Somewhere Beyond Chapter One

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Afterlands

    Emerald Wendy Pierce, who usually went by "Em", was a thirty-eight year old woman on a party cruise meant for twenty-somethings. Even with all her makeup on she could barely pass for "about thirty", much to her chagrin. She felt that this was her last chance to party as if she was still young - in fact, that was the reason she had gone on the cruise.
    She had spent most of her early twenties partying wildly, but had settled down a bit. Not because she had wanted to; but because all her friends had. On her thirty-eighth birthday she'd been struck strongly by the fact that even with her best efforts with makeup she no longer matched the self-image she held dear - that of a young woman ready to party.
    When she was honest with herself, she realised that her choice to go on this cruise was mostly nostalgia, rather than a continued desire to go off the rails. It had been fun, and years ago when her friends cooled off on the idea of wild parties she hadn't really wanted to, but these days... She was older and more mature. Almost. It was her last party, ever, and to herself she thought of it as the end of an era.

    About three weeks into the cruise, when the cruise boat was out in the middle of the sea, crossing between countries, she partied the hardest she had since she had turned twenty-one. She plowed through cocktail after cocktail, and who-knows how many drugs. She had no idea where she was, what she was doing, or of anything, really.
    Late in the night, reality suddenly cut to her, for a few moments. Cold. Freezing cold. And water, she thought, but she was barely there. Minutes later for those attempting to get her pulled out, time that she didn't really perceive, came a second feeling. Burning. Her lungs were on fire. She tried to breathe in, but all that came in was water.
    The last thing she remembered was trying to swim. She would never know that in her state, she had swum downwards.

*****

    And then Emerald was... Somewhere. Surrounding her was a forest that - to her - appeared slightly washed out and off-brown. The trees were completely leafless, and there was only sparse weeds occasionally dotting the forest floor. The trees were tall, and many, but between their branches she could see that the forest continued very far.
    What the hell, she thought to herself. I've gotta be dreaming. She pinched herself.
    "Ow!" she involuntarily said, rubbing where she had pinched herself. Then she realised that her had barely heard her yelp.
    "Hello?" she said. But she couldn't hear herself.
    "HELLO!" she yelled. Her voice came faintly to her ears. That's fucked up, she thought. Why can't I hear myself? Are my ears damaged? My voice?
    She caught a glimpse of her hand, and looked closer. Even more than her surroundings, her hand, her (purple, in memory) long-sleeve shirt, her jewelry - were all brown. As she looked closer, she noticed that she seemed to be slightly transparent, as well.
    Her recent memories came back to her. Did I drown? she thought. Am I a ghost? Is this the world or the afterlife or something?
    She looked at the rest herself. She was wearing all of her favourite clothes - including a couple of items that were worn beyond use that she kept for sentimental value. She even had her purse. She got out her mirror, and was shocked.
    I'm - I look like I'm twenty-six again! she happily thought. "Oh wow," she said aloud. It's like... her thoughs paused as an idea formed. It's like I'm as I always picture myself. Twenty-six year old young woman.
    She put away her mirror and sat down in the clearing she had appeared in, and leaned forwards onto her hands. I'm dead, she thought. I'm somewhere strange, but I doubt there's a way back. Could be some kind of crazy death-hallucination, but I doubt it. Too dull and coherent. It'd be more like tripping if that happened.
    I guess I can treat this like the adventure of a life time or, well, worry about my cat and work. Two things I don't give a particular damn about. I'm younger, and I'm somewhere strange, so...
    "Fuck it," she said. "I'll figure out what's going on, and hopefully enjoy myself."

    Hours later, she was feeling a little less enthusiastic, and instead a bit bored. Fucking tree after fucking tree, she complained to herself. At least I don't seem to get tired anymore.
    She had seen nothing as she walked but trees, and the occasional bush. The bushes weren't much different from the trees - no leaves, though they had a different, shorter shape. It was the only reason she had been able to tell they were bushes.
    She leaned against a tree, looking out at the bland, washed out scene before her. I bet this is purgatory or something, she thought, sadly. Too many drugs. Maybe what I did counts as almost suicide or something? Or it might be the aetheism thing.
    As she stared off into the distance, lost in thoughts of purgatory, hell, and religion, she spotted something moving. She quickly focused on it - human shaped, off in the far distance. It took only a few moments for her to decide that she'd run towards them, caution-be-damned.

