The Moon Is a Dead World

















Year 1,600,000





Talloran immolates. For every month they burn, they get to watch two loved ones die.

It's okay; they're still there with them.









Year 1,659,455





Talloran drowns. The ocean brittles their body, the sea-life spits them out, and they become part of the life cycle.

It's okay; they become essence.









Year 1,736,442





Talloran crashes. Their heart races a hundred beats in a month, then a week, then a day, then an hour, then 30 minutes, then one minute, then 30 seconds, then one, then a half, then a quarter, then an eighth, then —

It's okay; their heart's always been beating too fast anyway.









Year 1,777,777





Talloran experiences divination. Awaken, my love, he cried out.

It's okay; I've awakened.









Year 1,786,108





Talloran snaps. They lose their will again.

It's okay; we'll meet again.









Year 1,786,109





Talloran revives. They regain their will again.

See? It all worked out.









Year 1,831,537





Talloran suffers. It starts to get boring.









Year 1,840,622





Real boring.









Year 1,892,777





That’s the problem with suffering. There are only so many bastard-filled ways to die, so many righteous punishments to undergo, so much limit to abuse, that it soon becomes nothing more than a fleeting blip. Only the one in charge of Hell can keep up with that kind of track record, and the One overseeing it now has lost Its touch.

Because the only one who can keep that luster alive is the self, and Talloran has better ways to spend their time.









Because who would want to keep waxing on about torture? Certainly nobody with a healthy conscience.



January 3, 2017



Two people curled up to each other in bed. They were more than lovers; they were cosmological bastions of safety for each other. Researcher James Talloran and Agent Draven Kondraki have a moment's worth of peace in between their hectic schedules. Half-asleep, and the only things of interest are the snow outside illuminated by the balcony lights, and each other.

Talloran feels Draven's heart rise and fall. It's obvious what this means, having been together for this long now.

"The transition to Site-118 won't be that bad for me. I'll be focusing almost exclusively on Keter objects, but staff know what they'll be assigning me to. I won't be at risk."

"You just won't be around here any longer." Draven kisses Talloran's neck, a reaffirmation of grounding.

"Yeah. I'll video call every day."

"What if your schedule is too different?"

"Site-17 isn't that far away from where I'm going, you know. Even if it is, it's not like either of us sleep much anymore."

"It's only been a month since we moved into this apartment anyway. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss it too, Draven, hon."

"Mmhmm. Who's going with you?" He was curious to know; he knew there were some reassignments, but to Site-118 in particular was odd. It seemed well-staffed enough.

"You remember Dr. Yamada, right? She's coming with me… I guess to look over me. Glass won't see me anymore, but I'll be seeing someone there. I can stay sane enough."

"Sure." Neck kiss.

They stayed quiet for another half-hour. The songs snow made when it fell rivaled that of any musician, and its existence made the season more colorful for them. Lingering silence never bothered either one of them in each other's presence, nor any of their characteristics and mental traits that made others such a pain in the ass to deal with. They weren't pure, but all they needed to be was transparent.

Talloran turned around, facing Draven now. The both of them were exhausted, but Talloran… they were borderline asleep. Even through half-opened eyes, Draven… he was cute. There's so much love to give and so much space for that love and so little time to love and it kind of hurt to not be able to keep giving that love as much as they wanted to. In the grand scheme of things though, 95km would ultimately not be as devastating as it otherwise could be. The Foundation, as draining as it was, at least made sure to give some consideration to Draven's family.

"I'm still not sure about a first name, hon. James doesn't quite fit me, I think." Mumble mumble.

"Too attached to your old self, or something or other." Mumble.

"What do you think about Jasper?" they questioned.

"Joyce."

"Jaden."

"James. No wait, that's already your name." In response to Draven's mistake, Talloran tried opening their eyes and exaggerating a disappointed look. giggle, then they both shared in the laughter. "Jules? Why stick to J anyhow. Go big, go bold. Avery."

"Alex."

"Erin, with an E."

"Jules, Aiden, Blake, Ari, Devin, E… Eli, Kai. Gr…ey… S… ky……lar……… J…………" Talloran drifted off to sleep.

snore

Draven smiled and got out of bed. Tired as he was, there was still some stuff he had to take care of before his boyfriend transferred sites in a couple days. He could no longer afford to be put off by the minutiae of day-to-day work. There was business to take care of.

