Seszil: Walk
Krysars are grown in Fesii. Once their will and consciousness fully embed their crystal components, they are given a number of days to compose themselves and learn how to hold their various sections together. They learn how to speak, how to rest, and how to use their bodies to interact with the world. When that is done, they are sent outside the growth habitats, lined up in the center of Fesii, and told to walk.
In ranks of three abreast, they begin walking forward. Their crystalline feet clack against the smooth road as they pass the crumbling, waist-high stone wall that marks the city’s limit.
These Krysars, the 150 of this growth cycle, do not now where they’re going. Their growth minders told them to walk, and so they do. At this level of mental development, they have no reason to question the instructions and haven’t developed a sense of self preservation. The world is still new and this road is a pathway through new wonders, the likes of which they have never seen or imagined.
However, the road’s path through the Cryce mountains, sonically carved from the stone to flow with the razor-sharp peaks and skirt precipitous canyons, is lost on these Krysars. They do not appreciate the Orb hanging overhead, banishing all shadows under the twin glare of orblight and glistening snow. They do not register how storm clouds to the south pile high into the air, reaching toward the Orb as though they wish to snuff it out under a torrent of ice and snow as they have half the planet. These Krysars do not appreciate the delicate swirls of light snow flitting through the air and settling on the road ahead of them.
But one Krysar does. Its name is Seszil.
It is plodding along with the other 149 genderless crystal constructs in this group, rocking from side to side just like the others as it contemplates what it is—who it is. These are the questions the growth minders intended for the new Krysars to contemplate as they stride onward in perfect unison. By first grappling with the questions of personality, existence, and purpose they will be able to form higher levels of thought and existence in progressively larger circles of understanding. It is the most efficient way to form higher levels of thought, according to Krysar teachings dating back to the first days after Sorcerer Svlod gave them consciousness and will.
Yet Seszil’s mind is skipping those steps, scampering ahead and short circuiting those teachings.
Who are these other Krysars? What are they thinking? How do they see me?
How should I see them?
Seszil’s eyes brighten for a moment as it takes in the ranks of Krysars walking ahead of it.
Where does this road go? Why is it here? Why don’t we know where we’re going? If we’re going anywhere. Why are we in these lines? Why are we walking?
What is around this road?
At this final thought, Seszil looks up. It can now see the finely powdered snow glowing in the Orb’s midday light. It can examine the swirling pattern these flakes take as the wind spins, tosses, and twirls them through the air. Its gaze swings down until it reaches the natural wall rising up on the road’s right side as it slices through the mountain.
Its gaze snaps up to the left, staring at the other wall and then following the mountain’s slope as it ascends into the sky. Seszil immediately begins calculating the fastest route to climb up.
Why not make your own path when the road you are on has no destination?
Increasing its pace, angling left to stay between two ranks of Krysars, Seszil walks toward the sheer wall.
A few sets of Krysar eyes follow Seszil on its journey, but not one word of protest arises. Lost in thought about themselves as they are, the other Krysars take no more notice of Seszil than a slumbering human notices a fly crawling on his or her hand.
Seszil mounts the wall, sharp crystalline fingers spearing the mountainside as it climbs upward. It hears the crunching of the rock and ice under its hands and decides it likes the sharp sound.
In short order Seszil finds itself clambering over the top, scattering old, ice-laden snow into the air as it levers itself up. It turns, gazing out over the road, and lets out a quick, stuttering clack of a surprised Krysar.
Cryce—it’s beautiful.
The storm clouds and their endless blizzard speed across the horizon as a shifting mix of dark grey, nearly black, and dirty silver slashes across the sky. Below, past the road, the mountain falls away in a perfectly smooth plane of pure white that sparkles in the Orb’s radiance. Ten thousand Krysar crystals, carefully wrought, could never match these exquisite pinpoints of light on the mountain, Seszil knows. A valley runs far below, and it snakes through the mountain range, lumpen with the final result of a hundred landslides underneath this vantage point. Everything is fashioned on such a large scale that it overawes Seszil’s fresh mind. It stares at the sight for hours, standing stock still in the deep snow.
