Chapter Text
Specks of light flooded Simon’s vision through the dark foliage of the garden. As he adjusted to his surroundings, he was loosely aware that he was sitting in some kind of pool with only his face breaching the surface of the water. The rest of his body sunk like lead, anchoring him to the bottom of the pool. A few men crowded around where he lay and watched on in silence, staring intently at his face.
“Oh Brother Simon,” the man standing to his right asked him. At the sound of his voice, Simon immediately recognized the men around him as a few of the elders of Eden. “Why did you return?”
Simon tried to speak but choked on water instead. He continued coughing while the man to his left spoke.
“Brother Simon, did you think you served Eden well?" The expressions of the men were just outside of Simon's field of vision.
Simon managed to catch his breath, but before he could get the words out, the next man spoke.
“Brother Simon, why did you think we would forgive you?” he asked.
“What?” Simon wheezed, feeling his breath constrict.
“You know that recompense for sins is necessary," said the next.
“And as such, the punishment must fit the offense,” said the fifth elder.
“This is your execution, Simon,” the first man said finally.
All at once, five hands reached out to Simon and submerged his face in the water. At first, Simon tried to resist, thrashing and pulling against the lip of the pool. He clawed at the men's arms, whether it was to suffocate them instead or to drown them with him he wasn’t sure. He ripped their sleeves, internally cursing the men who raised him. Eventually the oxygen left his limbs and he could only sit and wait for death. Just as the room began to darken at the edges, he woke up.
—
The room he was in now was not nearly as dark as the elders’ chamber, but with the sterile metal walls and the hospital bed he lay in, he felt it too welcomed his oncoming doom. Four mechanical arms hung over his head and began to move towards him. He tried to swat at them, but as his brittle hand collided with the cold metal he winced and pulled away. The arms, unfazed, continued to move towards him, forcing Simon to roll onto the floor. With a loud crash, he fell, grasping at the tiles, desperately trying to get on his knees.
He heard the chatter outside, seemingly a man and some kind of musical instrument, growing closer. He tried to scramble up again, only to find himself repeatedly falling against the floor.
The metal doors slid open to welcome the man into the room. A pair of googles covered his eyes, making his expression almost unreadable to Simon. He walked over to a counter and picked up a syringe. As he made his way over, Simon tried to attack any part of him he could reach. He clawed, bit, and hit the man’s shins but it did little else other than annoy the other man.
“Ah! Please, I’m trying to help you,” the man explained but Simon was hardly aware enough to process the statement. Thankfully for the man standing over him, Simon tired himself out and slumped against the ground. Simon felt the sharp pain of the syringe in his neck and heard a distant “I’m sorry,” before losing consciousness.
—
This time, Simon woke up in a memory. Children of Eden repeatedly throughout their lives needed to display that they were worthy protectors of Eden. And today was arguably the most important day to do just that. He stood in an open pavilion, older teenagers fanned out in a line on either side of him, all of them facing the same tiered obelisk in the center. According to their assignment, the students all had to ascend the three floors of the tower before them, collecting medallions to progress while facing various obstacles along the way. Of course, only those who made it in the top half of the group were likely to advance among Eden’s people.
Simon hardly worried about how today would go. As the youngest of his cohort, he had gotten used to proving himself to be better than his peers. He took a deep breath as he anticipated the call to begin.
“Remember,” he heard the Father’s garbled voice over the loud speakers. “You may use any force necessary for the sake of the Tree. . . Begin!”
A blaring sound resonated from the speakers and the throng dashed towards the tower. Simon, despite being the smallest, sprinted ahead of the others and shoved open the iron doors. He could only see about three feet ahead of him in the pitch darkness of the first floor. He crouched down as several other students came in behind him and felt around on the dark floor. The door continued to stay open even after everyone had filed in and disappeared into the darkness, making it almost impossible for Simon’s eyes to adjust to the black expanse in front of him. He padded on his hands and slowly made his way forward. At some point he had to find some of the tools or medallions scattered in the structure. He kept his hand steady on the side wall as he progressed before it suddenly curved and blocked his path. He made his way down and through a passageway, realizing the challenge of the first floor. This was a maze.
He found his way to the first batch of resources, a medallion, a baton, and a taser. Skipping past the weapons, he picked up the medallion and went on his way. He knew he needed to grab something to defend himself eventually, but for now the medallions were more important to his success. Rounding the corner he picked up another medallion and a metal bat before crouching to the floor.
Ethan, the strongest of their cohort, stalked through the corridor with a training sword in hand. Simon watched as Ethan found another weapon and two medallions. He cursed under his breath, he wasn’t sure if Ethan had another medallion already, but regardless he was further ahead than Simon, which was unacceptable.
