Dream d3123-s: The Dimming and Return

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where the outer terrace of Vespermoss lay beneath a sky that could not hold its own light.

We had been here before - once, and the record carried that visit in its columns, a single line of witnessed observation. Now the terrace received us again, its iron armatures webbed with old lichen, its lip worn to a pale edge by weather that left no date.

The Anomaly-Hand crouched at the eastern seam and held still. The pale cyan ran along the joint where the surveyed foundation met the older substrata below, and it ran steadily until the first cloud crossed the sun. Then it faded - not suddenly, but in the manner of a drawn breath held too long - and the seam became indistinguishable from the surrounding rock. The Bedrock-Reader noted the time.

Lano sat beside the seam with her nose working the air above it. When the light left, she shifted forward, touched the cold edge of the joint with her muzzle, and pulled back. She did not bark. She waited beside me.

The Warden of the Deep Stratum stood at the railing and looked down into the open shaft the terrace had been built to overlook. Nothing moved in the shaft. The machinery there had been still since our first visit and remained still now. The Warden made no entry and offered no interpretation. The Tally-Reader counted the armatures visible from the terrace edge - twelve - and recorded the count.

Rurik had taken the highest point of the iron railing and sat facing the shaft, tail curled around his feet. When a second cloud crossed, heavier and slower, he turned his head and stared at the seam.

The cyan returned.

It came back beneath the heavier overcast, more visible against the reduced ambient light, tracing the joint for its full measured length while the Horizon-Surveyor stepped the distance with a rod. The Relic-Watcher did not touch the armatures but stood close enough to observe the alignment where one brace met the terrace floor. Whatever the brace was for, it had been placed with attention.

The Anomaly-Hand drew the seam's outline on the notation sheet. I held the sheet flat against the wind. Lano pressed against my leg while I worked. She said nothing, only - once, very quietly - "aquí," and I chose to accept that.

Rurik blinked once at the seam, slow and deliberate. Then he lay down on the railing, feet tucked under, amber eyes half-closed against the returning grey.

We carried the outgoing account forward. Vespermoss had been visited once; it had now been visited twice. The seam had returned. The shaft had not moved. The Tally-Reader closed the count at twelve armatures, unchanged.

IMAGE PROMPT: pixel art a human surveyor at a outer terrace, A pale cyan seam fades as clouds cross the sun, then returns beneath heavier cloud., desaturated slate and iron, pale cyan accents, 8-bit style

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