As the Orb drops through the sky, its light falls into Seszil’s eyes, and it realizes too much time has passed. It needs to continue its journey.
Wherever it may take me.
Seszil clambers down by following its toe and handholds from the trip up. Not knowing how much longer the road goes on, where it runs, or even if it truly comes to an end, it breaks off into a sprint. High stamina means the lone sound of crystal feet clattering against stone goes on for hours and thinly echoes off the snow-crusted cliffs.
The Orb has nearly fallen behind the mountains by now, which leaves Seszil to trot along in a half shadow. Banks of snow high in the mountains still reflect some light, but the Krysar is moving only deeper into darkness with each step. Slowly, however, it comes to see a thin line of light creeping along a wide, gentle bend as the road slips down and wraps around the mountain’s base. The line of light grows thicker, brighter, like a second orbrise from the valley’s depths.
But it is a green light; vibrant and deep as any emerald. It tints the shadows cast along the ground and turns Seszil into a walking example of lapidary handiwork.
The road straightens and Seszil realizes the light is coming from a word hanging high in the air: Welcome.
Welcome to where? What acts created this word and keep it there?
Behind the flickering green word are dots of light. Seszil realizes this as it walks forward, still staring up at the word. The other dots are buildings. Tall buildings rise toward the mountaintops, carving through the air and shimmering as other lights cast out new designs for all to see.
This must be artwork. Amazing.
Seszil’s eyes finally draw down, taking in the space ahead as the road continues into the city—yes, it decides, this is a city—and it sees a group of Krysars standing in the road’s center. They are looking at Seszil.
Certainly I’m not the most interesting thing here when there are such wonders in the air itself.
Seszil slowly walks forward, noting how there are nine other Krysars in the road. Six hold energy batons it can dimly hear crackling in the clear air. The other three Krysar stride forward in a triangle formation, and Seszil notices each one has a soft glowing light about their shoulders.
They meet Seszil halfway. “Welcome” hangs over their heads as they speak.
“You are Seszil,” the Krysar with the gold light says. Its voice is precise in enunciation and reminds Seszil of its minders in Fesii.
“I am. What is this Krysar’s name?”
“I am Casvii, Deviser of Rubrics for this generation. We have seen 149 Krysars through this gate today. You are the last. Why?”
Seszil gives a straightforward answer, as it has no idea the last time a Krysar has been more than an hour behind the rest of its group was during the third generation.
“I stopped to look at the mountains.” It pauses, looking up through the hologram at the peaks overhead. “They are beautiful.”
Three Krysar heads simultaneously cock in curiosity at the individual before them. The one on the right, with a green light coming from its shoulders—Ataxi, the Missionary Procurer—speaks first.
“You gazed on the mountains,” it says, drawing out the words as though it can hardly believe it was speaking them.
“I did,” Seszil says, at ease before the three. It quickly follows with a question of its own. “How do you light yourselves in such a manner?”
Casvii responds after another moment. “They are modified Krysar crystals, crafted by the finest laserwrights. Each is filled with a recycling laser light.”
“You weld them in with your will?”
“Yes,” Casvii says. It is about to say more when the third Krysar—Kasyx, the Advisor Procurer—interrupts.
“Why did you stop to gaze on the mountains?” it asks. The violet light coming from its shoulders seems to flare for a moment.
“I wanted to see what they looked like.” An edge of confusion runs along Seszil’s tone. “Is that uncommon?”
Casvii, Ataxi, and Kasyx exchange a glance that lasts a long moment. Turning back, Casvii answers.
“We will discuss this tomorrow. For now, Seszil, you must rest. I can see your will is diminished after today’s events. Come.”
Casvii waves a hand at the city behind it, drawing attention to the spectrums of bright lights, lasers, and energy hues that turn the city into an impressionistic landscape. These lights scatter through Seszil’s tightly packed crystals as it stands in the road with near reverence, distracted to the point it must be beckoned forward. Ataxi takes in the young Krysar’s bright-eyed expression and smiles with understanding; it too can remember the first time it saw this city.
“Welcome to Cybek, young Krysar. Tomorrow your Rubric of Skill and Rubric of Vocation begin.”
I cannot wait.