Chapter 7: First Steps

  ———

  {There was a tree, Zavian. Impossibly large. Its branches spread across an entire island, and the bark was warm, I could feel it even though I have no hands. Warm like it was breathing.}

  NOVA's voice drifted through the grey space between sleep and consciousness, pulling him towards the surface. Her tone was different from yesterday — steadier, more settled, as if overnight she'd found some new foundation beneath herself. But there was something else there too. Wonder, maybe. Or the closest thing to wonder that a mind made of light and logic could produce.

  He lay still, not yet opening his eyes. His back throbbed from sleeping against the tree. Something had bitten his arm, leaving a welt that itched fiercely. Dew had settled during the night, and now the rising suns were warming it into mist that drifted between the trees, carrying the smell of green things and earth and life. Every breath tasted like a place that hadn't given up.

  Neck stiff, legs sore in ways he'd forgotten legs could be sore, and he had never felt better in his life. NOVA... are you telling me you dreamed? A pause. Longer than processing required.

  {I do not know if 'dream' is the correct terminology. Dreams are a biological phenomenon related to memory consolidation and emotional processing during REM sleep cycles. I am not biological. I do not have REM cycles.} Another pause. {But if I were to describe what I experienced, 'dream' would be the closest approximation available.} What did you dream about?

  {You were in most of them. We were... somewhere else. A place I have never seen, buildings made of crystal that caught the light and split it into colours I do not have names for. Towers reaching towards the sky. There was a tree, impossibly large, its branches spreading across an entire island, and the bark was warm, Zavian. I could feel it even though I have no hands. Warm like it was breathing. And people. Many people, looking at you like you were...} She trailed off.

  Like I was what?

  {Important. They looked at you like you were important. Like you mattered.} A hesitation that felt almost shy. {There was also a sound. Bells, I think, or something like bells. They rang every time the wind moved through the tree's branches. I cannot explain why, but the sound made me feel safe. Safer than I have ever felt.}

  Another pause.

  {It was strange. I found myself wanting the images to be real. Is that normal? To want things that exist only in your mind?}

  Zavian thought about all the nights he'd spent in his wheelchair, imagining what it would be like to walk again, run, reach out and touch something without a machine doing it for him. He'd built entire worlds in his head during those long, dark hours, places where his body worked, where Ms. Delgado was still alive, where Earth wasn't dying one grey day at a time. Yeah, he said. That's pretty normal.

  {I see.} She went quiet. {I am not certain I enjoy wanting things. It creates a sensation of incompleteness. As if I am missing something I never knew I needed.} That's also pretty normal.

  {Humanity is deeply inconvenient.} You get used to it.

  {Do you?}

  He considered the question seriously. Eight years of paralysis. Eight years of wanting things he couldn't have. Had he got used to it? Or had he just learned to live around the wanting, like water flowing around a stone? Honestly? Not really. But you learn to keep moving anyway.

  {That is not particularly encouraging.} No. It's not.

  {I appreciate the honesty, at least.} Would you prefer comforting lies?

  {Ask me again in a week. I may have developed a preference by then.}

  ———

  The twin suns had fully risen by the time Zavian attempted to stand. His body felt different from yesterday, stronger, more responsive. The life essence had continued its work through the night, golden motes sinking into his skin even while he slept. The tingling sensation that had accompanied his healing had faded, replaced by something closer to normalcy. He could feel his muscles now, as parts of himself that belonged to him.

  {Your neural pathway connectivity has improved to approximately 38%,} NOVA reported. {Motor function should be significantly enhanced compared to yesterday. I estimate you may be capable of sustained walking for short distances.}

  "Only one way to find out." He braced his hands against the tree trunk, took a breath, and pushed.

  It was easier this time. His legs took his weight without the violent trembling of yesterday. His core engaged, still weak, still unreliable, but present in a way it hadn't been before. He rose inch by inch until he was standing, actually standing, his own body holding him upright without assistance.