    Whoever it was was obviously only walking along, so she slowly got closer as she ran. After she had covered about half the distance, she noticed something - unlike her, the person she ran towards seemed to have normal colours (though slightly washed out with brown, like the trees). She paused, reconsidering her decision - but they had obviously noticed her, as they were now looking right at her.
    "I assume you're new to this place!" came a man's voice, faint, but clear. "I'll just walk over so I can hear you, and so I don't have to yell! I can probably answer most of the questions you have, and tell you a lot about this place besides! Mind, some of the more tricky ones are just going to have to stand!"
    In the distance, she couldn't tell what he looked like. I hope he's not... crazy or anything, she thought. She started walking towards him as he approached her, and after not too long they stood face to face.

    The man looked to be in his early forties, and wore a long coat over a vest and shirt. His boots were partially hidden by his pants; all told, he looked like a mix of an aristocrat and a man used to spending time in the wild. It was a strange combination, but did not look particularly bizzare.
    "Firstly, a couple of simple things," he began. "I have no means here of making your voice louder, or fixing your ears. I can hear you better than you can, but you will still need to yell for me to hear you unless you want me to lean in close."
    Emerald nodded, and loudly said "Gotcha."
    "My name is Ian Heppersbury," he said. "And yours, madame?"
    "Emerald Pierce," she replied.
    "I'll give you a rambling introduction to this place to save you yelling a lot," he said. "As you might have guessed, you're dead."
    He paused for a second, before continuing, "It's good that you know for sure. Sometimes saying those words gives someone quite a shock. This place is colloquially called many things, especially by those of various religions. An commonly used term by those with a scientific bent - like myself - is the Afterlands, although Purgatory sees more common use.
    "This place is large - roughly 10,000 times the size of the earth. There are settlements around, where those here have come together for defence and to collaborate together to create things. There are many strange things here; and the foremost is that all materials here - even what you and I are made of - are greatly different from their counterparts.
    "We have answers - and many strange facts - about this place. But I'll talk about your existence here first. It is different to mine. You, and all those like you (of which there are many) are often called "fades" or "part-here"s. "Near-nothing"s as an insult, also. If you are killed - which may happen - you will reform near where you died after a few days. But each time this occurs you will lose a little bit of yourself (or at least, so it seems). Dying repeatedly eventually leads to fades becoming near-mindless, violent lunatics - and worse.
    "Those like me - there are some slang terms for us, but we are more or less human as we would have been in life. For the most part, we never died on Earth. Instead, we brought ourselves here through one of many, many ways. None of us have ever been able to get back, however. We, like fades, revive if killed - but we do not lose ourselves; and it often takes a decade and a half for us to return.
    "As you may have noticed, you have poor hearing, can no longer speak loudly, and are incredibly weak." At Emerald's startled glance, he continued. "So you have not tried to break a branch off a bush or anything? Ah. Well, you will find that it is hard, near impossible, for you to break anything but small twigs. Others like you are just as strong, and corporeal, as you, so you will find them to be more or less human - to you.
    "Those like me..." he paused, and broke a branch off a tree. "Are of normal strength; or greater, in many cases." He handed her the branch - only as thick as her thumb, and as long as her forearm. She tried to take it in one hand, but it was incredibly heavy. She nearly dropped it, and had a hard time lifting it with two hands. She dropped the branch, shocked.
    Ian frowned a little, before continuing. "It is all rather unfortunate. But there is much more to tell. You do not need to eat, or drink, or sleep, or even rest anymore. Those like me need to rest if we exert ourselves, but even so, we recover far quicker than we would have normally. As a fade, your appearance will not change except through injury, and should you come back to life, will only change to suit your self image (if it has changed).
    "The two most important facts we know about this place are as follows. Firstly, every day that passes in the real world is roughly equivalent to a year here. Secondly, where you die corresponds to where you appear - each point corresponds to a point here, though stretched due to this place's larger size.
    "There are dangers here, as well. Long ago, a rumour began among some large fade populations that killing a thousand other fades without dying would allow them to become... 'Solid', is the usual term. Like me. The rumour is false, but there are always those willing to put faith in hearsay. They form bandit bands; some become serial killers in the settlements. There are also some like me, who are not... Very nice individuals. It should come as no surprise, really. But both of these are minor risks.
    "The true danger to you is falling prey to a 'mad swarm'. As far as we know, these have been here for longer than the most ancient of any here with their minds. They are made up of fades; who endlessly kill each other in battle as the swarm flows across the land - only to kill each other again when they come back. Most are mindless, and somehow fades who would come back nearby are dragged into them. I have met fades who escaped from a swarm before. They had to kill their way out - and it may be that many of those in the swarms are merely trying to do that; yet kill indiscriminately.
    "But consensus is that most have lost their minds - completely. Some even begin twisting in form as they lose themselves, forgetting what a sword is only to return with a long, deadly claw or worse. Swarms are a threat even to those like me; though mostly only to things we cannot move - often we can fight our way out without dying, and even if we do, we return long after the swarm has moved on.
    "The final threat (barring the rare oddity that does exist) are 'beasts'. They are... Formerly fades, that have become twisted, and somehow mostly - or completely - solid, like me. They vary in size, shape, power... Everything. They are all incredibly dangerous to fades - and depending on their size, can be deadly to those like me as well. Something happens to fades who have lost themselves sometimes to cause the creation of the beasts, but we don't know what. It's probably the source of the 'kill one thousand' rumour - a beast will have killed thousands, upon thousands, of fades in its rampage. I have some theories, but they are not... Complete yet.
    "Which brings me to myself. I am a scientist; and I live in this forest so that I may experiment with little risk from swarms or beasts; and with scant chance of meeting any other being for months at a time. The nearest settlement is months of travel away, though my home is nearby," he smirked, "Thankfully this forest isn't as featureless as it may at first seem, so I do not get lost.
    "I have explored this world - I spent ten thousand years walking its every path, or all I could find. There are many fantastic things here; and many nicer places than this around. But few as quiet. There are billions of fade; and tens of thousands like me all over the place. Some in little kingdoms, or empires, some in less demanding arrangements. The nearest settlement is one of the latter, a free city modeled after city states of old, with a council appointed to run it."
    After a pause, he finished with, "So do you have any questions?"

