[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Qt9DFLQ.gif[/img][/center]
[indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][hr][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

Everything was to end, it seemed, the way it began—in a blinding flash of light. As the elevator had rocked up and down, its structure in tatters, its hapless inhabitants swarmed by hundreds of murderous robots, Daimyon had been certain that this was the end. Trying to remain close to his friends, the people he had known and trusted the longest, he had closed his eyes and murmured himself a farewell poem.

But he did not die.

Stretching his limbs now, and trying to keep his pumping heart in his chest, the poet gazed upon the massive facility the Infinites found themselves rising above. There was awe in him and profound disbelief. He thought that this was heaven, a rather technocratic version of it anyway, but no—the pain pulsating through his whole body, concentrated on the gunshot wound on his shoulder, was too real for that. The expressions on his fellows’ faces, ranging from shock to joy, were too real.

The wind, cold and crisp and oh so wonderful, that hit their faces as they stepped outside was too real.

Daimyon feasted his eyes upon the mountains, upon the forests. He breathed in the fresh, invigorating air. With open arms, he wanted to take the whole wide world into his embrace.

[color=lightblue]”I never knew air could be this fresh.”[/color] Emily inhaled deeply, which caused the chesty infinite’s bust to swell.  [color=lightblue]”But it’s rather fitting, seeing as we have the whole picture now.”[/color] She looked to Daimyon. [color=lightblue]”Perhaps the air tastes so fresh because it’s our first time breathing as ourselves, rather than who we were.”[/color] The corners of her lips twitched into a smile. [color=lightblue]”I’m still going to call you Daimyon, unless you tell me otherwise. Huxly just doesn’t fit you. Though I suppose you’re neither of those people now.”[/color]

[color=seagreen]“Isn’t that just a cruel twist of fate?””[/color] Daimyon gazed into the distance. Tears were trying to overcome him; he held them back. [color=seagreen]“I have two names but neither really belong to me. I was someone once, then I became someone else. Now...I feel like I am no one.”[/color] He shook his head, pulling his mind from the pit it was sinking into. Turning to Emily, he chuckled. [color=seagreen]“The world really has gone mad. But I guess we are mad enough to live in it too.”[/color] He heard the sound of helicopters coming nearer, their rotors slashing through the wind. [color=seagreen]“And live we shall! Where will your next journey lead you, Emily?”[/color]

Emily lowered her head in thought. [color=lightblue]”I don’t know. Getting out of there felt like a dream up until just now. I was so sure Alter Ego was going to keep all of us down there. Though I suppose there’s one thing I’m going to do for sure.”[/color] Her eyes met the poet’s. [color=lightblue]”I’m going to keep moving forward. Who I was and what I did doesn’t matter that much, even if I need to know that stuff to move past it. But beyond that, I just want to live my life.”[/color] She giggled. [color=lightblue]”I think I originally became the infinite caretaker because I wanted to help people, so I’m going to keep moving in that direction. Until I know more, at least.”[/color] She folded her hands over her stomach. [color=lightblue]”How about you? I don’t imagine you’re going to just stop being the infinite poet either. You must have wanted to be him at a time.”[/color]

[color=seagreen]“I must have, that’s true.”[/color]
Daimyon reflected on that thought. As unbelievable as it was, he had no doubt it was the truth. Huxly, the man he once was, had decided one day to become the Infinite Poet. What drove him to accept such a drastic transformation? Did he know about his condition? Daimyon hoped he did, because he could not imagine the despair of taking on such a burden unknowingly. [color=seagreen]“I guess there is no way to divine the intentions of our...past selves,”[/color] he said.[color=seagreen] “One thing is for certain: I want to seek out the original Daimyon. I have a feeling that he’s out somewhere—and he’d find much poetic interest in having, well, another [i]him[/i] around. Perhaps we could even...create something together.”[/color]
He was saying absurd things, he knew that well. But somehow, his heart lightened at the thought.

