Hadassah Graydon and the Floating City

The Enclave

“Ah! S-Sorry!” Dassah muttered as she clumsily bumped into another woman getting onto the monorail. The chime signalling that the doors were closing made her go a bit too fast as she ran on last minute. The tall, professionally dressed woman gave her an aggravated once-over before calmly taking a seat. With a sigh, Dassah leaned against a bar by the car doors.

Looking out the window as the monorail sped around the city, she marveled at how slowly things seemed to move so far away, when the world closer to her went flying past so fast she could barely make out what it was. She could clearly see the bright silver buildings of the city glistening in the reddish sunlight of mid-morning, glittering against the lavender sky - but in front her was just… a world of blur.

One month. That was how long she had worked on the Enclave. Just one month. Two months, really, if you decided to count the generous one month training period the fellowship had allowed her to settle in - but it had been one month since actual responsibility was thrust on to her small shoulders.

“The next stop is: Bris Community Center, Bris Community Center. Please get off here for the Bris Community Center and the Bris 4 Hex-block. At this block, you can transfer to the Blue Hex line. Thank you for using the Enclave Monorail System. The next stop is: Bris Park,” came a soft voice that sounded in Dassah’s ear, courtesy of the micro speaker implants in her ear. Four more stops… Dassah puffed out her cheeks. She chose to ignore the funny look she was getting from a little dark grey scaled… boy? Girl?.... Dinosaur-man-child who was sitting with what she assumed was the large, muscular mother of similar colors. It could have been a father. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the little one’s round, curious red eyes watching her as it clung to a little chicken-like doll by the neck. If I ignore it, it will go away…

And it did, as the pair went to get off at the Bris Community Center stop.

But as they went to leave, the little one dropped its doll in the rush to get off. It screeched a little, pulling back on the hand of the adult with it - Dassah couldn’t tell if it was communicating or not, as her translator own wasn’t picking anything up.

She stared at the doll, wondering if she should somehow try to get it to the small creature, but before her thoughts turned into action, a tall, white and purple dinosaur person picked it up and held it out it to its owner, holding the car door’s sensors with its long, serpentine tail.

While the little one squealed with glee and went to grab it, the assumed mother grabbed the doll from the white and purple one with a threatening looking hiss. The white and purple one seemed to ignore the apparent hostility and got back on the monorail car unfazed. God they even hate each other... Thankful that she hadn’t picked up the doll after all, Dassah rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants.

She really needed to get better with the whole alien thing, or she wasn’t going to survive the next month, forget the what-came-after.

There was a tradeoff, of course. Dassah leaned her head against the bar next to the car doors and looked out the window again as the car jerked into life again.

The city itself was stunning beautiful; floating on its false ocean in hexagonal blocks set in attractive patterns, spreading out and rising up as tall as the structure would allow. All of the blocks were interconnected by its various monorails in the air, ferries on the sea, and the underwater subways beneath the surface of golden waters. The silver of the buildings reflected the orange and gold and lavender of the world around it like a million mirrors, reflections dancing as gentle waves rolled. Her eyes fell on a large, whale-like creature in the waters, flirting with the city as it floated. The ripples around it shimmered like a million lights as the gentle giant disappeared into the depths. It was a quiet, clean, and simple world, no matter how un-Earthly it was.

Turning her focus to her own reflection in the window, she was faced with a far less impressive sight. How small she felt, in the midst of it all. She tried to arrange her simple, mousey, brown hair so that it looked a little less like she just woke up and barely dragged a comb through it. Her bangs needed to be trimmed. Again. At the very least, she could do that much to help offset her abnormally pale, sunken face. Her generally blue-grey eyes looked darker today, reflecting the navy color of her dress jacket, and adding to the weight of the bags under her eyes. Usually she would have attempted to hide it all with makeup, but she had had woken up later than she should have and had no time. And instead I look like a zombie… couldn’t I at least have pulled off vampire, body? Thankfully her freckles lightened with the pallor of her skin.

As she fought with her appearance, small murmurs began to reach her ears. Feeling that the atmosphere around her had turned strange, she clutched her purse tightly and looked around the car. Her eyes darted back and forth between the dinosaur people and the pig people and the bat people. She mostly ignored the more human-esque ones; they would have little reason to bother with her - but the others… They aren’t looking at me, are they? Do I look strange? Did I do something wrong?

It seemed, however, that her fears were needless.