    Emerald sat down, her mind working through all she had just been told. "So, you're like, a scientist and you've been here for ages so you know all this stuff, right?"
    "Yes," he replied. "Not much from my own work, though, mostly from that of others. My own work has centred around understanding the properties of various materials here, until recently."
    "What do you focus on now?" Emerald asked.
    "Understanding the nature of fades, and my own nature, and attempting to understand how a fade may become 'solid', as they put it."
    "Is there a way?" Emerald asked, hopefully.
    "There is one, and because of it many fades slave near endlessly to earn a pittance. There is a substance that somehow holds within itself power that exists here. There are small amounts of it all over the place, and prospecting for it is the profession, more or less, of many. Its power allows us to, with small amounts, create some fantastic machines - though it is kept for the more fantastic, as lesser, similar substances can be used for more common things.
    "One device that may be created, when used with an incredibly large amount of the substance, can solidify a fade permanently. However, it consumes the entirety of the substance used, and all previous attempts (though successful) have also destroyed the machine - itself worth an empire's ransom in rare metals. A single fade would, with the amount they are paid, have to work for millions - or more - years to have a hope of amassing enough, yet many are willing to work for this dream."
    "Oh," said Emerald, disappointed. "So are you working to create a more efficient machine? Or one that doesn't explode?"
    "No. I am working on alternatives. I have several theories, and am making progress. The theories themselves are a little... Complex, but in summary I believe there is a way to cause 'solidification' with far, far less of the substance. Though still a considerable amount, unfortunately."
    Emerald thought for a while, and then realised that there was a more pressing question. "So, um, what should I do now, do you think?" she asked Ian.
    He chuckled, and said, "Whatever you want to do, madam. Though I would suggest finding somewhere safe to stay, and perhaps learning how to fight. It is... Not advisable to travel alone to the city without an escort, though you are welcome to stay with me indefinitely until someone who can escort you shows up. There are also a few roving fade prospector caravans in the area, who drop by my home from time to time that you could join up with."
    Emerald thought carefully about the offer, and decided that if Ian had wanted to do something terrible, he could easily have doen so already. He seemed nice, and sane, and perfectly normal despite the strange things he spoke of. "If it's not much of an imposition, I'll stay with you for a while," she said, accepting his offer.
    "Not at all. My home is spacious, and I enjoy giving aid to those in need. What's more, I can teach you something about fighting if you wish. It'll help keep you alive, and give me something else to think about for once."
    "That's - thank you," replied Emerald.
    Ian eyed the sky above, and said, "We should start walking. We can talk more as we go."

