Saturday September 3rd 1949.
Continuation of Orin's perspective
"A devil."
"Why not the devil, why A." I thought
A loud bell filled the train, signalling arrival at the terminal.
"The train has now arrived at the final stop: Verdannia. Please take all your belongings with you, and don't forget to put your rubbish in the bin," the woman on the announcer said.
The terminal's copper arches loomed overhead, latticed with old pipes and flickering signs.
Men in wool coats crowded the platforms, breath misting in the air like smoke signals.
The houses were made from brick and stone. They were asymmetrical, steep gabled roofs like lasagna sheets, each shingle adding complexity to their shape. From the roofs, decorative chimneys protruded, coughing smog from their bases, and from them stone shot out, outgoing from the structure in spiral patterns. Within the structures there were bay windows light beaming through them as snow twinkled by.
"It's snowing!" a boy cried out.
I looked toward him as I gathered my things, then turned to the window.
"Snowing… in September?" a man murmured.
Yes, that's right. It is unusual. Back in Meridia I'd never seen snow, not even a bit. However…
"You ever heard of S.A.D.?" the old man asked, still beside me, packing his luggage while glancing through the door.
"Sad?" I echoed.
"It's an abbreviation—Sensory Aperture Disjunction. Characterised by a growing awareness of hearing voices, seeing figures at the edge of your vision… strong paranoia."
"I hear some say it's witches. Demonology," he added, chuckling. Nervously. "Demonology. You hear that?"
"You investigating it or something?" I asked.
"Suppose so. A relative of mine… he contracted it. It killed him."
"You say 'contracted' like it's contagious. How did it kill him?"
"He killed himself," he said plainly, folding the newspaper.
"Was he close to you?"
"I'd suppose. My wife's brother. I'm bringing his body back for a proper burial. Left my wife and kids back home for this.
I want to find out more. I'd suppose, I want to right my mistakes." he muttered again, almost regretfully.
"You sure do like to interrogate, don't you?" he added, eyeing me. "Well, why are you here?"
"I'm looking for my memories."
"You came to a place you don't have any memory of?"
"Call it fate. Superstition, maybe. But it's like something's calling me."
"You sure you don't have S.A.D.? Would be a shame for a kind fellow like you to end up like... him."
His smile was nervous now, his words catching in his throat.
He started moving with the crowd, exiting the train. I followed, treading carefully behind him, minding the gap.
"Do you believe in any higher authority?" I asked.
"Used to—I used to believe not in a god but a collective consciousness, that we are all one. Are you a detective."
"Not quite."
"You should really look into it," he said with a half-smile, tipping his hat.
Snowflakes swirled downward. He handed me a pair of gloves.
I waved both hands in refusal. "You don't need to. You need them more than I do."
He pressed them into my palms regardless, still smiling.
"They call it the mad dog disease here in Valdora. The Lyssa Virus. Consider the gloves a memento. Stop searching while you still can. Go home."
I slipped them on. "Warm." I muttered ignoring him
The man walked off slowly, raising a hand in farewell. I waved back, watching his figure fade into the fog.
I forgot to ask him his name.
I'm sure it was a nice name.
I looked at his hand. The newspaper he carried was no longer in his hand. Odd.
A gust of wind roared through the terminal. It carried the cold with it—an unforgiving, sharp kind of cold.
Snowflakes danced like stars refracting light. Each prism spun and glittered as they pirouetted through the grey.
I stood there, still. Listening to the wind.
It carried whispers.
Though it wasn't my first snowfall, I stuck out my tongue like a child.
The snow melted instantly. I rubbed my tongue, tasting cold memory. The sounds were fricative.
White phosphorus…
At the corner of my eye, I spotted a doughnut stand. I walked over to it, stretching my legs after having sat so long. I looked over at the multiple pastries. My stomach growled.
An old woman behind the stand smiled, "I would recommend Jam, it's our best seller at the moment,"
I nodded, "Alright, I'll have it thank you,"
She begun humming a soft tune.
"What song is that?" I asked as she begun packing 3 doughnuts into a bag
"The Emperor's hymn." She spoke looking at me
I reached out my hand towards the brown bag before handing her a two Vail note. Then she handed me some change.
"Thank- Acho!" I was cut off by a sneeze
She chuckled, "May the Emperor bless you,"
I nodded and turned, tearing a bite of the pastry. With surprising violence The jam spat out, just dodging my torso and hitting the ground.
"Warm." I muttered before finishing the last bites of the doughnut.
I pocketed the change I had, before adjusting my gloves to cover more of my arms. The snow grew relentless, baring down a fusillade of iced winds.
I looked onward. The cobblestone streets were glimmering with snow; the sky was gray. Men rode in wooden carriages carried along by horses. It wasn't futuristic, but there were elements of it. Flying trains, yet still there were horse-powered carriages. It was as if the people themselves had been from a future set back by hardship. Or war.
I slid my arm out of my bag, letting it drop onto the snow. There was a soft crunch noise.
Zrrrp!
The bag unzipped cleanly, though the metal zipper was cold.
I searched through my bag, multiple pieces of paper obscuring what I needed.
I pulled out a ragged piece of paper. It was a map. It wasn't much, but it worked. It was good enough. I looked closer at the map.
"It's all one continent," I muttered.
"Both Verdannia and Meridia—it's a supercontinent. They are geographically together, only separated by politics and a few seas and rivers. Then Verdannia, it's split into four parts. Ceagea, Valdora, Vathanna, and Redonnia."
I looked closer once more, peering at the annotations surrounding each country.
Ceagea is a farm country in a sense—countryside would be a better way to put it. Redonnia was the country of industrialisation and production of goods. Vathanna is the capital. And Valdora, it's in between, I suppose.
As I squinted to read the map, a man walked up to me, holding out a leaflet.
"What is this?" I questioned.
"It's news on the Emperor's coronation," the delivery man responded.
"When's that?"
"All you need to know is inside the leaflet," he said, proceeding to hand me a newspaper.
I slightly tilted my head, tipping my hat in thanks. He responded equally waving as I walked away. Then he shouted, "Don't forget church tomorrow!"
"Wait, sir! One more thing."
He turned, "What is it?"
"I'm a tourist from Ceagea, I've lived in a closed off village all my life. What exactly happened to–Meridia."