Chapter 1

REMY I

The Opterai flew across the horizon in a great flock, their long and jagged wings painting the sunset black. A native creature of Eden, they lived up to the planet's name. With their immense size, long and half-spiral beaks, and above all, their intelligence, the Opterai were a real bird of paradise, even if their colouring suggested otherwise. Long black feathers and ruby red eyes. Definitely terrifying to a closed mind.

Remy was sat beneath a hunched tree, its long leaves hanging around him. He was reading a book. A Thousand Poems of the Past, by the Literature Congress of 2247 GCE. An old book, missing great amounts of post-exodus works and even more After Eden New Wave stuff, but a favourite read, nonetheless. He dropped his gaze from the horizon and flipped through the pages. The book was paper, a small premium he'd begged his parents for when he was little. They delighted him further than he'd have imagined when they gifted him an original hardback edition.

That was almost ten years ago. To think he could say, ten years ago, and talk about something that actually happened still dumbfounded Remy. He was old enough to remember what things were like so far back. It shouldn't be like this. Time passing is perfectly normal. The others didn't seem to mind. They went along with their lives as if nothing had changed, when in reality so much did. So much time had passed, so many things had happened, to them and all the other people, so much had changed.

They landed on Eden, they left the ships, they started building their new homes. For once, they could look up and see a sky. A sky, clouds, a sun, the sunset, the great birds flying over it. So many new things, but everyone got used to them so quickly. How do they do it? Can't they appreciate what we just got? Unparalleled beauty that existed only in pictures and stories before is now all around us! And all anyone does with it is take a few pictures to post on the net.

Finally, Remy snapped out of his thoughts. He was holding the book open and hovering a finger over a poem. The Birds Far Off, by Dustak Sybelle. Now he remembered. Sybelle wrote of a child living in a village on the coast. He was a great swimmer, but his parents forbade him from going too far out, for great birds hunted there, and they would surely eat him. The boy heeded their advice at first and resigned his hobby and talent, but grew very bored after a few years and felt he was wasting his life. So he resolved to become a great swimmer again so that he may one day swim over there and kill the birds. When he grew up, he set out into the ocean, only to find himself on another piece of land populated by great crowned trees. And when he climbed them to see how far the forest stretched, he found one of the birds scolding its child, telling it that if it flew out too far, the people on the other side would surely eat him.

Remy wondered if there was something beyond the sunset. Some hidden land where the birds nest and tell their children to stay away from the other coast. Maybe they'd be able to truly appreciate all this beauty. Or maybe they'd be equally as complacent about it as everyone else. He imagined himself in another life, perhaps during some past era or in another universe entirely, where his eyes were good and his arms strong, where he had some great talent that he poured his passion into. He was a struggling writer, living from day to day, meal to meal, misery for everyone else in his life, but pleasant for him, because all the while he worked on his magnum opus. He was a big craftsman, fearsome and strong, yet also kind and lonely on the inside, constantly pushing people away the closer they got to him, finally finding some kindly lady that braved the depths of his heart for love. In one mere moment, he was that and so much more. All those roles to play, all those life-works to accomplish, but in reality he was just some kid, destined to wonder what he would amount to his whole life, not even finding out on his deathbed.

It gripped him. What's my life's work? He was studying. Moving through school. For what? To become a philanthropist construction magnate like his parents? That didn't interest him. He felt no passion for it. You rarely do, I suppose. It's not work if it's fun. Still, the concept of following in his family's footsteps didn't thrill him at all. I'd rather do poetry. Poetry was his strength. It was his talent. He liked it. But I'm deluding myself. All the greats struggled. With their mind, with their peers and contemporaries, with their lives' circumstances. And with their poetry, above all. Remy didn't struggle with it. He wrote things down as quickly as he thought them up. His prose flowed, and once he finished and read it over he never found anything he was dissatisfied with. It's probably weak when compared to some proper works. If I show it to a poetry critic, they'll probably just bash it. Write it off as the typical work of an angsty teenager. What could he do, then, when even his forte was just meh?

