In a kingdom on an island in an ocean far from Earth, there lived a people who once lived in peace. This was until the day a strange fruit arrived at its shores. Its pulp bore knoledge to those who had consumed it. But this knowledge was both of great good, and the darkest of evils. So this empire went into collapse. Five centuries later, a wandering sailor, thrashed by a storm, arrives on the shores of this jagged, crystalline rock. This is his tale.
Welp, I've done it again. I figured things couldn't get any worse after Ariana got married off to that wealthy prick. But now I'm on this giant island of crystals in the middle of nowhere.
But I suppose this is what I've been sent out to do. I knew that my losing Ariana was supposed to mean something. The Architect of this galaxy doesn't arbitrarily choose to tear people's lives apart. No loving Architect I could imagine would be so pitiless and sadistic. And even if he was, it was supposed to be for the greater good. So now, Architect, I'm asking you. What greater good is supposed to come out of my suffering? Am I supposed to find something? A lost treasure? The cure to an incurable plague? I leave it all in your hands now, Architect.
As I step out of the protection of my damaged vessel into the rapid-falling rain, I was hypnotized by the glowing green crystal spires that loomed over me. I've seen something like this in the mines that I used to work in, but there was something different about these rocks. I was picking up some intense vibes from them. These crystals were corrupt, with a great evil that seemed unmistakably tangible. It was as if the fumes of brimstone and sorrow were wafting through my pores, caressing my nerves. I felt this same vibe from Ariana's father. He seemed gentlemanly enough. I even thought, with the right timing, he would become my father-in-law someday. But, sadly, he was just a little more complex than I thought he was. The societal values of his home planet preached that the impoverished were to be forsaken, if they had not achieved wealth by a certain age. Those who enforced this policy called it the Architect's will. They claimed that the Architect created evolution because he felt that only the strongest were worthy to rule over the planet. All the poor had to be banished to the storage facilities on their moon, where they became slaves.
Ariana was nearing that point. Her father already owned an entire corporation, but Ariana wanted to discover what kind of stuff that she was made of. She was planning on moving in with me near the steel mill my parents worked at. But her father decided that that was against the will of the Architect. Also, he would be ostracised from his community, because he allowed her daughter to be married to a miner. So that was that.
I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to meet anymore people like that. In fact, the place looked completely barren. It was as if the people who lived on this island suddenly vanished. All that was left, at least on the ouskirts of the main city, was a ton of rotted, thatched structures. They seemed like the huts that the early colonists of my home region first produced.
“Excuse me?” I shouted. No reply. “Is anyone there?” I waited for it, waited for it, waited for it some more. Nothing.
“Ugh, just my luck.” I uttered. “If it can happen to anyone, it’s going to happen to Trip Daniels.”
Someone else started talking just then: my stomach. I took off my backpack and searched for some provisions. I pulled out a chocolate-chip granola bar. My favorite. But just before I put it into my mouth, I heard something fall over in one of the huts. It sounded like some kangarats initially, but maybe it was someone who still lived here. Maybe he could have pointed the way to someone who could repair the hole in my boat.
I approached the hut that the noise came from. Not an ounce of light was anywhere to be seen. So I pulled out my flashlight and took a look around. It looked like whoever lived, or had lived, in this hut was an artist. There was a big painting leaning against the wall. The colors were faded, but it was certainly more vibrant than the dark and gloomy skies above. It was a village, one where the people were dressed in simple dragon-skin tunics. Every single person was playing what seemed to be some kind of flute.
That’s very pretty and all, I thought, but it certainly doesn’t improve my situation. I was about to leave, when I stepped on something that made a loud sloshing noise; I even splattered some purple goo from it onto my jacket. I looked dowm, and there it was: a bizarro-looking piece of fruit, the shape of a giant bean, with these weird tendrils sticking out of it. Being that I only stepped on one end of it, I picked it up to check it out. It smelled sweet, very sweet, like ten times sweeter than any honey. It looked well-preserved. It seemed fairly safe to eat, I thought, but just to be sure . . .
So I took out a bile of fluid and put a piece of the fruit in. A quick shake and a couple of seconds later, the solution turned green.
