Outside the city walls the scientist retires to smoke his long-stemmed pipe and absorb the local gossip. As the burnt yellow of the sky fades, scattered fires spring up, each circled by a huddle of indistinct figures. The scientist approaches one such group, steps within the fire’s glow and notices a figure seated apart from the others, its face shrouded by a voluminous hood. To this one he turns his attention.
Ah, Liferuiner, it’s been a long time.
The figure nods.
And how many lives have been touched by your handiwork since last we spoke?
The figure stirs, clears its throat.
Actually I’ve been on hiatus, so to speak.
I see. So how have you been spending your time?
I’d rather not say. And you? How go the experiments?
The same as always, my friend. I fear I will never reach the threshold I seek to cross.
Too bad. It is hard for us on the fringes. Our work is never appreciated.
The scientist nods as he puffs on his pipe, watching the Liferuiner jab at the fire with a rough-hewn staff, jostling the reddened coals until sparks shoot forth.
I must return to the laboratory soon, my friend. I cannot tarry here all evening long, as others are wont to do.
The Liferuiner raises its cloaked head, reaches out a withered hand and grasps the fringe of the scientist’s sleeve.
Before you go, I have something for you.
It reaches into a satchel slung across its chest and brings out a small vial of pitch black fluid.
Take this, my friend. May it aid your progress in reaching that threshold you speak of.
The scientist holds up the vial, through the contents of which no light passes. A faint smile flickers across his lips.
I am once again in your debt, my friend. Please do take good care.
He stands and touches the brim of his hat, but the hooded figure has already turned back to the fire, stoking it viciously again with the staff.
Up above the craggy walls of the city loom in the light of the rising moon. The scientist steps forward, now following the path back to the structured madness of his experiments.