At least I can be true to myself. At least I don't armour myself in optimistic delusions. Seeing truth. Remy smiled. He took off his glasses. They were round and much bigger than his eyes. The glass was clear as air and the rim was white gold. Beautifully crafted. Very traditional. Come to think of it, most of the things in his life were very traditional. His parents could have had his eyes operated on or maybe replaced with a visual sensor. Fake eyes would be interesting. You could see far better than with a normal one, edit their colour, too. That'd be fake sight, though. A picture fed into the brain with cables. He looked up from his glasses. The sunset was there, but all the detail was gone. Just a bunch of colours blurring together. Even so, Remy liked the sight. It brought him back from his thoughts. Grounded him again. Just a boy sitting under a tree, enjoying the sunset.

He stood up. He smiled. He hugged himself and started stepping about on the hill. He didn't care about slipping and ruining his fancy school uniform or hurting himself. He allowed himself to be lost in the moment. The wind picked up. Remy felt it blow through his hair. Somewhere in the distance, an Opterai sounded its shriek. Remy stopped and looked around for it. Blurred as it was, he could make out a single black smudge over the sunset. This one lagged behind the flock.

"Don't be in such a hurry! Come here and enjoy the sight!" The bird didn't understand. Or maybe it did? Who knew what those birds were hiding. Maybe this one was lagging behind on purpose. Maybe it wanted to enjoy the sunset, unlike the rest. That's why it was flying so slow. Maybe it was following another path entirely. Remy envied the bird now. It could just soar away on its own, enjoy all the sights the planet had to offer. But it couldn't go everywhere. A wild Opterai wouldn't be tolerated in a city. Then again, that wouldn't be a problem if the city wasn't there. If the planet was still unpopulated. If only I had an uncivilized planet of my own.

A lonely planet filled with sights and empty of obligations. Now that'd be something. The concept was tantalizing. It made him think of the war being fought far away. They said that most of the fighting was taking place in some atmospheric sector. A piece of space with a bunch of empty planets. Maybe he could find his lonely planet there.

Join the military? It was a weird thought. None of his peers even thought of it. His parents wouldn't entertain the idea, either. But maybe that was a good thing. From the hardback book to the glasses, even to his old-style school and family estate, Remy felt he'd had too much tradition in his life. Like some rigid mold that housed every generation of his family. He thought of his father and his older brother, of how they were almost the same person. He thought of himself. Of how well his ambitions of poetry and enjoying the sights might fit into that.

They wouldn't, would they? He realized that he needed to break free from that tradition. But how? The military didn't seem too appealing. Even with all the empty planets. He'd probably spend most his time in space, either way, and he'd had more than enough of space. He'd grown up in it, seen the stars a thousand times, and they could never provide half the beauty of a planet's horizon. Then again, it might give him more of a chance to live the life he wanted. Besides, they were running tests on civilians back at the outpost outside Desca. He could test himself, see how good he'd be if he were to join up. Maybe...

Maybe he shouldn't have shown up this late. The sun had already set, and the moons were dancing away in the sky. The local shops were closed already. There was a small cafe at the outpost. "Night Light." Remy read the name out loud. It was classically designed. No light-up signs, just lamps along the fence to provide light to the outside tables. Inside, a tiled kitchen was lit up with a moody orange glow that streamed out into the darkness to either side of it. The outpost was at the very edge of the city, probably even outside. Except for the cafe, the outpost, and the few houses lining the end of the road, the only thing Remy could see were the rolling hills and a forest far off in the distance.

But the outpost was by far the most eye catching. It dwarfed all the other buildings with a monolithic design and displayed the word 'TESTING' above the entrance. In front of it, a small desk was set up. Someone was sitting behind it. The figure seemed to be slender and gray, with three rings of eye colours. A Phloxi. He wore the suit of an Eden Defence Force officer. A roomy orange jumpsuit, lined black on the edges and along the zipper. He seemed to be drinking a cup of something. Probably a shmet from the cafe nextdoor.

