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Oh, Xavier swallowed slowly, as if careful not to dislodge a lump in his throat. His hand wandered to the back of his neck. The image in front of him didn’t change - no glass skyscrapers or old town of Linkon City appeared.
Instead, the low concrete buildings were settled heavily like washed off stones, baring their bones to soak in the warmth of the mild afternoon sun. Dark stains peeked through peeling paint, lush greenery fell from balconies and curled around the lampposts, sprouting from between sidewalk slabs and cracks in asphalt.
Longing for his apartment came over him with a sudden grip around his lungs; a half-sigh, half-whimper stuck in his throat.
These buildings were all angular lines, fantastically shaped with arches and passages leading nowhere, and ledges with no clear purpose. As if scattered by a child daydreaming about how a futuristic world would look like – many decades ago. Now looking post- dystopian. Brutalistic. Only with a certain mindset charming in its un-prettiness.
Palm trees here and there didn’t add any lightness to it – just a false cheeriness of an oversaturated vintage postcard.
He breathed out and let the moment pass. For the pain to blunt again into a pulsing ache of an old bruise.
Apparently, he didn’t want just to put distance between him and Linkon City when he took on that long-term mission.
Apparently, part of him came here looking for comfort.
This half-abandoned resort city, with its prime long past, didn’t offer it easily. One had to make an effort to make it their own.
Xavier wasn’t sure if he had it in him to do that.
But what choice did he have?
Breathe through that wish to curl up, numb himself and vanish between threads of time.
Find some locals to see the town through their eyes. Get busy with the course of underwater hunting. Keep yourself anchored to the present, no matter by how thin the line.
The local specialty turned out to be a tart filled with fruit jam. It left a tangy aftertaste on his tongue, lingering long after washing it down with green tea.
"My favourite place? I’m not sure, but you can go up the hill during the sunrise,” suggested a waitress in a family restaurant, "or walk down the beach.”
Sunlight poured through the window of the rented apartment between ten and eleven o’clock, just in time to wake him up with its warmth tingling against his eyelids.
The piano sounds cleared as the cafe’s owner aligned the gramaphone’s tone arm with another record from the previous century. "My father built these chairs. By the way, are you interested in local art?”
"Grass is growing now between these caves. It grew on the blood of civilians who had nowhere to run.” The guide’s voice reverberated in the quiet of the museum, from display cases with torn clothes to pictures of people long gone. "The government knew they couldn’t win but wanted to prolong the battle to gain a better negotiating leverage. One fourth of local population had died during it.”
Breakfast With Rice And Fish.
His BCD inflated and deflated properly; weights around his waist were easy to release-
"I don’t know how you do things in the Hunting Association,” his refresher course instructor - a short, stocky man in middle age – said, "but today I’m your dive master, and I give no shit how many Wanderers you need to fight to meet your damn criteria or whatever. There is only one primary objective, and you better know it.”
For some reason, Xavier’s mouth did something strange as it tried to stretch on its own. Did he find the man’s scowl and short-tempered directness amusing, almost endearing? "Of course. Return safe.”
The man’s glare only deepened. "And the first rule of every dive?”
"Never hold your breath,” Xavier said lightly.
The absurd thought hit him – what would this down-to-earth and blunt man’s reaction be if Xavier told him that the last time he went scuba diving, there was an air hose linked to his diving suit and a copper helmet around his head, no regulator with flow on demand invented yet?
The notion was more entertaining than it should be, and-
And then there was water washing over him, closing the sky above him.
Everything fell away.
His illfitting but welcomed, feeling like bones-deep relief, amusement.
The sharp-edged weight lodged in his chest.
The story old like the world - of a girl meeting a boy, and a boy having promises to another.
The image of her quivering lips trying to smile while her eyes bled hurt - piercing through Xavier right into the pit of guilt in him - when would he stop hurting her, first abandoning her, then rejecting her feelings?
That sharp, relentless voice in him –
it went against his duty -
he had no right to do anything about them -
when it was convenient and easy -
when he had left his queen alone on a cold throne -
hushed like a faraway song.
The waters accepted him – enclosing him and seeping into him through his wetsuit. As if whispering, We were here when Earth was created, and we’ll be there when you’ll be gone. Don’t fight the current, boy. Go with it or underneath it.
It made swallowing through the tender ache in his chest easier.
It would pass. Just give it time, and it would, like most things in life - you know that better than others.
