadn’t been taken far. Perhaps they had a nest nearby. Not good. More time passed, and he could hear it start to rain. Water pittered into the top hole on the heater. The vultures would have to retreat into their nest now. He would have a chance at the lift. He poked out of the heater, blinking as water spattered his face. He gaped.

The vultures were going back into the lift. The gate was closing. He bounded from his hiding place and towards the elevator. No. No. The gate shut a moment too soon. He scratched at the door. He needed to be in there. He needed to get to the top. He needed to get out of this wretched cage and find answers. He fell to his knees and banged on the cage door. “Please,” he breathed as the rain around him turned to bullets. “Please, open.” Every droplet stung. “Please.”

Darkness. Rain. Quiet.

There was no cessation of the recyclings repetition. To wake again was to try again. Try to fix where he went wrong. He did it all the same until he once again hid inside the busted heater. The moment the lizard slid out of the vent, he readied himself. Thump-thump-thump. While the vulture busied itself with the lizard, Pebbles leapt out of the heater and bounded towards the lift. But the other three were there, waiting. He dug his paws into the ground and gravel sprayed as he sprang forward, barely dodging one of the vultures’ wings. Yet seconds later another came down on top of him, knocking him into the ground. Mandibles. Fear. Death.

He was certain there was a limit to paracyclical death. The Ancients had done extensive research on the subject. Those dying from many a circumstance were questioned on their experience. How many times had they woken again? And then they took their final breath, and there were no more answers to be had. This research had reported a definitive limit, but Five Pebbles could not yet remember what that was.

He was getting used to waking again. He went on his route, ever faster than before, and yet still finding himself waiting at the foot of the lift. If he tried enough times, he would surely find a way past the vultures. Even if he had to recycle a thousand times.

This cycle he chose to gather data. Pulling himself to the top corner of the busted heater, he analyzed his surroundings. To the left was a passageway leading down to a lower level of the mine. To the right was a path leading up to what used to be a balcony. In front he could find nothing to hide behind other than the heater and a few large cords which supplied power to the lift. Walking up to the tall cage which encased the lift machinery, he wondered if it would be possible to climb to the top. It was a long way up.

The elevator door creaked open. Pebbles skittered to hide behind the power cords. He found a piece of rubble beside him and threw it in the direction of the path towards the lower level. He crouched as low as he could behind the cords and waited for the vultures to follow the sound of the rock. Two of them lumbered in that direction. Another went after the lizard. A shadow came over him. He froze. It picked him up in its mandibles. There was a tight squeeze, and Five Pebbles woke up again.

This time was different. That last death. The squeeze, the pressure, he could still feel it. Just beyond the burning in his lungs and the aching in his head, there was a heaviness in his chest. That’s when he knew he reached the limit. One more time and it was over. He would die in this state and be claimed by the Great Cycle.

Chapter Text

Re Cycle 4

On the floor of the shelter, Five Pebbles was somewhere between terror and ecstasy. His heart raced. His mind raced faster. What would happen when he died the next time? Would his theory still work, even if it was not at his own hands?

By design, he left the shelter and repeated the cycle. With his mind dizzied under the weight of the paracyclical limit, his body helped him move in self-preservation. He did not argue when it ate the batflies, when it grabbed the rebar, nor when it killed the mimic, nor when it threw him to the other side so as to escape the lizard. This time it did not abandon him as a ragdoll, but faithfully carried him to the door’s vent, so as to reach the lift once more.

There, looking up at the descending chamber, he had nothing to do but to decide. Even with the self-destruction taboo, it would not be hard to die. Even with great effort, it was much harder to keep living. The Ancients always emphasized being effortless. But would he finally be released? Would he truly ascend...?

The lift neared the bottom. Hiding behind the cables, he had mere moments to choose how he would gamble away his eternity. Trying to survive against his will (via taboo) and dying, or intentionally trying to live and (however unlikely) keep living.

He furrowed his brows. It wouldn’t work. There were too many variables. Sliver of Straw had shown him the way. He had to follow course, and the others would learn by his example. But here and now, this was not the way. Here and now, he had to live.

He swallowed hard, and as the elevator opened, he climbed the cable and jumped onto the side of the lift’s cage. A vulture noticed. Moments before its wing could smack him down, he climbed higher, just out of its reach. Still, the impact of wing against metal sent a resounding tremor through the cage. Pebbles clung to it for life. The vultures banged on it again and again, each time making it harder for him to hold on. Finally the lizard arrived, and their attention was diverted by easier prey. When the tremors subsided, he heaved a sigh.

He continued to scale the metal mesh, finding the gaps’ uniform dimensions easy purchase for each placement of his paws. There was a long climb ahead of him, but with each stroke made, the space between him and the top closed in. As this space decreased, the space between him and the ground increased. The pressure in his chest reminded him that he ought not look down. Down was death. How far didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his grip didn’t slip.

A strong breeze warmed his now trembling limbs. He pushed on, lifting one limb after the other. Progress stopped when he came to a large hole worn into the side of the mesh. Deep breaths took turns entering and leaving his lungs as he looked up, holding on for what felt a long moment. He glanced left and right. His mind mapped a way around the hole.

Sidling to the left, his movement slowed. He willed his arm to reach up. Tired, it resisted. Deep breath. He willed it again. Slowly, reluctantly, it reached up and grabbed hold of the next space. He pulled up and moved his leg to its next foothold. Everything ached. Everything shook. He didn’t think he could make it a step further. Lifting his other leg, he told himself he had to. If he couldn’t keep going, he couldn’t find the other iterator. If he couldn’t keep going–

His foot slipped. Bearing the full weight of his body, his weary hands let go.

He didn’t even remember hitting the ground.

He could hear the shelter groan. Feel the ache in his head. What a cheat it was to still be breathing. The pressure of impending death was gone. He remembered the rule. The rule of the limit. The rule was three consecutive deaths. Consecutive, being within the same cycle, occurring one after the other, resulting from the same cause. Two paracyclical, the last perma. Pebbles had only suffered two consecutive deaths from the vultures. His third had broken the pattern.

So long as he was cautious, he could survive. With the start of the cycle, Five Pebbles began to form a plan. Leaving the shelter, he grabbed the piece of rebar, but before entering the pipe to TC_04, looked around for another. It was an easy find, but trying to carry both into the pipe would hinder his movement. He took the first through, dropped it on the other side, and came back for the other.

In TC_04, Pebbles found himself weighed down trying to carry both, even outside the pipe. The lizard was already in pursuit before he could reach the first pole, and there was no way he was holding onto the pole and two spears. He thought fast, dropped one spear, and thrust the other straight ahead at the mimic pole. It missed and landed somewhere in the gap below. Feeling the lizard’s breath behind him, he grabbed the second spear and jumped. Mid-fall, the mimic reached for him, and without thinking, he threw the spear. The mimic was hit a tick before his feet touched the floor. It writhed in agony and disappeared into the ground. The lizard fell behind him. His gaze darted back and forth in search of the other spear.

Finding it, he stole a glance over his shoulder, then rushed to grab it. The lizard hissed and lunged for him. He whipped around with spear in hand. Heartracing, instinct told him to stab the lizard. He had to follow his mind this time. The lizard snapped at empty air as Pebbles hopped onto the pole and climbed. He didn’t have time to deal with this lizard. In this scenario, the other one was by far the more important variable. Climbing after him, the lizard snapped only a moment after he managed to push off the pole.

His mind was working faster, for the time between jump and impact seemed to slow just enough for him to position his body in such a way that it would roll starting from the shoulder and continuing across the back. Upon finishing the roll he utilized the momentum to rise to his feet and run as far as his body would allow before instinct abandoned him and he was left to stumble his way over to the vent the best he could alone.

He stood next to the door, leaning on his rebar spear. He faced the wall where the other lizard would emerge. He counted the seconds, willing his trembling to cease. What if his muscle memory didn’t return in time? He had to kill the lizard. Muscle memory or no, it was vital.

The lizard arrived, slinking its body out from a hole in the wall. Pebbles took a step back. “37, 38, 39…” he counted under his breath. The lizard moved towards him without hesitation. He took another step back, still counting, and considered retreating into the vent. But that would defeat the purpose. Why hadn’t the instinct returned yet? He could barely walk, let alone fight a lizard. A thought occurred to him. He had forgotten to eat.

There was neither time nor ability to move when the lizard lunged at him. He let go of the rebar, chose to go limp and fell to the side. The lizard loosely caught his left side in its’ jaws, biting down to secure its’ grip. Pain shot through his left shoulder. He gasped and the muscle memory returned. Searching the ground for the rebar, Pebbles took hold of it in his free hand and stabbed the lizard. It let go and he rolled away. He winced as his injured shoulder rubbed against the ground. Rising to his feet, crimson fogged his peripheral vision. Blood. His own blood, dribbling down his back. Nausea set in. He placed a hand on his shoulder. It felt a different kind of wet. The wound stretched across his shoulder blade and trickled to his tail.

The lizard looked better off than him, though with a spear stuck in its side. There was but a short distance between him and the lizard. It would not last long.

Pebbles took a quick breath and made the first move, going in for the spear. He barely dodged another snap from the lizard, leaping atop its back and pulling out the spear. It turned and he tumbled off. He rose and launched the spear at its now approaching face. With a *ching* the rebar ricocheted off the bright pink skull, flying into the air and landing somewhere behind him. A warbled hiss emanated almost like laughter from the lizard.

His heart beat like an Ancient drum. With each beat, blood pulsed out of his wound. He took several steps back, wincing as he looked over his shoulder to find where the spear had gone. He spotted it leaning on the wall in the room’s corner. He looked back at the lizard, turned, and ran. The lizard gave chase. Pebbles grabbed hold of the rebar and faced the lizard. It was then that he realized he had literally backed himself into a corner. The lizard’s frills quivered in hungry anticipation. It stepped forward, knocking Pebbles to the ground and pinning him with its feet. His heart beat so hard it hurt. Its’ claws poked into his skin. Its’ jaws dripped saliva onto his face.

