4338.207 · July 26, 2018 AD
The Men of Bixbus
On Earth, the day began with alarms. Here, it begins with silence that won't explain itself. Glenda's first full morning in Clivilius brings a sleeping man by a cold campfire, a naked man she wasn't expecting, and a muesli bar that tastes like hope. But beneath the awkward laughter and small human moments, something else is taking shape—a question she can't yet answer. Jamie's wounds are healing too fast. Both the decline and the recovery were too swift. What is this world doing to their bodies?
The silence is the first thing she notices. No birds. No traffic. Not even the rustle of leaves. Just emptiness where sound should be.
Paul lies sprawled by the cold campfire, snoring softly. Jamie is up and moving far sooner than expected—which leads to an encounter neither of them was prepared for. The laughter that follows is genuine, a turning point. But when Glenda examines his wounds, something unsettles her. The angry red flush has dulled. The swelling has receded. The skin is knitting at a rate that defies everything she knows about medicine.
The morning continues with muesli bars excavated from disappointing supplies, a cement-laying guide tucked among tins of beans, and Paul accidentally heading toward where Jamie is bathing before pivoting upstream with perfect comedic timing.
Small moments of humanity. Normal fallibility. And beneath it all, a question growing louder: what is Clivilius doing to them?
