DJ Cowdall Inferno
A hundred inch HyperOLED screen opened up before them, creating a window to another world. It was a world of empty, black space. Planets dotted around them, leaving an eerie witchcraftian feel, like a portal to another dimension, instead of the surreal, gothic creation that was intended.
Falhood leaned slightly into the mass of electrons, feeling its buzz, its energy as it wrapped itself to his core. He breathed gently, allowing his body to quiver in time with the rapid sensation of his heart muscles, telling him he was suffocating. He wasn’t, but his neurosenses didn’t know it.
Time was short. Moody would be leaving them soon, and deep within the recesses of Falhood’s slumbering echosense alarms bells were ringing; it was all over, now, then and forever.
Something close pricked the cold empty skin of his back. Where before sweat had trickled down his torso, now there was a clammy, sickly wash that suggested an occurrence. Alaskin moved ever so quietly, as was her way, her breasts giving the merest touch to the fine hairs upon his back, but without looking, and even before he dared to breath her presence, he knew she was near, ready to share this so significant moment, and brief time when they would all stand together, and share a little death.
After the torment of seconds apart, a time in limbo with both separated by a need to cry out, but a long created conscious barrier protected them. They gave way. Alaskin was strong, but weak for him, needing to ensure only of his happiness. She lifted her arm to pull him before her, but let it drop beside her sheer, naked form. She rested her damp, tearful chin upon his shoulder and stood entwined in his form, creating a new shadow for the walls to admire. As one, they stood in darkness, surrounded by the light of the screen, waiting for the succession, the freedom giving, the ultimate submission to God and space.
Moody took in a vapid, deeply sad breath, licking at life like a child demanding a sweet. He looked at the immensity of the beauty he shared with countless billions of stars. Annidon had said space was a beautiful place, but for his whole life he had looked into it as if it were a void, swallowing his time, his precious time, when he could be doing something different. Tears formed weakly in his ducts, struggling to make presence in the emptiness of the negative gravity. As he stood on the silver platform, fear tried to envelope him, demanding he should hold court with life for whatever last meaningless seconds could be wrung from his wasted form. He had long been a strong man, physically and mentally, and he had no fears, but still it was a living breathing thing now, an adverse to flame, in a nothing place that was off-world, as licks of fire would die, fear grew like plankton on a barren ocean. He struggled to resist, and to deliver his desires for freedom from the chains of man, unto his god, and to fly as an Amazon into the vastness of this great unknown.
Falhood felt as empty as the scene before him, but the shivering flicker of sorrow played by out by Alaskin annoyed him. He felt anguish, he could foresee the loss, but he knew it was a dying man’s wish, and a brave end to a godly life, no better way to end such magnificence than to step into oblivion in such a unique and very bold manner. Such entreaties should not be diminished with disrespectful tears. He allowed his supporting shoulder to move subtly, but it was enough a signal, cease the chatter; allow a moment’s contemplation without the profanity of need.
Alaskin ceased her childish pleadings, and forged a closer physical bond with her man. She understood how he would deal with it, and tightened her grip to his flesh, her fingers sensing his pulse, uniting in his expression of pride, and pleasure at the imminent flight and death.
Moody flipped back the hardened plastic cover on his helmet. The sun was fierce, enough to blind a man, but he would not be denied this moment by such simple things. Two others behind him prodded and prepared, before waving in a simple motion, signifying this was it, he could begin his journey and go on to a better way, or end here in a torrent of mental and physical abuse.
Moody struggled to gain breath; taking hold of the strap beside him he clutched at the device and lifted his thumb to prepare and launch. Alaskin closed her eyes and prayed to Odin for his pleasure. Falhood stared like an eagle searching prey, as Moody pressed home. The boosters on his back ignited and he stepped – one – two – out into the cosmos, away from Earth. The rockets that were a part of him fired for brief seconds, but it was enough to propel him from the platform into the sea of stars and waste. His white suited body jettisoned off like a firework on Fawkes night. The smattering of flame from the rockets bore a crimson tale. Alaskin thought it the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Falhood agreed unspeaking, that his bravery was indeed something admirable, and achingly beautiful, that such a man should not fight to gain another grain of life by means of money or begging, but that he should seek one last great thrill and accept his fate: it was astonishing. Truly, great men still existed, exalted to the throne of the enlightened, and deep within his mind he harboured a dream that he too might one day share such courage, and wonder.
Moody fired off away from the trappings of life, flying like a phoenix, into the ashes of dead space, away from life. He had always wondered what it might be like to dive into a pool, and had done so, and wondered what of diving into vast oceans, and had done, and now, one final thrill, one final moment of wonder, to dive into God’s greatest creation, to be a traveller without craft, into perhaps a false blanket that enshrouded the muddy little planet, and covered the lives of the ants of people with meaningless squabbles and transactions. Moody opened his arms as he flew from life and love, ready to accept the next steps in his journey, into life and perhaps, death.