Peanuts & Bologna Studios

He’s been speeding for miles now, yet he doesn’t know how far, doesn’t even know what far is. This urgency from those footprints hasn’t let up.
The desert blurs past him in waves of purple-green hues, the horizon an endless shimmer, until…

He spots shapes ahead of him. Just dark against the dunes.

He leans forward, eyes straining behind his goggles, trying to focus. Something not made by sand or stars.

He comes to an abrupt stop as his belt grinds against the grit, sending a soft spray of dust into the air. He squints again and his mind starts to race, trying to categorize what he’s seeing, but there’s nothing… no memory, no knowledge, just instinct.

Still, he can’t look away. He stares, frozen and caught in that in-between space of curiosity and caution.

And while he stands there, locked on the unknown ahead,
the two distant figures behind him grow a little less distant.

No Name was being followed.

No Name presses his hand on the glass, and his pod answers. The belt stirs beneath him, grinding back to life, inching forward as if it, too, has been holding its breath. The pod hums in sync with his mind, faint but alive, like a sleeping animal finally stirred to consciousness. The shapes behind him are still distant, but clearer now. What was once a blur of shadow now carries form with limbs, height, and movement that isn’t just swaying, but deliberate steps. It’s the objects ahead of him that start to look more familiar.

He counts two.

It’s always two.

He swallows hard; mouth dry from the desert air. His breath is steady, but his heart is not. The rhythm inside him now is a pulse that doesn’t come from the belt, or the pod, or even the vibration of far-off footsteps behind him. It’s his. For the first time, he feels the weight of that beat. It pounds through his ribs and up his throat, wild and uneven, but with great certainty. Something is changing.

HE is changing.

As his eyes flick down, he catches the faint reflection in his goggles again. The two broken pods still nestled in front of his vision, lodged into the sand like unspoken questions. There’s something else now. He notices his own reflection. It is slight and warped by the curve of his lens, but unmistakably there. The image startles him. Soon, his thoughts take over. He never had an inner monologue before. Now, he asks himself, “I look like someone. Like something.” No Name stares until the image of himself begins to blur, and more thoughts swim through his brain.

Then he feels loneliness in the realization, a sharp ache he cannot place, but it is quickly wrapped in something warmer. Behind him, the pulse of footsteps is getting louder. But No Name’s heart beats the loudest. It urges him forward, but not to escape– to find out. The belt that holds him up carries on, cutting through the desert’s purple haze, and for the first time ever, he wants to know what lies beyond the horizon.

More to come! Please stay tuned (: