The Brothermother - A Prelude

The Brothermother was born unto himself from the vast endless nothing, long after All-That-Was, the Old World had left behind That-Which-Remains, the New World. He did not slither out from some reproductive universal anomaly-orifice, nor did he reverse-implode his being from the endlessly bland landscape of this long stagnant realm. There was no chemical chain reaction due to the frequent atmospheric imbalances and seismic upheavals of the petrified rock, nor the coming together of just the right microorganisms in some primordial pool of long-rancid 2% milk and the contents of a cheap box of long-forgotten store-brand wine to beckon his presence right then and there; he simply became. Not even That-Which-Remains could deny the spontaneity of his existence, and so it ignored him and moved on. That is what he tells me.

Brothermother spent years traveling the vastness of the New World, its lonely vistas of dust and grime, old furniture from centuries past dotted the landscape, stained porcelain sinks and toilets, large palettes and planks of fiberwood and abandoned vehicles, sometimes crushed or ripped in half by the shifting plates of land below them. The land was always moving here, Brothermother observed, the Old World's biggest mistake was to settle down in such contained, fragile environments. Now, in That-Which-Remains, all there would be for survivors -- if indeed there were still others besides Brothermother -- was The Walk, and The Rest. Life was simply a walk from landmark to landmark, and there were often landmarks just in the distance, or at least there stood long, winding pathways of cracked asphalt and crumbling concrete connecting the landmarks. Some stood on towering masses of dirt, held aloft at ridiculous angles by naturally-occurring metal protuberances which spiked out from the tall dirt walls, which coincidentally was how Brothermother would make his ascent up the harrowing structures. He did so as sometimes these craggy towers were topped with great treasures, remaining relics of All-That-Was which others must have been too frightened to brave the climb to the summits of the deadly spires. It was in these very places where The Rest occurred for Brothermother. Sometimes The Rest was very short, as the ground would shift and ruin these places, yet sometimes The Rest could last for years in peaceful ignorance of the rest of the world, when Brothermother would think long into the night, before clearing his mind with sleep and meditation.

It was a long period of time since Brothermother had first happened upon what the Old World called a "Grocery Store" atop one such jutting landmass, its shelves still stocked with long-rotted food products. He tried everything in a blissful frenzy, only to purge most of the shriveled, fungus-covered fruits and vegetables and softened, maggot-ridden meat slabs he had shoveled into his mouth. To be sure, Brothermother needed very little nutrition to stay alive, it was simply an exercise of pleasure that he desired to ingest the foods of the Old World, a sort of strange nostalgia. He was rewarded for his persistence, for after many failed attempts to hold down the rotten exposed food of the shelves, Brothermother found the well-preserved canned food section, two aisles stocked full with pet food, preserved baby food and anything from canned olives to tuna, he felt he was truly in heaven, and so he made a decision.

You may wonder why I call him Brothermother, it is because to me, that is his role, both that of a friend and rival found in a brotherly bond, but also as a caring and dutiful matriarch. He has taught me everything I know about That-Which-Remains as he has understood it, he raised me in that Grocery Store, brought me up on the sweet nectar of processed carrots and asparagus. He challenges me to better myself, become a philosopher and a scribe in this world we now inhabit, and on the best of days we would feast on desserts of canned olives and watch the dim red glow of the sun bask That-Which-Remains in its eternal evening light, so Brothermother taught me, and that is the reason Brothermother created me, I am Brotherbrother, I am his companion and his apprentice, and he shares with me in hopes I will one day grow to create my own Brotherbrother and become a new Brothermother, and in that way we may populate the new world with Brothermothers and Brotherbrothers who may travel together in a peaceful journey to rediscover that which was lost from All-That-Was.

Once, Brothermother told me of a long-gone age when the sun was young and healthy and shone a blindingly bright golden, and that our world was always slowly rotating, creating times which the Humans of the Old World called "Morning" and "Night" and that when the sun was gone a globe of white light called "Moon" would take its place during the Night. A fascinating idea, Night sounded so terrifyingly dark, not like the drowsy comfort of our constant dusk. I am glad we live in this part of That-Which-Remains, but I can't help but wonder to myself, if we live in the Duskscape of the world, what lies unexplored in the Nightscape? Brothermother says he does not know, he says maybe one day if we can travel far enough we will find out. We certainly have the time to do so, we have nothing but time now.

Brothermother has never seen Moon or Night, he has only existed in this lasting and eternal dusk. He wonders if Moon even exists still, he wonders why this planet ceased to turn one day, why it became this shifting mass of cancerous growth. Brothermother knows much about the Old World, once called Earth, he learned from the faded writings of societies since-destroyed or disbanded in a "Library" which is a structure filled to its brim with papers, written as I do in my journal which Brothermother gifted to me as soon as I learned to write. Brothermother taught me to read with the help of the labels which mark the various food and drink in the Grocery Store, and he says we will travel to a Library and he will teach me even more there, teach me of history and science, of entertainment and all these wonderful things. I ask him if he will teach my why the Old World had to change, but he only looks at me with sad, consoling eyes. He wishes he could tell me, but it is beyond even him.

I would like to learn. I, like Brothermother, do not need the same things the Humans of Old required to live, yet I am so fascinated to learn and experience those things. Their faces plaster the covers of some items in the Grocery Store, "Medicines" for when one's body would ache depicted a female with a face of scrunched discomfort, holding her belly with both hands. Brothermother is interested by the Humans of Old, but also afraid, as he has read of their past actions, and is frightened of what they would do unto one another in the worst of times, and thus unto us in the best of times. The world has changed so much, he knows not if there are even any Humans of Old left, as he has never happened upon them in his years exploring the wastes. I hope we can meet them one day, I hope they will accept us, though we do not share all of their features or designs.

Brothermother keeps clothes for us, which we do not often wear as they are uncomfortable on our segmented skin-plates, but we keep them in case we see the Humans of Old. There are large, baggy shirts and pants for himself and smaller, child's clothing for me. I am still growing, as he did at the start of his life, he says I am not yet taller than a Human of Old in the double-digits of their life-years. This is okay with me, I like the feeling that I still have more to develop. Perhaps Brothermother too, will develop as I grow? I wonder if I will ever reach his great height so that we may see eye to eye, as equals. I wonder if upon that day, I will still call him Brothermother.

Tomorrow, Brothermother will take me further from the Grocery Store than we have ever gone, he says there is not much left to scavenge, and so we must climb down from the great pillar which has housed our shelter for so long and travel the long expanses of That-Which-Remains, as he did in the beginning. I cannot wait to see what the land beyond the Grocery Store has to offer, finally I will see the things Brothermother has told me of for myself. I will update my journal whenever we rest on our travels. There is so much I wish to explore, I can scarcely wait to make the descent, though I will miss this Grocery Store. It has given us so much... Perhaps we will return one day, but for now I must only look forward. Our adventure soon begins!