The monorail began to slow, and the soft voice said: “The next stop is: Bris Park, Bris Park. Please get off here for Bris Park and the Bris 6 Hex-block. At this block, you can transfer to the Cerulean Hex line. Thank you for using the Enclave Monorail System. The next stop is The Bris-Io Intersect.”

Everyone on the car looked a bit concerned, whispering to one another as they shot glances at the holo-screen that hung in the center of the car. The local news program was running with its usual blonde announcer speaking with a familiar mugshot hanging in the air next to her face. Furrowing her brow, Dassah fiddled with her smartwatch, connecting her receiver to the monorail telecast.The mugshot disappeared before she turned on the sound, but the news ticker told her to story would be back in a moment.

Dassah tuned out an entertainment story that ran in between, but it switched back quite fast.

The pretty announcer reappeared on the screen, her curly blonde hair bouncing a little as she spoke: “Going back to the main stories of the day, the Enclave Police have announced that they are looking at reopening the case of Gren Yilin. For those of you just tuning in, Gren Yilin was a programmer for the now highly successful Varier Cooperation six years ago, when he was found guilty of planting a malicious code into the alpha version of the Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game, “TheirWorld”, that ended with the deaths of two hundred and thirty-six people testing the game, and injuring one hundred and forty others.” The woman's face was replaced with the same mugshot from earlier. It was an unsettling image of a man whose messy white hair and beard covered most of his face. “Yilin, a half human, half valkyrian, has been convicted and sentenced to life in prison. However, at a press conference earlier today, the chief of the EP has stated that they are looking to reopen the case, stating that incoming eye-witness testimonies from the survivors suggest that Yilin may not have been working alone.”

The monorail stopped and people began to shuffle off, but Dassah kept her eyes on the screen as the image flipped to a recording of the press conference that the announcer spoke of. A sharp looking valkyrian woman stood tall in a formal, decorated uniform. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, making the five small circular gemstone implants, traditional valkyrian enhancements called ‘mystriks’, near her right ear quite visible.

One could almost feel her commanding presence through the screen as the woman orated: “We grieve today. We grieve today, on the anniversary of a great tragedy that ended the lives of two hundred and forty Enclavian scholars,” her silvery eyes reflected in the camera with an unsettling shine. “These crimes against our innocent people in their quest for knowledge shall not be forgotten, nor forgiven. As defenders of this floating continent that we call our home, guardians of this universe in which we live and thrive, it is our mission - the lifelong dedication of the EP - to make this home of ours better, safer. We are now, once again, being put to the test.

“While those two hundred and forty people died in the horrific events six years ago, there were another one hundred and thirty-six others who were spared - but fell into comas. While there have been those who have, unfortunately, passed away since, over the past several months, we are happy to report that nearly fifty of those have awoken. Those who have come forward have passed on harrowing tales of that day as if were just yesterday. It is because of these people, these stories, that we are moving forward with this motion to reopen the case of one, Gren Yilin, and seek out others who may have played a role in the atrocity that happened on our watch so long ago. We ask, also, that any of you out there who may have relevant information, no matter how small, please present it to your local EP office that may work together for a safer future.”

The valkyrian were an interesting people. Unless their mystriks were visible or you spent a long time with them and noticed their slow age progression, it was nearly impossible to tell that they were any different from humans. There were two other potential signifiers; one being their absolute support of the crusade for knowledge - which they spoke of, often. The valkyrian were a race that basically lived for information and knowledge; they were the ones who built places like the Enclave in the first place. Dassah didn’t hate it - in fact, she quite respected the valkyrian. Still, being a human, sometimes it came across as… odd or fanatical. The other potential signifier was if they had a white or grey, sometimes painted, mask on their person - a traditional coming-of-age symbol among the valkyrian, though not everyone chose to carry theirs in public.

The channel had switched back to the face of a bearded male announcer with bright red hair and a deep voice. “Despite the controversy around the events from six years ago, the release of the game, “TheirWorld”, has met with largely positive reception, and has sold a record number of licences since it was released to the public five months ago.”

