ITHOE: Bastions of the universe

I have lived eras, seen eons, and borne witness to the passage of millennia and for it I have gained wisdom and experience worth a million lifetimes.

For all that time, for my eternity, I have served, but the end of my service was here at last. It was time to pass on the mantle.

Who could be worthy though? Who would wield these powers with the severe responsibility they deserved?

I sent out my astral sense, searched through the mortal worlds. Humans had always been some of the most eclectic people; dedication was a huge part of that. I was sure I'd find someone worthy, a new custodian for this burden.

My astral sense was a consciousness beyond time and reason. It took me less than half a second to find a promising candidate. Hastily, I descended from the higher plain and approached.

I ignored the nightlife of the city around me as I rounded upon an alley in an underground motorway. Secured in a corner with a dirty and moldy blanket over him was the most luxury-bereft man I'd ever met. He sat on cardboard to keep the cold of the concrete floor away.

From his manner of posture I knew definitely that he was asleep. This was a rat, a street rat though one who didn't look to be in his teens as those who that term applied to usually were. This was a grown man who was nevertheless a street, homeless, rat.

And like a rat, I'm sure he'd swiftly wake up, spooked, once I call his name. I approached gently until I stood above his resting form.

"Clarke Chambers."

It was exactly as I'd thought. His head shot up so quickly you would have thought he'd been awake all along, waiting for me to acknowledge him before responding. But I knew it was not so, it was just a homeless man's well honed instinct responding to a possible threat.

I looked down into his green eyes as his body became tense and raised my hands in a manner that conveyed peacefulness. The gesture was such a curious thing his people, the humans, put such value and credence in. But I could understand it, showing your hands provided evidence that you held nothing that could be a threat.

The beggar's eyes went over my empty hands and still he remained tense. I would have smiled if the expression came naturally to me. But I liked his spirit, he wasn't one to lose his guard just because there was no visible proof of danger. He was indeed worthy, I'd known previously but it was nice to still be getting assurances like this that showed that he was a perfect choice.

Who would have thought, amongst all the seven billion people in this world, some of them presidents meant to lead and guide or soldiers meant to protect and stand guard against evil, but it is a homeless beggar that's the only one who was worthy of inheriting my mantle.

"Who are you?" Clarke Chambers asked me and there was no tremor to his voice. It was a sign, one I took for its meaning: he was cautious not afraid. Another assurance, I thought.

He looked a bit curious at my form. I hadn't bothered to disguise the fact that I was something of a sort of what his people would classify as an alien. My green skin was visible and I hadn't bothered with following his people's culture of adorning myself in any kind of fabric. His eyes went over my eight feet tall form, white waist length hair, lack of any visible genitals and ears, and my one single eye.

"You're not scared," I noted, admirably.

He scoffed. "I've seen malformed dogs who look worse than you and for all I know this might just be a dream."

I looked deep into his eyes to judge his true feelings. Alas I was not a Bastion of Ativ who could read the life of anyone and anything so I settled for just reading his expressions. He was very bothered about my appearance and at the same time he was not. He was, as his people would say, 'weirded out' by it, but not concerned enough to be scared about it. This was a man who had no stakes in life. He'd only continued living because he was not surviving. He'd fight should he face a fatal threat, fight with everything he has, but he'd be glad to face a threat superior to him that could give him exactly what he's wanted for years, death.

There were two types of suicidal people. The ones who took their lives, and the one who sought trouble which took their life. The former were cowards and the latter were the most daring human beings that could exist, and this beggar was one. Which made him perfect for inheriting my mantle.

"You still haven't answered my question."

There was no question as to which inquiry he spoke of. "My name exceeds the pronouncing capabilities of your vocals. Regardless, it wouldn't matter as even I have forgotten it."

Chambers looked at me in confusion, his brows furrowed. "Then how'd you know I can't pronounce it if you have forgotten it yourself?"

"Because it is in the language of my people and that I have not forgotten and know that you can't speak even a word of."

"Ah," the man said in realization then shook his head and ran his eyes over my form again. "So you're an alien right? Like extraterrestrial?"

I nodded. "Somewhat so. Not in the sense that I come from space, but that I'm from a realm beyond the reality of this planet and this universe."

He smirked. "So not extraterrestrial really, but extradimensional?"

Now it was my turn to furrow my brow at him. It was a popular misconception, but one that was still wrong at the end of the day. "Extra Dimension would still be within this universe." He made to speak but I could guess what he was about to say and cut him off. "It is neither an alternate reality. As that would be a mirror of this reality, making it linked and thus the same reality but displaced from each other like a person and it's appearance on a reflective surface. If you seek exact words for my type of realm of origin then Extra Reality would be, not exactly accurate, but a better fit than any of the previous terms."

"I see," Chambers said, nodding. But I could tell that he didn't at all, he'd failed to grasp the essence of my meaning through my explanation. It was fine though, once he accepted my offer he'd have enough time to come to grips with all this. "So if I can't speak your name, what am I to call you?"

"Acquaintances call me Primus, some of my enemies call me the Origin. I'm better known by my eponym, Bastion of Genesis."