His mind worked frantically for a way out. He was pinned to the ground, but his arms were free and spear still in hand. Looming over him, the lizard’s underbelly was exposed. He took the opening and stabbed the lizard. It was shallow, but effective. Pulling back the spear, a kind of blood fluid spilled forth. The lizard reared its head, lifting its’ weight just enough for him to pull away. As he did, its’ claws left stripes in his side. He cried out involuntarily and ran for the vent. His mind warned him it was the wrong choice. Yet his feet drove him on. He tried to compromise. Bridge the gap between mind and body. Told himself there was still time. If the lizard followed him–he didn’t want it to. But he needed it to follow him.

He reached the vent and started to crawl in when his mind took over. He became aware of his gasping. He was only trembling when the fight started, now he was shaking uncontrollably. He forced himself to take deeper breaths. He forced himself to look back–doing so almost causing him to vomit from the physical pain and stress. But there was nothing in his stomach. And looking back, he saw the lizard retreating.

A desperate focus claimed him. He couldn’t let the lizard leave. It’s back was turned to him. Now was his chance. He headed towards the lizard. With how he was shaking, he couldn’t risk throwing the spear and missing. He got close. He lifted the spear and drove it through the lizard’s back. It kicked. It died. He pulled the spear out and tossed it aside.

Pebbles focused now on his breathing, reassuring his body that it had done its’ job. There was another task ahead of him, but he tried to not think of it yet. Now, if he had remembered to eat at the beginning of the cycle, this might have not been so hard. If he didn’t eat soon, the next step would be much harder. But the batflies were two rooms away. The lizard watching from the poles blocked the path back. It was too much. Perhaps it would be easier to just die and redo the cycle. The thought was not appealing.

Looking back at the dead lizard, his stomach growled. His mouth watered. You must be joking, he thought, almost as though speaking to the little beast that he was trapped inside of. Between this and death, there was no better choice. He wiped away the tears he didn’t know had formed in his eyes. He knelt down next to the lizard. It was a lot easier to eat something small. There would be enough leftover, surely. But how was he supposed to–?

He put his mouth on the lizard’s slick scales and bit down. The surface was tough and difficult to get through. He awkwardly gnawed at it to no avail. Frustration welled up inside him. He stopped, found a spot where it had been stabbed, and tried for the raw flesh there. His teeth dug in. Warmth seeped into his mouth, along with a flavor that caused him to grimace. He yanked and held a managable chunk in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. This continued not much more till he was full. Lizard meat sat heavier in his stomach than fruit and batflies. It wasn’t comfortable, but with it he would have energy and strength. That is, so long as he didn’t vomit it later.

Wishing he hadn’t wasted so much time, Pebbles dragged the carcass with him through the vent. His body was weak and slow. It ached from its’ wounds. Soon, he would have answers. With that vague hope before him, as the elevator made its descent, he lugged the lizard up the path to the right. Towards the balcony. It was heavy and the task tiring. He only stopped once to catch his breath.

As he was nearing the top, the lift had reached the bottom and began to open. He willed his legs to move faster. If he were to be seen, it would be the end, and he would have to start all over again. He made it, and pulled both himself and the carcass as far back from the balcony edge as possible. He sat back and breathed out. In this moment he was grateful that everything was wet. It was always wet. Any possible blood trail would have diffused in the water, with most of it being where the lizard was first killed.

For a while, Pebbles just closed his eyes, sat, and breathed. All the while his ears listened for any change in sound. The *thump thump* of the walkers below seemed distant. Nearby he could hear the slow rhythmic drip of water. Much farther off was a faint and indiscernable frequency, blurred by the echos of creaking metal and chattering batflies. And for a second, he felt untouchable again.

The air changed, and he could hear a rumble. He could feel the humid breeze, and then the wet pellets that came with it. Pebbles opened his eyes. It was time. He peeked over the edge of the balcony, overlooking the bottom of the lift. The vultures were turning left and right, looking for food. If they weren’t so stubbornly staying by the lift, they might have gone off and found some. But now the cycle was coming to a close, and dejectedly they walked themselves back into the safety of the elevator. It began to shut.

Pebbles ran back to the lizard carcass and dragged it towards the edge of the balcony. “Hey!” he called for the vultures attention. They looked up. Two did not hesitate. *Thump thump thump* came the walkers running up the ramp to the balcony. The other two were still inside the lift. When the first were more than halfway to the balcony, he pushed the lizard over the edge. It landed with a hard splash. The others took the bait and squeezed out of the closing elevator, jamming one of the doors in the process.

Now there were two vultures behind him, and two ahead. Going back down the same way he came up was unsafe. He had to consider how well he would survive jumping from this height. There was little time. The rain was increasing. The elevator, though jammed, would sort itself out soon and shut. The walkers below had reached the lizard and, unable to communicate which would bring it back between the two of them, were tearing it in half.

He could feel the vibrations of the walkers behind him now. He had to jump. But where would he land? He took the risk and leapt over the edge, aiming for one of the walkers. Before he could hit the ground, Pebbles caught hold of one of the straps fastened into the walker’s back.  His momentum tore the strap down with him, and he landed unscathed on the floor behind the walker. A high pitched gargle of pain emanated from the creature. He let go of the strap, hopped to his feet and ran.

The hurt walker pursued him while the other busied itself with the lizard. Ahead, the elevator doors shifted back into place and began to shut once more. He wouldn’t make it in time. On the ground he spotted a piece of rebar, and with all his might he threw it. It caught, just between the doors. Pebbles slid his way through and into the lift. He grabbed and pulled at the rebar now. The walkers were just outside. They would soon push their way through. He tugged and tugged, his shoulder screaming in response. He gritted his teeth and with one last tug, fell backwards, the rebar clattering on the floor beside him. The elevator shut. The lift sealed. And for that moment, all was dark.

Dim green lights projected symbols on the walls of the elevator. They were familiar. He knew them to be Ancient letters. But for some reason, his head spun trying to read them. Maybe it was the blood loss. With no more immediate danger, he turned his attention to the shoulder wound. Crouching in the faint green glow, he could hardly see it.

The lift began to shake violently. Pebbles looked up. Muffled pounding surrounded it and rapidly grew in volume. His eyes widened. Was it the walkers? No. It was the rain. Surely it was safe here. It was like a shelter. Another Living Block. Bigger, yes, but surely it was safe. Otherwise the walkers wouldn’t have used it. He tried to calm himself with this rational, knowing he needed to rest, but for a long time the ceaseless shaking kept him on edge. He lay down and curled into a ball in an attempt to shut it out. The ache in his shoulder grew, and with the pain distracting from the sensation of shaking, he fell into a fitful slumber.

Chapter Text

Cycle 5 ~ Distribution Center

When Five Pebbles woke, the shaking had stopped. The elevator gate opened before him to reveal that he was at the top. He had left the mines behind. He had escaped The Cage. He tried pushing up with the support of his arms but found something was off. His left arm was numb from shoulder to fingertip. With one arm, he crawled to the side of the lift and propped his back against the wall. Placing his right hand on the left shoulder, it felt cold. The blood had hardened like a rubbery casing, sealing off the former cycle’s wound.

He tried moving his fingers, closing and opening his left fist repeatedly. Though unfeeling, his arm responded to the signals from his brain.  It was still attached. It was still functional. That was a good sign. Next he tried to restore feeling by rotating his shoulder. There was negligible movement. With his right arm he took hold of his left and tried forcing the rotation. Pain sliced through his shoulder. His body tensed up, letting go. His vision blurred. He felt the urge to vomit.

The pain subsided and his vision cleared. Numbness returned, accompanied by only an echo of pain. He had yet to recall what his current organism was, so he could only hope this was its way of healing. He resolved to let it be. Until his condition improved, he would have no use of his left arm.

Wonderful .

He heaved and, pressing his back to the wall, pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled forward, uncertain whether or not his body was ready to support its own movement again.

Stepping out of the lift, Pebbles began to take in his new surroundings. It wasn’t too different from the mine below, in that it was filled with conveyor belts, funnels, and the like. Only it was much more. Pipes and belts and labels and lights lined the floors and walls and decks; all were inoperative, aside from a staggered string of lights that went down the center aisle. Rubble and rusting wheelbarrows were piled along the sides of the aisle as though to suggest this path were the only option. Paired with the repurposing of the walkers, Pebbles wondered if this was indeed the intent.

It wasn’t so much necessity as it was curiosity that took Five Pebbles down the center aisle. Halfway down the aisle, everything came under the shelter of a roof. The darkness made him uneasy. He half-began to imagine there was something in the shadows waiting for him. He moved quicker from light to light, faster down the aisle.

He reached the end where stood a closed gate. Little skylight entered through grates at the top and bottom. Yellow symbols projected across the gate. More Ancient letters. Pebbles stared at the letters, but to his frustration, he could not make out what it read. Wasn’t it plain as rain? The familiarity of the letters was at the edge of his consciousness, yet not close enough to grasp. The longer he stared, the more his head started to hurt. It started to spin. He looked away. Surely reading would come easier after eating.

Something moved behind him. He grabbed a piece of rubble, spun around and chucked it. There was a split second of light. The rubble clattered on the ground. Nothing was there. Nothing but the dripping of water. Still, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the blood pulsing in his ears. Lifting his right hand to one of the ears, he tried to rub away the odd sensation.

Something moved again. Pebbles turned, but in reaching down for rubble, pain shot through his injured shoulder. He gasped and fell over, onto the floor. He couldn’t move. Something was definitely there, in the corner of his vision. He was certain he would be dead. Nothing happened. The pain subsided, and he looked up and stared. An overseer stared back.

