The Legacy of Reyaleean Dira

Another day in the lab. Reya looks down at her blueprint, cross-referencing with sketches sprawled across the table, searching for any final imperfections that have slipped past her notice thus far. Working hard…

But on what?

She lifts her head and inhales sharply at the slight stiffness in her neck. Her posture could use some work, she knows, but her work requires utmost attention –- if it’s at the sacrifice of some discomfort in her back, so be it.

She stares blankly at her work station, having churned out so many robots and prototypes recently that they’ve begun to blur together. This particular creation is designed to identify and remove crop pests from the farmland on the colony. Yes, that’s what it was. She remembers now.

In the corner, Valytrix stands guard, sitting happily with her pile of stamps. Gentle flickers of flame from Val’s mouth tickle the air as she exhales excitedly, sifting through the comparatively miniscule rectangles of paper. With almost comical precision, her massive claws carefully pick up one of the stamps and raise it to her face. She squints, considering the image, this one a shot of the Cartographers’ Guild space station.

Satisfied, Val lets loose another small gust of flame, accidentally incinerating the stamp she was observing. Her contentedness melts off her face, replaced with anguish and sadness as she begins groaning and moaning, grieving the loss of her treasure.

Walking over, Reya places a claw on Val’s side. “Shhhhhh, don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ll get you another one.”

The promise of another stamp seems to quell Valytrix’s mourning, and she slowly calms down, curling up on a bed of her stamps like a dragon and her treasure trove.

Sitting back down in her chair, Reya continues her review of your designs. Occasionally, she finds a mistake or two and jots down a note on her blueprint in pencil. It’s deep into the night by the time she finishes scrutinizing her work. Standing up, she stretches and yawns, glancing at Val who’s still content and asleep in the corner.

Silently, she switches off the lights, slipping out into the darkness and back to her room for a night’s sleep before bringing another prototype to life tomorrow.

Before she knows it, day breaks, and Reya wakes up early, scarfing down a simple breakfast before heading to work. As she arrives at the entrance to your workshop, she finds it blocked. Valytrix towers over her, denying her entrance to her sanctum. “Hey, Val. What’s up?”

Val grunts in response, staring at Reya.

“Can you let me in, Val?”

She shakes her head no softly, refusing to move.

“Why not?”

In response, she extends her claw, revealing several stamps, reminding Reya of her promise yesterday. I’ll get you another one.

“Really, Val? Could you let me in and prepare for the day first?”

Val obstinately shakes her head again, sticking out her claw expectantly. Sighing, Reya fishes in her pockets, digging out another stamp of the Guild station and passing it to Val. Satisfied, she moves aside and finally Reya enters her workshop again.

The next tens of kiloseconds pass in a blur as she assembles her prototype, adhering to her blueprint’s specifications. It’s a skill she’s honed with years of practice and experience, becoming almost second nature. As she tightens the final screw, she carefully picks up her invention and inspects them up close. Her robots have grown more and more organic over time, their hard metallic skeletons hidden from sight, and this one is no exception. Nodding her head in approval, Reya walks outside her workshop, gently lowering her newest creation onto the floor. They tumble into the grass before righting themselves and scanning their surroundings. Looking back at Reya, they tilt their head slightly, recognizing their creator for a moment before scampering off, joining the dozens of other robots roaming the colony.

As Reya watches them frolic away in the fields, she seems to cheer up, sharing in her robot's joy. The sun shines overhead and she looks around at the flowers blooming as the colony bustles around her. Do-Loris would have loved it.

Her smile fades from her face as she turns back into her workshop and unfurls another sheet of paper to sketch her next design. Onto the next.

It is said that there once lived a genius inventor by the name of Ray, whose skill and prowess rivalled Arc the Builder herself. With her bare claws, she could weave the rays of the distant stars and the smell of the wildflowers into animals indistinguishable to any other.

Ray would breathe life into her mechanical creatures, wondrous things that would jump and sing and chirp, just like any living thing would. One that could leap its height twentyfold, one that could fly as high as the stars above. People from all around would come marvel at her inventions, who were always in the mood to play with the visitors.

But there came a day when Ray became unhappy. “All this talent, but nothing to show for it,” she said to herself. As she paced her workshop, a flash of inspiration struck her. “I have it!” she said. “I will build a dragon.”

And thus began her plans to build a dragon larger than anyone had seen before, with ferocious teeth and scaly wings. But first, she built a cage, a cage forged from the strongest metals she could find, a humongous cage as large as any dragon, a sturdy cage to house a beast. And only once the cage was finished did she begin her work.

And oh! How she worked. Day and night without rest, the light of her workshop shone through the night and burned through the day. Not a glimpse of her was spotted by the townspeople for days and days on end as Ray forged and hammered away until finally, at long last, her work was complete.

