Brigadier Bread
Steampunker
It's dark. It was always dark nowadays, everywhere I go, dark dark dark dark dark, like I only wind up in places at night. It would be nice to see something in perfect clarity for once, with a sun or two shining down on the planet, over plains or snow-filled tundra. Unfortunately for me, those will only be dreams. Right now I'm sitting in a box; a big, empty, box, save for the once light source, a low burning firepit that never goes out, a few feet across the smooth plastic-like floor. If only it was plastic. Then I could easily break the walls with a few kicks, but even if I could I would still be stuck in the void the human crammed this box into. Time doesn't pass very smoothly here. Clocks would tick, but it could never really apply. In here, you never age, you never eat, you never drink. That's probably why the fire hasn't gone out yet. Basically, infinite stasis while locked in the void I call the Howling. I've been stuck in this box for quite a long time, the door standing on the edge of the box never opening, never even hinting that there's anyone still alive to let me out. Although I have a feeling I will leave soon. Quite soon. And I am generally a very, lucky, person.
Prologue
About fifty years ago, I was walking down a street somewhere in the nice country on your planet called England. The day was nice for something I got to see, at least, if you don't mind lots of rain and thunder. My body was not what I wanted it to be. Humans at old age aren't very predictable, especially one so changed to inhabit me. It would be nice to have something you know won't give out on you any moment now. I've been alive for a thousand or two years, It would suck to lose most of my memories because I stole a dying man's body. Back to the street; I had been wandering the country for some time trying to find a person who's death wouldn't be too noticeable. Right about that time I did manage to find a perfect host, though. About 6'1", the man had dark brown hair and a generally soft looking face. Better yet, he was homeless! That night, while he was sleeping in an alley I decided to take him. Might as well do it now, I thought, the pain may be worth it this time. I positioned myself (awkwardly, as an old man, kneeling isn't exactly comfortable) over him; slamming his head into the concrete to make sure he was out cold, and setting my watch and my binary "wand" off to the side. I stuck my hand in the man's forced open mouth and began to focus. Focus on leaving. On moving. My mind in his mind. After a minute, the world went grey. I could feel it happening. In that moment, I regretted it, as i fell over and began convulsing uncontrollably. My vision went black. I could feel my body starting to burn, a horrible, violent, incineration beginning at my hands and feet. I screamed and screamed as my soul consumed the body as fuel for the transfer, my body slowly disintegrating itself and producing massive amounts of energy as heat, unaffecting the body I was spazming right next to, but evaporating the rain as it fell. This horrible horrible feeling went on for a minute, my screams drowned out by the thunder until the world went cold and my thinking returned to a working state. I opened my eyes for a second, seeing myself covered in ash, my dark hair covering my new face. I fell back to sleep, the dirty suit I wore soaking in the rain as my new body began to change into a more... fitting... state...
About fifty years ago, I was walking down a street somewhere in the nice country on your planet called England. The day was nice for something I got to see, at least, if you don't mind lots of rain and thunder. My body was not what I wanted it to be. Humans at old age aren't very predictable, especially one so changed to inhabit me. It would be nice to have something you know won't give out on you any moment now. I've been alive for a thousand or two years, It would suck to lose most of my memories because I stole a dying man's body. Back to the street; I had been wandering the country for some time trying to find a person who's death wouldn't be too noticeable. Right about that time I did manage to find a perfect host, though. About 6'1", the man had dark brown hair and a generally soft looking face. Better yet, he was homeless! That night, while he was sleeping in an alley I decided to take him. Might as well do it now, I thought, the pain may be worth it this time. I positioned myself (awkwardly, as an old man, kneeling isn't exactly comfortable) over him; slamming his head into the concrete to make sure he was out cold, and setting my watch and my binary "wand" off to the side. I stuck my hand in the man's forced open mouth and began to focus. Focus on leaving. On moving. My mind in his mind. After a minute, the world went grey. I could feel it happening. In that moment, I regretted it, as i fell over and began convulsing uncontrollably. My vision went black. I could feel my body starting to burn, a horrible, violent, incineration beginning at my hands and feet. I screamed and screamed as my soul consumed the body as fuel for the transfer, my body slowly disintegrating itself and producing massive amounts of energy as heat, unaffecting the body I was spazming right next to, but evaporating the rain as it fell. This horrible horrible feeling went on for a minute, my screams drowned out by the thunder until the world went cold and my thinking returned to a working state. I opened my eyes for a second, seeing myself covered in ash, my dark hair covering my new face. I fell back to sleep, the dirty suit I wore soaking in the rain as my new body began to change into a more... fitting... state...