He let it wash over him and sweep away his memories and thoughts.
Down there there was no space for them.
Pressure and pain built up in his ears, and he had to focus on equalizing them, and keeping his breath slow and calm.
Deep down under the tones of water, he couldn’t see stars. Only bubbles, bobbing up towards the light.
For once, he didn’t miss them.
"Your hair is weird,” later, a little girl said, looking down on him, stretched on a towel. Sand welled between her toes and clung to her legs up to her knees. ”Are you a grandpa or not?”
Raising a palm over his eyes, Xavier squinted at her. "Maybe I’m older than the oldest grandpa. So old that time started to turn back for me and I become younger every year,” he mused.
Popping a lollilop into her mouth, she seemed to consider it. After a beat, she scrunched her nose, unimpressed. "Babies are annoying. They cry a lot.”
His mouth twitched.
She turned on her heels, her dotted dress swirling. "Bye, grandpa. Don’t forget to brush your teeth or you’ll need to keep them in your night table.”
At that, an unexpected laugh stumbled out of him. "I’ll try to remember that.”
Ah right, still smiling, the heat of the sand seeping into him, he remembered The First Rule of Survival After Crashing Your Spaceship in the Wrong Timeline.
Love small things.
Love birds chirping, the feeling of a cat’s fur heated in the sun. The resilience of a town rebuilding itself after the war and the disarming curiosity of kids. Conversations with passing strangers. Piano music, old vinyls bringing back memories from cafes with smoke of cigars and rustling of newspapers – but not too much.
Love present things, don’t lose yourself in the past or future, never hold your breath for anything.
Love small things.
It didn’t necessarily have to feel like shrinking a part of yourself - it could be freeing. Like floating on the surface of the ocean while looking at stars.
Just breathe through the open wound in him, festering for hundreds of years.
Love small things.
After a few more dives, he got partnered with a local hunter to track down a nest of Wanderers attacking fishing boats. They usually would appear around dawn, in strange and fantastic shapes in fog, accompanied by an even stranger melody carried by the winds, half-wailing, half-cry.
The similarity to old folk tales about sirens and their songs was puzzling. Could Wanderers mimic it? How would they stumble upon it?
Searching for the answers, Xavier added more things to his list. He loved the way light scattered under the water. The fluid movements of colorful fishes paying no attention to him, scuttering in and out of coral. Sand ripples, like small waves, parallel to the shore. Faraway clanking of a mooring chain in the muffled quietude of water.
The way there was always a deep and dark abyss in his periphery, reminding him that more than three-quarters of Earth’s oceans were unexplored - neither by human eye nor sonar. Almost as untouched as space.
A dull metal sound cut into his thoughts.
Over his shoulder, his diving partner signaled reaching half of the pressure in her tank, indicating time to return and ascend if they didn’t want to risk going out of air.
Up the surface, their motorboat swayed slightly with waves as they leaned over the laminated map.
With the corner of his eye, he saw his partner worry at her lower lip.
The conclusion was simple: they had explored most of the shallow waters near the sites of attacks.
It meant going deeper. It meant smaller no-stop time window on the bottom, bigger risk of decompression sickness and nitrogen narcosis.
"I had dived before coming here,” he said lightly, as if to no one in particular.
She jerked her head up to regard him, her weathered face unreadable. "No matter how good your swordskills or buoyancy control are, you’re still a newbie in underwater hunting. There are teams who have more advanced gear for deeper dives.”
"True,” he agreed easily. "We still have one scheduled dive. We don’t need to go that much deeper to make something out of it.”
A silver-finned fish splashed just behind the starboard; a gull dived down towards it.
She sighed, and rubbed her face with one hand. "Keep your eyes on your diving computer – I mean, hunter watch - as if it owed you your rent money. The moment you feel anything out of the norm – feeling tired, confused, drunk or just cold - you stop and rise a few kicks. And signal me.”
First vanished red of the coral, turning into dull brown. Yellow fell back as unnoticeably as long-nosed butterflyfishes with their vibrant fins.
There could be a comfort in that, Xavier thought, twirling around his axis to look around. In the way the deeper he swam, the more wavelengths got absorbed by water. It shifted their surroundings into a muted blue landscape. Snuggly like a grey day demanding nothing, turning simple shapes into fantastical ones, still and warped with overgrown coral and debris.