“And now, I have invented a dragon, the greatest animal of all,” Ray proclaimed proudly. But as the dragon came to life, she did not dance and sing like Ray’s other creations had. She roared and slammed against the cage, frightening Ray. What ferocious claws, what scaly wings that battled and scraped and thrashed against the hard, metal bars of the cage.

How Ray cowered in the face of her own creation! How the dragon raged! For what seemed like an eternity did the dragon struggle until finally she seemed to tire and retreated to the far corner of her confines.

Ray watched as the dragon curled up into a ball, her eyes following Ray as she gingerly approached the cage. Ray heard the exhale of the dragon as she took another step closer, and another. And though the dragon was large, far larger than her, she saw at the same time how the dragon looked so small. And she saw what an ugly cage it was.

Slowly, uncertainly, Ray picked up the key to the cage and fitted it into the lock. With a turn, the cage door slowly swung open. Ray tensed, bracing for the worst, but the dragon did not leap at her. Ray reached out a claw, and like so many of her creations had before, the dragon extended her head, letting Ray stroke her scaled skin.

Together, the pair stepped out of Ray’s workshop. “Listen,” Ray proclaimed to the townsfolk, who gathered and gaped at her newest invention, “and repeat not my mistakes! For our creations were never meant to be caged, and our talents never meant to be used for malfeasance.”

The townsfolk watched as Ray the Inventor hoisted herself onto her dragon’s back. And together, they rode off into the night sky.

A message received from out in the void of space, lost. It never reached its intended recipient:

[SIGNAL RECEIVED]
[ATTEMPTING DECRYPTION]
…
[ERROR: TRANSMISSION CORRUPTION]
[ATTEMPTING RECOVERY]
…
[RECOVERY FAILURE]
[ATTEMPTING RECOVERY]
…
[RECOVERY FAILURE]
[ATTEMPTING RECOVERY]
…
[RECOVERY PARTIAL SUCCESS]

In the message is a series of documents, photographs and videos, timestamped with various times over the course of many years. A few handfuls of them are corrupted beyond recognition, others slightly warped with noisy artefacts. Many remain intact. They seem to document the same group of individuals: a Rissi and a small group of robots. Among the many robots, three seem to recur as the most documented, one a small ferret-like critter, another a monstrous draconic behemoth, the last a shimmering feline. Many of the photos are taken in a workshop like setting, while others are much more domestic.

There are many pictures of flowers and small critters, each taken with focus and care. Others are blurry and chaotic, as though the photographer was bouncing around and running through the world. Much rarer are the ones taken from eye-level, frequently depicting the robots: the cat sleeping on a windowsill under pale afternoon light; the dragon carefully organising comically small stamps in a notebook; the ferret covered in small stamps evading the dragon, who appears to be roaring in their direction.

Among the photos is one of the Rissi in a messy lab coat fighting with an electric mixer. Another taken just a few kilo-seconds after is of a burnt cake, covered with what appear to be many dozen candles. This photo in particular appears to have been taken outside during the night, darkness swallowing the frame. It looks like a small campsite, but there is only one tent. The Rissi appears to be shedding a few tears, her gaze pointed to the stars above, glistening in the distance. They burn cold against the candlelight.

Towards the end of the files, there are two seemingly more notable files, one a video, and another a short text file.

The video shows the Rissi sitting at a small table. The room around her looks well lived in, but the blinds are closed. Several knickknacks line the shelves, small gadgets or metallic art pieces. There are piles of papers and blueprint tubes further behind, tucked away in the corner. The Rissi hangs her head, staring dejectedly at the surface in front of her, the small feline creature standing silently in front of them. The camera feed is a little shaky at times, and the perspective feels off, being so close to the surface. It darts back and forth between the two of them in small jolts. Eventually the silence is broken.

“This has gone on for too long, Reya… You need to go outside. I’ve tolerated this for a while, but this is just too much. It’s not healthy,” the creature says.

The Rissi, Reya, releases a shaky sigh, her claws shaking.

“I know Silho, I know that I just… I can’t….” She breaks off, her voice tremoring.

“Hey, it’s ok to hold onto your memories of them in the past, but you can’t let that keep you from moving into the future. It would do you good to meet new people.”

Reya’s voice grows a sharp edge, as she snaps, “What, so I can lose them all over again!”

“It won’t be like before.” Silho’s voice is meditated and calm, though decisive. “You’ll never even know if you don’t give it another try.”

The camera field begins to shake wildly as the perspective begins to move, dashing towards the table. There are small chitters and purrs, very loud in the video, as the camera appears to cuddle up to Reya. The camera’s feed is smothered in a hug.

“Fine… fine… tomorrow.”

Silho sighs in the background. The video cuts off.

At the end of it all, the text file reads:

To Do-Loris, wherever you are, thank you for everything. I hope you are ok. – Reya

Written by Callum L.