INT. SLEEP CHAMBER - NIGHT
A SEISMIC SHUDDER rattles the metal walls.
The low HUM of the synth-lullaby cuts out. Darkness.
TRAVELER (20s), pale and thin in flimsy sleep-wear, jolts awake. Eyes wide. Gasping.
A heavy gauntlet clamps onto Traveler's wrist.
Traveler is yanked forward. Hard.
EXT. ARCTIC WASTELAND - CONTINUOUS
FRIGID WIND slams into them.
TARAN (30s), a hulking silhouette in armored insulation, drags Traveler through the snow.
They stop beside a machine. A Skidoo. Chrome-plated and massive. A leviathan.
Violet light PULSES from its exhaust vents.
Taran shoves Traveler onto the passenger seat. The cold plastic bites.
A heavy suit is forced over Traveler's limbs.
A helmet is pressed down. It SNAPS into place with an AIR-TIGHT HISS.
The world muffles.
Taran mounts the driver's seat. A sentinel against the twilight.
The engine GROWLS. A low thrum vibrates the chassis.
The Skidoo launches forward.
EXT. FROZEN PLAINS - MOMENTS LATER
The Skidoo skitters across the white plain like a frantic insect.
Traveler grips Taran's waist. Knuckles white inside oversized gloves.
Through the visor: Jagged black spires of defunct data towers scrape the sky.
A broken satellite dish, half-buried, flashes past.
Inside the helmet, the COMMS CRACKLE.
Hold fast, traveler. The journey permits no weakness.
Traveler stares at the back of Taran's helmet.
What is this?
Necessity, perhaps. Or destiny, in its most brutal form.
The Skidoo hits a drift.
They go airborne.
Traveler slams back down. A muffled CRY.
Taran's gloved hand reaches back. Covers Traveler's hand. A firm squeeze.
Traveler freezes. Then, slowly, leans into Taran's back.
EXT. NEXUS RUINS - LATER
The engine SPUTTERS and DIES.
Silence. Only the HOWL of the wind remains.
The Skidoo rests beside the rusted skeleton of a colossal structure. Twisted beams jut from the snow.
Taran dismounts. Graceful. Silent.
Traveler slides off. Legs stiff. Stumbles into the deep snow.
Taran turns. Reaches up and unlatches their helmet.
Taran removes it.
Sharp features. Dark, braided hair woven with luminous silver wires. A faint scar traces the left cheekbone.
Remove your own, if you wish. The air, for this brief interval, is safe enough to breathe.
Traveler fumbles with the latches. The helmet comes off.
Traveler gasps. Vapor plumes from their mouth. The air is sharp.
I am called Taran.
Taran. I... I do not recall my own designation.
Then we shall find it again.
Taran gestures to the ruins.
This was once a nexus. Before the great silence.
Above the structure, the sky IGNITES.
An aurora. Electric blue and molten gold. Swirling like oil in water.
The ice beneath their feet GLOWS. A vast network of frozen circuitry throbs with light.
It is the Grid. Speaking to us.
Traveler steps closer to Taran. Drawn in.
Why me? Why was I... taken?
The Grid chooses its conduits. You carry a resonance.
Taran reaches out. Cups Traveler's jaw. The glove is rough against skin.
I am but the ferryman. The chill is but a sheath. Beneath it lies a fire.
Traveler leans into the touch.
We must continue.
EXT. CRYSTALLINE VALLEY - NIGHT (MONTAGE)
- The Skidoo weaves through massive geode trees.
- Crystalline formations PULSE with inner light.
- Traveler rests their helmet against Taran's back.
- Taran adjusts the controls. Fluid. Ancient efficiency.
EXT. SETTLEMENT GATES - DAWN
A massive frozen waterfall hangs suspended in the air.
Below it, Yurts made of translucent synth-skin glow orange.
Small drones WHIR along the perimeter. Red sensors blink.
The Skidoo slows. The engine purrs down.
A gate of salvaged alloy slides open.
EXT. SETTLEMENT CENTER - CONTINUOUS
The Skidoo halts. Silence returns.
Figures in furs and synth-fibers emerge. Watching.
Taran dismounts. Traveler follows.
AN ELDER approaches. Face a map of wrinkles.
The Elder speaks in a guttural tongue.
Taran nods. Turns to Traveler.
They bid us welcome. They speak of the song you carry.
Taran reaches into a pouch. Pulls out a smooth river stone.
The stone PULSES with the same blue light as the aurora.
Taran offers it.
A fragment of the Old Way. A piece of the Grid's heart.
Traveler takes the stone. It is warm.
Our journey together may be concluded upon this mechanical beast. But your true journey has only just begun.
Traveler grips the stone.
Taran steps back. A small, somber smile.
I shall be here. Waiting. Watching.
Traveler looks at Taran. Then down at the pulsing stone.
The wind WHISTLES, no longer a threat, but a witness.