The Beginning

The sun burned down upon the land, baking anything and everything in its path. The earth was dry, caked, and pale, cracking in some places, with some sparsely lain plants, mainly cacti and lonely brown and green bushes. For miles, the eye could only spot flat earth, seemingly endless plains of the desert, neverending and lonely. In this, there was an anomaly.

𝆕 "Round and round,

The mulberry bush,

The Monkey chased the weasel,

The Monkey stopped to pull up his sock,

And then,

POP went the Weasel!" 𝆕

A young man strolled through the desert, repeating a nursery rhyme over and over again as he relaxedly made his way by. A faint smile graced his pale lips, leaving those to see it with a kind impression, almost like a father to his child. His hair was blonde, short but long enough to wave in the wind, when such breezes happened to rarely pass by. His face could only be described as kind, and even the aura he gave off left one with undertones of fatherly grace. He was tall, noticeably, and disproportionately thin, though his overall shape was muscular enough to be considered lean.

He brought no supplies with him, simply a white shirt and a black belt that held up a worn pair of trousers, all covered slightly by what looked to be a white lab coat. Curiously, he did not seem tired, nor did any sweat adorn his brow, as if he had just been taking a casual stroll through a city, as impossible as it sounded. He didn't seem to be paying attention to anything in particular either, as if he wasn't even in such an unforgiving place.

"Ah!"

Suddenly, he stopped. Then, he took a deep breath, spinning in a circle with his palms raised to the sky. He flashed his teeth.

"This! This right here will do quite well," he exclaimed. "It's just the perfect spot!"

With that said, the man sat down with his legs crossed. Nothing in particular seemed different here than in any other place in the desert. The plants were the same, and the ground wasn't any more forgiving to lay on, but he seemed rather satisfied. He crossed his legs, and held his hands to his knees, breathing slowly, in and out, almost as if meditating.

—-

Hours passed, and the harsh sun of the day gave way to the better cold of the night. The desert seemed to come to life with noise. Animals and insects, along with creatures that hid in the shadows came to hunt, to feed, and fill their needs.

Strangely, the man kept quiet. He simply held the same position, unnaturally still. It seemed as if he had died, no breath left his lips, no movement in his chest, no twitch of his limbs. And within ten feet, the desert mimicked him, silent, and still.

Despite the liveliness around him, not a single creature, animal or otherwise, got within those ten feet, as if it didn't exist. In fact, it didn't seem to at all, with creatures walking toward the man only to vanish as they got within his range, and appearing on the other side.

Not a single animal seemed to notice either, with the circle of life simply happening around him. Animals hunted, bugs skittered across the ground, and even the occasional bird could be seen.

And so the night passed by.

As dawn approached, the man opened his eyes and stretched.

"Ahhh, that was fulfilling. Huh?" He looked around, confused. "Where am I?"

He blinked, and the light of recognition flooded his eyes, followed by a smile taking over his lips. He took a deep breath.

"Yes, this place will do nicely!" He grinned and then frowned. "I guess I can do some prep work while I wait."

With a stretch, the man stood, and he once again took in his surroundings. From any normal eye, this place looked desolate and uninviting. Who knew what this man saw about it that pleased him. Regardless, he got to work, rolling back the sleeves of his lab coat and proceeding to start clearing the area within one hundred feet of where he had slept.

Anything in the area was swept clean by his hands and formed into a small pile at the southernmost edge. Cacti, tumbleweeds, the occasional agave, nothing was spared. As he worked, yet another curious rhyme spilled from his lips.

𝆕 "London Bridge is falling down,

Falling down,

Falling down,

London Bridge is falling down,

My fair lady." 𝆕

A couple of hours went by, with the man toiling away. At around noon, when the sun hit the middle of the sky, the man sat down and rested for a short while. The work wasn't easy, it was manual labor, plain and simple. Curiously, though this man looked nothing of a worker, and more a scholar, he dripped not a single drop of sweat, nor showed any real sign of exhaustion. He simply rested in the same position he had slept, and after around a half hour, just as the sun began its descent, he resumed.

This time, after he finished what was left within one hundred feet, he went to clear out fifty feet beyond. The pile grew larger, not over ten feet tall but nearly ten feet around, creating a nice way for someone to spot, or more accurately, creating a strange sight for all those that approached, though not another soul could be seen.

While the man had been resting for lunch, he had not eaten, but he didn't show any signs of hunger, nor did his stomach growl. It appeared he had no need for food or water, perhaps an explanation as to why he had no supplies. No speck of dust adorned his outfit either, besides his toiling away throughout the day. If one were to sniff nearby, he didn't even appear to smell.

As the man finished his work, he dropped the last of the plants onto his pile, just as a black speck in the distance made itself clear. He looked towards it and smiled, and shortly thereafter the speck changed direction and made a beeline for him. Soon the black dot grew, and a voice could be heard.

"Silver! Doctor Silver!"