The Dune Cure

Chapter 2

"This works as a heat-exchange system. Think of it as a Micro sandwich of sorts," Kynes says as he tightens the boots on Miles' feet.

Miles truthfully hated how the suit felt on him. The uncomfortable nose plug was enough to drive any man nuts. "Is the plug necessary?"

"Yes," says Kynes, with a small chuckle. "That is how your tubes collect air and work to exchange heat. Collect your fluids."

Miles nods. He looks back out at the bright, white atmosphere. He finds himself in another wide entrance of the palace that Kynes has led him to. He can see Harkonnen soldiers returning from Thopters. Marching on with their commands. Spice mining is the only valuable thing that happens here. That's what Miles was always told. Now repeating it in his own head.

Kynes pats him on the shoulder and takes a few steps back. He gives him a slight head nod. "I think you're ready to go. Do you know how to sandwalk?" Miles nods. He has only studied a slim margin of Fremen lifestyle. But at this point he wasn't sure if he would really want to know. "What would be worse?" He asks. "Dying from the heat of the desert, or being engulfed by worms." Kynes takes a deep sigh. He looks out with Miles at the busy Harkonnen ways.

"Are you sure you want to do this lad?" He asks.

"Yeah..." Miles begins walking away from Kynes. Upon exiting the shade, the heat already left him dry and dehydrated within the first minute. Kynes watches him grow further and further from him. What a shame he thinks to himself. A life he leaves behind based on nothing but Imperial dictatorship. He will certainly not last long. Now why did I ever waste a suit on that man?

Miles walks through the cityscape of Arakeen. He is approaching closer and closer to the shield wall. He has all the materials he would ever need for a doctor's journey through the deserts of Arrakis. A few medical supplies, a single canteen of water, and what else? Perhaps nothing. It is as if he has chosen death before death knows he is approaching.

As he strolls further and further away from the palace and closer to the dunes that await him, he looks back at the city from afar. He can see the Highliner ship leaving... without him. Those ships have been used to transport houses for imperial change. Dictators and rulers. Much larger, significant figures than Miles can ever picture himself in accordance with. He turns away and continues on his way. Not looking back at the city behind him. I can't look back, he reminds himself. Forwards Miles. This is the way.

Through the blankness of his peripheral view, Miles finds himself now stomping upon a sandy surface. He has left the barrier of Arakeen by his own will. It made him think of how many people have possibly done this. Journey through the desert of Arrakis in hopes to find something. Miles after all was only testing himself. But as he got gradually closer and closer to the sand hills, he was coming to grips with the high possibility of death. What is death? He asks himself. A question that lingers heavily throughout any species or culture that exists within spacial matter. Do we fear death? And if so... is it really death we fear? Or is it just the unknown?

Miles is now about a kilometer deep into the desert. He is heading south. He just has a feeling that is where to go. Perhaps doctoral instincts? Or maybe the feeling of a foolish figure who is inexperienced in studying the true landscape of Arrakis? This is all Miles can think about. Nothing has even happened yet. Soon I should begin the art of the sandwalk, he tells himself. In which he was also very, physically inexperienced in.

The smooth sand travels with his feet as he begins swaying hit boots across the desert. He is sure there have been worse forms of sand walking in the past. As he continues on his way, the heat begins to slowly die down. The sun is setting, creating an orange glow throughout the sand hills. Where shadows are now further brought out in the midst of the sun. He comes across a sand mountain perfectly split between darkness and light. It is beautiful. Nothing like an off-worlder such as himself has ever seen.

Night is upon him. The heat is beginning to turn to a sharp, distinct cold. The lack of humidity in the air is now very prevalent. Miles breathes in the cold air and feels it run through his lungs. It feels good for the time being. The sweat on his forehead has now subsided. Day one he recalls to himself. I haven't been consumed by a worm yet. I have not passed out or been taken by the desert. I am not dead. I am very much... still alive.

He takes a rest atop the large, thick sand mountain. Staring up at the stars. Somewhere out there lies Caladan. Caladan? Such a nice planet that happened to treat Miles with such pity. Miles did not have a tent to sleep, but his body required sustainable rest. He ponders what he should do next. Sleep? Don't sleep? Then the thought occurred to him of dying in his sleep. It would be much better to be eaten while sleeping and die then. To die in my sleep would be to die unknowingly. Miles continues to gaze up at the stars. Counting each one in his head.

His eyes naturally start to close. There comes a point where you're so tired that resting your eyelids is just a gift from god. He can still see the stars plastered in his mind. Memories of where each planet is in the space map. Inhibited or not, they are certainly beautiful from a distance. Even if their inner cores lie nothing but darkness and secrets. Oppression And family conflict. That is the last thought that runs through Miles' head as he begins to drift to sleep. His uniform and still-suit is enough to keep him warm through the cold atmosphere that is Arrakis at night. But when you sleep, recalling such pity, these thoughts make their way into your subconscious picture. A thing we call dreams.