In the quiet half-light his colleague swam forward towards the remains of a sunken boat, her right hand on her holster. With the particles of dirt and plankton suspended in the water, it resembled an abandoned starship among the terrain of some foreign planet.
Was the low visibility due to normal water movements or did something disturb the bottom floor?
A burst of Evol, and a ball of light floated across him. Flickering in and out of colour, a dotted fish with bulging eyes brushed against it.
It gave him a pause.
His hunter watch chose that moment to beep and vibrate against his wrist. Distorted Metaflux readings within a fifty meters parameter, it read.
Lifting his head, he regarded the vague shape of rocks, looming in the distance. Could he lure these Wanderers out with his Evol like Luminivores? Or would it just alert them?
The silhouette of his partner lingered in the corner of his eye, circling the area.
Another glance at his watch. Four minutes and thirty-five seconds of no stop time. After that safety stop would be obligatory. As they had no decompression chamber on their boat, with his limited experience and gear their main focus was on reconnaissance. And they had agreed to keep themselves to the most strict time frames, similar to recreational divers.
Three minutes and forty seven seconds.
His fingertips tingled as he released a few more light specks. They floated across water like scattered beads of jewelry - small enough not to disturb any potential light sensitive organisms, yet turning the water into a glistening dusk sky.
A movement on his far left.
His hand twitched along his side, ready to grip and cut.
Take into account fins and being underwater, he reminded himself. No relying on quick footwork, honed through years. Restrain from teleportation, possibly unstable in a medium absorbing light.
Twisting to the left, a surge of amusement cursed through him. Did he just choose to work in the environment that stripped him of his most skills? How come did he realise it just now?
Just as quickly as it came, it faded away and sharpened into focus.
In the murky distance, a shadow moved along the bottom. Its shape distorted in a cloud of sand billowing around it.
Two minutes fifty-three seconds.
His hand slid to a rod buckled to his vest. He hit it against his tank, and a low metal sound carried through the water - loud enough to get attention of his partner.
With one light ball floating in front of him, and a strong kick of his fins, he surged forward.
The water meeting him seemed chillier than before - was there any current or-
The light ball jerked, and – astonishingly, impossibly- rushed away. As if pulled by some invisible fishing line.
If he could gape at it, he probably would. Instead he threw himself forward to follow it.
The visibility didn’t get any better, sand still swirling ahead of him-
His watch beeped again, readings changing.
One minute of no-stop time. When did he swim that much deeper? In a moment, he would need to -
Something glistened, sliding along the bottom. As if - a huge tail, its scales shifting – what kind of scales shimmered in such a way?
'Rapture of the deep.' Wasn't it another name for-
A human hand reached out of darkness to cradle the light.
Xavier’s arms flailed, avoiding crashing mid-kick. His breath hitched.
Long hair fell down the arched back.
Silver and bright red glinted across the bare chest, lines intricate and impossible.
Prickling ran down his neck.
No muted colours, nor masks or air tanks as the tail flicked upwards.
Water sloshed around Xavier, bubbles gurgling. Or something in his throat?
Instead, the man glowed. A soft glow of fireflies, jellyfishes and auroras. Something sensual and fitting in the way he swam there, deep underwater, belonging to water itself.
A clear gaze met his. His eyes-
It was as if all pressure in Xavier’s chest popped.
His lungs crackled, a tight ring closing around them-
Buzz and white bubbles leaking into his head-
Oh.
His legs spasmed as his nails dug into his throat.
Kinda ironic, he thought.
He was drowning,
he realized.
He couldn’t, he had to -
The water swallowed him whole.
Dripping.
A sway of the water.
He floated up and down waves, moonlight dappling over his skin.
Or maybe he was a moon?
It connected together water and sky, their tides answering its gravity call.
It meant something.
He just didn’t know what.
Small people ran on the surface of water at the back of his skull, their small feet brushing the sandy texture of it, their shouts slipping through cracks in his bone-
He was a vastness of the night sky above the primary forest. Quietude of the tree, the oldest witness of-
Stars started to fall.
A vaguely familiar sensation scratched his being. They found traces of Metaflux, it said. Something or someone cleared their nest.
He was a small colourful planet in the distance. An oval stone, tossed by the sea on and out the beach.
Oh. Hello there.
You look younger than I thought-
A new sensation appeared. Closer, more persistent, vibrating in the air -
It would be only polite to say something back, you know. This time I won’t hold it against you. Don’t get used to it.