With difficulty, he rose to his feet, cradling his left arm in his right. This overseer was different than the first; white body with a green gradient, yellow holographic arrows around its eye. And unlike the first, it didn’t leave. It blinked around a bit, examining him, before returning to hovering in front of him. It seemed as though it were waiting on him.

It had been a while since he had communicated with anyone, and he didn’t know who this overseer belonged to. He wasn’t entirely sure how to interact. “Can you…” Pebbles found himself choking on the words, “...help me?” They couldn’t possibly know he was an iterator. If he could at least reach their chamber, he would decide then whether or not they needed to know.

A green light flashed from the overseer’s eye before it turned to project various images into the air. Blue fruit. A train crossing. A superstructure. An iterator puppet.

“Yes! Take me to your iterator!”

The overseer turned towards the gate. Pebbles walked up to the gate and placed a hand on it. The projection against the gate flashed red, interchanging between letters and a symbol. Looking at them, his head spun and he nearly toppled backwards. He shut his eyes and turned away. Opening them again, he found the overseer simply watching him.

“On second thought, do you know where I can find food?”

The overseer paused to process before blinking away. For a moment, Five Pebbles thought it had gone, until he rediscovered it a short distance to the left, projecting an Ancient glyph and then an image of blue fruit interchangeably. It clicked into place that the glyph it was using meant “consumption” or “food”. This was a relief. The rest of the letters would come easy.

The overseer pointed him down a path left of the gate. He followed it to a large storage container, the inside of which was void of any light. He stood outside listening for hidden danger. The overseer blinked itself inside and illuminated the walls with a large grid projection, ensuring that it was safe. When Pebbles stepped inside, the overseer directed its projection over a teardrop shape that hung from the ceiling.

He lifted his hand up towards the fruit, but it was out of reach. He considered jumping, but didn’t want to risk jostling his injury. He narrowed his eyes, looking back at the overseer in complaint. The overseer projected a recording of a creature, not unlike the one Pebbles found himself to be, throwing a rock at fruit to dislodge it from its vine. He took the advice and carefully bent down to take up a piece of rubble. With it he knocked the fruit loose.

Any gratitude was quenched by a friction within. He should have figured it out himself. The solution had been simple. It didn’t matter that he had no connection with his superstructure. He was an iterator, so why-

The overseer blinked away, leaving him in the dark. He scrambled for the fruit and took leave of the container. Eating the fruit, he followed the overseer’s lead to a batfly nest. This time he did not need its help to figure out what to do. He immediately picked up bits of rubble and threw them at the batflies. He ate his fill and confidently made his way back to the gate. He should be able to read without a problem now. He would figure out the gate’s requirements and pass through. For a short time he would let the overseer be his guide, but he would not depend on it.

Arriving at the gate, Five Pebbles was absolutely baffled. A full stomach made no difference. The letters blurred together like meaningless lines. They taunted him with their flashing red. Illiterate. The lowest level of educational status. He could not bear the thought of that word applying to him. He knew how to read since the moment he was made. He did not need anyone to teach him. He was the teacher. He was the master. He was the god. So why could he not read?! Was this base creature’s primitive brain funneling his near-infinite knowledge? Letters of all things! Mere letters!

Pressure welled-up in his skull as he tried to make sense out of even one letter. In the corner of his eye, he saw the overseer staring at him. His face felt hot. He tried harder with the Ancient text. His head hurt. His face felt hotter. The overseer tilted itself to the side, as though confused. Pebbles turned and snapped, “If you’re so impatient, why don’t you tell me what it says?”

The overseer brought up a projection of an ID drone.

His eyes widened. “There has to be–Isn’t there another way out?”

It paused to process, before wagging its eye side to side in response.

His legs faltered and he fell to his knees. He chuckled weakly. There was no chance of finding an ID drone—no chance of finding an identification device of any kind here. He was trapped. He held his head in his hand and sighed. For what had he fought so hard?

A sharp buzz sounded from the overseer, garnering his attention. It tweaked. A second later its eye flashed a frenzy of colors before projecting another image.

The image appeared to be an image of an image, partially corrupted and difficult to make out. Every second, different portions swapped between the image itself and static of lines and squares, but within a minute Pebbles figured it out. Though mostly silhouette, it was enough to know it was an image of a small creature. It was facing away so only its back side could be seen. He recognized it to be the same as him, only a different hue, and in its left shoulder blade was embedded (there was no mistaking it) an active ID disc.

“Where is this?” he demanded. “Is this creature here? Now?”

The projection spazzed out and was replaced by several images the overseer had taken of Five Pebbles. He cringed to see himself the way he was now, but was drawn to the image it had taken of his back side. The scab on his shoulder stretched across the shoulder blade, covering the same location as the other creature’s ID disc. In that same spot, there was a disc shaped protrusion.

Had there been an identification device on him this entire time? How curious. If there really was something there, it must be inactive, for had it been active he would have noticed it. Now it was grown over by the rubbery casing. It was useless to him this way, but if he could expose it, and have the overseer reactivate it... He realized that meant cutting open his wound.

The thought sent his heart racing. It would hurt. It would definitely hurt. Was there some way he could anesthetize it? What if opening the wound caused him to bleed out? What if there was no ID disc? He swallowed hard and took deep breaths. Calm down, calm down, he told himself. He considered his options. He could follow the overseer’s advice–it seemed to know far more about this situation than he did–or he could reject everything it had shown him and erratically try to find his own way out. The second option was sickeningly familiar. The only logical course of action was the first.

He turned to the overseer. “Did you have something in mind?”

The overseer showed Five Pebbles around the corner to a room full of machinery, likely used in former times for sorting and packing. It pointed him up to a conveyor belt lined with resource dividers (some vertical, some horizontal). The rectangular edges were still sharp after uncounted years of disuse.

He stood next to one. All he had to do was press his shoulder into it and slide up or down. It would be easy, if it weren’t for the memory of pain. The anxiety that came with it. He’d rather focus on how fast he moved, how deep he needed to cut. Unfortunately, his organism did not afford him the luxury of filtering his thoughts.

Pebbles faced his back against the blade, and paused. The overseer stared as he stood there, paralyzed. It bobbed its head up, and then down, as if simulating the action needed to be taken. It did this a few times before he shouted, “I know! I know! I–Give me a moment.” He tried to imagine himself doing it. Over and over again he imagined it, but his body refused to move.

As he stood there, breathing deeply, the overseer blinked away. Within seconds, its light was seen zipping back, across the ceiling, and onto a loose-hanging chain overhead. On the chain, the overseer repeated its bobbing action. The chain hung right above the divider.

“Are you suggesting I fall across the divider?”

The overseer nodded before zipping away and back to his side.

Pebbles sighed. It wasn’t a bad idea. He wouldn’t have to think so much about falling as he would pushing his back into the blade. He hopped atop an adjacent conveyor belt. As he looked back at the chain he realized he could only hold on with his right arm. Good. The weaker the grip, the easier the fall.

He jumped onto the chain. His arm grabbed hold of it and he was sure he would slip, but his feet found purchase, granting stability. It swung back and forth slightly before settling back in place over the divider.

He made sure his back was positioned properly. He looked down at the blade, then at the overseer, then to his hand and legs on the chain. There was no going back. Only forward. He looked down. His heart beat hard. He told his body it needed to let go. The creature clung to the chain, unwilling to obey.

The overseer zipped its way onto the chain and positioned itself close to his face. He looked into its eye and said, “I-I can’t let go.” Its eye widened and its nerve endings started to spark. It stretched towards Pebbles’ hand and with a *zap* shocked it. He let go and fell, his shoulder cutting right across the blade. He cried out and all went black.

When he awoke, the air smelled of rain. He lay flat, face down on the conveyor belt. His head hurt so bad he thought it was going to explode. In seconds he realized it wasn’t just his head that hurt. The pain was from his shoulder, spreading across his spine and to every other connected body part. It burned. Where was the overseer?

There was a bright hum, followed by three consecutive beeps. The overseer bent over from behind him. Its nerve endings had a fading brightness that was evidence of it activating the ID disc. It projected the symbol for shelter with an arrow beside it. Pittering raindrops could be heard across the ceiling. He had to get up. He had to go.

He rose shakily to his feet. The overseer led him to the gate. It would take a while for it to open. “Isn’t there a shelter on this side?”

The overseer displayed an image of the elevator.

“Nevermind,” he muttered. Going backwards was not an option. Pebbles approached the gate. He didn’t have a second to wonder if the ID disc would work before the gate promptly began to close the half behind him. Moments later, the half in front of him parted to reveal his escape.

Across an open courtyard sat a train. The crossing lights blinked back and forth and the wheels were starting to turn. The overseer zipped ahead and pointed its directed shelter sign towards the train. He ran out after it. The rain quickened, distorting the distant lights. He was breathing quick shallow breaths. With each breath, the burning in his shoulder worsened. The rain did nothing to cool the pain.

With each bound made the overseer moved on ahead, continually pointing the way. He nearly tripped when the overseer zipped back and pushed him up with its head. By the time they made it to the train it was picking up speed. Train car after train car had passed. A couple more passed by when he gritted his teeth and jumped onto the next car.

He barely caught the bottom rung of the side ladder and heaved himself up to stand on it. Clinging to the sidebar, Pebbles spotted the overseer through the rain, at the back ledge of the car. He climbed up the ladder with difficulty, the rain making it hard to hold on, and the sheer size of the ladder requiring him to reach up with his entire body to clear a single rung.

Once up the ladder, he flattened himself against the side of the train, his sluglike body helping hold him to it. The overseer pointed to a particular spot on the back of the train car, and without question Five Pebbles moved to it, found a hole, and pushed himself inside. He stepped out of the pipe, into what he could only assume to be the interior car. It was dark and everything shook. He went in as far as he could before reaching a wall.

