Chương 488: 488

It was a little past 10 PM, local time, when Mark saw the island of Vaka, otherwise known as D'New Guinea, if you were from Earth. No one really talked about it in that way, though, because the Forgetting was strong around the entire island, even back on Earth. Mark hovered in an ink dark sky, over a dark ocean, the auroras seemingly distant from this place, the stars cold and the moon behind a cloud that was not a cloud. Mist, thin and diaphanous, flowed through the sky, ebbing in and out of reality.

The Forgetting was thick across the 2, 000 kilometer wide island. It wasn't that bad way up here. Mark could make out the coastline shape of what they'd call 'West Papua' here on the western edge of 'D'New Guinea'. This part of the island was about 100 kilometers across, and on the far side of it, deep in the mist, was a land bridge that connected it to the main island. Mark could only see this coast, of course, but Quark had maps that filled in a lot of blanks. Old maps, from Earth.

The maps taken from high-altitude drones here on Daihoon of the actual island of Vaka were all distorted things, the Forgetting messing with vision and with tracking. Derek had used Earth-based maps and his multiplicity to get around that limitation. The people from this land used those Earth-based maps, too. Also, according to Derek, this land wasn't that bad when the danger was gone, the mists clearing and the lush, tropical forests asserting themselves in the bright, tropical sun. It was kind of a paradise.

But the danger was thick these days, the goblins encroached on the eastern edge of Vaka, about 2, 000 kilometers over there, and probably right around here, too, based on the density of the mist. Mark moved in, rotor spinning mist down onto his body, aiming for the coast— Suddenly he was in the water two kilometers below his former altitude, water invading his mouth. Mark spat out salt water and oriented fast, and somehow he found himself standing up a sandbar a bit out from the beach.

He looked up, and the world overhead was mist. Down here it was kinda clear. Music flowed in the darkness, while a bar stood illuminated on the beach up ahead. Someone was singing an American song from before the Reveal, and someone was playing a guitar. People with deeply tanned skin and tattoos curling around their bodies laughed and drank. They seemed to be having a good time. The men wore shorts. The women wore little.

Someone had on a grass skirt and another person had on an old basic brown Universal Basic Income shirt that had seen better days. A lot of people wore basic brown. And the music played on. It was freaky as fuck. The open water was right here, and Mark knew more than most what dangers lurked in the depths, and even in the shallows. But these people here were not even 50 meters from the water, and sure, that would be a lot of a head start on whatever came out of the waves, but sometimes water monsters moved fast.

And if there was a leviathan out there? Holy shit. This place was one casual tsunami away from being chainsaw-buzzed down a leviathan's throat. They didn't even have city walls. … Maybe they didn't need them? The Forgetting had popped Mark down here without him knowing how he had gotten here, which was also kinda freaky but certainly not the strangest thing to happen to him. Mark trudged out of the ocean, onto the wide, sandy beach, more details about the land revealing themselves to him.

There was a road with lights beyond the beach. Some houses glowed in the darkness on the forested mountains. The auroras overhead were gone. The mist overhead was slightly illuminated. Out at sea, the mist was a casual deepening over the ocean until the horizon was gone, lost to misty depths. Everything about this land was fucked up. Standing on the beach, Mark checked a few things to make sure he wasn't under a Mind Control, or a fakery of some sort.

His soulhouse was fine, but mists cloyed at the edges; his Clean House ritual kept those mists away. He checked his Status, and though it came to him slowly, taking 2 seconds instead of instantly arriving, he could check his Status just fine. Checking on the world with his fragment of a divine mirror, everything looked exactly as it was, and the people ahead seemed incredibly low-Power; maybe only knacks, and maybe not even that.

One person seemed more powerful than the rest, and that person was an old man smoking a pipe, sitting on a large driftwood log about 10 meters to the side of the festivities in the bar. The old man wore a loincloth and nothing else, his skin like brown leather, his Power an uncoiling/coiling thing that seemed quite similar to the Forgetting in shape, if nothing else. It had no eyes or anything else like the eldritch antimeme, but it had a similar 'nest of eels' look to it.

The old man waved his pipe and called out to Mark, "Hello to the traveler. Flying isn't permitted around here, and leaving is only allowed on a boat." Mark angled toward the guy, saying, "Greetings to the resident. I'm looking for someone in charge. Perhaps by the names Ropapo or Mabi? Or an elder." The old man harrumphed, and said, "You think I know some random people?"" Yes, because you're here and you have real Power. Something to do with the Forgetting, unless I'm mistaken." The old man huffed.

"It's a big island. Give it a look. Maybe you'll find what you need." He was putting on a front, which was fine. He could front if he wanted. Derek had warned Mark about the unhelpful nature of the natives toward outsiders, and so Mark simply moved on, toward the party at the bar. Maybe someone there would help him find who he needed to find and then he could get that house book for Eliot and Power up some people. They could deal with their goblin problem themselves—" Ach! Wait."

The old man stood up, almost creaking as he did so.

"I know where you have to go. Don't bother the nice people."" Sure," Mark said, "Who are you?"" Wavespeaker Amokai. I have the unfortunate pleasure of being the one to guide you."" Unfortunate, huh? Well I don't have a lotta time to help you guys, so I'd like this attitude to change." Wavespeaker Amokai glared, more annoyed than actually angry, and said, "Fuck off, kid. We don't need your help."" Aknowledged." Mark started walking toward the illuminated bar, asking, "They got a network here, Quark?"

Wavespeaker Amokai frowned deeply. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Quark flickered diagrams into Mark's vision, indicating electrical poles and a radio station up on the mountain, near that flickering red light up there, and said, "I have connected to a highly-localized network. It appears to be segregated—" A guy on a motorbike was zooming down the beach road, the noise of his little gasoline-powered engine like a comforting vibration in the night.

It reminded Mark of nights at Orange City, or of Dad's old truck. More than that, though, the guy had entered Mark's range and his vector was highly focused and excited. Quark noticed Mark's focus and changed tactics, grabbing whatever information he could grab from the guy coming down the road, clearly aiming at Mark. Quark focused on the guy's tattoos on his chest and shoulders.

"Those markings appear to be the same as the markings on Armsmaster Tulo Khava at Dawncoast. Based on known information, it might be Tulo Khava's younger brother, Wakka, or someone related to the Khavas." Specific tattoos among the People were passed down on family lines, so that might be a true assessment. If this was Wakka, then he was the much younger brother of Tulo. Maybe Mark's own age, actually.

Wavespeaker Amokai spat, acting like an asshole, but his vector was quietly worried things were falling outside of his control, as he said, "And there goes the quiet." The guy hurriedly parked his motorbike in the sand beside the road and called out, "Mister Mark! Careed!" He rushed forward, his soul flexing with a strange kinda Power that looked almost mechanical.

"Did you bring your hoverskiff! We could use it to… ah, damn. You came through the mist, ehh— Sorry, sorry! I am Wakka Khava!" Wakka breathed a bit hard from his rush as he stopped in front of Mark, smiling brightly, saying, "Welcome to Vaka!" Wavespeaker Amokai said, "I have this well in hand, youngling."" With all due respect, Elder Amokai," Wakka said, his demeanor shifting to deference while his vector turned almost confrontational, "He is our contact, and the Khavas will assist Mark in all his needs."

Mark stepped into the confrontation, ignoring Amokai, saying, "Nice to meet you, Wakka. I came in by myself. The skiff got eaten by a sky spider. Is Derek around here?"" He's at home in Waysoff! Come on! I don't have much raw materials but I can add a side seat to my bike and we can ride to Waysoff. It's not a long drive if you know the way through the mist. Tomorrow we can go to Crash and talk to the elders!"" We're not going there," Wavespeaker Amokai said, as he waved a hand to the side.

The mist coalesced at Amokai's direction, becoming a mirage of a different land full of roads and thatch-and-bamboo buildings and streetlights on spindly poles. Bugs flew in those lights like thick clouds, or maybe that was just the mist, though the mist was distant in that place— And then Mark saw beyond the immediate scene. A land of skyscrapers sat tilted in the distance, like a kilometers-wide sphere of land had been carved out of somewhere and then landed here, but at an angle.

The skyscrapers did not fall, even tilted as they were. They were instead festooned with wooden staircases and platforms that made the metal buildings inhabitable. The skyscrapers themselves were all still lit up, as though they had working power. Maybe they did. Amokai said, "We're going to Crash." And then the mist dissipated away from Mark and Wakka and the elder, without ever seeming that it had surrounded them at all. But it had, and now they were on a street just outside of the main city of the Picory; Crash.

It certainly came by its name honestly. Wakka glared at Amokai, miffed more than truly angry, saying, "Eyy! Elder! My bike was back there!"" You'll survive the indignity of getting it back," Amokai said, still worried.

"The Khavas will be allowed to control this, so here I am, out of retirement, and pissed off about it. Don't make me dump your tech into the ocean." Mark got the distinct impression that Amokai didn't like technology. Wakka frowned and then walked forward. He put away his frown and tried to be pleasant again to Mark, saying, "The Khavas have a home in Crash, too. Please let me show you." Mark went with Wakka, saying, "Sure."" Go home, old man," Wakka told Amokai.

Wavespeaker Amokai laughed and walked behind them, following in the mist. Mark looked around the outskirts of Crash as they walked toward the tilted city ahead. This was an islander land with dirt roads and huts and electricity and screens playing shows that people watched in their homes. People drank on the streets. People slept in the open, on porches. People fucked in the dark. It was poor as fuck, but that was okay. The bugs around here didn't bother anyone.

There was some kinda deep magic in the air, and even in the ground. The magic in the ground felt kinda… veiny, somehow. Probably one of those magical formations of Waterpeople that Mark had read about. Mark got the distinct impression that they chose to live like this, for he didn't feel much resentment or anger in the air except that which bounced back and forth between Wakka and Amokai, but then again most people were sleeping right now… so maybe there was some anger and resentment.

Tulo had left home to get away from this, to build himself a better life, and he had. A lot of the People left home and never came back to this tree-living… actually, where were the tree houses? Mark found himself asking, "I thought the People lived in trees, with statues and stuff directing power all around the settlements?"" We are in a tree," Amokai said. He pointed forward, at what Mark assumed was a mountain.

"That's the canopy. All of the Language lies far below us, on the ocean floor." Mark suddenly realized what that veiny-feeling was down below, and all around. He noticed that the 'poles' holding up the streetlamps were not poles, but instead cultivated branches. The houses were not made of pieces of wood, they were grown out of wood." Ocean floor?" Mark asked, surprised by a whole lot but that was the most surprising part. Amokai didn't deign to answer that."

It will be hell getting back to my scooter," Wakka said, grumbling. Mark went, "Huh."