Above the white foamy line, the transparent casing of the flask presents an intimate view of the slim senile man, his bald head full of wrinkles and his yellow irises wide in awe. Staring straight into the flask, a wide grin breaks on his face, exposing his yellow and distorted teeth, an unpleasant smile yet concurrently so innocent.

Standing in the white room, the man brings his face even closer to the case, so close that his forehead nearly touches it, as he inspects it intimately for a few moments of delight.

From outside the flask, the man proudly celebrates, “And that should keep me on auto for a while!” He then finally brings his face away from the curved casing, and sighs in relief.

In front of the black countertop in the kitchen room of the tree townhouse, Ekitai picks up the sidearm flask full of purple liquid with his left hand, and then glances at an array of small handheld flasks placed all over the table, the ones he’d typically drink from.

On all of the tables in the kitchen, from the ones along the walls to the ones bordering the room from the center, are countless vials, beakers, and flasks of various shapes, from florence to sidearm to volumetric all chaotically placed without order, most of them filled with liquids with colors across the rainbow, blue, orange, purple, even some that appear nearly white.

Among the containers are also a couple of the large silver devices resembling pots although none of them appear to be operating as none have an ongoing timer nor are they emitting any gasses. Still, the entire kitchen seems to have become a chemical laboratory at least in makeshift.

Behind Ekitai, the windows reveal that the sky has become much darker, for it was now evening and the sky was an intense cyan rather than bright sky blue. Even with the clouds covering the sky, the evening view is still magnificent, pouring intense cyan light into the kitchen.

On the table in front of the chemist, nearly all the canteens are full of diversely colored substances. However, one of the flasks in particular is entirely empty, and that one specifically is then picked up by the bony hand.

Holding both the large conal flask as well as the smaller handheld canteen, Ekitai swiftly pours the purple liquid from the sidearm flask into the empty canteen while humming, not in a cautious and meticulous manner but rather haphazardly and carefree.

It’s a miracle that none of the liquid pours out or spills, as instead he successfully fills the canteen and tilts the flask upright to conclude spillage. He then places the flask back on the table, and holds the canteen up in front of himself, giving it a slight shake.

In the same fashion as a cook tasting his work in progress to test its quality for the necessary standard, Ekitai takes a swig from the canteen, tasting the purple liquid once before then taking it off his chapped lips and letting out a satisfied sigh.

With the forced accent of a stereotypical aristocrat, Ekitai shakes his canteen again while observing, “My my, what a fine beverage.”

“I’m so happy for you that you got what you wanted,” gleefully exclaims the voice of Kokei as she enters the kitchen and strides behind Ekitai’s back, wearing a wide smile with shut eyes in an exaggerated display of joy.

After making her way behind Ekitai, she then throws both of her arms on his shoulders, a sign of friendly affection.

Then her pink fingernails sink into his shoulders as she continues with the same tone, “But maybe you shouldn’t turn the kitchen into a chemistry lab when it’s supposed to be where we cook the food that you won’t shut up asking for!”

“Just tell him to clean up after himself and there won’t be a problem,” butts in another female voice, the voice of Dana, who emits from behind the two to which they both face the source with curious expressions.

Next to the kitchen, where the dining room stands, is the circular dining table where Dana rests, seated on the chair facing the two. In front of her is a circular white plate with minimal scraps of what appears to be batches of a red sauce and a few small green vegetables among some short yellow spaghetti strands, the remains of dinner. Beside the plate is a transparent cup which has already been finished, but water droplets indicate that it had specifically been used. In front of two of the other chairs around the table are also similarly completed plates and cups, calculated to a total of three completed meals.

She leans back on the dining chair, looking up at the two in the kitchen bickering over the odd choice of renovation after the two boys had returned home. She sighs and shakes her head at the immaturity of the two, having to take the role as the sole mature figure in the house of adults.

She then raises her head and reasons, “We’ve already eaten, well besides Medit I guess, but you know him. I’m sure this…’lab’ going on will be gone by tomorrow morning.”

Intrigued with the slight tilt of his head, Ekitai inquires curiously, “Wait, where is he?” while still holding his canteen.

Behind Ekitai, Kokei slips her fingers off of his shoulders before ranting after a tsk, “If he isn’t burning all his time in a restroom to the point where he may as well wear one of those adult diapers which actually maybe he should make for himself, maybe he’s actually genuinely seriously really possibly working on a plan, you know, the plan that this whole thing has been revolving around. I mean seriously it’s almost like he thought we were on vacation or something, and seriously how come the ‘man who can make anything’ had to waste a whole freaking day to take you arts and crafts shopping when he should’ve been able to do it all in one second? I mean finally he’s actually doing his real work, or maybe he’s in the restroom again; who knows really; honestly I don’t know why he’s so paranoid about hiding from Exitium when he’s clearly perfectly capable of staying out of our sight!”