Once Ethan was gone, Simon ran left down the corridor and found himself routed back to the entrance. The medallions had already been taken, leaving a pathetic looking dart gun left alone in the corner.
“Shit,” Simon whispered. He was determined to not just succeed at this challenge, but to surpass everyone else.
He ran back the way he came and turned down another corridor. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a training bow but no medallion. He continued on, pushing past Ethan on his way.
“Coming through,” he mumbled. The bat swung at his side as he moved on ahead without looking back. He heard a scoff behind him but ignored it in favor of the two medallions he found in the corner. He turned down a couple more corridors with various supplies, but his mind was set on finding the exit. He felt along a side wall and made his way to a ladder poking down from the ceiling. He pulled himself onto the bottom wrung and felt it pulse under his hand twice. It turned blue to indicate he had passed and he hefted himself into the next floor.
Simon assumed this room was smaller than the first floor since it appeared to be that way from the outside, but he really had no way of knowing since the room was just as dark as the one below. He gingerly continued forward, one foot after the other, until the ground seemed to disappear under him, plunging him into a pool of icy water.
In a panic, he flailed and gasped for air, trying to find the ledge he had tumbled over. In the back of his mind he knew this would be easier if he simply let go of the bat in his right hand, but instincts told him to hold onto it even tighter and instincts won out. His left hand found the ledge, allowing him to hoist himself out of the pool by his elbows. He rolled onto the ground and coughed up the remaining water in his lungs. His teeth clattered as he sat up on his knees. He wondered what the point of this floor even was. Since Earth and Mars had disappeared some years ago at this point, it seemed pointless to test the students’ ability to swim since there were no more bodies of water. He pushed the thought away, winning was more important at the moment. He heard some kids climbing up the latter and continued forward.
He hopped from tile to tile making his way at, what he perceived as, a snail’s pace. He needed three more medallions if he wanted to continue and found none in sight. He heard more students clamoring into the room before he noticed a glimmer in the bottom of one of the pools. Immediately he recognized the glow, placed his bat on the edge of the pool, and dove in head first. He wasn’t exactly a stellar swimmer, to be fair, no one was anymore but Simon felt he was good enough for a simple dive. Nothing could deter him from the blue glow at the bottom of the water even if he had no idea how deep it was. Just as the feeling left the tips of his fingers, he clasped it in his hands and shot back up to the surface.
A hand clawed at his jacket, pulling him back down into the water. Whipping his head around, he found Jo with a horrified expression on his face, grasping Simon's clothing like a lifeline.
“Simon you gotta help me!” Jo pleaded while the two flailed in the water. “You know I can’t swim!”
“Then find the ledge!” Simon countered, shouting above the splashing of their limbs. He tried to push Jo away before they both sunk.
“Simon please!” Jo screamed, holding onto Simon like a vice.
Simon, using his legs to keep him mostly afloat, coiled his arm back before punching Jo square in the nose. Jo fell back in the water, still flailing, letting go of Simon.
Simon started to swim away before turning back. “It's not a big pool, find the damn ledge yourself!” he called over his shoulder.
If Jo had a reply Simon didn’t care to hear it. He found his bat on the ground and continued his exploration into the darkness. Skipping over tiles, he found the light pulse of a medallion calling him a few steps away. Only problem being that it was blocked by water on all sides. Simon still couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers and decided in a moment that the water might as well be hurdled over. He couldn’t have much of a running start considering the tiles were only a step or two wide and on top of that he was weighed down by all the water soaked into his clothes and hair. Against the odds he stepped back before leaping over the pool. He nearly tripped and fell back into the water before shifting his weight and catching the corner wall in front of him. He picked up the medallion and clipped it to his belt. He counted five in total. One more would get him to the final floor.
He held the bat out in front of him and felt to see if there was a tile past the small water pool on his right. Finding the tile he decided the risk was worth it again and used the back wall to help spring him onto the tile ahead. This time he almost stumbled into the next pool before catching himself on the right side wall. Looking down, he noticed anotehr medallion teetering on the edge of the pool. Simon shot his hand down and caught it just as it slipped over the edge. Clipping the final medallion to his person, he began his search for the exit.
Taking a few steps forward he began to feel a presence hovering in the air, as if someone were following him. He looked around, but the darkness of the room kept the potential stalker out of sight. With each step he took, the feeling grew stronger until he noticed a hand hovering above the medallions on his belt. Reflexes kicked in as Simon seized their wrist before swinging their body around in front of him and tossing his assailant into a nearby pool. He heard a small cracking noise right before he let go of the student, but paid it no mind.