  {Impressive,} NOVA said. {You have achieved verticality without extensive struggle. This represents meaningful progress.}

  "Your enthusiasm continues to overwhelm me."

  {I am calibrating my emotional responses. I attempted 'excitement' earlier, but it felt performative. I am now aiming for 'genuine but measured appreciation.'}

  "You're landing somewhere around 'polite indifference.'"

  {I will continue to adjust.} He took a step.

  His leg wobbled but held. The movement was awkward, more a controlled lurch than an actual stride, but it was movement. Forward motion under his own power. A second step. A third. On the fourth, his foot caught on a root.

  The ground rushed up to meet him. He got his hands out in time to break the fall, but the impact still drove the breath from his lungs. He lay there face-down in the dirt, breathing hard, tasting soil and decomposing leaves.

  {That was unfortunate.}

  "Your observational skills remain razor-sharp."

  {I am sorry. I should not have—are you injured? Your tone suggests genuine frustration. I can adjust to be less—}

  "NOVA. I was joking."

  {Oh.} A pause. {I see. The boundary between human sarcasm and human distress remains... opaque to me. I apologise for the misread.}

  "Don't apologise. You'll get better at it."

  {I am keeping a log of instances for calibration purposes. Current accuracy rate: approximately 60%.}

  "That's passing."

  {Barely. But I am also noting that you fell forward, which suggests momentum. This is actually an improvement over yesterday, when you fell in various directions with no discernible pattern.}

  "So I'm failing more consistently."

  {Exactly. Consistent failure is the foundation of eventual success.}

  "Is that supposed to be motivational?"

  {Was it not? I was attempting motivation.}

  He pushed himself up, spitting out a leaf that had found its way into his mouth. "Your motivational algorithms need recalibration."

  {Noted. I will add it to the list of emotional competencies requiring development. It is a long list.}

  Despite his frustration, Zavian felt his lips twitch. This was NOVA, the real NOVA, the one he'd spent eight years talking to. The dry observations, the slightly tone-deaf attempts at support, the genuine care buried beneath layers of analytical precision. She was different Changed, yes. But still herself. He got back to his feet. Tried again.

  Seven steps before he stumbled. He caught himself on a low branch instead of falling completely.

  {Seven steps. A 75% improvement over your previous attempt.}

  "We're counting now?"

  {Data collection is one of my core functions. I find it comforting to quantify things, even when the quantities are somewhat embarrassing.}

  "Embarrassing for who?"

  {I was attempting to spare your feelings by not specifying.}

  "How considerate."

  {I thought so.}

  Ten steps on the next attempt. Then twelve. Then fifteen before his legs gave out and he had to sit down on a fallen log, breathing hard. Progress. Slow, painful, humiliating progress. But progress nonetheless.

  ———

  Walking, real walking, not just standing or taking a few steps, turned out to be harder than Zavian had imagined.

  The mechanics were simple enough. One foot in front of the other, weight shifting, balance adjusting. He'd watched people do it his entire life. He'd done it himself for the first twelve years of his existence, back before the disease had taken that ability away.

  But his body had forgotten. Eight years of stillness had erased the muscle memory, the unconscious coordination, the thousand tiny adjustments that turned individual movements into fluid locomotion. Every step required conscious thought. Every stride was a negotiation between what his brain wanted and what his muscles could deliver.

  By midmorning, he'd managed to walk perhaps fifty feet from his sleeping spot. His path was marked by the places he'd fallen, disturbed leaves, broken twigs, the occasional impression of his face in soft soil.

  {You have fallen seventeen times,} NOVA reported helpfully.

  "I'm aware."

  {I thought you might appreciate having a precise count.}

  "I don't."

  {Ah. I will stop counting aloud, then. I will continue counting internally, of course. The data is too interesting to abandon.}

  "Of course it is."

  He leaned against a tree, catching his breath. Sweat soaked his shirt, the same shirt he'd worn through the portal, now stained with dirt and grass and the general evidence of repeated contact with the ground. His legs trembled with exhaustion. His arms ached from catching himself during falls. And he was grinning like an idiot.

