Scorched Plains | 0. Prologue: The Mechanical Side
The headache was intense. Blinding red light pulsated rhythmically. Violently loud static pierced his ears, splitting his mind in deep horrific agony until the light dissipated and the static died down.
On the backdrop of darkness, lines of speeding light shot towards him.
The man woke up, his eyes painfully avoiding the blinding sun, overlooking the desert that was out of his window. There wasn't any indication that he slept against it. He looked around to see that he was sitting alone in the last row of the train car. He focused on the window behind him and watched for a moment as the train sped away from a vast ocean of nothingness toward its destination.
He wanted to know where he was going. He did not remember getting on a train but he did remember something before that. Something that was blurry in his mind. Just out of reach. He focused on it. Voices spoke and he could hear them come in and out of both ears. Loud and quiet, screaming and whispering. But no words that he could tell. It kept going and going and going until it matched the train's rhythm. One word broke free from the noise: context.
This revelation occurred just as the train slowed down for its arrival. To his surprise, the train car was not empty. He passed a businessman as he exited the train.
"Didn't see you get on but I wasn't awake for much of the ride anyway. Get any sleep yourself?" The businessman asked.
"Yeah, actually."
"That's good. Well, have a nice day."
"Thanks, you too."
The businessman walked away, disappearing into the busy station before he could ask what day it was.
"Hey! There you are, Sam!" A voice yelled.
The man looked around and saw a skinny young man approaching.
"If you're talking to me, know that my name is not Sam."
"Yeah, I know that," the young man said. Then he got closer and spoke quieter. "But Sam, if word got out about who you really are, you and your father are in danger."
"My father?"
"Yes, Sam."
"Can I see him?"
"Er, no. Not right now. I gotta show you around, Sam Jones," the young man seemed happy to say the last name.
"You keep saying 'Sam'."
"I am. Well, no. You are, technically. Anyways, I gotta make sure that neither one of us says your real name on accident. Even if it's just your first name."
"I guess a fake name isn't too far-fetched if it's related to whatever the hell is going on with my dad. Okay, what about your name? If you told me your real name, am I allowed to say it?"
"Sure. But considering you're 'undercover'," the young man gestured quotation marks then continued, "I figure why not lean into the role-play. Call me 'Corey'."
"Okay, 'Corey'. Where are we and why am I here?"
"We are in South Mesa. The 'City of Lies and Abuse'," he gestured again, "as I call it."
"Uh-huh."
"You're here to learn about what's going on here in South Mesa. Your dad and Miller—"
"Is 'Miller' a fake name too?"
"No, 'Miller' is Miller's real name. That I can get away with."
"Okay...I guess. What about today? What day is it?"
"Hmm..." Corey spent a few seconds thinking before answering. "Thursday."
"That's good to know but I was thinking specifically about the calendar date."
"I can see that, yeah. But that's a slippery slope."
"How?" Sam asked with bewilderment.
"From what I hear, your father talks the same way."
"I'm his only son, of course, I'll end up sounding like him sometimes but how does that help me right now?"
"Well, quite a lot actually. Maybe."
"What day is it?" Sam demanded seriously.
"Walk with me. Let's go get something to eat."
Sam followed Corey out of the busy station. Sam looked around at the people in a rush to leave and enter. As he studied the chaos, Sam began to lag behind Corey.
Finally, after a bit of walking through the city, they arrived at South Mesa's most famous restaurant, Linda's Diner. The diner was packed but Corey was determined and spotted the only empty booth. After sitting down, a waitress approached them and took their orders. Corey ordered coffee and Sam ordered a cheeseburger and a soda.
"I haven't been here that long and I'm already inclined to say 'you never get used to the heat'!" Yet another gesture. Sam found it peculiar that Corey did it a third time. "Makes me miss the weather back in—" Corey stopped himself from finishing the sentence.
Sam raised an eyebrow.
"Heh," realizing that Sam caught the slippage. "What matters is we're here now."
"Good thing we're back on that topic because I want to know when is 'now'?"
"Hmm," Corey rubbed his hands anxiously.
Sam raised an eyebrow for a second time.
"Y'know," Corey began. "Miller mentioned something interesting—"
Corey's face froze. Sam looked around and he felt his stomach sink at the realization that everyone else froze too. Sam returned his gaze to Corey.
A tear from Corey's eye unzipped a path as it fell down his face. The crevice revealed a void so dark and enticing that Sam was compelled to extend his index finger toward it.
South Mesa blipped out of existence while his finger was extended. Now he was standing in an endless field. The sky was almost entirely dark. The sun was devoured by the void. The red light that barely permeated the sky came from the event horizon.
Ahead of him, there was a tear in reality that created a passageway. Sam approached with the same curiosity and stepped inside.
He was greeted with the familiar sound of the train and the glare of the sun. He sat beside his former self, who was unaware of his presence. Sam watched as the day played out exactly the same with no noticeable change. He found himself back in the Field, once again in front of the passageway. A single crimson tendril fell from the sky and connected with the ground.
Sam passed the tendril and walked through the passageway. The day in South Mesa rebooted and Sam could feel something changed but he couldn't tell what. Each time the day ended, Sam returned back to the Field and a new tendril fell from the sky. The day rebooted over and over and over again. Each reboot gradually added changes until finally there was oblivion.
As Sam would learn with each journey through the passageway, the tendrils that fell from the sky were dead timelines. Variations of the day in South Mesa.
Then the process Sam came to expect from his journeys through the passageway splintered off into a new direction. Sam no longer visited South Mesa. His new arena of suffering as an undying watcher became Ohio. A place that became a wasteland not too long after the heyday of South Mesa's crime families. Yet something was familiar. An economy using bottle caps for trade and places underground where survivors dwelled.
Sam saw entire lives come and go, the rise and fall of entire communities, and the rise, and fall of certain people. Brutal suffering that he knew existed only for those who crossed paths with the worst of humanity. And yet those paths came to an end regardless of who walked them. For what seemed like an eternity, the timeline ended and only one tendril fell. Sam was horrified by the realization that despite how long this new reboot lasted, more would follow. As the journeys lasted longer, puddles of blood began to appear that scattered the Field. When a new tendril fell, the puddles disappeared.
After countless timelines perished and tendrils fell, there was another massive change and the Ohio Wasteland finally changed its currency to soda can pop-tabs. Many more reboots followed. Minor changes in the continuous cycle of dying timelines finally led to the biggest change. One that would herald the final timeline and could finally give Sam what he wanted: The Disintegration.