A voice, he realised. Speaking words.
What’s the point of emotional ammunition if you aren’t going to use it?
They were strange - as if written with a stick on the seashore, getting washed away before he could read them. Scattering the moment he paid attention to them.
He seeped away.
He was a seagull diving into the water, a chubby cat purring in the sun for no other reason but its own contentment.
Quiet murmurs swept over the sea like unbodied clouds with complex names - turn him, pulsoxymeter, the change - indifferent and impersonal.
Until it rained.
Still refusing to be bothered to wake up, I see. I have days like that too, dreamy. Slipping away between fingers like sand.
The words plattered against the windowsill like heavy drops. A window creaked to shut on its own-
At least you have a nice view. The light is just right to – ohhh, you can’t see. Opening your eyes could help, I think. Just a thought. No? Okaay, darling. Your window is facing east as the hospital is on a hill above the port. Imagine the sky during the sunrise, last stars fading away -
Something in him stirred and raised its head. This time words were cleavers, their tiny hooked hairs sticking to his mind.
- and first sunlight spilling over the horizon, over gabled rooftops with red tiles.
Next time he heard that voice, he paid attention. It didn’t talk about the sky and its colours though.
Ah, dear Thomas, everrr so optimistic and persistent. Annoying and troublesome. Who is Thomas, you ask? Hm, let me think. How should I introduce the bane of my existence to you? Imagine a mosquito buzzing around your ear when you are about to sleep. Make it have your phone number and know your location most of the time. That's Thomas for you.
That wasn’t helpful at all, he thought, swaying on a swing. Besides, It only needed to open the window and stop answering the mosquito’s calls.
The sun set down and long shadows lay across the field with forget-me-not flowers. Among them, lay a beached starship.
He managed to rebuild the starship till next time he heard the Voice.
The things you do to mimic the fraction of our power.
The cat on the windowsill of a briefing room raised its head and hissed. The Voice was different that day – low, laced with barely restrained tension underneath it.
Let me tell you a secret. Usually, I don’t do portraits but today I wish I had kept you underwater to sketch you. After removing all that unsightly gear, of course.
As if suppressing something. A bit...hungry?
The way you so brazenly brought that light with you, as if you, humans, weren't that easy to drag deep into abyss until you convulsed and coughed blood.
He levitated down into his pilot seat. ...Who was that voice? What had happened to him? The clues were all out there.
It reflected in your eyes, so blue in all that boring blue-
No, I don’t want to drown you, dreamy. At least, not for now. Days of sacrifices are long gone, after all. Would you believe me if I were to say there are ways to make you breathe under water without that all those tubes and tanks?
The cat brushed against his leg, its ears flattened. Underwater, gear, breath, tanks. All clues pointed to-
You’d need to buy me a dinner first and gravel a bit for that big overreaction though. Who decides to send themselves to the hospital at the first sight of someone? Awfully rude, Mr Hunter.
- hunting.
I may not come tomorrow or the day after. Tides are changing and all that. Don’t miss me too much.
The following silence seemed to leave a gap in threads of space. A void impossible to fill by anything else.
Something in it pushed against him-
Gnawing at him.
Until-
A spark ignited between two synapses.
Xavier remembered.
Long, floating in the water hair. Majestic like a kelp forest, swaying with a rhythm of waters. Otherworldly glow of the skin and scales glistening in the scattered light. The eyes looking right at him-
A wonder. Tingling under his skin, overwhelming him, filling him with a bigger than life realisation – encounter of someone beyond humanity and their passing lives. Someone living sideways to it, as well.
Someone he wasn’t responsible for.
Time stretched into counting stars through the cockpit window. Constellations were familiar like a childhood lullaby – something forgotten found once again.
For the first time in that space, he was waiting.
Oh Xavier Xavier Xavier. What are we going to do with you? You start resembling a marble statue – pale and frozen in time. At least, both armed and not beheaded.
It came back with a liveliness of sea breeze sweeping clouds away, back to its light and playful cadence.
Don’t you have anything to come back to? A favourite song or a cactus needing watering once in a while, Xav? Yes, I found out your name and I’m going to use it against you. You have to use your words if you object, Xav. Xavi? No can do, Mr Hunter. Xavi it is.
One star flickered and faded away.
By the way, what exactly is wrong with you? They won't tell me.
