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SANCTUM’S END (II)

Thousands upon thousands of lantern-shaped objects, each shimmering in the faintest of cyan, framed in silver-cast outline, hovered inside a gigantic, dome-shaped room. Odd-looking cables, each as thick as three grown men put together, with folds running like circles over their surfaces, decorated the ceiling, forming a strange, worming pattern that converged toward the central point where a mural of the sun lay etched in acrylic.

At the center of the entire room stood a widened, round platform, beneath it an open abyss that ran deeper than an ordinary eye could discern. The platform had a tiled, glassed floor, framed in a peculiar, steel fence as tall as a young child. It was connected to the entrance by a narrow and long bridge, and it extended over the abyss itself with seemingly no support.

Sporting six reclining chairs, each leather-bound with glass-steel frames, each of the chairs was turned toward a hovering screen depicting various images beneath which a stretch of strange equipment lay, with buttons abound.

The six figures sitting in the chairs would move infrequently, usually just to reach a button they couldn’t from their usual positions. Each was at the very least three meters tall, with long arms that could stretch to the edge of their working area quite easily, but otherwise had human features -- differently-colored eyes, different hairstyles as well as their dyes, different builds and so on.

A strange hum permeated the entire room permanently, yet the six seemed entirely used to it, not letting it bother them.

"--Registering, Space Object XX-R3395," one of the figures spoke out in an almost mechanical tone. "Weight -- approximately eight hundred and twenty-four tons; length -- approximately eighteen meters; speed -- approximately eighteen hundred kilometers per second and decelerating. En-route to Twelfth Sector. Tag as Yellow."

As his voice faded, the room turned to silence once more, with only the grating hum persisting. The described object appeared on one of the screens, dozens of lines stretching sideways from it, depicting various numbers before the object vanished somewhere.

The doors to the room opened all of a sudden, bringing with them another sound to the reality -- that of the walking footsteps. A figure, one slightly taller than three meters, draped in tightly-wound cloth, walked over the bridge and onto the platform.

"Your shift has ended," the figure proclaimed in a commanding voice. Without a fuss, the six figures each took strange objects from their heads, loops connecting two ear-encasing circles, standing up and walking toward the figure. "Good job."

"You’re late," one of the figures said in a somewhat annoyed tone. "Whole forty seconds."

"Apologies," the newcomer bowed slightly toward the annoyed figure. "You all will be compensated with credits appropriately."

"Hm."

"Ah, Eldon, here," the man reached into his cloth, wiggling about for a moment before taking out a paper-covered, rectangular object and handing it over to one of the men -- tall, stalwart, black-eyed, haired and bearded. "Wish the young Alana a happy birthday from me, will you?"

"Ah, thank you," the man accepted with the present with a faint blush, scratching his head. "You’ll really spoil her, Commander."

"As I very well intend to do."

"We’ve got her a present as well," one of the women chortled from the side, taking out a child-sized, paper-wrapped box from seemingly nowhere and handing it over to Eldon who accepted it, almost stumbling and falling over. "Bring her around more often."

"Aah, I’d love to," Eldon sighed. "But she’s quite the duty-bound one. Won’t skip a day of school."

"... are you sure she’s yours?" the woman asked, slanting her eyes.

"I’m sure!" Eldon exclaimed, his blush deepening. "Shut up. I wasn’t that bad at school."

"From what I recall," the man they called Commander chimed in from the side. "You barely passed. And that is only because the Reverends got tired of seeing your face."

"Ha ha ha ha ha..."

"Bah, you people are terrible," Eldon growled, pushing past everyone and walking toward the bridge. "I swear, I should have put those records into a Vault like the rest of you."

"Had you been better at the school, you might have remembered to!"

"Oh, shut up!!"

Eldon stormed out of the strange room and into an open, curving hallway. To his right was a stretch of glassed windows, exposing the nightly skyline of the city; shimmering colors abound, a marvel of hues at the display had long since stopped impressing him. Tall and taller buildings seemingly shone, thousands upon thousands of vastly colored screens floating alight in the skyline, depicting thousands upon thousands of different images.

He, however, ignored them, speeding through the curving hallway.

To his left, a smooth, almost wholly white wall expanded, bulged slightly, seemingly guiding him to the exit. On occasion, gaps would open, revealing a set of doors leading deeper into the building, but he ignored them all until he reached a stairwell leading downward.

It was a spiral-shaped, extremely narrow as means of using as little space as possible, and it led all the way to the bottom floor from the eighteenth that he was on.

It spat him out directly into the welcoming lobby that was eerily empty. A well-fenced desk stood embedded into the tiled floor, opposite of the entrance, with no one currently in charge. Eldon figured the guard must be on break or something, and as he swiped the card to indicate his leaving, without looking back, he exited through the glass doors that split apart as he approached them.

Walking out onto the street, a faintly cold wind began blowing against his cheeks. Quickly stuffing the presents into the Porter, he put his hands into his pockets and ran left. It was a short walk to his apartment as it was part of the massive Flatfields complex.

