“F**kin’ hell,” muttered the man—roughly six feet tall—as he stepped out of the pod.
Maybe it was a relaxation pod? No, no—too rugged. The thing looked ancient. Two hundred years old, easy.
He sighed, cracking his neck and taking in his surroundings.
Basement. Cracked walls. The air reeked of rat droppings and decay. No signs of life. Not even insects. Just a skeleton slumped over the pod, arms draped like it had died hugging him.
“Guess you’re still here, huh? Always watching over me, ya meathead,” he said with a small smirk, glancing at the bones.
He moved through the door into what remained of the house. It wasn’t much better—centuries of neglect layered over every surface. Rubble, soot, shattered insulation. Scattered remnants of what might’ve been a home. A warped chair. Half a toaster. The scent of ash clung to it all.
Stepping outside, the man shielded his eyes as light poured in. The sky was stained deep orange. Two suns hovered over the horizon like silent gods.
“…What the hell happened?”
He scanned the landscape. Grass. Trees. Clean air. No skyscrapers. No towers. No neon cities.
“You know, for being however many years in the future, I expected more. Flying cars. A big ol’ shiny tower or two. Something.”
He kept walking.
Eventually, he stopped by a river—one that, surprisingly, still flowed. Clean. Crystal blue. He caught his reflection in it: short white hair, spiked and slightly messy; piercing red eyes; a smile like he knew something he wasn’t saying. He was completely naked, but that didn’t seem to bother him.
For a moment, he stood there, quiet.
“I remember when this river was filled with trash,” he muttered. “Not a lot. But still—not like this.”
Then he straightened up. “Let’s see if there’s anyone still breathing.”
He pushed through some brush. Then stopped.
Click.
A radio. His body reacted before his brain did. He dove into the nearest bush and kept low.
Peeking through the leaves, he saw them—drones. Sleek. Silent. They glided rather than hovered. No hum of motors. Clean tech.
“…Gravity-based?” he whispered.
One of the drones pivoted. Locked on. Shot toward him.
Sebastian stepped out fast, hands up, flashing the most confused, innocent look he could muster.
“Hey—hey there! Uh… I think I got lost. No clue how I ended up here.”
The drone paused. Scanned him for a moment. Then—did it just sigh?
“Looks like another drunk,” it said.
The voice wasn’t robotic. It was human. Way too human.
“Hey, D! We got a drunk. Is this the one we’re looking for?”
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Another drone zipped over and scanned him again.
“Huh. Doesn’t match anything in the database.”
“You think he’s an exile?”
“Nah. Most exiles don’t act this civil.”
“Should we bring him in?”
The two of them floated there, conversing like bored coworkers. Their casual tone made Sebastian more nervous than if they’d pulled weapons.
Finally, one asked, “You got a name, kid?”
“Sebastian,” he replied easily. “Pleasure to meet you. And you are?”
They ignored the question.
“Where am I, anyway?” he asked, walking between them as they guided him toward what he hoped was civilization.
If they talked like humans, he figured, maybe they’d listen like humans too.
The drones led him through a dirt path that slowly morphed into cracked concrete. Tall weeds grew between the seams, and the air took on the faint scent of metal and heat.
“Y’know,” Sebastian said, side-eyeing the drones, “I appreciate the hospitality, but if we’re going into town or whatever, I’d love to not be the naked guy walking in like I belong on a wanted poster.”
“Right That,” said the drone closest to him the one who’d first called him a drunk. “Hang on.”
A compartment on its side hissed open. A folded black shirt dropped out like a slot machine prize.
“Here. Catch,” the drone muttered.
Sebastian caught it mid-air. “Cheers, uh…?”
“Call me Al.”
“Al, huh? Al the shirt dispenser.”
The second drone let out a cheerful chirp. “And I’m David!”
Another hiss—this time from David’s compartment—and out came a pair of pants, flopping dramatically onto the ground like they were proud to be born.
“These are my favorites!” David added, way too excited for a glorified patrol bot. “Flexible knees, decent airflow, and they even smell okay! I mean, for pants!”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You always this chipper, David? Or is this the result of being dropped one too many times?”
David twirled in the air like he was doing a backflip. “My positivity levels are calibrated to maximum guest engagement.”
“That… sounds exhausting.”
“Oh, it is!” David chimed.
Sebastian shook his head with a smirk and started pulling on the clothes. “Well, I’ll give it to you—these beat running around bare-assed in front of future drones. Thanks.”
“Welcome!” David beamed—at least, as much as a drone without a face could beam. “Now that you’re not legally indecent, we can enter the city without triggering public protocol lockdowns!”
Al groaned. “Shut up David.”
The road curved, and then it hit him.
Towering spires of steel and glass pierced the sky like the world had decided height was more important than sanity. Layers of platforms, bridges, walkways, and transport tubes stacked over each other in organized chaos. Giant digital screens flickered with color, noise, and incomprehensible ads that made him squint.
And still—still—there were signs of wear. Sections of buildings scarred by time. Vines creeping through neglected corners. Neon struggling to stay lit. As if the city was trying to forget it was built on the ruins of something else.
Sebastian tilted his head back. And back. And back.
“…Wow. That’s big.”
David let out a delighted beep. “Oh, stop it. You’re making us blush.”
Al buzzed in low, dry tones. “He’s right though. You’re being ridiculous.”
“No, no, really!” David spun in a loop. “We get it. It’s impressive. But try not to swoon too hard—this is actually the smallest town in the world.”
Sebastian blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” said Al. “Population: thirty-four thousand. Area coverage: size of a small town. Height?” He pointed his scanner upward. “Well… we stopped counting floors after the top half vanished into smog.”
Sebastian squinted. “And what do you call this place? Tower 6? Arcadia Prime?”
David chirped proudly. “Welcome to Brim!”
Sebastian paused. “…Brim?”
David beeped again. “Because it’s on the brim of the Core Zone! Also because ‘Edgeville’ tested poorly with the public!”
Al groaned. “Marketing team thought it sounded too much like a death cult.”
Sebastian ran a hand through his white hair and muttered, “Feels like a death cult…”
He stepped forward anyway, letting the shadows of the mega-structures swallow him as the city began to pulse with life. Somewhere in the layers of metal, neon, and steel was a world he no longer recognized—and possibly, something worth saving.
As they passed through the city’s checkpoint—automated gates, scanning lights, and a few suspicious stares from nearby drones—Sebastian finally let his guard down just a little.
“Alright, so Brim’s weird, vertical, and smells like burnt plastic, but hey—beats being dead,” he said, stretching his arms overhead.
“Glad you like it!” David chirped, hovering just beside him.
Al floated in behind, unusually quiet.
That should’ve been the warning.
Before Sebastian could ask what was up, Al zipped forward—faster than expected—and jabbed something into his neck.
Pssst. A quick hiss. A pinprick.
Sebastian blinked. “The hell did you just hit me with?”
David hummed cheerfully. “Oh, just a knockout drug! RestaSure, brought to you by OasisPharm?! Guaranteed dreamless sleep in five seconds or less!”
Sebastian’s eyelid twitched. “Great.”
And then he collapsed like a dropped marionette.
David caught him gently with a gravity field, floating him between the two drones.
Al sighed. “You talk too much.”
“He was tired!”
“He was confused.”
“Same thing!”
Together, the two drones soared upward, weaving through Brim’s vertical maze with ease.
Destination: St. Atlas Recovery Clinic, Ward B.
Patient: Unknown Male. Codename: “Relic.”
Condition: Stable. Processing.