Remy approached, and the officer noticed him. He smiled, put his cup down and wiggled out of his seat. "Come on, I don't bite." Remy moved to the desk. "Hi."

"Hi?" The officer chuckled. "What, you just came to greet me?" Remy didn't know how to answer. The officer waved a hand. "Eh, no worries. First time, I assume?" He picked up a pad from the desk. "Registration papers. If you want to, that is." He looked at Remy with a raised eyebrow. It was thin and wrinkled his forehead all the way up to his cap. The eye was almost hypnotizing. "Right, yeah. I do." The officer smiled. "Good. If you have questions about anything, just ask me. The name's Crezka, by the way." He pointed at his nametag and leaned back.

Remy didn't need to ask any questions. He filled out the questionnaire in a few minutes. When the recruiter took a look at his data, he smiled. "Everything seems in order, Remy Castellan, aged 17." Remy thought for a moment. ""Oh! I wrote it all in one field, I'll-" The officer waved his hand again. "Eh, no biggie. It'll autocorrect, anyway. Now, the consent papers. We only need your consent now, but for recruiting we'll also need your parents... But that's neither here nor there. Go to hallway 2 when you enter. You'll be picked up by staff." Remy was surprised. "What, now?" Crezka gave him a look. "Do you see anyone else waiting in line?" The officer smiled and went back to his shmet.

Remy stepped through the entrance and lost himself the moment he entered. He was swarmed by three little test officials. Old men with lab coats, who ferried him from one test to another, all the while arguing about the results. They stuck him in a machine, threw him in a pool with weird cables attached to him, they put him through simulations of one vehicle or another, and performed dozens of diagnostics. Remy was so swept up he'd barely realized it had ended and he was back in front of the door. He looked back, bewildered.

"Heh. Yeah, it's a bit overwhelming." Crezka said as he walked up beside him. "I barely got any of that. I'm so confused." Remy lamented.

"Really? Judging by your evaluation, you knew exactly what you were doing in there." Remy raised an eyebrow at the officer. "Does that mean I'm good? Like a fighter pilot or something?" Little visions of a romantic and adventurous pilot floated around his mind. Remy imagined himself flying through space at high speeds, shooting down stock enemies and romancing his way across the stars with friend and foe. He was gripped by the thought. A dashing space rogue who breaks hearts and bodies, who's only love is a beautiful lonely sunset. He felt warm inside. Or maybe he was just sleepy.

Crezka gave him another look. "Fighter? With your results you'd get a quick ticket to the Mech Division!" Remy's mind melted. He imagined his pilot persona in a metallic colossus, battling it out with bitter rivals, sitting on his robot's arm as the sun dithers over the horizon, standing on its shoulder and terrifying the enemy with his legendary presence.

"You... You, uh, ok? Seem a little lost." Remy snapped back. "Um, yeah. Right. Right. Mech... Division..." Crezka stared at him. "Well... Anyway, here's your result pad. You hold on to that, and when- um, if you decide to join up you just show that to the recruiting depot. It's on the other side of the building."

This is it. This is my talent. Poetry and this... This... This piloting or whatever is what I'm truly good at. I feel it. A pilot ace poet, and idol of romance. I can live that life! I just have to dedicate to it. Yes, I'll struggle. Against my peers, against my parents, against myself. But that will make me all the stronger, more convicted! Yes, this is what all the greats are made of! I finally have a chance to make my life mean something! "Uh, yeah, I'll think it over." Remy turned around and started back home, deep in his romantic thoughts. "Remember, this was your own thing, but for recruitment we need your parent's consent. You're still not of age!" Crezka said, but his words fell on deaf ears. Preciously preoccupied deaf ears.