by Dave
I only have brief flashes of memory from my life before this world. I think I blocked it out. I remember being unable to see, and having the use of only one limb – an arm that ended at the elbow. I’m pretty sure my other limbs were missing entirely. My first clear memory is opening my eyes to the first world I’d ever seen.
I never understood the ins and outs of wealth, but I know it cost every bit of it my parents had to bring me here. There were many kids like me, damaged, or born different. Most of us were sent here alone, or had parents who would visit once or twice a year, unlike mine, who had nothing to go back to.This place became a show of wealth and charity. Benefactors would create scholarships, or sponsor the migration of entire orphanages. We were forced to attend frequent ceremonies honoring these benefactors. I think this was a way wealthy people could get good publicity while “cleaning up” their neighborhoods, and removing unsightly people like myself.
There were also residents who had perfectly average bodies, but enough money that they could afford to live in a place where they could make their fantasies reality. It was a skill that took time to master, and kids picked it up much faster than adults, especially those who, like me, had had nothing but imagination before. Adults gave themselves lives of comfortable luxury; children created worlds.
And every act of creativity was even more powerful in the Core. The Core was protected by a transparent dome and heavily guarded entrances. It was a place where the very wealthiest people could make any dream come true. When my parents got older, they got me in somehow – I have no idea how – but that was the last time I saw them. Whatever they gave up to send me here precluded their own entry.
My parents died, I assume. They were part of a generation where death was still something we dealt with. When I opened my eyes for the first time, it wasn’t from my own body. I’d escaped its bounds and made a new body for myself, one that I had always imagined myself as having. One by one, children mastered the skill of leaving their bodies. Adults almost never did, either because they couldn’t, or because they were afraid to. Even children, if they couldn’t fully abandon their physical forms, eventually died. It took only a couple decades to realize that our bodies weren’t required at all. We could stop breathing and decompose into dust, and still live on.
We were provided with plenty to keep us busy – books, music, art, movies, and for a while, schools. These fueled our fantasies, and we would become the characters and play out scenarios from our favorite books and movies, the most creative among us build off of those stories to make something new.
Over time, most of us settled into a favored form, and many of us had more and more trouble leaving it. The very first time I saw this effect was the balloon girl. It was very early on, only a couple years after I entered the Core. She liked to float around in the sky, holding on to the strings of dozens of brightly colored balloons. She was very recognizable. Often, you’d look up and there she’d be, watching you. If she found you interesting, she’d hover overhead for hours, then eventually drift off to her next point of interest. She never came down, and never talked, and never changed. I suspected there was something off about her mind, but then more and more people locked themselves into patterns. Our minds were never meant to last forever. We forget, and cling to whatever habits and patterns we can to hold on to our sense of self, and our sanity. Most of us are just barely holding on.
Over the first couple centuries, I noticed another phenomenon. Humans don’t do well alone; we crave community. Those with the most compelling fantasies or strongest personalities attracted cliques or gangs. There were hundreds of these, but over time, the the biggest grew and the smallest disappeared. I remember the first big merge, when the druids joined the magi. Overnight, the peaceful forests became towers, growing the magi to the thousands. Other clear winners soon followed, until only four factions remained – the Magi, Mad Scientists, Monsters and the Underground. It could have gone differently, I suppose, but these were always some of the most popular genres of the entertainment we were given, so maybe it was inevitable.
We’ve maintained this steady state for a very, very long time, but I worry that it won’t last forever. Those of us with the longest memories have watched the Underground get slowly smaller, and the other factions too. We may not be immortal after all, but I think something more insidious is going on as well.
When the factions formed, those with the brightest minds joined the Monsters. These were people who could not only manifest complex forms of their own, but could also create large numbers of other, independently acting agents. What you see as a clan is actually a single person. But you’ve seen evidence that this may not be as true as it once was. When Kranskabat was incapacitated, the clan didn’t shut down entirely. The other trolls, while a little dim witted, continued to function. I think this is where the missing people went; their minds are so far gone that they can no longer live on their own, so they slip into Monster territory and join a clan. There, they can live without having to think too hard, so they can slowly fade, unnoticed. I think that might be all of our fate eventually.
I often wonder about the balloon girl. One day, long ago, she disappeared. Maybe she was the first to fade into the Monsters. Or maybe she finally took on some other form.