[color=lightblue]”Make something together?”[/color] Emily looked away from Daimyon and grinned. [color=lightblue]”A collaboration would be interesting. I wonder if it’s possible to cure your amnesia. Even if the real Daimyon still has your affliction, I imagine they did somethin to make you that way. Are you interested in getting that fixed?”[/color]

[color=seagreen]“Maybe,”[/color] he answered, surprised at how difficult he found the question. [color=seagreen]“It is a terrible condition, and yet...don’t tell anyone, Emily, but I fear that I would lose my creative edge if I was able to...remember things again. I like being a poet, very much so. When my imagination sings and soars to new heights, unburdened by anything...those are the moments I live for.”[/color] He paused, giving the woman a chuckle. [color=seagreen]“You can call me silly if you want. The truth is...I have a lot of thinking to do. I also...”[/color] He fished out the notebook from his shirt pocket, waving it. [color=seagreen]“I also need a new notebook. While this one is not full yet, I...feel the need to start a new one. That’s also probably silly.”[/color]

[color=lightblue]”I think you should do whatever you want, Daimyon. You’re free now, we all are.”[/color] She took a deep breath. [color=lightblue]”I want to see how everyone else is doing, but before I go....”[/color] Emily stepped closer to the poet. [color=lightblue]”It’s true that the past isn’t terribly important. It shouldn’t be what defines you. But it is important to remember so that you don’t repeat the same mistakes. So that you can remember who taught you so much.”[/color] She placed a hand on Daimyon’s book. [color=lightblue]”A lot of people died in there, Daimyon, and this is all that remains of them. Get a new book if you must, but I think the old one is worth holding onto.”[/color]

[color=seagreen]“They will not be forgotten,”[/color] Daimyon promised.

Emily walked off to go speak with the other infinites. He didn’t have much time to watch the caretaker walk away before he was approached by Cyrus. 

[color=D1c2bf]”She’s really come a long way.[/color] Cyrus pulled off his glasses to examine them. [color=D1c2bf]”I suppose we all have. Even you, who is forever living in the moment.[/color]

The poet nodded. [color=seagreen]“Memory is strange like that. I have often wondered how total amnesia can really be, if there’s some...deeper layer that nothing can make us forget. You could call that the soul, perhaps,”[/color] he mused, smiling at the politician. He slid the notebook back into his pocket, patting it, as if to make sure it stayed put. [color=seagreen]“But I’m sure such sentimentalism doesn’t concern you, Cyrus. Or, can I hazard to say that...living through this hell from the very first moment changed you too?”[/color]

[color=D1c2bf]”I don’t think you can go through something like that and remain the same. Things will be different for everyone, but I think we can adjust.”[/color] He folded his arms and looked off into the distance. [color=D1c2bf]”Speaking of memories though, that does remind me of a Tetris commercial. More specifically, the test that inspired it. They said it was the game that even amnesiacs could remember. Someone was doing some research on skill progression and how it pertained to one’s quality of sleep. They had several individuals play Tetris, and then they slept for various amounts of time. It seemed like the longer someone slept, the better they performed at Tetris the next day. But the interesting part is that they used amnesiacs as a baseline.”[/color] He looked at Daimyon out of the corner of his eye with a grin. [color=D1c2bf]”Even though none of them remembered playing Tetris, everyone had dreams of falling blocks. That suggests that amnesiacs may not be able to recall memories, but they are storing them somewhere. By the end of the last day, one of them even managed to put their hand on the keyboard right, as if they remembered being taught how to play.”[/color]

[color=seagreen]“Fascinating...”[/color] Daimyon nodded. [color=seagreen]“I think that is what they tried to do with me, after my...well, after the original Daimyon’s accident. In my case...I guess a machine was enough to take everything away.”[/color] A shiver shook him, and he avoided Cyrus’ gaze. [color=seagreen]“We are frail little things. Too frail… Ah, but that’s silly talk!”[/color] Taking strength on himself, he stepped over to the politician and patted him on the back. [color=seagreen]“I’m just glad we’re alive, at the end of the day. After going through so much, too… Ha. Funnily enough, I can hardly seem to remember specifics.  None of it felt particularly real.[/color] The poet allowed himself a laugh, tinged with sombre sentimentality. 

