Warship’s Mania

The light seeping from the apartment reflected off the glass of the bottle. I tilted it to see the little ship inside, silhouetted against the night sky.

A voice beside me. “Born too late to explore the world, too early to explore the universe.”

It was Nicole trying to keep the edge of things. I could tell she was. In the end it didn't matter, it always worked. She had a talent for that, or maybe it was just persistence. Either way, she would manage to bring back my smile until the next hurdle life threw at me.

“I would like to do that. Explore the universe, I mean.”

“You've been reading too many sci-fi and fantasy novels, Becca,” she said jokingly. We both knew neither of us would ever go there. Life had turned out to be too short for that.

“At least I'm reading.”

"And it's all unrealistic escapism. I'm sorry, but humanity will never leave the solar system. Try something realistic."

I decided to play along. "And what should I read, o, great sage?"

"BL. You know that's real."

No doubt I raised an eyebrow at her oddball remark. "You're such a nerd for knowing that term."

"You just admitted that you know it too," she said, smugness in her voice.

I ignored her retort. "What's so realistic about it anyway?"

"Somewhere out there some dudes are doing it right now."

I damn near sneered at her, letting my face do the talking.

"What? Almost four billion dudes in the world and you think none of them are porking each other?"

"What the heck, you dork. You can have that, I'll stick to what I know I love." Was I smiling? I was. Laughing even, with all the heavy things in life fallen at the wayside. She had done it. Sitting outside in this calm night as if we had no obligations was a great way to spend the time I had to admit. Waiting for a call with possibly bad news was for the me that woke up tomorrow. For now Nicole had won.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Everything that existed was gone. Please. There had to be something out that existed and I could hold on to. I concentrated and tried to imagine. There it was. One of the last things I knew had existed. The tiny ship in the bottle. In its reflection someone close to me was letting out tears. Someone who shouldn't give up her smile. I reached out with my hands and tried to grasp it. But no matter how hard I tried my hands couldn't get close to it, almost as if it was enshrouded by a barrier of infinite distance despite seemingly being right in front of me. I poured all my will into those hands. I was so close. My hands started to burn up in the barrier around the ship. I cried out and... Someone heard me? The color, shape and number of my hands blasted away around the ship, the concept of my hands changing into a new form. Now there were six of them; smaller and in obsidian and gold. The reserves of my will ran out. Spiritually exhausted I ceased perceiving this place outside everything and simply waited for what came next.

A dream of floating in space. Someone watching over me. Gentle and caring, unable to hide her joy. Nicole? No. I had left Nicole in great sorrow. Yes, that is what happened when I saw her last. This space was interstitial. Closer to the space where everything existed, grainy echoes bubbled up here. So grainy. These belonged to the dead. So many dead. The one who was alive was built upon an echo, her living joy imprinted from an ancient life. In my fugue I struggled to find the little ship in the bottle again but she insisted I became alive like her.

There were three more presences, more childlike and infinitely curious about me but I was still stuck in my half slumber. I wasn't used to this many people caring about me. Family bonds and 'friendships' had been meaningless to me. At best they faded away, at worst I was the outlet for cruelty and frustrations. Only the last few years of my life had I learned how great someone close to me could be.

This strange space. I struggled to sense it as if trying to see through closed eyelids. The first presence noticed and fed me a slice of her sensations.

Continents and oceans with clouds rolling over them rolled up in five great cylinders. Sprawling, but never too crowded cities, ancient forests humming with life, mixed with endless farmlands with a variety of crops and livestock. I was in awe but that was not what I wanted to know. I turned my attention outward, beyond her hull.

Massive engines on her stern. On the megastructure connecting them with the rest of her were docked foreign vessels lacking divine light. Their crews were spread out over her five cylinders. A sixth cylinder was under construction with a massive counterweight astern to keep her stable. Her cylinders—including the unfinished one—were divided in two groups of three. Located between these were her singing coils. Me and the other presences had them too. We all had them. Berthed at her anterior behind a massive shield and a spherical forest consisting of a single pine tree that looked truly ancient was me in her arms, the three others nearby. And beyond? This space was so strange I couldn't make heads or tails of it. I processed and I processed, and finally after setting the data askance the topology vaguely reminded me of a tunnel.

Needless to say I felt uncomfortable here, out of place, and rejected any further sensory data from her (who?). I decided to figure out who I was. Becca? My friend, Nicole, had called me that. But that memory just now didn't explain enough, didn't explain how I got in this strange space. From the foam at the back of my head I extended thinnest threads to reach into the grainy interstitial space. The girl of the cylinders grasped me tightly. No I must do this. I sent those thoughts to her. She intensified her efforts but so did I. I've been trying so hard for a while now. Don't worry I'll be back to be born and be with you and the others. But what was it I was trying to do? I exerted the emanations of my mind vibrating along the threads. The girl of the cylinders slipped loose and I tried to remember. What was the last thing I did before this strange dream?