He made his way to the side wall and noticed a small shape on the ceiling a couple tiles away. Processing that the strange dark blob must be the exit, Simon hopped over the adjacent tiles before reaching up to the dark shape above him. The latter pulsated twice before releasing. He scurried up its rungs into the final room.
He collapsed on to the floor of the small room, desperately trying to catch his breath. The water soaked into his clothes weighed him down as if his body were iron. He heard the latter rattle below, welcoming someone else into the arena. Simon quickly rolled over into a squat and surveyed his surroundings. This room had better lighting than the floors before, but that wasn’t saying much. He observed that he was sitting in the middle of a small arena that curved inwards like a crater. At the lip, he noticed there seemed to be a higher floor he could reach. Before his competition made their entrance, Simon climbed up the side of the arena and hid himself on the lip over looking it all. On either side of him lay all different kinds of weapons, maces, bows, and swords of some description. He looked back to the metal bat in his hands and decided it would serve him better.
Turning his attention back to the arena, he saw that Sam now sat near the center, catching his breath, while Ethan poked his head from the floor below. Simon ducked a little lower, wanting to keep his presence hidden from the others. Neither of the two said anything to the other once they were both inside. They sat across from one another, trying to catch their breath while watching each other apprehensively.
A few minutes of heavy silence later, the final boy entered the arena. Kim tumbled onto the floor just before the hatch connected to the latter sealed the four boys inside. Lights around the lip of the arena illuminated the room bringing it from shadowy darkness to a dusk-like visibility.
“Congratulations on making it this far, my children,” the Father's voice echoed across the small chamber. “But only one of you will continue from this arena. Whoever holds the most medallions will be the victor.”
Whatever had happened next only appeared as vague shadows in Simon’s mind. He recalled leaping down into the arena, he remembered the cracking of bone, and the cries of pain. He stood in the middle, heaving for air while he surveyed the work he had done. All four of them were covered in bruises and cuts, some of them more mangled than the others, but Simon alone stood. A buzzer rang through the room and he looked down to count the ten medallions attached to his belt.
Everyone kept their distance from Simon as they left the training grounds. But his peers’ opinion of him was the last thing on his mind. Being the winner of today’s competition, the Father had requested to speak to him in the garden. He took one last look at his cohort. Kim limped because of a broken leg and Sam held his broken arm. Both of these Simon was distantly aware were his fault. He heard others complaining about a broken nose or a sprained wrist, but all of them grumbled over each other. Without another thought Simon turned to leave.
He made his way down the hall to the garden. But when he opened the door he was only met with a black void.
—
When Simon returned to the reality this time, he didn’t fight it. He sat in the memory as it faded away into a dream. He finally saw himself for who he had truly been then. A child soldier, indoctrinated into ceaseless violence. And in a moment the shock and disappointment faded in to rage. To think he had been so convinced of what he had been told as to not question it until there were far too many lives lost at his own hands. For a moment, he wished that he had died in that ocean. He had nothing left to give the universe. And the universe had nothing left for him.
But he was here regardless. Wherever here was. He rolled over to his side, which he noticed was much easier now that his left arm was missing, and let himself fade into the darkness of the med bay. He heard the chattering again outside the room. The man and the instrument seemed to be in conversation with each other, but Simon felt too numb to question that at the moment.
At first he couldn’t pick any words apart, but as they got closer he heard the man saying things about, “collecting samples,” “radiation,” and “strange phenomena.” The instrument he was talking to was oddly expressive in its responses to the man, able to change tone and volume seemingly at will. As the pair drew closer to the med bay, Simon heard half of the conversation.
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up on him surviving,” the man said. “Sure he may have woken up once, but he’s still incredibly weak and his vitals are all over the place.”
The instrument warbled out a response.
“I do not want him to die!” the man protested. “I'm just saying that his health is in bad shape and even if he was doing alright there's no telling what latent issues migh come up in the coming weeks!”
The instrument responded in what Simon assumed was a snarky tone.
“I am not—” the man sighed before continuing. “I am not having this conversation right now. We need to focus on the lab samples and keeping that guy stable, alright?”
The instrument warbled again, in what sounded like agreement.
“Thank you, now I've tried putting the samples under a few different stimuli. . .” The man's voice echoed down the hall and lulled Simon back to sleep.
—
The third dream was the shortest and strangest of them all. He opened his eyes to the shore with soft gray sand beneath his feet. The acidic red waves of AT-5 lapped at his ankles. He looked to his side and found the Father standing next to him.
“You will fulfill the prophecy of the Last Tree Simon,” the Father told him. “You and whatever is in the blood oceans. Simon, you are our savior.” His voice took on that fanatic edge Simon remembered from his youth. He reached out his hands to Simon but stopped short, as if he was too sacred to touch.