[color=D1c2bf]”It did, it felt like a giant fever dream.”[/color] Cyrus grinned back at the poet. [color=D1c2bf]”One few people would believe it happened, but it did nonetheless.”[/color] He sighed. [color=D1c2bf]”But it was all real, Daimyon, I assure you. Whatever you wrote in that book of yours most certainly happened. I cannot allow myself to forget the original Shona, Mondatta, Calvin, Noel, Bliss… And certainly not Krista Muller.”[/color] He shook his head. [color=D1c2bf]”I only wish I knew their real names, but their memories will have to be enough for now.”[/color]

[color=seagreen]“I wish the same, and...perhaps it could be done.”[/color] A glint shone in the poet’s eyes. [color=seagreen]“It will take time and money and much effort, but...I think we could track down and identify those who perished in this murder game. Give them back their names. What do you say?”[/color]

Cyrus raised a hand to his chin. [color=D1c2bf]”It would give the people peace, more than just us, their real families.”[/color] he nodded. [color=D1c2bf]”it is very possible Alter Ego still holds records of everyone’s names. They knew yours at the very least, it’s something to start with. This might not be far off at all.”[/color]

Daimyon looked back towards the towering Axis Mundi building. [color=seagreen]“This won’t be the last time we see this place, then.”[/color] Then his gaze turned the other way, towards the helipad that many of his peers had already headed for. [color=seagreen]“All in due time, I’d wager. For now...it’s off to new beginnings.”[/color] He extended a hand to Cyrus. [color=seagreen]“Stay in touch, my friend, alright?”[/color]

[color=D1c2bf]”I think I can pencil that into my busy schedule.”[/color] Cyrus shook his hand before checking up on the last few infinites.

After their farewell, the poet headed towards the helicopter. On his way there, he was stopped by one last infinite. 

[color=00e4df]"Daimyon."[/color]

Sure enough, it was Shona. [color=00e4df]"I realize that I am not the same Shona that sacrificed herself to save all of you. What memories you may hold of her are not of me."[/color] She placed a hand on her chest. [color=00e4df]"I hope you still honor her, and I hope I did her memory justice."[/color]

[color=seagreen]“Shona…”[/color] Daimyon stopped. [color=seagreen]“You most certainly did. The knight that I knew forever ago...she would be proud of you. And now that you’ve made it out of the cycle, now that you’re free… What will happen to you? Will you discard the knight’s mantle, or will you carry it with you to honour the Shona that couldn’t make it?”[/color]

[color=00e4df]"You say it as if there is even a choice to be made."[/color] Shona lowered her scabbard and rested her hands on it. [color=00e4df]"I know not who I once was, but I’d like to think I chose to become Shona so I could shelter the weak. I plan to continue doing so."[/color] She closed her eyes. [color=00e4df]"We are all in danger. Which is why I plan on spending the coming months watching over all of you. Powerful people enabled Alter Ego to do what they did, and I will see them brought to justice."[/color]

The poet smiled, his heart roused by Shona’s resolve. [color=seagreen]“I feel better, already, knowing that you’ll watch over us. Know that you’ll always have someone to chronicle your heroics, my friend.”[/color]
He gave her a pat on the shoulder, then, taken by the moment, pulled her into a quick embrace. She grunted, but returned the gesture before long. They had made it, they had survived, and life was theirs to take once again.

Then the world resumed, and he knew it was time to go.

[color=seagreen]“Farewell, Shona! May our paths cross again a myriad times!”[/color]
He waved and turned to leave—but Shona didn’t let go of his hand.

[color=00e4df]"Did you not hear me, Daimyon? I plan to watch over all of you. That includes [i]you[/i]. While there is a great power slumbering in your breast, your body is among the most vulnerable present."[/color] She limped to his side. [color=00e4df]"They will come for you first, I am sure of it, and I will be there waiting for them. Going with you is how I can ensure I continue to live as a true knight"[/color]

[color=seagreen]“You will...protect me?”[/color] the poet asked incredulously. [color=seagreen]“But the others…”[/color] As much as he wanted to protest, there was a definite truth to her words. From the surviving Infinites, he was perhaps the frailest. How many times had he thought it a miracle that he was still alive? The gunshot wound on his shoulder flared up in pain, as if to remind him of exactly that. [color=seagreen]“Shona...thank you. I will find some way to repay you, just you wait. But until then… Shall we go and finally leave this cursed place behind?”[/color]

[color=00e4df]"We shall, poet, until the day we have to return."[/color]

[color=seagreen]“And we will return that day stronger and wiser, ready to bring justice.”[/color]
Daimyon looked over the rest of the Infinites: his friends, his peers, his fellow survivors. His heart fluttered at the thought of them getting the chance to finally live life by their own terms. He wondered where their newly forged paths would take them, wishing he could stay with them in some way.
His hand itched to write, but he did not know when he would get the chance to do so again. Until that, he held tightly onto these memories, willing his flitting mind to keep them for just long enough.
[color=seagreen]“Let’s go!”[/color]