    On the way, Emerald pestered Ian with questions as she thought of them. He had arrived in the 1880s, as the result of an attempted magicians trick. He wasn't sure why it had worked - and from what he said he knew, none of those who managed to get through knew why their experiment had worked. None was ever the same, and most were bizzare.
    Over the past forty-five odd thousand years he had explored the world, become a champion fighter, studied the properties of hundreds of strange materials and finally settled on helping all fades a few hundred years ago. "We're all just as human as each other," he said, "and after many years I realised that I should care about the terribleness of existence as a fade, and try to help."
    Ian was well known among those like him, because of their small numbers and his travels, in part, but mostly in his claim to fame - "I was the bait in the trap that caught the most terrible beast that we have record of. It was... Huge. Monstrous. Of shifting shape and form. It was blown up, along with the largest city in this world (and myself, and many others), at great cost. I didn't know I was the bait though, and I am still displeased with those who decided I would be."
    Ian also asked her a few questions about herself. Where she had grown up, how she had died (when he discovered that questions about it didn't bother her), what she'd done with her life. A bit of general chitchat, to which he responded with answers in kind. Emerald had grown up in suburbia, and had been raised by her single mother, along with two siblings. She had partied and done little of use for years, but had eventually taken a human resources position, and later done a commerce degree and moved into general management.
    Ian grew up as one of seven hard working kids, and had at thirteen years of age joined up with a travelling magician. The magician had taken him on as his hands were nimble and his smile distractingly wide - a good tool for any assistant. He had travelled for years, and had been preparing for his first big show when he accidentally transported himself.

    After a long time spent walking, Emerald asked Ian one of the tricky questions. "So what about God and stuff? Or other gods and stuff?"
    "We don't know for sure," replied Ian. "There's no evidence of anything, but some people still pray to whatever gods they hold dear. People who have been around for a very long time, however, suggest that the 'cannot be disproved' angle is a crappy replacement for the 'definitely exists' angle.
    "And there's a few fades around with their minds intact that faintly remember being around way back in 1 A.D., though they're few. They don't really think there was anything special going on, but who knows? Those that have been identified were nowhere near the right place to be affected anyway."
    "That sounds just about as vague and uncertain as the answers I got before I died," replied Emerald.
    "It is, sadly. We might be able to nearly know, if we find witnesses of all events, and it is true that tracing history is the a 'big job' (along with science) that those like me tend to focus on, but despite knowing most of what happened in the past five hundred years to an exceptonal level of detail, we don't know too much beyond that."
    "Why?" asked Emerald. "Weren't some of you around back then?"
    Ian frowned a little, and said, "For an incredibly long time, up until the scientific enlightenment occurred, those like me here were little more than warlords, leading armies of fade. We suspect these armies often devolved into the mad swarms, in fact, but we are not sure. Those like me appeared with greater frequency after the Renaissance began, and instead of being scared of this place and later abusing our power, we learnt.
    "In the mid seventeen hundreds, the warlords were toppled and the armies forced to disband. But fades from much earlier than two hundred years ago - seventy odd thousand years here, you must understand - that had retained their minds were not very common. The number of sources available is few, and there are many that supply false information. So much is lost, and can only be regained by finding the rare few who remember still."
    "I guess that makes sense. It's kind of sad, though. So you guys tend to either research science or history? Is there anything else to do?" asked Emerald.
    "There is little else to do that takes so much time, although there are those who craft buildings, and tools, using the science discovered. I craft tools myself, sometimes, as part of my research. And there are still some who play with power, and others who indulge their artistic bent, or explore. But science and history here seem, to me, to answer the biggest questions. How this world works, and what has happened, ever. A full history of mankind, and a complete understanding of the universe are lofty goals, do you not agree?"
    Emerald giggled a little, and said, "Sure. Although if I was you I'd just party all the time or something."
    "There are those who do that as well, although they tend to get bored of it eventually," he replied.