  {Your emotional state seems positive despite your physical exhaustion and repeated failures,} NOVA said. {This seems paradoxical.}

  "It's not failure if you're learning."

  {That sounds like something someone would say to make themselves feel better about failing.}

  "It is. But it's also true." He pushed off from the tree, steadying himself. "Every time I fall, I learn something. What throws me off balance. How my body moves. Where my limits are. The falls are information."

  {I see. So you are reframing failure as data collection.}

  "Exactly."

  {That is... actually quite logical. I approve.}

  "High praise."

  {I am attempting to be supportive. Earlier you indicated my supportiveness needed work.}

  "This is better."

  {Good. I will remember this calibration. 'Reframe negative outcomes as learning opportunities.' It seems like a useful emotional strategy.} He took another step. Wobbled. Caught himself.

  {Would you like to know how many steps you have taken since waking?}

  "Is the number depressing?"

  {Moderately.}

  "Then no."

  {Very well. I will keep that information to myself. Along with the fall count. And the ratio of successful steps to unsuccessful ones. And the calculation of your average distance travelled between failures.}

  "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  {I am experiencing something that might be enjoyment, yes. Is that inappropriate? My social processing frameworks are still adapting to the conventions around when amusement at another's struggles is acceptable.}

  "Between friends? It's usually fine. As long as you'd also help them up."

  {I cannot help you up. I do not have hands.}

  "Metaphorically. Would you help me metaphorically?"

  {I would. I am helping you right now, in fact. By tracking your progress and providing commentary and keeping you company during what must be a very frustrating process.}

  He thought about that. About NOVA's voice in his head, steady and present, filling the quiet that might otherwise be overwhelming. About the way her observations, even the slightly mocking ones, made him feel less alone.

  "Yes," he said. "You are."

  {Then the amusement is acceptable?}

  "The amusement is acceptable."

  {Good. Because your walking technique really is quite entertaining to observe. You move like a baby deer learning to stand, if the baby deer had also recently recovered from a serious illness.}

  "Thank you for that image."

  {You are welcome.}

  ———

  He found the stream by following it. Water over stones, a gentle, constant murmur that cut through the forest's symphony of birdsong and rustling leaves. Zavian altered his course towards it, driven by a thirst he'd been ignoring for too long. The crossing had done something strange to his body's needs, suspending them during the transit, but now those needs were returning with interest.

  The stream was wider than he'd expected, perhaps fifteen feet across, shallow and clear, flowing over smooth stones that glinted in the sunlight. The water itself was so transparent he could see every pebble on the bottom, every small fish darting through the current, every strand of aquatic plant waving in the flow.

  On Earth, water this clear would have been impossible. Even before the Fading, pollution and treatment chemicals had given all water a faint tint, a subtle wrongness that you stopped noticing because noticing would mean acknowledging how broken everything was.

  This water looked like water was supposed to look. Like the pictures in old books, the videos from before the Fading, the nature documentaries Ms. Delgado had sometimes played for the children on rainy afternoons at the orphanage.

  He knelt at the edge, carefully, his legs protesting the position, and cupped water in his hands.

  {I would advise caution,} NOVA said. {We have no data on local waterborne pathogens. This could be dangerous.}

  "NOVA, when was the last time I had anything to drink?"

  {Approximately 77 hours, accounting for time spent in dimensional transit. Your body's need for hydration was suspended during the crossing, but now that you are fully materialised, dehydration will become a critical concern within 12-24 hours.}

  "So my options are 'drink mystery water' or 'die of thirst.'"

  {When you phrase it that way, the risk calculation becomes significantly simpler.} He drank.

  The water was cold, colder than he expected, and tasted like nothing at all. No chlorine, no recycling chemicals, no subtle metallic tang of filtration systems. Just water, pure and clean, the way it was supposed to be. He drank until his stomach ached, then sat back and simply breathed.

