Chapter 18 – Why We Press On

The hideout was silent, bathed in the soft blue light of Arka’s systems, the quiet hum a soothing balm against the ever-present tension of the Abyss. Luna and Yuri were asleep, curled up together like kittens, their faces peaceful, relaxed. I envied their untroubled slumber. Sleep, for me, was a restless affair, haunted by fleeting images of Alice, her voice echoing in the darkness, accusing, questioning.

I rose quietly, careful not to disturb them, and slipped out of the hideout, needing a moment of solitude, a breath of fresh air, a chance to clear my head.

The night air was cool, the forest still and silent, the trees swaying gently in the breeze, their leaves whispering secrets into the darkness. The only other sound was the faint rustling of unseen creatures in the undergrowth, a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked just beyond the reach of the light.

I stretched, taking deep breaths, trying to clear my head, to quiet the restless thoughts that plagued me.

A faint metallic sound reached my ears, a rhythmic clicking, coming from somewhere nearby. I followed the sound, moving cautiously through the trees, until I saw her. Arka.

She stood at the edge of the clearing, her gaze fixed on the forest, her metallic form shimmering faintly in the dim light.

“Noah,” she said, turning as I approached, her blue eyes meeting mine. “You’re awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I admitted. “Needed some fresh air. What are you doing out here?”

“I am… a machine. I do not require sleep. I was… observing.”

“Observing? What is there to observe at this hour?”

“The Abyss,” she said simply. “It is always… unpredictable.”

“Right.” I stood beside her, looking out at the forest, the shadows deep and impenetrable. “You’re always so… vigilant, Arka. Doesn’t it ever… tire you?”

“Vigilance is… a function. But you… you are not a machine. You require rest.”

“Rest…” I sighed. “Easier said than done. Knowing what we have to face tomorrow…”

“That… is the human condition,” Arka said, her voice soft, almost… wistful. “A weakness, perhaps. But also… a strength.”

The cool night air brushed against my face, the leaves rustling softly, the faint blue light reflecting off Arka’s metallic skin, giving her an almost ethereal glow.

“You spend a lot of time alone, Arka,” I said. “Doesn’t it ever get… lonely?”

“Loneliness… is not a function,” she replied. “But…” She paused, her gaze fixed on the forest. “There is a… peace. A serenity. When I am with Luna. I would not… relinquish that.”

Relinquish… an unexpected word from an android.

“Luna is… special to you, then?”

“Yes. She… she gives my existence… purpose. Without her… I would be merely… a tool. Fulfilling a function.” There was a warmth in her voice, an affection that transcended her programming.
Had her creators intended this? Or was it something… more? An emergent property of her consciousness? An adaptation to the Abyss itself?

“What do you… want for her, Arka?” I asked. “You don’t intend to keep her here… in the Abyss… forever, do you?”

Arka seemed to sigh, a soft, almost imperceptible release of air from her vents. “No. I do not. The Abyss… it has shaped her. Strengthened her. But it also… confines her. I want… more for her. A wider world. A brighter future.”

She’s right. Luna deserves more than this. To keep her here, trapped in this endless darkness… that would be a cruelty equal to anything the Abyss itself could inflict.

“Come with us, Arka,” I said, my voice filled with a sudden conviction. “We’ll reach the bottom. We’ll find a way out. And then… you can take Luna to the surface. Give her the life she deserves.”

Arka looked at me, her blue eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions I couldn’t quite decipher.

“Your offer… is appreciated, Noah,” she said, her voice hesitant. “But I… I cannot guarantee… I will be able to… accompany you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am… bound to this place. My programming, my directive… it is intertwined with the Abyss. My purpose is to understand… but I do not know… what will become of me… when I do.” Her voice was low, almost… mournful. “But you… you must escape. You and Yuri. And Luna… she must have a chance… at a different life.”

“We’ll figure it out, Arka,” I said, my voice firm. “We’ll go together. You, Luna, Yuri, and me. You deserve to see the world above, too. All of you.”

Arka didn’t answer, her gaze returning to the forest.

“I… hope so,” she whispered.

We stood in silence, the quiet hum of the forest the only sound, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

“Noah,” Arka said, breaking the silence, “do you believe… in heaven?”

“Heaven?” I echoed, surprised by the question. “You mean… like… the afterlife?”

“Yes.”

“I… I don’t think so,” I admitted.

“That is… unusual,” she said. “Humans… they are often preoccupied with… what comes after. The fear of death… it fuels their… faith.”

“Maybe. But I find… it’s easier… not to believe.”
If there was a heaven, a god… then why Alice? Why let her be taken, erased from existence?
If our fate was in the hands of some indifferent deity, then what was the point of anything?