    They arrived at Ian's home not long after. It was more of a mansion than a home - two to three stories tall, perhaps a hundred metres in length, and built from stone that was exquisitely decorated and coloured a mix of a rich,deep red and a pure white. The entrance was a huge, wooden double door, a pair of simple, round handles hanging nicely. A lock of some kind lay within the right door, and Ian pulled a key from his pocket to unlock it.
    "Welcome to my home," Ian said, as he pushed the doors apart. The interior was... Unfinished. A stone staircase with half-completed carvings sat centrally, leading up to the second, and third, floors. Doorways on each level led to other parts of the dwelling.
    "I did not do the carving or most of the building myself," he said, looking around. "The original architecht got bored most of the way through, and I was happy to have him refund half of his fee in exchange for abandoning the project. In all honesty, I only inhabit a small section of this place, and use most of the rooms for long term experiments."
    "Feel free to take a look around, I need to see to a few things," Ian said, indicating his backpack as he locked the door.

    Emerald spent an hour or two exploring the house. A couple of the doors were closed over, but she was able to force them open if she exerted herself. Most of the rooms were empty except for strange apparatus; many appeared to be used as storerooms or to hold a single, small experiment.
    She found a room she guessed was Ian's bedroom, as well as several guest rooms (a few equipped with bedding she could move, surprisingly), a bathroom, and a kitchen. Eventually, after she had looked in every room (and recovered her bearings), she ran into Ian again.
    "Did you have trouble getting into anywhere? It's generally polite to leave doors open for fades to get through, but I may have left some closed accidentally," Ian asked her.
    "No, and thanks, I guess," Emerald replied. "Why is there a kitchen? I thought we didn't need to eat anymore?"
    "We do not need to, but we can, and it is a fairly enjoyable activity. I am not much of a cook, however, and there is little there." Ian smiled, slightly. "Though I do have a significant number of beverages that are pleasant to consume."
    "Booze?" Emerald asked, curious.
    "Several things are close, and I have drinks with each. I also have a selection of other generally harmless drinks with other effects," he answered. "I'm quite proud of my collection, to be honest. I rarely drink them, but perhaps you would enjoy a welcome drink?"
    "That'd be lovely," she replied, beaming. "Thanks a tonne, by the way."
    "It's the least I can do," he replied.

    The pair shared a drink at the head of Ian's grand table. Emerald drank from a 'fade cup' - Ian told her that some fades returned with day to day items (if they believed they would), and as these items would remain if the fade died, they were often sold. She drank the same drink as Ian, watered down with something he called 'ether water' - water that existed as solidly as fades.
    "All water here is found as ether water, actually," Ian had said as he poured, "We concentrate it to produce something similar to ordinary water."
    The drink itself was called 'lime scotch' - simply because it looked (and affected a person) like scotch, but tasted faintly of lime, and nothing else. It was pleasant, and even with the ether water mildly burnt Emerald's throat as she drank it. "It's nice," said Emerald, as she sipped it.
    "It's one of my favourites," replied Ian. "Though perhaps not a good choice for a welcome. Which, again, depends on whether you wish to commiserate your untimely demise, or celebrate the new life and adventure that lies ahead."
    Emerald thought for a moment, and said, "I think I'll need to think about it for a while. What sort of drink would you suggest for quiet reflection?"
    "This, actually, among others," he replied, sipping his. "It's good to have company."
    "I'd probably go mad if I'd spent a tenth as long as you have alone. Or worse!"
    Ian chuckled. "Perhaps."

