But there is no life on Earth.

[waterfell]

Near the north pole of planet Mercury, there are signs of life, all enclosed in a thin, transparent dome that still allows a clear view of the heavens. Inside, the air is clean and breathable, and even stirs itself in artificial breezes.

The entire city is a mass of blue crystal, luminous with the glow of thousands of solar trees both within and without, their blue cels attached to silvery branches and trunks. It makes a striking contrast, and the structures provide the city's energy, veritable solar power farms, bustling and thriving like the city itself. . Everywhere, the roads lead inward towards a palace, attention drawn to it by its height, taller than any nearby building.

The lush sound of splashing water comes from a clear, ornamental pool in the entryway. Tropical fish swim contentedly there, glimmers of golden koi amid and around the stems of water lilies. There is greenery, too, and flowers provide a seasoning of color. Overhead, the ceiling is dizzyingly high, adding to the sense of open space.

Seated at the edge of the pool, dressed in an elegant gown and with the sigil of her planet showing proudly on her forehead, is the Princess Mercury, now queen of her reborn kingdom. She plays a simple, longing melody on the harp she holds in her lap.

Comments

[waterfell]

"When I see fit." The point is that it's her choice whether she'll be cruel or kind, and to whom. "I don't need lectures to make up my mind."

[isomorphology]

She frowns. "I'm sorry. I just..."

[waterfell]

As so often with Mercury, it's something of an act. She's willing to find other ways.

But so often, that's impossible. Her enemies are not the type who stop, or the type who cause only a little damage.

"You'll understand it when you face the sort of enemy who needs it," she predicts.

[isomorphology]

"Maybe." She says softly. She doubts it. How can the User world be anything like the Grid?

[waterfell]

Easy: If an enemy came, ready to destroy the grid, Quorra would - or at least, should - be ready to defend it with force.

Mercury is no longer the bridge-builder and diplomat she once was, it's true. But that prepared her for what she'd face, from beings from another dimension bent on using humans as nothing but their host bodies, to the incarnations of nightmares and death. There was no peaceful solution.

There was destruction, or battle.

"If you're not ready for that, you'll lose what you want to still have."

[isomorphology]

Quorra stands her ground on her ideals, and in spot to show she won't be just pushed over. The woman must have the thoughts she does for a reason, but she's not about to let that change her mind. She's seen what forcing and pushing does.

"Maybe. I don't think I will."

[waterfell]

She shrugs, unaffected. She's grown tired, over the years, of watching her words come true again and again when they're never listened to.

"You're welcome to march towards it blindfolded," she quips. "Plenty of people have chosen that before you." There's a pause before she softens the words - only slightly.

"I may not have any plans to interfere with your world or harm it," she adds, "However, I also have no reason to benefit it." It's for Quorra to decide whether to take the advice of experience, or make the mistakes that could have been avoided.

[isomorphology]

"Being blindfolded isn't the same as having a more optimistic outcome!" Quorra argues. "There's always the chance that some good will come out of any choice. You just have to believe in it and not stand on the sidelines, or on the side that could hurt people!"

Her eyes narrow just a bit. "What does that have to do with anything?"

[waterfell]

"It's why you're free to make your choice." If she had an interest in Quorra's world, she'd try harder to be convincing, or at least work to the end result she believed would lead to its best outcome. "I have no reason to want better for you."

"This world is enough for me."

[isomorphology]

But, she's judging her. Quorra can tell by just the tone of her voice. She thinks Quorra's a child. She's not a child. Maybe she's naive on somethings, but...

"Why would you even mention mine?"

[waterfell]

Isn't it self-evident? "Because that's the one you'll wake up in."

What Quorra does will impact that world, not Mercury's.

[isomorphology]

She makes a face. Dreaming is still so odd to her. "Then you can't really do anything to it anyways."

[waterfell]

Oh, but the very existence of the dream world means otherwise. Thoughts, ideas, decisions; all of those are what a world's fate is truly made of - if the dreamer has the power and will to direct it. Mercury remains contented.

"The computer room," she says, and leads the way inside, deeper into the castle of crystal, towards it.

[isomorphology]

Quorra narrows her eyes slightly but she listens and follows. If it comes down to it, she'd protect her world. Part of her doesn't want to believe the woman beside her would fight just to fight, but...

Her eyes widen at the sight of the room. Her mouth opens slightly. "Oh..."

[waterfell]

Oh, but she would.... have done so several years ago. Now, her battles are confined to the ones that matter: her enemies, and the threats to her world.

The room they enter is large, vast, and empty save for the computer system and viewing screen that take up the entire enormous far wall. It's impressive by any standards of her world, and it has the computing power to match its striking size and grandeur.

She smiles, clearly pleased. "It's worth admiring. It's the result of a great many centuries of development."

[isomorphology]

Quorra walks straight to the screen, looking up at it. She has never seen anything like it. There was the screens in the Grid, but nothing like what she was staring at now. It's what the Grid looks like on the User's side of the screen. Isn't it?

"Centuries?"

[waterfell]

Centuries.

"It's been hundreds of years since humans lived on Earth." This prosperity in this new kingdom wasn't the work of a day. Seeing the ones close to her grow old while she stayed like this, a face no more lined than a young woman in her twenties, had been a price to pay.

[isomorphology]

"I'm in the future." Quorra says to herself. More of a confirmation than anything. The future in a dream. How is that even possible?

[waterfell]

"That's right," Mercury confirms the guess, though the only explanation she has for its possibility is: the dream.

"This is not the time we met in last time. We're nearing the thirtieth century."

[isomorphology]

She still doesn't understand the dreaming concept in full detail. "30th..."

[waterfell]

Mercury fills in the rather mind-boggling blank. "Approximately a thousand years from your time."

[isomorphology]

Quorra just shakes her head. Users don't live that long. Would ISOs? Years and cycles are different from each other.

"You lived that entire time?"

[waterfell]

Very good, Quorra. Though she was born to one, and lived as one for much of her childhood, she is not human.

"I lived all those centuries." The emptiness of the vast palace seems to shout that not everyone did.

[isomorphology]

"...How?"

[waterfell]

"There's nothing unusual in it for me." She doesn't know how to explain it better than that. Her body is different, perhaps no longer purely from that immortal race of the moon kingdom, but nonetheless possessing a great lifespan far beyond what mortals of her world dream of - or Quorra's world.