He wandered the apartment, one inherited from his deceased father, stumbling in the dark. Being tired and still unfamiliar with a new place wasn't the best option. When every step forward was also for confronting a trauma still being processed, things were even harder. Luckily for him, he had the tenacity of an angry, hungry dog, so minor issues like "adjusting to dark rooms" and "avoiding bumping into objects" were no problem in any capacity.

That is, until he stubbed his toe with full force onto a metal plate.

"G-gah, fu—" He slapped his hand over his mouth, trying not to yell and wake up Talloran. It hurt like a motherfucker. Though once he turned the corner in an attempt to find the bathroom, he managed to stumble across it. The door had a single nameplate on it.

Doctor Benjamin Kondraki

Calling him a doctor was always overstating it, and maybe he didn't fully deserve the honor of being a Foundation employee at times. But he did. He absolutely did. He was as good of a father as any, and more importantly, he was his father.

Draven entered the room, and his heart stopped for a brief second. In a way, it almost resembled his father's old office. It was still being unpacked, and shit was strewn all over the floor. That was fine. The desk was positioned in front of the window, the way his father typically liked working. The moonlight was potent tonight, and shone right onto the dilapidated chair. For a brief moment, he could have sworn he saw his father there, looking down at some documents with bourbon on the desk, before looking back up at his son and smiling.

He blinked.

His father left. Only the bourbon remained.

Draven knew where he could find the thing he needed to give to Talloran the most in the mess of a room. He needed to keep it a secret, after all. His father's desk had a drawer, which contained a manila envelope. And there it was, same location as he put it in. No tampering either. At least his boyfriend didn't find it.

It was still weird to Draven that his father left this behind for them. It wasn't even found until the move to the new apartment. His father was mysterious in ways that don't befit the adjective, but this was maybe the most strange. Talloran thought a lot of his dad despite his issues, because the two of them got along together well (or rather, well enough), because Ben was his dad and even because there was some level of understanding underneath it all. But the fact that he thought of Talloran in the same way at all, enough to leave this behind, was odd. At least he was considerate.

Closing the door and choking down sobs again, Draven made his way back to the bedroom with one less toe stub this time. It'd be sort of pathetic to wake his boyfriend up crying over recent events again, but they would understand, surely.

"Night, bun." Draven kisses their forehead and holds onto him, falling into sleep soon after.

At least they'll always have each other.









Year 1,996,437





"Why is it that you keep pushing on?"

I'm still not sure myself.

"Tell me. Do you fear being paranoid?"

I think so.

"Do you fear being pursued?"

I… yeah.

"Do you fear what life brings to crush you?"

…yes.

I step away from the sharp claws of Its hatred, and see the gallery of lives that once could have been. Were it another time, another place, another universe, I could have once lived another life. Whether they're just my desires and imaginations, or actual realities, I'm no longer sure, but to someone, they are real.

I see a girl and her grandfather, existing in happiness as he defies Heaven.

I see a family stick together, as tight-knight as they'll ever be.

I see a writer, attempting to fill their stories with love.

I see a girl escaping from the abuse her father continues to bring.

I see technology becoming critical, becoming knowledgeable about minor topics.

I see a robotics company stake their claim on their products.

I see disillusionment, self-doubt, and frustration take hold in a personal world where online has just as much frustration as offline.

I see someone transcending body and spirit to become happy and affable.

I see a teenager, wishing to be a princess, stuck in her own head.

I see aliens as pets.

I see the Foundation turn to nothing from head cannons. I see reality distorting itself, until it's simply fiction.

I see a woman taken by fear and hatred to exist only in dreams from the in-between.

I see an artist striving to prove himself.

I see meandering born from a broken relationship.

I see those forgotten becoming remembered in other ways.

I see many deaths at the hands of anomalies, were they not in the hands of the Foundation.

I see Nero burn Rome to the ground.

I see people, the world turned against them, unsure of how to deal with it all, try to cheer each other up.

I see an evil man kill for his own gratification.

I see artists as activists.

I see Nobody looking for her lineage. I see a writer struggle with holding onto the world in more than one way, her resolve challenged in many aspects.

I see a news editor, compiling last month's latest for those interested.

And many more.

My situation is absurd. I'll accept that. I smile, and let myself go. The background shatters.









Year 2,500,000





Court is in session.









All rise! Get ready.





We're hitting the gas on this one, hun.