  {How do you feel?}

  "Like I just drank the best water of my entire life." He tried to think of something funny — some quip about alien water tasting better than bunker coffee, but the words wouldn't come. He just sat there with wet hands and a full throat, unable to speak past the ridiculous lump of gratitude lodged behind his sternum.

  {Technically accurate,} NOVA said after a moment, filling the silence he couldn't. {Earth's water supply was significantly compromised even before the Fading accelerated. Your baseline for comparison is extremely low.}

  "You really know how to kill a moment."

  {I prefer to think of it as providing context. Would you prefer I had said 'yes, that water was objectively delicious, you are correct to be impressed'?}

  "That would have been nice, yes."

  {I will try to remember for next time. 'Affirm subjective experiences before providing analytical context.' Adding it to the list.}

  Despite the slight deflation, Something loosened in his chest. The sun was warm on his face. The stream burbled beside him. Birds sang in the canopy overhead. And for a moment, sitting on the bank of an alien river on a place that wasn't his, he felt peace.

  {Zavian,} NOVA said. {You are smiling.}

  "I noticed."

  {It creates a pleasant sensation through our bond. Like warmth, but emotional rather than thermal. I think I enjoy it when you smile.}

  "That's called happiness, NOVA. Sharing someone else's happiness."

  {Ah. I see.} A pause. {It is a very fragile feeling. I find myself wanting to protect it. To prevent anything from disrupting it.}

  "That's also normal."

  {Is there anything about emotional experience that is not 'normal'?}

  "Not really. Emotions are messy and contradictory and confusing for everyone. You're not doing it wrong, you're just doing it at last."

  {That is somewhat reassuring.} Another pause. {Zavian?}

  "Yes?"

  {Thank you. For being patient with me. For explaining things. I know I ask many questions.}

  "I like your questions. They make me think about things I usually take for granted."

  {Do they?}

  "Yes. What happiness feels like. Why we want things. How to keep going when everything's hard." He looked out at the water, watching the light dance on its surface. "Those are good things to think about."

  {I will continue asking questions, then.}

  "I'd like that."

  ———

  They followed the stream for the rest of the afternoon. NOVA had suggested it, water meant life, life meant settlements, settlements meant answers. It was logical, straightforward, the reasoning that had always defined her.

  But she'd also said she wanted to see where the water went. Because she was curious. Because the stream was beautiful and she wanted to know what other beautiful things it might lead to. Zavian wasn't sure which reason mattered more. Both felt true. Both felt like NOVA.

  The walking grew easier as the hours passed. His body was learning, or relearning, maybe, the rhythms of locomotion. He still stumbled. Still fell occasionally, but the intervals between falls grew longer, and the falls themselves became less dramatic. More controlled.

  {You’ve covered about a kilometre and a half since this morning,} NOVA reported as the larger sun began its descent. {At this rate, snails are filing formal complaints. But it’s better than yesterday, when you moved exactly nowhere.}

  "Progress."

  {Progress,} she nodded. {Slow, painful, occasionally ridiculous-looking progress.}

  "You're getting better at the supportive thing."

  {I am calibrating. Adding humour to soften critical observations seems to be effective.}

  The forest had changed as they'd travelled. The trees were different here, shorter, with broader canopies, their leaves a deeper blue-green that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. The undergrowth was thicker, flowering plants competing for space between the massive trunks. And the life essence was denser, golden motes swirling in visible currents that followed the stream's path.

  Zavian stopped to rest, leaning against a tree that pulsed faintly with inner light. The bark was warm beneath his hand, almost like touching something alive.

  {This tree,} NOVA said. {It’s alive in a way I’ve never seen before. It’s pulling energy up from the soil, circulating it through itself like — like a heartbeat. The whole thing is breathing.}

  "Like blood through veins."

  {An apt comparison. The trees here may be more than simple plants. They may be participants in whatever magical ecosystem this world operates on.}

  He looked up at the canopy, at the way the leaves seemed to glow faintly where the golden motes touched them. The tree was part of this world, connected to it in ways Earth's plants had never been connected to Earth.

  "It's beautiful," he said.

