Stanley Medar Eternity

Stanley Medar died.

And yet, in every ending, there is the chance for a new beginning. To start things again, and take a different path.

And that is what Steven Rupert did.

Standing in front of his discarded clothing, he said his goodbyes. The long coat that had been in the Medar family since before they had gone underground. The small pouch he had cobbled together from scrap fragments to hold his possessions.

Both items that belonged to a man who is no more.

Very few people would ever know what Stanley sacrificed for them. The lost years of his lives keeping together a crumbling system. The hours upon hours of arranging trains, transporting goods, and trying to keep the needs of the people met. The risks he took trying to stop mass-murderers from seizing total control.

But it didn't matter that people didn't know, because he did it anyway.

At least… most of them didn't.

No one noticed the figure sneaking into Providere. No one noticed the parcel they left by a prototype rig. Not until they were long gone. Not until the package was picked up the next morning by the mushroom farmer Amandine, to reveal the pouch and note inside. A note which simply read:

“I did say I might visit.

-Friend”

No one noticed the figure sneaking into Caput, either. Into Mirax's office, leaving it on the back of her chair, also with a note.

“It's quite a comfortable coat. I certainly won't be needing it any more.”

By Harry W.

“Oh my gosh, it’s The Firefly! Can we get a picture with you?”

Mirax, Mina and Elias roll their eyes: this is not the first time the game has been interrupted, nor will it be the last.

The Firefly awkwardly acquiesces to the two young women clad in strange Overground suits of shimmering green. They turn The Firefly around, so that they are sandwiched between them, their distinctive glowing abdomen directed towards the camera, looking back over their shoulder “heroically”. The young pair are delighted. The three who know The Firefly are roaring with laughter. It more than makes up for the interruption.

Mina slides in once the two have left, throwing an arm around their shoulders, a grin on her face: “We have the Director right here but all the tourists want to see is our world famous cryptid.”

“Please… don’t,” the Firefly says, blushing furiously beneath the mask. “Can we just… get back to the game?”

Mina winks and plants a kiss on the side of the mask. “Sure. Just don’t go getting distracted by pretty young tourists: I’m looking to win this thing, partner.”

Mirax and Elias chuckle as they trade their cues to the other two. The Firefly takes theirs with a sigh. No-one asks any more who Stanley Medar was, and few even remember him these days, but it seems that ironically the price of anonymity has been fame. Once they feared people would want to see the face behind the mask, but no one asks, at least no one who wants, expects, an honest answer. Like The Moth before them, The Firefly is a legend, this sort of heroic everyman, and it seems that everyone realises that no matter how curious they might be, knowing isn’t worth the magic.

Perhaps it is therapeutic for those who had the truth hidden from them for so long to be able to find enjoyment in a little willful ignorance. Perhaps The Firefly is so popular because, like an illusionist, they provide a mystery that feels safe, one that feels fun, one the crowd feel they know the shape of well enough to not fear it. After all, The Firefly is just a person behind a mask, and what could be so bad about that?

The Firefly is snapped from their reverie as Mina touches them on the shoulder, ‘You alright St- Firefly?’

They nod, and beneath the mask they smile, ‘Yeah.’

The evening wears on. The alcohol continues to flow. Slowly the clientele is filtered down to the locals, those who have never quite forgotten the days when there would be very little to go home to, and then finally just to The Ghost and the four old friends.

They laugh, they smile. They remember times both good and bad. None of them have healed, not completely: how could one after witnessing such horrors? But with every day the distance grows further, the time of massacres and manipulation slowly slides from trauma into history. They have built something better now, a time worth living in, and they built it over the ruin of the past.

The last call rings and they close down the bar. They take the elevator to the surface, stepping out into the cold night air of the desert. For a moment they stop their conversation to look up to the stars. They stand there in the silence, until eventually Elias shivers and laughs.

The four part, two pairs each going their separate ways.

Alone now, Mina loops her arm through The Firefly’s, and leans her head onto his shoulder. They meander slowly down the road, struggling to stick to the yellow line on the pavement. Eventually she says in the slight, happy slur of one who has drunk exactly the right amount:

‘It’s pretty dark, Stanley.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Could you, uhhh, do the thing.’

‘It's embarrassing. I have a torch!’

‘Come on… won’t you be my guiding light?’

He shakes his head and laughs. ‘Fine.’

And so Stanley’s butt lights their way home.

Written in the style of a technical report, maybe? Just putting down ideas to help get a ball rolling for creative juices. Feel free not to do this

REPORT BY: STEVEN RUPERT

PROJECT STATUS: PENDING

COMMENTS:

Work goes well. We've found troves of knowledge here, like the last few stations. It's incredible, the technical knowledge we lost at Visio.

The state of disrepair in the lifts was more severe than any other station we had cleared before, but they're operational now. Another shaft to the surface is running. I hear that the space above is also well under repair. There's no sense mourning the lost time, but I do wonder, what sort of technology we could have if it weren't for Dane's decisions all those years ago. So much ruin. Compared to the technology the anthropologists have, we practically got sent to some sort of dark age.

After this, we look to Nexum. We've managed to get Obficina and Figura running well so far, producing a good supply of metals and plastics, respectively. Perhaps there will be more to find there. It has been impressive what we can do, with everyone pitching in like this and no unforeseen interferences.

/By Harry W.

=====Logistical Trivialities=====

The logistics map at the beginning of 2142. ;;#