An exhale exudes from Dana’s nose as a subtle sigh, lowering her head to the table before then answering more precisely, “He’s upstairs in his bedroom, all the doors are numbered and he has ‘4.’ Maybe you should ask just to make sure if he wants to eat, we still have enough for him.”

Smiling once again, Ekitai nods his head and gives a “Mm,” before then stashing his canteen in his overcoat’s interior pocket. He then begins walking towards the exit of the kitchen, leaving towards the center of the room as per Dana’s request, leaving Kokei in the kitchen surrounded by the strange concoctions as she murmurs under her breath, “Seems his body has more than enough to digest already…” to which Dana casts a glance at her.

Inside a room unlit but for the deep cyan sunlight of the evening sky through the leaf shaped window next to the rounded corner desk, the man with four white locks of hair sits on the accompanying chair facing the wall, his back hunched over and his arms by his lap as he grunts constantly to himself, alone.

He continues to grunt while in this bent position in the room otherwise entirely silent, making his own grunts the only sounds in the whole enclosed space. His head is tilted down to face his lap, exposing his pale nape.

A sudden whooshing sound of a door dematerialization invites a streak of white light into the room from behind the man, casting the brightest ray albeit partially shrouded by a silhouette that appears from the other side of the room.

A moment after the door’s opening, the grunting halts followed by a quieter whoosh, and suddenly the entire room is covered in blue holographic projections, with wide detailed three dimensional maps levitating a few feet over the floor and logs of flat screens creating an entire wall in front of the bed. As though the man was hiding up another activity by hastily switching to what appears normal given what his work was meant to be, he covers himself with screens of work with blue holograms of Earths above him and stacks of flat screens like papers on the table.

Simultaneously the man pivots his head around with alert azure eyes on his face so white that it perfectly absorbs the cyan sunlight that covers half his face.

By the opposite side of the bedroom in the opened doorway stands a tall silhouette with a creepy, inhumanly slender physique. It just stalks still in the doorway, staring straight at the man in the room.

Spinning the entire chair, the man in the room turns to face the silhouette with a sharp glare, as though feeling a threatening presence of one he had to combat.

Immediately upon the chair’s spin, the silhouette shrieks and shields both of its eyes, turning away and blurting, “Oh god wait!” in the familiar raspy old voice.

Staring straight at the doorway with a relieved but puzzled expression while dressed full in his leather jacket and black pants, Meditat tilts his head before imploring, “Uhm…Ekitai?”

Still covering his shut eyes, the man in the doorway shivers for an extra moment, but then cautiously lowers both of his hands while slowly opening his yellow eyes.

Upon receiving a clear image, his eyes then widen entirely to normal, and he drops both of his arms before dropping a heavy sigh of relief. He steps forth into the room, and upon being in a space more open and being touched by more light from the front due to all the holograms, he reveals himself in his brown overcoat and clear bony skin as Ekitai indeed.

He shakes his head and thanks gratefully, “Phew, I thought you were doing…something very…never mind.”

Puzzled by Ekitai’s strange thought process, Meditat raises his eyebrows in suspicion, his hands by the sides of his lap. He remains silent to Ekitai’s awkwardness, sitting amongst the collection of logs and applications used for his work.

Desperate for a recovery from this uncomfortable situation, Ekitai steps forward again and nervously chuckles while scratching the back of his head and explaining, “Dana wanted to know if you wanted to eat since we all did, I was told I could find you here.”

After receiving the true excuse for the intrusion, Meditat can only sigh and spin his chair back around to face his table.

Returning to his work, Meditat picks up one of the flat screens off his desk and begins reading it as though going through paperwork. His eyes inspect the contents of the screen meticulously as he answers, “I’m good, thanks. How are the others?”

Relaxed fully, Ekitai walks deeper into the room and approaches Meditat while rolling his shoulders. He raises his head in contemplation while answering, “Fine, they were just talking about meetings and environments or whatever during dinner, I would’ve actually made the conversation interesting if you didn’t already tell them that the worst part of the errand was ‘the traffic '.”

“You’re welcome, having them know that we nearly lost this position would only invite unnecessary conflict. Nevertheless, at least now we have time to plan. I’d much prefer having the tools and resources in my real house, but for now my Connect will have to suffice,” grouches Meditat while placing the screen he was reading back on the desk and picking up another to analyze in search for usable information.

After shrugging his shoulders, Ekitai further approaches Meditat and pulls his flask from out of his overcoat’s pockets, the one filled with purple liquid that he stashed just prior. He takes a leisurely sip from his flask and walks up to Meditat’s bed before throwing himself on the edge, sitting on the bed.

He kicks his feet back and forth, dangling over the hovering bed which stands next to Meditat’s desk, and he takes another sip comfortably while Meditat clearly is seeking to focus on his work.

Regardless, Ekitai takes the flask off his mouth and places it on the bedside stand between himself and the desk. He then leans back while sitting on the bed, facing the ceiling with a soft hum.

Interrupted by the placement of the flask on the stand, Meditat quickly glances at the flask of purple liquid beside him before then returning his gaze to the blue screens where he continues reading.

Resting after a long day, Ekitai in a calm voice wonders, “About that, so Kokei has been sort of wondering about this ever since we went to your house but she’s always been too afraid to say it, so like do you make your own credits, like do you use your powers to give yourself money? Because, well, I mean I’m just going to say it, that’s like the first thing I’d think of doing if I had your powers, just voicing. I mean it sort of makes sense, like you got the nicest house I’ve ever seen, and this whole underground cave going on, like I mean come on, you can talk to me. I understand.”

Again interrupted in the middle of his research, Meditat lets out an explicit groan before answering in an irritated tone, “No, Ekitai, I didn’t, that would effectively be counterfeit, which is a crime. And besides, if I just mindlessly made credits and spent them without a second thought, that’d cause something known as inflation, which I don’t want to contribute to. No, I made my credits through legitimate revenue from grueling years of hard work and climbing up positions without taking wrongful shortcuts.”

In exhaustion, Ekitai lays on the white bed as if it was his which it wasn’t. He lets out a fatigued sigh, staring up at the ceiling while Meditat continues his reading.

His arms spread out to cover as much of the bed as he can, he remarks softly, “The strongest power with the strongest filter, what a conundrum.”

His eyes still on the screens, Meditat tightens his gaze into a glare, and his lips slightly part as though he was prepared to argue back. He holds his expression for a few seconds in contemplation, his head slightly turning.

Instead however, he closes his mouth, and slightly swivels his chair to the side towards the bedside stand. He then casually swipes the flask off of the stand, and brings it to his own mouth as he tilts his head back, about to take a swig for his own.

In between Meditat’s reopened mouth and the aperture for the tilted flask which begins to flood the purple liquid towards the opening, Ekitai immediately springs up from the bed with a petrified expression beyond any fear ever displayed prior, and he reaches his hand forwards while desperately crying, “WAIT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!”

Only a few centimeters from contact, Meditat suddenly pulls the flask away from his mouth with wide shot eyes in shock to the intense shout, and he promptly faces Ekitai while holding the flask a few inches away from him and tilting it upright again. He keeps it in his hands still, but now has a suspicious expression on his face with a raised eyebrow.

Taken aback by the peculiar response, Meditat calmly asks, “What’s your deal? You come in here while I’m clearly occupied with work and spew your nonsensical small talk, the least you could do is let me refresh myself.”

Shivering frantically sitting upright on the bed, Ekitai keeps his hand reaching for the flask, albeit about a foot short from contact.

He then nervously chuckles as sweat drips down his forehead upon being called out for his bizarre behavior, and he gulps before trying to caution, “Well, fair, but uh…well…you see…uh…that stuff is very strong…like it’s not for weak stomachs ahah…it’s an acquired taste so maybe you just shouldn’t be drinking that, if you really want something of mine in which I’m honored I can make something for you that’s a bit…tamer.”

Tsking from the apparent challenge, Meditat scowls and insists, “You think I can’t handle a drink? Please, I can assure you I don’t need any dilution, if you can handle this then so can I. And after all I did to help you secure this in the first place today, it’s only appropriate that I get some of this reward.”

He then brings the flask up towards his mouth again, tilting both it and his own head in preparation to take a drink, tenacious in taking a sip of the drink.

He brings the aperture of the flask close to his mouth, ready to make contact again, and he closes his eyes to enjoy the beverage Ekitai appears so fond of.

Leaping off the bed, Ekitai suddenly grabs Meditat’s wrist tightly, and begins tugging the flask towards him in an attempt to wrestle it away.

Astonished by the aggressive action, Meditat growls while yanking the flask towards himself, wrestling for the flask back.

