Despite being here for numerous decades, the boy never got accustomed to the Structure. A winding, self-replicating mechanical labyrinth, its chambers endlessly spanned a discrete grid in not just the four cardinal directions, but even vertically. There was no map in existence that charted it all, for multiple reasons:
1. No one person had ever traversed it wholly. The elders and scholars even have reason to suspect it goes on indefinitely.
2. Even if someone had, in the distant past, the map would've decayed and rot by now.
3. It did not chart itself in some kind of map application, unfortunately.
The built-in terminals accessible roughly every five chambers were relatively barebones, compared to the technology re-developed by the Structure's various splinter societies. The only functionality they provided was a registry of every angel with working radar receptors. The Registry was useful; it included names, date-of-birth... and coordinates. Anyone wandering alone was justifiably so.
The boy had heard stories of unsuccessful attempts to hack into the registry: hard-modding ROM injections, brute force input combinations, etc. Yet, these always ended in mass disqualifications of eternal life. This was more of a deterrent than serious retaliation, as those monitoring their exploits could confirm. It all had hints of the Babelesque, hence why some took to calling where (or what) they lived in God. "It can't be God, because it does not care enough about us!", say some critics. Others, like the mystics of the Confraternity, see in it a sort of creator deity. The scholars saw in it a miracle of engineering, but nothing more. But the Structure didn't care what it was called.
But what could prompt someone to venture the vast, unfamiliar depths? Let it be known that it was thus: the boy felt hollow one day, and decided to travel the unknown. He had made many friends and lovers in his commune, but there came a time when the infinitude of eternity was revealed to him, and his outlook on life changed.
The epiphany came in a dream, as he lay in the warmth of his spouses' repose. A premature awakening sundered the habitual circadian rhythm, as if a flash of lightning. In the threshold of dream and reality, somnambulant whispers of an undecipherable ilk flooded the boy's senses. This was nothing new, in his pre-angelic days he was prone to such occurrences. But not yet after. The twisted, contorted threads of thought fought, overlapped; and the boy in his newfound stupor comprehended it not:
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The boy was bewildered by the fugitive trails, versicles from the codex of the soul. Reflexively, he employed a tried-and-true technique to calm his flaring thoughts:
"I am real, this is me, my name is..."
He had forgotten his old name. There was no need for it anymore. Nevertheless, a faint presence, as if a sigh from up high, enveloped him. The boy recognized it.
"... ."
He remembered.
"I am Zechariah, I am an angel, I exist, I am here, my name is Zechariah, I live with my husbands, wives; I live..."
And so he muttered, until sleep overtook him.
Eventually the boy awoke, and he was... troubled. Only one of his wives remained asleep, the rest had already wandered about. The boy leaned in, kissed her forehead, then stepped out of the sleeping cushion. The commune residents slept in small walled gazebos, one per nuclear spousal unit. The angelic biological clock is not much different than ours; the Structure simulates earthly zeitgeber like sunlight and temperature cycles to accommodate it. Truthfully, however, there was no need for sleep in this new life. But, alongside other bodily functions, it was seemingly retained for the sole purpose of pleasure.
Zechariah opened the entrance, and stepped on the metallic plates that the residents called common ground. He walked towards the gazebo of an elder whom he admired very much, and on his way saw a girl playing with a metal rod nearby. She noticed him approach and signaled at him, that he might join. While the boy would've normally complied (after all, he enjoyed cuddling considerably), this time he gestured a refusal. Pouting, she stood up and walked towards him. He was not prepared.
"Acha!", she shouted. "Why won't you play?". The boy did not look at her.
"Believe me, dearsister, that I will play once I have visited whom I will visit. Wait here, I will be back soon."
The boy took one step, but she grabbed the tip of his left wing. He looked her in the eyes; she stared blankly, longing for an answer.
"Acha..."
At this moment, Zechariah recognized the void. He took her hands, interlocking her fingers with his, and explained:
"My beloved achai, my most cherished kin, I will be leaving very soon. You will not see me for some time. Let me go to our dearest abba, may his words lead me where they may. I promise to be with you as long as you like, once I return."
She nodded.
"Ok acha. I love you."
"I love you too.", he replied. He kissed her on the cheek twice, and hugged her for some time, before finally resuming his walk.
