(Part 2 of "Something New in the Works)

Part 2: The Beginning After the End

20,000 years later...

The shades of blue were quite pleasant. The sky was pale and painted with strokes of cloud-lines to resemble a cosmic zebra. The river was a reflection of this scene, transposed to motion, and the whitecrest of waves hinted of momentary diamonds in a sea of sapphire. He was reflecting on the reflection and the ways it chose to differ from its inspiration.

Yes, Prock was feeling quite pleased, connected to this scene via fishing line, the string plunging into the flow as a mute prayer for the river to bear him a diamond, a tug, an inspiration.

Tug. Shock. Joy. Enthusiasm. Yank. Hope. Grin. Pull. Fight.

And then he held his dream come true. He couldn't wait to get it scanned and read the stats, because he knew the numbers would be, for him, scientific proof of beauty.

20 minutes later...

What luck. And he had only come to steal his dinner.

Weaving through the crowd in such a way to be unnoticed and therefore invisible to all, he casually snuck through the streets and alleys, admiring his find. The vial was made of a glass-titanium hybrid. It had the clearness of glass, but felt just like smooth steel to the touch, and seemed indestructible. And as a three dimensional, elongated oval closed at both ends, it appeared to be completely inaccessible. The liquid did not appear special beside its color. That was the deepest blue he'd ever seen. Of course he had to have it.

The stats on the fish weren't bad either, but to this thief they only meant one thing, enough to fill me up. He thought. The setup had been just beautiful.

Analysis. Trust. Distraction. Speed. Replacement. Exit.

And then he held his dream in his hand. That poor fisherman and the old scientist must have been furious when they realized that their prize-winning fish and it's mysterious contents had been snatched while they drooled over the scan results. I'm getting pretty good at this, thought the thief. He swelled with pride.

20 hours later...

He can't get it open. That mongrol thief was killed over this thing, and now the new owner of this beautiful burden can't even get it open.

Pacing on the antique hardwood floor beneath him.

Cleaned off all the equipment, everything is repaired and refilled, the only thing out-of-its-place is the weapon he'd used to kill the thief. He's earnestly ready to tinker with this compound, and the poor alchemist can't find a way in. It's beginning to drive him mad. To him, the vial represents all the mysteries of life. The blue is so simple, but he can sense subtle hints, foretastes of its powerful feast, just in the way it moves in the vial, just by its density, hell, just by the dosage. But mostly the color. There was something about that blue.

Pacing.

He'd been so bored lately. He had combined every combination of elements to produce every alternate reality in the proverbial book. He had gotten creative with it after then, and had now, finally run out of ideas. He'd been mixing compounds his entire life, and now he was so good at it, he had nothing to do. Who ever expects the dead end at the long corridor of passion?

Pacing.

But what he was lacking, what he felt to be the last puzzle piece, the final fragment to complete his existence had fallen right into his lap. It was like fate, like the vial had a mind of its own and sought him out. Just what he needed.

But nothing would cut that glassmetal.

Pacing. Pacing. Pacing. Pacing.

"It's just taunting me." he told himself. It knew the answer to the question haunting him and he did not. nah nah nah-nah nah

20 days later...

Overheard in a bar. "Have you heard?"

"You mean about that weird vial?"

"Yeah."

"Only partly. I haven't seen any schematics yet."

"Oh, the schematics aren't out yet. This was just discovered."

"So - I don't even know - what exactly is this supposed to be a compound of?"

"Well, the rumor is that somebody discovered the synthesis for beauty. They say it's a pleasant shade of blue."