“Hey! Wait up!” Pal gasped out the request, to no avail. The boy had already turned the edge beyond his view; had already taken all sight and sound of his movement with his retreating form. Pal leaned over his knees in crouched, deep-breathing pain from the chase. His heavy gasps echoed inside his helmet.
He’d need to keep going, he knew. He only had a few tics before -too late. Before his ground-pointed eyes, everything shifted and morphed. If his headgear had not been equipped with anti-vertigo software, Pal would have retched at the twisting, swarming, mixing colors and land forms. He had no idea how the boy he was pursuing, by all appearances unencumbered by gear, could continue on through these conditions. How the boy could move so quickly. How the boy even existed, really.
Pal looked up from the sky beneath his feet, noted the re-orientation of his surroundings, and promptly crashed to the surface above him. “Eurgh,” he groaned, feeling the sluggishness and some of the bruising while his suit’s systems kicked in. He rose as it mended; scouted around.
Before the last shift he had been skidding around contoured shapes that rose from sand-like material. The ambient light had been annoyingly bright, yet also a pleasant shade of pink. Now, Pal noted, he seemed to be in a city. This city was unlike any he’d been in before, but not unlike images he’d studied at elementary training. “These are buildings,” his memory could hear an artificial instructor noting. “Homo sapiens sapiens inhabited and busied itself within these structures.”
Keeping his feet moving, Pal tilted his head back. The buildings reached beyond his sight. What a miserable, backwards way to exist. He supposed all species must start somewhere, but could never understand why his ancestors’ timeline progressed from perfection to disaster. Why had they sought what was worse?
He heard a sound and snapped to attention. A face with large, crescent eyes peered at him just ahead. The boy.
Pal sprinted without thought toward his quarry. The boy rushed from hiding and pulled ahead, as he had since Pal first materialized and saw him. Both ran down the middle of the space between the tall, tall structures to either side. The ground felt soft, appeared white. Pal could see his footfalls leaving imprints in the material, though the boy’s odd tread did not. The dark shapes to either side seemed to melt away from them as they passed; no, they were melting away. Pal glanced right and left as he ran, witnessing the anomaly.
He wondered, yet again, what this destination really was. Clearly, it was not merely a physical location. No location they’d researched had behaved as this place did, like a living optical illusion.
Pal was nearly at the end of his exploratory tic and would dissolve back to central soon. He was determined to gather more information before that happened. Since the location itself proved intangible for collection purposes when he’d tried, Pal sought to catch the one constant he had encountered: the boy.
His suit worked overtime to compensate for energy and nitrogen loss. At his current rate, he would exhaust both and need to rest as he had before. Surely, this time, he could draw near enough to catch the boy. Surely, he could get answers to return with.
The surroundings darkened. A sound similar to a loud clap came from ahead, from the boy. To Pal’s complete surprise, the sky in front of them both molded into a dark sphere upon the dark of the sky. Totally black at first; an outline of winking light grew to shine from the base and sides of the sphere.
As they drew nearer, Pal felt himself drawn to the new anomaly. It was not unlike the projection arm of a spacecraft. He almost panicked but training calmed his initial reactions. “Always act decisively within your means,” another memory of an artificial instructor intoned. Pal ran on.
His wrist beeped a warning: a moment till dissolvement.
He strove to move more quickly, but his speed was no longer his own. The boy and he were being pulled inexorably toward the eclipsed horizon. The buildings melted faster. Pal’s treads in the groundstuff deepened and blurred. His visuals clouded somewhat at the edges as he tried to keep the boy in sight.
Another beep sounded, then another. It was time.
Just as Pal’s body began to piece to data for dissolving, he saw the most unusual illusion of them all: an inverted flip of boy, buildings, sphere, and sky. Where once he knew the dark outlines of running youth and landscape; Pal saw the whitespace image of a gaping, grinning face. A face that swallowed the boy. A face that looked at him.
Written in response to D. Wallace Peach‘s extremely popular prompt. She just might get all 300 daily responses posted before she decides that April would be a good time for a vacation…