His parents were concerned. His fascination with ancient solid forms is a thing they hope he’d grow out off. “That building that is left on ground” he’d whine “the colorful balls in the glass bubble. He won’t give me any!” Of all kids his age, he insists to walk. No amount of punishment would get him to float. “It’s safer” his parents were concerned.
It was white, light and downy. The whiteness of the clouds was covering the cityships that were floating above the nothingness. We finally achieved the ultimate quietness, yet an old one would still ache reminiscing to hear himself whoosh through a cloud, just to remember his one thousand years ago. He’d wish to hear a pin drop, if only it finds a ground to hit.
The sign on the grounded building is always lit up. The kid looks up to stare at it in admiration before he stomps in. The dark greenness of the reception area paired up with the thick moist odor would make anyone back out. A loud high-pitched laugh echoes on the cheap old marble walls, coming from the empty reception counter facing him, every time the boy barged in. His light brown eyes gets wider in excitement when he spots it. The colorful balls trapped in the glass bubble. The reason he keeps coming back.
“you’re back, little one!” The high-pitched voice said, as the ghostly white receptionist walks from the back door of the counter.
“Tell me what this is.” The dark skinned boy says, as he squeezes his eyes and points at the machine.
“This is Delmon.” The wide mouth of receptionist spells out “And it’s as ancient as time.” He creepily smiled.
Knowing he is not getting answers from the muddled man, the kid looks around studying the building. All walls, floor, even the counter are cladded in gloomy greenish grey, like they’re designed to look covered in mildew. The machine stands on a sun ray yellow base, too bright to look like it belongs. Without knowing the reason why, the boy relates to this building in his neglect of the expected, the lack of relationship with context, and rebellion
"what's your name, lil one?" the receptionist breaks his studying observing gaze, moving his messy hair off his face with both hands, uncovering his yellow smirk.
"I need one of those." The boy insists, standing in front of the glass machine.
"No name, huh? Enchanting!" The quirky receptionist's eyes shudder as he gets more fidgety. "As you can read, little boy, on the sign.
It says it. For residents only!
For residents only.
Only for residents."
Residents seems the furthest thing from possible. The boy looks around. The dark reception has no windows, no waiting chairs, only the high uninviting reception counter, and the glass machine facing a door that leads to darkness. As he keeps staring at the glass machine, looking at the colorful balls trapped inside, tilting his head to look at the shining spiral metal slide leading to the tiny door in the in the shiny yellow base. Suddenly his eyes move fast, trying to catch a moving reflection on the machine. He rashly looks to the door behind him. "Residents?" The boy eagerly runs into the door, following the clue.
"Boy!" The receptionist yells "Boy!?" He giggles as his voice fades away.
As he enters to utter blackness, the lighter air tells his skin he entered an atrium. His heart races and his breathing gets heavy; the dust is unmistakable. He could feel the ceiling being higher. His stomping echoes no more. It is quiet, like the city. Dead, also like the city. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, the stairs in the centre of atrium starts to materialize before his eyes. He looks around to find doors that open to a small connecting walkway. There he was, his clue, the resident, floating on the stairs, entering into the light. It was the first door on the left just a level above, This became clear after the resident swung it open flooding the space with light.
The boy impulsively follows, riding the moving stairs to the upper floor, runs to the door, and runs into it. He abruptly stops as the light of the overly brightly lit room hits his eyes. It takes the boy a few blinks and a few short breathes to see a man’s back ahead of him. A bald man stands as tall as a lighthouse, facing the wall in front of him. His skin was so white, so pale, that his head was almost one with the light. His white loose clothes against the white wall were making it hard for his body to be spotted. The boy is startled by the unfamiliar sight. His body twitches, his toes brush against the floor, like he is telling his foot to move, to run, but his body is overwhelmed and is failing him. In a slow float like move, the tall man moves closer to the wall and places his ethereally white hand on it. In a husky voice in a slow tone he whispers to the wall "You shall stay. You are forever. You are Delmon."
The boy gasps for air, after minutes of forgetting to breathe, alarmed by the bewildering man. The huff he lets out alerts him. Not moving a joint, he slowly and rigidly rotates his body to face the boy. His light wide penetrating eyes look at the boy's face and without blinking travels between its features. Starting to shake, the boy gathers just enough courage to turn his head then lifts his arm preparing to run. With his breathes getting louder, he feels a hand tapping his shoulder, and a husky voice that says "You shall stay. You are forever. You are the preserver now."