Groaning from the exertion of strength needed to wrestle with the surprisingly physically strong man despite the decrepit state he appears in, Ekitai pulls all his own strength into pulling the flask to him, fighting over it standing in front of the leaf window.

In a swift move Meditat throws his foot into Ekitai’s stomach and simultaneously yanks the flask back, successfully ripping Ekitai’s grasp off and throwing him back against the bed, to which he grunts in pain from the strike.

While Ekitai groans in pain, laying on the bed once again, Meditat glares straight at him with piercing azure eyes filled with rage and fury. He tightly grips the flask, still seated by his desk, but now diverting all his attention straight to Ekitai.

In a deep voice of clear discontent, he then aggressively rebukes, “What is wrong with you? Seriously, I let you live in my life, ride in my pod, live off my expenses, rest in my room, and you can’t let me take a single sip of this drink?”

He tsks again and shakes his head, facing away from Ekitai after the rant.

Insistent, Meditat then brings the flask back up towards his mouth again, once again about to drink from it as regardless of the resistance he still persists in taking a drink of a beverage which very well may taste awful, but at this point that wasn’t a concern of his.

Again springing back up, Ekitai sighs in recovery, his face initially groggy and fatigued. Upon facing the sight before him however, his eyes widen as his face falls into an expression of pure shock.

Sitting between Meditat’s parted lips and the tilted aperture that the purple liquid floods towards to reach the open mouth, Ekitai can do nothing but hopelessly throw his arm forwards between the closing gap and cry: “IT’LL MAKE YOU IMMORTAL!”

His lips nearly touching the flask’s opening, Meditat’s eyes shoot wide open in shock with a sharp inhale as behind him the supersun begins to set, and he immediately pulls the flask away from his mouth and slams it on the bedside stand where he had picked it up from, causing the liquid inside to slosh.

Ekitai pants heavily, his heart thumping out of his chest as he watches Meditat relinquish the drink, his gaze moving from him to the bedside stand and then back at him.

Also panting if not more, Meditat glares straight at Ekitai with serrated eyes, and after gulping to control himself, he exclaims in disbelief, “What?”

Still panting and only able to speak between heavy breaths, Ekitai waves his hand limply and elaborates, “That liquid…it’s a connotation that extends your lifespan indefinitely…it’s something I’ve been perfecting throughout my life…of eight hundred and forty seven years.”

Gazing with wide, gleaming blue eyes in a stare of combined horror and amazement, Meditat just gazes straight at Ekitai with a hanging jaw, at first completely speechless.

His shimmering azure irises trained straight on the self proclaimed immortal, he stutters his revelation: “That’s…that’s before….”

“Yes, I lived at a time when vehicles used to use wheels and had to stay on the ground, I lived at a time when the sun was yellow and the other planets were completely different and had no known life,” confirms Ekitai, whose demeanor has calmed down, as now he sits still on the bed with his head hanging low and his voice soft, nearly in a whisper.

Still astonished, Meditat shakes his head again before admitting, “I mean, this isn’t the first instance of an immortal I’ve passed, far from, but…well I guess you can tell by how they live, either they’re cautious about every little touch or they’re backed up by invincibility or some grand protection that makes them untouchable. But you…how even?”

Quietly sighing as now there was now turning back, Ekitai quietly confesses: “I guess I’ve always had a way with chemistry, I was able to make mixtures that scientifically shouldn’t exist, I guess I sort of had a second brain for this sort of thing. In my first century of life I didn’t really make that many crazy things, but that drink was the highlight of it all, the first elixir of immortality that wasn’t harnessed by some extradimensional anomalies or requiring some backdoor method such as cryogenic preservation. I was fascinated with my world, but I also had the feeling that there was so much that would happen after my death that I’d miss, so many discoveries and advancements that would happen while I’d be a rotting corpse somewhere. I had this calling that I needed to find some way to keep going forward, to keep moving forward, past death, I had to see what else there would be. And so I found some way of effectively stretching my own life, making myself age so much slower that I looked like a young adult while people my age were going into nursing homes back when that was a thing. And for the first few centuries I really did love it, I mean I got to keep my youthful charm and there was so much to see, watching flying cars become a reality was a dream come true. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened those couple centuries ago, never have I ever had an experience even close to being as incredible as it was being pulled into a whole new space where there were a whole other ninety nine Earths just like mine. When people were carefully trying to communicate with each other, forming alliances and fighting wars, and Exhumans was something else entirely, it was like everyone was a superhero. Unfortunately I missed the jackpot, I wasn’t sure if it was something I did with my body, because by that time my hair was getting white and I was starting to feel pains in my body. But by god that first century was truly incredible, adventuring to whole other Earths just like mine but so different with whole other ways of life and entirely new types of species, it was like a wild west out there! It really was great…and it came just in time to…to be honest life on just one Earth was starting to get stale for me, and I guess it’s hard making meaningful connections with people when you know you’ll outlive them anyways. By no means am I invincible though, if you shoot me between the eyes right now that’ll be the end of me, at first I was careful with my life because I still wanted to see how far I could go, but at some point I got tired living in a cage and just started going off on crazy dangerous adventures where everyday I was risking my life. And over time, that drink you were just about to taste slowly started to wear my body out, I mean sure it stretched my life but eventually it was going to get real thin. Eventually everything started to hurt, back pains and such, but then walking, hell I’ve been getting used to it but even breathing is a pain.”