The complex was usually closed off to the public which was why there were no people, save for occasional passerby such as himself, either leaving or going to work. Streets were narrow and quite claustrophobic, stuffed in-between massive buildings, some triangle-shaped like the dominant architecture of the city, and some seeming more like the massive cubicles rather than original buildings.

One of those was also where his apartment was; twenty-five stories tall, a perfect cube in shape, framed entirely in thick glass, large enough to hold over a thousand people -- truly a marvel of ’aesthetics be damned; comfort be damned; how many can we stuff is the question’ mentality. The extremes they pushed it towards were reflected in the fact that there was no functioning elevator and that he had to climb eighteen flights just to reach the apartment. ’It’s good for your health’, they said.

Cursing inwardly all the way through -- as he had neither the breath nor the strength to do it aloud -- he managed to reach his apartment after a grueling, five minutes long climb.

Every apartment in the building was the same, whether you lived alone or with a family of ten -- three ’rooms’ stuffed into a cube shape -- the bathroom, the kitchen, and the bedroom.

Short of breath, he slumped through the front doors and entered the three-meters long, well-lit hallway. He immediately noticed a small set of shoes to the side, causing his frowning lips to curl up into a warm smile.

"Dad?" a melodic voice came from the bedroom as he took off his shoes and headed over. Entering, he saw Alana sitting on the bed, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her. She had already put on her pajamas, her silver-cast hair tied roughly into a bun. Though small, the room still felt homely -- largely due to her efforts to put up framed pictures of the two of them on the walls and stands, to weave a beautiful rug herself and put it on the ice-cold metal floor, and to arrange lamps in such a way that they cast extremely warm and pleasant light onto every corner of the room.

She turned toward him only after he entered and closed the doors, pausing whatever she was watching. Jumping off the bed, she ran over and hugged him -- though rather tall for her age, she was still to reach half his size, making the hugging a rather awkward endeavor on her part until he picked her up by her armpits and cradled her into his arms.

"You’re late..." she pouted lowly as he walked over to the bed and sat down. "And you stink. Bah, what did you eat? You should brush your teeth! Is that a stain?! Dad!! I told you to be more careful! Ugh, take off your socks! Gosh, you really need to go and see a doctor about--"

"Alright, alright, calm down, calm down," Eldon chortled in a deep bellow, shaking the bed beneath him. "Could you cut your dad some slack, eh? Especially since it’s your birthday?"

"Oh, you remembered?" Alana looked up, her silver eyes shining brightly, her cheeks desperately trying to hide the surging blush.

"How could I not?" Eldon shrugged, putting her down gently. "I’d be worried about my chip if I managed to forget even your birthday."

"Whose did you manage to forget?" she asked.

"Tayla’s." Eldon sighed.

"... ouch."

"Yeah... anyway," he cleared his throat and first took out a cake half her size, holding it steadily in his hands. It was a four-layered piece, each sporting four candles, indicating it was her sixteenth birthday. Frosting ran rampant across the edges, several dozen strawberries decorating the inner circles. "Happy birthday angel."

"... thanks, dad." Alana nodded lowly, her blush deepening, as she reached with her finger and closed her eyes, following the tradition -- take one strawberry from each layer, dip it into the frosting on four corners, take a single bite, and put it in her drawer until tomorrow, when she’ll carry it with her to the outside, feeding it to the Ancient Fish. "Hm... it’s... really tasty..." she said, staring at the half-eaten strawberry covered in the frosting longingly, barely managing to put it away.

"Ha ha ha, I’ve had uncle Rott make it just for you! He really is a genius, I gotta say."

"What?! How much did that cost, huh?! Did that geezer charge you an arm and a leg? He did, didn’t he?! Ugh!! Dad!! I told you not to get swindled so easily!! I’ll go over tomorrow and give that old swindler a piece of my mind--"

"Oi, oi, angel, relax, relax, he did it for free! For free!"

"What? No way. He wouldn’t even take free money for free. He’d charge you just so you could give him money."

"... why... why do you hate him so much?" Eldon sighed, scratching his head.

"Humph..."

"Fine, fine, whatever." he shrugged, slowly pulling out one present after another. "A lot of people miss you, you know? We should really visit them soon..."

"I can’t," she said absentmindedly, her eyes already turning to the building pile of presents. "I’m in the middle of my exams."

"... don’t lie to me. Your exams ended months ago."

"Different exams."

"There are no different exams."

"One of my favorite parts of your parenting is that you were entirely lost when it came to my schoolwork," she said, pouting. "Why did you suddenly start paying attention?"

"... ah, you’ll really be the death of me..." he mumbled as she slithered around him and jumped into the pile of the presents, opening up one after another.

He turned toward her and sat in silence, watching with a beaming smile as hers widened. It was calm, silent, and distant. They didn’t have much -- rather, they barely had enough. But... it wasn’t bad, he mused. He truly was blessed. More so than most others far richer than him.

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