Good, it’s safe to eat. Well, bottoms, woah boy, I thought. Better stuff this thing into your knapsack, and save it for when you need it. Can’t be a bottomless pit in this situation. You might be stranded for a while.
I wasn’t that worried yet about food. I had plenty of provisions with me. But a little something extra never hurt.
I reached into a certain point where shards of the strange corrupt crystal material started mixing in with the nutrient-deprived dirt. It seemed like, the farther I went up to the path at the top of the crystal plateau, the less actual dirt there was in the ground. At the foot of the castle gate, the ground was nothing but the hard stuff.
The doors must have been at least ten times my height. I tried opening them but it seemed like they wouldn’t budge. I must have gone at it for at least fifteen minutes, until the point where I was exhausted and hungry. I almost bit into that purple piece of fruit, but I had to once again be sure that I was Spartan with my food. Fortunately, I had my harmonica in my pocket, so I hummed a bluesy tune on there to get my mind off my hunger. That’s when the door suddenly opened on its own.
Okay, I thought to myself. Things are starting to get just a little creepy.
I peered in around the corner only ever so slightly. From what I could tell, the architecture looked something like a Buddhist monestary that was built when the faith’s followers from Earth started missionizing it in other galaxies. It was intensely overgrown with these thick, spindly trees that had lush green leaves on their branches. And wouldn’t you know it, growing from those trees were more of my fruit.
Guess you don’t have to go hungry for a while, I thought. Just as long as it doesn’t belong to anyone else.
I started thinking that no one would have minded if I grabbed a couple pieces of the harvest, but I didn’tt know how long I was going to be on that island for. So, same harmonica, another melodious tune. I must have played that song for another hour or so. I was starting to get really, really hungry at that point. When I couldn’t even remember the title of the song that I was playing, I knew that it was time to eat.
Just as I was about to sink my teeth into that pulpy, succulent, giant bean, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It was a child. He couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old.
“Hey,” I called out.
The runt didn’t move. I got up and went over to ask him for help. He didn’t say anything.
“Listen, kid! I need to get my boat repaired so that I can get off of this island.” Do you know anyone who can help me?”
He just stood there, staring blankly at the tendril-covered fruit that I had.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, holding out the fruit in front of him. He swatted it out of my hands, and barked at me. “Demon!”
“Now that it is no way to talk to—“
The kid was a ghost! How did I find this out? My arms just went straight through him. Before I could even say “Hey, what in the—“ he ran off around the corner, down a long, arched tunnel. I chased him down there for what felt like a couple minutes.
Then, I saw a light out of the corner of my eye.
Me and my big mouth.
I heard something shaking. The wooden door of a broom closet was rattling as if it were possessed by a dark spirit.
Aaaaawwwww crap.
Was there somebody in there? I had no clue. If there was a poor soul in there, I figure he was either too stupid to not lock it from the outside, or he ticked somebody off bad enough to get shoved in there. I couldn’t exactly just leave him there.
I approached the door, with my blaster held firmly, of course, hugged the wall next to the door, and with a slow, steady hand, I grabbed the handle, and, on a count of three . . .
“One, two, PULL!”
A man fell out, and on top of that fell the swarm of kanga-rats that were in there. As they dispersed, I saw the man’s face. It was dry and wrinkled. His jaw was wide-open. His eyes bulged outward.
This man was dead.
This better have been a case of bad food poisoning, I foolishly hoped.
I shone my flashlight down to get a better look at the thing. It was in some rich blue robes, and was wearing jewelry. The crown implied that he was a royal figure.
But that wasn’t the strangest part.
Hugged fiercely in his arms was that same purple fruit. It didn’t look like it had aged a day, but it clearly showed growth; its tendrils coiled across the man’s body and around its limbs., and latched to its skin. The fruit was absorbing nutrients from the cadaver.
I was almost certain of what I was going to see next, but I checked to be sure anyway. I shoen my flashlight at the foot of the trees, and found literally hundreds upon hundreds on skeletons, wearing light armor, stabbed in the chest with spears and swords, and cradling that fruit again.
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