In temporal displacement I stared through the ring of fire at myself.
And for a brief second I was everywhere.
Chained by my storm, I could only control my fate but not the fate of others.
What good was it to do anything, if nothing could ever be changed?
With the reach of my hand, I re-awakened the ancient machine, seeking answers.
For eons this world was dead, abandoned long ago by its creators and I dared to give it life. But the question was… perhaps this world wish to stay dead? Did it want change?
Perhaps there was a reason for it to fall into the darkness?
Who was I… to bring it light?
As it drew power from my chronostorm, I realized that this was not what I wished for.
What did I wish for?
What exactly did I want? I was a mere human, bound by my dreams and thoughts, tortured by momentary impulses, bound by fate itself towards… I wasn’t even quite sure towards what.
Lo and I have become… the creator of life.
It awakened, reaching towards me, consuming everything around it, to give itself shape.
It spoke to me, not in a voice but in images and song. A long forgotten song, that had not filled these halls of scorched metal for myriads of years.
A living kaleidoscope of colors lights and colors, glittering, sparkling and lighting up before my very eyes. Scraps of metal and glass tearing themselves from the ground and levitating, rising, merging into chaotic shapes and patterns.
Hundreds of unblinking, cold metal eyes examined me, scanning, interpreting and forming an interface in my own image.
Flesh forming out of metal.
Metal forming out of flesh.
Yet another illustration for my novel, Chronoscape.