    After some more reflection, Emerald indicated that she would like a refill, and Ian complied. "It's good," she said, taking her glass. She took a sip, and indicated the glass.
    "Is there a sword like this I can use? I mean, if you're going to teach me how to fight, I need something I can carry, right?" she asked Ian.
    "Better, in fact," Ian replied. "There is an unusual, and fairly rare metal that retains great strength and rigidity at normal temperatures, despite being incredible light - and even if made incredibly thin. I have such a blade, forged to be used by a fade. To those like me, the weapons are not terribly dangerous - we receive scratches, or only light cuts if one of our own wields it. The blade is incredibly deadly to fades, however. Even in your hands, it would easily maim and kill if wielded with skill and intent."
    "It- I might have to kill someone, won't I."
    "You more than likely will have to, eventually. Hopefully not for many years. But remember that death is thankfully temporary in this place, so try not to worry about it. Avoid making those you slay feel pain, and kill only when you need to, and you will have done better than most in this place."
    Emerald mulled over the chance that she would one day kill, or die again, staring into her drink for a while, before she continued the conversation.

    Later, as they finished their drinks, Ian said, "If you want to try to maintain a normal sleep cycle, I would suggest retiring now. I'll let you pick out a room from those setup for fades, which I assume you have seen?"
    "Yeah, I have," replied Emerald. "More day to day objects from fades who returned?"
    "Yes. My home is one of the few that does has proper guest rooms for fades, as most would only have fade 'servant quarters'."
    "It sounds like fades are usually subservient to you guys," she said with a grin.
    Ian sighed. "To an extent, yes. In many places, those like myself take whatever we want. In this region, or rather, in the city, most work for a pittance out of hope. We are easily able to do the work of a hundred, or a thousand fades, and do many things they cannot - so we often relegate them to the things we do not wish to do, and that they can.
    "It makes sense, but some treat it... A little too seriously. Like a class distinction. For some, they had servants and were upper class in life, so it comes naturally. I find it... Foolish. We're all human, and though some of us came here without dying this does not mean we deserve to be waited upon by those who did not." A stern look crossed Ian's face. "Exploitation is exploitation, and it rankles me that it occurs."
    Emerald stayed quiet throughout Ian's rant, and after it said, "You really take the way fades are treated pretty seriously. It doesn't really sound all that bad, though?"
    "Not really. But this is where we are all stuck, for eternity. It should be a paradise. It is not; so I seek to help make it so. And I am beginning where it is needed most - those like you." Ian paused for a second. "But enough of the reasons behind my present aims, I think we should both retire for the night, such as it is."

    The sky outside the bedroom Emerald had chosen was almost black, but seemed to glow slightly. Ian had told her that the strange sky - bright without any obvious source of light - actually glowed itself, once one reached high enough. At 'night', it dulled and became dark. There were no seasons, and always ten hours of light, ten of dark, and four in which the sky lightened or darkened.
    The strangest thing Ian had said was that the time of day was exactly the same all around the world. The entirety of the sky, wherever you were, lightened or darkened at the same time. Ian had promised to explain to her the strangest thing about the world, but had said that it would take too long for that night (though he had promised to tell her another time).
    Emerald stared out into the near complete blackness beyond, and sighed. Dead, and alive, sort of. Safe, and incredibly lucky besides. And plenty of time before she had to worry about someone she had known arriving (and then plenty of time to find them, if she wanted to). It was almost... Too good to be true. She was dead, but she was, for the time being, fine. Despite the terribleness of much of this world, and the emptiness.
    Emerald lay down on the bed, not bothering to get under the covers or change her clothing. She smiled at the rough ceiling above, and thought, "Could be worse."