Watching the story unfold, Meditat listens to Ekitai continue, “Eight centuries in, my whole body became a walking corpse. I guess it always was, but I really can feel it. I guess yeah technically at any moment I could simply just…stop…but I guess if I went to my room and did that right now, well I guess then I’d have to ask myself if it was even worth it from the beginning. I mean sure, I experienced so much. I've made the most of time by exploring all the worlds I can and getting into any trouble I could, but for some reason even after all of that, I feel like I haven’t fulfilled that quota, I feel like I haven’t really earned my life. Sure I’ve met interesting people throughout my long life, and I’ll admit I’ve had some fun times with some very interesting girls, but in the end really all they were was an adventure, they were a journey I went on but nothing past that. I mean people say things like ‘I’ll dedicate my life to this craft’ or ‘I’d die for this person,’ but I’ve never actually understood it to feel that way since I’ve never had anything or anyone to feel that way for. I guess it might be insensitive to say this because to a degree I know how much this Exitium guy means to you, but later down the line I’ll probably just look back on this as that time I jumped around a couple worlds with some strangers, and that’ll be that. And to be honest, I know I won’t stop drinking it, I need to to keep myself alive but I won’t stop because even after all these years I feel like if it all ends here then it’ll all have been a waste. It’s a game now, my only reason to live is to find one, and no matter how much I want to call it quits now, I just can’t.”

After sighing softly, Ekitai finally raises his head to Meditat, and without raising his voice he concludes, “So…I guess what I’m trying to say is that you don’t want to take that drink…because every day I ask myself if maybe I should have just died in the 21st century like a normal person.”

Staring still, facing straight at Ekitai, Meditat just watches in silence with wide eyes, his mouth closed in a slight frown. He remains speechless, not even able to part his lips again, nor move another muscle.

Sighing again, Ekitai throws himself off of the white bed and back onto his feet. He then swipes the flask off of the bedside stand, and begins walking towards the exit door, to which Meditat slowly turns his head to trail him, his face unchanged.

On his way towards the exit, Ekitai abruptly stops, standing still with his back facing Meditat. He then softly exhales, and turns around to face him.

Meditat still gazes up at him in silence, frowning slightly.

Staring right back, Ekitai releases a nervous chuckle with a slight grin, and he then playfully remarks, “On second thought, maybe I should’ve just said it was poison, and left it at that.”

Ekitai then brings the flask up to his mouth and tilts both it and his head back. He draws the flask close to his parted lips while in between the two Meditat silently stares at his chair. The purple liquid floods towards the aperture as Ekitai closes his eyes and closes the gap, and all Meditat can do is stare.

At last the aperture makes contact with Ekitai’s lips, and the purple liquid floods in through his mouth and down his throat where he then gulps twice, consuming the drink before Meditat’s eyes.

He then tilts the flask upright as well as his head as he pulls the flask off of his head, separating the two as still Meditat just stares.

In front of Meditat, Ekitai stashes the flask in the interior pocket of his brown overcoat, and he turns back to face the door. He trudges to the exit door and walks through it, leaving Meditat’s room and stopping in the center of the circular lobby between the bedrooms.

In front of the man in the room, the door materializes shut, closing off the white light as the calm hum of the elevator pad is suppressed ahead.

With the closing of the light, and the completed setting of the supersun, the only prominent source of light is the blue trace of the holographic work surrounding him, covering his room with globes, maps, and sheets of data.

But rather than tending to that work, all Meditat can do is stare at the closed door in silence, sitting next to the dark window displaying the distant cloudy islands of golden cities below the darkening sky.

Back in silence, the man in the room sits and gazes at the door without a sound, his locks draping beside him.

He just watches, staring into the void, surrounded by the tasks of the future as he stares at the logs of the past.