He slumped down next to it. He panted hard. His shoulder was on fire. Glancing over his shoulder he saw a faint glow. He heard a low whining sound, steadily growing in volume. Turning his body, he couldn’t find where it was coming from. He put a hand on his shoulder for a second. He pulled back. It was searing hot. The sound. The glow. The ID disc. It was malfunctioning. It was going to explode.

He ran back in the direction of the entrance. A faint click was heard from it, as a shelter about to close. “Not yet, not yet,” he huffed. He pulled at the torn flesh on his back, trying to grasp the ID disc. It burned and his hand kept pulling away, still he kept forcing it back. Finally he gripped the beveled edges of the disk and yanked hard. It burned, it loosened, but it didn’t come out. He tried once more and, with a scream, tore it free.

His body threatened to black out. He focused on the burning item in his hand and pushed his way back out. The rain pounded like a boulder on his neck. He strained forward, reached his arm out, and threw the disc. Using his legs against the sides of the pipe, Pebbles pulled himself back inside. A massive *bang* shook the car. His body shot across the room, hit the wall, and fell into the mercy of sleep.

Chapter Text

Cycle 6 ~ Perpetual Loop

Five Pebbles heard breathing, followed by a high pitched whine. It came from him. He opened his eyes and flinched at the light coming in. For a moment he stopped breathing, choked on the pain in his shoulder, before letting out another whine. Opening his eyes wider, at first all was a blur of light and shadow. His eyes adjusted and shapes came into focus.

He was inside the train car. There was nothing about the interior that told him this, other than the form of the ceiling and walls. Everything else was a mess of rubble and growth. It was surprisingly bright, with light coming in through thin slats that had opened on one side.

He narrowed his eyes, wanting relief from the pain. Wouldn’t it have been better if he had died? He tried to curl up where he was on the floor, but any movement across his back muscles left him gasping. He was scared to move. He was scared to breath. A familiar light zipped through the ground towards him. Popping up was the overseer from yestercycle.

“Make it stop.” Pebbles huffed. “Make it end.”

The overseer only stared, then projected the glyph for food.

“Everything hurts... It hurts more to–move.” On the last word, another sharp pain shot through his back. He reached to hold his shoulder when he discovered the severe burns on his hand. Another gasp escaped him. His arm trembled as he lay it back on the floor.

The overseer projected an arrow up, and then another glyph for food.

He heaved. “I–CAN’T–MOVE.”

The overseer stayed for a moment. When Pebbles looked up again, it was gone.

The cycle went on, and he lay there. Every now and then there was a bump in the train’s movement, jarring his wounds. His mind was consumed with the idea of relief. The light dimmed, and the pain dulled just enough for him to recognize the hunger in his stomach. More time passed and the hunger grew. It became darker. The car-shelter would close soon. Maybe he could sleep again, and all the pain would go away. But then he would wake up starving. He moaned.

Mustering what strength he could, Pebbles gritted his teeth and pushed to his feet. Leaning against the wall, his body cried out in pain. He needed to eat. Where was the food? Where was the overseer? Standing was one thing. Walking was another. Leaving this room was an impossibility. The train jumped once again. It felt as though the wall had hit him, throwing him off his feet and back onto the ground. 

*Tap tap tap* came the sound of something else hitting the ground. Groaning, he looked across the darkening floor of the train car. Within arms’ reach was a blue fruit. He grabbed hold of it with his blistered hand and ate. After this, he noticed another one, a little further away. He crawled towards it and grabbed it and ate. In like manner, he found one more and ate. It was just enough to satiate the hunger.

Rain started to drum on the hull of the car. The slats closed and the room became pitch black. He could hear the shelter seal. The pain eased little by little, and sleep overcame him.

Cycle 7

He woke, and everything burned again. In the light he could see a few more fruit were still on the ground. The overseer did not come around, but like yestercycle, Five Pebbles ate and slept.

Cycle 8

A jump in the train car jolted him awake. It was dark, and the sudden awakening combined with a large relief from his former pain left him confused as to where he was. The muffled sound of the wheels along the track caused him to remember. He had boarded a train with the help of the overseer. It was a wonder that the rails were still functional. There was an ache in his shoulder and a stinging in his hand, but it was not so debilitating so as to keep him from sitting up. 

He sat in the darkness and listened to the rhythm of the train. It must have been early in the cycle, since the shelter had not yet opened. Being sealed in, he felt safe. His organism seemed to be on the mend as well. He was grateful to be alive. How strange .

He pondered where the train was going. Likely to an iterator. The Ancients had no use for the rails anymore. Still, for an iterator to find a successful use for it in this era would be quite a feat.

Pebbles was about to go on with this train of thought when the slats began to shift open, letting in the light. The sealing mechanism clacked and groaned and opened with them. Taking a look at his hand in the light, the skin on his palm had turned charcoal grey and was peeling and oozing sticky fluid. He tried to look over at his shoulder but could barely see it beyond his peripheral vision. He would have the overseer show it to him later. This stirred the question: where was the overseer?

 With the condition his body was in, he couldn’t go looking all over the train for it. He had to find food. There were no more fruit in this room, though looking up he could see the tendrils from which they had hung. The ends were noticeably singed. Curiously resourceful, for an overseer.

With a deep breath, he rose to his feet and headed to the exit. His shoulder rubbed painfully against the sides of the passage till he reached the outside. Stepping out, he set his feet on the ledge of the train and his back against the hull. Wind rushed to his left and right as the train surged continually onward.

He stood at the back of the shelter-car, and before him was the car just behind. Its front portion was noticeably collapsed, but the majority still intact. The damage appeared to be from an explosion. The ID disc. It was amazing how the little bit of void fluid in such a device could cause this much destruction. He was glad to be rid of it. Even if it hadn’t malfunctioned, it would have complicated his recovery.

If the shelter-car had fruit in it, the others were likely to have some, too. He leaped from the ledge of this car to the one behind it. Peering into the rubble, he saw nothing of value and moved down to the back of the car. The next had a ladder on its front. He jumped to the ladder, caught hold of it, and slowly made his way up to the top of the compartment, wincing as he went.

At the top, a strong wind buffeted his body. He flattened himself against the roof so as to avoid getting swept away. Looking out over the top, he couldn’t see the end of the train. Just how far did it go?

On one of the car roofs in the distance, Pebbles caught sight of a familiar white-green noodle. The overseer. It was still here. It could still help him. He began to crawl forwards when he noticed moving shapes behind the overseer. Scavengers. They were known to hunt overseers for spite and sport. If they took out the overseer, his best link to the iterator would be gone.

The overseer was moving towards him, the scavengers following behind. Pebbles reached the back of the car, judged the distance between roofs, and jumped. The wind flung him across the gap to the very end of the next car, where he spun around and desperately grasped at the edge of the roof. He managed to scrabble up the side and flattened himself once again so that the wind would pass over him.

His shoulder ache had increased and he knew he couldn’t be moving around for much longer. He slowly rotated his body back in the direction he needed to go. Looking to the next car, he found that the overseer was already there. It projected a glyph with an arrow, pointing towards the scavengers a few cars behind. Pebbles recognized it as the Ancient glyph for “predator”.

“Yes, I know.” He made his communication brief. “Food?”

The overseer pointed to the car beneath him with a symbol of a batfly.

He gave a nod before crawling to the edge and sliding down the side. Like the shelter-car, this one had an entry pipe at the back. He crawled inside and squirmed his way through, hopping out of the pipe to find the interior car in far better shape than the shelter. There were shelves along the sides where calcite nests had formed, and a heater in the room’s center.

A trill emerged from one of the nests as a batfly swooped through the air. It was so complacent as to flutter towards Five Pebbles. All he had to do was reach out and grab it. His body had a strong instinctive grip. The batfly flapped in his hand for a moment before its life left it and it went limp. How easy it was for little things to die. He pushed the thought away and ate. More batflies came, and he ate. He had his fill and left the compartment.

The overseer waited atop the car, which Pebbles climbed before starting his way back towards the shelter. Looking over his shoulder he could see the scavengers were getting closer. He reached the front of the car. Not wanting to risk being at the mercy of the wind again, he slid down before hopping to the one ahead. He climbed up this car. When he looked over his shoulder again, he saw the scavengers a few cars behind. They were eyeballing him and the overseer. If they were to get any closer, he would need to have a plan.

He reached the front of this car, slid down, and hopped ahead to the next. It was the damaged car. He sidled past the intact back-half to the front. The overseer poked out of the rubble and looked towards the shelter. Pebbles took up a piece of rubble, carried it to the shelter-car ahead, and set it inside. He crawled back out.

Between climbing and pushing through pipes, his shoulder was really starting to burn. He could feel the viscous fluid dripping from it and down his back. He went to grab another chunk of rubble. Rubble in hand, he looked up to see the pack of scavengers on the back-half. Fortunately the overseer was nowhere in sight.

A few scavs had their eyes closed, buffeted by the wind, but the ones who watched him did not appear hostile. Cautiously, he backed away before turning to hop back to the shelter-car. He wriggled his way inside and curled up next to the bits he had collected. Moments later, the overseer poked out from the ceiling. Though early in the cycle, the Living Block assessed its occupant’s desire and sealed. It became dark, though faintly illuminated by the overseer’s glow.

Pebbles was suddenly drowsy, but he did not want to sleep yet.

“How close are we to your iterator?”

The overseer projected a static strewn map of the railway. There was no clear indication of where they were now, but he judged they were somewhere between what he assumed to be the mine, and a large block he considered to be a superstructure. The distance wasn’t that great. Surely they would be there in a cycle or two. Curiously, Pebbles examined other parts of the railway map. It was quite extensive, branching off to other regions with other superstructures. The layout wasn’t a bit familiar.

“Could you get a picture of my shoulder wound? I want to see it.”