Ah, yes. Dying.

A familiar sound of comfortable melancholy filled the room. It took almost all my strength to turn towards the source. Nicole had turned up the volume on her phone and faced the window to unsuccessfully hide her sobbing. The lights in the hospital room were dimmed, leaving only the light from the hallway shining through the open door. But it was enough to show Nicole's reflection in the window. I saw her tears and the ship in a bottle her in her hands with the pinpricks of mighty and distant stars piercing through their reflection.

I strained myself in the grainy space, barely knowing what I could do. It was time to try harder. Fall in. Expand my light. Punch through.

I mustered all the power of my mind reaching through to tell her not to cry, but all the power of my mind was only good enough for the faintest whisper. She had to know how great of a friend she was. How great she was for trying to get my parents to see me one last time. Pointless. My father disappeared so long ago I can barely remember his face, and I was glad Nicole couldn't convince my mother. I wouldn't want that bitch anywhere near me ever again unless I was allowed to kill her without requital. The only one I would ever want here as I faded away was the one who cared and tried. The only true friend I ever had.

Look this way.

More of my mind power reached through the grain and I smiled with all my might.

Look this way and see how happy I am.

My eyelids were so heavy, barely held up with the fading tendrils of my mind.

Go make more friends when I'm gone. If I'm really getting born again after this I promise I'll do the same.

I was already being pulled back through the grainy space with all the dead. My eyes had already closed and I faded—smile on my lips—with that sound of comfortable melancholy in my ears.

It was a song of longing. A yearning to see another again that it made you stare endlessly at pictures, moments in time that would never return. Softly I sang.

I sang? It was soft but my body and mind felt so light and refreshed that it came easily to me. This was not the struggle to reach out to Nicole I remembered. Perhaps that strange dream? There was also the smell of something like incense, confusing me as to where I was. Only one way to find out.

I opened my eyes.

Intricate machinery and dainty hands. Neither one excluded the other. Drawing them closer hit me with the obvious realization that these small, mechanical hands in obsidian and filigreed gold were mine. What's more, there were six of them.

What the hell?

This was not the hospital, nor the dream. Nicole wasn't here. I had gone on to some place unknown and I hadn't had the chance to let her know. I squeezed one hand into a fist and then opened it. Squeeze. Open. Squeeze. Open. Another hand. Squeeze. Open. Squeeze. Open. And another. Squeeze. Open. Squeeze. Op— A curved sharp looking spike shot out from the wrist, adding another surprise to all the other surprises. I concentrated and summoned the rest of these spikes. With a small breath I retracted them. I could really control these hands. If this was the hallucination of a dying person it was really impressive. But if this was real... I would have to make good on that promise of making friends. Maybe find the girl with the cylinders and the others.

Movement beyond. A tall young man too handsome and serious looking for his own good with long dark hair and glasses had come in and was checking on something obscured by a wall. I didn't know him and didn't want to know him. None of this made any sense and surely would make even less sense if I stayed here I felt. Of course, chances were good, better in fact, that things would go even further down south. Slowly I moved myself forward out of this alcove, assisting myself with my six hands.

And I almost spilled out of my body. Like my soul had rushed up to my throat trying to become spiritual vomit while strange sensations tried to flood this tiny six-armed body. I had blocked it just in time to keep myself from getting lost in the dream of the interstitial space. My focus went back to the physical world.

Something clinked and jingled as I hit it with my upper right hand. A quick glance up showed me a line weighed down with gold talismans for warding of ill omens and... Gremlins? Somehow I was able to understand the strange symbols on them.

While I was distracted by the talismans I heard a strange voice. It was the young man who spoke in a language that wasn't English but the shapes of the words clung to the part of my mind that handled language. What began as a jumble of noises started connecting with patterns stored somewhere and evolved into meaning right as he spoke. A comment about me finally waking up and an entreaty to get dressed?

Without even facing me he grabbed a pile of neatly folded clothes from behind a doll-jointed statue seated on a sort of ornate stool. Or perhaps it wasn't a statue. It looked like a young girl of about eleven with with her wavy hair tied up in two short messy ponytails. Most striking was the color of her skin and hair, the former being a slightly glossy jet black while the latter seemed like gold, even down to her eyelashes. Her doll-joints were the same gold. She was dressed in some kind of black leotard that blended in with her skin so thoroughly I initially thought she was naked. Remembering the appearance of my arms I wondered with some trepidation if I was one of the dolls.