The End to Come Episode 32 3D Render, Digital Artwork by emarukk

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The End to Come Episode 32

3D Render by emarukk

The vast nothingness outside the confines of the small metal cocoon seemed silent and endless, a boundless void stretching into infinity. Yet, within this tight space, Olivia found herself anchored to the present moment by something profoundly simple and human. Hunger gnawed at her insides like a relentless second heartbeat, an insistent rhythm that refused to be ignored. The water Aldo had offered her earlier had only faintly dampened the edges of her insatiable need, leaving the core of her emptiness churning within her. It was raw and persistent, a clamor that outshouted her fears and overshadowed her sorrow. Yet, beneath the layers of ache and swirling confusion, there lay another sensation, warmer and more subtle: warm gratitude. Help had arrived unbidden, without her seeking or asking for it, and Aldo had taken her along, despite her initial resistance, offering a glimmer of solace amid the void.

Now, Aldo sat across from her, exuding a calmness that seemed to defy the cold, unforgiving metal walls enclosing them. His cybernetic eye caught the dim light with every subtle movement, a curious blend of the organic and the mechanical. Despite the clear marks of augmentations etched into his visible skin, there was nothing about him that felt artificial or harsh. Contrary to her expectations, he didn't fix her with a salvager's calculating stare, one that could pierce through the toughest of exteriors and evaluate the value of everything it reached. Instead, his gaze drifted toward the cockpit, seemingly lost in a maze of his own thoughts. When his eyes did find their way back to her, they were gentle and kind, reminiscent of the grandfather Olivia never had.

This was not what she had anticipated from a salvage operator. Throughout her life, tales of the space beyond Verdantia painted a different, more rugged picture. They spoke of rough men and women, their eyes hardened by experience, driven by an insatiable hunger for wealth or the sheer necessity of survival, grabbing whatever they could lay their hands on. In the serials, salvagers were depicted as opportunists, their hearts as cold as the vacuum of space itself. Dangerous and unyielding, they scavenged and enslaved without a second thought, selling every scrap they could pry from the wreckages of the cosmos.

Aldo Varin bore no resemblance to the rough and rugged salvager of adventure tales. Instead, he spoke softly, as though even the slightest increase in volume might shatter something delicate. His movements were measured and intentional, conveying a sense of quiet authority and intelligence that seemed to envelop him like an aura. In a gesture that seemed almost surreal, Aldo leaned forward, his hand reaching into a side compartment to retrieve a small packet of wet wipes. "Come here," he said, his voice suffused with a gentle patience that made his words feel like a soothing balm.

Olivia hesitated momentarily, blinking at him in confusion, unsure how to interpret the gesture. He really meant what he said earlier, she thought with surprise. Yet, her body, worn out and too exhausted to resist, obeyed instinctively, inching closer to the man who leaned toward her with a damp, wet wipe poised in his fingers. With deliberate care and tenderness, Aldo took her hands gently in his own, the grime and grit of her recent struggles clinging stubbornly to her skin. As he meticulously wiped away the filth that had accumulated from crawling through the smoldering ruins of the Verdantia station, the sensation was unexpectedly soothing. The warmth of the wipes was a gentle balm against her calloused fingers, the soft cloth a welcome relief against the dirt that had embedded itself in her palms, a testament to the chaos she had endured.

"Don't touch food with dirty hands," Aldo muttered, his voice carrying a gentle reprimand, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly in an amused smirk. It was as if he took a quiet pleasure in uncovering the smooth, pale skin hidden beneath layers of dirt and grime. His words seemed to echo from another era, reminiscent of the wise counsel of a grandfather, a nostalgic whisper from home.

The tenderness of the moment unraveled her further, layer by fragile layer. She'd been braced for the cold, clinical detachment she associated with the transactional nature of salvage law, expecting nothing more than evaluated as a businesslike exchange. She hadn't been prepared for this, the warmth of humanity she now encountered. After scrubbing her hands, he gently lifted her chin, his glove soft yet firm, and tenderly wiped her face, each stroke deliberate and caring. Olivia blinked rapidly, trying to ward off the sudden sting of tears that threatened to spill over. She wouldn't cry. Not for something as simple as this. Yet the kindness enveloped her, feeling vast and overwhelming in a life reduced to its most basic elements of survival.

She was not a child anymore, not in her own mind, but stranded in the vast expanse between stars; she felt afraid, lonely, and hungry. For this brief moment, she was transported back to a time long past, to being a child again, nurtured by steady, gentle hands that held no intention of harm. The feeling was almost incomprehensible, a foreign language she struggled to understand and believe. The contrast was stark between the harshness she had braced for and the softness she was receiving, a softness she had not anticipated nor knew how to accept.

After completing his task, Aldo carefully folded and packed the used wipes, sealing them securely in a waste packet. He placed a fresh stack of wipes on the deck, the incredible, antiseptic scent lingering in the air. "Nice and clean," he remarked, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "A pretty girl with fewer bruises than I expected." He left the wipes within easy reach on deck, adding, "I'll leave these here for you, just in case you need them."

Aldo reached over to the compartment adjacent to Olivia and carefully retrieved the box, cradling it in his hands. Settling back into his seat, he deftly opened the box with practiced ease. With a simple twist, he activated a mechanism on the cover, causing a soft click, and then swiftly closed it once more.

"See, kid, old habit. Sometimes, I crave warm food," Aldo remarked as the cabin was suddenly suffused with an unfamiliar aroma, rich and inviting, that wafted up to Olivia.

The scent, though synthetic, enveloped Olivia like a tidal wave, causing her stomach to twist with eager anticipation. Designed to entice and amplify, the artificial taste and experience boosters worked their magic all too well. For Olivia, who had never encountered such a sensation and was quite famished, the effect was profound. She could discern a delicate hint of spiced protein mingling with an elusive trace of sweetness beneath it all. Her breath hitched in her throat. Though it wasn't truly real food, it was nevertheless sustenance. Aldo extracted two energy bars from the box, their surfaces radiating a gentle warmth, and handed one to her.