The overseer zipped behind him and flashed its grid-light. It zipped back and projected the image. The quality was awful and the grid-light did little to make up for the darkness of the shelter. The only thing he could gather was that there was fluid oozing from a hole in his back where the ID disc had been.

Pebbles’ eyelids were drooping now. “Turn it off. Try again in the morning.” He closed his eyes, rested his head, and a feeling of quiet comfort overtook him.

Cycle 9-12

Five Pebbles spent the next few cycles eating, recovering, and getting used to living on the train. There were no more signs of the scavengers, but he always carried a rock with him, just in case. One cycle, as he sat atop one of the train cars, he asked the overseer again how much longer it would be to its iterator. It displayed the glyph for “five”. Five cycles. That didn’t seem right, according to the map it had shown him. Was this overseer’s iterator not the one closest to the mines? That was a valid possibility.

He sighed, and looking up, noticed something he hadn’t before.

The sky. It was veiled in clouds, but nonetheless it was vast and it was beautiful. He could see so much more now that he was out of the Cage. Some clouds were darker than others. Some farther up, some closer down. It was like a whole other terrain, mountains made of water vapor, layer upon layer, seemingly unreachable. And even now, so seemed his goal. But he had made it this far. The other iterator would not be much farther.

Chapter Text

Cycle 16 ~ Auburn Pallet

There was less than a cycle left to the iterator. Five Pebbles spent his time the same as usual. Follow the overseer along the train to the next source of food. Keep an eye out for scavengers. Head back. Sleep. Only this time, he never made it back to the shelter-car.

The batflies moved nests every other cycle, so he had to go further and further out to find them. He had gone seven cars away this time. Finished, he exited and climbed atop the hull. The typical rush of wind greeted him. But something about it had changed. The air. It was different.

The overseer blinked beside him. He wanted to ask if it, too, could feel the change. He couldn’t put it into words, so he didn't bother. It’s not like the overseer could feel anything anyways.

Prior to this cycle, the train had been bordered by not much more than wilderness and wormgrass. It had gone in and out of ditches and canyons and, rising out of the last, had finally come to some Ancient civilization. To his immediate left and right were farm arrays. Beyond that was housing, marked by an excessive amount of communications equipment.

He looked into the skies ahead. He expected to see something of the superstructure. Its thundering underhang perhaps, or at least its legs. Surely he’d see it soon. The train was moving at a tremendous speed. He hoped that towards the end of cycle he might catch a glimpse before going to sleep.

He turned to go back, performing a small jump off the roof’s edge to the next car roof. He learned this to be an efficient way of traveling across without getting flung by the wind. Looking to the other end of the car, his heart skipped a beat. There stood a couple of scavengers. Both were armed with spears. He glanced behind him at the overseer. One hit, and it would be gone.

He couldn’t let them hurt it. He held tightly to the rock he had been carrying for this very occasion. “Get to the shelter,” he told it. It blinked itself beside him. “What are you waiting for? Go!”

It hesitated before displaying the glyph for predator. 

“I don’t need the warning, I need you–” Pebbles froze as a spear whished past his ear.

“Behind me,” he spoke to the overseer. He knew the overseer was much faster than him. It could get away with ease, and he would only have to worry about himself. Why did it have to be so stubborn?

The scavengers did not appear hostile towards him. Their only target was the overseer. Five Pebbles launched the rock at the scavengers, hitting one in the head. The scav appeared stunned, fell back, and slipped out of sight behind the roof’s edge. The other scav backed away with wide eyes and spear raised. It clumsily tossed its spear, turned and–hopping to the car behind–scampered away.

Pebbles took up the spear and followed the scavenger. The overseer stayed close behind him. Slower than the scavenger, he had barely reached the end of the third car when the scav was preparing to jump from the end of the next. In haste, Pebbles made a jump too high off the roof. The wind picked him up and flung him across the next car. He swung around to stab the spear into the roof, kicking the scav straight off the side of the train. Holding fast to the spear, he fixed his feet back on the train.

It was unfortunate timing. Looking to the car behind, at least a dozen scavenger eyes were watching him. They had just been emerging from an entry pipe in the roof when Pebbles had knocked their pack member off the train. Every one that had a spear or rock lifted it in preparation to strike.

His spear was stuck in the roof. He ducked and a scav spear passed overhead. He hopped to the car, targeting the closest scav. Grabbing the spear in its hand he pulled to take it. The scav pulled back. Still holding onto its spear, he pushed the scav towards the edge of the roof. Pebbles lifted a leg and gave it a kick. The scavenger lost balance and let go, falling back and disappearing in a blur as the train rushed on without it.

Pebbles turned back to the scavengers. He barely lifted his spear when he was struck by a rock. He was stunned, let go of the spear, and slipped off the edge of the train.

The ground came fast and hard. The air left his lungs. *Thud thud thud thud* as he rolled violently across the railside gravel. He gasped for air. Took in the fresh stinging cuts and bruises. When able, he looked up from where he lay. The train was gone.

He rose to his feet and tried to grasp what had happened. No more train. No more shelter. No more overseer. No way to the iterator. He had lost it all.

He pushed down the despair that bubbled up inside. Deep breaths. Perception, perception. The rails were still before him. He had not lost his way. It would be harder, but not impossible. A thought intruded, bringing up the lack of shelter and the fact of rain. He pushed that down, too, and began his walk along the railway. It could not be much farther, he told himself.

Track over track he walked along the rails. He paid no mind to the passing noodleflies, the humming cicadas, the creatures in the surrounding fields. The longer he walked, the harder he fought against his own anxious thoughts. Surely he wouldn’t need the overseer. The closer he got, the more obvious the superstructure would be. Still he hadn’t seen it in the skies.

He walked faster. He would come across a shelter eventually. They were built in-between regions for the ease of messengers. But what if he had already passed the only one around? He could smell rain. He quickened his pace.

A steep hill came into view. He clambered up the side, spraying gravel as he went. As he reached the summit and looked up, in the distance he saw it. The superstructure. His heart beat hard in hope, then skipped a beat.

It was not in the air.

It was not erect on its legs.

It was on the ground.

Collapsed.

Maybe, maybe it was still operational. It appeared well intact. To say it wasn’t easy for iterators to die would be a great understatement. They could still–still help him.

He ran towards the superstructure as fast as he could. With its size, he hadn’t realized how far away it was. The closer he got, the more he saw just how big it was. How small he was. Before even reaching the superstructure, its wall completely blocked out the sky. He couldn’t see the top of it, nor the edges of its sides.

He started to slow. Drops of water fell from the sky. He pushed himself harder. Crawling through rubble and sprawlbush, he came to the bottom. He huffed and looked up for a way inside. The most suitable entrance was likely to be much higher. A ladder presented itself on an engine that was jutting out of the wall. Pebbles barely caught his breath before he set to climbing. A path of pipes and shafts and ladders carried him up. The rain’s intensity was slow to grow. Fearing the crushing weight to come, Pebbles took the first entrance he could find, not even half-way up the wall.

Once inside, his body seized, falling to the floor for need of a break. Move move! he screamed in his mind. He could hear the rain just outside. Within seconds it would pour in and kill him. A whine escaped between his heavy breaths. He curled up and braced himself for death.

His breathing slowed. The sound of the rain was steady. Water trickled from a pipe in the ceiling. It didn’t lessen. It didn’t grow. The roar he was accustomed to remained only a pitter-patter outside. He trembled and heaved. How far... how far...? Iterators were seldom built as close together as he and Moon. Letting logic back in, it made perfect sense. With this one no longer producing rain, the nearest other was near enough to make it sprinkle here, but not near enough to make it Rain.

He closed his eyes. The darkness of sleep was a welcome thought. Regardless, he could not sleep here. He had to see the iterator. Or rather, their puppet. That was the only way he’d be able to communicate with them. Whatever state they were in, they had to be better off than him. Even a fraction of their processing power would be enough. So he hoped.

He opened his eyes. He lifted himself off the ground and took in his current surroundings. The room was small. A maintenance ladder stretched above him. He climbed it one rung at a time.

Reaching the top, he stopped to catch his breath. A large shadow emerged from a crack in the wall. Pebbles stepped back instinctively. He caught a glimpse of the dark spines and wiry appendages before it slipped out of sight, as he slipped backwards, down the ladder passage.

He caught hold of a rung, the gravity of the fall tearing at his shoulders. A stifled gasp left him. Pulling up to his feet on the rung, he leaned against the wall of the ladder shaft. His heart beat hard at the remembrance of the shadow and the shock of the fall. Yet a moment later he pressed onward, back up the ladder.

At the top he peeked to see whatever creature had been there. Finding no sign of it, he pulled up and moved on. Everywhere he went, he searched for signs of life. There were no inspectors. No neurons floating about. Other than the echo of water drops and beasts skittering about in the dark, the superstructure was silent.

With the cycle’s end, any light that once permeated the structure faded. Pebbles was left in the dark. He no longer had a desire to sleep. He wanted answers. So he felt his way around. It was slow and difficult. One wrong move could leave him plunging to his death.

A scuttling sound came from behind. He moved forward faster. Arms outstretched, he felt another ladder, and set to climbing. The sound followed close. It was like a hundred legs tapping along the walls. He held his composure till he reached the top of the ladder. In the distance, something glowed ever so softly. He ran towards it and found what appeared to be a small drawing of an overseer, smeared on the wall with fire chalk. It was warm. Further along the wall was another glow of the same kind.

The scuttling sound from before was as though it were right behind. A sick feeling passed through him. He turned, and in the glow of the fire chalk he saw it. A thousand legs sprawling from a hundred little black bodies. Spiders, grouping together to form one massive coalescipede. A coalescipede of any size greater than any nearby creature had only one intent. Kill.