Crossing her arms, Dassah’s thoughts drifted. The world - well, the universe, really - was a strange place. She remembered that case from six years ago; if only vaguely. She had followed TheirWorld from it’s inception nearly a decade before. Though Varier Co. had become a relatively affluent force in the world of business since then, it was actually hard to see why. After the infamous case of Gren Yilin, they had spent nearly all of the last six years trying to win back the trust of the public. What was true, was that the innovative technology that they had created to make TheirWorld a reality had brought them far, and gave them a lot of extra funds to push around - but there were still those who remembered that first major failure and refused to let it go. Conspiracy theories on the subject were abundant on the community forums; from vigilante behavior to corrupt politicians, to mind control and brainwashing. While most of those following the project not wearing tin hats were thankful that it wasn’t immediately canceled after that incident, it was never logically clear as to why it wasn’t. Even Dassah had a hard time justifying it. It was just a game, after all.

A smile grew across her lips.

After eleven years of waiting, she would finally be able to play.

TheirWorld.

Of course, she would have to get through the day, first. It was her reward for finishing her first month of work.

Her eyes flipped back to the screen as they put up the crest of the Enclave Police Department - a pair of red chimera-like creatures holding a sword and shield - on the screen. The red haired announcer had moved on to another story Dassah had been following: a recent string of murders that had been plaguing several hex cities.

The blonde announcer came back on the screen with her pale blue mystics sparkling in the lights. “While neither the Virtual Crimes Unit or the investigators in charge of the case have confirmed that they are working together, the commissioners of these cities and the VCU have issued several notices about internet safety and watching out for suspicious activity in the net based communities. Both have also recently issued warnings about street safety, and reminders about the built-in safety features found in all handheld and micro-communication devices.”

At the announcer's words, Dassah glanced at her smartwatch. The situation made her family worry more than it did her, but she often wondered about it - especially since the city-hex she lived in was close to one of those were the murders had taken place.

Overall though, the Enclave was a fairly safe place - even if it was full of weird things.

Like the large pig-man that was staring at her from across the way. Dassah tried to ignore the little bit of drool she saw glistening in the monorail lights by looking back up at the TV, but the news had switched to some sort of economics mumbo-jumbo that Dassah couldn’t understand whether it was was translated to English or not. Grimacing, she looked around the car in search of something - anything - to look at. What exactly was life when you were surrounded by bugs and lizards in suits, reading newspapers and discussing politics?

Dassah looked back out the window. The monorail has stopped again in some sort of park area. Trees with bright blue leaves and black flowers that hung on vine-like branches, cascading down to the ground like weeping willows over a golden pond, giving shade to little green and pink ducks that were nibbling on healthy teal grass. It was a place that she saw everyday, yet it still seemed so foreign - no matter how beautiful she thought it was.

The Enclave was crafted in the image of the valkyrian homeworld - making her more of an alien than the aliens around her, really. What does an alien call other aliens? Dassah wondered, thinking that there really needed to be a better, general term for ‘not my people’.

This was her life.

But when the surreal becomes normal, then what’s left?

Even though she had been on the Enclave for only two months, given her history of living in other countries prior, she had expected to have been far better adjusted than she was.

The truth was, living on the Enclave wasn’t much different from living anywhere else. Sure, the sky was pretty shades of lavender and the grass was teal and smelled like cocoa powder, but once she had adjusted to those things that were out of her degrees of normal, it wasn’t exactly special. As she had expected, her life was all about waking up to coffee, going to work, then going home where she hoped she had the strength left in her to make dinner and have a bath. She wasn’t troubled with money; she had enough thanks to the generous stipend given to teachers on a monthly basis, and the fact that all housing on the Enclave was given out rent free.

The problem was everything else - namely, the people.

Humans frightened her on a good day, let alone the melting pot of races and species from all over the known galaxies living on the Enclave. Earth had seen its share of aliens, but there were just as many of the known species that chose to not have a presence there. Accepting those others, she knew, was going to take time - especially when it came to the aggressive ones and the ones rumored to eat people. Dassah glanced behind her a bit and groaned inwardly as the pig man behind her was snorting, still drooling, and looking even more shifty.

“The next stop is: Io Community Center, Io Community Center. Please get off here for the Io Community Center and the Io 4 Hex-block. At this block, you can transfer to the Jade Hex line. Thank you for using the Enclave Monorail System. The next stop is: Io Market.”

Dassah froze, and looked up at the train map.

“Oh, shit!” she said out loud, just audible enough for the entire train to hear her and her foreign tongue as she stomped her foot. She had over shot her stop by a whole two stops. Biting back the tears, she grumbled to herself as she got off at the Io Community Center to wait for the monorail back.

This was her life - and she wasn’t good at it.

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