After his divorce, Larian was rummaging through some printed photographs when he came across a snapshot of a city back on Earth. A digital image taken sometime in the early 21st century. It had been captured by one of his ancestors- a great great great great great uncle... or something like that. He had been quite a famous scientist in his day with the development of spatio-temporal loop displacement theory, on which modern methods of space travel were based on.
Larian found the image mesmerizing because of its intimacy. It had been taken through the window of his downtown apartment, where the scientist lived during the great pandemic, and where he had done most of his important work. It was quite the tourist attraction back on Earth, and a place of pilgrimage for budding scientists and engineers. Family legend had it that when he went to the open house for the apartment, he only asked two questions of the real estate agent: 1) Where is the phone jack for the Internet, and 2) In which direction do the living room windows face? When the agent told him they faced west, he decided to buy it on the spot.
No one was quite sure why Larian's famous ancestor wanted windows facing west, but he was known for his eccentricities. He had tried his hand at rural living out of some romantic notions, but he quickly found out that the drudgery of even the most basic tasks left him bored and in a foul mood. He finally had enough one day when the cow he was milking kicked the bucket then his chin, and finally chased him up a tree. Some stories say that soon after that incident, he opened all the gates in his farm and caused a stamped of chickens, ducks, pigs, cows, and a couple of llamas down the town’s square. He then packed his belongings and moved to the city.
In the city he felt alive. His step had a bounce. The bright lights invigorated him. The smell of fried seafood and spices. Cruising down the avenues in his old beat up Chevy caprice. Mentally stimulated by the signs and the electronic billboards shimmering on the streets. Massage parlors, spas, and flotation tanks. Movies and shows. Theater. A hedonistic den of sin. He was no farm boy. He was a city boy, he felt very much at home (and alive) within its confines.
He loved anonymity. Surrounded by masses of people, yet known only to a few passing acquaintances. An urban solitary wolf staying in the shadows of the great towers. Focused on the hunt. He taught at the academy, which was also located in the downtown core. When the pandemic broke, his apartment was his lifeboat, his refuge. In his little urban dwelling, he weathered out the viral storm and did his most thorough work. From his window, he could see the traffic ebb and flow like the great tides of the bay.
Larian put the photograph away for safe-keeping. As he rummaged further through the pile, he found another photograph. Larian’s ex-wife. He quickly fed it to the shredder and left the rest intact.
