IXION PROJECT [PREVIEW]
© Fred Dumpling. Redistribution is prohibited.
"That's impossible," was all she said. She sat in her chair, eyes wide with shock. Then she beamed. "You must be some sort of freak!"
"What?"
"Come now, Ixion. What else but a freak, fairy, angel, dragon, moose, piranha, cursed prince, or government conspiracy could heal like that? And I'm fairly sure you're not any of the others——except maybe a government conspiracy."
The young man had stopped listening after the third word, however, for he had not realized until then that even his name had been unknown to him. But when he heard her call him "Ixion," he knew it was correct.
"How did youĞ" he started.
"So you are a government conspiracy? Smashing! I always knew—"
"No, that's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I meant——my name."
The woman slapped the palm of her hand against her forehead. "How silly of me!" she laughed. She shoved her hand into a pocket in her dress that Ixion had not realized was there and that indeed seemed to disappear as soon as her hand was out of it. When he squinted at it, he could see its opening still barely visible in the devious material.
An "ahem" from the woman drew his attention to the contents of her hand: two silver dog tags. In one was engraved, "IXION." The other, "The ELSCHILDE Family." He took the tags from her.
"I found those on the ground next to you," she said. "'Ixion Elschilde.' It's a nice name. You're from Layer 2, then? That's the only place they use those."
"I don't actually know," Ixion admitted. "I can't seem to remember much."
"That's only to be expected," the woman said. "You must have hit your head hard when you fell from the train. I've cleaned it all off, but your head was bleeding, too. Although that seems to have healed up just like your other wounds! You really are—"
"I'm sorry," Ixion interrupted. "I fell from the train?"