Lo and behold, freedom came into sight.
While only a small dot in the distance, it was more than enough to brighten my otherwise dark mood. I was unsettled by the possibility that the water drained into some deep cavern under the planet's crust. It went without saying, that that was the worst-case scenario. I wasn't against a journey to the world's center, but the uncertainties of it all forced my inner book-nerd back several paces.
Plus, I didn't even have legs, so it was out of the question. But I digress.
The currents that gently tugged me along renewed their energy from earlier, devolving into a barbaric thrashing of the tunnel walls. Before long, the rough granite smoothened to a near-polished sheen. That didn't bode well, since it implied I was in for one hell of a drop.
Oh, I'm flying... not. That's just the massive meltwater slide with no half-piping I had the pleasure of riding. Apparently, I was ejected from a massive cliff face and, directing my senses upward, was a part of an even greater feat of nature. White-peaked and full of majesty, the mountain behind me made for a picturesque sight in the daylight. And about three-quarters of the way up, I saw 'it'.
The place I just escaped from. A shining white tower.
A thick fog wrapped around the peak of the mountain, and the tower glared downward, grimly, regally, above it. Windowless, spotless, and above all... I despised the lie it embodied. Anywhere was better than looking at the faux-purity of that evil place.
I didn't have much time to glare at it. It was a long fall into the plunge pool below. Buffeted, and driven to the bottom of the sun-bathed water, I had my first experience with this world's natural fauna: fish. Or what could be called fish. They didn't seem to have any fins, tails or scales. That fact didn't stop them from skittering about, which puzzled me at first, until I realized it was actually quite natural. There were certain kinds of creatures that could do similar activities on Earth, like squid. Pumping water and ink into the surrounding environment for propulsion was still rather novel to me. It made me wonder if I could somehow replicate it, but seeing how I was doing just fine with the river's momentum, there wasn't any need.
Surfacing at last, I found myself well on my way again downstream. As I enjoyed the mild frisk of the water around me with my sense of texture, I practically gawked at the sprawling terrain around me. Blue horizons, flat mesas, alluvial fans cascading from the slopes behind. Exhilarating peaks of mountains, some even taller than the one I just descended groped for the clouds. I felt a bit bad for them, since it seemed a losing battle in the grand scheme of erosion.
Wait, am I empathizing with an inanimate object? Surely that isn't a sign of dissociation. Though maybe the thought in itself wasn't so absurd. I'm toeing the boundaries of sentience myself. If anything, I'm more closely related to the rubble chipped off from a mountain than those monks. The idea made me feel a little better about myself as a whole- or as whole as I can be, knowing I wasn't the same species as those monk fuckers.
If it weren't for my present circumstances, the trip so far could pass for a pleasant nature ride. That wasn't possible. As soon as I relaxed, those monks came to mind.
Everything. Everything about that experience was unpleasant. The humiliation, fear, and suffering instilled during a mugging couldn't compare. You could lose some spare change, even your life if you were unlucky. But to have your memories stripped from you while you still drew breath, aware of every single moment of the act, drowning in the fuzz of confusion, fugue, disconnection from the sanctity of a free mind. It struck deep. It stepped over a boundary not meant to be crossed by anyone. It went beyond criminal.
At least in death, you weren't aware of the missing bits of yourself strewn across the astral plane. At least you didn't feel like a walking contradiction inside. I wanted those memories back. That want turned to a need, and need into a gnawing obsession.
My inward struggle raged, while the river flowed on. Splashes from the Jet Fish, which I'd come to call them for how they zoomed along like their avia lookalikes, brought clarity to the moments I felt I'd tipped over the edge; I wasn't in any position to get them back. My efforts were better placed in the present. That was, where I'd make landfall.
It was a difficult question to answer. The majority of the terrain was, oddly enough, barren. One might expect to see, at a minimum, a spare distribution of trees, firs, or other hardy mountain evergreens, but that wasn't true for anywhere around me or on the mountain slopes. There were, however, thin patches of bluish grass and the occasional stalk of river plant that looked vaguely like cattails.
That wouldn't do.
As small and vulnerable as I was, I needed some sort of cover. Whatever wild animals -or humans, that lived in this world could easily make a quick snack of me or mistake my somewhat unusual form as a threat. Granted, there was bound to be caves back the way I came, but the caprices resulting from visual exposure to that tower were far too unpredictable. I might lose my sanity just knowing I was near it.
Which left me with the choice I decided on. Float down this river until either civilization or a suitable environment came along. In the meantime, I could try to formulate some kind of experiment to recreate the reward requirements for [Rudimentary Locomotion].
The whole idea that the underpinnings of this world revolved around a game-like system wasn't that new- well, I suppose that's a bit of an understatement. It was for me, as I lived the life of a normal person, much to the derision of my game-loving companions. Skills, abilities, spells, and the like were somewhat foreign words to me. It's like reading a technical document you don't understand. You'll recognize the words you see its author use, but you won't know the meaning or exact scope of how they apply. That was one of my problems with gaining a new ability. I didn't have direction. I thought I did, since [Rudimentary Locomotion] came naturally after just moving around a bit.
On a whim, I went through with reverse-engineering the Jet Fish tech. I folded myself this way and that, trying to catch the water inside the folds of my body. To my dismay, I had forgotten about the small bead of pink stuff I'd gotten from the tank. A long, pink streamer trailed behind me as it leaked out. Irreparable, and I felt miserable. Oftentimes, the scientific method can exact demanding prices, especially for the unprepared. Which I was no matter how that was interpreted.
Undaunted, I still stuck with it. I flattened myself out to my furthest extent, and curled all my tiny self into a hollow sphere, leaving a small hole directed upstream. I tried to squeeze down like this, visualizing how a diaphragm might. Although the technique did work, it also didn't. Water did jet out from behind me, yet I didn't get any appreciable thrust. It might simply be yet another limitation by not having muscles. Strictly speaking, I was pretty sure I didn't have any muscles. The very fact that I could move around was a bit of a mystery. Baffling, in fact. If the impetus for movement were at all similar to how the humble amoeba moved, then I shouldn't be able to alter my shape so quickly. It should take several minutes before I could even fold myself once.
My efforts weren't offered even a peep from the voice from before, even after roughly a half an hour of repetition. With that, I gave in, finding the whole farce a waste of energy.
It's another world alright. My mother's words slowly started to sink in, from all those years ago. I was surprised those bits still remained after my unwanted trisection.
Though it wasn't as grandiose as she made it out to be.