16th of Ash, Year 4621 and 48th of Searing, Year 4620
Before him lingered a tower -- a tower of neurons, connected together by synapses. Glowing a dimming red, it vibrated color softly, spreading outward through a quiet pulsation. "A dyin' memory," he whispered, stroking his fingertips along the edge of the Engram, which seemed to convulse slightly at his touch. He had never used Junction before, but wielding it now would be simple. All he had to do was touch the Engram with the right configuration of ether suffused into his hand, and that would be all. It couldn't have been -- wasn't, too different from Guidance. As with anything, though, he needed to be careful in how he interacted with his mind. If he made a mistake, and dimmed it on accident and by too much, the memory could be lost forever.
He focused. Holding his hand against the Engram, he felt it tingle and vibrate around his fingers, his mind assailed by energy as his form vibrated. Sound itself distorted around him, and merely touching the Engram with ether infused played the shattered inklings that he still had of that memory -- whatever dull remnant still remained. He needed only to piece those fragments together, and fill in the blanks by reigniting that distant part of his mind.
He focused, and added more ether. It hurt. He could feel Strain even within his sleeping thoughts; that pain was unmistakable. His chest jumped upward from within the bed, and he heaved. But it was working. The Engram glowed a brighter red; he had gotten the configuration correct after all. As painful as it was, he had to continue pushing through.
Those fragmented memories tore in and out of his thoughts, flickering as the empty buzzing of noise filled his ears. Words from that night flooded in: Jack, the Wurm, Breakers, everyone, I can't--
"My God..." he breathed. The Engram lit up like a beacon. He had done it; the memory was restored. "Okay," Jack whispered. "Go time."
- - -
"Hey, hey, Jack!" the man yelled. "Quit dozin' off. We're in Rustbucket, not Emmanuel's ball-sack shaped enclave or whatever."
"Huh...?" he whispered, half-lidded eyes slowly opening as he glanced all around him. They were at a bar -- a somewhat beefy woman sat before them with a drink menu on offer, with patrons around the iron surface and sequestered into their own table sections around it. Some man was playing an instrument he had never seen before, in the corner.
"That's a Duduk," Lucas said. "It's from Khadai -- and I think the far ends of South Daravin, by Zirean. They like to compete over who invented it, but... guess we'll never know, huh?"
He smiled faintly. "It's beautiful, Lucas. Like... really beautiful."
"I know," he nodded. "That's the benefit about places like this; a convergence of cultures. Not just Badlanders. Some people come here in pilgrimage -- to worship the ether, they say. They even drink the radioactive waters."
He blinked, coming fully to as he rattled his head for a moment. "That's disgustin'," Jack yawned. "Hey, hey," he tipped his head. "That's Natalya Ainsforza. Koltoskan woman, right? Heard she's the new bigshot trader down here. Sellin' a ton of Lever-Actions from her home region."
"Yeah, think that's her," Lucas nodded, pressing his lips in thought. "Not entirely sure. Well, no matter. You know what we're here for." Right. They were there to tell Daniel's family the news of his death. It was... a long time coming. He had gone from the world so long ago.
