Dorian's Grayl SFSD #4 Round II

Prologue

The Intergalactic Eurostar broke atmosphere and descended slowly towards the docking station.  Its journey never stopped - not for the last few hundred years anyways. Since the train’s inception it had traversed the Galaxy and was embarking upon its final stops of this particular journey at the various Zones of the planet London and its Moons; from Zone One to Zone Nine.

Its pilot heaved a sigh of relief as the docking clamps firmly grasped the train in their electro magnetic field.  It had been over a year since he’d been home to King’s Cross - It took a long time to make all the stops at the many planets within the Europa Sector, and aside from a bit of a kerfuffle upon Copenhagen when someone tried to load a giant package into cargo during the first quarter, the journey had been mostly uneventful.  

The pilot engaged the landing brake, alighting from the cab and smoothing down his lapels before smacking his fist against the evacuation button.  The ramps lowered with a hiss of steam and a ‘poof’ of accumulated Galactic dust as the passengers of the Inter-G-Eurostar descended by the thousand.

As the pilot waited for his replacement to arrive, he watched the passengers struggling across the platform with their hand luggage as they headed towards the cargo turbine.  One passenger stood out amongst the masses, a lone male carrying no luggage and wearing clothes which didn’t quite fit.  He looked lost, though not in the way you would expect.  This was the look of a man who didn’t know his place or purpose in the universe.  A man like that could easily become corrupted upon a planet such as London.

“Pilot Vane?” The pilot’s thoughts about the man ended abruptly with the appearance of his replacement for the next year or so.

“Hmm? Sorry, I was miles away. Yes, that’s me,” said Vane.  The two pilots shook hands. “Have a safe journey mate.”

“I will,” the new pilot smiled.  “You’d best get out of here, there’s a lady waiting for you. Says her name’s Sybil and you’re going to miss her play.”

Vane grimaced.  He wished his sister would find a boyfriend to drag along to her Shakespearean renditions. Because Pilot James Vane turned and headed straight for the Staff exit, he didn’t see the gentleman from Copenhagen stagger across the platform with his huge blank canvas, and he certainly didn’t see the lost young man stop to help carry the thing.  If he had intervened, if he had offered his assistance instead, then things would have turned out very differently indeed.

* * * * * *

Some weeks later, the young Dorian Gray lounged atop a grassy knoll, bathed in the curious warmth of the triplicate Suns which gave life to the Europa Sector.  He held a can of Tennents Supernova in one hand whilst the other flicked through a copy of the Encyclopedia of Codexial and Sequential Decipherism as Basil painted his portrait upon the giant canvas.  

He posed all day and partied all night, though the hedonistic lifestyle soon took its toll and he found himself staring at Basil’s portrait of him and comparing it to his haggard face in the mirror, wishing it was the painting which bore the ill effects of his habits and not he.  As a matter of fact, he’d willingly give his soul if that could be the case...

It was the day his girlfriend Sybil committed suicide because of his actions that he realised his selfish wish had been granted. His image in the painting wore a sneer, his face distorted and twisted.

“Basil,” Dorian asked warily, “Before you painted this portrait, what else did you paint?”

“Anger, pain, fear, aggression...” He trailed off.

“Watercolours?”

“It's a bit more complex than that. Why do you ask?”

“Because I believe this painting has stolen my soul. It has changed and it continues to do so. Almost five years I have been here on Zone One, yet I haven't aged a day since 1995. That bloody portrait has, just look at it. Destroy it Basil, burn it, cut it in three and fire it into the Suns because I am leaving.”

And with that, Basil ignored Dorian’s wishes entirely and sold his painting for a hefty sum. Dorian took the InterG out to Zone Nine where he purchased a Stasis pod and set the dial for fifty years before slapping a big ‘do not disturb’ sign on the front and climbing in.  Fifty years should be enough time for people to forget about him, surely.

The year was 1999, and as the Millennium struck, so did the Millennium Bug, worming its way through computer networks across the Trinary System, entombing Dorian for five hundred years instead of fifty.

Five hundred years is a long time, some might say it's even long enough to give birth to a legend...