“I believe,” Arka said quietly, her gaze still fixed on the forest. “I have seen… many explorers… succumb to the Abyss. Some… accepted their fate. Others… they prayed. To their gods. For salvation. For… something… beyond.”

“But that doesn’t mean it exists, Arka. It’s just… hope. Faith.”

“Hope. Faith. Perhaps… that is what creates it. Even in the face of oblivion… humans… they remember. They love. They leave their mark.” She paused, her blue eyes glowing faintly. “That… is more than just survival instinct, Noah. It is… something more.”

“And perhaps,” she continued, her voice soft, almost… wistful, “that is what heaven is. The culmination of memories. Of love. A place… beyond this world. Created by… the very act of remembering.”

“Memories. Love.” Strange words in this place of death and despair.

“But that’s just… a metaphor, isn’t it?” I said. “We live on in the memories of those we leave behind. That’s our… afterlife.”

“Perhaps. But I do not think… it is so simple. I have seen… things here, Noah. In the Abyss. Time… space… it is not… fixed. There are… other dimensions. Beyond human comprehension.”

“Time and space… not fixed…” I thought of the strange distortions we’d encountered, the shifting gravity, the unpredictable nature of the Abyss. Perhaps time itself flowed differently here.
What if we spent a month in the Abyss, and years passed in the world above?

Arka turned to me, her blue eyes searching mine. “Do not dismiss the possibility, Noah. Humans… they are a testament to… impossible possibilities.”

“You’re quite the philosopher, Arka,” I said, surprised by her words.

“Perhaps,” she said, a faint smile touching her lips. “If heaven exists, Noah, it is simply… another form of reality.”

Her words resonated with me, a strange comfort in their unexpected wisdom.

“So… human existence… it’s not just about… this life?”

“Humans… they live such a short time,” Arka said softly. “Yet they leave… such a profound mark. Love. Memory. Hope. These things… they transcend… mere existence.”

“That’s… a beautiful thought, Arka.” Her words had stirred something within me, a sense of… hope?

“Not a thought, Noah. An observation. The Abyss… it tests the human spirit. Those who venture here… they leave more than just footprints. They leave… a legacy. A testament to… the enduring power… of the human heart.”

Her words struck a chord within me. We were here, in this impossible place, surviving, enduring, leaving our own mark on the Abyss.

“So it’s about… how we live, then?” I said. “Here, and now. And… what we leave behind.”

“Yes. The greatest power humans possess… is the power to choose. To remember. To love. And perhaps… to create… something… that transcends… even death.”

“That’s… quite hopeful, Arka,” Yuri said, joining us, Luna bouncing excitedly beside her. “For an android, in the Abyss.”

“Hope,” Arka said, her gaze meeting Yuri’s, “is a uniquely human attribute. And it is a power… that even the Abyss… cannot extinguish.”

She turned back to the forest, her voice soft, yet firm. “Hope… is a choice, Noah. Even in the face of… impossible odds.”

Hope. A word that had felt so distant, so unattainable, since Alice… since that day. The memory of her vanishing, of my reaching out, my fingers brushing against empty air, the crushing weight of loss, of failure… it had almost extinguished the very idea of hope. But Arka’s words… they were like a small crack in the darkness, a sliver of light, a possibility…

“The Abyss is not simply a place of survival, Noah,” Arka said, her voice gentle. “It is a place of… self-discovery. Of… possibility. What you find here… is entirely up to you.”

What I find…
Her words hinted at something more, something beyond mere survival.

“What if…” I whispered, the thought barely forming in my mind. “…what if there’s something… more… at the end of the Abyss? Something we can’t even imagine?”

“That, Noah,” Arka said, her blue eyes shining with a light that I now recognized as… hope, “is the power of human imagination. The power of belief. The power… of hope.”

The end of the Abyss. I hadn’t come here just to survive. I’d come here for Alice, believing that the Abyss, the place that had taken her, might also hold the key to… something more.

“The Abyss does not erase, Noah,” Arka said, her voice soft, yet filled with conviction. “It… preserves. It remembers.”

A sudden thought, a spark of hope, ignited within me, a possibility I hadn’t dared to consider.
What if… what if Alice wasn’t truly gone? What if… a trace of her remained? A possibility… a chance…

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding. This hope… it was fragile, a delicate flame in the darkness, easily extinguished. But it was there. And in the Abyss, even the smallest spark of hope could be enough to keep you going.

A chance to find her. A chance to see her again.
Perhaps… perhaps she was waiting for me, at the end of the Abyss.

“Hope is a powerful force, Noah,” Arka said, her voice gentle. “Without it… humans… would not be… human.”

“You’re right,” Yuri said, her voice soft. “Without hope… we wouldn’t have made it this far.”

And if that hope was for Alice… then I wouldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever.