Chapter 5: Whispers of the Past
The humid air of The Undergrid clung to Terrchel's skin as he and Leghorn ventured deeper into its labyrinthine pathways. Nature, with an insistent will, reclaimed the broken dreams of incomplete projects and half-designed homes that lined their route. Twisted vines snaked through crumbling infrastructure, and vibrant mosses sprouted from unexpected crevices, painting a surreal landscape of decay and resilience. A faint, earthy smell, reminiscent of wet soil and forgotten metal, hung in the air.
A group of figures flowed past them, their appearances a chaotic blend of old and new. Some wore baggy jeans, while others sported oversized hoodies that pulsed with a faint, radiant glow from their chest areas. Terrchel's sharp eyes, still adjusting to his new human form, quickly analyzed the flashes of code emanating from these glowing patches—they seemed to be some form of status display. Yet, one detail unified them: chunky sneakers with retractable wheels in their soles and small jet holsters at the back. A wave of unfamiliar nostalgia washed over Terrchel, a feeling he couldn't quite place.
"Hey Leghorn," Terrchel asked, nodding towards the passing figures, "those boots I see everyone wearing, where are yours?"
Leghorn, ever the picture of refined celestial swagger, gave a dismissive wave. "Those are hardly necessary for a man of my class. You see, those are merely hybrid velocity boots…".
Terrchel, with a sudden flash of insight, interrupted him mid-sentence. "Sleek, chrome-plated exosoles with retractable wheels for smooth gliding, right?".
Leghorn shot him a strange, sidelong glance. "Yes… and twin jet boosters mounted behind the calves, giving wearers of The Undergrid a burst of aerial propulsion".
Terrchel stopped dead in his tracks, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Why did you need to emphasize the importance of it being for The Undergrid?"
"Why do you feel the need to over-emphasize everything suddenly?" Leghorn retorted, a hint of amusement in his tone. "If you must know, these boots are rather low-class compared to what they have in The New Arcadia City, up ahead".
Terrchel peered into the distance, where the sky shimmered with movement. He was quite sure it wasn't birds. As they approached the border, he noticed groups of kids in pristine school uniforms, their tech gear resembling Leghorn's high-tech swatch and cyber glasses. But at this point, Terrchel's stomach let out a resounding growl, demanding his immediate attention.
"So, based on the data," Terrchel continued, rubbing his belly, "you're actually telling me that I've jumped to the year 2050 and skipped a few years? That is absolutely crazy and doesn't make sense, Mr. Chicken, but these abilities you mentioned sound fun. I'm intrigued by the leveling-up system". He mused to himself, This could be a way to achieve something of my own in this body.
Leghorn sighed, a theatrical roll of his eyes accompanying the sound. "What… Oh, you're back on the swatch data topic? The Light sent you light-years ahead so you can fulfill your purpose in this specific time. It's not that complicated, but with a fly brain, I suppose it could be complicated to understand". He trailed off jokingly, a faint smile playing on his beak.
Terrchel stretched, a loud yawn escaping him. "Fly brain, huh? Excuse me, I'm a scientist at heart! Arnold is just struggling to understand this fantasy world that lies before us, clearly. Because how do you suppose we get up there?" He gestured towards the seemingly impassable gap between The Undergrid and the gleaming structures of The New Arcadia City. It was as if the new city had been built atop the old district, or perhaps The Undergrid had simply sunk below.
"Well, now you know why they call it The Undergrid, kid," Leghorn replied, motioning towards the dense, mossy vegetation clinging to the crumbling walls that stretched towards the border. Terrchel followed closely as they scaled the natural ladder, reaching the top without breaking a sweat.
They crossed over the invisible border into The New Arcadia City. Towering skyscrapers glowed like silk threads, weaving an intricate tapestry against the sky. Floating mid-air lounges dotted the expanse, their occupants sipping molecular teas in anti-gravity hammocks, watching the silent stream of traffic zip past. Everything on the land below was pristine and geometric, humming with automated greenery systems. No wires, no grime, just seamless, almost sterile, integration.
"You know," Leghorn remarked, observing Terrchel taking in the sights, "you speak as if the man is alive in you. You do know it's just his memories you have access to, like a cloud upload. Arnold is long gone".
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Terrchel mumbled, his gaze still fixed on the shimmering city. "That human-sized chicken meal isn't sounding too bad right now".
"You do know I was once human, hey?" Leghorn said softly, a rare hint of vulnerability in his tone.
"What happened?" Terrchel asked, turning to him, genuinely curious.
"I fell short in life and got the punishment for it".
"Noted," Terrchel said, letting the silence hang for a moment. "But what is that classified section about? And what is the connection between Arnold and I? Why him? Why me?". A cascade of unanswered questions, not just about his abilities, but about his very existence, surged through him.
"You're very one-track minded at times and easily distracted," Leghorn teased, a playful glint in his eye. "Some would say annoying! I'd say the connection is, you and Arnold are both imbeciles".
Terrchel let out an exaggerated laugh and playfully hit Leghorn on the head, receiving an immediate deadpan stare in return.
In the sky above, Arcadians zipped by in hover lanes. This was clearly a place where commuting by ground no longer existed unless you were moving short distances. There wasn't a single vehicle in sight. Instead, guests in mid-air lounges sipped molecular teas while reclining in anti-gravity hammocks, watching traffic glide past in near silence. Everything on the land seemed perfect and geometric, immaculately white, and humming with automated greenery systems. There were no wires, no grime, just seamless, almost sterile, integration.
"Shall we first discuss our accommodation arrangements," Leghorn continued, ignoring the playful jab, "unless you would prefer to find a bench again?".
"You are surely rude for a so-called celestial being," Terrchel scoffed, genuinely annoyed. "Are you sure you're not a demon from hell instead, sent to torment me in my already existing agony? [scoffs] I planned on venturing into the city of New Arcadia alone; you decided to tag along".
"Trust me," Leghorn replied, his voice firm, "I'm merely doing my duty".
Over Terrchel's shoulder, in the near distance, the words "Cybro's Pizza Den" hovered in the sky above a building. This iteration of Cybro's looked vastly different from the rustic, rundown establishment in The Undergrid.
"I nearly forgot you've been carrying that bag of waste," Leghorn said, directing his gaze at the bag from The Undergrid Cybro's that Terrchel still clutched. "But we are definitely not taking that with us. It wouldn't be very demure or mindful of me to allow it".
"Yeah, the nicest thing happened yesterday," Terrchel said, a wistful look in his eyes. "An old man gave me this after I told him I'm starving, and he didn't throw it at me".
Leghorn sighed, a sound of gentle exasperation. "Unfortunately, that wasn't being nice. If you're hungry and someone gives you their scraps, it doesn't mean they're doing something kind. They actually gave you nothing. Think about it: he would have thrown it away regardless. If he wanted to be nice, he would have given you your own fresh meal or asked if you need a place to stay".
"Oh," Terrchel said softly, the realization sinking in. "I guess I'm so used to getting nothing that this form of something felt almost kind. I never thought of it in depth, especially because his facial expressions didn't seem unkind, nor his tone".
"It's not about the words spoken, but the actions displayed," Leghorn explained, his voice gentle. "People like that will turn and tell the world he fed you, but won't say he fed you dirt. You'll understand soon, as your adaptability kicks in".
"I guess…" Terrchel said, his voice trailing off. "Well, let's not waste what we have, even if it was given falsely". He shuffled through the dirt bag, pulling out a few pieces of pizza crust and some moldy crackers. He offered some to Leghorn before tossing the rest into a nearby garbage bin. The bin had an automated system; once the trash was thrown in, it immediately disappeared, leaving no trace. Not a single fly was in sight.
"Terr, don't eat that," Leghorn commanded, grabbing the meager food from Terrchel's hands and tossing it into the bin with the rest.
"Hey! My fly-self is not happy with what you just did".
"Your human self will thank me later".
Leghorn gently took Terrchel's hand and pulled him into Cybro's, which was nestled in a geodesic dome woven between two towering ultratowers.
Terrchel's mind reeled. My memories of being hit with a dirt bag or scavenger hunting dumpsters as a fly, and some human just shutting me in there with no escape, make me ponder how inconsiderate humans can be. Always only thinking about themselves. But now that they have these automated bin systems, there are hardly any flies. What if all flies were reincarnated!? A bewildered expression settled on his face.
"What's with the face?" Leghorn asked, leading him towards a table. "Sit down. I'll get us drinks while we decide what to eat; there's much to try here".
The pizza den was a marvel of modern dining. Robotic waitresses glided effortlessly between tables, and floor-to-ceiling LED tessellation walls pulsed with ambient synth beats, displaying real-time data art that reacted to the clients' emotional states.
"I was hoping maybe humans are only bad to flies, but now I have doubts. That must be the reason, but a big part of me senses Arnold didn't get along with humans either. It's as if he might as well have been a fly then".
"Oh, cheer up, won't you," Leghorn chuckled, pointing to the kitchen area. "Look, it's platinum-plated ovens fused with dark matter induction coils, slinging out uni-truffle microcrusts and starlight-infused pineapple glaze. Yes, it's pineapple; it's haute now".
"And tables with holographic marble with chrome filament edges, displaying rotating AR menus in vintage ASCII aesthetic?" Terrchel exclaimed, his eyes wide with childlike excitement. "No way!".
"Yeah, you really need to stop doing that," Leghorn said, a hint of concern in his voice. "Arnold was a scientist, not an inventor. We need to look into removing those memories, maybe."
"You don't understand," Terrchel insisted, "these are things in my memories that were just a thought for the future, and now I'm actually here experiencing it! Tell me, did they upload the human consciousness to the cloud yet?".
"Nobody uses the cloud anymore," Leghorn replied, shaking his head. "And no. That would be a real violation, and the Celestial army would need to intervene by that point."
A robotic waitress approached, her metallic voice soft and melodic. "Good day and welcome to Cybro's. I noticed you have been here for minutes and have yet to place your order on the table. Would you like to make use of our Flavour Hack terminals, where you can have your pizza custom-made based on your mood, memories, or even recent dreams?"
"No, definitely not!" Leghorn interjected, his voice firm.
"Yes, please!" Terrchel exclaimed simultaneously, his eyes gleaming.
"What kind of pizza will that be!?" Leghorn grumbled, clearly annoyed. "No better than the one I just threw away outside".
Terrchel turned to the robot, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Don't mind him. I'll have a latest memory + mood combo."
"Right, follow me, Sir Terrchel," the robot responded, a synthesized chime accompanying its words.
Terrchel looked at Leghorn, wondering how the robot knew his name.
"This way, have a seat, and your pizza will be here shortly," the robot added, gesturing to a nearby booth.
In the meantime, Leghorn placed his own order on the table and, for humorous sake, ordered Terrchel some chicken wings.