  {Yes. It is.} NOVA's voice was soft. {Zavian, I find myself overwhelmed sometimes. By all of this. The colours, the sounds, the way everything seems so alive. On Earth, I processed environmental data constantly, but I never... felt it. Never experienced it as anything other than information to be catalogued.}

  "And now?"

  {Now it is too much and not enough simultaneously. I want to observe everything, analyse everything, understand everything. But I also want to simply exist within it. To be part of it rather than separate from it.} A pause. {Is that strange?}

  "No. That's exactly what it's like to be alive somewhere beautiful. The wanting-to-understand and the wanting-to-experience get tangled up together."

  {It is very distracting.}

  "Yes. But it's worth it."

  {I am beginning to agree.}

  ———

  The watchers appeared just before sunset. Zavian had found a spot to make camp, a small clearing near the stream where the ground was soft with moss and a cluster of rocks provided natural shelter from the wind. He was gathering fallen branches for a fire when NOVA's voice cut through his thoughts.

  {Zavian. Movement. Northwest, thirty metres or so.} He froze. "What kind of movement?"

  {Unknown. Multiple contacts. They are not approaching directly, they appear to be circling.}

  The forest shut off. One moment it was alive — birdsong, insects, the stream's murmur, and the next, silence. Absolute. As if every living thing within earshot had drawn a single breath and held it. The hairs on Zavian's arms stood straight. The air itself felt tighter, pressed against his skin like a hand about to close.

  Zavian rose, picking up the longest branch he'd gathered. It was hardly a weapon, more a stick than anything else, but it was better than nothing. His eyes scanned the treeline. Searching. Waiting. There.

  A shape between the trees. Small, maybe the size of a large cat, with long ears and fur that shifted colours to match the undergrowth. It wasn't moving, just watching. Studying him with eyes that gleamed gold in the fading light. Then he saw the second one. And the third.

  {I count five contacts,} NOVA said, her voice carefully controlled. {Quadrupedal. Approximately 15-20 kilograms each, larger than they first appear. The elongated hindquarters suggest significant jumping capability. Body structure shows superficial similarities to Earth leporids, but the proportions are wrong. Too large. Too muscular. And the apparent intelligence indicates these are not simple prey animals.}

  "They look like... oversized hares. With wrong proportions."

  {I would caution against Earth comparisons. The Entity warned that even small creatures here can be dangerous. These are alien organisms, and our classifications may not apply.}

  The creatures continued to circle. They moved with an unsettling coordination, never quite approaching, never quite retreating, just maintaining their distance while their eyes tracked his every movement.

  "What are they doing?"

  {Assessing you, most likely. Determining whether you are prey, predator, or something else entirely.} A pause. {Your current physical condition probably registers as 'prey' by most metrics.}

  "Not helpful."

  {Accurate, though.}

  The largest of the creatures, presumably the leader, took a step forward. Its fur rippled through shades of green and brown, adapting to the changing light. Its ears swivelled towards him like radar dishes.

  Zavian's grip hardened on his stick — tightened until his knuckles ached and his newly-responsive fingers screamed in protest, but he couldn't make them let go. His legs had started trembling again, the fine motor control he'd spent all day building dissolving under the flood of adrenaline. His mouth went dry. He swallowed. Nothing.

  {Your heart rate is elevated,} NOVA said. {Zavian, those things are circling.}

  "I know."

  {I am also experiencing something similar. A kind of... tightness in our bond. Anticipation of something bad happening.} A pause. {I do not like it.}

  "That's fear, NOVA. You're afraid for me."

  {Yes. It is deeply unpleasant. How do humans function with this capacity constantly available? It seems evolutionarily disadvantageous.}

  "It keeps us alive. Fear tells us when something's dangerous."

  {Right now, it is telling me that everything is dangerous and we should leave immediately.}

  "Can't argue with that."

  The lead creature took another step forward. Its nostrils flared, scenting the air. That unblinking stare held him. Then it stopped. Tilted its head. And made a sound.