Are you giving me a silent treatment after the last time? Puh-lease, as if you're always being yourself. Do you mean you are always that quiet? Be that way, I have a sketchbook on me anyway.
The other shot out of view to disappear in the grass. In return, the sound of chair legs screeching against the floor seeped into his consciousness.
Other time I told you about a planned visit to a new gallery, right? Imagine finding there something – did you have your favourite stone or feather when you were a child? Something you found precious but no one else did?
Somewhere between vanishing of the starship and starry sky, a heaviness of unmoving body settled upon him.
Xavier had a body.
Imagine finding it many years later in a glass cabinet with writing ‘A primitive example of early beginnings of Lemurian culture.’
Its limbs stretched like mountains, unmoving and lead-filled.
First of all, primitive? Excuse- youu, I was there when you started to hew two stones together. Let me tell you – it wasn’t pretty.
Can you imagine not having a home to return to and finding its remains either misclassified in galleries and museums, or thrown to a garbage dump?
I don’t need to imagine, his tongue refused to curl. I know the former, and I want to avoid the latter.
Would you choose to sponsor it or burn it, dreamy?
The Voice slipped away into the hum of the air-conditioner and breeze against his skin.
The bridge of his nose itched.
His thoughts drifted away.
He slept.
The consciousness came back with a squeeze around his arm and the touch of cold fingers on his forearm. "One hundred eleven over seventy-six,” someone over him murmured.
The silence stretched into numbers.
Puffball would visit every other day. His spaceship crashed into1834 A.C. He met her on a crisp morning of -
"Do you know how annoying it is to not know if I should be flattered or offended?"
The familiar voice cut unceremoniously into his thoughts. Usually vibrant, it sounded ...muffled? Off-key, like a wrong note in the middle of a melody line.
"I know I’m quite breathtaking but. I never aspired to Medusa's level of breathtakingness. There is no satisfaction in unintended deaths."
A shadow fell over Xavier, and his fingertips twitched. He knew that the being with glowing scales leaned over him.
"Do you know that when men hanged and burned at San Giovanni for wishing to marry each other, some risked wearing gnaga masks only to be able to see me? Others kept serenading me only to hear me say a word to them," It whispered as if telling a secret.
The shadow passed, and the chair creaked.
"I only say that so you know the scale of your offence. What am I supposed to feel at the thought that the sight of me in my true form could kill someone? How am I supposed to move on from that?"
A series of low taps, as if someone drummed their fingers against a table.
"For your own sake, you better live. Do you think elephants hold a grudge for a long time? Try a Lemurian with flair to inventions, time on their hands and a sea of pettiness. A vengeful Renaissance man. There will be no resting in peace, let me tell you that. If you die, I will find a way to haunt your ghost and be your worst afterlife nightmare."
A faint sound of a trolley rolling down the hospital’s corridor. A gull's screech from behind the slightly ajar window.
When they spoke again, their tone abandoned any pretence. It was uncertain. Naked with some unspoken need. "..They say you held your breath, and air in your lungs expanded and burst them.”
Did Xavier hear them swallow, or did he have auditory hallucinations?
"Why did you?”
Ah, right. That, Xavier thought.
Are you fishing for compliments? He wished to ask. Sorry to disappoint, I’m better known with the Victorian etiquette of restraint.
A bang; something fell to the ground.
"W-what?”The voice stammered. "Oh my goddess, what- nurse!”
A pain shot throught Xavier’s head and, unwillingly, his eyelids fluttered.
An elegant young man in a tailored suit hovered near the door. A slightly panicked look on his face was surprisingly human.
In the setting sun’s light his short hair glinted purple. His eyes – something rattled in Xavier’s chest.
"I’d choose to secretly change it for something else. A private joke on the expense of the gallery,” he found himself saying, as if continuing the interrupted conversation.
The man’s gaze seemed to fixate at something in Xavier’s face.
Xavier blinked, and the man’s expression closed off. His lips were a thin line pressed together. "You weren’t supposed to remember any of that," he mumbled.
Xavier tried to smile. His cheeks hurt, and he probably grimaced instead. ”Sorry?” For some reason, he didn’t sound apologetic at all. Just croaky.
The man’s eyes were the colour of the reflection of the sun setting into the sea. Darkness of deep sea blending with fire.
Despite being halfway out the door, he seemed unable to look away from Xavier as well.
Xavier took a deep breath. The following twinge in his chest was almost pleasant; achingly sweet.
„Stay,” he said.