Simon’s breathing came out unevenly, even though he was distantly aware this was only a dream. “What if I don’t want to be?” he whispered into the vacuum around him.
The Father went silent, his face impassive as if made of stone. Simon stared back at him. He tensed his body, prepared for a strike, but as the seconds ticked on, his heart only raced faster and faster. Finally, the Father took a step closer to him and placed a hand on the back of his head.
“That was never your choice to make,” he said before forcing Simon to look down.
As he stared into the small waves, instead of his own face, he saw the face of the monster on his shoulders. And then, nothing.
—
Simon felt clammy and cold when he came to. He held his hand in front of his eyes, noticing how it shook before wiping his forehead. As he dragged his hand across his face, he felt a strange texture on its surface. It felt almost like. . . teeth? Bone? Had the blood burned through his skin to the bone or. . . he didn’t know.
He took in a shaky breath as he stared at the ceiling. He forced himself to sit up, thinking that if he focused on where he was, the dream might fade away from his thoughts. Along the wall in front of him were several counters with a sink, a drug synthesizer, and a bunch of medical supplies. On the left wall stood a sliding door with a panel next to it detailing the atmospheric conditions of the room. The door, of course, was locked from the outside according to the panel. Next to the door sat another med bed with the screen above switched off. The bed had a layer of dust covering it, marking years of disuse. Simon turned his head to look at the screen above his own bed and found it detailed, what he assumed were, his vitals. On the ceiling rested the mechanical arms that had prodded him when he first awoke, now dormant. The shadows along the walls remained stagnant, the room quiet as the grave.
A moment later the door slid open causing Simon's heart rate to jackrabbit in his chest again. His fists clenched in the sheets as if they would offer him some protection. A man stepped into the room with a cup in his hand and locked eyes with Simon.
“Oh, you're. . . awake,” the man said with a ghastly expression chiseled onto his features. His hand held a spoon suspended in mid air. “Um. . .” he trailed off as he went to set his cup down on the counter. “Sorry, I'm not all that good at introductions.” The man chuckled lightly. “I honestly didn't expect you to last thing long. . . I'm glad you're awake though!” He hastily added at the end. “I-I'm Grace.”
For a moment Simon didn’t respond, choosing to observe the man instead. His clothes were ill fitting and appeared better suited for a miner than a doctor. He wore a pair of glasses with cracked frames that had been stretched out and most likely couldn't fit his face anymore. Grace rubbed his neck and Simon singled in on an important tattoo.
“You're from Eden?” Simon asked and relaxed his hands on the sheets. He wasn't sure who he could trust anymore, but something from home felt welcome. “Why don't I recognize you?”
“Oh, that,” Grace said, with a drop of venom seeping into his voice. “I left a long time ago, don't really wanna talk about it.” He took a bite of, what Simon assumed were, mashed potatoes. “Not really ‘from’ anywhere these days.”
“Then where am I?” Simon asked instead. His previous apprehension returned to him.
“You are sitting in the med bay of an abandoned C.O.I. mining station,” Grace answered. “We're far enough from any point of interest that no one will find us.”
“Am I stuck here then?” Simon said. Some of his apprehension turned to anger.
“Well. . . Not exactly—”
“Then show me.” Simon nearly moved to stand but Grace rushed to his side before he could.
“Whoa whoa, slow down there, you're barely stable.” Grace held his arms out in front of Simon as if to catch him.
“I’m fiNE—" Simon moved his arm and ripped the IV out of it. He already felt woozy from the pain but moved to stand anyways. The moment he stepped onto the floor, he saw stars and fell forward.
Grace caught him as Simon slumped into his arms and pulled him back up onto the med bay. “Okay,” he grunted as he hefted Simon up. “Can you stay put for at least a few days so I can make sure you don't actually die?"
Simon grumbled but relented. “Fine.”
“Good,” Grace said with a snippy tone before turning to a touch pad beside Simon’s bed. “Hmm,” he muttered to himself while tapping through various graphs and charts. “I think I’ll need to take a blood sample at some point, but first you should probably get something to eat.” He turned to Simon. “We got rehydrated mashed potatoes and rehydrated beef stew. . . and that’s it.”
“I’ll. . . take the mashed potatoes.”
“Would you like some cheese in it?” Grace started to leave before turning back.
Simon gave him a dubious look.
“We can rehydrate that too.”
“. . . Sure.”
“Great, I’ll have some more questions for you later, but for now you should rest.” Grace turned to leave.
“Wait, I get to ask some questions of you in return.” Simon knitted his eyebrows together, daring Grace to challenge him.
He turned back and looked Simon over for a moment. “Alright.” He went back out into the hall and the doors shut behind him.