Stepping onto the motionless streets, he paused to take in the hush. Figures frozen mid-errand, mid-laughter, or mid-phone call formed a still-life around him. Their suspended gazes felt almost accusatory, as if asking why he alone moved in this silent tableau. He pushed the thought aside, letting his mind map out the day’s goal: find a place big enough to house labs, storage, and a sense of home.
His first stop was the grand city library. He’d admired its stately columns before but never viewed it as a potential refuge. Inside, hushed marble floors led to towering shelves brimming with books. The warmth of the space struck him at once; rows of reading tables and ornate lamps gave the library an academic, almost sacred atmosphere. Frozen patrons occupied plush chairs, their heads bent over pages that would never turn.
Aion walked slowly down an aisle, running a finger along dusty spines. This is a treasure trove, he thought, heart quickening at the thought of all he could learn. He envisioned his medical station set up in a reading room, experiments quietly underway among centuries of knowledge.
But as he ventured deeper, he noticed potential faults. The polished wooden floors, though beautiful, might not handle the weight of heavy equipment. The massive windows let in wonderful light but also left the interior exposed—something that felt unnerving in a world where he wasn’t entirely sure he was alone. Despite its allure, the library seemed ill-suited for large-scale projects.
He jotted quick notes into a small notebook:
- Pros: Access to knowledge, peaceful, ample desk space
- Cons: Fragile floors, too open, not ideal for machinery
Next, he headed to the industrial district. Sunlight glinted off corrugated metal and silent cranes, each one halted in an eternal mid-lift. A sprawling warehouse beckoned with its yawning entrance. Inside, the air felt colder, carrying the faint tang of machinery oil. Rows of stacked crates and dormant forklifts spoke to a once-bustling operation.
Practical, he mused, taking in the soaring ceilings and reinforced concrete floors. He could almost see rows of shelves for medical supplies, a central area for more ambitious experiments, and plenty of space to store raw materials. He tested the echo of his footsteps—it bounced back at him with a metallic ring. The emptiness made his skin prickle.
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“This place is perfect for heavy work,” Aion murmured, scribbling in his notebook. “But can it feel like a home?” He could picture himself sleeping in a corner among the crates, surrounded by cold steel and unyielding walls. The thought felt bleak. I want to keep some shred of humanity, he reminded himself, closing the warehouse door behind him.
He ventured to the city’s outskirts and discovered a mansion that seemed plucked from a bygone era. Ornate gates stood half-open, revealing an overgrown garden leading to a stately front entrance. Stepping inside, he inhaled the lingering scent of dust and old wood. Chandeliers overhead were frozen mid-swing, casting shimmering reflections on marble floors. Threadbare carpets and silent corridors hinted at former grandeur.
Room after cavernous room unfurled before him: a perfect playground for multiple labs, workshops, and maybe even an indoor greenhouse. He gently pushed open a set of ornate double doors to find a ballroom with tall windows. Faded murals adorned the walls, and in the stillness, he could almost hear the echoes of past revelry.
But signs of decay were everywhere—peeling wallpaper, water-stained ceilings, cracks snaking across the foundations. Repairing and maintaining a mansion this size would be a project in itself, even with endless time. How long until it became livable? he wondered, running a hand over a splintered banister.
He left with mixed feelings. Majestic, but overwhelming, he wrote in his notebook, restoration vs. practicality?
Twilight crept over the city by the time Aion made his way back to the little book café. Inside, he found Peach exactly as he’d left her: eyes lifted from her page, eternally on the verge of saying something. It comforted him in a way he couldn’t quite describe.
He pulled up a chair across from her, dropping his notebook on the table. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” he said in a low voice, as though Peach might respond. “I’ve got so many ideas, but every place I check out has flaws. The library’s perfect for study but too delicate for big projects, the warehouse is huge but soulless, and the mansion is incredible but kind of a wreck.”
He stared at her for a moment, letting the stillness wash over him. “I miss having someone talk back,” he admitted with a dry laugh. “I just want to make a choice and move forward.”
Outside, the frozen night glowed with streetlamps that cast shadows over unmoving cars and silent pedestrians. This world can feel so empty, he thought. Yet, as he rose from his chair, a hint of resolve stirred in his chest. Perfection was impossible, but he could choose a next step and adapt.
Before heading out into the crisp air, Aion paused to glance at Peach one last time. “Thanks for listening,” he said quietly, brushing a hand across the table’s edge as if in farewell. He stepped onto the sidewalk and gazed up at the motionless sky, streetlights illuminating the path ahead.
No space will be ideal, he reminded himself, but any one of them can be good enough to start.
Tucking the notebook under his arm, he walked into the night, the silent city offering no answers but plenty of possibilities. Somewhere among these buildings lay his future—a place to grow, to tinker, to keep loneliness at bay. He just had to pick it and shape it into a home.
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