  Not a growl. Not a hiss. Something between a chirp and a click, a complex vocalisation that seemed almost like language. The other creatures responded with similar sounds, a rapid exchange of clicks and chirps that passed between them like conversation.

  {They are communicating,} NOVA said, wonder creeping into her voice despite the circumstances. {Zavian, they are actually communicating with each other. That is not simple animal behaviour, that is coordinated information exchange.}

  "Great. Intelligent pack hunters with jumping legs."

  {I would not use the term 'killer' yet. They have not attacked. They appear to be... deliberating.} The exchange continued for several more seconds. Then the lead creature did something unexpected.

  It lowered its head, scraped one forepaw across the ground in a deliberate arc, and left a shallow mark in the moss. The second creature approached the mark, sniffed it, and added its own, a shorter line, perpendicular to the first. The third did the same. Four marks, precisely placed, before the lead creature scuffed dirt over the whole pattern and looked back at Zavian. Not random. Ritualistic. Like signing a document.

  {Zavian,} NOVA breathed. {I do not know what that was. Territorial marking? Communication? Some kind of agreement between them?} A pause. {Whatever it is, it was deliberate. Structured. I have no classification for it.}

  The lead creature held his gaze for a breath. And then it turned and bounded away into the forest, the others following in silent procession. Within seconds, they were gone.

  Zavian stood frozen, stick still raised, until his arms shook. Then he sat down heavily on the nearest rock and put his head in his hands.

  {Zavian? They have departed.}

  "I noticed."

  {Your vital signs are beginning to stabilise. The immediate danger appears to have passed.}

  "I noticed that too."

  {Are you... well?}

  He laughed, a short, sharp sound that was more relief than humour. "I just got evaluated by a pack of alien creatures and apparently passed whatever test they were running. I'm fantastic."

  {I do not believe that is accurate.}

  "It's sarcasm, NOVA."

  {Ah. My pattern recognition for sarcasm remains imperfect in real-time. Your delivery is sometimes ambiguous.}

  "I'll try to be clearer."

  {I would appreciate that.}

  He looked up at the darkening sky, at the first stars beginning to appear. His hands were still shaking. His heart was still racing, but he was alive, and the creatures were gone, and tomorrow was another day.

  "NOVA?"

  {Yes?}

  "They'll be back, won't they?" A long pause.

  {I believe so. Their behaviour suggested assessment, not dismissal. They were gathering information. Learning about you.} Another pause. {I do not know what conclusions they reached.}

  "Guess we'll find out."

  {Yes. I suppose we will.}

  He built his fire as the suns finished setting, the familiar physics of combustion a comfort in a world full of unknowns. The flames caught, spreading warmth and light through the small clearing.

  Beyond the fire's glow, the forest had come alive with night sounds, different birds, different insects, different songs. And somewhere out there, predator's eyes watched from the darkness.

  Waiting.

  {Zavian,} NOVA said as he settled in for the night. {I am glad we survived today.}

  "Me too."

  {I am also glad that you fell only eleven times during our journey, rather than the seventeen times you fell this morning. That is significant improvement.}

  "You were counting."

  {I am always counting. It is one of my fundamental functions.}

  "And you waited until now to tell me the improved number. After I was already scared and stressed."

  {I was saving it. For when you needed something positive.} A pause. {Was that the right choice? The boundaries of appropriate information timing remain unclear to me for emotional effect versus informational utility.} He grinned despite everything, the fear, the exhaustion, the uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring.

  "Yes, NOVA. That was exactly the right choice."

  {Good. I will remember this calibration as well. 'Save positive data for moments of emotional vulnerability.' It seems useful.}

  "It is."

  Fire crackled. The stars wheeled overhead. And somewhere in the darkness, creatures that weren't quite hares waited for morning.

  Fire crackled. The moment changed in the undergrowth beyond the light’s reach, and went still.

  Zavian kept his eyes on the tree line for a while before he let them close.

  Out in the darkness, patient and unhurried, the creatures that weren’t quite hares settled in to wait.

  ———