So too shines bright the joyous day. So too shines the light over the frigid alpine.

  The year is 2112. It is the present.

  A small woman dressed in black visits a statue. She finds herself surrounded in the serenity of untouched nature.

  Untouched, for all except the statue she has come to visit.

  The woman is short. Her cloak obscures all but her mouth. And all around her, the high peaks of the mountainous valley rise tall.

  Tall, yet not as tall as someone she once knew.

  She takes a seat on a nearby rock; gray and boulderish it is.

  The winds pass her by like the subtle breeze of the shoreline. The great, vibrant greens of the valley compliment the white snow on top of the snow-capped mountains. Mountains which form this valley, high into the sky. Mountains which shield the statue from prying eyes.

  She opens her digiphone to check on how others have been. She has left doing so for a while; ever since she decided to come here. To find this sanctuary among the hills. Among bastions.

  She sees that Louis has gotten back from his trip to Transylvania. He is doing well for himself as he approaches his golden years.

  She sees that Delta has taken another orphan under her care.

  Oh, how she wises someone did the same for her. And how sure she is; how Delta likely wishes the same.

  Proteus has been laying at rest for some times now at the Quebec Private Reserve Cemetery. She checks their page, and is saddened to see that Gilbert has gone there too. Not to rest, fortunately. He is there to pay respect for some of the Arch Legion’s veteran fallen. Even then, at the same time, she can’t help but feel bad for Cerberus too. Poor man.

  Ahh, the Arch Legion. You don’t hear that much about it these days.

  And perhaps that is for the better. She has pushed those days as far behind herself as any traumatized person can.

  It is never something you can forget. But you can come to terms with it, and make peace. And she tries to. Every single day. She tries to, but… lets see what else people are up to.

  Crosby’s congregation has been steadily increasing for years.

  The New Cannonites, they’re called!

  It looks like they’ve recently celebrated the opening of a new church in State Superior! She hopes it doesn’t burn like the last one. Religion is still a touchy subject these days.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  As are Biohybrid rights. Calling them Furries is bigotry now.

  As are the Augmentia. Calling them Cyborgs is also intolerant.

  Perhaps, the world is less peaceful than even she is. This world she helped usher, one way or another. Once upon a time, she felt like things never changed. Perhaps the problem is they change too much.

  She sees the new media headlines come to her over the Aethernet on her digiphone. That Vapid Software stock is soaring. That PublicPTL and Vapid Software are soaring. That fundamental rights are being deeply, deeply repressed by society, or the state. And maybe they are. After all, everyone needs an enemy. She even reads that the sky is falling. But as she looks up into it; that deep, blue, crystal clear sky… she sees that it isn’t.

  But then… her gaze falls. And it keeps falling. And falling. Until she can’t stop herself from looking at it. The thing she brought herself here for.

  As the woman sat on this rock, in the middle of the bellicose of the Swiss alps… she sees him. As a humble statue.

  What she saw was the body of the great Gauth Van Hulsieg, chiseled not into marble, but humble, lowly rock. The man who once brought the world to its brink. The man who could not stop the downfall of his own empire. Because you cannot stop fate. You cannot stop what wants to happen. You may only delay it.

  And, as she spectates the statue, she notices his pose. His expression. He stands with one foot upon what used to be the old SERaMACs logo. He stands, with his fist raised— rising proud. Like a mascot for all of humanity.

  Because that is all he ever was. Human, she realizes. And so, she looks back down to her digiphone. She ignores the headlines for now, and instead… she goes to find those old stories he wrote her. Or maybe they weren’t for her specifically. She doesn’t know. While he did write them for her, they don’t read like they were.

  She reads about fantasy. About entropy. About our pursuits. They just… they still don’t make sense for her. She looks back upon the statue of Gauth Van Hulsieg for a moment. It’s craftsmanship, weathered by what was once inclement weather. It doesn’t look grand. It looks rushed. It looks humble. It looks… it looks…

  She can’t quite figure it out. Like a cat got her tongue. And so she looks back to her digiphone for the last time today.

  She sees nothing of note from those she cares about.

  More articles pop up about impending doom. About all the issues of the world— issues solely made of our own feeble misguidedness.

  From those in power, and from those without.

  She looks at her digiphone. She turns it off. As the screen goes black, she looks up her last. She sees the frigid valley that is this green oases within paradise. The lush green grass swaying in the gentle breeze. The deep, rich, turquoise sky that is soon to be unlocked as their final front yet.

  It is still beautiful as it is. But what isn’t... is Gauth Van Hulsieg.

  Or at least, this last remnant of his broken legacy.

  She looks upon it for a while; just before her digiphone vibrates again. She checks it, and sees something about— well.

  She doesn’t care. She logs off. She takes a glimpse of the statue as she leaves it here, behind. One last time.

  At the statue that gave her everything.

  At the man... who never cried.

  A man… who now withers.

  In the sunlight.