2 The Ballad Of Brendon Watson

"Did you leave someone behind when you came here?" Brendon didn't quite yell the words, but he did have to raise his voice to be heard over the footfalls of the feisty floral Glass.

"Sadly, I was born an orphan. In space. And my mother died in childbirth. And I was raised by golems."

Brendon sat up on Glass's back and turned to raise an eyebrow at Tsu, who was grinning madly.

"Yes, there is someone who I would very much like to see again."

"One of the perks- actually, no. The only perk of being a first generational, or someone not born of this world, is that you get a special ability. It may not be godlike but if you learn how to use it well it should in turn serve you quite well. You'll start learning to use yours quite soon I'd imagine. Mine lets me create a photo of someone, as long as I know their first and last name. Would you like me to show you?"

"I think I'd like that very much."

"Who would you like photographed?"

"Nitrogen Bismarck."

The man closed his eyes, layed farther forward on Glass's back, and reached into the pouch hanging from Glass's side. After a moment, he unceremoniously pulled out a white piece of film, still developing. As the image contained within the walls of the film came into view, Nitrogen's features became evident. The picture only showed her body from the waist up, but he could tell she was wearing funeral attire. Her body was limp and lifeless, and she seemed to be struggling to keep her dampened eyes open.

"If you do well enough, you may be allowed to return."

Tsu immediately came back to his senses. "How? Has it happened before? Will it turn back time? Will I be in trouble with the authorities?" He spoke breathlessly, tripping over himself to finish each sentence.

"Calm down. Out of the thousands of first generationals, I've heard of only one pair who were allowed to return. I actually knew them myself. I fought with them in the war against the smiths."

Tsu waited for Brendon to continue with his story. He obliged.

"The Smiths were the dominant species when generationals first started appearing. Back in those days, Smiths were the ones who were most likely to pick humans up from the desert. It is almost impossible to describe what the smiths looked like in their native form. They were metallic, and copper colored, but darker. They absorbed so much light that they could make a well lit room appear dim. It wasn't long before the Smiths learned about a unique trait of theirs. They could mold their body to the shape of whomever they were touching, instantly. However, they lacked the ability to change back. In their native form, they did not age, but as transformed humans they did. This forced them to continuously switch between different bodies and their current body grew. This also wreaked havoc on the different systems that the First Generationals were trying to put into place: The seed money system, free housing, and the hundred percent crime system. For example, the bank in New Cambridge records the face of everyone who comes to collect seed money, and distributes the photo to the banks in the other five cities. However, what if a Smith were to take your body, and collect your seed money? You wouldn't be able to prove that you had never gotten your seed money, and you would be short a bit of starting capital. Eventually, the quartermaster of America-"

"Can I cut in for a quick question?" Tsu interrupted.

"You have my invitation." Brendon warmly responded.

"What are the quartermasters I keep hearing about?"

"Well, we didn't want to create a government like that which existed in either the States or England. We wanted to create a less powerful organization whose sole purpose was to protect the people. The quartermaster isn't allowed to levy taxes, or draft an army. All of his funding comes from donations. His main job is to maintain a healthy trade relationship with the other cities, and to provide enough housing for the inhabitants of his town. Right now, we have more than enough housing, because as I was about to tell you, the quartermaster of America, a harbor town to the north of here, asked for my help in gathering an army to eradicate the Smiths."

"Eradicate, like a disease? I thought they were an intelligent species?"

"We were young, dumb and eager for glory. We saw a nuisance, and wanted to rid ourselves of it. The Anti First clan is doing the same to us. As they say, what goes around comes around. We began by recruiting other First Gens, as well as some of the Smiths who were susceptible to bribery. Two people we couldn't convince were Mary and Kevin Shelly. They ended up fighting alongside the Smiths as they tried to escape from Yanqui. And I call it a war, but it was a massacre. Only a few dozen humans died. Meanwhile, we killed thirteen thousand smiths."

Tsu was left speechless. The two rode in silence for a while, Brendon allowing Tsu to quietly consume the information in his mind. Eventually, Brendon continued.

"The Shellys help a few hundred smiths escape the continent. The game master thanked them for their kindness, and offered to send them back to their own world. And, of course, they accepted."

"That's a pretty dark tale."

"Yes, but what moral you take away from it is up to you."

The landscape began to grow green, more vegitative. They passed by farms and farmhouses, fields and meadows. Eventually, Tsu was able to see New Cambridge, not that far off in the distance. The dimly lit streets and the smell of freshly baked pastries seemed to welcome him.

"It may look friendly from the outside," Brendon warned, "but if you drop your identity, this place will turn into a living hell."

Tsu swallowed the throbbing lump in his throat, with quite a bit of difficulty. Main street beckoned, and Glass pursued.