Pebbles ran. Having no other point of reference, he headed for the next fire chalk mark. Ahead he saw another. And another. So he ran from the coalescipede, following a path through the superstructure by the marks on its walls. Rounding a sharp corner, the coalescipede was getting closer. He fixed his eyes on the next mark. He tripped over unseen rubble. The legs of the beast tickled his neck as it reached for him. He shot up and kept running. Even pushing his body to its limits, he couldn’t outrun it for much longer.

He consistently had three marks or more in his sight, to know the way ahead. Now there were two. Now there was one. Now there were none. He had no time to stop. No time to think. He kept running. As he delved into the blackness, where he hoped to find floor, he found nothing.

There was the sensation of falling. The impact. A new smell. The coalescipede crawling over him. Nibbling at him. The sound of their legs along the wall, suddenly growing distant. Moments later there was nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing, and the curious smell.

Five Pebbles blinked in the darkness. The coalescipede had had him. Why hadn’t it killed him? Why had it left? Would it come back?

He turned about in the darkness and noticed a pile of tile-shaped rubble behind him, silhouetted by a warm glow. He lifted his aching body and carried it up the pile of rubble. Standing atop the pile, he stared into a room of even-tiled walls, ceiling, and floor. The source of the glow warmed his face, but what he saw sent a chill down his spine.

A motionless figure lay against the far side of the room, surrounded by pools of melting incense. Cloak, antennae, cables, rig. It was the iterator puppet, and this its chamber. The strong smell of incense evoked a feeling he couldn’t quite name.

“Hello?” His voice was so small, it barely echoed off the walls. She didn’t stir. 

Entering in, he drew near. He nudged her with one hand. “Please,” his voice was a breath. He put both hands on her shoulders and shook her. “I came all this way. Please.” He sat down next to her. He looked into her blue face. Her eyes were closed. He furrowed his brow. “Isn’t there still work to do?”

There had been a thought on the edge of his mind for some time now, that he had been walking through a corpse. But sitting next to her, the superstructure seemed nothing more than a box. It was almost as though only the puppet itself was what used to be someone.

His heart sank just as this superstructure must have some time ago. His tail curled around his feet, his arms around his legs, and he contemplated for a while. There was nothing left for him here. He still had so many questions. Even more so, now.

Five Pebbles didn’t know what to do. Where to go. This was where the overseer was leading him, after all. He didn’t know how far it was to another iterator. He didn’t know how much more he could take. Would not it be easier if he died? But the insatiable drive and the taboo pushed him on, like two cruel caretakers.

He wondered how this iterator died, and who she was. She wasn’t from his local group. She wasn’t Sliver of Straw. Had she been, there’d be some worth here yet. From a distance, she had reminded him of Looks to the Moon. Her skin was blue like Moon’s. In the light of the melting incense, her robe looked a bit like Moon’s. Of course her antennae were different, and in the place where Moon’s red sun would be, there was a white halo. Still, it scared him to imagine her in this situation.

He wondered who had put the incense here, and activated it. It seemed a crude replica of the Ancient incense he knew. There was something about the smell. He tried to find the right word to describe it. Old? Common? No. It brought back memories. Like the motion their hands made when the jar of fire syrup was tilted over the incense. The silent hours of prayer. It was... Nostalgic. The recipe for such a thing was so specific. Had they not all ascended, he couldn’t imagine anything else capable of recreating it. So why was it here? Why now?

His questions went on and on, reiterating the old and the new. Why was he here? How did she die? What came next? Without knowing when, he slipped away. And in the deep sea of sleep, he dreamed.

Chapter Text

Cycle 17 ~ Faded Sanctuary

Five Pebbles woke in a place dark and unfamiliar. He was sitting against a wall of dirt. He went to push off the floor when he noticed something. His hands. They were that of his puppet. And his bright orange sleeves. He was wearing his cloak. He lifted his hands to the sides of his head and felt his antennae. He tried to establish connection with his superstructure. Nothing came of it.

Before him, something shimmered and shone. It was golden, like Void Fluid. It stretched on and on as though it were the Void Sea itself, broken only by the distant black horizon. The fluid trembled and a head surfaced. Pebbles froze. A figure not unlike his own splashed about frantically before finding the shallows of the shore and slowly crawling towards him. It was a white puppet. She had an X marked on her forehead. It was Sliver of Straw. She was saying something.

“Triple Affirmative...”

She crawled out of the Sea, revealing her disintegrated back half. Void Fluid dripped from the corroding wires and neural tissue which trailed behind her.

“Triple Affirmative...”

His heart was pounding as she drew closer. He tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.

“Triple Affirmative!”

Her eyes were wild. Her face gaped open as though it had a mouth. She reached for him, and as she reached, so did the Sea.

“Help me!”

Five Pebbles jolted awake to find himself back in the chamber of incense. Back in the body of a creature he could not name. Sliver of Straw’s voice echoed in his mind. Was that a dream? It felt so real.

His heart was still beating hard when he turned to look at the blue iterator puppet, half expecting her to jump at him. Her face was serene, as before. Still, he looked away, diverting his attention to the ribbons on her wrists. Focusing on them calmed his racing heart.  Unlike the rest of her garb, they were pristine. They were part red, part white, as though the dye had not been given time to set.

Paired with the incense and marks of chalk, this whole scene would have been interesting to investigate, had he been able to do so from his own can. He did not want to spend another moment inside of a dead iterator. It made him feel like an Echo.

His stomach grumbled. A good excuse to leave. He got up and headed towards the pile of rubble. He had no intention of coming back. Oddly enough, he had the urge to turn and say, “goodbye.” He whispered the words under his breath, not understanding the pang of loss he felt for someone he never knew.

Climbing over the pile of rubble, he saw the ladder shaft he had fallen down. At the foot of the ladder blinked the green-white overseer.

“You.” Pebbles narrowed his eyes. “All this time, you were just a dejunct overseer, leading me to your exhaustively incapacitated iterator. What did you think? That I was somehow going to revive her?” He moved past the overseer and hopped up the ladder, climbing from the sidebar.

At the top, the overseer blinked beside him. He ignored it and looked to follow the glowing marks of chalk. He should’ve known better than to trust a strange overseer for guidance. He would find another iterator himself.

He moved his hand along each mark that he passed. Some were drawings, others were Ancient letters. It was too small, too clean to have been done by scavengers. Judging by the lifespan of active incense, whoever it was that made these marks couldn’t have been here more than a few cycles ago. To think that something else intelligent was not far away made him feel less alone. If only he could understand the letters.

His hand came across one that struck him like lightning. He could read it. Moving to the next set of glyphs, he could read those too.

Dim sunlight began to permeate parts of the fallen superstructure.

As he moved along the steady path he found he could read almost every glyph. They were scattered, disjointed, and had no collective formation. There were glyphs like “red”, “pilgrimage”, “quiet”, and “play”. However, among all the glyphs, one particular set kept repeating. It read, “five pebbles”.

He followed the marks till they split off into different paths. He chose the path with the brightest marks and followed it to a busted open gateway. Entering in led him to what he gathered was this iterator’s ruined city.

Few recognizable buildings still stood. Many more were toppled over, or reduced to complete rubbish. In imitation of the city’s excessive communications equipment, lighthouse flowers grew everywhere.

Along the lower parts of the buildings, the chalk marks continued, transitioning solely to numbers. Walking through the city might have brought a sense of wonder. To walk where Ancients once walked. What history, what culture could he glean? But far more interesting to him now, were the glyphs.

The path ended at the foot of a communications array. Its mast stretched so far into the sky he could not see the top. Written at the bottom of its mast was a complete series of numbers. The numbers flashed through his mind before he even finished examining it. He breathed out. It was no coincidence. The series belonged to one of his own broadcast instruments. Here in this place, someone was trying to reach him.

Five Pebbles began to climb the mast. The communications array would cease to function following the death of the iterator. If they had managed to send a message, the evidence would be near the top. Had he not received it then, there was still a chance he could receive it now.

The maintenance ladders were well intact, making it easy to climb. This was good, because it was a very long climb to the top. He was nearly there when his muscle memory gave out, leaving him falling over a ledge. He landed just below on another platform, sticking out barely enough to catch him. Taking deep breaths he waited for his body to recover before climbing again, this time to the top.

Pulling up the last step, he stood in the shadow of the central dish aerial. Below the major aerial branch was a blue pearl. Picking it up, he found that it was still warm. It was just as he reasoned. Now, for the message.

He tried to read it. He tried again. He could not interact with it beyond holding it in his hand. He realized with a pang that he lacked the equipment. Even Ancients had pearl audits installed. But as of this moment, Five Pebbles did not.

He gritted his teeth. Coming here had brought him more questions than answers. His blood boiled. Was it all for nothing? His chest felt tight, his heart strangled. He heaved. The pressure welled up inside him and he chucked the pearl over the edge. It fell somewhere far out of sight.

He looked out from atop the mast, powerless. Helpless as the clouds in the breeze. He looked down. He considered throwing himself off. He’d only recycle twice. And the third time–

Thunder cracked in the distance.

He looked up. In the distant clouds, there was a powerful flash of green. An underhang. A superstructure. Looking all around, though far off, there were others. His throat tightened. His eyes stung. He swallowed hard. For the second time that cycle, he felt a little less alone.

After the long climb down, it started to rain. It rained softly, as yestercycle. Amid the mist and fog, Pebbles searched diligently for the pearl he had thrown. Soon, it was raining too hard to see.

He shivered. It was colder than the rain he knew. Though there was no imminent danger, he sought shelter in the shadows of an Ancient slum house. There were a few fruits growing here, and he remembered his gnawing hunger. These were barely enough to fill him. He ate, and curling up with a sigh, closed his eyes and slept.

Cycle 18

The next cycle, Five Pebbles rummaged through the rubble again for the pearl. He cursed himself for being foolish enough to throw it. In the search, he found some batflies and ate. Towards the end of cycle it started to rain. He was about to give up when the pearl presented itself in the folds of a sail, hung between two buildings. He climbed the side of one and, from a window ledge, shook the sail. The pearl loosened and fell from its place. He returned to the ground below to retrieve it.

Holding it in his hands once again, there was little relief. He had a long journey ahead of him. It would have to wait till next cycle, however. Pebbles searched for where he had rested before. With the rain pouring down, he found it difficult to tell where it was. At this point, any cleft would be fine. He was moving towards such a one when the ground beneath him collapsed.

A moment later, he was at the bottom of a pit of rubble, pinned down by a metal beam. The narrow cavity began to fill with water. The beam lay heavy against his back. He struggled to breathe. The water reached his mouth. He did what he could to turn his face upwards, away from the water.

He wriggled faintly under the weight of the beam. Feeling that he had made some progress, he wriggled some more. The water was up past his nose now and he had to hold his breath. He wriggled once more, letting out whatever air was in his lungs, before popping out from under the beam. His head broke the surface and he took deep breaths.

The water levels seemed to decrease. He looked around for the pearl, as it was not in his hands. There was a hole under the beam where he had been. The water was draining into the hole. Not finding the pearl, he panicked. Had it gone into the hole? He held his breath and poked his head underwater. He reached into the hole and found no bottom to it. The edges felt like that of a pipe shaft. The current tried to pull him in with it, but the beam was blocking half the entrance.

Five Pebbles went up for air once more before going back down to see if he could wriggle his way into the pipe. He pushed in, feeling his sluglike body squish to fit between beam and hole. He made it halfway inside when the thought of getting stuck again sent his heart racing. He pushed harder, squeezing past the beam and into the pipe.

He barely needed to move as the current sucked him through. Where it was going he didn’t know. He only hoped the pearl was at the other end. Air, too.

The muffled sounds of the pipe broke with a splash. The pipe spat Five Pebbles out into a dark room, somewhere within the superstructure. He coughed and sucked in air. He could see nothing. Hear nothing. Nothing other than the sound of water trickling from the pipe.

He crawled along the floor, feeling for the pearl. At the edge of the pooling water, he found it. With how far he had to go, he couldn’t lose this. A scuffling sound was heard. His ears perked up. There was something in the room with him. He turned back to the pipe, which was still spilling water. There had to be another way out.

He backed away from where he thought the scuffling sound was coming from. He expected to hit a wall, but there was only emptiness. How large was this room? The sound moved. It was above him. He moved quicker before breaking into another blind run.

There were no marks here to guide him. All he had was fear of what was behind him. There came a familiar smell. It was faint. He hit a wall, felt a turn in the path, and kept running. Behind him was the sound of something being shot or spat. His surroundings began to take shape, as some distant light diffused along the walls. The creature spat again. Pebbles felt something pierce his back. He stumbled and fell, releasing the pearl.

Glancing behind him, he saw a huge spider with fuzzy red spines. It was coming fast. Looking ahead, there was a shaft in the floor. He crawled towards it. His head started to spin. He pulled himself just outside the opening when his muscles tensed up. He lost feeling in his limbs. He tried to shake it off, or push past it, but within a couple seconds his entire body went limp. The nostalgic smell flooded around him.

Through his half-shut eyes he watched the spider fall from the ceiling. It dragged itself towards him. It drew near, close enough to carry him off in its fangs. It stopped and recoiled. Five Pebbles watched as it backed off faster than it had approached. Within a moment it was out of sight.

Feeling was slowly restored to his body. He grabbed the pearl and pulled himself into the shaft, falling into the room below. With the returning strength, he rose to his feet, enveloped in the bright warm glow of incense. He was back in the iterator’s chamber.

This was the second time he nearly died upon arriving here. Perhaps it was the incense that deterred the spiders. Fitting, that they should not defile this fading sanctuary.

The cycle was well into its end. Five Pebbles removed the paralyzing dart from his back and tossed it onto the floor before settling himself across from the iterator puppet. Next cycle he would start his long journey. He would find another iterator. They would read the pearl to him. They would help him make some sense of his situation.

He curled around the pearl and gazed at the lifeless puppet. The red-white ribbons around her wrists had faded entirely to white. “Where are you now, stranger?” he murmured thoughtfully before sinking into dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

1652.770 - PRIVATE, ENCRYPTED

W[][][][][][] f[][] S[][][][] to T[][][][][][][] A[][][]

WfS: I've b_en worki_g on a new _xperime_t.

WfS: It ma_ not be sa_e, but I ca_’t say it’_ any more _angerou_ than wha_ we’ve bee_ doing.

WfS: I kno_ it may be _ome time _efore yo_ receive _his. I’m go_ng to see _qua.

WfS: She h_sn't acce_ted my sh_pments f_r severa_ laps. No o_e has bee_ able to c_mmunica_e with he_.

WfS: Mayb_ she has w_at she ne_ds. Maybe _he has fo_nd herse_f in simi_ar endea_ors as us.

WfS: Grad_ent Unit_ has expr_ssed his _oncern. I _romised _’d check u_ on her.

(old, encrypted version)

1652.770 - PRIVATE, ENCRYPTED

[][][][][][][] [][][] [][][][][] to [][][][][][][][] [][][][]

[][][]: J'bj d[.]lu wpxpk[.]n vn b tjy [.]ewesorg[.]a.

[][][]: Jz rc[.] uvt ck xc[.]l, iuu O hc[.]’a zaz oy’[.] cuf mpxj [.]cunesuz[.] vohn xnf[.] yl’ce ckj[.] fvpnh.

[][][]: J qsq[.] pa mbe gg [.]vte uorg [.]lmosk dq[.] ylcfoag [.]ops. J’s lq[.]un tp yjg [.]xba.

[][][]: Tnj j[.]zu't bihg[.]ald ne xj[.]wteozx h[.]y zewkwc[.] shpt. Tt q[.]l oat hjg[.] hilf zt e[.]ttuoohc[.]l diun mg[.].

[][][]: Ngdd[.] zoe igx y[.]ha sik sg[.]kz. Mbegg [.]ol hby kq[.]uk hfxxg[.]m pn tork[.]hy eojjc[.]vys by zu.

[][][]: Hxff[.]lut Vtnv[.] ohs fdut[.]zzee nnu [.]vucfxs. K [.]yvmjyjf [.]’k jhfip w[.] vu hfx.

Chapter Text

Cycles 19-24

Emerging from the fallen can with the blue pearl in hand, Five Pebbles moved into the surrounding farm arrays. He couldn’t see the other superstructures from where he was, but he knew which direction to head to the nearest. He remembered the railway, as well as the vague map provided by the overseer. Following the tracks once more, past the Faded Sanctuary, he knew it would bring him to an iterator eventually. He only ever strayed to find food and shelter.

Cycles 24-32 ~ Verdant Highway

Cycles passed. Auburns and greys transitioned to vibrant reds and greens. A region composed of new growth upon an old brick highway stretched before him. The tracks went on. He reached what might have been another rail station, much older than that at the mines, and stood in its shade as the sky wept softly. He waited for a while, hoping perhaps a train might come.

In the gloom, a familiar white-green noodle sprouted beside him. He glanced at it through narrowed eyes and went on his way. Not far out into the rain, it reappeared before him. He placed the pearl down for a moment, found a brick, and launched it at the overseer. The overseer, avoiding impact, blinked away. Pebbles looked around before reassuring himself that it had left. He picked up the pearl, and proceeded.

The next cycle, the rails carried up a steep incline and then walked along the surface of an elevated road. Vines climbed overarching trellises. Rusting cranes bordered the paths, still carrying bricks and beams in their slings. This path became particularly dangerous, as certain holes in the road would drop him straight to his death, and vultures were abundant.

Not to mention the introduction of some kind of spinning flora.

He had never seen this organism before, so at first he was curious. Its large multi-color leaves swept up and down and across the surface of the highway, obviously purposed for clearing away any possible obstruction. However, they were without a care as to what it was they swept over the edge. He recycled more than once over the next several cycles. He nearly lost his pearl twice as many times.

With a stroke of ingenuity and a spear, Pebbles decommissioned one of these pinwheels, repurposing its leaves into a slingbag to carry his pearl in. The leaf structure would only last 2-3 cycles before deteriorating, when he would have to make a new one. It was tedious, but freed up his hands to deal with avoiding vultures and clearing gaps. Hiding in the shade of a trellis and mapping out routes became a cycle-to-cycle activity, aside from finding food and killing pinwheels.

Cycle 33

A rumble woke him. He was in a shelter between the bricks and beams of the highway’s surface. But it wasn’t the groaning of the shelter that roused him from his sleep. His ears perked up, listening intently. The rhythm of the rumble was that of a train. He left the shelter and poked out of the ground. Light morning rain pecked his head. Looking at the tracks behind, there was indeed a train.

Pebbles climbed out of the shelter. It was coming fast. Not too fast, he hoped, that he might be able to hop on. He stepped to the side of the tracks, trying to judge the distance and speed. It was getting close. Closer.

He was sprayed with a burst of mist as the engine rushed past. He took a few steps back and stared wide-eyed as car after car flew before him. All was a blur. There was nothing solid to latch onto. Still, he couldn’t let this chance pass by.

With a sprint, he hurled himself at the train. He reached out a hand for anything to grab hold of. He was met with a loud pop. Before he knew it, he was lying on the side of the highway. His breaths came short and shallow. Blood dripped down his head. He shivered uncontrollably. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, the cycle had reset. Repeating the cycle as before, the train whooshed past. This time, he climbed one of the nearby cranes. He positioned himself over the top of the train. Holding tightly to his slingbag, he jumped. Death was near instantaneous.

