this impossible thousand years

Year 417

There isn’t much Zeillese knows that isn’t possible. There is something about living in a world of aliens and cyborgs, Riwohrs and CAPS that frays any concept of reality; the kind where whether through science or some ridiculous, universe-bending magic, time and space can be changed like a canvas for those with the power of destiny on their side.

Zeillese wondered, and motivated by such a curiosity, visited an old scientist friend of hers.

~*~

Year 67

Mr. Burrison was the kind of teacher that was kind without needing to be asked for it. Unlike some, he never looked twice at Zeillese’s flickering pelt. He merely smiled at her small, toothy grin and wide orange eyes.

Zeillese loved that he never felt the need to look past her smile. “Can ywou tell me wha aether is?” She flicked out her green tongue, the tip glowing blue. Mr. Burrison tapped her green nose.

“You should know! It runs a lot of cyborg’s limbs as one of the most efficient energy sources, lasting both a long time and being packed full of energy.”

Zeillese growled a bit at that. “No! No, I dun mean that. Ya’no… why do we even need it? People eat and run just fine! Why can’t we just eat. I like eating. I’m sure you wanna know, I like all the green and orange food because the nannies say it’s good for you and especially good for me ‘cos those are my colors.”

“So you like your carrots and broccoli!”

“Yeah! But don’t tell no-one, I like adding cheese. Remember! No telling.”

“Of course. No telling,” he said, in an appeasing tone. Zeillese squinted up at him, her bright green plastic limbs shuffling as she thought. Her eyes suddenly lit up.

“You owe me an answer! Aether! Mr.!” Zeillese insisted.

Mr. Burrison smiled once again. “Well. Since you’re such a smart girl, I’ll tell you. Aether -- well, machines can’t run on the energy of food the same way organic bodies can. Aether forms as that kind of food for the machine, and lasts a lot longer. You only have to refill your engine’s limbs every decade or more, and more advanced cyborgs can go for fifty years or more without needing extra. It’s a rare resource, but we have nearly limitless supplies for our population.”

Zeillese nodded, “Ok, what if you ran out of aether?”

“We wouldn’t.”

“You can’t say that.” And Mr. Burrison smiled a good smile, the kind that meant you’re right and he was testing you.

“You’re right. If a biological lifeform runs out of food, it stops working. It’s the same for those who run on aether. At this point, a lot of cyborgs have modified themselves so much that if they don’t have aether, they die.” His smile turned sad, then. “To be honest, a temporary lack of aether is a lot less worrisome than a lack of food. I believe the current aether security as of now is quite low. It takes as long to synthesize aether from the ground as it does for it run out from our veins.”

Zeillese stuck her tongue out. “Politics?”

Mr. Burrison shook his head. “You’re still a kid, aren’t you? Politics are important. I think we should put more money into higher security for our aether, not new shielding technology.”

~*~

Zeillese knocked on Mr. Burrison’s door. She had not been here for nearly a hundred years. She was trepidatious, almost afraid he would no longer be the same. Like her. She didn’t want him to change, the same way she had; change hurts from the inside. The peeling away of childhood to find nothing but dried up dreams, and the brutal leading force towards some other being that doesn’t feel like her, not anymore.

The door opens, to the same flecked gray beard, warm amber eyes and peg for a leg. Zeillese learned a century ago that all of his cybernetics was in his chest; it was what kept him alive. He smiled - and thank god, his smile was the same, like coming home to a place she forgot after so long. “Little Zeil,” he said, warmly. “Worried you’ve forgotten me, beyond the Veil.” He smirked vaguely at his own joke.

Zeillese’s lips quirked up of their own volition. “I could never forget you.” And it was true. Some people were too great in their small ways to be forgotten.

“Glad to hear it. Now, I really wish you were here just to see me - but I know you. You always came to me because you wanted to learn.” Zeillese nodded, slowly, not quite sure what she was assenting to. “It’s alright. You’re not so little anymore, not much time to chat. Lots of work to be done in this war. What do you want to know?”

Zeillese took in a breath and set her eyes on her old teacher. These questions needed answers. “Dreams. Is there any such thing as prophetic dreams?”

Mr. Burrison blinked. “Well, of course, there are all sorts of legends and stories throughout history of such things. I’d think you’d kno-”

“No,” Zeillese interrupted, and promptly apologized. “I’m very sorry, old habits, I shouldn’t have interrupted you.” Being with Mr. Burrison made Zeillese feel like a child again; Zeillese scolded herself in her head. Not proper conduct.

“Of course, it’s alright. Go on.”

“Actual dreams, in real life. I think they might happen to me.”

Mr. Burrison’s brows took a steep dive. “Zeillese…” He didn’t say anything after that, only looked at her shifting pelt. Why was he looking at her like that? Like so many people before him? Her pulse picked up at the wrong sight, the thing she never thought would happen. What made him question her?

“I --” she broke off, not sure what to say. She felt ready to leave. She began to turn.

“Zeillese, stop. I don’t mean it like that. But prophetic dreams? Zeillese, oh, oh, I don’t think I should be telling you this, but, that is the Riwohr’s trump card. It’s why we’re so desperate to defeat them with technology. They can see into the future, indefinitely long… some say this war is helpless. Some say they’ve already won, because with the future in their hands, they have power over this universe. The universe. But Zeillese, if you too can see…”

Her eyes, wide open. The future, oh, the future -- they had lost, in that dream, hadn’t they?

“Then we might be able to win this war.”