He woke again. He climbed out of the shelter. He stared straight at the train. He was willing to throw himself at it as many times as necessary. The journey between superstructures was not small. Getting on that train was the difference between 10 and 10 hundred cycles. He wouldn’t spend a single revolution in this miserable body.

But this time he could not move towards the train. The weight of the limit bore on him. The self-destruction taboo would not allow it. Hope of surviving the jump had left. To jump was certain death. All he could do was walk alongside the train in dismay. In minutes, the train had gone away.

Numb from the experience, he trudged on, following the tracks as he had for many cycles now. He forgot to eat, found a shelter, and woke up starving the next cycle. He was fortunate to find food so often on the vines of a trellis.

Cycles 34-48 ~ Boardwalk

The verdant hues of the highway soon subdued and transitioned to desolate grays and blues. A saltwater breeze broke against the stony cliff that now bordered the left side of the tracks. Cranes bordering the right side were fewer and far between, as tidal drops and pools replaced much of the land around the highway. Trellises were covered in seaweed and algae rather than fruitful vines. The infrequency of vultures provided little relief. Pinwheels were the only unchanging color along the tracks.

Tired of replacing his slingbag, Pebbles took a cycle’s break from traveling to work on a more permanent solution. He began to climb a nearby crane. The constant mist from the sea made its surface slick and difficult. Once on top, he crawled towards its counterweight. A taller crane’s sling hung nearby, bearing a large metal beam. He leapt onto the beam. With rebar in hand, he moved to the center before setting to cutting the sling’s fabric. It was massive and had held up for this long. A little piece missing wouldn’t affect its integrity.

The issue was in that of his tool. Though sharpened, the rebar was rough and required considerable sawing to cut through the thick fabric. He had plenty of time though, and if it were to rain, he was still far enough from the iterator for it to be nonlethal.

Midway through his work, the dejunct overseer appeared beside him. It began projecting something when he turned and raised his spear, prompting its swift departure. What a pest. He didn’t give it another thought, setting himself back to work.

A shadow passed over him. He stopped for a moment and listened. The sound of a vulture’s jets set his heart racing. He frantically sawed at the sling. It was barely finished. He needed more time.

The crane trembled. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted the vulture utilizing the crane to pull itself towards him. It’s neck lunged for him. He bit into the fabric he had been cutting and, with a twist, tore it from its place as he made a break for it.

He ran along the shaking beam, leaping to the shorter crane as the vulture followed close behind. He slid down this crane’s sling before bounding onto the highway. The shelter he had come from was just behind–the vulture cut him off, forcing him in the opposite direction.

He ran along the tracks. The distance was shrinking. Its jets huffed loudly. Up ahead was a trellis. He climbed through a hole in its lattice, halting the vulture’s progress. It was only a moment’s reprieve before the vulture stuck its head through the hole. Its skull-like mask hovered towards him. Pebbles backed away.

When it could go no further, the vulture pulled its head out. Seconds later, it bashed into the side of the trellis, sending bits of the lattice flying. It repeated this action, creating a larger hole for it to fit through.

Looking at the rebar in his right hand, he judged it wasn’t enough to kill a vulture. Glancing behind, outside the shelter of the trellis, Pebbles spotted a large structure attached to the side of the highway. To take cover behind its walls of brick would be safer.

He took the fabric out of his mouth and tied it around his arm, taking deep breaths in preparation. A shadow crossed the distance between him and the structure. This shadow was accompanied by a pin of red light. Looming overhead was a king vulture.

What a predicament. He would stay alive a little longer if he waited under the trellis, though death to the vulture behind him was certain if he stayed. If he died stepping out, it’d be much faster. However, there was a chance of survival. He’d only have to outrun the harpoon.

He burst out running. The target light blinded him for a moment before he passed it up, fixing his eyes on the structure ahead. He scanned it for the nearest opening. The light came over him again. He dared not look up. His heart pounded. He counted the seconds. *CHUH* sounded the harpoon being shot. He ducked and rolled. He felt the wind of the harpoon passing just over his shoulder.

He climbed a flight of steps to a door. There was a vent at the top. He tried vainly to scramble up the door before thrusting the spear in the door’s side, utilizing it as leverage to reach the vent. He climbed in and fell hard on the other side.

Scratching sounds were heard as the king vulture attempted to push its masked face into the vent. Its target shined through. Pebbles backed away and ducked around a corner. The sound of scratching continued for a few moments before there was a huff of jets, silence, and the beginning of rain.

He breathed out, relieved. Sitting down in the shadows of safety, he took the ragged fabric from his arm and fashioned it into a new slingbag. He placed the pearl within its cradle before tearing off the old bag and slinging the new over his shoulder.

Satisfied with the upgrade, he set to exploring the interior of the structure. It appeared to be another old station, though he had no hope that a train would pass by. His only reason for being here was to escape the vultures and wait out the rain. Ideally, he’d find somewhere tucked away to sleep, and next cycle he’d find some batflies or a hazer (a recent addition to his diet) along the way.

It was a couple cycles later when everything took a turn for the worse.

Cycle 50

Pebbles was trudging along the railway as usual when something ahead caused him to perk up. It was the train. At first glance it appeared to have stopped, with pinwheels crawling all over its hull. It must have finally broken down. Looking again, he noticed it was still moving. Slowly, its wheels were turning. As he came alongside it, he pulled himself up a ladder and watched the wheels roll. 

A pinwheel came from behind and whacked him repeatedly with its rotary blades. Holding tightly to the ladder, he ducked and watched as the colorful plant flung itself off the side of the train. It swished around on the tracks behind.

To avoid any future incidents, Pebbles climbed the hull and decommissioned as many pinwheels as he could find. With every kill, he noticed himself gradually wearing out. With how far he had traveled, how many of these he had killed along the way, he couldn’t imagine that this task alone would leave him so fatigued. When the job was done, he sat on the edge of a car to rest.

The train was moving painfully slow. It might not be worth riding, after all, he mused. While he sat there contemplating, a strange bout of nausea overcame him. His head spun. There was a tightness in his chest. It became difficult to think. He stood up, hoping, perhaps, to shake it off. Stammering breath left his lungs, then ceased entirely. His body went limp and fell over the side of the train.

The train went on without him. His last sensation was darkness over his eyes and a burning in his chest.

Five Pebbles woke back in the shelter where he had started the cycle. Had he died? Leaving the shelter, he headed for the train. It was where he had found it before, rolling along slowly. He looked and listened with great caution.

Whatever happened, it seemed to have come out of nowhere. He set again to dispatching the pinwheels, stopping every now and then to watch for danger. With every pause, his growing fatigue became more apparent. He had to remain attentive.

He sat atop the train to rest, ears perked and eyes peeled. There was nothing out of place.

A vulture’s jets huffed in the distance.

His reasoning was about to suggest he enter the train, when nausea overcame him. His head spun. There was a pain in his chest, and he hunched over. It felt like his heart was splitting in two. He barely stood when all breath left him and he tumbled over the side of the train.

He tried for air. He writhed on the floor. He clawed at his chest. It burned. Everything was darkness and burning as his eyes glazed over for the second time.

He woke gasping, with a terror towards something he could not see. He had died again. How? Placing a hand over his chest, he felt his heart pounding. The limit was upon him. One more death to this phenomenon and it was over. He took deep breaths to calm himself as he considered the possibilities. As his heart rate slowed, he noticed an irregular pulse.

His eyes widened. His heart beat fast once more. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Panic just might kill him again. The cause was internal. He had no means to determine the exact issue, but something was fatally wrong with his vessel.

He left the shelter and walked along the tracks with deliberate steps. He kept a hand over his chest, measuring his heartbeat and controlling his breathing. His heart pumped as usual for a while, before being interrupted by a sudden spike where it would race for several seconds, drop to near nothing, and then return to normal again. The longer he walked, the more these irregular pulses occurred.

If he couldn’t keep it under control, he’d be gone before cycle’s end.

He had nearly forgotten about the train by the time he reached it. His mind was consumed with impending death. He trembled slightly. Swallowing hard, he returned to his breathing.

As before, there were pinwheels all over the train. He didn’t bother with them this time. Perhaps avoiding the exertion would extend his life, just a little longer. He climbed the train and crawled into the first car-shelter he could find.

Pebbles curled up. His eyes stung for fear and sorrow. Contemplating his own duplicity detached him from his circumstances. To desire death one moment, and fear it the next. Which one , he asked himself, belongs to me? One last tremor in his heart kept him awake. Then came a fog over his mind. The shelter entrance groaned with the promise of security. A comforting darkness carried him off to sleep.

Emotions were such a waste of energy. They blinded reason and wore out the mind. “ Just a little longer ,” he hoped so pathetically. Had he looked at the situation objectively, he would have known that avoiding exertion was the one thing that would save his life. He was just arriving at this conclusion when he realized he was not asleep. He was not in the train shelter either. Was this a dream?

Five Pebbles lay face down on the floor of his chamber. He could feel his rig above him. Could see the orange sleeves that ended at his wrists. Pearls were scattered around him. One in particular was within arm’s reach. The golden pearl. The one given to him by Seven Red Suns.

He wanted to take hold of it. His face tilted towards it. His fingers twitched. Beyond that, he could not move.

A shadow passed in the corner of his eye. It stood over the pearl. Able to glance up briefly, he knew it was a scavenger. Its hand reached down for the pearl and took hold of it.

He had yet to archive its contents.

“No,” Pebbles’ voice was barely above a whisper. “Don’t...” Don’t take that. I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll kill you. “...you.” He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t even speak. The scavenger passed out of sight, taking the pearl with it.

Chapter Text

[LIVE BROADCAST] - PUBLIC

Vast Majority Referendum to Local Group

VMR: Per responsibility as local group senior, I am putting in request for your bi-laply reports. As usual, you're free to disregard this request.

VMR: ...

VMR: Right. Be well, everyone.